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I praye you, of this parable declare me the entent.'
'This innocent,' quod she, 'is a scoler lerninge of my lore, in
seching of my blisse, in whiche thinge the day of his thought
turning enclyneth in-to eve; and the sonne, of very light faylinge,
maketh derke night in his conninge. Thus in derknesse of many
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doutes he walketh, and for blyndenesse of understandinge, he ne
wot in what waye he is in; forsothe, suche oon may lightly ben
begyled. To whom cam love fayned, not clothed of my livery,