| | Kepe this child al be it foul or fair | |
| | And eke my wyf vnto myn hoom comynge | |
| | Crist whan hym list may make me an heir | |
| | More agreabyl than this to my likynge | |
| 670 | This lettir he selith pryuely wepynge | |
| | Whiche to the messanger was y take sone | |
| | And forth he goth there is nomore to doon | |
| | O messanger fulfillid with dronkenes | |
| | Straunge is thy breth thy lymys flateryn ay | |
| 675 | And thou bewreyest al secretnes | |
| | Thy mynde is lore thou iangesist as a Iay | |
| | Thy face is turned as in a newe aray | |
| | There dronkenesse reygneth in ony rowte | |
| | There is no counsel it is no doute | |
| 680 | O donegelde I haue non english digne | |
| | Vnto thy malice and thy tirannye | |
| | And therfore to the feend I the resigne | |
| | Lete hym endityn of his treytory | |
| | Fy mamysshe fy nay be god I ly | |
| 685 | Fy feendly spirit for I dar wel telle | |
| | Though thou here walke thy spirit is in helle | |
| | This messanger comyth fro the kyng agayn | |
| | And at the kyngis modris court he lighte | |
| | And she was of this messanger ful fayn | |
| 690 | And plesid hym in al that euer she myghte | |
| | He drank and wel his girdyl vnder pyghte | |
| | He slepith and he snortith in his gyse | |
| | Al nyght til the sonne gan aryse | |
| | Aftir were his lettres stolen euerichon | |
