Or see your colour like the sunné bright,
That of yellowness ne had never peer;
Ye be my life, ye be my heartés steer;
Queen of comfórt and of good company,
Be heavy again, or ellés must I die.
Now, purse, that art to me my livés light,
And saviour, as down in this world here,
Out of this towné help me by your might,
Sithen that you will not be my tresór,
For I am shave as nigh as any frere,