I with the same ryght gretely infecte Lykely to deye tyll grace by medecyne Recured my sekenes my payne to abiecte Commaundynge me by her hye power deuyne To drawe this treatyse for to enlumyne The reders therof by penytencyall pyte And to pardon me of theyr benygnyte Ryght myghty prỹces of euery crysten regyõ I sende you gretynge moche hertly & grace Right wel to gouern vpright your dominiõ And all your lordes I greete in lyke cace By this my lettre your hertes to enbrace Besechynge you to prynte it in your mynde How for your sake I toke on me mankynde And as a lambe moost mekely dyde enclyne To suffre the dethe for your redempcyon And ye my kynges whiche do nowe domyne Ouer my comons in terrestryall mancyon By pryncely preemynence and Iuredyccyon In your regall courtes do suffre me be rente And my tender body with blode all besprente Without my grace ye maye nothynge preuayle Though ye be kynges for to mayntene your see To be a kynge it may nothynge auayle Buy yf my grace preserue his dygnyte Beholde your seruauntes how they do tere me By cruell othes now vpon euery syde Aboute the worlde launcynge my woundes wyde All the graces whiche I haue you shewed Reuoule in mynde ryght ofte ententyfly Beholde my body with blody droppes endewed Within your realmes nowe torne so pyteously Towsed and tugged with othes cruelly Some my heed some myn armes and face Some my herte do all to rente and race They newe agayne do hange me on the rode They tere my sydes and are nothynge dysmayde My woundes they open and deuoure my blode I god and man moost wofully arayde To you complayne it maye not be denayde Ye nowe do tug me / ye tere me at the roote Yet I to you am chefe refuyte and boote Wherfore ye kynges reygnynge in renowne Refourme your seruauntes in your courte abused To good example of euery maner towne So that theyr othes whiche they longe haue vsed On payne and punysshement be holly refused Meke as a Lambe I suffre theyr grete wronge I maye take vengeaunce thoughe I tary longe I do forbere I wolde haue you amende And graunte you mercy and ye wyll it take O my swete brederne why do ye offende Agayne to tere me whiche deyed for your sake Lo se my kyndenes and frome synne awake I dyde redeme you from the deuylles chayne And spyte of me ye wyll to hym agayne Made I not heuen the moost gloryous mansyon In whiche I wolde be gladde to haue you in Now come swete bretherne to myn habytacyon Alas good brederne with your mortall synne Why flee ye from me / to torne agayne begynne I wrought you I bought you ye can it not denye Yet to the deuyll ye go nowe wyllyngly [Decoration] [Illustration] See Me Be (kynde ¶ Agayne My payne Reteyne (in mynde ¶ My swete bloode On the roode Dyde the good (my broder ¶ My face ryght red Myn armes spred My woundes bled (thynke none oder