'Justice does loudly for him call,
And he shall have his meed:
Speak, Mr. Canynge, what thing else
At present do you need?'
'My noble liege,' good Canynge said,
'Leave justice to our God,
And lay the iron rule aside;
Be thine the olive rod.
'Was God to search our hearts and reins,
The best were sinners great;
Christ's vicar only knows no sin,
In all this mortal state.
'Let mercy rule thine infant reign,
'Twill fix thy crown full sure;
From race to race thy family
All sovereigns shall endure.
'But if with blood and slaughter thou
Begin thy infant reign,
Thy crown upon thy children's brows
Will never long remain.'
'Canynge, away! this traitor vile
Has scorned my power and me;
How canst thou, then, for such a man
Entreat my clemency?'
'My noble liege, the truly brave
Will valorous actions prize:
Respect a brave and noble mind,
Although in enemies.'
'Canynge, away! By God in heaven
That did me being give,
I will not taste a bit of bread
Whilst this Sir Charles doth live!
'By Mary, and all saints in heaven,
This sun shall be his last!'
Then Canynge dropped a briny tear,
And from the presence passed.
With heart brimful of gnawing grief,
He to Sir Charles did go,
And sat him down upon a stool,
And tears began to flow.