would stand to good conditions.
First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
While his young maister lieth o'er his head.
Second, that he do on no default,
Ever presume to sit above the salt.
Third, that he never change his trencher twise.
Fourth, that he use all common courtesies;
Sit bare at meales, and one halfe raise and wait.
Last, that he never his young maister beat,
But he must ask his mother to define,
How manie jerkes she would his breech should line.
All these observed, he could contented bee,
To give five markes and winter liverie.

The seventh and last of this book is a very just and humorous satire
against judicial astrology, which was probably in as high credit then,
as witchcraft was in the succeeding reign.

The first satire of the third book is a strong contrast of the
temperance and simplicity of former ages, with the luxury and
effeminacy of his own tines, which a reflecting reader would be apt to
think no better than the present. We find the good bishop supposes our
ancestors as poorly fed as Virgil's and Horace's rustics. He says,
with sufficient energy,

Thy grandsire's words favour'd of thrifty leekes,
Or manly garlicke; but thy furnace reekes
Hot steams of wine; and can a-loose descrie
The drunken draughts of sweet autumnitie.

The second is a short satire on erecting stately monuments to
worthless men. The following advice is nobly moral, the subsequent
sarcasm just and well expressed.

Thy monument make thou thy living deeds;
No other tomb than that true virtue needs.
What! had he nought whereby he might be knowne
But costly pilements of some curious stone?
The matter nature's, and the workman's frame;
His purse's cost: where then is Osmond's name?
Deserv'dst thou ill? well were thy name and thee,
Wert thou inditched in great secrecie.

The third gives an account of a citizen's feast, to which he was
invited, as he says,

With hollow words, and [2] overly request.

and whom he disappointed by accepting his invitation at once, and not
Maydening it; no insignificant term as he applies it: for, as he says,

Who looks for double biddings to a feast,
May dine at home for an importune guest.

After a sumptuous bill of fare, our author compares the great plenty
of it to our present notion of a miser's feast--saying,

Come there no more; for so meant all that cost;
Never hence take me for thy second host.

The fourth is leve