Such lore couthe I nevere gete,
Which myhte make me foryete
O point, bot if so were I slepte,[1451]
That I my tydes ay ne kepte
To thenke of love and of his lawe;
That herte can I noght withdrawe. 5420
Forthi, my goode fader diere,
Lef al and speke of my matiere[1452]
P. iii. 274
Touchende of love, as we begonne: