Some slovens from sleeping no sooner get up
But hand is in aumbry and nose is in cup.
Nothing of the kind with Mrs. Tusser. On the other hand, hard work all round: "Sluts' corner" to be ridded; sweeping, dusting, mop-twirling,
Let some to peel hemp, or else rushes to twine,
To spin or to card, to seething of brine;
and as for the men:
Let some about cattle, some pastures to view,
Some malt to be grinding against ye do brew.
And so to breakfast. The morning star was the signal for it; and a hasty meal was expected of you:
Call servants to breakfast, by day-star appear,
A snatch, and to work—fellows tarry not here.
You had porridge and a scrap of meat, and if you laid hands on something sweeter, look out for Mrs. Tusser:
"What tack in a pudding?" saith greedy gut-wringer:
Give such ye wot what, ere a pudding he finger.
And, summarily, of breakfast there is this to be understood, that it is a thing of grace, not of custom: