And hindre hem neithir night ne day,
6065
But do thy might hem to releve,
And eek our enemies that thou greve.
Thyn be this might, I graunt it thee,
My king of harlotes shalt thou be;
We wol that thou have such honour.
6070
Certeyn, thou art a fals traitour,
And eek a theef; sith thou were born,