A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume I. by R. Dodsley
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R. Dodsley >> A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume I.
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_Intrat_ DANIO _pater_ MELIBAEAE.
O marvellous God, what a dream had I to-night!
Most terrible vision to report and hear!
I had never none such, nor none yearthly wight.
Alas! when I think thereon, I quake for fear;
It was of Melibaea, my daughter dear.
God send me good tidings of her shortly,
For, till I hear from her, I cannot be merry.
_Intrat_ MELIBAEA.
MEL. O dear father, nothing may me more displease,
Nothing may do me more annoyance,
Nothing may do me greater disease,
Than to see you, father, in any perturbance,
For me chiefly, or for any other chance.
But for me I pray you not to be sad,
For I have no cause but to be merry and glad.
DAN. O sweet Melibaea, my daughter dear,
I am replete with joy and felicity,
For that ye be now in my presence here,
As I perceive, in joy and prosperity;
From death to life me thinketh it reviveth me;
For the fearful dream that I had lately.
MEL. What dream, sir, was that, I pray you heartily?
DAN. Doubtless, me thought that I was walking
In a fair orchard, where were places two:
The one was a hot bath, wholesome and pleasing
To all people that did repair thereto,
To wash them and clean them from sickness also;
The other a pit of foul stinking water;
Shortly they died, all that therein did enter.
And unto this wholesome bath methought that ye
In the right path were coming apace,
But before that methought that I did see
A foul, rough bitch--a prick-eared cur it was--
Which straking her body along on the grass,
And with her tail licked her so, that she
Made herself a fair spaniel to be.
This bitch then (methought) met you in the way,
Leaping and fawning upon you apace,
And round about you did run and play,
Which made you then disport and solace;
Which liked you so well, that in short space
The way to the hot bath anon ye left it,
And took the straight way to the foul pit.
And ever ye looked continually
Upon that same bitch, and so much her eyed,
That ye came to the foul pit-brink suddenly,
Like to have fallen in, and to have been destroyed,
Which when I saw, anon then I cried,
Starting in my sleep, and therewith did awake;
That yet for fear, methink, my body doth quake.
Was not this a fearful dream and marvellous?
I pray you, daughter, what think ye now to this?
_Hic_ MELIBAEA _certo tempore non loquitur, sed vultu lamentabili
respicit_.
Why speak ye not? why be ye now so studious?
Is there anything that hath chanced you amiss?
I am your father: tell me what it is.
MEL. Alas, now your dream, which ye have expressed,
Hath made me all pensive and sore abashed.
DAN. I pray you, dear daughter, now tell me why?
MEL. Sir, I know the cause of your vision,
And what your dreadful dream doth signify.
DAN. Thereof would I fain now have knowlition.
MEL. Alas, dear father, alas, what have I done?
Offended God as a wretch unworthy!
DAN. Wherein? despair not; God is full of mercy.
_Et genuflectat_.
MEL. Then on my knees now I fall down,
And of God chiefly asking forgiveness;
And next of you; for into oblivion
I have put your doctrine and lessons doubtless.
DAN. Fear not, daughter, I am not merciless;
I trust ye have not so greatly offended,
But that right well it may be amended.
MEL. Ye have fostered me up full lovingly
In virtuous discipline, which is the right path
To all grace and virtue; which doth signify
By your dream the fair, pleasant, wholesome bath:
The foul pit, whereof ye dreamed, which hath
Destroyed so many, betokeneth vice and sin,
In which, alas, I had almost fallen in.
The prick-eared cur and the foul bitch,
Which made herself so smooth and fair to see,
Betokeneth an old quean, a bawdy witch,
Called Celestina, that woe might she be!
Which with her fair words aye so persuaded me,
That she had almost brought me hereunto,
To fulfil the foul lust of Calisto.
DAN. Alas, dear daughter, I taught you a lesson,
Which way ye should attain unto virtue:
That was every morning to say an orison,
Praying God for grace all vice to eschew.
MEL. O dear father, that lesson I have kept true;
Which preserved me, for though I did consent
In mind, yet had he never his intent.
DAN. The virtue of that prayer, I see well one thing,
Hath preserved you from the shame of that sin;
But because ye were somewhat consenting,
Ye have offended God greatly therein;
Wherefore, daughter, ye must now begin
Humbly to beseech God of His mercy
For to forgive you your sin and misery.
MEL. O blessed Lord, and father celestial,
Whose infinite mercy no tongue can express,
Though I be a sinner, wretch of wretches all,
Yet of thy great mercy grant me forgiveness.
Full sore I repent, my sin I confess:
Intending henceforth never to offend more:
Now humbly I beseech thy mercy therefore.
DAN. Now that is well said, mine own fair daughter;
Stand up therefore, for I know verily,
That God is good and merciful ever
To all sinners which will ask mercy,
And be repentant and in will clearly
To sin no more. He of His great goodness
Will grant them therefore His grace and forgiveness.
Lo, here ye may see, what a thing it is
To bring up young people virtuously,
In good custom; for grace doth never miss
To them that use good prayers daily,
Which hath preserved this maid undoubtedly,
And kept her from actual deed of shame:
Brought her to grace: preserved her good name.
Wherefore, ye virgins and fair maidens all,
Unto this example now take good heed;
Serve God daily; the sooner ye shall
To honesty and goodness no doubt proceed;
And God shall send you ever his grace at need
To withstand all evil temptations,
That shall come to you by any occasions.
And ye, fathers, mothers, and other, which be
Rulers of young folks, your charge is doubtless
To bring them up virtuously, and to see
Them occupied still in some good business;
Not in idle pastime or unthriftiness,
But to teach them some art, craft, or learning,
Whereby to be able to get their living.
The bringers-up of youth in this region
Have done great harm because of their negligence,
Not putting them to learning nor occupations:
So, when they have no craft nor science,
And come to man's state, ye see the experience,
That many of them compelled be
To beg or steal by very necessity.
But if there be therefore any remedy,
The heads and rulers must first be diligent
To make good laws, and execute them straitly,
Upon such masters that be negligent.
Alas! we make no laws, but punishment,
When men have offended. But laws evermore
Would be made to prevent the cause before.
If the cause of the mischiefs were seen before,
Which by conjecture to fall be most likely,
And good laws and ordinance made therefore
To put away the cause, that were best remedy.
What is the cause, that there be so many
Thefts and robberies? It is because men be
Driven thereto by need and poverty.
And what is the very cause of that need?
Because they labour not for their living;
And truth is, they cannot well labour indeed,
Because in youth of their idle upbringing.
But this thing shall never come to reforming,
But the world continually shall be nought,
As long as young people be evil up-brought.
Wherefore the eternal God, that reigneth on high,
Send his merciful grace and influence
To all governors, that they circumspectly
May rule their inferiors by such prudence,
To bring them to virtue and due obedience,
And that they and we all by his great mercy
May be partners of his blessed glory.
AMEN.[71]
EVERYMAN: A MORAL PLAY.
_EDITIONS.
For a list of the editions, see Hazlitt_ ut infra. _A facsimile of the
title-page of one of the editions by Skot is here given. Neither of the
editions by Pynson has the title_.
HAWKINS'S PREFACE.
This morality, or moral play, was published early in the reign of Henry
VIII.,[72] and is given from a black-letter copy,[73] preserved in the
library of the church of Lincoln. It was communicated to the editor with
the greatest politeness by the Rev. Dr Stinton, chancellor of that
church. The design of it was to inculcate great reverence for old mother
church and her Popish superstitions.
As the most ingenious Dr Percy has given an analysis of this and the
following moralities, they are, with his permission, prefixed to the
present edition:--"The subject of this piece is the summoning of man out
of the world by death; and its moral, that nothing will then avail him
but a well-spent life and the comforts of religion. This subject and
moral are opened in a monologue spoken by the Messenger (for that was the
name generally given by our ancestors to the prologue on their rude
stage). Then God is represented, who, after some general complaints on
the degeneracy of mankind, calls for Death, and orders him to bring
before his tribunal Everyman, for so is called the personage who
represents the human race. Everyman appears, and receives the summons
with all the marks of confusion and terror. When Death is withdrawn,
Everyman applies for relief in this distress to Fellowship, Kindred,
Goods, or Riches, but they successfully renounce and forsake him. In this
disconsolate state he betakes himself to Good Deeds, who, after
upbraiding him with his long neglect of her, introduces him to her sister
Knowledge, and she leads him to the holy man Confession, who appoints him
penance; this he inflicts upon himself on the stage, and then withdraws
to receive the sacraments of the priest. On his return he begins to wax
faint; and, after Strength, Beauty, Discretion, and Five Wits, have all
taken their final leave of him, gradually expires on the stage; Good
Deeds still accompanying him to the last. Then an angel descends to sing
his _requiem_; and the epilogue is spoken by a person called Doctor, who
recapitulates the whole, and delivers the moral.
DOCTOR.
'This moral men may have in mind;
Ye hearers, take it of worth old and young,
And forsake pride, for he deceiveth you in the end,
And remember Beauty, Five Wits, Strength, and Discretion.
They all at the last do Everyman forsake;
Save his Good Deeds there doth he take:
But beware, and they be small,
Before God he hath no help at all.'
"From this short analysis it may be observed that Everyman is a grave,
solemn piece, not without some rude attempts to excite terror and pity,
and therefore may not improperly be referred to the class of tragedy. It
is remarkable that in this old simple drama the fable is conducted upon
the strictest model of the Greek tragedy. The action is simply one, the
time of action is that of the performance, the scene is never changed,
nor the stage ever empty. Everyman, the hero of the piece, after his
first appearance, never withdraws, except when he goes out to receive the
sacrament, which could not well be exhibited in public; and during this,
Knowledge descants on the excellence and power of the priesthood,
somewhat after, the manner of the Greek chorus. And, indeed, except in
the circumstance of Everyman's expiring on the stage, the 'Samson
Agonistes' of Milton is hardly formed on a severer plan."[74]
The woodcuts accompanying this and the succeeding piece (_Hickescorner_),
occur in the original editions by Skot, and presumably were also in those
by Pynson.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MESSENGER. KNOWLEDGE.
GOD. CONFESSION.
DEATH. BEAUTY.
EVERYMAN. STRENGTH.
FELLOWSHIP. DISCRETION.
KINDRED. FIVE WITS.
GOODS. ANGEL.
GOOD DEEDS. DOCTOR.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
HERE BEGINNETH A TREATISE HOW THE HIGH FATHER OF HEAVEN SENDETH DEATH TO
SUMMON
EVERY CREATURE TO COME AND GIVE ACCOUNT OF THEIR LIVES IN THIS WORLD, AND
IS IN MANNER OF A MORAL PLAY.
MESSENGER.
I Pray you all give your audience,
And hear this matter with reverence,
By figure a moral play;
The Summoning of Everyman called it is,
That of our lives and ending shows,
How transitory we be all day:
This matter is wonders[75] precious,
But the intent of it is more gracious,
And sweet to bear away.
The story saith: man, in the beginning
Look well, and take good heed to the ending,
Be you never so gay:
Ye think sin in the beginning full sweet,
Which in the end causeth thy soul to weep,
When the body lieth in clay.
Here shall you see how Fellowship and Jollity,
Both Strength, Pleasure, and Beauty,
Will fade from thee as flower in May;
For ye shall hear, how our Heaven King
Calleth Everyman to a general reckoning:
Give audience, and hear what he doth say.
GOD[76] _speaketh_.
I perceive here in my Majesty,
How that all creatures be to me unkind,
Living without dread in worldly prosperity:
Of ghostly sight the people be so blind,
Drowned in sin, they knew me not for their God;
In worldly riches is all their mind,
They fear not my rightwiseness, the sharp rod;
My law that I showed, when I for them died,
They forget clean, and shedding of my blood red;
I hanged between two, it cannot be denied;
To get them life I suffered to be dead;
I healed their feet, with thorns hurt was my head:
I could do no more than I did truly,
And now I see the people do clean forsake me:
They use the seven deadly sins damnable,
As pride, covetise, wrath, and lechery,
Now in the world be made commendable:
And thus they leave, of angels the heavenly company,
Every man liveth so after his own pleasure,
And yet of their life they be nothing sure:
I see the more that I them forbear
The worse they be from year to year;
All that liveth appaireth[77] fast,
Therefore I will in all the haste
Have a reckoning of every man's person;
For, and I leave the people thus alone
In their life and wicked tempests,
Verily they will become much worse than beasts;
For now one would by envy another up eat;
Charity they do all clean forget.
I hoped well that every man
In my glory should make his mansion,
And thereto I had them all elect;
But now I see, like traitors deject,
They thank me not for the pleasure that I to them meant,
Nor yet for their being that I them have lent;
I proffered the people great multitude of mercy,
And few there be that asketh it heartly;
They be so cumbered with worldly riches,
That needs on them I must do justice,
On every man living without fear.
Where art thou, Death, thou mighty messenger?
DEATH.
Almighty God, I am here at your will,
Your commandment to fulfil.
GOD.
Go thou to Everyman,
And show him in my name
A pilgrimage he must on him take,
Which he in no wise may escape;
And that he bring with him a sure reckoning
Without delay or any tarrying.
DEATH.
Lord, I will in the world go run over all,
And cruelly out-search both great and small;
Every man will I beset that liveth beastly,
Out of God's laws, and dreadeth not folly:
He that loveth riches I will strike with my dart,
His sight to blind, and fro heaven to depart,
Except that alms be his good friend,
In hell for to dwell, world without end.
Lo, yonder I see Everyman walking:
Full little he thinketh on my coming:
His mind is on fleshly lusts and his treasure;
And great pain it shall cause him to endure
Before the Lord, heaven's King.
Everyman, stand still; whither art thou going
Thus gaily? hast thou thy Maker forgot?
EVERYMAN.
Why askest thou? Wouldest thou wit?
DEATH.
Yea, sir, I will show you; in great haste I am sent to thee
Fro God out of his Majesty.
EVERYMAN.
What! sent to me?
DEATH.
Yea, certainly:
Though you have forgot him here,
He thinketh on thee in the heavenly sphere;
As, ere we depart, thou shalt know.
EVERYMAN.
What desireth God of me?
DEATH.
That shall I show thee;
A reckoning he will needs have
Without any lenger respite.
EVERYMAN.
To give a reckoning longer leisure I crave;
This blind matter troubleth my wit.
DEATH.
On thee thou must take a long journey,
Therefore thy book of count with thee thou bring,
For turn again thou cannot by no way:
And look thou be sure of thy reckoning;
For before God thou shalt answer and show
Thy many bad deeds, and good but a few,
How thou hast spent thy life, and in what wise,
Before the chief lord of paradise.
Have ado that[78] we were in that way,
For, wit thou well, thou shalt make none attorney.
EVERYMAN.
Full unready I am such reckoning to give:
I know thee not; what messenger art thou?
DEATH.
I am Death, that no man dreadeth;
For every man I 'rrest, and no man spareth,
For it is God's commandment
That all to me should be obedient.
EVERYMAN.
O Death, thou comest, when I had thee least in mind;
In thy power it lieth me to save;
Yet of my good will I give thee, if thou will be kind,
Yea, a thousand pounds shalt thou have,
And [thou] defer this matter till another day.
DEATH.
Everyman, it may not be by no way;
I set not by gold, silver, nor riches,
Ne by pope, emperor, king, duke, ne princes;
For, and I would receive gifts great,
All the world I might get;
But my custom is clean contrary;
I give thee no respite, come hence, and not tarry.
