Nachträge zu den legenden / [ed. C. Horstmann].

V. Roberd of Sicily.

Ausser den bei der Ausgabe in der "Sammlung altengl. Leg." Heil∣bronn 1878 p. 209 ff. benutzten vier Hss. dieser Legende giebt es noch drei andere: Cbr Ji IV, 9, Cbr. Caj. Coll. 174 (diese bis jetzt unbekannt) und Cbr. Ff. II, 38 fol. 93 ff.

Die erste schliesst sich in der grösseren Hälfte enger an Ms. Harl. 1701 (H.), dem sie besonders auch in der Anordnung der Verse folgt (so bei V. 171-194, bes. 191-4, doch fehlen die 2 letzten Verse des Ms. H., und 4 V. vor 171; 223 ff., 263-4); doch folgt sie 291 ff. unmittelbar Ms. Trin. Coll. 57, wie sie auch nur ein Quatrain für das Gebet an Maria hat 299-302, auch fehlen nach 362 die an dieser Stelle in H. eingeschalteten 16 Verse. Mit Ms. Harl. 525, dem sie in der Ordnung der Verse völlig fern steht, hat sie einige Lesarten gemein, die jedoch wohl auf eine ge∣meinsame

Vorlage beider zurückzuführen sind. Zu bemerken ist der Aus∣fall vieler Verspaare und selbst grösserer Abschnitte; so fehlen von dem Texte VT, der in der genannten "Sammlung a. L." zu Grunde gelegt ist, 87-88, 100 u. 102, 125-9 (fehlen auch in H.), 159-160, 177-180, 189-193, 209-212, 215-6, 231-2, 235-242, 251-260 u. 263-6 (die Folge der übrigen V. wie in H.), 309-331 (der ganze Passus von Nabugo∣donosor), 349-353 (auch die nach 364 in H. eingeschalteten 12 Verse, weil die Hs. hier Ms. Trin. folgt), 373-4, 436-440. Auch im Einzelnen zeigt diese Hs. viele Freiheiten, und Lesarten, die sich in keiner anderen Hs. finden; der Schluss 369-374 ist Zusatz.

Ms. Caj. Coll. 174, schlecht geschrieben und spät, folgt ebenfalls meist Harl. 1701, doch weisen einige Stellen auf Harl. 525 (Ha.), so 183-4, 213-214, dem auch viele einzelne Lesarten entlehnt sind, während es an an∣deren Stellen, V. 260, 261 ff., 305-8, 364 ff. dem Texte von VT näher steht. In der Anordnung der Verse folgt es meist Harl. 1701, so bei 185-215 (nur sind 185-8 u. 189-192 umgestellt, ebenso 193 u. 194), beson∣ders 209 ff. (aber 213-4 in der Fassung von Ha.), 221-4, 253 ff., 259 ff. (doch hat 260 die Fassung von VT), 308-311, 369-371, 372-5, 448 ff. Ausgelassen ist je ein Verspaar nach 264, (266), 452, 456. Freie Anordnung zeigt es V. 357 ff. Das Ms. ist oft fehlerhaft.

Während die genannten 2 Mss. sich hauptsächlich an Harl. 1701 an∣schliessen, zweigt sich Ms. Cbr. Ff. II, 38 von Harl. 525 ab, jedoch unter Zuziehung anderer Mss. und mit eigenen grösseren Zusätzen (es zählt 516 V.). Es entfernt sich daher am weitesten von der ursprünglichen Fassung. In der Anordnung der Verse folgt es ganz Harl. 525, so bei 191 ff., 207 ff. (nur sind 213-4 u. 215-6 umgesetzt, ebenso 227-8), bes. 229-234, 241-243, 309 ff. (313 ff., 321-2, 327-330 stehen an derselben Stelle wie in Ha.), 337 ff. (doch fehlen 4 V. nach 336; in den anderen Mss. folgen 337-349 erst nach der Betrachtung über Nabugodonosor), 371-372 Zus. aus Ha., 387 ff. (doch ist 393-404 freier Zus.) u. 407-416 (es fehlt, wie in Ha., das Gebet an Maria), 489 ff. (besonders 501-502); auch die 4 Schlussverse lauten wie in Ha. An einigen Stellen sind in Ha. fehlende Verspaare wieder eingesetzt, so 101-2, 127-130 fehlen in Ha. u. H., sind aus VT ergänzt), 205-6, 478-80 (= VT 194-6). Eigene Zusätze sind 103-4, 139-140, 199-204 (199 ist aus 281, 201-4 aus 249-254 vorgegriffen), 217-8, 303-8, 393-404, 469-484 (jedoch ist 478-80 nachgeholt aus VT 194-6, die in Ha. an dieser Stelle fehlten). Es fehlt ein Verspaar nach 254, 260, 295, vier Verse nach 336.

Um das Material dieser Legende abzuschliessen, lasse ich den Text dieser drei Hss. folgen; die Varianten allein mitzutheilen, würde fast den∣selben Raum erfordern.

a) Aus Ms. Cbr. Ji IV, 9.

Pryncys prowde that bene in pres, I xal you telle þat is no les. In Cysyle was a nobylle kynge, ffayre & stronge and sumdelle yenge. he had a brother in gret Rome, [ 5] Pope he was of Crystendome; he had ane oþer brothyr, of Almayne Emperour, that Sareseynys wroughte payne. The kynge hyghte kynge Roberd; Neuer mane woste hyme aferde; [ 10] he was kynge of gret honour, And clepyd he was a conquerowre; In alle thys warlde ne was hys pere, kynge ne dewke, ferre nor nere, Of chyvalrye he was the flowre: [ 15] hys broþer þerfor was made Em∣perour; hys oþer broþer goddys wykerye, Pope of Rome, as (y) seyde ere: he was clepyd pope Vrbane— he lowyd wylle god and also man. [ 20] The Emperour hyte ser Belamound, A stronger werryowre was none fownde,

