The York playsAnonymousca. 670 kilobytesMiddle English CompendiumYork

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1993The electronic text incorporates corrections by Richard Beadle as recorded in A concordance to the York plays / Gerald Byron. -- New York : Garland, 1986The York playsRichard Beadle537 p. : ill. ; 24 cm.E. ArnoldLondon1982York medieval texts. Second seriesThe printed text contained illustrations which are not noted in the electronic text.

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Play 1God Ego sum Alpha et nouissimus. I am gracyus and grete, God withoutyn begynnyng, I am maker vnmade, all mighte es in me; I am lyfe and way vnto welth-wynnyng, I am formaste and fyrste, als I byd sall it be. My blyssyng o ble sall be blendyng, And heldand, fro harme to be hydande, My body in blys ay abydande, Vnendande, withoutyn any endyng. Sen I am maker vnmade and most es of mighte, And ay sall be endeles and noghte es but I, Vnto my dygnyté dere sall diewly be dyghte A place full of plenté to my plesyng at ply; And therewith als wyll I haue wroght Many dyuers doynges bedene, Whilke warke sall mekely contene, And all sall be made euen of noghte. But onely the worthely warke of my wyll In my sprete sall enspyre the mighte of me; And in the fyrste, faythely, my thoghte to fullfyll, Baynely in my blyssyng I byd at here be A blys al-beledande abowte me, In the whilke blys I byde at be here Nyen ordres of aungels full clere, In louyng ay-lastande at lowte me. Here vndernethe me nowe a nexile I neuen, Whilke ile sall be erthe. Now all be at ones Erthe haly, and helle, this hegheste be heuen, And that welth sall welde sall won in this wones. This graunte I yoowe, mynysters myne, To-whils yohe ar stabill in thoghte- And also to thaime that ar noghte Be put to my presone at pyne. Of all the mightes I haue made, moste nexte after me I make the als master and merour of my mighte; I beelde the here baynely in blys for to be, I name the for Lucifer, als berar of lyghte. Nothyng here sall the be derand; In this blis sall be yohour beeldyng, And haue all welth in yooure weledyng, Ay-whils yohe ar buxumly berande. Angel 1 A, mercyfull maker, full mekill es thi mighte, That all this warke at a worde worthely has wroghte. Ay loued be that lufly lorde of his lighte, That vs thus mighty has made that nowe was righte noghte, In blys for to byde in his blyssyng. Ay-lastande in luf lat vs lowte hym, At beelde vs thus baynely abowete hym, Of myrthe neuermore to haue myssyng. Lucifer All the myrth that es made es markide in me! THe bemes of my brighthode ar byrnande so bryghte, And I so semely in syghte myselfe now I se, For lyke a lorde am I lefte to lende in this lighte. More fayrear be far than my feres, In me is no poynte that may payre; I fele me fetys and fayre, My powar es passande my peres. Cherabyn Lorde, wyth a lastande luf we loue the allone, THou mightefull maker that markid vs and made vs, And wroghte us thus worthely to wone in this wone, Ther neuer felyng of fylth may full vs nor fade vs. All blys es here beeldande aboute vs; To-whyls we are stabyll in thoughte In the worschipp of hym that us wroght, Of dere neuer thar vs more dowte vs. Angel 2 O, what I am fetys and fayre and fygured full fytt! THe forme of all fayrehede apon me es feste, All welth in my weelde es, I wote be my wytte; THe bemes of my brighthede are bygged with the beste. My schewyng es schemerande and schynande, So bygly to blys am I broghte; Me nedes for to noy me righte noghte, Here sall neuer payne me be pynande. Angel 1 With all the wytt at we welde we woyrschip thi wyll, THou gloryus God that es grunde of all grace; Ay with stedefaste steuen lat vs stande styll, Lorde, to be fede with the fode of thi fayre face. In lyfe that es lely ay-lastande, Thi dale, lorde, es ay daynetethly delande, And whoso that fode may be felande- To se thi fayre face-es noght fastande. Lucifer Owe, certes, what I am worthely wroghte with wyrschip, iwys! For in a glorius gle my gleteryng it glemes; I am so mightyly made my mirth may noghte mys- Ay sall I byde in this blys thorowe brightnes of bemes. Me nedes noghte of noy for to neuen, All welth in my welde haue I weledande; Abowne yohit sall I be beeldand, On heghte in the hyeste of hewuen. Ther sall I set myselfe full semely to seyghte, To ressayue my reuerence thorowe righte o renowne; I sall be lyke vnto hym that es hyeste on heghte. Owe, what I am derworth and defte-Owe! Dewes! All goes downe! My mighte and my mayne es all marrande- Helpe, felawes! In faythe I am fallande. Angel 2 Fra heuen are we heledande on all hande, To wo are we weendande, I warande. Lucifer Owte! Owte! Harrowe! Helples, slyke hote at es here; This es a dongon of dole that I am to dyghte. Whare es my kynde become, so cumly and clere? Nowe am I laytheste, allas, that are was lighte. My bryghtnes es blakkeste and blo nowe, My bale es ay betande and brynande- That gares ane go gowlande and gyrnande. Owte! Ay walaway! I well euen in wo nowe. Diabolus Owte! Owte! I go wode for wo, my wytte es all wente nowe, All oure fode es but filth we fynde vs beforn. We that ware beelded in blys, in bale are we brent nowe- Owte on the Lucifer, lurdan, oure lyghte has thou lorne. THi dedes to this dole nowe has dyghte us, To spill vs thou was oure spedar, For thow was oure lyghte and oure ledar, THe hegheste of heuen hade thou hyght vs. Lucifer Walaway! Wa es me now, nowe es it war thane it was. Vnthryuandely threpe yohe-I sayde but a thoghte. Diabolus We, lurdane, thou lost vs. Lucifer YOhe ly! Owte, allas! I wyste noghte this wo sculde be wroghte. Owte on yohow, lurdans, yohe smore me in smoke. Diabolus This wo has thou wroghte vs. Lucifer YOhe ly, yohe ly! Diabolus Thou lyes, and that sall thou by: We, lurdane, haue at yoowe, lat loke! Cherabyn A, lorde, louid be thi name that vs this lyghte lente, Sen Lucifer oure ledar es lighted so lawe, For hys vnbuxumnes in bale to be brente- Thi rightewysnes to rewarde on rowe Ilke warke eftyr is wroghte- Thorowe grace of thi mercyfull myghte The cause I se itt in syghte, Wharefore to bale he es broghte. God Those foles for thaire fayrehede in fantasyes fell, And hade mayne of mi mighte that marked tham and made tham. Forthi efter thaire warkes were, in wo sall thai well, For sum ar fallen into fylthe that euermore sall fade tham, And neuer sall haue grace for to gyrth tham. So passande of power tham thoght tham, Thai wolde noght me worschip that wroghte tham; Forthi sall my wreth euer go with tham. Ande all that me wyrschippe sall wone here, iwys; Forthi more forthe of my warke, wyrke nowe I will. Syn than ther mighte es for-marryde that mente all omys, Euen to myne awne fygure this blys to fulfyll, Mankynde of moulde will I make. But fyrste wille I fourme hym before All thyng that sall hym restore, To whilke that his talente will take. Ande in my fyrste makyng, to mustyr my mighte, Sen erthe es vayne and voyde and myrknes emel, I byd in my blyssyng yohe aungels gyf lyghte To the erthe, for it faded when the fendes fell. In hell sall neuer myrknes be myssande, THe myrknes thus name I for nighte; The day, that call I this lyghte- My after-warkes sall thai be wyssande. Ande nowe in my blyssyng I twyne tham in two, The nighte euen fro the day, so that thai mete neuer, But ather in a kynde courese thaire gates for to go. Bothe the nighte and the day, does dewly yohour deyuer, To all I sall wirke be yohe wysshyng. This day warke es done ilke a dele, And all this warke lykes me ryght wele, And baynely I gyf it my blyssyng. Play 2God In altissimis habito, In the heghest heuyn my hame haue I; Eterne mentis et ego, Withoutyn ende ay-lastandly. Sen I haue wroght thire worldys wyde, Heuyn and ayre and erthe also, My hegh Godhede I will noght hyde All-yf sume foles be fallyn me fro. When thai assent with syn of pride Vp for to trine my trone vnto, In heuyn thai myght no lengger byde But wyghtly went to wone in wo; And sen thai wrange haue wroght My lyk ys to lat tham go, To suffir sorowe onsoght, Syne thai haue seruid so. THare mys may neuer be amende Sen thai asent me to forsake, For all there force non sall thame fende For to be fendys foule and blake. And tho that lykys with me to lende, And trewly tent to me will take, Sall wonne in welth withoutyn ende And allway wynly with me wake; THai sall haue for thare sele Solace that neuer sall sclake. THis warke me thynkys full wele And more now will I make. Syne that this world es ordand euyn, Furth well I publysch my power: Noght by my strenkyth, but by my steuyn A firmament I byd apere, Emange the waterris, lyght so leuyn, THere cursis lely for to lere, And that same sall be namyd hewuyn, With planitys and with clowdis clere. THe water I will be sent To flowe bothe fare and nere, And than the firmament In mydis to set thame sere. THe firmament sal nough moue, But be a mene, thus will I mene, Ouir all the worlde to halde and houe, And be tho tow wateris betwyne. Vndir the heuyn and als aboue THe wateris serly sall be sene, And so I wille my post proue By creaturis of kyndis clene. THis warke his to my pay Righit will, withoutyn wyne; THus sese the secunde day Of my doyingys bydene. Moo sutyll werkys assesay I sall, For to be set in seruice sere: All the waterris grete and smalle THat vndir heuyne er ordande here, Gose togedir and holde yow all, And be a flode festynde in fere, So that the erthe, both downe and dale, In drynesch playnly may apere. THe drynes `landé sall be Namyd bothe ferre and nere, And then I name the `sé, Geddryng of wateris clere. THe erthe sall fostyr and furthe bryng Buxsumly, as I wyle byde, Erbys and also othir thyng, Well for to wax and worthe to wede; Treys also tharon sall spryng With braunchis and with bowis on brede, With flouris fayr on heght to hyng And fruth also to fylle and fede. And thane I will that thay Of themselfe haue the sede And mater, that thay may Be lastande furth in lede. And all ther materis es in mynde For to be made of mekyl might, And to be kest in dyueris kynde So for to bere sere burgvns bright. And when ther frutys is fully fynde And fayrest semande vnto syght, THane the wedris wete and wynde Oway I will it wende full wyght; And of there sede full sone New rotys sall ryse vpright. THe third day thus is done, THire dedis er dewly dyght. Now sene the erthe thus ordand es, Mesurid and made by myn assent- Grathely for to growe with gres And wedis that sone away bese went- Of my gudnes now will I ges, So that my werkis no harmes hent, Two lyghtis, one more and one lesse, To be fest in the firmament. The more light to the day Fully suthely sall be sent, THe lesse lyght allway To the nyght sall take entent. THir figuris fayre that furth er fun THus on sere sydys serue thai sall: The more lyght sall be namid the son, Dymnes to wast be downe and be dale. Erbis and treys that er bygune All sall he gouerne, gret and smale; With cald yf thai be closid or bun Thurgh hete of the sun thai sal be hale. Als thei haue honours In alkyn welth to wale, So sall my creaturis Euir byde withoutyn bale. THe son and the mone on fayre manere Now grathly gange in yoour degré, Als ye haue tane yooure curses clere To serue furth loke ye be fre, For ye sall set the sesons sere, Kyndely to knowe in ilke cuntré, Day fro day and yere fro yere By sertayne signes suthly to se. THe heuyn sall be ouerhyld With sternys to stand plenté. THe furth day his fulfillid, THis werke well lykys me. Now sen thir werkis er wroght with wyne And fundyn furth be firth and fell, THe see now will I set within Whallis whikly for to dewell, And othir fysch to flet with fyne- Sum with skale and sum with skell, Of diueris materis more and myn- In sere maner to make and mell; Sum sall be milde and meke, And sum both fers and fell. THis world thus will I eke, Syn I am witt of well. Also vp in the ayre on hyght I byd now that thore be ordande For to be foulis fayre and bright, Dewly in thare degré dewlland, With fedrys fayre to frast ther flight For stede to stede whore thai will stande, And also leythly for to lyght Whoreso tham lykis in ilke a londe. THane fysch and foulis sere, Kyndely I yoow commande To meng on yooure manere, Both be se and sande. THis materis more yoitt will I mende, So for to fulfill my forthoght, With diueris bestis in lande to lende To brede and be with balé furth brught. And with bestis I wille be blende Serpentis to be sene vnsoght, And wormis vpon thaire wombis sall wende To won in erth and worth to noght. And so it sall be kende How all that eme is oght, Begynnyng, mydes and ende I with my worde hase wrothe. For als I byde bus all thyng be And dewly done als I will dresse, Now bestys ar sett in sere degré On molde to moue, both more and lesse; THane foulis in ayre and fische in see And bestis on erthe of bone and flesch, I byde yoe wax furth fayre plenté And grathly growes, als I yoow gesse. So multiply yoe sall Ay furth in fayre processe, My blyssyng haue yoe all; The fift day endyd es. Play 3AGod In heuyn and erthe duly bedene Of v days werke, euyn onto ende, I haue complete by curssis clene; Methynke the space of thame well spende. In heuyn er angels fayre and brighte, Sternes and planetis ther curssis to ga, THe mone seruis onto the nyght The son to lyghte the day alswa. In erthe is treys and gres to springe, Bestis and foulys, bothe gret and smalle, Fyschis in flode, all othyr thyng Thryffe and haue my blyssyng all. Thys werke is wroght now at my will, But yoet can I here no best see THat acordys be kynde and skyll, And for my werke myght worschippe me. For perfytt werke ne ware it nane But ought ware made that myght it yoeme, For loue mad I this warlde alane, THerfor my loffe sall in it seme. To kepe this warlde, bothe mare and lesse, A skylfull best thane will I make Eftyr my schape and my lyknes, The wilke sall worschipe to me take. Off the symplest part of erthe that is here I sall make man, and for this skylle: For to abate hys hauttande chere, Bothe his gret pride and other ille; And also for to haue in mynde How simpyll he is at hys makyng, For als febyll I sall hym fynde Qwen he is dede at his endyng. For this reson and skyll alane I sall make man lyke onto me. Ryse vp, thou erthe, in blode and bane, In schape of man, I commaunde the. A female sall thou haue to fere, Her sall I make of thi lyft rybe, Alane so sall thou nough be here Withoutyn faythefull frende and sybe. Takys now here the gast of lyffe And ressayue bothe yooure saules of me; THis femall take thou to thi wyffe, Adam and Eue yoour names sall be. Adam A, lorde, full mekyll is thi mighte And that is sene in ilke a syde, For now his here a ioyfull syght To se this worlde so lange and wyde. Mony diueris thyngis now here es, Off bestis and foulis bathe wylde and tame; YOet is nan made to thi liknes But we alone-A, louyd by thi name. Eue To swylke a lorde in all degré Be euirmore lastande louynge, THat tyll vs swylke a dyngnité Has gyffyne before all othyr thynge; And selcouth thyngis may we se here Of this ilke warld so lange and brade, With bestis and fowlis so many and sere; Blessid be he that hase us made. Adam A, blyssid lorde, now at thi wille Syne we er wroght, wochesaff to telle And also say vs two vntyll Qwate we sall do and whare to dewell? God For this skyl made I yoow this day, My name to worschip ay-whare; Louys me, forthi, and louys me ay For my makyng, I axke no mare. Bothe wys and witty sall thou be, Als man that I haue made of noght; Lordschipe in erthe than graunt I the, All thynge to serue the that I haue wroght. In paradyse sall yoe same wone, Of erthely thyng get yoe no nede, Ille and gude both sall yoe kone, I sall yoou lerne yooure lyue to lede. Adam A, lorde, sene we sall do no thyng But louffe the for thi gret gudnesse, We sall ay bay to thi biddyng And fulfyll it, both more and less. Eue His syng sene he has on vs sett Beforne all othir thyng certayne, Hym for to loue we sall noght lett And worschip hym with myght and mayne. God At heuyne and erth first I begane And vj days wroght or I walde ryst; My warke is endyde now at mane, All lykes me will, but this is best. My blyssyng haue thai ever and ay. The seueynt day sall my restyng be, THus wille I sese, sothely to say, Of my doying in this degré. To blys I sall yoow bryng, Comys forth, yoe tow, with me; YOe sall lyffe in lykyng- My blyssyng wyth yoow be. Amen. Play 3BGod In heuyn and erthe duly bedene Of v daies werke evyn vnto the ende, I haue complete by courssis clene- Methynketh the space of tham wele spende. In heuen ar aungels faire and bright, Sternes and planetis ther courses to goo, THe mone serues vnto the nyghte, The sonne to lighte the day also. In erthe is trees and gresse to springe, Beestes and foules bothe grete and smale, Fisshys in flode, all othir thynge, Thryffe and haue my blissynge alle. This werke is wrought nowe at my wille, But yitte can I here no beste see That accordes by kyndly skylle, And for my werke myght worshippe me. For parfite werke ne wer it none But oughte wer made that myghte it yoeme, For loue made I this worlde alone, Therfore my loue shalle in it seme. To kepe this worlde bothe more and lesse A skylfull beeste than will Y make Aftir my shappe and my liknesse, The whilke shalle wirshippe to me take. Of the sympylest parte of erthe that is here I schalle make man, and for this skylle, For to abate his hauttande cheere, Bothe his grete pride and othir ille; And also for to haue in mynde Howe symple he is at his makynge, For als febill I shalle hym fynde Qwen he is dede at his endynge. For this reasonne and skille allone I schalle make man like vnto me. Rise vppe, thou erthe, in bloode and bone, In shappe of man, I comaunde the. A female shalte thou haue to feere, Here schalle Y make of thy lefte rybbe, Allone so shalle thou nought be heere, Withoutyn faithfull freende and sibbe. Takis nowe here the goste of liffe, And ressayue bothe youre soules of me, THis femalle take thou to thi wiffe- Adam and Eue youre names schalle bee. Adam A, lord, ful mekill is thi myght, And that is seene in ilke a side, For nowe is here a joifull sighte, To see this worlde so longe and wide. Many dyuerse thynges nowe here is, Of beestis and foules bothe wilde and tame, YOitte is non made to thi liknesse But we allone-a, loued be thy name. Eue To swilke a lorde in alle degree Be euermore lastand louynge, THat to vs such a dyngnyté Has geffynne before all othir thynge. And selcouthe thynges may we see heere Of this ilke worlde so longe and broode, With beestes and foules so many and seere, Blyssed be hee that hase vs made. Adam A, blissed lorde, nowe at thi wille Sethen we are wrought, wouchesaffe to telle And also saie vs two vntille Whatte we schalle do and where to dwelle. God For this skille made Y you this daye, My name to worschippe ay-where. Lovis me forthy, and loues me aye For my makyng-I aske no more. Bothe wyse and witty shalle thou bee Als man, that Y haue made of nought, Lordshippe in erthe than graunte Y the, Alle thynge to serue the that is wrought. In pardise shalle ye same wonne, Of erthely thyng gete yoe no nede, Ille and goode bothe shalle yoe konne, I shalle you lerne youre lyffe to leede. Adam A, lord, sene we shalle do no thynge But loue the for thy grette goodnesse, We shalle abeye to thi biddyng, And fulfille it, bothe more and lees. Eue Hys syngne sen he has on vs sette Before al othir thyng certayne, Hym for to loue we schal not lette, And worshippe hym with myghte and mayne. God At heuene and erthe firste I beganne, And vj daies wroughte or Y wolde reste, My werke is endid nowe at mane; Alle likes me wele, but this the beste. My blissynge haue they euer and ay. THe seuynte day shal my restyng be, THus wille I sese, sothly to say, Of my doyng in this degree. To blisse I schal you brynge, Comes forthe yoe two with me. YOe shalle lyff in likyng: My blissyng with you be. Amen. Play 4God Adam and Eve, this is the place That I haue graunte you of my grace To haue your wonnyng in. Erbes, spyce, frute on tree, Beastes, fewles, all that ye see Shall bowe to you, more and myn. This place hight paradyce, Here shall your joys begynne; And yf that ye be wyse, Frome thys tharr ye never twyn. All your wyll here shall ye haue, Lykyng for to eate or sayff Fyshe, fewle or fee; And for to take at your owen wyll All other creatours also theretyll, Your suggettes shall they bee. Adam, of more and lesse, Lordeship in erthe here graunte I the; Thys place that worthy is, Kepe it in honestye. Looke that ye yoem ytt wetterly; All other creatours shall multeply, Ylke one in tender hower. Looke that ye bothe saue and sett Erbes and treys; for nothyng lett, So that ye may endower To susteyn beast and man, And fewll of ylke stature. Dwell here yf that ye cann, This shall be your endowre. Adam O lorde, lovyd be thy name, For nowe is this a joyfull hame That thowe hais brought vs to, Full of myrthe and solys faughe, Erbes and trees, frute on haugh, Wyth spysys many one hoo. Loo, Eve, nowe ar we brought Bothe vnto rest and rowe, We neyd to tayke no thought, But loke ay well to doo. Eue Lovyng be ay to suche a lord, To vs hais geven so great reward To governe bothe great and small, And mayd vs after his owen read, [... ...] Emonges these myrthes all. Here is a joyfull sight Where that wee wonn in shall; We love the, mooste of myght, Great God, that we on call. God Love my name with good entent And harken to my comaundement, And do my byddyng buxomly: Of all the frute in parradyce, Tayke ye therof of your best wyse And mayke you right merry. The tree of good and yll, What tyme you eates of thys Thowe speydes thyself to spyll, And be brought owte of blysse. All thynges is mayd, man, for thy prowe, All creatours shall to the bowe That here is mayd erthly; In erthe I mayke the lord of all, And beast vnto the shall be thrall, Thy kynd shall multeply. Therefore this tree alone, Adam, this owte-take I; The frute of it negh none, For an ye do, then shall ye dye. Adam Alas lorde, that we shuld do so yll, Thy blyssed byddyng we shall fulfyll Bothe in thought and deyd; We shall no negh thys tre nor the bugh, Nor yit the fruyte that thereon groweth Therewith oure fleshe to feyd. Eue We shall do thy byddyng, We haue none other neyd; Thys frute full styll shall hyng, Lorde, that thowe hays forbyd. God Looke that ye doe as ye haue sayd, Of all that there is hold you apayd, For here is welthe at wyll. Thys tre that beres the fruyte of lyfe, Luke nother thowe nor Eve thy wyf Lay ye no handes theretyll. For-why it is knowyng Bothe of good and yll, This frute but ye lett hyng Ye speyd yourself to spyll. Forthy this tree that I owt-tayke, Nowe kepe it grathly for my sayke, That nothyng negh it neyre; All other at your wyll shall be, I owte-take nothyng but this tree, To feyd you with in feare. Here shall ye leyd your lyffe With dayntys that is deare; Adam, and Eve thy wyfe, My blyssyng haue ye here. Play 5Satan For woo my witte es in a were That moffes me mykill in my mynde; The Godhede that I sawe so cleere, And parsayued that he shuld take kynde Of a degree That he had wrought, and I dedyned THat aungell kynde shuld it noyot be; And we wer faire and bright, THerfore me thoght that he The kynde of vs tane myght, And therat dedeyned me. The kynde of man he thoght to take And theratt hadde I grete envye, But he has made to hym a make, And harde to her I wol me hye That redy way, That purpose proue to putte it by, And fande to pike fro hym that pray. My trauayle were wele sette Myght Y hym so betraye, His likyng for to lette, And sone I schalle assaye. In a worme liknes wille Y wende, And founde to feyne a lowde lesynge. Eue, Eue. Eue What es thare? Satan I, a frende. And for thy gude es the comynge I hydir sought. Of all the fruyt that ye se hynge In paradise, why ete yoe noght? Eue We may of tham ilkane Take al that vs goode thought, Save a tree outt is tane, Wolde do harme to neyghe it ought. Satan And why that tree, that wolde I witte, Any more than all othir by? Eue For oure lord God forbeedis vs itt, The frute therof, Adam nor I To neghe it nere; And yf we dide we both shuld dye, He saide, and sese our solace sere. Satan Yha, Eue, to me take tente; Take hede and thou shalte here What that the matere mente He moved on that manere. To ete therof he you defende I knawe it wele, this was his skylle: Bycause he wolde non othir kende Thes grete vertues that longes thertill. For will thou see, Who etis the frute of goode and ille Shalle haue knowyng as wele as hee. Eue Why, what-kynne thyng art thou THat telles this tale to me? Satan A worme, that wotith wele how THat yhe may wirshipped be. Eue What wirshippe shulde we wynne therby? To ete therof vs nedith it nought, We have lordshippe to make maistrie Of alle thynge that in erthe is wrought. Satan Woman, do way! To gretter state ye may be broughte And ye will do as I schall saye. Eue To do is vs full lothe THat shuld oure God myspaye. Satan Nay, certis it is no wathe, Ete it saffely ye maye. For perille ryght ther none in lyes, Bot worshippe and a grete wynnynge, For right als God yhe shalle be wyse And pere to hym in all-kyn thynge. Ay, goddis shalle ye be, Of ille and gode to haue knawyng, For to be als wise as he. Eue Is this soth that thou sais? Satan Yhe, why trowes thou noyot me? I wolde be no-kynnes wayes Telle noyot but trouthe to the. Eue Than wille I to thy techyng traste And fange this frute vnto oure foode. Satan Byte on boldly, be nought abasshed, And bere Adam to amende his mode And eke his blisse. Eue Adam, have here of frute full goode. Adam Alas woman, why toke thou this? Owre lorde comaunded vs bothe To tente the tree of his. Thy werke wille make hym wrothe- Allas, thou hast don amys. Eue Nay Adam, greve the nought at it, And I shal saie the reasonne why. A worme has done me for to witte We shalle be as goddis, thou and I, Yf that we ete Here of this tree; Adam, forthy Lette noght that worshippe for to gete. For we shalle be als wise Als God that is so grete, And als mekill of prise; Forthy ete of this mete. Adam To ete it wolde Y nought eschewe Myght I me sure in thy saying. Eue Byte on boldely, for it is trewe, We shalle be goddis and knawe al thyng. Adam To wynne that name I schalle it taste at thy techyng. Allas, what haue I done, for shame! Ille counsaille, woo worthe the! A, Eue, thou art to blame, To this entysed thou me- Me shames with my lyghame, For I am naked as methynke. Eue Allas Adam, right so am I. Adam And for sorowe sere why ne myght we synke, For we haue greved God almyghty THat made me man- Brokyn his bidyng bittirly. Allas that euer we it began. THis werke, Eue, hast thou wrought, And made this bad bargayne. Eue Nay Adam, wite me nought. Adam Do wey, lefe Eue, whame than? Eue The worme to wite wele worthy were, With tales vntrewe he me betrayed. Adam Allas, that I lete at thy lare Or trowed the trufuls that thou me saide. So may I byde, For I may banne that bittir brayde And drery dede, that I it dyde. Oure shappe for doole me defes, Wherewith thay shalle be hydde. Eue Late vs take there fygge-leves, Sythen it is thus betydde. Adam Ryght as thou sais so shalle it bee, For we are naked and all bare; Full wondyr fayne I wolde hyde me Fro my lordis sight, and I wiste whare, Where I ne roght. God Adam, Adam. Adam Lorde. God Where art thou, yhare? Adam I here the lorde and seys the noyot. God Say, wheron is it longe, THis werke why hast thou wrought? Adam Lorde, Eue garte me do wronge And to that bryg me brought. God Say, Eue, why hast thou garte thy make Ete frute I bad the shuld hynge stille, And comaunded none of it to take? Eue A worme, lorde, entysed me thertill; So welaway, That euer I did that dede so dill. God A, wikkid worme, woo worthe the ay For thou on this maner Hast made tham swilke affraye; My malysoune haue thou here With all the myght Y may. And on thy wombe than shall thou glyde, And be ay full of enmyté To al mankynde on ilke a side, And erthe it shalle thy sustynaunce be To ete and drynke. Adam and Eue alsoo, yhe In erthe than shalle ye swete and swynke, And trauayle for youre foode. Adam Allas, whanne myght we synke, We that haues alle worldis goode Ful derfly may vs thynke. God Now Cherubyn, myn aungell bryght, To middilerth tyte go dryve there twoo. Angel Alle redy lorde, as it is right, Syn thy wille is that it be soo, And thy lykyng. Adam and Eue, do you to goo, For here may yoe make no dwellyng; Goo yhe forthe faste to fare, Of sorowe may yhe synge. Adam Allas, for sorowe and care Oure handis may we wryng. Play 6Angel Alle creatures to me take tent, Fro God of heuen now am I sent Vnto the wrecchis that wronge has went Thaymself to woo; THe joie of heuen that thaym was lent Is lost thaym froo. Fro thaym is loste bothe game and glee; He badde that thei schuld maistirs be Ouer alle-kynne thyng, oute-tane a tree He taught them tille; And therto wente bothe she and he, Agayne his wille. Agaynst his wille thus haue they wrought, To greeffe grete God gaffe they right noght, THat wele wytt ye; And therfore syte is to thaym sought, As ye shalle see. The fooles that faithe is fallen fra Take tente to me nowe, or ye ga; Fro God of heuen vnto yow twa Sente am I nowe, For to warne you what-kynne wa Is wrought for you. Adam For vs is wrought, so welaway, Doole endurand nyghte and day; The welthe we wende haue wonnyd in ay Is loste vs fra. For this myscheffe ful wele we may euer mornyng ma. Angel Adam, thyselffe made al this syte, For to the tree thou wente full tyte And boldely on the frute gan byte My lord forbed. Adam Yaa, allas, my wiffe that may I wite, For scho me red. Angel Adam, for thou trowyd hir tale, He sendis the worde and sais thou shale Lyffe ay in sorowe, Abide and be in bittir bale Tille he the borowe. Adam Allas, wrecchis, what haue we wrought? To byggly blys we bothe wer brought; Whillis we wer thare We hadde inowe, nowe haue we noghte- Allas, for care. Eue Oure cares ar comen bothe kyne and colde, With fele fandyngis manyfolde; Allas, that tyraunte to me tolde, Thurghoute his gyle, That we shulde haue alle welthis in walde, Wa worthe the whyle. Angel That while yee wrought vnwittely, Soo for to greue God almyghty, And that mon ye full dere abye Or that ye go; And to lyffe, as is worthy, In were and wo. Adam, haue this, luke howe ye thynke, And tille withalle thi meete and drynke For euermore. Adam Allas, for syte why ne myght Y synke, So shames me sore. Eue Soore may we shame with sorowes seere, And felly fare we bothe in feere; Alas, that euyr we neghed it nere, THat tree vntill. With dole now mon we bye full dere Oure dedis ille. Angel Giffe for thou beswyked hym swa, Trauell herto shalle thou ta, Thy barnes to bere with mekill wa- THis warne I the. Buxom shalle thou and othir ma To man ay be. Eue Allas for doole, what shall Y doo, Now mon I neuer haue rest ne roo. Adam Nay, lo, swilke a tole is taken me too To trauaylle tyte; Nowe is shente both I and shoo, Allas, for syte. Allas, for syte and sorowe sadde, Mournynge makis me mased and madde, To thynke in herte what helpe Y hadde And nowe has none. On grounde mon I neuyr goo gladde, My gamys ere gane. Gone ar my games withowten glee; Allas, in blisse kouthe we noyot bee, For putte we were to grete plenté At prime of the day; Be tyme of none alle lost had wee, Sa welawaye. Sa welaway, for harde peyne, Alle bestis were to my biddyng bayne, Fisshe and fowle, they were fulle fayne With me to founde. And nowe is alle thynge me agayne THat gois on grounde. On grounde ongaynely may Y gange, To suffre syte and peynes strange, Alle is for dede I haue done wrange Thurgh wykkid wyle. On lyve methynkith I lyffe to lange, Allas the whille. A, lord, I thynke what thynge is this That me is ordayned for my mysse; Gyffe I wirke wronge, who shulde me wys Be any waye? How beste wille be, so haue Y blisse, I shalle assaye. Allas, for bale, what may this bee? In worlde vnwisely wrought haue wee, This erthe it trembelys for this tree And dyns ilke dele! Alle this worlde is wrothe with mee, THis wote I wele. Full wele Y wote my welthe is gone, Erthe, elementis, euerilkane For my synne has sorowe tane, THis wele I see. Was neuere wrecchis so wylle of wane As nowe ar wee. Eue We are fulle wele worthy iwis To haue this myscheffe for oure mys, For broght we were to byggely blys, Euer in to be. Now my sadde sorowe certis is this Mysilfe to see. Adam To see it is a sytfull syghte, We bothe that were in blis so brighte, We mon go nakid euery ilke a nyghte And dayes bydene, Allas, what womans witte was light! THat was wele sene. Eue Sethyn it was so me knyth it sore, Bot sethyn that woman witteles ware Mans maistrie shulde haue bene more Agayns the gilte. Adam Nay, at my speche wolde thou never spare, THat has vs spilte. Eue Iff I hadde spoken youe oughte to spill Ye shulde haue taken gode tent theretyll, And turnyd my thought. Adam Do way, woman, and neme it noght, For at my biddyng wolde thou not be And therfore my woo wyte Y thee; Thurgh ille counsaille thus casten ar we In bitter bale. Nowe God late never man aftir me Triste woman tale. For certis me rewes fulle sare That euere I shulde lerne at thi lare, Thy counsaille has casten me in care, THat thou me kende. Eue Be stille Adam, and nemen it na mare, It may not mende. For wele I wate I haue done wrange, And therfore euere I morne emange, Allas the whille I leue so lange, Dede wolde I be. Adam On grounde mon I never gladde gange, Withowten glee. Withowten glee I ga, This sorowe wille me sla, This tree vnto me wille I ta THat me is sende. He that vs wrought wisse vs fro wa, Whare-som we wende. Play 7Angel That lord of lyffe lele ay-lastand Whos myght vnmesured is to meyne, He shoppe the sonne, bothe see and sande, And wroughte this worlde with worde, I wene. His aungell cleere as cristall clene, Here vnto you thus am I sente THis tide. Abell and Cayme, yei, both bydeyne To me enteerly takis entent; To meve my message haue I ment If that ye bide. Allemyghty God of myghtes moste, When he had wrought this world so wide, No thynge hym thoughte was wroughte in waste, But in his blissyng boune to bide Neyne ordurs for to telle, that tyde, Of aungeles bryght he bad ther be. For pride And sone the tente part it was tried, And wente awaye as was worthye; They heild to helle alle that meyné THerin to bide. THanne made he manne to his liknes That place of price for to restore, And sithen he kyd hym such kyndnes Somwhat wille he wirke therfore: The tente to tyne he askis, no more, Of alle the goodes he haues you sent. Full trew To offyr loke that ye be yore, And to my tale yhe take entent, For ilke a lede that liffe has lente So shalle you sewe. Abel Gramercy God, of thy goodnes That me on molde has marked thi man, I worshippe the with worthynes, With alle the comforte that I can. Me for to were fro warkes wanne, For to fulfille thy comaundement, THe teynd Of alle the gode sen I beganne Thow shalle it haue, sen thou it sent. Come, brothir Cayme, I wolde we wente With hert ful hende. Cain We! Whythir now, in wilde waneand? Trowes thou I thynke to trusse of towne? Goo, jape the, robard jangillande, Me liste noyot nowe to rouk nor rowne. Abel A, dere brothir, late vs be bowne Goddis biddyng blithe to fulfille, I tell the. Cain Ya, daunce in the devil way, dresse the downe, For I wille wyrke euen as I will. What mystris the, in gode or ille, Of me to melle the? Abel To melle of the myldely I may. Bote goode brothir, go we in haste, Gyffe God oure teynde dulye this day- He byddis vs thus, be nouyot abassed. Cain Ya, deuell, methynketh that werke were waste, That he vs gaffe geffe hym agayne To se. Nowe fekyll frenshippe for to fraste Methynkith ther is in hym sarteyne. If he be moste in myghte and mayne What nede has he? Abel He has non nede vnto thi goode, But it wille please hym principall If thou, myldly in mayne and moode, Grouche noyot geue hym tente parte of all. [... ...] Angel It shall be done evyn as ye bydd, And that anone. Brewbarret Lo, maister Cayme, what shaves bryng I, Evyn of the best for to bere seyd, And to the feylde I wyll me hye To fetch you moo, if ye haue neyd. Cain Cume vp, sir knave, the devyll the speyd, Ye will not come but ye be prayd. Brewbarret O, maister Caym, I haue broken my to! Cain Come vp syr, for by my thryft, Ye shall drynke or ye goo. Angel Thowe cursyd Came, where is Abell? Where hais thowe done thy broder dere? Cain What askes thowe me that taill to tell, For yit his keper was I never? Angel God hais sent the his curse downe, Fro hevyn to hell, maladictio dei. Cain Take that thyself, evyn on thy crowne, Quia non sum custos fratris mei, To tyne. Angel God hais sent the his malyson, And inwardly I geve the myne. Cain The same curse light on thy crowne, And right so myght it worth and be For he that sent that gretyng downe, The devyll myght speyd both hym and the. Fowll myght thowe fall! Here is a cankerd company, Therefore Goddes curse light on you all. Angel What hast thou done? Beholde and heere, THe voice of his bloode cryeth vengeaunce Fro erthe to heuen, with voice entere THis tyde. That God is greved with thy greuaunce Take hede, I schalle telle the tydandis, THerfore abide. THou shall be curssed vppon the grounde, God has geffyn the his malisonne; Yff thou wolde tyll the erthe so rounde No frute to the ther shalle be fonne. Of wikkidnesse sen thou arte sonne, Thou shalle be waferyng here and there THis day. In bittir bale nowe art thou boune, Out-castyn shal thou be for care; No man shal rewe of thy misfare For this affraie. Cain Allas for syte, so may I saye, My synne it passis al mercie, For ask it the lord I ne maye, To haue it am I nouyot worthy. Fro the shalle I be hidde in hye, THou castis me, lorde, oute of my kyth In lande. Both here and there oute-caste am I, For ilke a man that metis me with They wille slee me, be fenne or frith, With dynte of hande. Angel Nay Cayme, nouyot soo, haue thou no drede; Who that the slees shalle ponnysshed be Sevene sithis for doyng of that dede. Forthy a token shal thou see, It shalle be prentyd so in the That ilke a man shalle the knowe full wele. Cain Thanne wolle I fardir flee For shame. Sethen I am sette thus out of seill, That curse that I haue for to feill, I giffe you the same. Play 8God Fyrst qwen I wrought this world so wyde, Wode and wynde and watters wane, Heuyn and helle was noght to hyde, Wyth herbys and gyrse thus I begane. In endles blysse to be and byde. And to my liknes made I man, Lorde and syre on ilke a side Of all medillerthe I made hym than. A woman also with hym wroght I, Alle in lawe to lede ther lyffe, I badde thame waxe and multiplye, To fulfille this worlde, withowtyn striffe. Sythn hays men wroght so wofully And synne is nowe reynand so ryffe, THat me repentys and rewys forthi THat ever I made outhir man or wiffe. Bot sen they make me to repente My werke I wroght so wele and trewe, Wythowtyn seys will noght assente, Bot euer is bowne more bale to brewe. Bot for ther synnes thai shall be shente And fordone hoyly, hyde and hewe; Of tham shal no more be mente, Bot wirke this werke I wille al newe. Al newe I will this worlde be wroght And waste away that wonnys therin, A flowyd above thame shall be broght To stroye medilerthe, both more and myn. Bot Noe alon, lefe shal it noght To all be sownkyn for ther synne; He and his sones, thus is my thoght, And with ther wyffes away sall wynne. Nooe, my seruand sad an cleyn, For thou art stabill in stede and stalle, I wyll thou wyrke withowten weyn A warke to saffe thiselfe wythall. Noah O, mercy lorde, qwat may this meyne? God I am thi Gode of grete and small Is comyn to telle the of thy teyn, And qwat ferly sall eftir fall. Noah A, lorde, I lowe the lowde and still THat vnto me-wretche vnworthye- THus with thy worde, as is thi will, Lykis to appere thus propyrly. God Nooe, as I byd the, doo fulfill: A shippe I will haue wroght in hye; All-yf thou can litill skyll, Take it in hande, for helpe sall I. Noah A, worthy lorde, wolde thou take heede, I am full olde and oute of qwarte, THat me liste do no daies dede Bot yf gret mystir me garte. God Begynne my werke behoves the nede And thou wyll passe from peynes smerte, I sall the sokoure and the spede And giffe the hele in hede and hert. I se such ire emonge mankynde THat of thare werkis I will take wreke; THay shall be sownkyn for thare synne, THerfore a shippe I wille thou make. THou and thi sonnes shall be therin, They sall be sauyd for thy sake. Therfore go bowdly and begynne Thy mesures and thy markis to take. Noah A, lorde, thi wille sall euer be wroght Os counsill gyfys of ilka clerk, Bot first, of shippe-craft can I right noght; Of ther makyng haue I no merke. God Noe, I byd the hartely haue no thought, I sall the wysshe in all thi werke, And even to itt till ende be wroght; Therfore to me take hede and herke. Take high trees and hewe thame cleyne, All be sware and noght of skwyn, Make of thame burdes and wandes betwene THus thrivandly, and noght ouer-thyn. Luke that thi semes be suttilly seyn And naylid wele that thei noght twyne; THus I deuyse ilk dele bedeyne, THerfore do furthe, and leue thy dyne. iij C cubyttis it sall be lang, And fyfty brode, all for thy blys; THe highte, of thyrty cubittis strang, Lok lely that thou thynke on this. THus gyffe I the grathly or I gang THi mesures, that thou do not mysse. Luk nowe that thou wirke noght wrang THus wittely sen I the wyshe. Noah A, blistfull lord, that al may beylde, I thanke the hartely both euer and ay; Fyfe hundreth wyntres I am of elde- Methynk ther yoeris as yestirday. Ful wayke I was and all vnwelde, My werynes is wente away, To wyrk this werke here in this feylde Al be myselfe I will assaye. To hewe this burde I wyll begynne, But firste I wille lygge on my lyne; Now bud it be alle inlike thynne, So that it nowthyr twynne nor twyne. THus sall I june it with a gynn And sadly sett it with symonde fyne: THus schall I wyrke it both more and mynne Thurgh techyng of God, maistir myne. [... ...] More suttelly kan no man sewe; It sall be cleyngked euerilka dele With nayles that are both noble and newe, THus sall I feste it fast to feele. Take here a revette, and there a rewe, With ther the bowe nowe wyrke I wele; THis werke I warand both gud and trewe. Full trewe it is who will take tente, Bot faste my force begynnes to fawlde. A hundereth wyntres away is wente Sen I began this werk, full grathely talde, And in slyke trauayle for to be bente Is harde to hym that is thus olde. But he that to me this messages sent He wille be my beylde, thus am I bowde. God Nooe, this werke is nere an ende And wrought right as I warned the. Bot yit in maner it must be mende, THerfore this lessoun lerne at me: For dyuerse beestis therin must lende, And fewles also in there degree, And for that thay sall not sam blende Dyuerse stages must ther be. And qwen that it is ordand soo With dyuerse stawllys and stagis seere, Of ilka kynde thou sall take twoo, Bothe male and femalle fare in fere. Thy wyffe, thy sonnes, with the sall goo And thare thre wyffes, withowten were; THere viij bodies withowten moo Sall thus be saued on this manere. Therfore to my biddyng be bayne, Tille all be herberd haste the faste; Eftir the vij day sall it rayne Tille fowrty dayes be fully paste. Take with the geere sclyk os may gayne To man and beeste thare lyffes to laste. I sall the socoure for certeyne Tille alle thi care awey be kaste. Noah A, lorde, that ilka mys may mende, I lowe thi lare both lowde and stille, I thanke the both with herte and hende, That me wille helpe fro angrys hill. Abowte this werke now bus me wende With beestys and fewlys my shippe to fill. He that to me this Crafte has kende, He wysshe vs with his worthy wille. Play 9Noah That lord that leves ay-lastand lyff, I loue the euer with hart and hande, That me wolde rewle be reasoune ryffe, Sex hundereth yere to lyffe in lande. Thre semely sonnes and a worthy wiffe I haue euer at my steven to stande; Bot nowe my cares aren keene as knyffe, Bycause I kenne what is commannde. Thare comes to ilke contré, YOa, cares bothe kene and calde. For God has warned me THis worlde wastyd shalle be, And certis the sothe I see, As forme-fadres has tald. My fadir Lamech who, likes to neven, Heere in this worlde thus lange gon lende, Seuene hundereth yere seuenty and seuene, In swilke a space his tyme he spende. He prayed to god with stabill steuene THat he to hym a sone shuld sende, And at the laste ther come from heuen Slyke hettyng that hym mekill amende, And made hym grubbe and graue As ordand faste beforne, For he a sone shulde haue, As he gon aftir crave; And as God vouchydsaue In worlde than was I borne. When I was borne Noye named he me, And saide thees wordes with mekill wynne: `Loo', he saide, `this ilke is he That shalle be comforte to mankynné. Syrs, by this wele witte may ye, My fadir knewe both more and mynne By sarteyne signes he couthe wele see, That al this worlde shuld synke for synne; Howe God shulde vengeaunce take, As nowe is sene sertayne, And hende of mankynde make That synne wold nouyot forsake; And howe that it shuld slake, And a worlde waxe agayne. I wolde God itt wasted were, Sa that I shuld nott tente thertille. My semely sonnes and doughteres dere, Takis yoe entent vnto my skylle. Filius 1 Fader we are all redy heere, Youre biddyng baynly to fulfille. Noah Goos calle youre modir, and comes nere, And spede vs faste that we nouyot spille. Filius 1 Fadir, we shal nouyot fyne To youre biddyng be done. Noah Alle that leues vndir lyne Sall, sone, soner passe to pyne. Filius 1 Where are ye, modir myne? Come to my fadir sone. Uxor What sais thou sone? Filius 1 Moder, certeyne My fadir thynkis to flitte full ferre. He biddis you haste with al youre mayne Vnto hym, that no thyng you marre. Uxor YOa, goode sone, hy the faste agayne And telle hym I wol come no narre. Filius 1 Dame, I wolde do youre biddyng fayne, But yow bus wende, els bese it warre. Uxor Werre? THat wolde I witte. We bowrde al wrange, I wene. Filius 1 Modir, I saie you yitte, My fadir is bowne to flitte. Uxor Now certis, I sall nouyot sitte Or I se what he mene. Filius 1 Fadir, I haue done nowe as ye comaunde, My modir comes to you this daye. Noah Scho is welcome, I wele warrande; This worlde sall sone be waste awaye. Uxor Wher arte thou Noye? Noah Loo, here at hande, Come hedir faste dame, I the praye. Uxor Trowes thou that I wol leue the harde lande And tourne vp here on toure deraye? Nay Noye, I am nouyot bowne To fonde nowe ouer there fellis. Doo barnes, goo we and trusse to towne. Noah Nay, certis, sothly than mon ye drowne. Uxor In faythe thou were als goode come downe And go do somwhat ellis. Noah Dame, fowrty dayes are nerhand past And gone sen it began to rayne, On lyffe sall no man lenger laste Bot we allane, is nought to layne. Uxor Now Noye, in faythe the fonnes full faste, This fare wille I no lenger frayne; THou arte nere woode, I am agaste, Farewele, I wille go home agayne. Noah O woman, arte thou woode? Of my werkis thou not wotte; All that has ban or bloode Sall be ouere flowed with the floode. Uxor In faithe, the were als goode To late me go my gatte. We! Owte! Herrowe! Noah What now, what cheere? Uxor I will no nare for no-kynnes nede. Noah Helpe, my sonnes, to holde her here, For tille hir harmes she takes no heede. Filius 2 Beis mery modir, and mende youre chere; This worlde beis drowned, withouten drede. Uxor Allas, that I this lare shuld lere. Noah THou spilles vs alle, ill myght thou speede. Filius 3 Dere modir, wonne with vs, THer shal no thyng you greve. Uxor Nay, nedlyngis home me bus, For I haue tolis to trusse. Noah Woman, why dois thou thus? To make vs more myscheue? Uxor Noye, thou myght haue leteyn me wete; Erly and late thou wente theroutte, And ay at home thou lete me sytte To loke that nowhere were wele aboutte. Noah Dame, thou holde me excused of itt, It was Goddis wille withowten doutte. Uxor What, wenys thou so for to go qwitte? Nay, be my trouthe, thou getis a clowte. Noah I pray the dame, be stille. Thus God wolde haue it wrought. Uxor Thow shulde haue witte my wille, Yf I wolde sente thertille, And Noye, for that same skylle, THis bargan sall be bought. Nowe at firste I fynde and feele Wher thou hast to the forest soght, THou shuld haue tolde me for oure seele Whan we were to slyke bargane broght. Noah Now dame, the thar noyot drede a dele, For till accounte it cost the noght. A hundereth wyntyr, I watte wele, Is wente sen I this werke had wrought. And when I made endyng, God gaffe me mesore fayre Of euery ilke a thyng; He bad that I shuld bryng Of beestis and foules yoynge, Of ilke a kynde a peyre. Uxor Nowe certis, and we shulde skape fro skathe And so be saffyd as ye saye here, My commodrys and my cosynes bathe, THam wolde I wente with vs in feere. Noah To wende in the watir it were wathe, Loke in and loke withouten were. Uxor Allas, my lyff me is full lath, I lyffe ouere-lange this lare to lere. Filia 1 Dere modir, mende youre moode, For we sall wende you with. Uxor My frendis that I fra yoode Are ouere flowen with floode. Filia 2 Nowe thanke we God al goode That vs has grauntid grith. Filia 3 Modir, of this werke nowe wolde ye noyot wene, That alle shuld worthe to watres wan. Filius 2 Fadir, what may this meruaylle mene? Wherto made God medilerth and man? Filia 1 So selcouthe sight was never non seene, Sen firste that God this worlde began. Noah Wendes and spers youre dores bedene, For bettyr counsell none I can. THis sorowe is sente for synne, Therfore to God we pray THat he oure bale wolde blynne. Filius 3 The kyng of al mankynne Owte of this woo vs wynne, Als thou arte lorde, that maye. Filius 1 YOa, lorde, as thou late vs be borne In this grete bale, som bote vs bede. Noah My sonnes, se yoe mydday and morne To thes catelles takes goode heede; Keppes tham wele with haye and corne; And women, fanges thes foules and feede, So that they be noyot lightly lorne Als longe as we this liffe sall lede. Filius 2 Fadir, we ar full fayne Youre biddyng to fulfille. ix monethes paste er playne Sen we wer putte to peyne. Filius 3 He that is most of mayne May mende it qwen he wyll. Noah O barnes, itt waxes clere aboute, THat may yoe see ther wher yoe sitte. Filius 1 I, leffe fadir, ye loke thareowte, Yf that the water wane ought yoitt. Noah That sall I do withowten dowte, THorbe the wanyng may we witte. A, lorde, to the I love and lowte. The catteraks I trowe be knytte. Beholde, my sonnes al three THe clowdes are waxen clere. Filius 2 A, lorde of mercy free, Ay louyd myght thou be. Noah I sall assaye the see, How depe that it is here. Uxor Loved be that lord that giffes all grace, THat kyndly thus oure care wolde kele. Noah I sall caste leede and loke the space, Howe depe the watir is ilke a dele. Fyftene cobittis of highte itt hase Ouere ilke a hille fully to feylle; Butte beese wel comforte in this casse, It is wanand, this wate I wele. Therfore a fowle of flight Full sone sall I forthe sende To seke if he haue sight, Som lande vppon to light; THanne may we witte full right When oure mornyng sall mende. Of al the fowles that men may fynde The raven is wighte, and wyse is hee. THou arte full crabbed and al thy kynde, Wende forthe thi course I comaunde the, And werly watte, and yther the wynd Yf thou fynde awdir lande or tree. ix monethes here haue we bene pyned, But when God wyll, better mon bee. Filia 1 THat lorde that lennes vs lyffe To lere his lawes in lande, He mayd bothe man and wyffe, He helpe to stynte oure striffe. Filia 3 Oure cares are kene as knyffe, God graunte vs goode tydand. Filius 1 Fadir, this foule is forthe full lange; Vppon sum lande I trowe he lende, His foode ther fore to fynde and fange- That makis hym be a fayland frende. Noah Nowe sonne, and yf he so forthe gange, Sen he for all oure welthe gon wende, Then be he for his werkis wrange Euermore weried withowten ende. And sertis for to see Whan oure sorowe sall sesse, Anodyr foule full free Owre messenger sall be; THou doufe, I comaunde the, Owre comforte to encresse. A faithfull fewle to sende art thow Of alle within there wanys wyde; Wende forthe I pray the, for owre prowe, And sadly seke on ilke a side Yf the floodes be falland nowe, THat thou on the erthe may belde and byde; Bryng vs som tokenyng that we may trowe What tydandes sall of vs betyde. Filia 2 Goode lorde, on vs thou luke, And sesse oure sorow seere, Sen we al synne forsoke And to thy lare vs toke. Filia 3 A twelmothe bott xij weke Have we be houerand here. Noah Now barnes, we may be blithe and gladde And lowe oure lord of heuenes kyng; My birde has done as I hym badde, An olyue braunche I se hym brynge. Blyste be thou fewle that neuere was fayd, That in thy force makis no faylyng; Mare joie in herte never are I hadde, We mone be saued, now may we synge. Come hedir my sonnes in hye, Oure woo away is wente, I se here certaynely THe hillis of Hermonye. Filius 1 Lovyd be that lord forthy That vs oure lyffes hase lente. Uxor For wrekis nowe that we may wynne Oute of this woo that we in wore; But Noye, wher are nowe all oure kynne And companye we knwe before? Noah Dame, all ar drowned, late be thy dyne, And sone thei boughte ther synnes sore. Gud lewyn latte vs begynne, So that we greue oure God no more; He was greved in degré And gretely moved in mynde For synne, as men may see: Dum dixit `Penitet me`. Full sore forthynkyng was he That euere he made mankynde. That makis vs nowe to tole and trusse; But sonnes, he saide-I watte wele when- `Arcum ponam in nubibus`, He sette his bowe clerly to kenne As a tokenyng bytwene hym and vs, In knawlage tille all cristen men That fro this worlde were fynyd thus, With wattir wolde he neuere wast yt then. THus has God most of myght Sette his senge full clere Vppe in the ayre of heght; The raynebowe it is right, As men may se in sight In seasons of the yere. Filius 2 Sir, nowe sen God oure souerand syre Has sette his syne thus in certayne, Than may we wytte this worldis empire Shall euermore laste, is noyot to layne. Noah Nay sonne, that sall we nouyot desire, For and we do we wirke in wane; For it sall ones be waste with fyre, And never worthe to worlde agayne. Uxor A, syre, owre hertis are soore For thes sawes that yoe saye here, That myscheffe mon be more. Noah Beis noyot aferde therfore, YOe sall noght lyffe than yore Be many hundereth yhere. Filius 1 Fadir, howe sall this lyffe be ledde Sen non are in this worlde but we? Noah Sones, with youre wiffes yoe sall be stedde, And multyplye youre seede sall yoe. YOoure barnes sall ilkon othir wedde And worshippe God in gud degré; Beestes and foules sall forthe be bredde, And so a worlde begynne to bee. Nowe travaylle sall yoe taste To wynne you brede and wyne, For alle this worlde is waste; Thez beestes muste be vnbraste, And wende we hense in haste, In Goddis blissyng and myne. Play 10Abraham Grett God that alle this world has wrought, And wisely wote both gud and ille, I thanke hym thraly in my thoght Of alle his laue he lens me tille, That thus fro barenhede has me broghte A hundereth wynter to fulfille, Thou graunte me myght so that I mowght Ordan my werkis aftir thi wille. For in this erthely lyffe Ar non to God more boune Then is I and my wyffe, For frenshippe we haue foune. Vnto me tolde God on a tyde, Wher I was telde vnder a tree, He saide my seede shulde be multyplyed Lyke to the gravell of the see, And als the sternes wer strewed wyde, So saide he that my seede schuld be; And bad I shulde be circumcicyd To fulfille the lawe-thus lernynde he me. In worlde wherso we wonne He sendes vs richeys ryve; Als ferre as schynes the sonne, He is stynter of stryve. Abram first named was I, And sythen he sette a sylypp ma; And my wiffe hyght Sarae And sythen was scho named Sara. But Sara was vncertan thanne That euere oure seede shulde sagates yoelde, Because hirselfe sho was barrane And we wer bothe gone in grete eelde. But scho wroght as a wyse woman: To haue a barne vs for to beelde, Hir seruand prevely sho wan Vnto my bede my wille to welde. Sone aftir than befelle When God oure dede wolde dight, Sho broght forthe Esmaell, A sone semely to sight. Than aftirward when we waxed alde, My wyffe scho felle in feere for same; Oure God nedes tythynges tyll vs talde Wher we wer in oure house at hame, Tille haue a sone we shulde be balde, And Isaak shulde be his name, And his seede shulde springe manyfalde. Gyff I were blythe, who wolde me blame? And for I trowed this tythynge, That God talde to me thanne, The grounde and the begynnyng Of trowthe that tyme beganne. Nowe awe I gretely God to yeelde, That so walde telle me his entente, And noght gaynestandyng oure grete eelde A semely sone he has vs sente. Now he is wight hymselfe to welde And fra me is all wightnes wente, Therfore sall he be my beelde. I lowe hym that this lane has lente, For he may stynte oure stryve And fende vs fro alle ill; I love hym as my liff, With all myn herte and will. Angel Abraham, Abraham. Abraham Loo, I am here. Angel Nowe bodeword vnto the I brynge: God wille assaye thi wille and cheere, Giffe thou wille bowe tylle his byddyng; Isaak thi sone that is the dere, Whom thou loues our alle thyng, To the lande of vyssyon wende in feere And there of hym thou make offering. I sall the shewe full sone The stede of sacrifice. God wille this dede be done, And therfore the avise. Abraham Lord God that lens ay-lastand light, This is a ferly fare to feele. Tille haue a sone semely to sight, Isaak, that I loue full wele- He is of eelde to reken right Thyrty yoere and more sumdele- And vnto dede hym buse be dight. God has saide me so for my seele, And biddis me wende on all wise To the lande of vysioune, Ther to make sacryfice Of Isaak that is my sone. And that is hythyn thre daies jornay The ganeste gate that I cane goo; And sertis, I sall noght say hym nay If God commaunde myself to sloo. Bot to my sone I will noght saye, Bot take hym and my seruantis twoo, And with our asse wende forthe our waye; As God has saide, it sall be soo. Isaak, sone, I vndirstande To wildirnesse now wende will we, Thare fore to make oure offerand, For so has God comaunded me. Isaac Fadir, I am euere at youre wille, As worthy is withowten trayne; Goddis comaundement to fulfille Awe all folke for to be fayne. Abraham Sone, thou sais me full gode skille, Bott alle the soth is noyot to sayne. Go we sen we sall thertille- I praye God sand vs wele agayne. Isaac Childir, lede forthe oure asse With wode that we sall bryne. Euen as God ordand has, To wyrke we will begynne. Famulus 1 Att youre biddyng we wille be bowne What way in worlde that yoe wille wende. Famulus 2 Why, sall we trusse ought forthe a towne In any vncouthe lande to lende? Famulus 1 I hope tha haue in this sessoune Fro God of heuyn sum solayce sende. Famulus 2 To fulfille yt is goode reasoune, And kyndely kepe that he has kende. Famulus 1 Bott what thei mene certayne Haue I na knowlage clere. Famulus 2 It may noght gretely gayne To move of swilke matere. Abraham No, noye you noght in no degré So for to deme here of oure dede, For als God comaunded so wirke will we, Vntill his tales vs bus take hede. Famulus 1 All thos that wille his seruandis be Ful specially he wille thaym spede. Isaac Childir, with all the myght in me I lowe that lorde of ilke a lede, And wirshippe hym certayne My will is euere vnto. Famulus 2 God giffe you myght and mayne Right here so for to doo. Abraham Sone, yf oure lord God almyghty Of myselfe walde haue his offerande, I wolde be glade for hym to dye, For all oure heele hyngis in his hande. Isaac Fadir, forsuth, ryght so walde I, Leuer than lange to leue in lande. Abraham A, sone, thu sais full wele, forthy God geue the grace gratthely to stande. Childir, bide yoe here still, No ferther sall yoe goo, For yoondir I se the hill That we sall wende vntoo. Isaac Kepe wele oure asse and all oure gere To tyme we come agayne you till. Abraham My sone, this wode behoues the bere Till thou come high vppon yone hill. Isaac Fadir, that may do no dere, Goddis comaundement to fullfyll, For fra all wathes he will vs were Wharso we wende to wirke his wille. Abraham A, sone, that was wele saide. Lay doune that woode euen here Tille oure auter be grathide- And, my sone, make goode cheere. Isaac Fadir, I see here woode and fyre, Bot wherof sall oure offerand be? Abraham Sertis son, gude God oure suffraynd syre Sall ordayne it in goode degré. For sone, and we do his dessyre, Full gud rewarde tharfore gette wee. In heuyn ther mon we haue oure hyre, For vnto vs so hight has hee. Therfore sone, lete vs praye To God, bothe thou and I, That we may make this daye Oure offerand here dewly. Grete God that all this worlde has wrought And grathely gouernes goode and ill, Thu graunte me myght so that I mowght Thy comaundementis to fullfill. And gyffe my flessche groche or greue oght, Or sertis my saule assentte thertill, To byrne all that I hydir broght I sall noght spare yf I shulde spille. Isaac Lorde God of grete pousté To wham all pepull prayes, Graunte bothe my fadir and me To wirke thi wille allweyes. But fadir, nowe wolde I frayne full fayne Wharof oure offerand shulde be grathid? Abraham Sertis sone, I may no lengar layne: Thyselfe shulde bide that bittir brayde. Isaac Why fadir, will God that I be slayne? Abraham YOa, suthly sone, so has he saide. Isaac And I sall noght grouche theragayne, To wirke his wille I am wele payed; Sen it is his desire, I sall be bayne to be Brittynd and brent in fyre, And therfore morne noght for me. Abraham Nay sone, this gatis most nedis be gone, My lord God will I noght gaynesaye, Nor neuer make mornys nor mone To make offerand of the this day. Isaac Fadir, sen God oure lorde allane Vowchesaffe to sende when yoe gon praye A sone to you, whan ye had nane, And nowe will that he wende his waye, Therfore faynde me to fell Tille offerand in this place; But firste I sall you telle My counsaille in this case. I knaw myselfe be course of kynde, My flessche for dede will be dredande. I am ferde that yoe sall fynde My force youre forward to withstande. Therfore is beste that ye me bynde In bandis faste, boothe fute and hande. Nowe whillis I am in myght and mynde So sall yoe saffely make offerrande, For fadir, when I am boune My myght may noght avayle. Here sall no fawte be foune To make youre forward faylle. For yoe are alde