- V. xix. The SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS.
Tunc respiciens senescallus wadit ad Herodem dicens,
Senescallus. Lord, I have walkyd be dale and hylle,
And wayted, as it is 3our wylle;
The kynges iij. stelyn awey fulle stylle,
Thorwe Bedleem londe.
They wyl nevyr, so mot y the,
Come in the lond of Galylé,
for to se 3our fay ceté,
- Nededys of 30ur honde.
Herodes Rer. I ryde on my rowel ryche in my regne,
Rybbys ful reed with rape xal I sende;
Popetys et paphawkes I xal puttyn in peyne,
With my spere prevyn, pychyn, and to-pende.
The gowys with gold crownys gete thei nevyr ageyn,
To seke tho sottys sondys xal I sende;
Do howlott howtyn hoberd and heyn,
Whan here barnys blede undyr credyl bende;
Sharply Ixal hem shende
The knave childeryn that be
In alle Israel countré,
Thei xul have blody ble,
for on I calde unkende.
To have hym 3e gon,
Hewe the flesche with the bon, -
And gyff hym wownde!
Now kene knyghtes, kythe 3our craftys,
And kyllyth knave chylderyn and castyth hem in
clay;
Shewyth on 3our shulderes scheldys and schaftys,
Shapyht amonge schel chowthys ashyrlyng shray;
Doth rowncys rennyn with rakynge raftys,
Tyl rybbys be to rent with a reed ray;
Lete no barne beleve on bete baftys,
Tyl a beggere blede be bestys baye
Mahound that best may ;
I warne 3ow my knyghtes,
A barn is born I plyghtys,
Wolde clymbyn kynge and kyknytes,
And lett my lordly lay.
Angelus. Awake, Joseph, and take thi wyff,
Thy childe also ryd be-lyff
for kynge Herowde, with sharpe knyff
His knyghtes he doth sende.
The Fadyr of hevyn hath to the sent,
Into Egypte that thou be bent,
for cruel knyghtes thi childe have ment
With swerd to sle and shende.
Joseph. Awake, good wyff, out of 30ur sleepe,
And of 3our childe takyght good kepe,
Whyl I jour clothis ley on hepe,
And trus hem on the asse.
Kynge Herowde the chylde wyl scloo,
Therfore to Egypte muste we goo,
An aungel of God seyd me soo,
And therfore lete us passe.
Tuncibunt milites ad pueros occidendos, et dicat prima jaemina,
Prima famina. Longe lullynge have I lorn
Alas! qwhy was my baron born ?
With swappynge swerde now is he shorn
The heed ryght fro the nekkel
Shanke and shulderyn is al to-torn,
Sorwyn I se behyndyn and beforn,
Both mydnyth, mydday, and at morn,-
Of my lyff I ne recke.
Secunda famina. Serteynly I say the same,
Gon is alle my good game,
My lytylle childe lyth alle lame,
That lullyd on my pappys!
My fourty wekys gronynge
Hath sent me sefne 3ere sorwynge,
Mykyl is my mornynge,
And ryght hard arne myn happys'
Primus miles. Lorde in trone
Makyght no mone,
Qwenys gyn grone
In werld aboute.
Upon my spere
A gerle I bere,
I dare welle swere,
Lett moderes howte.
Secundus miles. Lord, we han spad,
As 3e bad;
Barnis ben blad,
And lyne in dyche.
filesche and veyn
Han tholyd peyn,
And 3e xul reyne
Evermore ryche.
Herodes Rew. 3e xul have stedys
To 3our medys,
Londys and ledys,
ffryth and fe.
Wele have 3e wrought,
My fro is sought,
To deth is he brought,
Now come up to me.
In sete now am I sett, as kynge of myghtys most, \, ',
Alle this werd for ther love to me xul thei lowt; o
Bothe of hevyn, and of erthe, and of helle cost,
for dygne of my dygnyté thei have of me dowt.
Ther is no lord lyke on lyve to me wurthe a toost,
Nether kyng nor kayser in alle this world abought ;
If any brybour do bragge or blowe agens my bost, 4.
Ixal rappe tho rebawdys and rake them on rought,
With my bryght bronde.
Ther xal be neyther kayser nere kynge,
But that I xal hem down dynge,
Lesse than he at my byddynge
Be buxum to myn honde.
Now, my jentylle and curteys knyghtes, herke to me this
stownde,
Good tyme sone methynkyghe at dyner that we were;
Smertly therfore sett a tabylle anon here ful sownde, , so
Coverid with a coryous clothe and with ryche wurthy fare;
Servyse for the lovelyest lorde that levynge is on grownde,
Beste metes, and wurthyestwynes, loke that 3e non spare ;
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