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How fares your comely Daughter and your Wife? What, John and Allen ? welcome by my Life! The Miller said; what Wind has blown you hi
[ther? That which makes old Wives trudge, brought us
[together. Who keeps no Man, must his own Servant be, Our Manciple is very sick, and we Are with the Corn from our good Warden come, To see it grown'd, and bring it safely home. Dispatch it, Sim, with all the haste you may. . It shall be done (he says) without delay. What will you do while I have this in Hand ? Says John, just at the Hopper will I ftand, (In my whole Life I never saw Grist grown'd,) And mark the Clack, how justly it will found.
A ha, Chum John (says Allen) will you so ? Then will I watch how it steals out below.
Sim, at their Plot, maliciously did smile;
Their Horse hung fasten’d underneath a Shed;
John runs to fetch the Horse ; aloud he cries,
[Bounds, I saw him fcamp'ring tow'rd yor: Fenny Grounds: Wilá Mares and Colts in those low Marshes feed. Away the Scholars run with utmost speed, Forget their former cautious Husbandry; Their Sack does at the Miller's Mercy lie. He half a Bufhel of their Flour does take, Then bids his Wife fecure it in a Cake. I'll send thefe empty Boys again to School, To plod and study who's the greater Fool.
Look where the Learned Blockheads make their
[way, Let us be merry, while those Children play. These filly Scholars ran from place to place, Now here, now there, unequal was the Chace. They call him by his Name, Whistle, and cry Ho Ball; but Ball is pleas'd' with Liberty: At Night into a narrow Place they brought him, Drove him into a Ditch and there they caught him.
Weary and wet, as Cattle in the Rain, Allen, and simple John, coine back again. Alas, cries John, would I had ne'er been born! When we return we shall be laught to Scorn. Calld by the Fellows, and our Warden, Fools; Our Grist is ftoln, and we the Miller's Fools, Thus John complains ; Allen without remorse Goes to the Barn, and in he turns the Horfe.
Both cold and hungry, wet and dawbd with
[Mirei They find the Miller sitting at his Fire. We can't return, they say, before 'tis Light; So beg for Lodging in your Mill to Night.
Simkin replies, Welcome with all my Heart, I'll find you out the most convenient Part. My House is straight, but you are learned Men; You can by dint of Argument maintain, That Twenty Yards à Mile in breadth comprise: Now shew your Art, and make a Miller wise, Your merry Friend; but wet and clammy Earth, Hunger and Cold, provokes few Men to Mirth. A Man complies with necessary things, Content with what he finds, or what he brings. 'Tis Meat and Drink we earnestly desire; To warm and dry us with a better Fire.