CC 20220801
Cleanness - Classici Stranieri\n& rekken vp alle þe resounz þat ho by rit askez,\nFayre formez myt he fynde in for[þ]ering his speche\nFor wonder wroth is þe Wyþat wrot alle þinges\nWyth þe freke þat in fylþe foles Hym after,\nBoþ withine & withouten in wedez ful bryt;\nHit were a meruayl to much, hit mot not falle.\nÞeras He heuened at happez & hyt hem her medez.\nFor he schal loke on oure Lorde with a bone chere’;\nAs so saytz, to þat syt seche schal he neuer\nMay not byde þat burre þat hit His body neen.\nForþy hynot to heuen in haterez totorne,\nFor what vrþly haþel þat hyhonour haldez\n& be forboden þat bore to bowe þider neuer,\nÞaneuer in talle ne in tuch he trespas more.\net hym is þe hye Kyng harder in her euen;\nAs Maþew melez in his masse of þat man ryche,\nÞat made þe mukel mangerye to marie his here dere,\n& sende his sonde þen to say þat þay samne schulde,\n& in comly quoyntis to com to his feste:\n‘For my boles & my borez arn bayted & slayne,\n& my fedde foulez fatted with sclat,\nMy polyle þat is penne-fed & partrykez boþe,\nWyth scheldez of wylde swyn, swanez & cronez,\nAl is roþeled & rosted ryt to þe sete;\nComez cof to my corte, er hit colde worþe.’\nWhen þay knewen his cal þat þider com schulde,\nAlle excused hem by þe skyly he scape by mot.\nOn hade bot hym a bor, he sayde, by hys trawþe:\n‘Now turne I þeder als tyd þe toun to byholde.’\nAnoþer nayed also & nurned þis cawse:\n‘I haf erned & at okkez of oxen,\n& for my hyez hem bot; to bowe haf I mester,\nTo see hem pulle in þe plow aproche me byhouez.’\n‘& I haf wedded a wyf,’ so wer hym þe þryd;\n‘Excuse me at þe court, I may not com þere.’\nÞus þay drohem adrewith daunger vchone,\nÞat non passed to þe plate þahe prayed were.\nThenne þe ludych lorde lyked ful ille,\n& hade dedayn of þat dede; ful dryly he carpez.\nHe saytz: ‘Now for her owne sore þay forsaken habbez;\nMore to wyte is her wrange þen any wylle gentyl.\nÞenne gotz forth, my gomez, þe grete streetez,\n& forsettz on vche a syde þe cete aboute;\nÞe wayferande frekez, on fote & on hors,\nBoþe burnez & burdez, þe better & þe wers,\nLaþez hem alle luflyly to lenge at my fest,\n& bryngez hem blyþly to bore as barounez þay were,\nSo þat my palays plat ful be pyt al aboute;\nÞise oþer wrechez iwysse worþy not wern.’\nÞen þay cayred & com þat þe cost waked,\nBroten bachlerez hem wyth þat þay by bonkez metten,\nSwyerez þat swyftly swyed on blonkez,\n& als fele vpon fote, of fre & of bonde.\nWhen þay com to þe courte keppte weren þay fayre,\nStytled with þe stewarde, stad in þe halle,\nFul manerly with marchal mad for to sitte,\nAs he watz dere of degre dressed his seete.\nÞenne seggez to þe souerayn sayden þerafter:\n‘Lo! Lorde, with your leue, at your lege heste\n& at þi banne we haf brot, as þou beden habbez,\nMony renischsche renkez, & et is roum more.’\nSayde þe lorde to þo ledez, ‘Laytez et ferre,\nFerre out in þe felde, & fechez mo gestez;\nWaytez gorstez & greuez, if ani gomez lyggez;\nWhatkyn folk so þer fare, fechez hem hider;\nBe þay fers, be þay feble, forlotez none,\nBe þay hol, be þay halt, be þay onyed,\n& þaþay ben boþe blynde & balterande cruppelez,\nÞat my hous may holly by halkez by fylled.\nFor, certez, þyse ilk renkez þat me renayed habbe,\n& denounced me not now at þis tyme,\nSchul neuer sitte in my sale my soper to fele,\nNe suppe on sope of my seve, þaþaþay swelt schulde.’\nThenne þe sergauntez, at þat sawe, swengen þeroute,\n& diden þe dede þat [watz] demed, as he deuised hade,\n& with peple of alle plytez þe palays þay fyllen;\nHit weren not alle on wyuez sunez, wonen with on fader.\nWheþer þay wern worþy oþer wers, wel wern þay stowed,\nAy þe best byfore & brytest atyred,\nÞe derrest at þe hye dese, þat dubbed wer fayrest,\n& syþen on lenþe bilooghe ledez inogh.\n& ay a[s] segge[s] [serly] semed by her wedez,\nSo with marschal at her mete mensked þay were.\nClene men in compaynye forknowen wern lyte,\n& et þe symplest in þat sale watz serued to þe fulle,\nBoþe with menske & with mete & mynstrasy noble,\n& alle þe laykez þat a lorde at in londe schewe.\n& þay bigonne to be glad þat god drink haden.\n& vch mon with his mach made hym at ese.\nNow inmyddez þe mete þe mayster hym biþot\nÞat he wolde se þe semble þat samned was þere,\n& rehayte rekenly þe riche & þe pou[eren],\n& cherisch hem alle with his cher, & chaufen her joye.\nÞen he bowez fro his bour into þe brode halle\n& to þe best on þe bench, & bede hym be myry,\nSolased hem with semblaunt & syled fyrre,\nTron fro table to table & talkede ay myrþe.\nBot as he ferked ouer þe flor, he fande with his ye,\nHit watz not for a halyday honestly arayed,\nA þral þryt in þe þrong vnþryuandely cloþed,\nNe no festiual frok, bot fyled with werkkez;\nÞe gome watz vngarnyst with god men to dele.\n& gremed þerwith þe grete lorde, & greue hym he þot.\n‘Say me, frende,’ quoþ þe freke with a felle chere,\n‘Hov wan þou into þis won in wedez so fowle?\nÞe abyt þat þou hatz vpon, no halyday hit menskez;\nÞou, burne, for no brydale art busked in wedez.\nHow watz þou hardy þis hous for þyn vnhap [to] nee\nIn on so ratted a robe & rent at þe sydez?\nÞow art a gome vngoderly in þat goun febele;\nÞou praysed me & my place ful pouer & ful [g]nede,\nÞat watz so prest to aproche my presens hereinne.\nHopez þou I be a harlot þi erigaut to prayse?’\nÞat oper burne watz abayst of his broþe wordez,\n& hurkelez doun with his hede, þe vrþe he biholdez;\nHe watz so scoumfit of his scylle, lest he skaþe hent,\nÞat he ne wyst on worde what he warp schulde.\nÞen þe lorde wonder loude laled & cryed,\n& talkez to his tormenttourez: ‘Takez hym,’ he biddez,\n‘Byndez byhynde, at his bak, boþe two his handez,\n& felle fetterez to his fete festenez bylyue;\nStik hym stifly in stokez, & stekez hym þerafter\nDepe in my doungoun þer doel euer dwellez,\nGreuing & gretyng & gryspyng harde\nOf teþe tenfully togeder, to teche hym be quoynt.’\nThus comparisunez Kryst þe kyndom of heuen\nTo þis frelych feste þat fele arn to called;\nFor alle arn laþed luflyly, þe luþer & þe better,\nÞat euer wern fuled in font, þat fest to haue.\nBot war þe wel, if þou wylt, þy wedez ben clene\n& honest for þe halyday, lest þou harme lache,\nFor aproch þou to þat Prynce of parage noble,\nHe hates helle no more þen hem þat ar sowle.\nWich arn þenne þy wedez þou wrappez þe inne,\nÞat schal schewe hem so schene schrowde of þe best?\nHit arn þy werkez, wyterly, þat þou wrot hauez,\n& lyued with þe lykyng þat lye in þyn hert;\nÞat þo be frely & fresch fonde in þy lyue,\n& fetyse of a fayr forme to fote & to honde,\n& syþen alle þyn oþer lymez lapped ful clene;\nÞenne may þou se þy Sauior & His sete ryche.\nFor fele[r] fautez may a freke forfete his blysse,\nÞat he þe Souerayn ne se, þen for slauþe one;\nAs for bobaunce & bost & bolnande priyde\nÞroly into þe deuelez þrote man þryngez bylyue.\nFor couetyse & colwarde & croked dedez,\nFor monsworne & mensclat & to much drynk,\nFor þefte & for þrepyng, vnþonk may mon haue;\nFor roborrye & riboudrye & resounez vntrwe,\n& dsyheriete & depryue dowrie of wydoez,\nFor marryng of maryagez & mayntnaunce of schrewez,\nFor traysoun & trichcherye & tyrauntyre boþe,\n& for fals famacions & fayned lawez;\nMan may mysse þe myrþe þat much is to prayse\nFor such vnþewez as þise, & þole much payne,\n& in þe Creatores cort com neuermore,\nNe neuer see Hym with syt for such sour tournez.\nBot I haue herkned & herde of mony hye clerkez,\n& als in resounez of ryt red hit myseluen,\nÞat þat ilk proper Prynce þat paradys weldez\nIs displesed at vch a poynt þat plyes to scaþe;\nBot neuer et in no boke breued I herde\nÞat euer He wrek so wyþerly on werk þat He made,\nNe venged for no vilte of vice ne synne,\nNe so hastyfly watz hot for hatel of His wylle,\nNe neuer so sodenly sot vnsoundely to weng,\nAs for fylþe of þe flesch þat foles han vsed;\nFor, as I fynde, þer He foret alle His fre þewez,\n& wex wod to þe wrache for wrath at His hert.\nFor þe fyrste felonye þe falce fende wrot\nWhyl he watz hye in þe heuen houen vpon lofte,\nOf alle þyse aþel aungelez attled þe fayrest:\n& he vnkyndely, as a karle, kydde a reward.\nHe senot bot hymself how semly he were,\nBot his Souerayn he forsoke & sade þyse wordez:\n`I schal telde vp my trone in þe tramountayne,\n& by lyke to þat Lorde þat þe lyft made.’\nWith þis worde þat he warp, þe wrake on hym lyt:\nDrytyn with His dere dom hym drof to þe abyme,\nIn þe mesure of His mode, His metz neuer þe lasse.\nBot þer He tynt þe tyþe dool of His tour ryche:\nÞaþe feloun were so fers for his fayre wedez\n& his glorious glem þat glent so bryt,\nAs sone as Drytynez dome drof to hymseluen,\nEr þat styngande storme stynt ne myt;\nBot as smylt mele vnder smal siue smokez forþikke.\nSo fro heuen to helle þat hatel schor laste,\nOn vche syde of þe worlde aywhere ilyche.\nis, hit watz a brem brest & a byge wrache,\n& et wrathed not þe Wy; ne þe wrech satled,\nNe neuer wolde, for wyl[fulnes], his worþy God knawe,\nNe pray Hym for no pite, so proud watz his wylle.\nForþy þaþe rape were rank, þe rawþe watz lytt[el];\nÞahe be kest into kare, he kepes no better.\nBot þat oper wrake þat wex, on wyez hit lyt\nÞurþe faut of a freke þat fayled in trawþe,\nAdam inobedyent, ordaynt to blysse.\nÞer pryuely in paradys his place watz devised,\nTo lyue þer in lykyng þe lenþe of a terme,\n& þenne enherite þat home þat aungelez forgart;\nBot þurþe eggyng of Eue he ete of an apple\nÞat enpoysened alle peplez þat parted fro hem boþe,\nFor a defence þat watz dyt of Drytyn Seluen,\n& a payne þeron put & pertly halden.\nÞe defence watz þe fryt þat þe freke towched,\n& þe dom is þe deþe þat drepez vus alle;\nAl in mesure & meþe watz mad þe vengiaunce,\n& efte amended with a mayden þat make had neuer.\nBot in þe þryd watz forþrast al þat þryue schuld:\nÞer watz malys mercyles & mawgre much scheued,\nÞat watz for fylþe vpon folde þat þe folk vsed,\nÞat þen wonyed in þe worlde withouten any maysterz.\nHit wern þe fayrest of forme & of face als,\nÞe most & þe myriest þat maked wern euer,\nÞe styfest, þe stalworþest þat stod euer on fete,\n& lengest lyf in hem lent of ledez alle oþer.