human
Now have I told thee what truthe is, That no tresor is bettre; I may no lenger lenge thee with, Now loke thee oure Lorde.
gpt
Mercy, madame, For Marie love of hevene, That bar that blisful barn That boughte us on the rode, Kenne me by som craft To knowe the false.
human
Loke up on thi left half, And lo where he stondeth! Bothe Fals and Favel, 890 And hire feeres manye.