 | The Bowers and Flecchers |  |
[Scene I
Hall in the High Priest's palace.]
1.
Cayp.
PEES, bewshers, I bid no jangelyng ȝe make,
And sese sone of youre sawes, & se what I saye,
And trewe tente vnto me þis tyme þat ȝe take,
For I am a lorde lerned lelly in youre lay;
By connyng of clergy and casting of witte
Full wisely my wordis I welde at my will,
So semely in seete me semys for to sitte,
And þe lawe for to lerne you and lede it by skill.
What wyte so will oght with me
Full frendly in feyth am I foune right sone;
Come of, do tyte, late me see
Howe graciously I schall graunte hym his bone.
And sese sone of youre sawes, & se what I saye,
And trewe tente vnto me þis tyme þat ȝe take,
For I am a lorde lerned lelly in youre lay;
By connyng of clergy and casting of witte
Full wisely my wordis I welde at my will,
So semely in seete me semys for to sitte,
And þe lawe for to lerne you and lede it by skill.
What wyte so will oght with me
Full frendly in feyth am I foune right sone;
Come of, do tyte, late me see
Howe graciously I schall graunte hym his bone.
255
2.
Ther is nowder lorde ne lady lerned in þe lawe,
Ne Bisshoppe ne prelate þat preued is for pris,
Nor clerke in þe courte þat connyng will knawe,
With wisdam may were hym in worlde is so wise.
I haue þe renke and þe rewle of all þe ryall,
To rewle it by right als reasoune it is,
All domesmen on dese awe for to dowte me,
That hase thaym in bandome in bale or in blis,
Wherfore takes tente to my tales and lowtis vnto me.
And therfore, sir knyghtis,
I charge you chalange youre rightis,
To wayte both be day and by nyghtis
Of the bringyng of a boy in-to bayle.
Ne Bisshoppe ne prelate þat preued is for pris,
Nor clerke in þe courte þat connyng will knawe,
With wisdam may were hym in worlde is so wise.
I haue þe renke and þe rewle of all þe ryall,
To rewle it by right als reasoune it is,
All domesmen on dese awe for to dowte me,
That hase thaym in bandome in bale or in blis,
Wherfore takes tente to my tales and lowtis vnto me.
And therfore, sir knyghtis,
I charge you chalange youre rightis,
To wayte both be day and by nyghtis
Of the bringyng of a boy in-to bayle.
3.
i Miles.Yis, lorde, we schall wayte if any wonderes walke,
And freyne howe youre folkis fare þat are furth ronne.
ii Miles.
We schall be bayne at youre bidding and it not to balke,
Yf þei presente you þat boy in a bande boune.
Anna.
Why syr? and is þer a boy þat will noght lowte to youre biding?
Cayph.
Ya, sir, and of þe coriousenesse of þat karle þer is carping;
But I haue sente for þat segge halfe for hethyng.
Anna.
What wondirfull werkis workis þat wighte?
Cayph.
Seke men and sori he sendis siker helyng,
And to lame men and blynde he sendis þer sight;
Of croked crepillis þat we knawe,
Itt is to here grete wondering,
How þat he helis þame all on rawe,
And all thurgh his false happenyng.
And to lame men and blynde he sendis þer sight;
Of croked crepillis þat we knawe,
Itt is to here grete wondering,
How þat he helis þame all on rawe,
And all thurgh his false happenyng.
256
4.
I am sorie of a sight
Þat egges me to ire,
Oure lawe he brekis with all his myght,
Þat is moste his desire.
Oure Sabott day he will not safe,
But is aboute to bringe it downe,
And therfore sorowe muste hym haue;
May he be kacched in felde or towne,
For his false stevyn!
He defamys fowly þe godhed,
And callis hym selffe God sone of hevene.
Þat egges me to ire,
Oure lawe he brekis with all his myght,
Þat is moste his desire.
Oure Sabott day he will not safe,
But is aboute to bringe it downe,
And therfore sorowe muste hym haue;
May he be kacched in felde or towne,
For his false stevyn!
He defamys fowly þe godhed,
And callis hym selffe God sone of hevene.
5.
Anna.I haue goode knowlache of þat knafe,
Marie me menys, his modir highte,
And Joseph his fadir, as god me safe,
Was kidde and knowen wele for a wrighte.
But o thyng me mervayles mekill ouere all,
Of diuerse dedis þat he has done.
Cayph.
With wicche-crafte he fares with-all,
Sir, þat schall ȝe se full sone.
Oure knyghtis þai are furth wente
To take hym with a traye,
By þis I holde hym shente,
He can not wende away.
6.
Anna.Wolde ȝe, sir, take youre reste,
This day is comen on hande,
And with wyne slake youre thirste?
Þan durste I wele warande,
Ye schulde haue tithandis sone
Of þe knyghtis þat are gone,
And howe þat þei haue done
To take hym by a trayne;
And putte all þought away,
And late youre materes reste.
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I will do as ȝe saie,
Do gettte vs wyne of þe best.
7.
i Miles.My lorde! here is wyne/Þat will make you to wynke,
Itt is licoure full delicious,/My lorde, and you like,
Wherfore I rede drely/A draughte þat ȝe drynke,
For in þis contre, þat we knawe,/I wisse ther is none slyke.
Wherfore we counsaile you
This cuppe sauerly for to kisse.
Cayph.
Do on dayntely, and dresse me on dees,
And hendely hille on me happing,
And warne all wightis to be in pees,
For I am late layde vnto napping.
[Lies down to sleep.
Anna.
My lorde with youre leue,
And it like you, I passe.
[Exit.
Cayph.
A diew, be unte,
As þe manere is.
[Sleeps.
| The Bowers and Flecchers | |