The remors of conscyence here begynneth certayne demonstracyons by our lorde to all synfull persones with the remors of mannes conscyence to the regarde of the bounte of our lorde. Lichfield, William, d. 1448. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A10610 of text S105052 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 20882). 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. 29 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 13 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A10610 STC 20882 ESTC S105052 99840782 99840782 5312 2248580849

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A10610) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 5312) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 20:13, 133:03) The remors of conscyence here begynneth certayne demonstracyons by our lorde to all synfull persones with the remors of mannes conscyence to the regarde of the bounte of our lorde. Lichfield, William, d. 1448. [24] p. : ill. In Flete-strete at ye sygne of ye Sonne by me Wynkyn de Worde, [Enprynted at London : [1534?]] By William Lichfield. In verse. Known in manuscripts as "The complaynt of God". Imprint from colophon; publication date conjectured by STC. Signatures: A-C⁴. In this edition, title page line 4 begins: stracyons. Identified as STC 5605 on UMI microfilm reel 133. Reproductions of the originals in the British Library and the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery. Appears at reel 20 (British Library copy) and at reel 133 (Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery copy). eng Christian life -- Early works to 1800. Christian life -- Poetry. eebo The remors of conscyence, here begynneth certayne demonstracyons by our lorde to all synfull persones with the remors of mannes conscyence to the rega Lichfield, William, 1534 26 4398 2 0 0 0 0 0 4.55 B The rate of 4.55 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2005-12 Assigned for keying and markup 2005-12 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2006-01 Sampled and proofread 2006-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2006-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

The remors of conscyence .

Here begynneth certayne demonstracyons by our lorde to all synfull persones with the Remors of mannes conscyence to the regarde of the bounte of our lorde .

Deus . OVr gracyous god moost in magnyfycence His mercyful eyen casteth from heuen on hi Seynge his creatures in deedly vyolence Hym selfe complayneth by pyte full rutfully Sayenge o man deuoyde of intellygence Open thyne eeres vnto my call and crye And tell me yf I haue done to the offence That thou forsakest my wyllyngly Man suche a loue to the I dyde take This world in seuen dayes whan I it wrought Thou was the laste thynge that I dyd make Bycause I wolde thou wanted nought What thynge the myght helpe dyd not lake That at thy nede yf it were sought Fowle fysshe all thynge for thy sake For thy comforte all was forth brought Moreouer I gaue the that dygnyte All beestes to bowe the vntyll I made the also lyke vnto me And gaue the connynge and freewyll Me to serue that thou sholde se To chose the good and leue the yll I aske nothynge agayne of the But loue thy souerayne as it is skyll But vnto this takest thou none entente Thou tournest fro me full vnkyndly On loues vnlefull thy loue is lente Thy herte beholdeth not heuen so hye For all the goodes I haue the sente The lysteth not ones to saye gramercye In tyme to come or thou repente Man make amendes or that thou dye Homo . A crysten soule conceyued in synne Receyued in conscyence thus complanynge He fell downe flatte with delefull dynne And sayd lorde mercy souerayne kynge A moost vnkynde Wretche of man kynne I knowe I am thy traytour vntrue in my lyuynge This wycked lyfe that I lyue in I may it nought hyde frome thy knowynge I want wordes and also wytte Of thy kyndnesse to speke a cause That I haue thou gaue me it Of thy goodnes withouten cause Thoughe I haue greued the and do yet Thy benefaytes thou nought withdrawse I haue deserued to haue hell pytte So haue I lyued ayenst thy lawse But lorde thou knowest mannes feblenesse How frayle it is and hath ben aye For thoughe the soule haue thy lykenesse Man is but fulsome erthe and claye In synne conceyued and wretchednesse And to the soule rebell alwaye Fyrst a man groweth as dooth gresse And he wasteth after as floures or haye Syth man is than so frayle a thynge And thy power so grete in kynde This worlde is but a twynkelynge Thou mayst destroye the myght of the fynde With thy ryght lorde mercy mynge And to my sore salue thou fende Sore me repenteth of my myslyuynge Mercy lorde I wyll amende Deus . Man I gaue the bodyly hele That thou sholde it spende in my seruyce Fayrenes also and fetures fele Man what doost thou with all thyse Thou with delytes of the deuyll doost dele Whiche is to me a great despyse Thou lyuest a lecherous lyfe vnlele Fro yere to yere thou lyst not ryse Thou studyest after nyce araye And makest great cost on thy clothynge To make the semely as who sholde saye Thou coudest amende my makynge Thou purposed the daye by daye To set my people in synnynge Thy wretched wyll thou folowest alwaye What ende synne hathe thou thynkest nothynge In Noes tyme bycause of synne And for lecherye in especyall What vengeaunce came than to mannes kynne Saue .viij. persones drowned were all On Sodome / and Gomor / and the men within How I made fyre and brymstone fall Fro heuen on them that bode therin for synne were destroyed bothe great & small Man wenest thou my myght be lesse Than it was than or that elles I Thou hast no as moche wyckdnesse As whan I smote the moost pyteously But yf thou wyll thy fautes redresse Thought I now spare for my mercy Man thynke on my ryghtwysnesse And make amendes or that thou dye Homo . I wote well lorde ryght full thou arte And that synne must be punysshed nede But one thynge holdeth in hope my herte Thy mercy passeth my mysdede I know well that I may not sterte I haue so done me ought to drede With beaute and with bodely quarte To serue the I haue taken no hede I haue my spende my yonge age In synne and wantonnesse also To serue god slowe / and loued to rage A gloton a lechour I was bothe two I am worth none other wage But for to dwell in endlesse woo Alas why haue I ben outrage And serued the fende that is my foo But lorde in holy wryte rede we That thou forsakest no wretched wyght That leueth his synne and tourneth to the And to tourne to the haue I hyght Full proude and rebell haue I bene But now I take me to thy myght From hens forwarde to be clene Ayenst myn owne flesshe to fyght My flesshe to feble I wyll fast My bones to trauayle and to tene And through thy grace I am not agast What sore and sekenesse on me sene To suffre whyle my lyfe may last For vtterly I wyll attende To punysshe that I haue trespast Mercy Iesu I wyll amende Deus . Man I haue sent the syluer and golde And all thy welth within thy wone To susteyne the and thy housholde And also other many one Thou myght haue holpen yonge and olde That ben deseased and woo begone My seruauntes suffred bothe hungre & colde Relefe of the yet haue they none If thou gyue for my loue a farthynge Thou doost it with an heuy herte In almesse thou gyuest no thynge For drede thou fall in pouerte In flesshely lust and worldly lykynge What euer thou wastest mery thou arte Of suche I wyll haue a rekenynge At domes daye thou shalte not astarte Than shalte thou gyue a countes full streyte How thou comest by thy good eche dele Whether with trouth or with deceyte And how thou spende it yll or we le None other grace thou after wayte As thou hast wrought so shalte thou fele What shall than profyte thy good in plate Or poundes that thou of the people pele A clene conscyence shall that daye More profyte the and more set by Than all the goodes or the monaye Than euer was vnder heuen or skye It wyll neuer helpe to plete nor praye For as ryghtwyse than deme wyll I And therfore man whyles thou maye Make amendes or that thou dye Homo . I wote well lorde fro yere to yere Full greatly greued I the haue That I wolde nor they mercy were My mothers wombe had be my graue For what profyteth my lyuynge here But afterwarde I sholde be saue But Ihesu as thou bought me dere Leue not my soule in hell caue My waste expense I wyll withdrawe For waste well called maye it be For it was spended my boost to lawe My name to bere on londe and se Well I wote me there not trowe Thoughe many a man of my countre If they me mette they dyd me not knowe Nor neuer yet herde speke of me Falsly I haue wrought as wretche vnwyse I myght haue goten me moche mede Had I it spente in goddes seruyce But brought they grace lorde I am in drede As men that lyeth and may not ryse For haue I am myn all our nede With the remenaunt lorde at thy deuyse The poore and naked with cloth and fere Seke men that lyen in goddes bandes That haue no syluer for to spende And prysoners bounde bothe fete and handes Ofte to vysyte and them attende Whan I se them that in nede standes Suche as I haue I shall them sende Lorde let these werkes lesse my bande And mercy Ihesu I wyll amende Deus . Man yf thou amendes wylte make Gyue thyne almes of thyn owne goodes And se thou werke no man to wrake To venge ony other mennes modes If thou vntruely from ony take And therwith fynde forty theyr fodes Suche sacryfyce I forsake They be to me as souer as wormewode The pore people thou doo oppresse With sleyghtes and wyles many one Thou makest chyrches and do lynge messe Thou mendest wayes where men ouer gone And some men curse and some men blesse Whiche shall I hereof these two If thou wylte haue grace as I gesse Let all falsenes be fledde the fro The mothes that thy clothes ete And thou lettest pore men go bare Thy drynke soureth and mouleth thy mere Wherwith the poore man myght well fare The rust that thy syluer dooth frete Thy goodes that euyll goten are They crye on the vengeaunce grete The for to spyll but yet I spare With holdest here ayenst the ryght Frome thy seruauntes vpon the crye Man oftentymes thou hast me hyght Thou wolde amende and leue foly Thou spekest full fayre bothe daye and nyght Thou brekest my commaundementes contynually Yet is me lothe with the to fyght But make amendes or that thou dye Homo . Swete lorde I may not agaynst saye I haue not holden that I the hyght I greue the gretely euery daye I do not as I had the plyght I woide do well but welawaye with enemyes I am euer beset whan my soule fayne wolde the paye My flesshe is fyrst that wyll me let And euer the farder that I it fede Euer the fressher it is my foo Yet bere it aboute I must nede Full feble it is it wyll me sloo The worlde / the fende / the flesshe / they bede Some with well and some with woo what may I do with a wycked wede To fyght ayenst thre enemyes soo whan I enforce me other whyles And thynke I wyll lyue a true lyue And forsake all batayles and gyles The worlde byddeth me batayle belyue And but I wyll vse wrethes and wyles The comen voyce is I shall not thryue Some me scorneth and at me smyles And counte me but a kynde caytyue But now I thynke withstondynge this To forfake falnesse withouten ende And restore that I toke amys And paye my dettes fayre and hende And to rewarde eche man his As reason is than wyll I spende And gyue myne almesse there nede is Mercy Iesu I wyll amende Deus . Man I haue sente the kyndly syght And vnderstandynge skyll and wytte To rule thy selfe by reason ryght As reherseth holy wryte That clerely sheweth the godly lyght How thou sholde deedly synne forsake And on that maner thou please me myght What ayleth the thus fro me to shake Worlde rychesse royall repayre In welth and thynges of Iolyte Fysshes / beestes / and byrdes of the ayre These thynketh me semely for to se That thynge that peressheth and dooth appayre Vnto the syght thus pleasynge be Well mayst thou wytte I am full fayre Of whome eche thynge hath this beaute But man as thou wytlesse were Thou lokest aye downwarde as a beest It behoueth the of me to here Foule spekynge is to the a feest I comforte the I make the chere And thou inwardly louest