Of our bokes / whiche that ye endyte
So as ye saye is all the cyrcumstaunce
Vnto the hyghe pleasure of the reed and the whyte
Which hath your trouth / and wyll you acquyte
Doubte ye no thynge / but at the last ye maye
Of your true mynde yet fynde a Ioyfull daye
Forsothe I sayd / dysdayne and straungenesse
I fere them sore / and fals reporte
I wolde they were / in warde all doutles
Lyke as I was / without conforte