TO MY EMPTY PURSE
To you, my purse, and to none other wight,
Complain I, for ye be my lady dear;
I am sorry now that ye be so light,
For certés ye now make me heavy cheer;
Me were as lief be laid upon a bier,
For which unto your mercy thus I cry,
Be heavy again, or ellés must I die.
Now vouchsafen this day, ere it be night,
That I of you the blissful sound may hear,