Tom—garlanded with squat and surly
Tom; then Tom's fallowbootfellow piles
By him and rips out rockfire homeforth—sturdy Dick;
Tom Heart-at-ease,
Tom Navvy: he is all for his
Sure, 's bed now.
Low be it: lustily he his low lot
That ne'er need hunger,
Tom;
Tom seldom sick,
Seldomer heartsore; that treads through, prickproof,
Thousands of thorns, thoughts) swings though.
Little I reck ho! lacklevel in, if all had bread:
What!
Country is honour enough in all us—lordly head,
With heaven's lights high hung round, or,
That mammocks, mighty foot.
But no way sped,
Nor mind nor mainstrength; gold go
With, perilous,
O nó; nor yet plod safe shod sound; Undenizened, beyond
Of earth's glory, earth's ease, all; no one, nowhere,
In wide the world's weal; rare gold, bold steel, bare In both; care, but share care—This, by Despair, bred Hangdog dull; by Rage,
Manwolf, worse; and their packs infest the age.
