Mi fader, upon loves side Mi conscience I woll noght hyde, How that for love of pure wo I have ben ofte moeved so, That with my wisshes if I myhte, A thousand times, I yow plyhte, I hadde storven in a day; And therof I me schryve may, 1510 Though love fully me ne slowh, Mi will to deie was ynowh, So am I of my will coupable: And yit is sche noght merciable, Which mai me yive lif and hele. Bot that hir list noght with me dele, I wot be whos conseil it is, And him wolde I long time er this, And yit I wolde and evere schal, Slen and destruie in special. 1520 The gold of nyne kinges londes Ne scholde him save fro myn hondes, In my pouer if that he were; Bot yit him stant of me no fere For noght that evere I can manace. He is the hindrere of mi grace, Til he be ded I mai noght spede; So mot I nedes taken hiede And schape how that he were aweie, If I therto mai finde a weie. 1530 Mi Sone, tell me now forthi, Which is that mortiel enemy That thou manacest to be ded. Mi fader, it is such a qwed, That wher I come, he is tofore, And doth so, that mi cause is lore. What is his name? It is Daunger, Which is mi ladi consailer: For I was nevere yit so slyh, To come in eny place nyh 1540 Wher as sche was be nyht or day, That Danger ne was redy ay, With whom for speche ne for mede Yit mihte I nevere of love spede; For evere this I finde soth, Al that my ladi seith or doth To me, Daunger schal make an ende, And that makth al mi world miswende: And evere I axe his help, bot he Mai wel be cleped sanz pite; 1550 For ay the more I to him bowe, The lasse he wol my tale alowe. He hath mi ladi so englued, Sche wol noght that he be remued; For evere he hangeth on hire Seil, And is so prive of conseil, That evere whanne I have oght bede, I finde Danger in hire stede And myn ansuere of him I have; Bot for no merci that I crave, 1560 Of merci nevere a point I hadde. I finde his ansuere ay so badde, That werse mihte it nevere be: And thus betwen Danger and me Is evere werre til he dye. Bot mihte I ben of such maistrie, That I Danger hadde overcome, With that were al my joie come. Thus wolde I wonde for no Sinne, Ne yit for al this world to winne; 1570 If that I mihte finde a sleyhte, To leie al myn astat in weyhte, I wolde him fro the Court dissevere, So that he come ayeinward nevere. Therfore I wisshe and wolde fain That he were in som wise slain; For while he stant in thilke place, Ne gete I noght my ladi grace. Thus hate I dedly thilke vice, And wolde he stode in non office 1580 In place wher mi ladi is; For if he do, I wot wel this, That owther schal he deie or I Withinne a while; and noght forthi On my ladi fulofte I muse, How that sche mai hirself excuse, If that I deie in such a plit. Me thenkth sche mihte noght be qwyt That sche ne were an homicide: And if it scholde so betide, 1590 As god forbiede it scholde be, Be double weie it is pite. For I, which al my will and witt Have yove and served evere yit,