And wonne in mirthe euer more.
20. Sattan. Thy fadir knewe I wele be sight,
He was a write his mette to wynne, 230
And Marie me menys þi modir hight,
Þe vttiremeste ende of all þi kynne.
Who made þe be so mekill of myght?
Iesus. Þou wikid feende, latte be thy dynne!
Mi Fadir wonnys in heuen on hight, 235
With blisse þat schall neuere blynne.
I am His awne sone,