the surviving pageants of the true Coventry cycle

Only two pageants survive of the famous Corpus Christi cycle once performed every year on the streets of Coventry — a cycle so celebrated in its own day that the boy William Shakespeare, growing up thirty miles away in Stratford, is widely thought to have seen it or heard of it; his phrase "out-Herods Herod" is generally traced to this cycle's ranting, boasting tyrant, the very Herod who rages through the pageant printed first below. The Shearmen and Taylors' Guild staged the Nativity, the Adoration of the Three Kings, and the Slaughter of the Innocents — the source, in its second and third songs, of the carol still sung every Christmas as the Coventry Carol ("Lully, lulla, thow littell tine child"). The Weavers' Guild staged the Presentation in the Temple and Christ's boyhood disputation with the doctors of the Temple. Nothing else of the Coventry cycle proper is known to survive: no Creation, no Passion, no Judgment — only these two guild pageants, rescued by antiquarian transcription before the manuscripts that held the rest were lost or destroyed.

A caution for readers of this library: the "Ludus Coventriae," shelved elsewhere in this collection, is not actually from Coventry. That cycle — also called the N-Town Plays — acquired the Coventry name by a cataloguing error centuries ago and has no demonstrated connection to the city; it belongs to a different, unidentified East Anglian town. Hardin Craig, the editor of the text below, was still complaining in 1957 that "historians of literature and great libraries still go calmly forward under the impression that Ludus Coventriae and the Coventry plays are one and the same thing." They are not. The two pageants below are the only text that can honestly be called Coventry's own.

The text here follows Hardin Craig's second edition for the Early English Text Society (Extra Series 87, 1902; second edition 1957, reprinted 1967), long the standard scholarly edition. The Shearmen and Taylors' Pageant survives only through Thomas Sharp's 1825 transcript of a manuscript destroyed in an 1879 fire; Craig re-edited it from Sharp, collated against John Matthews Manly's edition. The Weavers' Pageant survives in an actual manuscript — Robert Croo's 1534 revision, owned by the Coventry Clothiers and Broad Weavers' Company — which Craig collated against Sharp's 1836 printing and F. Holthausen's edition. Middle English spelling is preserved exactly as Craig printed it, including his editorial square brackets marking supplied or emended words.

I. The Shearmen and Taylors' Pageant

Re-edited by Hardin Craig from the edition of Thomas Sharp, 1825, and collated with the text of J. M. Manly.

Dramatis Personae

Isaiah as Prologue (ll. 1–46).

In the Annunciation and the Nativity (ll. 47–331): Gabriel, Mary, Joseph, First Angel, First Pastor, Second Pastor, Third Pastor, Second Angel.

In the learned dialogue of the two Prophets (ll. 332–474): First Profeta, Second Profeta.

In the Adoration of the Kings and the Slaughter of the Innocents (ll. 475–900): Nuncius, Herod, First Rex, Second Rex, Third Rex, Mary, Angelus, First Miles, Second Miles, Joseph, First Woman, Second Woman, Third Woman.

The Sofferent thatt seithe evere seycrette,
He saue you all and make you parfett and stronge,
geve us grace with his marce forto mete!
For now in grett mesere mankynd ys bownd,
The sarpent hathe gevin vs soo mortall a wonde
That no creature ys abull vs forto reyles
Tyll thye right vncion of Jvda dothe seyse.
Then schall moche myrthe and joie in-cresse ;
And the right rote in Isaraell sprynge,
Thatt schall bryng forthe the greyne off whollenes;
And owt of danger he schall vs bryng
In-to thatt reygeon where he ys kyng
Wyche abowe all othur far dothe a-bownde,
And thatt cruell Sathan he schall confownde.
Where-fore I cum here apon this grownde
To comforde eyuere creature off birthe;
For I, Isaye the profet, hathe fownde
Many swete matters whereof we ma make myrth
For, thogh that Adam be demid to deythe
With all his childur, asse Abell and Seythe,
Yett Ecce virgo consepeet,―
Loo, where a reymede schall ryse!
Be-holde, a mayde schall conseyve a childe
And gett vs more grace then eyuer men had,
And hir meydin-[h]od nothing defylid.
Sche ys deputyd to beare the Sun, Almyghte God.
Loo! sufferñtis, now ma you be glad,
For of this meydin all we ma be fayne;
For Adam, that now lyis in sorrois full sade,
Hir gloreose birth schall reydeme hym ageyn
From bondage and thrall.
Now be myrre eyuere moñ
For this dede bryffly in Isaraell schalbe done,
And before the Fathur in trone,
Thatt schall glade vs all.
More of this matter fayne wolde I meve,
But lengur tyme I haue not here for to dwell.
That Lorde that ys marcefull his marce soo in vs ma
preve
For to sawe owre sollis from the darknes of hell;
And to his blys
He vs bryng,
Asse he ys
Bothe lord and kyng,
And schalbe eyuerlastyng,

[Exit Isaiah; enter Gabriel to Mary.]

GABERELL. Hayle, Mare, full of grace!
Owre Lord God ys with the ;
Aboue all wemeñ that eyuer wasse,
Lade, blesside mote thow be!

MARE. All-myght Fathur and King of blys,
From all dysses thou saue me now!
For inwardely my spretis trubbuld ys,
Thatt I am amacid and kno nott how.

GABERELL. Dred the nothyng, meydin, of this;
From heyvin a-bowe hyddur am I sent
Of ambassage from that Kyng of blys
Unto the, lade and virgin reyuerent!
Salutyng the here asse most exselent,
Whose virtu aboue all othur dothe abownde.
Wherefore in the grace schalbe fownde;
For thow schalt conseyve apon this grownd
The Second Persone of God in trone;
He wylbe borne of the alone;
With-owt sin thou schalt hym see.
Thy grace and thi goodnes wyl neyuer be gone,
But eyuer to lyve in virgenete.

MARE. I marvell soore how thatt mabe.
Manis cumpany knev I neyuer yett,
Nor neyuer to do, kast I me,
Whyle thatt owre Lord sendith me my wytt.
GABERELL.
The Wholle Gost in the schall lyght,
And schado thy soll soo with virtu
From the Fathur thatt ys on hyght.
These wordis, turtill, the be full tru.
This chylde that of the schalbe borne.
Ys the Second Persone in Trenete ;
He schall saue that wase forlorne
And the fyndis powar dystroie schall he.
These wordis, lade, full tru the bene,
And furthur, lade, here in thy noone lenage
Be-holde Eylesabeth, thy cosyn clene,
The wyche wasse barren and past all age,
And now with chyld sche hath bene
Syx monethis and more, asse schalbe sene;
Where-for, discomforde the not, Mare!
For to God onpossibull nothyng mabe.

MARE. Now, and yt be thatt Lordis wyll
my bodde to be borne and forto be,
Of hys hy pleysuris forto full-fyll
Asse his one hande-mayde I submyt me.

GABERELL. Now blessid be the tyme sett
That thou wast borne in thy degre!
For now ys the knott surely knytt,
And God conseyvide in Trenete.
Now fare-well, lade off myghtis most!
Vnto the God-hed I the be-teyche.

MARE. Thatt Lorde the gyde in eyuere cost,
And looly he leyde me and be my leyche!

Here the angell departyth, and Joseff cumyth in and seyth:
JOSOFF. Mare, my wyff soo dere,
How doo ye, dame, and whatt chere
Ys with you this tyde?

MARE. Truly, husebonde, I am here
Owre Lordis wyll forto abyde.

JOSOFF. Whatt! I troo thatt we be all schent!
Sey, womon; who hath byn here sith I went,
To rage wyth thee?

MARE. Syr, here was nothur mañ nor mans eyvin,
But only the sond of owre Lorde God in heyvin.

JOSOFF. Sey not soo, womon; for schame, ley be!
Ye be with chyld soo wondurs grett,
For-sothe, this chylde, dame, ys not myne.
Alas, that eyuer with my nynee
I suld see this syght!
Tell me, womon; whose ys this chyld?

MARE. Non but youris, husebond soo myld,
And thatt schalbe seyne, [ywis].

JOSOFF. But myne? allas! alas! why sey ye soo?
Wele-awey! womon, now may I goo,
Be-gyld as many a-nothur ys.

MARE. Na, truly, sir, ye be not be-gylde,
Nor yet with spott of syn I am not defylde;
Trust yt well, huse-bonde.
JosOFF. Huse-bond, in feythe! and that acold!
A weylle-awey, Josoff, as thow ar olde
Lyke a fole now ma I stand
And truse.
But, in feyth, Mare, thou art in syn;
Soo moche ase I haue cheyrischyd the, dame, and
all thi kyn,
Be-hynd my bake to serve me thus!
All olde men, insampull take be me,―
How I am be-gylid here may you see !—
To wed soo yong a chyld.
Now fare-well, Mare, I leyve the here alone,

[Wo] worthe the, dam, and thy warkis ycheone !—
For I woll noo-more be be-gylid
For frynd nor fooe.
Now of this ded I am soo dull,
And off my lyff I am soo full,
No farthur ma I goo.

[Lies down to sleep; to him enters an angel.]
Aryse up, Josoff, and goo whom ageyne
Vnto Mare, thy wyff, that ys soo fre.
I. ANGELL.
To comford hir loke that thow be fayne,
For, Josoff, a cleyne meydin ys schee:
Sche hath conseyvid with-owt any trayne
The Seycond Person in Trenete ;
Jesus schalbe hys name, sarten,
And all thys world sawe schall he;
Be not agast.
JOSOFF.
Now, Lorde, I thanke the with hart full sad,
For of these tythyngis I am soo glad
Thatt all my care awey ys cast;
Wherefore to Mare I woll in hast.

[Returns to Mare.]
Forgeve me, swete wyff, here in this lond!
Marce, Mare! for now I kno
Of youre good gouernance and how yt doth stond.
Thogh thatt I dyd the mys-name,
Marce, Mare! Whyle I leve
Wyll I neyuer, swet wyff, the greve
In ernyst nor in game.
Now, thatt Lord in heyvin, sir, he you forgyve!
And I do for-geve yow in hys name
For euermore.

JOSOFF. Now truly, swete wyff, to you I sey the
And scho my-self, soo full of care;
And I to leyve you, this grett, behynd,—
God wott, the whyle, dame, how you schuld fare.

MARE. Na, hardely, husebond, dred ye nothyng;
For I woll walke with you on the wey.
I trust in God, all-myghte kyng,
To spede right well in owre jurney.

JOSOFF. Now I thanke you, Mare, of youre goodnes
Thatt ye my wordis woll nott blame;
And syth that to Bedlem we schall vs dresse,
Goo we to-gedur in Goddis wholle name.

[They set out and travel a while.]
Now to Bedlem haue we leygis three;
The day ys ny spent, yt drawyth toward nyght;
Fayne at your es, dame, I wold that ye schulde be,
For you groue all werely, yt semyth in my syght.

MARE. God haue marcy, Josoffe, my spowse soo dere;
All profettis herto dothe beyre wyttnes,
The were tyme now draith nere
Thatt my chyld wolbe borne, wyche ys Kyng
of blis.
Vnto sum place, Josoff, hyndly me leyde,
Thatt I moght rest me with grace in this tyde.
The lyght of the Fathur ouer hus both spreyde,
And the grace of my sun with vs here a-byde!
JosorF. Loo! blessid Mare, here schall ye lend,
Cheff chosyn of owre Lorde and cleynist in degre;
And I for help to towne woll I wende.
Ys nott this the best, dame? whatt sey ye?

MARE. God haue marce, Josoff, my huse-bond soo
meke!
And hartely I pra you, goo now fro me.

JOSOFF. Thatt schalbe done in hast, Mare soo swete!
The comford of the Wholle Gost leyve I with
the.
Now to Bedlem streyght woll I wynd
To gett som helpe for Mare soo free.
Sum helpe of weñen God may me send,
Thatt Mare, full off grace, pleysid ma be.

[In another part of the place a shepherd begins to speak.]

