When Adam dalf, and Eve span,Who was then the gentleman?
When Adam dalf, and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?
A few weeks later he was executed by sentence of Lord Chief Justice Tressilian, who had been charged by the King to take vengeance on the rebels.
The distich E sums up briefly the history of a year which turned moderate men against Richard II. A fuller contemporary picture of the events that led to his deposition is found in the alliterative poemRichard the Redeles, attributed by Skeat to the author ofPiers Plowman.
Now for to tell ȝou will I turnOf batayl of BanocburnSkottes out of Berwik and of AbirdeneAt þe Bannokburn war ȝe to kene;Þare slogh ȝe many sakles, als it was sene,And now has King Edward wroken it, I wene.It es wrokin, I wene, wele wurth þe while!5War ȝit with þe Skottes for þai er ful of gile!Whare er ȝe Skottes of Saint Iohnes toune?Þe boste of ȝowre baner es betin all doune.When ȝe bosting will bede, Sir Edward es bouneFor to kindel ȝow care, and crak ȝowre crowne.10He has crakked ȝowre croune, wele worth þe whileSchame bityde þe Skottes, for þai er full of gile!Skottes of Striflin war steren and stout,Of God ne of gude men had þai no dout.Now haue þai, þe pelers, priked obout,15Bot at þe last Sir Edward rifild þaire rout.He has rifild þaire rout, wele wurth þe while!Bot euer er þai vnder bot gaudes and gile.Rughfute riueling, now kindels þi care;Berebag with þi boste, þi biging es bare;20Fals wretche and forsworn, whider wiltou fare?Busk þe vnto Brig, and abide þare.Þare, wretche, saltou won, and wery þe while;Þi dwelling in Dondé es done for þi gile.Þe Skottes gase in Burghes and betes þe stretes;25Al þise Inglis men harmes he hetes;Fast makes he his mone to men þat he metes,Bot fone frendes he findes þat his bale betes.Fune betes his bale, wele wurth þe while!He vses al threting with gaudes and gile.30Bot many man thretes and spekes ful illÞat sum tyme war better to be stane—still.Þe Skot in his wordes has wind for to spill,For at þe last Edward sall haue al his will.He had his will at Berwik, wele wurth þe while!35Skottes broght him þe kayes,—bot get for þaire gile.
Now for to tell ȝou will I turnOf batayl of Banocburn
Now for to tell ȝou will I turn
Of batayl of Banocburn
Skottes out of Berwik and of AbirdeneAt þe Bannokburn war ȝe to kene;Þare slogh ȝe many sakles, als it was sene,And now has King Edward wroken it, I wene.It es wrokin, I wene, wele wurth þe while!5War ȝit with þe Skottes for þai er ful of gile!
Skottes out of Berwik and of Abirdene
At þe Bannokburn war ȝe to kene;
Þare slogh ȝe many sakles, als it was sene,
And now has King Edward wroken it, I wene.
It es wrokin, I wene, wele wurth þe while!5
War ȝit with þe Skottes for þai er ful of gile!
Whare er ȝe Skottes of Saint Iohnes toune?Þe boste of ȝowre baner es betin all doune.When ȝe bosting will bede, Sir Edward es bouneFor to kindel ȝow care, and crak ȝowre crowne.10He has crakked ȝowre croune, wele worth þe whileSchame bityde þe Skottes, for þai er full of gile!
Whare er ȝe Skottes of Saint Iohnes toune?
Þe boste of ȝowre baner es betin all doune.
When ȝe bosting will bede, Sir Edward es boune
For to kindel ȝow care, and crak ȝowre crowne.10
He has crakked ȝowre croune, wele worth þe while
Schame bityde þe Skottes, for þai er full of gile!
Skottes of Striflin war steren and stout,Of God ne of gude men had þai no dout.Now haue þai, þe pelers, priked obout,15Bot at þe last Sir Edward rifild þaire rout.He has rifild þaire rout, wele wurth þe while!Bot euer er þai vnder bot gaudes and gile.
Skottes of Striflin war steren and stout,
Of God ne of gude men had þai no dout.
Now haue þai, þe pelers, priked obout,15
Bot at þe last Sir Edward rifild þaire rout.
He has rifild þaire rout, wele wurth þe while!
Bot euer er þai vnder bot gaudes and gile.
Rughfute riueling, now kindels þi care;Berebag with þi boste, þi biging es bare;20Fals wretche and forsworn, whider wiltou fare?Busk þe vnto Brig, and abide þare.Þare, wretche, saltou won, and wery þe while;Þi dwelling in Dondé es done for þi gile.
Rughfute riueling, now kindels þi care;
Berebag with þi boste, þi biging es bare;20
Fals wretche and forsworn, whider wiltou fare?
Busk þe vnto Brig, and abide þare.
Þare, wretche, saltou won, and wery þe while;
Þi dwelling in Dondé es done for þi gile.
Þe Skottes gase in Burghes and betes þe stretes;25Al þise Inglis men harmes he hetes;Fast makes he his mone to men þat he metes,Bot fone frendes he findes þat his bale betes.Fune betes his bale, wele wurth þe while!He vses al threting with gaudes and gile.30
Þe Skottes gase in Burghes and betes þe stretes;25
Al þise Inglis men harmes he hetes;
Fast makes he his mone to men þat he metes,
Bot fone frendes he findes þat his bale betes.
Fune betes his bale, wele wurth þe while!
He vses al threting with gaudes and gile.30
Bot many man thretes and spekes ful illÞat sum tyme war better to be stane—still.Þe Skot in his wordes has wind for to spill,For at þe last Edward sall haue al his will.He had his will at Berwik, wele wurth þe while!35Skottes broght him þe kayes,—bot get for þaire gile.
Bot many man thretes and spekes ful ill
Þat sum tyme war better to be stane—still.
Þe Skot in his wordes has wind for to spill,
For at þe last Edward sall haue al his will.
He had his will at Berwik, wele wurth þe while!35
Skottes broght him þe kayes,—bot get for þaire gile.
How Edward als þe romance saisHeld his sege bifor Calais.Calays men, now mai ȝe care,And murni
How Edward als þe romance saisHeld his sege bifor Calais.
How Edward als þe romance sais
Held his sege bifor Calais.
Calays men, now mai ȝe care,And murni
Calays men, now mai ȝe care,
And murni
Mirth on mold get ȝe no mare,
Sir Edward sall ken ȝow ȝowre crede.
Whilum war ȝe wight in wede5
To robbing rathly for to ren;
Mend ȝow sone of ȝowre misdede:
Ȝowre care es cumen, will ȝe it ken.
Kend it es how ȝe war keneAl Inglis men with dole to dere.10Þaire gudes toke ȝe al bidene,No man born wald ȝe forbere.Ȝe spared noght with swerd ne spereTo stik þam, and þaire gudes to stele.With wapin and with ded of were15Þus haue ȝe wonnen werldes wele.
Kend it es how ȝe war kene
Al Inglis men with dole to dere.10
Þaire gudes toke ȝe al bidene,
No man born wald ȝe forbere.
