 | The Gloueres |  |
[Scene, ? in the field.]
Gramercy! god of thy goodnes,
That me on molde has marked þi man,
I worshippe þe with worthynes,
With alle þe comforte þat I can.
Me for to were fro warkes wanne,
For to fulfille thy comaundement,
þe teynd
Of alle þe gode sen I be-ganne,
Thow shalle it haue, sen þow it sent.
Come, brother Cayme, I wolde we wente,
with hert ful hende.
We! Whythir now in wilde waneand,
Trowes þou I thynke to trusse of towne?
Goo, iape þe, robard iangillande,
Me liste noȝt nowe to rouk nor rowne.
Abell.
A! dere brothir, late vs be bowne
Goddis biddyng blithe to fulfille,
I tell þe.
Caym.
Ya! daunce in þe devilway, dresse þe downe,
For I wille wyrke euen as I will.
What mystris þe, in gode or ille,
of me to melle þe?
To melle of þe myldely I may,
Bot goode brothir, go we in haste,
Gyffe god oure teynde dulye þis day,
He byddis vs þus, be nouȝt abassed.
Cay.
Ya! deuell me thynkeþ þat werke were waste,
That he vs gaffe geffe hym agayne,
to se.
Nowe fekyll frenshippe for to fraste,
Me thynkith þer is in hym sarteyne.
If he be moste in myghte and mayne,
what nede has he?
He has non nede vn-to þi goode,
But it wille please hym principall,
If þou, myldly in mayne and moode,
Grouche noȝt geue hym tente parte of all.
[OMITTED]
If shall be done evyn as ye bydd,
And that Anone.
Brewb.
Lo! Mr. Cayme, what shares bryng I,
Evyn of the best for to bere seyd.
And to the ffeylde I wyll me hye
To fetch you moo, if ye haue neyd.
Cayme.
Come vp! sir knave! the devyll the speyd,
Ye will not come but ye be prayd.
Brewb.
O! maister Caym, I haue broken my to!
Cayme.
Come vp, syr, for by my thryst,
Ye shall drynke or ye goo.
[Enter Angel.
Ang.
Thowe cursyd Came, where is Abell?
Where hais thowe done thy broder dere?
Cayme.
What askes thowe me that taill to tell?
For yit his keper was I never.
Ang.
God hais sent the his curse downe,
Fro hevyn to hell, maldictio dei.
Cayme.
Take that thy self, evyn on thy crowne,
Quia non sum custos fratris mei,
To tyne.
Ang.
God hais sent the his malyson,
And inwardly I geve the myne.
Cayme.
The same curse light on thy crowne,
And right so myght it worth and be,
For he that sent that gretyng downe
The devyll myght speyd both hym & the.
Fowll myght thowe fall!
Here is a cankerd company,
Therefore goddes curse light on you all.
[OMITTED]
What hast þou done? be-holde and heere,
Þe voice of his bloode cryeth vengeaunce.
Fro erthe to heuen, with voice entere,
þis tyde.
That god is greved with thy greuaunce
Take hede, I schalle telle þe tydandis,
þerfore abide.
God has geffyn þe his malisonne,
Yff þou wolde tyll þe erthe so rounde
No frute to þe þer shalle be founde.
Of wikkidnesse sen þou arte sonne,
Thou shalle be waferyng here and þere,
þis day.
In bittir bale nowe art þou boune,
Out-castyn shal þou be for care,
No man shal rewe of thy misfare,
for þis affraie.
Allas! for syte, so may I saye,
My synne it passis al mercie,
For ask it þe, lord, I ne maye,
To haue it am I nouȝt worthy.
Fro þe shalle I be hidde in hye,
Þou castis me, lorde, oute of my kyth
In lande.
Both here and there oute-caste am I,
For ilke a man þat metis me with,
They wille slee me, be ffenne or ffrith,
with dynte of hande.
Nay, Cayme nouȝt soo, haue þou no drede,
Who þat þe slees shalle ponnysshed be
Sevene sithis for doyng of þat dede;
For-thy a token shal þou see,
It shalle be prentyd so in þe,
That ilke aman shalle þe knowe full wele.
Caym.
Thanne wolle I ffa[r]dir flee
for shame.
Sethen I am sette þus out of seill,
That curse that I haue for to feill,
I giffe you þe same.
1.
Ang.
That Lord of Lyffe lele ay lastand,
Whos myght vn-mesured is to meyne,
He shoppe þe sonne, both see and sande,
And wroughte þis worlde with worde, I wene.
His Aungell cleere, as cristall clene,
Here vn-to you þus am I sente
Þis tide.
Abell and Cayme, þei both by-deyne,
To me enteerly takis entent,
To meve my message haue I ment,
if þat ye bide.
Whos myght vn-mesured is to meyne,
He shoppe þe sonne, both see and sande,
And wroughte þis worlde with worde, I wene.
His Aungell cleere, as cristall clene,
Here vn-to you þus am I sente
Þis tide.
Abell and Cayme, þei both by-deyne,
To me enteerly takis entent,
To meve my message haue I ment,
if þat ye bide.
2.
Alle myghty god of myghtes moste,
When he had wrought þis world so wide,
No thynge hym þoughte was wroughte in waste
But in his blissyng boune to bide.
Neyne ordurs for to telle, þat tyde,
Of Aungeles bryght he bad þer be,
for pride.
And sone þe tente part it was tried,
And wente awaye, as was worthye,
They heild to helle all þat meyne,
þer-in to bide.
