Ludus Coventriæ

by Unknown

XXIII. THE WOMAN TAKEN IN ADULTERY.

Hic de muliere in adulterio deprehensa.

Jhesus. Nolo mortem peccatoris!

Man for thi synne take repentaunce,

If thou amende that is amys,

Than hevyn xal be thin herytaunce;

Thow thou have don aȝens God grevauns,

ȝett mercy to haske loke thou be bolde,

His mercy doth passe in trewe balauns,

Alle cruel jugement be many folde.

Thow that ȝour synnys be nevyr so grett,

ffor hem be sad and aske mercy;

Sone of my ffadyr grace ȝe may gett,

With the leste teer wepynge owte of ȝour ey.

My ffadyr me sent the, man, to bye,

Alle thi raunsom mysylfe must pay;

ffor love of the mysylfe wyl dye,

Iff thou aske mercy, I sey nevyr nay.

Into the erthe ffrom hevyn above,

Thi sorwe to sese and joy to restore,

Man, I cam down, alle ffor thi love, —

Love me ageyn, I aske no more!

Thow thou myshappe and synne ful sore,

ȝit turne aȝen and mercy crave;

It is thi fawte and thou be lore,

Haske thou mercy and thou xalt have.

Uppon thi neybore be not vengabyl,

Ageyn the lawe if he offende;

Lyke as he is, thou art unstabyl,

Thyn owyn frelté evyr thou attende.

Evermore thi neybore helpe to amende,

Evyn as thou woldyst he xulde the;

Ageyn hym wrathe if thou accende,

The same in happ wylle falle on the.

Eche man to othyr be mercyable,

And mercy he xal have at nede;

What man of mercy is not tretable,

Whan he askythe mercy he xal not spede.

Mercy to graunt I com indede;

Whoso aske mercy he xal have grace;

Lett no man dowte for his mysdede,

But evyr aske mercy, whyl he hath space.

Scriba. Alas! Alas! oure lawe is lorn!

A! fals ypocryte, Jhesu be name,

That of a sheppherdis dowtir was born,

Wyl breke oure lawe and make it lame.

He wyl us werke ryght mekyl shame,

His fals purpos if he upholde;

Alle oure lawys he dothe defame,

That stynkynge beggere is woundyr bolde.

Phariseus. Sere scrybe, in feyth that ypocryte

Wyl turne this londe al to his lore;

Therfore I councelle hym to indyte,

And chastyse hym ryght wel therfore.

Scriba. On hym beleve many a score,

In his prechynge he is so gay;

Eche man hym ffolwygh ever more and more,

Aȝens that he seyth no man seyth nay.

Phariseus. A ffals qwarel if we cowde feyne,

That ypocrite to puttyn in blame;

Alle his prechynge xulde sone disteyne,

And than his wurchepp xuld turne to shame.

With sum falshede to spyllyn his name

Lett us assay, his lore to spylle;

The pepyl with hym yff we cowde grame,

Than xulde we sone have al oure wylle.

Accusator. Herke, sere pharysew, and sere scrybe,

A ryght good sporte I kan ȝow telle,

I undyrtake that ryght a good brybe

We alle xul have to kepe councelle.

A fayre ȝonge qwene here by doth dwelle,

Bothe ffresche and gay upon to loke,

And a talle man with her dothe melle,—

The wey into hyr chawmere ryght evyn he toke.

Lett us thre now go streyte thedyr,

The wey fful evyn I xalle ȝow lede;

And we xul take them bothe togedyr,

Whylle that thei do that synful dede.

Scriba. Art thou sekyr that we xal spede?

Shalle we hym fynde whan we cum there?

Accusator. Be my trowthe I have no drede,

The hare fro the fforme we xal arere.

Phariseus. We xal have game and this be trewe!

Lete us thre werke by on assent,

We wyl here brynge evyn beforn Jhesu,

And of here lyff the truthe present;

How in advowtrye hyre lyff is lent;

Than hym beforn whan she is browth,

We xul hym aske the trew jugement,

What lawful deth to here is wrouthe?

Of grace and mercy hevyr he dothe preche,

And that no man xulde be vengeable;

Ageyn the woman if he sey wreche,

Than of his prechynge he is unstabyl;

And if we fynde hym varyable

Of his prechynge that he hath tawth,

Than have we cawse, bothe juste and able,

ffor a fals man that he be cawth.

Scriba. Now, be grete God, ȝe sey fful welle:

If we hym fyndyn in varyaunce,

We have good reson, as ȝe do telle,

Hym for to brynge to foule myschauns.

If he holde stylle his dalyauns,

And preche of mercy hire for to save;

Than have we mater of gret substauns,

Hym for to kylle and putt in grave.

Grett reson why I xal ȝow telle;

ffor Moyses dothe bydde in oure lawe,

That every advowterere we xuld qwelle,

And ȝitt with stonys thei xulde be slawe;

Ageyn Moyses if that he drawe,

That synful woman with grace to helpe,

He xal nevyr skape out of oure awe,

But he xal dye lyke a dogge whelpe.

Accusatur. ȝe tary ovyr longe, seres, I sey ȝow,

They wyl sone parte, as that I gesse;

Therfore if ȝe wyl have ȝour pray now,

Lete us go take them in here whantownnesse.

Phariseus. Goo thou beforn the wey to dresse,

We xal the ffolwe within short whyle;

Iff that we may that quene dystresse,

I hope we xal Jhesu begyle.

Scriba. Breke up the dore, and go we inne,

Sett to the shuldyr with alle thi myght;

We xal hem take evyn in here synne,

Here owyn trespas shal them indite.

Hic juvenis quidam extra currit indeploydo, calligis non ligatis, et braccas in manu tenens, et dicit accusator,

Accusator. Stow that harlot sum erthely wyght,

That in advowtrye here is ffownde.

Juvenis. ȝiff any man stow me this nyth,

I xal hym ȝeve a dedly wownde.

If any man my wey doth stoppe

Or we departe, ded xal I be;

I xal this daggare putt in his croppe,

I xal hem kylle or he xal me.

Phariseus. Grett Goddys curse mut go with the,

With suche a shrewe wylle I not melle.

Juvenis. That same blyssynge I ȝyff ȝow thre,

And qwhethe ȝow alle to the devyl of helle;

In feyth I was so sore affrayd

Of ȝone thre shrewys, the sothe to say,

My breche be nott ȝett welle up teyd,

I had such hast to renne away:

Thei xal nevyr cacche me in suche affray, —

I am fulle glad that I am gon.

Adewe! adewe! a xx.ᵗⁱ devyl way,

And Goddys curse have ȝe everychon.

Scriba. Come forthe, thou stotte! com forthe, thou scowte!

Come forthe, thou bysmare and brothel bolde!

Come fforthe, thou hore, and stynkynge byche clowte!

How longe hast thou suche harlotry holde?

Phariseus. Come forth, thou quene! come forthe, thou scolde!

Com forth, thou sloveyn! com forthe, thou slutte!

We xal the teche with carys colde,

A lytyl bettyr to kepe thi kutte.

Mulyer. A! mercy, mercy, seres, I ȝow pray,

ffor Goddys love have mercy on me!

Of my myslevynge me not bewray,

Have mercy on me, for charyté!

Accusator. Aske us no mercy, it xal not be;

We xul so ordeyn ffor thi lot,

That thou xalt dye ffor thin advowtrye;

Therfore come forthe, thou stynkynge stott!

Mulier. Seres, my wurchepp if ȝe wyl save,

And helpe I have non opyn shame;

Bothe gold and sylvyr ȝe xul have,

So that in clennes ȝe kepe my name.

Scriba. Mede ffor to take, we were to blame,

To save suche stottys, it xal not be;

We xal brynge the to such a game,

That alle advowtereres xul lern be the.

Mulier. Stondynge ȝe wyl not graunt me grace,

But for my synne that I xal dye;

I pray ȝow kylle me here in this place,

And lete not the pepyl upon me crye.

If I be sclaundryd opynly,

To alle my frendys it xal be shame:

I pray ȝow kylle me prevyly,

Lete not the pepyl knowe my defame!

Phariseus. ffy on the, scowte! the devyl the qwelle!

Ageyn the lawe xul we the kylle?

ffyrst xal hange the the devyl of helle,

Or we suche folyes xulde ffulfylle;

Thow it lyke the nevyr so ille,

Befforn the prophete thou xalt have lawe,

Lyke as Moyses doth charge us tylle,

With grett stonys thou xalt be slawe.

Accusator. Com forthe apase, thou stynkynge scowte!

Before the prophete thou were this day;

Or I xal ȝeve the suche a clowte,

That thou xalt falle downe evyn in the way.

Scriba. Now, be grett God! and I the pay,

Suche a buffett I xal the take,

That alle the tethe, I dare wel say,

Withinne thin heed ffor who xul shake.

Phariseus. Herke, sere prophete, we alle ȝow pray

To gyff trewe dome and just sentence

Upon this woman, whiche this same day

In synfulle advowtery hath don offense.

Hic Jhesus, dum isti accusant mulierem, continue debet digito suo scribere in terra,

Accusator. Se, we have brought here to ȝour presens,

Becawse ȝe ben a wys prophete,

That ȝe xal telle be consyens,

What dethe to hyre ȝe thynke most mete.

