That for so moche your entent is sette
Only in vertu y bridled vnder drede
Ye must of right nedis face the bet
Of your request, and the better spede
But as for me I may of womanhede
No further graunte to you in myn entente
Than as my lady venus wil assente
For she wel knoweth I am not at my large
To doon right nought but by her ordynance
So am I drownd vnder her dredeful charge
Her lyste tobbeye withoute variaunce
But for my parte so hit be pleasaunce
Vnto the goddesse for troutħ in your empryse
I you accepte fully to my seruyse
For she my herte hath in subiection
Whiche hoolly is youres & neuer shal repente
In thought ner dede in myn election
Witnes on venus that knoweth myn entent
Fully tobeye hir dome and Iugement
So as hir liste disposen and ordeyne
Right as she knoweth the troutħ of vs tweyne
For vnto the tyme that venus list prouyde
To shape away for our hertis ease
Bothe ye and I mekely must abyde
To take at gree, and not of our disease
To grucche agayn til that she list tappease
Our hid woo so Iuly that constreynetħ
From day to day and our hertis peyneth
For in abidyng of woo and al affraye
Who so can suffre is founden remedye
And for the beste ful ofte is made delaye
Er men be heled of their maladye
Wherfore as venus list this mater to gye
Leet vs agreen, and take al for the best
Til her liste, sette bothe our hertes in rest
For she is that byndetħ and can constreyn
Hertes in one, this fortunate planete
And can relece louers of her peyn
To turne fully her bitter in to swete
Now blisful goddes doun fro thy sterry sete
Vs to fortune cast your stremes shene
Lyke as ye knowe, that we troutħ mene
And ther witħ al as I myn eyen caste
For to perceyue the maner of these tweyne
To fore the goddesse mekely as they paste
Me thought I saw witħ a goldyn cheyne
Venus, anon enbrace and constreyne
Her bothe hertes in one, for to perseuere
Whilis that they lyue, and neuer to disseuere
Seyng right thus with a benygne chere
Sith it is so, ye be vnder my myght
My wil is thus, that ye my doughter dere
Ful accepte this man as it is right
Vnto your grace anon here in my sight
That euer hath ben so lowly you to serue
Hit is good shil your thank that he deserue
Your honour sauf and eke your womanhede
Hym to cherisshe, hit sittetħ you right wele
Sith he is bounde vnder hope and drede
Amyd my cheyne that forged is of stele
Ye must of mercy shape that he fele
In yow som grace of his long seruyse
And that in hast lik as I shal deuyse
This is to sayn that ye taken hede
Hou he to you most faitħful is and true
Ofal your seruauntes, & nothing for his mede
Of you ne asketh, but ye on hym rue
For he vowed hath to change for no newe
For lyf ne detħ, for ioye ne for peyne
Ay to be youris, so as ye list ordeyne