 | The Castell of Perseverance |  |
SCENE XXIII
VERITAS.Heyl, God almyth!
We cum, þi dowterys in syth,
Trewth, Mercy, and Ryth,
And Pes, pesyble in fyth.
MISERICORDIA.
We cum to preve
If Man, þat was þe ful leve,
If he schal cheve
To hell or heuene, be þi leve.
JUSTICIA.
I, Rytwysnes,
Þi dowtyr as I ges,
Late me, neuereþelesse,
At þi dom putte me in pres.
PAX.
Pesyble kynge,
I, Pes, þi dowtyr ȝynge,
Here my preyinge
Whanne I pray þe, Lord, of a thynge.
DEUS.
Welcum in fere,
Bryther þanne blossum on brere!
My dowterys dere,
Cum forth and stand ȝe me nere.
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Lord, as þou art Kyng of kyngys, crownyd wyth crowne,
As þou lovyste me, Trewthe, þi dowtyr dere,
Lete neuere me, Trewþe, to fall adowne,
My feythful Fadyr, saunz pere!
As þou lovyste me, Trewthe, þi dowtyr dere,
Lete neuere me, Trewþe, to fall adowne,
My feythful Fadyr, saunz pere!
Quoniam veritatem dilexisti.
For in all trewthe standyth þi renowne,
Þi feyth, þi hope, and þi powere,
Lete it be sene, Lord, now at þi dome,
Þat I may haue my trewe prayere
To do trewþe to Mankynd.
For if Mankynd be dempte be ryth
And not be mercy, most of myth,
Here my trewthe, Lord, I þe plyth,
In presun man schal be pynyd.
Þi feyth, þi hope, and þi powere,
Lete it be sene, Lord, now at þi dome,
Þat I may haue my trewe prayere
To do trewþe to Mankynd.
For if Mankynd be dempte be ryth
And not be mercy, most of myth,
Here my trewthe, Lord, I þe plyth,
In presun man schal be pynyd.
Lord, whov schuld Mankynd be savyd,
Syn he dyed in dedly synne
And all þi comaundementys he depravyd
And of fals covetyse he wolde neuere blynne?
Syn he dyed in dedly synne
And all þi comaundementys he depravyd
And of fals covetyse he wolde neuere blynne?
Aurum sitisti, aurum bibisti.
Þe more he hadde, þe more he cravyd,
Whyl þe lyf lefte hym wythinne.
But he be dampnyd I am abavyd
Þat Trewthe schuld com of rytwys kynne,
And I am þi dowtyr Trewþe.
Þou he cried mercy, moriendo,
Nimis tarde penitendo,
Talem mortem reprehendo.
Lete hym drynke as he brewyth!
Whyl þe lyf lefte hym wythinne.
But he be dampnyd I am abavyd
Þat Trewthe schuld com of rytwys kynne,
And I am þi dowtyr Trewþe.
Þou he cried mercy, moriendo,
Nimis tarde penitendo,
Talem mortem reprehendo.
Lete hym drynke as he brewyth!
Late repentaunce if man saue scholde,
Wheyþyr he wrouth wel or wyckydnesse,
Þanne euery man wold be bolde
To trespas in trost of forȝevenesse.
For synne in hope is dampnyd, I holde;
Forgevyn is neuere hys trespase.
He synnyth in þe Holy Gost manyfolde.
Þat synne, Lord, þou wylt not reles
In þis werld nor in þe toþyr.
Quia veritas manet in eternum,
Tendit homo ad infernum,
Nunquam venit ad supernum,
Þou he were my broþyr.
Wheyþyr he wrouth wel or wyckydnesse,
Þanne euery man wold be bolde
To trespas in trost of forȝevenesse.
For synne in hope is dampnyd, I holde;
Forgevyn is neuere hys trespase.
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Þat synne, Lord, þou wylt not reles
In þis werld nor in þe toþyr.
Quia veritas manet in eternum,
Tendit homo ad infernum,
Nunquam venit ad supernum,
Þou he were my broþyr.
For man on molde halt welthe and wele,
Lust and lykynge in al hys lyfe,
Techynge, prechynge, in euery sele,
But he forgetyth þe Lord belyve.
Hye of hert, happe and hele,
Gold and syluyr, chyld and wyf,
Denteth drynke at mete and mele,
Vnnethe þe to þanke he can not kyth
In any maner thynge.
Whanne mans welþe gynnyth awake
Ful sone, Lord, þou art forsake.
As he hathe browne and bake,
Trewthe wyl þat he drynke.
Lust and lykynge in al hys lyfe,
Techynge, prechynge, in euery sele,
But he forgetyth þe Lord belyve.
Hye of hert, happe and hele,
Gold and syluyr, chyld and wyf,
Denteth drynke at mete and mele,
Vnnethe þe to þanke he can not kyth
In any maner thynge.
Whanne mans welþe gynnyth awake
Ful sone, Lord, þou art forsake.
As he hathe browne and bake,
Trewthe wyl þat he drynke.
For if Man haue mercy and grace
Þanne I, þi dowtyr Sothfastnesse,
At þi dom schal haue no place
But be putte abak be wronge dures.
Lord, lete me neuere fle þi fayr face
To make my power any lesse!
I pray þe, Lord, as I haue space,
Late Mankynd haue dew dystresse
In helle fere to be brent.
In peyne loke he be stylle,
Lord, if it be þi wylle,
Or ell I haue no skylle
Be þi trew jugement.
Þanne I, þi dowtyr Sothfastnesse,
At þi dom schal haue no place
But be putte abak be wronge dures.
Lord, lete me neuere fle þi fayr face
To make my power any lesse!
I pray þe, Lord, as I haue space,
Late Mankynd haue dew dystresse
In helle fere to be brent.
In peyne loke he be stylle,
Lord, if it be þi wylle,
Or ell I haue no skylle
Be þi trew jugement.
MISERICORDIA.
O Pater misericordiarum et Deus tocius consolacionis,
qui consolatur nos in omni tribulacione nostra!
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O þou Fadyr, of mytys moste,
Mercyful God in Trinite!
I am þi dowtyr, wel þou woste,
And mercy fro heuene þou browtyst fre.
Schew me þi grace in euery coste!
In þis cas my counforte be!
Lete me, Lord, neuere be loste
At þi jugement, whovso it be,
Of Mankynd.
Ne had mans synne neuere cum in cas
I, Mercy, schuld neuere in erthe had plas.
Þerfore graunte me, Lord, þi grace,
Þat Mankynd may me fynd.
Mercyful God in Trinite!
I am þi dowtyr, wel þou woste,
And mercy fro heuene þou browtyst fre.
Schew me þi grace in euery coste!
In þis cas my counforte be!
Lete me, Lord, neuere be loste
At þi jugement, whovso it be,
Of Mankynd.
Ne had mans synne neuere cum in cas
I, Mercy, schuld neuere in erthe had plas.
Þerfore graunte me, Lord, þi grace,
Þat Mankynd may me fynd.
And mercy, Lord, haue on þis man
Aftyr þi mercy, þat mekyl is,
Vnto þi grace þat he be tan,
Of þi mercy þat he not mys!
As þou descendyst fro þi trone
And lyth in a maydyns wombe iwys,
Incarnat was in blod and bone,
Lat Mankynd cum to þi blys,
As þou art Kynge of heuene!
For werldly veynglory
He hathe ben ful sory,
Punchyd in purgatory
For all þe synnys seuene.
Aftyr þi mercy, þat mekyl is,
Vnto þi grace þat he be tan,
Of þi mercy þat he not mys!
As þou descendyst fro þi trone
And lyth in a maydyns wombe iwys,
Incarnat was in blod and bone,
Lat Mankynd cum to þi blys,
As þou art Kynge of heuene!
