'There been mo sterres, god wot, than a paire!'
Now fy, cherl!' quod the gentil tercelet,
Out of the dunghil com that word ful right,
Thou canst noght see which thing is wel be-set:
Thou farest by love as oules doon by light,
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The day hem blent, ful wel they see by night;
Thy kind is of so lowe a wrechednesse,
That what love is, thou canst nat see ne gesse.'
Tho gan the cukkow putte him forth in prees