“Ye thre my trypes sall have, for your travell[253],
With luffer and lowng[254], to part equale amang yow;
Prayand Pluto, the potent prince of hell,
Geve ye failye, that in his feit he fang[255] yow.
Be to me trew, thocht I no-thyng belang yow.
Sore I suspect your conscience be too large.”
“Doute nocht,” said they, “we tak it with the charge.”
“Adew, brether!” quod the pure Papingo;
“To talking more I have no time to tarye;
Bot, sen my spreit mon fra[256] my body go,