“ But ȝe me wurchipe ȝe do me wronge,
ffor I am the wurthyest that evyr may be.
Angeli boni. We wurchipe God of myth most stronge,
Whiche hath fformyd bothe us and the,
We may nevyr wurchyp hym to longe,
ffor he is most worthy of magesté.
On knes to God we ffalle.
Oure lorde God wurchyp we,
And in no wyse honowre we the,
A gretter lord may nevyr non be,
Than he that made us alle.
Lucifer. A worthyer lorde forsothe am I,
And worthyer than he evyr wyl I be,
In evydens that I am more wurthy,
I wyl go syttyn in Goddes se. ”

“ Man is comeryd in synne, I crye to thi syght,
Gracyous Lord! Gracyous Lord! Gracyous Lord, come downe!
Virtutes. Lord! plesyth it thin hiȝ domynacion,
On man that thou made to have pyté,
Patryarchys and prophetys han mad supplycacion,
Oure offyse is to presente here prayeres to the.
Aungelys, archaungelys, we thre
That ben in the fyrst ierarchie,
ffor man to thin hy magesté,
Mercy! mercy! mercy! we crye.
The aungel, Lord, thou made so gloryous,
Whos synne hath mad hym a devyl in helle,
He mevyd man to be so contraryous,
Man repentyd, and he in his obstynacye doth dwelle. ”

“ Thou hast spoke to alle tho that ben here,
And not o word thou spekyst to me!
To the Jewys thou art ful kende,
Thou hast forgeve al here mysdede;
And the thef thou hast in mende,
For onys haskyng mercy hefne is his mede.
A! my sovereyn Lord, why whylt thou not speke
To me that am thi modyr in peyn for thi wrong?
A! hert! hert! why whylt thou not breke?
That I were out of this sorwe so stronge! [323]
Jhesus. A! woman, woman, behold ther thi sone!
And thou Jon take her for thi modyr!
I charge the to kepe her as besyly as thou kone,
Thou a clene mayde xal kepe another! ”

“ 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. [123]
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. ”

“ Now blyssyd be oure Lorde and alle his werkys ay!
Alle heffne and erthe mut blysse ȝow for this!
I am so joyful I not what I may say!
Ther can no tounge telle what joye in me is!
I to bere a childe that xal bere alle mannys blyss,
And have myn hosbonde ageyn; ho mythe have joys more? [78]
No creature in erthe is grauntyd more mercy i-wys!
I xal hyȝe me to the ȝate to be ther before. Here goth the aungel aȝen to hefne.
A! blyssyd be our Lord! myn husbond I se.
I xalle on myn knes and to hym-ward crepe.
Joachym. A! gracyous wyff Anne, now frutefull xal he be! ”

“ Be my fadyr I am sent sertayn,
Betwyx God and man an ende to make.
Man for my brother may I not forsake,
Nor shewe hym unkendenesse be no wey;
In peynys for hym my body schal schake,
And for love of man, man xal dey.
Here Jhesus and his discipules go toward the mount of Olyvet; and whan he comyth a lytyl ther besyde, in a place lyche to a park, he byddyt his dyscipules abyde hym ther, and seyth to Petyr or he goth,
Petyr, with thi ffelawys here xalt thou abyde,
And weche tyl I come ageyn;
I must make my prayere here ȝou besyde.
My flesche qwakyth sore for fere and peyn. [281]
Petrus. ”

“ Anna. ȝour swemful wurdys make terys trekyl downe be my face,
I-wys, swete husband, the fawte is in me;
My name is Anne, that is to sey, grace,
We wete not how gracyous God wyl to us be.
A woman xulde bere Cryst, these profecyes have we,
If God send frute and it be a mayd childe;
Withe alle reverens I vow to his magesté,
Sche xal be here foot-mayd to mynyster here most mylde.
Joachym. Now lete be it as God wole, ther is no more,
Tweyn turtelys ffor my sacryfice with me I take;
And I beseche, wyff, and evyr we mete more,
That hese grett mercy us meryer mut make. ”

“ The fyrst degré gostly applyed,
It is holy desyre with God to be,
In trobyl to God I have cryed,
And in sped that lord hath herde me.
Ad Dominum cum tribularer clamavi, et exaudivit me.
The secunde is stody with meke inquysissyon veryly,
How I xal have knowynge of Godys wylle,
To the mownteynes of hefne I have lyfte myn ey,
ffrom qwens xal comyn helpe me tylle.
Levavi oculos meos in montes, unde veniat auxilium mihi.
The thrydde is gladnes in mende in hope to be,
That we xalle be savyd alle thus;
I am glad of these tydynges ben seyd to me,—
Now xal we go into Goddys hous. ”

