Benethen him, love other companye,
220
And streyneth folk to love, malgre hir hede?
And then hir Ioye, for oght I can espye,
Ne lasteth not the twinkeling of an yë,
And somme han never Ioye til they be dede.
What meneth this? what is this mistihede?
225
Wherto constreyneth he his folk so faste
Thing to desyre, but hit shulde laste?