Apollo and the Muses nine,
doe take it in no scorne,
There's no such stuffe to passe the time,
as the little Barly-Corne.
Twill make a weeping Widdow laugh,
and some incline to pleasure;
Twill make an old man leave his staffe
and dance a youthfull measure:
And though your clothes be nere so bad,
all ragged, rent, and torne,