and alle vnwelde, And I am wighte and wilde of thoght. Abraham To bynde hym that shuld be my beelde! Outtane Goddis will, that wolde I noght. Bot loo, her sall no force be felde, So sall God haue that he has soght. Farewele my sone, I sall the yoelde Tylle hym that all this world has wroght. Nowe kysse me hartely I the pray. Isaak, I take my leue for ay- Me bus the mys. My blissyng haue thou enterly, And I beseke God allmyghty He giffe the his. Thus aren we samyn assent Eftir thy wordis wise. Lorde God, to this take tente, Ressayue thy sacrifice. This is to me a perles pyne, To se myn nawe dere childe thus boune. Me had wele leuer my lyf to tyne Than see this sight thus of my sone. It is Goddis will, it sall be myne, Agaynste his saande sall I neuer schone, To Goddis cummaundement I sall enclyne, That in me fawte non be foune. Therfore my sone so dere, If thou will anythyng saye, Thy dede it drawes nere, Farewele, for anes and ay. Isaac Now my dere fadir, I wolde you praye, Here me thre wordes, graunte me my bone Sen I fro this sall passe for ay; I see myn houre is comen full sone. In worde, in werke, or any waye That I haue trespassed or oght mysdone, Forgiffe me fadir or I dye this daye, For his luffe that made bothe sonne and mone. Here sen we two sall twynne Firste God I aske mercy, And you in more and myne, This day or euere I dy. Abraham Now my grete God Adonay That all this worlde has worthely wroght, Forgyffe the sone for his mercye, In worde, in worke, in dede and thoght. Nowe sone, as we ar leryd Our tyme may noyot myscarie. Isaac Nowe farewele all medilerth, My flesshe waxis faynte for ferde; Nowe fadir, take youre swerde, Methynke full lange yoe tarie. Abraham Nay, nay sone, nay, I the behete, That do I noght, withouten were. Thy wordis makis me my wangges to wete And chaunges, childe, ful often my cheere. Therfore lye downe, hande and feete, Nowe may thou witte thyn oure is nere. Isaac A, dere fadir, lyff is full swete, The drede of dede dose all my dere. As I am here youre sone To God I take me till, Nowe am I laide here bone, Do with me what yoe will. For fadir, I aske no more respete, Bot here a worde what I wolde mene: I beseke yoou or that yoe smyte Lay doune this kyrcheffe on myn eghne, Than may yooure offerand be parfite If yoe wille wirke thus as I wene. And here to God my saule I wite And all my body to brenne bydene. Now fadir be noght myssyng, But smyte fast as yoe may. Abraham Farewele, in Goddis dere blissyng And myn, for euer and ay. That pereles prince I praye Myn offerand heretill haue it, My sacryfice this day I praye the lorde ressayue it. Angel Abraham, Abraham. Abraham Loo, here iwys. Angel Abraham, abide, and halde the stille. Sla noght thy sone, do hym no mysse, Take here a schepe thy offerrand tyll, Is sente the fro the kyng of blisse That faythfull ay to the is fone; He biddis the make offerrand of this Here at this tyme, and saffe thy sone. Abraham I lowe that lord with herte entier That of his luffe this lane me lente, To saffe my sone, my darlyng dere, And sente this schepe to this entente, That we sall offir it to the here- So sall it be as thou has mente. My sone, be gladde and make goode cheere, God has till vs goode comforte sente. He will noght thou be dede, But tille his lawes take kepe; And se son, in thy stede God has sente vs a schepe. Isaac To make oure offerand at his wille All for oure sake he has it sente. To lowe that lorde I halde grete skyll That tylle his menyoe thus has mente. This dede I wolde haue tane me till Full gladly lorde, to thyn entent. Abraham A, sone, thy bloode wolde he noght spill, Forthy this shepe thus has he sente; And sone, I am full fayne Of oure spede in this place- Bot go we home agayne And lowe God of his grace. Angel Abraham, Abraham. Abraham Loo, here indede. Harke sone, sum saluyng of our sare. Angel God sais thou sall haue mekill mede For thys goode will that thou in ware. Sen thou for hym wolde do this dede- To spille thy sone and noght to spare- He menes to multiplie youre seede On sides seere, as he saide are; And yit he hight you this, That of youre seede sall ryse, Thurgh helpe of hym and his, Ouere-hande of all enmys. Luk yoe hym loue, this is his liste, And lelly lyff eftir his laye, For in youre seede all mon be bliste That ther bese borne be nyght or day. If yoe will in hym trowe or triste He will be with yoou euere and aye. Abraham Full wele wer vs and we it wiste, Howe we shulde wirke his will alwaye. Isaac Fadir, that sall we frayne At wyser men than wee, And fulfille it ful fayne Indede eftir oure degree. Abraham Nowe sone, sen we thus wele hase spede, That God has graunted me thy liffe, It is my wille that thou be wedde And welde a woman to thy wyffe; So sall thy sede springe and be spredde In the lawez of God be reasoune ryffe. I wate in what steede sho is stede That thou sall wedde, withowten stryffe: Rabek that damysell, Hir fayrer is none fone, The doughter of Batwell THat was my brothir sone. Isaac Fadir, as you likes my lyffe to spende I sall assente vnto the same. Abraham One of my seruandis sone sall I sende Vnto that birde to brynge hir hame. The gaynest gates now will we wende. My barnes, yee ar noght to blame YOeff yoe thynke lang that we her lende; Gedir same oure gere, in Goddis name, And go we hame agayne Euyn vnto Barsabé. God that is most of mayne Vs wisse and with yoou be. Play 11Rex Pharao O pees, I bidde that no man passe, But kepe the cours that I comaunde, And takes gud heede to hym that hasse Youre liff all haly in his hande. Kyng Pharo my fadir was, And led the lordshippe of this lande, I am his hayre as elde will asse, Euere in his steede to styrre and stande. All Egippe is myne awne To lede aftir my lawe, I will my myght be knawen And honnoured as it awe. Therfore als kyng I commaunde pees To all the pepill of this empire, That no man putte hym fourthe in prees But that will do als we desire. And of youre sawes I rede you sees, And sesse to me, youre sufferayne sire, That most youre comforte may encrese And at my liste lose liffe and lyre. Consolator 1 My lorde, yf any were THat walde not wirke youre will, And we wist whilke thay were Ful sone we suld thaym spill. Rex Pharao Thurghoute my kyngdome wolde I kenn, And konne tham thanke that couthe me telle, If any wer so weryd then That wolde aught fande owre forse to fell. Consolator 2 My lorde, thar are a maner of men That mustirs grete maistris tham emell, The Jewes that wonnes here in Jessen And er named the childir of Israell. They multyplye so faste THat suthly we suppose Thay are like, and they laste, Yowre lordshippe for to lose. Rex Pharao Why, devill, what gawdes haue they begonne? Er thai of myght to make afrayse? Consolator 1 Tho felons folke, sir, first was fonn In kyng Pharo yooure fadyr dayse. Thay come of Joseph, Jacob sonn, That was a prince worthy to prayse, And sithen in ryste furthe are they run, Now ar they like to lose our layse. Thay sall confounde vs clene Bot if thai sonner sese. Rex Pharao What devill ever may it mene THat they so fast encrese? Consolator 2 Howe they encrese full wele we kenn, Als oure elders before vs fande, Thay were talde but sexty and ten Whan thei enterd into this lande. Sithen haue they soionerd here in Jessen Foure houndereth yoere, this we warande, Now are they noumbered of myghty men Wele more than thre hundereth thowsande, Withowten wiffe and childe And herdes that kepes ther fee. Rex Pharao So myght we be bygillid; Bot certis that sall noght be, For with qwantise we sall tham qwelle, THat thei sall no farrar sprede. Consolator 1 Lorde, we have herde oure fadres telle Howe clerkis, that ful wele couthe rede, Saide a man shulde wax tham emell That suld fordo vs and owre dede. Rex Pharao Fy on tham, to the devell of helle! Swilke destanye sall we noght drede. We sall make mydwayes to spille tham, Whenne oure Ebrewes are borne, All that are mankynde to kille tham, So sall they sone by lorne. For of the other haue I non awe. Swilke bondage sall we to tham bede: To dyke and delfe, beere and drawe, And do all swilke vnhonest dede. THus sall the laddis beholden lawe, Als losellis ever thaire lyff to leede. Consolator 2 Certis lorde, this is a sotell sawe, So sall the folke no farrar sprede. Rex Pharao Yaa, helpes to halde tham doune, THat we no fantyse fynde. Consolator 1 Lorde, we sall ever be bowne In bondage tham to bynde. Moyses Grete God that all this grounde began And governes euere in gud degree, That made me Moyses vnto man And saued me sythen out of the see- Kyng Pharo he comaunded than So that no sonnes shulde saued be, Agayns his wille away I wan- Thus has God shewed his myght in me. Nowe am I here to kepe, Sett vndir Synay syde, The bisshoppe Jetro schepe, So bettir bute to bide. A, mercy God, mekill is thy myght, What man may of thy meruayles mene! I se yoondyr a ful selcouth syght Wherof befor no synge was seene. A busk I se yondir brennand bright And the leues last ay inlike grene; If it be werke of worldly wight I will go witte withowten wene. God Moyses, come noght to nere Bot stille in that stede dwelle, And take hede to me here, And tente what I the telle. I am thy lorde, withoutyn lak, To lengh thi liffe euen as me list, And the same God that somtyme spak Vnto thyne elders als thei wiste; Both Abraham and Ysaac And Jacob, saide I, suld be bliste And multyplyeand, tham to mak, So that ther seede shulde noght be myste. And nowe kyng Pharo Fuls thare childir ful faste. If I suffir hym soo THare seede shulde sone be past. To make the message haue I mende To hym that tham so harmed hase, To warne hym with wordes hende So that he lette my pepull passe, That they to wildirnesse may wende And wirshippe me als whilom was. And yf he lenger gar them lende His sange ful sone sall be `alas'. Moyses A, lord, syth, with thy leue, THat lynage loves me noght, Gladly they walde me greve And I slyke boodword brought. Therfore lord, late sum othir fraste THat hase more forse tham for to feere. God Moyses, be noght abaste My bidding baldely to bere. If thai with wrang ought walde the wrayste, Owte of all wothis I sall the were. Moyses We, lord, thai wil noght to me trayste For al the othes that I may swere. To neven slyke note of newe To folke of wykkyd will, Withouten taken trewe, They will noght take tente thertill. God And if they will noght vndirstande Ne take heede how I haue the sente, Before the kyng cast downe thy wande And it sall seme as a serpent. Sithen take the tayle in thy hande And hardely vppe thou itt hente, In the firste state als thou it fande- So sall it turne be myn entent. Hyde thy hande in thy barme And as a lepre it sall be like, Sithen hale withouten harme; THi syngnes sall be slyke. And if he wil not suffre than My pepull for to passe in pees, I sall send vengeaunce ix or x To sewe hym sararre, or I sesse. Bot the Jewes that wonnes in Jessen Sall noyot be merked with that messe, Als lange als thai my lawes will kenne THer comfort sal I euere encresse. Moyses A, lorde, lovyd be thy wille THat makes thy folke so free, I sall tell tham vntill Als thou telles vnto me. But to the kyng, lorde, whan I come And he ask me what is thy name, And I stande stille than, defe and dum, How sal I be withouten blame? God I saie thus ego sum qui sum, I am he that I am the same, And if thou myght not meve ne mum I sall the saffe fro synne and shame. Moyses I vndirstande this thyng With al the myght in me. God Be bolde in my blissyng, Thy belde ay sall I be. Moyses A, lorde of lyffe, lere me my layre THat I there tales may trewly tell. Vnto my frendis nowe will I fare, THe chosen childre of Israell, To telle tham comforte of ther care, And of there daunger that thei in dwell. God mayntayne you and me euermare, And mekill myrthe be you emell. Puer 1 A, Moyses, maistir dere, Oure myrthe is al mornyng, We are harde halden here Als carls vndir the kyng. Puer 2 Moyses, we may mourne and myne, THer is no man vs myrthes mase; And sen we come al of a kynne, Ken vs som comforte in this case. Moyses Beith of youre mornyng blyne, God wil defende you of your fays. Oute of this woo he will you wynne To plese hym in more plener place. I sall carpe to the kyng And fande to make you free. Puer 3 God sende vs gud tythynge, And allway with you be. Moyses Kyng Pharo, to me take tent. Rex Pharao Why, what tydyngis can thou tell? Moyses Fro God of heuen thus am I sente To fecche his folke of Israell; To wildirnesse he walde thei wente. Rex Pharao YOaa, wende thou to the devell of hell. I make no force howe thou has mente, For in my daunger sall thei dwelle. And faytour, for thy sake, THei sall be putte to pyne. Moyses THanne will God vengeaunce take On the and on al thyne. Rex Pharao Fy on the ladde, oute of my lande! Wenes thou with wiles to lose oure laye? When is this warlowe with his wande THat wolde thus wynne oure folke away? Consolator 2 It is Moyses, we wele warrand, Agayne al Egipte is he ay. Youre fadir grete faute in hym fande, Nowe will he marre you if he may. Rex Pharao Nay, nay, that daunce is done, THat lordan leryd ouere-late. Moyses God biddis the graunte my bone, And late me go my gate. Rex Pharao Biddis God me? Fals lurdayne, thou lyes! What takyn talde he, toke thou tent? Moyses YOaa sir, he saide thou suld despise Botht me and all his comaundement. In thy presence kast on this wise My wande he bad by his assent, And that thou shulde the wele avise Howe it shulde turne to a serpent. And in his haly name Here sal I ley it downe: Loo ser, se her the same. Rex Pharao A! Dogg! THe deuyll the drowne! Moyses He saide that I shulde take the tayle So for to proue his poure playne, And sone he saide it shuld not fayle For to turne a wande agayne. Loo sir, behalde. Rex Pharao Hopp illa hayle! Now certis this is a sotill swayne, But this boyes sall byde here in oure bayle, For al thair gaudis sall noght tham gayne; Bot warse, both morne and none, Sall thei fare for thy sake. Moyses God sende sum vengeaunce sone, And on thi werke take wrake. Egyptian 1 Allas, allas, this lande is lorne, On lif we may no lenger lende. Egyptian 2 So grete myscheffe is made sen morne THer may no medycyne vs amende. Consolator 1 Sir kyng, we banne that we wer borne, Oure blisse is all with bales blende. Rex Pharao Why crys you swa, laddis? Liste you scorne? Egyptian 1 Sir kyng, slyk care was neuere kende. Oure watir that was ordand To men and beestis fudde, Thurghoute al Egipte lande Is turned to rede blude. Full vgly and ful ill is it THat was ful faire and fresshe before. Rex Pharao This is grete wondir for to witt Of all the werkis that ever wore. Egyptian 2 Nay lorde, ther is anothir yoitt That sodenly sewes vs ful sore, For tadys and frosshis we may not flitte, Thare venym loses lesse and more. Egyptian 1 Lorde, grete myses bothe morn and none Bytis vs full bittirlye, And we hope al by done By Moyses, oure enemye. Consolator 1 Lorde, whills ve with this menyhe meve Mon never myrthe be vs emange. Rex Pharao Go saie we sall no lenger greve- But thai sall neuere the tytar gang. Egyptian 2 Moyses, my lord has grauntyd leve At lede thy folk to likyng lande, So that we mende of oure myscheue. Moyses I wate ful wele thar wordes er wrange; That sall ful sone be sene, For hardely I hym heete, And he of malice mene Mo mervaylles mon he mett. Egyptian 1 Lorde, allas, for dule we dye, We dar not loke oute at no dore. Rex Pharao What deuyll ayles yow so to crye? Egyptian 2 We fare nowe werre than euere we fure. Grete loppis ouere all this lande thei flye, That with bytyng makis mekill blure. Egyptian 1 Lorde, oure beestis lyes dede and dry Als wele on myddyng als on more- Both oxe, horse and asse Fallis dede doune sodanly. Rex Pharao Therof no man harme has Halfe so mekil as I. Consolator 2 YOis lorde, poure men has mekill woo To see ther catell be out cast. The Jewes in Jessen faren noyot soo, They haue al likyng in to last. Rex Pharao Go saie we giffe tham leue to goo To tyme there parellis be ouer-past- But or thay flitte over-farre vs froo We sall garre feste tham foure so fast. Egyptian 2 Moyses, my lord giffis leue Thy men for to remewe. Moyses He mon haue more mischeff But if his tales be trewe. Egyptian 1 We, lorde, we may not lede this liffe. Rex Pharao Why, is ther greuaunce growen agayne? Egyptian 2 Swilke poudre, lord, apon vs dryffe That whare it bettis it makis a blayne. Egyptian 1 Like mesellis makis it man and wyffe. Sythen ar they hurte with hayle and rayne; Oure wynes in mountaynes may noyot thryve, So ar they threst and thondour-slayne. Rex Pharao How do thay in Jessen, THe Jewes, can yoe aught say? Egyptian 2 THis care nothyng they ken, THay fele no such affray. Rex Pharao No? Devill! And sitte they so in pees And we ilke day in doute and drede? Egyptian 1 My lorde, this care will euere encrese Tille Moyses have leve tham to lede. Consolator 1 Lorde, war thay wente than walde it sese, So shuld we save vs and oure seede, Ellis be we lorne-this is no lese. Rex Pharao Late hym do fourth, the devill hym spede! For his folke sall no ferre Yf he go welland woode. Consolator 2 THan will itt sone be warre, YOit war bettir thai yooode. Egyptian 2 We, lorde, new harme is comon to hande. Rex Pharao No! Devill! Will itt no bettir be? Egyptian 1 Wilde wormes is laide ouere al this lande, THai leve no frute ne floure on tree; Agayne that storme may nothyng stande. Egyptian 2 Lord, ther is more myscheff thynke me, And thre daies hase itt bene durand, So myrke that non myght othir see. Egyptian 1 My lorde, grete pestelence Is like ful lange to last. Rex Pharao Owe, come that in oure presence? Than is oure pride al past. Egyptian 2 My lorde, this vengeaunce lastis lange, And mon till Moyses haue his bone. Consolator 1 Lorde, late tham wende, els wirke we wrang, It may not helpe to hover na hone. Rex Pharao Go saie we graunte tham leue to gange In the devill way, sen itt bus be done- For so may fall we sall tham fang And marre tham or tomorne at none. Egyptian 1 Moyses, my lorde has saide THou sall haue passage playne. Moyses And to passe am I paied. My frendes, bees nowe fayne, For at oure will now sall we wende, In lande of lykyng for to lende. Puer 1 Kyng Pharo, that felowns fende, Will haue grete care fro this be kende, Than will he schappe hym vs to shende And sone his ooste aftir vs sende. Moyses Beis noght aferde, God is youre frende, Fro alle oure fooes he will vs fende. THarfore comes furthe with me, Haves done and drede yow noght. Puer 2 My lorde, loved mott thou bee, THat us fro bale has brought. Puer 3 Swilke frenshippe never before we fande, But in this faire defautys may fall. THe Rede See is ryght nere at hande, THer bus vs bide to we be thrall. Moyses I sall make vs way with my wande, For God hase sayde he saue vs sall; On aythir syde the see sall stande, Tille we be wente, right as a wall. Therfore have yoe no drede, But faynde ay God to plese. Puer 1 THat lorde to lande vs lede, Now wende we all at esse. Egyptian 1 Kyng Pharro, ther folke er gane. Rex Pharao Howe nowe, es ther any noyes of newe? Egyptian 2 The Ebrowes er wente ilkone. Rex Pharao How sais thou that? Egyptian 1 THer talis er trewe. Rex Pharao Horse harneys tyte, that thei be tane, THis ryott radly sall tham rewe. We sall not sese or they be slone, For to the se we sall tham sew. Do charge oure charyottis swithe And frekly folowes me. Egyptian 2 My lorde we are full blithe At youre biddyng to be. Consolator 2 Lorde, to youre biddyng we er boune Owre bodies baldely for to bede, We sall noght byde, but dyng tham doune Tylle all be dede, withouten drede. Rex Pharao Hefe vppe youre hartis ay to Mahownde, He will be nere vs in oure nede. Owte! Ay herrowe! Devill, I drowne! Egyptian 1 Allas, we dye for alle our dede. Puer 1 Nowe ar we wonne fra waa And saued oute of the see, Cantemus domino, To God a sange synge wee. Play 12Doctor Lord God, grete meruell es to mene Howe man was made withouten mysse, And sette whare he sulde euer haue bene Withouten bale, bidand in blisse; And howe he lost that comforth clene And was putte oute fro paradys, And sithen what sorouse sor warr sene Sente vnto hym and to al his; And howe they lay lange space In helle, lokyn fro lyght, Tille God graunted tham grace Of helpe, als he hadde hyght. THan is it nedfull for to neven How prophettis all Goddis counsailes kende, Als prophet Amos in his steuen Lered whils he in his liffe gun lende: Deus pater disposuit salutem fieri in medio terre, etc. He sais thus: God the fadir in heuen Ordand in erthe mankynde to mende; And to grayth it with Godhede euen, His sone he saide that he suld sende To take kynde of mankyn, In a mayden full mylde; So was many saued of syn And the foule fende begyled. And for the feende sulde so be fedd Be tyne, and to no treuth take tentt, God made that mayden to be wedde Or he his sone vnto hir sentte. So was the Godhede closed and cledde In wede of weddyng whare thy wente; And that oure blisse sulde so be bredde Ful many materes may be mente: Quoniam in semine tuo benedicentur omnes gentes, etc. God hymself sayde this thynge To Abraham als hym liste: Of thy sede sall vppe sprynge Wharein folke sall be bliste. To proue thes prophettes ordande er, Als Isay, vnto olde and yenge, He moued oure myscheues for to merr, For thus he prayed God for this thynge: Rorate, celi, desuper- Lord, late thou doune at thy likyng THe dewe to fall fro heuen so ferre, For than the erthe sall sprede and sprynge A seede that vs sall saue, THat nowe in blisse are bente. Of clerkis whoso will craue THus may ther gatis be mente: THe dewe to the gode haly gaste May be remened in mannes mynde, The erthe vnto the mayden chaste, Bycause sho comes of erthely kynde. THir wise wordis ware noght wroght in waste, To waffe and wende away als wynde, For this same prophett sone in haste Saide forthermore, als folkes may fynde: Propter hoc dabit dominus ipse vobis signum, etc. Loo, he sais thus: God sall gyffe Hereof a syngne to see Tille all that lely lyffe, And this thare sygne sal be, Ecce uirgo concipiett, et pariet filium, etc. Loo, he sais a mayden mon Here on this molde mankynde omell, Full clere consayue and bere a sonne, And neven his name Emanuell. His kyngdom that euere is begonne Sall never sese, but dure and dwell; On Dauid sege thore sall he wonne, His domes to deme and trueth to telle. Zelus domini faciet hoc, etc. He says, luffe of oure lorde All this sall ordan thanne; That mennes pees and accorde To make with erthely manne. More of this maiden meves me; This prophett sais for oure socoure Egredietur virga de Jesse- A wande sall brede of Jesse boure, And of this same also sais hee: Vpponne that wande sall springe a floure Wheron the haly gast sall be, To governe it with grete honnoure. That wande meynes vntill vs THis mayden, even and morne, And the floure is Jesus, THat of that blyst bees borne. THe prophet Johell, a gentill Jewe, Somtyme has saide of the same thyng, He likenes Criste euen als he knewe Like to the dewe in doune-commyng: Ero quasi ros; et virgo Israell germinabit sicut lilium. THe maiden of Israell al newe, He sais, sall bere one and forthe brynge Als the lelly floure, full faire of hewe. THis meynes sa to olde and yoenge, THat the hegh haly gaste Come oure myscheffe to mende In Marie, mayden chaste, When God his sone walde sende. THis lady is to the lilly lyke- THat is bycause of hir clene liffe, For in this worlde was never slyke One to be mayden, modir, and wyffe. And hir sonne, kyng in heuen-ryke, Als oft es red be reasoune ryfe, And hir husband, bath maistir and meke, In charité to stynte all striffe- THis passed all worldly witte, How God had ordand thaim thanne In hir one to be knytte, Godhed, maydenhed, and manne. Bot of this werke grete witnes was With forme-faders, all folke may tell. Whan Jacob blyst his sone Judas He tolde the tale thaim two emell: Non auferetur septrum de Juda, donec ueniat qui mittendus est. He sais the septer sall noght passe Fra Juda lande of Israell, Or he comme that God ordand has To be sente feendis force to fell. Et ipse erit expectacio gencium. Hym sall alle folke abyde, And stande vnto his steuen. Ther sawes wer signified To Crist, Goddis sone in heuen. For howe he was sente, se we more, And howe God wolde his place puruay; He saide, sonne, I sall sende byfore Myne aungell to rede the thy way- Ecce mitto aungelum meum ante faciem tuam, qui preparabit viam tuam ante te. Of John Baptist he menyd thore, For in erthe he was ordand ay To warne the folke that wilsom wore Of Cristis comyng, and thus gon say: Ego quidem baptizo in aqua vos, autem baptizabimini spiritu sancto. Eftir me sall come nowe A man of myghtis mast, And sall baptis yoowe In the high haly gast. THus of Cristis commyng may we see How sainte Luke spekis in his gospell: Fro God in heuen es sent, sais he, An aungell is named Gabriell, To Nazareth in Galalé, Where than a mayden mylde gon dwell, THat with Joseph suld wedded be; Hir name is Marie-thus gan he telle. How God his grace than grayd To man in this manere, And how the aungell saide, Takes hede, all that will here. Angel Hayle Marie, full of grace and blysse, Oure lord God is with the And has chosen the for his, Of all women blist mot thou be. Mary What maner of halsyng is this THus preuely comes to me? For in myn herte a thoght it is, THe tokenyng that I here see. Angel Ne drede the noght thou mylde Marie, For nothyng that may befalle, For thou has fun soueranly At God a grace ouer othir all. In chastité of thy bodye Consayue and bere a childe thou sall; This bodword brynge I the, forthy His name Jesu sall thou calle. Mekill of myght than sall he bee, He sall be God and called God sonn. Dauid sege, his fadir free, Sall God hym giffe to sytte vppon; Als kyng for euer regne sall hee, In Jacob house ay for to wonne, Of his kyngdome and dignité Shall noo man erthly knaw ne con. Mary THou Goddis aungell meke and mylde, Howe sulde it be, I the praye, That I sulde consayve a childe Of any man by nyght or daye? I knawe no man that shulde haue fyled My maydenhode, the sothe to saye; Withouten will of werkis wilde In chastité I haue ben ay. Angel THe haly gast in the sall lighte, Hegh vertue sall to the holde, The holy birthe of the so bright God sonne he sall be calde. Loo, Elyzabeth thi cosyne ne myght In elde consayue a childe for alde; THis is the sexte moneth full ryght, To hir that baran has ben talde. Mary Thou aungell, blissid messanger, Of Goddis will I holde me payde; I love my lorde with herte clere, THe grace that he has for me layde. Goddis handmayden, lo me here To his wille all redy grayd; Be done to me of all manere Thurgh thy worde als thou hast saide. Now God that all oure hope is in, Thur the myght of the haly gaste, Saue the, dame, fro sak of synne, And wisse the fro all werkis wast. Elyzabeth myn awne cosyne, Methoght I coveyte alway mast To speke with the of all my kynne, Therfore I comme thus in this hast. Elizabeth A, welcome mylde Marie, Myne aughen cosyne so dere, Joifull woman am I THat I nowe see the here. Blissed be thou anely Of all women in feere, And the frute of thy body Be blissid ferre and nere. THis is joyfull tydyng THat I may nowe here see, THe modyr of my lord kyng Thus-gate come to me. Sone als the voyce of thine haylsing Moght myn neres entreand be, THe childe in my wombe so yenge Makes grete myrthe vnto the. Mary Nowe lorde, blist be thou ay For the grace thou has me lente; Lorde, I lofe the, God verray, THe sande thou hast me sente. I thanke the nyght and day, And prayes with goode entente THou make me to thy paye, To the my wille is wentte. Elizabeth Blissid be thou grathely grayed To God thurgh chastité, THou trowed and helde the payed Atte his wille for to bee. All that to the is saide Fro my lorde so free, Swilke grace is for the layde Sall be fulfilled in the. Mary To his grace I will me ta, With chastité to dele, THat made me thus to ga Omange his maidens feele. My saule sall louying ma Vnto that lorde so lele, And my gast make ioye alswa In God that es my hele. Play 13Joseph Of grete mornyng may I me mene And walke full werily be this way, For nowe than wende I best hafe bene Att ease and reste by reasoune ay. For I am of grete elde, Wayke and al vnwelde, Als ilke man se it maye; I may nowder buske ne belde But owther in frithe or felde; For shame what sall I saie, That thus-gates nowe on myne alde dase Has wedded a yonge wenche to my wiff, And may noyot wele tryne over two strase? Nowe lorde, how lange sall I lede this liff? My banes er heuy als lede And may noyot stande in stede, Als kende it is full ryfe. Now lorde, thou me wisse and rede Or sone me dryue to dede, THou may best stynte this striffe. For bittirly than may I banne The way I in the temple wente, Itt was to me a bad barganne, For reuthe I may it ay repente. For tharein was ordande Vnwedded men sulde stande, Al sembled at asent, And ilke ane a drye wande On heght helde in his hand, And I ne wist what it ment. In-mange al othir ane bare I; Itt florisshed faire, and floures on sprede, And thay saide to me forthy THat with a wiffe I sulde be wedde. THe bargayne I made thare, THat rewes me nowe full sare, So am I straytely sted. Now castes itt me in care, For wele I myght eueremare Anlepy life haue led. Hir werkis me wyrkis my wonges to wete; I am begiled-how, wate I noyot. My yoonge wiffe is with childe full grete, THat makes me nowe sorowe vnsoght. THat reproffe nere has slayne me, Forthy giff any man frayne me How this thing miyot be wroght, To gabbe yf I wolde payne me, THe lawe standis harde agayne me: To dede I mon be broght. And lathe methinketh, on the todir syde, My wiff with any man to defame, And whethir of there twa that I bide I mon noyot scape withouten schame. THe childe certis is noght myne; THat reproffe dose me pyne And gars me fle fra hame. My liff gif I shuld tyne, Sho is a clene virgine For me, withouten blame. But wele I wate thurgh prophicie A maiden clene suld bere a childe, But it is nought sho, sekirly, Forthy I wate I am begiled. And why ne walde som yonge man ta her? For certis I thynke ouer-ga hir Into som wodes wilde, Thus thynke I to stele fra hir. God childe ther wilde bestes sla hir, She is so meke and mylde. Of my wendyng wil I none warne, Neuere the lees it is myne entente To aske hir who gate hir that barne, YOitt wolde I witte fayne or I wente. All hayle, God be hereinne. Puella 1 Welcome, by Goddis dere myght. Joseph Whare is that yoonge virgine Marie, my berde so bright? Puella 1 Certis Joseph, yoe sall vndirstande THat sho is not full farre you fra, Sho sittis at hir boke full faste prayand For yoou and vs, and for all tha THat oght has nede. But for to telle hir will I ga Of youre comyng, withouten drede. Haue done and rise vppe, dame, And to me take gud hede- Joseph, he is comen hame. Mary Welcome, als God me spede. Dredles to me he is full dere; Joseph my spouse, welcome er yhe. Joseph Gramercy Marie, saie what chere, Telle me the soth, how est with the? Wha has ben there? Thy wombe is waxen grete, thynke me, THou arte with barne, allas for care. A, maidens, wa worthe yoou, THat lete hir lere swilke lare. Puella 2 Joseph, yoe sall noyot trowe In hir no febill fare. Joseph Trowe it noght arme? Lefe wenche, do way! Hir sidis shewes she is with childe. Whose ist Marie? Mary Sir, Goddis and youres. Joseph Nay, nay, Now wate I wele I am begiled, And reasoune why? With me flesshely was thou neuere fylid, And I forsake it here forthy. Say maidens, how es this? Tels me the sothe, rede I; And but yoe do, iwisse, THe bargayne sall yoe aby. Puella 2 If yoe threte als faste as yhe can THare is noght to saie theretill, For trulye her come neuer no man To waite the body with non ill Of this swete wight, For we haue dwelt ay with hir still And was neuere fro hir day nor nyght. Hir kepars haue we bene And sho ay in oure sight, Come here no man bytwene To touche that berde so bright. Puella 1 Na, here come no man in there wanes And that euere witnesse will we, Saue an aungell ilke a day anes With bodily foode hir fedde has he, Othir come nane. Wharfore we ne wate how it shulde be But thurgh the haly gaste allane. For trewly we trowe this, Is grace with hir is gane, For sho wroght neuere no mys, We witnesse euere ilkane. Joseph THanne se I wele youre menyng is THe aungell has made hir with childe. Nay, som man in aungellis liknesse With somkyn gawde has hir begiled, And that trow I. Forthy nedes noght swilke wordis wilde At carpe to me dissayuandly. We, why gab ye me swa And feynes swilk fantassy? Allas, me is full wa, For dule why ne myght I dy. To me this is a carefull cas; Rekkeles I raffe, refte is my rede. I dare loke no man in the face, Derfely for dole why ne were I dede; Me lathis my liff. In temple and in othir stede Ilke man till hethyng will me dryff. Was neuer wight sa wa, For ruthe I all to-ryff; Allas, why wroght thou swa Marie, my weddid wiffe? Mary To my witnesse grete God I call, THat in mynde wroght neuere na mysse. Joseph Whose is the childe thou arte withall? Mary Youres sir, and the kyngis of blisse. Joseph Ye, and hoo than? Na, selcouthe tythandis than is this, Excuse tham wele there women can. But Marie, all that sese the May witte thi werkis ere wan, Thy wombe allway it wreyes the THat thou has mette with man. Whose is it, als faire mot the befall? Mary Sir, it is youres and Goddis will. Joseph Nay, I ne haue noght ado withall- Neme it na more to me, be still! THou wate als wele as I, THat we two same flesshly Wroght neuer swilk werkis with ill. Loke thou dide no folye Before me preuely Thy faire maydenhede to spill. But who is the fader? Telle me his name. Mary None but youreselfe. Joseph Late be, for shame. I did it neuere; thou dotist dame, by bukes and belles! Full sakles shulde I bere this blame aftir thou telles, For I wroght neuere in worde nor dede Thyng that shulde marre thy maydenhede, To touche me till. For of slyk note war litill nede, Yhitt for myn awne I wolde it fede, Might all be still; THarfore the fadir tell me, Marie. Mary But God and yhow, I knawe right nane. Joseph A, slike sawes mase me full sarye, With grete mornyng to make my mane. Therefore be noyot so balde, THat no slike tales be talde, But halde the stille als stane. THou art yonge and I am alde, Slike werkis yf I do walde, THase games fra me are gane. Therfore, telle me in priuité, Whos is the childe thou is with nowe? Sertis, ther sall non witte but we, I drede the law als wele as thou. Mary Nowe grete God of his myght THat all may dresse and dight, Mekely to the I bowe. Rewe on this wery wight, THat in his herte myght light THe soth to ken and trowe. Joseph Who had thy maydenhede Marie? Has thou oght mynde? Mary Forsuth, I am a mayden clene. Joseph Nay, thou spekis now agayne kynde, Slike thing myght neuere na man of mene. A maiden to be with childe? THase werkis fra the ar wilde, Sho is not borne I wene. Mary Joseph, yhe ar begiled, With synne was I neuer filid, Goddis sande is on me sene. Joseph Goddis sande? Yha Marie, God helpe! Bot certis that childe was neuere oures twa. But woman-kynde gif tham list yhelpe, Yhitt walde thei na man wiste ther wa. Mary Sertis it is Goddis sande [... ...] THat sall I neuer ga fra. Joseph Yha, Marie, drawe thyn hande, For forther yoitt will I fande, I trowe not it be swa. THe soth fra me gif that thou layne, THe childe-bering may thou noyot hyde; But sitte stille here tille I come agayne, Me bus an erand here beside. Mary Now grete God he you wisse, And mende you of your mysse Of me, what so betyde. Als he is kyng of blisse, Sende yhou som seand of this, In truth that ye might bide. Joseph Nowe lord God that al thing may At thyne awne will bothe do and dresse, Wisse me now som redy way To walke here in this wildirnesse. Bot or I passe this hill, Do with me what God will, Owther more or lesse, Here bus me bide full stille Till I haue slepid my fille, Myn hert so heuy it is. Angel Waken, Joseph, and take bettir kepe To Marie, that is thi felawe fest. Joseph A, I am full werie, lefe, late me slepe, Forwandered and walked in this forest. Angel Rise vppe, and slepe na mare, THou makist her herte full sare THat loues the alther best. Joseph We, now es this a farly fare For to be cached bathe here and thare, And nowhere may haue rest. Say, what arte thou? Telle me this thyng. Angel I, Gabriell, Goddis aungell full euen THat has tane Marie to my kepyng, And sente es the to say with steuen In lele wedlak thou lede the. Leffe hir noyot, I forbid the, Na syn of hir thou neuen, But tille hir fast thou spede the And of hir noght thou drede the, It is Goddis sande of heuen. The childe that sall be borne of her, Itt is consayued of the haly gast. Alle joie and blisse than sall be aftir, And to al mankynde nowe althir mast. Jesus his name thou calle, For slike happe sall hym fall Als thou sall se in haste. His pepull saffe he sall Of euyllis and angris all, THat thei ar nowe enbraste. Joseph And is this soth, aungell, thou saise? Angel Yha, and this to taken right: Wende forthe to Marie thy wiffe alwayse, Brynge hir to Bedlem this ilke nyght. Ther sall a childe borne be, Goddis sone of heuen is hee And man ay mast of myght. Joseph Now lorde God full wele is me That euyr that I this sight suld see, I was neuer ar so light. For for I walde haue hir thus refused, And sakles blame that ay was clere, Me bus pray hir halde me excused, Als som men dose with full gud chere. Saie Marie, wiffe, how fares thou? Mary THe bettir sir, for yhou. Why stande yhe thare? Come nere. Joseph My bakke fayne wolde I bowe And aske forgifnesse nowe, Wiste I thou wolde me here. Mary Forgiffnesse sir? Late be, for shame, Slike wordis suld all gud women lakke. Joseph Yha, Marie, I am to blame For wordis lang-are I to the spak. But gadir same nowe all oure gere, Slike poure wede as we were, And prike tham in a pak. Till Bedlem bus me it bere, For litill thyng will women dere; Helpe vp nowe on my bak. Play 14Joseph All-weldand God in trinité, I praye the lord, for thy grete myght, Vnto thy symple seruand see, Here in this place wher we are pight, Oureself allone. Lord, graunte vs gode herberow this nyght Within this wone. For we haue sought bothe vppe and doune Thurgh diuerse stretis in this cité. So mekill pepull is comen to towne THat we can nowhare herbered be, THere is slike prees; Forsuthe I can no socoure see, But belde vs with there bestes. And yf we here all nyght abide We schall be stormed in this steede, THe walles are doune on ilke a side, THe ruffe is rayued aboven oure hede, Als haue I roo; Say Marie, doughtir, what is thy rede, How sall we doo? For in grete nede nowe are we stedde As thou thyselffe the soth may see, For here is nowthir cloth ne bedde, And we are weyke and all werie And fayne wolde rest. Now gracious God, for thy mercie, Wisse vs the best. Mary God will vs wisse, full wele witt yoe, THerfore Joseph be of gud chere, For in this place borne will he be THat sall vs saue fro sorowes sere, Bothe even and morne. Sir, witte yoe wele the tyme is nere He will be borne. Joseph THan behoves vs bide here stille, Here in this same place all this nyght. Mary YOa sir, forsuth it is Goddis will. Joseph THan wolde I fayne we had sum light, What so befall. It waxis right myrke vnto my sight, And colde withall. I will go gete vs light forthy, And fewell fande with me to bryng. Mary All-weldand God yow gouerne and gy, As he is sufferayne of all thyng For his grete myght, And lende me grace to his louyng THat I me dight. Nowe in my sawle grete joie haue I, I am all cladde in comforte clere, Now will be borne of my body Both God and man togedir in feere, Blist mott he be. Jesu my sone that is so dere, Nowe borne is he. Hayle my lord God, hayle prince of pees, Hayle my fadir, and hayle my sone; Hayle souereyne sege all synnes to sesse, Hayle God and man in erth to wonne. Hayle, thurgh whos myht All this worlde was first begonne, Merknes and light. Sone, as I am sympill sugett of thyne, Vowchesaffe, swete sone I pray the, That I myght the take in the armys of myne And in this poure wede to arraie the. Graunte me thi blisse, As I am thy modir chosen to be In sothfastnesse. Joseph A, lorde God what the wedir is colde, THe fellest freese that euere I felyd. I pray God helpe tham that is alde And namely tham that is vnwelde, So may I saie. Now gud God thou be my bilde As thou best may. A, lord God, what light is this THat comes shynyng thus sodenly? I can not saie als haue I blisse. When I come home vnto Marie THan sall I spirre. A, here be God, for nowe come I. Mary YOe ar welcum sirre. Joseph Say Marie, doghtir, what chere with the? Mary Right goode Joseph, as has ben ay. Joseph O Marie, what swete thyng is that on thy kne? Mary It is my sone, the soth to saye, THat is so gud. Joseph Wele is me I bade this day To se this foode. Me merueles mekill of this light THat thus-gates shynes in this place, Forsuth it is a selcouth sight. Mary THis hase he ordand of his grace, My sone so yoing, A starne to be schynyng a space At his bering. For Balam tolde ful longe beforne How that a sterne shulde rise full hye, And of a maiden shulde be borne A sonne that sall oure saffyng be Fro caris kene. Forsuth it is my sone so free Be whame Balam gon meene. Joseph Nowe welcome, floure fairest of hewe, I shall the menske with mayne and myght. Hayle my maker, hayle Crist Jesu, Hayle riall kyng, roote of all right, Hayle saueour. Hayle my lorde, lemer of light, Hayle blessid floure. Mary Nowe lord that all this worlde schall wynne, To the my sone is that I saye, Here is no bedde to laye the inne, THerfore my dere sone I the praye, Sen it is soo, Here in this cribbe I myght the lay Betwene ther bestis two. And I sall happe the, myn owne dere childe, With such clothes as we haue here. Joseph O Marie, beholde thes beestis mylde, They make louyng in ther manere As thei wer men. Forsothe it semes wele be ther chere THare lord thei ken. Mary Ther lorde thai kenne, that wate I wele, They worshippe hym with myght and mayne; The wedir is colde as ye may feele, To halde hym warme thei are full fayne With thare warme breth, And oondis on hym, is noght to layne, To warme hym with. O, nowe slepis my sone, blist mot he be, And lyes full warme ther bestis bytwene. Joseph O, nowe is fulfillid, forsuth I see, THat Abacuc in mynde gon mene And prechid by prophicie. He saide oure sauyoure shall be sene Betwene bestis lye, And nowe I see the same in sight. Mary YOa sir, forsuth the same is he. Joseph Honnoure and worshippe both day and nyght, Ay-lastand lorde, be done to the Allway, as is worthy; And lord, to thy seruice I oblissh me With all myn herte, holy. Mary THou mercyfull maker, most myghty, My God, my lorde, my sone so free, Thy handemayden forsoth am I, And to thi seruice I oblissh me, With all myn herte entere. Thy blissing, beseke I thee, THou graunte vs all in feere. Play 15Pastor 1 Bredir, in haste takis heede and here What I wille speke and specifie; Sen we walke thus, withouten were, What mengis my moode nowe meve yt will I. Oure forme-fadres faythfull in fere, Bothe Osye and Isaye, Preued that a prins withouten pere Shulde descende doune in a lady, And to make mankynde clerly, To leche tham that are lorne. And in Bedlem hereby Sall that same barne by borne. Pastor 2 Or he be borne in burgh hereby, Balaham, brothir, me haue herde say, A sterne shulde schyne and signifie With lightfull lemes like any day. And als the texte it tellis clerly By witty lerned men of oure lay, With his blissid bloode he shulde vs by, He shulde take here al of a maye. I herde my syre saye, When he of hir was borne, She shulde be als clene maye As euer she was byforne. Pastor 3 A, mercifull maker, mekill is thy myght, That thus will to thi seruauntes see, Might we ones loke vppon that light Gladder bretheren myght no men be. I haue herde say, by that same light The childre of Israell shulde be made free, The force of the feende to felle in fighte, And all his pouer excluded shulde be. Wherfore, brether, I rede that wee Flitte faste ouere thees felles, To frayste to fynde oure fee, And talke of sumwhat ellis. Pastor 1 We, Hudde! Pastor 2 We, howe? Pastor 1 Herkyn to me. Pastor 2 We, man, thou maddes all out of myght. Pastor 1 We, Colle! Pastor 3 What care is comen to the? Pastor 1 Steppe furth and stande by me right, And telle me than Yf thou sawe euere swilke a sight. Pastor 3 I? Nay, certis, nor neuere no man. Pastor 2 Say felowes, what, fynde yhe any feest, Me falles for to haue parte, pardé! Pastor 1 Whe, Hudde, behalde into the heste, A selcouthe sight than sall thou see Vppon the skye. Pastor 2 We, telle me men, emang vs thre, Whatt garres yow stare thus sturdely? Pastor 3 Als lange as we haue herde-men bene And kepid this catell in this cloghe, So selcouth a sight was neuere non sene. Pastor 1 We, no Colle. Nowe comes it newe inowe, THat mon we fynde [... ...] Pastor 3 Itt menes some meruayle vs emang, Full hardely I you behete. Pastor 1 What it shulde mene that wate not yoee, For all that yoe can gape and gone. I can synge itt alls wele as hee, And on asaie itt sall be sone Proued or we passe. Yf yoe will helpe, late see, halde on, For thus it was: Pastor 2 Ha! Ha! this was a mery note, Be the dede that I sall dye, I haue so crakid in my throte THat my lippis are nere drye. Pastor 3 I trowe thou royse, For what it was fayne witte walde I That tille vs made this noble noyse. Pastor 1 An aungell brought vs tythandes newe A babe in Bedlem shulde be borne, Of whom than spake oure prophicie trewe- And bad us mete hym thare this morne- THat mylde of mode. I walde giffe hym bothe hatte and horne And I myght fynde that frely foode. Pastor 3 Hym for to fynde has we no drede, I sall you telle achesoune why: YOone sterne to that lorde sall vs lede. Pastor 2 YOa, thou sais soth. Go we forthy Hym to honnour, And make myrthe and melody, With sange to seke oure savyour. Pastor 1 Breder, bees all blythe and glad, Here is the burgh ther we shulde be. Pastor 2 In that same steede now are we stadde, Tharefore I will go seke and see. Slike happe of heele neuere herde-men hadde; Loo, here is the house, and here is hee. Pastor 3 YOa forsothe, this is the same, Loo whare that lorde is layde Betwyxe two bestis tame, Right als the aungell saide. Pastor 1 The aungell saide that he shulde saue This worlde and all that wonnes therin, Therfore yf I shulde oght aftir crave To wirshippe hym I will begynne: Sen I am but a symple knave, THof all I come of curtayse kynne, Loo here slyke harnays as I haue- A baren-broche by a belle of tynne At youre bosom to be; And whenne yoe shall welde all Gud sonne, forgete noyot me Yf any fordele falle. Pastor 2 THou sonne that shall saue bothe see and sande, Se to me sen I haue the soght; I am ovir poure to make presande Als myn harte wolde, and I had ought. Two cobill notis vppon a bande, Loo, litill babe, what I haue broght, And whan yoe sall be lorde in lande Dose goode agayne, forgete me noght, For I haue herde declared Of connyng clerkis and clene, That bountith askis rewarde; Nowe watte yoe what I mene. Pastor 3 Nowe loke on me, my lorde dere, THof all I putte me noght in pres, Ye are a prince withouten pere, I haue no presentte that you may plees. But lo, an horne spone that haue I here- And it will herbar fourty pese- THis will I giffe you with gud chere, Slike novelté may noght disease. Farewele thou swete swayne, God graunte vs levyng lange, And go we hame agayne And make mirthe as we gange. Play 16Herod The clowdes clapped in clerenes that ther clematis inclosis- Jubiter and Jouis, Martis and Mercurij emyde- Raykand ouere my rialté on rawe me reioyses, Blonderande ther blastis to blaw when I bidde. Saturne my subgett, that sotilly is hidde, Listes at my likyng and laies hym full lowe. The rakke of the rede skye full rappely I ridde, Thondres full thrallye by thousandes I thrawe When me likis. Venus his voice to me awe, THat princes to play in hym pikis. THe prince of planetis that proudely is pight Sall brace furth his bemes that oure belde blithes, THe mone at my myght he mosteres his myght, And kayssaris in castellis grete kyndynes me kythes. Lordis and ladis, loo, luffely me lithes, For I am fairer of face and fressher on folde- THe soth yf I saie sall-seuene and sexti sithis THan glorius gulles that gayer is than golde In price. How thynke yoe ther tales that I talde? I am worthy, witty, and wyse. Miles 1 All kynges to youre croune may clerly comende Youre lawe and youre lordshippe as lodsterne on hight; What traytoure vntrewe that will not attende, YOe sall lay thaim full lowe, fro leeme and fro light. Miles 2 What faitoure, in faithe, that dose yoou offende, We sall sette hym full sore, that sotte, in youre sight. Herod In welthe sall I wisse yoou to wonne or I wende, For yoe are wightis ful worthy, both witty and wighte. But yoe knawe wele, ser knyghtis in counsaill full conande, THat my regioun so riall is ruled her be rest, For I wate of no wighte in this worlde that is wonnande THat in forges any felouné, with force sall be fest. Arest yoe tho rebaldes that vnrewly are rownand, Be they kyngis or knyghtis, in care yoe thaim cast, YOaa, and welde tham in woo to wonne, in the wanyand; What browle that is brawlyng his brayne loke yoe brest, And dynge yoe hym doune. Miles 1 Sir, what foode in faith will yoou feese, THat sott full sone myselfe sall hym sesse. Miles 2 We sall noght here doute to do hym disesse, But with countenaunce full cruell we sall crake her his croune. Herod My sone that is semely, howe semes the ther sawes? Howe comely ther knyghtis thei carpe in this case. Filius Fadir, if thai like noght to listyn youre lawes, As traytoures ontrewe ye sall teche them a trace, For fadir, vnkyndnes yoe kythe them no cause. Herod Faire falle the my faire sone, so fettis of face. And knyghtis, I comaunde, who to dule drawes, THas churles as cheueleres ye chastise and chase, And drede yoe no doute. Filius Fadir, I sall fell tham in fight, What renke that reves you youre right. Miles 1 With dyntes to dede bes he dight THat liste not youre lawes for to lowte. Rex 1 A, lorde that levis, euerelastande light, I loue the evir with harte and hande, That me has made to se this sight Whilke my kynrede was coveytande. Thay saide a sterne with lemys bright Owte of the eest shulde stabely stande, And that it shulde meffe mekill myght Of one that shulde be lorde in lande, That men of synne shulde saff. And certis I sall saye, God graunte me happe to haue Wissyng of redy waye. Rex 2 All-weldand God that all has wroght, I worshippe the als is worthye, That with thy brightnes has me broght Owte of my reame, riche Arabie. I shall noght seys tille I haue sought What selcouth thyng it sall syngnyfie, God graunte me happe so that I myght Haue grace to gete goode companye, And my comforte encrese With thy sterne schynyng shene; For certis, I sall noght cesse Tille I witte what it mene. Rex 3 Lorde God that all goode has bygonne And all may ende, both goode and euyll, That made for man both mone and sonne, And stedde yone sterne to stande stone stille, Tille I the cause may clerly conne, God wisse me with his worthy wille. I hope I haue her felaws fonne My yarnyng fathfully to fullfille. Sirs, God yowe saffe ande see, And were yoow euere fro woo. Rex 1 Amen, so myght it bee, And saffe yow sir, also. Rex 3 Sirs, with youre wille, I wolde yow praye To telle me some of youre entent, Whedir ye wende forthe in this way, And fro what contré yoe are wente? Rex 2 Full gladly sir I shall yoou say. A sodayne sight was till vs sente, A royall sterne that rose or day Before vs on the firmament, THat garte vs fare fro home Som poynte therof to preffe. Rex 3 Sertis syrs, I sawe the same THat makis vs thus to moyfe; For sirs, I haue herde saye sertayne Itt shulde be seyne of selcowthe seere, And ferther therof I wolde freyne; That makis me moffe in this manere. Rex 1 Sir, of felashippe are we fayne, Now sall we wende forth all in feere, God graunte vs or we come agayne Som gode hartyng therof to here. Sir, here is Jerusalem To wisse vs als we goo, And beyonde is Bedleem, THer schall we seke alsoo. Rex 3 Sirs, yoe schall wele vndirstande, For to be wise nowe were it nede; Sir Herowde is kyng of this lande And has his lawes her for to leede. Rex 1 Sir, sen we neghe now thus nerhand, Vntill his helpe vs muste take heede, For haue we his wille and his warande THan may we wende withouten drede. Rex 2 To haue leve of the lorde, THat is resoune and skyll. Rex 3 And therto we all accorde, Wende we and witte his wille. Nuncius My lorde ser Herowde, kyng with croune! Herod Pees dastarde, in the deueles dispite. Nuncius My lorde, now note is nere this towne. Herod What, false harlott, liste the flight? Go betis yone boy and dyngis hym downe. Miles 2 Lorde, messengeres shulde no man wyte, It may be for youre awne renoune. Herod THat wolde I here, do telle on tyte. Nuncius My lorde, I mette at morne Thre kyngis carpand togedir Of a barne that is borne, And thei hight to come hiddir. Herod Thre kyngis, forsoth? Nuncius Sir, so I say, For I saw thaim myselffe all fere. Consolator 1 My lorde, appose hym I you pray. Herod Say felowe, are they ferre or nere? Nuncius Mi lorde, thei will be here this day, THat wote I wele, withouten were. Herod Do rewle vs than in riche array, And ilke man make tham mery chere, THat no sembelant be sene But frendshippe faire and still, Till we witte what thei mene, Whedir it be gud or ill. Rex 1 The lorde that lenes ay-lastand light Whilke has vs ledde owte of oure lande, Kepe the, ser kynge and comely knyght And all thy folke that we her fynde. Herod Mahounde, my god and most of myght, THat has myn hele all in his hande, He saffe you sirs, semely in sight; And telle vs nowe som new tithand. Rex 2 Some sall we saie yoou sir- A sterne stode vs beforne, That makis vs speke and spir Of one that is new-borne. Herod New-borne? THat burden halde I bad; And certis, vnwitty men ye wore Nuncius Mi lorde ser Herowde, kyng with croune! Herod Pees dastard, in the deueles dispite. Nuncius Sir, new nott is full nere this towne. Herod What, false losell, liste the flighte? Go bette both and dyng tham downe. Miles 2 Lorde, messengers shulde no man wyte, It may be for youre awne rennowne. Herod That wolde I here, telle on tyte. Nuncius Mi lorde, I mette at morne Iij kyngis carpand togedir Of one that is nowe borne, And thai hight to come hedir. Herod Thre kyngis, forsothe? Nuncius Sir, so I saie, For I saughe them myself all feere. Consolator 1 My lorde, appose hym we yow praye. Herod Say felowe, ar they ferre or nere? Nuncius Mi lorde, thei will be here this day, THat wotte I wele, withouten were. Herod Haue done. Dresse vs in riche array, And ilke man make tham mery chere, That no sembland be seene But frenshippe faire and stille, Tille we wete what thei meene, Whedir it be gud or ill. Rex 1 The lorde that lenys this lastand light Whilke has vs ledde oute of oure lande, Kepe the, sir kyng and comly knyght, And all thi folke that we here fande. Herod Mahounde, my god and most of myght, THat has myn hele all in his hande, He saffe you sirs, semely in sight; And telle vs nowe som new tythande. Rex 2 Sum shall we saie sir- A sterne stud vs byforne, That makis vs speke and spir Of ane that is nowe-borne. Herod Nowe-borne? THat birthe halde I badde; And certis, vnwitty men yoe werre To leppe ouere lande to laite a ladde. Say, whan loste yoe hym? Ought lange before? All wise men will wene yoe madde And therfore moves this neuer more. Rex 3 YOis certis, swilke hertyng haue we hadde We will not cesse or we come thore. Herod This were a wondir-thyng. Saie, what barne shulde that be? Rex 1 Forsoth, he sall be kynge Of Jewes and of Judé. Herod Kyng? In the deueles name, dogges, fye! Nowe se I wele yoe roye and raue. Be any skemeryng of the skye When shulde ye knawe outhir kyng or knave? Filius Naye, he is kyng and non but he, THat sall yoe kenne if that yoe craue, And he is jugge of all Jurie, To speke or spille, to saie or saffe. Herod Swilke gawdes may gretely greue, To witnesse that nere was. Rex 2 Nowe lorde, we axe but leve Be youre poure to passe. Herod Whedirward, in the deuelis name? To layte a ladde here in my lande? Fals harlottis, bot yhe hye yoou hame YOe sall be bette and bune in bande. Consolator 2 Mi lorde, to fell this foule defame, Late alle there hye wordis falle on hande, And spere thaim sadly of the same, So sall yoe stabely vndirstande THaire mynde and ther menyng, And takes gud tente therto. Herod I thanke the of thys thing, And certis so sall I doo. Nowe kyngis, to cache all care awaye Sen yoe are comen oute of youre kyth, Loke noght ye legge agaynste oure laye, Vppon payne to lose both lymme and lith. To lepe ouere lande to late a ladde. Say, when lost yoe hym? Ought lange before? All wyse men will wene yoe madde And therfore moffis it neuere more. Rex 3 YOis certis, such hartyng haue we hadde We schall noyot seys or we come thore. Herod This were a wondir-thyng. Say, what barne shulde that be? Rex 1 Sir, he shall be kyng Of Jewes and of Judé. Herod Kyng? In the deuyl way, dogges, fy! Now I se wele yoe rothe and raue. Be ony skymeryng of the skye When shulde yoe knawe owthir kyng or knave? Nay, I am kyng and non but I, That shall yoe kenne yff that yoe craue, And I am juge of all Jury, To speke or spille, to saie or saffe. Swilke gawdes may gretely greue, To wittenesse that neuere was. Rex 2 Lorde, we aske noght but leue Be youre poure to passe. Herod Whedir, in the deuyls name? To late a ladde here in my lande? Fals harlottis, but yoe hye you hame YOe shall be bette and boune in bande. Consolator 2 My lorde, to felle this foule deffame, Lattis all such wondir falle on hande, And speres thaim sadly of the same, So shall yoe stabely vndirstande THer mynde and ther menyng, And takis gud tente tham too. Herod I thanke the of this thyng, And certis so will I doo. Nowe kyngis, to cache all care away Sen yoe ar comen oute of youre kytht, Loke noght ye legge agayne oure lay, Uppon peyne to lose both lyme and litht. And so that yoe the soth will saye To come and go I graunte you grith, And yf youre poyntes be to my paye May fall myselfe sall wende yoou with. Rex 1 Sir kyng, we all accorde, And sais a barne is borne THat sall be kyng and lorde, And leche tham that ar lorne. Rex 2 Sir, ye thar meruaylle nothynge Of this ilke noote that thusgattes newes, For Balaham saide a starne shulde sprynge Of Jacob kynde, and that is Jewes. Rex 3 Isaie sais a maiden yonge Sall bere a barne emange Ebrewes, THat of all contrees sal be kynge And gouerne all that on erthe grewes; Emanuell beiths his name, To say, `Goddis sone of heuené, And certis this is the same THat we here to you neuen. Rex 1 Sir, the proued prophete Ossee Full trewly tolde in towne and toure, A maiden of Israell, forsoth saide he, Sall bere oone like to lilly floure. He menes a childe consayued sall be Withouten seede of mannys socoure, And his modir a mayden free, And he both sonne and saueour. Rex 2 That fadres talde me beforne Has no man myght to marre. Herod Allas, than am I lorne, THis wax ay werre and werre. Consolator 1 My lorde, be yoe nothyng abast, THis brigge tille ende sall wele be broght. Byde tham go furth and frendly frayste THe soth of this that thei haue soght, And telle it yoou-soo sall yoe traste Whedir ther tales be trewe or noght. And so that yoe the soth will saye To come and goo I graunte yow grith, And yf youre poynte be to my pay May falle myselfe shall wende you with. Rex 1 Sir kyng, we all accorde, And says a barne is borne THat shall be kyng and lorde, And leche tham that ar lorne. Rex 2 Sir, the thar meruayle nothyng Of this ilke nott that thus-gate newes, For Balaham saide a starne shulde spring Of Jacobe kynde, and that is Jewes. Rex 3 Sir, Isaie sais a mayden yoenge Shall bere a sone amonge Ebrewes, THat of all contrees shall be kyng And gouerne all that on erthe grewes; Emanuell shal be his name, To saie, `God sone of heuen', And certis this is the same THat we now to you neven. Rex 1 Sirs, the proved prophete Osee Full trulye talde in towne and toure, THat a mayden of Israell, sais he, Shall bere one like to the lely floure. He menys a barne consayued shulde be Withouten seede of man socour, And is modir a mayden free, And he both sone and saueour. Rex 2 THat fadirs has talde beforne Has no man myght to marre. Herod Allas, than am I lorne, THis waxith ay werre and werre. Consolator 1 My lorde, be yoe nothyng abast, THis bryge shall well to ende be broght. Bidde tham go furthe and frendly frast THe soth of this that thei haue soght, And telle it yoou-so shall yoe trast Whedir ther tales be trew or noght. THan sall yoe waite thaim with a wraste And make all waste that thei haue wroght. Herod Nowe certis, this is wele saide, This matere makes me fayne. Sir kyngis, I halde me paied Off all youre purpose playne. Wende furth youre forward to fulfill, To Bedlem is but here at hande; And speris grathely both gud and ille Of hym that shulde be lorde in lande; And comes agayne than me vntill And telle me trulye youre tithande- To worshippe hym than were my will, THis sall ye stabely vndirstande. Rex 2 Certis ser, we sall you say THe soth of that same childe, In all the haste we may. Consolator 2 Fares wele-ye be bygilyd. Herod Now certis, this is a sotell trayne. Nowe sall thai trulye take there trace, And telle me of that swytteron swayne, And all thare counsaille in this case. Giffe itt be soth thai shall be slayne, No golde shall gete them bettir grace; Bot go we tille they come agayne And playe vs in som othir place. This holde I gude counsaill, Yitt wolde I na man wiste; For certis, we shall noght faile To lose tham as vs liste. Than shall we wayte tham with a wrest And make all wast that thei haue wroght. Herod Nowe certis, this was wele saide, THis matere makes me fayne. Sir kyngis, I halde me paide Of all youre purpose playne. Wendis furth youre forward to fulfill, To Bedlem, it is but here at hande; And speris grathe bothe goode and ill Of hym that shulde be lorde in lande; And comes agayne than me vntill And telle me trulye youre tythande- To worshippe hym, that is my will, THus shall yoe stabely vndirstande. Rex 2 Sertis syr, we sall you say Alle the soth of that childe, In alle the hast that we may. Consolator 2 Fares wele-yoe be bygilid. Herod Nowe certis, this is a sotille trayne. Nowe shall thei trewly take ther trace, And telle me of that littil swayne, And ther counsaill in this case. If it be soth thei shall be slayne, No golde shall gete tham bettir grace. Go we nowe till thei come agayne To playe vs in som othir place. This halde I gud counsaill, Yitt wolde I no man wist; For sertis, we shall not faill To loyse tham as vs list. Rex 1 A, sirs, for sight what shall I say? Whare is oure syne? I se it noth. Rex 2 No more do I. Nowe dar I lay In oure wendyng som wrange is wroght. Rex 3 Vnto that prince I rede we praye, That till vs sente his syngne vnsoght, THat he wysse vs in redy way So frendly that we fynde hym moght. Rex 1 A, siris, I se it stande Aboven where he is borne, Lo, here is the house at hande, We haue noyot myste this morne. Ancilla Whame seke yoe syrs, be wayes wilde, With talkyng, trauelyng to and froo? Her wonnes a woman with hir childe And hir husband, her ar no moo. Rex 2 We seke a barne that all shall bylde, His sartayne syngne hath saide vs soo, And his modir, a mayden mylde, Her hope we to fynde tham twoo. Ancilla Come nere gud syirs and see, Youre way to ende is broght. Rex 3 Behalde here syirs, her and se THe same that yoe haue soght. Rex 1 Loved be that lorde that lastis aye, THat vs has kydde thus curtaysely To wende by many a wilsom way, And come to this clene companye. Rex 2 Late vs make nowe no more delay, But tyte take furth oure tresurry And ordand giftis of gud aray, To worshippe hym als is worthy. Rex 3 He is worthy to welde All worshippe, welthe, and wynne; And for honnoure and elde Brother, yoe shall begynne. Rex 1 Hayle, the fairest of felde, folke for to fynde, Fro the fende and his feeres faithefully vs fende; Hayll, the best that shall be borne to vnbynde All the barnes that are borne and in bale bende. Hayll, thou marc us thi men and make vs in mynde, Sen thi myght is on molde misseis to amende. Hayll, clene that is comen of a kynges kynde, And shall be kyng of this kyth, all clergy has kende. And sith it shall worthe on this wise, Thyselffe haue I soght sone, I say the, With golde that is grettest of price; Be paied of this present I pray the. Rex 2 Hayll, foode that thy folke fully may fede, Hayll floure fairest, that neuer shall fade, Hayll, sone that is sente of this same sede THat shall saue vs of synne that oure syris had. Hayll mylde, for thou mett to marke vs to mede, Off a may makeles thi modir thou made; In that gude thurgh grace of thy Godhede Als the gleme in the glasse gladly thow glade. And sythyn thow shall sitte to be demand, To helle or to heuen for to haue vs, Insens to thi seruis is semand. Sone, se to thi suggettis and saue vs. Rex 3 Hayll barne that is best oure balys to bete, For our boote shall thou be bounden and bett; Hayll frende faithtfull, we fall to thy feete, Thy fadiris folke fro the fende to the fette. Hayll, man that is made to thi men mette, Sen thou and thy modir with mirthis ar mette; Hayll duke that dryues dede vndir fete, But whan thy dedys ar done to dye is thi dette. And sen thy body beryed shal be, This mirre will I giffe to thi grauyng. The gifte is noght grete of degree, Ressayue it, and se to oure sauyng. Mary Sir kyngis, yoe trauel not in vayne. Als yoe haue ment, hyr may yoe fynde, For I consayued my sone sartayne Withouten misse of man in mynde, And bare hym here withouten payne, Where women ar wonte to be pynyd. Goddis aungell in his gretyng playne Saide he shulde comforte al mankynde, Tharfore doute yow no dele Here for to haue youre bone, I shall witnesse full wele All that is saide and done. Rex 1 For solas ser now may we synge, All is parformed that we for prayde; But gud barne, giffe vs thy blissing, For faire happe is before the laide. Rex 2 Wende we nowe to Herowde the kyng For of this poynte he will be paied, And come hymselffe and make offeryng Vnto this same, for so he saide. Rex 3 I rede we reste a thrawe, For to maynteyne our myght, And than do as we awe, Both vnto kyng and knyght. Angel Nowe curtayse kynges, to me take tent And turne betyme or yoe be tenyd, Fro God hymselfe thus am I sent To warne yow als youre faithfull frende. Herowde the kyng has malise ment And shappis with shame yow for to shende, And for that yoe non harmes shulde hente, Be othir waies God will ye wende Euen to youre awne contré. And yf yoe aske hym bone, Youre beelde ay will he be For this that yoe haue done. Rex 1 A, lorde, I loue the inwardly. Sirs, God has gudly warned vs thre, His aungell her now herde haue I, And how he saide. Rex 2 Sir, so did we. He saide Herowde is oure enmye, And makis hym bowne oure bale to be With feyned falsed, and forthy Farre fro his force I rede we flee. Rex 3 Syrs, faste I rede we flitte, Ilkone till oure contré, He that is welle of witte Vs wisse, and with yow be. Play 17Prisbeter Almyghty God in heven so hy, The maker of all heven and erth, He ordenyd here all thynges evenly, For man he ment to mend his myrth. In nomber, weight, and mesure fyne God creat here al thyng, I say, His lawes he bad men shulde not tyne, But kepe his commandmentes allway. In the mount of Syney full fayre, And in two tabyls to you to tell, His lawes to Moyses tuke God there To geve to the chylder of Israell, That Moyses shuld theme gyde alway, And lerne theme lely to knowe Goddes wyll, And that he shulde not it denay, But kepe his lawes stable and styll. For payn that he hadd putt therefore, To stone all theme that kepis it nott Vtterly to death, both lesse and moore; There shulde no marcy for them be soght. Therefore kepe well Goddes commandement, And leyd your lyf after his lawes, Or ells surely ye mon be shent Bothe lesse and moore, ylkone on rawes. This is his wyll after Moyses lawe: That ye shulde bryng your beistes good And offer theme here your God to knawe, And frome your synns to turne your moode. Suche beestes as God hais marked here, Vnto Moyses he spake as I yow tell, And bad hyme boldly with good chere, To say to the chylder of Israell That after dyvers seknes seer And after dyvers synes alsoo, Go bryng your beestes to the preest even here To offer theme vp in Goddes sight, loo. The woman that hais borne her chylde, She shall comme hether at the forty day To be puryfied where she was fylde, And bryng with her a lame, I say, And two dove-byrdes for her offerand, And take them to the preest of lay To offer theme vp with his holy hand; There shulde no man to this say nay. The lame is offeryd for Goddes honour In sacrefyes all onely dight, And the preistes prayer purchace secure For the woman that was fylyd in God sight. And yf so be that she be power And haue no lame to offer, than Two tyrtle-doves to Godes honoure To bryng with her for her offrand. Loo, here am I preest present alway, To resave all offerandes that hydder is broght, And for the people to God to pray That helth and lyfe to theme be wroght. Anna Here in this holy playce I say Is my full purpose to abyde, To serve my God bothe nyght and day With prayer and fastyng in ever-ylk a tyde. For I haue beyn a wyddo this threscore yere And foure yere to, the truthe to tell, And here I haue terryed with full good chere For the redempcyon of Israell. And so for my holy conversacion Grete grace to me hais nowe God sent, To tell by profecy for mans redempcion What shall befall by Goddes intent. I tell you all here in this place, By Godes vertue in prophecy, That one is borne to oure solace, Here to be present securely Within short space, Of his owen mother, a madyn free, Of all vyrgens moost chaist suthly, The well of mekenes, blyssed myght she be, Moost full of grace. And Symeon, that senyour That is so semely in Godes sight, He shall hyme se and do honour And in his armes he shall hym plight, That worthy leyd. Of the holy goost he shall suthly Take strength, and answere when he shall hy Furth to this temple and place holy To do that deyd. Symeon A, blyssed God, thowe be my beylde And beat my baill bothe nyght and day, In hevynes my hart is hylde, Vnto myself, loo thus I say. For I ame wayke and all vnwelde, My welth ay wayns and passeth away, Whereso I fayre in fyrth or feylde I fall ay downe for febyll, in fay. In fay I fall whereso I fayre, In hayre and hewe and hyde I say. Owte of this worlde I wolde I were, Thus wax I warr and warr alway And my myscheyf growes in all that may. Bot thowe myghty lorde my mornyng mar; Mar ye, for it shulde me well pay, So happy to se hyme yf I warr. Nowe certys then shulde my gamme begynne And I myght se hyme, of hyme to tell, That one is borne withouten synne And for mankynde mans myrth to mell. Borne of a woman and madyn fre, As wytnesse Davyt and Danyell, Withouten synne or velanye, As said also Isacheell. And Melachiell that proffett snell Hais tolde vs of that babb so bright, That he shulde comme with vs to dwell In our temple as leme of light. And other proffettes prophesieth And of this blyssed babb dyd mell, And of his mother, a madyn bright, In prophecy the truth gan tell, That he shulde comme and harro hell As a gyant grathly to glyde, And fersly the feyndes malles to fell And putt there poors all on syde. The worthyest wight in this worlde so wyde His vertues seer no tong can tell, He sendes all soccour in ylke tyde As redemption of Israell. Thus say they all, There patryarkes and ther prophettes clere: `A babb is borne to be oure fere, Knytt in oure kynde for all our chere To grete and small'. Ay, well were me for ever and ay If I myght se that babb so bright Or I were buryed here in clay, Then wolde my cors here mend in myght Right faithfully. Nowe lorde, thowe grant to me thy grace To lyf here in this worlde a space, That I myght se that babb in his face Here or I dy. A, lorde God, I thynke may I endure, Trowe we that babb shall fynde me here; Nowe certys with aige I ame so power That ever it abaites my chere. Yet yf kynde fale for aige in me, God yett may length my lyfe suthly, Tyll I that babb and foode so free Haue seyn in sight. For trewly, yf I wyst relesse Thare shulde nothyng my hart dyseas; Lorde, len me grace yf that thowe pleas And make me light. When wyll thowe comme babb? Let se, haue done; Nay, comme on tyte and tarry nott, For certys my lyf-days are nere done, For aige to me grete wo hais wroght. Great wo is wroght vnto mans harte Whan he muste want that he wolde haue; I kepe no longar to haue quarte For I haue seen that I for crave. A, trowes thowe these ij eyes shall see That blyssed babb or they be owte? Ye, I pray God so myght it be- Then were I putt all owte of dowte. Angel Olde Symeon, Gods seruaunt right, Bodworde to the I bryng I say, For the holy goost moost of myght, He says thowe shall not dye away To thowe haue seen Jesu the babb that Mary bare, For all mankynde to slake there care. He shall do comforth to lesse and mayr, Both morne and even. Symeon A, lorde, gramarcy nowe I say That thowe this grace hais to me hight, Or I be buryed here in clay To se that semely beam so bright. No man of molde may haue more happ To my solace and myrth allway, Than for to se that Mary lapp Jesu my joy and savyour ay, Blyssyd be his name. Loo, nowe mon I se, the truth to tell, The redempcion of Israell, Jesu my lorde Emanuell, Withouten blame. Mary Joseph my husbonde and my feer, Ye take to me grathely entent, I wyll you showe in this manere What I wyll do, thus haue I ment: Full xl days is comme and went Sens that my babb Jesu was borne, Therefore I wolde he were present As Moyses lawes sais hus beforne, Here in this temple before Goddes sight As other women doith in feer, So methynke good skyll and right The same to do nowe with good chere, After Goddes sawe. Joseph Mary my spowse and madyn clene, This matter that thowe moves to me Is for all these women bedene That hais conceyved with syn fleshely To bere a chylde. The lawe is ledgyd for theme right playn, That they muste be puryfied agayne, For in mans pleasoure for certayn Before were they fylyd. But Mary, byrde, thowe neyd not soo For this cause to be puryfiede, loo, In Goddes temple. For certys thowe arte a clene vyrgyn For any thoght thy harte within, Nor never wroght no flesly synne Nor never yll. Mary That I my madenheade hais kept styll It is onely throgh Godds wyll, That be ye bold. Yett to fulfyll the lawe ewysse, That God almyghty gon expresse, And for a sample of mekenesse Offer I wolde. Joseph A, Mary, blyssed be thowe ay, Thowe thynkes to do after Goddes wyll, As thowe haist said Mary, I say, I will hartely consent theretyll Withouten dowte. Wherefore we dresse vs furth oure way And make offerand to God this day, Even lykwyse as thyself gon say With hartes devowte. Mary Therto am I full redy dight, But one thyng Joseph I wolde you meyve. Joseph Mary my spouse and madyn bright, Tell on hartely, what is your greyf? Mary Both beest and fewll hus muste neydes haue, As a lambe and ij dove-byrdes also. Lame haue we none nor none we crave, Therefore Joseph what shall we do, What is your read? And we do not as custome is, We are worth to be blamyd iwysse, I wolde we dyd nothyng amys As God me speyd. Joseph A, good Mary, the lawe is this: To riche to offer bothe the lame and the byrd, And the poore ij tyrtles iwys. Or two doyf-byrdes shall not be fyrd For our offerand; And Mary, we haue doyf-byrdes two As falls for hus, therefore we goo- They ar here in a panyer, loo, Reddy at hand. And yf we haue not both in feer, The lame, the burd, as ryche men haue, Thynke that vs muste present here Oure babb Jesus, as we voutsaue Before Godes sight. He is our lame Mary, kare the not, For riche and power none better soght; Full well thowe hais hym hither broght, This our offerand right. He is the lame of God I say, That all our syns shall take away Of this worlde here. He is the lame of God verray That muste hus fend frome all our fray, Borne of thy wombe, all for our pay And for our chere. Mary Joseph my spowse, ye say full trewe, Than lett vs dresse hus furth our way. Joseph Go we than Mary, and do oure dewe, And make meekly offerand this day. Lo, here is the tempyll on this hyll And also preest ordand by skyll, Power havand. And Mary, go we thyther forthy, And lett vs both knele devowtly, And offre we vp to God meekly Our dewe offrand. Mary Vnto my God highest in heven And to this preest ordand by skyll, Jesu my babb I offer hyme Here with my harte and my good wyll Right hartely. Thowe pray for hus to God on hyght Thowe preest, present here in his myght, At this deyd may be in his sight Accept goodly. Joseph Loo sir, and two doyf-byrddes ar here, Receyve them with your holy handes, We ar no better of power, For we haue neyther rentes ne landes Trewely. Bott good sir, pray to God of myght To accepte this at we haue dight, That we haue offeryd as we arr hight Here hartely. Prisbeter O God and graunter of all grace, Blyst be thy name both nyght and day, Accepte there offerand in this place That be here present to the alway. A, blyssed lorde, say never nay, But lett thys offerand be boot and beylde Tyll all such folke lyvand in clay, That thus to the mekly wyll heyld; That this babb lord, present in thy sight, Borne of a madyns wombe vnfylde, Accepte for there specyall gyft Gevyn to mankynde, both man and chylde, So specyally. And this babb borne and here present May beylde vs, that we be not shent, But ever reddy his grace to hent Here verely. A, blyssyd babb, welcome thowe be, Borne of a madyn in chaistety, Thowe art our beylde, babb, our gamme and our glee Ever sothly. Welcome oure wytt and our wysdome, Welcome, our joy all and somme, Welcomme redemptour omnium Tyll hus hartely. Anna Welcome blyssed Mary and madyn ay, Welcome, mooste meke in thyne array; Welcome bright starne that shyneth bright as day, All for our blys. Welcome, the blyssed beam so bryght, Welcome the leym of all oure light, Welcome that all pleasour hais plight To man and wyfe. Welcome thowe blyssed babb so free, Welcome oure welfayre wyelly And welcome all our seall, suthly, To grete and small. Babb, welcome to thy beyldly boure, Babb, welcome nowe for our soccoure, And babb, welcomme with all honour Here in this hall. Angel Olde Symeon, I say to the Dresse the furth in thyne array, Come to the temple, there shall thu see Jesus that babb that Mary barre, That be thowe bolde. Symeon A, lorde, I thanke the ever and ay, Nowe am I light as leyf on tree, My age is went, I feyll no fray, Methynke for this that is tolde me I ame not olde. Nowe wyll I to yon temple goo To se the babb that Mary bare, He is my helth in well and woo, And helps me ever frome great care. Haill blyssed babb that Mary bare, And blyssed be thy mother, Mary mylde, Whose wombe that yeildyd fresh and fayr And she a clean vyrgen ay vnfyld. Haill babb, the father of heven own chylde Chosen to chere vs for our myschance; No erthly tong can tell vnfylyd What thy myght is in every chance. Haill, the moost worthy to enhance, Boldly thowe beylde frome all yll, Withoute thy beylde we gytt grevance And for our deydes here shulde we spyll. Haill floscampy and flower vyrgynall, The odour of thy goodnes reflars to vs all. Haill, moost happy to great and to small For our weyll. Haill ryall roose, moost ruddy of hewe, Haill flour vnfadyng, both freshe ay and newe, Haill the kyndest in comforth that ever man knewe For grete heyll. And mekly I beseke the here where I kneyll To suffre thy servant to take the in hand, And in my narmes for to heue the here for my weyll, And where I bound am in bayll to bait all my bandes. Nowe come to me, lorde of all landes, Comme myghtyest by see and by sandes, Come myrth by strete and by strandes On moolde. Come halse me, the babb that is best born, Come halse me, the myrth of our morne, Come halse me, for ells I ame lorne For olde. I thanke the lord God of thy greet grace That thus haith sparyd me a space, This babb in my narmes for to inbrace As the prophecy telles. I thanke the that me my lyfe lent, I thanke the that me thus seyll sent, That this sweyt babb, that I in armes hent With myrth my myndes alwais melles. Mellyd are my myndes ay with myrth, Full fresh nowe I feyll is my force, Of thy grace thowe gave me this gyrth Thus comly to catch here thy corse Moost semely in sight. Of helpe thus thy freynd never faills, Thy marcy as every man avaylls, Both by downes and by daylls, Thus mervelous and muche is thy myght. A, babb, be thowe blyssed for ay, For thowe art my savyour I say And thowe here rewles me in fay, In all my lyfe. Nowe blist be thi name, For thowe saves hus fro shame, And here thou beyld vs fro blame And frome all stryfe. Nowe care I no moore for my lyfe Sen I haue seen here this ryall so ryfe, My strength and my stynter of stryfe I you say. In peace lorde nowe leyf thy servand For myne eys haith seyn that is ordand, The helth for all men that be levand Here for ay. That helth lorde hais thowe ordand I say Here before the face of thy people, And thy light hais thowe shynyd this day To be knowe of thy folke that was febyll For evermore. And thy glory for the chylder of Israell, That with the in thy kyngdome shall dwell Whan the damnyd shall be drevyn to hell Than with great care. Joseph Mary, my spowse and madyn mylde, In hart I marvell here greatly Howe these folke spekes of our chylde. They say and tells of great maistry That he shall doo. Mary Yea certes, Joseph, I marvell also, But I shall bere it full styll in mynde. Joseph God geve hyme grace here well to do, For he is comme of gentyll kynde. Symeon Harke Mary, I shall tell the the truth or I goo. This was putt here to welde vs fro wo, In redemption of many and recover also, I the say. And the sworde of sorro thy hart shal thyrll Whan thowe shall se sothly thy son soffer yll For the well of all wrytches, that shall be his wyll Here in fay. But to be comforth agayn right well thowe may, And in harte to be fayne, the suth I the say, For his myght is so muche thare can no tong say nay Here to his wyll. For this babb as a gyant full graythly shall glyde And the myghtiest mayster shall meve on ylke syde, To all the wightes that wons in this worlde wyde, For good or for yll. Tharefore babb, beylde vs that we here not spyll, And fayrwell the former of all at thy wyll, Fayrwell starne stabylyst by lowde and be styll, In suthfastnes. Fayrwell the ryolest roose that is renyng, Fayrwell the babb best in thy beryng, Fayrwell God son, thowe grant vs thy blyssyng To fyne our dystresse. Play 18Joseph Thow maker that is most of myght, To thy mercy I make my mone; Lord, se vnto this symple wight THat hase non helpe but the allone. For all this worlde I haue forsaken, And to thy seruice I haue me taken With witte and will For to fulfill THi commaundement. THeron myn herte is sette With grace thou has me lente, THare schall no lede me lette. For all my triste lorde is in the That made me man, to thy liknes. Thow myghtfull maker, haue mynde on me And se vnto my sympplenes. I waxe wayke as any wande, For febill me faylles both foote and hande; Whateuere it mene, Methynke myne eyne Hevye as leede. THerfore I halde it best A whille her in this stede To slepe and take my reste. Mary Thow luffely lord that last schall ay, My God, my lorde, my sone so dere, To thy Godhede hartely I pray With all myn harte holy entere. As thou me to thy modir chaas, I beseke the of thy grace For all mankynde THat has in mynde To wirshippe the. THou se thy saules to saue, Jesu my sone so free, THis bone of the I crave. Angel Wakyn Joseph, and take entent, My sawes schall seece thy sorowe sare. Be noght heuy, thi happe is hentte, THarefore I bidde the slepe no mare. Joseph A, myghtfull lorde, whateuere that mente? So swete a voyce herde I neuere ayre. But what arte thou with steuen so shylle THus in my slepe that spekis me till? To me appere And late me here What that thou was. Angel Joseph, haue thou no drede, THou shalte witte or I passe, Therefore to me take hede. For I am sente to the, Gabriell, Goddis aungell bright, Is comen to bidde the flee With Marie and hir worthy wight. For Herowde the kyng gars doo to dede All knave-childer in ilke a stede, THat he may ta With yoeris twa THat are of olde. Tille he be dede, away In Egipte shall yoe beelde Tille I witte the for to saie. Joseph Aye-lastand lord, loved mott thou be That thy swete sande wolde to me sende. But lorde, what ayles the kyng at me, For vnto hym I neuere offende? Allas, what ayles hym for to spille Smale yoonge barnes that neuere did ille In worde ne dede, Vnto no lede Be nyght nor day? And sen he wille vs schende, Dere lorde, I the praye, THou wolde be oure frende, For be he neuere so wode or wrothe For all his force thou may vs fende. I praye the lorde, kepe us fro skathe, Thy socoure sone to vs thou sende; For vnto Egipte wende we will Thy biddyng baynly to fulfill, As worthy is THou kyng of blisse, THi will be wroght. Marie my doughtir dere, On the is all my thought. Mary A, leue Joseph, what chere? Joseph THe chere of me is done for ay. Mary Allas, what tythandis herde haue yoe? Joseph Now certis, full ille to the at saye, Ther is noght ellis but us most flee Owte of oure kyth where we are knowyn, Full wightely bus vs be withdrawen, Both thou and I. Mary Leue Joseph, why? Layne it noght, To doole who has vs demed, Or what wronge haue we wroght Wherfore we shulde be flemyd? Joseph Wroght we harme? Nay, nay, all wrange, Wytte thou wele it is noght soo. THat yonge page liffe thou mon forgange But yf thou fast flee fro his foo. Mary His foo? Allas, what is youre reede, Wha wolde my dere barne do to dede? I durk, I dare, Whoo may my care Of balis blynne? To flee I wolde full fayne, For all this worlde to wynne Wolde I noght se hym slayne. Joseph I warne the he is thraly thrette With Herowde kyng, harde harmes to haue. With that mytyng yf that we be mette THer is no salue that hym may saue. I warne the wele, he sleeis all Knave-childir, grete and small, In towne and felde Within the elde Of two yoere, And for thy sones sake. He will fordo that dere, May that traytoure hym take. Mary Leue Joseph, who tolde yow this? How hadde yoe wittering of this dede? Joseph An aungell bright that come fro blisse This tythandis tolde withouten drede, And wakynd me oute of my slepe THat comely childe fro cares to kepe, And bad me flee With hym and the Onto Egipte. And sertis I dred me sore To make any smale trippe, Or tyme that I come thare. Mary What ayles thei at my barne Slike harmes hym for to hete? Allas, why schulde I tharne My sone his liffe so swete? His harte aught to be ful sare, On slike a foode hym to forfare THat nevir did ill, Hym for to spill, And he ne wate why. I ware full wille of wane My sone and he shulde dye, And I haue but hym allone. Joseph We, leue Marie, do way, late be! I pray the, leue of thy dynne, And fande the furthe faste for to flee, Away with hym for to wynne, That no myscheue on hym betyde, Nor none vnhappe in no-kyn side Be way nor strete, THat we non mete To slee hym. Mary Allas Joseph, for care, Why shuld I forgo hym, My dere barne that I bare? Joseph THat swete swayne yf thou saue Do tyte pakke same oure gere, And such smale harnes as we haue. Mary A, leue Joseph, I may not bere. Joseph Bere arme? No, I trowe but small. But God it wote I muste care for all, For bed and bak And alle the pakke THat nedis vnto vs. It fortheres to fene me; THis pakald bere me bus, Off of all I plege and pleyne me. But God graunte grace I noght forgete No tulles that we schulde with vs take. Mary Allas Joseph, for greuaunce grete, Whan shall my sorowe slake, For I wote noght whedir to fare? Joseph To Egipte-talde I the lang are. Mary Whare standith itt? Fayne wolde I witt. Joseph What wate I? I wote not where it stande. Mary Joseph, I aske mersy, Helpe me oute of this lande. Joseph Nowe certis Marie, I wolde full fayne Helpe the al that I may, And at my poure me peyne To wynne with hym and the away. Mary Allas, what ayles that feende THus wilsom wayes make vs to wende? He dois grete synne, Fro kyth and kynne He gares vs flee. Joseph Leue Marie, leue thy grete. Mary Joseph, full wo is me For my dere sone so swete. Joseph I pray the Marie, happe hym warme And sette hym softe that he noght syle, And yf thou will ought ese thyn arme Gyff me hym, late me bere hym awhile. Mary I thanke you of youre grete goode dede; Nowe gud Joseph tille hym take hede, THat fode so free, Tille hym yoe see Now in this tyde. Joseph Lat me and hym allone, And yf thou can ille ride Haue and halde the faste by the mane. Mary Allas Joseph, for woo, Was neuer wight in worde so will. Joseph Do way Marie, and say nought soo, For thou schall haue no cause thertill. For witte thou wele, God is oure frende, He will be with vs wherso we lende. In all oure nede He will vs spede, THis wote I wele. I loue my lorde of all; Such forse methynke I fele, I may go where I schall. Are was I wayke, nowe am I wight, My lymes to welde ay at my wille. I loue my maker most of myght That such grace has graunte me tille. Nowe schall no hatyll do vs harme, I haue oure helpe here in myn arme. He wille vs fende Wherso we lende Fro tene and tray. Late vs goo with goode chere- Farewele and haue gud day- God blisse vs all in fere. Mary Amen as he beste may. Play 19Herod Powre bewsheris aboute, Peyne of lyme and lande, Stente of youre steuenes stoute And stille as stone yoe stande, And my carping recorde. YOe aught to dare and doute, And lere you lowe to lowte To me youre louely lord. YOe awe in felde and towne To bowe at my bidding, With reuerence and renoune, As fallis for swilk a kyng, THe lordlyest on lyue. Who herto is noght bowne, Be allmyghty Mahounde, To dede I schall hym dryue. So bolde loke no man be For to aske helpe ne helde But of Mahounde and me, THat hase this worlde in welde, To mayntayne vs emell. For welle of welthe are we And my cheffe helpe is he; Herto what can yoe tell? Consolator 1 Lord, what you likis to do All folke will be full fayne To take entente therto, And none grucche theragayne. THat full wele witte shall yoe, And yf thai wolde noyot soo We shulde sone wirke tham woo. Herod YOa, faire sirs, so shulde it bee. Consolator 2 Lorde, the soth to saie, Fulle wele we vndirstande Mahounde is God werraye, And yoe ar lorde of ilke a lande. Therfore, so haue I seell, I rede we wayte allway What myrthe most mende yoou may. Herod Sertis, yoe saie right well. But I am noyed of newe, THat blithe may I noyot be, For thre kyngis as yoe knowe That come thurgh this contré, And saide thei sought a swayne. Consolator 1 THat rewlle I hope tham rewe, For hadde ther tales ben trewe They hadde comen this waye agayne. Consolator 2 We harde how thei yoou hight, Yf they myght fynde that childe For to haue tolde yoou right, But certis thei are begilyd. Swilke tales ar noght to trowe, Full wele wotte ilke a wight, THer schalle neuere man haue myght Ne maystrie unto yoou. Consolator 1 THam schamys so, for certayne, That they dar mete you no more. Herod Wherfore shulde thei be fayne To make swilke fare before, To saie a boy was borne That schulde be moste of mayne? This gadlyng schall agayne Yf that the deuyll had sworne. For be well neuer thei wotte Whedir thei wirke wele or wrang, To frayne garte tham thus-gate To seke that gedlyng gang, And swilke carping to kith. Consolator 2 Nay lorde, they lered ouere-latte Youre blisse schal neuere abatte, And therfore lorde, be blithe. Nuncius Mahounde withouten pere, My lorde, yoou saue and see. Herod Messenger, come nere, And bewcher, wele the be. What tydyngis? Telles thou any? Nuncius YOa lorde. Sen I was here I haue sought sidis seere, And sene merueyllis full many. Herod And of meruayles to mene That wer most myrthe to me. Nuncius Lorde, euen as I haue seene The soth sone schall yoe see, Yf yoe wille, here in hye. I mette tow townes betwene Thre kyngis with crounes clene, Rydand full ryally. Herod A, my blys, boy, thou burdis to brode. Nuncius Sir, ther may no botment be. Herod Owe, by sonne and mone, THan tydis vs talis tonyght. Hopes thou thei will come sone Hedir, as thei haue hight, For to telle me tythande? Nuncius Nay lorde, that daunce is done. Herod Why, whedir are thei gone? Nuncius Ilkone into ther owne lande. Herod How sais thou ladde? Late be. Nuncius I saie, for they are past. Herod What, forthe away fro me? Nuncius YOa lord, in faitht ful faste, For I herde and toke hede How that thei wente all thre Into ther awne contré. Herod A, dogges, the deuell yoou spede. Nuncius Sir, more of ther menyng YOitt well I vndirstode, How thei hadde made offering Vnto that frely foode THat nowe of newe is borne. THai saie he schulde be kyng And welde all erthely thyng. Herod Allas, than am I lorne. Fy on thaym, faytours, fy! Wille thei begylle me thus? Nuncius Lorde, by ther prophicy THei named his name Jesus. Herod Fy on the ladde, thou lyes. Consolator 2 Hense tyte but thou the hye, With doulle her schall thou dye, That wreyes hym on this wise. Nuncius YOe wyte me all with wrang, Itt is thus and wele warre. Herod Thou lyes, false traytoure strange, Loke neuere thou negh me nere. Vppon liffe and lymme May I that faitour fange, Full high I schall gar hym hange, Both the, harlott, and hym. Nuncius I am nott worthy to wyte, Bot fareswele all the heppe. Consolator 1 Go, in the deueles dispite, Or I schall gar the leppe And dere aby this bro. Herod Als for sorowe and sighte My woo no wighte may wryte; What deuell is best to do? Consolator 2 Lorde, amende youre chere And takis no nedles noy, We schall yoou lely lere THat ladde for to distroye, Be counsaille if we cane. Herod THat may yoe noght come nere, For it is past two yoere Sen that this bale begane. Consolator 1 Lorde, therfore haue no doute, Yf it were foure or fyve. Gars gadir in grete rowte Youre knyghtis kene belyue, And biddis tham dynge to dede Alle knave childir kepte in clowte, In Bedlem and all aboute, To layte in ilke a stede. Consolator 2 Lorde, saue none, for youre seell, THat are of ij yoere age withinne, THan schall that fandelyng felle Belyue his blisse schall blynne, With bale when he schall blede. Herod Sertis, yoe saie right wele, And as yoe deme ilke dele Shall I garre do indede. Sir knyghtis, curtayse and hende, THow the nott bees nowe all newe, YOe schall fynde me youre frende And yoe this tyme be trewe. Miles 1 What saie yoe lorde? Lette see. Herod To Bedlehem bus yoe wende, That schorwe with schame to schende THat menes to maistir me. And abowte Bedlehem bathe Bus yowe wele spere and spye, For ellis it will be wathe THat he losis this Jury, And certis that were grete schame. Miles 2 My lorde, that wer vs lathe, And he escapid it wer skathe And we welle worthy blame. Miles 1 Full sone he schall be soughte, That make I myne avowe. Consolator 1 I bide for hym yoow loghte, And latte me telle yowe howe To werke when yoe come there: Bycause yoe kenne hym noght, To dede they muste be brought, Knave-childre, lesse and more. Herod YOaa, all withinne two yoere, That none for speche be spared. Miles 2 Lord, howe yoe vs lere Full wele we take rewarde, And certis we schall not rest. Miles 1 Comes furth felowes in feere, Loo, fondelyngis fynde we here [... ...] Mulier 1 Owte on yoow theves, I crye, YOe slee my semely sone. Miles 2 Ther browls schall dere abye This bale that is begonne, THerfore lay fro the faste. Mulier 2 Allas for doule, I dye, To saue my sone schall I, Aye-whils my liff may last. Miles 1 A, dame, the deuyll the spede And me, but itt be quytte. Mulier 1 To dye I haue no drede I do the wele to witte, To saue my sone so dere. Miles 1 Asarmes, for nowe is nede; But yf we do yone dede Ther quenys will quelle vs here. Mulier 2 Allas, this lothly striffe, No blisse may be my bette, THe knyght vppon his knyffe Hath slayne my sone so swette, And I hadde but hym allone. Mulier 1 Allas, I lose my liffe, Was neuere so wofull a wyffe Ne halffe so wille of wone; And certis, me were full lotht THat thei thus harmeles yoede. Miles 1 THe deuell myght spede you bothe, False wicchis, ar yoe woode? Mulier 2 Nay, false lurdayns, yoe lye. Miles 1 Yf yoe be woode or wrothe Ye schall noyot skape fro skathe; Wende we vs hense in hye. Mulier 1 Allas that we wer wroughte In worlde women to be, THe barne that wee dere bought THus in oure sighte to see Disputuously spill. Mulier 2 And certis, ther nott is noght, The same that thei haue soughte Schall thei neuere come till. Miles 1 Go we to the kyng. Of all this contek kene I schall nott lette for nothyng To saie as we haue sene. Miles 2 And certis, no more shall I; We haue done his bidding How so they wraste or wryng, We schall saie sothfastly. Miles 1 Mahounde oure god of myght, Saue the, sir Herowde the kyng. Consolator 1 Lorde, take kepe to youre knyght, He wille telle yoou nowe tyding Of bordis wher they haue bene. Herod YOaa, and thei haue gone right And holde that thei vs hight, THan shall solace be sene. Miles 2 Lorde, as yoe demed vs to done In contrees wher we come- Herod Sir, by sonne and mone, YOe are welcome home And worthy to haue rewarde. Haue yoe geten vs this gome? Miles 1 Wher we fande felle or fone Wittenesse we will that ther was none. Miles 2 Lorde, they are dede ilkone, What wolde yoe we ded more? Herod I aske but aftir oone THe kyngis tolde of before, THat schulde make grete maistrie; Telle vs if he be tane. Miles 1 Lorde, tokenyng hadde we none To knawe that brothell by. Miles 2 In bale we haue tham brought Aboute all Bedleham towne. Herod YOe lye, yooure note is nought, THe deueles of helle yoou droune. So may that boy be fledde, For in waste haue yoe wroght. Or that same ladde be sought Schalle I neuere byde in bedde. Consolator 1 We will wende with you than, To dynge that dastard doune. Herod Asarme euere-ilke man That holdis of Mahounde. Wer they a thousand skore This bargayne schall thai banne. Comes aftir as yhe canne, For we will wende before. Play 20Joseph Marie, of mirthis we may vs mene, And trewly telle betwixte vs twoo Of solempne sightis that we haue sene In that cité where we come froo. Mary Sertis, Joseph, yoe will noyot wene What myrthis within my harte I maie, Sen that oure sone with vs has bene And sene ther solempne sightis alswae. Joseph Hamward I rede we hye In all the myght we maye, Because of company THat will wende in oure waye, For gode felawshippe haue we fone And ay so forward schall we fynde. Mary A, sir, where is oure semely sone? I trowe oure wittis be waste as wynde. Allas, in bale thus am I boone, What ayleth vs both to be so blynde? To go ouere-fast we haue begonne And late that louely leue behynde. Joseph Marie, mende thy chere, For certis whan all is done He comes with folke in feere, And will oueretake vs sone. Mary Oueretake vs sone sir? Certis nay, Such gabbyngis may me noyot begyle, For we haue trauelde all this day Fro Jerusalem many a myle. Joseph I wende he hadde bene with vs aye, Awaye fro vs how schulde he wyle? Mary Hit helpis nought such sawes to saie, My barne is lost, allas the whille, THat euere we wente theroute With hym in companye. We lokid ouere-late aboute, Full wooe is me forthy, For he is wente som wayes wrang, And non is worthy to wyte but wee. Joseph Agaynewarde rede I that we gang The right way to that same citee, To spire and spie all men emang, For hardely homward gone is he. Mary Of sorowes sere schal be my sang, My semely sone tille I hym see, He is but xij yoere alde. Joseph What way someuere he wendis Woman, we may be balde To fynde hym with oure frendis. Magister 1 Maistirs, takes to me intente, And rede youre resouns right on rawe, And all the pepull in this present, Euere-ilke man late see his sawe. But witte I wolde, or we hens wente, Be clargy clere if we couthe knawe Yf any lede that liffe has lente Wolde aught allegge agaynste oure lawe, Owthir in more or lesse. Yf we defaute myght feele, Dewly we schall gar dresse Be dome euery-ilk a dele. Magister 2 THat was wele saide, so mot I the, Swilke notis to neven methynke wer nede, For maistirs in this lande ar we And has the lawes lelly to lede, And doctoures also in oure degree THat demyng has of ilka dede. Laye fourthe oure bokes belyue, late see, What mater moste were for oure mede. Magister 3 We schall ordayne so wele, Sen we all clergy knawe, Defaute shall no man fele Nowdir in dede ne sawe. Jesus Lordingis, loue be with yoou lentte And mirthis be vnto this mené. Magister 1 Sone, hense away I wolde thou wente, For othir haftis in hande haue we. Magister 2 Sone, whoso the hedir sente, They were nouyot wise, that warne I the, For we haue othir tales to tente THan nowe with barnes bordand to be. Magister 3 Sone, yf the list ought to lere To lyve by Moyses laye, Come hedir and thou shalle here THe sawes that we shall saye, For in som mynde itt may the brynge, To here oure reasouns redde by rawes. Jesus To lerne of you nedis me nothing, For I knawe both youre dedys and sawes. Magister 1 Nowe herken yoone barne with his bowrdyng, He wenes he kens more than we knawes. We, nay, certis sone, thou arte ouere-yoonge By clergy yoitt to knowe oure lawes. Jesus I wote als wele as yhe Howe that youre lawes wer wrought. Magister 2 Cum sitte, sone schall we see, For certis so semys it noght. Itt wer wondir that any wight Vntill oure reasouns right schulde reche. And thou sais thou hast insight Oure lawes truly to telle and teche? Jesus The holy gost has on me light And has anoynted me as a leche, And geven me pleyne poure and myght The kyngdom of heuene for to preche. Magister 1 Whens-euere this barne may be That shewes ther novellis nowe? Jesus Certis,I was or yoe, And schall be aftir yoou. Magister 1 Sone, of thy sawes, als haue I cele, And of thy witte is wondir thyng, But neuere the lesse fully I feele Itt may falle wele in wirkyng. For Dauid demys of ilka dele, And sais thus of childir yoing: Of ther mouthes, he wate full wele, Oure lord has parformed loving. But yoitt sone, schulde thou lette Here for to speke ouere-large, For where maistirs are mette Childre wordis are noyot to charge, And if thou wolde neuere so fayne, Yf all the liste to lere the lawe, THou arte nowthir of myght ne mayne To kenne it as a clerke may knawe. Jesus Sirs, I saie yoou for sartayne That suthfast schal be all my sawe, And poure haue playnere and playne To say and aunswer as me awe. Doctor 1 Maistirs, what may this mene? Meruayle methynke haue I, Whens-euere this barne haue bene That carpis thus connandly? Doctor 2 Als wyde in worlde als we haue wente YOitt fande we neuere swilke ferly fare, For certis I trowe this barne be sente Full souerandly to salue oure sare. Jesus Sirs, I schall proue in youre present Alle the sawes that I saide are. Doctor 3 Why, whilke callest thou the firste comaundement, And the moste in Moyses lare? Jesus Sirs, sen yoe are sette on rowes And has youre bokes on brede, Late se sirs, in youre sawes, Howe right that yoe can rede. Doctor 1 I rede this is the firste bidding THat Moyses taught vs here vntill: To honnoure God ouere all thing With all thy witte and all thi will, And all thyn harte in hym schall hyng, Erlye and late, both lowde and still. Jesus YOe nedis non othir bokes to bring, But fandis this for to fulfill. The secounde may men preve And clerly knawe, wherby YOoure neghbours shall yoe loue Als youreselffe, sekirly. This comaunded Moyses to all men In his x comaundementis clere, In ther ij biddingis, schall we kene, Hyngis all the lawe that we shall lere. Whoso ther two fulfilles then With mayne and myght in goode manere, He trulye fulfillis all the ten THat aftir folowes in feere. THan schulde we God honnoure With all oure myght and mayne, And loue wele ilke a neghboure Right as oureselfe, certayne. Doctor 1 Nowe sone, sen thou haste tolde vs two, Whilke ar the viij, can thou ought saye? Jesus The iij biddis whareso yoe goo THat yoe schall halowe the halyday; Than is the fourthe for frende or foo That fadir and modir honnoure ay. The vte you biddis noght for to sloo No man nor woman by any way. The vjte, suthly to see, Comaundis both more and myne That thei schalle fande to flee All filthes of flesshely synne. The vijte forbedis you to stele YOoure neghboures goodes, more or lesse, Whilke fautez nowe are founden fele Emang ther folke, that ferly is. The viijte lernes yoou for to be lele, Here for to bere no false witnesse. YOoure neghbours house, whillis yoe haue hele, The ixte biddis take noyot be stresse. His wiffe nor his women The xte biddis noyot coveyte. Thez are the biddingis x, Whoso will lelly layte. Doctor 2 Behalde howe he alleggis oure layse, And lered neuere on boke to rede; Full subtill sawes methinketh he saies, And also trewe, yf we take hede. Doctor 3 YOa, late hym wende fourth on his wayes, For and he dwelle, withouten drede, The pepull schall full sone hym prayse Wele more than vs for all oure dede. Doctor 1 Nay, nay, than wer we wrang, Such speking wille we spare. Als he come late hym gang, And move vs nowe no more. Mary A, dere Joseph, what is youre rede? Of oure grete bale no bote may be, Myne harte is heuy as any lede My semely sone tille hym I see. Nowe haue we sought in ilke a stede Bothe vppe and doune ther dayes thre, And whedir that he be quyk or dede YOitt wote we noght, so wo is me. Joseph Mysese had neuere man more, But mournyng may not mende; I rede forther we fare Till God som socoure sende. Aboute yoone tempill if he be ought I wolde we wiste this ilke nyght. Mary A, sir, I see that we haue sought, In worlde was neuere so semely a sight. Lo where he sittis, se yoe hym noght Emong yoone maistiris mekill of myght? Joseph Now blist be he vs hedir brought, For in lande was neuere non so light. Mary A, dere Joseph, als we haue cele, Go furthe and fette youre sone and myne. This daye is done nere ilke a dele And we haue nede for to gang hyne. Joseph With men of myght can I not mell, Than all my trauayle mon I tyne; I can noyot with them, this wate thou wele, They are so gay in furres fyne. Mary To tham youre herand for to say Suthly yoe thar noyot drede no dele, They will take rewarde to you allway Because of elde, this wate yoe wele. Joseph When I come there what schall I saye? I wate neuere, als haue I cele. Sertis Marie, thou will haue me schamed for ay, For I can nowthir croke nor knele. Mary Go we togedir, I halde it beste, Vnto yoone worthy wysse in wede; And yf I see-als haue I reste- THat yoe will noyot than bus me nede. Joseph Gange on Marie, and telle thy tale firste, Thy sone to the will take goode heede. Wende fourth Marie, and do thy beste, I come behynde, als God me spede. Mary A, dere son Jesus, Sen we loue the allone, Why dosse thou thus till vs And gares vs make swilke mone? Thy fadir and I betwyxte vs twa, Son, for thy loue has likid ill. We haue the sought both to and froo, Wepand full sore as wightis will. Jesus Wherto shulde yoe seke me soo? Ofte tymes it hase ben tolde you till, My fadir werkis, for wele or woo, Thus am I sente for to fulfyll. Mary There sawes, als haue I cele, Can I noyot vndirstande. I schall thynke on tham wele To fonde what is folowand. Joseph Now sothely sone, the sight of the Hath salued vs of all oure sore. Come furth sone, with thi modir and me, Att Nazareth I wolde we wore. Jesus Beleves wele, lordis free, For with my frendis nowe will I fare. Doctor 1 Nowe sone, wher thou schall bide or be, Gode make the gode man euermore. No wondir if yoone wiffe Of his fynding be full fayne, He schall, and he haue liff, Proue till a praty swayne. But sone, loke that thou layne for gud or ill THe note that we haue nemed her nowe, And if it like the to lende her stille And wonne with vs, welcome art thowe. Jesus Graunte mercy sirs, of youre gode will, No lenger liste me lende with yoou, My frendis thoughtis I wol fulfille And to ther bidding baynely bowe. Mary Full wele is vs this tyde, Nowe maye we make goode chere. Joseph No lenger will we bide, Fares wele all folke in feere. Play 21John the Baptist Almyghty God and lord verray, Full woundyrfull is mannys lesyng, For yf I preche tham day be day And telle tham, lorde, of thy comyng, THat all has wrought, Men are so dull that my preching Serues of noght. When I haue, lord, in the name of the Baptiste the folke in watir clere, THan haue I saide that aftir me Shall he come that has more powere THan I to taste; He schall giffe baptyme more entire In fire and gaste. THus am I comen in message right And be fore-reyner in certayne, In wittnesse-bering of that light, THe wiche schall light in ilka man THat is comand Into this worlde; nowe whoso can May vndirstande. Thez folke had farly of my fare And what I was full faste thei spied; They askid yf I a prophette ware And I saide nay, but sone I wreyede- High aperte I saide I was a voyce that cryede Here in deserte. Loke thou make the redy-ay saide I- Vnto oure lord God most of myght, THat is that thou be clene haly In worde, in werke ay redy dight Agayns oure lord, With parfite liffe that ilke a wight Be well restored. For if we be clene in levyng, Oure bodis are Goddis tempyll than, In the whilke he will make his dwellyng. Therfore be clene, bothe wiffe and man, THis is my reed; God will make in yowe haly than His wonnyng-steed. And if yoe sette all youre delyte In luste and lykyng of this liff, Than will he turne fro yow als tyte Bycause of synne, boyth of man and wiffe, And fro yoou flee, For with whome that synne is riffe Will God noght be. Angel 1 THou John, take tente what I schall saye, I brynge the tythandis wondir gode: My lorde Jesus schall come thys day Fro Galylee vnto this flode YOe Jourdane call, Baptyme to take myldely with mode THis day he schall. John, of his sande therfore be gladde And thanke hym hartely, both lowde and still. John the Baptist I thanke hym euere, but I am radde I am noyot abill to fullfill THis dede certayne. Angel 2 John, the aught with harte and will To be full bayne To do his bidding, all bydene. Bot in his baptyme John, take tente, THe heuenes schalle be oppen sene, The holy gost schalle doune be sente To se in sight, The fadirs voyce with grete talent Be herde full riyot, THat schall saie thus to hym forthy John the Baptist [...] with wordes fewne I will be subgett nyght and day As me well awe, To serue my lord Jesus to paye In dede and sawe. Bot wele I wote, baptyme is tane To wasshe and clense man of synne, And wele I wotte that synne is none In hym, withoute ne withinne. What nedis hym than For to be baptiste more or myne Als synfull man? Jesus John, kynde of man is freele To the whilke that I haue me knytte, But I shall shewe the skyllis twa THat thou schallt knawe by kyndly witte THe cause why I haue ordand swa, And ane is this: Mankynde may noyot vnbaptymde go Te endles blys. And sithen myselffe haue taken mankynde, For men schall me ther myrroure make And haue my doyng in ther mynde, Also I do the baptyme take. I will forthy Myselfe be baptiste for ther sake Full oppynly. Anodir skill I schall the tell: My will is this, that fro this day THe vertue of my baptyme dwelle In baptyme-watir euere and ay, Mankynde to taste, Thurgh my grace therto to take alway THe haly gaste. John the Baptist All-myghtfull lorde, grete is thi grace, I thanke the of thi grete fordede. Jesus Cum, baptise me John, in this place. John the Baptist Lorde, saue thy grace that I forbede THat itt soo be, For lorde, methynketh it wer more nede THou baptised me. THat place that I yarne moste of all, Fro thens come thou lorde, as I gesse. How schulde I than, that is a thrall, Giffe the baptyme, that rightwis is And has ben euere? For thow arte roote of rightwissenesse, THat forfette neuere. What riche man gose from dore to dore To begge at hym that has right noght? Lorde, thou arte riche and I am full poure, THou may blisse all, sen thou all wrought. Fro heuen come all THat helpes in erthe, yf soth be sought, Fro erthe but small. Jesus Thou sais full wele John, certaynly, But suffre nowe for heuenly mede THat rightwisnesse be noyot oonlye Fullfillid in worde but also in dede, Thrughe baptyme clere. Cum, baptise me in my manhed Appertly here. Fyrst schall I take, sen schall I preche, For so behovis mankynde fulfille All rightwissenesse, als werray leche. John the Baptist Lord, I am redy at thi will, And will be ay Thy subgett lord, both lowde and still, In that I may. A, lorde, I trymble ther I stande, So am I arow to do that dede. But saue me, lord that all ordand, For the to touche haue I grete drede For doyngs dark. Now helpe me lorde, thurgh thi Godhede, To do this werk. Jesus, my lord of myghtis most, I baptise the here in the name Of the fadir and of the sone and holy gost; But in this dede lorde, right no blame THis day by me, And bryngis all thase to thy home THat trowes in the. Jesus John, for mannys prophyte-wit thou wele- Take I this baptyme certaynely. The dragons poure ilk a dele Thurgh my baptyme distroyed haue I, THis is certayne, And saued mankynde, saule and body, Fro endles payne. What man that trowis and baptised bes Schall saued be and come to blisse. Whoso trowes noyot, to payne endles He schal be dampned sone, trowe wele this. But wende we nowe Wher most is nede the folke to wisse, Both I and thou. John the Baptist I loue the, lorde, as souereyne leche That come to salue men of thare sore, As thou comaundis I schall gar preche And lere to euery man that lare, That are was thrall. Now sirs, that barne that Marie bare Be with yoou all. Play 22Diabolus Make rome belyve, and late me gang! Who makis here all this thrang? High you hense, high myght yoou hang Right with a roppe. I drede me that I dwelle to lang To do a jape. For sithen the firste tyme that I fell For my pride fro heuen to hell, Euere haue I mustered me emell Emonge mannekynde, How I in dole myght gar tham dwell THer to be pynde. And certis, all that hath ben sithen borne Has comen to me, mydday and morne, And I haue ordayned so tham forne None may thame fende, THat fro all likyng ar they lorne Withowten ende. And nowe sum men spekis of a swayne, Howe he schall come and suffre payne And with his dede to blisse agayne THei schulde be bought. But certis this tale is but a trayne, I trowe it noyot. For I wotte ilke a dele bydene Of the mytyng that men of mene, How he has in grete barett bene Sithen he was borne, And suffered mekill traye and tene Bothe even and morne. And nowe it is brought so aboute THat lurdayne that thei loue and lowte To wildirnesse he is wente owte, Withowtyne moo; To dere hym nowe haue I no doute, Betwyxte vs two. Before this tyme he has bene tent THat I myght gete hym with no glent, But now sen he allone is wente I schall assay, And garre hym to sum synne assente If that I may. He has fastid-that marris his mode- Ther fourty dayes withowten foode. If he be man in bone and bloode Hym hungris ill; In glotonye than halde I gude To witt his will. For so it schall be knowen and kidde If Godhed be in hym hidde, If he will do as I hym bidde Whanne I come nare. THer was neuere dede that euere he dide THat greued hym warre. THou witty man and wise of rede, If thou can ought of Godhede Byd nowe that ther stones be brede, Betwyxte vs two; THan may thei stande thyselfe in stede, And othir moo. For thou hast fastid longe I wene, I wolde now som mete wer sene For olde acqueyntaunce vs bytwene, Thyselue wote howe. Ther sall no man witte what I mene But I and thou. Jesus My fadir, that all cytte may slake, Honnoure eueremore to the I make And gladly suffir I for thy sake Swilk velany, And thus temptacions for to take Of myn enmy. THou weried wight, thi wittis are wode, For wrytyn it is, whoso vndirstode, A man lyvis noght in mayne and mode With brede allone, But Goddis wordis are gostly fode To men ilkone. Iff I haue fastid oute of skill, Wytte thou me hungris not so ill THat I ne will wirke my fadirs will In all degré; THi biddyng will I noyot fullfill, THat warne I the. Diabolus A, slyke carping neuere I kende, Hym hungres noyot, as I wende. Nowe sen thy fadir may the fende Be sotell sleghte, Late se yf thou allone may lende THer vppon heghte, Vppon the pynakill parfitely. Aha, nowe go we wele therby; I schall assaye in vayne-glorie To garre hym falle, And if he be Goddis sone myghty, Witte I schall. Nowe liste to me a litill space: If thou be Goddis sone, full of grace, Shew som poynte here in this place To proue thi might. Late se, falle doune vppon thi face Here in my sight. For it is wretyn, as wele is kende, How God schall aungellis to the sende, And they schall kepe the in ther hende Wherso thou gose, THat thou schall on no stones descende To hurte thi tose. And sen thou may withouten wathe Fall and do thyselffe no skathe, Tumbill downe to ease vs bathe Here to my fete; And but thou do I will be wrothe, THat I the hette. Jesus Late be, warlowe, thy wordis kene, For wryten it is, withouten wene, Thy God thou schall not tempte with tene Nor with discorde, Ne quarell schall thou none mayntene Agaynste thi lorde. And therfore trowe thou, withouten trayne, THat all thi gaudes schall nothyng gayne; Be subgette to thi souereyne Arely and late. Diabolus What, this trauayle is in vayne Be ought I watte. He proues that he is mekill of price, THerfore it is goode I me avise, And sen I may noyot on this wise Make hym my thrall, I will assaye in couetise To garre hym fall, For certis I schall noyot leue hym yoitt. Who is my souereyne, this wolde I witte? Myselffe ordande the thore to sitte, THis wote thou wele, And right euen as I ordande itt Is done ilke dele. THan may thou se sen itt is soo THat I am souerayne of vs two, And yoitt I graunte the or I goo Withouten fayle, THat if thou woll assente me too It schall avayle. For I haue all this worlde to welde, Toure and toune, forest and felde; If thou thyn herte will to me helde With wordis hende, YOitt will I baynly be thy belde And faithfull frende. Behalde now ser, and thou schalt see Sere kyngdomes and sere contré; Alle this wile I giffe to the For euermore, And thou fall and honour me As I saide are. Jesus Sees of thy sawes, thou Sathanas, I graunte nothyng that thou me asse, To pyne of helle I bide the passe And wightely wende, And wonne in woo, as thou are was, Withouten ende. Non othyr myght schal be thy mede, For wretyn it is, who right can rede, Thy lord God the aught to drede And honoure ay, And serue hym in worde and dede Both nyyot and day. And sen thou dose not as I the tell No lenger liste me late the dwell, I comaunde the thou hy to hell And holde the thar, With felawschip of fendis fell For euermar. Diabolus Owte! I dar noyot loke, allas, Itt is warre than euere it was. He musteres what myght he has, Hye mote he hang. Folowes fast, for me bus pas To paynes strang. Angel 1 A, mercy lorde, what may this mene? Me merueyles that yoe thole this tene Of this foule fende cant and kene Carpand yoou till, And yoe his wickidnesse, I wene, May waste at will. Methynke that yoe ware straytely stedde Lorde, with this fende that nowe is fledde. Jesus Myn aungell dere, be noyot adred, He may not greue; The haly goste me has ledde, THus schal thow leue. For whan the fende schall folke see And salus tham in sere degré, THare myrroure may thei make of me For to stande still, For ouerecome schall thei noyot be Bot yf thay will. Angel 2 A, lorde, this is a grete mekenesse In yow in whome al mercy is, And at youre wille may deme or dresse Als is worthy; And thre temptacions takes expres, THus suffirrantly. Jesus My blissing haue thei with my hande THat with swilke greffe is noyot grucchand, And also that will stiffely stande Agaynste the fende. I knawe my tyme is faste comand, Now will I wende. Play 22AArchdeclyne Loo this is a yoyfull day For me and... Play 23Jesus Petir myne awne discipill dere, And James and John my cosyns two, Takis hartely hede, for yoe schall here THat I wille telle vnto no moo. And als yoe schall see sightis seere Whilke none schall see bot yoe alsoo, Therfore comes forth with me in fere, For to yoone mountayne will I goo. Ther schall yoe see a sight Whilk yoe haue yoerned lange. Peter My lorde, we are full light And glad with the to gange. Jesus Longe haue yoe coveyte for to kenne My fadir, for I sette hym before, And wele yoe wote whilke tyme and when In Galylé gangand we were. `Shewe vs thy fadir'-thus saide yoe then- `THat suffice us withouten moré. I saide to yoou and to all men `Who seis me seis my fadyr thoré. Such wordis to yoou I spakke In trewthe to make yoou bolde; YOe cowde noght vndyrtake The talez that I yoou tolde. Anodir tyme, for to encresse YOoure trouthe and worldly yoou to wys, I saide `Quem dicunt homines Esse filium hominis?' I askid yoow wham the pepill chase To be mannys sone, withouten mys. YOe aunswered and saide `Sum Moyses,' And sum, saide than `Hely it is', And sum saide `John Baptist'. THan more I enquered you yoitt, I askid yoiff yoe ought wiste Who I was, by youre witte. THou aunswered, Petir, for thy prowe, And saide that I was Crist, God sonne, Bot of thyselffe that had noght thowe, My fadir hadde that grace begonne. THerfore bese bolde and biddis now To tyme yoe haue my fadir fonne. Jacobus Lord, to thy byddyng will we bowe Full buxumly, as we are bonne. John Lorde, we will wirke thy will Allway with trewe entent, We love God lowde and stille THat vs this layne has lente. Peter Full glad and blithe awe vs to be, And thanke oure maistir mekill of mayne THat sais we schall the sightis see, The whiche non othir schall see certayne. Jacobus He talde vs of his fadir free, Of that fare wolde we be full fayne. John All that he hyghte vs holde will hee, Therfore we will no forther frayne, But as he fouchesaffe So sall we vndirstande. Peter Beholde, her we nowe haue In hast som new tythande. Helyas Lord God, I loue the lastandly And highly, botht with harte and hande, THat me, thy poure prophett Hely, Has steuened in this stede to stande. In Paradise wonnand am I Ay sen I lefte this erthely lande; I come Cristis name to clarifie As God his fadir me has ordand, And for to bere witnesse In worde to man and wyffe, THat this his owne sone is And lord of lastand liff. Moyses Lord God that of all welth is wele, With wille and witte we wirschippe the, THat vnto me, Moyses, wolde tell THis grete poynte of thy pryuyté, And hendly hente me oute of hell THis solempne syght for I schuld see, Whan thy dere darlynges that thore dwell Hase noght thy grace in swilk degree. Oure forme-fadyrs full fayne Wolde se this solempne sight, THat in this place thus pleyne Is mustered thurgh thi myght. Peter Brethir, whateuere yoone brightnes be? Swilk burdis beforne was neuere sene. It marres my myght, I may not see, So selcouth thyng was neuere sene. Jacobus What it will worthe that wote noyot wee; How wayke I waxe yoe will not wene. Are was ther one, now is ther thre, Methynke oure maistir is betwene. John That oure maistir is thare THat may we trewly trowe, He was full fayre before But neuere als he is nowe. Peter His clothyng is as white as snowe, His face schynes as the sonne; To speke with hym I haue grete awe, Swilk faire before was neuere fune. Jacobus THe tothir two fayne wolde I knawe And witte what werke tham hedir has wonne. John I rede we aske tham all on rowe And grope tham how this game is begonne. Peter My bredir, if that yoe come be To make clere Cristis name, Telles here till vs thre, For we seke to the same. Elias Itt is Goddis will that we yoou wys Of his werkis, as is worthy. I haue my place in Paradise, Ennok my brodyr me by. Als messenger withouten mys Am I called to this company, To witnesse that Goddis sone is this, Euyn with hym mette and allmyghty. To dede we wer noght dight, But quyk schall we come With Antecrist for to fyght, Beffore the day of dome. Moyses Frendis, if that yoe frayne my name, Moyses than may yoe rede by rawe. Two thousand yoere aftir Adam THan gaffe God vnto me his lawe, And sythen in helle has bene oure hame, Allas, Adams kynne, this schall yoe knawe. Vnto Crist come, this is the same THat vs schall fro that dongeoun drawe. He schall brynge tham to blys THat nowe in bale are bonne. This myrthe we may not mys, For this same is Goddis sonne. Jesus My dere discipils, drede yoou noyot, I am yooure souerayne certenly. This wondir-werke that here is wrought Is of my fadir almyghty. THire both are hydir brought- THe tone Moyses, the todir Ely- And for youre sake thus are thei sought To saie yoou, his sone am I. So schall bothe heuen and helle Be demers of this dede, And yoe in erth schall tell My name wher itt is nede. Peter A, loued be thou euere my lord Jesus THat