Eva. Alas! that evyr that speche was spokyn,
That the fals aungel seyd onto me,
Alas! oure makers byddyng is brokyn,
ffor I have towchyd his owyn dere tre.
Oure fflescly eyn byn al unlokyn,
Nakyd for synne ouresylf we se,
That sory appyl that we han sokyn,
To dethe hathe brouth my spouse and me,
Ryth grevous is oure synne.
Of mekyl shame now do we knowe,