LibriVox
XXXIV. ' Sens Love hath brought us to this piteous End '
XIII ' After my Might ful fayne wold I you plese '
XXX. ' Ther was no Wight, to whom she durste plain '
VI. ' Love maketh all to gone misway '
XI. ' Yeve me my Deth, or that I have a Shame '
XXXIII. ' Is there no Grace ? Is there no Remedie ?'
XXXI. ' I wolde live in Pees, if that I might '
XII. ' And to the Dinner faste they hem spedde '
XXVIII. ' Love is not old, as whan that it is new '
VIII. ' God wote that worldly Joy is sone ago '
XVI. ' No Man may alway have Prosperitee '
III. ' And Volatile, as ay was his usage '
XXVI. ' Forbid A Love and it is ten Times so wode '
II. ' And this was gladly in the Eventide '
IV. ' CURTEIS she was, discrete, AND DEBONAIRE '
XIX. ' I deme that hire herte was ful of wo '
IX. ' Of Colour pale and dead was she '
XXIV. ' Ay fleth the Time, it wol no Man abide '
XXV. ' But I wot best wher wringeth me my Sho '
XXXII. ' For Love and not for Hate thou must be ded '
XXIX. ' I meane well, by God that sit above '
XX. ' Al sodenly she swapt adown to Ground '
VII. ' His Herte bathed in a Bath of Blisse '
V. ' Thou lovest me, that wot I wel certain '
XVIII. ' Love wol not be constreined by Maistrie '
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