6
Fair ladies, brook not bloody wars,
sweet peace their pleasure breed,
The nourisher of hearts content,
whose fancy first did feed.
My Rose shall rest in Woodstock bower,
with music's sweet delight,
While I among the piercing pikes
against my foes do fight.
My Rose in robes of pearl and gold,
with diamonds rich and bright,
Shall dance the galliards of my love,
while I my foes do smite.
And you, Sir Thomas, whom I trust
to be my love's defence,
Be careful of my gallant Rose,
when I am parted hence.
And here withal he fetch'd a sigh,
as tho' his heart would break,
And Rosamond, for very grief,
not one plain word could speak.
And at their parting well they might
in heart be grieved sore,
After that day fair Rosamond
the King did see no more.
For when his Grace passed the seas,
and into France was gone,
Queen Eleanor with envious heart,
to Woodstock came anon.