“ What man of mercy is not tretable,
Whan he askythe mercy he xal not spede.
Mercy to graunt I com indede;
Whoso aske mercy he xal have grace;
Lett no man dowte for his mysdede,
But evyr aske mercy, whyl he hath space.
Scriba. Alas! Alas! oure lawe is lorn!
A! fals ypocryte, Jhesu be name,
That of a sheppherdis dowtir was born,
Wyl breke oure lawe and make it lame.
He wyl us werke ryght mekyl shame,
His fals purpos if he upholde;
Alle oure lawys he dothe defame,
That stynkynge beggere is woundyr bolde.
Phariseus. Sere scrybe, in feyth that ypocryte
Wyl turne this londe al to his lore ”

“ The soule goth than to the grave, and be ryth gret vertu
That body that longe ded hath loyn to lyf aȝen doth ryse.
Than doth Cryst Jhesu onto his modyr sew,
And comfortyth alle here care in temple ther she lyse,
With suche cher and comforth his modyr he doth indew,
That joy it is to here ther speche for to devyse.
And than
Oure lady of hefne so cler,
In herte sche hath ryth glad chere,
Whan here sone thus doth apere,
Here care awey is tan. Secundus vexillator.
In the xxxiiij. pagent xal Maryes thre
Seke Cryst Jhesu in his grave so coolde;
An aungel hem tellyth that aresyn is he ”

“ Of hefne and erthe and alle that beryth lyff,
I am most bound to ȝow, Lord, i-wys,
ffor now I am bothe mayde and wyff.
Now, Lord God, dysspose me to prayour,
That I may sey the holy psalmes of Davyth,
Wheche book is clepyd the Sawtere,
That I may preyse the, my God, therwith.
Of the vertuys therof this is the pygth,
It makyht sowles fayr, that doth it say,
Angelys be steryd to help us therwith,
It lytenyth therkenesse and puttyth develys away.
The song of Psalmus is Goddys dete,
Synne is put awey therby;
It lernyth a man vertuys ful to be,
It feryth mannys herte gostly. ”

“ Now, good fayr lady, what is ther to done?
Tellyth the cause why I am heder sent.
Maria. Swete sone, John, so wylle I anone;
Owre lord God sent to me an aungyl that glent,
And sayde I schulde passe hens where thre were in one,
Tho I askyd the aungel to have you present. [390]
Johannes. A! holy moder, schul ye from us gone?
My brether of this tydyngis sore wyl repent,
That ȝe schuld ben absent.
Ever trybulacyon, Lord, meche thou us sendyst,
Thou oure mayster and oure comfort from us ascendist.
And now oure joye, thy moder, to take thou pretendist,
Thanne alle oure comfort is from us detent. ”

“ Whiche I have sufferyd ffor alle mankynde;
Put thin hool hand into my ryght syde,
And in myn hert blood thin hand that thou wynde.
So ffeythffulle a ffrend were mayst thou fynde?
Be stedfast in feythe, beleve wel in me;
Be thou not dowtefful of me in thi mynde,
But trust that I leve that deed was on a tre.
Thomas. My Lord and my God, with syght do I se
That thou art now qwyk, whiche henge deed on rode;
More feythful than I ther may no man be,
ffor myn hand have I wasche in thi precyous blode. ”

“ Alle thynge that is on grownd I welde at my wylle;
Bothe man and beste, and byrdys, wylde and tame,
Whan that I come them to, with deth I do them kylle.
Erbe, gres, and tres stronge, take hem alle in same;
ȝa, the grete myghty okys with my dent I spylle;
What man that I wrastele with, he xal ryght sone have schame, —
I ȝeve him suche a trepett, he xal evyr more ly stylle,
ffor deth kan no sporte.
Wher I smyte, ther is no grace,
ffor aftere my strook man hath no space
To make amendys ffor his trespace,
But God hym graunt comforte.
Ow! se how prowdely ȝon kaytyff sytt at mete! ”

“ Gracyous Lord, welcome thu be,
Reverens be to the, both God and man!
My poer hous that thou wylt se,
Weche am thi servaunt, as I kan.
Jhesu. There joye of alle joyis to the is sewre!
Symon, I knowe thi trewe intent,
The blysse of hefne thou xalt recure,
This rewarde I xal the grawnt present.
Here Cryst enteryth into the hous with his disciplis and ete the Paschal lomb; and in the mene tyme the cownsel-hous beforn-seyd xal sodeynly onclose, schewyng the buschopys, prestys, and jewgys syttyng in here astat, lyche as it were a convocacyon; Annas seyng thus,
Annas. ”

