The Poetical Works of John Skelton principally according to the edition of the Rev. Alexander Dyce. In three volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of John Skelton |  |
II. VOLUME II.
2
MAGNYFYCENCE,
A GOODLY INTERLUDE AND A MERY, DEUYSED AND MADE BY MAYSTER SKELTON. POET LAUREATE.
- Felycyte.
- Lyberte.
- Measure.
- Magnyfycence.
- Fansy.
- Counterfet Counte[naunce].
- Crafty Conueyaunce.
- Clokyd Colusyon.
- Courtly Abusyon.
- Foly.
- Aduersyte.
- Pouerte.
- Dyspare.
- Myschefe.
- Goodhope.
- Redresse.
- [Sad] Cyrcumspeccyon.
- Perseueraunce.
These be the Names of the Players:
3
Al thyngys contryuyd by mannys reason,
The world enuyronnyd of hygh and low estate,
Be it erly or late, welth hath a season,
Welth is of wysdome the very trewe probate;
A fole is he with welth that fallyth at debate:
But men nowe a dayes so vnhappely be vryd,
That nothynge than welth may worse be enduryd.
To tell you the cause me semeth it no nede,
The amense therof is far to call agayne;
For when men by welth, they haue lytyll drede
Of that may come after; experyence trewe and playne,
Howe after a drought there falleth a showre of rayne,
4
A man may haue welth, but not, as he wolde,
Ay to contynewe and styll to endure;
But yf prudence be proued with sad cyrcumspeccyon,
Welthe myght be wonne and made to the lure,
If noblenesse were aquayntyd with sober dyreccyon;
But wyll hath reason so vnder subieccyon,
And so dysordereth this worlde ouer all,
That welthe and felicite is passynge small.
But where wonnys Welthe, and a man wolde wyt?
For welthfull Felicite truly is my name.
Lyberte.
Mary, Welthe and I was apoynted to mete,
And eyther I am dysseyued, or ye be the same.
Fel.
Syr, as ye say, I haue harde of your fame;
Your name is Lyberte, as I vnderstande.
Lyb.
Trewe you say, syr; gyue me your hande.
Fel.
And from whens come ye, and it myght be askyd?
Lyb.
To tell you, syr, I dare not, leest I sholde be maskyd
In a payre of fetters or a payre of stockys.
Fel.
Here you not howe this gentylman mockys?
Lyb.
Ye, to knackynge ernyst what and it preue?
5
Why, to say what he wyll, Lyberte hath leue.
Lyb.
Yet Lyberte hath ben lockyd vp and kept in the mew.
Fel.
In dede, syr, that lyberte was not worthe a cue:
Howe be it lyberte may somtyme be to large,
But yf reason be regent and ruler of your barge.
Lyb.
To that ye say I can well condyssende:
Shewe forth, I pray you, here in what you intende.
Fel.
Of that I intende to make demonstracyon,
It askyth lesure with good aduertysment.
Fyrst, I say, we owght to haue in consyderacyon,
That lyberte be lynkyd with the chayne of countenaunce,
Lyberte to let from all maner offence;
For lyberte at large is lothe to be stoppyd,
But with countenaunce your corage must be croppyd.
Lyb.
Then thus to you—
Fel.
Nay, suffer me yet ferther to say,
And peraduenture I shall content your mynde.
Lyberte, I wot well, forbere no man there may,
It is so swete in all maner of kynde;
Howe be it lyberte makyth many a man blynde;
By lyberte is done many a great excesse;
Lyberte at large wyll oft wax reklesse:
Perceyue ye this parcell?
Lyb.
Ye, syr, passyng well:
6
To shewe parte of my wyt,
Somwhat I coulde enferre,
Your consayte to debarre,
Vnder supportacyon
Of pacyent tolleracyon
Fel.
God forbyd ye sholde be let
Your reasons forth to fet;
Wherfore at lyberte
Say what ye wyll to me.
Lyb.
Brefly to touche of my purpose the effecte;
Lyberte is laudable and pryuylegyd from lawe,
Judycyall rygoure shall not me correcte—
Fel.
Softe, my frende; herein your reason is but rawe.
Lyb.
Yet suffer me to say the surpluse of my sawe;
What wote ye where vpon I wyll conclude?
I say, there is no welthe where as lyberte is subdude;
I trowe ye can not say nay moche to this;
To lyue vnder lawe, it is captyuyte;
Where drede ledyth the daunce, there is no ioy nor blysse;
Or howe can you proue that there is felycyte,
And you haue not your owne fre lyberte
To sporte at your pleasure, to ryn and to ryde?
Where lyberte is absent, set welthe asyde.
7
Meas.
Cryst you assyste in your altrycacyon!
Fel.
Why, haue you harde of our dysputacyon?
Meas.
I parceyue well howe eche of you doth reason.
Lyb.
Mayster Measure, you be come in good season.
Meas.
And it is wonder that your wylde insolence
Can be content with Measure presence.
Fel.
Wolde it please you then—
Lyb.
Vs to informe and ken—
Meas.
A, ye be wonders men!
Your langage is lyke the penne
Of hym that wryteth to fast.
Fel.
Syr, yf any worde haue past
Me other fyrst or last,
To you I arecte it, and cast
Therof the reformacyon.
Lyb.
And I of the same facyon;
Howe be it, by protestacyon,
Dyspleasure that you none take,
Some reason we must make.
Meas.
That wyll not I forsake,
So it in measure be:
Come of, therfore, let se;
Shall I begynne or ye?
Fel.
Nay, ye shall begynne, by my wyll.
Lyb.
It is reason and skyll,
We your pleasure fulfyll.
8
Then ye must bothe consent
You to holde content
With myne argument;
And I muste you requyre
Me pacyently to here.
Fel.
Yes, syr, with ryght good chere.
Lyb.
With all my herte intere.
Meas.
Oracius to recorde, in his volumys olde,
With euery condycyon measure must be sought:
Welthe without measure wolde bere hymselfe to bolde,
Lyberte without measure proue a thynge of nought;
I ponder by nomber, by measure all thynge is wrought,
As at the fyrst orygynall by godly opynyon,
Whych prouyth well that measure shold haue domynyon:
Where measure is mayster, plenty dothe none offence;
Where measure lackyth, all thynge dysorderyd is;
Where measure is absent, ryot kepeth resydence;
Where measure is ruler, there is nothynge amysse;
Measure is treasure: howe say ye, is it not this?
Fel.
Yes, questyonlesse, in myne opynyon,
Measure is worthy to haue domynyon.
Lyb.
Vnto that same I am ryght well agrede,
So that lyberte be not lefte behynde.
Meas.
Ye, lyberte with measure nede neuer drede.
9
What, lyberte to measure then wolde ye bynde?
Meas.
What ellys? for otherwyse it were agaynst kynde:
If lyberte sholde lepe and renne where he lyst,
It were no vertue, it were a thynge vnblyst;
It were a myschefe, yf lyberte lacked a reyne,
Where with to rule hym with the wrythyng of a rest:
All trebyllys and tenours be rulyd by a meyne;
Lyberte without measure is acountyd for a beste;
There is no surfet where measure rulyth the feste;
There is no excesse where measure hath his helthe;
Measure contynwyth prosperyte and welthe.
Fel.
Vnto your rule I wyll annex my mynde.
Lyb.
So wolde I, but I wolde be lothe,
That wonte was to be formyst, now to come behynde:
It were a shame, to God I make an othe,
Without I myght cut it out of the brode clothe,
As I was wonte euer at my fre wyll.
Meas.
But haue ye not herde say, that wyll is no skyll?
Take sad dyreccyon, and leue this wantonnesse.
Lyb.
It is no maystery.
Fel.
Tushe, let Measure procede,
And after his mynde herdely your selfe adresse;
For, without measure, pouerte and nede
Wyll crepe vpon vs, and vs to myschefe lede;
10
Lyb.
Well, I am content your wayes to take.
Meas.
Surely, I am ioyous that ye be myndyd thus.
Magnyfycence to mayntayne, your promosyon shalbe.
Fel.
So in his harte he may be glad of vs.
Lyb.
There is no prynce but he hath nede of vs thre,
Welthe, with Measure and plesaunt Lyberte.
Meas.
Nowe pleasyth you a lytell whyle to stande;
Me semeth Magnyfycence is comynge here at hande.
Hic intrat Magnyfycence.
Magn.
To assure you of my noble porte and fame,
Who lyst to knowe, Magnyfycence I hyght.
But, Measure my frende, what hyght this mannys name?
Meas.
Syr, though ye be a noble prynce of myght,
Yet in this man you must set your delyght;
And, syr, this other mannys name is Lyberte.
Magn.
Welcome, frendys, ye are bothe vnto me:
But nowe let me knowe of your conuersacyon.
Fel.
Pleasyth your grace, Felycyte they me call.
11
And I am Lyberte, made of in euery nacyon.
Magn.
Conuenyent persons for any prynce ryall.
Welthe with Lyberte, with me bothe dwell ye shall,
To the gydynge of my Measure you bothe commyttynge:
That Measure be mayster, vs semeth it is syttynge.
Meas.
Where as ye haue, syr, to me them assygned,
Suche order, I trust, with them for to take,
So that welthe with measure shalbe conbyned,
And lyberte his large with measure shall make.
Fel.
Your ordenaunce, syr, I wyll not forsake.
Lyb.
And I my selfe hooly to you wyll inclyne.
Magn.
Then may I say that ye be seruauntys myne,
For by measure, I warne you, we thynke to be gydyd;
Wherin it is necessary my pleasure you knowe,
Measure and I wyll neuer be deuydyd
For no dyscorde that any man can sawe;
For measure is a meane, nother to hy nor to lawe,
In whose attemperaunce I haue suche delyght,
That measure shall neuer departe from my syght.
Fel.
Laudable your consayte is to be acountyd;
For welthe without measure sodenly wyll slyde.
Lyb.
As your grace full nobly hath recountyd,
Measure with noblenesse sholde be alyde.
12
Then, Lyberte, se that Measure be your gyde,
For I wyll vse you by his aduertysment.
Fel.
Then shall you haue with you prosperyte resydent.
Meas.
I trowe, good fortune hath annexyd vs together,
To se howe greable we are of one mynde;
There is no flaterer, nor losyll so lyther,
This lynkyd chayne of loue that can vnbynde.
Nowe that ye haue me chefe ruler assyngned,
I wyll endeuour me to order euery thynge
Your noblenesse and honour consernynge.
Lyb.
In ioy and myrthe your mynde shalbe inlargyd,
And not embracyd with pusyllanymyte;
But plenarly all thought from you must be dyschargyd,
If ye lyst to lyue after your fre lyberte:
All delectacyons aquayntyd is with me,
By me all persons worke what they lyste.
Meas.
Hem, syr, yet beware of Had I wyste!
Lyberte in some cause becomyth a gentyll mynde,
Bycause course of measure, yf I be in the way:
Who countyth without me, is caste to fer behynde
Of his rekenynge, as euydently we may
Se at our eye the worlde day by day;
For defaute of measure all thynge dothe excede.
Fel.
All that ye say is as trewe as the Crede;
For howe be it lyberte to welthe is conuenyent,
13
Yet measure hath ben so longe from vs absent,
That all men laugh at lyberte to scorne;
Welth and wyt, I say, be so threde bare worne,
That all is without measure, and fer beyonde the mone.
Magn.
Then noblenesse, I se well, is almoste vndone,
But yf therof the soner amendys be made;
For dowtlesse I parceyue my magnyfycence
Without measure lyghtly may fade,
Of to moche lyberte vnder the offence:
Wherfore, Measure, take Lyberte with you hence,
And rule hym after the rule of your scole.
Lyb.
What, syr, wolde ye make me a poppynge fole?
Meas.
Why, were not your selfe agreed to the same,
And now wolde ye swarue from your owne ordynaunce?
Lyb.
I wolde be rulyd, and I myght for shame.
Fel.
A, ye make me laughe at your inconstaunce.
Magn.
Syr, without any longer delyaunce,
Take Lyberte to rule, and folowe myne entent.
Meas.
It shalbe done at your commaundement.
Itaque Measure exeat locum cum Libertate, et maneat Magnyfycence cum Felicitate.
Magn.
It is a wanton thynge this Lyberte;
Perceyue you not howe lothe he was to abyde
14
Haue deputyd Measure hym to gyde?
By measure eche thynge duly is tryde:
Thynke you not thus, my frende Felycyte?
Fel.
God forbede that it other wyse sholde be!
Magn.
Ye coulde not ellys, I wote, with me endure.
Fel.
Endure? no, God wote, it were great payne;
But yf I were orderyd by iust measure,
It were not possyble me longe to retayne.
Hic intrat Fansy.
Fan.
Tusche, holde your pece, your langage is vayne.
Please it your grace to take no dysdayne,
To shewe you playnly the trouth as I thynke.
Magn.
Here is none forsyth whether you flete or synke.
Fel.
From whens come you, syr, that no man lokyd after?
Magn.
Or who made you so bolde to interrupe my tale?
Fan.
Nowe, benedicite, ye wene I were some hafter,
Or ellys some iangelynge Jacke of the vale;
Ye wene that I am dronken, bycause I loke pale.
Magn.
Me semeth that ye haue dronken more than ye haue bled.
15
Yet amonge noble men I was brought vp and bred.
Fel.
Nowe leue this iangelynge, and to vs expounde
Why that ye sayd our langage was in vayne.
Fan.
Mary, vpon trouth my reason I grounde,
That without largesse noblenesse can not rayne;
And that I sayd ones, yet I say agayne,
I say without largesse worshyp hath no place,
For largesse is a purchaser of pardon and of grace.
Magn.
Nowe, I beseche thé, tell me what is thy name?
Fan.
Largesse, that all lordes sholde loue, syr, I hyght.
Fel.
But hyght you, Largesse, encreace of noble fame?
Fan.
Ye, syr, vndoubted.
Fel.
Then, of very ryght,
With Magnyfycence, this noble prynce of myght,
Sholde be your dwellynge, in my consyderacyon.
Magn.
Yet we wyll therin take good delyberacyon.
Fan.
As in that, I wyll not be agaynst your pleasure.
Fel.
Syr, hardely remembre what may your name auaunce.
Magn.
Largesse is laudable, so it be in measure.
Fan.
Largesse is he that all prynces doth auaunce;
I reporte me herein to Kynge Lewes of Fraunce.
16
Why haue ye hym named, and all other refused?
Fan.
For, syth he dyed, largesse was lytell vsed.
Plucke vp your mynde, syr; what ayle you to muse?
Haue ye not welthe here at your wyll?
It is but a maddynge, these wayes that ye vse:
What auayleth lordshyp, yourselfe for to kyll
With care and with thought howe Jacke shall haue Gyl?
Magn.
What? I haue aspyed ye are a carles page.
Fan.
By God, syr, ye se but fewe wyse men of myne age;
But couetyse hath blowen you so full of wynde,
That colica passio hath gropyd you by the guttys.
Fel.
In fayth, broder Largesse, you haue a mery mynde.
Fan.
In fayth, I set not by the worlde two Dauncaster cuttys.
Magn.
Ye wante but a wylde flyeng bolte to shote at the buttes:
Though Largesse ye hyght, your langage is to large;
For whiche ende goth forwarde ye take lytell charge.
Fel.
Let se, this checke yf ye voyde canne.
Fan.
In faythe, els had I gone to longe to scole,
But yf I coulde knowe a gose from a swanne.
17
Wel, wyse men may ete the fysshe, when ye shal draw the pole.
Fan.
In fayth, I wyll not say that ye shall proue a fole,
But ofte tymes haue I sene wyse men do mad dedys.
Magn.
Go, shake the dogge, hay, syth ye wyll nedys!
You are nothynge mete with vs for to dwell,
That with your lorde and mayster so pertly can prate:
Gete you hens, I say, by my counsell;
I wyll not vse you to play with me checke mate.
Fan.
Syr, yf I haue offended your noble estate,
I trow I haue brought you suche wrytynge of recorde,
That I shall haue you agayne my good lorde:
To you recommendeth Sad Cyrcumspeccyon,
And sendeth you this wrytynge closed vnder sele.
Magn.
This wrytynge is welcome with harty affeccyon:
Why kepte you it thus longe? howe dothe he? wele?
Fan.
Syr, thanked be God, he hath his hele.
Magn.
Welthe, gete you home, and commaunde me to Mesure;
Byd hym take good hede to you, my synguler tresure.
18
Is there ony thynge elles your grace wyll commaunde me?
Magn.
Nothynge but fare you well tyll sone;
And that he take good kepe to Lyberte.
Fel.
Your pleasure, syr, shortely shall be done.
Magn.
I shall come to you myselfe, I trowe, this afternone.
I pray you, Larges, here to remayne,
Whylest, I knowe what this letter dothe contayne.
Hic faciat tanquam legeret litteras tacite. Interim superveniat cantando Counterfet, Counternaunce suspenso gradu, qui, viso Magnyfycence, sensim retrocedat; at tempus postpusillum rursum accedat Counterfet Countenaunce prospectando et vocitando a longe; et Fansy animat silentium cum manu.
C. Count.
What, Fansy, Fansy!
Magn.
Who is that that thus dyd cry?
Me thought he called Fansy.
Fan.
It was a Flemynge hyght Hansy.
Magn.
Me thought he called Fansy me behynde.
Fan.
Nay, syr, it was nothynge but your mynde:
But nowe, syr, as touchynge this letter—
Magn.
I shall loke in it at leasure better:
And surely ye are to hym beholde;
And for his sake ryght gladly I wolde
Do what I coude to do you good.
19
I pray, God kepe you in that mood!
Magn.
This letter was wryten ferre hence.
Fan.
By lakyn, syr, it hathe cost me pence
And grotes many one, or I came to your presence.
Magn.
Where was it delyuered you, shewe vnto me.
Fan.
By God, syr, beyonde the se.
Magn.
At what place nowe, as you gesse?
Fan.
By my trouthe, syr, at Pountesse;
This wrytynge was taken me there,
But neuer was I in gretter fere.
Magn.
Howe so?
Fan.
By God, at the see syde,
Had I not opened my purse wyde,
I trowe, by our lady, I had ben slayne,
Or elles I had lost myne eres twayne.
Magn.
By your soth?
Fan.
Ye, and there is suche a wache,
That no man can scape but they hym cache.
They bare me in hande that I was a spye;
And another bade put out myne eye,
Another wolde myne eye were blerde,
Another bade shaue halfe my berde;
And boyes to the pylery gan me plucke,
And wolde haue made me Freer Tucke,
To preche out of the pylery hole,
Without an antetyme or a stole;
20
To gete me fro them I had moche warke.
Magn.
Mary, syr, ye were afrayde.
Fan.
By my trouthe, had I not payde and prayde,
And made largesse as I hyght,
I had not ben here with you this nyght;
But surely largesse saued my lyfe,
For largesse stynteth all maner of stryfe.
Magn.
It dothe so sure nowe and than,
But largesse is not mete for euery man.
Fan.
No, but for you grete estates:
Largesse stynteth grete debates;
And he that I came fro to this place
Sayd I was mete for your grace;
And in dede, syr, I here men talke,
By the way as I ryde and walke,
Say howe you excede in noblenesse,
If you had with you largesse.
Magn.
And say they so in very dede?
Fan.
With ye, syr, so God me spede.
Magn.
Yet mesure is a mery mene.
Fan.
Ye, syr, a blannched almonde is no bene.
Measure is mete for a marchauntes hall,
But largesse becometh a state ryall.
What, sholde you pynche at a pecke of otes,
Ye wolde sone pynche at a pecke of grotes.
Thus is the talkynge of one and of oder,
As men dare speke it hugger mugger;
A lorde a negarde, it is a shame,
But largesse may amende your name.
21
In faythe, Largesse, welcome to me.
Fan.
I pray you, syr, I may so be,
And of my seruyce you shall not mysse.
Magn.
Togyder we wyll talke more of this:
Let vs departe from hens home to my place.
Fan.
I folow euen after your noble grace.
Hic discedat Magnificens cum Fansy, et intrat Counterfet Countenaunce.
C. Count.
What, I say, herke a worde.
Fan.
Do away, I say, the deuylles torde!
C. Count.
Ye, but how longe shall I here awayte?
Fan.
By Goddys body, I come streyte:
I hate this blunderyng that thou doste make.
C. Count.
Nowe to the deuyll I thé betake,
For in fayth ye be well met.
Fansy hath cachyd in a flye net
This noble man Magnyfycence,
Of Largesse vnder the pretence.
They haue made me here to put the stone:
But nowe wyll I, that they be gone,
In bastarde ryme, after the dogrell gyse,
Tell you where of my name dothe ryse.
For Counterfet Countenaunce knowen am I;
This worlde is full of my foly.
22
That can not counterfet a lye,
Swere, and stare, and byde therby,
And countenaunce it clenly,
And defende it manerly.
A knaue wyll counterfet nowe a knyght,
A lurdayne lyke a lorde to fyght,
A mynstrell lyke a man of myght,
A tappyster lyke a lady bryght:
Thus make I them wyth thryft to fyght,
Thus at the laste I brynge hym ryght
To Tyburne, where they hange on hyght.
To counterfet I can by praty wayes:
Of nyghtys to occupy counterfet kayes,
Clenly to counterfet newe arayes,
Counterfet eyrnest by way of playes:
Thus am I occupyed at all assayes;
What so euer I do, all men me prayse,
And mekyll am I made of nowe adays:
Counterfet maters in the lawe of the lande,
Wyth golde and grotes they grese my hande,
In stede of ryght that wronge may stande,
And counterfet fredome that is bounde;
I counterfet suger that is but founde;
Counterfet capytaynes by me are mande;
Of all lewdnesse I kyndell the brande;
23
Counterfet letters by the way of sleyght;
Subtelly vsynge counterfet weyght;
Counterfet langage, fayty bone geyte.
Counterfetynge is a proper bayte;
A counte to counterfet in a resayte;
To counterfet well is a good consayte.
Counterfet maydenhode may well be borne,
But counterfet coynes is laughynge to scorne;
It is euyll patchynge of that is torne;
Whan the noppe is rughe, it wolde be shorne;
Counterfet haltynge without a thorne;
Yet counterfet chafer is but euyll corne;
All thynge is worse whan it is worne.
What, wolde ye, wyues, counterfet
The courtly gyse of the newe iet?
An olde barne wolde be vnderset:
It is moche worthe that is ferre fet.
What, wanton, wanton, nowe well ymet!
What, Margery Mylke Ducke, mermoset!
