Part 8

Ow! dame, what thinge menyth this? With childe thou gynnyst ryth gret to gone. Sey me, Mary, this childys fadyr ho is? I pray the telle me, and that anon. _Maria._ The fadyr of hevyn and ȝe it is, Other fadyr hath be non; I dede nevyr forfete with man i-wys; Wherfore I pray ȝow amende ȝour mon,— This childe is Goddys and ȝour. _Joseph._ Goddys childe! thou lyist, in fay; God dede nevyr jape so with may, And I can nevyr ther, I dare wel say, ȝitt so nyh thi boure. But ȝit I sey, Mary, whoos childe is this? _Maria._ Goddys and ȝoure, I sey i-wys. _Joseph._ ȝa! ȝa! alle olde men to me take tent, And weddyth no wyff in no kynnys wyse, That is a ȝonge wenche, be myn asent, ffor doute and drede and swyche servyse. Alas! alas! my name is shent! Alle men may me now dyspyse, And seyn, “olde cokwold, thi bowe is bent Newly now after the Frensche gyse.” Alas and welaway! Alas! dame, why dedyst thou so? ffor this synne that thou hast do, I the forsake and from the go, ffor onys, evyr, and ay. _Maria._ Alas! gode spowse, why sey ȝe thus? Alas! dere hosbund, amende ȝour mod. It is no man, but swete Jhesus, He wylle be clad in flesche and blood, And of ȝour wyff be born. Sephor, ffor sothe, the aungel, thus seyd he, That Goddys sone in Trynité, ffor mannys sake a man wolde be, To save that is forlorn.

_Joseph._ An aungel! allas, alas! fy for schame! ȝe syn now in that ȝe to say, To puttyn an aungel in so gret blame. Alas! alas! let be, do way. It was sum boy began this game, That clothyd was clene and gay; And ȝe ȝeve hym now an aungele name,— Alas! alas and welaway! That evyr this game betydde. A! dame, what thought haddyst thou? Here may alle men this proverbe trow, That many a man doth bete the bow, Another man hath the brydde.

_Maria._ A! gracyous God, in hefne trone, Comforte my spowse in this hard cas; Mercyful God amend his mone, As I dede nevyr to gret trespas. _Joseph._ Lo! lo! seres, what told I ȝow, That it was not for my prow, A wyff to take me to; An that is wel sene now, ffor Mary I make god avow, Is grett with childe, lo! Alas! why is it so? To the busshop I wole it telle, That he the lawe may here do, With stonys here to qwelle.

Nay! nay! ȝet God fforbede, That I xuld do that vegeabyl dede, But if I wyst wel qwy. I knew never with here, so God me spede, Tokyn of thynge in word nor dede That towchyd velany. Nevyr-the-les what for-thy, Thow she be meke and mylde, Withowith mannys company She myght not be with childe.

But I ensure myn was it nevyr; Thow that she hath not done here devyr. Rather than I xuld pleynyn opynly, Serteynly ȝitt had I levyr fforsake the countré ffor evyr, And nevyr come in here company. ffor and men knew this velany, In repreff thei wolde me holde, And ȝett many bettyr than I, ȝa, hath ben made cokolde.

Now, alas! whedyr xal I gonne? I wot nevyr whedyr nor to what place; ffor oftyn tyme sorwe comyth sone, And lenge it is or it pace,— No comforte may I have here. I wys wyff thou dedyst me wronge; Alas! I traryed from the to longe, Alle men have pety on me amonge, ffor to my sorwe is no chere.

