Al for the doughter of the kinge Admete,
665
That al his craft ne coude his sorwe bete."—
96. Right so fare I, unhappily for me;
I love oon best, and that me smerteth sore;
And yet, paraunter, can I rede thee,
And not my-self; repreve me no more.
670
I have no cause, I woot wel, for to sore
As doth an hauk that listeth for to pleye,