It wolde be masked in my net;
It wolde be nyce, thoughe I say nay;
By Crede, it wolde haue fresshe aray,
And therfore shall my husbande pay;
To counterfet she wyll assay
All the newe gyse, fresshe and gaye,
And be as praty as she may,
And iet it ioly as a iay:
Counterfet prechynge, and byleue the contrary;
Counterfet conscyence, peuysshe pope holy;
24
Counterfet holynes is called ypocrysy;
Counterfet reason is not worth a flye;
Counterfet wysdome, and workes of foly;
Counterfet countenaunce euery man dothe occupy
Counterfet worshyp outwarde men may se;
Ryches rydeth out, at home is pouerte;
Counterfet pleasure is borne out by me:
Coll wolde go clenly, and it wyll not be,
And Annot wolde be nyce, and laughes, tehe wehe;
Your counterfet countenaunce is all of nysyte,
A plummed partrydge all redy to flye:
A knokylbonyarde wyll counterfet a clarke,
He wolde trotte gentylly, but he is to starke,
At his cloked counterfetynge dogges dothe barke;
A carter a courtyer, it is a worthy warke,
That with his whyp his mares was wonte to yarke;
A custrell to dryue the deuyll out of the derke,
A counterfet courtyer with a knaues marke.
To counterfet this freers haue lerned me;
This nonnes nowe and then, and it myght be,
Wolde take in the way of counterfet charyte
The grace of God vnder benedicite;
To counterfet thyr counsell they gyue me a fee;
Chanons can not counterfet but vpon thre,
Monkys may not for drede that men sholde them se.
25
Cr. Con.
What, Counterfet Countenaunce!
C. Count.
What, Crafty Conueyaunce!
Fan.
What, the deuyll, are ye two of aquayntaunce?
God gyue you a very myschaunce!
Cr. Con.
Yes, yes, syr, he and I haue met.
C. Count.
We haue bene togyder bothe erly and late:
But, Fansy my frende, where haue ye bene so longe?
Fan.
By God, I haue bene about a praty pronge;
Crafty Conueyaunce, I sholde say, and I.
Cr. Con.
By God, we haue made Magnyfycence to ete a flye.
C. Count.
Howe coulde ye do that, and [I] was away?
Fan.
By God, man, bothe his pagent and thyne he can play.
C. Count.
Say trouth?
Cr. Con.
Yes, yes, by lakyn, I shall thé warent,
As longe as I lyue, thou haste an heyre parent.
Fan.
Yet haue we pyckyd out a rome for thé.
C. Count.
Why, shall we dwell togyder all thre?
Cr. Con.
Why, man, it were to great a wonder,
That we thre galauntes sholde be longe asonder.
26
For Cockys harte, gyue me thy hande.
Fan.
By the masse, for ye are able to dystroy an hole lande.
Cr. Con.
By God, yet it muste begynne moche of thé.
Fan.
Who that is ruled by vs, it shalbe longe or he thee.
C. Count.
But, I say, kepest thou the olde name styll that thou had?
Cr. Con.
Why, wenyst thou, horson, that I were so mad?
Fan.
Nay, nay, he hath chaunged his, and I haue chaunged myne.
C. Count.
Nowe, what is his name, and what is thyne?
Fan.
In faythe, Largesse I hyght,
And I am made a knyght.
C. Count.
A rebellyon agaynst nature,
So large a man, and so lytell of stature!
But, syr, howe counterfetyd ye?
Cr. Con.
Sure Surueyaunce I named me.
C. Count.
Surueyaunce! where ye suruey,
Thryfte hathe lost her cofer kay.
Fan.
But is it not well? howe thynkest thou?
C. Count.
Yes, syr, I gyue God auowe,
Myselfe coude not counterfet it better.
But what became of the letter,
That I counterfeyted you vnderneath a shrowde?
27
By the masse, odly well alowde.
Cr. Con.
By God, had not I it conuayed,
Yet Fansy had ben dysceyued.
C. Count.
I wote, thou arte false ynoughe for one.
Fan.
By my trouthe, we had ben gone:
And yet, in fayth, man, we lacked thé
For to speke with Lyberte.
C. Count.
What is Largesse without Lyberte?
Cr. Con.
By Mesure mastered yet is he.
C. Count.
What, is your conueyaunce no better?
Fan.
In faythe, Mesure is lyke a tetter,
That ouergroweth a mannes face,
So he ruleth ouer all our place.
Cr. Con.
Nowe therfore, whylest we are togyder,—
Counterfet Countenaunce, nay, come hyder,—
I say, whylest we are togyder in same—
C. Count.
Tushe, a strawe, it is a shame
That we can no better than so.
Fan.
We wyll remedy it, man, or we go;
For, lyke as mustarde is sharpe of taste,
Ryght so a sharpe fansy must be founde
Wherwith Mesure to confounde.
Cr. Con.
Can you a remedy for a tysyke,
That sheweth yourselfe thus spedde in physyke?
C. Count.
It is a gentyll reason of a rake.
28
For all these iapes yet that ye make—
Cr. Con.
Your fansy maketh myne elbowe to ake.
Fan.
Let se, fynde you a better way.
C. Count.
Take no dyspleasure of that we say.
Cr. Con.
Nay, and you be angry and ouerwharte,
A man may beshrowe your angry harte.
Fan.
Tushe, a strawe, I thought none yll.
C. Count.
What, shall we iangle thus all the day styll?
Cr. Con.
Nay, let vs our heddes togyder cast.
Fan.
Ye, and se howe it may be compast,
That Mesure were cast out of the dores.
C. Count.
Alasse, where is my botes and my spores?
Cr. Con.
In all this hast whether wyll ye ryde?
C. Count.
I trowe, it shall not nede to abyde.
Cockes woundes, se, syrs, se, se!
Hic ingrediatur Cloked Colusyon cum elato aspectu, deorsum et sursum ambulando.
Fan.
Cockes armes, what is he?
Cr. Con.
By Cockes harte, he loketh hye;
He hawketh, me thynke, for a butterflye.
C. Count.
Nowe, by Cockes harte, well abyden,
For, had you not come, I had ryden.
Cl. Col.
Thy wordes be but wynde, neuer they haue no wayght;
Thou hast made me play the iurde hayte.
29
And yf ye knewe howe I haue mused,
I am sure ye wolde haue me excused.
Cl. Col.
I say, come hyder: what are these twayne?
C. Count.
By God, syr, this is Fansy small brayne;
And Crafty Conuayaunce, knowe you not hym?
Cl. Col.
Know hym, syr! quod he; yes, by Saynt Sym.
Here is a leysshe of ratches to renne an hare:
Woo is that purse that ye shall share!
Fan.
What call ye him, this?
Cr. Con.
I trowe, that he is.
C. Count.
Tushe, holde your pece.
Se you not how they prece
For to knowe your name?
Cl. Col.
Knowe they not me, they are to blame.
Knowe you not me, syrs?
Fan.
No, in dede.
Cr. Con.
Abyde, lette me se, take better hede;
Cockes harte, it is Cloked Colusyon.
Cl. Col.
A, syr, I pray God gyue you confusyon!
Fan.
Cockes armes, is that your name?
C. Count.
Ye, by the masse, this is euen the same,
That all this matter must vnder grope.
Cr. Con.
What is this he wereth, a cope?
Cl. Col.
Cappe, syr; I say you be to bolde.
30
Se, howe he is wrapped for the colde:
Is it not a vestment?
Cl. Col.
A, ye wante a rope.
C. Count.
Tushe, it is Syr Johnn Double cloke.
Fan.
Syr, and yf ye wolde not be wrothe—
Cl. Col.
What sayst?
Fan.
Here was to lytell clothe.
Cl. Col.
A, Fansy, Fansy, God sende thé brayne!
Fan.
Ye, for your wyt is cloked for the rayne.
Cr. Con.
Nay, lette vs not clatter thus styll.
Cl. Col.
Tell me, syrs, what is your wyll.
C. Count.
Syr, it is so that these twayne
With Magnyfycence in housholde do remayne;
And there they wolde haue me to dwell,
But I wyll be ruled after your counsell.
Fan.
Mary, so wyll we also.
Cl. Col.
But tell me where aboute ye go.
C. Count.
By God, we wolde gete vs all thyder,
Spell the remenaunt, and do togyder.
Cl. Col.
Hath Magnyfycence ony tresure?
Cr. Con.
Ye, but he spendeth it all in mesure.
Cl. Col.
Why, dwelleth Mesure where ye two dwell?
In faythe, he were better to dwell in hell.
Fan.
Yet where we wonne, nowe there wonneth he.
Cl. Col.
And haue you not amonge you Lyberte?
C. Count.
Ye, but he is a captyuyte.
31
What, the deuyll, howe may that be?
C. Count.
I can not tell you: why aske you me?
Aske these two that there dothe dwell.
Cl. Col.
Syr, the playnesse you tell me.
Cr. Con.
There dwelleth a mayster men calleth Mesure—
Fan.
Ye, and he hath rule of all his tresure.
Cr. Con.
Nay, eyther let me tell, or elles tell ye.
Fan.
I care not I, tell on for me.
C. Count.
I pray God let you neuer to thee!
Cl. Col.
What the deuyll ayleth you? can you not agree?
Cr. Con.
I wyll passe ouer the cyrcumstaunce,
And shortly shewe you the hole substaunce.
Fansy and I, we twayne,
With Magnyfycence in housholde do remayne,
And counterfeted our names we haue
Craftely all thynges vpryght to saue,
His name Largesse, Surueyaunce myne:
Magnyfycence to vs begynneth to enclyne
Counterfet Countenaunce to haue also,
And wolde that we sholde for hym go.
C. Count.
But shall I haue myne olde name styll?
Cr. Con.
Pease, I haue not yet sayd what I wyll.
32
Here is a pystell of a postyke!
Cl. Col.
Tusshe, fonnysshe Fansy, thou arte frantyke.
Tell on, syr, howe then?
Cr. Con.
Mary, syr, he tolde vs, when
We had hym founde, we sholde hym brynge,
And that we fayled not for nothynge.
Cl. Col.
All this ye may easely brynge aboute.
Fan.
Mary, the better and Mesure were out.
Cl. Col.
Why, can ye not put out that foule freke?
Cr. Con.
No, in euery corner he wyll peke,
So that we haue no lyberte,
Nor no man in courte but he,
For Lyberte he hath in gydyng.
C. Count.
In fayth, and without Lyberte there is no bydyng.
Fan.
In fayth, and Lybertyes rome is there but small.
Cl. Col.
Hem! that lyke I nothynge at all.
Cr. Con.
But, Counterfet Countenaunce, go we togyder,
All thre, I say.
C. Count.
Shall I go? whyder?
Cr. Con.
To Magnyfycence with vs twayne,
And in his seruyce thé to retayne.
C. Count.
But then, syr, what shall I hyght?
33
Ye and I talkyd therof to nyght.
Fan.
Ye, my fansy, was out of owle flyght,
For it is out of my mynde quyght.
Cr. Con.
And nowe it cometh to my remembraunce:
Syr, ye shall hyght Good Demeynaunce.
C. Count.
By the armes of Calys, well conceyued!
Cr. Con.
When we haue hym thyder conuayed,
What and I frame suche a slyght,
That Fansy with his fonde consayte
Put Magnyfycence in suche a madnesse,
That he shall haue you in the stede of sadnesse,
And Sober Sadnesse shalbe your name?
Cl. Col.
By Cockys body, here begynneth the game!
For then shall we so craftely cary,
That Mesure shall not there longe tary.
Fan.
For Cockys harte, tary whylyst that I come agayne.
Cr. Con.
We wyll se you shortly one of vs twayne.
C. Count.
Now let vs go, and we shall, then.
Cl. Col.
Nowe let se quyte you lyke praty men.
34
To passe the tyme and order whyle a man may talke
Of one thynge and other to occupy the place;
Then for the season that I here shall walke,
As good to be occupyed as vp and downe to trace
And do nothynge; how be it full lytell grace
There cometh and groweth of my comynge,
For Clokyd Colusyon is a perylous thynge.
Double delynge and I be all one;
Craftynge and haftynge contryued is by me;
I can dyssemble, I can bothe laughe and grone;
Playne delynge and I can neuer agre;
But dyuysyon, dyssencyon, dyrysyon, these thre
And I am counterfet of one mynde and thought,
By the menys of myschyef to bryng all thynges to nought.
And though I be so odyous a geste,
And euery man gladly my company wolde refuse,
In faythe yet am I occupyed with the best;
Full fewe that can themselfe of me excuse.
Whan other men laughe, than study I and muse,
Deuysynge the meanes and wayes that I can,
Howe I may hurte and hynder euery man:
Two faces in a hode couertly I bere,
Water in the one hande, and fyre in the other;
I can fede forth a fole, and lede hym by the eyre;
Falshode in felowshyp is my sworne brother.
By cloked colusyon, I say, and none other,
35
From that lorde to that lorde I rode and I ran,
And flatered them with fables fayre before theyr face,
And tolde all the myschyef I coude behynde theyr backe,
And made as I had knowen nothynge of the case;
I wolde begyn all myschyef, but I wolde bere no lacke:
Thus can I lerne you, syrs, to bere the deuyls sacke;
And yet, I trowe, some of you be better sped than I
Frendshyp to fayne, and thynke full lytherly.
Paynte to a purpose good countenaunce I can,
And craftely can I grope howe euery man is mynded;
My purpose is to spy and to poynte euery man;
My tonge is with fauell forked and tyned:
By Cloked Colusyon thus many one is begyled.
Eche man to hynder I gape and I gaspe;
My speche is all pleasure, but I stynge lyke a waspe:
I am neuer glad but whan I may do yll,
And neuer am I sory but whan that I se
I can not myne apyetyte accomplysshe and fulfyll
In hynderaunce of welthe and prosperyte;
I laughe at all shrewdenes, and lye at lyberte.
36
I sowe sedycyous sedes of dyscorde and debates:
To flater and to flery is all my pretence
Amonge all suche persones as I well vnderstonde
Be lyght of byleue and hasty of credence;
I make them to startyll and sparkyll lyke a bronde,
I moue them, I mase them, I make them so fonde,
That they wyll here no man but the fyrst tale:
And so by these meanes I brewe moche bale.
Hic ingrediatur Courtly Abusyon cantando.
Court. Ab.
Huffa, huffa, taunderum, taunderum, tayne, huffa, huffa!
Cl. Col.
This was properly prated, syrs! what sayd a?
Court. Ab.
Rutty bully, ioly rutterkyn, heyda!
Cl. Col.
De que pays este vous?
Et faciat tanquam exiat beretrum cronice.
Court. Ab.
Decke your hofte and couer a lowce.
Cl. Col.
Say vous chaunter Venter tre dawce?
Court. Ab.
Wyda, wyda.
Howe sayst thou, man? am not I a ioly rutter?
37
Gyue this gentylman rome, syrs, stonde vtter!
By God, syr, what nede all this waste?
What is this, a betell, or a batowe, or a buskyn lacyd?
Court. Ab.
What, wenyst thou that I knowe thé not, Clokyd Colusyon?
Cl. Col.
And wenyst thou that I knowe not thé, cankard Abusyon?
Court. Ab.
Cankard Jacke Hare, loke thou be not rusty;
For thou shalt well knowe I am nother durty nor dusty.
Cl. Col.
Dusty! nay, syr, ye be all of the lusty,
Howe be it of scape thryfte your clokes smelleth musty:
But whether art thou walkynge in faythe vnfaynyd?
Court. Ab.
Mary, with Magnyfycence I wolde be retaynyd.
Cl. Col.
By the masse, for the cowrte thou art a mete man:
Thy slyppers they swap it, yet thou fotys it lyke a swanne.
Court. Ab.
Ye, so I can deuyse my gere after the cowrtly maner.
Cl. Col.
So thou arte personable to bere a prynces baner.
38
Court. Ab.
Nay, thou art a man good inough but for thy false hart.
Cl. Col.
Well, and I be a coward, ther is mo than I.
Court. Ab.
Ye, in faythe, a bolde man and a hardy.
Cl. Col.
A bolde man in a bole of newe ale in cornys.
Court. Ab.
Wyll ye se this gentylman is all in his skornys?
Cl. Col.
But are ye not auysed to dwell where ye spake?
Court. Ab.
I am of fewe wordys, I loue not to barke.
Beryst thou any rome, or cannyst thou do ought?
Cannyst thou helpe in fauer that I myght be brought?
Cl. Col.
I may do somwhat, and more I thynke shall.
39
Court. Ab.
Cockys harte, who is yonde that for thé dothe call?
Cr. Con.
Nay, come at ones, for the armys of the dyce!
Court. Ab.
Cockys armys, he hath callyd for thé twyce.
Cl. Col.
By Cockys harte, and call shall agayne:
To come to me, I trowe, he shalbe fayne.
Court. Ab.
What, is thy harte pryckyd with such a prowde pynne?
Cl. Col.
Tushe, he that hath nede, man, let hym rynne.
Cr. Con.
Nay, come away, man: thou playst the cayser.
Cl. Col.
By the masse, thou shalt byde my leyser.
Cr. Con.
Abyde, syr, quod he! mary, so I do.
Court. Ab.
He wyll come, man, when he may tende to.
Cr. Con.
What the deuyll, who sent for thé?
Cl. Col.
Here he is nowe, man; mayst thou not se?
40
What the deuyll, man, what thou menyst?
Art thou so angry as thou semyst?
Court. Ab.
What the deuyll, can ye agre no better?
Cr. Con.
What the deuyll, where had we this ioly ietter?
Cl. Col.
What sayst thou, man? why dost thou not supplye,
And desyre me thy good mayster to be?
Court. Ab.
Spekest thou to me?
Cl. Col.
Ye, so tell thé.
Court. Ab.
Cockes bones, I ne tell can
Whiche of you is the better man,
Or whiche of you can do most.
Cr. Con.
In fayth, I rule moche of the rost.
Cl. Col.
Rule the roste! ye, thou woldest
As skante thou had no nede of me.
Cr. Con.
Nede! yes, mary, I say not nay.
Court. Ab.
Cockes ha[r]te, I trowe thou wylte make a fray.
Cr. Con.
Nay, in good faythe, it is but the gyse.
Cl. Col.
No, for, or we stryke, we wyll be aduysed twyse.
Court. Ab.
What the deuyll, vse ye not to drawe no swordes?
Cr. Con.
No, by my trouthe, but crake grete wordes.
41
Why, is this the gyse nowe adayes?
Cl. Col.
Ye, for surety, ofte peas is taken for frayes.
But, syr, I wyll haue this man with me.
Cr. Con.
Conuey yourselfe fyrst, let se.
Cl. Col.
Well, tarry here tyll I for you sende.
Cr. Con.
Why, shall he be of your bende?
Cl. Col.
Tary here: wote ye what I say?
Court. Ab.
I waraunt you, I wyll not go away.
Cr. Con.
By Saynt Mary, he is a tawle man.
Cl. Col.
Ye, and do ryght good seruyce he can;
I knowe in hym no defaute
But that the horson is prowde and hawte.
And so they go out of the place.
Court. Ab.
Nay, purchace ye a pardon for the pose,
For pryde hath plucked thé by the nose,
As well as me: I wolde, and I durste,
But nowe I wyll not say the worste. Courtly Abusyon alone in the place.
What nowe, let se,
Who loketh on me
Well rounde aboute,
Howe gay and howe stoute
That I can were
Courtly my gere:
42
So plesauntly,
My robe russheth
So ruttyngly,
Me seme I flye,
I am so lyght,
To daunce delyght;
Properly drest,
All poynte deuyse,
My persone prest
Beyonde all syse
Of the newe gyse,
To russhe it oute
In euery route:
Beyonde measure
My sleue is wyde,
Al of pleasure,
My hose strayte tyde,
My buskyn wyde,
Ryche to beholde,
Gletterynge yn golde.
Abusyon
Forsothe I hyght:
Confusyon
Shall on hym lyght,
By day or by nyght
That vseth me;
He can not thee.
A very fon,
A very asse,
43
To compasse
That neuer was
Abusyd before;
A very pore
That so wyll do,
He doth abuse
Hym selfe to to,
He dothe mysse vse
Eche man take a fe
To crake and prate;
I befoule his pate.
This newe fonne iet
From out of Fraunce
Fyrst I dyd set;
Made purueaunce
And suche ordenaunce,
That all men it founde
Through out Englonde:
All this nacyon
I set on fyre
In my facyon,
This theyr desyre,
This newe atyre;
This ladyes haue,
I it them gaue;
Spare for no coste;
And yet in dede
44
Moche more than nede
For to excede
In suche aray:
Howe be it, I say,
A carlys sonne,
Brought vp of nought,
Wyth me wyll wonne
Whylyst he hath ought;
He wyll haue wrought
His gowne so wyde
That he may hyde
His dame and his syre
Within his slyue;
Spende all his hyre,
That men hym gyue;
Wherfore I preue,
A Tyborne checke
Shall breke his necke. Here cometh in Fansy, craynye, Stow stow!
All is out of harre,
And out of trace,
Ay warre and warre
In euery place.
But what the deuyll art thou,
That cryest, Stow, stow?
Fan.
What, whom haue we here, Jenkyn Joly?
Nowe welcom, by the God holy.
45
What, Fansy, my frende! howe doste thou fare?
Fan.
By Cryst, as mery as a Marche hare.
Court. Ab.
What the deuyll hast thou on thy fyste? an owle?
Fan.
Nay, it is a farly fowle.
Court. Ab.
Me thynke she frowneth and lokys sowre.
Fan.
Torde, man, it is an hawke of the towre;
She is made for the malarde fat.
Court. Ab.
Methynke she is well becked to catche a rat.
But nowe what tydynges can you tell, let se.
Fan.
Mary, I am come for thé.
Court. Ab.
For me?
Fan.
Ye, for thé, so I say.
Court. Ab.
Howe so? tell me, I thé pray.
Fan.
Why, harde thou not of the fray,
That fell amonge vs this same day
Court. Ab.
No, mary, not yet.
Fan.
What the deuyll, neuer a whyt?
Court. Ab.
No, by the masse; what sholde I swere?
Fan.
In faythe, Lyberte is nowe a lusty spere.
Court. Ab.
Why, vnder whom was he abydynge?
Fan.
Mary, Mesure had hym a whyle in gydynge,
Tyll, as the deuyll wolde, they fell a chydynge
With Crafty Conuayaunce.
Court. Ab.
Ye, dyd they so?
46
Ye, by Goddes sacrament, and with other mo.
Court. Ab.
What neded that, in the dyuyls date?
Fan.
