English Mystery Plays

14. The Second Shepherds’ Play

Incipit Alia Eorundem

TOWNELEY 13

[See the Note to the previous play, pp. 244–5.]

The specific qualities of this play centre upon the remarkable parallel between Mak’s stolen sheep, which becomes a baby in a crib, and the Nativity. Mak and his wife are partly an imitation of the somewhat difficult relationship between Joseph and Mary in other mystery plays. The story of the sheep-stealing is made to prefigure the Nativity in a number of ways. The dead sheep anticipates the live Christ-Child (the Lamb of God). Perhaps drawing upon fertility rituals, the author incorporates the ritual of the death and re-birth which was celebrated at the winter solstice. This seems to be quite specific: at one point Mak is about to be executed for his crime, but instead the Shepherds toss him in a blanket, an act which can be interpreted as a symbolic death similar to the forming of the knot in the sword-dance. But these details are not a contradiction of orthodoxy so much as a wider dimension in which the coming of Christ can be truly interpreted. Even the comedy of the conflict between husband and wife is incorporated as a reflection of true harmony: the comedy is not blasphemy but a skilful dramatic device. This dramatic skill shows itself in other ways – particularly in the craft of keeping the audience in doubt as to whether Mak will give himself away at various crises. His final discovery is the result of unexpected generosity towards the ‘child’ on the part of the Shepherds.

[Scene: field near Bethlehem.]

(1)

I PASTOR: Lord, what these weders ar cold! And I am yll happyd.

I am nere hande dold, so long have I nappyd;

My legys thay fold, my fyngers ar chappyd.

It is not as I wold, for I am al lappyd

In sorow.

In stormes and tempest,

Now in the eest, now in the west,

Wo is hym has never rest

Myd day nor morow!

(2)

10 Bot we sely shepardes ¹ that walkys on the moore,

In fayth we ar nere handys outt of the doore.

No wonder, as it standys, if we be poore,

For the tylthe of oure landys lyys falow as the floore,

As ye ken.

We are so hamyd,

For-taxed and ramyd,

We are mayde hand tamyd

With thys gentlery men ².

(3)

Thus thay refe us oure rest, oure Lady theym wary!

20 These men that ar lord-fest, thay cause the ploghe tary.

That men say is for the best, we fynde it contrary.

Thus ar husbandys opprest, in po[i]nte to myscary

On lyfe.

1 happyd covered 2, 11 nere hande, nere handys near, nearby 2 dold stupid nappyd slept 4 lappyd entangled 10 sely wretched 13 tylthe tilth lyys lies floore floor 15 hamyd hamstrung 16 For-taxed overtaxed ramyd oppressed 17 hand tamyd tame 18 gentlery men gentry 19 refe take away wary curse 20 lord-fest bound to a lord

Thus hold thay us hunder;

Thus thay bryng us in blonder;

It were greatte wonder

And ever shuld we thryfe.

(4)

For may he gett a paynt slefe or a broche now on dayes,

Wo is hym that hym grefe or onys agane says!

30 Dar noman hym reprefe, what mastry he mays ³,

And yit may noman lefe oone word that he says,

No letter.

He can make purveance

With boste and bragance,

And all is thrugh mantenance

Of men that are gretter.

(5)

Ther shall com a swane as prowde as a po,

He must borow my wane, my ploghe also ⁴,

Then I am full fane to graunt or he go.

40 Thus lyf we in payne, anger, and wo,

By nyght and day.

He must have if he langyd,

If I shuld forgang it;

I were better be hangyd ⁵

Then oones say hym nay.

(6)

It dos me good, as I walk thus by myn oone,

Of this warld for to talk in maner of mone.

To my shepe wyll I stalk, and herkyn anone,

Ther abyde on a balk, or sytt on a stone,

50 Full soyne.

24 hunder under 25 blonder trouble 28 paynt painted slefe sleeve broche brooch 30 reprefe reprove 31 lefe believe 33 purveance provision 34 bragrance bragging 35 mantenance maintenance 37 swane serving-man po peacock 42 langyd longed 43 forgang go without 47 mone moan 48 stalk stride 49 balk ridge 50 soyne soon

For I trowe, perde,

Trew men if thay be,

We gett more compane

Or it be noyne.

(7)

[The Second Shepherd enters without noticing the First.]

II PASTOR: Benste and Dominus! What may this bemeyne?

Why fares this warld thus? Oft have we not sene?

Lord, thyse weders ar spytus, and the [wyndys ⁶] full kene,

And the frostys so hydus thay water myn eeyne –

No ly.

60 Now in dry, now in wete,

Now in snaw, now in slete;

When my shone freys to my fete,

It is not all esy.

(8)

Bot as far as I ken, or yit as I go,

We sely wedmen dre mekyll wo;

We have sorow then and then: it fallys oft so.

Sely Copyle ⁷, oure hen, both to and fro

She kakyls;

Bot begyn she to crok,

70 To groyne or [to clo]k,

Wo is hym is of oure cok,

For he is in the shakyls.

(9)

These men that ar wed have not all thare wyll;

When thay ar full hard sted, thay sygh full styll;

God wayte thay ar led full hard and full yll;

In bower nor in bed thay say noght ther tyll,

This tyde.

