I vysyte theyr faders and moders with sekenesse;
And yf I se therby they wyll not amende,
Then myschefe sodaynly I them sende;
For there is nothynge that more dyspleaseth God
Than from theyr chyldren to spare the rod
Of correccyon, but let them haue theyr wyll;
Some I make lame, and some I do kyll;
And some[851] I stryke with a franesy;
Of some of theyr chyldren I stryke out the eye;
And where the fader by wysdom worshyp hath wonne, 1960