And lig so laid, when winter doth her strain.
The dapper ditties, that I wont devise,
To feed youth's fancy, and the flocking fry,
Delighten much; what I the bett forthy?
They have the pleasure, I a slender prise:
I beat the bush, the birds to them do fly:
What good thereof to Cuddie can arise?
PIERS. Cuddie, the praise is better than the price,
The glory eke much greater than the gain:
O what an honour is it, to restrain