Chapter X: SHAKESPEARE AS A COMIC DRAMATIST. Edward Dowden (7)

_Launder._ Why! have ye alway kyst her behynde?
In fayth, good inough, yf yt be your mynde. 870
And yf your appetyte serve you so to do,
Byr lady, I wolde ye had kyst myne ars to!

_Mery-reporte._ To whom dost thou speake, foule hore? canst thou tell?

_Launder._ Nay, by my trouth! I, syr, not very well!
But by conjecture this ges[191] I have, 875
That I do speke to an olde baudy knave.
I saw you dally with your symper de cokket[192]
I rede you beware she pyck not your pokket.
Such ydyll huswyfes do now and than
Thynke all well wonne that they pyck from a man. 880
Yet such of some men shall have more favour,
Then we, that for them dayly toyle and labour.
But I trust the god wyll be so indyfferent
That she shall fayle some parte of her entent.

_Mery-reporte._ No dout he wyll deale so gracyously 885
That all folke shall be served indyfferently.
How be yt, I tell the trewth, my offyce is suche D i _b_
That I muste reporte eche sewt, lyttell or muche.
Wherfore, wyth the god syns thou canst not speke,
Trust me wyth thy sewt, I wyll not fayle yt to breke.[193] 890

_Launder._ Then leave not to muche to yonder gyglet.[194]
For her desyre contrary to myne is set.
I herde by her tale she wolde banyshe the sonne,
And then were we pore launders all undonne.
Excepte the sonne shyne that our clothes may dry, 895
We can do ryght nought in our laundrye.
An other maner losse, yf we sholde mys,
Then of suche nycebyceters[195] as she is.

_Gentylwoman._ I thynke yt better that thou envy me,
Then I sholde stande at rewarde[196] of thy pytte. 900
It is the guyse of such grose quenes as thou art
With such as I am evermore to thwart.
By cause that no beauty ye can obtayne
Therfore ye have us that be fayre in dysdayne.

_Launder._ When I was as yonge as thou art now, 905
I was wythin lyttel as fayre as thou,
And so myght have kept me, yf I hadde wolde,
And as derely my youth I myght have solde
As the tryckest and fayrest of you all.
But I feared parels[197] that after myght fall, 910
Wherfore some busynes I dyd me provyde,
Lest vyce myght enter on every syde,
Whyche hath fre entre where ydelnesse doth reyne.
It is not thy beauty that I dysdeyne,
But thyne ydyll lyfe that thou hast rehersed, 915
Whych any good womans hert wolde have perced.
For I perceyve in daunsynge and syngynge,
In eatyng and drynkynge and thyne apparellynge,
Is all the joye, wherin thy herte is set.
But nought of all this doth thyne owne labour get; 920
For, haddest thou nothyng but of thyne owne travayle,
Thou myghtest go as naked as my nayle.
Me thynke thou shuldest abhorre suche ydylnes
And passe thy tyme in some honest besynes;
Better to lese some parte of thy beaute, 925
Then so ofte to jeoberd all thyne honeste.
But I thynke, rather then thou woldest so do, D ii
Thou haddest lever have us lyve ydylly to.
And so, no doute, we shulde, yf thou myghtest have
The clere sone banysht, as thou dost crave: 930
Then were we launders marde and unto the
Thyne owne request were smale commodyte.
For of these twayne I thynke yt farre better
Thy face were sone-burned, and thy clothis the swetter,[198]
Then that the sonne from shynynge sholde be smytten, 935
To kepe thy face fayre and thy smocke beshytten.
Syr, howe lycke ye my reason in her case?

_Mery-reporte._ Such a raylynge hore, by the holy mas,
I never herde, in all my lyfe, tyll now.
In dede I love ryght well the ton of you, 940
But, or I wolde kepe you both, by goddes mother,
The devyll shall have the tone to fet[199] the tother.

_Launder._ Promyse me to speke that the sone may shyne bryght,
And I wyll be gone quyckly for all nyght.

_Mery-reporte._ Get you both hens, I pray you hartely; 945
Your sewtes I perceyve and wyll reporte them trewly
Unto Jupyter, at the next leysure,
And in the same desyre, to know his pleasure;
Whyche knowledge hadde, even as he doth show yt,
Feare ye not, tyme enough, ye shall know it. 950

_Gentylwoman._ Syr, yf ye medyll, remember me fyrste.

_Launder._ Then in this medlynge my parte shal be the wurst.

_Mery-reporte._ Now, I beseche our lorde, the devyll the[200] burst.
Who medlyth wyth many I hold hym accurst,
Thou hore, can I medyl wyth you both at ones. 955

_Here the_ GENTYLWOMAN _goth forth_.

_Launder._ By the mas, knave, I wold I had both thy stones
In my purs, yf thou medyl not indyfferently,
That both our maters in yssew may be lyckly.

_Mery-reporte._ Many wordes, lyttell mater, and to no purpose,
Suche is the effect that thou dost dysclose, 960
The more ye byb[201] the more ye babyll,
The more ye babyll the more ye fabyll,
The more ye fabyll the more unstabyll,
The more unstabyll the more unabyll,
In any maner thynge to do any good. 965
No hurt though ye were hanged, by the holy rood! D ii _b_

_Launder._ The les your sylence, the lesse your credence,
The les your credens the les your honeste,
The les your honeste the les your assystens,
The les your assystens the les abylyte 970
In you to do ought. Wherfore, so god me save,
No hurte in hangynge such a raylynge knave.

_Mery-reporte._ What monster is this? I never harde none suche.
For loke how myche more I have made her to myche,
And so farre, at lest, she hath made me to lyttell. 975
Wher be ye Launder? I thynke in some spytell.[202]
Ye shall washe me no gere, for feare of fretynge[203]
I love no launders that shrynke my gere in wettynge,
I praye the go hens, and let me be in rest.
I wyll do thyne erand as I thynke best. 980

_Launder._ Now wolde I take my leve, yf I wyste how.
The lenger I lyve the more knave you.

_Mery-reporte._ The lenger thou lyvest the pyte the gretter,
The soner thou be ryd the tydynges the better!
Is not this a swete offyce that I have, 985
When every drab shall prove me a knave?
Every man knoweth not what goddes servyce is,
Nor I my selfe knewe yt not before this.
I thynke goddes servauntes may lyve holyly,
But the devyls servauntes lyve more meryly. 990
I know not what god geveth in standynge fees,
But the devyls servaunts have casweltees[204]
A hundred tymes mo then goddes servauntes have.
For, though ye be never so starke a knave,
If ye lacke money the devyll wyll do no wurse 995
But brynge you strayght to a-nother mans purse.
Then wyll the devyll promote you here in this world,
As unto suche ryche yt doth moste accord.
Fyrste _pater noster qui es in celis_,
And then ye shall sens[205] the shryfe wyth your helys. 1000
The greatest frende ye have in felde or towne,
Standynge a-typ-to, shall not reche your crowne.

_The_ BOY _cometh in, the lest that can play_.

_Boy._ This same is even he, by al lycklyhod.
Syr, I pray you, be not you master god?

_Mery-reporte._ No, in good fayth, sonne. But I may say to the
I am suche a man that god may not mysse me. D iii 1006
Wherfore with the god yf thou wouldest have ought done
Tell me thy mynde, and I shall shew yt sone.

_Boy._ Forsothe, syr, my mynde is thys, at few wordes,
All my pleasure is in catchynge of byrdes, 1010
And makynge of snow-ballys and throwyng the same;
For the whyche purpose to have set in frame,[206]
Wyth my godfather god I wolde fayne have spoken,
Desyrynge hym to have sent me by some token
Where I myghte have had great frost for my pytfallys, 1015
And plente of snow to make my snow-ballys.
This onys[207] had, boyes lyvis be such as no man leddys.
O, to se my snow ballys lyght on my felowes heddys,
And to here the byrdes how they flycker theyr wynges
In the pytfale! I say yt passeth all thynges. 1020
Syr, yf ye be goddes servaunt, or his kynsman,
I pray you helpe me in this yf ye can.

_Mery-reporte._ Alas, pore boy, who sent the hether?

_Boy._ A hundred boys that stode to-gether,
Where they herde one say in a cry 1025
That my godfather, god almighty,
Was come from heven, by his owne accorde,
This nyght to suppe here wyth my lorde,[208]
And farther he sayde, come whos[o][209] wull,
They shall sure have theyr bellyes full 1030
Of all wethers who lyste to crave,
Eche sorte suche wether as they lyste to have.
And when my felowes thought this wolde be had,
And saw me so prety a pratelynge lad,
Uppon agrement, wyth a great noys, 1035
"Sende lyttell Dycke," cryed al the boys.
By whose assent I am purveyd[210]
To sew for the wether afore seyd.
Wherin I pray you to be good, as thus,
To helpe that god may geve yt us. 1040

_Mery-reporte._ Gyve boyes wether, quoth a! nonny,[211] nonny!

_Boy._ Yf god of his wether wyll gyve nonny,
I pray you, wyll he sell ony?
Or lend us a bushell of snow, or twayne,
And poynt us a day to pay hym agayne? 1045

_Mery-reporte._ I can not tell, for, by thys light, D iii _b_
I chept[212] not, nor borowed, none of hym this night.
But by suche shyfte as I wyll make
Thou shalte se soone what waye he wyll take.

_Boy._ Syr, I thanke you. Then I may departe. 1050

_The_ BOY _goth forth_.

_Mery-reporte._ Ye, fare well, good sonne, wyth all my harte,
Now suche an other sorte[213] as here hath bene
In all the dayes of my lyfe I have not sene.
No sewters now but women, knavys, and boys,
And all theyr sewtys are in fansyes and toys. 1055
Yf that there come no wyser after thys cry
I wyll to the god and make an ende quyckely.
Oyes,[214] yf that any knave here
Be wyllynge to appere,
For wether fowle or clere, 1060
Come in before thys flocke
And be he hole or syckly,
Come, shew hys mynde quyckly,
And yf hys tale be not lyckly[215]
Ye shall lycke my tayle in the nocke. 1065
All thys tyme I perceyve is spent in wast,
To wayte for mo sewters I se none make hast.
Wherfore I wyll shew the god all thys procys
And be delyvered of my symple[216] offys.
Now, lorde, accordynge to your commaundement, 1070
Attendynge sewters I have ben dylygent,
And, at begynnyng as your wyll was I sholde,
I come now at ende to shewe what eche man wolde.
The fyrst sewter before your selfe dyd appere,
A gentylman desyrynge wether clere, 1075
Clowdy nor mysty, nor no wynde to blowe,
For hurte in hys huntynge; and then, as ye know,
The marchaunt sewde, for all of that kynde,
For wether clere and mesurable wynde
As they maye best bere theyr saylys to make spede. 1080
And streyght after thys there came to me, in dede,
An other man who namyd hym-selfe a ranger,
And sayd all of hys crafte be farre brought in daunger,
For lacke of lyvynge, whyche chefely ys wynde-fall.
But he playnely sayth there bloweth no wynde at al, D iv 1085
Wherfore he desyreth, for encrease of theyr fleesys,[217]
Extreme rage of wynde, trees to tere in peces.
Then came a water-myller and he cryed out
For water and sayde the wynde was so stout
The rayne could not fale, wherfore he made request 1090
For plenty of rayne, to set the wynde at rest.
And then, syr, there came a wynde myller in,
Who sayde for the rayne he could no wynde wyn,
The water he wysht to be banysht all,
Besechynge your grace of wynde contynuall. 1095
Then came there an other that wolde banysh all this
A goodly dame, an ydyll thynge iwys.
Wynde, rayne, nor froste, nor sonshyne, wold she have,
But fayre close wether, her beautye to save.
Then came there a-nother that lyveth by laundry, 1100
Who muste have wether hote & clere here clothys to dry.
Then came there a boy for froste and snow contynuall,
Snow to make snow ballys and frost for his pytfale,
For whyche, god wote, he seweth full gredely.
Your fyrst man wold have wether clere and not wyndy; 1105
The seconde the same, save cooles[218] to blow meanly;
The thyrd desyred stormes and wynde moste extremely;
The fourth all in water and wolde have no wynde;
The fyft no water, but al wynde to grynde;
The syxt wold have none of all these, nor no bright son; 1110
The seventh extremely the hote son wold have wonne;
The eyght, and the last, for frost & snow he prayd.
Byr lady, we shall take shame, I am a-frayd!
Who marketh in what maner this sort is led
May thynke yt impossyble all to be sped. 1115
This nomber is smale, there lacketh twayne of ten,
And yet, by the masse, amonge ten thousand men
No one thynge could stande more wyde from the tother;
Not one of theyr sewtes agreeth wyth an other.
I promyse you, here is a shrewed pece of warke. 1120
This gere wyll trye wether ye be a clarke.
Yf ye trust to me, yt is a great foly;
For yt passeth my braynes, by goddes body!

