With rasour whetted never so kene,
That Gyle in braunches cut thrittene;
Ther can no wight distincte it so,
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That he dar sey a word therto.
'But what herberwe that ever I take,
Or what semblant that ever I make,
I mene but gyle, and folowe that;
For right no mo than Gibbe our cat
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