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 | Cambridge Middle English Lyrics |  |
49. O Mosy Quince
Chaucer.
O mosy Quince hangyng by your′ stalke
The whyche noman dar′ pluk away ner take
Of all the folk that passe forby or walke
Your′ flowres fresshe be fallyn away and shake
I am ryght sory masteras for your sake
Ye seme a thyng that all men haue forgotyn
Ye be so rype ye wex almost rotyn
The whyche noman dar′ pluk away ner take
Of all the folk that passe forby or walke
Your′ flowres fresshe be fallyn away and shake
I am ryght sory masteras for your sake
Ye seme a thyng that all men haue forgotyn
Ye be so rype ye wex almost rotyn
Wyne women worshyp vnweldy age
Make men to fonne for lak in theyr′ resons
Elde causeth dulnesse and dotage
And worshyp chaunge of condicions
Excesse of wyne blyndeth theyr′ dyscrecions
And all bookes that poetes made & radde
Seyen women most make men madde
Make men to fonne for lak in theyr′ resons
Elde causeth dulnesse and dotage
And worshyp chaunge of condicions
Excesse of wyne blyndeth theyr′ dyscrecions
And all bookes that poetes made & radde
Seyen women most make men madde
Your′ vgly chere deynous & froward
Your′ grene eyen frownyng and nat glad
Yowre chekes enbonyd lyke a melow costard
Colour of Orenge your brestys satournad
Gylt opon warantyse the colour wyll nat fade
Bawsyn buttockyd belyed lyke a toune
Men cry seynt Barbara at lowsyng of your goune
Your′ grene eyen frownyng and nat glad
Yowre chekes enbonyd lyke a melow costard
Colour of Orenge your brestys satournad
Gylt opon warantyse the colour wyll nat fade
41
Men cry seynt Barbara at lowsyng of your goune
My louely lewde masterasse take consideracion
I am so sorowfull there as ye be absent
The flowre of the barkfate þe fowlyst of all the nacion
To loue yow but a lytyll hit myne entent
The swert hath y swent yow the smoke hath yow shent
I trowe ye haue be layde opon som kylne to dry
Ye do me so moche worshyp there as ye be present
Of all wemen I loue yow best . a thowsand tymes fy.
I am so sorowfull there as ye be absent
The flowre of the barkfate þe fowlyst of all the nacion
To loue yow but a lytyll hit myne entent
The swert hath y swent yow the smoke hath yow shent
I trowe ye haue be layde opon som kylne to dry
Ye do me so moche worshyp there as ye be present
Of all wemen I loue yow best . a thowsand tymes fy.
Explicit
| Cambridge Middle English Lyrics | |