Maisters, trow ye that this be scorne[506].
Cum win this pardoun, cum.
Quha luifis thair wyfis nocht with thair hart,
I have power thame for till part.
Me-think yow deif and dum:
Hes nane of yow curst wickit wyfis
That haldis yow intill sturt[507] and stryfis,
Cum tak my dispensatioun;
Of that cummer[508] I sall mak yow quyte,
Howbeit your-selfis be in the wyte[509],