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The Second Parte

  

2. The Second Parte

Reason and Man come in.
Reason
I assemble the lyfe of mortall creature
To the assyege agayn a strong town or castell
In whyche there ys myche besy endevure,
Myche warly polycy wyth dylygent travayll
On every syde whyche parte shall prevayll
By sleyght of ingyns or by strong power
That other to subdue and bryng into daunger.
In suche case and maner of condycyon
Is wreched Man here in thys lyfe erthly
Whyle he abydeth wythin the garyson
Of the frayll carcas and carynouse body,
Whom to impugn laboreth incessantly
The World, the Fleshe, the Enemy—these thre—
Hym to subdue and bryng into captyvyte.
And for to shew you what wyse they us impugn,
Fyrst doth the World geve us an allectyfe
To covet ryches and worldly renown,
Wyth other vanyteys that be used in thys lyfe.
Next that our Fleshe, whyche ever ys in stryfe
Agayn our spyryte, doth provoke and excyte
Us to accomplyshe our sensuall appetyte.
The last of all ys our great Enemy,
Whyche ever hath us in contynuall haterede
Of old enkankred malyce and envy
That he oweth to us and all the kynrede
Of all the aunceters of whom we do succede,
Nor yet cesseth hys malyce unto thys day
Us to endaunger in all that he can or may.
And certes these our sayd enemyes
Be of theyre nature so myghty and so strong
That hard yt wyll be for us in any wyse
Agayn them warre or batayll to underfong.
Also our garisons and fortresse to mayntayn long
Agayn theyre ingens wythout spyrytuall grace
We can not performe in no maner case.

128

Wherfore yt ys to us ryght behovable
Besyly to pray to God that ys immortall,
Besechyng hym as he ys mercyable
To have compassyon and pytye on us all
And not to suffer us any wyse to fall
Into suche foly and utter myschaunce
As shuld theym greve and do dysplesaunce.
Also yt behoveth on our parte
To fle all suche maner of occasyon
As may us put in fere and jeoparde
Of theyre dyspleasure in any condycyon.
New fanglenes and other nyce invencyon
We must forsake in all maner wyse
And acquaynt us wyth theyre contraryse:
Quia contraria contrariis curantur, etc.
I tell thys tale, syr, to you,
Trustyng that yt be not done in wast.
Ye remember as I suppose well inow
How yt ys not fully thre dayes past
Syth ye me promysed and bound yt fast
From that day forth to be obedyent
Unto my counsell and advysement.

Man
Ye syr, so I dyd in very ded,
And yet yt ys my mynde and intent
To folow the same, have ye no drede.

Reason
Yf ye do nat, your selfe shall repent.
Now fare ye well, for I must be absent
As for a season, and for your confort,
Whan so ever ye call me I shall to you resort.

Then he goeth out and Sensualyte cometh in.
Sensualyte
God forbed that ever he com agayn!
Jesu, how may ye thys lyfe endure?
Me semeth yt shuld be to you a great payn,
Syth ye be of good complexyon and nature,
To forbere the worldly sport and pleasure
As ye have done now a great seson,
And all by the folyshe counsell of Reson!
Where ys your lusty hart bycom
That served you so well thys other day?
Now so helpe me God and halydom,
I have great marvell how ye may
Lyve in suche mysery, and thys dare I say:
Wythout ye take some other wayes,
By my trouth yt wyll shorten your dayes!

129

And though I say yt, that were pyte,
For by Cryste, and ye were gone,
Meny a good felow wold make great mone.

Then he wepyth.
Man
Why wepe ye so?

Sensualyte
Let me alone,
It wyll none other wyse be!
And ye saw the sorowfull countenaunce
Of my cumpany, your old acquayntaunce,
That they make
For your sake,
I dare say ye wold mone theym in your mynde.
They be so lovyng and so kynde
That I am sure
Yf ye endure
In thys pevyshe opynyon,
It wyll be theyre confessyon!
There ys none other remedy
But for sorow they shall dye.

Man
Nay, God forbed they shuld so do!

Sensualyte
In fayth, wythout ye help therto
There ys none other way.

Man
I wyll help yt in all that I may
And I wyst by what mene.

Sensualyte
Mary, call theym to your cumpany!

Man
By Saynt Johan I am content,
For I may say here to the,
Syth I forsoke my lyberte
And dyd to Reson assent,
I had never mery day
But lyved under awe and drede alway,
Nothyng to myne intent.
Another whyle I wyll me dysport
And to myne old cumpany resort.

Sensualyte
O than shall ye theym confort
And your selfe also!
Wote ye who wyll be very glad?

Man
Who?

Sensualyte
Margery.

Man
Why, was she sad?

Sensualyte
Ye by the masse, she was stark mad
Even for very wo

130

Whan she hard tell of thys chaunce.
And bycause she wold lyve in penaunce
Her sorow for to quenche,
She hath entred into a relygyouse place
At the Grene Frerys hereby.

Man
Ye, hase?
Alak, good lytell wenche!
Is yt an house of strayt relygyon?

Sensualyte
Ye, as any that ever was bygon
Syth the world stode.

Man
Be they close nonnes as other be?

Sensualyte
Close, quod a? Nay, nay, parde,
That gyse were not good!—
Ye must beware of that gere.
Nay, all ys open that they do there,
As open as a gose eye.

Man
And cometh any man into theyre sellys?

Sensualyte
Ye, ye, God forbede ellys,
It ys fre for every body!
And bysyde all thys, they be
Ex omni gente cognite—
No nacyon they forsake
Wythout yt be beggars goyng by the way
That have never a peny to pay
For that that they do take.
And yet can I beggars thyder lede
Where they shall for lumpes of brede
Satysfye theyre desyre!
Suche drabbes some there be
That requyre none other fe
Nor yet any other hyre.

Man
Be they not wedded as other folke be?

Sensualyte
Wedded, quod a? No, so mot I the,
They wyll not tary therfore!
They can wed theym selfe alone:
‘Com kys me Johan.’ ‘Gramercy Jone.’
Thys wed they ever more.
And yt ys the more to comend,
For yf the woman hap to offend
As yt ys theyre gyse,
A man may let her alone—wyth sorow!—
And wed a nother hore on the morow
Even of the same wyse.


131

Man
Forsoth, thys ys a noble relygyon!
It styrreth me to great devocyon
For to se that place.
Canst thou bryng me thyder well inow?

Sensualyte
Ye, and yt were myd nyght, I make God avow,
As dark as ever yt was!

Man
But where ys Bodely Lust now?

Then cometh in Bodyly Lust, [and] wyth hym Worldly Affeccyon.
Bodyly Lust
Mary syr, I have sytten and sought you
Thys thre or four howrys.

Man
I make God avow,
Ye gyve shrewd attendaunce!
All thys two dayes I coulde not the espy.

Bodyly Lust
Syr, ye know well that ye and I
Be never myche asonder
Albe yt I be from you among.

Man
And now me semeth thou hast taryed to long,
Whyche ys to me great wonder.

Bodyly Lust
Wonder? Ye parde, for an howr or twayn—
Forth for a passyng whyle and com agayn!
Here ys a sore mater.
Whan was I so long absent as now?
And yet I was for to seke you
At the tother syde of the water—
The place that ye wot of parde:
Understande ye what I mene?

Man
Ye, ye!

Bodyly Lust
Tell me in myne ere.

Man
Quid est Latinum propter le stewys?

Bodyly Lust
What? Laten? Now thys of the new ys!
I herd never thys ere—
I trow ye begyn to waxe shamfast!

Man
Nay, nay, hardely, that gere ys past
Meny dayes agon.
I am as wanton as ever I was!

Bodyly Lust
It were almes to hang you ellys—by the masse!—
By the hard necke bon.
But wyll ye now go wyth me to a place
And I shall shew you the smorterst face
That ever ye saw wyth eyes?

Man
What thyng ys yt, yong or old?

Bodyly Lust
What ever yt be, yt ys able to be sold.
It shall lyke you on the best wyse.


132

Man
For my love, let us some nyght be there
At a banket or a rere supper
And get us some wanton mete,
So we may have some deynty thyng!
Yet wold I spende twenty shyllyng
Where so ever I yt get.

Bodyly Lust
Nay, nay, wyll ye spende a copell of crownes?
And there shall no gentylman in thys ten townes
Be better served than ye,
Nor be receyved more honestly
As to an house of bawdry
For a banket or a jonkry
For a dyshe two or thre.

Man
Yes, that wyll I spend wyth all myne hart.

Bodyly Lust
By your leve, I wyll depart
To make redy thys gere.

Man
What now, in all thys hast?

Bodyly Lust
Ye, for God syr, I am agast
That other knaves wyll come theder
Byfore us and take up all.

Man
Se thereto I pray the!

Bodyly Lust
So I shall,
Ellys fye on all together!

Then goeth he out.
Worldly Affeccyon
Now wyll Margery make great mone
Bycause ye com not.

Man
Ye, let her alone!
I am not her bond man parde:
She hath dysappoynted me or now.

Worldly Affeccyon
Yet on my fayth syr, and I were as you,
At the leste I wold excuse me.
Send her word that ye in no wyse
May thys nyght kepe her promyse,
And yf ye do not so,
She wyll so morn that as I thynk
Of all thys nyght she wyll slepe no wynk,
She shalbe so full of wo.

Man
Ye, on my parell, take no care!
Thys answere wyll I deffar and spare
Tyll I be certayn
What answere Bodyly Lust shall bryng
Of thys other praty new thyng
Whan he cometh agayne.


133

Worldly Affeccyon
Wyll yt please you that I go to Mergery
In your stede?

Man
Mary, that were mery!
Woldyst thou serve me so?

Worldly Affeccyon
Why syr, by my trouth, I mene but well.

Man
Ye, what thou menyst I can not tell,
But that shall thou not do!

Worldly Affeccyon
In good fayth syr, ye may do wurs,
For whyle I have any thyng in my purs
Or any peny to spend,
I wyll make her even suche chere
As I wold myne own wyfe yf she were here,
Ellys God defend!

Man
Ye, I thanke the for thy good wyll!
But as for that chere, kepe yt styll
Tyll I call theron.

Worldly Affeccyon
By God syr, for good love I spake yt!
And now that I se ye wyll not take yt,
I shall let yt alone.

[Bodyly Lust comes in.]
Man
How now? Hast thou bene yender away?

Bodyly Lust
Ye syr.

Man
Et que novellys?

Bodyly Lust
Je nescey—
I could not speke wyth her
No[r] wyth none of her folkys.

Man
Not wyth one?

Bodyly Lust
No, they be aslepe everychone
All that ever dwell there.

Man
How knowest thou wether they be aslepe or no?

Bodyly Lust
Mary, she her selfe told me so
Whan I rapped at the dore.

Man
It semeth she was not aslepe than.

Bodyly Lust
No, she was abed wyth a strange man.

Man
A myschefe on her, hore!
I wold this fyre wer in her tayll, I make God avow!

Bodyly Lust
That nedeth not—she ys hote inow!
It were more almes to get
Some cold water her fyre to quenche.
I tell you, yt ys as warm a wenche
As any in all thys strete.
I supposed I had angred her yll.

Man
How so?

Bodyly Lust
For I rang her a knyll
That waked her from her slepe.
I gave her a pele for her frendys soulys—
A man myght have hard the noys from Poulys
To the farthest ende of Chepe.

134

She saw that I wold not seace but knok
And rap styll at the gate.
She opened a wyndow and put forth her hed:
‘Hens, forty pens!’ quod she, ‘Jak Noble ys abed:
Thys nyght ye come to late!’
‘A, ha! Standeth the wynd so cold?’ quod I.
‘Ka, cue-tytle, we have a bry!
Thys gere goeth all wyde!’
And so I cam thens a great pace
Tyll I cam hyder. Lo, thys ys the case.
Have I not well hyde?

Man
Well man, there ys no more to do:
That we can not have, we must forgo—
There ys none other remedy.
Lo Worldly Affeccyon, now mayst thou se
Thy counsell was nought that thou gavest me.

Worldly Affeccyon
No more yt was, truely.

Man
Ye, I told the as myche byfore:
It ys good to be sure ever more.
Therfore now let us go
And resorte agayn to our old hostes—
That ys the best way now as I gesse.

Worldly Affeccyon
Ye hardely, do so.

Then they thre [and Sensualyte] go out and Pryde cometh in.
Pryde
Syrs, remember ye that thys other day
Man promysed me even in thys stede
That I shuld wyth hym dwell? And now I here say
The wylde worm ys com into hys hed
So that by Reason only he ys led!
It may well be so, but I am sure
That Reason shall not alway wyth hym endure.
Me thynketh that Sensualyte doth not hys parte
Accordyng to the duety of hys offyce,
For no body can better torn a mannys hart
Nor yet a redyer mean devyse
To put away suche folyshe fantasyse
Than Sensualyte yf he lust to assay,
For he ys chyef ruler whan Reason ys away.

[Sensualyte comes in.]

135

Sensualyte
Ye, a ruler wyll I be though Reason say nay.

Pryde
Ah Sensualyte, welcom by thys day!
What tydyngys? Good?

Sensualyte
Ye, by my fay,
As good as can be told:
I have brought thys Man to hys old gyse.

Pryde
Hast thou so?

Sensualyte
Ye, on warantyse.

Pryde
Now forsoth, I gyve the pryk and pryse—
Thou art worth thy weyght of gold!
Of thys tydyngys I am glad and fayn,
But shall I be welcom to hym agayn
And all our cumpany?

Sensualyte
Ye hardely,
As welcom as ever ye ware byfore.

Pryde
Goddys blessyng have thyn hart therfore!
Thus am I in thy det more and more.

Sensualyte
Japes! Why say ye so?

Pryde
For I speke yt after my mynde—
Thou art to me alway so kynde.
But where shall I our mayster fynde?
To hym wyll I go.

Sensualyte
He ys besy—harke in your ere!—
Wyth lytell Margery, ye wote where!
And as sone as I had brought hym there
I cam my way apace,
And bycause he shuld not be alone,
I left wyth hym Worldly Affeccyon,
And other erand had I none
Now to thys place
But even to shew you what ys done.
And from hens I must anone
For to seke an other companyon
To gyve attendaunce.

Pryde
Who ys that?

Sensualyte
Mary, Glotony.
Our mayster calleth for hym besyly!
Sawyst thou hym not?

Pryde
No certaynly,
To my remembraunce.

Sensualyte
I must go seeke hym wythout any taryeng.
But Pryde, I warn you of one thyng
Whyle I thynk theron:
Whan my mayster and ye shall mete,
In any wyse se that ye hym grete
In the old fassyon,

136

And make as though ye know nothyng
Of hys dyvers and varyable dealyng—
Kepe that in your brest.
Ye can not do hym more dyspleasure
Than therof to make reporture.
Therfore let yt rest:
To speke therof yt ys hygh treson.

Then he goeth out.
Pryde
I am glad ye warn me thus in seson!
I shalbe the better ware:
By thys warnyng I shalbe wyse
And do as ye me advertyse—
Take therof no care.

[Slouth comes in.]
Slouth
Wyll ye be wyse, quod a? Mary, that ys a thyng!
By God, ye had nede to have better warnyng
Or ye bryng that about!

Pryde
What, brother Slouth? Fro whens comyst thou?

Slouth
Streyght fro my bed, I make God avow!
Myne eyes be almost out
For lak of slepe. But thys syr to you!
Me thought ye called me Slouth ryght now—
Pece, no more of that.
I have a new name as well as ye.

Pryde
What ys that? Ease?

Slouth
Ye parde,
But yt forceth not
Whyle our mayster ys not present.
Bytwene us twayn, I am content,
Call me what ye wyll.
But where ys our mayster?

Pryde
Wotest thou nere?

Slouth
No.

Pryde
No more do I.

Slouth
There, there, there,
Thou shalt dwell wyth me styll—
Thou art as good a wayter as I.

Pryde
I shrew the better of us both hardely!
But surely we do not well:
We shall not contynue wyth yonder Man
But we awayte better now and than.
Therfore by my counsell,

137

Let us twayn go together
To seeke our mayster.

Slouth
But wotyst thou whether
We shall now go
To fynde our mayster?

Pryde
I shall assay.
Thou shalt se me gesse the way
And happely fynde hym to.
Now must I to the stewes as fast as I may
To fech thys gentylman!—But syrs, I say,
[To audience.]
Can any man here tell me the way?—
For I cam never there.
Ye know the way, parde, of old!
I pray the tell me, whyche way shall I hold?
Wyll ye se thys horson cocold?
I trow he can not here!
Now yt were almes to clap the on the crown!

Then cometh in Man and Worldly Affeccyon.
Man
Why, be there any cocoldys in town?

Pryde
Ye, I durst hold theron my gown
That there be a score!
But for God, I cry you mercy,
For by my fayth I wyst you not so ny!
Had I wyst yt, I ensure you faythfully
That word I wold have forbore.

Man
No force hardely, yt toucheth not me!
But Wurshyp, tell me, where have ye be?
Me thynketh long syth I you se.

Pryde
Syr, yt ys no marvell,
Bad ye not me the last day
To go purvey for your aray,
And ye remember well?

Man
Ye for God, have ye done the same?

Pryde
Ye by the rode, ellys were I to blame.
All thyng ys redy—in payn of shame!—
Ellys I quyte me yll.
The tayler told me yester nyght
That all your garmentys were redy dyght.
Wyll ye go thyder and have a syght?

Man
Ye mary, wyth a good wyll.

Slouth
Wyll ye that I go wyth you also?

Man
I wote never whether ye may attend therto,
For ye do nothyng
But even after your own swete wyll.

Slouth
Why, shuld I ever wayt? Nay, that I nyll
For to be a kyng!

138

I may not endure contynuall besynes—
I was never used therto, doubtles.
I shuld not lyve a yere
Yf I folowed you, I am sure.
Ye styr and labour out of mesure—
I saw never your pere!
Ye wene there can nothyng be do
But yf ye put your hand therto,
And iwys that ys no nede.
Ye have servauntys that be true and just,
Yf yt wold lyke you to put theym in trust
And quyte well theyre mede.
What shuld I attend you for to please
Whan I se well ye set by none ease
Whyche belongeth to me?

Man
Why Ease, what meaneth the thus to say?
I do but ete, drynk, slepe, and play,
And none other labour parde.

Slouth
Ye, ye may say what ye wyll,
But I can never se you ydell
And quyete as ye shuld be—
Your body laboreth as doth an hakney
That bareth the burdon every day
That pytye yt ys to se.
And your mynde, on that other syde,
Is never idell nor unoccupyed—
Iwys yt greveth me
To se you demeaned that wyse.
I trow ye be set all on covetyse!

Man
Covetyse? Nay, let be,
It ys a thyng of greter cure
That stycketh in my mynde, be thou sure!

Slouth
So me thought, by the rode!
I wyst as myche there was som thyng
By your lowryng chere and your syghyng
That was not all thyng good.
But what ys the mater, I pray you hartely?

Man
Iwys, thou canst not devyse the remedy
Wyth all the wyt thou hast.
But thys ys the case, to tell yt shortely:
A thyng was told me as I cam hereby
How Reason purvayth fast

139

And maketh very great labour and ordynaunce
To dashe us all out of countenaunce,
And for that purpose
He hath gadred a great cumpany.

Slouth
What to do?

Man
I wote nere, I,
But as I suppose
It ys to bryng me in captyvyte
And to take fro me my lyberte—
So he hath oft sayd.

Pryde
Fere ye that mater?

Man
Nay, never a dell!
But I care for yt, wyt ye well.
Yet am I not afrayd,
For I wyll wythstand yt proudly.
And, syrs, I trust ye wyll stand therby
Whan yt shalbe nede.

Pryde
Ye, by the way that God went!
Or he have of you hys intent,
Fyrst shall I blede
The best blode that ys in thys carcas.

Man
Well Ease, go thy way hens a pace
And make therin good spede.
Call my cumpany all togeder
And byd theym every man com heder
That ys wyth me affeed.

Slouth
Mary syr, that shalbe do.

Then he goeth out.
Man
Wurshyp, in the mean tyme let us go
To se my new apparell.

Pryde
Wyll ye so? Now for your ladyes sake,
Go do yt on you, and I undertake
It shall becom you well.

Man
Worldly Affeccyon, abyde thou here,
For I wyll go do on thys new gere
As Wurshyp doth me counsell.

Then Man and Pryde goeth out.
Worldly Affeccyon
Mary, I shall wyth all myne hart:
Thys good fyre and I wyll not depart!
For very cold myne handys do smart—
It maketh me wo-bygon!

140

Get me a stole! Here, may ye not se?
[To audience.]
Or ellys a chayr! Wyll yt not be?
Thou pyld knave, I speke to the!
How long shall I stande?

[Glotony comes in.]
Glotony
Let hym stand, wyth a foule evyll!
A stole or a chayr, quod a? Get hym the devyll!
Wyll ye se? Lo, every drevyll
Now adayes, I warand,
Must commaund as he were a kyng.
Let hym stande on hys fete, wyth bredyng!

Worldly Affeccyon
What, Glotony? I can tell the one thyng:
In fayth, you wyll be shent.

Glotony
Why?

Worldly Affeccyon
My mayster hath sent Sensualyte
To seke the all about the contre.
Spakest thou not wyth hym?

Glotony
Yes parde,
I know all hys intent,
And thereuppon I am com here
For to awayt. But wotest thou where
Our mayster ys now?

Worldly Affeccyon
Nay, I wote nere.
I am not very certayn,
But Pryde and he together be gon.
He sayd he wold com agayn anon
Wythin an howr or twayn.
Tary thou here and go not away—
I wyll go breke my fast and I may,
For I ete never a morsell thys day.

Then he goeth out.
Glotony
Mary, that ys a thyng!
Go whan thou wylt! I wyll abyde.
My stomak he shall not rule or gyde
That ys now fastyng!
Nay, of all thynge erthly I hate to fast.
Four tymes a day I make repast,
Or thryse as I suppose,
And whan I am well fed
Than get I me to a soft bed
My body to repose.
There take I a nap or twayn,
Up I go streyght and to yt agayn!
Though nature be not redy,
Yet have I some mete of delyte
For to provoke thappetyte
And make the stomak gredy.

141

After all thys, nedys I must
Somtyme folow the wanton lust:
It foloweth naturally,
For hote drynkys and delycate refeccyon
Causeth flesshely insurreccyon—
Ye know yt as well as I.

[Man enters, dressed as a gallant; Bodyly Lust accompanies him.]
Man
Trouth, as ye say I know yt well.

Glotony
What gentylman ys thys? Can ye tell?

Bodyly Lust
Wotyst thou never?

Glotony
No, by the bell,
I saw hym never byfore.

Bodyly Lust
Is yt our mayster?

Glotony
Nay, by the rood,
It ys not he—woldyst thou make me wood?

Man
Yes, I am the same!

Glotony
I cry you mercy! I se yt well now!
Byfore I knew you not, I make God avow,
In ernest nor in game.

Man
Why? Bycause I have chaunged myne aray?

Glotony
For that cause, trow ye? Nay, nay,
That ys not the thyng
That can dysceyve me, be ye sure!
But I pray you, who hath had you in cure
Syth my last departyng?

Man
By my fayth, a lytell season
I folowed the counsell and dyet of Reason.

Glotony
There went the hare away!
Hys dyet, quod a? Yt may be veryly,
For ye be haltred marvelously—
Altred I wold say!
Alas the whyle, had ye no mete
As long as ye were under hys dyet?

Man
Mete? Yes, I had som,
Wythout yt were on fastyng dayes:
Than he wythdrew my supper alwayes
And gave me never a crom.

Glotony
No force hardely! Why wold ye than
Favor hym as ye dyd, lyke a mad man?
Ye loke now as yt were a gost:
Had ye dwelt wyth hym tyll thys day,
Ye had bene pyned even away
As ye be now almost.

142

Your fleshe ys gon every dell!
A vengeaunce on the morsell
That ys left theron!

Bodyly Lust
Now talk of the remedy.

Glotony
Mary, now must he ete and drynke fast—
Other remedy ys there none.

Bodyly Lust
Ye, but where ys the mete now, let us se?

Glotony
Ye are passyng hasty, benedicite!
Fyrst must ye go
Where as provysyon therof ys made:
Let us go thyder and yt shalbe had.

Man
But what ys the maysters of the in—
A weddyd woman or a vyrgyn?

Glotony
Neyther of both iwys.

Bodyly Lust
No, but for a mayden she goth.

Glotony
Ye, for God, that she doth,
But yet she ys none, by Jys!

Bodyly Lust
No? No? What than?

Glotony
Iwys, I not, but as men clater
They say she ys innupta mater
Hardely, an holy woman.

Man
Well, thyder we wyll. Go we hens!

Bodyly Lust
Syr, ye wyll gyve me lycence
To sport me for a season?

Man
Yes, for a whyle: ye, well inow.
But go not out of the way I charge you,
For hyder wyll come anone
All my cumpany as I suppose.
Kepe theym together, for I purpose
To come agayn anone
And shew theym my mynde what I wyll do.

Then he goeth out [with Glotony.]
Bodyly Lust
Mary, I shall do what I can thereto,
And yet yt ys hard for me
To kepe theym together any whyle.
But I shall tell you what:
I had lever kepe as many flese
Or wyld hares in an opyn lese
As undertake that!

[Wrath comes in, armed for battle.]

143

Wrath
Where be these knaves that make thys aray?

Bodyly Lust
Mary, they be gon that other way.
Tell me whome ye meane!

Wrath
I trow thou scornyst.

Bodyly Lust
Nay, certaynly!
How so be yt, yf I shuld not ly,
At the fyrst blushe, I ensure you faythfully,
I had forgot you clene
Bycause ye be thus defensybly arayd.
What meaneth that? Are ye affrayd?
Who hath you greved?

Wrath
Nay, I fere no man that bereth an hed!
Yet had I lever that I were dede
Than that shuld be preved.

Bodyly Lust
By my fayth, ye are wont to be as bold
As yt were a lyon of Cottyswold!
But now to my questyon:
What meaneth all thys defensyble aray?

Wrath
Mary, Slouth warned us two thys same day,
Even syth yt was none,
That our mayster and Reason shuld make a fray,
And therfore he bad us wythout delay
To awayt on our capytayn.

Bodyly Lust
A, now I know the mater ryght well,
But what shall com therof I can not tell—
It passeth my brayn!
Our mayster wylled that we twayn
Shuld tary here tyll he com agayn.

[Envy comes in.]
Envy
What wylt thou do than?

Bodyly Lust
Who, I? Nay, care not for me—
I wyll not com where strokys be:
I am not so mad a man!
And iwys, yt ys not for any fere,
But yt ys a thyng that I can well forbere
And wyll as long as I can.
Of lust and pleasure ys all my mynde—
It longeth to me of properte and kynde.
And yf I shuld to the warre
And ly in myne harnes as other men do
Wyth hunger and thurst a day or two,
It shuld me utterly marre.


144

Envy
It were a great losse yf thou were mard!
Now fy on the, stark horson coward!
By cokkys precyouse blode,
It were no syn to sle suche a knave!
Hast not thou wagys as other men have
And few of us so good,
Yet wylt thou fayll us at thys nede?
Now who so ever shall quyte my mede,
I wyll no further go
Tyll I have slayn hym myne own hand
Though I shuld forswere the land
Even whan I have do.
Then goeth out Bodyly Lust.
Hold hym in syrs, I you requyre!
[To audience.]
Alas, wold ye not at my desyre
Do so myche for me?
Iwys, yt wold have done me more good
To have sene the knaves hart blode
Than twenty shyllyngys of fee!

[Man comes in.]
Man
What how, syrs, what meaneth thys gere?
Wyll ye sle eche other here?
No more of thys worke!

Envy
By the hart of God, and he had abyden
A lytell whyle, he shuld never have spoken
Wyth preste nor wyth clarke.

Man
Who was that?

Envy
Your own mynyon,
Bodyly Lust.

Man
Why, what hath he done?

Envy
Even lyke a lurden
He sayth that ye have gyven hym lycence
To abyde at home and kepe resydence
Whyle we bere the burden
And serve you now at your nede.

Man
He prayde me so in very dede!
Wythin these two dayes
He sayd he wold serve me wyth a good wyll,
But of the warrys he could no skyll
Nor knew therof the wayes.

145

How be yt, I gave hym therof none answere.

Envy
No, but I am sure he wyll not com there.
And now may ye se
That no man ys so myche to blame
As your selfe.

Man
I?

Envy
Ye, by Saynt Jame,
No man but even ye!
For I am well assured of one thyng:
Ye gave hym better clothyng
Than ye dyd me,
And better wagys and fees also!
And though I sayd but lytell thereto
But suffered ever more,
Yet I dysdaynd yt ever in my mynde,
And though[t] that ye were to me unkynde
To set so great store
By suche a knave as he was.
I wold I had hym here, by the masse,
And no man but we twayn!

Man
By my trouth, thys ys ever thy guyse:
Loke by whom I set any pryse,
Hym thou wylt most dysdayn!

Wrath
By Cryst, he can do none other wyse!
But now syr, ys there any servyce
That ye wyll commaunde me?

Man
Ye mary ys there, but my cumpany
Dresseth theym forward passyng slowly:
I trow yt wyll not be.
Manhode, thou art good inow, for one.

Wrath
Ye by Cryst, and they cam everychone,
I wyll not gretly fere.

Envy
By my trouth, bycause he sayth so,
I shall tell you what I saw hym do—
I was present there.
Syr, yt happyned in Westmynster Hall
Even byfore the juges all:
Hys handys were bound fast,
And never upon hym that ever God made
Dager, sword, nor knyfe he had,
And yet at the last
He drave twelve men into a corner
And an howr after durst they not appere!
How say ye hereto?
And hys handys had bene at lyberte,
He wold have put theym in great jeoparde—
It ys to suppose so.


146

Man
Mary, there he quyte hym well!
But where be myne other folk, can ye tell?

Then cometh in Glotony wyth a chese and a botell.
Wrath
Mary, here cometh one—
Good Felyshyp me semeth yt shuld be.

Glotony
Syrs, God spede you!

Man
What tydyngys wyth the?

Glotony
I shall tell you anone
Had I set adone my gere.
Mary syr, I am com here
For to attende uppon you:
We shall a warfare, yt ys told me.

Man
Ye, where ys thy harnes?

Glotony
Mary, here may ye se:
Here ys harnes inow.

Wrath
Why, hast thou none other harnes but thys?

Glotony
What the devyll harnes shuld I mys
Wythout yt be a botell?
A nother botell I wyll go purvey
Lest that drynk be scarce in the way
Or happely none to sell.

Wrath
Thou must have other harnes than thys, man!

Glotony
Other harnes? Nay, I shrew me than!
I can no skyll theron!
Why, trowest thou that I wyll fyght?

Envy
Ye, so I trow.

Glotony
Nay, by God almyght,
Therof wyll I none!
I was never wont to that gere.
But I may serve to be a vyteler,
And therof shall ye have store,
So that I may stand out of daunger
Of gon shot. But I wyll com no nere,
I warn you that byfore.

Envy
Now, suche a knave I betake to the devyll!
Thys ys even suche a nother drevyll
As was here whyle ere:
They be two knaves annoynted!
I fere me, syr, ye shalbe dysappoynted:
I lyke not thys gere.


147

Glotony
O, I had forgoten, I make God avow!
Syr, my felow Ease commaundeth me to you.

Man
Commaundeth the to me?

Glotony
You to me.

Man
Me to the?

Glotony
Commaundeth you to hym I wold have sayd.

Man
Why cometh he not hyder?

Glotony
By God, for he ys afrayd
And lyeth syk in hys bed.
He toke such a conseyt whan he hard of thys gere
That for thought and very fere
I wene he wyll be dede.

Wrath
And he were hanged, yt were no rek!
I pray God the devyll breke hys nek
And all suche as he ys!

Man
Well, let us suffer for a whyle.
I wyll go walke hens halfe a myle,
And for all thys
Happely all thys gere shall not nede,
How be yt that I dout and drede
The wurst as wyse men do.
Manhode, com thy selfe wyth me.

Glotony
And I to, syr?

Man
Ye parde,
Woldyst thou be prayd thereto.

Than goeth out Man, Glotony, and Wrath.
Envy
Now he that wold have warre or stryfe,
I pray God send hym a shrewd wyfe,
And than shall he have inow!
But I shall tell you, syrs, as for me
I am none of theym, so mot I the!
I may say to you
I wyll no suche rekennyngys abyde!
Goddys body, here cometh Pryde
As crank as a pecok!
As sone as he and I mete,
Wythout he stand ryght uppon hys fete
He shall bere me a proude mok.

[Pryde comes in.]
Pryde
What tydyngys, syrs? Can any man tell?

Envy
Ye mary, that can I do as well
As any that was in feld.
Ye have taryed so long about your gay gere
That the feld ys done or ye come there.

Pryde
Done? Mary, God sheld!


148

Envy
It ys done wythout fayll,
But whyche of theym hath wone the batayll
I can not tell you certayn.

Pryde
Thou were not there, yt semeth therby.

Envy
Not I there, quod a? Yes hardely,
And that to my grete payn!
But as sone as the batellys joyned togeder
I cam my way streyght heder
For to tell tydyngys.

Pryde
What the devyll tydyngys canst thou tell?

Envy
Mary, I can shew you nothyng of the batell,
But of many other tydyngys:
Ye are out of conceyt, I tell you, for ever,
Bycause ye dyd not you endevoure
At thys great vyage—
In so myche that ye are lyke to lees
Both your offyce and all your fees
And put clene out of wagys.

Pryde
That ys not true as I suppose!

Envy
Syr, and yt be not, take my nose
And my hed also!
Your offyce was gyven or I cam thens.

Pryde
Mary, that was a very short sentence,
And I not called therto!
Now Envy, what counsell wylt thou gyve me?

Envy
By my trouth, Pryde—thou mayst byleve me—
If I were in thy case
I wold wythdrawe me for a season:
Though yt be nother felony nor treason
Nor yet wylfull trespace,
Yet the s[h]ame ys wurst of all,
For every knave wyll the call
A coward to thy face!

Pryde
I am unhappy, I se yt well,
For thexpense of myne apparell
Towardys this vyage,
What in horses and other aray,
Hath compelled me for to lay
All my land to morgage.
And now, whan I have all do,
To lesse myne offyce and fees also
For my true intent!
I may say that all my cost
And all my tyme ys evyll lost
In servyce that I have spent!

149

Well, what so ever bytyde me,
For a season I wyll hyde me
After thy counsell.
And syth yt wyll no better be,
Fare well! I take my leve of the.

[Pryde goes out.]
Envy
Now gentyll Pryde, fare well!
Alas, that I had no good felow here
To bere me cumpany and laugh at thys gere!
Thys game was well founde!

[Sensualyte comes in.]
Sensualyte
Yes, and ye lust to play the knave,
Some maner of cumpany ye myght have
Here wythin thys grounde.

Envy
Some I can thynke, yong or old,
And ellys yt were a small houshold
As any myght be found.

Sensualyte
It ys not small, the company sheweth well.
But me thought thou were about to tell
Of some mery jeste
Or som mery game at my cummyng.

Envy
Ye hardely, yt ys a game for a kyng
Whan he lusteth best
To laugh for hys dysporte and solace!
Syr, I shall tell the! Thys ys the case:
Ryght now as I stode
In thys place, and never a man wyth me,
In cam Pryde garnyshed as yt had be
One of the ryall blode.
It greved me to se hym so well besene,
But I have abated hys corage clene
For a lytell season.
By the rode, I have gyven hym a chek mate!
For I bare hym on hand that he cam to late,
And that the feld was done,
And how hys offyce was gyven away
Bycause he fayled our mayster that day.
I made hym to byleve so,
And whan I had told hym all thys tale,
Anone he began to wax all pale,
Full of care and wo,
And now he hydeth hym selfe for shame.
I gave hym myne advyse to the same,
And so he ys gon.

Sensualyte
Now on my fayth, thys was madly do!
But in fayth, what moveth the therto?

