Min holi fader, nay ywiss,
Condicion such have I non.
For trewli, fader, I love oon
So wel with al myn hertes thoght,
That certes, thogh sche hadde noght,
And were as povere as Medea,
Which was exiled for Creusa,[50] 2540
I wolde hir noght the lasse love;
Ne thogh sche were at hire above,
As was the riche qwen Candace,