A! quod Jeremye, who xal gyff wellys to myn eynes, That I may wepe bothe day and nyght? To se oure bretheryn in so longe peynes, Here myschevys amende may thi meche myght. As grett as the se, Lord, was Adamys contryssyon ryght, ffrom oure hed is ffalle the crowne, Man is comeryd in synne, I crye to thi syght, Gracyous Lord! Gracyous Lord! Gracyous Lord, come downe! _Virtutes._ Lord! plesyth it thin hiȝ domynacion, On man that thou made to have pyté, Patryarchys and prophetys han mad supplycacion, Oure offyse is to presente here prayeres to the. Aungelys, archaungelys, we thre That ben in the fyrst ierarchie, ffor man to thin hy magesté, Mercy! mercy! mercy! we crye. The aungel, Lord, thou made so gloryous, Whos synne hath mad hym a devyl in helle, He mevyd man to be so contraryous, Man repentyd, and he in his obstynacye doth dwelle. Hese grete males, good Lord, repelle, And take man onto thi grace, Lete thi mercy, make hym with aungelys dwelle, Of Locyfere to restore the place. _Pater._ Propter miseriam inopum, et gemitum pauperum nunc exurgam. ffor the wretchydnes of the nedy, And the porys lamentacion, Now xal I ryse that am Almyghty, Tyme is come of reconsyliacion, My prophetys with prayers have made supplicacion, My contryte creaturys crye alle for comforte, Alle myn aungellys in hefne, withowte cessacion, They crye that grace to man myght exorte. _Veritas._ Lord, I am thi dowtere, Trewthe, Thou wilt se I be not lore, Thyn unkynde creatures to save were rewthe, The offens of man hath grevyd the sore. Whan Adam had synnyd, thou seydest yore, That he xulde deye and go to helle, And now to blysse hym to restore, Twey contraryes mow not togedyr dwelle. Thy trewthe, Lord, xal leste withowtyn ende, I may in no wyse ffro the go, That wrecche that was to the so unkende, He may not have to meche wo. He dyspysyd the and plesyd thi ffo, Thou art his creatour and he is thi creature, Thou hast lovyd trewthe, it is seyd evyr mo, Therfore in peynes lete hym evyrmore endure. _Misericordia._ O ffadyr of mercye and God of comforte, That counselle us in eche trybulacion, Lete ȝour dowtere Mercy to ȝow resorte, And on man that is myschevyd have compassyon. Hym grevyth fful gretly his transgressyon, Alle hefne and erthe crye ffor mercy, Me semyth ther xuld be non excepcion, Ther prayers ben offeryd so specyally. Threwthe sseyth she hath evyr be than, I graunt it wel she hath be so, And thou seyst endlesly that mercy thou hast kept ffor man, Than mercyabyl lorde, kepe us bothe to, Thu seyst _veritas mea et misericordia mea cum ipso_, Suffyr not thi sowlys than in sorwe to slepe, That helle hownde that hatyth the byddyth hym ho, Thi love man no lengere lete hym kepe.