English Mystery Plays

3. The Killing of Abel

Mactatio Abel

TOWNELEY 2: GLOVERS (?)

The story of Cain is a completion of the Fall. It shows how the corruption of man intensifies following the expulsion from Paradise. The character of Cain is developed beyond the account in Genesis to make him blasphemous and self-interested. His abuse of God is vigorous and obscene. The picture of human corruption is intensified by the introduction of Cain’s servant, Pikeharnes, who follows the characterization of a number of other irreverent servants and boys (see Jak Garcio in No. 13, and Froward in No. 27). By contrast Abel is shown as a type of obedience, perhaps foreshadowing Isaac and Christ as victims.

Part of the play is thought to be the work of the Wakefield Master. If he was responsible for a revision, however, his work is difficult to identify specifically. One stanza (No. 35) could be taken as an example of his favourite metre, and the vigorous language of Cain and Pikeharnes is very similar to other work by him, particularly in its use of irony and proverb.

The words ‘Glover pac…’ have been added to the MS by a sixteenth-century scribe in the margin by the title.

[Enter Garcio.]

(1)

GARCIO: All hayll, all hayll, both blithe and glad,

For here com I, a mery lad!

Be peasse youre dyn, my master bad,

3 peasse silent dyn noise bad commanded

Or els the dwill you spede.

Wote ye not I com before?

Bot who that ianglis any more

He must blaw my blak hoill bore ¹,

Both behynd and before,

Till his tethe blede.

10 Felows, here I you forbede

To make nother nose ne cry;

Who so is so hardy to do that dede

The dwill hang hym up to dry.

(2)

Gedlyngis, I am a full grete wat.

A good yoman my master hat.

Full well ye all hym ken.

Begyn he with you for to stryfe,

Certis, then mon ye never thryfe;

Bot I trow, bi God on life,

20 Som of you ar his men.

Bot let youre lippis cover youre ten ²,

Harlottys everichon!

For if my master com, welcom hym then.

Farewell, for I am gone.

[Exit.]

(3)

[Enter Cain, ploughing.]

CAYN: IO furth, Greynhorne! and war oute, Gryme!³

Drawes on! God gif you ill to tyme!

Ye stand as ye were fallen in swyme.

What, will ye no forther, mare?

War! Let me se how Down will draw;

30 Yit, shrew, yit, pull on a thraw.

What! It semys for me ye stand none aw.

4 dwill devil 6 ianglis chatters 11 nose noise 14 Gedlyngis fellows wat chap 15 hat is called 18 mon shall thryfe prosper 25 Io furth gee up! war oute wake up! 27 swyme swoon 30 thraw time 31 aw fear

I say, Donnyng, go fare!

Aha, God gif the soro and care!

Lo, now hard she what I saide;

Now yit art thou the warst mare

In plogh that ever I haide.

(4)

How, Pikeharnes ⁴, how! Com heder belife!

[Enter Garcio.]

GARCIO: I fend, Godys forbot, that ever thou thrife!

CAYN: What, boy, shal I both hold and drife?

40 Heris thou not how I cry?

GARCIO: Say, Mall and Stott, will ye not go?

Lemyng, Morell, Whitehorn, io!

Now will ye not se how thay hy?

(5)

CAYN: Gog gif the sorow, boy; want of mete it gars.

GARCIO: Thare provand, sir, forthi, I lay behynd thare ars,

And tyes them fast bi the nekys,

With many stanys in thare hekys ⁵.

CAYN: That shall bi thi fals chekys.

(6)

GARCIO: And have agane as right

50 CAYN: I am thi master; wilt thou fight?

GARCIO: Yai, with the same mesure and weght

That I boro will I qwite.

CAYN: We! Now no thyng bot call on tyte,

That we had ployde this land.

GARCIO: Harrer, Morell! io furth, hyte!

And let the plogh stand.

36 haide had 37 belife quickly 38 fend prohibit 39 drife drive 44 gif give mete meat gars causes 45 provand food forthi therefore 47 stanys stones hekys rack 48 chekys cheeks 52 qwite give back 53 tyte soon 54 ployde ploughed 55 hyte go on

(7)

[Enter Abel.]

ABELL: God, as he both may and can,

Spede the, brother, and thi man.

CAYN: Com kis myne ars! Me list not ban,

60 As welcom standys ther oute.

Thou shuld have bide til thou were cald;

Com nar, and other drife or hald,

And kys the dwillis toute.

Go grese thi shepe under the toute,

For that is the moste lefe.

ABELL: Broder, ther is none here aboute

That wold the any grefe.

(8)

Bot, leif brother, here my sawe:

It is the custom of oure law,

70 All that wyrk as the wise

Shall worship God with sacrifice.

Oure fader us bad, oure fader us kend,

That oure tend shuld be brend.

Com furth, brothere, and let us gang

To worship God; we dwell full lang;

Gif we hym parte of oure fee,

Corne or catall, wheder it be.

(9)

And therfor, brother, let us weynd,

And first dens us from the feynd

80 Or we make sacrifice;

Then blis withoutten end

Get we for oure servyce,

(10)

Of hym that is oure saulis leche.

59 ban curse 63 toute backside 65 lefe dear 70 wyrk act 72 kend taught 73 tend tithe brend burned 80 Or before 83 saulis soul’s leche healer

CAYN: HOW! Let furth youre geyse, the fox will preche.

How long wilt thou me appech

With thi sermonyng?

Hold thi tong, yit I say,

Even ther the good wife strokid the hay ⁶;

Or sit downe in the dwill way,

90 With thi vayn carpyng.

(11)

Shuld I leife my plogh and all thyng

And go with the to make offeryng?

Nay, thou fyndys me not so mad!

Go to the dwill, and say I bad!

What gifys God the, to rose hym so?

Me gifys he noght bot soro and wo.

(12)

ABELL: Caym, leife this vayn carpyng,

For God giffys the all thi lifyng.

CAYN: Yit boroed I never a farthyng

100 Of hym – here my hend.

ABELL: Brother, as elders have us kend,

First shuld we tend with oure hend,

And to his lofyng sithen be brend ⁷.

(13)

CAYN: My farthyng is in the preest hand

Syn last tyme I offyrd.

ABELL: Leif brother, let us be walkand;

I wold oure tend were profyrd.

(14)

CAYN: We! Wherof shuld I tend, leif brothere?

For I am ich yere wars then othere;

84 geyse geese 85 appech delay 90 carpyng criticizing 95 rose praise 98 lifyng living 100 hend hand 102 tend pay tithe 103 lofyng praise

110 Here my trouth, it is none othere.

My wynnyngys ar bot meyn,

No wonder if that I be leyn;

Full long till hym I may me meyn,

For bi hym that me dere boght,

I traw that he will leyn me noght.

(15)

ABELL: Yis, all the good thou has in wone

Of Godys grace is bot a lone ⁸.

CAYN: Lenys he me? As com thrift apon the so!

For he has ever yit beyn my fo;

120 For had he my freynd beyn,

Other-gatys it had beyn seyn.

When all mens corn was fayre in feld

Then was myne not worth a neld.

When I shuld saw, and wantyd seyde,

And of corn had full grete neyde,

Then gaf he me none of his,

No more will I gif hym of this.

Hardely hold me to blame

Bot if I serve hym of the same.

130 ABELL: Leif brother, say not so,

Bot let us furth togeder go;

Good brother, let us weynd sone,

No longer here I rede we hone.

CAYN: Yei, yet, thou iangyls waste!

The dwill me spede if I have hast,

As long as I may lif,

To dele my good or gif ⁹,

Ather to God or yit to man,

Of any good that ever I wan.

140 For had I giffen away my goode,

Then myght I go with a ryffen hood,

111 meyn small 112 leyn lean 113 meyn complain 115 leyn give 117 lone gift 118 Lenys gives 121 Other-gatys otherwise 123 neld needle 124 seyde seed 133 hone delay 134 waste in vain 139 wan won 141 ryffen torn

And it is better hold that I have,

Then go from doore to doore and crave.

ABELL: Brother, com furth in Godys name,

I am full ferd that we get blame;

Hy we fast that we were thore.

CAYN: We! Ryn on, in the dwills nayme, before!

Wemay, man, I hold the mad!

Wenys thou now that I list gad

150 To gif away my warldys aght?

The dwill hym spede that me so taght!

What nede had I my travell to lose,

To were my shoyn and ryfe my hose?

ABELL: Dere brother, hit were grete wonder

That I and thou shuld go in sonder,

Then wold oure fader have grete ferly;

Ar we not brether, thou and I?

CAYN: No, bot cry on, cry, whyls the thynk good!

Here my trowth, I hold the woode.

160 Wheder that he be blithe or wroth

To dele my good is me full lothe.

I have gone oft on softer wise

Ther I trowed som prow wold rise.

Bot well I se go must I nede;

Now weynd before, ill myght thou spede!

Syn that we shall algatys go.

ABELL: Leif brother, whi sais thou so?

Bot go we furth both togeder.

Blissid be God we have fare weder.

