I durst not speke vnto her of my loue Yet vnder coloure I dyuers bokes dyde make Full pryuely / to come to my aboue Thus many nyghtes / I watched for her sake To her and to hers / my trouthe well to take Without ony spotte / of ony maner yll God knoweth all myn herte / my mynde & my wyll The hygh dame nature / by her grete myght & power Man / beest / and foule / in euery degre Fro whens they came at euery maner houre Dooth trye the trouthe / without duplycyte For euery thynge must shewe the properte Gentyll vngentyll / dame nature so well tryet That all persones it openly espyeth The lorde and knyght / delyteth for to here Cronycles and storyes / of noble chyualry The gentyll man gentylnes / for his passe tyme dere The man of lawe / to here lawe truely The yeman delyteth to talke of yomanry The ploman his londe for to ere and sowe Thus nature werketh / in hye degre and lowe For yf there were one of the gentyll blode Conuayde to yomanry for nourysshement Dyscrecyon comen he sholde chaunge his mode Though he knewe not / his parentes verament Yet nature wolde werke / so by entendyment That he sholde folowe / the condycyons doubtles Of his true blode / by outwarde gentylnes In all this worlde / ben but thynges 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