A shivering rogue ye'll see,

"Sirs, if ye will my life to spill,
Then hang me on a tree,
Since rogue am I, a rogue I'll die,
A roguish death for me.

"But i' the wind the leaves shall find
Small voices for my dole,

"And when I'm dead sigh o'er my head
Prayers for my poor rogue soul;
For I'm a rogue, and thou 'rt a rogue,
And so in faith is he,
As we are rogues, so ye are rogues,
All rogues in verity."

The singing done, the Duke sat lost in thought,
What time Sir Pertinax did stamp and snort:
"Ha, by the Mass! Now, by the Holy Rood!
Ne'er heard I roguish rant so bold and lewd!
He should be whipped, hanged, quartered, flayed alive--"

"Then," quoth the Duke, "pay him gold pieces five,"
"How--pay a rogue?" the Knight did fierce retort.
"A ribald's rant--give good, gold pieces for't?
A plague! A pest! The knave should surely die--"
But here he met Duke Joc'lyn's fierce blue eye,
And silent fell and in his poke did dive,
And slowly counted thence gold pieces five,