I come now at ende to shewe what eche man wolde.
The fyrst sewter before your selfe dyd appere,
A gentylman desyrynge wether clere, 1075
Clowdy nor mysty, nor no wynde to blowe,
For hurte in hys huntynge; and then, as ye know,
The marchaunt sewde, for all of that kynde,
For wether clere and mesurable wynde
As they maye best bere theyr saylys to make spede. 1080
And streyght after thys there came to me, in dede,
An other man who namyd hym-selfe a ranger,