Þay han lerned a lyst þat lykez me ille,
Þat þay han founden in her flesch of fautez þe werst:
Uch male matz his mach a man as hymselven,
And fylter folyly in fere on femmalez wyse.
Line 696
I compast hem a kynde crafte and kende hit hem derne,
And amed hit in myn ordenaunce oddely dere,
And dyȝt drwry þerinne, doole alþerswettest,
And þe play of paramorez I portrayed myselven;
Line 700
And made þerto a maner myriest of oþer,
When two true togeder had tyȝed hemselven,
Bytwene a male and his make such merþe schulde co[m]e, [MS., M. conne; M. note come(?).]
Wel nyȝe pure paradys moȝt preve no better,
Line 704
Ellez þay moȝt honestly ayþer oþer welde;
At a stylle stollen steven, unstered wyth syȝt,
Luf-lowe hem bytwene lasched so hote,
Þat alle þe meschefez on mold moȝt hit not sleke.
Line 708
Now haf þay skyfted my skyl and scorned natwre,
And henttez hem in heþyng an usage unclene.
Hem to smyte for þat smod smartly I þenk,
Þat wyȝez schal be by hem war, worlde wythouten ende.'
Line 712
Þenne arȝed Abraham, and alle his mod chaunge[d] [MS. chaunge, M. chaunge[d].]
For hope of þe harde hate þat hyȝt hatz oure Lorde.
Al sykande he sayde: 'Sir, wyth yor leve, [sir abbrev., as also at 900, 1622, M. 1 syre, M. 2 sir; apparently the only instance of expansion in the MS. is Gaw. 387, where Gollancz prints Sir.]
Schal synful and saklez suffer al on payne?
Line 716
Weþer ever hit lyke my Lorde to lyfte such domez,
Þat þe wykked and þe worþy schal on wrake suffer,
And weye upon þe worre half þat wrathed þe never?
Þat watz never þy won þat wroȝtez uus alle.
Line 720
