Handlyng Synne :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ȝyt þyr ys a properte,
Þat euer ylyke þy shryfte shal be;
As ofte as þou yn synne doust falle,
As oftë rys vp fro hem alle,
Nat, wyþ no feyntyse,
with verry shryftë shalt þou ryse.

Baptem, fro Adams synne vs drewe,
But shryfte clenseþ vs euery day newe;
we synful mow þarfore be bolde;
To vs ys shryfte a blysful holde;
As ofte as þou to shryfte art went,
As ofte helpeþ þe, þe sacrament:
Here-of spekeþ Isayë
A wurde yn hys prophesye,
“whan man haþ fylled hys soule with ylle

384

Þurgh hys ownë wykked wylle,
y rede hym þat he oftë synge
wurschyp vn-to oure heuene kynge.”
Þys song to mene, yn my resoun,
Ys trewë shryfte, and oftë doun.
Þyr ys no þyng þat man may neuene,
Þat more stereþ God of heuene,
Of vs synful to haue mercy,
Þan doþ shryfte, þere hyt ys do trewly.

385

who so syngeþ to God with shryfte,
For hys song he ȝyueþ hym a ȝyfte;
Hys ȝyfte ys ioye with-outyn wo,
Þat þe fendë was kast fro.

On many maner myȝt men proue
How shryfte ys gode to oure byhoue;
But longe hyt werë for to dwelle,
Þe propertees, alle for to telle,
But touche y wyl, two or þre,
Þat ȝe mow weyl warned be.

386

That þou falle nat yn wanhope.

Haue no wanhope, for no maner of kas;
Be nat lyke Kaym ne Iudas.
Þe werst þarfore, y wylle fyrst grope,
Þat man kalle ‘wanhope:’
Al tymes ys God more wroþer with þys
Þan with any oþer þyng þat ys;
Þyr ys no synne þat men of rede,
Só moche withseyþ þe godhede;
For wanhope wenyþ þat þe foly
Be more þan Goddës mercy;
And ȝyf þou wene þat synne be more,
Þou wenest þat þe godhede, so moche ne wore,
Ne had so mochë myȝt hym ynne,
Þat hyt myȝt fórȝyue alle þy synne.

Se how wanhope, man wyl shende
Aȝens þe godhede with-outyn ende!
Hyt ys no wundyr, þogh he be wroþe;
Hyt aȝenseyþ hys myȝt & hys mercy boþe.

Swych shryfte madë wreched Kaym,
whan he hadde hys broþer slayn;
‘Of God,’ he seyd, ‘he was nat wurþy,
For hys grete synne, to haue mercy.’
For hys wanhope, þat foule glotoun,
God ȝaue hym hys malysun;
And alle þo, þat trowe synne may be
Morë þan Goddës pyte.

And swych shryftë, made Iudas;
He shrouë hym of hys trespas,
He hadde grete sorowe and contrycyun
Þat he ded hys lorde tresun;
Þer-of he repented hym so gretly,
he ȝede and hyng hym self ful hy;
He shroue hym with grete répentaunce,

387

But of Goddys mercy he hadde none affyaunce.

Here mowe ȝe se, þat shryfte and sorowe
Alle only may no man borowe,
But he haue gode hope, whan he ys shryue,
Þat hys synne shal be forȝyue:
Þys shal ȝe beleue, with-outë nay,
Þat, God wyl forȝyue, and may.

An holy man þys samë spelleþ
Þat of Iudas wanhope telleþ,
‘For hys wanhope, God wroþer was,
Þan for hys tresun or ouþer trespas;
Hys wanhope toke he more to grefe,
Þan hys takyng, as a þefe.’

Ihesu, ful of mercy mylde,
Fro wanhope vs allë shylde,
And graunte vs alle swych hope & stedfast trouþe
þat þy mercy on vs haue rouþe!

That þou excuse nat þy synne.

Ȝyt þer ys an vnþryfte
Þat doþ moche skaþe yn shryfte;
Þat þou defendest þe fro plyȝt,
And puttest þy synne on God almyȝt.
So dyd oure fadyr Adam,
whan God of heuene to hym cam,
And seyd, “Adam, why art þou yn synne?”
“lorde,” he seyd, “my wyfe made me bygynne;
Þat ychë wyfe þat þou me wroȝt,
She synned fyrst, and y noȝt.”

Seeþ how Adam bygan to lye,

388

And put on God hys owne folye!
For, God forbede þat tre,
Þat he ne shulde ete þer-of, ne she:
Seeþ how he ded, þat God forbede,
And dyd aftyr hys wyuës rede;
He wulde haue excused hys fame,
As who seyþ ‘God was to blame;’
Þese lewed men sey, and erre ful ylle,
And seye ‘hyt was alle Goddys wylle.’

Ȝyf þat hyt Goddys wyl shulde be,
why forbede he hym þat tre?
Hyt may nat be, for no nede,
Þat God wulde be do, he shulde forbede;
Syn he forbed, hyt shulde be noȝt,
Aȝens hys byddyng, Adam hyt wroȝt;
Þan hyt semeþ, hyt was but suffraunce,
Nat hys wyl, nat hys ordynaunce,
But lete hym haue alle hys fre wyl,
Hym self for to saue or spyl.

Nay, nay! Adam, alle mys ȝede,
On God to put alle hys mysdede,
As who seyþ ‘he shulde nat be shent,
But Eue brak þe commaundëment,
For she ȝaue hym þe appul here lete,
And God was gylty þat he hyt ete.’
He myȝt a fórsake, and seyd nay,
But whan he toke hyt, he brake þe lay.

Ȝyf a man me now forbede
þyng þat y ne shulde haue of dede,
y were to blame ȝyf y hyt toke;
Bettyr were fyrst þat y hyt forsoke;
So myȝt Adam haue hyt forsake,
For God for-bede þat none shuld be take.
Syn he dyd þus aȝens hys forbode,
Ho dar sey hyt was þe wyl of God?

Ȝyt þyr are many þat þus seye,
Þat alle here wyte on God wul leye,

389

And tellë men þus apertly
Þey mow nat holdë fro foly,
And sey þey mowe nat lyuë chaste,
But nedly hym behoueþ do waste.

Y seye, as þe holy man seys,
He lyeþ apertely on alle weys;
For ȝyf þat he wulde do now folye
wyþ a womman yn lecherye,
And ȝyf a-noþer, hyt myȝt se,
At þat tyme he wulde late be;
He ne letteþ for Goddes comaundement,
But for hym þat þere ys present.

Alle þo þat sey ‘hem byhoueþ nedely,’
Þey acoupe God of here folye.
why shulde he þat þyng forbede,
Þat nedely moste be do yn dede?
hyt were foly, comaunde a þyng
Þat myȝt nat ȝyue no warantyng.

yn twey þynges, wykkedly þey sey,
Þat on God here blame alle leye;
Lyers algate þey are strong;
A-noþer, þey hepe on God here wrong;
wykkedly þey synne on þese maners,
Þey make hym wers þan ben here peres.

That þou make nat þy synne lytyl to seme.

Make nat þy synne, lytyl to seme;
Telle smale and grete, ȝyf þou God queme.

Ȝyt þer ys an enchesun
ys kalled ‘dymynucyun’:
On englys, hyt ys to mene,
To make þy synne lytyl to seme;
Hyt ys to mene also anoþer þyng,

390

Of þy synne to make shedyng;
And þys may be on two manere,
whan hyt shuld be hole and clere:—
whan þou tellest but þe grete,
þe smalë synnes þan wylt þou lete;
þese clerkys kalle hem ‘cyrcumstauncys,’
To þe grete synnes are þey puruyaunces;
þou puruéyst fyrst, yn þy þoȝt
How þe grete synnes shulde be wroȝt;
Oftyn tyme, a foule þoȝt and an yl,
wyþ lykyng þer-yn, gadereþ a wyl
Aftyr þat wyl, cumþ a syȝt;
Aftyr a syghte, a speche ful ryȝt;
weytyng yn wey, and þarto ȝyftes;
Alle þese, to þe dede a man lyftes;
Alle þese kalle men ‘cyrcumstaunces,’
Þat vn-to þe grete dede men haunces.

