Wynde you from wanhope, and aquaynte you with me.
A grete mysaduenture, thy Maker to dysplease,
Thyselfe myscheuynge to thyne endlesse dysease! 2370
There was neuer so harde a storme of mysery,
But thrughe goodhope there may come remedy.
Magn. Your wordes be more sweter than ony precyous narde,
They molefy so easely my harte that was so harde;
There is no bawme, ne gumme of Arabe,
More delectable than your langage to me.
Good. Syr, your fesycyan is the grace of God,