The Slaughter of the Innocents and the Death of Herod
Tunc, respiciens, Senescallus vadyt ad Herodem dicens:
Senescallus
Lord, I haue walkyd be dale and hylle
And wayted as it is 3oure wyll.
The kyngys iij stelyn awey full styll
Thorwe Bedleem londe.
They wyl nevyr, so moty the,
Com in þe lond of Galylé
For to se 3oure fay[r] ceté
Ne dedys of 3oure honde.
Lord, I haue walkyd be dale and hylle
And wayted as it is 3oure wyll.
The kyngys iij stelyn awey full styll
Thorwe Bedleem londe.
They wyl nevyr, so moty the,
Com in þe lond of Galylé
For to se 3oure fay[r] ceté
Ne dedys of 3oure honde.
Herodes Rex
I ryde on my rowel, ryche in my regne!
Rybbys ful reed with rape xal I rende!
Popetys and pap-hawkys I xal puttyn in peyne,
With my spere prevyn, pychyn, and to-pende!
The gomys with gold crownys ne gete nevyr [geyn]!
To seke þo sottys sondys xal I sende.
Do howlott howtyn, Hoberd and Heyn!
Whan here barnys blede vndyr credyl bende,
Sharply I xal hem shende!
The knaue childeryn þat be
In all Israel countré,
Thei xul haue blody ble
For on I calde vnkende!
I ryde on my rowel, ryche in my regne!
Rybbys ful reed with rape xal I rende!
Popetys and pap-hawkys I xal puttyn in peyne,
With my spere prevyn, pychyn, and to-pende!
The gomys with gold crownys ne gete nevyr [geyn]!
To seke þo sottys sondys xal I sende.
Do howlott howtyn, Hoberd and Heyn!
Whan here barnys blede vndyr credyl bende,
Sharply I xal hem shende!
The knaue childeryn þat be
In all Israel countré,
Thei xul haue blody ble
For on I calde vnkende!
It is tolde in Grw
His name xulde be Jesu
Ifownde.
To haue hym 3e gon;
Hewe þe flesch with þe bon,
And gyf hym wownde!
His name xulde be Jesu
Ifownde.
To haue hym 3e gon;
Hewe þe flesch with þe bon,
And gyf hym wownde!
Now, kene knyghtys, kythe 3oure craftys,
And kyllyth knaue chylderyn and castyth hem in clay!
Shewyth on 3oure shulderys scheldys and schaftys,
Shapyht amonge schelchownys a shyrlyng shray!
Doth rowncys rennyn with rakynge raftys
Tyl rybbys be to-rent with a reed ray!
Lete no barne beleve onbete baftys
Tyl a beggere blede be bestys baye!
Mahound þat best may.
I warne 3ow, my knyghtys,
A barn is born, I plyghtys,
Wolde clymbyn kynge and knytys
And lett my lordly lay.
And kyllyth knaue chylderyn and castyth hem in clay!
Shewyth on 3oure shulderys scheldys and schaftys,
Shapyht amonge schelchownys a shyrlyng shray!
Doth rowncys rennyn with rakynge raftys
Tyl rybbys be to-rent with a reed ray!
Lete no barne beleve onbete baftys
Tyl a beggere blede be bestys baye!
Mahound þat best may.
I warne 3ow, my knyghtys,
A barn is born, I plyghtys,
Wolde clymbyn kynge and knytys
And lett my lordly lay.
Knyghtys wyse,
Chosyn ful chyse,
Aryse, aryse,
And take 3oure tolle!
And every page
Of ij 3ere age,
Or evyr 3e swage,
Sleyth ilke a fool!
Chosyn ful chyse,
Aryse, aryse,
And take 3oure tolle!
And every page
Of ij 3ere age,
Or evyr 3e swage,
Sleyth ilke a fool!
On of hem alle
Was born in stalle.
Folys hym calle
Kynge in crowne!
With byttyr galle
He xall down falle!
My myght in halle
Xal nevyr go down!
Was born in stalle.
Folys hym calle
Kynge in crowne!
With byttyr galle
He xall down falle!
My myght in halle
Xal nevyr go down!
Primus Miles
I xall sle scharlys
And qwenys with therlys;
Here knaue gerlys
I xal steke!
Forth wyl I spede
To don hem blede.
Thow gerlys grede
We xul be wreke!
I xall sle scharlys
And qwenys with therlys;
Here knaue gerlys
I xal steke!
Forth wyl I spede
To don hem blede.
