14. A BALLADE OF JAK HARE.
[_]
[From MS. Laud Misc. 683, leaves 54, back, to 56.]
Here gynneth a tale of froward Maymond
1
A ffroward knave pleynly to descryve,
And a sloggard schortly to declare;
A precious knave that castith hym neuer to thryve,
His mouth weel weet, his slevis riht thredbare;
A Turnebroche, a boy for Hogge of Ware,
With louryng face noddyng and slombryng,
Of newe crystened and callid Iakke Hare—
Wich of a bolle can plukke out the lynyng.
2
This boy Maymond ful styborne of his bonys,
Sloggy on morwen his lemes vp to dresse,
A gentel harlot chose out for the noonys,
Sone and cheeff eyr on-to dame Idylnesse,
Cosyn to Wecok, brother to Reklesnesse,
Wich late at eve and morwe at his rysyng
Ne hath no ioie to do no besynesse,
Saue of a tancard to plukke out þe lynyng.
3
A boy Chekrelyk was his sworen brother
Of euery dyssh a lypet out to take,
And Faffyntycol was also a-nother
Of euery brybe the caryage for to make,
And he can weell waytyn on an oven cake,
And of newe ale been at the clensyng,
And of purpos, his thrust for to slake,
Kan of a pecher plukke out the lynyng.
4
This knave be leyser wil don al his massage,
And holde a tale with every maner wight;
Ful pale dronken, weell vernysshed of visage,
Whos tonge ay faileth whan it draweth to nyht,
Of o-candell he weneth too were lyght;
As barkyd leder his fface ys schynyng;
Glasy-eied, wol cleyme of dewe right
Out of a bolle to plukke out the lynyng.
5
He can a bedde an hors-kombe weell shake,
Lyk as he wolde coraye his masteris hors,
And with his on hand his masteris doublet shake,
And with the tother preuyly kutte his purs;
Alle sweche knavis shul haue Cristys curs,
Erly on morwe at ther vprysyng;
To ffynde a boy I trowe ther be non wors
Out of a pot to plukke out the lynyng.
6
He may be sold vpon warantyse,
As for a truaunt that no thyng wil doon;
To selle hors prouendre is his chef marchaundise,
And for a chevesaunce can pluke of ther shoon;
And at the dys pley the mony soon,
And with his wynnyngis he maketh his offryng,
At the ale stakes, sittyng ageyn the moon,
Out of a cuppe to plukke out the lynyng.
Lenvoye.
Wassail to Maymond and to his Iousy pate,
Vnthryfft and he be to-gedre met;
Late at eve he wol onspere the gate,
And grope on morwe yif Riggis bak be wet,
And yif the bak of To-gace be out het;
His heuy nolle at mydmorwe vplyfftyng,
With on-wasshen handis, not lased his doublet,
Out of a bolle to plukke out the lynyng.
Explicit.
[_]
[Additional stanzas, probably spurious, from MS. Leyden Voss. 9, leaf 102.]
Off all thy warde thou art made officer,
That no man passe with-out licence off the;
Erly on morwe, er than the day be cleer,
Thou cast thy chenys, redy wolt thou be;
They be nat off iren nor off tree,
Thyn ars cheeff smyth on morwe at thi rysyng,
Weel the bett thou mayst thy cheyn lat flyee,
For off a bolle thou canst weel pluk out the lynyng.
And whan thou hast weel vernyssht thi pate,
To take a slap in hast thou wolt the dresse;
But wo is she that nyht shal be thi mate?
Thyn orgons so hihe be-gynne to syng thi messe,
With treble, mene & tenor discordyng, as I gesse,
That all the hogges that ben about lyggyng,
To syng with the they gyne them thedir dresse,
Which off a pott so well canst pluk tha lynyng.
Yitt wassaille, onys, & thynne be thi thriffte,
With all thi orgonys & thi melodye,
Ful weel a couppe of good ale canst thou liffte,
And drynk it off & leve the cuppe drye,
I wold thi chenys had chenyd vp the weye,
Be-twen the cuppe, whan thou art lyfftyng,
And thi mouth, for thou art euer redye
Out off a cuppe to pluk out the lynyng.
