Than sayd I (well) this is an happy chaunce I trust now shortly / my lady for to se O fortune sayd I / whiche brought me on the daũce Fyrst to beholde her ryght excellent beaute And so by chaunce / hast hyder conueyde me Getynge me also / my floure my shelde and swerde I nought mystrust the / why sholde I be aferde O ryght fayre lady / as the bryght daye sterre Shyneth before the rysynge of the sonne Castynge her beames / all aboute aferre Exylynge grete wyndes / and the mystes donne So ryght fayre lady / where as thou doost wonne Thy beautefull bryghtnes / thy vertue and thy grace Dooth clere Illumyne / all thy boure and place The gentyll {herte is plonged in} dystresse Dooth walowe and tomble in somers nyght Replete with wo / and mortall heuynesse Tyll that aurora / with her beames bryght Aboute the fyrmament / castynge her pured lyght Ageynst the rysynge / of refulgent tytan Whan that declyneth / the fayre dame dyan Than dooth the louer / out of this bedde aryse With wofull mynde / beholdynge than the ayre Alas he sayth / what nedeth to deuyse Ony suche pastyme / here for to repayre Where is my conforte / where is my lady fayre Where is my Ioye / where is now all my boote Where is she nowe / that persed my herte rote This maye I saye / vnto my owne dere loue My goodly lady / fayrest and moost swete In all my bokes / fayre fortune doth moue For a place of grace / where that we sholde mete Also my bokes full pryuely you grete The effectes therof / dooth well dayly ensue By meruelous thynges / to proue them to be true The more my payne / the more my loue encreaseth The more my Ieopardy / the truer is my harte The more I suffre / the lesse the fyre releasheth The more I complayne the more is my smarte The more I se her / the sharper is the darte The more I wryte / the more my teeres dystyll The more I loue / the hotter is my wyll O moost fayre lady / yonge / good / and vertuous I knewe full well / neuer your countenaunce Shewed me ony token / to make me amerous But what for that / your prudent gouernaunce Hath enrached my herte / for to gyue attendaunce your excellent beaute / you coude no thynge lette To cause my herte vpon you to be sette My ryght fayre lady / yf at the chesse I drawe My selfe I knowe not / as a cheke frome a mate But god aboue the whiche sholde haue in awe By drede truely euery true estate He maye take vengeaunce / though he tary late He knoweth my mynde / he knoweth my remedy He maye reuenge me / he knoweth my Ieoperdy O thou fayre fortune / torne not fro me thy face Remembre my sorowe / for my goodly lady My tendre herte / she dooth full oft enbrace And as of that it is no wonder why For vpon her is all my desteny Submyttynge me / vnto her gracyous wyll Me for to saue or sodaynly to spyll