Ȝe spared noght with swerd ne spere
To stik þam, and þaire gudes to stele.
With wapin and with ded of were15
Þus haue ȝe wonnen werldes wele.
Weleful men war ȝe iwis,Bot fer on fold sall ȝe noght fare:A bare sal now abate ȝowre blisAnd wirk ȝow bale on bankes bare.20He sall ȝow hunt, als hund dose hare,Þat in no hole sall ȝe ȝow hide;For all ȝowre speche will he noght spare,Bot bigges him right by ȝowre side.
Weleful men war ȝe iwis,
Bot fer on fold sall ȝe noght fare:
A bare sal now abate ȝowre blis
And wirk ȝow bale on bankes bare.20
He sall ȝow hunt, als hund dose hare,
Þat in no hole sall ȝe ȝow hide;
For all ȝowre speche will he noght spare,
Bot bigges him right by ȝowre side.
Biside ȝow here þe bare bigins25To big his boure in winter tyde,And all bityme takes he his inesWith semly se
Biside ȝow here þe bare bigins25
To big his boure in winter tyde,
And all bityme takes he his ines
With semly se
Þe word of him walkes ful wide—
Iesu saue him fro mischance!30
In bataill dar he wele habide
Sir Philip and Sir Iohn of France.
Þe Franche men er fers and fell,And mase grete dray when þai er dight;Of þam men herd slike tales tell,35With Edward think þai for to fight,Him for to hald out of his right,And do him treson with þaire tales:Þat was þaire purpos, day and night,Bi counsail of þe Cardinales.40
Þe Franche men er fers and fell,
And mase grete dray when þai er dight;
Of þam men herd slike tales tell,35
With Edward think þai for to fight,
Him for to hald out of his right,
And do him treson with þaire tales:
Þat was þaire purpos, day and night,
Bi counsail of þe Cardinales.40
Cardinales with hattes redeWar fro Calays wele thre myle;Þai toke þaire counsail in þat stedeHow þai might Sir Edward bigile.Þai lended þare bot litill while45Till Franche men to grante þaire grace:Sir Philip was funden a file,He fled and faght noght in þat place.
Cardinales with hattes rede
War fro Calays wele thre myle;
Þai toke þaire counsail in þat stede
How þai might Sir Edward bigile.
Þai lended þare bot litill while45
Till Franche men to grante þaire grace:
Sir Philip was funden a file,
He fled and faght noght in þat place.
In þat place þe bare was blith,For all was funden þat he had soght.50Philip þe Valas fled ful swithWith þe batail þat he had broght.For to haue Calays had he thoghtAll at his ledeing, loud or still;Bot all þaire wiles war for noght:55Edward wan it at his will.
In þat place þe bare was blith,
For all was funden þat he had soght.50
Philip þe Valas fled ful swith
With þe batail þat he had broght.
For to haue Calays had he thoght
All at his ledeing, loud or still;
Bot all þaire wiles war for noght:55
Edward wan it at his will.
Lystens now, and ȝe may lere,Als men þe suth may vnderstand,Þe knightes þat in Calais wereCome to Sir Edward sare wepeand.60In kirtell one, and swerd in hand,And cried, 'Sir Edward, þine
Lystens now, and ȝe may lere,
Als men þe suth may vnderstand,
Þe knightes þat in Calais were
Come to Sir Edward sare wepeand.60
In kirtell one, and swerd in hand,
And cried, 'Sir Edward, þine
Do now, lord, bi law of land
Þi will with vs for euermare'.
Þe nobill burgase and þe best65Come vnto him to haue þaire hire.Þe comun puple war ful prestRapes to bring obout þaire swire.Þai said all: 'Sir Philip, oure syre,And his sun, Sir Iohn of France,70Has left vs ligand in þe mire,And broght vs till þis doleful dance.
Þe nobill burgase and þe best65
Come vnto him to haue þaire hire.
Þe comun puple war ful prest
Rapes to bring obout þaire swire.
Þai said all: 'Sir Philip, oure syre,
And his sun, Sir Iohn of France,70
Has left vs ligand in þe mire,
And broght vs till þis doleful dance.
Our horses þat war faire and fatEr etin vp ilkone bidene;Haue we nowþer conig ne cat75Þat þai ne er etin, and hundes keneAl er etin vp ful clene—Es nowther leuid biche ne whelp—Þat es wele on oure sembland sene,And þai er fled þat suld vs help.'80
Our horses þat war faire and fat
Er etin vp ilkone bidene;
Haue we nowþer conig ne cat75
Þat þai ne er etin, and hundes kene
Al er etin vp ful clene—
Es nowther leuid biche ne whelp—
Þat es wele on oure sembland sene,
And þai er fled þat suld vs help.'80
A knight þat was of grete renowne—Sir Iohn de Viene was his name—He was wardaine of þe touneAnd had done Ingland mekill schame.For all þaire boste þai er to blame,85Ful stalworthly þare haue þai streuyn.A bare es cumen to mak þam tame,Kayes of þe toun to him er gifen.
A knight þat was of grete renowne—
Sir Iohn de Viene was his name—
He was wardaine of þe toune
And had done Ingland mekill schame.
For all þaire boste þai er to blame,85
Ful stalworthly þare haue þai streuyn.
A bare es cumen to mak þam tame,
Kayes of þe toun to him er gifen.
Þe kaies er ȝolden him of þe ȝate,—Lat him now kepe þam if he kun.90To Calais cum þai all to late,Sir Philip, and Sir Iohn his sun.Al war ful ferd þat þare ware fun,Þaire leders may þai barely ban.All on þis wise was Calais won:95God saue þam þat it sogat wan!
Þe kaies er ȝolden him of þe ȝate,—
Lat him now kepe þam if he kun.90
To Calais cum þai all to late,
Sir Philip, and Sir Iohn his sun.
Al war ful ferd þat þare ware fun,
Þaire leders may þai barely ban.
All on þis wise was Calais won:95
God saue þam þat it sogat wan!
A! dere God, what mai þis be,Þat alle þing weres and wasteþ awai?Frendschip is but a vanyté,Vnneþe hit dures al a day.Þei beo so sliper at assai,5So leof to han, and loþ to lete,And so fikel in heore fai,Þat selden iseiȝe is sone forȝete.I sei hit not wiþouten a cause,And þerfore takes riht good hede,10For ȝif ȝe construwe wel þis clause,I puit ȝou holly out of dredeÞat for puire schame ȝor hertes wol bledeAnd ȝe þis matere wysli trete:He þat was vr moste spede15Is selden iseye and sone forȝete.Sum tyme an Englisch schip we had,Nobel hit was and heih of tour,Þorw al Cristendam hit was drad,And stif wolde stande in vch a stour,20And best dorst byde a scharp schour,And oþer stormes, smale and grete.Now is þat schip, þat bar þe flour,Selden seȝe and sone forȝete.Into þat schip þer longed a rooþur25Þat steered þe schip and gouerned hit;In al þis world nis such anoþur,As me þinkeþ in my wit.Whyl schip and roþur togeder was knit,Þei dredde nouþer tempest, druyȝe nor wete;30Nou be þei boþe in synder flit,Þat selden seyȝe is sone forȝete.Scharpe wawes þat schip has sayled,And sayed alle sees at auentur.For wynt ne wederes neuer hit fayled35Whil þe roþur mihte enduir.Þouȝ þe see were rouh or elles dimuir,Gode hauenes þat schip wolde gete.Nou is þat schip, I am wel suir,Selde iseye and sone forȝete.40Þis goode schip I may remeneTo þechiualryeof þis londe;Sum tyme þei counted nouȝt a beneBeo al Fraunce, ich vnderstonde.Þei tok and slouȝ hem with heore honde,45Þe power of Fraunce, boþ smal and grete,And brouȝt þe king hider to byde her bonde:And nou riht sone hit is forȝete.Þat schip hadde a ful siker mast,And a sayl strong and large,50Þat made þe gode schip neuer agastTo vndertake a þing of charge;And to þat schip þer longed a bargeOf al Fraunce ȝaf nouȝt a clete;To vs hit was a siker targe,55And now riht clene hit is forȝete.Þe roþur was nouþer ok ne elm,—Hit was Edward þe Þridde, þe noble kniht.Þe Prince his sone bar vp his helm,Þat neuer scoumfited was in fiht.60The Kyng him rod and rouwed ariht;Þe Prince dredde nouþur stok nor strete.Nou of hem we lete ful liht:Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.Þe swifte barge was Duk Henri,65Þat noble kniht and wel assayed,And in his leggaunce worþiliHe abod mony a bitter brayd.Ȝif þat his enemys ouȝt outrayed,To chastis hem wolde he not lete.70Nou is þat lord ful lowe ileyd:Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.Þis gode Comunes, bi þe rode!I likne hem to the schipes mast,Þat with heore catel and heore goode75Mayntened þe werre boþ furst and last,Þe wynd þat bleuȝ þe schip wiþ blastHit was gode preȝers, I sei hit atrete.Nou is deuoutnes out icast,And mony gode dedes ben clen forȝete.80Þus ben þis lordes ileid ful lowe:Þe stok is of þe same rote;An ympe biginnes for to groweAnd ȝit I hope schal ben vr bote,To holde his fomen vnder fote,85And as a lord be set in sete.Crist leue þat he so mote,Þat selden iseȝe be not forȝete!Weor þat impe fully growe,Þat he had sarri sap and piþ,90I hope he schulde be kud and knoweFor conquerour of moni a kiþ.He is ful lyflich in lyme and liþIn armes to trauayle and to swete.Crist leeue we so fare him wiþ95Þat selden seȝe be neuer forȝete!And þerfore holliche I ou rede,Til þat þis ympe beo fully growe,Þat vch a mon vp wiþ þe hedeAnd mayntene him, boþe heiȝe and lowe.100Þe Frensche men cunne boþe boste and blowe,And wiþ heore scornes vs toþrete,And we beoþ boþe vnkuynde and slowe,Þat selden seȝe is sone forȝete.And þerfore, gode sires, takeþ reward105Of ȝor douhti kyng þat dyȝede in age,And to his sone, Prince Edward,Þat welle was of alle corage.Suche two lordes of heiȝ parageInot in eorþe whon we schal gete;110And nou heore los biginneþ to swage,Þat selde iseȝe is sone forȝete.
A! dere God, what mai þis be,Þat alle þing weres and wasteþ awai?Frendschip is but a vanyté,Vnneþe hit dures al a day.Þei beo so sliper at assai,5So leof to han, and loþ to lete,And so fikel in heore fai,Þat selden iseiȝe is sone forȝete.
A! dere God, what mai þis be,
Þat alle þing weres and wasteþ awai?
Frendschip is but a vanyté,
Vnneþe hit dures al a day.
Þei beo so sliper at assai,5
So leof to han, and loþ to lete,
And so fikel in heore fai,
Þat selden iseiȝe is sone forȝete.
I sei hit not wiþouten a cause,And þerfore takes riht good hede,10For ȝif ȝe construwe wel þis clause,I puit ȝou holly out of dredeÞat for puire schame ȝor hertes wol bledeAnd ȝe þis matere wysli trete:He þat was vr moste spede15Is selden iseye and sone forȝete.
I sei hit not wiþouten a cause,
And þerfore takes riht good hede,10
For ȝif ȝe construwe wel þis clause,
I puit ȝou holly out of drede
Þat for puire schame ȝor hertes wol blede
And ȝe þis matere wysli trete:
He þat was vr moste spede15
Is selden iseye and sone forȝete.
Sum tyme an Englisch schip we had,Nobel hit was and heih of tour,Þorw al Cristendam hit was drad,And stif wolde stande in vch a stour,20And best dorst byde a scharp schour,And oþer stormes, smale and grete.Now is þat schip, þat bar þe flour,Selden seȝe and sone forȝete.
Sum tyme an Englisch schip we had,
Nobel hit was and heih of tour,
Þorw al Cristendam hit was drad,
And stif wolde stande in vch a stour,20
And best dorst byde a scharp schour,
And oþer stormes, smale and grete.
Now is þat schip, þat bar þe flour,
Selden seȝe and sone forȝete.
Into þat schip þer longed a rooþur25Þat steered þe schip and gouerned hit;In al þis world nis such anoþur,As me þinkeþ in my wit.Whyl schip and roþur togeder was knit,Þei dredde nouþer tempest, druyȝe nor wete;30Nou be þei boþe in synder flit,Þat selden seyȝe is sone forȝete.
Into þat schip þer longed a rooþur25
Þat steered þe schip and gouerned hit;
In al þis world nis such anoþur,
As me þinkeþ in my wit.
Whyl schip and roþur togeder was knit,
Þei dredde nouþer tempest, druyȝe nor wete;30
Nou be þei boþe in synder flit,
Þat selden seyȝe is sone forȝete.
Scharpe wawes þat schip has sayled,And sayed alle sees at auentur.For wynt ne wederes neuer hit fayled35Whil þe roþur mihte enduir.Þouȝ þe see were rouh or elles dimuir,Gode hauenes þat schip wolde gete.Nou is þat schip, I am wel suir,Selde iseye and sone forȝete.40
Scharpe wawes þat schip has sayled,
And sayed alle sees at auentur.
For wynt ne wederes neuer hit fayled35
Whil þe roþur mihte enduir.
Þouȝ þe see were rouh or elles dimuir,
Gode hauenes þat schip wolde gete.
Nou is þat schip, I am wel suir,
Selde iseye and sone forȝete.40
Þis goode schip I may remeneTo þechiualryeof þis londe;Sum tyme þei counted nouȝt a beneBeo al Fraunce, ich vnderstonde.Þei tok and slouȝ hem with heore honde,45Þe power of Fraunce, boþ smal and grete,And brouȝt þe king hider to byde her bonde:And nou riht sone hit is forȝete.
Þis goode schip I may remene
To þechiualryeof þis londe;
Sum tyme þei counted nouȝt a bene
Beo al Fraunce, ich vnderstonde.
Þei tok and slouȝ hem with heore honde,45
Þe power of Fraunce, boþ smal and grete,
And brouȝt þe king hider to byde her bonde:
And nou riht sone hit is forȝete.
Þat schip hadde a ful siker mast,And a sayl strong and large,50Þat made þe gode schip neuer agastTo vndertake a þing of charge;And to þat schip þer longed a bargeOf al Fraunce ȝaf nouȝt a clete;To vs hit was a siker targe,55And now riht clene hit is forȝete.
Þat schip hadde a ful siker mast,
And a sayl strong and large,50
Þat made þe gode schip neuer agast
To vndertake a þing of charge;
And to þat schip þer longed a barge
Of al Fraunce ȝaf nouȝt a clete;
To vs hit was a siker targe,55
And now riht clene hit is forȝete.
Þe roþur was nouþer ok ne elm,—Hit was Edward þe Þridde, þe noble kniht.Þe Prince his sone bar vp his helm,Þat neuer scoumfited was in fiht.60The Kyng him rod and rouwed ariht;Þe Prince dredde nouþur stok nor strete.Nou of hem we lete ful liht:Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.
Þe roþur was nouþer ok ne elm,—
Hit was Edward þe Þridde, þe noble kniht.
Þe Prince his sone bar vp his helm,
Þat neuer scoumfited was in fiht.60
The Kyng him rod and rouwed ariht;
Þe Prince dredde nouþur stok nor strete.
Nou of hem we lete ful liht:
Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.
Þe swifte barge was Duk Henri,65Þat noble kniht and wel assayed,And in his leggaunce worþiliHe abod mony a bitter brayd.Ȝif þat his enemys ouȝt outrayed,To chastis hem wolde he not lete.70Nou is þat lord ful lowe ileyd:Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.
Þe swifte barge was Duk Henri,65
Þat noble kniht and wel assayed,
And in his leggaunce worþili
He abod mony a bitter brayd.
Ȝif þat his enemys ouȝt outrayed,
To chastis hem wolde he not lete.70
Nou is þat lord ful lowe ileyd:
Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.
Þis gode Comunes, bi þe rode!I likne hem to the schipes mast,Þat with heore catel and heore goode75Mayntened þe werre boþ furst and last,Þe wynd þat bleuȝ þe schip wiþ blastHit was gode preȝers, I sei hit atrete.Nou is deuoutnes out icast,And mony gode dedes ben clen forȝete.80
Þis gode Comunes, bi þe rode!
I likne hem to the schipes mast,
Þat with heore catel and heore goode75
Mayntened þe werre boþ furst and last,
Þe wynd þat bleuȝ þe schip wiþ blast
Hit was gode preȝers, I sei hit atrete.
Nou is deuoutnes out icast,
And mony gode dedes ben clen forȝete.80
Þus ben þis lordes ileid ful lowe:Þe stok is of þe same rote;An ympe biginnes for to groweAnd ȝit I hope schal ben vr bote,To holde his fomen vnder fote,85And as a lord be set in sete.Crist leue þat he so mote,Þat selden iseȝe be not forȝete!
Þus ben þis lordes ileid ful lowe:
Þe stok is of þe same rote;
An ympe biginnes for to growe
And ȝit I hope schal ben vr bote,
To holde his fomen vnder fote,85
And as a lord be set in sete.
Crist leue þat he so mote,
Þat selden iseȝe be not forȝete!
Weor þat impe fully growe,Þat he had sarri sap and piþ,90I hope he schulde be kud and knoweFor conquerour of moni a kiþ.He is ful lyflich in lyme and liþIn armes to trauayle and to swete.Crist leeue we so fare him wiþ95Þat selden seȝe be neuer forȝete!
Weor þat impe fully growe,
Þat he had sarri sap and piþ,90
I hope he schulde be kud and knowe
For conquerour of moni a kiþ.
He is ful lyflich in lyme and liþ
In armes to trauayle and to swete.
Crist leeue we so fare him wiþ95
Þat selden seȝe be neuer forȝete!
And þerfore holliche I ou rede,Til þat þis ympe beo fully growe,Þat vch a mon vp wiþ þe hedeAnd mayntene him, boþe heiȝe and lowe.100Þe Frensche men cunne boþe boste and blowe,And wiþ heore scornes vs toþrete,And we beoþ boþe vnkuynde and slowe,Þat selden seȝe is sone forȝete.
And þerfore holliche I ou rede,
Til þat þis ympe beo fully growe,
Þat vch a mon vp wiþ þe hede
And mayntene him, boþe heiȝe and lowe.100
Þe Frensche men cunne boþe boste and blowe,
And wiþ heore scornes vs toþrete,
And we beoþ boþe vnkuynde and slowe,
Þat selden seȝe is sone forȝete.
And þerfore, gode sires, takeþ reward105Of ȝor douhti kyng þat dyȝede in age,And to his sone, Prince Edward,Þat welle was of alle corage.Suche two lordes of heiȝ parageInot in eorþe whon we schal gete;110And nou heore los biginneþ to swage,Þat selde iseȝe is sone forȝete.
And þerfore, gode sires, takeþ reward105
Of ȝor douhti kyng þat dyȝede in age,
And to his sone, Prince Edward,
Þat welle was of alle corage.
Suche two lordes of heiȝ parage
Inot in eorþe whon we schal gete;110
And nou heore los biginneþ to swage,
Þat selde iseȝe is sone forȝete.
42chilualryeMS.110I] InMS.
42chilualryeMS.
110I] InMS.
Iohon Schep, som tyme Seynte Marie prest of Ȝork, and now of Colchestre, greteth wel Iohan Nameles, and Iohan þe Mullere, and Iohon Cartere, and biddeþ hem þat þei bee war of gyle in borugh, andstondethtogidrein Godes name, and biddeþ Peres Plouȝman go to his werk, and chastise{05}wel Hobbe þe Robbere, and takeþ wiþ ȝow Iohan Trewman, and alle hiis felawes, and no mo, and loke schappe ȝou to on heued, and no mo.
Iohan þe Mullere haþ ygrounde smal, smal, smal;Þe Kynges sone of heuene schal paye for al.10Be war oryebe wo;Knoweþ ȝour freend fro ȝour foo;Haueth ynow, and seith 'Hoo';And do wel and bettre, and fleth synne,And sekeþ pees, and hold ȝou þerinne;15
Iohan þe Mullere haþ ygrounde smal, smal, smal;
Þe Kynges sone of heuene schal paye for al.10
Be war oryebe wo;
Knoweþ ȝour freend fro ȝour foo;
Haueth ynow, and seith 'Hoo';
And do wel and bettre, and fleth synne,
And sekeþ pees, and hold ȝou þerinne;15
and so biddeþ Iohan Trewman and alle his felawes.
4togidre] togidedreMS.]11ye] þeMS.]
4togidre] togidedreMS.]
11ye] þeMS.]
The ax was sharpe, the stokke was harde,In the xiiii yere of Kyng Richarde.
The ax was sharpe, the stokke was harde,
In the xiiii yere of Kyng Richarde.
Under this head are grouped a number of short poems, representing forms of composition that survive only by fortunate chance.
A is a curious little song, which has been printed from Hale MS. 135 by G. E. Woodbine inModern Language Review, vol. iv, p. 236, and reconstructed by Skeat at vol. v, p. 105, of the same periodical.
B and C are the best-known lyrics of the important collection edited by Böddeker,Altenglische Dichtungen des MS. Harley 2253, Berlin 1878. They are literary and rather artificial in form.
D and E are minstrels' songs found, among other popular snatches, on a fly-leaf of Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913, and edited by Heuser inAnglia, vol. xxx, p. 173. In E lines 14-16 and ll. 17-19 are to be expanded on the model of ll. 7-13.
All these songs are early, and have a lightness and gaiety that become rare as the fourteenth century advances.
F is one of several English scraps (ed. Furnivall inPolitical, Religious, and Love Poems, E.E.T.S., pp. 249 ff.) that are found scattered through the Latin text of MS. Harley 7322. Most of the English pieces are without poetical merit, but in this one poem the writer has attained a perfect simplicity.
G, printed in Wright and Halliwell'sReliquiae Antiquae, 1845, vol. i, p. 144, has been recognized as the first of the English ballads. It is the only example before 1400 of the swift and dramatic movement, the sudden transitions, and the restrained expression, characteristic of the ballad style.
H, first printed inReliquiae Antiquae, vol. i, p. 240, is the latest of the short pieces. With onomatopoeic effects it gives a vivid if unfriendly picture of a blacksmith's forge on a busy night.
I is a charm edited by Furnivall at p. 43 of the E.E.T.S. volume in which F appears.
Nou sprinkes þe sprai,Al for loue icche am so seekÞat slepen I ne mai.Als I me rodeþis endredaiO miplayinge,5Seih I hwar a litel maiBigan to singge:'Þe clot himclingge!Wai es him i louue-longingeSal libben ai!'10Nou sprinkes, &c.Son icche herde þat mirie note,Þider I drogh;I fonde hire in an herber swotVnder a bogh,With ioie inogh.15Son I asked: 'Þou mirie mai,Hwi sinkestou ai?'Nou sprinkes, &c.Þan answerde þat maiden swoteMidde wordes fewe:'Mi lemman me haues bihot20Of louue trewe:He chaunges anewe.Yiif I mai, it shal him reweBi þis dai.'Nou sprinkes, &c.
Nou sprinkes þe sprai,Al for loue icche am so seekÞat slepen I ne mai.
Nou sprinkes þe sprai,
Al for loue icche am so seek
Þat slepen I ne mai.
Als I me rodeþis endredaiO miplayinge,5Seih I hwar a litel maiBigan to singge:'Þe clot himclingge!Wai es him i louue-longingeSal libben ai!'10Nou sprinkes, &c.
Als I me rodeþis endredai
O miplayinge,5
Seih I hwar a litel mai
Bigan to singge:
'Þe clot himclingge!
Wai es him i louue-longinge
Sal libben ai!'10
Nou sprinkes, &c.
Son icche herde þat mirie note,Þider I drogh;I fonde hire in an herber swotVnder a bogh,With ioie inogh.15Son I asked: 'Þou mirie mai,Hwi sinkestou ai?'Nou sprinkes, &c.
Son icche herde þat mirie note,
Þider I drogh;
I fonde hire in an herber swot
Vnder a bogh,
With ioie inogh.15
Son I asked: 'Þou mirie mai,
Hwi sinkestou ai?'
Nou sprinkes, &c.
Þan answerde þat maiden swoteMidde wordes fewe:'Mi lemman me haues bihot20Of louue trewe:He chaunges anewe.Yiif I mai, it shal him reweBi þis dai.'Nou sprinkes, &c.
Þan answerde þat maiden swote
Midde wordes fewe:
'Mi lemman me haues bihot20
Of louue trewe:
He chaunges anewe.
Yiif I mai, it shal him rewe
Bi þis dai.'
Nou sprinkes, &c.
4Þis endredai als I me rodeMS.; corr. Skeat.5playinge]indistinct.8clingge] clinggesMS.
4Þis endredai als I me rodeMS.; corr. Skeat.
5playinge]indistinct.
8clingge] clinggesMS.
Lenten ys come wiþ loue to toune,Wiþ blosmen and wiþ briddes roune,Þat al þis blisse bryngeþ.Dayeseȝes in þis dales,Notes suete of nyhtegales,5Vch foul song singeþ.Þe þrestelcoc him þreteþ oo,Away is huere wynter wo,When woderoue springeþ.Þis foules singeþ ferly fele,10Ant wlyteþ on huere †wynter† wele,Þat al þe wode ryngeþ.Þe rose rayleþ hire rode,Þe leues on þe lyhte wodeWaxen al wiþ wille.15Þe mone mandeþ hire bleo,Þe lilie is lossom to seo,Þe fenyl and þe fille.Wowes þis wilde drakes;†Miles† murgeþ huere makes,20Ase strem þat strikeþ stille.Mody meneþ, sodoþmo—Ichot ycham on of þo,For loue þat likes ille.Þe mone mandeþ hire lyht;25So doþ þe semly sonne bryht,When briddes singeþ breme.Deawes donkeþ þe dounes;Deores wiþ huere derne rounes,Domes for te deme;30Wormes woweþ vnder cloude;Wymmen waxeþ wounder proude,So wel hit wol hem seme.Ȝef me shal wonte wille of on,Þis wunne weole y wole forgon,35Ant wyht in wode be fleme.
Lenten ys come wiþ loue to toune,Wiþ blosmen and wiþ briddes roune,Þat al þis blisse bryngeþ.Dayeseȝes in þis dales,Notes suete of nyhtegales,5Vch foul song singeþ.Þe þrestelcoc him þreteþ oo,Away is huere wynter wo,When woderoue springeþ.Þis foules singeþ ferly fele,10Ant wlyteþ on huere †wynter† wele,Þat al þe wode ryngeþ.
Lenten ys come wiþ loue to toune,
Wiþ blosmen and wiþ briddes roune,
Þat al þis blisse bryngeþ.
Dayeseȝes in þis dales,
Notes suete of nyhtegales,5
Vch foul song singeþ.
Þe þrestelcoc him þreteþ oo,
Away is huere wynter wo,
When woderoue springeþ.
Þis foules singeþ ferly fele,10
Ant wlyteþ on huere †wynter† wele,
Þat al þe wode ryngeþ.
Þe rose rayleþ hire rode,Þe leues on þe lyhte wodeWaxen al wiþ wille.15Þe mone mandeþ hire bleo,Þe lilie is lossom to seo,Þe fenyl and þe fille.Wowes þis wilde drakes;†Miles† murgeþ huere makes,20Ase strem þat strikeþ stille.Mody meneþ, sodoþmo—Ichot ycham on of þo,For loue þat likes ille.
Þe rose rayleþ hire rode,
Þe leues on þe lyhte wode
Waxen al wiþ wille.15
Þe mone mandeþ hire bleo,
Þe lilie is lossom to seo,
Þe fenyl and þe fille.
