"Spryte of mie Graie," the minstrelle Maisonne cries, "Some cherisaunie 'tys to mie sadde harte That thou, whose fetive poesie I pryze, Wythe Pyndarre kynge of mynstrells lethlen arte. Else nowe thie wytte to dernie roin han come, For havynge protoslene grete Rowley's hie renome.
"Yette, giff thou sojourned in this earthly vale, Johnson atte thee had broched no neder stynge; Hee, cravent, the ystorven dothe assyle, Butte atte the quyck ne dares hys venome flynge. Quyck or ystorven, giff I kenne aryghte, Ne Johnson, ne Deane Mylle, scalle e'er agrose thie spryte."
