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92

A goodly interlude of Nature compylyd by mayster Henry Medwall, chapleyn to the ryght reverent father in God Johan Morton, somtyme cardynall and archebyshop of Canterbury.

Fyrst cometh in Mundus [The Worlde] and syttyth down and sayth nothynge, and wyth hym Worldly Affeccyon berynge a gown and cap and a gyrdyll for Man.

Than cometh in Nature, Man, Reason, [Sensualyte,] and Innocencye, and Nature syttyth down and sayth:


Nature
Thalmyghty God that made eche creature
As well in heven as other place erthly
By hys wyse ordynaunce hath purveyd me, Nature,
To be as mynyster under hym immedyately
For thencheson that I shold perpetually
Hys creatures in suche degre mayntayne
As yt hath pleased hys grace for theym to ordeyne.
To me yt longeth by naturall engendure
Thyng to contynew that hath spyryte of lyfe,
Whyche ne were my helpe shuld never endure
But sodenly peryshe and wax all caytyfe.
Atwyxt thelementys that whylom were at stryfe
I have swaged the old repugnaunce
And knyt theym togeder in maner of alyaunce.
Eke I have ordeyned the goddys Deane
Lady of the see and every freshe fontayn,
Whyche comenly decreceth whan she gynneth wane
And waxeth abundant whan she creceth agayne.
Of eb and flode she ys cause certayne,
And reyneth as prynces in every yle and town
That wyth the see ys compassed envyron.
I am causer of suche impressyon
As appereth wonderouse to mannys syght,
As of flammes that from the sterry regyon
Semeth to fall in tymes of the nyght:
Some shote sydelong and some down ryght,
Whyche causeth the ignorant to stand in drede
That sterrys do fall—yet falleth there none in dede.
What nedeth yt to speke of thyngys here bylow
As fowles, bestys, and fysshes in theyre kynde?
Of trees, herbys, and stones how they grow,
In whyche men sondry and meny vertuous fynde?
One thyng be ye sure and thynk yt in your mynde:
No maner creature may take on hym the cure
Of these workys but onely I, Nature.

93

And playnly there ys in erthe no maner thynge
That ys not partyner of my influence.
I do provyde for every beste lyvynge
Of naturall foode alway suffycence,
And geve theym also a maner of prudence
Wherby they may naturally ensew
Thyng that ys delectable and thother exchew.
Who taught the cok hys watche howres to observe
And syng of corage wyth shryll throte on hye?
Who taught the pellycan her tender hart to carve
For she nolde suffer her byrdys to dye?
Who taught the nyghtyngall to recorde besyly
Her strange entunys in sylence of the nyght?
Certes I, Nature, and none other wyght.
But yf that I shold clepe to memorye
Eche strange effecte and every great mervayll
That I have caused, I ensure you faythfully
That rather tyme than processe shuld me fayll.
Yt were your payne and to me but travayll
All suche maters as now to bryng in place,
Wherfore I let passe theym tell other tyme and space.
But yf ye covet now to know theffecte
Of thyngys naturall by trew conclusyon,
Counsell with Arystotell my phylosopher electe,
Whyche hath left in bokys of hys tradycyon
How every thyng by hevynly constellacyon
Is brought to effecte, and in what maner wyse,
As far as mannys wytt may naturally compryse.
Wherfore, syth God of hys great largesse
Hath thus enryched me wyth dower of hys grace
And made me as who seyth a wor[l]dly goddesse,
Of duty I can no lesse do in thys case
But wyth hartys joy and entyere solace
My selfe addresse to do hys hygh pleasurs,
And to thys same move all other creaturs.
Enforce you therfore, hys creaturs eche on,
To honour your maker wyth humble obeysance.
Namely thow, Man, I speke to the alone
Byfore all other as chyef of hys creance.
Thynke how he hath made the to hys semblance:
Pluck up thyn harte and hold thyn hed upryght,
And ever more have heven in thy syght.

94

Ovyde, in hys boke cleped The Transformacyon,
Among all other hys fables and poesyes
Maketh specyall mensyon of thy creacyon,
Shewyng how God wonderously gan devyse
Whan he the made and gave to the thempryse
Of all thys world, and feoffed the wyth all
As chyef possessyoner of thyngys mortuall.
In token wherof he gave the upryght vysage
And gave the in commaundement to lyft thyn eye
Up towarde heven, only for that usage
Thow shuldest know hym for thy Lorde almyghty;
All other bestys, as thyngys unworthy,
To behold therth wyth grovelyng countenaunce
And be subdued to thyn obeysaunce.
But as touchyng the cause specyally
Wherfore I have ordeyned the thys nyght to appere,
It ys to put the in knowlege and memorye
To what entent thow art ordeyned to be here.
I let the wyt thou arte a passanger
That hast to do a great and longe vyage,
And through the world most be thy passage.
Addresse thy selfe now towardys thys journay,
For as now thou shalt no lenger here abyde.
Lo here Reason to governe the in thy way,
And Sensualyte upon thyn other syde.
But Reason I depute to be thy chyef gyde,
Wyth Innocencye that ys thy tender noryce,
Evermore to wene the from thappetyte of vyce.

Man
O Lord of Lordes, my Lord God immortuall,
To the be honour and joy ever to endure,
Whose hevenly empyre shall never be fynall
But world wythout end remayne stable and sure,
Whom heven and hell and erthly creature
Wyth one assent and all wyth one accorde
Honoureth, prayseth, and knowlegeth for theyre Lorde.
To the myne hed I humbly inclyne,
Thankyng thy grace that fyrst hast ordeyned me
To be as a syly creature of thyne,
And after that of thy great bownte
Thou hast me set in soverayne degre
And gyven me the profettys of every erthly thynge
As well of frutys as of bestys lyvynge.

95

And that that ys also most precyouse,
Thou hast me enspyred wyth hevenly wysdome
Wherby I may do workys mervaylouse
In every place where soever I come.
Of eche perfeccyon thy grace hath lent me some,
So that I know that creature no where
Of whose vertue I am not partyner.
I have, as hath eche other element
Among other in thys world a comen beyng
Wyth herbys and trees, contynuall noryshement
That ys suffysant to naturall lyvyng.
Wyth sensuall bestys I have a maner of knowyng
Wherby I shuld in good thyngys delyte
And flee the contrary of myne appetyte.
And over all thys thou hast gyven me vertue
Surmountyng all other in hygh perfeccyon,
That ys, understandyng, wherby I may avew
And well dyscerne what ys to be done.
Yet for all that have I fre eleccyon
[To] do what I wyll, be yt evyll or well,
And am put in the hande of myne own counsell.
And in thys poynt I am halfe angelyke,
Unto thy hevenly spyrytys almost egall,
Albeyt in some parte I be to them unlyke:
For they be ordeyned to endure perpetuall,
And I wretched body shall have my funerall
When yt pleaseth thy grace so to provyde—
Man ys not ordeyned alway here to abyde.
Wherfore unto thy soverayne and hygh estate,
Most hevenly Prynce, I make myne oryson:
Syth yt hath pleased thy noble grace algate
That I unworthy of so great renown
In thys world shall have possessyon,
Thou gyve me grace my selfe to enure
As may me profyte and be to thy pleasure.

Nature
God hath herd thy prayer Mankynd, no dout,
In all thy requestys and ryghtfull petycyon.
Now forth thy journay, and loke well about
That thou be not deceyved by fals prodycyon.
Let Reason the governe in every condycyon,
For yf thou do not to hys rule inclyne
Yt wylbe to thy great myschef and ruyne.

96

I wot well Sensualyte ys to the naturall
And graunted to the in thy furst creacyon,
But not wythstandyng, yt ought to be overall
Subdued to Reason and under hys tuycyon.
Thou hast now lybertye and nedest no maynmyssyon,
And yf thou abond the to passyons sensuall,
Farewele thy lybertye—thou shalt wax thrall.

Sensualyte
What, lady Nature? Have I none intresse
As well as Reason or Innocency?
Thynke ye thys, lady, a good processe,
That they are avaunced and I let go by?
Ye knowe ryght well that I ought naturally
Byfore all other to have of hym the cure—
I am the chyef perfeccyon of hys nature.
Alas, what coulde the sely body do,
Or how sholde yt lyve, ne were the helpe of me?
Certes yt could not well crepe nor go!
At the lest wyse yt shuld neyther fele, here, nor se,
But be as other incensate bodys be—
In mouche wurs case than wormes of the grownde
In whyche unneth any tokyn of lyfe ys founde.
Me semeth yt shuld abhorr hym for to here
That I destrayned shuld be in any wyse,
Standynge that I was create to be hys fere,
Of all hys guydyng to take thenterpryse.
And now ye put me out of hys servyce
And have assygned Reason to be hys guyde,
Wyth Innocencye hys noryse—thus am I set asyde!
Ye clepe hym lorde of all bestys lyvynge,
And nothyng worthy as far as I can se.
For yf there be in hym no maner of felynge
Ne no lyvely quyknes, what lorde ys he?
A lorde made of clowtys or karved out of tre,
And fareth as an ymage graved out of stone
That nothyng ellys can do but stande alone.
If ye intend hym to contynew longe
In honour or worldly felycyte,
He most nedys folow hys apetyte amonge
And conferme hym selfe to the more parte.
I tell you, men wyll have no deynte
To do servyce or homage to a block—
All the world wyll thynk yt but a mock!

97

Suffer me therfore to have wyth hym a rome
And to be wyth hym as chyef counseyll[er],
And yf he do so I thynk to dome
He shall reygn in the world as chyef governer.
But yf Reason tykyll hym in the ere
Or bere hym on hand the kow is wood,
He shall never be able to do erthly good.

Nature
My frend, as I sayd to you byfore,
A rome shall ye have—no man sayth nay.
But Reason must be preferred evermore,
For he can best lede hym to the way
Of vertue and grace wherby he may
Longest contynue to Goddys hygh pleasure
To the whych end God hath ordeyned this hys creature.
Content thy selfe now wyth Reason, my frend,
And medyll the no further than thou hast to do.
Thou hast brought many a man to a wrecched end
And so thou woldyst spyll hys creature also.
But what so ever he say, take no hede therto
[To Man.]
Wythout that Reason wyll alow the same,
For who so doth the contrary deserveth myche blame.
God and I, Nature, have set the in better case
Than any creature under the fyrmament.
Abuse not, Man, abuse not thy grace
Of God almyghty that from above ys sent!
Thou shalt be the fyrst that shall repent
If ever thou fle Reason and sue Foly
Whan onys thou felest the smert of mysery.
But be of confort: hardely God shall send
Both gostly ayd and worldly helpe also,
And I shall never fayll unto thy lyfys end
To mynyster unto the as me oweth to do.
Lo yender the World whyche thou must nedys to!
Now shape the thyder, there ys no more to say.
Thy Lord and myne guyde the in thy way.

Then Nature goeth out.
Sensualyte
Well lady Nature, leve ye me in thys case?
Shall I have of you none other confort?
By Cryst, yet wyll I not hyde my face,
For as sone as we shall to the World resort
I put no doubt he wyll me support!
He hath ben my good mayster meny a day
And he wyll not se me thus cast away!


98

Reason
Sobur thy selfe, man, I advyse the hardely.
Be not so passyonate ne y[e]t so furyouse!
Thou turmentyst thy selfe and wotyst not why.
No well advysed body wyll demean hym thus!
Be sure, thy mynde is all erronyous:
Thou takyst a selfe-well and wrong opynyon
Whyche shalbe thyn and others confusyon.

Sensualyte
Ye, Reason, syr, ye speke lyke a noble man,
But yet are ye take wyth a poynt of oversyght.
What? Wold ye make me stand as a lordan
And not speke one word for myne own ryght?
I se yt well that yf your lordshyp myght
By meanes possyble onys bryng yt about,
Your selfe shuld be a ruler and I but a cast owt.

Reason
A rular? Certes, and so I owght to be,
And a lord also, though ye say yt in scorne.

Sensualyte
A lord? Whose lord?

Reason
Thy lord.

Sensualyte
Nay, so mote I the,
Thou lyest! Yt may no lengar be forborne.
Thou camyst but tonyght and mayst hap go tomorne,
For yf thou be as haute as thou begynnest
Thou shalt avoyd myche sonar than thou wennyst!

Reason
As for myne avoydaunce, how sone so ever yt be,
It shall not skyll as for thys intent.
But he that fyrst fleeth or forsaketh me,
He shall have gretest occasyon to repent.
It shalbe to hys great trouble and turment
That he hath left Reason and suyd hys own foly
And therby ys fallen to wreched penury.
But now as touchyng the honour and degre
That I am ordeyned to, I wyll thou understand
That almyghty God of hys grace and bountye
Of the and suche hath gyven me the over hand,
And wyll that I use the as a servand
To advyse the and reforme the whan thou gynst to erre
And to clepe the homward yf thou rayll to far.
And where thou sayst thou art so necessary
That man wythout the can have no lyvyng,
As in that poynt we shall not myche vary.
I wote thou art necessary to hys beyng,
But be thou sure, that ys not the very thyng
That maketh hym to appere so wonderouse
And to be in hys nature so noble and precyouse.

99

It ys a thyng that doth ryght far excede
All other perfeccyons and vertuouse naturall,
For Sensualyte in very dede
Is but a meane whyche causeth hym to fall
Into moche foly and maketh hym bestyall
So that there ys no dyfference in that at the lest
Bytwyxt man and an unresonable best.
But this other cometh of great tenderaunce
And spyrytuall love that God oweth to mankynde,
Whom he hath create to hys owne semblaunce
And endued wyth a wonderouse mynde
Wherby he may well dyscerne and fynde
Suffysant dyfference bytwyxt good and bad,
Whyche ys to be left and whyche ys to be had.
Lo, thys ys yt that doth hym dygnyfye
And causeth hym to be reputed so excellent.
And of all thys the chyef doar am I,
Whyche from heven into erth by God am sent
Only for that cause and fynall intent
That I shuld thys hys creature demean and guyd
For the season that he doth in thys world abyde.
Now compare thy vertues and myne togeder
And say whyche ys the wurthyar of theym to.

Sensualyte
Whyche ys the worthyar? Forsoth, I trow neyther!
We be good felowys!

Reason
Nay, my frend, not so!
Thou ought to obey me where so ever I go.

Sensualyte
Nay, that shall I never do for to dye:
I shall thy felow be, loke thou never so hye!
And therfore, hardely, be somwhat felowlyke!
Leve thyn hawt conceytys and take a metely way.
For shame of the world, man, let us not styk
At a mater of ryght noght and travers here all day.
Have me in few wordys, man, and hark what I say:
Medyll thou in no poynt that belongeth to me,
And I shall promyse the never to medyll wyth the.
And standyng the nonage of thys gentylman,
On my parell take no care therfore.
I shall demean yt as well as I can
Tyll he be passyd forty yerys and more,
And, Reason, then yf ye wyll, undershore
Hys croked old age when lusty youth ys spent;
Than take uppon you. I hold me content,

100

For trust ye me the very trouth ys thys:
Thys Man ys put in hys owne lybertye,
And certaynly the fre choyce ys hys
Wheder he wyll be governed by the or by me.
Let us therfore put yt to hys owne jeopardye
And therin stande to hys arbytrement
To whyche of us twayne he had lever assent.

Reason
Nay, syr, not so! I know hys fraylte:
The body ys dysposed for to fall
Rather to the worse than the better parte
But yt be holpen by power supernall.

Sensualyte
Yet, Reason, whan thou hast sayd all,
Yf thou se hym not take hys owne way,
Call me cut when thou metest me a nother day.

Reason
For cartayne, yet accordyng to myne offyce
I must advertyse and counsell hym at the lest
To hawnt vertue and schew all vyce
And therin assyst hym to the uttermest.
And yf he wyll algatys be a best
And take none hede to my lore and doctryne,
The parell and hurt shalbe hys and not myne.

Innocencye
Syrs, I shall answere for thys man as yet
That he ys mayden for all suche foly
As shold dystayne nature or dyshonour yt,
Brought up wyth me full well and tenderly.
Wherfore I dare the surelyar testyfye
For innocencye that he ys yet vyrgyn
Both for dede and eke consent of syn.
And lengar wyll not I be of hys acquayntaunce
Than he ys vertuouse and of good lyvyng,
For fleshly lust and worldly plesaunce
Ys wyth Innocencye nothyng accordyng.
But yf hys behavyour and dayly demeanyng
Be of suche draught as Reason wyll alow,
I shall hym favour and love as I do now.

Sensualyte
Well spoken and wysely! Now, have ye all done?
Or have ye ought ellys to thys man to say?

Reason
O syr, ye!

Sensualyte
Pece, no more of thys dysputacyon!
Here be many fantasyes to dryve forth the day—
That one chatreth lyke a pye, that other lyke a jay.
And yet, whan they both have done what they can,
Maugry theyr teeth I shall rule the man.


101

Man
O blessyd Lord, what maner stryf ys thys
Atwyxt my Reason and Sensualyte?
That one meneth well and that other all amysse.
In one ys sekernes and in tother great fraylte,
And both they be so annexed to me
That nedes I must wyth one of theym abyde!
Lorde, as thou thynkyst best, for me do provyde!
For I am wonderously entryked in thys case
And almost brought into perplexyte,
Notwythstandyng, thanked be thy grace,
As I dyd never assent ne aggre
To thynge that sholde be contraryouse unto the—
Of synfull ded and thought all innocent,
Subduyd to Reason as hys obedyent.

Reason
Cryst graunt you therin good contynuaunce
To be ever of the same mynde and intent!
But now wyll ye call to your remembraunce
For what cause ye be hyder sent?
I hold yt well done and ryght expedyent
That ye were brough[t] unto the Worldys presence.

Man
Be yt so! In Goddys name, I pray you, go we hens.

Reason
And wyll ye that I shall for you declare
Unto the World the cause of your comyng,
What ys your intent, and what parson ye are?

Man
Ye, I wold be glad that every thyng
Be done even after your devysyng.

Sensualyte
Shall I than stand as I were tong tyde?

Man
Ye, hardely, tyll Reason have sayd.

Reason
Syr World, yt ys the mynde and also pleasure
Of lady Nature, as she bad us to you tell,
That ye accept and receyve thys her creature
Wyth you for a season here to dwell,
Desyryng you hartely to entreat hym well
Wyth all the favour that ye can devyse,
Wherin ye shall do her great pleasure and servyce.

The Worlde
Syrs, ye be welcome to us hartely!
Your message ys to us ryght acceptable.
Be ye assured there ys nothyng erthly
To us so joyfull ne yet so delectable
As to be acquaynted wyth parsons honorable,
Namely souch as ye seme to be,
Men of hygh honour and of great dygnyte.

102

And as touchyng the message that ye have brought,
[We] have therof the full mynde and intent,
Assuryng you that our bysy thought
Shalbe to do dame Naturys commaundement.
And thereunto we wyll be dylygent
To do her pleasurys in that we may,
And so we wold ye shold to her say.
And w[h]ere ye shew unto me that thys Man
Is ordeyned to reygne here in thys empry,
I assent well, for or Nature began
To shape the world, she thought fynally
To ordeyne Man therin to occupy,
He to take uppon hym as myghty governer,
Havyng all thyng subdued to hys power.
Wherfore I receyve gretly hys comyng.
Mankynde syr, hartely welcom ye be!
Ye are the parsone, wythout faynyng,
That I have evermore desyred to se.
Come let me kys you! O benedycyte,
Ye be all naked! Alas Man, why thus,
I make you sure, yt ys ryght perylous!

Man
I thanke you, but I nede none other vesture.
Nature hath clothed me as yet suffysantly:
Gyltles of syn, and as a mayden pure,
I were on me the garment of Innocencye.

Innocencye
Ye hardely, were that garment contynually!
It shall thy body suffysantly savegard
From stormy weder, my lyfe to jeopard!

The Worlde
Be pece, fayre woman! Ye ar not very wyse.
Care ye not yf thys body take cold?
Ye must consyder thys ys not paradyse,
Ne yet so temporate by a thowsand fold!
Who so lyveth here, be he yong or old,
He must suffer both fervent cold and hete
And be out of temperaunce oft tyme in hys dyet.
Also he must nedys do as the Worlde doth
That intendeth any whyle here to reygne,
And folow the gyse that now a day goth
As far as hys estate may yt mayntayne.
And who doth the contrary—I wyll be playne—
He ys abyect and dyspysed utterly
And standeth ever baneshed from all good company.

103

Syth God therfore had ordeyned thys body
To dwell here in thys erthly regyon,
Of convenyence he must hym selfe apply
To worldly thyngys and be of suche condycyon
As all men be, and leve eche fond opynyon
That ys not approvable of wysar men than he:
To take suche way yt ys but vanyte!
[The Worlde rises to give Man the robe, cap, and girdle.]
Take thys garment, Man; do as I you byd!
Be not ashamed, hardely, to do yt on.
So lo, now thys gurdell, have gurd yt in the myd,
And thys for your hed go set yt uppon.
By the charge of me, you be a goodly on
As ever I saw syth that I was borne,
Worth a thowsand that ye were beforne!
Gyve me your hand—be not in fere!
Syt down as ye ar borne to occupye thys place.
[Man sits in the Worlde's throne.]
I gyve you here auctoryte and power
Over all thynge that conceyved ys in the space
Of all the erth that rownd ys in compace,
To be as lord of every regyon,
And therof I gyve you pessyble possessyon.

Man
Blessyd be thou my lord most bounteouse,
That of thy great abundant cheryte
Me thy wretched creature hast honoured thus
Wyth naturall gyftys and worldly dygnyte.
Now I beseke the, for thy great pyte,
Syth thou hast set me in so noble way,
Suffer me not hereafter wrechedly to decay.
For certes, yt ys myne hartys desyre
So to demayn me in thys lyfe present
As may be most unto thy pleasure
And unto Nature not dysconvenyent.
Thys ys my wyll and my chyef intent,
Thys wyll I observe—thy grace to borow—
Though I therfore suffer mouche worldly sorow.


104

Reason
Forsoth, these wordys be gretly to alow
Yf they from meke and lowly hart procede.
Now Mankynde, syth thou hast made thys vow,
Shape the therafter thy lyfe to lede,
And let thy word be cousyn to thy dede:
That ys to say, do thou none other wyse
Than thou here openly to God dost promyse.

Innocencye
Ye syr, and ever loke that ye abstayne
Not onely from dede but also from the assent,
So that ye commyt neyther of theym twayn
Yf ye wyll observe the hygh commaundement.
For surely ye may not be cleped innocent
Nor gyltles of syn, as far as I can fynde,
Yf onys ye assent to folly in your mynde.

The Worlde
Thys ys an harde word, syster, that ye have spoken,
An hard worde surely and an hevy sentence.
But thynk ye Goddys commaundement broken
For a lyght tryfull and mater of insolence?
Alas, have ye suche a spyced conscyence
That wyll be entryked wyth every mery thought?
Leve yt woman, leve yt, for yt ys nought.
Loquitur ad hominem.
And Man, as for you, ye shall not take that way—
That maner of observaunce ys to hard and strayte.
Ye must attempte the world and therin assay
Whether ye can lyve after that endrayte.
These two folk harp both on refrayte
And ever enbesyeth theym to rebuke you of syn
That never was spotted ne fownd gylty therin.
Take none hede of theym—theyre wordys be but wynde,
And as for thys tyme I commaunde theym to sylence!
And let us se now how prately ye can fynde
By sage polycy and worldly prudence
To mayntayne the state in honour and reverence
That ye shall be in whyle ye in the world dwell.
Speke of thys mater and ponder yt well.
Fyrst me semeth necessary to provyde
What maner folkys your sarvauntys shall be,
For surely ye ar nothyng accompanyde
Accordyng to a man of your degre!
Ye have here wyth you two parsons or thre
That pleaseth you happely in the best wyse,
Yet yt appereth not so to every mannys [gyse].

105

What man ys thys?

Man
Reason, syr, my chyef conselour,
And thys Innocency my noryce hyderto,
And Sensualyte that other by whom I have power
To do as all sensate bestys do.
But Reason and Innocency, chyefly these two,
Have the hole rule and governy of me,
To whom eke ys subdued my Sensualyte.

Sensualyte
For cartayne syr, Reason hath done me wrong
More than ever he shalbe able to recompense.
God knoweth syr, I thought the season very long
Tyll we were brought unto your presence.
But now I pray you to adnull the sentence
That Nature gave unto me by Reasons advyse
To my great hurt and uttyr prejudyce.
And syr, I aske none amendys erthly
But that Reason may have a chek mate,
A lytell knack, a lytell prayty congy
Hys haut corage some thynge to abate.
For hyderto he hath kept great estate
And had of me the over hande and strengar:
Be ye not dyspleased—I wyll suffer yt no lengar.

The Worlde
Thou hast had great wrong and that ys pyte,
For yf thou be the parson that I take the fore,
Thou sholdyst be as honorable as he.

Sensualyte
Lord ye say well, but wold God ye wold se
Some maner helpe and remedy for thys evyll
And let me not alway lyve thys lyke a dryvyll!

The Worlde
Syr, ye know well that yf so yt were
[To Man.]
A man shold sodenly come to a straunge place
Wherin he ys but alyand and straunger,
He must nedys be compelled in that case
To put hym selfe in the favour and grace
Of some syngler person that can shew hym the way
Of all the behavour and gyse in that contray.
So yt ys now that ye be hyder sent,
Thys contray as yet to you unknowen.
In myne opynyon yt ys expedyent
To take some other counsell than your awne
Of well enured men suche as have growne
In worldly experyence and have therof the dryft
And can best for you in tyme of nede skyft.


106

Man
Certes ye move ryght well and prudently,
And I am well content that yt so be.
But as yet have I not the polycy
To know whyche men have most abylyte.

The Worlde
Dare ye commyt the mater unto me?

Man
Ye syr, ryght well. I am fully content
That all thynge be done by your assygnement.

The Worlde
Than thus I wyll: that above all thyng
From hens forward ye be lyke and conformable
Unto other parsones in all your demeanyng,
Namely to suche as be companable,
Be they never so vycyouse or abhomynable.
For every man clepyth hym wyse
That doth after the comen gyse.
And as for men that shold do you servyce,
I know dyvers persones that be ryght honorable
That can you serve alway poynt devyce:
In all the worlde be there none so able,
So wyse, so polytyke, ne yet so profytable.
Lo here ys one of theym that I speke fore,
And he hym selfe can tell you where ye shall have more.
Worldly Affeccyon ys thys mannys name.
He ys well brayned and wonderous of invencyon,
A forecastyng man and, payne of shame,
Ye shall not fynde in any Crysten regyon
A wyser felow in thyngys to be done,
Specyally of maters that be concernyng
Worldly pleasure that ys for you accordyng.
Suffer hym therfore never to departe
But yf yt be for maters of great substaunce.
And for Sensualyte, I pray you wyth all my harte
To accept hym to your favour and tendraunce:
He hath ben longe of myne acquayntaunce
And, on my fayth, my harte can not but grudge
To thynke that ye shold use hym as a drudge.
Do as he advyseth you hardely, now and than,
And dyspyse not utterly hys counsell.
Thynke that ye be here a worldly man
And must do as men that in the world dwell.
Ye ar not bounde to lyve lyke an aungell
Ne to be as God alway immutable—
Mannys nature of hym selfe ys full myserable.

107

I have tolde you now my counsell and advyse
And ye have promysed to be ruled therby.
Now let eche man execute hys offyce
And se how wysely ye can theym occupy
To encreace the world, and yt therto ye must apply.
Now addresse you therto and demeane you thus—
I shalbe to you ever good and prosperouse.

Man
Syr, I thank you of thys curtesy,
Undeserved as yet, but be ye sure
I shall my selfe endevour bysyly
To do that may be to your pleasure.
And for the season that I shall her[e] endure,
I shall theym cheryce and to my power mayntayne
That unto you in any wyse do partayne.

The Worlde
Than to bygyn wyth all, I wyll advyse you
To put thys man from your company.
I tell you, every man wyll despyse you
As long as ye be ruled by Innocency.
To folow suche counsell yt ys but foly,
For he can neyther good neyther evyll,
And therfore he ys taken but for a dryvyll.

Man
By my fayth, evyn as ye say
It lyketh me not ryght well
Wyth Innocency longe to dwell.
Therfore, accordyng to your counsell,
I wyll not after thys day
Wyth hys company my selfe affere
As mewet as yt were a Gray Frere!
I suppose there ys no man here
What soever he be
That could in hys mynde be content
Allwayes to be called an innocent.
Wherfore yt ys myne intent
To do as ye advyse me.

The Worlde
Ye hardely, do evyn so.

Innocencye
Forsoth, and I hold me well content
To departe at your commaundement.
Ye shall fynde me obedyent
What soever ye byd me do.

Here Innocencye goeth out. [Reason withdraws.]
Sensualyte
So, the company ys well amend!
Let hym go to the devyll of hell!
He ys but a boy, I warn you well,
And shuld ye folow hys counsell
Allmyghty God defend!

108

Yf ever ye lust to play the man,
It ys tyme that ye now bygan,
Mary, to play the boy now and than
For your dysport and solace!
It forceth not though ye do
Whan ye may have leyser therto,
And among I wyll helpe you also
In due tyme and place.

The Worlde
Ye, that ye wyll in dede!
But now syr, wyll ye any thyng
Commaund me byfore my departyng?

Man
Nothyng at all, to my wetyng,
But our Lord have you in hys kypyng
And send you well to spede.
[The Worlde goes out.]
Worldly Affeccyon, come hyder: ye are polytyke
And myche better enured in thys world than I.
I pray you dyspose for me as ye thynk most lyke
That I may lyve here well and honorably.

Worldly Affeccyon
Ye syr, I shall. Dout ye not, hardely,
Yf yt lyke you to put me in so great trust,
And I trow ye shall fynde me trew and just.

Man
I wote well I shall. Surely you be bound
To the World that hath gyven you so great commendacyon.

Worldly Affeccyon
Ye syr, some men had lever than a thowsand pound
They myght be commended of the same fassyon!
But syr, let passe all thys commendacyon
And answere to me, I pray you, frutefully
In that I shall meve you substancyally.
Syr, at few wordys I you exhorte:
Syth that ye be come to your own,
Cast your selfe to bere suche a porte
That as ye be ye may be knowen.
Eke yt ys necessary for that behove
That there be made some maner of purvyaunce
Wherby ye may bere out your countenaunce.
Wyll yt lyke you therfore that I survey
And se thextent of all your land
And thereuppon in all the hast purvey
Both for you and yours all maner of vyand,
Wyth other utensyllys redy at your hand,
So that ye be purveyd all tymes erely and late
Of eche thyng that belongeth to your estate?


109

Man
Your counsell ys good—do as ye thynk best!
I commyt all suche thyng to your dyscrecyon.

Worldly Affeccyon
I shall do my trew bysynes at the lest
To bryng all thyngys to good conclusyon.

[Worldly Affeccyon offers to go out
Man
Abyde, Worldly Affeccyon! Ye made no mencyon
Who shuld awayt and gyve attendaunce.
I must have mo servauntys what so ever chaunce!

Worldly Affeccyon
What? Ye have Sensualyte—ax never other counsell.
Of suche mater he can you best advyse.
He knoweth where all suche maner parsons dwell
As be moste apte to do you worldly sarvyce.

Then he goeth out.
Sensualyte
Ye, on my parell syr, I shall take the enterpryse
Of all suche maters, and loke where I fynde
Any man of pleasure, on hym set your mynde!
Lo, wyll ye se? Lo, here cometh one—
Even the last man that was in my thought.

Man
What ys he?

Sensualyte
Ye shall se anon:
A well drawen man ys he, and a well taught,
That wyll not gyve hys hed for nought,
And therto goodly as ye shall se in a day,
As well apparelyd at eche poynt of hys aray.

Pryde co[meth in, with Garcius.]
Pryde
Who dwelleth here? Wyll no man speke?
Is there no fole nor hody peke?
Now by the bell, yt were almys to breke
Some of these knaves brows!
A gentylman comys in at the dorys
That all hys dayes hath worn gylt sporys,
And none of thys knaves nor cutted horys
Byddys hym welcom to house.
Wote ye not how great a lord I am,
Of how noble progeny I cam?—
My fader a knyght, my moder callyd madame,
Myne aunceters great estatys?
And now the lyvelod ys to me fall
By both theyre dethes naturall.
I am spoken of more than they all
Hens to Parys gatys.

110

How say ye, syrs, by myne aray?
Doth yt please you? Ye or nay?
In the best wyse, I dare well say,
By that ye knowe me a whyle!
And one thyng I put you out of dout:
I have wherwyth to bere yt out
As well as any man here about
Wythin these hundreth myle.
Behold the bonet uppon my hed:
A staryng colour of scarlet red—
I promyse you, a fyne threde
And a soft wull!
It cost me a noble at one pyche!
The scald capper sware sythyche
That yt cost hym even as myche—
But there Pryde had a pull.
I love yt well to have syde here
Halfe a fote byneth myne ere,
For ever more I stande in fere
That myne nek shold take cold!
I knyt yt up all the nyght
And the day tyme kemb yt down ryght,
And then yt cryspeth and shyneth as bryght
As any pyrled gold.
My doublet ys onlaced byfore,
A stomacher of saten and no more.
Rayn yt snow yt never so sore,
Me thynketh I am to hote!
Than have I suche a short gown
Wyth wyde sleves that hang adown—
They wold make some lad in thys town
A doublet and a cote.
Som men wold thynk that this were pryde,
But yt ys not so! Ho, ho, abyde!
I have a dagger by my syde—
Yet therof spake not I.
I bought thys dagger at the marte,
A sharp poynt and a tarte:
He that had yt in hys hart
Were as good to dye.
Than have I a sworde or twayn!
To bere theym my selfe yt were a payne:
They ar so hevy that I am fayne
To purvey suche a lad—
Though I say yt, a praty boy!
It ys halfe my lyves joy!
He maketh me laugh wyth many a toy,
The urchyn ys so mad.

111

I begate the horson in bast:
It was done all in hast!
Ye may se there was no wast—
He occupyed no great place!
Sometyme he serveth me at borde,
Somtyme he bereth my two hand sword.
Com forth thou lytell lyk-tord—
Loke in thy faders face!
But now to do that I com fore,
And of these thyngys to speke no more.
Hark syrs, me longeth sore
To here some newelte.
I here say there ys a great state
Com into thys contray late
And ys dysposed algate
An housholder to be.
Fathers soule syrs! Ye shall understand
That yf he kepe houshold in thys land
I wyll threst in one hand
Who so ever say nay.
What so ever the man intend—
To appayre the world or to amend—
I wylbe wyth hym at that one end,
Hap what hap may.
I mete Worldly Affeccyon ere wyle
From thys town skant a myle,
And he hath shewed me a praty whyle
If I may put yt in ure:
He tellys me that Sensualyte
Begynnys a great rular to be,
And yf yt be so, care not for me—
The mater ys cok sure.
[Notices Man.]
Ey good Lord, what man ys that?
Fathers soule, thys ys some great wat!

Garcius
Thys ys he that ye seeke.

Pryde
Se thys brat?
Thys boy ys passyng taunte!
Com behynd and folow me—
Set out the better leg I warne the!

Garcius
Yes, in the best wyse, trust ye me.
Ale seygniour, ale vouse avant!


112

Pryde
Saluys to you syr.

Man
And to you also.
Whens are ye?

Pryde
I shall tell you or I go,
But fyrst wold I speke a worde and no mo
Wyth thys sarvant of yours.

Sensualyte
Wyth me syr? Wolde ye speke wyth me?

Pryde
Ye, for God! Are ye not Sensualyte?

Sensualyte
Yes, surely.

Pryde
Ye, such a gentylman ye seme to be.

Sensualyte
Your pore sarvaunt at all howris!

Then Pryde speketh to Sensualyte in hys ere that all may here:
Pryde

Syr, I understand that this gentylman is borne to great
fortunes and intendeth to inhabyt here in the contray.
And I am a gentylman that alway hath be brought up
wyth great estatys and affeed wyth them, and yf I
myght be in lyke favour wyth this gentylman, I wold
be glad therof and do you a pleasure.


Sensualyte
Where ys your dwellynge?

Pryde
I dwell herby.

Sensualyte
What ys your name?

Pryde
Pryde.

Sensualyte
Pryde?

Pryde
Ye, sykerly,
But I am cleped Worshyp comenly
In placys where I dwell.

Sensualyte
Worshyp? Now in fayth, ye say trew:
Ye be radix viciorum—rote of all vertew.

Pryde
Ye, ye, man! Ye wolde say so yf ye me knew.

Sensualyte
Turd! I know you well!
[Aside.]
Syr, ye are welcom as I may say!
I shall bryng you in servyce yf I may
And yf one man stand not in the way.

Pryde
One man? What the devyll ys he?

Sensualyte
By God, one that loveth not the
Nor me neyther.

Pryde
I pray the tell me
What maner of man he ys
And I shall gyve hym a lyft as I gesse!

Sensualyte
Wylt thou so, doubtlesse?

Pryde
Ye, and that wythin a short processe:
In fayth, I wyll not mysse!


113

Sensualyte
Surely I can not spy the wayes how!

Pryde
Let me alone, I shall do well ynow!
Aquaynt me wyth that man, and care not thou—
The mater shall spede.

Sensualyte
Hark, cosyn: fyrst spede thys mater,
And yf yender man make the not good chere
As ony man that ever cam here,
Let me therfore be dede.

Pryde
Syr, I shall tell the how: whan I am in
To thy maysters servyce, I wyll fyrst begyn
To set hys hart on a mery pyn
And byd hym make good chere.
I wyll byd hym thynk how he ys create
To be a worthy potestate
And eke that he ys predestynate
To be a prynces pere,
And other thyngys more than thys:
I shall bryng that hart of hys
To be more howt than yt ys
By a dewys-ase!
Specyally I wyll commend hys wyt
That no man can amend yt,
And that he ys able therby to syt
As a juge in Comen Place.
And when I prayse hym thys wyse,
I thynke hys hart wyll begyn to ryse
And after that utterly despyse
Any opray counsell to here.
He shall trust all to hys own brayne
And than, wold Reason never so fayne,
Though he come and suche opry twayn,
He shalbe never the nere!

Sensualyte
Surely thys conseyt ys well found.
I shall bryng the in servyce for twaynty pound!

Pryde
Gramercy brother, I thynk me mych bound
To the for thy curtesy.
But syr, abyde here on thyng:
I wyll not be knowen that yt ys my sekyng!

Sensualyte
No more wold I, for forty shelyng.
Let me alone hardely!

114

Syr, yf yt please you, here ys come a straunger
[To Man.]
That never was aquaynted wyth you ere,
Somwhat shamefast and halfe in fere
To put hym selfe in prese:
A goodly parsone, be ye sure,
Both of countenaunce and of feature
If he were drawn in portrayture,
And a good man doubtles—
Ye, and a wyse man at all!
Wyll yt please you that I hym call
To speke wyth you?

Man
Byd hym com.

Sensualyte
I shall.
Syr, wyll ye come nere?
[To Pryde.]
Syr, byd hym welcome for the maner sake.
[To Man.]
Another day I am sure he wyll crake
And say suche a gentylman dyd hym make
Very great chere!
Desyre hym for to dwell wyth you—
I tell you he ys a man for your prow
And knoweth the world well inow,
No man better than he.

Man
Syr, ye be welcom to thys place.

Pryde
I thanke you syr, but I do you trespace
To come thus homly.

Sensualyte
Ye, a parlous case!
[To Pryde.]
God wote, ye are welcom heder!
On my fayth, by my wyll
Ye shall dwell wyth us styll.
Go nere to hym and talk your fyll—
I leve you togeder.

He goeth forth.
Man
Now syr, what have ye to say to me?

Pryde
No great thyng syr, but I come to se
And to know what maner man ye be
That all men prayseth so mouche!

Man
Prayse? Whom prayse they?

Pryde
Mary, you.

Man
Me?

Pryde
Ye syr, I make myne avow!
They gyve you a praysyng good inow—
I harde never none suche.
And surely, ye be ryght wurthy—
I se well now they do not ly!
And therefore I dyd me hyder hy
To acquaynt me wyth you.

115

But ye may say that I am bold!

Man
Nay, ye ar worth thy weyght of gold.
Me thenketh me to you myche behold!
I pray you, what ys your name?

Pryde
My name ys Wurshyp.

Man
Wurshyp? Now surely,
The World told me yt was my destyny
To come to Wurshyp or I dye.

Pryde
Truly, I am the same.

Man
Now Wurshyp, I pray you me tell
Your wysedom and also counsell:
Ye can advertyse me passyng well
In thyngys that I have to do.

Pryde
In good fayth, any thyng that I
May do to your pleasure, yt ys redy.
I am your own and pray you hartely
That ye accept me so.
But where ye aske counsell of me,
Me semeth ye save not your honeste.

Man
Myne honesty? Wherfore let se?
I pray you shew me why!

Pryde
Mary syr, for yt ys ryght syttyng
That a man of your behavyng
Shuld have alway suffycyent conyng
Of worldly wyt and polycy
To guyde hym selfe every where,
And not to be led by the ere
And beg wyt here and there
Of every jak-a-pye.
Ye are well complexyond be ye sure,
And Nature hath done on you here cure
As myche as upon any creature
That ever I saw wyth myne eye.
And by lykelyhod syr, iwys,
Ye have wyt accordyng to all thys,
Or ellys Nature hath wrought amysse,
And that ys not lykely!

Man
Now certayne, thanked be heven Kyng,
I have a ryght quyk understandyng:
If ye shew me any thyng
I can sone perceyve yt.
But I was forbyd by Reason
On myne own fantasye to ron
Or to take any presumpcyon
Of myne own wyt.


116

Pryde
Sayd Reason so? Mary, fy on him knave!
Yt were better the hangman where in his grave
Than ever the lewd fole shold have
The governaunce of you!

Man
Certayn, Nature advysed me
To folow Reason what tyme that she
Put me fyrst in auctoryte
That I stand in now.

Pryde
Alas, alas, Man, ye be mad!
I se well ye be but a very lad!
On my fayth, I was very glad
Of your fyrst acquayntaunce,
And now I forthynk yt utterly—
That ever I knew you, fy, fy, fy!
I hard never certaynly
Of suche a nother chaunce.
Wyll ye draw to that felyshyp?
I wold ye had thre strypes wyth a whyp
Even upon the bare hyp,
If I shuld you not greve.
He that wold lordshyp enjoy
And playe ever styll the old boy,
Me semeth he doth but make a toy
And ye wyll me beleve.

Man
Wurshyp, for Goddys sake greve ye not!

Pryde
Iwys, ye ar but an ydeot.
I pray you syr, make not me a sot.
I am no tryfler!
I have bene in honour here to forne!
Ye alow the counsell of a karle borne
Byfore myne: I have yt in scorne,
It ys a thyng I can not bere.

Man
Whom meane ye? Reason?

Pryde
Ye, that same daw!

Man
What? Ys he a wyse man?

Pryde
He ys a straw!
Bycause he kepys you under aw,
Ye be therin blynd!

Man
And so doth he, wythout faynyng!
For hyderto I myght do nothyng
But after hys wyll and byddyng,
And that groged my mynde.


117

Pryde
Grouge, quod a? Yt ys no marvell, hardely!
It shall greve me certaynly
As longe as I am in your cumpany
To se you demeaned in that wyse.
Ye be now in good way,
But in fayth I lyke not your aray:
It ys not the fassyon that goth now a day,
For now there ys a new guyse!
It ys now two dayes agon
Syth that men bygan thys fassyon,
And every knave had yt anon!
Therfore, at thys season
There ys no man that setteth thereby
If he love hys own honesty.

Man
So me semeth, certaynly,
That every man ys fressher than I,
And iwys, that ys no reason.

Here cometh in Worldly Affeccyon and Sensualyte.
Sensualyte
Reason, quod a? No, no!
But syr, wote ye what ye shall do?
Hardely, let us two go
To some tavern here bysyde—
Com on, I can bryng you there—
And let theym alone wyth all thys gere.
Care ye nothyng for the mater,
But let theym here abyde!
And ye wyll suffer and let theym alone,
Ye shall se them devyse you a new fassyon
That all the world shall wonder theron.

Man
By God, that wyll I do goodly.
But I pray you syrs, do your dylygence
For thys aray and spare none expence,
And for a whyle I wyll go hens
And come agayne shortly.

Here Man and Sensualyte go out.
Worldly Affeccyon
Brother Pryde, now the weyght
Of all thys mater resteth in the.

Pryde
Tushe! Thou shalt se me devyse it even streyght—
It ys but japes that gere wyth me!
I have none other study a dayes parde
But how I may new fassyons fynde,
And theron I set all my labour and mynde.

118

Syr, our mayster shall have a gown
That all the galandys in thys town
Shall on the fassyon wonder—
It shall not be sowed but wyth a lace
Bytwyxt every seme a space
Of two handfull asonder.
Than a doublet of the new make:
Close byfore and open on the bak—
No sleve upon hys arme.
Under that a shyrt as soft as sylk
And as whyte as any mylk
To kepe the carcas warm.
Than shall hys hosen be stryped,
Wyth corselettys of fyne velvet slyped
Down to the hard kne,
And fro the kne downward
Hys hosen shalbe freshely gard
Wyth colours two or thre.
And whan he is in suche aray,
‘There goth a rutter!’ men wyll say.
‘A rutter? Huf, a galand!’
Ye shall se these foles on hym gase
And muse as yt were on a mase
New brought into the land!

Worldly Affeccyon
Ha, ha, ha! Now by the Mary Vyrgyn,
Thys wyll set hym on a mery pyn
Even as yt shuld be.
But ever I am in great fere
That Reason wyll whyster hym in the ere
And torne hys mynd clene fro thys gere—
Thys thynge fereth me!

Pryde
Reason? Nay, nay, hardely,
He ys forsaken utterly!
Syth I cam to hys company
He wold not onys appere.
Never thelesse, for a surte,
Worldly Affeccyon, I advyse the
As shortely as ever yt may be
For spede of the mater

119

To bryng hym shortly in acquayntaunce
Wyth all the company of myne affyaunce
And let theym gyve contynuall attendaunce,
Every man bysyly
After the propertye of hys offyce:
Than shall ye se hym utterly despyce
Reasons counsell—on warrantyse!—
And forsake hym utterly.

[Sensualyte comes in.]
Sensualyte
Nay, nay, syrs, care ye nothynge!
That mater ys sped well and fyne.

Pryde
Is yt so?

Sensualyte
Ye, by heven kyng,
Even as we sat togeder at the wyne.

Wordly Affeccyon
Thou shalt have Goddys blessyng and myne!
But ys yt true?

Sensualyte
Ye syr, by thys day!
Our mayster and Reason have made a great fray.

Pryde
How so?

Sensualyte
By my fayth, we sat together
At the tavern next herby
And anon who shuld come together
But fleyng Kat and Margery—
She that bygyled you parde so prately
And bare away your shyrt the last mornyng
Stede of her smok whyle ye lay slepyng.

Pryde
I wote whom ye meane well inow—
But that ys nothyng to thys purpose.
Tell on thy tale, for God avow!

Sensualyte
I shall anon had I wypt my nose.
Syr, whan I spyde theym, anon I rose
And called theym unto me by name,
And wythout more taryeng anon they came
And sat down with us and made nothyng straung—
As they be full curteys ye know yt well—
And anon our maysters colour bygan to chaunge!
Wherof yt cam I can not tell,
Hys chere was appalled every dell,
And scant that he coulde speke to me one word
But stert hym even up and rose fro the bord.

120

He sayd he wold go ly down on a bed,
And prayd me for the maners sake
That Margery myght com hold hys hede,
Whyche as he told me bygan to ake.
And so she hath hym undertake
To make hym hole in an houre or twayne
Whan soever he hath any suche soden payn.
What yt meaneth I wote never,
But he lyketh her physyk so well
That I trow the devyll of hell
Can not theym two dyssever.
Lo thys have I done, and what trow ye more?
Yet can I tell you better tydyng!

Worldly Affeccyon
What ys that?

Sensualyte
Mary, Reason, that ye two spake of byfore,
Cam even to us as we sat so drynkyng
And gave our mayster an hete worth an hangyng
Bycause that Margery sat on hys kne
Whyle that other hore sat talkyng wyth me.
My mayster saw that he coulde have no rest
Nor never be ryd of thys controllyng:
He played the man and thought yt best,
And wyth an angry loke, to my semyng,
Drew out hys sword wythout more taryeng
And smote Reason so on the hed
That I have great marvayll but he be now dede.

Worldly Affeccyon
Mary, than fyll all the cuppes at ones
If thys be trew!

Sensualyte
Yes, by these ten bones,
I lye never a word!

Pryde
Trowyst thou yt ys no fayned stryfe
Bytwyxt theym two?

Sensualyte
No, on my lyfe,
For whan they faught I ran bytwene
And cryed, ‘Kepe pece and leve debate!’
But ye wold have laughed had ye sene
How I departed theym, and for all that
Sometyme I clapped Reason on the pate
And cryed, ‘Kepe the pece!’ as fast as I coude—
Tyll I was horse I cryed so loude!

Worldly Affeccyon
But can our master play the man now
And fare wyth thys gere?

Sensualyte
Ye, make God avow!
And beware ye of one thyng:
Medyll ye no more wyth Margery,
For by cokkys precyouse body,
If our mayster may yt espy
Or have an understandyng

121

That ye use her company,
I tell you he wyll be angry.
He ys so full of jelosy
As ever I knew man!

Worldly Affeccyon
Jelosy? Pece man, be styll!
He can therof no maner of skyll!

Sensualyte
No? But say what ye wyll,
I am sure he can.
He ys now as famylyer
Wyth Bodely Lust as ever ye were,
Ye, and therto as great a swerer
Whan tyme requyres.
Knew I never of hys age
A man of better corage
To do all maner of outrage
After our desyres.
Syth Reason and he were thus at varyaunce,
He hath be full of suche dalyaunce
And hath called to hys favour and acquayntaunce
Your kynnesmen by and by:
Envy, Wreth, Glotony, and Covetyse,
Slouth, and Lechery be come to hys servyce,
And utterly he hatyth theyre contraryse,
And that he professeth openly.

Worldly Affeccyon
And be these folke of hys retynue?

Sensualyte
Ye, everychon, I tell you trew!
But mary, there names be chaunged new
For to blere hys eye.
I tell you he ys a ferefull man,
For Reason styrreth hym now and than.
And therfore, do we what we can,
It ys lytell inow, hardely.
Syra, there ys fyrst Pryde as ye wot well,
The swete darlynge of the devyll of hell:
How hys name ys chaunged ye can tell!

Worldly Affeccyon
Ye mary, on the best wyse:
Wurshyp I wene ys now hys name.

Sensualyte
Ye, by the rode, even the same.
And Covetyse, to eschue all blame,
Doth hys name dysgyse
And calleth hym selfe Worldly Polycy.
Wreth, bycause he ys somwhat hasty,
Is called Manhode. Then ys there Envy,
And he ys called Dysdayn.
Glotony for Good Felyshyp ys taken,
And Slouth hys old name hath forsaken
And as fayre a name hath he shapen
As ever man coulde ordayn:

122

He ys called Ease, ryght confortable to the blod,
Specyally for theym that luste to do no good.
And amonge all other I wold ye understode
That Lechery ys called Lust.
Lo, these be fayre names parde,
Both good and honest as semeth me.
As for theyre condycyons, what they be
Ye know well!

Worldly Affeccyon
Very just!
I know theyre condycyons on the best wyse,
Yf they kepe styll theyre old gyse.

Sensualyte
Yes, that they do, on warantyse.

Worldly Affeccyon
But yet I have great marvayll
That Covetyse shuld dwell in hys company!

Sensualyte
By my trouth, lo, and so have I.
But one thyng I ensure you faythfully,
And that I have espyed well:
That hyderto our mayster setteth no store
By hys councell nor hys lore.
Mary, whan hys hed waxeth hore,
Than shalbe good season
To folow Covetyse and hys way—
Ye, tyme inow a nother day!
Even so I hard our mayster say.