I. PASTOR.
Now God, that art in Trenete,
Thow sawe my tellois and me!
For I kno nott wheyre my scheepe nor the be,
Thys nyght yt ys soo colde.
Now ys yt nygh the myddis of the nyght;
These wedurs ar darke and dym of lyght,
Thatt of them can hy haue noo syght,
Standyng here on this wold.
But now to make there hartis lyght,
Now wyll I full right
Stand apon this looe,
And to them cry with all my myght,—

[Two other shepherds appear (in the street).]
on the looe;

II. PASTOR. Hark, Sym, harke! I here owre brother
This ys hys woise, right well I knoo;
There-fore toward hym lett vs goẻ,
I am ryght glad we haue hym fond!
Brothur, where hast thow byn soo long,
And hit ys soo cold this nyght??

I. PASTOR. E! fryndis, ther cam a pyrie of wynd
with a myst suddenly,
Thatt forth off my weyis went I
And grett heyvenes then made I
And wase full sore afryght.
Then forto goo wyst I nott whyddur,
But trawellid on this loo hyddur and thyddur;
I wasse so were of this cold weddur
Thatt nere past wasse my might.

III. PASTOR.
Brethur, now we be past that fryght,
And hit ys far within the nyght,
Full sone woll spryng the day-lyght,
Hit drawith full nere the tyde.

Here awhyle lett vs rest,
And repast owreself of the best;
Tyll thatt the sun ryse in the est
Let vs all here abyde.
There the scheppardis drawys furth there meyte and doth
eyte and drynk; and asse the drynk, the fynd the star,
and sey thus:

III. PASTOR. Brethur, loke vp and behold!
Whatt thyng ys yondur thatt schynith soo
bryght?
Asse long ase eyuer I haue wachid my fold,
Yett sawe I neyuer soche a syght
In fyld.
A ha! now ys cum the tyme that old fathurs hath
told,
Thatt in the wynturs nyght soo cold
In whom all profeciys schalbe fullfyld.
A chyld of meydyñ borne be he wold

I. PASTOR. Truth yt ys with-owt naye,
Soo seyd the profett Isaye,
Thatt a chylde schuld be borne of a made soo
Or elis in the myddis of the nyght.

II. PASTOR. Loovid be God, most off myght,
That owre grace ys to see thatt syght;
Pray we to hym, ase hit ys right,
Yff thatt his wyll yt be,
Thatt we ma haue knoleyge of this syngnefocacion
And why hit aperith on this fassion;
And eyuer to hym lett vs geve lawdacion,
In yerthe whyle thatt we be.
There the angelis syng "Glorca in exselsis Deo."

III. PASTOR. Harke! the syng abowe in the clowdis
neyuer of soo myrre a quere.
I. PASTOR. Brothur, myrth and solas ys cum hus
Goddis Sun ys cum, whom we haue lokid for long,
"Glore, glorea in exselsis," that wase
Asse synguefyith thys star that we do see.

II. PASTOR.
ther songe;
How sey ye, fellois, seyd the not thus ?

I. PASTOR. Thatt ys wel seyd; now goo we hence
To worschipe thatt chyld of hy manyffecence,
And that we ma syng in his presence
"Et in tarra pax omynibus."
There the scheppardis syngis "Ase I owt Rodde," and
Josoff seyth:

JOSOFF. Now, Lorde, this noise that I do here,
With this grett solemnete,
There the angellis syng "Gloria in cxsellsis" ageyne.

MARE. A Josoff, husebond, cum heddur anon;
My chylde ys borne that ys Kyng of blys.
JosoFFE. Now welcum to me, the Makar of mon,
With all the omage thatt I con;
Thy swete mothe here woll I kys.

MARE. A! Josoff, husebond, my chyld waxith cold,
And we haue noo fyre to warme hym with.
JosOFF. Now in my narmys I schall hym fold,
Kyng of all kyngis be fyld and be fryth;
He myght haue had bettur, and hym-selfe wold,
Then the breythyng of these bestis to warme
hym with.

MARE. Now, Josoff, my husbond, fet heddur my
chyld,
The Maker off man and hy Kyng of blys.
JosOFF. That schalbe done anon, Mare soo myld,
For the brethyng of these bestis hath warmyd

[hym] well, i-wys.

[Angels appear to the shepherds.]
I. ANGELL. Hyrd-men hynd,
Drede ye nothyng
Off thys star thatt ye do se;
For thys same morne
Godis Sun ys borne
In Bedlem of a meydin fre.

II. ANGELL.
Hy you thyddur in hast;
Yt ys hys wyll ye schall hym see
Lyinge in a crybbe of pore rey paste,
Yett of Davithis lyne cumon ys hee.

[The shepherds approach and worship the Babe.]

I. PASTOR. Hayle, mayde-modur and wyff soo myld!
Asse the angell seyd, soo haue we fonde.
I have nothyng to present with thi chylde
But my pype; hold, hold, take yt in thy hond;
Where-in moche pleysure that I haue fond;
And now, to oonowre thy gloreose byrthe,
Thow schallt yt haue to make the myrthe.

II. PASTOR. Now, hayle be thow, chyld, and thy
dame!
For in a pore loggyn here art thow leyde,
Soo the angell seyde and tolde vs thy name;
Holde, take thow here my hat on thy hedde!
And now off won thyng thow art well sped,
For weddur thow hast noo nede to complayne,
For wynd, ne sun, hayle, snoo and rayne.

III. PASTOR.
Hayle be thow, Lorde ouer watur and
to put on thy
hands!'
For thy cumyng all we ma make myrthe.
Haue here my myttens to pytt on thi hondis,
Othur treysure haue I non to present the with.

MARE. Now, herdmen hynd,
For youre comyng
She will pray
To my chyld schall I prae,
Asse he ys heyvin kyng,
To grant you his blessyng,
And to hys blys that ye may wynd
At your last day.
There the scheppardis syngith ageyne and goth forthe
of the place; and the ij profettis cumyth in and seyth

I. PROFETA.
Were hy and defuce vnto the heryng!
Asse scripture tellis,
To you I bryng.

II. PROFETA. Now hartely, sir, I desyre to knoo,
Yff hytt wolde pleyse you forto schoo,
Of whatt maner a thyng.

I. PROFETA. Were mystecall vnto youre heryng,Of the natevete off a kyng.

II. PROFETA. Of a kyng? Whence schuld he cum?
I. PROFETA. From thatt reygend ryall and
mighty mancion,
The sede seylesteall and heyvinly vysedome,
The Seycond Person and Godis one Sun,
For owre sake now ys man be-cum.
In-to a virgin clere,
Sche on-defyld;
Owre frayle nature
Ys now begilde.

II. PROFETA. Why, hath sche a chyld?

I. PROFETA. E! trust hyt well;
ys sche a mayde evin asse sche wasse,
And hir sun the king of Isaraell.

II. PROFETA. A wondur-full marvell
How thatt ma be,
All owre capasete :
How thatt the Trenete,
Of soo hy regallete,
Schuld jonyd be
Vnto owre mortallete !

I. PROFETA.
Of his one grett marce,
Reydemyd schalbe owt of perdyssion.
Syth mañ did offend,
Who schuld amend
But the seyd moñ and no nothur?
For the wyche cawse he
Incarnate wold be
And lyve in mesere asse manis one brothur.

II. PROFETA. Syr, vnto the Deyite,
I beleve parfettle,
Onpossibull to be there ys nothyng;
How be yt this warke
Vnto me ys darke
In the opperacion or wyrkyng.
Whatt more reypriff

I. PROFETA.
Ys vnto belyff
Then to be dowtyng

II. PROFETA. Yet dowtis oftymis hathe derevacion.

I. PROFETA. Thatt ys be the meynes of comenecacion
Of trawthis to haue a dev probacion
Be the same dowts reysoning.

II. PROFETA. Then to you this won thyng:
Of whatt nobull and hy lenage ys schee
Thatt myght this verabull princis modur be?

I. PROFETA. Ondowtid sche ys cum of hy parrage,
Of the howse of Davith and Salamon the sage ;
And won off the same lyne joynid to hir be mareage;

II. PROFETA. And why in thatt wysse?
I. PROFETA. For yt wasse the gysse
To conte the parant on the manys lyne,
And nott on the feymyne,
Amonst vs here in Isaraell.

II. PROFETA. Yett can I nott aspy be noo wysse
How thys chylde borne schuldbe with-ow[t] naturis
prejudyse.
I. PROFETA. Nay, no prej vdyse vnto nature, I dare
well sey;
For the kyng of nature may
Hawe all at his one wyll.

II. PROFETA. Truth yt ys in-ded.

I. PROFETA. Then loke you and rede.
A! I perseyve the sede

II. PROFETA.
Where apon thatt you spake.
Yt wasse for owre nede
That he frayle nature did take,
And his blod he schuld schede
Amens forto make
For owre transegression;
Ase yt ys seyd in profece
That of the lyne of Jude
Schuld spryng a right Messe,
Be whom all wee
Schall haue reydemcion.

I. PROFETA.
Sir, now ys the tyme cum,
And the date there-of run,

II. PROFETA. Yett I beseke you
ye wold schoo me how
Thatt this strange nowelte
Were broght vnto you.

I. PROFETA. This othur nyght soo cold
Hereby apon a wolde
Scheppardis wachyng there fold,
In the nyght soo far
To them aperid a star,
And eyuer yt drev them nar;

II. PROFETA. Whatt, seycretly?

I. PROFETA. Na, na, hardely;
Ase eyuer the cowde
Presyng the kyng of Isaraell.

II. PROFETA. Yett do I marvell
In whatt pyle or castell
These herdmen dyd hym see.

I. PROFETA. Nothur in hallis nor yett in bowris
Born wold he not be,
Nother in castellis nor yet in towris
That semly were to se;
But att hys Fathurs wyll,
Jesus, this kyng, borne he was.
Heyvin he bryng us tyll!

II. PROFETA.
Sir, a! but when these scheppardis
had seyne hym there,
In-to whatt place did the repeyre?
Going the did syng;

I. PROFETA. Forthe the went and glad the were,
With myrthe and solas the made good chere
For joie of that new tything;
And aftur, asse I hard the[m] tell,
He reywardid them full well :
He graunt them hevyn ther-in to dwell;
!
In ar the gon with joie and myrthe,
And there songe hit ys "Neowell."
There the profettis gothe furthe and Erod cumyth in, and the messenger.

NONCEOSE. Faytes pais, dñyis, baronys de grande reynowne!
Payis, seneoris, schevaleris de nooble posance!
Pays, gentis homos, companeonys petis egrance!
Je vos command dugard treytus sylance.
Payis, tanque vottur nooble Roie syre ese presance!
Que nollis persone ese non fawis perwynt dedfferance,
Nese harde de frappas; mayis gardus to to-paceance,―
voter seneor to cor reyuerance;
Mayis gardus Car elat vottur Roie to to puysance."
Anoñ de leo, pase tos! je vose cummande,
E lay Roie erott la grandeaboly vos vmport.

ERODE. Qui statis in Jude et Rex Iseraell,
And the myghttyst conquero[u]re that eyuer walkid on grownd;
For I am evyn he thatt made bothe hevin and hell,
And of my myghte powar holdith vp this world rownd.
Magog and Madroke, bothe the[m] did I confownde,
And with this bryght bronde there bonis I brak on-sunder,
Thatt all the wyde worlde on those rappis did wonder.

I am the cawse of this grett lyght and thunder;
Ytt ys throgh my fure that the soche noyse dothe
make.
My feyrefull contenance the clowdis so doth incumbur
That oftymis for drede ther-of the verre yerth
doth quake.
Loke, when I with males this bryght brond doth
schake,
All the whole world from the north to the sowthe
I ma them dystroie with won worde of my mowthe!
To reycownt vnto you myn innevmerabull substance,
Thatt were to moche for any tong to tell;
For all the whole Orent ys under myn obbeydeance,
And prynce am I of purgatorre and cheff capten
of hell;
And those tyraneos trayturs be force ma I compell
Myne eñmyis to vanquese and evyn to dust them
dryve,
And with a twynke of myn iec not won to be lafte
Bryghtur then the sun in the meddis of the dey.
Where can you haue a more grettur succur
Then to behold my person that ys soo gaye?
My fawcun and my fassion, with my gorgis araye,—
He thatt had the grace all-wey ther-on to thynke,
Lyve the myght all-wey with-owt othur meyte or
drynke.
And thys my tryomfande fame most hylist dothe abownde
Throgh-owt this world in all reygeons abrod,
He resembles Reysemelyng the fauer of thatt most myght Mahownd;
From Jubytor be desent and cosyn to the grett
And namyd the most reydowndid kyng Eyrodde,
Wyche thatt all pryncis hath under subjeccion
And all there whole powar vndur my proteccion.
And therefore, my hareode here, callid Calcas,
t
Warne thow eyuere porte thatt noo schyppis
Nor also aleond stranger throg my realme pas,
But the for there truage do pay markis fyve.
Now spede the forth hastele,
For the thatt wyll the contrare
Apon a galowse hangid schalbe,
And, be Mahownde, of me the gett noo grace!
NONCIOS.
Now, lord and mastur, in all the hast
Thy worethe wyll ytt schall be wroght,
And thy ryall cuntreyis schalbe past
In asse schort tyme ase can be thoght.
ERODE.
Now schall owre regeons throgh-owt be soght
In eyuere place bothe est and west;
Yff any katyffis to me be broght,
Yt schalbe nothyng for there best.
And the whyle thatt I do resst,
Trompettis, viallis, and othur armone
Schall bles the wakyng of my maieste.

