His last ende is had-y-wist,
When deþ haþ þy lyues kay.
"Litel while he mon be myst,"
So þe executours wol say.
Line 232
(30)
¶ They rekene his richesse what it amountes,
Ete and drynke, synge 'hay ȝol hayl,'
Þe while þe fendis his synnes countes,
And bryng to hym þe countertayl;
Line 236
Wiþ hard paynes hym assaile.
Wiþ berkande fendis brouȝt to bay,
What helpeþ his riches or wys counsaile?
Hym self his owen tale shal say.
Line 240
(31)
¶ God made oo lawe for eche astate,
Riche and pore in al degre:
Do no wrong ne [no] debate,
But as þou wolde men dede by þe.
Line 244
ffor god hym self, þis wrot he,
Betok to Moyses in his lay.
Be goddis childre in charyte,
As god doþ in the gospell say.
Line 248
V. Wyt & Wille.
[Digby 102, leaf 103, back.] [9 stanzas of 8, abab, bcbc.]
(1)
Man, be war of wikkid counsaile,
He wol the lede in wayes slidre;
In day of batayle he wol þe faile,
And make þi goode men to shidre.
Line 4
Riȝt as hay, þey mon widre;
As blades of gres, his seed doþ spille.
Gostly blynd goþ, and not neuere whidre,
Þat leueþ wit, and worchiþ by wille.
Line 8