Yes, yes, he fell with me also at debate.
Court. Ab.
With thé also? what, he playeth the state?
Fan.
Ye, but I bade hym pyke out of the gate,
By Goddes body, so dyd I.
Court. Ab.
By the masse, well done and boldely.
Fan.
Holde thy pease, Measure shall frome vs walke.
Court. Ab.
Why, is he crossed than with a chalke?
Fan.
Crossed! ye, checked out of consayte.
Court. Ab.
Howe so?
Fan.
By God, by a praty slyght,
As here after thou shalte knowe more:
But I must tary here; go thou before.
Court. Ab.
With whom shall I there mete?
Fan.
Crafty Conueyaunce standeth in the strete,
Euen of purpose for the same.
Court. Ab.
Ye, but what shall I call my name?
Fan.
Cockes harte, tourne thé, let me se thyne aray:
Cockes bones, this is all of Johnn de gay.
Court. Ab.
So I am poynted after my consayte.
Fan.
Mary, thou iettes it of hyght.
Court. Ab.
Ye, but of my name let vs be wyse.
Fan.
Mary, Lusty Pleasure, by myne aduyse,
To name thyselfe, come of, it were done.
47
Farewell, my frende.
Fan.
Adue, tyll sone.
Stowe, byrde, stowe, stowe!
It is best I fede my hawke now.
There is many euyll faueryd, and thou be foule;
Eche thynge is fayre when it is yonge: all hayle, owle!
Lo, this is
My fansy, I wys:
Nowe Cryst it blysse!
It is, by Jesse,
A byrde full swete,
For me full mete:
She is furred for the hete
All to the fete;
Her browys bent,
Her eyen glent:
Frome Tyne to Trent,
From Stroude to Kent,
A man shall fynde
Many of her kynde,
Howe standeth the wynde
Before or behynde:
Barbyd lyke a nonne,
For burnynge of the sonne;
Her fethers donne;
Well faueryd bonne.
Nowe, let me se about,
48
Yf I can fynde out
So semely a snowte
Amonge this prese:
Euen a hole mese—
Pease, man, pease!
I rede, we sease.
So farly fayre as it lokys,
And her becke so comely crokys,
Her naylys sharpe as tenter hokys!
I haue not kept her yet thre wokys,
And howe styll she dothe syt!
Teuyt, teuyt, where is my wyt?
The deuyll spede whyt!
That was before, I set behynde;
Nowe to curteys, forthwith vnkynde;
Somtyme to sober, somtyme to sadde,
Somtyme to mery, somtyme to madde;
Somtyme I syt as I were solempe prowde;
Somtyme I laughe ouer lowde;
Somtyme I wepe for a gew gaw;
Somtyme I laughe at waggynge of a straw;
With a pere my loue you may wynne,
And ye may lese it for a pynne.
I haue a thynge for to say,
And I may tende therto for play;
But in faythe I am so occupyed
On this halfe and on euery syde,
That I wote not where I may rest.
Fyrst to tell you what were best,
49
My wyttys be weke, my braynys are lyght:
For it is I that other whyle
Plucke downe lede, and theke with tyle;
Nowe I wyll this, and nowe I wyll that;
Make a wyndmyll of a mat;
Nowe I wolde, and I wyst what;
Where is my cappe? I haue lost my hat;
And within an houre after,
Plucke downe an house, and set vp a rafter;
Hyder and thyder, I wote not whyder;
Do and vndo, bothe togyder;
Of a spyndell I wyll make a sparre;
All that I make, forthwith I marre;
I blunder, I bluster, I blowe, and I blother;
I make on the one day, and I marre on the other;
Bysy, bysy, and euer bysy,
I daunce vp and downe tyll I am dyssy;
I can fynde fantasyes where none is;
I wyll not haue it so, I wyll haue it this.
Hic ingrediatur Foly, quatiendo crema et faciendo multum, feriendo tabulas et similia.
Fol.
Maysters, Cryst saue euerychone!
What, Fansy, arte thou here alone?
50
What, fonnysshe Foly! I befole thy face.
Fol.
What, frantyke Fansy in a foles case!
What is this, an owle or a glede?
By my trouthe, she hathe a grete hede.
Fan.
Tusshe, thy lyppes hange in thyne eye:
It is a Frenche butterflye.
Fol.
By my trouthe, I trowe well;
But she is lesse a grete dele
Than a butterflye of our lande.
Fan.
What pylde curre ledest thou in thy hande?
Fol.
A pylde curre!
Fan.
Ye so, I tell thé, a pylde curre.
Fol.
Yet I solde his skynne to Mackemurre,
In the stede of a budge furre.
Fan.
What, fleyest thou his skynne euery yere?
Fol.
Yes, in faythe, I thanke God I may here.
Fan.
What, thou wylte coughe me a dawe for forty pens?
Fol.
Mary, syr, Cokermowthe is a good way hens.
Fan.
What? of Cokermowth spake I no worde.
Fol.
By my faythe, syr, the frubyssher hath my sworde.
Fan.
A, I trowe, ye shall coughe me a fole.
Fol.
In faythe, trouthe ye say, we wente togyder to scole.
Fan.
Ye, but I can somwhat more of the letter.
Fol.
I wyll not gyue an halfepeny for to chose the better.
51
But, broder Foly, I wonder moche of one thynge,
That thou so hye fro me doth sprynge,
And I so lytell alway styll.
Fol.
By God, I can tell thé, and I wyll.
Thou art so feble fantastycall,
And so braynsyke therwithall,
And thy wyt wanderynge here and there,
That thou cannyst not growe out of thy boyes gere;
And as for me, I take but one folysshe way,
And therfore I growe more on one day
Than thou can in yerys seuen.
Fan.
In faythe, trouth thou sayst nowe, by God of heuen!
For so with fantasyes my wyt dothe flete,
That wysdome and I shall seldome mete.
Nowe, of good felowshyp, let me by thy dogge.
Fol.
Cockys harte, thou lyest, I am no hogge.
Fan.
Here is no man that callyd thé hogge nor swyne.
Fol.
In faythe, man, my brayne is as good as thyne.
Fan.
The deuyls torde for thy brayne!
Fol.
By my syers soule, I fele no rayne.
Fan.
By the masse, I holde thé madde.
Fol.
Mary, I knewe thé when thou waste a ladde.
Fan.
Cockys bonys, herde ye euer syke another?
52
Ye, a fole the tone, and a fole the tother.
Fan.
Nay, but wotest thou what I do say?
Fol.
Why, sayst thou that I was here yesterday?
Fan.
Cockys armys, this is a warke, I trowe.
Fol.
What, callyst thou me a donnyshe crowe?
Fan.
Nowe, in good faythe, thou art a fonde gest.
Fol.
Ye, bere me this strawe to a dawys nest.
Fan.
What, wenyst thou that I were so folysshe and so fonde?
Fol.
In faythe, ellys is there none in all Englonde.
Fan.
Yet for my fansy sake, I say,
Let me haue thy dogge, what soeuer I pay.
Fol.
Thou shalte haue my purse, and I wyll haue thyne.
Fan.
By my trouth, there is myne.
Fol.
Nowe, by my trouth, man, take, there is myne;
And I beshrowe hym that hath the worse.
Fan.
Torde, I say, what haue I do?
Here is nothynge but the bockyll of a sho,
And in my purse was twenty marke.
Fol.
Ha, ha, ha! herke, syrs, harke!
For all that my name hyght Foly,
By the masse, yet art thou more fole than I.
Fan.
Yet gyue me thy dogge, and I am content;
And thou shalte haue my hauke to a botchment.
53
That euer thou thryue, God it forfende!
For, Goddes cope, thou wyll spende.
Nowe take thou my dogge, and gyue me thy fowle.
Fan.
Hay, chysshe, come hyder!
Fol.
Nay, torde, take hym be tyme.
Fan.
What callyst thou thy dogge?
Fol.
Tusshe, his name is Gryme.
Fan.
Come, Gryme, come, Gryme! it is my praty dogges.
Fol.
In faythe, there is not a better dogge for hogges,
Not from Anwyke vnto Aungey.
Fan.
Ye, but trowest thou that he be not maungey?
Fol.
No, by my trouthe, it is but the scurfe and the scabbe.
Fan.
What, he hathe ben hurte with a stabbe?
Fol.
Nay, in faythe, it was but a strype
That the horson had for etynge of a trype.
Fan.
Where the deuyll gate he all these hurtes?
Fol.
By God, for snatchynge of puddynges and wortes.
Fan.
What, then he is some good poore mannes curre?
Fol.
Ye, but he wyll in at euery mannes dore.
Fan.
Nowe thou hast done me a pleasure grete.
Fol.
In faythe, I wolde thou had a marmosete.
54
Cockes harte, I loue suche iapes.
Fol.
Ye, for all thy mynde is on owles and apes.
But I haue thy pultre, and thou hast my catell.
Fan.
Ye, but thryfte and we haue made a batell.
Fol.
Remembrest thou not the iapes and the toyes—
Fan.
What, that we vsed whan we were boyes?
Fol.
Ye, by the rode, euen the same.
Fan.
Yes, yes, I am yet as full of game
As euer I was, and as full of tryfyls,
Nil, nihilum, nihil, anglice nyfyls.
Fol.
What canest thou all this Latyn yet,
And hast so mased a wandrynge wyt?
Fan.
Tushe, man, I kepe some Latyn in store.
Fol.
By Cockes harte, I wene thou hast no more.
Fan.
No? yes, in faythe, I can versyfy.
Fol.
Then, I pray thé hartely,
Make a verse of my butterfly;
It forseth not of the reason, so it kepe ryme.
Fan.
But wylte thou make another on Gryme?
Fol.
Nay, in fayth, fyrst let me here thyne.
Fan.
Mary, as for that, thou shalte sone here myne:
Est snavi snago with a shrewde face vilis imago.
Fol.
Grimbaldus gredy, snatche a puddyng tyl the rost be redy.
55
By the harte of God, well done!
Fol.
Ye, so redely and so sone!
Here cometh in Crafty Conueyaunce.
Cr. Con.
What, Fansy! Let me se who is the tother.
Fan.
By God, syr, Foly, myne owne sworne brother.
Cr. Con.
Cockys bonys, it is a farle freke:
Can he play well at the hoddypeke?
Fan.
Tell by thy trouth what sport can thou make.
Fol.
A, holde thy peas; I haue the tothe ake.
Cr. Con.
The tothe ake! lo, a torde ye haue.
Fol.
Ye, thou haste the four quarters of a knaue.
Cr. Con.
Wotyst thou, I say, to whom thou spekys?
Fan.
Nay, by Cockys harte, he ne reckys,
For he wyll speke to Magnyfycence thus.
Cr. Con.
Cockys armys, a mete man for vs.
Fol.
What, wolde ye haue mo folys, and are so many?
Fan.
Nay, offer hym a counter in stede of a peny.
Cr. Con.
Why, thynkys thou he can no better skyll?
Fol.
In fayth, I can make you bothe folys, and I wyll.
56
What haste thou on thy fyst? a kesteryll?
Fol.
Nay, I wys, fole, it is a doteryll.
Cr. Con.
In a cote thou can play well the dyser.
Fol.
Ye, but thou can play the fole without a vyser.
Fan.
Howe rode he by you? howe put he to you?
Cr. Con.
Mary, as thou sayst, he gaue me a blurre.
But where gatte thou that mangey curre?
Fan.
Mary, it was his, and nowe it is myne.
Cr. Con.
And was it his, and nowe it is thyne?
Thou must haue thy fansy and thy wyll,
But yet thou shalt holde me a fole styll.
Fol.
Why, wenyst thou that I cannot make thé play the fon?
Fan.
Yes, by my faythe, good Syr Johnn.
Cr. Con.
For you bothe it were inough.
Fol.
Why, wenyst thou that I were as moche a fole as thou?
Fan.
Nay, nay, thou shalte fynde hym another maner of man.
Fol.
In faythe, I can do mastryes, so I can.
Cr. Con.
What canest thou do but play cocke wat?
Fan.
Yes, yes, he wyll make thé ete a gnat.
57
Yes, yes, by my trouth, I holde thé a grote,
That I shall laughe thé out of thy cote.
Cr. Con.
Than wyll I say that thou haste no pere.
Fan.
Nowe, by the rode, and he wyll go nere.
Fol.
Hem, Fansy! regardes, voyes.
Here Foly maketh semblaunt to take a lowse from Crafty Conueyaunce showlder.
Fan.
What hast thou founde there?
Fol.
By God, a lowse.
Cr. Con.
By Cockes harte, I trowe thou lyste.
Fol.
By the masse, a Spaynysshe moght with a gray lyste.
Fan.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Cr. Con.
Cockes armes, it is not so, I trowe.
Here Crafty Conu[ey]aunce putteth of his gowne.
Fol.
Put on thy gowne agayne, for nowe thou hast lost.
Fan.
Lo, Johnn a Bonam, where is thy brayne?
Nowe put on, fole, thy cote agayne.
Fol.
Gyue me my grote, for thou hast lost. Here Foly maketh semblaunt to take money of Crafty Conueyaunce, saynge to hym,
Shyt thy purse, dawe, and do no cost.
58
Nowe hast thou not a prowde mocke and a starke?
Cr. Con.
With, yes, by the rode of Wodstocke Parke.
Fan.
Nay, I tell thé, he maketh no dowtes
To tourne a fole out of his clowtes.
Cr. Con.
And for a fole a man wolde hym take.
Fol.
Nay, it is I that foles can make;
For, be he cayser or be he kynge,
To felowshyp with Foly I can hym brynge.
Fan.
Nay, wylte thou here nowe of his scoles,
And what maner of people he maketh foles?
Cr. Con.
Ye, let vs here a worde or twayne.
Fol.
Syr, of my maner I shall tell you the playne.
Fyrst I lay before them my bybyll,
And teche them howe they sholde syt ydyll,
To pyke theyr fyngers all the day longe;
So in theyr eyre I synge them a songe,
And make them so longe to muse,
That some of them renneth strayght to the stuse;
To thefte and bryboury I make some fall,
And pyke a locke and clyme a wall;
And where I spy a nysot gay,
That wyll syt ydyll all the day,
And can not set herselfe to warke,
I kyndell in her suche a lyther sparke,
That rubbed she must be on the gall
Bytwene the tappet and the wall.
Cr. Con.
What, horson, arte thou such a one?
59
Nay, beyonde all other set hym alone.
Cr. Con.
Hast thou ony more? let se, procede.
Fol.
Ye, by God, syr, for a nede,
I haue another maner of sorte,
That I laugh at for my dysporte;
And those be they that come vp of nought,
As some be not ferre, and yf it were well sought:
Suche dawys, what soeuer they be,
That be set in auctorite,
Anone he waxyth so hy and prowde,
He frownyth fyersly, brymly browde,
The knaue wolde make it koy, and he cowde;
All that he dothe, muste be alowde;
And, This is not well done, syr, take hede;
And maketh hym besy where is no nede:
He dawnsys so longe, hey, troly loly,
That euery man lawghyth at his foly.
Cr. Con.
By the good Lorde, truthe he sayth.
Fan.
Thynkyst thou not so, by thy fayth?
Cr. Con.
Thynke I not so, quod he! ellys haue I shame,
For I knowe dyuerse that vseth the same.
Fol.
But nowe, forsothe, man, it maketh no mater;
For they that wyll so bysely smater,
So helpe me God, man, euer at the length
I make hym lese moche of theyr strength;
60
That wyt he wantyth when he hath moste nede.
Fan.
Forsothe, tell on: hast thou any mo?
Fol.
Yes, I shall tell you, or I go,
Of dyuerse mo that hauntyth my scolys.
Cr. Con.
All men beware of suche folys!
Fol.
There be two lyther, rude and ranke,
Symkyn Tytyuell and Pers Pykthanke;
Theys lythers I lerne them for to lere
What he sayth and she sayth to lay good ere,
And tell to his sufferayne euery whyt,
And then he is moche made of for his wyt;
And, be the mater yll more or lesse,
He wyll make it mykyll worse than it is:
But all that he dothe, and yf he reken well,
It is but foly euery dell.
Fan.
Are not his wordys cursydly cowchyd?
Cr. Con.
By God, there be some that be shroudly towchyd:
But, I say, let se and yf thou haue any more.
Fol.
I haue an hole armory of suche haburdashe in store;
For there be other that foly dothe vse,
That folowe fonde fantasyes and vertu refuse.
Fan.
Nay, that is my parte that thou spekest of nowe.
Fol.
So is all the remenaunt, I make God auowe;
For thou fourmest suche fantasyes in theyr mynde,
That euery man almost groweth out of kynde.
61
By the masse, I am glad that I came hyder,
To here you two rutters dyspute togyder.
Fan.
Nay, but Fansy must be eyther fyrst or last.
Fol.
But whan Foly cometh, all is past.
Fan.
I wote not whether it cometh of thé or of me,
But all is foly that I can se.
Cr. Con.
Mary, syr, ye may swere it on a boke.
Fol.
Ye, tourne ouer the lefe, rede there and loke,
Howe frantyke Fansy fyrst of all
Maketh man and woman in foly to fall.
Cr. Con.
A, syr, a, a! howe by that!
Fan.
A peryllous thynge, to cast a cat
Vpon a naked man, and yf she scrat.
Fol.
So how, I say, the hare is squat!
For, frantyke Fansy, thou makest men madde;
And I, Foly, bryngeth them to qui fuit gadde,
With qui fuit brayne seke I haue them brought
From qui fuit aliquid to shyre shakynge nought.
Cr. Con.
Well argued and surely on bothe sydes:
But for thé, Fansy, Magnyfycence abydes.
Fan.
Why, shall I not haue Foly with me also?
Cr. Con.
Yes, perde, man, whether that ye ryde or go:
62
Fan.
By the masse, he shall hyght Consayte.
Cr. Con.
Not a better name vnder the sonne:
With Magnyfycence thou shalte wonne.
Fol.
God haue mercy, good godfather.
Cr. Con.
Yet I wolde that ye had gone rather;
For, as sone as you come in Magnyfycence syght,
All mesure and good rule is gone quyte.
Fan.
And shall we haue lyberte to do what we wyll?
Cr. Con.
Ryot at lyberte russheth it out styll.
Fol.
Ye, but tell me one thynge.
Cr. Con.
What is that?
Fol.
Who is mayster of the masshe fat?
Fan.
Ye, for he hathe a full dry soule.
Cr. Con.
Cockes armes, thou shalte kepe the brewhouse boule.
Fol.
But may I drynke therof whylest that I stare?
Cr. Con.
When mesure is gone, what nedest thou spare?
Whan mesure is gone, we may slee care.
Fol.
Nowe then goo we hens, away the mare!
Crafty Conueyaunce alone in the place.
Cr. Con.
It is wonder to se the worlde aboute,
To se what foly is vsed in euery place;
63
To put, where he lyst, Foly hath fre chace;
Foly and Fansy all where, euery man dothe face and brace;
Foly fotyth it properly, Fansy ledyth the dawnce;
And next come I after, Crafty Conueyaunce.
Who so to me gyueth good aduertence,
Shall se many thyngys donne craftely:
By me conueyed is wanton insolence,
Pryuy poyntmentys conueyed so properly,
For many tymes moche kyndnesse is denyed
For drede that we dare not ofte lest we be spyed;
By me is conueyed mykyll praty ware,
Somtyme, I say, behynde the dore for nede;
I haue an hoby can make larkys to dare;
I knyt togyther many a broken threde.
It is great almesse the hungre to fede,
To clothe the nakyd where is lackynge a smocke,
Trymme at her tayle, or a man can turne a socke:
What howe, be ye mery! was it not well conueyed?
As oft as ye lyst, so honeste be sauyd;
Alas, dere harte, loke that we be not perseyuyd!
Without crafte nothynge is well behauyd;
Though I shewe you curtesy, say not that I craue,
Yet conuey it craftely, and hardely spare not for me,
64
Thefte also and pety brybery
Without me be full oft aspyed;
My inwyt delynge there can no man dyscry,
Conuey it be crafte, lyft and lay asyde:
Full moche flatery and falsehode I hyde,
And by crafty conueyaunce I wyll, and I can,
Saue a stronge thefe and hange a trew man.
But some man wolde conuey, and can not skyll,
As malypert tauernars that checke with theyr betters,
Theyr conueyaunce weltyth the worke all by wyll;
And some wyll take vpon them to conterfet letters,
And therwithall conuey hymselfe into a payre of fetters;
And some wyll conuey by the pretence of sadnesse,
Tyll all theyr conueyaunce is turnyd into madnesse.
Crafty conueyaunce is no chyldlys game:
By crafty conueyaunce many one is brought vp of nought;
Crafty Conueyaunce can cloke hymselfe frome shame,
For by crafty conueyaunce wonderful thynges are wrought:
By conuayaunce crafty I haue brought
Vnto Magnyfyce[nce] a full vngracyous sorte,
For all hokes vnhappy to me haue resorte.
65
Magn.
Trust me, Lyberte, it greueth me ryght sore
To se you thus ruled and stande in suche awe.
Lyb.
Syr, as by my wyll, it shall be so no more.
Fel.
Yet lyberte without rule is not worth a strawe.
Magn.
Tushe, holde your peas, ye speke lyke a dawe;
Ye shall be occupyed, Welthe, at my wyll.
Cr. Con.
All that ye say, syr, is reason and skyll.
Magn.
Mayster Suruayour, where haue ye ben so longe?
Remembre ye not how my lyberte by mesure ruled was?
Cr. Con.
In good faythe, syr, me semeth he had the more wronge.
Lyb.
Mary, syr, so dyd he excede and passe,
They droue me to lernynge lyke a dull asse.
Fel.
It is good yet that lyberte be ruled by reason.
Magn.
Tushe, holde your peas, ye speke out of season:
Yourselfe shall be ruled by lyberte and largesse.
Fel.
I am content, so it in measure be.
Lyb.
Must mesure, in the mares name, you furnysshe and dresse?
Magn.
Nay, nay, not so, my frende Felycyte.
66
Not, and your grace wolde be ruled by me.
Lyb.
Nay, he shall be ruled euen as I lyst.
Fel.
Yet it is good to beware of Had I wyst.
Magn.
Syr, by lyberte and largesse I wyll that ye shall
Be gouerned and gyded: wote ye what I say?
Mayster Suruayour, Largesse to me call.
Cr. Con.
It shall be done.
Magn.
Ye, but byd hym come away
At ones, and let hym not tary all day.
Here goth out Crafty Conuayaunce.
Fel.
Yet it is good wysdome to worke wysely by welth.
Lyb.
