Volume 2 — MAGNYFYCENCE, A GOODLY INTERLUDE AND A MERY, DEUYSED AND MADE BY MAYSTER SKELTON, POET LAUREATE.[779] (continued 2)

Magn. Why, is this the largesse that I haue vsyd?

Fan. Nay, it was your fondnesse that ye haue vsyd.

Magn. And is this the credence that I gaue to the letter?

Fan. Why, coulde not your wyt serue you no better?

Magn. Why, who wolde haue thought in you suche gyle?

Fan. What? yes, by the rode, syr, it was I all this whyle

That you trustyd, and Fansy is my name;

And Foly, my broder, that made you moche game.

Here cometh in Aduersyte.

Magn. Alas, who[848] is yonder, that grymly lokys?

Fan. Adewe, for I wyll not come in his clokys.[849] 1900

Magn. Lorde, so my flesshe trymblyth nowe for drede!

Here Magnyfycence is beten downe, and spoylyd from all his goodys and rayment.

Aduer. I am Aduersyte, that for thy mysdede

From God am sent to quyte thé thy mede.

Vyle velyarde, thou must not nowe my dynt withstande,

Thou must not abyde the dynt of my hande:

Ly there, losell, for all thy pompe and pryde;

Thy pleasure now with payne and trouble shalbe tryde.

The stroke of God, Aduersyte I hyght;

I pluke downe kynge, prynce, lorde, and knyght,

I rushe at them rughly, and make them ly full lowe, 1910

And in theyr moste truste I make them ouerthrowe.

Thys losyll was a lorde, and lyuyd at his lust,

And nowe, lyke a lurden, he lyeth in the dust:

He knewe not hymselfe, his harte was so hye;

Nowe is there no man that wyll set by hym a flye:

He was wonte to boste, brage, and to brace;

Nowe dare he not for shame loke one in the face:

All worldly welth for hym to lytell was;

Nowe hath he ryght nought, naked as an asse:

Somtyme without measure he trusted in golde, 1920

And now without mesure he shal haue hunger and colde.

Lo, syrs, thus I handell them all

That folowe theyr fansyes in foly to fall:

Man or woman, of what estate they be,

I counsayle them beware of Aduersyte.

Of sorowfull seruauntes I haue many scores:

I vysyte them somtyme with blaynes and with sores;

With botches and carbuckyls in care I them knyt;

With the gowte I make them to grone where they syt;

Some I make lyppers and lazars full horse; 1930

And from that they loue best some I deuorse;

Some with the marmoll to halte I them make;

And some to cry out of the bone ake;

And some I vysyte with brennynge of fyre;

Of some I wrynge of the necke lyke a wyre;

And some I make in a rope to totter and walter;

And some for to hange themselfe in an halter;

And some I vysyte to[850] batayle, warre, and murther,

And make eche man to sle other;

To drowne or to sle themselfe with a knyfe; 1940

And all is for theyr vngracyous lyfe.

Yet somtyme I stryke where is none offence,

Bycause I wolde proue men of theyr pacyence.

But, nowe a dayes, to stryke I haue grete cause,

Lydderyns so lytell set by Goddes lawes.

Faders and moders, that be neclygent,

And suffre theyr chyldren to haue theyr entent,

To gyde them vertuously that wyll not remembre,

Them or theyr chyldren ofte tymes I dysmembre;

Theyr chyldren, bycause that they haue no mekenesse; 1950

I vysyte theyr faders and moders with sekenesse;

And yf I se therby they wyll not amende,

Then myschefe sodaynly I them sende;

For there is nothynge that more dyspleaseth God

Than from theyr chyldren to spare the rod

Of correccyon, but let them haue theyr wyll;

Some I make lame, and some I do kyll;

And some[851] I stryke with a franesy;

Of some of theyr chyldren I stryke out the eye;

And where the fader by wysdom worshyp hath wonne, 1960

I sende ofte tymes a fole to his sonne.

Wherfore of Aduersyte loke ye be ware,

For when I come, comyth sorowe and care:

For I stryke lordys of realmes and landys,

That rule not by mesure that they haue in theyr handys,

That sadly rule not theyr howsholde men;

I am Goddys preposytour, I prynt them with a pen;

Because of theyr neglygence and of theyr wanton vagys,

I vysyte them and stryke them with many sore plagys.

To take, syrs, example of that I you tell, 1970

And beware of aduersyte by my counsell,

Take hede of this caytyfe that lyeth here on grounde;

Beholde, howe Fortune of[852] hym hath frounde!

For though we shewe you this in game and play,

Yet it proueth eyrnest, ye may se, euery day.

For nowe wyll I from this caytyfe go,

And take myscheffe and vengeaunce of other mo,

That hath deseruyd it as well as he.

Howe, where art thou? come hether, Pouerte;

Take this caytyfe to thy lore. 1980

Here cometh in Pouerte.[853]

Pouer. A, my bonys ake, my lymmys be sore;

Alasse, I haue the cyatyca full euyll in my hyppe!

