For unto them it is a bitter sweet; So seemeth it; for had they but a sheet Which that they mightë wrap them in at night, And a bratt 4724 to walk in by dayëlight, They would them sell, and spend it on this craft; They cannot stint, 4725 until no thing be laft. And evermore, wherever that they gon, Men may them knowë by smell of brimstóne; For all the world they stinken as a goat; Their savour is so rammish and so hot, That though a man a milë from them be, The savour will infect him, trustë me. Lo, thus by smelling and threadbare array, If that men list, this folk they knowë may. And if a man will ask them privily, Why they be clothed so unthriftily, 4726 They right anon will rownen 4727 in his ear,