And though ye deye for doel,

The devel have that reccheth."

Tho were faitours a-fered,

And feyned hem blynde;

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Somme leide hir legges a-liry,

As swiche losels konneth,

And made hir mone to Piers,

And preide hym of grace;

"For we have no lymes to laboure with,