My lady loveth me dowtles,
And will change for no newe.
"Thou art happy while that doeth last,
But I say, as I fynde,
That women's love is but a blast,
And torneth with the wynde."
Suche folkes can take no harme by love,
That can abide their torn.
"But I alas can no way prove
In love, but lake and morn."
But if thou wilt avoyde thy harme
Lerne this lessen of me,
At others fieres thy selfe to warme,
And let them warme with the.