Iris. Eugenio, I trow; the same!
Eug. A, sir; the devil strike off thy head!
Whoreson, who taught thee so right to read?
I trow some evil spirit be within thee.
[The continuation seems imperfect.]
Iris. In the city of Jerusalem, that is so called.
I fear thou wilt never come to that holy Sion
That with twelve precious stones is surely walled.
Full strait is the way thither to gone,
And into that castle entering is none
Without thou acquaint thee with two porters before:
Hope is the first, and Faith the other one.
Eug. Lo! so ghostly he prateth evermore;
Ye dare not cough, your conscience is so holy!
But I pray you show me before
Which is the way to yonder castle ye praise so greatly?
Iris. Over the Mead of Meekness mark thou the way;
Then to the Path of Patience shalt thou pass
Into the Land of Largeness; hold for the lay, A3,v.
And in the Lane of Business look thou not bash;
Then measure in a marsh a fair manor hasse;
Rest there hardely, and abide all night.
Eug. Nay, that I will not, by this light!
But what callest thou this way?
Iris. Via recta, leading to life;
So David named it in his day—
Spes mea stetit in via recta.
Eug. Passeth all men by this journey?
Iris. Nay, and the more pity, verily, I say.