But than hir beaute encreased my payne;
I coude nothyng resyst the contrary;
She wrapt my herte in a brennyng chayne.
To the musycall toure she went than agayne;
I wente after, I roude not behynde.
The chayne she haled whych my heart dyd bynde,
Tyl that we came into a chamber gaye,
Where that Musyke, wyth all her minstralsy,
Dyvers base daunces moost swetely dyd playe,
That them to here it was great melody;