Herod the Great

Herode, the heynd, kyng / by grace of mahowne,
Of Iury, Iourmontyng / sternly with crowne,
On lyfe that ar lyfyng / in towre and, in towne,
Gracyus you gretyng / commaundys you be bowne
At his bydyng;
luf hym with lewte,
drede hym, that doughty!
he chargys you be redy
lowly at his lykyng.

What man apon mold, / menys hym agane,
Tytt teyn shall be told, knyght, sqwyere, or swayn;
Be he neuer so bold, / byes he that bargan,
Twelf thowsand fold, / more then I sayn
May ye trast;
he is worthy wonderly,
Selcouthly sory;
ffor a boy that is borne her by
Standys he abast.

A kyng thay hym call / and that we deny;
how shuld, it so fall / greatt meruell haue I;
Therfor ouer all / Shall I make a cry,
That ye busk not to brall / nor lyke not to ly
This tyde;
Carpys of no kyng
Bot herode, that lordyng,
Or busk to youre beyldyng,
youre heedys for to hyde.

He is Kyng of Kyngys / Kyndly I Knowe,
Chefe lord of lordyngys / chefe leder of law,
Ther watys on his wyngys / that bold, bost wyll blaw,
Greatt dukys downe dyngys / ffor his greatt aw,
And hym lowtys.
Tuskane and turky,
All Inde and Italy,
Cecyll and surry,
Drede hym and dowtys.

ffrom paradyse to padwa / to mownt flascon;
ffrom egyp to mantua / vnto kemp towne;
ffrom sarceny to susa / to grece it abowne;
Both normondy and norwa / lowtys to his crowne;
his renowne
Can no tong tell,
ffrom heuen vnto hell;
Of hym can none spell
Bot his cosyn mahowne.

he is the worthyest of all / barnes that are borne;
ffree men ar his thrall / full teynfully torne;
Begyn he to brall / many men cach skorne;
Obey must we all / or els be ye lorne
Att onys.
Downe dyng of youre knees,
All that hym seys,
Dysplesyd he beys,
And byrkyn many bonys.

here he commys now, I cry / that lord, I of spake;
ffast afore wyll I hy / radly on a rake,
And welcom hym worshipfully / laghyng with lake,
As he is most worthy / and knele for his sake
So low;
Downe dernly to fall,
as renk most ryall:
hayll, the worthyest of all!
to the must I bow!

hayll, luf lord! lo / thi letters haue I layde;
I haue done I couth do / and peasse haue I prayd,
Mekyll more therto / opynly dysplayd;
Bot romoure is rasyd so / that boldly thay brade
Emangis thame;
Thay carp of a kyng,
thay seasse not sich chateryng.

Stynt, brodels, youre dyn / yei, euerychon!
I red that ye harkyn / to I be gone,
ffor if I begyn / I breke ilka bone,
And pull fro the skyn / the carcas anone,
yei, perde!
Sesse all this wonder,
and make vs no blonder,
ffor I ryfe you in sonder,
Be ye so hardy.

Peasse both yong and old / at my bydyng, I red,
ffor I haue all in wold, / in me standys lyfe and dede;
who that is so bold / I brane hym thrugh the hede;
Speke not or I haue told, / what I will in this stede;
ye wote nott
All that I will mefe;
Styr not bot ye haue lefe,
ffor if ye do, I clefe
you small as flesh to pott.

My myrthes ar turned to teyn / my mekenes into Ire,
And all for oone I weyn / with-in I fare as fyre.
May I se hym with eyn / I shall gyf hym his hyre;
Bot I do as I meyn / I were a full lewde syre
In wonys;
had I that lad in hand,
As I am kyng in land,
I shuld with this steyll brand
Byrkyn all his bonys.

My name spryngys far and nere / the doughtyest, men me call,
That euer ran with spere / A lord and kyng ryall;
what ioy is me to here / A lad to sesse my stall!
If I this crowne may bere / that boy shall by for all.
I anger;
I wote not what dewill me alys,
Thay teyn me so with talys,
That by gottys dere nalys,
I wyll peasse no langer.

what dewill! me thynk I brast / ffor anger and for teyn;
I trow thyse kyngys be past / that here with me has beyn;
Thay promysed me full fast / or now here to be seyn,
ffor els I shuld, haue cast / an othere sleght, I weyn;
I tell you,
A boy thay sayd thay soght,
with offeryng that thay broght;
It mefys my hart right noght
To breke his nek in two.

Bot be thay past me by / by mahowne in heuen,
I shall, and that in hy / set all on sex and seuen;
Trow ye a kyng as I / will suffre thaym to neuen
Any to haue mastry / bot my self full euen?
Nay, leyfe!
The dewill me hang and draw,
If I that losell knaw,
Bot I gyf hym a blaw,
That lyfe I shall hym reyfe.

ffor parels yit I wold, / wyst if thay were gone;
And ye therof her told / I pray you say anone,
ffor and thay be so bold, / by god that syttys in trone,
The payn can not be told, / that thay shall haue ilkon,
ffor Ire;
Sich panys hard, neuer man tell,
ffor vgly and for fell,
That lucyfere in hell
Thare bonys shall all to-tyre.

ye ar knyghtys to trast! / nay, losels ye ar, and thefys;
I wote I yelde my gast / so sore my hart it grefys.

I wote not where I may sytt / for anger & for teyn;
we haue not done all yit / if it be as I weyn;
ffy! dewill! now how is it? / as long as I haue eyn
I think not for to flytt / bot kyng I will be seyn
ffor euer.
Bot stand I to quart,
I tell you my hart,
I shall gar thaym start,
Or els trust me neuer.

what couth we more do / to saue youre honoure?

Oone spake in myne eere / A wonderfull talkyng,
And sayde a madyn shuld, bere / anothere to be kyng;
Syrs, I pray you inquere / in all wrytyng,
In vyrgyll, in homere / And all other thyng
Bot legende;
Sekys poece tayllys;
lefe pystyls and grales;
Mes, matyns, noght avalys,
All these I defende;

I pray you tell heyndly / now what ye fynde.

"God is with vs," that is forto say.

ffy! the dewill the spede / and me, bot I drynk onys!
This has thou done in dede / to anger me for the nonys:
And thou, knafe, thou thy mede / shall haue, by cokys dere bonys!
Thou can not half thi crede! / outt, thefys, fro my wonys!
ffy, knafys!
ffy, dotty-pols, with youre bookys!
Go kast thaym in the brookys!
with sich wylys and crokys
My wytt away rafys!

hard I neuer sich a trant / that a knafe so sleght
Shuld, com lyke a sant / and refe me my right;
Nay, he shall on slant / I shall kyll hym downe stryght;
war! I say, lett me pant / now thynk I to fyght
ffor anger;
My guttys will outt thryng
Bot I this lad hyng;
withoutt I haue a vengyng,
I may lyf no langer.

Shuld a carll in a kafe / bot of oone yere age,
Thus make me to rafe? /

If I lyf in land / good lyfe, as I hope,
This dar I the warand / to make the Pope.
O, my hart is rysand / now in a glope!
ffor this nobyll tythand / thou shall haue a drope
Of my good grace;
Markys, rentys, and powndys,
Greatt castels & groundys;
Thrugh all sees and sandys
I gyf the the chace.

Now wyll I procede / and take veniance;
All the flowre of knyghthede / call to legeance;
Bewshere, I the byd / it may the avance.

In all the hast that ye may / in armowre full bright,
In youre best aray / looke that ye be dight.

To bedlem loke ye go / And all the coste aboute,
All knaue chyldren ye slo / and lordys, ye shalbe stoute;
Of yeres if they be two / and within, of all that rowte
On lyfe lyefe none of tho / that lygys in swedyll clowte,
I red you;
Spare no kyns bloode,
lett all ryn on floode,
If women wax woode;
I warn you, syrs, to spede you;

hens! now go youre way / that ye were thore.

Alas for shame and syn / alas that I was borne!
Of wepyng who may blyn / to se hir chylde forlorne?
My comforth and my kyn / my son thus alto torne!
veniance for this syn / I cry, both euyn and morne.

Outt! morder! man, I say / strang tratoure & thefe!
Out! alas! and waloway! / my child that was me lefe!
My luf, my blood, my play / that neuer dyd man grefe!
Alas, alas, this day! / I wold, my hart shuld, clefe
In sonder!
veniance I cry and call,
on herode and his knyghtys all!
veniance, lord, apon thaym fall,
And mekyll warldys wonder!

By god, thou shall aby this dede that thou has done.

Alas! my bab, myn Innocent / my fleshly get! for sorow
That god me derly sent / of bales who may me borow?
Thy body is all to-rent / I cry both euen and morow,
veniance for thi blod, thus spent / out! I cry, and horow!

Thay ar flayd now, I wote, thay will not abyde.

Ilkon to hym layd, and wed at his wyll.

Now in peasse may I stand / I thank the, mahowne!
And gyf of my lande / that longys to my crowne;
Draw therfor nerehande / both of burgh and of towne;
Markys ilkon a thowsande / when I am bowne,
Shall ye haue.
I shalbe full fayn
To gyf that I sayn!
wate when I com agayn,
And then may ye craue.

I sett by no good, / now my hart is at easse,
That I shed so mekyll blode / pes all my ryches!
ffor to se this flode / from the fote to the nese
Mefys nothing my mode / I lagh that I whese;
A, mahowne!
So light is my saull,
that all of Sugar is my gall;
I may do what I shall,
And bere vp my crowne.

I was castyn in care / so frightly afrayd,
Bot I thar not dyspare / for low is he layd
That I most dred are / so haue I hym flayd;
And els wonder ware / and so many strayd
In the strete,
That oone shuld be harmeles,
and skape away hafles,
where so many chyldes
Thare balys can not bete.

A hundreth thowsand, I watt / and fourty ar slayn,
And four thowsand; ther-at / me aght to be fayn;
Sich a morder on a flat / shall neuer be agayn.
had I had bot oone bat / at that lurdan
So yong,
It shuld, haue bene spokyn
how I had me wrokyn,
were I dede and rotyn,
with many a tong.

Thus shall I tech knauys / ensampyll to take,
In thare wyttys that rauys / sich mastre to make;
All wantones wafys / no langage ye crak!
No sufferan you sauys / youre nekkys shall I shak
In sonder;
No kyng ye on call
Bot on herode the ryall,
Or els many oone shall
Apon youre bodys wonder.

ffor if I here it spokyn / when I com agayn,
youre branys bese brokyn / therfor be ye bayn;
Nothyng bese vnlokyn / it shalbe so playn;
Begyn I to rekyn / I thynk all dysdayn
ffor daunche.
Syrs, this is my counsell-
Bese not to cruell,
Bot adew!-to the deuyll!
I can nomore fraunch!