For Bialacoil ne knew thee nought,

Whan thee to serve he sette his thought;

For thou wolt shame him, if thou might,

Bothe ageyn resoun and right.

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I wol no more in thee affye,

That comest so slyghly for tespye;

For it preveth wonder wel,

Thy slight and tresoun every del.'

I durst no more ther make abode,