To His Maistres
So suete a kis yistrene fra thee I reft
In bouing doun thy body on the bed,
That evin my lyfe within thy lippis I left.
Sensyne1519 from thee my spirit wald neuer shed1520.
To folou thee it from my body fled,
And left my corps als cold as ony kie1521.
Bot vhen the danger of my death I dred1522,
To seik my spreit I sent my harte to thee;
Bot it wes so inamored with thyn ee,
With thee it myndit lykuyse to remane.
So thou hes keepit captive all the thrie,
More glaid to byde then to returne agane.
Except thy breath thare places had suppleit,
Euen in thyn armes thair doutles had I deit.