University of Virginia Library

A storie translated out of Frenche.

In old tyme paste in Picardie, there dwelt an honest man,
Whose name the storie doeth not tell, what he was called than:
A wife he had, a house he helde, as Farmers vse to doo,
And lacked little for thesame, that did belong there too.
And as God sent hym suffisance, to rubbe for the life here lent,
So for to chere vnweldie age, faire children God hym sent:
Of whiche he had one moste in minde, a lad of liuly spreete,
Who with great care he kept to schoole, as for his youth was meete.
This boye to glad his fathers harte, in bookes set his delite,
And learnd to make a Latine verse, to reade and eke to write:
And for his Nature was enclinde, to studie learnyngs lore,
The better he aplied his schoole, he profited the more.
To make his schoole the sweeter seem, with Musicke mixed was,
The studie that he followd then, the tyme awaie to passe:
Good bookes were bought and instruments, greate charge was but smal let,
If that thereby the father might, the sonne some knowledge get.
In seuen yeres (as tyme it was,) this striplyng gan to taste,
Tyme well emploied, tyme driuen forthe, and tyme ill spēt in waste,
And made no small account thereof, but still sought more to haue,
Wherewith he to his father came, on knees this did he craue.
I haue quoth he defe father now, my childishe daies ore ronne,
And as I thinke, and you beleue, my boyes delites are donne:
And as my witte and grace hath seru'd, some learnyng haue I gote,
And as I knowe you loue me well, on me you should not dote.
I meane I should not still at home, vnder my mothers wing,
Be brought vp like a wanton child, and doe no other thing:
The worlde is wide, I want no witte, your wealth is not so greate,
But you maie thinke in some dere yere, I scarce deserue my meate.
And though your kinde and custome is, full fatherlike alwaie,
Yet should your sonne discretion haue, to ease you as he maie:
Wherefore to make your burthen lesse, let me goe seeke my happ,
And let no longer now your sonne, be lullde in mothers lapp.
The father wise well vnderstoode, his childs request at full,
And that the fethers of his youth, he thought awaie to pull:
(Before he gaue hym leaue to parte) by councell graue and sage,
Well boye quoth he now art thou come, vnto thy flowryng age.
Now art thou like the little wande, that bent and bound will bee,
Unto his hande or to his skill, that liste to maister thee:
Now are ripe yeres soone rotten made, now art thou apt to take,
Bothe good and badd, but cheefly things, that age bidds thee forsake.
And now large scope shall sone forget, what short rein learnd in schole
And thou that wisely wast brought vp, shall plaie the wanton foole.
Abrode as wilde harebrains are wont, newe taken from their booke,
And in a while laie all aside, nere after their on looke.
In eury place of thy repaire, thou shalt no father finde,
Nor scarce a freende to whō thou maiest, at all tymes sho thy minde:
But on Gods blessyng goe thy waie, thy wilde Otes are vnsowne,
Hereafter time shall learne thee well, things to thee now vnknowne.
The ladde his leaue and farewell tooke, well furnisht for the nonce,
And had about hym as I trowe, his treasure all at once:
To court he came all maisterlesse, and sawe what likt hym beste,
Of runnyng Leather were his shues, his feete no where could reste:
His bookes to blade and bucklar chang'd, he gaue ore scholars trade,
Where reuell roysted all in ruffe, there he his residence made.
This rule had soone his purse so pickt, that princoks wanted pence,
And oft he sawe some trussed vp, that made but small offence:
His father farre from seyng this, he come of honest stocke,
He hoffryng forthe a hatefull life, in many a wicked flocke.
And pricked oft to slipper shifts, yet some regard he tooke,
To be a sclander to his kinne, that kept hym to his booke:
And in a better moode to thriue, to seruice did he drawe,
He must goe that the deuill driues, ye knowe neede hath ro lawe.
A maister of no meane estate, a mirrour in those daies,
His happie Fortune then hym gate, whose vertues must I praise:
More heauenly were those gifts he had, then yearthly was his forme.
His corps to worthie for the graue, his fleshe no meate for worme.
An Erle of birthe, a God of sprite, a Tullie for his tong,
Me thinke of right the worlde should shake, when half his praise were rong:
Oh cursed are those crooked crafts, that his owne countrey wrought.
