University of Virginia Library

[Scene, Herod's Court.]
Rex.

i Dux.
My lorde, we schall take kepe to youre call,
And stirre to no stede but ȝe steuen vs;
No greuaunce to grete ne to small.

Rex.
Ya, but loke þat no fawtes be-fall.

ii Dux.
Lely, my lorde, so we shall.
Ye nede not nomore for to nevyn vs!

i Dux.
Mounseniour, demene you in menske in mynde what I mene,
And boune to youre bodword, for so holde I best,
For all þe comons of þis courte bene avoyde clene.
And ilke a renke, as resoune is, are gone to þer reste,
Wher-fore I counsaile my lorde, ȝe comaunde you a drynke.

Rex.
Nowe certis, I assente as þou sais,
Se ych a qwy is wente on his ways,
Lightly with-outen any delayes.
Giffe vs wyne wynly and late vs go wynke,
And se þat no durdan be done.

i Dux.
My lorde, vn-lase you to lye,
Here schall none come for to crye.

Rex.
Nowe spedely loke þat þou spie,
Þat no noyse be neghand þis none.

i dux.
My lorde, youre bedde is new made,
You nedis not for to bide it.

Rex.
Ya, but as þou luffes me hartely,
Laye me doune softely,
For þou wotte full wele
Þat I am full tendirly hydid.

[Lies down.
i Dux.
Howe lye ȝe, my goode lorde?

Rex.
Right wele, be þis light,
All hole at my desire,
Wherfore I praye sir Satan, oure sire,
And Lucifer moste luffely of lyre,
He sauffe you all sirs, and giffe you goode nyght.

[Soldiers, outside.
i Miles.
Sir knyght, ye wote we ar warned to wende,
To witte of þis warlowe what is þe kyngis will.

ii Miles.
Sir, here is Herowde all even here at oure hende,
And all oure entente tyte schall we tell hym vntill.

i Miles.
Who is here?

[At the door.
i Dux.
Who is there?

i Miles.
[Outside.]
Sir, we are knyghtis kende,
Is comen to youre counsaill þis carle for to kill.

i Dux.
Sirs, but youre message may myrthis amende,
Stalkis furthe be yone stretis, or stande stone still.

ii Miles.
Yis certis, sir, of myrthis we mene,
The kyng schall haue matteres to melle hym,
We brynge here a boy vs be-twene,
Wher-fore haue worschippe we wene.

i Dux.
[Goes to the king.

Rex.
What! and schall I rise nowe, in þe deuyllis name?
To stighill amang straungeres in stales of a state.
But haue here my hande, halde nowe!
[Rising.]
And se þat my sloppe be wele sittande.

i Dux.

Rex.
Ȝa, but loke ye telle vs no tales but trewe.

ii Dux.
My lorde, þei bryng you yondir a boy boune in a bande,
Þat bodus outhir bourdyng or bales to brewe.

Rex.
Þanne gete we some harrowe full hastely at hande.

i Dux.
My lorde, þer is some note þat is nedfull to neven you of new.

Rex.
Why, hoppis þou þei haste hym to hyng?

ii Dux.
We wotte noght þer will nor þere wenyng.
But boodword full blithely þei bryng.

Rex.
Nowe do þan and late vs se of þere sayng.

ii Dux.
[Calls to the soldiers.]
Lo! sirs, ye schall carpe with the kyng,
And telles to hym manly youre menyng.

[Enter soldiers.
i Miles.
Lorde, welthis and worschippis be with you alway.

Rex.
What wolde þou?

ii Miles.
A worde, lorde, and youre willis were.

Rex.
Well, saye on þan.

i Miles.
My lorde, we fare foolys to flay,
Þat to you wolde forfette.

Rex.
We! faire falle you þerfore!

i Miles.
My lorde, fro ȝe here what we saie,
Itt will heffe vppe youre hertis.

Rex.
Ȝa, but saie what heynde haue ȝe þore?

ii Miles.
A presente fro Pilate, lorde, þe prince of oure lay.

Rex.
Pese in my presence, and nemys hym nomore.

i Miles.
My lorde, he woll worschippe you faine.

Rex.
I consayue ȝe are ful foes of hym.

ii Miles.
My lorde, he wolde menske you with mayne,
And therfore he sendis you þis swayne.

Rex.
Gose tyte with þat gedlyng agayne,
And saie hym a borowed bene sette I noght be hym.

i Dux.
A! my lorde, with youre leve, þei haue faren ferre;
And for to fraiste of youre fare was no folye.

ii Dux.
My lorde, and þis gedlyng go þus it will greue werre,
For he gares growe on þis grounde grete velanye.

