Now, alas! whedyr xal I gonne?
I wot nevyr whedyr nor to what place;
ffor oftyn tyme sorwe comyth sone,
And lenge it is or it pace,—
No comforte may I have here.
I wys wyff thou dedyst me wronge;
Alas! I traryed from the to longe,
Alle men have pety on me amonge,
ffor to my sorwe is no chere.
Maria. God, that in my body art sesyd,