Loute for me nouthe,

That he have pité on me, putour,

For his pure merci.'

'With that I schal,' quod that schrewe,

'Saterdaies, for thi love,

Drynke with the doke,

And dine but ones.'

I, gulti in gost,

To God I me schrive,

As in likyng of lecherige