“But I am rather bad in my inside.
By what I’ve eaten I am quite upset,
And nowise fitted for a journey yet.”
“What was it?” asked Sir Bruin, quite prepared,
For Reynard had not thrown him off his guard.
“Ah,” quoth the Fox, “what boots it to explain?
E’en your kind pity could not ease my pain.
Since flesh I have abjured, for my soul’s weal,
I’m often sadly put to’t for a meal.
I bear my wretched life as best I can;