 | A treatyse of the smyth whych that forged hym a new dame |  |
The seconde fytte.
Whan our lorde was gone,
The smyth rathely and anone
Called on hys dame Jone
And bad her com on fast.
Anone she aunswered tho:
“Thou wotest I may not go,
Wherto cryest thou so?
Is thy wytte past?
I am croked and also lame,
And now to go it is no shame(!),
Age doth me muche grame,
Me thynketh my bones brast.
Thou wotest well I may no(t) se,
Almost I am as blynde as a be;
And yf I bye me, truely,
To fall I am agast”.
The smyth rathely and anone
Called on hys dame Jone
And bad her com on fast.
Anone she aunswered tho:
“Thou wotest I may not go,
Wherto cryest thou so?
Is thy wytte past?
I am croked and also lame,
And now to go it is no shame(!),
Age doth me muche grame,
Me thynketh my bones brast.
Thou wotest well I may no(t) se,
Almost I am as blynde as a be;
And yf I bye me, truely,
To fall I am agast”.
The smyth hande on her layd:
“Come forth, dame! he sayd,
Thou shalt be made at a brayd
Younge and lusty agayne.
Thy dame is yonge agayne, i-wys,
She is mended of her mysse,
Her rudde redder it is
Than the rose is in rayne”.
“That is a lye, quod she,
I fayth, that wyl never be!
She is blynde of that one eye,
Her bones are unbayne”.
The smyth sayd: “Lo! she is here,
The swete dame that the bere:
She is lovesome of chere,
Wythouten any layne”.
“Come forth, dame! he sayd,
Thou shalt be made at a brayd
Younge and lusty agayne.
Thy dame is yonge agayne, i-wys,
She is mended of her mysse,
Her rudde redder it is
Than the rose is in rayne”.
“That is a lye, quod she,
I fayth, that wyl never be!
She is blynde of that one eye,
Her bones are unbayne”.
The smyth sayd: “Lo! she is here,
The swete dame that the bere:
She is lovesome of chere,
Wythouten any layne”.
“Art thou my mother?” sayd she.
“Ye”, sayd she, “truely”.
Than sayd she: “Benedicite!
Who hath made the thus?”
Anone to her gan she say:
“I was made thus to-daye
Wyth one that came by the waye,
Men call hys name Jesus”.
“Now truely, than sayd she,
He hath amended well thy ble;
For yesterday, so mote I the,
Thou were a foule sose”.
“Dame, sayd the smyth tho,
I can make the yonge so,
Had I a fyre brennynge blo.
But now thou must helpe us”.
“Ye”, sayd she, “truely”.
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Who hath made the thus?”
Anone to her gan she say:
“I was made thus to-daye
Wyth one that came by the waye,
Men call hys name Jesus”.
“Now truely, than sayd she,
He hath amended well thy ble;
For yesterday, so mote I the,
Thou were a foule sose”.
“Dame, sayd the smyth tho,
I can make the yonge so,
Had I a fyre brennynge blo.
But now thou must helpe us”.
Than the smyth at a brayed
A quarter of coles on he layed:
“Let us blowe nowe, he sayed,
Tyl all be on glede!
And thou shalt se, dame, in hy
A crafte for the maystry;
Full fewe men can it but I,
I tell the trouthe, indede”.
“Why, what wylt thou do with me?”
“Dame, brenne the” sayd he.
“Nay, not so, sayd she,
Chryst it forbede!
To brenne me, were a shrewde game:
Wottest not thou, knave, whome I am?
Thefe, I am thyne owne dame!
Evyll mote thou spede!
A quarter of coles on he layed:
“Let us blowe nowe, he sayed,
Tyl all be on glede!
And thou shalt se, dame, in hy
A crafte for the maystry;
Full fewe men can it but I,
I tell the trouthe, indede”.
“Why, what wylt thou do with me?”
“Dame, brenne the” sayd he.
“Nay, not so, sayd she,
Chryst it forbede!
To brenne me, were a shrewde game:
Wottest not thou, knave, whome I am?
Thefe, I am thyne owne dame!
Evyll mote thou spede!
Traytour, and thou brenne me,
Thou shalt be hanged on a tree.
My malyson I gyve thee,
Woldest thou me slo:
God let thee never eate brede,
Woldest thou have thy dam dede.
Touche me not, I the rede,
For bothe thyne eyen two!
The fyrst tyme I thee see,
I wolde I had throtled thee,
Now thou woldest brenne me
And werke me thys wo!
I tell thee, by sweete saynt John,
Thou shalt have my malyson,
But thy hamer anone
Thou cast thee fro.
Thou shalt be hanged on a tree.
My malyson I gyve thee,
Woldest thou me slo:
God let thee never eate brede,
Woldest thou have thy dam dede.
Touche me not, I the rede,
For bothe thyne eyen two!
The fyrst tyme I thee see,
I wolde I had throtled thee,
Now thou woldest brenne me
And werke me thys wo!
I tell thee, by sweete saynt John,
Thou shalt have my malyson,
But thy hamer anone
Thou cast thee fro.
Moche wo hast thou wrought;
I kept the when thou were nought,
Fostred and forth the brought,
Full oft dyd I wake”.
“Dame, sayd the smyth, I trowe,
Olde shrewe, it is for thy prowe
That on thys wyse nowe
Yonge I shall thee make.
Anone se that thou shall:
Had I my hamer and mi mall,
I wolde make the full tall
And yonge, I undertake”.
He layed hande on her tho.
Than she spurned at hym so
That hys shynnes bothe two
In-sonder she there brake.
I kept the when thou were nought,
Fostred and forth the brought,
Full oft dyd I wake”.
“Dame, sayd the smyth, I trowe,
Olde shrewe, it is for thy prowe
That on thys wyse nowe
Yonge I shall thee make.
Anone se that thou shall:
Had I my hamer and mi mall,
I wolde make the full tall
And yonge, I undertake”.
He layed hande on her tho.
Than she spurned at hym so
That hys shynnes bothe two
In-sonder she there brake.
Than the smyth began to stare
And sayd: “God gyve the care!
What aylest thee thus to fare?
I trowe thou art wode!
Yonge ful soone I can make thee,
And that anone thou shalt se;
I am waxen now full crafty,
I tell thee, by the rode!
Thou spendest now and mai not pay,
Thou hast lyen full many a day
By the wall, for sothe I thee say,
And can do no good”.
Full fast the fyre gan he blow,
And sayd: “Be thou never so throw,
I shal amende the sonne, I trow,
Of bone and eke of bloud”.
And sayd: “God gyve the care!
What aylest thee thus to fare?
I trowe thou art wode!
Yonge ful soone I can make thee,
And that anone thou shalt se;
I am waxen now full crafty,
I tell thee, by the rode!
Thou spendest now and mai not pay,
Thou hast lyen full many a day
By the wall, for sothe I thee say,
And can do no good”.
Full fast the fyre gan he blow,
And sayd: “Be thou never so throw,
I shal amende the sonne, I trow,
Of bone and eke of bloud”.
She sayde: “Syr, by saynt Jhone,
Of thy mendyng kepe I none.
Therfore let me alone
And touche me no more!”
“Yes, sayde he, that I mote.
Come forthe, olde dote!”
She catched hym by the throte,
That bloud out gan fare.
As he drew her nere,
She set her fote agaynst a spere,
And sayd: “Thefe, wylt thou me dere?
God gyve the care!”
He cast her on the smythes stocke,
And than she hent hym by the locke
And gave hym many a great knocke,
She spared not the bare.
Of thy mendyng kepe I none.
Therfore let me alone
And touche me no more!”
“Yes, sayde he, that I mote.
Come forthe, olde dote!”
She catched hym by the throte,
That bloud out gan fare.
As he drew her nere,
She set her fote agaynst a spere,
And sayd: “Thefe, wylt thou me dere?
God gyve the care!”
He cast her on the smythes stocke,
And than she hent hym by the locke
327
She spared not the bare.
Ever she sporned wyth her fote;
In hande a hamer she gate
And knocked hym above the pate:
The bloud gan out-brast.
And she carped at hym then,
“Strong thefe, she sayd, I shall the ken
Thyne owne dame for to brenne!”
She bette upon him fast.
There she had welny
Stryken out his one eye—
Though the smyth bygge be,
Of her he was abasshed.
Stefly on her fete she stode
And smote on him as she were wode;
The smyth ranne on reed blode,
All to-rent and rasshed.
In hande a hamer she gate
And knocked hym above the pate:
The bloud gan out-brast.
And she carped at hym then,
“Strong thefe, she sayd, I shall the ken
Thyne owne dame for to brenne!”
She bette upon him fast.
There she had welny
Stryken out his one eye—
Though the smyth bygge be,
Of her he was abasshed.
Stefly on her fete she stode
And smote on him as she were wode;
The smyth ranne on reed blode,
All to-rent and rasshed.
The smyth at a brayd
Wolde her in the fyre have layd.
“Nay, thefe, tho she sayd,
Yet wyl I not come there.
“Helpe, some good man, sayd she,
Thys thefe wyl brenne me!”
