They ranted, drank, and merry made,
Till all his gold it waxed thinne;
And then his friendes they slunk away;
They left the unthrifty heire of Linne. 60
He had never a penny left in his purse,
Never a penny left but three,
And one was brass, another was lead,[543]
And another it was white monèy.[543]
Nowe well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,[543] 65
Nowe well-aday, and woe is mee,
For when I was the lord of Linne,
I never wanted gold nor fee.
But many a trustye friend have I,
And why shold I feel dole or care? 70
Ile borrow of them all by turnes,
Soe need I not be never bare.
But one, I wis, was not at home;
Another had payd his gold away;
Another call'd him thriftless loone, 75
And bade him sharpely wend his way.
Now well-aday, sayd the heire of Linne,
Now well-aday, and woe is me!
For when I had my landes so broad,
On me they liv'd right merrilee. 80
To beg my bread from door to door
I wis, it were a brenning shame:
To rob and steal it were a sinne:
To worke my limbs I cannot frame.
Now Ile away to lonesome lodge, 85
For there my father bade me wend;
When all the world should frown on mee,
I there shold find a trusty friend.
Part the Second.