tyll I make thyne enemyes thy fote stole.
Moreouer those myne enemyes which woulde not that I should raigne ouer them, brynge hyther, and slea them before me.
A Psalme of Dauyd. The Lorde sayde vnto my Lord: Syt thou on my ryght hande, vntyll I make thyne enemies thy fotestole.
They that dwell in the wyldernes shall knele before him, & his enemyes shal licke the dust.
Seynge Dauid called hym Lorde: howe is he then hys sonne?
