But God reward you for your girdle.
"Bot your gordel," quod G: "God yow for-3elde!
Þat wyl I welde wyth good wylle, not for þe wynne golde,
Ne þe saynt, ne þe sylk, ne þe syde pendaundes,
For wele, ne for worchyp, ne for þe wlonk werkke3,
Bot in syngne of my surfet I schal se hit ofte;
When I ride in renoun, remorde to myseluen
Þe faut & þe fayntyse of þe flesche crabbed,
How tender hit is to entyse teches of fylþe;
& þus, quen pryde schal me pryk, for prowes of armes,