My kinsman, mine ancient, my bien-aime;
Now rede me my riddle, and rede it aright,
Art thou traitorous knave or my trusty knight?"
He plunged his right arm in the judgment well,
It bubbled and boiled like a cauldron of hell:
He drew and he lifted his quivering limb,
Ha! Sir Judas, how Madron had sodden him.
Now let Uter Pendragon do what he can,
Still the Tamar river will run as it ran:
Let king or let kaiser be fond or be fell,