 | Christ's Resurrection |  |
Pascha
Mawdleyne begynnes, sayinge:
[MAWDLEYNE].
Secund Marye commys in and sais:
[SECUND MARYE].
MAWDLEYN.
Off your commynge, sister, I am glade.
Iwise, I knaw welle þat ȝe be sadd;
Ye haue cawse os welle os I!
SECUND MARYE.
MAWDLEYN.
So doolfulle a day was neuer befor this!
But go we to the monyment where his sepulcre is,
To anoynte his body there.
SECUND MARYE.
Sister, I com for that sam intent;
Ther is nothinge can me better content;
To go, I haue no fere.
MAWDLEYN.
Then, gude sister, lat vs goo devowtlee.
SECUNDE MARYE.
Abide! Yonder commes Marye Jacobee!
I trow with vs sho wille goo.
Thride Marye commys in.
[THRIDE MARYE].
O, gude sisters, how is it with ȝowe?
MAWDLEYN.
A, dere sister, neuer soo eville os nowe!
THRID MARYE.
MAWDLEYN.
Ye, bot of my master and Lorde I her not telle,
Therfore I can not cease.
We were goynge to [the] monyment
Wheros lyeth that swete innocent.
Loo, here, oyntmentes of swetnese!
THRID MARYE.
Gude sisters, on yow shalle I wayte.
SECUNDE MARYE.
Then let vs tak þe way furth strayte.
MAWDLEYN.
The angelle spekes:
[ANGELLE].
Whom seke ye, women sanctifiede?
Three Maryes togider sais:
[THREE MARYES].
Jhesus of Nazareth crucified,
The redemer of mankind.
ANGELLE.
MAWDLEN.
For myn harte is fulle of sorow and woo.
My Lorde, þat was the kinge of blisse,
Is takyn away; I wat not wher he is.
ANGELLE.
MAWDLEYN.
SECUND MARYE.
THRIDE MARYE.
Sister Mawdlyen, in your hart be stabille.
We shalle here tidinges right comfortabille,
And þat, I trust, shortlye,
For that is suth veritabille,
Saide so afore suthlye.
MAWDLEYN.
SECUND MARYE.
Sister Mawdleyn, it is bot in vayn
Thus remedilesse to mak compleyn.
Therfor it is the best,
Ych on of vs a diuerse way to take;
His apperinge joyfulle may vs make,
And set ouir hartes in reste.
THE THRIDE MARYE.
Ye, to sek and inquere, let vs faste hye,
Sister Mawdlen! This is next remedye,
And þerfore departe wee!
MAWDLEYN.
O Lorde and master, help vs in hye
To haue a sight of thee!
Tunc exeunt hee tres Marie. Petrus intrat, flens amare.
[PETER].
Et sic cadit in terram, flens amare. [Andreas et Iohannes intrant.] Andreas, frater Petri, dicit.
[ANDREAS].
A brothere Peter, what nedes alle þis?
I se welle, good cowncelle wille yow mysse.
Dry vp your teres and rise!
Comforth yourselfe, I require yow, and praye!
We shalle haue gud tidinges! This is þe thrid day!
Sorow not in this wise!
JOHANNES EUANGELISTA.
Stand vp, gud brothere, and mesur your hevynese!
This gret contrition of your hart, dowtlese,
To God is plesant sacrifice.
PETRUS.
ANDREAS.
JOHANNES EUANGELISTA.
PETER.
Praye fore me, brother, for Goddes sake!
JOHANNES EUANGELISTA.
Brothere, to yow no discomfurth take,
But truste euer faithfullye!
We shall haue comforth, ȝoure sorowe to slake,
And that, I trust, shortlye.
Tunc exit Iohannes et dicit Petrus:
[PETER].
[Exeunt Petrus et Andreas] Intrat Maria Magdalena.
[MAWDLEYN].
Jhesus intrat, in specie ortulani, dicens:
[JHESUS].
Mulier, ploras? Quem queris?
Woman, why wepis thou? Whom sekes thou thus?
Telle me whome thou wald haue.
MAWDLEN.
I sek my master and swete Lorde, Jhesus,
Which her was layd in grave.
JHESUS.
Woman, thou mournest to piteoslye,
And compleynist the most hevilye;
Thy mynd is not content.
Thyn hart is trowblit, welle I see,
Alle fulle doloruse os thinkes mee;
Thou has not thyn intente.
MAUDLEYN.
Myn intent, that knawes hee
On whom my hart is set, and ay shal bee.
Gardener, I yowe praye,
Schew vnto me, if ye can,
Yf that ye did see here ony man
Tak his body awaye.
Jhesus
dicit:
‘Maria!’
Mawdleyn
awnswers:
‘Raboni!’
JHESUS.
MAWDLEYN.
Secund Marye intrat cum tercia.
[SECUND MARYE].
Soror, nuncia nobis!
Gud Mawdleyn! Sister, how standes with yow?
MAWDLEYN.
THRID MARYE.
It apperis, suster, by your cowntenaunce,
That the gret sorow is owt of remembraunce,
And so, by your sawe, gret cause haue yee!
MAWDLEYN.
I haue gret cause, sisters, I knaw it welle!
For of my joye he is the springe and welle,
And of my lyfe sustenaunce.
SECUNDE MARYE.
Haue ye seyn our Lord, sister? Ar ye sure?
MAWDLEN.
Sister, I haue seyne my gretist tresure,
My hartly joye and plesaunce!
THRIDE MARY.
A, sister, gret comfert may your hart inflame!
MAWDLEN.
SECUND MARIE.
A, A, Mawdleyn, right happee ye were!
Ye spente not in vayn so many bitter tere!
Gret grace is lent yow too!
Tunc venit Jhesus et salutat mulieres istas tres. Tamen mulieres nil dicunt ei, sed procidunt ad pedes eius.
[JHESUS].
Auete! Hayle, blessit women leve!
My blessinge here I youe geve!
Let sorow no more youre harte meve,
But haue comfort allwaye!
I am resene fro deth, so may ye telle;
I haue deliuert my presoners frome helle,
And made tham sure for aye!
[Exit Jhesus.]
MAWDLEYN.
Now, gud sisters, be no more sadd!
Ye haue cause os welle os I to be gladd!
Oure Lorde, loo, of his gudnese,
Of his heghe and Godly excellence,
Haves shewede vs here his joyefulle presence,
With wordes of swetnese!
My wordes wer not fantasticalle, sisters, yee see!
I told youe no lesinge, sisters, report mee!
Ye haue seyn with your eye.
THRID MARY.
Oure spirites ben revivid, our hartes beyn light!
O, Mawdleyn, this was a gloriose sight,
Schewed to vs gracioslye!
SECUND MARYE.
Blessid be that Lorde! Blessit be that Kinge,
That haues comfurth vs thus with his vprisinge,
So sone and glorioslye!
MAWDLEN.
Susters, in joye of this joyfullnese,
A songe of comforte lete vs expresse,
With notes of armonye:
‘Victime paschali laudes immolant Christiani!’
[PETER].
How is it now, Marye, can ye telle
Any newes which may lik vs welle?
Blithe is youre countenaunce!
MAWDLEYN.
Peter, in youre mynde be fast and stabille!
I can shew youe tydinges most comfortabille,
Trust it of assurance!
PETERE.
Gude Marye, of hym I wold knawlege haue.
MAWDLEYN.
Peter, oure master is resyn from his grave!
He apperit vnto vs three
In fleshe and bone in a gloriose wise!
He hase restorid Adam and his into paradise,
Which were in helles captiuitee!
PETER.
God graunte youre wordes war not in vayn!
MAWDLEN.
Peter, that I saye is trew and certayn,
And therfor dowt no more!
SECUND MARYE.
Brother, we saughe our Lord face to face!
He apperit to vs in this same place,
And bad vs mowrne not so sore!
THRIDE MAR[Y]E.
