To his neighebores hosbonderye
And wolde, his lond were vntyled
And his houses vnhiled,
For as myche as he wolde beo
Holden better hosebond þan he,
Or if he wolde for enuie
Seon his neighbore sone die
Þan were in manhode arise [So im Ms.]
And better auaunced þan hise.
Or if he wolde for enuie
Putte a man out of baillie,
To make him worse, þan he were,
And putte an oþer man þere —
In suche enuie who so is,
It is dedly sinne ywis.
Nou haue ȝe herd of enuie,
Of coueitise and glotonye,
Of pride and of lecherie —
Here is a foul compaignye,
When alle beon ybrought in fere;
Of angur and ire ȝe shol here
Þat beoþ sibbe to þese fiue,
And alle beon shrewes, so mot I thriue.
Angur and ire þat man is inne
Is þe fifte dedly synne.
Bot þei man beo of heye blod
And wole gladly chānge mod
And nile his neighebour bot god,
Bot þoruh heynesse of blod,
And chit his meyne and his childre,
Boþe þe ȝonger and þe eldre —
Suche angur and ire, as þat is,
Nis no dedly synne ywis.
Or if a man is feble of wit
And wiþ his neighbore chit,
Forto abate his heye mod,
And nile his neighbore bot god,
Þat chyt for his feble brayn
