“Flounder, flounder in the sea,

Come, I pray thee, here to me;”

For my wife, good Ilsabil,

Wills not as I’d have her will.

“Flounder, flounder in the sea, Come, I pray thee, here to me;” For my wife, good Ilsabil, Wills not as I’d have her will.

“Well, what does she want, then?” said the Flounder.

“Alas,” said the man, “she wants to be Pope.”

“Go to her then,” said the Flounder; “she is Pope already.”