Ludus Coventriæ

by Unknown

X. MARY’S BETROTHMENT.

Tunc venit ab Ysakar espiscopus.

Lystenyth lordynges, both hye and lowe,

And tendyrly takyth heyd onto my sawe,

Beth buxom and benygne ȝour busshopp to knowe,

ffor I am that lord that made this lawe.

With hertys so hende herkyn nowe,

ȝoure damyselys to weddying ȝa loke that ȝe drawe,

That passyn xiiij. ȝere, ffor what that ȝe owe,

The lawe of God byddyth this sawe,

That at xiiij. ȝere of age

Every damesel, what so sche be,

To the encrese of more plenté,

Xulde be browght in good degré,

Onto here spowsage.

Joachym. Herke now, Anne, my jentyl spowse,

How that the buschop his lawe hath tolde,

That what man hath a dowtyr in his house,

That passyth xiiij. ȝeres olde,

He muste here brynge, I herde hym kowse,

Into the tempyl a spowse to wedde,

Wherfore oure dowtyr ryth good and dowse,

Into the tempyl sche must be ledde,

And that anoon ryght sone.

Anne. Sere, I grawnt that it be so,

Aȝen the lawe may we not do,

With here togedyr lete us now go,

I hold it ryght weyl done.

Joachym. Sere busshopp, here, aftyr thin owyn hest,

We have here brought oure dowtyr dere;

Mary, my swete childe, she is ful prest

Of age, she is ful xiiij. ȝere.

Episcopus. Welcome, Joachym, onto myn areste,

Bothe Anne thi wyff and Mary clere;

Now, Mary, chylde to the lawe thou leste,

And chese the a spowse to be thi ffere,

That lawe thou must ffulffylle.

Maria. Aȝens the lawe wyl I nevyr be,

But mannys ffelachep xal nevyr folwe me,

I wyl levyn evyr in chastyté

Be the grace of Goddys wylle.

Episcopus. A! ffayre mayde, why seyst thou so?

What menyth the for to levyn chast?

Why wylt thou not to weddyng go?

The cawse thou tell me, and that in hast.

Maria. My ffaydr and my modyr sertys also,

Er I was born, ȝe may me trast,

Thei were bothe bareyn, here frute was do;

They come to the tempyl at the last,

To do here sacryfice.

Bycause they hadde nothyr frute nere chylde,

Reprevyd thei wore of wykkyd and wyllde,

With grett shame thei were revylyd,—

Al men dede them dyspyce.

My ffadyr and my modyr thei wepte fulle sore,

fful hevy here hertys wern of this dede;

With wepynge eyn thei preyd therfore

That God wolde socowre hem and sende hem sede.

Iff God wold graunt hem a childe be bore,

They behest the chylde here lyf xulde lede,

In Goddys temple to serve evyrmore,

And wurchep God in love and drede.

Than God fful of grace,

He herd here longe prayour,

And than sent hem bothe seed and flowre:

Whan I was born in here bowre,

To the temple offryd I was.

Whan that I was to the temple brought,

And offerde up to God above,

Ther hested I, as myn hert thought,

To serve my God with hertyly love.

Clennesse and chastyté myn hert owth,

Erthely creature nevyr may shove;

Suche clene lyff xuld ȝe nought

In no maner wyse reprove;

To this clennesse I me take.

This is the cawse, as I ȝow telle,

That I with man wylle nevyr melle,

In the servyse of God wyl I evyr dwelle,—

I wyl nevyr have other make.

Episcopus. A! mercy God, these wordys wyse,

Of this fayr mayde clene;

Thei trobyl myn hert in many wyse,

Her wytt is grett, and that is sene;

In clennes to levyn in Godys servise,

No man here blame non here tene,

And ȝit in lawe thus it lyce,

That suche weddyd xulde bene:

Who xal expownd this oute?

The lawe doth after lyff of clennes,

The lawe doth bydde suche maydenes expres

That to spowsyng they xulde hem dres:

God help us in this dowhte!

This ansuere grettly trobelyth me:

To mak a vow to creatures it is lefful,—

Vovete and reddite in Scripture have we,

And to observe oure lawe also it is nedful.

In this to dyscerne to me it is dredful;

Therfore to cowcelle me in this cas, I calle

The holde and the wyse and swiche as ben spedful.—

In this sey ȝour avyse, I beseche ȝow alle.

Minister. To breke our lawe and custom it wore hard indede,

And on that other syde to do aȝen Scrypture;

To ȝeve sentens in this degré ȝe must take goo hede,

ffor dowteles this matere is dyffuse and obscure.

Myn avyse here in this, I ȝow ensure,

That we prey alle God to have relacion;

ffor be prayour grett knowleche men recure,

And to this I counselle ȝou to ȝeve assygnacion.

Episcopus. Trewly ȝour counselle is ryght good and eylsum,

And as ȝe han seyd, so xal it be:

I charge ȝow, bretheryn and systerys, hedyr ȝe com,

And togedyr to God now pray we,

That it may plese his fynyte deyté,

Knowleche in this to sendyn us!

Mekely eche man ffalle downe on kne,

And we xal begynne Veni Creator spiritus.

Et hic cantent “Veni Creator.” And whan “Veni Creator” is doun, the buschop xal seyng,

Now, lord God, of lordys wysest of alle,

I pray the, Lorde, knelyng on kne,

With carefulle herte I crye and calle,

This dowteful dowte enforme thou me.

Angelus. Thy prayor is herd to hyȝ hevyn halle,

God hath me sent here downe to the,

To telle the what that thou do xalle,

And how thou xalt be rewlyd in iche degré.

Take tent and undyrstond.

This is Goddys owyn byddyng,

That alle kynsmen of Davyd the kyng,

To the temple xul brynge here du offryng,

With whyte ȝardys in ther honde.

Loke wele what tyme thei offere there,

Alle here ȝardys in thin hand thou take,

Take hede whose ȝerde doth blome and bere,

And he xal be the maydenys make.

Episcopus. I thank the, Lord, with mylde chere,

Thi wurde xal I werkyn withowtyn wrake;

I xal send for hem, bothyn fere and nere;

To werke thi wyl I undyrtake:

Anon it xal be do.

Herk, masangere, thou wend thi way,

Davyd kynsmen, as I the say,

Byd hem come offyr this same day,

And brynge whyte ȝardys also.

Nuncius. Oy! al maner men takyth to me tent,

That be owgth of kynrede to David the kyng;

My lord the busshop hath for ȝow sent,

To the temple that ȝe come with ȝour offryng.

He chargight that ȝe hast ȝow, for he is redy bent,

ȝow to receyve at ȝour comyng;

He byddeth ȝow fferthermore in handys that ȝe hent,

A fayre white ȝerde everyche of ȝow ȝe bryng,

In hyght.

Tary not, I pray ȝow;

My lord, as I say ȝow,

Now to receyve so

Is fulle redy dyght.

Joseph. In great labore my lyff I lede,

Myn ocupasyon lyth in many place,

ffor febylnesse of age my jorney I may nat spede;

I thank the, gret God, of thi grace!

Primus generacionis David.

What chere, Joseph, what ys the case,

That ye lye here on this ground?

Joseph. Age and febylnesse doth me embrace,

That I may nother welle goo ne stond.

Secundus generacionis.

We be commandyd be the beschoppys sond,

That every man of Davyd kynrede,

In the tempyll to offyr a wond;

Therfor in this jorney let us procede.

Joseph. Me to traveylle yt is no nede,

I prey you, frendes, go forth your wey.

Tertius generacionis.

This come forth, Joseph, I you rede,

And knowyth what the buschop wolle sey.

Quartus generacionis.

Ther ys a mayd whos name ys clepyd Mary,

Doughter to Joachym, as it is told:

Here to mary thei wolle asay

To som man dowty and bold.

Joseph. Benedicite, I cannot undyrstande

What oure Prince of Prestes doth men,

That every man xuld come and brynge with hym a whande,

Abyl to be maryed, that is not I, so mote I then.

I have be maydon evyr, and evyr more wele ben,

I chaungyd not ȝet of alle my long lyff;

And now to be maryed sum man wold wen,

It is a straunge thynge an old man to take a ȝonge wyff.

But nevyr the lesse no doute of we must forth to towne,

Now neybores and kynnysmen lete us forth go:

I xal take a wand in my hand and cast of my gowne,

Yf I falle than, I xalle gronyn for wo.

Ho so take away my staff, I say he were my fo,

ȝe be men that may wele ren go ȝe before;

I am old and also colde, walkyng doth me wo;

Therfor now wole I to my staff holde I, this jurny to wore.

Episcopus. Seres, ȝe xal undyrstande

That this is the cawse of your comynge,

And why that eche of ȝow bryngyth a wande,

ffor of God we have knowynge.

