He would neither say grace, nor sit down on his bum, Nor open his napkin, until you do come.' With that I perceived no excuse would avail, And, seeing there was no defence for a flail, I said I was ready master may'r to obey, And therefore desired him to lead me the way. We went, and ere Malkin could well lick her ear, (For it but the next door was, forsooth) we were there; Where lights being brought me, I mounted the stairs, The worst I e'er saw in my life at a mayor's: But everything else must be highly commended. I there found his worship most nobly attended, Besides such a supper as well did convince, A may'r in his province to be a great prince; As he sat in his chair, he did not much vary, In state nor in face, from our eighth English Harry; But whether his face was swelled up with fat, Or puffed up with glory, I cannot tell that. Being entered the chamber half length of a pike, And cutting of faces exceedingly like One of those little gentlemen brought from the Indies, And screwing myself into conges and cringes, By then I was half-way advanced in the room, His worship most rev'rendly rose from his bum, And with the more honour to grace and to greet me, Advanced a whole step and a half for to meet me; Where leisurely doffing a hat worth a tester, He bade me most heartily welcome to Chester. I thanked him in language the best I was able, And so we forthwith sat us all down to table. Now here you must note, and 'tis worth observation, That as his chair at one end o' th' table had station; So sweet mistress may'ress, in just such another, Like the fair queen of hearts, sat in state at the other; By which I perceived, though it seemed a riddle, The lower end of this must be just in the middle: But perhaps 'tis a rule there, and one that would mind it Amongst the town-statutes 'tis likely might find it. But now into the pottage each deep his spoon claps, As in truth one might safely for burning one's chaps, When straight, with the look and the tone of a scold, Mistress may'ress complained that the pottage was cold; 'And all 'long of your fiddle-faddle,' quoth she. 'Why, what then, Goody Two-Shoes, what if it be? Hold you, if you can, your tittle-tattle,' quoth he. I was glad she was snapped thus, and guessed by th' discourse, The may'r, not the gray mare, was the better horse, And yet for all that, there is reason to fear, She submitted but out of respect to his year: However 'twas well she had now so much grace, Though not to the man, to submit to his place; For had she proceeded, I verily thought My turn would the next be, for I was in fault: But this brush being past, we fell to our diet, And every one there filled his belly in quiet. Supper being ended, and things away taken, Master mayor's curiosity 'gan to awaken; Wherefore making me draw something nearer his chair, He willed and required me there to declare My country, my birth, my estate, and my parts, And whether I was not a master of arts;