Good Robin speer’d how they had sped.[269]
They answered him, Full ill.
That can not be, good Robin says,
Ye have been at the mill.
The mill it is a meat-rife part,
They may lick what they please,
Most like ye have been at the art,
Who would look at your ‘claiths.’ [270]
They hang’d their heads, they drooped down,
A word they could not speak.