Part 4

_Hic Lameth cum arcu sua verberat adolescentem ad mortem, dicente adolescente_,

_Adolescens._ Out, out, I deye here! my deth is now sought! This theffe with his bowe hath broke my brayn! Ther may non helpe be, my dethe is me brought, Ded here I synke down as man that is sclayn!

_Lameth._ Alas! what xal I do? wrecche, wykkyd on woolde, God wyl be vengyd ful sadly on me; ffor deth of Caym I xal have vij. folde More peyn than he had that Abelle dede sle. These to mennys deth fulle sore bought xal be, Upon alle my blood God wylle venge this dede, Wherefore sore wepyng hens wyl I fle, And loke where I may best my hede sone heyde.

_Hic recedat Lameth et statim intrat Noe cum navi cantantes_,

_Noe._ With doolful hert syenge sad and sore, Grett mornyng I make ffor this dredful flood! Of man and of best is dreynte many a skore, Alle this werd to spylle these flodys be ful wood. And alle is for synne of mannys wylde mood, That God hath ordeyned this dredfulle vengeaunce; In this flood spylt is many a mannys blood, ffor synfulle levynge of man we have gret grevauns.

Alle this hundryd ȝere ryght here have I wrought, This schypp for to make, as God dede byd me; Of alle maner bestes a copylle is in brought, Within my shypp borde on lyve for to be. Ryght longe God hath soferyd amendyng to se; Alle this hundryd ȝere God hath shewyd grace. Alas! fro gret syn man wyl not fle, God doth this vengeauns for oure gret trespase.

_Uxor Noe._ Alas! for gret ruthe of this gret vengeaunce, Gret doyl it is to se this watyr so wyde! But ȝit thankyd be God of this ordenaunce, That we be now savyd on lyve to abyde. _Seem._ ffor grett synne of lechory alle this doth betyde, Alas! that evyr suche synne xulde be wrought! This fflood is so gret on every a syde, That alle this wyde werd to care is now brought.

_Uxor Seem._ Becawse of chylderyn of God that weryn good, Dede forfete ryght sore what tyme that thei were, Synfully compellyd to Caymys blood, Therfore be we now cast in ryght grett care. _Cham._ ffor synful levynge this werde doth for-fare; So grevous vengeauns myght nevyr man se; Ovyr alle this werd wyde ther is no plot bare, With watyr and with flood God vengyd wylle be.

_Uxor Cham._ Rustynes of synne is cawse of these wawys, Alas! in this fflood this werd xal be lorn; ffor offens to God brekyng his lawys, On rokkys ryght sharp is many a man torn. _Japhet._ So grevous fflodys were nevyr ȝett beforne, Alas! that lechory this vengeauns doth gynne! It were welle bettyr ever to be unborn, Than ffor to forfetyn evyr more in that synne.

_Uxor Japhet._ Oure lord God I thanke of his gret grace, That he doth us save from this dredful payn! Hym for to wurchipe in every stede and place, We beth gretly bownde with myght and with mayn. _Noe._ Xl.ᵗⁱ days and nyghtes hath lasted this rayn, And xlᵗⁱ days this grett flood begynnyth to slake; This crowe xal I sende out to seke sum playn, Good tydynges to brynge, this massage I make.

_Hic emittat corvum, et parum expectans iterum dicat_,

This crowe on sum careyn is falle for to ete, Therfore a newe masangere I wylle fforthe now sende; ffly fforth, thou fayr dove, ovyr these waterys wete, And aspye afftere sum dry lond, oure mornyng to amend.

_Hic evolet columba; qua redeunte cum ramo viride olivæ_,

Joye now may we make of myrth that that were frende, A grett olyve bushe this dowe doth us brynge; ffor joye of this tokyn ryght hertyly we tende Our lord God to worchep, a songe let us synge.

_Hic decantent hos versus._

Mare vidit et fugit, Jordanis conversus est retrorsum. Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, Sed nomini tuo da gloriam.

_Et sic recedant cum navi._

V. ABRAHAM’S SACRIFICE.

_Introitus Abrahe, etc._

Most myghty makere of sunne and of mone, Kyng of kynges, and Lord over alle, Allemyghty God in hevyn trone, I the honowre and evyr more xal! My Lord, my God! to the I kalle, With herty wylle, Lord, I the pray, In synfulle lyff lete me nevyr falle, But lete me leve evyr to thi pay.

Abraham my name is kydde, And patryarke of age ful olde; And ȝit be the grace of God is bredde, In myn olde age, a chylde fulle bolde. Ysaac, lo! here his name is tolde, My swete sone that stondyth me by, Amonges alle chylderyn that walkyn on wolde, A lovelyer chylde is non trewly.

I thanke God with hert welle mylde, Of his gret mercy and of his hey grace, And pryncepaly ffor my suete chylde, That xal to me do gret solace. Now, suete sone, ffayre fare thi fface, fful hertyly do I love the, ffor trewe herty love now in this place, My swete childe, com, kysse now me.

_Ysaac._ At ȝoure byddynge ȝour mouthe I kys, With lowly hert I ȝow pray, ȝoure fadyrly love lete me nevyr mysse, But blysse me, ȝour chylde, bothe nyght and day. _Abraham._ Almyghty God, that best may, His dere blyssyng he graunt the, And my blyssyng thou have alle way, In what place that evyr thou be.

Now, Ysaac, my sone so suete, Almyghty God loke thou honoure, Wiche that made bothe drye and wete, Shynyng sunne and scharpe schoure. Thu art my suete childe, and par amoure fful wele in herte do I the love, Loke that thin herte, in hevyn toure Be sett to serve oure Lord God above.

In thi ȝonge lerne God to plese, And God xal quyte the weyl thi mede: Now, suete sone, of wordys these With alle thin hert thou take good hede. Now fare weyl, sone, God be thin spede! Evyn here at hom thou me abyde, I must go walkyn, ffor I have nede, I come aȝen withinne a tyde.

_Ysaac._ I pray to God, ffadyr of myght, That he ȝow spede in alle ȝour waye, From shame and shenshipp, day and nyht, God mote ȝow kepe in ȝour jornay. _Abraham._ Now fare weylle, sone! I the pray Evyr in thin hert loke God thou wynde, Hym to serve, bothe nyght and day,— I pray to God sende the good mynde. Ther may no man love bettyr his childe, Than Isaac is lovyd of me; Almyghty God, mercyful and mylde, ffor my swete son I wurchyp the! I thank the, Lord, with hert ful fre, ffor this fayr frute thou hast me sent. Now, gracyous God, wher so he be, To save my sone evyr more be bent.

Dere Lord, I pray to the also, Me to save for thi servvaunte; And sende me grace nevyr for to do Thyng that xulde be to thi displesaunte. Bothe ffor me and for myn infaunte, I pray the, Lord God, us to help,— Thy gracyous goodnes thou us grawnt, And save thi servaunt from helle qwelp.

_Angelus._ Abraham, how! Abraham, Lyst and herke weylle onto me. _Abraham._ Al redy, sere, here I am; Telle me ȝour wylle what that it be. _Angelus._ Almyghty God thus doth bydde the,— Ysaac thi sone anon thou take, And loke hym thou slee anoon, lete se, And sacrafice to God hym make.

Thy welbelovyd childe thou must now kylle, To God thou offyr hym, as I say, Evyn upon ȝon hey hylle, That I the shewe here in the way. Tarye not be nyght nor day, But smertly thi gate thou goo; Upon ȝon hille thou knele and pray To God, and kylle the childe ther and scloo!

_Abraham._ Now Goddys comaundement must nedys be done, Alle his wyl is wourthy to be wrought; But ȝitt the fadyr to scle the sone, Grett care it causyth in my thought. In byttyr bale now am I brought My swete childe with knyf to kylle; But ȝit my sorwe avaylith ryght nowth, For nedys I must werke Goddys wylle.

With evy hert I walke and wende, My childys deth now for to be, Now must the fadyr his suete sone schende Alas! for ruthe it is peté! My swete sone, come hedyr to me: How, Isaac, my sone dere, Com to thi ffadyr, my childe so fre, ffor we must wende to-gedyr in fere.

_Isaac._ Alle redy fadyr, evyn at ȝour wylle, And at ȝour byddyng I am ȝow by, With ȝow to walk ovyr dale and hille, At ȝoure callyng I am redy. To the fadyr evyr most comly, It ovyth the childe evyr buxom to be; I wyl obey, ful hertyly, To alle thyng that ȝe bydde me.

_Abraham._ Now, son, in thi necke this fagot thou take, And this fyre here in thinne honde, ffor we must now sacrefyse go make, Evyn aftyr the wylle of Goddys sonde. Take this brennyng bronde, My swete childe, and lete us go; Ther may no man that levyth in londe, Have more sorwe than I have wo.

_Ysaac._ ffayr fadyr, ȝe go ryght stylle, I pray ȝow, fadyr, speke onto me. _Abraham._ Mi gode childe, what is thi wylle? Telle me thyn hert, I pray to the. _Ysaac._ ffadyr, fyre and wood here is plenté, But I kan se no sacryfice; What ȝe xulde offre fayn wold I se, That it were don at the best avyse.

_Abraham._ God xal that ordeyn that sytt in hevynne, My swete sone, ffor this offryng, A derrere sacryfice may no man nempne, Than this xal be, my dere derlyng. _Ysaac._ Lat be, good fadyr, ȝour sad wepynge! ȝour hevy cher agrevyth me sore: Telle me, fadyr, ȝour grett mornyng, And I xal seke sum help therfore.

_Abraham._ Alas! dere sone, for nedys must me, Evyn here the kylle, as God hath sent; Thyn owyn fadyr thi deth must be,— Alas! that evyr this bowe was bent. With this fyre bryght thou must be brent, An aungelle seyd to me ryght so: Alas! my chylde, thou xalt be shent! Thi careful fadyr must be thi ffo!

_Ysaac._ Almyghty God, of his grett mercye, fful hertyly I thanke the sertayne: At Goddys byddyng here for to dye, I obeye me here for to be sclayne. I pray ȝow, fadyr, be glad and fayne, Trewly to werke Goddys wylle: Take good comforte to ȝow agayn, And have no dowte ȝour childe to kylle. ffor Godys byddyng forsothe it is, That I of ȝow my deth schulde take: Aȝens God ȝe don amys, Hys byddyng yf ȝe xuld forsake. ȝowre owyn dampnacion xulde ȝe bake, If ȝe me kepe from this reed; With ȝour swerd my deth ȝe make, And werk evyrmore the wylle of God.

_Abraham._ The wylle of God must nedys be done! To werke his wylle I seyd nevyr nay; But ȝit the ffadyr to sle the sone, My hert doth clynge and cleve as clay. _Ysaac._ ȝitt werke Goddys wylle, fadyr, I ȝow pray, And sle me here anoon forthe ryght, And turne fro me ȝour face away, Myne heed whan that ȝe xul of smyght.

_Abraham._ Alas! dere childe, I may not chese,— must nedys my swete sone kylle! My dere derlyng, now must me lese, Myn owyn sybb blood now xal I spylle! ȝitt this dede or I fulfylle, My swete sone, thi mouth I kys. _Ysaac._ Al redy, fadyr, evyn at ȝour wylle I do ȝour byddyng, as reson is.

_Abraham._ Alas! dere sone, here is no grace, But nedis ded now must thou be! With this kerchere I kure thi face, In the tyme that I sle the. Thy lovely vesage wold I not se, Not for alle this werdlys good: With this swerd, that sore grevyht me, My childe I sle and spylle his blood!

_Angelus._ Abraham! Abraham! thou fadyr fre. _Abraham._ I am here redy, what is ȝour wylle? _Angelus._ Extende thin hand in no degré, I bydde thou hym not kylle! Here do I se by ryght good skylle, Allemyghty God that thou dost drede. For thou sparyst nat thi sone to spylle,— God wylle aqwhyte the welle thi mede.

_Abraham._ I thank my God in hevyn above, And hym honowre for this grett grace! And that my Lord me thus doth prove, I wylle hym wurchep in every place. My childys lyff is my solace, I thank myn God evyr for his lyff, In sacrifice here or I hens pace, I sle this shepe with this same knyff.

Now this shepe is deed and slayn, With this fyre it xal be brent; Of Isaac my sone I am ful fayn, That my swete childe xal not be shent. This place I name, with good entent, The hille of Godys vesytacion: ffor hedyr God hath to us sent His comforte, aftyr grett trybulacion.

_Angelus._ Herke, Abraham, and take good heyd! By hymself God hath thus sworne, ffor that thou woldyst a done this dede, He wylle the blysse bothe evyn and morne. ffor thi dere childe thou woldyst have lorn, At Goddys byddyng, as I the telle; God hath sent the word beforn, Thi seed xal multyplye, wher so thou duelle.

As sterres in hevyn byn many and fele, So xal thi seed encrese and growe; Thou xalt ovyrcome, in welthe and wele, Alle thi fomen reknyd be rowe. As sond in the se doth ebbe and flowe, Hath cheselys many unnumerabylle, So xal thi sede, thou mayst me trowe, Encres and be evyr prophytabylle.

ffor to my speche thou dedyst obeye, Thyn enmyes portes thou shalt possede; And alle men on erthe, as I the seye, Thei xal be blyssed in thi sede. Almyghty God thus the wylle mede, ffor that good wylle that thou ast done, Therfore thank God, in word and dede, Bothe thou thiself, and Ysaac thi sone.

_Abraham._ A! my lord God to wurchep on kne now I falle! I thank the, Lord, of thi mercy! Now, my swete childe, to God thou kalle, And thank we that Lord now hertyly. _Isaac._ With lowly hert to God I crye,— I am his servvant bothe day and nyght! I thank the, Lord, in hevyn so hyȝe, With hert, with thought, with mayn, with myght!

_Abraham._ Gramercy, Lord, and kyng of grace! Gramercy, Lord over lordys alle! Now my joye returnyth his trace, I thank the, Lorde, in hevyn thin halle. _Isaac._ Ovyr alle kynges crownyd kyng, I the kalle! At thi byddyng to dye with knyff, I was fful buxum evyn as thi thralle;— Lord, now I thank the, thou grauntyst me lyff.

_Abraham._ Now we have wurchepyd oure blyssyd lorde, On grounde knelyng upon oure kne; Now lete us tweyn, sone, ben of on acorde, And goo walke hom into oure countré. _Ysaac._ ffadyr, as ȝe wylle, so xal it be, I am redy with ȝow to gon; I xal ȝow folwe with hert fulle fre; Alle that ȝe bydde me, sone xal be don.

_Abraham._ Now, God alle thyng of nowth that made, Evyr wurcheppyd he be on watyr and londe! His gret honowre may nevyr more fade, In felde nor town, se nor on sonde! As althyng, Lord, thou hast in honde, So save us alle, wher so we be,— Whethyr we syttyn, walk, or stonde, Evyr on thin handwerke thou have pyté!

_Explicit._

VI. MOSES AND THE TWO TABLES.

_Introitus Moyses._

He that made alle thynge of nought, Hevyn and erthe, bothe sunne and mone, Save alle that his hand hath wrought, Allemyghty God in hevyn trone! I am Moyses that make this bone, I pray the, Lord God, with alle my mende, To us inclyne thi mercy sone, Thi gracyous lordchep lete us fynde.

The to plesyn in alle degré, Gracyous God and Lord ovyr alle, Thou graunte us grace, wher so we be, And save us sownd fro synfulle falle. Thy wylle to werke to us thi thralle, Enforme and teche us all thi plesans, In purenesse put us that nevyr not falle, And grounde us in grace ffrom alle grevauns.

_Hic Moyses videns rubrum ardentem admirande dicit_,

A! mercy, God, what menyth ȝon syte? A grene busche as fyre doth flame, And kepyth his colowre fayr and bryghte, ffresche and grene withowtyn blame. It fyguryth sumthynge of ryght gret fame, I kan not seyn what it may be, I wylle go nere, in Goddys name, And wysely loke this busche to se. _Deus._ Moyses, how! Moyses, Herke to me anon this stounde. _Moyses._ I am here, Lorde, withowtyn les, ȝowre gracyous wylle to do I am bounde. _Deus._ Thu take thi schon anon ful rownde Of thi fete in hast, lete se, fful holy is that place and grownde, Ther thou dost stonde, I sey to the. _Moyses._ Barfoot now I do me make, And pulle of my schon fro my fete: Now have I my schon of take, What is ȝour wylle, Lord? fayn wold I wete. _Deus._ Com nere, Moyses, with me to mete, These tabelleis I take the in thin honde, With my ffynger in hem is wrete Alle my lawys, thou undyrstonde.

