Praying to god; and thus my leve I take,
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That, er the sonne to-morowe be risen newe,
And er he have ayein his rosen hewe,
That eche of you may have suche a grace,
His owne lady in armes to embrace.
I mene thus, that, in al honestee,
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Withoute more, ye may togider speke
What so ye listë, at good libertee,