"Everyman," with other interludes, including eight miracle plays

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[Illustration: POETS ARE THE TRUMPETS WHICH SING TO BATTLE POETS ARE THE UNACKNOWLEDGED LEGISLATORS OF THE WORLD

Shelley]

"Everyman"

WITH OTHER INTERLUDES, including EIGHT MIRACLE PLAYS

[Illustration: EVERY MAN I WILL GO WITH THEE BE THY GVIDE IN THY MOST NEED TO GO BY THY SIDE]

LONDON: PUBLISHED by J. M. DENT & SONS LTD. AND IN NEW YORK BY E. P. DUTTON & CO

First Issue of this Edition 1909 Reprinted 1910, 1912, 1914

Introduction

By craftsmen and mean men, these pageants are played, And to commons and countrymen accustomably before: If better men and finer heads now come, what can be said?

The pageants of the old English town-guilds, and the other mysteries and interludes that follow, have still an uncommon reality about them if we take them in the spirit in which they were originally acted. Their office as the begetters of the greater literary drama to come, and their value as early records, have, since Sharp wrote his _Dissertation on the Coventry Mysteries_ in 1816, been fully illustrated. But they have hardly yet reached the outside reader who looks for life and not for literary origins and relations in what he reads. This is a pity, for these old plays hide under their archaic dress the human interest that all dramatic art, no matter how crude, can claim when it is touched with our real emotions and sensations. They are not only a primitive religious drama, born of the church and its feasts; they are the genuine expression of the town life of the English people when it was still lived with some exuberance of spirits and communal pleasure. As we read them, indeed, though it be in cold blood, we are carried out of our book, and set in the street or market-square by the side of the "commons and countrymen," as in the day when Whitsuntide, or Corpus Christi, brought round the annual pageantry to Chester, Coventry, York, and other towns.

Of the plays that follow, six come from the old town pageants, reflecting in their variety the range of subject and the contemporary effect of the cycles from which they are taken. They are all typical, and show us how the scenes and characters of the east were mingled with the real life of the English craftsmen and townsfolk who acted them, and for whose pleasure they were written. Yet they give us only a small notion of the whole interest and extent of these plays. We gain an idea of their popularity both from the number of them given in one town and the number of places at which regular cycles, or single pageants, were represented from year to year. The York plays alone that remain are forty-eight in all; the Chester, twenty-four or five; the Wakefield, thirty-two or three. Even these do not represent anything like the full list. Mr. E. K. Chambers, in an appendix to his _Mediæval Stage_, gives a list of eighty-nine different episodes treated in one set or another of the English and Cornish cycles. Then as to the gazette of the many scattered places where they had a traditional hold: Beverley had a cycle of thirty-six; Newcastle-on-Tyne and Norwich, each one of twelve; while the village and parochial plays were almost numberless. In Essex alone the list includes twenty-one towns and villages, though it is fair to add that this was a specially enterprising shire. At Lydd and New Romney, companies of players from fourteen neighbouring towns and villages can be traced in the local records that stretch from a year or so before, to eight years after, the fifteenth century.

Mrs. J. R. Green, in her history of _Town Life_ in that century, shows us how the townspeople mixed their workday and holiday pursuits, their serious duties with an apparent "incessant round of gaieties." Hardly a town but had its own particular play, acted in the town hall or the parish churchyard, "the mayor and his brethren sitting in state." In 1411 there was a great play, _From the Beginning of the World_, played in London at the Skinner's Well. It lasted seven days continually, and there were the most part of the lords and gentles of England. No copy of this play exists, but of its character we have a pretty sensible idea from various other plays of the Creation handed down from the north-country cycles. In the best of them the predestined Adam is created after a fashion both to suggest his treatment by Giotto in the medallion at Florence, and his lineaments as an English mediæval prototype:--

"But now this man that I have made, With the ghost of life, I make him glad, Rise up, Adam, rise up rade,[1] A man full of soul and life!"

But to surprise the English mediæval smith or carpenter, cobbler or bowyer, when he turns playgoer at Whitsuntide, assisting at a play which expressed himself as well as its scriptural folk, we must go on to later episodes. The Deluge in the Chester pageant, that opens the present volume, has among its many Noah's Ark sensations, some of them difficult enough to mimic on the pageant-wagon, a typical recall of the shipwright and ark-builder. God says to Noah:--

A ship soon thou shalt make thee of trees, dry and light. Little chambers therein thou make, And binding pitch also thou take, Within and out, thou ne slake To anoint it thro' all thy might.

In the York Noah's Ark pageant, which seems to be the parent-play in England of all its kind, we have this craftsman's episode much enlarged. "Make it of boards," God says, "and wands between!"

Thus thriftily and not over thin, Look that thy seams be subtly seen And nailéd well, that they not twin: Thus I devised it should have been; Therefore do forth, and leave thy din

Then, after further instructions, Noah begins to work before the spectators, first rough-hewing a plank, then trying it with a line, and joining it with a gynn or gin. He says:--

More subtilely can no man _sew_;[2] It shall be clinched each ilk and deal, With nails that are both noble and new, Thus shall I fix it to the keel: Take here a rivet, and there a screw, With there bow,[3] there now, work I well, This work, I warrant both good and true.

To complete the pedigree of this scene we must turn to the old poem, the "Cursor Mundi," which, written in the fourteenth century, the time when the northern miracle-plays were taking decisive shape, appears to have served their writers as a stock-book. The following passage is own brother to that in the York miracle-play:--

A ship must thou needs dight, Myself shall be the master-wright. I shall thee tell how broad and long, Of what measure and how strong. When the timber is fastened well, Wind the sides ever each and deal. Bind it first with balk and band, And wind it then too with good wand. With pitch, look, it be not thin! Plaster it well without and in!

The likeness we see is startling: so near to the other indeed as to suggest almost a common authorship.

As for the pastoral plays in the same towns, we find the shepherds and countrymen were just as well furnished with rough cuts from the life. The most real and frankly illustrative, and by no means the least idyllic of them is perhaps the Chester play of the three shepherds. It was not played by countrymen but by townsmen, like the other plays in the town cycles, being in this case the "Paynters and Glasiors" play. The first shepherd who opens it talks of the "bower" or cote he would build, his "sheep to shield," his "seemly wethers to save:"--

From comely Conway unto Clyde Under tyldes[4] them to hide A better shepherd on no side No earthly man may have For with walking weary I have methought Beside thee such my sheep I sought My long-tail'd tups are in my thought Them to save and heal

In the _Death of Abel_, another Chester play, Cain comes in with a plough, and says:--

A tiller I am, and so will I be, As my daddy hath taught it me I will fulfil his lore

In the subsequent incident of the corn that Cain is to offer for his sacrifice, we hear the plain echo of the English farmer's voice in the corn-market mixing with the scriptural verse: "This standing corn that was eaten by beasts," will do:

God, thou gettest no better of me, Be thou never so grim

So throughout the plays the folk-life of their day, their customs and customary speech, are for ever emerging from the biblical scene.

In trying to realise how the miracle-plays were mounted and acted, we shall find the best witness at Chester. This was a rather late one. Archdeacon Rogers, who saw them in 1594, when they had been going on for something like three centuries in all. From his account (in the _Harleian Miscellany_) it appears the Chester plays were given on Whit-Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

"The manner of these plays were, every company had his pageant or part, a high scaffold with two rooms, a higher and a lower, upon four wheels. In the lower they apparelled themselves, and in the higher room they played, being all open on the top, that all beholders might hear and see them." They were played, he goes on to say, in every street:

"They began first at the abbey gates, and when the first pageant was played, it was wheeled to the high cross before the mayor, and so to every street. So every street had a pageant playing before it at one time, till all the pageants for the day appointed were played. When one pageant was near ended, word was brought from street to street, that so they might come in place thereof, exceeding orderly, and all the streets have their pageants before them, all at one time playing together, to see which plays was great resort and also scaffolds and stages made in the streets in those places where they determined to play their pageants."

The same writer explains elsewhere that these plays were divided into twenty-four pageants, according to the number of the city companies, and that each company brought out its own pageant.

At York, whose plays Miss L. Toulmin Smith edited in 1887, we can turn to Davies's two books[5] and the local records, to complete the Chester description. Those who travel to York by rail to-day, and there dismount, as most of us have often done, to walk through the city to the cathedral, will be interested to find that the railway station now stands where once was Pageant Green. Near it was formerly another kind of station, where stood the houses hired to keep the pageants stored and put away from one year's show to another. The word "pageant," (_pagina_, or plank), we ought to recall, was used for the stage, or wheeled car of two stories, before it was used for the show set forth upon it. Davies helps us, as we perambulate York to-day, to mark where the old pageants were performed in 1399, at twelve stations, which were fixed and stated beforehand. The first station was at the gates of the Priory of the Holy Trinity in Mickle Gate, and the pageants were moved on them in turn to places at Skelder Gate end, North Street, Conyng Strete, Stane Gate and the gates of the Minster, so to the end of Girdler Gate; while the last of all was "upon the pavement." But the stations were subject to change, and there was much competition among wealthy householders (one of whom may have been the Robert Harpham mentioned in a 1417 list) to have the pageant played before their windows. The highest bidder gained the coveted right.

Before the actual day came, a town-crier was sent round the city to proclaim the "banes" or banns.[6] Arms were forbidden: "We command that no man go armed in this city with swords ne with carlill-axes, in disturbance of the king's peace and the play, or hindering of the procession of Corpus Christi, and that they leave their harness in their inns, saving knights and squires of worship that ought to have swords borne after them!" The plays began betimes. We read that at York the players were to be ready "at the mid-hour betwixt the IVth and Vth of the clock in the morning." Finally, for the players themselves, care was taken to secure good ones for the several parts. Sometimes a player doubled or trebled the characters in a particular play.

All through the XIVth and XVth centuries miracle-plays went on being performed regularly, or irregularly, in most of the English towns and larger villages. One of the smaller cycles was that of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, played at Corpus Christi, from 1426 onwards. _The Three Kings of Cologne_ is mentioned in 1536, which the goldsmiths, plumbers, glaziers, and others were to play. Here the pageants were not movable ones, but were given at fixed points. No doubt some of the spots associated with the Whitsuntide "shuggy-shows" (as I remember them in my time) were originally show-grounds of the town pageants too. Only one play of the Newcastle series has survived, and that fitly enough, having regard to the Tyneside shipbuilding, is a shipwrights' play. Unluckily it has been so modernised that not a vestige of the local colour or Tyneside dialect remains.

We come now to the date and origin of these town pageants. Of the three chief cycles earliest mention is to be found at Chester, and it carries us doubtfully back to 1268. Sir John Arnway was mayor in that year, according to one account: but the name recurs pretty positively in 1327-8, and about that time Randall Higgenet, a monk of Chester Abbey, wrote the plays. But in the text handed down they are of a much later style of diction, and no doubt later in date than the Towneley or York series.

About the real origin of these plays there can be no question. They began in the churches as liturgy plays, which were given at the Christmas, Easter, and other festivals, illustrating in chief the birth, life, death and passion of Christ. We owe to Professor Skeat the recovery of some fragments of liturgical plays in Latin, which have been reprinted by Professor Manly, in his _Specimens of the Pre-Shaksperean Drama_. The earliest example there is may be dated as early as 967, an important landmark for us, as it is often assumed that we have no dramatic record of any kind in these islands earlier than the Norman Conquest. Another generation or two of research, such as the pioneer work of Dr. Furnivall and the Early English Text Society has made possible, and we shall distinguish clearly the two lines of growth, French and Norman, English and Saxon, by which the town-pageants and folk-plays of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries came to a head. Then the grafting of the English pastoral on the church-play, after it had been carried out into the open town or market-place, may become clear. Then, too, one will know how charged with potential dramatic life was the mind of him who wrote that interlude in four lines of the "Three Queens and the Three Dead Men," which contains in it the essence of a thousand moralities.

_1st Queen._ I am afeard.

_2nd Queen._ Lo, what I see?

_3rd Queen._ Me thinketh it be devils three!

_1st Dead Body._ I was well fair

_2nd Dead Body._ Such shall thou be.

_3rd Dead Body._ For Godes love, be-ware by me!

These breathe, not a Norman, but an Anglo-Saxon fantasy, and they speak for themselves. But many tell-tale documents exist to mark the concurrent Norman and English development that went on in the English mediæval literature, and was seen and felt in the church and guild plays, just as it went on in the towns themselves. It finds at last its typical expression in an interlude like the Coventry Nativity-play, reprinted in this volume. Long before the miracle-play was written in the form it finally took, and about the time when William of Rouen, after much trouble with his son Robert culminating at the battle of Gerberoi, was about to return to England, the new opening in the church in this country became one to tempt poor foreign students of some parts and some ambition. Among these was a graduate of the University of Paris, one Geoffrey, known to us now as Geoffrey of St. Albans. He had been offered the post of master of the abbey school at that place, but when he arrived after some delay--due perhaps to his going to see a mystery play at Paris--he found the post filled up. He then made his way to Dunstable, and while there proved his spirit by getting up a miracle-play of "Sancta Katarina." He borrowed copes from St. Albans in which to dress the actors; unluckily a fire took place, and the costumes were burnt. Thereupon he seems to have rendered himself up as it were in pious pledge for their loss, for he became a monk. In 1119 he was elected abbot, and if we give him about twenty-one years in which to rise to that dignity, we can date the St. Katharine play at 1098 or 9. This passage in a life of that time is a clue to the further history of the religious play in England. Geoffrey's attempt to present one at Dunstable, no doubt a reproduction of one he had seen in France, is an instance of the naturalisation process that slowly went on.

The distinct break in the history of the miracle-play that made it from a church into a town pageant occurred about the close of the thirteenth century. From a performance within the church building it went on then into the church-yard, or the adjoining close or street, and so into the town at large. The clerics still kept a hand in its purveyance; but the rise of the town guilds gave it a new character, a new relation to the current life, and a larger equipment. The friendly rivalry between the guilds, and the craftsmen's pride in not being outdone by other crafts, helped to stimulate the town play, till at length the elaborate cycle was formed that began with sunrise on a June morning, and lasted until the torch-bearers were called out at dusk to stand at the foot of the pageant.

The earliest miracle-plays that we can trace in the town cycles date back to the early years of Edward III. The last to be performed in London, according to Prynne, was _Christ's Passion_, which was given in James I.'s reign. It was produced "at Ely House, Holborn, when Gundomar lay there on Good Friday at night, at which there were thousands present." This was a late survivor, however, called to life by a last flicker of court sunshine on the occasion of the state visit of a Spanish ambassador. Here is an extreme range of over three centuries; and the old religious drama was still being performed in a more and more uncertain and intermittent fashion all through the dramatic reign of Shakspeare.

The ten plays that follow in this volume represent in brief the late remnant of this early drama, rescued at the point where it was ending its primitive growth, soon to give way to plays written with a consciously artistic sense of the stage. They are headed by the great and simple tragic masterpiece, in which they say their last word: the morality of _Everyman_, the noblest interlude of death the religious imagination of the middle ages has given to the stage. The two following Old Testament plays, _The Deluge_ and the _Sacrifice of Isaac_, are the third and fourth pageants in the Chester series; played respectively by the Water-Leaders and Drawers of the river Dee, and by the Barbers and Wax-Chandlers. The next is from Coventry, a Nativity play, played by the Shearmen and Tailors. From the Wakefield series, preserved in the Towneley collection, we have three plays, the famous second shepherds' play, with the _Crucifixion_ and the _Harrowing of Hell_, or extraction of souls from Hell (_Extractio Animarum ab Inferno_). Two Cornish mysteries of the Resurrection are included: _The Three Maries at the Tomb_, and _Mary Magdalen bringing the News to the Apostles_. Then follows Bishop Bale's oracular play of _God's Promises_, which is in effect a series of seven interludes strung on one thread, united by one leading idea, and one protagonist, the _Pater Cœlestis_.

In these religious and moral interludes, the dramatic colouring, however crude, is real and sincere. The humours of a broad folk-comedy break through the scriptural web continually in the guild plays like those in which Noah the shipbuilder, or the proverbial three shepherds, appear in the pageant. Noah's unwilling wife in the Chester _Deluge_, and Mak's canny wife in the Wakefield shepherd's play, where the sheep-stealing scenes reveal a born Yorkshire humorist, offer a pair of gossips not easy to match for rude comedy. Mak's wife, like the shepherd's in the same pastoral, utters proverbs with every other breath: "A woman's avyse helpys at the last!" "So long goys the pott to the water, at last comys it home broken!"

Now in hot, now in cold, Full woeful is the household, That wants a woman!

And her play upon the old north-country asseveration, "I'll eat my bairn,"--

If ever I you beguiled, That I eat this child That lies in this cradle,

(the child being the stolen sheep), must have caused towns-folk and country-folk outrageous laughter. Mak's wife is indeed memorable in her way as the Wife of Bath, Dame Quickly, or Mrs. Gamp.

