 | Wynnere and Wastoure |  |
Bot than kerpede the kynge, sayd, ‘kythe what ȝe hatten
And whi the hates aren so hote ȝoure hertis bytwene
If I schall deme ȝow this day dothe me to here.’
‘Now certys lorde,’ sayde þat one, ‘the sothe for to telle,
I hatt Wynnere, a wy that alle this werlde helpis
For I lordes cane lere thurgh ledyng of witt.
Thoo þat spedfully will spare and spende not to grete,
Lyve appon littill-whattes I lufe hym the bettir.
Witt wiendes me with and wysses me faire,
Aye when gadir my gudes than glades myn hert
Bot this felle false thefe þat byfore ȝowe standes
Thynkes to strike or he styntt and stroye me for euer.
Alle þat I wynn thurgh witt he wastes thurgh pryde,
I gedir, I glene and he lattys goo sone,
I pryke and I pryne and he the purse opynes.
Why hase this cayteffe no care how men corne sellen?
His londes liggen alle ley, his lomes aren solde,
Downn bene his dowfehowses, drye bene his poles.
The deuyll wounder the wele he weldys at home
Bot hungere and heghe howses and howndes full kene.
Safe a sparthe and a spere sparrede in ane hyrne,
A bronde at his bede-hede biddes he no noþer
Bot a cuttede capill to cayre with to his frendes.
Then will he boste with his brande and braundesche hym ofte,
This wikkede weryed thefe that Wastoure men calles,
That if he life may longe this lande will he stroye.
Forthi deme vs this daye for Drightyns loue in heuen
To fighte furthe with oure folke to owthire fey worthe.’
And whi the hates aren so hote ȝoure hertis bytwene
9
‘Now certys lorde,’ sayde þat one, ‘the sothe for to telle,
I hatt Wynnere, a wy that alle this werlde helpis
For I lordes cane lere thurgh ledyng of witt.
Thoo þat spedfully will spare and spende not to grete,
Lyve appon littill-whattes I lufe hym the bettir.
Witt wiendes me with and wysses me faire,
Aye when gadir my gudes than glades myn hert
Bot this felle false thefe þat byfore ȝowe standes
Thynkes to strike or he styntt and stroye me for euer.
Alle þat I wynn thurgh witt he wastes thurgh pryde,
I gedir, I glene and he lattys goo sone,
I pryke and I pryne and he the purse opynes.
Why hase this cayteffe no care how men corne sellen?
His londes liggen alle ley, his lomes aren solde,
Downn bene his dowfehowses, drye bene his poles.
The deuyll wounder the wele he weldys at home
Bot hungere and heghe howses and howndes full kene.
Safe a sparthe and a spere sparrede in ane hyrne,
A bronde at his bede-hede biddes he no noþer
Bot a cuttede capill to cayre with to his frendes.
Then will he boste with his brande and braundesche hym ofte,
This wikkede weryed thefe that Wastoure men calles,
That if he life may longe this lande will he stroye.
Forthi deme vs this daye for Drightyns loue in heuen
To fighte furthe with oure folke to owthire fey worthe.’
‘Ȝee Wynnere,’ quod Wastoure, ‘thi wordes are hye
Bot I schall tell the a tale that tene schall the better
When thou haste waltered and went and wakede alle þe nyghte,
And iche a wy in this werlde that wonnes the abowte,
And hase werpede thy wyde howses full of wolle sakkes,
The bemys benden at the rofe, siche bakone there hynges,
Stuffed are sterlynges vndere stelen bowndes.
What scholde worthe of that wele if no waste come?
Some rote, some ruste some ratouns fede.
Let be thy cramynge of thi kystes for Cristis lufe of heuen,
Late the peple and the pore hafe parte of thi siluere,
For if thou wydwhare scholde walke and waytten the sothe
Thou scholdeste reme for rewthe in siche ryfe bene the pore.
For and thou lengare thus lyfe, leue thou noþer,
Thou schall be hanged in helle for that thou here spareste.
