University of Virginia Library

[To dyspyse poore folke is not my appetite]

Prologue of Robert Copland copyier and prynter of this boke.

Here begynneth the casualyte
Of the entraunce into hospytalyte

Copland.
Porter sayd I/gods blyssyng and our lady
Haue ye for spekyng so curteysly
To these poore folke/and god his soule pardon
That for theyr sake/made this foundacyon
But syr I pray you/do ye lodge them all
That do aske lodgyng in this hospytall?

Porter.
Forsoth yea/we do all suche folke in take
That do aske lodgyng for our lordes sake
And in dede it is our custome and vse
Somtyme to take in/and some to refuse.

Copland.
Than is it comyn to euery wyght
How they lyue all day, to lye here at nyght
Is losels/myghty beggers/and vacabonds
And trewands that walke ouer the londs
Mychers, hedgecrepers/fylloks and luskes
That all the somer kepe dyches and buskes
Lewtryng and wandryng fro place to place
And wyll not work/but the bypaths trace
And lyue with Haws, and hunt the blakbery
And with hedge brekyng make themself mery
But in the wynter they draw to the towne
And wyll do nothyng/but go vp and down
And all for lodgyng that they haue here by nyght
Me thynk that therin ye do no ryght
Nor all suche places of hospytalyte
To confort people of suche iniquyte.
But syr I pray you/of your goodnes and fauour
Tell me which ye leaue/& which ye do socour?
For I haue sene at sondry hospytalles
That many haue lyen dead without the walles
And for lacke of socour haue dyed wretchedly
Unto your foundacyon/I thynke contrary
Moche people resorte here/and haue lodgyng
But yet I maruell greatly of one thyng
That in the nyght so many lodge without?
For in the watche whan that we go about
Under the stalles, in porches and in doores
I wote not whither they be theues or hoores
But surely euery nyght there is found
One or other lyeng by the pound
In the shepe cootes/or in the hey loft
And at saynt Barthylmews chyrch doore full oft
And euen here alway by this brycke wall
we do them fynd, that do bothe chyde and brall
And lyke as beastes/togyder they be throng
Bothe lame and seke/and hole them among
And in many corners where that we go
wherof I wondre greatly why they do so
But oftymes whan that they vs se
They do ren̄e a great deale faster than we.

Porter.
Suche folkes be they that we do abiect
We are not bound to haue to them aspect
Those be mychers, that lyue in trewandyse,
Hospytalyte dooth them alway despyse.

Copland.
Syr I pray you, who hath of you relefe?

Porter.
Forsoth they that be at suche myschefe
That for theyr lyuyng can do no labour
And haue no frendes to do them socour
As old people/seke/and impotent
Poore women in chyldbed haue here easement
Weyke men sore wounded by great vyolence
And sore men eaten with pockes and pestylence
And honest folke fallen in great pouerte
By myschaunce or other infyrmyte
Way faryng men, and maymed souldyours
Haue theyr relyef in this poore hous of ours
And all other which we seme good and playne
Haue here lodgyng for a nyght or twayne
Bedred folke/and suche as can not craue
In these places/moost relyef they haue
And yf they hap/within our place to dye
Than are they buryed/well and honestly
But not euery vnseke stoborne knaue
For than we shold ouer many haue.

Copland.
How say you by these comyn beggers that crye
Dayly on the worlde/and in the hye wayes lye
At westmynster/and at saynt Poules
And in all stretes they syt as desolate soules
Me thynke it it a very well done dede
With deuocyon suche people to fede

Porter.
Where ony gyueth almesse with good entent
The rewarde can not be no wyse mysspent

