The pope in his fury doth answer return,  
To a letter the which to Rome is late come,   

I Do esteem your kindness much  
For sending word so soon,  
Your diligence it hath been such  
It is arrived at Rome:  
But when I had perusd your bill  
In that you set thereto your will  
And eke your mind applied until  
The writing of the same.  
I did believe it to be true  
But surely I must say to you  
It grieved me those lines to view  
Were wrtten in your name.   

❧ And sure it is no marvel lo  
For daily I do hear,  
The matter seemeth to be so  
As amply doth appear:  
For every man doth tell for true  
The same that late was sent of you  
But out alas, your tidings new  
Doth much appall my spirit.  
And makes me swear and makes me tear  
To pull and hale, and rend my hear  
And brings me daily in despair  
To think on this despite.   

¶ But sith there is no remedy  
That mine obedient child,  
Is hanged up upon a tree  
And to to much revylde:  
What should I do but curse and ban  
And hurt them toe the worst I can  
For hanging up so good a man  
That bore me such good will?  
But if I had him here at Rome  
His body should be shrined soon  
And mass at morning and at noon  
With chanting of each bell.   

¶ For ever should be said and sung  
The devils to control,  
And prayers all about his tomb  
With senceing for his soul:  
That never a devil so deep in hell  
Should once presume with him to mell  
Nor once approach his body till  
To vex him any way.  
And I would keep his body so  
That it from hence should never go  
And divers of my friars more  
For him should daily pray.   

¶ And gladly would I be revenged  
On England if I might,  
Because they have toe much a abused  
My Bull with great despite:  
And make thereat a laughing game  
And set but little by my name  
And much my holiness defame  
And daily me despise.  
Their Queen hath chaste the rebels all  
That loved to bow their knees to Ball  
And hanged their quarters on the wall  
As meat for crows and pies.   

¶ But I will walk and daily seek  
My Purgatory thorough,  
And 'cause all the devils at my beck  
To me their knees to bow:  
And where as I may any find  
That to their Prince have been unkind  
Be sure, with me they shall be shrined  
As they deserved have.  
And chiefly now john Felton he  
Shall ever be beloved of me  
Because that he so lovingly  
My Bull did seem to save.   

¶ But if that I could have at once  
The paring of his toe,  
His head, his quarters, or his bones  
That with the wind do blow:  
Then should they be laid up by me  
As relics of great dignity  
For every man that comes to see  
Those jewels of such grace.  
The Nortons' bones should so be shrynd  
That now hangs wavering in the wind  
If that I could devise or find  
To bryug them to this place.   

¶ And I will curse and ban them all  
That speak against my power,  
And seeks to make my kingdom fall  
My curse shall them devour:  
And if that here I might you see  
For writing lately unto me  
Be sure, ye should rewarded be  
As best I could bethink.  
And as for William Elderton  
That lately sent me word to Rome  
Be sure that he should have like doom  
To buy him pen and ink.   

¶ Take this as written from our grace  
That unto you we sand,  
Because we want both time and place  
To recompense you friend:  
As for the boys that trump and scoff  
And at my holiness do laugh  
I mind to dress them well enough  
If case I had them here.  
And for my servants that abide  
And long have had their patience tried  
From Roman faith that will not slide  
I wish them all good there.   
S. P.  
¶ FINIS.   

¶ Imprinted by Alexander Lacie for Henry Kyrkham, dwelling at the sign of the black Boy, at the middle North door of Paul's church.