MATER

¶ What say you my son will you fight? God it defend For what cause to war do you now pretend Will you commit to battles dangerous your life that is to me so precious. Charm that charm will, he shall not be charmed of me ¶ Oh my sweet son, I am thy mother Wilt thou kill me and thou hast none other ¶ My own sweet son I kneeling on my knee And both my hands holding up to the Desire the to cease and no battle make Call to the patience and Better ways take ¶ Son all do you fear That be present here They will not with you fight you, as you be worthy Have now the victory without tasting of your might Here is none I trow that proffereth you a blow Man woman nor child Do not set your mind To fight with the wind be not so mad nor wild ¶ There is no hope left in my breast To bring my son unto better rest He will do nothing at my request He regardeth me no more the ̄ a best I see no remedy, but Still I will pray To God, my son to guide in his way That he may have a prasperous journeying And to be save at his returning Son, God above grant this my oration That when in battle thou shalt have concertation with your enemies, other fare or never No wound in them nor in you may appear So that you neither kill nor be killed Oh my son what thing eldyth the? Mary son then it was time to fly I blame the not then, though afraid thou be A deadly wound thou mightest there soon catch One against so many, is no indyfferente match ¶ No forsooth Master, there came none in my sighed ¶ Come forth my son, your enemy is gone Be not afraid for hurt thou canst have none ¶ Son you be wife keep you warm Why should I for Ulysses do That never was kind us to He was ready in war Ever the, son, to mar Then had be all my joy Exiled cleave away ¶ why son art thou so wicked to beat thy mother ¶ Alas what a son have I That thus doth order me spitefully Cursed be the time that ever I him fed I would in my belly he had be dead ¶ He will kill me He will spill me He will brose me He will loose me He will prick me He will stick me Well sing thou threatenest to me affliction Spite of my heart have now my benediction Now christ's sweet blessing and mine Light above and beneath the body of thine And I beseech with all my devotion That thou mayste come to A men promotion He that forgive Marry Mawdalene her sin Make the highest of all thy kin ¶ No son no, but too have you hie In promotion, is my mind verily ¶ Well son I will curse you no more Except you provoke me to to soar But I marvel Why you do me move To do for Ulysses that doth not us love Well son, sing the case and mater stands so I am content all thy request to do Come hither Pretty child I will the charm From the worms wild but First do thou me thy name tell ¶ Telemachus lie down upright on the ground And stir not ones for a thousand pound ¶ The cowherd of Comertowne with his crooked spade Cause From the, the worms soon to vade And jolly Jack jumbler that juggleth with a horn Grant that thy worms soon be all to torn Good graundsyre Abraham godmother to Eve Grant that this worms no longer this child grieve All the court of conscience in cockoldst yres Tynckers and tabberets typplers taverners Tyttyfylles, tryfullers, turners and trumpers Tempters, traitors, travelers and thumpers Thryftlesse, theuyshe, thick and thereto thin the malady of this worms cause for too blynne The virtue of the tail of Isaackes cow That before Adam in paradise did low Also the joist of Moses rod In the mount of calvary that spoke with God Fancy and faciem, turning tail to tail Cause all these worms quickly to fail The bottom of the ship of No And also the leg of y e horse of Troe The piece of the tongue of Balaam's ass the chawbone of the Ox that at Christ's birth was the eye to the of the dog that went on pilgrimage with young Thobye, these worms soon may suage the butterfly of Bromemycham y to was born blind The blast of the bottle that blowed Aelous wind The buttock of the bitter bought at Buckyngame the body of the bear that with Bevis came the backster of Balockburye with her baking peel Child from thy worms I pray, may soon the he'll The tapper of tauyestocke and the tapsters pot The tothe of the tytmus, the torde of the goat In the tower of tenysballes toasted by the fire the table of Tantalus turned trim in mire y to tomb of Tom threadbare y to thrusle tyb through y to smock Make all thy worms child, to come forth at thy dock Sem Cam and Japhat and coll the myllars mare the five stones of David: that made goliath stare the wing with which seit Mychaell did fly to his mou ̄ to the counters wherewith cherubin, did cheristones count The hawk with which Issuerus kylde she wild boar Help that these worms my child, hurt the no more the maw of the morecocke that made mawd to mow when martylmas at moreton morened for the snow the spear of Spanish spylbery sprente w to spiteful spots the lights of the laverock laid at London lots the shynbon of saint Samuel shining so as the sun Grant child of the worms that soon thy pains be done Mother bryce of Oxford and great Gyb of hynxey Also mawde of thrutton and mable of chartesey And all other witches that walk in dymminges dale Clytteringe and clattering there your pots with ale Incline your ears, and hear this my petition and grant this child, of health to have fruition the blessing that Jorden to his Godson gave Light on my child and from the worms him save Now stand up little Telemachus anon I warrant the by to morrow, thy worms will be gone ¶ I pray God keep the from parell Ywys it is a proper child and in behaviour nothing wild You may see what is good education I would every man after this fashion Had their children up brought then many of them would not have be so nonghte A child is better unborn then untaught ¶ I am well pleased to your will I assent For all though that I love him but very evil It is good to set a candle before the devil Of most part of great men I swear by this fire Light is the thank but heavy is the ire Fare well son, I will go me to prepare