Holde thy tonge, and thou loue thy helth.
Magn.
What, wyll ye waste wynde, and prate thus in vayne?
Ye haue eten sauce, I trowe, at the Taylers Hall.
Lyb.
Be not to bolde, my frende; I counsell you, bere a brayne.
Magn.
And what so we say, holde you content withall.
Fel.
Syr, yet without sapyence your substaunce may be smal;
For, where is no mesure, howe may worshyp endure?
Here cometh in Fansy.
Fan.
Syr, I am here at your pleasure;
Your grace sent for me, I wene; what is your wyll?
67
Come hyther, Largesse, take here Felycyte.
Fan.
Why, wene you that I can kepe hym longe styll?
Magn.
To rule as ye lyst, lo, here is Lyberte!
Lyb.
I am here redy.
Fan.
What, shall we haue welth at our gydynge to rule as we lyst?
Then fare well thryfte, by hym that crosse kyst!
Fel.
I truste your grace wyll be agreabyll
That I shall suffer none impechment
By theyr demenaunce nor losse repryuable.
Magn.
Syr, ye shall folowe myne appetyte and intent.
Fel.
So it be by mesure I am ryght well content.
Fan.
What, all by mesure, good syr, and none excesse?
Lyb.
Why, welth hath made many a man braynlesse.
Fel.
That was by the menys of to moche lyberte.
Magn.
What, can ye agree thus and appose?
Fel.
Syr, as I say, there was no faute in me.
Lyb.
Ye, of Jacke a thrommys bybyll can ye make a glose.
Fan.
Sore sayde, I tell you, and well to the purpose:
What sholde a man do with you? loke you vnderkay?
Fel.
I say, it is foly to gyue all welth away.
68
Whether sholde welth be rulyd by lyberte,
Or lyberte by welth? let se, tell me that.
Fel.
Syr, as me semeth, ye sholde be rulyd by me.
Magn.
What nede you with hym thus prate and chat?
Fan.
Shewe vs your mynde then, howe to do and what.
Magn.
I say, that I wyll ye haue hym in gydynge.
Lyb.
Mayster Felycyte, let be your chydynge,
And so as ye se it wyll be no better,
Take it in worthe suche as ye fynde.
Fan.
What the deuyll, man, your name shalbe the greter,
For welth without largesse is all out of kynde.
Lyb.
And welth is nought worthe, yf lyberte be behynde.
Magn.
Nowe holde ye content, for there is none other shyfte.
Fel.
Than waste must be welcome, and fare well thryfte!
Magn.
Take of his substaunce a sure inuentory,
And get thou home togyther; for Lyberte shall byde,
And wayte vpon me.
Lyb.
And yet for a memory,
Make indentures howe ye and I shal gyde.
69
I can do nothynge but he stonde besyde.
Lyb.
Syr, we can do nothynge the one without the other.
Magn.
Well, get you hens than, and sende me some other.
Fan.
Whom? lusty Pleasure, or mery Consayte?
Magn.
Nay, fyrst lusty Pleasure is my desyre to haue,
And let the other another awayte,
Howe be it that fonde felowe is a mery knaue;
But loke that ye occupye the auctoryte that I you gaue. [Here goeth out Felycyte, Lyberte, and Fansy.
Magnyfycence alone in the place.
For nowe, syrs, I am lyke as a prynce sholde be;
I haue welth at wyll, largesse and lyberte:
Fortune to her lawys can not abandune me,
But I shall of Fortune rule the reyne;
I fere nothynge Fortunes perplexyte;
All honour to me must nedys stowpe and lene;
I synge of two partys without a mene;
I haue wynde and wether ouer all to sayle,
No stormy rage agaynst me can peruayle.
Alexander, of Macedony kynge,
That all the oryent had in subieccyon,
70
Myght seem ryght wel vnder my proteccyon
To rayne, for all his marcyall affeccyon;
For I am prynce perlesse prouyd of porte,
Bathyd with blysse, embracyd with comforte.
Syrus, that soleme syar of Babylon,
That Israell releysyd of theyr captyuyte,
For al his pompe, for all his ryall trone,
He may not be comparyd vnto me.
I am the dyamounde dowtlesse of dygnyte:
Surely it is I that all may saue and spyll;
No man so hardy to worke agaynst my wyll.
Porcenya, the prowde prouoste of Turky lande,
That ratyd the Romaynes and made them yll rest,
Nor Cesar July, that no man myght withstande,
Were neuer halfe so rychely as I am drest:
No, that I assure you; loke who was the best.
I reyne in my robys, I rule as me lyst,
I dryue downe th[e]se dastardys with a dynt of my fyste.
Of Cato the counte acountyd the cane,
Daryus, the doughty cheftayn of Perse,
I set not by the prowdest of them a prane,
Ne by non other that any man can rehersse.
I folowe in felycyte without reue[r]sse,
I drede no daunger, I dawnce all in delyte;
My name is Magnyfycence, man most of myght.
Hercules the herdy, with his stobburne clobbyd mase,
71
And Thesius, that prowde was Pluto to face,
It wolde not become them with me for to mell:
For of all barones bolde I bere the bell,
Of all doughty I am doughtyest duke, as I deme;
To me all prynces to lowte man be sene.
Cherlemayne, that mantenyd the nobles of Fraunce,
Arthur of Albyan, for all his brymme berde,
Nor Basyan the bolde, for all his brybaunce,
Nor Alerycus, that rulyd the Gothyaunce by swerd,
Nor no man on molde can make me aferd.
What man is so maysyd with me that dare mete,
I shall flappe hym as a fole to fall at my fete.
Galba, whom his galantys garde for a gaspe,
Nor Nero, that nother set by God nor man,
Nor Vaspasyan, that bare in his nose a waspe,
Nor Hanyball agayne Rome gates that ranne,
Nor yet Cypyo, that noble Cartage wanne,
Nor none so hardy of them with me that durste crake,
But I shall frounce them on the foretop, and gar them to quake.
Here cometh in Courtly Abusyon, doynge reuerence and courtesy.
Court. Ab.
At your commaundement, syr, wyth all dew reuerence.
72
Welcom, Pleasure, to our magnyfycence.
Court. Ab.
Plesyth it your grace to shewe what I do shall?
Magn.
Let vs here of your pleasure to passe the tyme withall.
Court. Ab.
Syr, then with the fauour of your benynge sufferaunce
To shewe you my mynde myselfe I wyll auaunce,
If it lyke your grace to take it in degre.
Magn.
Yes, syr, so good man in you I se,
And in your delynge so good assuraunce,
That we delyte gretly in your dalyaunce.
Court. Ab.
A, syr, your grace me dothe extole and rayse,
And ferre beyond my merytys ye me commende and prayse;
Howe be it, I wolde be ryght gladde, I you assure,
Any thynge to do that myght be to your pleasure.
Magn.
As I be saued, with pleasure I am supprysyd
Of your langage, it is so well deuysed;
Pullyshyd and fresshe is your ornacy.
Court. Ab.
A, I wolde to God that I were halfe so crafty,
Or in electe vtteraunce halfe so eloquent,
As that I myght your noble grace content!
Magn.
Truste me, with you I am hyghly pleasyd,
For in my fauour I haue you feffyd and seasyd.
He is not lyuynge your maners can amend;
73
To here your comon, it is my hygh comforte;
Poynt deuyse all pleasure is your porte.
Court. Ab.
Syr, I am the better of your noble reporte;
But, of your pacyence vnder the supporte,
If it wolde lyke you to here my pore mynde—
Magn.
Speke, I beseche thé, leue nothynge behynde.
Court. Ab.
So as ye be a prynce of great myght,
It is semynge your pleasure ye delyte,
And to aqueynte you with carnall delectacyon,
And to fall in aquayntaunce with euery newe facyon;
And quyckely your appetytes to sharpe and adresse,
To fasten your fansy vpon a fayre maystresse,
That quyckly is enuyued with rudyes of the rose,
Inpurtured with fetures after your purpose,
The streynes of her vaynes as asure inde blewe,
Enbudded with beautye and colour fresshe of hewe,
As lyly whyte to loke vpon her leyre,
Her eyen relucent as carbuncle so clere,
Her mouthe enbawmed, dylectable and mery,
Her lusty lyppes ruddy as the chery:
Howe lyke you? ye lacke, syr, suche a lusty lasse.
74
A, that were a baby to brace and to basse!
I wolde I had, by hym that hell dyd harowe,
With me in kepynge suche a Phylyp sparowe!
I wolde hauke whylest my hede dyd warke,
So I myght hobby for suche a lusty larke.
These wordes in myne eyre they be so lustely spoken,
That on suche a female my flesshe wolde be wroken;
They towche me so thorowly, and tykyll my consayte,
That weryed I wolde be on suche a bayte:
A, Cockes armes, where myght suche one be founde?
Court. Ab.
Wyll ye spende ony money?
Magn.
Ye, a thousande pounde.
Court. Ab.
Nay, nay, for lesse I waraunt you to be sped,
And brought home, and layde in your bed.
Magn.
Wolde money, trowest thou, make suche one to the call?
Court. Ab.
Money maketh marchauntes, I tell you, over all.
Magn.
Why, wyl a maystres be wonne for money and for golde?
Court. Ab.
Why, was not for money Troy bothe bought and solde?
Full many a stronge cyte and towne hath ben wonne
75
A maystres, I tell you, is but a small thynge;
A goodly rybon, or a golde rynge,
May wynne with a sawte the fortresse of the holde;
But one thynge I warne you, prece forth and be bolde.
Magn.
Ye, but some be full koy and passynge harde harted.
Court. Ab.
But, blessyd be our Lorde, they wyll be sone conuerted.
Magn.
Why, wyll they then be intreted, the most and the lest?
Court. Ab.
Ye, for omnis mulier meretrix, si celari potest.
Magn.
A, I haue spyed ye can moche broken sorowe.
Court. Ab.
I coude holde you with suche talke hens tyll to morowe;
But yf it lyke your grace, more at large
Me to permyt my mynde to dyscharge,
I wolde yet shewe you further of my consayte.
Magn.
Let se what ye say, shewe it strayte.
Court. Ab.
Wysely let these wordes in your mynde be wayed:
By waywarde wylfulnes let eche thynge be conuayed;
What so euer ye do, folowe your owne wyll;
Be it reason or none, it shall not gretely skyll;
Be it ryght or wronge, by the aduyse of me,
76
And yf you se ony thynge agaynst your mynde,
Then some occacyon of quarell ye must fynde,
And frowne it and face it, as thoughe ye wolde fyght,
Frete yourselfe for anger and for dyspyte;
Here no man, what so euer they say,
But do as ye lyst, and take your owne way.
Magn.
Thy wordes and my mynde odly well accorde.
Court. Ab.
What sholde ye do elles? are not you a lorde?
Let your lust and lykynge stande for a lawe;
Be wrastynge and wrythynge, and away drawe.
And ye se a man that with hym ye be not pleased,
And that your mynde can not well be eased,
As yf a man fortune to touche you on the quyke,
Then feyne yourselfe dyseased and make yourselfe seke:
To styre vp your stomake you must you forge,
Call for a candell and cast vp your gorge;
With, Cockes armes, rest shall I none haue
Tyll I be reuenged on that horson knaue!
A, howe my stomake wambleth! I am all in a swete!
Is there no horson that knaue that wyll bete?
Magn.
By Cockes woundes, a wonder felowe thou arte;
77
Yet I am not harte seke, but that me lyst
For myrth I haue hym coryed, beten, and blyst,
Hym that I loued not and made hym to loute,
I am forthwith as hole as a troute;
For suche abusyon I vse nowe and than.
Court. Ab.
It is none abusyon, syr, in a noble man,
It is a pryncely pleasure and a lordly mynde;
Suche lustes at large may not be lefte behynde.
Here cometh in Cloked Colusyon with Mesure.
Cl. Col.
Stande styll here, and ye shall se
That for your sake I wyll fall on my kne.
Court. Ab.
Syr, Sober Sadnesse cometh, wherfore it be?
Magn.
Stande vp, syr, ye are welcom to me.
Cl. Col.
Please it your grace, at the contemplacyon
Of my pore instance and supplycacyon,
Tenderly to consyder in your aduertence,
Of our blessyd Lorde, syr, at the reuerence,
Remembre the good seruyce that Mesure hath you done,
And that ye wyll not cast hym away so sone.
Magn.
My frende, as touchynge to this your mocyon,
I may say to you I haue but small deuocyon;
78
Do as moche as for myne owne father.
Cl. Col.
Nay, syr, that affeccyon ought to be reserued,
For of your grace I haue it nought deserued;
But yf it lyke you that I myght rowne in your eyre,
To shewe you my mynde I wolde haue the lesse fere.
Magn.
Stande a lytell abacke, syr, and let hym come hyder.
Court. Ab.
With a good wyll, syr, God spede you bothe togyder.
Cl. Col.
Syr, so it is, this man is here by,
That for hym to laboure he hath prayde me hartely;
Notwithstandynge to you be it sayde,
To trust in me he is but dyssayued;
For, so helpe me God, for you he is not mete:
I speke the softlyer, because he sholde not wete.
Magn.
Come hyder, Pleasure, you shall here myne entent:
Mesure, ye knowe wel, with hym I can not be content,
And surely, as I am nowe aduysed,
I wyll haue hym rehayted and dyspysed.
Howe say ye, syrs? herein what is best?
Court. Ab.
By myne aduyse with you in fayth he shall not rest.
79
Yet, syr, reserued your better aduysement,
It were better he spake with you or he wente,
That he knowe not but that I haue supplyed
All that I can his matter for to spede.
Magn.
Nowe, by your trouthe, gaue he you not a brybe?
Cl. Col.
Yes, with his hande I made hym to subscrybe
A byll of recorde for an annuall rent.
Court. Ab.
But for all that he is lyke to haue a glent.
Cl. Col.
Ye, by my trouthe, I shall waraunt you for me,
And he go to the deu[y]ll, so that I may haue my fee,
What care I?
Magn.
By the masse, well sayd.
Court. Ab.
What force ye, so that ye be payde?
Cl. Col.
But yet, lo, I wolde, or that he wente,
Lest that he thought that his money were euyll spente,
That ye wolde loke on hym, thoughe it were not longe.
Magn.
Well cannest thou helpe a preest to synge a songe.
Cl. Col.
So it is all the maner nowe a dayes,
For to vse suche haftynge and crafty wayes.
Court. Ab.
He telleth you trouth, syr, as I you ensure.
80
Well, for thy sake the better I may endure
That he come hyder, and to gyue hym a loke
That he shall lyke the worse all this woke.
Cl. Col.
I care not howe sone he be refused,
So that I may craftely be excused.
Court. Ab.
Where is he?
Cl. Col.
Mary, I made hym abyde,
Whylest I came to you, a lytell here besyde.
Magn.
Well, call hym, and let vs here hym reason,
And we wyll be comonynge in the mene season.
Court. Ab.
This is a wyse man, syr, where so euer ye hym had.
Magn.
An honest person, I tell you, and a sad.
Court. Ab.
He can full craftely this matter brynge aboute.
Magn.
Whylest I haue hym, I nede nothynge doute.
Hic introducat Colusion Mesure, Magnyfycence aspectant[e] vultu elatissimo.
Cl. Col.
By the masse, I haue done that I can,
And more than euer I dyd for ony man:
I trowe, ye herde yourselfe what I sayd.
Mes.
Nay, indede; but I sawe howe ye prayed,
And made instance for me be lykelyhod.
Cl. Col.
Nay, I tell you, I am not wonte to fode
Them that dare put theyr truste in me;
And therof ye shall a larger profe se.
81
Syr, God rewarde you as ye haue deserued:
But thynke you with Magnyfycence I shal be reserued?
Cl. Col.
By my trouth, I can not tell you that;
But, and I were as ye, I wolde not set a gnat
By Magnyfycence, nor yet none of his,
For, go when ye shall, of you shall he mysse.
Mes.
Syr, as ye say.
Cl. Col.
Nay, come on with me:
Yet ones agayne I shall fall on my kne
For your sake, what so euer befall;
I set not a flye, and all go to all.
Mes.
The Holy Goost be with your grace.
Cl. Col.
Syr, I beseche you, let pety haue some place
In your brest towardes this gentylman.
Magn.
I was your good lorde tyll that ye beganne
So masterfully vpon you for to take
With my seruauntys, and suche maystryes gan make,
That holly my mynde with you is myscontente;
Wherfore I wyll that ye be resydent
With me no longer.
Cl. Col.
Say somwhat nowe, let se, for your selfe.
82
Syr, yf I myght permytted be,
I wolde to you say a worde or twayne.
Magn.
What, woldest thou, lurden, with me brawle agayne?
Haue hym hens, I say, out of my syght;
That day I se hym, I shall be worse all nyght.
[Here Mesure goth out of the place.
Court. Ab.
Hens, thou haynyarde, out of the dores fast!
Magn.
Alas, my stomake fareth as it wolde east!
Cl. Col.
Abyde, syr, abyde, let me holde your hede.
Magn.
A bolle or a basyn, I say, for Goddes brede!
A, my hede! But is the horson gone?
God gyue hym a myscheffe! Nay, nowe let me alone.
Cl. Col.
A good dryfte, syr, a praty fete:
By the good Lorde, yet your temples bete.
Magn.
Nay, so God me helpe, it was no grete vexacyon,
For I am panged ofte tymes of this same facyon.
Cl. Col.
Cockes armes, howe Pleasure plucked hym forth!
83
Ye, walke he must, it was no better worth.
Cl. Col.
Syr, nowe me thynke your harte is well eased.
Magn.
Nowe Measure is gone, I am the better pleased.
Cl. Col.
So to be ruled by measure, it is a payne.
Magn.
Mary, I wene he wolde not be glad to come agayne.
Cl. Col.
So I wote not what he sholde do here:
Where mennes belyes is mesured, there is no chere;
For I here but fewe men that gyue ony prayse
Vnto measure, I say, nowe a days.
Magn.
Measure, tut! what, the deuyll of hell!
Scantly one with measure that wyll dwell.
Cl. Col.
Not amonge noble men, as the worlde gothe:
It is no wonder therfore thoughe ye be wrothe
With Mesure. Where as all noblenes is, there I haue past:
They catche that catche may, kepe and holde fast,
Out of all measure themselfe to enryche;
No force what thoughe his neyghbour dye in a dyche.
With pollynge and pluckynge out of all measure,
Thus must ye stuffe and store your treasure.
Magn.
Yet somtyme, parde, I must vse largesse.
Cl. Col.
Ye, mary, somtyme in a messe of vergesse,
84
As gyuynge a thynge that ye neuer bought:
It is the gyse nowe, I say, ouer all;
Largesse in wordes, for rewardes are but small:
To make fayre promyse, what are ye the worse?
Let me haue the rule of your purse.
Magn.
I haue taken it to Largesse and Lyberte.
Cl. Col.
Than is it done as it sholde be:
But vse your largesse by the aduyse of me,
And I shall waraunt you welth and lyberte.
Magn.
Say on; me thynke your reasons be profounde.
Cl. Col.
Syr, of my counsayle this shall be the grounde,
To chose out ii. iii. of suche as you loue best,
And let all your fansyes vpon them rest;
Spare for no cost to gyue them pounde and peny,
Better to make iii. ryche than for to make many;
Gyue them more than ynoughe and let them not lacke,
And as for all other let them trusse and packe;
Plucke from an hundred, and gyue it to thre,
Let neyther patent scape them nor fee;
And where soeuer you wyll fall to a rekenynge,
Those thre wyll be redy euen at your bekenynge,
For then shall you haue at lyberte to lowte;
Let them haue all, and the other go without:
Thus ioy without mesure you shall haue.
85
Thou sayst truthe, by the harte that God me gaue!
For, as thou sayst, ryght so shall it be:
And here I make thé vpon Lyberte
To be superuysour, and on Largesse also,
For as thou wylte, so shall the game go;
For in Pleasure, and Surueyaunce, and also in thé,
I haue set my hole felycyte,
And suche as you wyll shall lacke no promocyon.
Cl. Col.
Syr, syth that in me ye haue suche deuocyon,
Commyttynge to me and to my felowes twayne
Your welthe and felycyte, I trust we shall optayne
To do you seruyce after your appetyte.
Magn.
In faythe, and your seruyce ryght well shall I acquyte;
And therfore hye you hens, and take this ouersyght.
Cl. Col.
Nowe, Jesu preserue you, syr, prynce most of myght!
Here goth Cloked Colusyon awaye, and leueth Magnyfycence alone in the place.
Magn.
Thus, I say, I am enuyronned with solace;
I drede no dyntes of fatall desteny.
Well were that lady myght stande in my grace,
Me to enbrace and loue moost specyally:
86
So I wolde clepe her, so I wolde kys her swete!
Here cometh in Foly.
Fol.
Mary, Cryst graunt ye catche no colde on your fete!
Magn.
Who is this?
Fol.
Consayte, syr, your owne man.
Magn.
What tydynges with you, syr? I befole thy brayne pan.
Fol.
By our lakyn, syr, I haue ben a hawkyng for the wylde swan.
My hawke is rammysshe, and it happed that she ran,
Flewe I sholde say, in to an olde barne,
To reche at a rat, I coude not her warne;
She pynched her pynyon, by God, and catched harme:
It was a ronner; nay, fole, I warant her blode warme.
Magn.
A, syr, thy iarfawcon and thou be hanged togyder!
Fol.
And, syr, as I was comynge to you hyder,
I sawe a fox sucke on a kowes ydder,
And with a lyme rodde I toke them bothe togyder.
I trowe it be a frost, for the way is slydder:
Se, for God auowe, for colde as I chydder.
Magn.
Thy wordes hange togyder as fethers in the wynde.
87
A, syr, tolde I not you howe I dyd fynde
A knaue and a carle, and all of one kynde?
I sawe a wethercocke wagge with the wynde;
Grete meruayle I had, and mused in my mynde;
The houndes ranne before, and the hare behynde;
I sawe a losell lede a lurden, and they were bothe blynde;
I sawe a sowter go to supper or euer he had dynde.
Magn.
By Cockes harte, thou arte a fyne mery knaue.
Fol.
I make God auowe, ye wyll none other men haue.
Magn.
What sayst thou?
Fol.
Mary, I pray God your maystershyp to saue:
I shall gyue you a gaude of a goslynge that I gaue,
The gander and the gose bothe grasynge on one graue;
Than Rowlande the reue ran, and I began to raue,
And with a brystell of a bore his berde dyd I shaue.
Magn.
If euer I herde syke another, God gyue me shame.