Rex.
Why, menys þou þat þat myghtyng schulde my myghtes marre?

i Dux.
Nay lorde, but he makis on þis molde mekill maystrie.

Rex.
Go ynne, and late vs see of þe sawes ere,
And but yf þei be to oure bordyng, þai both schall abye.

ii Miles.
My lorde, we [were] worthy to blame,
To brynge you any message of mysse.

Rex.
Why, þan can ye nemyn vs his name?

i Miles.
Sir, Criste haue we called hym at hame.

Rex.
O! þis is the ilke selue and þe same!
Nowe sirs, ye be welcome y-wisse,
And in faith I am fayne he is fonne,/His farles to frayne and to fele,
Nowe þes games was grathely begonne.

ii Miles.
Lorde, lely, þat likis vs wele.

Rex.
Ya, but dar ȝe hete hartely þat harlott is he?

i Miles.
My lorde takis hede, and in haste ye schall here howe.

Rex.
Ya, but what menys þat þis message was made vn-to me?

ii Miles.
My lorde, for it touches to tresoune, I trowe.

i Miles.
My lorde, he is culpabill kende in oure contre,
Of many perillus poyntis, as Pilate preues nowe.

ii Miles.
My lorde, when Pilate herde he had gone thurgh Galyle,
He lerned vs þat þat lordschippe longed to ȝou,
And or he wiste what youre willis were,
No ferther wolde he speke for to spille hym.

Rex.
Þanne knawes he þat oure myghtis are þe more?

i Miles.
Ȝa, certis sir, so saie we þore.

Rex.

ii Miles.
My lorde, wolde he saie you soth of his sawe,
Ȝe saugh nevir slik selcouth, be see nor be sande.

Rex.
Nowe gois a-bakke both, and late þe boy blowe,
For I hope we gete some harre hastely at hande.

i Miles.
Jerusalem and þe Jewes may haue joie,
And hele in ther herte for to here hym.

Rex.
Saie! beene venew in bone fay,
Ne plesew et a parle remoy.

ii Miles.
Nay, my lorde, he can of no bourdyng, þis boy.

Rex.
No sir, with þi leue we schall lere hym.

[Enter Herod's son.
i Fil.
My lorde, se ther knyghtis, þat knawe and are kene,
How þai come to youre courte withoutyn any call.

Rex.
Ȝa, sone, and musteris grete maistries, what may þis by-mene?

i Dux.
My lorde, for youre myghtis are more þan ye all,
They seke you as souerayne, and sertis þat is sene.

Rex.
Nowe certis, sen ȝe saie so, assaie hym I schall,
For I am fayner of þat freyke þen othir fiftene.
Ȝae, and hym þat firste fande, faire myght hym fall!

i Miles.
Lorde, lely we lereth you no legh,
Þis liffe þat he ledis will lose hym.

Rex.

ii Dux.
Harke, cosyne, þou comys to carpe with a kyng,
Take tente and be conande, and carpe as þou knowis.

i Dux.
Ya, and loke þat þou be not a sotte of thy saying,
But sadly and sone þou sette all þi sawes.

Rex.
Hym semys full boudisch, þat boy þat þei bryng.
Mi lorde, and of his bordyng grete bostyng men blawes.

Rex.
Whi, þerfore haue I soughte hym to see,
Loke bewscheris, ye be to oure bodis boune.

i Dux.
Knele doune here to þe kyng on thy knee.

ii Dux.
Naye, nedelyngis yt will not be.

Rex.
Loo! sirs, he mekis hym no more vnto me
Þanne it were to a man of þer awne toune.

i Dux.
Whe! go lawmere, and lerne þe to lowte,/Or þai more blame þe to bring.

Rex.

i Miles.
My lorde, his mervaylis to more and to myne,
Or musteres emange vs both mydday and morne.

ii Miles.
My lorde, it were to fele
Of wonderes, he workith þam so wightely.

i Miles.
Whe! man, momelyng may no thyng a-vayle,
Go to þe kyng, and tell hyme fro toppe vnto tayle.

Rex.
Do bringe vs þat boy vnto bale,
For lely we leffe hym noȝt lightly.

i Dux.
This mop meynes þat he may marke men to þer mede,
He makis many maistries and mervayles emange.

ii Dux.
V ml. folke faire gon he feede.
With fyve looffis and two fisshis to fange.

Rex.
Howe fele folke sais þou he fedde?

ii Dux.
V ml. lorde, þat come to his call.

Rex.
Ȝa, boye, howe mekill brede he þem bedde?

i Dux.
But V looffis, dare I wele wedde.

Rex.
Nowe, be þe bloode þat mahounde bledde,
What! þis was a wondir at all.

ii Dux.
Nowe lorde, ij fisshis blissid he efte,/And gaffe þame and þer none was for-getyn.

i Dux.
Ȝa, lorde, and xij lepfull þer lefte/Of releue whan all men had eten.

