| | He thonkid god and euyr his lyf in feer | |
| | Was he to do amys or more trespas | |
| | And er that he laid was on his beere | |
| | He knew that god was ful of myght & grace | |
| | H | Is sone whiche that highte Balttasar | |
| | That held the regne aftir his fadir day | |
| | He by his fader coude not bewaar | |
| | For proud he was of herte and of aray | |
| | And eke an ydolastir was he ay | |
| 190 | His high astat assuryd hym in pryde | |
| | But fortune cast hym doun and there he lay | |
| | And sodenly his regne gan diuide | |
| | A feste he made vnto his lordis alle | |
| | Vp on a tyme he made hem blithe be | |
| 195 | And thanne his officers gan he calle | |
| | Goth bryng forth the vesselis quod he | |
| | Whiche that my fadir in his prosperite | |
| | Out of the tempyl of Iherusalem beraft | |
| | And to our goddis thanke we | |
| 200 | Of honour that our eldrys with vs laft | |
| | His wif his lordis and his concubynys | |
| | Ay dronkyn whilis her appetitis last | |
| | Out of thyse nobil vesselis sondry wynes | |
| | And on a wal this kyng his yen cast | |
| 205 | And saw an hond armeles that wroot fast | |
| | For feer of whiche he quok and sighed sore | |
| | This hond that Baltasar made so sore agast | |
| | Wroot Mane . techel . phares and nomore | |
| | In al that lond magicien was ther non | |