Wowes þis wilde drakes;
†Miles† murgeþ huere makes,20
Ase strem þat strikeþ stille.
Mody meneþ, sodoþmo—
Ichot ycham on of þo,
For loue þat likes ille.
Þe mone mandeþ hire lyht;25So doþ þe semly sonne bryht,When briddes singeþ breme.Deawes donkeþ þe dounes;Deores wiþ huere derne rounes,Domes for te deme;30Wormes woweþ vnder cloude;Wymmen waxeþ wounder proude,So wel hit wol hem seme.Ȝef me shal wonte wille of on,Þis wunne weole y wole forgon,35Ant wyht in wode be fleme.
Þe mone mandeþ hire lyht;25
So doþ þe semly sonne bryht,
When briddes singeþ breme.
Deawes donkeþ þe dounes;
Deores wiþ huere derne rounes,
Domes for te deme;30
Wormes woweþ vnder cloude;
Wymmen waxeþ wounder proude,
So wel hit wol hem seme.
Ȝef me shal wonte wille of on,
Þis wunne weole y wole forgon,35
Ant wyht in wode be fleme.
22doþ] dohMS.
22doþ] dohMS.
Bytuene Mersh and Aueril,When spray biginneþ to springe,Þe lutel foul haþ hire wylOn hyre lud to synge.Ich libbe in loue-longinge5For semlokest of alle þynge;He may me blisse bringe—Icham in hire baundoun.An hendy hap ichabbe yhent;Ichot from heuene it is me sent;10From alle wymmen mi loue is lent,And lyht on Alysoun.On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,Hire browe broune, hire eȝe blake;Wiþ lossum chere he on me loh,15Wiþ middel smal and wel ymake.Bote he me wolle to hire take,For te buen hire owen make,Longe to lyuen ichulle forsake,And feye fallen adoun.20An hendy hap, &c.Nihtes when y wende and wake,Forþi myn wonges waxeþ won,Leuedi, al for þine sakeLonginge is ylent me on.In world nis non so wyter mon25Þat al hire bounté telle con;Hire swyre is whittore þen þe swon,And feyrest may in toune.An hend
Bytuene Mersh and Aueril,When spray biginneþ to springe,Þe lutel foul haþ hire wylOn hyre lud to synge.Ich libbe in loue-longinge5For semlokest of alle þynge;He may me blisse bringe—Icham in hire baundoun.An hendy hap ichabbe yhent;Ichot from heuene it is me sent;10From alle wymmen mi loue is lent,And lyht on Alysoun.
Bytuene Mersh and Aueril,
When spray biginneþ to springe,
Þe lutel foul haþ hire wyl
On hyre lud to synge.
Ich libbe in loue-longinge5
For semlokest of alle þynge;
He may me blisse bringe—
Icham in hire baundoun.
An hendy hap ichabbe yhent;
Ichot from heuene it is me sent;10
From alle wymmen mi loue is lent,
And lyht on Alysoun.
On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,Hire browe broune, hire eȝe blake;Wiþ lossum chere he on me loh,15Wiþ middel smal and wel ymake.Bote he me wolle to hire take,For te buen hire owen make,Longe to lyuen ichulle forsake,And feye fallen adoun.20An hendy hap, &c.
On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,
Hire browe broune, hire eȝe blake;
Wiþ lossum chere he on me loh,15
Wiþ middel smal and wel ymake.
Bote he me wolle to hire take,
For te buen hire owen make,
Longe to lyuen ichulle forsake,
And feye fallen adoun.20
An hendy hap, &c.
Nihtes when y wende and wake,Forþi myn wonges waxeþ won,Leuedi, al for þine sakeLonginge is ylent me on.In world nis non so wyter mon25Þat al hire bounté telle con;Hire swyre is whittore þen þe swon,And feyrest may in toune.An hend
Nihtes when y wende and wake,
Forþi myn wonges waxeþ won,
Leuedi, al for þine sake
Longinge is ylent me on.
In world nis non so wyter mon25
Þat al hire bounté telle con;
Hire swyre is whittore þen þe swon,
And feyrest may in toune.
An hend
Icham for wowyng al forwake,Wery so water in wore,30Lest eny reue me my make,Ychabbe yȝyrned ȝore.Betere is þolien whyle soreÞen mournen euermore.Geynest vnder gore,35Herkne to my roun.An hendi
Icham for wowyng al forwake,
Wery so water in wore,30
Lest eny reue me my make,
Ychabbe yȝyrned ȝore.
Betere is þolien whyle sore
Þen mournen euermore.
Geynest vnder gore,35
Herkne to my roun.
An hendi Ichot from heuene it is me sent; From alle wymmen mi loue is lent, And lyht on Alysoun>.40 Icham of Irlaunde,Ant of the holy londeOf Irlande.Gode sire, pray ichþe,For of saynte charité,5Come ant daunce wyt meIn Irlaunde. Icham of Irlaunde, Ant of the holy londe Of Irlande. Gode sire, pray ichþe, For of saynte charité,5 Come ant daunce wyt me In Irlaunde. 4þe] ȝeMS. 4þe] ȝeMS. Maiden in the mor lay,In the mor lay,Seuenyst fulle, seuenist fulle,Maiden in the mor lay,In the mor lay,5Seuenistes fulle ant a day.Wellewashire mete;Wat was hire mete?Þe primerole ant the,—Þe primerole ant the,—10Welle was hire mete;Wat was hire mete?—The primerole ant the violet.Welle Maiden in the mor lay,In the mor lay,Seuenyst fulle, seuenist fulle,Maiden in the mor lay,In the mor lay,5Seuenistes fulle ant a day. Maiden in the mor lay, In the mor lay, Seuenyst fulle, seuenist fulle, Maiden in the mor lay, In the mor lay,5 Seuenistes fulle ant a day. Wellewashire mete;Wat was hire mete?Þe primerole ant the,—Þe primerole ant the,—10Welle was hire mete;Wat was hire mete?—The primerole ant the violet. Wellewashire mete; Wat was hire mete? Þe primerole ant the,— Þe primerole ant the,—10 Welle was hire mete; Wat was hire mete?— The primerole ant the violet. Welle Welle Wat was hire dryng?15 Þe chelde water of <þe> welle-spring. Welle was hire bour;Wat was hire bour?Þe rede rose an te lilie flour. Welle was hire bour; Wat was hire bour? Þe rede rose an te lilie flour. 7was] watMS.] 7was] watMS.] Iesu, swete sone dere!On porful bed list þou here,And þat me greueþ sore;For þi cradel is ase a bere,Oxe and asse beþ þi fere:Weepe ich mai þarfore.Iesu, swete, beo noth wroþ,Þou ich nabbe clout ne cloþÞe on for to folde,Þe on to folde ne to wrappe,10For ich nabbe clout ne lappe;Bote ley þou þi fet to my pappe,And wite þe from þe colde. Iesu, swete sone dere! On porful bed list þou here, And þat me greueþ sore; For þi cradel is ase a bere, Oxe and asse beþ þi fere: Weepe ich mai þarfore. Iesu, swete, beo noth wroþ, Þou ich nabbe clout ne cloþ Þe on for to folde, Þe on to folde ne to wrappe,10 For ich nabbe clout ne lappe; Bote ley þou þi fet to my pappe, And wite þe from þe colde. Hit wes upon a Scere Þorsday þat vre Louerd aros;Ful milde were þe wordes He spec to Iudas:Iudas, þou most to Iurselem, oure mete for to bugge;Þritti platen of seluer þou bere upo þi rugge.