74 ‘Sing on thy song to thy gelding, And thou doest not sing to mee; And as I am a true ladie I will euer be true vnto thee.’ 75 He sayd, Woe be to thee, gelding, And to the mare _tha_t foled thee! For thou hast strucken the Lo_rd_ of Learne A litle aboue mine eye. 76 First night I was borne, a lord I was, An earle after my father doth dye; My father is the good Lo_rd_ of Learne, And child he hath noe other but mee; My father sent me over [the sea] w_i_th the false steward, And thus _tha_t he hath beguiled mee. 77 ‘Woe be to the steward, lady,’ he sayd, ‘Woe be to him verrily! He hath beene about this twelve months day For to deceiue both thee and mee. 78 ‘If you doe not my councell keepe, _Tha_t I haue told you w_i_th good intent, And if you doe it not well keepe, Ffarwell! my life is at an ende.’ 79 ‘I wilbe true to thee, Lo_rd_ of Learne, Or else Christ be not soe vnto me; And as I am a trew ladye, I’le neuer marry none but thee.’ 80 Shee sent in for her father, the Duke, In all the speed _tha_t ere might bee; ‘Put of my wedding, father,’ shee said, ‘For the loue of God, this monthës three. 81 ‘Sicke I am,’ the ladye said, ‘O sicke, and verry like to die! Put of my wedding, father Duke, Ffor the loue of God, this monthës three.’ 82 The Duke of France put of this wedding Of the steward and the lady monthës three, For the ladie sicke shee was, Sicke, sicke, and like to die. 83 Shee wrote a letter w_i_th her owne hand, In all the speede _tha_t euer might bee; Shee sent [it] over into Scottland, _Tha_t is soe ffarr beyond the sea. 84 When the messenger came beffore the old Lo_rd_ of Learne, He kneeled low downe on his knee, And he deliuered the letter vnto him, In all the speed _tha_t euer might bee. 85 [The] first looke he looked the letter vpon, Lo! he wept full bitterly; The second looke he looked it vpon, Said, False steward, woe be to thee! 86 When the Ladye of Learne these tydings heard, O Lo_rd_! shee wept soe biterlye: ‘I told you of this, now good my lord, When I sent my child into that wild country.’ 87 ‘Peace, Lady of Learne,’ the lord did say, ‘For Christ his loue I doe pray thee; And as I am a christian man, Wroken vpon him _tha_t I wilbe.’ 88 He wrote a letter w_i_th his owne hand, In all the speede _tha_t ere might bee; He sent it into the lords in Scottland, _Tha_t were borne of a great degree. 89 He sent for lords, he sent for k_nigh_ts, _Th_e best that were in the countrye, To go w_i_th him into the land of France, To seeke his sonne in _tha_t strange country.