70
RAYNER:
To feast his jolly mates in wood and wild;
Yea, been the very arbiter of fortune,
And as his freakish humors bit, hath lifted
At one broad sweep the churl's fav'd gear to leave it
In the poor lab'rer's cot, whose hard-worn palm
Had never chuck'd a ducat 'gainst its fellow.
HARDIBRAND.
But list! he sings again.
SONG.
Light on the hanging bough we'll swing,
Or range the thicket cool,
Or sit upon the bank and sing,
Or bathe us in the pool.
HARDIBRAND.
SONG.
Well, good-man time, or blunt or keen,
Move thee slow or take thy leisure,
Longest day will bring its e'en,
Weary lives but run a measure.
HARDIBRAND.
Thy measure has its stint.
