The longe love that in my thought doeth harbar
And in myn hert doeth kepe his residence
Into my face preseth with bold pretence
And therein campeth, spreding his baner.
She that me lerneth to love and suffre
And will that my trust and lustes negligence
Be rayned by reason, shame, and reverence,
With his hardines taketh displeasure.
Wherewithall, vnto the hertes forrest he fleith,
Leving his entreprise with payne and cry,
And there him hideth and not appereth.
What may I do when my maister fereth,
But in the felde with him to lyve and dye?
For goode is the liff ending faithfully.