Classic Poem

angel:
Scene I--A moor
Enter Coll alone.

coll:Lord, what these weders ar cold, and I am ill happid;
I am nerehande dold, so lon, so long have I nappid;
My legis thay fold, my fingers ar chappid.
It is not as I wold, for I am al lappid
In sorow,
In stormes and tempest,
Now in the eest, now in the west.
Wo is him has never rest
Midday nor morow.

Bot we sely husbandis that walkis on the moore,
In faith we are nerehandis outt of the doore.
No wonder, as it standis, if we be poore,
For the tilthe of oure landis lyis falow as the floore,
As ye ken.
We are so hamid,
Fortaxed and ramid,
We ar made hand-tamid
With thise gentlery-men.

Thus thay refe us oure rest; oure Lady theim wary!
These men that ar lord-fest, thay cause the ploghe tary.
That men say is for the best, we finde it contrary.
Thus ar husbandis opprest in pointe to miscary.
On life,
Thus hold thay us hunder,
Thus thay bring us in blonder;
It were greatte wonder
And ever shuld we thrife.

Ther shall com a swaine as proude as a po;
He must borow my waine, my ploghe also;
Then I am full faine to graunt or he go.
Thus lif we in paine, anger, and wo,
By night and day;
He must have if he lang it,
If I shuld forgang it;
I were better be hangid
Then oones say him nay.

For may he gett a paint-slefe, or a broche, now-on-dayes,
Wo is him that him grefe, or onis againe says.
Dar no man him reprefe, what mastry he mays,
And yit may no man lefe oone word that he says,
No letter.
He can make purveance
With boste and bragance,
And all is thrugh mantenance
Of men that are gretter.

It dos me good, as I walk thus by min oone,
Of this warld for to talk in maner of mone.
To my shepe will I stalk, and herkin anone,
Ther abide on a balk, or sitt on a stone,
Full sone;
For I trowe, perde,
Trew men if thay be,
We gett mor compane
Or it be none.

Enter Gib, who does not see Coll.

gib:Benste and Dominus, what may this bemene?
Why fares this warld thus oft have we not sene?
Lord, thise winds ar spitus, and the weders full kene,
And the frostis so hidus they water min eene,
No ly.
Now in dry, now in wete,
Now in snaw, now in slete,
When my shone fres to my fete,
It is not all esy.

Bot as far as I ken, or yit as I go,
We sely wedmen dre mekill wo;
We have sorow then and then, it fallis oft so.
Sely Capile, oure hen, both to and fro
She cakils.
Bot begin she to crok,
To grone or to clok,
Wo is him oure cok,
For he is in the shakils.

These men that ar wed have not all thare will:
When they ar full hard sted thay sigh full still;
God wate thay are led full hard and full ill;
In bower nor in bed thay say noght thertill.
This tide
My parte have I fun;
I know my lesson;
Wo is him that is bun,
For he must abide.

Bot now late in oure lifis--a mervell to me,
That I think my hart rifis sich wonders to see,
What that destany drifis it shuld so be--
Som men will have two wifis, and some men thre
In store!
Some ar wo that has any,
Bot so far can I,
Wo is him that has many,
For he felis sore.

Bot yong men of-wowing, for God that you boght,
Be well war of weding and think in youre thoght:
"Had I wist" is a thing it servis of noght.
Mekill still mourning has weding home broght,
And grefis
With many a sharp showre,
For thou may cach in an oure
That shall savour fulle soure
As long as thou liffis.
For, as ever red I pistill, I have oone to my fere

As sharp as a thistill, as rugh as a brere;
She is browid like a bristill, with a soure-loten chere;
Had she oones wett hir whistill she couth sing full clere
Hir Pater Noster.
She is as greatt as a whall,
She has a galon of gall:
By Him that died for us all,
I wald I had rin to I had lost hir.

coll:Gib, looke over the raw! Full defly ye stand!
Arising.
gib:Yee, the devill in thy maw so tariand!
Sagh thou awre of Daw?
coll:Yee, on a ley land
Hard I him blaw. He commis here at hand,
Not far.
Stand still.
gib:Qwhy?
coll: For he commis, hope I.
gib: He will make us both a ly
Bot if we be war.

