When he returns
from his field, he asks, not without much rage, what became of the loose
crust in his cupboard, and who hath rioted among his leeks. He never
eats good meal but on his neighbour's trencher, and there he makes
amends to his complaining stomach for his former and future fasts. He
bids his neighbours to dinner, and when they have done, sends in a
trencher for the shot. Once in a year, perhaps, he gives himself leave
to feast, and for the time thinks no man more lavish; wherein he lists
not to fetch his dishes from far, nor will be beholden to the shambles;
his own provision shall furnish his board with an insensible cost, and
when his guests are parted, talks how much every man devoured, and how
many cups were emptied, and feeds his family with the mouldy remnants a
month after. If his servant break but an earthen dish for want of light,
he abates it out of his quarter's wages. He chips his bread, and sends
it back to exchange for staler. He lets money, and sells time for a
price, and will not be importuned either to prevent or defer his day;
and in the meantime looks for secret gratuities, besides the main
interest, which he sells and returns into the stock. He breeds of money
to the third generation, neither hath it sooner any being, than he sets
it to beget more. In all things he affects secrecy and propriety; he
grudgeth his neighbour the water of his well, and next to stealing he
hates borrowing. In his short and unquiet sleeps he dreams of thieves,
and runs to the door and names more men than he hath.
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