4837 (the devil out of his skin Him turn, I pray to God, for his falsehéad, For he was ever false in thought and deed), And with his stick, above the crossëlet, That was ordained with that falsë get, 4838 He stirr’d the coalës, till relentë gan The wax against the fire, as every man, But he a fool be, knows well it must need. And all that in the stickë was out yede, 4839 And in the croslet hastily 4840 it fell. Now, goodë Sirs, what will ye bet 4841 than well? When that this priest was thus beguil’d again, Supposing naught but truthë, sooth to sayn, He was so glad, that I can not express In no mannére his mirth and his gladnéss; And to the canon he proffér’d eftsoon 4842