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More craft was in a buttonn'd cap,

And in an old wife's rail, Than in my life it was my hap

To see on down or dale.

There was no open forgery,

But under-handed gleaning, Which they call country policy,

But hath a worser meaning.

Some good bold face bears out the wrong,

Because he gains thereby, The poor man's back is cracked ere long, Yet there he lets him lie.

And no degree among them all,

But had such close intending, That I upon my knees did fall,

And prayed for their amending,

Back to the woods I got again,

In mind perplexed sore,
Where I found ease of all my pain,

And mean to stray no more.

There, city, court, nor country too,

Can any way annoy me,
But as a woodman ought to do,

I freely may employ me,

There live I quietly alone,

And none to trip my talk,
Wherefore when I am dead and gone,

Think on the woodman's walk.

LXXXIII.

“ Jacke Dove's Resolution, by which he doth shew, That he cares not a rush how ere the world goe.”

To the tune of—To drive the cold Winter away.

T.

o all my good friends, these presents I send,

Yet neither to beg nor to crave,
For though some have store, and I am but poor,

I'm content with that little I have
And I'll ne'er for my want turn sycophant,

(Though many there be that do so,;)
But I'll honest be, love them that love me,

And care not how ere the world go.

And though fortune frown, I'll not cast myself down,

But mildly bear what doth fall, Care will make me but worse, and ne'er fill my purse,

But the day will come may mend all,
Then 'tis but a folly, for that to be sorry,

Which must whether I will or no,
But impatience in rest, then I'll hope for the best,

And care not how ere the world go.

For why should a man care, or drown in despair,

Though his fortunes be ne'er so unkind, Why should I be sad, for what I ne'er had,

Or foolishly trouble my mind,
And I do hate to pine at my fate,

There's none but fools will do so,
I'll laugh and be fat, for care kills a cat,

And I care not how ere the world go.

To sigh and to wail, what will it prevail,

Or any whit better my fare, When a little good mirth, 'mongst friends is more worth,

And better than a great deal of care;
Then I'll cheer up myself, for content is great wealth,

Let sighing and sorrowing go,
I'll laugh and be merry, with a cup of old sherry,

And care not how ere the world go.

Though many a chuff hath more than enough,

Why should I repine at their bliss,
If I am content with what God hath sent,

I think I do not amiss :
Let others have wealth, so I have my health,

And money to pay what I owe,
I'll laugh and be merry, sing down a down derry,

And care not how ere the world go.

I'll make much of one, for when I am gone,

Then what's all the world unto me,
I'll not be a slave to that which I have,

But ’mongst my friends let it flee;
And least there rise debate, about my estate,

When my head's laid full low,
Or some knaves circumvent it, to whom I ne'er meant it,

I'll spend it how ere the world go.

SECOND PART.

Some men do suppose, to go in brave cloaths,

Doth purchase a great deal of respect,
Though I am but poor, I run not on score,

I think myself honestly deckt;
Let others go brave, 'tis my own that I have,

And I think they cannot say so,
And I like that I wear, though it cost not so dear,

And I care not how ere the world go.

I'd rather go mean, than be like to them,

Which living in pomp and state,
Maintain all their bravery, with private knavery,

Getting gold at any rate;
Such conscience profess, but use nothing less,

Deceiving the world with a shew,
But the time it may come, will pay such knaves home,

But I care not how ere the world go.

Your delicate cates your hypocrites eat,

And wine of the best do drink,
Much money they spend, but to little end,

And ne'er on their end they think :
Low shrubs be secure, when cedars endure

All storms and tempests that blow,
Let others rise high, but so will not I,

For I care not how ere the world go.

For ambition's best scene, is but a fine dream,

Which for a time tickles the mind,
And the hap of an hour, with such envy may low'r,

As may turn all one's hopes into wind,
Then worse than before, they may sigh and deplore,

To see themselves cast off so low, When I all the while do sit and smile,

And care not how ere the world go.

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