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The Parson.

HAT, John Bon! good morowe to the !

John Bon.
Nowe good morowe, mast Parson, so mut I thee.

Parson.
What meanest thou, John, to be at worke so sone ?

John.
The zoner I begyne, the zoner shall I have done ;
For I tende to warke rio longer then none.

Parson. Mary, John, for that God's blessinge on thy herte; For surely some therbe wyl go to ploughe an carte, And set not by thys holy Corpus Christi even.

John. They aer the more to blame, I swere by saynt Steven. But tell me, mast Parson, one thinge, and you can; What saynt is Copsi Cursty, a man or a woman ?

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Parson. Why, John, knoweste not that? I tell the it was a man. It is Christe his own selfe, and to morowe is hys daye; We beare hym in prosession, and thereby knowe it ye maye.

John. I knowe, mast Parson ? and na, by my faye: But me thinke it is a mad thinge that ye saye, That it should be a man; howe can it come to passe ? Because ye maye hym beare with so smal a glasse.

Parson.
Why, neybor John, and art thou nowe there?
Nowe I maye perceyve ye love thys newe geare.

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John. God's forbod, master, I should be of that facion ; I question wy your mashippe in waye of cumlication. A playne man, ye may se, wil speake as cometh to

mind;

Ye muste hold us ascused, for plowemen be but blynd.
I am an elde felowe of fifty wynter and more,
And yet, in all my lyfe, I knewe not this before.

Parson.
No dyd? why sayest thou so ? upon thy selfe thou

lyest:

Thou haste ever knowen the sacramente to be the body

of Christ.

John.
Ye

syr, ye say true; all that I know in dede;
And yet, as I remember, it is not in my crede.
But as for Cropsy Cursty to be a man or no,
I knewe not tyll thys day, by the waye my soule

shal to.

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Parson. Why, folishe felowe, I tel the it is so ; For it was so determined by the churche longe ago: It is both the sacramente and very Christ him selfe.

John. No spleaser, mast Parson; then make ye Christe an

elfe, And the maddest made man that ever body sawe.

Parson.

What? peace, mad man! thou speakeste lyke a dawe. It is not possible hys manhode for to se

John.

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Why, sir, ye tell me it is even verye he;
And if it be not his manhode, his godhed it must be.

Parson.

I tell the, none of both; what meaneste thou, art thou

mad?

John. No, nother mad nor drunke, but to learne I am glade: But to displease your mashippe I woulde be very loth. Ye graunt me here playnly, that it is none of boeth ; Then it is but a cake, but I pray ye be not wroth.

Parson.

Wroth, quod ha! by the masse, (thou makest me

swere an other) I hade lever wyth a docter of divinitie to reason, Then with a stubble cur that eateth beanes and peason.

John. I crie ye mercye, mast Person ; pacience for a season ! In all thys cumlicacion is nother felony nor treason. 51

Parson.

No, by the masse, but herest thou ? it is playne heresye.

John. I am glade it chaunced so, theyr was no witnes by; And if ther had I cared not, for ye spake as yl as I.

I speake but as I harde you saye, I wot not what ye

thought; Ye sayd it was not God, nor man, and made it worsse then nought.

Parson.
I ment not so; thou tokeste me wronge.

John. A, sir! ye singe another songe ; I dare not reason wyth you longe. well nowe, ye

have a knacke To saye a thynge and then go backe.

I se

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Parson.
No, John; I was but a littyll over sene.
But thou mentest not good fayeth, I wene,
In all thys talke that was us betwene.

John.
I? no, trowe, it shannot so beene
That John Bon shall an heretike be calde:
Then myght he laye him so fowle befalde.

Parson.
But

nowe, if thou wylt marke me welle,
From begynnynge to endynge I wyl the tell
Of the godly service that shalbe to morowe;
That, or I have done, no doubte thou wylt sorowe

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