The York plays

God
Ego sum Alpha et nouissimus.
I am gracyus and grete, God withoutyn begynnyng,
I am maker vnmade, all mighte es in me;
I am lyfe and way vnto welth-wynnyng,
I am formaste and fyrste, als I byd sall it be.
My blyssyng o ble sall be blendyng,
And heldand, fro harme to be hydande,
My body in blys ay abydande,
Vnendande, withoutyn any endyng.
Sen I am maker vnmade and most es of mighte,
And ay sall be endeles and noghte es but I,
Vnto my dygnyté dere sall diewly be dyghte
A place full of plenté to my plesyng at ply;
And therewith als wyll I haue wroght
Many dyuers doynges bedene,
Whilke warke sall mekely contene,
And all sall be made euen of noghte.
But onely the worthely warke of my wyll
In my sprete sall enspyre the mighte of me;
And in the fyrste, faythely, my thoghte to fullfyll,
Baynely in my blyssyng I byd at here be
A blys al-beledande abowte me,
In the whilke blys I byde at be here
Nyen ordres of aungels full clere,
In louyng ay-lastande at lowte me.
Here vndernethe me nowe a nexile I neuen,
Whilke ile sall be erthe. Now all be at ones
Erthe haly, and helle, this hegheste be heuen,
And that welth sall welde sall won in this wones.
This graunte I yoowe, mynysters myne,
To-whils yohe ar stabill in thoghte-
And also to thaime that ar noghte
Be put to my presone at pyne.
Of all the mightes I haue made, moste nexte after me
I make the als master and merour of my mighte;
I beelde the here baynely in blys for to be,
I name the for Lucifer, als berar of lyghte.
Nothyng here sall the be derand;
In this blis sall be yohour beeldyng,
And haue all welth in yooure weledyng,
Ay-whils yohe ar buxumly berande.

Angel 1
A, mercyfull maker, full mekill es thi mighte,
That all this warke at a worde worthely has wroghte.
Ay loued be that lufly lorde of his lighte,
That vs thus mighty has made that nowe was righte noghte,
In blys for to byde in his blyssyng.
Ay-lastande in luf lat vs lowte hym,
At beelde vs thus baynely abowete hym,
Of myrthe neuermore to haue myssyng.

Lucifer
All the myrth that es made es markide in me!
The bemes of my brighthode ar byrnande so bryghte,
And I so semely in syghte myselfe now I se,
For lyke a lorde am I lefte to lende in this lighte.
More fayrear be far than my feres,
In me is no poynte that may payre;
I fele me fetys and fayre,
My powar es passande my peres.

Cherabyn
Lorde, wyth a lastande luf we loue the allone,
Thou mightefull maker that markid vs and made vs,
And wroghte us thus worthely to wone in this wone,
Ther neuer felyng of fylth may full vs nor fade vs.
All blys es here beeldande aboute vs;
To-whyls we are stabyll in thoughte
In the worschipp of hym that us wroght,
Of dere neuer thar vs more dowte vs.

Angel 2
O, what I am fetys and fayre and fygured full fytt!
The forme of all fayrehede apon me es feste,
All welth in my weelde es, I wote be my wytte;
The bemes of my brighthede are bygged with the beste.
My schewyng es schemerande and schynande,
So bygly to blys am I broghte;
Me nedes for to noy me righte noghte,
Here sall neuer payne me be pynande.

Angel 1
With all the wytt at we welde we woyrschip thi wyll,
Thou gloryus God that es grunde of all grace;
Ay with stedefaste steuen lat vs stande styll,
Lorde, to be fede with the fode of thi fayre face.
In lyfe that es lely ay-lastande,
Thi dale, lorde, es ay daynetethly delande,
And whoso that fode may be felande-
To se thi fayre face-es noght fastande.

Lucifer
Owe, certes, what I am worthely wroghte with wyrschip, iwys!
For in a glorius gle my gleteryng it glemes;
I am so mightyly made my mirth may noghte mys-
Ay sall I byde in this blys thorowe brightnes of bemes.
Me nedes noghte of noy for to neuen,
All welth in my welde haue I weledande;
Abowne yohit sall I be beeldand,
On heghte in the hyeste of hewuen.
Ther sall I set myselfe full semely to seyghte,
To ressayue my reuerence thorowe righte o renowne;
I sall be lyke vnto hym that es hyeste on heghte.
Owe, what I am derworth and defte-Owe! Dewes! All goes downe!
My mighte and my mayne es all marrande-
Helpe, felawes! In faythe I am fallande.

Angel 2
Fra heuen are we heledande on all hande,
To wo are we weendande, I warande.

Lucifer
Owte! Owte! Harrowe! Helples, slyke hote at es here;
This es a dongon of dole that I am to dyghte.
Whare es my kynde become, so cumly and clere?
Nowe am I laytheste, allas, that are was lighte.
My bryghtnes es blakkeste and blo nowe,
My bale es ay betande and brynande-
That gares ane go gowlande and gyrnande.
Owte! Ay walaway! I well euen in wo nowe.

Diabolus
Owte! Owte! I go wode for wo, my wytte es all wente nowe,
All oure fode es but filth we fynde vs beforn.
We that ware beelded in blys, in bale are we brent nowe-
Owte on the Lucifer, lurdan, oure lyghte has thou lorne.
Thi dedes to this dole nowe has dyghte us,
To spill vs thou was oure spedar,
For thow was oure lyghte and oure ledar,
The hegheste of heuen hade thou hyght vs.

Lucifer
Walaway! Wa es me now, nowe es it war thane it was.
Vnthryuandely threpe yohe-I sayde but a thoghte.

Diabolus
We, lurdane, thou lost vs.

Lucifer
Yhe ly! Owte, allas!
I wyste noghte this wo sculde be wroghte.
Owte on yohow, lurdans, yohe smore me in smoke.

Diabolus
This wo has thou wroghte vs.

Lucifer
Yhe ly, yohe ly!

Diabolus
Thou lyes, and that sall thou by:
We, lurdane, haue at yoowe, lat loke!

Cherabyn
A, lorde, louid be thi name that vs this lyghte lente,
Sen Lucifer oure ledar es lighted so lawe,
For hys vnbuxumnes in bale to be brente-
Thi rightewysnes to rewarde on rowe
Ilke warke eftyr is wroghte-
Thorowe grace of thi mercyfull myghte
The cause I se itt in syghte,
Wharefore to bale he es broghte.

God
Those foles for thaire fayrehede in fantasyes fell,
And hade mayne of mi mighte that marked tham and made tham.
Forthi efter thaire warkes were, in wo sall thai well,
For sum ar fallen into fylthe that euermore sall fade tham,
And neuer sall haue grace for to gyrth tham.
So passande of power tham thoght tham,
Thai wolde noght me worschip that wroghte tham;
Forthi sall my wreth euer go with tham.
Ande all that me wyrschippe sall wone here, iwys;
Forthi more forthe of my warke, wyrke nowe I will.
Syn than ther mighte es for-marryde that mente all omys,
Euen to myne awne fygure this blys to fulfyll,
Mankynde of moulde will I make.
But fyrste wille I fourme hym before
All thyng that sall hym restore,
To whilke that his talente will take.
Ande in my fyrste makyng, to mustyr my mighte,
Sen erthe es vayne and voyde and myrknes emel,
I byd in my blyssyng yohe aungels gyf lyghte
To the erthe, for it faded when the fendes fell.
In hell sall neuer myrknes be myssande,
The myrknes thus name I for nighte;
The day, that call I this lyghte-
My after-warkes sall thai be wyssande.
Ande nowe in my blyssyng I twyne tham in two,
The nighte euen fro the day, so that thai mete neuer,
But ather in a kynde courese thaire gates for to go.
Bothe the nighte and the day, does dewly yohour deyuer,
To all I sall wirke be yohe wysshyng.
This day warke es done ilke a dele,
And all this warke lykes me ryght wele,
And baynely I gyf it my blyssyng.

God
In altissimis habito,
In the heghest heuyn my hame haue I;
Eterne mentis et ego,
Withoutyn ende ay-lastandly.
Sen I haue wroght thire worldys wyde,
Heuyn and ayre and erthe also,
My hegh Godhede I will noght hyde
All-yf sume foles be fallyn me fro.
When thai assent with syn of pride
Vp for to trine my trone vnto,
In heuyn thai myght no lengger byde
But wyghtly went to wone in wo;
And sen thai wrange haue wroght
My lyk ys to lat tham go,
To suffir sorowe onsoght,
Syne thai haue seruid so.
Thare mys may neuer be amende
Sen thai asent me to forsake,
For all there force non sall thame fende
For to be fendys foule and blake.
And tho that lykys with me to lende,
And trewly tent to me will take,
Sall wonne in welth withoutyn ende
And allway wynly with me wake;
Thai sall haue for thare sele
Solace that neuer sall sclake.
This warke me thynkys full wele
And more now will I make.
Syne that this world es ordand euyn,
Furth well I publysch my power:
Noght by my strenkyth, but by my steuyn
A firmament I byd apere,
Emange the waterris, lyght so leuyn,
There cursis lely for to lere,
And that same sall be namyd hewuyn,
With planitys and with clowdis clere.
The water I will be sent
To flowe bothe fare and nere,
And than the firmament
In mydis to set thame sere.
The firmament sal nough moue,
But be a mene, thus will I mene,
Ouir all the worlde to halde and houe,
And be tho tow wateris betwyne.
Vndir the heuyn and als aboue
The wateris serly sall be sene,
And so I wille my post proue
By creaturis of kyndis clene.
This warke his to my pay
Righit will, withoutyn wyne;
Thus sese the secunde day
Of my doyingys bydene.
Moo sutyll werkys assesay I sall,
For to be set in seruice sere:
All the waterris grete and smalle
That vndir heuyne er ordande here,
Gose togedir and holde yow all,
And be a flode festynde in fere,
So that the erthe, both downe and dale,
In drynesch playnly may apere.
The drynes ‘landé’ sall be
Namyd bothe ferre and nere,
And then I name the ‘sé’,
Geddryng of wateris clere.
The erthe sall fostyr and furthe bryng
Buxsumly, as I wyle byde,
Erbys and also othir thyng,
Well for to wax and worthe to wede;
Treys also tharon sall spryng
With braunchis and with bowis on brede,
With flouris fayr on heght to hyng
And fruth also to fylle and fede.
And thane I will that thay
Of themselfe haue the sede
And mater, that thay may
Be lastande furth in lede.
And all ther materis es in mynde
For to be made of mekyl might,
And to be kest in dyueris kynde
So for to bere sere burgvns bright.
And when ther frutys is fully fynde
And fayrest semande vnto syght,
Thane the wedris wete and wynde
Oway I will it wende full wyght;
And of there sede full sone
New rotys sall ryse vpright.
The third day thus is done,
Thire dedis er dewly dyght.
Now sene the erthe thus ordand es,
Mesurid and made by myn assent-
Grathely for to growe with gres
And wedis that sone away bese went-
Of my gudnes now will I ges,
So that my werkis no harmes hent,
Two lyghtis, one more and one lesse,
To be fest in the firmament.
The more light to the day
Fully suthely sall be sent,
The lesse lyght allway
To the nyght sall take entent.
Thir figuris fayre that furth er fun
Thus on sere sydys serue thai sall:
The more lyght sall be namid the son,
Dymnes to wast be downe and be dale.
Erbis and treys that er bygune
All sall he gouerne, gret and smale;
With cald yf thai be closid or bun
Thurgh hete of the sun thai sal be hale.
Als thei haue honours
In alkyn welth to wale,
So sall my creaturis
Euir byde withoutyn bale.
The son and the mone on fayre manere
Now grathly gange in yoour degré,
Als ye haue tane yooure curses clere
To serue furth loke ye be fre,
For ye sall set the sesons sere,
Kyndely to knowe in ilke cuntré,
Day fro day and yere fro yere
By sertayne signes suthly to se.
The heuyn sall be ouerhyld
With sternys to stand plenté.
The furth day his fulfillid,
This werke well lykys me.
Now sen thir werkis er wroght with wyne
And fundyn furth be firth and fell,
The see now will I set within
Whallis whikly for to dewell,
And othir fysch to flet with fyne-
Sum with skale and sum with skell,
Of diueris materis more and myn-
In sere maner to make and mell;
Sum sall be milde and meke,
And sum both fers and fell.
This world thus will I eke,
Syn I am witt of well.
Also vp in the ayre on hyght
I byd now that thore be ordande
For to be foulis fayre and bright,
Dewly in thare degré dewlland,
With fedrys fayre to frast ther flight
For stede to stede whore thai will stande,
And also leythly for to lyght
Whoreso tham lykis in ilke a londe.
Thane fysch and foulis sere,
Kyndely I yoow commande
To meng on yooure manere,
Both be se and sande.
This materis more yoitt will I mende,
So for to fulfill my forthoght,
With diueris bestis in lande to lende
To brede and be with balé furth brught.
And with bestis I wille be blende
Serpentis to be sene vnsoght,
And wormis vpon thaire wombis sall wende
To won in erth and worth to noght.
And so it sall be kende
How all that eme is oght,
Begynnyng, mydes and ende
I with my worde hase wrothe.
For als I byde bus all thyng be
And dewly done als I will dresse,
Now bestys ar sett in sere degré
On molde to moue, both more and lesse;
Thane foulis in ayre and fische in see
And bestis on erthe of bone and flesch,
I byde yoe wax furth fayre plenté
And grathly growes, als I yoow gesse.
So multiply yoe sall
Ay furth in fayre processe,
My blyssyng haue yoe all;
The fift day endyd es.

God
In heuyn and erthe duly bedene
Of v days werke, euyn onto ende,
I haue complete by curssis clene;
Methynke the space of thame well spende.
In heuyn er angels fayre and brighte,
Sternes and planetis ther curssis to ga,
The mone seruis onto the nyght
The son to lyghte the day alswa.
In erthe is treys and gres to springe,
Bestis and foulys, bothe gret and smalle,
Fyschis in flode, all othyr thyng
Thryffe and haue my blyssyng all.
Thys werke is wroght now at my will,
But yoet can I here no best see
That acordys be kynde and skyll,
And for my werke myght worschippe me.
For perfytt werke ne ware it nane
But ought ware made that myght it yoeme,
For loue mad I this warlde alane,
Therfor my loffe sall in it seme.
To kepe this warlde, bothe mare and lesse,
A skylfull best thane will I make
Eftyr my schape and my lyknes,
The wilke sall worschipe to me take.
Off the symplest part of erthe that is here
I sall make man, and for this skylle:
For to abate hys hauttande chere,
Bothe his gret pride and other ille;
And also for to haue in mynde
How simpyll he is at hys makyng,
For als febyll I sall hym fynde
Qwen he is dede at his endyng.
For this reson and skyll alane
I sall make man lyke onto me.
Ryse vp, thou erthe, in blode and bane,
In schape of man, I commaunde the.
A female sall thou haue to fere,
Her sall I make of thi lyft rybe,
Alane so sall thou nough be here
Withoutyn faythefull frende and sybe.
Takys now here the gast of lyffe
And ressayue bothe yooure saules of me;
This femall take thou to thi wyffe,
Adam and Eue yoour names sall be.

Adam
A, lorde, full mekyll is thi mighte
And that is sene in ilke a syde,
For now his here a ioyfull syght
To se this worlde so lange and wyde.
Mony diueris thyngis now here es,
Off bestis and foulis bathe wylde and tame;
Yet is nan made to thi liknes
But we alone-A, louyd by thi name.

Eue
To swylke a lorde in all degré
Be euirmore lastande louynge,
That tyll vs swylke a dyngnité
Has gyffyne before all othyr thynge;
And selcouth thyngis may we se here
Of this ilke warld so lange and brade,
With bestis and fowlis so many and sere;
Blessid be he that hase us made.

Adam
A, blyssid lorde, now at thi wille
Syne we er wroght, wochesaff to telle
And also say vs two vntyll
Qwate we sall do and whare to dewell?

God
For this skyl made I yoow this day,
My name to worschip ay-whare;
Louys me, forthi, and louys me ay
For my makyng, I axke no mare.
Bothe wys and witty sall thou be,
Als man that I haue made of noght;
Lordschipe in erthe than graunt I the,
All thynge to serue the that I haue wroght.
In paradyse sall yoe same wone,
Of erthely thyng get yoe no nede,
Ille and gude both sall yoe kone,
I sall yoou lerne yooure lyue to lede.

Adam
A, lorde, sene we sall do no thyng
But louffe the for thi gret gudnesse,
We sall ay bay to thi biddyng
And fulfyll it, both more and less.

Eue
His syng sene he has on vs sett
Beforne all othir thyng certayne,
Hym for to loue we sall noght lett
And worschip hym with myght and mayne.

God
At heuyne and erth first I begane
And vj days wroght or I walde ryst;
My warke is endyde now at mane,
All lykes me will, but this is best.
My blyssyng haue thai ever and ay.
The seueynt day sall my restyng be,
Thus wille I sese, sothely to say,
Of my doying in this degré.
To blys I sall yoow bryng,
Comys forth, yoe tow, with me;
Ye sall lyffe in lykyng-
My blyssyng wyth yoow be. Amen.

God
In heuyn and erthe duly bedene
Of v daies werke evyn vnto the ende,
I haue complete by courssis clene-
Methynketh the space of tham wele spende.
In heuen ar aungels faire and bright,
Sternes and planetis ther courses to goo,
The mone serues vnto the nyghte,
The sonne to lighte the day also.
In erthe is trees and gresse to springe,
Beestes and foules bothe grete and smale,
Fisshys in flode, all othir thynge,
Thryffe and haue my blissynge alle.
This werke is wrought nowe at my wille,
But yitte can I here no beste see
That accordes by kyndly skylle,
And for my werke myght worshippe me.
For parfite werke ne wer it none
But oughte wer made that myghte it yoeme,
For loue made I this worlde alone,
Therfore my loue shalle in it seme.
To kepe this worlde bothe more and lesse
A skylfull beeste than will Y make
Aftir my shappe and my liknesse,
The whilke shalle wirshippe to me take.
Of the sympylest parte of erthe that is here
I schalle make man, and for this skylle,
For to abate his hauttande cheere,
Bothe his grete pride and othir ille;
And also for to haue in mynde
Howe symple he is at his makynge,
For als febill I shalle hym fynde
Qwen he is dede at his endynge.
For this reasonne and skille allone
I schalle make man like vnto me.
Rise vppe, thou erthe, in bloode and bone,
In shappe of man, I comaunde the.
A female shalte thou haue to feere,
Here schalle Y make of thy lefte rybbe,
Allone so shalle thou nought be heere,
Withoutyn faithfull freende and sibbe.
Takis nowe here the goste of liffe,
And ressayue bothe youre soules of me,
This femalle take thou to thi wiffe-
Adam and Eue youre names schalle bee.

Adam
A, lord, ful mekill is thi myght,
And that is seene in ilke a side,
For nowe is here a joifull sighte,
To see this worlde so longe and wide.
Many dyuerse thynges nowe here is,
Of beestis and foules bothe wilde and tame,
Yitte is non made to thi liknesse
But we allone-a, loued be thy name.

Eue
To swilke a lorde in alle degree
Be euermore lastand louynge,
That to vs such a dyngnyté
Has geffynne before all othir thynge.
And selcouthe thynges may we see heere
Of this ilke worlde so longe and broode,
With beestes and foules so many and seere,
Blyssed be hee that hase vs made.

Adam
A, blissed lorde, nowe at thi wille
Sethen we are wrought, wouchesaffe to telle
And also saie vs two vntille
Whatte we schalle do and where to dwelle.

God
For this skille made Y you this daye,
My name to worschippe ay-where.
Lovis me forthy, and loues me aye
For my makyng-I aske no more.
Bothe wyse and witty shalle thou bee
Als man, that Y haue made of nought,
Lordshippe in erthe than graunte Y the,
Alle thynge to serue the that is wrought.
In pardise shalle ye same wonne,
Of erthely thyng gete yoe no nede,
Ille and goode bothe shalle yoe konne,
I shalle you lerne youre lyffe to leede.

Adam
A, lord, sene we shalle do no thynge
But loue the for thy grette goodnesse,
We shalle abeye to thi biddyng,
And fulfille it, bothe more and lees.

Eue
Hys syngne sen he has on vs sette
Before al othir thyng certayne,
Hym for to loue we schal not lette,
And worshippe hym with myghte and mayne.

God
At heuene and erthe firste I beganne,
And vj daies wroughte or Y wolde reste,
My werke is endid nowe at mane;
Alle likes me wele, but this the beste.
My blissynge haue they euer and ay.
The seuynte day shal my restyng be,
Thus wille I sese, sothly to say,
Of my doyng in this degree.
To blisse I schal you brynge,
Comes forthe yoe two with me.
Ye shalle lyff in likyng:
My blissyng with you be. Amen.

God
Adam and Eve, this is the place
That I haue graunte you of my grace
To haue your wonnyng in.
Erbes, spyce, frute on tree,
Beastes, fewles, all that ye see
Shall bowe to you, more and myn.
This place hight paradyce,
Here shall your joys begynne;
And yf that ye be wyse,
Frome thys tharr ye never twyn.
All your wyll here shall ye haue,
Lykyng for to eate or sayff
Fyshe, fewle or fee;
And for to take at your owen wyll
All other creatours also theretyll,
Your suggettes shall they bee.
Adam, of more and lesse,
Lordeship in erthe here graunte I the;
Thys place that worthy is,
Kepe it in honestye.
Looke that ye yoem ytt wetterly;
All other creatours shall multeply,
Ylke one in tender hower.
Looke that ye bothe saue and sett
Erbes and treys; for nothyng lett,
So that ye may endower
To susteyn beast and man,
And fewll of ylke stature.
Dwell here yf that ye cann,
This shall be your endowre.

Adam
O lorde, lovyd be thy name,
For nowe is this a joyfull hame
That thowe hais brought vs to,
Full of myrthe and solys faughe,
Erbes and trees, frute on haugh,
Wyth spysys many one hoo.
Loo, Eve, nowe ar we brought
Bothe vnto rest and rowe,
We neyd to tayke no thought,
But loke ay well to doo.

Eue
Lovyng be ay to suche a lord,
To vs hais geven so great reward
To governe bothe great and small,
And mayd vs after his owen read,
[…     …]
Emonges these myrthes all.
Here is a joyfull sight
Where that wee wonn in shall;
We love the, mooste of myght,
Great God, that we on call.

God
Love my name with good entent
And harken to my comaundement,
And do my byddyng buxomly:
Of all the frute in parradyce,
Tayke ye therof of your best wyse
And mayke you right merry.
The tree of good and yll,
What tyme you eates of thys
Thowe speydes thyself to spyll,
And be brought owte of blysse.
All thynges is mayd, man, for thy prowe,
All creatours shall to the bowe
That here is mayd erthly;
In erthe I mayke the lord of all,
And beast vnto the shall be thrall,
Thy kynd shall multeply.
Therefore this tree alone,
Adam, this owte-take I;
The frute of it negh none,
For an ye do, then shall ye dye.

Adam
Alas lorde, that we shuld do so yll,
Thy blyssed byddyng we shall fulfyll
Bothe in thought and deyd;
We shall no negh thys tre nor the bugh,
Nor yit the fruyte that thereon groweth
Therewith oure fleshe to feyd.

Eue
We shall do thy byddyng,
We haue none other neyd;
Thys frute full styll shall hyng,
Lorde, that thowe hays forbyd.

God
Looke that ye doe as ye haue sayd,
Of all that there is hold you apayd,
For here is welthe at wyll.
Thys tre that beres the fruyte of lyfe,
Luke nother thowe nor Eve thy wyf
Lay ye no handes theretyll.
For-why it is knowyng
Bothe of good and yll,
This frute but ye lett hyng
Ye speyd yourself to spyll.
Forthy this tree that I owt-tayke,
Nowe kepe it grathly for my sayke,
That nothyng negh it neyre;
All other at your wyll shall be,
I owte-take nothyng but this tree,
To feyd you with in feare.
Here shall ye leyd your lyffe
With dayntys that is deare;
Adam, and Eve thy wyfe,
My blyssyng haue ye here.

Satan
For woo my witte es in a were
That moffes me mykill in my mynde;
The Godhede that I sawe so cleere,
And parsayued that he shuld take kynde
Of a degree
That he had wrought, and I dedyned
That aungell kynde shuld it noyot be;
And we wer faire and bright,
Therfore me thoght that he
The kynde of vs tane myght,
And therat dedeyned me.
The kynde of man he thoght to take
And theratt hadde I grete envye,
But he has made to hym a make,
And harde to her I wol me hye
That redy way,
That purpose proue to putte it by,
And fande to pike fro hym that pray.
My trauayle were wele sette
Myght Y hym so betraye,
His likyng for to lette,
And sone I schalle assaye.
In a worme liknes wille Y wende,
And founde to feyne a lowde lesynge.
Eue, Eue.

Eue
What es thare?

Satan
I, a frende.
And for thy gude es the comynge
I hydir sought.
Of all the fruyt that ye se hynge
In paradise, why ete yoe noght?

Eue
We may of tham ilkane
Take al that vs goode thought,
Save a tree outt is tane,
Wolde do harme to neyghe it ought.

Satan
And why that tree, that wolde I witte,
Any more than all othir by?

Eue
For oure lord God forbeedis vs itt,
The frute therof, Adam nor I
To neghe it nere;
And yf we dide we both shuld dye,
He saide, and sese our solace sere.

Satan
Yha, Eue, to me take tente;
Take hede and thou shalte here
What that the matere mente
He moved on that manere.
To ete therof he you defende
I knawe it wele, this was his skylle:
Bycause he wolde non othir kende
Thes grete vertues that longes thertill.
For will thou see,
Who etis the frute of goode and ille
Shalle haue knowyng as wele as hee.

Eue
Why, what-kynne thyng art thou
That telles this tale to me?

Satan
A worme, that wotith wele how
That yhe may wirshipped be.

Eue
What wirshippe shulde we wynne therby?
To ete therof vs nedith it nought,
We have lordshippe to make maistrie
Of alle thynge that in erthe is wrought.

Satan
Woman, do way!
To gretter state ye may be broughte
And ye will do as I schall saye.

Eue
To do is vs full lothe
That shuld oure God myspaye.

Satan
Nay, certis it is no wathe,
Ete it saffely ye maye.
For perille ryght ther none in lyes,
Bot worshippe and a grete wynnynge,
For right als God yhe shalle be wyse
And pere to hym in all-kyn thynge.
Ay, goddis shalle ye be,
Of ille and gode to haue knawyng,
For to be als wise as he.

Eue
Is this soth that thou sais?

Satan
Yhe, why trowes thou noyot me?
I wolde be no-kynnes wayes
Telle noyot but trouthe to the.

Eue
Than wille I to thy techyng traste
And fange this frute vnto oure foode.

Satan
Byte on boldly, be nought abasshed,
And bere Adam to amende his mode
And eke his blisse.

Eue
Adam, have here of frute full goode.

Adam
Alas woman, why toke thou this?
Owre lorde comaunded vs bothe
To tente the tree of his.
Thy werke wille make hym wrothe-
Allas, thou hast don amys.

Eue
Nay Adam, greve the nought at it,
And I shal saie the reasonne why.
A worme has done me for to witte
We shalle be as goddis, thou and I,
Yf that we ete
Here of this tree; Adam, forthy
Lette noght that worshippe for to gete.
For we shalle be als wise
Als God that is so grete,
And als mekill of prise;
Forthy ete of this mete.

Adam
To ete it wolde Y nought eschewe
Myght I me sure in thy saying.

Eue
Byte on boldely, for it is trewe,
We shalle be goddis and knawe al thyng.

Adam
To wynne that name
I schalle it taste at thy techyng.
Allas, what haue I done, for shame!
Ille counsaille, woo worthe the!
A, Eue, thou art to blame,
To this entysed thou me-
Me shames with my lyghame,
For I am naked as methynke.

Eue
Allas Adam, right so am I.

Adam
And for sorowe sere why ne myght we synke,
For we haue greved God almyghty
That made me man-
Brokyn his bidyng bittirly.
Allas that euer we it began.
This werke, Eue, hast thou wrought,
And made this bad bargayne.

Eue
Nay Adam, wite me nought.

Adam
Do wey, lefe Eue, whame than?

Eue
The worme to wite wele worthy were,
With tales vntrewe he me betrayed.

Adam
Allas, that I lete at thy lare
Or trowed the trufuls that thou me saide.
So may I byde,
For I may banne that bittir brayde
And drery dede, that I it dyde.
Oure shappe for doole me defes,
Wherewith thay shalle be hydde.

Eue
Late vs take there fygge-leves,
Sythen it is thus betydde.

Adam
Ryght as thou sais so shalle it bee,
For we are naked and all bare;
Full wondyr fayne I wolde hyde me
Fro my lordis sight, and I wiste whare,
Where I ne roght.

God
Adam, Adam.

Adam
Lorde.

God
Where art thou, yhare?

Adam
I here the lorde and seys the noyot.

God
Say, wheron is it longe,
This werke why hast thou wrought?

Adam
Lorde, Eue garte me do wronge
And to that bryg me brought.

God
Say, Eue, why hast thou garte thy make
Ete frute I bad the shuld hynge stille,
And comaunded none of it to take?

Eue
A worme, lorde, entysed me thertill;
So welaway,
That euer I did that dede so dill.

God
A, wikkid worme, woo worthe the ay
For thou on this maner
Hast made tham swilke affraye;
My malysoune haue thou here
With all the myght Y may.
And on thy wombe than shall thou glyde,
And be ay full of enmyté
To al mankynde on ilke a side,
And erthe it shalle thy sustynaunce be
To ete and drynke.
Adam and Eue alsoo, yhe
In erthe than shalle ye swete and swynke,
And trauayle for youre foode.

Adam
Allas, whanne myght we synke,
We that haues alle worldis goode
Ful derfly may vs thynke.

God
Now Cherubyn, myn aungell bryght,
To middilerth tyte go dryve there twoo.

Angel
Alle redy lorde, as it is right,
Syn thy wille is that it be soo,
And thy lykyng.
Adam and Eue, do you to goo,
For here may yoe make no dwellyng;
Goo yhe forthe faste to fare,
Of sorowe may yhe synge.

Adam
Allas, for sorowe and care
Oure handis may we wryng.

Angel
Alle creatures to me take tent,
Fro God of heuen now am I sent
Vnto the wrecchis that wronge has went
Thaymself to woo;
The joie of heuen that thaym was lent
Is lost thaym froo.
Fro thaym is loste bothe game and glee;
He badde that thei schuld maistirs be
Ouer alle-kynne thyng, oute-tane a tree
He taught them tille;
And therto wente bothe she and he,
Agayne his wille.
Agaynst his wille thus haue they wrought,
To greeffe grete God gaffe they right noght,
That wele wytt ye;
And therfore syte is to thaym sought,
As ye shalle see.
The fooles that faithe is fallen fra
Take tente to me nowe, or ye ga;
Fro God of heuen vnto yow twa
Sente am I nowe,
For to warne you what-kynne wa
Is wrought for you.

Adam
For vs is wrought, so welaway,
Doole endurand nyghte and day;
The welthe we wende haue wonnyd in ay
Is loste vs fra.
For this myscheffe ful wele we may
euer mornyng ma.

Angel
Adam, thyselffe made al this syte,
For to the tree thou wente full tyte
And boldely on the frute gan byte
My lord forbed.

Adam
Yaa, allas, my wiffe that may I wite,
For scho me red.

Angel
Adam, for thou trowyd hir tale,
He sendis the worde and sais thou shale
Lyffe ay in sorowe,
Abide and be in bittir bale
Tille he the borowe.

Adam
Allas, wrecchis, what haue we wrought?
To byggly blys we bothe wer brought;
Whillis we wer thare
We hadde inowe, nowe haue we noghte-
Allas, for care.

Eue
Oure cares ar comen bothe kyne and colde,
With fele fandyngis manyfolde;
Allas, that tyraunte to me tolde,
Thurghoute his gyle,
That we shulde haue alle welthis in walde,
Wa worthe the whyle.

Angel
That while yee wrought vnwittely,
Soo for to greue God almyghty,
And that mon ye full dere abye
Or that ye go;
And to lyffe, as is worthy,
In were and wo.
Adam, haue this, luke howe ye thynke,
And tille withalle thi meete and drynke
For euermore.

Adam
Allas, for syte why ne myght Y synke,
So shames me sore.

Eue
Soore may we shame with sorowes seere,
And felly fare we bothe in feere;
Alas, that euyr we neghed it nere,
That tree vntill.
With dole now mon we bye full dere
Oure dedis ille.

Angel
Giffe for thou beswyked hym swa,
Trauell herto shalle thou ta,
Thy barnes to bere with mekill wa-
This warne I the.
Buxom shalle thou and othir ma
To man ay be.

Eue
Allas for doole, what shall Y doo,
Now mon I neuer haue rest ne roo.

Adam
Nay, lo, swilke a tole is taken me too
To trauaylle tyte;
Nowe is shente both I and shoo,
Allas, for syte.
Allas, for syte and sorowe sadde,
Mournynge makis me mased and madde,
To thynke in herte what helpe Y hadde
And nowe has none.
On grounde mon I neuyr goo gladde,
My gamys ere gane.
Gone ar my games withowten glee;
Allas, in blisse kouthe we noyot bee,
For putte we were to grete plenté
At prime of the day;
Be tyme of none alle lost had wee,
Sa welawaye.
Sa welaway, for harde peyne,
Alle bestis were to my biddyng bayne,
Fisshe and fowle, they were fulle fayne
With me to founde.
And nowe is alle thynge me agayne
That gois on grounde.
On grounde ongaynely may Y gange,
To suffre syte and peynes strange,
Alle is for dede I haue done wrange
Thurgh wykkid wyle.
On lyve methynkith I lyffe to lange,
Allas the whille.
A, lord, I thynke what thynge is this
That me is ordayned for my mysse;
Gyffe I wirke wronge, who shulde me wys
Be any waye?
How beste wille be, so haue Y blisse,
I shalle assaye.
Allas, for bale, what may this bee?
In worlde vnwisely wrought haue wee,
This erthe it trembelys for this tree
And dyns ilke dele!
Alle this worlde is wrothe with mee,
This wote I wele.
Full wele Y wote my welthe is gone,
Erthe, elementis, euerilkane
For my synne has sorowe tane,
This wele I see.
Was neuere wrecchis so wylle of wane
As nowe ar wee.

Eue
We are fulle wele worthy iwis
To haue this myscheffe for oure mys,
For broght we were to byggely blys,
Euer in to be.
Now my sadde sorowe certis is this
Mysilfe to see.

Adam
To see it is a sytfull syghte,
We bothe that were in blis so brighte,
We mon go nakid euery ilke a nyghte
And dayes bydene,
Allas, what womans witte was light!
That was wele sene.

Eue
Sethyn it was so me knyth it sore,
Bot sethyn that woman witteles ware
Mans maistrie shulde haue bene more
Agayns the gilte.

Adam
Nay, at my speche wolde thou never spare,
That has vs spilte.

Eue
Iff I hadde spoken youe oughte to spill
Ye shulde haue taken gode tent theretyll,
And turnyd my thought.

Adam
Do way, woman, and neme it noght,
For at my biddyng wolde thou not be
And therfore my woo wyte Y thee;
Thurgh ille counsaille thus casten ar we
In bitter bale.
Nowe God late never man aftir me
Triste woman tale.
For certis me rewes fulle sare
That euere I shulde lerne at thi lare,
Thy counsaille has casten me in care,
That thou me kende.

Eue
Be stille Adam, and nemen it na mare,
It may not mende.
For wele I wate I haue done wrange,
And therfore euere I morne emange,
Allas the whille I leue so lange,
Dede wolde I be.

Adam
On grounde mon I never gladde gange,
Withowten glee.
Withowten glee I ga,
This sorowe wille me sla,
This tree vnto me wille I ta
That me is sende.
He that vs wrought wisse vs fro wa,
Whare-som we wende.

Angel
That lord of lyffe lele ay-lastand
Whos myght vnmesured is to meyne,
He shoppe the sonne, bothe see and sande,
And wroughte this worlde with worde, I wene.
His aungell cleere as cristall clene,
Here vnto you thus am I sente
This tide.
Abell and Cayme, yei, both bydeyne
To me enteerly takis entent;
To meve my message haue I ment
If that ye bide.
Allemyghty God of myghtes moste,
When he had wrought this world so wide,
No thynge hym thoughte was wroughte in waste,
But in his blissyng boune to bide
Neyne ordurs for to telle, that tyde,
Of aungeles bryght he bad ther be.
For pride
And sone the tente part it was tried,
And wente awaye as was worthye;
They heild to helle alle that meyné
Therin to bide.
Thanne made he manne to his liknes
That place of price for to restore,
And sithen he kyd hym such kyndnes
Somwhat wille he wirke therfore:
The tente to tyne he askis, no more,
Of alle the goodes he haues you sent.
Full trew
To offyr loke that ye be yore,
And to my tale yhe take entent,
For ilke a lede that liffe has lente
So shalle you sewe.

Abel
Gramercy God, of thy goodnes
That me on molde has marked thi man,
I worshippe the with worthynes,
With alle the comforte that I can.
Me for to were fro warkes wanne,
For to fulfille thy comaundement,
The teynd
Of alle the gode sen I beganne
Thow shalle it haue, sen thou it sent.
Come, brothir Cayme, I wolde we wente
With hert ful hende.

Cain
We! Whythir now, in wilde waneand?
Trowes thou I thynke to trusse of towne?
Goo, jape the, robard jangillande,
Me liste noyot nowe to rouk nor rowne.

Abel
A, dere brothir, late vs be bowne
Goddis biddyng blithe to fulfille,
I tell the.

Cain
Ya, daunce in the devil way, dresse the downe,
For I wille wyrke euen as I will.
What mystris the, in gode or ille,
Of me to melle the?

Abel
To melle of the myldely I may.
Bote goode brothir, go we in haste,
Gyffe God oure teynde dulye this day-
He byddis vs thus, be nouyot abassed.

Cain
Ya, deuell, methynketh that werke were waste,
That he vs gaffe geffe hym agayne
To se.
Nowe fekyll frenshippe for to fraste
Methynkith ther is in hym sarteyne.
If he be moste in myghte and mayne
What nede has he?

Abel
He has non nede vnto thi goode,
But it wille please hym principall
If thou, myldly in mayne and moode,
Grouche noyot geue hym tente parte of all.
[…     …]

Angel
It shall be done evyn as ye bydd,
And that anone.

Brewbarret
Lo, maister Cayme, what shaves bryng I,
Evyn of the best for to bere seyd,
And to the feylde I wyll me hye
To fetch you moo, if ye haue neyd.

Cain
Cume vp, sir knave, the devyll the speyd,
Ye will not come but ye be prayd.

Brewbarret
O, maister Caym, I haue broken my to!

Cain
Come vp syr, for by my thryft,
Ye shall drynke or ye goo.

Angel
Thowe cursyd Came, where is Abell?
Where hais thowe done thy broder dere?

Cain
What askes thowe me that taill to tell,
For yit his keper was I never?

Angel
God hais sent the his curse downe,
Fro hevyn to hell, maladictio dei.

Cain
Take that thyself, evyn on thy crowne,
Quia non sum custos fratris mei,
To tyne.

Angel
God hais sent the his malyson,
And inwardly I geve the myne.

Cain
The same curse light on thy crowne,
And right so myght it worth and be
For he that sent that gretyng downe,
The devyll myght speyd both hym and the.
Fowll myght thowe fall!
Here is a cankerd company,
Therefore Goddes curse light on you all.

Angel
What hast thou done? Beholde and heere,
The voice of his bloode cryeth vengeaunce
Fro erthe to heuen, with voice entere
This tyde.
That God is greved with thy greuaunce
Take hede, I schalle telle the tydandis,
Therfore abide.
Thou shall be curssed vppon the grounde,
God has geffyn the his malisonne;
Yff thou wolde tyll the erthe so rounde
No frute to the ther shalle be fonne.
Of wikkidnesse sen thou arte sonne,
Thou shalle be waferyng here and there
This day.
In bittir bale nowe art thou boune,
Out-castyn shal thou be for care;
No man shal rewe of thy misfare
For this affraie.

Cain
Allas for syte, so may I saye,
My synne it passis al mercie,
For ask it the lord I ne maye,
To haue it am I nouyot worthy.
Fro the shalle I be hidde in hye,
Thou castis me, lorde, oute of my kyth
In lande.
Both here and there oute-caste am I,
For ilke a man that metis me with
They wille slee me, be fenne or frith,
With dynte of hande.

Angel
Nay Cayme, nouyot soo, haue thou no drede;
Who that the slees shalle ponnysshed be
Sevene sithis for doyng of that dede.
Forthy a token shal thou see,
It shalle be prentyd so in the
That ilke a man shalle the knowe full wele.

Cain
Thanne wolle I fardir flee
For shame.
Sethen I am sette thus out of seill,
That curse that I haue for to feill,
I giffe you the same.

God
Fyrst qwen I wrought this world so wyde,
Wode and wynde and watters wane,
Heuyn and helle was noght to hyde,
Wyth herbys and gyrse thus I begane.
In endles blysse to be and byde.
And to my liknes made I man,
Lorde and syre on ilke a side
Of all medillerthe I made hym than.
A woman also with hym wroght I,
Alle in lawe to lede ther lyffe,
I badde thame waxe and multiplye,
To fulfille this worlde, withowtyn striffe.
Sythn hays men wroght so wofully
And synne is nowe reynand so ryffe,
That me repentys and rewys forthi
That ever I made outhir man or wiffe.
Bot sen they make me to repente
My werke I wroght so wele and trewe,
Wythowtyn seys will noght assente,
Bot euer is bowne more bale to brewe.
Bot for ther synnes thai shall be shente
And fordone hoyly, hyde and hewe;
Of tham shal no more be mente,
Bot wirke this werke I wille al newe.
Al newe I will this worlde be wroght
And waste away that wonnys therin,
A flowyd above thame shall be broght
To stroye medilerthe, both more and myn.
Bot Noe alon, lefe shal it noght
To all be sownkyn for ther synne;
He and his sones, thus is my thoght,
And with ther wyffes away sall wynne.
Nooe, my seruand sad an cleyn,
For thou art stabill in stede and stalle,
I wyll thou wyrke withowten weyn
A warke to saffe thiselfe wythall.

Noah
O, mercy lorde, qwat may this meyne?

God
I am thi Gode of grete and small
Is comyn to telle the of thy teyn,
And qwat ferly sall eftir fall.

Noah
A, lorde, I lowe the lowde and still
That vnto me-wretche vnworthye-
Thus with thy worde, as is thi will,
Lykis to appere thus propyrly.

God
Nooe, as I byd the, doo fulfill:
A shippe I will haue wroght in hye;
All-yf thou can litill skyll,
Take it in hande, for helpe sall I.

Noah
A, worthy lorde, wolde thou take heede,
I am full olde and oute of qwarte,
That me liste do no daies dede
Bot yf gret mystir me garte.

God
Begynne my werke behoves the nede
And thou wyll passe from peynes smerte,
I sall the sokoure and the spede
And giffe the hele in hede and hert.
I se such ire emonge mankynde
That of thare werkis I will take wreke;
Thay shall be sownkyn for thare synne,
Therfore a shippe I wille thou make.
Thou and thi sonnes shall be therin,
They sall be sauyd for thy sake.
Therfore go bowdly and begynne
Thy mesures and thy markis to take.

Noah
A, lorde, thi wille sall euer be wroght
Os counsill gyfys of ilka clerk,
Bot first, of shippe-craft can I right noght;
Of ther makyng haue I no merke.

God
Noe, I byd the hartely haue no thought,
I sall the wysshe in all thi werke,
And even to itt till ende be wroght;
Therfore to me take hede and herke.
Take high trees and hewe thame cleyne,
All be sware and noght of skwyn,
Make of thame burdes and wandes betwene
Thus thrivandly, and noght ouer-thyn.
Luke that thi semes be suttilly seyn
And naylid wele that thei noght twyne;
Thus I deuyse ilk dele bedeyne,
Therfore do furthe, and leue thy dyne.
iij C cubyttis it sall be lang,
And fyfty brode, all for thy blys;
The highte, of thyrty cubittis strang,
Lok lely that thou thynke on this.
Thus gyffe I the grathly or I gang
Thi mesures, that thou do not mysse.
Luk nowe that thou wirke noght wrang
Thus wittely sen I the wyshe.

Noah
A, blistfull lord, that al may beylde,
I thanke the hartely both euer and ay;
Fyfe hundreth wyntres I am of elde-
Methynk ther yoeris as yestirday.
Ful wayke I was and all vnwelde,
My werynes is wente away,
To wyrk this werke here in this feylde
Al be myselfe I will assaye.
To hewe this burde I wyll begynne,
But firste I wille lygge on my lyne;
Now bud it be alle inlike thynne,
So that it nowthyr twynne nor twyne.
Thus sall I june it with a gynn
And sadly sett it with symonde fyne:
Thus schall I wyrke it both more and mynne
Thurgh techyng of God, maistir myne.
[…     …]
More suttelly kan no man sewe;
It sall be cleyngked euerilka dele
With nayles that are both noble and newe,
Thus sall I feste it fast to feele.
Take here a revette, and there a rewe,
With ther the bowe nowe wyrke I wele;
This werke I warand both gud and trewe.
Full trewe it is who will take tente,
Bot faste my force begynnes to fawlde.
A hundereth wyntres away is wente
Sen I began this werk, full grathely talde,
And in slyke trauayle for to be bente
Is harde to hym that is thus olde.
But he that to me this messages sent
He wille be my beylde, thus am I bowde.

God
Nooe, this werke is nere an ende
And wrought right as I warned the.
Bot yit in maner it must be mende,
Therfore this lessoun lerne at me:
For dyuerse beestis therin must lende,
And fewles also in there degree,
And for that thay sall not sam blende
Dyuerse stages must ther be.
And qwen that it is ordand soo
With dyuerse stawllys and stagis seere,
Of ilka kynde thou sall take twoo,
Bothe male and femalle fare in fere.
Thy wyffe, thy sonnes, with the sall goo
And thare thre wyffes, withowten were;
There viij bodies withowten moo
Sall thus be saued on this manere.
Therfore to my biddyng be bayne,
Tille all be herberd haste the faste;
Eftir the vij day sall it rayne
Tille fowrty dayes be fully paste.
Take with the geere sclyk os may gayne
To man and beeste thare lyffes to laste.
I sall the socoure for certeyne
Tille alle thi care awey be kaste.

Noah
A, lorde, that ilka mys may mende,
I lowe thi lare both lowde and stille,
I thanke the both with herte and hende,
That me wille helpe fro angrys hill.
Abowte this werke now bus me wende
With beestys and fewlys my shippe to fill.
He that to me this Crafte has kende,
He wysshe vs with his worthy wille.

Noah
That lord that leves ay-lastand lyff,
I loue the euer with hart and hande,
That me wolde rewle be reasoune ryffe,
Sex hundereth yere to lyffe in lande.
Thre semely sonnes and a worthy wiffe
I haue euer at my steven to stande;
Bot nowe my cares aren keene as knyffe,
Bycause I kenne what is commannde.
Thare comes to ilke contré,
Ya, cares bothe kene and calde.
For God has warned me
This worlde wastyd shalle be,
And certis the sothe I see,
As forme-fadres has tald.
My fadir Lamech who, likes to neven,
Heere in this worlde thus lange gon lende,
Seuene hundereth yere seuenty and seuene,
In swilke a space his tyme he spende.
He prayed to god with stabill steuene
That he to hym a sone shuld sende,
And at the laste ther come from heuen
Slyke hettyng that hym mekill amende,
And made hym grubbe and graue
As ordand faste beforne,
For he a sone shulde haue,
As he gon aftir crave;
And as God vouchydsaue
In worlde than was I borne.
When I was borne Noye named he me,
And saide thees wordes with mekill wynne:
‘Loo’, he saide, ‘this ilke is he
That shalle be comforte to mankynné.
Syrs, by this wele witte may ye,
My fadir knewe both more and mynne
By sarteyne signes he couthe wele see,
That al this worlde shuld synke for synne;
Howe God shulde vengeaunce take,
As nowe is sene sertayne,
And hende of mankynde make
That synne wold nouyot forsake;
And howe that it shuld slake,
And a worlde waxe agayne.
I wolde God itt wasted were,
Sa that I shuld nott tente thertille.
My semely sonnes and doughteres dere,
Takis yoe entent vnto my skylle.

Filius 1
Fader we are all redy heere,
Youre biddyng baynly to fulfille.

Noah
Goos calle youre modir, and comes nere,
And spede vs faste that we nouyot spille.

Filius 1
Fadir, we shal nouyot fyne
To youre biddyng be done.

Noah
Alle that leues vndir lyne
Sall, sone, soner passe to pyne.

Filius 1
Where are ye, modir myne?
Come to my fadir sone.

Uxor
What sais thou sone?

Filius 1
Moder, certeyne
My fadir thynkis to flitte full ferre.
He biddis you haste with al youre mayne
Vnto hym, that no thyng you marre.

Uxor
Ya, goode sone, hy the faste agayne
And telle hym I wol come no narre.

Filius 1
Dame, I wolde do youre biddyng fayne,
But yow bus wende, els bese it warre.

Uxor
Werre? That wolde I witte.
We bowrde al wrange, I wene.

Filius 1
Modir, I saie you yitte,
My fadir is bowne to flitte.

Uxor
Now certis, I sall nouyot sitte
Or I se what he mene.

Filius 1
Fadir, I haue done nowe as ye comaunde,
My modir comes to you this daye.

Noah
Scho is welcome, I wele warrande;
This worlde sall sone be waste awaye.

Uxor
Wher arte thou Noye?

Noah
Loo, here at hande,
Come hedir faste dame, I the praye.

Uxor
Trowes thou that I wol leue the harde lande
And tourne vp here on toure deraye?
Nay Noye, I am nouyot bowne
To fonde nowe ouer there fellis.
Doo barnes, goo we and trusse to towne.

Noah
Nay, certis, sothly than mon ye drowne.

Uxor
In faythe thou were als goode come downe
And go do somwhat ellis.

Noah
Dame, fowrty dayes are nerhand past
And gone sen it began to rayne,
On lyffe sall no man lenger laste
Bot we allane, is nought to layne.

Uxor
Now Noye, in faythe the fonnes full faste,
This fare wille I no lenger frayne;
Thou arte nere woode, I am agaste,
Farewele, I wille go home agayne.

Noah
O woman, arte thou woode?
Of my werkis thou not wotte;
All that has ban or bloode
Sall be ouere flowed with the floode.

Uxor
In faithe, the were als goode
To late me go my gatte.
We! Owte! Herrowe!

Noah
What now, what cheere?

Uxor
I will no nare for no-kynnes nede.

Noah
Helpe, my sonnes, to holde her here,
For tille hir harmes she takes no heede.

Filius 2
Beis mery modir, and mende youre chere;
This worlde beis drowned, withouten drede.

Uxor
Allas, that I this lare shuld lere.

Noah
Thou spilles vs alle, ill myght thou speede.

Filius 3
Dere modir, wonne with vs,
Ther shal no thyng you greve.

Uxor
Nay, nedlyngis home me bus,
For I haue tolis to trusse.

Noah
Woman, why dois thou thus?
To make vs more myscheue?

Uxor
Noye, thou myght haue leteyn me wete;
Erly and late thou wente theroutte,
And ay at home thou lete me sytte
To loke that nowhere were wele aboutte.

Noah
Dame, thou holde me excused of itt,
It was Goddis wille withowten doutte.

Uxor
What, wenys thou so for to go qwitte?
Nay, be my trouthe, thou getis a clowte.

Noah
I pray the dame, be stille.
Thus God wolde haue it wrought.

Uxor
Thow shulde haue witte my wille,
Yf I wolde sente thertille,
And Noye, for that same skylle,
This bargan sall be bought.
Nowe at firste I fynde and feele
Wher thou hast to the forest soght,
Thou shuld haue tolde me for oure seele
Whan we were to slyke bargane broght.

Noah
Now dame, the thar noyot drede a dele,
For till accounte it cost the noght.
A hundereth wyntyr, I watte wele,
Is wente sen I this werke had wrought.
And when I made endyng,
God gaffe me mesore fayre
Of euery ilke a thyng;
He bad that I shuld bryng
Of beestis and foules yoynge,
Of ilke a kynde a peyre.

Uxor
Nowe certis, and we shulde skape fro skathe
And so be saffyd as ye saye here,
My commodrys and my cosynes bathe,
Tham wolde I wente with vs in feere.

Noah
To wende in the watir it were wathe,
Loke in and loke withouten were.

Uxor
Allas, my lyff me is full lath,
I lyffe ouere-lange this lare to lere.

Filia 1
Dere modir, mende youre moode,
For we sall wende you with.

Uxor
My frendis that I fra yoode
Are ouere flowen with floode.

Filia 2
Nowe thanke we God al goode
That vs has grauntid grith.

Filia 3
Modir, of this werke nowe wolde ye noyot wene,
That alle shuld worthe to watres wan.

Filius 2
Fadir, what may this meruaylle mene?
Wherto made God medilerth and man?

Filia 1
So selcouthe sight was never non seene,
Sen firste that God this worlde began.

Noah
Wendes and spers youre dores bedene,
For bettyr counsell none I can.
This sorowe is sente for synne,
Therfore to God we pray
That he oure bale wolde blynne.

Filius 3
The kyng of al mankynne
Owte of this woo vs wynne,
Als thou arte lorde, that maye.

Filius 1
Ya, lorde, as thou late vs be borne
In this grete bale, som bote vs bede.

Noah
My sonnes, se yoe mydday and morne
To thes catelles takes goode heede;
Keppes tham wele with haye and corne;
And women, fanges thes foules and feede,
So that they be noyot lightly lorne
Als longe as we this liffe sall lede.

Filius 2
Fadir, we ar full fayne
Youre biddyng to fulfille.
ix monethes paste er playne
Sen we wer putte to peyne.

Filius 3
He that is most of mayne
May mende it qwen he wyll.

Noah
O barnes, itt waxes clere aboute,
That may yoe see ther wher yoe sitte.

Filius 1
I, leffe fadir, ye loke thareowte,
Yf that the water wane ought yoitt.

Noah
That sall I do withowten dowte,
Thorbe the wanyng may we witte.
A, lorde, to the I love and lowte.
The catteraks I trowe be knytte.
Beholde, my sonnes al three
The clowdes are waxen clere.

Filius 2
A, lorde of mercy free,
Ay louyd myght thou be.

Noah
I sall assaye the see,
How depe that it is here.

Uxor
Loved be that lord that giffes all grace,
That kyndly thus oure care wolde kele.

Noah
I sall caste leede and loke the space,
Howe depe the watir is ilke a dele.
Fyftene cobittis of highte itt hase
Ouere ilke a hille fully to feylle;
Butte beese wel comforte in this casse,
It is wanand, this wate I wele.
Therfore a fowle of flight
Full sone sall I forthe sende
To seke if he haue sight,
Som lande vppon to light;
Thanne may we witte full right
When oure mornyng sall mende.
Of al the fowles that men may fynde
The raven is wighte, and wyse is hee.
Thou arte full crabbed and al thy kynde,
Wende forthe thi course I comaunde the,
And werly watte, and yther the wynd
Yf thou fynde awdir lande or tree.
ix monethes here haue we bene pyned,
But when God wyll, better mon bee.

Filia 1
That lorde that lennes vs lyffe
To lere his lawes in lande,
He mayd bothe man and wyffe,
He helpe to stynte oure striffe.

Filia 3
Oure cares are kene as knyffe,
God graunte vs goode tydand.

Filius 1
Fadir, this foule is forthe full lange;
Vppon sum lande I trowe he lende,
His foode ther fore to fynde and fange-
That makis hym be a fayland frende.

Noah
Nowe sonne, and yf he so forthe gange,
Sen he for all oure welthe gon wende,
Then be he for his werkis wrange
Euermore weried withowten ende.
And sertis for to see
Whan oure sorowe sall sesse,
Anodyr foule full free
Owre messenger sall be;
Thou doufe, I comaunde the,
Owre comforte to encresse.
A faithfull fewle to sende art thow
Of alle within there wanys wyde;
Wende forthe I pray the, for owre prowe,
And sadly seke on ilke a side
Yf the floodes be falland nowe,
That thou on the erthe may belde and byde;
Bryng vs som tokenyng that we may trowe
What tydandes sall of vs betyde.

Filia 2
Goode lorde, on vs thou luke,
And sesse oure sorow seere,
Sen we al synne forsoke
And to thy lare vs toke.

Filia 3
A twelmothe bott xij weke
Have we be houerand here.

Noah
Now barnes, we may be blithe and gladde
And lowe oure lord of heuenes kyng;
My birde has done as I hym badde,
An olyue braunche I se hym brynge.
Blyste be thou fewle that neuere was fayd,
That in thy force makis no faylyng;
Mare joie in herte never are I hadde,
We mone be saued, now may we synge.
Come hedir my sonnes in hye,
Oure woo away is wente,
I se here certaynely
The hillis of Hermonye.

Filius 1
Lovyd be that lord forthy
That vs oure lyffes hase lente.

Uxor
For wrekis nowe that we may wynne
Oute of this woo that we in wore;
But Noye, wher are nowe all oure kynne
And companye we knwe before?

Noah
Dame, all ar drowned, late be thy dyne,
And sone thei boughte ther synnes sore.
Gud lewyn latte vs begynne,
So that we greue oure God no more;
He was greved in degré
And gretely moved in mynde
For synne, as men may see:
Dum dixit ‘Penitet me‘.
Full sore forthynkyng was he
That euere he made mankynde.
That makis vs nowe to tole and trusse;
But sonnes, he saide-I watte wele when-
‘Arcum ponam in nubibus‘,
He sette his bowe clerly to kenne
As a tokenyng bytwene hym and vs,
In knawlage tille all cristen men
That fro this worlde were fynyd thus,
With wattir wolde he neuere wast yt then.
Thus has God most of myght
Sette his senge full clere
Vppe in the ayre of heght;
The raynebowe it is right,
As men may se in sight
In seasons of the yere.

Filius 2
Sir, nowe sen God oure souerand syre
Has sette his syne thus in certayne,
Than may we wytte this worldis empire
Shall euermore laste, is noyot to layne.

Noah
Nay sonne, that sall we nouyot desire,
For and we do we wirke in wane;
For it sall ones be waste with fyre,
And never worthe to worlde agayne.

Uxor
A, syre, owre hertis are soore
For thes sawes that yoe saye here,
That myscheffe mon be more.

Noah
Beis noyot aferde therfore,
Ye sall noght lyffe than yore
Be many hundereth yhere.

Filius 1
Fadir, howe sall this lyffe be ledde
Sen non are in this worlde but we?

Noah
Sones, with youre wiffes yoe sall be stedde,
And multyplye youre seede sall yoe.
Youre barnes sall ilkon othir wedde
And worshippe God in gud degré;
Beestes and foules sall forthe be bredde,
And so a worlde begynne to bee.
Nowe travaylle sall yoe taste
To wynne you brede and wyne,
For alle this worlde is waste;
Thez beestes muste be vnbraste,
And wende we hense in haste,
In Goddis blissyng and myne.

Abraham
Grett God that alle this world has wrought,
And wisely wote both gud and ille,
I thanke hym thraly in my thoght
Of alle his laue he lens me tille,
That thus fro barenhede has me broghte
A hundereth wynter to fulfille,
Thou graunte me myght so that I mowght
Ordan my werkis aftir thi wille.
For in this erthely lyffe
Ar non to God more boune
Then is I and my wyffe,
For frenshippe we haue foune.
Vnto me tolde God on a tyde,
Wher I was telde vnder a tree,
He saide my seede shulde be multyplyed
Lyke to the gravell of the see,
And als the sternes wer strewed wyde,
So saide he that my seede schuld be;
And bad I shulde be circumcicyd
To fulfille the lawe-thus lernynde he me.
In worlde wherso we wonne
He sendes vs richeys ryve;
Als ferre as schynes the sonne,
He is stynter of stryve.
Abram first named was I,
And sythen he sette a sylypp ma;
And my wiffe hyght Sarae
And sythen was scho named Sara.
But Sara was vncertan thanne
That euere oure seede shulde sagates yoelde,
Because hirselfe sho was barrane
And we wer bothe gone in grete eelde.
But scho wroght as a wyse woman:
To haue a barne vs for to beelde,
Hir seruand prevely sho wan
Vnto my bede my wille to welde.
Sone aftir than befelle
When God oure dede wolde dight,
Sho broght forthe Esmaell,
A sone semely to sight.
Than aftirward when we waxed alde,
My wyffe scho felle in feere for same;
Oure God nedes tythynges tyll vs talde
Wher we wer in oure house at hame,
Tille haue a sone we shulde be balde,
And Isaak shulde be his name,
And his seede shulde springe manyfalde.
Gyff I were blythe, who wolde me blame?
And for I trowed this tythynge,
That God talde to me thanne,
The grounde and the begynnyng
Of trowthe that tyme beganne.
Nowe awe I gretely God to yeelde,
That so walde telle me his entente,
And noght gaynestandyng oure grete eelde
A semely sone he has vs sente.
Now he is wight hymselfe to welde
And fra me is all wightnes wente,
Therfore sall he be my beelde.
I lowe hym that this lane has lente,
For he may stynte oure stryve
And fende vs fro alle ill;
I love hym as my liff,
With all myn herte and will.

Angel
Abraham, Abraham.

Abraham
Loo, I am here.

Angel
Nowe bodeword vnto the I brynge:
God wille assaye thi wille and cheere,
Giffe thou wille bowe tylle his byddyng;
Isaak thi sone that is the dere,
Whom thou loues our alle thyng,
To the lande of vyssyon wende in feere
And there of hym thou make offering.
I sall the shewe full sone
The stede of sacrifice.
God wille this dede be done,
And therfore the avise.

Abraham
Lord God that lens ay-lastand light,
This is a ferly fare to feele.
Tille haue a sone semely to sight,
Isaak, that I loue full wele-
He is of eelde to reken right
Thyrty yoere and more sumdele-
And vnto dede hym buse be dight.
God has saide me so for my seele,
And biddis me wende on all wise
To the lande of vysioune,
Ther to make sacryfice
Of Isaak that is my sone.
And that is hythyn thre daies jornay
The ganeste gate that I cane goo;
And sertis, I sall noght say hym nay
If God commaunde myself to sloo.
Bot to my sone I will noght saye,
Bot take hym and my seruantis twoo,
And with our asse wende forthe our waye;
As God has saide, it sall be soo.
Isaak, sone, I vndirstande
To wildirnesse now wende will we,
Thare fore to make oure offerand,
For so has God comaunded me.

Isaac
Fadir, I am euere at youre wille,
As worthy is withowten trayne;
Goddis comaundement to fulfille
Awe all folke for to be fayne.

Abraham
Sone, thou sais me full gode skille,
Bott alle the soth is noyot to sayne.
Go we sen we sall thertille-
I praye God sand vs wele agayne.

Isaac
Childir, lede forthe oure asse
With wode that we sall bryne.
Euen as God ordand has,
To wyrke we will begynne.

Famulus 1
Att youre biddyng we wille be bowne
What way in worlde that yoe wille wende.

Famulus 2
Why, sall we trusse ought forthe a towne
In any vncouthe lande to lende?

Famulus 1
I hope tha haue in this sessoune
Fro God of heuyn sum solayce sende.

Famulus 2
To fulfille yt is goode reasoune,
And kyndely kepe that he has kende.

Famulus 1
Bott what thei mene certayne
Haue I na knowlage clere.

Famulus 2
It may noght gretely gayne
To move of swilke matere.

Abraham
No, noye you noght in no degré
So for to deme here of oure dede,
For als God comaunded so wirke will we,
Vntill his tales vs bus take hede.

Famulus 1
All thos that wille his seruandis be
Ful specially he wille thaym spede.

Isaac
Childir, with all the myght in me
I lowe that lorde of ilke a lede,
And wirshippe hym certayne
My will is euere vnto.

Famulus 2
God giffe you myght and mayne
Right here so for to doo.

Abraham
Sone, yf oure lord God almyghty
Of myselfe walde haue his offerande,
I wolde be glade for hym to dye,
For all oure heele hyngis in his hande.

Isaac
Fadir, forsuth, ryght so walde I,
Leuer than lange to leue in lande.

Abraham
A, sone, thu sais full wele, forthy
God geue the grace gratthely to stande.
Childir, bide yoe here still,
No ferther sall yoe goo,
For yoondir I se the hill
That we sall wende vntoo.

Isaac
Kepe wele oure asse and all oure gere
To tyme we come agayne you till.

Abraham
My sone, this wode behoues the bere
Till thou come high vppon yone hill.

Isaac
Fadir, that may do no dere,
Goddis comaundement to fullfyll,
For fra all wathes he will vs were
Wharso we wende to wirke his wille.

Abraham
A, sone, that was wele saide.
Lay doune that woode euen here
Tille oure auter be grathide-
And, my sone, make goode cheere.

Isaac
Fadir, I see here woode and fyre,
Bot wherof sall oure offerand be?

Abraham
Sertis son, gude God oure suffraynd syre
Sall ordayne it in goode degré.
For sone, and we do his dessyre,
Full gud rewarde tharfore gette wee.
In heuyn ther mon we haue oure hyre,
For vnto vs so hight has hee.
Therfore sone, lete vs praye
To God, bothe thou and I,
That we may make this daye
Oure offerand here dewly.
Grete God that all this worlde has wrought
And grathely gouernes goode and ill,
Thu graunte me myght so that I mowght
Thy comaundementis to fullfill.
And gyffe my flessche groche or greue oght,
Or sertis my saule assentte thertill,
To byrne all that I hydir broght
I sall noght spare yf I shulde spille.

Isaac
Lorde God of grete pousté
To wham all pepull prayes,
Graunte bothe my fadir and me
To wirke thi wille allweyes.
But fadir, nowe wolde I frayne full fayne
Wharof oure offerand shulde be grathid?

Abraham
Sertis sone, I may no lengar layne:
Thyselfe shulde bide that bittir brayde.

Isaac
Why fadir, will God that I be slayne?

Abraham
Ya, suthly sone, so has he saide.

Isaac
And I sall noght grouche theragayne,
To wirke his wille I am wele payed;
Sen it is his desire,
I sall be bayne to be
Brittynd and brent in fyre,
And therfore morne noght for me.

Abraham
Nay sone, this gatis most nedis be gone,
My lord God will I noght gaynesaye,
Nor neuer make mornys nor mone
To make offerand of the this day.

Isaac
Fadir, sen God oure lorde allane
Vowchesaffe to sende when yoe gon praye
A sone to you, whan ye had nane,
And nowe will that he wende his waye,
Therfore faynde me to fell
Tille offerand in this place;
But firste I sall you telle
My counsaille in this case.
I knaw myselfe be course of kynde,
My flessche for dede will be dredande.
I am ferde that yoe sall fynde
My force youre forward to withstande.
Therfore is beste that ye me bynde
In bandis faste, boothe fute and hande.
Nowe whillis I am in myght and mynde
So sall yoe saffely make offerrande,
For fadir, when I am boune
My myght may noght avayle.
Here sall no fawte be foune
To make youre forward faylle.
For yoe are alde and alle vnwelde,
And I am wighte and wilde of thoght.

Abraham
To bynde hym that shuld be my beelde!
Outtane Goddis will, that wolde I noght.
Bot loo, her sall no force be felde,
So sall God haue that he has soght.
Farewele my sone, I sall the yoelde
Tylle hym that all this world has wroght.
Nowe kysse me hartely I the pray.
Isaak, I take my leue for ay-
Me bus the mys.
My blissyng haue thou enterly,
And I beseke God allmyghty
He giffe the his.
Thus aren we samyn assent
Eftir thy wordis wise.
Lorde God, to this take tente,
Ressayue thy sacrifice.
This is to me a perles pyne,
To se myn nawe dere childe thus boune.
Me had wele leuer my lyf to tyne
Than see this sight thus of my sone.
It is Goddis will, it sall be myne,
Agaynste his saande sall I neuer schone,
To Goddis cummaundement I sall enclyne,
That in me fawte non be foune.
Therfore my sone so dere,
If thou will anythyng saye,
Thy dede it drawes nere,
Farewele, for anes and ay.

Isaac
Now my dere fadir, I wolde you praye,
Here me thre wordes, graunte me my bone
Sen I fro this sall passe for ay;
I see myn houre is comen full sone.
In worde, in werke, or any waye
That I haue trespassed or oght mysdone,
Forgiffe me fadir or I dye this daye,
For his luffe that made bothe sonne and mone.
Here sen we two sall twynne
Firste God I aske mercy,
And you in more and myne,
This day or euere I dy.

Abraham
Now my grete God Adonay
That all this worlde has worthely wroght,
Forgyffe the sone for his mercye,
In worde, in worke, in dede and thoght.
Nowe sone, as we ar leryd
Our tyme may noyot myscarie.

Isaac
Nowe farewele all medilerth,
My flesshe waxis faynte for ferde;
Nowe fadir, take youre swerde,
Methynke full lange yoe tarie.

Abraham
Nay, nay sone, nay, I the behete,
That do I noght, withouten were.
Thy wordis makis me my wangges to wete
And chaunges, childe, ful often my cheere.
Therfore lye downe, hande and feete,
Nowe may thou witte thyn oure is nere.

Isaac
A, dere fadir, lyff is full swete,
The drede of dede dose all my dere.
As I am here youre sone
To God I take me till,
Nowe am I laide here bone,
Do with me what yoe will.
For fadir, I aske no more respete,
Bot here a worde what I wolde mene:
I beseke yoou or that yoe smyte
Lay doune this kyrcheffe on myn eghne,
Than may yooure offerand be parfite
If yoe wille wirke thus as I wene.
And here to God my saule I wite
And all my body to brenne bydene.
Now fadir be noght myssyng,
But smyte fast as yoe may.

Abraham
Farewele, in Goddis dere blissyng
And myn, for euer and ay.
That pereles prince I praye
Myn offerand heretill haue it,
My sacryfice this day
I praye the lorde ressayue it.

Angel
Abraham, Abraham.

Abraham
Loo, here iwys.

Angel
Abraham, abide, and halde the stille.
Sla noght thy sone, do hym no mysse,
Take here a schepe thy offerrand tyll,
Is sente the fro the kyng of blisse
That faythfull ay to the is fone;
He biddis the make offerrand of this
Here at this tyme, and saffe thy sone.

Abraham
I lowe that lord with herte entier
That of his luffe this lane me lente,
To saffe my sone, my darlyng dere,
And sente this schepe to this entente,
That we sall offir it to the here-
So sall it be as thou has mente.
My sone, be gladde and make goode cheere,
God has till vs goode comforte sente.
He will noght thou be dede,
But tille his lawes take kepe;
And se son, in thy stede
God has sente vs a schepe.

Isaac
To make oure offerand at his wille
All for oure sake he has it sente.
To lowe that lorde I halde grete skyll
That tylle his menyoe thus has mente.
This dede I wolde haue tane me till
Full gladly lorde, to thyn entent.

Abraham
A, sone, thy bloode wolde he noght spill,
Forthy this shepe thus has he sente;
And sone, I am full fayne
Of oure spede in this place-
Bot go we home agayne
And lowe God of his grace.

Angel
Abraham, Abraham.

Abraham
Loo, here indede.
Harke sone, sum saluyng of our sare.

Angel
God sais thou sall haue mekill mede
For thys goode will that thou in ware.
Sen thou for hym wolde do this dede-
To spille thy sone and noght to spare-
He menes to multiplie youre seede
On sides seere, as he saide are;
And yit he hight you this,
That of youre seede sall ryse,
Thurgh helpe of hym and his,
Ouere-hande of all enmys.
Luk yoe hym loue, this is his liste,
And lelly lyff eftir his laye,
For in youre seede all mon be bliste
That ther bese borne be nyght or day.
If yoe will in hym trowe or triste
He will be with yoou euere and aye.

Abraham
Full wele wer vs and we it wiste,
Howe we shulde wirke his will alwaye.

Isaac
Fadir, that sall we frayne
At wyser men than wee,
And fulfille it ful fayne
Indede eftir oure degree.

Abraham
Nowe sone, sen we thus wele hase spede,
That God has graunted me thy liffe,
It is my wille that thou be wedde
And welde a woman to thy wyffe;
So sall thy sede springe and be spredde
In the lawez of God be reasoune ryffe.
I wate in what steede sho is stede
That thou sall wedde, withowten stryffe:
Rabek that damysell,
Hir fayrer is none fone,
The doughter of Batwell
That was my brothir sone.

Isaac
Fadir, as you likes my lyffe to spende
I sall assente vnto the same.

Abraham
One of my seruandis sone sall I sende
Vnto that birde to brynge hir hame.
The gaynest gates now will we wende.
My barnes, yee ar noght to blame
Yeff yoe thynke lang that we her lende;
Gedir same oure gere, in Goddis name,
And go we hame agayne
Euyn vnto Barsabé.
God that is most of mayne
Vs wisse and with yoou be.

