In this metre for yow lyste to procede,
Men vsen yt; therfore on hit take hede.
¶ But amonge alle that I thenke of to telle,
My purpos ys first only forto trete
How yee Babees in housholde that done duelle
Shulde haue youre sylf whenne yee be sette at mete,
And how yee shulde, whenne men lyste yow Rehete,
Haue wordes lovly, swete, bleste, and benyngne.
In this helpe me O Marie, Modir dyngne!
¶ And eke, O lady myn, Facecia!