all this solempne sight has sent, THat fouchest saffe to schew the thus So that thi myghtis may be kende. Here is full faire dwellyng for vs, A lykand place in for to lende. A, lord, late vs no forther trus, For we will make with herte and hende A taburnakill vnto the Belyue, and thou will bide; One schall to Moyses be And to Ely the thirde. Jacobus YOa, wittirly, that were wele done, But vs awe noght swilk case to craue. THam thare but saie and haue it sone, Such seruice and he fouchesaffe. He hetis his men both morne and none THare herber high in heuen to haue, Therfore is beste we bide hys bone; Who othir reedis, rudely thei raue. John Such sonde as he will sende May mende all oure mischeue, And where hym lykis to lende, We will lende, with his leue. Pater YOe febill of faithe, folke affraied, Beis noyot aferde for vs in feere. I am yooure God that gudly grayde Both erthe and eyre with clowdes clere. THis is my sone, as yoe haue saide, As he has schewed by sygnes sere. Of all his werkis I am wele paied, Therfore till hym takis hede and here. Where he is, thare am I, He is myne and I am his, Who trowis this stedfastly Shall byde in endles blisse. Jesus Petir, pees be vnto the, And to yoou also James and John. Rise vppe and tellis me what yoe see, And beis no more so wille of wone. Peter A, lorde, what may this meruayle be, Whedir is this glorious gleme al gone? We saugh here pleynly persones thre And nowe is oure lorde lefte allone. THis meruayle movis my mynde And makis my flessh affrayed. Jacobus THis brightnes made me blynde, I bode neuere swilke a brayde. John Lorde God oure maker almyghty, THis mater euermore be ment, We saw two bodis stande hym by And saide his fadir had thame sent. Peter There come a clowde of the skye Lyght als the lemys on thame lent, And now fares all as fantasye For wote noyot we how thai are wente. Jacobus THat clowde cloumsed vs clene THat come schynand so clere, Such syght was never sene, To seke all sydis seere. John Nay, nay, that noys noyed vs more THat here was herde so hydously. Jesus Frendis, be noght afferde therfore, I schall yoou saye encheson why: My fadir wiste how that yoe were In yooure faith fayland, and forthy He come to witnesse ay-where, And saide that his sone am I. And also in this stede To witnesse the same, A quyk man and a dede Come to make clere my name. Peter A, lord, why latest thou vs noyot see Thy fadirs face in his fayrenes? Jesus Petir, thou askis over-grete degree, That grace may noyot be graunted the, I gesse. In his Godhed so high is he As all yooure prophetis names expresse, THat langar of lyffe schall he noght be THat seys his Godhede as it is. Here haue yoe sene in sight Poyntes of his priuité, Als mekill als erthely wighte May suffre in erthe to see. And therfore wende we nowe agayne To oure meyné, and mende ther chere. Jacobus Oure felaws ful faste wil vs frayne How we haue faren, al in feere. Jesus THis visioun lely loke yoe layne, Vnto no leffand lede itt lere Tille tyme mannys sone haue suffered payne And resen fro dede; kens it than clere. For all that trowis that thyng Of my fadir and me, Thay schall haue his blessing And myne, so motte it be. Play 24Judeus 1 Steppe fourth, late vs no lenger stande, But smertely that oure gere wer grayde; THis felowe that we with folye fande, Late haste vs fast that she wer flayed. Judeus 2 We will bere witnesse and warande How we hir raysed all vnarayed, Agaynste the lawes here of oure lande Wher sche was with hir leman laide. Judeus 1 YOaa, and he a wedded man, THat was a wikkid synne. Judeus 2 THat bargayne schall sche banne With bale nowe or we blynne. Judeus 1 A, false stodmere and stynkand stroye, How durste thou stele so stille away To do so vilaunce avowtry THat is so grete agaynste oure lay? Judeus 2 Hir bawdery schall sche dere abye, For as we sawe so schall we saye, And also hir wirkyng is worthy Sho schall be demed to ded this day. Judeus 1 The maistirs of the lawe Are here even at oure hande. Judeus 2 Go we reherse by rawe Hir fawtes as we tham fande. Judeus 1 God saue yoou maistirs, mekill of mayne, THat grete clergy and counsaille can. Judeus 3 Welcome frendis, but I wolde frayne How fare yoe with that faire woman? Judeus 2 A, sirs, we schall yoou saie certayne Of mekill sorowe sen sche began. We haue hir tane with putry playne, Hirselff may noyot gaynesaie it than. Judeus 4 What hath sche done, folye In fornicacioun and synne? Judeus 1 Nay, nay, in avowtery Full bolde, and will noyot blynne. Judeus 3 Avowtery? Nemyn it noght for schame! It is so foule opynly I it fye. Is it sothe that thei saie the dame? Judeus 2 What sir, scho may it noyot denye. We wer than worthy for to blame To greve hir but sche wer gilty. Judeus 4 Now certis, this is a foule defame And mekill bale muste be tharby. Judeus 3 YOa sir, yoe saie wele thore By lawe and rightwise rede, Ther falles noght ellis therfore But to be stoned to dede. Judeus 1 Sirs, sen yoe telle the lawe this tyde And knawes the course in this contré, Demes hir on heght, no lenger hyde, And aftir yooure wordis wirke schall we. Judeus 4 Beis noght so bryme, bewsheris, abide, A new mater nowe moues me [... ...] Judeus 3 He shewes my mysdedis more and myne, I leue yoou here, late hym allone. Judeus 4 Owe, here will new gaudes begynne- YOa, grete all wele, saie that I am gone. Judeus 1 And sen yoe are noght bolde, No lengar bide will I. Judeus 2 Pees, late no tales be tolde, But passe fourth preuylye. Jesus Woman, wher are tho wighte men went That kenely here accused the? Who hase the dampned, toke thou entent? Mulier Lord, no man has dampned me. Jesus And for me schall thou noyot be schent. Of all thy mys I make the free, Loke thou no more to synne assentte. Mulier A, lord, ay loued mott thou bee. All erthely folke in feere Loves hym and his high name, THat me on this manere Hath saued fro synne and schame. Apostolus 1 A, lorde, we loue the inwardly And all thi lore, both lowde and still, That grauntes thy grace to the gilty And spares tham that the folke wolde spill. Jesus I schall yoou saie encheson why: I wote it is my fadirs will, And for to make tham ware therby To knawe thamselffe haue done more ill. And euermore of this same Ensample schall be sene, Whoso schall othir blame Loke firste thamself be clene. Apostolus 2 A, maistir, here may men se also How mekenes may full mekill amende, To forgeue gladly where we goo All folke that hath vs oght offende. Jesus He that will noyot forgiffe his foo And vse mekenesse with herte and hende, The kyngdom may he noght come too THat ordande is withouten ende. And more sone schall we see Here or yoe forther fare, How that my fadir free Will mustir myghtis more. Nuncius Jesu that es prophett veray, My ladys Martha and Marie, If thou fouchesaffe thai wolde the pray For to come vnto Bethany. He whom thou loues full wele alway Es seke, and like, lord, for to dye. Yf thou wolde come, amende hym thou may And comforte all that cumpany. Jesus I saie yoou that sekeness Is noyot onto the dede, But joie of Goddis gudnesse Schal be schewed in that stede. And Goddis sone schall be glorified By that sekenesse and signes seere, Therfore brethir no lenger bide, Two daies fully haue we ben here. We will go soiourne here beside In the Jurie with frendis in feere. Apostolus 1 A, lorde, thou wote wele ilke a tyde THe Jewes thei layte the ferre and nere, To stone the vnto dede Or putte to pereles payne, And thou to that same stede Covaites to gange agayne? Jesus YOe wote by cours wele for to kast, THe daie is now of xij oures lange, And whilis light of the day may last It is gode that we grathely gange. For whan daylight is pleynly past Full sone than may yoe wende all wrang, Therfore takes hede and trauayle fast Whills light of liffe is yoou emang. And to yoou saie I more, How that Lazar oure frende Slepes nowe, and I therfore With yoou to hym will wende. Apostolus 2 We will be ruled aftir thi rede, But and he slepe he schall be saue. Jesus I saie to yoou, Lazare is dede, And for yoou all grete joie I haue YOe wote I was noght in that stede What tyme that he was graued in graue. His sisteres praye with bowsom beede And for comforte thei call and craue, Therfore go we togedir To make there myrthis more. Apostolus 1 Sen he will nedes wende thedir, Go we and dye with hym thore. Maria Allas, owtane Goddis will allone, THat I schulld sitte to see this sight, For I may morne and make my mone, So wo in worlde was neuere wight. THat I loued most is fro me gone, My dere brothir that Lazar hight, And I durst saye I wolde be slone For nowe me fayles both mynde and myght. My welthe is wente for euere, No medycyne mende me may. A, dede, thou do thy deuer And haue me hense away. Martha Allas, for ruthe now may I raue And febilly fare by frith and felde, Wolde God that I wer grathed in graue, THat dede hadde tane me vndir telde. For hele in harte mon I neuere haue But if he helpe that all may welde, Of Crist I will som comforte craue For he may be my bote and belde. To seke I schal noyot cesse Tille I my souereyne see. Hayle, pereles prince of pesse, Jesu my maistir so free. Jesus Martha, what menes thou to make such chere? [... ...] This stone we schall full sone Remove and sette on syde. Jesus Fadir, that is in heuyn on highte, I thanke the euere ouere all thyng That hendely heres me day and nyght, And takis hede vnto myn askyng. Wherfore fouchesaffe of thy grete myght So that this pepull, olde and yoyng, That standis and bidis to se that sight May trulye trowe and haue knowyng, This tyme here or I pas How that thou has me sent. Lazar, veni foras, Come fro thy monument. Lazarus A, pereles prince, full of pitee, Worshipped be thou in worlde alway That thus hast schewed thi myght in me, Both dede and doluen, this is the fourthe day. By certayne singnes here may men see How that thou art Goddis sone verray. All tho that trulye trastis in the Schall neuere dye, this dar I saye. Therfore yoe folke in fere, Menske hym with mayne and myght, His lawes luke that yoe lere, THan will he lede yoou to his light. Maria Here may men fynde a faythfull frende THat thus has couered vs of oure care. Martha Jesu my lord and maistir hende, Of this we thanke the euermore. Jesus Sisteres, I may no lenger lende, To othir folke nowe bus me fare, And to Jerusalem will I wende For thyngis that muste be fulfilled there. Therfore rede I you right, My men, to wende with me. YOe that haue sene this sight My blissyng with yoo be. Play 25Jesus To me takis tent and giffis gud hede My dere discipulis that ben here, I schall yoou telle that shal be indede: My tyme to passe hense it drawith nere, And by this skill, Mannys sowle to saue fro sorowes sere THat loste was ill. From heuen to erth whan I dyssende Rawnsom to make I made promys, The prophicie nowe drawes to ende, My fadirs wille forsoth it is THat sente me hedyr. Petir, Phelippe, I schall yoou blisse, And go togedir Vnto yoone castell that is yoou agayne, Gois with gud harte and tarie noyot, My comaundement to do be yoe bayne. Also I yoou charge loke it be wrought THat schal yoe fynde An asse this feste als yoe had soght. YOe hir vnbynde With hir foole, and to me hem bring, THat I on hir may sitte a space, So the prophicy clere menyng May be fulfillid here in this place: `Doghtyr Syon, Loo, thi lorde comys rydand an asse THe to opon'. Yf any man will yoou gaynesaye, Say that youre lorde has nede of tham And schall restore thame this same day Vnto what man will tham clayme; Do thus this thyng. Go furthe yoe both and be ay bayne In my blissyng. Peter Jesu, maistir evyn at thy wille And at thi liste vs likis to doo. Yone beste whilke thou desires the tille Euen at thi will schall come the too, Vnto thin esse. Sertis lord, we will thedyre all go THe for to plese. Philip Lord, the to plese we are full bayne Bothe nyght and day to do thi will. Go we brothere, with all oure mayne My lordis desire for to fulfill, For prophycye Vs bus it do to hym by skyll THarto dewly. Peter YOa, brodir Phelipp, behalde grathely, For als he saide we schulde sone fynde, Methinke yoone bestis before myn eye THai are the same we schulde vnbynde. THerfore frely Go we to hym that thame gan bynde, And aske mekely. Philip The beestis are comen, wele I knawe, Therfore vs nedis to aske lesse leue; And oure maistir kepis the lawe We may thame take tyter, I preue. For noght we lett, For wele I watte oure tyme is breue, Go we tham fett. Janitor Saie, what are yoe that makis here maistrie, To loose thes bestis withoute leverie? Yow semes to bolde, sen noght that yoe Hase here to do; therfore rede I Such thingis to sesse, Or ellis yoe may falle in folye And grette diseasse. Peter Sir, with thi leue, hartely we praye THis beste that we myght haue. Janitor To what intente firste shall yoe saye, And than I graunte what yoe will crave Be gode resoune. Philip Oure maistir sir, that all may saue, Aske by chesoune. Janitor What man is that yoe maistir call Swilke priuelege dare to hym clayme? Peter Jesus, of Jewes kyng and ay be schall, Of Nazareth prophete the same. THis same is he, Both God and man withouten blame, THis trist wele we. Janitor Sirs, of that prophette herde I haue, But telle me firste playnly, wher is hee? Philip He comes at hande so God me saue, THat lorde we lefte at Bephagé, He bidis vs there. Janitor Sir, take this beste with herte full free, And forthe yoe fare. And if yoou thynke it be to don, I schall declare playnly his comyng To the chiffe of the Jewes, that thei may sone Assemble same to his metyng; What is your rede? Peter THou sais full wele in thy menyng. Do forthe thi dede, And sone this beste we schall the bring And it restore as resoune will. Janitor This tydyngis schall haue no laynyng, But be the citezens declared till Of this cyté. I suppose fully that thei wolle Come mete that free. And sen I will thei warned be, Both yoonge and olde in ilke a state, For his comyng I will tham mete To late tham witte, withoute debate. Lo, wher thei stande, The citezens cheff withoute debate Of all this lande. He that is rewler of all right And freely schoppe both sande and see, He saue yoou, lordyngis gayly dight, And kepe yoou in yooure semelyté And all honoure. Burger 1 Welcome porter, what novelté? Telle vs this owre. Janitor Sirs, novelté I can yoou tell And triste thame fully as for trewe: Her comes of kynde of Israell Att hande the prophette called Jesu, Lo, this same day, Rydand on an asse. THis tydandis newe Consayue yoe may. Burger 2 And is that prophette Jesu nere? Off hym I haue herde grete ferlis tolde. He dois grete wounderes in contrees seere, He helys the seke, both yoonge and olde, And the blynde giffis tham ther sight. Both dome and deffe, as hymselffe wolde, He cures thame right. Burger 3 YOa, v thowsand men with loves fyue He fedde, and ilkone hadde inowe. Watir to wyne he turned ryue, He garte corne growe withouten plogh Wher are was none. To dede men als he gaffe liffe, Lazar was one. Burger 4 In oure tempill if he prechid Agaynste the pepull that leued wrong, And also new lawes if he teched Agaynste oure lawis we vsed so lang, And saide pleynlye The olde schall waste, the new schall gang, THat we schall see. Burger 5 YOa, Moyses lawe he cowde ilke dele And all the prophettis on a rowe, He telles tham so that ilke a man may fele And what thei say interly knowe Yf thei were dyme. What the prophettis saide in ther sawe, All longis to hym. Burger 6 Emanuell also by right THai calle that prophette by this skill, He is the same that are was hyght Be Ysaye befor vs till, THus saide full clere: Loo, a maydyn that knew neuere ille A childe schuld bere. Burger 7 Dauid spake of hym I wene And lefte witnesse yoe knowe ilkone, He saide the frute of his corse clene Shulde royally regne vpon his trone, And therfore he Of Dauid kyn and othir none Oure kyng schal be. Burger 8 Sirs, methynketh yoe saie right wele And gud ensampelys furth yoe bryng, And sen we thus this mater fele Go we hym meete as oure owne kyng, And kyng hym call. What is youre counsaill in this thyng? Now say yoe all. Burger 1 Agaynste resoune I will noyot plete For wele I wote oure kyng he is. Whoso agaynst his kyng liste threte He is noyot wise, he dose amys. Porter, come nere. What knowlage hast thou of his comyng? Tels vs all here, And than we will go mete that free, And hym honnoure as we wele awe Worthely tyll oure citee, And for oure souerayne lord hym knawe, In whome we triste. Janitor Sirs, I schall telle yoou all on rowe And yoe will lyste. Of his discipillis, ij this day Where that I stode thei faire me grette, And on ther maistir halfe gan praye Oure comon asse that thei myght gete Bot for a while, Wheron ther maistir softe myght sitte Space of a mile. And all this mater thai me tolde Right haly as I saie to yoou, And the asse thei haue right as thei wolde And sone will bringe agayne I trowe, So thai beheste. What yoe will doo avise yoou nowe, THus thinke me beste. Burger 2 Trewlye as for me I say I rede we make vs redy bowne, Hym to mete gudly this day And hym ressayue with grete rennowne As worthy is. And therfore sirs, in felde and towne YOe fulfille this. Janitor YOa, and yooure childer with yoou take, THoff all in age that thei be yoonge, YOe may fare the bettir for ther sake Thurgh the blissing of so goode a kyng, THis is no dowte. Burger 3 I kan the thanke for thy saying, We will hym lowte. And hym to mete I am right bayne On the beste maner that I cane, For I desire to se hym fayne And hym honnoure as his awne man, Sen the soth I see. Kyng of Juuys we call hym than, Oure kyng is he. Burger 4 Oure kyng is he-that is no lesse- Oure awne lawe to it cordis will, THe prophettis all bare full witnesse Qwilke of hym secrete gone telle, And thus wolde say: `Emang youreselff schall come grete seele Thurgh God verray'. Burger 5 THis same is he, ther is non othir, Was vs beheest full lange before, For Moyses saide als oure owne brothir A newe prophette God schulde restore. THerfore loke yoe What yoe will do, withouten more, Oure kyng is he. Burger 6 Of Juda come owre kyng so gent, Of Jesse, Dauid, Salamon; Also by his modir kynne take tente, THe genolagye beres witnesse on, This is right playne. Hym to honnoure right as I can I am full bayne. Burger 7 Of youre clene witte and youre consayte I am full gladde in harte and thought, And hym to mete withouten latt I am redy, and feyne will noght, Bot with yoou same Go hym agayne vs blisse hath brought, With myrthe and game. Burger 8 YOoure argumentis thai are so clere I can noyot saie but graunte you till, For whanne I of that counsaille here I coveyte hym with feruent wille Onys for to see, I trowe fro thens I schall Bettir man be. Burger 1 Go we than with processioun To mete that comely as vs awe, With braunches, floures and vnysoune. With myghtfull songes her on a rawe Our childir schall Go synge before, that men may knawe. Burger 2 To this graunte we all. Peter Jesu, lord and maistir free, Als thou comaunde so haue we done. THis asse here we haue brought to the, What is thi wille thou schewe vs sone And tarie noyot, And than schall we withouten hune Fulfill thi thouyot. Jesus I thanke yoou brethere mylde of mode. Do on this asse youre clothis yoe laye, And lifte me vppe with hertis gud THat I on hir may sitte this daye In my blissing. Philip Lord, thi will to do allway We graunte this thing. Jesus Now my brethere with gud chere Gyues gode entente, for ryde I will Vnto yoone cyté yoe se so nere. YOe shall me folowe sam and still Als I are sayde. Philip Lord, as the lyst we graunte the till, And halde vs payde. Cecus A, lorde, that all this world has made, Bothe sonne and mone, nyght and day, What noyse is this that makis me gladde? Fro whens it schulde come I can noyot saye, Or what it mene. Yf any man walke in this way Telle hym me bedene. Pauper Man, what ayles the to crye? Where wolde thou be? THou say me here. Cecus A, sir, a blynde man am I And ay has bene of tendyr yoere Sen I was borne. I harde a voyce with nobill chere Here me beforne. Pauper Man, will thou oght that I can do? Cecus YOa sir, gladly wolde I witte Yf thou couthe oght declare me to This myrthe I herde, what mene may it Or vndirstande? Pauper Jesu the prophite full of grace Comys here at hande, And all the cetezens thay are bowne Gose hym to mete with melodye, With the fayrest processioun That euere was sene in this Jury; He is right nere. Cecus Sir, helpe me to the strete hastely, THat I may here THat noyse, and also that I myght thurgh grace My syght of hym to craue I wolde. Pauper Loo, he is here at this same place. Crye faste on hym, loke thou be bolde, With voyce right high. Cecus Jesu the sone of Dauid calde, THou haue mercy. Allas, I crye, he heris me noyot, He has no ruthe of my mysfare. He turnes his herre, where is his thought? Pauper Cry somwhat lowdar, loke thou noyot spare, So may thou spye. Cecus Jesu the saluer of all sare, To me giffis gode hye. Philip Cesse man and crye noyot soo, The voyce of the pepill gose the by. THe aghe sette still and tente giffe to, Here passez the prophite of mercye- THou doys amys. Cecus A, Dauid sone, to the I crye, THe kyng of blisse. Peter Lorde, haue mercy and late hym goo, He can noyot cesse of his crying. He folows vs both to and froo, Graunte hym his boone and his askyng And late hym wende. We gette no reste or that this thyng Be broyot to ende. Jesus What wolde thou man I to the dede In this present? Telle oppynly. Cecus Lorde, my syght is fro me hydde, THou graunte me it, I crye mercy, THis wolde I haue. Jesus Loke vppe nowe with chere blythely, THi faith shall the saue. Cecus Wirschippe and honnoure ay to the With all the seruice that can be done, The kyng of blisse loued mote he be THat thus my sight hath sente so sone, And by grete skill. I was are blynde as any stone: I se at wille. Claudus A, wele wer tham that euere had liffe, Olde or yonge whedir it were, Might welde ther lymmes withouten striffe, Go with this mirthe that I see here And contynewe; For I am sette in sorowes sere THat ay ar newe. THou lord that schope both nyght and day, For thy mercy haue mynde on me And helpe me lorde, as thou wele may [... ...] i may noyot gang. For I am lame as men may se And has ben lang. For wele I wote, as knowyn is ryffe, Bothe dome and deffe thou grauntist tham grace, And also the dede that thou hauyst geuen liff; Therfore graunte me lord in this place My lymbis to welde. Jesus My man, ryse and caste the crucchys gode space Her in the felde, And loke in trouthe thou stedfast be, And folow me furth with gode menyng. Claudus Lorde, lo my crouchis whare thei flee Als ferre as I may late tham flenge With bothe my hende. THat euere we haue metyng Now I defende, For I was halte of lyme and lame And I suffered tene and sorowes inowe. Ay-lastand lord, loued be thi name, I am als light as birde on bowe. Ay be thou blist, Such grace hast thou schewed to me Lorde, as the list. Zaché Sen firste this worlde was made of noyot And all thyng sette in equité, Such ferly thyng was neuere non wroght As men this tyme may see with eye. What it may mene- I can noyot saye what it may be, Comforte or tene. And cheffely of a prophete new THat mekill is profite, and that of latte Both day and nyght thai hym assewe, Oure pepill same thurgh strete and gatte [... ...] Oure olde lawes as nowe thei hatte And his kepis yoare. Men fro deth to liffe he rayse, The blynde and dome geve speche and sight, Gretely therfor oure folke hym prayse And folowis hym both day and nyght Fro towne to towne. Thay calle hym prophite be right As of renowne. And yoit I meruayle of that thyng, Of puplicans sen prince am I Of hym I cowthe haue no knowyng, Yf all I wolde haue comen hym neyoe, Arly and late. For I am lawe, and of men high Full is the gate. Bot sen no bettir may befalle I thynke what beste is for to doo, I am schorte yoe knawe wele all, THerfore yoone tre I will go too And in it clyme. Whedir he come or passe me fro I schall se hym. A, nobill tree thou secomoure, I blisse hym that the on the erthe broght. Now may I see both here and thore That vndir me hid may be noyot. THerfore in the Wille I bidde in herte and thought Till I hym se. Vnto the prophete come to towne Her will I bide what so befalle. Jesus Do Zaché, do faste come downe. Zaché Lorde, even at thi wille hastely I schall, And tarie noght. To the on knes lord here I fall For synne I wroght; And welcome, prophete trast and trewe, With all the pepull that to the lange. Jesus Zaché, thi seruice new Schall make the clene of all the wrong THat thou haste done. Zaché Lorde, I lette noyot for this thrang Her to say sone Me schamys with synne but ouyot to mende. Mi synne forsake therfore I will, Halue my gud I haue vnspende Poure folke to geue it till, THis will I fayne. Whom I begylyd to hym I will Make asith agayne. Jesus Thy clere confessioun schall the clense, THou may be sure of lastand lyffe. Vnto thi house withouten offense Is graunted pees withouten striffe. Farewele Zaché. Zaché Lord, the lowte ay man and wiffe, Blist myght thou be. Jesus My dere discipulis, beholde and see, Vnto Jerusalem we schall assende, Man sone schall ther betrayed be And gevyn into his enmys hende With grete dispitte. Ther spitting on hym ther schall thei spende And smertly smyte. Petir, take this asse me fro And lede it where thou are it toke. I murne, I sigh, I wepe also Jerusalem on the to loke. And so may thou rewe THat euere thou thi kyng forsuke And was vntrewe. For stone on stone schall none be lefte But doune to the grounde all schal be caste, Thy game, thi gle, al fro the refte And all for synne that thou done hast. THou arte vnkynde; Agayne thi kyng thou hast trespast, Haue this in mynde. Peter Porter, take here thyn asse agayne, At hande my lorde comys on his fette. Janitor Behalde where all the burgeis bayne Comes with wirschippe hym to mete. THerfore I will Late hym abide here in this strete And lowte hym till. Burger 1 Hayll prophette preued withouten pere, Hayll prince of pees schall euere endure, Hayll kyng comely, curteyse and clere, Hayll souerayne semely, to synfull sure; To the all bowes. Hayll lord louely oure cares may cure, Hayll kyng of Jewes. Burger 2 Hayll florisshand floure that neuere shall fade, Hayll vyolett vernand with swete odoure, Hayll marke of myrthe oure medecyne made, Hayll blossome bright, hayll oure socoure, Hayll kyng comely. Hayll menskfull man, we the honnoure With herte frely. Burger 3 Hayll Dauid sone, doughty in dede, Hayll rose ruddy, hayll birrall clere, Hayll, welle of welthe may make vs mede, Hayll saluer of oure sores sere, We wirschippe the. Hayll hendfull, with solas sere Welcome thou be Burger 4 Hayll blisfull babe, in Bedleme borne, Hayll boote of all oure bittir balis, Hayll, sege that schoppe bothe even and morne, Hayll talker trystefull of trew tales, Hayll comely knyght, Hayll of mode that moste preuayles To saue the tyght. Burger 5 Hayll dyamaunde with drewry dight, Hayll jasper gentill of Jury, Hayll lylly lufsome lemyd with lyght, Hayll balme of boote, moyste and drye To all has nede. Hayll barne most blist of mylde Marie, Hayll all oure mede. Burger 6 Hayll conquerour, hayll most of myght, Hayll rawnsoner of synfull all, Hayll pytefull, hayll louely light, Hayll to vs welcome be schall, Hayll kyng of Jues. Hayll comely corse that we the call With mirthe that newes. Burger 7 Hayll sonne ay schynand with bright bemes, Hayll lampe of liff schall neuere waste, Hayll lykand lanterne, luffely lemys, Hayll texte of trewthe the trew to taste. Hayll kyng and sire, Hayll maydens chylde that menskid hir most, We the desire. Burger 8 Hayll domysman dredful, that all schall deme, Hayll that all quyk and dede schall lowte, Hayll whom worschippe moste will seme, Hayll whom all thyng schall drede and dowte. We welcome the, Hayll and welcome of all abowte To owre ceté. Play 26Pilate Vndir the ryallest roye of rente and renowne Now am I regent of rewle this region in reste, Obeye vnto bidding bud busshoppis me bowne And bolde men that in batayll makis brestis to breste. To me betaught is the tent this towre-begon towne, For traytoures tyte will I taynte the trewthe for to triste. The dubbyng of my dingnité may noyot be done downe, Nowdir with duke nor dugeperes, my dedis are so dreste. My desire muste dayly be done With thame that are grettest of game, And theragayne fynde I but fone, Wherfore I schall bettir ther bone- But he that me greues for a grone, Beware, for wyscus I am. Pounce Pilatt of thre partis than is my propir name, I am a perelous prince to proue wher I peere. Emange the philosofers firste ther fanged I my fame, Wherfore I fell to affecte I fynde noyot my feere. He schall full bittirly banne that bide schall my blame, If all my blee be as bright as blossome on brere, For sone his liffe shall he lose or left be for lame THat lowtes noyot to me lowly nor liste noyot to leere. And thus sen we stande in oure state Als lordis with all lykyng in lande, Do and late vs wete if yoe wate Owthir, sirs, of bayle or debate THat nedis for to be handeled full hate, Sen all youre helpe hanges in my hande. Caiphas Sir, and for to certefie the soth in youre sight, As to yoou for oure souerayne semely we seke. Pilate Why, is ther any myscheue that musteres his myyot Or malice thurgh meene menn vs musters to meke? Anna YOa sir, ther is a ranke swayne whos rule is noyot right, For thurgh his romour in this reme hath raysede mekill reke. Pilate I here wele yoe hate hym; youre hartis are on heght, And ellis if I helpe wolde his harmes for to eke. But why are yoe barely thus brathe? Bees rewly and ray fourth youre reasoune. Caiphas Tille vs sir his lore is full lothe. Pilate Beware that we wax noyot to wrothe. Anna Why sir, to skyfte fro his skath We seke for youre socoure this sesoune. Pilate And if that wrecche in oure warde haue wrought any wrong, Sen we are warned we walde witte, and wille or we wende. But and his sawe be lawfull, legge noyot to lange, For we schall leue hym if us list with luffe here to lende. Doctor 1 And yf that false faytor youre fortheraunce may fang, THan fele I wele that oure folke mon fayle of a frende. Sir, the strenghe of his steuen ay still is so strange That but he schortely be schent he schappe vs to schende, For he kennes folke hym for to call Grete God son-thus greues vs that gome- And sais that he sittande be schall In high heuen, for there is his hall. Pilate And frendis, if that force to hym fall It semes noyot yoe schall hym consume. But that hymselfe is the same yoe saide schulde descende YOoure seede and yoou then all for to socoure. Caiphas A, softe sir, and sese, For of Criste whan he comes no kynne schall be kenned, But of this caytiffe kynreden we knawe the encrese. He lykens hym to be lyke God, ay-lastand to lende, To lifte vppe the laby, to lose or relesse. Pilate His maistreys schulde moue yoou youre mode for to amende. Anna Nay, for swilke mys fro malice we may noyot vs meese, For he sais he schall deme vs, that dote, And that tille vs is dayne or dispite. Pilate To noye hym nowe is youre noote, But yoitt the lawe lyes in my lotte. Doctor 1 And yf yoe will witt sir, yoe wotte THat he is wele worthy to wyte. For in oure temple has he taught by tymes moo than tenne Where tabillis full of tresoure lay to telle and to trye, Of oure cheffe mony-changers-butte, curstely to kenne, He caste tham ouere, that caystiffe, and counted noyot therby. Caiphas Loo sir, this is a periurye to prente vndir penne, Wherfore make yoe that appostita, we praye yoou, to plye. Pilate Howe mene yoe? Caiphas Sir, to mort hym for mouyng of men. Pilate THan schulde we make hym to morne but thurgh yooure maistrie. Latte be sirs, and move that no more; But what in youre temple betyde? Miles 1 We, thare sir he skelpte oute of score THat stately stode selland ther store. Pilate THan felte he tham fawté before And made the cause wele to be kydde. But what taught he that tyme, swilk tales as thou telles? Miles 1 Sir, that oure tempill is the toure of his troned sire, And thus to prayse in that place oure prophettis compellis, Tille hym that has posté of prince and of empire; And thei make domus domini that deland thare dwellis THe denn of the derfenes and ofte that thei desire. Pilate Loo, is he noght a mad man that for youre mede melles, Sen yoe ymagyn amys that makeles to myre? YOoure rankoure is raykand full rawe. Caiphas Nay nay sir, we rewle vs but right. Pilate Forsothe, yoe ar ouer-cruell to knawe. Caiphas Why sir? For he wolde lose oure lawe Hartely we hym hate as we awe, And therto schulde yoe mayntayne oure myght. For why, vppon oure Sabbott day the seke makes he saffe And will noyot sesse for oure sawes to synke so in synne. Miles 2 Sir, he coueres all that comes recoueraunce to craue But in a schorte contynuaunce, that kennes all oure kynne. But he haldis noght oure haly dayes, harde happe myght hym haue, And therfore hanged be he and that by the halse. Pilate A, hoo sir nowe, and holde in. For thoff yoe gange thus gedy hym gilteles to graue, Withouten grounde yoow gaynes noght swilke greffe to begynne; And loke youre leggyng be lele, Withowtyn any tryfils to telle. Anna For certayne owre sawes dare we seele. Pilate And than may we prophite oure pele. Caiphas Sir, bot his fawtes wer fele We mente noyot of hym for to melle. For he pervertis oure pepull that proues his prechyng, And for that poynte yoe schulde prese his poosté to paire. Doctor 2 YOa sir, and also that caytiff he callis hym oure kyng, And for that cause our comons are casten in care. Pilate And if so be, that borde to bayll will hym bryng And make hym boldely to banne the bones that hym bare. For-why that wrecche fro oure wretthe schal not wryng Or ther be wrought on hym wrake. Doctor 1 So wolde we it ware, For so schulde yoe susteyne youre seele And myldely haue mynde for to meke yoou. Pilate Wele witte yoe, this werke schall be wele, For kende schall that knave be to knele. Doctor 2 And so that oure force he may feele All samme for the same we beseke yoou. Judas Ingenti pro inuria- hym Jesus, that Jewe Vnjust vnto me, Judas, I juge to be lathe. For at oure soper as we satte, the sothe to pursewe, With Symond luprus, full sone my skiffte come to scathe. Tille hym ther brought one a boyste my bale for to brewe That baynly to his bare feete to bowe was full braythe, Sho anoynte tham with an oynement that nobill was and newe, But for that werke that sche wrought I wexe woundir wrothe. And this-to discouer-was my skill: For of his penys purser was I, And what that me taught was vntill The tente parte that stale I ay still. But nowe for me wantis of my will THat bargayne with bale schall he by. THat same oynement, I saide, might same haue bene solde For siluer penys in a sowme thre hundereth, and fyne Haue ben departid to poure men as playne pité wolde; But for the poore, ne thare parte priked me no peyne- But me tened for the tente parte, the trewthe to beholde, That thirty pens of iij hundereth so tyte I schulde tyne. And for I mysse this mony I morne on this molde, Wherfore for to mischeue this maistir of myne And therfore faste forthe will I flitte The princes of prestis vntill, And selle hym full sone or that I sitte For therty pens in a knotte knytte. THus-gatis full wele schall he witte THat of my wretthe wreke me I will. Do open, porter, the porte of this prowde place That I may passe to youre princes to proue for youre prowe. Janitor Go hense thou glorand gedlyng, God geue the ille grace, Thy glyfftyng is so grymly thou gars my harte growe. Judas Goode sir, be toward this tyme and tarie noght my trace, For I haue tythandis to telle. Janitor YOa, som tresoune I trowe, For I fele by a figure in youre fals face It is but foly to feste affeccioun in yoou. For Mars he hath morteysed his mark, Eftir all lynes of my lore, And sais yoe are wikkid of werk And bothe a strange theffe and a stark. Judas Sir, thus at my berde and yoe berk It semes it schall sitte yow full sore. Janitor Say bittilbrowed bribour, why blowes thou such boste? Full false in thy face in faith can I fynde. THou arte combered in curstnesse and caris to this coste, To marre men of myght haste thou marked in thy mynde. Judas Sir, I mene of no malice but mirthe meve I moste. Janitor Say, on-hanged harlott, I holde the vnhende, Thou lokist like a lurdayne his liffelod hadde loste. Woo schall I wirke the away but thou wende. Judas A, goode sir, take tente to my talkyng this tyde, For tythandis full trew can I telle. Janitor Say brethell, I bidde the abide, THou chaterist like a churle that can chyde. Judas YOa sir, but and the truthe schulde be tryed Of myrthe are ther materes I mell, For thurgh my dedis youre dugeperes fro dere may be drawen. Janitor What, demes thou till oure dukes that doole schulde be dight? Judas Nay sir, so saide I noght. If I be callid to counsaille that cause schall be knawen Emang that comely companye, to clerke and to knyght. Janitor Byde me here bewchere or more blore be blowen, And I schall buske to the benke wher baneres are bright And saie vnto oure souereynes, or seede more be sawen, THat swilke a seege as thiselff sewes to ther sight. My lorde nowe of witte that is well, I come for a cas to be kydde. Pilate We, speke on and spare not thi spell. Caiphas YOa, and if vs mystir te mell, Sen yoe bere of bewté the bell, Blythely schall we bowe as yoe bidde. Janitor Sir, withoute this abatyng ther houes as I hope A hyne helte-full of ire, for hasty he is. Pilate What comes he fore? Janitor I kenne hym noght, but he is cladde in a cope, He cares with a kene face vncomely to kys. Pilate Go gete hym that his greffe we grathely may grope, So no oppen langage be goyng amys. Janitor Comes on bylyue to my lorde and if the liste to lepe, But vttir so thy langage that thou lette noght thare blys. Judas That lorde, sirs, myght susteyne yooure seele THat floure is of fortune and fame. Pilate Welcome, thy wordis are but wele. Caiphas Say, harste thou knave, can thou not knele? Pilate Loo, here may men faute in you fele, Late be sir youre scornyng, for schame. Bot bewshere, be noyot abayst to byde at the bar. Judas Before you sirs to be brought abowte haue I bene, And allway for youre worschippe. Anna Say, wotte thou any were? Judas Of werke sir that hath wretthid yoou I wotte what I meene, But I wolde make a marchaundyse youre myscheffe to marre. Pilate And may thou soo? Judas Els madde I such maistries to mene. Anna THan kennes thou of som comberaunce oure charge for to chere? For cosyne, thou art cruell. Judas My cause sir is kene. For if yoe will bargayne or by, Jesus this tyme will I selle yoou. Doctor 1 My blissing sone haue thou forthy- Loo, here is a sporte for to spye. Judas And hym dar I hete yoou in hye, If yoe will be toward I telle yoou. Pilate What hytist thou? Judas Judas Scariott. Pilate THou art a juste man THat will Jesus be justified by oure jugement. But howe-gates bought schall he be? Bidde furthe thy bargayne. Judas But for a litill betyng to bere fro this bente. Pilate Now what schall we pay? Judas Sir, thirti pens and plete, no more than. Pilate Say, ar yoe plesid of this price he preces to present? Doctor 2 Ellis contrarie we oure consciens, consayue sen we can THat Judas knawes hym culpabill. Pilate I call yoou consent. But Judas, a knott for to knytt, Wilt thou to this comenaunt accorde? Judas YOa, at a worde. Pilate Welcome is it. Miles 2 Take therof, a traytour tyte. Miles 1 Now, leue ser, late no man wete How this losell laykis with his lord. Pilate Why, dwellis he with that dochard whos dedis hase us drouyd? Miles 1 THat hase he done ser and dose, no dowte is this day. Pilate Than wolde we knawe why this knave thus cursidly contryued. Miles 2 Enquere hym, sen yoe can best kenne if he contrarie. Pilate Say man, to selle thi maistir what mysse hath he moved? Judas For of als mekill mony he made me delay, Of yoou as I resayue schall but right be reproued. Anna I rede noght that yoe reken vs oure rewle so to ray, For that the false fende schall the fang. Miles 1 When he schall wante of a wraste. Doctor 1 To whome wirke we wittandly wrang. Doctor 2 Tille hym bot yoe hastely hang. Doctor 3 YOoure langage yoe lay oute to lang. But Judas, we trewly the trast, For truly thou moste lerne vs that losell to lache, Or of lande thurgh a lirte that lurdayne may lepe. Judas I schall yoou teche a token hym tyte for to take Wher he is thryngand in the thrang, withouten any threpe. Miles 1 We knawe hym noght. Judas Take kepe than that caytiffe to catche The whilke that I kisse. Miles 2 THat comes wele the, corious, I cleepe! But yoitt to warne vs wisely allwayes muste yoe wacche. Whan thou schall wende forthwith we schall walke a wilde hepe, And therfore besye loke now thou be. Judas YOis, yois, a space schall I spie vs Als sone as the sonne is sette, as yoe see. Miles 1 Go forthe, for a traytoure ar yoe. Miles 2 YOa, and a wikkid man. Doctor 1 Why, what is he? Doctor 2 A losell ser, but lewté shuld lye vs. He is trappid full of trayne, the truthe for to trist, I holde it but folye his faythe for to trowe. Pilate Abide in my blyssing and late youre breste, For it is beste for oure bote in bayle for to bowe. And Judas, for oure prophite we praye the be prest. Judas YOitt hadde I noght a peny to purvey for my prowe. Pilate THou schalte haue delyueraunce belyue at thi list, So that thou schall haue liking oure lordschipp to loue. And therfore Judas mende thou thy mone And take ther thi siluere all same. Judas YOa, nowe is my grete greffe ouere-gone. Miles 1 Be lyght than. Judas YOis, latte me allone, For tytte schall that taynte be tone And therto jocounde and joly I am. Pilate Judas, to holde thi behest be hende for oure happe, And of vs helpe and vpholde we hete the to haue. Judas I schall bekenne yoou his corse in care for to clappe. Anna And more comforte in this case we coveyte not to craue. Miles 1 Fro we may reche that rekeles his ribbis schall we rappe, And make that roy or we rest for rennyng to raffe. Pilate Nay sirs, all if yoe scourge hym yoe schende noyot his schappe, For if the sotte be sakles vs sittis hym to saue. Wherfore when yoe go schall to gete hym Vnto his body brew yoe no bale. Miles 2 Our liste is fro leping to lette hym, But in youre sight sownde schall ve sette hym. Pilate Do flitte nowe forthe till yoe fette hym With solace all same to youre sale. Play 27Jesus Pees be both be day and nyght Vntill this house and till all that is here. Here will I holde as I haue hight The feeste of Paas with frendis in feere. Marcellus Maistir, we haue arayed full right Seruise that semes for youre sopere. Oure lambe is roste and redy dight, As Moyses lawe will lely lere. Jesus That is, ilke man that has Pepill in his awne posté Shall roste a lambe at Paas, To hym and his meyné. Andrew Maistir, the custome wele we knawe That with oure elthers euer has bene, How ilke man with his meyné awe To roste a lambe and ete it clene. Jesus I thanke yoou sothtly of youre sawe, For yoe saye as youreselffe has sene. Therfore array yoou all on rawe, Myselfe schall parte itt yoou betwene. Wherfore I will that yoe Ette therof euere-ilkone, The remelaunt parted schall be To the poure that purueyse none. Of Moyses lawes here make I an ende In som party, but noght in all. My comaundement schall othirwise be kende With tham that men schall craftely call. But the lambe of Pase that here is spende, Whilke Jewes vses grete and small, Euere forward nowe I itt deffende Fro Cristis folke what so befall. In that stede schall be sette A newe lawe vs bytwene, But who therof schall ette Behoues to be wasshed clene. For that new lawe whoso schall lere, In harte tham bus be clene and chaste. Marcelle myn awne discipill dere, Do vs haue watir here in hast. Marcellus Maistir, it is all redy here, And here a towell clene to taste. Jesus Commes forthe with me all in feere, My wordis schall noght be wroght in waste. Settis youre feete fourth, late see, They schall be wasshen sone. Peter A, lorde, with thi leue, of thee THat dede schall noyot be done. I schall neuere make my membres mete, Of my souerayne seruice to see. Jesus Petir, bott if thou latte me wasshe thi feete THou getis no parte in blisse with me. Peter A, mercy lorde and maistir swete, Owte of that blisse that I noght be- Wasshe on my lorde to all be wete, Both hede and hande, beseke I the. Jesus Petir, thou wotiste noyot yoitt What this werke will bemene. Hereaftir schall thou witte, And so schall yoe all bedene. YOoure lorde and maistir yoe me call, And so I am, all welthe to welde. Here haue I knelid vnto yoou all, To wasshe youre feete as yoe haue feled. Ensaumple of me take yoe schall Euer for to yoeme in yoouthe and elde, To be buxsome in boure and hall, Ilkone for to bede othir belde. For all-if yoe be trewe And lele of loue ilkone, YOe schall fynde othir ay newe To greue whan I am gone. Jacobus Now sen oure maistir sais he schall Wende and will not telle vs whedir, Whilke of vs schall be princepall? Late loke now whils we dwell togedir. Jesus I wotte youre will both grete and small, And youre high hartis I here tham hedir; To whilke of yoou such fare schulde fall THat myght yoe carpe when yoe come thedir, Where it so schulde be tyde Of such materes to melle. But first behoues yoou bide Fayndyngis full ferse and felle. Here schall I sette yoou for to see THis yoonge childe for insaumpills seere, Both meke and mylde of harte is he, And fro all malice, mery of chere; So meke and mylde but if yoe be [... ...] [... ...] Jesus Quod facis fac cicius: THat thou schall do, do sone. Thomas Allas, so wilsom wightis as we Was neuere in worlde walkand in wede, Oure maistir sais his awne meyné Has betrayed hym to synfull seede. Jacobus A, Jhon, sen thou sittist nexte his kne, We pray the spire hym for oure spede. John Domine, quis est qui tradit te? Lord, who schall do that doulfull dede? Allas, oure playe is paste, THis false forward is feste. I may no lenger laste, For bale myn herte may breste. Judas Now is tyme to me to gang, For here begynnes noye all of newe. My fellaws momellis thame emang THat I schulde alle this bargayne brewe- And certis thai schall noyot wene it wrang. To the prince of prestis I schall pursue, And thei schall lere hym othir ought long That all his sawes sore schall hym rewe. I wotte whedir he remoues With his meyné ilkone, I schall telle to the Jewes And tyte he schalle be tane. Jesus I warne yoou nowe my frendis free, Sese to ther sawes that I schall say: The fende is wrothe with yoou and me And will yoou marre if that he may. But Petir, I haue prayed for the, So that thou schall noyot drede his dray; And comforte thou this meyné And wisse hem whan I am gone away. Peter A, lorde, where wilte thou lende? I schall lende in that steede, And with the schall I wende Euermore in lyffe and dede. Andrew No wordely drede schall me withdrawe That I schall with the leue and dye. Thomas Certis, so schall we all on rawe, Ellis mekill woo were we worthy. Jesus Petir, I saie to the this sawe THat thou schalte fynde no fantasie: THis ilke nyght or the cokkys crowe Shall thou thre tymes my name denye, And saye thou knewe me neuere Nor no meyné of myne. Peter Allas, lorde, me were lever Be putte to endles pyne. Jesus As I yow saie so schall it bee, Ye nedis non othir recours to craue. All that in worlde is wretyn of me Shall be fulfilled, for knyght or knave. I am the herde, the schepe are yoe, And whane the herde schall harmes haue The flokke schall be full fayne to flee, And socoure seke thameselffe to saue. YOe schall whan I am slayne In grete myslykyng lende, But whanne I ryse agayne THan schall youre myrthe be mende. YOe haue bene bowne my bale to bete, Therfore youre belde ay schall I be. And for yoe did in drye and wete My comaundementis in ilke contré, The kyngdome of heuen I you behete Euen as my fadir has highte itt me. With gostely mete there schall yoe mete And on twelffe seeges sitte schall yoe, For yoe trewlye toke yoeme In worlde with me to dwell, There shall yoe sitte to deme Xij kyndis of Israell. But firste yoe schall be wille of wone, And mo wathes then yoe of wene Fro tyme schall come that I be tone, THan schall yoe turne away with tene. And loke that yoe haue swerdis ilkone, And whoso haues non yoou bytwene Shall selle his cote and bye hym one, THus bidde I that yoe do bedene. Satcheles I will yoe haue, And stones to stynte all striffe, Youreselffe for to saue In lenghyng of youre liff. Andrew Maistir, we haue here swerdis twoo Vs with to saue on sidis seere. Jesus Itt is inowe, yoe nedis no moo, For fro all wathis I schall yoou were. Butt ryse now vppe, for we will goo, By this owre enemyes ordand are; My fadir saide it schall be soo, His bidding will I noyot forbere. Loke yoe lere forthe this lawe Als yoe haue herde of me, Alle that wele will itt knawe Ay blessid schall thei bee. Play 28Jesus Beholde, my discipulis that deyne is and dere, My flesshe dyderis and daris for doute of my dede. Myne enemyes will newly be neghand full nere With all the myght if thei may to marre my manhede. But sen yoe are forwakid and wanderede in were, Loke yoe sette yoou doune rathely and reste yooue, I reede. Beis noyot heuy in yooure hertis, but holde yow even here And bidis me a stounde stille in this same steede. Beeis witty and wyse in youre wandyng So that yoe be wakand alway, And lokis nowe prestely yoe pray To my fadir, that yoe falle in no fandyng. Peter YOis lorde, at thy bidding full baynly schall we abide, For thou arte boote of oure bale and bidis for the best. John Lorde, all oure helpe and oure hele, that is noght to hyde, In the-oure faythe and oure foode-all hollye is feste. Jacobus Qwat way is he willid in this worlde wyde, Whedir is he walked, estewarde or weste? Peter YOaa sirs, I schall saye yoou, sittis vs doune on euery ilka side, And late vs nowe rathely here take oure reste; My lymmys are heuy as any leede. John And I muste slepe, doune muste I lye. Jacobus In faithe felawes, right so fare I, I may no lenger holde vppe my hede. Peter Oure liffe of his lyolty his liffe schall he lose, Vnkyndely be crucified and naylyd to a tree. Jesus Baynly of my blissing youre eghen yoe vnclose, So that yoe falle in no fandyng for noght that may be, But prayes fast. John Lorde, som prayer thou kende vs, That somwhat myght mirthe vs or mende vs. Jacobus Fro all fandyng vnfaythfull thou fende vs Here in this worlde of liffe whille we laste. Jesus I schall kenne yoou and comforte yoou and kepe yoou from care. YOe schall be broughte, wete yoe wele, fro bale vnto blisse. Peter YOaa, but lorde, and youre willis were witte wolde we more, Of this prayer so precious late vs noyot mys We beseke the. John For my felows and me alle in feere, Some prayer that is precious to lere. Jacobus Vnto thy fadir that moste is of poure Som solace of socoure to sende the. [... ...] Jesus THe nowys that me neghed hase it nedis not to neuen, For all wate yoe full wele what wayes I haue wente. Instore me and strenghe with a stille steuen, I pray the interly thou take entent THou menske my manhed with mode. My flessh is full dredand for drede, For my jorneys of my manhed I swete now both watir and bloode. THes Jewes hase mente in ther mynde full of malice And pretende me to take withouten any trespasse. But fadir, as thou wate wele, I mente neuere amys, In worde nor in werk I neuer worthy was. Als thou arte bote of all bale and belder of blisse And all helpe and hele in thy hande hase, THou mensk thy manhede, thou mendar of mysse, And if it possible be this payne myght I ouerpasse. And fadir, if thou se it may noght, Be it worthely wrought Euen at thyne awne will, Euermore both myldely and still, With worschippe allway be it wroght. Vnto my discipillis will I go agayne, Kyndely to comforte tham that kacchid are in care. What, are yoe fallen on slepe now euerilkone And the passioun of me in mynde hase no more? What, wille yoe leue me thus lightly and latte me allone In sorowe and in sighyng that sattillis full sore? To whome may I meue me and make nowe my mone? I wolde that yoe wakened, and your will wore. Do Petir sitte vppe nowe, late se, THou arte strongly stedde in this stoure. Might thou noght the space of an owre Haue wakid nowe mildely with me? Peter YOis lorde, with youre leue nowe wille we lere Full warely to were yoou fro alle wandynge. Jesus Beeis wakand and prayes faste all in fere To my fadir, that yoe falle in no fanding, For the euelle spirit is neghand full nere That will yoou tarie at this tyme with his tentyng. And I will wende ther I was withouten any were, But bidis me here baynly in my blissing. Agayne to the mounte I will gang YOitt eftesones where I was ere, But loke that yoe cacche yoow no care, For lely I schall noyot dwelle lange. THou fadir that all formed hase with fode for to fill, I fele by my ferdnes my flessh wolde full fayne Be torned fro this turnement and takyn the vntill, For mased is manhed in mode and in mayne. But if thou se sothly that thi sone sill Withouten surffette of synne thus sakles be slayne, Be it worthly wroght even at thyne awne will, For fadir, att thi bidding am I buxum and bayne. Now wightely agayne will I wende Vnto my discipilis so dere. What, slepe yoe so faste all in fere? I am ferde yoe mon faile of youre frende. But yoitt will I leue yoou and late you allone And eftesones there I was agayne will I wende. Vnto my fadir of myght now make I my mone, As thou arte saluer of all sore som socoure me sende. THe passioun they purpose to putte me vppon, My flesshe is full ferde and fayne wolde defende. At thi wille be itt wrought worthely in wone; Haue mynde of my manhed my mode for to mende, Some comforte me kythe in this case. And fadir, I schall dede taste, I will it noyot deffende- YOitt yf thy willis be, spare me a space. [And seis... ...yght With rappes full rudely... ...the rode rente] Angel Vnto the maker vnmade that moste is of myght Be louyng ay-lastand in light that is lente. Thy fadir that in heuen is moste he vppon highte, Thy sorowes for to sobir to the he hase me sente. For dedis that man done has thy dede schall be dight, And thou with turmentis be tulyd-but take nowe entente, Thy bale schall be for the beste, Thurgh that mannys mys schall be mende. THan schall thou withouten any ende Rengne in thy rialté full of reste. Jesus Now if my flessh ferde be, fadir I am fayne THat myne angwisshe and my noyes are nere at an ende. Vnto my discipilis go will I agayne, Kyndely to comforte tham that mased is in ther mynde. Do slepe yoe nowe sauely, and I schall yoou sayne. Wakyns vppe wightely and late vs hens wende, For als tyte mon I be taken with tresoune and with trayne; My flesshe is full ferde and fayne wolde deffende. Full derfely my dede schall be dight, And als sone as I am tane THan schall yoe forsake me ilkone, And saie neuere yoe sawe me with sight. Peter Nay sothely, I schall neuere my souereyne forsake, If I schulde for the dede darfely here dye. John Nay, such mobardis schall neuere man vs make, Erste schulde we dye all at onys. Jacobus Nowe in faith felows, so shulde I. Jesus YOa, but when tyme is betydde thanne men schalle me take, For all yooure hartely hetyng yoe schall hyde yoou in hy. Lyke schepe that were scharid away schall yoe schake, THer schall none of yoou be balde to byde me than by. Peter Nay sothely, whils I may vayle the I schall were the and wake the, And if all othir forsake the I schall neuere fayntely defayle the. Jesus A, Petir, of swilke bostyng I rede thou late bee, For all thy kene carpyng full kenely I knawe. For ferde of myne enmyse thou schalte sone denye me Thries yoitt full thraly or the cokkes crowe; For ferde of my fomen full fayne be for to flee, And for grete doute of thi dede the to withdrawe. Anna Sir Cayphas, of youre counsaille do sone late vs now see, For lely it langes vs to luke vnto oure lawe. And therfore sir prestely I pray yoou, Sen that we are of counsaille ilkone, That Jesus that traytoure wer tane; Do sone late se sir I pray yoou. Caiphas In certayne sir, and sone schall I saye yoou, I wolde wene by my witte this werke wolde be wele. Late vs justely vs june tille Judas the gente, For he kennes his dygnites full duly ilke a dele, YOa, and beste wote I warande what wayes that he is wente. Anna Now this was wisely saide, als euer haue I seele; And sir, to youre saiyng I saddely will assente, Therfore take vs of oure knyghtis that is stedfast as stele And late Judas go lede tham belyffe wher that he laste lente. Caiphas Full wele sir. Nowe Judas dere neghbour, drawe nere vs. Lo Judas, thus in mynd haue we ment: To take Jesus is oure entent, For thou muste lede vs and lere vs. Judas Sirs, I schall wisse you the way euen at youre awne will- But loke that yoe haue many myghty men That is both strang and sterand, and stedde hym stone stille. Anna YOis Judas, but be what knowlache shall we that corse kenne? Judas Sirs, a tokenyng in this tyme I schall telle yoou vntill, But lokis by youre lewty no liffe yoe hym lenne: Qwhat man som I kys that corse schall ye kyll, And also beis ware that he will not away-I schrew you all thenne. Caiphas Why nay Judas, We purpose the page schall not passe. Sir knyghtis in hy. Miles 1 Lorde, we are here. Caiphas Calles fourth youre felaws in feere And gose justely with gentill Judas. Miles 1 Come felaws, by youre faith, come forthe all faste And carpis with sir Cayphas, he comaundis me to call. Miles 2 I schrewe hym all his liffe that loues to be last. Miles 3 Go we hens than in hy and haste vs to the halle. Miles 4 Lorde, of youre will worthely wolde I witte what was't? Caiphas To take Jesus that sawntrelle all same, that yoe schall. Miles 1 Lorde, to that purpose I wolde that we paste. Anna YOa, but loke that yoe be armed wele all, The moste gentill of the Jury schalle gyde yoou. Caiphas YOa, and euery ilke a knyght in degré Both armed and harneysed yoe be, To belde yoou, and baynely go byde yoou. Anna YOa, and therfore sir Cayphas yoe hye yoou, Youre wirschippe yoe wynne in this cas. As yoe are a lorde most lofsom of lyre Vndir sir Pilate that lyfis in this empire, YOone segger that callis hymselffe a sire With tresoure and tene sall we taste hym. Of yoone losell his bale schall he brewe, Do trottes on for that traytoure apas In hast. Caiphas Nowe sirs, sen yoe say my poure is most beste And hase all this werke thus to wirke at my will, Now certayne I thinke not to rest, But solempnely youre will to fulfille Riyot sone. Full tyte the traytoure schall be tane- Sirs, knyghtis, yoe hye yoou ilkone, For in certayne the losell schall be slane. Sir Anna, I praye yoou haue done. Anna Full redy tyte I schall be boune THis journay for to go till. Als yoe are a lorde of grete renoune YOe spare hym not to spill, THe devill hym spede. Go we with oure knyghtis in fere, Lo, thay are arrayed and armed clere. Sir knyghtis, loke yoe be of full gud chere, Where yoe hym see on hym take hede. Judeus 1 Goode tente to hym lorde schall we take, He schall banne the tyme that he was borne. All his kynne schall come to late, He schall noght skape withouten scorne Fro vs in fere. Judeus 2 We schall hym seke both even and morne, Erly and late with full gode chere Is oure entente. Judeus 3 Stye nor strete we schall spare none, Felde nor towne, thus haue we mente And boune in corde. Caiphas Malcus! Malcus A, ay, and I schulde be rewarde, And right als wele worthy were, Loo, for I bere light for my lorde. Caiphas A, sir, of youre speche lette, and late vs spede A space and of oure speche spare. And Judas, go fande thou before And wisely thou wisse tham the way, For sothely sone schall we saye To make hym to marre vs no more. Jesus Now will this oure be neghand full nere That schall certefie all the soth that I haue saide. Caiphas Go, fecche forth the freyke for his forfette. Judas All hayll maistir, in faith, and felawes all in fere, With grete gracious gretyng on grounde be yoe graied. I wolde aske you a kysse maistir, and youre willes were, For all my loue and my likyng is holy vppon yoou layde. Jesus Full hartely Judas, haue it even here, For with this kissing is mans sone betrayed. Miles 1 Whe, stande traytoure, I telle the for tane. Caiphas Whe, do knyghtis, go falle on before. Miles 2 YOis maistir, moue thou no more, But lightly late vs allone. Miles 3 Allas, we are loste for leme of this light. Jesus Saye yoe here, whome seke yoe? Do saye me, late see. Judeus 1 One Jesu of Nazareth I hope that he hight. Jesus Beholdis all hedirward, loo here, I am hee. Miles 1 Stande dastarde, so darfely thy dede schall be dight, I will no more be abasshed for blenke of thy blee. Judeus 1 We, oute, I ame mased almost in mayne and in myght. Judeus 2 And I am ferde be my feyth and fayne wolde I flee, For such a siyot haue I not sene. Judeus 3 THis leme it lemed so light, I saugh neuer such a siyot, Me meruayles what it may mene. Jesus Doo, whame seke yoe all same yoitt I saye? Judeus 1 One Jesus of Nazareth, hym wolde we neghe nowe. Jesus And I am he sothly. Malcus And that schall I asaie, For thou schalte dye, dastard, sen that it is thowe. Peter And I schall fande be my feythe the for to flaye, Here with a lusshe, lordayne, I schalle the allowe. Malcus We! Oute! All my deueres are done. Peter Nay Traytoure, but trewly I schall trappe the I trowe. Jesus Pees, Petir, I bidde the, Melle the nor move the no more. For witte thou wele, and my willis were, I myght haue poure grete plenté Of aungellis full many to mustir my myght. Forthy putte vppe thi swerde full goodely agayne, For he that takis vengeaunce all rewlid schall be right With purgens and vengeaunce that voydes in vayne. THou man that is thus derede and doulfully dyght, Come hedir to me sauely and I schalle the sayne. In the name of my fadir that in heuene is most vpon hight, Of thy hurtis be thou hole in hyde and in hane, Thurgh vertewe thi vaynes be at vayle. Malcus What, ille hayle, I hope that I be hole- Nowe I schrewe hym this tyme that gyvis tale To touche the for thi trauayle. Judeus 1 Do felaws, be youre faithe, late vs fange on in fere, For I haue on this hyne [... ...] Miles 2 And I haue a loke on hym nowe-howe felawes, drawe nere. Miles 3 YOis, by the bonys that this bare, this bourde schall he banne. Jesus Euen like a theffe heneusly hurle yoe me here; I taught you in youre tempill, why toke yoe