That evermore the salte teres downe hayled
Whan the chaunce of love he hymselfe bewayled.
Aferde he was of the true love to breke,
For sayng nay whan he therof should speke;
Tyll of constraynt of wofull hevynes,
For to have remedy of his sore sekenes,
Whan he her spyed ryght secrete alone,
Unto her he wente and made all his mone.
Alas! he sayd, the cause of my wo,
Myne only lady and maystres also,