Whan worldis loue doþ fayle and folde,
Goddis loue fayleþ nouȝt.
Trewe loue makeþ men be bolde;
Wiþ loue, felawship to-gydre is brouȝt.
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(17)
¶ ffor loue, god com fro heuene toure,
In mayden Mary tok mankynde.
ffor oure swete, he drank ful soure.
Where myȝt we trewere loue fynde?
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His loue passeþ worldis tresoure,
Ȝaf syȝt in helle to gostly blynde.
And we wole knytte his loue to oure,
ffor soþe, þat knot shal neuere vnbynde.
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(18)
¶ "Haue y þy loue, so may þou gete
Þat loue wole þy soule saue,
Among myn angels haue a sete,
In ioye of heuene, as seyntes haue.
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Ȝif þou nelt [folio 117b] y wol þe þrete,
In helle pyne be fendis knaue.
Wiþ þy conscience þou trete,
Wheþer is þe leuere for to haue.
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(19)
¶ And þou madde in þy mood,
To werne me þe loue þou has,
I wole caste on þe myn herte blod,
To bere witnesse þou forfetest gras,
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And my vengeance, þat is so wood,
Wiþ helle houndis in fyre þe chas.
Þou hast fre wille, knowest euyll and good:
Chese where wyltow take þy plas.
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(20)
¶ And þou of þy loue daungere make,
What may thy loue profyte me?
And þouȝ þou woldest me forsake,
Out of my lordschipe þou myȝt not fle.
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