[Extracted from Towneley Mysteries, Surtees Society ed., 1836, pp. 310-21.]
Tutivillus. Whi spyr ye not syr
I am oone of youre order and oone of your sons;
I stande at my tristur when othere men shones.
Primus Daemon. Now thou art myn awne querestur,
I wote where thou wonnes;
Do telle me.
Tutivillus. I was youre chefe tollare,
And sithen courte rollar,
Now am I master Lollar,
And of sich men I melle me;
I have broght to youre hande of saules, dar I say,
Mo than ten thowsand in an howre of a day;
Som at aylle-howse I fande, and som of ferray,
Som cursid, som bande, som yei som nay;
Thus broght I on blure,
Thus dyd I my cure.
Primus Daemon. Thou art the best sawgeoure
That ever had I any.
Tutivillus. Here a rolle of ragman of the rownde tabille,
Of breifes in my bag, man, of synnes dampnabille,
Unethes may I wag, man, for wery in youre stabille
Whils I set my stag, man.
Secundus Daemon. Abide, ye ar abille
To take wage;
Thow can of cowrte thew,
Bot lay dovvne the dewe
For thon wille be a shrew,
Be thou com at age.
Tutivillus. Here I be gesse of many nyce hoket,
Of care and of curstnes, hethyng and hoket,
Gay gere and witles, his hode set on koket,
As prowde as pennyles, his slefe has no poket,
With thare liemmyd shoyn,
Alle this must be done,
Bot fyre is out at hye noyne
And hie barnes bredeles.
A home and a duch ax, his slefe must be flekyt,
A syde hede and a fare fax, his gowne must be spekytt,
Thus toke I youre tax, thus ar my bokys blekyt.
Primus Daemon. Thou art best on thi wax that ever was clekyt,
With wordes wilie thou fille us,
Bot telle thi name tille us.
Tutivillus. Mi name is Tutivillus,
My home is blaweri;
Fragmina verborum Tutivillus colligit horum,
Belzabub algorum, Belial belium doliorum.
Secundus Daemon. What, I se thou can of gramory and som what of arte;
Had I bot a penny on the wold I warte,
Tutivillus. Of femellys a quantite here fynde I parte.
Primus Daemon. Tutivillus, let se, Godes forbot thou sparte!
Tutivillus. So joly,
Ilka las in a lande
Like a lady nere hande,
So freshe and so plesande,
Makes men to foly.
If she be never so fowlle a dowde, with hir kelles and hir pynnes,
The shrew hir self can shrowde, both hir chekys and hir chynnes,
She can make it fulle prowde with japes and with gynnes,
Hir hede as hy as a clowde, bot no shame of hir synnes
When she is thus paynt,
She makes it so quaynte,
She lokes like a saynt,
And wars then the deyle.
She is hornyd like a kowe fon syn,
The cuker hynges so side now, furrid with a cat skyn,
Alle thise ar for you, thay ar commen of youre kyn.
Secundus Daemon. Now, the best body art thou that ever cam here in.
Tutivillus. An usage,
Swilk dar I undertake,
Makes theym breke thare wedlake,
And lif in syn for hir sake,
And breke thare awne spowsage.
Yet a poynt have I fon, I telle you before,
That fals swerers shalle hider com mo than a thowsand skore;
In sweryng thai grefe Godes son, and pyne hym more and more,
Therfor mon thai with us won in helle for ever more.
I say thus,
That rasers of the fals tax,
And gederars of greyn wax,
Diabolus est mendax
Et pater ejus.
Yit a poynte of the new gett to telle wille I not blyn,
Of prankyd gownes and shulders up set, mos and flokkes sewyd wyth in,
To use sich gise thai wille not let, thai say it is no syn,
Bot on sich pilus I me set and clap thaym cheke and chyn,
David in his sawtere says thus
That to helle shalle thay trus,
Cum suis adinventionibus,
For onys and for ay.
Yit of thise kyrkchaterars here ar a menee,
Of barganars and okerars and lufars of symonee,
Of runkers and rowners, God castes thaym out, trulee,
From his temple alle sich mysdoers, I each thaym then to me
For writen I wote it is
In the Gospelle, withoutten mys,
Et earn fecistis
Yit of the synnes seven som thyng specialle
Now nately to neven, that ronnys over alle,
Thise laddes thai leven as lordes rialle.
