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