Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/47

 Now ȝe be ffrom ȝour ffayr lyffe, And are demyd for to deye. Unwys womman, sey me why, That thou hast don this fowle foly, And I made the a gret lady, In paradys for to pleye?

Eva. Lord! whan thou wentyst from this place, A werm with an aungelys face, He hyth us to be ful of grace, The frute yf that we ete. I dyd his byddyng, alas! alas! Now we be bowndyn in dethis las, I suppose it was Sathanas, To peyne he gan us pete.

Deus. Thou werm with thi wylys wyk, Thi fals fablis thei be ful thyk, Why hast thou put dethis pryk In Adam and his wyff? Thow thei bothyn my byddyng have brokyn, Out of whoo ȝet art not wrokyn, In helle logge thou xalt be loky[n], And nevyr mo lacche lyff.

Diabolus. I xal the sey whereffore and why I ded hem alle this velony, ffor I am ful of gret envy, Of wrethe and wyckyd hate. That man xulde leve above the sky, Where as sumtyme dwellyd I, And now I am cast to helle sty, Streyte out at hevyn gate.

Deus. Adam! ffor thou that appyl boot, Aȝens my byddyng, welle I woot,