\nFor hit was þe forme foster þat þe folde bred,\nÞe aþel aunceterez sunez pat Adam watz called,\nTo wham God hade geuen alle þat gayn were,\nAlle þe blysse boute blame þat bodi myt haue;\n& þose lykkest to þe lede, þat lyued next after;\nForþy so semly to see syþen wern none.\nÞer watz no law to hem layd bot loke to kynde,\n& kepe to hit, & alle hit cors clanly fulfylle.\n& þenne founden þay fylþe in fleschlych dedez,\n& controeued agayn kynde contrare werkez,\n& vsed hem vnþryftyly vchon on oþer,\n& als with oþer, wylsfully, upon a wrange wyse:\nHow þe deter of þe douþe wern derelych fayre,\n& fallen in felaschyp with hem on folken wyse,\nÞose wern men meþelez & maty on vrþe,\nÞat for her lodlych laykez alosed þay were;\nHe watz famed for fre þat fet loued best,\n& ay þe bigest in bale þe best watz halden.\n& þenne euelez on erþe ernestly grewen\n& multyplyed monyfolde inmongez mankynde,\nFor þat þe maty on molde so marre þise oþer\nÞat þe Wye þat al wrot ful wroþly bygynnez.\nWhen He knew vche contre coruppte in hitseluen,\n& vch freke forloyned fro þe ryt wayez,\nFelle temptande tene towched His hert.\nAs wye wo hym withinne, werp to Hymseluen:\n‘Me forþynkez ful much þat euer I mon made,\nBot I schal delyuer & do away þat doten on þis molde,\n& fleme out of þe folde al þat flesch werez,\nFro þe burne to þe best, fro bryddez to fyschez;\nAl schal doun & be ded & dryuen out of erþe\nÞat euer I sette saule inne; & sore hit Me rwez\nÞat euer I made hem Myself; bot if I may herafter,\nI schal wayte to be war her wrenchez to kepe.’\nÞenne in worlde watz a wye wonyande on lyue,\nFul redy & ful rytwys, & rewled hym fayre,\nIn þe drede of Drytyn his dayez he vsez,\n& ay glydande wyth his God, his grace watz þe more.\nHym watz þe nome Noe, as is innoghe knawen.\nHe had þre þryuen sunez, & þay þre wyuez:\nSem soþly þat on, þat oþer hyt Cam,\n& þe jolef Japheth watz gendered þe þryd.\nNow God in nwy to Noe con speke\nWylde wrakful wordez, in His wylle greued:\n‘Þe ende of alle kynez flesch þat on vrþe meuez\nIs fallen forþwyth My face, & forþer hit I þenk.\nWith her vnworþelych werk Me wlatez withinne;\nÞe gore þerof Me hatz greued & þe glette nwyed.\nI schal strenkle My distresse, & strye al togeder,\nBoþe ledez & londe & alle þat lyf habbez.\nBot make to þe a mancioun, & þat is My wylle,\nA cofer closed of tres, clanlych planed.\nWyrk wonez þerinne for wylde & for tame,\n& þenne cleme hit with clay comly within[n]e,\n& alle þe endentur dryuen daube withouten.\n& þus of lenþe & of large þat lome þou make:\nÞre hundred of cupydez þou holde to þe lenþe,\nOf fyfty fayre ouerþwert forme þe brede;\n& loke euen þat þyn ark haue of heþe þrette,\n& a wyndow wyd vpon[ande] wrot vpon lo[f]te,\nIn þe compas of a cubit kyndely sware;\nA wel dutande dor, don on þe syde;\nHaf hallez þerinne & halkez ful mony,\nBoþe boske[n]z & bourez & wel bounden penez.\nFor I schal waken vp a water to wasch alle þe worlde,\n& quelle alle þat is quik with quauende flodez,\nAlle þat glydez & gotz & gost of lyf habbez;\nI schal wast with My wrath þat wons vpon vrþe.\nBot My forwarde with þe I festen on þis wyse,\nFor þou in reysoun hatz rengned & rytwys ben euer:\nÞou schal enter þis ark with þyn aþel barnez\n& þy wedded wyf; with þe þou take\nÞe makez of þy myry sunez; þis meyny of ate\nI schal saue of monnez saulez, & swelt þose oþer.\nOf vche best þat berez lyf busk þe a cupple,\nOf vche clene comly kynde enclose seuen makez,\nOf vche horwed in ark halde bot a payre,\nFor to saue Me þe sede of alle ser kyndez.\n& ay þou meng with þe malez þe mete ho-bestez,\nVche payre by payre to plese ayþer oþer;\nWith alle þe fode þat may be founde frette þy cofer,\nFor sustnaunce to yowself & also þose oþer.’\nFul grayþely gotz þis god man & dos Godez hestes,\nIn drydred & daunger þat durst do non oþer.\nWen hit watz fettled & forged & to þe fulle grayþed,\nÞenn con Dryttyn hym dele dryly þyse wordez.\n‘e, Lorde, with þy leue,’ sayde þe lede þenne,\nAl is wrot at Þi worde, as Þou me wyt lantez.’\n‘Enter in, þenn,’ quoþ He, & haf þi wyf with þe,\nÞy þre sunez, withouten þrep, & her þre wyuez;\nBestez, as I bedene haue, bosk þerinne als,\n& when e arn staued, styfly stekez yow þerinne.\nFro seuen dayez ben seyed I sende out bylyue\nSuch a rowtande ryge þat rayne schal swyþe\nÞat schal wasch alle þe worlde of werkez of fylþe;\nSchal no flesch vpon folde by fonden onlyue,\nOuttaken yow at in þis ark staued\n& sed þat I wyl saue of þyse ser bestez.’\nNow Noe neuer sty[n]tez, þat niy[t] he bygynnez,\nEr al wer stawed & stoken as þe steuen wolde.\nThenne sone com þe seuenþe day, when samned wern alle,\n& alle woned in þe whichche, þe wylde & þe tame.\nÞen bolned þe abyme, & bonkez con ryse,\nWaltes out vch walle-heued in ful wode stremez;\nWatz no brymme þat abod vnbrosten bylyue;\nÞe mukel lauande loghe to þe lyfte rered.\nMony clustered clowde clef alle in clowtez;\nTorent vch a rayn-ryfte & rusched to þe vrþe,\nFon neuer in forty dayez. & þen þe flod ryses,\nOuerwaltez vche a wod & þe wyde feldez.\nFor when þe water of þe welkyn with þe worlde mette,\nAlle þat deth mot drye drowned þerinne.\nÞer watz moon for to make when meschef was cnowen,\nÞat not dowed bot þe deth in þe depe stremez;\nWater wylger ay wax, wonez þat stryede,\nHurled into vch hous, hent þat þer dowelled.\nFryst feng to þe flyt alle þat fle myt;\nVuche burde with her barne þe byggyng þay leuez\n& bowed to þe hybonk þer brentest hit wern,\n& heterly to þe hye hyllez þay [h]aled on faste.\nBot al watz nedlez her note, for neuer cowþe stynt\nÞe roe raynande ryg, þe raykande wawez,\nEr vch boþom watz brurdful to þe bonkez eggez,\n& vche a dale so depe þat demmed at þe brynkez.\nÞe moste mountaynez on mor þenne watz no more drye,\n& þeron flokked þe folke, for ferde of þe wrake.\nSyþen þe wylde of þe wode on þe water flette;\nSumme swymmed þeron þat saue hemself trawed,\nSumme stye to a stud & stared to þe heuen,\nHarez, herttez also, to þe hye runnen;\nBukkez, bausenez, & bulez to þe bonkkez hyed;\n& alle cryed for care to þe Kyng of heuen,\nRecouerer of þe Creator þay cryed vchone,\nÞat amounted þe masse, þe mase His mercy watz passed,\n& alle His pyte departed fro peple þat He hated.\nBi þat þe flod to her fete floed & waxed,\nÞen vche a segge sewel þat synk hym byhoued.\nFrendez fellen in fere & faþmed togeder,\nTo dryher delful deystyne & dyen alle samen;\nBy forty dayez wern faren, on folde no flesch styryed\nÞat þe flod nade al freten with fetande waez;\nFor hit clam vche a clyffe, cubites fyftene\nOuer þe hyest hylle þat hurkled on erþe.\nÞenne mourkne in þe mudde most ful nede\nAlle þat spyrakle inspranc, no sprawlyng awayled,\nSaue þe haþel vnder hach & his here straunge,\nNoe þat ofte neuened þe name of oure Lorde,\nHym atsum in þat ark, as aþel God lyked,\nÞer alle ledez in lome lenged druye.\nÞe arc houen watz on hye with hurlande gotez,\nKest to kythez vncouþe þe clowdez ful nere.\nHit waltered on þe wylde flod, went as hit lyste,\nDrof vpon þe depe dam, in daunger hit semed,\nWithouten mast, oþer myke, oþer myry bawelyne,\nKable, oþer capstan to clyppe to her ankrez,\nHurrok, oþer hande-helme hasped on roþer,\nOþer any sweande sayl to seche after hauen,\nBot flote forthe with þe flyt of þe felle wyndez.\nWhederwarde so þe water wafte, hit rebounde;\nOfte hit roled on rounde & rered on ende;\nNyf oure Lorde hade ben her lodezmon hem had lumpen harde.\nOf þe lenþe of Noe lyf to lay a lel date,\nÞe sex hundreth of his age & none odde erez,\nOf secounde monyth þe seuen[ten]þe day rytez,\nTowalten alle þyse welle-hedez & þe water flowed;\n& þryez fyfty þe flod of folwande dayez;\nVche hille watz þer hidde with y[þ]ez ful graye.\nAl watz wasted þat þer wonyed þe worlde withinne,\nÞ[at] euer flote, oþer flwe, oþer on fote ede,\nThat roly watz þe remnaunt þat þe rac dryuez\nÞat alle gendrez so joyst wern joyned wythinne\nBot quen þe Lorde of þe lyfte lyked Hymseluen\nFor to mynne on His mon His meth þat abydez,\nÞen He wakened a wynde on watterez to blowe;\nÞenne lasned þe llak þat large watz are.\nÞen He stac vp þe stangez, stoped þe wellez,\nBed blynne of þe rayn: hit batede as faste;\nÞenne lasned þe lolowkande togeder.\nAfter harde dayez wern out an hundreth & fyfte,\nAs þat lyftande lome luged aboute.\nWhere þe wynde & þe weder warpen hit wolde,\nHit satled on a softe day, synkande to grounde;\nOn a rasse of a rok hit rest at þe laste,\nOn þe mounte of Mararach of Armene hilles.\nÞat oþerwayez on Ebrv hit hat þe Thanes.\nBot þaþe kyste in þe cragez wern closed to byde,\net fyned not þe flod ne fel to þe boþemez,\nBot þe hyest of þe eggez vnhuled weren a lyttel,\nÞat þe burne bynne borde byhelde þe bare erþe.\nÞenne wafte he vpon his wyndowe, & wysed þeroute\nA message fro þat meyny hem moldez to seche:\nÞat watz þe rauen so ronk, þat rebel watz euer;\nHe watz colored as þe cole, corbyal vntrwe.\n& he fongez to þe flyt & fannez on þe wyndez,\nHalez hye vpon hyt to herken tyþyngez.\nHe croukez for comfort when carayne he fyndez\nKast vp on a clyffe þer costese lay drye;\nHe hade þe smelle of þe smach & smoltes þeder sone,\nFallez on þe foule flesch & fyllez his wombe,\n& sone ederly forete isterday steuen,\nHow þe cheuetayn hym charged þat þe kyst emed.\nÞe rauen raykez hym forth, þat reches ful lyttel\nHow alle fodez þer fare, ellez he fynde mete;\nBot þe burne bynne borde þat bod to hys come\nBanned hym ful bytterly with bestes alle samen.\nHe sechez anoþer sondezmon, & settez on þe dou[u]e,\nBryngez þat bryt vpon borde, blessed, & sayde:\n‘Wende, worþelych wyt, vus wonez to seche;\nDryf ouer þis dymme water; if þou druye fyndez\nBryng bodworde to bot blysse to vus alle.\nÞaþat fowle be false, fre be þou euer.’\nHo wyrle out on þe weder on wyngez ful scharpe,\nDrely alle alonge day þat dorst neuer lyt;\n& when ho fyndez no folde her fote on to pyche,\nHo vmbekestez þe coste & þe kyst sechez.\nHo hittez on þe euentyde & on þe ark sittez;\nNoe nymmes hir anon & naytly hir stauez.\nNoe on anoþer day nymmez efte þe doveue,\n& byddez hir bowe ouer þe borne efte bonkez to seche;\n& ho skyrmez vnder skwe & skowtez aboute,\nTyl hit watz nye at þe nat, & Noe þen sechez.