For werldly veynglory
He hathe ben ful sory,
Punchyd in purgatory
For all þe synnys seuene.
Si pro peccato vetus Adam non cecidisset,
Mater pro nato numquam grauidata fuisset.
Ne had Adam synnyd here-before
And þi hestys in paradys had offent,
Neuere of þi modyr þou schuldyst a be bore,
Fro heuene to erthe to haue be sent.
But thyrti wyntyr here and more,
Bowndyn and betyn and al to-schent,
Scornyd and scovrgyd sadde and sore,
And on þe rode rewly rent,
Passus sub Pilato Poncio.
As þou henge on þe croys
On hye þou madyste a voys,
Mans helthe, þe gospel seys,
Whanne þou seydyst ‘Scitio’.
And þi hestys in paradys had offent,
Neuere of þi modyr þou schuldyst a be bore,
Fro heuene to erthe to haue be sent.
But thyrti wyntyr here and more,
Bowndyn and betyn and al to-schent,
Scornyd and scovrgyd sadde and sore,
And on þe rode rewly rent,
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As þou henge on þe croys
On hye þou madyste a voys,
Mans helthe, þe gospel seys,
Whanne þou seydyst ‘Scitio’.
scilicet, salutem animarum.
Þane þe Jeves þat were vnquert
Dressyd þe drynke, eysyl and galle.
It to taste þou myth nowth styrt
But seyd ‘Consummatum est’ was alle.
A knyt wyth a spere so smert,
Whanne þou forgafe þi fomen þrall,
He stonge þe, Lord, vnto þe hert.
Þanne watyr and blod gan ovte wall,
Aqua baptismatis et sanguis redempcionis.
Þe watyr of baptomm,
Þe blod of redempcioun
Þat fro þin herte ran doun
Est causa saluacionis.
Dressyd þe drynke, eysyl and galle.
It to taste þou myth nowth styrt
But seyd ‘Consummatum est’ was alle.
A knyt wyth a spere so smert,
Whanne þou forgafe þi fomen þrall,
He stonge þe, Lord, vnto þe hert.
Þanne watyr and blod gan ovte wall,
Aqua baptismatis et sanguis redempcionis.
Þe watyr of baptomm,
Þe blod of redempcioun
Þat fro þin herte ran doun
Est causa saluacionis.
Lord, þou þat man hathe don more mysse þanne good,
If he dey in very contricioun,
Lord, þe lest drope of þi blod
For hys synne makyth satysfaccioun.
As þou deydyst, Lord, on þe rode,
Graunt me my peticioun!
Lete me, Mercy, be hys fode,
And graunte hym þi saluacion,
Quia dixisti ‘Misericordiam seruabo’.
‘Mercy’ schal I synge and say
And ‘miserere’ schal I pray
For Mankynd euere and ay.
Misericordias Domini in eternum cantabo.
If he dey in very contricioun,
Lord, þe lest drope of þi blod
For hys synne makyth satysfaccioun.
As þou deydyst, Lord, on þe rode,
Graunt me my peticioun!
Lete me, Mercy, be hys fode,
And graunte hym þi saluacion,
Quia dixisti ‘Misericordiam seruabo’.
‘Mercy’ schal I synge and say
And ‘miserere’ schal I pray
For Mankynd euere and ay.
Misericordias Domini in eternum cantabo.
JUSTICIA.
Rythwys Kynge, Lord God almyth,
I am þi dowtyr Rythwysnesse.
Þou hast louyd me euere, day and nyth,
As wel as oþyr, as I gesse.
I am þi dowtyr Rythwysnesse.
Þou hast louyd me euere, day and nyth,
As wel as oþyr, as I gesse.
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Justicias Dominus justicia dilexit.
If þou mans kynde fro peyne aquite,
Þou dost ageyns þyne owyn processe.
Lete hym in preson to be pyth
For hys synne and wyckydnesse,
Of a bone I þe pray.
Ful oftyn he hathe þe, Lord, forsake
And to þe Devyl he hathe hym take.
Lete hym lyn in hell lake,
Dampnyd for euere and ay.
Þou dost ageyns þyne owyn processe.
Lete hym in preson to be pyth
For hys synne and wyckydnesse,
Of a bone I þe pray.
Ful oftyn he hathe þe, Lord, forsake
And to þe Devyl he hathe hym take.
Lete hym lyn in hell lake,
Dampnyd for euere and ay.
Quia Deum, qui se genuit, dereliquit.
For whanne Man to þe werld was bornn
He was browth to Holy Kyrke,
Feythly followd in þe funte-ston
And wesch fro orygynal synne so dyrke.
Satanas he forsok as hys fone,
All hys pompe and al hys werke,
And hyth to serue þe alone;
To kepe þi commandementys he schuld not irke,
Sicut justi tui.
But whanne he was com to mans astate
All hys behestys he þanne forgate.
He is worþi be dampnyd for þat,
Quia oblitus est Domini creatoris sui.
He was browth to Holy Kyrke,
Feythly followd in þe funte-ston
And wesch fro orygynal synne so dyrke.
Satanas he forsok as hys fone,
All hys pompe and al hys werke,
And hyth to serue þe alone;
To kepe þi commandementys he schuld not irke,
Sicut justi tui.
But whanne he was com to mans astate
All hys behestys he þanne forgate.
He is worþi be dampnyd for þat,
Quia oblitus est Domini creatoris sui.
For he hathe forgetyn þe þat hym wrout
And formydiste hym lyke þyne owyn face
And wyth þi precyous blod hym bowth
And in þis world þou ȝeue hym space.
All þi benefetys he set at nowth
But toke hym to þe Deuelys trase,
Þe Flesch, þe World, was most in his þowth
And purpose to plese hem in euery plase,
So grymly on grounde.
I pray þe, Lord lovely,
Of man haue no mercy,
But, dere Lord, lete hym ly,
In hell lete hym be bounde!
And formydiste hym lyke þyne owyn face
And wyth þi precyous blod hym bowth
And in þis world þou ȝeue hym space.
All þi benefetys he set at nowth
But toke hym to þe Deuelys trase,
Þe Flesch, þe World, was most in his þowth
And purpose to plese hem in euery plase,
So grymly on grounde.
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Of man haue no mercy,
But, dere Lord, lete hym ly,
In hell lete hym be bounde!
Man hathe forsake þe Kynge of heuene
And hys Good Aungels gouernaunce
And solwyd hys sovle wyth synnys seuene
Be hys Badde Aungels comberaunce.
Vertuis he putte ful evyn away
Whanne Coveytyse gan hym avaunce.
He wende þat he schulde a levyd ay,
Tyl Deth trypte hym on hys daunce,
He loste hys wyttys fyve.
Ouyrlate he callyd Confescion;
Ouyrlyt was hys contricioun;
He made neuere satisfaccioun.
Dampne hym to helle belyve!
And hys Good Aungels gouernaunce
And solwyd hys sovle wyth synnys seuene
Be hys Badde Aungels comberaunce.
Vertuis he putte ful evyn away
Whanne Coveytyse gan hym avaunce.
He wende þat he schulde a levyd ay,
Tyl Deth trypte hym on hys daunce,
He loste hys wyttys fyve.
Ouyrlate he callyd Confescion;
Ouyrlyt was hys contricioun;
He made neuere satisfaccioun.
Dampne hym to helle belyve!
For if þou take Mans sowle to þe
Ageyns þi Rythwysnesse,
Þou dost wronge, Lorde, to Trewth and me
And puttys us fro oure devnesse.
Lord, lete vs neuere fro þe fle,
Ner streyne vs neuere in stresse,
But late þi dom be by vs thre
Mankynde in hell to presse,
Lord, I þe beseche!
For Rytwysnes dwellys euere sure
To deme Man aftyr hys deseruiture,
For to be dampnyd it is hys vre,
On Man I crie wreche.
Ageyns þi Rythwysnesse,
Þou dost wronge, Lorde, to Trewth and me
And puttys us fro oure devnesse.
Lord, lete vs neuere fro þe fle,
Ner streyne vs neuere in stresse,
But late þi dom be by vs thre
Mankynde in hell to presse,
Lord, I þe beseche!
For Rytwysnes dwellys euere sure
To deme Man aftyr hys deseruiture,
For to be dampnyd it is hys vre,
On Man I crie wreche.
Letabitur justus cum viderit vindictam.
MISERICORDIA.
Mercy, my systyr Rythwysnes!
Þou schape Mankynde no schonde.
Leve systyr, lete be þi dresse.
To saue Man lete vs fonde.
For if Man be dampnyd to hell dyrknes,
Þanne myth I wryngyn myn honde
Þat euere my state schulde be les,
My fredam to make bonde.
Mankynd is of oure kyn.
For I, Mercy, pase al thynge
Þat God made at þe begynnynge
And I am hys dowtyr ȝynge,
Dere systyr, lete be þi dyn!
Þou schape Mankynde no schonde.
Leve systyr, lete be þi dresse.
To saue Man lete vs fonde.
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Þanne myth I wryngyn myn honde
Þat euere my state schulde be les,
My fredam to make bonde.
Mankynd is of oure kyn.
For I, Mercy, pase al thynge
Þat God made at þe begynnynge
And I am hys dowtyr ȝynge,
Dere systyr, lete be þi dyn!
Et misericordia ejus super omnia opera ejus.
Of Mankynde aske þou neuere wreche
Be day ner be nyth,
For God hymself hath ben hys leche,
Of hys mercyful myth.
To me he gan hym beteche,
Besyde al hys ryth.
For hym wyl I prey and preche
To gete hym fre respyth,
And my systyr Pese.
For hys mercy is wythout begynnynge
And schal be wythoutyn endynge,
As Dauid seyth, þat worthy kynge;
In scriptur is no les.
Be day ner be nyth,
For God hymself hath ben hys leche,
Of hys mercyful myth.
To me he gan hym beteche,
Besyde al hys ryth.
For hym wyl I prey and preche
To gete hym fre respyth,
And my systyr Pese.
For hys mercy is wythout begynnynge
And schal be wythoutyn endynge,
As Dauid seyth, þat worthy kynge;
In scriptur is no les.
Et misericordia ejus a progenie in progenies et cetera.
VERITAS.
Mercy is Mankynde non worthy,
Dauid þou þou recorde and rede,
For he wolde neuere þe hungry
Neyþyr clothe nor fede,
Ner drynke gyf to þe þrysty,
Nyn pore men helpe at nede.
For if he dyd non of þese, forþy
In heuene he getyth no mede.
So seyth þe gospel.
For he hathe ben vnkynde
To lame and to blynde
In helle he schal be pynde.
So is resun and skyl.
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Pesible Kyng in majeste,
I, Pes þi dowtyr, aske þe a bonn
Of Man, whouso it be.
Lord, graunte me myn askynge sonn,
Þat I may euermore dwelle wyth þe
As I haue euere ȝyt donn,
And lat me neuere fro þe fle,
Specialy at þi dome
Of Man, þi creature.
Þou my systyr Ryth and Trewthe
Of Mankynd haue non rewthe,
Mercy and I ful sore vs mewythe
To cacche hym to our cure.
I, Pes þi dowtyr, aske þe a bonn
Of Man, whouso it be.
Lord, graunte me myn askynge sonn,
Þat I may euermore dwelle wyth þe
As I haue euere ȝyt donn,
And lat me neuere fro þe fle,
Specialy at þi dome
Of Man, þi creature.
Þou my systyr Ryth and Trewthe
Of Mankynd haue non rewthe,
Mercy and I ful sore vs mewythe
To cacche hym to our cure.