There is nothing so boldly drawn in the Coventry _Nativity_. But there you have a startlingly realistic treatment joined to an emotional lyricism of the simplest charm:

Neither in halls, nor yet in bowers, Born would he not be Neither in castles, nor yet in towers That seemly were to see.

and--

As I outrode this enderes night Of three jolly shepherds, I saw a sight; And all about their fold a star shone bright, They sang "Terli, terlow!" So merrily the shepherds their pipes can blow.

In this Coventry play we have nearly all the ingredients--foreign, liturgical, or homely English--of the composite miracle play brought together. It bears traces of many hands; and betrays in the dialogue of the formal characters the rubricated lines of the church play on which it was based. The chief characters live, move and act their recognised parts with the certainty of the folk in a nursery tale. Herod out-Herods himself with a Blunderbore extravagance:--

I am the cause of this great light and thunder; It is through my fury that they such noise do make. My fearful countenance, the clouds so doth incumber That oftentimes for dread thereof, the very earth doth quake.

"Fee, fi, fo, fum!" might be the refrain of this giant's litany. The other types are as plainly stamped. The shepherd's are from the life, and contrast well with the stilted and rather tiresome prophets. The scenes at the babe's crib when the offerings are made of the shepherds' pipe, old hat, and mittens, are both droll and tender.

The tragic counterparts of these scenes are those where the Three Executioners work their pitiless task to an end at the Crucifixion, or where the Three Maries go to the grave afterwards in the Cornish mystery, or where Isaac bids his father bind his eyes that he shall not see the sword. It was for long the fashion to say, as Sir Walter Scott did, that these plays had little poetic life, or human interest in them. But they are, at their best, truly touched with essential emotions, with humour, terror, sorrow, pity, as the case may be. Dramatically they are far more alive at this moment, than the English drama of the mid-nineteenth century.

In the Cornish mysteries we lose much by having to use a translation. But something of the spirit and life survive in spite of it, and one detached passage from another of the plays, that of the _Crucifixion_, is printed in the appendix, which loses nothing by being compared with the treatment in other miracle-plays. Also in the Appendix will be found an interesting note from Norris's _Ancient Cornish Drama_, on the mode in which the Cornish mysteries were played; and a brief account by Mr. Jenner of the trilogy contained in that work.

There remains John Bayle's play of _God's Promises_. Its author was born at the sea-doomed city of Dunwich in Suffolk, in 1495. Destined for the church, he showed his obstinacy early by marrying in defiance of his cloth. He was lucky and unlucky in being a _protégé_ of Thomas Cromwell, and had to fly the country on that dangerous agent's death. He returned when the new order was established, and became Bishop of Ossory, had to suffer and turn exile for his tenets again in Mary's reign; but found safe harbourage for his latter years at Canterbury, where he died. He wrote, on his own evidence, more than twenty plays, of which _God's Promises_, the _Life of John the Baptist_, and _King John_, a history play of interest as a pioneer, are best known. He himself called _God's Promises_ a tragedy, but unless the sense of Sodom hanging in the balance, while Abraham works down to its lowest point the diminishing ratio of the just to be found there, or of David's appearing before the Pater Cœlestis as the great judge, of dramatic or tragic emotion there is little indeed. But Bayle's rhetoric easily ran to the edge of suspense, as in the opening of his seventh act, where he puts the dramatic question in the last line:--

I have with fearcenesse mankynde oft tymes corrected, And agayne I have allured hym by swete promes. I have sent sore plages, when he hath me neglected, And then by and by, most confortable swetnes. To wynne hym to grace, bothe mercye and ryghteousnes I have exercysed, yet wyll he not amende. Shall I now lose hym, or shall I hym defende?

And what could be finer than the setting he gives to the antiphon, _O Oriens Splendor_, at the end of the second act?

To turn from Bayle's play to the heart-breaking realities of _Everyman_ is like turning from a volume of all too edifying sermons to the last chapters of one of the gospels. Into the full history of this play, opening a difficult question about the early relations between Dutch and English writers and printers, there is no room here to go. The Dutch _Everyman_--_Elckerlijk_--was in all probability the original of the English, and it was certainly printed a few years earlier. Richard Pynson, who first imprinted the English play at the Sign of the George in Fleet Street, was printing at his press there from the early years of the sixteenth century. The play itself may have been written, and first performed, in English, as in Dutch, a generation or more before.

It was written, no doubt, like most of the plays in this volume, by a churchman; and he must have been a man of profound imagination, and of the tenderest human soul conceivable. His ecclesiastical habit becomes clear enough before the end of the play, where he bids Everyman go and confess his sins. Like many of the more poignant scenes and passages in the miracle-plays that follow it, this morality too leaves one exclaiming on how good a thing was the plain English of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.

The relation of the several miracle-plays here printed to the town-cycles from which they come will be seen at a glance on reference to the tables of pageants that appear in the Appendix. We may take it that all these town and country plays represent continually used and frequently tinkered texts, that must in some cases have passed through many piecemeal changes. In making them easy to the average reader of to-day, who takes the place of the mediæval playgoer at a Corpus Christi festival, their latest copyists have but followed in the wake of a series of Tudor scribes who renewed the prompt-books from time to time. In this process, apart from the change of spelling, the smallest possible alteration has been made consistent with the bringing of the text to a fair modern level of intelligibility. Old words that have been familiarised in Malory or Shakespeare, or the Bible, or in the Border Ballads and north-country books, or in Walter Scott, or the modern dialect of Yorkshire, are usually allowed to stand, and words needed to keep the rhyme, are left intact. But really hard words, likely to delay the reader, are glossed. One Towneley play, the _Extractio Animarum_, another and a most spirited example of the "Harrowing of Hell," mysteries that thrilled the people long ago, is given in the original spelling, as some test of the change effected in the others. Further, in the Appendix will be found a late example of a _St. George and the Dragon_ doggerel Christmas play, which comes from Cornwall, and which in a slightly varying form has been played in many shires, from Wessex to Tyneside, within living memory. This shows us the last state of the traditional mystery, and the English folk-play as it became when it was left to the village wits and playwrights to produce it, without any co-operation from the trained eye and hand of a parson or a learned clerk. Of some other forms of our earlier drama, not omitting the Welsh interludes of Twm o'r Nant, it may be possible to give illustrations in a later book, companion to this. Only so much is given here as may interest the reader, who is a playgoer first of all, and asks for entertainment and a light in these darker passages of the old British drama.

* * * * *

Finally the amplest acknowledgments are due to those who have worked upon these present plays, including Mrs. C. Richardson, M.A., Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Roberts, Miss Hawkins, G. R., and Mr. Ezra Pound; and to the various editors of the "Early English Text Society," who have made this book possible. Especially should tribute be paid to Dr. Furnivall for his permission to make use of the Society's texts, and his interest in this uncertain attempt to capture the outer public too, and attract it to that ever-living literature to which he has devoted so many days of his young old-age.

E. R.

* * * * *

Everyman: a moral play otherwise called: A Treatyse how the hye fader of heven sendeth dethe to somon every creature to come and gyve a counte of theyr lyves in this worlde], translated from the Dutch play, Elckerlijk, 1520 (?); published in Dodsley's Select Collection of Old English Plays, etc., vol. I., 1874; reprint of one of Skot's editions, collated with his other edition and those of Pynson, Ed. H. Logeman, 1892; with an introduction by F. Sidgwick, 1902; reprinted by W. W. Greg from the Edition by John Skot preserved at Britwell Court, 1904; set to music by H. Walford Davies, etc. (with historical and analytical notes), 1904; J. S. Farmer, Six Anonymous Plays (Early English Dramatists), 1905; with designs by Ambrose Dudley, 1906; in Broadway Booklets, 1906; with introduction, note-book, and word list, J. S. Farmer (Museum Dramatists), 1906.

Miracle Plays: Towneley Mysteries, ed. by Surtees Society, 1836; Pollard, Early English Text Society, 1897. York Mysteries, ed. Lucy Toulmin Smith, 1885. Chester Mysteries, ed. Th. Wright, Shakespeare Society, 1843-47; Deimling, Early English Text Society, 1893, etc.; T. H. Markland (two plays), Roxburghe Club, 1818. Coventry Mysteries, ed. Halliwell, Shakespeare Society, 1841. See also Sharp, Dissertation on the Coventry Mysteries. For other Mysteries see Davidson, Modern Language Notes, vii.; E. Norris, Ancient Cornish Drama, 1859.

Selections, or Separate Plays: Harrowing of Hell, ed. Halliwell, 1840; Collier, Five Miracle Plays, 1867; Dr. E. Mall, 1871; A. W. Pollard, English Miracle Plays, 1895; Specimens of the Pre-Shakespearean Drama, 1897, 2 vols. (a third vol. to come), Prof. Manly. See J. H. Kirkham (Enquiry into Sources, etc.), 1885. Abraham and Isaac, ed. L. Toulmin Smith (Brome Hall MS.), 1886; R. Brotanek (Dublin MS.), Anglia, xxi.

General Literature: Ward, History of English Dramatic Literature, 1875-6; Payne Collier, The History of English Dramatic Poetry, 1879; K. Hase, Miracle Plays, trans. A. W. Jackson, 1880; C. Davidson, Studies in English Mystery Plays, 1892; A. W. Pollard, English Miracle Plays, Moralities, and Interludes, Specimens of pre-Elizabethan Drama, etc., 1895; K. Chambers, The Mediæval Stage, 1903; A full bibliography is given in F. H. Stoddard, References for Students of Miracle Plays and Mysteries, 1887.

Contents

Introduction vii Everyman 1 The Deluge 27 Abraham, Melchisedec, and Isaac 39 The Wakefield Second Shepherds' Play 55 The Coventry Nativity Play 79 The Wakefield Miracle-Play of the Crucifixion 105 The Cornish Mystery-Play of the Three Maries 127 The Mystery of Mary Magdalene and the Apostles 137 The Wakefield Pageant of the Harrowing of Hell 147 God's Promises 163 Appendices 193

Characters

Everyman God: Adonai Death Messenger Fellowship Cousin Kindred Goods Good-Deeds Strength Discretion Five-Wits Beauty Knowledge Confession Angel Doctor

Everyman

HERE BEGINNETH A TREATISE HOW THE HIGH FATHER OF HEAVEN SENDETH DEATH TO SUMMON EVERY CREATURE TO COME AND GIVE ACCOUNT OF THEIR LIVES IN THIS WORLD AND IS IN MANNER OF A MORAL PLAY.

_Messenger._ I pray you all give your audience, And hear this matter with reverence, By figure a moral play-- The _Summoning of Everyman_ called it is, That of our lives and ending shows How transitory we be all day. This matter is wondrous precious, But the intent of it is more gracious, And sweet to bear away. The story saith,--Man, in the beginning, Look well, and take good heed to the ending, Be you never so gay! Ye think sin in the beginning full sweet, Which in the end causeth thy soul to weep, When the body lieth in clay. Here shall you see how _Fellowship_ and _Jollity_, Both _Strength_, _Pleasure_, and _Beauty_, Will fade from thee as flower in May. For ye shall hear, how our heaven king Calleth _Everyman_ to a general reckoning: Give audience, and hear what he doth say.

_God._ I perceive here in my majesty, How that all creatures be to me unkind, Living without dread in worldly prosperity: Of ghostly sight the people be so blind, Drowned in sin, they know me not for their God; In worldly riches is all their mind, They fear not my rightwiseness, the sharp rod; My law that I shewed, when I for them died, They forget clean, and shedding of my blood red; I hanged between two, it cannot be denied; To get them life I suffered to be dead; I healed their feet, with thorns hurt was my head: I could do no more than I did truly, And now I see the people do clean forsake me. They use the seven deadly sins damnable; As pride, covetise, wrath, and lechery, Now in the world be made commendable; And thus they leave of angels the heavenly company; Everyman liveth so after his own pleasure, And yet of their life they be nothing sure: I see the more that I them forbear The worse they be from year to year; All that liveth appaireth[7] fast, Therefore I will in all the haste Have a reckoning of Everyman's person For and I leave the people thus alone In their life and wicked tempests, Verily they will become much worse than beasts; For now one would by envy another up eat; Charity they all do clean forget. I hoped well that Everyman In my glory should make his mansion, And thereto I had them all elect; But now I see, like traitors deject, They thank me not for the pleasure that I to them meant, Nor yet for their being that I them have lent; I proffered the people great multitude of mercy, And few there be that asketh it heartily; They be so cumbered with worldly riches, That needs on them I must do justice, On Everyman living without fear. Where art thou, _Death_, thou mighty messenger?

_Death._ Almighty God, I am here at your will, Your commandment to fulfil.

_God._ Go thou to _Everyman_, And show him in my name A pilgrimage he must on him take, Which he in no wise may escape; And that he bring with him a sure reckoning Without delay or any tarrying.

_Death._ Lord, I will in the world go run over all, And cruelly outsearch both great and small; Every man will I beset that liveth beastly Out of God's laws, and dreadeth not folly: He that loveth riches I will strike with my dart, His sight to blind, and from heaven to depart, Except that alms be his good friend, In hell for to dwell, world without end. Lo, yonder I see _Everyman_ walking; Full little he thinketh on my coming; His mind is on fleshly lusts and his treasure, And great pain it shall cause him to endure Before the Lord Heaven King. _Everyman_, stand still; whither art thou going Thus gaily? Hast thou thy Maker forget?

_Everyman._ Why askst thou? Wouldest thou wete?[8]

_Death._ Yea, sir, I will show you; In great haste I am sent to thee From God out of his majesty.

_Everyman._ What, sent to me?

_Death._ Yea, certainly. Though thou have forget him here, He thinketh on thee in the heavenly sphere, As, or we depart, thou shalt know.

_Everyman._ What desireth God of me?

_Death._ That shall I show thee; A reckoning he will needs have Without any longer respite.

_Everyman._ To give a reckoning longer leisure I crave; This blind matter troubleth my wit.

_Death._ On thee thou must take a long journey: Therefore thy book of count with thee thou bring; For turn again thou can not by no way, And look thou be sure of thy reckoning: For before God thou shalt answer, and show Thy many bad deeds and good but a few; How thou hast spent thy life, and in what wise, Before the chief lord of paradise. Have ado that we were in that way, For, wete thou well, thou shalt make none attournay.[9]

_Everyman._ Full unready I am such reckoning to give. I know thee not: what messenger art thou?

_Death._ I am _Death_, that no man dreadeth. For every man I rest and no man spareth; For it is God's commandment That all to me should be obedient.

_Everyman._ O _Death_, thou comest when I had thee least in mind; In thy power it lieth me to save, Yet of my good will I give thee, if ye will be kind, Yea, a thousand pound shalt thou have, And defer this matter till another day.

_Death._ _Everyman_, it may not be by no way; I set not by gold, silver, nor riches, Ne by pope, emperor, king, duke, ne princes. For and I would receive gifts great, All the world I might get; But my custom is clean contrary. I give thee no respite: come hence, and not tarry.

_Everyman._ Alas, shall I have no longer respite? I may say _Death_ giveth no warning: To think on thee, it maketh my heart sick, For all unready is my book of reckoning. But twelve year and I might have abiding, My counting book I would make so clear, That my reckoning I should not need to fear. Wherefore, _Death_, I pray thee, for God's mercy, Spare me till I be provided of remedy.

_Death._ Thee availeth not to cry, weep, and pray: But haste thee lightly that you were gone the journey, And prove thy friends if thou can. For, wete thou well, the tide abideth no man, And in the world each living creature For _Adam's_ sin must die of nature.

_Everyman._ _Death_, if I should this pilgrimage take, And my reckoning surely make, Show me, for saint _charity_, Should I not come again shortly?

_Death._ No, _Everyman_; and thou be once there, Thou mayst never more come here, Trust me verily.

_Everyman._ O gracious God, in the high seat celestial, Have mercy on me in this most need; Shall I have no company from this vale terrestrial Of mine acquaintance that way me to lead?

_Death._ Yea, if any be so hardy, That would go with thee and bear thee company. Hie thee that you were gone to God's magnificence, Thy reckoning to give before his presence. What, weenest thou thy life is given thee, And thy worldly goods also?

_Everyman._ I had wend so, verily.

_Death._ Nay, nay; it was but lent thee; For as soon as thou art go, Another awhile shall have it, and then go therefro Even as thou hast done. _Everyman_, thou art mad; thou hast thy wits five, And here on earth will not amend thy life, For suddenly I do come.

_Everyman._ O wretched caitiff, whither shall I flee, That I might scape this endless sorrow! Now, gentle _Death_, spare me till to-morrow, That I may amend me With good advisement.

_Death._ Nay, thereto I will not consent, Nor no man will I respite, But to the heart suddenly I shall smite Without any advisement. And now out of thy sight I will me hie; See thou make thee ready shortly, For thou mayst say this is the day That no man living may scape away.

_Everyman._ Alas, I may well weep with sighs deep; Now have I no manner of company To help me in my journey, and me to keep; And also my writing is full unready. How shall I do now for to excuse me? I would to God I had never be gete![10] To my soul a full great profit it had be; For now I fear pains huge and great. The time passeth; Lord, help that all wrought; For though I mourn it availeth nought. The day passeth, and is almost a-go; I wot not well what for to do. To whom were I best my complaint to make? What, and I to _Fellowship_ thereof spake, And showed him of this sudden chance? For in him is all mine affiance; We have in the world so many a day Be on good friends in sport and play. I see him yonder, certainly; I trust that he will bear me company; Therefore to him will I speak to ease my sorrow. Well met, good _Fellowship_, and good morrow!

_Fellowship speaketh._ _Everyman_, good morrow by this day. Sir, why lookest thou so piteously? If any thing be amiss, I pray thee, me say, That I may help to remedy.

_Everyman._ Yea, good _Fellowship_, yea, I am in great jeopardy.

_Fellowship._ My true friend, show to me your mind; I will not forsake thee, unto my life's end, In the way of good company.

_Everyman._ That was well spoken, and lovingly.

_Fellowship._ Sir, I must needs know your heaviness; I have pity to see you in any distress; If any have you wronged ye shall revenged be, Though I on the ground be slain for thee,-- Though that I know before that I should die.

_Everyman._ Verily, _Fellowship_, gramercy.

_Fellowship._ Tush! by thy thanks I set not a straw. Show me your grief, and say no more.

_Everyman._ If I my heart should to you break, And then you to turn your mind from me, And would not me comfort, when you hear me speak, Then should I ten times sorrier be.

_Fellowship._ Sir, I say as I will do in deed.

_Everyman._ Then be you a good friend at need: I have found you true here before.

_Fellowship._ And so ye shall evermore; For, in faith, and thou go to Hell, I will not forsake thee by the way!

_Everyman._ Ye speak like a good friend; I believe you well; I shall deserve it, and I may.

_Fellowship._ I speak of no deserving, by this day. For he that will say and nothing do Is not worthy with good company to go; Therefore show me the grief of your mind, As to your friend most loving and kind.

_Everyman._ I shall show you how it is; Commanded I am to go a journey, A long way, hard and dangerous, And give a strait count without delay Before the high judge Adonai.[11] Wherefore I pray you, bear me company, As ye have promised, in this journey.

_Fellowship._ That is matter indeed! Promise is duty, But, and I should take such a voyage on me, I know it well, it should be to my pain: Also it make me afeard, certain. But let us take counsel here as well as we can, For your words would fear a strong man.

_Everyman._ Why, ye said, If I had need, Ye would me never forsake, quick nor dead, Though it were to hell truly.

_Fellowship._ So I said, certainly, But such pleasures be set aside, thee sooth to say: And also, if we took such a journey, When should we come again?

_Everyman._ Nay, never again till the day of doom.

_Fellowship._ In faith, then will not I come there! Who hath you these tidings brought?

_Everyman._ Indeed, _Death_ was with me here.

_Fellowship._ Now, by God that all hath bought, If _Death_ were the messenger, For no man that is living to-day I will not go that loath journey-- Not for the father that begat me!

_Everyman._ Ye promised other wise, pardie.

_Fellowship._ I wot well I say so truly; And yet if thou wilt eat, and drink, and make good cheer, Or haunt to women, the lusty company, I would not forsake you, while the day is clear, Trust me verily!

_Everyman._ Yea, thereto ye would be ready; To go to mirth, solace, and play, Your mind will sooner apply Than to bear me company in my long journey.

_Fellowship._ Now, in good faith, I will not that way. But and thou wilt murder, or any man kill, In that I will help thee with a good will!

_Everyman._ O that is a simple advice indeed! Gentle _fellow_, help me in my necessity; We have loved long, and now I need, And now, gentle _Fellowship_, remember me.

_Fellowship._ Whether ye have loved me or no, By Saint John, I will not with thee go.

_Everyman._ Yet I pray thee, take the labour, and do so much for me To bring me forward, for saint charity, And comfort me till I come without the town.

_Fellowship._ Nay, and thou would give me a new gown, I will not a foot with thee go; But and you had tarried I would not have left thee so. And as now, God speed thee in thy journey, For from thee I will depart as fast as I may.

_Everyman._ Whither away, _Fellowship_? will you forsake me?

_Fellowship._ Yea, by my fay, to God I betake thee.

_Everyman._ Farewell, good _Fellowship_; for this my heart is sore; Adieu for ever, I shall see thee no more.

_Fellowship._ In faith, _Everyman_, farewell now at the end; For you I will remember that parting is mourning.

_Everyman._ Alack! shall we thus depart indeed? Our Lady, help, without any more comfort, Lo, _Fellowship_ forsaketh me in my most need: For help in this world whither shall I resort? _Fellowship_ herebefore with me would merry make; And now little sorrow for me doth he take. It is said, in prosperity men friends may find, Which in adversity be full unkind. Now whither for succour shall I flee, Sith that _Fellowship_ hath forsaken me? To my kinsmen I will truly, Praying them to help me in my necessity; I believe that they will do so, For kind will creep where it may not go. I will go say, for yonder I see them go. Where be ye now, my friends and kinsmen?

_Kindred._ Here be we now at your commandment. _Cousin_, I pray you show us your intent In any wise, and not spare.

_Cousin._ Yea, _Everyman_, and to us declare If ye be disposed to go any whither, For wete you well, we will live and die together.

_Kindred._ In wealth and woe we will with you hold, For over his kin a man may be bold.

_Everyman._ Gramercy, my friends and kinsmen kind. Now shall I show you the grief of my mind: I was commanded by a messenger, That is an high king's chief officer; He bade me go a pilgrimage to my pain, And I know well I shall never come again; Also I must give a reckoning straight, For I have a great enemy, that hath me in wait, Which intendeth me for to hinder.

_Kindred._ What account is that which ye must render? That would I know.

_Everyman._ Of all my works I must show How I have lived and my days spent; Also of ill deeds, that I have used In my time, sith life was me lent; And of all virtues that I have refused. Therefore I pray you go thither with me, To help to make mine account, for saint _charity_.

_Cousin._ What, to go thither? Is that the matter? Nay, _Everyman_, I had liefer fast bread and water All this five year and more.

_Everyman._ Alas, that ever I was bore![12] For now shall I never be merry If that you forsake me.

_Kindred._ Ah, sir; what, ye be a merry man! Take good heart to you, and make no moan. But one thing I warn you, by Saint Anne, As for me, ye shall go alone.

_Everyman._ My _Cousin_, will you not with me go?

_Cousin._ No, by our Lady; I have the cramp in my toe. Trust not to me, for, so God me speed, I will deceive you in your most need, _Kindred._ It availeth not us to tice. Ye shall have my maid with all my heart; She loveth to go to feasts, there to be nice, And to dance, and abroad to start: I will give her leave to help you in that journey, If that you and she may agree.

_Everyman._ Now show me the very effect of your mind. Will you go with me, or abide behind?

_Kindred._ Abide behind? yea, that I will and I may! Therefore farewell until another day.

_Everyman._ How should I be merry or glad? For fair promises to me make, But when I have most need, they me forsake. I am deceived; that maketh me sad.

_Cousin._ Cousin _Everyman_, farewell now, For verily I will not go with you; Also of mine own an unready reckoning I have to account; therefore I make tarrying. Now, God keep thee, for now I go.

_Everyman._ Ah, _Jesus_, is all come hereto? Lo, fair words maketh fools feign; They promise and nothing will do certain. My kinsmen promised me faithfully For to abide with me steadfastly, And now fast away do they flee: Even so _Fellowship_ promised me. What friend were best me of to provide? I lose my time here longer to abide. Yet in my mind a thing there is;-- All my life I have loved riches; If that my good now help me might, He would make my heart full light. I will speak to him in this distress.-- Where art thou, my _Goods_ and riches?

_Goods._ Who calleth me? _Everyman?_ what haste thou hast! I lie here in corners, trussed and piled so high, And in chests I am locked so fast, Also sacked in bags, thou mayst see with thine eye, I cannot stir; in packs low I lie. What would ye have, lightly me say.

_Everyman._ Come hither, _Good_, in all the haste thou may, For of counsel I must desire thee.

_Goods._ Sir, and ye in the world have trouble or adversity, That can I help you to remedy shortly.

_Everyman._ It is another disease that grieveth me; In this world it is not, I tell thee so. I am sent for another way to go, To give a straight account general Before the highest _Jupiter_ of all; And all my life I have had joy and pleasure in thee. Therefore I pray thee go with me, For, peradventure, thou mayst before God Almighty My reckoning help to clean and purify; For it is said ever among, That money maketh all right that is wrong.

_Goods._ Nay, _Everyman_, I sing another song, I follow no man in such voyages; For and I went with thee Thou shouldst fare much the worse for me; For because on me thou did set thy mind, Thy reckoning I have made blotted and blind, That thine account thou cannot make truly; And that hast thou for the love of me.

_Everyman._ That would grieve me full sore, When I should come to that fearful answer. Up, let us go thither together.

_Goods._ Nay, not so, I am too brittle, I may not endure; I will follow no man one foot, be ye sure.

_Everyman._ Alas, I have thee loved, and had great pleasure All my life-days on good and treasure.

_Goods._ That is to thy damnation without lesing, For my love is contrary to the love everlasting. But if thou had me loved moderately during, As, to the poor give part of me, Then shouldst thou not in this dolour be, Nor in this great sorrow and care.

_Everyman._ Lo, now was I deceived or I was ware, And all I may wyte[13] my spending of time.

_Goods._ What, weenest thou that I am thine?

_Everyman._ I had wend so.

_Goods._ Nay, _Everyman,_ I say no; As for a while I was lent thee, A season thou hast had me in prosperity; My condition is man's soul to kill; If I save one, a thousand I do spill; Weenest thou that I will follow thee? Nay, from this world, not verily.

_Everyman._ I had wend otherwise.

_Goods._ Therefore to thy soul _Good_ is a thief; For when thou art dead, this is my guise Another to deceive in the same wise As I have done thee, and all to his soul's reprief.

_Everyman._ O false _Good_, cursed thou be! Thou traitor to God, that hast deceived me, And caught me in thy snare.

_Goods._ Marry, thou brought thyself in care, Whereof I am glad, I must needs laugh, I cannot be sad.

_Everyman._ Ah, _Good_, thou hast had long my heartly love; I gave thee that which should be the Lord's above. But wilt thou not go with me in deed? I pray thee truth to say.

_Goods._ No, so God me speed, Therefore farewell, and have good day.

_Everyman._ O, to whom shall I make my moan For to go with me in that heavy journey? First _Fellowship_ said he would with me gone; His words were very pleasant and gay, But afterward he left me alone. Then spake I to my kinsmen all in despair, And also they gave me words fair, They lacked no fair speaking, But all forsake me in the ending. Then went I to my _Goods_ that I loved best, In hope to have comfort, but there had I least; For my _Goods_ sharply did me tell That he bringeth many into hell. Then of myself I was ashamed, And so I am worthy to be blamed; Thus may I well myself hate. Of whom shall I now counsel take? I think that I shall never speed Till that I go to my _Good-Deed_, But alas, she is so weak, That she can neither go nor speak; Yet will I venture on her now.-- My _Good-Deeds_, where be you?

_Good-Deeds._ Here I lie cold in the ground; Thy sins hath me sore bound, That I cannot stir.

_Everyman._ O, _Good-Deeds_, I stand in fear; I must you pray of counsel, For help now should come right well.

_Goods-Deeds._ _Everyman_, I have understanding That ye be summoned account to make Before _Messias_, of Jerusalem King; And you do by me[14] that journey what[15] you will I take.

_Everyman._ Therefore I come to you, my moan to make; I pray you, that ye will go with me.

_Good-Deeds._ I would full fain, but I cannot stand verily.

_Everyman._ Why, is there anything on you fall?

_Good-Deeds._ Yea, sir, I may thank you of all; If ye had perfectly cheered me, Your book of account now full ready had be. Look, the books of your works and deeds eke; Oh, see how they lie under the feet, To your soul's heaviness.

_Everyman._ Our Lord _Jesus_, help me! For one letter here I can not see.

_Good-Deeds._ There is a blind reckoning in time of distress!

_Everyman._ _Good-Deeds_, I pray you, help me in this need, Or else I am for ever damned indeed; Therefore help me to make reckoning Before the redeemer of all thing, That king is, and was, and ever shall.

_Good-Deeds._ _Everyman_, I am sorry of your fall, And fain would I help you, and I were able.

_Everyman._ _Good-Deeds_, your counsel I pray you give me.

_Good-Deeds._ That shall I do verily; Though that on my feet I may not go, I have a sister, that shall with you also, Called _Knowledge_, which shall with you abide, To help you to make that dreadful reckoning.

_Knowledge._ _Everyman_, I will go with thee, and be thy guide, In thy most need to go by thy side.

_Everyman._ In good condition I am now in every thing, And am wholly content with this good thing; Thanked be God my Creator.

_Good-Deeds._ And when he hath brought thee there, Where thou shalt heal thee of thy smart, Then go you with your reckoning and your _Good-Deeds_ together For to make you joyful at heart Before the blessed Trinity.

_Everyman._ My _Good-Deeds_, gramercy; I am well content, certainly, With your words sweet.

_Knowledge._ Now go we together lovingly, To _Confession_, that cleansing river.

_Everyman._ For joy I weep; I would we were there; But, I pray you, give me cognition Where dwelleth that holy man, _Confession_.

_Knowledge._ In the house of salvation: We shall find him in that place, That shall us comfort by God's grace. Lo, this is _Confession_; kneel down and ask mercy, For he is in good conceit with God almighty.

_Everyman._ O glorious fountain that all uncleanness doth clarify, Wash from me the spots of vices unclean, That on me no sin may be seen; I come with _Knowledge_ for my redemption, Repent with hearty and full contrition; For I am commanded a pilgrimage to take, And great accounts before God to make. Now, I pray you, _Shrift_, mother of salvation, Help my good deeds for my piteous exclamation.

_Confession._ I know your sorrow well, _Everyman_; Because with _Knowledge_ ye come to me, I will you comfort as well as I can, And a precious jewel I will give thee, Called penance, wise voider of adversity; Therewith shall your body chastised be, With abstinence and perseverance in God's service: Here shall you receive that scourge of me, Which is penance strong, that ye must endure, To remember thy Saviour was scourged for thee With sharp scourges, and suffered it patiently; So must thou, or thou scape that painful pilgrimage; _Knowledge_, keep him in this voyage, And by that time _Good-Deeds_ will be with thee. But in any wise, be sure of mercy, For your time draweth fast, and ye will saved be; Ask God mercy, and He will grant truly, When with the scourge of penance man doth him bind, The oil of forgiveness then shall he find.

_Everyman._ Thanked be God for his gracious work! For now I will my penance begin; This hath rejoiced and lighted my heart, Though the knots be painful and hard within.

_Knowledge._ _Everyman_, look your penance that ye fulfil, What pain that ever it to you be, And _Knowledge_ shall give you counsel at will, How your accounts ye shall make clearly.

_Everyman._ O eternal God, O heavenly figure, O way of rightwiseness, O goodly vision, Which descended down in a virgin pure Because he would _Everyman_ redeem, Which _Adam_ forfeited by his disobedience: O blessed Godhead, elect and high-divine, Forgive my grievous offence; Here I cry thee mercy in this presence. O ghostly treasure, O ransomer and redeemer Of all the world, hope and conductor, Mirror of joy, and founder of mercy, Which illumineth heaven and earth thereby, Hear my clamorous complaint, though it late be; Receive my prayers; unworthy in this heavy life, Though I be, a sinner most abominable, Yet let my name be written in _Moses'_ table; O _Mary_, pray to the Maker of all thing, Me for to help at my ending, And save me from the power of my enemy, For _Death_ assaileth me strongly; And, Lady, that I may by means of thy prayer Of your Son's glory to be partaker, By the means of his passion I it crave, I beseech you, help my soul to save.-- _Knowledge_, give me the scourge of penance; My flesh therewith shall give a quittance: I will now begin, if God give me grace.

_Knowledge._ _Everyman_, God give you time and space: Thus I bequeath you in the hands of our Saviour, Thus may you make your reckoning sure.

_Everyman._ In the name of the Holy Trinity, My body sore punished shall be: Take this body for the sin of the flesh; Also thou delightest to go gay and fresh, And in the way of damnation thou did me bring; Therefore suffer now strokes and punishing. Now of penance I will wade the water clear, To save me from purgatory, that sharp fire.

_Good-Deeds._ I thank God, now I can walk and go; And am delivered of my sickness and woe. Therefore with _Everyman_ I will go, and not spare; His good works I will help him to declare.

_Knowledge._ Now, _Everyman_, be merry and glad; Your _Good-Deeds_ cometh now; ye may not be sad; Now is your _Good-Deeds_ whole and sound, Going upright upon the ground.

_Everyman._ My heart is light, and shall be evermore; Now will I smite faster than I did before.

_Good-Deeds._ _Everyman_, pilgrim, my special friend, Blessed be thou without end; For thee is prepared the eternal glory. Ye have me made whole and sound, Therefore I will bide by thee in every stound.[16]

_Everyman._ Welcome, my _Good-Deeds_; now I hear thy voice, I weep for very sweetness of love.

_Knowledge._ Be no more sad, but ever rejoice, God seeth thy living in his throne above; Put on this garment to thy behove, Which is wet with your tears, Or else before God you may it miss, When you to your journey's end come shall.

_Everyman._ Gentle _Knowledge_, what do you it call?

_Knowledge._ It is a garment of sorrow: From pain it will you borrow; Contrition it is, That getteth forgiveness; It pleaseth God passing well.

_Good-Deeds._ _Everyman_, will you wear it for your heal?

_Everyman._ Now blessed be _Jesu, Mary's_ Son! For now have I on true contrition. And let us go now without tarrying; _Good-Deeds_, have we clear our reckoning?

_Good-Deeds._ Yea, indeed I have it here.

_Everyman._ Then I trust we need not fear; Now, friends, let us not part in twain.

_Knowledge._ Nay, _Everyman_, that will we not, certain.

_Good-Deeds._ Yet must thou lead with thee Three persons of great might.

_Everyman._ Who should they be?

_Good-Deeds._ _Discretion_ and _Strength_ they hight, And thy _Beauty_ may not abide behind.

_Knowledge._ Also ye must call to mind Your _Five-wits_ as for your counsellors.

_Good-Deeds._ You must have them ready at all hours.

_Everyman._ How shall I get them hither?

_Knowledge._ You must call them all together, And they will hear you incontinent.

_Everyman._ My friends, come hither and be present _Discretion_, _Strength_, my _Five-wits_, and _Beauty_.

_Beauty._ Here at your will we be all ready. What will ye that we should do?

_Good-Deeds._ That ye would with _Everyman_ go, And help him in his pilgrimage, Advise you, will ye with him or not in that voyage?

_Strength._ We will bring him all thither, To his help and comfort, ye may believe me.

_Discretion._ So will we go with him all together.

_Everyman._ Almighty God, loved thou be, I give thee laud that I have hither brought _Strength_, _Discretion_, _Beauty_, and _Five-wits_; lack I nought; And my _Good-Deeds_, with _Knowledge_ clear, All be in my company at my will here; I desire no more to my business.

_Strength._ And I, _Strength_, will by you stand in distress, Though thou would in battle fight on the ground.

_Five-wits._ And though it were through the world round, We will not depart for sweet nor sour.

_Beauty._ No more will I unto death's hour, Whatsoever thereof befall.

_Discretion._ _Everyman_, advise you first of all; Go with a good advisement and deliberation; We all give you virtuous monition That all shall be well.

_Everyman._ My friends, hearken what I will tell: I pray God reward you in his heavenly sphere. Now hearken, all that be here, For I will make my testament Here before you all present. In alms half my good I will give with my hands twain In the way of charity, with good intent, And the other half still shall remain In quiet to be returned there it ought to be. This I do in despite of the fiend of hell To go quite out of his peril Ever after and this day.

_Knowledge._ _Everyman_, hearken what I say; Go to priesthood, I you advise, And receive of him in any wise The holy sacrament and ointment together; Then shortly see ye turn again hither; We will all abide you here.

_Five-Wits._ Yea, _Everyman_, hie you that ye ready were, There is no emperor, king, duke, ne baron, That of God hath commission, As hath the least priest in the world being; For of the blessed sacraments pure and benign, He beareth the keys and thereof hath the cure For man's redemption, it is ever sure; Which God for our soul's medicine Gave us out of his heart with great pine; Here in this transitory life, for thee and me The blessed sacraments seven there be, Baptism, confirmation, with priesthood good, And the sacrament of God's precious flesh and blood, Marriage, the holy extreme unction, and penance; These seven be good to have in remembrance, Gracious sacraments of high divinity.

_Everyman._ Fain would I receive that holy body And meekly to my ghostly father I will go.

_Five-wits._ _Everyman_, that is the best that ye can do: God will you to salvation bring, For priesthood exceedeth all other thing; To us Holy Scripture they do teach, And converteth man from sin heaven to reach; God hath to them more power given, Than to any angel that is in heaven; With five words he may consecrate God's body in flesh and blood to make, And handleth his maker between his hands; The priest bindeth and unbindeth all bands, Both in earth and in heaven; Thou ministers all the sacraments seven; Though we kissed thy feet thou were worthy; Thou art surgeon that cureth sin deadly: No remedy we find under God But all only priesthood. _Everyman_, God gave priests that dignity, And setteth them in his stead among us to be; Thus be they above angels in degree.

_Knowledge._ If priests be good it is so surely; But when Jesus hanged on the cross with great smart There he gave, out of his blessed heart, The same sacrament in great torment: He sold them not to us, that Lord Omnipotent. Therefore Saint Peter the apostle doth say That Jesu's curse hath all they Which God their Saviour do buy or sell, Or they for any money do take or tell. Sinful priests giveth the sinners example bad; Their children sitteth by other men's fires, I have heard; And some haunteth women's company, With unclean life, as lusts of lechery These be with sin made blind.

_Five-wits._ I trust to God no such may we find; Therefore let us priesthood honour, And follow their doctrine for our souls' succour; We be their sheep, and they shepherds be By whom we all be kept in surety. Peace, for yonder I see _Everyman_ come, Which hath made true satisfaction.

_Good-Deeds._ Methinketh it is he indeed.

_Everyman._ Now Jesu be our alder speed.[17] I have received the sacrament for my redemption, And then mine extreme unction: Blessed be all they that counselled me to take it! And now, friends, let us go without longer respite; I thank God that ye have tarried so long. Now set each of you on this rod your hand, And shortly follow me: I go before, there I would be; God be our guide.

_Strength._ _Everyman_, we will not from you go, Till ye have gone this voyage long.

_Discretion._ I, _Discretion_, will bide by you also.

_Knowledge._ And though this pilgrimage be never so strong, I will never part you fro: _Everyman_, I will be as sure by thee As ever I did by Judas Maccabee.

_Everyman._ Alas, I am so faint I may not stand, My limbs under me do fold; Friends, let us not turn again to this land, Not for all the world's gold, For into this cave must I creep And turn to the earth and there to sleep.

_Beauty._ What, into this grave? alas!

_Everyman._ Yea, there shall you consume more and less.

_Beauty._ And what, should I smother here?

_Everyman._ Yea, by my faith, and never more appear. In this world live no more we shall, But in heaven before the highest Lord of all.

_Beauty._ I cross out all this; adieu by Saint _John_; I take my cap in my lap and am gone.

_Everyman._ What, _Beauty_, whither will ye?

_Beauty._ Peace, I am deaf; I look not behind me, Not and thou would give me all the gold in thy chest.

_Everyman._ Alas, whereto may I trust? _Beauty_ goeth fast away hie; She promised with me to live and die.

_Strength._ _Everyman_, I will thee also forsake and deny; Thy game liketh me not at all.

_Everyman._ Why, then ye will forsake me all. Sweet _Strength_, tarry a little space.

_Strength._ Nay, sir, by the rood of grace I will hie me from thee fast, Though thou weep till thy heart brast.

_Everyman._ Ye would ever bide by me, ye said.

_Strength._ Yea, I have you far enough conveyed; Ye be old enough, I understand, Your pilgrimage to take on hand; I repent me that I hither came.

_Everyman._ _Strength_, you to displease I am to blame; Will you break promise that is debt?

_Strength._ In faith, I care not; Thou art but a fool to complain, You spend your speech and waste your brain; Go thrust thee into the ground.

_Everyman._ I had wend surer I should you have found. He that trusteth in his _Strength_ She him deceiveth at the length. Both _Strength_ and _Beauty_ forsaketh me, Yet they promised me fair and lovingly.

_Discretion. Everyman_, I will after _Strength_ be gone, As for me I will leave you alone.

_Everyman._ Why, _Discretion_, will ye forsake me?

_Discretion._ Yea, in faith, I will go from thee, For when _Strength_ goeth before I follow after evermore.

_Everyman._ Yet, I pray thee, for the love of the Trinity, Look in my grave once piteously.

_Discretion._ Nay, so nigh will I not come. Farewell, every one!

_Everyman._ O all thing faileth, save God alone; _Beauty_, _Strength_, and _Discretion_; For when _Death_ bloweth his blast, They all run from me full fast.

_Five-wits. Everyman_, my leave now of thee I take; I will follow the other, for here I thee forsake.

_Everyman._ Alas! then may I wail and weep, For I took you for my best friend.

_Five-wits._ I will no longer thee keep; Now farewell, and there an end.

_Everyman._ O Jesu, help, all hath forsaken me!

_Good-Deeds._ Nay, _Everyman_, I will bide with thee, I will not forsake thee indeed; Thou shalt find me a good friend at need.

_Everyman._ Gramercy, _Good-Deeds_; now may I true friends see; They have forsaken me every one; I loved them better than my _Good-Deeds_ alone. _Knowledge_, will ye forsake me also?

_Knowledge._ Yea, _Everyman_, when ye to death do go: But not yet for no manner of danger.

_Everyman._ Gramercy, _Knowledge_, with all my heart.

_Knowledge._ Nay, yet I will not from hence depart, Till I see where ye shall be come.

_Everyman._ Methinketh, alas, that I must be gone, To make my reckoning and my debts pay, For I see my time is nigh spent away. Take example, all ye that this do hear or see, How they that I loved best do forsake me, Except my _Good-Deeds_ that bideth truly.

_Good-Deeds._ All earthly things is but vanity: _Beauty_, _Strength_, and _Discretion_, do man forsake, Foolish friends and kinsmen, that fair spake, All fleeth save _Good-Deeds_, and that am I.

_Everyman._ Have mercy on me, God most mighty; And stand by me, thou Mother and Maid, holy _Mary_.

_Good-Deeds_. Fear not, I will speak for thee.

_Everyman._ Here I cry God mercy.

_Good-Deeds._ Short our end, and minish our pain; Let us go and never come again.

_Everyman._ Into thy hands, Lord, my soul I commend; Receive it, Lord, that it be not lost; As thou me boughtest, so me defend, And save me from the fiend's boast, That I may appear with that blessed host That shall be saved at the day of doom. _In manus tuas_--of might's most For ever--_commendo spiritum meum_.

_Knowledge._ Now hath he suffered that we all shall endure; The _Good-Deeds_ shall make all sure. Now hath he made ending; Methinketh that I hear angels sing And make great joy and melody, Where _Everyman's_ soul received shall be.

_Angel._ Come, excellent elect spouse to Jesu: Hereabove thou shalt go Because of thy singular virtue: Now the soul is taken the body fro; Thy reckoning is crystal-clear. Now shalt thou into the heavenly sphere, Unto the which all ye shall come That liveth well before the day of doom.

_Doctor._ This moral men may have in mind; Ye hearers, take it of worth, old and young, And forsake pride, for he deceiveth you in the end, And remember _Beauty_, _Five-wits_, _Strength_, and _Discretion_, They all at the last do _Everyman_ forsake, Save his _Good-Deeds_, there doth he take. But beware, and they be small Before God, he hath no help at all. None excuse may be there for _Everyman_: Alas, how shall he do then? For after death amends may no man make, For then mercy and pity do him forsake. If his reckoning be not clear when he do come, God will say--_ite maledicti in ignem æternum_. And he that hath his account whole and sound, High in heaven he shall be crowned; Unto which place God bring us all thither That we may live body and soul together. Thereto help the Trinity, Amen, say ye, for saint _Charity_.

Thus Endeth This Morall Play Of Everyman.

THE CHESTER PAGEANT OF THE WATER-LEADERS AND DRAWERS OF THE DEE CONCERNING NOAH'S DELUGE

Characters

God Noah Shem Ham Japhet Noah's Wife Shem's Wife Ham's Wife Japhet's Wife

The Chester Pageant Of The Deluge

_God._ I, God, that all the world have wrought Heaven and Earth, and all of nought, I see my people, in deed and thought, Are foully set in sin. My ghost shall not lodge in any man That through fleshly liking is my fone,[18] But till six score years be gone To look if they will blynne.[19] Man that I made I will destroy, Beast, worm, and fowl to fly, For on earth they me annoy, The folk that is thereon. For it harms me so hurtfully The malice now that can multiply, That sore it grieveth me inwardly, That ever I made man. Therefore Noah, my servant free, That righteous man art, as I see, A ship soon thou shalt make thee, Of trees dry and light. Little chambers therein thou make And binding slich[20] also thou take Within and out, thou not slake To annoint it through all thy might. Three hundred cubits it shall be long, And so of breadth to make it strong, Of height so, then must thou fonge,[21] Thus measure it about. One window work though thy might; One cubit of length and breadth make it, Upon the side a door shall fit For to come in and out. Eating-places thou make also, Three roofed chambers, one or two: For with water I think to stow[22] Man that I can make. Destroyed all the world shall be, Save thou, thy wife, and sons three, And all their wives, also, with thee, Shall saved be for thy sake.

_Noah._ Ah, Lord! I thank thee, loud and still, That to me art in such will, And spares me and my house to spill As now I soothly find. Thy bidding, Lord, I shall fulfil, And never more thee grieve nor grill[23] That such grace has sent me till Among all mankind. Have done you men and women all; Help, for aught that may befall, To work this ship, chamber, and hall, As God hath bidden us do.

_Shem._ Father, I am already bowne,[24] An axe I have, by my crown! As sharp as any in all this town For to go thereto.

_Ham._ I have a hatchet, wonder keen, To bite well, as may be seen, A better ground one, as I ween, Is not in all this town.

_Japhet._ And I can well make a pin, And with this hammer knock it in; Go and work without more din; And I am ready bowne.[24]

_Noah's Wife._ And we shall bring timber too, For women nothing else to do Women be weak to undergo Any great travail.

_Shem's Wife._ Here is a good hackstock; On this you must hew and knock: Shall none be idle in this flock, Nor now may no man fail.

_Ham's Wife._ And I will go to gather slich,[25] The ship for to clean and pitch; Anointed it must be, every stitch, Board, tree, and pin.

_Japhet's Wife._ And I will gather chips here To make a fire for you, in fear, And for to dight[26] your dinner, Against you come in.

[_Here they make signs as though they were working divers instruments._

_Noah._ Now in the name of God I will begin, To make the ship that we shall in, That we be ready for to swim, At the coming of the flood. These boards I join together, To keep us safe from the weather That we may roam both hither and thither And safe be from this flood. Of this tree will I have the mast, Tied with gables that will last With a sail yard for each blast And each thing in its kind. With topmast high and bowsprit. With cords and ropes, I hold all fit To sail forth at the next weete[27] This ship is at an end. Wife in this castle we shall be kept: My children and thou I would in leaped!

_Noah's Wife._ In faith, Noe, I had as lief thou had slept, for all thy frankishfare,[28] For I will not do after thy rede.[29]

_Noah._ Good wife, do as I thee bid.

_Noah's Wife._ By Christ not, or I see more need, Though thou stand all the day and rave.

_Noah._ Lord, that women be crabbed aye! And never are meek, that I dare say. This is well seen of me to-day In witness of you each one. Good wife, let be all this beere[30] That thou makest in this place here, For they all ween thou art master; And so thou art, by St. John!

_God._ Noah, take thou thy company And in the ship hie that you be, For none so righteous man to me Is now on earth living. Of clean beasts with thee thou take Seven and seven, or thou seake, He and she make to make Quickly in that thou bring. Of beasts unclean two and two, Male and female, without more; Of clean fowls seven also, The he and she together. Of fowles unclean two, and no more; Of beasts as I said before: That shall be saved through my lore Against I send the weather. Of all meats that must be eaten Into the ship look there be gotten, For that no way may be forgotten And do all this by deene.[31] To sustain man and beasts therein, Aye, till the waters cease and blyn.[32] This world is filled full of sin And that is now well seen. Seven days be yet coming, You shall have space them in to bring; After that it is my liking Mankind for to annoy. Forty days and forty nights, Rain shall fall for their unrights; And that I have made through my might, Now think I to destroy.

_Noah._ Lord, at your bidding I am bayne,[33] Since none other grace will gain, It will I fulfil fain, For gracious I thee find. A hundred winters and twenty This ship making tarried have I: If, through amendment, any mercy Would fall unto mankind. Have done, you men and women all. Hie you, lest this water fall, That each beast were in his stall And into ship brought. Of clean beasts seven shall be; Of unclean two, this God bade me; This flood is nigh, well may we see, Therefore tarry you nought.

_Shem._ Sir, here are lions, leopards in, Horses, mares, oxen, and swine, Goats, calves, sheep, and kine, Here sitten[34] may you see.

_Ham._ Camels, asses, men may find; Buck, doe, hart and hind, And beasts of all manner kind. Here be, as thinks me.

_Japhet._ Take here cats and dogs too, Otter, fox, fulmart also; Hares, hopping gaily, can ye Have kail here for to eat.

_Noah's Wife._ And here are bears, wolves set, Apes, owls, marmoset; Weasels, squirrels, and ferret Here they eat their meat.

_Shem's Wife._ Yet more beasts are in this house! Here cats come in full crowse,[35] Here a rat and here a mouse; They stand nigh together.

