Albeytte wythout wommen menne were pheeres To salvage kynde, and wulde botte lyve to slea, Botte wommenne efte the spryghte of peace so cheres, Tochelod yn Angel joie heie Angeles bee; Go, take thee swythyn to thie bedde a wyfe; Bee bante or blessed hie yn proovynge marryage lyfe.

Daunce ne moe atte hallie daie; Lycke a reynynge ryver bee: Mie love ys dedde, Gon to hys death-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree.

Blacke hys cryne as the wyntere nyghte, Whyte hys rode as the sommer snowe, Rodde hys face as the mornynge lyghte; Cale he lyes ynne the grave belowe: Mie love ys dedde, Gon to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree.

lyes bie the wyllowe tree: Mie love ys dedde, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Alle underre the wyllowe tree.

the dethe-owle loude dothe synge, To the nyghte-mares as heie goe: Mie love ys dedde, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree.

the whyte moone sheenes onne hie; Whyterre ys mie true loves shroude, Whyterre yanne the mornynge skie, Whyterre yanne the evenynge cloude: Mie love ys dedde, Gon to hys deathe-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree.

Heere, uponne mie true loves grave, Schalle the baren fleurs be layde, Nee one hallie Seyncte to save Al the celness of a mayde: Mie love ys dedde, Gonne to hys deathe-bedde, Alle under the wyllowe tree.

Wythe mie hondes I'lle dente the brieres Rounde his hallie corse to gre; Ouphante fairie, lyghte youre fyres, Heere mie boddie stylle schalle bee: Mie love ys dedde, Gon to hys death-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree.

Comme, wythe acorne-coppe and thorne Drayne mie hartys blodde awaie; Lyfe and all yttes goode I scorne, Daunce bie nete, or feaste by dale: Mie love ys dedde, Gon to hys death-bedde, Al under the wyllowe tree.

Haste to thie church-glebe-house, ashrewed manne; Haste to thie kiste, thie onlie dorture bedde: Cale as the claie whiche will gre on thie hedde Is Charitie and Love aminge highe elves; Knightis and Barons live for pleasure and themselves.

Iambicum Trimetrum Vnhappie Verse, the witnesse of my vnhappie state, Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying Thought, and fly forth vnto my love whersoeuer she be: Whether lying reastlesse in heauy bedde, or else Sitting so cheerelesse at the cheerfull boorde, or else Playing alone carelesse on hir heauenlie virginals.

Hire shoon were lacëd on hire leggës hie; She was a primerole, a piggesnie,[70] For any lord, to liggen in his bedde, Or yet for any good yemán to wedde.

"For him was lever han at his beddes hed Twenty bokes clothed in black or red, Of Aristotle, and his philosophie, Than robes riche, or fidel, or sautrie.

As I sayd erst, when comen is the Maie, That in my bedde there dawneth me no daie That I nam up and walking in the mede To see this floure agenst the Sunne sprede, When it up riseth early by the morrow That blisfull sight softeneth all my sorrow.

or Scott unentertaining?" "You remind me," said I, laughing, "of the student in Chaucer, who desired for his only pleasure and society, "'-at his bedde's head A'twenty bokes clothed in black and red, Of Aristotle and his philosophy!'