Þou comest fer i þe brode stret, fer i þe brode strete;5Summe of þine cunesmen þer þou meist imete.Imette wid is soster, þe swikele wimon:'Iudas, þou were wrþe me stende þe wid ston, (bis)For þe false prophete þat tou bileuest upon.''Be stille, leue soster, þin herte þe tobreke!10Wiste min Louerd Crist, ful wel He wolde be wreke.''Iudas, go þou on þe roc, heie upon þe ston,Lei þin heued i my barm, slep þou þe anon.'Sone so Iudas of slepe was awake,Þritti platen of seluer from hym weren itake.15He drou hymselve bi þe top, þat al it lauede a blode;Þe Iewes out of Iurselem awenden he were wode.Foret hym com þe riche Ieu þat heiste Pilatus:'Wolte sulle þi Louerd, þat hette Iesus?''I nul sulle my Louerd for nones cunnes eiste,20Bote hit be for þe þritti platen þat He me bitaiste.''Wolte sulle þi Lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?''Nay, bote hit be for þe platen þat He habben wolde.'In him com ur Lord gon, as is postles seten at mete:'Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete? (bis)25Ic am iboust ant isold today for oure mete.'Up stod him Iudas: 'Lord, am I þat?I nas neuer o þe stude þer me Þe euel spec.'Up him stod Peter, ant spec wid al is miste:'Þau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes, (bis)30Yet ic wolde, Louerd, for Þi loue fiste.''Stille þou be, Peter! Wel I þe icnowe;Þou wolt fursake me þrien ar þe coc him crowe.' Hit wes upon a Scere Þorsday þat vre Louerd aros;Ful milde were þe wordes He spec to Iudas: Hit wes upon a Scere Þorsday þat vre Louerd aros; Ful milde were þe wordes He spec to Iudas: Iudas, þou most to Iurselem, oure mete for to bugge;Þritti platen of seluer þou bere upo þi rugge. Iudas, þou most to Iurselem, oure mete for to bugge; Þritti platen of seluer þou bere upo þi rugge. Þou comest fer i þe brode stret, fer i þe brode strete;5Summe of þine cunesmen þer þou meist imete. Þou comest fer i þe brode stret, fer i þe brode strete;5 Summe of þine cunesmen þer þou meist imete. Imette wid is soster, þe swikele wimon:'Iudas, þou were wrþe me stende þe wid ston, (bis)For þe false prophete þat tou bileuest upon.' Imette wid is soster, þe swikele wimon: 'Iudas, þou were wrþe me stende þe wid ston, (bis) For þe false prophete þat tou bileuest upon.' 'Be stille, leue soster, þin herte þe tobreke!10Wiste min Louerd Crist, ful wel He wolde be wreke.' 'Be stille, leue soster, þin herte þe tobreke!10 Wiste min Louerd Crist, ful wel He wolde be wreke.' 'Iudas, go þou on þe roc, heie upon þe ston,Lei þin heued i my barm, slep þou þe anon.' 'Iudas, go þou on þe roc, heie upon þe ston, Lei þin heued i my barm, slep þou þe anon.' Sone so Iudas of slepe was awake,Þritti platen of seluer from hym weren itake.15 Sone so Iudas of slepe was awake, Þritti platen of seluer from hym weren itake.15 He drou hymselve bi þe top, þat al it lauede a blode;Þe Iewes out of Iurselem awenden he were wode. He drou hymselve bi þe top, þat al it lauede a blode; Þe Iewes out of Iurselem awenden he were wode. Foret hym com þe riche Ieu þat heiste Pilatus:'Wolte sulle þi Louerd, þat hette Iesus?' Foret hym com þe riche Ieu þat heiste Pilatus: 'Wolte sulle þi Louerd, þat hette Iesus?' 'I nul sulle my Louerd for nones cunnes eiste,20Bote hit be for þe þritti platen þat He me bitaiste.' 'I nul sulle my Louerd for nones cunnes eiste,20 Bote hit be for þe þritti platen þat He me bitaiste.' 'Wolte sulle þi Lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?''Nay, bote hit be for þe platen þat He habben wolde.' 'Wolte sulle þi Lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?' 'Nay, bote hit be for þe platen þat He habben wolde.' In him com ur Lord gon, as is postles seten at mete:'Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete? (bis)25Ic am iboust ant isold today for oure mete.' In him com ur Lord gon, as is postles seten at mete: 'Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete? (bis)25 Ic am iboust ant isold today for oure mete.' Up stod him Iudas: 'Lord, am I þat?I nas neuer o þe stude þer me Þe euel spec.' Up stod him Iudas: 'Lord, am I þat? I nas neuer o þe stude þer me Þe euel spec.' Up him stod Peter, ant spec wid al is miste:'Þau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes, (bis)30Yet ic wolde, Louerd, for Þi loue fiste.' Up him stod Peter, ant spec wid al is miste: 'Þau Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes, (bis)30 Yet ic wolde, Louerd, for Þi loue fiste.' 'Stille þou be, Peter! Wel I þe icnowe;Þou wolt fursake me þrien ar þe coc him crowe.' 'Stille þou be, Peter! Wel I þe icnowe; Þou wolt fursake me þrien ar þe coc him crowe.' Swarte smekyd smeþes smateryd wyth smokeDryue me to deth wyth den of here dyntes.Swech noys on nyghtes ne herd men neuer:What knauene cry and clateryng of knockes!Þe cammede kongons cryen after 'col, col!'5And blowen here bellewys, þat al here brayn brestes:'Huf, puf!' seith þat on; 'haf, paf!' þat oþer.Þei spyttyn and spraulyn and spellyn many spelles;Þei gnauen and gnacchen, þei gronys togydere,And holdyn hem hote wyth here hard hamers.10Of a bole-hyde ben here barm-fellys;Here schankes ben schakeled for the fere flunderys;Heuy hamerys þei han, þat hard ben handled,Stark strokes þei stryken on a stelyd stokke:Lus, bus! las, das! rowtyn be rowe.15Swech dolful a dreme þe deuyl it todryue!