To chop of sutche a chosen hed, as our tyme nere forthe brought.
His knowledge crept beyond the starrs, & raught to Ioues hie trone
The bowels of the yearth he sawe, in his deepe breast vnknowne:
His witt lookt through eche mās deuice, his iudgemēt groūded was,
Almoste he had foresight to knowe, ere things should come to passe.
When thei should fall what should betied, oh what a losse of weight,
Was it to lose so ripe a hedde, that reached sutche a height:
In eury art he feelyng had, with penne past Petrarke sure,
A fashon framde whiche could his foes, to freendship oft alure.
His vertues could not kepe hym here, but rather wrought his harms,
And made his enemies murmure oft, & brought them in by swarms:
Whose practise put hym to his plonge, and loste his life thereby,
Oh cancred brests that haue sutche harts, wherin suche hate doth lye.
As told I haue, this yong man seru'd, this maister twise twoo yere,
And learnd therein sutche fruitfull skill, as long he held full dere:
And vsd the penne as he was taught, and other gifts also,
Whiche made hym hold the capp on hed, where some do croch full lo.
As credite came he carefull was, how to maintaine the same,
And made small count of life or death, to kepe his honest name:
His father not a little glad, of his good happ thus founde,
And he forgot no duetie sure, to whom he ought be bounde.
From court to warrs he wounde about, a Soldiours life to leade,
And leaned to the worthiest sort, their stepps to marche and treade:
And followd Cannon wheele as fast, to learne some knowlege then,
As he afore at maisters heeles, did waite with seruyng men.
But those twoo liues a diffrence haue, at home good chere he had,
Abroad full many a hongrie meale, and lodgyng verie bad:
All daie in corslet caled faste, whiche made his shulders ake,
All night vpon a couche of strawe, right glad his rest to take.
Through thicke & thin a thriftlesse tyme, he spent & felt mutch greef,
And euer hopyng for thesame, at length to finde releef:
No small while there as ye haue hard, in colde sharpe winter nights,
Where he did feele strange plags enowe, and sawe full vgly sights.
Some dy for lack, some seke for death, some liue as though ther were
Ne God nor man, nor torment here, or hence we ought to fere:
But yet he markt some of that sort, whose estimation stood;
Upon eche point of honest name, and things that semed good.
He sawe likewise how Fortune plaied, with some men for a while,
And after paid them home for all, and so did them begile:
A wearie of these wastyng woes, a while he left the warre,
And for desire to learne the tongs, he traueld very farre.
And had of eury langage part, when homeware did he drawe,
And could rehearsall make full well, of that abroad he sawe:
To studie wholie was he bent, but countreis cause would not,
But he should haunt the warrs againe, assignde thereto by lot.
And eke by hope and all vaine happ, procured to the same,
As though eche other glorie grewe, on warrs and warlike fame:
Without the whiche no worlds renowme, was worth a flye he heeld,
For that is honour wonne in deede, once got within the feeld.
Thus in his hed and hye consaite, he iudg'd that beste of all,
And thought no mouth for Suger mete, that could not taste the gall:
Good lucke and bad mixt in one cup, he dranke to quenche his thirste,
And better brookt the second warrs, then he did like the firste.
And lesse found fault wt fortunes freaks, time had so well him taught
At chances sowre he chāg'd no chere, nor at swete haps much laught:
In prison thrise, in danger oft, bothe hurt and mangled sore,
And all in seruice of his prince, and all awaie he wore.
In meane estate in office too, somtyme a single paie,
Some tyme fewe had so muche a weeke, as he was loude a daie:
When worlde waxt wise, & wealthe did faile & princes pride appald,
And emptie purse, and priuie plag's, for perfite peace had cald.
And kings and kingdoms quiet were, this man to court he came,
Newe from the giues with face and lookes, as simple as a Lame:
Freshe frō his enemies hands came he, where for his countries right,
He prisned was and forste to grant, a randsome past his might.
Sent home vpon a bande and seale, whiche is to strange a trade,
There to remaine till he for helpe, some honest shifte had made:
All spoiled cleane bare as the bird, whose feathers pluckt haue bin,
Bothe sicke and weake his colour gon, with cheeks full pale and thin.
