11. BYCORNE AND CHYCHEVACHE.
[_]
[MS. Trin. Coll., R. 3. 20, pp. 10–15.]
Loo sirs þe deuise of a peynted or desteyned clothe
for an halle a parlour or a chaumbre / deuysed by
Iohan Lidegate at þe request of a werþy citeseyn of London /
ffirst þere shal stonde an ymage in poete-wyse
seying þees thre balades /
1
O prudent folkes, takeþe heed
And remembreþe, in youre lyves,
Howe þis story doþe proceed
Of þe housbandes and þeyre wyves,
Of þeyre acorde and of þeyre stryves
With lyf or deeþe, which to derrain
Is graunted to þees beestis tweyin.
And þane shalle þeer be purtrayed twoo
beestis oon fatte a noþer leene
2
Of Chichevache and of Bycorne
Treteþe hooly þis matere,
Whos story haþe taught vs here to-forne
Howe þees beestis, boþe in feere,
Haue þeyre pasture, as yee shal here,
Of men and wymmen, in se[n]tence,
Thorugh souffraunce or thorughe inpacience.
3
For þis Bicorne of his nature
Wil noon oþer maner foode
But pacient men in his pasture;
And Chichevache eteþe wymmen goode;
And booþe þeos beestes, by þe roode,
Be fatte or leene, hit may not fayle,
Lyke lak or plente of þeyre vitayle.
Þanne shalle þer be pourtrayhed a fatte beest called Bycorne of þe
cuntrey of Bycornoys and seyne þees thre balades filowing
4
Of Bycornoys I am Bycorne,
Ful fatte and rounde, here as I stonde,
And in maryage bonde and sworne
To Chichevage, as hir husbande,
Whiche wil not ete on see nor lande
But pacyent wyves debonayre
Which to hir husbandes beon [nat] contrayre.
5
Ful scarce, god wot, is hir vitayle,
Humble wyves she fyndeþe so fewe,
For alweys at þe countretayle
Þeyre tunge clappeþe and doþe hewe;
Suche meke wyves I beshrewe,
Þat neyþer cane at bedde ne boord
Þeyre husbandes nought forbere on worde.
6
But my foo[d]e and my cherisshing,
To telle pleynly, and not tarye,
Ys of suche folk whiche þer living
Dar to þeyre wyves be not contrarye,
Ne frome þeyre lustis dar not varye,
Nor with hem holde no chaumpartye;—
Alle suche my stomake wol defye!
Þanne shal be pourtrayed a companye of
men comyng towardes þis beest Bicorne and sey þees foure balades.
7
Felawes, takeþe heede and yee may see
Howe Bicorne casteþe him to deuoure
Alle humble men, boþe you and me,
Þer is no gayne vs may socour;
Wo be þer-fore, in halle and bour,
To alle þees husbandes, which þeyre lyves
Maken maystresses of þeyre wyves.
8
Who þat so dooþe, þis is þe lawe,
Þat þis Bycorne wol him oppresse,
And devowren in his mawe
Þat of his wyff makeþe his maystresse;
Þis wol vs bring in gret distresse,
For we for oure humylytee
Of Bycorne shal devowred be.
9
We stonden pleynly in suche cas,
Þat þey to vs maystresses be,
We may wel sing and seyne allas!
Þat wee gaf hem þe souereynte;
For we be thralle and þey beo fre,
Wher-fore Bycorne, þis cruell beste,
Wol vs devowren at þe leest.
10
But who þat cane be souereyne,
And his wyf teeche and chastyse,
Þat she dare not a worde geyne-seyne,
Nor disobeye no maner wyse,—
Of suche a man, I cane devyse,
He stant vnder proteccion
Frome Bycornes iurisdiccyoun.
Þanne shal þer be a womman deuowred ypurtrayhed
in þe mouþe of Chichevache cryen to alle wyves
& sey þis balade.
11
O noble wyves, beoþe wel ware,
Takeþe ensaumple nowe by me,
Or ellys, afferme weel I dare,
Yee shal beo ded, yee shal not flee;
Beoþe crabbed, voydeþe humylitee,
Or Chychevache ne wol not fayle
You for to swalowe in hir entrayle.
Þanne shal be þer purtrayhed a longe horned beest
sklendre and lene with sharpe teethe and on his body no thing saue skyn and boone.
12
Chychevache, þis is my name,
Hungry, megre, sklendre, and lene,
To shewe my body I haue gret shame,
For hunger I feele so gret teene,
On me no fattnesse wol beo seene,
By cause þat pasture I fynde noon,
Þer fore I am but skyn and boon.
13
For my feding in existence
Is of wymmen þat beon meeke,
And lyche Gresylde in pacyence,
Or more, þeyre bountee for to eeke;
But I ful longe may goon and seeke
Or I cane fynde a gode repaaste
A-morowe to breke with my faaste.
14
I trowe þer beo a dere yeere
Of pacyent wymmen nowe þeos dayes;
Who greueþe hem with worde or chere,
Let him be-ware of suche assayes;
For it is more þane thritty Mayes
Þat I haue sought frome lande to londe,
But yit oone Gresylde neuer I fonde.
15
I fonde but oone, in al my lyve,
And she was deed sith go ful yore;
For more pasture I wil not stryve
Nor seeche for my foode no more,
Ne for vitayle me to enstore;
Wymmen beon wexen so prudent
Þey wol no more beo pacyent.
Þanne shal þere be pourtrayhed affter Chichevache
an olde man with a baston on his bakke manassing
þe beest for þe rescowing of his wyff.
16
My wyff, allas! devowred is;
Moost pacyente and mooste peysyble,
Sheo neuer sayde to me amysse,
Whome haþe nowe slayne þis beest horryble,
And for it is an inpossyble
To fynde euer suche a wyff,
I wil lyve sool during my lyff.
17
For nowe of nuwe for þeyre prowe
Þe wyves of ful hyegh prudence
Haue of assent made þeyre avowe,
For to exyle Pacyence,
And cryed, “Wolffes heed obedyence!”
To make Chichevache fayle
Of hem to fynde more vitayle.
18
Nowe Chichevache may fast longe,
And dye for al hire cruweltee,
Wymmen haue made hem self so stronge
For to outraye Humylyte;
O cely housbandes! woo beon yee!
Suche as cane haue no pacyence
Ageyns youre wyves vyolence.
19
Yif þat yee suffre, yee beo but deed,
Þis Bicorne awayteþe yowe so soore,
Eeke of youre wyves yee stonde in dreed
Yif yee geyne seye hem any more;
And þus yee stonde, and haue doone yoore,
Of lyff and deeth bytwix[en] tweyne,
Lynkeld in a double cheyne.
