[Sidenote: Jonah awakes and finds his woodbine destroyed.] Þen wakened þe wyȝe of his wyl dremes, & blusched to his wodbynde þat broþely watȝ marred, [Sidenote: The leaves were all faded.] Al welwed & wasted þo worþelych leues; Þe schyre su{n}ne hade hem schent, er eu{er} þe schalk wyst, 476 [Sidenote: The sun beat upon the head of Jonah.] & þe{n} hef vp þe hete & het{er}ly bre{n}ned; Þe warm wynde of þe weste wert{es} he swyþeȝ. Þe man marred on þe molde þat moȝt hy{m} not hyde, His wodbynde watȝ away, he weped for sorȝe, 480 [Headnote: HE LAMENTS ITS DESTRUCTION.] [Sidenote: He is exceedingly angry, and prays God that he may die.] “With hatel ang{er} & hot, het{er}ly he calleȝ: A! þ{o}u maker of man, what mayst{er}y þe þynkeȝ Þ{us} þy freke to forfare forbi alle oþ{er}, W{i}t{h} alle meschef þat þ{o}u may, neu{er} þ{o}u me spareȝ? 484 I keu{er}ed me a cu{m}fort þat now is caȝt fro me, My wod-bynde so wlonk þat wered my heued, Bot now I se þ{o}u art sette my solace to reue; Why ne dyȝtteȝ þ{o}u me to diȝe; I dure to longe?” 488 [Sidenote: God rebukes the prophet.] Ȝet oure lorde to þe lede lansed a speche: [Sidenote: “Dost thou well,” He says, “to be angry for the gourd?”] “Is þis ryȝt-wys þ{o}u renk, alle þy ronk noyse, So wroth for a wodbynde to wax so sone, Why art þ{o}u so waymot wyȝe for so lyttel?” 492 [Sidenote: Jonah replies, “I would I were dead.”] “Hit is not lyttel,” q{uod} þe lede, “bot lykker to ryȝt, I wolde I were of þis worlde wrapped i{n} moldeȝ.” [Sidenote: God asks if it is to be wondered at that He should help His handy work.] “Þe{n}ne byþenk þe mon, if þe for-þynk sore, If I wolde help my honde werk, haf þ{o}u no wonder; 496 [Sidenote: Is not Jonah angry that his woodbine is destroyed, which cost him no labour?] Þ{o}u art waxen so wroth for þy wod-bynde, & trauayledeȝ neu{er} to tent hit þe tyme of an howre, [Sidenote: [Fol. 89a.]] Bot at a wap hit here wax & away at an oþ{er}, & ȝet lykeȝ þe so luþ{er}, þi lyf woldeȝ þ{o}u tyne; 500 [Sidenote: God is not to be blamed for taking pity upon people that He made.] Þe{n}ne wyte not me for þe werk þat I hit wolde help, & rwe on þo redles þat remen for sy{n}ne. Fyrst I made he{m} myself of mat{er}es my{n} one, & syþen I loked he{m} ful longe & hem on lode hade; 504 & if I my trauayl schulde tyne of t{er}mes so longe, [Sidenote: Should He destroy Nineveh the sorrow of such a sweet place would sink to His heart.] & type dou{n} ȝonder tou{n} when hit turned were, Þe sor of such a swete place burde synk to my hert, So mony malicio{us} mon as mo{ur}neȝ þ{er}-i{n}ne; 508 [Sidenote: In the city there are little bairns who have done no wrong.] & of þat sou{m}me ȝet arn su{m}me such sotteȝ for madde,