XII REYNARD THE FOX 77

nothing concealed which concerns the life of
my dread lord.’

The fox, with a sorrowful and sad counte-
nance, replied to the Queen, ‘O my dread
Sovereign Lady, at what infinite ease were I,
if J might die at this present! But, gracious
Madam, your conjuration and the health of
mine own soul so prevaileth with me, that |
will discharge my conscience, and yet speak
nothing but what I will make good with the
hazard of my life. It is true, the King should
have been pitilessly murdered by his own
people, and I must confess by those of my
dearest kindred, whom I am unwilling to
accuse, did not the health of mine own soul and
my fealty to the King command the contrary.’

The King, much perplexed at this dis-
covery, said, ‘Is this true, Reynard, which you
protest?’

The fox answered, ‘Alas, my dread Lord,
you see the case wherein I stand, and how
small a sand is left in my poor glass to run.
Can your Majesty imagine I will now dis-
semble? What can the whole world avail me,
when my soul perisheth?’

At that he trembled, and looked so pitifully,
that the Queen had great compassion of him,