Great sounding words were tossed about like hay
By kings and queens.

How the plot turned about I watched in vain,
Though for grief I cried,
As one and all they faded, poisoned or slain,
In great agony died.

Father, you'll drive me forth never to return,
Doubting me your son--

Father

So I shall, John

John

--but that glory for which I burn
Shall be soon begun.

I shall wear great boots, shall strut and shout,
Keep my locks curled.
The fame of my name shall go ringing about
Over half the world.

Father

Horror that your Prince found, John may you find,
Ever and again
Dying before the house in such torture of mind