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.