And eek remember, thyn habilite
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May not compare with hir, this well thow wot.'
Ye, than cam Hope and said, 'My frend, let be!
Beleve him not: Dispair, he ginneth dote.'
'Alas,' quod I, 'here is both cold and hot:
The tone me biddeth love, the toder nay;
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Thus wot I not what me is best to say.
But well wot I, my lady graunted me,