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CCXLI

[Luckes, my faire falcon, and your fellowes all]

Luckes, my faire falcon, and your fellowes all,
How well pleasaunt yt were your libertie!
Ye not forsake me that faire might ye befall.
But they that somtyme lykt my companye
Like lyse awaye from ded bodies thei crall:
Loe what a profe in light adversytie!
But ye my birdes, I swear by all your belles,
Ye be my fryndes, and so be but few elles.