The Cappers and Lynnan Drapers Playe
Incipit pagina quinta de Moyses et de lege sibi data.
Deus ad Moysen
Moyses, my servante leiffe and deare,
And all my people that bene heare,
Ye wotten, in Egipte when you were,
Out of thraldome I you broughte;
I will you have no God but me,
No false godes non make ye;
My name in vayne nam not ye,
For that liketh me naughte.
I will you houlde your holye daye,
And worshipe yt eke alwaie,
Father and mother, all that you maie,
And sleaye no man no where.
Moyses, my servante leiffe and deare,
And all my people that bene heare,
Ye wotten, in Egipte when you were,
Out of thraldome I you broughte;
I will you have no God but me,
No false godes non make ye;
My name in vayne nam not ye,
For that liketh me naughte.
I will you houlde your holye daye,
And worshipe yt eke alwaie,
Father and mother, all that you maie,
And sleaye no man no where.
Fornicacion you shall fleye;
No mens goodes steale ye;
Nor in no place leinge nor be
False wittnesse for to beare;
Your neightbours wyfe desyer you not,
Servante nor good that he hath boughte,
Oxe ner asse, in deede nor thoughte,
Nor nothinge that is his;
Nor wrongfullye to have his thinge
Againste his love or his likinge;
In all thes doe my byddinge,
That you doe not amisse.
No mens goodes steale ye;
Nor in no place leinge nor be
False wittnesse for to beare;
Your neightbours wyfe desyer you not,
Servante nor good that he hath boughte,
Oxe ner asse, in deede nor thoughte,
Nor nothinge that is his;
Nor wrongfullye to have his thinge
Againste his love or his likinge;
In all thes doe my byddinge,
That you doe not amisse.
Moyses
Good Lorde, that arte ever so good,
I will fulfill with mylde mode
Thy commaundment, for I stode
To heare thee nowe full still.
Foretye dayes nowe fasted have I,
That I mighte be the more whorthye
To learne this tocken trewlye;
Nowe will I worke thy will.
Godes folke, dread you naughte,
To prove that God hath us wroughte;
Thinke thes wordes in your thoughte;
Nowe knowe you what is synne.
By this sighte nowe ye maie see
That he is pearles of postie;
Therfore, this tocken loke doe ye,
Therof that ye ne blyne.
Good Lorde, that arte ever so good,
I will fulfill with mylde mode
Thy commaundment, for I stode
To heare thee nowe full still.
Foretye dayes nowe fasted have I,
That I mighte be the more whorthye
To learne this tocken trewlye;
Nowe will I worke thy will.
Tunc Moyses in monte dicat populo:
Godes folke, dread you naughte,
To prove that God hath us wroughte;
Thinke thes wordes in your thoughte;
Nowe knowe you what is synne.
By this sighte nowe ye maie see
That he is pearles of postie;
Therfore, this tocken loke doe ye,
Therof that ye ne blyne.
Docter
Lordinges, this commaundmente
Was the firste lawe that ever God sente;
Tenne poyntes their bene that takes intente,
That moste effecte is in;
But all that storye for to fonge,
To plaie this month it were to longe,
Therfore, moste frutfull ever amonge,
Shortlye we shall menne.
After we reden on this storye,
That in this mounte of Synaye,
God gave the lawe witterlye,
Wrytten with his hande.
Lordinges, this commaundmente
Was the firste lawe that ever God sente;
Tenne poyntes their bene that takes intente,
That moste effecte is in;
But all that storye for to fonge,
To plaie this month it were to longe,
Therfore, moste frutfull ever amonge,
Shortlye we shall menne.
After we reden on this storye,
That in this mounte of Synaye,
God gave the lawe witterlye,
Wrytten with his hande.
In stonnye tables, as red we,
Before men honoured mamentrye,
Moyses brake them hastelye,
For that he woulde not wonne;
But after, played as you shall see,
Other tables out carved he,
Which God bade wrytten shoulde be,
The wordes he sayde before;
The which tables shryned were
After, as God can Moyses leare,
And that shryne to hym was deare,
Therafter ever more.
Before men honoured mamentrye,
Moyses brake them hastelye,
For that he woulde not wonne;
But after, played as you shall see,
Other tables out carved he,
Which God bade wrytten shoulde be,
The wordes he sayde before;
The which tables shryned were
After, as God can Moyses leare,
And that shryne to hym was deare,
Therafter ever more.
Then God appeared again to Moyses
Deus
Moyses, my servante, goe anon,
And carve out of the rocke of stonne
Tables to wryte my byddinge one,
Such as thou had before:
And in the morninge loke thou hie
Unto the mounte of Synaye;
Let no man wotte, but thou onlye,
Of companye no more.
Moyses, my servante, goe anon,
And carve out of the rocke of stonne
Tables to wryte my byddinge one,
Such as thou had before:
And in the morninge loke thou hie
Unto the mounte of Synaye;
Let no man wotte, but thou onlye,
Of companye no more.
Moyses
Lorde, thy byddinge shalbe donno,
And tables carved out full sone;
But tell me, I praye thee,
What wordes I shall wryte.
Lorde, thy byddinge shalbe donno,
And tables carved out full sone;
But tell me, I praye thee,
What wordes I shall wryte.
Deus
Thou shalte wrytte the same lore
That in the tables was before,
Yt shalbe kepte for ever more,
For that is my delite.
Thou shalte wrytte the same lore
That in the tables was before,
Yt shalbe kepte for ever more,
For that is my delite.
Tunc Moyses faciet signum, quasi effoderet tabulas de monte, et super ipsas scribens dicat populo, et dicat:
Moyses
Godes people of Isarell,
Harcken all unto my spell,
God bade you shoulde kepe well
This that I shall saie;
Sixe daies bodelye worke all,
The seventh Sabaoth ye shall call,
That daie, for oughte that maie befall,
Hallowed shalbe for ever.
Godes people of Isarell,
Harcken all unto my spell,
God bade you shoulde kepe well
This that I shall saie;
Sixe daies bodelye worke all,
The seventh Sabaoth ye shall call,
That daie, for oughte that maie befall,
Hallowed shalbe for ever.
Whoe doth not this, dye shall he,
In howses for ever shall no man se.
Firste frutes to God offer ye,
For hym selfe byde,
Purple and kyse bouth towe,
To hym that shall save you from wo,
And helpe you in your nede.
In howses for ever shall no man se.
Firste frutes to God offer ye,
For hym selfe byde,
Purple and kyse bouth towe,
To hym that shall save you from wo,
And helpe you in your nede.
Tunc descendet de monte, et veniet rex Balacke equitando juxta montem, et dicat Balacke Rex
Balacke Rex
I, Balacke, kinge of Mobe lande,
All Isarell and I hande in hande;
I am so wroth, I woulde not wonne,
To slea them everye wighte.
For ther God helpes them so stowtlye,
Of other landes to have maisterye,
That yt is boutles witterlye
Againste them for to feighte.
What nacion doth them anoye,
Moyses prayeth anon in hie,
Then have the ever the victorye,
And their enemyes the worste;
Therfore I will wrocken me,
I am bethoughte, as mote I thee,
Balaaham shall come to me,
That people for to curse. fluryshe
I, Balacke, kinge of Mobe lande,
All Isarell and I hande in hande;
I am so wroth, I woulde not wonne,
To slea them everye wighte.
For ther God helpes them so stowtlye,
Of other landes to have maisterye,
That yt is boutles witterlye
Againste them for to feighte.
What nacion doth them anoye,
Moyses prayeth anon in hie,
Then have the ever the victorye,
And their enemyes the worste;
Therfore I will wrocken me,
I am bethoughte, as mote I thee,
Balaaham shall come to me,
That people for to curse. fluryshe
No sworde nor knife maye not avayle,
That same people for to assayle;
He that foundes to feighte shall fayle, Caste up
For sicker it is no boute.
All nacions the doe anoye,
And my folke comen to destroye,
As oxe that draweth beselye
The grasse righte to the roote.
Who so ever Balaaham blesses, i-wysse,
Blessed that man southlye is;
Who so ever he curses fareth arnesse,
Such nam over all hath he.
That same people for to assayle;
He that foundes to feighte shall fayle, Caste up
For sicker it is no boute.
All nacions the doe anoye,
And my folke comen to destroye,
As oxe that draweth beselye
The grasse righte to the roote.
Who so ever Balaaham blesses, i-wysse,
Blessed that man southlye is;
Who so ever he curses fareth arnesse,
Such nam over all hath he.
But yet I truste venged to be,
With dente of sworde or polesye;
One these false losscilles, leves ye,
Leve this withouten doute.
For to be wrocken is my desyer,
My harte bornes as hotte as fier
For vervente anger and for ire,
Tell this be broughte aboute.
With dente of sworde or polesye;
One these false losscilles, leves ye,
Leve this withouten doute.
For to be wrocken is my desyer,
My harte bornes as hotte as fier
For vervente anger and for ire,
Tell this be broughte aboute.
Surgite, del patrii, el opitulamini nobis, el in necessitate nos defendite.
Therfore, my god and godes all,
O mightie Marse, on thee I call,
With all the powers infernall,
Rise nowe and helpe at nede.
I am reformed by trewe reporte,
Howe the meditators doth resorte
To wyne my love to their comforte,
Descended of Jacobes seede.
O mightie Marse, on thee I call,
With all the powers infernall,
Rise nowe and helpe at nede.
I am reformed by trewe reporte,
Howe the meditators doth resorte
To wyne my love to their comforte,
Descended of Jacobes seede.
Nowe shewe your powers, you godes almightie,
So that the caytifFes I maie destroye,
Havinge of them full victorye,
And them broughte to mysschaunce.
Beate tliem downe in plaine battill, Sworde
Thoes false losselles so cruell,
That all the worlde maie here tell
We take one them vengance.
So that the caytifFes I maie destroye,
Havinge of them full victorye,
And them broughte to mysschaunce.
Beate tliem downe in plaine battill, Sworde
Thoes false losselles so cruell,
That all the worlde maie here tell
We take one them vengance.
Out of Egipte flede the be,
And passed through the Rede Sea,
The Egiptians that them pursued trewlye
Were drowned in that same flude:
The have on God mickell of mighte,
Which them doth ayde in wronge or righte,
Who so ever foundeth with them to feighte,
He wynneth littill good.
And passed through the Rede Sea,
The Egiptians that them pursued trewlye
Were drowned in that same flude:
The have on God mickell of mighte,
Which them doth ayde in wronge or righte,
Who so ever foundeth with them to feighte,
He wynneth littill good.
The have sleayne, this wote I well,
Through helpe of God of Isarell,
Bouth Seon and Ogge, kinges so fell,
And playnlye them destroyed.
Therfore rise up, you godes ichone,
Ye be a hundreth godes for one:
I woulde be wrocken them upon,
For all their pompe and pride:
Therfore, goe fatch in, Batcheler,
That he maye curse this people here,
For suerlye on them in no manner
Maye we not wrocken be.
Through helpe of God of Isarell,
Bouth Seon and Ogge, kinges so fell,
And playnlye them destroyed.
Therfore rise up, you godes ichone,
Ye be a hundreth godes for one:
I woulde be wrocken them upon,
For all their pompe and pride:
Therfore, goe fatch in, Batcheler,
That he maye curse this people here,
For suerlye on them in no manner
Maye we not wrocken be.
Miles regis Balacke
Sir, on your errande will I gone,
That yt shalbe done anon,
And he shall wreke you on your fonne
The people of Isarell.
Sir, on your errande will I gone,
That yt shalbe done anon,
And he shall wreke you on your fonne
The people of Isarell.
Rex Balacke
Yea, loke thou hette hym goulde greate one,
And landes for to leive upon,
To destroye them as he can,
Thes freckes that bene so fell.
Yea, loke thou hette hym goulde greate one,
And landes for to leive upon,
To destroye them as he can,
Thes freckes that bene so fell.
Tunc miles regis Balacke ibit ad Balaaham, el dicat:
Miles
Balaham, my lorde greetes well thee,
And prayeth at hym sone to be,
To curse the people of Judye,
That done hym greate anoye.
Balaham, my lorde greetes well thee,
And prayeth at hym sone to be,
To curse the people of Judye,
That done hym greate anoye.
Balaham
Abyde a whyle ther, Batchelere,
For I maye have no power,
But if Godes will were,
And that shall I wytte in hye.
Abyde a whyle ther, Batchelere,
For I maye have no power,
But if Godes will were,
And that shall I wytte in hye.
Tunc ibit Balam ad consulendum Dominum in oracione.
Balaaham praieth to God on his kneeyes.
Sedentes dicat Deus
Balaham, I commaunde thee,
Kinge Balackes byddinge for to fleye,
That people that blessed is of me,
Curse thou not by no waie.
Balaham, I commaunde thee,
Kinge Balackes byddinge for to fleye,
That people that blessed is of me,
Curse thou not by no waie.
Balaham
Lorde, I muste doe thy byddinge,
Though yt be to me unlikinge,
For therby moch woninge
I mighte a hade to daie.
Lorde, I muste doe thy byddinge,
Though yt be to me unlikinge,
For therby moch woninge
I mighte a hade to daie.
Deus
Yet though Balacke be my foe,
Thou shalte have leve theider to goe;
But loke thou doe righte soe,
As I have thee taughte.
Yet though Balacke be my foe,
Thou shalte have leve theider to goe;
But loke thou doe righte soe,
As I have thee taughte.
Balaham
Lorde, it shalbe donne in highte:
This asse shall beare me righte.
Goe we togeither anon, sir knighte,
For leave nowe have I caughte.
Lorde, it shalbe donne in highte:
This asse shall beare me righte.
Goe we togeither anon, sir knighte,
For leave nowe have I caughte.
Tunc Balaham et miles equitabunt simul, et dicat:
Balaham
Knighte, by my lawe that I leve one,
Nowe I have leve for to gone,
Cursed the shalbe everye ichone,
And I oughte wyne maye.
Houlde the kinge that he beheighte,
Godes hoste I will sette at lighte,
Warryed the shalbe this nighte,
Or that I wende awaie.
Knighte, by my lawe that I leve one,
Nowe I have leve for to gone,
Cursed the shalbe everye ichone,
And I oughte wyne maye.
Houlde the kinge that he beheighte,
Godes hoste I will sette at lighte,
Warryed the shalbe this nighte,
Or that I wende awaie.
Miles
Balaham, doe my Lordes will,
And of goulde thou shall have thy fill:
Spare thou not that folke to spille,
And spurne their Godes speche.
Balaham, doe my Lordes will,
And of goulde thou shall have thy fill:
Spare thou not that folke to spille,
And spurne their Godes speche.
Balaham
Frende, I have goodes wounder fell,
Bouth RufFyn and Raynell
Will worke righte, as I them tell,
Their is no wyle to seeke.
Frende, I have goodes wounder fell,
Bouth RufFyn and Raynell
Will worke righte, as I them tell,
Their is no wyle to seeke.
Tunc Balaham ascendet super asinam, et cum milite equiiabit, et in obviam veniet angelus Domini cum gladio extracto, et asina vidit ipsum etnon Balaham, ad terram prostrata jacebit, et dicat:
Balaham
Goe fourth, burnell, goe fourth, goe!
What the devill! my asse will not goe!
Served shee me never so,
What sorowe soe ever yt ys:
What the devill, nowe is shee fallne downe!
But nowe rise, and make thee bowne,
And beare me sone out of this towne,
Thou shalte abye, i-wysse.
Goe fourth, burnell, goe fourth, goe!
What the devill! my asse will not goe!
Served shee me never so,
What sorowe soe ever yt ys:
What the devill, nowe is shee fallne downe!
But nowe rise, and make thee bowne,
And beare me sone out of this towne,
Thou shalte abye, i-wysse.
Tunc percutiet Balaham asinam suam, et nota quod hic oportet aliquis transformari in speciem asine, et quando Balaham percutit dicat asina:
The Asse [s]peaketh
Maister, thou doste eville sickerlye,
So good an asse as me to nye:
Nowe haste thou beaten me heare thrye,
That bare thee thus aboute.
Maister, thou doste eville sickerlye,
So good an asse as me to nye:
Nowe haste thou beaten me heare thrye,
That bare thee thus aboute.
Balaham
Burnell, why begileste thou me,
When I have moste nede of thee?
Burnell, why begileste thou me,
When I have moste nede of thee?
Asina
That sighte that before me I see
Maketh me downe to lowte:
Am not I, master, thyn owne asse,
To beare thee wheither thou wylte passe,
And manye wynters readye was?
To smyte me yt is shame.
Thou wotteste well, master, pardye,
Thou hadeste non never like to me,
Ne never yet so serveid I thee:
Nowe am I not to blame.
That sighte that before me I see
Maketh me downe to lowte:
Am not I, master, thyn owne asse,
To beare thee wheither thou wylte passe,
And manye wynters readye was?
To smyte me yt is shame.
Thou wotteste well, master, pardye,
Thou hadeste non never like to me,
Ne never yet so serveid I thee:
Nowe am I not to blame.
Tunc videns Balaham angelum evaginatum gladium habentem, adoraiis ipsum dicat Balaham:
Balaham shall falle sodenlye, and speake to the angell:
Balaham
A! Lorde, to thee I make avowe
I hade no sighte of thee or nowe:
Littill wiste I that it was thou
That feared my asse soe.
A! Lorde, to thee I make avowe
I hade no sighte of thee or nowe:
Littill wiste I that it was thou
That feared my asse soe.
Angellus
Why haste thou beaten thy asse, why?
Nowe am I comen thee to nye,
That changed thy purpose so falslye,
And nowe woulde be my foe.
Yf this asse hade not downe gone,
I woulde have slayne thee heare anon.
Why haste thou beaten thy asse, why?
Nowe am I comen thee to nye,
That changed thy purpose so falslye,
And nowe woulde be my foe.
Yf this asse hade not downe gone,
I woulde have slayne thee heare anon.
Balaham
Lorde, have pittye me uppon,
For synned I have sore.
Lorde, ys yt thy will that I fourth gone I
Lorde, have pittye me uppon,
For synned I have sore.
Lorde, ys yt thy will that I fourth gone I
Angellus
Yea, but loke thou doe that folke noe woe,
Other wayes then God bade thee doe,
And saide to thee before.
Yea, but loke thou doe that folke noe woe,
Other wayes then God bade thee doe,
And saide to thee before.
Tunc Balaham et miles equitabunt simul, et in obviam veniet rex Balacke, et dicat rex:
Balacke Rex
Ah! welckome, Balaham, my frende,
For all my anger thou shalte ende,
Yf that thy wilbe to wende,
And wreake me of my foe.
Ah! welckome, Balaham, my frende,
For all my anger thou shalte ende,
Yf that thy wilbe to wende,
And wreake me of my foe.
Balaham
Naughte maye I speake, as I have wyne,
But as God putteth me within,
To forby all the eude of my kyne;
Therfore, sir, me is woe.
Naughte maye I speake, as I have wyne,
But as God putteth me within,
To forby all the eude of my kyne;
Therfore, sir, me is woe.
Balacke Rex
Come fourth, Balaham, come with me,
For on this hill, so mote I thee!
The folke of Isarell shalte thou see,
And curse them, I thee praye.
Goulde and seilver and eke pearle
Thou shalte have greate pleintie,
To curse them, that it sone maie be,
All that thou saide to daie.
Come fourth, Balaham, come with me,
For on this hill, so mote I thee!
The folke of Isarell shalte thou see,
And curse them, I thee praye.
Goulde and seilver and eke pearle
Thou shalte have greate pleintie,
To curse them, that it sone maie be,
All that thou saide to daie.
Tunc Balacke descendit de equo, et Balaham de asina, et ascendent in montem, et dicat Balacke rex:
Balacke Rex
Loe, Balaham, thou seeiste heare
Godes people all in feare,
Cittie, castill, and reiver:
Loke nowe, howe likeste thee?
Curse them nowe at my prayer,
As thou wilbe to me full deare,
And in my relme moste of power,
And greateste under me.
Loe, Balaham, thou seeiste heare
Godes people all in feare,
Cittie, castill, and reiver:
Loke nowe, howe likeste thee?
Curse them nowe at my prayer,
As thou wilbe to me full deare,
And in my relme moste of power,
And greateste under me.
Tunc Balaham versus austrum dicat:
Balaham
Howe maye I curse here in this place
That people that God blessed base?
In them is bouth mighte and grace,
And that is ever well seene:
Wyttnes maye I none beare
Againste God that them can weare,
His people that no man maye deare.
Nor troble with no teene.
Howe maye I curse here in this place
That people that God blessed base?
In them is bouth mighte and grace,
And that is ever well seene:
Wyttnes maye I none beare
Againste God that them can weare,
His people that no man maye deare.
Nor troble with no teene.
I saye thes folke shall have their will,
That no nacion shall them grylle;
The goodnes that the shall fulfill
Nombred maye not be.
Ther God shall them kepe and save,
And other raproffe shall the non have;
But suche death as the shall have,
I praye God sende to me.
That no nacion shall them grylle;
The goodnes that the shall fulfill
Nombred maye not be.
Ther God shall them kepe and save,
And other raproffe shall the non have;
But suche death as the shall have,
I praye God sende to me.
Balacke Rex
What a devill ayles thee, thou popularde!
Thy speache is not worth a farte;
Dotted I hope that thou arte,
For maddlye thou haste wroughte.
I bade thee curse them everye ichone,
And thou blesses them bloode and bone!
To this north syde thou shalte gone,
For heare thy deede is naughte.
What a devill ayles thee, thou popularde!
Thy speache is not worth a farte;
Dotted I hope that thou arte,
For maddlye thou haste wroughte.
I bade thee curse them everye ichone,
And thou blesses them bloode and bone!
To this north syde thou shalte gone,
For heare thy deede is naughte.
Tunc Balacke rex adducet Balaham ad borealem partem montis, et dicat alia voce:
Balaham
Lorde! that here is ffayer woninge,
Halles, chambers, greate likinge,
Valleyes, woodes, grasse growinge,
Fayer yarde and eke reiver!
I wotte well that God made all this,
His folke to live in joye and blesse,
That curses them cursced he ys,
Whoe blesseth them to God is deare.
Lorde! that here is ffayer woninge,
Halles, chambers, greate likinge,
Valleyes, woodes, grasse growinge,
Fayer yarde and eke reiver!
I wotte well that God made all this,
His folke to live in joye and blesse,
That curses them cursced he ys,
Whoe blesseth them to God is deare.
Balacke Rex
Thou preaches as populard as a pie;
The devell of hell thee destroye!
I bade thee curse my enemye,
Therfore thou came to me;
Nowe haste thou blessed them heare thrye,
For the meanes me to anoye.
Thou preaches as populard as a pie;
The devell of hell thee destroye!
I bade thee curse my enemye,
Therfore thou came to me;
Nowe haste thou blessed them heare thrye,
For the meanes me to anoye.
Balaham
Sir kinge, I toulde thee ere so thrye,
I mighte no other doe.
Nowe one thinge I will tell you all,
Heare after what shal befall:
A steier of Jacobe springe shall,
A man of Isarell,
That shall overcome and have in bande
All kinges and duckes of strange lande,
And all this worlde have in his hande,
As lorde to dighte and deale.
Goe we hense, is no boute
Longer with this man to mote;
For God is bouth crape and roote,
And Lorde of heaven and eairth.
Nowe se I well no man on live,
Againste him no man is able to strive;
Theirfore here is a mote thrie,
I will no longer dwell.
Sir kinge, I toulde thee ere so thrye,
I mighte no other doe.
Nowe one thinge I will tell you all,
Heare after what shal befall:
A steier of Jacobe springe shall,
A man of Isarell,
That shall overcome and have in bande
All kinges and duckes of strange lande,
And all this worlde have in his hande,
As lorde to dighte and deale.
Goe we hense, is no boute
Longer with this man to mote;
For God is bouth crape and roote,
And Lorde of heaven and eairth.
Nowe se I well no man on live,
Againste him no man is able to strive;
Theirfore here is a mote thrie,
I will no longer dwell.
Heare Balaham speaketh to Balacke Rex
Balaham
Balacke, kinge, abyde a whyle;
I have imagened a marvelous wyle,
Thy enemyes howe thou shalte begile,
My counscell if thou take:
Ther maye no pestelence them dismaye,
Neither battill them afraye,
Pleintifull the shalbe aye
Of goulde, cattill, and corne.
Ther God of them taketh the cure
From passion that lie maketh them suer.
Them to preserve in greate pleasuer,
As he before hade sworne.
Balacke, kinge, abyde a whyle;
I have imagened a marvelous wyle,
Thy enemyes howe thou shalte begile,
My counscell if thou take:
Ther maye no pestelence them dismaye,
Neither battill them afraye,
Pleintifull the shalbe aye
Of goulde, cattill, and corne.
Ther God of them taketh the cure
From passion that lie maketh them suer.
Them to preserve in greate pleasuer,
As he before hade sworne.
Ye shall not them destroye for aye,
But for a tyme vexe them you maye;
Marke well what I shall saye,
And worke after my lore.
Sencle fourth wemen of thy countrye,
Namelye those that bewtifful be,
Unto thy enemyes let them stande nye,
As stalles to stande [them] before.
When the yonge, that lustye be,
Have perceived their greate bewtye,
The shall desyer their companye,
Love shall them so inflame.
But for a tyme vexe them you maye;
Marke well what I shall saye,
And worke after my lore.
Sencle fourth wemen of thy countrye,
Namelye those that bewtifful be,
Unto thy enemyes let them stande nye,
As stalles to stande [them] before.
When the yonge, that lustye be,
Have perceived their greate bewtye,
The shall desyer their companye,
Love shall them so inflame.
Then when the se the have them suer
In ther love, withouten cure,
The shall denye them their pleasuer,
Excepte the grante the same,
To love their greate solempenitie,
And worshipe their godes of trenetie,
And other thinges comenlye
With other people to use.
So shall the their God displease.
And torne them selves to greate deseaes:
Then maie thou have thy hartes ease,
Their lawe when the reffuce.
In ther love, withouten cure,
The shall denye them their pleasuer,
Excepte the grante the same,
To love their greate solempenitie,
And worshipe their godes of trenetie,
And other thinges comenlye
With other people to use.
So shall the their God displease.
And torne them selves to greate deseaes:
Then maie thou have thy hartes ease,
Their lawe when the reffuce.
Balacke
Balaham, thy counscell I shall fulfill,
It shalbe donne righte as thou will.
Come nere, my knighte, that well can skill
My messuage to fulfill.
Goe thou fourth, thou valian[t] knighte,
Loke thou ney stoppe daie ner nighte,
Bringe thoes women to my sighte,
That shall my enemyes destroye.
Spare thou neither riche nor poore,
Wydowe, mayde, nor yet hore;
Yf shee be freshe of collor,
Bringe her with thee, I saie.
Balaham, thy counscell I shall fulfill,
It shalbe donne righte as thou will.
Come nere, my knighte, that well can skill
My messuage to fulfill.
Goe thou fourth, thou valian[t] knighte,
Loke thou ney stoppe daie ner nighte,
Bringe thoes women to my sighte,
That shall my enemyes destroye.
Spare thou neither riche nor poore,
Wydowe, mayde, nor yet hore;
Yf shee be freshe of collor,
Bringe her with thee, I saie.
Miles
My lorde, I shall hie faste
To do your will in goodlye haste;
Truste ye well, at the laste,
Your enemyes you shall dismaye.
My lorde, I shall hie faste
To do your will in goodlye haste;
Truste ye well, at the laste,
Your enemyes you shall dismaye.
The doctor speaketh
Lordes and ladyes that bene presente,
This messenger that fourth was sente,
As ye have harde of that intente,
Thes wemen for to bringe,
So crafelye he hath wroughte,
The fayereste women he hath out soughte,
And Godes people he hath them broughte,
God knowes, a parlous thinge!