Thow gerlys grede
We xul be wreke!
Secundus Miles
For swerdys sharpe
As an harpe
Quenys xul karpe
And of sorwe synge!
Barnys 3onge,
They xul be stunge;
Thurwe levyr and lunge
We xal hem stynge!
For swerdys sharpe
As an harpe
Quenys xul karpe
And of sorwe synge!
Barnys 3onge,
They xul be stunge;
Thurwe levyr and lunge
We xal hem stynge!
Angelus
Awake, Joseph, and take þi wyff,
Thy chylde also, ryd belyff.
For Kynge Herowde with sharpe knyff
His knyghtys he doth sende.
The Fadyr of Hevyn hath to be sent
Into Egypte þat þu be bent,
For cruel knyghtys þi childe haue ment
With swerd to sle and shende.
Awake, Joseph, and take þi wyff,
Thy chylde also, ryd belyff.
For Kynge Herowde with sharpe knyff
His knyghtys he doth sende.
The Fadyr of Hevyn hath to be sent
Into Egypte þat þu be bent,
For cruel knyghtys þi childe haue ment
With swerd to sle and shende.
Joseph
Awake, good wyff, out of 3oure slepe,
And of 3oure childe takyght good kepe
Whyl I 3oure clothis ley on hepe
And trus hem on þe asse.
Kynge Herowde þe chylde wyl scloo,
þerfore to Egypte muste we goo —
An aungel of God seyd me soo.
And þerfore lete us passe.
Awake, good wyff, out of 3oure slepe,
And of 3oure childe takyght good kepe
Whyl I 3oure clothis ley on hepe
And trus hem on þe asse.
Kynge Herowde þe chylde wyl scloo,
þerfore to Egypte muste we goo —
An aungel of God seyd me soo.
And þerfore lete us passe.
Tunc ibunt milites ad pueros occidendos, et dicat Prima Femina:
Prima Femina
Longe lullynge haue I lorn!
Alas! Qwhy was my baron born?
With swappynge swerde now is he shorn,
þe heed ryght fro þe nekke!
Shanke and shulderyn is alto-torn!
Sorwyn I se behyndyn and beforn,
Both mydnyth, mydday, and at morn —
Of my lyff I ne recke!
Longe lullynge haue I lorn!
Alas! Qwhy was my baron born?
With swappynge swerde now is he shorn,
þe heed ryght fro þe nekke!
Shanke and shulderyn is alto-torn!
Sorwyn I se behyndyn and beforn,
Both mydnyth, mydday, and at morn —
Of my lyff I ne recke!
Secunda Femina
Serteynly I sey þe same:
Gon is all my good game!
My lytyll childe lyth all lame
þat lullyd on my pappys.
My fourty wekys gronynge
Hath sent me sefne 3ere sorwynge.
Mykyl is my mornynge
And ryght hard arne myn happys.
Serteynly I sey þe same:
Gon is all my good game!
My lytyll childe lyth all lame
þat lullyd on my pappys.
My fourty wekys gronynge
Hath sent me sefne 3ere sorwynge.
Mykyl is my mornynge
And ryght hard arne myn happys.
Primus Miles
Lorde in trone,
Makyght no mone.
Qwenys gyn grone
In werdl aboute.
Upon my spere
A gerle I bere,
I dare well swere.
Left moderys howte!
Lorde in trone,
Makyght no mone.
Qwenys gyn grone
In werdl aboute.
Upon my spere
A gerle I bere,
I dare well swere.
Left moderys howte!
Secundus Miles
Lord, we han spad
As 3e bad:
Barnis ben blad
And lyne in dych!
Flesch and veyn
Han tholyd peyn.
And 3e xul reyne
Euyrmore rych!
Lord, we han spad
As 3e bad:
Barnis ben blad
And lyne in dych!
Flesch and veyn
Han tholyd peyn.
And 3e xul reyne
Euyrmore rych!
Herodes Rex
3e xul haue stedys
To 3oure medys,
Londys and ledys,
Fryth and fe!
3e xul haue stedys
To 3oure medys,
Londys and ledys,
Fryth and fe!
Wele haue 3e wrought,
My fo is sought,
To deth is he brought!
Now come up to me.
My fo is sought,
To deth is he brought!
Now come up to me.
In sete now am I sett as kynge of myghtys most.
All þis werd for þer loue to me xul þei lowt,
Both of hevyn, and of erth, and of helle cost!
For dygne of my dygnyté þei haue of me dowt!