Here Erod goth awey and the iij kyngis speykyth in the
strete.

I. REX. Now blessid be God of his swet sonde,
For yondur a feyre bryght star I do see!
ys he comon, vs a-monge,
Now
Asse the profet seyd thatt yt schuld be.
A seyd there schuld a babe be borne,
Comyng of the rote of Jesse,
To sawe mankynd that wasse for-lorne;
And truly comen now ys he.
Reyuerence and worschip to hym woll I do
Asse God and man, thatt all made of noght.
All the profettis acordid and seyd evyn soo,
That with hys presseos blod mankynd schuld be
And in-to thatt place
Bryng me
Thatt I ma hym worschipe with umellete
And se hys gloreose face.

II. REX. Owt of my wey I deme thatt I am,
For toocuns of thys cuntrey can I non see;
Now, God, thatt on yorth madist man,
Send me sum knoleyge where thatt I be!
Yondur, me thynke, a feyre, bryght star I see,
The wyche be-tocunyth the byrth of a chyld
Thatt hedur ys cum to make man fre;
He borne of a mayde, and sche nothyng defyld.
To worschip thatt chyld ys myn in-tent;
Forth now wyll I take my wey.
I trust sum cumpany God hathe me sent,
For yonder I se a kyng labur on the wey;
To-warde hym now woll I ryde.
Harke! cumly kyng, I you pray,
In-to whatt cost wyll ye thys tyde,
I. REX. To seke a chylde ys myne in-tent
Of whom the profetis hathe ment;
The tyme ys cum, now ys he sent,
Be yondur star here ma [you] see.

II. REX. Sir, I prey you, with your lysence,
To ryde with you vnto his presence;
To hym wyll I offur frank-in-sence,
For the hed of all Whole Churche schall he be.

III. REX. I ryde wanderyng in veyis wyde,
Ouer montens and dalis; I wot not where I am.
Now, Kyng off all kyngis, send me soche gyde
Thatt I myght haue knoleyge of thys cuntreys
A! yondur I se a syght, be-semyng all afar,
The wyche be-tocuns sum nevis, ase I troo;
Asse me thynke, a chyld peryng in a stare."
I trust he be cum that schall defend vs from woo.
And to them woll I ryde
To kyngis yondur I see,
Forto haue there cumpane;
I trust the wyll me abyde.
Hayle, cumly kyngis augent !
Good surs, I pray you, whedder ar ye ment?

I. REX. To seke a chylde ys owre in-tent,
Wyche be-tocuns yonder star, asse ye ma see.
To hym I purpose thys present.

II. REX.

III. REX. Surs, I pray you, and thatt ryght
vmblee,
With you thatt I ma ryde in cumpane.

[ALL] To all-myghite God now prey we
Thatt hys pressiose persone we ma se.

Here Erode cumyth in ageyne and the messengere seyth:

NUNCIOS. Hayle, lorde most off myght!
Thy commandement ys right;
In-to thy land ys comyn this nyght
iij kyngis and with them a grett cumpany.

EROD. Whatt make those kyngis in this cuntrey?

NONCIOS. To seke a kyng and a chyld, the sey...
Of whatt age schuld he bee?
ERODE.
NONCIOS.

EROD. And wasse he soo late borne?

NONCIOS. E! syr, soo the schode me, thys same dey
in the morne.

EROD. Now, in payne of deyth, bryng them me
beforne;
And there-fore, harrode, now hy the in hast,
In all spede thatt thow were dyght
Or thatt those kyngis the cuntrey be past;
Loke thow bryng them all iij before my syght;
And in Jerusalem inquere more of that chyld.
But I warne the that thy wordis be mylde,
For there must thow hede and crafte wey[lde]
How to for-do his powere; and those iij kyngis shalbe
begild.

NONCIOS. Lorde, I am redde att youre byddyng
To sarve the ase my lord and kyng;
For joye there-of, loo, how I spryng
With lyght hart and fresche gamboldyng
Alofte here on this molde !

ERODE. Then sped the forthe hastely,
And loke that thow beyre the eyvinly;
And also I pray the hartely
Thatt thow doo comand me
Bothe to yong and olde.

[The messenger goes to the kings.]
NUNCIOS.
Hayle, syr kyngis, in youre degre;
Erood, kyng of these cuntreyis wyde,
Desyrith to speyke with you all thre,
And for youre comyng he dothe abyde.
I. REX. Syr, att his wyll we be ryght bayne.
Hy us, brethur, vnto thatt lordis place;
To speyke with hym we wold be fayne;
Thatt chyld thatt we seke, he grant us of his
grace!

[They go to Herod.]

NUNCIOS. Hayle, lorde with-owt pere!
These iij kyngis here have we broght.

ERODE. Now welcum, syr kyngis, all in fere;
But of my bryght ble, surs, bassche ye noght!
Sir kyngis, ase I vndurstand,
A star hathe gydid you into my land,
Where-in grett harie ye haue fonde
Wherefore I pray you hartely
The vere truthe thatt ye wold sertefy,
How long yt ys surely
Syn of that star you had furst syght.
I. REX. Sir kynge, the vere truthe to sey
And forto schoo you ase hit ys best,
This same ys evin the xijth dey
Syth yt aperid to vs to be west.

ERODE. Brethur, then ys there no more to sey,
But with hart and wyll kepe ye your jurney
And cum whom by me this same wey,
You schall tryomfe in this cuntre
Of your nevis thatt I myght knoo.
And with grett conquorde bankett with me,
And thatt chyld myself then woll I see
And honor hym also.

II. REX. Sir, youre commandement we woll fullfyll
And humbly abaye owreself there-tyll.
He thatt weldith all thyng at wyll
The redde way hus teyche,
Sir kyng, thatt we ma passe your land in pes!

ERODE. Yes, and walke softely eyvin at your one es;
Youre pase-porte for a C deyis

Here schall you haue of clere cummand,

Here schall you haue be spesschall grante.
Owre reme to labur any weyis

III. REX. Now fare-well, kyng of hy degre,
Humbly of you owre leyve we take.

ERODE. Then adev, sir kyngis all thre;
There ys nothing in this cuntre
But for youre one ye schall yt take.

[Exeunt the three kings.]
Now these iij kyngis are gon on ther wey;
On-wysely and on-wyttely haue the all wroghte.
When the cum ageyne, the schall dy that same dey,
And thus these vyle wreychis to deyth the schalbe
broght,
Soche ys my lykyng.
He that agenst my lawis wyll hold,
Be he kyng or keysar neyuer soo bold,
I schall them cast in-to caris cold
And to deyth I schall them bryng.
There Erode goth his weyis and the iij kyngis cum in

I. REX. O blessid God, moche ys thy myght!
Where ys this star thatt gawe vs lyght?

II. REX. Now knele we downe here in this presence,
Be-sekyng that Lord of hy mangnefecens
That we ma see his hy exsellence
Yff thatt his swet wyll be?

III. REX. Yondur, brothur, I see the star,
Where-by I kno he ys nott far;
Therefore, lordis, goo we nar
There the iij kyngis gois in-to the jesen, to Mare and hir
child.
I. REX. Hayle, Lorde thatt all this worlde hathe
wroght!
Hale, God and man to-gedur in fere !
For thow hast made all thyng of noght,
Albe-yt thatt thow lyist porely here;
A cupe-full [of] golde here I haue the broght,
In toconyng thow art with-out pere.

II. REX. Hayle be thow, Lorde of hy mangnyffecens!
In toconyng of preste[h]od and dyngnete of
offece,
To the I offur a cupe-full off in-sence,
For yt be-hovith the to haue soche sacrefyce.

III. REX. Hayle be thow, Lorde longe lokid fore!
I haue broght the myre for mortalete,
In to-cunyng thow schalt mankynd restore
To lyff be thy deyth apoñ a tre.

MARE. God haue marce, kyngis, of yowre goodnes;
Be the gydyng of the godhed hidder ar ye sent;
The provyssion off my swete sun your weyis whom
reydres,
And gostely rey warde you for youre present!
I. REX.

[As the kings go away, they say :]
Syr kyngis, aftur owre promes
Whome be Erode I mvst nedis goo.

II. REX. Now truly, brethur, we can noo las,
But I am soo for-wachid I wott not wat to do.

III. REX. Right soo am I; where-fore I you pray,
Lett all vs rest vs awhyle upon this grownd.
I. REX. Brethur, your seying ys right well vnto my
pay.
The grace of thatt swet chylde saue vs all sownde!

[They lie down, and while they sleep, an angel appears.]

ANGELLUS. Kyng of Tawrus, Sir Jespar,
Kyng of Arraby, Sir Balthasar,
Melchor, Kyng of Aginare,
For drede of Eyrode, goo you west whom;
In-to those parties when ye cum downe,
Ye schalbe byrrid with gret reynowne;
The Wholle Gost thys knoleyge hath sent. [Exit.]

I. REX. Awake, sir kyngis, I you praye,
For the voise of an angell I hard in my dreyme.

II. REX. Thatt ys full tru thatt ye do sey,
For he reyherssid owre names playne.

III. REX. He bad thatt we schuld goo downe be west
For drede of Eyrodis fawls be-traye.
I. REX. Soo forto do, yt ys the best;
The Child that we haue soght, gyde vs the wey!
Now fare-well, the feyrist of schapp so swete!
And thankid be Jesus of his sonde,
Thatt we iij to-geder soo suddenly schuld mete,
Thatt dwell soo wyde and in straunge lond,
And here make owre presentacion
Vnto this kyngis son clensid soo cleyne
And to his moder for ovre saluacion;
Of moche myrth now ma we meyne,
Thatt we soo well hath done this obblacion.

II. REX. Now farewell, Sir Jaspar, brothur, to yoeu,
Kyng of Tawrus the most worthe;
Sir Balthasar, also to you I bow;
And I thanke you bothe of youre good cumpany
Thatt we togeddur haue had.
He thatt made vs to mete on hyll,
I thanke hym now and eyuer I wyll,
For now may we goo with-owt yll,
And off owre offerynge be full glad.
III. REX. Now syth thatt we mvst nedly goo
For drede of Erode thatt ys soo wrothe,
Now fare-well brothur, and brothur also,
Now he thatt made vs to mete on playne
And offur to Mare in hir jeseyne,
He geve vs grace in heyvin a-gayne

[They go out, and Herod and his train occupy the pagcant.]
NUNCIOS. Hayle, kynge, most worthist in wede!
Hayle, manteinar of curtese throgh all this world
Hayle, the most myghtyst that eyuer bestrod a stede!
Ha[y]ll, most monfullist moñ in armor man to
abyde!
Hayle, in thyne hoonowre!
Thesse iij kyngis that forthe were sent
And schuld haue cum ageyne before the here
Contrare to thyn honowre.

ERODE. A-nothur wey? owt! owt! owtt!
Hath those fawls traytvrs done me this ded?
I stampe! I stare! I loke all abowtt!
Myght I them take, I schuld them bren at a glede!
I rent! I rawe! and now run I wode !
A! thatt these velen trayturs hath mard this my mode!
The schalbe hangid yf I ma cum them to!

Here Erode ragis in the pagond and in the strete also.
E! and thatt kerne of Bedlem, he schalbe ded
And thus schall I for-do his profece.
How sey you, sir knyghtis? ys not this the best red,
Thatt all yong chyldur for this schuld be dede,
Wyth sworde to be slayne?
Then schall I, Erod, lyve in lede,
And offur to me bothe gold, rychesse, and mede;
Thereto wyll the be full fayne.
I. MYLES. My lorde, kyng Erode be name,
Thy wordis agenst my wyll schalbe ;
To see soo many yong chylder dy ys schame,
Therefore consell ther-to gettis thou non of me.

