Here begy[n]neth y[e] new notborune mayd vpo[n] y[e] passio[n] of Cryste This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A04427 of text S108121 in the English Short Title Catalog. Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 20KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A04427

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A04427) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 24999) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 520:2 or 1728:17) Here begy[n]neth y[e] new notborune mayd vpo[n] y[e] passio[n] of Cryste [8] p. By John Skot dwellyuge [sic] in Foster Lane [w?]in Saynt Leonardes parysshe, Imprynted at London : [1535?] In verse. Caption title. Imprint from colophon. Date of imprint suggested by STC (2nd ed.). A religious parody of The nutbrown maid--Cf. Hazlitt. Handbook, p. 425. Reproduction of original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.

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 eng Jesus Christ -- Poetry. Religious poetry, English -- Early modern, 1500-1700. eebo Here begy[n]neth ye new Nothborune mayd vpo[n] ye passio[n] of cryste n/a 1535 10 2347 1 0 0 0 0 0 4.26 B The rate of 4.26 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2014-01 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-03 Sampled and proofread 2014-03 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Here begynneth the new Notborune mayd vpon the passion of cryste

depiction of the crucifixion of Christ with Longinus, the Virgin, and St. John

Ryght and no wrong It is amonge that I of man complayne Affyrmynge this Howe that it is A laboure spent in vayne To loue hym well For neuer adell He wyll me loue agayne Forthough that I Me sore applye His fauer to attayne Yet yf that shrewe To hym pursue That clepyd is Sathan Hym to conuerte Sone from his herte I am a banysshed man . Maria the mayde . I say not naye Bothe nyght and daye Swete sonne as ye haue sayde Man is vnkynde His faythfull mynde In maner is halfe decayed But neuer the lesse Through cyghtwysenes They rwith be not apayed yet mercy trewe Muste contynewe And not a parte be layed Syth ye for loue Came frome a boue Frome your father in trone . Of louynge mynde To warde mankynde To dye for hym alone . Iesus . Than ye and I Mother marye Let vs despute in fere . Ryght hertely / I you supply your reason lette me here . With man vnkynde Hath neuer mynde Of me that bought hym dere If his folye Shulde haue mercy Ayenste all ryght it were I am by ryght The kynge of lyght For man my blode out ranne Ye knowe a parte Yet from his herte I am a banysshed man . Maria . Here in your wyll For to fulfyll I wyll not sone refuse . To say the truthe More is it ruthe I cannot man excuse . To his owne shame He is to blame His lyfe soo to measure . Yet though rygoure Without fauour Woldehym theyrfore accuse . Mercy I pleate That is more greate Than rygoure ten to one . Syth of good mynde To warde mankynde Ye dyed for hym alone . Iesus . The cause stode so Suche dedes were do Wherfore moche harme dyde growe . Tho man and I Came for to dye A shamefull dethe ye knowe . Vpon a tree To make hym free This loue I dyde hym showe Yet to my lawe For loue norawe He wyll not bende nor bowe . Thus my dere mother For man my brother Let me do what I canne . Hym to conuerte Yet from his herte I am a banysshed man Maria . O lorde of blysse Remembre this Howe mannes myrde is lyke the mone Is varyable Frayle / and vnstable At morowe / nyght / & noone . Though he vnkynde Haue not in mynde What ye for hym haue doone . Yet haue compassyon Of our saluacyon Forsake not man so soone . A whyle hym spare He shall prepare Hym selfe to you anone . With harte and mynde Louynge and kynde To serue but you alone . Iesus . I can beleue He shall remeue His synne a daye or twayne . But lytell space That god of grace Wyll in his herte remayne . It shall astake And he wyll take His olde vsage a gayne . So from his thought I that hym bought Shall be expoulsed playne . Thus wyll he do Swete motherloo Holde ye all that ye canne . Vpon his parte yet frome his herte I am a banysshed man . Maria . Swete sonne syth ye To make hym fre Wold dye of your good mynde . Your herte souerayne Clouen in twayne By Longes the blynde . And all was