Here paynes shalle never blyn[428] That wykyd ar and felle, Love, that lord, withe wyn His lyfe for us wold selle. [_Et cantent omnes "Salvator mundi" primum versum._[429] Adam, thou welle understand, I am Isaias, so Crist me kende,[430] I spake of folk in darknes walkand,[431] I saide a light shuld on them lende; This light is alle from Crist commande, That he tille us has hethir sende, Thus is my poynt proved in hand, As I before to fold[432] it kende. _Simeon._ So may I telle of farlys feylle,[433] For in the tempylle his freyndes me fande, Me thoght dayntethe[434] with hym to deylle, I halsyd[435] hym homely with my hand, I saide, Lord, let thi servandes leylle[436] Pas in peasse to lyf lastande,[437] Now that myn eeyn has sene thyn hele[438] No longer lyst[439] I lyf in lande. This light thou has purvayde For theym that lyf in lede,[440] That I before of the have saide I se it is fulfillyd in dede. _Johannes Baptista._ As a voice cryand I kend[441] The wayes of Crist, as I welle can, I baptisid hym with bothe myn hende In the water of flume[442] Jordan; The Holy Gost from heven discende As a white dowfe downe on me than, The Fader voyce, oure myrthes to amende, Was made to me lyke as a man;[443] "Yond is my son," he saide, "And whiche pleasses me fulle welle," His light is on us layde, And commys oure karys to kele.[444] _Moyses._ Now this same nyght lernyng have I, To me, Moyses, he shewid his myght, And also to another one, Hely,[445] Where we stud on a hille on hyght, As whyte as snaw was his body, His face was like the son for bright, No man on mold[446] was so mighty Grathly[447] durst loke agans[448] that light, And that same lighte here se I now Shynyng on us, certayn, Wherethrughe truly I trow That we shalle sone pas fro this payn. _Rybald._ Sen fyrst that helle was mayde and I was put therin Siche sorow never ere I had, nor hard I siche a dyn,[449] My hart begynnys to brade,[450] my wytt waxys thyn,[451] I drede we can not be glad, thise saules mon fro us twyn;[452] How, Belsabub! bynde thise boys, siche "Harow"[453] was never hard in helle. _Belzabub._ Out, Rybald! thou rorest what is betyd? can thou oght telle? _Rybald._ Whi, herys[454] thou not this ugly noyse? Thise lurdans[455] that in lymbo dwelle, They make menyng[456] of many joyse, And muster myrthes theym emelle.[457] _Belzabub._ Myrth? nay, nay! that poynt is past, More hope of helthe shalle they never have. _Rybald._ They cry on Crist fulle fast, And says he shalle thaym save. _Belzabub._ Yee, though he do not, I shalle, For thay ar sparyd[458] in specyalle space, Whils I am prynce and pryncypalle, Thay shalle never pas out of this place; Calle up Astarot[459] and Anaballe, To gyf us counselle in this case; Belle, Berith and Bellyalle[460] To mar theym that siche mastry mase;[461] Say to sir Satan oure syre, And byd hym bryng also Sir Lucyfer lufly of lyre.[462] _Rybald._ Alle redy, lord, I go.