human
My londes beth set to wedde, Robyn, Untyll a certayne daye, To a ryche abbot here besyde, 215 Of Saynt Mary abbay.
gpt
What is the somme? sayd Robyn,
human
Trouthe than tell thou me;
gpt
Syr, he sayd,
human
And se where Cryst was quycke and deed 225 On the mounte of Caluarè: Fare well, frende, and have good daye, It may noo better be.
gpt
Farewell, frendes, and have good day, I ne have more to pay.
human
And now they renne awaye fro me, As bestes on a rowe; They take no more heed of me Then they me never sawe.
gpt
Hast thou ony frendes, sayd Robyn, 245
human
Thy borowes that wyll be?
gpt
I have none, then sayd the knyght,
human
But god that dyed on a tree.
gpt
Nay, by hym that me made, And shope both sonne and mone; Fynde a better borowe, sayd Robyn, 255
human
Or mony getest thou none.
gpt
I have none other, sayd the knyght,
human
The sothe for to say, But yf it be our dere lady, She fayled me never or this day.
gpt
Come now forthe, Lytell Johan, 265 And goo to my tresourè, And brynge me foure hondred pounde, And loke that it well tolde be.