And art a knight, a worthy and an able, That by some cas, 365 since fortune is changeáble, Thou may’st to thy desire sometime attain. But I that am exiled, and barrén Of allë grace, and in so great despair, That there n’is earthë, water, fire, nor air, Nor creature, that of them maked is, That may me helpë nor comfort in this, Well ought I sterve in wanhope 366 and distress. Farewell my life, my lust, 367 and my gladnéss. Alas, why plainen men so in commúne Of purveyance of God, 368 or of Fortúne, That giveth them full oft in many a guise Well better than they can themselves devise? Some man desireth for to have richess, That cause is of his murder or great sickness.