\nOn ark on an euentyde houez þe dowue;\nOn stamyn ho stod & stylle hym abydez.\nWhat! ho brot in hir beke a bronch of olyue,\nGracyously vmbegrouen al with grene leuez;\nÞat watz þe syngne of sauyte þat sende hem oure Lorde,\n& þe satlyng of Hymself with þo sely bestez.\nÞen watz þer joy on þat gyn where jumpred er dryed,\n& much comfort in þat cofer þat watz clay-daubed.\nMyryly on a fayr morn, monyth þe fyrst,\nÞat fallez formast in þe er, & þe fyrst day,\nLedez loen in þat lome & loked þeroute,\nHow þat watterez wern woned & þe worlde dryed.\nVchon loued oure Lorde, bot lenged ay stylle\nTyl þay had tyþyng fro þe Tolke þat tyned hem þerinne.\nÞen Godez glam to hem glod þat gladed hem alle,\nBede hem drawe to þe dor: delyuer hem He wolde.\nÞen went þay to þe wykket, hit walt vpon sone;\nBoþe þe burne & his barnez bowed þeroute,\nHer wyuez walkez hem wyth & þe wylde after,\nÞroly þrublande in þronge, þrowen ful þykke.\nBot Noe of vche honest kynde nem out an odde,\n& heuened vp an auter & haled hit fayre,\n& sette a sakerfyse þeron of vch a ser kynde\nÞat watz comly & clene: God kepez non oþer.\nWhen bremly brened þose bestez, & þe breþe rysed,\nÞe sauour of his sacrafyse sot to Hym euen\nÞat al spedez & spyllez; He spekes with þat ilke\nIn comly comfort ful clos & cortays wordez:\n‘Now, Noe, no more nel I neuer wary\nAlle þe mukel mayny [on] molde for no mannez synnez,\nFor I se wel þat hit is sothe þat alle mannez wyttez\nTo vnþryfte arn alle þrawen with þot of her herttez,\n& ay hatz ben, & wyl be et; fro her barnage\nAl is þe mynde of þe man to malyce enclyned.\nForþy schal I neuer schende so schortly at ones\nAs dysstrye al for manez synne, dayez of þis erþe.\nBot waxez now & wendez forth & worþez to monye,\nMultyplyez on þis molde, & menske yow bytyde.\nSesounez schal yow neuer sese of sede ne of heruest,\nNe hete, ne no harde forst, vmbre ne droþe,\nNe þe swetnesse of somer, ne þe sadde wynter,\nNe þe nyt, ne þe day, ne þe newe erez,\nBot euer renne restlez: rengnez e þerinne.’\nÞerwyth He blessez vch a best, & bytat hem þis erþe.\nÞen watz a skylly skyualde, quen scaped alle þe wylde,\nVche fowle to þe flyt þat fyþerez myt serue,\nVche fysch to þe flod þat fynne couþe nayte.\nVche beste to þe bent þat þat bytes on erbez;\nWylde wormez to her won wryþez in þe erþe,\nÞe fox & þe folmarde to þe fryth wyndez,\nHerttes to hye heþe, harez to gorstez,\n& lyounez & lebardez to þe lake-ryftes:\nHernez & hauekez to þe hye rochez,\nÞe hole-foted fowle to þe flod hyez,\n& vche best at a brayde þer hym best lykez;\nÞe fowre frekez of þe folde fongez þe empyre.\nLo! suche a wrakful wo for wlatsum dedez\nParformed þe hye Fader on folke þat He made;\nÞat He chysly hade cherisched He chastysed ful hardee,\nIn devoydynge þe vylanye þat venkquyst His þewez.\nForþy war þe now, wye þat worschyp desyres\nIn His comlych courte þat Kyng is of blysse,\nIn þe fylþe of þe flesch þat þou be founden neuer,\nTyl any water in þe worlde to wasche þe fayly.\nFor is no segge vnder sunne so seme of his craftez,\nIf he be sulped in synne, þat syttez vnclene;\nOn spec of spote may spede to mysse\nOf þe syte of þe Souerayn þat syttez so hye;\nFor þat schewe me schale in þo schyre howsez,\nAs þe beryl bornyst byhouez be clene.\nÞat is sounde on vche a syde & no sem habes,\nWithouten maskle oþer mote, as margerye-perle.\nSyþen þe Souerayn in sete so sore forþot\nÞat euer He man vpon molde merked to lyuy,\nFor he in fylþe watz fallen, felly He uenged,\nQuen fourferde alle þe flesch þat He formed hade.\nHym rwed þat He hem vprerde & rat hem lyflode;\n& efte þat He hem vndyd, hard hit Hym þot.\nFor quen þe swemande sore sot to His hert,\nHe knyt a couenaunde cortaysly with monkynde þere,\nIn þe mesure of His mode & meþe of His wylle,\nÞat He schulde neuer for no syt smyte al at onez,\nAs to quelle alle quykez for qued þat myt falle,\nWhyl of þe lenþe of þe londe lastez þe terme.\nÞat ilke skyl for no scaþe ascaped Hym neuer.\nWheder wonderly He wrak on wykked men after,\nFul felly for þat ilk faute forferde a kyth ryche,\nIn þe anger of His ire, þat ared mony;\n& al watz for þis ilk euel, þat vnhappen glette,\nÞe venym & þe vylanye & þe vycios fylþe\nÞat bysulpez mannez saule in vnsounde hert,\nÞat he his Saueour ne see with syt of his yen.\nAlle illez He hates as helle þat alle stynkkez;\nBot non nuyez Hym on nat ne neuer vpon dayez\nAs harlottrye vnhonest, heþyng of seluen:\nÞat schamez for no schrewedschyp, schent mot he worþe.\nBot sauyour, mon, in þyself, þaþou a sotte lyuie,\nÞaþou bere þyself babel, byþenk þe sumtyme\nWheþer He þat stykked vche a stare in vche steppe ye,\nif Hymsel[f] be bore blynde hit is a brod wonder;\n& He þat fetly in face fettled alle eres,\nIf he hatz losed þe lysten hit lyftez meruayle:\nTrave þou neuer þat tale, vntrwe þou hit fyndez.\nÞer is no dede so derne þat dittez His yen;\nÞer is no wye in his werk so war ne so stylle\nÞat hit ne þrawez to Hym þr[o] er he hit þot haue.\nFor He is þe gropande God, þe grounde of alle dedez,\nRypande of vche a ring þe reynyez & hert.\n& þere He fyndez al fayre a freke wythinne,\nÞat hert honest & hol, þat haþel He honourez,\nSendez hym a sad syt: to se His auen face,\n& harde honysez þise oþer, & of His erde flemez.\nBot of þe dome of þe douþe for dedez of schame,\nHe is so skoymos of þat skaþe, He scarrez bylyue;\nHe may not drye to draw allyt, bot drepez in hast:\n& þat watz schewed schortly by a scaþe onez.\nOlde Abraham in erde onez he syttez\nEuen byfore his hous-dore, vnder an oke grene;\nBryt blykked þe bem of þe brode heuen;\nIn þe hye hete þerof Abraham bidez:\nHe watz schunt to þe schadow vnder schyre leuez.\nÞenne watz he war on þe waye of wlonk Wyez þrynne;\nIf þay wer farande & fre & fayre to beholde\nHit is eþe to leue by þe last ende.\nFor þe lede þat þer laye þe leuez anvnder,\nWhen he hade of Hem syt he hyez bylyue,\n& as to God þe goodmon gos Hem agaynez\n& haylsed Hem in onhede, & sayde: ‘Hende Lorde,\nif euer Þy mon vpon molde merit disserued,\nLenge a lyttel with Þy lede, I loly biseche;\nPasse neuer fro Þi pouere, if I hit pray durst,\nEr Þou haf biden with Þi burne & vnder boe restted,\n& I schal wynne Yow wyt of water a lyttel,\n& fast aboute schal I fare Your fette wer waschene.\nResttez here on þis rote & I schal rachche after\n& brynge a morsel of bred to banne Your hertte.’\n‘Fare forthe,’ quoþ þe Frekez, ‘& fech as þou seggez;\nBy bole of þis brode tre We byde þe here.’\nÞenne orppedly into his hous he hyed to Sare,\nCommaunded hir to be cof & quyk at þis onez:\n‘Þre mettez of mele menge & ma kakez;\nVnder askez ful hote happe hem byliue;\nQuyl I fete sumquat fat, þou þe fyr bete,\nPrestly at þis ilke poynte sum polment to make.’\nHe cached to his covhous & a calf bryngez,\nÞat watz tender & not toe, bed tyrue of þe hyde,\n& sayde to his seruaunt þat hit seþe faste;\n& he deruely at his dome dyt hit bylyue.\nÞe burne to be bare-heued buskez hym þenne,\nClechez to a clene cloþe & kestez on þe grene,\nÞrwe þryftyly þeron þo þre þerue kakez,\n& bryngez butter wythal & by þe bred settez;\nMete messez of mylke he merkkez bytwene,\nSyþen potage & polment in plater honest.\nAs sewer in a god assyse he serued Hem fayre,\nWyth sadde semblaunt & swete of such as he hade;\n& God as a glad gest mad god chere\nÞat watz fayn of his frende, & his fest praysed.\nAbraham, al hodlez, with armez vp-folden,\nMynystred mete byfore þo Men þat mytes al weldez.\nÞenne Þay sayden as Þay sete samen alle þrynne,\nWhen þe mete watz remued & Þay of mensk speken,\n‘I schal efte hereaway, Abram,’ Þay sayden,\n‘et er þy lyuez lyt leþe vpon erþe,\n& þenne schal Sare consayue & a sun bere,\nÞat schal be Abrahamez ayre & after hym wynne\nWith wele & wyth worschyp þe worþely peple\nÞat schal halde in heritage þat I haf men ark[ed].’\nÞenne þe burde byhynde þe dor for busmar laed;\n& sayde sothly to hirself Sare þe madde:\n‘May þou traw for tykle þat þou tonne motez,\n& I so hye out of age, & also my lorde?’\nFor soþely, as says þe wryt, he wern of sadde elde,\nBoþe þe wye & his wyf, such werk watz hem fayled\nFro mony a brod day byfore; ho barayn ay byene,\nÞat selue Sare, withouten sede into þat same tyme.\nÞenne sayde oure Syre þer He sete: ‘Se! so Sare laes,\nNot trawande þe tale þat I þe to schewed.\nHopez ho ot may be harde My hondez to work?\n& et I avow verayly þe avaunt þat I made;\nI schal eply aayn & elde þat I hyt,\n& sothely send to Sare a soun & an hayre.’\nÞenne swenged forth Sare & swer by hir trawþe\nÞat for lot þat Þay laused ho laed neuer.\n‘Now innoghe: hit is not so,’ þenne nurned þe Drytyn,\n‘For þou laed alo, bot let we hit one.’\nWith þat Þay ros vp radly, as Þay rayke schulde,\n& setten toward Sodamas Her syt alle at onez;\nFor þat cite þerbysyde watz sette in a vale,\nNo mylez fro Mambre mo þen tweyne,\nWhereso wonyed þis ilke wy, þat wendez with oure Lorde\nFor to tent Hym with tale & teche Hym þe gate.\nÞen glydez forth God; þe godmon Hym folez;\nAbraham heldez Hem wyth, Hem to conueye\nIn towarde þe cety of Sodamas þat synned had þenne\nIn þe faute of þis fylþe. Þe Fader hem þretes,\n& sayde þus to þe segg þat sued Hym after:\n‘How myt I hyde Myn hert fro Habraham þe trwe,\nÞat I ne dyscouered to his corse My counsayl so dere,\nSyþen he is chosen to be chef chyldryn fader,\nÞat so folk schal falle fro to flete alle þe worlde,\n& vche blod in þat burne blessed schal worþe?\nMe bos telle to þat tolk þe tene of My wylle,\n& alle Myn atlyng to Abraham vnhaspe bilyue.\nThe grete soun of Sodamas synkkez in Myn erez,\n& þe gult of Gomorre garez Me to wrath.\nI schal lyt into þat led & loke Myseluen\n[If] þay haf don as þe dyne dryuez on lofte.\nÞay han lerned a lyst þat lykez me ille,\nÞat þay han founden in her flesch of fautez þe werst:\nVch male matz his mach a man as hymseluen,\n& fylter folyly in fere on femmalez wyse.