_Jupyter._ Son, thou haste ben dylygent and done so well,
That thy labour is ryght myche thanke-worthy. D iv _b_ 1125
But be thou suer we nede no whyt thy counsell,
For in ourselfe we have foresene remedy,
Whyche thou shalt se. But, fyrste, departe hence quyckly
To the gentylman and all other sewters here
And commaunde them all before us to appere. 1130

_Mery-reporte._ That shall be no longer in doynge
Then I am in commynge and goynge.

MERY-REPORTE _goth out_.

_Jupyter._ Suche debate as from above ye have herde,
Suche debate beneth amonge your selfes ye se;
As longe as heddes from temperaunce be deferd, 1135
So longe the bodyes in dystemperaunce be,
This perceyve ye all, but none can helpe save we.
But as we there have made peace concordantly,
So woll we here now gyve you remedy.

MERY-REPORTE _and al the sewters entreth_.

_Mery-reporte._ If I hadde caught them 1140
Or ever I raught[219] them,
I wolde have taught them
To be nere me;
Full dere have I bought them,
Lorde, so I sought them, 1145
Yet have I brought them,
Suche as they be.

_Gentylman._ Pleaseth yt your majeste, lorde, so yt is,
We, as your subjectes and humble sewters all,
Accordynge as we here your pleasure is, 1150
Are presyd[220] to your presens, beynge principall
Hed and governour of all in every place,
Who joyeth not in your syght, no joy can have.
Wherfore we all commyt us to your grace
As lorde of lordes us to peryshe or save. 1155

_Jupyter._ As longe as dyscrecyon so well doth you gyde
Obedyently to use your dewte,
Dout ye not we shall your savete provyde,
Your grevys we have harde, wherfore we sent for ye
To receyve answere, eche man in his degre, 1160
And fyrst to content most reason yt is,
The fyrste man that sewde, wherfore marke ye this,

Oft shall ye have the wether clere and styll
To hunt in for recompens of your payne. D v
Also you marchauntes shall have myche your wyll. 1165
For oft-tymes, when no wynde on lande doth remayne,
Yet on the see pleasaunt cooles you shall obtayne.
And syns your huntynge maye rest in the nyght,
Oft shall the wynde then ryse, and before daylyght

It shall ratyll downe the wood, in suche case 1170
That all ye rangers the better lyve may;
And ye water-myllers shall obtayne this grace
Many tymes the rayne to fall in the valey,
When at the selfe tymes on hyllys we shall purvey
Fayre wether for your wyndmilles, with such coolys of wynde
As in one instant both kyndes of mylles may grynde. 1176

And for ye fayre women, that close wether wold have,
We shall provyde that ye may suffycyently
Have tyme to walke in, and your beauty save;
And yet shall ye have, that lyveth by laundry, 1180
The hote sonne oft ynough your clothes to dry.
Also ye, praty chylde, shall have both frost and snow,
Now marke this conclusyon, we charge you arow.[221]

Myche better have we now devysed for ye all
Then ye all can perceve, or coude desyre. 1185
Eche of you sewd to have contynuall
Suche wether as his crafte onely doth requyre,
All wethers in all places yf men all tymes myght hyer,
Who could lyve by other? what is this neglygens
Us to atempt in suche inconvenyens. 1190

Now, on the tother syde, yf we had graunted
The full of some one sewt and no mo,
And from all the rest the wether had forbyd,
Yet who so hadde obtayned had wonne his owne wo.
There is no one craft can preserve man so, 1195
But by other craftes, of necessyte,
He muste have myche parte of his commodyte.

All to serve at ones and one destroy a nother, D v _b_
Or ellys to serve one and destroy all the rest,
Nother wyll we do the tone nor the tother 1200
But serve as many, or as few, as we thynke best;
And where, or what tyme, to serve moste or leste,
The dyreccyon of that doutles shall stande
Perpetually in the power of our hande.

Wherfore we wyll the hole worlde to attende 1205
Eche sorte on suche wether as for them doth fall,
Now one, now other, as lyketh us to sende.
Who that hath yt, ply[222] it, and suer we shall
So gyde the wether in course to you all,
That eche wyth other ye shall hole[223] remayne 1210
In pleasure and plentyfull welth, certayne.

_Gentylman._ Blessed was the tyme wherin we were borne,
Fyrst for the blysfull chaunce of your godly presens.
Next for our sewt was there never man beforne
That ever harde so excellent a sentens 1215
As your grace hath gevyn to us all arow,
Wherin your hyghnes hath so bountyfully
Dystrybuted my parte that your grace shall know,
Your selfe sooll[224] possessed of hertes of all chyvalry.

_Marchaunt._ Lyke-wyse we marchauntes shall yeld us holy,[225] 1220
Onely to laude the name of Jupyter
As god of all goddes, you to serve soolly;
For of every thynge, I se, you are norysher.

_Ranger._ No dout yt is so, for so we now fynde;
Wherin your grace us rangers so doth bynde, 1225
That we shall gyve you our hertes with one accorde,
For knowledge to know you as our onely lorde.

_Water Myller._ Well, I can no more, but "for our water
We shall geve your lordshyp our ladyes sauter."

_Wynde Myller._ Myche have ye bounde us; for, as I be saved,
We have all obteyned better then we craved. 1231

_Gentylwoman._ That is trew, wherfore your grace shal trewly
The hertes of such as I am have surely.

_Launder._ And suche as I am, who be as good as you,
His hyghness shall be suer on, I make a vow.[226] 1235

_Boy._ Godfather god, I wyll do somewhat for you agayne. D vi
By Cryste, ye maye happe to have a byrd or twayne,
And I promyse you, yf any snow come,
When I make my snow ballys ye shall have some.

_Mery-reporte._ God thanke your lordshyp. Lo, how this is brought
to pas! 1240
Syr, now shall ye have the wether even as yt was.

_Jupyter._ We nede no whyte our selfe any farther to bost,
For our dedes declare us apparauntly.
Not onely here on yerth, in every cost,
But also above in the hevynly company, 1245
Our prudens hath made peace unyversally,
Whyche thynge we sey, recordeth us as pryncypall
God and governour of heven, yerth, and all.
Now unto that heven we woll make retourne,
When we be gloryfyed most tryumphantly, 1250
Also we woll all ye that on yerth sojourne,
Syns cause gyveth cause to knowe us your lord onely,
And nowe here to synge moste joyfully,
Rejoycynge in us, and in meane tyme we shall
Ascende into our trone celestyall. 1255

FINIS.