Aftyr hys broþer of Cysile, Of whome we wylle speke a whyle. The kyng thoughte he hade no pere [ 25] In alle þe warde, ferre ne nere; In his thoughte he had gret pride Noo pere he had in no syde. And one þe evyne of seynt Johne Kynge Roberd come to chyrche anone, [ 30] for to here hys evyne-songe. hyme thoughte he was þere to longe: he thoughte more of werdelys honour Thane vpone Jhesu, owre sauyowre. In magnificat he herd a wers: [ 35] he mad a clerke to hym it reherse In lang(a)ge of his owene tonge— In latyne he ne wost quat þei songe. The wers was, I telle þe: Deposuit potentes de cede [ 40] Et exaltauit humiles— That is þe ende of þe wers. The clerke seyd anone ryghte: "Syr, suche is goddys myghte That he may makyne hygh lowe, [ 45] And lowe hyghe—also I trowe; he may done, withowtyn lye, Is wylle in þe twynkelyng of ane ye." The kynge seyd withoute fabylle: "This wers is ful vnestable. [ 50] what man hathe suche powere To brynge me lowe in daunger? I ame flowre of alle chyvalrye, My enemyes to dystroye; Ther is no man nor wyghte in londe [ 55] That may me ayene withstande. Thane is this a songe of nowth." So in errowre was hys thoughte. and in hys slepe a though(t) he toke (!) [59 So Ms. Harl. 525.] In hys travas, as seyth þe boke. [ 60] And whane euensonge was Idone, A kynge lyche hym owt gane goone, And alle men wyth hym gane wynde— kynge Roberd is alle owt of mynde. The newe kynge was, I þe telle, [ 65] Goddys aungelle, hys pride to felle. The aungelle in þe halle Joy made— Alle mene of hym were glad. The kyng wakyd þat lay ine chyrche. To hys mene he thoughte sorowe to wreche (!), [ 70] [70 Ms. wreche st. werche.] for he was lefte þere alone and dyrke nyghte fel hym vpone. he gane crye aftyr hys men: There was none answerd aȝene, But þe sextayne at þe ende [ 75] In to þe chyrche to hym gane wende and seyd: "quat dost þou here, fals theue and theffys fere? Thow art here with vylonye, wyth thefte and with roberye." [ 80] and he seyde: "fowle gadlynge, I ame no thefe, I am þi kynge. Opyne þe chyrche-dore anone, That I may to my paleys gone!" The sextayne thouth anone þane [ 85] That it was sum woode mane, and openyd þe chyrche-dore faste. The kynge oute rane in gret haste, as a man þat were nere wood, Tyl at hys paleys gate he stode. [ 90] And clepyd the portere gadlynge and bad hym comyne hyynge, anoone the gatys vp to doo. The portere axid, who callyd so? Roberd answerd anone: [ 95] "Thow xalt wette, or we goone. Thy lorde I am, þou xalt wylle knowe; Thow xalt ben hangyd & Idrawe— þou xalt wylle wete I ame a kynge. Opyne þe gate, fowle gadlynge!" [ 100] The portere seyde: "so mote I the, The kynge is with-Inne with his meyne; wylle I wotte withowtyne dowte þat he ne is not now þer owte." The portere come in to þe halle, [ 105] afor þe aungelle one kne gane falle and seyd: "þer is at þe ȝate a nyce fool Icomyn late and seythe he is lorde & kynge, and callythe me foole gadlynge. [ 110] lord, what wol ȝe þat I doo? Lete hym In or lete hym goo?" The aungelle seyde in haste: "Brynge hym in to me faste! for my fool I wolle hym make, [ 115] Tyl þe worde of kynge he wol for∣sake." The porter wente vnto þe yate, Roberd he clepyd, hyme in to lete. he smote þe porter, quan he come In, Tyl þe blod braste oute at hys chyne. [ 120] The porter & hys man in haste kynge Roberd in a podelle caste— One-semely was hys body thane, That it was leche noone oþer mane— And browte hym before þe aungelle∣kynge, [ 125] And seyd: "lorde, this gadlynge

Me hath smetyne withoute desert, and seyth he is our lorde apert; To me he seyth none other worde But þat he is kynge and lorde. [ 130] [128-9 u. 130-1 sind in den an∣deren Mss. umgesetzt.] That traytowre xal for hys sawe Be boþe hangyd and Idrawe." The aungelle seyd to kynge Roberde: "fool, why art þou not aferde My mene to done suche vilonye? [ 135] This gylte þou muste nedys abye. What art þou?" þane seyd þe aungelle. Quod Roberte: "þou xalt wete fulle wylle: I ame kynge & kynge wol be, with wronge þou haste my dygnyte. [ 140] The pope of Rome is my brother, The Emperour of Almayne in þe othere: They wol me wreke, I þe telle; I wot þey wolnote longe dwelle." "Thow arte my fool," seyd þe aun∣gelle, [ 145] "Thow xalt be schorne euery delle lyke a foole, a foole to be; for þou hast lorne þi degre. Thy counselour xal be þe ape, Thy (!) clothynge xal bene Ishape, [ 150] The ape xal bene þi owne fere— Of hym wytt þou may lere. Thow xalt with howndes, how it be∣falle, Ete, wythe þe in þe halle; Thow xalt etyne one þe grownde [ 155] and þi tastour xal bene ane hownd, To asaye þi mete afore the— Getyst þou here none oþer degre." he callyd a barbour hyme before, That a foole he shulde be shore [ 160] alle rownde, lyke to a frere, a hande brede aboue þe ere, and one hys crowne make a crosse. he cryed faste & mad gret noyse, and seyd þey schulde alle abye [ 165] That ded hyme suche wylonye— for euer he wende in no wyse That god cowde so dewyse To brynge hym to so lowe estate, with suche rodde stylle to be made. [ 170] To euery mane he was vndyrlynge— alas, this was a doolful þynge That þere schulde for hy(s) pride sweche hap mene (!) betyde. God put hym owt of hys lykenes [ 175] ffor his gret vnbuxumnes. hunger & threste he had gret, for he myghte noo mete ete But houndys etyne of hys dyshe, whedyr it were flesche or fysche; [ 180] he was to deth nere Ibrowth ffor hungyr, or he myte ete owte with houndys þat were in þe halle— how myte hym herder befalle? whane it myte no better be, [ 185] with þe houndys he ete plente. with þe houndys euery nyghte he laye, and ofte he cryed: welawey, That euer he was Ibore, for he was mane forlore! [ 190] The aungel axid euery day: "fool, art þou kynge? þou me saye!" Roberd seyd: "þat it xal be knowe, I ame kynge, if I be lowe."— [194 Hier hat Harl. 1701 2 Verse mehr; sonst stimmt die Ordnung der Verse überein.] The aungel thoughte he was kynge longe. [ 195] In his tyme was neuer wronge, In hys tyme was neuer stryfe Betwyne no man & hys wyfe. I trowe, it was a Joyfulle thynge In londe to haue suche a kynge. [ 200] kynge he was III ȝere & more. Roberd yede as a man forlore. sit it befelle vpone a daye a lytyl before þe monethe of maye: syr Belawmonde, þe Emperour, [ 205] sent l(ett)res of gret honore To hys broþer, of Cysile kynge, and bad hym come withowte lettynge, That they myte alle ane soome Be with her broþer, pope of Rome; [ 210] he thoughte þei were longe atwene, and bad he schulde lette for no wyne. The aungel wolcomyd þe massangere and ȝafe hym clothis of ryche were— where suche cloth was to selle, [ 215] Ne who it mad, no-man cowde telle. The messengere went with þe kynge vne-to Rome withoute lettynge. Roberd, þe fool, wyth hym wente In a ful sory garmente, [ 220] with fox tayles rownde abowte— Mene myte hym knowe in þe rowte! and ane ape rydynge in his clothynge— so fowle rood neuer kynge. alle other were of ryche araye, [ 225] But one kynge Roberde, as I yo saye. alle mene gone one hym prye, for he rod so nycelye.

