Men preise, and blame the tempestes.
Amans.
Mi fader, I wol do youre hestes, 2740
And of this point ye have me tawht,
Toward miself the betre sawht
I thenke be, whil that I live.
Bot for als moche as I am schrive
Of Wraththe and al his circumstance,
Yif what you list to my penance,
And asketh forthere of my lif,