Fol.
Sym Sadylgose was my syer, and Dawcocke my dame:
88
Howe a wodcocke wrastled with a larke that was lame:
The bytter sayd boldly that they were to blame;
The feldfare wolde haue fydled, and it wolde not frame;
The crane and the curlewe therat gan to grame;
The snyte snyueled in the snowte and smyled at the game.
Magn.
Cockes bones, herde you euer suche another?
Fol.
Se, syr, I beseche you, Largesse my brother.
Here Fansy cometh in.
Magn.
What tydynges with you, syr, that you loke so sad?
Fan.
When ye knowe that I knowe, ye wyll not be glad.
Fol.
What, brother braynsyke, how farest thou?
Magn.
Ye, let be thy iapes, and tell me howe
The case requyreth.
Fan.
Alasse, alasse, an heuy metynge!
I wolde tell you, and yf I myght for wepynge.
Fol.
What, is all your myrthe nowe tourned to sorowe?
Fare well tyll sone, adue tyll to morowe.
Here goth Foly away.
Magn.
I pray thé, Largesse, let be thy sobbynge.
89
Alasse, syr, ye are vndone with stelyng and robbynge!
Ye sent vs a superuysour for to take hede:
Take hede of your selfe, for nowe ye haue nede.
Magn.
What, hath Sadnesse begyled me so?
Fan.
Nay, madnesse hath begyled you and many mo;
For Lyberte is gone and also Felycyte.
Magn.
Gone? alasse, ye haue vndone me!
Fan.
Nay, he that ye sent vs, Clokyd Colusyon,
And your payntyd Pleasure, Courtly Abusyon,
And your demenour with Counterfet Countenaunce,
And your suruayour, Crafty Conueyaunce,
Or euer we were ware brought vs in aduersyte,
And had robbyd you quyte from all felycyte.
Magn.
Why, is this the largesse that I haue vsyd?
Fan.
Nay, it was your fondnesse that ye haue vsyd.
Magn.
And is this the credence that I gaue to the letter?
Fan.
Why, coulde not your wyt serue you no better?
Magn.
Why, who wolde haue thought in you suche gyle?
90
What? yes, by the rode, syr, it was I all this whyle
That you trustyd, and Fansy is my name;
And Foly, my broder, that made you moche game.
Here cometh in Aduersyte.
Magn.
Alas, who is yonder, that grymly lokys?
Fan.
Adewe, for I wyll not come in his clokys.
Magn.
Lorde, so my flesshe trymblyth nowe for drede!
Here Magnyfycence is beten downe, and spoylyd from all his goodys and rayment.
Aduer.
I am Aduersyte, that for thy mysdede
From God am sent to quyte thé thy mede.
Vyle velyarde, thou must not nowe my dynt withstande,
Thou must not abyde the dynt of my hande:
Ly there, losell, for all thy pompe and pryde;
Thy pleasure now with payne and trouble shalbe tryde.
The stroke of God, Aduersyte I hyght;
I pluke downe kynge, prynce, lorde, and knyght,
I rushe at them rughly, and make them ly full lowe,
And in theyr moste truste I make them ouerthrowe.
Thys losyll was a lorde, and lyuyd at his lust,
And nowe, lyke a lurden, he lyeth in the dust:
91
Nowe is there no man that wyll set by hym a flye:
He was wonte to boste, brage, and to brace;
Nowe dare he not for shame loke one in the face:
All worldly welth for hym to lytell was;
Nowe hath he ryght nought, naked as an asse:
Somtyme without measure he trusted in golde,
And now without mesure he shal haue hunger and colde.
Lo, syrs, thus I handell them all
That folowe theyr fansyes in foly to fall:
Man or woman, of what estate they be,
I counsayle them beware of Aduersyte.
Of sorowfull seruauntes I haue many scores:
I vysyte them somtyme with blaynes and with sores;
With botches and carbuckyls in care I them knyt;
With the gowte I make them to grone where they syt;
Some I make lyppers and lazars full horse;
And from that they loue best some I deuorse;
Some with the marmoll to halte I them make;
And some to cry out of the bone ake;
And some I vysyte with brennynge of fyre;
Of some I wrynge of the necke lyke a wyre;
And some I make in a rope to totter and walter;
And some for to hange themselfe in an halter;
And some I vysyte to batayle, warre, and murther,
92
To drowne or to sle themselfe with a knyfe;
And all is for theyr vngracyous lyfe.
Yet somtyme I stryke where is none offence,
Bycause I wolde proue men of theyr pacyence.
But, nowe a dayes, to stryke I haue grete cause,
Lydderyns so lytell set by Goddes lawes.
Faders and moders, that be neclygent,
And suffre theyr chyldren to haue theyr entent,
To gyde them vertuously that wyll not remembre,
Them or theyr chyldren ofte tymes I dysmembre;
Theyr chyldren, bycause that they haue no mekenesse;
I vysyte theyr faders and moders with sekenesse;
And yf I se therby they wyll not amende,
Then myschefe sodaynly I them sende;
For there is nothynge that more dyspleaseth God
Than from theyr chyldren to spare the rod
Of correccyon, but let them haue theyr wyll;
Some I make lame, and some I do kyll;
And some I stryke with a fransey;
Of some of theyr chyldren I stryke out the eye;
And where the fader by wysdom worshyp hath wonne,
I sende oft tymes a fole to his sonne.
Wherfore of Aduersyte loke ye be ware,
For when I come, comyth sorowe and care:
For I stryke lordys of realmes and landys,
That rule not by mesure that they haue in theyr handys,
93
I am Goddys preposytour, I prynt them with a pen;
Because of theyr neglygence and of theyr wanton vagys,
I vysyte them and stryke them with many sore plagys.
To take, syrs, example of that I you tell,
And beware of aduersyte by my counsell,
Take hede of this caytyfe that lyeth here on grounde;
Beholde, howe Fortune of hym hath frounde!
For though we shewe you this in game and play,
Yet it proueth eyrnest, ye may se, euery day.
For nowe wyll I from this caytyfe go,
And take myscheffe and vengeaunce of other mo,
That hath deseruyd it as well as he.
Howe, where art thou? come hether, Pouerte;
Take this caytyfe to thy lore.
Here cometh in Pouerte.
Pouer.
A, my bonys ake, my lymmys be sore;
Alasse, I haue the cyatyca full euyll in my hyppe!
Alasse, where is youth that was wont for to skyppe?
I am lowsy, and vnlykynge, and full of scurffe,
My colour is tawny, colouryd as a turffe:
I am Pouerte, that all men doth hate,
I am baytyd with doggys at euery mannys gate:
94
Full fewe but they haue enuy at me.
Nowe must I this carcasse lyft vp:
He dynyd with delyte, with Pouerte he must sup.
Ryse vp, syr, and welcom vnto me.
Hic accedat ad levandum Magnyfycence, et locabit eum super locum stratum.
Magn.
Alasse, where is nowe my golde and fe?
Alasse, I say, where to am I brought?
Alasse, alasse, alasse, I dye for thought!
Pouer.
Syr, all this wolde haue bene thought on before:
He woteth not what welth is that neuer was sore.
Magn.
Fy, fy, that euer I sholde be brought in this snare!
I wenyd ones neuer to haue knowen of care.
Pouer.
Lo, suche is this worlde! I fynd it wryt,
In welth to beware, and that is wyt.
Magn.
In welth to beware, yf I had grace,
Neuer had I bene brought in this case.
Pouer.
Nowe, syth it wyll no nother be,
All that God sendeth, take it in gre;
For, thoughe you were somtyme a noble estate,
Nowe must you lerne to begge at euery mannes gate.
Magn.
Alasse, that euer I sholde be so shamed!
Alasse, that euer I Magnyfycence was named!
Alasse, that euer I was so harde happed,
In mysery and wretchydnesse thus to be lapped!
Alasse, that I coude not myselfe no better gyde!
Alasse, in my cradell that I had not dyde!
95
Ye, syr, ye, leue all this rage,
And pray to God your sorowes to asswage:
It is foly to grudge agaynst his vysytacyon.
With harte contryte make you supplycacyon
Vnto your Maker, that made bothe you and me,
And, whan it pleaseth God, better may be.
Magn.
Alasse, I wote not what I sholde pray!
Pouer.
Rem[e]mbre you better, syr, beware what ye say,
For drede ye dysplease the hygh deyte.
Put your wyll to his wyll, for surely it is he
That may restore you agayne to felycyte,
And brynge you agayne out of aduersyte.
Therfore pouerte loke pacyently ye take,
And remembre he suffered moche more for your sake,
Howe be it of all synne he was innocent,
And ye haue deserued this punysshment.
Magn.
Alasse, with colde my lymmes shall be marde!
Pouer.
Ye, syr, nowe must ye lerne to lye harde,
That was wonte to lye on fetherbeddes of downe;
Nowe must your fete lye hyer than your crowne:
Where you were wonte to haue cawdels for your hede,
Nowe must you monche mamockes and lumpes of brede;
96
Nowe lap you in a couerlet full fayne that you may;
And where that ye were pomped with what that ye wolde,
Nowe must ye suffre bothe hunger and colde:
With courtely sylkes ye were wonte to be drawe;
Nowe must ye lerne to lye on the strawe;
Your skynne that was wrapped in shertes of Raynes,
Nowe must ye be stormy beten with showres and raynes;
Your hede that was wonte to be happed moost drowpy and drowsy,
Now shal ye be scabbed, scuruy, and lowsy.
Magn.
Fye on this worlde, full of trechery,
That euer noblenesse sholde lyue thus wretchydly!
Pouer.
Syr, remembre the tourne of Fortunes whele,
That wantonly can wynke, and wynche with her hele.
Nowe she wyll laughe, forthwith she wyll frowne;
Sodenly set vp, and sodenly pluckyd downe:
She dawnsyth varyaunce with mutabylyte;
Nowe all in welth, forthwith in pouerte:
In her promyse there is no sykernesse;
All her delyte is set in doublenesse.
Magn.
Alas, of Fortune I may well complayne!
97
Ye, syr, yesterday wyll not be callyd agayne:
But yet, syr, nowe in this case,
Take it mekely, and thanke God of his grace;
For nowe go I wyll begge for you some mete;
It is foly agaynst God for to plete;
I wyll walke nowe with my beggers baggys,
And happe you the whyles with these homly raggys. Discedendo dicat ista verba.
A, howe my lymmys be lyther and lame!
Better it is to begge than to be hangyd with shame;
Yet many had leuer hangyd to be,
Then for to begge theyr mete for charyte:
They thynke it no shame to robbe and stele,
Yet were they better to begge a great dele;
For by robbynge they rynne to in manus tuas quecke,
But beggynge is better medecyne for the necke;
Ye, mary, is it, ye, so mote I goo:
A Lorde God, howe the gowte wryngeth me by the too!
Here Magnyfycence dolorously maketh his mone.
Magn.
O feble fortune, O doulfull destyny!
O hatefull happe, O carefull cruelte!
O syghynge sorowe, O thoughtfull mysere!
O rydlesse rewthe, O paynfull pouerte!
98
O odyous dystresse, O dedly payne and woo!
For worldly shame I wax bothe wanne and bloo.
Where is nowe my welth and my noble estate?
Where is nowe my treasure, my landes, and my rent?
Where is nowe all my seruauntys that I had here a late?
Where is nowe my golde vpon them that I spent?
Where is nowe all my ryche abylement?
Where is nowe my kynne, my frendys, and my noble blood?
Where is nowe all my pleasure and my worldly good?
Alasse, my foly! alasse, my wanton wyll!
I may no more speke, tyll I haue wept my fyll.
[Here cometh in Lyberte.]
Lyb.
With ye, mary, syrs, thus sholde it be.
I kyst her swete, and she kyssyd me;
I daunsed the darlynge on my kne;
I garde her gaspe, I garde her gle,
With, daunce on the le, the le!
I bassed that baby with harte so free;
She is the bote of all my bale:
A, so, that syghe was farre fet!
To loue that louesome I wyll not let;
My harte is holly on her set:
I plucked her by the patlet;
At my deuyse I with her met;
99
So merely syngeth the nyghtyngale!
In lust and lykynge my name is Lyberte:
I am desyred with hyghest and lowest degre;
I lyue as me lyst, I lepe out at large;
Of erthely thynge I haue no care nor charge;
I am presydent of prynces, I prycke them with pryde:
What is he lyuynge that lyberte wolde lacke?
A thousande pounde with lyberte may holde no tacke;
At lyberte a man may be bolde for to brake;
Welthe without lyberte gothe all to wrake.
But yet, syrs, hardely one thynge lerne of me:
I warne you beware of to moche lyberte,
For totum in toto is not worth an hawe;
To hardy, or to moche, to free of the dawe;
To sober, to sad, to subtell, to wyse;
To mery, to mad, to gyglynge, to nyse;
To full of fansyes, to lordly, to prowde;
To homly, to holy, to lewde, and to lowde;
To flatterynge, to smatterynge, to to out of harre,
To claterynge, to chaterynge, to shorte, and to farre;
To iettynge, to iaggynge, and to full of iapes;
To mockynge, to mowynge, to lyke a iackenapes:
Thus totum in toto groweth vp, as ye may se,
By meanes of madnesse, and to moche lyberte;
100
And I am a vyce where I am abused.
Magn.
A, woo worthe thé, Lyberte, nowe thou sayst full trewe!
That I vsed thé to moche, sore may I rewe.
Lyb.
What, a very vengeaunce, I say, who is that?
What brothell, I say, is yonder bounde in a mat?
Magn.
I am Magnyfycence, that somtyme thy mayster was.
Lyb.
What, is the worlde thus come to passe?
Cockes armes, syrs, wyll ye not se
Howe he is vndone by the meanes of me?
For yf Measure had ruled Lyberte as he began,
This lurden that here lyeth had ben a noble man.
But he abused so his free lyberte,
That nowe he hath loste all his felycyte,
Not thorowe largesse of lyberall expence,
But by the way of fansy insolence;
For lyberalyte is most conuenyent
A prynce to vse with all his hole intent,
Largely rewardynge them that haue deseruyd,
And so shall a noble man nobly be seruyd:
But nowe adayes as huksters they hucke and they stycke,
And pynche at the payment of a poddynge prycke;
A laudable largesse, I tell you, for a lorde,
To prate for the patchynge of a pot sharde!
Spare for the spence of a noble, that his honour myght saue,
101
But so longe they rekyn with theyr reasons amysse,
That they lose theyr lyberte and all that there is.
Magn.
Alasse, that euer I occupyed suche abusyon!
Lyb.
Ye, for nowe it hath brought thé to confusyon:
For, where I am occupyed and vsyd wylfully,
It can not contynew longe prosperyously;
As euydently in retchlesse youth ye may se,
Howe many come to myschefe for to moche lyberte;
And some in the worlde theyr brayne is so ydyll,
That they set theyr chyldren to rynne on the brydyll,
In youth to be wanton and let them haue theyr wyll;
And they neuer thryue in theyr age, it shall not gretly skyll:
Some fall to foly them selfe for to spyll,
And some fall prechynge at the Toure Hyll;
Some hath so moche lyberte of one thynge and other,
That nother they set by father and mother;
Some haue so moche lyberte that they fere no synne,
Tyll, as ye se many tymes, they shame all theyr kynne.
I am so lusty to loke on, so freshe, and so fre,
102
Freers with foly I make them so fayne,
They cast vp theyr obedyence to cache me agayne,
At lyberte to wander and walke ouer all,
That lustely they lepe somtyme theyr cloyster wall. Hic aliquis buccat in cornu a retro post populum.
Yonder is a horson for me doth rechate:
Adewe, syrs, for I thynke leyst that I come to late.
Magn.
O good Lorde, howe long shall I indure
This mysery, this carefull wrechydnesse?
Of worldly welthe, alasse, who can be sure?
In Fortunys frendshyppe there is no stedfastnesse:
She hath dyssayuyd me with her doublenesse.
For to be wyse all men may lerne of me,
In welthe to beware of herde aduersyte.
Here cometh in Crafty Conueyaunce, [and] Cloked Colusyon, with a lusty laughter.
Cr. Con.
Ha, ha, ha! for laughter I am lyke to brast.
Cl. Col.
Ha, ha, ha! for sporte I am lyke to spewe and cast.
Cr. Con.
What hast thou gotted in faythe to thy share?
103
In faythe, of his cofers the bottoms are bare.
Cr. Con.
As for his plate of syluer, and suche trasshe,
I waraunt you, I haue gyuen it a lasshe.
Cl. Col.
What, then he may drynke out of a stone cruyse?
Cr. Con.
With, ye, syr, by Jesu that slayne was with Jewes!
He may rynse a pycher, for his plate is to wed.
Cl. Col.
In faythe, and he may dreme on a daggeswane for ony fether bed.
Cr. Con.
By my trouthe, we haue ryfled hym metely well.
Cl. Col.
Ye, but thanke me therof euery dele.
Cr. Con.
Thanke thé therof, in the deuyls date!
Cl. Col.
Leue thy pratynge, or els I shall lay thé on the pate.
Cr. Con.
Nay, to wrangle, I warant thé, it is but a stone caste.
Cl. Col.
By the messe, I shall cleue thy heed to the waste.
Cr. Con.
Ye, wylte thou clenly cleue me in the clyfte with thy nose?
Cl. Col.
I shall thrust in thé my dagger—
Cr. Con.
Thorowe the legge in to the hose.
Cl. Col.
Nay, horson, here is my gloue; take it vp, and thou dare.
Cr. Con.
Torde, thou arte good to be a man of warre.
104
I shall skelpe thé on the skalpe; lo, seest thou that?
Cr. Con.
What, wylte thou skelpe me? thou dare not loke on a gnat.
Cl. Col.
By Cockes bones, I shall blysse thé, and thou be to bolde.
Cr. Con.
Nay, then thou wylte dynge the deuyll, and thou be not holde.
Cl. Col.
But wottest thou, horson? I rede thé to be wyse.
Cr. Con.
Nowe I rede thé beware, I haue warned thé twyse.
Cl. Col.
Why, wenest thou that I forbere thé for thyne owne sake?
Cr. Con.
Peas, or I shall wrynge thy be in a brake.
Cl. Col.
Holde thy hande, dawe, of thy dagger, and stynt of thy dyn,
Or I shal fawchyn thy flesshe, and scrape thé on the skyn.
Cr. Con.
Ye, wylte thou, ha[n]gman? I say, thou cauell!
Cl. Col.
Nay, thou rude rauener, rayne beten iauell!
Cr. Con.
What, thou Colyn cowarde, knowen and tryde!
Cl. Col.
Nay, thou false harted dastarde, thou dare not abyde!
Cr. Con.
And yf there were none to dysplease but thou and I,
105
Cl. Col.
Nay, iche shall wrynge thé, horson. on the wryst.
Cr. Con.
Mary, I defye thy best and thy worst.
[Here cometh in Counterfet Countenaunce.]
C. Count.
What, a very vengeaunce, nede all these wordys?
Go together by the heddys, and gyue me your swordys.
Cl. Col.
So he is the worste brawler that euer was borne.
Cr. Con.
In fayth, so to suffer thé, it is but a skorne.
C. Count.
Now let vs be all one, and let vs lyue in rest,
For we be, syrs, but a fewe of the best.
Cl. Col.
By the masse, man, thou shall fynde me resonable.
Cr. Con.
In faythe, and I wyll be to reason agreable.
C. Count.
Then truste I to God and the holy rode,
Here shalbe not great sheddynge of blode.
Cl. Col.
By our lakyn, syr, not by my wyll.
Cr. Con.
By the fayth that I owe to God, and I wyll syt styll.
106
Well sayd: but, in fayth, what was your quarell?
Cl. Col.
Mary, syr, this gentylman called me iauell.
Cr. Con.
Nay, by Saynt Mary, it was ye called me knaue.
Cl. Col.
Mary, so vngoodly langage you me gaue.
C. Count.
A, shall we haue more of this maters yet?
Me thynke ye are not gretly acomberyd with wyt.
Cr. Con.
Goddys fote, I warant you, I am a gentylman borne,
And thus to be facyd I thynke it great skorne.
C. Count.
I can not well tell of your dysposycyons;
And ye be a gentylman, ye haue knauys condycyons.
Cl. Col.
By God, I tell you, I wyll not be out facyd.
Cr. Con.
By the masse, I warant thé, I wyll not be bracyd.
C. Count.
Tushe, tushe, it is a great defaute:
The one of you is to proude, the other is to haute.
Tell me brefly where vpon ye began.
Cl. Col.
Mary, syr, he sayd that he was the pratyer man
Then I was, in opynynge of lockys;
And, I tell you, I dysdayne moche of his mockys.
Cr. Con.
Thou sawe neuer yet but I dyd my parte,
107
C. Count.
Nay, I know well inough ye are bothe well handyd
To grope a gardeuyaunce, though it be well bandyd.
Cl. Col.
I am the better yet in a bowget.
Cr. Con.
And I the better in a male.
C. Count.
Tushe, these maters that ye moue are but soppys in ale:
Your trymynge and tramynge by me must be tangyd,
For, had I not bene, ye bothe had bene hangyd,
When we with Magnyfycence goodys made cheuysaunce.
Magn.
And therfore our Lorde sende you a very wengaunce!
C. Count.
What begger art thou that thus doth banne and wary?
Magn.
Ye be the theuys, I say, away my goodys dyd cary.
Cl. Col.
Cockys bonys, thou begger, what is thy name?
Magn.
Magnyfycence I was, whom ye haue brought to shame.
C. Count.
Ye, but trowe you, syrs, that this is he?
Cr. Con.
Go we nere, and let vs se.
Cl. Col.
By Cockys bonys, it is the same.
Magn.
Alasse, alasse, syrs, ye are to blame!
I was your mayster, though ye thynke it skorne,
108
C. Count.
Ly styll, ly styll nowe, with yll hayle!
Cr. Con.
Ye, for thy langage can not thé auayle.
Cl. Col.
Abyde, syr, abyde, I shall make hym to pysse.
Magn.
Nowe gyue me somwhat, for God sake I craue!
Cr. Con.
In faythe, I gyue thé four quarters of a knaue.
C. Count.
In faythe, and I bequethe hym the tothe ake.
Cl. Col.
And I bequethe hym the bone ake.
Cr. Con.
And I bequethe hym the gowte and the gyn.
Cl. Col.
And I bequethe hym sorowe for his syn.
C. Count.
And I gyue hym Crystys curse,
With neuer a peny in his purse.
Cr. Con.
And I gyue hym the cowghe, the murre, and the pose.