The pope & þe Emperour also, and oþer lordys many moo, [ 230] wolcome þe aungel as for kynge, and Joye of his comynge. So ryal a kynge come neuer in Rome— alle mene marvaylde quan he come. The III brotheris mad com̄fort— [ 235] The aungelle was broþer of þe sorte; wel were pope & Emperour her broþer was of suche honour. fforth come styrtynge kynge Roberde, as a fool noþing aferde, [ 240] and cryed with a fulle hygh speche To his brotherne: hyme to wreche One hyme þat hathe wyth gyle his crowne and lond of Cysele. Pope, Emperour, ner noone oþer, [ 245] The fool knewe not for her broþer. a moche foole þane was he holde More thane before a M folde: for to cleyme suche a broþerhode lit was Iholde a foly dede. [ 250] Kynge Roberd gane to care Meche more þane he dede eare, whane his brotheryne hym nold knowe: "alas, he seyd, now ame I lowe!" for he hopyd be summe thynge [ 255] hys brothrene wolde haue mad hym kynge. he sey his helpe was agoo: "alas, he seyd, so I ame wo. alas, quad he, þat I was borne, for now I ame mane forlorne!" [ 260] alas, he seyde, þat he was made, "for of my lyfe I ame ful sade!" "alas, he seyd, what xal I do? hert, cleue & breste vne-too!" [264 Ms. vn too st. ontoo.] [263-4 aus H.] alas, alas, was þane his songe— [ 265] his her he taar, his handys he wronge. Euer he cryed alas, alas. Thane he thoughte one his trespas. [268 Hier fehlt der ganze Pas∣sus über Nabugodonosor (in allen an∣deren Mss.).] he cryed mercy with sory chere: God hym restoryd as he was ere. [ 270] "Now ame I wers þane euer I was and also stand in ewyl cas. whane god yaf me suche honour That I was clepyd conquerour, In euery londe in Crystendome [ 275] Of me þey spoke alle & some and seyd noo-where was my pere In alle this werde, ferre ne nere: for þat name I had pride, as þe aungel þat fro Joye dede glyde [ 280] and in þe twynkelyng of ane ey God bename her maystrye. so hathe he myn for my gylt, Now ame I lowe & neer Ipylt. It is ryghte þat I so be— [ 285] lord, one þi fool haue mercy! holy wrytthe I hadde in dyspyte: Therfor was rewyd al my delyte, Therfor ryghte is a fool I be— lorde, one þi fool haue pete! [ 290] lorde, I ame þi creature; This wo is ryghte þat I endure and wyl more, and it myte be— lorde, one þi fool haue mercy! lorde, I haue gylte þe sore: [ 295] Mercy, lorde, I wol no more; Euer thy fool, lord, I wol be— lorde, one þi fool haue pete! Blysful Mary, one-to þe I crye: as þou art ful of curtesye, [ 300] Pray to þi sone þat deyd one tre! One me, his fool, haue mercy!" [291-302 aus Ms. Trin.] And þane he gane hym-selfe stylle and thanke god with good wylle.— The pope, Emperour & kynge [ 305] ffyve wekys make þere dwellyng; whane V wekes was come & gone, To her owne lond wolde þei gone, Boþe þe Emperour & þe kynge— Ther was a fayr partyng. [ 310] The aungel come to Cysyle, he and hys mene, þat whyle. whane he come in to his halle, Tho Roberd forthe dede he calle and seyd: "fool, art þou kynge?" [ 315] "Nay, quad he, withoute lesynge." "what art þou?" seyd þe aungel. "Syr, a fool, þat wot I welle, and more and a fool, if it may be; kepe I noone oþer dignite." [ 320] The aungel in to þe chambyr wente, and aftyr Roberd sone he sent; he bad alle folke frome chambyr gone: There lefte noone but he alone. and to þe foole þat stod hym by [ 325] The aungel seyde: "þou hast mercy. Thynke, þou were lowe Ipylt, and for þi owne gylte a fool þou were to heuene kynge: Therfor þou art ane vndyrlynge. [ 330] God hath foryowe þe þi mysdede— Euere here-aftyr þou hym drede!

I ame ane aungelle of renowne, Isent to kepe þi regione; More Joye me xal befalle [ 335] In heuene amonge my ferys alle In ane owre of a daye Thane in þe erthe, I þe say, In ane C M yere, Though alle þe warde ferre or nere [ 340] were myn at my lykynge. I ame ane aungel, þou art a kynge." he passyd in twynkelynge of ane eye— No more of hyme Roberd seye. Kynge Roberd come in to þe halle, [ 345] his mene he dede forth calle: and alle werene at his wylle, as to her lorde was ryghte & skylle. he louyd god and holy chyrche and euer he plyed good dedys to werche. [ 350] he reynyd aftyr II ȝere & more and (loued) wel god & his lore. The aungel ȝaf hym warnynge Of þe tyme of hys deynge. whane tyme come to deyne soone, [ 355] he dede wryte sone anoone, loo (!) how god of meche mythe Made hym lowe, as it was ryghte. These tydyngys euery delle he wrotte to his brothrene vnder selle. [ 360] and þe tyme þat he schuld (haue) deyed, That tyme he deyd, as he seyd. and this is wretyne withoute lye at Rome, to be in memorye. Cryst þat for vs gane dye, [ 365] In hys kyndome lete vs bene hye, Eueremore to be above, Where is Joye and euer loue, and graunt vs euer for his godhed To repent of owre mysdede, [ 370] Thorugh prayr of mayd Marie That is so ful of curtesye, Comfort vs, whane we hens wende In to þat blysse þat hath none ende!

here endyth kynge Roberd of Cysyle.

b) Aus Ms. Cbr. Caj. Coll. 174.

Pryncys provde that be in prees, I schall you tell that is noo leesse. In Cesylle was a nobylle kyng, ffayr and strong and somdele yong. he had a brother at gret Rome, [ 5] Pope of alle crystyndome; a nother brother in Almayne, an emperoure that wrouȝt the sar∣ȝenys payne. The kyng was clepyd kyng Roberd; Nevyr mane wyst hyme aferde; [ 10] he was kyng of grete honoure, so that mene clepyd hyme conquer∣oure; In alle the worlde was none hys pere, kyng ne duke, far ne nere. and for he was of chevalry the floure, [ 15] hys brother was made emperoure; hys other brother goddys vycare, pope of Rome, as i say the; he lovyd bothe god & mane. The pope was clepyd Vrbane, [ 20] The emperoure was clepyd Vala∣monde— a strenger mane was neuer none fonde, Save hys brother, kyng of Cesylle, Of whome i wylle you telle a whyle. The kyng thouȝt he had no pere [ 25] In alle the wo(r)lde, far ne nere, and in hys ȝongeth(!) he had gret pride ffor he was vmpere on euery syde. at mydsomer, on seynt Jonys day, The kyng come to chyrch fulle gay, [ 30] fforto here hys evynsong. hyme thouȝt he dwellyd alle to long: he thouȝt more on werldly honoure Thane on god, oure savioure. In Mangnifigat he herd a vers: [ 35] he made a doctore hit to reherse In language of hys ovyne tounge— he ne wyst what they sounge. The vers was, I telle the: Deposuit potentes de cede [ 40] Et exultauit humiles— Thys was the vers withoutyn lesse. The doctore seyd anone ryȝt: "such power hath god almyȝt: he may hye mene make low [ 45] and lowe mene hye in a litelle throw. he may it do, without lye, In the twynkyllyng of an ye." The kyng sayde withe hert onstabylle: "alle thy song is fals & fable. [ 50] what mane hath suche power To bryng me lowe or in danger? ffor i ame floure of cheualrye; alle my enmyes i may dystroy;