For whanne þou madyst erthe and hevyn,
Ten orderys of aungelys to ben in blys,
Lucyfer, lyter þanne þe leuyn
Tyl whanne he synnyd, he fel iwys.
To restore þat place ful evyn
Þou madyst Mankynd wyth þys
To fylle þat place þat I dyd nevene.
If þy wyl be resun it is,
In pes and rest,
Amonge þyne aungels bryth
To worchep þe in syth,
Graunt, Lord God almyth!
And so I holde it best.
Ten orderys of aungelys to ben in blys,
Lucyfer, lyter þanne þe leuyn
Tyl whanne he synnyd, he fel iwys.
To restore þat place ful evyn
Þou madyst Mankynd wyth þys
To fylle þat place þat I dyd nevene.
If þy wyl be resun it is,
In pes and rest,
Amonge þyne aungels bryth
To worchep þe in syth,
Graunt, Lord God almyth!
And so I holde it best.
For þou Truthe, þat is my systyr dere,
Arguyth þat Man schuld dwell in wo
And Rytwysnes wyth hyr powere
Wolde fayn and fast þat it were so,
But Mercy and I, Pes, bothe in fere,
Schal neuere in feyth acorde þerto,
Þanne schuld we euere dyscorde here
And stande at bate for frend or foo
And euere at dystaunce.
Þerfore my counseyl is
Lete vs foure systerys kys
And restore Man to blys,
As was Godys ordenaunce.
Arguyth þat Man schuld dwell in wo
And Rytwysnes wyth hyr powere
Wolde fayn and fast þat it were so,
But Mercy and I, Pes, bothe in fere,
Schal neuere in feyth acorde þerto,
Þanne schuld we euere dyscorde here
And stande at bate for frend or foo
And euere at dystaunce.
Þerfore my counseyl is
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And restore Man to blys,
As was Godys ordenaunce.
Misericordia et Veritas obuiauerunt sibi, Justicia et Pax osculate sunt.
For if ȝe, Ryth and Truthe, schuld haue ȝour wylle,
I, Pes, and Mercy schuld euere haue trauest.
Þanne vs betwene had bene a gret perylle
Þat oure joyes in heuene schuld a ben lest.
Þerfore, gentyl systerys, consentyth me tyll,
Ellys betwene oureself schuld neuere be rest.
Where schuld be luf and charite, late þer cum non ille.
Loke oure joyes be perfyth, and þat I holde þe best,
In heueneryche blys.
For þer is pes wythowtyn were,
Þere is rest wythowtyn fere,
Þer is charite wythowtyn dere.
Our Fadyris wyll so is.
I, Pes, and Mercy schuld euere haue trauest.
Þanne vs betwene had bene a gret perylle
Þat oure joyes in heuene schuld a ben lest.
Þerfore, gentyl systerys, consentyth me tyll,
Ellys betwene oureself schuld neuere be rest.
Where schuld be luf and charite, late þer cum non ille.
Loke oure joyes be perfyth, and þat I holde þe best,
In heueneryche blys.
For þer is pes wythowtyn were,
Þere is rest wythowtyn fere,
Þer is charite wythowtyn dere.
Our Fadyris wyll so is.
Hic pax, hic bonitas, hic laus, hic semper honestas.
Þerfore, jentyl systerys, at on word,
Truth, Ryth, and Mercy hende,
Lete us stonde at on acord,
At pes wythowtyn ende.
Late loue and charyte be at oure bord,
Alle venjauns awey wende,
To heuene þat Man may be restoryd,
Lete us be all hys frende
Before oure Fadyrs face.
We schal deuoutly pray
At dredful domysday
And I schal for vs say
Þat Mankynd schal haue grace.
Truth, Ryth, and Mercy hende,
Lete us stonde at on acord,
At pes wythowtyn ende.
Late loue and charyte be at oure bord,
Alle venjauns awey wende,
To heuene þat Man may be restoryd,
Lete us be all hys frende
Before oure Fadyrs face.
