And fast shee runn to Mangerton.
3
. . . . . . . .
The lord was sett downe at his meate;
When these tydings shee did him tell,
Neuer a morsell might he eate.
4
But lords, the wrunge their fingars white,
Ladyes did pull themselues by the haire,
Crying, Alas and weladay!