_Ham's Wife._ And here are fowls less and more, Herons, cranes and bittern; Swans, peacocks, have them before! Meat for this weather.

_Japhet's Wife._ Here are cocks, kites, crows, Rooks, ravens, many rows; Cuckoos, curlews, whoso knows, Each one in his kind. And here are doves, ducks, drakes, Redshanks, running through the lakes, And each fowl that language makes In this ship men may find.

[_In the stage direction the sons of Noah are enjoined to mention aloud the names of the animals which enter; a representation of which, painted on parchment, is to be carried by the actors._

_Noah._ Wife, come in, why standest thou there? Thou art ever forward, that I dare swear: Come on God's half, time it were, For fear lest that we drown.

_Noah's Wife._ Yea, sir, set up your sail And row forth with evil heale, For, without any fail, I will not out of this town. But I have my gossips every one, One foot further I will not go; They shall not drown, by St. John! If I may save their life. They loved me full well, by Christ! But thou wilt let them in thy chest, Else row forth, Noah, whither thou list, And get thee a new wife.

_Noah._ Shem, some love thy mother, 'tis true; Forsooth, such another I do not know!

_Shem._ Father, I shall set her in, I trow, Without any fail. Mother, my father after thee sends, And bids thee unto yonder ship wend,[36] Look up and see the wind, For we be ready to sail.

_Noah's Wife._ Son, go again to him and say I will not come therein to-day!

_Noah._ Come in, wife, in twenty devils' way, Or else stand without.

_Ham._ Shall we all fetch her in?

_Noah._ Yea, sons, in Christ's blessing and mine, I would you hied you betime, For of this flood I am in doubt.

_Japhet._ Mother, we pray you altogether, For we are here, your children; Come into the ship for fear of the weather, For his love that you bought!

_Noah's Wife._ That I will not for your call, But if I have my gossips all.

_Gossip._ The flood comes in full fleeting fast, On every side it broadens in haste; For fear of drowning I am aghast: Good gossip, let me come in! Or let us drink ere we depart, For oftentimes we have done so; For at a time thou drinkst a quart, And so will I ere that I go.

_Shem._ In faith, mother, yet you shall, Whether you will or not!

[_She goes._

_Noah._ Welcome, wife, into this boat!

_Noah's Wife._ And have them that for thy note![37]

[_Et dat alapam victa._[38]

_Noah._ Aha! marry, this is hot! It is good to be still. My children! methinks this boat removes! Our tarrying here hugely me grieves! Over the land the water spreads! God do as he will! Ah, great God, thou art so good! Now all this world is in a flood As I see well in sight. This window will I close anon, And into my chamber will I gone Till this water, so great one, Be slakèd through thy might.

[_Noah, according to stage directions, is now to shut the windows of the ark and retire for a short time. He is then to chant the psalm, Salva me, Domine! and afterwards to open them and look out._

Now forty days are fully gone. Send a raven I will anon; If aught were earth, tree, or stone, Be dry in any place. And if this fowl come not again It is a sign, sooth to say, That dry it is on hill or plain, And God hath done some grace.

[_A raven is now despatched._

Ah, Lord! wherever this raven lie, Somewhere is dry well I see; But yet a dove, by my lewtye[39] After I will send. Thou wilt turn again to me For of all fowls that may fly Thou art most meek and hend.[40]

[_The stage direction enjoins here that another dove shall be ready with an olive branch in its mouth, which is to be dropped by means of a cord into Noah's hand._

Ah Lord! blessed be thou aye, That me hast comforted thus to-day! By this sight, I may well say This flood begins to cease. My sweet dove to me brought has A branch of olive from some place; This betokeneth God has done us some grace, And is a sign of peace. Ah, Lord! honoured must thou be! All earth dries now I see; But yet, till thou command me, Hence will I not hie. All this water is away, Therefore as soon as I may Sacrifice I shall do in faye[41] To thee devoutly.

_God._ Noah, take thy wife anon, And thy children every one, Out of the ship thou shalt gone, And they all with thee. Beasts and all that can flie, Out anon they shall hie, On earth to grow and multiply: I will that it be so.

_Noah._ Lord, I thank thee, through thy might, Thy bidding shall be done in hight,[42] And, as fast as I may dight[43] I will do thee honour. And to thee offer sacrifice, Therefore comes in all wise, For of these beasts that be his Offer I will this stower.[44]

[_Then leaving the ark with his whole family, he shall take the animals and birds, make an offering of them, and set out on his way._

Lord God, in majesty, That such grace has granted me, When all was borne safe to be, Therefore now I am boune.[45] My wife, my children, my company, With sacrifice to honour thee, With beasts, fowls, as thou may see, I offer here right soon.

_God._ Noah, to me thou art full able, And thy sacrifice acceptable, For I have found thee true and stable, On thee now must I myn.[46] Curse earth will I no more That man's sin it grieves sore, For of youth man full of yore Has been inclined to sin. You shall now grow and multiply And earth you edify, Each beast and fowl that may flie Shall be afraid for you. And fish in sea that may flitt Shall sustain you--I you behite[47] To eat of them you not lett[48] That clean be you may know. There as you have eaten before Grasses and roots, since you were born, Of clean beasts, less and more, I give you leave to eat. Save blood and fish both in fear Of wrong dead carrion that is here, Eat not of that in no manner, For that aye you shall lett.[49] Manslaughter also you shall flee, For that is not pleasant to me That sheds blood, he or she Ought where among mankind. That sheds blood, his blood shall be And vengeance have, that men shall see; Therefore now beware now all ye You fall not in that sin. And forward now with you I make And all thy seed, for thy sake, Of such vengeance for to slake, For now I have my will. Here I promise thee a behest,[50] That man, woman, fowl, nor beast With water while the world shall last, I will no more spill. My bow between you and me In the firmament shall be, By very tokens, that you may see That such vengeance shall cease. That man, nor woman, shall never more Be wasted by water, as is before, But for sin that grieveth sore, Therefore this vengeance was. Where clouds in the welkin That each bow shall be seen, In token that my wrath or tene[51] Should never this wroken be. The string is turned toward you, And toward me bent is the bow, That such weather shall never show, And this do I grant to thee. My blessing now I give thee here, To thee Noah, my servant dear; For vengeance shall no more appear; And now farewell, my darling dear!

THE CHESTER PAGEANT OF THE BARBERS AND WAX-CHANDLERS REPRESENTING ABRAHAM, MELCHISEDEC, AND ISAAC

Characters

God Abraham Lot Isaac Melchisedec A Knight Expositor A Messenger

The Chester Pageant Of Abraham, Melchisedec, And Isaac

Abraham, _newly returned from the slaughter of the four kings, meets_ Melchisedec _riding_.

Prelude

_Messenger._ All peace, Lordings, that be present, And hearken now with good intent, How Noah away from us he went With all his company; And Abraham, through God's grace, He is come forth into this place, And you will give him room and space To tell you his storye. This play, forsooth, begin shall he, In worship of the Trinity, That you may all hear and see What shall be done to-day. My name is Gobbet-on-the-Green, No longer here I may be seen, Farewell, my Lordings, all by dene[52] For letting[53] of your play.

[_Exit._

[_Enter Abraham._]

_Abraham._ Ah! thou high God, granter of grace That ending nor beginning has, I thank thee, Lord, that to me has To-day given victory. Lot, my brother, that taken was, I have restored him in this case, And brought him home into his place Through thy might and mastery. To worship thee I will not wond,[54] That four kings of uncouth land To-day hast sent into my hand, And of riches great array. Therefore of all that I can win To give thee tithe I will begin, When I the city soon come in, And share with thee my prey. Melchisedec, that here king is And God's priest also, I wis, The tithe I will give him of this, As just is, what I do. God who has sent me victory O'er four kings graciously, With him my spoil share will I, The city, when I come to.

_Lot._ Abraham, brother, I thank it thee, Who this day hast delivered me From enemies' hands, and their postye,[55] And saved me from woe! Therefore I will give tithing Of my goods while I am living, And now also of his sending, Tithe I will give also.

[_Then comes a knight to Melchisedec._

_Knight._ My lord, the king's tidings aright Your heart for to gladden and light: Abraham hath slain in fight Four kings, since he went. Here he will be this same night, And riches with him enough dight. I heard him thank God Almight For grace he had him sent.

_Melchisedec_ (_stretching his hand to heaven_). Ah! blessed be God that is but one! Against Abraham I will be gone Worshipfully, and then anon, My office to fulfil, Will present him with bread and wine, For, grace of God is him within; Speeds fast for love mine! For this is God's will.

_Knight_ (_with a cup_). Sir, here is wine withouten were,[56] And thereto bread, both white and clear, To present him in good manere That so us helped has.

_Melchisedec._ To God, I know he is full dear, For of all things his prayer He hath, without danger, And specially great grace.

_Melchisedec_ (_coming to Abraham and offering him a cup of wine and bread on a plate_). Abraham, welcome must thou be, God's grace is fully in thee, Blessed ever must thou be That enemies so can make. I have brought, as thou may'st see, Bread and wine for thy degree; Receive this present now from me, And that I thee beseke.[57]

_Abraham._ Sir king, welcome in good say, Thy present is welcome to my pay. God has helpéd me to-day Unworthy though I were. He shall have part of my prey That I won since I went away. Therefore to thee thou take it may The tenth I offer here.

[_He delivers to the King a laden horse._

_Melchisedec._ And your present, sir, take I, And honour it devoutly, For much good it may signify In time that is coming. Therefore horse, harness, and peryé,[58] As falls to my dignity, The tithe of it I take of thee, And receive thy off'ring.

[_Abraham receives the bread and wine, and Melchisedec the laden horse as tithe from Lot._

_Lot._ And I will offer with good intent Of such goods as God hath me sent To Melchisedec here present, As God's will is to be. Abraham, my brother, offered has; And so will I with God's grace: This royal cup before your face, Receive it now of me.

[_Lot offers the wine and bread, which Melchisedec receives._

_Melchisedec._ Sir, your off'ring welcome is, And well I know forsooth, I wis, That fully God's will it is That is now done to-day. Go we together to my city, And now God heartily thank we That helps us aye through his postye,[59] For so we full well may.

_Expositor_ (_riding_). Lordings, what may this signify, I will expound openly That all, standing hereby, May know what this may be. This off'ring, I say verament,[60] Signifieth the new Testament, That now is used with good intent Throughout all Christianity. In the old law without leasing,[61] When these two good men were living, Of beasts was all their off'ring And eke their sacrament. But since Christ died on the rood-tree, With bread and wine him worship we, And on Shrove Thursday in his maundy[62] Was his commandment. But for this thing used should be Afterward as now done we, In signification, believe you me, Melchisedec did so; And tithes-making, as you see here, Of Abraham beginning were. Therefore he was to God full dear, And so were they both too. By Abraham understand I may The father of heaven in good fay,[63] Melchisedec a priest to his pay To minister that sacrament That Christ ordained on Shrove Thursday In bread and wine to honour him aye; This signifieth, the truth to say, Melchisedec's present.

_God._ Abraham, my servant, I say to thee, Thy help and succour I will be, For thy good deed much pleaseth me, I tell thee surely.

_Abraham._ Lord, one thing that thou wilt see, That I pray after with heart free, Grant me, Lord, through thy postye:[64] Some fruit of my body! I have no child, foul nor fair, Save my Nurry[65] to be my heir, That makes me greatly to apayre.[66] On me, Lord, have mercy!

_God._ My friend, Abraham, leave thou me. Thy Nurry thine heir shall not be, But one son I shall send thee, Begotten of thy body. Abraham, do as I thee say: Look up and tell,[67] and if thou may, Stars standing on the stray; That impossible were. No more shalt thou, for no need, Number of thy body the seed That thou shalt have withouten dreed, Thou art to me so dear. Wherefore, Abraham, servant free, Look that thou be true to me, And fore-word here I make with thee Thy seed to multiply. So much more further shalt thou be, Kings of thy seed men shall see, And one child of great degree All mankind shall forby.[68] I will that from henceforth alway Each knave's child on the eighth day Be circumcised, as I say, And thou thyself full soon; And who circumcised not is Forsaken shall be by me, I wis; For disobedient that man is, Therefore look that this be done.

_Abraham._ Lord, already in good fay[69] Blessed be thou, ever and aye; For that men truly know may Thy folk from other men, Circumcised they shall be all Anon for aught that may befall. I thank thee, Lord, thy own thrall, Kneeling on my knee'n.

_Expositor._ Lordings all take good intent What betokens this commandment: This was some time a sacrament In th' old law truly ta'en. As followeth now verament,[70] So was this in the old Testament; But when Christ, away it went, And baptism then began. Also God promises here To Abraham, his servant dear, So much seed that in no manere Number'd it might be. And one seed, mankind to forby, That was Jesus Christ witterlye[71] For of his kind was our Lady, And so also was he.

_God._ Abraham, my servant Abraham.

_Abraham._ Lo, Lord, already here I am.

_God._ Take Isaac, thy son by name That thou lovest best of all And in sacrifice offer him to me Upon that hill, beside thee. Abraham, I will that it so be For aught that may befall.

_Abraham._ My lord, to thee is my intent Ever to be obedient, That son that thou to me hast sent, Offer I will to thee. And fulfil thy commandment With hearty will, as I am kent High God, Lord Omnipotent, Thy bidding done shall be. My menye[72] and my children each one Lingers at home, both all and one, Save Isaac shall with me gone To a hill here beside.

* * * * *

[_Enter Isaac._

_Abraham._ Make thee ready, my darling, For we must do a little thing. This wood upon thy back thou bring, We must not long abide. A sword and fire I will take, For sacrifice I must make; God's bidding will I not forsake, But aye obedient be.

_Isaac._ Father, I am all ready To do your bidding meekly, To bear this wood full bound am I, As you command me.

_Abraham._ O Isaac, Isaac, my darling dear, My blessing now I give thee here. Take up this faggot with good cheer, And on thy back it bring, And fire with me I will take.

_Isaac._ Your bidding I will not forsake, Father, I will never slake[73] To fulfil your bidding.

[_Isaac takes the wood on his back, and they set out for the hill._

_Abraham._ Now Isaac, son, go we our way To yonder mountain, if that we may.

_Isaac._ My dear father, I will essay To follow you full fain.

_Abraham._ Oh! my heart will break in three, To hear thy words I have pity. As thou wilt, Lord, so must it be: To thee I will be bane. Lay down thy faggot my own son dear!

_Isaac._ All ready, father, lo, it is here. But why make you so heavy cheer? Are you anything adread? Father, if it be your will, Where is the beast that we shall kill?

_Abraham._ There is none, son, upon this hill That I see here in this stead.

_Isaac._ Father, I am full sore afraid To see you bare this naked sword. I hope for all middle-yard[74] You will not slay your child.

_Abraham._ Dread thee not, my child, I read Our Lord will send of his godhead Some kind of beast in thy stead, Either tame or wild.

_Isaac._ Father, tell me, or I go, Whether I shall have harm or no.

_Abraham._ Ah, dear God, that me is woe! Thou bursts my heart in sunder.

_Isaac._ Father, tell me of this case, Why you your drawn sword has, And bare it naked in this place; Thereof I have great wonder.

_Abraham._ Isaac, son, peace! I pray thee, Thou breaks my heart even in three.

_Isaac._ I pray you, father, leave nothing from me, But tell me what you think.

_Abraham._ O Isaac, Isaac, I must thee kill.

_Isaac._ Alas! father, is that your will, Your own child here for to spill, Upon this hill's brink? If I have trespassed in any degree, With a rod you may beat me; Put up your sword, if your will be, For I am but a child.

_Abraham._ Oh, my son! I am sorry To do to thee this great annoy, God's commandment do must I, His works are aye full mild.

_Isaac._ Would God, my mother were here with me! She would kneel upon her knee, Praying you, father, if it might be, For to save my life.

_Abraham._ Oh, comely creature, but I thee kill, I grieve my God, and that full ill: I may not work against his will But ever obedient be. O Isaac, son, to thee I say: God has commanded me this day Sacrifice--this is no nay-- To make of thy body.

_Isaac._ Is it God's will I should be slain?

_Abraham._ Yea, son, it is not for to layne;[75] To his bidding I will be bane,[76] Ever to his pleasing. But that I do this doleful deed, My Lord will not quit[77] me my meed.[78]

_Isaac._ Marry! father, God forbid But you do your off'ring. Father, at home your sons you shall find That you must love by course of kind. Be I once out of your mind, Your sorrow may soon cease, But you must do God's bidding. Father, tell my mother of nothing.

_Abraham._ For sorrow I may my hands wring, Thy mother I cannot please. O Isaac, blessed may'st thou be! Almost my wit I lose for thee, The blood of thy body so free I feel full loth to shed.

_Isaac._ Father, since you must needs do so, Let it pass lightly and overgo; Kneeling on my knees two, Your blessing on me spread!

_Abraham._ My blessing, dear son, give I thee And thy mother's with heart so free; The blessing of the Trinity, My dear son, on thee light!