He bade vs testify and telle
That he was resyn in flesh and felle,
And dy he shalle no more!
PETERE.
A, Mary, gret grace to youe is lent,
To whom our Lord was so content
Befor other tille apere.
MAWDLEN.
He said ye alle shuld see hym in Galilee,
And, Peter, youreselfe expresly namyd hee.
Therfore, be of gud chere!
ANDREWE.
Yit to his sepulcre lat vs go and see,
To satisfye our myndes from alle perplexitee!
PETER.
So cownselle I we doo!
Tunc ibunt. Precurrens, Johannes dicit.
[JOHN].
PETRUS.
ANDREWE.
This resurrection to alle þe warld is consolation,
For of oure fayth it is trew consolation,
Approvid by his diuinitee!
JOHANNES EUANGELISTA.
Tunc cantant omnes simul: ‘Scimus Christum’, vell aliam sequentiam aut ympnum de resurrectione. Post cantum dicit Joh[an]nes, finem faciens.
[JOHANNES].
Loo! Down fro hevyn euermor grace dos springe!
The gudnese of God is incomparabille, yee see!
Her was sorow and mourniynge, lamentacion and wepinge;
Now is joy and gladnese, and of comfurth plentee!
Joyfully depart we now owt of this place,
Mekly abidinge the inspiration of grace,
Which we belefe
Schalle com to vs this nyght!
Now, farwelle, euery wighte!
We commend yow alle to his myght,
Which for vs suffert grefe!
Explicit.
Mawdleyne begynnes, sayinge:
[MAWDLEYNE].
O, this grete hevynese and payn!
Alese, how longe shalle it remayn?
How longe shalle it endure,
And rist within my most carfulle hart?
How longe shalle I feyle this dedly smarte?
Who shalle my sorowe cure?
Alese, how longe shalle it remayn?
How longe shalle it endure,
And rist within my most carfulle hart?
How longe shalle I feyle this dedly smarte?
Who shalle my sorowe cure?
How longe shalle I lef in desolation?
When shalle þe houre com of consolation,
That my master I maye see,
Which opon the Friday laste,
Was crucified and nailit fast,
Peteosly tille a tree?
When shalle þe houre com of consolation,
That my master I maye see,
Which opon the Friday laste,
Was crucified and nailit fast,
Peteosly tille a tree?
So pyteose a sight and lamentabille,
So dolorose and miserabille,
I hop ye shalle neuer fynd!
Cursid Kayn was verrey cruelle,
And slew his awn brothere Abelle,
Of a maliciose mynd;
So dolorose and miserabille,
I hop ye shalle neuer fynd!
Cursid Kayn was verrey cruelle,
And slew his awn brothere Abelle,
Of a maliciose mynd;
Yit was he not so maliciose
Ose the cruelle Jewes most owtragiose
Which here has slayn my Lord!
The sonnes of Jacob gret envy had
Agayns þer brother Joseph, ȝonge, wise, and sad,
Os scriptur doth record.
Ose the cruelle Jewes most owtragiose
Which here has slayn my Lord!
The sonnes of Jacob gret envy had
Agayns þer brother Joseph, ȝonge, wise, and sad,
Os scriptur doth record.
170
Thay intendit to slo hym malishosly,
And yit þay did not soo cruelly,
Os wrought thes Jewes wild!
Few ȝeres past, Herod the kinge
Put to deth many ȝonglinge,
And many moders child,
And yit þay did not soo cruelly,
Os wrought thes Jewes wild!
Few ȝeres past, Herod the kinge
Put to deth many ȝonglinge,
And many moders child,
Here in the land off Israelle;
But of such cruelte harde ye neuer telle
Ose done was one Fridaye,
When so grete rigore and tyrannye
Was in theire hartes to garre hym dye,
Which was so graciose aye.
But of such cruelte harde ye neuer telle
Ose done was one Fridaye,
When so grete rigore and tyrannye
Was in theire hartes to garre hym dye,
Which was so graciose aye.
Abelle and Josephe wer gude and graciose,
But theire dedes wer not so gloriose,
Nor of so vertuose kynd,
Ose of hym which in his humanitee
Wrought grete myracles in his diuinitee,
Als ye may calle to mynd.
But theire dedes wer not so gloriose,
Nor of so vertuose kynd,
Ose of hym which in his humanitee
Wrought grete myracles in his diuinitee,
Als ye may calle to mynd.
For alle his werkes so welle devyside,
Emange tham thus to be dispised,
And with cruellty slayn!
Ales, when I remembere his woo,
Scantly may I spek or goo,
In harte I haue such payn.
Emange tham thus to be dispised,
And with cruellty slayn!
Ales, when I remembere his woo,
Scantly may I spek or goo,
In harte I haue such payn.
I haue bought here oyntmentes preciouse
To ensalue his body most graciose,
To doo it reuerence.
My sister Cleophe saide that shee
To the sepulcre wald goo with mee,
And doo hir diligence.
To ensalue his body most graciose,
To doo it reuerence.
My sister Cleophe saide that shee
To the sepulcre wald goo with mee,
And doo hir diligence.
Of the thrid day this is þe mornynge,
And of my dere master yit herd I nothinge,
Wherfor I am moste hevee.
Alese, felishipe her is noon!
Rathere then I faile, I wille go alone.
A, dere Lorde, your mercee!
And of my dere master yit herd I nothinge,
Wherfor I am moste hevee.
Alese, felishipe her is noon!
Rathere then I faile, I wille go alone.
A, dere Lorde, your mercee!
171
[SECUND MARYE].
A, my harte, what þou art faynt!
How longe shalle we thus mak complaynt?
So sorowfulle tym neuer was!
When shalle comforth com of our desire?
What woman is this þat lyes here?
It is Mawdleyn, alese!
How longe shalle we thus mak complaynt?
So sorowfulle tym neuer was!
When shalle comforth com of our desire?
What woman is this þat lyes here?
It is Mawdleyn, alese!
Sister Mawdleyn, why waile ye on this wise?
Gud sister, we pray ȝou, stand vp, arise!
Comforth yourself wyslye!
Gud sister, we pray ȝou, stand vp, arise!
Comforth yourself wyslye!
MAWDLEYN.
Off your commynge, sister, I am glade.
Iwise, I knaw welle þat ȝe be sadd;
Ye haue cawse os welle os I!
SECUND MARYE.
Ther is no gud creatur, dar I saye,
But inwardly sorowe he may,
And compleyn bitterlye,
To remembere the felle torment,
And cruelle payne of this innocent,
Which levit so vertuoslye.
But inwardly sorowe he may,
And compleyn bitterlye,
To remembere the felle torment,
And cruelle payne of this innocent,
Which levit so vertuoslye.
Of his meknese hymself he offred,
Whatsoeuer payn to hym was profred,
This lambe, God[es] Sonn so free;
Nothinge ragid he, ne was vnpaciente,
But euer most mekly tille his payn he went,
With bayne benignitee.
Whatsoeuer payn to hym was profred,
This lambe, God[es] Sonn so free;
Nothinge ragid he, ne was vnpaciente,
But euer most mekly tille his payn he went,
With bayne benignitee.
From the tym of Abrahame,
And þat our faders from Egip cam,
Or when sorow was maste,
I am suere was neuer day so piteouse,
So doolfulle and so dangerouse,
Ose Friday that is paste,
And þat our faders from Egip cam,
Or when sorow was maste,
I am suere was neuer day so piteouse,
So doolfulle and so dangerouse,
Ose Friday that is paste,
172
When alle the crueltye was owt sought,
To distroy hym made alle thing of noght,
To sloo hym that gyves life?
Owt of my mynd this neuer goo shalle,
That for man diete the maker of alle,
By his manhed passyve.
To distroy hym made alle thing of noght,
To sloo hym that gyves life?
Owt of my mynd this neuer goo shalle,
That for man diete the maker of alle,
By his manhed passyve.
MAWDLEYN.
So doolfulle a day was neuer befor this!
But go we to the monyment where his sepulcre is,
To anoynte his body there.
SECUND MARYE.
Sister, I com for that sam intent;
Ther is nothinge can me better content;
To go, I haue no fere.
MAWDLEYN.
Then, gude sister, lat vs goo devowtlee.
SECUNDE MARYE.
Abide! Yonder commes Marye Jacobee!
I trow with vs sho wille goo.
Thride Marye commys in.
[THRIDE MARYE].
O, gude sisters, how is it with ȝowe?
MAWDLEYN.
A, dere sister, neuer soo eville os nowe!
THRID MARYE.
Gud Mawdleyn, say not soo!
This is the third day, ȝe remember welle.
MAWDLEYN.
Ye, bot of my master and Lorde I her not telle,
Therfore I can not cease.
We were goynge to [the] monyment
Wheros lyeth that swete innocent.
Loo, here, oyntmentes of swetnese!
THRID MARYE.
Gude sisters, on yow shalle I wayte.
SECUNDE MARYE.
Then let vs tak þe way furth strayte.
MAWDLEYN.
Sisters, I perceyve the place is her bye.
Lat vs ordeyn our oyntmentes accordinglye,
With alle humylite.
Here lyes he þat was mercifulle to synners alle;
Here lyese he most piteose when we did calle;
Com nerr, sisters, and see!
Lat vs ordeyn our oyntmentes accordinglye,
With alle humylite.
Here lyes he þat was mercifulle to synners alle;
Here lyese he most piteose when we did calle;
Com nerr, sisters, and see!
173
Lo, here is the place wher þe body was laid,
Which born was of a virgyn and a cleyn maid.
Tille honour it, grete cawse haue wee.
Gud sisters, be we not affrayd
To do hym reuerence and dewtee.
Which born was of a virgyn and a cleyn maid.
Tille honour it, grete cawse haue wee.
Gud sisters, be we not affrayd
To do hym reuerence and dewtee.
Here he lyeth whose lif surmountes alle oþer,
Which raysed from deth to lyve Lazarus my broþer,
Now a levinge man.
He lyese here, which by his powre devyn,
In Chana Galilee turnyde water to wyn,
Ose many testyfy can.
Which raysed from deth to lyve Lazarus my broþer,
Now a levinge man.
He lyese here, which by his powre devyn,
In Chana Galilee turnyde water to wyn,
Ose many testyfy can.
The angelle spekes:
[ANGELLE].
Whom seke ye, women sanctifiede?
Three Maryes togider sais:
[THREE MARYES].
Jhesus of Nazareth crucified,
The redemer of mankind.
ANGELLE.
He is resyne! He is not here!
To his disciples he shalle apere—
In Galilee thay shalle hym fynd!
To his disciples he shalle apere—
In Galilee thay shalle hym fynd!
Mulier, quid ploras? Woman, why wepis þou soo?
MAWDLEN.
For myn harte is fulle of sorow and woo.
My Lorde, þat was the kinge of blisse,
Is takyn away; I wat not wher he is.
ANGELLE.
Com hidder, women, approche mor nere!
Be of gude comfurth and of gud cher,
For so gret cawse ye haue!
He that ye seke so beselye,
With gude mynd so faythfullye,
Is resyn here from his grave!
Be of gude comfurth and of gud cher,
For so gret cawse ye haue!
He that ye seke so beselye,
With gude mynd so faythfullye,
Is resyn here from his grave!
The Son of Gode in his humanite
Sufferde deth, and by his diuinitee
Is resyn the thrid daye.
For redemption of man was he born,
Displayede on the crose, and alle to-torn,
In right piteose araye.
Sufferde deth, and by his diuinitee
Is resyn the thrid daye.
For redemption of man was he born,
Displayede on the crose, and alle to-torn,
In right piteose araye.
174
The batelle is done and victorye renuyd!
The grete enmy of man þerby is subduyd,
That most hatid mankynd.
Com hidder, and behold with your eye
The place where þe body did lye.
Be joyeos now of mynd!
The grete enmy of man þerby is subduyd,
That most hatid mankynd.
Com hidder, and behold with your eye
The place where þe body did lye.
Be joyeos now of mynd!
Loo, here is the cloth droppid blud,
Which was put on hym takyn of þe rud,
Ose yourself did see.
For a remembrance tak it yee,
And hy yow fast to Galilee—
For ther apper shalle hee!
Which was put on hym takyn of þe rud,
Ose yourself did see.
For a remembrance tak it yee,
And hy yow fast to Galilee—
For ther apper shalle hee!
MAWDLEYN.
Yit must myn herte wepe inwerdlye!
Yit must I mowrn contynuallye,
Myndinge my master dere.
O, what myn harte is hevy and lothe
When I beholde this piteose clothe,
Which in my hande is here!
Yit must I mowrn contynuallye,
Myndinge my master dere.
O, what myn harte is hevy and lothe
When I beholde this piteose clothe,
Which in my hande is here!
This cloth with blude þat is so stayned,
Of a maydens child so sor constraynid,
On cross when he was done!
O rygore vnright! O crueltee!
O wikkit wylfullnese! O peruersitee!
O hartes harde os stone,
Of a maydens child so sor constraynid,
On cross when he was done!
O rygore vnright! O crueltee!
O wikkit wylfullnese! O peruersitee!
O hartes harde os stone,
To put to deth a lamb so meke!
Welle may the teres ron down your cheke!
Welle may your hertes relent,
Myndinge the payn my Lord and master felte!
O, in my body my herte now dothe melte!
To dy I were content.
Welle may the teres ron down your cheke!
Welle may your hertes relent,
Myndinge the payn my Lord and master felte!
O, in my body my herte now dothe melte!
To dy I were content.
SECUND MARYE.
Sister Mawdlen, to blame ye are,
With this dedly sorow yourself to marre,
Yourself thus to torment!
Ye torment your selfe and crucifye!
Ye haue cawse to tak gladnes, and whye,
Ye haue proue evident
With this dedly sorow yourself to marre,
Yourself thus to torment!
Ye torment your selfe and crucifye!
Ye haue cawse to tak gladnes, and whye,
Ye haue proue evident
175
That your master and oures, by his Godly myght,
Is resen from deth to lyfe! An angelle bright
Schewes thes tidinges tille vs,
And shewed vs the place wher his body laye,
Which is not ther! Forþi, let passe a waye
Our sorow most grevouse!
Is resen from deth to lyfe! An angelle bright
Schewes thes tidinges tille vs,
And shewed vs the place wher his body laye,
Which is not ther! Forþi, let passe a waye
Our sorow most grevouse!
THRIDE MARYE.
Sister Mawdlyen, in your hart be stabille.
We shalle here tidinges right comfortabille,
And þat, I trust, shortlye,
For that is suth veritabille,
Saide so afore suthlye.
MAWDLEYN.
A! A, sisters! My slewth and my necligence!
I haue not don my dewty ne my diligence,
Ose vnto me did falle!
At my masters sepulcre if I hade gifen attendance,
And waytid wisely with humble affiance,
Os I was bound most of alle,
I haue not don my dewty ne my diligence,
Ose vnto me did falle!
At my masters sepulcre if I hade gifen attendance,
And waytid wisely with humble affiance,
Os I was bound most of alle,
I shuld haue seyn his vprisinge gloriose
Of my swete Lorde, of þe which desirose
I am, and nedes must bee.
Alese, sisters! I was to tidiose,
That holy sight to see!
Of my swete Lorde, of þe which desirose
I am, and nedes must bee.
Alese, sisters! I was to tidiose,
That holy sight to see!
Than I shuld haue had comforth vncomparabille,
Of the which joye to speke I am not abille!
Than I hade seyn my Lorde
To haue resyn from his sepulture
With his bludy woundes; of hym I had ben sure!
Ales, when I record
Of the which joye to speke I am not abille!
Than I hade seyn my Lorde
To haue resyn from his sepulture
With his bludy woundes; of hym I had ben sure!
Ales, when I record
How I myghte haue had a sight of your presence,
Who then aught of verrey congruence
To be mor glad than I,
Which ye haue callid by your grace onlee,
Beynge gretist synner, vnto your large mercee,
And that most curtesly?
Who then aught of verrey congruence
To be mor glad than I,
Which ye haue callid by your grace onlee,
Beynge gretist synner, vnto your large mercee,
And that most curtesly?
176
Whoso wille not wayte when þat tym is,
When faynest he wold, therof shalle he mysse—
So it faris by mee.
O, wold to God I had made more haste!
My slewthfulle werke is now in wast!
Ȝit, gud Lord, haue þou pitee!
When faynest he wold, therof shalle he mysse—
So it faris by mee.
O, wold to God I had made more haste!
My slewthfulle werke is now in wast!
Ȝit, gud Lord, haue þou pitee!
When Symon to dyner did hym calle,
Amonges the gestes and straungers alle,
With meknese soberlye,
I com in with mynde contrite,
For I hade levid in fowlle delite,
In syn of licherye.
Amonges the gestes and straungers alle,
With meknese soberlye,
I com in with mynde contrite,
For I hade levid in fowlle delite,
In syn of licherye.
Notwithstandinge the gret abhomynation
Of my grete synnes fulle of execration,
Yit of his benignite,
As with alle mercy he was replete,
He sufferte me with teris to wesh his fete!
Loo, his mercyfulle pitee!
Of my grete synnes fulle of execration,
Yit of his benignite,
As with alle mercy he was replete,
He sufferte me with teris to wesh his fete!
Loo, his mercyfulle pitee!
My synfulle lippes, which I did abuse,
To towch his blessit fleshe he wald not refuse.
And ther right oppenlye,
Off his most piteouse tendernese,
The pardoun of my synnes and gret excesse
He gaue to me hoolye!
To towch his blessit fleshe he wald not refuse.
And ther right oppenlye,
Off his most piteouse tendernese,
The pardoun of my synnes and gret excesse
He gaue to me hoolye!
Now may I wringe, both wepe and wayle,
Myndinge on Friday his gret bataile
He had on crosse of tree,
And tuk opon hym for vs alle
To ouercom the fend þat made vs falle!
A, sisters, welle mowrn may wee!
Myndinge on Friday his gret bataile
He had on crosse of tree,
And tuk opon hym for vs alle
To ouercom the fend þat made vs falle!
A, sisters, welle mowrn may wee!
SECUND MARYE.
Sister Mawdleyn, it is bot in vayn
Thus remedilesse to mak compleyn.
Therfor it is the best,
Ych on of vs a diuerse way to take;
His apperinge joyfulle may vs make,
And set ouir hartes in reste.
177
Ye, to sek and inquere, let vs faste hye,
Sister Mawdlen! This is next remedye,
And þerfore departe wee!
MAWDLEYN.
O Lorde and master, help vs in hye
To haue a sight of thee!
Tunc exeunt hee tres Marie. Petrus intrat, flens amare.
[PETER].
O, allmyghty God, which with thyn inward ee
Seest the depest place of mannys conscience,
And knowest euery thinge most cler and perfitlee,
Haue mercy, haue pitee, haue þou compatience!
I confess and knowlege my most gret offence,
My fowle presumption and vnstabilnesse.
Let þi mekille mercy ouerflowe my synfulnesse!
Seest the depest place of mannys conscience,
And knowest euery thinge most cler and perfitlee,
Haue mercy, haue pitee, haue þou compatience!
I confess and knowlege my most gret offence,
My fowle presumption and vnstabilnesse.
Let þi mekille mercy ouerflowe my synfulnesse!
And yit I knaw welle,
No erthly thinge can telle,
Nor ȝit it expresse,
My fawtes and gret syn,
Which I am wrappid in
With dedly hevinesse!
No erthly thinge can telle,
Nor ȝit it expresse,
My fawtes and gret syn,
Which I am wrappid in
With dedly hevinesse!
Ther may not be lightly a greter trispesse
Then the seruaunt the master to denye!
His owne master! His own kind master, alesse!
I mak confession here most sorowfullye
That I denyed mayster, and þat most unkindlye!
For when thay did enquere if þat I did hym knoo,
I saide I neuer sawe hym! Alesse! Why did I soo?
Then the seruaunt the master to denye!
His owne master! His own kind master, alesse!
I mak confession here most sorowfullye
That I denyed mayster, and þat most unkindlye!
For when thay did enquere if þat I did hym knoo,
I saide I neuer sawe hym! Alesse! Why did I soo?
With teres of contrition,
With teres of compassion,
Welle may I mowrnynge make!
What a fawte it was,
The seruaunte, alas,
His master to forsake!
With teres of compassion,
Welle may I mowrnynge make!
What a fawte it was,
The seruaunte, alas,
His master to forsake!
178
When his grace callid me fro warldly besines,
And of a poore fishere his disciple chas mee,
I was callit Symon Bariona, playnly to expresse.
But he namid me ‘Petrus’—Petra was hee!
Petra is a ston, fulle of stabilitee,
Alway stedfaste! Alase! Wherfor was I
Not stabille accordinge to my nam, stedfastlye?
And of a poore fishere his disciple chas mee,
I was callit Symon Bariona, playnly to expresse.
But he namid me ‘Petrus’—Petra was hee!
Petra is a ston, fulle of stabilitee,
Alway stedfaste! Alase! Wherfor was I
Not stabille accordinge to my nam, stedfastlye?
O, my febille promesse!
O, my gret vnkindnesse,
To my shame resaruyd!
O, mynde so vnstabille!
Thou hast made me culpabille!
Deth I haue deseruyd!
O, my gret vnkindnesse,
To my shame resaruyd!
O, mynde so vnstabille!
Thou hast made me culpabille!
Deth I haue deseruyd!
It plesid thy gudnese gret kindnese to shew mee,
Callinge me to þi grace and gudly conuersation;
And when it pleasid thi Godhed to tak but three
To beholde and see the highe speculation
Of thy Godly maiestye in thy transfyguration,
Thy specialle grace did abille me for on,
With the gud blessid James, and þi cosyn John.
Callinge me to þi grace and gudly conuersation;
And when it pleasid thi Godhed to tak but three
To beholde and see the highe speculation
Of thy Godly maiestye in thy transfyguration,
Thy specialle grace did abille me for on,
With the gud blessid James, and þi cosyn John.
Alese, þat I was so vnkind
To hym, so tender of mynd
To me, most vnworthye!
Ales, the paynes ar smarte,
Which I fele at my harte,
And that so bitterlye!
To hym, so tender of mynd
To me, most vnworthye!
Ales, the paynes ar smarte,
Which I fele at my harte,
And that so bitterlye!
O Lorde, what example of meknesse shewed yee!
On Thursday after supere, it pleasid your grace
To wesh your seruauntes fete. Who euer are did see
More perfite meknese shewet in any case?
I myself was present in the same place.
Alese! Of myself why presumyd I,
Consideringe your meknese, don so stedfastlye?
On Thursday after supere, it pleasid your grace
To wesh your seruauntes fete. Who euer are did see
More perfite meknese shewet in any case?
I myself was present in the same place.
Alese! Of myself why presumyd I,
Consideringe your meknese, don so stedfastlye?
179
A, myn vnkinde chaunce!
When it commys to remembrance,
In my mynde it is euer!
I fele owt of mesure
Dedly payn and displesure,
That I can not desseuere.
When it commys to remembrance,
In my mynde it is euer!
I fele owt of mesure
Dedly payn and displesure,
That I can not desseuere.
O mercyfulle redemer, who may yit recownte
The paynes which þiself for vs did endure?
Vnworthy if I were, I was with þe in þe mount,
Where þou swet bludy droppes man saule to recure.
In that gret agonye, I am right verrey sure,
Stony hartes of flint, þou wald þam haue mevid,
Seynge thy tendernese to man, by þe relevid!
The paynes which þiself for vs did endure?
Vnworthy if I were, I was with þe in þe mount,
Where þou swet bludy droppes man saule to recure.
In that gret agonye, I am right verrey sure,
Stony hartes of flint, þou wald þam haue mevid,
Seynge thy tendernese to man, by þe relevid!
O, that passion was grete,
When blud[y] droppes of swet
Ran down apace!
That was excedinge payne
In euery membere and vayn,
As apperit by his face.
When blud[y] droppes of swet
Ran down apace!
That was excedinge payne
In euery membere and vayn,
As apperit by his face.
Of Judas thow were betrayede by and bye,
Which was thy discipulle, and familiere with the;
It grevid the more, I knew it certanlye,
He was fede at þi burde of þi benignitee,
And ȝit [thow] were betrayed by his iniquitee!
Yf a straunger had don þat dede so trayterouse,
It had beyn mor tolerabille and not so greuowse.
Which was thy discipulle, and familiere with the;
It grevid the more, I knew it certanlye,
He was fede at þi burde of þi benignitee,
And ȝit [thow] were betrayed by his iniquitee!
Yf a straunger had don þat dede so trayterouse,
It had beyn mor tolerabille and not so greuowse.
Dauid did say in prophecye,
‘Homo pacis mee, in quo speraui,
Supplantauit me’.
O Lord, your pacience may be perceyvid,
Which suffert so to be betrayed
Of Judas! Woo is hee!
‘Homo pacis mee, in quo speraui,
Supplantauit me’.
O Lord, your pacience may be perceyvid,
Which suffert so to be betrayed
Of Judas! Woo is hee!
180
Fulle of wo may I bee, sorowfulle and pensyve,
Complenynge and wepinge with sorow inwertlee,
And wep bitter teres alle þe days of my life!
My vnstabille delinge is euer in myn ee.
I saide I wald not leve my master for to dee;
He said I shuld forsak hym or þe cok crow thris.
But I was presumptuose, vnware, and vnwise!
Complenynge and wepinge with sorow inwertlee,
And wep bitter teres alle þe days of my life!
My vnstabille delinge is euer in myn ee.
I saide I wald not leve my master for to dee;
He said I shuld forsak hym or þe cok crow thris.
But I was presumptuose, vnware, and vnwise!
Afterwerd, when hee
Lokid opon mee
With a myld cowntenaunce,
Ose he stude on the ground,
Emange his enmyse bownd,
O, I wepit abundaunce!
Lokid opon mee
With a myld cowntenaunce,
Ose he stude on the ground,
Emange his enmyse bownd,
O, I wepit abundaunce!
Then my teres continuelly
Ran down most sorowfully,
And yit thay can not cesse;
How may I cesse or stynte?
Yf my harte wer of flinte,
I haue caus to wepe, dowtlese!
Ran down most sorowfully,
And yit thay can not cesse;
How may I cesse or stynte?
Yf my harte wer of flinte,
I haue caus to wepe, dowtlese!
O caytife! O wofulle wreche!
From thy harte þou may feche
Sore and sighes depe!
O, most vnkind man!
What creatur may or can
The from sclaunder kepe?
From thy harte þou may feche
Sore and sighes depe!
O, most vnkind man!
What creatur may or can
The from sclaunder kepe?
To forsake þi master so tender and soo gud,
Which gaue to þe þe keyes of alle holy kirke,
And morouer for thy sake shed his own blud!
O synfulle caytyfe! Now aught I sore tille irke!
Which gaue to þe þe keyes of alle holy kirke,
And morouer for thy sake shed his own blud!
O synfulle caytyfe! Now aught I sore tille irke!
Ales, John! Why did not I
Folow my master so tenderlye
Os ȝe did, to the ende?
But for ye delt soo stedfastlye,
My master gaue you Marye
To kep in your commend.
Folow my master so tenderlye
Os ȝe did, to the ende?
But for ye delt soo stedfastlye,
My master gaue you Marye
To kep in your commend.
181
Yf this dedly woo and sorowe
Endure with me vnto tomorowe,
Myn hart in sunder wille breke!
Now, Lorde, for þi tender mercyes alle,
Reconcyle me to grace, and to þi mercy calle!
Ales, I may not speke!
Endure with me vnto tomorowe,
Myn hart in sunder wille breke!
Now, Lorde, for þi tender mercyes alle,
Reconcyle me to grace, and to þi mercy calle!
Ales, I may not speke!
Et sic cadit in terram, flens amare. [Andreas et Iohannes intrant.] Andreas, frater Petri, dicit.
[ANDREAS].
A brothere Peter, what nedes alle þis?
I se welle, good cowncelle wille yow mysse.
Dry vp your teres and rise!
Comforth yourselfe, I require yow, and praye!
We shalle haue gud tidinges! This is þe thrid day!
Sorow not in this wise!
JOHANNES EUANGELISTA.
Stand vp, gud brothere, and mesur your hevynese!
This gret contrition of your hart, dowtlese,
To God is plesant sacrifice.
PETRUS.
A, gud brethere Andrewe and John,
Was neuer creatur so wobegon
Os I, wrech most vnwyse!
Was neuer creatur so wobegon
Os I, wrech most vnwyse!
For, rememberinge the infinite gudnese
Of my Lorde, and my most vnkyndnese
Don so writchitlye,
At my hart sorow sittes so sore
That my dedly payn encresis mor and more!
Alese, my gret folye!
Of my Lorde, and my most vnkyndnese
Don so writchitlye,
At my hart sorow sittes so sore
That my dedly payn encresis mor and more!
Alese, my gret folye!
ANDREAS.
Gud brothere Peter, yourself ȝe comfort!
Ther is none of alle bot comfurth may he hafe,
For emonges vs agayn our Lorde shalle resorte!
By his passion his purpasse was mankind to saue.
This is the thrid daye, in which from his graue
He shalle arise fro deth, I haue no dowte.
Therfor, lett comfurth put this sorowe owt!
Ther is none of alle bot comfurth may he hafe,
For emonges vs agayn our Lorde shalle resorte!
By his passion his purpasse was mankind to saue.
This is the thrid daye, in which from his graue
He shalle arise fro deth, I haue no dowte.
Therfor, lett comfurth put this sorowe owt!
182
Brothere Peter, þe verrey truth to saye,
Few of vs alle hade perfit stedfastnesse,
But sumwhat dowtid, and wer owt of the waye,
Notwithstandinge of his Godhed the clernesse,
Schewed by his miracles, with alle perfitnese.
And yf ye remember, brothere, in his last oblation
He spak of our vnstabilnesse, and of his desolation,
Few of vs alle hade perfit stedfastnesse,
But sumwhat dowtid, and wer owt of the waye,
Notwithstandinge of his Godhed the clernesse,
Schewed by his miracles, with alle perfitnese.
And yf ye remember, brothere, in his last oblation
He spak of our vnstabilnesse, and of his desolation,
Saynge ‘Omnes vos scandalum patiemini’—
‘Alle ye shalle suffer sclaunder for me’—
Os who say, ‘Ye shalle forsak me alonly;
The hird-man shal be strikyn, and þe flokk’—which we bee—
‘Schal be disperbilit, and away shalle flee’.
Loo, gud brother Peter, he knew our frealtes alle;
Our gude master is mercifulle and graciose withalle.
‘Alle ye shalle suffer sclaunder for me’—
Os who say, ‘Ye shalle forsak me alonly;
The hird-man shal be strikyn, and þe flokk’—which we bee—
‘Schal be disperbilit, and away shalle flee’.
