Yet loth she was to put it in wryting,
665
But nede wol have his cours in every thing.
Soyes en sure, this was her word, certayn,
And thus she wroot, but in a litel space;
There she lovëd, her labour was in vayn,
For he was set al in another place;
670
Ful humblely desyring, in that cace,
Som good comfort, her sorow to appese,