me leest I call the vnto me yere by yere Thou wylte not come at my request As fro thy foo thou fro me flees I folowe the fast and on the crye Thou wrappest the with all vanytes And thynke my speche to the but folye And a thynge that nought is thou wyltelese My Ioye that lasteth endlesse Man yet vyce leue and vertue chese And make amendes or that thou dye Homo . Swete Iesu none answere I can But ofte crye mercy with herte stable Alas for woo why is a man Worse than a beest vnreasonable All beestes sythen the worlde began In kyndly werkynge ben durable Saue onely I of wyll wan That do full many dedes dampnable I was made to knowe my maker And to loue hym ouer all thynge And I a sleper and neuer waker To take kynde knowynge of my kynge To tryfles haue I ben a great hede taker A songe of sorowe maye I synge For had I ben of synne a forsaker Of cryste sholde I haue ben some knowynge My ghoostly eyen ben full of duste Cursed couetyse hath blynded me They ben blodeshotten with fleshly luste That heuenly kynge maye I not se But lorde though I haue ben vniuste Through helpe of thy benygnyte I hope to rube awaye the ruste With repentaunce and grace of the And where that I haue afore this My wyll in worldly thynge haue spend From heus forwarde my purpose is Thy lawe to lerne to my lyues ende Thy .x. commaundementes truly Iwys Them to kepe I wyll me mende bende And there as I haue done amys Mercy Ihesu I wyll amende Deus . Man my mercy yf it be in thy mynde I haue the it shewed in many wyse Sythen the tyme thou fyrst synde Ayenst my commaundemente in paradyse In hell pryson whan thou were pynde For doynge of the deuylles deuyse Out of thy tene to betwynde Mercy and loue thyn helpe were thyse Mercy was thyn aduocat chefe That I for the toke flesshe and blode Loue made the to be soo lefe That I for the was rente on rode I suffred deth to chaunge thy grefe And vnto hell than downe I yode And brought the to blysse fro reprefe Man I haue ben thy frende full gode I become poore the ryche to make To make the whyte I was made reed My sorowe my sekenes made thyn to slake My hungre dyde bake thy blysfull breed I bonde my selfe my bondes I brake To gete the lyfe I suffred dethe What sholde I do more for thy sake To hele thy fote was hurte my hede Now yf thou thynke I myght more do For thy sake I am redy To dye agayne yf nede were therto Suche loue to the man had I I hyght the myrthes and Ioyes moo But thou arte moost thyn owne enmye For ought I bydde thou wylte do soo Man make amendes or thou dye Homo . Lorde whan I on thy pouerte aduerte And how wylfull thou were and fayne To suffre for my woundes smerte To slee my synnes thou were slayne Harder than yron is my herte That hath no pyte of thy payne Euer the kynder to me thou arte The more vnkynder I am agayne Why woldest thou lorde be slayne for me That am thyn enemy moost vnhende Syth no man hath more charyte Than deth to suffre for his frende By what skyll sholde thou so slayne be Syth I made me thrall to the fende I trespasser lorde why ne smote thou Now blessyd be thou withouten ende I se well lorde that thou louest vs For our profyte and not for thyne For what were thou the worse Iesus Though all we were in endles pyne Alas why be we so bycyous And so vnkyndly from hym declyne That is our god so gracyous And so lothe man soule to pyne But swete lorde as thou hast begon So let thy mercy forth extende Put thy crosse and thy passyon Bytwene my werkes worthy to be brende And thy dome that I may not shonne That houndes of hell come me not hende Who but the father sholde helpe the sone Mercy Iesu I wyll amende Deus . Man yf thou wylte my mercy gete Thrugh my passyon of moost vertue Why ceasest thou not me for to bete Eche daye on the crosse doost me newe With deedly synne on morowe at mete As tourmentours to me vntrue And namely with thy othes grete To swere thou wylte nothynge eschewe No lymme of me / nor thou derest Why sayest thou euyll ayenst good By my soule ofte tyme thou swerest By my body and by my blode With thy tongue thou me all to terest Whan