Or love the wers, though wrecches on it cryen?
No wele is worth, that may no [sorwe dryen].
And for-thy, who that hath an [heed of verre],
Fro cast of stones war him in the werre!
125. But I with al myn herte and al my might,
870
As I have seyd, wol love, un-to my laste,
My dere herte, and al myn owene knight,
In which myn herte growen is so faste,
And his in me, that it shal ever laste.