"Master, what will you copen or by?
Fyne felt hattes, or spectacles to reede?
Lay down your sylver, and here you may speede."
Then to Westmynster-Gate I presently went,
When the sonn was at hyghe pryme;
Cookes to me, they tooke good entente,
And proffered me bread, with ale and wyne,
Rybbs of befe, both fat and ful fyne.
A fayre cloth they gan for to sprede;
But wantyng mony I myght not then speede.