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 I will go out a-searching, Culling from each a fair trait To make me a borrowed lady Till I again find you ready.

Bels Cembelins, I take of you your colour, For it's your own, and your glance Where love is, A proud thing I do here, For, as to colour and eyes I shall have missed nothing at all, Having yours. I ask of Midons Aelis (of Montfort) Her straight speech free-running, That my phantom lack not in cunning.

At Chalais of the Viscountess, I would That she give me outright Her two hands and her throat, So take I my road To Rochechouart, Swift-foot to my Lady Anhes, Seeing that Tristan's lady Iseutz had never Such grace of locks, I do ye to wit, Though she'd the far fame for it.

Of Audiart at Malemort, Though she with a full heart Wish me ill, I'd have her form that's laced