To lustiness, and been as ye have seid;
And think that I no drop of favour hight,
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Ne never had to your desire obeyd,
Till sodenly, me thought, me was affrayed,
To seen you wax so dede of countenaunce;
And Pitè bad me don you some plasaunce.
Out of her shryne she roos from deth to lyve,
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And in myne ere full prevely she spak,