Quomodo s. Andreas vicit diabolum.
A nobil bisschop, als we rede,
In halines his life gun lede.
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He lufed saint Andrew al his life
And euer he vsid þis reson rife:
In al þe dedis þat he su(l)d do,
Þus said he, when he went þarto:
"Þis werk here I bigyn to schew
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In þe name of god and saint Andrew".
Þus vsid he euir in all hys dede:
So hopid he his werk suld wele spede —
In saint Andrew he had swilk trist;
And of þat merk no-thing he myst.
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Bot þan þe fende, oure enmy,
Vnto þat bisschop had grete enuy;
For he to god hys hert had sett,
He did his force þat life lett:
He assayd him with moni a syn.
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Bot on none wise he might him wyn.
Til al þe last he wroght a wile
With lusty luf hym to bigyle.
To ger hym fall in foul lichery,
He schop hym to be like a fayre lady,
Line 300
Vnto þe bisschops palays hastid he
And said þat he wold schriuen be.
Þe bisschoppes menȝe gun him tell
How þore was cumen a damysell,
Þe fairest þat þai bifore had sene,
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And said scho wold be schreuen clene.
When þe bisschop þis tale had herd,
Vnto þo men þus he answerd:
"Gose, ledes hir to mi penitancere!
For of me has he playn powere".
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Bot when þe ladi herd þis tale,
Scho sayd: "for suth, I neuer sale
Reherce how þat I am gylty
Bot to þe bisschoppes awyn body;
I haue in hert swilk priuete:
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I will none wit bot god and he".
Þus when þe bisschop wist hir will,
He bad scho suld be broght him till.
Þai broght hir furth þan him bifore.
And ful mekely, when scho com þore,
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Doun scho knelid bifor his kne
And sayd: "lord, haue mercy on me
And here my tales all vntil ende!"
He wist noght þat it was þe fende,
"Tel on, he sayd, my doghter dere,
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Þi hert all halely vnto me now here!
I sall þe here euer-ilka thing
And counsayl þe efter my cunyng".
"Sir, scho sayd, all-if ȝe now se
I am pouer and in pilgrym degre,
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Cumen I am of kyng and quene
And in grete bewtes haue I bene
And fosterd furth full tendirly —
Of tender eld als ȝit am I.
Bot neuer-þe-lese in all mi ȝowth
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Ay wirschip Crist ful wele I kouth.
And when I past out of barnhede,
Þe king, my fader, gun me bede
Þat a riche prince suld me wed.
And þan I was full sore adred
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Þat my lord Crist suld be euyl payd,
And vnto my fader þus I sayd:
Þat erthli husband wald I none,
For vnto Crist I had me tone,
'Vnto him haue I hertly hight
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To kepe me clene both day & night;
Þarfore none oþer may I take,
For his lufe sal I neuer forsake'".
When mi fader herd me so say,
Ful wroth he went fro me oway,
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He said I suld wirk at his will
Or els be puted vnto paynes ill.
Þan in my hert I toke þis thoght:
Þat leuyr me war in bale be broght,
In wildernes al-way to wake,
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Þan Crist, my spous, forto forsake.
Oway I went þan so priuely,
Þat no-man wist bot god and I.
Sethin, haly fader, suth it es,
I haue herd of youre halines,
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How ȝe er blith, and euir has bene,
To confort þam þat kepis þam clene.
Þarfore I thoght: and I might wyn
Vnder ȝoure ward and wun þarin,
Þan suld I liff in rest and ese,
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With gude prayers my god to plese,
And so forsake þis werldely liue
And lere condicions contemplatiue".
When þe bisschop herd þir wordes wise,
