I am not hole / your mercy maye me ease

To proue what I am / the holy goost werke styll

My lyfe and deth / I yelde nowe to your wyll

¶ Pucell.

Fortune me thynke / is meruaylous fauorable

To you by getynge / of this ryall floure

Hauynge this swerde / and shelde so profytable

In mortall daungers / to be your socoure

But as touchynge your loue and fauoure

I can not graunt / neyther fyrst ne last

ye knowe what I am / ye knowe my loue is past

¶ Amour.

Madame the floure / the swerde and shelde also

Whiche fortune gate me / are not halfe so dere

As your persone the cause of my wo

Whose grace and beaute / shyneth so ryght clere

That in my herte your beaute doth appere

Nothynge is past / but that fortunes pleasure

May call it agayne / in the tyme future

||

 Prev. P 46/55 next