This John goth out and fynt his hors away—
And gan to crie, harow, and wele away!—
Our hors is lost—Aleyn, for Godde's banes,
Stepe on thi feet—come of man attanes!
Allas, oure wardeyn has his palfrey lorn!
This Aleyn al forgat bothe mele and corn—
Al was out of his mynde, his housbonderie.
What—whilke way is he goon? he gan to crie.
The wyf come lepynge in at a ren;
She saide—Allas, youre hors goth to the fen