Bvt stay conceit where he best likt to loue,
Yea better he if better best might bee:
The Rider thought the best of better proue,
Till fortune sign'd his fortune for to see.
Now wearie he betooke himselfe to rest,
Deuised where he might good harbour finde:

Emaricdulf
(quoth he) I am her guest,
And thither went: she greeted him most kinde:
Welcome sayd she, three welcomes more she gaue:
His hand she tooke, and talking with him then,
What wine or beere to drinke wilt please you haue,
Sixe welcomes more, and so she made them ten.
He dranke his fill, and fed to his desire,
Refresht himselfe, and then did home retire.