Your yen two woll sle me sodenly! 

I may the beute of them not sustene 

So wondeth is throrowout my herte kene 

And, but your word woll helen hastely 

My hertes wound, while that it is grene 



Your yen two woll sle me sodenly! 

I may the beute of them not sustene 

Upon my trouth, I sey you feithfully 

That ye ben of my liffe and deth the quene 

For with my deth the trouth shall be sene 



So hath your beaute fro your herte chased 

Pitee, that me n'availeth not to plaine 

For Danger, halt your mercy in his chaine 

Giltless, my deth thus have ye me purchased! 

I sey you soth, me nedeth not to feine 



So hath your beaute fro your herte chased 

Pitee, that me n'availeth not to plaine 

Alas! That Nature hath in you compassed 

So grete beaute that no man may attaine 

To mercy, though he sterve for the paine 



Your yen two woll sle me sodenly! 

I may the beute of them not sustene 

So wondeth is throrowout my herte kene 

And, but your word woll helen hastely 

My hertes wound, while that it is grene