] But truëly, mine owen master dear, This was a piteous talë for to hear; But natheless, pass over; ’tis no force. 3486 I pray to God to save thy gentle corse, 3487 And eke thine urinals, and thy jordans, Thine Hippocras, and eke thy Galliens, 3488 And every boist 3489 full of thy lectuary, God bless them, and our lady Saintë Mary. So may I thé, 3490 thou art a proper man, And like a prelate, by Saint Ronian; Said I not well? Can I not speak in term? 3491 But well I wot thou dost 3492 mine heart to erme, 3493