_Maria._ God, that in my body art sesyd, Thou knowist myn husbond is dysplesyd, To se me in this plight. ffor unknowlage he is desesyd, And therefore help that he were esyd, That he myght knowe the ful perfyght. ffor I have levyr abyde respyt, To kepe thi sone in privité, Grauntyd by the Holy Spyryt, Than that it xulde be opynd by me. _Deus._ Descende, I sey, myn aungelle, Onto Joseph, for to telle Suche as my wyl is; Byd hym with Mary abyde and dwelle, ffor it my sone fful snelle That she is with i-wys. _Angelus._ Almyghty God of blys, I am redy ffor to wende Wedyr as thi wyl is, To go bothe fer and hynde. Joseph, Joseph; thou wepyst shryle, ffro thi wyff why comyst thou owte? _Joseph._ Good sere, lete me wepe my ffylle, Go forthe thi wey and lett me nowght. _Angelus._ In thi wepynge, thou dost ryght ylle, Aȝens God thou hast myswrought; Go chere thi wyff with herty wylle, And chawnge thi chere, amende thi thought. Sche is a ful clene may. I telle the, God wyl of here be born, And sche clene mayd as she was beforn, To save mankynd that is forlorn, Go chere hyre therfore, I say.

_Joseph._ A! lord God, benedicite! Of thi gret comforte I thank the, That thou sent me this space. I myght wel a wyst par-dé, So good a creature as she Wold nevyr a donne trespace. For sche is ful of Grace; I know wel I have myswrought, I walk to my pore place,— I aske fforgyfnes, I have mysthought.

Now is the tyme sen at eye, That the childe is now to veryfye, Whiche xal save mankende, As it was spoke be prophesye; I thank the, God, that syttys on hye, With hert, wyl, and mende, That evyr thou woldyst me bynde To wedde Mary to my wyff, Thi blysful sone so nere to fynde, In his presens to lede my lyff.

Alas! ffor joy I qwedyr and qwake; Alas! what hap now was this? A mercy, mercy, my jentyl make,— Mercy! I have seyd al amys; Alle that I have seyd here I forsake: ȝour swete fete now lete me kys. _Mary._ Nay, lett be my fete, not tho ȝe take, My mowthe ȝe may kys i-wys, And welcome onto me.

_Joseph._ Gramercy, myn owyn swete wyff, Gramercy, myn hert, my love, my lyff, Xal I nevyr more make such stryf Betwix me and the. A! Mary, Mary, wel thou be, And blyssyd be the frewte in the, Goddys sone of myght! Now good wyff, fful of pyté, As be not evyl payd with me, Thow that thou have good ryght. As for my wronge in syght, To wyte the with ony synne, Had thou not be a vertuous wythe, God wold not a be the withinne.

I knowlage I have don amys, I was never wurthy i-wys ffor to be thin husbonde; I xal amende aftere thys, Ryght as thin owyn wyl is, To serve the at foot and honde. And thi chylde bothe to undyrstonde, To wurchep hym with good affeccion; And therfore telle me, and nothinge whonde, The holy matere of ȝour concepcion. _Maria._ At ȝowre owyn wylle, as ȝe bydde me; Ther came an aunge hyght Gabryelle, And gret me ffayr and seyd Ave, And ferther more to me gan telle God xulde be borne of my bodé, The ffendys powsté ffor to ffelle, Thorwe the Holy Gost, as I wel se, Thus God in me wyl byde and dwelle. _Joseph._ Now I thank God with speche and spelle, That evyr, Mary, I was weddyd to the. _Mary._ It was the werk of God, as I ȝow telle, Now blyssyd be that Lord so purveyd for me.

XIII. THE VISIT TO ELIZABETH.

_Maria._ Butt, husbond, of oo thynge I pray ȝow most mekely, I have knowyng that oure cosyn Elyȝabeth with childe is; That it plese ȝow to go to here hastyly, If owught we myth comforte here, it were to me blys. _Joseph._ A! Godys sake is she with childe, sche? Than wole here husbond ȝakarye be mery. In Montana they dwelle fer hens, so mot y the, In the cety of Juda, I knowe it veryly; It is hens, I trowe, myles two and ffyfty, We are like to be wery or we come at that same; I wole with a good wyl, blyssyd wyff Mary,— Now go we forthe than in Goddys name. _Maria._ Goth husbond, thow it be to ȝow peyne, This jurny I pray ȝow lete us go fast, ffor I am schamfast of the pepyl to be seyne, And namely of men, therof I am agast. Pylgrymages and helpynges wolde be go in hast, The more the body is peynyd, the more is the mede; Say ȝe ȝour devocionys, and I xal myn reast(?), Now in this jurny God mote us spede! _Joseph._ Amen! Amen! and evyr more; Lo! wyff, lo! how starkly I go before.

