Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn;
And but my going nothing can redeem it.
O, fly to Scotland
Till that the nobles and the armed commons
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
O, fly to Scotland
Till that the nobles and the armed commons
Have of their puissance made a little taste.
Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind
As with the tide swell'd up unto his height,
That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop,
But many thousand reasons hold me back.
I will resolve for Scotland. There am I,
Till time and vantage crave my company
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