Part 27

_Magn._ Alasse, that euer I sholde be so shamed! Alasse, that euer I Magnyfycence was named! Alasse, that euer I was so harde happed, 2010 In mysery and wretchydnesse thus to be lapped! Alasse, that I coude not myselfe no better gyde! Alasse, in my cradell that I had not dyde!

_Pouer._ Ye, syr, ye, leue all this rage, And pray to God your sorowes to asswage: It is foly to grudge agaynst his vysytacyon. With harte contryte make your supplycacyon Vnto your Maker, that made bothe you and me, And, whan it pleaseth God, better may be.

_Magn._ Alasse, I wote not what I sholde pray! 2020

_Pouer._ Rem[e]mbre you better, syr, beware what ye say, For drede ye dysplease the hygh deyte. Put your wyll to his wyll, for surely it is he That may restore you agayne to felycyte, And brynge you agayne out of aduersyte. Therfore pouerte loke pacyently ye take, And remembre he suffered moche more for your sake, Howe be it of all synne he was innocent, And ye haue deserued this punysshment.

_Magn._ Alasse, with colde my lymmes shall be marde! 2030

_Pouer._ Ye, syr, nowe must ye lerne to lye harde, That was wonte to lye on fetherbeddes of downe; Nowe must your fete lye hyer than your crowne: Where you were wonte to haue cawdels for your hede, Nowe must you monche mamockes and lumpes of brede; And where you had chaunges of ryche aray, Nowe lap you in a couerlet full fayne that you may; And where that ye were pomped with what that ye wolde, Nowe must ye suffre bothe hunger and colde: With courtely sylkes ye were wonte to be drawe; 2040 Nowe must ye lerne to lye on the strawe; Your skynne that was wrapped in shertes of Raynes, Nowe must ye be stormy beten[854] with showres and raynes; Your hede that was wonte to be happed moost drowpy and drowsy, Now shal ye be scabbed, scuruy, and lowsy.

_Magn._ Fye on this worlde, full of trechery, That euer noblenesse sholde lyue thus wretchydly!

_Pouer._ Syr, remembre the tourne of Fortunes whele, That wantonly can wynke, and wynche with her hele. Nowe she wyll laughe, forthwith she wyll frowne; 2050 Sodenly set vp, and sodenly pluckyd downe: She dawnsyth varyaunce with mutabylyte; Nowe all in welth, forthwith in pouerte: In her promyse there is no sykernesse; All her delyte is set in doublenesse.

_Magn._ Alas, of Fortune I may well complayne!

_Pouer._ Ye, syr, yesterday wyll not be callyd agayne: But yet, syr, nowe in this case, Take it mekely, and thanke God of his grace; For nowe go I wyll begge for you some mete; 2060 It is foly agaynst God for to plete; I wyll walke nowe with my beggers baggys, And happe you the whyles with these homly raggys.

_Discedendo[855] dicat ista verba._

A, howe my lymmys be lyther and lame! Better it is to begge than to be hangyd with shame; Yet many had leuer hangyd to be, Then for to begge theyr mete for charyte: They thynke it no shame to robbe and stele, Yet were they better to begge a great dele; For by robbynge they rynne to _in manus tuas_ quecke, 2070 But beggynge is better medecyne for the necke; Ye, mary, is it, ye, so mote I goo: A Lorde God, howe the gowte wryngeth me by the too!

_Here MAGNYFYCENCE dolorously maketh his mone._

_Magn._ O feble fortune, O doulfull destyny! O hatefull happe, O carefull cruelte! O syghynge sorowe, O thoughtfull mysere! O rydlesse rewthe, O paynfull pouerte! O dolorous herte, O harde aduersyte! O odyous dystresse, O dedly payne and woo! For worldly shame I wax bothe wanne and bloo. 2080 Where is nowe my welth and my noble estate? Where is nowe my treasure, my landes, and my rent? Where is nowe all my seruauntys that I had here a late? Where is nowe my golde vpon them that I spent? Where is nowe all my ryche abylement? Where is nowe my kynne, my frendys, and my noble blood? Where is nowe all my pleasure and my worldly good? Alasse, my foly! alasse, my wanton wyll! I may no more speke, tyll I haue wept my fyll.

