Syns love ys suche, that as ye wott

Syns love ys suche, that as ye wott,
Cannot always be wysely usyd
I say therfore then blame me nott,
Tho I therin have ben abusyd ;
Ffor as with cause I ame accusyd,
Gyllty I graunt, suche was my lott
And tho yt cannot be excusyd
Yet let suche folye be forgott

Ffor in my yeres of rekles youthe
Me thought the power of love so gret
That to her lawes I bound my trouthe
And to my wyll there was no lett.
Me lyst no more so far to fett
Suche frute lo as of love ensewthe
The gayn was small that was to gett
And of the losse the lesse the reuthe

And few there ys but fyrst or last
A tyme in love ones shall they have;
And glad I am my tyme ys past
Henceforthe my fredome to withsave.
Now in my hart there shall I grave
The groundyd grace that now I tast;
Thankyd be fortune that me gave
So fayre a gyfft, so sure and fast.

Now suche as have me sene ere thys
When youthe in me sett forthe hys kynd,
And foly framd my thought amys,
The fawte wherof now well I ffynde,
Loo, syns that so yt ys assynd
That unto eche a tyme there ys.
Then blame the lott that led my mynd
Sometyme to lyve in loves blys.

But frome henceforthe I do protest.
By presse of that that I have past,
Shall never ceace within my brest
The power of love so late owtcast.
The knott thereof ys knytt ffull fast.
And I therto so sure proffest,
Ffor evermore with me to last
The power wherin I am possest.