thou arte wrothe and almoost wode Man with thyn vnkyndnes thou me derest More than they rente me on the rode Thou hast more pyte of thy too If it be hurte and a lytell blede And all that euer I dyd doo I suffred it for thy mysdede Whan thou arte taught that thou sholde do Of swerynge but whan it were nede Thou scornest them that sayeth so Thou takest to my byddynge no hede Loude lesynges on me thou makest Somtyme to wynne an halfe peny Whan to wytnesse thou me takest And yet thou forswerest the wylfully Byenge and sellynge thou not forsakest But vayne and false to swere me by Whan thou doest thus thy bale thou takest Man make amendes or that thou dye Homo . Swete Iesu how sholde I agayne saye But that I am a caytyfe and more curste That dooth on the curse euery daye with great othes and werkes worste And moche more the greueth than thay On caluary that flewe fyrste For had they knowen the for god veray To do the to deth they had not durste But I knewe the after my byleue That thou arte god omnypotent And I seace not the to greue well worthy am I to be shente How mayst thou lorde suffre to meue Of the traytours that the tourment Meruayle it is I do not myscheue Or am not kylled / drownet / or brent The erthe swalowed quycke Sathan and abyron for theyr synne And as I wene they were neuer so wycke As moost certyfefull mankynne In deedly synne men dye now thycke Dysease full grete now dooth begynne yet in my synne I stande and stycke Euyll custome is full harde to blynne I wolde be wanton and do euyll But I wolde none me reprehende But let me lyue after my wyll This was lefull somtyme I wende But now I se that it is skyll Suche lyght lorde thou haste me sende But I leue synne it wyll me spyll Mercy lorde I wyll amende Deus . Man of thy selfe it shall be longe If so be that thy soule be spylte Forgyue them that done the wronge And I shall forgyue the thy gylte And yf thou be of herte so stronge That in nowyse forgyue thou wylte But venge thy selfe with herte and tonge As a traytour thou shalte be spylte Thou getest no man the to saue That no mercy on other hace How maye thou of mercy craue And thou wylte graunte no man thy grace Mercyfull man shall mercy haue Fell folke I flee fro my face What example that I the gaue Whan deth I suffred no tent I race I prayed for them that me dyseased Though I myght a dampned them for aye And yf thou be a lytell dyspleased Thou cursed & varyest bothe nyght & daye For no techynge wylte thou be pleased To venge the is thy wyll alwaye Full foule sholde thou foos be fayled If thou myghtest as I on the maye Without cause ofte thou arte wrothe Vnto thy frendes vnkyndfully Whan they theteche and counseyle bothe To leue thy wrathe and thyn enuy With wordes great and spytefull othe Thou defendest thy soule foulye But the to lose I am full lothe Man make amendes or that thou vye Homo . Swete Iesu thynke thou made vs all And how kynde and propre it is to the On synfull men that to the call To haue mercy and pyte Thoughe I haue ben bytter as gall For thy great pyte haue mercy on me For thy loue that I neuer fall But kyndly in me charyte For I coude the people ken And speke with aungelles tongues clere And thought I delte amonge poore men My worldly goodes all in fere And though I dyde my body brenne For loue of the that bought me dere yet all this profyteth me not thenne In charyte but yf I were And I wote lorde it is more pleasynge To the Iesu my souerayne dere To loue the lorde ouer all thynge And be in charyte and accorde here With all my neybours by ryghtwyse delynge Than for to faste throughe out the yere And all the masses the preestes synge But yf I loue I am no comforte nere Alas why haue I wrothfull ben That loue of my herte was not hende I hated that neuer dyde me tene I loued not hym that me good lende I caste me no more to be kene To loue myn enemyes I wyll attende Shall I hym neuer curse I wene Mercy Iesu I wyll amende Deus . Man yf thou wylte of bates blynne And charyte kepe in euery chaunce My mercy sone thou mayst wynne So that thou do thy true penaunce Loke thyn herte be contryre within And be sory for thy mysgouernaunce What profyteth to shryue the of thy synne But thou in herte haue repentaunce Thou shewest and penaunce doost none For thy synne but thyn herte be sore For worldly losse thou makest mone Thou synnest and sorowest not therfore And yf thou were woo begone What bytter medycyne geuen the wore With Ioye thou woldest take it anone To bodely helth the to restore Thy soule with deedly synne is slayne And without sorowe thy synne thou telles To do suche penaunce thou arte not fayne As thy thryfte father the counselles Ne thou wylte neuer restore agayne Fals goten goodes that thou with melles Man thou must alwaye suffre payne Here for thy synnes or somwhere elles It is impossyble and may not be To passe fro Ioye to Ioye on hye Take the crosse and folowe me If thou wylte to blysse vp stye Sekenesse and all aduersyte what and it come suffre it pacyently Hate alwaye synne and fro it fle And make amendes or thou dye Homo . Lorde gyue me grace amendes to make For of myselfe me fayleth powere All deedly synne now I forsake And wolde do dedes that in defull were In this worlde sende me wo and wrake For all my synnes done in fere Who hath no sorowe here may quake Them that thou louest thou chastyse here For my sake .xxx. yere and moo Great trauayle here in erthe thou hadde Thy mother and thy apostles also In great dysease theyr lyfe they ladde In aduersyte and moche woo Euery good man sholde be gladde Syth that derlynge that with the dyde dwell Had suche aduersyte in her lyfe That herte may thynke or tongue can tell The payne the anguysshe and the stryfe That dampned haue in hell Than endlesse woo and sorowe be ryfe I wyll forsake my synnes fell And to a descrete preest the shryue In true penaunce is myne entent From hens forwarde my tyme to spende And kepe well thy commaundement For elles in hell fyre I shall be brende Royall repayre ryche robes and rent What may they helpe me at my ende But I the serue I shall be ●●ent Mercy Iesu I wyll amende Deus . Man do penaunce whyle thou maye Leest sodeynly I take vengeaunce Bydde I the not daye by daye For cause I wolde thou dyde penaunce Man I am more redy alwaye To forgyue thy misgouernaunce Whan thou of all thy frendes haste made assaye Thou shalte fynde none lyke to me Thou wylte amende ofte tymes thou sayed Agayne amendes no man may be Do true penaunce and I am payed From endles payne to make the fre For thy loue my lyfe I layed What frende sholde haue done so for the With sorowfull herte thy synne thou shryue And make amendes to thyn enemy If thou thus leue thy wycked lyue I wyll be therof gladde truely Thynke oftentymes of lothes wyne And tourne not to thy synne agayne Let no dyspayre downe the dryue Thynke on Peter and Magdalayne Man wype awaye thy wyckednesse And kepe my byddynge by and by And thou shalte haue in my palesse Worshyp withouten vylany No pouerte but all rychenesse Helth / strenth / and wysdome truely Thou shalte be full of all swetnesse And than to lyue dnd neuermore dye Homo . Graunte mercy Iesu croppe and rote Of al frenshyp for in none fayles Ayenst the I wyll not mote But as ofte as me euyll ayles I wyll fall downe flatte to thy fote To helpe me in ghoostly batayles Now wote I where I shall me hyde Whan I am stered to ony synne In the great wounde of thy ryght syde And be hertely hydde therin As in a toure there may I abyde For ought ye fynde can me ymagyn For all this worlde that is so wyde Therin is souerayne medecyn There may no wanhope make me care That haue of they aungelles so good To kepe me that I not mysfare And thy mother mywest of mode Lorde shende vs thy woundes then And than of mercy we may not mysse And than to helpe crysten men Now Iesu lorde thou vs wyshe That we with the may byde to blysse In Ioye and blysse withouten ende That to thy people ordeyned is That leue synne and them amende AMEN .

Thus endeth the communycacyon bytwene god and man . Enprynted at London in Fletestrete at the sygne of the Sonne by me Wynkyn de Worde

wynkyn de worde