Copland.
Ye but syr I wyll not lye by my soule
As I walked to the chyrche of saynt Poule
There sate beggers: on eche syde the way two
As is seen dayly, they be wont to do
Syr one there was, a myghty stoburne slaue
That for the other began to beg and craue
Now mayster, in the way of your good spede
To vs all four/behold where it is nede
And make this farthyng worth a halfpeny
For the fyue ioyes of our blyssed lady
Now turne agayn for saynt Erasmus sake
And on my bare knees here a vowe I make
Our ladyes psalter thre tymes euen now
Now turne agayn/as god shall turne to you
Now mayster, do that no man dyd this day
On yone poore wretch/that roteth in the way
Now mayster for hym that dyed ontre
Lete vs not dye for lacke of charyte
Thus he prated/as he full well can
Tyll at last an honest seruyng man
Came by the way/and by compassyon
Of his wordes/dyd his deuocyon
Whan he was gone a lytell fro thens
I sawe the begger pull out .xi. pens
Sayeng to his felaws se what here is
Many a knaue haue I called mayster for this
Lete vs go dyne/this is a symple day
My mayster therwith shall I scantly pay
[illeg.] these folkes hyther good mayster porter?

Porter.
No in sothe/this hous is of no such supporter
They haue houses/and kepe full yll gestyng
And to thē resorte all the hole ofspryng
Whiche Berbycan/and in Turnmyll strete
In Houndesdyche/and behynd the Flete
And in twenty places mo than there
Where they make reuell and gaudy chere
Wich fyll the pot fyll/go fyll me the can
Here is my peny/I am a gentylman
And there they byb/and fyll as dooth a gull
And whan that they haue theyr heades full
Than they fall out/and make reuylyng
And in this wyse make the dronken rekenyng
Thou beggerly knaue, bag nor staf hast thou none
But as I am fayne dayly to lend the one
Thou getest it no more/though it lye and rote
Nor my long cloke/nor my new patched cote
This rule make they/euery day and nyght
Tyll lyke as swyne they lye slepyng vpryght
Some beggerly churles to whome they resorte
Be the maynteners of a great sorte
Of myghty lubbers/and haue them in seruyce
Some iourney men/& some to theyr prentyce
And they walke to eche market and fayre
And to all places where folke do repayre
By day on styltes/or stoupyng on crowches
And so dyssymule as fals lewtryng slowches
With bloody clowtes all about theyr legge
And playsters on theyr skyn whan they go beg
Some countrefayt lepry/and other some
Put sope in theyr mouth to make it scome
And fall downe as saynt Cornelys euyll
These dysceyts they vse wors than eny deuyll
And whan they be in theyr owne company
They be as hole as eyther you or I
But at the last/whan sekenes cometh in dede
Than to the spyttell hous must they come nede

Copland.
Ah Iesu mercy/what man coud coniect
The mysery of suche a wretched sect
None honest man, but yet I you hertyly pray
Tell me of other that come these way
Come here ony of these maysterles men
That euery where do go and ren
That haue serued the kyng beyond the se
And now that they out of wages be
They must beg/or els go brybe and steale
Me thynk it is a great soule heale
To help them tyll they were pouruayd
In to some seruyce for yf they were arayd
Some of them were propre men and tall
And able to go whyther they shall

Porter.
That is trouth, but they vse one yll thyng
For they do were souldyers clothyng
And so beggyng deceyue folke ouer all
For they be vacabondes moost in generall
And wyll abyde no laborous subiection
With honest persones vnder correction
For whan they be wery they wyll ren̄e a way
And parchaūce cary with them what they may
And so whan a man wold bryng them to thryfe
They wyll hym rob/and fro his good hym lyfe

Copland.
Though some so do/they do not all so
For some myght chaunce well as many one do.

Porter.
That is true/but it hath ben seen long agone
That many haue fared the wors for one
And of these be two sortes moost comynly
The one of them lyueth by open beggery
Ragged and lowsy with bag/dysh/and staf
And euer haunteth among such ryf raf
One tyme to this spyttell, another to that
Prolyng and pochyng to get somwhat
At euery doore/lumpes of bread or meat
For yf the staf in his hand ones catche heat
Than farwell labour/& hath suche delyte
That thryft and honesty fro hym is quyte
And in suche mysery they lyue day by day
That of very nede they must come this way.

