The fende scrache out your mawes!
All his subiectes and he 480
Moost louyngly agre
With hole hart and true mynde,
They fynde his grace so kynde;
Wherwith he dothe them bynde
At all houres to be redy
With hym to lyue and dye,
And to spende[267] their hart blode,
Their bodyes and their gode,