me noyot thanne? Now haues merkenes on molde all his power. Judeus 1 Do, do, laye youre handes belyue on this lourdayne. Judeus 3 We, haue holde this hauk in thi hende. Malcus Whe, yois felawes, be my faith he is fast. Judeus Vnto sir Cayphas I wolde that he past. Farewele, for, iwisse, we will wende. Play 29Caiphas Pees bewshers, I bid no jangelyng yoe make, And sese sone of youre sawes and se what I saye, And trewe tente vnto me this tyme that yoe take, For I am a lorde lerned lelly in youre lay. By connyng of clergy and casting of witte Full wisely my wordis I welde at my will, So semely in seete me semys for to sitte And the lawe for to lerne you and lede it by skill, Right sone. What wyte so will oght with me Full frendly in feyth am I foune; Come of, do tyte late me see Howe graciously I shall graunte hym his bone. Ther is nowder lorde ne lady lerned in the lawe, Ne bisshoppe ne prelate that preued is for pris, Nor clerke in the courte that connyng will knawe, With wisdam may were hym in worlde is so wise. I haue the renke and the rewle of all the ryall, To rewle it by right als reasoune it is. All domesmen on dese awe for to dowte me That hase thaym in bandome in bale or in blis; Wherfore takes tente to my tales, and lowtis vnto me. And therfore sir knyghtis- Tunc dicunt Lorde. I charge you chalange youre rightis, To wayte both be day and by nyghtis Of the bringyng of a boy into bayle. Miles 1 Yis lorde, we schall wayte if any wonderes walke, And freyne howe youre folkis fare that are furth ronne. Miles 2 We schall be bayne at youre bidding and it not to-balke Yf thei presente you that boy in a bande boune. Anna Why syr, and is ther a boy that will noght lowte to youre biding? Caiphas Ya sir, and of the coriousenesse of that karle ther is carping, But I haue sente for that segge halfe for hethyng. Anna What wondirfull werkis workis that wighte? Caiphas Seke men and sori he sendis siker helyng- And to lame men-and blynde he sendis ther sight. Of croked crepillis that we knawe Itt is to here grete wondering, How that he helis thame all on rawe, And all thurgh his false happenyng. I am sorie of a sight THat egges me to ire, Oure lawe he brekis with all his myght, THat is moste his desire. Oure Sabott day he will not safe But is aboute to bringe it downe, And therfore sorowe muste hym haue May he be kacched in felde or towne, For his false stevyn, He defamys fowly the Godhed And callis hymselffe God sone of hevene. Anna I haue goode knowlache of that knafe: Marie me menys his modir highte, And Joseph his fadir as God me safe Was kidde and knowen wele for a wrighte. But o thyng me mervayles mekill ouere all, Of diuerse dedis that he has done- Caiphas With wicche-crafte he fares withall Sir, that schall yoe se full sone. Oure knyghtis thai are furth wente To take hym with a traye, By this I holde hym shente, He can not wende away. Anna Wolde yoe, sir, take youre reste- This day is comen on hande- And with wyne slake youre thirste? THan durste I wele warande YOe schulde haue tithandis sone Of the knyghtis that are gone, And howe that thei haue done To take hym by a trayne. And putte all thought away And late youre materes reste. Caiphas I will do as yoe saie, Do gette vs wyne of the best. Miles 1 My lorde, here is wyne that will make you to wynke, Itt is licoure full delicious my lorde, and you like. Wherfore I rede drely a draughte that yoe drynke, For in this contré, that we knawe, iwisse ther is none slyke, Wherfore we counsaile you this cuppe sauerly for to kisse. Caiphas Do on dayntely and dresse me on dees And hendely hille on me happing, And warne all wightis to be in pees For I am late layde vnto napping. Anna My lorde, with youre leue, and it like you, I passe. Caiphas Adiew be unte, as the manere is. Mulier Sir knyghtys, do kepe this boy in bande, For I will go witte what it may mene, Why that yone wighte was hym folowand Erly and late, morne and ene. He will come nere, he will not lette, He is a spie, I warand, full bolde. Miles 3 It semes by his sembland he had leuere be sette By the feruent fire to fleme hym fro colde. Mulier Ya, but and yoe wiste as wele as I What wonders that this wight has wrought, And thurgh his maistir sorssery, Full derfely schulde his deth be bought. Miles 4 Dame, we haue hym nowe at will THat we haue longe tyme soughte, Yf othir go by vs still THerfore we haue no thought. Mulier Itt were grete skorne that he schulde skape Withoute he hadde resoune and skill, He lokis lurkand like an nape, I hope I schall haste me hym tille. Thou caytiffe, what meves the stande So stabill and stille in thi thoght? THou hast wrought mekill wronge in londe And wondirfull werkis haste thou wroght. A lorell, a leder of lawe, To sette hym and suye has thou soght. Stande furth and threste in yone thrawe, Thy maistry thou bryng vnto noght. Wayte nowe, he lokis like a brokke Were he in a bande for to bayte, Or ellis like an nowele in a stok Full preualy his pray for to wayte. Peter Woman, thy wordis and thy wynde thou not waste, Of his company never are I was kende. THou haste the mismarkid, trewly be traste, Wherfore of thi misse thou the amende. Mulier THan gaynesaies thou here the sawes that thou saide, How he schulde clayme to be callid God sonne, And with the werkis that he wrought whils he walked Baynly at oure bydding alway to be bonne. Peter I will consente to youre sawes, what schulde I saye more? For women are crabbed-that comes them of kynde. But I saye as I firste saide, I sawe hym neuere are, But as a frende of youre felawschippe shall ye me aye fynde. Malchus Herke, knyghtis that are knawen in this contré as we kenne, Howe yone boy with his boste has brewed mekill bale. He has forsaken his maistir before yoone womenne, But I schall preue to yoou pertly and telle you my tale. I was presente with pepull whenne prese was full prest To mete with his maistir with mayne and with myght, And hurled hym hardely and hastely hym arreste, And in bandis full bittirly bande hym sore all that nyght. And of tokenyng of trouth schall I telle yowe Howe yone boy with a brande brayede me full nere- Do move of thez materes emelle yowe- For swiftely he swapped of my nere. His maistir with his myght helyd me all hole, That by no syne I cowthe see no man cowthe it witten, And than badde hym bere pees in euery-ilke bale, For he that strikis with a swerd with a swerde schall be smitten. Late se whedir grauntest thou gilte: Do speke oon and spare not to telle vs Or full faste I schall fonde the flitte, The soth but thou saie here emelle vs. Come of, do tyte late me see nowe, In sauyng of thyselffe fro schame [... ...] YOa, and also for beryng of blame. Peter I was neuere with hym in werke that he wroght, In worde nor in werke, in will nor in dede. I knawe no corse that yoe haue hidir brought, In no courte of this kith, yf I schulde right rede. Malchus Here sirs howe he sais, and has forsaken His maistir to this woman here twyes, And newly oure lawe has he taken- Thus hath he denyed hym thryes. Jesus Petir, Petir, thus saide I are When thou saide thou wolde abide with me In wele and woo, in sorowe and care, Whillis I schulde thries forsaken be. Peter Alas the while that I come here, That euere I denyed my lorde in quarte, The loke of his faire face so clere With full sadde sorrowe sheris my harte. Miles 3 Sir knyghtis, take kepe of this karll and be konnand Because of sir Cayphas, we knowe wele his thoght. He will rewarde vs full wele, that dare I wele warand, Whan he wete of oure werkis how wele we haue wroght. Miles 4 Sir, this is Cayphas halle here at hande, Go we boldly with this boy that we haue here broght. Miles 3 Nay sirs, vs muste stalke to that stede and full still stande, For itt is nowe of the nyght, yf thei nappe oght. Say, who is here? Miles 1 Say who is here? Miles 3 I, a frende, Well knawyn in this contré for a knyght. Miles 2 Gose furthe, on youre wayes may yee wende, For we haue herbered enowe for tonyght. Miles 1 Gose abakke bewscheres, yoe bothe are to blame To bourde whenne oure busshopp is boune to his bedde. Miles 4 Why sir, it were worthy to welcome vs home, We haue gone for this warlowe and we haue wele spedde. Miles 2 Why, who is that? Miles 3 The Jewes kyng, Jesus by name. Miles 1 A, yee be welcome, that dare I wele wedde, My lorde has sente for to seke hym. Miles 4 Loo, se here the same. Miles 2 Abidde as I bidde and be noght adreed. My lorde, my lorde, my lorde, here is layke and yoou list. Caiphas Pees, loselles. Leste yoe be nyse? Miles 1 My lorde, it is wele and ye wiste. Caiphas What, nemen vs no more, for it is twyes. THou takist non hede to the haste that we haue here on honde, Go frayne howe oure folke faris that are furth ronne. Miles 2 My lorde, youre knyghtis has kared as ye thame commaunde And thei haue fallen full faire. Caiphas Why, and is the foole fonne? Miles 1 Ya lorde, thei haue brought a boy in a bande boune. Caiphas Where nowe sir Anna, that is one and able to be nere? Anna My lorde, with youre leue me behoues to be here. Caiphas A, sir, come nere and sitte we both in fere. Anna Do sir bidde tham bring in that boy that is bune. Caiphas Pese now sir Anna, be stille and late hym stande, And late vs grope yf this gome be grathly begune. Anna Sir, this game is begune of the best, Nowe hadde he no force for to flee thame. Caiphas Nowe in faithe I am fayne he is fast, Do lede in that ladde, late me se than. Miles 2 Lo sir, we haue saide to oure souereyne, Gose nowe and suye to hymselfe for the same thyng. Miles 3 Mi lorde, to youre bidding we haue ben buxom and bayne, Lo, here is the belschere broght that ye bad bring. Miles 4 My lorde, fandis now to fere hym. Caiphas Nowe I am fayne, And felawes, faire mott ye fall for youre fynding. Anna Sir, and ye trowe thei be trewe withowten any trayne, Bidde thayme telle you the tyme of the takyng. Caiphas Say felawes, howe wente ye so nemely by nyyot? Miles 3 My lorde, was there no man to marre vs ne mende vs. Miles 4 My lorde, we had lanternes and light And some of his company kende vs. Anna But saie, howe did he, Judas? Miles 3 A, sir, full wisely and wele, He markid vs his maistir emang all his men And kyssid hym full kyndely his comforte to kele, By cause of a countenaunce that karll for to kenne. Caiphas And thus did he his deuere? Miles 4 Ya lorde, euere-ilke a dele, He taughte vs to take hym the tyme aftir tenne. Anna Nowe be my feith a faynte frende myght he ther fele. Miles 3 Sire, ye myght so haue saide hadde ye hym sene thenne. Miles 4 He sette vs to the same that he solde vs And feyned to be his frende as a faytour, This was the tokenyng before that he tolde vs. Caiphas Nowe trewly, this was a trante of a traytour. Anna YOa, be he traytour or trewe geue we neuer tale, But takes tente at this tyme and here what he telles. Caiphas Now sees that oure howsolde be holden here hole, So that none carpe in case but that in court dwellis. Miles 3 A, lorde, this brethell hath brewed moche bale. Caiphas Therfore schall we spede vs to spere of his spellis. Sir Anna, takis hede nowe and here hym. Anna Say ladde, liste the noght lowte to a lorde? Miles 4 No sir, with youre leue we schall lere hym. Caiphas Nay sir, noght so, no haste, Itt is no burde to bete bestis that are bune. And therfore with fayrenes firste we vill hym fraste And sithen forther hym furth as we haue fune. And telle vs som tales truly to traste. Anna Sir, we myght als wele talke tille a tome tonne. I warande hym witteles, or ellis he is wrang wrayste, Or ellis he waitis to wirke als he was are wonne. Miles 3 His wonne was to wirke mekill woo And make many maystries emelle vs. Caiphas And some schall he graunte or he goo, Or muste yowe tente hym and telle vs. Miles 4 Mi lorde, to witte the wonderes that he has wroght, For to telle you the tente it wolde oure tonges tere. Caiphas Sen the boy for his boste is into bale broght We will witte or he wende how his werkis were. Miles 3 Oure Sabott day we saye saves he right noght, That he schulde halowe and holde full dingne and full dere. Miles 4 No sir, in the same feste als we the sotte soughte He salued thame of sikenesse on many sidis seere. Caiphas What than, makes he thame grathely to gange? Miles 3 YOa lorde, even forthe in euery-ilke a toune He thame lechis to liffe aftir lange. Caiphas A, this makes he by the myghtis of Mahounde. Miles 4 Sir, oure stiffe tempill that made is of stone, That passes any paleys of price for to preyse, And it were doune to the erth and to the gronde gone This rebalde he rowses hym it rathely to rayse. Miles 3 YOa lorde, and othir wonderis he workis grete wone, And with his lowde lesyngis he losis oure layes. Caiphas Go lowse hym, and levis than and late me allone, For myselfe schall serche hym and here what he saies. Anna Herke, Jesus of Jewes, we will haue joie To spille all thy sporte for thy spellis. Caiphas Do meve, felawe, of thy frendis that fedde the beforne, And sithen, felowe, of thi fare forther will I freyne; Do neven vs lightly. His langage is lorne! Miles 3 My lorde, with youre leve, hym likis for to layne, But and he schulde scape skatheles it wer a full skorne, For he has mustered emonge vs full mekil of his mayne. Miles 4 Malkus youre man, lord, that had his ere schorne, This harlotte full hastely helid it agayne. Caiphas What, and liste hym be nyse for the nonys, And heres howe we haste to rehete hym. Anna Nowe by Beliall bloode and his bonys, I holde it beste to go bete hym. Caiphas Nay sir, none haste, we schall haue game or we goo. Boy, be not agaste if we seme gaye. I coniure the kyndely and comaunde the also, By grete God that is liffand and laste schall ay, Yf thou be Criste, Goddis sonne, telle till vs two. Jesus Sir, thou says it thiselffe, and sothly I saye THat I schall go to my fadir that I come froo And dwelle with hym wynly in welthe allway. Caiphas Why, fie on the faitoure vntrewe, Thy fadir haste thou fowly defamed. Now nedis vs no notes of newe, Hymselfe with his sawes has he schamed. Anna Nowe nedis nowdir wittenesse ne counsaille to call, But take his sawes as he saieth in the same stede. He sclaunderes the Godhed and greues vs all, Wherfore he is wele worthy to be dede- And therfore sir, saies hym the sothe. Caiphas Sertis so I schall. Heres thou not, harlott? Ille happe on thy hede! Aunswere here grathely to grete and to small And reche vs oute rathely som resoune, I rede. Jesus My reasouns are not to reherse, Nor they that myght helpe me are noyot here nowe. Anna Say ladde, liste the make verse? Do telle on belyffe, late vs here nowe. Jesus Sir, if I saie the sothe thou schall not assente, But hyndir, or haste me to hynge. I prechid wher pepull was moste in present, And no poynte in priuité to olde ne yoonge. And also in youre tempill I tolde myne entente; Ye myght haue tane me that tyme for my tellyng Wele bettir than bringe me with brondis vnbrente, And thus to noye me be nyght, and also for nothyng. Caiphas For nothyng, losell? THou lies! Thy wordis and werkis will haue a wrekyng. Jesus Sire, sen thou with wrong so me wreyes, Go spere thame that herde of my spekyng. Caiphas A, this traitoure has tened me with tales that he has tolde, YOitt hadde I neuere such hething of a harlott as hee. Miles 1 What, fye on the, beggar, who made the so bolde To bourde with oure busshoppe? Thy bane schalle I bee. Jesus Sir, if my wordis be wrange or werse than thou wolde, A wronge wittenesse I wotte nowe ar yoe; And if my sawes be soth thei mon be sore solde, Wherfore thou bourdes to brode for to bete me. Miles 2 My lorde, will yoe here? For Mahounde, No more now for to neven that it nedis. Caiphas Gose dresse you and dyng yoe hym doune, And deffe vs no more with his dedis. Anna Nay sir, than blemysshe yee prelatis estate, YOe awe to deme no man to dede for to dynge. Caiphas Why sir? So were bettir than be in debate, Ye see the boy will noyot bowe for oure bidding. Anna Nowe sir, ye muste presente this boy vnto sir Pilate For he is domysman nere and nexte to the king, And late hym here alle the hole, how ye hym hate, And whedir he will helpe hym or haste hym to hyng. Miles 1 My lorde, late men lede hym by nyght, So schall ye beste skape oute o skornyng. Miles 2 My lorde, it is nowe in the nyght, I rede yoe abide tille the mornyng. Caiphas Bewschere, thou sais the beste and so schall it be- But lerne yone boy bettir to bende and bowe. Miles 1 We schall lerne yone ladde, be my lewté, For to loute vnto ilke lorde like vnto yowe. Caiphas YOa, and felawes, wayte that he be ay wakand. Miles 2 YOis lorde, that warant will wee, Itt were a full nedles note to bidde vs nappe nowe. Miles 3 Sertis, will ye sitte and sone schall ye see Howe we schall play popse for the pages prowe. Miles 4 Late see, who stertis for a stole? For I haue here a hatir to hyde hym. Miles 1 Lo, here is one full fitte for a foole, Go gete it and sette the beside hym. Miles 2 Nay, I schall sette it myselffe and frusshe hym also. Lo here a shrowde for a shrewe, and of shene shappe. Miles 3 Playes faire in feere, and ther is one and ther is-ij; I schall fande to feste it with a faire flappe- And ther is-iij; and there is-iiij. Say nowe with an nevill happe, Who negheth the nowe? Not o worde, no! Miles 4 Dose noddill on hym with neffes that he noght nappe. Miles 1 Nay, nowe to nappe is no nede, Wassaille! Wassaylle! I warande hym wakande. Miles 2 YOa, and bot he bettir bourdis can byde Such buffettis schall he be takande. Miles 3 Prophete, Y saie, to be oute of debate, Quis te percussit, man? Rede, giffe thou may. Miles 4 Those wordes are in waste, what wenes thou he wate? It semys be his wirkyng his wittes were awaye. Miles 1 Now late hym stande as he stode in a foles state, For he likis noyot this layke my liffe dare I laye. Miles 2 Sirs, vs muste presente this page to ser Pilate, But go we firste to oure souerayne and see what he saie. Miles 3 My lorde, we haue bourded with this boy And holden hym full hote emelle vs. Caiphas Thanne herde ye some japes of joye? Miles 4 The devell haue the worde, lorde, he wolde telle vs. Anna Sir, bidde belyue thei goo and bynde hym agayne, So that he skape noght, for that were a skorne. Caiphas Do telle to sir Pilate oure pleyntes all pleyne, And saie this ladde with his lesyngis has oure lawes lorne. And saie this same day muste he be slayne Because of Sabott day that schal be tomorne, And saie that we come ourselffe for certayne, And for to fortheren this fare, fare yee beforne. Miles 1 Mi lorde, with youre leve, vs muste wende, Oure message to make as we maye. Caiphas Sir, youre faire felawschippe we betake to the fende, Goose onne nowe, and daunce forth in the deuyll way. Play 30Pilate Yhe cursed creatures that cruelly are cryand, Restreyne you for stryuyng for strengh of my strakis; Youre pleyntes in my presence vse plately applyand, Or ellis this brande in youre braynes sone brestis and brekis. THis brande in his bones brekis, What brawle that with brawlyng me brewis, That wrecche may not wrye fro my wrekis, Nor his sleyghtis noyot slely hym slakis; Latte that traytour noyot triste in my trewys. For sir Sesar was my sier and I sothely his sonne, That exelent emperoure exaltid in hight Whylk all this wilde worlde with wytes had wone, And my modir hight Pila that proude was o plight; O Pila that prowde, Atus hir fadir he hight. This `Pila' was hadde into `Atus'- Nowe renkis, rede yhe it right? For thus schortely I haue schewid you in sight Howe I am prowdely preued `Pilatus'. Loo, Pilate I am, proued a prince of grete pride. I was putte into Pounce the pepill to presse, And sithen Sesar hymselffe with exynatores be his side Remytte me to ther remys the renkes to redresse. And yitte am Y graunted on grounde as I gesse To justifie and juge all the Jewes. A, luffe, here lady? No lesse? Lo sirs, my worthely wiffe, that sche is, So semely, loo, certayne scho schewys. Uxor Was nevir juge in this Jurie of so jocounde generacion, Nor of so joifull genologie to gentrys enioyned As yhe, my duke doughty, demar of dampnacion To princes and prelatis that youre preceptis perloyned. Who that youre preceptis pertely perloyned, With drede into dede schall ye dryffe hym; By my trouthe, he vntrewly is troned THat agaynste youre behestis hase honed; All to ragges schall ye rente hym and ryue hym. I am dame precious Percula, of prynces the prise, Wiffe to ser Pilate here, prince withouten pere. All welle of all womanhede I am, wittie and wise, Consayue nowe my countenaunce so comly and clere. The coloure of my corse is full clere And in richesse of robis I am rayed, Ther is no lorde in this londe as I lere, In faith, that hath a frendlyar feere Than yhe my lorde, myselffe thof I saye itt. Pilate Nowe saye itt may ye saffely, for I will certefie the same. Uxor Gracious lorde, gramercye, youre gode worde is gayne. Pilate Yhitt for to comforte my corse me muste kisse you madame. Uxor To fulfille youre forward my fayre lorde I am fayne. Pilate Howe, howe, felawys! Nowe in faith I am fayne Of theis lippis so loffely are lappid In bedde is full buxhome and bayne. Domina Yha sir, it nedith not to layne, All ladise we coveyte than bothe to be kyssid and clappid. Bedellus My liberall lorde, o leder of lawis, O schynyng schawe that all schames escheues, I beseke you my souerayne, assente to my sawes, As ye are gentill juger and justice of Jewes. Domina Do herke howe yon, javell, jangill of Jewes. Why, go bette horosonne boy, when I bidde the. Bedellus Madame, I do but that diewe is. Domina But yf thou reste of thy resoune thou rewis, For all is acursed, carle-hase in, kydde the! Pilate Do mende you madame, and youre mode be amendand, For me semys it wer sittand to se what he sais. Domina Mi lorde, he tolde nevir tale that to me was tendand, But with wrynkis and with wiles to wend me my weys. Bedellus Gwisse, of youre wayes to be wendand itt langis to oure lawes. Domina Loo lorde, this ladde with his lawes! Howe, thynke ye it prophitis wele his prechyng to prayse? Pilate Yha luffe, he knawis all oure custome, I knawe wele... Bedellus My seniour, will ye see nowe the sonne in youre sight, For his stately strengh he stemmys in his stremys? Behalde ovir youre hede how he heldis fro hight And glydis to the grounde with his glitterand glemys. To the grounde he gois with his bemys And the nyght is neghand anone. Yhe may deme aftir no dremys, But late my lady here with all hir light lemys Wightely go wende till hir wone; For ye muste sitte sir this same nyght, of lyfe and of lyme. Itt is noyot leeffull for my lady by the lawe of this lande In dome for to dwelle for the day waxe ought dymme, For scho may stakir in the strete but scho stalworthely stande. [.... ...] Late hir take hir leve whill that light is. Pilate Nowe wiffe, than ye blythely be buskand. Domina I am here sir, hendely att hande. Pilate Loo, this renke has vs redde als right is. Domina Youre comaundement to kepe to kare forthe Y caste me. My lorde, with youre leue, no lenger Y lette yowe. Pilate Itt were a repreue to my persone that preuely yoe paste me, Or ye wente fro this wones or with wynne yoe had wette yowe. Ye schall wende forthe with wynne whenne that yoe haue wette yowe. Gete drinke! What dose thou? Haue done! Come semely, beside me, and sette yowe. Loke, nowe it is even here that I are behete you, Ya, saie it nowe sadly and sone. Domina Itt wolde glad me my lorde if yoe gudly begynne. Pilate Nowe I assente to youre counsaille so comely and clere. Nowe drynke madame-to deth all this dynne. Domina Iff it like yowe, myne awne lorde, I am not to lere- This lare I am not to lere. Pilate Yitt efte to youre damysell madame. Domina In thy hande, holde nowe and haue here. Ancilla Gramarcy, my lady so dere. Pilate Nowe fares-wele, and walke on youre way. [... ...] Domina Now farewele the frendlyest, youre fomen to fende. Pilate Nowe farewele the fayrest figure that euere did fode fede, And farewele ye damysell, indede. Ancilla My lorde, I comande me to youre ryalté. Pilate Fayre lady, here is schall you lede. Sir, go with this worthy in wede, And what scho biddis you doo loke that buxsome you be. Filius I am prowde and preste to passe on apasse, To go with this gracious hir gudly to gyde. Pilate Take tente to my tale thou turne on no trayse, Come tyte and telle me yf any tythyngis betyde. Filius Yf any tythyngis my lady betyde, I schall full sone sir witte you to say. This semely schall I schewe by hir side Belyffe sir, no lenger we byde. Pilate Nowe fares-wele, and walkes on youre way. Nowe wente is my wiffe, yf it wer not hir will, And scho rakis tille hir reste as of nothyng scho rought. Tyme is, I telle the, thou tente me vntill; And buske the belyue, belamy, to bedde that Y wer broght [... ...] And loke I be rychely arrayed. Bedellus Als youre seruaunte I haue sadly it sought, And this nyght, sir, newe schall ye noght, I dare laye, fro ye luffely be layde. Pilate I comaunde the to come nere, for I will kare to my couche. Haue in thy handes hendely and heue me fro hyne, But loke that thou tene me not with thi tastyng, but tendirly me touche. Bedellus A, sir, yhe whe wele. Pilate Yha, I haue wette me with wyne [... ...] Yhit helde doune and lappe me even here, For I will slelye slepe vnto synne. Loke that no man nor no myron of myne With no noyse be neghand me nere. Bedellus Sir, what warlowe yow wakens with wordis full wilde, THat boy for his brawlyng were bettir be vnborne. Pilate Yha, who chatteres, hym chastise, be he churle or childe, For and he skape skatheles itt were to vs a grete skorne- Yf skatheles he skape it wer a skorne. What rebalde that redely will rore, I schall mete with that myron tomorne And for his ledir lewdenes hym lerne to be lorne. Bedellus Whe! So sir, slepe ye, and saies no more. Domina Nowe are we at home. Do helpe yf ye may, For I will make me redye and rayke to my reste. Ancilla Yhe are werie madame, for-wente of youre way, Do boune you to bedde, for that holde I beste. Filius Here is a bedde arayed of the beste. Domina Do happe me, and faste hense ye hye. Ancilla Madame, anone all dewly is dressid. Filius With no stalkyng nor no striffe be ye stressed. Domina Nowe be yhe in pese, both youre carpyng and crye. Diabolus Owte! Owte! Harrowe! Into bale am I brought, this bargayne may I banne, But yf Y wirke some wile in wo mon I wonne. This gentilman, Jesu, of cursednesse he can, Be any syngne that I see this same is Goddis sonne. And he be slone oure solace will sese, He will saue man saule fro oure sonde And refe vs the remys that are rounde. I will on stiffely in this stounde Vnto ser Pilate wiffe pertely and putte me in prese. O woman, be wise and ware, and wonne in thi witte Ther schall a gentilman, Jesu, vnjustely be juged Byfore thy husband in haste, and with harlottis be hytte. And that doughty today to deth thus be dyghted, Sir Pilate, for his prechyng, and thou, With nede schalle ye namely be noyed. Youre striffe and youre strenghe schal be stroyed, Youre richesse schal be refte you that is rude, With vengeaunce, and that dare I auowe. Domina A, I am drecchid with a dreme full dredfully to dowte. Say childe, rise vppe radly and reste for no roo, Thow muste launce to my lorde and lowly hym lowte, Comaunde me to his reuerence, as right weill Y doo. Filius O, what, schall I trauayle thus tymely this tyde? Madame, for the drecchyng of heuen, Slyke note is newsome to neven And it neghes vnto mydnyght full even. Domina Go bette boy, I bidde no lenger thou byde, And saie to my souereyne this same is soth that I send hym: All naked this nyght as I napped With tene and with trayne was I trapped, With a sweuene that swiftely me swapped Of one Jesu, the juste man the Jewes will vndoo. She prayes tente to that trewe man, with tyne be noyot trapped, But als a domesman dewly to be dressand, And lelye delyuere that lede. Filius Madame, I am dressid to that dede- But firste will I nappe in this nede, For he hase mystir of a morne-slepe that mydnyght is myssand. Anna Sir Cayphas, ye kenne wele this caytiffe we haue cached That ofte-tymes in oure tempill hase teched vntrewly. Oure meyné with myght at mydnyght hym mached And hase drevyn hym till his demyng for his dedis vndewly; Wherfore I counsaile that kyndely we care Vnto ser Pilate oure prince, and pray hym That he for oure right will arraye hym- This faitour-for his falsed to flay hym; For fro we saie hym the soth he schall sitte hym full sore. Caiphas Sir Anna, this sporte haue ye spedely aspied, As I am pontificall prince of all prestis. We will prese to ser Pilate, and presente hym with pride With this harlott that has hewed oure hartis fro oure brestis Thurgh talkyng of tales vntrewe. And therfor ser knyghtis- Milites Lorde. Caiphas Sir knyghtis that are curtayse and kynde, We charge you that chorle be wele chyned. Do buske you and grathely hym bynde And rugge hym in ropes his rase till he rewe. Miles 1 Sir, youre sawes schall be serued schortely and sone. Yha, do felawe, be thy feith; late vs feste this faitour full fast. Miles 2 I am douty to this dede, delyuer, haue done; Latte vs pulle on with pride till his poure be paste. Miles 1 Do haue faste and halde at his handes. Miles 2 For this same is he that lightly avaunted, And God sone he grathely hym graunted. Miles 1 He bese hurled for the highnes he haunted- Loo, he stonyes for vs, he stares where he standis. Miles 2 Nowe is the brothell boune for all the boste that he blawe, And the laste day he lete no lordynges myyot lawe hym. Anna Ya, he wende this worlde had bene haly his awne. Als ye are dowtiest today tille his demyng ye drawe hym, And than schall we kenne how that he canne excuse hym. Miles 1 Here, ye gomes, gose a-rome, giffe vs gate, We muste steppe to yone sterne of astate. Miles 2 We muste yappely wende in at this yate, For he that comes to courte, to curtesye muste vse hym. Miles 1 Do rappe on the renkis that we may rayse with oure rolyng. Come forthe sir coward, why cowre ye behynde? Bedellus O, what javellis are ye that jappis with gollyng? Miles 1 A, goode sir, be noyot wroth, for wordis are as the wynde. Bedellus I saye, gedlynges, gose bakke with youre gawdes. Miles 2 Be sufferand I beseke you, And more of this matere yhe meke yowe. Bedellus Why, vnconand knaves, an I cleke yowe, I schall felle yowe, be my faith, for all youre false frawdes. Pilate Say childe, ill cheffe you! What churlles are so claterand? Bedellus My lorde, vnconand knaves thei crye and thei call. Pilate Gose baldely beliffe and thos brethellis be batterand, And putte tham in prisoune vppon peyne that may fall. Yha, spedely spir tham yf any sporte can thei spell- Yha, and loke what lordingis thei be. Bedellus My lorde that luffull in lee, I am boxsom and blithe to your blee. Pilate And if they talke any tythyngis come tyte and me tell. Bedellus Can ye talke any tythandis, by youre faith, my felawes? Miles 1 Yha sir, sir Cayphas and Anna ar come both togedir To sir Pilate o Pounce and prince of oure lawes; And thei haue laughte a lorell that is lawles and liddir. Bedellus My lorde, my lorde! Pilate Howe? Bedellus My lorde, vnlappe yow belyve where ye lye. Sir Cayphas to youre courte is caried, And sir Anna, but a traytour hem taried. Many wight of that warlowe has waried, They haue brought hym in a bande his balis to bye. Pilate But are thes sawes certayne in soth that thou saies? Bedellus Yha lorde, the states yondir standis, for striffe are they stonde. stond. Pilate Now than am I light as a roo, and ethe for to rayse. Go bidde tham come in both, and the boye they haue ne. Bedellus Siris, my lorde geues leue inne for to come. Caiphas Hayle prince that is pereles in price, Ye are leder of lawes in this lande, Youre helpe is full hendely at hande. Anna Hayle, stronge in youre state for to stande, Alle this dome muste be dressed at youre dulye deuyse. Pilate Who is there, my prelates? Caiphas Yha lorde. Pilate Nowe be yoe welcome iwisse. Caiphas Gramercy my souerayne. But we beseke you all same Bycause of wakand you vnwarly be noght wroth with this, For we haue brought here a lorell-he lokis like a lambe. Pilate Come byn, you bothe, and to the benke brayde yowe. Caiphas Nay gud sir, laugher is leffull for vs. Pilate A, sir Cayphas, be curtayse yhe bus. Anna Nay goode lorde, it may not be thus. Pilate Sais no more, but come sitte you beside me in sorowe as I saide youe. Filius Hayle, the semelieste seeg vndir sonne sought, Hayle, the derrest duke and doughtiest in dede. Pilate Now bene-veneuew beuscher, what boodworde haste thou brought? Hase any langour my lady newe laught in this leede? Filius Sir, that comely comaundes hir youe too, And sais, al nakid this nyght as sche napped With tene and with traye was sche trapped, With a sweuene that swiftely hir swapped Of one Jesu, the juste man the Jewes will vndo. She beseches you as hir souerayne that symple to saue, Deme hym noght to deth for drede of vengeaunce. Pilate What, I hope this be he that hyder harlid yoe haue. Caiphas Ya sir, the same and the selffe-but this is but a skaunce, He with wicchecrafte this wile has he wrought. Some feende of his sand has he sente And warned youre wiffe or he wente. Pilate Yowe! THat schalke shuld not shamely be shente, THis is sikir in certayne, and soth schulde be sought. Anna Yha, thurgh his fantome and falshed and fendes-craft He has wroght many wondir where he walked full wyde, Wherfore, my lorde, it wer leeffull his liffe were hym rafte. Pilate Be ye neuere so bryme ye bothe bus abide But if the traytoure be taught for vntrewthe, And therfore sermones you no more. I will sekirly sende hymselffe fore, And se what he sais to the sore. Bedell, go brynge hyme, for of that renke haue I rewthe. Bedellus This forward to fulfille am I fayne moued in myn herte. Say, Jesu, the juges and the Jewes hase me enioyned To bringe the before tham even bounden as thou arte. Yone lordyngis to lose the full longe haue thei heyned, But firste schall I wirschippe the with witte and with will. This reuerence I do the forthy, For wytes that wer wiser than I, They worshipped the full holy on hy And with solempnité sang Osanna till. Miles 1 My lorde that is leder of lawes in this lande, All bedilis to your biding schulde be boxsome and bayne, And yoitt this boy here before yowe full boldely was bowand To worschippe this warlowe-methynke we wirke all in vayne. Miles 2 Yha, and in youre presence he prayed hym of pees, In knelyng on knes to this knave He besoughte hym his seruaunte to saue. Caiphas Loo lord, such arrore amange them thei haue It is grete sorowe to see, no seeg may it sese. It is no menske to youre manhed that mekill is of myght To forbere such forfettis that falsely are feyned, Such spites in especiall wolde be eschewed in your sight. Pilate Sirs, moves you noyot in this matere but bese myldely demeaned, For yone curtasie I kenne had som cause. Anna In youre sight sir the soth schall I saye, As ye are prince take hede I you praye, Such a lourdayne vnlele, dare I laye, Many lordis of oure landis might lede fro oure lawes. Pilate Saye losell, who gaue the leve so for to lowte to yone ladde And solace hym in my sight so semely that I sawe? Bedellus A, gracious lorde, greue you noght for gude case I hadde. Yhe comaunded me to care, als ye kenne wele and knawe, To Jerusalem on a journay, with seele; And than this semely on an asse was sette And many men myldely hym mette, Als a God in that grounde thai hym grette, Wele semand hym in waye with worschippe lele. `Osanna' thei sange, `the sone of Dauid', Riche men with thare robes thei ranne to his fete, And poure folke fecched floures of the frith And made myrthe and melody this man for to mete. Pilate Nowe gode sir, be thi feith, what is `Osanna' to saie? Bedellus Sir, constrew it we may be langage of this lande as I leue, It is als moche to me for to meue- Youre prelatis in this place can it preue- Als, `oure sauiour and souerayne thou saue vs we prayé. Pilate Loo senioures, how semes yow? THe sothe I you saide. Caiphas Yha lorde, this ladde is full liddir, be this light. Yf his sawes wer serchid and sadly assaied, Saue youre reuerence, his resoune thei rekenne noyot with right. This caytiffe thus cursedly can construe vs. Bedellus Sirs, trulye the trouthe I haue tolde Of this wighte yoe haue wrapped in wolde. Anna I saie, harlott, thy tonge schulde thou holde, And noght agaynste thi maistirs to meve thus. Pilate Do sese of youre seggyng, and I schall examyne full sore. Anna Sir, demes hym to deth or dose hym away. Pilate Sir, haue ye saide? Anna Yha lorde. Pilate Nowe go sette you with sorowe and care, For I will lose no lede that is lele to oure lay. But steppe furth and stonde vppe on hight And buske to my bidding, thou boy, And for the nones that thou neven vs a noy. Bedellus I am here at youre hande to halow a hoy, Do move of youre maistir for I shall melle it with myyot. Pilate Cry `Oyas'. Bedellus Oyas. Pilate Yit efte, be thi feithe. Bedellus Oyas! Pilate Yit lowdar, that ilke lede may lithe- Crye pece in this prese, vppon payne thervppon, Bidde them swage of ther sweying bothe swiftely and swithe And stynte of ther stryuyng and stande still as a stone. Calle Jesu the gentill of Jacob, the Jewe. Come preste and appere, To the barre drawe the nere, To thi jugement here, To be demed for his dedis vndewe. Miles 1 Whe, harke how this harlott he heldis oute of harre, This lotterelle liste noght my lorde to lowte. Miles 2 Say beggar, why brawlest thou? Go boune the to the barre. Miles 1 Steppe on thy standyng so sterne and so stoute. Miles 2 Steppe on thys standyng so still. Miles 1 Sir cowarde, to courte muste yhe care- Miles 2 A lessoune to lerne of oure lare. Miles 1 Flitte fourthe, foule myght thou fare. Miles 2 Say warlowe, thou wantist of thi will. Filius O Jesu vngentill, thi joie is in japes, THou can not be curtayse, thou caytiffe I calle the, No ruthe were it to rug the and ryue the in ropes. Why falles thou noyot flatte here, foule falle the, For ferde of my fadir so free? THou wotte noght his wisdome iwys, All thyne helpe in his hande that it is, Howe sone he myght saue the fro this. Obeye hym, brothell, I bidde the. Pilate Now Jesu, thou art welcome ewys, as I wene, Be noyot abasshed but boldely boune the to the barre; What seyniour will sewe for the sore I haue sene. To wirke on this warlowe, his witte is in warre. Come preste, of a payne, and appere, And sir prelatis, youre pontes bes prevyng. What cause can ye caste of accusyng? THis mater ye marke to be meving, And hendly in haste late vs here. Caiphas Sir Pilate o Pounce and prince of grete price, We triste ye will trowe oure tales thei be trewe, To deth for to deme hym with dewly device. For cursidnesse yone knave hase in case, if ye knew, In harte wolde ye hate hym in hye. For if it wer so We mente not to misdo; Triste, ser, schall ye therto, We hadde not hym taken to the. Pilate Sir, youre tales wolde I trowe but thei touche none entente. What cause can ye fynde now this freke for to felle? Anna Our Sabbotte he saues not, but sadly assente To wirke full vnwisely, this wote I riyot wele, [... ...] He werkis whane he will, wele I wote, And therfore in herte we hym hate. Itt sittis you to strenghe youre estate Yone losell to louse for his lay. Pilate Ilke a lede for to louse for his lay is not lele. Youre lawes is leffull, but to youre lawis longis it THis faitoure to feese wele with flappes full fele, And woo may ye wirke hym be lawe, for he wranges it. Therfore takes vnto you full tyte, And like as youre lawes will you lede Ye deme hym to deth for his dede. Caiphas Nay, nay sir, that dome muste vs drede, [... ...] It longes noyot till vs no lede for to lose. Pilate What wolde ye I did thanne? THe deuyll motte you drawe! Full fewe are his frendis but fele are his fooes. His liff for to lose thare longes no lawe, Nor no cause can I kyndely contryue THat why he schulde lose thus his liffe. Anna A, gude sir, it raykes full ryffe In steedis wher he has stirrid mekill striffe Of ledis that is lele to youre liffe. Caiphas Sir, hatle men and hurte he helid in haste, The deffe and the dome he delyuered fro doole By wicchecrafte, I warande-his wittis schall waste- For the farles that he farith with loo how thei folowe yone fole, Oure folke so thus he frayes in fere. Anna The dede he rayses anone- THis Lazare that lowe lay allone He graunte hym his gates for to gone, And pertely thus proued he his poure. Pilate Now goode siris, I saie, what wolde yhe seme? Caiphas Sir, to dede for to do hym or dose hym adawe. Pilate Yha, for he dose wele his deth for to deme? Go layke you sir, lightly; wher lerned ye such lawe? This touches no tresoune I telle you. Yhe prelatis that proued are for price, Yhe schulde be bothe witty and wise And legge oure lawe wher it lyse, Oure materes ye meve thus emel you. Anna Misplese noyot youre persone, yhe prince withouten pere, It touches to tresoune this tale I schall tell: Yone briboure, full baynly he bed to forbere The tribute to the emperoure, thus wolde he compell Oure pepill thus is poyntis to applye. Caiphas The pepull he saies he schall saue, And Criste garres he calle hym, yone knave, And sais he will the high kyngdome haue- Loke whethir he deserue to dye. Pilate To dye he deserues yf he do thus indede, But Y will se myselffe what he sais. Speke Jesu, and spende nowe thi space for to spede. THez lordyngis thei legge the thou liste noyot leve on oure lays, They accuse the cruelly and kene; And therfore as a chiftene Y charge the, Iff thou be Criste that thou telle me, And God sone thou grughe not to graunte the, For this is the matere that Y mene. Jesus THou saiste so thiselue. I am sothly the same Here wonnyng in worlde to wirke al thi will. My fadir is faithfull to felle all thi fame; Withouten trespas or tene am I taken the till. Pilate Loo busshoppis, why blame ye this boye? Me semys that it is soth that he saies. Ye meve all the malice ye may With youre wrenchis and wiles to wrythe hym away, Vnjustely to juge hym fro joie. Caiphas Noght so sir, his seggyng is full sothly soth, It bryngis oure bernes in bale for to bynde. Anna Sir, douteles we deme als dewe of the deth THis foole that ye fauour-grete fautes can we fynde This daye for to deme hym to dye. Pilate Saie losell, thou lies be this light! Naie, thou rebalde, thou rekens vnright. Caiphas Avise you sir, with mayne and with myght, And wreke not youre wrethe nowe forthy. Pilate Me likes noyot his langage so largely for to lythe. Caiphas A, mercy lorde, mekely, no malice we mente. Pilate Noo done is it douteles, balde be and blithe, Talke on that traytoure and telle youre entente. Yone segge is sotell ye saie; Gud sirs, wer lerned he such lare? Caiphas In faith, we can not fynde whare. Pilate Yhis, his fadir with som farlis gan fare And has lered this ladde of his laie. Anna Nay, nay sir, we wiste that he was but a write, No sotelté he schewed that any segge saw. Pilate Thanne mene yhe of malice to marre hym of myght, Of cursidnesse convik no cause can yhe knawe. Me meruellis ye malyngne o mys. Caiphas Sir, for Galely hidir and hoo The gretteste agayne hym ganne goo, Yone warlowe to waken of woo, And of this werke beres witnesse ywis. Pilate Why, and has he gone in Galely, yone gedlyng ongayne? Anna Yha lorde, ther was he borne, yone brethelle, and bredde. Pilate Nowe withouten fagyng, my frendis, in faith I am fayne, For now schall oure striffe full sternely be stede. Sir Herowde is kyng ther ye kenne, His poure is preued full preste To ridde hym or reue hym of rest. And therfore, to go with yone gest Yhe marke vs oute of the manliest men. Caiphas Als witte and wisdome youre will schal be wroght, Here is kempis full kene to the kyng for to care. Pilate Nowe seniours, I saie yow sen soth schall be soght, But if he schortely be sente it may sitte vs full sore. And therfore sir knyghtis- Milites Lorde. Pilate Sir knyghtis that are cruell and kene, That warlowe ye warrok and wraste, And loke that he brymly be braste [... ...] Do take on that traytoure you betwene. Tille Herowde in haste with that harlott ye hye, Comaunde me full mekely vnto his moste myght. Saie the dome of this boy, to deme hym to dye, Is done vpponne hym dewly, to dresse or to dight Or liffe for to leue at his liste. Say ought I may do hym indede, His awne am I worthely in wede. Miles 1 My lorde, we schall springe on a-spede. Come thens! To me this traitoure full tryste. Pilate Bewe sirs, I bidde you ye be not to bolde, But takes tente for oure tribute full trulye to trete. Miles 2 Mi lorde, we schall hye this beheste for to halde And wirke it full wisely in wille and in witte. Pilate So sirs me semys itt is sittand. Miles 1 Mahounde, sirs, he menske you with myght- Miles 2 And saue you sir, semely in sight. Pilate Now in the wilde vengeaunce ye walke with that wight, And fresshely ye founde to be flittand. Play 31Rex Pes, ye brothellis and browlys in this broydenesse inbrased, And freykis that are frendely your freykenesse to frayne, Youre tounges fro tretyng of triffillis be trased, Or this brande that is bright schall breste in youre brayne. Plextis for no plasis but platte you to this playne, And drawe to no drofyng but dresse you to drede, With dasshis. Traueylis noyot as traytours that tristis in trayne, Or by the bloode that Mahounde bledde with this blad schal ye blede. THus schall I brittyn all youre bones on brede, YOae, and lusshe all youre lymmys with lasschis. Dragons that are dredfull schall derke in ther dennes In wrathe when we writhe, or in wrathenesse ar wapped. Agaynste jeauntis ongentill haue we joined with ingendis, And swannys that are swymmyng to oure swetnes schall be suapped, And joged doune ther jolynes oure gentries engenderand. Whoso repreue oure estate we schall choppe tham in cheynes, All renkkis that are renand to vs schall be reuerande. Therfore I bidde you sese or any bale be, THat no brothell be so bolde boste for to blowes. And yoe that luffis youre liffis, listen to me As a lorde that is lerned to lede you be lawes. And ye that are of my men and of my menyoe, Sen we are comen fro oure kyth as yoe wele knawes, And semlys all here same in this cyté, It sittis vs in sadnesse to sette all oure sawes. Dux 1 My lorde, we schall take kepe to youre call And stirre to no stede but yoe steuen vs, No greuaunce to grete ne to small. Rex Ya, but loke that no fawtes befall. Dux 2 Lely my lord so we shall, Ye nede not no more for to nevyn vs. Dux 1 Mounseniour, demene you to menske in mynde what I mene And boune to youre bedward, for so holde I best, For all the comons of this courte bene avoyde clene, And ilke a renke, as resoune as, are gone to ther reste- Wherfore I counsaile, my lorde, yoe comaunde you a drynke. Rex Nowe certis, I assente as thou sais. Se ych a qwy is wente on his ways Lightly withouten any delayes. Giffe vs wyne wynly and late vs go wynke, And se that no durdan be done. Dux 1 My lorde, vnlase you to lye, Here schall none come for to crye. Rex Nowe spedely loke that thou spie THat no noyse be neghand this none. Dux 1 My lorde, youre bedde is new made, you nedis noyot for to bide it. Rex Ya, but as thou luffes me hartely, laye me doune softely, For thou wotte full wele that I am full tendirly hydid. Dux 1 Howe lye yoe my goode lorde? Rex Right wele, be this light, All hole at my desire. Wherfore I praye ser Satan oure sire, And Lucifer moste luffely of lyre, He sauffe you all sirs, and giffe you goode nyght. Miles 1 Sir knyght, ye wote we ar warned to wende To witte of this warlowe what is the kyngis will. Miles 2 Sir, here is Herowde all even here at oure hende, And all oure entente tyte schall we tell hym vntill. Miles 1 Who is here? Dux 1 Who is there? Miles 1 Sir, we are knyghtis kende Is comen to youre counsaill this carle for to kill. Dux 1 Sirs, but youre message may myrthis amende, Stalkis furthe be yone stretis or stande stone still. Miles 2 Yis certis ser, of myrthis we mene, The kyng schall haue matteres to melle hym. The kyng schall haue matteres to melle hym. We brynge here a boy vs betwene, Wherefore to haue worschippe we wene. Dux 1 Wele sirs, so that it turne to no tene, Tentis hym and we schall go telle hym. My lorde, yondir is a boy boune that brought is in blame, Haste you in hye, thei houe at youre yoate. Rex What, and schall I rise nowe, in the deuyllis name, To stighill amang straungeres in stales of astate? But haue here my hande, halde nowe, And se that my sloppe be wele sittande. Dux 1 My lorde, with a goode will Y wolde youe, No wrange will I witte at my wittande. But my lorde, we can tell yoou of vncouthe tythande. Rex YOa, but loke ye telle vs no tales but trewe. Dux 2 My lorde, thei bryng you yondir a boy boune in a bande THat bodus outhir bourdyng or bales to brewe. Rex THanne gete we some harrowe full hastely at hande. Dux 1 My lorde, ther is some note that is nedfull to neven you of new. Rex Why, hoppis thou thei haste hym to hyng? Dux 2 We wotte noght ther will nor ther wenyng, But boodword full blithely thei bryng. Rex Nowe do than and late vs se of there sayng. Dux 2 Lo sirs, ye schall carpe with the kyng, And telles to hym manly youre menyng. Miles 1 Lorde, welthis and worschippis be with you alway. Rex What wolde you? Miles 2 A worde, lorde, and youre willes were. Rex Well, saye on than. Miles 1 My lorde, we fare foolys to flay THat to you wolde forfette. Rex We, faire falle you therfore. Miles 1 My lorde, fro yoe here what we saie Itt will heffe vppe youre hertis. Rex YOa, but saie what heynde haue yoe thore? Miles 2 A presente fro Pilate, lorde, the prince of oure lay. Rex Pese in my presence, and nemys hym no more. Miles 1 My lorde, he woll worschippe you faine. Rex I consayue yoe are ful foes of hym. Miles 2 My lorde, he wolde menske you with mayne, And therfore he sendis you this swayne. Rex Gose tyte with that gedlyng agayne, And saie hym a borowed bene sette I noght be hym. Dux 1 A, my lorde, with youre leve, thei haue faren ferre, And for to fraiste of youre fare was no folye. Dux 2 My lorde, and this gedlyng go thus it will greue werre, For he gares growe on this grounde grete velanye. Rex Why, menys thou that that myghtyng schulde my myghtes marre? Dux 1 Nay lorde, but he makis on this molde mekill maystrie. Rex Go ynne, and late vs see of the sawes ere, And but yf thei be to oure bordyng, thai both schalle abye. Miles 2 My lorde, we were worthy to blame To brynge you any message of mysse. Rex Why than, can ye nemyn vs his name? Miles 1 Sir, Criste haue we called hym at hame. Rex O, this is the ilke selue and the same- Nowe sirs, ye be welcome ywisse. And in faith I am fayne he is fonne, His farles to frayne and to fele; Nowe thes games was grathely begonne. Miles 2 Lorde, lely that likis vs wele. Rex Ya, but dar yoe hete hartely that harlott is he? Miles 1 My lorde, takis hede and in haste ye schall here howe. Rex Ya, but what menys that this message was made vnto me? Miles 2 My lorde, for it touches to tresoune I trowe. Miles 1 My lorde, he is culpabill kende in oure contré Of many perillus poyntis, as Pilate preves nowe. Miles 2 My lorde, when Pilate herde he had gone thurgh Galylé He lerned vs that that lordschippe longed to yoou, And or he wiste what youre willis were, No ferther wolde he speke for to spille hym. Rex THanne knawes he that oure myghtis are the more? Miles 1 YOa, certis sir, so saie we thore. Rex Nowe sertis, and oure frenschippe therfore We graunte hym, and no greuaunce we will hym. And sirs, ye are welcome ywisse as ye wele awe, And for to wende at youre wille Y you warande, For I haue coveite kyndely that comely to knawe, For men carpis that the carle schulde be konnand. Miles 2 My lorde, wolde he saie you soth of his sawe, YOe saugh nevir slik selcouth, be see nor be sande. Rex Nowe gois abakke both and late the boy blowe, For I hope we gete some harre hastely at hande. Miles 1 Jerusalem and the Jewes may haue joie And hele in ther herte for to here hym. Rex Saie, beene-venew in bone fay, Ne plesew a parle remoy? Miles 2 Nay my lorde, he can of no bourdyng, this boy. Rex No sir? With thi leue we schall lere hym. Filius 1 Mi lorde, se ther knyghtis that knawe and are kene, How thai come to youre courte withoutyn any call. Rex YOa sone, and musteris grete maistries, what may this bymene? Dux 1 My lorde, for youre myghtis are more than thei all They seke you as souerayne, and sertis that is sene. Rex Nowe certis, sen yoe saie so, assaie hym I schall, For I am fayner of that freyke then othir fiftene, YOae, and hym that firste fande, faire myght hym fall. Miles 1 Lorde, lely we lereth you no legh, THis liffe that he ledis will lose hym. Rex Wele sirs, drawes you adrygh, And bewscheris, bryngis yoe hym nygh, For yif all that his sleghtis be slye YOitte or he passe we schalle appose hym. O, my harte hoppis for joie To se nowe this prophette appere. We schall haue goode game with this boy- Takis hede, for in haste yoe schall here. I leve we schall laugh and haue likyng To se nowe this lidderon her he leggis oure lawis. Dux 2 Harke cosyne, thou comys to karpe with a kyng, Take tente and be conande, and carpe as thou knowis. Dux 1 Ya, and loke that thou be not a sotte of thy saying, But sadly and sone thou sette all thi sawes. Rex Hym semys full boudisch, that boy that thei bryng. Dux 2 Mi lorde, and of his bordyng grete bostyng men blawes. Rex Whi, therfore haue I soughte hym to see. Loke, bewsheris, ye be to oure bodis boune. Dux 1 Knele doune here to the kyng on thy knee. Dux 2 Naye, nedelyngis yt will not be. Rex Loo sirs, he mekis hym no more vnto me THanne it were to a man of ther awne toune. Dux 1 Whe! Go, lawmere, and lerne the to lowte Or thai more blame the to-bring. Rex Nay, dredeles withouten any doute He knawes noyot the course of a kyng. And her beeis in oure bale, bourde or we blynne- Saie firste at the begynnyng withall, where was thou borne? Do felawe, for thy faith, latte vs falle ynne. Firste of thi ferleis, who fedde the beforne? What, deynes thou not? Lo sirs, he deffis vs with dynne. Say, whare ledde yoe this lidrone? His langage is lorne. Miles 1 My lorde, his mervaylis to more and to myne Or musteres emange vs both mydday and morne. Miles 2 Mi lorde, it were to fele Of wonderes, he workith tham so wightely. Miles 1 Whe man, momelyng may nothyng avayle, Go to the kyng and tell hyme fro toppe vnto tayle. Rex Do bringe vs that boy vnto bale, For lely we leffe hym noyot lightly. Dux 1 This mop mennes that he may marke men to ther mede; He makes many maistries and mervayles emange. Dux 2 V ml. folke faire gon he feede With fyve looffis and two fisshis to fange. Rex Howe fele folke sais thou he fedde? Dux 2 V ml. lorde, that come to his call. Rex YOa boye? Howe mekill brede he them bedde? Dux 1 But v looffis dare I wele wedde. Rex Nowe be the bloode that Mahounde bledde, What, this was a wondir at all. Dux 2 Nowe lorde, ij fisshis blissid he efte And gaffe thame, and ther none was forgetyn. Dux 1 YOa lorde, and xij lepfull ther lefte Of releue whan all men had eten. Rex Of such anodir mangery no man mene may. Dux 2 Mi lorde, but his maistries that musteris his myght. Rex But saie sirs, ar ther sawis soth that thei saie? Miles 2 YOa lorde, and more selcouth were schewed to oure sight. One Lazar, a ladde that in oure lande lay, Lay loken vndir layre fro lymme and fro light, And his sistir come rakand in rewfull arraye. And lorde, for ther raryng he raysed hym full right, And fro his grath garte hym gang Euere forthe, withouten any evill. Rex We, such lesyngis lastis to lange. Miles 1 Why lorde, wene yoe that wordis be wronge? THis same ladde leuys vs emang. Rex Why, there hope Y be dedis of the deuyll. Why schulde yoe haste hym to hyng That sought not newly youre newys? Miles 2 My lorde, for he callis hym a kyng And claymes to be a kyng of Jewis. Rex But saie, is he kyng in his kyth wher he come froo? Miles 1 Nay lorde, but he callis hym a kyng his caris to kele. Rex Thanne is it litill wondir yf that he be woo, For to be weried with wrang sen he wirkis wele; But he schalle sitte be myselfe sen yoe saie soo. Comes nerre, kyng, into courte. Saie, can yoe not knele? We schalle haue gaudis full goode and games or we goo. Howe likis tha, wele lorde? Saie. What, deuyll, neuere a dele? I faute in my reuerant in otill moy, I am of fauour, loo, fairer be ferre. Kyte oute yugilment. Vta! Oy! Oy! Be any witte that Y watte it will waxe werre. Seruicia primet, Such losellis and lurdaynes as thou, loo, Respicias timet. What the deuyll and his dame schall Y now doo? Do carpe on, carle, for Y can the cure. Say, may thou not here me? Oy man, arte thou woode? Nowe telle me faithfully before howe thou fore. Forthe, frende. Be my faith, thou arte a fonde foode. Dux 1 My lorde, it astonys hym, youre steuen is so store Hym had leuere haue stande stone still ther he stode. Rex And whedir the boy be abasshid of Herrowde byg blure That were a bourde of the beste, be Mahoundes bloode. Dux 2 My lorde, Y trowe youre fauchone hym flaies And lettis hym. Rex Nowe lely I leue the, And therfore schall Y waffe it away And softely with a septoure assaie. Nowe sir, be perte Y the pray, For none of my gromys schall greue the. Si loqueris tibi laus, Pariter quoque prospera dantur; Si loqueris tibi fraus, Fell fex et bella parantur. Mi menne, yoe go menske hym with mayne, And loke yhow that it wolde seme. Dux 1 Dewcus fayff ser and sofferayne. Dux 2 Sir vdins amangidre demayne. Rex Go aunswer thaym grathely agayne. What, deuyll, whedir dote we or dreme? Miles 1 Naye we gete noyot o worde, dare Y wele wedde, For he is wraiste of his witte or will of his wone. Rex YOe saie he lakkid youre lawis as yoe that ladde ledde? Miles 2 YOa lorde, and made many gaudis as we haue gone. Rex Nowe sen he comes as a knave and as a knave cledde, Wherto calle ye hym a kyng? Dux 1 Nay lorde, he is none, But an harlotte is hee. Rex What, deuyll, Y ame harde stedde, A man myght as wele stere a stokke as a stone. Filius 1 My lorde, this faitour so fouly is affrayde, He loked neuere of lorde so langly allone. Rex No sone, the rebalde seis vs so richely arayed He wenys we be aungelis euere-ilkone. Dux 2 My lorde, Y holde hym agaste of youre gaye gere. Rex Grete lordis augh to be gay. Here schall no man do to the dere, And therfore yit nemyne in my nere- For by the grete god, and thou garre me swere THou had neuere dole or this day. Do carpe on tyte, karle, of thy kynne. Dux 1 Nay, nedelyngis he neuyns you with none. Rex THat schalle he bye or he blynne- Dux 2 A, leves lorde. Rex Lattis me allone. Dux 1 Nowe goode lorde, and ye may, meue you no more, Itt is not faire to feght with a fonned foode, But gose to youre counsaille and comforte you there. Rex Thou sais soth. We schall see yf so will be goode, For certis oure sorowes are sadde. Filius 2 What a deuyll ayles hym? Mi lorde, I can garre you be gladde, For in tyme oure maistir is madde. He lurkis, loo, and lokis like a ladde, He is wode lorde, or ellis his witte faylis hym. Filius 3 Mi lorde, yoe haue mefte you as mekill as yoe may, For yhe myght menske hym no more were he Mahounde; And sen it semys to be soo, latte vs nowe assaie. Rex Loke, bewscheris, yoe be to oure bodis boune. Dux.1 Mi lorde, howe schulde he dowte vs? He dredis not youre dray. Rex Nowe do fourthe, the deuyll myght hym droune! And sen he freyms falsed and makis foule fraye, Raris on hym rudely, and loke yoe not roune. Filius 1 Mi lorde, I schall enforce myselffe sen yoe saie soo. Felawe, be noyot afferde nor feyne not therfore, But telle vs nowe some truffillis betwene vs twoo, And none of oure men schall medill tham more. And therfore by resoune array the, Do telle vs some poynte for thy prowe. Heris thou not what Y saie the? THou mummeland myghtyng, I may the Helpe, and turne the fro tene as Y trowe. Filius 2 Loke vppe ladde, lightly, and loute to my lorde here, For fro bale vnto blisse he may nowe the borowe. Carpe on, knave, kantely, and caste the to corde here, And saie me nowe somwhat, thou sauterell, with sorowe. Why standis thou as stille as a stone here? Spare not, but speke in this place here THou gedlyng, it may gayne the some grace here. Filius 3 My lorde, this faitour is so ferde in youre face here None aunswere in this nede he nevyns you with none here. Do bewsher, for Beliall bloode and his bonys, Say somwhat-or it will waxe werre. Filius 1 Nay, we gete nouyot one worde in this wonys. Filius 2 Do crie we all on hym at onys. All Chylder Oyoez! Oyoez! Oyoez! Rex O, yoe make a foule noyse for the nonys. Filius 3 Nedlyng my lorde, it is neuere the nerre. Filius 1 Mi lorde, all youre mutyng amendis not a myte, To medill with a madman is meruaille to me. Comaunde youre knyghtis to clothe hym in white And late hym carre as he come to youre contré. Rex Lo sirs, we lede you no lenger a lite, Mi sone has saide sadly how that it schuld be- But such a poynte for a page is to parfite. Dux 1 Mi lorde, fooles that are fonde thei falle such a fee. Rex What, in a white garmente to goo, THus gayly girde in a gowne? Dux 2 Nay lorde, but as a foole forcid hym froo. Rex How saie yoe sirs, schulde it be soo? All Chylder YOa lord. Rex We, than is ther no more, But boldely bidde tham be boune. Sir knyghtis, we caste to garre you be gladde, Oure counsaile has warned vs wisely and wele. White clothis we saie fallis for a fonned ladde, And all his foly in faith fully we feele. Dux 1 We will with a goode will for his wedis wende, For we wotte wele anowe what wedis he schall were. Dux 2 Loo, here is an haterell here at youre hende Alle faciound therfore foolis to feere. Miles 1 Loo here a joppon of joie, All such schulde be gode for a boy. Dux 1 He schalle be rayed like a roye, And schall be fonne in his folie. Dux 2 We, thanke tham, euyll motte thou the. Miles 1 Nay, we gete noyot a worde wele Y warand. Miles 2 Man, mustir some meruaile to me. Dux 1 What, wene yoe he be wiser than we? Leffe we and late the kyng see Howe it is forcyd and farand. Mi lorde, loke yf yoe be paied, For we haue getyn hym his gere. Rex Why, and is this rebalde arayed? My blissing, bewscheris, yoe bere. Gose, garre crye in my courte and grathely garre write All the dedis that we haue done in this same degré. And who fyndis hym greued late hym telle tyte, And yf we fynde no defaute hym fallis to go free. Dux 1 Oyoes! Yf any wight