Enter Daw, who does not see the others.

daw:Cristis crosse me spede and Sant Nicholas!
Thereof had I nede; it is wars then it was,
Whoso couthe take hede and lett the warld pas.
It is ever in drede and brekill as glas,
And slithis.
This warld foure never so,
With mervels mo and mo,
Now in wele, now in wo,
And all thing writhis.

Was never sin Noe floode sich floodis sene,
Windis and rainis so rude and stormes so kene:
Som stamerd, som stod in doute, as I wene.
Now God turne all to good! I say as I mene.
For ponder:
These floodis so thay drowne,
Both in feldis and in towne,
And beris all downe,
And that is a wonder.

We that walk on the nightis, oure catell to kepe,
We se sodan sightis, when othere men slepe.
He sees the others, but does not address them.
Yit methink my hart lightis, I se shrewis pepe.
Ye ar two tall wightis. I will giff my shepe
A turne.
Bot full ill have I ment:
As I walk on this bent
I may lightly repent,
My toes if I spurne.

A, sir, God you save, and master mine!
Addressing the others.
A drink fain wold I have, and somwhat to dine.
coll:Cristis curs, my knave, thou art a ledir hine!
gib:What, the boy list rave! Abide unto sine
We have made it.
Ill thrift on thy pate!
Though the shrew cam late
Yit is he in state
To dine, if he had it.

daw:Sich servandis as I, that swettis and swinkis,
Etis oure brede full dry, and that me forthinkis.
We ar oft wete and wery when master-men winkis,
Yit commis full lately both diners and drinkis.
Bot naitely
Both oure dame and oure sire,
When we have rin in the mire,
They can nip at oure hire,
And pay us full lately.

Bot here my trouth, master, for the fare that ye make
I shall do therafter: wirk as I take.
I shall do a litill, sir, and emang ever laike,
For yit lay my soper never on my stomake
In feldis.
Wherto shuld I threpe?
With my staf can I lepe,
And men say, "Light chepe
Letherly foryeldis."

coll:Thou were an ill lad to ride on wowing
With a man that had bot litill of spending.
gib:Peasse, boy, I bad, no more jangling,
Or I shall make thee full rad, by the hevens king,
With thy gaudis.
Wher ar oure shepe, boy? We scorne.
daw: Sir, this same day at morne
I thaim left in the corne,
When thay rang Laudis.

Thay have pasture good, thay can not go wrong.
coll:That is right. By the roode, thise nightis ar long;
Yit I wold, or we yode, oone gaf us a song.
gib:So I thoght as I stode, to mirth us emong.
daw: I grauntt.
coll: Lett me sing the tenory.
gib: And I the trible so hye.
daw: Then the mene fallis to me.
Lett se how you chauntt.
They sing.

Enter Mak, wearing a cloak over his clothes, soliloquizing.

mak:Now, Lord, for thy names seven, that made both mone and starnes,
Well mo then I can neven, thy will, Lorde, of me tharnes.
I am all uneven--that moves oft my harnes.
Now wold God I were in heven, for ther wepe no barnes
So still.
coll: Who is that pipis so poore?
mak: Wold God ye wist how I foore!
Aside.
Lo, a man that walkis on the moore,
Aloud.
And has not all his will.

gib:Mak, where has thou gon? Tell us tithing.
daw:Is he commen? Then ilkon take hede to his thing.
Snatches cloak from Mak.
mak:What! ich be a yoman, I tell you, of the king,
Pretending not to know them.
The self and the same, sond from a greatt lording.
And sich.
Fy on you! Goth hence,
Out of my presence,
I must have reverence.
Why, who be ich?

coll:Why make ye it so quaint? Mak, ye do wrong.
gib:Bot Mak, list ye saint? I trow that ye lang.
daw:I trow the shrew can paint, the devill might him hang!
mak:Ich shall make complaint and make you all to thwang,
At a worde,
And tell evin how ye doth.
coll: Bot Mak, is that sothe?
Now take outt that sothren tothe,
And sett in a torde!

