The Monk's Tale
Folio 227v
2 of 21 folios
Let no man truste in blynd prosperite
Beþ war by þese ensamples trewe and olde
AT lucifer þough he an aungil were
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And no man at him wil I bygynne
For þough fortune may non aungel dere
From heigh degre ȝit fel he for his synne
Doun in to helle . wher he ȝet is Inne
O lucifer brightest of aungels alle
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Now art þou Sathanas þat maist nouȝt twynne
Out of miserie in which þou art falle
Lo adam in þe feld of Damassene
Wiþ goddes oughne fynger wrought was he /
And nought bigeten of mannes sperma vnclene
And welt al paradys sauyng oon tre
Had neuer worldly man suche degre
As adam til he for mys gouernance
Was dryuen out of heigh prosperite
To labour and to helle and to meschaūce
Lo Sampson . þat was annunciate
By þangel long er his natiuite /
And was to god almighty consecrate
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And stood in nobles whil þat he migħt se
Was neuer such anoþer as was he
To speke of strengþ and þerto hardynesse
But to his wyfes tolde he his secre
Thurgħ which he slougħ himself for wrecchidnesse /
Thre hundrid foxis . tok Sampson for Ire
And alle her tayles he togider bond
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And sette þe foxes tailes alle on fuyre
For he in euery tail hath knyt a brond
And þay brent alle þe cornes of þat lond
And aƚƚ here Olyuers and vynes eeke
A þousand men he slougħ eek wiþ his hond
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And hadde no wepen but an asses cheeke
Whan þay were slayn so þursted him þat he
Was wel ner lorn for which he gan to preye
That god wolde of his peyne haue som pite
And send him drynk and elles most he deye