Whose grace and beaute / shyneth so ryght clere
That in my herte your beaute doth appere
Nothynge is past / but that fortunes pleasure
May call it agayne / in the tyme future
¶ Pucell.
I denye not but that your dedes do shewe
By meruaylous prowes / truely your gentylnesse
To make you a carter / there were not afewe
But tho by crafte / whiche thought you to oppresse
To accombre them selfe applye the besynesse