He compteth noght toward his wit

The wo nomore than the wele,

No mor the hete than the chele, 1270

No mor the wete than the dreie,

No mor to live than to deie,

So that tofore ne behinde

He seth nothing, bot as the blinde

Withoute insyhte of his corage

He doth merveilles in his rage.

To what thing that he wole him drawe,