Where lest they should by too much food grow dull,
They scarce in seven years have their belly full.
That Barresters at Bar may louder bawl,
See the short Commons that art in the Hall.
’Tis plenty rusts our Valour, when we need,
Rather than starve, we there can bravely bleed:
For food we fight, for which we Centry stand,
Want makes our wit as active as our hand.
Thus did my wit shew to my wants a way
To fill its belly, and increase my pay,