And loveth hem to huyre.
Thuse solaceth the soule,
Til hymself be falle
In a wele good hope, for he wroghte so,
Among worthy seyntes,
Ther flaterers and foles
Whith here foule wordes
Leden tho that lithen hem
To Luciferes feste,
With Turpiloquio, a lay of sorwe,