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THE PROCTOURES TALE OF GAMBLYN.

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!

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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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