Un-to my foo that yaf my herte a wounde,
240
And yet desyreth that myn harm be more?
Nay, certes! ferther wol I never founde
Non other help, my sores for to sounde.
My desteny hath shapen it ful yore;
I wil non other medecyne ne lore;
245
I wil ben ay ther I was ones bounde,
That I have seid, be seid for ever-more!