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This young man with a noble peer,

Who lik't his service well, Went from his native Leicestershire, In Sussex for to dwell :

Where living nigh

The town of Rye, This pretty maid did hear

Of his good parents,

Who by deserts,
Were pride of Leycestershire.

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For coming once into that town,

It was at first his chance, To meet with her whose brave renown All Sussex did advance :

And she likewise

In his fair eyes,
When once she came him near,

Did plainly see

That none but he
Was pride of Leycestershire.

Then little Cupid, God of Love,

Began to play his part,
And on the sudden from above,

He shot his golden dart,

Which did constrain

These lovers twain
To prize each other dear,

Sweet Margery

Lov'd Anthony,
The pride of Leycestershire.

Thus with concordant sympathy

These lovers were combin'd, One lov'd the other heartily, Yet neither told their mind :

She long'd to speak

Her mind to break,
Unto her lover dear,

She durst not tell,

Though she lov'd well,
The pride of Leyçestershire.

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Within short time it came to pass To sea the

young man went, And left this young and pretty lass In woe and discontent:

Who wept full sore

And griev'd therefore,
When truly she did hear,

That her sweet-heart

From her must part,
The pride of Leycestershire.


It was his hap that time to go

To travel with his lord, Which to his heart did breed much woe, Yet could he not afford

A remedy

To 's misery,
But needs he must leave here

His Madge behind,

Who griev'd in mind
For the pride of Leycestershire.

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She being then bereaved clean

Of hope, yet did invent
By her rare policy a mean
To work her heart's content:

In garments strange

She straight did change
Herself, rejecting fear,

To go with him

Whom she did deem
The pride of Leycestershire.


And in the habit of a page

She did entreat his lord, That being a boy of tender age

He would this grace afford,

That he might go

Service to shew
To him both far and near,

Who little thought,

What love she ought,
To the pride of Leycestershire.

This lord did take her, as she seem'd

To be a pretty lad,
And for his page he her esteem'd,
Which made her heart full glad :

To sea went she,

And so did he,
Whom she esteem'd so dear,

Who for her sake,

Great moan did make, And shed full many a tear.

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Thus he, poor lad, lay with his love,

Full many a tedious night,
Yet neither of them both did prove
A lover's true delight:

She heard him weep,

When he should sleep, And shed forth many a tear

For Margery,

Who then lay by
The pride of Leycestershire.

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Long time these lovers travellid,

And were bed-fellows still,
Yet she did keep her maiden-head
Untill she had her will.

She heard his moan,

Yet still unknown,
She kept herself for fear,

Yet at the last

She cleaved full fast
To the pride of Leycestershire.


For having travelled six weeks,

Unknown unto her lover, With rosy blushes in her cheeks, Her mind she did discover :

See here, quoth she,

One, that for thee
Hath left her parents dear :

Poor Margery,

The maid of Rye,
I am, behold me here.

When Anthony did hear this word,

His heart with joy did leap,, He went unto his noble lord,

To whom he did report,

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