Envy
Mary, cause had I none

150

But only that yt ys my guyse:
Whan I se an other man aryse
Or fare better than I,
Than must I chafe and fret for yre
And ymagyn wyth all my desyre
To dystroy hym utterly.
But now in ernest, Sensualyte,
Tell me whan thys fray shalbe,
I pray the hartely.

Sensualyte
What? Agaynst Reason?

Envy
Ye, the same.

Sensualyte
Tushe, they be agreed, in payn of shame,
And good cumpany they kepe.

Envy
Agreed, quod a? In the mare name,
Mary syr, that were a game
To make some of us wepe!

Sensualyte
Wepe or laugh man, so yt ys!
And who, trow ye, ys the causer of thys?

Envy
Who?

Sensualyte
Age, the devyll hym quell!

Envy
Why, ys Age now com in place?

Sensualyte
Ye, and that may ye spy by hys face
And ye mark yt well.
Hys stomak faynteth every day,
Hys bak croketh, hys hed waxeth gray,
Hys nose droppeth among,
Hys lust ys gone and all hys lykyng:
I se yt well by every thyng
He may not lyve long,
And all maketh Age as I sayd byfore—
He ys the doar! And what trow ye more
Thys Age hath done.

Envy
What?

Sensualyte
By my fayth, he hath brought in Reason
In suche wyse that at no season
Nothyng can be wrought
But Reason must be called therto!
I fere me he wyll us all undo
Wythin few dayes!
As sone as Glotony had espyde
All thys gere, he wold not abyde
But went even hys wayes.
Our mayster prayed hym to tary a season.
‘Nay, nay’, quod he, ‘now have I done,
I may no lengar tary,
For Age and I may not togeder dwell.’
And streyght way he departed fayre and well.
Bodyly Lust stode by

151

And saw that Glotony wold nedys be gon.
‘Have wyth the, Glotony’, quod he anon,
‘For I must go wyth the!’—
So that two be gon togeder!
Cam there none of theym both heder?

Envy
Never a one that I se.

Sensualyte
Well, they be gon some other way
To get a new mayster as sone as they may—
They can not be onpurveyd.
And as sone as they two were gon
Our mayster sent for Covetyse anon
And hartely hym prayd
To awayt on hym well for a yere or two,
And he hath promysed hym so to do
As for a yere or twayn—
But Reason may not therof know.

Envy
Reason, quod a? No, so I trow,
He wyll that dysdayn!
But where hath Covetyse ben many a day?

Sensualyte
He dwelled wyth a prest, as I herd say,
For he loveth well
Men of the chyrche, and they hym also,
And lawyars eke whan they may tend therto
Wyll folow hys counsell.

Envy
So men say there as I dwell.
But Sensualyte, canst thou tell
Now in thys case
What were best for us to do?

Sensualyte
Mary, I hold yt best that we go
Hereby to som place
And semble togeder all our cumpany
To here there myndys by and by
And every mannys opynyon
What shalbe best for to do.

Envy
By my trouth, and be yt so,
I hold yt well don.

Than they go forth and Reason and Man com in.
Reason
Syr, I have oft tymes you advysed
To lyve vertuously and shewd you the way,
And that not wythstandyng, ye have me dyspysed
And folowed Sensualyte meny a day.
Wyll ye so contynue, ye or nay?
If ever ye purpose your selfe to amend
It ys tyme, for your lyfe draweth fast to thend.


152

Man
I can not contynue though I wold,
For Age hath wayned me clene therfro.
And yet, Reason, whan ye me told
Of thys gere meny day ago
I thought lytell I shuld have com herto,
But had of your wordys great scorn and dysdayn.
Wold God that my lyfe were to bygyn agayn!

Reason
Speke not therof, that may not be!
A thyng don can not be called agayn.
But the thyng that most fereth me
On your behalve—I tell you playn—
Is that ye wold in no wyse abstayn
From synfull lustys as I wylled you to do
Tyll now that Age compelleth you therto.

Man
That ys full trew wythout faynyng!
As long as myne appetyte dyd endure
I folowed my lustys in every thyng,
Whyche now by the course and law of Nature
And not of my polycy or good endevoure
Is taken fro me for ever more,
And so can I deserve no mede therfore.
But not wythstandyng thys myne abusyon,
I trust that by the help of your good advyse
I may be made the chyld of salvacyon.

Reason
Yes, and ye wyll syr, on warantyse,
So that ye utterly forsake and dyspyse
All your old servauntys in wyll and dede
And do by my counsell.

Man
Yes, have ye no drede.

Reason
Than my soule for yours I lay to wed,
Ye shall do well, have ye no mystrust.
And fyrst, to begyn wyth, I you forbed
All maner of dyspeyre. And secundly, ye must
Put to your mynd and good wyll
To be recured of your great excesse,
For wythout your helpe yt can not be, doubtles,
As in thys example: yf so be the pacyent
Of hym selfe be wyllyng to have any remedy,
It ys a great furtheraunce to that intent
So that to the preceptys of physyk he apply.
And who so doth the contrary, no marvayll truely
Though he myskary. What shuld I bryng
Any mo examples for so playn a thyng?


153

Man
It shalbe no nede as in thys case.
I know ryght well what ye meane therby,
And that wyll I folow, by Godds grace.

Reason
Than as I told you, yt shalbe no maystry
Your selfe to confort and to have good remedy
Agaynst the great surfettys that thou hast don,
By whyche thou hast deserved endles dampnacyon.
But do as I shall tell the and have no drede,
And for to gyve the medycyns most accordyng
Ayens thy sores, do by my rede:
Loke what dysease ys hote and brennyng,
Take ever suche a medycyn as ys cold in werkyng,
So that the contrary in all maner of wyse
Must hele hys contrary, as physyk doth devyse.
Ryght so, who so lusteth fro syn to aryse,
Where he hath in pryde done any offence,
He can be holpen therof none other wyse
But onely by mekenes that ys the recompence.
Agayn wreth and envy take charyte and pacyence.
Take almes dede agayn the syn of covetyse,
And to represse glotyny acquaynt the wyth abstynence.
Agayn foull lust of body take chastyte and contynence.
Myche syn groweth by slouth and by idelnes,
And that must be eschewed by mene of good besynes.
Lo, thys be preparatyfys most soverayn
Agaynst thy sores whyche be mortall
Onles that thys medycyns to theym be layn.
Whan thou hast receyved these preparatyfys all,
I wyll com agayn yf thou me call
And order the further after my mynde.

Man
Ye, but where shall I these preparatyfys fynde?

Reason
Thou shalt theym fynde wythin thyn own brest:
Of the yt must com, yt must be thy dede,
For voluntary sacrafyce pleaseth God best.
Thou canst not therof have help or mede
But yf thys gere of thyn own hart procede.

Man
Well, I shall endevoure me to the uttermost,
And tyll I have found theym I shall never rest.
But how shall I know theym? That wote I nere!
I pray you shew me that byfore your departyng.

Reason
It nedeth not therof to enquere,
Thou shalt know theym at the fyrst metyng.
Of two contrarys there ys but one lernyng:
That ys to say, whan thou knowyst well that on,
The other contrary ys knowen anon.

Then he goeth out and Mekenes cometh in.

