And to thy blinde double deitee
455
Of this gret wrongë I compleyne me,
And to thy stormy wilful variaunce
Y-meynt with chaunge and greet unstablenesse;
Now up, now doun, so renning is thy chaunce,
That thee to truste may be no sikernesse.
460
I wyte it nothing but thy doublenesse;
And who that is an archer and is †blent