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 Petrus. The ȝatys of hevyn I opyn this tyde: Now welcome, dere bretheryn, to hevyn i-wys; Com on, and sytt on Goddys ryght syde, Where myrthe and melody nevyr may mys. Omnes Salvati. On kne we crepe, we gon, we glyde, To wurchepp oure Lorde that mercyful is; ffor thorwe his woundys that be so wyde, He hath brought us to his blys. Holy Lorde, we wurcheppe the! Deus. Welcome ȝe be in hevyn to sitt, Welcum, fro me xul ȝe nevyr flitt, So sekyr of blys ȝe xul be ȝitt, To myrthe and joye welcum ȝe be! Animæ dampnandum. Ha! ha! mercy, mercy, we crye and crave, A! mercy, Lorde, for oure mysdede! A! mercy, mercy, we rubbe! we rave! A! help us, good Lord, in this nede! Deus. How wolde ȝe, wrecchis, any mercy have? Why aske ȝe mercy now in this nede? What have ȝe wrought ȝour sowle to save? To whom have ȝe don any mercyful dede, Mercy for to wynne? Primus diabolus. Mercy? nay, nay, they xul have wrake, And that on here fforehed wyttnes I take, ffor ther is wretyn with letteris blake, Opynly alle here synne. Deus. To hungry and thrusty that askyd in my name, Mete and drynke wolde ȝe ȝeve non; Of nakyd men had ȝe no shame, ȝe wold nott vesyte men in no preson; ȝe had no peté on seke nor lame, Dede of mercy wold ȝe nevyr don; Un herborwed men ȝe servyd the same, To bery the deed pore man wold ȝe not gon;