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I'll go unto my Gonorell;

My second child, I know, Will be more kind and pitiful,

And will relieve my woe.

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Then back again to Gonorell,

The woeful king did hie,
That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.

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Where she, true-hearted noble queen,

Was in the battel slain:
Yet he good king, in his old days,

Pofleft his crown again.

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THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY:

TT was a friar of orders gray,
1 Walkt forth to tell his beades;
And he met with a lady faire,

Clad in a pilgrime's weedes.

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