TRUM. It may be so; but these were the Plays of those times. Afterwards in the Reign of K. _H._ 8. both the Subject and Form of these Plays began to alter, and have since varied more and more. I have by me, a thing called _A merry Play between the Pardoner and the Frere, the Curate and Neybour Pratte_. Printed the 5 of _April_ 1533, which was 24 _H._ 8. (a few Years before the Dissolution of Monasteries). The design of this Play was to redicule Friers and Pardoners. Of which I'll give you a taste. To begin it, the Fryer enters with these Words,
Deus hic; the holy Trynyte Preserue all that now here be. Dere bretherne, yf ye will consyder The Cause why I am com hyder, Ye wolde be glad to knowe my entent; For I com not hyther for mony nor for rent, I com not hyther for meat nor for meale, But I com hyther for your Soules heale, &c.
After a long Preamble, he addresses himself to Preach, when the Pardoner enters with these Words,
God and St. Leonarde send ye all his grace As many as ben assembled in this place, &c.
And makes a long Speech, shewing his Bulls and his Reliques, in order to sell his Pardons for the raising some Money towards the rebuilding,
Of the holy Chappell of sweet saynt Leonarde, Which late by fyre was destroyed and marde.
Both these speaking together, with continual interruption, at last they fall together by the Ears. Here the Curate enters (for you must know the Scene lies in the Church)
Hold your hands; a vengeance on ye both two That euer ye came hyther to make this ado, To polute my Chyrche, &c.
_Fri._ Mayster Parson, I marvayll ye will give Lycence To this false knaue in this Audience To publish his ragman rolles with lyes. I desyred hym ywys more than ones or twyse To hold his peas tyll that I had done, But he would here no more than the man in the mone.
_Pard._ Why sholde I suffre the, more than thou me? Mayster parson gaue me lycence before the. And I wolde thou knowest it I have relykes here, Other maner stuffe than thou dost bere:
I wyll edefy more with the syght of it, Than will all thy pratynge of holy wryt; For that except that the precher himselfe lyve well, His predycacyon wyll helpe never a dell, &c.
_Pars._ No more of this wranglyng in my Chyrch: I shrewe your hertys bothe for this lurche. Is there any blood shed here between these knaues? Thanked be god they had no stauys, Nor egotoles, for then it had ben wronge. Well, ye shall synge another songe.