þer is no lord lyke on lyve to me wurth a toost,
Nother kyng nor kayser in all þis worlde abought!
If any brybour do bragge or blowe a3ens my bost,
I xal rappe þo rebawdys and rake þem on rought
With my bryght bronde!
þer xal be neythe[r] kayser nere kynge
But þat I xal hem down dynge,
Lesse þan he at my byddynge
Be buxum to myn honde!
All þis werd for þer loue to me xul þei lowt,
Both of hevyn, and of erth, and of helle cost!
For dygne of my dygnyté þei haue of me dowt!
þer is no lord lyke on lyve to me wurth a toost,
Nother kyng nor kayser in all þis worlde abought!
If any brybour do bragge or blowe a3ens my bost,
I xal rappe þo rebawdys and rake þem on rought
With my bryght bronde!
þer xal be neythe[r] kayser nere kynge
But þat I xal hem down dynge,
Lesse þan he at my byddynge
Be buxum to myn honde!
Now, my jentyll and curteys knyghtys, herke to me þis stownde:
Good tyme sone, methynkygh, at dyner þat we were.
Smertly, þerfore, sett a tabyll anon here ful sownde,
Couerid with a coryous cloth and with rych wurthy fare —
Servyse for be lovelyest lorde þat levynge is on grownde.
Beste metys and wurthyest wynes loke þat 3e non spare,
þow þat a lytel pynt xulde coste a thowsand pownde!
Brynge alwey of þe beste, for coste take 3e no care.
Good tyme sone, methynkygh, at dyner þat we were.
Smertly, þerfore, sett a tabyll anon here ful sownde,
Couerid with a coryous cloth and with rych wurthy fare —
Servyse for be lovelyest lorde þat levynge is on grownde.
Beste metys and wurthyest wynes loke þat 3e non spare,
þow þat a lytel pynt xulde coste a thowsand pownde!
Brynge alwey of þe beste, for coste take 3e no care.
Anon þat it be done!
Senescallus
My lorde, þe tabyl is redy dyght.
Here is watyr, now wasch forthryght.
Now blowe up, mynstrall, with all 3oure myght!
þe servyse comyth in sone.
My lorde, þe tabyl is redy dyght.
Here is watyr, now wasch forthryght.
Now blowe up, mynstrall, with all 3oure myght!
þe servyse comyth in sone.
Herodes Rex
Now am I sett at mete
And wurthely servyd at my degré.
Com forth, knyghtys, sytt down and ete
And be as mery as 3e kan be.
Now am I sett at mete
And wurthely servyd at my degré.
Com forth, knyghtys, sytt down and ete
And be as mery as 3e kan be.
Primus Miles
Lord, at 3owre byddynge we take oure sete,
With herty wyl obey we the.
þer is no lorde of myght so grett
Thorwe all þis werde in no countré,
In wurchepp to abyde.
Lord, at 3owre byddynge we take oure sete,
With herty wyl obey we the.
þer is no lorde of myght so grett
Thorwe all þis werde in no countré,
In wurchepp to abyde.
Herodes
I was nevyr meryer herebeforn
Sythe þat I was fyrst born
Than I am now ryght in þis morn —
In joy I gynne to glyde!
I was nevyr meryer herebeforn
Sythe þat I was fyrst born
Than I am now ryght in þis morn —
In joy I gynne to glyde!
Mors
Ow! I herde a page make preysyng of pride!
All prynces he passyth, he wenyth, of powsté.
He wenyth to be be wurthyest of all þis werde wyde,
Kynge ovyr all kyngys þat page wenyth to be!
He sent into Bedlem to seke on every syde,
Cryst for to qwelle yf þei myght hym se.
But of his wykkyd wyl, lurdeyn, 3itt he lyede!
Goddys sone doth lyve! þer is no lord but he.
Ouyr all lordys he is kynge.
I am Deth, Goddys masangere.
Allmyghty God hath sent me here
3on lordeyn to sle, withowtyn dwere,
For his wykkyd werkynge.
Ow! I herde a page make preysyng of pride!
All prynces he passyth, he wenyth, of powsté.
He wenyth to be be wurthyest of all þis werde wyde,
Kynge ovyr all kyngys þat page wenyth to be!
He sent into Bedlem to seke on every syde,
Cryst for to qwelle yf þei myght hym se.
But of his wykkyd wyl, lurdeyn, 3itt he lyede!
Goddys sone doth lyve! þer is no lord but he.
Ouyr all lordys he is kynge.
I am Deth, Goddys masangere.
Allmyghty God hath sent me here
3on lordeyn to sle, withowtyn dwere,
For his wykkyd werkynge.
I am sent fro God; Deth is my name.
Allthynge þat is on grownd I welde at my wylie:
Both man, and beste, and byrdys wylde and tame,
Whan þat I come them to, with deth I do them kylle.
Erbe, gres, and tres stronge, take hem all in-same;
3a, be grete myghty okys with my dent I spylle.
What man þat I wrastele with, he xal ryght sone haue schame —
I 3eve hym such a trepett he xal evyrmore ly stylle.
For Deth kan no sporte.
Wher I smyte þer is no grace,
For aftere my strook man hath no space
To make amendys for his trespace
But God hym graunt comforte.
Allthynge þat is on grownd I welde at my wylie:
Both man, and beste, and byrdys wylde and tame,
Whan þat I come them to, with deth I do them kylle.
Erbe, gres, and tres stronge, take hem all in-same;
3a, be grete myghty okys with my dent I spylle.
What man þat I wrastele with, he xal ryght sone haue schame —
I 3eve hym such a trepett he xal evyrmore ly stylle.
For Deth kan no sporte.
Wher I smyte þer is no grace,
For aftere my strook man hath no space
To make amendys for his trespace
But God hym graunt comforte.
Ow! Se how prowdely 3on kaytyff sytt at mete!
Of deth hath he no dowte: he wenyth to leve evyrmore!
To hym wyl I go and 3eve hym such an hete
þat all be lechis of þe londe his lyf xul nevyr restore.
A3ens my dredful dentys it vaylyth nevyr to plete!
Or I hym part fro I xal hym make ful pore.
All þe blood of his body I xal hym owt swete,
For now I go to sle hym with strokys sad and sore,
þis tyde.
Bothe hym and his knyghtys all,
I xal hem make to me but thrall.
With my spere sle hem I xall
And so cast down his pride!
Of deth hath he no dowte: he wenyth to leve evyrmore!
To hym wyl I go and 3eve hym such an hete
þat all be lechis of þe londe his lyf xul nevyr restore.
A3ens my dredful dentys it vaylyth nevyr to plete!
Or I hym part fro I xal hym make ful pore.
All þe blood of his body I xal hym owt swete,
For now I go to sle hym with strokys sad and sore,
þis tyde.
Bothe hym and his knyghtys all,
I xal hem make to me but thrall.
With my spere sle hem I xall
And so cast down his pride!
Herodes Rex
Now, kende knyghtys, be mery and glad,
With all good diligens shewe now sum myrth!
For, be gracyous Mahound, more myrth nevyr I had,
Ne nevyr more joye was inne from tyme of my byrth!
For now my fo is ded and prendyd as a padde.
Aboue me is no kynge on grownd nere on gerth.
Merthis, þerfore, make 3e, and be ryght nothynge sadde.
Spare nother mete nor drynke, and spare for no dyrthe
Of wyne nor of brede.
For now am I a kynge alone,
So wurthy as I may þer be none!
þerfore, knyghtys, be mery echone,
For now my fo is dede.
Now, kende knyghtys, be mery and glad,
With all good diligens shewe now sum myrth!
For, be gracyous Mahound, more myrth nevyr I had,
Ne nevyr more joye was inne from tyme of my byrth!
For now my fo is ded and prendyd as a padde.
Aboue me is no kynge on grownd nere on gerth.
Merthis, þerfore, make 3e, and be ryght nothynge sadde.
Spare nother mete nor drynke, and spare for no dyrthe
Of wyne nor of brede.
For now am I a kynge alone,
So wurthy as I may þer be none!
þerfore, knyghtys, be mery echone,
For now my fo is dede.
Primus Miles
Whan þe boys sprawlyd at my sperys hende,
By Sathanas oure syre, it was a goodly syght!
A good game it was þat boy for to shende
þat wolde a bene oure kynge and put 3ow from 3oure ryght.
Whan þe boys sprawlyd at my sperys hende,
By Sathanas oure syre, it was a goodly syght!
A good game it was þat boy for to shende
þat wolde a bene oure kynge and put 3ow from 3oure ryght.
Secundus Miles
Now trewly, my lorde þe kynge, we had ben vnhende,
And nevyr non of us able for to be a knyght,
If þat any of us to hem had ben a frende
And a savyd any lyff a3en þi mekyl myght,
From deth hem to flytt.
