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;