gib:Mak, the devill in youre ee! A stroke wold I lene you.
daw:Mak, know ye not me? By God, I couthe tene you.
mak:God looke you all thre! Methoght I had sene you
As if recognizing them.
Ye ar a faire compane.
coll:Can ye now mene you?
gib: Shrew, jape!
Thus late as thou gos,
What will men suppos?
And thou has an ill nois
Of steling of shepe.

mak:And I am trew as stele, all men wate;
Bot a sekenes I fele that haldis me full hate:
My belly faris not wele, it is out of astate.
daw:Seldom lyis the devill dede by the gate.
mak: Therfor
Full sore am I and ill
If I stande stone-still.
I ete not an nedill
This moneth and more.

coll:How fares thy wiff? By my hoode, how faris sho?
mak:Lyis waltering, by the roode, by the fire, lo!
And a house full of brude; she drinkis well, to.
Ill spede othere good that she will do!
Bot sho
Etis as fast as she can;
And ilk yere that commis to man
She bringis furth a lakan,
And som yeres two.

Bot were I not more gracius and richere be far,
I were eten outt of house and of harbar.
Yit is she a foull douse, if ye com nar;
Ther is none that trowse nor knowis a war
Than ken I.
Now will ye se what I profer:
To gif all in my cofer
To-morne at next to offer
Hir hed-maspenny.

gib:I wote so forwakid is none in this shire.
I wold slepe if I takid les to my hire.
daw:I am cold and nakid and wold have a fire.
coll:I am wery, forrakid, and run in the mire:
Wake thou!
gib: Nay, I will lig downe by,
For I just slepe truly.
daw: As good a mans son was I
As any of you.

Bot Mak, com heder, betwene shall thou lig downe.
mak:Then might I lett you bedene of that ye wold roune,
No drede.
Fro my top to my too,
Saying his prayers.
Manus tuas commendo,
Pontio Pilato.
Crist-crosse me spede!

Now were time for a man that lackis what he wold
Rising while the rest sleep.
To stalk prevely than unto a fold,
And neemly to wirk than, and be not to bold,
For he might aby the bargain if it were told
At the ending.
Now were time for to rele,
Bot he nedis good counsele
That fain wold fare wele,
And has bot litill spending.

Bot aboute you a cercill, as rounde as a mone,
He puts a charm on the sleepers.
To I have done that I will, till that it be none,
That ye lig stone-still to that I have done;
And I shall say thertill of good wordis a fone:
On hight,
Over youre hedis my hand I lift.
Outt go youre een! fordo your sight!
Bot yit I must make better shift
And it be right.

Lord, what thay slepe hard! That may ye all here.
Was I never a shepard, bot now will I lere;
If the flok be scard, yit shall I nip nere.
How! Drawes hederward! Now mendis oure chere
From sorow.
A fatt shepe, I dar say!
A good flese, dar I lay!
Eftquite when I may,
Bot this will I borow.
Exit with sheep.
Scene II--Mak's house

Mak speaks outside the door.

mak:How, Gill, art thou in? Gett us som light.
gill:Who makis sich din this time of the night?
I am sett for to spin, I hope not I might
Rise a penny to win, I shrew them on hight.
So faris
A huswiff that has bene
To be rasid thus betwene.
Here may no note be sene
For sich small charis.

mak:Good wiff, open the hek! Ses thou not what I bring?
gill:I may thole thee dray the snek. A, com in, my sweting!
Opening.
mak:Yee, thou thar not rek of my long standing!
He enters.
gill:By the nakid nek art thou like for to hing.
Seeing sheep.
mak: Do way!
I am worthy my mete,
For in a straite can I gett
More then thay that swinke and swette
All the long day.

Thus it fell to my lott, Gill, I had sich grace.
gill:It were a foull blott to be hanged for the case.
mak:I have scapid, Jelott, oft as hard a glase.
gill:"Bot so long gos the pott to the water," men says,
"At last
Comis it home broken."
mak: Well knowe I the token,
Bot let it never be spoken!
Bot com and help fast.

I wold he were slain, I list well ete;
This twelmonthe was I not so fain of oone shepemete.
gill:Com thay or he be slain and here the shepe blete--
mak:Then might I be tane. That were a cold swette!
Go spar
The gate doore.
gill:Yis, Mak.
For and thay com at the bak--
mak: Then might I by, for all the pak,
The devill of the war.

gil:A good bourde have I spied, sin thou can none:
Here shall we him hide to thay be gone,
In my credill. Abide! Lett me alone,
And I shall lig beside in childbed and grone.
mak: Thou red,
And I shall say thou was light
Of a knave-childe this night.
gill: Now well is me day bright
That ever was I bred.

This is a good gise and a fair cast,
Yit a womans avise helpis at the last.
I wote never who spise; agane go thou fast.
mak:Bot I com or thay rise, els blawes a cold blast.
I will go slepe.
Yit slepis all this meneye,
And I shall go stalk prevely,
As it had never bene I
That caried thare shepe.
Scene III--The moor

Coll, Gib, Daw, and Mak are awaking

coll:Resurrex a mortruis! have hald my hand!
Judas carnas dominus! I may not well stand.
My fote slepes, by Jesus, and I walter fastand.
I thoght that we laid us full nere Ingland.
gib: A, ye!
Lord, what I have slept wele!
As fresh as an ele!
As light I me fele
As lefe on a tre!

daw:Benste be herin! So my body quakis
My hart is outt of skin, what so it makis.
Who makis all this din? So my browes blakis,
To the dowore will I win. Harke, felows, wakis!
We were foure.
See ye awre of Mak now?
coll: We were up or thou.
gib: Man, I gif God avowe
Yit yede he nawre.

daw:Methoght he was lapt in a wolfe-skin.
coll:So are many hapt now, namely within.
daw:When we had long napt, methoght with a gin
A fatt shepe he trapt, bot he made no din.
gib: Be still.
Thy dreme makis thee woode.
It is bot fantom, by the roode.
coll: Now God turne all to good,
If it be His will.

gib:Rise, Mak, for shame! Thou ligis right lang.
mak:Now Cristis holy name be us emang!
What is this? For Sant Jame, I may not well gang.
I trow I be the same. A, my nek has ligen wrang.
Enoghe!
One of them twists his neck.
Mekill thank! Sin yistereven,
Now, by Sant Strevin,
I was flaid with a swevin,
My hart out of sloghe.

I thoght Gill began to crok and travell full sad,
Wel ner at the first cok, of a youg lad
For to mend oure flok. Then be I never glad:
I have tow on my rok more then ever I had.
A, my heede!
A house full of yong tharmes!
The devill knok outt thare harnes!
Wo is him has many barnes,
And therto litill brede.

I must go home, by youre lefe, to Gill, as I thoght.
I pray you looke my slefe, that I stele noght.
I am loth you to grefe or from you take oght.
Exit.
daw:Go forth, ill might thou chefe! Now wold I we soght
This morne
That we had all oure store.
coll: Bot I will go before.
Let us mete.
gib:Whore?
daw: At the crokid thorne.
Scene IV--Mak's house

Mak speaks outside the door.

mak:Undo this doore! Who is here? How long shall I stand?
gill:Who makis sich a bere? Now walk in the weniand.
mak:A, Gill, what chere? It is I, Mak, youre husbande.
gill:Then may we se here the devill in a bande,
Sir Gile!
She opens, and he enters.
Lo, he commis with a lote
As he were holden in the throte.
I may not sit at my note
A handlang while.

mak:Will ye here what fare she makis to gett hir a glose?
And dos noght bot laikis and clowse hir toose?
gill:Why, who wanders? Who wakis? Who commis? Who gose?
Who brewis? Who bakis? What makis me thus hose?
And than
It is reuthe to beholde,
Now in hote, now in colde.
Full wofull is the householde
That wantis a woman.

Bot what ende has thou made with the hirdis, Mak?
mak:The last worde that thay saide when I turnid my bak,
Thay wold looke that thay hade thare shepe all the pak.
I hope thay will nott be well paide when thay thare shepe lak,
Perde!
Bot howso the gam gose,
To me thay will suppose,
And make a foull noise,
And cry outt apon me.

