I shall of him ymagin such a tale,
That out of joy it shall turne into bale.
And on the thirde hede, in a stremer grene,
There was written: My name is Perjury;
In many a towne I am knowen as I wene,
Where as I lyst I do great injury,
And do forswere my selfe full wrongfully:
Of all thinges I do hate conscience.
But I love lucre with all diligence.
Betwene two lovers I do make debate;