We schal deuoutly pray
At dredful domysday
And I schal for vs say
Þat Mankynd schal haue grace.
Et tuam, Deus, deposcimus pietatem ut ei tribuere digneris lucidas et quietas mansiones.
Lord, for þi pyte and þat pes
Þou sufferyst in þi pascioun,
Boundyn and betyn, wythout les,
Fro þe fote to þe croun,
Tanquam ouis ductus es
Whanne gutte sanguis ran adoun,
Ȝyt þe Jves wolde not ses
But on þyn hed þei þryst a croun
And on þe cros þe naylyd.
As petously as þou were pynyd,
Haue mercy of Mankynd,
So þat he may fynde
Oure preyer may hym avayle.
Þou sufferyst in þi pascioun,
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Fro þe fote to þe croun,
Tanquam ouis ductus es
Whanne gutte sanguis ran adoun,
Ȝyt þe Jves wolde not ses
But on þyn hed þei þryst a croun
And on þe cros þe naylyd.
As petously as þou were pynyd,
Haue mercy of Mankynd,
So þat he may fynde
Oure preyer may hym avayle.
PATER sedens in trono.
Ego cogito cogitaciones pacis, non affliccionis.
Fayre falle þe, Pes, my dowtyr dere!
On þe I þynke and on Mercy.
Syn ȝe acordyd beth in all in fere,
My jugement I wyl ȝeue ȝou by
Not aftyr deseruynge to do reddere,
To dampne Mankynde to turmentry,
But brynge hym to my blysse ful clere
In heuene to dwelle endelesly,
At ȝour prayere forþi.
To make my blysse perfyth
I menge wyth my most myth
Alle pes, sum treuthe, and sum ryth,
And most of my mercy.
On þe I þynke and on Mercy.
Syn ȝe acordyd beth in all in fere,
My jugement I wyl ȝeue ȝou by
Not aftyr deseruynge to do reddere,
To dampne Mankynde to turmentry,
But brynge hym to my blysse ful clere
In heuene to dwelle endelesly,
At ȝour prayere forþi.
To make my blysse perfyth
I menge wyth my most myth
Alle pes, sum treuthe, and sum ryth,
And most of my mercy.
Misericordia Domini plena est terra. Amen!
Dicet filiabus:
My dowters hende,
Lufly and lusti to lende,
Goo to ȝone fende
And fro hym take Mankynd.
Lufly and lusti to lende,
Goo to ȝone fende
And fro hym take Mankynd.
Brynge hym to me
And set hym here be my kne,
In heuene to be,
In blysse wyth gamyn and gle.
And set hym here be my kne,
In heuene to be,
In blysse wyth gamyn and gle.
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We schal fulfylle
Þin hestys, as resun and skylle,
Fro ȝone gost grylle
Mankynde to brynge þe tylle.
Tunc ascendent ad MALUM ANGELUM omnes pariter et dicet
PAX.
A, þou foule wyth,
Lete go þat soule so tyth!
In heuene lyth
Mankynde sone schal be pyth.
JUSTICIA.
Go þou to helle,
Þou devyl bold as a belle,
Þerin to dwelle,
In bras and brimston to welle!
Tunc ascendent ad tronum
MISERICORDIA.
Lo here Mankynd,
Lyter þanne lef is on lynde,
Þat hath ben pynyd.
Þi mercy, Lord, lete hym fynde!
Lyter þanne lef is on lynde,
Þat hath ben pynyd.
Þi mercy, Lord, lete hym fynde!
PATER sedens in judicio.
Sicut sintilla in medio maris.
My mercy, Mankynd, ȝeue I þe.
Cum syt at my ryth honde.
Ful wel haue I louyd þe,
Vnkynd þow I þe fonde.
As a sparke of fyre in þe se
My mercy is synne-quenchand.
Þou hast cause to love me
Abovyn al thynge in land,
And kepe my comaundement.
If þou me loue and drede
Heuene schal be þi mede;
My face þe schal fede:
Þis is myn jugement.
Cum syt at my ryth honde.
Ful wel haue I louyd þe,
Vnkynd þow I þe fonde.
As a sparke of fyre in þe se
My mercy is synne-quenchand.
Þou hast cause to love me
Abovyn al thynge in land,
And kepe my comaundement.
If þou me loue and drede
Heuene schal be þi mede;
My face þe schal fede:
Þis is myn jugement.
Ego occidam et viuificabo, percuciam et sanabo, et nemo est qui de manu mea possit eruere.
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Kyng, kayser, knyt, and kampyoun,
Pope, patriark, prest, and prelat in pes,
Duke dowtyest in dede, be dale and be doun,
Lytyl and mekyl, þe more and þe les,
All þe statys of þe werld is at myn renoun;
To me schal þei ȝeue acompt at my dygne des.
Whanne Myhel hys horn blowyth at my dred dom
Þe count of here conscience schal putten hem in pres
And ȝeld a reknynge
Of here space whou þey han spent,
And of here trew talent,
At my gret jugement
An answere schal me brynge.
Pope, patriark, prest, and prelat in pes,
Duke dowtyest in dede, be dale and be doun,
Lytyl and mekyl, þe more and þe les,
All þe statys of þe werld is at myn renoun;
To me schal þei ȝeue acompt at my dygne des.
Whanne Myhel hys horn blowyth at my dred dom
Þe count of here conscience schal putten hem in pres
And ȝeld a reknynge
Of here space whou þey han spent,
And of here trew talent,
At my gret jugement
An answere schal me brynge.
Ecce, requiram gregem meum de manu pastoris.
And I schal inquire of my flok and of here pasture
Whou þey haue leuyd and led here peple sojet.
Þe goode on þe ryth syd schul stond ful sure;
Þe badde on þe lyfte syd þer schal I set.
Þe seuene dedys of mercy whoso hadde vre
To fylle, þe hungry for to geue mete,
Or drynke to þrysty, þe nakyd, vesture,
Þe pore or þe pylgrym hom for to fette,
Þi neybour þat hath nede;
Whoso doth mercy to hys myth
To þe seke, or in presun pyth,
He doth to me; I schal hym qvyth;
Heuene blys schal be hys mede.
Whou þey haue leuyd and led here peple sojet.
Þe goode on þe ryth syd schul stond ful sure;
Þe badde on þe lyfte syd þer schal I set.
Þe seuene dedys of mercy whoso hadde vre
To fylle, þe hungry for to geue mete,
Or drynke to þrysty, þe nakyd, vesture,
Þe pore or þe pylgrym hom for to fette,
Þi neybour þat hath nede;
Whoso doth mercy to hys myth
To þe seke, or in presun pyth,
He doth to me; I schal hym qvyth;
Heuene blys schal be hys mede.
Et qui bona egerunt ibunt in vitam eternam; qui vero mala, in ignem eternum.
And þei þat wel do in þis werld, here welthe schal awake;
In heuene þei schal be heynyd in bounte and blys;
And þei þat evyl do, þei schul to helle lake
In byttyr balys to be brent: my jugement it is.
My vertus in heuene þanne schal þei qwake.
Þer is no wyth in þis werld þat may skape þis.
All men example here-at may take
To mayntein þe goode and mendyn here mys.
Þus endyth oure gamys.
To saue ȝou fro synnynge
Evyr at þe begynnynge
Thynke on ȝoure last endynge!
Te Deum laudamus!
In heuene þei schal be heynyd in bounte and blys;
And þei þat evyl do, þei schul to helle lake
In byttyr balys to be brent: my jugement it is.
My vertus in heuene þanne schal þei qwake.
Þer is no wyth in þis werld þat may skape þis.
All men example here-at may take
To mayntein þe goode and mendyn here mys.
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To saue ȝou fro synnynge
Evyr at þe begynnynge
Thynke on ȝoure last endynge!
Te Deum laudamus!
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