Þe mayster longith a lityl, and lascheth a lesse,Twyneth hem tweyn, and towchith a treble:Tik, tak! hic, hac! tiket, taket! tyk, tak!Lus, bus! lus, das! swych lyf thei ledyn20Alle cloþemerys: Cryst hem gyue sorwe!May no man for brenwaterys on nyght han hys rest! Swarte smekyd smeþes smateryd wyth smoke Dryue me to deth wyth den of here dyntes. Swech noys on nyghtes ne herd men neuer: What knauene cry and clateryng of knockes! Þe cammede kongons cryen after 'col, col!'5 And blowen here bellewys, þat al here brayn brestes: 'Huf, puf!' seith þat on; 'haf, paf!' þat oþer. Þei spyttyn and spraulyn and spellyn many spelles; Þei gnauen and gnacchen, þei gronys togydere, And holdyn hem hote wyth here hard hamers.10 Of a bole-hyde ben here barm-fellys; Here schankes ben schakeled for the fere flunderys; Heuy hamerys þei han, þat hard ben handled, Stark strokes þei stryken on a stelyd stokke: Lus, bus! las, das! rowtyn be rowe.15 Swech dolful a dreme þe deuyl it todryue! Þe mayster longith a lityl, and lascheth a lesse, Twyneth hem tweyn, and towchith a treble: Tik, tak! hic, hac! tiket, taket! tyk, tak! Lus, bus! lus, das! swych lyf thei ledyn20 Alle cloþemerys: Cryst hem gyue sorwe! May no man for brenwaterys on nyght han hys rest! I comawnde alle þe ratones þat are here abowte,Þat non dwelle in þis place, withinne ne withowte,Thorgh þe vertu of Iesu Crist, þat Mary bare abowte,Þat alle creatures owyn for to lowte,And thorgh þe vertu of Mark, Mathew, Luke, an Ion,—5Alle foure Awangelys corden into on,—Thorgh þe vertu of Sent Geretrude, þat mayde clene,God graunte þat graceÞat I comawnde alle þe ratones þat are here abowte, Þat non dwelle in þis place, withinne ne withowte, Thorgh þe vertu of Iesu Crist, þat Mary bare abowte, Þat alle creatures owyn for to lowte, And thorgh þe vertu of Mark, Mathew, Luke, an Ion,—5 Alle foure Awangelys corden into on,— Thorgh þe vertu of Sent Geretrude, þat mayde clene, God graunte þat grace Þat Þat here namis were nemeled in;10 And thorgh þe vertu of Sent Kasi, Þat holy man, þat prayed to God Almyty Forskathesþat þei deden Hys medyn Be dayes and be nyȝt,15 God bad hem flen and gon out of euery manesse syȝt. Dominus Deus Sabaot!Emanuel, þe gret Godes name! I betweche þes place from ratones and from alle oþer schame. God saue þis place fro alle oþer wykked wytes, Boþe be dayes and be nytes!et in nomine Patris et Filii,20 &c. 13skathes] taltered fromf (?)MS. 13skathes] taltered fromf (?)MS. The miracle playHarrowing of Hellis assigned to the craft of
Saddlers in the York cycle, edited by Miss L. Toulmin-Smith, Oxford
1885, pp. 372 ff. This is the text reproduced below. It is also found,
though in a less perfect form, among theTowneley Plays, ed. England
and Pollard, E.E.T.S., 1897, pp. 293 ff. All the mediaeval stories of Christ's Descent into Hell are based on the
gospel of Nicodemus, which seems to date from the fourth century, though
the legend is referred to nearly two centuries earlier. This apocryphal
narrative was popular throughout the Middle Ages. There is a prose
translation in late Anglo-Saxon, and a Middle English verse rendering
supplies some of the phrases in the play. Two points deserve notice for their bearing on the development of
miracles. A trace of their origin in the services of the Church is seen
in the use made of the Scriptural passage 'Attollite portas, principes,
vestras, et elevamini portae aeternales, et introibit rex gloriae', the
dramatic possibilities of which were recognized in ritual from an early
date. And the growing taste for comic scenes is met, without prejudice
to the serious characters, by the rudimentary buffoonery of the Devil
and his companions. DRAMATIS PERSONAE.ADAMEEUAISAIAHSYMEONIESUSIOHANNESBAPTISTAMOYSESBELSABUBSATTANDAUIDBELLIALLMICHILL(Archangel)PRIMUSDIABOLUSSECUNDUSDIABOLUS DRAMATIS PERSONAE. DRAMATIS PERSONAE. ADAMEEUAISAIAHSYMEONIESUSIOHANNESBAPTISTAMOYSESBELSABUBSATTANDAUIDBELLIALLMICHILL(Archangel)PRIMUSDIABOLUSSECUNDUSDIABOLUS ADAME EUA ISAIAH SYMEON IESUS IOHANNESBAPTISTA MOYSES BELSABUB SATTAN DAUID BELLIALL MICHILL(Archangel) PRIMUSDIABOLUS SECUNDUSDIABOLUS [SCENEI,outside the gates of Hell.]1. [SCENEI,outside the gates of Hell.] [SCENEI,outside the gates of Hell.] 1. 1. And haue thy Maker in þi mynde, And thynke howe I haue tholid for þe With pereles paynes for to be pyned. The forward of my Fadir free5 Haue I fulfillid, as folke may fynde, Þerfore aboute nowe woll I bee Þat I haue bought for to vnbynde. Þe feende þame wanne with trayne, Thurgh frewte of erthely foode;10 I haue þame getyn agayne Thurgh bying with my bloode. 2. And so I schall þat steede restoreFrowhilke þe feende fell for synne;Þare schalle mankynde wonne euermore15In blisse þat schall neuere blynne.All þat in werke my werkemen were,Owte of thare woo I wol þame wynne,And some signe schall I sende beforeOf grace, to garre þer gamys begynne.20A light I woll þei haueTo schewe þame I schall come sone;My bodie bidis in graueTille alle thes dedis be done. 2. And so I schall þat steede restore Frowhilke þe feende fell for synne; Þare schalle mankynde wonne euermore15 In blisse þat schall neuere blynne. All þat in werke my werkemen were, Owte of thare woo I wol þame wynne, And some signe schall I sende before Of grace, to garre þer gamys begynne.20 A light I woll þei haue To schewe þame I schall come sone; My bodie bidis in graue Tille alle thes dedis be done. 3. My Fadir ordand on þis wise25Aftir His will þat I schulde wende,For to fulfille þe prophicye 3. My Fadir ordand on þis wise25 Aftir His will þat I schulde wende, For to fulfille þe prophicye And als I spake my solace to spende. My frendis, þat in me faith affies, Nowe fro ther fois I schall þame fende,30 And on the thirde day ryght vprise, And so tille heuen I schall assende. Sithen schall I come agayne To deme bothe goode and ill Tille endles ioie or peyne;35 Þus is my Fadris will.,And als I spake my solace to spende.My frendis, þat in me faith affies,Nowe fro ther fois I schall þame fende,30And on the thirde day ryght vprise,And so tille heuen I schall assende.Sithen schall I come agayneTo deme bothe goode and illTille endles ioie or peyne;35Þus is my Fadris will.,And als I spake my solace to spende.My frendis, þat in me faith affies,Nowe fro ther fois I schall þame fende,30And on the thirde day ryght vprise,And so tille heuen I schall assende.Sithen schall I come agayneTo deme bothe goode and illTille endles ioie or peyne;35Þus is my Fadris will.,
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