I am now take and stande vnder danger
Holde streight that I may not flee
A dew my songe and alle my notes cleer
Now that I haue loste my liberte
Now I am thrall where somtyme I was free
And truste well whyle I am in distresse
I can not synge nor make no gladnesse
And though my cage forged were of golde
And the pynacles of berell and cristall
I remembre a prouerbe said of olde
Who loseth his fredom forsothe he loseth all
For I had leuer vpon a braunche small
Merily to synge among the woodes grene
Than in a cage of siluer bright and shene
Songe in prison hath none acordance
Trowst thou I wyl synge in prison
Songe procedeth of Ioye and of plesance
And prison causeth deth and destruction
Ryngyng of feters is no mery sowne
Or how shold he be glad or Ioconde
Agayn his wille that lieth in cheynes bonde
What auaylleth hit a lyon to be a kynge
Of bestes alle shette in a toure of stone
Or an egle vnder streyte kepynge
Called also kynge of fowles euerichone
Fy on lordship whan liberte is gone
Answere herto late hit not asterte
Who syngeth merily that syngeth not at herte
And yf thou wilt reioyse of my syngyng
Late me goo flee fer from alle daunger
And euery day in the morenyng
I shal repayre vnto thy lawrer
And fresshly synge with lusty notes cleer
Vnder thy chambre or a fore thyn halle
Euery season whan thou liste me calle
To be shette vp and pynned vnder drede
No thyng acordeth vnto my nature
Though I were fed with mylke & wastell brede
And with cruddes brought to my pasture
Yet had I leuer to do my besy cure
Erly on morowe to scrape in the vale
To fynde my dyner among the wormes smale
The thirde is [...]
Forgete hit not [...]
For tresour lost [...]
Whiche in no wyse [...]
For who soroweth [...]
Rekene first his losse [...]
Of one sorowe he [...]
After this lesson the birde [...]
Of her escape gretly [...]
And remembrid her also [...]
Doon by the chorle first a [...] her [...]
Of her affraye and of her [...]
Glad that she was at larg [...] [...]
Sayd to hym hoouyng aboue his [...]
Thou were sayd she a veray naturel foo [...]
To suffre me departe of thy lewdenes
Thou oughtest of right compleyne & make [...]
And in thyn herte to haue grete heuynes
That thou hast lost so passing grete riches
Whiche might suffyse by valew in rekenyng
To paye the raunson of a mighty kyng
[...]
[...] entraylle
[...] vnce
[...] [...]arnettis of entaylle
[...] in bataylle
[...] hym this stone
[...] his mortal foon
[...] possession
[...] none in digence
[...] plente and foyson
[...] do hym reuerence
[...] do hym none offence
[...] now that I am goon
[...]thou [...]t / for thy part is noon
[...] loue hit maketh men gracious
[...] fauorable in euery mannes sight
[...] maketh accorde betwene folk enuyous
Cōforteth sorowfull / maketh heuy hertes light
Lyke to pasion of colour sonnyssh bright
I am a fool to telle alle cettones
Or teche a chorle the pris of precious stones