Ther is no mane that lyveth on londe [ 55] That me may with strenght with∣stonde. Therfore this is a song of nouȝt." and this erroure had in hys thouȝt, and in hys thouȝt a slepe hyme toke In hys closset, as seyeth the boke. [ 60] whane evynsong was alle done, a kyng lyke to hyme cane goene, and alle mene with hyme can wende— kyng Robert left alle behynde. The new kyng, as i the telle, [ 65] was goddys angelle, hys pride to felle. The angelle in halle gret Joi made, and alle mene of hyme were glade. The kyng awoke, that lay in chyrch: hys mene he thouȝt wo to wyrch, [ 70] ffor he was lefte ther alone and darke nyȝt felle hyme one. he begane to cry one hys mene: But there was none wolde speke to hyme, But the sextene in the chyrche ende; [ 75] ffast to hyme thane cane he wynde. The sextene sayde: "what doyst thou here, Thou fals wreche & losyngere? Thow art here for some felony, holy chyrche forto dystroye." [ 80] Thane sayde Robert: "thou foule gadlyng, I ame no theyf, i ame a kyng. Opyne the dore ryȝt anone, That i may to my palysse goene!" The sextene thouȝte anone thane [ 85] þat it was some wode mane, and wolde the chyrch delyuered were— The sextene of hyme had fere; he opynnyd the dore anone in haste. The kyng begane to ryne faste, [ 90] as a mane that were nere wode. at hys ovyne palysse gate he stode and clepyd the porter gadlyng, and bad let hyme in In hastyng, anone the ȝatys to ondo. [ 95] The porter sawe he clepyd so(!). [96 Ms. sawe he st. saide ho.] and he answeryd sone anone: "Thou schalt wete, or we goone: Thy lorde i ame, that schalt þou knowe, and in prisone thou schalt lye fulle lowe [ 100] and be hangyd & to-drawe as a traytor, be the lawe! Thow schalt wele wete that i ame kyng. Opyne the gate, thou foule gadlyng!" The porter seyde: "so mot i the, [ 105] The kyng is with hys meyne. wel i wote without douȝte That the kyng is not now without." The porter come in to the halle, and on kne before the kyng cane falle [ 110] and seyd: "ther is at ȝoure gate a nyce fole icome late, he seyeth he is both lorde & kyng, and clepith me foule gadlyng. lorde, what wylle ye that i doo? [ 115] let hyme in or let hyme goo?" The angelle seyde in haste: "let hyme come in faste! ffor my fole I wylle hyme make, sith the name of a kyng he hathe take." [ 120] The porter come to the yate and hyme callyd, in to late. he smote the porter, whene he come in, That blode start out on mouth & chynne. The porter yolde hyme hys tra∣waylle [ 125] and smote hyme ayene without faylle, That nose & mouth brafte on blode. [127 u. 132 Ms. the st. that.] Thane he faryd, as he were wode. The porter and hys mene in haste Kyng Roberd in a podelle dyd caste, [ 130] Onsemely made hys body thane That he was lyke no other mane. [127 u. 132 Ms. the st. that.] and brouȝt hyme before the new kyng and seyd: "lorde, this gadlyng Me hathe smete without desert [ 135] and seyeth he is kyng apert. This traytor schulde be for hys sawe Bothe ihangyd & to-drawe, ffor he seyethe no other worde But that he is both kyng & lorde." [ 140] The angelle seyde to kyng Roberde: Thow fole, art thou not aferde My mene to do suche vilenye? That gylte thou moste nedys abye. whatt art thou?" seyde the angelle. [ 145] Robard seyde: "thou schalt wete fulle welle: I ame kyng, & kyng wylle be; withe wrong thou hast my dyngnite. The pope of Rome is my brothere, The emperoure ys an other, [ 150] he wylle me wreke, i the telle, I wote he wylle not long dwelle." "Thou art my fole, seyd the angelle,

Thou schalt be schorne euerydelle lyke a fole, a fole to be, [ 155] ffor thou haste no dyngnite. Thy councelore schalle be an ape, and oo clothyng schalle be to you schape: I schalle hyme cloth as thy brothere, Both of a sute, it schalle be none othere; [ 160] he schal be thy ovyn fere— some wit of hyme may thou lere. hovndys, how so it befalle, Schalle ete with the in the halle; Thou schalte ete on the grounde, [ 165] Thy taster schalle be an hovnde, To asay thy mete before the— loke thane where is thy dyngnite?" he set a barbore hyme beforne and bad as a fole he schulde be schorne, [ 170] alle rovnde lyke a frere, a hand brede above the ere, and one hys crovne to make a crosse. he begane to cry & make a noyse, he swore they schulde þerfore abye [ 175] alle that dyd hym that vylony, [176 Ms. hyn.] and euer he seyde that he was lorde. Therfore mene sayde that he was wode. he ne wende in no wyse That god almyȝthty cowde not de∣vyse [ 180] hyme to bryng to lower estate— and withe a drauȝt he was ckek-mate. at lower estate myȝt he not be Thene to be a fole, as semyth me. so low ȝit was neuer kyng. [ 185] alasse, that was a dolefulle thyng That he schulde for hys pride such schame among hys mene abyde. Ther was in court neyther grome ne page But of the kyng they made rage; [ 190] ffor no-mane myȝt hyme knowe: he was so dyffugyd (!) in a throwe.— [192 l. dyffigured.] God put hyme in other lyknesse ffor hys gret onbuxumnesse. hunger & thryste he had grete, [ 195] ffor he ne myȝt no mete ete But hovndys etyne of hys dysche, whethyr it were flesche or fysche; he was to deth nere brouȝt, or euer he wolde ete ouȝte [ 200] withe hovndys that weryne in the halle— harder myȝt hyme not befalle; and whene it myȝt no oþer be, he ete with houndys gret plente. with hovndys day & nyȝt he lay, [ 205] and oftene he cryed welaweye That euer he was borne ffor he was almost forlorne. The angelle hyme askyd euery day: "ffole, art thou kyng? þou me say!" [ 210] "I am a kyng, iff i be lowe; and that schalt thou fulle wele knowe." "That semyth the wele, sayde the angelle, Thou art a fole, & that is dole." The angelle was kyng, hyme thouȝt long. [ 215] In hys tyme nas neuer wrong, Tresoun, falshede, ne no gyle In alle the londe of Cysylle; off alle maner gode grete plente; a mong alle folke love and charite: [ 220] Eche mane lovyd wele other, as wele as hys owyne brother; In hys tyme was neuer stryeff Betwyxt mane & hys wyeff. Thane was that a Joyfulle thyng [ 225] In lond to have suche a kyng! kyng he was thre ȝere & more, and Roberde went as a mane forlore. so hit befelle one a daye a lytylle before the monythe of maye: [ 230] syr Valamonde, the emperoure, sent lettrys of grete honoure To hys brother, of Cesylle kyng, and prayd hyme come without lettyng, That the myȝt bothe with oone [ 235] Speke with hys. (!) brother, pope of Rome; hyme thouȝt long they were atwynne; he had hyme let for no wynne That he were in gode araye In Rome on holy-thursdaye. [ 240] The angelle welcomyd the masyn∣gerys, and gaffe theme clothys of gret pryse, ffurryd alle withe ermyne— In crystyndome are none so fyne, and alle was couchyd withe perle— [ 245] Of better may there nomane telle. off that wondryd alle the londe how that clothe was wrouȝte wythe honde; yf such a clothe were to dyȝte, alle crystyndome hit ne make myȝte. [ 250] where suche clothe was to selle Ne who hit made, cane nomane telle.

