by, and calls,
Nought now but solitary and naked walls.
Well a day, etc.

Philemon's cottage was turn'd into gold,
Into gold, for harbouring Jove:
Rich men their houses up for to keep,
For to keep, might their greatness move;
But, in the city, they say, they do live,
Where gold by handfulls away they do give;—
I'll away,
And thither, therefore, I purpose to pass,
Hoping at London to find the Golden Ass.
I'll away, I'll away,
I'll away, for here's no stay.