Her louring chere she may ryght sone chaunge,
And you excepte and cal unto her grace.
Dyspayre you not, for in good tyme and space
Nothynge there is but wysdom may it wynne,
To tell your mynde I praye you to begynne.
Unto you, quod I, wyth al my hole assent
I wyl tell you trouth, and you wyl not bewray
Unto none other my mater and entent.
Nay, nay, quod he, you shall not se that day;
Your hole affyaunce and trust ye well ye may