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.