¶ Sone þo she myht stonde,
She tar hir heer, & wrong hir hond,
& made reuful bere.
Line 147
'Nou þou wilt my lef of londe,
Loke I. may after þe long,
Alas, þat I. ded nere.
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// Allas, mi lef, what hastou þouht,
Iu myche care þou hast me brouht,
on me þou hast sinne.
Line 153
After þat þou art gon,
Vpbreid me tyt manyon
of þi riche kinne.
Line 156
// Awey, mi lef, þat I. was bore,
ffor al my blisse is forlore,
& nou waxeþ my pine.
Line 159
Alone her-inne I. wile wone,
& euere eft mannes mone shone,
Al for loue þine.'
Line 162
