I could rehearse, if that I wold,
The whole effect of Nature's plaint,
When she had lost the perfit mould,
The like to whom she could not paint;
With wringing hands, how she did cry,
And what she said, I know it, I.
"A Praise Of His Love" by Henry Howard
Or else because they may not opteyne,
They wold that other shuld yt dysdayne;
But love us a thyng gevyn by God;
In that therfor can be non odde,
But perfite in dede and betwene two. Wherfor, then, shuld we yt excho?
"Whoso That Wyll For Grace Sew" by King Henry VIII