To whom shal I then pleyne of my distresse?
Who may me helpe? Who may my harm redresse?
Shall I compleyne unto my lady fre? }
Nay, certes! for she hath such hevynesse, }
For fere, and eek for wo, that, as I gesse, }
In litil tyme it wol her bane be. }
But were she sauf, it were no fors of me!
Alas! that ever lovers mote endure,
For love, | so ma|ny a pe|rilous a|venture!
(ll. 191-199.)
My dere herte and best beloved fo,
Why liketh yow to do me al this wo,
What have I doon that greveth yow, or sayd,
But for I serve and love yow and no mo?
And whilst I lyve I wol ever do so;
And therefor, swete, ne beth nat yvel apayd.
For so good and so fair as [that] ye be }
Hit were right grete wonder but ye hadde }
Of alle servantes, bothe of goode and badde; }
And leest worthy of alle hem, I am he. }
Not dissimilar suggestions may be found in Dunbar's Golden Targe.
We heard how they you hight,
If they might find that child,
For to have told you right,
But certes they are beguiled.
{ Swilk tales are not to trow,
{ Full well wot ilka wight,
{ Thou shall never more have might
{ Ne maistery unto you.
Who, as an offering at your shrine,
Have sung this hymn and here entreat
One spark of your diviner heat
To light upon a love of mine.