For who that wol the god of love not serve,
I dar wel say, is worthy for to sterve;
135
And for that skil "ocy! ocy!" I grede.'
'Ey!' quod the Cukkow, 'this is a queint lawe,
That every wight shal love or be to-drawe!
But I forsake al suchë companye.
For myn entent is neither for to dye,
140
Ne, whyl I live, in loves yok to drawe.