Weary and wet, as beastës in the rain, Comes silly John, and with him comes Alein. “Alas,” quoth John, “the day that I was born! Now are we driv’n till hething 1290 and till scorn. Our corn is stol’n, men will us fonnës 1291 call, Both the wardén, and eke our fellows all, And namëly 1292 the miller, well-away!” Thus plained John, as he went by the way Toward the mill, and Bayard 1293 in his hand. The miller sitting by the fire he fand. 1294 For it was night, and forther 1295 might they not, But for the love of God they him besought Of herberow and easë,