At Penticost, nowe many dayes agone,
Musike to heare at great solemnitie,
To and fro he walked him selfe all alone
In a great temple of olde antiquitie;
Tyll that by fortune he had espied me;
And ryght anone, or that I was ware,
To me he came: I knewe nought of his care.
He semeth gentle, his maners ryght good,
I behelde ryght well all his condicion:
Humble of chere and of goodly mode;