If Love Be Good, From Whence Cometh

But Manly Set The World On Sixe And Sevene; And, If Thou Deye A Martir, Go To Hevene.

Forbid Us Something, And That Thing We Desire.

Trouthe Is The Hyest Thyng That Man May Kepe.

Alas, Alas, That Ever Love Was Sin! I Ever Followed Natural Inclination Under The Power Of My Constellation And Was Unable To Deny, In Truth, My Chamber Of Venus To A Likely Youth.

That Of All The Floures In The Mede, Thanne Love I Most These Floures White And Rede, Suche As Men Callen Daysyes In Her Toune.