That true Love availeth not when Fortune list to frown

TO wish, and want, and not obtain;

To seek and sue ease of my pain,

Since all that ever I do is vain,

What may it avail me!

Although I strive both day and hour

Against the stream, with all my power,

If Fortune list yet for to lower,

What may it avail me!

If willingly I suffer woe;

If from the fire me list not go;

If then I burn to plain me so,

What may it avail me!

And if the harm that I suffer,

Be run too far out of measure,

To seek for help any further,

What may it avail me!

What tho’ each heart that heareth me plain,

Pitieth and plaineth for my pain;

If I no less in grief remain,

What may it avail me!

Yea! though the want of my relief

Displease the causer of my grief;

Since I remain still in mischief,

What may it avail me!

Such cruel chance doth so me threat

Continually inward to freat,

Then of release for to treat;

What may it avail me!

Fortune is deaf unto my call;

My torment moveth her not at all;

And though she turn as doth a ball,

What may it avail me!

For in despair there is no rede;

To want of ear, speech is no speed;

To linger still alive as dead,

What may it avail me!