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The Second Shepherd’s Play By: The Wakefield Master From: The Wakefield Cycle

Translated By: Elizabeth Howard

Cast of Characters First Shepherd (Coll) Gill (Mak’s wife) Second Shepherd (Gyb) Angel Third Shepherd, Coll’s servant (Daw) Mary Mak Christ-child Coll: Lord, but this weather is cold! And I don’t even have a coat. I napped so

long I’m next door to stupid. My legs are weak, my fingers are chapped. I am entangled with sorrow--storms and tempests, first from the east, then from the west. Woe to him who has no rest from one day to the next!

But we wretched shepherds that walk on the moor, we never get inside. No wonder we’re so poor. Our land lies fallow as the floor, as you know. We are hamstrung, overtaxed , robbed, and oppressed. Those gentlemen have us eating out of their hands. They rob us of our rest, curse them! These men that are bound to a lord, they waste my time, keep me from my work.

What other men say is for the best, we who do the actual work, find it contrary. Thus are workers oppressed to the point of harm all our lives. They hold us under; they bring us trouble. It would be a great wonder if we ever did well. For he may get a fancy coat or a brooch every once in awhile. Woe is him that grieves him or once again says nay! No man dare reprove him, however much he abuses his power. And no one can believe a word that he says, not even one letter. He can throw a fancy dinner party with boasts and brags—but who do you think pays for it? The men that are even greater than he is.

Then one of his servants comes by, proud as a peacock. He borrows my wagon as well as my plough. And I am supposed to be well pleased to let him take my things. But we live in pain, anger, and woe, by night and by day. He must have it if he wanted it. And if he didn’t return it?—well, I’d be better off hanged than to tell him no the next time.

It does me good, though, as I walk by myself, to complain about the state of this world. I’ll walk with my sheep, and hear about it soon enough. Sit there on a ridge, or a stone, for awhile. For I know well, if they be true men, we’ll get more company before noon.

[Gyb enters without noticing Coll.] Gyb: Bless me and Lordy lordy! Hello, what’s this? Oh, the world always goes

along in the same old way—We’ve seen that often enough. Lord, this weather is hateful: the frost so cold, and the wind so sharp it makes my eyes water—No lie. Now in dry, now in wet, Now in snow, now in rain; when my shoes freeze to my feet. It is not at all easy being a shepherd.

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But as far as I can tell, we miserable husbands suffer great woe. We have sorrow all the time. Just like Foolish Copyle, our hen, to-ing and fro-ing, cackling all the while. But she begins to croak when the cook comes along, and puts her in the soup. These married men never get their way. When they are hard pressed, they sigh their fill; God knows they are led by the nose. They say nothing either in the field or in bed until they’re allowed. For my part I have learned my lesson. Woe to him that is married, for he must have patience. But now late in our lives, it’s such a marvel to me, that my heart breaks to see such wonders. What fate decrees should be. Some men will have two wives, and some men three in store for themselves. Some are woeful that have even one.

But this much I can say: Woe is him that has many for he feels sore. But young men who are courting for the goods that you bought. Be wary of marrying, and think hard to yourself. “What if?” is a useless thought; it serves no good. Marriage has brought great and continuous mourning and grief. You may catch more sharp pains in an hour of marriage than you can savor fully no matter how long you live. For, and I’ll swear on the Bible, I have a wife of my own. She’s as sharp as a thistle, and as rough as a briar. She is bristle-browed with a sour-looking face. If she’s had one beer, she’s had a thousand. She’s as big as a whale, and has a gallon of gall. By him that died for us all, I wish I’d run till I lost her.

Coll: God look over the idiots: You stand there like a bump on a log. Gyb: The devil’s in your mouth taking his time. Have you seen Daw? Coll: Yes, he’s out in the field. I heard him huffing and puffing. Here he comes, he’s not far. Stand still. Gyb: Why? Coll: For he’s coming, I hope. Gyb: Well, he’ll lie to us both if we’re not careful. [Enter Daw] Daw: Christ’s cross bless me, and St. Nicholas, too! I have need of it, too. It’s

worse than it was. Whoever has sense, listen to me and let the world pass. It’s in bad shape, brittle as glass, and it’s slipping. The world has never been like this, with more and more mysteries. Now we’re happy, now we’re sad, and everything’s all twisted up.

Never since Noah have I seen such floods. Wind and rain and storms so bad. Some people stammered, some stood in doubt. Now God turn all to good! I say what I mean. Just think: These floods may drown us all—everything—fields and towns both. It bears us all down, and that is a wonder. We that walk in the night to watch over our sheep, we see certain sights while other men sleep. Yet I think my heart is lighter than theirs.

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Hey! I see villains peeping. Perhaps they are two spirits. I’ll give my sheep a little walk. But I have paid little attention walking on this field; I’ll regret such wool-gathering if I stub my toes.

Ah, sir, God save you, and my master, too! I would like a drink and something to eat.

Coll: Christ’s curse, you knave, you’re a lazy servant! Gyb: What? Listen to the boy rave! Wait until later; we have eaten already. Bad luck for you! Though the fool came late, he wants to dine, as if there were anything to eat. Daw: Such servants as I, that sweat and work—we eat our bread very dry, and that

displeases me. We are wet and weary while the masters sleep. And it often happens that we eat and drink too quickly. Both mother and father, after we’re run through the mire, can complain about our jobs, and repay us for the mess. But hear my promise, master: for the money that you make now, I will do the work later. Meanwhile, I will take my pleasure. For yet lay my supper never on my stomach in fields. Why should I argue? With my staff I can leap, And as they say: “Easy come, easy go.”

Coll: You were a bad boy to go a-courting when you’ve got but a little to spend. Gyb: Peace, boy, I bid you. No more jangling, or I shall quickly make you full, by the

heaven’s king! You and your tricks—Where’s our sheep, boy?—you’re wasting our time.

Daw: Sir, just this morning I left them in the corn when they rang lauds. They have

good pasture, they can’t go wrong. Coll: Lord. these nights are long. Maybe someone would give us a song before we go

after those sheep.

Gyb: That’s just what I was thinking; we need something to cheer us up. Daw: Yeah. Coll: I’ll sing the melody. Gyb: I’ll take the tenor. Daw: So the low part falls to me: Let’s see how you sing. [They sing.] Mak enters with a cloak over his tunic. Mak: Now, Lord, in all thy seven names that made both moon and stars well more than

I can count, thy will, Lord, is not clear to me. I am at odds with myself. Oh, God I wish I were in heaven, for no children weep there.

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Coll: Who’s out there singing like a frog? Mak: I wish you knew how poorly it goes for me. A man who walks on the moor,

looking for his heart’s desire. Gyb: Mak, where have you been? Tell us the news. Daw: Is he coming? Then someone take his cloak. And he takes the cloak from him. Mak: What! I’m a yeoman, I tell you, of the king; the self-same one, a messenger of a

great lord, And such. Fye on you! Go away! Out of my presence! I must have respect. Why, who do you think I am?

Coll: Mak, why do you act so superior? You do us wrong. Gyb: But, Mak, why try to appear so saintly? Daw: I think the fellow can put on an act, the devil hang him! Mak: I shall make a complaint to my lord, and get you all a beating! Coll: But Mak, is that true? Now take out that southern tooth, And go sit in a turd! Gyb: Mak, the devil in your eye! Come here and let me smack you. Daw: Mak, don’t you know me? By God, I could annoy you. Mak: God bless all you three! I thought I had seen you. You’re a fair company. Coll: Can you now behave yourself? Gyb: Peeping Tom! As late as it is what will men suppose? And you have a bad reputation of stealing sheep. Mak: I am true as steel, all men know that. But I’m feeling sick; I’ve got a fever and my

stomach doesn’t feel so good; it’s out of temper. Daw: The devil seldom lies dead by the gate. Mak: I am very sore and falling ill, even if I stand stock still. I haven’t eaten a scrap this

month and more. Coll: How’s your wife? How is she doing? Mak: She lies sprawling next to the fire! And with a house full of children. She drinks

well, too. Ill speed other good that she will do! But she eats as fast as she can. And

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every year she brings forth a baby, and some years two. But were I not more gracious and richer by far, I would be eaten out of house and home. Oh, but she’s a mean woman—if you come near her. There is no one who knows better—nor knows any worse—than I do. Now you will see what I offer, to give all in my coffer tomorrow morning to hear a private baptism mass.