with this wriche any werse wate Werkis beris wittenesse who so wirkis wrang, Buske boldely to the barre his balis to abate, For my lorde, be my lewté, will not be deland lang. My lorde, here apperes none to appeyre his estate. Rex Wele thanne, fallis hym goo free. Sir knyghtis, thanne grathis you goodly to gange, And repaire with youre present and saie to Pilate We graunte hym oure frenschippe all fully to fang. Miles 1 My lorde, with youre leue this way schall we lere, Vs likis no lenger here to abide. Miles 2 Mi lorde, and he worthe ought in were, We come agayne with goode chere. Rex Nay bewscheris, yoe fynde vs not here, Oure leue will we take at this tyde And rathely araye vs to reste, For such notis has noyed vs or nowe. Dux 1 YOa, certis lorde, so holde Y beste, For this gedlyng vngoodly has greued you. Dux 2 Loke yoe bere worde as ye wotte, Howe wele we haue quitte vs this while. Miles 1 We, wise men will deme it we dote But if we make ende of oure note. Rex Wendis fourth, the deuyll in thi throte, We fynde no defaute hym to file. Wherfore schulde we flaye hym or fleme hym We fynde noyot in rollis of recorde; And sen that he is dome, for to deme hym, Ware this a goode lawe for a lorde? Nay losellis, vnlely yoe lerned all to late, Go lere thus lordingis of youre londe such lessons to lere. Repaire with youre present and saie to Pilate We graunte hym oure poure all playne to appere, And also oure greuaunce forgeue we algate And we graunte hym oure grace with a goode chere. As touchyng this brothell that brawlis or debate, Bidde hym wirke as he will, and wirke noght in were. Go telle hym this message fro me, And lede fourth that mytyng, euyll motte he the. Miles 1 Mi lorde, with youre leue, late hym be, For all to longe ledde hym haue we. Miles 2 What, yoe sirs, my lorde, will yoe see? Rex What, felawes? Take yoe no tente what I telle you And bid you? THat yoman ye yoeme. Miles 2 Mi lorde, we schall wage hym an ill way. Rex Nay bewscheris, be not so bryme. Fare softely, for so will it seme. Miles 1 Nowe sen we schall do as ye deme, Adewe sir. Rex Daunce on, in the deuyll way. Play 32Pilate Pees, bewscheres, I bidde you, that beldis here aboute me, And loke that yoe stirre with no striffe but stande stone still, Or by the lorde that me liffe lente I schall garre you lowte me, And all schall byde in my bale that wirkis noyot my will. Ye rebaldis that regnys in this rowte, YOe stynte of youre steuenyng so stowte, Or with this brande that dere is to doute All to dede I schall dryue you this day. For sir Pilate of Pounce as prince am Y preued, As renke moste royall in richeste array, THer is no berne in this burgh has me aboute heuyd, But he sekis me for souereyne, in certayne Y saie, To knawe. Therfore take hede to youre lordis estate, THat none jangill nor jolle at my yoate, Nor no man to grath hym no gate Tille I haue seggid and saide all my sawe. For I ame the luffeliest lappid and laide, With feetour full faire in my face, My forhed both brente is and brade And myne eyne thei glittir like the gleme in the glasse. And the hore that hillis my heed Is even like to the golde wyre, My chekis are bothe ruddy and reede And my coloure as cristall is cleere. Ther is no prince preuyd vndir palle But I ame moste myghty of all to behold, Nor no kyng but he schall come to my call, Nor grome that dare greue me for golde. Sir Kayphas, thurgh counsaill thi clergy is kid, For thy counsaille is knowyn for connand and clere; And sir Anna, thyn aunswer aught not to be hidde, For thou is one and is abill and aught to be nere In parlament playne. And I am prince pereles youre poyntis to enquere: How saie yoe Jues of Jesus, that swayne? Haue done sirs, sais on youre sawis, What tytill nowe haue yoe vntill hym And lely yoe loke vppon youre lawes? Saye, why sente yoe so sone for to spille hym? Anna Sir, that is prince and lorde of oure laye, That traitour vntrewe that ye of telle vs, Nowe certayne and sone the soth schall I saie It is Jesus that japer that Judas ganne selle vs. He marres oure men in all that he may, His merueylis full mekill is mustered emelle vs, That faitoure so false. He dois many derffe dedis on oure Sabotte day, THat vnconnand conjeon he castis hym to quelle vs, Fro man onto man he will compelle vs And vndo you and ourselffe als. Youreselffe he will fordo And he halde furth this space, And all this Jurie to Yf that ye graunte hym grace. Pilate Sir Anna, this aunswere allow I no thyng, I halde it but hatereden, this artikill hale; And therfore ser busshoppe, at my biddyng, Do telle me nowe trewly the texte of this tale. Do termyne it trewly and tyte And lely yoe lede it by the lawe; Felonye or falsed euyn here I defie it- Saie me sadly the soth, for loue or for awe. Caiphas Sir Pilate, the talis the traitoure has tolde, It heuys vs in harte full haly to here tham. THe warlowe with his wilis he wenys tham to wolde, THe ladde with his lesyngis full lightly gan lere tham. Full tyte will he take tham vntill hym And he thus forth go with his gaudis, Or speche ouersprede-yoa, bettir is to spille hym, The faitoure is so felle with his false fraudis. Pilate Youre aunsweres is hedouse and hatefull to here. Hadde I not herde hym and myselfe had hym sene Yitt yoe myght haue made me to trowe you intere; But faute in hym I fynde none, but conande and clene. For conande and clene can I clere hym, No faute can I fynde to reffuse hym, I hope yitt in haste yoe schall here hym Whanne he comys to racleyme-than may yoe cuse hym. Miles 1 Lorde, fele of his ferles in faith haue we fonne, Yone harlotte heuys oure hartis full of hate ire. He sais hymselffe that he is Goddis sone And schall sitte on the right hande beside his awne sire. Miles 2 THer talis is full trewe that we telle. On the raynebowe the rebalde it redis, He sais he schall haue vs to heuene or to hell To deme vs aday aftir oure dedis. Pilate To deme vs, in the deuyll name? Say whedir? Saie whedir, to the deuyll? What, dastardis, wene ye be wiser than we? Miles 1 Mi lorde, with youre leue, we neuen it for non ill, He has mustered his mervayles to mo than to me. Mi souerayne lorde, yone sauterell he sais He schall caste doune oure tempill, noyot for to layne, And dresse it vppe dewly within thre daies Als wele as it was, full goodely agayne. Anna YOa sir, and on oure awne Sabott day THanne werkis he werkis full wele. Pilate We, fye on hym, faitour, for ay, For thei are darke dedis of the deuyll. Caiphas Sir, a noysomemare note newly is noysed THat greuis me more than any kynne thyng, He claymes hym clerly till a kyngdome of Jewes And callis hymselffe oure comeliest kyng. Pilate Kyng, in the deuillis name? We, fye on hym, dastard. What, wenys that woode warlowe ouere-wyn vs thus wightly? A begger of Bedlem, borne as a bastard? Nowe by Lucifer, lach I that ladde I leue hym not lightly. Anna Sir, the harlotte is at Heroudes hall euyn her at your hande. Pilate I sente to hym that warlowe, the deuyll myght hym wery. Caiphas It langis to youre lordschippe be lawe of this land As souerayne youreselffe to sitte of enquery. Anna Sir, the traitoure has tolde vs mo trufullis truly Wolde tene you full tyte and we you tham tolde. Pilate Nowe be Beliall bonis that boy schall abie And bring on his bak a burdeyne of golde. Filius 1 Mi lorde that is ledar of lawis of this lande, YOe sente hym yourselfe to Herowde the kyng And sais, `THe dome of that doge lies holy in your hande, To deme hym or lose hym at youre likyng'. And thus yoe comaunded youre knyghtis for to saie; For sir Heroude will serche hym full sore, So that he wende with no wilis away- And therfore, my goode lorde, moue you no more. Caiphas Nowe certis this was wele saide. But sir, wille yoe sese nowe and we schall se syne? Pilate Sir Kayphas and Anna, right so nowe I thynke. Sittis, in Mahoundis blissing, and aske vs the wyne- YOe knyghtis of my courte, comaundis vs to drynke. Judas Allas for woo that I was wrought Or euere I come be kynde or kynne, I banne the bonys that me furth brought, Woo worthe the wombe that I bredde ynne. So may I bidde, For I so falsely did to hym THat vnto me grete kyndnesse kidde. THe purse with his spens aboute I bare, THer was none trowed so wele as I. Of me he triste, no man mare, And I betrayed hym traytourly With a false trayne. Sakles I solde his blessid body Vnto Jues for to be slayne. To slaa my souereyne assente I And tolde them the tyme of his takyng, Shamously myselfe thus schente I So sone for to sente to his slayng. Nowe wiste I howe he myght passe that payne; To loke that howe beste bote myght be Vnto the Jues I will agayne To saue hym-he myght passe free, THis ware my will. Lorde, welthe and worschippe mot with yow be. Pilate What tythandis, Judas, tellis thou vs till? Judas My tydyngis are tenefull, I telle yoou Sir Pilate, therfore I you praye, My maistir that I gune selle yoou, Gode lorde, late hym wende on his way. Caiphas Nay, nedelyngis Judas, that we denye. What mynde or mater has moued the thus? Judas Sir, I haue synned full greuously, Betraied that rightwisse bloode, Jesus And maistir myne. Caiphas Bewscher, what is that till vs? THe perill and the plight is thyne. Thyne is the wronge, thou wroughte it. THou hight vs full trulye to take hym, And oures is the bargayne, we boughte it- Loo, we are alle sente for to slee hym. Judas Allas, that may me rewe full ill Giffe yoe assente hym for to slaa. Pilate Why, what wolde thou that we did thertill? Judas I praie you goode lorde, late hym gaa, And here is of me youre paymente playne. Caiphas Naie, we will noght so, We bought hym for he schulde be slayne. To slee hym thiselffe thou assentit, THis wate thou wondirly wele. What right is nowe to repente it? THou schapist thiselffe vnseele. Anna Do waie Judas, thou dose for noght, Thy wordis I warne the are in waste. Thyselffe to selle hym whanne thou vs sought, THou was agaynste hym thanne the moste Of vs ilkan. Caiphas We schall be venged on hym in haste, Whedir that euere he wille or none. Pilate THer wordis that thou nenys noght nedis it, THou onhanged harlott, harke what I saie; Spare of thy spekyng, noght spedis it, Or walke oute at the dore in the deuill way. Judas Why will ye thanne noyot latte hym passe And haue of me agayne youre paie? Pilate I telle the traytoure, I wille it noght. Judas Allas, thanne am I lorne Bothe bone and bloode. Allas the while so may I saie, That euere I sente to spille his bloode. To saue his bloode sirs, I saie youe, And takes you thare youre payment hole. Spare for to spille hym I praye youe, Ellis brewe yoe me full mekill bale. Pilate Nay, heriste thou Judas, thou schall agayne, We will it nouyot. What deuyll art thou? When thou vs sought thou was full fayne Of this money. What aylis the nowe For to repente? Judas Agayne sirs here I giffe it you, And saue hym that he be noyot schent. Pilate To schende hym thyselfe has the schamed, THou may lathe with thi liffe that thou ledis, Fondely as a false foole thiselffe has famed, Therfore the deuyll the droune for thy darfe dedis. Judas I knawe my trespasse and my gilte, It is so grete it garres me grise; Me is full woo he schulde be spilte, Might I hym saue of any wise Wele were me than. Saue hym sirs-to youre seruise I will me bynde to be your man. Youre bondeman, lorde, to be Nowe euere will I bynde me. Sir Pilate, ye may trowe me, Full faithfull schall yoe fynde me. Pilate Fynde the faithfull? A, foule mot the falle Or thou come in oure companye, For by Mahoundes bloode thou wolde selle vs all. Thi seruice will we noght, forthy THou art vnknowen. Fals tiraunte, for thi traitoury THou art worthi to be hanged and drawen. Hanged and drawen schulde thou be, knave, And thou had right, by all goode reasoune. Thi maistirs bloode thou biddist vs saue And thou was firste that did hym treasoune. Judas I cry yoou mercy lorde, on me rewe, THis werryd wight that wronge has wrought. Haue mercy on my maistir trewe THat I haue in youre bandome brought [... ...] Pilate Goo jape the Judas, and neuen it noght, Nor move vs of this matere more. Anna No more of this matere thou move the, THou momeland mytyng emell, Oure poynte expresse her reproues the Of felonye falsely and felle. Caiphas He grucchis noyot to graunte his gilte, Why schonnys thou noyot to shewe thi schame? We bought hym for he schulde be spilte, All same we were consente to the same And thiselffe als. THou feyned noyot for to defame, THou saide he was a traytoure fals. Pilate YOaa, and for a false faitoure Thyselffe full fully gon file hym- O that was a trante of a traytour, So sone thou schulde goo to begile hym. Miles 1 What, wolde thou that we lete hym ga, Yone weried wight that wrought such wronge? We will noght lose oure bargayne swaa, So lightely for to late hym gang. And reson why? Latte we that lotterell liffe ought long It will be fonde, in faith, foly. Miles 2 Yone folte, for no fooles schall he fynde vs. We wotte all full wele howe it was His maistir whanne he gune bringe vs, He praied yow my goode lord late hym not passe. Pilate Nay, sertis, he schalle noyot passe free THat we for oure mony has paied. Judas Take it agayne that yoe toke me And saue hym fro that bittir braide, THan were I fayne. Anna Itt serues of noght that thou has saide, And therfore takis it tyte agayne. Pilate Tyte agayne, traytoure, thou take it, We wille it noght welde within oure wolde. YOitt schalte thou noyot, sawterell, thus sune forsake it, For I schall sers hym myselffe sen thou has hym solde. Caiphas Forsake it in faith, that he ne schall, For we will halde hym that we haue. The payment chenys the withall, The thar no nodir comenaunte craue [... ...] Judas Sen yoe assente hym for to slaa, Vengeaunce I crie on you ilkone. Ilkane I crie, the deuill fordo youe, And that myghte I both here and see. Herde heuenyng here I wnto youe, For sorowe onsought ye on me se. Caiphas Whe, fye on the, traytoure attaynte, at this tyde, Of treasoune thou tyxste hym that triste the for trewe. Do buske the henne, brothell, no lenger thou abide, For if thou do, all thi respouns sare schall the rewe. Say, wote thou noght who is I? Nowe be my nociens, myght I negh nere the, In certayne, ladde, yitt schulde I lere the To lordis to speke curtaisely. Pilate Go thy gatis, geddlyng, and greue vs no more. Leffe of thi talke, the deuill mot the hange. Judas THat att yoe toke me, take it you there, Ther with youre maistrie make yowe emange And clayme it you clene, Me lathes with my liff, so liffe I to lang, My traitourfull torne he turment my tene. Sen for my treasoune haue I tane vnto me, Me thare aske no mercy, for none mon Y gete. Therfore in haste myselffe schall fordo me, Allas the harde while that euere ete I meete. Thus schall I marke my mytyng meede And wirke me wreke with harte and will, To spille myselffe nowe wille I spede, For sadly haue I seruyd thertill. So walaway THat euere I was in witte or wille THat tristy trewe for to betraye. Allas, who may I meue to, Shall I me take non othir reede? Miselffe in haste I schall fordoo And take me nowe vnto my dede. Caiphas Haue done nowe sir Pilate, late se what yoe saie As touchyng this money that we here haue, THat Judas in a wreth has wauyd away And keste vs crabbidly, that cursed knave. How saie yoe therby? Anna Sir, sen he it slang we schall it saue. Caiphas Tite truste it tille oure tresorie. Pilate Nay sir, noght soo. Caiphas Why sir, how than? Pilate Sir, it schall nouyot combre vs nor come in oure corbonan. Caiphas No, tille oure tresory certayne farther schall it nought. Pilate And se youreselffe soth certayne and skill It is price of the bloode that we with it boght, Therfore some othir poynte I purpose it till, And thus I deuyse: A spotte of erthe for to by wayte nowe I will, To berie in pilgrimes that by the wey dies. Pilgrimes and palmeres to putte there- Sir Kaiphas and Anna, assente yoe therto?- And othere false felons that we forfare. Anna As yoe deme lorde, so wille we doo. Armiger Hayle sir Pilate perles, and prince of this empire, Haile the gaiest on grounde in golde ther yoe glide, Haile the louffeliest lorde of lyme and of lyre, And all the soferans semely that sittith the beside. Pilate What wolde thou? Armiger A worde lorde, and wende. Pilate Nowe thou arte welcome iwisse. But delyuere the lightly withouten any lette, We haue no tome all day to tente onto the. Armiger A place here-beside lorde wolde I wedde-sette. Pilate What title has thou therto? Is it thyne awne free? Armiger Lorde, fre be my fredome me fallis it, THis tale is full trewe that I telle yoou, And Caluary-locus men callis it. I wolle it wedde-sette, but not for to selle yoou. Pilate What wolde thou borowe, bewshire? Belyve late me se. Armiger If it ware youre lekyng, my lorde, for to lene it, xxxti pens I wolde yoe lente onto me. Caiphas Yis bewshire, that schall thou haue. Pilate Shewe vs thi dedis and haue here thi mony. Armiger Haue her gode lord, but loke yoe thame saue. Pilate YOis certis, we schall saue thame full soundely, And ellis do we noght dewly oure deuere. Faste, freke, for thy faith, on thy fote fonde the, For fro this place, bewschere, I soile the foreuere. Armiger Now sorowe on such socoure as I haue soght, For all my tresoure thurgh tresoune I tyne. I tyne it vntrewly by tresoune, THerfore nowe my way will I wende, For yoe do me no right nor no resoune I betake you all to the fende. Pilate Nowe certis we are serued att all, THis place is purchesed full propirly. The Felde of Bloode loke yoe it call, I you comaunde ilkone forthy. Caiphas Sir, as yoe comaunde vs call it schall we soo. But my lorde, with youre leue, we may lende her no lengar, But faste late vs founde to fang on oure foo, YOone gedlyng ongodly has brewed vs grete angir. Anna Do way sir busshoppe, and be not abaste, For loste is all oure lekyng, lepe he so light. Caiphas Nay sir, he schall not trusse so tite, and that be yoe traste, For it wynnes vs no worschippe the werkis of yone wight, But grete angir. Forthy late vs dresse vs his deth for to dite, And late we this lotterell leue her no lengar. Pilate Sir Kayphas, thurgh counsaile comaunde we our knyghtis To wacche on yone warlowe what way that he wendis. Do dresse yoou nowe dewly, to yone doderon yoou dightis And lette noyot to laite hym in lande where he lendis, Nor leuys hym noyot lightly. Miles 2 In faith we schall fette hym full farre fro his frendis. Pilate Nowe walkis on in the wanyand and wende youre way wightely. Play 33Pilate Lordyngis that are lymett to the lare of my liaunce, YOe schappely schalkes and schene for to schawe, I charge yoou as yoour chiftan that yoe chatt for no chaunce, But loke to youre lord here and lere at my lawe- As a duke I may dampne yoou and drawe. Many bernys bolde are aboute me, And what knyght or knave I may knawe THat list noyot as a lord for to lowte me, I sall lere hym In the deueles name, that dastard, to dowte me- YOa, who werkis any werkes withoute me, I sall charge hym in chynes to chere hym. Tharfore yoe lusty ledes within this lenght lapped, Do stynte of yooure stalkyng and of stoutnes be stalland. What traytoure his tong with tales has trapped, That fende for his flateryng full foull sall be falland. What broll ouere-brathely is bralland Or vnsoftely will sege in ther sales, THat caysteffe thus carpand and calland As a boy sall be broght vnto bales. THerfore Talkes not nor trete not of tales, For that gome that gyrnes or gales, I myself sall hym hurte full sore. Anna YOe sall sytt hym full sore, what sege will assay yoou; If he like not youre lordshippe, that ladde, sall yoe lere hym As a pereles prince full prestly to pay yoou, Or as a derworth duke with dyntes sall yoe dere hym. Caiphas YOaa, in faythe yoe haue force for to fere hym, Thurgh youre manhede and myght bes he marred. No chyualrus chiftan may chere hym Fro that churll with charge yoe haue charred [... ...] In pynyng payne bees he parred. Anna YOaa, and with schath of skelpys yll scarred Fro tyme that youre tene he haue tasted. Pilate Now certes, as me semes, whoso sadly has soght yoou, YOoure praysyng is prophetable yoe prelates of pees. Gramercy yooure goode worde, and vngayne sall it noyot you That yoe will say the sothe and for no sege cese. Caiphas Elles were it pité we appered in this prees- But consayue how yooure knyghtes ere command. Anna YOa my lord, that leve yoe no lese, I can telle you yoou tydes sum tythand Ful sadde. Pilate Se, they bring yooone brolle in a bande. We sall here nowe hastely at hand What vnhappe before Herowde he had. Miles 1 Hayll louelyest lorde that euere lawe led yoitt, Hayll semelyest vndre sylke on euere ilka syde, Hayll stateliest on stede in strenghe that is sted yoitt, Hayll liberall, hayll lusty to lordes allied. Pilate Welcome, what tydandis this tyde? Late no langgage lightly nowe lette yoou. Miles 2 Sir Herowde ser, it is noght to hyde, As his gud frende grathely he grete yowe Foreuere. In what manere that euere he mete yoou, By hymselfe full sone wille he sette yoou And sais that yoe sall not disseuer. Pilate I thanke hym full thraly; and ser, I saie hym the same- But what meruelous materes dyd this myron ther mell? Miles 1 For all the lordis langage his lipps, ser, wer lame; For any spirringes in that space no speche walde he spell, Bot domme as a dore gon he dwell. THus no faute in hym gon he fynde, For his dedis to deme hym to qwell, Nor in bandis hym brathely to bynde; And thus He sente hym to youreself, and assynde THat we, youre knyghtis, suld be clenly enclyned And tyte with hym to you to trus. Pilate Syrs, herkens, here yoe not what we haue oppon hand? Loo howe there knyghtes carpe that to the kyng cared. Syr Herowde, thai say, no faute in me fand, He fest me to his frenschippe, so frendly he fared, Moreover sirs, he spake-and noght spared- Full gentilly to Jesu, this Jewe, And sithen to ther knyghtis declared How fawtes in hym fande he but fewe To dye. He taste hym, I telle yoou for trewe, For to dere hym he demed vndewe, And sirs, ye sothly saie I. Caiphas Sir Pilate oure prince, we prelatis nowe pray yoou Sen Herowde fraysted no ferther this faitour to flaye, Resayue in yoour sall ther sawes that I saie yoou. Late bryng hym to barre and at his berde sall we baye. Anna YOa, for and he wende thus by wiles away I wate wele he wirke will vs wondre. Oure menyoé he marres that he may, With his seggynges he settes tham in sondre, With synne; With his blure he bredis mekill blondre. Whills yoe haue hym nowe haldes hym vndir- We sall wery hym away yf he wynne. Caiphas Sir, no tyme is to tarie this traytour to taste. Agayne ser Cesar hymselfe he segges, and saies All the wightis in this world wirkis in waste THat takis hym any tribute-thus his teching outrayes. YOitt forther he feynes slik affraies, And sais that hymself is God son. And ser, oure lawe leggis and layes In what faytour falsed is fon Suld be slayne. Pilate For no schame hym to shende will we shon. Anna Sir, witnesse of this wanes may be wonne, THat will telle this withowten any trayne. Caiphas I can reken a rable of renkes full right, Of perte men in prese fro this place ar I pas, THat will witnesse, I warande, the wordis of this wight, How wikkidly wrought that this wrecche has: Simon, YOarus and Judas, Datan and Gamaliell, Neptalim, Leui and Lucas, And Amys this maters can mell Togithere. THer tales for trewe can they telle Of this faytour that false is and felle, And in legyng of lawes ful lithre. Pilate YOa, tussch for youre tales, thai touche not entente. THer witnesse I warande that to witnesse yoe wage, Some hatred in ther hartis agaynes hym haue hent And purpose be this processe to putt doun this page. Caiphas Sir, in faith vs fallith not to fage, THai are trist men and true that we telle yoou. Pilate Youre swering, seris, swiftely yoe swage, And no more in this maters ye mell yoou I charge. Anna Sir, dispise not this speche that we spell you. Pilate If yoe feyne slike frawdis I sall felle yoou, For me likis noght youre langage so large. Caiphas Oure langage is to large, but yooure lordshipp releue vs. YOitt we both beseke you late brynge hym to barre; What poyntes that we putte forth latt your presence appreue vs- YOe sall here how this harlott heldes out of herre. Pilate YOa, butt be wise, witty, and warre. Anna YOis sir, drede yoou noyot for nothyng we doute hym. Pilate Fecche hym, he is noght right ferre- Do bedell, buske the abowte hym. Preco I am fayne My lorde for to lede hym or lowte hym. Vncleth hym, clappe hym and clowte hym If yoe bid me I am buxhome and bayne. Knyghtis, yoe er commaundid with this caityf to care, And bryng hym to barre, and so my lord badd. Miles 1 Is this thy messege? Preco YOa sir. Miles 1 THan moue the no mare, For we ar light for to leppe and lede forthe this ladd. Miles 2 Do steppe furth; in striffe ert thou stadde, I vphalde full euyll has the happed. Miles 1 O man, thy mynde is full madde, In oure clukis to be clowted and clapped And closed. Miles 2 THou bes lassched, lusschyd and lapped. Miles 1 YOa, rowted, russhed and rapped, THus thy name with noye sall be noysed. Miles 2 Loo this sege her, my souerayne, that yoe for sente. Pilate Wele, stirre noyot fro that stede, but stande stille thare. Bot he schappe som shrewdnesse with shame bese he shente, And I will frayst in faith to frayne of his fare. Caiphas We! Outte! Stande may I noyot, so I stare. Anna YOa, harrowe of this traytour with tene. Pilate Say renkes, what rewth gars you rare? Er ye woode or wittles I wene? What eyles yoou? Caiphas Out, slike a sight suld be sene. Anna YOa, allas, conquered ar we clene. Pilate We, ere yoe fonde, or youre force fayles yoou? Caiphas A, ser, saugh yoe noyot this sight, how that ther schaftes schuke, And thez baneres to this brothel thai bowde all on brede? Anna YOa, ther cursed knyghtes by crafte lete them croke To worshippe this warlowe vnworthy in wede. Pilate Was it dewly done thus indede? Caiphas YOa, yoa sir, oureselfe we it sawe. Pilate We, spitte on them, ill mott thai spede- Say dastardes, the deuyll mote yoou drawe, How dar yoe THer baners on brede that her blawe Lat lowte to this lurdan so lawe? O faytouris, with falshed how fare yoe? Miles 3 We beseke you and tho seniouris beside yoou sir sitte, With none of oure gouernaunce to be greuous and gryll, For it lay not in oure lott ther launces to lett, And this werke that we haue wrought it was not oure will. Pilate THou lise-harstow lurdan?-full ille. Wele thou watte if thou witnes it walde. Miles 4 Sir, oure strengh myght noyot stabill tham stille, They hilded for ought we couthe halde, Oure vnwittyng. Miles For all oure fors in faith did thai folde As this warlowe worschippe thai wolde- And vs semid, forsoth, it vnsittyng. Caiphas A, vnfrendly faytours, full fals is youre fable, THis segge with his suttelté to his seett hath you sesid. Miles 6 YOe may say what you semes ser, bot ther standerdes to stabill What freyke hym enforces full foull sall he be fesid. Anna Be the deuyllis nese, yoe ar doggydly diseasid- A, henne-harte, ill happe mot yoou hente. Pilate For a whapp so he whyned and whesid, And yoitt no lasshe to the lurdan was lente. Foul fall yoou. Miles 3 Sir, iwisse no wiles we haue wente. Pilate Shamefully yoou satt to be shente, Here combred caystiffes I call yoou. Miles 4 Sen yoou lykis not, my lord, oure langage to leve, Latte bryng the biggest men that abides in this land Propirly in youre presence ther pousté to preve; Beholde that they helde nott fro thei haue thaim in hand. Pilate Now yoe er ferdest that euere I fand, Fy on youre faynte hertis in feere. Stir the, no langer thou stande THou bedell, this bodworde thou bere Thurgh this towne, THe wyghtest men vnto were And the strangest ther standerdis to stere, Hider blithely bid tham be bowne. Preco My souerayne, full sone sall be serued youre sawe, I sall bryng to ther baneres right bigg men and strange. A company of keuellis in this contré I knawe That grete ere and grill, to the gomes will I gange. Say, ye ledis botht lusty and lange, YOe most passe to ser Pilate apace. Miles 1 If we wirke not his wille it wer wrang, We ar redy to renne on a race And rayke. Preco Then tarie not, but tryne on a trace And folow me fast to his face. Miles 2 Do lede vs, vs lykes wele this lake. Preco Lorde, here are the biggest bernes that bildis in this burgh, Most stately and strange if with strenght thai be streyned. Leve me ser, I lie not, to loke this lande thurgh, THai er myghtiest men with manhode demened. Pilate Wate thou wele, or ellis has thou wenyd? Preco Sir, I wate wele withoute wordis moo. Caiphas In thy tale be not taynted nor tenyd. Preco We, nay ser, why shuld I be soo? Pilate Wele than, We sall frayst or they founde vs fer fro To what game thai begynne for to go. Sir Cayphas, declare tham yoe can. Caiphas YOe lusty ledis, nowe lith to my lare, Schappe yoou to ther schaftis that so schenely her schyne. If yoon baners bowe the brede of an hare Platly yoe be putte to perpetuell pyne. Miles 1 I sall holde this as even as a lyne. Anna Whoso schakis with schames he shendes. Miles 2 I, certayne I saie as for myne, Whan it sattles or sadly discendis Whare I stande- When it wryngis or wronge it wendis, Outher bristis, barkis, or bendes- Hardly lat hakke of myn hande. Pilate Sirs, waites to ther wightis that no wiles be wrought, THai are burely and brode, thare bost haue thai blowen. Anna To neven of that nowe ser it nedis right noght, For who curstely hym quytes he sone sall be knawen. Caiphas YOa, that dastard to dede sall be drawen, Whoso fautis he fouly sall falle. Pilate Nowe knyghtis, sen the cokkis has crowen, Haue hym hense with hast fra this halle His wayes. Do stiffely steppe on this stalle, Make a crye, and cantely thou call Euene like as ser Annay the sais. Anna Oyes. Jesu, thou Jewe of gentill Jacob kynne, THou nerthrist of Nazareth, now neuend is thi name. Alle creatures the accuses. We commaunde the comme in And aunswer to thin enemys; deffende now thy fame. Caiphas We! Out! We are shente alle for shame, THis is wrasted all wrange as I wene. Anna For all ther boste yoone boyes are to blame. Pilate Slike a sight was neuere yoit sene. Come sytt, My comforth was caught fro me clene- I vpstritt, I me myght noyot abstene To wirschip hym in wark and in witte. Caiphas THerof meruayled we mekill what moued yoou in mynde In reuerence of this ribald so rudely to ryse. Pilate I was past all my powre thogh I payned me and pynd, I wrought not as I wolde in no maner of wise. Bot syrs, my spech wele aspise: Wightly his wayes late hym wende, THus my dome will dewly deuyse, For I am ferde hym in faith to offende In sightes. Anna THan oure lawe were laght till an ende To his tales if yoe treuly attende- He enchaunted and charmed oure knyghtis. Caiphas Be his sorcery, ser-youreselffe the soth sawe- He charmed oure chyualers and with myscheffe enchaunted. To reuerence hym ryally we rase all on rowe; Doutles we endure not of this dastard be daunted. Pilate Why, what harmes has this hatell here haunted? I kenne to convyk hym no cause. Anna To all gomes he God son hym graunted And liste not to leve on oure lawes. Pilate Say man, Consayues thou noyot what comberous clause THat this clargye accusyng the knawse? Speke, and excuse the if thou can. Jesus Euery man has a mouthe that made is on molde In wele and in woo to welde at his will, If he gouerne it gudly like as God wolde For his spirituale speche hym thar not to spill. And what gome so gouerne it ill, Full vnhendly and ill sall he happe; Of ilk tale thou talkis vs vntill THou accounte sall, thou can not escappe. Pilate Sirs myne, YOe fonne in faithe, all the frappe, For in this lede no lese can I lappe Nor no poynte to putt hym to pyne. Caiphas Withoute cause ser we come not this carle to accuse hym, And that will we yoe witt as wele is worthy. Pilate Now I recorde wele the right yoe will no rathere refuse hym To he be dreuen to his dede and demed to dye; But takes hym vnto you forthé, And like as youre lawe will you lere, Deme yoe his body to abye. Anna O, sir Pilate withouten any pere, Do way, YOe wate wele withouten any were Vs falles not, nor oure felowes in feere, To slo no man-youreself the soth say.. Pilate Why suld I deme to dede than withoute deseruyng in dede? But I haue herde al haly why in hertes yoe hym hate. He is fautles, in faith, and so God mote me spede I graunte hym my gud will to gang on his gate. Caiphas Nought so ser, for wele yoe it wate, To be kyng he claymeth, with croune, And whoso stoutely will steppe to that state YOe suld deme ser, to be dong doune And dede. Pilate Sir, trulye that touched to treasoune, And or I remewe he rewe sall that reasoune, And or I stalke or stirre fro this stede. Sir knyghtis that ar comly, take this caystiff in keping, Skelpe hym with scourges and with skathes hym scorne. Wrayste and wrynge hym to, for wo to he be wepyng, And than bryng hym before vs as he was beforne. Miles 1 He may banne the tyme he was borne, Sone sall he be serued as yoe saide vs. Anna Do wappe of his wedis that are worne. Miles 2 All redy ser, we haue arayde vs. Haue done, To this broll late vs buske vs and brayde vs As ser Pilate has propirly prayde vs. Miles 3 We sall sette to hym sadly sone. Miles 4 Late vs gete of his gere, God giffe hym ille grace. Miles 1 THai ere tytt of tite lo, take ther his trasshes. Miles 3 Nowe knytte hym in this corde. Miles 2 I am cant in this case. Miles 4 He is bun faste-nowe bete on with bittir brasshis. Miles 1 Go on, lepis, haryoé lordingis, with lasshes, And enforce we, this faitour, to flay hym. Miles 2 Late vs driffe to hym derfly with dasshes, Alle rede with oure rowtes we aray hym And rente hym. Miles 3 For my parte I am prest for to pay hym. Miles 4 YOa, sende hym sorow, assaye hym. Miles 1 Take hym that I haue tome for to tente hym. Miles 2 Swyng to this swyre to swiftely he swete. Miles 3 Swete may this swayne for sweght of our swappes. Miles 4 Russhe on this rebald and hym rathely rehete. Miles 1 Rehete hym I rede you with rowtes and rappes. Miles 2 For all oure noy this nygard he nappes. Miles 3 We sall wakken hym with wynde of oure whippes. Miles 4 Nowe flynge to this flaterer with flappes. Miles 1 I sall hertely hitte on his hippes And haunch. Miles 2 Fra oure skelpes not scatheles he skyppes. Miles 3 YOitt hym list not lyft vp his lippis And pray vs to haue pety on his paunch. Miles 4 To haue petie of his paunche he propheres no prayere. Miles 1 Lorde, how likes you this lake and this lare that we lere yoou? Miles 2 Lo, I pull at his pilche, I am prowd payere. Miles 3 Thus youre cloke sall we cloute to clence you and clere yoou. Miles 4 I am straunge in striffe for to stere yoou. Miles 1 THus with choppes this churll sall we chastye. Miles 2 I trowe with this trace we sall tere you. Miles 3 All thin vntrew techyngis thus taste I, THou tarand. Miles 4 I hope I be hardy and hasty. Miles 1 I wate wele my wepon not wast I. Miles 2 He swounes or sweltes I swarand. Miles 3 Late vs louse hym lightyly, do lay on your handes. Miles 4 YOa, for and he dye for this dede vndone ere we all. Miles 1 Nowe vnboune is this broll and vnbraced his bandes. Miles 2 O fule, how faris thou now? Foull mott the fall! Miles 3 Nowe because he oure kyng gon hym call We will kyndely hym croune with a brere. Miles 4 YOa, but first this purpure and palle And this worthy wede sall he were, For scorne. Miles 1 I am prowd at this poynte to apper. Miles 2 Latte vs clethe hym in ther clothes full clere, As a lorde that his lordshippe has lorne. Miles 3 Lange or thou mete slike a menyoé as thou mett with this morne. Miles 4 Do sette hym in this sete as a semely in sales. Miles 1 Now thryng to hym thrally with this thikk thorne. Miles 2 Lo, it heldes to his hede that the harnes out hales. Miles 3 Thus we teche hym to tempre his tales- His brayne begynnes for to blede. Miles 4 YOa, his blondre has hym broght to ther bales. Now reche hym and raught hym in a rede So rounde, For his septure it serues indede. Miles 1 YOa, it is gode inowe in this nede, Late vs gudly hym grete on this grounde. Aue, riall roy and rex judeorum, Hayle, comely kyng that no kyngdom has kende. Hayll vndughty duke, thi dedis ere dom, Hayll, man vnmyghty thi menyoé to mende. Miles 3 Hayll, lord without lande for to lende, Hayll kyng, hayll knave vnconand. Miles 4 Hayll, freyke without forse the to fende, Hayll strang, that may not wele stand To stryve. Miles 1 We, harlott, heve vp thy hande, And vs all that the wirschip are wirkand Thanke vs, ther ill mot thou thryve. Miles 2 So late lede hym belyve and lenge her no lenger, To ser Pilate oure prince oure pride will we prayse. Miles 3 YOa, he may synge or he slepe of sorowe and angir, For many derfe dedes he has done in his dayes. Miles 4 Now wightly late wende on oure wayes, Late vs trusse vs, no tyme is to tarie. Miles 1 My lorde, will yoe listen oure layes? Here this boy is yoe bade vs go bary With battis. Miles 2 We ar combered his corpus for to cary, Many wightis on hym wondres and wary- Lo, his flessh al beflapped that fat is. Pilate Wele, bringe hym before vs as he blisshes all bloo; I suppose of his seggyng he will cese euermore. Sirs, beholde vpon hight and ecce homoo THus bounden and bette and broght you before. Me semes that it sewes hym full sore, For his gilte on this grounde is he greuyd; If yoou like for to listen my lore [... ] In race [... ...] Pilate For propirly by this processe will I preve I had no force fro this felawshippe this freke for to fende. Preco Here is al, ser that yoe for sende. Wille yoe wasshe whill the watir is hote? Pilate Nowe this Barabas bandes yoe vnbende, With grace late hym gange on his gate Where yoe will. Barabas YOe worthy men that I here wate, God encrece all youre comely estate For the grace yoe haue graunt me vntill. Pilate Here the jugement of Jesu, all Jewes in this stede: Crucifie hym on a crosse and on Caluerye hym kill. I dampne hym today to dy this same dede, THerfore hyngis hym on hight vppon that high hill. And on aythir side hym I will THat a harlott yoe hyng in this hast- Methynkith it both reasoune and skill Emyddis, sen his malice is mast, YOe hyng hym; THen hym turmente, som tene for to tast. Mo wordis I will not nowe wast, But blynne not to dede to yoe bryng hym. Caiphas Sir, vs semys in oure sight that yoe sadly has saide. Now knyghtis that are conant with this catyf yoe care, The liffe of this losell in youre list is it laide. Miles 1 Late vs one my lorde, and lere vs na lare. Siris, sette to hym sadly and sare, All in cordis his coorse vmbycast. Miles 2 Late vs bynde hym in bandis all bare. Miles 3 Here is one, full lange will it laste. Miles 4 Lay on hande here. Miles I powll to my poure is past. Nowe feste is he felawes, ful fast; Late vs stere vs, we may not long stand here. Anna Drawe hym faste hense, delyuere yoou, haue done. Go, do se hym to dede withoute lenger delay, For dede bus hym be nedlyng be none. All myrthe bus vs move tomorne that we may, Itt is sothly oure grette Sabott day- No dede bodis vnberid sall be. Miles 6 We see wele the soth yoe vs say. We sall traylle hym tyte to his tree, THus talkand. Miles 4 Farewele, now wightely wende we. Pilate Nowe certis yoe are a manly menyoe, Furth in the wylde wanyand be walkand. Play 34Miles 1 Pees, barnes and bachillers that beldis here aboute, Stirre noyot ones in this stede but stonde stone stille, Or be the lorde that I leue on I schall gar you lowte. But yoe spare when I speke youre speche schall I spille Smertely and sone, For I am sente fro sir Pilate with pride To lede this ladde oure lawes to abide, He getis no bettir bone. Therfore I comaunde you on euere ilke a side, Vppon payne of enprisonment that no man appere To suppowle this traytoure, be tyme ne be tyde, [... ...] Noght one of this prees, Nor noght ones so hardy for to enquere, But helpe me holly alle that are here THis kaitiffe care to encrees. Therfore make rome and rewle you nowe right, That we may with this weried wight Wightely wende on oure waye. He napped noght of all this nyght, And this daye schall his deth be dight- Latte see who dare saie naye? Because tomorne is prouyde For oure dere Sabbott day, We wille no mysse be moued, But mirthe in all that euere men may. We haue bene besie all this morne To clothe hym and to croune with thorne, As falles for a fole kyng, And nowe methynkith oure felawes skorne, They highte to haue ben here this morne THis faitour forthe to bring. To nappe nowe is noyot goode- We, howe! High myght he hyng! Miles 2 Pees man, for Mahoundes bloode, Why make yoe such crying? Miles 1 Why, wotte thou noght als wele as I, THis carle burde vnto Caluery And there on crosse be done? Miles 2 Sen dome is geuen that he schall dy Late calle to vs more companye, And ellis we erre oure-fone. Miles 1 Oure gere behoues to be grayde And felawes sammed sone, For sir Pilate has saide Hym bus be dede be none. Where is sir Wymond, wotte thou oght? Miles 2 He wente to garre a crosse be wroght To bere this cursed knave. Miles 1 That wolde I sone wer hyder broght, For sithen schall othir gere be soght That vs behoues to haffe. Miles 2 Vs bus haue sties and ropes To rugge hym tille he raue, And nayles and othir japes If we oureselue wille saue. Miles 1 To tarie longe vs were full lathe, But Wymond come it is in wathe But we be blamed all three. We, howe, sir Wymond wayteskathe. Miles 2 We, howe, sir Wymond, howe. Miles 3 I am here-what saie yoe bathe? Why crye yoe so on me? I haue bene garre make THis crosse, as yhe may see, Of that laye ouere the lake- Men called it the kyngis tree. Miles 1 Nowe sekirly I thought the same, For that balke will no man vs blame To cutte it for the kyng. Miles 2 This karle has called hym kyng at hame, And sen this tre has such a name It is accordyng thyng THat his rigge on it may reste, For skorne and for hethyng. Miles 3 Methoughte it semyd beste Tille this bargayne to bryng. Miles 1 It is wele warred, so motte I spede, And it be lele in lenghe and brede THan is this space wele spende. Miles 3 To loke theraftir it is no nede, I toke the mesure or I yode, Bothe for the fette and hende. Miles 2 Beholde howe it is boorede Full euen at ilke an ende. This werke will wele accorde, It may not be amende. Miles 3 Nay, I haue ordande mekill more, YOaa, thes theues are sente before THat beside hym schall hyng. And sties also are ordande thore With stalworthe steeles as mystir wore, Bothe some schorte and some lang. Miles 1 For hameres and nayles Latte see sone who schall gang. Miles 2 Here are bragges that will noght faile, Of irnne and stele full strange. Miles 3 THanne is it as it aweth to bee- But whiche of yowe schall beere this tree, Sen I haue broughte it hedir? Miles 1 Be my feithe, bere it schall hee THat theron hanged sone schall bee, And we schall teeche hym whedir. Miles 2 Vppon his bakke it schalle be laide, For sone we schall come thedir. Miles 3 Loke that oure gere be grayede And go we all togedir. John Allas for my maistir that moste is of myght, That yoister-even late, with lanternes light, Before the busshoppe was brought. Bothe Petir and I we saugh that sight And sithen we wente oure wayes full wight, When the Jewes wondirly wrought. At morne thei toke to rede And soteltes vpsoght, And demed hym to be dede THat to tham trespassed noght. Allas for syte what schall I saie? My worldly welthe is wente for ay, In woo euere may I wende. My maistir that neuere lakke in lay Is demed to be dede this day, Ewen in hys elmys hende. Allas for my maistir mylde That all mennys mysse may mende, Shulde so falsely be filed And no frendis hym to fende. Allas for his modir and othir moo, Mi modir and hir sisteres alsoo, Sittes samen with sighyngis sore. THai wate nothyng of all this woo, Forthy to warne tham will I goo Sen I may mende no more. Sen he schall dye as tyte And thei vnwarned wore, I ware worthy to wite- I will go faste therfore. But in myn herte grete drede haue I THat his modir for dole schall dye, When she see ones that sight. But certis I schal not wande forthy To warne that carefull company Or he to dede be dight. [... ...] Sen he fro vs will twynne I schall the neuere forsake. Allas the tyme and tyde, I watte wele the day is come THat are was specified Of prophete Symeoun in prophicie: The swerde of sorowe schulde renne Thurghoute the herte, sotelly. Maria 2 Allas this is a sithfull sight, He that was euere luffely and light And lorde of high and lawe, Oo, doulfully nowe is he dight. In worlde is none so wofull a wighte Ne so carefull to knawe. THei that he mended moste In dede and als in sawe, Now haue they full grete haste To dede hym for to drawe. Jesus Doughteres of Jerusalem cytté, Sees, and mournes no more for me, But thynkes vppon this thyng: For youreselfe mourne schall yoee, And for the sonnes that borne schal be Of yowe, bothe olde and yonge. For such fare schall befalle, That yoe schall giffe blissyng To barayne bodies all, That no barnes forthe may brynge. For certis yoe schall see suche a day, That with sore sighyng schall yoe saye Vnto the hillis on highte, `Falle on vs mountaynes, and yoe may, And couere vs fro that felle affraye That on vs sone schall light'. Turnes home the toune vntill, Sen yoe haue seen this sight. It is my fadirs will, Alle that is done and dighte. Maria 3 Allas, this is a cursed cas. He that alle hele in his hande has Shall here be sakles slayne. A, lorde, beleue lete clense thy face- Behalde howe he hath schewed his grace, Howe he is moste of mayne! This signe schalle bere witnesse Vnto all pepull playne, Howe Goddes sone here gilteles Is putte to pereles payne. Miles 1 Saie, wherto bide yoe here aboute? Thare quenys with ther skymeryng and ther schoute Wille noght ther stevenis steere. Miles 2 Go home casbalde, with thi clowte, Or be that lorde we loue and loute, THou schall abye full dere. Maria 3 This signe schall vengeaunce calle On yowe holly in feere. Miles 3 Go, hye the hense withalle, Or ille hayle come thou here. John Lady, youre gretyng greues me sore. Mary John, helpe me nowe and eueremore, That I myght come hym tille. John My lady, wende we forthe before, To Caluery when yoe come thore THan schall yoe saie what yoe will. Miles 1 What a deuyll is this to saye, How longe schall we stande stille? Go, hye you hens awaye, In the deuylis name, doune the hill. Miles 2 Ther quenes vs comeres with ther clakke. He schall be serued for ther sake, With sorowe and with sore. Miles 3 And thei come more such noyse to make, We schall garre lygge thame in the lake Yf thei were halfe a skore. Miles 1 Latis nowe such bourdyng be. Sen oure tooles are before, THis traitoure and this tree Wolde I full fayne were thore. Miles 2 We schall no more so stille be stedde, For nowe ther quenes are fro vs fledde THat falsely wolde vs feere. Miles 3 Methynkith this boy is so forbledde With this ladde may he noght be ledde; He swounes, that dare I swere. Miles 1 It nedis noyot harde to harle Sen it dose hym slike dere. Miles 2 I se here comes a karle Shall helpe hym for to bere. Miles 3 THat schall yoe see sone one assaye. Goode man, whedir is thou away? THou walkis as thou were wrothe. Simon Sir, I haue a grete journay THat bus be done this same day, Or ellis it may do skathe. Miles 1 THou may with litill payne Eease thyselffe and vs bathe. Simon Goode sirs, that wolde I fayne, But to dwelle were me lathe. Miles 2 Nay beuscher, thou schall sone be spedde, Loo here a ladde that muste be ledde For his ille dedis to dye. Miles 3 And he is brosid and all forbledde, That makis vs here thus stille be stedde. We pray the sir, forthy, That thou wilte take this tree And bere it to Caluerye. Simon Goode sirs, that may nouyot be, For full grete haste haue I. My wayes are lang and wyde, And I may noght abide For drede I come to late, For sureté haue I hight Muste be fulfillid this nyght, Or it will paire my state. Therfore sirs, by youre leue, Methynkith I dwelle full lang. Me were loth you for to greue- Goode sirs, yoe late me gang, No lenger here now may I wone. Miles 1 Nay, certis, thou schalte noyot go so sone For ought that thou can saye. THis dede is moste haste to be done, For this boy muste be dede by none And nowe is nere myddaye. Go helpe hym in this nede And make no more delaye. Simon I praye yowe dose youre dede And latis me wende my waye, And sirs, I schall come sone agayne To helpe this man with all my mayne, And even at youre awne will. Miles 2 What, wolde thou trusse with such a trayne? Nay faitour, thou schalte be fayne THis forwarde to fullfille, Or be myghty Mahounde THou schalte rewe it full ille. Miles 3 Late dyng this dastarde doune But he goo tyte thertill. Simon Sertis sir, that wer nought wisely wrought To bete me but I trespassid ought, Outhir in worde or dede. Miles 1 Vppon his bakke it schall be brought To bere it, whedir he wille or noght- What, deuyll, whome schulde we drede? Go, take it vppe belyve And bere it forthe goode spede. Simon It helpis noyot here to striue, Bere it behoues me nede, And therfore sirs, as yoe haue saide, To bere this crosse I holde me paied Right as yoe wolde it wore. Miles 2 YOaa, nowe are we right arraied. Loke that oure gere be redy grayed To wirke whanne we come thore. Miles 3 I warand all redy, Oure tooles bothe lesse and more. Late hym goo hardely Forthe with the crosse before. Miles 1 Sen he has his lade nowe late hym gang, For with this warlowe wirke we wrang And we thus with hym yode. Miles 2 And nowe is noght goode to tarie lang, What schulde we done more vs emang? Say sone, so motte thou spede. Miles 3 Neuen vs no nodir noote Tille we haue done this dede. Miles 1 Weme, methynke we doote, He muste be naked, nede. All yf he called hymselffe a kyng In his clothis he schall noyot hyng, But naked as a stone be stedde. Miles 2 That calle I accordand thyng- But tille his sidis I trowe thei clyng For bloode that he has bledde. Miles 3 Wheder thei clynge or cleue Naked he schalle be ledde, And for the more myscheue Buffettis hym schall be bedde. Miles 1 Take of his clothis beliffe, latte see- A ha, this garment will falle wele for mee And so I hope it schall. Miles 2 Nay sir, so may it noght be, THame muste be parte amonge vs thre, Take euen as will fall. Miles 3 YOaa, and sir Pilate melle hym Youre parte woll be but small. Miles 1 Sir, and yoe liste go telle hym, YOitt schall he noght haue all, Butte even his awne parte and no more. Miles 2 YOaa, late thame ligge stille here in stoore Vntill this dede be done. Miles 3 Latte bynde hym as he was before And harle on harde that he wer thore, And hanged or it be none. Miles 1 He schall be feste as fee, And that right sore and sone. Miles 2 So fallis hym for to be, He gettis no bettir bone. Miles 3 THis werke is wele nowe I warand, For he is boune as beeste in bande That is demed for to dye. Miles 1 THanne rede I that we no lenger stande, But ilke man feste on hym a hande And harle hym hense in hye. Miles 2 YOaa, nowe is tyme to trusse To alle oure companye. Miles 3 If anye aske aftir vs, Kenne thame to Caluarie. Play 35Miles 1 Sir knyghtis, take heede hydir in hye, This dede on dergh we may noght drawe. YOee wootte youreselffe als wele as I Howe lordis and leders of owre lawe Has geven dome that this doote schall dye. Miles 2 Sir, alle thare counsaile wele we knawe. Sen we are comen to Caluarie Latte ilke man helpe nowe as hym awe. Miles 3 We are alle redy, loo, THat forward to fulfille. Miles 4 Late here howe we schall doo, And go we tyte thertille. Miles 1 It may noyot helpe her for to hone If we schall any worshippe wynne. Miles 2 He muste be dede nedelyngis by none. Miles 3 THanne is goode tyme that we begynne. Miles 4 Late dynge hym doune, than is he done- He schall nought dere vs with his dynne. Miles 1 He schall be sette and lerned sone, With care to hym and all his kynne. Miles 2 THe foulest dede of all Shalle he dye for his dedis. Miles 3 That menes crosse hym we schall. Miles 4 Behalde, so right he redis. Miles 1 Thanne to this werke vs muste take heede, So that oure wirkyng be noght wronge. Miles 2 None othir noote to neven is nede, But latte vs haste hym for to hange. Miles 3 And I haue gone for gere goode speede, Bothe hammeres and nayles large and lange. Miles 4 THanne may we boldely do this dede. Commes on, late kille this traitoure strange. Miles 1 Faire myght yoe falle in feere THat has wrought on this wise. Miles 2 Vs nedis nought for to lere Suche faitoures to chastise. Miles 3 Sen ilke a thyng es right arrayed, The wiselier nowe wirke may we. Miles 4 THe crosse on grounde is goodely graied And boorede even as it awith to be. Miles 1 Lokis that the ladde on lenghe be layde And made me thane vnto this tree. Miles 2 For alle his fare he schalle be flaied, That one assaie sone schalle ye see. Miles 3 Come forthe thou cursed knave, Thy comforte sone schall kele. Miles 4 Thyne hyre here schall thou haue. Miles 1 Walkes oon-now wirke we wele. Jesus Almyghty God, my fadir free, Late this materes be made in mynde: THou badde that I schulde buxsome be For Adam plyght for to be pyned. Here to dede I obblisshe me Fro that synne for to saue mankynde, And soueraynely beseke I the That thai for me may fauoure fynde. And fro the fende thame fende, So that ther saules be saffe In welthe withouten ende- I kepe nought ellis to craue. Miles 1 We, herke sir knyghtis, for Mahoundis bloode, Of Adam-kynde is all his thoght. Miles 2 THe warlowe waxis werre than woode, THis doulfull dede ne dredith he noght. Miles 3 THou schulde haue mynde, with mayne and moode, Of wikkid werkis that thou haste wrought. Miles 4 I hope that he hadde bene as goode Haue sesed of sawes that he vppe-sought. Miles 1 Thoo sawes schall rewe hym sore For all his saunteryng sone. Miles 2 Ille spede thame that hym spare Tille he to dede be done. Miles 3 Haue done belyue boy, and make the boune, And bende thi bakke vnto this tree. Miles 4 Byhalde, hymselffe has laide hym doune In lenghe and breede as he schulde bee. Miles 1 This traitoure here teynted of treasoune, Gose faste and fetter hym than yoe thre; And sen he claymeth kyngdome with croune, Even as a kyng here hange schall hee. Miles 2 Nowe, certis, I schall noyot fyne Or his right hande be feste. Miles 3 THe lefte hande thanne is myne- Late see who beres hym beste. Miles 4 Hys lymmys on lenghe than schalle I lede, And even vnto the bore thame bringe. Miles 1 Vnto his heede I schall take hede, And with myne hande helpe hym to hyng. Miles 2 Nowe sen we foure schall do this dede And medill with this vnthrifty thyng, Late no man spare for speciall speede Tille that we haue made endyng. Miles 3 THis forward may not faile; Nowe are we right arraiede. Miles 4 This boy here in oure baile Shall bide full bittir brayde. Miles 1 Sir knyghtis, saie, howe wirke we nowe? Miles 2 YOis, certis, I hope I holde this hande, And to the boore I haue it brought Full boxumly withouten bande. Miles 1 Strike on than harde, for hym the boght. Miles 2 YOis, here is a stubbe will stiffely stande, Thurgh bones and senous it schall be soght- This werke is wele, I will warande. Miles 1 Saie sir, howe do we thore? THis bargayne may not blynne. Miles 3 It failis a foote and more, THe senous are so gone ynne. Miles 4 I hope that marke amisse be bored. Miles 2 THan muste he bide in bittir bale. Miles 3 In faith, it was ouere-skantely scored, THat makis it fouly for to faile. Miles 1 Why carpe yoe so? Faste on a corde And tugge hym to, by toppe and taile. Miles 3 YOa, thou comaundis lightly as a lorde; Come helpe to haale, with ille haile. Miles 1 Nowe certis that schall I doo- Full snelly as a snayle Miles 3 And I schall tacche hym too, Full nemely with a nayle. THis werke will holde, that dar I heete, For nowe are feste faste both his hende. Miles 4 Go we all foure thanne to his feete, So schall oure space be spedely spende. Miles 2 Latte see what bourde his bale myght beete, Tharto my bakke nowe wolde I bende. Miles 4 Owe, this werke is all vnmeete- This boring muste all be amende. Miles 1 A, pees man, for Mahounde, Latte no man wotte that wondir, A roope schall rugge hym doune Yf all his synnous go asoundre. Miles 2 THat corde full kyndely can I knytte, THe comforte of this karle to kele. Miles 1 Feste on thanne faste that all be fytte, It is no force howe felle he feele. Miles 2 Lugge on yoe both a litill yoitt. Miles 3 I schalle nought sese, as I haue seele. Miles 4 And I schall fonde hym for to hitte. Miles 2 Owe, haylle! Miles 4 Hoo nowe, I halde it wele. Miles 1 Haue done, dryue in that nayle, So that no faute be foune. Miles 4 THis wirkyng wolde noyot faile Yf foure bullis here were boune. Miles 1 Ther cordis haue evill encressed his paynes, Or he wer tille the booryngis brought. Miles 2 YOaa, assoundir are bothe synnous and veynis On ilke a side, so haue we soughte. Miles 3 Nowe all his gaudis nothyng hym gaynes, His sauntering schall with bale be bought. Miles 4 I wille goo saie to oure soueraynes Of all this werkis howe we haue wrought. Miles 1 Nay sirs, anothir thyng Fallis firste to youe and me, THei badde we schulde hym hyng On heghte that men myght see. Miles 2 We woote wele so ther wordes wore, But sir, that dede will do vs dere. Miles 1 It may not mende for to moote more, THis harlotte muste be hanged here. Miles 2 The mortaise is made fitte therfore. Miles 3 Feste on youre fyngeres than, in feere. Miles 4 I wene it wolle neuere come thore- We foure rayse it noyot right to-yere. Miles 1 Say man, whi carpis thou soo? Thy liftyng was but light. Miles 2 He menes ther muste be moo To heve hym vppe on hight. Miles 3 Now certis, I hope it schall noght nede To calle to vs more companye. Methynke we foure schulde do this dede And bere hym to yoone hille on high. Miles 1 It muste be done, withouten drede. No more, but loke yoe be redy, And this parte schalle I lifte and leede; On lenghe he schalle no lenger lie. Therfore nowe makis you boune, Late bere hym to yoone hill. Miles 4 Thanne will I bere here doune, And tente his tase vntill. Miles 2 We twoo schall see tille aythir side, For ellis this werke wille wrie all wrang. Miles 3 We are redy. Miles 4 Gode sirs, abide, And late me first his fete vp fang. Miles 2 Why tente yoe so to tales this tyde? Miles 1 Lifte vppe! Miles 4 Latte see! Miles 2 Owe, lifte alang. Miles 3 Fro all this harme he schulde hym hyde And he war God. Miles 4 THe deuill hym hang! Miles 1 For-grete harme haue I hente, My schuldir is in soundre. Miles 2 And sertis I am nere schente, So lange haue I borne vndir. Miles 3 This crosse and I in twoo muste twynne, Ellis brekis my bakke in sondre sone. Miles 4 Laye downe agayne and leue youre dynne, THis dede for vs will neuere be done. Miles 1 Assaie sirs, latte se yf any gynne May helpe hym vppe withouten hone, For here schulde wight men worschippe wynne, And noght with gaudis al day to gone. Miles 2 More wighter men than we Full fewe I hope yoe fynde. Miles 3 THis bargayne will noght bee, For certis me wantis wynde. Miles 4 So wille of werke neuere we wore- I hope this carle some cautellis caste. Miles 2 My bourdeyne satte me wondir soore, Vnto the hill I myght noght laste. Miles 1 Lifte vppe, and sone he schall be thore, Therfore feste on youre fyngeres faste. Miles 3 Owe, lifte! Miles 1 We, loo! Miles 4 A litill more. Miles 2 Holde thanne! Miles 1 Howe nowe? Miles 2 THe werste is paste. Miles 3 He weyes a wikkid weght. Miles 2 So may we all foure saie, Or he was heued on heght And raysed in this array. Miles 4 He made vs stande as any stones, So boustous was he for to bere. Miles 1 Nowe raise hym nemely for the nonys And sette hym be this mortas heere, And latte hym falle in alle at ones, For certis that payne schall haue no pere. Miles 3 Heue vppe! Miles 4 Latte doune, so all his bones Are asoundre nowe on sides seere. Miles 1 THis fallyng was more felle THan all the harmes he hadde. Nowe may a man wele telle THe leste lith of this ladde. Miles 3 Methynkith this crosse will noght abide Ne stande stille in this morteyse yoitt. Miles 4 Att the firste tyme was it made ouere-wyde; THat makis it wave, thou may wele witte. Miles 1 Itt schall be sette on ilke a side So that it schall no forther flitte. Goode wegges schall we take this tyde And feste the foote, thanne is all fitte. Miles 2 Here are wegges arraied For that, both grete and smale. Miles 3 Where are oure hameres laide THat we schulde wirke withall? Miles 4 We haue them here euen atte oure hande. Miles 2 Gyffe me this wegge, I schall it in dryue. Miles 4 Here is anodir yoitt ordande. Miles 3 Do take it me hidir belyue. Miles 1 Laye on thanne faste. Miles 3 YOis, I warrande. I thryng thame same, so motte I thryve. Nowe will this crosse full stabely stande, All-yf he raue thei will noght ryve. Miles 1 Say sir, howe likis you nowe, THis werke that we haue wrought? Miles 4 We praye youe sais vs howe YOe fele, or faynte yoe ought. Jesus Al men that walkis by waye or strete, Takes tente yoe schalle no trauayle tyne. Byholdes myn heede, myn handis, and my feete, And fully feele nowe, or yoe fyne, Yf any mournyng may be meete, Or myscheue mesured vnto myne. My fadir, that alle bales may bete, Forgiffis thes men that dois me pyne. What thei wirke wotte thai noght; Therfore, my fadir, I craue, Latte neuere ther synnys be sought, But see ther saules to saue. Miles 1 We, harke, he jangelis like a jay. Miles 2 Methynke he patris like a py. Miles 3 He has ben doand all this day, And made grete meuyng of mercy. Miles 4 Es this the same that gune vs say That he was Goddis sone almyghty? Miles 1 Therfore he felis full felle affraye, And demyd this day for to dye. Miles 2 Vath, qui destruis templum! Miles 3 His sawes wer so, certayne. Miles 4 And sirs, he saide to some He myght rayse it agayne. Miles 1 To mustir that he hadde no myght, For all the kautelles that he couthe kaste. All-yf he wer in worde so wight, For all his force nowe he is feste. Als Pilate demed is done and dight, Therfore I rede that we go reste. Miles 2 THis race mon be rehersed right, Thurgh the worlde both este and weste. Miles 3 YOaa, late hym hynge here stille And make mowes on the mone. Miles 4 THanne may we wende at wille. Miles 1 Nay goode sirs, noght so sone, For certis vs nedis anodir note: THis kirtill wolde I of you craue. Miles 2 Nay, nay sir, we will loke be lotte Whilke of vs foure fallis it to haue. Miles 3 I rede we drawe cutte for this coote- Loo, se howe sone-alle sidis to saue. Miles 4 The schorte cutte schall wynne, that wele yoe woote, Whedir itt falle to knyght or knave. Miles 1 Felowes, yoe thar noght flyte, For this mantell is myne. Miles 2 Goo we thanne hense tyte, THis trauayle here we tyne &c. Play 36Pilate Sees, seniours, and see what I saie, Takis tente to my talkyng enteere. Devoyde all this dynne here this day, And fallis to my frenschippe in feere. Sir Pilate, a prince withowten pere, My name is full neuenly to neuen, And domisman full derworth in dere Of gentillest Jewry full euen Am I. Who makis oppressioun Or dose transgressioun, Be my discressioun Shall be demed dewly to dy. To dye schall I deme thame, to dede, THo rebelles that rewles thame vnright. Who that to yoone hill wille take heede May se ther the soth in his sight, Howe doulfull to dede thei are dight That liste noyot owre lawes for to lere. Lo, thus be my mayne and my myght Tho churles schalle I chasteise and cheere, Be lawe. Ilke feloune false Shall hynge be the halse. Transgressours als On the crosse schalle be knytte for to knawe. To knawe schall I knytte thame on crosse, To schende thame with schame schall I shappe. Ther liffis for to leese is no losse, Suche tirrauntis with teene for to trappe. THus leelly the lawe I vnlappe And punyssh thame pitously. Of Jesu I holde it vnhappe THat he on yone hill hyng so hye For gilte. His bloode to spille Toke ye you tille, THus was youre wille Full spitously to spede he were spilte. Caiphas To spille hym we spake in a speede, For falsed he folowde in faie. With fraudes oure folke gan he feede And laboured to lere thame his laye. Anna Sir Pilate, of pees we youe praye- Oure lawe was full lyke to be lorne. He saued noyot oure dere Sabott daye, And that-for to scape it-were a scorne, By lawe. Pilate Sirs, before youre sight, With all my myght I examynde hym right, And cause non in hym cowthe I knawe. Caiphas YOe knawe wele the cause sir, in cace; It touched treasoune vntrewe. THe tribute to take or to trace Forbadde he, oure bale for to brewe. Anna Of japes yoitt jangelid yone Jewe, And cursedly he called hym a kyng. To deme hym to dede it is diewe, For treasoune it touches, that thyng, Indede. Caiphas YOitt principall, And worste of all, He garte hym call Goddes sonne-that foulle motte hyme speede. Pilate He spedis for to spille in space, So wondirly wrought is youre will. His bloode schall youre bodis enbrace, For that haue yoe taken you till. Anna THat forwarde ful fayne to fulfille Indede schall we dresse vs bedene. YOone losell hym likis full ille, For turned is his trantis all to teene, I trowe. Caiphas He called hym kyng, Ille joie hym wring. YOa, late hym hyng Full madly on the mone for to mowe. Anna To mowe on the moone has he mente. We, fye on the, faitour, in faye! Who, trowes thou, to thi tales toke tente? THou saggard, thiselffe gan thou saie, THe tempill distroie the todaye, Be the thirde day ware done ilka dele To rayse it thou schulde the arraye. Loo, howe was thi falsed to feele, Foule falle the. For thy presumpcyoune THou haste thy warisoune. Do faste come doune, And a comely kyng schalle I calle thee. Caiphas I calle the a coward to kenne, THat meruaylles and mirakills made. THou mustered emange many menne; But, brothell, thou bourded to brade. THou saued thame fro sorowes, thai saide- To saue nowe thiselffe late vs see. God sonne if thou grathely be grayde, Delyuere the doune of that tree Anone. If thou be funne To be Goddis sonne, We schalle be bonne To trowe on the trewlye ilkone. Anna Sir Pilate, youre pleasaunce we praye, Takis tente to oure talkyng this tide, And wipe yoe yone writyng away, It is not beste it abide. It sittis youe to sette it aside And sette that he saide in his sawe, As he that was prente full of pride: `Jewes kyng am I', comely to knawe, Full playne. Pilate Quod scripci, scripci. YOone same wrotte I; I bide therby, What gedlyng will grucche thereagayne. Jesus THou man that of mys here has mente, To me tente enteerly thou take. On roode am I ragged and rente, THou synfull sawle, for thy sake; For thy misse amendis wille I make. My bakke for to bende here I bide, THis teene for thi trespase I take. Who couthe the more kyndynes haue kydde Than I? THus for thy goode I schedde my bloode. Manne, mende thy moode, For full bittir thi blisse mon I by. Mary Allas for my swete sonne I saie, THat doulfully to dede thus is diyot. Allas, for full louely he laye In my wombe, this worthely wight. Allas that I schulde see this sight Of my sone so semely to see. Allas, that this blossome so bright Vntrewly is tugged to this tree. Allas, My lorde, my leyffe, With full grete greffe Hyngis as a theffe. Allas, he did neuer trespasse. Jesus THou woman, do way of thy wepyng, For me may thou nothyng amende. My fadirs wille to be wirkyng, For mankynde my body I bende. Mary Allas, that thou likes noght to lende, Howe schulde I but wepe for thy woo? To care nowe my comforte is kende. Allas, why schulde we twynne thus in twoo Foreuere? Jesus Womanne, instede of me, Loo, John thi sone schall bee. John, see to thi modir free, For my sake do thou thi deuere. Mary Allas sone, sorowe and siyote, THat me were closed in clay. A swerde of sorowe me smyte, To dede I were done this day. John A, modir, so schall yoe noght saie. I praye youe be pees in this presse, For with all the myght that I maye Youre comforte I caste to encresse, Indede. Youre sone am I, Loo, here redy; And nowe forthy I praye yowe hense for to speede. Mary My steuen for to stede or to steere, Howe schulde I, such sorowe to see, My sone that is dereworthy and dere Thus doulfull a dede for to dye? John A, dere modir, blynne of this blee, Youre mournyng it may not amende. Mary Cleophas A, Marie, take triste vnto the, For socoure to the will he sende THis tyde. John Fayre modir, faste Hense latte vs caste. Mary To he be paste Wille I buske here baynly to bide. Jesus With bittirfull bale haue I bought, THus, man, all thi misse for te mende. On me for to looke lette thou noyot, Howe baynly my body I bende. No wighte in this worlde wolde haue wende What sorowe I suffre for thy sake. Manne, kaste the thy kyndynesse be kende, Trewe tente vnto me that thou take, And treste. For foxis ther dennys haue thei, Birdis hase ther nestis to paye, But the sone of man this daye Hase noyot on his heed for to reste. Latro Sinister If thou be Goddis sone so free, Why hyng thou thus on this hille? To saffe nowe thyselffe late vs see, And vs now, that spedis for to spille. Latro Dexter Manne, stynte of thy steuen and be stille, For douteles thy God dredis thou noyot. Full wele are we worthy thertill, Vnwisely wrange haue we wrought, Iwisse. Noon ille did hee THus for to dye. Lord, haue mynde of me Whan thou art come to thi blisse. Jesus Forsothe sonne, to the schall I saie, Sen thou fro thy foly will falle, Sen thou fro thy foly will falle, With me schall dwelle nowe this daye, In paradise place principall. Heloy, heloy! My God, my God full free, Lama zabatanye, Wharto forsoke thou me In care? And I did neuere ille THis dede for to go tille, But be it at thi wille. A, me thristis sare. Garcio A drinke schalle I dresse the, indede, A draughte that is full dayntely dight. Full faste schall I springe for to spede, I hope I schall holde that I haue hight. Caiphas Sir Pilate that moste is of myght, Harke, `Heely' now harde I hym crye. He wenys that that worthely wight In haste for to helpe hym in hye In his nede. Pilate If he do soo He schall haue woo. Anna He wer oure foo If he dresse hym to do vs that dede. Garcio THat dede for to dresse yf he doo, In sertis he schall rewe it full sore. Neuerethelees, if he like it noght, loo, Full sone may he couere that care. Now swete sir, youre wille yf it ware, A draughte here of drinke haue I dreste, To spede for no spence that yoe spare, But baldely ye bib it for the beste. For-why Aysell and galle Is menged withalle; Drynke it yoe schalle- Youre lippis I halde thame fulle drye. Jesus THi drinke it schalle do me no deere, Wete thou wele, therof will I none. Nowe fadir, that formed alle in fere, To thy moste myght make I my mone: THi wille haue I wrought in this wone, THus ragged and rente on this roode, THus doulffully to dede haue thei done. Forgiffe thame be grace that is goode, THai ne wote noyot what it was. My fadir, here my bone, For nowe all thyng is done. My spirite to thee right sone Comende I, in manus tuas. Mary Now dere sone, Jesus so jente, Sen my harte is heuy as leede, O worde wolde I witte or thou wente. Allas, nowe my dere sone is dede, Full rewfully refte is my rede. Allas for my darlyng so dere. John A, modir, yoe halde vppe youre heede, And sigh noyot with sorowes so seere I praye. Mary Cleophas It dose hir pyne To see hym tyne. Lede we her heyne, THis mornyng helpe hir ne maye. Caiphas Sir Pilate, parceyue I you praye, Oure costemes to kepe wele yoe canne. Tomorne is oure dere Sabott daye, Of mirthe muste vs meve ilke a man. YOone warlous nowe waxis full wan And nedis muste thei beried be. Delyuer ther dede sir, and thane Shall we sewe to oure saide solempnité Indede. Pilate It schalle be done In wordis fone. Sir knyghtis, go sone, To yoone harlottis you hendely take heede. THo caytiffis thou kille with thi knyffe- Delyuere, haue done thei were dede. Miles Mi lorde, I schall lenghe so ther liffe THat tho brothelles schall neuere bite brede. Pilate Ser Longeus, steppe forthe in this steede; THis spere, loo, haue halde in thy hande. To Jesus thou rake fourthe I rede, And sted nouyot, but stiffely thou stande A stounde. In Jesu side Schoffe it this tyde. No lenger bide, But grathely thou go to the grounde. Longeus Latus O maker vnmade, full of myght, O Jesu so jentill and jente THat sodenly has sente me my sight, Lorde, louyng to the be it lente. On rode arte thou ragged and rente, Mankynde for to mende of his mys. Full spitously spilte is and spente Thi bloode, lorde, to bringe vs to blis Full free. A, mercy my socoure, Mercy, my treasoure, Mercy, my sauioure, THi mercy be markid in me. Centurio O wondirfull werkar iwis, THis weedir is waxen full wan. Trewe token I trowe that it is THat mercy is mente vnto man. Full clerly consayue thus I can No cause in this corse couthe thei knowe, YOitt doulfull thei demyd hym than To lose thus his liffe be ther lawe, No riyote. Trewly I saie, Goddis sone verraye Was he this daye, THat doulfully to dede thus is diyot. Joseph THat lorde lele ay-lastyng in lande, Sir Pilate, full preste in this presse, He saue the be see and be sande, And all that is derworth on deesse. Pilate Joseph, this is lely, no lesse, To me arte thou welcome iwisse. Do saie me the soth or thou sesse, Thy worthyly wille what it is Anone. Joseph To the I praye, Giffe me in hye Jesu bodye, In gree it for to graue al alone. Pilate Joseph sir, I graunte the that geste, I grucche noyot to grath hym in grave. Delyuer, haue done he were dreste, And sewe, sir, oure Sabott to saffe. Joseph With handis and harte that I haue I thanke the in faith for my frende. God kepe the thi comforte to craue, For wightely my way will I wende In hye. To do that dede He be my speede THat armys gun sprede, Mannekynde be his bloode for to bye. Nicodemus Weill mette, ser. In mynde gune I meffe For Jesu that juged was vnjente. Ye laboured for license and leve To berye his body on bente? Joseph Full myldely that matere I mente, And that for to do will I dresse. Nicodemus Both same I wolde that we wente And lette not for more ne for lesse, For-why Oure frende was he, Faithfull and free. Joseph THerfore go we To berie that body in hye. All mankynde may marke in his mynde To see here this sorowfull sight. No falsnesse in hym couthe thei fynde THat doulfully to dede thus is dight. Nicodemus He was a full worthy wight, Nowe blemysght and bolned with bloode. Joseph YOa, for that he mustered his myght, Full falsely thei fellid that foode I wyne. Bothe bakke and side Has woundes wide, Forthi this tyde Take we hym doune vs betwene. Nicodemus Betwene vs take we hym doune And laie hym on lenthe on this lande. Joseph THis reuerent and riche of rennoune, Late vs halde hym and halse hym with hande. A graue haue I garte here be ordande THat neuer was in noote, it is newe. Nicodemus To this corse it is comely accordande, To dresse hym with dedis full dewe THis stounde. Joseph A sudarye, Loo here, haue I. Wynde hym forthy, And sone schalle we graue hym in grounde. Nicodemus In grounde late vs graue hym and goo; Do liffely latte vs laie hym allone. Nowe sauiour be see and be sande, THou kepe vs in clennesse ilkone. Joseph To thy mercy nowe make I my moone: As sauiour be see and be sande, THou gyde me that my griffe be al gone, With lele liffe to lenge in this lande, And esse. Nicodemus Seere oynementis here haue I Brought for this faire body. I anoynte the forthy With myrre and aloes. Joseph THis dede it is done ilke a dele, And wroughte is this werke wele iwis. To the, kyng, on knes here I knele, THat baynly thou belde me in blisse. Nicodemus He highte me full hendely to be his A nyght whan I neghed hym full nere. Haue mynde lorde, and mende me of mys, For done is oure dedis full dere THis tyde. Joseph THis lorde so goode THat schedde his bloode, He mende youre moode, And buske on this blis for to bide. Play 37Jesus Manne on molde, be meke to me, And haue thy maker in thi mynde, And thynke howe I haue tholid for the With pereles paynes for to be pyned. The forward of my fadir free Haue I fulfillid, as folke may fynde, THerfore aboute nowe woll I bee THat I haue bought for to vnbynde. THe feende thame wanne with trayne Thurgh frewte of erthely foode; I haue thame getyn agayne Thurgh bying with my bloode. And so I schall that steede restore For whilke the feende fell for synne, THare schalle mankynde wonne euermore In blisse that schall neuere blynne. All that in werke my werkemen were, Owte of thare woo I wol thame wynne, And some signe schall I sende before Of grace, to garre ther gamys begynne. A light I woll thei haue To schewe thame I schall come sone. My bodie bidis in graue Tille alle thes dedis be done. My fadir ordand on this wise Aftir his will that I schulde wende, For to fulfille the prophicyes, And als I spake my solace to spende. My frendis that in me faith affies, Nowe fro ther fois I schall thame fende, And on the thirde day ryght vprise, And so tille heuen I schall assende. Sithen schall I come agayne To deme bothe goode and ill Tille endles joie or peyne; THus is my fadris will. Adam Mi bretheren, harkens to me here, Swilke hope of heele neuere are we hadde; Foure thowsande and sex hundereth yoere Haue we bene heere in this stedde. Nowe see I signe of solace seere, A glorious gleme to make vs gladde, Wherfore I hope oure helpe is nere And sone schall sesse oure sorowes sadde. Eue Adame, my husband hende, THis menys solas certayne. Such light gune on vs lende In paradise full playne. Isaiah Adame, we schall wele vndirstande- I, Ysaias, as God me kende, I prechid in Neptalym, that lande, And Zabulon, even vntill ende. I spake of folke in mirke walkand And saide a light schulde on thame lende. This lered I whils I was leuand, Nowe se I God this same hath sende. THis light comes all of Criste, THat seede to saue vs nowe. THus is my poynte puplisshid- But Symeon, what sais thou? Symeon THhis, my tale of farleis feele, For in the temple his frendis me fande. I hadde delite with hym to dele And halsed homely with my hande. I saide, `Lorde, late thy seruaunt lele Passe nowe in pesse to liffe lastand, For nowe myselfe has sene thy hele Me liste no lengar to liffe in landé. THis light thou hast purueyed To folkes that liffis in leede, THe same that I thame saide I see fulfillid in dede. John the Baptist Als voyce criand to folke I kende THe weyes of Criste als I wele kanne. I baptiste hym with bothe my hende Euen in the floode of flume Jordanne. THe holy goste fro heuene discende Als a white dowue doune on hym thanne; The fadir voice, my mirthe to mende, Was made to me euen als manne: `This is my soné, he saide, `In whome me paies full welé. His light is on vs laide, He comes oure cares to kele. Moyses Of that same light lernyng haue I: To me, Moyses, he mustered his myght, And also vnto anodir, Hely, Wher we were on an hille on hight. Whyte as snowe was his body, And his face like to the sonne to sight; No man on molde was so myghty Grathely to loke agaynste that light. THat same light se I nowe Shynyng on vs sarteyne, Wherfore trewly I trowe We schalle sone passe fro payne. Diabolus 1 Helpe, Belsabub, to bynde ther boyes- Such harrowe was neuer are herde in helle. Diabolus 2 Why rooris thou soo, Rebalde? THou royis- What is betidde, canne thou ought telle? Diabolus 1 What, heris thou noyot this vggely noyse? THes lurdans that in Lymbo dwelle, THei make menyng of many joies And musteres grete mirthe thame emell. Diabolus 2 Mirthe? Nay, nay, that poynte is paste, More hele schall thei neuer haue. Diabolus 1 THei crie on Criste full faste And sais he schal thame saue. Belsabub YOa, if he saue thame noght, we schall, For they are sperde in speciall space. Whils I am prince and principall Schall thei neuer passe oute of this place. Calle vppe Astrotte and Anaball To giffe ther counsaille in this case, Bele-Berit and Belial, To marre thame that swilke maistries mase. Say to Satan oure sire, And bidde thame bringe also Lucifer, louely of lyre. Diabolus 1 Al redy, lorde, I goo. Jesus Attollite portas, principes, Oppen vppe, yoe princes of paynes sere, Et eleuamini eternales, Youre yendles yoatis that yoe haue here. Satan What page is there that makes prees And callis hym kyng of vs in fere? David I lered leuand, withouten lees, He is a kyng of vertues clere, A lorde mekill of myght And stronge in ilke a stoure, In batailes ferse to fight And worthy to wynne honnoure. Satan Honnoure? In the deuel way! For what dede? All erthely men to me are thrall. THe lady that calles hym lorde in leede Hadde neuer yoitt herberowe, house, ne halle. Diabolus 1 Harke Belsabub, I haue grete drede, For hydously I herde hym calle. Belial We, spere oure yoates, all ill mot thou spede, And sette furthe watches on the wall- And if he calle or crie To make vs more debate, Lay on hym than hardely And garre hym gange his gate. Satan Telle me what boyes dare be so bolde For drede to make so mekill draye. Diabolus 1 Itt is the Jewe that Judas solde For to be dede this othir daye. Satan Owe, this tale in tyme is tolde, THis traytoure traueses vs alway. He schall be here full harde in holde, Loke that he passe noght, I the praye. Diabolus 2 Nay, nay, he will noyot wende Away or I be ware, He shappis hym for to schende Alle helle or he go ferre. Satan Nay faitour, therof schall he faile, For alle his fare I hym deffie. I knowe his trantis fro toppe to taile, He leuys with gaudis and with gilery. THerby he brought oute of oure bale Nowe late Lazar of Betannye; THerfore I gaffe to the Jewes counsaille THat thei schulde alway garre hym dye. I entered in Judas THat forwarde to fulfille, THerfore his hire he has Allway to wonne here stille. Belsabub Sir Sattanne, sen we here the saie THat thou and the Jewes wer same assente, And wotte he wanne Lazar awaye THat tille vs was tane for to tente, Trowe thou that thou marre hym maye, To mustir mightis what he has mente? If he nowe depriue vs of oure praye, We will yoe witte whanne thei are wente. Satan I bidde yoou be noyot abasshed, But boldely make youe boune With toles that yoe on traste, And dynge that dastard doune. Jesus Principes, portas tollite, Vndo youre yoatis, yoe princis of pryde, Et introibit rex glorie, THe kyng of blisse comes in this tyde. Satan Owte, harrowe! What harlot is hee THat sais his kyngdome schall be cryed? David THat may thou in my Sawter see, For that poynte I prophicied. I saide that he schuld breke Youre barres and bandis by name, And on youre werkis take wreke- Nowe schalle yoe see the same. Jesus THis steede schall stonde no lenger stoken: Opynne vppe, and latte my pepul passe. Diabolus 1 Owte! Beholdes, oure baill is brokynne, And brosten are alle oure bandis of bras- Telle Lucifer alle is vnlokynne. Belsabub What thanne, is Lymbus lorne? Allas, Garre Satan helpe that we wer wroken; THis werke is werse thanne euere it was. Satan I badde yoe schulde be boune If he made maistries more. Do dynge that dastard doune And sette hym sadde and sore. Belsabub YOa, sette hym sore-that is sone saide, But come thiselffe and serue hym soo. We may not bide his bittir braide, He wille vs marre and we wer moo. Satan What, faitours, wherfore are yoe flayd? Haue yoe no force to flitte hym froo? Belyue loke that my gere be grathed, Miselffe schall to that gedlyng goo. Howe, belamy, abide, With al thy booste and bere, And telle to me this tyde What maistries makes thou here? Jesus I make no maistries but for myne, THame wolle I saue I telle the nowe. THou hadde no poure thame to pyne, But as my prisounes for ther prowe Here haue thei soiorned, noght as thyne, But in thy warde-thou wote wele howe. Satan And what deuel haste thou done ay syne THat neuer wolde negh thame nere or nowe? Jesus Nowe is the tyme certayne Mi fadir ordand before, THat they schulde passe fro payne And wonne in mirthe euer more. Satan Thy fadir knewe I wele be sight, He was a write his mette to wynne, And Marie me menys thi modir hight- THe vttiremeste ende of all thi kynne. Who made the be so mekill of myght? Jesus THou wikid feende, latte be thy dynne. Mi fadir wonnys in heuen on hight, With blisse that schall neuere blynne. I am his awne sone, His forward to fulfille, And same ay schall we wonne And sundir whan we wolle. Satan God sonne? THanne schulde thou be ful gladde, Aftir no catel neyd thowe crave! But thou has leued ay like a ladde, And in sorowe as a symple knave. Jesus THat was for hartely loue I hadde Vnto mannis soule, it for to saue; And for to make the mased and madde, And by that resoune thus dewly to haue Mi Godhede here, I hidde In Marie modir myne, For it schulde noyot be kidde To the nor to none of thyne. Satan A, this wolde I were tolde in ilke a toune. So, sen thou sais God is thy sire, I schall the proue be right resoune THou motes his men into the myre. To breke his bidding were thei boune, And, for they did at my desire, Fro paradise he putte thame doune In helle here to haue ther hyre. And thyselfe, day and nyght, Has taught al men emang To do resoune and right, And here werkis thou all wrang. Jesus I wirke noght wrang, that schal thow witte, If I my men fro woo will wynne. Mi prophetis playnly prechid it, All this note that nowe begynne. THai saide that I schulde be obitte, To helle that I schulde entre in, And saue my seruauntis fro that pitte Wher dampned saulis schall sitte for synne. And ilke trewe prophettis tale Muste be fulfillid in mee; I haue thame boughte with bale, And in blisse schal thei be. Satan Nowe sen the liste allegge the lawes, THou schalte be atteynted or we twynne, For tho that thou to wittenesse drawes Full even agaynste the will begynne. Salamon saide in his sawes THat whoso enteres helle withynne Shall neuer come oute, thus clerkis knawes- And therfore felowe, leue thi dynne. Job, thi seruaunte, also THus in his tyme gune telle THat nowthir frende nor foo Shulde fynde reles in helle. Jesus He saide full soth, that schall thou see, THat in helle may be no reles, But of that place than preched he Where synffull care schall euere encrees. And in that bale ay schall thou be Whare sorowes sere schall neuer sesse, And for my folke therfro wer free, Nowe schall thei passe to the place of pees. THai were here with my wille, And so schall thei fourthe wende, And thiselue schall fulfille THer wooe withouten ende. Satan Owe, thanne se I howe thou menys emang Some mesure with malice to melle, Sen thou sais all schall noyot gang, But some schalle alway with vs dwelle. Jesus YOaa, witte thou wele, ellis were it wrang, Als cursed Cayme that slewe Abell, And all that hastis hemselue to hange, Als Judas and Archedefell, Datan and Abiron, And alle of thare assente, Als tyrantis euerilkone THat me and myne turmente. And all that liste noght to lere my lawe THat I haue lefte in lande nowe newe- THat is my comyng for to knawe, And to my sacramente pursewe, Mi dede, my rysing, rede be rawe- Who will noght trowe, thei are noght trewe. Vnto my dome I schall thame drawe, And juge thame worse thanne any Jewe. And all that likis to leere My lawe and leue therbye, Shall neuere haue harmes heere, But welthe, as is worthy. Satan Nowe here my hande, I halde me paied, THis poynte is playnly for oure prowe. If this be soth that thou hast saide We schall haue moo thanne we haue nowe. THis lawe that thou nowe late has laide I schall lere men noyot to allowe; Iff thei it take thei be betraied, For I schall turne thame tyte, I trowe. I schall walke este and weste, And garre thame werke wele werre. Jesus Naye, feende, thou schall be feste, THat thou schalte flitte not ferre. Satan Feste? THat were a foule reasoune- Nay bellamy, thou bus be smytte. Jesus Mighill myne aungell, make the boune And feste yone fende that he noght flitte. And, Deuyll, I comaunde the go doune Into thy selle where thou schalte sitte. Satan Owt! Ay herrowe! Helpe, Mahounde! Nowe wex I woode oute of my witte. Belsabub Sattan, this saide we are, Nowe schall thou fele thi fitte. Satan Allas for dole and care, I synke into helle pitte. Adam A, Jesu, lorde, mekill is thi myght, That mekis thiselffe in this manere, Vs for to helpe as thou has hight, Whanne both forfette, I and my feere. Here haue we leuyd withouten light Four thousand and vi c yoere; Now se I be this solempne sight Howe thy mercy hath made vs clere. Eue A, lorde, we were worthy Mo turmentis for to taste, But mende vs with mercye Als thou of myght is moste. John the Baptist A, lorde, I loue the inwardly, That me wolde make thi messengere Thy comyng in erth for to crye, And teche thi faith to folke in feere; And sithen before the for to dye And bringe boodworde to thame here, How thai schulde haue thyne helpe in hye. Nowe se I all thi poyntis appere Als Dauid, prophete trewe, Ofte tymes tolde vntill vs; Of this comyng he knewe, And saide it schulde be thus. David Als I haue saide, yoitt saie I soo, Ne derelinquas, domine, Animam meam in inferno, Leffe noght my saule, lorde, aftir the In depe helle where dampned schall goo; Ne suffre neuere saules fro the be, The sorowe of thame that wonnes in woo Ay full of filthe, that may repleye. Adam We thanke his grete goodnesse He fette vs fro this place. Makes joie nowe, more and lesse. Omnis We laude God of his grace. Jesus Adame, and my frendis in feere, Fro all youre fooes come fourth with me. YOe schalle be sette in solas seere Wher yoe schall neuere of sorowes see. And Mighill, myn aungell clere, Ressayue thes saules all vnto the And lede thame als I schall the lere, To paradise with playe and plenté. Mi graue I woll go till, Redy to rise vpperight, And so I schall fulfille That I before haue highte. Michill Lorde, wende we schall aftir thi sawe, To solace sere thai schall be sende. But that ther deuelis no draught vs drawe Lorde, blisse vs with thi holy hende. Jesus Mi blissing haue yoe all on rawe, I schall be with youe wher yoe wende, And all that lelly luffes my lawe, THai schall be blissid withowten ende. Adam To the, lorde, be louyng, THat vs has wonne fro waa. For solas will we syng Laus tibi cum gloria etc. Play 38Pilate Lordingis, listenys nowe vnto me: I comaunde yoou in ilke degré Als domesman chiffe in this contré, For counsaill kende, Atte my bidding yoou awe to be And baynly bende. And sir Cayphas, chiffe of clergye, Of youre counsaill late here in hye. By youre assente sen we dyd dye Jhesus this day, THat yoe mayntayne, and stande therby THat werke allway. Caiphas YOis sir, that dede schall we mayntayne, By lawe it was done all bedene, YOe wotte youreselue withouten wene Als wele as we. His sawes are nowe vppon hym sene And ay schall be. Anna THe pepull, sir, in this same steede, Before yoou saide with a hole-hede THat he was worthy to be dede, And therto sware. Sen all was rewlid by rightis rede Nevyn it no more. Pilate To neuyn methinketh it nedfull thyng. Sen he was hadde to beriyng Herde we nowthir of olde ne yoing Thithynges betwene. Caiphas Centurio, sir, will bringe thiding Of all bedene. We lefte hym there for man moste wise, If any rebelles wolde ought rise Oure rightwise dome for to dispise Or it offende, To sese thame till the nexte assise And than make ende. Centurio A, blissid lorde Adonay, What may thes meruayles signifie THat her was schewed so oppinly Vnto oure sight, THis day whanne that the man gune dye THat Jesus highte? Itt is a misty thyng to mene, So selcouth a sight was neuere sene, THat oure princes and prestis bedene Of this affray I woll go weten withouten wene, What thei can saye. God saue yoou sirs on ilke a side, Worschippe and welthe in worldis wide; With mekill mirthe myght yoe abide Both day and nyght. Pilate Centurio, welcome this tide, Oure comely knyght. YOe haue bene miste vs here among. Centurio God giffe you grace grathely to gang. Pilate Centurio, oure frende full lang, What is your will? Centurio I drede me that yoe haue done wrang And wondir ill. Caiphas Wondir ill? I pray the, why? Declare it to this company. Centurio So schall I sirs telle yoou trewly Withowten trayne: THe rightwise mane thanne mene I by THat yoe haue slayne. Pilate Centurio, sesse of such sawe, THou arte a lered man in the lawe, And if we schulde any witnes drawe Vs to excuse, To mayntayne vs euermore the awe, And noyot reffuse. Centurio To mayntayne trouthe is wele worthi. I saide yoou whanne I sawe hym dy THat he was Goddis sone almyghty THat hangeth thore; YOitt saie I soo, and stande therby For euermore. Caiphas YOa sir, such reasouns may yoe rewe. YOe schulde noght neueyn such note enewe But yoe couthe any tokenyngis trewe Vnto vs tell. Centurio Such woundirfull cas neuere yoitt yoe knewe As now befell. Anna We praye the telle vs of what thyng. Centurio All elementis, both olde and yoing, In ther maneres thai made mornyng In ilke a stede, And knewe be countenaunce that ther kyng Was done to dede. THe sonne for woo he waxed all wanne, THe mone and sterres of schynyng blanne, THe erthe tremeled and also manne Began to speke; THe stones that neuer was stered or thanne Gune asondir breke, And dede men rose, both grete and small. Pilate Centurio, beware withall, YOe wote oure clerkis the clipsis thei call Such sodayne sight. Both sonne and mone that sesoune schall Lak of ther light. Caiphas YOa, and if dede men rose bodily THat myght be done thurgh socery, THerfore we sette nothyng therby To be abaiste. Centurio All that I tell for trewthe schall I Euermore traste. In this ilke werke that yoe did wirke Nought allone the sonne was mirke, But howe youre vaile raffe in youre kirke, That witte I wolde. Pilate Swilke tales full sone will make vs irke And thei be talde. Anna Centurio, such speche withdrawe, Of all thes wordes we haue none awe. Centurio Nowe sen yoe sette noght be my sawe Sirs, haue gode day. God graunte you grace that yoe may knawe THe soth alway. Anna Withdrawe the faste sen thou the dredis, For we schall wele mayntayne oure dedis. Pilate Such wondir reasouns as he redis Was neuere beforne. Caiphas To neven this noote no more vs nedis, Nowthere even ne morne. THerfore loke no manne make ille chere, All this doyng may do no dere. But to beware yoitt of more were THat folke may fele, We praye you sirs, of thes sawes sere Avise yoou wele. And to this tale takes hede in hye, For Jesu saide even opynly A thyng that greues all this Jury, And riyot so may: THat he schulde rise vppe bodily Within the thirde day. And be it so, als motte I spede, His lattar deede is more to drede THan is the firste if we take hede Or tente therto. To neuyn this noote methynke moste nede And beste to do. Anna YOa sir, if all that he saide soo, He has no myght to rise and goo But if his menne stele hym vs froo And bere away. THat were tille us and other moo A foule fraye, For thanne wolde thei saie euere-ilkone THat he roose by hymselffe allone. Therfore latte hym be kepte anone With knyghtes hende, Vnto thre daies be comen and gone And broght till ende. Pilate In certayne sirs right wele yoe saie, For this ilke poynte nowe to purvaye I schall ordayne if I may. He schall not ryse, Nor none schalle wynne hym thens away On nokyns wise. Sir knyghtis, that are in dedis dowty, Chosen for chiffe of cheualrye, As we ay in youre force affie Bothe day and nyght, Wendis and kepis Jesu body With all youre myghte. And for thyng that euere be maye Kepis hym wele to the thirde day, And latis no man take hym away Oute of that stede- For and thei do, suthly I saie YOe schall be dede. Miles 1 Lordingis, we saie yoou for certayne, We schall kepe hym with myghtis and mayne. THer schall no traitoures with no trayne Stele hym vs froo. Sir knyghtis, takis gere that moste may gayne And lates vs goo. Miles 2 YOis, certis, we are all redy bowne, We schall hym kepe till oure rennowne, On ilke a side latte vs sitte doune Nowe all in fere, And sone we schall crake his croune Whoso comes here. Maria 1 Allas, to dede I wolde be dight, So woo in werke was neuere wight, Mi sorowe is all for that sight THat I gune see, Howe Criste my maistir moste of myght Is dede fro me. Allas that I schulde se his pyne Or yit that I his liffe schulde tyne, Of ilke a myscheue he was medicyne And bote of all, Helpe and halde to ilke a hyne THat on hym wolde call. Maria 2 Allas, who schall my balis bete Whanne I thynke on his woundes wete. Jesu, that was of loue so swete And neuere did ill, Es dede and grauen vnder the grete, Withouten skill. Maria 3 Withowten skill the Jewes ilkone THat louely lorde has newly slayne, And trespasse did he neuere none In nokyn steede. To whome nowe schall I make my mone Sen he is dede? Maria 1 Sen he is dede my sisteres dere, Wende we will on mylde manere With oure anoynementis faire and clere THat we haue broght, To noynte his wondis on sides sere THat Jewes hym wroght. Maria 2 Goo we same my sisteres free, Full faire vs longis his corse to see. But I wotte noght howe beste may be, Helpe haue we none. And who schall nowe here of vs thre Remove the stone? Maria 3 THat do we noght but we wer moo, For it is huge and heuy also. Maria 1 Sisteris, a yoonge childe, as we goo Makand mornyng, I see it sitte wher we wende to, In white clothyng. Maria 2 Sistirs, sertis it is noght to hide, THe heuy stone is putte beside. Maria 3 Sertis, for thyng that may betyde Nere will we wende, To layte that luffely and with hym bide THat was oure frende. Angel YOe mournand women in youre thought, Here in this place whome haue yoe sought? Maria 1 Jesu, that to dede is brought, Oure lorde so free. Angel Women, certayne here is he noght, Come nere and see. He is noght here the soth to saie, THe place is voide that he in laye, THe sudary here se yoe may Was on hym laide. He is resen and wente his way, As he yoou saide. Euen as he saide so done has hee, He is resen thurgh grete poostee, He schall be foune in Galilé In flesshe and fell. To his discipilis nowe wende yoe And thus thame tell. Maria 1 Mi sisteres dere, sen it is soo THat he is resen dede thus froo, As the aungell tolde me and yow too- Oure lorde so fre- Hens will I neuer goo Or I hym see. Maria 2 Marie, vs thare no lenger lende, To Galilé nowe late vs wende. Maria 1 Nought tille I see that faithfull frende Mi lorde and leche, THerfore all this my sisteres hende, THat yoe forth preche. Maria 3 As we haue herde so schall we saie. Marie oure sistir, haue goode daye. Maria 1 Nowe verray God as he wele maye- Man most of myght- He wisse you, sisteres, wele in youre waye And rewle yoou right. Allas, what schall nowe worthe on me. Mi kaytiffe herte will breke in three Whenne I thynke on that body free, How it was spilte. Both feete and handes nayled tille a tre, Withouten gilte. Withouten gilte the trewe was tane, For trespas did he neuere none, THe woundes he suffered many one Was for my misse. It was my dede he was for slayne And nothyng his. How might I, but I loued that swete, THat for my loue tholed woundes wete And sithen be grauen vndir the grete, Such kyndnes kithe? THer is nothing to that we mete May make me blithe. Miles 1 What, oute allas, what schall I saie? Where is the corse that herein laye? Miles 2 What ayles the man? Is he awaye THat we schulde tent? Miles 1 Rise vppe and see. Miles 2 Harrowe, for ay I telle vs schente. Miles 3 What deuill is this, what aylis yoou twoo, Such noyse and crye thus for to make too? Miles 1 Why is he gone? Miles 3 Allas, whare is he that here laye? Miles 4 Whe, harrowe! Deuill, whare is he away? Miles 3 What, is he thus-gatis fro vs wente, THat fals traitour that here was lente, And we trewly here for to tente Had vndirtane? Sekirlie, I telle vs schente Holy ilkane. Miles 1 Allas, what schall we do this day, THat thus this warlowe is wente his waye? And sauely sirs I dare wele saie He rose allone. Miles 2 Witte sir Pilate of this affraye We mon be slone. Miles 3 Why, canne none of vs no bettir rede? Miles 4 THer is not ellis but we be dede. Miles 2 Whanne that he stered oute of this steede None couthe it kenne. Miles 1 Allas, harde happe was on my hede Amonge all menne. Fro sir Pilate witte of this dede, THat we were slepande whanne he yoede, He will forfette withouten drede All that we haue. Miles 2 Vs muste make lies, for that is nede, Oureselue to saue. Miles 3 YOa, that rede I wele, also motte I goo. Miles 4 And I assente therto alsoo. Miles 2 An hundereth schall I saie, and moo, Armed ilkone, Come and toke his corse vs froo And vs nere slayne. Miles 1 Nay; certis I halde there none so goode As saie the soth even as it stoode, Howe that he rose with mayne and mode And wente his way. To sir Pilate if he be wode THis dar I saie. Miles 2 Why, dare thou to sir Pilate goo With thes tydingis and saie hym soo? Miles 1 So rede I; if he vs sloo We dye but onys. Miles 3 Nowe he that wrought vs all this woo Woo worthe his bonys. Miles 4 Go we thanne, sir knyghtis hende, Sen that we schall to sir Pilate wende. I trowe that we schall parte no frende Or that we passe. Miles 1 And I schall hym saie ilke worde tille ende, Even as it was. Sir Pilate, prince withouten pere, Sir Cayphas and Anna in fere, And all yoe lordyngis that are here To neven by name, God saue yoou all on sidis sere Fro synne and schame. Pilate YOe are welcome, oure knyghtis kene, Of mekill mirthe nowe may yoe mene, Therfore some tales telle vs betwene Howe yoe haue wroght. Miles 1 Oure wakyng, lorde, withouten wene, Is worthed to noyot. Caiphas To noght? Allas, sesse of such sawe. Miles 2 THe prophete Jesu that yoe wele knawe Is resen and gone for all oure awe, With mayne and myght. Pilate THerfore the deuill hymselffe the drawe, Fals recrayed knyght. Combered cowardis I you call, Haue yoe latten hym goo fro you all? Miles 3 Sir, ther was none that did but small When that he yoede. Miles 4 We wer so ferde downe ganne we falle And dared for drede. Anna Hadde yoe no strenghe hym to gaynestande? Traitoures, yoe myght haue boune in bande Bothe hym and thame that yoe ther fande, And sessid thame sone. Miles 1 THat dede all erthely men leuand Myght noyot haue done. Miles 2 We wer so radde euerilkone Whanne that he putte beside the stone, We wer so stonyed we durste stirre none, And so abasshed. Pilate What, rose he by hymselfe allone? Miles 1 YOa sir, that be yoe traste. Miles 4 We herde never sen we were borne, Nor all oure faderes vs beforne, Suche melodie mydday ne morne As was made there. Caiphas Allas, thanne is oure lawes lorne For eueremare. Miles 2 What tyme he rose goode tente I toke, THe erthe that tyme tremylled and quoke, All kyndely force than me forsoke Tille he was gone. Miles 3 I was aferde, I durste not loke Ne myght had none, I myght not stande, so was I starke. Pilate Sir Cayphas, yoe are a connyng clerke: If we amysse haue tane oure merke, I trowe same faile- THerfore what schalle worthe nowe of this werke? Sais your counsaille. Caiphas To saie the beste forsothe I schall That schall be prophete to vs all. YOone knyghtis behoues there wordis agayne-call, Howe he is miste. We nolde for thyng that myght befall THat no man wiste. Anna Now sir Pilate, sen that it is soo THat he is resynne dede vs froo, Comaundis youre knyghtis to saie wher thei goo THat he was tane With xxti ml. men and mo, And thame nere slayne, And therto of oure tresorie Giffe to thame a rewarde forthy. Pilate Nowe of this purpose wele plesed am I, And forther thus: Sir knyghtis that are in dedis dowty, Takes tente to vs, And herkenes what that yoe schall saie To ilke a man both nyyot and daye, That ten ml. men in goode araye Come yoou vntill, With forse of armys bare hym awaye Agaynst your will. Thus schall yoe saie in ilke a lande, And therto on that same comenaunde A thousande pounde haue in youre hande To your rewarde- And frenschippe sirs, yoe vndirstande, Schall not be spared. Caiphas Ilkone youre state we schall amende, And loke yoe saie as we yoou kende. Miles 1 In what contré so yoe vs sende Be nyght or daye, Wherso we come wherso we wende So schall we saie. Pilate YOa, and whereso yoe tarie in ilke contré, Of oure doyng in no degré Dois that no manne the wiser be Ne freyne beforne, Ne of the sight that yoe gonne see Nevynnes it nowthere even ne morne. For we schall mayntayne yoou alwaye, And to the pepull schall we saie It is gretely agaynste oure lay To trowe such thing. So schall thei deme both nyght and day All is lesyng. Thus schall the sothe be bought and solde And treasoune schall for trewthe be tolde, THerfore ay in youre hartis yoe holde THis counsaile clene. And fares nowe wele both yonge and olde, Haly bedene. Play 39Mary Magdalene Allas, in this worlde was neuere no wight Walkand with so mekill woo. Thou dredfull dede, drawe hythir and dight And marre me as thou haste done moo. In lame is it loken, all my light, Forthy on grounde onglad I goo; Jesus of Nazareth he hight, The false Jewes slewe hym me froo. Mi witte is waste nowe in wede. I walowe, I walke, nowe woo is me, For laide nowe is that lufsome in lede, The Jewes hym nayled vntill a tree. My doulfull herte is euere in drede, To grounde nowe gone is all my glee. I sporne ther I was wonte to spede, Nowe helpe me God in persones three. Thou lufsome lede in ilke a lande, As thou schope both day and nyght, Sonne and mone both bright schynand, THou graunte me grace to haue a sight Of my lorde, or ellis his sande. Jesus Thou wilfull woman in this waye, Why wepis thou soo als thou wolde wede, Als thou on felde wolde falle doune faie? Do way, and do no more that dede. Whome sekist thou this longe daye? Say me the sothe, als Criste the rede. Mary Magdalene Mi lorde Jesu and God verray, THat suffered for synnes his sides bleede. Jesus I schall the saie, will thou me here, THe soth of hym that thou hast sought: Withowten drede, thou faithfull fere, He is full nere that mankynde bought. Mary Magdalene Sir, I wolde loke both ferre and nere To fynde my lorde-I se hym noght. Jesus Womane, wepe noght, but mende thy chere, I wotte wele whedir that he was brought. Mary Magdalene Swete sir, yf thou hym bare awaye, Saie me the sothe and thedir me leede Where thou hym didde, withouten delay I schall hym seke agayne goode speede. Therfore, goode gardener, saie thou me, I praye the for the prophetis sake, Of thez tythyngis that I aske the. For it wolde do my sorowe to slake When Goddis body founden myght be, THat Joseph of the crosse gonne take. Might I hym fange vnto my fee, Of all my woo he wolde me wrake. Jesus What wolde thou doo with that body bare THat beried was with balefull chere? THou may noght salue hym of his sare, His peynes were so sadde and seere. But he schall cover mankynde of care, THat clowded was he schall make clere, And the folke wele for to fare THat fyled were all in feere. Mary Magdalene A, myght I euere with that man mete, THe whiche that is so mekill of myght, Drye schulde I wype that nowe is wete; I am but sorowe of worldly sight. Jesus Marie, of mournyng amende thy moode, And beholde my woundes wyde. THus for mannys synnes I schedde my bloode And all this bittir bale gonne bide. THus was I rased on the roode With spere and nayles that were vnride. Trowe it wele, it turnes to goode Whanne men in erthe ther flessh schall hyde. Mary Magdalene A, Rabony, I haue the sought, Mi maistir dere, full faste this day. Jesus Goo awaye Marie, and touche me noyot, But take goode kepe what I schall saie: I ame hee that all thyng wroght, THat thou callis thi lorde and God verraye. With bittir dede I mankynde boght, And I am resen as thou se may. And therfore, Marie, speke nowe with me, And latte thou nowe be thy grette. Mary Magdalene Mi lorde Jesu, I knowe nowe the, THi woundes thai are nowe wette. Jesus Negh me noght, my loue, latte be Marie my doughtir swete. To my fadir in Trinité Forthe I stigh noyot yette. Mary Magdalene A, mercy, comely conquerour, Thurgh thi myght thou haste ouercome dede. Mercy, Jesu, man and saueour, Thi loue is swetter thanne the mede. Mercy, myghty confortour, For are I was full wille of rede. Welcome lorde, all myn honnoure, Mi joie, my luffe, in ilke a stede. Jesus Marie, in thyne harte thou write Myne armoure riche and goode: Myne actone couered all with white Als cors of man behewede, With stuffe goode and parfite Of maydenes flessh and bloode; Whan thei ganne thirle and smyte Mi heede for hawberke stoode. Mi plates wer spredde all on brede, THat was my body vppon a tree; Myne helme couered all with manhede, THe strengh therof may no man see; THe croune of thorne that garte me blede, Itt bemenes my dignité. Mi diademe sais, withouten drede, THat dede schall I neuere be. Mary Magdalene A, blessid body that bale wolde beete, Dere haste thou bought mankynne. Thy woundes hath made thi body wete With bloode that was the withinne. Nayled thou was thurgh hande and feete, And all was for oure synne. Full grissely muste we caitiffis grete- Of bale howe schulde I blynne? To se this ferly foode THus ruffully dight, Rugged and rente on a roode, THis is a rewfull sight; And all is for oure goode, And nothyng for his plight. Spilte thus is his bloode, For ilke a synfull wight. Jesus To my God and my fadir dere, To hym als-swithe I schall assende, For I schall nowe noyot longe dwelle here, I haue done als my fadir me kende; And therfore loke that ilke man lere Howe that in erthe ther liffe may mende. All that me loues I schall drawe nere Mi fadirs blisse that neuere schall ende. Mary Magdalene Alle for joie me likes to synge, Myne herte is gladder thanne the glee, And all for joie of thy risyng That suffered dede vpponne a tree. Of luffe nowe is thou crouned kyng, Is none so trewe levand more free. Thy loue passis all erthely thyng, Lorde, blissed motte thou euere bee. Jesus To Galilé schall thou wende Marie, my doghtir dere, Vnto my brethir hende, THer thei are all in fere. Telle thame ilke worde to ende THat thou spake with me here. Mi blissing on the lende, And all that we leffe here. Play 40Pilgrim 1 That lorde that me lente this liffe for to lede, In my wayes thou me wisse thus will of wone. Qwen othir men halfe moste mirthe to ther mede, THanne als a mornand manne make I my mone. For douteles nowe may we drede vs- Allas, thei haue refte vs oure rede, With doole haue thei dight hym to dede, THat lorde that was leeffe for to lede vs. Pilgrim 2 He ledde vs full lelly that lorde, nowe allas, Mi lorde for his lewté his liffe has he lorne. Pilgrim 1 Saye, who comes there claterand? Pilgrim 2 Sir, I Cleophas; Abide, my leffe brothere, to bale am I borne. But telle me whedir thou bounes? Pilgrim 1 To Emax, this castell beside vs. Ther may we bothe herber and hyde vs, THerfore late vs tarie at no townes. Pilgrim 2 Atte townes for to tarie take we no tent, But take vs tome at this tyme to talke of sume tales, And jangle of the Jewes and of Jesu so gente, Howe thei bette that body was bote of all bales. With buffettis thei bete hym full barely, In sir Cayphas hall garte thei hym call; And hym before sir Pilate in his hall On the morne than aftir, full arely. Pilgrim 1 Full arely the juggemen demed hym to dye; Both prestis and prelatis to Pilate made preysing, And alls cursid caytiffis and kene on Criste gan thei crie, And on that lele lorde made many a lesyng. THei spitte in his face to dispise hym, To spoile hym nothyng thei spared hym, But natheles baynly thei bared hym, With scourges smertly goyng thei smote hym. Pilgrim 2 THei smotte hym full smertely that the bloode oute braste, THat all his hyde in hurth was hastely hidde. A croune of thorne on his heede full thraly thei thraste, Itt is grete dole for to deme the dedis thei hym dide. With byndyng vnbaynly and betyng, THane on his bakke bare he thame by A crosse vnto Caluery; THat swettyng was swemyed for swetyng. Pilgrim 1 For all the swette that he swete with swyngis thei hym swang, And raffe hym full rewfully with rapes on a rode. THan heuyd thei hym highly on hight for to hang, Withouten misse of this man, thus mensked thai his mode THat euere has bene trewest in trastyng. Methynkith myn herte is boune for to breke, Of his pitefull paynes when we here speke, So frendfull we fonde hym in fraistyng. Pilgrim 2 In frasting we fonde hym full faithfull and free, In his mynde mente he neuere mysse to no man. Itt was a sorowe, forsoth, in sight for to see Whanne that a spetyffull spere vnto his harte ranne. In baill thus his body was beltid, Into his harte thraly thei thraste; Whan his piteffull paynes were paste, THat swet thyng full swiftely he sweltid. Pilgrim 1 He sweltid full swithe in swonyng, that swette. Allas for that luffely that laide is so lowe, With granyng full grissely on grounde may we grette, For so comely a corse canne I none knowe. With dole vnto dede thei did hym For his wise werkis that he wroght thame, THes false folke, whan thei bethoughte thame, THat grette vnkyndynesse thei kidde hym. Pilgrim 2 Vnkyndynesse thei kidde hym, tho caitiffis so kene, And als vnwitty wightis wrought thei hym wrake. Jesus What are thes meruailes that yoe of mene And thus mekill mournyng in mynde that yoe make, Walkyng thus wille by thes wayes? Pilgrim 2 Why, arte thou a pilgryme and haste bene At Jerusalem, and haste thou noght sene What dole has ben done in thes daies? Jesus In ther daies, dere sir, what dole was ther done? Of that werke wolde I witte, and youre will were, And therfore I pray you telle me now sone, Was ther any hurlyng in hande? Nowe late me here. Pilgrim 1 Why, herde thou no carpyng nor crying Att Jerusalem ther thou haste bene, Whenne Jesu the Nazarene Was doulfully dight to the dying? Pilgrim 2 To the dying thei dight hym that defte was and dere, Thurgh prokering of princes that were ther in prees. Forthy as wightis that are will thus walke we in were, For-pechyng als pilgrymes that putte are to pees. For mornyng of oure maistir thus morne wee, As wightis that are wilsome thus walke we, Of Jesus in telling thus talke we, Fro townes for takyng thus turne we. Pilgrim 1 THus turne we fro townes, but take we entent How thei mourthered that man that we of mene. Full rewfully with ropis on rode thei hym rente And takkid hym thertill full tyte in a tene. Vpperightis full rudely thei raised hym, THanne myghtely to noye hym withall, In a mortaise faste lete hym fall- To pynne hym thei putte hym and peysed hym. Pilgrim 2 Thei peysed hym to pynne hym, that pereles of pese; THus on that wight that was wise wroyot thei grete wondir, YOitt with that sorowe wolde thei noyot sesse- They schogged hym and schotte hym his lymes all in sondir, His braynes thus brake thei and braste hym. A blynde knyght, such was his happe, Inne with a spere-poynte atte the pappe To the harte full thraly he thraste hym. Pilgrim 1 Thei thraste hym full thraly, than was ther no threpyng, THus with dole was that dere vnto dede dight. His bak and his body was bolned for betyng- Itt was, I saie the forsoth, a sorowfull sight. But ofte-sithes haue we herde saie, And we trowe as we herde telle, That he was to rawsoune Israell; But nowe is this the thirde daye. Pilgrim 2 THes dayes newe owre wittis are waxen in were, For some of oure women for certayne thei saide That thai sawe in ther sightis solas full seere, Howe all was lemand light wher he was laide. THei called vs, as euer myght thei thriffe, For certayne thei saugh it in sight, A visioune of aungellis bright, And tolde thame ther lorde was alyue. Pilgrim 1 On lyue tolde thei that lorde leued hir in lande; THez women come lightly to warne, I wene. Some of oure folke hyed forthe, and faste thei it fande THat all was soth that thei saide that sight had thei sene. For lely thei loked ther he laye THei wende ther that foode to haue fonne; THanne was his toumbe tome as a tonne- THanne wiste thei that wight was away. Pilgrim 2 Awaye is that wight that wonte was vs for to wisse. Jesus A, fooles that are fauty and failes of youre feithe, THis bale bud hym bide and belde thame in blisse- But yoe be lele of youre laye youre liffe holde I laith. To prophetis he proued it and preched, And also to Moyses gan he saie THat he muste nedis die on a day, And Moyses forth talde it and teched, And talde it and teched it many tymes than. Pilgrim 1 A, more of this talking we pray you to telle vs. Pilgrim 2 YOa sir, be youre carping full kyndely we kenne YOe meene of oure maistir of whome that we melle vs. Pilgrim 1 YOa, goode sir, see what I saie yoou, Se yoe this castell beside her? All nyght we thynke for to bide here; Bide with vs sir pilgrime, we praye yoou. We praye yoou, sir pilgrime, yoe presse noyot to passe. Jesus YOis sir, me bus nede. Pilgrim 1 Nay sir, the nyght is ovir-nere. Jesus And I haue ferre for to founde. Pilgrim 2 I hope wele thou has. Pilgrim 1 We praye the sir, hartely, all nyght holde the here. Jesus I thanke youe of this kyndinesse yoe kydde me. Pilgrim 1 Go in sir, sadly and sone. Pilgrim 2 Sir, daunger dowte noyot, haue done. Jesus Sir, I muste nedis do as yoe bid me. YOe bidde me so baynly I bide for the beste. Pilgrim 1 Lo, her is a sege goode sir, I saie yoou. Pilgrim 2 With such goode as we haue glad we oure geste. Pilgrim 1 Sir, of this poure pitaunce take parte now we pray yow. [... ...] Jesus Nowe blisse I this brede that brought is on the borde. Fraste theron faithfully, my frendis, you to feede. Pilgrim 1 [... ...] vnterly haue we tane entent- Ow, I trowe some torfoyr is betidde vs! Saie, wher is this man? Pilgrim 2 Away is he wente- Right now satte he beside vs. Pilgrim 1 Beside vs we both sawe hym sitte, And by no poynte couthe I parceyue hym passe. Pilgrim 2 Nay, be the werkis that he wrought full wele myght we witte Itt was Jesus hymselffe-I wiste who it was. Pilgrim 1 Itt was Jesus thus wisely that wrought, THat raised was and rewfully rente on the rode. Of bale and of bittirnesse has he vs boght, Boune was and betyn that all braste on bloode. Pilgrim 2 All braste on bloode, so sore was he bette, With ther wickid Jewes that wrethfull was euere; With scourges and scharpe thornes on his heede sette, Suche torfoyr and torment of telle herde I neuere. Pilgrim 1 Of telle herde I neuere of so pitefull peyne As suffered oure souerayne hyngand on hight; Nowe is he resen with myght and with mayne, I telle for sikir, we saugh hym in sight. Pilgrim 2 We saugh hym in sight, nowe take we entent Be the brede that he brake vs so baynly betwene, Such wondirfull wais as we haue wente Of Jesus the gente was neuere none seene. Pilgrim 1 Sene was ther neuere so wondirfull werkes, Be see ne be sande, in this worlde so wide. Menskfully in mynde thes materes now merkis, And preche we it prestly on euery ilke side. Pilgrim 2 On euery ilke side prestely prechis we- Go we to Jerusaleme thes tydingis to telle. Oure felawes fro fandyng nowe fraste we, More of this mater her may we not melle. Pilgrim 1 Here may we notte melle more at this tyde, For prossesse of plaies that precis in plight. He bringe to his blisse on euery ilke side, THat sofferayne lorde that moste is of myght. Play 41Peter Allas, to woo that we wer wrought, Hadde never no men so mekill thought, Sen that oure lorde to dede was brought With Jewes fell; Oute of this steede ne durste we noght, But here ay dwelle. John Here haue we dwelte with peynes strang; Of oure liffe vs lothis, we leve to lange, For sen the Jewes wrought vs that wrong Oure lorde to sloo, Durste we neuere come thame emang, Ne hense to goo. Jacobus THe wikkid Jewes hatis vs full ille, And bittir paynes wolde putte vs till. Therfore I rede that we dwelle stille Here ther we lende, Vnto that Criste oure lorde vs wille Some socoure sende. God Pees and reste be with yowe. Peter A, brethir dere, what may we trowe? What was this sight that we saughe nowe Shynand so bright, And vanysshed thus and we ne wote how, Oute of oure sight? John Oute of oure sight nowe is it soghte, Itt makith vs madde, the light it broght, What may it be? Jacobus Sertis, I wotte noght, But sekirly Itt was vanyté in oure thought, Nought ellis trowe I it be. God Pees vnto yowe euermore myght be, Drede you noyot, for I am hee. Peter On Goddis name, benedicite! What may this mene? Jacobus Itt is a sperite forsothe, thynketh me, THat dose vs tene. John A sperite it is, that trowe I right, All thus appered here to oure sight. Itt makis vs madde of mayne and myght, So is vs flaied; YOone is the same that broughte the light THat vs affraied. God What thynke yoe, madmen, in youre thought? What mournyng in youre hertis is brought? I ame Criste, ne drede yoou noght; Her may yoe se THe same body that has you bought Vppon a tre. THat I am comen yoou here to mete, Behalde and se myn handis and feete, And grathely gropes my woundes wete Al that here is. THus was I dight youre balis to beete, And bring to blis. For yowe ther gatis thanne haue I gone. Felys me grathely euerilkone, And se that I haue flessh and bone. Gropes me nowe, For so ne has sperite none, THat schall yoe trowe. To garre yoou kenne and knowe me clere I schall you schewe ensaumpillis sere. Bringe nowe forthe vnto me here Some of youre mette, If yoe amange you all in fere Haue ought to ete. Jacobus THou luffand lorde that laste schall ay, Loo, here is mette that thou ete may, A hony kombe the soth to saye, Roste fecche thertill. To ete therof here we the praie With full goode will. God Nowe sen yoe haue broughte me this mete, To make youre trouthe stedfast and grete, And for yoe schall wanhope forgete And trowe in me, With youe than here wol I ete, THat yoe schalle see. Nowe haue I done, yoe haue sene howe, Boldely etyng here with youe. Stedfastly loke that yoe trowe Yitt in me efte, And takis the remenaunte sone to you THat her is lefte. For yooue thus was I reuyn and rayst, THerfore some of my peyne yoe taste; And spekis now nowhare my worde waste, THat schall yoe lere, And vnto yoou the holy goste Resave yow here. Beis now trewe, and trowes in me, And here I graunte youe in youre posté: Whome that yoe bynde, bounden schall be Right at youre steuene, And whome that yoe lowys, losed schal be Euermore in heuene. Thomas Allas for sight and sorowes sadde, Mornyng makis me mased and madde; On grounde nowe may I gang vngladde Bothe even and morne. THat hende that I my helpe of hadde His liffe has lorne. Lorne I haue that louely light, THat was my maistir moste of myght. So doulfully as he was dight Was neuere no man; Such woo was wrought of that worthy wighte With wondis wan. Wan was his wondis and wonderus wette, With skelpis sore was he swongen, that swette, All naked nailed thurgh hande and feete. Allas, for pyne, THat bliste, that beste my bale myght bete, His liffe schulde tyne. Allas, for sorowe myselffe I schende When I thynke hartely on that hende, I fande hym ay a faithfull frende, Trulie to telle. To my brethir nowe wille I wende Wherso thei dwell. So wofull wyghtis was neuere none, Oure joie and comforte is all gone. Of mournyng may we make oure mone In ilka lande. God blisse you brether, bloode and bone, Same ther yoe stande. Peter Welcome Thomas, where has thou bene? Wete thou wele withouten wene Jesu oure lorde than haue we sene On grounde her gang. Thomas What saie yoe men? Allas, for tene, I trowe yoe mang. John Thomas, trewly it is noght to layne, Jesu oure lorde is resen agayne. Thomas Do waie, thes tales is but a trayne Of fooles vnwise. He that was so fully slayne, Howe schulde he rise? Jacobus Thomas, trewly he is on lyue THat tholede the Jewes his flessh to riffe, He lete vs fele his woundes fyue, Oure lorde verray. Thomas That trowe I nought, so motte I thryue, Whatso yoe saie. Peter Thomas, we saugh his woundes wette, Howe he was nayled thurgh hande and feete; Hony and fisshe with vs he eette, THat body free. Thomas I laye my liff it was some sperit YOe wende wer hee. John Nay Thomas, thou haste misgone, Forwhy he bad vs euerilkon To grope hym grathely, bloode and bone And flessh to feele. Such thyngis, Thomas, hase sperite none, THat wote thou wele. Thomas What, leue felawes, late be youre fare. Tille that I see his body bare And sithen my fyngir putte in thare Within his hyde, And fele the wounde the spere did schere Riyot in his syde, Are schalle I trowe no tales betwene. Jacobus Thomas, that wounde haue we seene. Thomas YOa, yoe wotte neuere what yoe mene, Youre witte it wantis. Ye muste thynke no syne me thus to tene And tule with trantis. God Pees, brethir, be vnto you; And Thomas, tente to me takis thou, Putte forthe thy fyngir to me nowe. Myn handis thou see, Howe I was nayled for mannys prowe Vppon a tree. Beholde my woundis are bledand; Here in my side putte in thi hande, And fele my woundis and vndirstande THat this is I, And be no more mistrowand, But trowe trewly. Thomas Mi lorde, my God, full wele is me. A, blode of price, blessid mote thou be; Mankynd in erth, behold and see THis blessid blode. Mercy nowe lorde ax I the, With mayne and mode. God Thomas, for thou haste sene this sight, THat I am resen as I the hight, THerfore thou trowes it-but ilka wight, Blissed be they euere THat trowis haly in my rising right, And saw it neuere. My brethir, fonde nowe forthe in fere, Ouereall in ilke a contré clere. My