The Castell of Perseverance

Worthy wytys in al þis werd wyde,
Be wylde wode wonys and euery weye-went,
Precyous prinse, prekyd in pride,
Þorwe þis propyr pleyn place in pes be ȝe bent!
Buske ȝou, bolde bachelerys, vndyr my baner to abyde
Where bryth basnetys be bateryd and backys ar schent.
Ȝe, syrys semly, all same syttyth on syde,
For bothe be see and be londe my sondys I haue sent,
Al þe world myn name is ment.
Al abowtyn my bane is blowe,
In euery cost I am knowe,
I do men rawyn on ryche rowe
Tyl þei be dyth to dethys dent.

Assarye, Acaye, and Almayne,
Cauadoyse, Capadoyse, and Cananee,
Babyloyne, Brabon, Burgoyne, and Bretayne,
Grece, Galys, and to þe Gryckysch See,
I meue also Masadoyne in my mykyl mayne,
Frauns, Flaundrys, and Freslonde, and also Normande,
Pyncecras, Parys, and longe Pygmayne,
And euery toun in Trage, euyn to þe Dreye Tre,
Rodys and ryche Rome.
All þese londys at myn avyse
Arn castyn to my werdly wyse.
My tresorer, Syr Coueytyse,
Hath sesyd hem holy to me.

Þerfor my game and my gle growe ful glad.
Þer is no wythe in þis werld þat my wytte wyl me warne.
Euery ryche rengne rapyth hym ful rad
In lustys and in lykyngys my lawys to lerne.
Wyth fayre folke in þe felde freschly I am fadde.
I dawnse doun as a doo be dalys ful derne.

What boy bedyth batayl or debatyth wyth blad
Hym were betyr to ben hangyn hye in hell herne
Or brent on lyth leuene.
Whoso spekyth aȝeyn þe Werd
In a presun he schal be sperd.
Myn hest is holdyn and herd
Into hyȝe heuene.

SCENE II

BELYAL.

Now I sytte, Satanas, in my sad synne,
As deuyl dowty, in draf as a drake.
I champe and I chafe, I chocke on my chynne,
I am boystows and bold, as Belyal þe blake.
What folk þat I grope þei gapyn and grenne,
Iwys fro Carlylle into Kent my carpynge þei take,
Bothe þe bak and þe buttoke brestyth al on brenne,
Wyth werkys of wreche I werke hem mykyl wrake.
In woo is al my wenne.
In care I am cloyed
And fowle I am anoyed
But Mankynde be stroyed
Be dykys and be denne.

Pryde is my prince in perlys ipyth;
Wretthe, þis wrecche, wyth me schal wawe;
Enuye into werre wyth me schal walkyn wyth;
Wyth þese faytourys I am fedde, in feyth I am fawe.
As a dyngne deuyl in my dene I am dyth.
Pryde, Wretthe, and Enuye, I sey in my sawe,
Kyngys, kayserys, and kempys and many a kene knyth,
Þese louely lordys han lernyd hem my lawe.
To my dene þei wyl drawe.
Alholy Mankynne
To helle but I wynne,
In bale is my bynne
And schent vndyr schawe.

On Mankynde is my trost, in contre iknowe,
Wyth my tyre and wyth my tayl tytly to tene.
Þorwe Flaundris and Freslonde faste I gan flowe,
Fele folke on a flokke to flappyn and to flene.
Where I graspe on þe grounde, grym þer schal growe.
Gadyr ȝou togedyr, ȝe boyis, on þis grene!
In þis brode bugyl a blast wanne I blowe,
Al þis werld schal be wood iwys as I wene
And to my byddynge bende.
Wythly on syde
On benche wyl I byde
To tene, þis tyde,
Alholy Mankende.

SCENE III

CARO.

I byde as a brod brustun-gutte abouyn on þese tourys.
Euerybody is þe betyr þat to myn byddynge is bent.
I am Mankyndys fayre Flesch, florchyd in flowrys.
My lyfe is wyth lustys and lykynge ilent.
Wyth tapytys of tafata I tymbyr my towrys.
In myrthe and in melodye my mende is iment.
Þou I be clay and clad, clappyd vndir clowrys,
Ȝyt wolde I þat my wyll in þe werld went,
Ful trew I ȝou behyth.
I loue wel myn ese,
In lustys me to plese;
Þou synne my sowle sese
I ȝeue not a myth.

In Glotony gracyous now am I growe;
Þerfore he syttyth semly here be my syde.
In Lechery and Lykynge lent am I lowe,
And Slawth, my swete sone, is bent to abyde.
Þese thre are nobyl, trewly I trowe,
Mankynde to tenyn and trecchyn a tyde.
Wyth many berdys in bowre my blastys are blowe,
Be weys and be wodys, þorwe þis werld wyde,

Þe sothe for to seyne.
But if mans Flesch fare wel
Bothe at mete and at mel,
Dyth I am in gret del
And browt into peyne.

And aftyr good fare in feyth þou I fell,
Þou I drywe to dust, in drosse for to drepe,
Þow my sely sowle were haryed to hell,
Woso wyl do þese werkys iwys he schal wepe
Euyr wythowtyn ende.
Behold þe Werld, þe Deuyl, and me!
Wyth all oure mythis we kyngys thre
Nyth and day besy we be
For to distroy Mankende
If þat we may.
Þerfor on hylle
Syttyth all stylle
And seth wyth good wylle
Oure ryche aray.

SCENE IV

HUMANUM GENUS.

Aftyr oure forme-faderys kende
Þis nyth I was of my modyr born.
Fro my modyr I walke, I wende,
Ful feynt and febyl I fare ȝou beforn.
I am nakyd of lym and lende
As Mankynde is schapyn and schorn.
I not wedyr to gon ne to lende
To helpe myself mydday nyn morn.
For schame I stonde and schende.
I was born þis nyth in blody ble
And nakyd I am, as ȝe may se.
A, Lord God in trinite,
Whow Mankende is vnthende!

Whereto I was to þis werld browth
I ne wot, but to woo and wepynge

I am born and haue ryth nowth
To helpe myself in no doynge.
I stonde and stodye al ful of þowth.
Bare and pore is my clothynge.
A sely crysme myn hed hath cawth
Þat I tok at myn crystenynge.
Certys I haue no more.
Of erthe I cam, I wot ryth wele,
And as erthe I stande þis sele.
Of Mankende it is gret dele.
Lord God, I crye þyne ore!

To aungels bene asynyd to me:
Þe ton techyth me to goode;
On my ryth syde ȝe may hym se;
He cam fro Criste þat deyed on rode.
Anoþyr is ordeynyd her to be
Þat is my foo, be fen and flode;
He is about in euery degre
To drawe me to þo dewylys wode
Þat in helle ben thycke.
Swyche to hath euery man on lyue
To rewlyn hym and hys wyttys fyue.
Whanne man doth ewyl, þe ton wolde schryue,
Þe tothyr drawyth to wycke.

But syn þese aungelys be to me falle,
Lord Jhesu, to ȝou I bydde a bone
Þat I may folwe, be strete and stalle,
Þe aungyl þat cam fro heuene trone.
Now, Lord Jesu in heuene halle,
Here whane I make my mone.
Coryows Criste, to ȝou I calle.
As a grysly gost I grucche and grone,
I wene, ryth ful of thowth.
A, Lord Jhesu, wedyr may I goo?
A crysyme I haue and no moo.
Alas, men may be wondyr woo
Whanne þei be fyrst forth browth.

BONUS ANGELUS.
Ȝa forsothe, and þat is wel sene.
Of woful wo man may synge,
For iche creature helpyth hymself bedene
Saue only man at hys comynge.
Neuyrþelesse turne þe fro tene
And serue Jhesu, heuene kynge,
And þou schalt, be greuys grene,
Fare wel in all thynge.
Þat Lord þi lyfe hath lante.
Haue hym alwey in þi mynde
Þat deyed on rode for Mankynde
And serue hym to þi lyfes ende
And sertys þou schalt not wante.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Pes, aungel, þi wordys are not wyse.
Þou counselyst hym not aryth.
He schal hym drawyn to þe Werdys seruyse
To dwelle wyth caysere, kynge, and knyth,
Þat in londe be hym non lyche.
Cum on wyth me, stylle as ston.
Þou and I to þe Werd schul goon
And þanne þou schalt sen anon
Whow sone þou schalt be ryche.

BONUS ANGELUS.
A, pes, aungel, þou spekyst folye.
Why schuld he coueyt werldys goode,
Syn Criste in erthe and hys meynye
All in pouert here þei stode?
Werldys wele, be strete and stye,
Faylyth and fadyth as fysch in flode,
But heueryche is good and trye,
Þer Criste syttyth bryth as blode,
Wythoutyn any dystresse.
To þe World wolde he not flyt
But forsok it euery whytt.
Example I fynde in holy wryt,
He wyl bere me wytnesse.

Diuicias et paupertates ne dederis michi, Domine.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Ȝa, ȝa, man, leue hym nowth,
But cum wyth me, be stye and strete.
Haue þou a gobet of þe werld cawth,
Þou schalt fynde it good and swete.
A fayre lady þe schal be tawth
Þat in bowre þi bale schal bete.
Wyth ryche rentys þou schalt be frawth,
Wyth sylke sendel to syttyn in sete.
I rede, late bedys be.
If þou wylt haue wel þyn hele
And faryn wel at mete and mele,
Wyth Goddys seruyse may þou not dele
But cum and folwe me.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Whom to folwe wetyn I ne may.
I stonde and stodye and gynne to raue.
I wolde be ryche in gret aray
And fayn I wolde my sowle saue.
As wynde in watyr I wave.
Þou woldyst to þe Werld I me toke,
And he wolde þat I it forsoke.
Now so God me helpe and þe holy boke,
I not wyche I may haue.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Cum on, man, whereof hast þou care?
Go we to þe Werld, I rede þe, blyue,
For þer þou schalt mow ryth wel fare,
In case if þou þynke for to thryue,
No lord schal be þe lyche.
Take þe Werld to þine entent
And late þi loue be þeron lent.
Wyth gold and syluyr and ryche rent
Anone þou schalt be ryche.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Now syn þou hast behetyn me so,
I wyl go wyth þe and asay.
I ne lette, for frende ner fo,
But wyth þe Werld I wyl go play,

Certys a lytyl þrowe.
In þis World is al my trust
To lyuyn in lykyng and in lust.
Haue he and I onys cust,
We schal not part, I trowe.

BONUS ANGELUS.
A, nay, man, for Cristys blod,
Cum agayn, be strete and style.
Þe Werld is wyckyd and ful wod
And þou schalt leuyn but a whyle.
What coueytyst þou to wynne?
Man, þynke on þyn endynge day
Whanne þou schalt be closyd vndyr clay,
And if þou thenke of þat aray,
Certys þou schalt not synne.

Homo, memento finis et in eternum non peccabis.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Ȝa, on þi sowle þou schalt þynke al betyme.
Cum forth, man, and take non hede.
Cum on, and þou schalt holdyn hym inne.
Þi flesch þou schalt foster and fede
Wyth lofly lyuys fode.
Wyth þe Werld þou mayst be bold
Tyl þou be sexty wyntyr hold.
Wanne þi nose waxit cold,
Þanne mayst þou drawe to goode.

HUMANUM GENUS.
I vow to God, and so I may
Make mery a ful gret throwe.
I may leuyn many a day;
I am but ȝonge, as I trowe,
For to do þat I schulde.
Myth I ryde be sompe and syke
And be ryche and lordlyke,
Certys þanne schulde I be fryke
And a mery man on molde.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Ȝys, be my feyth, þou schalt be a lord,
And ellys hange me be þe hals!

But þou muste be at myn acord.
Oþyrwhyle þou muste be fals
Amonge kythe and kynne.
Now go we forth swythe anon,
To þe Werld us must gon,
And bere þe manly euere among
Whanne þou comyst out or inne.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Ȝys, and ellys haue þou my necke,
But I be manly be downe and dyche;
And þou I be fals, I ne recke,
Wyth so þat I be lordlyche.
I folwe þe as I can.
Þou schalt be my bote of bale,
For were I ryche of holt and hale
Þanne wolde I ȝeue neuere tale
Of God ne of good man.

BONUS ANGELUS.
I weyle and wrynge and make mone.
Þis man wyth woo schal be pylt.
I sye sore and grysly grone
For hys folye schal make hym spylt.
I not wedyr to gone.
Mankynde hath forsakyn me.
Alas, man, for loue of the!
Ȝa, for þis gamyn and þis gle
Þou schalt grocchyn and grone.

Pipe vp musyk

SCENE V

MUNDUS.

Now I sytte in my semly sale;
I trotte and tremle in my trew trone;
As a hawke I hoppe in my hende hale;
Kyng, knyth, and kayser to me makyn mone.
Of God ne of good man ȝyf I neuere tale.
As a lykynge lord I leyke here alone.
Woso brawle any boste, be downe or be dale,
Þo gadlyngys schal be gastyd and gryslych grone

Iwys.
Lust, Foly, and Veynglory,
All þese arn in myn memory.
Þus begynnyth þe nobyl story
Of þis werldys blys.

Lust, Lykyng, and Foly,
Comly knytys of renoun,
Belyue þorwe þis londe do crye
Al abowtyn in toure and toun.
If any man be fer or nye
Þat to my seruyse wyl buske hym boun,
If he wyl be trost and trye
He schal be kyng and were þe croun
Wyth rycchest robys in res.
Woso to þe Werld wyl drawe
Of God ne of good man ȝeuyt he not a hawe,
Syche a man, be londys lawe,
Schal syttyn on my dees.

VOLUPTAS.

Lo, me here redy, lord, to faryn and to fle,
To sekyn þe a seruaunt dynge and dere.
Whoso wyl wyth foly rewlyd be
He is worthy to be a seruaunt here
Þat drawyth to synnys seuene.
Whoso wyl be fals and covetouse
Wyth þis werld he schal haue lond and house.
Þis werldys wysdom ȝeuyth not a louse
Of God nyn of hye heuene.

Tunc descendit in placeam pariter

Pes, pepyl, of pes we ȝou pray.
Syth and sethe wel to my sawe.
Whoso wyl be ryche and in gret aray
Toward þe Werld he schal drawe.
Whoso wyl be fals al þat he may,
Of God hymself he hath non awe,

And lyuyn in lustys nyth and day
Þe Werld of hym wyl be ryth fawe,
Do dwelle in his howse.
Whoso wyl wyth þe Werld haue hys dwellynge
And ben a lord of hys clothynge
He muste nedys, ouyr al þynge,
Eueremore be couetowse.

Non est in mundo diues qui dicit ‘habundo’

STULTICIA.
Ȝa, couetouse he muste be
And me, Foly, muste haue in mende,
For whoso wyl alwey foly fle
In þis werld schal ben vnthende.
Þorwe werldys wysdom of gret degre
Schal neuere man in werld moun wende
But he haue help of me
Þat am Foly fer and hende.
He muste hangyn on my hoke.
Werldly wyt was neuere nout
But wyth foly it were frawt.
Þus þe wysman hath tawt
Abotyn in his boke.

Sapiencia penes Domini.

VOLUPTAS.
Now all þe men þat in þis werld wold thryue,
For to rydyn on hors ful hye,
Cum speke wyth Lust and Lykynge belyue
And hys felaw, ȝonge Foly.
Late se whoso wyl vs knowe.
Whoso wyl drawe to Lykynge and Luste
And as a fole in Foly ruste,
On vs to he may truste
And leuyn louely, I trowe.

MALUS ANGELUS.

How, Lust, Lykyng, and Folye,
Take to me good entent!
I haue browth, be downys drye,
To þe Werld a gret present.

I haue gylyd hym ful qweyntly,
For syn he was born I haue hym blent.
He schal be serwaunt good and try,
Amonge ȝou his wyl is lent,
To þe Werld he wyl hym take.
For syn he cowde wyt, I vndirstonde,
I haue hym tysyd in euery londe.
Hys Goode Aungel, be strete and stronde,
I haue don hym forsake.

Þerfor, Lust, my trewe fere,
Þou art redy alwey iwys
Of worldly lawys þou hym lere
Þat he were browth in werldly blys.
Loke he be ryche, þe soþe to tell.
Help hym, fast he gunne to thrywe,
And whanne he wenyth best to lywe
Þanne schal he deye and not be schrywe
And goo wyth vs to hell.

VOLUPTAS.
Be Satan, þou art a nobyl knawe
To techyn men fyrst fro goode.
Lust and Lykynge he schal haue,
Lechery schal ben hys fode,
Metys and drynkys he schal haue trye.
Wyth a lykynge lady of lofte
He schal syttyn in sendel softe
To cachen hym to helle crofte
Þat day þat he schal deye.

STULTICIA.
Wyth ryche rentys I schal hym blynde
Wyth þe Werld tyl he be pytte,
And þanne schal I, longe or hys ende,
Make þat caytyfe to be knytte
On þe Werld whanne he is set sore.
Cum on, man, þou schalt not rewe
For þou wylt be to vs trewe.
Þou schalt be clad in clothys newe
And be ryche eueremore.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Mary, felaw, gramercy!
I wolde be ryche and of gret renoun.
I ȝeue no tale trewly
So þat I be lord of toure and toun,
Be buskys and bankys broun.
Syn þat þou wylt make me
Boþe ryche of gold and fee,
Goo forthe, for I wyl folow þe
Be dale and euery towne.

Trumpe vp. Tunc ibunt VOLUPTAS et STULTICIA, MALUS ANGELUS et HUMANUM GENUS ad MUNDUM, et dicet
VOLUPTAS.
How, lord, loke owt! for we haue browth
A serwant of nobyl fame.
Of worldly good is al hys þouth,
Of lust and folye he hath no schame.
He wolde be gret of name.
He wolde be at gret honour
For to rewle town and toure.
He wolde haue to hys paramoure
Sum louely dynge dame.

MUNDUS.
Welcum, syr, semly in syth!
Þou art welcum to worthy wede.
For þou wylt be my serwaunt day and nyth,
Wyth my seruyse I schal þe foster and fede.
Þi bak schal be betyn wyth besawntys bryth,
Þou schalt haue byggyngys be bankys brede,
To þi cors schal knele kayser and knyth
Where þat þou walke, be sty or be strete,
And ladys louely on lere.
But Goddys seruyse þou must forsake
And holy to þe Werld þe take
And þanne a man schal þe make
Þat non schal be þi pere.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Ȝys, Werld, and þerto here myn honde
To forsake God and hys seruyse.
To medys þou ȝeue me howse and londe
Þat I regne rychely at myn enprise.
So þat I fare wel be strete and stronde
Whyl I dwelle here in werldly wyse,
I recke neuere of heuene wonde
Nor of Jhesu, þat jentyl justyse.
Of my sowle I haue non rewthe.
What schulde I recknen of domysday
So þat I be ryche and of gret aray?
I schal make mery whyl I may,
And þerto here my trewthe.

MUNDUS.

Now sertys, syr, þou seyst wel.
I holde þe trewe fro top to þe too.
But þou were ryche it were gret del
And all men þat wyl fare soo.
Cum up, my serwaunt trew as stel.

Tunc ascendet HUMANUM GENUS ad MUNDUM

Þou schalt be ryche, whereso þou goo.
Men schul seruyn þe at mel
Wyth mynstralsye and bemys blo,
Wyth metys and drynkys trye.
Lust and Lykynge schal be þin ese.
Louely ladys þe schal plese.
Whoso do þe any disesse
He schal ben hangyn hye.

Lykynge, beluye
Late clothe hym swythe
In robys ryve
Wyth ryche aray.
Folye, þou fonde,
Be strete and stronde,
Serue hym at honde
Bothe nyth and day.

VOLUPTAS.
Trostyly,
Lord, redy,
Je vous pry,
Syr, I say.
In lyckynge and lust
He schal rust
Tyl dethys dust
Do hym to day.

STULTICIA.
And I, Folye,
Schal hyen hym hye
Tyl sum enmye
Hym ouyrgoo.
In worldys wyt
Þat in Foly syt
I þynke ȝyt
Hys sowle to sloo.

Trumpe vp

SCENE VI

DETRACCIO.

All þyngys I crye agayn þe pes
To knyt and knaue, þis is my kende.
Ȝa, dyngne dukys on her des
In byttyr balys I hem bynde.
Cryinge and care, chydynge and ches
And sad sorwe to hem I sende,
Ȝa, lowde lesyngys lacchyd in les,
Of talys vntrewe is al my mende.
Mannys bane abowtyn I bere.
I wyl þat ȝe wetyn, all þo þat ben here,
For I am knowyn fer and nere,
I am þe Werldys messengere,
My name is Bacbytere.

Wyth euery wyth I walke and wende
And euery man now louyth me wele.
Wyth lowde lesyngys vndyr lende
To dethys dynt I dresse and dele.

To speke fayre beforn and fowle behynde
Amongys men at mete and mele
Trewly, lordys, þis is my kynde.
Þus I renne upon a whele,
I am feller þanne a fox.
Fleterynge and flaterynge is my lessun,
Wyth lesyngys I tene boþe tour and town,
Wyth letterys of defamacyoun
I bere here in my box.

I am lyth of lopys þorwe euery londe,
Myn holy happys may not ben hyd.
To may not togedyr stonde
But I, Bakbyter, be þe thyrde.
I schape ȝone boyis to schame and schonde,
All þat wyl bowyn whanne I hem bydde.
To lawe of londe in feyth I fonde.
Whanne talys vntrewe arn betydde
Bakbytere is wyde spronge.
Þorwe þe werld, be downe and dalys,
All abowtyn I brewe balys.
Euery man tellyth talys
Aftyr my fals tunge.

Þerfore I am mad massenger
To lepyn ouyr londys leye
Þorwe all þe world, fer and ner,
Vnsayd sawys for to seye.
In þis holte I hunte here
For to spye a preuy pley,
For whanne Mankynde is cloþyd clere,
Þanne schal I techyn hym þe wey
To þe dedly synnys seuene.
Here I schal abydyn wyth my pese
Þe wronge to do hym for to chese,
For I þynke þat he schal lese
Þe lyth of hey heuene.

SCENE VII

VOLUPTAS.
Worthy World, in welthys wonde,
Here is Mankynde ful fayr in folde.
In bryth besauntys he is bownde
And bon to bowe to ȝou so bolde.
He leuyth in lustys euery stounde;
Holy to ȝou he hathe hym ȝolde.
For to makyn hym gay on grounde,
Worthy World, þou art beholde.
Þis werld is wel at ese.
For to God I make avow
Mankynde had leuer now
Greue God wyth synys row
Þanne þe World to dysplese.

STULTICIA.
Dysplese þe he wyl for no man.
On me, Foly, is al hys þowth.
Trewly Mankynde nowth nen can
Þynke on God þat hathe hym bowth.
Worthy World, wyth as swan,
In þi loue lely is he lawth.
Sythyn he cowde and fyrste began
Þe forsakyn wolde he nowth,
But ȝeue hym to Folye.
And syþyn he hathe to þe be trewe,
I rede þe forsakyn hym for no newe.
Lete us plesyn hym tyl þat he rewe
In hell to hangyn hye.

MUNDUS.
Now, Foly, fayre þe befall,
And Luste, blyssyd be þou ay!
Ȝe han browth Mankynde to myn hall
Sertys in a nobyl aray.
Wyth werldys welthys wythinne þese wallys
I schal hym feffe if þat I may.
Welcum, Mankynde! to þe I call,
Clenner cloþyd þanne any clay,

Be downe, dale, and dyche.
Mankynde, I rede þat þou reste
Wyth me, þe Werld, as it is beste.
Loke þou holde myn hende heste
And euere þou schalt be ryche.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Whou schuld I but I þi hestys helde?
Þou werkyst wyth me holy my wyll.
Þou feffyst me wyth fen and felde
And hye hall, be holtys and hyll.
In werldly wele my wytte I welde,
In joye I jette wyth juelys jentyll,
On blysful banke my boure is bylde,
In veynglorye I stonde styll.
I am kene as a knyt.
Whoso ageyn þe Werld wyl speke
Mankynde schal on hym be wreke,
In stronge presun I schal hym steke,
Be it wronge or ryth.

MUNDUS.

A, Mankynde, wel þe betyde
Þat þi loue on me is sette!
In my bowrys þou schalt abyde
And ȝyt fare mekyl þe bette.
I feffe þe in all my wonys wyde
In dale of dros tyl þou be deth.
I make þe lord of mekyl pryde,
Syr, at þyn owyn mowthis mette.
I fynde in þe no tresun.
In all þis worlde, be se and sonde,
Parkys, placys, lawnde and londe,
Here I ȝyfe þe wyth myn honde,
Syr, an opyn sesun.

Go to my tresorer, Syr Couetouse.
Loke þou tell hym as I seye.
Bydde hym make þe maystyr in hys house
Wyth penys and powndys for to pleye.

Loke þou ȝeue not a lous
Of þe day þat þou schalt deye.
Messenger, do now þyne vse;
Bakbytere, teche hym þe weye.
Þou art swetter þanne mede.
Mankynde, take wyth þe Bakbytynge.
Lefe hym for no maner thynge.
Flepergebet wyth hys flaterynge
Standyth Mankynde in stede.

DETRACCIO.
Bakbytynge and Detracion
Schal goo wyth þe fro toun to toun.
Haue don, Mankynde, and cum doun.
I am þyne owyn page.
I schal bere þe wyttnesse wyth my myth
Whanne my lord þe Werlde it behyth.
Lo, where Syr Coueytyse sytt
And bydith us in his stage.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Syr Worlde, I wende,
In Coueytyse to chasyn my kende.

MUNDUS.
Haue hym in mende,
And iwys þanne schalt þou be ryth þende.

BONUS ANGELUS.
Alas, Jhesu, jentyl justyce,
Whedyr may mans Good Aungyl wende?
Now schal careful Coueytyse
Mankende trewly al schende.
Hys sely goste may sore agryse;
Bakbytynge bryngyth hym in byttyr bonde.
Worldly wyttys, ȝe are not wyse,
Ȝour louely lyfe amys ȝe spende
And þat schal ȝe sore smert.
Parkys, ponndys, and many pens
Þei semyn to ȝou swetter þanne sens,
But Goddys seruyse nyn hys commaundementys
Stondyth ȝou not at hert.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Ȝa, whanne þe fox prechyth, kepe wel ȝore gees!
He spekyth as it were a holy pope.
Goo, felaw, and pyke of þo lys
Þat crepe þer upon þi cope!
Þi part is pleyed al at þe dys
Þat þou schalt haue here, as I hope.
Tyl Mankynde fallyth to podys prys,
Coueytyse schal hym grype and grope
Tyl sum schame hym schende.
Tyl man be dyth in dethys dow
He seyth neuere he hath inow.
Þerfore, goode boy, cum blow
At my neþer ende!

SCENE VIII

DETRACCIO.
Syr Coueytyse, God þe saue,
Þi pens and þi poundys all!
I, Bakbyter, þyn owyn knaue,
Haue browt Mankynde vnto þine hall.
Þe Werlde bad þou schuldyst hym haue
And feffyn hym, whatso befall.
In grene gres tyl he be graue
Putte hym in þi precyous pall,
Coueytyse, it were ell rewthe.
Whyl he walkyth in worldly wolde
I, Bakbyter, am wyth hym holde.
Lust and Folye, þo barouns bolde,
To hem he hath plyth hys trewthe.

AUARICIA.

Ow, Mankynde, blyssyd mote þou be!
I haue louyd þe derworthly many a day,
And so I wot wel þat þou dost me.
Cum up and se my ryche aray.
It were a gret poynte of pyte
But Coueytyse were to þi pay.
Sit up ryth here in þis se.
I schal þe lere of werldlys lay

Þat fadyth as a flode.
Wyth good inow I schal þe store,
And ȝyt oure game is but lore
But þou coueyth mekyl more
Þanne euere schal do þe goode.

Þou muste ȝyfe þe to symonye,
Extorsion, and false asyse.
Helpe no man but þou haue why.
Pay not þi serwauntys here serwyse.
Þi neyborys loke þou dystroye.
Tythe not on non wyse.
Here no begger þou he crye;
And þanne schalt þou ful sone ryse.
And whanne þou vsyste marchaundyse
Loke þat þou be sotel of sleytys,
And also swere al be deseytys,
Bye and sell be fals weytys,
For þat is kynde coueytyse.

Be not agaste of þe grete curse.
Þis lofly lyfe may longe leste.
Be þe peny in þi purs,
Lete hem cursyn and don here beste.
What deuyl of hell art þou þe wers
Þow þou brekyste Goddys heste?
Do aftyr me, I am þi nors.
Alwey gadyr and haue non reste.
In wynnynge be al þi werke.
To pore men take none entent,
For þat þou haste longe tyme hent
In lytyl tyme it may be spent;
Þus seyth Caton, þe grete clerke.

Labitur exiguo quod partum tempore longo.

HUMANUM GENUS.
A, Auaryce, wel þou spede!
Of werldly wytte þou canst iwys.
Þou woldyst not I hadde nede
And schuldyst be wrothe if I ferd amys.

I schal neuere begger bede
Mete nyn drynke, be heuene blys;
Rather or I schulde hym cloþe or fede
He schulde sterue and stynke iwys.
Coueytyse, as þou wylt I wyl do.
Whereso þat I fare, be fenne or flod,
I make avow be Goddys blod
Of Mankynde getyth no man no good
But if he synge si dedero.

AUARICIA.

Mankynd, þat was wel songe.
Sertys now þou canst sum skyll.
Blyssyd be þi trewe tonge!
In þis bowre þou schalt byde and byll.
Moo synnys I wolde þou vndyrfonge:
Wyth coveytyse þe feffe I wyll;
And þanne sum pryde I wolde spronge,
Hyȝe in þi hert to holdyn and hyll
And abydyn in þi body.
Here I feffe þe in myn heuene
Wyth gold and syluyr lyth as leuene.
Þe dedly synnys, all seuene,
I schal do comyn in hy.

Pryde, Wrathe, and Envye,
Com forthe, þe Deuelys chyldryn þre!
Lecchery, Slawth, and Glotonye,
To mans flesch ȝe are fendys fre.
Dryuyth downne ouyr dalys drye,
Beth now blyþe as any be,
Ouyr hyll and holtys ȝe ȝou hyȝe
To com to Mankynde and to me
Fro ȝoure dowty dennys.
As dukys dowty ȝe ȝou dresse.
Whanne ȝe sex be comne, I gesse,
Þanne be we seuene and no lesse
Of þe dedly synnys.

SCENE IX

SUPERBIA.
Wondyr hyȝe howtys on hyll herd I houte;
Koueytyse kryeth, hys karpynge I kenne.
Summe lord or summe lordeyn lely schal loute
To be pyth wyth perlys of my proude penne.
Bon I am to braggyn and buskyn abowt,
Rapely and redyly on rowte for to renne.
Be doun, dalys, nor dennys no duke I dowt,
Also fast for to fogge, be flodys and be fenne.
I rore whanne I ryse.
Syr Belyal, bryth of ble,
To ȝou I recomaunde me.
Haue good day, my fadyr fre,
For I goo to Coveytyse.

IRA.
Whanne Coveytyse cried and carpyd of care,
Þanne must I, wod wreche, walkyn and wend
Hyȝe ouyr holtys, as hound aftyr hare.
If I lette and were þe last, he schuld me sore schend.
I buske my bold baston, be bankys ful bare.
Sum boy schal be betyn and browth vndyr bonde.
Wrath schal hym wrekyn and weyin hys ware.
Forlorn schal al be for lusti laykys in londe,
As a lythyr page.
Syr Belyal, blak and blo,
Haue good day, now I goo
For to fell þi foo
Wyth wyckyd wage.

INVIDIA.
Whanne Wrath gynnyth walke in ony wyde wonys,
Envye flet as a fox and folwyth on faste.
Whanne þou steryste or staryste or stumble upon stonys,
I lepe as a lyon; me is loth to be þe laste.
Ȝa, I breyde byttyr balys in body and in bonys,
I frete myn herte and in kare I me kast.
Goo we to Coveytyse, all þre at onys,
Wyth oure grysly gere a grome for to gast.

Þis day schal he deye.
Belsabubbe, now haue good day,
For we wyl wendyn in good aray,
Al þre in fere, as I þe say,
Pride, Wrath, and Envye.

BELIAL.
Farewel now, chyldryn fayre to fynde!
Do now wel ȝoure olde owse.
Whanne ȝe com to Mankynde
Make hym wroth and envyous.
Leuyth not lytly vndyr lynde;
To his sowle brewyth a byttyr jous.
Whanne he is ded I schal hym bynde
In hell, as catte dothe þe mows.
Now buske ȝou forþe on brede.
I may be blythe as any be,
For Mankynde in euery cuntre
Is rewlyd be my chyldyr þre,
Envye, Wrathe, and Pryde.

SCENE X

GULA.
A grom gan gredyn gayly on grounde.
Of me, gay Glotoun, gan al hys gale.
I stampe and I styrte and stynt upon stounde,
To a staunche deth I stakyr and stale.
What boyes wyth here belys in my bondys ben bownd,
Boþe here bak and here blod I brewe al to bale.
I fese folke to fyth tyl here flesch fond.
Whanne summe han dronkyn a drawth þei drepyn in a dale;
In me is here mynde.
Mans florchynge flesch,
Fayre, frele, and fresch,
I rape to rewle in a rese
To kloye in my kynde.

LUXURIA.
In mans kyth I cast me a castel to kepe.
I, Lechery, wyth lykynge, am lovyd in iche a lond.
Wyth my sokelys of swettnesse I sytte and I slepe.
Many berdys I brynge to my byttyr bonde.

In wo and in wrake wyckyd wytys schal wepe
Þat in my wonys wylde wyl not out wende.
Whanne Mankynde is castyn undyr clourys to crepe,
Þanne þo ledrouns for here lykynge I schal al to-schende,
Trewly to tell.
Syr Flesch, now I wende,
Wyth lust in my lende,
To cachyn Mankynde
To þe Devyl of hell.

ACCIDIA.
Ȝa, what seyst þou of Syr Slawth, wyth my soure syth?
Mankynde louyth me wel, wys as I wene.
Men of relygyon I rewle in my ryth;
I lette Goddys seruyse, þe soþe may be sene.
In bedde I brede brothel wyth my berdys bryth;
Lordys, ladys, and lederounnys to my lore leene.
Mekyl of mankynd in my clokys schal be knyth
Tyl deth dryuyth hem down in dalys bedene.
We may non lenger abyde.
Syr Flesch, comly kynge,
In þe is al oure bredynge.
Ȝeue us now þi blyssynge,
For Coveytyse hath cryde.

CARO.
Glotony and Slawth, farewel in fere,
Louely in londe is now ȝour lesse;
And Lecherye, my dowtyr so dere,
Dapyrly ȝe dresse ȝou so dyngne on desse.
All þre my blyssynge ȝe schal haue here.
Goth now forth and gyue ȝe no fors.
It is no nede ȝou for to lere
To cachyn Mankynd to a careful clos
Fro þe bryth blysse off heuene.
Þe Werld, þe Flesch, and þe Devyl are knowe
Grete lordys, as we wel owe,
And þorwe Mankynd we settyn and sowe
Þe dedly synnys seuene.

SCENE XI

Tunc ibunt SUPERBIA, IRA, INVIDIA, GULA, LUXURIA, et ACCIDIA ad AUARICIAM et dicet SUPERBIA:
SUPERBIA.
What is þi wyll, Syr Coveytyse?
Why hast þou afftyr vs sent?
Whanne þou creydyst we ganne agryse
And come to þe now par asent.
Oure loue is on þe lent.
I, Pryde, Wrath, and Envye,
Gloton, Slawth, and Lecherye,
We arn cum all sex for þi crye
To be at þi commaundement.

AUARICIA.

Welcum be ȝe, breþeryn all,
And my systyr, swete Lecherye!
Wytte ȝe why I gan to call?
For ȝe must me helpe and þat in hy.
Mankynde is now com to myn hall
Wyth me to dwell, be downys dry.
Þerfore ȝe must, whatso befall,
Feffyn hym wyth ȝoure foly,
And ell ȝe don hym wronge.
For whanne Mankynd is kendly koueytous
He is provd, wrathful, and envyous;
Glotons, slaw, and lecherous
Þei arn oþyrwhyle amonge.

Þus euery synne tyllyth in oþyr
And makyth Mankynde to ben a foole.
We seuene fallyn on a fodyr
Mankynd to chase to pynyngys stole.
Þerfore, Pryde, good broþyr,
And breþyryn all, take ȝe ȝour tol.
Late iche of vs take at othyr
And set Mankynd on a stomlynge stol

Whyl he is here on lyve.
Lete vs lullyn hym in oure lust
Tyl he be dreuyn to dampnynge dust.
Colde care schal ben hys crust
To deth whanne he schal dryve.

SUPERBIA.

In gle and game I growe glad.
Mankynd, take good hed
And do as Coveytyse þe bad,
Take me in þyn hert, precyous Pride.
Loke þou be not ouyrlad,
Late no bacheler þe mysbede,
Do þe to be dowtyd and drad,
Bete boyes tyl þey blede,
Kast hem in careful kettys.
Frende, fadyr and modyr dere,
Bowe hem not in non manere,
And hold no maner man þi pere,
And vse þese new jettys.

Loke þou blowe mekyl bost
Wyth longe crakows on þi schos.
Jagge þi clothis in euery cost,
And ell men schul lete þe but a goos.
It is þus, man, wel þou wost,
Þerfore do as no man dos
And euery man sette at a thost
And of þiself make gret ros.
Now se þiself on euery syde.
Euery man þou schalt schende and schelfe
And holde no man betyr þanne þiselfe.
Tyl dethys dynt þi body delfe
Put holy þyn hert in Pride.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Pryde, be Jhesu, þou seyst wel.
Whoso suffyr is ouyrled al day.
Whyl I reste on my rennynge whel
I schal not suffre, if þat I may.

Myche myrthe at mete and mel
I loue ryth wel, and ryche aray.
Trewly I þynke, in euery sel,
On grounde to be graythyd gay
And of myselfe to take good gard.
Mykyl myrthe þou wylt me make,
Lordlyche to leue, be londe and lake.
Myn hert holy to þe I take
Into þyne owyn award.

SUPERBIA.
I þi bowre to abyde
I com to dwelle be þi syde.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Mankynde and Pride
Schal dwell togedyr euery tyde.

IRA.
Be also wroth as þou were wode.
Make þe be dred, be dalys derne.
Whoso þe wrethe, be fen or flode,
Loke þou be avengyd ȝerne.
Be redy to spylle mans blod.
Loke þou hem fere, be feldys ferne.
Alway, man, be ful of mod.
My lothly lawys loke þou lerne,
I rede, for any þynge.
Anon take venjaunce, man, I rede,
And þanne schal no man þe ouyrlede,
But of þe þey schul haue drede
And bowe to þi byddynge.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Wrethe, for þi councel hende,
Haue þou Goddys blyssynge and myn.
What caytyf of al my kende
Wyl not bowe, he schal abyn.
Wyth myn venjaunce I schal hym schende
And wrekyn me, be Goddys yne.
Raþyr or I schulde bowe or bende
I schuld be stekyd as a swyne

Wyth a lothly launce.
Be it erly or late,
Whoso make wyth me debate
I schal hym hyttyn on þe pate
And takyn anon venjaunce.

IRA.
Wyth my rewly rothyr
I com to þe, Mankynde, my broþyr.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Wrethe, þi fayr foþyr
Makyth iche man to be vengyd on oþyr.

INVIDIA.
Envye wyth Wrathe muste dryve
To haunte Mankynde also.
Whanne any of þy neyborys wyl þryve
Loke þou haue Envye þerto.
On þe hey name I charge þe belyue
Bakbyte hym, whowso þou do.
Kyll hym anon wythowtyn knyve
And speke hym sum schame were þou go,
Be dale or downys drye.
Speke þi neybour mekyl schame,
Pot on hem sum fals fame,
Loke þou vndo hys nobyl name
Wyth me, þat am Envye.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Envye, þou art boþe good and hende
And schalt be of my counsel chefe.
Þi counsel is knowyn þorwe mankynde,
For ilke man callyth oþyr hore and thefe.
Envye, þou arte rote and rynde,
Þorwe þis werld, of mykyl myschefe.
In byttyr balys I schal hem bynde
Þat to þe puttyth any reprefe.
Cum vp to me above.
For more envye þanne is now reynynge
Was neuere syth Cryst was kynge.
Cum vp, Envye, my dere derlynge.
Þou hast Mankyndys love.

INVIDIA.
I clymbe fro þis crofte
Wyth Mankynde to syttyn on lofte.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Cum, syt here softe,
For in abbeys þou dwellyst ful ofte.

GULA.
In gay Glotony a game þou begynne,
Ordeyn þe mete and drynkys goode.
Loke þat no tresour þou part atwynne
But þe feffe and fede wyth al kynnys fode.
Wyth fastynge schal man neuere heuene wynne,
Þese grete fasterys I holde hem wode.
Þou þou ete and drynke, it is no synne.
Fast no day, I rede, be þe rode,
Þou chyde þese fastyng cherlys.
Loke þou haue spycys of goode odoure
To feffe and fede þy fleschly floure
And þanne mayst þou bultyn in þi boure
And serdyn gay gerlys.

HUMANUM GENUS.
A, Glotony, wel I þe grete!
Soth and sad it is, þy sawe.
I am no day wel, be sty nor strete,
Tyl I haue wel fyllyd my mawe.
Fastynge is fellyd vndyr fete,
Þou I neuere faste, I ne rekke an hawe,
He seruyth of nowth, be þe rode, I lete,
But to do a mans guttys to gnawe.
To faste I wyl not fonde.
I schal not spare, so haue I reste,
To haue a mossel of þe beste.
Þe lenger schal my lyfe mow leste
Wyth gret lykynge in londe.

GULA.
Be bankys on brede,
Oþyrwhyle to spew þe spede!

HUMANUM GENUS.
Whyl I lyf lede
Wyth fayre fode my flesche schal I fede.

LUXURIA.
Ȝa, whanne þi flesche is fayre fed,
Þanne schal I, louely Lecherye,
Be bobbyd wyth þe in bed;
Hereof serue mete and drynkys trye.
In loue þi lyf schal be led;
Be a lechour tyl þou dye.
Þi nedys schal be þe better sped
If þou ȝyf þe to fleschly folye
Tyl deth þe down drepe.
Lechery syn þe werld began
Hath avauncyd many a man.
Þerfore, Mankynd, my leue lemman,
I my cunte þou schalt crepe.

HUMANUM GENUS.
A, Lechery, wel þe be.
Mans sed in þe is sowe.
Fewe men wyl forsake þe
In any cuntre þat I knowe.
Spousebreche is a frend ryth fre,
Men vse þat mo þanne inowe.
Lechery, cum syt be me.
Þi banys be ful wyd iknowe,
Lykynge is in þi lende.
On nor oþyr, I se no wythte
Þat wyl forsake þe day ner nyth.
Þerfore cum vp, my berd bryth,
And reste þe wyth Mankynde.

LUXURIA.
I may soth synge
‘Mankynde is kawt in my slynge’.

HUMANUM GENUS.
For ony erthyly þynge,
To bedde þou muste me brynge.

ACCIDIA.
Ȝa, whanne ȝe be in bedde boþe,
Wappyd wel in worthy wede,

Þanne I, Slawthe, wyl be wrothe
But to brothelys I may brede.
Whanne þe messe-belle goth
Lye stylle, man, and take non hede.
Lappe þyne hed þanne in a cloth
And take a swet, I þe rede,
Chyrche-goynge þou forsake.
Losengerys in londe I lyfte
And dyth men to mekyl vnthryfte.
Penaunce enjoynyd men in schryfte
Is vndone, and þat I make.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Owe, Slawthe, þou seyst me skylle.
Men vse þe mekyl, God it wot.
Men lofe wel now to lye stylle
In bedde to take a morowe swot.
To chyrcheward is not here wylle;
Here beddys þei þynkyn goode and hot.
Herry, Jofferey, Jone, and Gylle
Arn leyd and logyd in a lot
Wyth þyne vnþende charmys.
Al mankynde, be þe holy rode,
Are now slawe in werkys goode.
Com nere þerfore, myn fayre foode,
And lulle me in þyne armys.

ACCIDIA.
I make men, I trowe,
In Goddys seruyse to be ryth slowe.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Com up þis þrowe.
Swyche men þou schalt fynden inowe.

HUMANUM GENUS.

Mankynde I am callyd be kynde,
Wyth curssydnesse in costys knet.
In sowre swettenesse my syth I sende,
Wyth seuene synnys sadde beset.
Mekyl myrþe I moue in mynde,
Wyth melody at my mowþis met.
My prowd pouer schal I not pende
Tyl I be putte in peynys pyt,

To helle hent fro hens.
In dale of dole tyl we are downe
We schul be clad in a gay gowne.
I se no man but þey vse somme
Of þese seuene dedly synnys.

For comounly it is seldom seyne,
Whoso now be lecherows
But of oþyr men he schal haue dysdeyne
And ben prowde or covetous.
In synne iche man is founde.
Þer is pore nor ryche, be londe ne lake,
Þat alle þese seuene wyl forsake,
But wyth on or oþyr he schal be take
And in here byttyr bondys bownde.

BONUS ANGELUS.
So mekyl þe werse, weleawoo,
Þat euere good aungyl was ordeynyd þe.
Þou art rewlyd aftyr þe fende þat is þi foo
And noþynge certys aftyr me.
Weleaway, wedyr may I goo?
Man doth me bleykyn blody ble.
Hys swete sowle he wyl now slo.
He schal wepe al hys game and gle
At on dayes tyme.
Ȝe se wel all sothly in syth
I am abowte boþe day and nyth
To brynge hys sowle into blis bryth,
And hymself wyl it brynge to pyne.

MALUS ANGELUS.
No, Good Aungyl, þou art not in sesun,
Fewe men in þe feyth þey fynde.
For þou hast schewyd a ballyd resun,
Goode syre, cum blowe myn hol behynde.
Trewly man hathe non chesun
On þi God to grede and grynde,
For þat schuld cunne Cristis lessoun
In penaunce hys body he muste bynde

And forsake þe worldys mende.
Men arn loth on þe to crye
Or don penaunce for here folye.
Þerfore haue I now maystrye
Welny ouyr al mankynde.

BONUS ANGELUS.
Alas, Mankynde
Is bobbyd and blent as þe blynde.
In feyth, I fynde,
To Crist he can nowt be kynde.
Alas, Mankynne
Is soylyd and saggyd in synne.
He wyl not blynne
Tyl body and sowle parte atwynne.
Alas, he is blendyd,
Amys mans lyf is ispendyd,
Wyth fendys fendyd.
Mercy, God, þat man were amendyd!

CONFESSIO.
What, mans Aungel, good and trewe,
Why syest þou and sobbyst sore?
Sertys sore it schal me rewe
If I se þe make mornynge more.
May any bote þi bale brewe
Or any þynge þi stat astore?
For all felechepys olde and newe
Why makyst þou grochynge vndyr gore
Wyth pynynge poyntys pale?
Why was al þis gretynge gunne
Wyth sore syinge vndyr sunne?
Tell me and I schal, if I cunne,
Brewe þe bote of bale.

BONUS ANGELUS.
Of byttyr balys þou mayste me bete,
Swete Schryfte, if þat þou wylt.
For Mankynde it is þat I grete;
He is in poynt to be spylt.

He is set in seuene synnys sete
And wyl certys tyl he be kylt.
Wyth me he þynkyth neueremore to mete,
He hath me forsake, and I haue no gylt.
No man wyl hym amende.
Þerfore, Schryfte, so God me spede,
But if þou helpe at þis nede
Mankynde getyth neuere oþyr mede
But peyne wythowtyn ende.

CONFESCIO.
What, Aungel, be of counfort stronge,
For þi lordys loue þat deyed on tre.
On me, Schryfte, it schal not be longe
And þat þou schalt þe sothe se.
If he wyl be aknowe hys wronge
And noþynge hele, but telle it me,
And don penaunce sone amonge,
I schal hym stere to gamyn and gle
In joye þat euere schal last.
Whoso schryue hym of hys synnys alle
I behete hym heuene halle.
Þerfor go we hens, whatso befalle,
To Mankynde fast.

Tunc ibunt ad HUMANUM GENUS et dicet
CONFESSIO.
What, Mankynde, whou goth þis?
What dost þou wyth þese deuelys seuene?
Alas, alas, man, al amys!
Blysse in þe name of God in heuene,
I rede, so haue I rest.
Þese lotly lordeynys awey þou lyfte
And cum doun and speke wyth Schryfte
And drawe þe ȝerne to sum thryfte.
Trewly it is þe best.

HUMANUM GENUS.
A, Schryfte, þou art wel be note
Here to Slawthe þat syttyth here-inne.
He seyth þou mytyst a com to mannys cote
On Palme Sunday al betyme.

Þou art com al to sone.
Þerfore, Schryfte, be þi fay,
Goo forthe tyl on Good Fryday.
Tente to þe þanne wel I may;
I haue now ellys to done.

CONFESCIO.
Ow, þat harlot is now bold!
In bale he byndyth Mankynd belyue.
Sey Slawthe I preyd hym þat he wold
Fynd a charter of þi lyue.
Man, þou mayst ben vndyr mold
Longe or þat tyme, kyllyd wyth a knyue,
Wyth podys and froskys manyfold.
Þerfore schape þe now to schryue
If þou wylt com to blys.
Þou synnyste, or sorwe þe ensense.
Behold þynne hert, þi preue spense,
And þynne owyn consyense,
Or sertys þou dost amys.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Ȝa, Petyr, so do mo!
We haue etyn garlek euerychone.
Þou I schulde to helle go,
I wot wel I schal not gon alone,
Trewly I tell þe.
I dyd neuere so ewyl trewly
But oþyr han don as ewyl as I.
Þerfore, syre, lete be þy cry
And go hens fro me.

PENITENCIA.

Wyth poynt of penaunce I schal hym prene
Mans pride for to felle.
Wyth þis launce I schal hym lene
Iwys a drope of mercy welle.
Sorwe of hert is þat I mene;
Trewly þer may no tunge telle
What waschyth sowlys more clene
Fro þe foul fend of helle

Þanne swete sorwe of hert.
God, þat syttyth in heuene on hye,
Askyth no more or þat þou dye
But sorwe of hert wyth wepynge eye
For all þi synnys smert.

Þei þat syh in synnynge,
In sadde sorwe for here synne,
Whanne þei schal make here endynge,
Al here joye is to begynne.
Þanne medelyth no mornynge
But joye is joynyd wyth jentyl gynne.
Þerfore, Mankynde, in þis tokenynge,
Wyth spete of spere to þe I spynne,
Goddys lawys to þe I lerne.
Wyth my spud of sorwe swote
I reche to þyne hert rote.
Al þi bale schal torne þe to bote.
Mankynde, go schryue þe ȝerne.

HUMANUM GENUS.

A sete of sorwe in me is set;
Sertys for synne I syhe sore.
Mone of mercy in me is met;
For werldys myrþe I morne more.
In wepynge wo my wele is wet.
Mercy, þou muste myn stat astore.
Fro oure lordys lyth þou hast me let,
Sory synne, þou grysly gore,
Owte on þe, dedly synne!
Synne, þou haste Mankynde schent.
In dedly synne my lyfe is spent.
Mercy, God omnipotent!
In ȝoure grace I begynne.

For þou Mankynde haue don amys,
And he wyl falle in repentaunce,
Crist schal hym bryngyn to bowre of blys
If sorwe of hert lache hym wyth launce.

Lordyngys, ȝe se wel alle þys,
Mankynde hathe ben in gret bobaunce.
I now forsake my synne iwys
And take me holy to Penaunce.
On Crist I crye and calle.
A, mercy, Schryfte! I wyl no more.
For dedly synne myn herte is sore.
Stuffe Mankynde wyth þyne store
And haue hym to þyne halle.

CONFESCIO.
Schryffte may no man forsake.
Whanne Mankynde cryeth I am redy.
Whanne sorwe of hert þe hathe take
Schryfte profytyth veryly.
Whoso for synne wyl sorwe make
Crist hym heryth whanne he wyl criye.
Now, man, lete sorwe þyn synne slake
And torne not ageyn to þi folye,
For þat makyth dystaunce.
And if it happe þe turne ageyn to synne,
For Goddys loue lye not longe þerinne.
He þat dothe alwey ewyl and wyl not blynne,
Þat askyth gret venjaunce.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Nay sertys þat schal I not do,
Schryfte, þou schalte þe sothe se;
For þow Mankynde be wonte þerto
I wyl now al amende me.
Tunc descendit ad CONFESSIONEM
I com to þe, Schryfte, alholy, lo!
I forsake ȝou, synnys, and fro ȝou fle.
Ȝe schapyn to man a sory scho;
Whanne he is begylyd in þis degre
Ȝe bleykyn al hys ble.
Synne, þou art a sory store.
Þou makyst Mankynd to synke sore.
Þerfore of ȝou wyl I no more.
I aske schryfte for charyte.

CONFESCIO.
If þou wylt be aknowe here
Only al þi trespas,
I schal þe schelde fro helle fere
And putte þe fro peyne vnto precyouse place.
If þou wylt not make þynne sowle clere
But kepe hem in þyne hert cas,
Anoþyr day þey schul be rawe and rere
And synke þi sowle to Satanas
In gastful glowynge glede.
Þerfore, man, in mody monys,
If þou wylt wende to worþi wonys,
Schryue þe now, al at onys,
Holy of þi mysdede.

HUMANUM GENUS.

A, ȝys, Schryfte, trewly I trowe,
I schal not spare, for odde nor even,
Þat I schal rekne al on a rowe
To lache me up to lyuys leuene.
To my Lord God I am aknowe
Þat syttyth abouen in hey heuene
Þat I haue synnyd many a þrowe
In þe dedly synnys seuene,
Boþe in home and halle.
Pride, Wrathe, and Envye,
Coueytyse and Lecherye,
Slawth and also Glotonye,
I haue hem vsyd alle.

Þe ten comaundementys brokyn I haue
And my fyue wyttys spent hem amys.
I was þanne wood and gan to raue.
Mercy, God, forgeue me þys!
Whanne any pore man gan to me craue
I gafe hym nowt, and þat forþynkyth me iwys.
Now, Seynt Saueour, ȝe me saue
And brynge me to ȝour boure of blys!
I can not alle say.
But to þe erthe I knele adown,

Boþe wyth bede and orisoun,
And aske myn absolucioun,
Syr Schryfte, I ȝou pray.

CONFESCIO.

Now Jhesu Cryste, God holy,
And all þe seyntys of heuene hende,
Petyr and Powle, apostoly,
To whom God ȝafe powere to lese and bynde,
He forȝeue þe þi foly
Þat þou hast synnyd wyth hert and mynde.
And I up my powere þe asoly
Þat þou hast ben to God vnkynde,
Quantum peccasti.
In Pride, Ire, and Envye,
Slawthe, Glotony, and Lecherye,
And Coveytyse continuandelye
Vitam male continuasti.

I þe asoyle wyth goode entent
Of alle þe synnys þat þou hast wrowth
In brekynge of Goddys commaundement
In worde, werke, wyl, and þowth.
I restore to þe sacrament
Of penauns weche þou neuere rowt;
Þi fyue wyttys mysdyspent
In synne þe weche þou schuldyst nowt,
Quicquid gesisti,
Wyth eyne sen, herys herynge,
Nose smellyd, mowthe spekynge,
And al þi bodys bad werkynge,
Vicium quodcumque fecisti.

I þe asoyle wyth mylde mod
Of al þat þou hast ben ful madde
In forsakynge of þyn aungyl good,
And þi fowle Flesche þat þou hast fadde,
Þe Werld, þe Deuyl þat is so woode,
And folwyd þyne aungyl þat is so badde.

To Jhesu Crist þat deyed on rode
I restore þe ageyn ful sadde.
Noli peccare.
And all þe goode dedys þat þou haste don
And all þi tribulacyon
Stonde þe in remyssion.
Posius noli viciare.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Now, Syr Schryfte, where may I dwelle
To kepe me fro synne and woo?
A comly counseyl ȝe me spelle
To fende me now fro my foo.
If þese seuene synnys here telle
Þat I am þus fro hem goo,
Þe Werld, þe Flesche, and þe Deuyl of hell
Schul sekyn my soule for to sloo
Into balys bowre.
Þerfore I pray ȝou putte me
Into sum place of surete
Þat þei may not harmyn me
Wyth no synnys sowre.

CONFESCIO.
To swyche a place I schal þe kenne
Þer þou mayst dwelle wythoutyn dystaunsce
And alwey kepe þe fro synne,
Into þe Castel of Perseueraunce.
If þou wylt to heuene wynne
And kepe þe fro werldyly dystaunce,
Goo to ȝone castel and kepe þe þerinne,
For it is strenger þanne any in Fraunce.
To ȝone castel I þe seende.
Þat castel is a precyous place,
Ful of vertu and of grace;
Whoso leuyth þere hys lyuys space
No synne schal hym schende.

HUMANUM GENUS.
A, Schryfte, blessyd mote þou be!
Þis castel is here but at honde.
Þedyr rapely wyl I tee,
Sekyr ouyr þis sad sonde.

Good perseueraunce God sende me
Whyle I leue here in þis londe.
Fro fowle fylthe now I fle,
Forthe to faryn now I fonde
To ȝone precyous port.
Lord, what man is in mery lyue
Whanne he is of hys synnys schreue!
Al my dol adoun is dreue.
Criste is myn counfort.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Ey, what deuyl, man, wedyr schat?
Woldyst drawe now to holynesse?
Goo, felaw, þi goode gate,
Þou art forty wyntyr olde, as I gesse.
Goo ageyn, þe deuelys mat,
And pleye þe a whyle wyth Sare and Sysse.
Sche wolde not ellys, ȝone olde trat,
But putte þe to penaunce and to stresse,
Ȝone foule feterel fyle.
Late men þat arn on þe pyttys brynke
Forberyn boþe mete and drynke
And do penaunce as hem good þynke,
And cum and pley þe a whyle.

BONUS ANGELUS.
Ȝa, Mankynde, wende forthe þi way
And do noþynge aftyr hys red.
He wolde þe lede ouyr londys lay
In dale of dros tyl þou were ded.
Of cursydnesse he kepyth þe key
To bakyn þe a byttyr bred.
In dale of dol tyl þou schudyst dey
He wolde drawe þe to cursydhed,
In synne to haue myschaunce.
Þerfor spede now þy pace
Pertly to ȝone precyouse place
Þat is al growyn ful of grace,
Þe Castel of Perseueraunce.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Goode Aungyl, I wyl do as þou wylt,
In londe whyl my lyfe may leste,
For I fynde wel in holy wryt
Þou counseylyste euere for þe beste.
[OMITTED]

SCENE XII

CARITAS.
To Charyte, man, haue an eye
In al þynge, man, I rede.
Al þi doynge as dros is drye
But in Charyte þou dyth þi dede.
I dystroye alwey Envye;
So dyd þi God whanne he gan blede;
For synne he was hangyn hye
And ȝyt synnyd he neuere in dede,
Þat mylde mercy welle.
Poule in hys pystyl puttyth þe prefe,
‘But charyte be wyth þe chefe’.
Þerfore, Mankynde, be now lefe
In Charyte for to dwelle.

ABSTINENCIA.
In Abstinens lede þi lyf,
Take but skylful refeccyon;
For Gloton kyllyth wythoutyn knyf
And dystroyeth þi complexion.
Whoso ete or drynke ouyrblyue
It gaderyth to corrupcion.
Þis synne browt us alle in stryue
Whanne Adam fel in synne down
Fro precyous paradys.
Mankynd, lere now of oure lore.
Whoso ete or drynke more
Þanne skylfully hys state astore,
I holde hym noþynge wys.

CASTITAS.
Mankynd, take kepe of Chastyte
And moue þe to maydyn Marye.
Fleschly foly loke þou fle,
At þe reuerense of Oure Ladye.

Quia qui in carne viuunt Domino placere non possunt.

Þat curteys qwene, what dyd sche?
Kepte hyre clene and stedfastly,
And in here was trussyd þe Trinite;
Þorwe gostly grace sche was worthy,
And al for sche was chaste.
Whoso kepyt hym chast and wyl not synne,
Whanne he is beryed in bankys brymmne
Al hys joye is to begynne.
Þerfore to me take taste.

SOLICITUDO.
In Besynesse, man, loke þou be,
Wyth worþi werkys goode and þykke.
To Slawthe if þou cast þe
It schal þe drawe to þowtys wyckke.

Osiositas parit omne malum.

It puttyth a man to pouerte
And pullyth hym to peynys prycke.
Do sumwhat alwey for loue of me,
Þou þou schuldyst but thwyte a stycke.
Wyth bedys sumtyme þe blys.
Sumtyme rede and sumtyme wryte
And sumtyme pleye at þi delyte.
Þe Deuyl þe waytyth wyth dyspyte
Whanne þou art in idylnesse.

LARGITAS.
In Largyte, man, ley þi loue.
Spende þi good, as God it sent.
In worchep of hym þat syt above
Loke þi goodys be dyspent.
In dale of dros whanne þou schalt droue
Lytyl loue is on þe lent;

Þe sekatourys schul seyn it is here behoue
To make us mery, for he is went
Þat al þis good gan owle.
Ley þi tresour and þy trust
In place where no ruggynge rust
May it dystroy to dros ne dust
But al to helpe of sowle.

HUMANUM GENUS.

Ladys in londe, louely and lyt,
Lykynge lelys, ȝe be my leche.
I wyl bowe to ȝour byddynge bryth;
Trewe tokenynge ȝe me teche.
Dame Meknes, in ȝour myth
I wyl me wryen fro wyckyd wreche.
Al my purpos I haue pyt,
Paciens, to don as ȝe me preche;
Fro Wrathe ȝe schal me kepe.
Charyte, ȝe wyl to me entende.
Fro fowle Envye ȝe me defende.
Manns mende ȝe may amende,
Whethyr he wake or slepe.

Abstynens, to ȝou I tryst;
Fro Glotony ȝe schal me drawe.
In Chastyte to leuyn me lyst,
Þat is Oure Ladys lawe.
Besynes, we schul be cyste;
Slawthe, I forsake þi sleper sawe.
Largyte, to ȝou I tryst,
Coveytyse to don of dawe.
Þis is a curteys cumpany.
What schuld I more monys make?
Þe seuene synnys I forsake
And to þese seuene vertuis I me take.
Maydyn Meknes, now mercy!

HUMILITAS.
Mercy may mende al þi mone.
Cum in here at þynne owyn wylle.

We schul þe fende fro þi fon
If þou kepe þe in þis castel stylle.

Cum sancto sanctus eris, et cetera.

Tunc intrabit
Stonde hereinne as stylle as ston;
Þanne schal no dedly synne þe spylle.
Wheþyr þat synnys cumme or gon,
Þou schalt wyth us þi bourys bylle,
Wyth vertuse we schul þe vaunce.
Þis castel is of so qweynt a gynne
Þat whoso euere holde hym þerinne
He schal neuere fallyn in dedly synne;
It is þe Castel of Perseueranse.

Qui perseuerauerit usque in finem, hic saluus erit.

Tunc cantabunt ‘Eterne rex altissime’, et dicet
HUMILITAS.
Now blyssyd be Oure Lady, of heuene Emperes!
Now is Mankynde fro foly falle
And is in þe Castel of Goodnesse.
He hauntyth now heuene halle
Þat schal bryngyn hym to heuene.
Crist þat dyed wyth dyen dos
Kepe Mankynd in þis castel clos
And put alwey in hys purpos
To fle þe synnys seuene!

MALUS ANGELUS.

Nay, be Belyals bryth bonys,
Þer schal he no whyle dwelle.
He schal be wonne fro þese wonys
Wyth þe Werld, þe Flesch, and þe Deuyl of hell.
Þei schul my wyl awreke.
Þe synnys seuene, þo kyngys thre,
To Mankynd haue enmyte.
Scharpely þei schul helpyn me
Þis castel for to breke.

Howe, Flypyrgebet, Bakbytere!
Ȝerne oure message loke þou make.

Blythe about loke þou bere.
Sey Mankynde hys synnys hath forsake.
Wyth ȝene wenchys he wyl hym were,
Al to holynesse he hath hym take.
In myn hert it doth me dere,
Þe bost þat þo moderys crake;
My galle gynnyth to grynde.
Flepyrgebet, ronne upon a rasche.
Byd þe Werld, þe Fend, and þe Flesche
Þat þey com to fytyn fresche
To wynne aȝeyn Mankynde.

DETRACCIO.
I go, I go, on grounde glad,
Swyftyr þanne schyp wyth rodyr.
I make men masyd and mad
And euery man to kyllyn odyr
Wyth a sory chere.
I am glad, be Seynt Jamys of Galys,
Of schrewdnes to tellyn talys
Boþyn in Ingelond and in Walys,
And feyth I haue many a fere.

Tunc ibit ad BELIAL

SCENE XIII

Heyl, set in þyn selle!
Heyl, dynge Deuyl in þi delle!
Heyl, lowe in helle!
I cum to þe talys to telle.

BELYAL.
Bakbyter, boy,
Alwey be holtys and hothe,
Sey now, I sey,
What tydyngys? Telle me þe sothe.

DETRACCIO.
Teneful talys I may þe sey,
To þe no good, as I gesse:
Mankynd is gon now awey
Into þe Castel of Goodnesse.

Þer he wyl boþe lyuyn and deye
In dale of dros tyl deth hym dresse;
Hathe þe forsakyn, forsoþe I sey,
And all þi werkys more and lesse;
To ȝone castel he gan to crepe.
Ȝone modyr Meknes, sothe to sayn,
And all ȝene maydnys on ȝone playn
For to fytyn þei be ful fayn
Mankynd for to kepe.

Tunc vocabit SUPERBIAM, INUIDIAM, et IRAM
SUPERBIA.
Syr kynge, what wytte?
We be redy þrotys to kytte.

BELYAL.
Sey, gadelyngys—haue ȝe harde grace
And euyl deth mote ȝe deye!—
Why lete ȝe Mankynd fro ȝou pase
Into ȝene castel fro us aweye?
Wyth tene I schal ȝou tey.
Harlotys, at onys
Fro þis wonys!
Be Belyals bonys,
Ȝe schul abeye.

Et verberabit eos super terram
DETRACCIO.
Ȝa, for God, þis was wel goo,
Þus to werke wyth bakbytynge.
I werke boþe wrake and woo
And make iche man oþyr to dynge.
I schal goo abowte and makyn moo
Rappys for to route and rynge.
Ȝe bakbyterys, loke þat ȝe do so.
Make debate abowtyn to sprynge
Betwene systyr and broþyr.
If any bakbyter here be lafte,
He may lere of me hys crafte.
Of Goddys grace he schal be rafte
And euery man to kyllyn oþyr.

SCENE XIV

[DETRACCIO]
Ad CARNEM:
Heyl, kynge, I calle!
Heyl, prinse, proude prekyd in palle!
Heyl, hende in halle!
Heyl, syr kynge, fayre þe befalle!

CARO.
Boy Bakbytynge,
Ful redy in robys to rynge,
Ful glad tydynge,
Be Belyalys bonys, I trow þow brynge.

DETRACCIO.
Ȝa, for God, owt I crye
On þi too sonys and þi dowtyr ȝynge:
Glotoun, Slawthe, and Lechery
Hath put me in gret mornynge.
Þey let Mankynd gon up hye
Into ȝene castel at hys lykynge,
Þerin for to leue and dye,
Wyth þo ladys to make endynge,
Þo flourys fayre and fresche.
He is in þe Castel of Perseuerauns
And put hys body to penauns.
Of hard happe is now þi chauns,
Syre kynge, Mankyndys Flesche.

Tunc CARO clamabit ad GULAM, ACCIDIAM, et LUXURIAM
LUXURIA.
Sey now þi wylle.
Syr Flesch, why cryest þou so schylle?

CARO.
A, Lechery, þou skallyd mare!
And þou Gloton, God ȝeue þe wo!
And vyle Slawth, euyl mote þou fare!
Why lete ȝe Mankynd fro ȝou go
In ȝone castel so hye?
Euele grace com on þi snowte!

Now I am dressyd in gret dowte.
Why ne had ȝe lokyd betyr abowte?
Be Belyalys bonys, ȝe schul abye.

Tunc uerberabit eos in placeam
DETRACCIO.
Now, be God, þis is good game!
I, Bakbyter, now bere me wel.
If I had lost my name,
I vow to God it were gret del.
I schape þese schrewys to mekyl schame;
Iche rappyth on oþyr wyth rowtynge rele.
I, Bakbyter, wyth fals fame
Do brekyn and brestyn hodys of stele.
Þorwe þis cuntre I am knowe.
Now wyl I gynne forth to goo
And make Coueytyse haue a knoke or too,
And þanne iwys I haue doo
My deuer, as I trowe.

SCENE XV

[DETRACCIO]
Ad MUNDUM:
Heyl, styf in stounde!
Heyl, gayly gyrt upon grounde!
Heyl, fayre flowr ifounde!
Heyl, Syr Werld, worþi in wedys wonde!

MUNDUS.
Bakbyter in rowte,
Þou tellyst talys of dowte,
So styf and so stowte.
What tydyngys bryngyst þou abowte?

DETRACCIO.
Noþynge goode, þat schalt þou wete.
Mankynd, Syr Werld, hath þe forsake.
Wyth Schryfte and Penauns he is smete
And to ȝene castel he hath hym take

Amonge ȝene ladys whyt as lake.
Lo, Syr Werld, ȝe moun agryse
Þat ȝe be seruyd on þis wyse.
Go pley ȝou wyth Syr Coyeytyse
Tyl hys crowne crake.

Tunc buccinabit cornu ad AUARICIAM
AUARICIA.
Syr bolnynge bowde,
Tell me why blowe ȝe so lowde!

MUNDUS.
Lewde losel, þe Deuel þe brenne!
I prey God ȝeue þe a fowl hap!
Sey, why letyst þou Mankynd
Into ȝene castel for to skape?
I trowe þou gynnyst to raue.
Now, for Mankynd is went,
Al oure game is schent.
Þerfore a sore dryuynge dent,
Harlot, þou schalt haue.

Tunc verberabit eum
AUARICIA.
Mercy, mercy! I wyl no more.
Þou hast me rappyd wyth rewly rowtys.
I snowre, I sobbe, I sye sore.
Myn hed is clateryd al to clowtys.
In al ȝoure state I schal ȝou store
If ȝe abate ȝoure dyntys dowtys.
Mankynd, þat ȝe haue forlore,
I schal do com owt fro ȝone skowtys
To ȝoure hende hall.
If ȝe wyl no more betyn me,
I schal do Mankynd com out fre.
He schal forsake, as þou schalt se,
Þe fayre vertus all.

MUNDUS.

Haue do þanne, þe Deuyl þe tere!
Þou schalt ben hangyn in hell herne.
Bylyue my baner up þou bere
And besege we þe castel ȝerne

Mankynd for to stele.
Whanne Mankynd growyth good,
I, þe Werld, am wyld and wod.
Þo bycchys schul bleryn in here blood
Wyth flappys felle and fele.

Ȝerne lete flapyr up my fane
And schape we schame and schonde.
I schal brynge wyth me þo bycchys bane;
Þer schal no vertus dwellyn in my londe.
Mekenes is þat modyr þat I mene,
To hyre I brewe a byttyr bonde.
Sche schal dey upon þis grene
If þat sche com al in myn honde,
Ȝene rappokys wyth here rumpys.
I am þe Werld. It is my wyll
Þe Castel of Vertu for to spyll.
Howtyth hye upon ȝene hyll,
Ȝe traytours, in ȝoure trumpys.

SCENE XVI

Tunc MUNDUS, CUPIDITAS, et STULTICIA ibunt ad castellum cum vexillo et dicet DEMON:
BELYAL.

I here trumpys trebelen al of tene.
Þe worþi Werld walkyth to werre
For to clyuyn ȝone castel clene,
Þo maydnys meyndys for to merre.
Sprede my penon upon a prene
And stryke we forthe now vndyr sterre.
Schapyth now ȝoure scheldys schene
Ȝene skallyd skoutys for to skerre
Upon ȝone grene grese.
Buske ȝou now, boyes, belyue.

For euere I stonde in mekyl stryue;
Whyl Mankynd is in clene lyue
I am neuere wel at ese.

Make ȝou redy, all þre,
Bolde batayl for to bede.
To ȝone feld lete us fle
And bere my baner forthe on brede.
To ȝone castel wyl I te;
Þo mamerynge modrys schul haue here mede.
But þei ȝeld up to me,
Wyth byttyr balys þei schul blede,
Of here reste I schal hem reue.
In woful watyrs I schal hem wasche.
Haue don, felaus, and take ȝoure trasche
And wende we þedyr on a rasche
Þat castel for to cleue.

SUPERBIA.
Now, now, now, go now!
On hye hyllys lete us howte;
For in pride is al my prow
Þi bolde baner to bere abowte.
To Golyas I make avow
For to schetyn ȝone iche skowte.
On hyr ars, raggyd and row,
I schal boþe clatyr and clowte
And ȝeue Meknesse myschanse.
Belyal bryth, it is þyn hest
Þat I, Pride, goo þe nest
And bere þi baner beforn my brest
Wyth a comly contenaunce.

SCENE XVII

CARO.

I here an hydowse whwtynge on hyt.
Belyue byd my baner forth for to blase.
Whanne I syt in my sadyl it is a selkowth syt;
I gape as a gogmagog whanne I gynne to gase.

Þis worthy wylde werld I wagge wyth a wyt;
Ȝone rappokys I ruble and al to-rase;
Boþe wyth schot and wyth slynge I caste wyth a sleyt
Wyth care to ȝone castel to crachen and to crase
In flode.
I am mans Flesch; where I go
I am mans most fo;
Iwys I am euere wo
Whane he drawyth to goode.

Þerfor, ȝe bolde boyes, buske ȝou abowte.
Scharply on scheldys ȝour schaftys ȝe scheuere.
And Lechery ledron, schete þou a skoute.
Help we Mankynd fro ȝone castel to keuere.
Helpe we moun hym wynne.
Schete we all at a schote
Wyth gere þat we cunne best note
To chache Mankynd fro ȝene cote
Into dedly synne.

GULA.
Lo, Syr Flesch, whov I fare to þe felde,
Wyth a faget on myn hond for to settyn on a fyre.
Wyth a wrethe of þe wode wel I can me welde;
Wyth a longe launce þo loselys I schal lere.
Go we wyth oure gere.
Þo bycchys schul bleykyn and blodyr;
I schal makyn swyche a powdyr,
Boþe wyth smoke and wyth smodyr,
Þei schul schytyn for fere.

Tunc descendent in placeam

SCENE XVIII

MALUS ANGELUS
dicet ad BELYAL:
As armys! as an herawd, hey now I howte.
Deuyl, dyth þe as a duke to do þo damyselys dote.
Belyal, as a bolde boy þi brodde I bere abowte;
Helpe to cache Mankynd fro caytyfys cote.

Pryd, put out þi penon of raggys and of rowte.
Do þis modyr Mekenes meltyn to mote.
Wrethe, prefe Paciens, þe skallyd skowte.
Envye, to Charyte schape þou a schote
Ful ȝare.
Wyth Pryde, Wrethe, and Envye,
Þese deuelys, be downys drye,
As comly kyngys I dyscrye
Mankynd to kachyn to care.
Ad CARNEM:
Flesch, frele and fresche, frely fed,
Wyth Gloton, Slawthe, and Lechery mans sowle þou slo.
As a duke dowty do þe to be dred.
Gere þe wyth gerys fro toppe to þe too.
Kyth þis day þou art a kynge frely fedde.
Gloton, sle þou Abstynensce wyth wyckyd woo.
Wyth Chastyte, þou Lechour, be not ouyrledde.
Slawthe, bete þou Besynes on buttokys bloo.
Do now þi crafte, in coste to be knowe.
Ad MUNDUM:
Worthy, wytty, and wys, wondyn in wede,
Lete Coueytyse karpyn, cryen, and grede.
Here ben bolde bacheleris batyl to bede,
Mankynd to tene, as I trowe.

HUMANUM GENUS.

Þat dynge Duke þat deyed on rode
Þis day my sowle kepe and safe!
Whanne Mankynd drawyth to goode
Beholde what enmys he schal haue!
Þe Werld, þe Deuyl, þe Flesche arn wode;
To men þei casten a careful kaue;
Byttyr balys þei brewyn on brode
Mankynd in wo to weltyr and waue,
Lordyngys, sothe to sey.
Þerfore iche man be war of þis,
For whyl Mankynd clene is
Hys enmys schul temptyn hym to don amys
If þei mown be any wey.

Omne gaudium existimate cum variis temptacionibus insideritis.

Þerfore, lordys, beth now glad
Wyth elmesdede and orysoun
For to don as Oure Lord bad,
Styfly wythstonde ȝoure temptacyoun.
Wyth þis foul fende I am ner mad.
To batayle þei buskyn hem bown.
Certys I schuld ben ouyrlad,
But þat I am in þis castel town,
Wyth synnys sore and smerte.
Whoso wyl leuyn oute of dystresse
And ledyn hys lyf in clennesse
In þis Castel of Vertu and of Goodnesse
Hym muste haue hole hys hert.

Delectare in Domino et dabit tibi peticiones cordis tui.

BONUS ANGELUS.
A, Mekenesse, Charyte, and Pacyens,
Prymrose pleyeth parlasent.
Chastyte, Besynes, and Abstynens,
Myn hope, ladys, in ȝou is lent.
Socoure, paramourys, swetter þanne sens,
Rode as rose on rys irent.
Þis day ȝe dyth a good defens.
Whyl Mankynd is in good entent
His þoutys arn vnhende.
Mankynd is browt into þis walle
In freelte to fadyn and falle.
Þerfore, ladys, I pray ȝou alle,
Helpe þis day Mankynde.

HUMILITAS.

God, þat syttyth in heuene on hy,
Saue al Mankynd be se and sonde!
Lete hym dwellyn here and ben vs by
And we schul puttyn to hym helpynge honde.
Ȝyt forsoþe neuere I sy
Þat any fawte in vs he fonde
But þat we sauyd hym fro synne sly
If he wolde be us styfly stonde

In þis castel of ston.
Þerfor drede þe not, mans aungel dere.
If he wyl dwellyn wyth vs here
Fro seuene synnys we schul hym were
And his enmys ichon.

Now, my seuene systerys swete,
Þis day fallyth on us þe lot
Mankynd for to schylde and schete
Fro dedly synne and schamely schot.
Hys enmys strayen in þe strete
To spylle man wyth spetows spot.
Þerfor oure flourys lete now flete
And kepe we hym, as we haue het,
Among vs in þis halle.
Þerfor, seuene systerys swote,
Lete oure vertus reyne on rote.
Þis day we wyl be mans bote
Ageyns þese deuelys alle.

BELYAL.
Þis day þe vaward wyl I holde.
Avaunt my baner, precyous Pride,
Mankynd to cache to karys colde.
Bold batayl now wyl I byde.
Buske ȝou, boyes, on brede.
Alle men þat be wyth me wytholde,
Boþe þe ȝonge and þe olde,
Envye, Wrathe, ȝe boyes bolde,
To rounde rappys ȝe rape, I rede.

SUPERBIA.
As armys, Mekenes! I brynge þi bane,
Al wyth pride peyntyd and pyth.
What seyst þou, faytour? be myn fayr fane,
Wyth robys rounde rayed ful ryth,
Grete gounse, I schal þe gane.
To marre þe, Mekenes, wyth my myth,
No werldly wyttys here ar wane.
Lo, þi castel is al beset!
Moderys, whov schul ȝe do?
Mekenes, ȝeld þe to me, I rede.

Myn name in londe is precyous Prede.
Myn bolde baner to þe I bede.
Modyr, what seyste þerto?

HUMILITAS.

Ageyns þi baner of pride and bost
A baner of meknes and mercy
I putte ageyns pride, wel þou wost,
Þat schal schende þi careful cry.
Þis meke kynge is knowyn in euery cost
Þat was croysyd on Caluary.
Whanne he cam doun fro heuene ost
And lytyd wyth mekenes in Mary,
Þis lord þus lytyd lowe.
Whanne he cam fro þe Trynyte
Into a maydyn lytyd he,
And al was for to dystroye þe,
Pride, þis schalt þou knowe.

Deposuit potentes de sede et cetera.

For whanne Lucyfer to helle fyl,
Pride, þerof þou were chesun,
And þou, deuyl, wyth wyckyd wyl
In paradys trappyd us wyth tresun.
So þou us bond in balys ille,
Þis may I preue be ryth resun,
Tyl þis duke þat dyed on hylle
In heuene man myth neuere han sesun;
Þe gospel þus declaryt.
For whoso lowe hym schal ben hy,
Þerfore þou schalt not comen us ny,
And þou þou be neuere so sly,
I schal felle al þi fare.

Qui se exaltat humiliabitur et cetera.

IRA.
Dame Pacyens, what seyst þou to Wrathe and Ire?
Putte Mankynd fro þi castel clere,
Or I schal tappyn at þi tyre
Wyth styffe stonys þat I haue here.

I schal slynge at þe many a vyre
And ben avengyd hastely here.
Þus Belsabub, oure gret syre,
Bad me brenne þe wyth wyld fere,
Þou bycche blak as kole.
Þerfor fast, fowle skowte,
Putte Mankynd to us owte,
Or of me þou schalt haue dowte,
Þou modyr, þou motyhole!

PACIENCIA.

Fro þi dowte Crist me schelde
Þis iche day, and al mankynde!
Þou wrecchyd Wrethe, wood and wylde,
Pacyens schal þe schende.

Quia ira viri justiciam Dei non operatur.

For Marys sone, meke and mylde,
Rent þe up, rote and rynde,
Whanne he stod meker þanne a chylde
And lete boyes hym betyn and bynde,
Þerfor, wrecche, be stylle.
For þo pelourys þat gan hym pose,
He myth a dreuyn hem to dros,
And ȝyt, to casten hym on þe cros,
He sufferyd al here wylle.

Þowsentys of aungellys he myth han had
To a wrokyn hym þer ful ȝerne,
And ȝyt to deyen he was glad
Us pacyens to techyn and lerne.
Þerfor, boy, wyth þi boystous blad,
Fare awey be feldys ferne.
For I wyl do as Jhesu bad,
Wrecchys fro my wonys werne
Wyth a dyngne defens.
If þou fonde to comyn alofte
I schal þe cacche fro þis crofte
Wyth þese rosys swete and softe,
Peyntyd wyth pacyens.

INUIDIA.
Out, myn herte gynnyth to breke,
For Charyte þat stondyth so stowte.
Alas, myn herte gynnyth to wreke.
Ȝelde up þis castel, þou hore clowte.
It is myn offyce fowle to speke,
Fals sklaundrys to bere abowte.
Charyte, þe Deuyl mote þe cheke
But I þe rappe wyth rewly rowte,
Þi targe for to tere.
Let Mankynde cum to us doun
Or I schal schetyn to þis castel town
A ful fowle defamacyoun.
Þerfore þis bowe I bere.

CARITAS.

Þou þou speke wycke and fals fame,
Þe wers schal I neuere do my dede.
Whoso peyryth falsly anoþyr mans name,
Cristys curs he schal haue to mede.

Ve homini illi per quem scandalum venit.

Whoso wyl not hys tunge tame,
Take it sothe as mes-crede,
Wo, wo to hym and mekyl schame!
In holy wrytte þis I rede.
For euere þou art a schrewe.
Þou þou speke euyl, I ne ȝeue a gres;
I schal do neuere þe wers.
At þe last þe sothe vers
Certys hymself schal schewe.

Oure louely Lord wythowtyn lak
Ȝaf example to charyte,
Whanne he was betyn blo and blak
For trespas þat neuere dyd he.
In sory synne had he no tak
And ȝyt for synne he bled blody ble.
He toke hys cros upon hys bak,
Synful man, and al for þe.

Þus he mad defens.
Envye, wyth þi slaundrys þycke,
I am putte at my Lordys prycke;
I wyl do good aȝeyns þe wycke
And kepe in sylens.

BELYAL.
What, for Belyalys bonys,
Whereabowtyn chyde ȝe?
Haue don, ȝe boyes, al at onys.
Lasche don þese moderys, all þre.
Werke wrake to þis wonys.
Þe vaunward is grauntyd me.
Do þese moderys to makyn monys.
Ȝoure dowty dedys now lete se.
Dasche hem al to daggys.
Haue do, boyes blo and blake.
Wirke þese wenchys wo and wrake.
Claryouns, cryeth up at a krake,
And blowe ȝour brode baggys!

Tunc pugnabunt diu
SUPERBIA.
Out, my proude bak is bent!
Mekenes hath me al forbete.
Pride wyth Mekenes is forschent.
I weyle and wepe wyth wondys wete;
I am betyn in þe hed.
My prowde pride adoun is dreuyn;
So scharpely Mekenes hath me schreuyn
Þat I may no lengyr leuyn,
My lyf is me bereuyd.

INVIDIA.
Al myn enmyte is not worth a fart;
I schyte and schake al in my schete.
Charyte, þat sowre swart,
Wyth fayre rosys myn hed gan breke.
I brede þe malaundyr.
Wyth worthi wordys and flourys swete

Charyte makyth me so meke
I dare neyþyr crye nore crepe,
Not a schote of sklaundyr.

IRA.
I, Wrethe, may syngyn weleawo.
Pacyens me ȝaf a sory dynt.
I am al betyn blak and blo
Wyth a rose þat on rode was rent.
My speche is almost spent.
Hyr rosys fel on me so scharpe
Þat myn hed hangyth as an harpe.
I dar neyþyr crye nor carpe,
Sche is so pacyent.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Go hens, ȝe do not worthe a tord.
Foule falle ȝou, alle foure!
Ȝerne, ȝerne, let fall on bord,
Syr Flesch, wyth þyn eyn soure.
For care I cukke and koure.
Syr Flesch, wyth þyn company,
Ȝerne, ȝerne, make a cry.
Helpe we haue no velony
Þat þis day may be oure.

CARO.
War, war, late mans Flesche go to!
I com wyth a company.
Haue do, my chyldryn, now haue do,
Glotoun, Slawth, and Lechery.
Iche of ȝou wynnyth a scho.
Lete not Mankynde wynne maystry.
Lete slynge hem in a fowl slo
And fonde to feffe hym wyth foly.
Dothe now wel ȝoure dede.
Ȝerne lete se whov ȝe schul gynne
Mankynde to temptyn to dedly synne.
If ȝe muste þis castelle wynne
Hell schal be ȝour mede.

GULA.
War, Syr Gloton schal makyn a smeke
Aȝeyns þis castel, I vowe.

Abstynens, þou þou bleyke,
I loke on þe wyth byttyr browe.
I haue a faget in myn necke
To settyn Mankynd on a lowe.
My foul leye schalt þou not let,
I wou to God, as I trowe.
Þerfor putte hym out here.
In meselynge glotonye,
Wyth goode metys and drynkys trye,
I norche my systyr Lecherye
Tyl man rennyth on fere.

ABSTINENCIA.

Þi metys and drynkys arn vnthende
Whanne þei are out of mesure take.
Þei makyn men mad and out of mende
And werkyn hem bothe wo and wrake.
Þat for þi fere þou þou here kyndyl,
Certys I schal þi wele aslake
Wyth bred þat browth us out of hell
And on þe croys sufferyd wrake:
I mene þe sacrament.
Þat iche blysful bred
Þat hounge on hyl tyl he was ded
Schal tempere so myn maydynhed
Þat þi purpos schal be spent.

In abstynens þis bred was browth,
Certys, Mankynde, and al for þe.
Of fourty dayes ete he nowth
And þanne was naylyd to a tre.

Cum jejunasset quadraginta diebus et cetera.

Example us was betawth,
In sobyrnesse he bad us be.
Þerfor Mankynd schal not be cawth,
Glotony, wyth þy degre.
Þe sothe þou schalt se.
To norysch fayre þou þou be fawe,
Abstynens it schal wythdrawe
Tyl þou be schet vndyr schawe
And fayn for to fle.

LUXURIA.
Lo, Chastyte, þou fowle skowte!
Þis ilke day here þou schalt deye.
I make a fer in mans towte
Þat launcyth up as any leye.
Þese cursyd colys I bere abowte
Mankynde in tene for to teye.
Men and wommen hathe no dowte
Wyth pyssynge pokys for to pleye.
I bynde hem in my bondys.
I haue no reste, so I rowe,
Wyth men and wommen, as I trowe,
Tyl I, Lechery, be set on a lowe
In al Mankyndys londys.

CASTITAS.

I, Chastyte, haue power in þis place
Þe, Lechery, to bynd and bete.
Maydyn Marye, well of grace,
Schal qwenche þat fowle hete.

Mater et Virgo, extingue carnales concupiscentias!

Oure Lord God mad þe no space
Whanne his blod strayed in þe strete.
Fro þis castel he dyd þe chase
Whanne he was crounyd wyth þornys grete
And grene.
To drery deth whanne he was dyth
And boyes dyd hym gret dyspyth,
In lechery had he no delyth,
And þat was ryth wel sene.

At Oure Lady I lere my lessun
To haue chaste lyf tyl I be ded.
Sche is qwene and beryth þe croun,
And al was for hyr maydynhed.
Þerfor go fro þis castel toun,
Lechery, now I þe rede,
For Mankynd getyst þou nowth doun

To soloyen hym wyth synful sede.
In care þou woldys hym cast.
And if þou com up to me,
Trewly þou schalt betyn be
Wyth þe ȝerde of Chastyte
Whyl my lyf may last.

ACCIDIA.
Ware, war, I delue wyth a spade.
Men calle me þe lord Syr Slowe.
Gostly grace I spylle and schade;
Fro þe watyr of grace þis dyche I fowe.
Ȝe schulyn com ryth inowe
Be þis dyche drye, be bankys brede.
Thyrti thousende þat I wel knowe
In my lyf louely I lede
Þat had leuere syttyn at þe ale
Thre mens songys to syngyn lowde
Þanne toward þe chyrche for to crowde.
Þou Besynesse, þou bolnyd bowde,
I brewe to þe þyne bale.

SOLICITUDO.

A, good men, be war now all
Of Slugge and Slawthe, þis fowl þefe!
To þe sowle he is byttyrer þanne gall;
Rote he is of mekyl myschefe.
Goddys seruyse, þat ledyth us to heuene hall,
Þis lordeyn for to lettyn us is lefe.
Whoso wyl schryuyn hym of hys synnys all,
He puttyth þis brethel to mykyl myschefe,
Mankynde he þat myskaryed.
Men moun don no penauns for hym þis,
Nere schryue hem whanne þey don amys,
But euyr he wold in synne iwys
Þat Mankynd were taryed.

Þerfor he makyth þis dyke drye
To puttyn Mankynde to dystresse.
He makyth dedly synne a redy weye
Into þe Castel of Goodnesse.

But wyth tene I schal hym teye,
Þorwe þe helpe of heuene emperesse.
Wyth my bedys he schal abeye,
And oþyr ocupacyons more and lesse
I schal schape hym to schonde,
For whoso wyle Slawth putte doun
Wyth bedys and wyth orysoun
Or sum oneste ocupacyoun,
As boke to haue in honde.

Nunc lege nunc ora nunc disce nuncque labora.

CARO.
Ey, for Belyalys bonys, þe kynge,
Whereabowte stonde ȝe al-day?
Caytyuys, lete be ȝour kakelynge
And rappe at rowtys of aray.
Glotony, þou fowle gadlynge,
Sle Abstynens, if þou may.
Lechery, wyth þi werkynge,
To Chastyte make a wyckyd aray
A lytyl þrowe.
And whyl we fyth
For owre ryth,
In bemys bryth
Late blastys blowe.

Tunc pugnabunt diu
GULA.
Out, Glotoun, adown I dryue.
Abstynens hathe lost my myrth.
Syr Flesch, I schal neuere thryue;
I do not worthe þe deuelys dyrt;
I may not leuyn longe.
I am al betyn, toppe and tayl;
Wyth Abstynens wyl I no more dayl;
I wyl gon cowche qwayl
At hom in ȝour gonge.

LUXURIA.
Out on Chastyte, be þe rode!
Sche hathe me dayschyd and so drenchyd.

Ȝyt haue sche þe curs of God
For al my fere þe qwene hath qwenchyd.
For ferd I fall and feynt.
In harde ropys mote sche ryde!
Here dare I not longe abyde.
Sumwhere myn hed I wolde hyde
As an irchoun þat were schent.

ACCIDIA.
Out, I deye! ley on watyr!
I swone, I swete, I feynt, I drulle!
Ȝene qwene wyth hyr pytyr-patyr
Hath al to-dayschyd my skallyd skulle.
It is as softe as wulle.
Or I haue here more skathe,
I schal lepe awey, be lurkynge lathe,
Þere I may my ballokys bathe
And leykyn at þe fulle.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Ȝa, þe Deuyl spede ȝou, al þe packe!
For sorwe I morne on þe mowle,
I carpe, I crye, I coure, I kacke,
I frete, I fart, I fesyl fowle.
I loke lyke an howle.
Ad MUNDUM:
Now, Syr World, whatso it cost,
Helpe now, or þis we haue lost;
Al oure fare is not worth a thost;
Þat makyth me to mowle.

MUNDUS.
How, Coveytyse, banyour avaunt!
Here comyth a batayl nobyl and newe;
For syth þou were a lytyl faunt,
Coveytyse, þou hast ben trewe.
Haue do þat damysel, do hyr dawnt.
Byttyr balys þou hyr brewe.
Þe medys, boy, I þe graunt,
Þe galows of Canwyke to hangyn on newe,
Þat wolde þe wel befalle.
Haue don, Syr Coueytyse.

Wyrke on þe best wyse.
Do Mankynde com and aryse
Fro ȝone vertuse all.

AUARICIA.
How, Mankynde! I am atenyde
For þou art þere so in þat holde.
Cum and speke wyth þi best frende,
Syr Coueytyse, þou knowyst me of olde.
What deuyl schalt þou þer lenger lende
Wyth grete penaunce in þat castel colde?
Into þe werld if þou wylt wende,
Amonge men to bere þe bolde,
I rede, be Seynt Gyle.
How, Mankynde! I þe sey,
Com to Coueytyse, I þe prey.
We to schul togedyr pley,
If þou wylt, a whyle.

LARGITAS.

A, God helpe! I am dysmayed,
I curse þe, Coveytyse, as I can;
For certys, treytour, þou hast betrayed
Nerhand now iche erthely man.
So myche were men neuere afrayed
Wyth Coueytyse, syn þe werld began.
God almythy is not payed.
Syn þou, fende, bare þe Werldys bane,
Ful wyde þou gynnyst wende.
Now arn men waxyn ner woode;
Þey wolde gon to helle for werldys goode.
Þat Lord þat restyd on þe rode
Is maker of an ende.

Maledicti sunt auariciosi hujus temporis.

Þer is no dysese nor debate
Þorwe þis wyde werld so rounde,
Tyde nor tyme, erly nor late,
But þat Coveytyse is þe grounde.

Þou norchyst pride, envye, and hate,
Þou Coueytyse, þou cursyd hounde.
Criste þe schelde fro oure gate
And kepe us fro þe saf and sounde
Þat þou no good here wynne!
Swete Jhesu, jentyl justyce,
Kepe Mankynde fro Coueytyse,
For iwys he is, in al wyse,
Rote of sorwe and synne.

AUARICIA.
What eylyth þe, Lady Largyte,
Damysel dyngne upon þi des?
And I spak ryth not to þe,
Þerfore I prey þe holde þi pes.
How, Mankynde! cum speke wyth me,
Cum ley þi loue here in my les.
Coueytyse is a frend ryth fre,
Þi sorwe, man, to slake and ses.
Coueytyse hathe many a ȝyfte.
Mankynd, þyne hande hedyr þou reche.
Coueytyse schal be þi leche.
Þe ryth wey I schal þe teche
To thedom and to þryfte.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Coueytyse, whedyr schuld I wende?
What wey woldyst þat I sulde holde?
To what place woldyst þou me sende?
I gynne to waxyn hory and olde.
My bake gynnyth to bowe and bende,
I crulle and crepe and wax al colde.
Age makyth man ful vnthende,
Body and bonys and al vnwolde;
My bonys are febyl and sore.
I am arayed in a sloppe,
As a ȝonge man I may not hoppe,
My nose is colde and gynnyth to droppe,
Myn her waxit al hore.

AUARICIA.
Petyr! þou hast þe more nede
To haue sum good in þyn age:
Markys, poundys, londys and lede,
Howsys and homys, castell and cage.
Þerfor do as I þe rede;
To Coueytyse cast þi parage.
Cum, and I schal þyne erdyn bede;
Þe worthi Werld schal ȝeue þe wage,
Certys not a lyth.
Com on, olde man, it is no reprefe
Þat Coueytyse be þe lefe.
If þou deye at any myschefe
It is þiselfe to wyth.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Nay, nay, þese ladys of goodnesse
Wyl not lete me fare amys,
And þou I be a whyle in dystresse,
Whanne I deye I schal to blysse.
It is but foly, as I gesse,
Al þis werldys wele iwys.
Þese louely ladys, more and lesse,
In wyse wordys þei telle me þys.
Þus seyth þe bok of kendys.
I wyl not do þese ladys dyspyt
To forsakyn hem for so lyt.
To dwellyn here is my delyt;
Here arn my best frendys.

AUARICIA.
Ȝa, up and don þou take þe wey
Þorwe þis werld to walkyn and wende
And þou schalt fynde, soth to sey,
Þi purs schal be þi best frende.
Þou þou syt al-day and prey,
No man schal com to þe nor sende,
But if þou haue a peny to pey,
Men schul to þe þanne lystyn and lende
And kelyn al þi care.
Þerfore to me þou hange and helde

And be coueytous whylys þou may þe welde.
If þou be pore and nedy in elde
Þou schalt oftyn euyl fare.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Coueytyse, þou seyst a good skyl.
So grete God me avaunce,
Al þi byddynge don I wyl.
I forsake þe Castel of Perseueraunce.
In Coueytyse I wyl me hyle
For to gete sum sustynaunce.
Aforn mele men mete schul tyle;
It is good for al chaunce
Sum good owhere to hyde.
Certys þis ȝe wel knowe,
It is good, whouso þe wynde blowe,
A man to haue sumwhat of hys owe,
What happe so-euere betyde.

BONUS ANGELUS.
A, ladyse, I prey ȝou of grace,
Helpyth to kepe here Mankynne.
He wyl forsake þis precyous place
And drawe aȝeyn to dedly synne.
Helpe, ladys, louely in lace.
He goth fro þis worthi wonnynge.
Coueytyse awey ȝe chace
And schyttyth Mankynd sumwhere here-inne,
In ȝoure worþi wyse.
Ow, wrechyd man, þou schalt be wroth,
Þat synne schal be þe ful loth.
A, swete ladys, helpe, he goth
Awey wyth Coueytyse.

Tunc descendit ad AUARICIAM
HUMILITAS.
Good Aungyl, what may I do þerto?
Hymselfe may hys sowle spylle.
Mankynd to don what he wyl do,
God hath ȝouyn hym a fre wylle.

Þou he drenche and hys sowle slo,
Certys we may not do þeretylle.
Syn he cam þis castel to,
We dyd to hym þat vs befelle
And now he hath us refusyd.
As longe as he was wythinne þis castel walle,
We kepte hym fro synne, ȝe sawe wel alle;
And now he wyl aȝeyn to synne falle,
I preye ȝou holde us excusyd.

PACIENCIA.
Resun wyl excusyn us alle.
He helde þe ex be þe helue.
Þou he wyl to foly falle,
It is to wytyn but hymselue.
Whyl he held hym in þis halle,
Fro dedly synne we dyd hym schelue.
He brewyth hymselfe a byttyr galle;
In dethys dynt whanne he schal delue
Þis game he schal begrete.
He is endewyd wyth wyttys fyue
For to rewlyn hym in hys lyue.
We vertuse wyl not wyth hym stryue,
Avyse hym and hys dede.

CARITAS.
Of hys dede haue we nowt to done;
He wyl no lenger wyth us be lad.
Whanne he askyd out, we herd hys bone,
And of hys presens we were ryth glad.
But, as þou seste, he hath forsakyn us sone;
He wyl not don as Crist hym bad.
Mary, þi Sone abouyn þe mone
As make Mankynd trewe and sad,
In grace for to gon.
For if he wyl to foly flyt,
We may hym not wythsyt.
He is of age and can hys wyt,
Ȝe knowe wel euerychon.

ABSTINENCIA.
Ichon ȝe knowyn he is a fole,
In Coueytyse to dyth hys dede.

Werldys wele is lyke a thre-fotyd stole,
It faylyt a man at hys most nede.

Mundus transit et concupiscencia ejus.

Whanne he is dyth in dedys dole,
Þe ryth regystre I schal hym rede;
He schal be tore wyth teneful tole;
Whanne he schal brenne on glemys glede
He schal lere a new lawe.
Be he neuere so ryche of werldys wone,
Hys seketouris schul makyn here mone:
‘Make us mery and lete hym gone!
He was a good felawe.’

CASTITAS.
Whanne he is ded here sorwe is lest.
Þe ton sekatour seyth to þe tothyr:
‘Make we mery and a ryche fest
And lete hym lyn in dedys fodyr.’

Et sic relinquent alienis diuicias suas.

So hys part schal be þe lest;
Þe systyr seruyt þus þe brothyr.
I lete a man no betyr þanne a best,
For no man can be war be oþyr
Tyl he hathe al ful spunne.
Þou schalt se þat day, man, þat a bede
Schal stonde þe more in stede
Þanne al þe good þat þou mytyst gete,
Certys vndyr sunne.

SOLICITUDO.
Mankynde, of on þynge haue I wondyr:
Þat þou takyst not into þyn mende,
Whanne body and sowle schul partyn on sundyr
No werldys good schal wyth þe wende.

Non descendet cum illo gloria ejus.

Whanne þou art ded and in þe erthe leyd vndyr
Mysgotyn good þe schal schende;
It schal þe weyen as peys in pundyr
Þi sely sowle to bryngyn in bende

And make it ful vnþende.
And ȝyt Mankynd, as it is sene,
Wyth Coueytyse goth on þis grene.
Þe treytor doth us al þis tene
Aftyr hys lyuys ende.

LARGITAS.
Out, I crye, and noþynge lowe,
On Coueytyse, as I wel may.
Mankynd seyth he hath neuere inowe
Tyl hys mowthe be ful of clay.

Auarus numquam replebitur pecunia.

Whane he is closyd in dethis dow
What helpyt ryches or gret aray?
It flyet awey as any snow
Anon aftyr þye endynge day,
To wylde werldys wyse.
Now, good men alle þat here be,
Haue my systerys excusyd and me,
Þou Mankynde fro þis castel fle.
Wyte it Coueytyse.

MALUS ANGELUS.
Ȝa, go forthe and lete þe qwenys cakle!
Þer wymmen arn are many wordys.
Lete hem gon hoppyn wyth here hakle!
Þer ges syttyn are many tordys.
Wyth Coueytyse þou renne on rakle
And hange þyne hert upon hys hordys.
Þou schalt be schakyn in myn schakle;
Vnbynde þi baggys on hys bordys,
On hys benchys aboue.
Parde, þou gost owt of Mankynde
But Coueytyse be in þi mende.
If euere þou þynke to be thende,
On hym þou ley þi loue.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Nedys my loue muste on hym lende,
Wyth Coueytyse to waltyr and wave.
I knowe non of al my kynde
Þat he ne coueytyth for to haue.

Penyman is mekyl in mynde;
My loue in hym I leye and laue.
Where þat euere I walke or wende
In wele and woo he wyl me haue;
He is gret of grace.
Whereso I walke in londe or lede
Penyman best may spede;
He is a duke to don a dede
Now in euery place.

BONUS ANGELUS.
Alas, þat euere Mankynde was born!
On Coueytyse is al hys lust.
Nyth and day, mydnyth and morn,
In Penyman is al hys trust.
Coueytyse schal makyn hym lorn
Whanne he is doluen al to dust;
To mekyl schame he schal be schorn,
Wyth foule fendys to roten and rust.
Alas, what schal I do?
Alas, alas, so may I say.
Man goth wyth Coueytyse away.
Haue me excusyd, for I ne may
Trewly not do þerto.

MUNDUS.
A, a, þis game goth as I wolde.
Mankynde wyl neuere þe Werld forsake.
Tyl he be ded and vndyr molde
Holy to me he wyl hym take.
To Coveytyse he hath hym ȝolde;
Wyth my wele he wyl awake;
For a thousende pounde I nolde
But Coveytyse were Mans make,
Certys on euery wyse.
All þese gamys he schal bewayle,
For I, þe Werld, am of þis entayle,
In hys moste nede I schal hym fayle,
And al for Coveytyse.

SCENE XIX

AUARICIA.
Now, Mankynd, be war of þis:
Þou art a-party wele in age.
I wolde not þou ferdyst amys;
Go we now knowe my castel cage.
In þis bowre I schal þe blys;
Worldly wele schal be þi wage;
More mucke þanne is þyne iwys
Take þou in þis trost terage
And loke þat þou do wronge.
Coveytyse, it is no sore,
He wyl þe feffen ful of store,
And alwey, alwey sey ‘more and more’,
And þat schal be þi songe.

HUMANUM GENUS.
A, Coveytyse, haue þou good grace!
Certys þou beryst a trewe tonge.
‘More and more’, in many a place,
Certys þat songe is oftyn songe.
I wyste neuere man, be bankys bace,
So seyn in cley tyl he were clonge:
‘Inow, inow’ hadde neuere space,
Þat ful songe was neuere songe,
Nor I wyl not begynne.
Goode Coveytyse, I þe prey
Þat I myth wyth þe pley.
Ȝeue me good inow, or þat I dey,
To wonne in werldys wynne.

AUARICIA.
Haue here, Mankynd, a thousend marke.
I, Coveytyse, haue þe þis gote.
Þou mayst purchase þerwyth bothe ponde and parke
And do þerwyth mekyl note.
Lene no man hereof, for no karke,
Þou he schulde hange be þe þrote,
Monke nor frere, prest nor clerke,
Ne helpe þerwyth chyrche nor cote,
Tyl deth þi body delue.
Þou he schuld sterue in a caue,

Lete no pore man þerof haue.
In grene gres tyl þou be graue
Kepe sumwhat fore þiselue.

HUMANUM GENUS.
I vow to God, it is gret husbondry.
Of þe I take þese noblys rownde.
I schal me rapyn, and þat in hye,
To hyde þis gold vndyr þe grownde.
Þer schal it ly tyl þat I dye,
It may be kepte þer saue and sownde.
Þou my neygbore schuld be hangyn hye,
Þerof getyth he neythyr peny nor pownde.
Ȝyt am I not wel at ese.
Now wolde I haue castel wallys,
Stronge stedys and styf in stallys.
Wyth hey holtys and hey hallys,
Coveytyse, þou muste me sese.

AUARICIA.
Al schalt þou haue al redy, lo,
At þyn owyn dysposycyoun.
Al þis good take þe to,
Clyffe and cost, toure and toun.
Þus hast þou gotyn in synful slo
Of þyne neygborys be extorcyoun.
‘More and more’ sey ȝyt, haue do,
Tyl þou be ded and drepyn dounn;
Werke on wyth werldys wrenchys.
‘More and more’ sey ȝyt, I rede,
To more þanne inow þou hast nede.
Al þis werld, bothe lenthe and brede,
Þi coveytyse may not qwenche.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Qwenche neuere no man may;
Me þynkyth neuere I haue inow.
Þer ne is werldys wele, nyth nor day,
But þat me thynkyth it is to slow.
‘More and more’ ȝit I say
And schal euere whyl I may blow;
On Coveytyse is al my lay
And schal tyl deth me ouyrthrow.

‘More and more’, þis is my steuene.
If I myth alwey dwellyn in prosperyte,
Lord God, þane wel were me.
I wolde, þe medys, forsake þe
And neuere to comyn in heuene.

SCENE XX

MORS.

Ow, now it is tyme hye
To castyn Mankynd to Dethys dynt.
In all hys werkys he is vnslye;
Mekyl of hys lyf he hath myspent.
To Mankynd I ney ny,
Wyth rewly rappys he schal be rent.
Whanne I com iche man drede forþi,
But ȝyt is þer no geyn-went,
Hey hyl, holte, nyn hethe.
Ȝe schul me drede euerychone;
Whanne I come ȝe schul grone;
My name in londe is lefte alone:
I hatte drery Dethe.

Drery is my deth-drawth;
Ageyns me may no man stonde.
I durke and downbrynge to nowth
Lordys and ladys in euery londe.
Whomso I haue a lessun tawth,
Onethys sythen schal he mowe stonde;
In my carful clothys he schal be cawth,
Ryche, pore, fre and bonde;
Whanne I come þei goo no more.
Whereso I wende in any lede,
Euery man of me hat drede.
Lette I wyl for no mede
To smyte sadde and sore.

Dyngne dukys arn adred
Whanne my blastys arn on hem blowe.

Lordys in londe arn ouyrled;
Wyth þis launce I leye hem lowe.
Kyngys kene and knytys kyd,
I do hem deluyn in a throwe,
In banke I buske hem abed,
Sad sorwe to hem I sowe,
I tene hem, as I trowe.
As kene koltys þow þey kynse,
Ageyns me is no defens.
In þe grete pestelens
Þanne was I wel knowe.

But now almost I am forȝete;
Men of Deth holde no tale.
In coveytyse here good þey gete;
Þe grete fyschys ete þe smale.
But whane I dele my derne dette
Þo prowde men I schal avale.
Hem schal helpyn noþyr mel nor mete
Tyl þey be drewyn to dethys dale;
My lawe þei schul lerne.
Þer ne is peny nor pownde
Þat any of ȝou schal saue sownde.
Tyl ȝe be grauyn vndyr grownde
Þer may no man me werne.

To Mankynde now wyl I reche;
He hathe hole hys hert on Coveytyse.
A newe lessun I wyl hym teche
Þat he schal bothe grwcchyn and gryse.
No lyf in londe schal ben hys leche;
I schal hym proue of myn empryse;
Wyth þis poynt I schal hym broche
And wappyn hym in a woful wyse.
Nobody schal ben hys bote.
I schal þe schapyn a schenful schappe.
Now I kylle þe wyth myn knappe!
I reche to þe, Mankynd, a rappe
To þyne herte rote.

HUMANUM GENUS.

A, Deth, Deth! drye is þi dryfte.
Ded is my desteny.
Myn hed is cleuyn al in a clyfte;
For clappe of care now I crye;
Myn eyeledys may I not lyfte;
Myn braynys waxyn al emptye;
I may not onys myn hod up schyfte;
Wyth Dethys dynt now I dey!
Syr Werld, I am hent.
Werld, Werld, haue me in mende!
Goode Syr Werld, helpe now Mankend!
But þou me helpe, Deth schal me schende.
He hat dyth to me a dynt.

Werld, my wyt waxyt wronge;
I chaunge boþe hyde and hewe;
Myn eyeledys waxyn al outewronge;
But þou me helpe, sore it schal me rewe.
Now holde þat þou haste behete me longe,
For all felechepys olde and newe,
Lesse me of my peynys stronge.
Sum bote of bale þou me brewe
Þat I may of þe ȝelpe.
Werld, for olde aqweyntawns,
Helpe me fro þis sory chawns.
Deth hathe lacchyd me wyth hys launce.
I deye but þou me helpe.

MUNDUS.
Owe, Mankynd, hathe Dethe wyth þe spoke?
Ageyns hym helpyth no wage.
I wolde þou were in þe erthe beloke
And anoþyr hadde þyne erytage.
Oure bonde of loue schal sone be broke;
In colde clay schal be þy cage;
Now schal þe Werld on þe be wroke
For þou hast don so gret outrage.
Þi good þou schalt forgoo.
Werldlys good þou hast forgon
And wyth tottys þou schalt be torn.

Þus haue I seruyd here-beforn
A hundryd thousand moo.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Ow, Werld, Werld, euere worthe wo!
And þou, synful Coveytyse!
Whanne þat a man schal fro ȝou go
Ȝe werke wyth hym on a wondyr wyse.
Þe wytte of þis werld is sorwe and wo.
Be ware, good men, of þis gyse!
Þus hathe he seruyd many on mo.
In sorwe slakyth al hys asyse;
He beryth a tenynge tungge.
Whyl I leyd wyth hym my lott
Ȝe seyn whou fayre he me behott;
And now he wolde I were a clott
In colde cley for to clynge.

MUNDUS.
How, boy, aryse! now þou muste wende
On myn erdyn, be steppe and stalle.
Go brewe Mankynd a byttyr bende
And putte hym oute of hys halle.
Lete hym þerinne no lenger lende.
Forbrostyn, I trowe, be hys galle
For þou art not of hys kende.
All hys erytage wyl þe wele befalle.
Þus faryth myn fayre feres.
Oftyn tyme I haue ȝou told,
Þo men þat ȝe arn to lest behold
Comynly schal ȝoure wonnynge wold
And ben ȝoure next eyrys.

GARCIO.
Werld worthy, in wedys wounde,
I þanke þe for þi grete ȝyfte.
I go glad upon þis grounde
To putte Mankynde out of hys þryfte.
I trowe he stynkyth þis ilke stounde.
Into a lake I schal hym lyfte.
Hys parkys, placys, and penys rounde,
Wyth me schul dryuen in þis dryfte

In baggys as þei ben bownde.
For I þynke for to dele,
I vow to God, neythyr corn nore mele.
If he haue a schete he beryth hym wele
Whereinne he may be wounde.
Tunc iet ad HUMANUM GENUS
Whou faryst, Mankynde? art þou ded?
Be Goddys body, so I wene.
He is heuyer þanne any led.
I wold he were grauyn vndyr grene.

HUMANUM GENUS.
Abyde, I breyd uppe wyth myn hed.
What art þou? what woldyst þou mene?
Wheydyr comyst þou for good or qwed?
Wyth peynys prycke þou doste me tene,
Þe sothe for to sey.
Telle me now, so God þe saue,
Fro whom comyst þou, good knaue?
What dost þou here? what woldyst þou haue?
Telle me or I deye.

GARCIO.
I am com to haue al þat þou hast,
Ponndys, parkys, and euery place.
Al þat þou hast gotyn fyrst and last,
Þe Werld hathe grauntyd it me of hys grace
For I haue ben hys page.
He wot wel þou schalt be ded,
Neueremore to ete bred;
Þerfore he hath for þe red
Who schal haue þyne erytage.

HUMANUM GENUS.
What deuyl! þou art not of my kyn.
Þou dedyst me neuere no maner good.
I hadde leuer sum nyfte or sum cosyn
Or sum man hadde it of my blod.
In sum stede I wold it stod.

Now schal I in a dale be delue
And haue no good þerof myselue.
Be God and be hys apostelys twelue,
I trowe þe Werld be wod.

GARCIO.
Ȝa, ȝa, þi parte schal be þe leste.
Deye on, for I am maystyr here.
I schal þe makyn a nobyl feste
And þanne haue I do myn deuere.
Þe Werld bad me þis gold areste,
Holt and hallys and castell clere.
Þe Werldys joye and hys jentyl jeste
Is now þyne, now myn, boþe fere and nere.
Go hens, for þis is myne.
Syn þou art ded and browth of dawe,
Of þi deth, syr, I am ryth fawe.
Þou þou knowe not þe Werldys lawe,
He hath ȝoue me al þat was þyne.

HUMANUM GENUS.
I preye þe now, syn þou þis good schalt gete,
Telle þi name or þat I goo.

GARCIO.
Loke þat þou it not forȝete:
My name is I Wot Neuere Whoo.

HUMANUM GENUS.

I Wot Neuere Who! so welaway!
Now am I sory of my lyf.
I haue purchasyd many a day
Londys and rentys wyth mekyl stryf.
I haue purchasyd holt and hay,
Parkys and ponndys and bourys blyfe,
Goode gardeynys wyth gryffys gay,
To myne chyldyr and to myn wyfe
In dethe whanne I were dyth.
Of my purchas I may be wo,
For, as þout, it is not so,
But a gedelynge I Wot Neuere Who
Hath al þat þe Werld me behyth.

Now, alas, my lyf is lak.
Bittyr balys I gynne to brewe.
Certis a vers þat Dauid spak
I þe sawter I fynde it trewe:

Tesauriȝat et ignorat cui congregabit ea.

Tresor, tresor, it hathe no tak;
It is oþyr mens, olde and newe.
Ow, ow, my good gothe al to wrak!
Sore may Mankynd rewe.
God kepe me fro dyspayr!
Al my good, wythout fayle,
I haue gadryd wyth gret trauayle,
Þe Werld hathe ordeynyd of hys entayle
I Wot Neuere Who to be myn eyr.

Now, good men, takythe example at me.
Do for ȝoureself whyl ȝe han spase.
For many men þus seruyd be
Þorwe þe werld in dyuerse place.
I bolne and bleyke in blody ble
And as a flour fadyth my face.
To helle I schal bothe fare and fle
But God me graunte of hys grace.
I deye certeynly.
Now my lyfe I haue lore.
Myn hert brekyth, I syhe sore.
A word may I speke no more.
I putte me in Goddys mercy.

SCENE XXI

ANIMA.

‘Mercy’, þis was my last tale
Þat euere my body was abowth.
But Mercy helpe me in þis vale,
Of dampnynge drynke sore I me doute.
Body, þou dedyst brew a byttyr bale
To þi lustys whanne gannyst loute.
Þi sely sowle schal ben akale;
I beye þi dedys wyth rewly rowte,

And al it is for gyle.
Euere þou hast be coueytows
Falsly to getyn londe and hows.
To me þou hast browyn a byttyr jows.
So welaway þe whyle!

Now, swet Aungel, what is þi red?
Þe rythe red þou me reche.
Now my body is dressyd to ded
Helpe now me and be my leche.
Dyth þou me fro deuelys drede.
Þy worthy weye þou me teche.
I hope þat God wyl helpyn and be myn hed
For ‘mercy’ was my laste speche;
Þus made my body hys ende.
[OMITTED]

MALUS ANGELUS.
Wyttnesse of all þat ben abowte,
Syr Coueytyse he had hym owte.
Þerfor he schal, wythoutyn dowte,
Wyth me to helle pytt.

BONUS ANGELUS.

Ȝe, alas, and welawo!
Aȝeyns Coueytyse can I not telle.
Resun wyl I fro þe goo,
For, wrechyd sowle, þou muste to helle.
Coueytyse, he was þi fo;
He hathe þe schapyn a schameful schelle;
Þus hathe seruyd many on mo
Tyl þei be dyth to dethys delle,
To byttyr balys bowre.
Þou muste to peyne, be ryth resun,
Wyth Coveytyse, for he is chesun.
Þou art trappyd ful of tresun
But Mercy be þi socowre.

For ryth wel þis founde I haue
Aȝeyns Rythwysnesse may I not holde.
Þou muste wyth hym to careful caue
For grete skyllys þat he hathe tolde.

Fro þe awey I wandyr and waue;
For þe I clynge in carys colde.
Alone now I þe laue
Whylyst þou fallyst in fendys folde,
In helle to hyde and hylle.
Rytwysnesse wyl þat þou wende
Forthe awey wyth þe fende.
But Mercy wyl to þe sende,
Of þe can I no skylle.

ANIMA.
Alas, Mercy, þou art to longe!
Of sadde sorwe now may I synge.
Holy wryt it is ful wronge
But Mercy pase alle þynge.
I am ordeynyd to peynys stronge,
In wo is dressyd myn wonnynge,
In helle on hokys I schal honge,
But mercy fro a welle sprynge.
Þis deuyl wyl haue me away.
Weleaway! I was ful wod
Þat I forsoke myn Aungyl Good
And wyth Coueytyse stod
Tyl þat day þat I schuld dey.

MALUS ANGELUS.

Ȝa, why woldyst þou be coueytous
And drawe þe agayn to synne?
I schal þe brewe a byttyr jous;
In bolnynnge bondys þou schalt brenne.
In hye helle schal be þyne hous,
In pycke and ter to grone and grenne;
Þou schalt lye drenkelyd as a movs;
Þer may no man þerfro þe werne
For þat ilke wyll.
Þat day þe ladys þou forsoke
And to my counsel þou þe toke,
Þou were betyr anhangyn on hoke
Upon a jebet hyll.

Farter fowle, þou schalt be frayed
Tyl þou be frettyd and al forbled.
Foule mote þou be dysmayed
Þat þou schalt þus ben ouyrled.
For Coueytyse þou hast asayed
In byttyr balys þou schalt be bred.
Al mankynd may be wel payed
Whou Coueytyse makyth þe adred.
Wyth rappys I þe rynge.
We schul to hell, bothe to,
And bey in inferno.
Nulla est redempcio
For no kynnys þynge.

Now dagge we hens a dogge trot.
In my dongion I schal þe dere.
On þe is many a synful spot;
Þerfore þis schame I schal þe schere
Whanne þou comyst to my neste.
Why woldyst þou, schrewe schalt neuere þe,
But in þi lyue don aftyr me?
And þi Good Aungyl tawth þe
Alwey to þe beste.

Ȝa, but þou woldyst hym not leue;
To Coueytyse alwey þou drow.
Þerfore schalt þou euyl preue;
Þat foul synne þi soule slow.
I schal fonde þe to greue
And putte þe in peynnys plow.
Haue þis, and euyl mote þou scheue,
For þou seydyst neuere ‘inow, inow’
Þus lacche I þe þus lowe.
Þow þou kewe as a kat,
For þi coueytyse haue þou þat!
I schal þe bunche wyth my bat
And rouge þe on a rowe.

Lo, synful tydynge,
Boy, on þi bak I brynge.
Spedely þou sprynge.
Þi placebo I schal synge.

To deuelys delle
I schal þe bere to helle.
I wyl not dwelle.
Haue good day! I goo to helle.

SCENE XXII

MISERICORDIA.

A mone I herd of mercy meve
And to me, Mercy, gan crye and call;
But if it haue mercy, sore it schal me greve,
For ell it schal to hell fall.
Rythwysnes, my systyr cheve,
Þys ȝe herde; so dyde we all.
For we were mad frendys leve
Whanne þe Jevys proferyd Criste eysyl and gall
On þe Good Fryday.
God grauntyd þat remission,
Mercy, and absolicion,
Þorwe vertu of hys passion,
To no man schuld be seyd nay.

Þerfore, my systyr Rytwysnes,
Pes, and Trewthe, to ȝou I tell,
Whanne man crieth mercy, and wyl not ses,
Mercy schal be hys waschynge-well:
Wytnesse of Holy Kyrke.
For þe leste drope of blode
Þat God bledde on þe rode
It hadde ben satysfaccion goode
For al Mankyndys werke.

JUSTICIA.

Systyr, ȝe sey me a good skyl,
Þat mercy pasyt mannys mysdede.

But take mercy whoso wyl
He muste it aske wyth love and drede;
And eueryman þat wyl fulfyll
Þe dedly synnys and folw mysdede,
To graunte hem mercy me þynkyth it no skyl;
And þerfore, systyr, ȝou I rede
Lete hym abye hys mysdede.
For þou he lye in hell and stynke,
It schal me neuere ouyrþynke.
As he hath browyn, lete hym drynke;
Þe Devyl schal qwyte hym hys mede.

Vnusquisque suum honus portabit.

Trowe ȝe þat whanne a man schal deye,
Þanne þow þat he mercy craue,
Þat anon he schal haue mercye?
Nay, nay, so Crist me saue!

Non omne qui dicit ‘Domine, Domine’ intrabit regnum celorum.

For schuld no man do no good
All þe dayes of hys lyve
But hope of mercy be þe rode
Schulde make boþe werre and stryve
And torne to gret grewaunse.
Whoso in hope dothe any dedly synne
To hys lyvys ende, and wyl not blynne,
Rytfully þanne schal he wynne
Crystis gret vengaunse.

VERITAS.

Rytwysnes, my systyr fre,
Ȝour jugement is good and trewe.
In good feyth so þynkyth me;
Late hym hys owyn dedys rewe.
I am Veritas and trew wyl be
In word and werke to olde and newe.
Was neuere man in fawte of me
Dampnyd nor savyd, but it were dew.

I am euere at mans ende.
Whanne body and sowle partyn atwynne,
Þanne wey I hys goode dedys and hys synne,
And weydyr of hem be more or mynne
He schal it ryth sone fynde.

For I am Trewþe and trewþe wyl bere,
As grete God hymself vs byd.
Þer schal noþynge þe sowle dere
But synne þat þe body dyd.
Syth þat he deyed in þat coveytous synne,
I, Trewþe, wyl þat he goo to pyne.
Of þat synne cowde he not blynne;
Þerfore he schal hys sowle tyne
To þe pytte of hell.
Ellys schuld we, boþe Trewþe and Rytwysnes,
Be put to ouyrmekyl dystresse
And euery man schuld be þe wers
Þat þerof myth here tell.

PAX.

Pes, my systyr Verite!
I preye ȝou, Rytwysnes, be stylle!
Lete no man be ȝou dampnyd be
Nor deme ȝe no man to helle.
He is on kyn tyl vs thre,
Þow he haue now not al hys wylle.
For hys loue þat deyed on tre,
Late saue Mankynd fro al peryle
And schelde hym fro myschaunsse.
If ȝe tweyne putte hym to dystresse
It schuld make gret hevynesse
Betwene vs tweyne, Mercy and Pes,
And þat were gret grevaunce.

Rytwysnes and Trewthe, do be my red,
And Mercy, go we to ȝone hey place.
We schal enforme þe hey Godhed
And pray hym to deme þis case.

