3787   Now is it right me to procede,
3788   How shame gan medle and take hede,
3789   Thurgh whom fele angres I have hadde;
3790   And how the strong wall was maad,
3791   And the castell of brede and lengthe,
3792   That god of love wanne with his strengthe.
3793   Al this in romance will I sette,
3794   And for no thyng ne will I lette,
3795   So that it lykyng to hir be,
3796   That is the flour of beaute;
3797   ffor she may best my labour quyte,
3798   That I for hir love shal endite.
3799   Wikkid tunge, that th covyne
3800   Of evy lover can devyne
3801   Worste, and addith more somdell,
3802   ffor wikkid tunge seith never well,
3803   To meward bare he right gret hate,
3804   Espiyng me erly and late,
3805   Til he hath sene the gret chere
3806   Of Bialacoil and me I feere.
3807   He myght not his tunge withstonde
3808   Worse to report than he fonde,
3809   He was so full of cursed rage;
3810   It satte hym well of his lynage,