Bot thou must do as thou hight.
gill:I accorde me thertill.
I shall swedill him right in my credill.
If it were gretter slight, yit couthe I help till.
I will lig downe stright; com hap me.
mak:I will.
gill: Behinde
Com Coll and his maroo
That will nip us full naroo.
mak: Bot I may cry out "Haroo!"
The shepe if thay finde.

gill:Harken ay when thay call; thay will com onone.
Com and make redy all, and sing by thin oone;
Sing lullay thou shall, for I must grone,
And cry outt by the wall on Mary and John
For sore.
Sing lullay on fast
When thou heris at the last,
And bot I play a fals cast
Trust me no more.
Scene V--The moor

Enter Coll, Gib, and Daw.

daw:A, Coll, goode morne, why slepis thou nott?
coll:Alas that ever was I borne! We have a foull blott:
A fat wedir have we lorne.
daw:Mary, Godis forbott!
gib:Who shuld do us that scorne? That were a foull spott.
coll: Som shrewe.
I have soght with my dogis
All Horbery shrogis,
And of fiftene hogis
Fond I bot oone ewe.

daw:Now trow me, if ye will, by Sant Thomas of Kent,
Aither Mak or Gill was at that assent.
coll:Peasse, man, be still! I sagh when he went.
Thou sclanders him ill, thou aght to repent
Goode spede.
gib: Now as ever might I the,
If I shuld evin here de,
I wold say it were he
That did that same dede.

daw:Go we theder, I rede, and rin on oure feete.
Shall I nevere ete brede the sothe to I weet.
coll:Nor drink in my heede, with him till I mete.
gib:I will rest in no stede till that I him grete,
My brothere.
Oone I will hight:
Till I se him in sight
Shall I never slepe one night
Ther I do anothere.
Scene VI--Mak's house

Mak and Gill within, she in bed, he singing. Enter Coll, Gib, and Daw outside the door.

daw:Will ye here how thay hak? Oure sire list crone.
coll:Hard I never none crak so clere out of tone.
Call on him.
gib:Mak! Undo your doore sone!
mak:Who is that spak, as it were none,
On loft?
Who is that, I say?
daw: Goode felowse, were it day.
mak: As far as ye may,
Good, spekis soft

Over a seke woman's heede, that is at malleasse:
I had lever be dede or she had any diseasse.
gill:Go to anothere stede, I may not well queasse.
Ich fote that ye trede gos thorow my nese.
So, hee!
coll: Tell us, Mak, if ye may,
How fare ye, I say?
mak: Bot ar ye in this towne today?
Now how fare ye?

Ye have rin in the mire and ar wete yit.
I shall make you a fire if ye will sit.
A nores wold I hire--think ye on yit?
Well quitt is my hire, my dreme this is itt
A seson.
I have barnes, if ye knew,
Well mo the enewe;
Bot we must drink as we brew,
And that is bot reson.

I wold ye dinid or ye yode. Methink that ye swette.
gib:Nay, nauther mendis oure mode drinke nor mette.
mak:Why, sir, ailis you oght bot goode?
daw:Yee, oure shepe that we gett
Ar stollin as thay yode; oure los is grette.
mak: Sirs, drinkis!
Had I bene thore
Som shuld have boght it full sore.
coll: Mary, som men trowe that ye wore,
And that us forthinkis.

gib:Mak, som men trowis that it shuld be ye.
daw:Aither ye or youre spouse, so say we.
mak:Now if ye have suspouse to Gill or to me,
Com and ripe oure house, and then may ye se
Who had hir,
If I any shepe fott,
Aither cow or stott.
And Gill my wife rose nott
Here sin she laide hir.

As I am true and lele, to God here I pray
That this be the first mele that I shall ete this day.
coll:Mak, as have I sele, avise thee, I say:
He lernid timely to stele that couth not say nay.
gill: I swelt!
Outt, thefis, fro my wonis!
Ye com to rob us for the nonis.
mak: Here ye not how she gronis?
Youre hartis shuld melt.

gill:Outt, thefis, fro my barne! Negh him not thor!
mak:Wist ye how she had farne, youre hartis wold be sore.
Ye do wrang, I you warne, that thus commis before
To a woman that has farne--bot I say no more.
gill: A, my medill!
I pray to God so milde,
If ever I you begild,
That I ete this childe
That ligis in this credill.

mak:Peasse, woman, for Godis pain, and cry not so!
Thou spillis thy braine and makis me full wo.
gib:I trow oure shepe be slain. What finde ye two?
daw:All wirk we in vain; as well may we go.
Bot hatters,
I can finde no flesh,
Hard nor nesh,
Salt nor fresh,
Bot two tome platers.

Quik catell bot this, tame nor wilde,
None, as have I blis, as loude as he smilde.
Approaching the cradle.
gill:No, so God me blis, and gif me joy of my childe!
coll:We have merkid amis. I hold us begild.
gib: Sir, don!
Sir--oure Lady him save!--
Is youre child a knave?
mak: Any lord might him have,
This child, to his son.

When he wakins he kippis, that joy is to se.
daw:In good time to his hippis, and in sele.
Bot who was his gossippis, so sone rede?
mak:So fare fall thare lippis--
coll:Hark now, a le.
Aside.
mak: So God thaim thank,
Parkin, and Gibon Waller, I say,
And gentill John Horne, in good fay,
He made all the garray
With the greatt shank.

gib:Mak, frendis will we be, for we ar all oone.
mak:We? now I hald for me, for mendis gett I none.
Farewell all thre, all glad were ye gone.
daw:Faire wordis may ther be, bot luf is ther none
This yere.
The shepherds start to leave.
coll: Gaf ye the child anything?
gib: I trowe not oone farthing.
daw: Fast againe will I fling.
Abide ye me here.

Mak, take it no grefe if I com to thy barne.
Returning into the room.
mak:Nay, thou dos me greatt reprefe, and foull has thou farne.
daw:The child will it not grefe, that litill day-starne.
Mak, with youre lefe, let me gif youre barne
Bot sixpence.
Approaching the cradle.
mak: Nay, do way, he slepis.
daw: Methink he pepis.
mak: When he wakins he wepis.
I pray you go hence,

daw:Gif me lefe him to kis, and lift up the cloutt.
What the devill is this? He has a long snoute.
Seeing the sheep.
coll:He is merkid amis, we wate ill aboute.
Joining Daw.
gib:Ill-spon weft, ywis, ay commis foull oute.
Joining them.
Ay, so!
He is like to oure shepe!
daw: How, Gib, may I pepe?
coll: I trow kinde will crepe
Where it may not go.

gib:This was a quaintt gaude and a' fair cast.
It was a hee fraude.
daw:Yee, sirs, wast.
Lett bren this bawde and bind hir fast.
A fals scaude hang at the last:
So shall thou.
Will ye se how thay swedill
His foure fete in the medill?
Sagh I never in a credill
A hornid lad or now.

mak:Peasse bid I! What, lett be youre fare!
I am he that him gatt, and yond woman him bare.
coll:What devill shall he hatt? Mak? Lo, Gib, Makis aire!
gib:Lett be all that; now God gif him care;
I sagh.
gill: A pratty child is he
As sittis on a wamans kne,
A dillydowne, perde,
To gar a man laghe.

daw:I know him by the eeremarke--that is a good tokin.
mak:I tell you, sirs, hark! his nose was brokin.
Sithen told me a clark that he was forspoken.
coll:This is a fals wark. I wold fain be wrokin.
Gett wepin.
gill: He was takin with an elfe--
I saw it myself--
When the clok stroke twelf
He was forshapin.

gib:Ye two ar well feft sam in a stede.
daw:Sin thay mantein thare theft, let do thaim to dede.
mak:If I trespas eft, gird of my heede.
With you will I be left.
coll:Sirs, do my reede:
For this trespas
We will nauther ban ne flite,
Fight nor chite,
Bot have done as tite,
And cast him in canvas.
They toss Mak in a blanket.
Scene VII--The moor

Enter Coll, Gib, and Daw.

coll:Lord, what I am sore, in point for to brist!
In faith I may no more; therfor will I rist.
gib:As a shepe of seven score he weid in my fist.
For to slepe aywhore methink that I list.
daw: Now I pray you
Lig downe on this grene.
coll: On these thefis yit I mene.
daw: Wherto shuld ye tene?
Do as I say you.