154

Mekenes
Who so woteth hystoryes of scrypture well
Shall fynde that for pryde and presumpcyon
Lucyfer, whyche somtyme was a gloryouse angell,
For that hys offence had suche correccyon
That both he and eke meny a legyon
Of hys order was cast down to hell
By ryghtfull justyce perpetually there to dwell.
Remember also Adam, the fyrst of our lyne,
What payn he sufferd for pryde and dysobedyence.
Causeth he not a great decay and ruyne
In all the progeny for the same offence
In suche wyse that he and all that were borne sence
Be utterly dysheryted and put fro paradyse?—
And so we be made thrall unto syn and vyce.
And lost shuld we be all of very justyce
Ne had be that God of hys mercyfull goodnes
Dyd us sone after wyth hys own blode maynpryce
And us redemed fro paynes endles,
So that we do not dysobay or transgresse
Hys hygh commaundementys but demean us well
After hys lawes whyle we here dwell.
And for as myche as mannys nature
Is frayll and lyghtly to syn wyll assent
Eyther of purpose or onwetyng peradventure,
There the sayd good Lord hath hym sent
Agayn every syn a remedy convenyent,
For he ne wold have one soule to be lore
Whom he hath dere bought, as I sayd byfore.
The rote of all syn ys Pryde, ye know well,
Whyche ys myne adversary in all that he may.
Where I am in place he may not dwell:
Hys malycyouse power I can ryght well alay
And teche every creature the remedy and way
How to subdue Pryde, whyche no man can do
Wythout that I, Mekenesse, must help therto.

Man
Than your help and counsell ys necessary to me,
Wherof I pray you wyth all hartys affeccyon.

Mekenes
All redy at hand, who so ever yt be
That lusteth to have me for hys consolacyon.

Man
I my selfe have synned in pryde and elacyon!
Shew me your counsell: what way shall I take
A dew satysfaccyon for that syn to make?


155

Mekenes
Thou must byfore all thyng set lytell pryse
By thyne own selfe, and take no hede
Whether the people do the prayse or dyspyse.
Be thou meke in hart, in word, and in dede.
Thynk not that thou woldyst any man overlede.
Be soft and lowly in speche to every wyght,
And use none aray that staryng ys to syght.
Lo, in these thre thyngys onely standeth pryde,
If thou commyt the lest of theym thre.

Man
Fro thys day forth I wyll set theym asyde
And folow the counsell that ye gyve me.

Mekenes
Do so, and I wyll clerely dyscharge the.
As for the syn of pryde, my soule for thyn,
Thou shalt be all hole yf thou take thys medycyn.

Than he goeth out.
Man
Yes, I shall take yt: thynk not the contrary!
Now am I well eased! Yet have I not done all.

[Charyte comes in.]
Charyte
There ys no lyvyng physycyon ne potecary
That can devyse so soverayn cordyall
Agayn the sore of envy, whyche ys mortall!
No man lyvyng, I you ensure,
Wythout my helpe may undertake that cure.
For I am called Charyte, the salve for that sekenes,
Whom thappostyll Paule commaundyth syngulerly
In dyvers hys epystellys. I can well represse
The rancour of envy and gyve therein good remedy.

Man
Than ys your counsell to me full necessary.
If ye be Charyte, ye are bound doubtles
To have som compassyon of your neyghbours dystres.

Charyte
Why, hast thou ben envyouse byfore thys day?

Man
Yes, as God knoweth well, and that I rew sore.

Charyte
Well, thys must be the remedy, mark what I say:
There ys no syn that dyspleaseth God more
Than doth thys syn of envy, and therfore,
If so be thou wylt thyn own soule savegard,
Be thou never envyouse fro thys day forward.
Also that syn ys to man onnaturall
More than any other in myne opynyon,
For all other synnes—mark therin well—
A man commyttyth wyth som delectacyon.
But Envy ys ever full of payn and passyon
And tormenteth hym selve wyth sorowfull sadnes
Whan he seeth hys neyghbours prosperyte or gladnes.

156

He ys never glad nor taketh any solace
But at hys neyghbours harme, losse, or hevynes.
He speketh somtyme fayre byfore a mannys face,
And yet wythin hys hart he ys full of doublenes,
For byhynd hys bak he wyll never sease
Wyth sclaunderouse wordys to appayre his good name,
And many a fals ly doth he report for the same.
Ye know, syr, whether yt be thus or no.
But now a nother whyle to speke of remedy—
If ye wyll be holpen, syr, thus must ye do:
Fyrst, byfore all thyngys love God entyerly.
Next that, thy neyghbour love as thyne own body.
That ys to say, thou must the to hym behave
And do hym such curtesy as thou woldyst of hym have.
Observe these two thyngys and do no more
In recompense of thy great trespace
Touchyng the syn of envy rehersed byfore.

Man
To observe theym well God send me hys grace,
And I thank you for your confort and counsell in thys case.
I shall my selfe endevoure accordyng therto.

Charyte
God send the hys grace well so to do.

Then he goeth out. [Pacyence comes in.]
Pacyence
The remedy of wreth and outragyouse yre
Must nedys com of me and none other wyse,
For I am called Pacyence, whyche quencheth the fyre
And flammys of wreth. Yt ys also my gyse
By soft wordys and sufferaunce to overcom myn enemys.

Man
Now welcom, Pacyence, for whom I have sought:
Help me with your counsell, for his love that all wrought.

Pacyence
Thys ys my counsell: yf thou wylt wythstand
Thy gostly enemy and thys temptacyon,
Thou must have me, Pacyence, ever redy at hand,
Specyally in sufferyng of worldly trybulacyon.
Remember how Cryst dyd in tyme of hys passyon:
There mayst thou lern how to be pacyent
In any adversyte that to the shalbe sent.
And yet there may be no comparyson
Bytwyxt the leste part of hys payn
And the gretest wrong that to the can be don.
Wherfore thou wreth shuldyst not dysdayn,
But gladly thou shuldyst thy selfe refrayn
From yrefull passyons as I sayd byfore,
Syth thou shalt have a reward in heven therfore.


157

Man
It ys my full mynde and intent
Hereafter to do as ye me advertyse.

Pacyence
Now he that all goodnes to us hath sent,
Send you hys grace to demean you that wyse.

Then he goeth out.
Man
I shall do my good wyll, on warantyse.
Now who can me best dyrecte
My slouthfull idelnes for to correct?

[Good Occupacyon comes in.]
Good Occupacyon
The syn of slouth I can well represse,
And I shall teche the to do the same.

Man
How shuld I do yt?

Good Occupacyon
By mean of me, Good Besynes,
And so am I called for that ys my name.
Idelnes ys never wythout syn or blame:
By mean therof myche syn cometh in,
For yt ys the very moder and maysters of syn.
In eschewyng therof thou must ever use
Som good occupacyon in body or mynde.
And yf thou do thys my counsell refuse
So that the devyll in idelnes the fynde,
Than accordyng to hys propertye and kynde
He laboreth fast by mean of temptacyon
To bryng thy soule unto endles dampnacyon.
Therfore do som good occupacyon alway
As well wyth the body as wyth mynde inward,
And yf thou do not thys counsell obay
Thou shalt thyn own soule gretely enjobard.
On that other syde, thou mayst be no coward
Nor ferefull of penaunce or other good dede,
Syth thou shalt be sure to have heven to thy mede.

Man
Thys counsell ys good, I thank you therfore—
My mynde ys well eased, therein be ye sure.

Good Occupacyon
Is there any thyng ellys that I can do more?

