For he gyveth but litel silver,
Ne dooth hym noght dyne delicatly,
Ne drynke wyn ofte.
A straw for the stuwes!
Thei stoode noght, I trowe,
Hadde thei no thyng but of poore men,
Hir houses stoode untyled.
"And though sleuthe suwe poverte,
And serve noght God to paie,
9410