lustering weather, both for wind and rain,
Through _Towcester_ I trotted with much pain,
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 o'ertook 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,
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,[8]
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 hor