But he ne left not for no rain nor thunder In sickness and in mischief to visit The farthest in his parish much and lit, Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff, This noble ensample to his sheep he gaf, That first he wrought

The captains, therefore, plighted faith to follow his ensample, and in no wise to depart from his command.

Yet better were attonce to let me die, And shew the last ensample of your pride, Then to torment me thus with cruelty, To prove your powre, which I too wel have tride.