Or lett mee, in your royal tent,

Prepare your bed at nighte,

And with fweete baths refresh your grace,

At your returne from fighte.

So I your prefence may enjoye
No toil I will refufe ;

But wanting you, my life is death;

Nay, death Ild rather chufe!

100

"Content thy felf, my dearest love;

105

Thy reft at home fhall bee

In Englandes fweet and pleasant isle ;

For travell fits not thee.

Faire ladies brooke not bloodye warres ; ·

Soft peace their fexe delightes;

Not rugged campes, but courtlye bowers;
Gay feaftes, not cruell fightes.'

n

My Rofe fhall fafely here abide,

With muficke paffe the daye;

Whilft I, amonge the piercing pikes,

115

My foes feeke far awaye.

My Rofe fhall fhine in pearle, and goide,
Whilft Ime in armour dighte;

Gay galliards here my love fhall dance,

Whilst I my foes goe fighte.

And you, fir Thomas, whom I truste

To bee my loves defence;

Be carefull of my gallant Rofe

When I am parted hence."

And therewithall he fetcht a figh,

As though his heart would breake:

And Rofamonde, for very griefe,

Not one plaine word could fpeake.

And at their parting well they mighte
If heart be grieved fore :
After that daye faire Rosamonde
The king did fee no more.

120

125

130

For when his grace had past the feas,

And into France was gone;
With envious heart, queene Ellinor,

135

To Woodstocke came anone.

And