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Paul ſays, good brother, now ariſe,
And make an end of all this din;
And if ſo be you have the keys,
Open and let the carling in;

Th' apoſtle Peter roſe at laſt,
And to the gate with ſpeed he hies,
Carling, quoth he, knock not ſo faſt,
You cumber Mary with your cries.

Peter, ſhe ſaid, let Chriſt ariſe,
And grant me mercy in my need,
For why, I ne'er deny'd him thrice,
As thou thyſelf haſt done indeed.

Thou carling bold, what's that to thee,
I got remiſſion for my ſin;
It coſt many ſad tears to me,
Before I entered here within:
It will not be thy meikle din,
Will cauſe heav'n's gates opened be,
Thou muſt be purified from ſin,
And of all treſpaſſes made free.

Saint Peter then no thanks to you,
That ſo you were rid of your fears,
It was Chriſt's gracious look, I trow,
That made you weep thoſe precious tears,
The door of mercy is not clos'd,
may get grace as well as ye,
It is not ſo as ye ſuppos'd,
I will be in, in ſpite of thee.

But, wicked wife, it is too late,
Thou ſhould't have mourned upon earth,
Repentance now is out of date;
it ſhould have been before thy death: