tag title tag french scene tag speech prefix lefthand tag proper name tag hung word ECCLESIA A Dialogue by Ravisius Textor The INTERSPEAKERS of this speche be these: The Chyrche, The Two Bysshoppes, The iij Dyssemblars, The Foole, The Harlotte, and The Ryche Man. THE CHYRCHE: O God euerlastyng, howe vnhappilye they deale with me. By God, no man is alyve this daye more vnhappyer then I am. There was neuer so rude or so cruell a nation the which did not ryse vp to me with more reuerence then nowe the men of this worlde. But if I maye not fynde a more apter remedye, I wyll shewe my dysease vnto the shepardes. Therfor, O bysshops, God save you. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: God save the, Chyrche oure doghter. THE CHYRCHE: My myserye, and of man kynde, have causyd me to come hither. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Wherfore, doghter? THE CHYRCHE: To axe your help. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Have you any disease, the whych doth greve you? THE CHYRCHE: Ye there is, and so great that I dare scant speke it. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: If owre two help can do you anye pleasure, we wyl be lyke physicyanes. Therfore shewe vs the cause of thy sorowe. THE CHYRCHE: Bysshoppes, your shepe be loste by great multitudes. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Are they loste, O goode Lorde, what here I? THE CHYRCHE: Wolfes do devoure your flocke by great hepys. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Ah good Lorde, what is this? THE CHYRCHE: Al thynges go to losse by litil and litil. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: What then do oure Curates and our vycares? THE CHYRCHE: They do nothyng regarde the helthe of your flocke. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Do they not preache somtime the very waye of saluation, the people heryng them? THE CHYRCHE: For God sake, what thyng shuld they preache? They be al- moste al vnknowyng there letters, and starke foolys. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Vnknowyng there letters? Do you speke in sadnes, or in sporte? THE CHYRCHE: I speke in sadnes. I have seen oftentimes olde women better lernyd. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: For as moche as we have talkyd hitherto, I praye the leve out nothyng what so euer shall be thoght wordye of information. THE CHYRCHE: If I wold tel al thynges particularly, the daye wold fayle me. Therfor I wyll shewe in very fewe woordes, what thynges be of more importance. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Therfor go to, that we may gyve a remedye, so that this dys- ease may be holpen. THE CHYRCHE: Furst of al, the most parte of priestes, which shuld excell other in worde & in dede, are to be tawght there letters, as we have nowe saide. Manye can not yoyne there syllables to gither. And lesse the herers shuld knowe that fylthynesse, they leve of manye wordes with lepyng them ouer, lesse they shuld seme to fynde a doubte. And when al they have prom- ysyd the truthe, very fewe are founde which wyl not playe the harlottes more gladly then the mulletores of the courte. Manye do kepe there berdes, & the which thyng causyth great errore, there are founde which (in maner of the people in Longobardia) have there berdes dasshyd with oynt- mentes. Other some dasshed in there sylkes. And they clothe them selves so to the syght and so clenly, that they shuld seme more clener then gyrles that daunse. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Thye wordes do fere me gretly, if they be true. THE CHYRCHE: They be as true, as from the table in the chirche of Apollo. As tochyng the charge of there flocke & of there soolys, they care no lesse then they do for frogges in the fen. It is ynough so that they have sheryd ther wolle, & have shaven them evyn to the skynne. Other be dronken, and lyke madde wo- men they walowe in there pleasures daye & nyght. To speke al at once, nothyng you shall fynde of euery parte that al is corrupt and marde. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: I praye you fynysshe, if ther be anye thyng left. THE CHYRCHE: As yet, I have litil gone forworde from the havyn. You may fynde manye, which lyke merchantes, intend bying and sell- yng, and do chepe suche thynges as be solde vndre the spere. They put ther monye to vsurie. You wolde thynke them to be merchantes of Arabia. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: The matter is otherwyse then I thoght. THE CHYRCHE: Thowe haste harde nothyng. There by manye which kepe the familyes of ther nevewes, for so they are wonte to calle ther sonnes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Do you make no lye? THE CHYRCHE: I speke thynges knowen to al men & wytnessyd. They that lyve in Matrimonye can take no hede to ther wyfes for them. THE FURST BYSSHOP: Therfor you may gesse that the worshyp of Religyon is very colde amonge them. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: To be colde? Scant trulye, for it was neuer hotte. [THE FOOLE]: When they hygh them to the aulter, they seme to be hoggys at the swynstye. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: What swete melodye have they in there songe? THE FOOLE: The concorde of assys. They rum. They owle. They blee. When I here them, me thynkes that I here gruntynge swyne. THE FURST BYSSHOP: I begyn to be ashamyd of so great dishonestie. THE CHYRCHE: Al mennes heares are hotte with ther rebukes. Nothyng is more hurtful to ye stage. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Be ther manye of that il sorte? THE CHYRCHE: Almoste al to one. Therfor, except ther be founde a remedye quyckly for so great a plage, the matter is dasshid of Chris- tian pytie. The dye is caste of the savegarde of soolys. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Truly, I wepe greatly, & in this thynge I call for your helpe, the whych if you denye, I call you harde hartid, like as stones & yron. The flocke of sooles shall suffer a sore losse, if you suffer this infectyve sycknes to crepe farder. Therfor gyve your labore, lesse the Chirche shuld take anye dammage. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: If you have in a redynes howe this inroutid myschif may be pullyd vp by the route, tel on. We wyll do what we se profitable. THE CHYRCHE: Get in authorite good shepardes to your shepe, that wyl looke diligently to ther sooles, which wyl nothyng set by lucre, which wyl teache wyth worde & worke, which knowe lepre from lepre, which wyl heale rottyn sores, which wyl abyde with there flocke, & wyl take hede from al the dysseytes of wolfes. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: If anye suche can be founde, we wyl folowe thy counsell. But I fere gretly, lesse ther be seldom suche byrdes. THE CHYRCHE: I praye you marke. Here be present I knowe not what fayned wyse men, which do promyse marueloose holynes in counte- nance. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Almyghtie God, the maker of al the worlde, I praye the for the dethe of thie only begotten sonne, for thy crosse, for thy strypes, for thye crowne, for thy resurrection, turn awaye my eyes from al vanitee. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Lorde , be vnto me the tower of strenght from the face of myne enemye. Thou art my socoure. Thou art my God. Thou art my Creator. Thou art my redemer. Kepe my mothe. Preserve me from al the wayes of synne. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: I wyl praye to the in matyns. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Lorde , I pray the that my evenyng prayer may clyme vp to the. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: My God, I do desyer the. I do thruste the. Be it that I re- yoyce not, but in thy crosse. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Lorde , I wyl thynke of the, for thou haste ben my helper. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: By God, ther is great holynes of these men, or I am dysseuyd. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They pretend maruelose holynes. THE FOOLE: Take heade of false prophetis, which come to you in shepys clothes, and within they be ravenyng wolfes. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: It pytieth me of mannes myserie. No man cares for the salua- tion of sooles. THE FOOLE: He cares gretly for them. Ye truly. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: I am sorye that no man doth consydre the payne of synne. The bodye berayed with synne is more fylthier then a deed bodye. THE FOOLE: Howe goodly these men wyth there coules do dyssemble holynes. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: My brethern, I praye you by the bowelles of Charitie, let vs monysshe this people openly of there saluation. It is great fere to me, for to se so manye sooles loste by great companyes. THE FOOLE: They truste to have some vauntage. THE FURST HYPOCRITE: My welbelouyd brethern, here the worde of saluation. You welbelouyd, here the worde full of holynes. THE SECOND HYPOCRITE: Christe oure redemption wolde be borne for vs. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Before Christis passyon all sooles were loste. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Christe oure portection woldes suffer for vs. THE SECONDE [HYPOCRITE]: Al went done vnto pardicion by multitudes. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Christe for hys holynes dyd on the seruyle bodye. And by hys great goodnes he delyueryd vs from cheynes. THE FOOLE: How wel they move men to wepe, that they myght get the opynyon of holynes. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: O mortall creature, after that he toke seruyle nature. Se, se, what he sufferys whych is tochid with no spotte. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Canste thou holde of wepyng whiles thou seis thy maker diggyd with strokes to be faynt? Alas, dothe it not fall for vs to fere? THE FOOLE: Se the wepynges, and fayned criynges out of hypocrites. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: No man doth consydre his ende and yet we al dye. Oure deth comes fast apon. By litil and litil we all fall to dethe. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Alas, what wyl the creature saye which is full of so great vyce when you shall make an answere to the hygh God in the dredfull iudgement? THE FOOLE: What man wolde not so wonderfull criyng out dysseyve? O you subtyll kynde of men, they hope of some praye. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Here is euerlastynge myserie, wepynge and gnasshyng with tethe. Here is an hevye complaynte of damnyd sooles mornyng. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: What wyl you saye then, mortall man, when so many tormentes shall be seen, when suche a fyer shall gyve a lyght, when so manye wepynges shall be caste forth? THE FOOLE: I wolde ther tonge did not dyssent from ther harte, and that you so did as you speke, you fryares with coules. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: We dye. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: We seke to our ende. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Deth doth tarye for vs. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: The tyme is gone. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Deth is sure. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: The tyme doth passe awaye. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: I shall be a worme. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: I shal be rottyn flesshe. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: A grave shall hyde me. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: I shall complayne. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: I shall burne. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: I shall suffer manye strypys. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: O tearys. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: O mornynges. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: O the payne. THE FURSTE [HYPOCRITE]: Wepe, frendes. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: We shal go in to asshes. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: We shal go in to darknes. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: By God, I can neuer persuade my self but that ther is marvel- oose holynes in these wyse men. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They promyse very great holynes. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: It is not to be thoght that they dyssayve the people. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Who thinkis that so holye men wolde dysseyve? THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They condemne vyse. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They prayse vertue. THE FURST BYSSHOP: They have euermore before ther eyes the dredfull daye of Iudgment. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: The dredfull trompet of hyerome semys to sounde in to there heares. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: To make an ende once, they seme to me to be parfet in al kyndes of vertues. Therfor we shuld betake to them the charge of our shepe. They be wordye of benefycis and pre- bendes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Let vs byd them be callyd, and we wyl do them a pleasure. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: You saye wel. Ower flocke shal be more surer from the dys- seites of wolfes. THE FOOLE: Beware, bysshops, beware. They be craftie. Take hede of false prophets, which come to you in the clothes of shepe, & within they are ravenyng wolfes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: What?Ravenyng wolfes & disceitfull? Ye rather they be great louers of vertues. THE FOOLE: They speke goodly. But ther lyfe is not conformable to ther speache. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: What? They be lyke the sobre men Curians. THE FOOLE: They dissemble the sobre Curians, and they lyve ryottuslye. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They speke nothyng more then of vertue. THE FOOLE: It is a hygh thynge to speke of vertue, but to vse vertue, that is samsones arte. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They have euermore God in ther mothe. THE FOOLE: But far from ther harte. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: For what intent shuld they do this? THE FOOLE: That they myght dyssayve more craftilye. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Do they dyssayve the more redilye, when they speke so? THE FOOLE: They dyssayve, for with these wordys they promyse vnto the people faythe of holynes. There is no man which can fere ther dissaytes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: What? They do nothyng desyer, but the saluation of sooles. THE FOOLE: Yes trulye, the money of pursys. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Thou art dyssavyd. They dyspyse nothyng more then ryches. THE FOOLE: Ye truly, they desyer nothyng more. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Thou seis otherwyse. They preache pouertie. THE FOOLE: Pouertie in this tyme gettyth ryches, as truthe gettyth hatred, and familyarite gettyth despyte. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They be filthyly cled, as thou seis, & al ther bodye is wrappyd. THE FOOLE: The coule is the sete of hypocrise. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They have heyres shorter then ther forhed. THE FOOLE: Ye muste not prove holynes by shorte heyres. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They were loose hoose, and vncleane, so that they shuld be thoght to have on them sacke. THE FOOLE: Lesse they shuld be thoght suspect of vanyteis. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They be holye openly. THE FOOLE: Thou canste not tel what they do inwardly. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They love al men. They wolde wel vnto al men. THE FOOLE: Ther is no kynde of mnen which doth pyne awaye wyth more hatred, or doth kepe it longer. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They nourysshe poer men. They fede those that faste. They gyve drynke to the thrustye. And they couer the nakyd, as I thynke. THE FOOLE: They be redye to take. They be sloo to gyve. Ther be greater almesse dedys of fullers. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They kepe gravyte in ther goyng. THE FOOLE: That they may be salutyd of the goers by. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They checke al mennes synnes. THE FOOLE: I wolde God they wold se to ther one, & measure them selves with ther on fote. He shuld wante al vyse, which is redye to speke agenst an other man, says Tullye aganst saluste. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They dispyse the honores of this worlde. THE FOOLE: That is it, which they desyer moste of al. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They caste dogges awaye in lyke maner. THE FOOLE: So wolde I that they dyd caste awaye the enmyte of doggys. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They burn poetes, musicyones, and plaers of interludes. THE FOOLE: They be not made swetely. They be lyke an asse, which had rather have strawe then golde. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They be occupyed alwaye in ther cloysters and chyrches. THE FOOLE: They seke fore the keyes. THE FURST BYSSHOP: They condemne pluralyte of beneficeis, that I may speke ther worde. THE FOOLE: They that have them do not dysalowe them. They that have them not do barke to have them. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They condemne sutys or stryfys. THE FOOLE: You shal fynde wyth no men more factyones. THE FURST BYSSHOP: They be leane with fastyng. THE FOOLE: They wype ther faces, that they myght appere holye. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They rebuke scoldyng and drynkynges. THE FOOLE: Yet they vse the best wyne of al, which is nowe gone in to a prouerbe. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They be sobre. THE FOOLE: Not al, for you shal fynde many with a fatte belye, and that may al thynges, wyth a face full of carbunkelles & saffyres, wyth a nose set wyth perle, wyth red eyes, and a stomake stretchid abrode. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They dyspyse monye. THE FOOLE: But trulye they gather treasurers. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: That parauenture they shuld deale it abrode, and gyve to the power. THE FOOLE: To the power? Vnto ther nevewes in the furste lyne. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: They myngle ther wyne wyth moche water. THE FOOLE: They can not wythstande the great hete. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They have ther loynes gyrdid, and candelles burnyng in ther handys. THE FOOLE: In ther bowellys. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: What? Do you thynke them vnwordye, which shuld have the charge of sooles? THE FOOLE: Beware, lesse you betake shepe to the wolfes. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: By God, what so euer thou sayes, I can not be persuadid, but they are of a very honest lyvyng. THE FOOLE: Ther is no truste to ther forheed. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Brether, that we may do more boldly, let vs prove waroly, wether they be movyd wyth anye pleasures at al. If we se that they stande styffe in styffnes of ther holynes, we wyl be- take to them the flockes of sooles and benefyceis. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Thou spekys craftilye and merilye. Let vs send syngers furste of al, which with the swetnes of ther melodye may move them to pleasure. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Make haste you swete syngers and delyte with your swete songes the sharpnes of our wyse men. THE SYNGERS DO SYNGE. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Get you hens, you intysers, you syngng men. [THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE]: Get you hens, you noghty corruptores of maners. Get you hens in the myschefe. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: You, like the mirmaides, wyth your songe do please men. At lenght you droune them beyng a slepe. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: It is moche better to wepe. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: It were moche more profytable to bewayle your faultys. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: It is moche more profytable to be sorye with Christe that sufferys. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: They be marveloose supersticyous and frounyng. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: There is no pleasure at al, but they reprove it. THE FOOLE: They reprove wyth there tonge, wherof they be fonde in- wardlye. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Let vs sende a wenche of a fayre butye, which may intyse them to pleasure wyth hyr fayre wordes & fayre face. In this wyse we shall knowe what there myndes be. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: You saye wel, for there is no myschefe more redyer to hurt, then is a cleane woman. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Oh thou wenche, go to, come forthe. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Ther are here wrynklyd wyse men, I knowe not what they be, which do promyse in countenance a marueloose holynes. Canste thou prove wether they be paynted or craftye? THE HARLOTTE: I wyl do the thynge craftylie. God save you frounyng wyse men, with a wrynklid forhed. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: God spede, fayre wenche with glysteryng eyes. THE HARLOTTE: Whye do I beholde you sad men wyth a ferse sadnes? THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Vnconstant lyghtnes becomes softe hartes. THE HARLOTTE: Whye ys your face wete wyth tearys, and your eyes red? THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: The shorte hower makes vs to remembre dethe. THE HARLOTTE: [then? Dothe the shorte hower make vs remembre deth? What Can the dede be slower for the tearys? THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: No, but vertue is woont to be more noble then tearys, the which intysyng pleasure doth cause. THE HARLOTTE: [ynge? Do you thynke that vertue incresyth wyth tearys and wep- THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Pleasures do axe lawghter and gladnes. THE HARLOTTE: Ye truly, caste of your forhed these wrynkles, and cherysshe your face wyth glad sportys. I have a fayre face, suche as the butye of helena was. I have an eloquent tonge, wyth well spokes wordes. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Wormes shall ete this tonge. THE HARLOTTE: My eyes do shyne, as the clere shell doth burn in ye bryght see. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Also fayre helena dyd shyne with fayre eyes. And yet she was a bayte vnto the vncleane wormys. THE HARLOTTE: My fayre bodye doth passe in whytenes the prymerose. And lykwyse the snowe, which the aer doth caste. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: [owe. There slepys a serpent oftentymes vndre the smellyng shad- Rotten botchys do lurke vndre a whyte skynne. THE HARLOTTE: [runnys hony combes, that is byten apon? Doth not my pappe move you, rounde lyuke apples? That Which makes two apples, wyth the vdder hangyng done. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Fylthynesse is hyd in thy tetys. Nowe leve thy complayntes. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: For these wordes the comfortabull daye became darke. THE FOOLE: O the crafte of the hypocrites. They condemne openly that thynge that they desyer inwardlye, nother for anye other cause then that thye wolde seme dyspysors of pleasures. And by ther craftye hypocrisye they wolde hunt some thynge. THE HARLOTTE: I have noyntid these abstinent men with so great voluptuous- nes of wordes as I myght. There is no pleasure, but that they hate worser then dogges and snakes. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: If I be not dyssayvyd in my opynion, they are moste holy- est, other moste craftiest within. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Let vs go on yet, & prove there myndes wyth other provoca- tyons of the same kynde. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Let vs send some dronken man, whych maye intyse them to dronkynnes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Let vs send. Oh thou louer of wyne, the which lovys stand- yng potys and cuppys, doste you se those sage fabricyanes? THE DRONKEARDE: I se them. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Therfor go, and if it can be by anye meanes, turn them from temporanse and sobrenes. THE DRONKEARDE: What pleasure can be greter, or better to man, then to drynke thryse or iiij tymes wyne wysshyd for? Grauyte is praysid, and the wyse lyfe of Cato. And yet Cato waxyd warme oftentymes with wyne. Wynes do dryve out thruste, & they increase strenght of the They brynge redye wordes to dumme throtes. [bodye. Wynes do maynteyn lawghynges. Without wyne care & and tearys are wont to ryse amonge al the people. [thoght Nowe go wyth me to daunsyng. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Get hens, thou woman wyth a mannes courage. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Fare wel, serpent swellyng with serpentes galle. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Get hens, knaue. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Flye hens, thou moste corruptist serpent. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Wyll you marre me with dedly claye? THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Wyll you drynke my soole wyth so great poysunnes? THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Wyll you have me to go in to the waters of hell of Acheron? THE HARLOTTE: If perchanse the daunsynges do not please you, tarye wyth me. A frendly love shall gro for you in my chambre. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Ah, what says thou, harlotte infect wyth moche poysun? THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: What doth pleasure of the bodye help a man? THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: What doth luste profet man wepenyd wyth scourgys? THE HARLOTTE: What? It makys man to be fresshe of strenght. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: It mollefyeth the lymmes. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: It makys in shorte space the bodye weker then a flye. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: This nourysshith the scabbe. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: It causyth botchys to the partes of ye bodye full of matter. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: This also makes hore heyres come fast on. THE HARLOTTE: If you wyl lye with me in a softe bed, gyve tokyns, manye kyssys to my chekys. THE FURSTE HYPOCIRTE: [mannes corage? What shall thy foole kyssys help me, thou foole woman of a THE HARLOTTE: A litil kysse is sweter then al mugwort. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Kyssys do brynge forth flamys, wyth the which blacke luste is wont to burn al the bowelles with in the venys. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Kyssys do cause burnynges to the synues stretchid forth, the whych scant al the ocean see can well wasshe awaye. THE HARLOTTE: [bryght golde? Do you dyspyse this face, which is more clerer then the It shynys forth to be hatyd of the somer rosys. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Thye butye is a deed bodye compassyd wyth a fayre skynne. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: [yd ouer. Thye butye, the truthe to saye, is a rottyn skynne couer- THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Thye butye is a gyfte more swyfter then the swyfte aer. THE HARLOTTE: My forhed doth passe in smell the swetist rosys. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Thye forhed shal be rotten rotnes, and be coueryd in a graue. THE DRONKEARDE: Therfor drynke, fathers, and make merye. Nature and pleasure do axe the beste wynys. Take you furste this great bolle. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Go, dronken dronkarde. [bollys? What have I to do with wynes? What have I to do wyth THE SECONDE HYPROCRITE: [wyne? Thou dronken fellowe, wylt thou marre holye men wyth THE FOOLE: Holye men? THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Go thy waye, and carye some where elles thy red cuppys. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Wynes do take awaye the wyttes. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: They cause braulyng and chydyng. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: They gyve hornes to the vnhappye power men. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: [wynes some other where. Thou dronken man, get the out of the doers. Carye thy THE DRONKEARDE: Doth not gentil rest ryse vp by wyne? THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Whyles the inwarde marye bones are hotte with wyne, by & by luste doth burn the bowelles with flamyng fyer. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: A short lyfe is ynowgh for vs, and a litil table. [vs. And a drawght of the colde water at the well dothe suffyse THE FOOLE: Howe they refrayne from wynes, which have there face lyghtnyd with red fyrye stones. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: I fynde nothyng in them wordye of checke. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Let vs send yet a riche man decked with golde amd perle, which may offer them ryches, which if they dyspyse, they shall be thoght a suffycyent proufe of a commendable lyfe. Go to, you ryche man, come forth wyth thy ryches. Prove what men these old men full of wrynkles be. THE RYCHE MAN: Why do wyse men make fortune to be a goddesse on erthe, myghtye both in hevyn & hell, and to shewe great plenteth with bothe handes? For wythout the, nother ryches nor honores are gotten. Thou art only by whom the commen people doth marvayle at great kynges deckyd wyth golde & comly wyth perlys. The senate in crymsyn (by thye gyde) [to be a goddesse. gyves lawes to the people with great prayse, and she is thoght This doth the plentith of moche goodes on the erthe. Ryches do get euerlastyng name thorou worldes. Therfor the poetes that were laurell do hepe wyth vnnumer- Crassus and Midas. Plenteth of goodes [able prayses doth get a name euerlastynge for euer. Pouertie dyes without the name of meane people. Wherfor, you noble sage men wyth frounyng grauyte, applye vauntage to come levynge your wrynkles. Wolde you have ryches? I am ryche of ryches & of golde. I have al that the kynges palyse of the lydians hathe. And what noble rhodus hathe in the golden ryuer. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: We wyll none. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: This ryche plenteth of so great goodes doth maynteyn pleasure and ryot. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Il counselyng luste is nowrysshd wyth treasures. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Ryot is mayntenyd with moche golde. THE RYCHE MAN: Wyl you have no ryches? THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: We wyl not. THE RYCHE MAN: Wherfor? THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Gentil vertue is norysshyd wyth pouertie. THE FOOLE: These men love pouertie. Ye truly, a meruelose crafte of hypocrites. They make them to dyspyse ryches, yet they fo- lowe them wyth oer and sayle. THE RYCHE MAN: But without ryches, thy lyfe goys awaye without a name. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: By ryches men are drounyd in to the depnesse of hell. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: By pouertie hevyn is boght. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE. Penurye of goodes doth delyuer happye sooles from darke hell. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: I do not axe more tokynnes of holynes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: By God, what so euer this tryfler bablys, they be holy men. There is no pleasure but they do vpbred it. They are not moved with pleasant tunes of songes. They dyspyse the in- tysementes of harlottes. They abhorre dronkinnes. They set nothyng by ryches. I am pleasyd that they be callyd, and we wyl gyve them toe flocke of sooles and fatte beneficys. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Come hither, you wyse men. Come hither. HYPOCRITES: God save you, the moste dilygent pastores. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Bycause we knowe wel your holynes, bycause we have proved your lernyng, we wyl betake vnto you flockes of shepe and the charge of sooles vnto your fidelyte. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Ah moste reuerend fathers, God forbyd that we shuld take cures and beneficeis, as they call them. THE FOOLE: Good Lorde , why doste thou not lyghten? These men in coules wyl no benefyceys, for the foxe doth not take re- wardes. This is a sorte of men very greuous to me. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Wyl you or wyl you not, you muste nedes obey, for oure doghter the Chyrche hathe complayned greuoslye that it hath no shepardes indued wyth lernyng and holynes. Wyl you wythstande the commandmentes of your spirituall fathers? THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Ah we wyl not, you moste dilygent shepardes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Therfor take benefyceis and cures of sooles which we offer. I make the, which standes in the furste place, curate of ye chyrche of sayncte petres in Reme dyoces, of sayncte Theo- dobert in Senon, and I gyve alsos the prebente of Meldense. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Moste holye father, I thanke you. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: You the seconde, take the cure of sayncte Nicholas in Loth- aringia, of sayncte Adolphe in Aruenia and of sayncte Gan- dulph in Burgundia. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: Moste dilygent father, I thanke your holynes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: To the thyrde we gyve iiij cures and two prebentes. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: The Lorde wolde that I myght brynge my power shepe vnto the haven of saluatyon. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: But harken, you fryars wyth cooles, we wyl that you assyste your flocke. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Father, we wyl assyste for the roryng lyon goes about, and sekys whom he may deuoure. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Beware you dwel no wher, nor amonge other, then wyth your shepe. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: No where, father, for they whych forsake there flocke be damned before they dye. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Besydes, wrynge not out al the yuise from your shepe. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: We wyl not, father, for it belonges to a goode sheparde to shere his shepe, and not to swalowe them. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Go your way in peace, and keape oure doghter the chyrche with how great dyligence you can. And fede hyr shepe and preache vnto the people the waye of saluation. THE FURSTE HYPOCRITE: Se. Brethen, howe moche it avayles to counterfet holynes. THE SECONDE HYPOCRITE: We had neuer extortyd this of the bysshoppes except we had dyssemblyd to dyspyse pleasures. THE THYRDE HYPOCRITE: Let vs go nowe, and lyve merily with other hypocrites. Oure vycares wyl diligently ynough looke to oure flocke. THE CHYRCHE: Shal we neuer have reste to oure labore? Shal my shepe so be distroyed by flockes? Shall ther be anye man which wyll call ageyn to good thryfte those that do wandre abrode? Byssh- ops, wyl you neuer have pytie of my myserie? THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Trulye we have had pytie, chyrche. And we have sent to the men of knowen holynes, which shuld gfede thy flocke wyth worde and dede. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Have you sene anye men? THE CHYRCHE: None. THE FIRSTE BYSSHOP: O God, howe great losse & dammage fayned holynes doth get. THE FOOLE: Dyd I not warne you before wysely to take heade of false prophetys, which come to you in the clothes of shepe, but in- wardly they be ravenyng wolfes. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Good Lorde , what is thys? I dyd so moche truste them that they myght drawe me by the nose wether they wolde. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: What? They barkid openly. And they confessyd that they were damnyd which dyd not ayde there flocke. THE FOOLE: They speke excellently, but they be colde in worke. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: I praye the, let vs go se wher they be. THE FOOLE: Lo, here they be. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: What do they there? THE FOOLE: They are at the rybbes of a wether. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Ah you wyse men, where is the preachyng amonge your flocke, ye which you dyd promyse? THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: What? Be your shepe without a keaper? THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Wolfes do devoure lambes wyth there dammes. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Wyl you help them? THE FOOLE: They holde there tonge, for there mothes be stopped wyth bones. THE SECONDE BYSSHOP: Nowe I parceyve a man may not byleve the forhed. I marvaile no more if the chyrche be il intreatid, for the folysshe shep- ardes can not teche the people, and the lerned men wyl not. THE FURSTE BYSSHOP: Therfor, let vs conclude with the Euangeliste sayncte Mat- thue. You lookers, beware of false prophetes which come to you in the clothes of shepe, but inwardly they are ravenous wolfes.