As thing, which should tho betide,
Under the town of New Troie,
Which toke of Brute his first ioye,
In Themese, when it was flowende,
As I by Bote came rowende;
So as fortune hir tyme sette,
My leige Lord perchance I mette,
And so befelle as I cam nigh,
Out of my Bote, when he me sigh,
He bad me come into his Barge,