Whether Love wol socoure me or slo,
He may do hool on me his wil.
I am so sore bounde him til,
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From his servyse I may not fleen;
For lyf and deth, withouten wene,
Is in his hand; I may not chese;
He may me do bothe winne and lese.
And sith so sore he doth me greve,
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