twayne
As loue and hate / the trouth for to tell
And yf I sholde hate my lady certayne
Than worthy I were / to dye of deth cruell
Seynge all ladyes / that she doth excell
In beaute / grace / prudence and mekenes
What man on lyue / can more in one expres

yf she with me sholde take dyspleasure
Whiche loueth her by honoures desyre
What sholde she do / with suceh a creature
That hateth her / by inwarde fraude and yre
I yet a louer / do not so atyre
My fayth and hope / I put in her grace
Releace to graunt me / by good tyme and space

Thretened with sorowe / of may paynes grete
Thre yeres ago my ryght hande I dyde bynde
Fro my browes for fere / [the] dropes doune dyde sweet
God knoweth all it was nothynge my mynde
Vnto no persone / I durst my her to vntwynde
yet the trouthe knowynge / the good gretest P
Maye me release / of all my /p/p/p/ thre

Now ryght fayre lady / so sadde and demure
My mynde ye knowe / in euery maner thynge
I trust for trouthe / ye wyll not me dyscure
Sythes I haue shewed you without lesynge
At your request / the cause of my mournynge
Whiche abyde in sorowe / in my remembraunce
Without good conforte / saufe of esperaunce

Fayre sone sayd she / sythens I knowe your thought
your worde and dede / and here to be one
Dyspayre you not / for it auayleth nought
Ioye cometh after / whan the payne is gone
Conforte yourselfe / and muse not so alone
Doubt ye no thynge / but god wyll so agre
That at the last / ye shall your lady se

Be alwaye meke / let wysdome be your guyde
Aduenture for honoure / and put your selfe in preace
Clymbe not to fast / lest sodenly ye slyde
Lete god werke styll / he wyll your mynde encrece
Begynne no warre / be gladde to kepe the peace
Prepence no thynge / agaynst the honoure
Of ony lady / by fraudolent fauoure

Alas madame / vnto her than sayd I
Aboue .xx. woulues / dyde me touse and rent
Not longe agone / delynge moost shamefully
That by theyr tuggynge / my lyfe was nere spent
I dyde perceyue / somwhat of theyr entente
As the trouthe is knowen / vnto god aboue
My ladyes fader they dyde lytell loue

Seynge theyr falshode / and theyr subtylte
For fere of deth /where as I loued best
I dyde dysprayse / to knowe theyr cruelte
Somwhat to wysdome / accordynge to behest
Though that my body had but lytell rest
My herte was trewe vnto my ladyes blood
For all theyr dedes I thought no thynge but good

Some had wende the hous for to swepe
Nought was theyr besom / I holde