I wol nat seyn, how that hit is the cheyne
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Of Sathanas, on which he gnaweth ever,
But I dar seyn, were he out of his peyne,
As by his wille, he wolde be bounde never.
But thilke doted fool that est hath lever
Y-cheyned be than out of prisoun crepe,
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God lete him never fro his wo dissever,
Ne no man him bewayle, though he wepe.