done That man alone Shulde not be lefte behynde . Your goodnes euer Dothe styllperseuer Though he haue ben vnkynde What is offendyd shall be amended Ye shall persayue anone . He shall be kynde yeldynge his mynde And loue to you alone . Iesus . Matter in dede My sydes dyde blede For man ryght as ye saye . Yet yonge and olde He neuer wolde Vnto my lawes obaye . But to fulfyll His wanton wyll Wrenchynchynge from me alway Frome his delyght By day or nyght He wyll make no delay Lo mother he Refuseth me And tourneth hym to Sathan Thus from his thought I that hym bought Am made the banysshed man . Maria . Bothe olde and yonge He hathe done wronge I graunt sone to the same Rowynge at large In Sathans barge Empayryng his good name Syth ye hym loue A greate reproue It is to hym & shame I do confesse By ryghtwysenes He is greatly to blame But I commence Afore clemence For man myne accyon Let rygour reste Mercy can beste Determyn this alone . Iesus . Consydre nowe Swete mother howe Man is a wylde outlawe Renneth a boughte In euery route Workynge ayenst my lawe And yf the deuyll Tempte hym to euyll Theyrto sone wyll he drawe And all myschefe ys to hym lefe Withouten loue orawe To me or you Though for his prowe ye do to all yecan Whan all is sought Quyet frome his thought I am a banysshed man . Maria . Though as ye say He disobaye Your commaundemet and lore yet yf loue make Hym to forsake His synne / & wepe therfore with full contrycyon For his transgressyon His herte oppressynge sore Contryte and meke As Dauyd speke what aske ye of hym more My sonne / my lorde your prophytes worde I pray you thynke vpon And ye shall fynde Man meke and kynde To serue but you alone . Iesus . My herte & mawe To rent & drawe And me with othes tobynde Cheseth not he Grace or pytye In hym can I none fynde The crewell Iewes were to me shrewes But he is more vnkynde Syth for his prowe He knoweth well howe I dyde of louynge mynde Of me eche membre He do the remembre with othes all that he can Thus ofte I fynde Me in his mynde But elles a banysshed man . Maria . Full well knowe ye A yenst thyes thre Man feble is to fyght The deuyll / his flesshe / The worlde all fresshe Prouoke hym day and nyght To sue theyr trace Whyche in eche case Is wronge and neuer ryght That thyne stabylyte Of his fragylyte Ayensty them hath no myhgt Though man that frayle is Swere armes / and nales Brane / blode / sydes / passyon Swete sonne regarde Your pāynēs harde ye dyded for hym alone . Iesus . Now for mannes nede Sith I wolde blede And great anguysshe sustayne In stony wayes Both nyghtes and dayes Walkyngein frost / and rayne In clode / and hete In drye / and wete My fete were bare both twayne Though I for loue To mannes behoue Endured all this payne That I therfore Sholde spare the more No reson fynde ye can Rather I sholde More strayte hym holde And as a banysshed man Maria . yet my sonne dere I pray you here what tyme poure reason is Mannes soule to cure ye dyde endure Moche payne / I knowe well this To man all vayne Shulde be your payne If he were put to blys For playne remyssyon Is my pet ycyon Where man hathe wrought amys ye be his leche I you beseche To saulue his fores echone That he vnkynde May chaunge his mynde And serue but you alone . Iesus . Hyther or theder He careth not whyther He go hym to enclyne To wyckydnesse From all goodnesse He dayly do the declyne In cardes and dyce He compteth no vyce Nor syttynge at the wyne To fyght and swere To rent and tere A sondre me and myne Lo thus he dothe To make me wrothe The worst he may or can And I am twynde Out of his mynde Ryght as a banysshed man . Maria . My dere sonne dere Syth ye the clere Fountayne of mercy b● Though man be frayle He may not fayle To fynde in you pytye He wyll I truste Frome worldely lust Turne his swete soule to me And in shorte space So stande in grace That I his soule shall se To blysse assende That hathe none ende There to remayne as one That hathe ben kynde And set his mynde Toserue but you alone . Iesus . Man greueth me sore For lasse nor more Wyll he wons doo for me Ones in a yere A good prayer He sayeth not on his kne The poure may stande With empty hande For almes theyr wyll none be Bothe day and nyght He flyeth the ryght But folye he wyll not fle His proper wyll For