\nI compast hem a kynde crafte & kende hit hem derne,\n& amed hit in Myn ordenaunce oddely dere,\n& dyt drwry þerinne, doole alþer-swettest,\n& þe play of paramorez I portrayed Myseluen,\n& made þerto a maner myriest of oþer:\nWhen two true togeder had tyed hemseluen,\nBytwene a male & his make such merþe schulde conne,\nWelnye pure paradys mot preue no better;\nEllez þay mot honestly ayþer oþer welde,\nAt a stylle stollen steuen, vnstered wyth syt,\nLuf-lowe hem bytwene lasched so hote\nÞat alle þe meschefez on mold mot hit not sleke.\nNow haf þay skyfted My skyl & scorned natwre,\n& henttez hem in heþyng an vsage vnclene.\nHem to smyte for þat smod smartly I þenk,\nÞat wyez schal be by hem war, worlde withouten ende.’\nÞenne ared Abraham & alle his mod chaunge[d],\nFor hope of þe harde hate þat hyt hatz oure Lorde.\nAl sykande he sayde: ‘Sir, with Yor leue,\nSchal synful & saklez suffer al on payne?\nWeþer euer hit lyke my Lorde to lyfte such domez\nÞat þe wykked & þe worþy schal on wrake suffer,\n& weye vpon þe worre half þat wrathed Þe neuer?\nÞat watz neuer Þy won þat wrotez vus alle.\nNow fyfty fyn frendez wer founde in onde toune,\nIn þe cety of Sodamas & also Gomorre,\nÞat neuer lakked Þy laue, bot loued ay trauþe,\n& retful wern & resounable & redy Þe to serue,\nSchal þay falle in þe faute þat oþer frekez wrot,\n& joyne to her juggement, her juise to haue?\nÞat nas neuer Þyn note, vnneuened hit worþe,\nÞat art so gaynly a God & of goste mylde.’\n‘Nay, for fyfty,’ quoþ þe Fader, ‘& þy fayre speche,\n& þay be founden in þat folk of her fylþe clene,\nI schal forgyue alle þe gylt þurMy grace one,\n& let hem smolt al unsmyten smoþely at onez.’\n‘Aa! blessed be Þow,’ quoþ þe burne, ‘so boner & þewed,\n& al haldez in Þy honde, þe heuen & þe erþe;\nBot, for I haf þis talke tatz to non ille\nif I mele a lyttel more þat mul am & askez.\nWhat if fyue faylen of fyfty þe noumbre,\n& þe remnaunt be reken, how restes Þy wylle?’\n‘And fyue wont of fyfty,’ quoþ God, ‘I schal forete alle\n& wythhalde My honde for hortyng on lede.’\n‘& quat if faurty be fre & fauty þyse oþer:\nSchalt Þow schortly al schende & schape non oþer?’\n‘Nay, þafaurty forfete, et fryst I a whyle,\n& voyde away My vengaunce, þaMe vyl þynk.’\nÞen Abraham obeched Hym & loly Him þonkkez:\n‘Now sayned be Þou, Sauiour, so symple in Þy wrath!\nI am bot erþe ful euel & vsle so blake,\nFor to mele wyth such a Mayster as mytez hatz alle.\nBot I haue bygonnen wyth my God, & He hit gayn þynkez;\nif I forloyne as a fol Þy fraunchyse may serue.\nWhat if þretty þryuande be þrad in on tounez,\nWhat schal I leue of my Lorde, [i]f He hem leþe wolde?’\nÞenne þe godlych God gef hym onsware:\n‘et for þretty in þrong I schal My þro steke,\n& spare spakly of spyt in space of My þewez,\n& My rankor refrayne four þy reken wordez.’\n‘What for twenty,’ quoþ þe tolke, ‘vntwynez Þou hem þenne?’\n‘Nay, if þou ernez hit et, ark I hem grace;\nIf þat twenty be trwe, I tene hem no more,\nBot relece alle þat regioun of her ronk werkkez.’\n‘Now, aþel Lorde,’ quoþ Abraham, ‘onez a speche,\n& I schal schape no more þo schalkkez to helpe.\nIf ten trysty in toune be tan in Þi werkkez,\nWylt Þou mese Þy mode & menddyng abyde?’\n‘I graunt,’ quoþ þe grete God, ‘Graunt mercy,’ þat oþer;\n& þenne arest þe renk & rat no fyrre.\n& Godde glydez His gate by þose grene wayez,\n& he conueyen Hym con with cast of his ye;\n& als he loked along þereas oure Lorde passed,\net he cryed Hym after with careful steuen:\n‘Meke Mayster, on Þy mon to mynne if Þe lyked,\nLoth lengez in on leede þat is my lef broþer;\nHe syttez þer in Sodomis, þy seruaunt so pouere,\nAmong þo mansed men þat han Þe much greued.\nif Þou tynez þat toun, tempre Þyn yre,\nAs Þy mersy may malte, Þy meke to spare.’\nÞen he wendez, wendez his way, wepande for care,\nTowarde þe mere of Mambre, wepande for sorewe;\n& þere in longyng al nyt he lengez in wones,\nWhyl þe Souerayn to Sodamas sende to spye.\nHis sondes into Sodamas watz sende in þat tyme,\nIn þat ilk euentyde, by aungels tweyne,\nMeuand meuande mekely togeder as myry men onge,\nAs Loot in a loge dor lened hym alone,\nIn a porche of þat place pyt to þe ates,\nÞat watz ryal & ryche so watz þe renkes seluen.\nHe sye þer swey in asent swete men tweyne;\nBolde burnez wer þay boþe with berdles chynnez,\nRyol rollande fax to raw sylk lyke,\nOf ble as þe brere-flour whereso þe bare scheweed.\nFul clene watz þe countenaunce of her cler yen;\nWlonk whit watz her wede & wel hit hem semed.\nOf alle feturez ful fyn & fautlez boþe;\nWatz non autly in ouþer, for aungels hit wern,\n& þat þe ep vnderede þat in þe ate syttez;\nHe ros vp ful radly & ran hem to mete,\n& loe he loutez hem to, Loth, to þe grounde,\n& syþen soberly: ‘Syrez, I yow byseche\nÞat e wolde lyt at my loge & lenge þerinne.\nComez to your knaues kote, I craue at þis onez;\nI schal fette yow a fatte your fette for to wasche;\nI norne yow bot for on nyt nee me to lenge,\n& in þe myry mornyng e may your waye take.’\n& þay nay þat þay nolde neno howsez,\nBot stylly þer in þe strete as þay stadde wern\nÞay wolde lenge þe long nat & logge þeroute:\nHit watz hous innoe to hem þe heuen vpon lofte.\nLoth laþed so longe wyth luflych wordez\nÞat þay hym graunted to go & grut no lenger.\nÞe bolde to his byggyng bryngez hem bylyue,\nÞat [watz] ryally arayed, for he watz ryche euer.\nÞe wyez wern welcom as þe wyf couþe;\nHis two dere doterez deuoutly hem haylsed,\nÞat wer maydenez ful meke, maryed not et,\n& þay wer semly & swete, & swyþe wel arayed.\nLoth þenne ful lytly lokez hym aboute,\n& his men amonestes mete for to dyt:\n‘Bot þenkkez on hit be þrefte what þynk so e make,\nFor wyth no sour no no salt seruez hym neuer.’\nBot et I wene þat þe wyf hit wroth to dyspyt,\n& sayde softely to hirself: ‘Þis vn[s]auere hyne\nLouez no salt in her sauce; et hit no skyl were\nÞat oþer burne be boute, þaboþe be nyse.’\nÞenne ho sauerez with salt her seuez vchone,\nAgayne þe bone of þe burne þat hit forboden hade,\n& als ho scelt hem in scorne þat wel her skyl knewen.\nWhy watz ho, wrech, so wod? Ho wrathed oure Lorde.\nÞenne seten þay at þe soper, wern serued bylyue,\nÞe gestes gay & ful glad, of glam debonere,\nWelawynnely wlonk, tyl þay waschen hade,\nÞe trestes tylt to þe woe & þe table boþe.\nFro þe seggez haden souped & seten bot a whyle,\nEr euer þay bosked to bedde, þe borwatz al vp,\nAlle þat weppen myt welde, þe wakker & þe stronger,\nTo vmbelye Lothez hous þe ledez to take.\nIn grete flokkez of folk þay fallen to his atez;\nAs a scowte-wach scarred so þe asscry rysed;\nWith kene clobbez of þat clos þay clatz on þe wowez,\n& wyth a schrylle scarp schout þay schewe þyse worde[z]:\n‘If þou louyez þy lyf, Loth, in þyse wones,\nete vus out þose ong men þat ore-whyle here entred,\nÞat we may lere hym of lof, as oure lyst biddez,\nAs is þe asyse of Sodomas to seggez þat passen.’\nWhatt! þay sputen & speken of so spitous fylþe,\nWhat! þay eed & olped of estande sore,\nÞat et þe wynd & þe weder & þe worlde stynkes\nOf þe brych þat vpbraydez þose broþelych wordez.\nÞe godman glyfte with þat glam & gloped for noyse;\nSo scharpe schame to hym schot, he schrank at þe hert.\nFor he knew þe costoum þat kyþed þose wrechez,\nHe doted neuer for no doel so depe in his mynde.\n‘Allas!’ sayd hym þenne Loth, & lytly he rysez,\n& bowez forth fro þe bench into þe brode ates.\nWhat! he wonded no woþe of wekked knauez,\nÞat he ne passed þe port þe p[er]il to abide.\nHe went forthe at þe wyket & waft hit hym after,\nÞat a clyket hit clet clos hym byhynde.\nÞenne he meled to þo men mesurable wordez,\nFor harlotez with his hendelayk he hoped to chast:\n‘Oo, my frendez so fre, your fare is to strange;\nDotz away your derf dyn & derez neuer my gestes.\nAvoy! hit is your vylaynye, e vylen yourseluen;\n& e are jolyf gentylmen, your japez ar ille\nBot I schal kenne yow by kynde a crafte þat is better:\nI haf a tresor in my telde of tow my fayre deter,\nÞat ar maydenez vnmard for alle men ette;\nIn Sodamas, þaI hit say, non semloker burdes;\nHit arn ronk, hit arn rype, & redy to manne;\nTo samen wyth þo semly þe solace is better.\nI schal biteche yow þo two þat tayt arn & quoynt,\n& laykez wyth hem as yow lyst, & letez my gestes one.’\nÞenne þe rebaudez so ronk rerd such a noyse\nÞat aly hurled in his erez her harlotez speche:\n‘Wost þou not wel þat þou wonez here a wye strange,\nAn outcomlyng, a carle? We kylle of þyn heued!\nWho joyned þe be jostyse oure japez to blame,\nÞat com a boy to þis bor, þaþou be burne ryche?’\nÞus þay þrobled & þrong & þrwe vmbe his erez,\n& distresed hym wonder strayt with strenkþe in þe prece,\nBot þat þe onge men, so epe, ornen þeroute,\nWapped vpon þe wyket & wonnen hem tylle,\n& by þe hondez hym hent & horyed hym withinne,\n& steken þe ates ston-harde wyth stalworth barrez.\nÞay blwe a boffet inblande þat banned peple,\nÞat þay blustered, as blynde as Bayard watz euer;\nÞay lest of Lotez logging any lysoun to fynde,\nBot nyteled þer alle þe nyt for not at þe last.\nÞenne vch tolke tyt hem, þat hade of tayt fayled,\n& vchon roþeled to þe rest þat he reche mot;\nBot þay wern wakned al wrank þat þer in won lenged,\nOf on þe vglokest vnhap þat euer on erd suffred.\nRuddon of þe day-rawe ros vpon vten,\nWhen merk of þe mydnyt mot no more last.\nFul erly þose aungelez þis haþel þay ruþen,\n& glopnedly on Godez halue gart hym vpryse;\nFast þe freke ferkez vp ful ferd at his hert;\nÞay comaunded hym cof to cach þat he hade,\n‘Wyth þy wyf & þy wyez & þy wlonc detters,\nFor we laþe þe, sir Loth, þat þou þy lyf haue.\nCayre tid of þis kythe er combred þou worþe,\nWith alle þi here vpon haste, tyl þou a hil fynde;\nFoundez faste on your fete; bifore your face lokes,\nBot bes neuer so bolde to blusch yow bihynde,\n& loke e stemme no stepe, bot strechez on faste;\nTil e reche to a reset, rest e neuer.\nFor we schal tyne þis toun & trayþely disstrye,\nWyth alle þise wyez so wykke wytly devoyde,\n& alle þe londe with þise ledez we losen at onez;\nSodomas schal ful sodenly synk into grounde,\n& þe grounde of Gomorre gorde into helle,\n& vche a koste of þis kythe clater vpon hepes.’\nÞen laled Loth: ‘Lorde, what is best?\nIf I me fele vpon fote þat I fle mot,\nHov schulde I huyde me fro H[y]m þat hatz His hate kynned\nIn þe brath of His breth þat brennez alle þinkez?\nTo crepe fro my Creatour & know not wheder,\nNe wheþer His fooschip me folez bifore oþer bihynde.’