Of fresh woodbind, be such as never were
To love untrue in word, thought, ne dede,
But aye stedfast, ne for pleasaunce, ne fere,
Though that they should their hertes all to-tere,
Would never flit but ever were stedfast,
Till that their lives there asunder brast.”
“Now fair madame,” quoth I, “yet I would pray
Your ladiship, if that it mighte be,
That I might knowe by some maner way,
Sith that it hath liked your beaute,