Rex.
Of such anodir mangery noman mene may.

ii Dux.
Mi lorde, but his maistries þat musteris his myght,

Rex.
But saie sirs, ar þer sawis soth þat þei saie?

ii Miles.
Ȝa lorde, and more selcouth were schewed to oure sight.
One Lazar, a ladde þat in oure lande lay,
Lay loken vndir layre fro lymme and fro light,
And his sistir come rakand in rewfull arraye,
And lorde, for þer raryng he raysed hym full right,
And fro his grath garte hym gang.
Euere forthe, with-outen any evill.

Rex.
We! such lesyngis lastis to lange.

i Miles.
Why lorde, wene ȝe þat wordis be wronge?
Þis same ladde lenys vs emange.

Rex.
Why, there hope y be dedis of þe deuyll.
Why schulde ȝe haste hym to hyng/That sought not newly youre newys?

ii Miles.
My lorde, for he callis hym a kyng,/And claymes to be a kyng of Jewis.

Rex.
But saie, is he kyng in his kyth where he come froo?

i Miles.
Nay lorde, but he callis hym a kyng, his caris to kele.

Rex.

i Dux.
My lorde it astonys hym, youre steuen is so store,
Hym had leuere haue stande stone still þer he stode.

Rex.
And whedir þe boy be abasshid of Herrowde byg blure,
That were a bourde of þe beste, be mahoundes bloode!

ii Dux.
My lorde, y trowe youre fauchone hym flaies
And lettis hym.

Rex.
Nowe lely I leue þe,
And therfore schall y waffe it away.
And softely with a septoure assaie.
Nowe sir, be perte y þe pray,
For none of my gromys schall greue þe.
Si loqueris tibi laus, pariter quoque prospera dantur,
Si loqueris tibi fraus, fell fex et bella parantur.
Mi menne, ȝe go menske hym with mayne,
And loke yhow þat it wolde seme.

i Dux.
(Dewcus).
Fayff sir, and sofferayne.

ii Dux
(Sir vdins).
Amangidre demayne.

Rex.
Go, aunswer thaym grathely agayne:
What deuyll! whedir dote we or dremys!

i Miles.
Naye we gete noȝt o worde, dare y wele wedde,
For he is wraiste of his witte or will of his wone.

Rex.
Ȝe saie he lakkid youre lawes as ȝe þat ladde ledde.

ii Miles.
Ȝa, lorde, and made many gaudis as we haue gone.

Rex.
Nowe sen he comes as a knave and as a knave cledde,
Wherto calle ye hym a kyng?

i Dux.
Nay lorde, he is none,
But an harlotte is hee.

Rex.
What deuyll! y ame harde stedde,
A man myght as wele stere a stokke as a stone.

i Fil.
My lorde, þis faitour so fouly is affrayde,
He loked neuere of lorde so langly allone.

Rex.
No sone, þe rebalde seis vs so richely arayed,
He wenys we be aungelis euere ilkone.

ii Dux.
My lorde, y holde hym agaste of youre gaye gere.

Rex.
Grete lordis augh to be gay;
Here schall noman do to þe dere,
And therfore yit nemyne in my nere,
For by the grete god, and þou garre me swere
Þou had neuere dole or this day,
Do carpe on tyte, karle, of thy kynne.

i Dux.
Nay, nedelyngis he neuyns you with none.

Rex.
Þat schalle he bye or he blynne.

ii Dux.
A! leves lorde!

Rex.
Lattis me allone.

i Dux.
Nowe goode lorde and ye may meue you nomore,
Itt is not faire to feght with a fonned foode,
But gose to youre counsaille and comforte you þere.

Rex.
Thou sais soth, we schall see yf so will be goode,
For certis oure sorowes are sadde.

ii Fil.
What a deuyll ayles hym?
My lorde, I can garre you be gladde,
For in tyme oure maistir is madde,
He lurkis loo, and lokis like a ladde,
He is wode, lorde, or ellis his witte faylis hym.

iii Fil.
My lorde, ȝe haue mefte you as mekill as ȝe may,
For yhe myght menske hym nomore, were he mahounde.
And sen it semys to be soo, latte vs nowe assaie.

Rex.
Loke bewscheris, ȝe be to oure boddis boune.

i Dux.
My lorde, howe schulde he dowte vs, he dredis not youre drays.

