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.