INCIPIT PHARAO.

Pharao. Peas, of payn that no man pas;
But kepe the course that I commaunde,
And take good hede of hym that has
Youre helthe alle holy in hys hande;
For kyng Pharro my fader was,
And led thys lordshyp of thys land,
I am hys hayre as age wylle has,
Ever in stede to styr or stand.
Alle Egypt is myne awne
To leede aftyr my law,

I wold my myghte were knowne
And honoryd, as hit awe.

Fulle low he shalle be thrawne
That harkyns not my sawe,

Hanged hy and drawne,

Therfor no boste ye blaw;

Bot as for kyng I commaund peasse,
To alle the people of thys empyre.
Looke no man put hym self in
Bot that wylle do as I desyre,

preasse,

And of youre wordes look that ye seasse.
Take tent to me, youre soferand syre,

That may youre comfort most increasse,
And to my lyst bowe lyfe and lyre.

Primus Miles. My Lord, if any here were,
That wold not wyrk youre wylle.

If we myghte com thaym nere,

Fulle soyn we shuld theym spylle.

Pharao. Thrughe out my kyngdom wold I

ken,

And kun hym thank that wold me telle,

If any were so waryd men

That wold my fors down felle.

Secundus Miles. My Lord, ye have a manner

of men

That make great mastres us emelle;

The Jues that won in Gersen,
Thay ar callyd chyldyr of Israel.
Thay multyplye fulle fast,
And sothly we suppose

That shalle ever last,

Oure lordshyp for to lose.

Pharao. Why, how have thay syche gawdes begun ?

disturbances

Ar thay of myght to make sych frayes?

Primus miles. Yei, Lord, fulle felle folk ther was funfound

In kyng Pharao, youre fader's, dayes.
Thay cam of Josephe, was Jacob son,
He was a prince worthy to prayse,
In sythen in ryst have thay ay ron;
laws
Thus ar thay lyke to lose youre layse,
Thay wylle confound you cleyn,
Bot if thay soner seasse.

Pharao. What, devylle, is that thay meyn
That thay so fast incresse ?

Secundus Miles. How thay incres fulle welle we ken,

As oure faders dyd understand;

Thay were bot sexty and ten

When thay fyrst cam in to thys land,

Sythen have sojerned in Gersen

1

Four hundred wynter, I dar warand;

Now ar thay nowmbred of myghty men

Moo then ccc thousand,

Wythe outen wyfe and chyld,

Or hyrdes that kepe thare fee.

Pharao. How thus myghte we be begyled? Bot shalle it not be;

Cunning

For wythe quantyse we shalle thaym quelle,

So that thay shalle not far sprede.

Primus Miles. My Lord, we have hard oure faders telle,

And clerkes that welle couthe rede,

a

Ther shuld a man walk us amelle mung

That shuld fordo us and oure dede.

Pharao. Fy on hym, to the devylle of helle,

Sych destyny wylle we not drede;"

We shalle make mydwyfes to spylle them

Where any Ebrew is borne,

And alle menkynde to kylle them,

So shalle they soyn be lorne.
And as for elder have I none awe,
Syche bondage shalle I to theym beyde,
To dyke and delf, bere and draw,
And to do alle unhonest deyde;

So shalle these laddes be holden law,
In thraldom ever thare lyfe to leyde.

Secundus Miles. Now, certes, thys was a sotelle

saw,

Thus shalle these folk no farthere sprede.
Pharao. Now help to hald theym downe,
Look I no fayntnes fynde.

Primus Miles. Alle redy, Lord, we shalle be
bowne,

In bondage thaym to bynde.

Tunc intrat Moyses cum virgâ in manu, etc. Moyses. Gret God, that alle thys warld began, And growndyd it in good degre,

Thou mayde me, Moyses, unto man,

And sythen thou savyd me from the se,
Kyng Pharao had commawndyd than,
Ther shuld no man chyld savyd be;

Agans hys wylle away I

Thus has God showed hys might for me.
Now am I set to kepe,

Under thys montayn syde,

Byschope Jettyr shepe,

To better may betyde;

A, Lord, grete is thy myght!

ht, extiReedinary

What man may of yond mervelle meyn?
Yonder I se a selcowth syght,
Syche on in warld was never seyn;
A bush I se burnand fulle bryght,
And ever elyke the leyfes ar greyn,
If it be wark of warldely wyght,
I wylle go wyt, wythoutyn weyn.
Deus. Moyses, Moyses!.

Hic properat ad rubum, et dicit ei Deus,

Moyses com not to nere,

Bot stylle in that stede thou dwelle,

And harkyn unto me here;

Take tent what I the telle.

Do of thy shoyes in fere,

Wyth mowth as I the melle,

༈ རགས་ གན་ ༩

The place thou standes in there
Forsoth, is halowd welle.

I am thy Lord, withouten lak,
To lengthe thi lyfe even as I lyst,
I am God that som tyme spake
To thyn elders, as thay wyst;
To Abraham, and Isaac,

And Jacob, I sayde shulde be blyst,
And multytude of them to make,
So that thare seyde shuld not be myst.
Bot now thys kyng, Pharao,

He hurtys my folk so fast,
If that I suffre hym so,

Thare seyde shuld soyne be past;
Bot I wylle not so do,

In me if thay wylle trast
Bondage to brynge thaym fro.
Therfor thou go in hast,

To do my message have in mynde

To hym, that me syche harme mase;

Thou speke to hym wythe wordes heynde,

So that he let my people pas

To wyldernes, that thay may weynde

To worshyp me as I wylle asse.

Agans my wylle if that thay leynd,

Ful soyn hys song shalle be, alas.

Moyses. A, Lord! pardon me, wyth thy leyf, That lynage luffes me noght,

Gladly thay wold me greyf,

If I syche bodworde broght.

Good Lord, lette som othere frast,
That has more fors the folke to fere.
Deus. Moyses, be thou nott abast,
My bydyng shalle thou boldly bere;
If thay with wrong away wold wrast,
Outt of the way I shalle the were.

Moyses. Good Lord, thay wylle. not me trast For alle the othes that I can swere;

To never sych noytes new

To folk of wykyd wylle,

Wyth outen tokyn trew,

Thay wylle not tent ther-tylle.

Deus. If that he wylle not understand

Thys tokyn trew that I shalle sent,

Afore the kyng cast down thy wand,

And it shalle turne to a serpent,
Then take the taylle agane in hand,
Boldly up look thou it hent,

And in the state thou it fand

Thou shal it turne by myne intent;

Sythen hald thy hand soyn in thy barme,
And as a lepre it shal be lyke,

And hole agane with outen harme ;
Lo, my tokyns shal be slyke.
And if he wylle not suffre then
My people for to pas in peasse,
I shalle send venyance ix or ten,
Shalle sowe fulle sore or seasse.
Bot ye Ebrewes, won in Jessen,
Shalle not be merkyd with that measse;
As long as thay my lawes wylle ken
Thare comforthe shalle ever increasse.
Moyses. A, Lord, to luf the aght us welle
That makes thi folk thus free,

I shalle unto thaym telle

As thou has told to me.

Bot to the kyng, Lord, when I com,

If he aske what is thy name,

And I stand stylle, both deyf and dom,

How shuld I skake withoutten blame?

Deus. I the thus, Ego sum qui sum,'

say

I am he that is the same;

If thou can nother muf nor mom

I shalle sheld the from shame.

Moyses. I understand fulle welle thys thyng,

I go, Lord, with alle the myght in me.

Deus. Be bold in my blyssyng,

Thi socoure shalle I be.

Moyses. A, Lord of luf, leyn me thy lare,

That I may truly talys telle;

To my freyndes now wylle I fare,

The chosyn childre of Israelle,

To telle theym comforthe of thare care,

In dawngere ther as thay dwelle.

God manteyn you evermare,

And mekylle myrthe be you emelle.

Primus Puer. A, master Moyses, dere!

Oure myrthe is alle mowrnyng;
Fulle hard halden ar we here,
As carls under the kyng.