Printed by W. Rastell.

1533.

_Cum privilegio._

FOOTNOTES:

[98] _I.e._ of the audience as representing mankind.

[99] For use as a plural cf. l. 347 'besecheth,' 844 'ye doth.'

[100] The dispensers respectively of frost, sunshine, wind, and rain.

[101] placed on record.

[102] powers, not 'pores.'

[103] that which they have experienced.

[104] conclusion.

[105] _I.e._ some one in the audience.

[106] Said to one of the attendants.

[107] The phrase in alphabet-learning for a letter sounded by itself; cf. _Wily Beguiled_: "A _per se_ A" (Hawkins' Origin of English Drama, 3: 357. Oxford: 1772).

[108] matters.

[109] frieze.

[110] sweeting, sweetheart.

[111] separated.

[112] impartial.

[113] out of good fellowship.

[114] the end.

[115] equivalent to stanza.

[116] clownish rascals.

[117] Louvain.

[118] In Herts.

[119] Perhaps one of the numerous Barfords.

[120] In Notts.

[121] In Essex.

[122] Tottenham.

[123] In Suffolk.

[124] Near Woolwich.

[125] Witham, in Essex.

[126] Bristol.

[127] Possibly Gravelye near Baldock.

[128] There is a parish of Buttsbury in Essex: 'ynge Gyngiang Jayberd' defies explanation.

[129] Have given notice to the petitioners to appear. The 'cry' is supposed to have been made outside.

[130] mastership.

[131] the audience.

[132] journeying.

[133] rouse the game.

[134] call off after a kill.

[135] avail.

[136] clyster, purge.

[137] parson.

[138] As the play was written before 1533, the clergy were still celibates, and this is only Mery-reporte's 'humour.'

[139] immediately.

[140] Explained by 'thynges wherof there is plente.'

[141] available.

[142] heard more, or others.

[143] in the same rightness.

[144] Scio (Chios).

[145] Purlieus are technically the woods adjacent to a royal forest; a chase is an unenclosed part.

[146] What on earth would it matter?

[147] dispensed with, missed.

[148] To give two pounds of wheat for grinding sixty-four.

[149] wheel.

[150] feeder of the mill.

[151] axletree.

[152] Jupiter's proclamation.

[153] making rejoice.

[154] too far at variance.

[155] given less freedom.

[156] the kingdom of saints.

[157] assembly.

[158] scatter, blow about.

[159] flying apart.

[160] murrain, plague.

[161] dispensed with.

[162] roundly, completely.

[163] the psalms appointed for the Hours of the Blessed Virgin.

[164] esteem.

[165] admit.

[166] hair-breadth.

[167] float.

[168] sent.

[169] moderate cool breezes.

[170] choir.

[171] _Sic_ in all editions.

[172] of not sufficient advantage.

[173] Indistinguishable from trifles.

[174] off.

[175] The earliest reference to a dearth of corn in the reign of Henry VIII. which I can find in Holinshed is _sub anno_ 1523, when he states that the price in London was 20 _s._ a quarter, but without assigning any cause. The reference here is, I think, clearly to the great rains of the autumn of 1527 and April and May, 1528, of which Holinshed writes that they "caused great floods and did much harme namelie in corne, so that the next yeare [1528?] it failed within the realme and great dearth ensued."

[176] one.

[177] preliminary.

[178] moderate, adjust.

[179] morass.

[180] stands still.

[181] the flat fixed stone (or bed stone) over which the turning stone, or _runner_, moved.

[182] reviling.

[183] decayed.

[184] be leaky; misprinted _belyke_ by Kitson.

[185] or _jet_ (l. 835), strut.

[186] parrot.

[187] simpletons.

[188] Jesus.

[189] trim.

[190] smart.

[191] guess.

[192] Mlle. Simper de Coquette.

[193] communicate.

[194] wanton.

[195] Cf. note on _Roister Doister_, I. iv. 12. _Merygreeke_: "But with whome is he nowe so sadly roundyng yonder?" _Dougerie_: "With _Nobs nicebecetur miserere_ fonde." Explained by Flügel as a contraction of _Nescio quid dicitur_ = Mistress 'What's-her-name.' _Gen. Ed._

[196] At regard, _i.e._ as the object of.

[197] perils.

[198] sweeter.

[199] fetch.

[200] thee.

[201] In _The Play of Love_, Heywood writes of "bybbyll babbyll, clytter clatter."

[202] hospital, lazar-house.

[203] rubbing.

[204] casualties, chance perquisites.

[205] swing to and fro with your heels before the sheriff, as a censer is swung by a thurifer.

[206] made arrangements.

[207] once.

[208] Cardinal Wolsey suggests himself as the person most likely to be thus referred to, but if the reference of l. 636 is to the excessive rain of 1527-28, Wolsey's disgrace followed it rather too closely for the phrase "within this seven yere."

[209] Rastell ed., 'whose.'

[210] provided.

[211] Usually a mere exclamation, but here apparently as if from _non_, not.

[212] bargained for.

[213] assemblage.

[214] oyez, hearken.

[215] likely.

[216] foolish.

[217] plunder.

[218] Cf. l. 590, "meane cooles."

[219] reached.

[220] pressed, have hastened.

[221] in order.

[222] use.

[223] whole.

[224] solely.

[225] wholly.

[226] St. John's copy ends.

JOHAN JOHAN

=Previous Editions and the Present Text.=--An edition of "A Mery Play between Johan Johan, the Husbande, Tyb, his Wyfe and Syr Jhan, the Preest, attributed to John Heywood 1533,"[227] was printed at the Chiswick Press by C[harles] Whittingham "from an unique copy in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford," some time in the first half of the present century.[228] The anonymous editor prefaces it with the following brief "advertisement":--

"This is one of the six Plays attributed by our dramatic
biographers to John Heywood, author of _The Four P's_ (contained
in Dodsley's collection), of 'the Spider and Flie,' and of some
other poems, an account of which may be found in the Third Volume
of Warton's History of English Poetry. No copy of this Mery Play
appears to exist except that in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford,
from which this is a faithful reprint. Exclusive of its antiquity
and rarity, it is valuable as affording a specimen of the earliest
and rudest form of our Comedy (for the Poem is shorter, & the
number of the Dramatis Personæ yet fewer than those of the _Four
P's_) & of the liberty with which even the Roman Catholic authors
of that age felt themselves authorized to treat the established
priesthood."

