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 ffor fro ȝour felachep he xal not be erraunt, ȝow for to meve. To penauns and synne forsake, Shryfte of mowthe loke that ȝe make, And than the fende in helle so blake, He xal ȝow nevyr more greve.

A tre that is bareyn and wyl here no frute, The ownere wyl hewe it downe and cast it on the fyre; Ryght so it be man that folwyth the fowle sute Of the devyl of helle, and werkyth his desyre. God wyl be vengyd on man that is bothe dum and mute, That wyl nevyr be shrevyn, but evyr more doth delyre; Clothe the in clennes, with vertu be indute, And God with his grace he wyl the sone inspyre To amendynge of thi mys. Schryfte of mowthe may best the save, Penauns for synne what man wyl have, Whan that his body is leyd in grave, His sowle xal go to blys.

Corne that is good, men kepe it ful clene; Chaff that is sympyl is sett wul nere at nought. So good men of levynge to God chosyn bene, Whan synful men be lyke chaff and to helle xul be brought. Good penauns ȝow to preche ful hertyly do I mene, Shryfft and satysfaccion evyrmore to have in thought; What man in good penauns and schryfte of mowthe be sene, Of God he is welbelovyd, that alle this worlde hath wrought, And alle thinge of nowth dede make. Now have I tawght ȝow good penauns, God graunt ȝow grace, at his plesauns To have of synne delyverauns, ffor now my leve I take!