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Þer sauh þe goode mon poule
In þat pyne moni diuerse soule:
Summe to þe kne, and summe to þe hipes,
Summe to þe nauel, summe to þe lippes,
And summe he sauȝ bi-suyled as souwes
In þat pyne vp to þe brouwes;

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And þei weore turmented euerlastyngly,
Þei wept and gouled and weore sory.
And Poules herte was so sor
Þat for serwe he wepte þor.
And of þat Angel asked he
Whi summe were þer in to þe kne.
Þe Angel seide to him þen:
“Heo ben Bacbyters of men,
Þat in word and dede, as I þe say,
Hyndren heor euencristen þat þei may.
And þo þat to þe nauel þou se,
Spousbrekers and lechours þei be,
Þat aftur heore dedes, to vndurstonde,
Nolde no penaunce take on honde.
And þo þat weren up to þe lippes blake,
Stryf and Iangelyng in chirche dude make,
Vche to oþur Iangled wiþ scorn—
To heere godus wordus þei han forborn.
And þo þat weren vp to þe briȝes
In þat flod aboue þe eiȝes,
Þulke weore glade of þe mischeef
Of heore neihȝebors and of heore greef.”