I wol returne and speken of my peyne;
The point is this of my destruccioun,
My righte lady, my salvacioun,
Is in affray, and not to whom to pleyne.
215
O herte swete, O lady sovereyne!
For your disese, wel oghte I swoune and swelte,
Thogh I non other harm ne drede felte.
Instability of Happiness.
¶ To what fyn made the god that sit so hye,