"Everyman," With Other Interludes, Including Eight Miracle Plays Part 35

_Rybald._ Yee hens fast I red[510] thou go, And melle[511] the not with us.

_Belzabub._ Oure yates[512] I trow wille last, Thay ar so strong I weyn,[513]

Bot if oure barres brast, For the, thay shalle not twyn.[514]

_Jesus._ This stede[515] shalle stande no longer stokyn;[516]

Open up and let my pepille pas.

_Rybald._ Out, harro![517] oure baylle is brokyn,[518]

And brusten ar alle oure bandes of bras.

_Belzabub._ Harro! oure yates begyn to crak, In sonder, I trow, thay go, And h.e.l.le, I trow, wille all to-shak; Alas, what I am wo![519]

_Rybald._ Lymbo is lorn, alas!

Sir Sathanas, com up!

This wark is wars[520] than it was.

_Sathanas._ Yee, hangyd be thou on a cruke;[521]

Thefys, I bad ye shuld be bowne[522]

If he maide mastres[523] more To dyng[524] that dastard downe, Sett[525] hym bothe sad and sore.

_Belzabub._ "So sett hym sore" that is sone saide.

Com thou thi self and serve hym so; We may not abyde his bytter bradye,[526]

He wold us mar and we were mo.[527]

_Sathanas._ Fy, fature![528] wherfore were ye flayd?[529]

Have ye no force to flyt hym fro?

Loke in haste my gere be grayd,[530]

My self shalle to that gadlyng go.[531]

How, thou belamy, abyde,[532]

Withe alle thi boste and beyr,[533]

And telle me in this tyde What mastres[523] thou makes here.

_Jesus._ I make no mastry bot for myne, I wille theym save, that shalle the sow, Thou has no powere theym to pyne,[534]

Bot in my pryson for thare prow[535]

Here have thay sojornyd,--not as thyne, Bot in thi wayrd,[536] thou wote as how.

_Sathanas._ Why, where has thou hene ay syn[537]

That never wold neghe[538] theym nere e'er now?

_Jesus._ Now is the tyme certan My Fader ordand herfor,[539]

That they shuld pas fro payn In blys to dwelle for ever more.

_Sathanas._ Thy fader knew I welle by syght, He was a wright his meett to wyn,[540]

Mary, me mynnys,[541] thi moder hight, The utmast ende of alle thy kyn:

Say who made the so mekille[542] of myght?

_Jesus._ Thou wykyd feynde lett be thi dy[n], My Fader wonnes[543] in heven on hight, In blys that never more shalle blyn:[544]

I am his oonly son his forward[545] to fulfylle, Togeder wille we won, in sonder when we wylle.

_Sathanas._ G.o.ddes son! nay, then myght thou be glad For no catelle thurt the crave;[546]

Bot thou has lyffed ay lyke a lad, In sorow, and as a sympille[547] knave.

_Jesus._ That was for the hartly[548] luf I had Unto man's saulle, it for to save, And for to make thee masyd[549] and mad, And for that reson rufully to rafe.[550]

My G.o.dhede here I hyd In Mary, moder myne, Where it shalle never be kyd[551]

To the, ne none of thyne.[552]

_Sathanas._ How now? this wold I were told in towne, Thou says G.o.d is thi syre; I shalle the prove by good reson Thou moyttes[553] as man dos into myre.

To breke thi byddyng they were fulle bowne,[554]

And soon they wroght at my desyre, From paradise thou putt thym downe, In h.e.l.le here to have thare hyre;[555]

And thou thi self, by day and nyght, Taght[556] ever alle men emang, Ever to do reson and right, And here thou wyrkys[557] alle wrang.

_Jesus._ I wyrk no wrang, that shalle thou wytt.[558]

If I my men fro wo wille wyn;[559]

My prophettes playnly prechyd it, Alle the noytys[560] that I begyn;

They saide that I shud be that ilke In h.e.l.le where I shud entre in, To save my servandes fro that pytt Where dampynyd saullys[561] shalle syt for syn.

And ilke true prophete taylle[562]

Shalle be fulfillid in me; I have thaym boght fro baylle,[563]

In blis now shalle thay be.

_Sathanas._ Now since thou list to legge the lawes[564]

Thou shalbe tenyd or we twyn,[565]

For those that thou to witnes drawes Fulle even agans the shalle begyn;

As Salaman saide in his sawes,[566]

Who that ones commys h.e.l.le within He shalle never owte, as clerkes knawes Therfor, belamy, let be thy dyn.[567]

Job thi servande also In his tyme can telle That nawder freynde nor fo Shalle fynde relese in h.e.l.le.[568]

_Jesus._ He sayde fulle soythe, that shalle thou se, In h.e.l.le shalbe no relese, Bot of that place then ment he Where synfulle care shalle ever encrese.

In that baylle ay shalle thou be, Where sorrowes seyr shalle never sesse[569]

And my folk that wer most fre[570]

Shalle pas unto the place of pea.s.se;

For thay were here with my wille, And so thay shalle furthe weynde,[571]

Thou shalle thi self fulfylle, Ever wo withoutten ende.

_Sathanas._ Whi, and wille thou take theym alle me fro?[572]

Then thynk me[573] thou ar unkynde; Nay, I pray the do not so, Umthynke[574] the better in thy mynde,