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THe doubt
which ye misdeeme, fayre loue, is vaine
That fondly
feare to loose your liberty,
when loosing one, two
liberties ye gayne,
and make him bond that bondage
earst dyd fly.
Sweet be the bands, the which true
loue doth tye,
without constraynt or dread of any
ill:
the gentle birde feeles no captiuity
within
her cage, but singes and feeds her fill.
There pride
dare not approch, nor discord spill
the league twixt
them, that loyal loue hath bound:
but simple truth
and mutuall good will,
seekes with sweet peace to
salue each others wou[n]d
There fayth doth fearlesse
dwell in brasen towre,
and spotlesse pleasure builds
her sacred bowre.
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