Compassion made us friends, and so wee rested.
’Twas quickly morning, though by our short stay
Wee could not find that wee had lesse to pay.
All travellers, this heavy judgement heare:
“A handsome hostesse makes the reckoning deare;”
Her smiles, her wordes, your purses must requite them,
And every wellcome from her, adds an item.
Glad to be gon from thence at any rate,
For Bosworth wee are horst: Behold the state
Of mortall men! Foule Errour is a mother,