Ded here I synke down as man that is sclayn!
Lameth. Alas! what xal I do? wrecche, wykkyd on woolde,
God wyl be vengyd ful sadly on me;
ffor deth of Caym I xal have vij. folde
More peyn than he had that Abelle dede sle.
These to mennys deth fulle sore bought xal be,
Upon alle my blood God wylle venge this dede,
Wherefore sore wepyng hens wyl I fle,
And loke where I may best my hede sone heyde.
Hic recedat Lameth et statim intrat Noe cum navi cantantes,