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Abundance, and I lead my life

In ease, all undisturbed by strife,

Thanks to the easy prelates who

Fear to say aught whate’er I do.

Not one of them dares make essay

Against me, or he’d roundly pay.

And thus I live as pleaseth me

By fraud, deceit, and trickery.

Though all should once a year at least

Confession make before a priest,

As Scripture saith, that they may have

A houseling good their souls to save,

(For this our lord the Pope decrees)

We shelve the statute as we please.

To penitents we give advice,

But claim exemptions which suffice,

For many a privilege have we,

Which cause our burdens light to be.

On this point we nought silent are,

But vaunt our dispensations far

Beyond the Pope’s decree; so may

Unto his priest each sinner say:

Father, I lately have confessed

To such an one, and he my breast

Hath clean absolved from every sin

That might the wrath of heaven win,

My conscience suffers no such pain

As pricks me to confess again.

Herein, I pray you, make me quit,

Nor further hold discourse of it,