Copland.
Of the other now/what is theyr estate

Porter.
By my fayth nyghtyngales of newgate
These ben they that dayly walkes and Iettes
In theyr hose trussed rounde to theyr dowblettes
And say/good maysters of your charyte
Helpe vs poore men that come from the se
From the Bonauenture we were cast to lande
God it knowes as poorly as we stande
And sōtyme they say that they were take in Fraūce
And had ben there .vii. yeres in duraunce
In Muttrell/in Brest/in Tourney or Tyrwyn
In Morlays/in Cleremount or in [illeg.]dyn
And to theyr countrees they haue ferre to gone
And amonge them all peny haue they none
Now good menues bodyes wyll they say then
For goddes sake helpe to kepe vs true men
Or elles they say they haue in pryson be
In newgat/the kynges benche or marchalse
As many true men take by suspecyon
And were quitte/by proclamacyon
And yf ony are what countrey men they be
And lyke your maystershyp/of the north all thre
Or of Chesshyre/or elles nygh Cornewale
Or where they lyst for to gabbe and rayle
And may parchaunce the one is of London
The other of yorke/and the thyrde of Hampton
And thus they lewter in euery way and strete
In townes and chyrches where as people mete
In lanes and patthes/and at eche crosse/way
There do they prate/bable lye and praye
But yf ye be clenly and haply come alone
Your purce & clothynge may fortune to be gone
But at no dore for brede/drynke/nor potage
Nor scoules of meat/nor no suche bagage
They none desyre/to put in bagge nor male
But very whyte threde/to sewe good ale
And whan they haue goten what they may
Than to theyr lodgynge/they do take theyr way
In to some aley/lane/or blynde hostry
And to some corner or hous of bawdry
Where as ben folke of theyr affynyte
Brothelles/and other suche as they be
And there they mete/and make theyr gaudy chere
And put on theyr clothynge and other gere
Theyr swerdes and boclers/& theyr short daggebs
And there they reuell as vnthryfty braggers
With horyble othes/swerynge as they were wood
Armes/nayles/woundes/herte soule and blood
Dethe/fote/masse/flesshe/bones/lyfe/and body
With all other wordes of blasphemy
Bostynge them all in dedes of theyr myschefe
And thus passe the tyme/wt daūce hore/pipe thefe
The hang man shall lede the daunce at the ende
For none other ways they do not pretende
And whan that they can gete nothyng by beggyng
To maynteyne suche lyfe they fall to stelyng
And so this way the come at the last
Or on the galowes make a tomlyng cast

Copland.

Porter.
Suche folkes of trouth cometh here dayly
And ought of ryght this hous for to vse
In theyr aege/for they fully do refuse
The tyme of vertuous excercyse
wherby they shold vnto honour aryse

Copland.
Syr yet there is another company
Of the same sect/that lyue more subtylly
And be in maner as mayster wardayns
To whome these Rogers obey as capytayns
And be named Clewners, as I here say

Porter.

Copland.
A shrewd sorte by our lady/and a comberous
Iesus kepe them out of euery good mans hous
But cometh ony pardoners this way?

Porter.
Yea syr, they be our petours/& fayn they may
Chyefly syth theyr fals popery was knowen
And theyr bullysh indulgence ouerthrowen
They be all nought/reken eche with other
Subtilte is theyr father/& falshod theyr mother
For by lettres they name them as they be
P. a pardoner. Clewner a .C.
R. a Roger. I an Iurium/and a Sapyent .S.
Thus they know eche other doubtles
But whan theyr iuggelyng oores do fayle
They ren̄e ashore/ and here stryke sayle

Copland.
By my sothe I am wery to here of theyr lyuyng
wherfore I pray you/yf ye be pleasyng
Tell me shortly of all folke in generall
That come the hye way to the hospytall

Porter,

Copland.
Come hyther ony of these wofull creatures
That be sore wounded/and moche wo endures
With a shrewd wyfe/and is neuer quyet
Bycause that she wold haue all her dyet
But bralle and chyde/babble/crye and fyght
Euer vncontented bothe day and nyght

Porter.
Ceine this way quod a? yes I warraunt you
Of them alway come this way ynow
We haue chambres purposely for them
Or els they shold be lodged in Bedlem

Copland.
Mary god forbyd it shold be as ye tell

Porter.
By good fayth, the very deuyll of hell
I trowe to my mynd hath not moche more payne
One were in a maner as good be slayne
For there is no ioye/but euer anguysh
On bothe sydes they do always languysh
For the one gooth hyther, and the other thyder
Bothe they spend, and ly nothyng togyder
So at the last of very necessyte
Hyther they come/to aske lodgyng of me

Copland.
I do knowe it is the ryght facyon
A realme stryuyng in it self gooth to desolacyon
God amend all/I haue herd what it is
Tell of some other/I am wery of this

Porter.

Copland.

Porter.
Do they? yea/I warraunt euery hour
All rotten and torne/armes, heades, & legges
They are the moost sorte that ony where begges
And be the people that moost anoy vs.

Copland.

Uir multū iurans replebitur iniquitate, & a domo ei non recedet plaga. Eccliastic .xxii.

Porter.
These folkes come in so great nombre
That all the ways they do encombre
And with them dothe come all these folke that spare
To assay theyr frendes for theyr owne welfare
But folow theyr owne myndes alway
Nor to theyr frendes in no wyse wyll obay
And of theyr promesses/they be no more set by
But to this way they must them nedes apply

Copland.
And how by these people so full of coueytyse
That all the worldes good can them not suffyse
But by vsury/rapyne/and extorcyon
Do poulle the pore folke of theyr porcyon
And they that inuent newes by tyranny
Upon poore mens landes fraudelently
And lyke as wolues the shepe dooth take and tease
For theyr owne lucre/and to lyue in ease
And day by day/in euery maner degre
They do prolonge theyr iniquite

Porter.
As for with them we haue to do nothyng
Unto the lawe it is all be longyng
How be it yf they chaunce to be poore
Then often in dede they do come by our doore

Copland.
But then I pray you how say ye by these
That breke this precept (Non furtum facies)
Theues & murtherers/& these watchers of wayes
That robbe & steale/bothe by nightes and dayes
And that delyte in murder and in theft
Whose condycyons in no wyse can be left
Do not they oft tymes come hyther by you?

Porter.
Of them there cometh dayly ynow
But they be led and comenly fast bounde
Bycause theyr lodgyng may soner be founde
And ben conueyed by men of charyte
Where that they haue hospytalyte
And ben well kept/and wrapped surely
And whan tyme cometh that they must dye
They be buryed aloft in the ayre
Bycause dogs shall not on theyr graues repayre.

Copland.
Almyghty Iesu of his mercy defende
Euery good mānes chylde from suche and ende
And how say ye by all these grete dronkardes
That suppe all of/by pottes and tankardes
Tyll they be so dronke/that they can not stande
That is but lytell vsed in this lande
Except it be among duche folke or flemynges
For englysshe men knowe not of suche rekēinges

Porter.
No do? yes yes. I ensure you hardely
They can do it as well as ony body
With dowble beare/be it wyne or ale
They ceas not tyll they can tell no ryght tale
With quyxte quaxte/ic brynxte lief brore
An ortkyn/or an half beres/by gots more
Yea rather than fayle drynke it clene out
With fyll the pot ones agayn round about
Gyue vs more drynke/for sparyng of bread
Tyll theyr cappes be wyser than theyr head
And so syt they/and spend vp all theyr thryft
And after come here/they haue no other shyft

Copland.
How say ye by these folkes full of yre
That bren̄e in wrath/hoter than fyre
And neuer be quyet/but chyde and brall
With wrath and anger fretyng hert and gall
Wayward/wode/furyous/and fell
For where they be/quyetnes cannot dwell.
But alway stryfe/mystrust/and great dysease
And in no wyse none man can them please

Porter.
Hyther they come/and I wyll tell you why
None can lyue by thē/well nor quyetly
But with eche one they fall out and make bate
Causyng people them for to hare
And wyll suffre them to dwell nowhere
But are fayne for to remayne here

Copland.
It may well be so, for where is none agre
Neyther thryft nor welfare cannot be
But I trust it be not betwene man and wyfe
Thame were pyte/and eke a sory lyfe
For where is no peas at bed nor at borde
I reken theyr thryft is not worth a torde
But of these people that ben so stout
That in welth and wo bere it so out
That pryde wyll not suffre them for to fall
Methynke this way they come not all