Lo here ensample of oure tale;
Þou sëest stykkës þat are smale,
Þey brenne fyrst, feyre and shyre,
To brynge þe grete stokkes sone on fyre:
Ryȝt so do þése smale, þe with-ynne,
A gretë synnë to bygynne;
Þarfore y warne þe, yn þy lyfe,
Of swychë smale þat þou þe shryue;
For ȝyf þou for-hele hem with þy wyl,
So mayst þou þy soulë spyl.

Ryȝt so fareþ forholen synne,
As fyre, borë bosum ynne;
At þe lastë, hyt hym dereþ,
And brennyþ þat hym aboutë bereþ;
For no synne may be hyd,
Þat hyt ne behoueþ opunly be kyd;

391

Ȝyf hyt be shewed here apert,
Yn ouþer stede hyt ys couert;
And ȝyf þou hydë here þy blame,
hyt shal be shewed to þy shame.

Seynt Austyn seyþ a wurde to charge,
Of Goddys ȝyfte, how hyt ys large:
“Shryueþ ȝoure dedës and ȝoure þoȝt,
For God forȝyueþ alle or noȝt;
Oþer forȝyueþ he alle with gladehede,
Or alle abydeþ to hys wraþhede.
Ȝyf þou be allë fully shryue,
Forsoþe þan be þey all forȝyue;
Ȝyf þou þe shryue of alle but one,
Noþer he forȝyueþ þat, ne none.”

Yn ryȝt resun þese clerkys telle,
yn þat stede þere God shal dwelle
Plenerly, hyt behoueþ be clene,
Þat no synnë mowe be sene.
whan synne ys shryue, and clene eche deyl
Þere wyl God, holde hys hostele;
Þe mantel of loue ys leyd ful euene,
Þat heleþ Ihesu and kyng of heuene.
Yn o stede ne mowe þey reste;
God or þe fendë, outë keste;
One of þese, behoueþ þe chese;
Take þe toon, þe touþer þou lese.
Y wulde holde hym more þan wode,
Þat cheseþ þe wykked, and leueþ þe gode.
Take we God on oure party,
And fle we þe fendës cumpany.

That þou make no skornyng yn shryfte.

Skorne nat, and seye þou wylt forsake
Þy synne, and eft aȝen hyt take.

392

Ȝyt wyl y warne þe of o þyng,
Yn shryftë make þou no skornyng.
Lytyl mayst þou spede þat whyle,
Ȝyf þou shryuë þe with gyle;
For ȝyf þou make þy shryftë feynt,
Sykyr þou be, þou shalt be a-teynt,
whan [þat] þou art nat yn wyl
Þe to wyþdrawë fro þyn yl.

what doust þou byfore þe prest,
And, hast déseyt yn þy brest?
Asoyled mayst þou neuer be,
But þou wylt þy synnë fle.
with skornë wenest þou þe quyte
As a fals ypocryte,
Þat þou holdest nat cunnaunt,
þat þou hetest and takest an hand.

A lytyl tale y wyl ȝow telle,
How he was shryue, þe fende of helle.

[The Tale of how the Devil came to be Shriven.]

An holy man, þat God was dere,
Onës sat, shryftë to here;
To hym come þe fende of helle,
Yn form of a man, hys synne to telle;—
Þe holy man wende hyt had be
A man yn flessh as he dyd se;
On hys knees he sett hym downe,
with þe prest, for to roune,
And tolde hys wykkednes ful bostely.
Þe gode man lestned, þat satte hym by;
He seyde, “y haue be yn þe se;
Þere þre þousend shyppes were dreynt þurgh me;

393

“And alle þe folk with-outë numbre,
Allë broȝt y hem to kumbre;
Aboue, yn-to þe wynde y wente,
And broȝt hem alle to þat turment;
On land y haue do more tresun
wyþ fyre and slaghtyr yn euery toune,
And alle þe skaþe y myȝt of mone,
Tó hem þat yn borwës wone;
y haue made wraþþe and euyl wyl
Betwyxë hem þat wulde none yl,
And sle echoun ouþer at here myȝt,
More with wrong, þan with ryȝt.

