For ofte whan thou bithenkist thee Of thy loving, wher-so thou be, Fro folk thou must depart in hy, That noon perceyve thy malady, But hyde thyn harm thou must alone, 2395 And go forth sole, and make thy mone. Thou shalt no whyl be in oo stat, But whylom cold and whylom hat; Now reed as rose, now yelowe and fade. Such sorowe, I trowe, thou never hade; 2400 Cotidien, ne [yit] quarteyne, It is nat so ful of peyne. For ofte tymes it shal falle In love, among thy peynes alle, That thou thy-self, al hoolly, 2405 Foryeten shalt so utterly, That many tymes thou shalt be Stille as an image of tree, Dom as a stoon, without stering Of foot or hond, without speking. 2410 Than, sone after al thy peyne, To memorie shalt thou come ageyn, As man abasshed wondre sore, And after sighen more and more. For wit thou wel, withouten wene, 2415 In swich astat ful oft have been That have the yvel of love assayd, Wher-through thou art so dismayd. 'After, a thought shal take thee so, That thy love is to fer thee fro: 2420 Thou shalt say, "God, what may this be, That I ne may my lady see? Myne herte aloon is to her go, And I abyde al sole in wo, Departed fro myn owne thought, 2425 And with myne eyen see right nought. '"Alas, myn eyen sende I ne may, My careful herte to convay! Myn hertes gyde but they be, I praise no-thing what ever they see. 2430 Shul they abyde thanne? nay; But goon visyte without delay That myn herte desyreth so. For certeynly, but-if they go, A fool my-self I may wel holde, 2435 Whan I ne see what myn herte wolde. Wherfore I wol gon her to seen, Or esed shal I never been, But I have som tokening." Then gost thou forth without dwelling; 2440 But ofte thou faylest of thy desyre, Er thou mayst come hir any nere, And wastest in vayn thy passage. Than fallest thou in a newe rage; For want of sight thou ginnest morne, 2445 And homward pensif dost retorne. In greet mischeef than shall thou be, For than agayn shal come to thee Sighes and pleyntes, with newe wo, That no icching prikketh so. 2450 Who wot it nought, he may go lere Of hem that byen love so dere. 'No-thing thyn herte appesen may, That oft thou wolt goon and assay, If thou mayst seen, by aventure, 2455 Thy lyves joy, thyn hertis cure; So that, by grace if thou might Atteyne of hir to have a sight, Than shall thou doon non other dede But with that sight thyn eyen fede. 2460 That faire fresh whan thou mayst see, Thyn herte shal so ravisshed be, That never thou woldest, thy thankis, lete, Ne remove, for to see that swete. The more thou seest in sothfastnesse, 2465 The more thou coveytest of that swetnesse;