XVII
The talents of golde were on her head sette
Hanged low downe to her knee,
And everye ring on her small finger
Shone of the chrystall free.
XVIII
Saies, ‘God you save, my deere madam,’
Saies, ‘God you save and see!’—
Said, ‘You be welcome, Kyng Estmere,
Right welcome unto mee.
XIX
‘And, if you love me, as you saye,
Soe well and hartilee,
All that ever you are comen about
Soone sped now itt shal bee.’
XX
Then bespake her father deare:
‘My daughter, I saye naye;
Remember well the Kyng of Spayne,
What he sayd yesterdaye.
XXI
‘He wold pull downe my halles and castles,
And reave me of my lyfe;
I cannot blame him if he doe,
If I reave him of his wyfe.’—