The sight so strange or worlde so nought, or God would haue it so,
This man had scarce a welcome home, whiche made him muse I tro
His countrey not as he it left, all changed was the state,
But all one thing this man deseru'd, therein no cause of hate.
A carelesse looke on hym thei caste, savyng a fewe in deede,
Through warrs brought lawe for seruice sake, & felt therby his neede
Of suche as could a diffrence make, of drom and trompetts sounde,
(Frō  tabber  pipe & Maipole mirth,) their helpyng hands he founde:
And those that fauord feats of warre, and sauour tooke therein,
With open armes embraste hym hard, and said where hast thou bin.
But none of these could doe hym good, to set hym vp I meane,
His freends decaied his father dedde, and housholde broke vp cleane:
Craue could he not, his hart so hye, it would not stoupe to steale,
He scornde to serue a forraine prince, prefarryng common weale.
Aboue all other things on yearth, his countrey honourd he,
At home he likt more poore estate, then thence a lorde to be:
Where should he sue where rā those springs, could cole his feuer hot,
Where durst he mone or plaine for shame, where might releef begot:
But at the fountain or well hedde, yea at his Princes hande,
And in a fewe well couched lines, to make her vnderstande:
His cace his scourge, loe so he did, and boldly did he tell,
The same hym self vnto the Prince, who knowes the man full well.
And gracious words three tymes he gate, the fourth to tell you plain
Unfruitfull was things were straite laest, faire woords maks fooles full fain:
When prince nor countrey made no count, of hym nor of his cace,
And none of bothe would help hym home, of whō he sought for grace.
For whom and for their cause alone, in enemies hands he fell,
And for their right to warrs he went, as all men knowes full well:
And loste his blood for their defence, and for their quarell fought,
And for thesame full slenderly, lookte to and set at nought.
When he his duetie to his powre, did eury daie and yere,
Sutche vnkinde gwerdon had receiu'd, as well before you here:
He saied let Marcus Regulus in fame of Romains stande,
Whiche kept his othe and did retourne, againe to Carthage lande.
If Tullie were a liue to write, his praises, more at full,
Yet since I scapt my enmies hands, at home abide I wull:
He should not me perswade to goe, where nought but death is found,
My countrey cares not for my life, then why should I be bound.
To toies or any other bande, that I haue power to breake,
Whiche I was forced by my foe, in persone for to speake:
And for the hope of countries helpe, and freends that there I had,
In any sort to please my foes, I was bothe faine and glad.
Not mindyng if my countrey would, release me from his hande,
To breake good order any whitte, or violate my bande:
For iustice bids eche man doe right, which God doeth know I ment,
But now a captiue yeeld my self, it maie not me content.
For where that Tullie doeth affirme, men ought to keepe their othe,
Unto their freends in eury point, and to their enmies bothe:
And bryngeth Marcus Regulus, example for thesame,
With other reasons many a one, whiche were too long to name.
He shewed that the Senats all, would hym haue staied at Rome,
And as in counsaill then thei satte, their iugemeut and their doome.
Was that the prisners should be free, whiche thei of Carthage held.
And he should staye, full oft his freends, this tale to hym thei teld:
Thei proffred helpe, and offred still, this Marcus to redeeme,
But Marcus for a further skill, did little that esteeme.
I finde no succour hope nor aide, then bounde why should I be.
More to my countrey in this case, that countrey is to me:
These wordes this heauie man rehearst, so bade the warrs adue,
And thought he would no raunsome paie, for any thyng he knewe.
Wherefore from court he tournd his face, and so an othe he swore,
As long as he his fiue witts had, to come in court no more:
He kept that othe and cut his cote, as clothe and measure wold,
And doune to Picardie he comes, some saied at thirtie yere old.
And for his lands and rents were small, a maister lent he too,
Who vs'd his seruaunt not so well, as maisters ought to doo:
He was not made out of that mould, that his laste maister was,
These twoo in vertues were as like, as Gold was vnto Glasse.
Upon a daie alone he satte, and saied these words right sadd,
Are soldiours cast at carts arse now, that long faire words haue had:
Shall kyngs nere neede for helpe againe, is fortune so their freende,
Haue thei a pattent of the Gods, this peace shall neuer ende.
