ffor they feyne falsly oure feyth, hem preve I houre fon,
Sweche schul ben bounden up be the beltys til flyes hem blowe,
And gnaggyd up by the gomys tyl the devyl doth hem grone.
We may not won,
To sweche harlotis settyn reddure,
That geynseyn oure lawe and oure scripture,
Now let, sere pryncis in purpure,
In savynge of oure lawys now telle on.
Primus Princeps. Sere, syn we slew hym that clepid hym oure king,
And seyde he was Goddis sone Lord over alle;