For siche a synn haste þou solde thi soule into helle
And there es euer wellande woo worlde withowtten ende.’
Bot I schall tell the a tale that tene schall the better
When thou haste waltered and went and wakede alle þe nyghte,
And iche a wy in this werlde that wonnes the abowte,
And hase werpede thy wyde howses full of wolle sakkes,
The bemys benden at the rofe, siche bakone there hynges,
Stuffed are sterlynges vndere stelen bowndes.
What scholde worthe of that wele if no waste come?
Some rote, some ruste some ratouns fede.
Let be thy cramynge of thi kystes for Cristis lufe of heuen,
Late the peple and the pore hafe parte of thi siluere,
For if thou wydwhare scholde walke and waytten the sothe
10
For and thou lengare thus lyfe, leue thou noþer,
Thou schall be hanged in helle for that thou here spareste.
For siche a synn haste þou solde thi soule into helle
And there es euer wellande woo worlde withowtten ende.’
‘Late be thi worde, Wastoure,’ quod Wynnere the riche,
‘Thou melleste of a mater tho[u] madiste it thiseluen.
With thi sturte and thy stryffe thou stroyeste vp my gudes
In [waytt]inge and in wakynge in wynttres nyghttis,
In owttrage, in vnthrifte in angarte pryde.
There es no wele in this werlde to wasschen thyn handes
That ne es gyffen and grounden are þou it getyn haue.
Thou ledis renkes in thy rowte wele ry[c]hely attyrede,
Some hafe girdills of golde þat more gude coste
Than alle þe faire fre londe that ȝe byfore haden.
Ȝe folowe noghte ȝoure fadirs þat fosterde ȝow alle
A kynde herueste to cache and cornes to wynn
For þe colde wyntter and þe kene with gleterand frostes
Sythen dropeles drye in the dede monethe.
And thou wolle to the tauerne byfore þe tonne-hede
Iche beryne redy with a bolle to blerren thyn eghne
Hete the whatte thou haue schalte and whatt thyn hert lykes
Wyfe, wedowe or wenche þat wonnes there aboute.
Then es there bott “fille in” and “feche forthe” florence to schewe
“Wee hee” and “worthe vp” wordes ynewe.
Bot when this wele es awaye the wyne moste be payede fore.
Than lympis ȝowe weddis to laye or ȝoure londe selle,
For siche wikked werkes wery the oure lorde.
And forthi God laughte that he louede and leuede þat oþer
Iche freke one felde ogh þe ferdere be to wirche.
Teche thy men for to tille and ty[n]en thyn feldes,
Rayse vp thi renthowses, ryme vp thi ȝerdes
Owthere hafe as þou haste done and hope aftir werse
Þat es firste þe faylynge of fode and than the fire aftir
To brene the alle at a birre for thi bale dedis.
The more colde es to come als me a clerke tolde.’
‘Thou melleste of a mater tho[u] madiste it thiseluen.
With thi sturte and thy stryffe thou stroyeste vp my gudes
In [waytt]inge and in wakynge in wynttres nyghttis,
In owttrage, in vnthrifte in angarte pryde.
There es no wele in this werlde to wasschen thyn handes
That ne es gyffen and grounden are þou it getyn haue.
Thou ledis renkes in thy rowte wele ry[c]hely attyrede,
Some hafe girdills of golde þat more gude coste
Than alle þe faire fre londe that ȝe byfore haden.
Ȝe folowe noghte ȝoure fadirs þat fosterde ȝow alle
A kynde herueste to cache and cornes to wynn
For þe colde wyntter and þe kene with gleterand frostes
Sythen dropeles drye in the dede monethe.
And thou wolle to the tauerne byfore þe tonne-hede
Iche beryne redy with a bolle to blerren thyn eghne
Hete the whatte thou haue schalte and whatt thyn hert lykes
Wyfe, wedowe or wenche þat wonnes there aboute.
Then es there bott “fille in” and “feche forthe” florence to schewe
“Wee hee” and “worthe vp” wordes ynewe.
Bot when this wele es awaye the wyne moste be payede fore.
Than lympis ȝowe weddis to laye or ȝoure londe selle,
For siche wikked werkes wery the oure lorde.
And forthi God laughte that he louede and leuede þat oþer
Iche freke one felde ogh þe ferdere be to wirche.
Teche thy men for to tille and ty[n]en thyn feldes,
Rayse vp thi renthowses, ryme vp thi ȝerdes
Owthere hafe as þou haste done and hope aftir werse
Þat es firste þe faylynge of fode and than the fire aftir
To brene the alle at a birre for thi bale dedis.
The more colde es to come als me a clerke tolde.’
‘Ȝee Wynnere,’ quod Wastoure, ‘thi wordes are vayne,
With oure festes and oure fare we feden the pore.
It es plesynge to the prynce þat paradyse wroghte,
When Cristes peple hath parte hym payes alle the better
Then here ben hodirde and hidde and happede in cofers
That it no sonn may see thurgh seuen wyntter ones,
Owthir freres it feche when thou fey worthes
To payntten with thaire pelers or pergett with thaire walles.
Thi sone and thi sektours ichone slees othere,
Maken dale aftir thi daye for thou durste neuer,
Mawngery ne myndale ne neuer myrthe louediste.
A dale aftir thi daye dose the no mare
Þan a lighte lanterne late appone nyghte
When it es borne at thi bakke, beryn, be my trouthe.
Now wolde God that it were als I wisse couthe
That thou Wynnere, thou wriche and Wanhope thi brothir
And eke ymbryne dayes and euenes of sayntes,
The Frydaye and his fere one the ferrere syde
Were drownede in the depe see there neuer droghte come,
And dedly synn for thayre dede were endityde with twelue,
And thies beryns one the bynches with [bonets] one lofte
That bene knowen and kydde for clerkes of the beste,
Als gude als Arestotle or Austyn the wyse,
That alle schent were those schalkes and Scharshull itwiste
Þat saide I prikkede with powere his pese to distourbe.
Forthi, comely kynge that oure case heris,
Late vs swythe with oure swerdes swyngen togedirs
For nowe I ‘se’ it es full sothe þat sayde es full ȝore
“The richere of ranke wele the rathere will drede,
The more hauande þat he hathe the more of hert feble”.’
With oure festes and oure fare we feden the pore.
11
When Cristes peple hath parte hym payes alle the better
Then here ben hodirde and hidde and happede in cofers
That it no sonn may see thurgh seuen wyntter ones,
Owthir freres it feche when thou fey worthes
To payntten with thaire pelers or pergett with thaire walles.
Thi sone and thi sektours ichone slees othere,
Maken dale aftir thi daye for thou durste neuer,
Mawngery ne myndale ne neuer myrthe louediste.
A dale aftir thi daye dose the no mare
Þan a lighte lanterne late appone nyghte
When it es borne at thi bakke, beryn, be my trouthe.
Now wolde God that it were als I wisse couthe
That thou Wynnere, thou wriche and Wanhope thi brothir
And eke ymbryne dayes and euenes of sayntes,
The Frydaye and his fere one the ferrere syde
Were drownede in the depe see there neuer droghte come,
And dedly synn for thayre dede were endityde with twelue,
And thies beryns one the bynches with [bonets] one lofte
That bene knowen and kydde for clerkes of the beste,
Als gude als Arestotle or Austyn the wyse,
That alle schent were those schalkes and Scharshull itwiste
Þat saide I prikkede with powere his pese to distourbe.
Forthi, comely kynge that oure case heris,
Late vs swythe with oure swerdes swyngen togedirs
For nowe I ‘se’ it es full sothe þat sayde es full ȝore
“The richere of ranke wele the rathere will drede,
The more hauande þat he hathe the more of hert feble”.’
Bot than this wrechede Wynnere full wrothely he lukes,
Sayse, ‘þis es spedles speche to speken thies wordes.
Loo! this wrechide Wastoure that wydewhare es knawenn.
