6. The Armourers' Play: The Expulsion

All creatures!  To me, be attent!
From God of Heaven I am sent,
Unto the wretches who wrongly went
To dwell in woe.
The joy of Heaven, that was them lent,
From them does go.

From them is lost both joy and glee.
He bade that they should masters be
Of everything, except one tree
That should them kill.
And thereto went both he and she,
Against his will.

Against his will thus they have wrought.
To grieve great God they cared right nought.
[They would not listen, as they ought];
That well know ye.
And so in sorrow they are caught,
As you shall see.

The fools who fell from faith!  Hear now!
Take heed to me before you go!
From God of heaven unto you
I am sent now		
To tell you both what kind of woe
Is made for you.

For us is made (Ah!  Must I say?)
Dole enduring night and day!
The wealth we would have had for ay
From us is gone.
To mourn for this misdeed, well we may
With each new dawn.

Adam, yourself made all this woe.
For to the tree you fast did go,
And boldly the fruit did bite, although
My Lord forbad.

Alas!  My wife I blame, for so
She to me said-

Adam!  Because you believed her tale,
He sends you word.  He says you shall
[Go forth from here, and for your fall]
Live ever in grief;
Awaiting long, in bitter bale,
For his relief.

Alas!  Wretches!  What have we wrought?
To such a bliss we both were brought;
[Each moment was a joy unsought]
While we were there!
We had enough.  Now we have naught.
Alas, for care.

Our cares have come, both keen and cold,
With horrid terrors manifold.
Alas!  That tyrant to me told,
With all his guile,
That we in hand all wealth should hold.
Alas, the while.

That "while" you worked but foolishly,
So to grieve God mightily.
And, therefore, you shall pay dearly
Before you go.
You both shall live, as is worthy,
In fear, and woe.

Adam, have this.  Look how you think;
[With sorrow you must sweat and swink],
And toil for all your food and drink
Forever more.

Alas!  For sorrow why might I not sink,
I am shamed so sore.

Sore are we shamed with sorrow severe;
And cruelly must we go from here.
Alas, that ever we came it near,
Unto that tree.
With sorrow now we pay, full dear,
For our ill deed.

Eve, because you tricked him so,
Labour you shall undergo.
Your babies to bear with pain and woe;
This do I say.
Obedient now shall you go
To man this day.

Alas!  For woe, what shall I do?
That I may never have rest, I rue!

Nay, this tale is told me, too,
Of labour's name!
Now are we ruined, I and she, too!
Alas, for shame!

Alas, for shame and sorrow sad;
Mourning makes me amazed and mad
To think in heart what help I had,
Who now has none.
On earth to walk, I'll not be glad;
My joys are gone.

Gone are my joys, as I do say.
Alas!  In bliss we could not stay.
Placed in Eden at dawn today,
With no travail,
By noon, we cast it all away;
So weep and wail!

So weep and wail, such pain we see.
All animals were friends to me;
Fish and fowl both willingly
With me would go.
And now, all beasts in enmity
Hold me their foe.

A foe on earth, I limp along
To suffer shame and sorrow strong;
All for one deed that I did wrong
Through wicked wile.
I think, indeed, I live too long.
Alas!  The while.

Ah, Lord, I ask, what thing is this	[That is, the spade-ed.]
That to me is given for my miss?
If I work wrong, who now teaches?
What is the way?
How best to work, so have I bliss,
I must assay.
Alas, for pain!  What can this be?
In world unwisely done have we!
The earth, it trembles for this tree,
And groans around!
All this world is wroth with me,
As I have found.

Full well I know my wealth is gone,
The earth, the weather, every one.
Sorrow comes when sin is done,
That I can see.
Never were wretches so pale and wan
As now are we.

We are well-deserving in this,
To have this mischeif for deeds amiss.
Placed we were in perfect bliss,
Forever to be.
My saddest sorrow now is this:
Myself to see.

To see us is a shameful sight.
We both, who were in bliss so bright,
Must now go naked, day and night,
Even so.
Alas, but woman's wit was light,
As now I know!

Yes, it was so, and grieves me sore.
But if the woman witless were,
Man's mastery should then have been more
Against this guilt!

Nay, at my speech you would not spare!
That has us spilt!

If ever I said a word to you,
[And urged you then this woe unto],
You should have taken heed thereto,
And turned my thought!

Be quiet, woman!  [The fault's in you,]
So name it not!

For to my bidding you would not be;
Therefore, my plague I now call thee.
Through your advice, outcast are we
In bitter bale!
May God let no man after me
Trust a woman's tale!

For surely I regret full sore
That ever I listened to your lore.
Your counsel casts me now in care,
As know you should!

Adam, stop.  Speak thus no more.
It does no good.

Too well I know I have done wrong.
In mourning I must limp along.
Alas!  The while I live, too long,
I wish to die.

On earth with joy I'll never belong;
With sorrow, I.

With sorrow I must go.
And slain I am by woe.
This tree I take myself, that so
Is sent to me.
May He that made us, now us show,
Where now go we.

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