6
We should not care for washing then,
Into these flames and filthy stink,
We burn with fire unto the doom:
Upbraid me then, good wife, no more,
For first when I heard of the name,
I knew thou hast such names in store,
Would make the devil to think shame.
Forsooth, Sir thief, thou art to blame,
If I had time now for to bide.
Once you were well, but may think shame,
That lost heaven for rebellious pride,
Who traitor-like fell with the rest,
Because you would not be content,
And now of bliss are dispossest,
Withont all grace for to repent,
Thou mad'st poor Eve for to consent
To eat of the forbidden tree;
Which we poor daughters may relent
And made us almost like to thee;
But God be blest who passed thee by.
And did a Saviour provide,
For Adam's whole posterity,
All those who do in him confide.
Adieu, false fiend, I may not bide,
With thee I may no longer stay;
My God in death he was my guide,
O'er hell I'll get the victory.
