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we would 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 thy name,
I know thou had 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 may think ſhame,
That loſt Heaven for rebellious pride,
Who traitor like fell with the reſt,
becauſe thou would not be content,
And now of bliſs are diſpoſeſt,
without all grace for to repent;
Thou mad'ſt poor mother Eve conſent,
to eat of the forbidden tree,
Which we poor daughters may repent,
and makes us almoſt like to thee;
But GOD be bleſt who paſt 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.
Then up the hill the poor wife went,
oppreſt with ſtinking flames of fear,
Weeping right ſore with great relent,
for to go elſe ſhe wiſt not where;
A narrow way with thorns and briers,
and full of mires were her before;
She ſighed oft with ſobs and tears,
the poor wife's heart was wondrous ſore:
Tir'd and torn ſhe went on ſtill,
ſometimes ſhe ſat, and ſometimes fell,
Ay till ſhe came to a high hill,
and then ſhe looked back to hell;
