and he that made two made three.
The greedy Curmudgin sits all the day snudging[179]
at home with browne bread and small beare,
To Coffer up wealth, he starveth himselfe,
scarce eats a good meale in a yeare.
But I'le not do so, how ere the world go
so long as I have money in store
I scorne for to faile, go fil us more Ale,
for he that made three made four.