“Yn pryde, yn Ire, yn enuye,
yn slouþë, and yn coueytyse,
yn glotonye, and yn lecherye,
Y delyte me yn euery vyleynye;
Foule flessh dedes þat are ouer rank,
More þan ouþer y take to þank;
But, pryde algate, and coueytyse,
Y may nat leue, ne none of þyse;
Ten þousend men dampned be
Yn þese two, for loue of me;
when y fynde hem custummably
Yn þese two synnës alle redy,
Ful weyl payeþ me þat synne,
And bounde are þey to me þer-ynne;
Þan do þey, ryȝt as y wyl,
Allë wrong wyþ-outë skylle;
Fro wykked to wers, y do hem falle,
For y am mayster ouer hem alle;
Ȝyf þey wulde wake, y do hem slepe,
And yn ydulnes to lepe;
For whan þey are yn beddë broȝt,
y do hem synne yn ydul þoȝt;
yn þoȝt of folye, and foule delyte,

394

“I do hem þenkë þan ful tyte.

“Certes y may nat telle hyt alle,
þe synne þat y haue do, and more shal.
Cryst, loue y neuer a deyl,
Ne none þat on hym byleueþ weyl,
For, yn euery dedly synne
y am bounde, and may nat blynne.

“Y dyd neuer commaundement
þat God vn-to þe folk haþ sent.
Þe sacramentys of holy cherche,
y loued hem neuer, ne neuer wulde werche.
Pryue synne and sacrylage,
Þat loue y moste, and rycolage.
holy cherche, despyse and fyle,
þat wyl y bleþly, alle my whyle.”

[_]

tyme

þe holy man, lestnë bygan,
And, had wundyr of þat o man
Þat he myȝt so moche synnë do,
As he a-couped hym self vn-to:
Þe godë man, for alle þys chaunce,
Sagh yn hym no répentaunce,
Ne no sorowe made of contrycyun
For no synne þat he had doun.
He seyd, “hast þou any shame of þy synne
Þat þou hást be so moche ynne?”

Þe fende answered to hym aȝen:
“Wytë þou weyl for certeyn,
Þere y dyd but one or two,
Y wulde haue do twenty and mo.”
“Þan art þou,” he seyd, “a wykked deuyl,
Þat þou repentest þe of none euyl.”
“Ȝe, certeys,” he seyd, “so y am,
A fende of helle, to þe y cam.”
“Y coniure þe þat þou me telle—
Syn þou art a fende of helle—
For what maner þyng a lyue,

395

“Þat þou come hedyr, þe to shryue?”
“Now behoueþ me nedely
Telle þe euerydel, and why.

“Y se men come to shryfte so þykke,—
Of some, here soules as blak as pykke,
And as grymly on to se
As any fende yn helle may be,—
Þo samë men, when þey are shryue,
So moche bryȝtnes ys hem ȝyue,
Þat no sonnë ys so bryȝt
As here soules yn Goddys syȝt.
Y wyst my self hydus and blak,
And no þyng haþ so mochë lak;
Þurgh my shryfte, y wende to spede,
To haue turned so bryȝt as ouþer ȝede.”

“Þou art dyceyued, foule treytoure!
Þy shryfte may haue no swyche onour;
Hyt may neuer do þe pru,
Þe feyrehede of shryfte, ne þe vertu.
Þo þat þou sawe so blak with-ynne,
Þey are repentaunt of here synne,
And are now come to ryȝt gode wyl,
To do penaunce, and no more yl;
And þurgh þe shryfte þat þey haue take,
Þey are asoyled, and synne forsake.
Þere-of cumþ alle here beute
Yn here soules, as þou mayst se;
But þou þat hast no répentaunce,
But loue and lykyng yn cumbraunce,
To feyrehede shalt þou neuer wende,
But blak and foule wyþ-outyn ende;
A deuyl þou come; to Satan þou go!

396

To þat sorowe þat þou come fro.”
he wente a-wey, alle for-lore,
A deuyl, as he was byfore.

Þarfore, gode men, wyte ȝe weyl,
Shryfte saueþ nat a-lone eche dyl,
But ȝe haue gode répentaunce,
And of foryȝuenes gode affyaunce,
And yn gode wyl, ȝow to withholde
Fro þe synnes þat byfore are tolde.

God graunte vs grace, swyche shryfte to make,
And for oure synne swyche penaunce take,
Þat we be neuer more a-teynt
For fals shryuyng, ne for feynt;
But graunte vs alle vs self to ȝeme,
And yn oure shryfte Ihesu to queme!

Amen!