His countenaunce he kept with greet tourment,
But his desyr fer passed his resoun;
115
For ever his eye went after his entent
Ful many a tyme, whan it was no sesoun.
To make good chere, right sore him-self he payned,
And outwardly he fayned greet gladnesse;
To singe also by force he was constrayned
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For no plesaunce, but very shamfastnesse;