_Isaac._ Father, I pray you hide mine een That I see not your sword so keen; Your stroke, father, I would not seen, Lest I against it thrill.

_Abraham._ My dear son Isaac, speak no more, Thy words make my heart full sore.

_Isaac._ O dear father, wherefore, wherefore? Since I must needs be dead, One thing I would you pray: Since I must die the death this day, As few strokes as you may, When you smite off my head.

_Abraham._ Thy meekness, child, makes me afray;[79] My song may be "Well away!"

_Isaac._ O, dear father, do away Your making so mickle moan! Now truly, father, this talking Doth but make long tarrying. I pray you come and make ending And let me hence gone!

_Abraham._ Come hither, my child, that art so sweet: Thou must be bound now, hand and feet.

[_Binding Isaac._

_Isaac._ Ah, father! we must no more meet By aught that I can see, But do with me just as you will, I must obey, and that is skill, God's commandment to fulfil, For needs so must it be. Upon the purpose that have set you, Forsooth, father, I will not let you, But evermore unto you bow, While that I may. Father, greet well my brethren young, And pray my mother for her blessing, I come no more under her wing: Farewell for ever and aye! But, father, I cry you mercy, Of that I have trespassed to thee, Forgiven, father, that it may be Until doom's day.

_Abraham._ My dear son, let be thy moans; My child, thou grievedst me but once. Blessed be thou body and bones, And I forgive thee here. Lo, my dear son, here shalt thou lie; Unto my work now must I hie, I had as lief myself to die As thou, my darling dear.

_Isaac._ Father, if you be to me kind, About my head a kercher[80] bind, And let me lightly out of your mind, And soon that I were sped.

_Abraham._ Farewell, my sweet son of grace!

_Isaac._ I pray you, father, turn down my face A little while, while you have space, For I am full sore adread.

_Abraham._ To do this deed I am sorry.

_Isaac._ Yea, Lord, to thee I call and cry: On my soul may thou have mercy, Heartily I thee pray.

_Abraham._ Lord, I would fain work thy will. This young innocent that lies so still Full loth were I him to kill By any manner of way.

_Isaac._ My dear father, I you pray, Let me take my clothes away, For shedding blood on them to-day, At my last ending.

_Abraham._ Heart! if thou would'st break in three, Thou shalt never master me, I will no longer let[81] for thee, My God I may not grieve.

_Isaac._ Ah, mercy, father! why tarry you so? Smite off my head, and let me go! I pray you, rid me of my woe; For now I take my leave.

_Abraham._ Ah, son! my heart will break in three To hear thee speak such words to me. Jesus, on me thou have pitý That I have most in mind!

_Isaac._ Now, father, I see that I shall die, Almighty God in majestý, My soul I offer unto thee: Lord, to it be kind.

[_Abraham takes the sword, as if to kill his son, when two angels appear. One of them seizes the point of the sword, and says,_

_1st Angel._ Abraham, my servant dear!

_Abraham._ Lo, Lord! I am already here.

_1st Angel._ Lay not thy sword in any manner On Isaac, thy dear darling! Nay! do thou him no annoy! For thou dreadest God; well, see I, That of thy son hast no mercy To fulfil his bidding.

_2nd Angel._ And for his bidding thou doest aye, And spares neither, for fear nor fray, To do thy son to death to-day, Isaac to thee full dear, Therefore God has sent by me in fay,[82] A lamb that is both good and gay Into this place as thou see may, Lo! it is right here.

_Abraham._ Ah, Lord of heaven and king of bliss! Thy bidding I shall do, I wis. Sacrifice here to me sent is And all, Lord, through thy grace. A horned wether here I see, Among the briars tied is he, To thee offered it shall be Anon, right in this place.

[_Let Abraham sacrifice the ram._

_God._ Abraham, by myself I swear, For thou hast been obedient ever, And spared not thy son so dear, To fulfil my bidding, Thou shalt be blessed, thou art worthy, Thy seed I shall multiply, As stars and sand so many het I,[83] Of thy body coming. Of enemies thou shalt have power, And thy blood also in fear, For thou has been meek and boneer[84] To do as I thee bade. And all nations leave thou me, Blessed evermore shall be Through fruit that shall come of thee And saved through thy seed.

The Epilogue

_Expositor._ Lordings, the signification Of this deed of devotion, An you will, it is shewn, May turn you to much good. This deed you see done in this place, In example of Jesus done it was, That for to win mankind grace Was sacrificed on the rood. By Abraham you may understand The Father of heaven that can fand[85] With his son's blood to break that band The devil had brought us to. By Isaac understand I may Jesus who was obedient aye, His father's will to work alway, His death to undergo.

The Wakefield Second Shepherds' Play

Characters

1st Shepherd 2nd Shepherd 3rd Shepherd Mac, _the Sheep-stealer_ Mac's Wife, Gill Mary The Child Christ An Angel

The Wakefield Second Nativity Play

_1st Shepherd._ Lord! what, these weathers are cold, and I am ill happed; I am near hand-dold,[86] so long have I napped; My legs bend and fold, my fingers are chapped, It is not as I would, for I am all lapped In sorrow. In storms and tempest, Now in the east, now in the west, Woe is him has never rest, Mid day nor morrow. But we silly shepherds, that walk upon the moor, In faith, we are near hands out of the door; No wonder, as it stands, if we be poor, For the tilth of our lands lies fallow as the floor, We are so lamed, So taxed and shamed, We are made hand-tamed, With these gentlery-men. Thus they rieve us of rest, Our Lady them wary, These men that are lord-fest,[87] they cause the plough tarry. That men say is for the best, we find it contrary, Thus are husbands[88] opprest, in point to miscarry, In life. Thus hold they us under, Thus they bring us in blunder, It were great wonder, And ever should we thrive. For may he get a paint sleeve,[89] or a brooch now on days, Woe is he that shall grieve, or once again says, Dare no man him reprieve, what mast'ry he has, And yet may none believe one word that he says-- No letter. He can make purveyance, With boast and bragance,[90] And all through maintenance, Of men that are greater. There shall come a swain, as proud as a po,[91] He must borrow my wain, my plough also, Then I am full fain to grant or he go. Thus live we in pain, anger, and woe, By night and day; He must have if he longéd If I should forgang[92] it, I were better be hangéd Than once say him nay. It does me good, as I walk thus by mine own, Of this world for to talk in manner of moan To my sheep will I stalk and hearken anon There abide on a balk, or sit on a stone Full soon. For I trow, pardie! True men if they be, We get more company Or it be noon.

_2nd Shepherd._ "Beniste"[93] and "Dominus!" what may this bemean? Why fares this world thus, oft have we not seen. Lord, these weathers are spitous,[94] and the weather full keen; And the frost so hideous they water mine een, No lie. Now in dry, now in wet, Now in snow, now in sleet, When my shoon freeze to my feet It is not all easy. But as far as I ken, or yet as I go, We silly wed-men dree mickle woe;[95] We have sorrow then and then, it falls often so, Silly capyl, our hen, both to and fro She cackles, But begin she to croak, To groan or to cluck, Woe is him, say of our cock, For he is in the shackles. These men that are wed, have not all their will, When they are full hard sted,[96] they sigh full still; God wait they are led full hard and full ill, In bower nor in bed they say not there till This tide. My part have I found, My lesson is learn'd, Woe is him that is bound, For he must abide. But now late in our lives, a marvel to me, That I think my heart rives,[97] such wonders to see, What that destiny drives it should so be, Some men will have two wives, and some men three, In store. Some are woe that have any; But so far ken I, Woe is he who has many, For he feels it sore. But young men of wooing, for God that you bought, Be well ware of wedding, and think in your thought "Had I wist" is a thing it serves ye of nought; Mickle still mourning has wedding home brought, And griefs, With many a sharp shower, For thou may catch in an hour That shall serve thee full sour As long as thou lives. For as read I epistle, I have one to my fear As sharp as a thistle, as rough as a brere.[98] She is browed like a bristle with a sour lenten cheer; Had she once wet her whistle she could sing full clear Her pater-noster. She is as great as a whale, She has a gallon of gall; By him that died for us all! I would I had run till I lost her.

_1st Shepherd._ God look over the row, full deafly ye stand.

_2nd Shepherd._ Yea, the devil in thy maw!--so tariand,[99] Saw thou aught now of Daw?

_1st Shepherd._ Yea, on a lea land Heard I him blow, he comes here at hand, Not far; Stand still.

_2nd Shepherd._ Why?

_1st Shepherd._ For he comes here, hope I.

_2nd Shepherd._ He will make us both a lie, But if we beware.

_3rd Shepherd._ Christ's cross me speed, and Saint Nicholas! Thereof had I need, it is worse than it was. Whoso could take heed, and let the world pass, It is ever in dread and brittle as glass, And slithers,[100] This world fared never so, With marvels mo and mo,[101] Now in weal, now in woe, And all things withers. Was never since Noah's flood such floods seen, Winds and rains so rude, and storms so keen, Some stammered, some stood in doubt, as I ween, Now God turn all to good, I say as I mean, For ponder. These floods so they drown Both in fields and in town, They bear all down, And that is a wonder. We that walk in the nights, our cattle to keep, We see sudden sights, when other men sleep: Yet methinks my heart lights, I see shrews peep, Ye are two, all wights,[102] I will give my sheep A turn. But full ill have I meant, As I walk on this bent,[103] I may lightly repent, My toes if I spurn. Ah, sir, God you save, and master mine! A drink fain would I have and somewhat to dine.

_1st Shepherd._ Christ's curs, my knave, thou art a lazy hyne.[104]

_2nd Shepherd._ What, the boy list rave. Abide until syne[105] We have made it. I'll thrift on thy pate! Though the shrew came late Yet is he in state To dine if he had it.

_3rd Shepherd._ Such servants as I, that sweats and swinks, Eats our bread full dry, and that me forthinks; We are oft wet and weary when master men winks, Yet comes full lately both dinners and drinks, But neatly. Both our dame and our sire, When we have run in the mire, They can nip at our hire,[106] And pay us full lately. But hear my truth, master, for the fare that ye make I shall do thereafter work, as I take; I shall do a little, sir, and strive and still lack, For yet lay my supper never on my stomack In fields. Whereto should I threap?[107] With my staff can I leap, And men say "light cheap Letherly for yields."[108]

_1st Shepherd._ Thou wert an ill lad, to ride on wooing With a man that had but little of spending.

_2nd Shepherd._ Peace, boy!--I bade: no more jangling, Or I shall make thee afraid, by the heaven's king! With thy gawds; Where are our sheep, boy, we scorn?

_3rd Shepherd._ Sir, this same day at morn, I them left in the corn, When they rang lauds; They have pasture good, they cannot go wrong.

_1st Shepherd._ That is right by the rood, these nights are long, Yet I would, or we yode,[109] one gave us a song.

_2nd Shepherd._ So I thought as I stood, to mirth us among.[110]

_3rd Shepherd._ I grant.

_1st Shepherd._ Let me sing the tenory.

_2nd Shepherd._ And I the treble so high.

_3rd Shepherd._ Then the mean falls to me; Let see how ye chaunt.

[_Mac enters, with a cloak thrown over his smock._

_Mac._ Now, Lord, for thy names seven, that made both moon and starns[111] Well more than I can even: thy will, Lord, of my thorns; I am all uneven, that moves oft my horns,[112] Now would God I were in heaven, for there weep no bairns So still.

_1st Shepherd._ Who is that pipes so poor?

_Mac._ Would God ye knew how I fare! Lo, a man that walks on the moor, And has not all his will.

_2nd Shepherd._ Mac, where hast thou gone? Tell us tidings.

_3rd Shepherd._ Is he come? Then each one take heed to his things.

[_Takes his cloak from him._

_Mac._ What, I am a yeoman, I tell you, of the king; The self and the same, sent from a great lording, And sich.[113] Fy on you, get thee hence, Out of my presence, I must have reverence, Why, who be ich?[114]

_1st Shepherd._ Why make ye it so quaint? Mac, ye do wrong.

_2nd Shepherd._ But, Mac, list, ye saint? I trow that ye sang.

_3rd Shepherd._ I trow the shrew can paint, the devil might him hang!

_Mac._ I shall make complaint, and make you all to thwang.[115] At a word, And tell even how ye doth.

_1st Shepherd._ But, Mac, is that sooth? Now take out that southern tooth, And set in a tord.

_2nd Shepherd._ Mac, the devil in your ee,[116] a stroke would I lend you.

_3rd Shepherd._ Mac, know ye not me? By God, I could tell you.

_Mac._ God look you all three, methought I had seen you. Ye are a fair company.

_1st Shepherd._ Can ye now moan you?

_2nd Shepherd._ Shrew, jape![117] Thus late as thou goes, What will men suppose? And thou hast an ill noise[118] Of stealing of sheep.

_Mac._ And I am true as steel all men wait, But a sickness I feel, that holds me full haytt,[119] My belly fares not well, it is out of its state.

_3rd Shepherd._ Seldom lies the devil dead by the gate.

_Mac._ Therefore Full sore am I and ill, If I stand stock still; I eat not a nedyll[120] This month and more.

_1st Shepherd._ How fares thy wife? By my hood, how fares she?

_Mac._ Lies weltering! by the rood! by the fire, lo! And a house full of brood,[121] she drinks well too, Ill speed other good that she will do; But so Eats as fast as she can, And each year that comes to man, She brings forth a lakan,[122] And some years two. But were I not more gracious, and richer by far, I were eaten out of house, and of harbour, Yet is she a foul dowse, if ye come near. There is none that trows, nor knows, a war[123] Than ken I. Now will ye see what I proffer, To give all in my coffer To-morrow next to offer, Her head mass-penný.

_2nd Shepherd._ I wot so forwaked[124] is none in this shire: I would sleep if I taked less to my hire.

_3rd Shepherd._ I am cold and naked, and would have a fire.

_1st Shepherd._ I am weary for-raked,[125] and run in the mire. Wake thou!

_2nd Shepherd._ Nay, I will lie down-by, For I must sleep truly.

_3rd Shepherd._ As good a man's son was I As any of you. But, Mac, come hither, between us shalt thou lie.

_Mac._ Then might I stay you bedene[126]: of that ye would say,-- No dread. From my head to my toe _Mantis tuas commendo, Pontio Pilato._[127] Christ's cross me speed,

[_He rises, the shepherds sleeping, and says:_

Now were time for a man, that lacks what he wold, To stalk privately then into a fold, And namely to work then, and be not too bold, He might abide the bargain, if it were told At the ending. Now were time for to revel; But he needs good counsel That fain would fare well, And has but little spending.

[_Mac works a spell on them._

But about you a circle, as round as a moon, Till I have done that I will, till that it be noon, That ye lie stone-still, till that I have done, And I shall say there till of good words a foyn[128] On height; Over your heads my hand I lift, Out go your eyes, fore to do your sight, But yet I must make better shift, And it be right. What, Lord? they sleep hard! that may ye all hear; Was I never a shepherd, but now will I leer[129] If the flock be scared, yet shall I nap near, Who draws hitherward, now mends our cheer, From sorrow: A fat sheep I dare say, A good fleece dare I lay, Eft white when I may, But this will I borrow.

[_He steals a sheep and goes home._

_Mac_ (_at his own door_). How, Gill, art thou in? Get us some light.

_His Wife._ Who makes such din this time of night? I am set for to spin: I hope not I might Rise a penny to win: I shrew them on height. So fares A housewife that has been To be raised thus between: There may no note be seen For such small chares.[130]

_Mac._ Good wife, open the hek.[131] See'st thou not what I bring?

_Wife._ I may let thee draw the sneck. Ah! come in, my sweeting.

_Mac._ Yea, thou dost not reck of my long standing.

_Wife._ By thy naked neck, thou art like for to hang.

_Mac._ Go away: I am worthy of my meat, For in a strait can I get More than they that swinck[132] and sweat All the long day, Thus it fell to my lot, Gill, I had such grace.

_Wife._ It were a foul blot to be hanged for the case.

_Mac._ I have scaped, Jelott, oft as hard as glass.

_Wife._ "But so long goes the pot to the water," men says, "At last comes it home broken."

_Mac._ Well know I the token, But let it never be spoken; But come and help fast. I would he were flayn;[133] I list we'll eat: This twelvemonth was I not so fain of one sheep-meat.

_Wife._ Come they if he be slain, and hear the sheep bleat?

_Mac._ Then might I be ta'en: that were a cold sweat. Go bar The gate door.

_Wife._ Yes, Mac, For and they come at thy back.

_Mac._ Then might I pay for all the pack: The devil of them war![134]

_Wife._ A good bowrde[135] have I spied, since thou can none: Here shall we him hide, till they be gone; In my cradle abide. Let me alone, And I shall lie beside in childbed and groan.

_Mac._ Thou red?[136] And I shall say thou wast light Of a knave child this night.

_Wife._ Now well is my day bright, That ever I was bred. This is a good guise and a far cast; Yet a woman's advice helps at the last. I care never who spies: again go thou fast.

_Mac._ But I come or they rise; else blows a cold blast-- I will go sleep. [_Mac goes back to the field._ Yet sleep all this menye,[137] And I shall go stalk privily, As it had never been I That carried their sheep.

_1st Shepherd._ _Resurrex à mortrius_: have hold my hand. _Judas carnas dominus_, I may not well stand: My foot sleeps, by Jesus, and I water fastand! I thought that we laid us full near England.

_2nd Shepherd._ Ah ye! Lord, how I have slept weel! As fresh as an eel, As light I me feel As leaf on a tree.

_3rd Shepherd._ Benste![138] be herein! So my head quakes My heart is out of skin, what so it makes. Who makes all this din? So my brow aches, To the door will I win. Hark fellows, wakes! We were four: See ye anything of Mac now?

_1st Shepherd._ We were up ere thou.

_2nd Shepherd._ Man, I give God a vow, Yet heed he nowhere.

_3rd Shepherd._ Methought he was wrapped in a wolf's-skin.

_1st Shepherd._ So are many happed, now namely within.

_2nd Shepherd._ When we had long napped; methought with a gin A fat sheep he trapped, but he made no din.

_3rd Shepherd._ Be still: Thy dream makes thee wood:[139] It is but phantom, by the rood.

_1st Shepherd._ Now God turn all to good, If it be his will.

_2nd Shepherd._ Rise, Mac, for shame! thou ly'st right long.

_Mac._ Now Christ, his holy name be us amang, What is this? for Saint James!--I may not well gang. I trust I be the same. Ah! my neck has lain wrang Enough Mickle thank, since yester-even Now, by Saint Stephen! I was flayed with a sweven,--[140] My heart out of slough.[141] I thought Gill began to croak, and travail full sad, Well nigh at the first cock,--of a young lad, For to mend our flock: then be I never glad. To have two on my rock,--more than ever I had. Ah, my head! A house full of young tharmes,[142] The devil knock out their harnes![143] Woe is he has many bairns, And thereto little bread. I must go home, by your leave, to Gill as I thought. I pray you look my sleeve, that I steal nought: I am loth you to grieve, or from you take aught.

_3rd Shepherd._ Go forth, ill might thou chefe,[144] now would I we sought, This morn, That we had all our store.

_1st Shepherd._ But I will go before, Let us meet.

_2nd Shepherd._ Whor?[145]

_3rd Shepherd._ At the crooked thorn.

_Mac (at his own door again)._ Undo this door! who is here? How long shall I stand?

_Wife._ Who makes such a stir?--Now walk in the wenyand.[146]

_Mac._ Ah, Gill, what cheer?--It is I, Mac, your husband.

_His Wife._ Then may we be here,--the devil in a band, Sir Gile. Lo, he commys[147] with a lot, As he were holden in the throat. I may not sit, work or not A hand long while.

_Mac._ Will ye hear what fare she makes--to get her a glose,[148] And do naught but lakes[149]--and close her toes.

_Wife._ Why, who wanders, who wakes,--who comes, who goes? Who brews, who bakes? Who makes for me this hose? And then It is ruth to behold, Now in hot, now in cold, Full woful is the household That wants a woman. But what end hast thou made with the herds, Mac?

_Mac._ The last word that they said,--when I turned my back, They would look that they had--their sheep all the pack. I hope they will not be well paid,--when they their sheep lack. Perdie! But howso the game goes, To me they will suppose, And make a foul noise, And cry out upon me. But thou must do as thou hight,

_Wife._ I accord me thertylle.[150] I shall swaddle him right in my cradle. If it were a greater slight, yet could I help till. I will lie down straight. Come hap me.

_Mac._ I will.

_Wife._ Behind, Come Coll and his marrow, They will nip us full narrow.

_Mac._ But I may cry out "Harro!"[151] The sheep if they find.

_Wife._ Hearken aye when they call: they will come anon. Come and make ready all, and sing by thine own, Sing "Lullay!" thou shall, for I must groan, And cry out by the wall on Mary and John, For sore. Sing "Lullay" full fast When thou hears at the last; And but I play a false cast Trust me no more.

[_Re-enter the Three Shepherds._]

_3rd Shepherd._ Ah, Coll! good morn:--why sleepest thou not?

_1st Shepherd._ Alas, that ever was I born!--we have a foul blot. A fat wether have we lorne.[152]

_3rd Shepherd._ Marry, Godys forbot![153]

_2nd Shepherd._ Who should do us that scorn? That were a foul spot.

_1st Shepherd._ Some shrew. I have sought with my dogs, All Horbery shrogs,[154] And of fifteen hogs Found I but one ewe.

_3rd Shepherd._ Now trust me if you will;--by Saint Thomas of Kent! Either Mac or Gill--was at that assent.

_1st Shepherd._ Peace, man, be still;--I saw when he went. Thou slander'st him ill; thou ought to repent. Good speed.

_2nd Shepherd._ Now as ever might I thee, If I should even here dee,[155] I would say it were he, That did that same deed.

_3rd Shepherd._ Go we thither I rede,[156]--and run on our feet. May I never eat bread,--the truth till I wit.

_1st Shepherd._ Nor drink, in my heed,--with him till I meet.

_2nd Shepherd._ I will rest in no stead, till that I him greet, My brother One I will hight:[157] Till I see him in sight Shall I never sleep one night There I do another.

_3rd Shepherd._ Will ye hear how they hack,[158]--Our Sire! list, how they croon!

_1st Shepherd._ Hard I never none crack,--so clear out of tune. Call on him.

_2nd Shepherd._ Mac! undo your door soon.

_Mac._ Who is it that spoke,--as it were noon? On loft, Who is that I say?

_3rd Shepherd._ Good fellows! were it day?

_Mac._ As far as ye may,-- Good, speak ye soft! Over a sick woman's head,--that is ill mate ease, I had liefer be dead,--or she had any disease.

_Wife._ Go to another stead; I may not well queasse[159] Each foot that ye tread--goes near make me sneeze[160] So he!

_1st Shepherd._ Tell us, Mac, if ye may, How fare ye, I say?

_Mac._ But are ye in this town to-day? Now how fare ye? Ye have run in the mire, and are wet yit: I shall make you a fire, if ye will sit. A horse would I hire; think ye on it. Well quit is my hire, my dream--this is it. A season. I have bairns if ye knew, Well more than enew,[161] But we must drink as we brew, And that is but reason. I would ye dined e'er ye yode:[162] methink that ye sweat.

_2nd Shepherd._ Nay, neither mends our mode, drink nor meat.

_Mac._ Why, sir, ails you aught, but good?

_3rd Shepherd._ Yes, our sheep that we gat, Are stolen as they yode.[163] Our loss is great.

_Mac._ Sirs, drinkýs! Had I been there, Some should have bought it full dear.

_1st Shepherd._ Marry, some men trows that ye were, And that us forethinkýs.[164]

_2nd Shepherd._ Mac, some men trows that it should be ye.

_3rd Shepherd._ Either ye or your spouse; so say we.

_Mac._ Now if ye have suspouse[165] to Gill or to me, Come and rip our house, and then may ye see Who had her. If I any sheep got, Either cow or stot, And Gill, my wife rose not Here since she laid her. As I am both true and leal, to God here I pray, That this be the first meal, I shall eat this day.

_1st Shepherd._ Mac, as I have weal, arise thee, I say! "He learned timely to steal, that could not say nay."

_Wife._ I swelt.[166] Out thieves from my once! Ye come to rob us for the nonce.

_Mac._ Hear ye not how she groans? Your heart should melt.

_Wife._ Out thieves, from my bairn! Nigh him not thore.

_Mac._ Knew ye how she had farne,[167] your hearts would be sore. Ye do wrong, I you warn, that thus commys before To a woman that has farn;[168] but I say no more.

_Wife._ Ah, my middle! I pray to God so mild, If ever I you beguiled, That I eat this child, That lies in this cradle.

_Mac._ Peace, woman, for God's pain, and cry not so: Thou spill'st thy brain, and mak'st me full woe.

_2nd Shepherd._ I know our sheep be slain, what find ye too?

_3rd Shepherd._ All work we in vain: as well may we go. But hatters.[169] I can find no flesh, Hard nor nesh,[170] Salt nor fresh, But two tome[171] platters: No cattle but this, tame nor wild, None, as have I bliss; as loud as he smiled.

_Wife._ No, so God me bliss, and give me joy of my child.

_1st Shepherd._ We have markëd amiss: I hold us beguiled.

_2nd Shepherd._ Sir, done! Sir, our lady him save, Is your child a knave?[172]

_Mac._ Any lord might him have This child to his son. When he wakens he skips, that joy is to see.

_3rd Shepherd._ In good time, be his steps, and happy they be! But who was his gossips, tell now to me!

_Mac._ So fair fall their lips!

_1st Shepherd (aside)._ Hark now, a lee![173]

_Mac._ So God them thank, Parkin, and Gibbon Waller, I say, And gentle John Horne, in good fay,[174] He made all the garray,[175] With the great shank.

_2nd Shepherd._ Mac, friends will we be, for we are all one.

_Mac._ Why! now I hold for me, for help get I none. Farewell all three: all glad were ye gone.

_3rd Shepherd._ Fair words may there be, but love there is none.

_1st Shepherd._ Gave ye the child anything?

_2nd Shepherd._ I trust not one farthing.

_3rd Shepherd._ Fast again will I fling, Abide ye me there. [_He returns to Mac's cot._ Mac, take it to no grief, if I come to thy barn.

_Mac._ Nay, thou dost me great reprieve, and foul hast thou farne.[176]

_3rd Shepherd._ The child will it not grieve, that little day starn.[177] Mac, with your leave, let me give your bairn, But sixpence.

_Mac._ Nay, go 'way: he sleepys.

_3rd Shepherd._ Methink he peepys.

_Mac._ When he wakens he weepys. I pray you go hence.

_3rd Shepherd._ Give me leave him to kiss, and lift up the clout. What the devil is this? He has a long snout.

_1st Shepherd._ He is marked amiss. We wait ill about.

_2nd Shepherd._ Ill spun weft, I wis, aye cometh foul out; Aye so; He is like to our sheep.

_3rd Shepherd._ How, Gib, may I peep?

_1st Shepherd._ I trow, kind will creep, Where it may not go.

_2nd Shepherd._ This was a quaint gaud,[178] and a far cast It was a high fraud.

_3rd Shepherd._ Yea, sirs, was't. Let burn this bawd and bind her fast. A false skawd[179] hangs at the last; So shall thou. Will ye see how they swaddle His four feet in the middle? Saw I never in a cradle A hornëd lad e'er now.

_Mac._ Peace bid I: what! let be your fare; I am he that him gat, and yond woman him bare.

_1st Shepherd._ What devil shall he halt?[180] Mac, lo, God makes air.

_2nd Shepherd._ Let be all that. Now God give him care! I sagh.[181]

_Wife._ A pretty child is he, As sits upon a woman's knee; A dylly-downe, perdie! To make a man laugh.

_3rd Shepherd._ I know him by the ear mark:--that is a good token.

_Mac._ I tell you, sirs, hark:--his nose was broken. Since then, told me a clerk,--that he was forespoken.[182]

_1st Shepherd._ This is a false work.--I would fain be wroken:[183] Get a weapon!

_Wife._ He was taken by an elf;[184] I saw it myself. When the clock struck twelve, Was he mis-shapen.

_2nd Shepherd._ Ye two are right deft,--same in a stead.

_3rd Shepherd._ Since they maintain their theft,--let's do them to dead.

_Mac._ If I trespass eft, gird off my head. With you will I be left.

_1st Shepherd._ Sirs, do my red For this trespass, We will neither ban nor flyte[185] Fight, nor chyte,[186] But seize him tight, And cast him in canvas.

[_They toss Mac for his sins._

* * * * *

_1st Shepherd_ (_as the three return to the fold_). Lord, how I am sore, in point for to tryst: In faith I may no more, therefore will I rest.

_2nd Shepherd._ As a sheep of seven score, he weighed in my fist. For to sleep anywhere, methink that I list.

_3rd Shepherd._ Now I pray you, Lie down on this green.

_1st Shepherd._ On these thefts yet I mean.

_3rd Shepherd._ Whereto should ye tene?[187] Do as I say you.

[_Enter an Angel above, who sings "Gloria in Excelsis," then says:_

Rise, hired-men, heynd,[188] for now is he born That shall take from the fiend, that Adam had lorn:[189] That warlock to sheynd,[190] this night is he born. God is made your friend: now at this morn, He behests; To Bedlem go see, There lies that free[191] In a crib full poorly, Betwixt two beasts.

_1st Shepherd._ This was a quaint stevyn[192] that ever yet I heard. It is a marvel to nevyn[193] thus to be scared.

_2nd Shepherd._ Of God's son of heaven, he spoke up word. All the wood like the levin,[194] methought that he gard Appear.

_3rd Shepherd._ He spoke of a bairn In Bedlem I you warn.

_1st Shepherd._ That betokens yonder starn[195] Let us seek him there.

_2nd Shepherd._ Say, what was his song? Heard ye not how he cracked it? Three breves to a long.[196]

_3rd Shepherd._ Yea, marry, he hacked[197] it. Was no crochet wrong, nor no thing that lacked it.

_1st Shepherd._ For to sing us among, right as he knacked it, I can.

_2nd Shepherd._ Let us see how ye croon Can ye bark at the moon?

_3rd Shepherd._ Hold your tongues, have done.

_1st Shepherd._ Hark after, then.

_2nd Shepherd._ To Bedlem he bade--that we should gang: I am full feared--that we tarry too lang.

_3rd Shepherd._ Be merry and not sad: of mirth is our sang, Everlasting glad, our road may we fang,[198] Without noise.

_1st Shepherd._ Hie we thither quickly; If we be wet and weary, To that child and that lady We have it not to slose.[199]

_2nd Shepherd._ We find by the prophecy--let be your din-- Of David and Esai, and more than I min;[200] They prophesied by clergy, that on a virgin Should he light and ly, to pardon our sin And slake it, Our kind from woe; For Esai said so, _Cite virgo Concipiet a child that is naked._

_3rd Shepherd._ Full glad may we be,--and abide that day That lovely to see,--that all mights may. Lord, well for me,--for once and for aye, Might I kneel on my knee--some word for to say To that child. But the angel said In a crib was he laid; He was poorly arrayed, Both meaner and mild.

_1st Shepherd._ Patriarchs that have been,--and prophets beforn, They desired to have seen--this child that is born. They are gone full clean,--that have they lorn. We shall see him, I ween,--e'er it be morn By token When I see him and feel, Then know I full weel It is true as steel That prophets have spoken. To so poor as we are, that he would appear, First find, and declare by his messenger.

_2nd Shepherd._ Go we now, let us fare: the place is us near.

_3rd Shepherd._ I am ready and yare:[201] go we in fear To that light! Lord! if thy wills be, We are lewd[202] all three, Thou grant us of thy glee,[203] To comfort thy wight.

* * * * *

[_The Shepherds arrive at Bethlehem._

_1st Shepherd._ Hail, comely and clean; hail, young child! Hail, maker, as I mean, of a maiden so mild! Thou hast wared, I ween, off the warlock[204] so wild, The false guiler of teen,[205] now goes he beguiled. Lo, he merry is! Lo, he laughs, my sweeting, A welcome meeting! I have given my greeting Have a bob of cherries?

_2nd Shepherd._ Hail, sovereign saviour, for thou hast us sought! Hail freely, leaf and flow'r, that all thing has wrought! Hail full of favour, that made all of nought! Hail! I kneel and I cower. A bird have I brought To my bairn! Hail, little tiny mop,[206] Of our creed thou are crop! I would drink in thy cup, Little day-starn.[207]

_3rd Shepherd._ Hail, darling dear, full of godheed! I pray thee be near, when that I have need. Hail! sweet is thy cheer: my heart would bleed To see thee sit here in so poor weed. With no pennies. Hail! put forth thy dall!--[208] I bring thee but a ball Have and play thee with all, And go to the tennis.

_Mary._ The Father of Heaven, God omnipotent, That set all on levin,[209] his son has he sent. My name could he neven,[210] and laught as he went.[211] I conceived him full even, through might, as God meant; And new is he born. He keep you from woe: I shall pray him so; Tell forth as ye go, And mind on this morn.

_1st Shepherd._ Farewell, lady, so fair to behold, With thy child on thy knee.

_2nd Shepherd._ But he lies full cold, Lord, well is me: now we go forth, behold!

_3rd Shepherd._ Forsooth, already it seems to be told Full oft.

_1st Shepherd._ What grace we have fun.[212]

_2nd Shepherd._ Come forth, now are we won.

