* * * If love now reynyd as it hath bene And war rewardit as it hath sene, Nobyll men then wold suer enserch All ways wherby thay myght it rech; But envy reynyth with such dysdayne, And causith lovers owtwardly to refrayne, Which puttes them to more and more Inwardly most grevous and sore; The faut in whome I cannot sett; But let them tell which love doth gett. To lovers I put now suer this cace - Which of ther loves doth get them grace? And unto them which doth it know Better than do I, I thynk it so. |
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