Enter an Angel. who sings Gloria in Excelsis and then addresses the shepherds.

angel:Rise, hirdmen hend, for now is He borne
That shall take fro the Fend that Adam had lorne;
That warloo to shend, this night is He borne.
God is made youre frend now at this morne
He behestis.
At Bedlem go se,
Ther ligis that fre
In a crib full poorely,
Betwix two bestis.
Exit.

coll:This was a quaint stevin as ever I hard.
It is a mervell to nevin thus to be scard.
gib:Of Godis Son of hevin he spak upward.
All the wod on a levin methoght that he gard
Appere.
daw: He spake of a barne
In Bedlem, I you warne.
coll: That betokins yond starne.
Let us seke him there.

gib:Say, what was his song? Hard ye not how he crakt it,
Thre brefes to a long?
daw:Yee, Mary, he hakt it.
Was no crochett wrong, nor nothing that lakt it.
coll:For to sing us emong, right as he knakt it,
I can.
gib: Let se how ye crone!
Can ye bark at the mone?
daw: Hold youre tonges! Have done!
coll: Hark after, than!

gib:To Bedlem he bad that we shuld gang.
I am full fard that we tary to lang.
daw:Be mery and not sad: of mirth is oure sang.
Everlasting glad to mede may we fang.
coll: Withoutt noise,
Hy we theder forthy;
If we be wete and wery,
To that child and that lady,
We have it not to lose.

gib:We finde by the prophecy--let be youre din!--
Of David and Isay and mo then I min,
Thay prophecied by clergy that in a virgin
Shuld He light and ly, to sloken oure sin
And slake it,
Save oure kinde from wo,
For Isay said so:
Ecce virgo
Concipiet a child that is nakid.

daw:Full glad may we be, and abide that day,
That lufly to se, that all mightis may.
Lord, well were me, for ones and for ay,
Might I knele on my kne, som word for to say
To that childe.
Bot the angell said
In a crib wos he laide,
He was poorly araid,
Both mene and milde.

coll:Patriarkes that has bene, and prophetis beforne,
That desirid to have sene this childe that is borne,
Thay ar gone full clene; that have thay lorne.
We shall se Him, I wene, or it be morne,
To tokin.
When I se Him and fele,
Then wot I full wele
It is true as stele
That prophetis have spokin:

To so poore as we ar that he wold appere,
First find and declare by his messingere.
gib:Go we now, let us fare, the place is us nere.
daw:I am redy and yare, go we in fere
To that bright.
Lord, if the willes be--
We ar lewde all thre--
Thou grauntt us somkins gle
To comforth thy wight.
Scene VIII--A stable in Bethlehem

coll:Haill, comly and clene! Haill, yong child!
Haill, Maker, as I mene, of a maidin so milde!
Thou hast warid, I wene, the warlo so wilde;
The fals giler of tene, now gos he begilde.
Lo, He meris,
Lo, he laghis, my sweting!
A wel faire meting!
I have holden my heting:
Have a bob of cheris.

gib:Haill, sufferan Savioure! For Thou has us soght,
Haill, frely fode and flowre that all thing has wroght!
Haill, full of favoure, that made al of noght!
Haill! I knele and I cowre. A bird have I broght
To my barne.
Haill, litill tine mop!
Of oure crede Thou art crop.
I wold drink on thy cop,
Litill daystarne.

daw:Haill, derling dere, full of Godhede!
I prey Thee be nere when that I have nede.
Haill, swete is thy chere! My hart wold blede
To se Thee sitt here in so poore wede,
With no pennis.
Haill! Put furth thy dall!
I bring Thee bot a ball:
Have and play Thee withall,
And go to the tenis.

mary:The Fader of heven, God omnipotent,
That sett all on seven, his Son has He sent.
My name couth He neven, and light or He went.
I conceivid Him full even thrugh might, as He ment,
And now is He borne.
He kepe you fro wo!
I shall pray Him so;
Tell furth as ye go,
And min on thes morne.

coll:Farewell, lady, so faire to beholde,
With thy childe on thy kne!
gib:But He ligis full cold.
Lord, well is me; now we go, Thou behold.
daw:Forsothe, allredy it semis to be told
Full oft.
coll: What grace we have fun!
gib: Com furth, now ar we won!
daw: To sing ar we bun,
Let take on loft.
They sing.