XXVIII.
She offers him a gold ring,
Ho raȝt hym a riche rynk1 of red golde werkeȝ,
Wyth a starande ston, stondande alofte,
Þat bere blusschande bemeȝ as þe bryȝt sunne;
Wyt ȝe wel, hit watȝ worth wele ful hoge.
Bot þe renk hit renayed, & redyly he sayde,
"I wil no gifteȝ for gode, my gay, at þis tyme;
I haf none yow to norne, ne noȝt wyl I take."
Ho bede hit hym ful bysily, & he hir bode wernes,