Attourney noon ne may admitted been T'ëxcuse Trouthë, ne a word to speke; To fayth or ooth the juge list not seen, There is no gayn, but he wil be wreke. O lord of trouthe, to thee I calle and clepe; 285 How may thou see, thus in thy presence, Withoute mercy, murdred innocence? Now god, that art of trouthe soverain And seëst how I lye for trouthe bounde, So sore knit in loves fyry chain 290 Even at the deth, through-girt with many a wounde That lykly are never for to sounde, And for my trouthe am dampned to the deeth, And not abyde, but drawe along the breeth: Consider and see, in thyn eternal right, 295 How that myn herte professed whylom was For to be trewe with al my fulle might Only to oon, the whiche now, alas! Of voluntè, withoute any trespas, Myn accusours hath taken unto grace, 300 And cherissheth hem, my deth for to purchace. What meneth this? what is this wonder ure Of purveyauncë, if I shal it calle, Of god of love, that false hem so assure, And trewe, alas! doun of the whele ben falle? 305 And yet in sothe, this is the worst of alle, That Falshed wrongfully of Trouthe hath name, And Trouthe ayenward of Falshed bereth the blame. This blinde chaunce, this stormy aventure, In lovë hath most his experience; 310 For who that doth with trouthe most his cure Shal for his mede finde most offence, That serveth love with al his diligence; For who can faynë, under lowliheed, Ne fayleth not to finde grace and speed. 315 For I loved oon, ful longë sith agoon, With al my herte, body, and ful might, And, to be deed, my herte can not goon From his hest, but holde that he hath hight; Though I be banisshed out of her sight, 320 And by her mouth dampned that I shal deye, +To my behest yet I wil ever obeye. For ever, sithë that the world began, Who-so list lokë, and in storie rede, He shal ay finde that the trewe man 325 Was put abakke, wher-as the falshede Y-furthered was; for Love taketh non hede To slee the trewe, and hath of hem no charge, Wher-as the false goth freely at hir large. I take recorde of Palamides, 330 The trewe man, the noble worthy knight, That ever loved, and of his payn no relees; Notwithstonding his manhood and his might Love unto him did ful greet unright; For ay the bet he did in chevalrye, 335 The more he was hindred by envye. And ay the bet he did in every place Through his knighthood and his besy payne, The ferther was he from his lady grace, For to her mercy mighte he never attayne; 340 And to his deth he coude it not refrayne For no daungere, but ay obey and serve As he best coude, plainly, til he sterve.