For were nat proude clothynge, and also flesshely lust
All the feters and gyues of Englonde shulde rust.
Therfore folys awake, and be no longer blynde
Consyder that shame, seknes, and pouertye
Of loue procedeth: and drawe from it your mynde
Suffre not your soules damned and lost to be
By vayne lust and carnall sensualyte
For thoughe the small pleasure do make the fayne
The ende oft is worldly wo and myserye
Or amonge the fendes eternall payne