Sumwhat musyng
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Sumwhat musyng
And more morenyng,
In remembrying
The unstedfastness,
This wordle beyng
Of such welying,
Me contraryyng
What may I gess?
I fear, doubtless,
Remediless
Is now to seize
My woeful chance
For unkindness,
Withoutenless,
And no redress,
Me doth advance.
With displeasure,
To my grievance,
And no surance
Of remedy
Lo, in this trance,
Now in substance,
Such is my dance,
Willing to die.
Methinks truly
Bounden am I,
And that greatly,
To be content
Seeing plainly
Fortune doth wry
All contrary
From mine intent.
My life was lent
Me to one intent.
It is nigh spent.
Welcome Fortune!
But I ne went
Thus to be shent
But she it meant:
Such is her wont.