%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Saint Bernards Vision. / OR, / A briefe Discourse (Dialogue-wise) betweene the Soule and the Body of a dam- / ned man newly deceased, laying open the faults of each other: With a speech / of the Divels in Hell. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1602-1602 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/22/2011 30253

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

S115289 10 UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN UNKNOWN Fortune my Foe Fortune my Foe Fortune My Foe the same tune Fortune my Foe The Same Tune AS I lay slumbering in my Bed one Night, / A fearefull Uision did me sore affright: MOst wretched flesh, which in thy time of life / Wast foolish, idle, vaine, and full of strife; Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 376 1: 377 Saint Bernards Vision. / OR, / A briefe Discourse (Dialogue-wise) betweene the Soule and the Body of a dam- / ned man newly deceased, laying open the faults of each other: With a speech / of the Divels in Hell. Saint Bernards Vision. OR, A briefe Discourse (Dialogue-wise) betweene the Soule and the Body of a dam- ned man newly deceased, laying open the faults of each other: With a speech of the Divels in Hell. Saint Bernard's Vision. OR, A brief Discourse (Dialogue-wise) between the Soul and the Body of a damned man newly deceased, laying open the faults of each other: With a speech of the Devils in Hell. 1602-1602 I. Wright

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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Saint <hi rend="bold">Bernards</hi> Vision.</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">OR,</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">A briefe Discourse (Dialogue-wise) betweene the Soule and the Body of a dam-</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">ned man newly deceased, laying open the faults of each other: With a speech</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">of the Divels in Hell. To the Tune of, <hi rend="bold">Fortune my Foe.</hi></hi></seg>
The Writer speaketh. AS I lay slumbring in my Bed one Night, A fearefull Vision did me sore affright: Me thought I saw a Soule departed late, By it the Body, in a poore estate. Wailing with sighes, the Soule aloud did cry Upon the Body, in the Coffin by: And thus the Soule to it did make her moane, With grievous sobs, and many a bitter groane. The Soule speaketh. O sinfull Flesh, which now so low doth lye, Whom yesterday the World esteemd so hye; It was but yesterday the World was thine, Thy Sunne is set, which yesterday did shine. Where is that Traine that did attend on thee? Where is thy Mirth? where is thy Jollitie?Where are thy sumptuous Buildings, and thy Treasure?Thy pleasant Walks, in which thou tookst such pleasure? Gone is thy Traine, thy Mirth to mourning turnd, Thou in a Coffin in thy Shrine art Urnd:For thy rich Clothes, thou hast a Winding-sheet, Thy high-built Roofe now with thy Nose doth meet. But I (poore Soule) was framd a noble creature, In likenesse to my God, of heavenly feature:But by thy sinne, whilst we on Earth aboade, I am made fouler than a loathsome Toade. O wretched Flesh, with me that art forlorne,That well mayst wish thou never hadst bin borne; Thou never wouldst to any good agree, For which we evermore shall damned bee. I am and must forever be in paine, No tongue can tell the torments I sustaine; Both thou and I, we must descend to Hell, [W]here we in frying flames for aye must dwell.
It was thy Pride, Deceit, and Luxurie, Hath brought these torments both on me and thee; Thy Wife, thy Children, Friends, which thou didst trust, Doth loath thy Carcas, lying in the Dust. The Booke of God, which is both true and sure, Witnesse at large what sinners shall endure:Thou that within thy Bed of Earth art layd, Arise, and answer to these things I sayd. The Body answereth. I know thee well, my Soule, which from me fled, Which left my Body senselesse, cold, and dead:Cease then to say, the fault was all in mee, When I will prove the fault was most in thee. Thou sayst, that I have led thee oft astray, And from well-doing drawne thee quite away, But if the Flesh the Spirits power can move, The fault is thine, as I will plainly prove. God you doe know, created thee most faire, And of Celestiall knowledge gave you share:I was your servant, formd of Durt and Clay; You to command, and I for to obay. Twas in your power for to restraine my will, And not to let me doe those things were ill. The Bodies workes be from the Soule derided, And by the Soule the Body should be guided. The Body of it selfe none ill hath knowne:If I did what thou bidst, the guilts thine owne:For without thee, the Body resteth dead; The Soule commands it rests upon thy head. So to conclude, thy guilt exceedeth mine; Oh, how the wormes doe teare me in my Shrine! And therefore fare thou well, poore sinfull Soule, Whose trespasses passe mine, though they are foule.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The second part. To the same tune.</hi></seg>