Loke that thou preche alle abowte, Hoo so wylle have frenshipp of me, To my lawys loke thei lowte, That thei be kept in alle degré. Go forthe and preche anon, let se, Loke thou not ses nyght nor day. _Moyses._ ȝour byddyng, Lord, alle wrought xal be, ȝour wylle to werk I walk my way.

“Custodi precepta domini Dei tui.” _Deutronomini_ vj.ᵗᵒ

The comaundment of thi Lord God, man, loke thou kepe, Where that thou walk, wake, or slepe, Every man take good hede, And to my techynge take good intent; For God hath sent me now indede, ȝow for to enforme his comaundment; ȝow to teche God hath me sent, His lawys of lyff that arn ful wyse; Them to lern be dyligent, ȝoure soulys may thei save at the last asyse.

The preceptes that taught xal be, Be wretyn in these tablys tweyn: In the fyrst ben wretyn thre, That towche to God, this is serteyn. In the secund tabyl be wretyn ful pleyn, The tother vij. that towche mankende: Herk now welle, man, what I xal seyn, And prent thise lawys welle in thi mende.

_Primum mandatum._ “Non habebis Deos alienos.”

The fyrst comaundement of God, as I ȝow say, Of the fyrst tabyl forsothe is this, Thou xalt have, neythyr nyght nore day, Noon other God but the kyng of blysse. Undyrstonde wele what menyth this, Every man in his degré, And sett nevyr ȝour hert amys, Upon this werdlys vanyté.

ffor if thou sett thi love so sore Upon ryches and werdly good, Thi wurdly rycches thou takyst evermore Evyn for thi God, as man ovyr wood; Amend the, man, and chaunge thi mood, Lese not thi sowle for werdlys welthe, Only hym love whiche bodyly ffood Doth ȝeve alle day, and gostly helthe.

_Secundum mandatum._ “Non assumens nomen Dei tui in vanum.”

The secund precept of the fyrst tabylle, The name of God take nevyr in vayne, Swere none othis be noon fals fabylle,— The name of God thou nevyr dysteyn. Bewhare of othis for dowte of peyn, Amonges ffelachepp whan thou dost sytt, A lytyl othe, this is serteyn, May dampne thy sowle to helle pytt.

Man, whan thou art sett at the nale, And hast thi langage as plesyth the, Loke thin othis be non or smale, And ȝett alwey loke trewe thei be. But swere not oftyn by rede of me, ffor yf thou use oftyn tyme to swere, It may gendyr custom in the; Byware of custom, ffor he wyl dere.

_Tercium mandatum._ “Memento ut sabbatum sanctificet.”

The iij.ᵈᵉ comaundment of God, as I rede, Dothe bydde the halwe welle thin halyday, Kepe the welle ffro synfulle dede, And care not gretly ffor ryche aray. A ryght pore man, this is non nay, Of sympyl astat in clothis rent, May be bettyr than ryche with garmentes gay, Oftyn tyme doth kepe this comaundment.

ffor ryche men do shewe oftyntyme pompe and pride, On halydayes, as oftyn is sene; Whan pore men passe and go besyde, At wurthy festys riche men wolle bene. Thyn halyday thou kepyst not clene In gloteny to lede thi lyff, In Goddys hous ȝe xulde be-dene Honoure your God, bothe mayden and wyff.

_Quartum Mandatum._ “Honora patrem tuum et matrem tuam.”

Off the secunde tabylle the fyrst comaundment, And in the ordyr the iiij.ᵗᵉ, I sey in fay, He byddyth the evermore with hert bent, Bothe ffadyr and modyr to wurchep alway. Thow that thi fadyr be pore of array, And ȝow never so ryche of golde and good, ȝitt loke thou wurchep hym nyght and day, Of whom thou hast bothe fflesche and blood.

In this comaundmente includyd is The bodyli fadyr and modyr also, Includyd also I fynde in this, Thi gostly fadyr and modyr therto. To thi gostly ffadyr evyr reverens do, Thi gostly modyr is holy cherche; These tweyn save thi sowle fro woo, Ever them to wurchep loke that thou werche.

_Quintum mandatum._ “Non occides.”

