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elpe then, O holy Virgin chiefe of nine,[*] 10Thy weaker Novice to performe thy will;Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryneThe antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,Of Faerie knights[*] and fairest Tanaquill,[*]Whom that most noble Briton Prince[*] so long 15Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,That I must rue his undeserved wrong:O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.
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