Porter.
O yes yes/god wote of them be not fewe
For here all day they assemble in a rewe
And here they crake/bable and make grete boste
And amonge all other wolde rule the reste
With stande backe yu lewd vylayne beggerly knaue
I wyll that thou knowe my wyfe and I haue
Spent more in a day with good honeste
Than thou in thy lyfe euer was lyke to be
For I tell the I haue kept or now suche reporte
That all my neyghtbours dyd to me resorte
And haue or now kept a grete housholde
And had ynough of syluer/and of golde
In all our parysshe was none better decked
And I thynke scorne for to be thus checked
Of suche lewde persones that neuer had good
And eke I am borne of as good a blood
As ony in this towne/and a gentylman
But yf I had as moche as I wyst whan
I shold make a meyny of these poore carles to know
What maner thyng a gentylman is I trowe

Copland.

Porter.
How say ye by this lewd Ipocrysy?
That is vsed so superstycyously
I cry god mercy yf I make ony lye
Of them that deuout prayers seme to occupy
As yf god fro the cros by them shold be vndone
And syt in the chyrche tyll it be noone
Neuer speakyng in ony folkes presence
But it soundeth to vertue and reuerence
Yet whan they be moeued to anger and wrath
I truwe to my mynde/that other folke hath
Not half the spyte, vengeaunce and rygour
As they wyll haue to theyr poore neyghbour
For some of them/yf they myght be a lorde
Wold hang another/they be of suche dyscorde
And where they ones take hatred or enmyte
Duryng theyr lyfe haue neuer charyte
And who that hath no charyte nor loue
Can neuer please the amyte aboue
And so this way they be fayne to come.

Copland.

Porter.
They must come hyther/for they cannot chuse
For they that wyll them selfe so vse
The one to gete/and the other spend
And whan all is brought to an end
Hether they come to haue conforte
Syr I beshrew all the hole sorte
Suche genyfenyes kepeth many one lowe
Theyr husbandes must obey as dog to bowe
Alas sely men/ye are yll at ease
These deynty huswyues for to fede and please
For so they syt and sew half an hour on a clout
Theyr hole dayes worke is patched out
And so by theyr tryflyng and lyuyng nought
With other meanes they be hyther brought

Copland.
Well good porter/I pray you let them alone
Fyr happy is he that hath a good one
I pray you shewe me of other gestes
For agaynst women I loue no iestes
The showre is almoost done/and I haue fer to go
Come none of these pedlers this way also
With pak on bak/with theyr bousy speche
Iagged and ragged/with broken hose & breche

Porter.
Inow. ynow/with bousy coue maund nace
Toure the patcyng coue in the darkman cace
Docked the dell/for a coper meke
His watch shall feng a prounces nobchete
Cyarum by salmon/and thou shalt pek my iere
In thy gan/for my watch it is nace gere
For the bene bouse/my watch hath a wyn
And thus they babble tyll theyr thryft is thyn
I wote not what/with theyr pedlyng frenche
But of the spyttle/they haue a party stenche
And with them comes gaderers of cony skynnes
That chop with laces/poyntes/nedles/& pyns

Copland.
Come ony maryners hyther of Cok lorels bote

Porter.

Copland
Yet one thyng I wonder that ye do not tell
Come there no women this way to dwell?

Porter.
Of all the sortes that be spoke of afore
I warraunt women ynow in store
That we are wery of them euery day
They come so thycke that they stop the way
The systerhod of drabbes/sluttes and callets
Do here resorte/with theyr bags and wallets
And be parteners of the contrary
Of the maynteners of yll husbandry

Copland.
A lewd sorte is of them of a surety
Now mayster porter/I thank you hertyly
Of your good talkyng/I must take my leue
The shoure is done/and it is toward eue
Another tyme/and at more leaser
I wyll for you do as great a pleaser

Porter.
There be a .M. mo than I can tell
But at this tyme I byd you farwell.

Lenuoy of the auctour.

Go lytell quayre to euery degre
And on thy mater desyre them to loke
Desyryng them for to pardon me
That am so bolde to put them in my boke
To eschue vyce, I the vndertoke
By [illeg.]nyng no manre of creature
I were to blame yf I them forsoke
None in this world, of welth can be sure.