The ffyfft comaundement byddyth alle us, Scle no man, no whight that thou kylle; Undyrstonde this precept thus, Scle no wyght with wurd nor wylle. Wykkyd worde werkyht oftyntyme grett ille, Be war therfore of wykkyd langage, Wyckyd speche many on doth spylle, Therfore of speche bethe not owtrage.

_Sextum mandatum._ “Non makaberis.”

The sexte comaundement byddith every man, That no wyght lede no lecherous lay, fforfett never be no woman, Lesse than the lawe alowe thi play. Trespas nevyr with wyff, ne may, With wedow, nor with non othyr wyght; Kepe the clene, as I the say, To whom thou hast thi trowth plyght.

_Septimum mandatum._ “Non furtum facies.”

Do no thefte, no thynge thou stele, The vij.ᵗᵉ precept byddyth the ful sore; Whylle thou arte in welthe and wele, Evylle gett good loke thou restore. Off handys and dede be trewe evyrmore, ffor yf thin handys lymyd be, Thou art but shent, thi name is lore, In ffelde and towne, and in alle countré.

_Octavum mandatum._ “Non loqueris contra proximum tuum falsum testimonium.”

The viij.ᵗᵉ precept thus doth the bydde, ffals wyttnes loke non thou bere, The trowthe nevyr more loke that thou hyde, With ffals wyttnes no man thou dere. Nowther ffor love, ne dred, ne fere, Sey non other than trowthe is, ffals wytnes yf that thou rere, Aȝens God thou dost grettly amys.

_Nonum mandatum._ “Non desiderabis uxorem proximi tui, etc.”

The ix.ᵗᵉ precept of lawe of lyff, Evyn thus doth bydde every man, Desyre not thi neybores wyff, Thow she be fayr and whyte as swan, And thi wyff brown; ȝitt natt for-than Thi neybores wyff thou nevyr rejoyse, Kepe the clene, as evyr thou can, To thin owyn wyff, and thin owyn choyse.

_Decimum mandatum._ “Non concupisces domum proximi tui, non servum, non ancillam, non bos, non asinum, nec omnia quæ illius sunt, etc.”

The x.ᵈᵉ comaundement of God and last is this, Thi neybores hous desyre thou nowth, Maydon, nor servaunt, nor nowth of his, Desyre hem nevyr in wylle nor thowth. Oxe nere asse that he hath bought, Nere no thynge that longyht hym to, Godys lawe must nedys be wrought, Desyre no thynge thin neybore ffro.

The vj.ᵗᵉ comaundement of lechery Doth exclude the synfulle dede, But theys tweyn last most streytly, Bothe dede and thought thei do forbede. In wylle nere thought no lechory thou lede, Thi thought and wylle thou must refreyn, Alle thi desyre, as I the rede, In clennes of lyff thiself restreyn.

ffrendys, these be the lawys that ȝe must kepe, Therfore every man sett welle in mende, Wethyr that thou do wake or slepe, These lawys to lerne thou herke ful hynde. And Godys grace xal be thi ffrende, He socowre and save ȝow in welthe fro woo! ffare welle, gode frendys, for hens wyll I wende, My tale I have taught ȝow, my wey now I goo.

_Explicit Moyses._

VII. THE PROPHETS.

_Ysaias._

I am the prophete callyd Isaye, Replett with Godys grett influens, And sey pleynly, be spyryte of prophecie, That a clene mayde, thourghe meke obedyens, Shalle bere a childe whiche xal do resystens Ageyn foule ȝabulon, the devyl of helle, Mannys soule ageyn hym to defens,— Opyn in the felde the fend he xal felle.

Wherefore I seye quod virgo concipiet Et pariet filium nomen Emanuel, Oure lyf for to save he xal suffyr dethe, And bye us to his blysse in hevyn for to dwelle. Of sacerdotale lynage, the trewth I ȝow telle, fflesche and blood to take God wylle be borne; Joye to man in erth, and in hevyn aungelle At the chyldys byrthe joye xal make that morn.

_Radix Jesse._

Egredietur virga de radice Jesse, Et flos de radice ejus ascendet. A blyssyd braunche xal sprynge of me, That xal be swettere than bawmys brethe; Oute of that braunche, in Nazareth A flowre xal blome of me, Jesse rote, The whiche by grace xal dystroye dethe, And brynge mankende to blysse most sote.