Icholde þe ful wilde & wod,
Ȝef þou lesest so muche god,
And ȝeuest hit for noht.
Line 66
Mon, be war & eke wis
Ȝef þou fallest, sone a-rys,
Ne by þou none stounde;
Line 69
Wiþ al þi myhte þou do þis,
Þy soule sihþ, & soþ hit ys
Blysse ichaue y-founde.
Line 72
Mon, þou hauest wicked fon,
Þe alre-worst is þat on (!),
Here nomes y shal telle;
Line 75
Þyn oune fleysh þy worst is fend (!);
Þat best shulde be þy frend,
Þat most doþ þe to quelle.
Line 78
Þou cloþest him in feir[e] shroud,
Ant makest þy fomon fat & proud,
Ȝef y durste seyn;
Line 81
Þou dest þy-selue muche wrong,
Þou makest him bo fat & strong,
To fyhte þe aȝeyn.
Line 84