EVERYMAN.
Alas! shall I have no lenger respite?
I may say Death giveth no warning:
To think on thee it maketh my heart sick;
For all unready is my book of reckoning:
But, [for] twelve year and I might have abiding,
My counting-book I would make so clear,
That my reckoning I should not need to fear.
Wherefore, Death, I pray thee for God's mercy,
Spare me, till I be provided of remedy.
DEATH.
Thee availeth not to cry, weep, and pray:
But haste thee lightly, that thou wert gone this journey;
And prove thy friends, if thou can;
For, wit thou well, the tide abideth no man,
And in the world each living creature
For Adam's sin must die of nature.
EVERYMAN.
Death, if I should this pilgrimage take,
And my reckoning surely make,
Show me, for Saint Charity,
Should I not come again shortly?
DEATH.
No, Everyman, and thou be once there,
Thou mayest never more come here,
Trust me verily.
EVERYMAN.
O gracious God, in the high seat celestial,
Have mercy on me in this most need.
Shall I have no company from this vale terrestrial
Of mine acquaince,[79] that way me to lead?
DEATH.
Yea, if any be so hardy,
That would go with thee, and bear thee company:
Hie thee that thou were gone to God's magnificence,
Thy reckoning to give before his presence.
What, weenest thou thy life is given thee,
And thy worldly goods also?
EVERYMAN.
I had ween'd so verily.
DEATH.
Nay, nay; it was but lend thee;
For, as soon as thou art gone,
Another awhile shall have it, and then go therefro,
Even as thou hast done.
Everyman, thou art mad, thou hast thy wits five,
And here on earth will not amend thy life;
For suddenly I do come.
EVERYMAN.
O wretched caitiff, whither shall I flee,
That I might escape this endless sorrow!
Now, gentle Death, spare me till to-morrow,
That I may amend me
With good advisement.
DEATH.
Nay, thereto I will not consent,
Nor no man will I respite;
But to the heart suddenly I shall smite
Without any advisement.
And now out of thy sight I will me hie;
See thou make thee ready shortly,
For thou mayest say, this is the day
That no man living may 'scape away.
EVERYMAN.
Alas! I may well weep with sighs deep:
Now have I no manner of company
To help me in my journey, and me to keep;
And also my writing is full unready.
How shall I do now for to excuse me!
I would to God I had never be got;[80]
To my soul a full great profit it had be;
For now I fear pains huge and great.
The time passeth: Lord, help, that all wrought!
For though I mourn, it availeth nought:
The day passeth, and is almost ago;
I wot not well what for to do.
To whom were I best my complaint to make?
What, and I to Fellowship thereof spake,
And showed him of this sudden chance!
For in him is all mine affiance;
We have in the world so many a day
Be good friends in sport and play,
I see him yonder certainly;
I trust that he will bear me company,
Therefore to him will I speak to ease my sorrow,
Well met, good Fellowship, and good morrow.
FELLOWSHIP _speaketh_.
Everyman, good morrow, by this day:
Sir, why lookest thou so piteously?
If anything be amiss, I pray thee, me say,
That I may help to remedy.
EVERYMAN.
Yea, good Fellowship, yea;
I am in great jeopardy.
FELLOWSHIP.
My true friend, show to me your mind;
I will not forsake thee, to my life's end,
In the way of good company.
EVERYMAN.
That was well spoken and lovingly.
FELLOWSHIP.
Sir, I must needs know your heaviness;
I have pity to see you in any distress:
If any have you wronged, ye shall revenged be,
Though I on the ground be slain for thee;
Though that I know before that I should die.
EVERYMAN.
Verily, Fellowship, gramercy.
FELLOWSHIP.
Tush! by thy thanks I set not a straw;
Show me your grief, and say no more.
EVERYMAN.
If I my heart should to you break,
And then you to turn your mind fro me,
And would not me comfort, when ye hear me speak,
Then should I ten times sorrier be.