to fulfyll He doeth all that he can But from his thought I that hym bohght Am euer a banysshed man Maria . If man for you Nor his owne prow Wyll to no grace procede Mercy or grace A fore your face He none deserueth in dede But I your mother For man your brother Make Instaunce in his nede Though he deserue To brynne / and sterue In the Infernall glede Spare hym for me And ye shall se That he shall tourne anone Frome his folye Incessantly To serue but you alone . Iesus . why shulde I soo Nay let hym go My dere mother mary Syth his delyght Is to be lyght And deale so vnkyndly For you nor me He wyll not flee From vyce / nor hym applye My wordes to here That bought hym dere On crosse anguyously Bothe yonge and olde He hathe ben bolde To greue me that he can But my precept Was euer vnkept And I a banysshed man . Maria . For ruthe & drede Myne herte doth blede Man in no wyfe wylbe By reason sayd Nor yet apayed From his offence to flee For though that I For remedye Do all that lyeth in me To haue hym cured yet so endured withsynne & vyce is he That to be shorte what I exhorte Not herde is / yet anone I trust he shall Make well his thrall And serue but you alone . Iesus . So rude and wylde And so defyled Is he / paste shame & drede That to what lawe He shulde hym drawe He scarsely knoweth in dede yet better were For hym to lere Some vertu / & procede To grace than saye Another daye Alas my wycked dede Hathe me betrayed Lo thus good mayde The doughter of saynte Anne . Man hate exylede Frome hym your chylde Ryght as a banysshed man . Maria . Whan all to all Shall come / he shall I trust from vyce abrayed And fle theyrfroo whiche hathe hym so Encombered & arayed He shall repell Sathans councell That ofte hathe hym betrayed With full compounctyon To take thy iniunction That shal be to hym layed Of harde penaunce And hym auaunce To seche remyssyon Full reconsyled To you my chylde Te serue but you alone Iesus . My commaundement Neuer contente His hyghnes for to alowe His Irous brayde Wyll not be layed For me nor yet for you Myne yerte to teare He hathe no feare But dare it well avowe Pryde with hym goeth In herte & cloth How say ye mother nowe Hy thynketh great ease Me to dysplease By all the meanes he can But whan my wyll He shulde fulfyll I am a banysshed man . Maria . Sonne though mannes blode Be wylde and wode Frayle as a fadyng floure Regardynge nought How ye hym bought Out of the fendes powre With hertely mynde Euer enclyned To be a transgressoure Ayenst your lawe And though he drawe Hym selfe to synne eche houre ye may not soo His soule for go Syth ye syttynge in throne Wolde for his loue Come frome aboue To dye for hym alone . Iesus . Mother your loue I se the proue To man is kynde & true To haue his lyfe Brought out of stryfe Kyndely for hym ye sue And yf he wold His vyces olde Forsake & take vertue I wolde for ruthe Seynge the truthe And loue that ye hym shewe Graunt hym remyssyon Vpon condycyon That he forsake Sathan That I may fynde Me in his mynde And as no banysshed man Maria . Sonne your petye And charytye Was well perceyued & sene Whan your pleasure Was to endure To lye my sydes betwene Nyne monethes / and than Be borne as man And to brynge hym from tene In graue be layed And me your mayd To make of heuen Quene And condestende Thus at the ende To graunte man your pardon At my requeste Wherfore shulde reste Greate laude to you alone Iesus . The poore at nede To clothe and fede Parte of his rent & wage He muste bestowe Rememberynge howe All came of one lynage Forsakynge synne He may me wynne And to myne herytage I shall hym take His soule to make My spouse in mariage For to perseuer With me foreuer With ioye she may say than That she hathe wonne A kynges sonne And not a banysshed man . The translator . Regarde and se O man to the God is moche fauorable Eschewe thou than Reprefe no man Beware by dedes dampnable In any wyse Euer despyse Sathan the deceyuable Thy soule beware Out of his snare Neuer be founde vnstable Perseuerauntly Reason applye Iustely let all be done Endlesse solace Shall he purchase That serueth but god alone .

Thus endeth the boke of the newe Notbrowne mayd vpon the passyon of Cryste Imprynted at London by Iohn Skot dwellyuge in Foster lane within saynt Leonardes perysshe .