"Ye maisters that usen bloud-letting, And therewith getten your living; Here may you learn wisdome good, In what place ye shall let bloud. For man, in woman, or in child, For evils that he wood and wild. There beene veynes thirty-and-two, For wile is many, that must he undo. Sixteene in the head full right, And sixteene beneath I you plight. In what place they shall be found, I shall you tell in what stound. Beside the eares there beene two, That on a child mote beene undoe; To keep his head from evil turning And from the scale withouten letting. And two at the temples must bleede, For stopping and aking I reede; And one is in the mid forehead, For Lepry or for sawcefleme that mote bleede. Above the nose forsooth is one, That for the frensie mote be undone. Also when the eien been sore, For the red gowt evermore. And two other be at the eien end. If thy bleeden them to amend. And the arch that comes thorow smoking, I you tell withouten leasing. And at the whole of the throat, there beene two, That Lepry and straight breath will undoo. In the lips foure there beene, Able to bleede I tell it be deene, Two beneath, and above also I tell thee there beene two. For soreness of the mouth to bleede, When it is flawne as I thee reede. And two in the tongue withouten lie, Mote bleede for the quinancie. And when the tongue is aught aking, For all manner of swelling. Now have I tolde of certaine, That longer for the head I weene, And of as many I will say, That else where there beene in fay. In every arme there beene fife, Full good to blede for man and wife, _Cephalica_ is one I wis, The head veyne he cleaped is, The body above and the head; He cleanseth for evil and qued. In the bought of the arme also, An order there must he undoo; Basilica his name is, Lowest he sitteth there y wis; Forsooth he cleanseth the liver aright, And all other members beneath I twight. The middle is between the two, Corall he is clipped also That veine cleanseth withouten doubt; Above and beneath, within and without. For Basilica that I of told, One braunched veine ety up full bold, To the thomb goeth that one braunch; The cardiacle he wil staunch, That there braunch full right goeth, To the little finger withouten oth; _Saluatell_ is his name, He is a veine of noble fame; There is no veine that cleanseth so clene, The stopping of the liver and splene. Above the knuckles of the feet, With two veines may thou meet, Within sitteth _Domestica_, And without _Saluatica_. . . . . . All the veines thee have I told, That cleanseth man both yong and old. If thou use them at thy need, These foresaid evils they dare not dread;