Alas these folys our mayster criste betray
Of mannes soule wherof they haue the cure
And settynge in their stede syr Johnn of garnesey
They thynketh them selfe dischargyd quyte and sure
These folys note nat that euery creature.
Whiche here of soulys doth cure or charge take
At domys day a compt for them shall make
But if I sholde touche all the enormytees
The immoderat couetyse and desyre of dignyte
That nowe is vsed amonge all the degrees