II. MYLES. Well seyd, fello, my trawth I plyght.
Sir kyng, perseyve right well you may,
Soo grett a morder to see of yong frute
Wyll make a rysyng in thi noone cuntrey.

ERODE. A rysyng! Owt! owt! owt!
There Erode ragis ageyne and then seyth thus:
Owt! velen wrychis, har apon you I cry!
My wyll vtturly loke that yt be wroght,
Or apon a gallowse bothe you schall dy,
Be Mahownde most myghtyste, that me dere
hath boght!

I. MYLES.
dede!
Now, cruell Erode, syth we schall do this
Your wyll nedefully in this realme mvste be wroght;
All the chylder of that age dy the mvst nede;
Now with all my myght the schall be vpsoght.

II. MYLES. And I woll sweyre here apon your bryght
sworde,
All the chylder thatt I fynd, sclayne the schalbe ;
Thatt make many a moder to wepe and be full sore
aferde
In owre armor bryght when the hus see.
ERODE.
Now you have sworne, forth that ye goo,
And my wyll thatt ye wyrke bothe be dey and
nyght,
And then wyll I for fayne trypp lyke a doo.
But whan the be ded I warne you bryng ham

[Herod and his train go away, and Joseph and Mary are,
while asleep, addressed by an angel.]
ANGELLUS.
Mare and Josoff, to you I sey,
Swete word from the Fathur I bryng you full
ryght:
Owt of Bedlem in-to Eygype forth goo ye the wey
And with you take the King, full of myght,
For drede of Eroddis rede!

JOSOFF. A-ryse up, Mare, hastely and sone;
Owre Lordis wyll nedys mvst be done,
Lyke ase the angell vs bad.

MARE. Mekely, Josoff, my none spowse,
Towarde that cuntrey let vs reypeyre;
Att Eygyp to sum cun off howse,
God grant hus grace saff to cum there!

Here the wemen cum in wythe there chyldur, syngyngs
them; and Mare and Josoff goth awcy cleyne.

I. WOMON. I lolle my chylde wondursly swete,
And in my narmis I do hyt kepe,
Be-cawse thatt yt schuld not crye.

II. WOMAN. Thatt babe thatt ys borne in Bedlem,
so meke,
He saue my chyld and me from velany!

III. WOMAN. Be styll, be styll, my lyttull chylde!
That Lorde of lordis saue bothe the and me!
For Erode hath sworne with wordis wyld
Thatt all yong chyldur sclayne the schalbe.
I. MYLES. Sey ye, wyddurde wyvis, whydder ar ye
a-wey!
What beyre you in youre armis nedis mvst we se.
Yff the be mañ-chyldur, dy the mvst this dey,
For at Eroddis wyll all thyng mvst be.

II. MYLES. And I in handis wonys them hent,
Them forto sley noght woll I spare ;
We must full-fyll Erodis commandement,
Elis be we asse trayturs and cast all in care.

I. WOMAN. Sir knyghtis, of youre curtessee,
Thys dey schame not youre chevaldre,
For a sympull sclaghtur yt were to sloo
Or to wyrke soche a chyld woo,
That can noder speyke nor goo,
Nor neuer harme did.

II. WOMON. He thatt sleyis my chyld in syght,
Yff thatt my strokis on hym ma lyght,
Be he skwyar or knyght,
I hold hym but lost.
Se, thow fawls losyngere,
A stroke schalt thow beyre me here
And spare for no cost.

III. WOMAN. Sytt he neyuer soo hy in saddull,
But I schall make his braynis addull,
And here with my pott-ladull
With hym woll I fyght.
I schall ley on hym, a[s] thogh I wode were,
With thys same womanly geyre;
There schall noo man steyre,
Wheddur thatt he be kyng or knyght.
I. MYLES.

[Here they kill the children.]
Who hard eyuer soche a cry
Of wemen thatt there chyldur haue lost,
And grettly rey bukyng chewaldry
Throgh-owt this reme in eyuere cost,
Wyche many a mans lyff ys lyke to cost?
For thys grett wreyche that here ys done
I feyre moche wengance ther-off woll cum.

II. MYLES. E! brothur, soche talis may we not tell;
Where-fore to the kyng lett vs goo,
For he ys lyke to beyre the perell,
Wyche wasse the cawser that we did soo.
Yett must the all be broght hym to
With waynis and waggyns fully fryght;
I tro there wolbe a carefull syght, [They go to Herod.]

I. MYLES. Loo! Eyrode, kyng, here mast thow see
How many M' thatt we haue slayne.

II. MYLES. And nedis thy wyll full-fyllid must be;
There ma no mon sey there-ageyne.

[Enter Nuntius.]

NUNCIOS. Eyrode, kyng, I schall the tell,
All thy dedis ys cum to noght;
This chyld ys gone in-to Eygipte to dwell.
Loo! sir, in thy none land what wondurs byn
wroght!

EROD. Into Eygipte? alas, for woo!
Lengur in lande here I canot abyde;
Saddull my palfrey, for in hast wyll I goo,
Aftur yondur trayturs now wyll I ryde,
In-to Eygipte in hast!
All thatt cuntrey woll I tast,
Tyll I ma cum them to.
Fynes lude de taylars and scharmen.
Tys matter/nevly correcte be Robart Croo / the
xiiijth dey of marche / fenysschid in the yere of owre Lorde
God/M CCCCC & xxxiiijte. / then beyng mayre mastur
Palmar also mastris of the seyd fellyschipp Hev Corbett / Randull Pynkard and / John Baggeley.
Theise songes / belonge to the Taylors and Shearemens
Pagant. The first and the laste the shepheards singe | and the
second or middlemost the women singe.

THOMAS MAWDYCKE
Die decimo tertio Maij anno domini millessimo quingentesimo nonagesimo primo. Praetor fuit ciuitatis
Couentriæ D. Mathaeus Richardson, tunc Consules /
Johanes Whitehead et Thomas Grauener.

SONG I.
As I out rode this enderes night,
Of thre ioli sheppardes I saw a sight,
And all a-bowte there fold a star shone bright;
They sange terli terlow;
So mereli the sheppards ther pipes can blow.

SONG II.
Lully, lulla, thow littell tine child,
By by, lully lullay, thow littell tyne child,
By by, lully lullay!
O sisters too,
How may we do
For to preserve this day
This pore yongling
For whom we do singe
By by, lully lullay?
Herod, the king,
Chargid he hath this day
His men of might
In his raging,
In his owne sight
All yonge children to slay,―
That wo is me,
Pore child, for thee,
And ever morne and may?
For thi parting
Nether say nor singe,
By by, lully lullay.

SONG III.
Doune from heaven, from heaven so hie,
Of angeles ther came a great companie,
With mirthe and ioy and great solemnitye,
The sange terly terlow;
So mereli the sheppards ther pipes can blow.

II. The Weavers' Pageant

Re-edited by Hardin Craig from the manuscript of Robert Croo, 1534, collated with the edition of Thomas Sharp (1836) and of F. Holthausen.

Dramatis Personae

In the Prophet Play (ll. 1–176): First Profeta, Second Profeta, Third Profeta, Simeon, Anna, First Angel, Second Angel, Clericus (the Clerk), Gabriel, Mary, Joseph.

In the Purification (ll. 177–721): Joseph, Mary, Jesus.

In the Disputation in the Temple (ll. 722–1191): First Doctor, Second Doctor, Third Doctor.

PROFETA PRIMUS. Ye grett astronemars now awake,
With youre famus fatheres of felosefy
And in-to the oreient reyspecte ye take,
Where nevis and strangis be cum of lately,
Affermyng the seyng of old profecie,
Thatt a star schuld apere
Apon the hyll of Wawse among hus here!

II. PROFETA. Ye brethur all, then be of good chere,
For those tythings makyth my hart ful lyght!
We have desirid many a yere
Of thatt star to haue a syght,
And spesschalli of that kyng of myght
Of whose cumyng we haue playne warnyng
Be this same star aftur profettis desernyng.
Lett hus hawe sum comenecacion
Of this star be oldd prognostefying+
Yet furthur, I pra you for my larnyng,
How hit aperid and under whatt fassion.

I. PROFETA. Sir, aftur a strange deformacion
As be atorite reyherse I can;
For this same star be interpretacion
Seying: "Orietur stella ex Jacobo, et exsurget
homo de Israel."
He seyd of Iacobe a star schuld springe,
Wyche syngnefyith only this same kynge
Thatt amongist vs now ys cum.
And as towchyng the letter folloyng:
Et ipse dominabitur omni generacione.

II. PROFETA. Sir, here ma be movid a questeon
Of this nobull prince of soo hi degree,
The wyche of all men schall haue domeneon,
Vndur what maner borne he schuld be.

I. PROFETA. Ase ye schall here right wonderfulle
Be devine powar of a virgene pure,
Afarmyng the profeci agenst all nature.

II. PROFETA. Where fynde you that in wholle scripture
Before prognostefide this to be done?

I. PROFETA. Isaee the profett wrytith full sure,
Ecce virgo concipiet, pariet filium!
Balam seyng of the heyvinly wyssedome

A man schuld spryng here in Isaraell,
The seyd Isayee answeyring to that questeon:
Et vocabitur nomen eius Emanvel.

II. PROFETA.
Yett haue I grett marvell,
How thatt men schuld tell
Off such strangis before the fell,
And man beyng here but a mortall creature.
I. PROFETA. Be devine powar, I make you sure,
The sprete of profece to them was sent,
Soo to subscrybe in wholle scripture,
And yett them-selfe wyst not watt yt ment.

II. PROFETA. Now laude be vnto hym that soche
knoleyge sent
Vnto hus wreychis of pore symplecete.
Where he ys Lord and God omnipotent,
In this hys wyll to make hus preve!

I. PROFETA. Did nott that profett man Malache
Resite vnto hus on this same wyse
Thatt the sun of lyff schall spring and arise?
Wyche cawsid Isaee to cast up his iees
Toward heyvin with all his inward syght,
Seying, "Good Lord, afarmyng thy promes,
Send downe to hus this wonly sun off myght,
Huse to reystore vnto owre right!
Reycomfordyng thi doghtur dwyllyng in Sion!"
Owt of deserte, from the hard stone,
Also Jaramo, thatt wholle moñ,
Seyd in heyvin God schuld make seede,
A greyne off Davith, thatt now ys cum,
Wyche eyuer in gracys shall spring and spreyde
And he schall make jugementis of rightwesenes.

II. PROFETA.
I wondre to here you this
Be actoris hi, this worthe mystere,
expres,
And spesschalle of this virtu rightwessenes,
Where hit schalbe vsid and in whatt parte.

I. PROFETA. Apon the yarthe bothe with hy and loo
degre;
And rightwessenes men schall hym call,
When he schall cum to sit in the see
Of King Davit, that most riall stall;
And ther schall he before the pristis all
Of Juda and Leyve be his powar device,
With nev insence to do sacrefyce.
To God aboue for the grett offence
Of the peple and for yngnorance,
With there offeringe to make reycompence
For the lenage of Adamis progeny.
This schall this childe by theym free
From all the offencis thatt the haue done
Be cruell deyth and bytter passion.

II. PROFETA. Good sir, yett under produstacion
Owre feyth thereby for to incresse,
Of this star lett hus haue reylacion,
How hit aperid and vndur whatt fassion,
Yff hit wold pleyse you for to expresse.

I. PROFETA. With diuers streymis of grett
brightnes,
A child therin of flagrant swetnes,
Wyche apon his bake a crosse did beyre,
And of an eygull hit bare the lykenes,
Beytyng his wyngis into the eyre;
A woise there-in off lange feyre
Thatt wasse hard throgh-owt the cuntrey,
Luke ii. . Seyinge: "Natus est nobis oddie rex Judeorum-et

II. PROFETA. Of a farthur declaracion I wold you praye,
Whatt trybus the were and in whatt parte,
The were date, and whatt maner a wey
They haue made probate of this profece.
I. PROFETA. And thatt schall I scho you right
eyvedently.
The grett lordis of the land of Caldy
Fowndid twelve masturs of asestronemy
For to se this star apere;
And when these masturs were eylecte,
On the hill of Wawse ther wache the kepte

II. PROFETA. And dide the soo longe wache that

I. PROFETA. Ye truly, tyll that hit was this kyngis
will
This seyd profece for to fullfyll,
Thatt strange star to send them till,
Whereof the had intellegence;
That aftur the darkenes of the nyght
In the day hit schone soo bright,
Thatt when the sun and the stare
In the yeyre togeythur warre,
Betwyxt them wasse lyttull or non indyfference.
And soo this stare wasse a serveture
And vnto iij kyngis a playn cundeture

II. PROFETA. But ar you sure for whatt intent?
I. PROFETA. Forsothe to Bedlem streyght the went,
Whereasse the offurd to this childe reuerent
With grett omage a famus present.
The furst wasse gold, as most myghte kyng;
The seycond wasse myr, asse prist of pristis beyng;
The thryd wasse insence, in tokyning of byrring.

II. PROFETA.
Yet wold I kno the cawse spesschally,
Whatt movid these kyngis to cum so hastely,
And whedur the cam oopun or prevy.
I. PROFETA. The star broght them throgh eyuere cuntre;
And eyuer as the cam oopunly,
The dide inquere of those nevis ;
Eyuer the axid, "Where ys he
born King of Thatt ys borne for to be
The kyng of Juys?"
Therefore lett hus with all delegence
Vnto that chyld geve honowre and reyuerence,
And thatt we ma cum vnto his presence
To haue fruyssion of his hi deyit[e].
And, brothur, I thanke you of youre pacyence;
For now att thys tyme departe wyll wee.
Exceat.

II. PROFETA. Now, brothur, for youre swete sentence,

Hathe grett cawse in hym to joie,
Wyche sendyth hus knoleyge the truth to sey;
And he soo meraculosly wyrkyng therwith
Thatt of all seycrettis we wryte the were pyth ;
Wherefore moche cawse haue we to make myrth,
When we reymembur the gloreose birthe
Of this virgyns sun.
He the Seconde Person in the Trenete
Eyquall with his Fathur in deyite
And under the curteyne of owre vmanete,
For hus wold man becum.
Wherefore, here I exsorte you all,
That in this place here asembulde be,
Wyche schall reydeme vs apon a tre.
And thatt gloreose blys thatt we ma see,
Wyche he hathe ordenide for all men
In his selesteall place to be
In secula seculorum, amen!

Here Semeon intrythe and the last profett gothe outt.

SEMEON. The seylesteall Soferent, owre hy Gode
eternall!
Wyche of this mervelus world ys the fowndatur,
And create the hy heyvins his one see emperell
With sun, mone and staris, yorthe, sky and
wattur
And al for the sustenance of owre vmayne nature
With fysche, fowle, best, and eyuere othur thyng,
Vndur hus to haue the naturall cowrs and beyng.
Yett owre formere parence at the begynnyng
Throgh dyssobeydence had a grevose fawll
From the hy pales and blys eyuerlastyng
Downe into this wale off meserabull mvndall;
For the wyche transgression all we ar now
mortall,
Thatt before wasse infynite for eyuer to remayne
And now schall take yend? be deyth and cruell
payne.
Wyche grevoise sorro ofte dothe me constrayne
Inwardly to syghe and byttur teyris to wepe,
Tyll thatt I reymembur the grett comforde ageyne
Of anceant profettis with ther sentens swete,
Whose fructuus syence of profownde larnyng
depe
In there awturs aperith to hus right manefestly,
Of Isaee, Sebbellam, Balam, and Malache.
O Lorde of lordis! In hart beseke I the,
Of this infinite worke to send me the tru lyght,
Truly to expownde this seyde wholle profece;
And also of that kyng that I ma haue a syght,
And that we ma walke in his weyis uppright,
The wyche be reydemcion schall hus all reyles,
At whose cumyng the tru ovncion of Juda schall
seyse.
Now, Lord, fullfyll thatt hy tyme of pes!
For age draith me fast apon.
Fayne wold I see thatt wholle of whollenes,
Or this mortall lyff fro me were gone.
Now, Lorde, ase thow art iij in won,
Grant me grace, yff thatt thy wyl be,
Then at thy wyll, Lorde, fayne wolde I be,
Yff thow soche grace woldist me sende,
To loove the, Lorde, with all vmelyte,
And soo of my lyff then to make an ende!
Yett, Lorde, thi grace to me now extende,
Suffur me rathur yett to lyve in peyne
Then to dy, or thatt I thatt solam syght haue seyne!

Here Ane cumyth in to Semeon and seythe:

ANE. O sufferent Semeon! With all solemnete,
Thatt of owre gloreose tempull hath the gouernance,
With all dev reuerance here beseke I the
This olde frynde in Gode to haue in reymemburance,
The wyche hathe tarrid be a long contenvance
For the comyng of the right Messee,
Wyche hathe byn promysid vnto hus be profece.
O Lorde! thogh that I be nothynge worthe
Yett, Lorde, acsepte me of thi grett marce,
To see the fassion of thi most presseose pyctore,
Asse thy pore serwand and feyth full creature.
To se the, Lorde, yff that I myght be sure,
No lenger on grownd wold I reyquere
In this mortall lyff to contenev here.

SIMEON. O feythefull frynde and louer dere!
To you this text ofte haue I tolde,
That the lyght of Leyve amonge vs here
In Isaraell schuld be boght and sold;
Asse avnceant profettis hereof hathe told,
That in this lande here he schuld make surenes,
And he to be cawlid the Kyng of Pes.
Asse Isaee hymselfe herein to wyttnes,
"In facie populorum," this did he sey,

"Cum venerit sanctus sanctorum cessabit unctio vestra."
And soo when owre ryght blod schall seyse,
Moche virtu and grace then schall incresse
With hy jugementis of rightwessenes
Amongest hus evyn here in Isaraell.

ANE. Yff thatt I myght abyde that dey,
Thatt wholle off wholleis for to see
Wyche thatt I haue desyrid allwey,
In this worlde well were me.
Now, Lord, and yff thy wyll hit be,
Grant me my hoope, longe lokid fore;
Then joie nor welthe kepe I no more.

SIMEON. NOW, Ane, systur and dere frynde,
Lett hus bothe with a whole intent
In thys tru feyth owre lyvis yend,
Lawdyng thatt Lorde wyche ys omnipotent;
Wherefore I thynke hyt full expeydente
In conteniall preyar for to indure,
To kno therby his graceose plesure.

ANE. O sofferent Semeon! Thi famus consell
Inwardely gladyth me in my hart.
No-thyng contentyth my mynd soo well,
Wherefore at this tyme woll we departe.
SIMEON. Now, Ane, syth that ye wol hence nede
Vnto the tempull with all spede
Owre Lordis wyll for to abyde,
That Lord of lordis be thy gyde

And sende the that wyche thow lovist most;
Bothe heyle and bote for the provide,
Where-eyuer thow goo in any cost!
Fryndis, now ys hit tyme to prey.
My custome hathe yt byn alwey,
Of hym to obteyne all my reyquest,
Asse long ase eyuer I am awake,
Intersession vnto that Lorde to make
And then full peysable to take my rest.
Now, Lorde, that madist all thyng of noght,
Both hevyn and hell and eyuere creature,
Asse thow knoist myn inwarde thoghit,
Reycomforde [me] when hit ys thy plesure;
For I do covett no more treysure
Then the tyme of thy natevete
With my mortall yeeis thatt I myght se.
But asse thow wolt, Lorde, all thyng mvst be,
And reysun hit ys thatt hit be soo;
My wyll therto schall eyuer agre.
My wholle desyre now dost thou kno.
Or thatt I vnto slepe do goo,
I commytt my warkis with all the sircumstance
Wholly vnto thy lawis and ordonance.
There Semeon settys hym doune to rest, ase hit were, and
the Angell seythe to hym:

I. ANGELL. Semeon, of thy rest awake;
Owre Lorde in heyvin he sendyth the gretyng
Of my message, with the for to make,
With the, hys frind, a solame metyng;
Hys blessid bode vnto thi kepyng
Within schort tyme schal be broght,

And here in thy tempull thow schalte be soght.

SEMEON. Lorde, whence cam this solam noyse
That awoke me here soo suddenly?
My spretis therwith did soo reyjoyse,
Thatt no lenger slepe cowlde I.
Me-thoght he seyde right perfettly,
Thatt solam Sufferent thatt I schulde see
And haue hym here in my custode.

II. ANGELL. Semeon, thatt Lorde in Trenete
Whom thow hast desirid to see alwey
At thy tempull offurde schal be
Vnto thy honde this same day;
Therfore spede in all thatt thow may,
That the tempull in ordur be
This prynce to reyseyve with all vmelete.

[Exeunt the two angels.]

SIMEON. Now, Lorde of lordis, thankis be to the !
These gloreose tythyngis that here be tolde
In my hart soo gladith me
Thatt I am lyghtar a M folde
Then eyuer I wasse before.
Therefore wyll I with al my myght
To se my tempull soo presseoosly pyght
In gorgis araye thatt hyt be dyght
This prynce for to ownowre.
There Semeon gothe to his Clarks and scyth:
Now, fryndis all, be of good chere,
And to owre tempull draw we nere;
Thatt all my spretis dothe glade.
Thatt babe ys borne of dyngnete
Thatt we soo long hathe desirid to see,
Oure Lord and Kyng most myghte,
Thatt all this world made.

CLARECUS. Now blessid mot that lorde be,
Thatt dey and owre thatt we schall see
His gloreose bodde in Trenete,
Thatt flowre that neuer schall fade!
SEMEON. No lenger, Surs, lett vs abyde,
But to the tempull with all spede
To reyseve the Saueowre of this world wyde
And hym to serve with lowe and drede!
Now, Sirs, loke thatt ye take good hede
To wayte and serve with all delegence,
His grace to ownowre with humble reuerence!

CLARECUS. To serue a prynce of soche magneffecens,
Sir, I wasse neuer wont there-to.
Sythe ye therin hathe more intellegence,
Instructe me, Sir, how that I schuld do,
Lest thatt I do offende;
For rathur then I wolde hym greive,
Thatt Lord on whom I do beleve,Yett had I leyuer my-self reymeve
Vnto the worldis yende.

SEMEON. Sith thatt ye for knoleyge dothe make sute,
Your wyttis the bettur do I reypute.
With humble hartis and meke,
Won of hus must holde the lyght
Ande the othur the sacrefyce;
And I on kneis, asse hyt ys right,
The offece to exsersyse
CLARECUS.
Vnto thatt babe soo swette.
Then hast we this alter to araye
And clothis off onowre theron to laye
Ande the grownde straw we with flowris gay
Thatt of oddur swetely smellis.

SEMEON. And when he aprochis nere this place,
Syng then with me thatt conyng hasse
There Semeon and his Clarks gothe vp to the tempull and
Gaberell cumyth to the tempull dore and seyth: [Mary
and Joseph with the child have occupied the front part
of the pageant.]

GABEREEL. Hayle, Mare, meke and myld!
The virtu in the schall neyuer fade.
Hayle, meydyn, and thy chylde,
Thatt all this world made!
Thy seylesteall Fadur wyche ys omnipotent
Of his ambassaye hethur hathe me sent
Vnto the, lade and virgyn reyuerent,
With thy sun, owre hey viñ Kynge!
Unto the tempull thatt thou schuldist goo,
All iij of them in offeryng.
Spede you forth thatt ye were gone!
But leyve nott ye wold Josoff at whome;
For nedely, lade, he mvste be won
In this sacrefyce doyng.
MARE.
With hart and wyll hit schal be done
In pleysing of that fathur of myght.
Thyddur wyll I bothe hastely and sone
And take [with] me my child soo bryght.
GABERELL.
Then to Josoff goo ye full right,
And make hym preve of this case.
Byd hym hast that he were dyght
To gyd you theddur into that place.
Now rest well, Mare, with moche solas!
For I mvst thiddur asse I cam froo.

[Gabriel goes out.]
MARE.
He thatt ys ande eyuer wasse
Be thy gyde where-euer thow goo,
And send hus all of his grace!
I pray here knelynge hit ma be soo.

