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| 815 | "Sire preest," he seyde, "I kepe han no loos |  |  | Of my craft, for I wolde it kept were cloos; |  |  | And, as ye love me, kepeth it secree. |  |  | For, and men knewen al my soutiltee, |  |  | By God, they wolden han so greet envye |  | 820 | To me, by cause of my philosophye, |  |  | I sholde be deed; ther were noon oother weye." |  |  | "God it forbeede," quod the preest, "what sey ye? |  |  | Yet hadde I levere spenden al the good |  |  | Which that I have, and elles wexe I wood, |  | 825 | Than that ye sholden falle in swich mescheef." |  | 
| 815 | "Sir priest," he said, "I do not care to lose |  |  | My secret craft, and I would 'twere kept close; |  |  | So, as you love me, keep it privily; |  |  | For if men knew all of my subtlety, |  |  | By God above, they'd have so great envy |  | 820 | Of me, because of my philosophy, |  |  | I should be slain, there'd be no other way." |  |  | "Nay, God forbid!" replied the priest. "What say? |  |  | Far rather would I spend all coin, by gad, |  |  | That I possess, and else may I grow mad, |  | 825 | Than that you fall in any such distress." |  |