Lo, as Palamon did seek Emelye fayre, This knyght doth ryde through digitalle ayre. No sterres do gyde, no Venus appeere, Hys questioun loste in a lond fulle dreere. No temple of Mars, no fat to fulfill, Yit styll he rideth with iron wille. For knyghtes trewe, though pages do stray, Shalle fynde ther honoure in every way.