your brennande vertues, shyning amonges al folk, and enlumininge
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al other people by habundaunce of encresing, sheweth to me
but smoke and no light! These thinges to thinke in myn herte
maketh every day weping in myn eyen to renne. These liggen
on my backe so sore, that importable burthen me semeth on my
backe to be charged; it maketh me backwarde to meve, whan
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my steppes by comune course even-forth pretende. These
thinges also, on right syde and lift, have me so envolved with