HUSBANDMAN.
Kind sir! I ‘turn you thanks for your intelligence,
These things I receive at your hand;
But something pray now show, that first I may plainly know
The pleasures of a servingman.
SERVINGMAN.
Why a servingman has pleasure beyond all sort of measure,
With his hawk on his fist, as he does stand;
For the game that he does kill, and the meat that does him fill,
Are pleasures for the servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
And my pleasure’s more than that, to see my oxen fat,
And a good stock of hay by them stand;
My plowing and my sowing, my reaping and my mowing,
Are pleasures for the husbandman.
Why it is a gallant thing to ride out with a king,
With a lord, duke, or any such man;
To hear the horns to blow, and see the hounds all in a row,
That is pleasure for the servingman.
HUSBANDMAN.
But my pleasure’s more I know, to see my corn to grow,
So thriving all over my land;
And, therefore, I do mean, with my plowing with my team,
To keep myself a husbandman.