Classic Poem

A Robyn
Joly Robyn,
Tell me how thy leman doeth
And thou shall knowe of myn.

My lady is unkynd, perde!
Alack, whi is she so?
She loveth an othre better then me,
And yet she will say no.

RESPONCE

I fynde no suche doublenes,
I fynde women true.
My lady loveth me dowtles
And will chaunge for no newe.

LE PLAINTIF

Thou art happy while that doeth last,
But I say as I fynde,
That womens love is but a blast
And torneth like the wynde.

RESPONCE

Yf that be trew yett as thov sayst
That women turn their hart,
Then spek better of them thov mayst
In hope to han thy partt.

LE PLAINTIF

Suche folkes shall take no harme by love
That can abide their torn,
But I, alas, can no way prove
In love but lake and morn.

RESPONCE

But if thou will avoyde thy harme
Lerne this lessen of me,
At othre fieres thy self to warme
And let theim warme with the.