The Commentary of Father Monserrate 3.1.2

3.1.2

'O King,' he said, 'order me not to the gibbet, for nature has bestowed upon me marvellous powers in a certain direction.' 'Well,' said the King, 'in what direction do you thus excel, O miserable wretch?' 'I can sing beautifully.' 'Then sing.' The wretched fellow then began to sing, in a voice so discordant and absurd that everyone began to laugh and murmur, and the King himself could scarcely control his smiles. When the guilty man perceived this, he put in, 'Pardon me this poor performance, O King. For these guards of yours dragged me along so roughly and cruelly, on a hot and dusty road, and pummelled me so brutally with their fists, that my throat is full of dust, and my voice so husky that I cannot do myself justice in singing.' The King rewarded this witty saying with such signal grace that for the sake of this one man he pardoned both the fellow himself and his companions.