Chapter 13

Now, pray observe the second part, And you shall hear his sottish heart; He did the tavern so frequent, Till he three hundred pounds had spent.

This being done, we understand He pawned the deeds of all his land Unto a tavern-keeper, who, When poor, did him no favour show.

For, to fulfil his father’s will, He did command this cottage still: At length great sorrow was his share, Quite moneyless, with garments bare.

Being not able for to work, He in the tavern there did lurk; From box to box, among rich men, Who oftentimes reviled him then.

To see him sneak so up and down, The vintner on him he did frown; And one night kicked him out of door, Charging him to come there no more.

He in a stall did lie all night, In this most sad and wretched plight; Then thought it was high time to see His father’s promised legacy.

Next morning, then, oppressed with woe, This young man got an iron crow; And, as in tears he did lament, Unto this little cottage went.

When he the door had open got, This poor, distressèd, drunken sot, Who did for store of money hope, He saw a gibbet and a rope.

Under this rope was placed a stool, Which made him look just like a fool; Crying, ‘Alas! what shall I do? Destruction now appears in view!

‘As my father foresaw this thing, What sottishness to me would bring; As moneyless, and free of grace, His legacy I will embrace.’

So then, oppressed with discontent, Upon the stool he sighing went; And then, his precious life to check, Did place the rope about his neck.

Crying, ‘Thou, God, who sitt’st on high, And on my sorrow casts an eye; Thou knowest that I’ve not done well,— Preserve my precious soul from hell.

‘’Tis true the slighting of thy grace, Has brought me to this wretched case; And as through folly I’m undone, I’ll now eclipse my morning sun.’

When he with sighs these words had spoke, Jumped off, and down the gibbet broke; In falling, as it plain appears, Dropped down about this young man’s ears,

In shining gold, a thousand pound! Which made the blood his ears surround: Though in amaze, he cried, ‘I’m sure This golden salve the sore will cure!

‘Blessed be my father, then,’ he cried, ‘Who did this part for me so hide; And while I do alive remain, I never will get drunk again.’