Alfred W. (Alfred William) Pollard.

English miracle plays, moralities, and interludes : specimens of the pre-Elizabethan drama online

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To fulfill his byddinge.

SECUNDUS ANGELLUS. And for hys byddinge thou dose aye,
And spareste nether for feare nor fraye, 430

To doe thy sonne to death to daie,

Isake, to thee full deare :
Therfore, God hathe sent by me, in faye !


A lambe, that is bouth good and gaye,
Into this place as thou se may, 435

Lo, have hym righte here.

ABRAHAM. Ah ! Lorde of heaven, and kinge of blesse,
Thy byddinge shalbedone, i-wysse !
Sacrafice here sente me is,

And all, Lorde, through thy grace. 440

A horned weither here I see,
Amonge the breyers tyed is he,
To thee offred shall he be

Anon righte in this place.

Then let Abraham take the lambe and kille hym, and let
God saie :

GOD. Abraham, by my selfe I sweare, 445

For thou haste bene obediente ever,
And spared not thy sonne to teare,

To fulfill my byddinge,
Thou shalbe blessed, that pleased me,
Thy seed I shall so multiplie, 450

As starres and sande so manye het I,

Of thy bodye cominge.
Of enemyes thou shalte have power,
And thy bloode also in feare,
Thou haste bene meke and bonere, 455

To do as I thee bade;
And of all nacions, leve thou me,
Blessed ever more shall thou be,
Through frute that shall come of thee,

And saved be through thy seede. 460

EXPOSITOR. Lordinges, this significacioun
Of this deed of devocion,
And you will, you witten mone,
Maye torne you to moche good


This deed you see done here in this place, 465

In example of Jesu done it was,
That for to wynne mankindes grace

Was sacrifised on the roode.
By Abraham, I maie understande
The father of heaven that can fand 470

With his sonnes bloode to breake that bande.

That the devill had broughte us to.
By Isaake understande I maie
Jesu, that was obedient aye,
His fathers will to worke alwaie, 475

And death for to confounde.

Here let the docter knele downe, and saie

Such obedience grante us, O Lorde !
Ever to thy moste holye worde,
That in the same we maie accorde

As this Abraham was bayne ; 480

And then al togaither shall we
That worthy kinge in heaven see,
And dwell with hym in greate glorye

For ever and ever, amen.

Here the messinger maketh an ende.

Make rombe, lordinges, and geve us waye, 485

And let Balacke come in and plaie,
And Balame that well can saie

To tell you of prophescie.
That Lorde that died on Good Frydaie,
He save you all bouth nighte and daie ! 490

Fare well, my lordinges ; I goe my waie,

I maye no longer abyde.

Finis. Deo gratias ! per me, Georgi Bellin, 1592.
Come, Lorde Jesu, come quicklye. Anno 1592.




PRIMUS PASTOR. Lord, what these weders ar cold, and

I am ylle happyd;

I am nere hande dold, so long have I nappyd ;
My legys thay fold, my fyngers ar chappyd,
It is not as I wold, for I am al lappyd

In sorow. 5

In stormes and tempest,
Now in the eest, now in the west,
Wo is hym has never rest

Myd day nor morow.

Bot we sely shepardes, that walkys on the moore,
In fayth we are nere handes outt of the doore ; 10
No wonder, as it standys, if we be poore,
For the tylthe of oure landes lyys falow as the floore,

As ye ken.

We ar so hamyd, 15

For-taxed and ramyd,
We ar mayde hand tamyd,

Withe these gentlery men.

Thus they refe us oure rest, Oure Lady theym wary,
These men that ar lord fest thay cause the ploghe
tary. 20

That men say is for the best we fynde it contrary,
Thus ar husbandes opprest, in point to myscary,

On lyfe.


Thus hold thay us hunder,

Thus thay bryng us in blonder, 25

It were greatte wonder,

And ever shuld we thryfe.
For may he gett a paynt slefe or a broche now on


Wo is hym that hym grefe, or onys agane says,
Dar no man hym reprefe, what mastry he mays, 30
And yit may no man lefe oone word that he says

No letter.

He can make purveance,
With boste and bragance,
And alle is thrughe mantenance 35

Of men that are gretter.

Ther shalle com a swane as prowde as a po,
He must borow my wane, my ploghe also,
Then I am fulle fane to graunt or he go.
Thus lyf we in payne, anger, and wo, 40

By nyght and day ;
He must have, if he langyd;
If I shuld forgang it,
I were better be hangyd

Then oones say hym nay. 45

It dos me good, as I walk thus by myn oone
Of this warld for to talk in maner of mone.
To my shepe wylle I stalk and herkyn anone,
Ther abyde on a balk or sytt on a stone

Full soyne. 50

For I trowe, parde,
Trew men if thay be,
We gett more compane

Or it be noyne.

\The second and third shepherd arrive, each with his com-
plaint. To cheer themselves they sing a catch, and are


then joined by MAK a neighbour of ill repute for thievery.
After some talk they all betake them to sleep, the shepherds
making MAK lie down between them so as to keep him
under guard. Despite this precaution his thoughts are
set on sheep stealing: he rises, while the shepherds sleep,
and says .]

MAK. Now were tyme for a man, that lakkys what he
wold, 280

To stalk prively than unto a fold,
And neemly to wyrk than, and be not to bold,
For he myght aby the bargan, if it were told

At the endyng.

Now were tyme for to reylle ; 285

Bot he nedes good counselle
That fayn wold fare weylle,

And has bot lytylle spendyng.
Bot abowte you a serkylle, as rownde as a moyn,
To I have done that I wylle, tylle that it be noyn,
That ye lyg stone stylle, to that I have doyne, 291
And I shall say thertylle of good wordes a foyne.

On hight

Over youre heydes my hand I lyft,
Outt go youre een, fordo your syght, 295

Bot yit I must make better shyft,

And it be right.

Lord, what thay slepe harde, that may ye alle here,
Was I never a shepard, bot now wylle I lere.
If the flok be skard, yit shalle I nyp nere. 300

How drawes hederward : now mendes oure chere

Fro sorow.

A fatt shepe I dar say,
A good flese dar I lay,
Eft-whyte when I may, 305

Bot this wille I borow.


\He steals the sheep and goes home with if.]

How, Gylle, art thou in? Gett us som lyght.

UXOR Ejus. Who makys sich dyn this tyme of the nyght ?
I am sett for to spyn : I hope not I myght
Ryse a penny to wyn : I shrew them on hight. 310

So farys

A huswyff that has bene
To be rasyd thus betwene :
There may no note be sene

For sich smalle charys. 315

MAK. Good wyff, open the hek. Seys thou not what I
bryng ?

UXOR. I may thole the dray the snek. A, com in, my

MAK. Yee, thou thar not rek of my long standing.
UXOR. By the nakyd nek art thou lyke for to hyng.

MAK. Do way : 320

I am worthy my mete,

For in a strate can I gett

More then thay that swynke and swette
All the long day.

Thus it felle to my lotte, Gylle, I had sich grace. 325
UXOR. It were a fowlle blot to be hanged for the case.
MAK. I have scaped, Jelott, oft as hard a glase.

UXOR. Bot so long goys the pott to the water, men says,

At last
Comys it home broken. 330

MAK. Welle knowe I the token,
Bot let it never be spoken ;

Bot com and help fast.
I would he were flayn ; I lyst welle ete :
This twelmothe was I not so fayn of oone shepe mete.


UXOR. Com thay or he be slayn, and here the shepe

blete 336

MAK. Then myght I be tane : that were a colde swette.

Go spar

The gaytt doore.
UXOR. Yis, Mak,

For and thay com at thy bak 340

MAK. Then myght I by far alle the pak

The dewille of the war.

UXOR. A good bowrde have I spied, syn thou can none,
Here shall we hym hyde, to thay be gone ;
In my credylle abyde. Lett me alone, 345

And I shalle lyg besyde in chylbed and grone.
MAK. Thou red;

And I shalle say thou was lyght
Of a knave childe this nyght.
UXOR. Now welle is me day bright, 350

That ever I was bred.
This is a good gyse and a far cast ;
Yit a woman avyse helpys at the last !
I wote never who spyse : agane go thou fast.
MAK. Bot I com or thay ryse, els blawes a cold blast. 355

I wylle go slepe.
Yit slepys alle this meneye
And I shall go stalk prevely,
As if it had never bene I

That caryed thare shepe. 360

[Afax resumes his place between the shepherds. They awake

and go to look after their flocks, while Mak returns

home. A sheep is missed, and Mak, despite his precautions,

is suspected of the theft. They go to his house and arouse

him. Bidding them tread softly, he offers them drink :\

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Nay, nawther mendys oure mode

drynke nor mete.

D 2


MAK. Why, sir, alys you oght hot goode ? 515

TERCIUS PASTOR. Yes, oure shepe that we gett
Ar stollyn as thay yode. Oure los is grette.

MAK. Syrs, drynkes !
Had I bene thore,
Some shuld have boght it fulle sore. 520

PRIMUS PASTOR. Mary, som men trowes that ye wore,
And that us forthynkes.

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Mak, som men trowes that it shuld
be ye.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Ayther ye or youre spouse ; so say we.

MAK. Now if ye have suspowse to Gille or to me, 525
Come and rype oure howse, and then may ye se

Who had hir.
If I any shepe fott,
Aythor cow or stott
And Gylle, my wyfe, rose nott 530

Here syn she lade hir.

As I am true and lele, to God here I pray,
That this be the fyrst mele that I shalle ete this day.

[ The shepherds search the house, Gyll upbraiding them and
keeping them away from the cradle. They find nothing
and take their leave, rather ashamedly. As they go a
thought strikes one of them .]

PRIMUS PASTOR. Gaf ye the chyld any thyng ?
SECUNDUS PASTOR. I trow not oone farthyng.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Fast agayne wille I flyng,

Abyde ye me there. 585

Mak, take it no grefe, if I com to thi barne.
MAK. Nay, thou does me greatt reprefe, and fowlle has
thou fame.


TERCIUS PASTOR. The child wille it not grefe, that

lytylle day starne.
Mak, with youre lefe, let me gyf youre barne,

Bot vj pence. 590

MAK. Nay, do way : he slepys.
TERCIUS PASTOR. Me thynk he pepys.
MAK. When he wakyns he wepys.

I pray you go hence.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Gyf me lefe hym to kys, and lyft up

the clowtt. 595

What the dewille is this? he has a long snowte

PRIMUS PASTOR. He is markyd amys. We wate ill abowte.

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Ille spon weft, i-wis, ay commys foulle

Ay so?

He is lyke to cure shepe. 600

TERCIUS PASTOR. How, Gyb ! May I pepe ?
PRIMUS PASTOR. I trow, kynde wille crepe

Where it may not go.
SECUNDUS PASTOR. This was a qwantte gawde and a far cast.

It was a hee frawde.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Yee, sirs, wast. 605

Lett bren this bawde and bynd hir fast.
A ! fals skawde, hang at the last ;

So shalle thou.

Wylle ye se how thay swedylle
His foure feytt in the medylle? 610

Sagh I never in a credylle

A hornyd lad or now.
MAK. Peasse byd I : what ! lett be youre fare ;

I am he that hym gatt, and yond woman hym bare.

PRIMUS PASTOR. What dewille shall he hatt? Mak, lo

God, Mak's ayre! 615


SECUNDUS PASTOR. Let be alle that. Now God gyf hym

I sagh.
UXOR. A pratty child is he

As syttes on a woman's kne ;

A dylly downe, perde. 620

To gar a man laghe.
TERCIUS PASTOR. I know hym by the eere marke : that is

a good tokyn.