\nÞe freke sayde: ‘No foschip oure Fader hatz þe schewed,\nBot hily heuened þi hele fro hem þat arn combred.\nNov wale þe a wonnyng þat þe warisch myt,\n& He schal saue hit for þy sake þat hatz vus sende hider,\nFor þou art oddely þyn one out of þis fylþe,\n& als Abraham þyn eme hit at Himself asked.’\n‘Lorde, loued He worþe,’ quoþ Loth, ‘vpon erþe!\nÞen is a cite herbisyde þat Segor hit hatte,\nHere vtter on a rounde hil hit houez hit one.\nI wolde, if His wylle wore, to þat won scape.’\n‘Þenn fare forth,’ quoþ þat fre, ‘& fyne þou neuer,\nWith þose ilk þat þow wylt þat þrenge þe after,\n& ay goande on your gate, wythouten agayn-tote,\nFor alle þis londe schal be lorne longe er þe sonne rise.’\nÞe wye wakened his wyf & his wlonk deteres,\n& oþer two myri men þo maydenez schulde wedde;\n& þay token hit as tyt & tented hit lyttel;\nÞafast laþed hem Loth, þay leen ful stylle.\nÞe aungelez hasted þise oþer & aly hem þratten,\n& enforsed alle fawre forth at þe atez:\nÞo wern Loth & his lef, his luflyche deter;\nÞer sot no mo to sauement of cities aþel fyue.\nÞise aungelez hade hem by hande out at þe atez,\nPrechande hem þe perile, & beden hem passe fast:\n‘Lest e be taken in þe teche of tyrauntez here,\nLoke e bowe now bi bot; bowez fast hence!’\n& þay kayre ne con, & kenely flowen.\nErly, er any heuen-glem, þay to a hil comen.\nÞe grete God in His greme bygynnez on lofte\nTo wakan wederez so wylde; þe wyndez He callez,\n& þay wroþely vpwafte & wrastled togeder,\nFro fawre half of þe folde flytande loude.\nClowdez clustered bytwene kesten vp torres,\nÞat þe þik þunder-þrast þirled hem ofte.\nOf felle flaunkes of fyr & flakes of soufre,\nAl in smolderande smoke smachande ful ille,\nSwe aboute Sodamas & hit sydez alle,\nGorde to Gomorra, þat þe grounde laused,\nAbdama & Syboym, þise ceteis alle faure\nAl birolled wyth þe rayn, rostted & brenned,\n& ferly flayed þat folk þat in þose fees lenged.\nFor when þat þe Helle herde þe houndez of heuen,\nÞe grete barrez of þe abyme he barst vp at onez,\nÞat alle þe regioun torof in riftes ful grete,\n& clouen alle in lyttel cloutes þe clyffez aywhere,\nAs lauce leuez of þe boke þat lepes in twynne.\nÞe brethe of þe brynston bi þat hit blende were,\nAl þo citees & her sydes sunkken to helle.\nRydelles wern þo grete rowtes of renkkes withinne,\nWhen þay wern war of þe wrake þat no wye achaped;\nSuch a omerly arm of ellyng þer rysed,\nÞerof clatered þe cloudes, þat Kryst myt haf rawþe.\nÞe segge herde þat soun to Segor þat ede,\n& þe wenches hym wyth þat by þe way foled;\nFerly ferde watz her flesch þat flowen ay ilyche,\nTrynande ay a hye trot, þat torne neuer dorsten.\nLoth & þo luly-whit, his lefly two deter,\nAy foled here face, bifore her boþe yen;\nBot þe balleful burde, þat neuer bode keped,\nBlusched byhynden her bak þat bale for to herkken.\nHit watz lusty Lothes wyf þat ouer he[r] lyfte schulder\nOnes ho bluschet to þe bure, bot bod ho no lenger\nÞat ho nas stadde a stiffe ston, a stalworth image,\nAl so salt as ani se, & so ho et standez.\nÞay slypped bi & sye hir not þat wern hir samen-feres,\nTyl þay in Segor wern sette, & sayned our Lorde;\nWyth lyt louez vplyfte þay loued Hym swyþe,\nÞat so His seruauntes wolde see & saue of such woþe.\nAl watz dampped & don & drowned by þenne;\nÞe ledez of þat lyttel toun wern lopen out for drede\nInto þat malscrande mere, marred bylyue,\nÞat not saued watz bot Segor, þat sat on a lawe.\nÞe þre ledez þerin, Loth & his deter;\nFor his make watz myst, þat on þe mount lenged\nIn a stonen statue þat salt sauor habbes,\nFor two fautes þat þe fol watz founde in mistrauþe:\nOn, ho serued at þe soper salt bifore Drytyn,\n& syþen, ho blusched hir bihynde, þahir forboden were;\nFor on ho standes a ston, & salt for þat oþer,\n& alle lyst on hir lik þat arn on launde bestes.\nAbraham ful erly watz vp on þe morne,\nÞat alle nat much niye hade no mon in his hert,\nAl in longing for Loth leyen in a wache;\nÞer he lafte hade oure Lorde he is on lofte wonnen;\nHe sende toward Sodomas þe syt of his yen,\nÞat euer hade ben an erde of erþe þe swettest,\nAs aparaunt to paradis, þat plantted þe Drytyn;\nNov is hit plunged in a pit like of pich fylled.\nWhen bryt brennande brondez ar bet þeranvnder.\nÞis watz a uengaunce violent þat voyded þise places,\nÞat foundered hatz so fayr a folk & þe folde sonkken.\nÞer þe fyue citees wern set nov is a see called,\nÞat ay is drouy & dym, & ded in hit kynde,\nBlo, blubrande, & blak, vnblyþe to nee;\nAs a stynkande stanc þat stryed synne,\nÞat euer of synne & of smach smart is to fele.\nForþy þe derk Dede See hit is demed euermore,\nFor hit dedez of deþe duren þere et;\nFor hit is brod & boþemlez, & bitter as þe galle,\n& not may lenge in þat lake þat any lyf berez,\n& alle þe costez of kynde hit combrez vchone.\nFor lay þeron a lump of led, & hit on loft fletez,\n& folde þeron a lyt fyþer, & hit to founs synkkez;\n& þer water may walter to wete any erþe\nSchal neuer grene þeron growe, gresse ne wod nawþer.\nIf any schalke to be schent wer schowued þerinne,\nÞahe bode in þat boþem broþely a monyth,\nHe most ay lyue in þat loe in losyng euermore,\n& neuer drye no dethe to dayes of ende.\n& as hit is corsed of kynde & hit coostez als,\nÞe clay þat clenges þerby arn corsyes strong,\nAs alum & alkaran, þat angre arn boþe,\nSoufre sour & saundyuer, & oþer such mony;\n& þer waltez of þat water in waxlokes grete\nÞe spuniande aspaltoun þat spyserez sellen;\n& suche is alle þe soyle by þat se halues,\nÞat fel fretes þe flesch & festred bones.\n& þer ar tres by þat terne of traytoures,\n& þay borgounez & beres blomez ful fayre,\n& þe fayrest fryt þat may on folde growe,\nAs orenge & oþer fryt & apple-garnade,\nAlso red & so ripe & rychely hwed\nAs any dom myt deuice of dayntyez oute;\nBot quen hit is brused oþer broken, oþer byten in twynne,\nNo worldez goud hit wythinne, bot wyndowande askes.\nAlle þyse ar teches & tokenes to trow vpon et,\n& wittnesse of þat wykked werk, & þe wrake after\nÞat oure Fader forferde for fylþe of þose ledes.\nÞenne vch wye may wel wyt þat He þe wlonk louies;\n& if He louyes clene layk þat is oure Lorde ryche,\n& to be couþe in His courte þou coueytes þenne,\nTo se þat Semly in sete & His swete face,\nClerrer counseyl, counseyl con I non, bot þat þou clene worþe.\nFor Clopyngnel in þe compas of his clene Rose,\nÞer he expounez a speche to hym þat spede wolde\nOf a lady to be loued: ‘Loke to hir sone\nOf wich beryng þat ho be, & wych ho best louyes,\n& be ryt such in vch a bore of body & of dedes,\n& folþe fet of þat fere þat þou fre haldes;\n& if þou wyrkkes on þis wyse, þaho wyk were,\nHir schal lyke þat layk þat lyknes hir tylle.’\nIf þou wyl dele drwrye wyth Drytyn þenne,\n& lelly louy þy Lorde & His leef worþe,\nÞenne confourme þe to Kryst, & þe clene make,\nÞat euer is polyced als playn as þe perle seluen.\nFor, loke, fro fyrst þat He lyt withinne þe lel mayden,\nBy how comly a kest He watz clos þere,\nWhen venkkyst watz no vergynyte, ne vyolence maked,\nBot much clener watz hir corse, God kynned þerinne.\n& efte when He borne watz in Beþelen þe ryche,\nIn wych puryte þay departed; þaþay pouer were,\nWatz neuer so blysful a bour as watz a bos þenne,\nNe no schroude hous so schene as a schepon þare,\nNe non so glad vnder God as ho þat grone schulde.\nFor þer watz seknesse al sounde þat sarrest is halden,\n& þer watz rose reflayr where rote hatz ben euer,\n& þer watz solace & songe wher sorhatz ay cryed;\nFor aungelles with instrumentes of organes & pypes,\n& rial ryngande rotes & þe reken fyþel,\n& alle hende þat honestly mot an hert glade,\nAboutte my lady watz lent quen ho delyuer were.\nÞenne watz her blyþe Barne burnyst so clene\nÞat boþe þe ox & þe asse Hym hered at ones;\nÞay knewe Hym by His clannes for Kyng of nature,\nFor non so clene of such a clos com neuer er þenne.\n& if clanly He þenne com, ful cortays þerafter,\nÞat alle þat longed to luþer ful lodly He hated,\nBy nobleye of His norture He nolde neuer towche\nOt þat watz vngoderly oþer ordure watz inne.\net comen lodly to þat Lede, as lazares monye,\nSumme lepre, summe lome, & lomerande blynde,\nPoysened, & parlatyk, & pyned in fyres,\nDrye folk & ydropike, & dede at þe laste,\nAlle called on þat Cortayse & claymed His grace.\nHe heled hem wyth hynde speche of þat þay ask after,\nFor whatso He towched also tyd tourned to hele,\nWel clanner þen any crafte cowþe devyse.\nSo clene watz His hondelyng vche ordure hit schonied,\n& þe gropyng so goud of God & Man boþe,\nÞat for fetys of His fyngeres fonded He neuer\nNauþer to cout ne to kerue with knyf ne wyth egge;\nForþy brek He þe bred blades wythouten,\nFor hit ferde freloker in fete in His fayre honde,\nDisplayed more pryuyly when He hit part schulde,\nÞenne alle þe toles of Tolowse mot tyt hit to kerue.\nÞus is He kyryous & clene þat þou His cort askes:\nHov schulde þou com to His kyth bot if þou clene were?\nNov ar we sore & synful & sovly vchone;\nHow schulde we se, þen may we say, þat Syre vpon throne?\nis, þat Mayster is mercyable, þaþou be man fenny,\n& al tomarred in myre whyle þou on molde lyuyes;\nÞou may schyne þurschryfte, þaþou haf schome serued,\n& pure þe with penaunce tyl þou a perle worþe.\nPerle praysed is prys þer perre is schewed,\nÞahym not derrest be demed to dele for penies.\nQuat may þe cause be called bot for hir clene hwes,\nÞat wynnes worschyp abof alle whyte stones?\nFor ho schynes so schyr þat is of schap rounde,\nWythouten faut oþer fylþe if ho fyn were,\n& wax euer in þe worlde in weryng so olde,\net þe perle payres not whyle ho in pyese lasttes;\n& if hit cheue þe chaunce vncheryst ho worþe,\nÞat ho blyndes of ble in bour þer ho lygges,\nNobot wasch hir wyth wourchyp in wyn as ho askes,\nHo by kynde schal becom clerer þen are.\nSo if folk be defowled by vnfre chaunce,\nÞat he be sulped in sawle, seche to schryfte,\n& he may polyce hym at þe prest, by penaunce taken,\nWel bryter þen þe beryl oþer browden perles.