Alasse, where is youth that was wont for to skyppe?

I am lowsy, and vnlykynge, and full of scurffe,

My colour is tawny, colouryd as a turffe:

I am Pouerte, that all men doth hate,

I am baytyd with doggys at euery mannys gate;

I am raggyd and rent, as ye may se;

Full fewe but they haue enuy at me.

Nowe must I this carcasse lyft vp: 1990

He dynyd with delyte, with Pouerte he must sup.

Ryse vp, syr, and welcom vnto me.

Hic accedat ad levandum Magnyfycence, et locabit eum super locum stratum.

Magn. Alasse, where is nowe my golde and fe?

Alasse, I say, where to am I brought?

Alasse, alasse, alasse, I dye for thought!

Pouer. Syr, all this wolde haue bene thought on before:

He woteth not what welth is that neuer was sore.

Magn. Fy, fy, that euer I sholde be brought in this snare!

I wenyd ones neuer to haue knowen of care.

Pouer. Lo, suche is this worlde! I fynde it wryt, 2000

In welth to beware, and that is wyt.

Magn. In welth to beware, yf I had had grace,

Neuer had I bene brought in this case.

Pouer. Nowe, syth it wyll no nother be,

All that God sendeth, take it in gre;

For, thoughe you were somtyme a noble estate,

Nowe must you lerne to begge at euery mannes gate.

Magn. Alasse, that euer I sholde be so shamed!

Alasse, that euer I Magnyfycence was named!

Alasse, that euer I was so harde happed, 2010

In mysery and wretchydnesse thus to be lapped!

Alasse, that I coude not myselfe no better gyde!

Alasse, in my cradell that I had not dyde!

Pouer. Ye, syr, ye, leue all this rage,

And pray to God your sorowes to asswage:

It is foly to grudge agaynst his vysytacyon.

With harte contryte make your supplycacyon

Vnto your Maker, that made bothe you and me,

And, whan it pleaseth God, better may be.

Magn. Alasse, I wote not what I sholde pray! 2020

Pouer. Rem[e]mbre you better, syr, beware what ye say,

For drede ye dysplease the hygh deyte.

Put your wyll to his wyll, for surely it is he

That may restore you agayne to felycyte,

And brynge you agayne out of aduersyte.

Therfore pouerte loke pacyently ye take,

And remembre he suffered moche more for your sake,

Howe be it of all synne he was innocent,

And ye haue deserued this punysshment.

Magn. Alasse, with colde my lymmes shall be marde! 2030

Pouer. Ye, syr, nowe must ye lerne to lye harde,

That was wonte to lye on fetherbeddes of downe;

Nowe must your fete lye hyer than your crowne:

Where you were wonte to haue cawdels for your hede,

Nowe must you monche mamockes and lumpes of brede;

And where you had chaunges of ryche aray,

Nowe lap you in a couerlet full fayne that you may;

And where that ye were pomped with what that ye wolde,

Nowe must ye suffre bothe hunger and colde:

With courtely sylkes ye were wonte to be drawe; 2040

Nowe must ye lerne to lye on the strawe;

Your skynne that was wrapped in shertes of Raynes,

Nowe must ye be stormy beten[854] with showres and raynes;

Your hede that was wonte to be happed moost drowpy and drowsy,

Now shal ye be scabbed, scuruy, and lowsy.

Magn. Fye on this worlde, full of trechery,

That euer noblenesse sholde lyue thus wretchydly!

Pouer. Syr, remembre the tourne of Fortunes whele,

That wantonly can wynke, and wynche with her hele.

Nowe she wyll laughe, forthwith she wyll frowne; 2050

Sodenly set vp, and sodenly pluckyd downe:

She dawnsyth varyaunce with mutabylyte;

Nowe all in welth, forthwith in pouerte:

In her promyse there is no sykernesse;

All her delyte is set in doublenesse.

Magn. Alas, of Fortune I may well complayne!

Pouer. Ye, syr, yesterday wyll not be callyd agayne:

But yet, syr, nowe in this case,

Take it mekely, and thanke God of his grace;

For nowe go I wyll begge for you some mete; 2060

It is foly agaynst God for to plete;

I wyll walke nowe with my beggers baggys,

And happe you the whyles with these homly raggys.

Discedendo[855] dicat ista verba.

A, howe my lymmys be lyther and lame!

Better it is to begge than to be hangyd with shame;

Yet many had leuer hangyd to be,

Then for to begge theyr mete for charyte:

They thynke it no shame to robbe and stele,

Yet were they better to begge a great dele;

For by robbynge they rynne to in manus tuas quecke, 2070

But beggynge is better medecyne for the necke;

Ye, mary, is it, ye, so mote I goo:

A Lorde God, howe the gowte wryngeth me by the too!

Here Magnyfycence dolorously maketh his mone.

Magn. O feble fortune, O doulfull destyny!

O hatefull happe, O carefull cruelte!

