Chargeth this so soore,
Leve I nevere that oure Lord
Wol love that charité lakketh,
Ne have pité for any preiere
Ther that he pleyneth."
"I pose I hadde synned so,
And sholde now deye;
And now I am sory that I so
The Seint Spirit a-gulte,
Confesse me and crye his grace,