19
When he sawe the lion of England out blaisse,
The streemers and the roose about his eye,
Full soonne he let his toppe-saill fall;
That was a tooken of curtissie.
20
My lord he cald of Henry Huntte,
Bad Harry Hunt both stay and stande;
Saies, Tell me where thy dwellinge is,
And whome unto thye shippe belonnges.