O syghynge sorowe, O thoughtfull mysere!

O rydlesse rewthe, O paynfull pouerte!

O dolorous herte, O harde aduersyte!

O odyous dystresse, O dedly payne and woo!

For worldly shame I wax bothe wanne and bloo. 2080

Where is nowe my welth and my noble estate?

Where is nowe my treasure, my landes, and my rent?

Where is nowe all my seruauntys that I had here a late?

Where is nowe my golde vpon them that I spent?

Where is nowe all my ryche abylement?

Where is nowe my kynne, my frendys, and my noble blood?

Where is nowe all my pleasure and my worldly good?

Alasse, my foly! alasse, my wanton wyll!

I may no more speke, tyll I haue wept my fyll.

[Here cometh in Lyberte.]

Lyb. With, ye mary, syrs, thus sholde it be. 2090

I kyst her swete, and she kyssyd me;

I daunsed the darlynge on my kne;

I garde her gaspe, I garde her gle,

With, daunce on the le, the le!

I bassed that baby with harte so free;

She is the bote of all my bale:[856]

A, so, that syghe was farre fet!

To loue that louesome I wyll not let;

My harte is holly on her set:

I plucked her by the patlet; 2100

At my deuyse I with her met;

My fansy fayrly on her I set;

So merely syngeth the nyghtyngale!

In lust and lykynge my name is Lyberte:

I am desyred with hyghest and lowest degre;

I lyue as me lyst, I lepe out at large;

Of erthely thynge I haue no care nor charge;

I am presydent of prynces, I prycke them with pryde:[857]

What is he lyuynge that lyberte wolde lacke?

A thousande pounde with lyberte may holde no tacke; 2110

At lyberte a man may be bolde for to brake;

Welthe without lyberte gothe all to wrake.

But yet, syrs, hardely one thynge lerne of me:

I warne you beware of to moche lyberte,

For totum in toto is not worth an hawe;

To hardy, or to moche, to free of the dawe;

To sober, to sad, to subtell, to wyse;

To mery, to mad, to gyglynge, to nyse;

To full of fansyes, to lordly, to prowde;

To homly, to holy, to lewde, and to lowde; 2120

To flatterynge, to smatterynge, to to out of harre;

To claterynge, to chaterynge, to shorte, and to farre;

To iettynge, to iaggynge, and to full of iapes;

To mockynge, to mowynge, to lyke a iackenapes:

Thus totum in toto groweth vp, as ye may se,

By meanes of madnesse, and to moche lyberte;

For I am a vertue, yf I be well vsed,

And I am a vyce where I am abused.

Magn. A, woo worthe thé, Lyberte, nowe thou sayst full trewe!

That I vsed thé to moche, sore may I rewe. 2130

Lyb. What, a very vengeaunce, I say, who is that?

What brothell, I say, is yonder bounde in a mat?

Magn. I am Magnyfycence, that somtyme thy mayster was.

Lyb. What, is the worlde thus come to passe?

Cockes armes, syrs, wyll ye not se

Howe he is vndone by the meanes of me?

For yf Measure had ruled Lyberte as he began,

This lurden that here lyeth had ben a noble man.

But he abused so his free lyberte,

That nowe he hath loste all his felycyte, 2140

Not thorowe largesse of lyberall expence,

But by the way of fansy insolence;

For lyberalyte is most conuenyent

A prynce to vse with all his hole intent,

Largely rewardynge them that haue deseruyd,

And so shall a noble man nobly be seruyd:

But nowe adayes as huksters they hucke and they stycke,

And pynche at the payment of a poddynge prycke;

A laudable largesse, I tell you, for a lorde,

To prate for the patchynge of a pot sharde! 2150

Spare for the spence of a noble, that his honour myght saue,

And spende c.s̄. for the pleasure of a knaue!

But so longe they[858] rekyn with theyr reasons amysse,

That they lose theyr lyberte and all that there is.

Magn. Alasse, that euer I occupyed suche abusyon!

Lyb. Ye, for nowe it hath brought thé to confusyon:

For, where I am occupyed and vsyd wylfully,

It can not contynew longe prosperyously;

As euydently in retchlesse youth ye may se,

Howe many come to myschefe for to moche lyberte; 2160

And some in the worlde theyr brayne is so ydyll,

That they set theyr chyldren to rynne on the brydyll,

In youth to be wanton and let them haue theyr wyll;

And they neuer thryue in theyr age, it shall not gretly skyll:

Some fall to foly them selfe for to spyll,

And some fall prechynge at the Toure Hyll;

Some hath so moche lyberte of one thynge and other,

That nother they set by father and mother;

Some haue so moche lyberte that they fere no synne,

Tyll, as ye se many tymes, they shame all theyr kynne. 2170

I am so lusty to loke on, so freshe, and so fre,

That nonnes wyll leue theyr holynes, and ryn after me;

Freers with foly I make them so fayne,

They cast vp theyr obedyence to cache me agayne,

At lyberte to wander and walke ouer all,

That lustely they lepe somtyme theyr cloyster wall.

Hic aliquis buccat in cornu a retro post populum.

Yonder is a horson for me doth rechate:

Adewe, syrs, for I thynke leyst that I come to late.[859]

Magn. O good Lorde, howe longe shall I indure

This mysery, this carefull wrechydnesse? 2180

Of worldly welthe, alasse, who can be sure?

In Fortunys frendshyppe there is no stedfastnesse:

She hath dyssayuyd me with her doublenesse.

For to be wyse all men may lerne of me,

In welthe to beware of herde aduersyte.

Here cometh in Crafty Conueyaunce, [and] Cloked Colusyon, with a lusty laughter.

Cr. Con. Ha, ha, ha! for laughter I am lyke to brast.

Cl. Col. Ha, ha, ha! for sporte I am lyke to spewe and cast.

Cr. Con. What has thou gotted in faythe to thy share?

Cl. Col. In faythe, of his cofers the bottoms are bare.

Cr. Con. As for his plate of syluer, and suche trasshe, 2190

I waraunt you, I haue gyuen it a lasshe.

Cl. Col. What, then he may drynke out of a stone cruyse?

Cr. Con. With, ye, syr, by Jesu that slayne was with Jewes!

He may rynse a pycher, for his plate is to wed.

Cl. Col. In faythe, and he may dreme on a daggeswane for ony fether bed.

Cr. Con. By my trouthe, we haue ryfled hym metely well.

Cl. Col. Ye, but thanke me therof euery dele.

Cr. Con. Thanke thé therof, in the deuyls date!

Cl. Col. Leue thy pratynge, or els I shall lay thé on the pate.

Cr. Con. Nay, to wrangle, I warant thé, it is but a stone caste. 2200

Cl. Col. By the messe, I shall cleue thy heed to the waste.

Cr. Con. Ye, wylte thou clenly cleue[860] me in the clyfte with thy nose?

Cl. Col. I shall thrust in thé my dagger—

Cr. Con. Thorowe the legge in to the hose.

Cl. Col. Nay, horson, here is my gloue; take it vp, and thou dare.

Cr. Con. Torde, thou arte good to be a man of warre.

Cl. Col. I shall skelpe thé on the skalpe; lo, seest thou that?

Cr. Con. What, wylte thou skelpe me? thou dare not loke on a gnat.

Cl. Col. By Cockes bones, I shall blysse thé, and thou be to bolde.

Cr. Con. Nay, then thou wylte dynge the deuyll, and thou be not holde. 2210

Cl. Col. But wottest thou, horson? I rede thé to be wyse.

Cr. Con. Nowe I rede thé beware, I haue warned thé twyse.

Cl. Col. Why, wenest thou that I forbere thé for thyne owne sake?

Cr. Con. Peas, or I shall wrynge thy be in a brake.

Cl. Col. Holde thy hande, dawe, of thy dagger, and stynt of thy dyn,

Or I shal fawchyn thy flesshe, and scrape thé on the skyn.

Cr. Con. Ye, wylte thou, ha[n]gman? I say, thou cauell!

Cl. Col. Nay, thou rude rauener, rayne beten iauell!

Cr. Con. What, thou Colyn cowarde, knowen and tryde!

Cl. Col. Nay, thou false harted dastarde, thou dare not abyde! 2220

Cr. Con. And yf there were none to dysplease but thou and I,

Thou sholde not scape, horson, but thou sholde dye.

Cl. Col. Nay, iche shall wrynge thé, horson, on the wryst.

Cr. Con. Mary, I defye thy best and thy worst.

[Here cometh in Counterfet Countenaunce.[861]]

C. Count. What, a very vengeaunce, nede all these wordys?

Go together by the heddys, and gyue me your swordys.

Cl. Col. So he is the worste brawler that euer was borne.

Cr. Con. In fayth, so to suffer thé, it is but a skorne.

C. Count. Now let vs be all one, and let vs lyue in rest,

For we be, syrs, but a fewe of the best. 2230

Cl. Col. By the masse, man, thou shall fynde me resonable.

Cr. Con. In faythe, and I wyll be to reason agreable.

C. Count. Then truste I to God and the holy rode,

Here shalbe not great sheddynge of blode.

Cl. Col. By our lakyn, syr, not by my wyll.

Cr. Con. By the fayth that I owe to God, and I wyll syt styll.

C. Count. Well sayd: but, in fayth, what was your quarell?

Cl. Col. Mary, syr, this gentylman called me iauell.

Cr. Con. Nay, by Saynt Mary, it was ye called me knaue.

Cl. Col. Mary, so vngoodly langage you me gaue. 2240

C. Count. A, shall we haue more of this maters yet?

Me thynke ye are not gretly acomberyd with wyt.

Cr. Con. Goddys fote, I warant you, I am a gentylman borne,

And thus to be facyd I thynke it great skorne.

