“the foulë fiend me fetch, If I excuse thee, though thou should’st be spilt.” “Alas!” quoth she, “God wot, I have no guilt.” “Pay me,” quoth he, “or, by the sweet Saint Anne, As I will bear away thy newë pan For debtë, which thou owest me of old— When that thou madest thine husbánd cuckóld— I paid at home for thy correctión.” “Thou liest,” quoth she, “by my salvatión; Never was I ere now, widow or wife, Summon’d unto your court in all my life; Nor never I was but of my body true. Unto the devil rough and black of hue Give I thy body and my pan also.” And when the devil heard her cursë so Upon her knees, he said in this mannére; “Now, Mabily, mine owen mother dear, Is this your will in earnest that ye say?” “The devil,” quoth she, “so fetch him ere he dey, And pan and all, but he will him repent.” “Nay, oldë stoat, that is not mine intent,” Quoth this Sompnour, “for to repentë me For any thing that I have had of thee; I would I had thy smock and every cloth.” “Now, brother,” quoth the devil, “be not wroth; Thy body and this pan be mine by right. Thou shalt with me to hellë yet tonight, Where thou shalt knowen of our privity More than a master of divinity.”
And with that word the foulë fiend him hent. Body and soul, he with the devil went, Where as the Sompnours have their heritage; And God, that maked after his imáge Mankindë, save and guide us all and some, And let this Sompnour a good man become. Lordings, I could have told you (quoth this Frere), Had I had leisure for this Sompnour here, After the text of Christ, and Paul, and John, And of our other doctors many a one, Such painës, that your heartës might agrise, Albeit so, that no tongue may devise— Though that I might a thousand winters tell— The pains of thilkë cursed house of hell. But for to keep us from that cursed place Wake we, and pray we Jesus, of his grace, So keep us from the tempter, Satanas. Hearken this word, beware as in this case. The lion sits in his await alway To slay the innocent, if that he may. Disposen aye your heartës to withstond The fiend that would you makë thrall and bond; He may not temptë you over your might, For Christ will be your champion and your knight; And pray, that this our Sompnour him repent Of his misdeeds ere that the fiend him hent.