The Armourers' Play: The Expulsion

Alle creatures to me take tent,1
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;7
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,13
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;19
Fro God of heuen vnto yow twa
Sente am I nowe,
For to warne you what-kynne wa
Is wrought for you.
For vs is wrought, so welaway,24
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.
Adam, thyselffe made al this syte,30
For to the tree thou wente full tyte
And boldely on the frute gan byte
My lord forbed.
Yaa, allas, my wiffe that may I wite,34
For scho me red.
Adam, for thou trowyd hir tale,36
He sendis the worde and sais thou shale
Lyffe ay in sorowe,
Abide and be in bittir bale
Tille he the borowe.
Allas, wrecchis, what haue we wrought?41
To byggly blys we bothe wer brought;
Whillis we wer thare
We hadde inowe, nowe haue we noghte-
Allas, for care.
Oure cares ar comen bothe kyne and colde,46
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.
That while yee wrought vnwittely,52
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,58
And tille withalle thi meete and drynke
For euermore.
Allas, for syte why ne myght Y synke,61
So shames me sore.
Soore may we shame with sorowes seere,63
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.
Giffe for thou beswyked hym swa,69
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.
Allas for doole, what shall Y doo,75
Now mon I neuer haue rest ne roo.
Nay, lo, swilke a tole is taken me too77
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 hadde83
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 plenté89
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 fayne95
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 wrange101
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 wys107
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 tree113
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,119
This wele I see.
Was neuere wrecchis so wylle of wane
As nowe ar wee.
We are fulle wele worthy iwis123
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.
To see it is a sytfull syghte,129
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.
Sethyn it was so me knyth it sore,135
Bot sethyn that woman witteles ware
Mans maistrie shulde haue bene more
Agayns the gilte.
Nay, at my speche wolde thou never spare,139
That has vs spilte.
Iff I hadde spoken youe oughte to spill141
Ye shulde haue taken gode tent theretyll,
And turnyd my thought.
Do way, woman, and neme it noght,144
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.150
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.
Be stille Adam, and nemen it na mare,155
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.
On grounde mon I never gladde gange,161
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,167
Whare-som we wende.

2018 Nov 25  22:07:40