Adam go forthe and be prynce in place, ffor to hefne I sped my way; Thi wyttys wel loke thou chase, And gostly governe the, as I say. II. THE FALL OF MAN. _Adam._ Holy ffadyr blyssyd thou be, ffor I may walke in welthe anow, I ffynde datys gret plenté, And many ffele frutes ful every bow; Alle this wele is ȝevyn to me, And to my wyf that on me lowh, I have no nede to towche ȝon tre, Aȝens my lordys wyl to werke now; I am a good gardenere; Every frute of ryche name, I may gaderyn with gle and game, To breke that bond I were to blame That my lord bad me kepyn here. _Eva._ We may bothe be blythe and glad, Oure lordys comaundement to fulfylle, With ffele frutys be we ffayr ffad, Woundyr dowcet and nevyr on ille. Every tre with frute is sprad, Of them to take as plesyth us tylle, Oure wytte were rakyl and ovyr don bad, To fforfete ageyns oure lordys wylle In ony wyse. In this gardeyn I wyl go se, Alle the ffloures of fayr bewté, And tastyn the frutes of gret plenté. That be in paradyse. _Serpens._ Heyl ffayr wyff and comely dame! This ffrute to ete I the cownselle, Take this appyl and ete this ssame, This ffrute is best as I the telle. _Eva._ That appyl to ete I were to blame, ffrom joy oure lorde wolde us expelle, We xuld dye and be put out with schame, In joye of paradyse nevyr more to duelle. God hymself thus sayde, What day of that frute we ete, With these wurdys God dyd us threte, That we xuld dye our lyff to lete, Therffore I am affrayde. _Serpens._ Of this appyl yf ȝe wyl byte, Evyn as God is, so xal ȝe be, Wys of connyng as I ȝow plyte, Lyke onto God in al degré. Sunne and mone and sterrys bryth, ffysche and foule, bothe sond and se, At ȝour byddyng bothe day and nyth, Alle thynge xal be in ȝowre powsté; ȝe xal be Goddys pere. Take this appyl in thin hond, And to byte therof thou ffond, Take another to thin husbond, Thereof have thou no dwere. _Eva._ So wys as God is in his gret mayn, And ffelaw in kunnyng ffayn wold I be. _Serpens._ Ete this appyl, and in certeyn That I am trewe, sone xalt thou se. _Eva._ To myn husbond with herte fful fayne, This appyl I bere, as thou byddyst me, This frute to ete I xal asayn, So wys as God is yf we may be, And Goddys pere of myth. To myn husbond I walke my way, And of this appyl I xal asay, To make hym to ete, yf that I may, And of this ffrewte to byth. _Hic Eva reveniet Adæ viro suo et dicet ei._