Haroldis they know thy cote armur:
Thow thou be a jantyll man borne,
Yet jentylnes in thé ys thred bare worne; 70
Haroldes from honor may thé devors,
For harlottes hawnte thyn hatefull cors:
Ye bere out brothells lyke a bawde;
Ye get therby a slendyr laude
Betweyn the tappett and the walle,—
Fusty bawdyas! I sey nat alle.
Of harlottes to vse soche an harres,