C. Count. I can not well tell of your dysposycyons;

And ye be a gentylman, ye haue knauys condycyons.

Cl. Col. By God, I tell you, I wyll not be out facyd.

Cr. Con. By the masse, I warant thé, I wyll not be bracyd.

C. Count. Tushe, tushe, it is a great defaute:

The one of you is to proude, the other is to haute. 2250

Tell me brefly where vpon ye began.

Cl. Col. Mary, syr, he sayd that he was the pratyer man

Then I was, in opynynge of lockys;

And, I tell you, I dysdayne moche of his mockys.

Cr. Con. Thou sawe neuer yet but I dyd my parte,

The locke of a caskyt to make to starte.

C. Count. Nay, I know well inough ye are bothe well handyd

To grope a gardeuyaunce, though it be well bandyd.

Cl. Col. I am the better yet in a bowget.

Cr. Con. And I the better in a male. 2260

C. Count. Tushe, these maters that ye moue are but soppys in ale:

Your trymynge and tramynge by me must be tangyd,

For, had I not bene, ye bothe had bene hangyd,

When we with Magnyfycence goodys made cheuysaunce.

Magn. And therfore our Lorde sende you a very wengaunce!

C. Count. What begger art thou that thus doth banne and wary?

Magn. Ye be the theuys, I say, away my goodys dyd cary.

Cl. Col. Cockys bonys, thou begger, what is thy name?

Magn. Magnyfycence I was, whom ye haue brought to shame.

C. Count. Ye, but trowe you, syrs, that this is he? 2270

Cr. Con. Go we nere, and let vs se.

Cl. Col. By Cockys bonys, it is the same.

Magn. Alasse, alasse, syrs, ye are to blame!

I was your mayster, though ye thynke it skorne,

And nowe on me ye gaure and sporne.

C. Count. Ly styll, ly styll nowe, with yll hayle!

Cr. Con. Ye, for thy langage can not thé auayle.

Cl. Col. Abyde, syr, abyde, I shall make hym to pysse.[862]

Magn. Nowe gyue me somwhat, for God sake I craue!

Cr. Con. In faythe, I gyue the four quarters of a knaue. 2280

C. Count. In faythe, and I bequethe hym the tothe ake.

Cl. Col. And I bequethe hym the bone ake.

Cr. Con. And I bequethe hym the gowte and the gyn.

Cl. Col. And I bequethe hym sorowe for his syn.

C. Count. And I gyue hym Crystys curse,

With neuer a peny in his purse.

Cr. Con. And I gyue hym the cowghe, the murre, and the pose.

Cl. Col. Ye, for requiem æternam groweth forth of his nose:

But nowe let vs make mery and good chere.

C. Count. And to the tauerne let vs drawe nere. 2290

Cr. Con. And from thens to the halfe strete,

To get vs there some freshe mete.

Cl. Col. Why, is there any store of rawe motton?

C. Count. Ye, in faythe, or ellys thou arte to great a glotton.

Cr. Con. But they say it is a queysy mete;

It wyll stryke a man myscheuously in a hete.

Cl. Col. In fay, man, some rybbys of the motton be so ranke,

That they wyll fyre one vngracyously in the flanke.

C. Count. Ye, and when ye come out of the shoppe,

Ye shall be clappyd with a coloppe, 2300

That wyll make you to halt and to hoppe.

Cr. Con. Som be wrestyd there that they thynke on it froty dayes,

For there be horys there at all assayes.

Cl. Col. For the passyon of God, let vs go thyther![863]

Et cum festinatione discedant a loco.

Magn. Alas, myn owne seruauntys to shew me such reproche,

Thus to rebuke me, and haue me in dyspyght!

So shamfully to me theyr mayster to aproche,

That somtyme was a noble prynce of myght!

Alasse, to lyue longer I haue no delyght!

For to lyue in mysery it is herder than dethe: 2310

I am wery of the worlde, for vnkyndnesse me sleeth.

Hic intrat Dyspare.

Dys. Dyspare is my name, that aduersyte dothe folowe:[864]

In tyme of dystresse I am redy at hande;

I make heuy hertys with eyen full holowe;

Of faruent charyte I quenche out the bronde;

Faythe and goodhope I make asyde to stonde;

In Goddys mercy I tell them is but foly to truste;

All grace and pyte I lay in the duste.

What lyest thou there lyngrynge, lewdly and lothsome?

It is to late nowe thy synnys to repent; 2320

Thou hast bene so waywarde, so wranglyng, and so wrothsome,

And so fer thou arte behynde of thy rent,

And so vngracyously thy dayes thou hast spent,

That thou arte not worthy to loke God in the face.

Magn. Nay, nay, man, I loke neuer to haue parte of his grace;

For I haue so vngracyously my lyfe mysusyd,

Though I aske mercy, I must nedys be refusyd.

Dys. No, no, for thy synnys be so excedynge farre,

So innumerable and so full of dyspyte,

And agayne thy Maker thou hast made suche warre, 2330

That thou canst not haue neuer mercy in his syght.

Magn. Alasse, my wyckydnesse, that may I wyte!

But nowe I se well there is no better rede,

But sygh and sorowe, and wysshe my selfe dede.

Dys. Ye, ryd thy selfe, rather than this lyfe for to lede;

The worlde waxyth wery of thé, thou lyuest to longe.

Hic intrat Myschefe.

Mys. And I, Myschefe, am comyn at nede,

Out of thy lyfe thé for to lede:

And loke that it be not longe

Or that thy selfe thou go honge 2340

With this halter good and stronge;

Or ellys with this knyfe cut out a tonge

Of thy throte hole, and ryd thé out of payne:

Thou arte not the fyrst hymselfe hath slayne.

Lo, here is thy knyfe and a halter! and, or we go ferther,

Spare not thy selfe, but boldly thé murder.

Dys. Ye, haue done at ones without delay.

Magn. Shall I my selfe hange with an halter? nay;

Nay, rather wyll I chose to ryd me of this lyue

In styckynge my selfe with this fayre knyfe. 2350

Here Magnyfycence wolde slee hymselfe with a knyfe.

Mys.[865] Alarum, alarum! to longe we abyde!

Dys. Out, harowe, hyll burneth! where shall I me hyde?

Hic intrat Goodhope, fugientibus Dyspayre et Myschefe: repente Goodhope surripiat illi gladium,[866] et dicat.

Good. Alas, dere sone, sore combred is thy mynde,

Thyselfe that thou wolde sloo agaynst nature and kynde!

Magn. A, blessyd may ye be, syr! what shall I you call?

Good. Goodhope, syr, my name is; remedy pryncypall

Agaynst all sautes[867] of your goostly foo:

Who knoweth me, hymselfe may neuer sloo.

Magn. Alas, syr, so I am lapped in aduersyte,

That dyspayre well nyghe had myscheued me! 2360

For, had ye riot the soner ben my refuge,

Of dampnacyon I had ben drawen in the luge.

Good. Vndoubted ye had lost yourselfe eternally:

There is no man may synne more mortally

Than of wanhope thrughe the vnhappy wayes,

By myschefe to breuyate and shorten his dayes:

But, my good sonne, lerne from dyspayre to flee,

Wynde you from wanhope, and aquaynte you with me.

A grete mysaduenture, thy Maker to dysplease,

Thyselfe myscheuynge to thyne endlesse dysease! 2370

There was neuer so harde a storme of mysery,

But thrughe goodhope there may come remedy.

Magn. Your wordes be more sweter than ony precyous narde,

They molefy so easely my harte that was so harde;

There is no bawme, ne gumme of Arabe,

More delectable than your langage to me.

Good. Syr, your fesycyan is the grace of God,

That you hath punysshed with his sharpe rod.

Goodhope, your potecary assygned am I:

That Goddes grace hath vexed you sharply, 2380

And payned you with a purgacyon of odyous pouerte,

Myxed with bytter alowes of herde aduersyte;

Nowe must I make you a lectuary softe,

I to mynyster it, you to receyue it ofte,

With rubarbe of repentaunce in you for to rest;

With drammes of deuocyon your dyet must be drest;

With gommes goostly of glad herte and mynde,

To thanke God of his sonde, and comforte ye shal fynde.

Put fro you presumpcyon and admyt humylyte,

And hartely thanke God of your aduersyte; 2390

And loue that Lorde that for your loue was dede,

Wounded from the fote to the crowne of the hede:

For who loueth God can ayle nothynge but good;

He may helpe you, he may mende your mode:

Prosperyte to[868] hym is gyuen solacyusly to man,

Aduersyte to hym therwith nowe and than;

Helthe of body his besynesse to acheue,

Dysease and sekenesse his conscyence to dyscryue,

Afflyccyon and trouble to proue his pacyence,

Contradyccyon to proue his sapyence, 2400

Grace of assystence his measure to declare,

Somtyme to fall, another tyme to beware:

And nowe ye haue had, syr, a wonderous fall,

To lerne you hereafter for to beware withall.

Howe say you, syr? can ye these wordys grope?

Magn. Ye, syr, nowe am I armyd with goodhope,

And sore I repent me of my wylfulnesse:

I aske God mercy of my neglygence,[869]

Vnder goodhope endurynge euer styll,

Me humbly commyttynge vnto Goddys wyll. 2410

Good. Then shall you be sone delyuered from dystresse,

For nowe I se comynge to youwarde Redresse.

Hic intrat Redresse.

Red. Cryst be amonge you and the Holy Goste!

Good. He be your conducte, the Lorde of myghtys moste!

Red. Syr, is your pacyent any thynge amendyd?

Good. Ye, syr, he is sory for that he hath offendyd.

Red. How fele you your selfe, my frend? how is your mynde?

Magn. A wrechyd man, syr, to my Maker vnkynde.

Red. Ye, but haue ye repentyd you with harte contryte?

