‘No ferther that thou gone;
Yf thou doost, by dere worthy God,
Thy deth is in my honde.
220.
‘And evyll thryfte on thy hede,’ sayd Lytell Johan,
‘Ryght under thy hattë’s bonde,
For thou hast made our mayster wroth,
He is fastynge so longe.’
221.
‘Who is your mayster?’ sayd the monke.