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Queen of the world, quick answered he,

Before whose face all bow the knee,

If aught doth rob your heart of peace,

Whereof you fain would find release,

I pray you put full trust in me.

What thing soe’er the matter be,

Of brightest joy, or darkest grief,

You may from me gain full relief;

Confess to me whate’er you will

And your desire will I fulfil,

And all within my province do

To help, to guide, to succour you,

The while I keep your counsel hid,

Fast locked, if secrecy you bid.

And should you absolution ask,

To grant it were my grateful task,

But first, from tears your eyelids keep.

Alas! quoth she, if now I weep.

Good Genius, that small marvel is.

Before all else I counsel this,

Dear mistress, that you dry your tears,

Then if your heart confession cheers,

Tell me at full whatever thing

It is that doth thy spirit wring.