E'en for the love thou bearest to pretty Bessee."
"Then give me leave, ye gentles each one,
A song more to sing and then I'll begone;
And if that I do not win good report,
Then do not give me one groat for my sport:—
"When first our king his fame did advance,
And sought his title in delicate France,
In many places great perils past he,
But then was not born my pretty Bessee.
"And at those wars went over to fight,