The fyrst is prudence that is the chefe That hym doth rule and is his gyde And kepeth hym from grete reprefe And causeth his worshyp for to abyde So euery crysten man shold prouyde By his wit to withstand the deuyll That he consent not to do euyll The seconde is that he sholde be true To his souerayn lorde that on hym reyneth And all treason for euer to eschewe In whiche grete shame often remayneth And by whiche he hiz kỹge dysteyneth So a crysten man sholde be true euer To Ihesu Cryst that was his redemer The thyrde is that he sholde be lyberall Amonge his cõmons withouten lette That is the cause euer in generall That he the loue of theym doth gette For it causeth theyr hertes on hym be sette So euery true crysten man sholde be To god intended with lyberalyte The fourth is that he sholde be stronge His ryght euer for to defende And neuer to no man for to do wronge But wronges for to dyrecte and amende As ferre as his power wyll extende So a true crysten man sholde exclude All maner of vyces by his fortytude The fyfth is [that] he sholde be mercyable In all his dedes withouten furoure For that to hym is gretly conuenable And eke to kepe hym out of erroure For he of mercy sholde be a myrroure So vnto them it is ryght necessary Who that wyll be saued for to haue mercy The syxte is a knyght ought for to kepe The poore folke in theyr grete nede That often for hungre and thyrst do wepe He ought with almes theym for to fede And the better he shall than spede So euery true crysten man sholde do As ferre as his power cometh vnto I Sapyence am of the kynges counsayll Whiche is clothed with purple that sygnyfyeth The grace and the pulcrytude without fayll Of grete vertues that in hym shyneth For to no vyces he neuer enclyneth Hauynge in his hede a fayre crowne royall That sheweth his dygnyte to be regall Whiche to his people is the chefe glory Thrugh whome his subgectes be dyrecte And made obedyent to hym certaynly At euery houre by ryght true effecte But forthermore by good aspecte He bereth a ball in his lefte hande The whiche betokeneth as I vnderstande A kynge to be a good admynystratour Vnto his subgectes in euery place And to be for theym a good prouysour As reason requyreth in euery case I Sapyence do rule his noble grace In his ryght hand he hath a septure That doth sygnyfye by ryght his rygoure Yll men to punysshe for theyr offence By his ryghtwysnes whome the loue Of vertue shynynge in experyence Doth not extoll nor yet now remoue A lampe doth hange his heed aboue Alway lyght and clerely brennynge Whiche sygnyfyeth the mercy of a kynge The olde philosophers by theyr prudence Fonde the seuen scyences lyberall And by theyr exercyse & grete dylygence They made theyr dedes to be memoryall And also poetes that were fatall Craftely colored with clowdy fygures The true sentence of all theyr scryptures