MAK. I telle you, syrs, hark : hys noys was broken.
Sythen told me a clerk, that he was forspokyn.
PRIMUS PASTOR. This is a false wark. I wold fayn be
wrokyn. 625

Gett wepyn.

UXOR. He was takyn with an elfe ;
I saw it myself.
When the clok stroke twelf

Was he forshapyn. 630

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Ye two ar welle feft, sam in a stede.
TERCIUS PASTOR. Syn thay manteyn thare theft, let do

thaym to dede.
MAK. If I trespas eft, gyrd of my heede.

With you wille I be left.
PRIMUS PASTOR. Syrs, do my reede. 635

For this trespas,
We wille nawther ban ne flyte,
Fyght nor chyte,
Bot have done as tyte,

And cast hym in canvas.

Lord, what I am sore, in poynt for to bryst. 640
In fayth I may no more, therfor wylle I ryst.
SECUNDUS PASTOR. As a shepe of vij skore he weyd in

my fyst.
For to slepe ay whore, me thynk that I lyst.


TERCIUS PASTOR. Now I pray you,

Lyg downe on this grene. 645

PRIMUS PASTOR. On these theftes yit I mene.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Wherto shuld ye tene?
Do, as I say you.

Angelus cantat ''Gloria in Excelsis* : posted dicat,

ANGELUS. Ryse, hyrdmen heynd, for now is he borne,
That shall take fro the feynd that Adam had lorne : 650
That warloo to sheynd, this nyght is he borne,
God is made youre freynd : now at this morne

He behestys,
At Bedlem go se,

Ther lyges that fre 655

In a cryb fulle poorely,
Betwyx two bestys.

PRIMUS PASTOR. This was a qwant stevyn that ever yet

I hard.
It is a marvelle to nevyn thus to be skard.

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Of Codes son of hevyn he spak up
ward. 660

Alle the wod on a levyn me thoght that he gard

TERCIUS PASTOR. He spak of a barne
In Bedlem, I you warne.

PRIMUS PASTOR. That betokyns yonder starne 665

Let us seke hym there.

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Say, what was his song? hard ye

not how he crakyd it?
Thre brefes to a long.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Yee, mary, he haktitt.

Was no crochett wrong, nor no thyng that lakt it.


PRIMUS PASTOR. For to syng us emong, right as he
knakt it, 670

I can.

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Let se how ye croyne.
Can ye bark at the mone?

TERCIUS PASTOR. Hold youre tonges, have done.
PRIMUS PASTOR. Hark after, than. 675

SECUNDUS PASTOR. To Bedlem he bad that we shuld gang :
I am full fard that we tary to lang.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Be mery, and not sad : of myrth is

oure sang,
Ever lastyng glad to mede may we fang,

Withott noyse. 680

PRIMUS PASTOR. Hy we theder for-thy;
If we be wete and wery,
To that chyld and that lady
We have it not to slose.

.SECUNDUS PASTOR. We fynde by the prophecy let be
youre dyn 685

Of David and Isay, and mo then I myn;
Thay prophecyed by clergy, that in a vyrgyn
Shuld he lyght and ly, to slokyn oure syn

And slake it,

Oure kynde from wo; 690

For Isay sayd so,
Cite virgo

Concipiet a child that is nakyd.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Fulle glad may we be, and abyde

that day

That lufly to se, that alle myghtes may. 695

Lord welle were me, for ones and for ay,
Might I knele on my kne som word for to say
To that chylde.


Bot the angelle sayd

In a cryb was he layde; 700

He was poorly arayd,
Both mener and mylde.

PRIMUS PASTOR. Patriarkes that has bene, and prophetes


Thay desyrd to have sene this chylde that is borne.
Thay ar gone fulle clene, that have thay lorne. 705
We shalle se hym, I weyn, or it be morne

To tokyn.

When I see hym and fele,
Then wote I fulle weylle
It is true as steylle 710

That prophetes have spokyn
To so poore as we ar, that he wold appere,
Fyrst fynd, and declare by his messyngere.

SECUNDUS PASTOR. Go we now, lett us fare: the place

is us nere.
TERCIUS PASTOR. I am redy and yare : go we in fere

To that bright. 716

Lord, if thi wylles be,
We are lewd alle thre,
Thou grauntt us somkyns gle

To comforth thi wight. 720

PRIMUS PASTOR. Haylle comly and clene : haylle yong

child !

Haylle maker, as I mene, of a madyn so mylde.
Thou has waryd, I weyne, the warlo so wylde,
The fals gyler of teyn, now goys he begylde.

Lo, he merys; 725

Lo, he laghys, my swetyng,
A welfare metyng,
I have holden my hetyng,
Have a bob of cherys.


SECUNDUS PASTOR. Haylle, sufferan savyoure, for thou

has us soght : 730

Haylle frely foyde and floure, that alle thyng has


Haylle fulle of favoure, that made alle of noght !
Haylle ! I kneylle and I cowre. A byrd have I broght

To my barne.

Haylle lytylle tine mop, 735

Of cure crede thou art crop :
I wold drynk on thy cop,
Lytylle day starne.

TERCIUS PASTOR. Haylle, derlyng dere, fulle of godhede,
I pray the be nere when that I have nede. 740

Haylle ! swete is thy chere : my hart wold blede
To se the sytt here in so poore wede

With no pennys.
Haylle, put furthe thy dalle,

I bryng the bot a balle : 745

Have and play the with alle,
And go to the tenys.

MARIA. The fader of heven, God omnypotent,
That sett alle on seven, his son has he sent.
My name couthe he neven and lyght or he went. 750
I conceyved hym fulle even, thrugh myght as he ment ;

And new is he borne.
He kepe you fro wo :
I shalle pray him so;
Telle furth as ye go, 755

And myn on this morne.

PRIMUS PASTOR. Farewelle, lady, so fare to beholde,
With thy chylde on thi kne.

SECUNDUS PASTOR. But he lyges fulle cold.

Lord, welle is me : now we go, thou behold.


TERCIUS PASTOR. For sothe alle redy, it semys to be told
Fulle oft. 761

PRIMUS PASTOR. What grace we have fun.
SECUNDUS PASTOR. Com furthe, now as we won.

TERTIUS PASTOR. To syng ar we bun :

Let take on loft. 765

Explicit pagina pastorum.


CONTEMPLACIO. Ffowre thowsand sex undryd foure jyere
I telle,

Man ffor his offens and ffowle foly,
Hath loyn jyeres in the peynes of helle,

And were wurthy to ly therin endlesly. 4

But thanne xulde perysche jyour grete mercye,

Good Lord, have on man pyte,
Have mende of the prayour seyd by Ysaie,

Lete mercy meke thin hyest mageste*. 8

Wolde God thou woldyst breke thin hefne myghtye,

And com down here into erthe ;
And levyn jyeres thre and threttye,

Thyn famyt ffolke with thi fode to fede. 12

To staunche thi thryste lete thi syde blede,

Ffor erst wole not be mad redempcion.
Cum vesite us in this tyme of nede,

Of thi careful creatures, Lord, have compassyon ! 1 6

A ! woo to us wrecchis that wrecchis be,

Ffor God hath addyd ssorwe to sorwe;
I prey the, Lorde, thi sowles com se,

How thei ly and sobbe, both eve and morewe, 20

With thi blyssyd blood ffrom balys 1 hem borwe,

Thy careful creaturys cryenge in captyvyte",

1 babys, MS.


A ! tary not, gracyous Lord, tyl it be to-morwe,

The devyl hath dysceyved hem be his iniquite*. 24

A ! quod Jeremye, who xal gyff wellys to myn eynes,

That I may wepe bothe day and nyght ?
To se oure bretheryn in so longe peynes,

Here myschevys amende may thi meche myght, 28
As grett as the se, Lord, was Adamys contryssyon ryght,

Ffrom oure hed is ffalle the crowne,
Man is comeryd in synne, I crye to thi syght,

Gracyous Lord ! Gracyous Lord ! Gracyous Lord, come
downe ! 32

VIRTUTES. Lord ! plesyth it thin \i\gh domynacion,

On man that thou made to have pyte,
Patryarchys and prophetys han mad supplycacion,

Oure offyse is to presente here prayeres to the. 36
Aungelys, archaungelys, we thre

That ben in the fyrst ierarchie,
Ffor man to thin hy mageste*,

Mercy ! mercy ! mercy ! we crye. 40

The aungel, Lord, thou made so gloryous,

Whos synne hath mad hym a devyl in helle,
He mevyd man to be so contraryous,

Man repentyd, and he in his obstynacye doth dwelle.
Hese grete males, good Lord, repelle, 45

And take man onto thi grace,
Lete thi mercy make hym with aungelys dwelle,

Of Locyfere to restore the place. 48

PATER. Propter miseriam inopum, et gemitum pauperum
nunc exurgam.

Ffor the wretchydnes of the nedy,

And the porys lamentacion,
Now xal I ryse that am Almyghty,

Tyme is come of reconsyliacion, 52


My prophetys with prayers have made supplicacion,

My contryte creaturys crye alle for comforte,
Alle myn aungellys in hefne, withowte cessacion,

They crye that grace to man myght exorte. 56

VERITAS. Lord, I am thi dowtere, Trewthe,

Thou wilt se I be not lore,
Thyn unkynde creatures to save were rewthe,

The offens of man hath grevyd the sore. 60

Whan Adam had synnyd, thou seydest yore,

That he xulde deye and go to helle,
And now to blysse hym to restore,

Twey contraryes mow not togedyr dwelle. 64

Thy trewthe, Lord, xal leste withowtyn ende,

I may in no wyse ffro the go,
That wrecche that was to the so unkende,

He may not have to meche wo. 68

He dyspysyd the and plesyd thi ffo,

Thou art his creatour and he is thi creature,
Thou hast lovyd trewthe, it is seyd evyr mo,

Therfore in peynes lete hym evyrmore endure. 72

MISERICORDIA. O ffadyr of mercye and God of comforte,

That counselle us in eche trybulacion,
Lete jour dowtere Mercy to jow resorte,

And on man that is myschevyd have compassyon. 76
Hym grevyth fful gretly his transgressyon,

Alle hefne and erthe crye ffor mercy,
Me semyth ther xuld be non excepcion,

Ther prayers ben offeryd so specyally. 80

Threwthe sseyth she hath evyr be than,

I graunt it wel she hath be so,
And thou seyst endlesly that mercy thou hast kept ffor man,

Than mercyabyl lorde, kepe us bothe to, 84

Thu seyst veritas mea et misericordia mea cum ipso,

Suffyr not thi sowlys than in sorwe to slepe,


That helle hownde that hatyth the byddyth hym ho,
Thi love, man, no lengere lete hym kepe. 88

JUSTICIA. Mercy, me merveylyth what jow movyth,

Ye know wel I am jour sister Ryghtwysnes,
God is ryghtfful and ryghtffulnes lovyth,

Man offendyd hym that is endles, 92

Therefore his endles punchement may nevyr sees ;

Also he forsoke his makere that made hym of clay,
And the devyl to his mayster he ches,

Xulde he be savyd ? nay ! nay ! nay ! 96

As wyse as is God he wolde a be,

This was the abhomynabyl presumpcion,
It is seyd, ye know wel this of me,

That the ryghtwysnes of God hath no diffynicion. 100
Therffore late this be oure conclusyon,

He that sore synnyd ly stylle in sorwe,
He may nevyr make a seyth be resone,

Whoo myght thanne thens hym borwe? 104

MISERICORDIA. Syster Ryghtwysnes, ye are to vengeabyl,

Endles synne God endles may restore,
Above alle hese werkys God is mercyabyl,

Thow he forsook God he synne, be feyth he forsook
hym never the more. 108

And thow he presumyd nevyr so sore,

Ye must consyder the frelnes of mankende,
Lerne and ye lyst, this is Goddys lore,

The mercy of God is withowtyn ende. 112

PAX. To spare jour speches, systeres, it syt,
It is not onest in vertuys to ben dyscencion,

The pes of God ovyrcomyth alle wytt,

Thow Trewthe and Ryght sey grett reson. 116

Yett Mercy seyth best to my pleson,
Ffor yf mannys sowle xulde abyde in helle,


Betwen God and man evyr xulde be dyvysyon,

And than myght not I Pes dwelle. 120

Therefore me semyth best ye. thus acorde ;

Than hefne and erthe ye xul qweme,
Putt bothe jour sentens in oure Lorde,

And in his hygh wysdam lete hym deme. 124

This is most syttynge me xulde seme,

And lete se how we ffowre may alle abyde,
That mannys sowle it xulde perysche it wore sweme,

Or that ony of us ffro othere xulde dyvyde. 128

VERITAS. In trowthe hereto I consente,
I wole prey oure lorde it may so be.

JUSTICIA. I Ryghtwysnes am wele contente,

Ffor in hym is very equyte. 132

MISERICORDIA. And I Mercy ffro this counsel wole not fle,
Tyl wysdam hath seyd I xal ses.

PAX. Here is God now, here is unyte,
Hefne and erthe is plesyd with Pes.

[11. 1-48. Tiberius Caesar denounces all who murmur against his gods.]

Her entyr Syrus, the fader of Mary Maudleyn.

SYRUS. Emperor and kyngges and conquerors kene,
Erlys, and borons, and knytes that byn bold,
Berdes in my bovver, so semely to sene,
I commaund yow at onys my hestes to hold. 52

Behold my person, glysteryng in gold,
Semely besyn of all other men :
Cyrus is my name, be clefTys so cold,
I command you all obedyent to beyn ; 56

Wo-so woll nat, in bale I hem bryng, 57

And knett swyche caytyfys in knottes of care.
Thys castell of Maudleyn is at my wylddyng,
With all the centre, bothe lesse and more, 60

And Lord of Jerusalem, who agens me don dare ?
Alle Beteny at my beddyng be;
I am sett in solas from al syyng sore,
And so xall all my posteryte,

Thus for to leven in rest and ryalte, 65

I have her a sone that is to me ful trew, 66

No comlyar creatur of Goddes creacyon,
To amyabyll douctors, full brygth of ble,
Ful gloryos to my syth an ful of delectacyon.
Lazarus my son, in my respeccyon. 70

Here is Mary, ful fayr and ful of femynyte,
And Martha, ful [of] beute and of delycyte
Ful of womanly merrorys and of benygnyte,


They have fulfyllyd my hart with consolacyon. 74

******* *

Now Lazarus, my sonne, whech art ther brothyr, 79

The lordshep of Jerusalem I gyff the after my dysses,

And Mary thys castell, alonly, an non othyr ;

And Martha xall have Beteny, I sey exprese :

Thes gyftes I graunt yow withowtyn les, 83

Whyll that I am in good mynd. 84

LAZARUS. Most reverent father ! I thank yow hartely 85
Of yower grett kyndnes shuyd onto me !
Ye have grauntyd swych a lyfelod, worthy
Me to restreyn from all nessesyte. 88

Now, good lord, and hys wyll it be,
Graunt me grace to lyve to thy plesowans,
And a-gens hem so to rewle me
Thatt we may have joye withoutyn weryauns. gz

Online LibraryAlfred W. (Alfred William) PollardEnglish miracle plays, moralities, and interludes : specimens of the pre-Elizabethan drama → online text (page 7 of 26)