13
'Nor does the wind blow in my glove,
Nor is my heart after another love.'
14
When they were doun to supper set,
The weary pain took her by the back.
15
'What ails my dearest and dayly flower?
What ails my dearest, to make such moan?'
16
'I am with child, and it's not to thee,
And oh and alas, what shall I doe!'
17
'I thought I had got a maid so mild;
But I have got a woman big with child.
18
'I thought I had got a dayly flower;
I have gotten but a common whore.'
* * * * *
19
'Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall,
And cherrish up your merry men all.'
* * * * *
20
'As I was walking once late alone,
I spy'd a lord, both brisk and young.