Rex Pharao
O pees, I bidde that no man passe,
But kepe the cours that I comaunde,
And takes gud heede to hym that hasse
Youre liff all haly in his hande.
Kyng Pharo my fadir was,
And led the lordshippe of this lande,
I am his hayre as elde will asse,
Euere in his steede to styrre and stande.
All Egippe is myne awne
To lede aftir my lawe,
I will my myght be knawen
And honnoured as it awe.
Therfore als kyng I commaunde pees
To all the pepill of this empire,
That no man putte hym fourthe in prees
But that will do als we desire.
And of youre sawes I rede you sees,
And sesse to me, youre sufferayne sire,
That most youre comforte may encrese
And at my liste lose liffe and lyre.

Consolator 1
My lorde, yf any were
That walde not wirke youre will,
And we wist whilke thay were
Ful sone we suld thaym spill.

Rex Pharao
Thurghoute my kyngdome wolde I kenn,
And konne tham thanke that couthe me telle,
If any wer so weryd then
That wolde aught fande owre forse to fell.

Consolator 2
My lorde, thar are a maner of men
That mustirs grete maistris tham emell,
The Jewes that wonnes here in Jessen
And er named the childir of Israell.
They multyplye so faste
That suthly we suppose
Thay are like, and they laste,
Yowre lordshippe for to lose.

Rex Pharao
Why, devill, what gawdes haue they begonne?
Er thai of myght to make afrayse?

Consolator 1
Tho felons folke, sir, first was fonn
In kyng Pharo yooure fadyr dayse.
Thay come of Joseph, Jacob sonn,
That was a prince worthy to prayse,
And sithen in ryste furthe are they run,
Now ar they like to lose our layse.
Thay sall confounde vs clene
Bot if thai sonner sese.

Rex Pharao
What devill ever may it mene
That they so fast encrese?

Consolator 2
Howe they encrese full wele we kenn,
Als oure elders before vs fande,
Thay were talde but sexty and ten
Whan thei enterd into this lande.
Sithen haue they soionerd here in Jessen
Foure houndereth yoere, this we warande,
Now are they noumbered of myghty men
Wele more than thre hundereth thowsande,
Withowten wiffe and childe
And herdes that kepes ther fee.

Rex Pharao
So myght we be bygillid;
Bot certis that sall noght be,
For with qwantise we sall tham qwelle,
That thei sall no farrar sprede.

Consolator 1
Lorde, we have herde oure fadres telle
Howe clerkis, that ful wele couthe rede,
Saide a man shulde wax tham emell
That suld fordo vs and owre dede.

Rex Pharao
Fy on tham, to the devell of helle!
Swilke destanye sall we noght drede.
We sall make mydwayes to spille tham,
Whenne oure Ebrewes are borne,
All that are mankynde to kille tham,
So sall they sone by lorne.
For of the other haue I non awe.
Swilke bondage sall we to tham bede:
To dyke and delfe, beere and drawe,
And do all swilke vnhonest dede.
Thus sall the laddis beholden lawe,
Als losellis ever thaire lyff to leede.

Consolator 2
Certis lorde, this is a sotell sawe,
So sall the folke no farrar sprede.

Rex Pharao
Yaa, helpes to halde tham doune,
That we no fantyse fynde.

Consolator 1
Lorde, we sall ever be bowne
In bondage tham to bynde.

Moyses
Grete God that all this grounde began
And governes euere in gud degree,
That made me Moyses vnto man
And saued me sythen out of the see-
Kyng Pharo he comaunded than
So that no sonnes shulde saued be,
Agayns his wille away I wan-
Thus has God shewed his myght in me.
Nowe am I here to kepe,
Sett vndir Synay syde,
The bisshoppe Jetro schepe,
So bettir bute to bide.
A, mercy God, mekill is thy myght,
What man may of thy meruayles mene!
I se yoondyr a ful selcouth syght
Wherof befor no synge was seene.
A busk I se yondir brennand bright
And the leues last ay inlike grene;
If it be werke of worldly wight
I will go witte withowten wene.

God
Moyses, come noght to nere
Bot stille in that stede dwelle,
And take hede to me here,
And tente what I the telle.
I am thy lorde, withoutyn lak,
To lengh thi liffe euen as me list,
And the same God that somtyme spak
Vnto thyne elders als thei wiste;
Both Abraham and Ysaac
And Jacob, saide I, suld be bliste
And multyplyeand, tham to mak,
So that ther seede shulde noght be myste.
And nowe kyng Pharo
Fuls thare childir ful faste.
If I suffir hym soo
Thare seede shulde sone be past.
To make the message haue I mende
To hym that tham so harmed hase,
To warne hym with wordes hende
So that he lette my pepull passe,
That they to wildirnesse may wende
And wirshippe me als whilom was.
And yf he lenger gar them lende
His sange ful sone sall be ‘alas’.

Moyses
A, lord, syth, with thy leue,
That lynage loves me noght,
Gladly they walde me greve
And I slyke boodword brought.
Therfore lord, late sum othir fraste
That hase more forse tham for to feere.

God
Moyses, be noght abaste
My bidding baldely to bere.
If thai with wrang ought walde the wrayste,
Owte of all wothis I sall the were.

Moyses
We, lord, thai wil noght to me trayste
For al the othes that I may swere.
To neven slyke note of newe
To folke of wykkyd will,
Withouten taken trewe,
They will noght take tente thertill.

God
And if they will noght vndirstande
Ne take heede how I haue the sente,
Before the kyng cast downe thy wande
And it sall seme as a serpent.
Sithen take the tayle in thy hande
And hardely vppe thou itt hente,
In the firste state als thou it fande-
So sall it turne be myn entent.
Hyde thy hande in thy barme
And as a lepre it sall be like,
Sithen hale withouten harme;
Thi syngnes sall be slyke.
And if he wil not suffre than
My pepull for to passe in pees,
I sall send vengeaunce ix or x
To sewe hym sararre, or I sesse.
Bot the Jewes that wonnes in Jessen
Sall noyot be merked with that messe,
Als lange als thai my lawes will kenne
Ther comfort sal I euere encresse.

Moyses
A, lorde, lovyd be thy wille
That makes thy folke so free,
I sall tell tham vntill
Als thou telles vnto me.
But to the kyng, lorde, whan I come
And he ask me what is thy name,
And I stande stille than, defe and dum,
How sal I be withouten blame?

God
I saie thus ego sum qui sum,
I am he that I am the same,
And if thou myght not meve ne mum
I sall the saffe fro synne and shame.

Moyses
I vndirstande this thyng
With al the myght in me.

God
Be bolde in my blissyng,
Thy belde ay sall I be.

Moyses
A, lorde of lyffe, lere me my layre
That I there tales may trewly tell.
Vnto my frendis nowe will I fare,
The chosen childre of Israell,
To telle tham comforte of ther care,
And of there daunger that thei in dwell.
God mayntayne you and me euermare,
And mekill myrthe be you emell.

Puer 1
A, Moyses, maistir dere,
Oure myrthe is al mornyng,
We are harde halden here
Als carls vndir the kyng.

Puer 2
Moyses, we may mourne and myne,
Ther is no man vs myrthes mase;
And sen we come al of a kynne,
Ken vs som comforte in this case.

Moyses
Beith of youre mornyng blyne,
God wil defende you of your fays.
Oute of this woo he will you wynne
To plese hym in more plener place.
I sall carpe to the kyng
And fande to make you free.

Puer 3
God sende vs gud tythynge,
And allway with you be.

Moyses
Kyng Pharo, to me take tent.

Rex Pharao
Why, what tydyngis can thou tell?

Moyses
Fro God of heuen thus am I sente
To fecche his folke of Israell;
To wildirnesse he walde thei wente.

Rex Pharao
Yaa, wende thou to the devell of hell.
I make no force howe thou has mente,
For in my daunger sall thei dwelle.
And faytour, for thy sake,
Thei sall be putte to pyne.

Moyses
Thanne will God vengeaunce take
On the and on al thyne.

Rex Pharao
Fy on the ladde, oute of my lande!
Wenes thou with wiles to lose oure laye?
When is this warlowe with his wande
That wolde thus wynne oure folke away?

Consolator 2
It is Moyses, we wele warrand,
Agayne al Egipte is he ay.
Youre fadir grete faute in hym fande,
Nowe will he marre you if he may.

Rex Pharao
Nay, nay, that daunce is done,
That lordan leryd ouere-late.

Moyses
God biddis the graunte my bone,
And late me go my gate.

Rex Pharao
Biddis God me? Fals lurdayne, thou lyes!
What takyn talde he, toke thou tent?

Moyses
Yaa sir, he saide thou suld despise
Botht me and all his comaundement.
In thy presence kast on this wise
My wande he bad by his assent,
And that thou shulde the wele avise
Howe it shulde turne to a serpent.
And in his haly name
Here sal I ley it downe:
Loo ser, se her the same.

Rex Pharao
A! Dogg! The deuyll the drowne!

Moyses
He saide that I shulde take the tayle
So for to proue his poure playne,
And sone he saide it shuld not fayle
For to turne a wande agayne.
Loo sir, behalde.

Rex Pharao
Hopp illa hayle!
Now certis this is a sotill swayne,
But this boyes sall byde here in oure bayle,
For al thair gaudis sall noght tham gayne;
Bot warse, both morne and none,
Sall thei fare for thy sake.

Moyses
God sende sum vengeaunce sone,
And on thi werke take wrake.

Egyptian 1
Allas, allas, this lande is lorne,
On lif we may no lenger lende.

Egyptian 2
So grete myscheffe is made sen morne
Ther may no medycyne vs amende.

Consolator 1
Sir kyng, we banne that we wer borne,
Oure blisse is all with bales blende.

Rex Pharao
Why crys you swa, laddis? Liste you scorne?

Egyptian 1
Sir kyng, slyk care was neuere kende.
Oure watir that was ordand
To men and beestis fudde,
Thurghoute al Egipte lande
Is turned to rede blude.
Full vgly and ful ill is it
That was ful faire and fresshe before.

Rex Pharao
This is grete wondir for to witt
Of all the werkis that ever wore.

Egyptian 2
Nay lorde, ther is anothir yoitt
That sodenly sewes vs ful sore,
For tadys and frosshis we may not flitte,
Thare venym loses lesse and more.

Egyptian 1
Lorde, grete myses bothe morn and none
Bytis vs full bittirlye,
And we hope al by done
By Moyses, oure enemye.

Consolator 1
Lorde, whills ve with this menyhe meve
Mon never myrthe be vs emange.

Rex Pharao
Go saie we sall no lenger greve-
But thai sall neuere the tytar gang.

Egyptian 2
Moyses, my lord has grauntyd leve
At lede thy folk to likyng lande,
So that we mende of oure myscheue.

Moyses
I wate ful wele thar wordes er wrange;
That sall ful sone be sene,
For hardely I hym heete,
And he of malice mene
Mo mervaylles mon he mett.

Egyptian 1
Lorde, allas, for dule we dye,
We dar not loke oute at no dore.

Rex Pharao
What deuyll ayles yow so to crye?

Egyptian 2
We fare nowe werre than euere we fure.
Grete loppis ouere all this lande thei flye,
That with bytyng makis mekill blure.

Egyptian 1
Lorde, oure beestis lyes dede and dry
Als wele on myddyng als on more-
Both oxe, horse and asse
Fallis dede doune sodanly.

Rex Pharao
Therof no man harme has
Halfe so mekil as I.

Consolator 2
Yis lorde, poure men has mekill woo
To see ther catell be out cast.
The Jewes in Jessen faren noyot soo,
They haue al likyng in to last.

Rex Pharao
Go saie we giffe tham leue to goo
To tyme there parellis be ouer-past-
But or thay flitte over-farre vs froo
We sall garre feste tham foure so fast.

Egyptian 2
Moyses, my lord giffis leue
Thy men for to remewe.

Moyses
He mon haue more mischeff
But if his tales be trewe.

Egyptian 1
We, lorde, we may not lede this liffe.

Rex Pharao
Why, is ther greuaunce growen agayne?

Egyptian 2
Swilke poudre, lord, apon vs dryffe
That whare it bettis it makis a blayne.

Egyptian 1
Like mesellis makis it man and wyffe.
Sythen ar they hurte with hayle and rayne;
Oure wynes in mountaynes may noyot thryve,
So ar they threst and thondour-slayne.

Rex Pharao
How do thay in Jessen,
The Jewes, can yoe aught say?

Egyptian 2
This care nothyng they ken,
Thay fele no such affray.

Rex Pharao
No? Devill! And sitte they so in pees
And we ilke day in doute and drede?

Egyptian 1
My lorde, this care will euere encrese
Tille Moyses have leve tham to lede.

Consolator 1
Lorde, war thay wente than walde it sese,
So shuld we save vs and oure seede,
Ellis be we lorne-this is no lese.

Rex Pharao
Late hym do fourth, the devill hym spede!
For his folke sall no ferre
Yf he go welland woode.

Consolator 2
Than will itt sone be warre,
Yit war bettir thai yooode.

Egyptian 2
We, lorde, new harme is comon to hande.

Rex Pharao
No! Devill! Will itt no bettir be?

Egyptian 1
Wilde wormes is laide ouere al this lande,
Thai leve no frute ne floure on tree;
Agayne that storme may nothyng stande.

Egyptian 2
Lord, ther is more myscheff thynke me,
And thre daies hase itt bene durand,
So myrke that non myght othir see.

Egyptian 1
My lorde, grete pestelence
Is like ful lange to last.

Rex Pharao
Owe, come that in oure presence?
Than is oure pride al past.

Egyptian 2
My lorde, this vengeaunce lastis lange,
And mon till Moyses haue his bone.

Consolator 1
Lorde, late tham wende, els wirke we wrang,
It may not helpe to hover na hone.

Rex Pharao
Go saie we graunte tham leue to gange
In the devill way, sen itt bus be done-
For so may fall we sall tham fang
And marre tham or tomorne at none.

Egyptian 1
Moyses, my lorde has saide
Thou sall haue passage playne.

Moyses
And to passe am I paied.
My frendes, bees nowe fayne,
For at oure will now sall we wende,
In lande of lykyng for to lende.

Puer 1
Kyng Pharo, that felowns fende,
Will haue grete care fro this be kende,
Than will he schappe hym vs to shende
And sone his ooste aftir vs sende.

Moyses
Beis noght aferde, God is youre frende,
Fro alle oure fooes he will vs fende.
Tharfore comes furthe with me,
Haves done and drede yow noght.

Puer 2
My lorde, loved mott thou bee,
That us fro bale has brought.

Puer 3
Swilke frenshippe never before we fande,
But in this faire defautys may fall.
The Rede See is ryght nere at hande,
Ther bus vs bide to we be thrall.

Moyses
I sall make vs way with my wande,
For God hase sayde he saue vs sall;
On aythir syde the see sall stande,
Tille we be wente, right as a wall.
Therfore have yoe no drede,
But faynde ay God to plese.

Puer 1
That lorde to lande vs lede,
Now wende we all at esse.

Egyptian 1
Kyng Pharro, ther folke er gane.

Rex Pharao
Howe nowe, es ther any noyes of newe?

Egyptian 2
The Ebrowes er wente ilkone.

Rex Pharao
How sais thou that?

Egyptian 1
Ther talis er trewe.

Rex Pharao
Horse harneys tyte, that thei be tane,
This ryott radly sall tham rewe.
We sall not sese or they be slone,
For to the se we sall tham sew.
Do charge oure charyottis swithe
And frekly folowes me.

Egyptian 2
My lorde we are full blithe
At youre biddyng to be.

Consolator 2
Lorde, to youre biddyng we er boune
Owre bodies baldely for to bede,
We sall noght byde, but dyng tham doune
Tylle all be dede, withouten drede.

Rex Pharao
Hefe vppe youre hartis ay to Mahownde,
He will be nere vs in oure nede.
Owte! Ay herrowe! Devill, I drowne!

Egyptian 1
Allas, we dye for alle our dede.

Puer 1
Nowe ar we wonne fra waa
And saued oute of the see,
Cantemus domino,
To God a sange synge wee.

Doctor
Lord God, grete meruell es to mene
Howe man was made withouten mysse,
And sette whare he sulde euer haue bene
Withouten bale, bidand in blisse;
And howe he lost that comforth clene
And was putte oute fro paradys,
And sithen what sorouse sor warr sene
Sente vnto hym and to al his;
And howe they lay lange space
In helle, lokyn fro lyght,
Tille God graunted tham grace
Of helpe, als he hadde hyght.
Than is it nedfull for to neven
How prophettis all Goddis counsailes kende,
Als prophet Amos in his steuen
Lered whils he in his liffe gun lende:
Deus pater disposuit salutem fieri in medio terre, etc.
He sais thus: God the fadir in heuen
Ordand in erthe mankynde to mende;
And to grayth it with Godhede euen,
His sone he saide that he suld sende
To take kynde of mankyn,
In a mayden full mylde;
So was many saued of syn
And the foule fende begyled.
And for the feende sulde so be fedd
Be tyne, and to no treuth take tentt,
God made that mayden to be wedde
Or he his sone vnto hir sentte.
So was the Godhede closed and cledde
In wede of weddyng whare thy wente;
And that oure blisse sulde so be bredde
Ful many materes may be mente:
Quoniam in semine tuo benedicentur omnes gentes, etc.
God hymself sayde this thynge
To Abraham als hym liste:
Of thy sede sall vppe sprynge
Wharein folke sall be bliste.
To proue thes prophettes ordande er,
Als Isay, vnto olde and yenge,
He moued oure myscheues for to merr,
For thus he prayed God for this thynge:
Rorate, celi, desuper-
Lord, late thou doune at thy likyng
The dewe to fall fro heuen so ferre,
For than the erthe sall sprede and sprynge
A seede that vs sall saue,
That nowe in blisse are bente.
Of clerkis whoso will craue
Thus may ther gatis be mente:
The dewe to the gode haly gaste
May be remened in mannes mynde,
The erthe vnto the mayden chaste,
Bycause sho comes of erthely kynde.
Thir wise wordis ware noght wroght in waste,
To waffe and wende away als wynde,
For this same prophett sone in haste
Saide forthermore, als folkes may fynde:
Propter hoc dabit dominus ipse vobis signum, etc.
Loo, he sais thus: God sall gyffe
Hereof a syngne to see
Tille all that lely lyffe,
And this thare sygne sal be,
Ecce uirgo concipiett, et pariet filium, etc.
Loo, he sais a mayden mon
Here on this molde mankynde omell,
Full clere consayue and bere a sonne,
And neven his name Emanuell.
His kyngdom that euere is begonne
Sall never sese, but dure and dwell;
On Dauid sege thore sall he wonne,
His domes to deme and trueth to telle.
Zelus domini faciet hoc, etc.
He says, luffe of oure lorde
All this sall ordan thanne;
That mennes pees and accorde
To make with erthely manne.
More of this maiden meves me;
This prophett sais for oure socoure
Egredietur virga de Jesse-
A wande sall brede of Jesse boure,
And of this same also sais hee:
Vpponne that wande sall springe a floure
Wheron the haly gast sall be,
To governe it with grete honnoure.
That wande meynes vntill vs
This mayden, even and morne,
And the floure is Jesus,
That of that blyst bees borne.
The prophet Johell, a gentill Jewe,
Somtyme has saide of the same thyng,
He likenes Criste euen als he knewe
Like to the dewe in doune-commyng:
Ero quasi ros; et virgo Israell germinabit sicut lilium.
The maiden of Israell al newe,
He sais, sall bere one and forthe brynge
Als the lelly floure, full faire of hewe.
This meynes sa to olde and yoenge,
That the hegh haly gaste
Come oure myscheffe to mende
In Marie, mayden chaste,
When God his sone walde sende.
This lady is to the lilly lyke-
That is bycause of hir clene liffe,
For in this worlde was never slyke
One to be mayden, modir, and wyffe.
And hir sonne, kyng in heuen-ryke,
Als oft es red be reasoune ryfe,
And hir husband, bath maistir and meke,
In charité to stynte all striffe-
This passed all worldly witte,
How God had ordand thaim thanne
In hir one to be knytte,
Godhed, maydenhed, and manne.
Bot of this werke grete witnes was
With forme-faders, all folke may tell.
Whan Jacob blyst his sone Judas
He tolde the tale thaim two emell:
Non auferetur septrum de Juda,
donec ueniat qui mittendus est.
He sais the septer sall noght passe
Fra Juda lande of Israell,
Or he comme that God ordand has
To be sente feendis force to fell.
Et ipse erit expectacio gencium.
Hym sall alle folke abyde,
And stande vnto his steuen.
Ther sawes wer signified
To Crist, Goddis sone in heuen.
For howe he was sente, se we more,
And howe God wolde his place puruay;
He saide, sonne, I sall sende byfore
Myne aungell to rede the thy way-
Ecce mitto aungelum meum ante faciem tuam,
qui preparabit viam tuam ante te.
Of John Baptist he menyd thore,
For in erthe he was ordand ay
To warne the folke that wilsom wore
Of Cristis comyng, and thus gon say:
Ego quidem baptizo in aqua vos, autem
baptizabimini spiritu sancto.
Eftir me sall come nowe
A man of myghtis mast,
And sall baptis yoowe
In the high haly gast.
Thus of Cristis commyng may we see
How sainte Luke spekis in his gospell:
Fro God in heuen es sent, sais he,
An aungell is named Gabriell,
To Nazareth in Galalé,
Where than a mayden mylde gon dwell,
That with Joseph suld wedded be;
Hir name is Marie-thus gan he telle.
How God his grace than grayd
To man in this manere,
And how the aungell saide,
Takes hede, all that will here.

Angel
Hayle Marie, full of grace and blysse,
Oure lord God is with the
And has chosen the for his,
Of all women blist mot thou be.

Mary
What maner of halsyng is this
Thus preuely comes to me?
For in myn herte a thoght it is,
The tokenyng that I here see.

Angel
Ne drede the noght thou mylde Marie,
For nothyng that may befalle,
For thou has fun soueranly
At God a grace ouer othir all.
In chastité of thy bodye
Consayue and bere a childe thou sall;
This bodword brynge I the, forthy
His name Jesu sall thou calle.
Mekill of myght than sall he bee,
He sall be God and called God sonn.
Dauid sege, his fadir free,
Sall God hym giffe to sytte vppon;
Als kyng for euer regne sall hee,
In Jacob house ay for to wonne,
Of his kyngdome and dignité
Shall noo man erthly knaw ne con.

Mary
Thou Goddis aungell meke and mylde,
Howe sulde it be, I the praye,
That I sulde consayve a childe
Of any man by nyght or daye?
I knawe no man that shulde haue fyled
My maydenhode, the sothe to saye;
Withouten will of werkis wilde
In chastité I haue ben ay.

Angel
The haly gast in the sall lighte,
Hegh vertue sall to the holde,
The holy birthe of the so bright
God sonne he sall be calde.
Loo, Elyzabeth thi cosyne ne myght
In elde consayue a childe for alde;
This is the sexte moneth full ryght,
To hir that baran has ben talde.

Mary
Thou aungell, blissid messanger,
Of Goddis will I holde me payde;
I love my lorde with herte clere,
The grace that he has for me layde.
Goddis handmayden, lo me here
To his wille all redy grayd;
Be done to me of all manere
Thurgh thy worde als thou hast saide.
Now God that all oure hope is in,
Thur the myght of the haly gaste,
Saue the, dame, fro sak of synne,
And wisse the fro all werkis wast.
Elyzabeth myn awne cosyne,
Methoght I coveyte alway mast
To speke with the of all my kynne,
Therfore I comme thus in this hast.

Elizabeth
A, welcome mylde Marie,
Myne aughen cosyne so dere,
Joifull woman am I
That I nowe see the here.
Blissed be thou anely
Of all women in feere,
And the frute of thy body
Be blissid ferre and nere.
This is joyfull tydyng
That I may nowe here see,
The modyr of my lord kyng
Thus-gate come to me.
Sone als the voyce of thine haylsing
Moght myn neres entreand be,
The childe in my wombe so yenge
Makes grete myrthe vnto the.

Mary
Nowe lorde, blist be thou ay
For the grace thou has me lente;
Lorde, I lofe the, God verray,
The sande thou hast me sente.
I thanke the nyght and day,
And prayes with goode entente
Thou make me to thy paye,
To the my wille is wentte.

Elizabeth
Blissid be thou grathely grayed
To God thurgh chastité,
Thou trowed and helde the payed
Atte his wille for to bee.
All that to the is saide
Fro my lorde so free,
Swilke grace is for the layde
Sall be fulfilled in the.