At ee to be even picturde yn palle
May he dug hym a doket,
A kodpese like a pokett,
Hym thynk it no hoket
His taylle when he wrynges.
His luddokkys thai lowke like walk-mylne clogges,
His hede is like a stowke, hurlyd as hogges,
A welle blawen bowke thise frygges as frogges,
This jelian jowke dryfys he no dogges
Bot with youre yolow lokkys,
For alle youre many mokkes,
Ye shalle clym on helle crokkys
With a halpeny heltere.
And Nelle with hir nyfyls of crisp and of sylke,
Tent welle youre twyfyls your nek abowte as mylke;
With youre bendys and youre bridyls of Sathan the whilke,
Sir Sathanas idyls you for tha ilke
This gille knave,
It is open behynde,
Before is it pynde,
Bewar of the west wynde
Youre smok lest it wafe.
Of ire and of envy fynde I herto,
Of covetyse and glotony and many other mo?
Thai calle and thai cry "go we now, go,
I dy nere for dry," and ther syt thai so
With hawvelle and jawvelle,
Syngyng of lawvelle,
Thise ar howndes of belief
That is thare right.
In slewthe then thai syn, Goddes warkes thai not wyrke,
To belke thai begyn and spew that is irke,
His hede must be holdyn ther in the myrke,
Then deffes hym with dyn the bellys of the kyrke
When thai clatter;
He wishys the clerke hanged
For that he rang it,
Bot thar hym not lang it,
What commys ther after.
And ye Janettes of the stewys; and lychoures on lofte
Your bailie now brewys, avowtrees fulle ofte,
Youre gam now grewys, I shalle you set softe,
Your sorow enewes, com to my crofte
Alle harlottes and horres,
And bawdes that procures,
To bryng thaym to lures,
Welcom to my see.
Ye lurdans and lyars, mychers and thefes,
Fly tars and flyars that alle men reprefes,
Spolars, extorcyonars, welcom, my lefes!
Fals jurors and usurars to symony that clevys,
Hasardars and dysars,
Fals dedes forgars,
Alle unto helle.
Primus Daemon. When I harde many swilke, many spytus and felle,
And few good of ilke I had mervelle,
I trowid it drew nere the prik.
Secundus Daemon. Sir, a worde of counselle;
Saules cam so thyk now late unto helle
Oure porter at helle gate
Is halden so strate,
Up erly and downe late,
He rystys never.
Primus Daemon. Thou art pereles of tho that ever yit knew I,
When I wille may I go if thou be by;
Go we now, we two.
Secundus Daemon. Sir, I am redy.
Primus Daemon. Take oure rolles also, ye knaue
the cause why,
And tent welle this day.
Secundus Daemon. Sir, as welle as I may.
Primus Daemon. Qui vero mala.
Secundus Daemon. In ignem aeternum.
Jesus. Ilka creatoure take tente
What bodwarde I shalle you bryng,
This wykyd warld away is wente,
And I am commen as crownyd kyng,
Mi fader of heven has me downe sent,
To deme youre dedes and make endyng,
Commen is the day of Jugemente,
Of sorrow may every synfulle syng.
The day is commen of catyfnes,
Alle those to care that ar uncleyn,
The day of batelle and bitternes,
Fulle long abiden has it beyn;
The day of drede to more and les,
Of joy, of tremlyng and of teyn,
Ilka wight that wykyd is
May say alas this day is seyn.
Tune expandit manus suas et ostendit eis vulncra sua,
Here may ye se my woundes wide
That I suflfred for youre mysdede,
Thrughe harte, hede, fote, hande and syde,
Not for my gilte bot for youre nede.
Behald both bak, body, and syde,
How dere I boght youre broder-hede,
Thise bitter paynes I wold abide,
To by you blys thus wold I blede.
Mi body was skowrgid withoutten skille,
Also ther fulle throly was I thrett,
On crosse thai hang me on a hille,
Bio and blody thus was I bett,
With crowne of thorne thrastyn fulle ille,
A spere unto my harte thai sett.
Mi harte blode sparid thai not to spille,
Man, for thi luf had I not lett.
The Jues spytt on me spitusly,
Thai sparid me no more then a thefe,
When thai me smote I stud stilly,
Agans thaym did I nokyns grefe;
Beholde, mankynde, this ilke am I
That for the suffred sich myschefe,
Thus was I dight for thi foly,
Man, loke thi luf was me fulle lefe.
Thus was I dight thi sorow to slake,
Man, thus behovid the borud to be,
In alle my wo tooke I no wrake,
My wille it was for luf of the;
Man, for sorow aght the to qwake,
This dredful day this sight to se,
Alle this sufFred I for thi sake,
Say, man, what suffred thou for me?
Tune vertens se ad bonos, dieit ittis
Mi blissid barnes on my right hande,
Youre dome this day thar ye not drede,
For alle youre joy is now commande,
Youre life in lykyng shalle ye lede;
Commes to the kyngdom ay lastand,
That you is dight for youre good dede,
Fulle blithe may ye be there ye stand,
For mekille in heven bees youre mede.
When I was hungre ye me fed,
To slek my tkrist ye war fulle fre,
When I was cloth les ye me cled,
Ye wold no sorowe on me se;
In hard prison when I was sted
On my penance ye had pyte,
Fulle seke when I was broght in bed
Kyndly ye cam to comforth me.
When I was wille and weriest
Ye harberd me fulle esely,
Fulle glad then were ye of youre gest,
Ye plenyd my poverte fulle pitusly;
Belife ye broght me of the best,
And maide my bed there I shuld ly,
Therfor in Jheven shalle be youre rest,
In joy and blys to beld me by.
Primus Bonus. Lord, when had them so mekille nede?
Hungre or thrusty how myght it be?
Secundus Bonus. When was oure harte fre the to feede?
In prison when myght we the se?
Tercius Bonus. When was thou seke or wantyd wede?
To harbowre the when helpid we?
Quartus Bonus. When had thou nede of oure fordede?
When did we alle this dede for the?
Jesus. Mi blissid barnes, I shalle you say
What tyme this dede was to me done,
When any that nede had nyght or day,
Askyd you help and had it sone;
Youre fre harte saide theym never nay,
Erly ne late, myd-day ne noyn,
As ofte-sithes as thai wold pray,
Thai thurte bot aske and have thare boyn.
Tune dicet malts,
Ye cursid catyfs of Kames kyn,
That never me comforthid in my care,
Now I and ye for ever shalle twyn,
In doylle to dwelle for ever mare;
Youre bitter bayles shalle never blyn
That ye shall thole when ye com thare,
Thus have ye servyd for youre syn,
For derfe dedes ye have doyn are.
When I had myster of mete and drynke,
Catyfs, ye chaste me from youre yate,
When ye were set as syres on bynke
I stode ther oute wery and wate,
Yet none of you wold on me thynke,
To have pite on my poore astate,
Therfor to helle I shalle you synke,
Welle are ye worthy to go that gate.
When I was seke and soryest
Ye viset me noght, for I was poore,
In prison fast when I was fest
Wold none of you loke how I foore;
When I wist never where to rest
With dyntes ye drofe me from youre doore,
Bot ever to pride then were ye prest,
Mi flesh, my bloode, ye oft forsware.
Clothles, when that I was cold
That nere hande for you yode I nakyd,
Mi myschefe saghe ye many folde,
Was none of you my sorow slakyd;
Bot ever forsoke me yong and olde,
Therfor shalle ye now be forsakyd.
Primus Malus. Lorde, when had thou, that alle has,
Hunger or thriste, sen thou God is?
When was that thou in prison was?
When was thou nakyd or harberles?
Secundus Malus. When myght we see the seke, alas!
And kyd the alle this unkyndnes?
Tercius Malus. When was we let the helples pas?
When dyd we the this wikydnes?
Quartus Malus. Alas, for doylle this day!
Alas, that ever I it abode!
Now am I dampned for ay,
This dome may I not avoyde.
Jesus. Catyfs, alas, ofte as it betyde
That nedefulle oght askyd in my name,
Ye hard them noght, youre eeres was hid,
Youre help to thaym was not at hame;
To me was that unkyndnes kyd,
Therfor ye bere this bitter blame,
To the lest of myne when ye oghte dyd,
To me ye dyd the self and same.
