Of that grete synne that thou hast done

 Trust not to moche in fortunes grace

Though that she laugh on the a whyle

For she can sodenly turne her face

Whan that she lyst the to begyle

She welth and Ioye can sone defyle

And plonge the in the pyte of pouerte

Wherfore in her haue thou no suertye

 Presume no ferther than the behoueth

For it wyll turne the to grete shame

For who that from his rome remoueth

He is often full gretely to blame

And medeleth with other in theym lame

As no thynge connynge nor expert

They may hym say syr malapert

 Or that thou speke call to remembraunce

Vnto what mater thy worde shall sygnyfye

Loke that it torne no man to greuaunce

Though that it be spoken merely

Yet many a one wyll take it greuously

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