"Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd, 85 "When I thinke on my own countrìe, When I thinke on the heavye happe My friends have suffered there for mee. "Much is my woe," Lord Percy sayd, "And sore those wars my minde distresse; 90 Where many a widow lost her mate, And many a child was fatherlesse. "And now that I a banisht man Shold bring such evil happe with mee, To cause my faire and noble friends 95 To be suspect of treacherie, "This rives my heart with double woe; And lever had I dye this day, Than thinke a Douglas can be false, Or ever he will his guest betray." 100 "If you'll give me no trust, my lord, Nor unto mee no credence yield, Yet step one moment here aside, Ile showe you all your foes in field." "Lady, I never loved witchcraft, 105 Never dealt in privy wyle; But evermore held the high-waye Of truth and honour, free from guile." "If you'll not come yourselfe, my lorde, Yet send your chamberlaine with mee, 110 Let me but speak three words with him, And he shall come again to thee." James Swynard with that lady went, She showed him through the weme of her ring How many English lords there were 115 Waiting for his master and him. "And who walkes yonder, my good lady, So royallye on yonder greene?" "O yonder is the Lord Hunsden:[L119] Alas! he'll doe you drie and teene." 120 "And who beth yonder, thou gay ladye, That walkes so proudly him beside?" "That is Sir William Drury," shee sayd,[L123] "A keene captaine hee is and tryde." "How many miles is itt, madàme, 125 Betwixt yond English lords and mee?" "Marry, it is thrice fifty miles, To saile to them upon the sea. "I never was on English ground, Ne never sawe it with mine eye, 130 But as my book it sheweth mee, And through my ring I may descrye. "My mother shee was a witch ladye, And of her skille she learned mee; She wold let me see out of Lough-leven 135 What they did in London citìe." "But who is yond, thou lady faire, That looketh with sic an austerne face?" "Yonder is Sir John Foster," quoth shee,[L139] "Alas! he'll do ye sore disgrace." 140 He pulled his hatt downe over his browe; He wept, in his heart he was full of woe; And he is gone to his noble lord, Those sorrowful tidings him to show.