_Et sic transient circa placeam._

_Contemplacio._ Sovereynes, undyrstondyth that kynge Davyd here Ordeyned ffoure and twenty prestys of grett devocion, In the temple of God after here let apere, Thei weryd clepyd _summi sacerdotes_ ffor her mynistracion. And on was prynce of prestys havynge domynacyon, Amonge whiche was an old prest clepyd ȝakarye, And he had an old woman to his wyff of holy conversacion, Whiche hyth Eliȝabeth, that nevyr had childe verylye.

In hese mynistracion the howre of incense, The aungel Gabryel apperyd hym to, That hese wyff xulde conseyve he ȝaff hym intelligence, Hes juge, hes unwurthynes, and age not belevyd so.

The plage of dompnesse his lippis lappyd, lo! Thei wenten hom and his wyff was conseyvenge; This concepcion Gabryel tolde oure lady to, And in soth sone aftere that sage sche was sekynge. And of her tweyners metyng Here gynnyth the proces, Now God be oure begynnynge, And of my tonge I wole ses.

_Joseph._ A! A! wyff, in feyth I am wery, Therfore I wole sytt downe and rest me ryght here. Lo! wyff, here is the house of ȝakary, Wole ȝe I clepe Elyȝabeth to ȝow to apere. _Maria._ Nay, husbond, and it plese ȝow I xal go ner, Now the blyssyd Trynité be in this hous! A! cosyn Eliȝabeth, swete modyr, what cher? ȝe grow grett, a! my God! how ȝe be gracyous. _Eliȝabethe._ Anon as I herd of ȝow this holy gretynge, Mekest mayden and the modyr of God, Mary, Be ȝour breth the Holy Gost us was inspyrynge, That the childe in my body enjoyd gretly, And turnyd downe on his knes to oure God reverently, Whom ȝe bere in your body this veryly I ken, ffulfyllyd with the Holy Gost thus lowde I cry, Blyssyd be thou amonge alle women. And blyssyd be the frute of thi wombe also, Thou wurthyest virgyne and wyff that ever was wrought! How is it that the modyr of God me xulde come to? That wrecche of alle wrecchis, a whyght wers than nought! And thou art blyssyd, that belevyd veryly in thi thought, That the wurde of God xulde profyte in the, But how this blyssydnes abought was brought, I cannot thynk nyn say how it myght be. _Maria._ To the preysyng of God, cosyn, this seyd mut be, Whan I sat in my lytyl hous onto God praynge, Gabryel come and seyde to me, Ave! Ther I conceyved God at my consentynge, Parfyte God and parfyte man at onys beynge; Than the aungel seyd onto me, That it was sex monethys syn ȝour conseyvynge, This cawsyth my comynge, cosyn, ȝow to comfort and se. _Eliȝabeth._ Blyssyd be ȝe, cosyn, ffor ȝour hedyr comynge, How I conseyvyd I xal to ȝow say; The aungel apperyd the howre of incensynge, Seynge I xulde conseyve, and hym thought nay. Sethe ffor his mystrost he hath be dowme alway, And thus of my concepcion I have ȝow sum. _Maria._ ffor this holy psalme I begynne here this day, Magnificat anima mea Dominum, Et exultavit spiritus meus in Deo salutari meo. _Eliȝabeth._ Be the Holy Gost with joye Goddys son is in the cum, That thi spyryte so injonyid the helth of thi God so. _Maria._ Quia respexit humilitatem ancillæ suæ, Ecce enim ex hoc beatam me dicent omnes generationes. _Eliȝabeth._ ffor he beheld the lownes of hese hand maydeȝe, So ferforthe ffor that alle generacionys blysse ȝow in pes. _Maria._ Quia fecit mihi magna qui potens est, Et sanctum nomen ejus. _Eliȝabeth._ ffor grett thynges he made and also myghtyest, And ryght holy is the name of hym in us. _Maria._ Et misericordia ejus a progenie in progenies, Timentibus eum. _Eliȝabeth._ ȝa, the mercy of hym fro that kynde into the kynde of pes, ffor alle that hym drede now is he cum. _Maria._ Fecit potenciam in brachio suo, Disspersit superbos mente cordis sui. _Eliȝabeth._ The pore in his ryght arme he hath mad so, The prowde to dyspeyre and the thought of here hertys only. _Maria._ Deposuit potentes de sede, Et exaltavit humiles. _Eliȝabeth._ The prowde men fro hey setys put he, And the lowly upon heyth in the sete of pes. _Maria._ Esurientes implevit bonis, Et divites dimisit inanes. _Eliȝabeth._ Alle the pore and the nedy he fulfyllyth with his goodys, And the ryche he fellyth to voydnes. _Maria._ Suscepit Israel puerum suum, Recordatus est misericordiæ suæ. _Eliȝabeth._ Israel for his childe up toke he to cum, On his mercy to thynk ffor hese that be. _Maria._ Sicut locutus est ad patres nostros, Abraham et semini ejus in secula. _Eliȝabeth._ As he spak here to oure forfaderys in clos, Abraham and to alle hese sede of hym in this werd sa. _Maria._ Gloria Patri et Filio Et Spiritui Sancto. _Eliȝabeth._ Presyng be to the Fadyr in hevyn lo! The same to the Son here be so, The Holy Gost also to ken! _Maria._ Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, Et in secula seculorum! Amen. _Eliȝabeth._ As it was in the begynnynge and now is and xal be for evyr, And in this werd in alle good werkys to abydyn then. _Maria._ This psalme of proyhesye seyd betwen us tweyn, In hefne it is wretyn with aungellys hond, Evyr to be songe and also to be seyn, Every day amonge us at oure evesong. But, cosyn Elyȝabeth, I xal ȝow here kepe, And this thre monethis abide here now, Tyl ȝe han childe, to wasche, skore, and swepe, And in alle that I may to comforte ȝow. _Eliȝabeth._ A! ȝe modyr of God, ȝe shewe us here how We xulde be meke that wrecchis here be; Alle hefne and herthe wurchepp ȝow mow, That are trone and tabernakyl of the hyȝ Trinité. _Joseph._ A! how do ȝe, how do ȝe, ffadyr ȝacharye? We ffalle ffast in age withowte othe; Why shake ȝe so ȝour hed? have ȝe the palsye? Why speke ȝe not, sere? I trowe ȝe are not wroth. _Eliȝabeth._ Nay, wys ffadyr Joseph, therto he were ful loth, It is the vesytation of God he may not speke veryly; Lete us thank God therffor bothe, He xal remedy it whan it plesyth his mercy. Come and pray ȝow specialy; I-wys ȝe are welcome, Mary; ffor this comfortabelest comynge, good God, gramercy! _Joseph._ Of ȝour dissese thynkys no greff, Thank God of al adversyté, ffor he wyl chastyse and repreff Tho that he lovyth most hertylé. Mary, I hold best that we go hens, We have fer hom withowt fayl. _Maria._ Al redy husbond without defens, I wyl werke be ȝour counsayl. Cosyn, be ȝour leve and ȝour lycens, For homward now us must travayl. Of this refreschynge in ȝour presens, God ȝeld ȝow that most may avayl. _Elizabeth._ Now, cosynes bothe, Gow ȝow spede, And wete ȝow wele withowtyn mo, ȝour presens comfortyth me indede; And therfore now am I ryght wo, That ȝe, my ffrendys and my kynrede, Thus sone now xul parte me fro: But I pray God he mote ȝow lede, In every place wher so ȝe go.

_Here Mary and Eliȝabet partyn, and Eliȝabeth goth to Zakarie, and seyth_,

Good husbond, ryse up, I beseke ȝow, And go we to the temple now fast To wurchep God with that we mow, And thank hym bothe, this is my cast Of the tyme that is comynge now; ffor now is cum mercy, and venjauns is past: God wyl be born for mannys prow, To brynge us to blysse, that ever xal last.

