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72 Yet, to believe it, you must think The Jews did put a candle in 't; And then 'twas wonderous light. There's one saint there did lose his nose, Another 's head, another 's toes, An elbow and a thumb. But, when we had seen these holy rags, We went to our inn, and took our nags, And so away did come. I came to Paris on the Seine; 'Twas wonderous fair, but little clean: 'Tis Europe's greatest town. How strange it is, I need not tell it, For all the world may eas'liest smell it, As they pass up and down. There's many strange things for to see— The Palace, the great Gallery; Place Royal doth excel; The new bridge and the statue there: At Notre Dame, St. Christopher, The steeple bears the bell. For learning the University, And for old clothes the Frippary— That house the queen did build; St. Innocent, whose teeth devours Dead corpse in four-and-twenty hours— And there the king was kill'd. The Basteen and St. Denis Street; The Spital, like to London Fleet; The Arsenal, no toy. But, if you'll see the prettiest thing, You must go to court, and see the king: O, 'tis a hopeful boy! For he by all his dukes and peers Is reverenced for wit as much as years: Nor may you think it much; For he with little switch can play, And can make fine dirt-pies of clay— O, never king made such! A bird, that can but kill a fly, Or prates, doth please his Majesty, 'Tis known to every one: The Duke of Guise gave him a parrot; And he had twenty cannons for it, And a great galleon.