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[The Tale of the Bad Bourgeois who lay with his God-daughter and was kild for it.]
A man hefe onës at þe fonte
A maydë chylde, as men are wonte;
Þys mayde wax, and bygan to belde
weyl yn-to womans elde;
And at Ester tyme gan hyt falle
whan men hadde fastë lenten alle,
Þys man bysoghte, for specyalte,
Þat hys god-doȝtyr wyþ hym myȝt be,
And alle þat ychë Esterday
And lenger, ȝyf hyt were here pay.
A maydë chylde, as men are wonte;
Þys mayde wax, and bygan to belde
weyl yn-to womans elde;
And at Ester tyme gan hyt falle
whan men hadde fastë lenten alle,
Þys man bysoghte, for specyalte,
Þat hys god-doȝtyr wyþ hym myȝt be,
And alle þat ychë Esterday
And lenger, ȝyf hyt were here pay.
Þe fadyr and þe modyr graunted sone;
Þey þoȝt none euyl myȝt be done.
Þys man, for drunkenes & vnryȝt,
lay by hys god-doȝtyr þat yche nyȝt:
Þys man on þe mornë þoȝt
How synfully þat he hadde wroȝt;
Ful grete þoȝte þan was he ynne,
Þat he hadde do so greuus a synne;
Twey þoghtes yn hys hertë come,
To go to þe cherche, or byde at home:
“Ȝyf y vnto þe cherchë ȝede,
Of venïaunce y haue grete drede;
And, ȝyf y nat þedyr go,
Men wyl wene y haue do sum wo.”
So algate vnto þe cherche he name;
he drede nat God, but morë shame.
Þey þoȝt none euyl myȝt be done.
Þys man, for drunkenes & vnryȝt,
lay by hys god-doȝtyr þat yche nyȝt:
Þys man on þe mornë þoȝt
How synfully þat he hadde wroȝt;
Ful grete þoȝte þan was he ynne,
Þat he hadde do so greuus a synne;
Twey þoghtes yn hys hertë come,
To go to þe cherche, or byde at home:
“Ȝyf y vnto þe cherchë ȝede,
Of venïaunce y haue grete drede;
And, ȝyf y nat þedyr go,
Men wyl wene y haue do sum wo.”
So algate vnto þe cherche he name;
he drede nat God, but morë shame.
Þe fyrst day, he dred hym sore
he shuld be cumbred sumwore,
And ȝyt a-noþer he lokede ay,
whyche tyme þe fende wulde bere hym away;
Alle þe woke, for worldës shame,
He ȝede to þe cherche, but lytyl to frame;
he shuld be cumbred sumwore,
And ȝyt a-noþer he lokede ay,
whyche tyme þe fende wulde bere hym away;
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He ȝede to þe cherche, but lytyl to frame;
whan he hadde long a-bydë so,
And, no skaþe come hym to,
Þys þoght he yn hys herte ful raþe,
For he hadde þarfore no skaþe,
he wendë God had hyt forgete
As ouþer men do þat haue forlete;
Or þoȝt þat he hadde hyt forȝyue,
And hym neded nat þer-of be shryue,
Ne shulde þerof come no myschaunce,
For he was of so longe suffraunce.
And, no skaþe come hym to,
Þys þoght he yn hys herte ful raþe,
For he hadde þarfore no skaþe,
he wendë God had hyt forgete
As ouþer men do þat haue forlete;
Or þoȝt þat he hadde hyt forȝyue,
And hym neded nat þer-of be shryue,
Ne shulde þerof come no myschaunce,
For he was of so longe suffraunce.
But God, þat fórȝeteþ no þyng,
he sente þarfore grete heuenyng;
Þe seuenþe day þys man deyde,
As þe holy man vs seyde;
Sone aftyr þat byryed he was,
Veniaunce come for þat trespas;
Vpp of hys graue a fyre vpp smote—
Ful stynkyng and ful hote—
And brenned þat cursed body alle,
And stone and erþe, boþe grete and smalle;
Alle was so brend yn-to þe grounde,
Þat of hys body myȝt noȝt be founde.
he sente þarfore grete heuenyng;
Þe seuenþe day þys man deyde,
As þe holy man vs seyde;
Sone aftyr þat byryed he was,
Veniaunce come for þat trespas;
Vpp of hys graue a fyre vpp smote—
Ful stynkyng and ful hote—
And brenned þat cursed body alle,
And stone and erþe, boþe grete and smalle;
Alle was so brend yn-to þe grounde,
Þat of hys body myȝt noȝt be founde.
Here mow ȝe here apertly why
God toke veniaunce greuusly,
Þat God shewed so moche hys Ire,
For he synned þat tyme with hyre
Þat he lyfte of þe fonte stone:
hyt ys a warnyng to vs echone
þat we kepe þe sacrament,
Oure bapteme þat God haþ sent;
And þat we bettyr hyt holde
For þys tale þat y ȝow tolde.
Ȝe, Ihesu lordë, þou hyt graunte
þat we mow holdë þat cunnaunte
þat we at þe fonte stonë make,
Ihesu to serue, and Satanas forsake.
God toke veniaunce greuusly,
Þat God shewed so moche hys Ire,
For he synned þat tyme with hyre
Þat he lyfte of þe fonte stone:
hyt ys a warnyng to vs echone
þat we kepe þe sacrament,
Oure bapteme þat God haþ sent;
And þat we bettyr hyt holde
For þys tale þat y ȝow tolde.
Ȝe, Ihesu lordë, þou hyt graunte
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þat we at þe fonte stonë make,
Ihesu to serue, and Satanas forsake.
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