For he held faste by this word and letter:
Who bets is bad, who betteth not, no bet-er.
A benedicite on this I'll stak my alle."
Away goth Wille to the poole halle.
Alas for him that trusteth to a theefe!
He may go pypen in an ivy leefe.
The poole man ran with the groates away.
Cryed Will: "Alas! alas! and wel-a-way!
I have been japed and ful yvel a-payd."
Creditoures knocked and Wille laid
Upon his bed and kepte verray stille,
As doth an ant upon an ante hille.
Cam Carl and loudly shouted in his eere:
"Come Wille now and pay me for the beere."
Cam he that sold him weedes for to smoke -
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