Xlvi

With gentle wordes he can her fairely greet, And bad say on the secret of her hart. Then sighing soft, I learne that litle sweet Oft tempred is (quoth she) with muchell smart: For since my brest was launcht with lovely dart Of deare Sans foy, I never joyed howre, But in eternall woes my weaker hart Have wasted, loving him with all my powre, And for his sake have felt full many an heavie stowre.