What no perdy ye may be sure

What no perdy ye may be sure !
Thinck not to make me to your lure,
With wordes and chere so contrarieng,
Swete and sowre contrewaing;
To much it were still to endure ;
Trouth is tryed where craft is in ure ;
But though ye have hade my hertes cure
Trow ye I dote withoute ending?
What no perdy !

Though that with pain I do procure
For to forgett that ons was pure,
Within my hert shall still that thing
Unstable, unsure, and wavering
Be in my mynde withoute recure?
What no perdy !