Loo, gud brother Peter, he knew our frealtes alle;
Our gude master is mercifulle and graciose withalle.
And yow, brother Peter, the most specialli
Hase cause of comfurth, for of his church þe hed
He chace you by order, by his grace frelye;
Forþi, from your harte put þis fere and dred!
Yf ye remember, he said to yow indede,
‘Thy faith shalle neuer faile, whatsoeuer befalle’.
Therfor, haue gud hope, and comforth spiritualle!
Hase cause of comfurth, for of his church þe hed
He chace you by order, by his grace frelye;
Forþi, from your harte put þis fere and dred!
Yf ye remember, he said to yow indede,
‘Thy faith shalle neuer faile, whatsoeuer befalle’.
Therfor, haue gud hope, and comforth spiritualle!
Ye askit hym ons a whestion, wherwith he was content,
How oft to your brother synn ye shuld relese.
Ye thought seuen tymmes were verrey sufficient,
But he said sevynty tymes and seuen ye suld forgif, dow[t]les.
A gret now[m]ber, it plesit hym tille expresse
The gret frelty of man he saw in his Godly mynd—
Forthy for your trispace pardon may ye find.
How oft to your brother synn ye shuld relese.
Ye thought seuen tymmes were verrey sufficient,
But he said sevynty tymes and seuen ye suld forgif, dow[t]les.
A gret now[m]ber, it plesit hym tille expresse
The gret frelty of man he saw in his Godly mynd—
Forthy for your trispace pardon may ye find.
Howbeit, of yourself to presume, to blame ye were;
Man, þat is freale, of hymself suld haue fere.
Your pennance [and] contrition acceptabille must bee;
Therfor, in your harte rejoye ye may be fayn,
Rememberinge he has put [yow] in gret auctoritee.
That he has saide ons, he wille neuer calle agayn;
‘Quodcumque ligaueris’, he said—þes wordes ar playn—
And gaue yow þe keyes of hevyn and of helle,
So to lowse and to bynd—this can we alle telle!
Man, þat is freale, of hymself suld haue fere.
183
Therfor, in your harte rejoye ye may be fayn,
Rememberinge he has put [yow] in gret auctoritee.
That he has saide ons, he wille neuer calle agayn;
‘Quodcumque ligaueris’, he said—þes wordes ar playn—
And gaue yow þe keyes of hevyn and of helle,
So to lowse and to bynd—this can we alle telle!
JOHANNES EUANGELISTA.
Gude brother Peter, marke ye welle, and note;
The wordes of Andrewe beyn sadd and ponderose.
In your conscience I knaw welle is noȝt so great mot,
But that mercy may clere it, of hym that is so graciose.
Perauenter it was þe wille of our master Jhesus
That ȝe shuld not be present his passion to see,
Which he hade on the hille in þe most crueltee.
The wordes of Andrewe beyn sadd and ponderose.
In your conscience I knaw welle is noȝt so great mot,
But that mercy may clere it, of hym that is so graciose.
Perauenter it was þe wille of our master Jhesus
That ȝe shuld not be present his passion to see,
Which he hade on the hille in þe most crueltee.
Peter, if ye had seyn your mastere at þat poynt,
I trov þat syȝt had beyn to hevy to yow tille endure.
He had torment opon torment in euery vayn and joynt,
He was so harde nailet to þat paynfulle lure;
His flesh þat was so tender, born of a mayden pure,
And was wont to be towchid with virgyns handes swet,
Was al totorn most piteosly from hede to þe fet,
I trov þat syȝt had beyn to hevy to yow tille endure.
He had torment opon torment in euery vayn and joynt,
He was so harde nailet to þat paynfulle lure;
His flesh þat was so tender, born of a mayden pure,
And was wont to be towchid with virgyns handes swet,
Was al totorn most piteosly from hede to þe fet,
When his body was halid and stritchid with ropes,
To caws his armes and fet to þe holes extend,
Then þe nayles dreffyn in, and of þe blude dropes
Ran owt so plentuosly; his wille it was to spend
Alle his precios blude, mannes sor tille amend.
Withowt compleint he suffert the nayles and þe spere;
But gretist payn þat he had was for his moder dere.
To caws his armes and fet to þe holes extend,
Then þe nayles dreffyn in, and of þe blude dropes
Ran owt so plentuosly; his wille it was to spend
Alle his precios blude, mannes sor tille amend.
Withowt compleint he suffert the nayles and þe spere;
But gretist payn þat he had was for his moder dere.
He sufferd patiently
To be betrayed vnkindly,
To be accusid falsly,
To be intraytid cruelly,
To be scornyd most dedenynglye,
To be juged wrangfully,
To be dampnyt to deth dolfully,
With other paynes sere;
To be crucified piteosly,
To be woundid vniuersally,
With scowrges, nayles, and spere.
To be betrayed vnkindly,
To be accusid falsly,
To be intraytid cruelly,
To be scornyd most dedenynglye,
184
To be dampnyt to deth dolfully,
With other paynes sere;
To be crucified piteosly,
To be woundid vniuersally,
With scowrges, nayles, and spere.
For thes causes he wald be born of a maid most obedient.
Now the gret rawnson is paied which was a requirid
For redemption of man of the Fader omnipotent.
The tyme of desolation is now expirid;
The tym of grace is commen, so longe of vs desirid!
Hevyn ȝeates, so longe closid for gret syn,
Our Saueyour gafe yow the keyes to open and to lat in.
Now the gret rawnson is paied which was a requirid
For redemption of man of the Fader omnipotent.
The tyme of desolation is now expirid;
The tym of grace is commen, so longe of vs desirid!
Hevyn ȝeates, so longe closid for gret syn,
Our Saueyour gafe yow the keyes to open and to lat in.
He knew welle, for his deth we shuld be afrayed,
And þerfor ose ȝe remembere, he told vs afore.
His Godhed saw welle þat we shuld be dismaid;
Of his resurrection he comfortid vs therfore,
He saide he shuld arise, and live eueremore!
This is the thride daye: therfor, dowt nothinge,
But shortly we shalle here of his gloriose vprisinge!
And þerfor ose ȝe remembere, he told vs afore.
His Godhed saw welle þat we shuld be dismaid;
Of his resurrection he comfortid vs therfore,
He saide he shuld arise, and live eueremore!
This is the thride daye: therfor, dowt nothinge,
But shortly we shalle here of his gloriose vprisinge!
Brether, I wolde tarrye with yow longer here,
But nedes I must go to the virgyn mylde.
Most sorowfulle is hir hart, most hevy is hir chere;
Alle joye and comfurthe from hir is exilde;
Alle hir rememberance is of hir dere childe.
My master assignyt me to gyve hir attendance,
And that is my dewtye, with alle humblye obseruance.
But nedes I must go to the virgyn mylde.
Most sorowfulle is hir hart, most hevy is hir chere;
Alle joye and comfurthe from hir is exilde;
Alle hir rememberance is of hir dere childe.
My master assignyt me to gyve hir attendance,
And that is my dewtye, with alle humblye obseruance.
Hir sorow increacyse aye,
As welle nyght os daye,
In most piteose araye;
For I dar say suerlye,
Sen hir son was betrayed,
And in his grave layde,
The maid hase me dismaid,
For sorow inwerdlye,
As welle nyght os daye,
In most piteose araye;
For I dar say suerlye,
Sen hir son was betrayed,
And in his grave layde,
The maid hase me dismaid,
For sorow inwerdlye,
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That sho nowther tuk rist ne slepe,
Ne from hevynese hirself cowth kepe,
But euermore stille dose sho wepe,
That I am verrey sure
Hartes harder then stone
Wold be mollyfyed anone,
And melte to see hire mone,
That sho dose endure.
Ne from hevynese hirself cowth kepe,
But euermore stille dose sho wepe,
That I am verrey sure
Hartes harder then stone
Wold be mollyfyed anone,
And melte to see hire mone,
That sho dose endure.
