5
I will to him a letter send,
Remembering of the oath he made,
Within the tender bower where
My tender heart lie first betrayed.
Her trembling land a letter wrote,
My dearest dear, what must I do?
Alas! what have I done, that I
Am forsaken and forgot by you?
I could have many a lord of fame,
Who little knows my misery;
I did forsake a worthy knight,
'Tis for the love I bear to thee.
And now my little infant dear
Will quickly spread abroad my shame,
One line of comfort to me send,
Ere by your cruelty I am slain.
This answer he to her did send,
Your insolence amazeth me,
To think that I should marry one
With whom before I have been free.
Indeed I will no father be
Unto any bastard you may bear,
So take no further thought of me,
No more from you pray let me hear.
When she this letter did receive,
She wrung her hands and wept full sore,
And every day she still would range,
To lament within that pleasant bower
