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Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale, |
| Murier than the nightyngale, |
145 | For now I wol yow rowne |
| How Sir Thopas, with sydes smale, |
| Prikyng over hill and dale |
| Is comen agayn to towne. |
|
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And listen yet, lords, to my tale, |
| Merrier than the nightingale, |
145 | Whispered to all and some, |
| How Sir Thopas, with pride grown pale, |
| Hard spurring over hill and dale, |
| Came back to his own home. |
|