Sorwe wyl sle ȝow to se me thus revylyd.
But son God soferyth thys us must sofron nede,
Now wyl I go to my shepherdys and with hem abyde,
And ther evyrmore levyn in sorwe and in drede,
Shame makyth many man his hed for to hyde.
Ha! how de ȝe, felas? in ȝow is lytel pryde,
How fare ȝe and my bestys? this wete wolde I veryly.
Primus pastor. A! welcome hedyr! blyssyd mayster, we pasture hem ful wyde,
They be lusty and fayr and grettly multyply.
How do ȝe, mayster? ȝe loke al hevyly!