So did these brainless asses, all amazed,
With admirable Nonsense talked and gazed,
They knew my state (although not told by me)
That I could scarcely go, they all could see,
They drank of my beer, that to me was given,
But gave me not a drop to make all even,
And that which in my mind was most amiss,
My hostess she stood by and saw all this,
Had she but said, come near the house my friend,
For this day here shall be your journey's end.
Then had she done the thing which [she] did not,
And I in kinder words had paid the shot.
I do entreat my friends, (as I have some)
If they to Daventry do chance to come,
That they will baulk that inn; or if by chance,
Or accident into that house they glance,
Kind gentlemen, as they by you reap profit,
My hostess care of me, pray tell her of it,[1]
Yet do not neither; lodge there when you will,
You for your money shall be welcome still.
From thence that night, although my bones were sore,
I made a shift to hobble seven miles more:
The way to Dunchurch, foul with dirt and mire,
Able, I think, both man and horse to tire.
On Dunsmoor Heath, a hedge doth there enclose
Grounds, on the right hand, there I did repose.
- ↑ See Dedication to The Scourge of Baseness.
