¶ Pucell.
Of late I sawe a boke of your makynge
Called the pastyme of pleasure / whiche is wõderous
For I thynge and you had not ben in louynge
Ye coude neuer haue made it so sentencyous
I redde there all your passage daungerous
Wherfore I wene for the fayre ladyes sake
That ye dyd loue / ye dyde that boke so make
¶ Amour.
Forsothe madame / I dyde compyle that boke