—‘If he shall catch us, woe and fear!’
One fear barass’d the Mordomo,
Other fear assail’d the King:
Which of them had reason greater,
Soon unto you will I sing.
Green leaves saw I in the vineyard,
Grapes quite ripe and richly sweet;
But, by his tender conscience guarded,
Quoth the King:—‘I will not eat.’
Seeketh now the Count his tower,