\nBot war þe wel, if þou be waschen wyth water of schryfte,\n& polysed als playn as parchmen schauen,\nSulp no more þenne in synne þy saule þerafter,\nFor þenne þou Drytyn dyspleses with dedes ful sore,\n& entyses Hym to tene more trayþly þen euer,\n& wel hatter to hate þen hade þou no waschen.\nFor when a sawele is satled & sakred to Drytyn,\nHe holly haldes hit His & haue hit He wolde;\nÞenne efte lastes hit likkes, He loses hit ille,\nAs hit were rafte wyth vnryt & robbed wyth þewes.\nWar þe þenne for þe wrake: His wrath is achaufed\nFor þat þat ones watz His schulde efte be vnclene,\nÞahit be bot a bassyn, a bolle oþer a scole,\nA dysche oþer a dobler, þat Drytyn onez serued.\nTo defowle hit euer vpon folde fast He forbedes,\nSo is He scoymus of scaþe þat scylful is euer.\n& þat watz bared in Babyloyn in Baltazar tyme,\nHov harde vnhap þer hym hent & hastyly sone,\nFor he þe vesselles avyled þat vayled in þe temple\nIn seruyse of þe Souerayn sumtyme byfore.\nif e wolde tyt me a tom telle hit I wolde,\nHov charged more watz his chaunce þat hem cherych nolde\nÞen his fader forloyne þat feched hem wyth strenþe,\n& robbed þe relygioun of relykes alle.\nDanyel in his dialokez devysed sumtyme,\nAs et is proued expresse in his profecies,\nHov þe gentryse of Juise & Jherusalem þe ryche\nWatz disstryed wyth distres, & drawen to þe erþe.\nFor þat folke in her fayth watz founden vntrwe,\nÞat haden hyt þe hye God to halde of Hym euer;\n& He hem haled for His & help at her nede\nIn mukel meschefes mony, þat meruayl [is] to here.\n& þay forloyne her fayth & foled oþer goddes,\n& þat wakned His wrath & wrast hit so hye\nÞat He fylsened þe faythful in þe falce lawe\nTo forfare þe falce in þe faythe trwe.\nHit watz sen in þat syþe þat Zedethyas rengned\nIn Juda, þat justised þe Juyne kynges.\nHe sete on Salamones solie on solemne wyse,\nBot of leaute he watz lat to his Lorde hende:\nHe vsed abominaciones of idolatrye,\n& lette lyt bi þe lawe þat he watz lege tylle.\nForþi oure Fader vpon folde a foman hym wakned:\nNabigodenozar nuyed hym swyþe.\nHe pursued into Palastyn with proude men mony,\n& þer he wast wyth with werre þe wones of þorpes;\nHe hered vp alle Israel & hent of þe beste,\n& þe gentylest of Judee in Jerusalem biseged,\nVmbewalt alle þe walles wyth wyes ful stronge,\nAt vche a dor a doty duk, & dutte hem wythinne;\nFor þe borwatz so bygge baytayled alofte,\n& stoffed wythinne with stout men to stalle hem þeroute.\nÞenne watz þe sege sette þe cete aboute,\nSkete skarmoch skelt, much skaþe lached;\nAt vch brugge a berfray on basteles wyse\nÞat seuen syþe vch a day asayled þe ates;\nTrwe tulkkes in toures teueled wythinne,\nIn bigge brutage of borde bulde on þe walles;\nÞay fet & þay fende of, & fylter togeder\nTil two er ouertorned, et tok þay hit neuer.\nAt þe laste, vpon longe, þo ledes wythinne,\nFaste fayled hem þe fode, enfannined monie;\nÞe hote hunger wythinne hert hem wel sarre\nÞen any dunt of þat douthe þat dowelled þeroute.\nÞenne wern þo rowtes redles in þo ryche wones;\nFro þat mete watz myst, megre þay wexen,\n& þay stoken so strayt þat þay ne stray myt\nA fote fro þat forselet to forray no goudes.\nWyth þe best of his burnes, a blench for to make;\nÞay stel out on a stylle nyt er any steuen rysed,\n& harde hurles þurþe oste er enmies hit wyste.\nBot er þay atwappe ne mot þe wach wythoute\nHie skelt watz þe askry þe skewes anvnder.\nLoude alarom vpon launde lulted watz þenne;\nHard hattes þay hent & on hors lepes;\nCler claryoun crak cryed on lofte.\nBy þat watz alle on a hepe hurlande swyþee,\nFolande þat oþer flote, & fonde hem bilyue,\nOuertok hem as tyd, tult hem of sadeles,\nTyl vche prynce hade his per put to þe grounde.\n& þer watz þe kyng kat wyth Calde prynces,\n& alle hise gentyle forjusted on Jerico playnes,\n& presented wern as presoneres to þe prynce rychest,\nNabigodenozar, noble in his chayer;\n& he þe faynest freke þat he his fo hade,\n& speke spitously hem to, & spylt þerafter.\nÞe kynges sunnes in his syt he slow euervch one,\n& holkked out his auen yen heterly boþe,\n& bede þe burne to be brot to Babyloyn þe ryche,\n& þere in dongoun be don to dree þer his wyrdes.\nNow se, so þe Soueray[n] set hatz His wrake:\nNas hit not for Nabugo ne his noble nauþer\nÞat oþer depryued watz of pryde with paynes stronge,\nBot for his beryng so badde agayn his blyþe Lorde;\nFor hade þe Fader ben his frende, þat hym bifore keped,\nNe neuer trespast to Him in teche of mysseleue,\nTo colde wer alle Calde & kythes of Ynde,\net take Torkye hem wyth, her tene hade ben little.\net nolde neuer Nabugo þis ilke note leue\nEr he hade tuyred þis toun & torne hit to grounde.\nHe joyned vnto Jerusalem a gentyle duc þenne,\nHis name watz Nabuzardan, to noye þe Jues;\nHe watz mayster of his men & myty himseluen,\nÞe chef of his cheualrye his chekkes to make;\nHe brek þe bareres as bylyue, & þe burafter,\n& enteres in ful ernestly, in yre of his hert.\nWhat! þe maysterry watz mene: þe men wern away,\nÞe best boed wyth þe burne þat þe boremed,\n& þo þat byden wer [s]o biten with þe bale hunger\nÞat on wyf hade ben worþe þe welgest fourre.\nNabizardan not forþy nolde not spare,\nBot bede al to þe bronde vnder bare egge;\nÞay slowen of swettest semlych burdes,\nBaþed barnes in blod & her brayn spylled;\nPrestes & prelates þay presed to deþe,\nWyues & wenches her wombes tocoruen,\nÞat her boweles outborst aboute þe diches,\n& al watz carfully kylde þat þay cach myt.\nAnd alle swypped, vnswoled of þe sworde kene,\nÞay wer cagged & kat on capeles al bare,\nFestned fettres to her fete vnder fole wombes,\n& broþely brot to Babyloyn þer bale to suffer,\nTo sytte in seruage & syte, þat sumtyme wer gentyle.\nNow ar chaunged to chorles & charged wyth werkkes,\nBoþe to cayre at þe kart & þe kuy mylke,\nÞat sumtyme sete in her sale syres & burdes.\n& et Nabuzardan nyl neuer stynt\nEr he to þe tempple tee wyth his tulkkes alle;\nBetes on þe barers, brestes vp þe ates,\nSlouen alle at a slyp þat serued þerinne,\nPulden prestes bi þe polle & plat of her hedes,\nDiten dekenes to deþe, dungen doun clerkkes,\n& alle þe maydenes of þe munster matyly hokyllen\nWyth þe swayf of þe sworde þat swoled hem alle.\nÞenne ran þay to þe relykes as robbors wylde,\n& pyled alle þe apparement þat pented to þe kyrke,\nÞe pure pyleres of bras pourtrayd in golde,\n& þe chef chaundeler charged with þe lyt,\nÞat ber þe lamp vpon lofte þat lemed euermore\nBifore þ[e] sancta sanctorumþer selcouth watz ofte.\nÞay cat away þat condelstik, & þe crowne als\nÞat þe auter hade vpon, of aþel golde ryche,\nÞe gredirne & þe goblotes garnyst of syluer,\nÞe bases of þe bryt postes & bassynes so schyre,\nDere disches of golde & dubleres fayre,\nÞe vyoles & þe vesselment of vertuous stones.\nNow hatz Nabuzardan nomen alle þyse noble þynges,\n& pyled þat precious place & pakked þose godes;\nÞe golde of þe gazafylace to swyþe gret noumbre,\nWyth alle þe vrnmentes of þat hous, he hamppred togeder;\nAlle he spoyled spitously in a sped whyle\nÞat Salomon so mony a sadde er sot to make.\nWyth alle þe coyntyse þat he cowþe clene to wyrke,\nDeuised he þe vesselment, þe vestures clene;\nWyth slyt of his ciences, his Souerayn to loue,\nÞe hous & þe anournementes he hytled togedere.\nNow hatz Nabuzardan numnend hit al samen,\n& syþen bet doun þe bur& brend hit in askes.\nÞenne wyth legiounes of ledes ouer londes he rydes,\nHerez of Israel þe hyrne aboute;\nWyth charged chariotes þe cheftayn he fynde,\nBikennes þe catel to þe kyng, þat he cat hade;\nPresented him þe prisoneres in pray þat þay token,\nMoni a worþly wye whil her worlde laste,\nMoni semly syre soun, & swyþe rych maydenes,\nÞe pruddest of þe prouince, & prophetes childer,\nAs Ananie & Azarie & als Mizael,\n& dere Daniel also, þat watz deuine noble,\nWith moni a modey moder-chylde mo þen innoghe.\n& Nabugo_de_nozar makes much joye,\nNov he þe kyng hatz conquest & þe kyth wunnen,\n& dreped alle þe dotyest & derrest in armes,\n& þe lederes of her lawe layd to þe grounde,\n& þe pryce of þe profetie prisoners maked.\nBot þe joy of þe juelrye so gentyle & ryche,\nWhen hit watz schewed hym so schene, scharp watz his wonder;\nOf such vessel auayed, þat vayled so huge,\nNeuer et nas Nabugo_de_nozar er þenne.\nHe sesed hem with solemnete, þe Souerayn he praysed\nÞat watz aþel ouer alle, Israel Drytyn:\nSuch god, such gomes, such gay vesselles,\nComen neuer out of kyth to Caldee reames.\nHe trussed hem in his tresorye in a tryed place,\nRekenly, wyth reuerens, as he ryt hade;\n& þer he wrot as þe wyse, as e may wyt hereafter,\nFor hade he let of hem lyt, hym mot haf lumpen worse.\nÞat ryche in gret rialte rengned his lyue,\nAs conquerour of vche a cost he cayser watz hatte,\nEmperour of alle þe erþe & also þe saudan,\n& als þe god of þe grounde watz grauen his name.\n& al þurdome of Daniel, fro he deuised hade\nÞat alle goudes com of God, & gef hit hym bi samples,\nÞat he ful clanly bicnv his carp bi þe laste,\n& ofte hit mekned his mynde, his maysterful werkkes.\nBot al drawes to dye with doel vp[o]n ende:\nBi a haþel neuer so hye, he heldes to grounde.\n& so Nabugo_de_nozar, as he nedes moste,\nFor alle his empire so hie in erþe is he grauen.\nBot þenn þe bolde Baltazar, þat watz his barn aldest,\nHe watz stalled in his stud, & stabled þe rengne\nIn þe burof Babiloyne, þe biggest he trawed,\nÞat nauþer in heuen ne [on] erþe hade no pere;\nFor he bigan in alle þe glori þat hym þe gome lafte,\nNabugo_de_nozar, þat watz his noble fader.\nSo kene a kyng in Caldee com neu[er] er þenne;\nBot honoured he not Hym þat in heuen wonies.\nBot fals fantummes of fendes, formed with handes,\nWyth tool out of harde tre, & telded on lofte,\n& of stokkes & stones, he stoute goddes callz,\nWhen þay ar gilde al with golde & gered wyth syluer;\n& þere he kneles & callez & clepes after help.\n& þay reden him ryt rewarde he hem hetes,\n& if þay gruchen him his grace, to gremen his hert,\nHe cleches to a gret klubbe & knokkes hem to peces.\nÞus in pryde & olipraunce his empyre he haldes,\nIn lust & in lecherye & loþelych werkkes,\n& hade a wyf for to welde, a worþelych quene,\n& mony a lemman, neuer þe later, þat ladis wer called.\nIn þe clernes of his concubines & curious wedez,\nIn notyng of nwe metes & of nice gettes,\nAl watz þe mynde of þat man on misschapen þinges,\nTil þe Lorde of þe lyfte liste hit abate.