Cl. Col.
Ye, for requiem æternam groweth forth of his nose:
But nowe let vs make mery and good chere.
C. Count.
And to the tauerne let vs drawe nere.
Cr. Con.
And from thens to the halfe strete,
To get vs there some freshe mete.
109
Why, is there any store of rawe motton?
C. Count.
Ye, in faythe, or ellys thou arte to great a glotton.
Cr. Con.
But they say it is a queysy mete;
It wyll stryke a man myscheuously in a hete.
Cl. Col.
In fay, man, some rybbys of the motton be so ranke,
That they wyll fyre one vngracyously in the flanke.
C. Count.
Ye, and when ye come out of the shoppe,
Ye shall be clappyd with a coloppe,
That wyll make you to halt and to hoppe.
Cr. Con.
Som be wrestyd there that they thynke on it froty dayes,
For there be horys there at all assayes.
Cl. Col.
For the passyon of God let vs go thyther!
Et cum festinatione discedant a loco.
Magn.
Alas, myne owne seruauntys to shew me such reproche,
Thus to rebuke me, and haue me in dyspyght!
So shamfully to me theyr mayster to aproche,
That somtyme was a noble prynce of myght!
Alasse, to lyue longer I haue no delyght!
For to lyue in mysery it is herder than dethe:
110
Hic intrat Dyspare.
Dys.
Dyspare is my name, that aduersyte doth folowe:
In tyme of dystresse I am redy at hande;
I make heuy hertys with eyen full holowe;
Of faruent charyte I quenche out the bronde;
Faythe and goodhope I make asyde to stonde;
In Goddys mercy I tell them is but foly to truste;
All grace and pyte I lay in the duste.
What lyest thou there lyngrynge, lewdly and lothsome?
It is to late nowe thy synnys to repent;
Thou hast bene so waywarde, so wranglyng, and so wrothsome,
And so fer thou arte behynde of thy rent,
And so vngracyously thy dayes thou hast spent,
That thou arte not worthy to loke God in the face.
Magn.
Nay, nay, man, I loke neuer to haue parte of his grace;
For I haue so vngracyously my lyfe mysusyd,
Though I aske mercy, I must nedys be refusyd.
Dys.
No, no, for thy synnys be so excedynge farre,
So innumerable and so full of dyspyte,
And agayne thy Maker thou hast made suche warre,
That thou canst not haue neuer mercy in hys syght.
111
Alasse, my wyckydnesse, that may I wyte!
But nowe I se well there is no better rede,
But sygh and sorowe, and wysshe my selfe dede.
Dys.
Ye, ryd thy selfe, rather than this lyfe for to lede;
The worlde waxyth wery of thé, thou lyuest to longe.
Hic intrat Myschefe.
Mys.
And I, Myschefe, am comyn at nede,
Out of thy lyfe thé for to lede:
And loke that it be not longe
Or that thy selfe thou go honge
With this halter good and stronge;
Or ellys with this knyfe cut out a tonge
Of thy throte bole, and ryd thé out of payne:
Thou arte not the fyrst hymselfe hath slayne.
Lo, here is thy knyfe and a halter! and, or we go ferther,
Spare not thy selfe, but boldly thé murder.
Dys.
Ye, haue done at ones without delay.
Magn.
Shall I myself hange with an halter? nay;
Nay, rather wyll I chose to ryd me of this lyue
In styckynge my selfe with this fayre knyfe.
Here Magnyfycence wolde slee hymselfe with a knyfe.
112
Alarum, alarum! to longe we abyde!
Dys.
Out, harowe, hyll burneth! where shall I me hyde?
Hic intrat Goodhope, fugientibus Dyspayre et Myschefe: repente Goodhope surripiat illi gladium, et dicat.
Good.
Alas, dere sone, sore combred is thy mynde,
Thyselfe that thou wolde sloo agaynst nature and kynde!
Magn.
A, blessyd may ye be, syr! what shall I you call?
Good.
Goodhope, syr, my name is; remedy pryncypall
Agaynst all sautes of your goostly foo:
Who knoweth me, hymselfe may neuer sloo.
Magn.
Alas, syr, so I am lapped in aduersyte,
That dyspayre well nyghe had myscheued me!
For, had ye not the soner ben my refuge,
Of dampnacyon I had ben drawen in the luge.
Good.
Vndoubted ye had lost yourselfe eternally:
There is no man may synne more mortally
Than of wanhope thrughe the vnhappy wayes,
By myschefe to breuyate and shorten his dayes:
But, my good sonne, lerne from dyspayre to flee,
113
A grete mysaduenture, thy Maker to dysplease,
Thyselfe myscheuynge to thyne endlesse dysease!
There was neuer so harde a storme of mysery,
But thrughe goodhope there may come remedy.
Magn.
Your wordes be more sweter than ony precyous narde,
They molefy so easely my harte that was so harde;
There is no bawme, ne gumme of Arabe,
More delectable than your langage to me.
Good.
Syr, your fesycyan is the grace of God,
That you hath punysshed with his sharpe rod.
Goodhope, your potecary assygned am I:
That Goddes grace hath vexed you sharply,
And payned you with a purgacyon of odyous pouerte,
Myxed with bytter alowes of herde aduersyte;
Nowe must I make you a lectuary softe,
I to mynyster it, you to receyue it ofte,
With rubarbe of repentaunce in you for to rest;
With drammes of deuocyon your dyet must be drest;
With gommes goostly of glad herte and mynde,
To thanke God of his sonde, and comforte ye shal fynde.
Put fro you presumpcyon and admyt humylyte,
And hartely thanke God of your aduersyte;
And loue that Lorde that for your loue was dede,
114
For who loueth God can ayle nothynge but good;
He may helpe you, he may mende your mode:
Prosperyte to hym is gyuen solacyusly to man,
Aduersyte to hym therwith nowe and than;
Helthe of body his besynesse to acheue,
Dysease and sekenesse his conscyence to dyscryue,
Afflyccyon and trouble to proue his pacyence,
Contradyccyon to proue his sapyence,
Grace of assystence his measure to declare,
Somtyme to fall, another tyme to beware:
And nowe ye haue had, syr, a wonderous fall,
To lerne you hereafter for to beware withall.
Howe say you, syr? can ye these wordys grope?
Magn.
Ye, syr, nowe am I armyd with goodhope,
And sore I repent me of my wylfulnesse:
I aske God mercy of my neglygence,
Vnder goodhope endurynge euer styll,
Me humbly commyttynge vnto Goddys wyll.
Good.
Then shall you be sone delyuered from dystresse,
For nowe I se comynge to youwarde Redresse.
115
Red.
Cryst be amonge you and the Holy Goste!
Good.
He be your conducte, the Lorde of myghtys moste!
Red.
Syr, is your pacyent any thynge amendyd?
Good.
Ye, syr, he is sory for that he hath offendyd.
Red.
How fele you your selfe, my frend? how is your mynde?
Magn.
A wrechyd man, syr, to my Maker vnkynde.
Red.
Ye, but haue ye repentyd you with harte contryte?
Magn.
Syr, the repentaunce I haue, no man can wryte.
Red.
And haue ye banyshed from you all dyspare?
Magn.
Ye, holly to goodhope I haue made my repare.
Good.
Questyonlesse he doth me assure
In goodhope alway for to indure.
Red.
Than stande vp, syr, in Goddys name!
And I truste to ratyfye and amende your fame.
Goodhope, I pray you with harty affeccyon
To sende ouer to me Sad Cyrcumspeccyon.
Good.
Syr, your requeste shall not be delayed.
Et exeat.
116
Now surely, Magnyfycence, I am ryght well apayed
Of that I se you nowe in the state of grace;
Nowe shall ye be renewyd with solace:
Take nowe vpon you this abylyment,
And to that I say gyue good aduysement.
Magnyfycence accipiat indumentum.
Magn.
To your requeste I shall be confyrmable.
Red.
Fyrst, I saye, with mynde fyrme and stable
Determyne to amende all your wanton excesse,
And be ruled by me, whiche am called Redresse:
Redresse my name is, that lytell am I vsed
As the worlde requyreth, but rather I am refused:
Redresse sholde be at the rekenynge in euery accompte,
And specyally to redresse that were out of ioynte:
Full many thynges there be that lacketh redresse,
The whiche were to longe nowe to expresse;
But redresse is redlesse, and may do no correccyon.
Nowe welcome forsoth, Sad Cyrcumspeccyon.
Here cometh in Sad Cyrcumspeccyon, sayenge,
Sad Cyr.
Syr, after your message I hyed me hyder streyght,
117
Red.
Syr, to accompte you the contynewe of my consayte,
Is from aduersyte Magnyfycence to vnbynde.
Sad Cyr.
How fortuned you, Magnyfycence, so far to fal behynde?
Magn.
Syr, the longe absence of you, Sad Cyrcumspeccyon,
Caused me of aduersyte to fall in subieccyon.
Red.
All that he sayth, of trouthe doth procede;
For where sad cyrcumspeccyon is longe out of the way,
Of aduersyte it is to stande in drede.
Sad Cyr.
Without fayle, syr, that is no nay;
Cyrcumspeccyon inhateth all rennynge astray.
But, syr, by me to rule fyrst ye began.
Magn.
My wylfulnesse, syr, excuse I ne can.
Sad Cyr.
Then ye repent you of foly in tymes past?
Magn.
Sothely, to repent me I haue grete cause:
Howe be it from you I receyued a letter,
Whiche conteyned in it a specyall clause
That I sholde vse largesse.
Sad Cyr.
Nay, syr, there a pause.
118
Yet let vs se this matter thorowly ingrossed.
Magn.
Syr, this letter ye sent to me, at Pountes was enclosed.
Sad Cyr.
Who brought you that letter, wote ye what he hyght?
Magn.
Largesse, syr, by his credence was his name.
Sad Cyr.
This letter ye speke of, neuer dyd I wryte.
Red.
To gyue so hasty credence ye were moche to blame.
Magn.
Truth it is, syr; for after he wrought me moch shame,
And caused me also to vse to moche lyberte,
And made also mesure to be put fro me.
Red.
Then welthe with you myght in no wyse abyde.
Sad Cyr.
A ha! fansy and foly met with you, I trowe.
Red.
It wolde be founde so, yf it were well tryde.
Magn.
Surely my welthe with them was ouerthrow.
Sad Cyr.
Remembre you, therfore, howe late ye were low.
Red.
Ye, and beware of vnhappy abusyon.
Sad Cyr.
And kepe you from counterfaytynge of clokyd colusyon.
Magn.
Syr, in goodhope I am to amende.
119
Vse not then your countenaunce for to counterfet.
Sad Cyr.
And from crafters and hafters I you forfende.
Hic intrat Perseueraunce.
Magn.
Well, syr, after your counsell my mynde I wyll set.
Red.
What, brother Perceueraunce! surely well met.
Sad Cyr.
Ye com hether as well as can be thought.
Per.
I herde say that Aduersyte with Magnyfycence had fought.
Magn.
Ye, syr, with aduersyte I haue bene vexyd;
But goodhope and redresse hath mendyd myne estate,
And sad cyrcumspeccyon to me they haue annexyd.
Red.
What this man hath sayd, perceyue ye his sentence?
Magn.
Ye, syr, from hym my corage shall neuer flyt.
Sad Cyr.
Accordynge to treuth they be well deuysyd.
Magn.
Syrs, I am agreed to abyde your ordenaunce,
120
Per.
Yf you be so myndyd, we be ryght glad.
Red.
And ye shall haue more worshyp then euer ye had.
Magn.
Well, I perceyue in you there is moche sadnesse,
Grauyte of counsell, prouydence, and wyt;
Your comfortable aduyse and wyt excedyth all gladnesse.
But frendly I wyll refrayne you ferther, or we flyt,
Whereto were most metely my corage to knyt:
Your myndys I beseche you here in to expresse,
Commensynge this processe at mayster Redresse.
Red.
Syth vnto me formest this processe is erectyd,
Herein I wyll aforse me to shewe you my mynde.
Fyrst, from your magnyfycence syn must be abiectyd,
In all your warkys more grace shall ye fynde;
Be gentyll then of corage, and lerne to be kynde,
For of noblenesse the chefe poynt is to be lyberall,
So that your largesse be not to prodygall.
Sad Cyr.
Lyberte to a lorde belongyth of ryght,
But wylfull waywardnesse muste walke out of the way;
Measure of your lustys must haue the ouersyght,
And not all the nygarde nor the chyncherde to play;
121
In your rewardys vse suche moderacyon
That nothynge be gyuen without consyderacyon.
Per.
To the increse of your honour then arme you with ryght,
And fumously adresse you with magnanymyte;
And euer let the drede of God be in your syght;
And knowe your selfe mortall, for all your dygnyte;
Set not all your affyaunce in Fortune full of gyle;
Remember this lyfe lastyth but a whyle.
Magn.
Redresse, in my remembraunce your lesson shall rest,
And Sad Cyrcumspeccyon I marke in my mynde;
But, Perseueraunce, me semyth your probleme was best;
I shall it neuer forget nor leue it behynde,
But hooly to perseueraunce my selfe I wyll bynde,
Of that I haue mysdone to make a redresse,
And with sad cyrcumspeccyon correcte my vantonnesse.
Red.
Vnto this processe brefly compylyd,
Comprehendyng the worlde casuall and transytory,
Who lyst to consyder shall neuer be begylyd,
Yf it be regystryd well in memory;
A playne example of worldly vaynglory,
Howe in this worlde there is no seke[r]nesse,
But fallyble flatery enmyxyd with bytternesse;
Nowe well, nowe wo, nowe hy, nowe lawe degre,
Nowe ryche, nowe pore, nowe hole, nowe in dysease,
122
Nowe leue, nowe lothe, now please, nowe dysplease,
Now ebbe, now flowe, nowe increase, now dyscrease;
So in this worlde there is no sykernesse,
But fallyble flatery enmyxyd with bytternesse.
Sad Cyr.
A myrrour incleryd is this interlude,
This lyfe inconstant for to beholde and se;
Sodenly auaunsyd, and sodenly subdude,
Sodenly ryches, and sodenly pouerte,
Sodenly comfort, and sodenly aduersyte;
Sodenly thus Fortune can bothe smyle and frowne,
Sodenly set vp, and sodenly cast downe;
Sodenly promotyd, and sodenly put backe,
Sodenly cherysshyd, and sodenly cast asyde,
Sodenly commendyd, and sodenly fynde a lacke,
Sodenly grauntyd, and sodenly denyed,
Sodenly hyd, and sodenly spyed;
Sodenly thus Fortune can bothe smyle and frowne,
Sodenly set vp, and sodenly cast downe.
Per.
This treatyse, deuysyd to make you dysporte,
Shewyth nowe adayes howe the worlde comberyd is,
To the pythe of the mater who lyst to resorte;
To day it is well, to morowe it is all amysse,
To day in delyte, to morowe bare of blysse,
To day a lorde, to morowe ly in the duste;
Thus in this worlde there is no erthly truste;
123
To day hote, to morowe outragyous colde,
To day a yoman, to morowe made of page,
To day in surety, to morowe bought and solde,
To day maysterfest, to morowe he hath no holde,
To day a man, to morowe he lyeth in the duste;
Thus in this worlde there is no erthly truste.
Magn.
This mater we haue mouyd, you myrthys to make,
Precely purposyd vnder pretence of play,
Shewyth wysdome to them that wysdome can take,
Howe sodenly worldly welth dothe dekay,
How wysdom thorowe wantonnesse vanysshyth away,
How none estate lyuynge of hymselfe can be sure,
For the welthe of this worlde can not indure;
Of the terestre rechery we fall in the flode,
Beten with stormys of many a frowarde blast,
Ensordyd with the wawys sauage and wode,
Without our shyppe be sure, it is lykely to brast,
Yet of magnyfycence oft made is the mast;
Thus none estate lyuynge of hym can be sure,
For the welthe of this worlde can not indure.
Red.
Nowe semeth vs syttynge that ye then resorte
Home to your paleys with ioy and ryalte.
Sad Cyr.
Where euery thyng is ordenyd after your noble porte.
Per.
There to indeuer with all felycyte.
124
I am content, my frendys, that it so be.
Red.
And ye that haue harde this dysporte and game,
Jhesus preserue you frome endlesse wo and shame!
Amen.
125
COLYN CLOUTE.
HERE AFTER FOLOWETH A LITEL BOKE CALLED COLYN CLOUTE, COMPYLED BY MAYSTER SKELTON, POETE LAUREATE.
Quis consurget mecum adversus malignantes? aut quis stabit mecum adversus operantes iniquitatem? Nemo, Domine!
What can it auayle
To dryue forth a snayle,
Or to make a sayle
Of an herynges tayle;
To ryme or to rayle,
To wryte or to indyte,
Eyther for delyte
Or elles for despyte;
Or bokes to compyle
Of dyuers maner style,
Vyce to reuyle
And synne to exyle;
To teche or to preche,
As reason wyll reche?
Say this, and say that,
His hed is so fat,
He wotteth neuer what
Nor wherof he speketh;
He cryeth and he creketh,
He pryeth and he peketh,
He chydes and he chatters,
He prates and he patters,
He clytters and he clatters,
He medles and he smatters,
He gloses and he flatters;
Or yf he speake playne,
Than he lacketh brayne,
He is but a fole;
Let hym go to scole,
On a thre foted stole
That he may downe syt,
For he lacketh wyt;
And yf that he hyt
The nayle on the hede,
It standeth in no stede;
The deuyll, they say, is dede,
The deuell is dede.
To dryue forth a snayle,
Or to make a sayle
Of an herynges tayle;
To ryme or to rayle,
To wryte or to indyte,
Eyther for delyte
Or elles for despyte;
Or bokes to compyle
Of dyuers maner style,
Vyce to reuyle
And synne to exyle;
To teche or to preche,
As reason wyll reche?
126
His hed is so fat,
He wotteth neuer what
Nor wherof he speketh;
He cryeth and he creketh,
He pryeth and he peketh,
He chydes and he chatters,
He prates and he patters,
He clytters and he clatters,
He medles and he smatters,
He gloses and he flatters;
Or yf he speake playne,
Than he lacketh brayne,
He is but a fole;
Let hym go to scole,
On a thre foted stole
That he may downe syt,
For he lacketh wyt;
And yf that he hyt
The nayle on the hede,
It standeth in no stede;
The deuyll, they say, is dede,
The deuell is dede.
It may well so be,
Or els they wolde se
Otherwyse, and fle
From worldly vanyte,
And foule couetousnesse,
And other wretchednesse,
Fyckell falsenesse,
Varyablenesse,
With vnstablenesse.
Or els they wolde se
Otherwyse, and fle
From worldly vanyte,
And foule couetousnesse,
And other wretchednesse,
Fyckell falsenesse,
127
With vnstablenesse.
And if ye stande in doubte
Who brought this ryme aboute,
My name is Colyn Cloute.
I purpose to shake oute
All my connyng bagge,
Lyke a clerkely hagge;
For though my ryme be ragged,
Tattered and iagged,
Rudely rayne beaten,
Rusty and moughte eaten,
If ye take well therwith,
It hath in it some pyth.
For, as farre as I can se,
It is wronge with eche degre:
For the temporalte
Accuseth the spiritualte;
The spirituall agayne
Dothe grudge and complayne
Vpon the temporall men:
Thus eche of other blother
The tone agayng the tother:
Alas, they make me shoder!
For in hoder moder
The Churche is put in faute;
The prelates ben so haut,
They say, and loke so hy,
As though they wolde fly
Aboue the sterry skye.
Who brought this ryme aboute,
My name is Colyn Cloute.
I purpose to shake oute
All my connyng bagge,
Lyke a clerkely hagge;
For though my ryme be ragged,
Tattered and iagged,
Rudely rayne beaten,
Rusty and moughte eaten,
If ye take well therwith,
It hath in it some pyth.
For, as farre as I can se,
It is wronge with eche degre:
For the temporalte
Accuseth the spiritualte;
The spirituall agayne
Dothe grudge and complayne
Vpon the temporall men:
Thus eche of other blother
The tone agayng the tother:
Alas, they make me shoder!
For in hoder moder
The Churche is put in faute;
The prelates ben so haut,
They say, and loke so hy,
As though they wolde fly
Aboue the sterry skye.
128
Laye men say indede
How they take no hede
Theyr sely shepe to fede,
But plucke away and pull
The fleces of theyr wull,
Vnethes they leue a locke
Of wull amonges theyr flocke;
And as for theyr connynge,
A glommynge and a mummynge,
And make therof a iape;
They gaspe and they gape
All to haue promocyon,
There is theyr hole deuocyon,
With money, if it wyll hap,
To catche the forked cap:
Forsothe they are to lewd
To say so, all beshrewd!
How they take no hede
Theyr sely shepe to fede,
But plucke away and pull
The fleces of theyr wull,
Vnethes they leue a locke
Of wull amonges theyr flocke;
And as for theyr connynge,
A glommynge and a mummynge,
And make therof a iape;
They gaspe and they gape
All to haue promocyon,
There is theyr hole deuocyon,
With money, if it wyll hap,
To catche the forked cap:
Forsothe they are to lewd
To say so, all beshrewd!
What trow ye they say more
Of the bysshoppes lore?
How in matters they be rawe,
They lumber forth the lawe,
To herken Jacke and Gyll,
Whan they put vp a byll,
And iudge it as they wyll,
For other mennes skyll,
Expoundyng out theyr clauses,
And leue theyr owne causes:
In theyr prouynciall cure
They make but lytell sure,
And meddels very lyght
In the Churches ryght;
But ire and venire,
And solfa so alamyre,
That the premenyre
Is lyke to be set a fyre
In theyr iurisdictions
Through temporall afflictions:
Men say they haue prescriptions
Agaynst spirituall contradictions,
Accomptynge them as fyctions.
Of the bysshoppes lore?
How in matters they be rawe,
They lumber forth the lawe,
To herken Jacke and Gyll,
Whan they put vp a byll,
And iudge it as they wyll,
For other mennes skyll,
Expoundyng out theyr clauses,
And leue theyr owne causes:
In theyr prouynciall cure
They make but lytell sure,
And meddels very lyght
In the Churches ryght;
129
And solfa so alamyre,
That the premenyre
Is lyke to be set a fyre
In theyr iurisdictions
Through temporall afflictions:
Men say they haue prescriptions
Agaynst spirituall contradictions,
Accomptynge them as fyctions.
And whyles the heedes do this,
The remenaunt is amys
Of the clergy all,
Bothe great and small.
