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One cannot be at it day and night too; and a Man must have some place to Divert himself in, when the toils of the day are over. I found out a Coffee-House in the Rue de Merinos, or Spaan Scheep Straet, as the Flemings call it, in strange likeness to our tongue, and there, over my Tobacco, made some strange Acquaintance.
Here are a few lines to illustrate the style and language; but the whole poem must be read if one is to understand its crude strength and prophetic spirit: In a somer sesun, whon softe was the sonne, I schop me into a shroud, as I a scheep were, In habite as an heremite, unholy of werkes, Went wyde in this world, wondres to here.
Thei bryngen before hem mete alle soden, als hoot as thei comen fro the fuyr, and thei leten the smoke gon up towardes the ydoles; and than thei seyn, that the ydoles han eten; and than the religious men eten the mete aftrewardes. In that contree been white hennes withouten fetheres: but thei beren white wolle, as scheep don here.
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