"Might by thy beauty be clean put away."
They no sooner this pleasant word spoke,
But in comes the beggar in a silken cloak,
A velvet cap and a feather had he,
And now a musician, forsooth, he would be.
And being led in, from catching of harm,
He had a dainty lute under his arm;
Said, "Please you to hear any music of me,
A song I will give you of pretty Bessee."
With that his lute he twanged straightway,