I wot neuer how they warke,
But thus the people barke;
And surely thus they say,
Bysshoppes, if they may,
Small houses wolde kepe,
But slumbre forth and slepe,
And assay to crepe
Within the noble walles
Of the kynges halles,
To fat theyr bodyes full,
Theyr soules lene and dull,
And haue full lytell care
How euyll theyr shepe fare.
The remenaunt is amys
Of the clergy all,
Bothe great and small.
I wot neuer how they warke,
But thus the people barke;
And surely thus they say,
Bysshoppes, if they may,
Small houses wolde kepe,
But slumbre forth and slepe,
And assay to crepe
Within the noble walles
Of the kynges halles,
To fat theyr bodyes full,
Theyr soules lene and dull,
And haue full lytell care
How euyll theyr shepe fare.
The temporalyte say playne,
Howe bysshoppes dysdayne
Sermons for to make,
Or suche laboure to take;
And for to say trouth,
A great parte is for slouth,
But the greattest parte
Is for they haue but small arte
And ryght sklender connyng
Within theyr heedes wonnyng.
But this reason they take
How they are able to make
With theyr golde and treasure
Clerkes out of measure,
And yet that is a pleasure.
Howe be it some there be,
Almost two or thre,
Of that dygnyte,
Full worshypfull clerkes,
As appereth by theyr werkes,
Lyke Aaron and Ure,
The wolfe from the dore
To werryn and to kepe
From theyr goostly shepe,
And theyr spirituall lammes
Sequestred from rammes
And from the berded gotes
With theyr heery cotes;
Set nought by golde ne grotes,
Theyr names if I durst tell.
Howe bysshoppes dysdayne
Sermons for to make,
130
And for to say trouth,
A great parte is for slouth,
But the greattest parte
Is for they haue but small arte
And ryght sklender connyng
Within theyr heedes wonnyng.
But this reason they take
How they are able to make
With theyr golde and treasure
Clerkes out of measure,
And yet that is a pleasure.
Howe be it some there be,
Almost two or thre,
Of that dygnyte,
Full worshypfull clerkes,
As appereth by theyr werkes,
Lyke Aaron and Ure,
The wolfe from the dore
To werryn and to kepe
From theyr goostly shepe,
And theyr spirituall lammes
Sequestred from rammes
And from the berded gotes
With theyr heery cotes;
Set nought by golde ne grotes,
Theyr names if I durst tell.
But they are loth to mell,
And loth to hang the bell
Aboute the cattes necke,
For drede to haue a checke;
They ar fayne to play deuz decke,
They ar made for the becke.
How be it they are good men,
Moche herted lyke an hen:
Theyr lessons forgotten they haue
That Becket them gaue:
Thomas manum mittit ad fortia,
Spernit damna, spernit opprobria,
Nulla Thomam frangit injuria.
But nowe euery spirituall father,
Men say, they had rather
Spende moche of theyr share
Than to be combred with care:
Spende! nay, nay, but spare;
For let se who that dare
Sho the mockysshe mare;
They make her wynche and keke,
But it is not worth a leke:
Boldnesse is to seke
The Churche for to defend.
Take me as I intende,
For lothe I am to offende
In this that I haue pende:
I tell you as men say;
Amende whan ye may,
For, usque ad montem Sare,
Men say ye can not appare;
For some say ye hunte in parkes,
And hauke on hobby larkes,
And other wanton warkes,
Whan the nyght darkes.
And loth to hang the bell
Aboute the cattes necke,
For drede to haue a checke;
131
They ar made for the becke.
How be it they are good men,
Moche herted lyke an hen:
Theyr lessons forgotten they haue
That Becket them gaue:
Thomas manum mittit ad fortia,
Spernit damna, spernit opprobria,
Nulla Thomam frangit injuria.
But nowe euery spirituall father,
Men say, they had rather
Spende moche of theyr share
Than to be combred with care:
Spende! nay, nay, but spare;
For let se who that dare
Sho the mockysshe mare;
They make her wynche and keke,
But it is not worth a leke:
Boldnesse is to seke
The Churche for to defend.
Take me as I intende,
For lothe I am to offende
In this that I haue pende:
I tell you as men say;
Amende whan ye may,
For, usque ad montem Sare,
Men say ye can not appare;
For some say ye hunte in parkes,
And hauke on hobby larkes,
And other wanton warkes,
132
What hath lay men to do
The gray gose for to sho?
Lyke houndes of hell,
They crye and they yell,
Howe that ye sell
The grace of the Holy Gost:
Thus they make theyr bost
Through owte euery cost,
Howe some of you do eate
In Lenton season fleshe mete,
Fesauntes, partryche, and cranes;
Men call you therfor prophanes;
Ye pycke no shrympes nor pranes,
Saltfysshe, stocfysshe, nor heryng,
It is not for your werynge;
Nor in holy Lenton season
Ye wyll netheyr benes ne peason,
But ye loke to be let lose
To a pygge or to a gose,
Your gorge not endewed
Without a capon stewed,
Or a stewed cocke,
To knowe whate ys a clocke
Vnder her surfled smocke,
And her wanton wodicocke.
The gray gose for to sho?
Lyke houndes of hell,
They crye and they yell,
Howe that ye sell
The grace of the Holy Gost:
Thus they make theyr bost
Through owte euery cost,
Howe some of you do eate
In Lenton season fleshe mete,
Fesauntes, partryche, and cranes;
Men call you therfor prophanes;
Ye pycke no shrympes nor pranes,
Saltfysshe, stocfysshe, nor heryng,
It is not for your werynge;
Nor in holy Lenton season
Ye wyll netheyr benes ne peason,
But ye loke to be let lose
To a pygge or to a gose,
Your gorge not endewed
Without a capon stewed,
Or a stewed cocke,
To knowe whate ys a clocke
Vnder her surfled smocke,
And her wanton wodicocke.
And howe whan ye gyue orders
In your prouinciall borders,
As at Sitientes,
Some are insufficientes,
Some parum sapientes,
Some nihil intelligentes,
Some valde negligentes,
Some nullum sensum habentes,
But bestiall and vntaught;
But whan thei haue ones caught
Dominus vobiscum by the hede,
Than renne they in euery stede,
God wot, with dronken nolles;
Yet take they cure of soules,
And woteth neuer what thei rede,
Paternoster, Ave, nor Crede;
Construe not worth a whystle
Nether Gospell nor Pystle;
Theyr mattyns madly sayde,
Nothynge deuoutly prayde;
Theyr lernynge is so small,
Theyr prymes and houres fall
And lepe out of theyr lyppes
Lyke sawdust or drye chyppes.
I speke not nowe of all,
But the moost parte in generall.
Of suche vagabundus
Speketh totus mundus;
Howe some synge Lætabundus
At euery ale stake,
With, welcome hake and make!
By the brede that God brake,
I am sory for your sake.
I speke not of the good wyfe,
But of theyr apostles lyfe;
Cum ipsis vel illis
Qui manent in villis
Est uxor vel ancilla,
Welcome Jacke and Gylla!
My prety Petronylla,
And you wyll be stylla,
You shall haue your wylla.
Of suche Paternoster pekes
All the worlde spekes.
In your prouinciall borders,
As at Sitientes,
Some are insufficientes,
Some parum sapientes,
133
Some valde negligentes,
Some nullum sensum habentes,
But bestiall and vntaught;
But whan thei haue ones caught
Dominus vobiscum by the hede,
Than renne they in euery stede,
God wot, with dronken nolles;
Yet take they cure of soules,
And woteth neuer what thei rede,
Paternoster, Ave, nor Crede;
Construe not worth a whystle
Nether Gospell nor Pystle;
Theyr mattyns madly sayde,
Nothynge deuoutly prayde;
Theyr lernynge is so small,
Theyr prymes and houres fall
And lepe out of theyr lyppes
Lyke sawdust or drye chyppes.
I speke not nowe of all,
But the moost parte in generall.
Of suche vagabundus
Speketh totus mundus;
Howe some synge Lætabundus
At euery ale stake,
With, welcome hake and make!
By the brede that God brake,
I am sory for your sake.
I speke not of the good wyfe,
But of theyr apostles lyfe;
134
Qui manent in villis
Est uxor vel ancilla,
Welcome Jacke and Gylla!
My prety Petronylla,
And you wyll be stylla,
You shall haue your wylla.
Of suche Paternoster pekes
All the worlde spekes.
In you the faute is supposed,
For that they are not apposed
By iust examinacyon
In connyng and conuersacyon;
They haue none instructyon
To make a true constructyon:
A preest without a letter,
Without his vertue be gretter,
Doutlesse were moche better
Vpon hym for to take
A mattocke or a rake.
Alas, for very shame!
Some can not declyne their name;
Some can not scarsly rede,
And yet he wyll not drede
For to kepe a cure,
And in nothyng is sure;
This Dominus vobiscum,
As wyse as Tom a thrum,
A chaplayne of trust
Layth all in the dust.
For that they are not apposed
By iust examinacyon
In connyng and conuersacyon;
They haue none instructyon
To make a true constructyon:
A preest without a letter,
Without his vertue be gretter,
Doutlesse were moche better
Vpon hym for to take
A mattocke or a rake.
Alas, for very shame!
Some can not declyne their name;
Some can not scarsly rede,
And yet he wyll not drede
For to kepe a cure,
And in nothyng is sure;
This Dominus vobiscum,
As wyse as Tom a thrum,
A chaplayne of trust
Layth all in the dust.
135
Thus I, Colyn Cloute,
As I go aboute,
And wandrynge as I walke,
I here the people talke.
Men say, for syluer and golde
Myters are bought and solde;
There shall no clergy appose
A myter nor a crose,
But a full purse:
A strawe for Goddes curse!
What are they the worse?
For a symonyake
Is but a hermoniake;
And no more ye make
Of symony, men say,
But a chyldes play.
As I go aboute,
And wandrynge as I walke,
I here the people talke.
Men say, for syluer and golde
Myters are bought and solde;
There shall no clergy appose
A myter nor a crose,
But a full purse:
A strawe for Goddes curse!
What are they the worse?
For a symonyake
Is but a hermoniake;
And no more ye make
Of symony, men say,
But a chyldes play.
Ouer this, the foresayd laye
Reporte howe the Pope may
An holy anker call
Out of the stony wall,
And hym a bysshopp make,
If he on hym dare take
To kepe so harde a rule,
To ryde vpon a mule
With golde all betrapped,
In purple and paule belapped;
Some hatted and some capped,
Rychely and warme bewrapped,
God wot to theyr great paynes,
In rotchettes of fyne Raynes,
Whyte as morowes mylke;
Theyr tabertes of fyne silke,
Theyr styrops of myxt gold begared;
There may no cost be spared;
Theyr moyles golde dothe eate,
Theyr neyghbours dye for meate.
Reporte howe the Pope may
An holy anker call
Out of the stony wall,
And hym a bysshopp make,
If he on hym dare take
To kepe so harde a rule,
To ryde vpon a mule
With golde all betrapped,
In purple and paule belapped;
Some hatted and some capped,
Rychely and warme bewrapped,
God wot to theyr great paynes,
In rotchettes of fyne Raynes,
136
Theyr tabertes of fyne silke,
Theyr styrops of myxt gold begared;
There may no cost be spared;
Theyr moyles golde dothe eate,
Theyr neyghbours dye for meate.
What care they though Gil sweate,
Or Jacke of the Noke?
The pore people they yoke
With sommons and citacyons
And excommunycacyons,
About churches and market:
The bysshop on his carpet
At home full softe dothe syt.
This is a farly fyt,
To here the people iangle,
Howe warely they wrangle:
Alas, why do ye not handle
And them all to-mangle?
Full falsely on you they lye,
And shamefully you ascrye,
And say as vntruely,
As the butterflye
A man myght saye in mocke
Ware the wethercocke
Of the steple of Poules;
And thus they hurte theyr soules
In sclaunderyng you for truthe:
Alas, it is great ruthe!
Some say ye syt in trones,
Lyke prynces aquilonis,
And shryne your rotten bones
With perles and precyous stones;
But how the commons grones,
And the people mones
For prestes and for lones
Lent and neuer payd,
But from day to day delayde,
The commune welth decayde,
Men say ye are tonge tayde,
And therof speke nothynge
But dyssymulyng and glosyng.
Wherfore men be supposyng
That ye gyue shrewd counsell
Agaynst the commune well,
By poollynge and pyllage
In cytyes and vyllage,
By taxyng and tollage,
Ye make monkes to haue the culerage
For couerynge of an olde cottage,
That commytted is a collage
In the charter of dottage,
Tenure par seruyce de sottage,
And not par seruyce de socage,
After olde seygnyours,
And the lerning of Lytelton tenours:
Ye haue so ouerthwarted,
That good lawes are subuerted,
And good reason peruerted.
Or Jacke of the Noke?
The pore people they yoke
With sommons and citacyons
And excommunycacyons,
About churches and market:
The bysshop on his carpet
At home full softe dothe syt.
This is a farly fyt,
To here the people iangle,
Howe warely they wrangle:
Alas, why do ye not handle
And them all to-mangle?
Full falsely on you they lye,
And shamefully you ascrye,
And say as vntruely,
As the butterflye
A man myght saye in mocke
Ware the wethercocke
Of the steple of Poules;
And thus they hurte theyr soules
In sclaunderyng you for truthe:
Alas, it is great ruthe!
Some say ye syt in trones,
137
And shryne your rotten bones
With perles and precyous stones;
But how the commons grones,
And the people mones
For prestes and for lones
Lent and neuer payd,
But from day to day delayde,
The commune welth decayde,
Men say ye are tonge tayde,
And therof speke nothynge
But dyssymulyng and glosyng.
Wherfore men be supposyng
That ye gyue shrewd counsell
Agaynst the commune well,
By poollynge and pyllage
In cytyes and vyllage,
By taxyng and tollage,
Ye make monkes to haue the culerage
For couerynge of an olde cottage,
That commytted is a collage
In the charter of dottage,
Tenure par seruyce de sottage,
And not par seruyce de socage,
After olde seygnyours,
And the lerning of Lytelton tenours:
Ye haue so ouerthwarted,
That good lawes are subuerted,
And good reason peruerted.
Relygous men are fayne
For to tourne agayne
In secula seculorum,
And to forsake theyr corum,
And vagabundare per forum,
And take a fyne meritorum,
Contra regulam morum,
Aut blacke monachorum,
Aut canonicorum,
Aut Bernardinorum,
Aut crucifixorum,
And to synge from place to place,
Lyke apostataas.
For to tourne agayne
138
And to forsake theyr corum,
And vagabundare per forum,
And take a fyne meritorum,
Contra regulam morum,
Aut blacke monachorum,
Aut canonicorum,
Aut Bernardinorum,
Aut crucifixorum,
And to synge from place to place,
Lyke apostataas.
And the selfe same game
Begone ys nowe with shame
Amongest the sely nonnes:
My lady nowe she ronnes,
Dame Sybly our abbesse,
Dame Dorothe and lady Besse,
Dame Sare our pryoresse,
Out of theyr cloyster and quere
With an heuy chere,
Must cast vp theyr blacke vayles,
And set vp theyr fucke sayles,
To catch wynde with their ventales—
What, Colyne, there thou shales!
Yet thus with yll hayles
The lay fee people rayles.
Begone ys nowe with shame
Amongest the sely nonnes:
My lady nowe she ronnes,
Dame Sybly our abbesse,
Dame Dorothe and lady Besse,
Dame Sare our pryoresse,
Out of theyr cloyster and quere
With an heuy chere,
Must cast vp theyr blacke vayles,
And set vp theyr fucke sayles,
To catch wynde with their ventales—
What, Colyne, there thou shales!
Yet thus with yll hayles
The lay fee people rayles.
And all the fawte they lay
On you, prelates, and say
Ye do them wrong and no ryght
To put them thus to flyght;
No matyns at mydnyght,
Boke and chalys gone quyte;
And plucke awaye the leedes
Evyn ouer theyr heedes,
And sell away theyr belles,
And all that they haue elles:
Thus the people telles,
Rayles lyke rebelles,
Redys shrewdly and spelles,
And with foundacyons melles,
And talkys lyke tytyuelles,
Howe ye brake the dedes wylles,
Turne monasteris into water milles,
Of an abbay ye make a graunge;
Your workes, they saye, are straunge;
So that theyr founders soules
Haue lost theyr beade rolles,
The mony for theyr masses
Spent amonge wanton lasses;
The Diriges are forgotten;
Theyr founders lye theyr rotten,
But where theyr soules dwell,
Therwith I wyll not mell.
What coulde the Turke do more
With all his false lore,
Turke, Sarazyn, or Jew?
I reporte me to you,
O mercyfull Jesu,
You supporte and rescue,
My style for to dyrecte,
It may take some effecte!
For I abhorre to wryte
Howe the lay fee dyspyte
You prelates, that of ryght
Shulde be lanternes of lyght.
Ye lyue, they say, in delyte,
Drowned in deliciis,
In gloria et divitiis,
In admirabili honore,
In gloria, et splendore
Fulgurantis hastæ,
Viventes parum caste:
Yet swete meate hath soure sauce,
For after gloria, laus,
Chryst by cruelte
Was nayled vpon a tre;
He payed a bytter pencyon
For mannes redemcyon,
He dranke eysell and gall
To redeme vs withall;
But swete ypocras ye drynke,
With, Let the cat wynke!
Iche wot what yche other thynk;
Howe be it per assimile
Some men thynke that ye
Shall haue penalte
For your iniquyte.
Nota what I say,
And bere it well away;
If it please not theologys,
It is good for astrologys;
For Ptholome tolde me
The sonne somtyme to be
In Ariete,
Ascendent a degre,
Whan Scorpion descendynge,
Was so then pretendynge
A fatall fall of one
That shuld syt on a trone,
And rule all thynges alone.
Your teth whet on this bone
Amongest you euerychone,
And let Collyn Cloute haue none
Maner of cause to mone:
Lay salue to your owne sore,
For els, as I sayd before,
After gloria, laus,
May come a soure sauce;
Sory therfore am I,
But trouth can neuer lye.
On you, prelates, and say
Ye do them wrong and no ryght
To put them thus to flyght;
139
Boke and chalys gone quyte;
And plucke awaye the leedes
Evyn ouer theyr heedes,
And sell away theyr belles,
And all that they haue elles:
Thus the people telles,
Rayles lyke rebelles,
Redys shrewdly and spelles,
And with foundacyons melles,
And talkys lyke tytyuelles,
Howe ye brake the dedes wylles,
Turne monasteris into water milles,
Of an abbay ye make a graunge;
Your workes, they saye, are straunge;
So that theyr founders soules
Haue lost theyr beade rolles,
The mony for theyr masses
Spent amonge wanton lasses;
The Diriges are forgotten;
Theyr founders lye theyr rotten,
But where theyr soules dwell,
Therwith I wyll not mell.
What coulde the Turke do more
With all his false lore,
Turke, Sarazyn, or Jew?
I reporte me to you,
O mercyfull Jesu,
You supporte and rescue,
My style for to dyrecte,
140
For I abhorre to wryte
Howe the lay fee dyspyte
You prelates, that of ryght
Shulde be lanternes of lyght.
Ye lyue, they say, in delyte,
Drowned in deliciis,
In gloria et divitiis,
In admirabili honore,
In gloria, et splendore
Fulgurantis hastæ,
Viventes parum caste:
Yet swete meate hath soure sauce,
For after gloria, laus,
Chryst by cruelte
Was nayled vpon a tre;
He payed a bytter pencyon
For mannes redemcyon,
He dranke eysell and gall
To redeme vs withall;
But swete ypocras ye drynke,
With, Let the cat wynke!
Iche wot what yche other thynk;
Howe be it per assimile
Some men thynke that ye
Shall haue penalte
For your iniquyte.
Nota what I say,
And bere it well away;
If it please not theologys,
141
For Ptholome tolde me
The sonne somtyme to be
In Ariete,
Ascendent a degre,
Whan Scorpion descendynge,
Was so then pretendynge
A fatall fall of one
That shuld syt on a trone,
And rule all thynges alone.
Your teth whet on this bone
Amongest you euerychone,
And let Collyn Cloute haue none
142
Lay salue to your owne sore,
For els, as I sayd before,
After gloria, laus,
May come a soure sauce;
Sory therfore am I,
But trouth can neuer lye.
With language thus poluted
Holy Churche is bruted
And shamfully confuted.
My penne nowe wyll I sharpe,
And wrest vp my harpe
With sharpe twynkyng trebelles,
Agaynst all suche rebelles
That laboure to confounde
And bryng the Churche to the grounde;
As ye may dayly se
Howe the lay fee
Of one affynyte
Consent and agre
Agaynst the Churche to be,
And the dygnyte
Of the bysshoppes see.
Holy Churche is bruted
And shamfully confuted.
My penne nowe wyll I sharpe,
And wrest vp my harpe
With sharpe twynkyng trebelles,
Agaynst all suche rebelles
That laboure to confounde
And bryng the Churche to the grounde;
As ye may dayly se
Howe the lay fee
Of one affynyte
Consent and agre
Agaynst the Churche to be,
And the dygnyte
Of the bysshoppes see.
143
And eyther ye be to bad,
Or els they ar mad
Of this to reporte:
But, vnder your supporte,
Tyll my dyenge day
I shall bothe wryte and say,
And ye shall do the same,
Howe they are to blame
You thus to dyffame:
For it maketh me sad
Howe that the people are glad
The Churche to depraue;
And some there are that raue,
Presumynge on theyr wyt,
Whan there is neuer a whyt,
To maynteyne argumentes
Agaynst the sacramentes.
Or els they ar mad
Of this to reporte:
But, vnder your supporte,
Tyll my dyenge day
I shall bothe wryte and say,
And ye shall do the same,
Howe they are to blame
You thus to dyffame:
For it maketh me sad
Howe that the people are glad
The Churche to depraue;
And some there are that raue,
Presumynge on theyr wyt,
Whan there is neuer a whyt,
To maynteyne argumentes
Agaynst the sacramentes.
Some make epylogacyon
Of hyghe predestynacyon;
And of resydeuacyon
They make interpretacyon
Of an aquarde facyon;
And of the prescience
Of dyuyne essence;
And what ipostacis
Of Christes manhode is.
Suche logyke men wyll chop,
And in theyr fury hop,
When the good ale sop
Dothe daunce in theyr fore top;
Bothe women and men,
Suche ye may well knowe and ken,
That agaynst preesthode
Theyr malyce sprede abrode,
Raylynge haynously
And dysdaynously
Of preestly dygnytes,
But theyr malygnytes.
