My pen, take payn a lyttyll space

My pen, take payn a lyttyll space
To folow that whyche dothe me chase.
And hathe in hold my hart so sore ;
But when thow hast thys browght to passe,
My pen I prithe, wryght nomore !

Remember, oft thow hast me easyd,
And all my payne full well apeasyd
But now I know, unknowen before,
Ffor where I trust I am dysceavyd;
And yet my pen thow canst no more.

A tyme thow haddyst as other have,
To wryght whyche way my hope to crave ;
That tyme ys past, withdrawe therffore ;
Syns we do lose that other save
As good leve off and wryght no more.

In worthe to use another waye
Not as we wold, but as we maye.
For ons my losse ys past restore,
And my desyre ys my decaye.
My pen, yet wryght a lytyll more.
To love in vayn who ever shall,

Of worldlye payn it passythe all,
As in lyke case I fynd; wherefore
To hold so fast and yet to ffall !
Alas my pen, now wryght no more !
Syns thow hast taken payn thys space
To folow that whyche dothe me chase
And hathe in hold my hart so sore,
Now hast thow browght my mynde to passe
My pen I prithe wryght no more !