XXVI
‘Nay, nay, your gold is gone, father,
[Yet I pray you rise and let me in!’]
‘Then naked thou came into this world,
And naked thou shalt return againe.’
XXVII
‘Nay, God forgave His death, father,
And soe I hope you will doe mee.’
‘Away, away, thou cursèd woman!
Pray God an ill death thou may dee!’
XXVIII
I’ the morning, when her father got upp,
A pittyful sight there he might see;
His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,—
And this was the end of that bonny ladye.
XXIX
But let us leave talking of this ladye
And talke some more of Yonge Andrew:
For false he was to this bonny ladye—
More pitty that he had not beene true!
XXX
He was not gone in the forest a mile,
Or half a mile into the heart of Wales,
But a shee-wolfe caught him by such a wyle
That hee must come to tell noe more tales.