Whann the fayre apple, rudde as even skie,
    Do bende the tree unto the fructyle grounde; 185
    When joicie peres, and berries of blacke die,
    Doe daunce yn ayre, and call the eyne arounde;
    Thann, bee the even foule, or even fayre,
  Meethynckes mie hartys joie ys steynced wyth somme care.

  SECONDE MYNSTRELLE.

    Angelles bee wrogte to bee of neidher kynde; 190
    Angelles alleyne fromme chafe[45] desyre bee free;
    Dheere ys a somwhatte evere yn the mynde,
    Yatte, wythout wommanne, cannot stylled bee;
    Ne seyncte yn celles, botte, havynge blodde and tere[46],
  Do fynde the spryte to joie on syghte of womanne fayre:  195

    Wommen bee made, notte for hemselves, botte manne,
    Bone of hys bone, and chyld of hys desire;
    Fromme an ynutyle membere fyrste beganne,
    Ywroghte with moche of water, lyttele fyre;
    Therefore theie seke the fyre of love, to hete 200
  The milkyness of kynde, and make hemselfes complete.

    Albeytte, wythout wommen, menne were pheeres
    To salvage kynde, and wulde botte lyve to flea,
    Botte wommenne efte the spryghte of peace so cheres,
    Tochelod yn Angel joie heie Angeles bee; 205
    Go, take thee swythyn[47] to thie bedde a wyfe,
  Bee bante or blessed hie, yn proovynge marryage lyfe.

  Anodher Mynstrelles Songe, bie Syr Thybbot Gorges.

  As Elynour bie the green lesselle was syttynge,
    As from the sones hete she harried,
  She sayde, as herr whytte hondes whyte hosen was knyttynge, 210
    Whatte pleasure ytt ys to be married!

  Mie husbande, Lorde Thomas, a forrester boulde,
    As ever clove pynne, or the baskette,
  Does no cherysauncys from Elynour houlde,
    I have ytte as soone as I aske ytte. 215

  Whann I lyved wyth mie fadre yn merrie Clowd-dell. 
    Tho’ twas at my liefe to mynde spynnynge,
  I stylle wanted somethynge, botte whatte ne coulde telle,
    Mie lorde fadres barbde haulle han ne wynnynge. 
  Eche mornynge I ryse, doe I sette mie maydennes, 220
    Somme to spynn, somme to curdell, somme bleachynge,
  Gyff any new entered doe aske for mie aidens,
    Thann swythynne you fynde mee a teachynge.

  Lorde Walterre, mie fadre, he loved me welle,
    And nothynge unto mee was nedeynge, 225
  Botte schulde I agen goe to merrie Cloud-dell,
    In sothen twoulde bee wythoute redeynge.

  Shee sayde, and lorde Thomas came over the lea,
    As hee the fatte derkynnes was chacynge,
  Shee putte uppe her knyttynge, and to hym wente shee; 230
    So wee leave hem bothe kyndelie embracynge.