[They go to an altar.]

170 CAYN: Lay downe thi trussell apon this hill.

ABELL: Forsoth, broder, so I will;

Gog of heven take it to good.

CAYN: Thou shall tend first if thou were wood.

146 thore there 147 Ryn run 148 Wemay hurry! 149 Wenys do you think? gad go 150 warldys worldly aght possessions 152 travell labour 153 shoyn shoes ryfe tear 156 ferly wonder 159 woode mad 163 prow profit 165 weynd go 166 algatys always 170 trussell bundle

ABELL: God that shope both erth and heven,

I pray to the thou here my Steven,

And take in thank, if thi will be,

The tend that I offre here to the;

For I gif it in good entent

To the, my Lord, that all has sent.

180 I bren it now, with stedfast thoght,

In worship of hym that all has wroght.

CAYN: Ryse! Let me now, syn thou has done;

Lord of heven, thou here my boyne!

And over Godys forbot be to the

Thank or thew to kun me ¹⁰;

For, as browke I thise two shankys

It is full sore, myne unthankys,

The teynd that I here gif to the,

Of corn or thyng that newys me;

190 Bot now begyn will I then,

Syn I must nede my tend to bren.

Oone shefe, oone, and this makys two,

Bot nawder of thise may I forgo ¹¹.

Two, two, now this is thre,

Yei, this also shall leif with me:

For I will chose and best have –

This hold I thrift – of all this thrafe.

Wemo, wemo, foure, lo, here!

Better groved me no this yere.

200 At yere tyme I sew fayre corn,

Yit was it sich when it was shorne,

Thystyls and brerys, yei grete plente

And all kyn wedys that myght be.

Foure shefys, foure, lo, this makys fyfe –

Deyll I fast thus long or I thrife ¹² –

Fyfe and sex, now this is sevyn,

Bot this gettys never God of heven.

174 shope made 175 steven voice 183 boyne prayer 185 thew courtesy 186 browke use shankys legs 189 newys me grows for me 195 leif stay 197 thrafe measure 198 wemo well! 199 groved grew 203 wedys weeds 204 shefys sheaves

Nor none of thise foure, at my myght,

Shall never com in Godys sight.

210 Sevyn, sevyn, now this is aght –

ABELL: Cain, brother, thou art not God betaght.

CAYN: We! Therfor is it that I say,

For I will not deyle my good away:

Bot had I gyffen hym this to teynd

Then wold thou say he were my freynd;

Bot I thynk not, bi my hode,

To departe so lightly fro my goode.

We! Aght, aght, and neyn, and ten is this,

We! This may we best mys.

220 Gif hym that that ligys thore?

It goyse agans myn hart full sore.

(16)

ABELL: Cam, teynd right of all bedeyn.

CAYN: We lo! Twelve, fyfteyn, sexteyn.

ABELL: Caym, thou tendys wrang, and of the warst.

CAYN: We! Com nar and hide myne een ¹³;

In the wenyand wist ye now at last.

Or els will thou that I wynk?

Then shall I doy no wrong, me thynk.

(17)

Let me se now how it is –

230 Lo, yit I hold me paide;

I teyndyd wonder well bi Ges,

And so even I laide.

(18)

ABELL: Came, of God me thynke thou has no drede.

CAME: NOW and he get more, the dwill me spede!

As mych as oone reepe,

For that cam hym full light chepe;

210 aght eight 211 betaght devoted 213 deyle give 220 ligys lies 222 bedeyn at once 226 wenyand waning (of the moon) 228 doy do 231 Ges Jesus 235 oone one reepe handful 236 chepe cost

Not as mekill, grete ne small,

As he myght wipe his ars with all.

For that, and this that lyys here

240 Have cost me full dere;

Or it was shorne, and broght in stak,

Had I many a wery bak;

Therfor aske me no more of this,

For I have giffen that my will is.

ABELL: Cam, I rede thou tend right,

For drede of hym that sittys on hight.

CAYN: HOW that I tend, rek the never a deill,

Bot tend thi skabbid shepe wele;

For if thou to my teynd tent take ¹⁴,

250 It bese the wars for thi sake.

Thou wold I gaf hym this shefe? or this sheyfe?

Na, nawder of thise ij will I leife;

Bot take this, now had he two,

And for my saull now mot it go,

Bot it gos sore agans my will,

And shal he like full ill.

ABELL: Cam, I reyde thou so teynd

That God of heven be thi freynd.

CAYN: My freynd? Na, not bot if he will!

260 I did hym never yit bot skill.

If he be never so my fo,

I am avisid gif hym no mo;

Bot chaunge thi conscience, as I do myn,

Yit teynd thou not thi mesel swyne?

ABELL: If thou teynd right thou mon it fynde.

CAYN: Yei, kys the dwills ars behynde;

The dwill hang the bi the nek!

How that I teynd, never thou rek.

Will thou not yit hold thi peasse?

270 Of this ianglyng I reyde thou seasse.

And teynd I well, or tend I ill,

239 lyys lies 247 rek care deill scrap 248 skabbid scabby 254 saull soul 257 reyde advise 260 skill reason 264 mesel measly

Bere the even and speke bot skill.

Bot now syn thou has teyndid thyne,

Now will I set fyr on myne.

We! Out! Haro! Help to blaw!

It will not bren for me, I traw;

Puf! This smoke dos me mych shame –

Now bren, in the dwillys name!

A! What dwill of hell is it?

280 Almost had myne breth beyn dit.

Had I blawen oone blast more

I had beyn choked right thore;

It stank like the dwill in hell,

That longer ther myght I not dwell.

ABELL: Cam, this is not worth oone leke;

Thy tend shuld bren withoutten smeke.

CAYM: Com kys the dwill right in the ars,

For the it brens bot the wars;

I wold that it were in thi throte,

290 Fyr, and shefe, and ich a sprote.

[God speaks from above.]

DEUS: Cam, whi art thou so rebell

Agans thi brother Abell?

Thar thou nowther flyte ne chyde ¹⁵;

If thou tend right thou gettys thi mede;

And be thou sekir, if thou teynd fals,

Thou bese alowed ther after als.

(19)

CAYM: Whi, who is that Hob-over-the-wall?

We! Who was that that piped so small?

Com, go we hens, for perels all;

300 God is out of hys wit.

Com furth, Abell, and let us weynd;

275 blaw blow 280 dit stopped 285 leke leek 286 smeke smoke 290 ich a every sprote shoot 293 flyte quarrel 296 alowed praised 299 perels perils

Me thynk that God is not my freynd;

On land then will I flyt.

(20)

ABELL: A, Caym, brother, that is ill done.

CAYN: NO, bot go we hens sone;

And if I may, I shall be

Ther as God shall not me see.

ABELL: Dere brother, I will fayre

On feld ther oure bestys ar

310 To looke if thay be holgh or full.

CAYM: Na, na, abide, we have a craw to pull ¹⁶;

Hark, speke with me or thou go;

What, wenys thou to skape so?

We! Na! I aght the a fowll dispyte,

And now is tyme that I hit qwite.

ABELL: Brother, whi art thou so to me in ire?

CAYM: We! Theyf, whi brend thi tend so shyre?

Ther myne did bot smoked

Right as it wold us both have choked.

320 ABELL: Godys will I trow it were

That myn brened so clere;

If thyne smoked am I to wite?

CAYM: We! Yei! That shal thou sore abite;

With cheke bon ¹⁷, or that I blyn,

Shal I the and thi life twyn;

[Cain kills Abel.]

So lig down ther and take thi rest,

Thus shall shrewes be chastysed best.

(21)

ABELL: Veniance, veniance, Lord, I cry!

For I am slayn, and not gilty.

330 CAYN: Yei, ly ther, old shrew, ly ther, ly!

310 holgh empty 314 aght owe 315 qwite repay 317 shyre brightly 322 wite blame 323 abite pay for 326 lig lie

(22)

And if any of you thynk I did amys

I shal it amend wars then it is,

That all men may it se:

Well wars then it is

Right so shall it be.

(23)

Bot now, syn he is broght on slepe,

Into som hole fayn wold I crepe;

For ferd I qwake and can no rede ¹⁸;

For be I taken, I be bot dede.

340 Here will I lig thise fourty dayes,

And I shrew hym that me fyrst rayse.

DEUS: Caym, Caym!

CAYM: Who is that that callis me?

I am yonder, may thou not se?

DEUS: Caym, where is thi brother Abell?

CAYM: What askys thou me? I trow at hell:

At hell I trow he be –

Who so were ther then myght he se –

Or somwhere fallen on slepyng;

When was he in my kepyng?

350 DEUS: Caym, Caym, thou was wode;

The voyce of thi brotherys blode

That thou has slayn, on fals wise,

From erth to heven venyance cryse.

And, for thou has broght thi brother downe,

Here I gif the my malison.

CAYM: Yei, dele aboute the, for I will none,

Or take it the when I am gone ¹⁹.

Syn I have done so mekill syn,

That I may not thi mercy wyn,

360 And thou thus dos me fro thi grace;

I shall hyde me fro thi face.