The Ashmolean copy (now in the Bodleian Library) can no longer be reckoned unique, another copy having been discovered in the Pepys collection at Magdalene College, Cambridge. This copy has been used in correcting the Chiswick Press text, and it may be as well to mention that the following changes, besides a good many minor ones, have been made on its authority, and are not surreptitious emendations of the present editor.

l. 4, _myche_ for _muche_; l. 27, _Whan_ for _Whyn_; l. 31, _thwak_ for _twak_; l. 89, _enrage_ for _engage_; l. 94, _But_ for _Thou_; l. 121, _thou_ for _you_; l. 129, _lyk_ for _syk_; l. 132, _to go_ for _go_; l. 137, _fare_ for _face_; l. 305, _waxe_ for _ware_; l. 335, _for I_ for _I_; l. 471, _Ye_ for _le_; l. 497, _mych_ for _much_; l. 540, _beyond_ for _beand_; l. 542, _a bevy_ for _bevy_; l. 552, _beyond_ for _beyand_; l. 581, _v_ for _ix_; l. 604, _I am_ for _am I_.

In the apportionment of ll. 240-266 between the two speakers, my predecessor, like myself, though not in the same manner, has departed from Rastell's (clearly erroneous) arrangement of the speeches, but his dislike of footnotes has caused him to omit any mention of the fact. The title-page is a representation, not a _facsimile_. There is no running head-line in the original.

ALFRED W. POLLARD.

FOOTNOTES:

[227] See Critical Essay, pp. 10, 14.

[228] My own copy has beneath the initials of a former owner the date "March 22, 1833"; that in the British Museum is assigned to 1830. I have seen it stated, but I know not on what authority, that the book appeared in 1819.

[Decoration]

A mery play

Betwene Johan Johan the
husbande / Tyb his
wyfe / & syr Jhān
the preest

[Decoration]

A Mery Play,
betwene
JOHAN JOHAN, _the husbande_. TYB, _his wyfe_,
&
SYR JHAN, _the preest_

JOHAN JOHAN, _the Husbande_.

God spede you, maysters, everychone,
Wote ye not whyther my wyfe is gone?
I pray God the dyvell take her,
For all that I do I can not make her,
But she wyll go a gaddynge very myche 5
Lyke an Antony pyg[229] with an olde wyche,
Whiche ledeth her about hyther and thyther;
But, by our lady, I wote not whyther.
But, by goggis[230] blod, were she come home
Unto this my house, by our lady of Crome,[231] 10
I wolde bete her or that I drynke.
Bete her, quotha? yea, that she shall stynke!
And at every stroke lay her on the grounde,
And trayne[232] her by the here[233] about the house rounde.
I am evyn mad that I bete her not nowe, 15
But I shall rewarde her, hard[e]ly,[234] well ynowe;
There is never a wyfe betwene heven and hell
Whiche was ever beten halfe so well.
Beten, quotha? yea, but what and she therof dye?
Then I may chaunce to be hanged shortly. 20
And whan I have beten her tyll she smoke,
And gyven her many a c.[235] stroke,
Thynke ye that she wyll amende yet?
Nay, by our lady, the devyll spede whyt![236]
Therfore I wyll not bete her at all. 25
And shall I not bete her? no shall?[237]
Whan she offendeth and doth a-mys, A i _b_
And kepeth not her house, as her duetie is?
Shall I not bete her, if she do so?
Yes, by cokkis[238] blood, that shall I do; 30
I shall bete her and thwak her, I trow,
That she shall beshyte the house for very wo.
But yet I thynk what my neybour wyll say than,
He wyll say thus: "Whom chydest thou, Johan Johan?"
"Mary," will I say! "I chyde my curst wyfe, 35
The veryest drab that ever bare lyfe,
Whiche doth nothying but go and come,
And I can not make her kepe her at home."
Than I thynke he wyll say by and by,[239]
"Walke her cote,[240] Johan Johan, and bete her hardely." 40
But than unto hym myn answere shal be,
"The more I bete her the worse is she:
And wors and wors make her I shall."
He wyll say than, "bete her not at all."
"And why?" shall I say, "this wolde be wyst,[241] 45
Is she not myne to chastice as I lyst?"
But this is another poynt worst of all,
The folkis wyll mocke me whan they here me brall;[242]
But for all that, shall I let[243] therfore
To chastyce my wyfe ever the more, 50
And to make her at home for to tary?
Is not that well done? yes, by Saynt Mary,
That is a poynt[244] of an honest man
For to bete his wyfe well nowe and than.
Therfore I shall bete her, have ye no drede! 55
And I ought to bete her, tyll she be starke dede.
And why? by God, bicause it is my pleasure,
And if I shulde suffre her, I make you sure,
Nought shulde prevayle[245] me, nother staffe nor waster,[246]
Within a whyle she wolde be my mayster. 60
Therfore I shall bete her by cokkes mother,
Both on the tone syde and on the tother,
Before and behynde; nought shall be her bote,[247]
From the top of the heed to the sole of the fote.
But, masters, for Goddis sake, do not entrete 65
For her, whan that she shal be bete;
But, for Goddis passion, let me alone,
And I shall thwak her that she shall grone:
Wherfore I beseche you, and hartely you pray,
And I beseche you say me not nay, 70
But that I may beate her for this ones; A ii
And I shall beate her, by cokkes bones,
That she shall stynke lyke a pole-kat;
But yet, by goggis body, that nede nat,
For she wyll stynke without any betyng, 75
For every nyght ones she gyveth me an hetyng;
From her issueth suche a stynkyng smoke,
That the savour therof almost doth me choke.
But I shall bete her nowe, without fayle;
I shall bete her toppe and tayle, 80
Heed, shulders, armes, legges, and all,
I shall bete her, I trowe that I shall;
And, by goggis boddy, I tell you trewe,
I shall bete her tyll she be blacke and blewe.
But where the dyvell trowe ye she is gon? 85
I holde a noble[248] she is with Syr Jhān;
I fere I am begyled alway,
But yet in faith I hope well nay;
Yet I almost enrage that I ne can
Se the behavour of our gentylwoman. 90
And yet, I thynke, thyther as she doth go
Many an honest wyfe goth thyther also,
For to make some pastyme and sporte.
But than my wyfe so ofte doth thyther resorte
That I fere she wyll make me weare a fether. 95
But yet I nede not for to fere nether,
For he is her gossyp, that is he.
But abyde a whyle, yet let me se,
Where the dyvell hath our gyssypry[249] begon?
My wyfe had never chylde, daughter nor son. 100
Nowe if I forbede her that she go no more,
Yet wyll she go as she dyd before,
Or els wyll she chuse some other place;
And then the matter is in as yll case.
But in fayth all these wordes be in wast, 105
For I thynke the matter is done and past;
And whan she cometh home she wyll begyn to chyde,
But she shall have her payment styk by her syde;
For I shall order her, for all her brawlyng,
That she shall repent to go a catter-wawlyng.[250] 110

[_Enter_ TYB.]

