I Find no peace, and all my war is done,
I fear, and hope, I burn, and freeze like ice,
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise.
And nought I have, and all the world I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison,
And boldeth me not, yet can I scape nowise:
Nor letteth me live nor die at my devise;
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain (complain)
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health:
I love another, and thus I hate myself:
I feed me in sorrow, and laugh at all my pain.
Likewise displeaseth me both death and life,
And my delight is causer of my strife.