_Contemplacio._ Lystenyth, sovereynys, here is a conclusyon, How the Ave was mad here is lernyd us; The aungel seyd “Ave, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, Benedicta tu in mulieribus.” Elyȝabeth seyd, “Et benedictus fructus ventris tui.” Thus the chirche addyd Maria and Jhesus her: Who seyth oure ladyes sawtere dayly for a ȝer thus, He hath pardon ten thowsand and eyte hundryd ȝer.

Than ferther to oure matere to precede, Mary with Eliȝabeth abod ther stylle iij. monthys fully, as we rede, Thankynge God with hertly wylle. A! Lord God, what hous was this on? That these childeryn and here moderes to, As Mary and Eliȝabeth, Jhesus and John, And Joseph and Zakarye also.

And evyr oure lady abod stylle thus, Tyl John was of his modyr born, And than ȝakarye spak i-wus, That had be dowm and his speche lorn. He and Eliȝabeth prophesyed as thus, They mad _Benedictus_ them beforn; And so _Magnificat_, and _Benedictus_, ffyrst in that place ther made worn.

Whan alle was don, oure Lady fre Toke here leve; than aftere this, At Eliȝabeth and at ȝakarie, And kyssyd John and gan hym blys.

Now most mekely we thank ȝow of ȝour pacyens, And beseke ȝou of ȝour good supportacion, If here hathe be seyd or don any inconvenyens, We asygne it to ȝour good deliberacion; Besekynge to Crystes precious passyon, Conserve and rewarde ȝour hedyr comynge! With Ave we begunne, and Ave is oure conclusyon, _Ave regina cœlorum_ to oure Lady we synge.

XIV. THE TRIAL OF JOSEPH AND MARY.

_Den._ Avoyd, seres, and lete my lorde the buschop come, And syt in the courte the lawes ffor to doo; And I xal gon in this place them for to somowne, Tho that ben in my book the court ȝe must com too. I warne ȝow here alle abowte, That I somown ȝow alle the rowte, Loke ȝe fayl, for no dowte, At the court to pere. Bothe John Jurdon, and Geffrey Gyle, Malkyn Mylkedoke, and fayr Mabyle, Stevyn Sturdy, and Jak at the Style, And Sawdyr Sadelere.

Thom Tynkere and Betrys Belle, Peyrs Potter and Whatt at the Welle, Symme Smalfeyth and Kate Kelle, And Bertylmew the Bochere. Kytt Cakelere and Colett Crane, Gylle Fetyse and fayr Jane, Powle Pewterere and Pernel Prane, And Phelypp the good Flecchere.

Cok Crane and Davy Drydust, Luce Lyere and Letyce Lytyltrust, Miles the Myllere and Colle Crakecrust, Bothe Bette the Bakere, and Robyn Rede. And loke ȝe rynge wele in ȝour purs, ffor ellys ȝour cawse may spede the wurs, Thow that ȝe slynge Goddys curs Evyn at myn hede, ffast com away. Bothe Boutyng the Browstere, and Sybyly Slynge, Megge Merywedyr and Sabyn Sprynge, Tyffany Twynkelere, ffayle ffor nothynge, The courte xal be this day.

_Hic intrabit pagentum de purgatione Mariæ et Joseph. Hic dicit primus detractor_,

A! A! serys, God save ȝow alle, Here is a fayr pepyl in good ffay; Good seres, telle me what men me calle, I trowe ȝe kannot be this day; ȝitt I walke wide and many way, But ȝet ther I come I do no good, To reyse slawdyr is al my lay, Bakbytere is my brother of blood.

Dede he ought come hedyr in al this day, Now wolde God that he were here! And be my trewthe, I dare wel say, That yf we tweyn togedyr apere, More slawndyr we to xal arere, Within an howre thorweouth this town, Than evyr ther was this thowsand ȝere, And ellys I shrewe ȝow bothe up and downe.

