Up by the brydel, at the staves ende,
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That every word, he dradde hit as an arowe;
Hir daunger made him bothe bowe and bende,
And as hir liste, made him turne or wende;
For she ne graunted him in hir livinge
No grace, why that he hath lust to singe;
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But drof him forth, unnethe liste hir knowe
That he was servaunt to hir ladyshippe,