Brystowe
Birtha, Egwina
Birtha
Gentle Egwina, do notte preche me joie;
I cannotte joie ynne anie thynge botte weere[99].
Oh! yatte aughte schulde oure sellynesse destroie,
Floddynge the face wythe woe, & brynie teare!
Egwina
You muste, you muste endeavour for to cheere
Youre harte unto somme cherisaunced reste.
Youre loverde from the battelle wylle appere.
Ynne honnoure, & a greater love, be dreste;
Botte I wylle call the mynstrelles roundelaie;
Perchaunce the swotie sounde maie chafe your wiere[99] awaie.