As nature could deuise For this most goodly flour This blossome of freshe coloure, &c. SOFT and make no din For now I wil begin To haue in remembraunce And any man conuert To geue her his whole hart She made me sore amased Upon her whan I gased Me thought mine hart was crased My eyen were so dased For this most goodly flour The blossome of fresh colour, &c. AND to amend her tale Whan she lyst to auale And with her fingers small That are so quickely vayned The matter wer to nyce And yet there was no vyce Nor yet no villany But only fantasy For this most goodly floure The blossome of fresh colour, &c. BUT wherto shold I note How often dyd I tote Upon her pretye fote It raysed myne hart rote To see her treade the grounde She is plainly expresse And lyke to her ymage But she wold chaunge his mood 281 Suche relucent grace Is formed in her face For this most goodly flour This blossome of freshe coloure, &c. So goodly as she dresses This blossome of freshe coloure, &c. HER Kyrtel so goodly lased And vnder that is braced Such pleasures that I may Neither write nor say Yet thoughe I write not with ink |