"Thy sheep," quoth she, "cannot be lean
That have a jolly shepherd swain
The which can pipe so well."
"Yea, but," saith he, "their shepherd may,
If piping thus he pine away
In love of Dowsabell."

"Of love, fond boy, take then no keep," {95b}
Quoth she; "Look well unto thy sheep,
Lest they should hap to stray."
Quoth he, "So had I done full well,
Had I not seen fair Dowsabell
Come forth to gather may."

With that she 'gan to vail her head,
Her cheeks were like the roses red,
But not a word she said.
With that the shepherd 'gan to frown,
He threw his pretty pipes adown,
And on the ground him laid.

Saith she, "I may not stay till night
And leave my summer-hall undight,
And all for love of thee."
"My cote," saith he, "nor yet my fold
Shall neither sheep nor shepherd hold,
Except thou favour me."

Saith she, "Yet liever were I dead
Than I should [yield me to be wed],