\nThenne þis bolde Baltazar biþenkkes hym ones\nTo vouche on avayment of his vayne g[l]orie;\nHit is not innoghe to þe nice al noty þink vse\nBot if alle þe worlde wyt his wykked dedes.\nBaltazar þurBabiloyn his banne gart crye,\n& þurþe cuntre of Caldee his callyng con spryng,\nÞat alle þe grete vpon grounde schulde geder hem samen\n& assemble at a set day at þe saudans fest.\nSuch a mangerie to make þe man watz auised,\nÞat vche a kythyn kyng schuld com þider,\nVche duk wyth his duthe, & oþer dere lordes,\nSchulde com to his court to kyþe hym for lege,\n& to reche hym reuerens, & his reuel herkken,\nTo loke on his lemanes & ladis hem calle.\nTo rose hym in his rialty rych men sotten,\n& mony a baroun ful bolde, to Babyloyn þe noble.\nÞer bowed toward Babiloyn burnes so mony,\nKynges, cayseres ful kene, to þe court wonnen,\nMony ludisch lordes þat ladies broten,\nÞat to neuen þe noumbre to much nye were.\nFor þe bourwatz so brod & so bigge alce,\nStalled in þe fayrest stud þe sterrez anvnder,\nPrudly on a plat playn, plek alþer-fayrest,\nVmbesweyed on vch a syde with seuen grete wateres,\nWith a wonder wrot walle wruxeled ful hie,\nWith koynt carneles aboue, coruen ful clene,\nTroched toures bitwene, twenty spere lenþe,\n& þiker þrowen vmbeþour with ouerþwert palle.\nÞe place þat plyed þe pursaunt wythinne\nWatz longe & ful large & euer ilych sware,\n& vch a syde vpon soyle helde seuen myle,\n& þe saudans sete sette in þe myddes.\nÞat watz a palayce of pryde passande alle oþer,\nBoþe of werk & of wunder, & walle[d] al aboute;\nHee houses withinne, þe halle to hit med,\nSo brod bilde in a bay þat blonkkes myt renne.\nWhen þe terme of þe tyde watz towched of þe feste,\nDere droen þerto & vpon des metten,\n& Baltazar vpon bench was busked to sete,\nStepe stayred stones of his stoute throne.\nÞenne watz alle þe halle flor hiled with knytes,\n& barounes at þe sidebordes bounet aywhere,\nFor non watz dressed vpon dece bot þe dere seluen,\n& his clere concubynes in cloþes ful bryt.\nWhen alle segges were þet set þen seruyse bygynnes,\nSturnen trumpen strake steuen in halle,\nAywhere by þe wowes wrasten krakkes,\n& brode baneres þerbi blusnande of gold,\nBurnes berande þe bredes vpon brode skeles\nÞat were of sylueren syt, & served þerwyth,\nLyfte logges þerouer & on lofte coruen,\nPared out of paper & poynted of golde,\nBroþe baboynes abof, besttes anvnder,\nFoles in foler flakerande bitwene,\n& al in asure & ynde enaumayld ryche;\n& al on blonkken bak bere hit on honde.\n& ay þe nakeryn noyse, notes of pipes,\nTymbres & tabornes, tulket among,\nSymbales & sonetez sware þe noyse,\n& bougounz busch batered so þikke.\nSo watz serued fele syþe þe sale alle aboute,\nWith solace at þe sere course, bifore þe self lorde,\nÞer þe lede & alle his loue lenged at þe table:\nSo faste þay weed to him wyne hit warmed his hert\n& breyþed vppe into his brayn & blemyst his mynde,\n& al waykned his wyt, & welnee he foles;\nFor he waytez on wyde, his wenches he byholdes,\n& his bolde baronage aboute bi þe woes.\nÞenne a dotage ful depe drof to his hert,\n& a caytif counsayl he cat bi hymseluen;\nMaynly his marschal þe mayster vpon calles,\n& comaundes hym cofly coferes to lauce,\n& fech forþ þe vessel þat his fader brot,\nNabugo_de_nozar, noble in his strenþe,\nConquered with his knytes & of kyrk rafte\nIn Jude, in Jerusalem, in gentyle wyse:\n‘Bryng hem now to my borde, of beuerage hem fylles,\nLet þise ladyes of hem lape, I luf hem in hert;\nÞat schal I cortaysly kyþe, & þay schin knawe sone,\nÞer is no bounte in burne lyk Baltazar þewes.’\nÞenne towched to þe tresour þis tale watz sone,\n& he with keyes vncloses kystes ful mony;\nMony burþen ful bryt watz brot into halle,\n& couered mony a cupborde with cloþes ful quite.\nÞe jueles out of Jerusalem with gemmes ful bryt\nÞe aþel auter of brasse watz hade into place,\nÞe gay coroun of golde gered on lofte.\nÞat hade ben blessed bifore wyth bischopes hondes\n& wyth besten blod busily anoynted,\nIn þe solempne sacrefyce þat goud sauor hade\nBifore þe Lorde of þe lyfte in louyng Hymseluen,\nNow is sette, for to serue Satanas þe blake,\nBifore þe bolde Baltazar wyth bost & wyth pryde;\nHouen vpon þis auter watz aþel vessel\nÞat wyth [s]o curious a crafte coruen watz wyly.\nSalamon sete him s[eue]n ere & a syþe more,\nWith alle þe syence þat hym sende þe souerayn Lorde,\nFor to compas & kest to haf hem clene wrot.\nFor þer wer bassynes ful bryt of brende golde clere,\nEnaumaylde with azer, & eweres of sute,\nCouered cowpes foul clene, as casteles arayed,\nEnbaned vnder batelment with bantelles quoynt,\n& fyled out of fygures of ferlyle schappes.\nÞe coperounes of þe canacles þat on þe cuppe reres\nWer fetysely formed out in fylyoles longe;\nPinacles pyt þer apert þat profert bitwene,\n& al bolled abof with braunches & leues,\nPyes & papejayes purtrayed withinne,\nFor alle þe blomes of þe boes wer blyknande perles,\n& alle þe fruyt in þo formes of flaumbeande gemmes,\nAnde safyres, & sardiners, & semely topace,\nAlabaundarynes, & amaraunz, & amaffised stones,\nCasydoynes, & crysolytes, & clere rubies,\nPenitotes, & pynkardines, ay perles bitwene;\nSo trayled & tryfled atrauerce wer alle,\nBi vche bekyrande þe bolde, þe brurdes al vmbe;\nÞe gobelotes of golde grauen aboute,\n& fyoles fretted with flores & fleez of golde;\nVpon þat avter watz al aliche dresset.\nÞe candelstik bi a cost watz cayred þider sone,\nVpon þe pyleres apyked, þat praysed hit mony,\nVpon hit basez of brasse þat ber vp þe werkes,\nÞe boes bryt þerabof, brayden of golde,\nBraunches bredande þeron, & bryddes þer seten\nOf mony kyndes, of fele kyn hues,\nAs þay with wynge vpon wynde hade waged her fyþeres.\nInmong þe leues of þe lampes wer grayþed,\n& oþer louflych lyt þat lemed ful fayre,\nAs mony morteres of wax merkked withoute\nWith mony a borlych best al of brende golde.\nHit watz not wonte in þat wone to wast no serges,\nBot in temple of þe trauþe trwly to stonde\nBifore þe sancta sanctorum, soþefast Drytyn\nExpouned His speche spiritually to special prophetes.\nLeue þou wel þat þe Lorde þat þe lyfte emes\nÞat His jueles so gent wyth jaueles wer fouled,\nÞat presyous in His presens wer proued sumwhyle.\nÞurþe somones of Himselfe þat syttes so hye;\nNow a boster on benche bibbes þerof\nTyl he be dronkken as þe deuel, & dotes þer he syttes.\nSo þe Worcher of þis worlde wlates þerwyth\nÞat in þe poynt of her play He poruayes a mynde;\nHe wayned hem a warnyng þat wonder hem þot.\nNov is alle þis guere geten glotounes to serue,\nStad in a ryche stal, & stared ful bryt[e];\nBaltazar in a brayd: ‘Bede vus þerof!\nWee wyn in þis won! Wassayl!’ he cryes.\nSwyfte swaynes ful swyþe swepen þertylle,\nKyppe kowpes in honde kyngez to serue;\nIn bryt bollez ful bayn birlen þise oþer,\n& vche mon for his mayster machches alone.\nÞer watz rynging, on ryt, of ryche metalles,\nQuen renkkes in þat ryche rok rennen hit to cache;\nClatering of couaclez þat kesten þo burdes\nÞen þe dotel on dece drank þat he myt;\n& þenne arn dressed dukez & prynces,\nConcubines & knytes, bi cause of þat merthe;\nAs vchon hade hym inhelde he haled of þe cuppe.\nSo long likked þise lordes þise lykores swete,\n& gloryed on her falce goddes, & her grace calles,\nÞat were of stokkes & stones, stille euermore,\nNeuer steuen hem astel, so stoken [is] hor tonge.\nAlle þe goude golden goddes þe gaulez et neuenen,\nBelfagor & Belyal, & Belssabub als,\nHeyred hem as hyly as heuen wer þayres,\nBot Hym þat alle goudes giues, þat God þay foreten.\nFor þer a ferly bifel þat fele folk seen;\nFryst knew hit þe kyng & alle þe cort after:\nIn þe palays pryncipale, vpon þe playn wowe,\nIn contrary of þe candelstik, þat clerest hit schyned,\nÞer apered a paume, with poyntel in fyngres,\nÞat watz grysly & gret, & grymly he wrytes;\nNon oþer forme bot a fust faylande þe wryste\nPared on þe parget, purtrayed lettres.\nWhen þat bolde Baltazar blusched to þat neue,\nÞat al falewed his face & fayled þe chere;\nÞe stronge strok of þe stonde strayned his joyntes,\nHis cnes cachches toclose, & cluchches his hommes,\n& he with plattyng his paumes displayes his ler[e]s,\n& romyes as a rad ryth þat rorez for drede,\nAy biholdand þe honde til hit hade al grauen\n& rasped on þe rowoe runisch sauez.\nWhen hit þe scrypture hade scraped wyth a strof penne,\nAs a coltour in clay cerues þo fores,\nÞenne hit vanist verayly & voyded of syt,\nBt þe lettres bileued ful large vpon plaster.\nSone so þe kynge for his care carping myt wynne,\nHe bede his burnes boto þat were bok-lered,\nTo wayte þe wryt þat hit wolde, & wyter hym to say,\n‘For al hit frayes my flesche, þe fyngres so grymme.’\nScoleres skelten þeratte þe skyl for to fynde,\nBot þer watz neuer on so wyse couþe on worde rede,\nNe what ledisch lore ne langage nauþer,\nWhat tyþyng ne tale tokened þo drates.\n& ede þe cete to seche segges þurout\nÞat wer wyse of wychecrafte, & warlaes oþer\nÞat con dele wyth demerlayk & deuine lettres.\n‘Calle hem alle to my cort, þo Calde clerkkes,\nVnfolde hem alle þis ferly þat is bifallen here,\n& calle wyth a hie cry: “He þat þe kyng wysses,\n& make þe mater to malt my mynde wythinne,\n& a coler of cler golde clos vmbe his þrote;\nHe schal be prymate & prynce of pure clergye,\n& of my þreuenest lordez þe þrydde he schal,\n& of my reme þe rychest to ryde wyth myseluen,\nOuttaken bare two, & þenne he þe þrydde.”‘\nÞis cry watz vpcaste, & þer comen mony\nAs þe sage sathrapas þat sorsory couþe,\nWychez & walkyries wonnen to þat sale,\nDeuinores of demorlaykes þat dremes cowþe rede,\nSorsers & exorsismus & fele such clerkes;\n& alle þat loked on þat letter as lewed þay were\nAs þay had loked in þe leþer of my lyft bote.\nÞenne cryes þe kyng & kerues his wedes.\nWhat! he corsed his clerkes & calde hem chorles;\nTo henge þe harlotes he heed ful ofte:\nSo watz þe wye wytles he wed wel ner.\nHo herde hym chyde to þe chambre þat watz þe chef quene.\nWhen ho watz wytered bi wyes what watz þe cause,\nSuche a chaungande chaunce in þe chef halle,\nÞe lady, to lauce þat los þat þe lorde hade,\nGlydes doun by þe grece & gos to þe kyng.