yet thynke not you / so soone to se a cradle
I graunt you loue / whan ye were golden sadle
¶ Amour.
Madame truely / it is oft dayly sene
Many a one dooth trust / his fortune to take
From an other man / to make hym blynde I wene
Whiche blyndeth hym / and dooth his pompe aslake
Often some hye / do fall alowe and quake
Ryght so maye they / whiche dyde fyrst prepence
My wo and payne for all theyr yll scyence