88. And Troilus, o thing I dar thee swere,
That if Criseyde, whiche that is thy leef,
Now loveth thee as wel as thou dost here,
God helpe me so, she nil not take a-greef,
Though thou do bote a-noon in this mischeef.
615
And if she wilneth fro thee for to passe,
Thanne is she fals; so love hir wel the lasse.
[89]. For-thy tak herte, and thenk, right as a knight,
Thourgh love is broken alday every lawe.