The people they alure
And drawe them from your lore,
The whiche wyll greve you sore;
Take hede, I saye, therfore,
Your nede was neuer more.
But sens ye be so slacke,
It greueth me, alacke,
To heare behynde your backe
Howe they wyll carpe and cracke,
And none of you that dare