My parte have I fun;

54 noyne noon 55 bemeyne mean 62 shone shoes freys freeze 65 wedmen married men dre suffer 69 crok croak 70 groyne groan clok cluck 72 shakyls shackles 74 sted placed 75 wayte knows 78 fun found

I know my lesson.

80 Wo is hym that is bun,

For he must abyde.

(10)

Bot now late in oure lyfys a mervell to me,

That I thynk my hart ryfys sich wonders to see.

What that destany dryfys it shuld so be;

Som men wyll have two wyfys and som men thre,

In store;

Som ar wo that has any,

Bot so far can I,

Wo is hym that has many,

90 For he felys sore.

(11)

Bot yong men of wowyng, for God that you boght,

Be well war of wedyng, and thynk in youre thoght,

‘Had I wyst’⁸ is a thyng it servys of noght;

Mekyll styll mowrnyng has wedyng home broght,

And grefys,

With many a sharp showre;

For thou may cach in an owre

That shall [savour] fulle sowre

As long as thou lyffys ⁹.

(12)

100 For, as ever rede I pystyll I have oone to my fere,

As sharp as a thystyll, as rugh as a brere;

She is browyd lyke a brystyll with a sowre-loten chere;

Had she oones wett hyr whystyll she couth syng full clere

Hyr Paternoster.

She is as greatt as a whall;

80 bun bound 83 ryfys splits 90 felys feels, suffers 91 wowyng wooing 94 styll continuous 97 owre hour 100 pystyll Epistle 101 brere briar 102 browyd browed brystyll brisde sowre-loten sourlooking 105 whall whale

She has a galon of gall.

By hym that dyed for us all,

I wald I had ryn to I had lost hir ¹⁰.

(13)

I PASTOR: God looke over the raw!¹¹ Full defly ye stand.

110 II PASTOR: Yee, the dewill in thi maw, so tariand.

Sagh thou awre of Daw?¹²

I PASTOR: Yee, on a ley land

Hard I hym blaw. He commys here at hand,

Not far.

Stand styll.

II PASTOR: Qwhy?

I PASTOR: For he commys, hope I.

II PASTOR: He wyll make us both a ly

Bot if we be war.

(14)

[Enter Third Shepherd.]

III PASTOR: Crystys crosse me spede, and Sant Nycholas!

Ther of had I nede; it is wars then it was.

120 Whoso couthe take hede and lett the warld pas,

It is ever in drede and brekyll as glas,

And slythys.

This warld fowre never so,

With mervels mo and mo,

Now in weyll, now in wo,

And all thyng wrythys.

(15)

Was never syn Noe floode sich floodys seyn;

Wyndys and ranys so rude, and stormes so keyn ¹³;

Som stamerd, som stod in dowte, as I weyn;

106 gall ill-temper 108 ryn run 109 defly as though deaf 111 awre anywhere ley fallow 112 blaw blow 116 ly li e 121 brekyll brittle 122 slythys slips 123 fowre fared 126 wrythys twists

130 Now God turne all to good! I say as I mene,

For ponder.

These floodys so thay drowne,

Both feyldys and in towne,

And berys all downe,

And that is a wonder.

(16)

We that walk on the nyghtys, oure catell to kepe,

We se sodan syghtys when othere men slepe.

Yit me thynk my hart lyghtys; I se shrewys pepe ¹⁴;

Ye ar two all-wyghtys ¹⁵. I wyll gyf my shepe

140 A turne.

Bot full yll have I ment;

As I walk on this bent,

I may lyghtly repent,

My toes if I spurne.

(17)

A, syr, God you save, and master myne!

A drynk fayn wold I have, and somwhat to dyne.

I PASTOR: Crystys curs, my knave, thou art a ledyr hyne!

II PASTOR: What, the boy lyst rave! Abyde unto syne;

We have mayde it ¹⁶.

150 Yll thryft on thy pate!

Though the shrew cam late,

Yit is he in state

To dyne, if he had it.

(18)

III PASTOR: Sich servandys as I, that swettys and swynkys,

Etys oure brede full dry, and that me forthynkys;

We ar oft weytt and wery when master-men wynkys;

Yit commys full lately both dyners and drynkys,

Bot nately.

138 shrewys villains pepe peer 142 bent field 144 spurne strike 147 ledyr lazy hyne servant 154 swettys sweat swynkys labour 155 forthynkys displeases 156 wynkys sleep 158 nately thoroughly

Both oure dame and oure syre,

160 When we have ryn in the myre,

Thay can nyp at oure hyre,

And pay us full lately.

(19)

Bot here my trouth, master: for the fayr that ye make,

I shall do therafter, wyrk as I take;

I shall do a lytyll, syr, and emang ever lake,

For yit lay my soper never on my stomake

In feyldys.

Wherto shuld I threpe?

With my staf can I lepe,

170 And men say ‘Lyght chepe

Letherly for-yeldys.’

(20)

I PASTOR: Thou were an yll lad to ryde on wowyng ¹⁷

With a man that had bot lytyll of spendyng.

II PASTOR: Peasse, boy, I bad. No more iangling,

Or I shall make the full rad, by the hevens kyng!

With thy gawdys –

Wher ar oure shepe, boy? – we skorne.

III PASTOR: Sir, this same day at morne

I thaym left in the corne,

180 When they rang lawdys.

(21)

Thay have pasture good, thay can not go wrong.

I PASTOR: That is right, by the roode! thyse nyghtys ar long,

Yit I wold, or we yode, oone gaf us a song.

II PASTOR: So I thoght as I stode, to myrth us emong.

III PASTOR: I grauntt.

I PASTOR: Lett me syng the tenory.

161 nyp trim 165 lake (v) play 168 threpe wrangle 171 Letherly badly for-yeldys repays 175 rad quickly 176 gawdys tricks 177 skorne despise (the ‘tricks’ in line 176) 180 lawdys first canonical hour or service 183 yode went 186 tenory tenor

II PASTOR: And I tryble so hye.

III PASTOR: Then the meyne fallys to me:

Lett se how ye chauntt.

[They sing.]

Tunc intrat Mak in clamide se super togam vestitus¹⁸.

(22)

190 MAK: Now, Lord, for thy naymes vij, that made both moyn and starnes

Well mo then can I neven thi will, Lorde, of me tharnys;

I am all uneven, that moves oft my harnes.

Now wold God I were in heven, for the[re] wepe no barnes

So styll.

I PASTOR: Who is that pypys so poore?

MAK: Wold God ye wyst how I foore!

Lo, a man that walkys on the moore,

And has not all his wyll!

(23)

II PASTOR: Mak, where has thou gone? Tell us tythyng.

200 III PASTOR: Is he commen? Then ylkon take hede to his thyng.

Et accipit clamidem ab ipso¹⁹.

MAK: What! Ich be a yoman, I tell you, of the king;

The self and the some, sond from a greatt lordyng,

And sich.

Fy on you! Goyth hence

Out of my presence!

I must have reverence;

Why, who be ich?

(24)

I PASTOR: Why make ye it so qwaynt? Mak, ye do wrang.

II PASTOR: Bot, Mak, lyst ye saynt? I trow that ye lang.

210 III PASTOR: I trow the shrew can paynt, the dewyll myght hym hang!

187 tryble treble 188 meyne middle 191 tharnys is lacking 192 harnes brains 195 pypys squeaks 196 foore fared 199 tythyng news 200 ylkon everyone 202 some same sond messenger 208 qwaynt superior 209 saynt appear saintly lang (v) wish (to)

MAK: Ich shall make complaynt, and make you all to thwang

At a worde,

And tell evyn how ye doth.

I PASTOR: Bot, Mak, is that sothe?

Now take outt that sothren tothe ²⁰,

And sett in a torde!

(25)

II PASTOR: Mak, the dewill in youre ee! A stroke wold I leyne you.

III PASTOR: Mak, know ye not me? By God, I couthe teyn you.

MAK: God looke you all thre! Me thoght I had sene you;

Ye ar a fare compane.

220 I PASTOR: Can ye now mene you?

II PASTOR: Shrew, pepe!²¹

Thus late as thou goys,

What wyll men suppos?

And thou has an yll noys

Of stelyng of shepe.

(26)

MAK: And I am trew as steyll, all men waytt,

Bot a sekenes I feyll that haldys me full haytt;

My belly farys not weyll; it is out of astate.

III PASTOR: Seldom lyys the dewyll dede by the gate ²².

230 MAK: Therfor

Full sore am I and yll,

If I stande stone styll;

I ete not an nedyll

Thys moneth and more.

(27)

I PASTOR: How farys thi wyff? By my hoode, how farys sho?²³

MAK: Lyys walteryng, by the roode, by the fyere, lo!

211 thwang be beaten 217 ee eye leyne give 224 noys reputation 226 steyll steel waytt know 227 haytt hot 233 nedyll scrap 236 walteryng sprawling

And a howse fall of brude. She drynkys well, to;

Yll spede othere good that she wyll do!

Bot s[h]o

240 Etys as fast as she can,

And ilk yere that commys to man

She bryngys furth a lakan,

And some yeres two.

(28)

Bot were I not more gracyus and rychere befar,

I were eten outt of howse and of harbar;

Yit is she a fowll dowse, if ye com nar;

Ther is none that trowse nor knowys a war

Then ken I.

Now wyll ye se what I profer,

250 To gyf all in my cofer

To morne at next to offer

Hyr hed mas-penny.

(29)

II PASTOR: I wote so forwakyd is none in this shyre:

I wold slepe if I takyd les to my hyere.

III PASTOR: I am cold and nakyd, and wold have a fyere.

I PASTOR: I am wery, for-rakyd, and run in the myre.

Wake thou!

II PASTOR: Nay, I wyll lyg downe by,

For I must slepe truly.

260 III PASTOR: As good a mans son was I

As any of you.

(30)

Bot, Mak, com heder! Betwene shall thou lyg downe.

[Mak lies down with the Shepherds.]

MAK: Then myght I lett you bedene of that ye wold rowne ²⁴,

237 brude children 239 sho she 242 lakan baby 246 dowse wench 247 war worse 252 hed mas-penny penny for mass of the dead 253 forwakyd tired 254 les less 256 for-rakyd exhausted 263 lett hinder bedene at once rowne whisper

No drede.

Fro my top to my too,

Manus tuas commendo,

Poncio Pilato²⁵;

Cryst crosse me spede!

Tunc surgit, pastoribus dormientibus, et dicit²⁶

(31)

Now were tyme for a man that lakkys what he wold

270 To stalk prevely than unto a fold,

And neemly to wyrk than, and be not to bold,

For he might aby the bargan, if it were told

At the endyng.

Now were tyme for to reyll;

Bot he nedys good counsell

That fayn wold fare weyll,

And has bot lytyll spendyng.

(32)

Bot abowte you a serkyll ^27, as rownde as a moyn,

To I have done that I wyll, tyll that it be noyn,

280 That ye lyg stone styll to that I have doyne,

And I shall say thertyll of good wordys a foyne.

‘On hight

Over youre hedys my hand I lyft;

Outt go youre een! Fordo your syght!’

Bot yit I must make better shyft,

And it be right.

(33)

Lord, what thay slepe hard! That may ye all here;

Was I never a shephard, bot now wyll I lere ²⁸.

If the flok be skard, yit shall I nyp nere.

290 How, drawes hederward! Now mendys oure chere

271 neemly nimbly 272 aby buy 274 reyll revel 278 serkyll circle 279 noyn noon 281 foyne few 284 Fordo destroy 289 skard scared 290 drawes come

From sorow:

A fatt shepe, I dar say,

A good flese, dar I lay,

Eft-whyte when I may ²⁹,

Bot this will I borow.

[Mak goes home to his wife.]

(34)

How, Gyll, art thou in? Gett us som lyght.

UXOR EIUS: Who makys sich dyn this tyme of the nyght?

I am sett for to spyn; I hope not I myght

Ryse a penny to wyn, I shrew them on hight!³⁰

300 So farys

A huswyff that has bene

To be rasyd thus betwene:

Here may no note be sene

For sich small charys.

(35)

MAK: Good wyff, open the hek! Seys thou not what I bryng?

UXOR: I may thole the dray the snek. A, com in, my swetyng!

MAK: Yee, thou thar not rek of my long standyng.

UXOR: By the nakyd nek art thou lyke for to hyng.

MAK: Do way:

310 I am worthy my mete,

For in a strate can I gett

More then thay that swynke and swette

All the long day.

(36)

Thus it fell to my lott, Gyll, I had sich grace.

UXOR: It were a fowll blott to be hanged for the case.

MAK: I have skapyd, Ielott, oft as hard a glase.

UXOR: Bot so long goys the pott to the water, men says,

293 flese fleece 302 rasyd disturbed 303 note scrap 304 charys chores 305 hek inner door 306 thole allow dray pull snek latch 307 rek care 308 hyng hang 311 strate strait 316 Ielott Gill glase blow 317 goys goes

At last

Comys it home broken ³¹.

320 MAK: Well knowe I the token,

Bot let it never be spoken;

Bot come and help fast.

(37)

I wold he were flayn; I lyst well ete:

This twelmothe was I not so fayn of oone shepe mete.

UXOR: Com thay or he be slayn, and here the shepe blete –

MAK: Then myght I be tane. That were a cold swette!

Go spar

The gaytt-doore.

UXOR: Yis, Mak,

For and thay com at thy bak –

330 MAK: Then myght I by, for all the pak ³²,

The dewill of the war.

(38)

UXOR: A good bowrde have I spied, syn thou can none.

Here shall we hym hyde to thay be gone;

In my credyll abyde. Lett me alone,

And I shall lyg besyde in chylbed, and grone.

MAK: Thou red;

And I shall say thou was lyght

Of a knave childe this nyght.

UXOR: Now well is me day bright,

340 That ever was I bred.

(39)

This is a good gyse and a far cast;

Yit a woman avyse helpys at the last.

I wote never who spyse, agane go thou fast.

MAK: Bot I come or thay ryse, els blawes a cold blast!³³

I wyll go slepe.

323 flayn skinned 325 or before 326 swette sweat 327 spar fasten 328 gaytt-dore outer door 331 the thee war (v) care 332 bowrde trick 334 credyll cradle 336 red get ready 341 gyse way 343 agane back

[Mak returns to the Shepherds and lies down.]

Yit slepys all this meneye,

And I shall go stalk prevely

As it had never bene I

That caryed thare shepe.

(40)

350 I PASTOR: Resurrex a mortruis!³⁴ Have hald my hand.

Iudas carnas dominus!³⁴ I may not well stand:

My foytt slepys, by Ihesus, and I water fastand.

I thoght that we had layd us full nere Yngland.

II PASTOR: A ye!

Lord, what I have slept weyll;

As fresh as an eyll,

As lyght I me feyll

As leyfe on a tre.

(41)

III PASTOR: Benste be here in! So my [hart] qwakys,

360 My hart is outt of skyn ³⁵, what so it makys.

Who makys all this dyn? So my browes blakys

To the dowore wyll I wyn. Harke, felows, wakys!