To here hir mourn so moderlye,
To se hir wep so tenderlye,
Alle myn hert, it fayles;
Now sho spekes of the scornes,
Now sho remembers þe thornes,
And the grete sturdy nayles!
To se hir wep so tenderlye,
Alle myn hert, it fayles;
Now sho spekes of the scornes,
Now sho remembers þe thornes,
And the grete sturdy nayles!
Now sho spekes of his pacience,
Now sho myndes his obedience,
That vnto deth was.
Now of his visage spekes shee,
Defilid with deformyte,
Of fowlle spittinge, alasse!
Now sho myndes his obedience,
That vnto deth was.
Now of his visage spekes shee,
Defilid with deformyte,
Of fowlle spittinge, alasse!
Now of his woundes dos sho speke,
And of the sper which did breke
Hir sonnes blessid sid.
Thus is sho alle comfurthlesse,
Replet with alle dulfulnesse—
Therfor, I may not bide.
And of the sper which did breke
Hir sonnes blessid sid.
Thus is sho alle comfurthlesse,
Replet with alle dulfulnesse—
Therfor, I may not bide.
As for this tym, I wille departe.
Brother Peter, be of gud harte,
For other cause haue ye none.
Now farwelle for a starte,
I shalle ȝow mete anon.
Brother Peter, be of gud harte,
For other cause haue ye none.
Now farwelle for a starte,
I shalle ȝow mete anon.
PETER.
Praye fore me, brother, for Goddes sake!
JOHANNES EUANGELISTA.
Brothere, to yow no discomfurth take,
But truste euer faithfullye!
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And that, I trust, shortlye.
Tunc exit Iohannes et dicit Petrus:
[PETER].
Brothere Andrewe, God reward ȝoue euer speciallye!
For John and ye, with youre swete wordes of consolation,
Hase easid my mynd with comforte stedfastlye.
I am in trewe faith and hope without desperation,
In my saule now havynge spiritualle iubilation,
Trustinge on the mercy of my master and Lord,
Of whose infinite gudnese I shalle euer record.
For John and ye, with youre swete wordes of consolation,
Hase easid my mynd with comforte stedfastlye.
I am in trewe faith and hope without desperation,
In my saule now havynge spiritualle iubilation,
Trustinge on the mercy of my master and Lord,
Of whose infinite gudnese I shalle euer record.
Let the dew of mercy falle opon vs:
‘Ostende faciem tuam et salui erimus!’
Schewe thy powere, gud Lord, and to vs appere!
Let beames of thi grace approche to vs nere,
Super nos, writchit synners!
‘Ostende faciem tuam et salui erimus!’
Schewe thy powere, gud Lord, and to vs appere!
Let beames of thi grace approche to vs nere,
Super nos, writchit synners!
[Exeunt Petrus et Andreas] Intrat Maria Magdalena.
[MAWDLEYN].
O, I, writchit creature, what shalle I doo?
O, I, a wofulle woman, whidere salle I goo?
My Lorde, wher shalle I find?
When shalle I se that desirid face,
Which was so fulle of bewty and grace,
To me, the most vnkind?
O, I, a wofulle woman, whidere salle I goo?
My Lorde, wher shalle I find?
When shalle I se that desirid face,
Which was so fulle of bewty and grace,
To me, the most vnkind?
I haue sought and besely inquerid
Hym whom my harte alleway has desired,
And so desiries stille.
‘Quem diligit anima mea, quesiui;
Quesiui illum, et non inueni!’
When shalle I haue my wille?
Hym whom my harte alleway has desired,
And so desiries stille.
‘Quem diligit anima mea, quesiui;
Quesiui illum, et non inueni!’
When shalle I haue my wille?
I haue sought hym desirusly,
I haue sought hym affectuosly,
With besines of my mynd.
I haue sought hym with mynd hartely,
The tresure wherin my hart dose lye.
O Deth, thou arte vnkind!
On me vse thou and exercise
The auctorite of thyn office!
My bales thou may vnbind!
I haue sought hym affectuosly,
With besines of my mynd.
I haue sought hym with mynd hartely,
The tresure wherin my hart dose lye.
O Deth, thou arte vnkind!
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The auctorite of thyn office!
My bales thou may vnbind!
What offence, Deth, haue I don to the,
Which art so ouer-vnkind to mee?
Nay, nay, Deth, be not soo!
Filie Jerusalem, wheros ye goo,
Nunciate dilecto meo
Quia amore langueo!
Which art so ouer-vnkind to mee?
Nay, nay, Deth, be not soo!
Filie Jerusalem, wheros ye goo,
Nunciate dilecto meo
Quia amore langueo!
Of Jerusalem, ye virgyns clere,
Schew my best loue that I was here,
Telle hym, os he may prove,
That I am dedly seke,
And alle is for his loue.
Schew my best loue that I was here,
Telle hym, os he may prove,
That I am dedly seke,
And alle is for his loue.
Jhesus intrat, in specie ortulani, dicens:
[JHESUS].
Mulier, ploras? Quem queris?
Woman, why wepis thou? Whom sekes thou thus?
Telle me whome thou wald haue.
MAWDLEN.
I sek my master and swete Lorde, Jhesus,
Which her was layd in grave.
JHESUS.
Woman, thou mournest to piteoslye,
And compleynist the most hevilye;
Thy mynd is not content.
Thyn hart is trowblit, welle I see,
Alle fulle doloruse os thinkes mee;
Thou has not thyn intente.
MAUDLEYN.
Myn intent, that knawes hee
On whom my hart is set, and ay shal bee.
Gardener, I yowe praye,
Schew vnto me, if ye can,
Yf that ye did see here ony man
Tak his body awaye.
Jhesus
dicit:
‘Maria!’
Mawdleyn
awnswers:
‘Raboni!’
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Noli me tangere!
Mary, towche me not now!
But into Galilee go thowe,
And to my brether saye,
Mary, towche me not now!
But into Galilee go thowe,
And to my brether saye,
And to Peter, which sorowfulle is,
That I am resen from dethe to lif ay in blisse,
Renynge perpetuallye!
Exhort tham to be of gud chere,
And hastely wylle I to tham aper,
To comfurth joefullye!
Exit Jhesus.
That I am resen from dethe to lif ay in blisse,
Renynge perpetuallye!
Exhort tham to be of gud chere,
And hastely wylle I to tham aper,
To comfurth joefullye!
MAWDLEYN.
O, myn harte, wher hast thou bee?
Com hom agayn, and leve with mee!
My gret sorow is past!
Now may thou entone a mery songe,
For he, whom thou desirid so longe,
I haue foun now at laste!
Com hom agayn, and leve with mee!
My gret sorow is past!
Now may thou entone a mery songe,
For he, whom thou desirid so longe,
I haue foun now at laste!
I thanke your grace with hert intere,
That of yowre gudnese to me wald apere,
And make my hert thus light.
That of yowre gudnese to me wald apere,
And make my hert thus light.
Secund Marye intrat cum tercia.
[SECUND MARYE].
Soror, nuncia nobis!
Gud Mawdleyn! Sister, how standes with yow?
MAWDLEYN.
Dere sisters, neuer so welle os nowe!
For I haue hade a sight
For I haue hade a sight
Of my Lorde and master, to my comfurth specialle!
To his Godhed I render thankes immortalle,
Os I am bound of dewtee.
To his Godhed I render thankes immortalle,
Os I am bound of dewtee.
THRID MARYE.
It apperis, suster, by your cowntenaunce,
That the gret sorow is owt of remembraunce,
And so, by your sawe, gret cause haue yee!
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I haue gret cause, sisters, I knaw it welle!
For of my joye he is the springe and welle,
And of my lyfe sustenaunce.
SECUNDE MARYE.
Haue ye seyn our Lord, sister? Ar ye sure?
