A sickness hath taken yond faire ladìe;
If ought befall yond lady but good,
Then blamed for ever I shall bee.
402. Come on, come on, and let her bee.
404. For to: that gay.
41.
‘If you’ll not turne yourself, my lord,
Let me goe with my chamberlaine;
We will but comfort that faire lady,
And wee will return to you againe.