These lasses lightly fall in despair.
Now to Nimmegen I repair
To get me tidings without fail.
Men oft must hear a sorry tale.
After these words is Sir Gysbrecht gone to his sister’s house, asking after Mary, the niece of them both, the which answered rudely that she wist nought of her. Whereat he was right sad, saying to her thus:
Alas, my sister, ye deceive me,
When ye say that of Mary ye nothing wot.
AUNT
Nay, good clodpate John, believe me.
UNCLE