Play 7
Angel
That lord of lyffe lele ay-lastand
Line 1
Whos myght vnmesured is to meyne,
He shoppe the sonne, bothe see and sande,
And wroughte this worlde with worde, I wene.
His aungell cleere as cristall clene,
Here vnto you thus am I sente
THis tide.
Abell and Cayme, yei, both bydeyne
To me enteerly takis entent;
To meve my message haue I ment
If that ye bide.
Allemyghty God of myghtes moste,
When he had wrought this world so wide,
No thynge hym thoughte was wroughte in waste,
But in his blissyng boune to bide
Neyne ordurs for to telle, that tyde,
Of aungeles bryght he bad ther be.
For pride
And sone the tente part it was tried,
And wente awaye as was worthye;
They heild to helle alle that meyné
THerin to bide.
THanne made he manne to his liknes
That place of price for to restore,
And sithen he kyd hym such kyndnes
Somwhat wille he wirke therfore:
The tente to tyne he askis, no more,
Of alle the goodes he haues you sent.
Full trew
To offyr loke that ye be yore,
And to my tale yhe take entent,
For ilke a lede that liffe has lente
So shalle you sewe.