( 5 )
Sir thief, I say, I shall bide out,
But gossip thou wait ne'er to me:
For to come in, I'm not so stout:
And of my biting thou'll be free,
But, Lucifer, what's that on thee,
Hast thou no water in this place?
Thou look'st so black, it seems to me
Thou ne'er dost wash thy ugly face.
If we had water for to drink,
We should not care for washing then:
Into these flames and filthy stink,
We burn with fire unto the doom:
Upbraid me then, goodwife, no more,
For first when I heard of the name,
I knew thou hast such words 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,
Without 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 as 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.
