| Madame, for your newefangelnesse |
| Many a servaunt have ye put out of grace. |
| I take my leve of your unstedfastnesse, |
| For wel I wot, whyl ye have lyves space, |
| 5 | Ye can not love ful half yeer in a place, |
| To newe thing your lust is ay so kene. |
| In stede of blew, thus may ye were al grene. |
| |
| Right as a mirour nothing may impresse, |
| But, lightly as it cometh, so mot it pace, |
| 10 | So fareth your love, your werkes beren witnesse. |
| Ther is no feith that may your herte enbrace, |
| But as a wedercok, that turneth his face |
| With every wind, ye fare, and that is sene; |
| In stede of blew, thus may ye were al grene. |
| |
| 15 | Ye might be shryned for your brotelnesse |
| Bet than Dalyda, Creseyde or Candace, |
| For ever in chaunging stant your sikernesse; |
| That tache may no wight fro your herte arace. |
| If ye lese oon, ye can wel tweyn purchace; |
| 20 | Al light for somer (ye woot wel what I mene), |
| In stede of blew, thus may ye were al grene. |