Then a olde moone shal while a man may go a mile. 810

By that tyme the god hath all made an ende, C iv b

Ye shall se how the wether wyll amende.

By saynt Anne, he goeth to worke even boldely.

I thynke hym wyse ynough; for he loketh oldely!

Wherfore, maystres, be ye now of good chere; 815

For though in his presens ye can not appere,

Tell me your mater and let me alone.

Mayhappe I will thynke on you when you be gone.

Gentylwoman. Forsoth, the cause of my commynge is this: