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(Quod he) efter my rude Ingyne
I sall rehers the that rewyne.
Quhen God, the Plasmatour of all,
In to the heuin Imperiall
Did Creat all the Angellis brycht,
He maid one Angell most of mycht,
To quhome he gaif preheminence,
Aboue thame all, in sapience.
Because all vther he did prefer,
Namit he wes brycht Lucefer.
He wes so plesand and so fair,
He thocht hym self without compair,
And grew so gay and glorious,
He gan to be presumptuous,
And thocht that he wald sett his sait
In to the north, and mak debait
Agane the Maiestie Diuyne,
Quhilk wes the cause of his rewyne.
For he incurrit Goddis Yre,
And banyst frome the heuin Impyre
With Angellis mony one Legioun,
Quhilkis wer of his opinioun.
Innumerabyll with hym thare fell.
Sum lychtit in the lawest hell,
Sum in the sey did mak repair,
Sum in the erth, sum in the air.
That most vnhappy cumpanye
Att Father Adam had Inuye,
Parsaueyng Adam and his seid
In to thare places to succeid.
The Serpent wes the subtellest

Gene. iii.

Aboue all beistis, and craftyest.
Than Sathan, with ane fals intent,
Did enter in to that Serpent,
Imagenyng sum craftye wyle,
Quhow he mycht Adam best begyle,
And gar hym brek commandiment.
Bot to the woman first he went;
Traistyng the better to preuaill,
Full subtellye did hir assaill.
With facund wordis, fals and fair,
He grew with hir familiair,
That he his purpose mycht auance;
Beleuand in hir Inconstance.

Quhat is the cause, Madame (said he)
That ȝe forbeir ȝone plesand tre,
Quhilk bene, but peir, most pretious,
Quhose fruct bene moste delytious?
I Nyll (quod sche) thare to accord.
We ar forbyddin be the Lord,
The quhilk hes geuin ws lybertie
Tyll eait of euery fruct and tre
Quhilk growis in to Paradyse:
Brek we command, we ar nocht wyse.
He gaue tyll ws ane strait command
That tre to twyche nocht with our hand.
Eit we of it, without remede,
He said but dout we sulde be dede.
Beleue nocht that (said the Serpent)
Eit ȝe of it Incontinent.
Repleit ȝe sall be with Science,
And haif perfyte Intelligence,
Lyke God hym self, of euyll and gude.
Than, haistellye for to conclude,
Heiryng of this prerogatyue,
Sche pullit doun the fruct belyue,
Throw counsall of the fals Serpent,
And eit of it, to that intent,
And patt hir Husband in beleue,
That plesand fruct gyf he wald preue,
That he suld be als Sapient
As the gret God Omnipotent.
Thynk ȝe nocht that ane plesand thyng,
That we, lyke God, suld euer ryng?
He, herand this Narratioun,
And be hir solistatioun,
Mouit be prydefull ambitioun,
He eit, on that conditioun.
The principall poyntis of this offence
War pryde and Inobedience,
Desyring for to be Equall
To God, the Creature of all.
Allace, Adam, quhy did thow so?
Quhy causit thow this mortall wo?
Had thow bene constant, firme, and stabyll,
Thy glore had bene Incomparabyll.
Quhare wes thy consyderatioun,
Quhilk had the Dominatioun
Off euery leuyng Creature
That God had formit be Nature,
Tyll vse thame at thy awin deuyse?
Wes thow nocht prince of Paradyse?
Wes neuer man, sen syne, on lyue,
That God gaue sic Prerogatyue.
He gaif the strenth aboue Sampsone,
And sapience more than Salomone.
Ȝoung Absolone, in his tyme moste fair,
To thy bewte wes no compair.
Arestotyll thow did precell
In to Phylosophie naturell.
Uirgill, in tyll his Poetrye,
Nor Cicero, in tyll Oratrye,
War neuer half so Eloquent.
Quhy brak thow Goddis commandiment?
Quhare wes thy wytt, that wald nocht flee
Far frome the presens of that tree?
Gaif nocht thy Maker the fre wyll
To take the gude and leif the euyll?
Quhow mycht thy forfalt be excusit,
That Goddis commandiment refusit,
Throuch thy wyffis perswasioun?
Quhilk hes bene the occasioun,
Sen syne, that mony nobyll men,
Be the euyll counsall of wemen,
Alluterlye distroyit bene,
As in the Storeis may be sene,
Quhilk now we neid nocht tyll declair,
Bot fordwart tyll our purpose fair.
Quhen thay had eaitin of the frute,
Off Ioye than wer thay destitute.
Than gan thay boith for to thynk schame,
And to be naikit thocht defame,
And maid thame Breikis of leuis grene,
That thair secreitis suld nocht be sene.
Bot in the stait of Innocence
Thay had none sic experience,
Bot, quhen thay war to Syn subiectit,
To schame and dreid thay war coactit.
And in ane busk thay hid thame cloce,
Aschamit of the Lordis voce,
Quhilk callit Adam be his name.
(Quod he) my Lord, I thynk gret schame
Naikit to cum to thy presence.
Thow had none sic experience,
Quod God, quhen thow wes Innocent.
Quhy brake thow my commandiment?
Allace (quod Adam) to the Lorde,
The veritie I sall recorde:
This woman that thow gaif to me
Gart me eit of ȝone plesand tre.
Rychtso the woman hir excusit,
And said: the Serpent me abusit.
Than to the Serpent God said thus:
O thow Dissauer venimous,
Because the woman thow begylit,
Frome thyne furth sall thow be exylit.
Curst and waryit sall thow be;
So sall thy seid be, efter the:
Cauld erth salbe thy fude, also,
And creipand on thy breist sall go.
Als, I sall putt Inamite
Betuix the woman, euer, and the.
Betuix thy seid and womanis seid
Salbe continuall mortall feid.
Quhowbeit thow hes wrocht thir myscheuis,
It sall nocht be as thow beleuis.
Sic seid salbe in woman sawin,
That thy power salbe doun thrawin,
Treddyng thy heid that thow may feill,
And thow sall tred hym on the heill.
This was his promys and menyng,
That the Immaculat Uirgyng
Sulbe beir the Prince Omnipotent,
Quhilk suld tred doun that fals Serpent,
Sathan, and all his companye,
And thame confunde alluterlye.

