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I am expert, for baith I have assailit.
I mend the fyr, and beikit me about,
Than tuik ane drink my spreitis to comfort,
And armit me weill fra the cauld thairout.
To cut the winter-nicht, and mak it short,
40
I tuik ane quair, and left all uther sport,
Writtin be worthy Chaucer glorious,
Of fair Cresseid and lusty Troilus.