A Promise

Once as methought Fortune me kissed,
And bade me ask what I thought best,
And I should have it as me list,
Therewith to set my heart in rest.

I asked nought but my dear heart
To have for evermore mine own;
Then at an end were all my smart,
Then should I need no more to moan.

Yet, for all that, a stormy blast
Had overturned this goodly day,
And Fortune seemed at the last
That to her promise she said nay.

But, like as one out of despair,
To sudden hope revived I;
Now Fortune sheweth herself so fair
That I content me wonderly.

My most desire my hand may reach,
My will is alway at my hand;
Me need not long for to beseech
Her that hath power me to command.

What earthly thing more can I crave?
What would I wish more at my will?

Nothing on earth more would I have,
Save that I have, to have it still.

For Fortune hath kept her promise,
In granting me my most desire;
Of my sufferance I have redress,
And I content me with my hire.
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