215. Now spek, now prey, now pitously compleyne;
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Lat not for nyce shame, or drede, or slouthe;
Som-tyme a man mot telle his owene peyne;
Bileve it, and she shal han on thee routhe;
Thou shalt be saved by thy feyth, in trouthe.
But wel wot I, thou art now in a drede;
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And what it is, I leye, I can arede.
216. Thow thinkest now, "how sholde I doon al this?