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“No more of this, for Heaven’s high dignity!”

Quoth then our Host, “for, lo! thou makest me

So weary of thy very simpleness,

That all so wisely may the Lord me bless,

My very ears, with thy dull rubbish, ache.

Now such a rime at once let Satan take.

This may be well called ‘doggrel rime,’” quoth he.

“Why so?” quoth I; “why wilt thou not let me

Tell all my tale, like any other man,

Since that it is the best rime that I can?”

“Mass!” quoth our Host, “if that I hear aright,

Thy scraps of rhyming are not worth a mite;

Thou dost nought else but waste away our time:—

Sir, at one word, thou shalt no longer rhyme.”