_3rd Shepherd._ To sing are we bun:[213] Let take on loft.[214]

The Coventry Nativity Play Of The Company Of Shearmen And Tailors

Characters

Isaiah (_as Prologue_) Gabriel Joseph Mary The Three Kings The Three Shepherds The Two Prophets King Herod A Herald An Angel Two Soldiers Three Women

The Coventry Nativity Play

Prologue

_Isaiah._ The sovereign that seeth every secret He save you all and make you perfect and strong: And give his grace with his mercy thereto meet, For now in great misery mankind is bound. The serpent hath given us so mortal a wound That no creature is able us for to release Till the right unction of Judah doth cease. Then shall much mirth and joy increase And the right root in Israel spring, That shall bring forth the grain of holiness: And out of danger he shall us bring Into that region where he is king: Which above all other doth abound And that cruel Satan he shall confound. Wherefore I come here upon this ground, To comfort every creature of birth; For I, Isaiah, the prophet, hath found Many sweet matters, whereof we may make mirth On this same wise. For though Adam be doomed to death With all his children, as Abel and Seth: Yet, _Ecce virgo concipiet!_[215] Lo, where a remedy shall rise! Behold a maid shall conceive a child, And get us more grace than ever man had. And her maidenhood nothing defiled: She is deputed to bear the Son, Almighty God. Lo, sovereignties now may you be glad, For of this maiden all we may be fain;[216] For Adam that now lies in sorrows full sad, Her glorious birth shall redeem him again From bondage and thrall. Now be merry every man, For this deed briefly in Israel shall be done, And before the Father on his throne That shall glad us all. More of this matter fain would I move, But longer time I have not here for to dwell. That lord that is merciful, his mercy so in us may prove For to save our souls from the darkness of hell, And to his bliss--he us bring As he is--both lord and king; And shall be everlasting _In secula seculos_:[217] Amen.

[_Exit._

[_Enter Gabriel to Mary._]

_Gabriel._ Hail! Mary, full of grace, Our Lord God is with thee! Above all women that ever was; Lady, blessed may thou be.

_Mary._ Almighty Father and King of bliss From all dyskes[218] thou save me now: For inwardly my spirit troubled is, I am amazed and know not how.

_Gabriel._ Dread thee nothing, maiden, of this: From heaven above hither am I sent, Of embassage from that King of bliss, Unto the lady and virgin reverent, Saluting thee here as most excellent, Whose virtue above all other doth abound; Wherefore in thee grace shall be found: For thou shalt conceive upon this ground The Second Person of God on throne; He will be born of thee alone, Without sin tho shalt him see. Thy grace and thy goodness will never be gone But ever to live in virginity.

_Mary._ I marvel sore how that may be: Man's company knew I never yet, Nor never to do cast I me, While that our Lord sendeth me my wit.

_Gabriel._ The Holy Ghost in thee shall light, And shall endue thy soul so with virtue From the Father that is on high: These words, turtle, they be full true. This child that of thee shall be born Is the Second Person in Trinity. He shall save that was forlorn, And the fiend's power destroy shall he. These words, lady, full true they be, And further, lady, in thy own lineage, Behold Elizabeth, thy cousin clean, The which was barren and past all age. And now with child she hath been Six months and more as shall be seen; Wherefore, discomfort thee not, Mary, For to God impossible nothing may be.

_Mary._ Now and it be that Lord's will Of my body to be born and for to be His high pleasure for to fulfil, As his one handmaid I submit me.

_Gabriel._ Now blessed be the time set That thou wast born in thy degree: For now is the knot surely knit And God conceived in Trinity. Now farewell lady of might most, Unto the Godhead I thee beteyche.[219]

_Mary._ That lord thee guide in every cost And lowly he lead me and be my leech.[220]

[_Here the Angel departeth and Joseph cometh in and saith:_

_Joseph._ Mary, my wife so dear! How do ye, dame, and what cheer Is with you this tide?

_Mary._ Truly, husband, I am here Our Lord's will for to abide.

_Joseph._ What! I trow we be all shent![221] Say, woman, who hath been here since I went To rage with thee?

_Mary._ Sir, here was neither man, nor man's even,[222] But only the sond[223] of our Lord God in heaven.

_Joseph._ Say not so, woman, for shame let be: Ye be with child so wondrous great, Ye need no more thereof to treat Against all right. For sooth this child, dame, is not mine; Alas, that ever with my eyne[224] I should see this sight. Tell me, woman, whose is this child?

_Mary._ None but yours, husband, so mild And that shall be seen, I wis.

_Joseph._ But mine, alas! alas! why say ye so? Well away, woman, now may I go Beguiled as many another is.

_Mary._ Nay truly, sir, ye be not beguiled Nor yet with spot of sin I am not defiled; Trust it well, husband.

_Joseph._ Husband in faith, and that acold; Ah well away, Joseph, as thou art old! Like a fool now may I stand And truss; but in faith, Mary, thou art in sin. So much as I have cherished thee, dame, and all thy kin, Behind my back to serve me thus: All old men example take by me, How I am beguiled here may you see, To wed so young a child. Now farewell, Mary, I leave thee here alone, Woe worth thee dame, and thy works each one! For I will no more be beguiled For friend nor foe. Now of this deed I am so dull And of my life I am so full, No farther may I go.

_Angel._ Arise up, Joseph, and go home again Unto Mary thy wife that is so free; To comfort her look that thou be fain, For, Joseph, a clean maiden is she. She hath conceived without any trayne The Second Person in Trinity: Jesu shall be his name certainly, And all this world save shall he. Be not aghast.

_Joseph._ Now, Lord, I thank thee with heart full sad. For of these tidings I am so glad That all my care away is cast, Wherefore to Mary I will in haste. Ah, Mary, Mary, I kneel full low, Forgive me, sweet wife, here in this land; Mercy, Mary, for now I know Of your good governance and how it doth stand: Though that I did thee misname. Mercy, Mary, while I live Will I never, sweet wife, thee grieve, In earnest nor in game.

_Mary._ Now, that Lord in Heaven, sir,--he you forgive! And I do forgive you in his name For evermore.

_Joseph._ Now truly, sweet wife, to you I say the same; But now to Bethlehem must I wynde[225] And show myself so full of care, And I to leave you this great behind, God wot, the while, dame, how you should fare.

_Mary._ Nay hardily, husband, dread ye nothing, For I will walk with you on the way. I trust in God, Almighty King, To speed right well in our journey.

_Joseph._ Now I thank you, Mary, of your goodness That you my words will not blame; And since that to Bethlehem we shall us address Go we together in God's holy name.

[_They set out on their way._

Now to Bethlehem have we leagues three, The day is nigh spent, it draweth towards night, Fain at your ease, dame, I would that ye should be: For you grow all weary, it seemeth, in my sight.

_Mary._ God have mercy, Joseph, my spouse, so dear! All prophets hereto do bear witness The evry time now draweth near That my child will be born, which is King of bliss. Unto some place, Joseph, kindly me lead, That I might rest me with grace in this tide, The light of the Father over us both spread And the grace of my son with us here abide.

_Joseph._ Lo, blessed Mary, here shall ye lend;[226] Chief chosen of our Lord, and cleanest in degree: And I for help to town, will I wend. Is not this the best, dame, what say ye?

_Mary._ God have mercy! Joseph, my husband, so meek, And I heartily pray you go now from me.

_Joseph._ That shall be done in haste, Mary, so sweet! The comfort of the Holy Ghost leave I with thee. Now to Bethlehem strait will I go, To get some help for Mary so free, Some help of women, God may me send! That Mary, full of grace, pleased may be.

[_Enter a Shepherd._

_1st Shepherd._ Now God that art in Trinity, Thou sawest my fellows and me; For I know not where my sheep nor they be, This night it is so cold, Now is it nigh the middest of the night, These weathers are dark and dim of light, That of them can I have no sight, Standing here on this wold. But now to make their hearts light, Now will I full right Stand upon this loe.[227] And to them cry with all my might: Full well my voice they know, What ho, fellows, ho, hoo, ho!

[_Enter two other Shepherds._

_2nd Shepherd._ Hark, Sym, hark, I hear our brother on the loe,[227] This is his voice, right well I know, Therefore towards him let us go, And follow his voice aright, See, Sym, see where he doth stand; I am right glad we have him found. Brother! where hast thou been so long, And it is so cold this night?

_1st Shepherd._ Oh, friends! there came a pyrie[228] of wind With a mist suddenly, That forth off my ways went I, And great heaviness then made I, And was full sore afright; Then for to go wist I not whither, But travelled on this hill hither and thither. I was so weary of this cold weather, That near passed was my might.

_3rd Shepherd._ Brother, now we be past that fright, And it is far within the night: Full soon will spring the daylight, It draweth full near the tide. Here awhile let us rest And repast ourselves of the best. Till that the sun rise in the east, Let us all here abide.

[_There the Shepherds draw forth their meat, and do eat and drink, and as they drink they see the star and say thus:_

Brother, look up and behold, What thing is yonder that shineth so bright? As long as ever I have watched my fold, Yet saw I never such a sight In field. Aha! now is come the time that old fathers hath told, That in the winter's night so cold, A child of maiden born, be he would, In whom all prophecies shall be fulfilled.

_1st Shepherd._ Truth it is without nay, So said the prophet Isaye, That a child should be born of a maid so bright In winter nigh the shortest day, Or else in the middest of the night.

_2nd Shepherd._ Loved be God, most of might! That our grace is to see that sight; Pray we to him as it is right If that his will it be, That we may have knowledge of this signification, And why it appeareth on this fashion And ever to him let us give laudation, In earth, while that we be.

[_There the angels sing "Gloria in Excelsis Deo."_

_3rd Shepherd._ Hark, they sing above in the clouds clear! Heard I never of so merry a choir. Now gentle brother draw we near To hear their harmony?

_1st Shepherd._ Brother, mirth and solace is come us among For, by the sweetness of their song; God's Son is come, whom we have looked for long, As signifieth this star we do see.

_2nd Shepherd._ Glory, _Gloria in Excelsis_, that was their song, How say ye fellows! said they not thus?

_1st Shepherd._ That is well said, now go we hence To worship that child of high magnificence; And that we may sing in his presence, _Et in terra pax omnibus._ [_There the Shepherds sing:_]

As I out rode this enderes' night, Of three jolly shepherds I saw a sight, And all about their fold a star shone bright; They sang, Terli, terlow; So merrily the shepherds their pipes can blow.

_Joseph._ Now, Lord, this noise that I do hear With this great solemnity, Greatly amended hath my cheer, I trust high news shortly will be.

[_There the Angels sing "Gloria in Excelsis" again._

_Mary._ Ah Joseph, husband, come hither anon My child is born that is King of bliss.

_Joseph._ Now welcome to me, the maker of man, With all the homage that I can; Thy sweet mother here will I kiss.

_Mary._ Ah Joseph, husband, my child waxeth cold And we have no fire to warm him with.

_Joseph._ Now in my arms I shall him fold, King of all kings by field and by frith,[229] He might have had better, and himself would Than the breathing of these beasts to warm him with.

_Mary._ Now, Joseph, my husband, fetch hither my child, The maker of man, and high King of bliss.

_Joseph._ That shall be done, anon, Mary so mild! For the breathing of these beasts hath warmed him, I wis.

_1st Angel._ Herdmen kind, dread ye nothing, Of this star that ye do see; For this same morn God's son is born, In Bethlem of a maiden fre.[230]

_2nd Angel._ Hie you hither in haste, It is his will ye shall him see Lying in a crib of poor repast; Yet of David's line come is he.

_1st Shepherd._ Hail, maid-mother, and wife so mild! As the angel said, so have we found, I have nothing to present to thy child, But my pipe; hold, hold! take it in thy hand; Wherein much pleasure that I have found, And now to honour thy glorious birth, Thou shalt it have to make thee mirth.

_2nd Shepherd._ Now, hail be thou, child, and thy dame, For in a poor lodging here art thou laid; So the angel said, and told us thy name. Hold, take thou here my hat on thy head, And now of one thing thou art well sped; For weather thou hast no cause to complain, For wind, nor sun, hail, snow, and rain.

_3rd Shepherd._ Hail, be thou Lord over water and lands For thy coming all we may make mirth, Have here my mittens to put on thy hands Other treasure have I none to present thee with.

_Mary._ Now, herdmen kind, For your coming, To my child shall I pray, As he is heaven's king, To grant you his blessing, And to his bliss that ye may wynd[231] At your last day.

[_There the Shepherds sing again:_]

Down from heaven, from heaven so high, Of angels there came a great company, With mirth, and joy, and great solemnity They sang, Terli, terlow; So merrily the shepherds their pipes can blow.

[_The two prophets come in._

_1st Prophet._ Novellis, novellis,[232] of wonderful marvellys,[233] Were high and sweet unto the hearing, As Scripture tellis, these strange novellis To you I bring.

_2nd Prophet._ Now, heartily, sir, I desire to know, If it would please you for to show, Of what manner a thing?

_1st Prophet._ Were it mystical unto your hearing,-- Of the nativity of a king?

_2nd Prophet._ Of a king? Whence should he come?

_1st Prophet._ From that region royal and mighty mansion, The seed celestial and heavenly wisdom, The Second Person, and God's one Son, For our sake is man become. This godly sphere, descended here, Into a virgin clear, She undefiled, By whose work, obscure our frail nature Is now beguiled.

_2nd Prophet._ Why, hath she a child?

_1st Prophet._ Ah, trust it well, And never the less, Yet is she a maid even as she was, And her son the king of Israel.

_2nd Prophet._ A wonderful marvel, How that may be, And far doth excel-- All our capacity, How that the trinity, Of so high regality, Should joined be, Unto our mortality.

_1st Prophet._ Of his one great mercy As ye shall see the exposition, Through whose humanity all Adam's progeny Redeemed shall be Out of perdition; Sith man did offend, who should amend, But the said man and no other; For the which cause he, Incarnate would be, And live in misery As man's one brother.

_2nd Prophet._ Sir, upon the Deity, I believe perfectly, Impossible to be, there is nothing; Howbeit this work, unto me is dark, In the operation or working.

_1st Prophet._ What more reproof is unto belief Than to be doubting.

_2nd Prophet._ Yet doubts ofttimes hath derivation.

_1st Prophet._ That is by the means of communication, Of truths to have a due probation,-- By the same doubts, reasoning.

_2nd Prophet._ Then to you, this one thing, Of what noble and high lineage is she, That might this verible prince's mother be?

_1st Prophet._ Undoubted she is come of high parrage,[234] Of the house of David, and Solomon the sage, And one of the same line joined to her by marriage Of whose tribe, we do subscribe This child's lineage.

_2nd Prophet._ And why in that wise?

_1st Prophet._ For it was the guise To count the parent on the man's line, And not on the feminine, Amongst us here in Israel.

_2nd Prophet._ Yet can I not espy, by no wise How this child born should be without nature's prejudice.

_1st Prophet._ Nay, no prejudice unto nature I dare well say, For the king of nature may Have all his one will, Did not the power of God, make Aaron's rod Bear fruit in one day?

_2nd Prophet._ Truth it is indeed.

_1st Prophet._ Then look you and rede.[235]

_2nd Prophet._ Ah! I perceive the seed Whereupon that you spake, It was for our need That he frail nature did take, And his blood he should shed Amends for to make For our transgression, As it is said in prophecy, that of the line of Judë Should spring a right Messië, By whom all we Should have redemption.

_1st Prophet._ Sir, now is the time come, And the date thereof run Of his Nativity.

_2nd Prophet._ Yet I beseech you heartily, That ye would show me how That this strange novelty Were brought unto you?

_1st Prophet._ This other night so cold, Hereby upon a wold, Shepherds watching their fold In the night so far, To them appeared a star, And ever it drew them near, Which star they did behold, Brighter they say a thousand fold Than the sun so clear In his midday sphere; And they these tidings told.

_2nd Prophet._ What, secretly?

_1st Prophet._ Na, na, hardily,[236] They made there of no council, For they sang as loud, As ever they could, Praising the king of Israel.

_2nd Prophet._ Yet do I marvel, In what pile or castle, These herdmen did him see.

_1st Prophet._ Neither in halls, nor yet in bowers, Born would he not be, Neither in castles, nor yet in towers, That seemly were to see, But at his Father's will, The prophecy to fulfil, Betwixt an ox and an ass Jesu this king born he was; Heaven he bring us till![237]

_2nd Prophet._ Sir, ah! but when these shepherds had seen him there, To what place did they repair?

_1st Prophet._ Forth they went, and glad they were; Going they did sing, With mirth and solace, they made good cheer, For joy of that new tiding. And after as I heard them tell, He rewarded them full well He granted them heaven therein to dwell. In are they gone with joy and mirth, And their song it is Noël.

[_There the Prophets go forth, and Herod and the messenger (or herald) comes in._

_Herald._ Peace, Lord Barons of great renown! Peace, sir knights of noble presence! Peace, gentlemen companions of noble order! I command that all of you keep silence. Peace while your noble king is in presence! Let no person stint to pay him deference; Be not bold to strike, but keep your hearts in patience, And to your Lord keep heart of reverence, For he, your king, has all puissance! In the name of the law, I command you peace! And King Herod--"_la grandeaboly vos umport._"[238]

_Herod._ _Qui status in Jude et Rex Israel_,[239] And the mightiest conqueror that ever walked on ground; For I am even he that made both heaven and hell, And of my mighty power holdeth up this world round. Magog and Madroke, both them did I confound, And with