The longe love that in my thought doeth harbar

The longe love that in my thought doeth harbar :
And in myn hert doeth kepe his residence :
Into my face preseth with bolde pretence :
And therein campeth spreding his baner.

She that me lerneth to love and suffre :
And willes that my trust and lustes negligence
Be rayned by reason, shame, and reverence :
With his hardines taketh displeasur.

Where with all unto the hertes forrest he fleith :
Leving his enterprise with payn and cry :
And ther him hideth and not appereth.

What may I do when my maister fereth?
But in the feld with him to lyve and dye?
For goode is the liff, ending faithfully.