Here is to be maryde a mayde ȝynge,

Alle ȝour roddys ȝe xal brynge up to me;

And on hese rodde that the Holy Gost is syttynge,

He xal the husband of this may be.

Hic portent virgas.

Joseph. It xal not be, I ley a grote,

I xal abyde behynde prevyly;

Now wolde God I were at hom in my cote,

I am aschamyd to be seyn veryly.

Primus generacionis David.

To wurchep my lord God hedyr am I come,

Here ffor to offyr my dewe offrynge,

A fayr white ȝarde in hand have I nome,

My lord, sere busshop, at ȝour byddynge.

Secundus generacionis David.

Off Davythis kynred sertes am I com,

A ffayr white ȝarde in hand now I bryng;

My lord the busshop, after ȝour owym dom,

This ȝarde do I offre at ȝour chargyng,

Ryht here.

Tercius generacionis David.

And I a ȝarde have bothe fayr and whyght,

Here in myn hond it is redy dyght,

And here I offre it forth within syght,

Ryght in good manere.

Quartus generacionis David.

I am the fourte of Davidis kyn,

And with myn offrynge my God I honoure;

This fayr whyte ȝarde is offryng myn,

I trost in God of sum socoure.

Com on, Joseph, with offrynge thin,

And brynge up thin, as we have oure,

Thou taryst ryth longe behynde certeyn;

Why comyst not forth to Goddys toure?

Com on, man, for shame.

Joseph. Com ȝa, ȝa, God help, fulle fayn I wolde,

But I am so agyd and so olde,

That bothe myn leggys gyn to folde,

I am ny almost lame.

Episcopus. A! mercy Lord, I kan no sygne aspy,

It is best we go ageyn to prayr.

Vox. He brought not up his rodde ȝet trewly,

To whom the mayd howyth to be maryed her.

Episcopus. Whath, Joseph, why stande ȝe there byhynde?

I-wys, sere, ȝe be to blame.

Joseph. Sere, I kannot my rodde ffynde;

To come ther in trowthe me thynkyht shame.

Episcopus comyth, thens Joseph,

Sere, he may evyl go that is ner lame;

In sothe I com as fast as I may.

Episcopus. Offyr up ȝour rodde, sere, in Goddys name!

Why do ȝe not as men ȝow pray?

Joseph. Now in the wurchep of God of hevyn,

I offyr this ȝerde as lely whyte,

Prayng that Lord of gracyous stewyn,

With hert, with wytt, with mayn, with myght.

And as he made the sterres seven,

This sympyl offrynge that is so lyght,

To his wurchep he weldyghe evyn,

ffor to his wurchep this ȝerd is dyghte.

Lord God, I the pray,

To my herte thou take good hede,

And nothynge to my synful dede,

After my wyl thou qwyte my mede,

As plesyth to thi pay.

I may not lyfte myn handys heye,

Lo! lo! lo! what se ȝe now?

Episcopus. A! mercy! mercy! mercy! Lord, we crye,

The blyssyd of God we se art thou.

Et clamant omnes “mercy! mercy!”

A! gracyous God, in hevyn trone,

Ryht wundyrful thi werkys be,

Here may we se a merveyl one,

A ded stok beryth floures ffre!

Joseph in hert, withoutyn mone,

Thou mayst be blythe with game and gle,

A mayd to wedde thou must gone,

Be this meracle I do wel se.

Mary is here name;

Joseph. What, xuld I wedde? God forbede!

I am an old man, so God me spede,

And with a wyff now to levyn in drede,

It wore neyther sport nere game.

Episcopus. Aȝens God, Joseph, thou mayst not stryve,

God wyl that thou a wyff have;

This fayr mayde xal be thi wyve,

She is buxum and whyte as lave.

Joseph. A! shuld I have here? ȝe lese my lyff:

Alas! dere God, xuld I now rave?

An old man may nevyr thryff

With a ȝonge wyff, so God me save!

Nay, nay, sere, lett bene,

Xuld I now in age begynne to dote,

If I here chyde she wolde clowte my cote,

Blere myn ey, and pyke out a mote,

And thus oftyn tymes it is sene.

Episcopus. Joseph, now as I the saye,

God hath assygnyd here to the;

That God wol have do, sey thou not nay,

Oure lord God wyl that it be so!

Joseph. Aȝens my God not do I may,

Here wardeyn and kepere wyl I evyr be;

But fayr maydon, I the pray,

Kepe the clene, as I xal me;

I am a man of age.

Therfore, sere busshop, I wyl that ȝe wete,

That in bedde we xul nevyr mete,

ffor i-wys mayden suete

An old man may not rage.

Episcopus. This holyest virgyn xalt thou maryn now,

ȝour rodde foreschyth fayrest, that man may se;

The Holy Gost we se syttyht on a bow!

Now ȝelde we alle preysyng to the trenyté.

Et hic cantent, “Benedicta sit beata Trinitas.”

Joseph, wole ȝe have this maydon to ȝour wyff,

And here honour and kepe, as ȝe howe to do?

Joseph. Nay, sere, so mote I thryff,

I have ryght no nede therto.

Episcopus. Joseph, it is Goddys wyl it xuld be so!

Sey aftyr me, as it is skyl.

Joseph. Sere, and to performe his wyl I bow therto,

ffor alle thynge owyght to ben at his wyl.

Episcopus, et idem Joseph.

Sey than aftyr me,—“Here I take the, Mary, to wyff,

To havyn to holdyn, as God his wyl with us wyl make;

And as long as bethwen us lestyght oure lyff,

To love ȝow as myselff, my trewthe I ȝow take.”

Nunc ad Mariam sic dicens episcopus,

Mary, wole ȝe have this man,

And hym to kepyn as ȝour lyff?

Maria. In the tenderest wyse, fadyr, as I kan

And with alle my wyttys ffyff.

Episcopus. Joseph, with this ryng now wedde thi wyff,

And be here hand now thou here take.

Joseph. Sere, with this rynge I wedde here ryff,

And take here now here ffor my make.

Episcopus. Mary, mayd, withoutyn more stryff,

Onto thi spowse thou hast him take.

Maria. In chastyté to ledyn my lyff,

I xal hym nevyr forsake,

But evyr with hym abyde:

And, jentylle spowse, as ȝe an seyd,

Lete me levyn as a clene mayd,

I xal be trewe, be not dysmayd,

Bothe terme, tyme, and tyde.

Episcopus. Here is the holyest matremony that evyr was in this werd,

The hyȝ names of oure lord we wole now syng hy,

We alle wole this solempn dede recorde

Devowtly. Alma chorus Domini nunc pangat nomina Summi!

Now goth hom alle in Godys name,

Where as ȝour wonyng was before;

Maydenys, to lete here go alone it wore shame,

It wold hevy ȝour hertes sore:

ȝe xal blysse the tyme that sche was bore,

Now loke ȝe at hom here brynge.

Maria. To have ȝour blyssyng, ffaydr, I falle ȝow before.

Episcopus. He blysse ȝow that hath non hendyng,

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti!

Episcopus. Joseph, thiselph art old of age,

And thi wyff of age is ȝonge;

And as we redyn in old sage,

Many man is sclepyr of tonge.

Therfore evyl langage for to swage,

That ȝour good fame may leste longe,

iij. dymysellys xul dwelle with ȝow in stage,

With thi wyff to be evyrmore amonge.

I xal these iij. here take;

Susanne the fyrst xal be,

Rebecca the secunde xal go with the,

Sephore the thrydde,—loke that ȝe thre

This maydon nevyr ȝe forsake.

Susanne. Sere, I am redy att ȝour wylle,

With this maydon for to wende.

Rebecca. ȝour byddyng, sere, xalle ffulffyl,

And ffolwe this maydon ffayr and hende.

Sephor. To ffolwe hyre it is good skyl,

And to ȝour byddynge wole I bende.

Joseph. Now, sere buschop, hens go I wyl,

For now comyth onto my mende

A matere that nedful is.

Episcopus. ffarewel, Joseph and Mary clere,

I pray God kepe ȝow alle in fere,

And sende ȝow grace in good manere

To serve the kynge of blysse.

Maria. ffadyr and modyr, ȝe knowe this cas,

Whow that it doth now stonde with me;

With myn spowse I must forth passe,

And wott nevyr whan I xal ȝow se;

Therfore I pray ȝow here in this plas,

Of ȝour blyssynge for charyté;

And I xal spede the betyr and have more gras,

In what place that evyr I be;

On knes to ȝow I falle.

I pray ȝow, fadyr, and modyr dere,

To blysse ȝour owyn dere dowtere,

And pray ffor me in alle manere,

And I ffor ȝow alle.

Joachym. Almyghty God, he mote the blysse,

And my blyssynge thou have also;

In alle goodnesse ged the wysse,

On londe or on watyr, wherevyr thou go.

Anna. Now God the kepe from every mysse,

And save the sownd in welthe from wo!

I pray the, dowtyr, thou onys me kys,

Or that thi modyr part the fro.

I pray to God the save.

I pray the, Mary, my swete chylde,

Be lowe and buxhum, meke and mylde,

Sad and sobyr and nothyng wylde,

And Goddys blyssynge thou have.

Joachym. fforwel, Josephe, and God ȝow spede,

Wher so ȝe be in halle or boure.

Joseph. Almyghty God, ȝour weys lede,

And save ȝow sownd from alle doloure.

Anna. Goddys grace on ȝow sprede,

ffarewel, Mary, my swete fflowre,

ffareweyl, Joseph, and God ȝow rede,

ffareweyl my chylde and my tresowre,

ffarewel, my dowtere ȝyng.

Maria. ffarewel, fadyr and modyr dere,

At ȝow I take my leve ryght here,

God that sytt in hevyn so clere,

Have ȝow in his kepyng.

Joseph. Wyf, it is ful necessary this ȝe knowe,

That I and my kynrede go hom before,

For in sothe we have non hous of oure owe,

Therfore I xal gon ordeyn and thanne come ȝow fore.

We ar not ryche of werdly thynge,

And ȝet of our sustenauns we xal not mys,

Therfore abydyth here stylle to ȝour plesynge,

To worchep ȝour God is alle ȝour blysse.

He that is and evyr xal be

Of hefne and helle ryche kynge,

In erth hath chosyn poverté,

And alle ryches and welthis refusynge.

Maria. Goth, husbond, in oure lordys blyssynge,

He mote ȝow spede in alle ȝour nede,

And I xal here abyde ȝour aȝen comynge,

And on my sawtere-book I xal rede.

Now blyssyd be oure Lord ffor this,

Of hefne and erthe and alle that beryth lyff,

I am most bound to ȝow, Lord, i-wys,

ffor now I am bothe mayde and wyff.

Now, Lord God, dysspose me to prayour,

That I may sey the holy psalmes of Davyth,

Wheche book is clepyd the Sawtere,

That I may preyse the, my God, therwith.

Of the vertuys therof this is the pygth,

It makyht sowles fayr, that doth it say,

Angelys be steryd to help us therwith,

It lytenyth therkenesse and puttyth develys away.

The song of Psalmus is Goddys dete,

Synne is put awey therby;

It lernyth a man vertuys ful to be,

It feryth mannys herte gostly.

Who that it usyth customably,

It claryfieth the herte, and charyté makyth cowthe,

He may not ffaylen of Goddys mercy,

That hath the preysenge of God evyr in his mowthe.

O holy Psalmys! O holy book!

Swetter to say than any ony!

Thou lernyst hem, love Lord, that on the look,

And makyst hym desyre thyngys celestly.

With these halwyd psalmys, Lord, I pray the specyaly,

ffor alle the creatures qwyke and dede,

That thou wylt shewe to hem thi mercy,

And to me specyaly that do it rede.

I have seyd sum of my sawtere, and here I am

At this holy psalme in dede,

“Benedixisti, Domine, terram tuam,”

In this holy labore, Lord, me spede.

Joseph. Mary, wyff and mayd most gracyous,

Displese ȝow not, I pray ȝow, so long I have be.

I have hyryd for us a lytyl praty hous,

And ther in ryght hesely levyn wole we.

Come forthe, Mary, and folwe me,

To Naȝareth now wele we go,

And alle the maydonys, bothe ffayr and fre,

With my wyff comyth forthe also.

Now lystenyth welle, wyff, what I telle the,

I must gon owth hens fer the fro,

I wylle go laboryn in fere countré,

With trewthe to maynteyn oure housholde so.

This ix. monthis thou seyst me nowth:

Kepe the clene, my jentyl spowse,

And alle thin maydenys in thin howse,

That evyl langage I here not rowse,

ffor hese love that alle hath wrought.

Maria. I pray to God he spede ȝour way,

And in sowle helthe he mote ȝow kepe,

And sende ȝow helthe, bothe nyth and day,

He shylde and save ȝow from al shenschepe.

Now, Lord of grace, to the I pray,

With morny mood on kne I krepe,

Me save from synne, from tene and tray,

With hert I murne, with eye I wepe.

Lord God of peté,

Whan I sytt in my conclave,

Alle myn hert on the I have,

Gracyous God, my maydenhed save,

Evyr clene in chastyté.