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I fel in thought, of joy ful desperate
With greet disese and payne, so that I was
Of al lovers the most unfortunate,
Sith by his dart most cruel, ful of hate,
The deeth hath take my lady and maistresse,
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And left me sole, thus discomfit and mate,
Sore languisshing, and in way of distresse.
Than sayd I thus, 'it falleth me to cesse