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Qvips vpon qvestions

or, A Clownes conceite on occasion offered. bewraying a morrallised metamorphoses of changes vpon interrogatories: shewing a litle wit, with a great deale of will; or in deed, more desirous to please in it, then to profite by it. Clapt vp by a Clowne of the towne in this last restraint, hauing litle else to doe, to make a litle vse of his fickle Muse, and carelesse of carping. By Clunnyco de Curtanio Snuffe [i.e. Robert Armin]
 

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He buildes a great House.
 
 

He buildes a great House.

A man must of necessitie goe builde,
Not for a lackes a house, for one a had:
Which house hath euer been extreamely filde
With goodes and store, which me thinkes was not bad.
But though a while his little house had plentie,
Yet now of late his little house was emptie.
Thinke you his little House was not enough
To holde his store, when it was seldome filde:
Yes, what of that, he layes hand to his plough,
And makes a vow he will a bigger builde.
A hundreth men with much a do doth labour,
Hated and still despisde of euery neighbour.


Yet still goes forward this great worke of worth,
And now tis builded, though with care and cost.
What will you say now, if to crosse his mirth,
His fortunes will not equall his high boast.
Will they be strange, if he haue worse successe,
Then in his little House which did decrease.
True, twill be strange in deed: well, let it passe,
Hope well and haue well, that is so you know:
But shall a trades man where so ill a was,
Remooue his shop in hope to do well so?
No rather in his first shop let him proue.
To get good custome for his ware or loue.
Well, now tis vp, faire, ritch, and well maintaind.
God sende it keepe so, that is all I care,
His welfare greeues not mee, nor am I paind,
That he shiftes for the better: my dispaire
Is onely this, while he for wealth is wooing,
I feare his great House will haue little dooing.

Quip.

Talke what you know, yet it is ritchly stuft,
At which this iolly builder laught and puft:
His Haruest is but cutting, ear't be downe,
The winde may turne, 'tmay raine, and clowdes may frowne
How ere the weather seeme, care set a part,
He will not craue thy helpe to pitch his cart.