CHAPTER LV

EPIGRAPH.

_“So fares the unthrifty lord of Linne_ _Till all his gold is gone and spent:_ _And he maun sell his lands so broad,_ _His house and landes and all his rent._ . . . . . . . _Thus he hath sold his land so broad,_ _Both hill and holt, and moore and fenne,_ _All but a poore and lonesome lodge,_ _That stood far off in a lonely glenne._

_For soe he to his father hight:_ _‘My sonne, when I am gonne,’ sayd hee,_ _‘Then thou wilt spend thy lande so broad,_ _And thou wilt spend thy gold so free:_

_But sweare me nowe upon the roode,_ _That lonesome lodge thou’lt never spend;_ _For when all the world doth frown on thee,_ _Thou there shalt find a faithful friend.’_ . . . . . . . _Away then hyed the heire of Linne_ _O’er hill and holt, and moore and fenne,_ _Untill he came to the lonesome lodge,_ _That stood so lowe in a lonely glenne._ . . . . . . . _Then round his necke the corde he drewe,_ _And sprang aloft with his bodie:_ _When lo! the ceiling burst in twaine,_ _And to the ground came tumbling hee._

_Astonyed lay the heire of Linne,_ _Ne knewe if he were live or dead:_ _At length he looked, and sawe a bille,_ _And in it a key of gold so redd._

_He took the bill, and lookt it on,_ _Strait good comfort found he there:_ _Itt told him of a hole in the wall,_ _In which there stood three chests in-fere._

_Two were full of the beaten golde,_ _The third was full of white monèy;_ _And over them in broad lettèrs_ _These words were written so plaine to see:_

_‘Once more, my sonne, I sette thee clere;_ _Amend thy life and follies past;_ _For but thou amend thee of thy life,_ _That rope must be thy end at last.’”_

THE LAKE OF WINE.