Lordes and ladyes that bene presente,
This messenger that fourth was sente,
As ye have harde of that intente,
Thes wemen for to bringe,
So crafelye he hath wroughte,
The fayereste women he hath out soughte,
And Godes people he hath them broughte,
God knowes, a parlous thinge!
For when the had of them a sighte,
Manye of them againste righte
Gave them selves againste their mighte
These wemen for to please;
And then sone to them the wente,
To have their love was their intente,
Desieringe thoes wemen of their consente,
And so to live in peace.
But thoes wemen them denyed,
Their lawe the saide it shoulde be tryed,
With their mighte not elles abyde,
For feare of greate deceate.
Manye of them againste righte
Gave them selves againste their mighte
These wemen for to please;
And then sone to them the wente,
To have their love was their intente,
Desieringe thoes wemen of their consente,
And so to live in peace.
But thoes wemen them denyed,
Their lawe the saide it shoulde be tryed,
With their mighte not elles abyde,
For feare of greate deceate.
Thes blynde people sware manye an othe,
That nether for leiffe nor for loth,
At anye tyme, the woulde have the wroth,
Nor never againste them pleade.
So by these women so full of iluscion,
Godes people were put to effuscion,
And his displeasuer in concluscion,
His lawe the sete at naughte.
That nether for leiffe nor for loth,
At anye tyme, the woulde have the wroth,
Nor never againste them pleade.
So by these women so full of iluscion,
Godes people were put to effuscion,
And his displeasuer in concluscion,
His lawe the sete at naughte.
God to Moyses, leve you me,
Byde hym sette up a gallos tree,
The princes of the tribe their hanged to be,
For syn that the hade wroughte.
With that Moyses sore greved
And generallye he them reproved:
Therfore the woulde have hym mischeffed,
But God did hym defende;
For the good people that tendred the lawe,
When the that greate messcheife sawe,
Whollye togeither the cane them drawe
Upon those wreches to make an ende.
Byde hym sette up a gallos tree,
The princes of the tribe their hanged to be,
For syn that the hade wroughte.
With that Moyses sore greved
And generallye he them reproved:
Therfore the woulde have hym mischeffed,
But God did hym defende;
For the good people that tendred the lawe,
When the that greate messcheife sawe,
Whollye togeither the cane them drawe
Upon those wreches to make an ende.
And one Phenes, a yonge man devoute,
Captayne he was of that same rowte,
And of these wreches, without all dowte,
xxiiij. thousande he slewe:
And then God was well contente
With Phenes, for his good intente,
As the prophette wryteth veramente,
And here we shall it shewe.
Captayne he was of that same rowte,
And of these wreches, without all dowte,
xxiiij. thousande he slewe:
And then God was well contente
With Phenes, for his good intente,
As the prophette wryteth veramente,
And here we shall it shewe.
Stetit Phenies, et precavit, et cessavit quassatio, et reputatum est ad justiciam in generacione sua.
Sonne after, by Godes commaundmente,
To the Midianities againe the wente,
And their the slewe veramente
Balaham with five giauntes moe.
Lordinges, moche more matter,
Then in this storye you have harde freey,
But the substance withouten were
Is plaied you before.
And by this prophescie, leve you me,
Three kinges, as you shall plaied see,
Honoured, at his nativitie,
Christe, when he was borne.
Nowe, worthy sires, both greate and small,
Here have we shewed you this storye before,
And yf it be pleasinge to you all,
To morowe nexte you shall have more.
Prainge you all, bouth este and weste,
Wher as ye goe, to speake the beste,
The birth of Christe faire and honeste
Here shall ye se, and fare you well.
Here have we shewed you this storye before,
And yf it be pleasinge to you all,
To morowe nexte you shall have more.
Prainge you all, bouth este and weste,
Wher as ye goe, to speake the beste,
The birth of Christe faire and honeste
Here shall ye se, and fare you well.
Finis. Deo gracias! per me, Georgi Bellin.
Come, Lorde Jesu, come quicklye. 1592.
2023 Sep 26 11:45:55