Of wrethe and wyckyd hate.
That man xulde leve above the sky,
Where as sumtyme dwellyd I,
And now I am cast to helle sty,
Streyte out at hevyn gate.
Deus. Adam! ffor thou that appyl boot,
Aȝens my byddyng, welle I woot,
Go teyl thi mete with swynk and swoot,
Into thi lyvys ende.
Goo nakyd, ungry, and bare ffoot,