A. C. Cawley
I knowe your sorowe well, Eueryman.
Bycause with Knowlege ye come to me,
I wyll you comforte as well as I can.
And a precyous iewell I wyll gyue the,
Called penaunce, voyder of aduersyte;
Therwith shall your body chastysed be,
With abstynence & perseueraunce in Goddes seruyture.
Here shall you receyue that scourge of me,
Whiche is penaunce stronge that ye must endure,
To remembre thy Sauyour was scourged for the
With sharpe scourges, and suffred it pacyently;
So must thou or thou scape that paynful pylgrymage.
Knowlege, kepe hym in this vyage,
And by that tyme Good Dedes wyll be with the.
But in ony wyse be seker of mercy,
For your tyme draweth fast; and ye wyll saued be,
Aske God mercy, and he wyll graunte truely.
Whan with the scourge of penaunce man doth hym bynde,
The oyle of forgyuenes than shall he fynde.
Thanked be God for his gracyous werke!
For now I wyll my penaunce begyn.
This hath reioysed and lyghted my herte,
Though the knottes by paynful and harde, within.
Eueryman, loke your penaunce that ye fulfyll,
What payne that euer it to you be;
And Knowlege shall gyue you counseyll at wyll
How your accounte ye shall make clerely.
O eternall God / O heuenly fygure,
O way of ryghtwysnes / O goodly vysyon,
Whiche dyscended downe in a vyrgyn pure
Bycause he wolde euery man redeme,
Which Adam forfayted by his dysobedyence:
O blessyd God-heed, electe and hye deuyne,
Forgyue me my greuous offence!
Here I crye the mercy in this presence.
O ghostly treasure, O raunsomer and redemer,
Of all the worlde hope and conduyter,
Myrrour of ioye, foundatour of mercy,
Whiche enlumyneth heuen and erth therby,
Here my clamorous complaynt, though it late be,
Receyue my prayers vnworthy in this heuy lyfe!
Though I be a synner moost abhomynable,
Yet let my name be wryten in Moyses table.
O Mary, praye to the Maker of all thynge,
Me for to helpe at my endynge;
And saue me from the power of my enemy,
For Deth assayleth me strongly.
And, Lady, that I may by meane of thy prayer
Of your Sones glory to be partynere,
By the meanes of his passyon, I it craue;
I besech you helpe my soule to saue.
Knowlege, gyue me the scourge of penaunce;
My flesshe therwith shall gyue acqueyntaunce.
I wyll now begyn yf God gyue me grace.
Eueryman, God gyue you tyme and space!
Thus I bequeth you in the handes of our Sauyour;
Now may you make your rekenynge sure.
In the name of the Holy Trynyte,
My body sore punysshed shall be:
Take this, body, for the synne of the flesshe!
Also thou delytest to go gay and fresshe,
And in the way of dampnacyon thou dyd me brynge;
Therfore suffre now strokes of punysshynge.
Now of penaunce I wyll wade the water clere,
To saue me from Purgatory, that sharpe fyre.
I thanke God, now I can walke and go,
And am delyuered of my sykenesse and wo.
Therfore with Eueryman I wyll go, and not spare;
His good workes I wyll helpe hym to declare.
Now, Eueryman, be mery and glad!
Your Good Dedes cometh now; ye may not be sad.
Now is your Good Dedes hole and sounde,
Goynge vpryght vpon the grounde.
My herte is lyght, and shal be euermore;
Now wyll I smyte faster than I dyde before.
Eueryman, pylgryme, my specyall frende,
Blessyd be thou without ende!
For the is preparate the eternall glory.
Ye haue me made hole and sounde,
Therfore I wyll byde by the in euery stounde.
Welcome, my Good Dedes! Now I here thy voyce
I wepe for very swetenes of loue.
Be no more sad, but euer reioyce;
God seeth thy lyuynge in his trone aboue.
Put on this garment to thy behoue,
Whiche is wette with your teres,
Or elles before God you may it mysse,
Whan ye to your iourneys ende come shall.
Gentyll Knowlege, what do ye it call?
It is a garment of sorowe;
Fro payne it wyll you borowe.
Contrycyon it is
That getteth forgyuenes;
He pleaseth God passynge well.
Eueryman, wyll you were it for your hele?
Now blessyde be Iesu, Maryes sone,
For now haue I on true contrycyon;
And lette vs go now without taryenge.
Good Dedes, haue we clere our rekenynge?
Ye, in dede, I haue it here.
Than I trust we nede not fere.
Now, frendes, let vs not parte in twayne.
Nay, Eueryman, that wyll we not, certayne.
Yet must thou lede with the
Thre persones of grete myght.
Who sholde they be?
Dyscrecyon and Strength they hyght,
And thy Beaute may not abyde behynde.
Also ye must call to mynde
Your Fyue Wyttes as for your counseylours.
You must haue them redy at all houres.
Howe shall I gette them hyder?
You must call them all togyder,
And they wyll here you in-contynent.
My frendes, come hyder and be present,
Dyscrecyon, Strengthe, my Fyue Wyttes, and Beaute.