face and countenaunce to me-wardes? Truely, now art thou went out of towne. But ever, me thinketh, he wereth his olde clothes, and that the soule in the whiche the lyfe of frendship was 50 in, is drawen out from his other spirites. Now than, farewel, frendship! and farewel, felawes! Me thinketh, ye al han taken your leve; no force of you al at ones. But, lady of love, ye wote what I mene; yet thinke on thy servaunt that for thy love spilleth; al thinges have I forsake to folowen thyn hestes; 55 rewarde me with a thought, though ye do naught els. Remembraunce of love lyth so sore under my brest, that other thought cometh not in my mynde but gladnesse, to thinke on your goodnesse and your mery chere; +ferdnes and sorowe, to thinke on your wreche and your daunger; from whiche Christ me save! My 60 greet joye it is to have in meditacion the bountees, the vertues, the nobley in you printed; sorowe and helle comen at ones, to suppose that I be +weyved. Thus with care, sorowe, and tene am I shapt, myn ende with dethe to make. Now, good goodly, thinke on this. O wrecched foole that I am, fallen in-to so lowe, 65 the hete of my brenning tene hath me al defased. How shulde ye, lady, sette prise on so foule fylthe? My conninge is thinne, my wit is exiled; lyke to a foole naturel am I comparisoned. Trewly, lady, but your mercy the more were, I wot wel al my labour were in ydel; your mercy than passeth right. God graunt 70 that proposicion to be verifyed in me; so that, by truste of good hope, I mowe come to the haven of ese. And sith it is impossible, the colours of your qualitees to chaunge: and forsothe I wot wel, wem ne spot may not abyde there so noble vertue haboundeth, so that the defasing to you is verily [un]imaginable, 75 as countenaunce of goodnesse with encresinge vertue is so in you knit, to abyde by necessary maner: yet, if the revers mighte falle (which is ayenst kynde), I +wot wel myn herte ne shulde therfore naught flitte, by the leste poynt of gemetrye; so sadly is it +souded, that away from your service in love may he not departe. 80 O love, whan shal I ben plesed? O charitee, whan shal I ben esed? O good goodly, whan shal the dyce turne? O ful of vertue, do the chaunce of comfort upwarde to falle! O love, whan wolt thou thinke on thy servaunt? I can no more but here, out-cast of al welfare, abyde the day of my dethe, or els to see the 85 sight that might al my wellinge sorowes voyde, and of the flode make an ebbe. These diseses mowen wel, by duresse of sorowe, make my lyfe to unbodye, and so for to dye; but certes ye, lady, in a ful perfeccion of love ben so knit with my soule, that deth may not thilke knotte unbynde ne departe; so that ye and my 90 soule togider +in endeles blisse shulde dwelle; and there shal my soule at the ful ben esed, that he may have your presence, to