Y-slayn was, through vengeaunce of Cupyde,
Where so covertly he didë hyde
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The grayn of cruel dethe upon ech brinke,
That deeth mot folowe, who that ever drinke;
Ne lyk the pittë of the Pegacè
Under Pernaso, where poetës slepte;
Nor lyk the welle of pure chastitè
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Which that Dyane with her nymphes kepte,