This tract, said he, could it but get abroad, would save God's Church from much evil that threatened her; and to that end he was willing to risk his liberty in printing it.
Now, whether he was right or wrong, I was not scholar enough to understand all the tract said concerning the state of the Church.

But since no one wished to see the Church improved more than I, I was ready to believe my master's cause a righteous one, and told him as much.
And having once lent myself to the work, it suited my humour to carry it on without question, though not without sundry misgivings as to how far it sorted with my loyalty to my Queen to be thus flying in the face of a decree of her honourable Star Chamber.
But before this labour was done, a new task fell into my hands.

For one day, as I worked at my case, I heard a voice at the door say: "Is it here I find my Hollander, like Pegasus clipped of his wings, yet giving wings to the thoughts of the wise, so that they may fly abroad, as, in sooth, shall presently mine own burning numbers?
Salute me, my once servant, now honoured to be called my friend, and the goal of my muse-sped wanderings." It was the poet.

But how changed from the gay popinjay I knew on the _Misericorde_! He was so lean that the skin scarce held together over his bones; his face was shrunk and nipped with hunger; a ragged beard hung from his chin.

His attire was the same as he had worn when last I saw him, but so tattered and dirty and threadbare that it was a marvel to me it did not fall to pieces before my eyes.