You, (God defende!) syth you descend
Of so grete a lynage.
Now understonde; to Westmerlande,
Whiche is my herytage,
I wyl you brynge; and wyth a rynge,
By wey of maryage
I wyl you take, and lady make,
As shortly as I can:
Thus haue ye wone an erles son
And not a banysshyd man.