So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced
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Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.
III. Escape.
Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,
I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;
Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.
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He may answere, and seye this or that;