D'avoir l'amour de celle que je desyre,

I mene you, swete, most plesaunt of port,

Et je sai bien que ceo n'est pas mon tort

That for you singe, so as I may, for mone

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For your departing; alone I live, alone.

Though I mighte, I wolde non other chese;

In your servyce, I wolde be founden sad;

Therfore I love no labour that ye lese,

Whan, in longing, sorest ye be stad;