And where so any man may fynd me,

338 ferd fear 341 shrew (v) curse 355 malison curse

Let hym slo me hardely;

And where so any man may me meyte,

Ayther bi sty, or yit by strete;

And hardely, when I am dede,

Bery me in Gudeboure at the quarell hede ²⁰,

For, may I pas this place in quarte,

Bi all men set I not a fart.

370 DEUS: Nay, Caym, it bese not so;

I will that no man other slo,

For he that sloys yong or old

It shall be punyshid sevenfold.

[Exit Deus.]

CAYM: No force, I wote wheder I shall;

In hell I wote mon be my stall.

It is no boyte mercy to crave,

For if I do I mon none have;

Bot this cors I wold were hid,

For som man myght com at ungayn;

‘Fle, fals shrew!’ wold he bid,

380 And weyn I had my brother slayn.

Bot were Pikeharnes, my knafe, here,

We shuld bery hum both in fere.

How, Pykeharnes! Scape-thryft! How, Pikeharnes, how!

[Enter Garcio.]

GARCIO: Master, master!

CAYN: Harstow, boy? Ther is a podyng in the pot ²¹;

Take the that, boy, tak the that!

[Strikes him.]

GARCIO: I shrew thi ball under thi hode,

If thou were my syre of flesh and blode;

390 All the day to ryn and trott,

And ever amang thou strykeand,

Thus am I comen bofettys to fott.

CAYN: Peas, man, I did it bot to use my hand;

363 slo slay hardely certainly 365 sty path 368 quarte good health 370 bese is 372 sloys slays 376 boyte use 378 cors corpse 379 at ungayn awkwardly 384 Scape-thryft spendthrift 388 ball head 390 trott hurry 391 strykeand striking 392 bofettys blows fott get

(24)

Bot harke, boy, I have a counsell to the to say –

I slogh my brother this same day;

I pray the, good boy, and thou may,

To ryn away with the bayn.

GARCIO: We! Out apon the, there!

Has thou thi brother slayn?

400 CAYM: Peasse, man, for Godys payn!

(25)

I saide it for a skaunce.

GARCIO: Yey, bot for ferde of grevance

Here I the forsake;

We mon have a mekill myschaunce

And the bayles us take.

(26)

CAYM: A, syr, I cry you marcy! Seasse!

And I shall make you a releasse.

GARCIO: What, wilt thou cry my peasse

(27)

Thrughout this land?

CAYM: Yey, that I gif God a vow, belife

410 GARCIO: HOW will thou do long or thou thrife –

CAYM: Stand up, my good boy, belife,

And thaym peasse both man and wife;

(28)

And who so will do after me

Full slape of thrift then shal he be.

Bot thou must be my good boy,

And cry ‘Oyes, oyes, oy ²²!’

GARCIO: Browes, browes to thi boy ²³.

397 bayn bone 401 skaunce joke 405 bayles bailiffs 409 belife quickly 414 slape of thrift cunning with regard to self-preservation 417 Browes broth

(29)

CAYM: I commaund you in the kyngys nayme –

GARCIO: And in my masteres, fals Cayme –

420 CAYM: That no man at thame fynd fawt ne blame –

GARCIO: Yey, cold rost is at my masteres hame.

(30)

CAYM: Nowther with hym nor with his knafe –

GARCIO: What, I hope my master rafe.

CAYM: For thay ar trew, full many fold –

GARCIO: My master suppys no coyle bot cold.

CAYM: The kyng wrytys you untill.

GARCIO: Yit ete I never half my fill.

(31)

CAYM: The kyng will that thay be safe –

GARCIO: Yey, a draght of drynke fayne wold I hayfe.

430 CAYM: At thare awne will let tham wafe –

GARCIO: My stomak is redy to receyfe.

(32)

CAYM: Loke no man say to theym, on nor other –

GARCIO: This same is he that slo his brother.

CAYM: Byd every man thaym luf and lowt –

GARCIO: Yey, ill spon weft ay comes foule out ²⁴.

CAYM: Long or thou get thi hoyse and thou go thus aboute.

(33)

Byd every man theym pleasse to pay.

GARCIO: Yey, gif Don, thyne hors, a wisp of hay!

[Climbs out of reach²⁵.]

CAYM: We! Com downe in twenty dwill way,

440 The dwill I the betake;

421 rost roast 423 rafe raves 424 fold times 425 coyle cabbage 429 hayfe have 430 wafe wander 434 lowt revere 436 hoyse hose 439 dwill devils’ 440 betake give