Man
None, to my knowledge, for ye have done your cure.

Good Occupacyon
Se that ye wysely now put in ure.

Then he goeth out.
Man
Yes hardely, thynk not the contrary,
Syth yt ys to me so behovefull and necessary.

[Lyberalyte comes in.]

158

Lyberalyte
I am Lyberalyte, the vertu cardynall
By whom ys confounded the syn of avaryce.
Who so ever lusteth on me to call,
I am redy therin to gyve mynde advyse.

Man
Syr, I pray you in my most harty wyse,
Helpe to reforme and order my mynde,
For the syn of avaryce hath made me full blynde.

Lyberalyte
Fyrst thou must be sory for the abusyng
Of temporall goodys byfore thys day.
Next that, I wyll advyse the byfore all thyng,
If thou hast wrongfully taken away
Any mannys good, go wythout delay
And therof to thy power make due restytucyon,
For erst shalt thou have of thy syn no remyssyon.

Man
Why, trowe ye that I shall not be excused
By almes dede of that offense?

Lyberalyte
No, no, hardely, thou art gretely abused!
Thynk not therby to make recompence,
For by that almes thou doyst great offense
And dyspleasure to God.

Man
Why say ye so?
Cryst hym selfe bad that we shuld almes do.

Lyberalyte
Ye, for God, but that shuld be do
Of well goten goodys, ellys ys yt nought.

Man
Well, I assent gladly therto—
As in that one poynt I am fully taught.
Wyt ys nothyng worth tyll yt be dere bought!
But what other amendys shall I make
The foull syn of avaryce to swage and aslake?

Lyberalyte
Thou must have compassyon and also be lyberall
Unto thy neyghbour at hys necessyte.

Man
I trow ye wold have me to gyve away all
And leve my selfe nought!

Lyberalyte
I mene not so parde,
For that ys wast and synfull prodygalyte.
Take the myd way bytwyxt theym two,
And fle thextremytees how so ever thou do.
Thou must thy worldly goodys so employ
In charytable dedys wyth due compassyon,
That thou mayst bye everlastynge joy
For the good intent of that dystrybucyon.
Thou mayst also gyve theym to thy dampnacyon,
As whan thou doyst yt to wyn therby
Praysyng of the people or som other vayn glory.

159

For trust yt well, thou must geve a rekenyng
Of all the goodys that com to thyn use.
The hygh juge that knoweth all thyng,
To whom thou shalt thy selfe accuse
Wythout any appele or fayned excuse,
He wyll be thyn audytour in thys case,
Fro whom thou canst not hyde thy face.
There shalt thou openly shew and confesse
How that goodys cam to thy possessyon,
What mynde and pleasure thou hadyst in ryches,
And why thou hadyst therin suche affeccyon,
What almes dede or other good dystrybucyon,
Or how thou hast these goodys wasted or abused—
There yt shalbe knowen, yt can not be refused.
Than, as I sayd to the byfore,
Thou shalt receyve after thy deservyng
Joy or ellys payn to endure ever more.

Man
Truely thys ys a ferefull thyng.

Lyberalyte
Therfore remember well my sayeng,
Mark well my counsell, and folow the same.

Man
If I dyd not, I were gretely to blame.

Then Lyberalyte goeth out and Abstynence and Chastyte com in.
Abstynence
The remedy of glotony I can well teche—
I am ordeyned onely for that intent.

Man
And I have great nede of suche a leche:
Your counsell to me ys ryght expedyent.

Abstynence
Syr, yf ye lust to be my pacyent
And take suche remedy as I shall devyse,
I shall make you hole of that syn, on warantyse.

Man
What ys your name?

Abstynence
My name ys Abstynence,
And thys other that cometh wyth me
Is called Chastyte or ellys Contynence.
It ys hys gyse and hys properte
To folow me where so ever I be
Lykewyse as lychery, that dedely sore,
Foloweth the bestly syn of glotony evermore:
Quia delitie sunt instrumenta voluptatis.
But now to do that I cam for—
Agayn the syn of glotony the remedy ys thys:
Use scarcer dyet than thou dyddyst byfore,
Beware of superfluyte and surfet ever more,
Take no more than suffyceth nature,
Nor of delycate mete set thou no store.
Now have I sayd all that longeth to my cure.


160

Chastyte
And I must nedys conferme hys sayeng,
For as he rehersed now ryght well,
Gluttyng of hote metys and delycate fedyng
Causeth synfull lustys in a man to swell.
And over that, thys ys my counsell:
Eschew idelnes byfore all thyng
If thou wylt be chast and clene of lyvyng.
Fle also the cumpany and the occasyon
Of that syn, whyche ys dampnable:
As sone as thou felest any temptacyon,
Put yt clene away by meanes covenable.
Of all other synnys yt ys most abhomynable
And sonest wyll thy soule endaunger and blame,
There be so many great synnys annexed to the same.
If thou lyst not for fere of dampnacyon
Thys syn to forbere, than on that other syde
Do yt for love of thyn own salvacyon:
Thynk what rewardys in heven doth the abyde
Whyche yf thou lyve chast can not be denyde.
My wyt suffyseth not to tell and expresse
What joy thou shalt have for thy chast clennes.

Man
I thank you both for your advyse,
And now wold I speke wyth Repentaunce fayn.

Abstynence
I can bryng you to hym on the best wyse.

Man
Than wyll I awayt uppon you twayn,
And after that I wyll com hyder agayn,
Trustyng that God wyll send me the grace
To comfort my soule wyth gostly solace.

Than they [all three] go out and Reason comyth in.
Reason
I here say, to my great joy and gladnes,
That accordyng to my counsell and advyse
Thys mortall creature doth well hys besynes
To correct and forsake all hys old vyce,
And that he ys in good way and lykely to aryse
From the vale of syn whyche ys full of derknes
Toward the contemplacyon of lyght that ys endles.
Lo syrs, are not we all myche behold
To our Maker for hys great pacyence,
Whyche not wythstandyng our synnes manyfold
Wherein we dayly do to hym offence,
Yet of hys mercyfull and great magnyfycence
He doth not punyshe as sone as we offende
But suffereth in hope that we wyll amend.

161

He suffereth a synner sometyme to endure
A long lyfe in honour and great prosperyte:
It ys a thyng that dayly ys put in ure,
And meny a great daunger escapeth he
Where good men peryshe—thys may ye se—
And all bycause that he wold hym wyn
And have hym to tourne and forsake hys syn.
[Man comes in.]
O, here cometh he that I loke fore:
Syr, have ye done as I wylled you to do?

Man
Ye, that have I don, and what trow ye more?
I have ben wyth Repentaunce also,
Whyche fro my hart shall never go,
For he brought me unto Confessyon,
And anon I was acquaynted with Hartys Contrycyon.
They advysed and charged me to do satysfaccyon,
And so have I don to my best power.

Reason
Than art thou fully the chyld of salvacyon!
Have good perseveraunce, and be not in fere:
Thy gostly enemy can put the in no daunger,
And greter reward thou shalt therfore wyn
Than he that never in hys lyfe dyd syn.
And to thentent that thou mayst well
Persever and contynue in thys sure way,
Or we depart hens, by my counsell,
Let us by one accord togeder syng and pray
Wyth as humble devocyon as we can or may
That we may have grace from syn thus to ryse
As often as we fall, and let us pray thys wyse.

Then they syng some goodly ballet.