And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme

In a mornynge of may.

Ze on thynge greves me seid Robyne,

And does my hert myche woo,

That I may not so solem day

To mas nor matyns goo.

Hit is a fourtnet and more, seyd hee,

Syn I my sauyour see ;

To day wil I to Notyngham, seid Robyn,

With the myght of mylde Mary.