I trowe that to a norice in this cas
It had ben hard this rewthe for to se;
Wel mighte a mooder than han cryed ‘allas!’
But nathelees so sad stedfast was she,
That she endured all adversitee, 565
And to the sergeant mekely she sayde, (510)
‘Have heer agayn your litel yonge mayde.
564. E. Cm. Pt. sad and; _rest omit_ and. E. stide-; Pt. Ln. sted-;
_rest_ stede-.
Goth now,’ quod she, ‘and dooth my lordes heste,
But o thing wol I preye yow of your grace,
That, but my lord forbad yow, atte leste 570
Burieth this litel body in som place
That bestes ne no briddes it to-race.’
But he no word wol to that purpos seye,
But took the child and wente upon his weye.