The Watter Leaders and the Drawers of Dee Playe
I, God, that all this worlde hath wroughte,
Heaven and eairth, and all of naughte,
I see my people in deede and thoughte
Are sette fowle in synne;
My ghoste shall not linge in mone,
That through fleshe likinge is my fonne,
But tell sixe skore yeaires be comen and gone,
To loke yf the will blyne.
Man that I made I will destroye,
Beaste, worme, and fowle to flye,
For one eairth the doe me nye
The folke that are theirone;
It harmes me sore hurtfullye,
The malice that doth nowe multiplye,
That sore yt greives me hartelye
That ever I made man.
Therfore, Noye, my servante free,
That rightious man arte, as I see,
A shippe sone thou shall make thee
Of treeyes drye and lighte;
Littill chamberes therin thou make,
And byndinge slyche also thou take,
Within and without neye thou slake,
To anoynte yt through all thy mighte.
Three hundreth cubettes it shalbe longe,
And fiftie brode, to make yt stronge;
Of heighte fiftie the nexte thou fonge,
Thus messuer thou this aboute.
One wyndowe worcke through thy wytte,
A cubitte of lengthe and breade make itt,
Upon the syde a dore shall sutte,
For to come in and oute.
Eattinge places thou make alsoe,
Ronette chamberes one or too:
For with watter I thinke to flowe
Man that I can make;
Destroyed all the worlde shalbe,
Save thou, thy wiffe, and children three,
And ther wiffes also with thee,
Shall fal before thy face.
O, Lorde, I thanke thee lowde and still,
That to me arte in suche will,
And spares me and my howsehoulde to spill,
As I nowe southlye fynde.
Thy byddinge, Lorde, I shall fulfill,
And never more thee greve nor grill,
That such grace hath sente me till
Amonght all mankinde.
Have done, you men and wemen all,
Hye you, leste this watter fall,
To worche this shippe, chamber and hall,
As God hath bedden us doe.
Father, I am all readye bowne;
An axe I have, by my crowne!
As sharpe as anye in all this towne,
For to goe therto.
I have a hacchatt wounder keeyne,
To bitte well, as maye be seene,
A better gronde one, as I wene,
Is not in all this towne.
And I can make well a pynne,
And with this hamer knocke it in;
Goe wee worcke boute dyne,
And I am readye bowne.
And we shall bringe tymber too,
For we mone nothinge elles doe;
Wemen be weeke to underfoe
Anye greate travill.
Hear is a good hacckinge stoccke,
One this you maye hewe and knocke,
Shall none be idle in this floccke;
Ney nowe maye noe man fayle.
And I will goe gaither slyche,
The shippe for to caulke and pyche,
Amounte yt muste be with stiche,
Borde, tree, and pynne.
And I will gaither chippes heare
To make a fier for you in feare,
And for to dighte youer dynner,
Againste your cominge in.
Then Noye begineth to builde the Arcke, and speaketh Noye
Nowe in the name of God, I begyne
To make the shippe that we shall in,
That we maye be readye for to swyme
At the cominge of the fludde:
Thes hordes heare I pynne togeither,
To beare us saffe from the weither,
That we maye rowe neither and theider,
And saffe be from the fludde.
Of this treey will I make the maste,
Tyed with cabbelles that will laste,
With a saile yarde for iche blaste,
And iche thinge in their kinde:
With toppe-castill, and boe-spritte,
Bouth cordes and roppes I have all mette,
To sayle fourth at the nexte weete,
This shippe is att an ende.
Wyffe, we shall in this vessell be kepte,
My children and thou I woulde ye in lepte.
In fayth, Noye, I hade as leffe thou slepte!
For all thy frynishe fare,
I will not doe after thy reade.
Good wyffe, doe nowe as I thee bydde.
Be Christe! not or I see more neede,
Though thou stande all daye and stare.
Lorde, that wemen be crabbed aye,
And non are meke I dare well saye;
That is well seene by me to daye,
In wittnesse of you ichone.
Good wiffe, lett be all this beare,
That thou maiste in this place heare;
For all the wene that thou arte maister,
And soe thou arte, by Sante John!
Then Noye with all his familie shall make a signe as though the wroughte upon the shippe with diveres instrumentes, and after that God shall speake to Noye, sayinge:
Noye, take thou thy meanye,
And in the shippe hie that you be,
For non soe righte, nor non to me,
Is nowe one earth livinge;
Of cleane beastes with thee to take,
Seven and seven, or then thou slake
He and shee, make to make,
By live in that you bringe.