[_Here cometh in LYBERTE._]

_Lyb._ With, ye mary, syrs, thus sholde it be. 2090 I kyst her swete, and she kyssyd me; I daunsed the darlynge on my kne; I garde her gaspe, I garde her gle, With, daunce on the le, the le! I bassed that baby with harte so free; She is the bote of all my bale:[856] A, so, that syghe was farre fet! To loue that louesome I wyll not let; My harte is holly on her set: I plucked her by the patlet; 2100 At my deuyse I with her met; My fansy fayrly on her I set; So merely syngeth the nyghtyngale! In lust and lykynge my name is Lyberte: I am desyred with hyghest and lowest degre; I lyue as me lyst, I lepe out at large; Of erthely thynge I haue no care nor charge; I am presydent of prynces, I prycke them with pryde:[857] What is he lyuynge that lyberte wolde lacke? A thousande pounde with lyberte may holde no tacke; 2110 At lyberte a man may be bolde for to brake; Welthe without lyberte gothe all to wrake. But yet, syrs, hardely one thynge lerne of me: I warne you beware of to moche lyberte, For _totum in toto_ is not worth an hawe; To hardy, or to moche, to free of the dawe; To sober, to sad, to subtell, to wyse; To mery, to mad, to gyglynge, to nyse; To full of fansyes, to lordly, to prowde; To homly, to holy, to lewde, and to lowde; 2120 To flatterynge, to smatterynge, to to out of harre; To claterynge, to chaterynge, to shorte, and to farre; To iettynge, to iaggynge, and to full of iapes; To mockynge, to mowynge, to lyke a iackenapes: Thus _totum in toto_ groweth vp, as ye may se, By meanes of madnesse, and to moche lyberte; For I am a vertue, yf I be well vsed, And I am a vyce where I am abused.

_Magn._ A, woo worthe thé, Lyberte, nowe thou sayst full trewe! That I vsed thé to moche, sore may I rewe. 2130

_Lyb._ What, a very vengeaunce, I say, who is that? What brothell, I say, is yonder bounde in a mat?

_Magn._ I am Magnyfycence, that somtyme thy mayster was.

_Lyb._ What, is the worlde thus come to passe? Cockes armes, syrs, wyll ye not se Howe he is vndone by the meanes of me? For yf Measure had ruled Lyberte as he began, This lurden that here lyeth had ben a noble man. But he abused so his free lyberte, That nowe he hath loste all his felycyte, 2140 Not thorowe largesse of lyberall expence, But by the way of fansy insolence; For lyberalyte is most conuenyent A prynce to vse with all his hole intent, Largely rewardynge them that haue deseruyd, And so shall a noble man nobly be seruyd: But nowe adayes as huksters they hucke and they stycke, And pynche at the payment of a poddynge prycke; A laudable largesse, I tell you, for a lorde, To prate for the patchynge of a pot sharde! 2150 Spare for the spence of a noble, that his honour myght saue, And spende c.s̄. for the pleasure of a knaue! But so longe they[858] rekyn with theyr reasons amysse, That they lose theyr lyberte and all that there is.

_Magn._ Alasse, that euer I occupyed suche abusyon!

_Lyb._ Ye, for nowe it hath brought thé to confusyon: For, where I am occupyed and vsyd wylfully, It can not contynew longe prosperyously; As euydently in retchlesse youth ye may se, Howe many come to myschefe for to moche lyberte; 2160 And some in the worlde theyr brayne is so ydyll, That they set theyr chyldren to rynne on the brydyll, In youth to be wanton and let them haue theyr wyll; And they neuer thryue in theyr age, it shall not gretly skyll: Some fall to foly them selfe for to spyll, And some fall prechynge at the Toure Hyll; Some hath so moche lyberte of one thynge and other, That nother they set by father and mother; Some haue so moche lyberte that they fere no synne, Tyll, as ye se many tymes, they shame all theyr kynne. 2170 I am so lusty to loke on, so freshe, and so fre, That nonnes wyll leue theyr holynes, and ryn after me; Freers with foly I make them so fayne, They cast vp theyr obedyence to cache me agayne, At lyberte to wander and walke ouer all, That lustely they lepe somtyme theyr cloyster wall.