Rex.
Nowe do fourthe, þe deuyll myght hym drawe [sonne]!
And sen he freyins falsed and makis foule frayes,
Raris on hym rudely, and loke ȝe not ronne.

i Fil.
My lorde, I schall enforce my selffe sen ȝe saie soo,
Felawe, be not afferde nor feyne not þerfore,
But telle vs nowe some truffillis be-twene vs twoo,
And none of oure men schall medill þam more.
And þerfore by resoune array þe,
Do telle vs some poynte for thy prowe,
Heris þou not what y saie þe?
Þou mummeland myghtyng, I may þe
Helpe and turne þe fro tene, as y trowe.

ii Fil.
Loke vppe, ladde, lightly and loute to my lorde here,
For fro bale vnto blisse he may nowe þe borowe;
Carpe on knave cautely and caste þe to corde here,
And saie me nowe somwhat, þou sauterell with sorowe.
Why standis þou as still as a stone here?
Spare not, but speke in þis place here,
Þou gedlyng! it may gayne þe some grace here.
My lorde, þis faitour is so ferde in youre face here,
None aunswere in þis nede he nevyns you with none here.

iii Fil.
Do bewscheris, for Beliall bloode and his bonys,
Say somwhat or it will waxe werre.

i Fil.
Nay we gete nouȝt one worde in þis wonys.

ii Fil.
Do crie we all on hym at onys, Oȝes! Oȝes! Oȝes!

Rex.
O! ȝe make a foule noyse for þe nonys.

iii Fil.
Nedlyng my lorde, it is neuere þe nerre.

i Fil.
My lorde, all youre mutyng amendis not a myte,
To medill with a madman is meruaille to me,
Comaunde youre knyghtis to clothe hym in white,
And late hym carre as he come to youre contre.

Rex.
Lo sirs, we lede you no lenger a lite,
Mi sone has saide sadly how þat it schuld be;
But such a poynte for a page is to parfite.

i Dux.
Mi lorde, fooles þat are fonde þei falle such a fee.

Rex.
What! in a white garmente to goo,
Þus gayly girde in a gowne?

ii Dux.
Nay lorde, but as a foole forcid hym froo.

Rex.
How saie ȝe, sirs, schulde it be soo?

Al chylder.
Ȝa, lord.

[Rex.]

i Dux.
We will with a goode will for his wedis wende,
For we wotte wele anowe what wedis he schall were.

ii Dux.
Loo! here is an haterell here at youre hent,
Alle facionnd þerfore foolis to feere.

i Miles.
Loo! here a jappon of joie,
All such schulde be gode for a boy,

i Dux.
He schalle be rayed like a Roye,
And schall be fonne in his folie.

[They robe him.
ii Dux.
We! thanke þam, euyll motte þou the!

i Miles.
Nay we gete noȝt a worde, wele y warand.

ii Miles.
Man, mustir some meruaile to me.

i Dux.
What! wene ȝe he be wiser þan we.
Leffe we and late þe Kyng see,
Howe it is forcyd and farand.
Mi lorde, loke yf ȝe be paied,/For we haue getyn hym his gere.

Rex.

i Dux.
[Crys in the court.]
O yes! if any wight with þis wriche any werse wate
Werkis, beris wittenesse who so wirkis wrang,
Buske boldely to þe barre, his balis to a-bate,
For my lorde, be my lewte, will not be deland!
[To Herod.]
My lorde, here apperes none to appeyre his estate.

Rex.
Wele þanne fallis hym goo free.
Sir knyghtis, þanne grathis you goodly to gange,
And repaire with youre present and saie to Pilate,
We graunte hym oure frenschippe all fully to fang.

i Miles.
My lorde, with youre leue þis way schall we lere,
Vs likis no lenger here to abide.

ii Miles.
Mi lorde, and he worþe ought in were,
We come agayne with goode chere.

Rex.
Nay bewscheris, ȝe fynde vs not here,
Oure leue will we take at þis tyde.
And rathely araye vs to reste,/For such notis has noyed vs or nowe.

i Dux.
Ȝa, certis lorde, so holde y beste,/For þis gedlyng vngoodly has greued you.

ii Dux.
Loke ȝe bere worde as ye wotte,
Howe wele we haue quitte vs þis while.

i Miles.
We! wise men will deme it we dote,
But if we make ende of oure note.

Rex.

i Miles.
Mi lorde, with youre leue, late hym be,
For all to longe ledde hym haue we.

ii Miles.
What! ȝe sirs, my lorde will ȝe see?

Rex.
What! felawes, take ȝe no tente what I telle you
And bid you? þat yoman ye ȝeme.

ii Miles.
Mi lorde, we schall wage hym an ill way.

Rex.
Nay bewscheris, be not so bryme,
Fare softely, for so will it seme.

i Miles.
Nowe sen we schall do as ye deme,
A dewe, sir!

Rex.
Daunce on, in þe deuyll way!