/ whiche is w[on]d{erous}
For I thynge and you had not ben in louynge
Ye coude neuer haue made it so sentencyo{us}
I redde there all your passage daungerous
Wherfore I wene for the fayre ladyes sake
That ye dyd loue / ye dyde that boke so make

[P] Amour.

Forsothe madame / I dyde compyle that boke
As the holy goost / I call vnto wytnes
But ygnorauntly / who so lyst to loke
Many meruelous thynges in it / I do expresse
My lyue and loue / to enserche well doublesse
Many a one doth wryte / I knowe not what in dede
Yet the effecte dooth folowe / the trouthe for to spede

[P] Pucell.

I graunt you well / all that whiche you saye
But tell me who it is / that ye loue so sure
I promyse you that I wyll not bewraye
Her name truely to ony creature
Pyte it is / you sholde suche wo endure
I do perceyue / she is not ryght ferre hence
Whiche that ye loue / withouten neclygence

[P] Amour.

Surely madame / syth it pleaseth your hyghnesse
And your honour to speke so nobly
It is your grace / that hath the intresse
In my true herte / with loue so feruently
Ryght longe ago / your beaute sodanly
Entred my mynde / and hath not syth dekayde
With feruent loue / moost wofully arayde

[P] Pucell.

{A}nd is it I / that is cause of your loue
{y}f it so be I can not helpe your payne
It sholde be harde / to gete to your aboue
Me for to loue / I dyde not you constrayne
{y}e knowe what I am / I knowe not you certayne
I am as past your loue to specyfy
Why wyll ye loue where is no remedy

[P] Amour.

A madame you are cause of my languysshe
ye maye me helpe / yf that it to you please
To haue my purpose / my herte dooth not menysshe
Thoughe I was seke / ye knewe not my dysease
I am not hole / your mercy maye me ease
To proue what I am / the holy goost werke styll
My lyfe and deth / I yelde nowe to your wyll

[P] Pucell.

Fortune me thynke / is meruaylous fauorable
To you by getynge / of this ryall floure
Hauynge this swerde / and shelde so profytable
In mortall daungers / to be your socoure
But as touchynge your loue and fauoure
I can not graunt / neyther fyrst ne last
ye knowe what I am / ye knowe my loue is past

[P] Amour.

Madame the floure / the swerde and shelde also
Whiche fortune gate me / are not halfe so dere
As your persone the cause of my wo
Whose grace and beaute / shyneth so ryght clere
That in my herte your beaute doth appere
Nothynge is past / but that fortunes pleasure
May call it agayne / in the tym