Scriba. In Moyses lawe ryght thus we fynde,

That suche fals lovers xul be slayn,

Streyte to a stake we xul hem bynde,

And with grett stonys brest out ther brayn.

Of ȝour concyens telle us the playn,

With this woman what xal be wrought;

Shalle we lete here go qwyte agayn,

Or to hire dethe xal she be brought?

Jhesu nichil respondit, sed semper scrybyt in terra,

Mulier. Now, holy prophete, be mercyable!

Upon me, wrecche, take no vengeaunce!

ffor my synnys abhomynable,

In hert I have grett repentaunce.

I am wel wurthy to have myschaunce,

Bothe bodyly dethe and werdly shame;

But gracyous prophets of socurraunce,

This tyme pray ȝow for Goddys name.

Phariseus. Ageyn the lawe thou dedyst offens,

Therfore of grace speke thou no more;

As Moyses gevyth in law sentens,

Thou xalt be stonyd to deth therfore.

Accusator. Ha don, sere prophete, tells us ȝoure lore;

Xul we this woman with stonys kylle?

Or to hire hous hire home restore?

In this mater telle us ȝour wylle.

Scriba. In a colde stodye me thynkyth ȝe sytt;

Good sere, awake, telle us ȝour thought:

Xal she be stonyd? telle us ȝour wytt,—

Or in what rewle xal sche be brought?

Jhesus. Loke whiche of ȝow that nevyr synne wrought,

But is of lyff clennere than she,

Cast at here stonys, and spare here nowght,

Clene out of synne if that ȝe be.

Hic Jhesus iterum se inclinans scribet in terra, et omnes accusatores quasi confusi separatim in tribus locis se disjungent.

Phariseus. Alas! alas! I am ashamyd!

I am afferde that I xal deye;

Alle myn synnys evyn propyrly namyd

ȝon prophete dede wryte befor myn eye.

Iff that my felawys that dude aspye,

They wylle telle it bothe ffer and wyde;

My sunfulle levynge if thei out crye,

I wot nevyr wher myn heed to hyde.

Accusator. Alas! for sorwe myn herte doth blede,

Alle myn synnys ȝon man dude wryte;

If that my felawys to them toke hede,

I kannot me ffrom deth acquyte.

I wold I wore hyd sumwhere out of syght,

That men xuld me no where se ne knowe;

Iff I be take I am afflyght

In mekyl shame I xal be throwe.

Scriba. Alas! the tyme that this betyd,

Ryght byttyr care doth me embrace!

Alle my synnys be now unhyd,

ȝon man befor me hem alle doth trace.

If I were onys out of this place,

To suffyr deth gret and vengeauns able;

I wyl nevyr come befor his face,

Thow I xulde dye in a stable.

Mulier. Thow I be wurthy ffor my trespas

To suffyr dethe abhomynable,

ȝitt, holy prophete, of ȝour hyȝ grace

In ȝour jugement be mercyable.

I wyl nevyr more be so unstable,

O, holy prophete! graunt me mercy!

Of my synnys unresonable,

With alle myn hert I am sory.

Jhesus. Where be thi fomen that dude the accuse?

Why have thei lefte us to alone?

Mulier. Bycawse they cowde nat hemself excuse,

With shame they ffled hens everychone;

But, gracyous prophete, lyst to my mone!

Of my sorwe take compassyon!

Now alle myn enmyes hens be gone,

Sey me sum wurde of consolacion.

Jhesus. ffor tho synnys that thou hast wrought,

Hath any man condempnyd the?

Mulier. Nay forsothe that hathe ther nought,

Butt in ȝour grace I putt me.

Jhesus. ffor me thou xalt nat condempnyd be;

Go hom ageyn and walke at large:

Loke that thou leve in honesté,

And wyl no more to synne, I the charge.

Mulier. I thanke ȝow hyȝly, holy prophete,

Of this grett grace ȝe have me graunt;

Alle my lewde lyff I xal doun lete,

And ffonde to be Goddys trewe servaunt.

Jhesus. What man of synne be repentaunt,

Of God if he wyl mercy crave,

God of mercy is so habundawnt,

That what man haske it he xal it have.

Whan man is contrite, and hath wonne grace,

God wele not kepe olde wrethe in mynde,

But bettyr love to hem he has,

Very contryte whan he them fynde.

Now God, that dyed ffor alle mankende,

Save alle these pepyl, both nyght and day!

And of oure synnys he us unbynde,

Hyȝe Lorde of hevyn, that best may! Amen.