For one thing, Sirës, safely dare I say, That friends ever each other must obey, If they will longë hold in company. Love will not be constrain’d by mastery. When mast’ry comes, the god of love anon Beateth 3226 his wings, and, farewell, he is gone. Love is a thing as any spirit free. Women of kind 3227 desirë liberty, And not to be constrained as a thrall; 3228 And so do men, if soothly I say shall. Look who that is most patiént in love, He is at his advantage all above. 3229 Patience is a high virtúe certáin, For it vanquísheth, as these clerkës sayn, Thingës that rigour never should attain. For every word men may not chide or plain. Learnë to suffer, or, so may I go, 3230