Gyb: I know of none so exhausted throughout this shire as myself. I could sleep more if

I worked less Daw: I’m cold. Let’s have a fire. Coll: I am bone-weary, tired, and been run through the mire. Wake up, you! Gyb: No, I will lie down right here, for I must get some sleep. Daw: As good a man’s son was I as any of you. But Mak, come here! You can lie down

between us. [Mak lies down with the Shepherds.] Mak: But then I might hinder you from whispering. From my top to my toe, into thy

hands I commend my spirit to you, O Pontius Pilate; Christ’s Cross protect me! {Manus tuas commendo, poncio pilato, Cryst crosse me spede!}

Then, when the shepherds are asleep, he gets up and says: Now it’s time for a man who is lacking what he needs to stalk privately into a fold.

And nimbly then to work, but not be too bold, for he might pay the price, if it were told at the end. Now it’s time to hasten; but a poor man who would get rich, needs good advice.

Now, around you a circle, as round as the moon, I can do what I will, until it is noon,

You will lie still as stones Until I am done.

And now for the charm itself: “Over your heads my hands I lift high. Out go your eyes! Destroy your sight!” OK. It’s time to go.

Lord, but they do sleep hard! So you all can hear me: I never was a shepherd, but now I will learn. If the flock gets scared, I’ll just keep them near. Look, here they come. Now my sorrow changes to cheer. A fat sheep, dare I eat it, an excellent fleece, dare I take it. Ah, but this one I will borrow. I’ll pay it back someday.

[Mak goes home to his wife.] Hello, Gill, are you in there? Get us some light. Gill: Who makes such a din at this time of night? I am all set to spin; I fear I won’t

make a penny, if I have to keep getting up! Curse them all! Ah well, so fares a

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housewife that’s constantly bothered: I don’t even have time to do these small chores.

Mak: Good wife, open the door! Can’t you see what I’m bringing? Gill: I may let you open the latch. Oh, won’t you come in, my darling! Mak: Oh, you don’t even care about how long I’ve been standing here Gill: You are likely to hang by your naked neck. Mak: Out of the way: I’m worthy of my meat, for in dire straights I can get more than

those who sweat and labor all the live-long day. It turned out like this, Gill, I had such grace.

Gill: It’d be a bad thing to be hung for a sheep. Mak: I have escaped, Gill, from even tighter corners than this one. Gill: But as long as the pot goes to the water, men say, in the end it comes home broken. Mak: I do not wish to discuss it. Come and help me fasten this. I wish he were skinned;

I’d like to eat him. This whole year I haven’t eaten the meat of one measly sheep. Gill: If they come here before he is slain, and hear him bleat— Mak: Then I’ll be taken. That would make me sweat! Go fasten the gate. Gill: Yes, Mak. They might come at your back— Mak: It’ll be hard, they’re so many. It’ll be the devil to pay. Gill: I’ve thought of a good trick, since you can’t think of any. We shall hide him here

in my cradle until they’re gone. Leave me alone, and I will lie beside him in childbed, and groan.

Mak: Get ready, then, and I will say you had a boy child this evening. Gill: I was born under a lucky star. This is an excellent disguise and a good trick. Yet a

woman always helps in the end. You’d better get back to the shepherds. Quickly, go!

Mak: I’d better get there before they wake up, or an ill wind will blow! I’ll go sleep now. [Mak returns to the shepherd and lies down.] They are still asleep, and I will go walk about as if it were not me that carried off their sheep.

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Coll: He rose again from the dead! {Resurrex a mortruis!} Feel my hand. Judas body of God! {Iudas carnas dominus!} I cannot stand: My foot’s asleep, by Jesus, and I stagger from hunger. I thought that we had lain down closer to England.

Gyb: Oh yes, Lord, have I slept well. I’m as fresh as an eel. I feel as light as a leaf on a tree. Daw: A blessing on us all. Oh, my heart quakes, it’s jumping out of my throat, I’m so

scared. Who makes all this noise? Look, my hands are shaking. Hey! Wake up! We were four—Have you seen Mak anywhere?

