And eke my sone Cupyde that is so blynde He shal be helpyng fully to performe Your hool desire, that nothing be behynde Ne shal be lefte, so we shal reforme This pietous cōpleynt, [that] maketħ the to morne That she for whom thau sorowest most in hert Shal thurgħ hur mercy relece al thy smert Whan she scetħ tyme, thurgħ our purueaunce Be not to hasty, but suffre althing wele For in abydyng, thurgħ lowly obeyssaunce Lyetħ ful redres, of al that ye now fele And she shal be as trewe as ony stele To you allone, by our myght and grace Yf ye list mekely abyde a lityl space But vnderstande ye that al her cherising Shal be grounded vpon honeste That no wight shal by ony compacyng Demen amys of hur in no degre For neyther mercy, coutħ ner pyte She shal not haue ne take of the non hede Further than longetħ vnto her womanhede Be not astonyed of no wilfulnes Ne not despeyred of this dissolucion Late reson bridle lust by buxumnes Witħout gruochyng or rebellyon For ioye shal folowe al this passion For who can suffre torment and endure Ne may not faylle, but folowe shal his cure For to fore alle she shal the louen best So shal I her witħoute offencion By Influence enspire in her brest In honest wyse witħ ful entencion For tenclyne by clene affection Her hert fully on the to haue routhe Be cause I knowe that thou menest trouthe Go now to hir where as she stant a syde Witħ humble chere, and put the in her grace And al beforn lete hope be thy guyde And thaugħ that drede wold witħ the pace Hit sittetħ wel, but loke that thou arace Out of thyn hert wanhop and despeire To her presence er thou haue repeir And mercy first shal thy way make And honest menyng afore do thy message To make pyte in her herte awake And secretnes to further thy viage Witħ humble porte to her that is so sage Shal menes be, and I my self also Shal the fortune, or thy tale be do Go fortħ anon, and be right good of chere For specheles nothing mayst thou spede Be good of trust & be no thing in were Sitħ I my self shal helpen in this nede For atte lest of her goodly hede She shal to the her audience enclyne And lowe the to her til thou thy tale fyne For wel thou wost yf I shal not feyne Witħoute speche thou maist no mercy haue For who that wil of his pryue peyne Fully be cured his lyf to helpe and saue He must mekely out of his hert graue Discure his wound and shewe hit his leche Or ellis deye for defaute of speche For he that is in myschief reklees To seche help I holde hym a wrecche And she ne may thyn hert bryng in pees But yf thy compleynt to hir hert strecche Woldest thou be cured & wilt no salue fecche Hit wil not be, for no wight may atteyne To come to blys, yf he list lyue in peyne Therfore attones go fortħ in humble wyse To fore thy lady and lowly knele a doun And in al trouthe thy wordes so deuyse That she on the haue compassion For she that is of so hye renoun In al vertues as quene and souerayn Of womanhed shal rue on thy payn