_Hic aliquis buccat in cornu a retro post populum._

Yonder is a horson for me doth rechate: Adewe, syrs, for I thynke leyst that I come to late.[859]

_Magn._ O good Lorde, howe longe shall I indure This mysery, this carefull wrechydnesse? 2180 Of worldly welthe, alasse, who can be sure? In Fortunys frendshyppe there is no stedfastnesse: She hath dyssayuyd me with her doublenesse. For to be wyse all men may lerne of me, In welthe to beware of herde aduersyte.

_Here cometh in CRAFTY CONUEYAUNCE, [and] CLOKED COLUSYON, with a lusty laughter._

_Cr. Con._ Ha, ha, ha! for laughter I am lyke to brast.

_Cl. Col._ Ha, ha, ha! for sporte I am lyke to spewe and cast.

_Cr. Con._ What has thou gotted in faythe to thy share?

_Cl. Col._ In faythe, of his cofers the bottoms are bare.

_Cr. Con._ As for his plate of syluer, and suche trasshe, 2190 I waraunt you, I haue gyuen it a lasshe.

_Cl. Col._ What, then he may drynke out of a stone cruyse?

_Cr. Con._ With, ye, syr, by Jesu that slayne was with Jewes! He may rynse a pycher, for his plate is to wed.

_Cl. Col._ In faythe, and he may dreme on a daggeswane for ony fether bed.

_Cr. Con._ By my trouthe, we haue ryfled hym metely well.

_Cl. Col._ Ye, but thanke me therof euery dele.

_Cr. Con._ Thanke thé therof, in the deuyls date!

_Cl. Col._ Leue thy pratynge, or els I shall lay thé on the pate.

_Cr. Con._ Nay, to wrangle, I warant thé, it is but a stone caste. 2200

_Cl. Col._ By the messe, I shall cleue thy heed to the waste.

_Cr. Con._ Ye, wylte thou clenly cleue[860] me in the clyfte with thy nose?

_Cl. Col._ I shall thrust in thé my dagger—

_Cr. Con._ Thorowe the legge in to the hose.

_Cl. Col._ Nay, horson, here is my gloue; take it vp, and thou dare.

_Cr. Con._ Torde, thou arte good to be a man of warre.

_Cl. Col._ I shall skelpe thé on the skalpe; lo, seest thou that?

_Cr. Con._ What, wylte thou skelpe me? thou dare not loke on a gnat.

_Cl. Col._ By Cockes bones, I shall blysse thé, and thou be to bolde.

_Cr. Con._ Nay, then thou wylte dynge the deuyll, and thou be not holde. 2210

_Cl. Col._ But wottest thou, horson? I rede thé to be wyse.

_Cr. Con._ Nowe I rede thé beware, I haue warned thé twyse.

_Cl. Col._ Why, wenest thou that I forbere thé for thyne owne sake?

_Cr. Con._ Peas, or I shall wrynge thy be in a brake.

_Cl. Col._ Holde thy hande, dawe, of thy dagger, and stynt of thy dyn, Or I shal fawchyn thy flesshe, and scrape thé on the skyn.

_Cr. Con._ Ye, wylte thou, ha[n]gman? I say, thou cauell!

_Cl. Col._ Nay, thou rude rauener, rayne beten iauell!

_Cr. Con._ What, thou Colyn cowarde, knowen and tryde!

_Cl. Col._ Nay, thou false harted dastarde, thou dare not abyde! 2220

_Cr. Con._ And yf there were none to dysplease but thou and I, Thou sholde not scape, horson, but thou sholde dye.

_Cl. Col._ Nay, iche shall wrynge thé, horson, on the wryst.

_Cr. Con._ Mary, I defye thy best and thy worst.

[_Here cometh in COUNTERFET COUNTENAUNCE._[861]]

_C. Count._ What, a very vengeaunce, nede all these wordys? Go together by the heddys, and gyue me your swordys.

_Cl. Col._ So he is the worste brawler that euer was borne.

_Cr. Con._ In fayth, so to suffer thé, it is but a skorne.

_C. Count._ Now let vs be all one, and let vs lyue in rest, For we be, syrs, but a fewe of the best. 2230

_Cl. Col._ By the masse, man, thou shall fynde me resonable.

_Cr. Con._ In faythe, and I wyll be to reason agreable.

