And ffourty nyghtes, bothe more and lesse,
Withowtyn bodyly ffode ther to abyde;
ffor man thus do I swynke.
Into deserte I passe my way,
ffor mannys sake, as I ȝow say,
XL.ᵗⁱ nyghtes and xl.ᵗⁱ day,
I xal nowther ete nor drynke.
Johan Baptyst. In place where I passe wyttnes I bere,
The trewthe xal I telle wheresoevyr I go,
That Cryst, the Sone of God, is become oure fere,