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Lenuoy of R. Coplande boke prynter.

Layde vpon shelfe/in leues all to torne
With letters dymme/almost defaced clene
Thy hyllynge rotte/with wormes all to worne
Thou lay/that pyte it was to sene
Bounde with olde quayres/for aege all hoore & grene
Thy mater endormed/for lacke of thy presence
But nowe thou arte losed/go shewe forth thy sentēce
And where thou become so ordre thy language
That in excuse thy prynter loke thou haue
Whiche hathe the kepte frome ruynous domage
In snowe swyte paper/thy mater for to saue
With thylke same langage that Chaucer to the gaue
In termes olde/of sentence clered newe
Thā methe moche sweter/who cā his mȳde auewe.
And yf a louer happen on the to rede
Let be the goos with his lewde sentence
Unto the turtle and not to her to take hede
For who so chaungeth/true loue dothe offence
Loue as I rede is floure of excellence
And loue also is rote of wretchednesse
Thus be two loues/scryture bereth wytnesse.
Finis.