Sauf in your dreme right late this other day:
Why, yis, parde! my life, that durst I lay,
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That ye were caught upon an heth, when I
Saw you complain, and sigh full pitously;
Within an erber, and a garden fair
With floures growe, and herbes vertuous,
Of which the savour swete was and the eyr,
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There were your-self full hoot and amorous: