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4

It scarce becomes me to receive

Your courteous words, for I believe

Ten thousand thanks to you I owe,

Who my poor offering honoured so

By your acceptance; be you sure

Deep sense of your kind love will dure

Long in my breast; command me what

You will, and I will fail you not;

Nor doubt you I should think to swerve

From aught that your desire may serve.

Do you but utter a command,

And I straightway will set my hand

Thereto, my life and goods will I

Devote to you ungrudgingly.

Yea! though you claimed my very soul

’Twere yours forthwith, entire and whole.

Essay me then, that I may prove

Myself well worthy utmost love.

Or if I fail, God grant that thence

I lack all joy in each sweet sense.

Cried he: I thank you, gentle sir,

To do not so would cast a slur

On my good name—if I possess

Aught that can give you happiness.

Accept it—freely share with me

Goods, honour, all are yours, pardee!

Fair sir, I cried, for love so tender

A hundred thousand thanks I render,