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"Nay," quod the devel, "God woot, never a deel! |
| It is nat his entente, trust me weel. |
| Axe hym thyself, it thou nat trowest me; |
| Or elles stynt a while, and thou shalt see." |
295 | This cartere thakketh his hors upon the croupe, |
| And they bigonne to drawen and to stoupe. |
| "Heyt! Now," quod he, "ther Jhesu Crist yow blesse, |
| And al his handwerk, bothe moore and lesse! |
| That was wel twight, myn owene lyard boy. |
300 | I pray God save thee, and Seinte Loy! |
| Now is my cart out of the slow, pardee!" |
| "Lo, brother," quod the feend, "what tolde I thee? |
| Heere may ye se, myn owene deere brother, |
| The carl spak oo thing, but he thoghte another. |
305 | Lat us go forth abouten oure viage; |
| Heere wynne I nothyng upon cariage." |
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"Nay," said the devil, "God knows, never a bit. |
| It is not his intention, trust to it. |
| Ask him yourself, if you believe not me, |
| Or else withhold a while, and you shall see." |
295 | This carter stroked his nags upon the croup, |
| And they began in collars low to stoop. |
| "Hi now!" cried he, "May Jesus Christ you bless |
| And all his creatures, greater, aye and less! |
| That was well pulled, old horse, my own grey boy! |
300 | I pray God save you, and good Saint Eloy! |
| Now is my cart out of the slough, by gad!" |
| "Lo, brother," said the fiend, "what said I, lad? |
| Here may you see, my very own dear brother, |
| The peasant said one thing, but thought another. |
305 | Let us go forth upon our travellers' way; |
| Here win I nothing I can take today." |
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