Without impediment. The corn grows there
In broad and lovely fields, and all the land
Is fair as any garden to the view.

WALTER.
But, father, tell me, wherefore haste we not
Away to this delightful land, instead
Of toiling here, and struggling as we do?

TELL.
The land is fair and bountiful as Heaven;
But they who till it never may enjoy
The fruits of what they sow.

WALTER.
Live they not free,
As you do, on the land their fathers left them?

TELL.
The fields are all the bishop's or the king's.

WALTER.
But they may freely hunt among the woods?

TELL.
The game is all the monarch's--bird and beast.

WALTER.
But they, at least, may surely fish the streams?