Wolde ye turne and leve your pryde,
Your hyë port, and your richesse,
Your cursing shuld not go so wyde;
God bring you into rightwysnesse!
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For I drede not your tyranny,
For nothing that ye can doon;
To suffre I am all redy,
Siker, I recke never how soon!"
The Griffon grinned as he were wood,