Of beastes uncleane towe and towe,
Male and femalle, boute moe,
Of cleane fowles seven alsoe,
The hie and shee togeither;
Off ffowles uncleane twene and noe moe,
As I of beastes sayde before;
That man be saved through my lore,
Againste I sende this weither.
Of all meates that mone be eatten,
Into the shippe loke be getten;
For that maye be noe waye forgotten,
And doe all this bydene,
To sustayne man and beaste therin,
Tell the watter cease and blyne.
This worlde ye filled full of synne,
And that is nowe well seene.
Seven dayes be yette cominge,
You shall have space them in to bringe;
After that it is my likinge,
Mankinde for to anoye.
Fourtye dayes and fortye nightes
Raine shall fall for ther unrightes,
And that I have made through my mightes,
Nowe thinke I to destroye.
Lorde, to thy byddinge I am beane,
Seinge noe other grace will gayne,
Yt will I fulfill fayne,
For gracious I thee fynde;
A hundreth wyntter and twentye
This shippe makinge taryed have I:
Yf through amendment thy mercy e
Woulde fall to mankinde.
Have donne you men and wemen alle,
Hye you leste this watter fall,
That iich beaste were in stalle,
And into the shippe broughte;
Of cleane beastes seven shalbe,
Of uncleane [two], this God bade me:
The fludde is nye, you maye well see,
Therfore tarye you naughte.
Then Noye shall goe into the Arcke with all his familye, his wife excepte, and the Arcke muste be borded round about, and one the bordes all the beastes and foules painted.
Sir, heare are lions, leapardes, in,
Horses, mares, oxen, and swyne;
Goote and caulfe, sheepe and kine;
Heare sitten thou maye see.
Camelles, asses, man maye fynde,
Bucke and doo, harte and hinde,
And beastes of all maner kinde,
Here be, as thinketh me.
Take heare cattes, dogges too,
Atter and foxe, fillie, mare alsoe;
Hares hoppinge gile can goe,
Heare have coule for to eate.
And heare are beares, woulfes sette,
Apes, oules, marmosette,
Weyscelles, squirelles, and firrette,
Heare the eaten ther meate.
Heare are beastes in this howse,
Heare cattes make yt crousse,
Heare a rotten, heare a mousse,
That standeth nighe togeither.
And heare are fowles lesse and more,
Hearnes, cranes, and bittor,
Swannes, peacokes, and them before
Meate for this weither.
Heare are coke, kitte, croes,
Rookes, ravens, manye roes,
Duckes, curlues, whoe ever knowes,
Iche one in his kinde;
Heare are doves, digges, drackes,
Red-shonckes roninge through lackes,
And ech fowle that leden makes
In this shippe nowe maye fynde.
Wiffe, come in: why standes thou their?
Thou arte ever frowarde, I dare well sweare;
Come in, one Godes name! halfe tyme yt were,
For feare leste that we drowne.
Yea, sir, sette up youer saile,
And rowe fourth with evill haile,
For withouten fayle
I will not oute of this towne;
But I have my gossippes every echone,
One foote further I will not gone:
The shall not drowne, by Sante John!
And I maye save ther life.
The loven me full wel, by Christe!
But thou lett them into thy cheiste,
Elles rowe nowe wher thy leiste,
And gette thee a newe wiffe.
Seme, sonne, loe! thy mother is wrawe;
Be God, such another I doe not knowe!
Father, I shall fetch her in, I trowe,
Withoutten anye fayle. —
Mother, my father after thee sende,
And byddes thee into yeinder shippe wende.
Loke up and see the wynde,
For we bene readye to sayle.
Seme, goe againe to hym, I saie;
I will not come theirin to daye.
Come in, wiffe, in twentye devilles waye!
Or elles stand their all daye.
Shall we all feche her in?
Yea, sonnes, in Christe blessinge and myne!
I woulde you hied you be tyme,
For of this flude I am in doubte.
The flude comes flittinge in full faste,
One everye syde that spreades full farre;
For feare of drowninge I am agaste;
Good gossippes, lett us drawe nere.
And lett us drinke or we departe,
For ofte tymes we have done soe;
For att a draughte thou drinkes a quarte,
And soe will I doe or I goe.
Heare is a pottill full of Malmsine good and stronge;
Itt will rejoyce bouth harte and tonge;
Though Noye thinke us never so longe,
Heare we will drinke alike.
Mother, we praye you all togeither,
For we are heare, youer owne children,
Come into the shippe for feare of the weither,
For his love that you boughte I
That will I not, for all youer call,
But I have my gossippes all.
In faith, mother, yett you shalle,
Wheither thou wylte or note.
Welckome, wiffe, into this botte.
Have thou that for thy note!
Ha, ha! marye, this is hotte!
