A fole is he, and hath no mynde deuoute
And gyueth occasyon to men on hym to rayle.
Whiche goth in the chirche, his houndes hym aboute
Some rennynge, some fast tyed to his tayle
A hawke on his fyst suche one withouten fayle
Better were to be thens, for by his dyn and cry
He troublyth them that wolde pray deuoutly:
Yet of mo folys fynde I a great nomber
Whiche thynke that it is no shame nor vylany
Within the chirche, the seruyce to encomber
With theyr lewde barkynge roundynge dyn and cry
And whyle good people ar praynge stedfastly
Theyr herte to good, with meke mynde and deuout
Suche folys them let, with theyr mad noyse and shout
And whyle the prestis also them exercyse.
In matyns masse sermon or prechynge dyuyne