For whatever she means they can none of them think.
Meanwhile the poor friar half stifled remains,
And gives vent to his thoughts in the following strains:—
"O, cruel Miss Fortune, my dinner thus stealing!
I wish that I never had thought of concealing.
O do spare but a tail for one mouthful, I pray thee!
I could relish roast jackass, without sauce or gravy,
I so hungry have got; while this cupboard's so close,
That I'm speckled with dew like a morn-gathered rose.
I would quickly escape, if it were not for shame.