Whan she lyst to auale,
And with her fyngers smale,
And handes soft as sylke,
Whyter than the[444] mylke, 1120
That are so quyckely vayned,
Wherwyth my hand she strayned,
Lorde, how I was payned!
Vnneth I me refrayned,
How she me had reclaymed,
And me to her retayned,