And for his sake these weedes I weare,
And sacrifice my tender age;
And every day I’ll beg my bread,
To undergoe this pilgrimage.
Thus every day I’ll fast and praye,
And ever will do till I dye;
And get me to some secrett place,
For so did hee, and soe will I.
Now, gentle herdsman, ask no more,
But keep my secretts I thee pray;