The masyngerys rydyne withe the kyng To gret Rome without lettyng. The fole Roberd also went, [ 255] clothyd in a lothly garment, withe fox taylys sowyd abouȝte— Mene myȝte hyme know in that rouȝthe! an ape & he in oo clothynge, In signe that he was an vnderlyng. [ 260] The angelle was clothyd alle in white: Neuer was seyne suche a syȝte; all was couchyd withe perle riche: Neuyr mane saw no suche; so fayr a stede as he on rode, [ 265] Nas neuer kyng that euer bestrode. so royalle a kyng come nevyr in Rome: alle mene wondyrd whene he come. hys mene were rychly dyȝthe, her richesse coude say no wyȝte; [ 270] of clothys, gyrdyllys & othere thynge Euery squyer semyd a kynge; and alle they rydene in rych aray— save kyng Roberd, i you say. alle mene on hyme cane loke, [ 275] ffor he rode lyke a coke. The pope & the emperoure also and other lordys many moo welcomyd the angelle as kyng, and made Joi of hys comyng. [ 280] These thre bretherne had gret com∣fort— The angelle was made kyng be sort; wele was the pope & the emperoure wan the had a brother of such hon∣oure. fforthe cane stert kyng Roberde, [ 285] as a fole þat was not aferde, and cryed withe eger speche On hys bretherne: to do hyme wreche To hyme that hathe withe queynt gyle hys crovne of the lond of Cesyle. [ 290] Pope ne emperoure ne no other knew not hyme for there brother, But for a pore fole he was holde More thane he was yere a thousandde folde; To clayme such a brotherhede [ 295] hit was but a folys dede. kyng Roberd begane to make care, Meche more thane he dyd yare, whane hys bretherne wolde hyme not knowe: "alasse, seyde he, now ame i lowe!" [ 300] ffor he hopyd in alle thyng hys bretherne wolde have made hyme kyng. and whane his hope was alle igoo, he cryde: "alas, now am i woo!" he seyde alas that he was borne [ 305] ffor he was a mane forlorne; he seyd alas that he was made ffor of hys sylfe he was not glade; he seyde alas that he was alyve, "sorowe, thou art to me fulle ryve." [ 310] he seyde alasse & welawoo, "hert, cleffe, & brast on-twoe!" alasse, alasse, was alle hys song, he tore hys here, hys handys he wrong, and euer he seyde alasse, alasse. [ 315] and thane he thouȝth on hys tres∣passe. he thouȝt thane of Nabegoddonaȝofore, a nobylle kyng, was hyme before; In alle this worlde was none hys pere, kyng ne duke, far ne nere; [ 320] wythe hyme was syr Olyverne, prynce of knytys, stout & sterne; Olyferne swore euermore Nabegoddonasore, and seyde there was no god in londe [ 325] But Nabegoddonaȝore, i vnderstande. Therfore Nabegoddonasore was gladde That he the name of god had, and loved Olyuerne the more. and sythene hit grevyd theme both sore: [ 330] Olyferne dyed in gret doloure, ffor he was slayne in scharp schoure; Nabegoddonaȝore lyved in desert, Ne durst he not be apert; ffyftene yere he lyved there [ 335] with rotys, grasse, & euylle fare, and alle of mosse hys clothyng was— alle come hyme be goddys grace. he cryde mercy with drewry chere: God hyme restoryd as he was ere. [ 340] "Nowe am i in such a case, and wele wers thane he was. whane god me yave suche honoure That i was clepyd conqueroure, In euery londe of crystyndome [ 345] Of me they spokyne euerychone and seyd ther was neuer my pere In alle the worlde, far ne nere: ffor that i felle in gret pride, as angellys that can fro hevyne glide [ 350] and in twynkyllyng of an Ie God benam them there mastry. so hathe he myne for my gylt, ffor now i ame fulle low pilte. It is ryȝt that i so be— [ 355] lorde, of thi fole have pete! Mercy, lorde, i wylle nomore,

lorde, i have grevyd the fulsore: holy wryȝt i had in dyspite: Therfore ys revyd me my delite, [ 360] ffor hit is ryȝt a fole i be— I ame worthy non other dygnite. Euer thi fole, lorde, wylle i be— lorde, on thy fole haue pyte! lorde, thynk, i am thi creature; [ 365] This wo is ryȝte that i endure, and welmore ȝit, & it myȝt be: lorde, withe tender hert then thynk on me! Of my kyngdome me grevith nouȝte, hit is lorne for my evylle thouȝte; [ 370] at better state kepe i neuer to be, lorde, so that thou rew on me. Blessyd Mary, of womene borne, pray for me i be not forlorne, pray to thy sone that dyed for me [ 375] On me, hys fole, to have pite! Blessyd Mary, fulle of curtsy, I pray to the tendurly That thou pray thy sone one thy kne, On me, hys wreche, to haue pite! [ 380] Pereles lady, thou gete me grace: To the i knowe alle my trespasse: Thou let me neuer lorne be, sithe he dyed for me on tre!" he seyd nomore alasse, alasse, [ 385] But thankyd god of hys grace. Thus he gane hyme sylf stylle and thankyd god with gode wylle. The pope, the emperoure, & the kyng V wekys they made there dwellyng. [ 390] and whene the fyve wekys were gone, To there ovyne lond they went anone, Both emperoure & the kyng— There was a fayr partyng. The angell come in to Cysylle, [ 395] he & hys mene, fulle wele. whane he come in to the halle, The fole he dyd forthe calle and seyde: "fole, art thou kyng?" "Nay, syr, without lesyng." [ 400] "what art thou!" seyd the angelle. "Syr, a fole, that i wote wele, and more thane a fole, and it myȝt be: I kepe non other dygnite." The angelle in to chamber went, [ 405] and after the fole anone he sent. he bad hys meyne out to gone: Ther left no mo but he alone and the fole that stode hyme by. To hyme he seyde: "thou hast mercy; [ 410] God hath foryevyne the thy trespas. knowe thy sylfe, and have grace! Thynk thou art fulle low pilte, and alle was for thy ovyne gylte; at lower degre myȝt nomane be [ 415] Thane be a fole—how thenkyth the? a fole thow were to heuyne kyng, Therfore thou art an vnderlyng. I ame an angelle of renowne, sent to kepe thy regioun. [ 420] More Joi me schalle befalle In hevyne among my ferys alle In on oure of a daye Thane in the erthe here, i the say, In a C thousand yere, [ 425] yf alle the worlde far & nere were at my lykyng. I ame an angelle & thou art a kyng." he went in twynklyng of an Ie— No more of hym there was sye. [ 430] kyng Roberd come in to the halle. hys meyne he dyd before hyme calle: and alle were at hys wylle, as to ther lorde, as it is skylle. he lovyd god & holy chyrche, [ 435] and euer thouȝt after hys wylle to wyrche. he reyned after II yere & more, and lovyd god & hys lore. The angelle yaue hyme warnyng The tyme of hys dyeng. [ 440] whene tyme came he dyed sone, he let wryte sone anone how Cryst with his gret myȝte Made hym low, as it was ryȝte. Thys story he sent euerydelle [ 445] To hys bretherne vnder hys sele. and the tyme whene he schulde dye, [447 Ms. thy st. the.] That tyme he dyed, as he cane saye. hys bretherne thane thouȝte on the fole That cryde on theme & made dole: [ 450] Thane they wyst wele hit was þer brothere— without dout hit was non othere. The pope of Rome therof cane preche, and the people þerof dyd teche, That they schulde pride forsake [ 455] and to god ryȝtfulle heme take: ffor pride wylle, & it myȝte be, surmount Crystys dygnite; and he myȝt have had hys ovene wylle, Thorow pride he wolde hyme sylfe spylle. [ 460]

This story is without lye In Rome to be kept trulye, at seynt Petur-is chirch, i hit say. and thys is truthe without nay That lowe be hyghed at goddys wylle, [ 465] and the hye lowyd, as it is skylle. Ihesus, that for us can dye, In hys kyngdome let us be hye, Euermore to be above, ffor there is euyr Joy, peas & loue. [ 470]

c) Aus Ms. Cbr. Ff. II, 38.

Pryncis þat be prowde in prese, I wyll þat (!) þat ys no lees. yn Cysyll was a nobull kynge, Fayre & stronge & some dele ȝynge. He had a brodur in grete Rome [ 5] That was pope of all Crystendome; Of Almayne hys odur brodur was Emperowre, Thorow crystendome he had honowre. The kynge was calde kynge Roberde; Neuer man in hys tyme wyste hym aferde, [ 10] He was kynge of grete valowre, And also callyd conquerowre; Nowhere in no lande was hys pere, Kynge nor dewke, ferre nor nere, And also he was of cheualrye þe flowre; [ 15] And hys odur brodur was Emperowre, Hys oon brodur in ȝorthe godys ge∣nerall vykere, Pope of Rome, as ye may here. Thys Pope was callyd pope Vrbane, For (!) hym louyd bothe god and mane; [ 20] The Emperowre was callyd Vala∣mownde: A strawnger warreowre was none fownde Aftur hys brodur, the kyng of Cysyle, Of whome y thynke to speke a whyle. The kynge thoght he had no pere [ 25] For to acownte, nodur fer nor nere; And þorow hys þoght he had a pryde, For he had no pere, he þoȝt, on no syde. And on a nyght of seynt Johne Thys kynge to þe churche come, [ 30] For to here hys euynsonge. Hys dwellynge þoȝt he þere to longe: He þoght more of worldys honowre Then of Cryste, hys saueowre. In magnificat he harde a vers: [ 35] He made a clerke to hym hyt to re∣herse In þe langage of hys owne tonge— For in latene wyste he not what þey songe. The verse was thys, as y telle the: Deposuit potentes de sede [ 40] Et exaltavit humiles— Thys was þe verse wythowten lees. The clerke seyde anon ryghte: "Syr, soche ys godys myghte That he make may hye lowe [ 45] And lowe hye, in a lytyll throwe— God may do wythowten lye Hys wylle in þe twynkelyng of an ye." The kyng seyde þan wyth þoȝt vn∣stabull: "Ye synge þys ofte, and all hys a fabull: [ 50] What man hath that powere To make me lowear & in dawngere? I am flowre of cheualrye; All myn enmyes I may dystroye; Ther leuyth no-man in no lande [ 55] That my myght may wythstande. Then ys yowre songe a songe of noght." Thys arrowre had he in hys thoght. And in hys thoght a slepe hym toke In hys closet, so seyth the boke. [ 60] When euynsonge was all done, A kynge hym lyke owte can come, And all men wyth hym can wende— And kynge Roberde lefte behynde. The newe kynge was, y yow telle, [ 65] Godys aungell, hys pryde to felle. The aungell in þe halle yoye made, And all men of hym were glade. Kynge Roberde wakenyd þat was in þe kyrke: Hys men he þoȝt woo forto wyrke [ 70] For he was lefte there allone And merke nyght felle hym vpone. He begane to crye vpon hys mene: But þere was none þat answeryd þene— But þe sexten at the ende [ 75] Of þe kyrke, & to hym can wende And seyde: "lurden, what doyst þou here? Thou art a þefe, or þefeys fere! Thou arte here sykerlye

Thys churche to robbe wyth felonye." [ 80] He seyde: "fals þefe & fowle gadlyng, Thou lyest falsely—y am þy kynge. Opyn the churche-dore anone, That y may to my pales gone!" The sexesten went well than [ 85] That he had be a wode mane, And of hym he had ferlye, And wolde delyuer the churche in hye: And openyd þe dore ryȝt sone in haste. The kyng begane to renne owte faste, [ 90] As a man that was nere wode, And at hys pales ȝate he stode And callyd þe portar: "gadlyng, be gone," And bad hym come faste & hye hym soone, "Anon the ȝates that þou vndoo." [ 95] The portar askyd, who bad soo. And he answeryd ryght soone anone: "Thou schalt wytt, or y hens gone. Thy lorde y am: þat schalt þou knowe. In pryson schalt þou lye full lowe [ 100] And bothe be hangyd & be drawe, And odur moo, as be the lawe. I schall yow teche me for to knawe, And brynge yow fro yowre lyfe-dawe. Thou schalt wyt þat y am kynge. [ 105] Do opyn þe ȝatys, þou false gadlynge!" The porter seyde: "forsothe, y telle þe, The kyng ys in þe halle wyth hys meyne; Well y wote wythowten dowte The kynge ys not þus late owte" [ 110] The porter went in-to the halle, And before the kynge can falle And seyde: "ther ys, lorde, at þe ȝate A nyce fole comyn ther to late, And seyth he ys here lorde & kynge [ 115] And callyþ me false & fowle gadlynge. Lorde, what wyll ye that y doo? Let hym yn or let hym goo?" The aungell seyde to hym in haste: "Let hym in come swythe faste! [ 120] For my fole y schall hym make." The portar came vn-to þe ȝate And calde hym swyþe yn þer-ate. And he began for to debate, He smote þe porter, when he came yn, [ 125] That þe blode braste owt at mowþe & chyne. The portar ȝalde hym hys trauayle: He smote hym agayne wythowten fayle, That mowþe & nose braste on blode. And þen he semyd almoost wode. [ 130] The porter and hys men in haste Kynge Roberde in a podell caste; Vnsemely was hys body than, That he was lyke no nodur mane. Then broȝt þey hym before þe kynge [ 135] And seyde: "lorde, thys gadlynge Me hath smetyn wythowten deserte And seyþ þat he ys owre kynge aperte; He seyde y schulde be drawe & honge. Hys owne dome ys ryght he fonge. [ 140] To me he seyde no nodur worde But þat he was bothe kynge & lorde. The traytur schulde for hys sawe Be þe lawe bothe be hangyd & drawe." The aungell seyde to kyng Roberde: [ 145] "Thou art a foole, that art not aferde My men to do soche velanye. That ylke trespas thou muste abye. What art thou?" seyde the aungell. Tho seyde Roberde: "thou schalt wyt well: [ 150] I am kynge, and kynge wyll bee; Wyth wrange þou haste my dygnyte. The pope of Rome ys my brodur, The Emperowre Valamownde ys þe todur: He wyll me a-wreke, y dar well telle, [ 155] I wot he wyll not longe dwelle." "Thou art a fole," seyde the aungell, "Thou schalt be schauyn ouyr ylke a dele Lyke a fole and a fole to bee, Thy babull schall be thy dygnyte. [ 160] Thy crowne schall be newe schorne, For thy crowne of golde ys lorne; Thy councellere schall be an ape, And in a clothyng ye schall be schape, And he schall be thyn owne fere— [ 165] Some wytt of hym ȝyt may þou lere; He schall be cladde ryght as þy brodur Of oon cloþyng—hyt schall be no nodur. Howndys, how so hyt befalle, Schall ete wyth the in the halle; [ 170] Thou schalt ete on the grownde, Thyn assayar schall be an hownde To assaye thy mete before the, For thou art a kynge of dygnyte." They broght a barbur hym beforne, [ 175] That as a fole schulde be shorne All arownde lyke a frere, And þen ouyrthwart to eydur ere,

And on þe crowne hym make a crosse. Then he began to crye & make noyse; [ 180] He sware þat þey schulde all dye That dud hym soche velanye, And euer he seyde he was þer lorde— And all men scornyd hym for þat worde, And euery man seyde þat he was wode [ 185] That prouyd wele he cowde no gode. For he wende on no kyns wyse That myghtfull god cowde deuyse Hym to brynge to lowar estate— And wyth a draght he was chek∣mate: [ 190] At lowar degre he myght not bee Then become a fole, as thynkyth me; And euery man made scornynge Of hym þat afore was a nobull kynge. Lo, how soone be goddys myght [ 195] He was lowe—& that was ryght. He was euyr so harde bestadde That mete nor drynke noone he had; But hys babull was in hys hande. [199 vgl.] The aungell before hym made hym to stande [ 200] And seyde: "fole, art þou kynge?" He seyde: "ye, wythowte lesynge, And here-aftur kynge wyll bee." The aungell seyde: "so semyth the." Honger and thurste he had full grete, [ 205] For he myght no mete ete But howndys ete of hys dysche, Whedur hyt were flesche or fysche; When þat þe howndys had etyn þer fylle, Then myȝt he ete at hys wylle. [ 210] He was to dethe nere broght For honger, or he wolde ete oght; But when hyt wolde no nodur be, He ete wyth howndys grete plente, Wyth þe howndys þat were in þe halle— [ 215] How myȝt to hym barder befalle? Bettur he were, to yow sey y, So to do þen for hunger dye. Ther was not in þe court grome ne page But þey of þe kyng made game & rage— [ 220] For no-man myght hym not knowe: He was so dysfygerde in a throwe. Wyth howndys euery nyght he laye, And ofte he cryed wellawaye That euer ȝyt þat he was borne. [ 225] Hys ryalte he had forlorne, He was to all men vndurlynge— So lowe was neuer ȝyt no kynge. Yf pryde had not bene, y vndur∣stande, A wyser kynge was neuer in lande; [ 230] Wyth hys pryde god can hym greve: God boȝt hym dere & wolde hym not leve: God made hym to knowe hys chas∣tysyng(e), To be a fole þat afore was kynge. The aungell was kyng full longe: [ 235] But in hys tyme was neuer no wrong(e), Trechery, falsehed, nor no gyle Done in þe lande of Cysyle; Of all gode þere was plente, Amonge men loue & charyte, [ 240] And in hys tyme was neuer stryfe Nodur betwene man nor wyfe, But euery man louyd well odur, Bettur loue was neuer of brodur. Then was þat a yoyfull thynge [ 245] In londe to haue soche a kynge! Kynge he was III yere & more— And Roberde as a fole ȝede þore. The aungell askyd hym euery day: "Fole, art thou kyng? þou me say!" [ 250] He seyde: "ye, þat well y knowe: My brodur schall brynge þe full lowe." "That semyþ the wele, seyde þe aungell, The crowne semyþ þe no-þyng well."

Than ser Valamownde, þe emper∣owre, [ 255] Sende lettyrs of grete honowre To hys brodur, of Cysyle þe kynge, To come to hym wythowte lettynge, That þey myght bothe in same Wende to þer brodur, þe pope of Rome, [ 260] To see hys nobull & ryall arraye In Rome on halowe-thursdaye. The aungell welcomyd þe messengerys And clad them all in cloþys of pryse, And furryd them wyth armyne— [ 265] Ther was neuer ȝyt pellere half so fyne, And all was set wyth perrye— Ther was neuer no bettur in crystyante;

Soche cloþyng, & hyt were to dyght, All crysten men hyt make ne myght; [ 270] Where soche clothys were to selle Nor who þem made, can no - man telle; On þat wondyrd all þat lande Who wroȝt þose cloþys wyth any hande. The messengerys went wyth þe kynge [ 275] To grete Rome wythowte lesynge. The fole Roberde wyth hym went, Clad in a full sympull garment, Wyth foxe tayles to renne (!) abowte— Men myght hym knowe in all þe rowte! [ 280] A babull he bare agenste hys wylle, [160-281; dieser Zusatz ist aus Ha. geflossen.] The aungels harte to fulfylle. To Rome came the aungell soone: So ryall a kyng came neuer in Rome; All men wondurde, fro whens he came— [ 285] So well hys rayment sate hym one. The aungell was clad all in whyte: Ther was neuer in ȝerthe snowe hyt lyke, And all was cowchyd wyth perlys ryche: Bettur were neuyr, nor noone þem lyche. [ 290] All was whyte, atyre & stede; The sted was feyre, where þat he yede; So feyre a stede as he on rode, Was neuer man þat euer be-strode. And so was all hys apparell dyght— [ 295] The ryches can not telle no wyght. Of clothys, gyrdyls & odur thynge Euery squyer semyd a kynge. All they rode in ryche arraye— But kyng Roberde, y dar wele saye; [ 300] For all men on hym can pyke, For he rode no nodur lyke. But ofte he made sory chere, That schulde be kyng & kyngys fere, That rode in Rome & bare an ape [ 305] And hys clothyng full euyll schape; That so be foly a fole was made, A wondur hyt were yf he were glade. The Pope & the Emperowre also And odur barons many moo [ 310] Welcomyd þe aungell as for kynge, And made yoye for hys comynge. Forþe þen came stertyng kyng Ro∣berde, As fole & man þat was not aferde, And lowde on hym he began to speke [ 315] And seyde: hys bredyrne schulde hym awreke Of hym that hath wyth queynt gyle Hys crowne & lande of Cysyle. Pope, Emperowre, nor no nodur The fole knewe not for þer brodur— [ 320] God put hym in odur lyknes For hys grete vnbuxvmnes. A mekyll fole he was holde More then þare be an C folde: To calle soche a brodurhede [ 325] Hyt was holdyn a folys dede. Tho thre bredyr made grete com∣fort— The aungell was made brodur be sorte; Wele was þe Pope & þe Emperowre That had a brodur of soche hon∣owre. [ 330] Kynge Roberde began to make care, Mekyll more þen he can are: For he trowyd of all thynge Hys bredur schulde haue made hym kynge; And when hys hope was all awaye, [ 335] He seyde allas and weleaway.— The Pope, þe Emperowre & þe kynge Fyve wekys made þey þer dwellynge. And when þe V^the weke was all done, To þer owne londys went þey home, [ 340] Bothe þe Emperowre and þe kynge— Ther was a feyre departynge. When euery-oon of odur leeve can take, The fole Robert grete sorow can make; When no brodur hym can knowe, [ 345] "Allas, he seyde, now am y lowe!" He þoght mekyll in þat case How he was lowe. he seyde allas. He þoght vpon Nabegodhonosore: A nobull kynge was he before, [ 350] In all þe worlde was not hys pere For to acownt, nodur far nor nere; Wyth hym was ser Olyverne, Prynce of knyghtys, stowte & sterne; Olyverne sware euyrmore [ 355] Be god Nabegodhonosore, For he helde no god in lande But Nabegodhonosore, y vnderstande; Nabegodhonosore was þen full gladde, When he þe name of god hadde, [ 360] And louyd Olyverne well þe more. And syþen hyt greuyd þem boþe full sore: Olyverne dyed in grete dolowre, For he was slayne in a harde schowre; Nabegodhonosore was in deserte— [ 365]

