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8
Taylor's Penniless Pilgrimage.

Two miles from thence, we sat us down and dined,
Well bulwarked by a hedge, from rain and wind.
We having fed, away incontinent,
With weary pace toward Daventry we went.
Four miles short of it, one overtook me there,
And told me he would leave a jug of beer,
At Daventry at the Horse-shoe for my use.
I thought it no good manners to refuse,
But thanked him, for his kind unasked gift,
Whilst I was lame as scarce a leg could lift,
Came limping after to that stony town,
Whose hard streets made me almost halt right down.
There had my friend performed the words he said,
And at the door a jug of liquor staid,
The folks were all informed, before I came,
How, and wherefore my journey I did frame,
Which caused mine hostess from her door come out,
(Having a great wart rampant on her snout.)
The tapsters, hostlers, one another call,
The chamberlains with admiration all,
Were filled with wonder, more than wonderful,
As if some monster sent from the Mogul,
Some elephant from Africa, I had been,
Or some strange beast from the Amazonian Queen.
As buzzards, widgeons, woodcocks, and such fowl.
Do gaze and wonder at the broad-faced owl,