(Quod he) for he wes Instrument
To Sathan, in this Miserie,
Puneist he wes, as ȝe may se.
As, be experience, thow may knaw,
Expres in to the commoun Law,
Ane man conuickit for bewgrye,
The beist is brynt als weill as he,
Quhowbeit the beist be Innocent:
And so befell of the Serpent.
It was the Feynd, full of dispyte,
Off Adamis fall quhilk had the wyte,
As he hes had of mony mo:
Bot tyll our purpose lat ws go.

Than to the woman, for hir offence,
God did pronunce this sore sentence.
All plesour that thow had afforrow
Sall cheangit be in lestyng sorrow.
Quhare that thow suld, with myrth and Ioy,
Haue borne thy byrth, butt pane or noy,
Now all thy bairnis sall thow bair
With dolour and continuall cair.
And thow salbe, for oucht thow can,
Euer subiectit to the man.

Be this sentence God did conclude
Wemen frome lybertie denude,
Quhilk, be experience, ȝe may se,
Quhow Quenis of moste hie degre
Ar vnder moste subiectioun,
And sufferis moste correctioun.
For thay, lyke byrdis in tyll ane cage,
Ar keipit ay vnder thirlage.
So all wemen, in thare degre,
Suld to thare men subiectit be.
Quhowbeit, sum ȝit wyll stryue for stait,
And for the maistrye mak debait,
Quhilk gyf thay want, boith ewin and morrow
Thare men wyll suffer mekle sorrow.
Off Eue thay tak that qualite,
To desyre Soueranite.

And than tyll Adam said the Lord:
Because that thow hes done accord
Thy wyll, and harknit to thy wyfe,
Now sall thow lose this plesand lyfe.
Thow wes tyll hir obedient,
Bot thow brake my commandiment.
Curste and baren the erth salbe
Quhare euer thow gois, tyll that thow de.
But laubour, it sall beir no corne,
Bot Thirsyll, Nettyll, Breir, and Thorne.
For fude thow gettis none vther beild,
Bot eait the herbis apone the feild.
Sore laubouryng, tyll thy browis sweit,
Frome thyne furth sall thow wyn thy meit.
I maid the of the erth, certane,
And thow in erth sall turne agane.
Than maid he thame Abilȝement,
Off skynnis ane raggit rayment,
Thame to preserue frome heit and cauld.
Than grew thare dolour mony fauld.
Now, Adam, ar ȝe lyke tyll ws,
With ȝour gay garment glorious:
To thame thir wordis said the Lorde.
Than cryit thay boith Misericorde,
Quhen frome that Garth, with hartis sore,
Baneist thay wer, for euer more,
On to this wracheit vaill of sorrow,
With daylie laubour, ewin and morrow.
Efter quhose dolorous departyng,
The Lorde gaue Paradyce in kepyng
Tyll ane Angell of Ierubin,
That none suld haue entres thare in.
Att the quhilk entres he did stand,
With flammand fyrie sweird in hand,
To keip that Adam and his wyfe
Sulde nocht taist of the tre of lyfe.
For, geue thay of that tre had preuit,
Perpetuallye thay mycht haue leuit.
So Adam and his Successioun
Off Paradyce tynt possessioun,
And, be this syn Originall,
War men to Miserie maid thrall.
My Sonne, now may thow cleirly se,
This warld began with misere.
With miserie it doith proceid,
Quhose fyne sall dolour be and dreid.