God graunt yet will I shift I trowe, for on or happ shall faile,
And in the stormes my ship shall learne, to beare a quiet saile:
And cleane forget braue daies agoe, that fed my youthfull yeres,
Full glad that I haue gotten home, and scapt the scrattyng Breers.
Of warrs and other worldly toiles, adue I see their fine,
A wife shall now content my mynde, suche as the Gods assigne:
A wooyng thus this haplesse man, rode forthe not set to sale,
Thought none like hym in this his suite, was meete to tell his tale.
And as the heauens had agreed, the Planetts well were bent,
He sone descended from his horse, and boldly in he went.
Where dwelt a sober widdowe then, bothe wise and wifly too,
Late fallen sicke, vnknowne to hym, that tyme vnfitt to woo:
But her discretion was so greate, and his behauiour bothe,
These straungers fell acqueinted thus, if ye will knowe the trothe.
He faind an other ernd to make, dissemblyng yet a space,
Till he might spie a better tyme, to shewe her all his cace:
So takyng leaue for freends he wrought, to bryng this thing about,
In suche affaires some spake full faire, that are full well to doubt.
For commonly men take no cars, of others sutes for why,
Their profite as thei gesse themselfes, in hindryng that maie ly:
Some promise helpe and see no gaine, maye spring to them thereof,
Waxe cold and slowe for lacke of spurre, and vse it as a scoffe.
An other sort with stingyng tongs, saie maistres take good heede,
This man will sone your feathers pull, and cast ye of at neede:
Will you that haue bothe wealth and ease, to yong mens cursie stand,
And let an other maister be, of that is in your hande.
Some seekyng rule of that she hath, and fleecyng from her first,
Doe faune and flatter all the daie, and guide her as thei liste:
And liue on her, and hate her life, and waite her death to see,
And well can please her while she liues, her sectors for to be.
Suche instruments these widowes haue, about them eury howre,
Perchance this man perceiu'd the like, and had good cause to lowre:
But as he knewe the fatall chance, of things comes from aboue,
So he began and sought to knowe, the fine of all his loue.
And found a daie full apt therefore, at large thesame he told,
And flatly this her aunswere was, she neuer marrie would:
If no newe thoughts fell in her minde, whereof no doubt she made,
Except she chose a wealthie man, that had a grounded trade.
To liue and had a hourd of gold, to keepe them bothe from dette,
Good sir quod she on riches sure, my minde is fully sette:
I can with ritches vertues make, vertue with want is bare,
I praie you come no more at me, thus answerd now ye are.
I would be lothe to hold you on, with wordes and meane in deede,
That neither you for all your sute, nor any yet shall speede:
He hearyng this hangde doune the hedde, and smilde to cloke his woe
A worde or twoo he after spake, and parted euen so.
The waie he rode, he curst hym self, for cruell death he cried,
And saied oh wretche thou liuest to long, to long here doest thou bide:
Not onely for this froward happ, but for all other chance,
At any tyme thou tookst in hands, thy self for to aduaunce.
Thy vertues ought if thei maie be, serues thee no whit at all,
Thy learnyng stands thee in no steede, thy trauell helps as small:
Thy knowledge sought in warrs abroad, at home doth thee no good,
Thy lāgage is but laught at here, where some would sucke thy blood
Thy Poetts vaine and gift of penne, that pleasurde thousandes long,
Hath now enough to doe to make, of thee a wofull song:
Thy freends that long a winnyng were, in court and countrey plain,
Doeth serue thee to as good a ende, as mirth doeth sicke mans pain.
Thy youth though part be left behinde, whose course yet is to ronne,
With bragge of showe or seemly shape, what bodie hath it wonne:
Thy honest life or manly harte, that through eche storme hath paste,
Thy reputation hardly wonne, what helps thee now at laste.
Thus to his chamber in his heate, he comes with fomyng mouthe,
And in his bloodie breast he felt, full many fitts vncouthe:
And on the bedde he laied hym doune, and for his Lute he raught,
And brake a twoo those giltlesse strings, as he had bin bestraught.
And ere he flang it to the walls, my plaiefeere fare thou well,
Saied he as sweete as Orpheus Harpe, that wan his wife from hell:
You Instruments eche one of you, keepe well your cace of woode,
And to the scrallyng eatyng wormes, I you bequeath as foode.
Up stept he to his studie doore, all that stoode in his waie
He brake and burnt bothe booke and scroull, and made a foule araie:
Some authours saie that could not be, his wisedome did asswage,
The inward passions of his minde, and heate of all his rage.
But well I wotte he did prepare, to part from freends and all,
And staied but till the Spryng came on, for leafe was at the fall:
Now all these stormes and tēpests past, this man had sutche a vaine,
When matter mou'd, and cause requierd, he went to warrs againe.
And studyng Fortune all a like, as haplesse people doe,
He fell straightwaies in enmies hands, and was sore wounded too:
But taken prisnar, promesd mutche, though little had too paie,
(A subtell shift to saue the life, and scape a bloody fraie.)
Yet still because he gallant was, and had some charge of men,
He held vp hedde, and in strange place, tooke mutche vpon hym then:
The enmie seyng this yong man, bothe well brought vp and trainde,
As one that kept sutche state and grace, as he deceipt disdainde.
And to be plaine (in eury point) vpon sutche termes he stoode,
As his dissent and ofspryng came, of hie and noble bloode:
Of gentill race he might make boste, but of so greate a stocke,
He could not vaunt for that deuice, was but a scorne and mocke.
Well by this meanes he was so likt, and made of eury where,
That all that lande rang of the fame, and brute that he did bere:
And so the Princes of that realme, to court did call hym tho,
Where he with feasts and triumphs greate, and many a courtly sho.
Past of the tyme, and grewe so farre, in fauour with the beste,
That he would plaie at Dice and Cards, and so set vp his reste:
For he had money when he would, and went so gaie and braue,
On credite that he finely wan, as mutche as he could craue.
And when to takers house againe, this prisner should repaire,
The greatest lords of all that soile, when he would take the aire:
Would in a maner waite at hande, to doe this prisner ease,
And well were thei of all degrees, that best this man could please.
A nomber of his nation then, of right greate wealthe and state,
By this mans worde & onely band, straight waie their fredome gate
For he was bounde for eury one, that taken were before,
And so did for their raunsome lye, and runnyng on the score.
And brauyng out the matter through, a Ladie of greate race,
In honest sort, and freendly meane, his freendship did embrace:
Who promesd hym, to set hym free, and helpe hym thence in haste,
But still about this prisner loe, a priuie gard was plaste.
Yea sutche a bande and daiely watche, as he might not disceiue,
Yet he had hope in spite to scape, awaie without their leaue:
And shapt to flye, and giue the slipp, if Fortune would agree,
The watche and ward, should be begilde, and prisner should goe free,
And as these things a doyng were, a man of mutche renowne,
Was taken after in the feeld, and brought so to the toune:
Where hearyng of this other wight, was askte if he did knowe,
The former persone namde before, that daiely brau'd it so.
He is quod he that last was caught, a lustie Soldiour sure,
A man that mutche hath felt of woe, and greate things can endure:
Of gentill blood and maners bothe, and wants but wealth alone,
What what sir knight, haue you said trothe, and is he suche a one,
Then shall he bye his braury dere, and paie therefore so well,
He shall not boste of that he gains, in heauen nor in hell:
So all in fuerie flang he forthe, and to this man he goes,
That was in deede so farre in debt, for meate for drincke and close.
And thrust hym in a prison strong, where feeble foode he had,
And heauie Irons whiche might make so sillie soule full sad:
His mistres knowyng of the cace, her promes thought to kepe,
So makyng in a Mooneshine night, when neighbours were a slepe.
She drue her nere the prison doore, and at a windowe wied,
Where planly full before her vewe, her seruaunt had she spied:
To whom she spake and told her mynde, as closely as she might,
And gaue hym councell in good tyme, to steale awaie by night.
And left hym files to sette hym free, and robes to doe hym good,
With some hard eggs and bread in bagg, and told hym nere a wood:
There was a brome, where she would wait, for him whē time drue on
That doen she toke a freendly leaue, for then she must be gon.
The prisner did deuise his beste, and bent to doe or dye,
Prepaerd eche thing in order well, as he on strawe did lye:
The tyme approcht, of his adue, and she was come in deede,
Unto the place appointed right, with gold and wealth for neede.
But breakyng doune a rotten wall, the prisner was in feare,
For out of bedde his keeper stept, and asked who was there:
With that the prisner stumbled on, a hatchet sharpe and keen,
And raught the gealer suche a blowe, that long was felt and seen.
He cried and rored like a bull, where at the vissage throwe,
Was vp and streight to horsebacke went, but loe the prisner nowe:
Was at the wood, where he had found, his mistres all a lone,
Who wept and blubberd like a child, and made so greate a mone.
For that thei bothe in daunger were, but what should more be saied,
The man pluckt vp his harte and sprites, the woman sore afraied:
Ran home againe to fathers house, and he that now was free,
Had neither minde on gold nor gift, but to the Brome goes he.
And there abode a happie howre, yea twoo daies long at least,
He laye as close on cold bare ground, as bird doeth in warme neast:
His mistres well escaped home, and in the house she was,
Before the crie and larum rose, so blamlesse did she passe.
And her poore seruaunt, had wide worlde, to walke in now at will,
Although he was in hazard greate, and long in daunger still:
For he had three score mile to goe, emong his enmies all,
Whiche he did trudge in foule darke nights, and so as happ did fall.
He scapt a scourge and scouryng bothe, and came where he desierd,
And finely had deceiu'd his foes, what could be more requierd:
Yet long at home he could not rest, to warrs againe he went,
Where in greate seruice sondrie tymes, but half a yere he spent.
And loe his Deastnie was so straunge, he taken was againe,
And clapt vp closely for a spie, and there to tell you plaine:
He was condemde to lose his hedde, no other hope he sawe,
The daie drewe on of his dispatche, to dye by Marciall lawe.
The people swarmyng in the streats, and scaffold readie there,
A noble Dame, his respite crau'd, and spake for hym so feare:
That then the maister of the Campe, his honest answere hard,
For whiche he came in credite streight, and was at length prefard.
To right good roome and wages too, then ritchly home he drewe,
And left the warrs, and in greate heate, he for a wife did sewe,
But haste makes waste, an old prouerbe, for he was wivd in deede,
God sende all Soldiours in their age, some better lucke at neede:
Now he bethought hym on the woords, the widdowe tolde hym of,
Whiche long he held but as a ieast, a scorne and merrie scoffe.
She saied that witte and wealth were good, but who a wiuyng goes
Must needs be sure of wealth before, els he his sute shall lose:
For want but breeds mislikyng still, and wit will weaue but woe,
(In louers lomes, where clothe is rackt, as farre as threde will goe)
And whē the threede of wealth doeth breake, let wit and wisedom too
Doe what thei can to tie the threede, the knot will sure vndoo.
The storie treats no morethereof, yet therein maie you see,
That some haue vertues and good witte, and yet vnluckie bee.
In winnyng wealth, in worldly happs, whiche common are of kinde,
To all and yet the vse thereof, but to a fewe a finde:
For some haue all their parents left, all thei them selues can catche,
And tenne mens liuyngs in one hande, and some haue nere a patche.
And some not borne to sixteene pence, finde twentie waies to get,
By happe yet some as wise as thei, no hande thereon maie sette:
I heard a white hoare hedded man, in this opinion dwell,
That witte with wealth, & hap with witte, would gree together wel.
But for to chuse the one alone, he held that happ was beste,
He saied witte was a happie gifte, but wealth made all the feaste:
Witte with the wise must companie keepe, then cold oft is his chere,
Wealth hath companions eury where, and banketts all the yere.
Wealth hath the waie the cappe and knee, and twentie at his taile,
When witte hath nere a restyng place, no more then hath a Snaile:
Wit is compeld to be a slaue, to wealth and serue hym still,
Yet wealth is naked wtout witte, nought worthe where lacketh skill.
But if that wealth maie match with hap, then bid fine wit goe plea,
Our old Prouerbe is giuen me hap, and cast me in the Sea:
Unhappie must I iudge this man, in sondrie sorts and waies,
Yet fortunate I call hym then, in true report of praies.
The cheefest Iewell of our life, is vertues laude well won,
Whiche liu's within the other worlde, when fame of this is doen: