The Dance of St. Paul's, Bodley 686

Here begynneþ a tretis of the daunce of Poulys
otherweyes called. Makabre.

Aungelle

Hec scriptura deus pompam luxumque relegat
Inque choris nostris ducere festa monet

The authority

The authority

Doctour

O creatures ye þat be resonable
The life desiryng whiche is eternal
Ye may see doctrine here ful notable
Your lyfe to lede whiche þat is mortal
Therby to lerne in especial
Howe ye schal trace þis daunce whiche that ye see
To man and womman ylyche natural
For deth ne spareth high ne lowe degree

In this myrrour euery man may fynde
That hym behoueth to gon vpon this daunce
Who goth to forne or who schal go behynde
Al dependeth in goddes ordynaunce
Wherfor eche man lowly take his chaunce
Deth spareth not pore ne blode ryal
Eche man therfor haue þis in remembraunce
Of on matere god hath forged al

Death to the pope

Death to the pope

Dethe

Ye that be sette hieste in dignité
Of al estates in erth spiritual
And lyke as Petre han þe souereynte
Ouer þe churche moste in especial
Vppon þis daunce ye first begyn schal
As þe moste worthi lorde and gouernour
For al the worschip of your estate papal
And of al þe lordeschip to god is þe honour

The pope

Pope

First me behoueth with deth þis daunce for to lede
Whiche sate in erthe hiest in my see
The state ful perilous who so taketh hede
To occupie seynt Petres dignitee
But for al that fro deth I may not flee
Vpon his daunce with other for to trace
For whiche al honour who prudently kan see
Is litul worthe that doth so sone passe

Death to the emperor

Dethe

Sir Emperour lorde of al þe grounde
Moste souereyne prynce sormontynge noblesse
Ye moste forsake of golde your appul rounde
Scepter and swerde and al your prowesse
Behynde leue gode tresour and richesse
And with other to my daunce obeye
Agayne my myght availeth non hardinesse
Adames children al þei moste deye

The emperor

Emperoure

I not to whome I may appelle
When deth assaileth whiche doth me constreyn
Ther is no geyne to socour my quarelle
But spade and pykeis my graue to atteyne
A symple shete þer is no more to seyn
To wrappen in my body and visage
Ther vpon ful sore I may compleyn
That lordes grete haue lytul avantage

Death to the cardinal

Death to the cardinal

Dethe

Ye bene abasched it semeth and in drede
Sir Cardynal it semeth by your chere
But for al that ye folow schal in dede
With other estates þis daunce for to lere
Your grete araye ye schal leue here
Your hat of red your vesture of grete coste
Al thes thynges rekened wel y fere
In grete worschippes good avyse is loste

The cardinal

Cardynal

I haue grete cause trewly this is no faile
To ben abasshed and gretely dreden mee
Seth deth is come me sodeynly tassaile
That I schal neuer after here clothed bee
In Grys ner hermyn lyke to my degree
My hat of red leuen here in distresse
By whiche I haue lerned wel and see
How that al Ioie endeth in heuynes

Death to the empress

Dethe

Let see your hond my lady dame Empresse
Hath no disdeien with me for to daunce
Ye may a side leyn al your rychesse
Your fressch atyres deuises of plesaunce
Your soleyn cherys your straunge contynaunce
Your clothes of golde ful vnkouthly wroght
Hauyng of deth ful litul remembraunce
But now ye see wel al is come to noght

The empress

Emperice

What avayleth golde rychesse or perre
Or what availeth high blood or gentlenesse
Or what availeth freschenesse or bewte
Or what is worth high porte or strangenesse
Deth seith checke mate to al suche veynoblesse
A worldly power may me not avayle
Raunsome kynrede frenschip ne worthynes
Seth deth is come my hye estate tassaile

Death to the patriarch

Death to the patriarch

Dethe

Syr Patryarke fil sad and humble chere
Ye moot with other go vpon þis daunce with mee
Your dowble cros of golde with stones clere
Your power hool and al your dignitee
Some other schal of trowth and equytee
Possede in hast as I reherse kan
Trustith neuer þat ye schal pope bee
For foly hope deceyueth many a man

The patriarch

Patriarke.

Worldely honour grete tresour and rychesse
Hau me deceyued sothfastly in dede
My Ioyes olde ben turneth in to distresse
What vaileth it such honour to possede
High clymbyng vp a fal hath for his mede
Grete estate folke wasteth out of nombre
Who mountest hiest stondeth in moste drede
Suche hevy birthen doth hi ofte encombre

Death to the king

Dethe

Right noble kynge moste worthy of renoun
Come forth anon for al your worthynesse
That whilome had so grete possessyon
Rewmis obeying vnto your noblesse
Ye moot of nature to þis daunce you dresse
And fynally your crowne your sceptre lete
Who moste haboundeth here and grete rychesse
Schal bere with him but a sengle schete

The king

Kynge

I haue not lerned here afore to daunce
No daunce in soth of fotyng so sauage
Wherby I se clerely in substaunce
What pride is worthe force or high parage
Deth al fordoth this is his vsage
Grete and smal þat in this worlde soiourne
Who so is moste meke hath moste avantage
For we shal al to dede asschis tourne

Death to the archbishop

Death to the archbishop

Dethe

Sir Archebisschop whi do ye so withdrawe
Your loke your face as it were be disdayne
Ye most obeye to my mortel lawe
But to contrarye it were but in vayne
For day be day heth ryght wel certayn
Deth at the honde pursueth euery coste
Prest and dette moste be yolde agayn
And at on houre men counten with her oost

The archbishop

Archebuschop

Alas I wote not what parte for to flee
For drede of deth I stonde in suche distresse
Tasscape his power I kan no remedye see
But who þat knewe his constreynt & duresse
He wolde take reson to maystresse
And seyn a dieu al pompe and pride also
My peynted paleis my tresour and richesse
Thyng that behoueth moste nedes be do

Death to the constable

Dethe

Right myghti prince heth ryght wel certayn
This daunce to you is not eschewable
For more myghty þan euer was Charlemayne
Or worthi Artour of prowes ful notable
With al his knyghtes of þe rounde table
What myght þer platis ther armer or maile
Ther stronge curage ther scheltes defensable
To deth avayle when he doth hem assaile

The constable

Duke

My purpos was and myn entencion
To asseged castels and myghty forteresses
Rebelles to brynge to subiection
To seke worschip fame and grete rychesses
But I se wel þat al worldely prowesses
Deth kan abate wherof I haue dispite
To him al on sorowe and eke swetnesses
For agayn deth is founde no respite

Death to the bishop

Death to the bishop

Dethe

Com nere sir Buschop with thi miter and cros
For al your rychesses soth I [you] ensure
For al your tresour so long kept in clos
And worldes godes and godes of nature
And of your schepe þe gostely dredeful cure
With charge committed to your prelacye
For tacounte ye schal be brought to lure
No wight is sure that clymbeth on high

The bishop

Buschope.

Of thes tydynges I am no þyng glad
Whiche deth to me so sodeynly doth brynge
It maketh my face and countynaunce al sad
That for discomfort me list no þynge to synge
The worlde contrarye to me in wirkynge
Whiche al estates can so discherite
And al with alas at oure partynge
And al schal passe saue only oure meryte

Death to the baron/knight

Dethe

Erle or Baron whiche that thorowe regions
Hau sore laboured for worschip and renoun
Forgete your trumpetis and Claryons
This is no dreme ne simulacyon
Whilome youre coustome and your entencyon
Was in estat and worldely wurschip to glade
But ofte it happeth in conclusion
On man breketh that another made

The baron/knight

Erle or Baron

Ful ofte tyme y haue ben auctroysed
To high Emprises and þynges of grete fame
Of grete estates my thanke deuysed
Cherissched with princes and lordes high of name
Ne neuer on me was put to diffame
In ryal courtes whiche þat were notable
But deth vnwarly al power maketh lame
And vnder heuyne and erthe is no þyng stable

Death to the abbot

Death to the abbot

Dethe

Sir Abbot or Pryour with your grete hat
To ben abassched ye haue in maner ryght
Grete is your hed your bely rounde and fat
Ye mote come thogh ye be not light
Leuyn your lordeschip to some other wight
You eyre is of age youre state to occupie
Who that is fattest to him I haue behight
In his graue schal sonnest putrefie

The abbot

Monke.

Of thi manaces I haue no grete envye
That I schal leue al maner gouernaunce
But þat I schal as a cloistrer dye
This daunce to me is somewhat þe les greuaunce
My libertees ner my grete habundaunce
What may þei vaile in eny maner wise
Yut axe I mercy with deuoute repentaunce
Thogh to fore deth let men hem avyse

Death to the abbess

Dethe

And ye my ladye gentle dame Abbesse
With your mantel furred large and wide
Your vaile your wymple your rynge of grete richesse
And beddes softe ye mote now leyn aside
For to this [daunce] I mote be your guyde
Thogh ye be tendre and borne of gentle blode
While that ye leue your selfe prouide
For after deth no man hath no goode

The abbess

Abbesse

Alas that deth hath so for me ordeyned
That in no wise I kan hym not eschewe
Vnto this daunce of ryght I am constreyned
That here with other y moste his trace sewe
This pilgrimage to euery man is dewe
A ernest matere a matere of no Iape
Who that is redy schal neuer rewe
The hour abydyng god hath for hi schape

Døden til Iudex

Dethe

This honde of your my lorde Iustice
That hath rewled so long in lawe
Wel may men holde you war and wise
So that this drawght be wel ydrawe
Escape schal not ye wolde ye neuer so fawe
Suche dome to haue as ye haue yeue in soth
Therfor men seyn of an olde sawe
Wel is him alwey that wel doth

Iudex

Justice

Alas ne were it myn entent
Was wel dressed þogh or while errid
Now schulde I outterly be schamed and schente
For many causes that y ofte deferrid
Saue only mercy now were I mareed
Blessed therfor is euery wight
As be holy scripture may be averred
That in al tyme doth [lawe] and kepeth ryght

Death to the nobleman

Dethe

Knyght or sqwyer right fresche of your araye
That kan of daunces al the newe guyse
Thogh ye bare Armes wel horsed yesterday
With spere and schelde at your vnkouth deuyse
And toke on you ful mony a straunge emprise
Daunce with vs it wole no nother bee
Ther is no socoure in no manere wise
For no man may from dethes power flee

The nobleman

Knyght

Seth that deth holdeth me in his lase
Yet schal I speke a worde or I passe
A dieu al mirthe a dieu now al solase
A dieu my ladies whilome so feire of face
A dieu bewte that lasteth a ful smale space
Of dethis chaunge euery day is pyne
Thenk on your sowle or [that] deth manace
For al schal rote and no man wote what tyme

Death to the mayor

Dethe

Come forth sir Maire whiche had gouernaunce
Be polyce to rewle this citee
Thogh your power was notable in substaunce
To flee my daunce ye have no libertee
Estate is non nor worldely dignitee
That may ascape out of my daungers
To fynde reskewe ensamples ye may ses
Nother by rychesse nor force of officers

The mayor

Maire

What helpeth þe state the whiche I in stood
To rewle Citees or comons to gouerne
Plentee of rychesse or encrese of good
Or olde wynnynges þat cometh so yerne
Deth alle diffaceth who so luste to lerne
Me for to areste he cometh vppon me so faste
Eueriche man þerfor schuld afore discerne
Prudently to þynk vpon his laste

Death to the Canonicus Regularis

Dethe

Lat see your honde sir Chanon Regulere
Whilome ysworne in to religion
As homble soget and obedienssere
Chastelye to leue lyke your profession
But ther may be no consolacyon
A yenste my sawtes sodeyn and cruell
Excepte only for schorte conclusyon
Who so leueth in vertew moste nedes dye well

Canonicus Regularis

Chanoun Regulere.

Whi scholde I gruchche other dyssobeye
The þyng to whiche of verrey kyndely ryght
I was ordeyned and I borne to deye
As in þis worlde is euery other wight
Whiche to remembre my hert is no þyng light
Prayng to þe lorde that starfe vpon the roode
To medle mercy with his eternal myght
And saue þe sowles þat he bought with his blode

Death to the canon

Death to the canon

Dethe

Sir dene or Chanon with mony grete prebende
Ye may no lenger haue distribucyons
In grete aray your tresour to dispende
With al your richesses and possessions
For kynde hath set hir reuelacyons
Eche man some day to daunce on dethes brynke
Ye mey þer of haue no dylacyons
For he cometh when men on him leste þynke

The canon

Dene Colegyalle.

My dyuers cures my ryche personages
Alas ful lytul þei conforte
Deth vpon me hath gete his avantages
Al my rychesses kan me not disporte
Amys of grys þei mote agayne resorte
Vnto þe worlde with mony a grete prebende
For whiche as clerkes trewly kan reporte
To deye wel eche man schulde entende

Death to the monk

Death to the monk

Dethe

Thogh ye be barbid and clothed in clothis blake
Chastely receyued þe mantel and þe rynge
Ye may not þe cours of nature forsake
To daunce with other now at my komynge
In this worlde here is non abydynge
Nether of maide wedowe ne wife
As ye may see here clerkely be wrytynge
That agayn deth is non preseruatife

The monk

Woman sworne chaste

It helpeth not to stryuen agayns nature
Namely when deth begynneth tassayle
Wherfor I consel euery creature
To be redy agayns þis felle batayle
Vertew is surer þan plate oþer maile
Eke no þyng may helpe more at suche a nede
Than to provide bediligent and aquytaile
With honde of almes to loue god and drede

Death to the Carthusian

Death to the Carthusian

Dethe

Yef me your honde with chekes ded and pale
Caused of longe abstynence
Syr Chartreux and doth your chyn avale
Vnto þis daunce with humble pacience
To stryue agayne may be no recistence
Lenger to leue set not your memorye
Thogh I be lothsom outwarde in aparence
Aboue all men deth hath þe vyctorye

The Carthusian monk

Monke of þe Chartehous

Vnto þe world I was ded ago ful longe
Be my ordre and my profession
Thogh euery man be he neuer so stronge
Dredeth to deye be natural mocyon
After his flesschely inclynacyon
Plese it þe lorde my soule for to borowe
Fro fendes myght and dampnacyon
Some arne to day þat schal not be to morowe

Death to the Sergeant in lawe

Dethe

Come nere sir Sergeant schort prossesse for to make
Ye moste come plete afore the Iuge an high
Many quarels thogh ye haue here vndertake
And for lucre don folkes grete remedye
Ther schal your sotil wittes be demed folye
Yef sleught and couetise be not exiled
Be ware betyme and labour for mercy
Suche as trust moste hem selfe ar ofte begyled

The sergeant in lawe

Sergeaunt of the Lawe.

Of ryght and reson by natures lawe
I kan allegen ne make non defense
Ner by ne sleight ne statute me withdrawe
For al myn witte ner for my grete prudence
Tascape away frome his dredeful sentence
No thyng in erthe may no man preserue
Agayn his might to make resistence
God qwyte al men lyke as þey deserue

Death to Generosa

Dethe

Come forth maystras of yeres yong & grene
Whiche holde your selfe of bewte souereyn
As feire as ye was whilome pollicene
Penelope and the quene helleyn
Yet on þis daunce þei wente bothe tweyn
And so schal ye for al your straungenesse
Thogh deynows daunger hath longe lad your reyn
Vnto þis daunce ye mote your fotyng dresse

Generosa

Gentle Woman

O crewel deth þat sparest non estate
To olde and yonge þou art indifferent
To my bewte þou hast seide checke mate
To hasty is mortal Iugement
For in my youth þus was myn entent
To my seruise mony a man talured
But sche is a fole schortly in centement
That in hir feirenesse is to moche assured

Death to the astrologer

Death to the astrologer

Dethe

Come forthe mayster þat loken vp so ferre
With Instrumentes of Astronomye
To take þe grees & þe heigh of euery sterre
What may avayle al your Astrologie
Seth of Adam al the genologie
Made first of god to walke vpon þe grounde
Deth doth areste þus seith fiologye
Al schal dey for an appul rounde

The astrologer

Master of Astronomye

For alle my crafte konnyng or science
I kan fynde non prouisyon
Ner in the sterres serche out non defense
My domo seyng nor calculacyon
Saue fynally in conclusyon
For to discryue his konnyng euery del
Ther is no more by sentens of reson
Who leueth aryght most nedes deye welle

Death to the Franciscan

Death to the Franciscan

Dethe

Come forth frere to þe my honde I raght
Vpon this daunce the to conueye & lede
Whiche in prechyng haste ful ofte ytaght
How that I am moste gasteful for to drede
Al be that folke take þer of non hede
Yut is þer non so stronge and so hardy
But I dar arreste him and let for no mede
For deth at eche hour is present and redy

The Franciscan monk

Frere

What may thus be þat in this worlde no man
Heer for tabyde may haue no suretee
Streng[t]h rychesse or what so þat he kan
Of worldly wysdome al is but a vanitee
In gret estate and in lowe pouertee
Is no thyng founde that may fro deth defende
For which I sey to high and lowe degree
Wyse is the synner that doth his lyfe amende

Death to the physician

Death to the physician

Dethe

Ȝhe phisicion þat for mony loke so faste
In other mennes watres what hem ayle
Look wel to your selfe or els at the laste
I not what your medicynes or craft kan availe
For deth is komyng sodeynly tassaile
As wel leches as other þat schal ye knowe
At þe laste Iugement withoute eny fayle
Where al men schal repe as thei haue sowe

The physician

Phisician

Alas to longe and to moche in phisyque
For lucre y plyed al my besynes
Bothe in speculacyon and in practyque
To knowe and to konne al bodely sykenes
But of gostely helth I was recheles
Wherfor now may helpe nother herbe nor rote
Ne no nother medycyne saue goddes goodenes
For agayn deth is fynally no bote

