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E’en though False-Seeming might be near,

Still would he her confession hear,

And such attention gave thereto

That oft one hat would hide the two.

A personable dame, pardee,

Though somewhat pale of visage she,

Resembling (bitch that lust-heat grips,)

Death’s horse in the Apocalypse,

Which symbolises well the race

Of hypocrites with gruesome face;

For aye this horse hath painted been

Of pale and deadly hue I ween,

And as of jaundice well-nigh dead

Was Abstinence encolourèd.

She looked as though ashamed she weri

Of those vile attributes she bare.

The pilgrim-staff she leaned upon

Which she from Fraud as gift had won,

With dreariness was tinted o’er,

And stuffed the wallet was she bore

With care and trouble.

In attire

False-Seeming dressed him of a friar.

And e’en as though for her he yearned

Towards Abstinence his face was turned.

Humble he looked and meek of cheer,

And nought of pride he let appear,

But aped a novice, mild and young,

While round his neck a bible hung.

All squireless goes he, but doth clutch,

As ’twere through weakness, treason’s crutch,

And in his sleeve-fold doth conceal

A razor keen of finest steel;