We were fowre:

Se ye awre of Mak now?

I PASTOR: We were up or thou.

II PASTOR: Man, I gyf God a vowe,

Yit yede he nawre.

(42)

III PASTOR: Me thoght he was lapt in a wolfe skyn ³⁶.

I PASTOR: So are many hapt now namely within.

370 II PASTOR ³⁷: When we had long napt, me thoght with a gyn

A fatt shepe he trapt, bot he mayde no dyn.

III PASTOR³⁷: Be styll:

352 foytt foot water stagger fastand fasting 356 eyll eel 358 leyfe leaf 361 blakys darkens 362 dowore door 367 yede went nawre nowhere 368 lapt wrapped 369 hapt covered 370 gyn trap

Thi dreme makys the woode:

It is bot fantom, by the roode.

I PASTOR: Now God turne all to good,

If it be his wyll.

(43)

II PASTOR: Ryse, Mak, for shame! Thou lygys right lang.

MAK: Now Crystys holy name be us emang!

What is this? For Sant Iame, I may not well gang!

380 I trow I be the same. A, my nek has lygen wrang

Enoghe.

Mekill thanks syn yister even,

Now, by Sant S[t]evyn,

I was flayd with a swevyn,

My hart out of sloghe.

(44)

I thoght Gyll began to crok and travell full sad,

Welner at the fyrst cok, of a yong lad

For to mend our flok. Then be I never glad;

I have tow on my rok more then ever I had.

390 A, my heede!

A house full of yong tharmes;

The dewill knok outt thare harnes!

Wo is hym has many barnes,

And therto lytyll brede!

(45)

I must go home, by youre lefe, to Gyll, as I thoght.

I pray you looke my slefe ³⁸ that I steyll noght:

I am loth you to grefe, or from you take oght.

III PASTOR: Go furth, yll might thou chefe! Now wold I we soght,

This morne,

400 That we had all oure store.

380 lygen lain 384 flayd frightened swevyn dream 385 sloghe skin 387 Welner well nigh 389 tow flax rok distaff 391 tharmes children 392 harnes brains 394 brede bread 396 slefe sleeve 398 chefe fare

I PASTOR: Bot I will go before;

Let us mete.

II PASTOR: Whore?

III PASTOR: At the crokyd thorne.

[The Shepherds leave. Mak knocks at his door.]

(46)

MAK: Undo this doore! Who is here? How long shall I stand?

UXOR EIUS: Who makys sich a bere? Now walk in the wenyand.

MAK: A, Gyll, what chere? It is I, Mak, youre husbande.

UXOR: Then may we be here the dewill in a bande,

Syr Gyle ³⁹:

Lo, he commys with a lote

410 As he were holden in the throte.

I may not syt at my note,

A hand-lang while.

(47)

MAK: Wyll ye here what fare she makys to gett hir a glose?

And dos noght bot lakys and clowse hir toose.

UXOR: Why, who wanders, who wakys? Who commys, who gose?

Who brewys, who bakys? What makys me thus hose?

And than,

It is rewthe to beholde,

Now in hote, now in colde,

420 Full wofull is the householde

That wantys a woman.

(48)

Bot what ende has thou mayde with the hyrdys, Mak?

MAK: The last worde that thay sayde when I turnyd my bak,

Thay wold looke that thay hade thare shepe, all the pak.

402 Whore where 405 bere noise wenyand time of ill luck 409 lote noise 411 note work 412 hand-lang little 413 gett hir a glose make up an excuse 414 lakys plays about clowse scratches toose toes 416 hose hoarse

I hope thay wyll nott be well payde when thay thare shepe lak ⁴⁰,

Perde!

Bot how so the gam gose,

To me thay wyll suppose,

And make a fowll noyse,

430 And cry outt apon me.

(49)

Bot thou must do as thou hyght.

UXOR: I accorde me thertyll.

I shall swedyll hym right in my credyll;

If it were a gretter slyght, yit couthe I help tyll.

I wyll lyg downe stright. Com hap me.

MAK: I wyll.

UXOR: Behynde!

Com Coll ⁴¹ and his maroo,

Thay will nyp us full naroo.

MAK: Bot I may cry out ‘Haroo!’

The shepe if thay fynde.

(50)

440 UXOR: Harken ay when thay call; thay will com onone.

Com and make redy all and syng by thyn oone;

Syng ‘lullay’ thou shall, for I must grone,

And cry outt by the wall on Mary and Iohn ⁴²,

For sore.

Syng ‘lullay’ on fast

When thou heris at the last;

And bot I play a fals cast,

Trust me no more.

(51)

[At the crooked thorn.]

III PASTOR: A, Coll, goode morne. Why slepys thou nott?

431 thertyll to that 432 swedyll wrap 433 slyght trick 434 hap cover 436 maroo mate 437 nyp pinch naroo hard 440 onone soon 446 heris hear 447 cast trick

450 I PASTOR: Alas, that ever was I borne! We have a fowll blott.

A fat wedir have we lorne.

III PASTOR: Mary, Godys forbott!

II PASTOR: Who shuld do us that skorne? That were a fowll spott.

I PASTOR: Som shrewe.

