 | Theophilus |  |
III.
The deuill entreth the busshops harte, moveth him vehementlye for his clyent Theophilus, who restored to his firste estate, or rather much hygher, floryshed there in a space, tyll God by his holye spyryte vysited his harte to acknowledge his cursed wickednes.
62
Entringe the cyte, he heare and theare wente,And let not abroade hym self now to shewe,
Though yeat not taken in state reverent,
But letten wander emonge the rude crewe.
The devill in the harte of the busshoppe dyd dewe
His divillishe stirringis, nyght, deye, more and more,
Theophilus to his olde state to restore.
63
Perswaded he was by the same illuser,He was a man moste vertuous and meete:
Therfore to blame to bee hys mysvser,
Owte of regarde to wander in the streete.
Fferder thus more,—he was moved as yeate,
That but he shortlye dyd see to the thinge,
God, sure, wolde plague him to hys vndoinge.
64
The busshoppe in deade, who was a good man,Though wexed with the vngratious spyrite,
For this Theophilus searche make he can,
And soone was he browght to the busshoppes sight;
Who vnto hym with meeke appetyte
Kneeled a downe, forgevenes askinge
For hym so vngentelye mysentreatynge.
65
Supposinge thinstygations such wiseHadd comen of God, and not of the ffynde,
Therfore much gladdlye he soone dyd devise
To sette in the state hee before hadd resynde.
So was the busshoppe by Sathan made blynde,
And Theophilus resumd agayne
His prystinate place with harte gladd and fayne.
66
All this was well to his hartes agreement,And, as before, florished much gayelye
With greate abundaunce of lyvinge and rente,
93
Higher respected then a great maynye,
By farre greater dealle then eaver before.
So can the devill doe for all of his lore.
67
After longe season the Lorde of all light,That lightened the hartis of sundrye the blynde,
And Peeter respected, though yt were by night,
In Annas pallace in mercyfull kynde,—
Who eavermore myndeth well to mankinde,
That speciallye lyste there owne welth tattende,
Theophilus harte pleased to accende.
68
And as the devyll wrought to his hinderaunce,And furthered to moste extremytee,
So Christe him stirred vnto repentaunce,
By knowing his fawte with all humylytee,—
Though foyled in soyle of false ffragylyte,
Though as drowned by longe consuetude,
Yet avoyded by grace that is induede.
69
Wheare throwe the ffynde aboundeth malyce,Is made by Christe to afflowe with vertue,
Who of his passion liste taiste the chalice,
By proof of penaunce the same to ensue.
His bloodsheadynge from the fynde shall rescue.
Not so the devill to overthrowe is fayne,
But Christe as readye to raise vppe agayne.
70
And nowe he pleaseth much mercyfullyeThencombred harte of this man to visite.
For no good thought aryseth in anye
But by infusion of Godes holye spirite,
Who in this mannys conscience liste to alyte,
Him as accusinge he hadd not doone well,
Threatninge well worthye the sorrowes of hell.
71
Such motyons, by God, rysinge deye by deye,Owte of the cyte him selfe he withdrewe,
For cyte is place, who wiselye liste weye,—
Not beste for contemplation to ensue,
Because of fonde sightis, that there doth renue
Of worldelye pleasures acquaintaunce and such
Which to synnes acknowledge hindereth much.
72
Walkinge of setteled purpose,Callinge to mynde hys myserable estate,
94
Him self verye cause of such cursed fate,
Which to remeadye he thought yt to late:
For weetingely so his Lorde to renye,
Vnworthye, therfore, to haue his mercye.
73
Hee wandered forth with hartes encombraunce,His cursed fact inaudyte to saye:
In eaverye behalf, the whole cyrcomstaunce,
Neaver the lyke doone before the same deye,
So purposelye to caste hym selfe awaye
For mundayne glorye, vanyshinge so soone;
Accomptinge him selfe for eaver vndoone.
74
‘Halas’, he sayde, ‘what happe is mee befalle,To doe that neaver dyd Christian before?
Christian I was; no Christian nowe to calle.
That name haue I loste nowe for eavermore.
What eaver losse ells, some meanys maye restore;
But losse so of sowle, which I am falne yn,
Meanys I knowe none howe reamedye to wyn’.
75
So plunged in care of woues manyfolde,The mynde molested moste myserablye,
The heavens over headde he lyste not beholde,
For hee of the sight therof vnworthye,
Whoe, geavin to the devill from the Allmightye;
Of heaven and earth in eaverye condytion
Vnworthye of them to haue anye fruition.
76
So as this wretche wente wandringe abowte,Moste myserablye in harte perplexed,
Which waye to converte hym standinge in dowte,
So, desperation to his greife annexed,
No mervaile thowghe hee were throughly vexed,
Who, so as hee, geaven hole to the dyvill,
Maye saye: ‘To his eavill compare maye no evyll’.
77
Though Peeter his maister allso forsooke,Hee dyd yt not of propensed purpose.
Ffrailtie of the fleshe hym sodaynlye overtooke,
That hee not wiste what he saide vnto those
Which on eaverye syde dyd him so enclose.
What though a bye worde, vnwares, doe owte starte,
It maye swre be sayde yt was not with his harte.
78
Some saye it was doone dyspensatiuelye,On other synners that he schowlde relente,
95
Leste he with rigour might on much tormente;
Hys owne falle consyderinge, therfore content
Others the lyke meekelye to consyder,
With them in repentance to ioyne together.
79
In all these sorowes departed the manOwte of all mennys syght, whether ne wiste,
‘Alas’, allwaye sayinge, ‘my chaunce I do banne,
Who with his comforte maye mee owghtis assiste?
Moste myserablye of all men vnblyste,
My cause to anye I dare not declare,
Sith to all men moste odyous ande rare.
80
I wretche, the wickedste that eaver dyd lyue,Not worthye the heavens with iyen to beholde,
Myne owne vearye conscyence doth mee repryue,
For that my sowle to the devyll Ih haue solde.
How can I but sorowe a thowsande kynde folde?
Yf tearys I might sheade, to graveyle in the seaye,
Yeat not hable to weshe my synnes a weye.
81
I hauinge reason: Dygression with all,Traded longe season in literature,
So purposedlye in daunger to falle
Of Sathan, enemye to humayne nature,
Of whom warned by dyvyne scripture,
For that hee seeketh, each deye, night and howre,
Whom hee maye thrall and vtterlye devowre.
82
To ffaule in hys daunger of setteled purpose,And that in sorte moste cursedlye to saye,
How can I my mynde to anye disclose?
But shame my doinge, to my dyinge deye,
Ffor which I sighe and crye owte ‘wellawaye’.
Woe worth that eaver so cursed I was
To geue my sellf cause to crye owte ‘alas’!
83
What shall I nowe doe, what maye I devise,That owghtes maye bee my syn to reamedye?
I neades muste abyde the divyne iustice,
Of which dampnation the dwe penaltye.
Oh, ‘wellawaye’ it forseth mee to crye.
Some instincte of grace, good God, in mee infuse,
Wherby mye sowle from hell I maye excuse!
96
84
Allthoughe off mercye I neaver maye deserue,—The facte I haue doone I cannot make vndooe—
Sith reamedye none, but needes I muste sterue,
Yeat will I neaver condescende thervntooe.
The dyuill, it was playne, dyd mee therto wooe,
And dyd mee enchaunte in his thrall to ketche.
To yealde mee thervnto I graunte mee more wretch.
85
Notwithstandinge my synnes circumstance,Yeat not to despaire! For desperatio,
—As dyvyne authors maketh assurance—
‘Est enim peior omni peccato’.
Though fearfull to the iudge to shue vntoe,
I will to his mother, nearste of alye,
Make meanys yf shee maye optayn mee mercye’.
86
Vnto a chappell, of easmente, hee went,Dedycate vnto the virgin Marye,
—To which on holly dayes by hamlettis went,
For theire peroche church from them dyd farre lye,—
In which Theophilus made hys entrye,
Prostratinge him self before her image,
In pyteous wise suinge to haue her suffrage.
87
‘To thee I speake not, thowe image present,But vnto the lyuelye Ladye soveraigne,
Whiche highe in the heavins ys theare reasident,
Whom this saide image representeth playne,
Movinge remembraunce.—In certayne kinde veyne,
None otherwise myne adoration,
But after hyperdulya fashion’.
88
Prosterned such wise on the pavyment,With harte moste contryte as cause dyd constreyne,
Bedewinge the same with tearys that owte wente,
Like cunduite water, owte of iyen twayne,
Troboled, God wote, in eaverye veyne,
Notwithstandinge, in humbleste wyse he myght,
He spake as followeth, none neare to impedyte:
| Theophilus | |