When y no dar nouȝt wiþ mi wiif,
No hye to me, o word speke.
Allas! whi nil min hert breke?
Parfay!' quaþ he, 'tide wat bitide,
Whider so þis leuedis ride, 340
Þe selue way ichil streche;
Of liif no deþ me no reche.'
His sclauain he dede on also spac,
And henge his harp opon his bac,
And had wel gode wil to gon,— 345