Death to the merchant

Dethe

Come ryche Merchant and loke hidurwarde
Whiche passed haste þorow mony a dyuers londe
On hors on foot hauyng most rewarde
To lucre and wynnyng as I vnderstonde
But now to daunce þou must yeue me þy honde
Al þi olde labour wher is it become nowe
A dieu venglory bothe of fre and bounde
No more coueyte þan þei þat han ynowgh

The merchant

Marchaunt

By many an hille and mony a stronge vale
I haue trauelled with my marchandise
By Sexa stronge y karyed mony a bale
To sondry Ilys mo þan I kan devyse
My hert inwarde set with couetise
But al for noght deth doþ me constreyn
For whiche I sey by recorde of þe wyse
Who al embraseth he lytul schal restreyn

Death to the Artifex

Dethe

Yef hidur þy honde thou Artificer
For ther is founde no subtilitee
Bi wit of man that fro my daungere
To saue hym selfe kan haue no libertee
My stroke is sodeyn fro whiche no man may fle
Noþer by konnyng ne curyous fresche deuyses
Kynde hath ordeyned it may no nother be
Eche man mote passe when deth set his assisis

The Artifex

Artificere

Ther is no crafte serched out ne soght
Caste nor compassed by olde ne newe entayle
I see ful wel with in my nown þoght
Agayns deth whiche þat may avayle
Sche persheth schelde sche persheth plate and mayle
Agayn hir stroke konnyng nor science
When hir list mortally tassaile
Alas alas þer may be non defense

The Famulus

Sargeant of office.

Shal I so sone to dethis daunce
That wende to haue leued yeres mony mo
And sodeynly forsake al my plesaunce
Of offices and profyte þat longen þer to
Yut on þyng I consell er þat I go
In offyce late no man do outrage
For drede of god and peyne also
Eke seruice is non herytage

Death to the child

Dethe

O lytle childe þat was but late borne
Shape in this worlde to haue no plesaunce
Thou most with other þat gon here aforne
Be lad anon by fatle ordynaunce
Lerne of newe to gon vppon this daunce
Ther may non age ascape in sothe þer fro
Let euery wyght haue this in remembraunce
Who langest leueth moste schal suffre wo

The child

Childe in þe Cradelle.

A. A. A a worde I kan not speke
I am so yong I was borne yesterday
Deth is so hasty on me to be awreke
And of his stroke liste make non delay
I kam but now and nowe I go my way
Of me no mo tales schal be tolde
The wille of god no man withstond may
As sone dieth a yonge schippe as an olde

Death to the hermit

Dethe

Ye þat haue leued longe in wildernesse
And contynued longe in abstynence
Tyme is come þat ye moste you dresse
Of my daunce to haue the experience
For þer agayn is no recistence
Take now leue of thi hermytage
Wherfor eche man advertise his sentence
That his lyfe here is but a pilgremage

The hermit

Hermyte

Leue in deserte called solitary
May agayn deth haue no respite and space
At vnset houre is comyng deth not tary
But for my parte welcome be goddes grace
Thanked my lorde with humble chere and face
Of all his yeftes suche as I haue sayed
Fynially affermyng in this place
No man is ryche but he that holde him payed

The dead king

The dead king

Doctour

Ye folkes þat loketh on this portrature
Beholdyng here al dyuers statis daunce
Se what ye be and what is your nature
Mete vnto wormes not els in substaunce
And haue þis myrrour ay in remembraunce
How I lye here whilome a myghti kynge
To all estates a [t]rewe resemblans
That wormes fode is ende of our leuyng

What is mannes lyfe but a contynaunce
For as a puffe of wynde that is transitory
As may be wel perceyued by this daunce
Wherfor ye that loke on þis historye
Kepeth þe entent in your memory
And it schal stere you in godely haste
To eschewe peyne and come to glory
Wel is hym that so may do at the laste

Aungelle

Discite vos Choream cuncti qui cernitis istam
Quantum prosit honor qaudia diuicie
Tales estis enim matura morte futuri
Qualis in effigie mortua turba docet

Doctour

Mortales dominus cunctos in luce creauit
Ut capiant meritis gaudia summa poli
Felix ille quidem qui mentem Iugiter illuc
Dirigit atque vigil noxia queque cauet
Nec tamen infelix sceleris quem penitet acti
Quique suum facinus plangere sepe solet
Sed viuunt homines tanquam mors nulla sequatur
Et velut infernus fabula vana foret

Cum doceat sensus viuentes morte resolui
Atque herebi penas pagina sacra probet
Quas qui non metuit infelix prorsus & amens
Viuit et extinctus senciet ille rogum
Sic Iugiter cuncti sapientes vinere certent
Vt velut inferni sit metuenda palus.

Here endeth a tretis of the daunce of Poules
otherweyes called. Makabre.