 | Killing of the Children |  |
98
HERODES.
Aboue alle kynges vnder the clowdys cristalle,
Royally I reigne in welthe without woo!
Of plesaunt prosperyte I lakke non at alle!
Fortune, I fynde that she is not my foo!
I am Kyng Herowdes! I wille it be knowen soo!
Most strong and myghty in feld for to fyght,
And to venquysshe my enemyes þat ageynst me do!
I am most bedred, with my bronde bright!
Royally I reigne in welthe without woo!
Of plesaunt prosperyte I lakke non at alle!
Fortune, I fynde that she is not my foo!
I am Kyng Herowdes! I wille it be knowen soo!
Most strong and myghty in feld for to fyght,
And to venquysshe my enemyes þat ageynst me do!
I am most bedred, with my bronde bright!
My grett goddes I gloryfye with gladnesse,
And to honoure them I knele vpon my knee,
For thei haue sett me in solas from alle sadnesse,
That no conqueroure nor knyght is comparid to me!
Alle tho that rebelle ageyns me, ther bane I wille be,
Or grudge ageyns my goddes on hylle or hethe!
Alle suche rebellers I shalle make for to flee,
And with hard punysshementes putt them to dethe!
And to honoure them I knele vpon my knee,
For thei haue sett me in solas from alle sadnesse,
That no conqueroure nor knyght is comparid to me!
Alle tho that rebelle ageyns me, ther bane I wille be,
Or grudge ageyns my goddes on hylle or hethe!
Alle suche rebellers I shalle make for to flee,
And with hard punysshementes putt them to dethe!
What erthely wretches, with pompe and pride,
Do ageyns my lawes, or withstonde myn entent,
Thei shalle suffre woo and peyne thurgh bak and syde!
With a very myschaunce ther flesshe shalbe alle torent,
And alle my foes shalle haue suche commaundement,
That they shalbe glad to do my byddyng ay!
Or elles thei shalbe in woo and myscheff permanent,
That thei shalle fere me nyght and day!
Do ageyns my lawes, or withstonde myn entent,
Thei shalle suffre woo and peyne thurgh bak and syde!
With a very myschaunce ther flesshe shalbe alle torent,
And alle my foes shalle haue suche commaundement,
That they shalbe glad to do my byddyng ay!
Or elles thei shalbe in woo and myscheff permanent,
That thei shalle fere me nyght and day!
My messangere, at my commaundement come heder to me,
And take hed what I shalle to the say!
I charge the loke abought thurgh alle my cuntre,
To aspye if ony rebelles do ageynst oure lay,
And if ony suche come in thy way,
Brynge hem into oure high presens,
And we shalle se them correctid or thei go hens!
And take hed what I shalle to the say!
I charge the loke abought thurgh alle my cuntre,
To aspye if ony rebelles do ageynst oure lay,
And if ony suche come in thy way,
Brynge hem into oure high presens,
And we shalle se them correctid or thei go hens!
99
My lord, your commaundement I haue fulfilled,
Evyn to the vttermest of my pore powere,
And I wold shew you more, so ye wold be contentid,
But I dare not, lest ye wold take it in angere!
For if it liked you not, I am sure my deth were nere,
And therfor, my lord, I wole hold my peas!
HEROD.
I warne the, thu traytour, that thu not seas
To shewe euery thyng thu knowist ageyns oure reuerence!
MESSANGER.
My lord, if ye haue it in youre remembraunce,
Ther were thre straungere kynges but late in your presence,
That went to Bedlem to offre with due obseruaunce,
And promysed to come ageyn by you, without variaunce;
But by thes bonys ten, thei be to you vntrue,
For homward another wey thei doo sue!
HEROD.
Now, be my grett goddes that be so fulle of myght,
I wille be avengid vpon Israelle if thi tale be true!
MESSANGER.
That it is, my lord, my trouth I you plight,
For ye founde me neuer false syn ye me knewe!
HEROD.
I do perceyue, though I be here in my cheff cite,
Callid Jerusalem, my riche royalle town,
I am falsly disceyvid by straunge kynges three!
Therfor, my knyghtes, I warne you, without delacion,
That ye make serche thurghout alle my region—
Withoute ony tarieng, my wille may be seen—
And sle alle tho children, without excepcion,
Of to yeeres of age þat within Israelle bene!
Callid Jerusalem, my riche royalle town,
I am falsly disceyvid by straunge kynges three!
Therfor, my knyghtes, I warne you, without delacion,
That ye make serche thurghout alle my region—
Withoute ony tarieng, my wille may be seen—
And sle alle tho children, without excepcion,
Of to yeeres of age þat within Israelle bene!
For within myself thus I haue concluded,
For to avoide awey alle interrupcion,
Sythen theȝ thre kynges haue me thus falsly deluded,
As in maner by froward collusion,
And ageyn resortid hom into ther region—
But yitt, mavgre ther hertes, I shalle avengid be!
Bothe in Bedlem and my provynces euerychone,
Sle alle the children, to kepe my liberte!
For to avoide awey alle interrupcion,
Sythen theȝ thre kynges haue me thus falsly deluded,
As in maner by froward collusion,
100
But yitt, mavgre ther hertes, I shalle avengid be!
Bothe in Bedlem and my provynces euerychone,
Sle alle the children, to kepe my liberte!
PRIMUS MILES.
My lord, ye may be sure that I shalle not spare,
For to fulfille your noble commaundement,
With sharpe sword to perse them alle bare,
In alle cuntrees that be to you adiacent!
SECUNDUS MILES.
And for your sake, to obserue your commaundement!
TERCIUS MILES.
Not on of them alle oure handes shalle astert!
QUARTUS MILES.
For we wole cruelly execute youre judgement,
With swerde and spere to perse them thurgh the hert!
HEROD.
I thanke you, my knyghtes, but loke ye make no tarieng!
Do arme yourself in stele shynyng bright,
And conceyve in your myndes that I am your kyng,
Gevyng you charge þat with alle your myght,
In conseruacion of my tytelle of right,
That ye go and loke for myn aduauntage,
And sle alle the children þat come in your sight,
Wiche ben within too yeere of age!
Do arme yourself in stele shynyng bright,
And conceyve in your myndes that I am your kyng,
Gevyng you charge þat with alle your myght,
In conseruacion of my tytelle of right,
That ye go and loke for myn aduauntage,
And sle alle the children þat come in your sight,
Wiche ben within too yeere of age!
Now beware that my byddyng ye truly obey,
For non but I shalle reigne with equyte!
Make alle the children on your swordes to dey!
I charge you, spare not oon for mercy nor pyte!
Am not I lord and kyng of the cuntre?
The crowne of alle Jerusalem longith to me of right!
Whosoeuer sey nay, of high or lowe degre,
I charge you sle alle suche þat come in your sight!
For non but I shalle reigne with equyte!
Make alle the children on your swordes to dey!
I charge you, spare not oon for mercy nor pyte!
Am not I lord and kyng of the cuntre?
The crowne of alle Jerusalem longith to me of right!
Whosoeuer sey nay, of high or lowe degre,
I charge you sle alle suche þat come in your sight!
PRIMUS MILES.
My lord, be ye sure accordyng to your wille,
Like as ye charge vs be streigt commaundement,
Alle the children of Israelle doughtles we shalle kylle,
Within to yeere of age—this is oure entent!
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My lord, of alle Jurerye we hold you for chef regent,
By titelle of enheritaunce, as your auncetours beforn;
He that seith the contrary, be Mahound, shalbe shent,
And curse the tyme that euer [he] was borne!
HEROD.
I thanke you, my knyghtes, with hoolle affeccion,
And whan ye come ageyn I shalle you avaunce.
Therfor, quyte you wele in feld and town,
And of alle tho fondlynges make a delyueraunce!
Here the knyghtes shalle departe from Herowdes to Israelle, and Watkyn shalle abyde, seyng thus to Herodes:
WATKYN.
Now, my lord, I beseche you to here my dalyaunce!
I wold aske you a bone, if I durst aright,
But I were loth ye shuld take ony displesaunce—
Now, for Mahoundes sake, make me a knyght!
I wold aske you a bone, if I durst aright,
But I were loth ye shuld take ony displesaunce—
Now, for Mahoundes sake, make me a knyght!
For oon thyng I promyse you: I wille manly fight,
And for to avenge your quarelle I dare vndertake;
Though I sey it myself, I am a man of myght,
And dare live and deye in this quarelle for your sake!
For whan I com amonge them, for fere thei shalle quake!
And though thei sharme and crye, I care not a myght,
But with my sharpe sworde ther ribbes I shalle shake,
Evyn thurgh the guttes, for anger and despight!
And for to avenge your quarelle I dare vndertake;
Though I sey it myself, I am a man of myght,
And dare live and deye in this quarelle for your sake!
For whan I com amonge them, for fere thei shalle quake!
And though thei sharme and crye, I care not a myght,
But with my sharpe sworde ther ribbes I shalle shake,
Evyn thurgh the guttes, for anger and despight!
HEROWDES.
Be thi trouthe, Watkyn, woldest thu be made a knyght?
Thu hast be my seruaunt and messangere many a day,
But thu were neuer provid in bataile nor in fight,
And therfor to avaunce the so sodeynly I ne may.
But oon thyng to the I shalle say,
Because I fynde the true in thyn entent:
Forth with my knyghtes thu shalt take the way,
And quyte the wele, and thu shalt it not repent!
WATKYN.
Now, a largeys, my lord! I am right wele apaid!
If I do not wele, ley my hed vpon a stokke!
I shalle go shew your knyghtes how ye haue seid,
And arme myself manly, and go forth on the flokke
102
Though the moder be angry, the child shalbe slayn!
But yitt I drede no thyng more thanne a woman with a rokke!
For if I se ony suche, be my feith, I come ageyn!
HEROWDES.
What! Shalle a woman with a rokke drive the away?
Fye on the, traitour! Now I tremble for tene!
I have trosted the long and many a day—
A bold man, and an hardy, I went thu haddist ben!
WATKYN MESSANGER.
So am I, my lord, and that shalbe seen,
That I am a bold man, and best dare abyde!
And ther come an hundred women, I wole not fleen,
But fro morowe tylle nyght, with them I dare chide!
That I am a bold man, and best dare abyde!
And ther come an hundred women, I wole not fleen,
But fro morowe tylle nyght, with them I dare chide!
And therfor, my lord, ye may trust vnto me,
For alle the children of Israelle your knyghtes and I shalle kylle!
I wylle not spare on, but dede thei shalbe—
If the fader and moder wille lete me haue my wille!
For alle the children of Israelle your knyghtes and I shalle kylle!
I wylle not spare on, but dede thei shalbe—
If the fader and moder wille lete me haue my wille!
HEROWDES.
Thu lurdeyn! Take hede what I sey the tylle,
And high the to my knyghtes as fast as thu can!
Say, I warne them in ony wyse þer blood þat thei spille,
Abought in euery cuntre, and lette for no man!
WATKYN.
Nay, nay, my lord! We wylle let for no man,
Though ther come a thousand on a rought,
For your knyghtes and I wille kylle them alle, if we can!
But for the wyves, that is alle my dought,
And if I se ony walkyng abought,
I wille take good hede tylle she be goon,
And as sone as I aspye that she is oute,
By my feith, into the hous I wille go anon!
Though ther come a thousand on a rought,
For your knyghtes and I wille kylle them alle, if we can!
But for the wyves, that is alle my dought,
And if I se ony walkyng abought,
I wille take good hede tylle she be goon,
And as sone as I aspye that she is oute,
By my feith, into the hous I wille go anon!
And this I promyse you, that I shalle neuer slepe,
But euermore wayte to fynde the children alone,
And if the moder come in, vnder the benche I wille crepe,
And lye stille ther tylle she be goon!
Than manly I shalle come out and hir children sloon!
And whan I haue don, I shalle renne fast away!
If she founde hir child dede, and toke me ther alone,
Be my feith, I am sure we shuld make a fray!
But euermore wayte to fynde the children alone,
And if the moder come in, vnder the benche I wille crepe,
And lye stille ther tylle she be goon!
Than manly I shalle come out and hir children sloon!
And whan I haue don, I shalle renne fast away!
If she founde hir child dede, and toke me ther alone,
Be my feith, I am sure we shuld make a fray!
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Nay, harlott! Abyde stylle with my knyghtes, I warne the,
Tylle the children be slayn, alle the hoolle rought!
And whan thu comyst home ageyn, I shalle avaunce the,
If thu quyte the like a man whille thu art ought!
And if thu pley the coward, I put the owt of dought,
Of me thu shalt neyther haue fee nor aduauntage!
Therfor, I charge you, the contre be weelle sought,
And whan thu comyst home, shalt haue thi wage!
WATKYN.
Yis, syre, be my trouthe, ye shalle wele knowe
Whille I am oute, how I shalle aquyte me,
For I purpos to spare neither high nor lowe—
If ther be no man wole smyte me!
The most I fere, the wyues wille bete me!
Yitt shalle I take good hert to me, and loke wele abought,
And loke that your knyghtes be not ferre fro me,
For if I be alone, I may sone get a clought!
HEROD.
I say, hye the hens! That thu were goon!
And vnto my knyghtes, loke ye, take the way,
And sey, I charge them that my commaundement be don
In alle hast possible, without more delay!
And if ther be ony that wille sey you nay,
Redde hym of his lyff out of hand, anon!
And if thu quyte the weelle vnto my pay,
I shalle make þe a knyght aventururos whan þu comyst home!
Et exeat.
WATKYN.
Syr knyghtes, I must go forth with you!
Thus my lord commaunded me for to don,
And if I quyte me weelle whille I am amonge you,
I shalbe made a knyght aventures whan I come home!
For oon thyng I promyse you, I wille fight anon—
If my hert faile not whan I shal begynne!
The most I fere is to come amonge women,
For thei fight like deuelles with ther rokkes whan þei spynne!
104
Watkyn, I loue the, for thu art euer a man!
If thu quyte the weelle in this grett viage,
I shalle speke to my lord for the that I can,
That thu shalt no more be neither grome nor page!
SECUNDUS MILES.
I wylle speke for the, that thu shalt haue better wage,
If thu quyte the manly amonge the wyves,
For thei be as fers as a lyon in a cage,
Whan thei are broken ought, to reve men of þer lives!
Here the knyghtes and Watkyn walke abought the place tylle Mary and Joseph be conveid into Egipt.
Dixit angelus:
ANGELUS.
O Joseph, ryse vp, and loke thu tary nought!
Take Mary with the, and into Egipt flee!
For Jhesu, thi sone, pursuyd is and sought,
By Kyng Herowdes, the wiche of gret inyquyte
Commaundid hath thurgh Bedlem cite,
In his cruelle and furyous rage,
To sle alle the children that be in that cuntre
That may be founde within to yeere of age!
Take Mary with the, and into Egipt flee!
For Jhesu, thi sone, pursuyd is and sought,
By Kyng Herowdes, the wiche of gret inyquyte
Commaundid hath thurgh Bedlem cite,
In his cruelle and furyous rage,
To sle alle the children that be in that cuntre
That may be founde within to yeere of age!
Ther shalle he shewe in that region
Diuerse myracles of his high regalye—
In alle ther temples the mawmentes shalle falle down,
To shew a tokyn towardes the partie!
This child hath lordship, as prophetes do specifie,
And at his comyng, thurgh his myghty hond,
In despight of alle idolatrie,
Euery oon shalle falle, whan he comyth into the lond!
Diuerse myracles of his high regalye—
In alle ther temples the mawmentes shalle falle down,
To shew a tokyn towardes the partie!
This child hath lordship, as prophetes do specifie,
And at his comyng, thurgh his myghty hond,
In despight of alle idolatrie,
Euery oon shalle falle, whan he comyth into the lond!
JOSEPH.
O good Lord, of thi gracious ordenaunce,
Like as thu list for oure jorney provide
In this viage with humble attendaunce,
As God disposeth, and list to be oure gyde.
Therfor, vpon them bothe mekely I shalle abide,
Praying to that Lord to thynk vpon vs three,
Vs to preserue, wheder we go or ryde
Towardes Egipte, from alle aduercite.
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Now, husbond, in alle hast I pray you, go we hens
For drede of Herowdes, that cruelle knyght.
Gentylle spouse, now do youre diligens,
And bryng your asse, I pray you, anon right,
And from hens let vs passe with alle oure myght,
Thankyng that Lord so for vs doth provide
That we may go from Herowdes, þat cursid wight,
Wiche wille vs devoure if that we abide!
JOSEPH.
Mary, you to do plesaunce without ony lett,
I shalle brynge forth your asse without more delay.
Ful sone, Mary, theron ye shalbe sett,
And this litelle child that in your wombe lay;
Take hym in your armys, Mary, I you pray,
And of your swete mylke lete hym sowke inowe,
Mawgere Herowdes and his grett fray,
And as your spouse, Mary, I shalle go with you.
This ferdelle of gere I ley vp my bakke—
Now I am redy to go from this cuntre.
Alle my smale instrumentes is putt in my pakke;
Now go we hens, Mary, it wille no better be!
Et exeant.
For drede of Herowdes apaas I wylle high me!
Lo, now is oure geere trussid, both more and lesse.
Mary, for to plese you, with alle humylite,
I shalle go before, and lede forth youre asse.
Here Mary and Joseph shalle go out of Þe place, and Þe goddes shalle falle, and than shalle come in the women of Israel, with yong children in ther armys, and than the knyghtes shalle go to them, sayng as foluyth:
PRIMUS MILES.
Herke ye, wyffys! We be come your housholdes to visite,
Though ye be neuer so wroth nor wood,
With sharpe swerdes that redely wille byte,
Alle your children within to yeere age in oure cruelle mood,
Thurgheout alle Bethleem to kylle and shed þer yong blood,
106
Who that seith nay, we shalle make a flood
To renne in the stretis, by ther blood shedyng!
SECUNDUS MILES.
Therfor, vnto vs ye make a delyueraunce
Of youre yong children, and that anone!
Or elles, be Mahounde, we shalle geve you a myschaunce!
Oure sharpe swerdes thurgh your bodies shalle goon!
WATKYN.
Therfor beware, for we wille not leve oon
In alle this cuntre that shalle vs escape!
I shalle rather slee them euerychoon,
And make them to lye and mowe like an ape!
PRIMA MULIER.
Fye on you traitours of cruelle tormentrye,
Wiche with your swerdes of mortalle violens
SECUNDA MULIER.
Oure yong children, that can no socoure but crie,
Wylle slee and devoure in ther innocens!
TERCIA MULIER.
Ye false traitours! Vnto God ye do grett offens,
To sle and mordere yong children þat in þer cradelle slumber!
QUARTA MULIER.
But we women shalle make ageyns you resistens,
After oure powere, youre malice to encomber!
WATKYN.
Peas, you folysshe quenys! Wha shuld you defende
Ageyns vs armyd men in this apparaile?
We be bold men, and the kyng vs ded sende
Hedyr into this cuntre to hold with you bataile!
PRIMA MULIER.
Fye vpon the, coward! Of the I wille not faile
To dubbe the knyght with my rokke rounde!
Women be ferse when thei list to assaile
Suche prowde boyes, to caste to the grounde!
WATKYN.
Avaunt ye, skowtys! I defye you euerychone!
For I wole bete you alle, myself alone!
Hic occident pueros.
PRIMA MULIER.
Alas, alasse, good gossyppes! This is a sorowfulle peyn,
To se oure dere children that be so yong
With these caytyves thus sodeynly to be slayn!
A vengeaunce I aske on them alle for this grett wrong!
107
And a very myscheff mut come them amonge,
Whersoeuer thei be come or goon,
For thei haue kylled my yong sone John!
TERCIA MULIER.
Gossippis, a shamefulle deth I aske vpon Herowde oure kyng,
That thus rygorously oure children hath slayn!
QUARTA MULIER.
I pray God bryng hym to an ille endyng,
And in helle pytte to dwelle euer in peyn!
WATKYN.
What, ye harlottes! I haue aspied certeyn
That ye be traytours to my lord the kyng,
And therfor I am sure ye shalle haue an ille endyng!
PRIMA MULIER.
If ye abide, Watkyn, you and I shalle game
With my distaff that is so rounde!
SECUNDA MULIER.
And if I seas, thanne haue I shame,
Tylle thu be fellid down to the grounde!
TERCIA MULIER.
And I may gete the within my bounde,
With this staff I shalle make the lame!
WATKYN.
Yee, I come no more ther, be Seynt Mahounde!
For if I do, me thynketh I shalle be made tame!
PRIMA MULIER.
Abyde, Watkyn! I shalle make the a knyght!
WATKYN.
Thu make me a knyght? That were on the newe!
But for shame—my trouthe I you plight—
I shuld bete you bak and side tylle it were blewe!
But be my god Mahounde that is so true,
My hert begynne to fayle and waxeth feynt,
Or elles, be Mahoundes blood, ye shuld it rue!
But ye shalle lose your goodes as traitours atteynt!
PRIMA MULIER.
What, thu javelle! Canst not haue do?
Thu and thi cumpany shalle not depart
Tylle of oure distavys ye haue take part!
Therfor, ley on, gossippes, with a mery hart,
And lett them not from vs goo!
108
PRIMUS MILES.
Honorable prynce of grett apparayle,
Thurgh Jerusalem and Jude your wylle we haue wrought;
Fulle suerly harneysed in armour of plate and maile,
The children of Israelle vnto deth we haue brought!
SECUNDUS MILES.
Syr, to werke your commaundement we lettid nought,
In the stretes of the children to make a flood!
We sparid neithere for care nor thought
Thurgh Bethlem to shede alle the yong blood!
WATKYN.
In feyth, my lord, alle the children be dede,
And alle the men out of the cuntre be goon!
Ther be but women, and thei crie in euery stede:
‘A vengeaunce take Kyng Herode, for he hath our children sloon!’
And bidde ‘A myscheff take hym!’ both evyn and morn;
For kyllyng of ther children on you thei crie oute,
And thus goth your name alle the cuntre abought!
HERODES.
Oute! I am madde! My wyttes be ner goon!
I am wo for the wrokyng of this werke wylde!
For as wele I haue slayn my frendes as my foon!
Wherfor, I fere, deth hath me begyled!
Notwithstondyng syn thei be alle defyled,
And on þe yong blood of Bethlem wrought wo and wrake,
Yitt I am in no certeyn of that yong child!
Now for woo myn herte gynneth to quake!
I am wo for the wrokyng of this werke wylde!
For as wele I haue slayn my frendes as my foon!
Wherfor, I fere, deth hath me begyled!
Notwithstondyng syn thei be alle defyled,
And on þe yong blood of Bethlem wrought wo and wrake,
Yitt I am in no certeyn of that yong child!
Now for woo myn herte gynneth to quake!
Alas! I am so sorowfulle and sett in sadnes!
I chille and chevere for this orrible chaunce!
I commaunde you alle, as ye wole stond in my grace,
After this yong kyng to make good enqueraunce!
And he þat bryngeth me tydynges, I shalle hym auaunce.
Now, vnto my chambere I purpose me this tyde,
And I charge you to my preceptes geve attendaunce,
In ony place where ye goo or ryde!
I chille and chevere for this orrible chaunce!
I commaunde you alle, as ye wole stond in my grace,
After this yong kyng to make good enqueraunce!
And he þat bryngeth me tydynges, I shalle hym auaunce.
Now, vnto my chambere I purpose me this tyde,
And I charge you to my preceptes geve attendaunce,
In ony place where ye goo or ryde!
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What! Out, out! Allas! I wene I shalle dey þis day!
My hert tremelith and quakith for feere!
My robys I rende ato, for I am in a fray,
That my hert wille brest asundere evyn heere!
My lord Mahound, I pray the with hert enteere,
Take my soule into thy holy hande,
For I fele be my hert I shalle dey evyn heere,
For my legges faltere, I may no lengere stande!
My hert tremelith and quakith for feere!
My robys I rende ato, for I am in a fray,
That my hert wille brest asundere evyn heere!
My lord Mahound, I pray the with hert enteere,
Take my soule into thy holy hande,
For I fele be my hert I shalle dey evyn heere,
For my legges faltere, I may no lengere stande!
Here dieth Herowde, and Symeon shalle sey as foluyth:
Vacat ab hinc
[Jerusalem—the Temple]
SYMEON.
Now, God, that art both lok and keye
Of alle goodnesse and goostly gouernaunce,
So yeve vs grace thi lawys to obeye,
That we vnto the do no displesaunce;
Lett thi grace of mercifulle haboundaunce
Vpon me shyne, that callid am Symeon,
So that I may without ony variaunce
Teche thi people thi lawis euerychon.
Of alle goodnesse and goostly gouernaunce,
So yeve vs grace thi lawys to obeye,
That we vnto the do no displesaunce;
Lett thi grace of mercifulle haboundaunce
Vpon me shyne, that callid am Symeon,
So that I may without ony variaunce
Teche thi people thi lawis euerychon.
From the sterrid hevyn, Lord, thu list come down
Into the closett of a pure virgyn,
Oure kynde to take for mannys saluacion!
Thi grett mercy thu lowe lyst enclyne,
Lyke as prophetys by grace that is divyne
Haue prophecied of the sythe longe afforn.
It is fulfilled, I knowe be ther doctryne,
And of a chast maide I wete wele thu art born.
Into the closett of a pure virgyn,
Oure kynde to take for mannys saluacion!
Thi grett mercy thu lowe lyst enclyne,
Lyke as prophetys by grace that is divyne
Haue prophecied of the sythe longe afforn.
It is fulfilled, I knowe be ther doctryne,
And of a chast maide I wete wele thu art born.
Now, good Lord, hertly I the pray,
Here my requeste, grounded vpon right!
Most blissed Lord, lett me neuer dey
Tylle that I of the may haue a sight!
Thu art so gloryous, so blissed, and so bright,
That thi presence to me shuld be gret solas!
I shalle not reste, but pray bothe day and nyght,
Tylle I may behold, o Lord, thi swete face!
Here my requeste, grounded vpon right!
Most blissed Lord, lett me neuer dey
Tylle that I of the may haue a sight!
Thu art so gloryous, so blissed, and so bright,
That thi presence to me shuld be gret solas!
I shalle not reste, but pray bothe day and nyght,
Tylle I may behold, o Lord, thi swete face!
110
MARIA.
Joseph, my spouse, tyme it is we goo
Vnto the temple to make an offrynge
Of oure swete son—the lawe commaundith so—
And too yonge dowys with vs for to bryng
Into a prestes handes, withoute tarieng;
I shalle presente for an obseruance
Oure babe so blissed wiche is but yonge.
With me to go, I pray you, make purviaunce.
JOSEPH.
Most blissed spouse, me list not to feyne—
Fayn wold I plese you with hoolle affeccion.
Behold now, wyff, her are dowys tweyne,
Of wiche ye shulle make an oblacion
With oure child, of fulle grett devocion.
Goth forth aforn, hertly I you pray,
And I shalle folue, voide of presumpcion,
With true entent, as an old man may.
Here Maria and Joseph go toward the temple with Jhesu and too dowes, and Oure Lady seith vnto Symeon:
MARIA.
Heylle, holy Symeon, fulle of grett vertu!
To make an offryng I gan myself purveye
Of my souereigne sone, that callid is Jhesu,
With too yonge dowes, the lawe to obeye.
Toward this temple grace list me conveye,
Of Goddes sone to make a presentacion.
Wherfore, Symeon, hertly I you pray,
Into your handes take myn oblacion!
Her shalle Symeon receyve of Maria Jhesu and too dowis, and holde Jhesu in his armys, expownyng ‘Nunc dimittis’, et cetera, seyng thus:
SYMEON.
Wolcome, Lord, excellent of powere!
And wolcome, Maria, with youre sone souereigne!
Your oblacion, of hoolle herte and enteere,
I receyue with these dowys tweyn.
Wolcome, babe! For joye what may I seyn?
Atwen myn armys now shalle I the enbrace!
My prayer, Lord, was not made in veyn,
For now I se thy celestialle face!
Here declare ‘Nunc dimittis’.
And wolcome, Maria, with youre sone souereigne!
111
I receyue with these dowys tweyn.
Wolcome, babe! For joye what may I seyn?
Atwen myn armys now shalle I the enbrace!
My prayer, Lord, was not made in veyn,
For now I se thy celestialle face!
O blissed Lord, after thi langage,
In parfight peas, now lett thy seruaunt reste,
Forwhy myn eyen haue seyn thi visage,
And eke thyn helthe, thurgh my meke request.
Of the derk dungeon let the gates brest
Before the face of thyn people alle!
Thu hast brought triacle and bawme of the best,
With souereigne sugere geyn alle bitter galle!
In parfight peas, now lett thy seruaunt reste,
Forwhy myn eyen haue seyn thi visage,
And eke thyn helthe, thurgh my meke request.
Of the derk dungeon let the gates brest
Before the face of thyn people alle!
Thu hast brought triacle and bawme of the best,
With souereigne sugere geyn alle bitter galle!
I mene thiself, Lord, gracious and benigne,
That woldest come down from thyn high glorye,
Poyson to repelle. Thi mercy doth now shyne
To chaunge thynges that are transitory.
Thu art the light and the hevynly skye!
To the relevyng of folk most cruelle,
Thu hast brought gladnesse to oure oratorye,
And enlumyned thy people of Israelle.
That woldest come down from thyn high glorye,
Poyson to repelle. Thi mercy doth now shyne
To chaunge thynges that are transitory.
Thu art the light and the hevynly skye!
To the relevyng of folk most cruelle,
Thu hast brought gladnesse to oure oratorye,
And enlumyned thy people of Israelle.
Here shalle Anna Prophetissa sey thus to þe virgynes:
ANNA PROPHETISSA.
Ye pure virgynes, in that ye may or can,
With tapers of wex, loke ye come forth here,
And worship this child, very God and man,
Offrid in this temple be his moder dere.
Her virgynes, as many as a man wylle, shalle holde tapers in ther handes, and the first seyth:
PRIMA VIRGO.
As ye comaunde we shal do oure devere,
Þat Lord to plese, echon for oure partye.
He makyth vn[to] vs so comfortable chere,
Þat we must nedes þis babe magnifie!
112
Now, Mary, I shalle telle you how I am purposed.
To worshippe þis Lord I wil go procession,
For I se Anna with virgynes disposed,
Mekly as nowe to youre sonys laudacion.
MARIA.
Blissed Symeon, with hertly affeccion,
As ye han seyd, I concent therto.
JOSEPH.
In worshippe of oure child with gret devossion,
Abought þe tempille in ordire let vs go.
SYMEON.
Ye virgynes alle, with feythfulle intent
Dispose youresilf a song for to synge,
To worshippe this childe þat is here present,
Whiche to mankende gladnes list bryng.
In tokyn, oure hertes withe joye doth spryng!
Betwyn myn armys þis babe shalbe born.
Now, ye virgynis, to this Lordes preysyng
Syngyth ‘Nunc dimittis’ of whiche I spak afforn.
Here shal Symeon bere Jhesu in his armys, goyng a procession rounde aboute þe tempille, and al þis wyle þe virgynis synge ‘Nunc dimittis’ and whan þat is don, Symeon seyth:
SYMEON.
O Jhesu, chef cause of oure welfare,
In yone tapire ther be thyng thre:
Wax, week, and light, whiche I shalle declare
To þe apporpride by moralite—
Lord, wax betoknyth thyn humanyte,
And week betoknyth thy soule most swete;
Yone lyght I lykene to þe Godhed of the,
Brightere than Phebus, for al his fervent hete.
In yone tapire ther be thyng thre:
Wax, week, and light, whiche I shalle declare
To þe apporpride by moralite—
Lord, wax betoknyth thyn humanyte,
And week betoknyth thy soule most swete;
Yone lyght I lykene to þe Godhed of the,
Brightere than Phebus, for al his fervent hete.
Pes and mercy han set in the here swete,
To slake þe sharpnes, o Lord, of rigoure;
Very God and man gun togedire mete
In the tabirnacle of thy modrys bowere.
Now shalt þou exile wo and alle langoure,
And of mankende t'appese infernalle stryf;
Record of prophetes, thou shalt be redemptoure,
And singulere repast of euerlastyng lyf.
To slake þe sharpnes, o Lord, of rigoure;
Very God and man gun togedire mete
In the tabirnacle of thy modrys bowere.
Now shalt þou exile wo and alle langoure,
And of mankende t'appese infernalle stryf;
Record of prophetes, thou shalt be redemptoure,
And singulere repast of euerlastyng lyf.
113
My spretes joyen, þou art so amyable,
I am nat wery to loke on þi face.
Oure trewe entent, let it be acceptable
To þe honor of the, shewyd in this place.
For thy seruauntes, a dwellyng þou shalt purchase,
Brighter than beralle outhere clere cristalle.
Þe to worshippe as chef welle of grace,
On both my knees now doun knele I shalle.
I am nat wery to loke on þi face.
Oure trewe entent, let it be acceptable
To þe honor of the, shewyd in this place.
For thy seruauntes, a dwellyng þou shalt purchase,
Brighter than beralle outhere clere cristalle.
Þe to worshippe as chef welle of grace,
On both my knees now doun knele I shalle.
MARIA.
Now Semyon, take me my childe þat is so bright,
Chef lodesterre of my felicyte,
And alle þat longyth to þe lawe of right
I shalle obeye, as it lyth in me.
SYMEON.
Þis Lord, I take you knelyng on my kne,
Whiche shalle to blisse folk ageyn restore,
And eke be called tonne of tranquylyte,
To yeve hem drynke þat han thrustyd sore.
Here she receyveth hire sone, þus seyeng:
MARIA.
Now is myn offryng to an ende conveyed,
Wherfore, Symeon, hens I wole wende.
SYMEON.
The lawes, Mary, ful welle ye han obbeyed
In this tempille, with hert and mende.
Nowe ferwelle, Lord, comfort to alle mankende!
Farwelle, Maria and Josephe on you waytyng.
JOSEPHE.
Selestialle socoure oure sone mot you sende,
And for his high mercy, yeve you his blissyng.
Here Maria and Josephe goyng from þe tempille seyng:
MARIA.
Husbond, I thanke you of youre gentilnes
Þat ye han shewed onto me this day;
With oure child most gracious of godenes,
Let vs go hens, hertly I you pray!
JOSEPHE.
Go forthe afforn, my ovne wyf, I sey,
And I shalle come aftire, stil vpon þis ground.
Ye shal me fynde plesaunt at euery assaye;
To cherysshe you, wyf, gretly am I bounde.
114
Nowe may I be glad in myn inward mende,
For I haue seyn Jhesu with my bodely eye,
Wiche on a cros shalle bey al menkende,
Slayn by Jwes at þe Mount of Calvery;
And throwe devyn grace here I wille provysye
Of blissed Mary howe she shalle suffre peyn,
Whan hire swete sone shalle on a rood deye—
A sharpe sward of sorowe shalle cleve hire hert atweyn.
For I haue seyn Jhesu with my bodely eye,
Wiche on a cros shalle bey al menkende,
Slayn by Jwes at þe Mount of Calvery;
And throwe devyn grace here I wille provysye
Of blissed Mary howe she shalle suffre peyn,
Whan hire swete sone shalle on a rood deye—
A sharpe sward of sorowe shalle cleve hire hert atweyn.
Anna Prophetissa, hertly I prey you nowe,
Doth youre devire and youre diligent laboure,
And take these virgynis euerychon with you,
And teche hem to plese God, of most honoure.
Doth youre devire and youre diligent laboure,
And take these virgynis euerychon with you,
And teche hem to plese God, of most honoure.
ANNA PROPHETISSA.
Lyke as ye say, I wille do this houre.
Ye chast virgynis, with alle humylite,
Worshippe we Jhesu, þat shalbe oure sauyoure—
Alle at ones, come on, and folowe me.
Ye chast virgynis, with alle humylite,
Worshippe we Jhesu, þat shalbe oure sauyoure—
Alle at ones, come on, and folowe me.
And shewe ye summe plesure as ye can,
In the worshippe of Jhesu, Oure Lady, and Seynt Anne!
In the worshippe of Jhesu, Oure Lady, and Seynt Anne!
Anna Prophetissa et [virgynes] tripident.
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