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 Upbraid me then goodwife, no more,

For, firſt when I heard of thy name,

I knew thou hadſt ſuch words in ſtore

Would make the devil to think ſhame.

Forſooth Sir Thief you are to blame,

If I had time now to abide,

Once you were well but may think ſhame,

That loſt heaven for rebellious pride;

Who traitor-like fell with the reſt

Becauſe you would not be content,

And now of bliſs you're deſpoſſeſt,

Without all grace for to repent,

Thou madſt poor Eve long ſince conſent,

To enteat [sic] of the forbidden tree;

(Which we her daughters may repent,)

And made us almoſt like to thee;

But God be bleſt who paſs'd the by.

And did a Saviour provide:

For Adam's whole poſterity.

To all who do in him confide.

Adieu, falſe fiend I may not bide,

With thee I may no longer ſtay,

My God in death he was my guide

O er hell I'll get the victory.

Then up the hill the poor wife went,

O preſt with ſtinking flames and fear,

Weeping right ſore with great relent,

For o go elſe ſhe wiſt not where:

A narrow way with thorns and briars,

And full of mire was her before:

She ſighed oft with ſobs and tears,

The poor wife s heart was wondrous ſore;