Come thou agayne to me,
And, by this token she hath me sent,
She shall have such thre.
The monke was going to London ward,
There to holde grete mote,
The knyght that rode so hye on hors,
To brynge hym under fote. {46}
Whether be ye away ? sayd Robyn.
“Syr, to maners in this londe,
Too reken with our reves,