To lay before so great a king.
You fain would know why herald’s nose
By aid of fingers longer grows,
And why by slap upon his mug
He makes a hollow sound like “jug.”
Methinks he by these signs would say,
’Twas well he stayed so long away.
By sound of cork he first would tell,
How waiting long, you waited well.
Fired by desire for subjects’ weal,