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God better wot than my pen can report,
In every point so guided her measure,
An other while the little nightingale,
In word, in deed, in shape, in conten- And say right thus, Where are thy notis
Should thou then cease, it were great Sen when ye go, there is nought else than;7
5 Have pity.
7 For then.
8 May not follow the heart through.
9 Oughtest not.