I have herd seid that thoght is fre, And natheles in privete To you, mi fader, that ben hiere Min hole schrifte forto hiere, I dar min herte wel desclose. Touchende usure, as I suppose, 4490 Which as ye telle in love is used, Mi ladi mai noght ben excused; That for o lokinge of hire yë Min hole herte til I dye With al that evere I may and can Sche hath me wonne to hire man: Wherof, me thenkth, good reson wolde That sche somdel rewarde scholde, And yive a part, ther sche hath al. I not what falle hierafter schal, 4500 Bot into nou yit dar I sein, Hire liste nevere yive ayein A goodli word in such a wise, Wherof min hope mihte arise, Mi grete love to compense. I not hou sche hire conscience Excuse wole of this usure; Be large weyhte and gret mesure Sche hath mi love, and I have noght Of that which I have diere boght, 4510 And with myn herte I have it paid; Bot al that is asyde laid, And I go loveles aboute. Hire oghte stonde if ful gret doute, Til sche redresce such a sinne, That sche wole al mi love winne And yifth me noght to live by: Noght als so moche as “grant mercy” Hir list to seie, of which I mihte Som of mi grete peine allyhte. 4520 Bot of this point, lo, thus I fare As he that paith for his chaffare, And beith it diere, and yit hath non, So mot he nedes povere gon: Thus beie I diere and have no love, That I ne mai noght come above To winne of love non encress. Bot I me wole natheles Touchende usure of love aquite; And if mi ladi be to wyte, 4530 I preie to god such grace hir sende That sche be time it mot amende. Mi Sone, of that thou hast ansuerd Touchende Usure I have al herd, Hou thou of love hast wonne smale: Bot that thou tellest in thi tale And thi ladi therof accusest, Me thenkth tho wordes thou misusest. For be thin oghne knowlechinge Thou seist hou sche for o lokinge 4540 Thin hole herte fro the tok: Sche mai be such, that hire o lok Is worth thin herte manyfold; So hast thou wel thin herte sold, Whan thou hast that is more worth. And ek of that thou tellest forth, Hou that hire weyhte of love unevene Is unto thin, under the hevene Stod nevere in evene that balance Which stant in loves governance. 4550 Such is the statut of his lawe, That thogh thi love more drawe And peise in the balance more, Thou miht noght axe ayein therfore Of duete, bot al of grace. For love is lord in every place, Ther mai no lawe him justefie Be reddour ne be compaignie, That he ne wole after his wille Whom that him liketh spede or spille. 4560 To love a man mai wel beginne, Bot whether he schal lese or winne, That wot noman til ate laste: Forthi coveite noght to faste, Mi Sone, bot abyd thin ende, Per cas al mai to goode wende. Bot that thou hast me told and said, Of o thing I am riht wel paid, That thou be sleyhte ne be guile Of no brocour hast otherwhile 4570 Engined love, for such dede Is sore venged, as I rede.