ffrom alle synne clene, lyke as myn husbonde.
Take me the botel out of ȝour honde,
Here xal I drynke beforn ȝour face;
Abowth this awtere than xal I fonde,
Vij. tymes to go, by Godys grace.
Primus doctor legis. Se this bolde bysmare wolde presume,
Ageyn God to preve his myght!
Thow Goddys vengeauns hyre xuld consume,
Sche wyl not telle hyre fals delyght.
Thou art with chylde, we se in syght,