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THE FRIAR IN THE WELL.
" Behind yon cloth run thou," quoth she, sz
" For there my master cannot see."
Behind the cloth the fryer went,
And was in the well incontinent.
" Alas ! " quoth he, " I'm in the well;"
"No matter," quoth she, "if thou wert in hell. *°
" Thou saidst thou could sing me out of hell: I prithee sing thyself out of the well. Sing out," quoth she, " with all thy might. Or else thou'rt like to sing there all night."
The fryer sang out with a pitiful sound, «
" 0 help me out, or I shall be drown'd." [" I trow," quoth she, " your courage is cool'd ;" Quoth the fryer, " I never was so fool'd. " I never was served so before ;" " Then take heed," quoth she, " thou com'st here no more." ■»
Quoth he, " For sweet St. Francis sake,
On his disciple some pity take : "
Quoth she, " St. Francis never taught
His scholars to tempt young maids to naught."
The friar did entreat her still «
That she would help him out of the well: She heard him make such piteous moan, She help'd him out, and bid him begone.