Ȝe schal tell hym ȝoure entent
Of Trewthe and of Rytwysnesse,
And we schal pray þat hys jugement
May pase be vs, Mercy and Pes.
All foure, now go we hens
Wytly to þe Trinite
And þer schal we sone se
What þat hys jugement schal be,
Wythovtyn any deffens.

Tunc ascendent ad PATREM omnes pariter et dicet VERITAS:

SCENE XXIII

VERITAS.
Heyl, God almyth!
We cum, þi dowterys in syth,
Trewth, Mercy, and Ryth,
And Pes, pesyble in fyth.

MISERICORDIA.
We cum to preve
If Man, þat was þe ful leve,
If he schal cheve
To hell or heuene, be þi leve.

JUSTICIA.
I, Rytwysnes,
Þi dowtyr as I ges,
Late me, neuereþelesse,
At þi dom putte me in pres.

PAX.
Pesyble kynge,
I, Pes, þi dowtyr ȝynge,
Here my preyinge
Whanne I pray þe, Lord, of a thynge.

DEUS.
Welcum in fere,
Bryther þanne blossum on brere!
My dowterys dere,
Cum forth and stand ȝe me nere.

VERITAS.

Lord, as þou art Kyng of kyngys, crownyd wyth crowne,
As þou lovyste me, Trewthe, þi dowtyr dere,
Lete neuere me, Trewþe, to fall adowne,
My feythful Fadyr, saunz pere!

Quoniam veritatem dilexisti.

For in all trewthe standyth þi renowne,
Þi feyth, þi hope, and þi powere,
Lete it be sene, Lord, now at þi dome,
Þat I may haue my trewe prayere
To do trewþe to Mankynd.
For if Mankynd be dempte be ryth
And not be mercy, most of myth,
Here my trewthe, Lord, I þe plyth,
In presun man schal be pynyd.

Lord, whov schuld Mankynd be savyd,
Syn he dyed in dedly synne
And all þi comaundementys he depravyd
And of fals covetyse he wolde neuere blynne?

Aurum sitisti, aurum bibisti.

Þe more he hadde, þe more he cravyd,
Whyl þe lyf lefte hym wythinne.
But he be dampnyd I am abavyd
Þat Trewthe schuld com of rytwys kynne,
And I am þi dowtyr Trewþe.
Þou he cried mercy, moriendo,
Nimis tarde penitendo,
Talem mortem reprehendo.
Lete hym drynke as he brewyth!

Late repentaunce if man saue scholde,
Wheyþyr he wrouth wel or wyckydnesse,
Þanne euery man wold be bolde
To trespas in trost of forȝevenesse.
For synne in hope is dampnyd, I holde;
Forgevyn is neuere hys trespase.

100

He synnyth in þe Holy Gost manyfolde.
Þat synne, Lord, þou wylt not reles
In þis werld nor in þe toþyr.
Quia veritas manet in eternum,
Tendit homo ad infernum,
Nunquam venit ad supernum,
Þou he were my broþyr.

For man on molde halt welthe and wele,
Lust and lykynge in al hys lyfe,
Techynge, prechynge, in euery sele,
But he forgetyth þe Lord belyve.
Hye of hert, happe and hele,
Gold and syluyr, chyld and wyf,
Denteth drynke at mete and mele,
Vnnethe þe to þanke he can not kyth
In any maner thynge.
Whanne mans welþe gynnyth awake
Ful sone, Lord, þou art forsake.
As he hathe browne and bake,
Trewthe wyl þat he drynke.

For if Man haue mercy and grace
Þanne I, þi dowtyr Sothfastnesse,
At þi dom schal haue no place
But be putte abak be wronge dures.
Lord, lete me neuere fle þi fayr face
To make my power any lesse!
I pray þe, Lord, as I haue space,
Late Mankynd haue dew dystresse
In helle fere to be brent.
In peyne loke he be stylle,
Lord, if it be þi wylle,
Or ell I haue no skylle
Be þi trew jugement.

MISERICORDIA.

O Pater misericordiarum et Deus tocius consolacionis,
qui consolatur nos in omni tribulacione nostra!

101

O þou Fadyr, of mytys moste,
Mercyful God in Trinite!
I am þi dowtyr, wel þou woste,
And mercy fro heuene þou browtyst fre.
Schew me þi grace in euery coste!
In þis cas my counforte be!
Lete me, Lord, neuere be loste
At þi jugement, whovso it be,
Of Mankynd.
Ne had mans synne neuere cum in cas
I, Mercy, schuld neuere in erthe had plas.
Þerfore graunte me, Lord, þi grace,
Þat Mankynd may me fynd.

And mercy, Lord, haue on þis man
Aftyr þi mercy, þat mekyl is,
Vnto þi grace þat he be tan,
Of þi mercy þat he not mys!
As þou descendyst fro þi trone
And lyth in a maydyns wombe iwys,
Incarnat was in blod and bone,
Lat Mankynd cum to þi blys,
As þou art Kynge of heuene!
For werldly veynglory
He hathe ben ful sory,
Punchyd in purgatory
For all þe synnys seuene.

Si pro peccato vetus Adam non cecidisset, Mater pro nato numquam grauidata fuisset.

Ne had Adam synnyd here-before
And þi hestys in paradys had offent,
Neuere of þi modyr þou schuldyst a be bore,
Fro heuene to erthe to haue be sent.
But thyrti wyntyr here and more,
Bowndyn and betyn and al to-schent,
Scornyd and scovrgyd sadde and sore,
And on þe rode rewly rent,

102

Passus sub Pilato Poncio.
As þou henge on þe croys
On hye þou madyste a voys,
Mans helthe, þe gospel seys,
Whanne þou seydyst ‘Scitio’.

scilicet, salutem animarum.

Þane þe Jeves þat were vnquert
Dressyd þe drynke, eysyl and galle.
It to taste þou myth nowth styrt
But seyd ‘Consummatum est’ was alle.
A knyt wyth a spere so smert,
Whanne þou forgafe þi fomen þrall,
He stonge þe, Lord, vnto þe hert.
Þanne watyr and blod gan ovte wall,
Aqua baptismatis et sanguis redempcionis.
Þe watyr of baptomm,
Þe blod of redempcioun
Þat fro þin herte ran doun
Est causa saluacionis.

Lord, þou þat man hathe don more mysse þanne good,
If he dey in very contricioun,
Lord, þe lest drope of þi blod
For hys synne makyth satysfaccioun.
As þou deydyst, Lord, on þe rode,
Graunt me my peticioun!
Lete me, Mercy, be hys fode,
And graunte hym þi saluacion,
Quia dixisti ‘Misericordiam seruabo’.
‘Mercy’ schal I synge and say
And ‘miserere’ schal I pray
For Mankynd euere and ay.
Misericordias Domini in eternum cantabo.

JUSTICIA.

Rythwys Kynge, Lord God almyth,
I am þi dowtyr Rythwysnesse.
Þou hast louyd me euere, day and nyth,
As wel as oþyr, as I gesse.

103

Justicias Dominus justicia dilexit.

If þou mans kynde fro peyne aquite,
Þou dost ageyns þyne owyn processe.
Lete hym in preson to be pyth
For hys synne and wyckydnesse,
Of a bone I þe pray.
Ful oftyn he hathe þe, Lord, forsake
And to þe Devyl he hathe hym take.
Lete hym lyn in hell lake,
Dampnyd for euere and ay.

Quia Deum, qui se genuit, dereliquit.

For whanne Man to þe werld was bornn
He was browth to Holy Kyrke,
Feythly followd in þe funte-ston
And wesch fro orygynal synne so dyrke.
Satanas he forsok as hys fone,
All hys pompe and al hys werke,
And hyth to serue þe alone;
To kepe þi commandementys he schuld not irke,
Sicut justi tui.
But whanne he was com to mans astate
All hys behestys he þanne forgate.
He is worþi be dampnyd for þat,
Quia oblitus est Domini creatoris sui.

For he hathe forgetyn þe þat hym wrout
And formydiste hym lyke þyne owyn face
And wyth þi precyous blod hym bowth
And in þis world þou ȝeue hym space.
All þi benefetys he set at nowth
But toke hym to þe Deuelys trase,
Þe Flesch, þe World, was most in his þowth
And purpose to plese hem in euery plase,
So grymly on grounde.

104

I pray þe, Lord lovely,
Of man haue no mercy,
But, dere Lord, lete hym ly,
In hell lete hym be bounde!

Man hathe forsake þe Kynge of heuene
And hys Good Aungels gouernaunce
And solwyd hys sovle wyth synnys seuene
Be hys Badde Aungels comberaunce.
Vertuis he putte ful evyn away
Whanne Coveytyse gan hym avaunce.
He wende þat he schulde a levyd ay,
Tyl Deth trypte hym on hys daunce,
He loste hys wyttys fyve.
Ouyrlate he callyd Confescion;
Ouyrlyt was hys contricioun;
He made neuere satisfaccioun.
Dampne hym to helle belyve!

For if þou take Mans sowle to þe
Ageyns þi Rythwysnesse,
Þou dost wronge, Lorde, to Trewth and me
And puttys us fro oure devnesse.
Lord, lete vs neuere fro þe fle,
Ner streyne vs neuere in stresse,
But late þi dom be by vs thre
Mankynde in hell to presse,
Lord, I þe beseche!
For Rytwysnes dwellys euere sure
To deme Man aftyr hys deseruiture,
For to be dampnyd it is hys vre,
On Man I crie wreche.

Letabitur justus cum viderit vindictam.

MISERICORDIA.

Mercy, my systyr Rythwysnes!
Þou schape Mankynde no schonde.
Leve systyr, lete be þi dresse.
To saue Man lete vs fonde.

105

For if Man be dampnyd to hell dyrknes,
Þanne myth I wryngyn myn honde
Þat euere my state schulde be les,
My fredam to make bonde.
Mankynd is of oure kyn.
For I, Mercy, pase al thynge
Þat God made at þe begynnynge
And I am hys dowtyr ȝynge,
Dere systyr, lete be þi dyn!

Et misericordia ejus super omnia opera ejus.

Of Mankynde aske þou neuere wreche
Be day ner be nyth,
For God hymself hath ben hys leche,
Of hys mercyful myth.
To me he gan hym beteche,
Besyde al hys ryth.
For hym wyl I prey and preche
To gete hym fre respyth,
And my systyr Pese.
For hys mercy is wythout begynnynge
And schal be wythoutyn endynge,
As Dauid seyth, þat worthy kynge;
In scriptur is no les.

Et misericordia ejus a progenie in progenies et cetera.

VERITAS.
Mercy is Mankynde non worthy,
Dauid þou þou recorde and rede,
For he wolde neuere þe hungry
Neyþyr clothe nor fede,
Ner drynke gyf to þe þrysty,
Nyn pore men helpe at nede.
For if he dyd non of þese, forþy
In heuene he getyth no mede.
So seyth þe gospel.
For he hathe ben vnkynde
To lame and to blynde
In helle he schal be pynde.
So is resun and skyl.

106

PAX.

Pesible Kyng in majeste,
I, Pes þi dowtyr, aske þe a bonn
Of Man, whouso it be.
Lord, graunte me myn askynge sonn,
Þat I may euermore dwelle wyth þe
As I haue euere ȝyt donn,
And lat me neuere fro þe fle,
Specialy at þi dome
Of Man, þi creature.
Þou my systyr Ryth and Trewthe
Of Mankynd haue non rewthe,
Mercy and I ful sore vs mewythe
To cacche hym to our cure.

For whanne þou madyst erthe and hevyn,
Ten orderys of aungelys to ben in blys,
Lucyfer, lyter þanne þe leuyn
Tyl whanne he synnyd, he fel iwys.
To restore þat place ful evyn
Þou madyst Mankynd wyth þys
To fylle þat place þat I dyd nevene.
If þy wyl be resun it is,
In pes and rest,
Amonge þyne aungels bryth
To worchep þe in syth,
Graunt, Lord God almyth!
And so I holde it best.

For þou Truthe, þat is my systyr dere,
Arguyth þat Man schuld dwell in wo
And Rytwysnes wyth hyr powere
Wolde fayn and fast þat it were so,
But Mercy and I, Pes, bothe in fere,
Schal neuere in feyth acorde þerto,
Þanne schuld we euere dyscorde here
And stande at bate for frend or foo
And euere at dystaunce.
Þerfore my counseyl is

107

Lete vs foure systerys kys
And restore Man to blys,
As was Godys ordenaunce.

Misericordia et Veritas obuiauerunt sibi, Justicia et Pax osculate sunt.

For if ȝe, Ryth and Truthe, schuld haue ȝour wylle,
I, Pes, and Mercy schuld euere haue trauest.
Þanne vs betwene had bene a gret perylle
Þat oure joyes in heuene schuld a ben lest.
Þerfore, gentyl systerys, consentyth me tyll,
Ellys betwene oureself schuld neuere be rest.
Where schuld be luf and charite, late þer cum non ille.
Loke oure joyes be perfyth, and þat I holde þe best,
In heueneryche blys.
For þer is pes wythowtyn were,
Þere is rest wythowtyn fere,
Þer is charite wythowtyn dere.
Our Fadyris wyll so is.

Hic pax, hic bonitas, hic laus, hic semper honestas.

Þerfore, jentyl systerys, at on word,
Truth, Ryth, and Mercy hende,
Lete us stonde at on acord,
At pes wythowtyn ende.
Late loue and charyte be at oure bord,
Alle venjauns awey wende,
To heuene þat Man may be restoryd,
Lete us be all hys frende
Before oure Fadyrs face.
We schal deuoutly pray
At dredful domysday
And I schal for vs say
Þat Mankynd schal haue grace.

Et tuam, Deus, deposcimus pietatem ut ei tribuere digneris lucidas et quietas mansiones.

Lord, for þi pyte and þat pes
Þou sufferyst in þi pascioun,

108

Boundyn and betyn, wythout les,
Fro þe fote to þe croun,
Tanquam ouis ductus es
Whanne gutte sanguis ran adoun,
Ȝyt þe Jves wolde not ses
But on þyn hed þei þryst a croun
And on þe cros þe naylyd.
As petously as þou were pynyd,
Haue mercy of Mankynd,
So þat he may fynde
Oure preyer may hym avayle.

PATER sedens in trono. Ego cogito cogitaciones pacis, non affliccionis.

Fayre falle þe, Pes, my dowtyr dere!
On þe I þynke and on Mercy.
Syn ȝe acordyd beth in all in fere,
My jugement I wyl ȝeue ȝou by
Not aftyr deseruynge to do reddere,
To dampne Mankynde to turmentry,
But brynge hym to my blysse ful clere
In heuene to dwelle endelesly,
At ȝour prayere forþi.
To make my blysse perfyth
I menge wyth my most myth
Alle pes, sum treuthe, and sum ryth,
And most of my mercy.

Misericordia Domini plena est terra. Amen!

Dicet filiabus:

My dowters hende,
Lufly and lusti to lende,
Goo to ȝone fende
And fro hym take Mankynd.

Brynge hym to me
And set hym here be my kne,
In heuene to be,
In blysse wyth gamyn and gle.

109

VERITAS.
We schal fulfylle
Þin hestys, as resun and skylle,
Fro ȝone gost grylle
Mankynde to brynge þe tylle.

Tunc ascendent ad MALUM ANGELUM omnes pariter et dicet
PAX.
A, þou foule wyth,
Lete go þat soule so tyth!
In heuene lyth
Mankynde sone schal be pyth.

JUSTICIA.
Go þou to helle,
Þou devyl bold as a belle,
Þerin to dwelle,
In bras and brimston to welle!

Tunc ascendent ad tronum
MISERICORDIA.

Lo here Mankynd,
Lyter þanne lef is on lynde,
Þat hath ben pynyd.
Þi mercy, Lord, lete hym fynde!

PATER sedens in judicio. Sicut sintilla in medio maris.

My mercy, Mankynd, ȝeue I þe.
Cum syt at my ryth honde.
Ful wel haue I louyd þe,
Vnkynd þow I þe fonde.
As a sparke of fyre in þe se
My mercy is synne-quenchand.
Þou hast cause to love me
Abovyn al thynge in land,
And kepe my comaundement.
If þou me loue and drede
Heuene schal be þi mede;
My face þe schal fede:
Þis is myn jugement.

Ego occidam et viuificabo, percuciam et sanabo, et nemo est qui de manu mea possit eruere.

110

Kyng, kayser, knyt, and kampyoun,
Pope, patriark, prest, and prelat in pes,
Duke dowtyest in dede, be dale and be doun,
Lytyl and mekyl, þe more and þe les,
All þe statys of þe werld is at myn renoun;
To me schal þei ȝeue acompt at my dygne des.
Whanne Myhel hys horn blowyth at my dred dom
Þe count of here conscience schal putten hem in pres
And ȝeld a reknynge
Of here space whou þey han spent,
And of here trew talent,
At my gret jugement
An answere schal me brynge.

Ecce, requiram gregem meum de manu pastoris.

And I schal inquire of my flok and of here pasture
Whou þey haue leuyd and led here peple sojet.
Þe goode on þe ryth syd schul stond ful sure;
Þe badde on þe lyfte syd þer schal I set.
Þe seuene dedys of mercy whoso hadde vre
To fylle, þe hungry for to geue mete,
Or drynke to þrysty, þe nakyd, vesture,
Þe pore or þe pylgrym hom for to fette,
Þi neybour þat hath nede;
Whoso doth mercy to hys myth
To þe seke, or in presun pyth,
He doth to me; I schal hym qvyth;
Heuene blys schal be hys mede.

Et qui bona egerunt ibunt in vitam eternam; qui vero mala, in ignem eternum.

And þei þat wel do in þis werld, here welthe schal awake;
In heuene þei schal be heynyd in bounte and blys;
And þei þat evyl do, þei schul to helle lake
In byttyr balys to be brent: my jugement it is.
My vertus in heuene þanne schal þei qwake.
Þer is no wyth in þis werld þat may skape þis.
All men example here-at may take
To mayntein þe goode and mendyn here mys.

111

Þus endyth oure gamys.
To saue ȝou fro synnynge
Evyr at þe begynnynge
Thynke on ȝoure last endynge!
Te Deum laudamus!

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