_Iris._ Down to the dungeon where the devil dwelleth, Lucifer, that loathly lord, that is in bale blisses. There is woe upon woe, as Christ us telleth; All that may disease and nothing please, ever restless. There is frost, there is fire, Hope is lost and her desire; There care hath no recover; Without pity there is pain; To cry for mercy it is in vain, For grace is gone for ever. _Fumus tormentorum suorum_ _Ascendit in secula seculorum._ Lo! thus hath lost wedded confusion, Lucifer's daughter damnation In hell to have heritage. _Septum dominium peccati est mors._ _Eug._ In faith, that is a knavish way to walk. Now awhile of some mirth let us talk, For I forsake that passage. _Iris._ Now farewell, sir, and have good day, For I must go another way; Forget not my reasons sage! _Eug._ What! will ye go your way? B1,_r._ Ye have done a fair journey to-day. [_Iris._] It is time for to be walking, For I am weary of your talking. [_Exit._ [_Eug._] Lo! sirs, he spake full holily, But yet I beshrew him for all his clergy; He may well be called witless Sir Will, For I trow his brain is steadfast as a windmill. But now well remembered, by books Amromes [_Here again something appears to be missing._] I would have a plaster for all harms,-- Some fair wench to lie in mine arms; That would avoid all strifes. It were to me _administrate nos,_ _Et restaurate nos_, also _comfortate nos_. Yea, and sometime I will take men's wives; For cuckold-makers have merrier lives Than they that do all the cost As to wed at the church-door, and there to be sworn. Perhap her husband should have an horn; Then may he curse the time that ever he was born, For all the love is lost. Clerks say that of wedlock God that knot doth knit; And yet women do venture to break it. For though their souls should lie in hell pit, They will use that sorry work; And if they so die, Atropos cometh full suddenly, And or they beware, full slily He leadeth them all down in the dark. The courtesy of England is oft to kiss, And of itself it is lechery where pleasure is. All young folk remember this-- _Intentio judicat quenquam._ B1,_v._ So great delight thou mayst have therein That afore God it is deadly sin. But farewell! yonder cometh Sir William of Trentram. [_Exit._