Wyll lyght on them to theyr owne myschefe

¶ Amour.

Surely I thynke / I suffred well the phyppe

The nette also dydde teche me on the waye

But me to bere I trowe they lost a lyppe

For the lyfte hande extendyd my Iournaye

And not to call me for my sporte and playe

Wherfore by foly yf that they do synne

The holy goost maye well the batayle wynne

||

¶ Pucell.

Yf fortune wolde / for the payne ye haue taken

I wolde graũt you loue / but it may nothỹge auayle

uayle

My loue is past / it can not be forsaken

Therfore I praye you leue your trauayle

Full lothe I were / your deth to bewayle

There is no nette / nor no tempted snare

But ye them knowe / wherfore ye maye beware

¶ Amour.

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