Yet can a miller turn a scholar round
For all his art. Yea, let them go their way!
See where they run! yea, let the children play:
They get him not so lightly, by my crown."

The simple clerks go running up and down,
With "Soft, soft!--stand, stand!--hither!--back ! take care!
Now whistle thou, and I shall keep him here!"
But, to be brief, until the very night
They could not, though they tried with all their might,
The palfrey catch; he always ran so fast:
Till in a ditch they caught him at the last.

Weary and wet as beasts amid the rain,
Allen and John come slowly back again.
"Alas," quoth John, "that ever I was born!
Now are we turned into contempt and scorn.
Our corn is stolen; fools they will us call;
The Warden, and our college fellows all,
And 'specially the Miller--'las the day!"

Thus plaineth John while going by the way
Toward the mill, the bay nag in his hand.
The Miller sitting by the fire they found,
For it was night: no further could they move;
But they besought him, for Heaven's holy love,
Lodgment and food to give them for their penny.

And Simkin answered, "If that there be any,
Such as it is, yet shall ye have your part.