“Now, Thomas, levë 2369 brother, leave thine ire, Thou shalt me find as just as is as squire; Hold not the devil’s knife aye at thine heart; Thine anger doth thee all too sorë smart; 2370 But shew to me all thy confessión.” “Nay,” quoth the sickë man, “by Saint Simón I have been shriven 2371 this day of my curáte; I have him told all wholly mine estate. Needeth no more to speak of it, saith he, But if me list of mine humility.” “Give me then of thy good to make our cloister,” Quoth he, “for many a mussel and many an oyster, When other men have been full well at ease, Hath been our food, our cloister for to rese: 2372 And yet, God wot, unneth 2373 the foundement 2374