What no, perdy, ye may be sure!
Thinck not to make me to your lure
With wordes and chere so contrarieng,
Swete and sowre contrewaing;
To much it were still to endure.
Trouth is tryed where craft is in vre;
But though ye have had my hertes cure
Trow ye I dote withoute ending?
What no, perdy!
Though that with pain I do procure
For to forgett that ons was pure
Within my hert shall still that thing
Vnstable, vnsure and wavering
Be in my mynde withoute recure?
What no, perdy!