Thomas Wyatt, Blage MS Poem 178
Accusyd thoo I be without desert,
Noone can hit prove, yet ye beleve hit treue;
Nor never yet, sens that ye had my hart,
Intendid I to be fals or untrewe.
Soner I wold of deth susteyne the smart
Than breke one thyng of that I promast you;
Accept therfore my servyce in good parte;
Noon ys a lyve that yll tonges can extew,
Hold them as false and let not us depart
Oure frendship old in hoppe of any new.
Put not thy trust in suche as use to fayne,
Except thow mynd to put thy frynds to payne.