Now trewly, my lorde þe kynge, we had ben vnhende,
And nevyr non of us able for to be a knyght,
If þat any of us to hem had ben a frende
And a savyd any lyff a3en þi mekyl myght,
From deth hem to flytt.
Herodes Rex
Amongys all þat grett rowthte,
He is ded, I haue no dowte.
þerfore, menstrell, rownd abowte,
Blowe up a mery fytt!
Amongys all þat grett rowthte,
He is ded, I haue no dowte.
þerfore, menstrell, rownd abowte,
Blowe up a mery fytt!
Hic, dum buccinant, Mors interficiat Herodem et duos milites subito, et Diabolus recipiat eos
Diabolus
All oure! All oure! þis catel is myn!
I xall hem brynge onto my celle.
I xal hem teche pleys fyn,
And shewe such myrthe as is in helle!
It were more bettyr amongys swyn
þat evyrmore stynkyn, þerbe to dwelle,
For in oure logge is so gret peyn
þat non erthely tonge can telle!
With 3ow I go my way.
I xal 3ow bere forth with me
And shewe 3ow sportys of oure gle.
Of oure myrthis now xal 3e se
And evyr synge "Welaway!"
All oure! All oure! þis catel is myn!
I xall hem brynge onto my celle.
I xal hem teche pleys fyn,
And shewe such myrthe as is in helle!
It were more bettyr amongys swyn
þat evyrmore stynkyn, þerbe to dwelle,
For in oure logge is so gret peyn
þat non erthely tonge can telle!
With 3ow I go my way.
I xal 3ow bere forth with me
And shewe 3ow sportys of oure gle.
Of oure myrthis now xal 3e se
And evyr synge "Welaway!"
Mors
Off Kynge Herowde all men beware,
þat hath rejoycyd in pompe and pryde.
For all his boste of blysse ful bare,
He lyth now ded here on his syde.
For whan I come I cannot spare;
Fro me no whyht may hym hyde.
Now is he ded and cast in care
In helle pytt evyr to abyde —
His lordchep is al lorn.
Now is he as pore as I,
Wormys mete is his body.
His sowle in helle ful peynfully
Of develis is al to-torn.
Off Kynge Herowde all men beware,
þat hath rejoycyd in pompe and pryde.
For all his boste of blysse ful bare,
He lyth now ded here on his syde.
For whan I come I cannot spare;
Fro me no whyht may hym hyde.
Now is he ded and cast in care
In helle pytt evyr to abyde —
His lordchep is al lorn.
Now is he as pore as I,
Wormys mete is his body.
His sowle in helle ful peynfully
Of develis is al to-torn.
All men dwellyng upon þe grownde,
Beware of me, be myn councel;
For feynt felachep in me is fownde —
I kan no curtesy, as I 3ow tel!
For, be a man nevyr so sownde,
Of helth in herte nevyr so wel,
I come sodeynly within a stownde.
Me withstande may no castel!
My jurnay wyl I spede.
Of my comyng no man is ware,
For whan men make most mery fare,
þan sodeynly I cast hem in care,
And sle þem evyn in dede!
Beware of me, be myn councel;
For feynt felachep in me is fownde —
I kan no curtesy, as I 3ow tel!
For, be a man nevyr so sownde,
Of helth in herte nevyr so wel,
I come sodeynly within a stownde.
Me withstande may no castel!
My jurnay wyl I spede.
Of my comyng no man is ware,
For whan men make most mery fare,
þan sodeynly I cast hem in care,
And sle þem evyn in dede!
Thow I be nakyd and pore of array
And wurmys knawe me al abowte,
3it loke 3e drede me nyth and day;
For whan Deth comyth 3e stande in dowte!
Evyn lyke to me, as I 3ow say,
Shull all 3e be here in þis rowte,
Whan I 3ow chalange at my day,
I xal 3ow make ryght lowe to lowth
And nakyd for to be.
Amongys wormys, as I 3ow telle,
Vndyr þe erth xul 3e dwelle,
And thei xul etyn both flesch and felle,
As þei haue don me.
And wurmys knawe me al abowte,
3it loke 3e drede me nyth and day;
For whan Deth comyth 3e stande in dowte!
Evyn lyke to me, as I 3ow say,
Shull all 3e be here in þis rowte,
Whan I 3ow chalange at my day,
I xal 3ow make ryght lowe to lowth
And nakyd for to be.
Amongys wormys, as I 3ow telle,
Vndyr þe erth xul 3e dwelle,
And thei xul etyn both flesch and felle,
As þei haue don me.
2024 Mar 19 14:56:36