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OID KOBIN OP POETINGALE. 35
They scarce were in their wed-bed laid,
And scarce was hee asleepe, w
But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes, To the steward, and gan to weepe.
" Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles ?
Or be you not within ? Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles, ™
Arise and let me inn."
"01 am waking, sweete," he said, " Sweete ladye, what is your will ? "
" I have onbethought me of a wile
How my wed lord weel spill. 20
" Twenty-four good knights," shee sayes,
" That dwell about this towne, Even twenty-four of my next cozens
Will helpe to dinge him downe."
All that beheard his litle footepage, 25
As he watered his masters steed ;
And for his masters sad perille His verry heart did bleed.
He mourned, sighed and wept full sore ;
I sweare by the holy roode, 30