Bard Bracey alone without shoe or stocking;
“Bard Bracey, Bard Bracey,” the Baron exclaimed,
“To remain in this manner, pray arn’t you ashamed?”
“Bard Bracey, Bard Bracey,” the Baron he cried,
“Go back, go back, to your own bedside,
Or with this good cudgel of forest renown,
As I hope to be saved, I will knock you down.”
Bard Bracey hath girt up his loins and fled,
And the Baron eftsoons has gone to bed;
And a noise is heard, an inscrutable din,