When, losing one, two liberties ye gaine,
And make him bond that bondage earst did fly.
Sweet be the bands, the which true Love doth tye
Without constraynt, or dread of any ill:
The gentle birde feeles no captivity
Within her cage; but sings, and feeds her fill.
There Pride dare not approach, nor Discord spill
The league twixt them, that loyal Love hath bound:
But simple Truth, and mutual Good-will,
Seeks, with sweet Peace, to salve each others wound: