_Maria._ Allemyghtyfful fadyr, mercyful kynge! Receyvyth now this lytyl offrynge, ffor it is the fyrst in degré, That ȝour lytyl childe so ȝynge, Presentyth to day be my shewyng, To ȝour hyȝ magesté, Of his sympyl poverté, Be his devocion and my good wylle; Upon ȝour awtere receyve of me, ȝour sonys offrynge, as it is skylle! [Illustration: Fac Simile from the MS. of the Coventry Mysteries Mus. Brit. Coit. Vesp. D VIII. fol. 100, vᵒ (printed ed. p. 178.) _J. Netherclift fac-sim: Lithog:_] XIX. THE SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS. _Tunc respiciens senescallus vadit ad Herodem dicens_, _Senescallus._ Lord, I have walkyd be dale and hylle, And wayted, as it is ȝour wylle; The kynges iij. stelyn awey fulle stylle, Thorwe Bedleem londe. They wyl nevyr, so mot y the, Come in the lond of Galylé, ffor to se ȝour fay ceté, Ne dedys of ȝour honde. _Herodes Rex._ I ryde on my rowel ryche in my regne, Rybbys fful reed with rape xal I sende; Popetys et paphawkes I xal puttyn in peyne, With my spere prevyn, pychyn, and to-pende. The gowys with gold crownys gete thei nevyr ageyn, To seke tho sottys sondys xal I sende; Do howlott howtyn hoberd and heyn, Whan here barnys blede undyr credyl bende; Sharply I xal hem shende! The knave childeryn that be In alle Israel countré, Thei xul have blody ble, ffor on I calde unkende. It is tolde in Grw, His name xulde be Jhesu I-fownde. To have hym ȝe gon, Hewe the flesche with the bon, And gyff hym wownde! Now kene knyghtes, kythe ȝour craftys, And kyllyth knave chylderyn and castyth hem in clay; Shewyth on ȝour shulderes scheldys and schaftys, Shapyht amonge schel chowthys ashyrlyng shray; Doth rowncys rennyn with rakynge raftys, Tyl rybbys be to rent with a reed ray; Lete no barne beleve on bete baftys, Tyl a beggere blede be bestys baye Mahound that best may; I warne ȝow my knyghtes, A barn is born I plyghtys, Wolde clymbyn kynge and kyknytes, And lett my lordly lay. Knyghtys wyse, Chosyn ful chyse, Aryse! aryse! And take ȝour tolle! And every page Of ij. ȝere age, Or evyr ȝe swage, Sleythe ilke a fool. On of hem alle Was born in stalle, ffolys hym calle Kynge in crowne. With byttyr galle, He xalle down falle,— My myght in halle Xal nevyr go down. _Primus miles._ I xall sle scharlys, And qwenys with therlys, Here knave gerlys, I xal steke. fforthe wyl I spede, To don hem blede, Thow gerlys grede, We xul be wreke. _Secundus miles._ ffor swerdys sharpe, As an harpe, Quenys xul karpe, And of sorwe synge. Barnys ȝonge, They xul be stunge,— Thurwe levyr and lunge We xal hem stynge.