Mary
To his grace I will me ta,
With chastité to dele,
That made me thus to ga
Omange his maidens feele.
My saule sall louying ma
Vnto that lorde so lele,
And my gast make ioye alswa
In God that es my hele.

Joseph
Of grete mornyng may I me mene
And walke full werily be this way,
For nowe than wende I best hafe bene
Att ease and reste by reasoune ay.
For I am of grete elde,
Wayke and al vnwelde,
Als ilke man se it maye;
I may nowder buske ne belde
But owther in frithe or felde;
For shame what sall I saie,
That thus-gates nowe on myne alde dase
Has wedded a yonge wenche to my wiff,
And may noyot wele tryne over two strase?
Nowe lorde, how lange sall I lede this liff?
My banes er heuy als lede
And may noyot stande in stede,
Als kende it is full ryfe.
Now lorde, thou me wisse and rede
Or sone me dryue to dede,
Thou may best stynte this striffe.
For bittirly than may I banne
The way I in the temple wente,
Itt was to me a bad barganne,
For reuthe I may it ay repente.
For tharein was ordande
Vnwedded men sulde stande,
Al sembled at asent,
And ilke ane a drye wande
On heght helde in his hand,
And I ne wist what it ment.
In-mange al othir ane bare I;
Itt florisshed faire, and floures on sprede,
And thay saide to me forthy
That with a wiffe I sulde be wedde.
The bargayne I made thare,
That rewes me nowe full sare,
So am I straytely sted.
Now castes itt me in care,
For wele I myght eueremare
Anlepy life haue led.
Hir werkis me wyrkis my wonges to wete;
I am begiled-how, wate I noyot.
My yoonge wiffe is with childe full grete,
That makes me nowe sorowe vnsoght.
That reproffe nere has slayne me,
Forthy giff any man frayne me
How this thing miyot be wroght,
To gabbe yf I wolde payne me,
The lawe standis harde agayne me:
To dede I mon be broght.
And lathe methinketh, on the todir syde,
My wiff with any man to defame,
And whethir of there twa that I bide
I mon noyot scape withouten schame.
The childe certis is noght myne;
That reproffe dose me pyne
And gars me fle fra hame.
My liff gif I shuld tyne,
Sho is a clene virgine
For me, withouten blame.
But wele I wate thurgh prophicie
A maiden clene suld bere a childe,
But it is nought sho, sekirly,
Forthy I wate I am begiled.
And why ne walde som yonge man ta her?
For certis I thynke ouer-ga hir
Into som wodes wilde,
Thus thynke I to stele fra hir.
God childe ther wilde bestes sla hir,
She is so meke and mylde.
Of my wendyng wil I none warne,
Neuere the lees it is myne entente
To aske hir who gate hir that barne,
Yitt wolde I witte fayne or I wente.
All hayle, God be hereinne.

Puella 1
Welcome, by Goddis dere myght.

Joseph
Whare is that yoonge virgine
Marie, my berde so bright?

Puella 1
Certis Joseph, yoe sall vndirstande
That sho is not full farre you fra,
Sho sittis at hir boke full faste prayand
For yoou and vs, and for all tha
That oght has nede.
But for to telle hir will I ga
Of youre comyng, withouten drede.
Haue done and rise vppe, dame,
And to me take gud hede-
Joseph, he is comen hame.

Mary
Welcome, als God me spede.
Dredles to me he is full dere;
Joseph my spouse, welcome er yhe.

Joseph
Gramercy Marie, saie what chere,
Telle me the soth, how est with the?
Wha has ben there?
Thy wombe is waxen grete, thynke me,
Thou arte with barne, allas for care.
A, maidens, wa worthe yoou,
That lete hir lere swilke lare.

Puella 2
Joseph, yoe sall noyot trowe
In hir no febill fare.

Joseph
Trowe it noght arme? Lefe wenche, do way!
Hir sidis shewes she is with childe.
Whose ist Marie?

Mary
Sir, Goddis and youres.

Joseph
Nay, nay,
Now wate I wele I am begiled,
And reasoune why?
With me flesshely was thou neuere fylid,
And I forsake it here forthy.
Say maidens, how es this?
Tels me the sothe, rede I;
And but yoe do, iwisse,
The bargayne sall yoe aby.

Puella 2
If yoe threte als faste as yhe can
Thare is noght to saie theretill,
For trulye her come neuer no man
To waite the body with non ill
Of this swete wight,
For we haue dwelt ay with hir still
And was neuere fro hir day nor nyght.
Hir kepars haue we bene
And sho ay in oure sight,
Come here no man bytwene
To touche that berde so bright.

Puella 1
Na, here come no man in there wanes
And that euere witnesse will we,
Saue an aungell ilke a day anes
With bodily foode hir fedde has he,
Othir come nane.
Wharfore we ne wate how it shulde be
But thurgh the haly gaste allane.
For trewly we trowe this,
Is grace with hir is gane,
For sho wroght neuere no mys,
We witnesse euere ilkane.

Joseph
Thanne se I wele youre menyng is
The aungell has made hir with childe.
Nay, som man in aungellis liknesse
With somkyn gawde has hir begiled,
And that trow I.
Forthy nedes noght swilke wordis wilde
At carpe to me dissayuandly.
We, why gab ye me swa
And feynes swilk fantassy?
Allas, me is full wa,
For dule why ne myght I dy.
To me this is a carefull cas;
Rekkeles I raffe, refte is my rede.
I dare loke no man in the face,
Derfely for dole why ne were I dede;
Me lathis my liff.
In temple and in othir stede
Ilke man till hethyng will me dryff.
Was neuer wight sa wa,
For ruthe I all to-ryff;
Allas, why wroght thou swa
Marie, my weddid wiffe?

Mary
To my witnesse grete God I call,
That in mynde wroght neuere na mysse.

Joseph
Whose is the childe thou arte withall?

Mary
Youres sir, and the kyngis of blisse.

Joseph
Ye, and hoo than?
Na, selcouthe tythandis than is this,
Excuse tham wele there women can.
But Marie, all that sese the
May witte thi werkis ere wan,
Thy wombe allway it wreyes the
That thou has mette with man.
Whose is it, als faire mot the befall?

Mary
Sir, it is youres and Goddis will.

Joseph
Nay, I ne haue noght ado withall-
Neme it na more to me, be still!
Thou wate als wele as I,
That we two same flesshly
Wroght neuer swilk werkis with ill.
Loke thou dide no folye
Before me preuely
Thy faire maydenhede to spill.
But who is the fader? Telle me his name.

Mary
None but youreselfe.

Joseph
Late be, for shame.
I did it neuere; thou dotist dame, by bukes and belles!
Full sakles shulde I bere this blame aftir thou telles,
For I wroght neuere in worde nor dede
Thyng that shulde marre thy maydenhede,
To touche me till.
For of slyk note war litill nede,
Yhitt for myn awne I wolde it fede,
Might all be still;
Tharfore the fadir tell me, Marie.

Mary
But God and yhow, I knawe right nane.

Joseph
A, slike sawes mase me full sarye,
With grete mornyng to make my mane.
Therefore be noyot so balde,
That no slike tales be talde,
But halde the stille als stane.
Thou art yonge and I am alde,
Slike werkis yf I do walde,
Thase games fra me are gane.
Therfore, telle me in priuité,
Whos is the childe thou is with nowe?
Sertis, ther sall non witte but we,
I drede the law als wele as thou.

Mary
Nowe grete God of his myght
That all may dresse and dight,
Mekely to the I bowe.
Rewe on this wery wight,
That in his herte myght light
The soth to ken and trowe.

Joseph
Who had thy maydenhede Marie? Has thou oght mynde?

Mary
Forsuth, I am a mayden clene.

Joseph
Nay, thou spekis now agayne kynde,
Slike thing myght neuere na man of mene.
A maiden to be with childe?
Thase werkis fra the ar wilde,
Sho is not borne I wene.

Mary
Joseph, yhe ar begiled,
With synne was I neuer filid,
Goddis sande is on me sene.

Joseph
Goddis sande? Yha Marie, God helpe!
Bot certis that childe was neuere oures twa.
But woman-kynde gif tham list yhelpe,
Yhitt walde thei na man wiste ther wa.

Mary
Sertis it is Goddis sande
[…     …]
That sall I neuer ga fra.

Joseph
Yha, Marie, drawe thyn hande,
For forther yoitt will I fande,
I trowe not it be swa.
The soth fra me gif that thou layne,
The childe-bering may thou noyot hyde;
But sitte stille here tille I come agayne,
Me bus an erand here beside.

Mary
Now grete God he you wisse,
And mende you of your mysse
Of me, what so betyde.
Als he is kyng of blisse,
Sende yhou som seand of this,
In truth that ye might bide.

Joseph
Nowe lord God that al thing may
At thyne awne will bothe do and dresse,
Wisse me now som redy way
To walke here in this wildirnesse.
Bot or I passe this hill,
Do with me what God will,
Owther more or lesse,
Here bus me bide full stille
Till I haue slepid my fille,
Myn hert so heuy it is.

Angel
Waken, Joseph, and take bettir kepe
To Marie, that is thi felawe fest.

Joseph
A, I am full werie, lefe, late me slepe,
Forwandered and walked in this forest.

Angel
Rise vppe, and slepe na mare,
Thou makist her herte full sare
That loues the alther best.

Joseph
We, now es this a farly fare
For to be cached bathe here and thare,
And nowhere may haue rest.
Say, what arte thou? Telle me this thyng.

Angel
I, Gabriell, Goddis aungell full euen
That has tane Marie to my kepyng,
And sente es the to say with steuen
In lele wedlak thou lede the.
Leffe hir noyot, I forbid the,
Na syn of hir thou neuen,
But tille hir fast thou spede the
And of hir noght thou drede the,
It is Goddis sande of heuen.
The childe that sall be borne of her,
Itt is consayued of the haly gast.
Alle joie and blisse than sall be aftir,
And to al mankynde nowe althir mast.
Jesus his name thou calle,
For slike happe sall hym fall
Als thou sall se in haste.
His pepull saffe he sall
Of euyllis and angris all,
That thei ar nowe enbraste.

Joseph
And is this soth, aungell, thou saise?

Angel
Yha, and this to taken right:
Wende forthe to Marie thy wiffe alwayse,
Brynge hir to Bedlem this ilke nyght.
Ther sall a childe borne be,
Goddis sone of heuen is hee
And man ay mast of myght.

Joseph
Now lorde God full wele is me
That euyr that I this sight suld see,
I was neuer ar so light.
For for I walde haue hir thus refused,
And sakles blame that ay was clere,
Me bus pray hir halde me excused,
Als som men dose with full gud chere.
Saie Marie, wiffe, how fares thou?

Mary
The bettir sir, for yhou.
Why stande yhe thare? Come nere.

Joseph
My bakke fayne wolde I bowe
And aske forgifnesse nowe,
Wiste I thou wolde me here.

Mary
Forgiffnesse sir? Late be, for shame,
Slike wordis suld all gud women lakke.

Joseph
Yha, Marie, I am to blame
For wordis lang-are I to the spak.
But gadir same nowe all oure gere,
Slike poure wede as we were,
And prike tham in a pak.
Till Bedlem bus me it bere,
For litill thyng will women dere;
Helpe vp nowe on my bak.

Joseph
All-weldand God in trinité,
I praye the lord, for thy grete myght,
Vnto thy symple seruand see,
Here in this place wher we are pight,
Oureself allone.
Lord, graunte vs gode herberow this nyght
Within this wone.
For we haue sought bothe vppe and doune
Thurgh diuerse stretis in this cité.
So mekill pepull is comen to towne
That we can nowhare herbered be,
There is slike prees;
Forsuthe I can no socoure see,
But belde vs with there bestes.
And yf we here all nyght abide
We schall be stormed in this steede,
The walles are doune on ilke a side,
The ruffe is rayued aboven oure hede,
Als haue I roo;
Say Marie, doughtir, what is thy rede,
How sall we doo?
For in grete nede nowe are we stedde
As thou thyselffe the soth may see,
For here is nowthir cloth ne bedde,
And we are weyke and all werie
And fayne wolde rest.
Now gracious God, for thy mercie,
Wisse vs the best.

Mary
God will vs wisse, full wele witt yoe,
Therfore Joseph be of gud chere,
For in this place borne will he be
That sall vs saue fro sorowes sere,
Bothe even and morne.
Sir, witte yoe wele the tyme is nere
He will be borne.

Joseph
Than behoves vs bide here stille,
Here in this same place all this nyght.

Mary
Ya sir, forsuth it is Goddis will.

Joseph
Than wolde I fayne we had sum light,
What so befall.
It waxis right myrke vnto my sight,
And colde withall.
I will go gete vs light forthy,
And fewell fande with me to bryng.

Mary
All-weldand God yow gouerne and gy,
As he is sufferayne of all thyng
For his grete myght,
And lende me grace to his louyng
That I me dight.
Nowe in my sawle grete joie haue I,
I am all cladde in comforte clere,
Now will be borne of my body
Both God and man togedir in feere,
Blist mott he be.
Jesu my sone that is so dere,
Nowe borne is he.
Hayle my lord God, hayle prince of pees,
Hayle my fadir, and hayle my sone;
Hayle souereyne sege all synnes to sesse,
Hayle God and man in erth to wonne.
Hayle, thurgh whos myht
All this worlde was first begonne,
Merknes and light.
Sone, as I am sympill sugett of thyne,
Vowchesaffe, swete sone I pray the,
That I myght the take in the armys of myne
And in this poure wede to arraie the.
Graunte me thi blisse,
As I am thy modir chosen to be
In sothfastnesse.

Joseph
A, lorde God what the wedir is colde,
The fellest freese that euere I felyd.
I pray God helpe tham that is alde
And namely tham that is vnwelde,
So may I saie.
Now gud God thou be my bilde
As thou best may.
A, lord God, what light is this
That comes shynyng thus sodenly?
I can not saie als haue I blisse.
When I come home vnto Marie
Than sall I spirre.
A, here be God, for nowe come I.

Mary
Ye ar welcum sirre.

Joseph
Say Marie, doghtir, what chere with the?

Mary
Right goode Joseph, as has ben ay.

Joseph
O Marie, what swete thyng is that on thy kne?

Mary
It is my sone, the soth to saye,
That is so gud.

Joseph
Wele is me I bade this day
To se this foode.
Me merueles mekill of this light
That thus-gates shynes in this place,
Forsuth it is a selcouth sight.

Mary
This hase he ordand of his grace,
My sone so yoing,
A starne to be schynyng a space
At his bering.
For Balam tolde ful longe beforne
How that a sterne shulde rise full hye,
And of a maiden shulde be borne
A sonne that sall oure saffyng be
Fro caris kene.
Forsuth it is my sone so free
Be whame Balam gon meene.

Joseph
Nowe welcome, floure fairest of hewe,
I shall the menske with mayne and myght.
Hayle my maker, hayle Crist Jesu,
Hayle riall kyng, roote of all right,
Hayle saueour.
Hayle my lorde, lemer of light,
Hayle blessid floure.

Mary
Nowe lord that all this worlde schall wynne,
To the my sone is that I saye,
Here is no bedde to laye the inne,
Therfore my dere sone I the praye,
Sen it is soo,
Here in this cribbe I myght the lay
Betwene ther bestis two.
And I sall happe the, myn owne dere childe,
With such clothes as we haue here.

Joseph
O Marie, beholde thes beestis mylde,
They make louyng in ther manere
As thei wer men.
Forsothe it semes wele be ther chere
Thare lord thei ken.

Mary
Ther lorde thai kenne, that wate I wele,
They worshippe hym with myght and mayne;
The wedir is colde as ye may feele,
To halde hym warme thei are full fayne
With thare warme breth,
And oondis on hym, is noght to layne,
To warme hym with.
O, nowe slepis my sone, blist mot he be,
And lyes full warme ther bestis bytwene.

Joseph
O, nowe is fulfillid, forsuth I see,
That Abacuc in mynde gon mene
And prechid by prophicie.
He saide oure sauyoure shall be sene
Betwene bestis lye,
And nowe I see the same in sight.

Mary
Ya sir, forsuth the same is he.

Joseph
Honnoure and worshippe both day and nyght,
Ay-lastand lorde, be done to the
Allway, as is worthy;
And lord, to thy seruice I oblissh me
With all myn herte, holy.

Mary
Thou mercyfull maker, most myghty,
My God, my lorde, my sone so free,
Thy handemayden forsoth am I,
And to thi seruice I oblissh me,
With all myn herte entere.
Thy blissing, beseke I thee,
Thou graunte vs all in feere.

Pastor 1
Bredir, in haste takis heede and here
What I wille speke and specifie;
Sen we walke thus, withouten were,
What mengis my moode nowe meve yt will I.
Oure forme-fadres faythfull in fere,
Bothe Osye and Isaye,
Preued that a prins withouten pere
Shulde descende doune in a lady,
And to make mankynde clerly,
To leche tham that are lorne.
And in Bedlem hereby
Sall that same barne by borne.

Pastor 2
Or he be borne in burgh hereby,
Balaham, brothir, me haue herde say,
A sterne shulde schyne and signifie
With lightfull lemes like any day.
And als the texte it tellis clerly
By witty lerned men of oure lay,
With his blissid bloode he shulde vs by,
He shulde take here al of a maye.
I herde my syre saye,
When he of hir was borne,
She shulde be als clene maye
As euer she was byforne.

Pastor 3
A, mercifull maker, mekill is thy myght,
That thus will to thi seruauntes see,
Might we ones loke vppon that light
Gladder bretheren myght no men be.
I haue herde say, by that same light
The childre of Israell shulde be made free,
The force of the feende to felle in fighte,
And all his pouer excluded shulde be.
Wherfore, brether, I rede that wee
Flitte faste ouere thees felles,
To frayste to fynde oure fee,
And talke of sumwhat ellis.

Pastor 1
We, Hudde!

Pastor 2
We, howe?

Pastor 1
Herkyn to me.

Pastor 2
We, man, thou maddes all out of myght.

Pastor 1
We, Colle!

Pastor 3
What care is comen to the?

Pastor 1
Steppe furth and stande by me right,
And telle me than
Yf thou sawe euere swilke a sight.

Pastor 3
I? Nay, certis, nor neuere no man.

Pastor 2
Say felowes, what, fynde yhe any feest,
Me falles for to haue parte, pardé!

Pastor 1
Whe, Hudde, behalde into the heste,
A selcouthe sight than sall thou see
Vppon the skye.

Pastor 2
We, telle me men, emang vs thre,
Whatt garres yow stare thus sturdely?

Pastor 3
Als lange as we haue herde-men bene
And kepid this catell in this cloghe,
So selcouth a sight was neuere non sene.

Pastor 1
We, no Colle. Nowe comes it newe inowe,
That mon we fynde
[…     …]

Pastor 3
Itt menes some meruayle vs emang,
Full hardely I you behete.

Pastor 1
What it shulde mene that wate not yoee,
For all that yoe can gape and gone.
I can synge itt alls wele as hee,
And on asaie itt sall be sone
Proued or we passe.
Yf yoe will helpe, late see, halde on,
For thus it was:

Pastor 2
Ha! Ha! this was a mery note,
Be the dede that I sall dye,
I haue so crakid in my throte
That my lippis are nere drye.

Pastor 3
I trowe thou royse,
For what it was fayne witte walde I
That tille vs made this noble noyse.

Pastor 1
An aungell brought vs tythandes newe
A babe in Bedlem shulde be borne,
Of whom than spake oure prophicie trewe-
And bad us mete hym thare this morne-
That mylde of mode.
I walde giffe hym bothe hatte and horne
And I myght fynde that frely foode.

Pastor 3
Hym for to fynde has we no drede,
I sall you telle achesoune why:
Yone sterne to that lorde sall vs lede.

Pastor 2
Ya, thou sais soth. Go we forthy
Hym to honnour,
And make myrthe and melody,
With sange to seke oure savyour.

Pastor 1
Breder, bees all blythe and glad,
Here is the burgh ther we shulde be.

Pastor 2
In that same steede now are we stadde,
Tharefore I will go seke and see.
Slike happe of heele neuere herde-men hadde;
Loo, here is the house, and here is hee.

Pastor 3
Ya forsothe, this is the same,
Loo whare that lorde is layde
Betwyxe two bestis tame,
Right als the aungell saide.

Pastor 1
The aungell saide that he shulde saue
This worlde and all that wonnes therin,
Therfore yf I shulde oght aftir crave
To wirshippe hym I will begynne:
Sen I am but a symple knave,
Thof all I come of curtayse kynne,
Loo here slyke harnays as I haue-
A baren-broche by a belle of tynne
At youre bosom to be;
And whenne yoe shall welde all
Gud sonne, forgete noyot me
Yf any fordele falle.

Pastor 2
Thou sonne that shall saue bothe see and sande,
Se to me sen I haue the soght;
I am ovir poure to make presande
Als myn harte wolde, and I had ought.
Two cobill notis vppon a bande,
Loo, litill babe, what I haue broght,
And whan yoe sall be lorde in lande
Dose goode agayne, forgete me noght,
For I haue herde declared
Of connyng clerkis and clene,
That bountith askis rewarde;
Nowe watte yoe what I mene.

Pastor 3
Nowe loke on me, my lorde dere,
Thof all I putte me noght in pres,
Ye are a prince withouten pere,
I haue no presentte that you may plees.
But lo, an horne spone that haue I here-
And it will herbar fourty pese-
This will I giffe you with gud chere,
Slike novelté may noght disease.
Farewele thou swete swayne,
God graunte vs levyng lange,
And go we hame agayne
And make mirthe as we gange.

Herod
The clowdes clapped in clerenes that ther clematis inclosis-
Jubiter and Jouis, Martis and Mercurij emyde-
Raykand ouere my rialté on rawe me reioyses,
Blonderande ther blastis to blaw when I bidde.
Saturne my subgett, that sotilly is hidde,
Listes at my likyng and laies hym full lowe.
The rakke of the rede skye full rappely I ridde,
Thondres full thrallye by thousandes I thrawe
When me likis.
Venus his voice to me awe,
That princes to play in hym pikis.
The prince of planetis that proudely is pight
Sall brace furth his bemes that oure belde blithes,
The mone at my myght he mosteres his myght,
And kayssaris in castellis grete kyndynes me kythes.
Lordis and ladis, loo, luffely me lithes,
For I am fairer of face and fressher on folde-
The soth yf I saie sall-seuene and sexti sithis
Than glorius gulles that gayer is than golde
In price.
How thynke yoe ther tales that I talde?
I am worthy, witty, and wyse.

Miles 1
All kynges to youre croune may clerly comende
Youre lawe and youre lordshippe as lodsterne on hight;
What traytoure vntrewe that will not attende,
Ye sall lay thaim full lowe, fro leeme and fro light.

Miles 2
What faitoure, in faithe, that dose yoou offende,
We sall sette hym full sore, that sotte, in youre sight.

Herod
In welthe sall I wisse yoou to wonne or I wende,
For yoe are wightis ful worthy, both witty and wighte.
But yoe knawe wele, ser knyghtis in counsaill full conande,
That my regioun so riall is ruled her be rest,
For I wate of no wighte in this worlde that is wonnande
That in forges any felouné, with force sall be fest.
Arest yoe tho rebaldes that vnrewly are rownand,
Be they kyngis or knyghtis, in care yoe thaim cast,
Yaa, and welde tham in woo to wonne, in the wanyand;
What browle that is brawlyng his brayne loke yoe brest,
And dynge yoe hym doune.

Miles 1
Sir, what foode in faith will yoou feese,
That sott full sone myselfe sall hym sesse.

Miles 2
We sall noght here doute to do hym disesse,
But with countenaunce full cruell we sall crake her his croune.

Herod
My sone that is semely, howe semes the ther sawes?
Howe comely ther knyghtis thei carpe in this case.

Filius
Fadir, if thai like noght to listyn youre lawes,
As traytoures ontrewe ye sall teche them a trace,
For fadir, vnkyndnes yoe kythe them no cause.

Herod
Faire falle the my faire sone, so fettis of face.
And knyghtis, I comaunde, who to dule drawes,
Thas churles as cheueleres ye chastise and chase,
And drede yoe no doute.

Filius
Fadir, I sall fell tham in fight,
What renke that reves you youre right.

Miles 1
With dyntes to dede bes he dight
That liste not youre lawes for to lowte.

