How þat destiné schulde þat day [dyȝt] his wyrde,
At þe grene chapel, when he þe gome metes,
& bi-houes his buffet abide, with-oute debate more;
Bot quen þat comly he keuered his wyttes,
Swenges out of þe sweuenes, & swareȝ with hast.
Þe lady luflych com laȝande swete,
Felle ouer his fayre face, & fetly him kyssed;
He welcumeȝ hir worþily, with a wale chere;
He seȝ hir so glorious, & gayly atyred,
So fautles of hir fetures, & of so fyne hewes,