_C. Count._ Then truste I to God and the holy rode, Here shalbe not great sheddynge of blode.

_Cl. Col._ By our lakyn, syr, not by my wyll.

_Cr. Con._ By the fayth that I owe to God, and I wyll syt styll.

_C. Count._ Well sayd: but, in fayth, what was your quarell?

_Cl. Col._ Mary, syr, this gentylman called me iauell.

_Cr. Con._ Nay, by Saynt Mary, it was ye called me knaue.

_Cl. Col._ Mary, so vngoodly langage you me gaue. 2240

_C. Count._ A, shall we haue more of this maters yet? Me thynke ye are not gretly acomberyd with wyt.

_Cr. Con._ Goddys fote, I warant you, I am a gentylman borne, And thus to be facyd I thynke it great skorne.

_C. Count._ I can not well tell of your dysposycyons; And ye be a gentylman, ye haue knauys condycyons.

_Cl. Col._ By God, I tell you, I wyll not be out facyd.

_Cr. Con._ By the masse, I warant thé, I wyll not be bracyd.

_C. Count._ Tushe, tushe, it is a great defaute: The one of you is to proude, the other is to haute. 2250 Tell me brefly where vpon ye began.

_Cl. Col._ Mary, syr, he sayd that he was the pratyer man Then I was, in opynynge of lockys; And, I tell you, I dysdayne moche of his mockys.

_Cr. Con._ Thou sawe neuer yet but I dyd my parte, The locke of a caskyt to make to starte.

_C. Count._ Nay, I know well inough ye are bothe well handyd To grope a gardeuyaunce, though it be well bandyd.

_Cl. Col._ I am the better yet in a bowget.

_Cr. Con._ And I the better in a male. 2260

_C. Count._ Tushe, these maters that ye moue are but soppys in ale: Your trymynge and tramynge by me must be tangyd, For, had I not bene, ye bothe had bene hangyd, When we with Magnyfycence goodys made cheuysaunce.

_Magn._ And therfore our Lorde sende you a very wengaunce!

_C. Count._ What begger art thou that thus doth banne and wary?

_Magn._ Ye be the theuys, I say, away my goodys dyd cary.

_Cl. Col._ Cockys bonys, thou begger, what is thy name?

_Magn._ Magnyfycence I was, whom ye haue brought to shame.

_C. Count._ Ye, but trowe you, syrs, that this is he? 2270

_Cr. Con._ Go we nere, and let vs se.

_Cl. Col._ By Cockys bonys, it is the same.

_Magn._ Alasse, alasse, syrs, ye are to blame! I was your mayster, though ye thynke it skorne, And nowe on me ye gaure and sporne.

_C. Count._ Ly styll, ly styll nowe, with yll hayle!

_Cr. Con._ Ye, for thy langage can not thé auayle.

_Cl. Col._ Abyde, syr, abyde, I shall make hym to pysse.[862]

_Magn._ Nowe gyue me somwhat, for God sake I craue!

_Cr. Con._ In faythe, I gyue the four quarters of a knaue. 2280

_C. Count._ In faythe, and I bequethe hym the tothe ake.

_Cl. Col._ And I bequethe hym the bone ake.

_Cr. Con._ And I bequethe hym the gowte and the gyn.

_Cl. Col._ And I bequethe hym sorowe for his syn.

_C. Count._ And I gyue hym Crystys curse, With neuer a peny in his purse.

_Cr. Con._ And I gyue hym the cowghe, the murre, and the pose.

_Cl. Col._ Ye, for _requiem æternam_ groweth forth of his nose: But nowe let vs make mery and good chere.

_C. Count._ And to the tauerne let vs drawe nere. 2290

_Cr. Con._ And from thens to the halfe strete, To get vs there some freshe mete.

_Cl. Col._ Why, is there any store of rawe motton?

_C. Count._ Ye, in faythe, or ellys thou arte to great a glotton.

_Cr. Con._ But they say it is a queysy mete; It wyll stryke a man myscheuously in a hete.

_Cl. Col._ In fay, man, some rybbys of the motton be so ranke, That they wyll fyre one vngracyously in the flanke.

_C. Count._ Ye, and when ye come out of the shoppe, Ye shall be clappyd with a coloppe, 2300 That wyll make you to halt and to hoppe.

_Cr. Con._ Som be wrestyd there that they thynke on it froty dayes, For there be horys there at all assayes.

_Cl. Col._ For the passyon of God, let vs go thyther![863]

_Et cum festinatione discedant a loco._

_Magn._ Alas, myn owne seruauntys to shew me such reproche, Thus to rebuke me, and haue me in dyspyght! So shamfully to me theyr mayster to aproche, That somtyme was a noble prynce of myght! Alasse, to lyue longer I haue no delyght! For to lyue in mysery it is herder than dethe: 2310 I am wery of the worlde, for vnkyndnesse me sleeth.

_Hic intrat DYSPARE._

_Dys._ Dyspare is my name, that aduersyte dothe folowe:[864] In tyme of dystresse I am redy at hande; I make heuy hertys with eyen full holowe; Of faruent charyte I quenche out the bronde; Faythe and goodhope I make asyde to stonde; In Goddys mercy I tell them is but foly to truste; All grace and pyte I lay in the duste. What lyest thou there lyngrynge, lewdly and lothsome? It is to late nowe thy synnys to repent; 2320 Thou hast bene so waywarde, so wranglyng, and so wrothsome, And so fer thou arte behynde of thy rent, And so vngracyously thy dayes thou hast spent, That thou arte not worthy to loke God in the face.

_Magn._ Nay, nay, man, I loke neuer to haue parte of his grace; For I haue so vngracyously my lyfe mysusyd, Though I aske mercy, I must nedys be refusyd.

_Dys._ No, no, for thy synnys be so excedynge farre, So innumerable and so full of dyspyte, And agayne thy Maker thou hast made suche warre, 2330 That thou canst not haue neuer mercy in his syght.

_Magn._ Alasse, my wyckydnesse, that may I wyte! But nowe I se well there is no better rede, But sygh and sorowe, and wysshe my selfe dede.

_Dys._ Ye, ryd thy selfe, rather than this lyfe for to lede; The worlde waxyth wery of thé, thou lyuest to longe.

_Hic intrat MYSCHEFE._

_Mys._ And I, Myschefe, am comyn at nede, Out of thy lyfe thé for to lede: And loke that it be not longe Or that thy selfe thou go honge 2340 With this halter good and stronge; Or ellys with this knyfe cut out a tonge Of thy throte hole, and ryd thé out of payne: Thou arte not the fyrst hymselfe hath slayne. Lo, here is thy knyfe and a halter! and, or we go ferther, Spare not thy selfe, but boldly thé murder.

_Dys._ Ye, haue done at ones without delay.

_Magn._ Shall I my selfe hange with an halter? nay; Nay, rather wyll I chose to ryd me of this lyue In styckynge my selfe with this fayre knyfe. 2350

_Here MAGNYFYCENCE wolde slee hymselfe with a knyfe._

_Mys._[865] Alarum, alarum! to longe we abyde!

_Dys._ Out, harowe, hyll burneth! where shall I me hyde?

_Hic intrat GOODHOPE, fugientibus DYSPAYRE et MYSCHEFE: repente GOODHOPE surripiat illi gladium,[866] et dicat._

_Good._ Alas, dere sone, sore combred is thy mynde, Thyselfe that thou wolde sloo agaynst nature and kynde!

_Magn._ A, blessyd may ye be, syr! what shall I you call?

_Good._ Goodhope, syr, my name is; remedy pryncypall Agaynst all sautes[867] of your goostly foo: Who knoweth me, hymselfe may neuer sloo.

_Magn._ Alas, syr, so I am lapped in aduersyte, That dyspayre well nyghe had myscheued me! 2360 For, had ye riot the soner ben my refuge, Of dampnacyon I had ben drawen in the luge.

_Good._ Vndoubted ye had lost yourselfe eternally: There is no man may synne more mortally Than of wanhope thrughe the vnhappy wayes, By myschefe to breuyate and shorten his dayes: But, my good sonne, lerne from dyspayre to flee, Wynde you from wanhope, and aquaynte you with me. A grete mysaduenture, thy Maker to dysplease, Thyselfe myscheuynge to thyne endlesse dysease! 2370 There was neuer so harde a storme of mysery, But thrughe goodhope there may come remedy.

