And at the ende have had their desyre,
Of al their sorow for to quenche the fyre.
Languysshe no more, but plucke up thyne herte,
Exyle dyspayre, and live a whyle in hope;
And kepe your love all close and coverte;
It may so fortune that your lady grope
Somwhat of love for to drynke a slope;
Though outwardly she dare not let you know,
But at the last, as I beleve and trowe,
She can not kepe it so prively and close,