Ne es nothir kaysser ne kynge ne knyghte þat the folowes,
Barone ne bachelere ne beryn that thou loueste
Bot foure felawes or fyve that the fayth owthe.
And he schall dighte thaym to dyne with dayntethes so many
Þat iche a wy in this werlde may wepyn for sorowe.
The bores hede schall be broghte with plontes appon lofte
Buktayles full brode in brothes there besyde
Venyson with the frumentee and fesanttes full riche
Baken mete therby one the burde sett
Chewettes of choppede flesche charbi[na]de fewlis
And iche a segge þat I see has sexe mens do[l]e.
If this were nedles note anothir comes aftir,
Roste with the riche sewes and the ryalle spyces
Kiddes clouen by þe rigge, quarterd swannes,
Tartes of ten ynche þat tenys myn hert
To see þe borde ouerbrade with blasande disches
Als it were a rayled rode with rynges and stones.
The thirde mese to me were meruelle to rekken
For alle es Martynmesse mete þat I with moste dele,
Noghte bot worttes with the flesche withowt wilde fowle
Saue ane hene to hym that the howse owethe.
And he will hafe birdes bownn one a broche riche
Barnakes and buturs and many billed snyppes
Larkes and lyngwhittes lapped in sogoure
Wodcokkes and wodwales full wellande hote
Teeles and titmoyses to take what hym lykes
[Caud]ils of connynges and custadis swete
[Dario]ls and dische-metis þat ful dere coste
[Maw]mene þat men clepen ȝour mawes to fill,
[Ich]e a mese at a merke bytwen twa men
[Þat s]othe bot brynneth for bale ȝour bowells within.
[Me t]enyth at ȝour trompers, þay tounen so heghe
[Þat ic]he a gome in þe gate goullyng may here.
Þen wil þay say to þamselfe as þay samen ryden,
Ȝe hafe no myster of the helpe of þe heuen kyng.
Þus are ȝe scorned by skyll and schathed þeraftir
Þat rechen for a repaste a rawnsom of siluer.
Bot one[s] I herd in a haule of a herdmans tong,
“Better were meles many þan a mery nyghte”.’
And he þat wilnes of þis werke for to wete forthe
Full freschely and faste for here a fit endes.
Sayse, ‘þis es spedles speche to speken thies wordes.
Loo! this wrechide Wastoure that wydewhare es knawenn.
Ne es nothir kaysser ne kynge ne knyghte þat the folowes,
Barone ne bachelere ne beryn that thou loueste
Bot foure felawes or fyve that the fayth owthe.
And he schall dighte thaym to dyne with dayntethes so many
Þat iche a wy in this werlde may wepyn for sorowe.
The bores hede schall be broghte with plontes appon lofte
Buktayles full brode in brothes there besyde
12
Baken mete therby one the burde sett
Chewettes of choppede flesche charbi[na]de fewlis
And iche a segge þat I see has sexe mens do[l]e.
If this were nedles note anothir comes aftir,
Roste with the riche sewes and the ryalle spyces
Kiddes clouen by þe rigge, quarterd swannes,
Tartes of ten ynche þat tenys myn hert
To see þe borde ouerbrade with blasande disches
Als it were a rayled rode with rynges and stones.
The thirde mese to me were meruelle to rekken
For alle es Martynmesse mete þat I with moste dele,
Noghte bot worttes with the flesche withowt wilde fowle
Saue ane hene to hym that the howse owethe.
And he will hafe birdes bownn one a broche riche
Barnakes and buturs and many billed snyppes
Larkes and lyngwhittes lapped in sogoure
Wodcokkes and wodwales full wellande hote
Teeles and titmoyses to take what hym lykes
[Caud]ils of connynges and custadis swete
[Dario]ls and dische-metis þat ful dere coste
[Maw]mene þat men clepen ȝour mawes to fill,
[Ich]e a mese at a merke bytwen twa men
[Þat s]othe bot brynneth for bale ȝour bowells within.
[Me t]enyth at ȝour trompers, þay tounen so heghe
[Þat ic]he a gome in þe gate goullyng may here.
Þen wil þay say to þamselfe as þay samen ryden,
Ȝe hafe no myster of the helpe of þe heuen kyng.
Þus are ȝe scorned by skyll and schathed þeraftir
Þat rechen for a repaste a rawnsom of siluer.
Bot one[s] I herd in a haule of a herdmans tong,
“Better were meles many þan a mery nyghte”.’
And he þat wilnes of þis werke for to wete forthe
Full freschely and faste for here a fit endes.
13
‘Ȝee Wynnere,’ quod Wastour, ‘I wote wele myseluen
What sall lympe of þe, lede, within [lit]e ȝeris.
Thurgh þe poure plenté of corne þat þe peple sowes
Þat God will graunte of his grace to growe on þe erthe
Ay to appaire þe pris and [it] passe nott to hye,
Schal make þe to waxe wod for wanhope in erthe
To hope aftir an harde ȝere to honge þiseluen.
Woldeste þou hafe lordis to lyfe as laddes on fote,
Prelates als prestes þat þe parischen ȝemes,
Prowde marchandes of pris as pedders in towne?
Late lordes lyfe als þam liste, laddes as þam falles
Þay þe bacon and beefe, þay botours and swannes
Þay þe roughe of þe rye, þay þe rede whete
Þay þe grewell gray and þay þe gude sewes
And þen may þe peple hafe parte in pouert þat standes,
Sum gud morsell of mete to mend with þair chere.
If fewlis flye schold forthe and fongen be neuer
And wild bestis in þe wodde wonne al þaire lyue
And fisches flete in þe flode and ichone ete oþer
Ane henne at ane halpeny by halfe ȝeris ende;
Schold not a ladde be in londe a lorde for to serue.
Þis wate þou full wele witterly þiseluen,
Whoso wele schal wyn a wastour ‘mo[st]e’ he fynde
For if it greues one gome it gladdes anoþer.’
What sall lympe of þe, lede, within [lit]e ȝeris.
Thurgh þe poure plenté of corne þat þe peple sowes
Þat God will graunte of his grace to growe on þe erthe
Ay to appaire þe pris and [it] passe nott to hye,
Schal make þe to waxe wod for wanhope in erthe
To hope aftir an harde ȝere to honge þiseluen.
Woldeste þou hafe lordis to lyfe as laddes on fote,
Prelates als prestes þat þe parischen ȝemes,
Prowde marchandes of pris as pedders in towne?
Late lordes lyfe als þam liste, laddes as þam falles
Þay þe bacon and beefe, þay botours and swannes
Þay þe roughe of þe rye, þay þe rede whete
Þay þe grewell gray and þay þe gude sewes
And þen may þe peple hafe parte in pouert þat standes,
Sum gud morsell of mete to mend with þair chere.
If fewlis flye schold forthe and fongen be neuer
And wild bestis in þe wodde wonne al þaire lyue
And fisches flete in þe flode and ichone ete oþer
Ane henne at ane halpeny by halfe ȝeris ende;
Schold not a ladde be in londe a lorde for to serue.
Þis wate þou full wele witterly þiseluen,
Whoso wele schal wyn a wastour ‘mo[st]e’ he fynde
For if it greues one gome it gladdes anoþer.’
Now quod Wynner to Wastour, ‘me wondirs in hert
Of thies poure penyles men þat peloure will by,
Sadills of sendale with sercles full riche.
Lesse [þat] ȝe wrethe ȝour wifes þaire willes to folowe
Ȝe sellyn wodd aftir wodde in a wale tyme,
Bothe þe oke and þe assche and alle þat þer growes.
Þe spyres and þe ȝonge sprynge ȝe spare to ȝour children
And sayne God wil graunt it his grace to grow at þe last
For to [schadewe] ȝour sones bot þe schame es ȝour ownn,
Nedeles saue ȝe þe soyle for sell it ȝe thynken.
Ȝour forfadirs were fayne when any frende come
For to schake to þe schawe and schewe hym þe estres
In iche ‘holt’ þat þay had ane hare for to fynde,
Bryng to the brod launde bukkes ynewe
To lache and to late goo to lightten þaire hertis.
Now es it sett and solde my sorowe es þe more,
Waste[d] alle wilfully ȝour wyfes to paye.
That are had [ben] lordes in londe and ladyes riche
Now are þay nysottes of þe new gett so nysely attyred
With [sy]de slabbande sleues sleght to þe grounde
Ourlede all vmbtourne with ermyn aboute
Þat es as harde, as I hope, to handil in þe derne
Als a cely symple wenche þat neuer silke wroghte.
Bot whoso lukes on hir lyre, oure lady of heuen,
How scho fled for ferd ferre out of hir kythe
Appon ane amblande asse withowtten more pride
Safe a barne in hir barme and a broken heltre
Þat Joseph held in hys hande þat hend for to ȝeme.
All þofe scho walt al þis werlde hir w[e]des wer pore
For to gyf ensample of siche for to schewe oþer
For to leue pompe and pride, þat pouerte ofte schewes.’
Of thies poure penyles men þat peloure will by,
Sadills of sendale with sercles full riche.
Lesse [þat] ȝe wrethe ȝour wifes þaire willes to folowe
Ȝe sellyn wodd aftir wodde in a wale tyme,
Bothe þe oke and þe assche and alle þat þer growes.
Þe spyres and þe ȝonge sprynge ȝe spare to ȝour children
And sayne God wil graunt it his grace to grow at þe last
For to [schadewe] ȝour sones bot þe schame es ȝour ownn,
Nedeles saue ȝe þe soyle for sell it ȝe thynken.
Ȝour forfadirs were fayne when any frende come
For to schake to þe schawe and schewe hym þe estres
In iche ‘holt’ þat þay had ane hare for to fynde,
14
To lache and to late goo to lightten þaire hertis.
Now es it sett and solde my sorowe es þe more,
Waste[d] alle wilfully ȝour wyfes to paye.
That are had [ben] lordes in londe and ladyes riche
Now are þay nysottes of þe new gett so nysely attyred
With [sy]de slabbande sleues sleght to þe grounde
Ourlede all vmbtourne with ermyn aboute
Þat es as harde, as I hope, to handil in þe derne
Als a cely symple wenche þat neuer silke wroghte.
Bot whoso lukes on hir lyre, oure lady of heuen,
How scho fled for ferd ferre out of hir kythe
Appon ane amblande asse withowtten more pride
Safe a barne in hir barme and a broken heltre
Þat Joseph held in hys hande þat hend for to ȝeme.
All þofe scho walt al þis werlde hir w[e]des wer pore
For to gyf ensample of siche for to schewe oþer
For to leue pompe and pride, þat pouerte ofte schewes.’
Than þe Wastour wrothly castes vp his eghne
And said, ‘þou Wynnere, þou wriche, me woundirs in hert
What hafe oure clothes coste þe, caytef, to by
Þat þou schal birdes vpbrayd of þaire bright wedis,
Sythen þat we vouchesafe þat þe siluer payen.
It lyes wele for a lede his lemman to fynde,
Aftir hir faire chere to forthir hir herte.
Then will scho loue hym lelely as hir lyfe one
Make hym bolde and bown with brandes to smytte
To schonn schenchipe and schame þer schalkes ere gadird.
And if my peple ben prode me payes alle þe better
To [s]ee þam faire and free tofore with myn eghne.
And ȝe negardes appon nyghte ȝe nappen so harde,
Routten at ȝour raxillyng, raysen ȝour hurdes.
Ȝe beden wayte one þe wedir þen wery ȝe þe while
Þat ȝe nade hightilde vp ȝour houses and ȝour hyne raysed.
Forthi, Wynnere, with wronge þou wastes þi tyme
For gode day ne glade getys þou neuer.
Þe deuyll at þi dede-day schal delyn þi gudis,
Þo þou woldest þat it were wyn þay it neuer,
Þi skathill sectours schal seuer þam aboute
And þou hafe helle full hotte for þat þou here saued,
Þou tast [no] tent one a tale þat tolde was full ȝore.
I hold hym madde þat mournes his make for to wyn,
Hent hir þat hir haf schal and hold hir his while.
Take þe coppe as it comes, þe case as it falles,
For whoso lyfe may lengeste lympes to feche
Woodd þat he waste schall to warmen his helys
Ferrere þan his fadir dide by fyvetene myle.
Now kan I carpe no more bot Sir Kyng, by þi trouthe,
Deme vs where we duell schall, me thynke þe day hyes.
Ȝit harde sore es myn [hert] and harmes me more
Euer to see in my syghte þat I in soule hate.’
And said, ‘þou Wynnere, þou wriche, me woundirs in hert
What hafe oure clothes coste þe, caytef, to by
Þat þou schal birdes vpbrayd of þaire bright wedis,
Sythen þat we vouchesafe þat þe siluer payen.
It lyes wele for a lede his lemman to fynde,
Aftir hir faire chere to forthir hir herte.
Then will scho loue hym lelely as hir lyfe one
Make hym bolde and bown with brandes to smytte
To schonn schenchipe and schame þer schalkes ere gadird.
And if my peple ben prode me payes alle þe better
To [s]ee þam faire and free tofore with myn eghne.
And ȝe negardes appon nyghte ȝe nappen so harde,
Routten at ȝour raxillyng, raysen ȝour hurdes.
Ȝe beden wayte one þe wedir þen wery ȝe þe while
Þat ȝe nade hightilde vp ȝour houses and ȝour hyne raysed.
Forthi, Wynnere, with wronge þou wastes þi tyme
For gode day ne glade getys þou neuer.
Þe deuyll at þi dede-day schal delyn þi gudis,
15
Þi skathill sectours schal seuer þam aboute
And þou hafe helle full hotte for þat þou here saued,
Þou tast [no] tent one a tale þat tolde was full ȝore.
I hold hym madde þat mournes his make for to wyn,
Hent hir þat hir haf schal and hold hir his while.
Take þe coppe as it comes, þe case as it falles,
For whoso lyfe may lengeste lympes to feche
Woodd þat he waste schall to warmen his helys
Ferrere þan his fadir dide by fyvetene myle.
Now kan I carpe no more bot Sir Kyng, by þi trouthe,
Deme vs where we duell schall, me thynke þe day hyes.
Ȝit harde sore es myn [hert] and harmes me more
Euer to see in my syghte þat I in soule hate.’
The kynge louely lokes on þe ledis twayne,
Says, ‘blynnes, beryns, of ȝour brethe and of ȝoure brode worde
And I schal deme ȝow this day where ȝe duelle schall,
Aythere lede in a lond þer he es loued moste.
Wende, Wynnere, þi waye ouer þe wale stremys,
Passe forthe by Paris to þe pope of Rome,
Þe cardynalls ken þe wele, will kepe þe ful faire
And make þi sydes in silken schetys to lygge
And fede þe and foster þe and forthir thyn hert
As leefe to worthen wode as þe to wrethe ones.
Bot loke, lede, be þi lyfe, when I lettres sende
Þat þou hy þe to me home on horse or one fote,
And when I knowe þou will co[me] he schall cayre vttire
And lenge with anoþer lede til þou þi lefe [take].
For þofe þou bide in þis burgh to þi ber[yinge-daye]
With hym happyns þe neuer a fote for [to holde].
And thou, Wastoure, I will þat þou wonn[e scholde]
Þer moste waste es of wele and wyng [þer vntill].
Chese þe forthe into þe chepe, a chambre þou rere,
Loke þi wyndowe be wyde and wayte þe aboute
Where any p[eti]t beryn þurgh þe burgh passe.
Teche hym to þe tauerne till he tayte worthe,
Doo hym drynke al nyȝte þat he dry be at morow,
Sythen ken hym to þe crete to comforth his vaynes,
Brynge hym to Bred Strete, bikken þi fynger,
Schew hym of fatt chepe scholdirs ynewe,
“Hotte for þe hungry” a hen oþer twayne.
