t thay ar untrewe,
Unto my dome[586] I shalle theym draw,
And juge thaym wars[587] then any Jew.
And thay that lyst to lere my law and lyf therby
Shalle never have harmes here, bot welth as is worthy.

_Sathanas._ Now here my hand, I hold me payde,
Thise poyntes ar playnly for my prow,[588]
If this be trew as thou has saide
We shalle have mo then we have now;

Thise lawes that thou has late here laide
I shalle thym lere not to alow,[589]
If thay myn take[590] thay ar betraide,
And I shalle turne thym tytte I trow.[591]

I shalle walk eest, I shalle walk west,
And gar theym wyrk welle war.[592]

_Jesus._ Nay feynde, thou shalbe feste,[593]
That thou shalle flyt no far.[594]

_Sathanas._ Feste? fy! that were a wykyd treson!
Belamy, thou shalle be smytt.[595]

_Jesus._ Deville, I commaunde the to go downe
Into thi sete where thou shalle syt.

_Sathanas._ Alas! for doylle[596] and care,
I synk into helle pyt.

_Rybald._ Sir Sathanas, so saide I are,[597]
Now shalle thou have a fytt.

_Jesus._ Com now furthe, my childer alle,
I forgyf you youre mys;[598]
Withe me now go ye shalle
To joy and endles blys.

_Adam._ Lord, thou art fulle mekylle of myght,[599]
That mekys thi self on this manere,
To help us alle as thou had us hight,
When bothe frofett I and my fere;[600]

Here have we dwelt withoutten light
Four thousand and six hundreth yere,
Now se we by this solempne sight
How that mercy makes us dere.

_Eva._ Lord, we were worthy more tornamentes[601] to tast,[602]
Thou help us lord of thy mercy, as thou of myght is mast.[603]

_Johannes._ Lord, I love the inwardly,
That me wold make thi messyngere,
Thi commyng in erthe to cry,
And teche thi fayth to folk in fere;[604]

Sythen before the forto dy,[605]
To bryng theym bodword[606] that be here,
How thay shuld have thi help in hy,
Now se I alle those poyntes appere.

_Moyses._ David, thi prophette trew,
Of tymes told unto us;
Of thi commyng he knew,
And saide it shuld be thus.

_David._ As I said ere yit say I so,
_Ne derelinquas, domine,
Animam meam in inferno_;[607]
Leyfe never my saulle, Lord, after the,

In depe helle whedur[608] dampned shalle go
Suffre thou never thi sayntes to se
The sorrow of thaym that won in wo,[609]
Ay, fulle of fylthe, and may not fle.[610]

_Moyses._ Make myrthe bothe more and les,
And love oure lord we may,
That has broght us fro bytternes
In blys to abyde for ay.

_Ysaias._ Therfor now let us syng
To