Conteke, with blody knif and sharp menace:

All full of chirking was that sory place.

The sleer of himself, yet, saw I there,

His herte-blood hath bathed all his here,

The naile ydriven in the shode anyght,

The colde deth, with mouth gaping upright.”

“Why shulde I not as vvel eke tell you all The portreiture that was upon the wall Within the temple of mighty Mars the Rede?

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