Unbraid me then, goodwife, no more,
For first when I heard of my name,
I know thou hadst such words in store,
Would make the devil to think shame
Forsooth, Sir Thief you are to blame,
If I had time now to abide.
Once you were well, but my think shame,
That lost heaven for rebellious pride:
Who, traiter like, fell with the rest,
Because you would not be contnt;
Bnd now of bliss are dispossest,
Without all grace for to repent;
Thou mad'st poor Eve long since consent
Toest of the forbeden tree;
When we her daughters, may repent)
(And make us always like to thee;
But God be blest, who pass'd thee by,
And did a Saviour provide
For Adam's whole posterity,
All those who do in him conside.
Adieu false fiend, I may nat longer stay,
With thee I may not longer stay,
My God in death he is my guide,
O'er hell I'll get the victory
Then up the hill the poor wife went,
Opprest with stinking flames and fear,
Weeping right fore with great relent,
For to go else she wist not where
A narrow road with thorns and briars,
And full of mires was her before;
She sighed oft with sobs and tears,
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