\nHo kneles on þe colde erþe & carpes to hymseluen\nWordes of worchyp wyth a wys speche.\n‘Kene kyng,’ quoþ þe quene, ‘kayser of vrþe,\nEuer laste þy lyf in lenþe of dayes!\nWhy hatz þou rended þy robe for redles hereinne,\nÞaþose ledes ben lewed lettres to rede,\n& hatz a haþel in þy holde, as I haf herde ofte,\nÞat hatz þe gostes of God þat gyes alle soþes?\nHis sawle is ful of syence, saes to schawe,\nTo open vch a hide þyng of aunteres vncowþe.\nÞat is he þat ful ofte hatz heuened þy fader\nOf mony anger ful hote with his holy speche.\nWhen Nabugo_de_nozar watz nyed in stoundes,\nHe devysed his dremes to þe dere trawþe;\nHe keuered hym with his counsayl of caytyf wyrdes;\nAlle þat he spured hym, in space he expowned clene,\nÞurþe sped of þe spyryt, þat sprad hym withinne,\nOf þe godelest goddez þat gaynes aywhere.\nFor his depe diuinite & his dere sawes,\nÞy bolde fader Baltazar bede by his name,\nÞat now is demed Danyel, of derne coninges,\nÞat cat watz in þe captyuide in cuntre of Jues;\nNabuzardan hym nome, & now is he here,\nA prophete of þat prouince & pryce of þe worlde.\nSende into þe cete to seche hym bylyue,\n& wynne hym with þe worchyp to wayne þe bote;\n& þaþe mater be merk þat merked is ender,\nHe schal declar hit also as hit on clay stande.’\nÞat gode counseyl at þe quene watz cached as swyþe;\nÞe burne byfore Baltazar watz brot in a whyle.\nWhen he com bifore þe kyng & clanly had halsed,\nBaltazar vmbebrayde hym, & ‘Leue sir,’ he sayde,\n‘Hit is tolde me bi tulkes þat þou trwe were\nProfete of þat prouynce þat prayed my fader,\nAnde þat þou hatz in þy hert holy connyng,\nOf sapyence þi sawle ful, soþes to schawe;\nGoddes gost is þe geuen þat gyes alle þynges,\n& þou vnhyles vch hidde þat Heuen-Kyng myntes.\n& here is a ferly byfallen, & I fayn wolde\nWyt þe wytte of þe wryt þat on þe wowe clyues,\nFor alle Calde clerkes han cowwardely fayled.\nIf þou with quayntyse con quere hit, I quyte þe þy mede:\nFor if þou redes hit by ryt & hit to resoun brynges,\nFyrst telle me þe tyxte of þe tede lettres,\n& syþen þe mater of þe mode mene me þerafter,\n& I schal halde þe þe hest þat I þe hyt haue,\nApyke þe in porpre cloþe, palle alþer-fynest,\n& þe bye of bryt golde abowte þyn nekke,\n& þe þryd þryuenest þat þrynges me after,\nÞou schal be baroun vpon benche, bede I þe no lasse.’\nDerfly þenne Danyel deles þyse wordes:\n‘Ryche kyng of þis rengne, rede þe oure Lorde!\nHit is surely soth þe Souerayn of heuen\nFylsened euer þy fader & vpon folde cheryched,\nGart hym grattest to be of gouernores alle,\n& alle þe worlde in his wylle welde as hym lykes.\nWhoso wolde wel do, wel hym bityde,\n& quos deth so he dezyre, he dreped als fast;\nWhoso hym lyked to lyft, on lofte watz he sone,\n& quoso hym lyked to lay watz loed bylyue.\nSo watz noted þe note of Nabugo_de_nozar,\nStyfly stabled þe rengne bi þe stronge Drytyn,\nFor of þe Hyest he hade a hope in his hert,\nÞat vche pouer past out of þat Prynce euen.\n& whyle þat watz clet clos in his hert\nÞere watz no mon vpon molde of myt as hymseluen;\nTil hit bitide on a tyme towched hym pryde\nFor his lordeschyp so large & his lyf ryche;\nHe hade so huge an insyt to his aune dedes\nÞat þe power of þe hye Prynce he purely foretes.\nÞenne blynnes he not of blasfemy on to blame þe Drytyn;\nHis myt mete to Goddes he made with his wordes:\n“I am god of þe grounde, to gye as me lykes.\nAs He þat hye is in heuen, His aungeles þat weldes.\nIf He hatz formed þe folde & folk þervpone,\nI haf bigged Babiloyne, buralþer-rychest,\nStabled þerinne vche a ston in strenkþe of myn armes;\nMot neuer myt bot myn make such anoþer.”\nWatz not þis ilke worde wonnen of his mowþe one\nEr þenne þe Souerayn sae souned in his eres:\n“Now Nabugo_de_nozar innoe hatz spoken,\nNow is alle þy pryncipalte past at ones,\n& þou, remued fro monnes sunes, on mor most abide\n& in wasturne walk & wyth þe wylde dowelle,\nAs best, byte on þe bent of braken & erbes,\nWith wroþe wolfes to won & wyth wylde asses.”\nInmydde þe poynt of his pryde departed he þere\nFro þe soly of his solempnete; his solace he leues,\n& carfully is outkast to contre vnknawen,\nFer into a fyr fryth þere frekes neuer comen.\nHis hert heldet vnhole; he hoped non oþer\nBot a best þat he be, a bol oþer an oxe.\nÞus he countes hym a kow þat watz a kyng ryche,\nQuyle seuen syþez were ouerseyed, someres I trawe.\nBy þat mony þik thye þryt vmbe his lyre,\nÞat alle watz dubbed & dyt in þe dew of heuen;\nFaxe, fyltered & felt, flosed hym vmbe,\nÞat schad fro his schulderes to his schyre wykes,\n& twenty-folde twynande hit to his tos rat,\nÞer mony clyuy as clyde hit clyt togeder.\nHis berde ibrad alle his brest to þe bare vrþe,\nHis browes bresed as breres aboute his brode chekes;\nHole were his yen & vnder campe hores,\n& al watz gray as þe glede, with ful grymme clawres\nÞat were croked & kene as þe kyte paune;\nErne-hwed he watz & al ouerbrawden,\nTil he wyst ful wel who wrot alle mytes,\n& cowþe vche kyndam tokerue & keuer when Hym lyked.\nÞenne He wayned hym his wyt, þat hade wo soffered,\nÞat he com to knawlach & kenned hymseluen;\nÞenne he loued þat Lorde & leued in trawþe\nHit watz non oþer þen He þat hade al in honde.\nÞenne sone watz he sende agayn, his sete restored;\nHis barounes boed hym to, blyþe of his come,\nHaerly in his aune hwe his heued watz couered,\n& so eply watz arked & olden his state.\nBot þou, Baltazar, his barne & his bolde ayre,\nSeþese syngnes with syt & set hem at lyttel,\nBot ay hatz hofen þy hert agaynes þe hye Dryt[y]n,\nWith bobaunce & with blasfamye bost at Hym kest,\n& now His vessayles avyled in vanyte vnclene,\nÞat in His hows Hym to honour were heuened of fyrst;\nBifore þe barounz hatz hom brot, & byrled þerinne\nWale wyne to þy wenches in waryed stoundes;\nBifore þy borde hatz þou brot beuerage in þede,\nÞat blyþely were fyrst blest with bischopes hondes,\nLouande þeron lese goddez þat lyf haden neuer,\nMade of stokkes & stonez þat neuer styry mot.\n& for þat froþande fylþe, þe Fader of heuen\nHatz sende into þis sale þise sytes vncowþe,\nÞe fyste with þe fyngeres þat flayed þi hert,\nÞat rasped renyschly þe woe with þe ropenne.\nÞise ar þe wordes here wryten, withoute werk more,\nBy vch fygure, as I fynde, as oure Fader lykes:\nMane, Techal, Phares: merked in þrynne,\nÞat þretes þe of þyn vnþryfte vpon þre wyse.\nNow expowne þe þis speche spedly I þenk:\nManemenes als much as “Maynful Gode\nHatz counted þy kyndam bi a clene noumbre,\n& fulfylled hit in fayth to þe fyrre ende”.\nTo teche þe of Techal, þat terme þus menes:\n“þy wale rengne is walt in wetes to heng,\n& is funde ful fewe of hit fayth-dedes.”\n& Pharesfoles for þose fawtes, to frayst þe trawþe;\nIn Phares fyndeI forsoþe þise felle saes:\n“Departed is þy pryncipalte, depryued þou worpes,\nÞy rengne rafte is þe fro, & rat is þe Perses;\nÞe Medes schal be maysteres here, & þou of menske schowued.”‘\nÞe kyng comaunded anon to cleþe þat wyse\nIn frokkes of fyn cloþ, as forward hit asked;\n& a coler of cler golde kest vmbe his swyre.\nÞen watz demed a decre bi þe duk seluen:\nBolde Baltazar bed þat hym bowe schulde\nÞe comynes al of Calde þat to þe kyng longed,\nAs to þe prynce pryuyest preued þe þrydde,\nHeest of alle oþer saf onelych tweyne,\nTo boafter Baltazar in bore & in felde.\nÞys watz cryed & knawen in cort als fast,\n& alle þe folk þerof fayn þat foled hym tylle.\nBot howso Danyel watz dyt, þat day ouerede;\nNyt need ryt now with nyes fol mony,\nFor daed neuer anoþer day, þat ilk derk after,\nEr dalt were þat ilk dome þat Danyel deuysed.\nÞe solace of þe solempnete in þat sale dured\nOf þat farand fest, tyl fayled þe sunne;\nÞenne blykned þe ble of þe bryt skwes,\nMourkenes þe mery weder, & þe myst dryues\nÞorþe lyst of þe lyfte, bi þe lomedoes.\nVche haþel to his home hyes ful fast,\nSeten at her soper & songen þerafter;\nÞen foundez vch a felaschyp fyrre at forþ nates.\nBaltazar to his bedd with blysse watz caryed;\nReche þe rest as hym lyst: he ros neuer þerafter.\nÞat longe hade layted þat lede his londes to strye,\nNow ar þay sodenly assembled at þe self tyme.\nOf hem wyst no wye þat in þat won dowelled.\nÞe prowde prynce of Perce, & Porros of Ynde,\nWith mony a legioun ful large, with ledes of armes,\nÞat now hatz spyed a space to spoyle Caldeez.\nÞay þrongen þeder in þe þester on þrawen hepes,\nAsscaped ouer þe skyre watteres & scaþed þe walles,\nLyfte laddres ful longe & vpon lofte wonen,\nStelen stylly þe toun er any steuen rysed.\nWithinne an oure of þe niyt an entre þay hade,\net afrayed þay no freke. Fyrre þay passen,\n& to þe palays pryncipal þay aproched ful stylle,\nÞenne ran þay in on a res on rowtes ful grete;\nBlastes out of bryt brasse brestes so hye,\nAscry scarred on þe scue, þat scomfyted mony.\nSegges slepande were slayne er þay slyppe myt;\nVche hous heyred watz withinne a hondewhyle.\nBaltazar in his bed watz beten to deþe,\nÞat boþe his blod & his brayn blende on þe cloþes;\nThe kyng in his cortyn watz kat bi þe heles,\nFeryed out bi þe fete & fowle dispysed.\nÞat watz so doty þat day & drank of þe vessayl\nNow is a dogge also dere þat in a dych lygges.\nFor þe mayster of þyse Medes on þe morne ryses,\nDere Daryous þat day dyt vpon trone,\nÞat cete seses ful sounde, & satlyng makes\nWyth alle þe barounz þeraboute, þat bowed hym after.\n& þus watz þat londe lost for þe lordes synne,\n& þe fylþe of þe freke þat defowled hade\nÞe ornementes of Goddez hous þat holy were maked.\nHe watz corsed for his vnclannes, & cached þerinne,\nDone doun of his dyngnete for dedez vnfayre,\n& of þyse worldes worchyp wrast out for euer,\n& et of lykynges on lofte letted, I trowe:\nTo loke on oure lofly Lorde late bitydes.\nÞus vpon þrynne wyses I haf yow þro schewed\nÞat vnclannes tocleues in corage dere\nOf þat wynnelych Lorde þat wonyes in heuen,\nEntyses Hym to be tene, telled vp His wrake;\nAnde clannes is His comfort, & coyntyse He louyes,\n& þose þat seme arn & swete schyn se His face.\nÞat we gon gay in oure gere þat grace He vus sende,\nÞat we may serue in His syt, þer solace neuer blynnez.