“ That men xuld me no where se ne knowe;
Iff I be take I am afflyght
In mekyl shame I xal be throwe.
Scriba. Alas! the tyme that this betyd,
Ryght byttyr care doth me embrace!
Alle my synnys be now unhyd,
ȝon man befor me hem alle doth trace.
If I were onys out of this place,
To suffyr deth gret and vengeauns able;
I wyl nevyr come befor his face,
Thow I xulde dye in a stable.
Mulier. Thow I be wurthy ffor my trespas
To suffyr dethe abhomynable,
ȝitt, holy prophete, of ȝour hyȝ grace
In ȝour jugement be mercyable.
I wyl nevyr more be so unstable,
O, holy prophete! graunt me mercy! ”

“ The writer of the sermon against mysteries before quoted is very severe on the performance of so sacred a subject as the present. “In the dayes of ceremonial religion,” says Lambarde, “they used at Wytney to set foorthe yearly in manner of a shew or interlude, the Resurrection of our Lord and Saviour Chryste, partly of purpose to draw thyther some concourse of people that might spend their money in the towne, but chiefly to allure by pleasant spectacle the comon sort to the likinge of Popish maumetrie ”

“ Maria Magdalene dicit Petro et cæteris apostolis,
Bretheryn alle, in herte be glad,
Bothe blythe and joyful in herte ful fayn,
ffor ryght good tydandys have we had
That oure Lord is resyn agayn!
An aungel bade us ryght thus sertayn,
To the, Petyr, that we xulde telle,
How Cryst is resyn, the whiche was slayn,
A lovynge man evyr more to dwelle.
Maria Jacobi. To lyve is resyn ageyn that Lorde,
The qwyche Judas to Jewys solde;
Of this I bere ryght trewe recorde,
By wurdys that the aungel tolde.
Now myrthe and joye to man on molde!
Every man now myrthe may have! ”

“ My flech gynnyth feble be nature.
Hic erit decenter ornatus in lecto.
Petrus. Brether, eche of you a candele takyth nowe rithis,
And lith hem in haste, whil oure moder doth dure,
And bisyli let us wachyn in this virgyne sythis,
That when oure Lord comyth in his sponsed pure,
He may fynde us wakyng and redy wyth oure lithis,
ffor we knowe not the hour of his comyng now sure,
And yn clennesse alle loke ye be redy.
Maria. A! swete sone Jhesu, now mercy I cry,
Over alle synful thy mercy let sprede! [393]
Hic dissendet Dominus cum omni celeste curia, et dicet,
Dominus. ”

“ Noe, seres, my name is knowe,
My wyff and my chyldere here on rowe,
To God we pray with hert ful lowe,
To plese hym in his syght.
In me Noe, the secunde age
Indede begynnyth, as I ȝow say;
Afftyr Adam, withoutyn langage,
The secunde fadyr am I in fay.
But men of levyng be so owtrage,
Bothe be nyght and eke be day,
That lesse than synne the soner swage,
God wyl be vengyd on us sum way,
Indede.
Ther may no man go ther owte,
But synne regnyth in every rowte,
In every place rownde abowte
Cursydnes doth sprynge and sprede. [41]
Uxor Noe. ”

“ With grete throwys whan thei do grone;
God, helpe my wyff that sche not swownde!
I am ful sory sche is alone.
It is not convenient a man to be
Ther women gon in travalynge;
Wherfore sum mydwyff ffayn wold I se,
My wyff to helpe that is so ȝenge.
ȝelomy. Why makyst thou man suche mornyng?
Telle me sumdele of ȝour gret mone.
Joseph. My wyf is now in gret longynge,
Travelyng of chylde, and is alone:
ffor Godys love that sytt in trone,
As ȝe, mydwyvys, that kan ȝour good,
Help my ȝonge spowse in hast anone,—
I drede me sore of that fayr food.
Salome. Be of good chere and of glad mood,
We ij. ”

“ Among this compayné dude ȝe hym se?
ffor Godys love, telle where he is!
Primus doctor. Of oo qwestyone I am bethought,
Alle of ȝour modyr, that blessed may;
In what governauns is she brought?
How is sche rewlyd be nyght and day?
Jhesu. An old man, Joseph, as I ȝow say,
Here weddyd be meracle onto his wyff;
Here for to fede and kepe alway,
And bothyn in clennesse be maydenys olyff.
Secundus doctor. What nede was it here to be wedde
Onto a man of so grett age?
Lesse than thei myght bothe a go to bedde,
And kept the lawe of maryage.
Jhesus. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Sofreynes and frendys, ȝe mut alle be gret with gode;
Grace, love, and charyté evyr be ȝou among;
The maydenys sone preserve ȝou that for man deyd on rode;
He that is o God in personys thre, defende ȝou fro ȝour fon!
Be the leve and soferauns of allemythty God,
We intendyn to procede the matere that we lefte the last ȝere; [290]
Wherefore we beseche ȝow that ȝour wyllys be good,
To kepe the passyon in ȝour mende that xal be shewyd here.
The last ȝere we shewyd here how oure Lord for love of man
Cam to the cety of Jherusalem mekely his deth to take ”

“ Whan thei ther comyn, as I ȝow say,
He is gon ffrom undyr clay,
Than thei wytnesse anoon that day,
He lyth not in his grave. Tertius vexillator.
Onto Mary Mawdelyn as we have bent,
Cryst Jhesu xal than apere,
In the xxxv.ti pagent,
And she wenyth he be a gardenere.
Mary, be name verament,
Whan Cryst here callyth with speche ful clere,
She fallyth to ground with good entent,
To kys his fete with gladsom chere.
But Cryst byddyth here do way,
He byddyth his feet that sche not kys,
Tyl he have styed to hefne blys,
To Crystes dyscyplys Mary i-wys
Than goth the trewthe to say. Primus vexillator. ”

“ Now xal I ryse that am Almyghty,
Tyme is come of reconsyliacion,
My prophetys with prayers have made supplicacion,
My contryte creaturys crye alle for comforte, [107]
Alle myn aungellys in hefne, withowte cessacion,
They crye that grace to man myght exorte.
Veritas. Lord, I am thi dowtere, Trewthe,
Thou wilt se I be not lore,
Thyn unkynde creatures to save were rewthe,
The offens of man hath grevyd the sore.
Whan Adam had synnyd, thou seydest yore,
That he xulde deye and go to helle,
And now to blysse hym to restore,
Twey contraryes mow not togedyr dwelle. ”

“ Ow, I know weyl I have offendyd my God in Trinyté,
Spekyng to my spowse these unkynde wurdys;
ffor now I beleve wel it may non other be,
But that my spowse beryght the kyngys son of blys;
He help us now at oure nede!
Of the kynrede of Jesse worthely were ȝe bore,
Kynges and patryarkys ȝow beffore,
Alle these wurthy of ȝour kynred wore,
As clerkys in story rede.
Maria. Now, gramercy, husbond, for ȝour report!
In oure weys wysely late us forth wende;
The fadyr allemyghty he be oure comfort!
The Holy Gost gloryous he be oure frende!
Joseph. Heyl, wurchepful sere, and good day! ”

“ Alle my lewde lyff I xal doun lete,
And ffonde to be Goddys trewe servaunt.
Jhesus. What man of synne be repentaunt,
Of God if he wyl mercy crave,
God of mercy is so habundawnt,
That what man haske it he xal it have.
Whan man is contrite, and hath wonne grace,
God wele not kepe olde wrethe in mynde,
But bettyr love to hem he has,
Very contryte whan he them fynde.
Now God, that dyed ffor alle mankende,
Save alle these pepyl, both nyght and day!
And of oure synnys he us unbynde,
Hyȝe Lorde of hevyn, that best may! Amen.
[223]
XXIV. LAZARUS.
Hic incipit de suscitatione Laȝari. ”

“ 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. ”

“ To servyn God in Trinyté.
Joachym. A! mercyfful Lord, what is this lyff?
What have I do, Lorde, to have this blame?
ffor hevynes I dare not go hom to my wyff,
And amonge my neybores I dare not abyde ffor shame.
A Anne! Anne! Anne! al oure joye is turnyd to grame,
ffrom ȝour blyssyd ffelacheppe I am now exilyd,
And ȝe here onys of this ffowle fame,
Sorwe wyl sle ȝow to se me thus revylyd.
But son God soferyth thys us must sofron nede,
Now wyl I go to my shepherdys and with hem abyde,
And ther evyrmore levyn in sorwe and in drede,
Shame makyth many man his hed for to hyde. ”

“ Mekel sorwe in hert I leed,
Whan thou were leyd in dethis beed,
But now my blysse is newly breed,—
Alle men may joye this syght.
Jhesus. Alle this werlde that was forlorn,
Shal wurchepe ȝou bothe evyn and morn,
ffor had I not of ȝow be born,
Man had be lost in helle.
I was deed, and lyff I have,
And thorwe my dethe man do I save,
ffor now I am resyn out of my grave,
In hevyn man xal now dwelle.
Maria. A, dere sone! these wurdys ben goode,
Thou hast wel comfortyd my mornyng moode
Blyssyd be thi precyous bloode,
That mankende thus doth save!
Jhesus. Now, dere modyr, my leve I take ”