Ten hundred thousand stories tell I can Notáble of your untruth and brittleness. 2967 O Solomon, richest of all richéss, Full fill’d of sapience and worldly glory, Full worthy be thy wordës of memóry To every wight that wit and reason can. 2968 Thus praised he yet the bounté 2969 of man: ‘Among a thousand men yet found I one, But of all women found I never none.’ 2970 Thus said this king, that knew your wickedness; And Jesus, Filius Sirach, 2971 as I guess, He spake of you but seldom reverénce. A wildë fire and córrupt pestilence So fall upon your bodies yet tonight! Ne see ye not this honourable knight?