III. Have in mynd, in mynd, in mynd, secuters be oft onekynd. MAN, be war, the way ys sleder, Thy sowle sall go thou wottes not weder, Lytyll joye ys son done. Have thi sowle in thi mynd, The secators be ryght onkynd; Man, be thi own freynd, Lytyll joye ys son done. In holy bok yt ys wreten, That sely soule ys son forgeten, And treu yt ys for to seken; Syng another for the ; God send us love and charité ! Lytyll joye ys son done. IV. HERFOR, and therfor, and therfor I came, Ther wer 3 angry, 3 angry ther wer: A wasp, a wesyll, and a woman. Ther wer 3 cheteryng, iij. cheteryng ther wer: A peye, a jaye, and a woman. Ther wer 3 wold be betyn, 3 wold be betyn ther wer: A myll, a stoke fysche, and a woman. V. Er virgine natus, Christe, es sine macula; Spiritus sancte, Deus, fer nobis juvamen, VI. For pencynesse and grett distresse I am full woo; WHYLOME I present was with my soffreyne, For than I lyved Fro sorow deprived; Of plesure havyng habundawnce and delice. But now forsothe Sore hytt me ruthe, Fortune contrarythe to my device. For pencynesse, etc. Whane fortune flatery ay deseveabyll, I schuld ay fynd The whele of fortunat fyxyd fast; Nott for no chawnce To mak delyawnce, Whyle my terme of lyff had past. For pencynesse, etc. Butt now prosyrs glorius be myxyd with gall, Wyche bytter ys and tedius over all; Venimus as poysen, To me full naysom. And from her palyse ryall, Ful cruelly And onavysedly Sche hath soferyd me to fall. For pencynesse, etc. And into gret dole and mysery, Devoyd of all felyce, With her owtrage, Me puttyng to damnag, With hert contrystant thyse wordes I sey: For pencynesse And hyre distresse Fad doth my yoye and wannych awey. For pencynesse, etc. For by her rygurus and crabyd violence, That repugnant is to my wyll; Hyherd myschawnce and case, Utterly hath alteryd my purpose and entent. Schuld I not morne and in hert be sad, Whan slydery cyn, wych never abydyng had, Wher syght ys nout, farwel thow3t, and have gud For pencynesse, etc. Thus my enmye mortale doyth determyne, With dystawnce of place and current tyme And never to redwnd, [day. But me consume and utterly wast; And of al resort Of joy and comfort, Desolate me make and in penurye me cast. Whome nature excellently hath avawncyd, And hevynly grace gyftes most and syngularly hath enhawncyd, In bewte, in sagacite, In facund spech and in benyngnyte, In behavyowr gudly, me umbyll in spyryt, And sondry wertuse, Wych canot discuse, Frome hym am I sewrd be fortuns despit. VII. Now ys wele and all thyng ary3t, Sythyn yt is we wele we do, |