l expresse
The greuous harmes that I fele in my herte
Haue neuer yet the lesse mercy of my smerte

This is to sayne O cler heuenes light
That next the sonne sercled han your spere
Sit[=h] ye me hurte wit[=h] your dredful myght
By influence of your beames clere
And that I by your seruyse now so dere
As ye me brought in to this maladye
Be ye gracyous and shape ye remedye

For in you hoolly liet[=h] help of al this caas
And knowe best my sorow and al my peyne
For drede of det[=h], how I ne dar allas
To aren mercy ones, ne me compleyne
Now wit[=h] your fyre her hert so constrayne
Wit[=h] oute more, or I deye atte leste
That she may witte what is my request

How I no thyng in al this world desire
But for to serur fully to myn ende
That goodly freshe so womanly of chere
Wit[=h]out chaunge whyle I haue lyf & mynde
And that ye wold suche grace sende
Of my seruyse that she not disdeyne
Sithen her to serue I may not me restreyne

And sit[=h] that hope me hat[=h] yeue hardynes
To loue her best and neuer to repente
Whylis that I lyue wit[=h] al my besynes
To drede & serue, thaug[=h] daunger neuer assente
And here vpon ye knowe myn entente
How I haue vowed fully in myn mynde
To ben her man, thaug[=h] I no mercy fynde

For in my hert emprynted is so sore
Her shap her forme & al her semelynes
Her porte her chere, her godenes more & more
Her womanhed and eke her gentiles
Her trout[=h], her fait[=h] and her kyndnes
Wit[=h] alle vertues eche set in her degre
Ther is no lack, sauyng only of pyte

Her sad demenyng of wyl not variable
Of loke benygne, and rote of al plesance
And exemplayre to alle that wyl be stable
Discrete prudent of wisedom suffisance
Mirrour of witte ground of gouernance
A world of beaute compassed in her face
Whos persant loke doth thurg[=h] my hert race

And ouer this wonder secrete and true
A wel of fredome and right bounteous
And euer encrecyng in vertu new & newe
Of speche goodly, and wonder gracyous
Deuoyd of pryde, to poure not despytous
And yf that I shortly shal not feyne
Saue vpon mercy I no thing compleyne

What wonder thenne, thoug[=h] I be wit[=h] drede
Inly supprised for to axen grace
Of her that is quene of womanhede
For wel I wote in so hig[=h] a place
Hit wil not be, therfore I ouer pace
And take lowly what wo I endure
Til she of pyte me take to her cure

But one auowe plainly here I make
That whethir so be, she do me lyue or deye
I wil not gruoche, but humbly hit take