GENTLE herdsman, tell to me, | |
| Of curtesy I thee pray, | |
| Unto the towne of Walsingham | |
| Which is the right and ready way. | |
| |
| “Unto the towne of Walsingham | 5 |
| The way is hard for to be gon; | |
| And verry crooked are those pathes | |
| For you to find out all alone.” | |
| |
| Weere the miles doubled thrise, | |
| And the way never soe ill, | 10 |
| Itt were not enough for mine offence, | |
| Itt is soe grievous and soe ill. | |
| |
| “Thy yeeares are young, thy face is faire, | |
| Thy witts are weake, thy thoughts are greene; | |
| Time hath not given thee leave, as yett, | 15 |
| For to commit so great a sinne.” | |
| |
| Yes, herdsman, yes, soe woldest thou say, | |
| If thou knewest soe much as I; | |
| My witts, and thoughts, and all the rest, | |
| Have well deserved for to dye. | 20 |
| |
| I am not what I seeme to bee, | |
| My clothes and sexe doe differ farr: | |
| I am a woman, woe is me! | |
| Born to greeffe and irksome care. | |
| |
| For my beloved, and well-beloved, | 25 |
| My wayward cruelty could kill: | |
| And though my teares will nought avail, | |
| Most dearely I bewail him still. | |
| |
| He was the flower of noble wights, | |
| None ever more sincere colde bee; | 30 |
| Of comely mien and shape hee was, | |
| And tenderlye hee loved mee. | |
| |
| When thus I saw he loved me well, | |
| I grewe so proud his paine to see, | |
| That I, who did not know myselfe, | 35 |
| Thought scorne of such a youth as hee. | |
| |
| And grew soe coy and nice to please, | |
| As women’s lookes are often soe, | |
| He might not kisse, nor hand forsooth, | |
| Unlesse I willed him soe to doe. | 40 |
| |
| Thus being wearyed with delayes | |
| To see I pittyed not his greeffe, | |
| He gott him to a seerett place, | |
| And there he dyed without releeffe. | |
| |
| And for his sake these weeds I weare, | 45 |
| And sacrifice my tender age; | |
| And every day Ile begg my bread, | |
| To undergoe this pilgrimage. | |
| |
| Thus every day I fast and pray, | |
| And ever will doe till I dye; | 50 |
| And gett me to some secrett place, | |
| For soe did hee, and soe will I. | |
| |
| Now, gentle herdsman, aske no more, | |
| But keepe my secretts I thee pray: | |
| Unto the towne of Walsingham | 55 |
| Show me the right and readye way. | |
| |
| “Now goe thy wayes, and God before! | |
| For he must ever guide thee still: | |
| Turne downe that dale, the right hand path, | |
| And soe, faire pilgrim, fare thee well!” | 60 |
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