Hym þat is loþ, good to lere,
He shal, wheþer he wole or nylle.
Line 8
We fareþ as knaue þat takeþ his hyre byfore,
Serue his mayster wel þe worse þerfore.
Richesse and hele makeþ men vnkynde,
Þat goddis seruyce is out of mynde;
Line 12
For graceles and gostly blynde
Þe flesch distroyeþ soules store.
(2)
¶ God seiþ, "Man, y made þe of nouȝt,
And put the into paradys,
Line 16
Of erþely þynges þat y wrouȝt,
To neme þat neded to þyn eys.
I lent þe fre wil and þouȝt,
Warnyng of foly to be wys;
Line 20
At þe tre of wysdom, foly þou souȝt,
And ȝaf for an appyl þe most of prys.
Þe same mouþ þat þe appyl gnewe,
In þat mouþ þe holy croys grewe,
Line 24
Wheron y dyed for ȝoure gylt;
Þurgh þe herte and þurgh þe mylt
I hadde þe poynt, and ȝe þe hylt;
Ȝoure heritage y bouȝt ȝow newe.
Line 28
(3)
¶ Ȝe þouȝte ȝe had not ynow
Euere lastyng lyf and euere more rest;
Ȝe braken my byddyng, ȝe benden a bow,
Ȝe boten an appyl þat þirled my brest.
Line 32
Wiþ water, for synne þe world y slow,
Saue seuene, and noe þat was my gest.
My loue to man it was so tow,
Hit lasted forþ and nolde not brest.
Line 36
For mannys loue I come fro blisse to pyne.
Man was so pore, he had not to fyne.
Ȝoure gyltes greued god so sare,
Ȝoure gyltes on my bak y bare,
Line 40
Þat god my fader nolde me not spare
Tyl he had ȝeuen my lyf for þyne.
