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This messager, to doon his avantage, |
730 | Unto the kynges mooder rideth swithe, |
| And salueth hir ful faire in his langage, |
| "Madame," quod he, "ye may be glad and blithe, |
| And thanketh God an hundred thousand sithe. |
| My lady queene hath child, withouten doute, |
735 | To joye and blisse to al this regne aboute. |
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| This messenger, to forward his own ends, |
730 | To the king's mother rode with swiftest speed, |
| Humbly saluting her as down he bends: |
| "Madam," said he, "be joyful now indeed! |
| To God a hundred thousand thanks proceed. |
| The queen has borne a child, beyond all doubt, |
735 | To joy and bliss of all this land about. |
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