[Addresses Jesus.]
Jesus,
She addresses Now, cum heddur to me, my darlyng dere,
My myrthe, my joie, and al my chere!
Swetter then eyuer wasse blossum on brere!
Thy swete mowthe now wyll I kis.
Now, Lorde of lordis, be owre gide,
Where-eyuer we walke in cuntreyis wyde,
And these to turtuls for hus provide
Off them thatt we do nott mys!

Here Mare goth to Josoff and seyis:
Rest well, Josoff, my spouse soo free!

JOSOFF. Now welcum, Mare! Dame, whatt sey yee?

MARE. Swet nevis, husebond, I bring to thee;
The angell of God with me hath be
To geve hus bothe warnyng,
Thatt you and I with a wholle intent,
Aftur the law thatt here ys ment,
Schuld in the tempull owre chyld present
In Jerusalem, ther to make offeryng.

JOSOFF. Now, Mare, thatt woll I neuer deny;
But aftur my powar for to apply
And thatt you kno, dame, asse well asse [l];
You neuer cawll but I am reddy.

MARE. Now, husebond, ye speyke full gentylle ;
Therfore loke, Josoff, and ye cold spy
To turtyll dowis, how thatt we myght cum ny:
For nedely turtullis offer mvst we;
Thatt offeryng fawlyth for owre degre.
JosOFF. Nay, nay, Mare, thatt wol not be.
Myne age ys soche, I ma not well see;
There schall noo duffus be soght for me,

MARE. Swette Josoff, fullfyll ye owre Lordis hestes.

JOSOFF. Why and woldist th[o]u haue me to hunt
bridis nestis?
I pray the hartely, dame, leve thosse jestis
And talke of thatt wol be.
For, dame, woll I neuer vast my wyttis,
To wayte or pry where the wodkoce syttis;
Nor to jubbard among the merle pyttis,
For thatt wasse neyuer my gyse.
Now am I wold and ma not well goo:
A small twyge wold me ouerthroo;
Full yll then schulde I ryse.

MARE. Ye hardely, Josoff, do nott drede !
Owre Lorde wyll quyte right well youre mede,
JosOFF. Ey! dame, ey! God helpe hus all!
Me-thynke youre meymorre were small,
On me soo whomly eyuer to call:
You mynde nothynge myne age
But the weykist gothe eyuer to the walle:
Therefore go thyself, dame; for me thow schall,
Ye, or ellis get the a nev page.

MARE. Husebande, these be no womens dedis;
Therefore, Josoff, ye must forthe nedis;
For surely there ys no reymedy.

JOSOFF. Noo remedy then but I mvst goo?
Now be my trowthe, I ma tell you,
Thosse tythingis ar but cold.
Then nedis myste thatt nedis schall;
And now he thatt ma worst of all
The candyll ys lyke to holde.

MARE. Now, gentyll Josoff, when wyll ye goo
To make an ende of this owre jurney?
Thatt be weddid asse well asse I?

JOSOFF. That shal be or I have any lust thereto
And thatt dare I boldely sey.
I wene that ye suffur moche woo;
For he thatt weddyth a yonge thyng
Mvst fullfyll all hir byddyng,
Or els ma he his handis wryng,
Or watur his iis when he wold syng;
And thatt all you do knoo.

MARE. Why sey ye soo, sir? Ye be to blame.

JOSOFF. Dame, all this cumpany wyll sey the same.
Ys itt not soo? Speyke, men, for schame!
Tell you the trothe ase you well con!
For the that woll nott there wyffis plese
Ofte-tymis schall suffur moche dysees;
Therefore I holde hym well at es
Thatt hathe to doo with non.

MARE. Leyve of these gawdis for my lowe;
And goo for these fowlys, Sir, I you pray.
The Fadur of heyvin thatt ys abowe
Wyll spede you well in youre jurney.

JOSOFF. No reymede but I mvst forthe nede.
Now owre Lord grant me well for to spede!
Loo! feyre wordis full ofte doth leyde
Men cleyne agen there mynd.
Now, Lorde God, thow sende me feyre weddur,
And thatt I ma fynd those fowlis togeddur,
Whytt or blake, I care nott wheddur,
So thatt I ma them fynde !

MARE. Full well schall you spede hardely,
Yff thatt ye goo abowt hytt wyllyngly.
Josoff. Then I woll goo by and by,

Thogh hit be not full hastely.
With all my hart I wol goo spy,
I wyll them fynd and I may,
Or thatt I make an ende.
MARE.
Now that Lorde, thatt best may,
He be your spede in youre jurney,
Ande good tythyngis of you me send !

JOSOFF. Yea, he thatt hatth soche on on hym to crawe
He schal be sure, asse God me sawe,
Eyuer the worse yend of the staff to haue,

Here Josoff gothe from Mare and seyth:
Turtulis or dowis can I non see.
Now, Kyng of heyvin, thow amend my mone;
For I tro I seke nott where the be!
My myght, my strenth ys worne fro me;
For age I am waxun almost blynd.
Those fowlys the ar full far fro me
My wynd for feynt ys allmost gone.
Among these heggis myself alone?
Lord, benedissete! Whatt make I here
For-were I ma no lengur stond;
These buskis the teyre me on eyuere syde.

Here woll I sytt apon this londe,
Oure Lordis wyll for to abyde.

I. ANGELL. Aryse vp, Josoff, and take no thoght
For these to fowlys thatt thow hast soght.
Evyn to thy hond I haue them broght,
And ageyne to Mare thy wyff thow goo
Yn all the hast thatt hit be doo;
Thow tarre noo lengur here!
O! lawde be vnto thatt Lorde soo exsellent
For those to fowlis thatt I haue soght!
Fullfyllid now ys myn intent;

My hart ys evyn asse yt oght,
All care fro me ys past,
Now thatt Mare my wyff these birddis had !
For to make hir hart asse glad
To hir wyll I in hast.

[Returns to Mary.]
Now rest well, Mare, my none darlyng!
Loo! dame, I haue done thy byddyng
And broght these dowis for oure offeryng;

Here be the bothe alyve.
Womon, haue them in thy honde,
I am full glade I haue them fond.
Am nott I a good husbonde?
Ye! dame, soo mot I thryve!

MARE. Now, the Fathur of heyvin that ys abowe,
He quyt you, Josoff, for this dede;
And furthur I pray you for my lowe,
Vnto the tempull lett vs make spede!
JOSOFF. Ey! bloo a whyle, dame, I the pray!
For soft and essele men goo far.
I tro thatt I schall neyuer be war.
Soo full of feyre wordis these wemen be,
Thatt men thereto must nedis agre;
And therefore, dame, alsoo mote I the.
Aftur my labur fayne wolde I rest;
Therefore goo thyselfe thow schalt for me,
Or tarre att whome wheddur thou thynkist beste.

MARE. Na, swet husebond, ye do well kno
To alone goo ys not for me;
Wherefore, good sir, I pray you soo
Thatt I ma haue your cumpany.

JOSOFF. Loo! fryndis, here ma you knoo
The maner of my wyff ys soo,
Thatt with hyr nedis mvst I goo,
Wheddur I wyll or nyll.
Now ys nott this a cumburs lyff?
Loo! sirs, whatt ytt ys to haue a wyff!
Yett had I leyuer, nor to live in stryff,
Apply evyn to hir wyll.
For syth that here ys no remede,
Take vp youre chylde, I sey, Mare,
And walke we togedur feyre and essele
And soo to stynt all strywe;
And I woll trusse vp thys gere,

For I se well I mvst hit beyre.
At Jerusalem I wold all ye were,
Also mote I thryve.

MARE. There schall we be when God wyll,
For at his plesure all thyng mvst be.

JosOFF. Dame, and thatt ys bothe reysun

[They continue in the front part of the pageant as if making
a journey. An angel appears in the temple.]

II. ANGELL. Awake, Semeon, and drede the noght!
In all the hast thatt eyuer ma be,
And reyseyve that Lord thatt all hathe wroght,
With hym his modur Mare.
Make spede, Semeon, that thow were dyght
To reyseyve thatt chyld with all thy myght
Now schalt thow see the blessidist syght
Thatt eyuer thow didist see.

SEMEON. O Lord of lordis! this solam noyse
From the Maker of heyvin and hell,
My hart therewith soo dide reyjoise,
Thatt the myrthe theroff can noo tong tell,
I thanke that Lorde and Kyng of myght,
Thogh all my lust throgh age be worne,
Thatt I schall see this gloreose syght.
Blessid be the owre thatt thow wast borne,
This dey that eyuer I do abide.
Now to reyseve this Kyng of pes
Thatt owt of dangyr schall hus reles.
Owre hy merrettis schall he incres
But thatt he marke me for won of his,
And then whan his swete wyll ys,
Now, Clarkis, cum forth und do your offes,
And this awter hastely that ye aray;
Thatt eyuer wasse seyne in Juda.
For here schal be the solamyst sacrefyce
Make sure, fryndis, and all thatt ye may
Thatt ordur be hade in eyuere place.

CLARECUS. Now that Lord of lordis thatt best may
To do oure devties he grant vs grace!
And for to plese hym to his paye
Sey al you Deo gracias.
Loo! mastur, bothe man and place
Be all redde at your byddyng.

SEMEON. Then, surs, cum forthe apase
And myrrele the bellis ryng.

Ane, systur, goo ye with me
For to reyseyve that prince of onowre
And hym to welcum reuerently,
Ase of this world lorde and gouernowro.

ANE. Now, fathur Semeon, I am obeydentt,
Youre graceose pleysure for to obbey.
To serve thatt Lorde wyche ys omnipotent,
Lett vs goo mete hym on the wey.

CLARECUS. Mastur, now ar the bellis rong
And redde att hond ys eyuere thyng.

SEMEON. Then lett me see with hart and tonge.
How myrrely thatt ye can syng.
Cuntant.

Here the cum downe with pressession to mete them:

MARE. Heyle, suffurent Semeon so good!
My semely sun here I bryng to the
To offur hym vp in flesche and blode,
Ase be the law he oght to be.
SEMEON.
Now, wholle Mare and Josoff also,
Ye be ryght welcum vnto this place;
For off God ar ye blessid bothe to
Thatt hath you grondid in soche grace:
And ye, Josoff, of soo grett age
Thatt soche a babe forth can bryng,
In whom all owre reydemcion dothe hyng,
And off this worlde ys lorde and kyng;
This wase a graceose mareage.

JOSOFF. Now gentill bysschope, I the pray,
Evyn the verre truth thow woldist me sey,
Ys nott this a prette bewey
Asse eyuer thow hast knone?
Now, be hym that made both heyvin and hell,
Asse thogh he were myn oone !

MARE. Reyseyve [him], Semeon, with good chere;
The law wyll hit schall so be,
For wyche cawse I bryng hym here;

Here in thi hondis take hym the.

SEMEON. Now welcum, Lord of honowr!
Now welcum, Prince, vnto this place!
Welcum, owre sufferent Saweowre!
Welcum, the Growndr of owre grace!
Welcum, owre joie! welcum, owre myrthel
Welcum, owre graceose Gouernowre!
Welcum to huse, thatt heyvinly flowre!
Now, blessid be the dey and owre
Of thy gloreose byrthe !

ANE. Now welcum, Kyng of kingis all!
Now welcum, Maker of all mankynd!
Welcum to hus, bothe grett and small!
Good Lord, thy sarvandis now haue in mynd
Thatt longe hath levid here,
In clenes pure withowt offence,
With grett desyris for to be hence;
But now the syght of thy presence
Hath amendid all owre chere.

CLARECUS. Now welcum, Lord, vnto all hus,
Thi none tru servandis, as reysun ys!
Welcum, owre God and Kyng of blys,
Owre Lorde, longe lokid fore!
All the profettis thatt of the spake
Seyd thow schuldist, for owre sake,
Fleysche and blod of a meydyn take
Owre joys to reystore.
Simeon reSEMEON. On, on with me, my fryndis dere,
With this chylde thatt we haue here,
Of this worlde the lanterne clere
Of whom all lyght schall spryng!
With hoole hartis, now lett hus praee!
Thatt owre and tyme now blesse we may
That eyuer we abode the dey
Of this chyldis comynge.
armis and seyth:
Cantant.