Anone than full myghtely
She caught hym by the heer;
Of his lockes gan she pull
Many great handfull,
Rent the skyn from the skull,
The pan gan appeare.
She sayd: “Thefe, lette me go!
Wylt thou thy dame slo?”
Loude out cryed she tho,
That many a man myght here.
Wolde her in the fyre have layd.
“Nay, thefe, tho she sayd,
Yet wyl I not come there.
“Helpe, some good man, sayd she,
Thys thefe wyl brenne me!”
Anone than full myghtely
She caught hym by the heer;
Of his lockes gan she pull
Many great handfull,
Rent the skyn from the skull,
The pan gan appeare.
She sayd: “Thefe, lette me go!
Wylt thou thy dame slo?”
Loude out cryed she tho,
That many a man myght here.
The smyth than in hast
Water on the coles cast,
The fyre he blewe full fast
And made it brenne full bryght.
The smyth, angred wyth that,
Cast her in the fyre flat;
All-way fast gan she scrat
At hym wyth all her myght.
Into the fyre he her thrast
And sayd: “I holde thy wytte past.
Olde shrowe, at the last
Thou shalt be newe dyght”.
Whan he had smored her in the smok,
Out of the fyre he her toke:
She had none eyen for to loke,
For lost was her syght.
Water on the coles cast,
The fyre he blewe full fast
And made it brenne full bryght.
The smyth, angred wyth that,
Cast her in the fyre flat;
All-way fast gan she scrat
At hym wyth all her myght.
Into the fyre he her thrast
And sayd: “I holde thy wytte past.
Olde shrowe, at the last
Thou shalt be newe dyght”.
Whan he had smored her in the smok,
Out of the fyre he her toke:
She had none eyen for to loke,
For lost was her syght.
He laide her on the stythe alonge
And wyth an hamer he on throng,
That both her armes of spronge.
Than waxed he unfayne,
And sayd: “So ever eate I meate,
Thou shalt have a better heate”.
Mo coles gan he gete,
To blowe he was full fayne.
The fyre sparkeled and spronge,
He cast on water sometymes amonge,
And sayd: “Yet I hope to make the yonge,
Wythout any layne”.
Than he hent her up on hy
And layed her on the stethy
And hamered her strongely
With strokes that were ungayne.
And wyth an hamer he on throng,
That both her armes of spronge.
Than waxed he unfayne,
And sayd: “So ever eate I meate,
Thou shalt have a better heate”.
Mo coles gan he gete,
To blowe he was full fayne.
The fyre sparkeled and spronge,
He cast on water sometymes amonge,
And sayd: “Yet I hope to make the yonge,
Wythout any layne”.
Than he hent her up on hy
And layed her on the stethy
And hamered her strongely
With strokes that were ungayne.
Fast on her he layed,
“Waxe yong, dame!” he sayd.
Than bothe her legges at a brayd
Fell sone her fro.
“What, evyll hayle! sayd he,
Wylt not thou yonge be?
Speke now, let me se,
And say ones bo!”
Than he toke her by the heed
And sayd: “Dame, art thou deed?
Speke now in thys steed
And say ye or els nay!
Though both thy legges be awai,
Yet speke, pardy, thou may.
Say on, dame, I the pray,
Felest thou any wo?
“Waxe yong, dame!” he sayd.
Than bothe her legges at a brayd
Fell sone her fro.
“What, evyll hayle! sayd he,
Wylt not thou yonge be?
Speke now, let me se,
And say ones bo!”
Than he toke her by the heed
And sayd: “Dame, art thou deed?
Speke now in thys steed
And say ye or els nay!
Though both thy legges be awai,
Yet speke, pardy, thou may.
Say on, dame, I the pray,
Felest thou any wo?
Dame, I have lost on the
Moche labour truely;
Now and thou deed be,
So fayre must me befall”.
Loud on her he can cry
And sayde: “Dame, speke on hye,
Or by my trouth, truely
Brenne thee up I shall.
What? canst thou nothyng say?
I holde thee deed by this day”.
Her arme anone he threw away
Even agaynst the wall.
And lyghtly his way he went than,
After Jesu fast he ran,
As he had ben a madde man,
And full fast kan hym call,
Moche labour truely;
Now and thou deed be,
So fayre must me befall”.
Loud on her he can cry
And sayde: “Dame, speke on hye,
Or by my trouth, truely
Brenne thee up I shall.
What? canst thou nothyng say?
I holde thee deed by this day”.
328
Even agaynst the wall.
And lyghtly his way he went than,
After Jesu fast he ran,
As he had ben a madde man,
And full fast kan hym call,
And sayd: “For saynt charyte,
Abyde nowe and speke wyth me!
