"Sweet youth," quoth hee, "if it be so, Beare me a letter to the English merchants there, 110 And gold on thee I will bestow: My daughter's welfare I do feare." Her mother takes her by the hand; "Faire youth," qd she, "if there thou dost my daughter see, Let me thereof soone understand, 115 And there is twenty crownes for thee." Thus, through the daughter's strange disguise, The mother knew not when shee spake unto her child; And after her master straightway shee hies, Taking her leave with countenance milde. 120 Thus to the sea faire Maudlin is gone With her gentle master; God send them a merry wind; Where wee a while must let them alone, Till you the second part doe find. THE SECOND PART. "Welcome, sweete Maudlin, from the sea, 125 Where bitter stormes and tempests doe arise: The plesant bankes of Italy Wee may behold with mortal eyes." "Thankes, gentle master," then quoth shee; "A faithfull friend in sorrow hast thou beene; 130 If fortune once doth smile on mee, My thankfull heart shall well bee seene. "Blest be the land that feedes my love! Blest be the place where as his person doth abide! No triall will I sticke to prove, 135 Whereby my true love may be tride. "Nowe will I walke with joyful heart, To viewe the towne where as my darlinge doth remaine, And seeke him out in every part, Untill I doe his sight attaine." 140 "And I," quoth he, "will not forsake Sweete Maudlin in her sorrow up and downe: In wealth and woe thy part Ile take, And bring thee safe to Padua towne." And after many wearie steps 145 In Padua they safely doe arrive at last: For very joy her heart it leapes; She thinkes not of her sorrowes past. Condemned to dye hee was, alas! Except he would from his religion turne; 150 But rather then hee would to masse, In fiery flames he vow'd to burne. Now doth Maudlin weepe and waile: Her joy is chang'd to weeping, sorrow, griefe and care; But nothing could her plaints prevaile, 155 For death alone must be his share. Shee walkes under the prison walls, Where her true love doth lye and languish in distresse; Most wofully for foode he calls, When hunger did his heart oppresse. 160 He sighs and sobs and makes great moane: "Farewell," hee said, "sweete England, now for evermore, And all my friends that have me knowne In Bristow towne with wealth and store.