"Everyman," With Other Interludes, Including Eight Miracle Plays Part 27

_1st Torturer._ Up with the timber.

_2nd Torturer._ Ah, it holds!

For him, that all this world wields, Put from thee, with thy hand.

_3rd Torturer._ Hold even! amongst us all.

_4th Torturer._ Yea, and let it into the mortise fall, For then will it best stand.

_1st Torturer._ Go we to it, and be we strong, And raise it, be it never so long, Since that it is fast bound.

_2nd Torturer._ Up with the timber fast on ende.

_3rd Torturer._ Ah fellows, fair fall now your hende.

_4th Torturer._ So, sir, gape against the sun!

[_To Christ._

_1st Torturer._ Ah, fellow, wear thy crown!

_2nd Torturer._ Trowest thou this timber will come down?

_3rd Torturer._ Yet help, to make it fast.

_4th Torturer._ Bind him well, and let us lift.

_1st Torturer._ Full short shall be his thrift.

_2nd Torturer._ Ah, it stands up like a mast.

_Jesus._ I pray you, people, that pa.s.s me by, That lead your life so lykandly[304]

Raise up your heart on high; Behold if ever ye saw body Buffet[305] and beaten thus b.l.o.o.d.y, Or dight thus dolefully; In this world was never no wight That suffered half so sair.

My mayn,[306] my mode,[307] my might Is naught but sorrow to sight, And comfort--none but care!

My folk, what have I done to thee That thou all thus shall torment me?

Thy sin bear I full soon.

How have I grieved thee? answer me.

That thou thus nailest me to a tree, And all for thine error.

Where shalt thou seek succour?

This fault how shalt thou amende When that thou thy saviour Drivest to this dishonour And nail'st through feet and hende.[308]

All creatures whose kinds may be trest,[309]

Beasts and birds, they all have rest When they are woe begone.

But G.o.d's own son, that should be best, Has not whereon his head to rest, But on his shoulder bone: To whom now may I make my moan When they thus martyr me?

And sackless[310] will me slone,[311]

And beat me blood and bone, That should my brethren be?

What kindness should I kythe[312] them to?

Have I not done what I ought to do, Made thee in my likeness?

And thou thus rives my rest and ro[313]

And thinkest lightly on me, lo, Such is thy caitifness.

I have shown thee kindness, unkindly thou me 'quitest,[314]

See thus thy wickedness, look how thou me despitest.

Guiltless thus am I put to pine, Not for my sin, man, but for thine.

Thus am I rent on rood; For I that treasure would not tyne[315]

That I marked and made for mine.

Thus buy I Adam's blood, That sunken was in sin, With none earthly good, But with my flesh and blood That loath was for to wyn.[316]

My brother, that I came for to buy, Has hanged me here, thus hideously, Friends find I few or none; Thus have they dight me drearily, And all be-spit me piteously, A helpless man in wone.[317]

But, Father, that sittest on throne, Forgive thou them this guilt.

I pray to thee this boon-- They know not what they doon, Nor whom they thus have spoilt![318]

_1st Torturer._ Yes, what we do full well we know.

_2nd Torturer._ Yes, that shall he find within a throw.

_3rd Torturer._ Now, with a mischance to his corse!

Wenys[319] he that we give any force[320]

What evil so ever he ail?

_4th Torturer._ For he would tarry us all day, Of his death to make delay, I tell you sans fail.

_1st Torturer._ Lift we this tree amongst us all.

_2nd Torturer._ Yea, and let it into the mortise fall And that shall make him brest.[321]

_3rd Torturer._ Yea, and all to rive him, limb from limb.

_4th Torturer._ And it will break each joint in him; Let see now, who does best?

_Mary._ Alas, the dole I dree![322] I droop, I go in dread.

Why hang'st thou, son, so high? my woe begins to breed, All blemished is thy ble,[323] I see thy body bleed, In the world, my son, we were never so woe, as now in weed.[324]

My food[325] that I have fed, In life--longing thee led!

Full straight art thou bestead Among these foemen fell: Such sorrow for to see.

My dearest child, on thee, Is more mourning to me Than any tongue may tell.

Alas! thy holy head Has not whereon to held[326]

Thy face with blood is red, Was fair as flower in field; How should I stand in stead![327]

To see my bairn thus bleed, Beaten as blo[328] as lead.

And has no limb to wield?

Fastened both hands and feet, With nalys[329] full unmeet, His wounds all wringing wet.

Alas, my child, for care!

For all rent is thy hide, I see on either side Tears of blood down glide Over all thy body bare.

Alas that ever I should bide, and see my feyr[330] thus fare!

_John._ Alas, for dule, my lady dear!

All for changed is thy cheer, To see this prince without a peer, Thus lapped all in woe; He was thy food, thy fairest foine,[331]

Thy love, thy like,[332] thy lovesome son, That high on tree thus hangs alone With body black and blo,[333] alas!

To me and many mo,[334]

A good master he was.

But, lady, since it is his will The prophecy to fulfil, That mankind in sin not spill,[335]

For them to thole[336] the pain; And with his death ransom to make, As prophets before of him spake.