rising both ferre and nere Preche it schall yoe; And my blissyng I giffe yoou here, And my menyoe. Play 42Peter O mightfull God, how standis it nowe, In worlde thus will was I neuere are; Butte he apperes, bot I ne wote howe- He fro vs twynnes whanne he will fare. And yoitt may falle that for oure prowe, And alle his wirkyng lesse and mare. A, kyng of comforte, gudde arte thou And lele, and likand is thy lare. John The missing of my maistir trewe That lenghis not with vs lastandly, Makis me to morne ilke a day newe For tharnyng of his company. His peere of gudnes neuere I knewe, Of myght ne wisdome yoit any. Peter That we hym tharne sore may vs rewe, For he luffed vs full faithfully. Bot yoitt in all my mysselykyng A worde that Criste saide comfortis me: Oure heuynes and oure mournyng, He saide, to joie turned schuld be. THat joie, he saide in his hetyng, To reue vs none schulde haue no posté, Wherfore abouen all othir thyng That joie me longis to knowe and see. Mary THou Petir, whanne my sone was slayne And laide in graue, yoe wer in were Whedir he schulde rise, almoste ilkane; But nowe yoe wotte thurgh knowyng clere. Some that he saide schulde come is gane, And some to come; but ilkane sere, Whedir it be to come or none, Vs awe to knowe it all in fere. Jesus Almyghty God, my fadir free, In erthe thi bidding haue I done And clarified the name of the; To thyselffe clarifie the sone. Als thou haste geuen me pleyne posté Of ilke a flesh, graunte me my bone, THat thou me gaffe myght lyffand be In endles liffe and with the wonne. THat liffe is this that hath none ende, To knawe the, fadir, moste of myght; And me thy sone, whame thou gon sende To dye for man withouten plight. Mankynde was thyne, whome thou bekende And toke me to my yoemyng right. I died for man, mannes misse to mende, And vnto spitous dede was dight. Thy wille vnto them taughte haue I, THat wolde vnto my lare enclyne. Mi lare haue they tane buxsomly, Schall none of them ther trauaile tyne. THou gaffe them me but noght forthy, YOitt are they thyne als wele as myne; Fleme them not fro oure companye, Sen thyne are myne and myne er thyne. Sen they are oures, if thame nede ought THou helpe them, if it be thy will; And als thou wate that I thame boght, For faute of helpe latte them not spill. Fro the worlde to take them pray I noght, But that thou kepe thame ay fro ill, All thois also that settis thare thoght In erthe my techyng to fulfill. Mi tythandis tane has my menyoe To teche the pepull wher they fare, In erthe schall thei leue aftir me And suffir sorowes sadde and sare. Dispised and hatted schall thei be, Als I haue bene, with lesse and mare, And suffer dede in sere degré, For sothfastnesse schall none them spare. THou halowe thame fadir, forthy, In sothfastnes so that thei may Be ane as we ar, thowe and I, In will and werke, both nyght and day, And knawe that I ame verilye Both sothfastnes and liffe alway, Be the whilke ilke man that is willy May wynne the liffe that laste schall ay. Bot yoe, my postelis all bedene THat lange has wente abowte with me, In grete wanne-trowyng haue yoe bene, And wondir harde of hartis ar yoe. Worthy to be reproued, I wene, Ar yoe forsothe, and yoe will see In als mekill als yoe haue sene My wirkyng proued and my posté. Whan I was dede and laide in graue Of myne vpryse yoe were in doute, And some for myne vprysing straue When I was laide als vndir clowte So depe in erthe. But sithen I haue Ben walkand fourty daies aboute, Eten with yoou, youre trouthe to saue, Comand emange yoou inne and oute. And therfore beis no more in were Of myne vpperysing, day nor nyght. Youre misbeleue leues ilkone seere, For witte yoe wele, als man of myght Over whome no dede may haue poure, I schall be endles liffeand right. Bot for to schewe you figure clere, Schewe I me thusgatis to youre sight. Howe man by cours of kynde schall ryse, Allthogh he be roten ontill noyot. Oute of his graue in this same wise At the daye of dome schall he be broght Wher I schall sitte as trewe justise, And deme man aftir he has wroght, THe wikkid to wende with ther enmyse, THe gode to blisse thei schall be broght. Anodir skill forsoth is this: In a tre man was traied thurgh trayne; Ane man, forthy to mende that misse On a tree boght mankynde agayne, In confusioune of hym and his THat falsely to forge that frawde was fayne, Mankynde to bringe agayne to blisse, His foo, the fende, till endles peyne. THe thirde skille is, trewly to tell, Right als I wende als wele will seme, So schall I come in flessh and fell Atte the day of dome, whan I schall deme THe goode in endles blisse to dwell, Mi fomen fro me for to fleme Withouten ende in woo to well, Ilke leuand man here to take yeme. But intill all the worlde wendand, THe gospell trewly preche schall yoe Tille ilke a creatoure liffand. Who trowes, if that he baptised be He schall, als yhe schall vndirstande, Be saued, and of all thraldome free. Who trowis it not, as mistrowand For faute of trouthe dampned is he. But all ther tokenyngis bedene Schall folowe tham that trowis it right, In my name deuellis crewell and kene Schall thei oute-caste of ilka wight, With newe tongis speke, serpentis vnclene Fordo; and if thei day or nyght Drinke venym wik, withouten wene, To noye thame schall it haue no myght. On seke folke schall thei handes lay And wele schall thei haue sone at welde, THis poure schall thei haue alway, My menyohe, bothe in towne and felde; And witte yoe wele, so schall thei THat wirkis my wille in youthe or elde- A place for thame I schall purveye In blisse with me ay in to belde. Nowe is my jornay brought till ende, Mi tyme that me so lang was lente. To my fadir nowe vppe I wende, And youre fadir that me doune sente- Mi God, youre God, and ilk mannes frende That till his techyng will consente, Till synneres that no synne thame schende, THat mys amendis and will repente. But for I speke thes wordis nowe To you, youre hartis hase heuynes. Fullfillid all be it for youre prowe THat I hense wende, als nedfull is. And butte I wende comes noght to yowe THe comforteoure of comforteles, And if I wende yoe schall fynde howe I schall hym sende, of my goodnesse. Mi fadirs will fullfillid haue I, Therfore fareswele ilkone seere; I goo make youe a stede redye Endles to wonne with me in feere. Sende doune a clowde, fadir, forthy I come to the my fadir deere. THe fadir blissing moste myghty Giffe I you all that leffe here. Mary A, myghtfull God, ay moste of myght, A selcouth sight is this to see, Mi sone thus to be ravisshed right In a clowde wendande vppe fro me. Bothe is my herte heuy and light, Heuy for swilke twynnyng schulde be, And light for he haldis that he hight And thus vppe wendis in grette posté. His hetyngis haldis he all bedene, THat comfortis me in all my care. But vnto whome schall I me mene? THus will in worlde was I neuere are, To dwelle amonge thes Jewes kene- Me to dispise will thei not spare. John All be he noght in presens seene, YOitt is he salue of ilka sare. But lady, sen that he betoke Me for to serue you as youre sonne, YOou nedis nothyng, lady, but loke What thyng in erthe yoe will haue done. I ware to blame if I forsoke To wirke youre wille, midday or none, Or any tyme yoitt of the woke. Mary I thanke the John, with wordis fune: Mi modirhed, John, schall thou haue, And for my sone I wolle the take. John THat grace, dere lady, wolde I craue. Mary Mi sone sawes will I neuere forsake, Itt were not semand that we straue Ne contraried noyot that he spake; But John, tille I be broght in graue, Schall thou never see my sorowe slake. Jacob Owre worthy lorde, sen he is wente For vs, lady, als is his will, We thanke hym that vs the hath lente With vs on lyue to lenge her stille. I saie for me with full concente, THi likyng all will I fulfille. Andrew So wille we all with grete talent, Forthy lady, giffe the noght ill. Angel 1 YOe men of the lande of Galilé, What wondir yoe to heuene lokand? THis Jesus whome yoe fro youe see Vppe-tane, yoe schall wele vndirstande, Right so agayne come doune schall he. When he so comes with woundes bledand, Who wele has wrought full gladde may be, Who ill has leved full sore dredand. Angel 2 YOe that has bene his seruauntis trewe And with hym lengand nyght and day, Slike wirkyng als yoe with hym knew Loke that yoe preche it fourthe alway. Youre mede in heuene beis ilke day newe, And all that seruis hym wele to paye. Who trowes you noght it schall thame rewe, THei mon haue peyne encresand ay. Jacobus Loued be thou lorde ay moste of myght, THat thus, in all oure grete disease, Vs comfortist with thyne aungellis bright. Nowe aught ther Jewes thare malise meese, THat sawe thameselue this wondir sight THus nere thame wroght vndir ther nese- And we haue mater day and nyght Oure God more for to preyse and plese. Andrew Nowe may ther Jewes be all confused If thai on-thinke thame inwardly, Howe falsely thei haue hym accused And sakles schente thurgh ther envy. THer falsed, that thei longe haue vsed, Nowe is it proued here opynly; And they were of this mater mused Itt schulde thame stirre to aske mercy. Peter THat wille thei noyot Andrewe, late be, For thei are full of pompe and pride. Itt may noyot availe to the ne me Ne none of vs with thame to chide. Prophite to dwelle can I none see, Forthy late us no lenger bide, But wende we vnto seere contré To preche thurgh all this worlde so wide. John THat is oure charge, for that is beste, THat we lenge nowe no lenger here, For here gete we no place of reste To lenge so nere the Jewes poure. Vs to fordo thei will thame caste, Forthy come forthe my lady dere And wende vs hense; I am full preste With you to wende with full goode chere. Mi triste is nowe euer ilk a dele In yowe, to wirke aftir youre counsaill. Jacobus Mi lady dere, that schall yoe fele In oght that euere vs may availe. Oure comforte, youre care to kele, Whill we may leue we schall not faile. Mary Mi brethir dere, I traste itt wele, Mi sone schall quyte yoou youre trauaile. Peter To Jerusalem go we agayne And loke what fayre so aftir fall, Oure lorde and maistir moste of mayne He wisse youe, and be with youe all. Play 43Peter Brethir, takes tente vnto my steuen, THanne schall yoe stabily vndirstande Oure maistir hende is hente to heuyn, To reste there on his fadirs right hande. And we are leued alyue elleuyn, To lere his lawes lely in lande; Or we begynne vs muste be even Ellis are owre werkis noght to warande. For parfite noumbre it is none Off elleuen for to lere, Twelue may be asoundir tone And sett in parties seere. Nobis precepit dominus predicare populo, et testificare quia prope est iudex viuorum et mortuorum. Oure lord comaunded vs more and lesse To rewle vs right aftir his rede, He badde vs preche and bere wittenesse That he schulde deme bothe quike and dede. To hym all prophettis preuys expresse All tho that trowis in his Godhede, Off synnes thei schall haue forgiffenesse, So schall we say...mekill rede. And senne we on this wise Schall his counsaile discrie, Itt nedis we vs avise THat we saye noyot serely. John Serely he saide that we schulde wende In all this worlde his will to wirke, And be his counsaile to be kende He saide he schulde sette haly kirke. But firste he saide he schulde doune sende His sande, that we schuld noyot be irke, His haly gaste on vs to lende And make vs to melle of materes mirke. Vs menis he saide vs thus Whan that he fared vs froo: `Cum venerit paraclitus Docebit vos omnia`. Jacobus YOa, certaynely he saide vs soo, And mekill more thanne we of mene: `Nisi ego abiero`, THus tolde he ofte-tymes vs betwene. He saide, forsoth, `But if thi goo THe holy goste schall not be sene, Et cum assumptus fuero THanne schall I sende yoou comforte clené. THus tolde he holy howe THat oure dedis schulde be dight, So schall we trewly trowe He will holde that he vs highte. He will holde that he vs hight. Apostle 4 He highte vs fro harme for to hyde And holde in hele both hede and hende, Whanne we take that he talde that tyde, Fro all oure foois it schall vs fende. But thus in bayle behoues vs bide To tyme that sande till vs be sende; THe Jewes besettis vs in ilke a side THat we may nowdir walke nor wende. Apostle 5 We dare noyot walke for drede Or comforte come vs till, Itt is moste for oure spede Here to be stokyn still. Mary Brethir, what mene yoe yoou emelle, To make mournyng at ilk a mele? My sone that of all welthe is well, He will yoou wisse to wirke full wele, For the tente day is this to telle Sen he saide we schull fauoure fele. Leuys wele that lange schall it not dwell, And therfore drede you neuere a dele, But prayes with harte and hende THat we his helpe may haue, THanne schall it sone be sende, THe sande that schall vs saue. Doctor 1 Harke maistir, for Mahoundes peyne, Howe that thes mobbardis maddis nowe. THer maistir that oure men haue slayne Hase garte thame on his trifullis trowe. Doctor 2 THe lurdayne sais he leffis agayne; THat mater may thei neuere avowe, For as thei herde his prechyng pleyne He was away, thai wiste noyot howe. Doctor 1 They wiste noyot whenne he wente, THerfore fully thei faile, And sais tham schall be sente Grete helpe thurgh his counsaille. Doctor 2 He myghte nowdir sende clothe nor clowte, He was neuere but a wrecche alway- But samme oure men and make a schowte, So schall we beste yone foolis flaye. Doctor 1 Nay, nay, than will thei dye for doute. I rede we make noyot mekill dray, But warly wayte when thai come oute And marre thame thanne, if that we may. Doctor 2 Now certis, I assente thertille, Yitt wolde I noght thei wiste; YOone carles than schall we kill But thei liffe als vs liste. Mary Honnoure and blisse be euer newe, With worschippe in this worlde alwaye, To my souerayne sone Jesu, Oure lorde allone that laste schall ay. Nowe may we triste his talis ar trewe, Be dedis that here is done this day; Als lange as yoe his pase pursue THe fende he fendis yow for to flay. For his high hali gaste He lattis here on yoou lende, Mirthis and trewthe to taste And all misse to amende. Peter All mys to mende nowe haue we myght, THis is the mirthe oure maistir of mente. I myght noyot loke, so was it light- A, loued be that lorde that itt vs lente. Now hase he holden that he vs highte, His holy goste here haue we hente; Like to the sonne itt semed in sight, And sodenly thanne was itt sente. Apostle 2 Hitt was sente for oure sele, Hitt giffis vs happe and hele, Methynke slike forse I fele I myght felle folke full feele. Apostle 3 We haue force for to fighte in felde And fauour of all folke in feere, With wisdome in this worlde to welde Be knowing of all clergye clere. Apostle 4 We haue bewteis to be oure belde And langage nedis vs none to lere, THat lorde vs awe yoappely to yoelde THat vs has yoemed vnto this yoere. Apostle 5 This is the yoere of grace THat musteris vs emang, As aungellis in this place THat sais thus in ther sange. Apostle 1 In thare sigging saide thei thus, And tolde ther talis betwene them two: `Veni creator spiritus, Mentes tuorum visita`. THei praied the spirite come till vs And mende oure myndis with mirthis ma, THat lered thei of oure lorde Jesus, For he saide that itt schulde be swa. Apostle 2 He saide he schulde vs sende His holy goste fro heuyn, Oure myndis with mirthe to mende- Nowe is all ordand euyn. Apostle 3 Euen als he saide schulde to vs come So has bene schewid vnto oure sight; `Tristicia impleuit cor vestrum'- Firste sorowe in herte he vs hight; `Sed conuertetur in gaudium`. Sen saide he that we schulde be light. Nowe that he saide vs, all and summe, Is mefid emange vs thurgh his myght. Apostle 4 His myght with mayne and mode May comforte all mankynde. Doctor 1 Harke man, for Mahoundes bloode, THer men maddis oute of mynde. THei make carpyng of ilke contré, And leris langage of ilk a lande. Doctor 2 They speke oure speche als wele as we, And in ilke a steede it vndirstande. Doctor 1 And alle are noyot of Galilee THat takis this hardinesse on hande? Butt thei are drounken, all thes menyoe, Of muste or wyne, I wolle warande. Doctor 2 Nowe certis this was wele saide, THat makis ther mynde to marre; YOone faitours schall be flaied Or that thei flitte aught ferre. Apostle 4 Harke brethir, waites wele aboute, For in oure fayre we fynde no frende. THe Jewes with strengh are sterne and stoute And scharpely schapes them vs to schende. Apostle 1 Oure maistir has putte all perellis oute And fellid the falsed of the fende. Vndo youre dores and haues no doute, For to yoone warlowes will we wende. Apostle 2 To wende haue we no drede, Noght for to do oure dette, For to neuyn that is nede Shall none on lyve vs lette. Peter YOe Jewez that in Jerusalem dwelle, Youre tales are false, that schall yoe fynde. THat we are dronken we here you telle Because yoe hope we haue bene pynnyd. A prophette preued, his name is Johell, A gentill Jewe of youre awne kynde, He spekis thus in his speciall spell And of this matere makis he mynde. Be poyntis of prophicie He tolde full ferre before, THis may yoe noyot denye, For thus his wordis wore: `Et erit nouissimis diebus, dicit dominus, effundam de spiritu meo super omnem carnem`. Apostle 3 Loo, losellis, loo, thus may ye lere Howe youre elders wrotte alway. THe holy goste haue we tane here As youre awne prophettis prechid ay. Apostle 4 Hitt is the myght of oure maistir dere, All dedis that here are done this daye; He giffis vs myght and playne power To conclude all that yoe can saie. Doctor 1 There men hase mekill myght Thurgh happe thei here haue tone. Doctor 2 Wende we oute of ther sight And latte them even allone. Apostle 1 Nowe, brethir myne, sen we all meffe To teche the feithe to foo and frende, Oure tarying may turne vs to mischeffe, Wherfore I counsaille that we wende Vntille oure lady and take oure leue. Apostle 2 Sertis, so woll we with wordis hende. Mi lady, takis it noght to greue, I may no lenger with you lende. [... ...] Mary Nowe Petir, sen itt schall be soo THat yoe haue diuerse gatis to gang, Ther schall none dere you for to doo Whils my sone musteris you emang. Butt John and Jamys, my cosyns twoo, Loke that yoe lenge not fro me lange. John Lady, youre wille in wele and woo, Itt schall be wroght, ellis wirke we wrang. Jacobus Lady, we bothe are boune Atte youre biddyng to be. Mary The blissing of my sone Be boith with you and me. Play 44Gabriel Hayle, myghfull Marie, Godis modir so mylde, Hayle be thou, roote of all reste, hayle be thou, ryall. Hayle floure and frewte noyot fadid nor filyd, Haile, salue to all synnefull. Nowe saie the I schall Thy sone to thiselue me has sente, His sande, and sothly he saies No lenger than ther thre dayes Here lefte the this liffe that is lente. And therfore he biddis the loke that thou blithe be, For to that bigly blisse that berde will the bring, There to sitte with hymselue, all solas to see, And to be crowned for his quene and he hymselue kyng In mirthe that euere schall be newe. He sendis to the worthely iwis THis palme oute of paradise, In tokenyng that it schall be trewe. Mary I thanke my sone semely of all his sandis sere; Vnto hym lastandly be ay louyng THat me thus worthely wolde menske on this manere, And to his bigly blisse my bones for to bringe. But gode ser, neuenes me thi name. Gabriel Gabriell, that baynly ganne bringe THe boodworde of his bering- Forsothe lady, I ame the same. Mary Nowe Gabriell that sothly is fro my sone sent, I thanke the ther tythyngis thou tellis me vntill, And loued be that lorde of the lane that has me lente [... ...] And dere sone, I beseke the Grete God, thou graunte me thi grace, Thyne appostelis to haue in this place, THat thei at my bering may be. Gabriel Nowe foode fairest of face, most faithfull and fre, THyne askyng thi sone has graunte of his grace, And saies all same in sight yoe schall see All his appostelis appere in this place, To wirke all thi will at thi wending. And sone schall thi peynes be paste, And thou to be in liffe that schall laste Euermore withouten any ending. John Marie my modir, that mylde is and meke And cheffe chosen for chaste, nowe telle me, what chere? Mary John, sone, I saie the forsothe I am seke. Mi swete sone sonde I hente, right nowe it was here, And douteles he saies I schall dye. Within thre daies iwis, I schall be beldid in blisse And come to his awne company. John A, with thi leue lady, thou neuene it me noght, Ne telle me no tydingis to twynne vs in two, For be thou, blissid birde, vnto bere broght Euermore whils I wonne in this worlde will me be full woo, Therfore lete it stynte and be still. Mary Nay John, sone, myselue nowe I see Atte Goddis will moste it nedis be, THerfore be it wroght at his will. John A, worthy, when thou art wente will me be full woo- But God giffe the appostelis wiste of thi wending. Mary YOis John, sone, for certayne schall it be so, All schall thei hardely be here at myne ending. The sonde of my sone saide me this, THat sone schall my penaunce be paste And I to be in liffe that euere schall laste, Than baynly to belde in that blisse. Peter O God omnipotent, the giffer of all grace, Benedicite dominus, a clowde now full clere Vmbelappid me in Judé prechand as I was, And I haue mekill meruayle how that I come here. Jacobus A, sesse, of this assemelyng can I noyot saie Howe and in what wise that we are here mette, Owthir myrthe or of mornyng mene wele it maye, For sodenly in sight here sone was I sette. Andrew A, bredir, be my wetand and iwisse so wer we, In diuerse landes lely I wotte we were lente, And how we are semelid thus can I noyot see, But as God of his sande has vs same sente. John A, felawes, late be youre fare, For as God will it moste nedis be, THat pereles is of posté, His myyot is to do mekill mare. For Marie that worthy schall wende nowe I wene, Vnto that bigly blisse that high barne baynly vs boght; THat we in hir sight all same myght be sene Or sche disseuer vs froo, hir sone sche besoght. And thus has he wroght atte hir will, Whanne sche schal be broght on a bere, That we may be neghand hir nere This tyme for to tente hir vntill. Mary Jesu my darlyng that ding is and dere, I thanke the my dere sone of thi grete grace THat I all this faire felawschip atte hande nowe has here, THat thei me some comforte may kythe in this case. THis sikenes it sittis me full sare; My maidens, take kepe nowe on me And caste some watir vppon me- I faynte, so febill I fare. Ancilla 1 Allas for my lady that lemed so light, That euere I leued in this lede thus longe for to lende, That I on this semely schulde se such a sight. Ancilla 2 Allas, helpe, sche dyes in oure hende. A, Marie, of me haue thou mynde [... ...] Some comforte vs two for to kythe, THou knowes we are comen of thi kynde. Mary What ayles yow women for wo thus wynly to wepe? Yhe do me dere with youre dynne, for me muste nedis dye Yhe schulde, whenne yoe saw me so slippe on slepe, Haue lefte all youre late and lette me lye. John, cosyne, garre thame stynte and be still. John A, Marie that mylde is of mode, When thi sone was raised on a rode To tente the he toke me the till, And therfore at thi bidding full bayne will I be. Iff ther be oght, modir, that I amende may, I pray the, myldest of mode, meue the to me, And I schall, dereworthi dame, do it ilke a daye. Mary A, John, sone, that this peyne were ouere-paste! With goode harte yoe alle that are here Praies for me faithfully in feere, For I mon wende fro you as faste. Judeus 1 A, foode fairest of face, moste faithfull to fynde, THou mayden and modir that mylde is and meke, As thou arte curtaise and comen of oure kynde All oure synnes for to sesse thi sone thou beseke, With mercy to mende vs of mys. Judeus 2 Sen thou, lady, come of oure kynne, THou helpe vs nowe thou veray virginne, THat we may be broght vnto blisse. Mary Jesu my sone, for my sake beseke I the this, As thou arte gracious and grete God thou graunte me thy grace. THei that is comen of my kynde and amende will there mys, Nowe specially thou thame spede and spare thame a space, And be ther belde, if thi willis be. And dere sone, whane I schall dye, I pray the than for thi mercy THe fende thou latte me noyot see. And also my blissid barne, if thi will be, I sadly beseke the my sone, for my sake, Men that are stedde stiffely in stormes or in see And are in will wittirly my worschippe to awake, And thanne nevenes my name in that nede, THou late thame not perissh nor spille. Of this bone my sone, at thi will, THou graunte me specially to spede. Also my bliste barne thou graunte me my bone, All that are in newe or in nede and nevenes me be name, I praie the sone for my sake thou socoure thame sone, In alle ther schoures that are scharpe thou shelde thame fro schame. And women also in thare childing, Nowe speciall thou thame spede, And if so be thei die in that drede To thi blisse thane baynly thou thame bringe. Jesus Marie my modir, thurgh the myght nowe of me For to make the in mynde with mirthe to be mending, THyne asking all haly here heete I nowe the. But modir, the fende muste be nedis at thyne endyng In figoure full foule for to fere the. Myne aungelis schall thane be aboute the, And therfore dere dame thou thar noyot doute the, For douteles thi dede schall noyot dere the. And therfore my modir come myldely to me, For aftir the sonne my sande will I sende, And to sitte with myselfe all solas to se In ay-lastand liffe in likyng to lende. In this blisse schall be thi bilding, Of mirth schall thou neuere haue missing But euermore abide in my blissing, All this schall thou haue at thi welding. Mary I thanke the my swete sone, for certis I am seke, I may noyot now meve me for mercie almoste To the, sone myne that made me, thi maiden so meke; Here thurgh thi grace, god sone, I giffe the my goste. Mi sely saule I the sende To heuene that is highest on heghte, To the, sone myne that moste is of myght, Ressayue it here into thyne hende. Jesus Myne aungellis louely of late, lighter than the levene, Into the erthe wightly I will that yoe wende And bringe me my modir to the highest of heuene, With mirthe and with melody hir mode for to mende, For here schall hir blisse neuer be blynnande. Mi modir schall myldely be me Sitte nexte the high trinité, And neuere in two to be twynnand. Angel 1 Lorde, atte thi bidding full bayne will I be, THat floure that neuere was fadid full fayne will we fette. Angel 2 And atte thi will, gode lorde, wirke will we With solace on ilke side that semely vmsitte. Angel 3 Latte vs fonde to hir faste hir fors to deffende, THat birde for to bringe vnto this blis bright. Body and sawle we schall hir assende To regne in this regally be regentté full right. Angel 4 To blisse that birde for to bringe Nowe Gabriell late vs wightly be wendand. This maiden mirthe to be mendand A semely song latte vs sing. Play 45Thomas In waylyng and weping, in woo am I wapped, In site and in sorowe, in sighing full sadde. Mi lorde and my luffe, loo, full lowe is he lapped, THat makes me to mourne nowe full mate and full madde. What harling and what hurlyng that hedesman he hadde, What breking of braunches ware brosten aboute hym, What bolnyng with betyng of brothellis full badde; Itt leres me full lely to loue hym and lowte hym, That comely to kenne. Goddis sone Jesus He died for vs, THat makes me thus To mourne amange many men. Emange men may I mourne for the malice thei mente To Jesus the gentillest of Jewes generacioun. Of wisdome and witte were the waies that he wente THat drewe all tho domesmen derffe indignacioun, For douteles full dere was his diewe dominacioun. Vnkyndely thei kidde them ther kyng for to kenne With carefull comforth and colde recreacioun, For he mustered his miracles amonge many men And to the pepull he preched. But the Pharases fers All his resouns revers, And to ther hedesmen rehers THat vntrewe were the tales that he teched. He teched full trewe, but the tirauntes were tened. For he reproued ther pride thai purposed thame preste To mischeue hym, with malis in there mynde haue thei menyd, And to accuse hym of cursednesse the caistiffis has caste. Ther rancoure was raised, no renke might it reste, THai toke hym with treasoune, that turtill of treuthe, THei fedde hym with flappes, with fersnesse hym feste, To rugge hym, to riffe hym; ther reyned no rewthe. Vndewly thei demed hym: THei dusshed hym, thei dasshed hym, THei lusshed hym, thei lasshed hym, THei pusshed hym, thei passhed hym, All sorowe thei saide that it semed hym. Itt semed hym all sorowe, thei saide in ther seggyng. THei skippid and scourged hym-he skapid not-with scornes; THat he was leder and lorde in there lawe lay no leggyng, But thrange on and thristed a croune of thik thornes. Ilk tag of that turtill so tatterid and torne es That that blissid body blo is and bolned for betyng, YOitt the hedesmen to hynge hym with huge hydous hornes As brothellis or bribours were belyng and bletyng: `Crucifie hym' thei cried. Sone Pilate in parlement Of Jesus gaffe jugement, To hynge hym the harlottis hym hente; THer was no deide of that domesman denyed. Denyed not that domesman to deme hym to dede, THat frendly faire foode that neuere offended. THei hied thame in haste than to hynge vppe there heede, What woo that thei wroghte hym no wiyot wolde haue wende it. His true titill thei toke thame no tome for to attende it, But as a traitour atteynted thei toled hym and tuggid hym, THei schonte for no schoutis his schappe for to schende it, THei rasid hym on rode als full rasely thei rugged hym. THei persed hym with a spere, THat the blode riall To the erthe gun fall, In redempcion of all THat his lele lawes likis to lere. To lere he that likis of his lawe that is lele Mai fynde in oure frende here full faithfull feste, THat wolde hynge thus on hight to enhaunce vs in hele And by vs fro bondage by his bloode that is beste. THan the comforte of oure companye in kares were keste, But that lorde so allone wolde not leffe vs full longe. On the thirde day he rose riyot with his renkis to reste, Both flessh and fell fersly that figour gon fange And to my brethir gonne appere. THai tolde me of this Bot I leued amys, To rise flesshly iwis Methought that it paste mans poure. But the poure of that prince was presiously previd Whan that souerayne schewed hymselffe to my siyot. To mene of his manhode my mynde was all meued, But that reuerent redused me be resoune and be riyot. THe woundes full wide of that worthy wight He frayned me to fele thame my faith for to feste, And so I did douteless, and doune I me diyot- I bende my bak for to bowe and obeyed hym for beste. So sone he assendid Mi felaus in feere Ware sondered sere, If thai were here Mi myrthe were mekill amended Amendid were my mirthe with that meyné to mete. Mi felaus in fere for to fynde woll I fonde, I schall nott stedde in no stede but in stall and in strete Grath me be gydis to gette thame on grounde. O souerayne, how sone am I sette here so sounde! THis is the Vale of Josophat in Jury so gente. I will steme of my steuene and sted here a stounde, For I am wery for walkyng the waies that I wente Full wilsome and wide. THerfore I kaste Here for to reste, I halde it beste To buske on this banke for to bide. Surge Proxima Surge, proxima mea, columba mea, tabernaculum glorie, vasculum vite, templum celeste. Angel 1 Rise Marie, thou maiden and modir so milde. Angel 2 Rise, lilly full lusty, thi luffe is full likand. Angel 3 Rise, chefteyne of chastité in chering thi childe. Angel 4 Rise, rose ripe redolent, in reste to be reynand. Angel 5 Rise, douffe of that domesman all dedis is demand. Angel 6 Rise turtour, tabernacle, and tempull full trewe. Angel 7 Rise, semely in sight, of thi sone to be semande. Angel 8 Rise, grathed full goodely in grace for to grewe. Angel 9 Rise vppe this stounde. Angel 10 Come chosen childe. Angel 11 Come Marie milde. Angel 12 Come floure vnfiled. Angel 8 Come vppe to the kyng to be crouned. Veni de Libano Veni de Libano sponsa, veni, corona beris. Thomas O glorious God what glemes are glydand, I meve in my mynde what may this bemene? I see a berde borne in blisse to be bidand With aungelus companye, comely and clene. Many selcouth sitis in sertis haue I sene, But this mirthe and this melody mengis my mode. Mary Thomas, do way all thi doutes bedene, For I ame foundynge fourthe to my faire fode I telle the this tyde. Thomas Who, my souerayne lady? Mary YOa, sertis I saie the. Thomas Whedir wendes thou I praye the? Mary To blisse with my barne for to bide. Thomas To bide with thy barne in blisse to be beldand? Hayle jentilest of Jesse in Jewes generacioun, Haile welthe of this worlde all welthis is weldand, Haile hendest, enhaunsed to high habitacioun, Haile, derworth and dere is thi diewe dominacioun, Haile floure fressh florisshed, thi frewte is full felesome, Haile sete of oure saveour and sege of saluacioun, Haile happy to helde to, thi helpe is full helesome. Haile pereles in plesaunce, Haile precious and pure, Haile salue that is sure, Haile lettir of langure, Haile bote of oure bale in obeyesaunce. Mary Go to thi brethir that in bale are abiding, And of what wise to welthe I ame wendande Withoute tarying thou telle thame this tithynge, THer mirthe so besse mekill amendande. For Thomas, to me were thei tendande Whanne I drewe to the dede, all but thou. Thomas Bot I lady? Whillis in lande I ame lendande Obeye the full baynly my bones will I bowe. Bot I, allas! Whare was I thanne When that barette beganne? An vnhappy manne Both nowe and euere I was. Vnhappy, vnhende am I holden at home; What drerye destonye me drewe fro that dede? Mary Thomas, sesse of thy sorowe for I am sothly the same. Thomas THat wote I wele, the worthiest that wrapped is in wede. Mary THanne spare nott a space nowe my speche for to spede, Go saie them sothely thou sawe me assendinge. Thomas Now douteles, derworthy, I dare not for drede, For to my tales that I telle thei are not attendinge, For no spelle that is spoken. Mary I schall the schewe A token trewe Full fresshe of hewe, My girdill, loo, take thame this tokyn. Thomas I thanke the as reuerent rote of oure reste, I thanke the as stedfast stokke for to stande, I thanke the as tristy tre for to treste, I thanke the as buxsom bough to the bande, I thanke the as leeffe the lustiest in lande, I thanke the as bewteuous braunche for to bere, I thanke the as floure that neuere is fadande, I thanke the as frewte that has fedde vs in fere, I thanke the for euere. If thay repreue me Now schall thei leue me. THi blissinge giffe me And douteles I schall do my deuere. Mary Thomas, to do thanne thy deuere be dressand, He bid the his blissinge that beldis aboven. And in siyotte of my sone ther is sittand Shall I knele to that comely with croune, THat who in dispaire be dale or be doune With pitevous playnte in perellis will pray me, If he swynke or swete in swelte or in swoune, I schall sewe to my souerayne sone for to say me He schall graunte thame ther grace. Be it manne in his mournyng Or womanne in childinge, All thes to be helpinge THat prince schall I praye in that place. Thomas Gramercy the goodliest grounded in grace, Gramercy the lufliest lady of lire, Gramercy the fairest in figure and face, Gramercy the derrest to do oure desire. Mary Farewele, nowe I passe to the pereles empire. Farewele Thomas, I tarie no tyde here. Thomas Farewele thou schynyng schappe that schyniste so schire, Farewele the belle of all bewtes to bide here, Farewele thou faire foode. Farewele the keye of counsaile, Farewele all this worldes wele, Farewele oure hope and oure hele, Farewele nowe, both gracious and goode. Veni Electa Veni, electa mea et ponam in te thronum meum, quia concupivit rex speciem tuam. Thomas That I mette with this may here my mirthe is amend. I will hy me in haste and holde that I haue hight, To bere my brethir this boodeword my bak schall I bende And saie thame in certayne the soth of this sight. Be dale and be doune schall I dresse me to diyot To I fynde of this felawschippe faithfull in fere, I schall renne and reste not to ransake full right. Lo, the menyoe I mente of I mete thame even here At hande. God saffe yoou in feere, Say brethir, what chere? Peter What dois thou here? THou may nowe of thi gatis be gangand. Thomas Why dere brethir, what bale is begune? Peter Thomas, I telle the that tene is betidde vs. Thomas Me forthinkith for my frendis that faithfull are foune. Jacobus YOa, but in care litill kyndnes thou kid vs. Andrew His bragge and his boste is he besie to bid vs, But and ther come any cares he kepis not to kenne. We may renne till we raue or any ruth rid vs For the frenschippe he fecched vs, be frith or be fenne. Thomas Sirs, me meruailes, I saie yowe, What mevis in youre mynde. John We can wele fynde THou arte vnkynde. Thomas Nowe pees thanne, and preue it I pray yowe. Peter THat thou come not to courte here vnkyndynes thou kid vs, Oure treuth has of-turned vs to tene and to traye. THis yere haste thou rakid, thi reuth wolde not ridde vs, For witte thou wele that worthy is wente on hir waye. In a depe denne dede is scho doluen this daye, Marie that maiden and modir so milde. Thomas I wate wele iwis. Jacobus Thomas, do way. Andrew Itt forse noyot to frayne hym, he will not be filde. Thomas Sirs, with hir haue I spoken Lattar thanne yee. John THat may not bee. Thomas Yis, knelyng on kne. Peter THanne tite can thou telle vs some token? Thomas Lo this token full tristy scho toke me to take youe. Jacobus A, Thomas, whare gate thou that girdill so gode? Thomas Sirs, my message is meuand some mirthe for to make youe, For founding flesshly I fande hir till hir faire foode, And when I mette with that maiden it mendid my mode. Hir sande has scho sente youe, so semely to see. Andrew Ya, Thomas, vnstedfaste full staring thou stode- THat makis thi mynde nowe full madde for to be. But herken and here nowe; Late vs loke where we laid hir, If any folke haue affraied hir. John Go we groppe wher we graued hir, If we fynde ouyote that faire one, in fere nowe. Peter Behalde nowe hidir youre hedis in haste, THis glorious and goodely is gone fro this graue. Thomas Loo, to my talking ye toke youe no tente for to traste. Jacobus A, Thomas, vntrewly nowe trespassed we haue. Mercy full kyndely we crie and we craue. Andrew Mercye, for foule haue we fautid in faye. John Mercye we praye the, we will not depraue. Peter Mercye for dedis we did the this daye. Thomas Oure saueour so swete Forgiffe you all, And so I schall. THis tokyn tall Haue I brought yowe youre bales to beete. Peter Itt is welcome iwis fro that worthy wight, For it was wonte for to wappe that worthy virgine. Jacobus Itt is welcome iwis fro that lady so light, For hir wombe wolde scho wrappe with it and were it with wynne. Andrew Itt is welcome iwis fro that saluer of synne, For scho bende it aboute hir with blossome so bright. John Itt is welcome iwis fro the keye of oure kynne, For aboute that reuerent it rechid full right. Peter Nowe knele we ilkone Vpponne oure kne. Jacobus To that lady free. Andrew Blissid motte sche be, YOa, for scho is lady lufsome allone. Thomas Nowe brethir, bese besie and buske to be bownand. To Ynde will I torne me and trauell to teche. Peter And to Romans so royall tho renkis to be rownand Will I passe fro this place my pepull to preche. Jacobus And I schall Samaritanus so sadly enserche, To were tham be wisdome thei wirke not in waste. Andrew And I to Achaia full lely that lede for to leche Will hy me to helpe thame and hele thame in haste. John THis comenaunt accordis; Sirs, sen yoe will soo Me muste nedis parte youe froo, To Assia will I goo. He lede yoou, that lorde of all lordis. Thomas The lorde of all lordis in lande schall he lede youe Whillis yoe trauell in trouble the trewthe for to teche. With frewte of oure feithe in firthe schall we fede youe For that laboure is lufsome ilke lede for to leche. Nowe I passe fro youre presence the pepull to preche, To lede thame and lere thame the lawe of oure lorde. As I saide, vs muste asoundre and sadly enserche Ilke contré to kepe clene and knytte in o corde Off oure faithe. THat frelye foode THat died on rode With mayne and moode He grath yowe be gydis full grath. Surge Propera Mea Surge propera mea, columba mea, tabernaculum glorie, vasculum vite, templum celeste. Veni de Libano Veni de libano sponsa, veni corona beris. Veni Electa Veni electa mea et ponam thronum meum quia concupivit speciem tuam. Play 46Jesus Myne aungellis that are bright and schene, On my message take ye the waye Vnto Marie, my modir clene, THat berde is brighter than the daye. Grete hir wele haly bedene, An to that semely schall yoe saye Off heuene I haue hir chosen quene, In joie and blisse that laste schall aye. I wille yoou saie what I haue thoughte And why that yoe schall tille hir wende, I will hir body to me be brought To beilde in blisse withouten ende. Mi flesshe of hir in erthe was tone; Vnkindely thing it were iwis, THat scho schulde bide be hire allone And I beilde here so high in blis. Forthy tille hir than schall yoe fare Full frendlye for to fecche hir hedir, THere is no thyng that I loue more, In blisse thanne schall we belde togedir. Angel 1 O blisfull lorde nowe moste of myght, We are redye with all oure myght Thy bidding to fulfille, To thi modir that maiden free, Chosen cheffe of chastité, As it is thy wille. Angel 2 Off this message we are full fayne, We are redy with myght and mayne, Bothe be day and be nyght. Heuene and erthe nowe gladde may be, THat frely foode nowe for to see In whome that thou did light. Angel 3 Lorde Jesu Criste, oure gouernoure, We are all boune atte thi bidding, With joie and blisse and grete honnoure, We schall thi modir to the bringe. Angel 4 Hayle, the doughtir of blissid Anne, THe whiche consayued thurgh the holy goste, And thou brought forthe both God and manne, The whiche felled doune the fendis boste. Angel 5 Haile, roote of risse, that fourthe brought THat blissid floure oure saueoure, The whiche that made mankynde of noght And brought hym vppe into his toure. Angel 6 Of the allone he wolde be borne Into this worlde of wrecchidnesse, To saue mankynde that was forlorne And bringe thame oute of grete distresse. Angel 1 THou may be gladde bothe day and nyght To se thy sone oure saueoure, He will the croune nowe, lady bright, THou blissid modir and faire floure. Angel 2 Marie, modir and mayden clene, Chosen cheffe vnto thi childe, Of heuene and erthe thou arte quene; Come vppe nowe lady, meke and mylde. Angel 3 THi sone has sente vs aftir the To bringe the nowe vnto his blisse, THer schall thou belde and blithe be, Of joie and mirthe schall thou noyot misse. Angel 4 For in his blisse withouten ende, THere schall thou alkynne solas see, THi liffe in likyng for to lende With thi dere sone in trinité. Mary A, blissid be God, fadir all-weldand, Hymselffe wottith best what is to doo. I thanke hym with harte and hande, THat thus his blisse wolde take me too, And yoou also his aungellis bright THat fro my sone to me is sente, I am redy with all my myght For to fulfille his comaundement. Angel 5 Go we nowe thou worthi wight Vnto thi sone that is so gente, We schall the bringe into his sight To croune the quene, thus hase he mente. Angel 6 Alle heuene and erthe schall worschippe the And baynnely be at thi biddinge, Thy joie schall euere incressid be, Of solas sere than schall thou synge. Angel 1 Jesu, lorde and heueneis kyng, Here is thi modir thou aftir sente, We haue her brought at thi biddynge, Take hir to the as thou haste mente. Mary Jesu my sone, loved motte thou be, I thanke the hartely in my thought THat this wise ordand is for me, And to this blisse thou haste me broght. Jesus Haile be thou Marie, maiden bright, THou arte my modir and I thy sone, With grace and goodnesse arte thou dight, With me in blisse ay schall thou wonne. Nowe schall thou haue that I the hight, Thy tyme is paste of all thi care, Wirschippe schall the aungellis bright, Of newe schall thou witte neuere more. Mary Jesu my sone, loued motte thou be, I thanke the hartely in my thoyot, THat on this wise ordand is for me, And to this blisse thou has me broght. Jesus Come forth with me my modir bright, Into my blisse we schall assende To wonne in welthe, thou worthi wight, That neuere more schall it haue ende. Thi newis, modir, to neuen thame nowe, Are turned to joie, and soth it is All aungellis bright thei schall the bowe And worschippe the worthely iwis. For mekill joie, modir, had thou Whan Gabriell grette the wele be this, And tolde the tristely for to trowe THou schulde consayue the kyng of blisse. Nowe maiden meke and modir myne, Itt was full mekill myrthe to the THat I schuld ligge in wombe of thine Thurgh gretyng of an aungell free. The secounde joie, modir, was syne Withouten payne whan thou bare me; The thirde aftir my bittir peyne Fro dede on lyve thou sawe me be. The fourthe was when I stied vppe right To heuene vnto my fadir dere- My modir, when thou saugh that sight, To the it was a solas seere. THis is the fifte thou worthy wight, Of the jois this has no pere, Nowe schall thou belde in blisse so bright For euer and ay, I highte the here, For thou arte cheffe of chastité, Off all women thou beris the floure; Nowe schalle thou, lady, belde with me In blisse that schall euere indowre Full high on highte in magesté, With all worshippe and all honnoure, Wher we schall euere samen be Beldand in oure bigly boure. Alle-kynnys swetnesse is therin THat manne vppon may thynke, or wiffe, With joie and blisse that neuere schall blynne THer schall thou, lady, lede thy liffe. THou schalte be worshippid with honnoures In heuene blisse that is so bright, With martiris and with confessouris, With all virginis, thou worthy wight. Before all othere creatours I schall the giffe both grace and might, In heuene and erthe to sende socoures To all that seruis the day and nyght. I graunte thame grace with all my myght, Thurgh askyng of thi praier, THat to the call be day or nyght. In what disease so that thei are. THou arte my liffe and my lekyng, Mi modir and my mayden schene; Ressayue this croune my dere darlyng, THer I am kyng thou schalte be quene. Myne aungellis bright, a songe yoe singe In the honnoure of my modir dere, And here I giffe yoou my blissing Haly nowe, all in fere. Play 46AJesus Hayle, fulgent Phebus and fader eternall, Parfite plasmator and God omnipotent, Be whos will and power perpetuall All thinges hath influence and beyng verament. To the I giffe louyng and laude right excellent, And to the sperite also, graunter of all grace, Whilke by thi woorde and thi warke omnipotent I am thi sonne and equale in that case. O sapor suauitatis, o succour and solace, O life eternall and luffer of chastité, Whome aungels abowne and the erthe in his grete space And all thinges create loues in magesté. Remembre, fader meke, in thi solempnyté The woundes of thi sonne, whilke by thy providence THou made discende frome thyne equalité Into the wombe of Marye, be meke obedience. Of a virgin inviolate for mans iniquyté, Whilke for his synne stoode mekill fro thi grace, Be hoole assente of thi solempnité THou made me incarnate, and trulie man I was. Wherefore too spede me here in this space, THou here me fader, hertely I the praye, As for my moder truely in this case THou here thi sonne, and herk what I shall saye. Me semes mysilfe it is right grete offence My moder wombe in erthe sulde putrifye, Sen hir flessh and myne were bothe oone in escence, I had none othir bot of hir truely. She is my moder to whome legem adimpleui Whilke thou has ordinate as by thi prouidence. Graunte me thi grace, I the beseke hertely, As for the tyme of hir meke innocence, In woorde ne dede thoght the neuer to offende, Sho myght be assumpt, I pray thyne excellence, Vnto thi troone, and so to be commende, In bodye and saule euer withoutyn ende With the to reyne in thyne eternyté, Fro sorrowe and sadnesse synners to offende. O flagraunt fader, graunte yt myght so be. God O lampe of light, o lumen eternall, O coequale sonne, o verrey sapience, O mediator ande meen and lyfe perpetuall, In whome of derk clowedes may haue none accidence- Thoue knawes right wele by thy providence I haue commyt my powere generall, Tibi data potestas, ande plenall influence. Thou ert my sonne... Play 47God Firste when I this worlde hadde wroght- Woode and wynde and wateris wan, And all-kynne thyng that nowe is oght- Fulle wele methoght that I did thanne. Whenne thei were made, goode me thame thoght; Sethen to my liknes made I man And man to greue me gaffe he noght, THerfore me rewis that I the worlde began. Whanne I had made man at my will, I gaffe hym wittis hymselue to wisse, And paradise I putte hym till And bad hym halde it all as his. But of the tree of goode and ill I saide, `What tyme thou etis of this, Manne, thou spedes thiselue to spill- THou arte broght oute of all blissé. Belyue brak manne my bidding. He wende haue bene a god therby; He wende haue wittyne of all-kynne thyng, In worlde to haue bene als wise as I. He ete the appill I badde schulde hyng, THus was he begilid thurgh glotony; Sithen both hym and his ospring To pyne I putte thame all forthy. To lange and late methoghte it goode To catche thois caitiffis oute of care. I sente my sone with full blithe moode Till erthe, to salue thame of thare sare. For rewthe of thame he reste on roode And boughte thame with his body bare; For thame he shedde his harte-bloode- What kyndinesse myght I do thame mare? Sethen aftirwarde he heryed hell And toke oute thois wrecchis that ware thareinne; THer faughte that free with feendis feele For thame that ware sounkyn for synne. Sethen in erthe than gonne he dwelle, Ensaumpill he gaue thame heuene to wynne, In tempill hymselffe to teche and tell, To by thame blisse that neuere may blynne. Sethen haue thei founde me full of mercye, Full of grace and forgiffenesse, And thei als wrecchis, wittirly, Has ledde ther liffe in lithirnesse. Ofte haue thei greued me greuously, THus haue thei quitte me my kyndinesse; THerfore no lenger, sekirlye, Thole will I thare wikkidnesse. Men seis the worlde but vanité, YOitt will no manne beware therby; Ilke a day ther mirroure may thei se, YOitt thynke thei noyot that thei schall dye. All that euere I saide schulde be Is nowe fulfillid thurgh prophicie, Therfore nowe is it tyme to me To make endyng of mannes folie. I haue tholed mankynde many a yoere In luste and likyng for to lende, And vnethis fynde I ferre or nere A man that will his misse amende. In erthe I see butte synnes seere, Therfore myne aungellis will I sende To blawe ther bemys, that all may here The tyme is comen I will make ende. Aungellis, blawes youre bemys belyue, Ilke a creatoure for to call, Leerid and lewde, both man and wiffe, Ressayue ther dome this day thei schall, Ilke a leede that euere hadde liffe- Bese none forgetyn, grete ne small. Ther schall thei see the woundes fyve THat my sone suffered for them all. And sounderes thame before my sight, All same in blisse schall thei not be. Mi blissid childre, as I haue hight, On my right hande I schall thame see; Sethen schall ilke a weried wight On my lifte side for ferdnesse flee. THis day ther domys thus haue I dight To ilke a man as he hath serued me. Angel 1 Loued be thou, lorde of myghtis moste, THat aungell made to messengere. Thy will schall be fulfillid in haste, THat heuene and erthe and helle schalle here. Goode and ill, euery-ilke a gaste, Rise and fecche youre flessh that was youre feere, For all this worlde is broght to waste. Drawes to youre dome, it neghes nere. Angel 2 Ilke a creature, bothe olde and yhing, Belyue I bidde yoou that yoe ryse; Body and sawle with yoou yoe bring, And comes before the high justise. For I am sente fro heuene kyng To calle yoou to this grette assise, THerfore rise vppe and geue rekenyng How yoe hym serued vppon sere wise. Good Soul 1 Loued be thou lorde, that is so schene, THat on this manere made vs to rise, Body and sawle togedir, clene, To come before the high justise. Of oure ill dedis, lorde, thou not mene, That we haue wroght vppon sere wise, But graunte vs for thy grace bedene THat we may wonne in paradise. Good Soul 2 A, loued be thou, lorde of all, THat heuene and erthe and all has wroght, THat with thyne aungellis wolde vs call Oute of oure graues hidir to be broght. Ofte haue we greued the, grette and small, THeraftir lorde thou deme vs noght, Ne suffir vs neuere to fendis to be thrall, THat ofte in erthe with synne vs soght. Bad Soul 1 Allas, allas, that we were borne, So may we synfull kaytiffis say; I here wele be this hydous horne Itt drawes full nere to domesday. Allas, we wrecchis that are forlorne, THat never yoitt serued God to paye, But ofte we haue his flessh forsworne- Allas, allas, and welaway. What schall we wrecchis do for drede, Or whedir for ferdnes may we flee, When we may bringe forthe no goode dede Before hym that oure juge schall be? To aske mercy vs is no nede, For wele I wotte dampned be we, Allas, that we swilke liffe schulde lede THat dighte vs has this destonye. Oure wikkid werkis thei will vs wreye, THat we wende never schuld haue bene weten, THat we did ofte full pryuely, Appertely may we se them wreten. Allas, wrecchis, dere mon we by- Full smerte with helle fyre be we smetyn. Nowe mon neuere saule ne body dye, But with wikkid peynes euermore be betyne. Allas, for drede sore may we quake, Oure dedis beis oure dampnacioune. For oure mys menyng mon we make, Helpe may none excusacioune. We mon be sette for oure synnes sake Foreuere fro oure saluacioune, In helle to dwelle with feendes blake, Wher neuer schall be redempcioune. Bad Soul 2 Als carefull caitiffis may we ryse, Sore may we wringe oure handis and wepe; For cursidnesse and for covetise Dampned be we to helle full depe. Rought we neuere of Goddis seruise, His comaundementis wolde we noyot kepe, But ofte than made we sacrafise To Satanas when othir slepe. Allas, now wakens all oure were, Oure wikkid werkis may we not hide, But on oure bakkis vs muste them bere- Thei wille vs wreye on ilke a side. I see foule feendis that wille vs feere, And all for pompe of wikkid pride. Wepe we may with many a teere, Allas, that we this day schulde bide. Before vs playnly bese fourth brought THe dedis that vs schall dame bedene; THat eres has herde, or harte has thoght, Sen any tyme that we may mene, THat fote has gone or hande has wroght, That mouthe hath spoken or ey has sene- THis day full dere thanne bese it boght; Allas, vnborne and we hadde bene. Angel 3 Standis noght togedir, parte you in two! All sam schall yoe noght be in blisse; Oure fadir of heuene woll it be soo, For many of yowe has wroght amys. THe goode on his right hande yoe goe, THe way till heuene he will you wisse; YOe weryed wightis, yoe flee hym froo On his lefte hande as none of his. God THis woffull worlde is brought till ende, Mi fadir of heuene he woll it be; THerfore till erthe nowe will I wende Miselue to sitte in magesté. To deme my domes I woll descende; THis body will I bere with me- Howe it was dight, mannes mys to mende, All mankynde there schall it see. Mi postelis and my darlyngis dere, THe dredfull dome this day is dight. Both heuen and erthe and hell schall here Howe I schall holde that I haue hight: That yoe schall sitte on seetis sere Beside myselffe to se that sight, And for to deme folke ferre and nere Aftir ther werkyng, wronge or right. I saide also whan I you sente To suffre sorowe for my sake, All tho that wolde thame right repente Shulde with you wende and wynly wake; And to youre tales who toke no tente Shulde fare to fyre with fendis blake. Of mercy nowe may noyot be mente, Butt, aftir wirkyng, welth or wrake. My hetyng haly schall I fullfille, Therfore comes furth and sittis me by To here the dome of goode and ill. 1Apostle 1 I loue the, lord God allmyghty; Late and herely, lowde and still, To do thy bidding bayne am I. I obblissh me to do thi will With all my myght, als is worthy. 2Apostle 2 A, myghtfull God, here is it sene THou will fulfille thi forward right, And all thi sawes thou will maynteyne. I loue the, lorde, with all my myght, THat for vs that has erthely bene Swilke dingnitees has dressed and dight. God Comes fourthe, I schall sitte yoou betwene, And all fullfille that I haue hight. 1Diabolus 1 Felas, arraye vs for to fight, And go we faste oure fee to fange. THe dredefull dome this day is dight- I drede me that we dwelle full longe. 2Diabolus 2 We schall be sene euere in ther sight And warly waite, ellis wirke we wrange, For if the domisman do vs right, Full grete partie with vs schall gang. 3Diabolus 3 He schall do right to foo and frende, For nowe schall all the soth be sought. All weried wightis with vs schall wende, To payne endles thei schall be broght. [... ...] God Ilke a creature, takes entent What bodworde I to you bringe: THis wofull worlde away is wente, And I am come as crouned kynge. Mi fadir of heuene, he has me sente To deme youre dedis and make ending. Comen is the day of jugement; Of sorowe may ilke a synfull synge. The day is comen of kaydyfnes, All tham to care that are vnclene, THe day of bale and bittirnes- Full longe abedyn has it bene; THe day of drede to more and lesse, Of ire, of trymbelyng, and of tene, THat ilke a wight that weried is May say, `Allas, this daye is sené. Here may yoe see my woundes wide, THe whilke I tholed for youre mysdede. Thurgh harte and heed, foote, hande and hide, Nought for my gilte, butt for youre nede. Beholdis both body, bak and side, How dere I bought youre brotherhede. THes bittir peynes I wolde abide- To bye you blisse thus wolde I bleede. Mi body was scourged withouten skill, As theffe full thraly was I thrette; On crosse thei hanged me, on a hill, Blody and bloo, as I was bette, With croune of thorne throsten full ill. THis spere vnto my side was sette- Myne harte-bloode spared noght thei for to spill; Manne, for thy loue wolde I not lette. THe Jewes spitte on me spitously, THei spared me no more than a theffe. Whan thei me strake I stode full stilly, Agaynste tham did I nothyng greue. Behalde, mankynde, this ilke is I, THus was I dight for thy folye- Man, loke, thy liffe was to me full leffe. THus was I dight thi sorowe to slake; Manne, thus behoued the to borowed be. In all my woo toke I no wrake, Mi will itt was for the loue of the. Man, sore aught the for to quake, THis dredfull day this sight to see. All this I suffered for thi sake- Say, man, what suffered thou for me? My blissid childre on my right hande, Youre dome this day yoe thar not drede, For all youre comforte is command, Youre liffe in likyng schall yoe lede. Commes to the kyngdome ay-lastand THat yoou is dight for youre goode dede, Full blithe may yoe be where yoe stande, For mekill in heuene schall be youre mede. Whenne I was hungery yoe me fedde, To slake my thirste youre harte was free; Whanne I was clothles yoe me cledde, YOe wolde no sorowe vppon me see. In harde presse whan I was stedde, Of my payns yoe hadde pitee; Full seke whan I was brought in bedde, Kyndely yoe come to coumforte me. Whanne I was wille and werieste YOe herbered me full hartefully; Full gladde thanne were yoe of youre geste, And pleyned my pouerté piteuously. Belyue yoe brought me of the beste And made my bedde full esyly, THerfore in heuene schall be youre reste, In joie and blisse to be me by. Good Soul 1 Whanne hadde we, lorde that all has wroght, Meete and drinke the with to feede, Sen we in erthe hadde neuere noght But thurgh the grace of thy Godhede? Good Soul 2 Whanne waste that we the clothes brought, Or visite the in any nede, Or in thi sikenes we the sought? Lorde, when did we the this dede? God Mi blissid childir, I schall yoou saye What tyme this dede was to me done: When any that nede hadde, nyght or day, Askid yoou helpe and hadde it sone. Youre fre hartis saide them neuere nay, Erely ne late, mydday ne none, But als ofte-sithis as thei wolde praye, THame thurte but bide and haue ther bone. YOe cursid caytiffis of Kaymes kynne, THat neuere me comforte in my care, I and yoe foreuer will twynne, In dole to dwelle for euermare. Youre bittir bales schall neuere blynne THat yoe schall haue when yoe come thare; THus haue yoe serued for youre synne, For derffe dedis yoe haue done are. Whanne I had mistir of mete and drynke, Caytiffis, yoe cacched me fro youre yoate. Whanne yoe wer sette as sirs on benke, I stode theroute, werie and wette; Was none of yowe wolde on me thynke, Pyté to haue of my poure state, THerfore till hell I schall you synke- Weele are yoe worthy to go that gate. Whanne I was seke and soriest YOe visitte me noght, for I was poure; In prisoune faste whan I was feste Was none of you loked howe I fore. Whenne I wiste neuere where for to reste, With dyntes yoe draffe me fro your dore, Butte euer to pride thanne were yoe preste, Mi flessh, my bloode, ofte yoe forswore. Clothles whanne I was ofte, and colde, At nede of you, yoede I full naked; House ne herborow, helpe ne holde Hadde I none of you, thof I quaked. Mi mischeffe sawe ye manyfolde, Was none of you my sorowe slaked, Butt euere forsoke me, yonge and alde, THerfore schall yoe nowe be forsaked. Bad Soul 1 Whan had thou, lorde that all thing has, Hungir or thirste, sen thou God is? Whan was that thou in prisoune was? Whan was thou naked or herberles? Bad Soul 2 Whan was it we sawe the seke, allas? Whan kid we the this vnkyndinesse? Werie or wette to late the passe, When did we the this wikkidnesse? God Caistiffis, als ofte als it betidde THat nedfull aught askid in my name, YOe herde them noght, youre eris yoe hidde, Youre helpe to thame was noyot at hame. To me was that vnkyndines kyd, THerfore ye bere this bittir blame; To leste or moste whan yoe it did, To me yoe did the selue and the same. Mi chosen childir, comes vnto me, With me to wonne nowe schall yoe wende THere joie and blisse schall euer be, YOoure liffe in lyking schall yoe lende. YOe cursed kaitiffis, fro me yoe flee, In helle to dwelle withouten ende, THer yoe schall neuere butt sorowe see And sitte be Satanas the fende. Nowe is fulfillid all my forthoght, For endid is all erthely thyng. All worldly wightis that I haue wroght, Aftir ther werkis haue nowe wonnyng. Thei that wolde synne and sessid noght, Of sorowes sere now schall thei syng, And thei that mendid thame whils thei moght Shall belde and bide in my blissing.