I have soght with my dogys

All Horbery ⁴³ shrogys,

And of xv hogys

Fond I bot oone ewe.

(52)

III PASTOR: Now trow me, if ye will, by Sant Thomas of Kent,

Ayther Mak or Gyll was at that assent.

460 I PASTOR: Peasse, man, be still! I sagh when he went;

Thou sklanders hym yll; thou aght to repent,

Goode spede.

II PASTOR: Now as ever myght I the,

If I shuld evyn here de,

I wold say it were he,

That dyd that same dede.

(53)

III PASTOR: Go we theder, I rede, and ryn on oure feete.

Shall I never ete brede the sothe to I wytt.

I PASTOR: Nor drynk in my heede with hym tyll I mete.

470 II PASTOR: I wyll rest in no stede tyll that I hym grete,

My brothere.

Oone I will hight:

Tyll I se hym in sight

Shall I never slepe one nyght

Ther I do anothere.

451 lorne lost forbott forbid 455 shrogys bushes 459 assent affair 461 sklanders slanders 463 the thrive 464 de die 472 Oone one hight promise

(54)

[They approach Mak’s house.]

III PASTOR: Will ye here how thay hak?⁴⁴ Oure syre lyst croyne.

I PASTOR: Hard I never none crak so clere out of toyne;

Call on hym.

II PASTOR: Mak, undo youre doore soyne.

MAK: Who is that spak, as it were noyne

480 On loft?

Who is that, I say?

III PASTOR: Goode felowse, were it day.

MAK: AS far as ye may,

Good, spekys soft,

(55)

Over a seke womans heede that is at mayll-easse;

I had lever be dede or she had any dyseasse.

UXOR: Go to an-othere stede! I may not well qweasse.

Ich fote that ye trede goys thorow my nese,

So hee!

490 I PASTOR: Tell us, Mak, if ye may,

How fare ye, I say?

MAK: Bot ar ye in this towne to-day?

Now how fare ye?

(56)

Ye have ryn in the myre, and ar weytt yit:

I shall make you a fyre, if ye will syt.

A nores wold I hyre. Thynk ye on yit,

Well qwytt is my hyre ⁴⁵ – my dreme this is itt –

A seson.

I have barnes, if ye knew,

500 Well mo then enewe,

476 hak sing lyst wishes croyne croon 477 toyne tune 479 noyne noon 480 On loft on high 485 mayll-ease sickness 487 qweasse breathe 488 fote step nese nose 489 hee loudly 496 nores nurse 500 enewe enough

Bot we must drynk as we brew,

And that is bot reson.

(57)

I wold ye dynyd or ye yode. Me thynk that ye swette.

II PASTOR: Nay, nawther mendys oure mode drynke nor mette.

MAK: Why, syr, alys you oght bot goode?

III PASTOR: Yee, oure shepe that we gett,

Ar stollyn as thay yode. Oure los is grette.

MAK: Syrs, drynkys!

Had I bene thore,

Som shuld have boght it full sore.

510 I PASTOR: Mary, som men trowes that ye wore,

And that us forthynkys ⁴⁶.

(58)

II PASTOR: Mak, some men trowys that it shuld be ye.

III PASTOR: Ayther ye or youre spouse, so say we.

MAK: Now if ye have suspowse to Gill or to me,

Com and rype oure howse, and then may ye se

Who had hir;

If I any shepe fott,

Ayther cow or stott;

And Gyll, my wife, rose nott

520 Here syn she lade hir.

(59)

As I am true and lele, to God here I pray,

That this be the fyrst mele that I shall ete this day.

I PASTOR: Mak, as have I ceyll, avyse the, I say;

He lernyd tymely ⁴⁷ to steyll that couth not say nay.

UXOR: I swelt!

Outt, thefys, fro my wonys!

504 mendys soothes mode temper 505 alys ails 515 rype search 517 fott brought 518 stott heifer 523 ceyll happiness 525 swelt die 526 wonys home

Ye com to rob us for the nonys.

MAK: Here ye not how she gronys?

Youre hartys shuld melt.

(60)

530 UXOR: Outt, thefys, fro my barne! Negh hym not thor!

MAK: Wyst ye how she had farne, youre hartys wold be sore.

Ye do wrang, I you warne, that thus commys before

To a woman that has farne – bot I say no more.

UXOR: A, my medyll!

I pray to God so mylde,

If ever I you begyld,

That I ete ⁴⁸ this chylde

That lygys in this credyll.

(61)

MAK: Peasse, woman, for Godys payn, and cry not so:

540 Thou spyllys thy brane, and makys me full wo.

II PASTOR: I trow oure shepe be slayn. What fynde ye two?

III PASTOR: All wyrk we in vayn; as well may we go.

Bot hatters,

I can fynde no flesh,

Hard nor nesh,

Salt nor fresh,

Bot two tome platers.

(62)

Whik catell bot this, tame nor wylde,

None, as have I blys, as lowde as he smylde.

550 UXOR: No, so God me blys, and gyf me ioy of my chylde!

I PASTOR: We have merkyd amys; I hold us begyld.

II PASTOR: Syr, don,

Syr, oure Lady hym save,

Is youre chyld a knave?