FELLOWSHIP.
Sir, I say as I will do in deed.
EVERYMAN.
Then be you a good friend at need;
I have found you true here-before.
FELLOWSHIP.
And so ye shall evermore;
For in faith, and thou go to hell,
I will not forsake thee by the way.
EVERYMAN.
Ye speak like a good friend, I believe you well;
I shall deserve it, and I may.
FELLOWSHIP.
I speak of no deserving, by this day;
For he that will say and nothing do,
Is not worthy with good company to go:
Therefore show me the grief of your mind,
As to your friend most loving and kind.
EVERYMAN.
I shall show you how it is:
Commanded I am to go a journey,
A long way, hard and dangerous;
And give a strait account without delay
Before the High Judge Adonai;[81]
Wherefore, I pray you, bear me company,
As ye have promised in this journey.
FELLOWSHIP.
That is matter indeed; promise is duty;
But, and I should take such a voyage on me,
I know it well, it should be to my pain:
Also it make[s] me afeard certain.
But let us take counsel here as well as we can,
For your words would fear a strong man.
EVERYMAN.
Why, ye said, if I had need,
Ye would me never forsake, quick ne dead,
Though it were to hell truly.
FELLOWSHIP.
So I said certainly;
But such pleasures be set aside, the sooth to say,
And also if ye took such a journey,
When should we come again?
EVERYMAN.
Nay, never again till the day of doom.
FELLOWSHIP.
In faith, then will not I come there:
Who hath you these tidings brought?
EVERYMAN.
Indeed, Death was with me here.
FELLOWSHIP.
Now, by God that all hath bought,
If Death were the messenger,
For no man that is living to-day
I will not go that loath journey,
Not for the father that begat me.
EVERYMAN.
Ye promised otherwise, pardy.
FELLOWSHIP.
I wot well I said so truly,
And yet if thou wilt eat and drink, and make good cheer,
Or haunt to women the lusty company,
I would not forsake you, while the day is clear,
Trust me verily.
EVERYMAN.
Yea, thereto ye would be ready;
To go to mirth, solace and play,
Your mind will sooner apply
Than to bear me company in my long journey.
FELLOWSHIP.
Now, in good faith, I will not that way;
But, and thou will murder, or any man kill,
In that I will help thee with a good will.
EVERYMAN.
Oh, that is a simple advice indeed:
Gentle fellows[hip,] help me in my necessity;
We have loved long, and now I need,
And now, gentle Fellowship, remember me.
FELLOWSHIP.
Whether ye have loved me or no,
By Saint John, I will not with thee go.
EVERYMAN.
Yet, I pray thee, take the labour, and do so much for me,
To bring me forward, for Saint Charity,
And comfort me, till I come without the town.
FELLOWSHIP.
Nay, and thou would give me a new gown,
I will not a foot with thee go;
But, and thou had tarried, I would not have left thee so:
And as now God speed thee in thy journey!
For from thee I will depart, as fast as I may.
EVERYMAN.
Whither away, Fellowship? will you forsake me?
FELLOWSHIP.
Yea, by my fay; to God I betake thee.
EVERYMAN.
Farewell, good Fellowship; for this my heart is sore:
Adieu for ever, I shall see thee no more.
FELLOWSHIP.
In faith, Everyman, farewell now at the end;
For you I will remember that parting is mourning.
EVERYMAN.
Alack! shall we thus depart in deed,
O Lady, help, without any more comfort,
Lo,[82] Fellowship forsaketh me in my most need:
For help in this world whither shall I resort?
Fellowship here before with me would merry make;
And now little sorrow for me doth he take.
It is said, in prosperity men friends may find,
Which in adversity be full unkind.
Now whither for succour shall I flee,
Sith that Fellowship hath forsaken me?
To my kinsmen I will truly,
Praying them to help me in my necessity;
I believe that they will do so;
For kind will creep, where it may not go.[83]
I will go say; for yonder I see them go:
Where be ye now, my friends and kinsmen [lo?]
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