Of thee, hir eem, she nil no swich thing here.'
147. Quod Pandarus, 'thou hast a ful gret care
Lest that the [cherl] may falle out of the mone!
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Why, lord! I hate of thee thy nyce fare!
Why, [entremete] of that thou hast to done!
For goddes love, I bidde thee a bone,
So lat me alone, and it shal be thy beste.'—
'Why, freend,' quod he, 'now do right as thee leste.
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