From este to weste many a fair ymage Of sondry louers lyke as they were of age Y sette in ordre after they were trewe Witħ liuely colours wonder fresh of hue And as me thought I sawe som sitte & som stāde And som̄e knelyng witħ billes in their hande And som̄e witħ compleynt woful & pietous Witħ doleful chere to putten to venus So as she sat fleetyng in the see Vpon her woo forto haue pitee And first of alle I saugħ there of cartage Dido the quene so goodly of visage That gan compleyne hir auenture and cas How she deceyued was of Eneas For al his hestes and his othes sworn And said alas that euer she was born Whan she sawe that ded she must be And next I sawe the compleynt of Medee How that she falsed was of Iason And nygħ by venus sawe I sitte atheon And al the maner how the boor hym slougħ For whom she wepte and had pyne ynougħ Ther saw I also how that penolope For she so longe her lord ne mighte see Was of colour bothe pale and grene And after next was the fresh quene I mene alcest the noble trewe wyf And for admete hou she lost her lif And for her troutħ yf I shal not lye How she was torned in to a daysye Ther was Grisildes Innocence And al her mekenes and pacience There was eke Isode & many other moo And al the torment and the cruel woo That she had for tristram al her lyue And how that Tisbe her hert dyde ryue Witħ thilk swerd of sir Piramus And al the maner hou that Theseus The mynotaure slow amyd the hous That was forwrynked by crafte of dedalus Whan he was in pryson shit in Crete And how that philles felte of loues hete The grete fyre of demephon allas And for his falshed and for his trespas Vpon the walles depeynt men might see How she henge vpon a fylberd tree And many a story moo than I rekene can Were in the temple, and how that paris wan The fayr Eleyne a lusty fresh quene And hou Achilles was for Policene Y slayn vnwarly witħyn Troye toun Al this sawe I walkyng vp and doun Ther sawe I wreton eke the hole tale How Philomene in to a nyghtyngale Y torned was, and proigne vnto a swalowe And how the sabyns in their maner halowe The feste of lucresse yet in Rome toun Ther saw I also the sorow of Palamon That he in prison felte and al the smert And how that he thurgħ vnto his hert Was hurt vnwarly by castyng of an eye On fair fresh the lusty yong Emelye And al the stryf bytwene hym & his brother And how that one faugħt witħ that other Witħyn the groue, til they by Theseus Accorded were as Chaucer telletħ vs And furthermore as I gan beholde I sawe hou phebus witħ an arowe of golde Y wounded was thurgħ out his syde