Classic Poem

There's none, that dwell about them, wish them downe
But all come in, the farmer, and the clowne:
And no-one empty-handed, to salute
Thy lord, and lady, though they have no sute.
Some bring a capon, some a rurall cake,
Some nuts, some apples; some that thinke they make
The better cheeses, bring 'hem; or else send
By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend
This way to husbands; and whose baskets beare
An embleme of themselves, in plum, or peare.
But what can this (more than expresse their love)
Adde to their free provisions, farre above
The neede of such? whose liberall boord doth flow,
With all, that hospitalitie doth know!
Where comes no guest, but is allow'd to eate
Without his feare, and of thy lords owne meate:
Where the same beere, and bread, and selfe-same wine,
That is his Lordships, shall be also mine.