"This Frere bosteth that he knoweth helle, And god it woot, that it is litel wonder; Freres and feendes been but lyte a-sonder. For pardee, ye han ofte tyme herd telle, How that a frere ravisshed was to helle In spirit ones by a visioun; And as an angel ladde him up and doun, To shewen him the peynes that ther were, In al the place saugh he nat a frere; Of other folk he saugh y-nowe in wo. Un-to this angel spak the frere tho: “Now, sir,” quod he, “han freres swich a grace That noon of hem shal come to this place?” “Yis,” quod this angel, “many a millioun!” And un-to Sathanas he ladde him doun. “And now hath Sathanas,” seith he, “a tayl Brodder than of a carrik is the sayl. Hold up thy tayl, thou Sathanas!” quod he, “Shewe forth thyn ers, and lat the frere see Wher is the nest of freres in this place!” And, er that half a furlong-wey of space, Right so as bees out swarmen from an hyve, Out of the develes ers ther gonne dryve Twenty thousand freres in a route, And thurgh-out helle swarmeden aboute; And comen agayn, as faste as they may gon, And in his ers they crepten everichon. He clapte his tayl agayn, and lay ful stille."