Anonymous

SLY thief, if so you will believe,

It nought or little did me grieve,

That my true heart you had bereft,

Till that unkindly you it left:

Leaving you lose, losing you kill

That which I may forego so ill.

What thing more cruel can you do

Than rob a man and kill him too?

Wherefore of love I ask this meed,

To bring you where you did this deed,

That there you may, for your amisses

Be damaged in a thousand kisses.