ight so in my face
Be gan to smyte, so persing euer in one
On euery part wher that I gan gone
That I ne might no thing as I wolde
Aboute me considere and beholde
The wonder estres for brightnes of the sonne
Til atte last certayn skyes donne
Wit[=h] wynde chaced han her cours y went
To fore the stremes of titan and y blent
So that I mighte wit[=h] in and wit[=h] oute
Wherso I wolde beholden me aboute
For to reporte the fac[=o]n and manere
Of a[=ll] this place that was circuler
In compas wyse, round by entayle wrought
And whan I had longe gone and sought
I found a wiket and entred in as fast
In to the temple and myn eyen cast
On euery syde now lowe eft alofte
And right anon as I gan walken softe
Yf I the sot[=h] a right reporte shal
I sawe depeynted vpon a wal

From este to weste many a fair ymage
Of sondry louers lyke as they were of age
Y sette in ordre after they were trewe
Wit[=h] liuely colours wonder fresh of hue
And as me thought I sawe som sitte & som st[=a]de
And so[=m]e knelyng wit[=h] billes in their hande
And so[=m]e wit[=h] compleynt woful & pietous
Wit[=h] doleful chere to putten to venus
So as she sat fleetyng in the see
Vpon her woo forto haue pitee
And first of alle I saug[=h] there of cartage
Dido the quene so goodly of visage
That gan compleyne hir auenture and cas
How she deceyued was of Eneas
For al his hestes and his othes sworn
And said alas that euer she was born
Whan she sawe that ded she must be
And next I sawe the compleynt of Medee
How that she falsed was of Iason
And nyg[=h] by venus sawe I sitte atheon
And al the maner how the boor hym sloug[=h]
For whom she wepte and had pyne ynoug[=h]
Ther saw I also how that penolope

For she so longe her lord ne mighte see
Was of colour bothe pale and grene
And after next was the fresh quene
I mene alcest the noble trewe wyf
And for admete hou she lost her lif
And for her trout[=h] yf I shal not lye
How she was torned in to a daysye
Ther was Grisildes Innocence
And al her mekenes and pacience
There was eke Isode & many other moo
And al the torment and the cruel woo
That she had for tristram al her lyue
And how that Tisbe her hert dyde ryue
Wit[=h] thilk swerd of sir Piramus
And al the maner hou that Theseus
The mynotaure slow amyd the hous
That was forwrynked by crafte of dedalus
Whan he was in pryson shit in Crete
And how that philles felte of loues hete
The grete fyre of demephon allas
And for his falshed and for his trespas