Part 2 (1/2)

MADGE: YE HOYDEN

At Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scofft, Ffor that a romping wench was shee-- ”Now marke this rede,” they bade her oft, ”Forsooken sholde your folly bee!”

But Madge, ye hoyden, laught & cried, ”Oho, oho,” in girlish glee, And noe thing mo replied.

II

No griffe she had nor knew no care, But gayly rompit all daies long, And, like ye brooke that everywhere Goes jinking with a gladsome song, Shee danct and songe from morn till night,-- Her gentil harte did know no wrong, Nor did she none despight.

III

Sir Tomas from his n.o.blesse halle Did trend his path a somer's daye, And to ye hoyden he did call And these ffull evill words did say: ”O wolde you weare a silken gown And binde your haire with ribands gay?

Then come with me to town!”

IV

But Madge, ye hoyden, shoke her head,-- ”I'le be no lemman unto thee For all your golde and gownes,” shee said, ”ffor Robin hath bespoken mee.”

Then ben Sir Tomas sore despight, And back unto his hall went hee With face as ashen white.

V

”O Robin, wilt thou wed this girl, Whenas she is so vaine a sprite?”

So spak ffull many an envious churle Unto that curteyse countrie wight.

But Robin did not pay no heede; And they ben wed a somer night & danct upon ye meade.

VI

Then sca.r.s.e ben past a yeare & daye Whan Robin toke unto his bed, And long, long time therein he lay, Nor colde not work to earn his bread; in soche an houre, whan times ben sore, Sr. Tomas came with haughtie tread & knockit at ye doore.

VII

Saies: ”Madge, ye hoyden, do you know how that you once despighted me?

But He forgiff an you will go my swete harte lady ffor to bee!”

But Madge, ye hoyden, heard noe more,-- straightway upon her heele turnt shee, & shote ye cottage doore.

VIII

Soe Madge, ye hoyden, did her parte whiles that ye years did come and go; 't was somer allwais in her harte, tho' winter strewed her head with snowe.

She toilt and span thro' all those years nor bid repine that it ben soe, nor never shad noe teares.

IX

Whiles Robin lay within his bed, A divell came and whispered lowe,-- ”Giff you will doe my will,” he said, ”None more of sickness you shall knowe!”

Ye which gave joy to Robin's soul-- Saies Robin: ”Divell, be it soe, an that you make me whoale!”

X