What nedeth these threning wordes and wasted wynde

What nedeth these threning wordes and wasted wynde :
All this cannot make me restore my pray :
To robbe your good I wis is not my mynde :
Nor causeles your fair hand did I display.
Let love be judge, or els whome next we meit;
That may boeth here what you and I can say :
She toke from me an hert ; and I a glove from her ;
Let us se no we, if thon) be wourth thothr.