For that man is unbore, I dar wel swere,
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That ever wiste that she dide amis.
But wo is me, that I, that cause al this,
May thenken that she is my nece dere,
And I hir eem, and traytor eek y-fere!
40. And were it wist that I, through myn engyn,
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Hadde in my nece y-put this fantasye,
To do thy lust, and hoolly to be thyn,