Sett hym softe one a sege and sythen send after
[And] bryng out of þe burgh þe best þou may fynde
And luke thi knafe hafe a knoke bot he þe clothe spre[de].
Bot late hym paye or he passe and pik hym so clene
Þat fynd a peny in his purse and put owte his eghe.
When þat es dronken and don duell þer no lenger
Bot teche hym owt of the townn to trotte aftir more
Then passe to þe pultrie, þe peple þe knowes
And ken wele þi katour to knawen þi fode,
The herouns, þe hasteleteȝ þe henne wele [to] serue
Þe pertrikes, þe plouers þe oþer pulled byrddes
Þe albus, þ[e end]es þe egretes dere,
Þe more þou wastis þi wele þe better þe Wynner lykes.
And wayte to me, þou Wynnere, if þou wilt wele chefe,
When I wende appon werre my wyes to lede
For at þe proude pales of Parys þe riche
I thynk to do it in ded and dub þe to knyghte
And giff giftes full grete of golde and of sil[uer]
To ledis of my legyance þat lufen me in hert.
And sythen [k]ayre as I come with knyghtes þat me foloen
To þe kirke of Colayne þer þe kynges ligges....’
Says, ‘blynnes, beryns, of ȝour brethe and of ȝoure brode worde
And I schal deme ȝow this day where ȝe duelle schall,
Aythere lede in a lond þer he es loued moste.
Wende, Wynnere, þi waye ouer þe wale stremys,
Passe forthe by Paris to þe pope of Rome,
Þe cardynalls ken þe wele, will kepe þe ful faire
And make þi sydes in silken schetys to lygge
And fede þe and foster þe and forthir thyn hert
As leefe to worthen wode as þe to wrethe ones.
Bot loke, lede, be þi lyfe, when I lettres sende
Þat þou hy þe to me home on horse or one fote,
And when I knowe þou will co[me] he schall cayre vttire
And lenge with anoþer lede til þou þi lefe [take].
For þofe þou bide in þis burgh to þi ber[yinge-daye]
With hym happyns þe neuer a fote for [to holde].
And thou, Wastoure, I will þat þou wonn[e scholde]
Þer moste waste es of wele and wyng [þer vntill].
Chese þe forthe into þe chepe, a chambre þou rere,
Loke þi wyndowe be wyde and wayte þe aboute
Where any p[eti]t beryn þurgh þe burgh passe.
Teche hym to þe tauerne till he tayte worthe,
16
Sythen ken hym to þe crete to comforth his vaynes,
Brynge hym to Bred Strete, bikken þi fynger,
Schew hym of fatt chepe scholdirs ynewe,
“Hotte for þe hungry” a hen oþer twayne.
Sett hym softe one a sege and sythen send after
[And] bryng out of þe burgh þe best þou may fynde
And luke thi knafe hafe a knoke bot he þe clothe spre[de].
Bot late hym paye or he passe and pik hym so clene
Þat fynd a peny in his purse and put owte his eghe.
When þat es dronken and don duell þer no lenger
Bot teche hym owt of the townn to trotte aftir more
Then passe to þe pultrie, þe peple þe knowes
And ken wele þi katour to knawen þi fode,
The herouns, þe hasteleteȝ þe henne wele [to] serue
Þe pertrikes, þe plouers þe oþer pulled byrddes
Þe albus, þ[e end]es þe egretes dere,
Þe more þou wastis þi wele þe better þe Wynner lykes.
And wayte to me, þou Wynnere, if þou wilt wele chefe,
When I wende appon werre my wyes to lede
For at þe proude pales of Parys þe riche
I thynk to do it in ded and dub þe to knyghte
And giff giftes full grete of golde and of sil[uer]
To ledis of my legyance þat lufen me in hert.
And sythen [k]ayre as I come with knyghtes þat me foloen
To þe kirke of Colayne þer þe kynges ligges....’
| Wynnere and Wastoure | |