XIII. NO TITTLE OF TITLE.

TWO young gentlemen were comparing their revenues together, vying which of them were the best. My demesnes, saith the one, is worth two, but mine, saith the other, is worth four hundred pounds a year.

My farms, saith the one, are worth four, but mine, saith the other, are worth eight hundred pounds a year.

My estate, saith the one, is my own, to which the other returned no answer, as conscious to himself that he kept what lawfully belonged to another.

I care not how small my means be, so they be my means: I mean my own without any injury to others. What is truly gotten may be comfortably kept. What is otherwise may be possessed, but not enjoyed.

Upon the question, What is the worst bread which is eaten? One answered, in respect of the coarseness thereof, Bread made of beans. 199Another said, Bread made of acorns. But the third hit the truth, who said, Bread taken out of other men’s mouths, who are the true proprietaries thereof. Such bread may be sweet in the mouth to taste, but is not wholesome in the stomach to digest.