"A lusty, proper
fellow I be and wi' maids a score as do sigh continual. And me to die--O
woe! And I a tanner!"
"Content ye, brothers!" said Jocelyn. "Look now, here's Gurth hath lived
but thirty years, and now must die--good: so shall he die weighted with
less of sin than had he lived thirty more. Be ye comforted in this,
distressful rogues, the shorter our life the less we sin, the which is a
fair, good thing. As for these shackles, though our bodies be 'prisoned our
souls go free, thus, while we languish here, our souls astride a sunbeam
may mount aloft, 'bove all pains and tribulations soever. Thus if we must
dance together in noose, our souls, I say, escaping these fleshy bonds,
shall wing away to freedom everlasting. Bethink ye of this, grievous
knaves, and take heart. Regarding the which same truths I will, for thy
greater comforting, incontinent make ye a song--hearken!
"Let Folly sing a song to cheer
All poor rogues that languish here,
Doomed in dismal dungeon drear,
Doomed in dungeon dim.
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