Patience, tho I have not

Patience, tho I have not
The thing that I require,
I must of force, God wot,
Forbere my moost desire ;
For no ways can I fynde
To saile againste the wynde.

Patience, do what they will
To worke me woo or spite ;
I shall content me still
To thyncke boeth day and nyte;
To thyncke and hold my peace,
Syne there is no redresse.

Patience, withouten blame.
For I offended nought ;
I knowe they knowe the same,
Though they have chaunged their thought.
Was ever thought so moved
To hate that it haith loved ?

Patience of all my harme
For fortune is my foo ;
Patience must be the charme
To hele me of my woo
Patience withoute offence
Is a painfull patience.