Sathan. Out, out, harrow! alas! alas!
I woundyr sore what is he this?
I cannot brynge hym to no trespas,
Nere be no synne to don amys,
He byddyth me gon abakke!
What that he is I kannot se,
Whethyr God or man, what that he be
I kannot telle in no degré:
ffor sorwe I lete a crakke.
Hic venient angeli cantantes et ministrantes ei:—“Gloria tibi, Domine!” Dicens.