Tune dicet bonis.
Mi chosyn childer, comes to me,
With me to dwelle now shalle ye weynde,
Ther joy and blys ever shalle be,
Youre life in lykyng for to leynde.
Tune dicet malis.
Ye warid wightes, from me ye fle,
In helle to dwelle withoutten ende,
Ther shalle ye noght bot sorow se,
And sit bi Sathanas the feynde.
Primus Daemon. Do now go furthe, trus, go we hyne,
Unto endles wo, ay-lastand pyne,
Nay, tary not so, we get ado syne.
Secundus Daemon. Flyte hyder warde, ho, Harry Ruskyne,
The meynshall ye nebylle,
And I shalle syng the trebille,
A revant the deville
Tille alle this hole rowte.
Tutivillus. Youre lyfes ar lorne and commen is you re care,
Ye may ban ye were borne the bodes you bare,
And you re faders beforne, so cursid ye ar.
Primus Daemon. Ye may wary the morne and day that ye ware
Of youre model-
First borne forto be,
For the wo ye mon dre.
Secundus Daemon. Ilkon of you mon se
Sorow of oder;
Where is the gold and the good that ye gederd togedir?
The mery menee that yode hider and thedir?
Tutivillus. Gay gyrdyls, jaggid hode, prankyd gownes, whedir?
Have ye wit or ye wode ye broght not hider
And your synnes in youre nekkys.
Primus Daemon. I beshrew thaym that rekkys,
He comes to late that bekkys
Youre bodyes to borow.
Secundus Daemon. Sir, I wold cut thaym a skawte and make theym be knawen,
Thay were sturdy and hawte, great boste have thai blawne,
Youre pride and youre pransawte what wille it gawne?
Ye tolde ilk man's defawte and forgate youre awne.
Thare neghburs thai demyd,
Thaym self as it semyd,
Bot now ar thai ilemyd
From sayntes to recover.
Primus Daemon. Thare neghburs thai towchid with wordes fulle ille,
The warst ay thai sowchid and had no skille.
Secundus Daemon. The pennys thai powchid and held thaym stille,
The negons thai mowchid and had no wille
For hart fare,
Bot riche and ille-dedy,
Gederand and gredy,
Sor napand and nedy
Youre godee forto spare.
Tutivillus. For alle that ye spard and dyd extorcyon,
For youre childer ye card, youre heyre and youre son
Now is alle in oure ward, youre yeres ar ron,
It is commen in vowgard youre dame malison,
To bynde it;
Ye set bi no cursyng,
Ne no siche smalle thyng.
Primus Daemon. No, bot prase at the partyng,
For now mon ye fynde it;
Youre leyfes and your females, ye brake youre wedlake,
Telle me now what it vales alle that mery lake?
Se so falsly it falys.
Secundus Daemon. Syr, I dar undertake
Thai wille telle no tales, bot se so thai qwake
He that to that gam gose,
Now namely on old tose.
Tutivillus. Thou held up the lose
That had I forgotten.
Primus Daemon. Sir, 1 trow thai be dom som tyme were fulie melland,
Welle ye se how thai glom.
Secundus Daemon. Thou art ay telland,
Now shalle thai have rom in pyk and tar ever dwelland,
Of thare sorow no some, bot ay to be yelland
In oure fostre.
Tutivillus. By youre lefe may we mefe you?
Primus Daemon. Showe furthe, I shrew you.
Secundus Daemon. Yet tonyght shalle I shew you
A mese of ille ostre.
Tutivillus. Of thise cursid forsworne and alle that here leyndes,
Blaw, wolfes-hede and oute-horne, now namely my freyndes.
Primus Daemon. Ilia haille were ye borne, youre awne shame you sheyndes
That shalle ye fynde or to morne.
Secundus Daemon. Com now with feyndes
To youre angre;
Youre dedes you dam,
Com, go we now sam,
It is commen youre gam,
Com, tary no longer.
Primus Bonus. We love the, Lord, in alkyn thyng,
That for thyne awrie has ordand thus,
That we may have now oure dwellyng
In heven blis giffen unto us;
Therfor fulle boldly may we syng
On oure way as we trus,
Make alle myrthe and lovyng
With Te, Deum, laudamus.