Ryght so ar these Chyldren roted in myschefe
Some after euer lyueth a lyfe abhomynable
To all theyr Kyn great sorowe and reprefe.
The one is a murderer the other a fereles thefe,
The one of god nor goode man hath no fors ne care.
Another so out wasteth that his frendes ar ful bare.
Some theyr londe and lyuelode in riot out wasteth,
At cardes, and, tenys, and other vnlawful gamys.
And some wyth the Dyce theyr thryft away casteth.
Some theyr soule damnes, and theyr body shames.