A Master of a house, as I have read, Must be the first man up, and last in bed. With the sun rising he must walk his grounds; See this, view that, and all the other bounds: Shut every gate; mend every hedge that’s torn, Either with old, or plant therein new thorn; Tread o’er his glebe, but with such care, that where He sets his foot, he leaves rich compost there.