He durste not nowhere be aperte; Fyftene yere he leuyd thare Wyth rotys & grasse & euyll fare, And all of mosse hys cloþyng was: And þat came all be godys grace— [ 370] For pryde was þat euery dele, Ther-wyth lykyd hym noþyng wele. He cryed mercy wyth sory chere: And god hym restored as he was ere. "And now y am in soche a case, [ 375] Ye, & in well warse þen euer he was, When god me gave soche honowre That y was callyd conquerowre, In euery lande of Crystendome Of me þey spake boþe all & some [ 380] And seyde nowhere ys my pere In no lande, nodur farre nor nere; And þorow þat worde y felle in pryde, As the aungell þat can of heuyn glyde; And wyth þe twynklyng of an eye [ 385] God fordud all that maystrye— And so hath he done my forgylte (!). [387 l. for my gylte.] Now am y of my lande pylte. And þat ys ryght that y so bee, For, lorde, y leeuyd not on the. [ 390] I had an errowre in my harte, And þat errowre haþ made me to smarte: When y seyde in my sawe [393 Ms. for when.] That noþynge myght make me lawe, And holy wrytt dyspysed wyth-all. [ 395] And for-þy "wrech of wrechys" men me calle. And fole of all folys y am ȝyt, For he ys a fole, god wottyþ well hyt, That turneth hys wytt vnto folye: So haue y done. mercy y crye. [ 400]

Now mercy, lorde, for þy pyte! aftur my gylte geue not me, let me abye hyt in my lyve þat y haue synned wyth wyttys fyve! For hyt ys ryght, a fole that I bee— [ 405] Now, lorde, of þy fole þou haue pyte! Ryght so, how þat hyt befalle, I ete wyth þe howndys in þe halle And leue so here for euyrmore As leuyd Nabegodhonosore." [ 410] When he to Cryste þus can calle, Downe in swowne can he falle, And euyr he seyde wyth mylde mode: "I thanke the, lorde, þat ys so gode. Of my kyngdome me greuyþ noȝt, [ 415] Hyt ys for my gylt & leder þoght. Euyr thy fole, lorde, wyll y bee, Now, lorde, of þy fole þou haue pyte!" The aungell came into Cysyle, He & hys men, wythynne a whyle. [ 420] When he came into the halle, The fole he gart before hym calle, And seyde: "Fole, art þou kynge?" "Nay, ser, he seyde, wythowte les∣ynge." "What art þou?" seyde the aungell. [ 425] "Syr, a Fole, þat wote ye well, And more þen a fole, & hyt may bee— I kepe no nodur dygnyte." The aungell þen to chaumbur went And aftur the Fole anon he sente; [ 430] He bad hys men forþe of þe chaum∣bur to gone: There was lefte noone but he allone And þe fole that stode hym by. To hym he seyde: "þou haste mercye: God hath forgeuyn þe þy mysdede. [ 435] And euer here-aftur loke þou hym drede! Thynke how þou was owte pylte Of thy lande for thy mysgylte, To þe lowest state þat ys in lande: That ys a fole, y vndurstande; [ 440] A fole þou were to heuyn kynge, And þerfore þou art an vndurlynge. I am an aungell of renowne, Sente to kepe thy regyowne; More blysse me schall befalle [ 445] In heuyn amonge my ferys all, Ye, in oon owre of a day Then in erthe, y dar well saye, In an hundurd thousande yere, Thogh all þe worlde far & nere [ 450] Were all myn at my lykynge. I am an aungell, & þou art kynge." He went in þe twynklyng of an yee— No more of hym there was sye. Kyng Roberd came into þe halle. [ 455] Hys men he gart before hym calle: And all þey were at hys wylle As to þer lorde, for hyt was skylle. He loueyd God & holy kyrke, And euyr he thoght well to wyrke. [ 460] He leuyd aftur two yere & more, And loouyd god & all hys lore. The aungell gaf hym in warnynge Of the tyme of hys leuynge. When þe tyme came of hys day soone, [ 465] He made to wryte ryght anone How god be hys mekyll myght Made hym lowe, as hyt was ryght.

For he wende he myght not be Thorow godys myȝt at lowar degre, [ 470] He was made lowe in a lytyll þrowe, And þat was kyd & full well knowe: To be a fole to euery knave, More schame myght he not haue; He ete & laye wyth howndys eke; [ 475] Thogh he were prowde, hyt wolde hym meke; To all men he was scornynge. Loo, here was a dolefull thynge That he schulde so for hys pryde Soche happe among hys men be∣tyde. [ 480] Well may ye wete, hyt dyd hym gode: Hyt made hym meke þat arst was wode, Hyt made hym to knowe god all∣myght, That hym broght to heuyn lyght. Thys story he sente euery dele [ 485] To hys brodur vndur hys sele. And to þe tyme of hys laste day (!), For þat tyme he dyed, as he can saye. Hys bredur þoght wele on þe Fole That cryed to þem wyth mekyll dole: [ 490] And wyste wele þat he was þer brodur, And knewe sothely hyt was no nodur. In Cysyle knewe hyt many moo That were wyth hym, when hyt was soo. The Pope of Rome here-of can preche, [ 495] And the pepull he can teche That þer pryde þey schulde forsake And to gode vertues þey schulde þem take; And seyde, hys brodur, þat was kynge, For hys pryde was an vndurlynge. [ 500] For pryde ys ferre fro god allmyght, Hyt may not come in hys syght; For pryde wolde, yf hyt myght bee, Ouyrmownte goddys dygnyte, And all at hys owne wylle: [ 505] Thus þorow pryde may man hym spylle. Thys storye ys wythowten lye At Rome wretyn in memorye, At seynt Petur kyrke, hyt ys knawe. And that ys Crystys owne lawe [ 510] That lowe be hye at godys wylle, And hye lowe, thogh hyt be ylle. Prey we now to god in Trynyte, That ys so gode in dygnyte, That he graunt vs þat ylk blysse [ 515] That he haþ ordeyned for all hys.

Amen.