Troilus's Song

If no love is, O God, what feele I so?
And if love is, what thing and which is he?
If love be good, from whennes cometh my wo?
If it be wikke, a wonder thinketh me,
Whan every torment and adversitee
That cometh of him may to me savory thinke,
For ay thurste I, the more that ich drinke.

And if that at myn owene lust I brenne,
From whennes cometh my wailing and my plainte?
If harm agree me, wherto plaine I thenne?
I noot, ne why unwery that I fainte.
O quikke deeth, O sweete harm so quaintitee,
But if that I consente that it be?

And if that I consente, I wrongfully
Complaine: ywis, thus possed to and fro
All stereless within a boot am I
Amidde the see, bitwixen windes two,
That in contrarye stonden everemo.
Allas, what is this wonder maladye?
For hoot of cold, for cold of hoot I die.