Tron fro table to table and talkede ay myrþe.
Line 132
Bot as he ferked over þe flor, he fande wyth his yȝe—
Hit watz not for a halyday honestly arayed—
A þral þryȝt in þe þrong unþryvandely cloþed,
Ne no festival frok, bot fyled with werkkez;
Line 136
Þe gome watz ungarnyst wyth god men to dele.
And gremed þerwyth þe grete lord, and greve hym he þoȝt.
'Say me, frende,' quod þe freke wyth a felle chere,
'Hou wan þou into þis won in wedez so fowle?
Line 140
Þe abyt þat þou hatz upon, no halyday hit menskez;
Þou, burne, for no brydale art busked in wedez!
How watz þou hardy þis hous for þyn unhap [to] neȝe, [to supplied by M.]
In on so ratted a robe and rent at þe sydez?
Line 144
Þow art a gome ungoderly in þat goun febele; [folio 63a]
Þou praysed me and my place ful pover and ful [g]nede, [MS. nede; M. [g]nede.]
Þat watz so prest to aproche my presens hereinne.
Hopez þou I be a harlot þi erigaut to prayse?' [M. erigant.]
Line 148
Þat oþer burne watz abayst of his broþe wordez,
And hurkelez doun with his hede, þe urþe he biholdez;
He watz so scoumfit of his scylle, lest he skaþe hent,
Þat he ne wyst on worde what he warp schulde.
Line 152
Þen þe lorde wonder loude laled and cryed,
And talkez to his tormenttorez: 'Takez hym,' he biddez,
'Byndez byhynde, at his bak, boþe two his handez,
And felle fetterez to his fete festenez bylyve;
Line 156
Stik hym stifly in stokez, and stekez hym þerafter
Depe in my doungoun þer doel ever dwellez,
Greving and gretyng and gryspyng harde
