Hath any one done to thee wronge Any of thy fellowes here? Or is any of thy good friends dead, That thou shedst manye a teare? 40
Or, if it be my head bookes-man,[141] Aggrieved he shal bee: For no man here within my howse, Shall doe wrong unto thee.
O, it is not your head bookes-man, 45 Nor none of his degree: But, on to-morrow ere it be noone[142] All deemed[143] to die are yee.
And of that bethank your head stewàrd, And thank your gay ladie. 50 If this be true, my litle foot-page, The heyre of my land thoust bee.
If it be not true, my dear mastèr, No good death let me die. If it be not true, thou litle foot-page, 55 A dead corse shalt thou lie.[144]
O call now downe my faire ladye, O call her downe to mee: And tell my ladye gay how sicke, And like to die I bee. 60
Downe then came his ladye faire, All clad in purple and pall: The rings that were on her fingèrs, Cast light thorrow the hall.
What is your will, my owne wed-lord? 65 What is your will with mee? O see, my ladye deere, how sicke, And like to die I bee.
And thou be sicke, my own wed-lord, Soe sore it grieveth me: 70 But my five maydens and myselfe Will "watch thy" bedde for thee:[145]
And at the waking of your first sleepe, We will a hott drinke make: And at the waking of your "next" sleepe,[146] 75 Your sorrowes we will slake.
He put a silk cote on his backe, And mail of manye a fold: And hee putt a steele cap on his head, Was gilt with good red gold. 80
He layd a bright browne sword by his side, And another att his feete: "And twentye good knights he placed at hand, To watch him in his sleepe."
And about the middle time of the night, 85 Came twentye-four traitours inn: Sir Giles he was the foremost man, The leader of that ginn.[147]
Old Robin with his bright browne sword, Sir Gyles head soon did winn: 90 And scant of all those twenty-four, Went out one quick[148] agenn.
None save only a litle foot page, Crept forth at a window of stone: And he had two armes when he came in, 95 And he went back with one.
Upp then came that ladie gaye With torches burning bright: She thought to have brought sir Gyles a drinke, Butt she found her owne wedd knight. 100
The first thinge that she stumbled on It was sir Gyles his foote: Sayes, Ever alacke, and woe is mee! Here lyes my sweete hart-roote.