But thou me helpe, truely,
My c[illeg.]es are full colde.
My owne dame I have slayne,
I wolde have made her yonge agayne—
All my laboure was in vayne,
Her legges wolde not holde”.
Our lorde sayd verament:
“Hast thou thy dame brent?”
He sayd: “Lorde, she is shent,
But yf thou helpe wolde”.
Our lorde sayd: “Go we full yare.
Yet I bad the longe eare
Of suche craft to beware
And be not to bolde!”
Abyde nowe and speke wyth me!
But thou me helpe, truely,
My c[illeg.]es are full colde.
My owne dame I have slayne,
I wolde have made her yonge agayne—
All my laboure was in vayne,
Her legges wolde not holde”.
Our lorde sayd verament:
“Hast thou thy dame brent?”
He sayd: “Lorde, she is shent,
But yf thou helpe wolde”.
Our lorde sayd: “Go we full yare.
Yet I bad the longe eare
Of suche craft to beware
And be not to bolde!”
“A, good lorde, sayd he,
I crye the hartely mercy;
I wolde have wrought after the
And learned of thy lore”.
Sayd our lorde: “Go thy way!
Now thou doest me pray,
I shall helpe that I maye
Her for to restore”.
Anone as he her se,
He blessed her full fayrely
And bad her stande upon hy:
Anone she rose up there.
She semed younge and not olde,
Bryght as blossome her to beholde,
Fayrer by a thosand folde
Than she was before;
I crye the hartely mercy;
I wolde have wrought after the
And learned of thy lore”.
Sayd our lorde: “Go thy way!
Now thou doest me pray,
I shall helpe that I maye
Her for to restore”.
Anone as he her se,
He blessed her full fayrely
And bad her stande upon hy:
Anone she rose up there.
She semed younge and not olde,
Bryght as blossome her to beholde,
Fayrer by a thosand folde
Than she was before;
She was whyte as a bone of whale,
Bryghter then berall.
Than to the earth gan she fall
And thanked god intere.
The smyth had good game
And fetched forth hys beldame.
Than they all thre in-same
Kneled there in-fere
And helde up theyr hands on hy(ght)
And thanked god wyth all theyr mygh(t)
That he had them so dyght
And mended theyr chere.
Our lorde sayd to the smyth tho:
“Loke, thou brenne never mo!
For this craft, I shal tel the,
Can thou never lere.
Bryghter then berall.
Than to the earth gan she fall
And thanked god intere.
The smyth had good game
And fetched forth hys beldame.
Than they all thre in-same
Kneled there in-fere
And helde up theyr hands on hy(ght)
And thanked god wyth all theyr mygh(t)
That he had them so dyght
And mended theyr chere.
Our lorde sayd to the smyth tho:
“Loke, thou brenne never mo!
For this craft, I shal tel the,
Can thou never lere.
But here a poynt I gyve the:
The mayster shalt thou yet be
Of all thy craft truely
Wythout any delay;
What man of craft soever be,
And he have no helpe of the,
Thoughe he be never so sle,
Warke not he may”.
Than our lorde forth went
And bad the smyth take good tent
That he no mo folke brent,
By nyght nor yet by day.
Our lorde thus forth gan go
And left them togyther so,
And dyd many a mervayle mo
In dyvers countreis.
The mayster shalt thou yet be
Of all thy craft truely
Wythout any delay;
What man of craft soever be,
And he have no helpe of the,
Thoughe he be never so sle,
Warke not he may”.
Than our lorde forth went
And bad the smyth take good tent
That he no mo folke brent,
By nyght nor yet by day.
Our lorde thus forth gan go
And left them togyther so,
And dyd many a mervayle mo
In dyvers countreis.
He made many a croked ryght
And gave blynd men agayne theyr syght,
Dead men throughe hys myght
He raysed full sone agayne,
Leprous made he clere,
Defe men for to here,
And other sycknesses in-fere
He heled them certayne:
All sycke men that to hym sought
And to hym that were brought,
And loved lely in theyr thought,
And were losed of theyr payne.
Pray we all to hym thys
That suche a lord is:
That he brynge us to blys
That never shall mys.
And gave blynd men agayne theyr syght,
Dead men throughe hys myght
He raysed full sone agayne,
Leprous made he clere,
Defe men for to here,
And other sycknesses in-fere
He heled them certayne:
All sycke men that to hym sought
And to hym that were brought,
And loved lely in theyr thought,
And were losed of theyr payne.
Pray we all to hym thys
That suche a lord is:
That he brynge us to blys
That never shall mys.
Amen.
| A treatyse of the smyth whych that forged hym a new dame | |