_Tyb._ Why, whom wylt thou beate, I say, thou knave?

_Johan._ Who, I, Tyb? none, so God me save.

_Tyb._ Yes, I harde the say thou woldest one bete.

_Johan._ Mary, wyfe, it was stokfysshe[251] in Temmes Strete,
Whiche wyll be good meate agaynst Lent. A ii _b_ 115
Why, Tyb, what haddest thou thought that I had ment?

_Tyb._ Mary, me thought I harde the bawlyng.
Wilt thou never leve this wawlyng?[252]
Howe the dyvell dost thou thy selfe behave?
Shall we ever have this worke, thou knave? 120

_Johan._ What! wyfe, how sayst thou? was it well gest of me
That thou woldest be come home in safete,
As sone as I had kendled a fyre?
Come warme the, swete Tyb, I the requyre.

_Tyb._ O, Johan Johan, I am afrayd, by this lyght, 125
That I shalbe sore syk this nyght.

_Johan_ [_aside_]. By cokkis soule, nowe, I dare lay a swan
That she comes nowe streyght fro Syr Johan;
For ever whan she hath fatched of hym a lyk,
Than she comes home, and sayth she is syk. 130

_Tyb._ What sayst thou?

_Johan._ Mary, I say,
It is mete for a woman to go play
Abrode in the towne for an houre or two.

_Tyb._ Well, gentylman, go to, go to.

_Johan._ Well, let us have no more debate. 135

_Tyb_ [_aside_]. If he do not fyght, chyde, and rate,
Braule and fare as one that were frantyke,
There is nothyng that may hym lyke.[253]

_Johan_ [_aside_]. If that the parysshe preest, Syr Jhān,
Dyd not se her nowe and than,
And gyve her absolution upon a bed,
For wo and payne she wolde sone be deed.

_Tyb._ For goddis sake, Johan Johan, do the not displease,
Many a tyme I am yll at ease.
What thynkest nowe, am not I somwhat syk? 145

_Johan_ [_aside_]. Nowe wolde to God, and swete Saynt Dyryk,[254]
That thou warte in the water up to the throte,
Or in a burnyng oven red hote,
To se an I wolde pull the out.

_Tyb._ Nowe, Johan Johan, to put the out of dout, 150
Imagyn thou where that I was
Before I came home.

_Johan._ My percase,[255]
Thou wast prayenge in the Churche of Poules
Upon thy knees for all Chrysten soules.

_Tyb._ Nay.

_Johan._ Than if thou wast not so holy, 155
Shewe me where thou wast, and make no lye?

_Tyb._ Truely, Johan Johan, we made a pye,
I and my gossyp Margery,
And our gossyp the preest, Syr Jhān, A iii
And my neybours yongest doughter An; 160
The preest payde for the stuffe and the makyng,
And Margery she payde for the bakyng.

_Johan._ By cokkis lylly woundis,[256] that same is she,
That is the most bawde hens to Coventre.

_Tyb._ What say you?

_Johan._ Mary, answere me to this: 165
Is not Syr Johan a good man?

_Tyb._ Yes, that he is.

_Johan._ Ha, Tyb, if I shulde not greve the,
I have somewhat wherof I wolde meve the.[257]

_Tyb._ Well, husbande, nowe I do conject
That thou hast me somewhat in suspect; 170
But, by my soule, I never go to Syr Johan
But I fynde hym lyke an holy man,
For eyther he is sayenge his devotion,
Or els he is goynge in processyon.

_Johan_ [_aside_]. Yea, rounde about the bed doth he go, 175
You two together, and no mo;
And for to fynysshe the procession,
He lepeth up and thou lyest downe.

_Tyb._ What sayst thou?

_Johan._ Mary, I say he doth well,
For so ought a shepherde to do, as I harde tell, 180
For the salvation of all his folde.

_Tyb._ Johan Johan!

[_Johan._] What is it that thou wolde?

_Tyb._ By my soule I love thee too too,[258]
And I shall tell the, or I further go,
The pye that was made, I have it nowe here, 185
And therwith I trust we shall make good chere.

_Johan._ By kokkis body that is very happy.

_Tyb._ But wotest who gave it?

_Johan._ What the dyvel rek I?

_Tyb._ By my fayth, and I shall say trewe, than
The Dyvell take me, and it were not Syr Johan. 190

_Johan._ O holde the peas, wyfe, and swere no more,
But I beshrewe both your hartes therfore.

_Tyb._ Yet peradventure, thou hast suspection
Of that was never thought nor done.

_Johan._ Tusshe, wife, let all suche matters be, 195
I love thee well, though thou love not me:
But this pye doth nowe catche harme,
Let us set it upon the harth to warme.

_Tyb._ Than let us eate it as fast as we can.
But bycause Syr Jhān is so honest a man, 200
I wolde that he shulde therof eate his part.

_Johan._ That were reason, I thee ensure.

_Tyb._ Than, syns that it is thy pleasure,
I pray the than go to hym ryght, A iii _b_
And pray hym come sup with us to nyght. 205

_Jhan_ [_aside_]. Shall he cum hyther? by kokkis soule I was a-curst
Whan that I graunted to that worde furst!
But syns I have sayd it, I dare not say nay,
For than my wyfe and I shulde make a fray;
But whan he is come, I swere by goddis mother, 210
I wold gyve the dyvell the tone[259] to cary away the tother.

_Tyb._ What sayst?

_Johan._ Mary, he is my curate, I say,
My confessour and my frende alway,
Therfore go thou and seke hym by and by,
And tyll thou come agayne, I wyll kepe the pye. 215

_Tyb._ Shall I go for him? nay, I shrewe me than!
Go thou, and seke, as fast as thou can,
And tell hym it.

_Johan._ Shall I do so?
In fayth, it is not mete for me to go.

_Tyb._ But thou shalte go tell hym, for all that. 220

_Johan._ Than shall I tell hym, wotest [thou] what?
That thou desyrest hym to come make some chere.

_Tyb._ Nay, that thou desyrest hym to come sup here.

_Johan._ Nay, by the rode, wyfe, thou shalt have the worshyp
And the thankes of thy gest, that is thy gossyp. 225

_Tyb_ [_aside_]. Full ofte I se my husbande wyll me rate,
For this hether commyng of our gentyll curate.

_Johan._ What sayst, Tyb? let me here that agayne.

_Tyb._ Mary, I perceyve very playne
That thou hast Syr Johan somwhat in suspect; 230
But by my soule, as far as I conject,
He is vertuouse and full of charyte.

_Johan_ [_aside_]. In fayth, all the towne knoweth better, that he
Is a hore-monger, a haunter of the stewes,
An ypocrite, a knave, that all men refuse; 235
A lyer, a wretche, a maker of stryfe,
Better than they knowe that thou art my good wyfe.

_Tyb._ What is that, that thou hast sayde?

_Johan._ Mary, I wolde have the table set and layde,
In this place or that, I care not whether. 240

_Tyb._ Than go to, brynge the trestels[260] hyther.
Abyde[261] a whyle, let me put of my gown!
But yet I am afrayde to lay it down,
For I fere it shal be sone stolen.

[_Johan._] And yet it may lye safe ynough unstolen. 245

[_Tyb._] It may lye well here, and I lyst,--
But, by cokkis soule, here hath a dogge pyst;
And if I shulde lay it on the harth bare, A iv
It myght hap to be burned, or I were ware,
Therfore I pray you,[262] take ye the payne 250
To kepe my gowne tyll I come agayne.
But yet he shall not have it, by my fay,
He is so nere the dore, he myght ron away;
But bycause that ye be trusty and sure
Ye shall kepe it, and it be your pleasure; 255
And bycause it is arrayde[263] at the skyrt,
Whyle ye do nothyng, skrape of the dyrt.

[_Johan._] Lo, nowe am I redy to go to Syr Jhan,
And byd hym come as fast as he can.

[_Tyb._] Ye, do so without ony taryeng. 260
But I say, harke! thou hast forgot one thyng;
Set up the table, and that by and by.[264]
Nowe go thy ways.

[_Johan._] I go shortly;[265]
But se your candelstykkis be not out of the way.

_Tyb._ Come agayn, and lay the table I say; 265
What! me thynkkis, ye have sone don!

_Johan._ Nowe I pray God that his malediction
Lyght on my wyfe, and on the baulde[266] preest.

_Tyb._ Nowe go thy ways and hye the! seest?

_Johan._ I pray to Christ, if my wyshe be no synne, 270
That the preest may breke his neck, whan he comes in.

_Tyb._ Now cūm again.

_Johan._ What a myschefe wylt thou, fole!

_Tyb._ Mary, I say, brynge hether yender stole.

_Johan._ Nowe go to, a lyttell wolde make me
For to say thus, a vengaunce take the! 275

_Tyb._ Nowe go to hym, and tell hym playn,
That tyll thou brynge hym, thou wylt not come agayn.

_Johan._ This pye doth borne here as it doth stande.

_Tyb._ Go, washe me these two cuppes in my hande.

_Johan._ I go, with a myschyefe lyght on thy face! 280

_Tyb._ Go, and byd hym hye hym a pace,
And the whyle I shall all thynges amende.

_Johan._ This pye burneth here at this ende.
Understandest thou?

_Tyb._ Go thy ways, I say.

_Johan._ I wyll go nowe, as fast as I may. 285

_Tyb._ How, come ones agayne: I had forgot;
Loke, and there be ony ale in the pot.

_Johan._ Nowe a vengaunce and a very myschyefe
Lyght on the pylde[267] preest, and on my wyfe,
On the pot, the ale, and on the table, 290
The candyll, the pye, and all the rable,
On the trystels, and on the stole; A iv _b_
It is moche ado to please a curst fole.

_Tyb._ Go thy ways nowe, and tary no more,
For I am a hungred very sore. 295

_Johan._ Mary, I go.

_Tyb._ But come ones agayne yet;
Brynge hyther that breade, lest I forget it.

_Johan._ I-wys it were tyme for to torne
The pye, for y-wys it doth borne.

_Tyb._ Lorde! how my husbande nowe doth patter, 300
And of the pye styl doth clatter.
Go nowe, and byd hym come away;
I have byd the an hundred tymes to day.

_Johan._ I wyll not gyve a strawe, I tell you playne,
If that the pye waxe cold agayne. 305

_Tyb._ What! art thou not gone yet out of this place?
I had went,[268] thou haddest ben come agayn in the space:
But, by cokkis soule, and I shulde do the ryght,
I shulde breke thy knaves heed to nyght.

_Johan._ Nay, than if my wyfe be set a chydyng, 310
It is tyme for me to go at her byddyng.
There is a proverbe, whiche trewe nowe preveth,
He must nedes go that the dyvell dryveth.
[_He goes to the Priest's house._]
How mayster curate, may I come in
At your chamber dore, without ony syn. 315

SYR JHAN _the Preest_.

Who is there nowe that wolde have me?
What! Johan Johan! what newes with the?

_Johan._ Mary, Syr, to tell you shortly,
My wyfe and I pray you hartely,
And eke desyre you wyth all our myght, 320
That ye wolde come and sup with us to nyght.

_Syr J._ Ye must pardon me, in fayth I ne can.

_Johan._ Yes, I desyre you, good Syr Johan,
Take payne this ones; and, yet at the lest,
If ye wyll do nought at my request, 325
Yet do somewhat for the love of my wyfe.

_Syr J._ I wyll not go, for makyng of stryfe.
But I shall tell the what thou shalte do,
Thou shall tary and sup with me, or thou go.

_Johan._ Wyll ye not go than? why so? 330
I pray you tell me, is there any dysdayne,
Or ony enmyte, betwene you twayne?

_Syr J._ In fayth to tell the, betwene the and me,
She is as wyse a woman as any may be;
I know it well; for I have had the charge B i 335
Of her soule, and serchyd her conscyens at large.
I never knew her but honest and wyse,
Without any yvyll, or any vyce,
Save one faut, I know in her no more,
And because I rebuke her, now and then, therfore, 340
She is angre with me, and hath me in hate;
And yet that that I do, I do it for your welth.

_Johan._ Now God yeld it yow, god master curate,
And as ye do, so send you your helth,
Ywys I am bound to you a plesure. 345

_Syr J._ Yet thou thynkyst amys, peradventure,
That of her body she shuld not be a good woman,
But I shall tell the what I have done, Johan,
For that matter; she and I be somtyme aloft,
And I do lye uppon her, many a tyme and oft, 350
To prove her, yet could I never espy
That ever any dyd worse with her than I.

