Selected quad for the lemma: city_n
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A04054
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The enterlude of youth
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1565
(1565)
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STC 14112; ESTC S109083
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10,506
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26
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⧠The Enterlude of Youth ✿ Charite ¶ Youth IEsu that his armes dyd sprede And on a tree was done to dead From all perils he you defende I desire audieÌ„ce til I haue made an eÌ„de For I am come from God aboue To occupie his lawes to your behoue And am named Charitie There maye no man saued be without the helpe of me For he that Charitie doth refuse Other vertues though he do vse Without Charitie it wyll not be For it is written in the faithe Qâ—im 〈◊〉 in charitate in deo moue I am the gate I tell the Of heauen that ioiful cytie Ther maie no man thider come But of charyty he must haue some Or he may not come iwis Vnto heauen the citie of blysse therfore charitie who wil him take Apure soule it wil him make Before the face of God In the. A.B.C. of bokes the least Yt is writen deus charitas est Lo charitie is a great thinge Of all vertues it is the kinge Whan God in earth was here liuinge Of chariti he found none endinge I was planted in his hart We two might not departe Out of his harte I did springe throughe the might of the heaueÌ„ king And all preestes that be Maie not lyue without charitye And charitey to them they do not take they may not receiue him that did them make And all this worlde of noughte ✿ youth A backe felowes and giue me roume Or I shall make you to auoyde sone I am goodlye of persone I am pereles where euer I come My name is youth I tell the I florysh as the vine tre Who may be likened vnto me In my youthe and Iolitye My hearre is royall and bushed thicke My body plyaunt as a hasel styck Myne armes be bothe fayre And strong My fingers be both faire and longe My chest bigge as a tunne My legges vâ—foll lighte for to runne To hoppe and daunce and make mery By the masse I recke not a chery What so euer I do I am the heyre of my fathers lande And it is come into my hande I care for no more Charite Are you so disposed to doo To folowe vice and let vertue go Youthe Ye sir euen so For nowe a dayes he is not set by Without he be vnthriftye Charite You had nede to aske God mercye Why do you so prase your body Youthe Why knaue what is that to the Wilt thou let me to prayse my body Whi shuld I not praise it it be goodli I will not let for the Charite what shal it be whan thou shalt flyt For the wealth into the pyt Therfore of it be not to boolde Least thou for think it whan the art old Ye maye be lykened to a tre In youth floryshyng with royallte And in age it is cut downe And to the fyre is throwne So shalt thou but thou amende Be burned in hel without ende Youthe Ye horson trowest thou so Be ware leaste thou thyder go Hence caytife go the way Or with my dagger I shal the slay Hens knaue out of this place Or I shal lay the on the face Sayest thou that I shal go to hel For euer more there to dwel I had leuer thou had euyll fare Charite ¶ A yet syr do by my rede And aske mercy for thi misdede And thou shalt be an herytoure of blysse Where al ioye and myrthe is Where thou shal se a glorius syght Of aungeles singing with saintes bright Before the face of God Youthe ¶ what syrs aboue the sky I had nede of a ladder to climbe so hye But what and the ladder slyppe Than I am deceyued yet And if I fal I catche a quecke I may fortune to breke my necke And that ioynte is yll to set Nay nay not so Charite ¶ O yet remember cal to thi minde The mercy of God passeth al thyng For it is wryten by noble clerkes The mercye of God passeth all werkes That witnesseth holy scrypture sainge thus Miseratio dominâ— super omnia opera â—iuâ— Therfore doute not goddes grace Ther of is plenty in euery place Youthe ¶ What me thynke ye be clerkyshe For ye speake good gibbryshe Syr I pray you and you haue any store Soyle me a question or ye caste out any more Least whan your connynge is all done My question haue no solucion Syr and it please you this Whi do meÌ„ eate musterd with salt fishe Sir I praie you soile me this quistion That I haue put to your descrecyon Charite ¶ Thus question is but vanitie It longeth not to me Suche questions to assoyle youthe ¶ Sir by god that me dere bought I se your conninge is litell or noughte And I shuld folowe your scole Sone ye wold make a fole Therfore crake no longer here Least I take you on the eare And make your head to ake Charite Sir it falleth not for me to fighte Nether by day ne be night therfore do my counsaile I saye Than to heueÌ„ thou shalt haue the wai Youthe ✿ No syr I thinke ye will not fighte But to take a mans purs in the night Ye will not sai nay For suche holy caitifes Were wonte to be theues And such wolde be hanged as hye As a man may se with his eye In faith this same is true Charite ¶ God saue euery christen body From such euell destroye And sende vs of his grace In heuen to haue a place youthe ¶ Nay nay I warrant the He hathe no place for the we nest thou he wyll haue suche fooles To syt on his gaie stooles Naie I warrant the naye Humily Well sir I put me in good is wyll Whether he wyll me saue or spyll And sir I pray you do so And truste in god what so euer ye do youthe Sir I praye the holde thy peace And talke to me of no goodnes And soone loke thou go thy waye Lesse with my dagger I the slaie In faithe if thou meue my hatte Thou shalte be wearie of thy parte Or thou and I haue done Charite Thynke what God suffered for the His armes to be spred vpon a tree A knight with a speare opened his syd In his harte appeared a wounde wid That bought both you and me youthe Goddes faste what is that to me Thou dawe wylte thou rede me In my youth to lose my ioylitie Hence knaue and go thy waye Or wyth my dagger I shall the slaye Charite O sir heare what I you tell And be ruled of my counsell That ye might syt in heuen hye with God and his company Youthe A yet of God thou wilte not ceasse Tyll I fyght in good earnesse On my fayth I tell the true yf I fyghte thou wylte it rue All the dayes of thy lyfe Charite Syr I se it wyll none otherwise be I will go to my brother Humilitie And take good counsayle of him Howe it is best to be do therin youthe ye mary syre I pray you of that Me thinke it were a good sight of your backe I wolde