“My nobile leige!” goode CANYNGE sayde,
    “Leave justice to our Godde, 70
  And laye the yronne rule asyde;
    Be thyne the olyve rodde.”

  “Was Godde to serche our hertes and reines,
    The best were synners grete;
  CHRIST’S vycarr only knowes ne synne, 75
    Ynne alle thys mortall state.”

  “Lett mercie rule thyne infante reigne,
    ’Twylle faste thye crowne fulle sure;
  From race to race thy familie
    Alle sov’reigns shall endure.” 80

  “But yff wythe bloode and slaughter thou
    Beginne thy infante reigne,
  Thy crowne uponne thy childrennes brows
    Wylle never long remayne.”

  “CANYNGE, awaie! thys traytour vile 85
    Has scorn’d my power and mee;
  Howe canst thou thenne for such a manne
    Intreate my clemencye?”

  “My nobile leige! the trulie brave
    Wylle val’rous actions prize, 90
  Respect a brave and nobile mynde,
    Altho’ ynne enemies.”

  “CANYNGE, awaie!  By Godde ynne Heav’n
    Thatt dydd mee beinge gyve,
  I wylle nott taste a bitt of breade 95
    Whilst thys Syr CHARLES dothe lyve.”

  “By MARIE, and alle Seinctes ynne Heav’n,
    Thys sunne shall be hys laste.” 
  Thenne CANYNGE dropt a brinie teare,
    And from the presence paste. 100

  Wyth herte brymm-fulle of gnawynge grief,
    Hee to Syr CHARLES dydd goe,
  And satt hymm downe uponne a stoole,
    And teares beganne to flowe.

  “Wee all must die,” quod brave Syr CHARLES; 105
    “Whatte bootes ytte howe or whenne;
  Dethe ys the sure, the certaine fate
    Of all wee mortall menne.

  “Saye why, my friend, thie honest soul
    Runns overr att thyne eye; 110
  Is ytte for my most welcome doome
    Thatt thou dost child-lyke crye?”

  Quod godlie CANYNGE, “I doe weepe,
    Thatt thou so soone must dye,
  And leave thy sonnes and helpless wyfe; 115
    ’Tys thys thatt wettes myne eye.”

  “Thenne drie the tears thatt out thyne eye
    From godlie fountaines sprynge;
  Dethe I despise, and alle the power
    Of EDWARDE, traytor kynge. 120

  “Whan throgh the tyrant’s welcom means
    I shall resigne my lyfe,
  The Godde I serve wylle soone provyde
    For bothe mye sonnes and wyfe.

  “Before I sawe the lyghtsome sunne, 125
    Thys was appointed mee;
  Shall mortal manne repyne or grudge
    Whatt Godde ordeynes to bee?