HAR. I sing hay-ree, that is, hay and rye; meaning that they shall have hay and rye, their bellyfuls, if they will draw hard. So we say, Wa hay, when they go out of the way; meaning that they shall want hay if they will not do as they should do.
SUM. How thrive thy oats, thy barley, and thy wheat?
HAR. My oats grow like a cup of beer that makes the brewer rich; my rye like a cavalier, that wears a huge feather in his cap, but hath no courage in his heart; hath[77] a long stalk, a goodly husk, but nothing so great a kernel as it was wont. My barley, even as many a novice, is cross-bitten,[78] as soon as ever he peeps out of the shell, so was it frost-bitten in the blad, yet pick'd up his crumbs again afterward, and bad "Fill pot, hostess," in spite of a dear year. As for my peas and my vetches, they are famous, and not to be spoken of.
AUT. Ay, ay, such country-button'd caps as you
Do want no fetches[79] to undo great towns.
HAR. Will you make good your words that we want no fetches?
WIN. Ay, that he shall.
HAR. Then fetch us a cloak-bag, to carry away yourself in.
SUM. Plough-swains are blunt, and will taunt bitterly.
Harvest, when all is done, thou art the man:
Thou dost me the best service of them all.
Rest from thy labours, till the year renews,
And let the husbandmen [all] sing thy praise.
HAR. Rest from my labours, and let the husbandmen sing my praise? Nay, we do not mean to rest so: by your leave, we'll have a largess amongst you, ere we part.
ALL. A largess, a largess, a largess!