Wyth dame Repentaunce I will not be shent.
Amoure.
O swete madame! now all my desteny
Unhap and happy, upon you doth growe:
Yf that you call me unto your mercy
Of all happy the most happy, I trow,
Than shall I be, of hye degre or lowe;
And yf ye lyste so me than to forsake,
Of all unhappy none shal be my make.