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261 Or by his witte, or by his prowesse,
262 Of that hath she gret hevynesse;
263 ffor, trustith wel, she goth nygh wode
264 Whan any chaunge happith gode.
265 Envie is of such crueltee,
266 That feith ne trouth holdith she
267 To freend ne felawe, bad or good.
268 Ne she hath kynne noon of hir blood,
269 That she nys ful her enemye;
270 She nolde, I dar seyn hardelye,
271 Hir owne fadir farede well.
272 And sore abieth she everydell
273 Hir malice, and hir male talent:
274 ffor she is in so gret turment
275 And hath such, whan folk doth good,
276 That nygh she meltith for pure wood;
277 Hir herte kervyth and so brekith
278 That god the puple wel Awrekith.
279 Envie, iwis, shal nevere lette
280 Som blame upon the folk to sette.
281 I trowe that if envie, iwis,
282 Knewe the best man that is
283 On this side or biyonde the see,
284 Yit somwhat lakken hym wolde she.
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