Now be my trewthe I have a syght Evyn of my brother, lo! where he is: Welcom, dere brother, my trowthe I plyght, ȝowre jentyl mowth let me now kys. _Secundus detractor._ Gramercy, brother, so have I blys, I am ful glad we met this day. _Primus detractor._ Ryght so am I, brothyr, i-wys, Meche gladder than I kan say. But ȝitt, good brother, I ȝow pray, Telle alle these pepyl what is ȝour name; ffor yf thei knew it, my lyf I lay, They wole ȝow wurchep and speke gret fame. _Secundus detractor._ I am Bakbytere, that spyllyth alle game, Bothe kyd and knowyn in many a place. _Primus detractor._ Be my trowth I seyd the same, And ȝet sum seyden thou xulde have evyl grace. _Secundus detractor._ Herk, Reyse-sclaundyr, canst thou owth telle Of any newe thynge that wrought was late? _Primus detractor._ Within a shorte whyle a thynge befelle, I trowe thou wylt lawhȝ ryght wel therate, ffor be trowth, ryght mekyl hate, If it be wyst, therof wyl growe. _Secundus detractor._ If I may reyse therwith debate, I xal not spare the seyd to sowe. _Primus detractor._ Syr, in the tempyl a mayd ther was, Calde mayd Mary, the trewth to telle; Sche semyd so holy withinne that plas, Men seyd sche was ffedde with holy aungelle. Sche made a vow with man nevyr to melle, But to leve chast and clene virgine; How evyr it be her wombe doth swelle, And is as gret as thinne or myne. _Secundus detractor._ ȝa! that old shrewe Joseph, my trowth I plyght, Was so anameryd upon that mayd, That of hyr bewtyé, whan he had syght, He sesyd nat tylle had here asayd. _Primus detractor._ A! nay, nay, wel wers she hath hym payd, Sum fresche ȝonge galaunt she lovyth wel more, That his leggys to here hath leyd, And that doth greve the old man sore. _Secundus detractor._ Be my trowthe, al may wel be, ffor fresche and fayr she is to syght, And suche a mersyl, as semyth me, Wolde cause a ȝonge man to have delyght. _Primus detractor._ Suche a ȝonge damesel of bewté bryght, And of schap so comely also, Of hire tayle oftetyme be lyght, And rygh tekyl undyr the too. _Secundus detractor._ That olde cokolde was evyl begylyd, To that fresche wenche whan he was wedde; Now muse he faderyn anothyr mannys chylde, And with his swynke he xal be fedde. _Primus detractor._ A ȝonge man may do more chere in bedde To a ȝonge wench, than may an olde; That is the cawse suche lawe is ledde, That many a man is a kokewolde.

_Hic sedet episcopus Abiȝachar inter duos legis doctores, et audientes hanc defamationem vocat ad se detractores, dicens_,

_Episcopus._ Herke ȝe, felaways, why speke ȝe suche schame Of that good virgyn, ffayr mayd Mary; ȝe be acursyd so hire for to defame, She that is of lyff so good and holy. Of hire to speke suche velany, ȝe make myn hert ful hevy of mood; I charge ȝow sese of ȝoure fals cry, ffor sche is sybbe of myn owyn blood. _Secundus detractor._ Syb of thi kyn thow that she be, Alle gret with chylde hire wombe doth swelle; Do calle here hedyr, thiself xal se That it is trewthe that I the telle. _Primus detractor._ Sere, ffor ȝour sake I xal kepe cowncelle. ȝow for to greve I am ryght loth; But lest, seres, lyst what seyth the belle, Oure fayr mayd now gret with childe goth. _Primus doctor legis._ Take good heed, seres, what ȝe doth say, Avyse ȝow wele what ȝe present; ȝyf this be fownd fals, anothyr day Ful sore ȝe xal ȝour tale repent. _Secundus detractor._ Sere, the mayd forsothe is good and gent, Bothe comely and gay, and a fayr wenche; And feetly with help sche can consent To set a cokewolde on the hye benche. _Secundus doctor legis._ ȝe be to besy of ȝour langage, I hope to God ȝow fals to preve; It were gret rewthe she xulde so outrage, Or with suche synne to myscheve. _Episcopus._ This evy talys my hert doth greve, Of hire to here suche fowle dalyawnce; If she be fowndyn in suche repreve, She xal sore rewe here governawns.