Agaynst my mynde, of that were I lothe,
To wed for fere, as them to obey;
Yet had I lever they were somwhat wrothe,
For I my selfe do here the locke and kaye
Yet of my mynde, and wyll do many a daye.
Myne owne I am, what that I lyste to do
I stand untyed, there is no joye therto.
Amoure.
O swete lady! the good perfyte sterre
Of my true herte, take ye now pyte;