To get him drest without delay;
And as they entred into the door
They found their Prince, surpriz’d him sore,
A cooking something for to eat,
A sheep’s pluck on a wooden spit.
This put them all in Brinish tears,
A Prince brought to such low affairs!
But he reply’d, Why weep ye so?
’Tis good for Kings sorrow to know:
And ev’n the great, won’t after rue,