Thus whan Godfrey did so mery make,
There did a lady us sone overtake,
And in her hand she had a knotted whyp;
At every yerte she made Godfrey to skyppe.
Alas! he sayd, that ever I was borne;
Now am I take for all my mocke and scorne!
I loked about whan that I herde hym crye,
Seing this lady on her palfray ryde hye:
Madame, I sayde, I pray you me tell
Your proper name, and where that you dwell?