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his clothes incontinent.
Why now, ſaid he, I am undone,
alas! who can aſſure me.
My dad won’t own me for his ſon,
nor eke my wife endure me
For I have ſlain my horſes brave,
and loſt my hatchet too,
My cloaths are taken by a knave,
alas! what muſt I do?
Stark naked am I, and forlorn,
in ſome clofe place I’ll hide me,
Woe to the time when I was born,
alas! that can betide me?
Into a hollow tree he creeps,
and quaking there he ſtands,
And ſigns, and mournfully he weeps,
and often wrings his hands.
But cold and hunger brought him forth,
he wiſhed at home he were,
Thoſe wiſhes were but of little worth,
ſince he durſt not come there.
But night at length came on apace,
thus be reſolv’d to do
Altho’ he durſt not ſhew his face,
yet homeward he would go.
When he came home the doors faſt be,
yet there he made a ſtay,
And at the windows liſtens he,
to hear what they did ſay.
There did he hear his wife lament,
his father-in-law complain,