MAWDLEN.
Sister, I haue seyne my gretist tresure,
My hartly joye and plesaunce!
THRIDE MARY.
A, sister, gret comfert may your hart inflame!
MAWDLEN.
Ȝe, gude sister, he callit me ‘Mary’, by my name,
And spak with me homlye.
I saw hym bodely, in flesh and bloode,
Our Redemere, which for vs hang on the roode;
He shewed hyme gratioslye,
And spak with me homlye.
I saw hym bodely, in flesh and bloode,
Our Redemere, which for vs hang on the roode;
He shewed hyme gratioslye,
And bade me go to his disciples sone,
Thaime to certifye of his resurrectione,
And so wille I shortly doo.
Thaime to certifye of his resurrectione,
And so wille I shortly doo.
SECUND MARIE.
A, A, Mawdleyn, right happee ye were!
Ye spente not in vayn so many bitter tere!
Gret grace is lent yow too!
Tunc venit Jhesus et salutat mulieres istas tres. Tamen mulieres nil dicunt ei, sed procidunt ad pedes eius.
[JHESUS].
Auete! Hayle, blessit women leve!
My blessinge here I youe geve!
Let sorow no more youre harte meve,
But haue comfort allwaye!
I am resene fro deth, so may ye telle;
I haue deliuert my presoners frome helle,
And made tham sure for aye!
[Exit Jhesus.]
MAWDLEYN.
Now, gud sisters, be no more sadd!
Ye haue cause os welle os I to be gladd!
Oure Lorde, loo, of his gudnese,
Of his heghe and Godly excellence,
Haves shewede vs here his joyefulle presence,
With wordes of swetnese!
190
I told youe no lesinge, sisters, report mee!
Ye haue seyn with your eye.
THRID MARY.
Oure spirites ben revivid, our hartes beyn light!
O, Mawdleyn, this was a gloriose sight,
Schewed to vs gracioslye!
SECUND MARYE.
Blessid be that Lorde! Blessit be that Kinge,
That haues comfurth vs thus with his vprisinge,
So sone and glorioslye!
MAWDLEN.
Susters, in joye of this joyfullnese,
A songe of comforte lete vs expresse,
With notes of armonye:
‘Victime paschali laudes immolant Christiani!’
Tunc hee tres cantant idem, id est, ‘Victime pascha«li»’— totum vsque ad ‘Di«c nobis»’ in cantifracto vel saltum in pallinodio. Tunc occurent eis apostoli, scilicet Petrus, Andreas, et Johann«es», cantantes hoc, scilicet: ‘Dic nobis, Maria, quid vidisti in vi«a»?’ Respondent mulieres, cantantes: ‘Sepulcrum Christi viue«ntis»’, et cetera, vsque ad ‘Credendum est’. Apostoli, respondentes, cantant: ‘Credendum est magis soli Marie veraci quam Judeorum turbe fallaci’. Mulieres iterum cantant: ‘Scim«us» Christum surrexisse vere’. Apostoli et mulieres s«imul» cantant quasi concredentes: ‘Tu nobis Christe rex misere«re»’. Amen. Post cantum dicit Petrus.
Sufficit si cantetur eisdem notis et cantibus vt habetur in sequentia predicta.
Petrus dicit post cantum.
[PETER].
How is it now, Marye, can ye telle
Any newes which may lik vs welle?
Blithe is youre countenaunce!
MAWDLEYN.
Peter, in youre mynde be fast and stabille!
I can shew youe tydinges most comfortabille,
Trust it of assurance!
191
Gude Marye, of hym I wold knawlege haue.
MAWDLEYN.
Peter, oure master is resyn from his grave!
He apperit vnto vs three
In fleshe and bone in a gloriose wise!
He hase restorid Adam and his into paradise,
Which were in helles captiuitee!
PETER.
God graunte youre wordes war not in vayn!
MAWDLEN.
Peter, that I saye is trew and certayn,
And therfor dowt no more!
SECUND MARYE.
Brother, we saughe our Lord face to face!
He apperit to vs in this same place,
And bad vs mowrne not so sore!
THRIDE MAR[Y]E.
He bade vs testify and telle
That he was resyn in flesh and felle,
And dy he shalle no more!
PETERE.
A, Mary, gret grace to youe is lent,
To whom our Lord was so content
Befor other tille apere.
MAWDLEN.
He said ye alle shuld see hym in Galilee,
And, Peter, youreselfe expresly namyd hee.
Therfore, be of gud chere!
ANDREWE.
Yit to his sepulcre lat vs go and see,
To satisfye our myndes from alle perplexitee!
PETER.
So cownselle I we doo!
Tunc ibunt. Precurrens, Johannes dicit.
[JOHN].
Brothere Peter, com hither and behold!
It is no fabille that Marye vs hase told!
This thinge is certen, loo!
It is no fabille that Marye vs hase told!
This thinge is certen, loo!
How say ye, brother, be ye satisfied?
PETRUS.
Brothere John, I am fully certifyed
To gife credens hertoo.
Now shalle the suth be verefied
Of hym that most may doo!
O, myche ar we bound, gud Lord, to your highnes!
For vs wer ye born, and also circumcised;
For vs were ye tempid in the wildernese;
Now crucyfied to deth, most shamfully dispised!
Yit alle this, gude Lorde, had vs not sufficyed,
But ye had resen fro deth, by your Godhed gloriuse!
Your resurrection was most necessarye for vs!
To gife credens hertoo.
Now shalle the suth be verefied
Of hym that most may doo!
192
For vs wer ye born, and also circumcised;
For vs were ye tempid in the wildernese;
Now crucyfied to deth, most shamfully dispised!
Yit alle this, gude Lorde, had vs not sufficyed,
But ye had resen fro deth, by your Godhed gloriuse!
Your resurrection was most necessarye for vs!
Youre meknese suffert deth for our saluation,
And now are ye resen for oure justification—
Youre name euer blessit bee!
And now are ye resen for oure justification—
Youre name euer blessit bee!
ANDREWE.
This resurrection to alle þe warld is consolation,
For of oure fayth it is trew consolation,
Approvid by his diuinitee!
JOHANNES EUANGELISTA.
Brether, joy and comfurth and inward jubilation,
And gostly gladnese in vs alle encrease may!
We haue passid the tym of dole and desolation,
And also, I am sure, and right welle dare I saye,
The joyfulle tresure of our hart we salle se þis daye!
Honour, joy, and glory be to hym without end,
Which after sich sorow comfurte can send!
And gostly gladnese in vs alle encrease may!
We haue passid the tym of dole and desolation,
And also, I am sure, and right welle dare I saye,
The joyfulle tresure of our hart we salle se þis daye!
Honour, joy, and glory be to hym without end,
Which after sich sorow comfurte can send!
To laude and prayse hym, lat vs be abowt!
To loue hym, and lofe hym, and lawly hym lowt,
With mynd and mowth devowtlye!
Ther, brethere, with joyfulle harte,
And, devowt sisters, on your parte,
Enton sum ermonye!
To loue hym, and lofe hym, and lawly hym lowt,
With mynd and mowth devowtlye!
Ther, brethere, with joyfulle harte,
And, devowt sisters, on your parte,
Enton sum ermonye!
Tunc cantant omnes simul: ‘Scimus Christum’, vell aliam sequentiam aut ympnum de resurrectione. Post cantum dicit Joh[an]nes, finem faciens.
[JOHANNES].
Loo! Down fro hevyn euermor grace dos springe!
The gudnese of God is incomparabille, yee see!
Her was sorow and mourniynge, lamentacion and wepinge;
Now is joy and gladnese, and of comfurth plentee!
193
Mekly abidinge the inspiration of grace,
Which we belefe
Schalle com to vs this nyght!
Now, farwelle, euery wighte!
We commend yow alle to his myght,
Which for vs suffert grefe!
Explicit.
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