530 Negh approach thor there 538 lygys lies 543 hatters (mild oath) 545 nesh soft 547 tome empty 548 Whik living 549 smylde smelt 552 don (it is) agreed

MAK: Any lord myght hym have

This chyld to his son.

(63)

When he wakyns he kyppys, that ioy is to se.

III PASTOR: In good tyme to hys hyppys, and in cele.

Bot who was his gossyppys, so sone rede?

MAK: so fare fall thare lyppys!

560 I PASTOR: Hark now, ale.

MAK: SO God thaym thank,

Parkyn, and Gybon Waller, I say,

And gentill Iohn Horne ⁴⁹, in good fay,

He made all the garray,

With the greatt shank.

(64)

II PASTOR: Mak, freyndys will we be, for we ar all oone.

MAK: We? Now I hald for me, for mendys gett I none.

Fare well all thre! All glad were ye gone.

[The Shepherds depart.]

III PASTOR: Fare wordys may ther be, bot luf is ther none

570 This yere.

I PASTOR: Gaf ye the chyld any thyng?

II PASTOR: I trow not oone farthyng.

III PASTOR: Fast agane will I flyng,

Abyde ye me there.

[Returns to the house.]

(65)

Mak, take it to no grefe if I come to thi barne.

MAK: Nay, thou dos me greatt reprefe, and fowll has thou farne.

III PASTOR: The child will it not grefe, that lytyll daystarne ⁵⁰.

Mak, with youre leyfe, let me gyf youre barne

557 kyppys snatches 558 hyppys hips cele good luck 559 gossyppys god-parents rede ready 560 le lie 564 garray noise 565 shank leg 567 mendys profit 573 flyng run 577 day-starne day star

Bot vj pence.

580 MAK: Nay, do way: he slepys.

III PASTOR: Me thynk he pepys.

MAK: When he wakyns he wepys.

I pray you go hence.

[The other Shepherds return.]

(66)

III PASTOR: Gyf me lefe hym to kys, and lyft up the clowtt.

What the dewill is this? He has a long snowte.

I PASTOR: He is merkyd amys. We wate ill abowte.

II PASTOR: Ill-spon weft, iwys, ay commys foull owte.

Ay, so!

He is lyke to oure shepe!

590 III PASTOR: How, Gyb ⁵¹, may I pepe?

I PASTOR: I trow kynde will crepe

Where it may not go ⁵².

(67)

II PASTOR: This was a qwantt gawde, and a far cast.

It was a hee frawde.

III PASTOR: Yee, syrs, wast ⁵³.

Lett bren this bawde, and bynd hir fast.

A fals skawde hang at the last;

So shall thou.

Wyll ye see how thay swedyll

His foure feytt in the medyll?

600 Sagh I never in a credyll

A hornyd lad ⁵⁴ or now.

(68)

MAK: Peasse byd I. What, lett be youre fare;

I am he that hym gatt, and yond woman hym bare.

I PASTOR: What dewill shall he hatt, Mak? Lo, God, Makys ayre.

584 clowtt clothes 586 wate watch 587 Ill-spon badly spun 593 qwantt crafty gawde trick cast trick 595 bren burn 596 skawde scold 598 swedyll wrap 604 hatt be called ayre heir

II PASTOR: Lett be all that. Now God gyf hym care,

I sagh.

UXOR: A pratty child is he

As syttys on a wamans kne;

A dyllydowne, perde,

610 To gar a man laghe.

(69)

III PASTOR: I know hym by the eere marke: that is a good tokyn.

MAK: I tell you, syrs, hark! – hys noyse was brokyn.

Sythen told me a clerk that he was forspokyn.

I PASTOR: This is a fals wark; I wold fayn be wrokyn.

Gett wepyn.

UXOR: He was takyn with an elfe;

I saw it myself.

When the clok stroke twelf

Was he forshapyn.

(70)

620 II PASTOR ⁵⁵: Ye two ar well feft sam in a stede.

III PASTOR⁵⁵: Syn thay manteyn thare theft, let do thaym to dede.

MAK: If I trespas eft, gyrd of my heede.

With you will I be left.

I PASTOR: Syrs, do my reede.

For this trespas,

We will nawther ban ne flyte,

Fyght nor chyte,

Bot have done as tyte,

And cast hym in canvas ⁵⁶.

[They toss Mak in a sheet.]

606 sagh saw 609 dyllydowne darling 610 gar make 613 forspokyn bewitched 614 wrokyn avenged 619 forshapyn changed 620 feft endowed 622 eft again gyrd cut 625 ban curse flyte quarrel 626 chyte chide

(71)

Lord, what I am sore, in poynt for to bryst.

630 In fayth I may no more; therfor wyll I ryst.

II PASTOR: As a shepe of vij skore ⁵⁷ he weyd in my fyst.

For to slepe ay-whore me thynk that I lyst.

III PASTOR: Now I pray you,

Lyg downe on this grene.

I PASTOR: On these thefys yit I mene.

III PASTOR: Wherto shuld ye tene?

Do as I say you.

[The Shepherds sleep.]