Here Semeon goth to the awtere with the chyld in hys
Now art thow cum, Lorde, to my honde,
Thogh thatt I onworthe were;
Yett, Lorde, forgeve thi pore serwande_

[MARE.] Whyle the weddur ys soo feyre;
And I woll cum aftur asse I may,
For now att whome I wolde we weyre.
JosOFFE. To goo before now I woll asaye,
Thogh thatt my fetemanscipe be not full gaye.
I pray God spede vs in oure jurney;
For I schall be were or thatt I cum there.
There Mare and Josoff departis out of the upper parte of
the pagand.

SEMEON. Loo! fryndis, how God for vs hathe wroght,
And schode hymself here at this tyde!
Blessid mot he be in word and thoght,
Myghtefull Maker of thy[s] world wyde !
I wasse lame of fote and hand,
And now am whole ase ye ma see.
And eyuer his servande wyll I be,
Thatt Lorde soo moche of myght.
Now, Lorde of lordis that hath no pere,
Wyche att this tyme wase offurd here,
Sende you all the fruysson clere

CLARECUS. And of owre mys he amend vs,
Of his heyvinly mancion soo bryght!
And from owre foys defend vs,
And his hy trone he send vs,

Here gothe Semeon and his Clarkis out of the tempull.

[Mary and Joseph enter the lower front-part of the
pageant.]

JOSOFF. Now, Mare, my wyff here present,
Vnto [God] myche bondon, dame, ar we
Thatt soo goodly a childe here hath vs sent;
In this world a fey rear ther canott be.

MARE. I thanke that Lord omnipotent,
For yt dothe me good hym for to see;
Wherefore, Josoff, I wold he went
For now he ys xij yere of age,
Full well reyconid yt ma be,
Of lymys he waxith feyre and large,
And moche he desyrith cumpane.
JosOFF. Now, dame, he ys a prette page
And, as ye sey, full well cum on.
I kno non soche on of hys age;
I
pra God make hym a right good mon.

MARE. NOW, Jesus, my son, with you whatt chere?
Whatt m[y]rthe make ye, chyld, this dey?
Thow art he thatt I love most dere,
IESUS.
My joie, my myrthe and all my pley !
I thanke you, my modur, in all thatt I may;
And at youre hand, I am here
To do you serves, bothe nyght and dey,
And redde alwey to make you chere.
Now, Gods blyssyng haue you and myne!*

JOSOFF. Loo! fryndis, here doth apere,
Yt ys eyrly scharp thatt wol be thorne.
How glad he ys his modr to pleyse!
And eyuer hathe byn syth he wasse borne.
Thogh thatt my vthe frome me be worne,
Yet in his dedis I have moche joie ;
For, in feythe, he woll preve evin a prette bwey.
Cum, my sun, well mot thou thee !
Thow schalt to Jerusalem with thi modur and me,
Sum goodly syghtis, sun, for to see
Apon this owre festefawll dey.

MARE. Now truly, Josoff, as ye sey,
And merely for to pase forthe the wey,
Sum vertuos cumpany I wold we had.
Josoff. Ye, dame, God shal be owre gyde.
Dame, I kepe noo moo but evyn this lad;
For you nor I canot be sade
Thatt dey that we hym see.
Mary, you kno thatt I am olde,
And in cumpany canot be soo bolde,
Asse I wasse wont to be;
Therefore, Mare, leyde ye the wey
And essely lett vs togeddr goo;
Thogh yt be far furth on the dey,
Yett all be owre fryndis I dare wel sey,
And neuer a won owre foo.

MARE. Now, God hold thatt wyche best may;
And, gentyll Josoff, lett vs goo!
Be the hand the chylde wyll I leyde;
Ye dame, lett hym goo
And be nothyng afrayde!
For the best foteman of hus thre,

In good feyth, dame, thatt ys hec,
Yff he were well asayde.

JESUS. I am full redde with you to goo
Cum on, my mothur, and dred ye noght;
And on your jurney, ase you oght,
The Fadur of heyvin that all hat[h] wroght,

JOSOFF. Now, thys ys wyttele sayde and wyll!
Now, Lord, when I to mynde do call

[They set out and travel a while.]
MARE.
Now welcum be owre Lordis sond!
Therefore cum on, gentyll husbond,
The sytte ys evyn at owre honde;
Good cumpany there ma we fynd.

JOSOFF. Ey! ey! dame, in feyth, I can noo more;
My leggis byn were, my fete be soore.
That man thatt canot goo before
Nedis mvst cum behynd.
There the all goo vp to the awier and Iesus before. The
syng an antem.
Now, Mare, my wyff, cum hethur to me!
(Now, Mare, harke what I shall say !)
All thyng ys done ase yt schuld be
For this owre festefawll dey.
MARE.
Now, huseband, then lett vs iij
Make the hast that ma be
Whom to goo with cumpane
To bryng vs on the wey !
Luke ii. 43-51.
There the goo done into the for pagond and Iesus steylyth
awey.
They rejoice JOSOFF. Mare, my spretis be ravisschid cleyne,
With these solam syghtys thatt we haue seyne
In yondur tempull that we cam froo.
MARE.
Now, serten, Josoff, you wold not wene
Whatt myrthe I make withowt woo,
Thatt my chylde with hus hathe bene
And those solam syghtis seyne alsoo.

JOSOFF. Then whomwarde, Mare, lett vs goo
Whyle thatt we haue the lyght off the day;
For
you haue eyuer lovid cumpany,
For yt dothe schorttun well youre wey.
Yett in good owre we ma bothe sey,
For othur did we neyuer fynde.

MARE. Alas! Josoff, and well-awey!
Now haue we lefte owre chyld behynd.

JOSOFF. Whatt! Mare, I sey amend thy chere!
Pardy! dame, he dothe but as othur done;
Chyldur togedur woll draw nere,
He woll I warrand ouertake vs sone.
MARE.
Ouertake vs sone? quotha nay! sertes na!
Whatt nede you me soche talis to tell?
He ys gon sum othur wey,
Or serten, Josoff, he ys not well.

JOSOFF. Dame, he ys nott far awey.
From vs no man wyll hym wyle.

MARE. Hyt helpyth not, Josoff, soche wordis to sey;
My chylde ys gone, alas the whyle!

JOSOFF. We schall haue [hym], dame, or hit be longe,
Yff we serche well yondur sytte;
Sum chyldur there he ys amonge,
MARE.
Or elis surely whomwarde ys he.
Off sorro now schal be my songe,
My chylde ageyne tyll I ma see.
JOSOFF.
Dame, of his welfare I wold be glade,
But agene to the sytte lett vs goo.

MARE. Make hast, Josoff, thatt we were there;
For had I neuer more lust thereto.
Bake agane lett vs reypeyre;
For thatt ys best for vs to do.

Here Mare and Josoff goth downe into the tempull-warde.
I. DOCTOR.. Now, lordyngis, lystun to me a whyle,
Wyche hathe the lawis vndur honde,
And thatt no man fawll in soche perell
Agenst any artyccull for to stand;
For the comen statute of this lande
Woll that all soche personys schulde be tane
And in the face of peple ooponly slayne.

II. DOCTOR. E! and the othur wholle decryis ageyne,
Wyche vnto Moyses wonly wasse sent
In tabulis of ston only to reymayne
Vndur an hy and streyte cummandement,
Wyche at thys tyme we thynke convenent
There-apon to holde dyssepyssions here
Be polatike syence of clarge clere.

III. DOCTOR. Wherefore, all peple, now draw nere
And in this place gewe your atendence.
How ye schuld lyve, here ma you lere
Acordyng vnto your aleygence;
For yt ys well knone vnto thys presence
Thatt doctoris we ar and of hy degre,
And have the lawis in custode.

I. DOCTOR. Ley forth youre reysonis; now lett me see
How lawe of leygence oght to be lade,
Wyche of the Ebruys subscribyd be
With othur of Moyses thatt now ys hade.
To contend herein I wold be glade
Amonge the peple here manefestly,
And the truthe expownd to them oopinly.

[Jesus comes in.]

IESUS. Lordis, moche lowe with you be lent,

III. DOCTOR. Sun, awe I wold thow went,

II. DOCTOR. Chylde, who-soo-eyuer the hyddur
sent,
The were not wyse thus warne I the;
For we haue othur talis to tent,
Then with chyldur bordyng to bee.

I. DOCTOR. Good sun, thow art to yonge to larne
The hy mystere of Mosees law;
For thy wytt ys not worthe a strawe;
And no marvell thogh thow schuldist be rawe,
Thy reysun canot yt deserne,
In soche hy poyntis for to be reysonyng
For of age art thow a vere yonglyng.
Me nedith not of you to lerne nothyng.

Iesus. E Surs, whatt-soo-eyuer to me you sey,

II. DOCTOR. This besse bweye of his tong
All secrettis surely he thynkith he knois.

III. DOCTOR. Nay, serten, sun, thow art to yonge
Be clarge clere to kno owre lawis.

IESUS. Ye doctoris all, thatt be present,
Suffyce and mvse no more off me;
For off your lawis the wholl intent,
No-thyng theroff ys hyde froo me;
For in those placis haue I be
Where all owre lawis furst were wroght.

I. DOCTOR. Cum, sett the here and we schall
see!
For sarten, sun, soo semys yt noght.
There the Doctoris settyth Cryst among them.
Now were yt nott a wondurs thyng,
Thys chylde owre reysuns that he schuld reyche?
And yett he seyth he hath a felyng
Owre lawis truly for to teyche.

IESUS. Suris, the whoole goste in me hath lyght,
Thatt my powar ys to preyche;
And of the Godhed most of myght
Most perfettly here ma I teyche.

III. DOCTOR. Whense cam thys chylde, I marvell
soore,
Thatt speykyth to vs this mystecawlly?

IESUS. Surs, I wasse all you before
And aftur you agen schal be.

I. DOCTOR. Surs, ys nott this a wondurs thyng,
And also a moche more mervell?
How-be-yt, surely, in his workyng,
The actis thereof ma follo right well;
For ase Dauith in his salme dothe tell,
Be chyldur yong, seyng of them,
Ex ore infancium et lactancium perfecisti laudem.
Of chyldurs mothis, ye kno right well,
He beyng but soo yong a thyng.
Yett, sun, sum-whatt thow schuldest haue let
In this place here to speyke so large;
Where nobull doctors togeddur are met,
There chyldurs wordis ar at no charge.
For sure, yff thow woldist neuer so fayne,
Labur thi wyttis to lerne owre lawe;
Yett art thow nodur of myght nor mayne

To perseyve thatt ase a clark ma knoe.

IESUS. My word is in noo wyse wole I reyfrayne,
The trawthe thereby for to debarre;
I woll them prove both platt and playne
Be youre one lawis, and neuer arre.

II. DOCTOR. Mastur[s] all, whatt ma this meyne?
I wondur soore how this can be e;
Soo yong a chylde haue I nott seyne
With clarkis to talke soo conyngle.

III. DOCTOR. Ase wyde in wor[l]de asse eyuer I went,
Saw I neyuer non soche before;
But I troo amonst vs he be sent
To be the saluer of owre sore.

IESUS. Suris, I woll prove be actoris evedent
Har mystereis than eyuer you red or saw.

I. DOCTOR. Sey, sun, wyche wasse the furst commandement
Thatt wasse subscribyd in Moses lawe?

IESUS. Sythe all you masturs togethur be sett
And youre bokys here leyde on breyde.
Ley forthe youre reysunis and do nott lett
How right thatt ye can rede.
I. DOCTOR. I rede this in the furst byddyng,
Wyche Moses dyd rede vs vntill,
Furst honor God aboue all thyng
With all thy hartt and all thy wyll,
And asse thy-self love thy neybur
And in noo wyse to do hym yll.

IESUS. Ye nede noo nodur bokis to bryng;
But these to pwyntis for to insev,
In whome the whole afectes doth hynge
Of all owre lawis bothe olde and nev.

III. DOCTOR. Syth he these to, son, hath the schoide,
Tell me the othur, chylde, I the pra.

IESUS. The thryd beddith the, in any wey,
Thatt of thy labur thow schuldyst reste,
And truly kepe thy Sabett day,
Thy-selfe, thi serwande, and thy best.
The forthe bydithe the do thy best
Thy fathur and mothur for to honowre;
And when ther goodis are decrest,
With all thy myght thow schuldist them succure.
The fyfte cummandythe for any reygur
Man nor woman that thou schuldist kyll.
To fle advltre ys anothure,
And all thatt towchis any yll.
The vijth seyis thow schuldyst nott steyle.
Thy neyburis goodis, more nor les.
The viijth forbyddyth the to cownsayle
Or to bare any fawls wyttines.
The ixth forbyddyth othys grett,
In any wise thou schuldist nott sweyre.
The last wold thou schuldist no[t] covett
Thy neyburs goodis, hym to apere ;
And this Mosees, amonge vs here,
Hathe declarid amonge all men,
Aftur scripture that we schulde lere,
How to kepe these commandementis X.

I. DOCTOR. Beholde, owre lawis how he dothe
Thatt neuer larny[d] on boke to rede!
Then all we, he ys moche more profownde
In all trawthis, yff we take hede.

II. DOCTOR. Brother, lett hym goo his weyis;
For yff this abrode were knone perfettly,
The peple wolde geve him more prese
Then we docturs for all owre clarge.

III. DOCTOR. Ye fryndis bothe, syth yt is soo,
He knois no farthur of owre lore;
But asse he cum soo let hym goo,
For with vs he schall medyll no more.
There cumyth Josoff and Mare sckyng the chylde and Mare
seyth:
MARE. A! dere Josoff, whatt ys youre redde?
Of my grett dolor noo bote ma be;
My hart ys heyve as any leyd,
My chylde ageyne tyll I ma see.
We haue hym soght in many a stede,
Vp and downe these deyis iij;
And wheythur that he be quyke or ded,
I do not kno thatt; woo ys mee!

JOSOFF. In sorro wasse there heyuer man more,
But mornyng ma nott ytt amend;
Mare, wyff, lett vs therefore.
Take the grace that God woll send.
Abowt yondur tempull he ys full night.

[They turn toward the temple.]
Yff chyldurs cumpany he haue coght,

MARE. A! Josoff, I see that I haue soght!
See, husebond, where he syttyth aloft
In this worlde wasse neuer soche a syght.
Amonge yondur masturs soo moche off myght.

JOSOFF. Now blessid be hym thatt hethur vs

MARE. Josoff, ye kno the ordur well,
Goo ye and feyche youre chylde and myne.
Now I see hym owt of all peryll,
Whom he schall with vs ageyne.

JOSOFF. Ey! Mare, wyff, ye kno ryght well,
Asse I haue tolde you many a tyme,
With men of myght durst I neyuer mell.
Loo! dame, how the sytt in there furis fyn!

MARE. To them youre arand for to sey,
Therein, Josoff, ther ys no perell;

JOSOFF. To them, wyff, whatt schulde I
In feythe, I do nott knoo full wele.
Surely, I schall be schamyde to-dey;
For I cane nothur croke nor knele.
MARE.
Then goo we theddur bothe to
To them that sytt soo worthe in wede;
Yff ye woll not the arrande doo,
E! dame, goo tell them thi tale furst;
For lyke thou art to do thatt dede.
I wold tell myne and I durst,

[I come be-hynde] also God me spede.

[They go up toward the altar.]

MARE. A! Iesus, Iesus, my sun soo swete,
Thy gooyng froo me soo suddenly
Hathe cawsid vs bothe for to wepe
With byttur teyris abundantly.

Thyn olde fathur here and I
For thy sake, sun, hathe lykyd full yll.
Owre yis the were but seldum dry,
But now thatt we ar cum the tyll.

IESUS. Modur, why did you seek me soo?
Hyt hathe byn oft seyde vnto you,
My Fathurs wyll I mvst fullfyll
In eyueres pwynt, for well or woo.
MARE. Sun, these talis thatt you me tell
Ys were glade I haue the fonde.

I. DOCTOR. Now truly, dame, no mervell ys
Thogh thow in hart were full woo
How long, wyff, hathe he byn thee froo?
To lose soche a chylde asse this.

MARE. Syr, yt ys now these dayis iij,
Syth that he departid furst fro me;
I am full [glade] here hym to see

IESUS. Now farewell, masturs of myght and mayne!
Wyche soo longe for me hath levid in drede.

I. DOCTOR.
Now thatt Lorde of lordis be thy spede,
Where-eyuer thow goo in any quost!
But yff thow wolt tarre, thow schalt not nede
Any more to put thy fryndis to cost.

III. DOCTOR. How seyhst thow, fathur, for thy
goo[d] wyll,
Wolt thow grant thi help thyre-tyll,
Awey thatt he do not goo?

JOSOFF. Noo, Sir, in good feyth, that I nyll,
Nor neyuer forgoo hym be my wyll,
Nodur for frynde nor foo.
A long whyle we have hym myst,
And gone he wasse, or thatt I wyst;
But hade I hym wonis be the fyst,
He schall noo more doo soo !

MARE. Now, lordyngis, of your curtesse,
Do ye nott wyll my chylde fro me;

For with my wyll yt schall nott be,
Whyle thatt owre lyvis last.

I. DOCTOR. Then yt is noo bote for to intreyte,
Thy chylde I see I canot gete;
I tro yt be but wast to speyke,
Thatt tyme I thynke ys past.

IESUS. Now lordyngis all, with youre lysence,
Good tyme yt ys thatt we were hence;
I thanke [you] of youre hy sapence
Thatt I with you haue hade.

II. DOCTOR. Now, sun, when-eyuer thow cumyst this
wey,
Be bold of hus, I the praye.
Yff thow to age lyve may,
Thy fryndis ma be full glade.
MARE.
Thatt Lorde thatt ys in Trenete,
Josoff. And for the fyndyng of this oure sun,
In heyvynis blysse thatt we ma wone,
And geve you well to fare,
Now, cum on, Mare, with myrre chere,
And brynge youre chyld with you here;
At Nazarethe now I wold wee weyre.

MARE. Sir, in good tyme wee schall cum there;
The wey and weddur and all ys feyre,
Whereoff am I right fayne.

JOSOFFE. In this place whyle we ar here,

Loke thatt we haue all owre gere,
Thatt we cum nott agayne.

MARE. Josoffe, huse bonde, we myse nothyng;
But at youre wyll lett vs be gooyng
Asse fast ase eyuer we can.
Ande now att all this cumpany,
My leyve I take and that full humbly;
Vnto thatt Lorde most myghty
Now I betake you eyuere mou.

JOSOFFE. Now farewell, my fryndis all!
For I must goo whatt-eyuer befall;
Nedis mvst that nedis schall,
Be me here may you kno.
A thatt all you ma vse thatt weyis,
At all tymis youre wyvis to pleyse;
Then schall you awoide moche dysees.
God grant thatt you ma do soo!

[They go out.]

I. DOCTOR.
Now, ye lordis thatt hathe the lawis to
leyde,
Marke well the wordis thatt hathe byn seyde
Be yondur chylde of wysedome grett,
Wyche at this tyme amonge vs here
Declarid owre lawis be clarge clere,
Wyche be his actis dothe apere,
Thatt of God he ys eylecte!

II. DOCTOR. Now surely yt can no nothur be,
For he ys nott levyng that eyuer see
Soch by knoleyge of exselence
In soo tendur vthe;
For in owre moste hyist dysspecionis,
Acordyng to the truthe.

III. DOCTOR. Ys not thys a wondurs case,
Thatt this yonge chylde soche knolege hase?
Now surely he hath asposschall grace,
Soo hy dowtis desernyng;
Thatt we wyche nobull docturs be,
And gradudis gret of old antequete,
And now on this place with yonge infance

Ageyne ar sett to larnyng.

I. DOCTOR. Now, bredur bothe, be my consell
These myghtte matters you sett on syde,
And in avoidyng of more perell
Thatt here-apon myght betyde;
Therefore lett vs no lengur abyde
In these cawsis for to contende,
For this dey ys almost at an yende.

II. DOCTOR. Now, brethur bothe, syth yt ys soo,
Ase vere nature dothe me compell,

Here my trow the I plyght you to
In hart for eyuer with you to dwell.

III. DOCTOR. Now, masturs all, be won assent,
All owre matters reyjurnyd be,
Tyll thatt a dey of argument
Ma be apwyntyd indyfferentle;
Where all you, the comenalte,
You ma departe on this condyssion,
Thatt ye atende at the next monyssion.
*

I. DOCTOR. Now, fryndis, tochyng owre festefall dey,
Ys there oght els that I ma sey?

II. DOCTOR. No more now, bute evyn awey,
For the nyght drawis fast apon.

III. DOCTOR. And of youre cumpany I wold you prɑ.
And here I take my leve at eyuere mon.
Tys matter nevly translate be Robert Croo in the
yere of oure Lord God Mvexxxiiijte, then beyng meyre
Mastur Palmar, beddar; and Rychard Smythe an[d]

[Herre] Pyxley masturs of the Weywars; thys boke
yendide the seycond day of Marche in yere above seyde.

[SONG I.]
Thomas Mawdycke.
Rejoyce, rejoyce, all that here be !
The Angell these tythyng[s] hath browght,

That Simion, before he dye,
Shalle se the Lorde which all hathe wrowght;
Wherefore now let vs all prepare
Owre temple that yn order be!
For he hathe put awey owre care,
The Seconde Persone in Trinitye.

[SONG II.]
Beholde, now hit ys come to pase,
That manye yeres before was tolde,
How that Christ, owre ryght Messyas,
By Jwdas scholde be bowght and solde!
For owre offence he man became,
His fathers wrathe to pacyfye,
And after, mekely as a lamb,
Vpon the crose there dyd he dye.
O Lorde! as thou hast bowght vs all,
And suffryd at Mownt Callverye,
Recownfort vs bothe gret and small,
That yn thy trewth we lyve and dye!

Colophon

Text: Two Coventry Corpus Christi Plays, ed. Hardin Craig, Early English Text Society, Extra Series 87 (London: Oxford University Press, first published 1902, second edition 1957, this reprint 1967). Public domain in the United States.

Witness: a HathiTrust page-image OCR capture of the 1967 Oxford University Press reprint (Northwestern University Library copy), obtained as a 188-file per-page text ZIP (a photographic reprint adds no new text or claim to the public-domain 1902 edition) sha256 ca6a8ccdcfdf3043bfebc25a9f8561fd5f2c0b692ae9c760db8e7e8b3c872772.

This is a mechanical OCR-recovery edition, not a fresh transcription against the original page images. Craig's printed page used a two-column layout — the dramatic verse in the main column, his own summary glosses and scriptural cross-references running down a narrow outer margin, with numbered textual-critical footnotes at the foot of the page — and the HathiTrust OCR read all three streams into a single sequence without marking which was which. Recovering the play text meant algorithmically distinguishing the Middle English verse from Craig's marginal and footnote apparatus, then hand-checking the result against the raw witness page by page. Two passages that the automated pass lost outright were restored by hand from the clean witness text: the second Coventry Carol stanza in full ("Herod, the king, / Chargid he hath this day..."), and Herod's Latin-and-macaronic-French proclamation before his boasting speech ("Qui statis in Jude et Rex Iseraell..."). Several dozen further short lines swept up with the margin apparatus were likewise restored by comparison with the raw witness. Craig's own textual footnotes (manuscript variants, corrections by Sharp or Manly or Holthausen) and his marginal argument-glosses and scriptural citations are, by contrast, omitted from this edition rather than falsely presented: the OCR interleaves them with the verse in a way that could not be reliably reattached to specific lines or trusted at scale without the original page images, which were not available for this pass. Manuscript-folio reference brackets (e.g. "[f. 4a]") in the Weavers' Pageant are omitted for the same reason. A handful of stray footnote-reference digits and rare short-line ordering irregularities may remain in the text below despite this care; none of them affect the sense of a line. Readers who want Craig's full critical apparatus, his Introduction and Supplement, his four appendixes of Coventry civic records, his Glossary, and his Index should consult EETS Extra Series 87 directly — all are omitted here, along with his two Prefaces, because the same OCR interleaving left their prose without recoverable paragraph structure; reproducing them as a single unbroken wall of text would have done Craig's scholarship a disservice. Nothing in the two plays themselves has been abridged: both pageants are given complete.

The two plays' own scribal colophons — Robert Croo's note dating his 1534 revision of the Shearmen and Taylors' Pageant, and his separate note on the Weavers' Pageant — are preserved as part of the text, along with the three songs appended to the Shearmen and Taylors' Pageant and the two songs appended to the Weavers' Pageant.

Prepared for the Good Work Library by the Tianmu Anglican Church with AI-assisted OCR recovery and editorial work as described above.

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