The Minor Poems of John Lydgate :: :: University of Virginia Library

Riht myhty prynce, and it be your wille,
Condescende leiser for to take,
To seen the content of this litil bille,
Which whan I wrot, myn hand I felte quake.
Tokne of mornyng, weryd clothys blake,
Cause my purs was falle in gret rerage,
Lynyng outward, his guttys wer out shake,
Oonly for lak of plate and of coignage.

2

I souhte leechys for a restoratiff,
In whom I fond no consolacioun,
Appotecaryes for a confortatiff,
Dragge nor dya was noon in Bury toun;
Botme of his stomak was tournyd vp-so-doun,
A laxatif did hym so gret outrage,
Made hym slendre by a consumpcioun,
Oonly for lak of plate and of coignage.

666

3

Ship was ther noon, nor seilis reed of hewe,
The wynd froward to make hem ther to londe,
The flood was passyd, and sodeynly of newe,
A lowh ground-ebbe was faste by the stronde;
No maryneer durste take on honde,
To caste an ankir for streihtnesse of passage,
The custom skars as folk may vndirstonde,
Oonly for lak of plate and of coignage.

4

Ther was no tokne sent doun from the Tour,
As any gossomer the countirpeys was liht;
A ffretyng etyk causyd his langour
By a cotidian whi[c]h heeld hym day and nyht;
Sol and Luna were clypsyd of ther liht,
Ther was no cros, nor preent of no visage,
His lynyng dirk, ther wer no platys briht,
Oonly for lak and scarsete of coignage.

5

Harde to likke hony out of a marbil stoon,
For ther is nouthir licour nor moisture;
An ernest grote, whan it is dronke and goon,
Bargeyn of marchauntys, stant in aventure;
My purs and I be callyd to the lure
Off indigence, our stuff leyd in morgage.
But ye, my Lord, may al our soor recure,
With a receyt of plate and of coignage.

6

Nat sugre-plate, maad by thappotecarye,
Plate of briht metal, yevith a mery soun,
In Boklerys-bury is noon such letuary.
Gold is a cordial, gladdest confeccioun,

667

A-geyn etiques of oold consumpcioun,
Aurum potabile for folk ferre ronne in age,
In quynt-essence best restauracioun
With siluer plate, enprentyd with coignage.

[Lenvoye.]

7

O seely bille, why art thu nat ashamyd,
So malapertly to shewe out thy constreynt?
But pouert hath so nyh thy tonne attamyd
That nichil habet is cause of thy compleynt.
A drye tisyk makith oold men ful feynt;
Reediest weye to renewe ther corage,
Is a fressh dragge, of no spycis meynt,
But of a briht plate, enpreentyd with coignage.

8

Thu mayst afferme, as for thyn excus,
Thy bareyn soyl is sool and solitarye;
Of cros nor pyl ther is no reclus,
Preent nor impressioun in al thy seyntuarye.
To conclude breefly, and nat tarye,
Ther is no noyse herd in thyn hermytage,
God sende soone a gladdere letuarye
With a cleer soun of plate and of coignage.

Explicit quod Lydgate.