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Poem by John Fletcher
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CAST our cares and caps away: This is beggars' holiday! At the crowning of our king, Thus we ever dance and sing. In the world look out and see, Where so happy a prince as he? Where the nation lives so free, And as merry as do we? Here at liberty we are, And enjoy our ease and rest: To the field we are not pressed; Nor are called into the town, To be troubled with the gown. Hang all offices, we cry, And the magistrate too, by! When the subsidy's increased, We are not a penny sessed; Nor will any go to law With the beggar for a straw. All which happiness, he brags, He doth owe unto his rags.
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