And whan the goddes this lesson had told Aboute me so I gan behold Rigħt so a stoned stode in a traunce To se the maner and contenance And al the chere of this woful man That was of hue dedely pale and wan Witħ drede supprised in his owne thought Makyng chere as thaugħ he rought nought Of lyf ne detħ ne what so hym betyde So moche fere he had on euery side To put hym fortħ to tel his peyne Vnto his lady, other to compleyne What woo he felt torment or disese What dedely sorow his hert dide sese For coutħ of whiche his wo as I endite My penne I fele quaken as I wryte Of hym I had so grete compassion For to reherce his weymentacion That vnnethe, thougħ I witħ my self stryue I want connyng his peynes to discryue Allas to whom shal I for help calle Not to the muses for cause they ben alle Help of right in Ioye and not in woo And in matiers that they delite also Wherfore they nyl as now directe my style Nor me enspiren Alas the hard whyle I can no further but to the siphon And to her suster to calle help vpon That be goddesses of torment and peyne Nowe lete your teris in to myn Inke reyne Witħ woful wordes my paper for to blotte This woful mater not to peynt, but spotte To tel the maner of this dredeful man Vpon his complaynt whan he first began To tel his lady whan he gan declare His hid sorowis, and his euel fare That at his herte constreyned so sore Theffect of whiche was this witħoute more Pryncesse of yougtħ & flour of gentilesse Ensample of vertu ground of curtesye Of beaute rote quene and eke maistres To alle women how they shal hem gye And sotħfast mirrour texemplifye The right way of port and of womanhede What I shal saye, of mercy take ye hede Besechyng first vnto your hye nobles Witħ quakyng hert of my Inward drede Of grace and pyte & not of right wysnes Of verrey coutħe to help in this nede This is to say O wel of goodlyhede That I ne rekke thaugħ ye do me deye So ye list first to heven what I seye The dredeful stroke the gret force and might Of god cupide that noman may rebelle So inwardly thurgħ out myn hert right Y perced hatħ that I ne may councele Myn hid wound ne I ne may apele Vnto no gretter, this mighty god so faste You to serue hatħ me bound vnto my laste That hert and aƚƚ witħ out stryf ar yolde For lyf or detħ to your seruyse allone Right as the goddesse myghty venus wolde To for her mekely whan I made my mone She me constrayned witħoute chaunge anone To your seruyse and neuer for to fayne Wherso euer ye list to do me ease or payne So that I can no thing but mercy crye Of you my lady, and chaunge for no newe That ye list godely to fore er that I dye Of verray couthe vpon my paynes rue For by my trouthe, and ye my peynes knewe What is the cause of myne aduersite On myn disese ye wolde haue pyte