YOUNG MAN. I think six o'clock it is not much past, But yet to the priest we will make haste, That according to custom we may be both coupled, And with a strong knot for ever bound fast: Yet, ere I depart, some song I will sing, To the intent to declare my joy without fear, And in the meantime you may, my sweeting, Rest yourself in this little chair. THE SONG. _Spite of his spite, which that in vain Doth seek to force my fantasy, I am professed for loss or gain, To be thine own assuredly; Wherefore let my father spite[334] and spurn, My fantasy will never turn! Although my father of busy wit Doth babble still, I care not tho; I have no fear, nor yet will flit, As doth the water to and fro; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn! For I am set and will not swerve, Whom spiteful speech removeth nought; And since that I thy grace deserve, I count it is not dearly bought; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn! Who is afraid, let you him fly, For I shall well abide the brunt; Maugre to his lips that listeth to lie, Of busy brains as is the wont; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn! Who listeth thereat to laugh or lour,[335] I am not he that ought doth rech;[336] There is no pain that hath the power Out of my breast your love to fetch; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn! For whereas he moved me to the school, And only to follow my book and learning: He could never make me such a fool, With all his soft words and fair speaking; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn! This minion here, this mincing[337] trull,[338] Doth please me more a thousandfold, Than all the earth that is so full Of precious stones, silver and gold; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn! Whatsoever I did it was for her sake, It was for her love and only pleasure; I count it no labour such labour to take, In getting to me so high a treasure; Wherefore, let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn! This day I intended for to be merry, Although my hard father be far hence, I know no cause for to be heavy, For all this cost and great expense; Wherefore let my father spite and spurn, My fantasy will never turn!_ YOUNG MAN. How like ye this song, my own sweet rose? Is it well made for our purpose? YOUNG WOMAN. I never heard in all my life a better, More pleasant, more meet for the matter; Now let us go then, the morning is nigh gone, We cannot any longer here remain: Farewell, good masters every one, Till from the church we come again. [_Here they go out, and in cometh the Priest alone_.