Worldly Affeccyon
By my fayth, he sayd but reason.
But all the remanent be well retayned?

Sensualyte
Ye, be ye sure, yt ys mater unfayned.
And wote ye who ys gretely dysdayned
Wyth our mayster now?

Pryde
Who?

Sensualyte
By God, even Shamfastnes!
Whan he shall do any suche excesse
No shame can fere hym doubtles,
I may say to you.

Pryde
No? Than the craft were nought.
But now syrs, well bethought:
Syth the mater ys hereto brought,
It ys tyme for me
To go and make some provysyon
Of garmentys after the new invencyon
As he commaunded me to be don.
Therto must I se,

123

For yt ys commytted to my neglygence.
And yf he come hyder whyle I am hens,
I pray the excuse myne absens.

Sensualyte
Ye, and myne also.

Pryde
Why, wylt thou go wyth me?

Sensualyte
Wyll I, quod a? Ye, parde:
It ys accordyng for Sensualyte
Wyth Pryde for to go!

[Pryde, Garcius, and Sensualyte go out.]
Worldly Affeccyon
Now the mater ys allmost in good case
After the Worldys mynde and pleasure!
There ys no more but now must I cumpace
Wyth all my wyt and besy endevure
How it may be stablysshed and contynued sure,
For a lytell fantasy of mannys own wyll
May quayll thys mater and utterly yt spyll.
And yf he vary agayne
Of scrypyll Ymagynacyon
Or ellys by the suggestyon
Of the forsayd Reason,
One thyng I am certayne:
He wyll no lengar me support,
And that were a shrewd crank dort!
Therfore yt ys best that I resort
To my maysters presence
And se of what demeanour he ys.
I am gretely to blame iwys,
For that I saw hym not or thys
Syth he departed hens.

He goeth out and Reason cometh in.
Reason
O good Lord, to whom shall I complayn
And shew the sorowes of my mynde?
And nothyng for myne own cause certayn,
But onely for the decay of Mankynde,
Whyche now of late ys waxen so blynde
That he hath dyspysed and forsaken me
And foloweth every mocyon of hys sensualyte.
What advayled at the begynnyng
That Nature comytted me to hys servyce
And charged me that byfore all thyng
Of all hys gydyng I shuld take thenterpryse
When he lusteth not to folow myne advyse
But foloweth thappetytys of hys sensuall affeccyon
As a brute best that lakketh reson?

124

And yet not wythstandyng
That he doth me dysdayn,
I wyll resort to hym agayn
And do my labour and bysy payn
To assay yf I can hym refrayn
Fro suche bestly lyvyng.
But fyrst wyll I stande hereby
In secrete maner to espy
Some token of grace in hym wherby
I may dyscerne and fynde
That he hath any shamfastnes
After hys great surfet and excesse,
And yf yt be so, doubtles
It shall content my mynde.

Man cometh in [followed by Worldly Affeccyon.]
Man
I say, syrs, where ys Wurshyp, can ye tell?
In thys place I left hym last.

Worldly Affeccyon
Syr, I warand you he ys occupyed well
In ordeynyng your garmentys full fast.
He departed fro me in great hast
For that intent, and so he desyred
That I wold tell you whan nede requyred.
He shewed me hys mynde or he went,
How he had devysed your garment.
And yf yt be made after that intent
As he told me,
Whan ye were on that vestour,
Every man shall do you honour
As becummeth a man of your havyour,
And so yt shuld be.

Man
Ye, but what wyll Reason say
Whan he seeth me in that aray?

Worldly Affeccyon
Reason? Mary, let hym go play
To the devyll of hell!
Ye promysed me at the begynnyng
That ye wold no more be under hys gydyng.

Man
No, but yet yt were accordyng
To have therin hys counsell:
Man wythout Reson ys but blynde,
And yf I shuld speke after my mynde,
I can well a dyfference fynde
Bytwyxt man and a beste
Whan he hath Reason in presence
And duely obeyeth hys law and sentence.

Worldly Affeccyon
Why, have ye suche a spyced conscyence
Now wythin your brest

125

That chaungeth your mynde so sodenly?
I am sory and ashamed truely
On your behalf.

Man
No force, hardely!
Thou ledest me all wrong,
And therfore wyll I no more folow the.

Worldly Affeccyon
Not Worldly Affeccyon?

Man
N[o], parde,
Nor yet thy brother Sensualyte—
I have folowed you to long.

Worldly Affeccyon
Is that your mynde?

Man
Ye, doubtles.
And now wyll I seke Shamefastnes,
By whom I trust I shall redresse
All my mysded.

Worldly Affeccyon
And syth thou wylt nedys to Shame bowe,
I pray God send the shame inow!
And yet I trust—make God avow!—
Ones thou shalt have nede
To call me agayn to thy servyce.

[Worldly Affeccyon goes out.]
Man
Nay, nay, on warantyse!
Now syrs, who can me advyse
What ys best to do?

[Shamfastnes comes in.]
Shamfastnes
Syr, yf ye lust to have myne acquayntaunce,
I am redy to geve you attendaunce:
Happely my servyce shall you advaunce—
I am called Shamfastnes.

Man
By your trouth, are ye the same?

Shamfastnes
Ye forsoth, that ys my name:
Almys dedys I can attame
And help for to represse.
Whan ye have done offence or syn,
Yf ye wyll mercy and grace wyn
Wyth Shamefastnes ye must bygyn—
Thys way must ye take.

Man
Ye be the man wythout faynyng
That I wysshed for or ye cam here,
And glad am I now of your comyng,
Prayng you wyth hart entere
Whan I have nede thus to com nere.

Shamfastnes
So wyll I do, ye may trust yt veryly:
Whan soever ye call ye shall fynde me redy.

He goeth out. [Reason comes forward.]

126

Reason
Syr, ys yt your mynde to do as ye say?

Man
Ye, that ys yt, as God me spede!
Hard ye all thys mater? Ye or nay?

Reason
Yes, that I dyd in very ded.

Man
O gostly Reson, I have greter nede
Of your help than ever I had byfore.
Help me now and I shall never forsake you more.
Syth I forsoke your cumpany
I have commytted myche foly—
I am ashamed certaynly
Whan I thynke theron.
But now have I refused utterly
All suche maner of cumpany
And thys have I done veryly
Of myne own mocyon.

Reason
Than my help shalbe redy as oft as ye me call.
It ys my duety so for to do,
And of your offencys wyll I make no rehersall,
But what soever ye have done hyderto
To me-ward, let yt passe and go.
Agaynst God your offence ys great,
Of the whych mater I wyll not longe treat.
But thys confort of me ye shall have:
Yf ye be contryte as ye pretend,
God ys mercyable yf ye lust to crave.
Call for grace and sone he wyll yt send,
And be not in purpose hereafter to offend.
Accustom your selfe in the wayes of vertue,
And be not in doubt grace wyll ensue.

Man
Syr, yt ys my mynde and intent
Hereafter to be your true obedyent,
And never more to assent
To suche foly agayn.

Reason
And upon that condycyon
I take the unto my tuycyon,
Wyth all hartys affeccyon,
Never to part atwayn.
And for thys seson
Here we make an end,
Lest we shuld offend
Thys audyence—as God defend!—
It were not to be don!

127

Ye shall understand neverthelesse
That there ys myche more of thys processe,
Wherein we shall do our besynes
And our true endevure
To shew yt unto you after our guyse,
Whan my lord shall so devyse—
It shalbe at hys pleasure.

Thus endeth the fyrst parte.