When he had wrought þis world so wide,
No thynge hym þoughte was wroughte in waste
But in his blissyng boune to bide.
Neyne ordurs for to telle, þat tyde,
Of Aungeles bryght he bad þer be,
for pride.
36
And wente awaye, as was worthye,
They heild to helle all þat meyne,
þer-in to bide.
3.
Þanne made he manne to his liknes,
That place of price for to restore,
And sithen he kyd him such kyndnes,
Som-what wille he wirke þer-fore.
The tente to tyne he askis, nomore,
Of alle þe goodes he haues you sent,
full trew.
To offyr loke þat ye be yore,
And to my tale yhe take entent,
For ilke-a lede þat liffe has lente,
shalle you ensewe,
That place of price for to restore,
And sithen he kyd him such kyndnes,
Som-what wille he wirke þer-fore.
The tente to tyne he askis, nomore,
Of alle þe goodes he haues you sent,
full trew.
To offyr loke þat ye be yore,
And to my tale yhe take entent,
For ilke-a lede þat liffe has lente,
shalle you ensewe,
4.
Abell.Gramercy! god of thy goodnes,
That me on molde has marked þi man,
I worshippe þe with worthynes,
With alle þe comforte þat I can.
Me for to were fro warkes wanne,
For to fulfille thy comaundement,
þe teynd
Of alle þe gode sen I be-ganne,
Thow shalle it haue, sen þow it sent.
Come, brother Cayme, I wolde we wente,
with hert ful hende.
5.
Cay.We! Whythir now in wilde waneand,
Trowes þou I thynke to trusse of towne?
Goo, iape þe, robard iangillande,
Me liste noȝt nowe to rouk nor rowne.
Abell.
A! dere brothir, late vs be bowne
Goddis biddyng blithe to fulfille,
I tell þe.
37
Ya! daunce in þe devilway, dresse þe downe,
For I wille wyrke euen as I will.
What mystris þe, in gode or ille,
of me to melle þe?
6.
Ab.To melle of þe myldely I may,
Bot goode brothir, go we in haste,
Gyffe god oure teynde dulye þis day,
He byddis vs þus, be nouȝt abassed.
Cay.
Ya! deuell me thynkeþ þat werke were waste,
That he vs gaffe geffe hym agayne,
to se.
Nowe fekyll frenshippe for to fraste,
Me thynkith þer is in hym sarteyne.
If he be moste in myghte and mayne,
what nede has he?
7.
Ab.He has non nede vn-to þi goode,
But it wille please hym principall,
If þou, myldly in mayne and moode,
Grouche noȝt geue hym tente parte of all.
[OMITTED]
If shall be done evyn as ye bydd,
And that Anone.
Brewb.
Lo! Mr. Cayme, what shares bryng I,
Evyn of the best for to bere seyd.
And to the ffeylde I wyll me hye
To fetch you moo, if ye haue neyd.
Cayme.
Come vp! sir knave! the devyll the speyd,
Ye will not come but ye be prayd.
38
O! maister Caym, I haue broken my to!
Cayme.
Come vp, syr, for by my thryst,
Ye shall drynke or ye goo.
[Enter Angel.
Ang.
Thowe cursyd Came, where is Abell?
Where hais thowe done thy broder dere?
Cayme.
What askes thowe me that taill to tell?
For yit his keper was I never.
Ang.
God hais sent the his curse downe,
Fro hevyn to hell, maldictio dei.
Cayme.
Take that thy self, evyn on thy crowne,
Quia non sum custos fratris mei,
To tyne.
Ang.
God hais sent the his malyson,
And inwardly I geve the myne.
Cayme.
The same curse light on thy crowne,
And right so myght it worth and be,
For he that sent that gretyng downe
The devyll myght speyd both hym & the.
Fowll myght thowe fall!
Here is a cankerd company,
Therefore goddes curse light on you all.
[OMITTED]
8.
Ang.What hast þou done? be-holde and heere,
Þe voice of his bloode cryeth vengeaunce.
Fro erthe to heuen, with voice entere,
þis tyde.
That god is greved with thy greuaunce
Take hede, I schalle telle þe tydandis,
þerfore abide.
9.
Þou shall be curssed vppon þe grounde,
God has geffyn þe his malisonne,
Yff þou wolde tyll þe erthe so rounde
No frute to þe þer shalle be founde.
39
Thou shalle be waferyng here and þere,
þis day.
In bittir bale nowe art þou boune,
Out-castyn shal þou be for care,
No man shal rewe of thy misfare,
for þis affraie.
10.
Cay.Allas! for syte, so may I saye,
My synne it passis al mercie,
For ask it þe, lord, I ne maye,
To haue it am I nouȝt worthy.
Fro þe shalle I be hidde in hye,
Þou castis me, lorde, oute of my kyth
In lande.
Both here and there oute-caste am I,
For ilke a man þat metis me with,
They wille slee me, be ffenne or ffrith,
with dynte of hande.
11.
Ang.Nay, Cayme nouȝt soo, haue þou no drede,
Who þat þe slees shalle ponnysshed be
Sevene sithis for doyng of þat dede;
For-thy a token shal þou see,
It shalle be prentyd so in þe,
That ilke aman shalle þe knowe full wele.
Caym.
Thanne wolle I ffa[r]dir flee
for shame.
Sethen I am sette þus out of seill,
That curse that I haue for to feill,
I giffe you þe same.
| The Gloueres | |