La Bell Pucell to a fayre chambre bryght,
Dyde me than brynge for to rest all nyght.
And she toke her leve, I kyst her lovely.
I wente to bedde, but I coude not slepe,
For I thought so moche upon her inwardly,
Her moost swete lokes in to my herte dyde crepe,
Percynge it through with a wounde so depe;
For Nature thought every houre a daye
Tyll to my lady I sholde my dette well paye.