Coll: We were up before you. Gyb: Man, I swear to God, that he went nowhere. Daw: I thought he was wearing a wolf skin. Coll: So are many covered now namely within. Gyb: I thought he might try to trap a fat sheep while we were napping, but he made no noise. Daw: Be quiet. Your dream makes you crazy: You must be imagining things. Coll: Now, now, God turns all to good, if it be His will. Gyb: Wake up, Mak, for shame! You’re sleeping a long time. Mak: Now Christ’s Holy Name be among us! What’s this? By Saint James, things do

not look bright! I think I’m the same man. But oh, my neck got twisted all wrong. Many thanks since yesterday night. Now, by Saint Stephen, I had such a horrible dream, my heart jumped right out of my skin. I thought Gill began to croak and was going into labor right at the first cock crow. It was a young lad to round out our little flock. Oh, God, I’ll never be happy again; I have more linen on my distaff than I could spin in a lifetime. Oh, my head! A house full of children. The devil knock out their brains! Woe is he with many children and not enough bread. I must go home to Gill, if it’s all right with you. There’s nothing up my sleeve, go ahead and look. I didn’t steal a thing: I am loathe to grieve you, or to take anything from you.

Daw: Go away, and bad luck to you. Now I wish we had checked this morning that we

had all our sheep. Coll: I’ll go on ahead. Where shall we meet up? Gyb: I don’t know.

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Daw: At the crooked thorn. [The shepherds leave. Mak knocks at his door.] Mak: Open up this door! Is anybody home? How long do I have to stand here? Gill: Who makes such a noise? Go jump in the lake! Mak: Ah, Gill, what cheer? It is I, Mak, your husband. Gill: Then we might be here. The devil and all his band. Listen, he comes making such

a noise, as if he were being throttled. You don’t let me sit at my work but a little while.

Mak: Will you listen to the noise she makes to make up an excuse? And all the while

does nothing but find fault and scratch her toes. Gill: Why, who’s miserable, who stays awake? Who comes, who goes? Who brews, who

bakes? What makes me so hoarse? And then, it’s pitiful to see: Now in the heat, now in the cold, full of woe is the household that hasn’t a woman. What agreement have you made with the shepherds, Mak?

Mak: The last word they said when I turned my back, was that they would look to see

that they had all their sheep. They will not be happy when they find a sheep missing, I’ll wager. But however the game goes, they will suspect me. And make a big deal, and accuse me of it. But you must do as you said.

Gill: Of course. I will swaddle him right in my cradle. If there is a better trick I don’t

know what it is. I will lie down right away. Come help me. Mak: OK. Gill: Get behind! Here comes Coll and them. They will bite us hard. Mak: And I might cry “Alas” if they find that sheep. Gill: Listen for their call; they will be here soon. Come and make everything ready and

sing by your baby. You will sing a lullaby, for I must groan and cry out for help from Mary and John, for the pain. Sing a lullaby when you hear them come, and if I trick you, then trust me no further.

[At the crooked thorn.] Daw: Hello Coll, Good morning. Didn’t you get any sleep? Coll: Alas that I was ever born! We’ve been unlucky. We’ve lost a fat wether. Daw: Mary, God forbid! Gyb: Who would do that to us? That’s a foul act.

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Coll: Some villain. I have searched with my dogs all Horbery’s bushes, and of 15 wethersI found only one ewe. The other one’s gone. Daw: Now listen to me, I swear by St. Thomas, either Mak or Gill is behind this act. Coll: Peace, man, be still! I saw when he left. You slander him; you ought to repent,and

quickly. Gyb: I swear on my life, and hope to die, I would say it was Mak that stole our sheep. Daw: We should go to his house, I think, and get there quickly. I swear I won’t eat until

I know the truth. Coll: Me neither. I won’t drink a thing until I see him. Gyb: And I won’t sleep a wink until I talk to him. I’ll even take an oath: Till I see him in sight I shall never sleep one night. [They approach Mak’s house.] Daw: Will you listen to that singing? Our father wishes he could sing like that. Coll: I have never heard anyone sing so clean out of tune. Call him. Gyb: Mak, open your door at once. Mak: Who’s that calling like it was high noon? Who is it, I say? Daw: If it were day, I’d say we were good fellows. Mak: As much as you can, my friends, speak softly over a sick woman’s head that is

very unwell. I had rather be dead before she had any disease. Gill: Go somewhere else! I can’t breathe. Every step you take goes right through my nose, you’re so loud! Coll: Tell us, Mak, if you can, how are you, can we ask? Mak: Why are you in this town today? How are you? You have run through the mire,

and are still all wet. Let me make you a fire, if you will sit awhile. I would like to hire a wet-nurse. Think about it. I’ve paid my dues. I have more than enough children , if you only knew. But we must drink what we brew. That’s reasonable enough, I suppose. I wish you would eat before you go. You seem hot and sweaty.

Gyb: No, neither meat nor drink will mend our mood. Mak: Why, what what’s wrong?

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Daw: Our sheep were stolen right where they stood. Our loss is great. Mak: Sirs, drink up! Had I been there, somebody would have been very sore. Coll: Mak, some men think that you were there and that troubles us. Gyb: Mak, some men think that you stole our sheep. Daw: Either you or your wife, so we say. Mak: Now if you have suspicions of Gill or me, come and rip our house, and then you

may see Who has it. Whether I took anybody’s sheep or cow or heifer or horse. And Gill, my wife, did not rise since lying down right here. As I am true and loyal, to God I pray here, that this be the first meal that I shall eat this day.

Col: Mak, watch yourself, I say; He learned early to steal and could not say no. Gill: I’m about to faint. Out, thieves, from my home! You’ve come here just to rob us! Mak: Can’t you hear how she groans? Your hearts should melt. Gill: Get out of here, you thieves, get away from my child! Don’t come any closer! Mak: If you knew what she’s been through, your hearts would be sore. You do wrong,

I’m warning you, to come in here like this to a woman just out of labor--but I will say no more.

Gill: Oh! My stomach! I pray to God so mild, if I have ever lied to you, let me eat this child that’s lying in this cradle. Mak: Peace, woman, for God’s sake, don’t talk like that: You spill your brains, and

make me sorry. Gyb: I think our sheep is slaughtered. What do you two think? Daw: All our work in vain; we might as well go. But, dang it, I can find no flesh, raw or

cooked, salted or fresh. All I can find are two empty platters. No livestock, tame nor wild, none, as I have bliss, as loud as he smelled.

Gill: No, so help me God, and God bless my little baby! Col: We’ve made a mistake; But I think we’ve been tricked. Gyb: So be it. Our Lady save this little--Is it a boy? Mak: Any lord might have this child for his son. When he wakes up, he grabs at

everything, it’s a joy to see.

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Daw: In time with his legs, too, and in good cheer. But who were his godparents, with him so soon ready?

Mak: God bless them all! Col: Hark now, a lie. Mak: Thank God for them: Parkyn, and Gybon Waller, I say, and gentle John Horne.

He made all the commotion with his great legs. Gyb: Mak, let’s be friends, for we are all one. Mak: We? I look after number one, for I’ll get no profit otherwise. Farewell you three! I’m glad you’re leaving. [The shepherds depart.] Daw: Fair words there may be, but there is no love in that house this year. Col: Did you give the child anything? Gyb: Not one farthing. Daw: I’ll go back right now. Wait for me here. [Returns to the house.] Mak, don’t get angry, but I came back with a present for your baby. Mak: No, you injure me greatly, and you have done wrong. Daw: It won’t grieve the child, the little day-star. Mak, by your leave, let me give your baby just 6 pennies. Mak: No, go away; he’s sleeping. Daw: I think he’s peeping. Mak: He cries when he wakes up. Just go away, and leave him alone. [The other Shepherds return.] Daw: Let me kiss him, and look under the cloth. What the devil is this? He has a long snoot. Col: He’s badly marked. We pry about wrongfully. Gyb: Ill-spun weft, he is, it always comes out. Hey! He looks just like our sheep! Daw: How so, Gyb, let me look. Col: I think nature will creep even if it cannot walk.

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Gyb: That was a crafty trick, and a good one. It was a high fraud. Daw: Yes, sirs, it was. Let’s burn this wench, and bind her fast. A false one hung at last;

and so will you. Will you look at how they swaddled his four feet in the middle. I’ve never seen a lad with horns lying in a cradle.

Mak: Hush, now. Don’t talk like that. I sired him, and she bore him. Col: What the devil shall he be named, Mak, Jr.? Look—it’s Mak’s heir. Gyb: Forget all that. Now God give him grief, I say. Gill: He’s the prettiest baby that ever sat on a woman’s knee. A dilly-down darling to

make anybody laugh Daw: I recognize him by the ear mark: there’s a good sign. Mak: I tell you sirs, listen--his nose was broken. A cleric told me that he was bewitched. Col: This is a false work; I’ll get even. Get your weapons. Gill: He was taken by an elf. I saw it myself. When the clock struck twelve, he became

misshapen. Gyb: Well, you two are in a fine mess. Daw: Since they deny their theft, we’ll have to kill them. Mak: If I ever steal again, then cut off my head. Col: Gentlemen, take my advice. For this thievery, we will neither curse nor quarrel,

fight nor chide, but be done quickly, and toss him in a blanket. [They toss Mak in a canvas.]

Lord, but I’m sore, My arms are about to fall off. In faith, I can do no more; I’m going to sleep.

Gyb: He weighed as much as a full-grown ram. I’m so tired, I could sleep right here. Daw: Well, why don’t you? Lie down on this green. Col: One of these thieves I mean. Daw: Why should you be annoyed? Do what I say. [The Shepherds sleep] Angel sings “Gloria in excelsis;” and afterwards shall say:

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Angel: Rise gentle shepherds! For now he is born who shall take back from the devil what Adam had lost. He who shall destroy that warlock, is born this night. God is made your friend, now on this morning. He promises. Go to Bethlehem and see: There lies that noble child in a manger so poor, between two beasts.

Col: That was the most curious voice that I ever heard. It’s marvelous; it makes me scared. Gyb: He spoke from above of God’s Son of Heaven. It seemed he made lightning

appear in the woods. Daw: He spoke of a baby in Bethlehem. Col: That star is a sign. Let us seek him there. Gyb: Say, what was his song? Did you hear how he roared? Three short notes to a long. Daw: Yes, he sang it, all right. There was nothing wrong, and nothing missing. Col: I want to sing it exactly as he sang it. I think I can. Gyb: Let’s see how you croon. Daw: Hold your tongues, be quiet! Col: Listen then. [Sings.] Gyb: He said that we should go to Bethlehem. Let’s go; I’m afraid we may tarry too long.. Daw: Be merry. Don’t be sad; our song is of mirth and everlasting joy . We can take our

reward without complaint. Col: Let’s go then. Whether we’re wet and weary, to that child and that lady. We have

nothing to lose. Gyb: We find by the prophecy—be quiet you—of David and Isaiah, and more than I can

recall right now, that they prophesied in Scripture that to a virgin He would be born, to destroy our sin and remove it. To save our kind from woe. For Isaiah said so: Behold a virgin shall conceive a naked child. [virgo concipiet]

Daw: We may be very glad, and await the day that we may see that lovely child, that

almighty Child. Lord, it would be well with me, for once and for all, If I could kneel on my knee, to say some word to that child. But the angel said that He was laid in a manger. He was wrapped up in a cloth. He was both poor and mild.

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Col: Patriarchs that have been, and the prophets before them, they desired to have seen this child that is now born. They are all gone, they have all died. We shall see him, I think, before the morning comes, as a proof. When I see and touch him, then I will know full well, that it is as true as steel what prophets have said. That to such people as poor as we are that he would appear. Such was declared by His messenger.

Gyb: Let’s go now, get moving; the place is nearby. Daw: I am ready and prepared; we go in fear to that brightness. Lord, if it be thy will,

we are ignorant, all three, please grant us some kind of joy, to comfort thy creatures.

[They enter the stable.] Col: Hail! comely and clean! Hail! Young child! Hail! Child of a maiden so mild! You

have cursed, I think, the devil, the false deceiver now he goes beguiled. Look, he smiles! He laughs, my little darling! A good meeting! I have kept my promise; Here, have a sprig of cherries.

Gyb: Hail! Suffering savior, for thou hast sought us! Hail, noble child and flower, who

has made all things! Hail, full of favor, who made the world out of nothing! Hail to thee! I kneel and I cower. I have brought a bird for the baby. Hail little moppet! You are born of our creed. I would drink from your cup, little day-star.

Daw: Hail, little darling dear, full of Godhead! I pray thee be near when I have need.

Hail, sweet is thy cheer! My heart bleeds to see thee sit here in such poor clothing, With no pennies. Hail, to thee! Put forth thy hand! I bring thee but a ball: To have and to keep, and to play tennis.

Mary: The father of heaven, God omnipotent, who made all in seven days, has sent his

son. I conceived him through his might. And now he is born. May he keep you from woe. I shall pray to him for you. Tell the good news as you go forth, and remember this morning.

Col: Farewell, lady, so fair to behold, with your child on your knee. Gyb: He looks very cold. Lord, well is me. Now we go, to behold him. Daw: Are you all ready? It seems to be told quite often. Col: What grace we have found! Gyb: Come forth: now we are saved. Daw: To sing we are bound: Let us sing out! [They go out singing.]