For his mercy is more than all our mysery
And eke aboue his werkes all
As Dauyd sheweth in his prophecy
Saynge his mercy is ouer all
To whom I pray euer in especyall
To gyue me grace well my penne to lede
That quaketh aye for drede

Dame Sapyence sayd I do procede
Of the strength of the holy ghoost
That is and shall be mater in dede
God and lorde of myghtys moost
Whose infynall power was neuer lost
And yet neuer had no begynnynge
But alway lyke stronge without endynge

Where that dame hardynes in her pledynge
Made her selfe to knyghtes moost necessary
By the meanes of her power shewynge
That I by ryght do now well deny
For in that case she dyd moche vary
For syxe there are that more profyte be
Of whiche the lest is better than she

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 k[yn]ge 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 c[om]mons 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 fay