[It] is good for to be still.
Ha! children, me thinkes my botte renewes,
Our tarryinge heare highlye me greves,
Then the Over the lande the watter spreades;
God doe as he will.
Then the singe.
That worckes not thy will is wood.
Nowe all this worlde is one a flude,
As I see well in sighte.
This wyndowe I will shutte anon,
And into my chamber I will gone,
Tell this watter so greate wone
Be slacked through thy mighte.
Then shall Noye shutte the wyndowe of they Arcke, and for a littill space be silent, and after warde lokinge rounde aboute shall saye:
Send a raven I will anone
If ought-were earth, tree or stone,
Be drye in any place.
And if this foule come not againe
It is a signe, soth to sayne,
That drye it is on hill or playne,
And God hath done some grace.
Tune dimittet corvum et capiens columbam in manibus dicat.
Somewhere is drye, well I see;
But yet a dove by my lewtye
After I will sende.
Thou wilt turne againe to me,
For of all fowles that may flye
Thou art most meke and hend.
Tune emittet columbam el erit in nave alia columba ferens olivam in ore quam dimittet aliquis ex malo per funem in manus Noe ; et postea dicat Noe.
That me hast confort thus to day;
By this sight, I may well saye,
This flood begins to cease.
My sweete dove to me brought hase
A branch of olyve from some place,
This betokeneth God has done us some grace
And is a signe of peace.
All earthe dryes now I see,
But yet tyll thou comannde me
Hence will I not hye.
All this water is awaye
Therfore as sone as I maye
Sacryfice I shall doo in faye
To thee devoutlye.
Noe take thy wife anone,
And thy children every one,
Out of the shippe thou shall gone,
And they all with thee.
Beastes and all that can flie
Out anone they shall hye,
On earth to grow and multeplye ;
I wyll that yt be soe.
Lord I thanke the through thy mighte,
Thy bydding shall be done in height,
And as fast as I may dighte,
I will doe the honoure.
And to thee offer sacrifice,
Therfore comes in all wise,
For of these beastes that bene hise
Offer I will this stower.
Tunc egrediens archam cum tota familia sua acdpiet animalia sua et volucres et offeret ea et mactabit
Lorde God, in magestie,
That suche grace hath graunted me,
Wher all was borne false to be,
Theirfore nowe I am boune,
My wife, my children, and my meanye,
With sacrifice to honour thee,
Of beastes, fowles, as thou maiste see,
And full devocion.
Noye, to me thou arte full able,
And to my sacrifice acceptable,
For I have founde thee true and stable;
One thee nowe muste I myne;
Warrye eairth I will noe more,
For mans synnes that greves me sore,
For of youth mon full yore
Halfe bene inclynde to synne.
You shall nowe growe and multiplye,
On eairth againe to edifye;
Ich beaste, and fowle that maye flye,
Shalbe feared of you;
And fishe in sea that maye flitte
Shall sustaine you, I thee behitte,
To eate of them ye ne lette
That cleane bene, you mon knowe;
Theras you have eaten before
Treeyes and rootes, since you were bore,
Of cleane beastes nowe lesse and more
I geve you leve to eate;
Save bloode and fleshe bouth in feare,
Of rouge dead carrine that is heare,
Eate you not of that in noe manere,
For that you shall leave.
Man-slaughter [ever] you shall fieye,
For that [is] not pleasante unto me;
The that sheedeth blood, he or shee,
Oughte wher amonge mankinde,
That bloode fowle shedde shalbe
And vengance have, men shall see;
Therfore beware all ye,
You falle not into that synne.
A forwarde, Noye, with thee I make,
And all thy seede, for thy sake,
Suche vengance for to slake,
For nowe I have my will:
Heare I behette thee a heiste,
That man, woman, fowle, ney beaste,
With watter, while this worlde shall laste,
I will noe more spill.
My bowe betweyne you and me
In the firmamente shalbe,
By everye tocken that you shall see,
That suche vengance shall cease.
Man shall never more
Be wasted with watter, as he hath bene before;
But for synne that greveth me sore,
Therfore this vengance was.
Wher cloudes in the welckine bene,
That same bowe shalbe seene,
In tocken that my wrath and teene
Shall never this wrocken be.
The stringe is torned towardes you,
And towarde me is bente the bowe,
That suche weither shall never shewe,
This behighte I thee.
My blessinge, Noye, I geve thee heare,
To thee, Noye, my servante deare;
For vengance shall noe more appeare,
And nowe fare well, my darlinge deare.
Finis. Deo gracias! per me, George Bellin. 1592.
Come, Lorde Jesu, come quicklye.
2019 Dec 12 10:30:46