Angelus contat ‘Gloria in excelsis’; postea dicat⁵⁸

(72)

ANGELUS: Ryse, hyrd-men heynd! For now is he borne

That shall take fro the feynd that Adam had lorne;

640 That warloo to sheynd, this nyght is he borne.

God is made youre freynd now at this morne.

He behestys

At Bedlem go se:

Ther lygys that fre

In a cryb full poorely,

Betwyx two bestys.

(73)

I PASTOR: This was a qwant stevyn that ever yit I hard.

It is a mervell to nevyn, thus to be skard.

II PASTOR: Of Godys son of hevyn he spak upward.

650 All the wod on a levyn me thoght that he gard

Appere.

III PASTOR: He spake of a barne

In Bedlem, I you warne.

I PASTOR: That betokyns yond starne.

Let us seke hym there.

629 in poynt on the point of bryst burst 630 ryst rest 632 ay-whore anywhere 636 tene be annoyed 638 heynd gentle 640 warloo devil sheynd destroy 644 fre lord 648 nevyn mention skard scared 649 upward above 650 wod wood levyn lightning gard caused to

(74)

II PASTOR: Say, what was his song? Hard ye not how he crakyd it?

Thre brefes to a long.

III PASTOR: Yee, mary, he hakt it.

Was no crochett wrong, nor no thyng that lakt it.

I PASTOR: For to syng us emong right as he knakt it,

660 I can.

II PASTOR: Let se how ye croyne.

Can ye bark at the mone?

III PASTOR: Hold youre tonges, have done!

I PASTOR: Hark after than.

[Sings.]

(75)

II PASTOR: To Bedlem he bad that we shuld gang:

I am full fard that we tary to lang.

III PASTOR: Be mery and not sad; of myrth is oure sang;

Ever-lastyng glad to mede may we fang,

Withoutt noyse.

670 I PASTOR: Hy we theder for-thy;

If we be wete and wery,

To that chyld and that lady,

We have it not to lose.

(76)

II PASTOR: We fynde by the prophecy – let be youre dyn ⁵⁹ –

Of David and Isay, and mo then I myn,

Thay prophecyed by clergy that in a vyrgyn

Shuld he lyght and ly, to slokyn oure syn

And slake it,

Oure kynde from wo;

680 For Isay sayd so,

656 crakyd roared 657 brefes short notes long long note hakt sang 659 knakt sang 668 fang get 669 noyse harm 670 for-thy therefore 671 wete wet 675 myn remember 677 lyght descend ly lie slokyn suppress 678 slake remove

Ecce virgo

Concipiet⁶⁰ a chylde that is nakyd.

(77)

III PASTOR: Full glad may we be, and abyde that day

That lufly to se, that all myghtys may.

Lord, well were me, for ones and for ay,

Myght I knele on my kne, som word for to say

To that chylde.

Bot the angell sayd

In a cryb was he layde;

690 He was poorly arayd,

Both mener and mylde.

(78)

I PASTOR: Patryarkes that has bene, and prophetys beforne,

Thay desyryd to have sene this chylde that is borne.

Thay ar gone full clene, that have thay lorne.

We shall se hym, I weyn, or it be morne,

To tokyn.

When I se hym and fele,

Then wote I full weyll

It is true as steyll

700 That prophetys have spokyn:

(79)

To so poore as we ar that he wold appere,

Fyrst fynd, and declare by his messyngere.

II PASTOR: Go we now, let us fare; the place is us nere.

III PASTOR: I am redy and yare; go we in fere

To that bright.

Lord, if thi wylles be,

We are lewde all thre,

Thou grauntt us somkyns gle

To comforth thi wight.

[They enter the stable.]

684 lufly beautiful person 691 mener poor 696 tokyn proof 704 yare prepared 707 lewde ignorant 708 somkyns some kind of gle joy

(80)

710 I PASTOR: Hayll, comly and clene! Hayll, yong child!

Hayll, maker, as I meyne, of a madyn so mylde!

Thou has waryd, I weyne, the warlo so wylde;

The fals gyler of teyn ⁶¹ now goys he begylde.

Lo, he merys!

Lo, he laghys, my swetyng!

A wel fare metyng!

I have holden my hetyng;

Have a bob of cherys ⁶².

(81)

II PASTOR: Hayll, sufferan savyoure, for thou has us soght!

720 Hayll, frely foyde and floure, that all thyng has wroght!

Hayll, full of favoure, that made all of noght!

Hayll! I kneyll and I cowre. A byrd have I broght

To my barne.

Hayll, lytyll tyne mop!

Of oure crede thou art crop:

I wold drynk on thy cop,

Lytyll day starne.

(82)

III PASTOR: Hayll, derlyng dere, full of Godhede!

I pray the be nere when that I have nede.

730 Hayll, swete is thy chere! My hart wold blede

To se the sytt here in so poore wede,

With no pennys.

Hayll, put furth thy dall!

I bryng the bot a ball:

Have and play the with all,

And go to the tenys.

712 waryd cursed 717 hetyng promise 718 bob bunch cherys cherries 720 frely noble foyde child floure flower 724 tyne tiny mop baby 726 cop cup 731 wede clothing 733 dall hand 736 tenys tennis