The wyde world riht as he wolde,
Whan he his herte hath noght withholde
Toward himself, al is in vein.
And thus, my Sone, I wolde sein,
As I seide er, that thou aryse,
Er that thou falle in such a wise
That thou ne myht thiself rekevere:
For love, which that blind was evere, 2130
Makth alle his servantz blinde also.
My Sone, and if thou have be so,