More pacyently hys peynys to endure;
And ryght so I, so it yow not dysplease,
Wryght in thys wyse my peynys to apease.
For when I cownt and mak a reknyng
Betwyx my lyfe, my dethe, and my desyer,
My lyfe, alas! it servyth of no thyng
Sythe with your partyng, depertyd my plesyer.
Wyshyng your presence setyth me on fyer;
But then your absence dothe my hert so cold,
That for the peyne I not[68.1] me wher to hold.