For Tyme Ylost May Nought Recovered Be.

For Tyme Y-lost May Not Recovered Be.

Or As An Ook Comth Of A Litel Spir, So Thorugh This Lettre, Which That She Hym Sente, Encressen Gan Desir, Of Which He Brente.

'my Lige Lady, Generally,' Quod He, 'wommen Desyren To Have Sovereyntee As Well Over Hir Housbond As Hir Love.'

Yblessed Be God That I Have Wedded Fyve! Welcome The Sixte, Whan That Evere He Shal.

Who Looks At Me, Beholdeth Sorrows All, All Pain, All Torture, Woe And All Distress; I Have No Need On Other Harms To Call, As Anguish, Languor, Cruel Bitterness, Discomfort, Dread, And Madness More And Less; Methinks From Heaven Above The Tears Must Rain In Pity For My Harsh And Cruel Pain.