Hee cutt the papps beside her brest,
& bad her wish her will,
& he cutt the eares beside her heade,
& bade her wish on still.
30.
‘Mickle is the man’s blood I haue spent
To doe thee & me some good’;
Sayes, ‘Euer alacke, my fayre Lady,
I thinke that I was woode!’
31.