As she went along the road,
The weather being hot and dry,
There was she aware of her true-love,
At length came riding by.
VIII
She stept to him, as red as any rose,
And took him by the bridle-ring:
‘I pray you, kind sir, give me one pennỳ,
To ease my weary limb.’—
IX
‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Where that thou wast born?’—
‘At Islington, kind sir,’ said she,
‘Where I have had many a scorn.’—
X
‘I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Whether thou dost know
The bailiff’s daughter of Islington?’—
‘She’s dead, sir, long ago.’—
XI
‘Then will I sell my goodly steed,
My saddle and my bow;
I will into some far countrey,
Where no man doth me know.’—