_Magn._ Your wordes be more sweter than ony precyous narde, They molefy so easely my harte that was so harde; There is no bawme, ne gumme of Arabe, More delectable than your langage to me.

_Good._ Syr, your fesycyan is the grace of God, That you hath punysshed with his sharpe rod. Goodhope, your potecary assygned am I: That Goddes grace hath vexed you sharply, 2380 And payned you with a purgacyon of odyous pouerte, Myxed with bytter alowes of herde aduersyte; Nowe must I make you a lectuary softe, I to mynyster it, you to receyue it ofte, With rubarbe of repentaunce in you for to rest; With drammes of deuocyon your dyet must be drest; With gommes goostly of glad herte and mynde, To thanke God of his sonde, and comforte ye shal fynde. Put fro you presumpcyon and admyt humylyte, And hartely thanke God of your aduersyte; 2390 And loue that Lorde that for your loue was dede, Wounded from the fote to the crowne of the hede: For who loueth God can ayle nothynge but good; He may helpe you, he may mende your mode: Prosperyte to[868] hym is gyuen solacyusly to man, Aduersyte to hym therwith nowe and than; Helthe of body his besynesse to acheue, Dysease and sekenesse his conscyence to dyscryue, Afflyccyon and trouble to proue his pacyence, Contradyccyon to proue his sapyence, 2400 Grace of assystence his measure to declare, Somtyme to fall, another tyme to beware: And nowe ye haue had, syr, a wonderous fall, To lerne you hereafter for to beware withall. Howe say you, syr? can ye these wordys grope?

_Magn._ Ye, syr, nowe am I armyd with goodhope, And sore I repent me of my wylfulnesse: I aske God mercy of my neglygence,[869] Vnder goodhope endurynge euer styll, Me humbly commyttynge vnto Goddys wyll. 2410

_Good._ Then shall you be sone delyuered from dystresse, For nowe I se comynge to youwarde Redresse.

_Hic intrat REDRESSE._

_Red._ Cryst be amonge you and the Holy Goste!

_Good._ He be your conducte, the Lorde of myghtys moste!

_Red._ Syr, is your pacyent any thynge amendyd?

_Good._ Ye, syr, he is sory for that he hath offendyd.

_Red._ How fele you your selfe, my frend? how is your mynde?

_Magn._ A wrechyd man, syr, to my Maker vnkynde.

_Red._ Ye, but haue ye repentyd you with harte contryte?

_Magn._ Syr, the repentaunce I haue, no man can wryte. 2420

_Red._ And haue ye banyshed from you all dyspare?

_Magn._ Ye, holly to goodhope I haue made my repare.

_Good._ Questyonlesse he doth me assure In goodhope alway for to indure.

_Red._ Than stande vp, syr, in Goddys name! And I truste to ratyfye and amende your fame. Goodhope, I pray you with harty affeccyon To sende ouer to me Sad Cyrcumspeccyon.

_Good._ Syr, your requeste shall not be delayed.

_Et exeat._

_Red._ Now surely, Magnyfycence, I am ryght well apayed 2430 Of that I se you nowe in the state of grace; Nowe shall ye be renewyd with solace: Take nowe vpon you this abylyment, And to that I say gyue good aduysement.

_MAGNYFYCENCE accipiat indumentum._

_Magn._ To your requeste I shall be confyrmable.

_Red._ Fyrst,[870] I saye, with mynde fyrme and stable Determyne to amende all your wanton excesse, And be ruled by me, whiche am called Redresse: Redresse my name is, that lytell am I vsed As the worlde requyreth, but rather I am refused: 2440 Redresse sholde be at the rekenynge in euery accompte, And specyally to redresse that were out of ioynte: Full many thynges there be that lacketh redresse, The whiche were to longe nowe to expresse; But redresse is redlesse, and may do no correccyon. Nowe welcome forsoth, Sad Cyrcumspeccyon.

_Here cometh in SAD CYRCUMSPECCYON, sayenge_,

_Sad Cyr._ Syr, after your message I hyed me hyder streyght, For to vnderstande your pleasure and also your mynde.

_Red._ Syr, to accompte you the contynewe of my consayte, Is from aduersyte Magnyfycence to vnbynde. 2450