Magn. Syr, the repentaunce I haue, no man can wryte. 2420

Red. And haue ye banyshed from you all dyspare?

Magn. Ye, holly to goodhope I haue made my repare.

Good. Questyonlesse he doth me assure

In goodhope alway for to indure.

Red. Than stande vp, syr, in Goddys name!

And I truste to ratyfye and amende your fame.

Goodhope, I pray you with harty affeccyon

To sende ouer to me Sad Cyrcumspeccyon.

Good. Syr, your requeste shall not be delayed.

Et exeat.

Red. Now surely, Magnyfycence, I am ryght well apayed 2430

Of that I se you nowe in the state of grace;

Nowe shall ye be renewyd with solace:

Take nowe vpon you this abylyment,

And to that I say gyue good aduysement.

Magnyfycence accipiat indumentum.

Magn. To your requeste I shall be confyrmable.

Red. Fyrst,[870] I saye, with mynde fyrme and stable

Determyne to amende all your wanton excesse,

And be ruled by me, whiche am called Redresse:

Redresse my name is, that lytell am I vsed

As the worlde requyreth, but rather I am refused: 2440

Redresse sholde be at the rekenynge in euery accompte,

And specyally to redresse that were out of ioynte:

Full many thynges there be that lacketh redresse,

The whiche were to longe nowe to expresse;

But redresse is redlesse, and may do no correccyon.

Nowe welcome forsoth, Sad Cyrcumspeccyon.

Here cometh in Sad Cyrcumspeccyon, sayenge,

Sad Cyr. Syr, after your message I hyed me hyder streyght,

For to vnderstande your pleasure and also your mynde.

Red. Syr, to accompte you the contynewe of my consayte,

Is from aduersyte Magnyfycence to vnbynde. 2450

Sad Cyr. How fortuned you, Magnyfycence, so far to fal behynde?

Magn. Syr, the longe absence of you, Sad Cyrcumspeccyon,

Caused me of aduersyte to fall in subieccyon.

Red. All that he sayth, of trouthe doth precede;

For where sad cyrcumspeccyon is longe out of the way,

Of aduersyte it is to stande in drede.

Sad Cyr. Without fayle, syr, that is no nay;

Cyrcumspeccyon inhateth all rennynge astray.

But, syr, by me to rule fyrst ye began.

Magn. My wylfulnesse, syr, excuse I ne can. 2460

Sad Cyr. Then ye repent you of foly in tymes past?

Magn. Sothely, to repent me I haue grete cause:

Howe be it from you I receyued a letter,[871]

Whiche conteyned in it a specyall clause

That I sholde vse largesse.

Sad Cyr. Nay, syr, there a pause.

Red. Yet let vs se this matter thorowly ingrosed.

Magn. Syr, this letter ye sent to me, at Pountes was enclosed.

Sad Cyr. Who brought you that letter, wote ye what he hyght?

Magn. Largesse, syr, by his credence was his name. 2470

Sad Cyr. This letter ye speke of, neuer dyd I wryte.

Red. To gyue so hasty credence ye were moche to blame.

Magn. Truth it is, syr; for after he wrought me moch shame,

And caused me also to vse to moche lyberte,

And made also mesure to be put fro me.

Red. Then welthe with you myght in no wyse abyde.

Sad Cyr. A ha! fansy and foly met with you, I trowe.

Red. It wolde be founde so, yf it were well tryde.

Magn. Surely my welthe with them was ouerthrow.

Sad Cyr. Remembre you, therfore, howe late ye were low. 2480

Red. Ye, and beware of vnhappy abusyon.

Sad Cyr. And kepe you from counterfaytynge of clokyd colusyon.

Magn. Syr, in goodhope I am to amende.

Red. Vse not then your countenaunce for to counterfet.

Sad Cyr. And from crafters and hafters I you forfende.

Hic intrat Perseueraunce.

Magn. Well, syr, after your counsell my mynde I wyll set.

Red. What, brother Perceueraunce! surely well met.

Sad Cyr. Ye com hether as well as can be thought.

Per. I herde say that Aduersyte with Magnyfycence had fought.

Magn. Ye, syr, with aduersyte I haue bene vexyd; 2490

But goodhope and redresse hath mendyd myne estate,

And sad cyrcumspeccyon to me they haue annexyd.[872]

Red. What this man hath sayd, perceyue ye his sentence?[873]

Magn. Ye, syr, from hym my corage shall neuer flyt.

Sad Cyr. Accordynge to treuth they be well deuysyd.

Magn. Syrs, I am agreed to abyde your ordenaunce,

Faythfull[874] assuraunce with good peraduertaunce.

Per. Yf you be so myndyd, we be ryght glad.

Red. And ye shall haue more worshyp then euer ye had.

Magn. Well, I perceyue in you there is moche sadnesse, 2500

Grauyte of counsell, prouydence, and wyt;

Your comfortable aduyse and wyt excedyth all gladnesse.

