So then we'd have ye speak us--aye or no,
Saw ye our errant lady this way go?
And, that ye may her know for whom we seek,
Her just description fully I will speak:
Her hair night-black, her eyes the self-same hue,
Her habit brown, unless 't were red or blue,
And if not blue why then mayhap 'tis green,
Since she by turns of all such hues is seen--"
"Stay, sir," quoth Jocelyn, "'tis plain to see
No maid but a chameleon is she,
For here we have her brown and green and blue,
And if not brown then rosy is her hue,
And, if not red, why then 'tis very plain
That brown she is or blue or green again.
Now fain, sir, would I ask and question whether
She e'er is seen these colours all together?
"O fain would I a lady spy,
By countryside or town,
Who may be seen all blue and green,
Unless she's red or brown."
But now, while fierce the little man did scowl,
The rosy Friar, sly-smiling 'neath his cowl,
His visage meek, spake thus in dulcet tone:
"Sir Fool, our Reeve is something mixed, I'll own,
Though he by divers colours is bemused,
Learn ye this truth, so shall he stand excused:
Our Duchess Benedicta, be it known,
Hath this day from her several guardians flown.
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