Many a gossips cup in my tyme have I tasted,
And many a broche[659] and spyt have I both turned and basted;
Many a peece of bacon have I had out of thir balkes, 5
In ronnyng over the countrey, with long and were walkes;
Yet came my foote never within those doore cheekes,
To seeke flesh or fysh, garlyke, onyons, or leeke,
That ever I saw a sorte[660] in such a plyght
As here within this house appereth to my syght. 10
There is howlynge and scowlyng, all cast in a dumpe,
With whewling and pewling, as though they had lost a trump. A ii b