_Johan._ Syr, that is the lest care I have of nyne,
Thankyd be God, and your good doctryne;
But yf it please you, tell me the matter, 355
And the debate[269] betwene you and her.

_Syr J._ I shall tell the, but thou must kepe secret.

_Johan._ As for that, Syr, I shall not let.

_Syr J._ I shall tell the now the matter playn,--
She is angry with me and hath me in dysdayn 360
Because that I do her oft intyce
To do some penaunce, after myne advyse,
Because she wyll never leve her wrawlyng,[270]
But alway with the she is chydyng and brawlyng;
And therfore I knowe, she hatyth [my] presens. 365

_Johan._ Nay, in good feyth, savyng your reverens.

_Syr J._ I know very well, she hath me in hate.

_Johan._ Nay, I dare swere for her, master curate:
[_Aside_] But, was I not a very knave?
I thought surely, so god me save, 370
That he had lovyd my wyfe, for to deseyve me,
And now he quytyth hym-self; and here I se
He doth as much as he may, for his lyfe,
To styn[te][271] the debate betwene me and my wyfe.

_Syr J._ If ever she dyd, or though[t][272] me any yll, 375
Now I forgyve her with m[y][273] fre wyll;
Therfore, Johan Johan, now get the home
And thank thy wyfe, and say I wyll not come.

_Johan._ Yet, let me know, now, good Syr Johan, B i _b_
Where ye wyll go to supper than. 380

_Syr J._ I care nat greatly and I tell the.
On saterday last, I and ii or thre
Of my frendes made an appoyntement,
And agaynst this nyght we dyd assent
That in a place we wolde sup together; 385
And one of them sayd, he[274] wolde brynge thether
Ale and bread; and for my parte, I
Sayd, that I wolde gyve them a pye,
And there I gave them money for the makynge;
And an-other sayd, she wolde pay for the bakyng; 390
And so we purpose to make good chere
For to dryve away care and thought.

_Johan._ Than I pray you, Syr, tell me here,
Whyther shulde all this geare be brought?

_Syr J._ By my fayth, and I shulde not lye, 395
It shulde be delyvered to thy wyfe, the pye.

_Johan._ By God! it is at my house, standyng by the fyre.

_Syr J._ Who bespake that pye? I the requyre.

_Johan._ By my feyth, and I shall not lye,
It was my wyfe, and her gossyp Margerye, 400
And your good masshyp,[275] callyd Syr Johan,
And my neybours yongest doughter An;
Your masshyp payde for the stuffe and makyng,
And Margery she payde for the bakyng.[276]

_Syr J._ If thou wylte have me nowe, in faithe I wyll go. 405

_Johan._ Ye, mary, I beseche your masshyp do so,
My wyfe taryeth for none but us twayne;
She thynketh longe or I come agayne.

_Syr J._ Well nowe, if she chyde me in thy presens,
I wylbe content, and take [it] in pacyens. 410

_Johan._ By cokkis soule, and she ones chyde,
Or frowne, or loure, or loke asyde,
I shall brynge you a staffe as myche as I may heve,
Than bete her and spare not; I gyve you good leve
To chastyce her for her shreude varyeng. 415
[_They return to_ JOHAN'S _house_.]

_Tyb._ The devyll take the for thy long taryeng!
Here is not a whyt of water, by my gowne,
To washe our handes that we myght syt downe;
Go and hye the, as fast as a snayle,
And with fayre water fyll me this payle. 420

_Johan._ I thanke our Lorde of his good grace
That I cannot rest longe in a place.

_Tyb._ Go, fetche water, I say, at a worde, B ii
For it is tyme the pye were on the borde;
And go with a vengeance, & say thou art prayde. 425

_Syr. J._ A! good gossyp! is that well sayde?

_Tyb._ Welcome, myn owne swete harte,
We shall make some chere or we departe.

_Johan._ Cokkis soule, loke howe he approcheth nere
Unto my wyfe: this abateth my chere. [_Exit._] 430

_Syr J._ By God, I wolde ye had harde the tryfyls,
The toys, the mokkes, the fables, and the nyfyls,[277]
That I made thy husbande to beleve and thynke!
Thou myghtest as well into the erthe synke,
As thou coudest forbeare laughyng any whyle. 435

_Tyb._ I pray the let me here part of that wyle.

_Syr J._ Mary, I shall tell the as fast as I can.
But peas, no more--yonder cometh thy good man.

[_Re-enter_ JOHAN.]

_Johan._ Cokkis soule, what have we here?
As far as I sawe, he drewe very nere 440
Unto my wyfe.

_Tyb._ What, art come so sone?
Gyve us water to wasshe nowe--have done.

_Than he bryngeth the payle empty._

_Johan._ By kockes soule, it was, even nowe, full to the brynk,
But it was out agayne or I coude thynke;
Wherof I marveled, by God Almyght, 445
And than I loked betwene me and the lyght
And I spyed a clyfte, bothe large and wyde.
Lo, wyfe! here it is on the tone[278] syde.

_Tyb._ Why dost not stop it?

_Johan._ Why, howe shall I do it?

_Tyb._ Take a lytle wax.

_Johan._ Howe shal I come to it? 450

_Syr J._ Mary, here be ii wax candyls, I say,
Whiche my gossyp Margery gave me yesterday.

_Tyb._ Tusshe, let hym alone, for, by the rode,
It is pyte to helpe hym, or do hym good.

_Syr J._ What! Jhan Jhan, canst thou make no shyfte? 455
Take this waxe, and stop therwith the clyfte.

_Johan._ This waxe is as harde as any wyre.

_Tyb._ Thou must chafe it a lytle at the fyre.

_Johan._ She that boughte the these waxe candylles twayne,
She is a good companyon certayn. 460

_Tyb._ What, was it not my gossyp Margery?

_Syr J._ Yes, she is a blessed woman surely.

_Tyb._ Nowe wolde God I were as good as she,
For she is vertuous, and full of charyte.

_Johan_ [_aside_]. Nowe, so God helpe me; and by my holydome,[279] 465
She is the erranst baud betwene this and Rome.

_Tyb._ What sayst? B ii _b_

_Johan._ Mary, I chafe the wax,
And I chafe it so hard that my fingers krakks.
But take up this py that I here torne;
And it stand long, y-wys it wyll borne. 470

_Tyb._ Ye, but thou must chafe the wax, I say.

_Johan._ Byd hym syt down, I the pray--
Syt down, good Syr Johan, I you requyre.