With the leste teer wepynge owte of ȝour ey.
My ffadyr me sent the, man, to bye,
Alle thi raunsom mysylfe must pay;
ffor love of the mysylfe wyl dye,
Iff thou aske mercy, I sey nevyr nay.
Into the erthe ffrom hevyn above,
Thi sorwe to sese and joy to restore,
Man, I cam down, alle ffor thi love, —
Love me ageyn, I aske no more!
Thow thou myshappe and synne ful sore,