Rex 1
A, lorde that levis, euerelastande light,
I loue the evir with harte and hande,
That me has made to se this sight
Whilke my kynrede was coveytande.
Thay saide a sterne with lemys bright
Owte of the eest shulde stabely stande,
And that it shulde meffe mekill myght
Of one that shulde be lorde in lande,
That men of synne shulde saff.
And certis I sall saye,
God graunte me happe to haue
Wissyng of redy waye.

Rex 2
All-weldand God that all has wroght,
I worshippe the als is worthye,
That with thy brightnes has me broght
Owte of my reame, riche Arabie.
I shall noght seys tille I haue sought
What selcouth thyng it sall syngnyfie,
God graunte me happe so that I myght
Haue grace to gete goode companye,
And my comforte encrese
With thy sterne schynyng shene;
For certis, I sall noght cesse
Tille I witte what it mene.

Rex 3
Lorde God that all goode has bygonne
And all may ende, both goode and euyll,
That made for man both mone and sonne,
And stedde yone sterne to stande stone stille,
Tille I the cause may clerly conne,
God wisse me with his worthy wille.
I hope I haue her felaws fonne
My yarnyng fathfully to fullfille.
Sirs, God yowe saffe ande see,
And were yoow euere fro woo.

Rex 1
Amen, so myght it bee,
And saffe yow sir, also.

Rex 3
Sirs, with youre wille, I wolde yow praye
To telle me some of youre entent,
Whedir ye wende forthe in this way,
And fro what contré yoe are wente?

Rex 2
Full gladly sir I shall yoou say.
A sodayne sight was till vs sente,
A royall sterne that rose or day
Before vs on the firmament,
That garte vs fare fro home
Som poynte therof to preffe.

Rex 3
Sertis syrs, I sawe the same
That makis vs thus to moyfe;
For sirs, I haue herde saye sertayne
Itt shulde be seyne of selcowthe seere,
And ferther therof I wolde freyne;
That makis me moffe in this manere.

Rex 1
Sir, of felashippe are we fayne,
Now sall we wende forth all in feere,
God graunte vs or we come agayne
Som gode hartyng therof to here.
Sir, here is Jerusalem
To wisse vs als we goo,
And beyonde is Bedleem,
Ther schall we seke alsoo.

Rex 3
Sirs, yoe schall wele vndirstande,
For to be wise nowe were it nede;
Sir Herowde is kyng of this lande
And has his lawes her for to leede.

Rex 1
Sir, sen we neghe now thus nerhand,
Vntill his helpe vs muste take heede,
For haue we his wille and his warande
Than may we wende withouten drede.

Rex 2
To haue leve of the lorde,
That is resoune and skyll.

Rex 3
And therto we all accorde,
Wende we and witte his wille.

Nuncius
My lorde ser Herowde, kyng with croune!

Herod
Pees dastarde, in the deueles dispite.

Nuncius
My lorde, now note is nere this towne.

Herod
What, false harlott, liste the flight?
Go betis yone boy and dyngis hym downe.

Miles 2
Lorde, messengeres shulde no man wyte,
It may be for youre awne renoune.

Herod
That wolde I here, do telle on tyte.

Nuncius
My lorde, I mette at morne
Thre kyngis carpand togedir
Of a barne that is borne,
And thei hight to come hiddir.

Herod
Thre kyngis, forsoth?

Nuncius
Sir, so I say,
For I saw thaim myselffe all fere.

Consolator 1
My lorde, appose hym I you pray.

Herod
Say felowe, are they ferre or nere?

Nuncius
Mi lorde, thei will be here this day,
That wote I wele, withouten were.

Herod
Do rewle vs than in riche array,
And ilke man make tham mery chere,
That no sembelant be sene
But frendshippe faire and still,
Till we witte what thei mene,
Whedir it be gud or ill.

Rex 1
The lorde that lenes ay-lastand light
Whilke has vs ledde owte of oure lande,
Kepe the, ser kynge and comely knyght
And all thy folke that we her fynde.

Herod
Mahounde, my god and most of myght,
That has myn hele all in his hande,
He saffe you sirs, semely in sight;
And telle vs nowe som new tithand.

Rex 2
Some sall we saie yoou sir-
A sterne stode vs beforne,
That makis vs speke and spir
Of one that is new-borne.

Herod
New-borne? That burden halde I bad;
And certis, vnwitty men ye wore

Nuncius
Mi lorde ser Herowde, kyng with croune!

Herod
Pees dastard, in the deueles dispite.

Nuncius
Sir, new nott is full nere this towne.

Herod
What, false losell, liste the flighte?
Go bette both and dyng tham downe.

Miles 2
Lorde, messengers shulde no man wyte,
It may be for youre awne rennowne.

Herod
That wolde I here, telle on tyte.

Nuncius
Mi lorde, I mette at morne
Iij kyngis carpand togedir
Of one that is nowe borne,
And thai hight to come hedir.

Herod
Thre kyngis, forsothe?

Nuncius
Sir, so I saie,
For I saughe them myself all feere.

Consolator 1
My lorde, appose hym we yow praye.

Herod
Say felowe, ar they ferre or nere?

Nuncius
Mi lorde, thei will be here this day,
That wotte I wele, withouten were.

Herod
Haue done. Dresse vs in riche array,
And ilke man make tham mery chere,
That no sembland be seene
But frenshippe faire and stille,
Tille we wete what thei meene,
Whedir it be gud or ill.

Rex 1
The lorde that lenys this lastand light
Whilke has vs ledde oute of oure lande,
Kepe the, sir kyng and comly knyght,
And all thi folke that we here fande.

Herod
Mahounde, my god and most of myght,
That has myn hele all in his hande,
He saffe you sirs, semely in sight;
And telle vs nowe som new tythande.

Rex 2
Sum shall we saie sir-
A sterne stud vs byforne,
That makis vs speke and spir
Of ane that is nowe-borne.

Herod
Nowe-borne? That birthe halde I badde;
And certis, vnwitty men yoe werre
To leppe ouere lande to laite a ladde.
Say, whan loste yoe hym? Ought lange before?
All wise men will wene yoe madde
And therfore moves this neuer more.

Rex 3
Yis certis, swilke hertyng haue we hadde
We will not cesse or we come thore.

Herod
This were a wondir-thyng.
Saie, what barne shulde that be?

Rex 1
Forsoth, he sall be kynge
Of Jewes and of Judé.

Herod
Kyng? In the deueles name, dogges, fye!
Nowe se I wele yoe roye and raue.
Be any skemeryng of the skye
When shulde ye knawe outhir kyng or knave?

Filius
Naye, he is kyng and non but he,
That sall yoe kenne if that yoe craue,
And he is jugge of all Jurie,
To speke or spille, to saie or saffe.

Herod
Swilke gawdes may gretely greue,
To witnesse that nere was.

Rex 2
Nowe lorde, we axe but leve
Be youre poure to passe.

Herod
Whedirward, in the deuelis name?
To layte a ladde here in my lande?
Fals harlottis, bot yhe hye yoou hame
Ye sall be bette and bune in bande.

Consolator 2
Mi lorde, to fell this foule defame,
Late alle there hye wordis falle on hande,
And spere thaim sadly of the same,
So sall yoe stabely vndirstande
Thaire mynde and ther menyng,
And takes gud tente therto.

Herod
I thanke the of thys thing,
And certis so sall I doo.
Nowe kyngis, to cache all care awaye
Sen yoe are comen oute of youre kyth,
Loke noght ye legge agaynste oure laye,
Vppon payne to lose both lymme and lith.
To lepe ouere lande to late a ladde.
Say, when lost yoe hym? Ought lange before?
All wyse men will wene yoe madde
And therfore moffis it neuere more.

Rex 3
Yis certis, such hartyng haue we hadde
We schall noyot seys or we come thore.

Herod
This were a wondir-thyng.
Say, what barne shulde that be?

Rex 1
Sir, he shall be kyng
Of Jewes and of Judé.

Herod
Kyng? In the deuyl way, dogges, fy!
Now I se wele yoe rothe and raue.
Be ony skymeryng of the skye
When shulde yoe knawe owthir kyng or knave?
Nay, I am kyng and non but I,
That shall yoe kenne yff that yoe craue,
And I am juge of all Jury,
To speke or spille, to saie or saffe.
Swilke gawdes may gretely greue,
To wittenesse that neuere was.

Rex 2
Lorde, we aske noght but leue
Be youre poure to passe.

Herod
Whedir, in the deuyls name?
To late a ladde here in my lande?
Fals harlottis, but yoe hye you hame
Ye shall be bette and boune in bande.

Consolator 2
My lorde, to felle this foule deffame,
Lattis all such wondir falle on hande,
And speres thaim sadly of the same,
So shall yoe stabely vndirstande
Ther mynde and ther menyng,
And takis gud tente tham too.

Herod
I thanke the of this thyng,
And certis so will I doo.
Nowe kyngis, to cache all care away
Sen yoe ar comen oute of youre kytht,
Loke noght ye legge agayne oure lay,
Uppon peyne to lose both lyme and litht.
And so that yoe the soth will saye
To come and go I graunte you grith,
And yf youre poyntes be to my paye
May fall myselfe sall wende yoou with.

Rex 1
Sir kyng, we all accorde,
And sais a barne is borne
That sall be kyng and lorde,
And leche tham that ar lorne.

Rex 2
Sir, ye thar meruaylle nothynge
Of this ilke noote that thusgattes newes,
For Balaham saide a starne shulde sprynge
Of Jacob kynde, and that is Jewes.

Rex 3
Isaie sais a maiden yonge
Sall bere a barne emange Ebrewes,
That of all contrees sal be kynge
And gouerne all that on erthe grewes;
Emanuell beiths his name,
To say, ‘Goddis sone of heuené,
And certis this is the same
That we here to you neuen.

Rex 1
Sir, the proued prophete Ossee
Full trewly tolde in towne and toure,
A maiden of Israell, forsoth saide he,
Sall bere oone like to lilly floure.
He menes a childe consayued sall be
Withouten seede of mannys socoure,
And his modir a mayden free,
And he both sonne and saueour.

Rex 2
That fadres talde me beforne
Has no man myght to marre.

Herod
Allas, than am I lorne,
This wax ay werre and werre.

Consolator 1
My lorde, be yoe nothyng abast,
This brigge tille ende sall wele be broght.
Byde tham go furth and frendly frayste
The soth of this that thei haue soght,
And telle it yoou-soo sall yoe traste
Whedir ther tales be trewe or noght.
And so that yoe the soth will saye
To come and goo I graunte yow grith,
And yf youre poynte be to my pay
May falle myselfe shall wende you with.

Rex 1
Sir kyng, we all accorde,
And says a barne is borne
That shall be kyng and lorde,
And leche tham that ar lorne.

Rex 2
Sir, the thar meruayle nothyng
Of this ilke nott that thus-gate newes,
For Balaham saide a starne shulde spring
Of Jacobe kynde, and that is Jewes.

Rex 3
Sir, Isaie sais a mayden yoenge
Shall bere a sone amonge Ebrewes,
That of all contrees shall be kyng
And gouerne all that on erthe grewes;
Emanuell shal be his name,
To saie, ‘God sone of heuen’,
And certis this is the same
That we now to you neven.

Rex 1
Sirs, the proved prophete Osee
Full trulye talde in towne and toure,
That a mayden of Israell, sais he,
Shall bere one like to the lely floure.
He menys a barne consayued shulde be
Withouten seede of man socour,
And is modir a mayden free,
And he both sone and saueour.

Rex 2
That fadirs has talde beforne
Has no man myght to marre.

Herod
Allas, than am I lorne,
This waxith ay werre and werre.

Consolator 1
My lorde, be yoe nothyng abast,
This bryge shall well to ende be broght.
Bidde tham go furthe and frendly frast
The soth of this that thei haue soght,
And telle it yoou-so shall yoe trast
Whedir ther tales be trew or noght.
Than sall yoe waite thaim with a wraste
And make all waste that thei haue wroght.

Herod
Nowe certis, this is wele saide,
This matere makes me fayne.
Sir kyngis, I halde me paied
Off all youre purpose playne.
Wende furth youre forward to fulfill,
To Bedlem is but here at hande;
And speris grathely both gud and ille
Of hym that shulde be lorde in lande;
And comes agayne than me vntill
And telle me trulye youre tithande-
To worshippe hym than were my will,
This sall ye stabely vndirstande.

Rex 2
Certis ser, we sall you say
The soth of that same childe,
In all the haste we may.

Consolator 2
Fares wele-ye be bygilyd.

Herod
Now certis, this is a sotell trayne.
Nowe sall thai trulye take there trace,
And telle me of that swytteron swayne,
And all thare counsaille in this case.
Giffe itt be soth thai shall be slayne,
No golde shall gete them bettir grace;
Bot go we tille they come agayne
And playe vs in som othir place.
This holde I gude counsaill,
Yitt wolde I na man wiste;
For certis, we shall noght faile
To lose tham as vs liste.
Than shall we wayte tham with a wrest
And make all wast that thei haue wroght.

Herod
Nowe certis, this was wele saide,
This matere makes me fayne.
Sir kyngis, I halde me paide
Of all youre purpose playne.
Wendis furth youre forward to fulfill,
To Bedlem, it is but here at hande;
And speris grathe bothe goode and ill
Of hym that shulde be lorde in lande;
And comes agayne than me vntill
And telle me trulye youre tythande-
To worshippe hym, that is my will,
Thus shall yoe stabely vndirstande.

Rex 2
Sertis syr, we sall you say
Alle the soth of that childe,
In alle the hast that we may.

Consolator 2
Fares wele-yoe be bygilid.

Herod
Nowe certis, this is a sotille trayne.
Nowe shall thei trewly take ther trace,
And telle me of that littil swayne,
And ther counsaill in this case.
If it be soth thei shall be slayne,
No golde shall gete tham bettir grace.
Go we nowe till thei come agayne
To playe vs in som othir place.
This halde I gud counsaill,
Yitt wolde I no man wist;
For sertis, we shall not faill
To loyse tham as vs list.

Rex 1
A, sirs, for sight what shall I say?
Whare is oure syne? I se it noth.

Rex 2
No more do I. Nowe dar I lay
In oure wendyng som wrange is wroght.

Rex 3
Vnto that prince I rede we praye,
That till vs sente his syngne vnsoght,
That he wysse vs in redy way
So frendly that we fynde hym moght.

Rex 1
A, siris, I se it stande
Aboven where he is borne,
Lo, here is the house at hande,
We haue noyot myste this morne.

Ancilla
Whame seke yoe syrs, be wayes wilde,
With talkyng, trauelyng to and froo?
Her wonnes a woman with hir childe
And hir husband, her ar no moo.

Rex 2
We seke a barne that all shall bylde,
His sartayne syngne hath saide vs soo,
And his modir, a mayden mylde,
Her hope we to fynde tham twoo.

Ancilla
Come nere gud syirs and see,
Youre way to ende is broght.

Rex 3
Behalde here syirs, her and se
The same that yoe haue soght.

Rex 1
Loved be that lorde that lastis aye,
That vs has kydde thus curtaysely
To wende by many a wilsom way,
And come to this clene companye.

Rex 2
Late vs make nowe no more delay,
But tyte take furth oure tresurry
And ordand giftis of gud aray,
To worshippe hym als is worthy.

Rex 3
He is worthy to welde
All worshippe, welthe, and wynne;
And for honnoure and elde
Brother, yoe shall begynne.

Rex 1
Hayle, the fairest of felde, folke for to fynde,
Fro the fende and his feeres faithefully vs fende;
Hayll, the best that shall be borne to vnbynde
All the barnes that are borne and in bale bende.
Hayll, thou marc us thi men and make vs in mynde,
Sen thi myght is on molde misseis to amende.
Hayll, clene that is comen of a kynges kynde,
And shall be kyng of this kyth, all clergy has kende.
And sith it shall worthe on this wise,
Thyselffe haue I soght sone, I say the,
With golde that is grettest of price;
Be paied of this present I pray the.

Rex 2
Hayll, foode that thy folke fully may fede,
Hayll floure fairest, that neuer shall fade,
Hayll, sone that is sente of this same sede
That shall saue vs of synne that oure syris had.
Hayll mylde, for thou mett to marke vs to mede,
Off a may makeles thi modir thou made;
In that gude thurgh grace of thy Godhede
Als the gleme in the glasse gladly thow glade.
And sythyn thow shall sitte to be demand,
To helle or to heuen for to haue vs,
Insens to thi seruis is semand.
Sone, se to thi suggettis and saue vs.

Rex 3
Hayll barne that is best oure balys to bete,
For our boote shall thou be bounden and bett;
Hayll frende faithtfull, we fall to thy feete,
Thy fadiris folke fro the fende to the fette.
Hayll, man that is made to thi men mette,
Sen thou and thy modir with mirthis ar mette;
Hayll duke that dryues dede vndir fete,
But whan thy dedys ar done to dye is thi dette.
And sen thy body beryed shal be,
This mirre will I giffe to thi grauyng.
The gifte is noght grete of degree,
Ressayue it, and se to oure sauyng.

Mary
Sir kyngis, yoe trauel not in vayne.
Als yoe haue ment, hyr may yoe fynde,
For I consayued my sone sartayne
Withouten misse of man in mynde,
And bare hym here withouten payne,
Where women ar wonte to be pynyd.
Goddis aungell in his gretyng playne
Saide he shulde comforte al mankynde,
Tharfore doute yow no dele
Here for to haue youre bone,
I shall witnesse full wele
All that is saide and done.

Rex 1
For solas ser now may we synge,
All is parformed that we for prayde;
But gud barne, giffe vs thy blissing,
For faire happe is before the laide.

Rex 2
Wende we nowe to Herowde the kyng
For of this poynte he will be paied,
And come hymselffe and make offeryng
Vnto this same, for so he saide.

Rex 3
I rede we reste a thrawe,
For to maynteyne our myght,
And than do as we awe,
Both vnto kyng and knyght.

Angel
Nowe curtayse kynges, to me take tent
And turne betyme or yoe be tenyd,
Fro God hymselfe thus am I sent
To warne yow als youre faithfull frende.
Herowde the kyng has malise ment
And shappis with shame yow for to shende,
And for that yoe non harmes shulde hente,
Be othir waies God will ye wende
Euen to youre awne contré.
And yf yoe aske hym bone,
Youre beelde ay will he be
For this that yoe haue done.

Rex 1
A, lorde, I loue the inwardly.
Sirs, God has gudly warned vs thre,
His aungell her now herde haue I,
And how he saide.

Rex 2
Sir, so did we.
He saide Herowde is oure enmye,
And makis hym bowne oure bale to be
With feyned falsed, and forthy
Farre fro his force I rede we flee.

Rex 3
Syrs, faste I rede we flitte,
Ilkone till oure contré,
He that is welle of witte
Vs wisse, and with yow be.

Prisbeter
Almyghty God in heven so hy,
The maker of all heven and erth,
He ordenyd here all thynges evenly,
For man he ment to mend his myrth.
In nomber, weight, and mesure fyne
God creat here al thyng, I say,
His lawes he bad men shulde not tyne,
But kepe his commandmentes allway.
In the mount of Syney full fayre,
And in two tabyls to you to tell,
His lawes to Moyses tuke God there
To geve to the chylder of Israell,
That Moyses shuld theme gyde alway,
And lerne theme lely to knowe Goddes wyll,
And that he shulde not it denay,
But kepe his lawes stable and styll.
For payn that he hadd putt therefore,
To stone all theme that kepis it nott
Vtterly to death, both lesse and moore;
There shulde no marcy for them be soght.
Therefore kepe well Goddes commandement,
And leyd your lyf after his lawes,
Or ells surely ye mon be shent
Bothe lesse and moore, ylkone on rawes.
This is his wyll after Moyses lawe:
That ye shulde bryng your beistes good
And offer theme here your God to knawe,
And frome your synns to turne your moode.
Suche beestes as God hais marked here,
Vnto Moyses he spake as I yow tell,
And bad hyme boldly with good chere,
To say to the chylder of Israell
That after dyvers seknes seer
And after dyvers synes alsoo,
Go bryng your beestes to the preest even here
To offer theme vp in Goddes sight, loo.
The woman that hais borne her chylde,
She shall comme hether at the forty day
To be puryfied where she was fylde,
And bryng with her a lame, I say,
And two dove-byrdes for her offerand,
And take them to the preest of lay
To offer theme vp with his holy hand;
There shulde no man to this say nay.
The lame is offeryd for Goddes honour
In sacrefyes all onely dight,
And the preistes prayer purchace secure
For the woman that was fylyd in God sight.
And yf so be that she be power
And haue no lame to offer, than
Two tyrtle-doves to Godes honoure
To bryng with her for her offrand.
Loo, here am I preest present alway,
To resave all offerandes that hydder is broght,
And for the people to God to pray
That helth and lyfe to theme be wroght.

Anna
Here in this holy playce I say
Is my full purpose to abyde,
To serve my God bothe nyght and day
With prayer and fastyng in ever-ylk a tyde.
For I haue beyn a wyddo this threscore yere
And foure yere to, the truthe to tell,
And here I haue terryed with full good chere
For the redempcyon of Israell.
And so for my holy conversacion
Grete grace to me hais nowe God sent,
To tell by profecy for mans redempcion
What shall befall by Goddes intent.
I tell you all here in this place,
By Godes vertue in prophecy,
That one is borne to oure solace,
Here to be present securely
Within short space,
Of his owen mother, a madyn free,
Of all vyrgens moost chaist suthly,
The well of mekenes, blyssed myght she be,
Moost full of grace.
And Symeon, that senyour
That is so semely in Godes sight,
He shall hyme se and do honour
And in his armes he shall hym plight,
That worthy leyd.
Of the holy goost he shall suthly
Take strength, and answere when he shall hy
Furth to this temple and place holy
To do that deyd.

Symeon
A, blyssed God, thowe be my beylde
And beat my baill bothe nyght and day,
In hevynes my hart is hylde,
Vnto myself, loo thus I say.
For I ame wayke and all vnwelde,
My welth ay wayns and passeth away,
Whereso I fayre in fyrth or feylde
I fall ay downe for febyll, in fay.
In fay I fall whereso I fayre,
In hayre and hewe and hyde I say.
Owte of this worlde I wolde I were,
Thus wax I warr and warr alway
And my myscheyf growes in all that may.
Bot thowe myghty lorde my mornyng mar;
Mar ye, for it shulde me well pay,
So happy to se hyme yf I warr.
Nowe certys then shulde my gamme begynne
And I myght se hyme, of hyme to tell,
That one is borne withouten synne
And for mankynde mans myrth to mell.
Borne of a woman and madyn fre,
As wytnesse Davyt and Danyell,
Withouten synne or velanye,
As said also Isacheell.
And Melachiell that proffett snell
Hais tolde vs of that babb so bright,
That he shulde comme with vs to dwell
In our temple as leme of light.
And other proffettes prophesieth
And of this blyssed babb dyd mell,
And of his mother, a madyn bright,
In prophecy the truth gan tell,
That he shulde comme and harro hell
As a gyant grathly to glyde,
And fersly the feyndes malles to fell
And putt there poors all on syde.
The worthyest wight in this worlde so wyde
His vertues seer no tong can tell,
He sendes all soccour in ylke tyde
As redemption of Israell.
Thus say they all,
There patryarkes and ther prophettes clere:
‘A babb is borne to be oure fere,
Knytt in oure kynde for all our chere
To grete and small’.
Ay, well were me for ever and ay
If I myght se that babb so bright
Or I were buryed here in clay,
Then wolde my cors here mend in myght
Right faithfully.
Nowe lorde, thowe grant to me thy grace
To lyf here in this worlde a space,
That I myght se that babb in his face
Here or I dy.
A, lorde God, I thynke may I endure,
Trowe we that babb shall fynde me here;
Nowe certys with aige I ame so power
That ever it abaites my chere.
Yet yf kynde fale for aige in me,
God yett may length my lyfe suthly,
Tyll I that babb and foode so free
Haue seyn in sight.
For trewly, yf I wyst relesse
Thare shulde nothyng my hart dyseas;
Lorde, len me grace yf that thowe pleas
And make me light.
When wyll thowe comme babb? Let se, haue done;
Nay, comme on tyte and tarry nott,
For certys my lyf-days are nere done,
For aige to me grete wo hais wroght.
Great wo is wroght vnto mans harte
Whan he muste want that he wolde haue;
I kepe no longar to haue quarte
For I haue seen that I for crave.
A, trowes thowe these ij eyes shall see
That blyssed babb or they be owte?
Ye, I pray God so myght it be-
Then were I putt all owte of dowte.

Angel
Olde Symeon, Gods seruaunt right,
Bodworde to the I bryng I say,
For the holy goost moost of myght,
He says thowe shall not dye away
To thowe haue seen
Jesu the babb that Mary bare,
For all mankynde to slake there care.
He shall do comforth to lesse and mayr,
Both morne and even.

Symeon
A, lorde, gramarcy nowe I say
That thowe this grace hais to me hight,
Or I be buryed here in clay
To se that semely beam so bright.
No man of molde may haue more happ
To my solace and myrth allway,
Than for to se that Mary lapp
Jesu my joy and savyour ay,
Blyssyd be his name.
Loo, nowe mon I se, the truth to tell,
The redempcion of Israell,
Jesu my lorde Emanuell,
Withouten blame.

Mary
Joseph my husbonde and my feer,
Ye take to me grathely entent,
I wyll you showe in this manere
What I wyll do, thus haue I ment:
Full xl days is comme and went
Sens that my babb Jesu was borne,
Therefore I wolde he were present
As Moyses lawes sais hus beforne,
Here in this temple before Goddes sight
As other women doith in feer,
So methynke good skyll and right
The same to do nowe with good chere,
After Goddes sawe.

Joseph
Mary my spowse and madyn clene,
This matter that thowe moves to me
Is for all these women bedene
That hais conceyved with syn fleshely
To bere a chylde.
The lawe is ledgyd for theme right playn,
That they muste be puryfied agayne,
For in mans pleasoure for certayn
Before were they fylyd.
But Mary, byrde, thowe neyd not soo
For this cause to be puryfiede, loo,
In Goddes temple.
For certys thowe arte a clene vyrgyn
For any thoght thy harte within,
Nor never wroght no flesly synne
Nor never yll.

Mary
That I my madenheade hais kept styll
It is onely throgh Godds wyll,
That be ye bold.
Yett to fulfyll the lawe ewysse,
That God almyghty gon expresse,
And for a sample of mekenesse
Offer I wolde.

Joseph
A, Mary, blyssed be thowe ay,
Thowe thynkes to do after Goddes wyll,
As thowe haist said Mary, I say,
I will hartely consent theretyll
Withouten dowte.
Wherefore we dresse vs furth oure way
And make offerand to God this day,
Even lykwyse as thyself gon say
With hartes devowte.

Mary
Therto am I full redy dight,
But one thyng Joseph I wolde you meyve.

Joseph
Mary my spouse and madyn bright,
Tell on hartely, what is your greyf?

Mary
Both beest and fewll hus muste neydes haue,
As a lambe and ij dove-byrdes also.
Lame haue we none nor none we crave,
Therefore Joseph what shall we do,
What is your read?
And we do not as custome is,
We are worth to be blamyd iwysse,
I wolde we dyd nothyng amys
As God me speyd.

Joseph
A, good Mary, the lawe is this:
To riche to offer bothe the lame and the byrd,
And the poore ij tyrtles iwys.
Or two doyf-byrdes shall not be fyrd
For our offerand;
And Mary, we haue doyf-byrdes two
As falls for hus, therefore we goo-
They ar here in a panyer, loo,
Reddy at hand.
And yf we haue not both in feer,
The lame, the burd, as ryche men haue,
Thynke that vs muste present here
Oure babb Jesus, as we voutsaue
Before Godes sight.
He is our lame Mary, kare the not,
For riche and power none better soght;
Full well thowe hais hym hither broght,
This our offerand right.
He is the lame of God I say,
That all our syns shall take away
Of this worlde here.
He is the lame of God verray
That muste hus fend frome all our fray,
Borne of thy wombe, all for our pay
And for our chere.

Mary
Joseph my spowse, ye say full trewe,
Than lett vs dresse hus furth our way.

Joseph
Go we than Mary, and do oure dewe,
And make meekly offerand this day.
Lo, here is the tempyll on this hyll
And also preest ordand by skyll,
Power havand.
And Mary, go we thyther forthy,
And lett vs both knele devowtly,
And offre we vp to God meekly
Our dewe offrand.

Mary
Vnto my God highest in heven
And to this preest ordand by skyll,
Jesu my babb I offer hyme
Here with my harte and my good wyll
Right hartely.
Thowe pray for hus to God on hyght
Thowe preest, present here in his myght,
At this deyd may be in his sight
Accept goodly.

Joseph
Loo sir, and two doyf-byrddes ar here,
Receyve them with your holy handes,
We ar no better of power,
For we haue neyther rentes ne landes
Trewely.
Bott good sir, pray to God of myght
To accepte this at we haue dight,
That we haue offeryd as we arr hight
Here hartely.

Prisbeter
O God and graunter of all grace,
Blyst be thy name both nyght and day,
Accepte there offerand in this place
That be here present to the alway.
A, blyssed lorde, say never nay,
But lett thys offerand be boot and beylde
Tyll all such folke lyvand in clay,
That thus to the mekly wyll heyld;
That this babb lord, present in thy sight,
Borne of a madyns wombe vnfylde,
Accepte for there specyall gyft
Gevyn to mankynde, both man and chylde,
So specyally.
And this babb borne and here present
May beylde vs, that we be not shent,
But ever reddy his grace to hent
Here verely.
A, blyssyd babb, welcome thowe be,
Borne of a madyn in chaistety,
Thowe art our beylde, babb, our gamme and our glee
Ever sothly.
Welcome oure wytt and our wysdome,
Welcome, our joy all and somme,
Welcomme redemptour omnium
Tyll hus hartely.

Anna
Welcome blyssed Mary and madyn ay,
Welcome, mooste meke in thyne array;
Welcome bright starne that shyneth bright as day,
All for our blys.
Welcome, the blyssed beam so bryght,
Welcome the leym of all oure light,
Welcome that all pleasour hais plight
To man and wyfe.
Welcome thowe blyssed babb so free,
Welcome oure welfayre wyelly
And welcome all our seall, suthly,
To grete and small.
Babb, welcome to thy beyldly boure,
Babb, welcome nowe for our soccoure,
And babb, welcomme with all honour
Here in this hall.

Angel
Olde Symeon, I say to the
Dresse the furth in thyne array,
Come to the temple, there shall thu see
Jesus that babb that Mary barre,
That be thowe bolde.

Symeon
A, lorde, I thanke the ever and ay,
Nowe am I light as leyf on tree,
My age is went, I feyll no fray,
Methynke for this that is tolde me
I ame not olde.
Nowe wyll I to yon temple goo
To se the babb that Mary bare,
He is my helth in well and woo,
And helps me ever frome great care.
Haill blyssed babb that Mary bare,
And blyssed be thy mother, Mary mylde,
Whose wombe that yeildyd fresh and fayr
And she a clean vyrgen ay vnfyld.
Haill babb, the father of heven own chylde
Chosen to chere vs for our myschance;
No erthly tong can tell vnfylyd
What thy myght is in every chance.
Haill, the moost worthy to enhance,
Boldly thowe beylde frome all yll,
Withoute thy beylde we gytt grevance
And for our deydes here shulde we spyll.
Haill floscampy and flower vyrgynall,
The odour of thy goodnes reflars to vs all.
Haill, moost happy to great and to small
For our weyll.
Haill ryall roose, moost ruddy of hewe,
Haill flour vnfadyng, both freshe ay and newe,
Haill the kyndest in comforth that ever man knewe
For grete heyll.
And mekly I beseke the here where I kneyll
To suffre thy servant to take the in hand,
And in my narmes for to heue the here for my weyll,
And where I bound am in bayll to bait all my bandes.
Nowe come to me, lorde of all landes,
Comme myghtyest by see and by sandes,
Come myrth by strete and by strandes
On moolde.
Come halse me, the babb that is best born,
Come halse me, the myrth of our morne,
Come halse me, for ells I ame lorne
For olde.
I thanke the lord God of thy greet grace
That thus haith sparyd me a space,
This babb in my narmes for to inbrace
As the prophecy telles.
I thanke the that me my lyfe lent,
I thanke the that me thus seyll sent,
That this sweyt babb, that I in armes hent
With myrth my myndes alwais melles.
Mellyd are my myndes ay with myrth,
Full fresh nowe I feyll is my force,
Of thy grace thowe gave me this gyrth
Thus comly to catch here thy corse
Moost semely in sight.
Of helpe thus thy freynd never faills,
Thy marcy as every man avaylls,
Both by downes and by daylls,
Thus mervelous and muche is thy myght.
A, babb, be thowe blyssed for ay,
For thowe art my savyour I say
And thowe here rewles me in fay,
In all my lyfe.
Nowe blist be thi name,
For thowe saves hus fro shame,
And here thou beyld vs fro blame
And frome all stryfe.
Nowe care I no moore for my lyfe
Sen I haue seen here this ryall so ryfe,
My strength and my stynter of stryfe
I you say.
In peace lorde nowe leyf thy servand
For myne eys haith seyn that is ordand,
The helth for all men that be levand
Here for ay.
That helth lorde hais thowe ordand I say
Here before the face of thy people,
And thy light hais thowe shynyd this day
To be knowe of thy folke that was febyll
For evermore.
And thy glory for the chylder of Israell,
That with the in thy kyngdome shall dwell
Whan the damnyd shall be drevyn to hell
Than with great care.

Joseph
Mary, my spowse and madyn mylde,
In hart I marvell here greatly
Howe these folke spekes of our chylde.
They say and tells of great maistry
That he shall doo.

Mary
Yea certes, Joseph, I marvell also,
But I shall bere it full styll in mynde.

Joseph
God geve hyme grace here well to do,
For he is comme of gentyll kynde.

Symeon
Harke Mary, I shall tell the the truth or I goo.
This was putt here to welde vs fro wo,
In redemption of many and recover also,
I the say.
And the sworde of sorro thy hart shal thyrll
Whan thowe shall se sothly thy son soffer yll
For the well of all wrytches, that shall be his wyll
Here in fay.
But to be comforth agayn right well thowe may,
And in harte to be fayne, the suth I the say,
For his myght is so muche thare can no tong say nay
Here to his wyll.
For this babb as a gyant full graythly shall glyde
And the myghtiest mayster shall meve on ylke syde,
To all the wightes that wons in this worlde wyde,
For good or for yll.
Tharefore babb, beylde vs that we here not spyll,
And fayrwell the former of all at thy wyll,
Fayrwell starne stabylyst by lowde and be styll,
In suthfastnes.
Fayrwell the ryolest roose that is renyng,
Fayrwell the babb best in thy beryng,
Fayrwell God son, thowe grant vs thy blyssyng
To fyne our dystresse.

Joseph
Thow maker that is most of myght,
To thy mercy I make my mone;
Lord, se vnto this symple wight
That hase non helpe but the allone.
For all this worlde I haue forsaken,
And to thy seruice I haue me taken
With witte and will
For to fulfill
Thi commaundement.
Theron myn herte is sette
With grace thou has me lente,
Thare schall no lede me lette.
For all my triste lorde is in the
That made me man, to thy liknes.
Thow myghtfull maker, haue mynde on me
And se vnto my sympplenes.
I waxe wayke as any wande,
For febill me faylles both foote and hande;
Whateuere it mene,
Methynke myne eyne
Hevye as leede.
Therfore I halde it best
A whille her in this stede
To slepe and take my reste.

Mary
Thow luffely lord that last schall ay,
My God, my lorde, my sone so dere,
To thy Godhede hartely I pray
With all myn harte holy entere.
As thou me to thy modir chaas,
I beseke the of thy grace
For all mankynde
That has in mynde
To wirshippe the.
Thou se thy saules to saue,
Jesu my sone so free,
This bone of the I crave.

Angel
Wakyn Joseph, and take entent,
My sawes schall seece thy sorowe sare.
Be noght heuy, thi happe is hentte,
Tharefore I bidde the slepe no mare.

Joseph
A, myghtfull lorde, whateuere that mente?
So swete a voyce herde I neuere ayre.
But what arte thou with steuen so shylle
Thus in my slepe that spekis me till?
To me appere
And late me here
What that thou was.

Angel
Joseph, haue thou no drede,
Thou shalte witte or I passe,
Therefore to me take hede.
For I am sente to the,
Gabriell, Goddis aungell bright,
Is comen to bidde the flee
With Marie and hir worthy wight.
For Herowde the kyng gars doo to dede
All knave-childer in ilke a stede,
That he may ta
With yoeris twa
That are of olde.
Tille he be dede, away
In Egipte shall yoe beelde
Tille I witte the for to saie.

Joseph
Aye-lastand lord, loved mott thou be
That thy swete sande wolde to me sende.
But lorde, what ayles the kyng at me,
For vnto hym I neuere offende?
Allas, what ayles hym for to spille
Smale yoonge barnes that neuere did ille
In worde ne dede,
Vnto no lede
Be nyght nor day?
And sen he wille vs schende,
Dere lorde, I the praye,
Thou wolde be oure frende,
For be he neuere so wode or wrothe
For all his force thou may vs fende.
I praye the lorde, kepe us fro skathe,
Thy socoure sone to vs thou sende;
For vnto Egipte wende we will
Thy biddyng baynly to fulfill,
As worthy is
Thou kyng of blisse,
Thi will be wroght.
Marie my doughtir dere,
On the is all my thought.

Mary
A, leue Joseph, what chere?

Joseph
The chere of me is done for ay.

Mary
Allas, what tythandis herde haue yoe?

Joseph
Now certis, full ille to the at saye,
Ther is noght ellis but us most flee
Owte of oure kyth where we are knowyn,
Full wightely bus vs be withdrawen,
Both thou and I.

Mary
Leue Joseph, why?
Layne it noght,
To doole who has vs demed,
Or what wronge haue we wroght
Wherfore we shulde be flemyd?

Joseph
Wroght we harme? Nay, nay, all wrange,
Wytte thou wele it is noght soo.
That yonge page liffe thou mon forgange
But yf thou fast flee fro his foo.

Mary
His foo? Allas, what is youre reede,
Wha wolde my dere barne do to dede?
I durk, I dare,
Whoo may my care
Of balis blynne?
To flee I wolde full fayne,
For all this worlde to wynne
Wolde I noght se hym slayne.

Joseph
I warne the he is thraly thrette
With Herowde kyng, harde harmes to haue.
With that mytyng yf that we be mette
Ther is no salue that hym may saue.
I warne the wele, he sleeis all
Knave-childir, grete and small,
In towne and felde
Within the elde
Of two yoere,
And for thy sones sake.
He will fordo that dere,
May that traytoure hym take.

Mary
Leue Joseph, who tolde yow this?
How hadde yoe wittering of this dede?

Joseph
An aungell bright that come fro blisse
This tythandis tolde withouten drede,
And wakynd me oute of my slepe
That comely childe fro cares to kepe,
And bad me flee
With hym and the
Onto Egipte.
And sertis I dred me sore
To make any smale trippe,
Or tyme that I come thare.

Mary
What ayles thei at my barne
Slike harmes hym for to hete?
Allas, why schulde I tharne
My sone his liffe so swete?
His harte aught to be ful sare,
On slike a foode hym to forfare
That nevir did ill,
Hym for to spill,
And he ne wate why.
I ware full wille of wane
My sone and he shulde dye,
And I haue but hym allone.

Joseph
We, leue Marie, do way, late be!
I pray the, leue of thy dynne,
And fande the furthe faste for to flee,
Away with hym for to wynne,
That no myscheue on hym betyde,
Nor none vnhappe in no-kyn side
Be way nor strete,
That we non mete
To slee hym.

Mary
Allas Joseph, for care,
Why shuld I forgo hym,
My dere barne that I bare?

Joseph
That swete swayne yf thou saue
Do tyte pakke same oure gere,
And such smale harnes as we haue.

Mary
A, leue Joseph, I may not bere.

Joseph
Bere arme? No, I trowe but small.
But God it wote I muste care for all,
For bed and bak
And alle the pakke
That nedis vnto vs.
It fortheres to fene me;
This pakald bere me bus,
Off of all I plege and pleyne me.
But God graunte grace I noght forgete
No tulles that we schulde with vs take.

Mary
Allas Joseph, for greuaunce grete,
Whan shall my sorowe slake,
For I wote noght whedir to fare?

Joseph
To Egipte-talde I the lang are.

Mary
Whare standith itt?
Fayne wolde I witt.

Joseph
What wate I?
I wote not where it stande.

Mary
Joseph, I aske mersy,
Helpe me oute of this lande.

Joseph
Nowe certis Marie, I wolde full fayne
Helpe the al that I may,
And at my poure me peyne
To wynne with hym and the away.

Mary
Allas, what ayles that feende
Thus wilsom wayes make vs to wende?
He dois grete synne,
Fro kyth and kynne
He gares vs flee.

Joseph
Leue Marie, leue thy grete.

Mary
Joseph, full wo is me
For my dere sone so swete.

Joseph
I pray the Marie, happe hym warme
And sette hym softe that he noght syle,
And yf thou will ought ese thyn arme
Gyff me hym, late me bere hym awhile.

Mary
I thanke you of youre grete goode dede;
Nowe gud Joseph tille hym take hede,
That fode so free,
Tille hym yoe see
Now in this tyde.

Joseph
Lat me and hym allone,
And yf thou can ille ride
Haue and halde the faste by the mane.

Mary
Allas Joseph, for woo,
Was neuer wight in worde so will.

Joseph
Do way Marie, and say nought soo,
For thou schall haue no cause thertill.
For witte thou wele, God is oure frende,
He will be with vs wherso we lende.
In all oure nede
He will vs spede,
This wote I wele.
I loue my lorde of all;
Such forse methynke I fele,
I may go where I schall.
Are was I wayke, nowe am I wight,
My lymes to welde ay at my wille.
I loue my maker most of myght
That such grace has graunte me tille.
Nowe schall no hatyll do vs harme,
I haue oure helpe here in myn arme.
He wille vs fende
Wherso we lende
Fro tene and tray.
Late vs goo with goode chere-
Farewele and haue gud day-
God blisse vs all in fere.

Mary
Amen as he beste may.

Herod
Powre bewsheris aboute,
Peyne of lyme and lande,
Stente of youre steuenes stoute
And stille as stone yoe stande,
And my carping recorde.
Ye aught to dare and doute,
And lere you lowe to lowte
To me youre louely lord.
Ye awe in felde and towne
To bowe at my bidding,
With reuerence and renoune,
As fallis for swilk a kyng,
The lordlyest on lyue.
Who herto is noght bowne,
Be allmyghty Mahounde,
To dede I schall hym dryue.
So bolde loke no man be
For to aske helpe ne helde
But of Mahounde and me,
That hase this worlde in welde,
To mayntayne vs emell.
For welle of welthe are we
And my cheffe helpe is he;
Herto what can yoe tell?

Consolator 1
Lord, what you likis to do
All folke will be full fayne
To take entente therto,
And none grucche theragayne.
That full wele witte shall yoe,
And yf thai wolde noyot soo
We shulde sone wirke tham woo.

Herod
Ya, faire sirs, so shulde it bee.

Consolator 2
Lorde, the soth to saie,
Fulle wele we vndirstande
Mahounde is God werraye,
And yoe ar lorde of ilke a lande.
Therfore, so haue I seell,
I rede we wayte allway
What myrthe most mende yoou may.

Herod
Sertis, yoe saie right well.
But I am noyed of newe,
That blithe may I noyot be,
For thre kyngis as yoe knowe
That come thurgh this contré,
And saide thei sought a swayne.

Consolator 1
That rewlle I hope tham rewe,
For hadde ther tales ben trewe
They hadde comen this waye agayne.

Consolator 2
We harde how thei yoou hight,
Yf they myght fynde that childe
For to haue tolde yoou right,
But certis thei are begilyd.
Swilke tales ar noght to trowe,
Full wele wotte ilke a wight,
Ther schalle neuere man haue myght
Ne maystrie unto yoou.

Consolator 1
Tham schamys so, for certayne,
That they dar mete you no more.

Herod
Wherfore shulde thei be fayne
To make swilke fare before,
To saie a boy was borne
That schulde be moste of mayne?
This gadlyng schall agayne
Yf that the deuyll had sworne.
For be well neuer thei wotte
Whedir thei wirke wele or wrang,
To frayne garte tham thus-gate
To seke that gedlyng gang,
And swilke carping to kith.

Consolator 2
Nay lorde, they lered ouere-latte
Youre blisse schal neuere abatte,
And therfore lorde, be blithe.

Nuncius
Mahounde withouten pere,
My lorde, yoou saue and see.

Herod
Messenger, come nere,
And bewcher, wele the be.
What tydyngis? Telles thou any?

Nuncius
Ya lorde. Sen I was here
I haue sought sidis seere,
And sene merueyllis full many.

Herod
And of meruayles to mene
That wer most myrthe to me.

Nuncius
Lorde, euen as I haue seene
The soth sone schall yoe see,
Yf yoe wille, here in hye.
I mette tow townes betwene
Thre kyngis with crounes clene,
Rydand full ryally.

Herod
A, my blys, boy, thou burdis to brode.

Nuncius
Sir, ther may no botment be.

Herod
Owe, by sonne and mone,
Than tydis vs talis tonyght.
Hopes thou thei will come sone
Hedir, as thei haue hight,
For to telle me tythande?

Nuncius
Nay lorde, that daunce is done.

Herod
Why, whedir are thei gone?

Nuncius
Ilkone into ther owne lande.

Herod
How sais thou ladde? Late be.

Nuncius
I saie, for they are past.

Herod
What, forthe away fro me?

Nuncius
Ya lord, in faitht ful faste,
For I herde and toke hede
How that thei wente all thre
Into ther awne contré.

Herod
A, dogges, the deuell yoou spede.

Nuncius
Sir, more of ther menyng
Yitt well I vndirstode,
How thei hadde made offering
Vnto that frely foode
That nowe of newe is borne.
Thai saie he schulde be kyng
And welde all erthely thyng.

Herod
Allas, than am I lorne.
Fy on thaym, faytours, fy!
Wille thei begylle me thus?

Nuncius
Lorde, by ther prophicy
Thei named his name Jesus.

Herod
Fy on the ladde, thou lyes.

Consolator 2
Hense tyte but thou the hye,
With doulle her schall thou dye,
That wreyes hym on this wise.

Nuncius
Ye wyte me all with wrang,
Itt is thus and wele warre.

Herod
Thou lyes, false traytoure strange,
Loke neuere thou negh me nere.
Vppon liffe and lymme
May I that faitour fange,
Full high I schall gar hym hange,
Both the, harlott, and hym.

Nuncius
I am nott worthy to wyte,
Bot fareswele all the heppe.

Consolator 1
Go, in the deueles dispite,
Or I schall gar the leppe
And dere aby this bro.

Herod
Als for sorowe and sighte
My woo no wighte may wryte;
What deuell is best to do?

Consolator 2
Lorde, amende youre chere
And takis no nedles noy,
We schall yoou lely lere
That ladde for to distroye,
Be counsaille if we cane.

Herod
That may yoe noght come nere,
For it is past two yoere
Sen that this bale begane.

Consolator 1
Lorde, therfore haue no doute,
Yf it were foure or fyve.
Gars gadir in grete rowte
Youre knyghtis kene belyue,
And biddis tham dynge to dede
Alle knave childir kepte in clowte,
In Bedlem and all aboute,
To layte in ilke a stede.

Consolator 2
Lorde, saue none, for youre seell,
That are of ij yoere age withinne,
Than schall that fandelyng felle
Belyue his blisse schall blynne,
With bale when he schall blede.

Herod
Sertis, yoe saie right wele,
And as yoe deme ilke dele
Shall I garre do indede.
Sir knyghtis, curtayse and hende,
Thow the nott bees nowe all newe,
Ye schall fynde me youre frende
And yoe this tyme be trewe.

Miles 1
What saie yoe lorde? Lette see.

Herod
To Bedlehem bus yoe wende,
That schorwe with schame to schende
That menes to maistir me.
And abowte Bedlehem bathe
Bus yowe wele spere and spye,
For ellis it will be wathe
That he losis this Jury,
And certis that were grete schame.

Miles 2
My lorde, that wer vs lathe,
And he escapid it wer skathe
And we welle worthy blame.

Miles 1
Full sone he schall be soughte,
That make I myne avowe.

Consolator 1
I bide for hym yoow loghte,
And latte me telle yowe howe
To werke when yoe come there:
Bycause yoe kenne hym noght,
To dede they muste be brought,
Knave-childre, lesse and more.

Herod
Yaa, all withinne two yoere,
That none for speche be spared.

Miles 2
Lord, howe yoe vs lere
Full wele we take rewarde,
And certis we schall not rest.

Miles 1
Comes furth felowes in feere,
Loo, fondelyngis fynde we here
[…     …]

Mulier 1
Owte on yoow theves, I crye,
Ye slee my semely sone.

Miles 2
Ther browls schall dere abye
This bale that is begonne,
Therfore lay fro the faste.

Mulier 2
Allas for doule, I dye,
To saue my sone schall I,
Aye-whils my liff may last.

Miles 1
A, dame, the deuyll the spede
And me, but itt be quytte.

Mulier 1
To dye I haue no drede
I do the wele to witte,
To saue my sone so dere.

Miles 1
Asarmes, for nowe is nede;
But yf we do yone dede
Ther quenys will quelle vs here.

Mulier 2
Allas, this lothly striffe,
No blisse may be my bette,
The knyght vppon his knyffe
Hath slayne my sone so swette,
And I hadde but hym allone.

Mulier 1
Allas, I lose my liffe,
Was neuere so wofull a wyffe
Ne halffe so wille of wone;
And certis, me were full lotht
That thei thus harmeles yoede.

Miles 1
The deuell myght spede you bothe,
False wicchis, ar yoe woode?

Mulier 2
Nay, false lurdayns, yoe lye.

Miles 1
Yf yoe be woode or wrothe
Ye schall noyot skape fro skathe;
Wende we vs hense in hye.

Mulier 1
Allas that we wer wroughte
In worlde women to be,
The barne that wee dere bought
Thus in oure sighte to see
Disputuously spill.

Mulier 2
And certis, ther nott is noght,
The same that thei haue soughte
Schall thei neuere come till.

Miles 1
Go we to the kyng.
Of all this contek kene
I schall nott lette for nothyng
To saie as we haue sene.

Miles 2
And certis, no more shall I;
We haue done his bidding
How so they wraste or wryng,
We schall saie sothfastly.

Miles 1
Mahounde oure god of myght,
Saue the, sir Herowde the kyng.

Consolator 1
Lorde, take kepe to youre knyght,
He wille telle yoou nowe tyding
Of bordis wher they haue bene.

Herod
Yaa, and thei haue gone right
And holde that thei vs hight,
Than shall solace be sene.

Miles 2
Lorde, as yoe demed vs to done
In contrees wher we come-

Herod
Sir, by sonne and mone,
Ye are welcome home
And worthy to haue rewarde.
Haue yoe geten vs this gome?

Miles 1
Wher we fande felle or fone
Wittenesse we will that ther was none.

Miles 2
Lorde, they are dede ilkone,
What wolde yoe we ded more?

Herod
I aske but aftir oone
The kyngis tolde of before,
That schulde make grete maistrie;
Telle vs if he be tane.

Miles 1
Lorde, tokenyng hadde we none
To knawe that brothell by.

Miles 2
In bale we haue tham brought
Aboute all Bedleham towne.

Herod
Ye lye, yooure note is nought,
The deueles of helle yoou droune.
So may that boy be fledde,
For in waste haue yoe wroght.
Or that same ladde be sought
Schalle I neuere byde in bedde.

Consolator 1
We will wende with you than,
To dynge that dastard doune.

Herod
Asarme euere-ilke man
That holdis of Mahounde.
Wer they a thousand skore
This bargayne schall thai banne.
Comes aftir as yhe canne,
For we will wende before.

Joseph
Marie, of mirthis we may vs mene,
And trewly telle betwixte vs twoo
Of solempne sightis that we haue sene
In that cité where we come froo.

Mary
Sertis, Joseph, yoe will noyot wene
What myrthis within my harte I maie,
Sen that oure sone with vs has bene
And sene ther solempne sightis alswae.

Joseph
Hamward I rede we hye
In all the myght we maye,
Because of company
That will wende in oure waye,
For gode felawshippe haue we fone
And ay so forward schall we fynde.

Mary
A, sir, where is oure semely sone?
I trowe oure wittis be waste as wynde.
Allas, in bale thus am I boone,
What ayleth vs both to be so blynde?
To go ouere-fast we haue begonne
And late that louely leue behynde.

Joseph
Marie, mende thy chere,
For certis whan all is done
He comes with folke in feere,
And will oueretake vs sone.

Mary
Oueretake vs sone sir? Certis nay,
Such gabbyngis may me noyot begyle,
For we haue trauelde all this day
Fro Jerusalem many a myle.

Joseph
I wende he hadde bene with vs aye,
Awaye fro vs how schulde he wyle?

Mary
Hit helpis nought such sawes to saie,
My barne is lost, allas the whille,
That euere we wente theroute
With hym in companye.
We lokid ouere-late aboute,
Full wooe is me forthy,
For he is wente som wayes wrang,
And non is worthy to wyte but wee.

Joseph
Agaynewarde rede I that we gang
The right way to that same citee,
To spire and spie all men emang,
For hardely homward gone is he.

Mary
Of sorowes sere schal be my sang,
My semely sone tille I hym see,
He is but xij yoere alde.

Joseph
What way someuere he wendis
Woman, we may be balde
To fynde hym with oure frendis.

Magister 1
Maistirs, takes to me intente,
And rede youre resouns right on rawe,
And all the pepull in this present,
Euere-ilke man late see his sawe.
But witte I wolde, or we hens wente,
Be clargy clere if we couthe knawe
Yf any lede that liffe has lente
Wolde aught allegge agaynste oure lawe,
Owthir in more or lesse.
Yf we defaute myght feele,
Dewly we schall gar dresse
Be dome euery-ilk a dele.

Magister 2
That was wele saide, so mot I the,
Swilke notis to neven methynke wer nede,
For maistirs in this lande ar we
And has the lawes lelly to lede,
And doctoures also in oure degree
That demyng has of ilka dede.
Laye fourthe oure bokes belyue, late see,
What mater moste were for oure mede.

Magister 3
We schall ordayne so wele,
Sen we all clergy knawe,
Defaute shall no man fele
Nowdir in dede ne sawe.

Jesus
Lordingis, loue be with yoou lentte
And mirthis be vnto this mené.

Magister 1
Sone, hense away I wolde thou wente,
For othir haftis in hande haue we.

Magister 2
Sone, whoso the hedir sente,
They were nouyot wise, that warne I the,
For we haue othir tales to tente
Than nowe with barnes bordand to be.

Magister 3
Sone, yf the list ought to lere
To lyve by Moyses laye,
Come hedir and thou shalle here
The sawes that we shall saye,
For in som mynde itt may the brynge,
To here oure reasouns redde by rawes.

Jesus
To lerne of you nedis me nothing,
For I knawe both youre dedys and sawes.

Magister 1
Nowe herken yoone barne with his bowrdyng,
He wenes he kens more than we knawes.
We, nay, certis sone, thou arte ouere-yoonge
By clergy yoitt to knowe oure lawes.

Jesus
I wote als wele as yhe
Howe that youre lawes wer wrought.

Magister 2
Cum sitte, sone schall we see,
For certis so semys it noght.
Itt wer wondir that any wight
Vntill oure reasouns right schulde reche.
And thou sais thou hast insight
Oure lawes truly to telle and teche?

Jesus
The holy gost has on me light
And has anoynted me as a leche,
And geven me pleyne poure and myght
The kyngdom of heuene for to preche.

Magister 1
Whens-euere this barne may be
That shewes ther novellis nowe?

Jesus
Certis,I was or yoe,
And schall be aftir yoou.

Magister 1
Sone, of thy sawes, als haue I cele,
And of thy witte is wondir thyng,
But neuere the lesse fully I feele
Itt may falle wele in wirkyng.
For Dauid demys of ilka dele,
And sais thus of childir yoing:
Of ther mouthes, he wate full wele,
Oure lord has parformed loving.
But yoitt sone, schulde thou lette
Here for to speke ouere-large,
For where maistirs are mette
Childre wordis are noyot to charge,
And if thou wolde neuere so fayne,
Yf all the liste to lere the lawe,
Thou arte nowthir of myght ne mayne
To kenne it as a clerke may knawe.

Jesus
Sirs, I saie yoou for sartayne
That suthfast schal be all my sawe,
And poure haue playnere and playne
To say and aunswer as me awe.

Doctor 1
Maistirs, what may this mene?
Meruayle methynke haue I,
Whens-euere this barne haue bene
That carpis thus connandly?

Doctor 2
Als wyde in worlde als we haue wente
Yitt fande we neuere swilke ferly fare,
For certis I trowe this barne be sente
Full souerandly to salue oure sare.

Jesus
Sirs, I schall proue in youre present
Alle the sawes that I saide are.

Doctor 3
Why, whilke callest thou the firste comaundement,
And the moste in Moyses lare?

Jesus
Sirs, sen yoe are sette on rowes
And has youre bokes on brede,
Late se sirs, in youre sawes,
Howe right that yoe can rede.

Doctor 1
I rede this is the firste bidding
That Moyses taught vs here vntill:
To honnoure God ouere all thing
With all thy witte and all thi will,
And all thyn harte in hym schall hyng,
Erlye and late, both lowde and still.

Jesus
Ye nedis non othir bokes to bring,
But fandis this for to fulfill.
The secounde may men preve
And clerly knawe, wherby
Youre neghbours shall yoe loue
Als youreselffe, sekirly.
This comaunded Moyses to all men
In his x comaundementis clere,
In ther ij biddingis, schall we kene,
Hyngis all the lawe that we shall lere.
Whoso ther two fulfilles then
With mayne and myght in goode manere,
He trulye fulfillis all the ten
That aftir folowes in feere.
Than schulde we God honnoure
With all oure myght and mayne,
And loue wele ilke a neghboure
Right as oureselfe, certayne.

Doctor 1
Nowe sone, sen thou haste tolde vs two,
Whilke ar the viij, can thou ought saye?

Jesus
The iij biddis whareso yoe goo
That yoe schall halowe the halyday;
Than is the fourthe for frende or foo
That fadir and modir honnoure ay.
The vte you biddis noght for to sloo
No man nor woman by any way.
The vjte, suthly to see,
Comaundis both more and myne
That thei schalle fande to flee
All filthes of flesshely synne.
The vijte forbedis you to stele
Youre neghboures goodes, more or lesse,
Whilke fautez nowe are founden fele
Emang ther folke, that ferly is.
The viijte lernes yoou for to be lele,
Here for to bere no false witnesse.
Youre neghbours house, whillis yoe haue hele,
The ixte biddis take noyot be stresse.
His wiffe nor his women
The xte biddis noyot coveyte.
Thez are the biddingis x,
Whoso will lelly layte.

Doctor 2
Behalde howe he alleggis oure layse,
And lered neuere on boke to rede;
Full subtill sawes methinketh he saies,
And also trewe, yf we take hede.

Doctor 3
Ya, late hym wende fourth on his wayes,
For and he dwelle, withouten drede,
The pepull schall full sone hym prayse
Wele more than vs for all oure dede.

Doctor 1
Nay, nay, than wer we wrang,
Such speking wille we spare.
Als he come late hym gang,
And move vs nowe no more.

Mary
A, dere Joseph, what is youre rede?
Of oure grete bale no bote may be,
Myne harte is heuy as any lede
My semely sone tille hym I see.
Nowe haue we sought in ilke a stede
Bothe vppe and doune ther dayes thre,
And whedir that he be quyk or dede
Yitt wote we noght, so wo is me.

Joseph
Mysese had neuere man more,
But mournyng may not mende;
I rede forther we fare
Till God som socoure sende.
Aboute yoone tempill if he be ought
I wolde we wiste this ilke nyght.

Mary
A, sir, I see that we haue sought,
In worlde was neuere so semely a sight.
Lo where he sittis, se yoe hym noght
Emong yoone maistiris mekill of myght?

Joseph
Now blist be he vs hedir brought,
For in lande was neuere non so light.

Mary
A, dere Joseph, als we haue cele,
Go furthe and fette youre sone and myne.
This daye is done nere ilke a dele
And we haue nede for to gang hyne.

Joseph
With men of myght can I not mell,
Than all my trauayle mon I tyne;
I can noyot with them, this wate thou wele,
They are so gay in furres fyne.

Mary
To tham youre herand for to say
Suthly yoe thar noyot drede no dele,
They will take rewarde to you allway
Because of elde, this wate yoe wele.

Joseph
When I come there what schall I saye?
I wate neuere, als haue I cele.
Sertis Marie, thou will haue me schamed for ay,
For I can nowthir croke nor knele.

Mary
Go we togedir, I halde it beste,
Vnto yoone worthy wysse in wede;
And yf I see-als haue I reste-
That yoe will noyot than bus me nede.

Joseph
Gange on Marie, and telle thy tale firste,
Thy sone to the will take goode heede.
Wende fourth Marie, and do thy beste,
I come behynde, als God me spede.

Mary
A, dere son Jesus,
Sen we loue the allone,
Why dosse thou thus till vs
And gares vs make swilke mone?
Thy fadir and I betwyxte vs twa,
Son, for thy loue has likid ill.
We haue the sought both to and froo,
Wepand full sore as wightis will.

Jesus
Wherto shulde yoe seke me soo?
Ofte tymes it hase ben tolde you till,
My fadir werkis, for wele or woo,
Thus am I sente for to fulfyll.

Mary
There sawes, als haue I cele,
Can I noyot vndirstande.
I schall thynke on tham wele
To fonde what is folowand.

Joseph
Now sothely sone, the sight of the
Hath salued vs of all oure sore.
Come furth sone, with thi modir and me,
Att Nazareth I wolde we wore.

Jesus
Beleves wele, lordis free,
For with my frendis nowe will I fare.

Doctor 1
Nowe sone, wher thou schall bide or be,
Gode make the gode man euermore.
No wondir if yoone wiffe
Of his fynding be full fayne,
He schall, and he haue liff,
Proue till a praty swayne.
But sone, loke that thou layne for gud or ill
The note that we haue nemed her nowe,
And if it like the to lende her stille
And wonne with vs, welcome art thowe.

Jesus
Graunte mercy sirs, of youre gode will,
No lenger liste me lende with yoou,
My frendis thoughtis I wol fulfille
And to ther bidding baynely bowe.

Mary
Full wele is vs this tyde,
Nowe maye we make goode chere.

Joseph
No lenger will we bide,
Fares wele all folke in feere.

John the Baptist
Almyghty God and lord verray,
Full woundyrfull is mannys lesyng,
For yf I preche tham day be day
And telle tham, lorde, of thy comyng,
That all has wrought,
Men are so dull that my preching
Serues of noght.
When I haue, lord, in the name of the
Baptiste the folke in watir clere,
Than haue I saide that aftir me
Shall he come that has more powere
Than I to taste;
He schall giffe baptyme more entire
In fire and gaste.
Thus am I comen in message right
And be fore-reyner in certayne,
In wittnesse-bering of that light,
The wiche schall light in ilka man
That is comand
Into this worlde; nowe whoso can
May vndirstande.
Thez folke had farly of my fare
And what I was full faste thei spied;
They askid yf I a prophette ware
And I saide nay, but sone I wreyede-
High aperte
I saide I was a voyce that cryede
Here in deserte.
Loke thou make the redy-ay saide I-
Vnto oure lord God most of myght,
That is that thou be clene haly
In worde, in werke ay redy dight
Agayns oure lord,
With parfite liffe that ilke a wight
Be well restored.
For if we be clene in levyng,
Oure bodis are Goddis tempyll than,
In the whilke he will make his dwellyng.
Therfore be clene, bothe wiffe and man,
This is my reed;
God will make in yowe haly than
His wonnyng-steed.
And if yoe sette all youre delyte
In luste and lykyng of this liff,
Than will he turne fro yow als tyte
Bycause of synne, boyth of man and wiffe,
And fro yoou flee,
For with whome that synne is riffe
Will God noght be.

Angel 1
Thou John, take tente what I schall saye,
I brynge the tythandis wondir gode:
My lorde Jesus schall come thys day
Fro Galylee vnto this flode
Ye Jourdane call,
Baptyme to take myldely with mode
This day he schall.
John, of his sande therfore be gladde
And thanke hym hartely, both lowde and still.

John the Baptist
I thanke hym euere, but I am radde
I am noyot abill to fullfill
This dede certayne.

Angel 2
John, the aught with harte and will
To be full bayne
To do his bidding, all bydene.
Bot in his baptyme John, take tente,
The heuenes schalle be oppen sene,
The holy gost schalle doune be sente
To se in sight,
The fadirs voyce with grete talent
Be herde full riyot,
That schall saie thus to hym forthy

John the Baptist
[…] with wordes fewne
I will be subgett nyght and day
As me well awe,
To serue my lord Jesus to paye
In dede and sawe.
Bot wele I wote, baptyme is tane
To wasshe and clense man of synne,
And wele I wotte that synne is none
In hym, withoute ne withinne.
What nedis hym than
For to be baptiste more or myne
Als synfull man?

Jesus
John, kynde of man is freele
To the whilke that I haue me knytte,
But I shall shewe the skyllis twa
That thou schallt knawe by kyndly witte
The cause why I haue ordand swa,
And ane is this:
Mankynde may noyot vnbaptymde go
Te endles blys.
And sithen myselffe haue taken mankynde,
For men schall me ther myrroure make
And haue my doyng in ther mynde,
Also I do the baptyme take.
I will forthy
Myselfe be baptiste for ther sake
Full oppynly.
Anodir skill I schall the tell:
My will is this, that fro this day
The vertue of my baptyme dwelle
In baptyme-watir euere and ay,
Mankynde to taste,
Thurgh my grace therto to take alway
The haly gaste.

John the Baptist
All-myghtfull lorde, grete is thi grace,
I thanke the of thi grete fordede.

Jesus
Cum, baptise me John, in this place.

John the Baptist
Lorde, saue thy grace that I forbede
That itt soo be,
For lorde, methynketh it wer more nede
Thou baptised me.
That place that I yarne moste of all,
Fro thens come thou lorde, as I gesse.
How schulde I than, that is a thrall,
Giffe the baptyme, that rightwis is
And has ben euere?
For thow arte roote of rightwissenesse,
That forfette neuere.
What riche man gose from dore to dore
To begge at hym that has right noght?
Lorde, thou arte riche and I am full poure,
Thou may blisse all, sen thou all wrought.
Fro heuen come all
That helpes in erthe, yf soth be sought,
Fro erthe but small.

Jesus
Thou sais full wele John, certaynly,
But suffre nowe for heuenly mede
That rightwisnesse be noyot oonlye
Fullfillid in worde but also in dede,
Thrughe baptyme clere.
Cum, baptise me in my manhed
Appertly here.
Fyrst schall I take, sen schall I preche,
For so behovis mankynde fulfille
All rightwissenesse, als werray leche.

John the Baptist
Lord, I am redy at thi will,
And will be ay
Thy subgett lord, both lowde and still,
In that I may.
A, lorde, I trymble ther I stande,
So am I arow to do that dede.
But saue me, lord that all ordand,
For the to touche haue I grete drede
For doyngs dark.
Now helpe me lorde, thurgh thi Godhede,
To do this werk.
Jesus, my lord of myghtis most,
I baptise the here in the name
Of the fadir and of the sone and holy gost;
But in this dede lorde, right no blame
This day by me,
And bryngis all thase to thy home
That trowes in the.

Jesus
John, for mannys prophyte-wit thou wele-
Take I this baptyme certaynely.
The dragons poure ilk a dele
Thurgh my baptyme distroyed haue I,
This is certayne,
And saued mankynde, saule and body,
Fro endles payne.
What man that trowis and baptised bes
Schall saued be and come to blisse.
Whoso trowes noyot, to payne endles
He schal be dampned sone, trowe wele this.
But wende we nowe
Wher most is nede the folke to wisse,
Both I and thou.

John the Baptist
I loue the, lorde, as souereyne leche
That come to salue men of thare sore,
As thou comaundis I schall gar preche
And lere to euery man that lare,
That are was thrall.
Now sirs, that barne that Marie bare
Be with yoou all.

Diabolus
Make rome belyve, and late me gang!
Who makis here all this thrang?
High you hense, high myght yoou hang
Right with a roppe.
I drede me that I dwelle to lang
To do a jape.
For sithen the firste tyme that I fell
For my pride fro heuen to hell,
Euere haue I mustered me emell
Emonge mannekynde,
How I in dole myght gar tham dwell
Ther to be pynde.
And certis, all that hath ben sithen borne
Has comen to me, mydday and morne,
And I haue ordayned so tham forne
None may thame fende,
That fro all likyng ar they lorne
Withowten ende.
And nowe sum men spekis of a swayne,
Howe he schall come and suffre payne
And with his dede to blisse agayne
Thei schulde be bought.
But certis this tale is but a trayne,
I trowe it noyot.
For I wotte ilke a dele bydene
Of the mytyng that men of mene,
How he has in grete barett bene
Sithen he was borne,
And suffered mekill traye and tene
Bothe even and morne.
And nowe it is brought so aboute
That lurdayne that thei loue and lowte
To wildirnesse he is wente owte,
Withowtyne moo;
To dere hym nowe haue I no doute,
Betwyxte vs two.
Before this tyme he has bene tent
That I myght gete hym with no glent,
But now sen he allone is wente
I schall assay,
And garre hym to sum synne assente
If that I may.
He has fastid-that marris his mode-
Ther fourty dayes withowten foode.
If he be man in bone and bloode
Hym hungris ill;
In glotonye than halde I gude
To witt his will.
For so it schall be knowen and kidde
If Godhed be in hym hidde,
If he will do as I hym bidde
Whanne I come nare.
Ther was neuere dede that euere he dide
That greued hym warre.
Thou witty man and wise of rede,
If thou can ought of Godhede
Byd nowe that ther stones be brede,
Betwyxte vs two;
Than may thei stande thyselfe in stede,
And othir moo.
For thou hast fastid longe I wene,
I wolde now som mete wer sene
For olde acqueyntaunce vs bytwene,
Thyselue wote howe.
Ther sall no man witte what I mene
But I and thou.

Jesus
My fadir, that all cytte may slake,
Honnoure eueremore to the I make
And gladly suffir I for thy sake
Swilk velany,
And thus temptacions for to take
Of myn enmy.
Thou weried wight, thi wittis are wode,
For wrytyn it is, whoso vndirstode,
A man lyvis noght in mayne and mode
With brede allone,
But Goddis wordis are gostly fode
To men ilkone.
Iff I haue fastid oute of skill,
Wytte thou me hungris not so ill
That I ne will wirke my fadirs will
In all degré;
Thi biddyng will I noyot fullfill,
That warne I the.

Diabolus
A, slyke carping neuere I kende,
Hym hungres noyot, as I wende.
Nowe sen thy fadir may the fende
Be sotell sleghte,
Late se yf thou allone may lende
Ther vppon heghte,
Vppon the pynakill parfitely.
Aha, nowe go we wele therby;
I schall assaye in vayne-glorie
To garre hym falle,
And if he be Goddis sone myghty,
Witte I schall.
Nowe liste to me a litill space:
If thou be Goddis sone, full of grace,
Shew som poynte here in this place
To proue thi might.
Late se, falle doune vppon thi face
Here in my sight.
For it is wretyn, as wele is kende,
How God schall aungellis to the sende,
And they schall kepe the in ther hende
Wherso thou gose,
That thou schall on no stones descende
To hurte thi tose.
And sen thou may withouten wathe
Fall and do thyselffe no skathe,
Tumbill downe to ease vs bathe
Here to my fete;
And but thou do I will be wrothe,
That I the hette.

Jesus
Late be, warlowe, thy wordis kene,
For wryten it is, withouten wene,
Thy God thou schall not tempte with tene
Nor with discorde,
Ne quarell schall thou none mayntene
Agaynste thi lorde.
And therfore trowe thou, withouten trayne,
That all thi gaudes schall nothyng gayne;
Be subgette to thi souereyne
Arely and late.

Diabolus
What, this trauayle is in vayne
Be ought I watte.
He proues that he is mekill of price,
Therfore it is goode I me avise,
And sen I may noyot on this wise
Make hym my thrall,
I will assaye in couetise
To garre hym fall,
For certis I schall noyot leue hym yoitt.
Who is my souereyne, this wolde I witte?
Myselffe ordande the thore to sitte,
This wote thou wele,
And right euen as I ordande itt
Is done ilke dele.
Than may thou se sen itt is soo
That I am souerayne of vs two,
And yoitt I graunte the or I goo
Withouten fayle,
That if thou woll assente me too
It schall avayle.
For I haue all this worlde to welde,
Toure and toune, forest and felde;
If thou thyn herte will to me helde
With wordis hende,
Yitt will I baynly be thy belde
And faithfull frende.
Behalde now ser, and thou schalt see
Sere kyngdomes and sere contré;
Alle this wile I giffe to the
For euermore,
And thou fall and honour me
As I saide are.