Foure hondreth pounde of good money

Full wel than myght I spende.

Now have I no good, sayd the knyght,

But my chyldren and my wyfe ;

God hath shapen such an ende,

Tyll god ‘may amende[129] my lyfe.’

In what maner, sayd Robyn,

Hast thou lore thy rychès ?

For my grete foly, he sayd,

And for my kindenesse.