Ludus Coventriæ

by Unknown

VIII. THE BARRENNESS OF ANNA.

Contemplacio. Cryst conserve this congregacion

Fro perellys past, present, and future,

And the personys here pleand, that the pronunciacion

Of here sentens to be seyd mote be sad and sure.

And that non oblocucyon make this matere obscure,

But it may profite and plese eche persone present,

ffrom the gynnynge to the endynge so to endure,

That Cryst and every creature with the conceyte be content.

This matere here mad is of the modyr of mercy,

How be Joachym and Anne was here concepcion,

Sythe offred into the temple, compiled breffly,

Than maryed to Joseph, and so folwyng the salutacion.

Metyng with Elyzabeth and therwith a conclusyon,

In fewe wurdys talkyd, that it xulde nat be tedyous,

To lernyd nyn to lewd nyn to no man of reson,

This is the processe, now preserve ȝow Jhesus!

Thereffore of pes I ȝow pray alle that ben here present,

And take hed to oure talkyn what we xal say,

I be-teche ȝow that lorde that is evyr omnypotent,

To governe ȝow in goodnes, as he best may,

In hevyn we may hym se.

Now God that is hevyn kynge,

Sende us alle hese dere blyssynge,

And to his towre he mote us brynge.

Amen, ffor charyté!

Ysakar. The prestys of God offre sote ensens

Unto here God, and therfore they be holy;

We that mynistere here in Goddys presens,

In us xuld be fownd no maner of ffoly.

Ysakar, prynce of prestys, am I,

That this holyest day here have mynystracion,

Certyfyenge alle tribus in my cure specyaly,

That this is the hyest fest of oure solennyȝacion.

This we clepe festum Encenniorum,

The new ffest of whiche iij. in the ȝere we exercyse;

Now alle the kynredys to Jerusalem must cum,

Into the temple of God here to do sacryfyse;

Tho that be cursyd my dygnyté is to dysspyse,

And tho that be blyssyd here holy sacrefyse to take;

We be regal sacerdocium, it perteyneth us to be wysse,

Be fastyng, be prayng, be almes, and at du tyme to wake.

Joachym. Now alle this countré of Galylé,

With this cetye of Nazareth specyal,

This ffest to Jerusalem must go we,

To make sacrefyce to God eternal.

My name is Joachym, a man in godys substancyalle,

Joachym is to say, he that to God is redy,

So have I be and evyr more xal,

ffor the dredful domys of God sore drede I.

I am clepyd ryghtful, why wole ȝe se?

ffor my godys into thre partys I devyde,

On to the temple and to hem that ther servyng be,

Anodyr to the pylgrimys and pore men; the iij.ᵈᵉ ffor hem with me abyde.

So xulde every curat in this werde wyde,

ȝeve a part to his chauncel i-wys,

A part to his parochoneres that to povert slyde,

The thryd part to kepe for hym and his.

But, blyssyd wyff Anne, sore I drede

In the temple this tyme to make sacryfice;

Becawse that no frute of us dothe procede,

I fere me grettly the prest wole me dysspice.

Than grett slawndyr in the tribus of us xulde aryse:

But this I avow to God, with alle the mekenes I can,

ȝyff of his mercy he wole a childe us devyse,

We xal offre it up into the temple to be Goddys man.

Anna. ȝour swemful wurdys make terys trekyl downe be my face,

I-wys, swete husband, the fawte is in me;

My name is Anne, that is to sey, grace,

We wete not how gracyous God wyl to us be.

A woman xulde bere Cryst, these profecyes have we,

If God send frute and it be a mayd childe;

Withe alle reverens I vow to his magesté,

Sche xal be here foot-mayd to mynyster here most mylde.

Joachym. Now lete be it as God wole, ther is no more,

Tweyn turtelys ffor my sacryfice with me I take;

And I beseche, wyff, and evyr we mete more,

That hese grett mercy us meryer mut make.

Anna. For dred and ffor swem of ȝour wourdys I qwake,

Thryes I kysse ȝow with syghys ful sad;

And to the mercy of God mekely I ȝow betake,

And tho that departe in sorwe, God make ther metyng glad!

Senior tribus. Worchepful sere Joachym, be ȝe redy now?

Alle ȝour kynrede is come ȝow to exorte,

That thei may do sacrifice at the temple with ȝow,

ffor ȝe be of grett wurchep, as men ȝow report.

Joachym. Alle synfulle, seke, and sory, God mote comforte,

I wolde I were as men me name!

Thedyr in Goddys name now late us alle resorte:

A Anne, Anne, Anne, God scheeld us fro shame!

Anne. Now am I left alone, sore may I wepe,

A, husbond! ageyn God wel mote ȝow brynge!

And fro shame and sorwe he mote ȝow kepe,

Tyl I se ȝow ageyn I kan not sees of wepynge.

Senior. Prynce of oure prestys, if it be ȝour plesynge,

We be com mekely to make our sacrefice.

Ysakar. God do ȝow mede, bothe elde and ȝynge,

Than devowtly we wyl begynne servyse.

There they xal synge this sequens, “Benedicta sit beata Trinitas.” And in that tyme Ysakar with his ministeres ensensythe the autere, and than thei make her offryng, and Isaker seyth,

Comyth up, serys, and offeryth alle now,

ȝe that to do sacryfice worthy are:

Abyde a qwyle, sere, whedyr wytte thou?

Thou and thi wyff arn barrany and bare;

Neyther of ȝow ffruteful nevyr ȝett ware,

Whow durste thou amonge fruteful presume and abuse?

It is a tokyn thou art cursyd thare,

Wherefore with grett indygnacion thin offeryng I refuse!

Et refudit sacrificium Joachi.

Amonge alle this pepyl barreyn be no mo,

Therefore comyth up and offeryth here alle:

Thou, Joachym, I charge the fast out the temple thou go;

Than with Goddys holy wourde blysse ȝow I shalle!

Et redit flendo.

Ministro catando. Adjutorium nostrum in nomine Domini!

Johns. Qui fecit cœlum et terram!

Minister. Sit nomen Domini benedictum!

Chorus. Ex hoc nunc et usque in sæculum!

Episcopus. Benedicat vos divina majestas et una deitas,

Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus! Chorus. Amen.

Signando manu cum cruce solenniter, et recedant tribus extra templum.

Now of God and man blyssyd be ȝe alle,

Homward aȝen now returne ȝe,

And in this temple abyde we xalle,

To servyn God in Trinyté.

Joachym. A! mercyfful Lord, what is this lyff?

What have I do, Lorde, to have this blame?

ffor hevynes I dare not go hom to my wyff,

And amonge my neybores I dare not abyde ffor shame.

A Anne! Anne! Anne! al oure joye is turnyd to grame,

ffrom ȝour blyssyd ffelacheppe I am now exilyd,

And ȝe here onys of this ffowle fame,

Sorwe wyl sle ȝow to se me thus revylyd.

But son God soferyth thys us must sofron nede,

Now wyl I go to my shepherdys and with hem abyde,

And ther evyrmore levyn in sorwe and in drede,

Shame makyth many man his hed for to hyde.

Ha! how de ȝe, felas? in ȝow is lytel pryde,

How fare ȝe and my bestys? this wete wolde I veryly.

Primus pastor. A! welcome hedyr! blyssyd mayster, we pasture hem ful wyde,

They be lusty and fayr and grettly multyply.

How do ȝe, mayster? ȝe loke al hevyly!

How dothe oure dame at hom? sytt she and sowyht?

Joachym. To here the speke of here it sleyth myn hert veryly,

How I and sche doth, God hymself knowythe!

The meke God lyftyth up, the proude over-throwyht,

Go do what ȝe lyst; se ȝour bestys not stray.

Secundus pastor. Aftere grett sorwe, mayster, evyr gret grace growyht;

Sympyl as we kan, we xal for ȝow pray.

Tertius Pastor. ȝa, to pray ffor careful it is grett nede,

We alle wul prey ffor ȝow knelende,

God of his goodnes send ȝow good spede,

And of ȝour sorwe ȝow sone amende!

Joachym. I am nott wurthy, Lord, to loke up to hefne!

My synful steppys anvempnyd the grounde;

I loth folest that levyth thou, Lord, hyest in thi setys sefne,

What art thou, Lord? what am I wrecche werse than an hownde?

Thou hast sent me shame whiche myn hert doth wounde;

I thank the more herefore than for alle my prosperité:

This is a tokyn thou lovest me,—now to the I am bounde;

Thou seyst thou art with hem that in tribulacion be.

And ho so have the, he nedyth not care thanne;

My sorwe is feryng I have do sum offens;

Punchyth me, Lorde, and spare my blyssyd wyff Anne,

That syttyth and sorwyth ful sore of myn absens!

Ther is not may profyte but prayour to ȝour presens;

With prayores prostrat byfore thi person I wepe;

Have mende on oure avow, for ȝour meche magnyficens,

And my lovyngest wyff Anne, Lord, for thi mercy kepe!

Anna. A! mercy, Lord! mercy! mercy! mercy!

We are synfolest; it shewyth that ȝe send us alle this sorwe:

Why do ȝe thus to myn husbond, Lord? why, why, why?

For my barynes he may amend this thiself and thou lyst to morwe,

And it plese so thi mercy, the, my Lord, I take to borwe,

I xal kepe myn avow qwyl I leve and leste,

I fere me I have offendyd the; myn hert is ful of sorwe:

Most mekely I pray thi pety, that this bale thou wyl breste.

Here the aungel descendith the hefne syngyng,

“Exultet cœlum laudibus!

Resultet terra gaudiis!

Archangelorum gloria

Sacra canunt solemnia.”

Joachym. Qwhat art thou, in Goddys name, that makyst me adrad?

It is as lyth abowt me as al the werd were fere.

Angelus. I am an aungel of God come to make the glad!

God is plesyd with thin helmes, and hath herd thi prayere;

He seyth thi shame, thi repreff, and thi terys cler:

God is a vengere of synne, and not nature doth lothe!

Whos wombe that he sparyth and makyth barreyn her,

He doth to shewe his myth and his mercy bothe!

Thu seest that Sara was nynty ȝer bareyn,

Sche had a sun Ysaac, to whom God ȝaff his blyssynge;

Rachel also had the same peyn,

She had a son Joseph, that of Egypt was kynge.

A strongere than Sampson nevyr was be wrytynge,

Nor an holyere than Samuel, it is seyd thus;

ȝett here moderes were bareyn bothe in the gynnynge;

The concepcion of alle swyche, it is ful mervelyous.

And in the lyke wyse Anne, that blyssyd wyff,

Sche xal bere a childe xal hygthe Mary,

Whiche xal be blyssyd in here body and have joys ffyff,

And fful of the Holy Goost inspyred syngulyrly.

Sche xal be offryd into the temple solemply,

That of here non evyl ffame xuld sprynge thus,

And as sche xal be bore of a barrany body,

So of here xal be bore without nature Jhesus,

That xal be savyour unto al mankende!

In tokyn, whan thou come to Jherusalem, to the gyldyn gate,

Thou xalt mete Anne thi wyff, have this in thi mende;

I xal sey here the same here sorwys to rebate.

Joachym. Of this incomparabyl comfort I xal nevyr forgete the date,

My sorwe was nevyr so grett, but now my joy is more;

I xal hom in hast, be it nevyr so late.

A, Anne! blyssyd be that body of the xal be bore!

Now farewel, myn shepherdys, governe ȝow now wysly.

Primus pastor. Have ȝe good tydynges, mayster? than we be glad!

Joachym. Prayse God for me, for I am not wourthy!

Secundus pastor. In feyth, sere, so we xal with alle oure sowlys sad.

Tertius pastor. I holde it helpfful that on of us with ȝow be had.

Joachym. Nay, abyde with ȝour bests, sone, in Goddys blyssynge.

Primus pastor. We xal make us so mery now this is be-stad,

That a myle on ȝour wey ȝe xal here us synge.

Anne. Alas! ffor myn husbond me is ful wo,

I xal go seke hym what so evyr be-falle;

I wote not in erth whiche wey is he go,

ffadyr of hefne, ffor mercy to your ffete I falle.

Angelus. Anne, thin husbond ryght now I was with-alle,

The aungel of God, that bare hym good tydynge,

And as I seyd to hym so to the sey I xal,

God hath herd thi preyour and thi wepynge.

At the goldyn gate thou xalte mete hym ful mylde,

And in grett gladnes returne to ȝour hous;

So be proces thou xalt conseyve and bere a childe,

Whiche xalt hyght Mary, and Mary xal bere Jhesus,

Whiche xal be Savyour of alle the werd and us,—

Aftere grett sorwe evyr grett gladnes is had!

Now myn inbasset I have seyd to ȝow thus,

Gooth in oure Lordys name, and in God beth glad!

Anne. Now blyssyd be oure Lorde and alle his werkys ay!

Alle heffne and erthe mut blysse ȝow for this!

I am so joyful I not what I may say!

Ther can no tounge telle what joye in me is!

I to bere a childe that xal bere alle mannys blyss,

And have myn hosbonde ageyn; ho mythe have joys more?

No creature in erthe is grauntyd more mercy i-wys!

I xal hyȝe me to the ȝate to be ther before.

Here goth the aungel aȝen to hefne.

A! blyssyd be our Lord! myn husbond I se.

I xalle on myn knes and to hym-ward crepe.

Joachym. A! gracyous wyff Anne, now frutefull xal he be!

ffor joy of this metyng in my sowle I wepe;

Have this kusse of clennesse and with ȝow it kepe,

In Goddys name now go we, wyff, hom to our hous.

Anne. Ther was nevyr joy sank in me so depe,

Now may we say, husbond, God is to us gracyous,

Verily.

Joachym. ȝa, and if we have levyd wel here before,

I pray the, Lord, thin ore,

So mote we levyn evyr more,

And be thi grace more holyly.

Anne. Now hom-ward, husbond, I rede we gon,

Ryth hom al to our place,

To thank God that sytt in trone,

That thus hath sent us his grace.