Oure wytte were rakyl and ovyr don bad,
To fforfete ageyns oure lordys wylle
In ony wyse.
In this gardeyn I wyl go se,
Alle the ffloures of fayr bewté,
And tastyn the frutes of gret plenté.
That be in paradyse.
Serpens. Heyl ffayr wyff and comely dame!
This ffrute to ete I the cownselle,
Take this appyl and ete this ssame,