That doublet fit, ’twill keep thee from the cold:
How does my sexton?- What! the times are hard;
Drive that stout pig, and pen him in thy yard.’
But most, his rev’rence loved a mirthful jest:-
‘Thy coat is thin; why, man, thou’rt
barely
dress’d
It’s worn to th’ thread: but I have nappy beer;
Clap that within, and see how they will wear!’
“Gay days were these; but they were quickly past: