and grow like a cows tail, downward:  And why all this?  We have a clerk of the market not worth three figgs, and values more the getting of a doit himself, than any of our lives:  ’Tis this makes him laugh in his sleeve; for he gets more money in a day than many an honest man’s whole estate:  I know not how he got the estate he has; but if we had any thing of men about us, he would not hug himself as he does, but now the people are grown to this pass, that they are lyons at home, and foxes abroad:  For my part, I have eaten up my cloaths already, and if corn holds at the rate it does, I shall be forc’d to sell house and all:  For what will become of us, if neither gods nor men pity us?  Let me never enjoy my friends more, than I believe all this comes from Heaven; for no one thinks there is any such thing; no one keeps a fast, or value Jupiter a hair, but shuts his eyes and reckons what he is worth.  Time was, when matrons went bare-foot with dishevel’d hair, pure minds, and pray’d him to send rain, and forthwith it rained pitcher-fulls, or then or never, and every one was pleased:  Now the gods are no better than mice; as they tread, their feet are wrapt in wooll; and because ye are not superstitious your lands yield nothing.”

“More civilly, I beseech ye,” said Echion the hundred-constable; “it is one while this way, and another while that, said the country-man when he lost his speckled hogg:  What is not to day may be to morrow; and thus is life hurried about, so help me Hercules, a country is said not to be the better that it has many people in it, tho’ ours at present labours under that difficulty, but it is no fault of hers:  We must not be so nice, Heaven is equally distant every where; were you in another place you’d say hoggs walked here ready dress’d:  And now I think on’t, we shall have an excellent show these holy-days, a fencing-prize exhibited to the people; not of slaves bought for that purpose, but most of them freemen.  Our patron Titus has a large soul, but a very devil in his drink, and cares not a straw which side gets the better:  I think I should know him, for I belong to him; he’s of a right breed both by father and mother, no mongril.  They are well provided with weapons, and will fight it out to the last:  the theatre will look like a butchers shambles, and he has where-withal to do it; his father left him a vast sum, and let him make ducks and drakes with it never so much, the Estate will bear it, and he always carries the reputation of it.  He has his waggon horses, a woman-carter, and Glyco’s steward, who was taken a-bed with his mistress; what a busle’s here between cuckolds and cuckold-makers!  But this Glyco a money-broker, condemned his steward to fight with beasts; and what was that but to expose himself for another? where lay the servant’s crime, who perhaps was oblig’d to do what he did:  She rather deserv’d to be brain’d, than the bull that tossed her; but he that cannot come at the arse, thrashes at the pack-saddle: