Glorious is my love, with tryumphs in her face,
Then to to bould were I to venter:
Who loves deserves to live in a princes grace,
30Why stand you then affraid to enter?
Lights are all out
Then make noe doubt
A lover bouldly maye take chusinge.
Bewtie is a baite
35For a princely mate.
Fy, why stand you then a musinge?