The Soule answereth. MOst wretched Flesh, which in thy time of life Wast foolish, idle, vaine, and full of strife; Though of my substance thou didst speake to me, I doe confesse I should have bridled thee. But thou through love of pleasure foule and ill, Still me resisted and would have thy will:When I would thee (O Body) have controld, Straight the worlds vanities did thee with-hold. So thou of me didst get the upper hand, Inthralling mee in worldly pleasures band, That thou and I eternall shall be drownd In Hell, when glorious Saints in Heaven are crownd. But flattring fancies did thy mind so please, Thou never thought to dye, till death did seaze: This was thy fault, and cursed is our fate, Which we repent, but now alas too late. The Body speaketh. Oh now I weep being scourgd with mine owne rod, Wee both stand guilty fore the face of God:Both are in fault, and yet not equally, The greatest burthen (Soule) on thee doth lye. No wit so meane, but this for truth it knowes, That where most gifts of vertue God bestowes. There most is due, and ought repayed bee; And unto this theres none but will agree. But foolishly thou yeeldedst unto mee, And to my vaine desires didst soone agree; But (oh) I know that at the latter houre, Both thou and I shall find a death most soure. I greatly feare an everlasting fire, Yet one thing more of thee I doe desire:Hast thou been yet amongst the fiends of Hell?Is no hope left, that we with Christ may dwell?
The Soule answereth. Fond flesh, remember Dives was denayd, When for one drop of water so he prayd:Thy question (senselesse Body) wanteth reason, Redemption now is hopelesse, out of season. Vile Body goe, and rot in bed of Clay, Untill the great and generall Judgement day:Then shalt thou rise and be with me condemnd, To Hells hot lake, for ever without end. So fare thou well, I must no longer stay, Harke how the fiends of Hell call mee away:The losse of Heavenly joyes tormenteth mee More than all tortures that in Hell can be. The Divells speake. Ho, are you come, whom we expected long? Now we will make you sing another song:Howling and yelling still shall be your note, And molten lead be powred downe your throat. Such horror wee doe on our servants load, Now thou art worse than is the crawling Toad:Ten thousand thousand torments thou shalt bide, When thou in flaming Sulphure shalt be fride. Thou art a souldier of our campe enrold, Never henceforth shalt thou the light behold: The paines prepard for thee no tongue can tell, Welcome, O welcome to the pit of Hell. The Writer speaketh. At this the groaning Soule did weepe most sore, And then the fiends with joy did laugh and roare:These Divells seemd more blacke than pitch or night, Whose horrid shapes did sorely me affright. Sharpe steely forkes each in his hand did beare, Tusked their teeth, like crooked mattocks were, Fire and Brimstone then they breathed out, And from their nostrils Snakes crawld round about. Foule filthy hornes on their blacke browes they wore, Their nayles were like the tushes of a Bore:Those fiends in chaines fast bound this wretched Soule, And dragd him in, who grievously did howle. Then straight me thought appeared to my sight A beautious young man, cloathed all in white, His face did shine, most glorious to behold, Wings like the Raynebow, and his hayre like Gold. With a sweet voyce, All haile, all haile (quoth he) Arise and write what thou didst heare and see:Most heavenly musicke seemed then to play, And in a cloud he vanisht quite away. Awaking straight, I tooke my pen in hand, To write these lines the yong man did command, And so into the world abroad it sent, That each good Christian may in time repent. Then let us feare the Lord both night and day, Preserve our Soules and Bodies wee thee pray, Grant that we may so run this mortall race, That wee in Heaven may have a resting place. Preserve the King, the Queene and Progeny, The Clergy, Councell, and Nobility, Preserve our soules, O Lord, we doe thee pray, Amen, with me let all good Christians say.
FINIS. Printed at London for J. Wright, dwelling in Gilt-spur street.