But frendly I wyll refrayne you ferther, or we flyt,

Whereto were most metely my corage to knyt:

Your myndys I beseche you here in to expresse,

Commensynge this processe at mayster Redresse.

Red. Syth vnto me formest this processe is erectyd,

Herein I wyll aforse me to shewe you my mynde.

Fyrst, from your magnyfycence syn must be abiectyd,

In all your warkys more grace shall ye fynde; 2510

Be gentyll then of corage, and lerne to be kynde,

For of noblenesse the chefe poynt is to be lyberall,

So that your largesse be not to prodygall.

Sad Cyr. Lyberte to a lorde belongyth of ryght,

But wylfull waywardnesse muste walke out of the way;

Measure of your lustys must haue the ouersyght,

And not all the nygarde nor the chyncherde to play;

Let neuer negarshyp your noblenesse affray;

In your rewardys vse suche moderacyon

That nothynge be gyuen without consyderacyon. 2520

Per. To the increse of your honour then arme you with ryght,

And fumously adresse you with magnanymyte;

And euer let the drede of God be in your syght;

And knowe your selfe mortall, for all your dygnyte;

Set not all your affyaunce in Fortune full of gyle;

Remember this lyfe lastyth but a whyle.

Magn. Redresse, in my remembraunce your lesson shall rest,

And Sad Cyrcumspeccyon I marke in my mynde:

But, Perseueraunce, me semyth your probleme was best;

I shall it neuer forget nor leue it behynde, 2530

But hooly to perseueraunce my selfe I wyll bynde,

Of that I haue mysdone to make a redresse,

And with sad cyrcumspeccyon correcte my vantonnesse.

Red. Vnto this processe brefly compylyd,

Comprehendyng the worlde casuall and transytory,

Who lyst to consyder shall neuer be begylyd,

Yf it be regystryd well in memory;

A playne example of worldly vaynglory,

Howe in this worlde there is no seke[r]nesse,

But fallyble flatery enmyxyd with bytternesse; 2540

Nowe well, nowe wo, nowe hy, nowe lawe degre,

Nowe ryche, nowe pore, nowe hole, nowe in dysease,

Nowe pleasure at large, nowe in captyuyte,

Nowe leue, nowe lothe, now please, nowe dysplease,

Now ebbe, now flowe, nowe increase, now dyscrease;

So in this worlde there is no sykernesse,

But fallyble flatery enmyxyd with bytternesse.

Sad Cyr. A myrrour incleryd is this interlude,

This lyfe inconstant for to beholde and se;

Sodenly auaunsyd, and sodenly subdude, 2550

Sodenly ryches, and sodenly pouerte,

Sodenly comfort, and sodenly aduersyte;

Sodenly thus Fortune can bothe smyle and frowne,

Sodenly set vp, and sodenly cast downe;

Sodenly promotyd, and sodenly put backe,

Sodenly cherysshyd, and sodenly cast asyde,

Sodenly commendyd, and sodenly fynde a lacke,

Sodenly grauntyd, and sodenly denyed,

Sodenly hyd, and sodenly spyed;

Sodenly thus Fortune can bothe smyle and frowne, 2560

Sodenly set vp, and sodenly cast downe.

Per. This treatyse, deuysyd to make you dysporte,

Shewyth nowe adayes howe the worlde comberyd is,

To the pythe of the mater who lyst to resorte;

To day it is well, to morowe it is all amysse,

To day in delyte, to morowe bare of blysse,

To day a lorde, to morowe ly in the duste;

Thus in this worlde there is no erthly truste;

To day fayre wether, to morowe a stormy rage,

To day hote, to morowe outragyous colde, 2570

To day a yoman, to morowe made of page,

To day in surety, to morowe bought and solde,

To day maysterfest, to morowe he hath no holde,

To day a man, to morowe he lyeth in the duste;

Thus in this worlde there is no erthly truste.

Magn. This mater we haue mouyd, you myrthys to make,

Precely purposyd vnder pretence of play,

Shewyth wysdome to them that wysdome can take,

Howe sodenly worldly welth dothe dekay,

How wysdom thorowe wantonnesse vanysshyth away, 2580

How none estate lyuynge of hymselfe can be sure,

For the welthe of this worlde can not indure;

Of the terestre rechery we fall in the flode,

Beten with stormys of many a frowarde blast,

Ensordyd with the wawys sauage and wode,

Without our shyppe be sure, it is lykely to brast,

Yet of magnyfycence oft made is the mast;

Thus none estate lyuynge of hym can be sure,

For the welthe of this worlde can not indure.

Red. Nowe semyth vs syttynge that ye then resorte 2590

Home to your paleys with ioy and ryalte.

Sad Cyr. Where euery thyng is ordenyd after your noble porte.

Per. There to indeuer with all felycyte.

Magn. I am content, my frendys, that it so be.

Red. And ye that haue harde this dysporte and game,

Jhesus preserue you frome endlesse wo and shame!

Amen.