Of hyghe predestynacyon;
And of resydeuacyon
They make interpretacyon
Of an aquarde facyon;
And of the prescience
Of dyuyne essence;
And what ipostacis
Of Christes manhode is.
Suche logyke men wyll chop,
And in theyr fury hop,
When the good ale sop
Dothe daunce in theyr fore top;
144
Suche ye may well knowe and ken,
That agaynst preesthode
Theyr malyce sprede abrode,
Raylynge haynously
And dysdaynously
Of preestly dygnytes,
But theyr malygnytes.
And some haue a smacke
Of Luthers sacke,
And a brennyng sparke
Of Luthers warke,
And are somewhat suspecte
In Luthers secte;
And some of them barke,
Clatter and carpe
Of that heresy arte
Called Wicleuista,
The deuelysshe dogmatista;
And some be Hussyans,
And some be Arryans,
And some be Pollegians,
And make moche varyans
Bytwene the clergye
And the temporaltye.
Howe the Church hath to mykel,
And they haue to lytell,
And bryng in materialites
And qualyfyed qualytes;
Of pluralytes,
Of tryalytes,
And of tot quottes,
They commune lyke sottes,
As commeth to theyr lottes;
Of prebendaries and deanes,
Howe some of them gleanes
And gathereth vp the store
For to catche more and more;
Of persons and vycaryes
They make many outcryes;
They cannot kepe theyr wyues
From them for theyr lyues;
And thus the loselles stryues,
And lewdely sayes by Christ
Agaynst the sely preest.
Alas, and well away,
What ayles them thus to say?
They mought be better aduysed
Then to be so dysgysed:
But they haue enterprysed,
And shamfully surmysed,
Howe prelacy is solde and bought,
And come vp of nought;
And where the prelates be
Come of lowe degre,
And set in maieste
And spirituall dyngnyte,
Farwell benygnyte,
Farwell symplicite,
Farwell humylyte,
Farwell good charyte!
Of Luthers sacke,
And a brennyng sparke
Of Luthers warke,
And are somewhat suspecte
In Luthers secte;
And some of them barke,
Clatter and carpe
Of that heresy arte
Called Wicleuista,
The deuelysshe dogmatista;
And some be Hussyans,
And some be Arryans,
And some be Pollegians,
And make moche varyans
Bytwene the clergye
And the temporaltye.
Howe the Church hath to mykel,
And they haue to lytell,
145
And qualyfyed qualytes;
Of pluralytes,
Of tryalytes,
And of tot quottes,
They commune lyke sottes,
As commeth to theyr lottes;
Of prebendaries and deanes,
Howe some of them gleanes
And gathereth vp the store
For to catche more and more;
Of persons and vycaryes
They make many outcryes;
They cannot kepe theyr wyues
From them for theyr lyues;
And thus the loselles stryues,
And lewdely sayes by Christ
Agaynst the sely preest.
Alas, and well away,
What ayles them thus to say?
They mought be better aduysed
Then to be so dysgysed:
But they haue enterprysed,
And shamfully surmysed,
146
And come vp of nought;
And where the prelates be
Come of lowe degre,
And set in maieste
And spirituall dyngnyte,
Farwell benygnyte,
Farwell symplicite,
Farwell humylyte,
Farwell good charyte!
Ye are so puffed wyth pryde,
That no man may abyde
Your hygh and lordely lokes:
Ye cast vp then your bokes,
And vertue is forgotten;
For then ye wyll be wroken
Of euery lyght quarell,
And call a lorde a iauell,
A knyght a knaue ye make;
Ye bost, ye face, ye crake,
And vpon you ye take
To rule bothe kynge and kayser;
And yf ye may haue layser,
Ye wyll brynge all to nought,
And that is all your thought:
For the lordes temporall,
Theyr rule is very small,
Almost nothyng at all.
Men saye howe ye appall
The noble blode royall:
In ernest and in game,
Ye are the lesse to blame,
For lordes of noble blode,
If they well vnderstode
How connyng myght them auaunce,
They wold pype you another daunce:
But noble men borne
To lerne they haue scorne,
But hunt and blowe an horne,
Lepe ouer lakes and dykes,
Set nothyng by polytykes;
Therfore ye kepe them bace,
And mocke them to theyr face:
This is a pyteous case,
To you that ouer the whele
Grete lordes must crouche and knele,
And breke theyr hose at the kne,
As dayly men may se,
And to remembraunce call,
Fortune so turneth the ball
And ruleth so ouer all,
That honoure hath a great fall.
That no man may abyde
Your hygh and lordely lokes:
Ye cast vp then your bokes,
And vertue is forgotten;
For then ye wyll be wroken
Of euery lyght quarell,
And call a lorde a iauell,
A knyght a knaue ye make;
Ye bost, ye face, ye crake,
And vpon you ye take
To rule bothe kynge and kayser;
And yf ye may haue layser,
Ye wyll brynge all to nought,
And that is all your thought:
For the lordes temporall,
Theyr rule is very small,
Almost nothyng at all.
Men saye howe ye appall
The noble blode royall:
147
Ye are the lesse to blame,
For lordes of noble blode,
If they well vnderstode
How connyng myght them auaunce,
They wold pype you another daunce:
But noble men borne
To lerne they haue scorne,
But hunt and blowe an horne,
Lepe ouer lakes and dykes,
Set nothyng by polytykes;
Therfore ye kepe them bace,
And mocke them to theyr face:
This is a pyteous case,
To you that ouer the whele
Grete lordes must crouche and knele,
And breke theyr hose at the kne,
As dayly men may se,
And to remembraunce call,
Fortune so turneth the ball
And ruleth so ouer all,
That honoure hath a great fall.
Shall I tell you more? ye, shall.
I am loth to tell all;
But the communalte yow call
Ydolles of Babylon,
De terra Zabulon,
De terra Neptalym;
For ye loue to go trym,
Brought vp of poore estate,
With pryde inordinate,
Sodaynly vpstarte
From the donge carte,
The mattocke and the shule,
To reygne and to rule;
And haue no grace to thynke
Howe ye were wonte to drynke
Of a lether bottell
With a knauysshe stoppell,
Whan mamockes was your meate,
With moldy brede to eate;
Ye cowde none other gete
To chewe and to gnawe,
To fyll therwith your mawe;
Loggyng in fayre strawe,
Couchyng your drousy heddes
Somtyme in lousy beddes.
Alas, this is out of mynde!
Ye growe nowe out of kynde:
Many one ye haue vntwynde,
And made the commons blynde.
But qui se existimat stare,
Let hym well beware
Lest that his fote slyp,
And haue suche a tryp,
And falle in suche dekay,
That all the worlde may say,
Come downe, in the deuyll way!
I am loth to tell all;
But the communalte yow call
Ydolles of Babylon,
De terra Zabulon,
De terra Neptalym;
For ye loue to go trym,
Brought vp of poore estate,
148
Sodaynly vpstarte
From the donge carte,
The mattocke and the shule,
To reygne and to rule;
And haue no grace to thynke
Howe ye were wonte to drynke
Of a lether bottell
With a knauysshe stoppell,
Whan mamockes was your meate,
With moldy brede to eate;
Ye cowde none other gete
To chewe and to gnawe,
To fyll therwith your mawe;
Loggyng in fayre strawe,
Couchyng your drousy heddes
Somtyme in lousy beddes.
Alas, this is out of mynde!
Ye growe nowe out of kynde:
Many one ye haue vntwynde,
And made the commons blynde.
But qui se existimat stare,
Let hym well beware
Lest that his fote slyp,
And haue suche a tryp,
And falle in suche dekay,
That all the worlde may say,
Come downe, in the deuyll way!
Yet, ouer all that,
Of bysshops they chat,
That though ye round your hear
An ynche aboue your ear,
And haue aures patentes
And parum intendentes,
And your tonsors be croppyd,
Your eares they be stopped;
For maister Adulator,
And doctour Assentator,
And Blandior blandiris,
With Mentior mentiris,
They folowe your desyres,
And so they blere your eye,
That ye can not espye
Howe the male dothe wrye.
Of bysshops they chat,
149
An ynche aboue your ear,
And haue aures patentes
And parum intendentes,
And your tonsors be croppyd,
Your eares they be stopped;
For maister Adulator,
And doctour Assentator,
And Blandior blandiris,
With Mentior mentiris,
They folowe your desyres,
And so they blere your eye,
That ye can not espye
Howe the male dothe wrye.
Alas, for Goddes wyll,
Why syt ye, prelates, styll,
And suffre all this yll?
Ye bysshops of estates
Shulde open the brode gates
Of your spirituall charge,
And com forthe at large,
Lyke lanternes of lyght,
In the peoples syght,
In pullpettes awtentyke,
For the wele publyke
Of preesthode in this case;
And alwayes to chase
Suche maner of sysmatykes
And halfe heretykes,
That wolde intoxicate,
That wolde conquinate,
That wolde contaminate,
And that wolde vyolate,
And that wolde derogate,
And that wolde abrogate
The Churchis hygh estates,
After this maner rates,
The which shulde be
Both franke and free,
And haue theyr lyberte,
As of antiquyte
It was ratefyed,
And also gratifyed,
By holy synodalles
And bulles papalles,
As it is res certa
Conteyned in Magna Charta.
Why syt ye, prelates, styll,
And suffre all this yll?
Ye bysshops of estates
Shulde open the brode gates
Of your spirituall charge,
And com forthe at large,
Lyke lanternes of lyght,
In the peoples syght,
In pullpettes awtentyke,
For the wele publyke
Of preesthode in this case;
And alwayes to chase
Suche maner of sysmatykes
And halfe heretykes,
That wolde intoxicate,
150
That wolde contaminate,
And that wolde vyolate,
And that wolde derogate,
And that wolde abrogate
The Churchis hygh estates,
After this maner rates,
The which shulde be
Both franke and free,
And haue theyr lyberte,
As of antiquyte
It was ratefyed,
And also gratifyed,
By holy synodalles
And bulles papalles,
As it is res certa
Conteyned in Magna Charta.
But maister Damyan,
Or some other man,
That clerkely is and can
Well scrypture expounde
And hys textes grounde,
His benefyce worthe ten pounde,
Or skante worth twenty marke,
And yet a noble clerke,
He must do this werke;
As I knowe a parte,
Some maisters of arte,
Some doctours of lawe,
Some lernde in other sawe,
As in dyuynyte,
That hath no dygnyte
But the pore degre
Of the vnyuersyte;
Or els frere Frederycke,
Or els frere Dominike,
Or frere Hugulinus,
Or frere Agustinus,
Or frere Carmelus,
That gostly can heale vs;
Or els yf we may
Get a frere graye,
Or els of the order
Vpon Grenewyche border,
Called Obseruaunce,
Or a frere of Fraunce;
Or else the poore Scot,
It must come to his lot
To shote forthe his shot;
Or of Babuell besyde Bery,
To postell vpon a kyry,
That wolde it shulde be noted
Howe scripture shulde be coted,
And so clerkley promoted;
And yet the frere doted.
Or some other man,
That clerkely is and can
Well scrypture expounde
And hys textes grounde,
His benefyce worthe ten pounde,
Or skante worth twenty marke,
And yet a noble clerke,
He must do this werke;
As I knowe a parte,
Some maisters of arte,
Some doctours of lawe,
Some lernde in other sawe,
151
That hath no dygnyte
But the pore degre
Of the vnyuersyte;
Or els frere Frederycke,
Or els frere Dominike,
Or frere Hugulinus,
Or frere Agustinus,
Or frere Carmelus,
That gostly can heale vs;
Or els yf we may
Get a frere graye,
Or els of the order
Vpon Grenewyche border,
Called Obseruaunce,
Or a frere of Fraunce;
Or else the poore Scot,
It must come to his lot
To shote forthe his shot;
Or of Babuell besyde Bery,
To postell vpon a kyry,
That wolde it shulde be noted
Howe scripture shulde be coted,
And so clerkley promoted;
And yet the frere doted.
But men sey your awtoryte,
And your noble se,
And your dygnyte,
Shulde be imprynted better
Then all the freres letter;
For if ye wolde take payne
To preche a worde or twayne,
Though it were neuer so playne,
With clauses two or thre,
So as they myght be
Compendyously conueyde,
These wordes shuld be more weyd,
And better perceyued,
And thankfullerlye receyued,
And better shulde remayne
Amonge the people playne,
That wold your wordes retayne
And reherce them agayne,
Than a thousand thousande other,
That blaber, barke, and blother,
And make a Walshmans hose
Of the texte and of the glose.
And your noble se,
And your dygnyte,
Shulde be imprynted better
Then all the freres letter;
For if ye wolde take payne
152
Though it were neuer so playne,
With clauses two or thre,
So as they myght be
Compendyously conueyde,
These wordes shuld be more weyd,
And better perceyued,
And thankfullerlye receyued,
And better shulde remayne
Amonge the people playne,
That wold your wordes retayne
And reherce them agayne,
Than a thousand thousande other,
That blaber, barke, and blother,
And make a Walshmans hose
Of the texte and of the glose.
For protestatyon made,
That I wyll not wade
Farther in this broke,
Nor farther for to loke
In deuysynge of this boke,
But answere that I may
For my selfe alway,
Eyther analogice
Or els categorice,
So that in diuinite
Doctors that lerned be,
Nor bachelers of that faculte
That hath taken degre
In the vniuersite,
Shall not be obiecte at by me.
That I wyll not wade
Farther in this broke,
Nor farther for to loke
In deuysynge of this boke,
But answere that I may
For my selfe alway,
Eyther analogice
Or els categorice,
So that in diuinite
Doctors that lerned be,
Nor bachelers of that faculte
That hath taken degre
In the vniuersite,
Shall not be obiecte at by me.
153
But doctour Bullatus,
Parum litteratus,
Dominus doctoratus
At the brode gatus,
Doctour Daupatus,
And bacheler bacheleratus,
Dronken as a mouse,
At the ale house,
Taketh his pyllyon and his cap
At the good ale tap,
For lacke of good wyne;
As wyse as Robyn swyne,
Vnder a notaryes sygne
Was made a dyuyne;
As wyse as Waltoms calfe,
Must preche, a Goddes halfe,
In the pulpyt solempnely;
More mete in the pyllory,
For, by saynt Hyllary,
He can nothyng smatter
Of logyke nor scole matter,
Neyther syllogisare,
Nor enthymemare,
Nor knoweth his elenkes,
Nor his predicamens;
And yet he wyll mell
To amend the gospell,
And wyll preche and tell
What they do in hell;
And he dare not well neuen
What they do in heuen,
Nor how farre Temple barre is
From the seuen starrys.
Parum litteratus,
Dominus doctoratus
At the brode gatus,
Doctour Daupatus,
And bacheler bacheleratus,
Dronken as a mouse,
At the ale house,
Taketh his pyllyon and his cap
At the good ale tap,
For lacke of good wyne;
As wyse as Robyn swyne,
Vnder a notaryes sygne
Was made a dyuyne;
As wyse as Waltoms calfe,
Must preche, a Goddes halfe,
In the pulpyt solempnely;
More mete in the pyllory,
For, by saynt Hyllary,
He can nothyng smatter
Of logyke nor scole matter,
Neyther syllogisare,
Nor enthymemare,
Nor knoweth his elenkes,
Nor his predicamens;
And yet he wyll mell
To amend the gospell,
And wyll preche and tell
What they do in hell;
And he dare not well neuen
154
Nor how farre Temple barre is
From the seuen starrys.
Nowe wyll I go
And tell of other mo,
Semper protestando
De non impugnando
The foure ordores of fryers,
Though some of them be lyers;
As Lymyters at large
Wyll charge and dyscharge;
As many a frere, God wote,
Preches for his grote,
Flatterynge for a newe cote
And for to haue his fees;
Some to gather chese;
Loth they are to lese
Eyther corne or malte;
Somtyme meale and salte,
Somtyme a bacon flycke,
That is thre fyngers thycke
Of larde and of greace,
Theyr couent to encreace.
And tell of other mo,
Semper protestando
De non impugnando
The foure ordores of fryers,
Though some of them be lyers;
As Lymyters at large
Wyll charge and dyscharge;
As many a frere, God wote,
Preches for his grote,
Flatterynge for a newe cote
And for to haue his fees;
Some to gather chese;
Loth they are to lese
Eyther corne or malte;
Somtyme meale and salte,
Somtyme a bacon flycke,
That is thre fyngers thycke
Of larde and of greace,
Theyr couent to encreace.
I put you out of doute,
This can not be brought aboute
But they theyr tonges fyle,
And make a plesaunt style
To Margery and to Maude,
Howe they haue no fraude;
And somtyme they prouoke
Bothe Gyll and Jacke at Noke
Their dewtyes to withdrawe,
That they ought by the lawe
Theyr curates to content
In open tyme and in Lent:
God wot, they take great payne
To flatter and to fayne;
But it is an olde sayd sawe,
That nede hath no lawe.
Some walke aboute in melottes,
In gray russet and heery cotes;
Some wyl neyther golde ne grotes;
Some plucke a partrych in remotes,
And by the barres of her tayle
Wyll knowe a rauen from a rayle,
A quayle, the raile, and the olde rauen:
Sed libera nos a malo! Amen.
And by Dudum, theyr Clementine,
Agaynst curates they repyne;
And say propreli they ar sacerdotes,
To shryue, assoyle, and reles
Dame Margeries soule out of hell:
But when the freare fell in the well,
He coud not syng himselfe therout
But by the helpe of Christyan Clout.
Another Clementyne also,
How frere Fabian, with other mo,
Exivit de Paradiso;
Whan they agayn theder shal come,
De hoc petimus consilium:
And through all the world they go
With Dirige and Placebo.
This can not be brought aboute
But they theyr tonges fyle,
And make a plesaunt style
To Margery and to Maude,
Howe they haue no fraude;
And somtyme they prouoke
155
Their dewtyes to withdrawe,
That they ought by the lawe
Theyr curates to content
In open tyme and in Lent:
God wot, they take great payne
To flatter and to fayne;
But it is an olde sayd sawe,
That nede hath no lawe.
Some walke aboute in melottes,
In gray russet and heery cotes;
Some wyl neyther golde ne grotes;
Some plucke a partrych in remotes,
And by the barres of her tayle
Wyll knowe a rauen from a rayle,
A quayle, the raile, and the olde rauen:
Sed libera nos a malo! Amen.
And by Dudum, theyr Clementine,
Agaynst curates they repyne;
And say propreli they ar sacerdotes,
To shryue, assoyle, and reles
Dame Margeries soule out of hell:
But when the freare fell in the well,
He coud not syng himselfe therout
But by the helpe of Christyan Clout.
Another Clementyne also,
156
Exivit de Paradiso;
Whan they agayn theder shal come,
De hoc petimus consilium:
And through all the world they go
With Dirige and Placebo.
But nowe my mynd ye vnderstand,
For they must take in hande
To prech, and to withstande
Al maner of abiections;
For bysshops haue protections,
They say, to do corrections,
But they haue no affections
To take the sayd dyrections;
In such maner of cases,
Men say, they bere no faces
To occupye suche places,
To sowe the sede of graces:
Theyr hertes are so faynted,
And they be so attaynted
With coueytous and ambycyon,
And other superstycyon,
That they be deef and dum,
And play scylens and glum,
Can say nothynge but mum.
For they must take in hande
To prech, and to withstande
Al maner of abiections;
For bysshops haue protections,
They say, to do corrections,
But they haue no affections
To take the sayd dyrections;
In such maner of cases,
Men say, they bere no faces
To occupye suche places,
To sowe the sede of graces:
Theyr hertes are so faynted,
And they be so attaynted
With coueytous and ambycyon,
And other superstycyon,
That they be deef and dum,
And play scylens and glum,
Can say nothynge but mum.
They occupye them so
With syngyng Placebo,
They wyll no farther go:
They had leuer to please,
And take their worldly ease,
Than to take on hande
Worsshepfully to withstande
Such temporall warre and bate,
As nowe is made of late
Agaynst holy Churche estate,
Or to maynteyne good quarelles.
The lay men call them barrelles
Full of glotony
And of hypocrysy,
That counterfaytes and payntes
As they were very sayntes:
In matters that them lyke
They shewe them polytyke,
Pretendyng grauyte
And sygnyoryte,
With all solempnyte,
For theyr indempnyte;
For they wyll haue no losse
Of a peny nor of a crosse
Of theyr predyall landes,
That cometh to theyr handes,
And as farre as they dare set,
All is fysshe that cometh to net:
Buyldyng royally
Theyr mancyons curyously,
With turrettes and with toures,
With halles and with boures,
Stretchynge to the starres,
With glasse wyndowes and barres;
Hangynge aboute the walles
Clothes of golde and palles,
Arras of ryche aray,
Fresshe as flours in May;
Wyth dame Dyana naked;
Howe lusty Venus quaked,
And howe Cupyde shaked
His darte, and bent his bowe
For to shote a crowe
At her tyrly tyrlowe;
And howe Parys of Troy
Daunced a lege de moy,
Made lusty sporte and ioy
With dame Helyn the quene;
With suche storyes bydene
Their chambres well besene;
With triumphes of Cesar,
And of Pompeyus war,
Of renowne and of fame
By them to get a name:
Nowe all the worlde stares,
How they ryde in goodly chares,
Conueyed by olyphantes,
With lauryat garlantes,
And by vnycornes
With their semely hornes;
Vpon these beestes rydynge,
Naked boyes strydynge,
With wanton wenches winkyng.
Nowe truly, to my thynkynge,
That is a speculacyon
And a mete meditacyon
For prelates of estate,
Their courage to abate
From worldly wantonnesse,
Theyr chambres thus to dresse
With suche parfetnesse
And all suche holynesse;
How be it they let downe fall
Their churches cathedrall.
With syngyng Placebo,
They wyll no farther go:
They had leuer to please,
And take their worldly ease,
157
Worsshepfully to withstande
Such temporall warre and bate,
As nowe is made of late
Agaynst holy Churche estate,
Or to maynteyne good quarelles.
The lay men call them barrelles
Full of glotony
And of hypocrysy,
That counterfaytes and payntes
As they were very sayntes:
In matters that them lyke
They shewe them polytyke,
Pretendyng grauyte
And sygnyoryte,
With all solempnyte,
For theyr indempnyte;
For they wyll haue no losse
Of a peny nor of a crosse
Of theyr predyall landes,
That cometh to theyr handes,
And as farre as they dare set,
All is fysshe that cometh to net:
Buyldyng royally
Theyr mancyons curyously,
With turrettes and with toures,
With halles and with boures,
Stretchynge to the starres,
With glasse wyndowes and barres;
Hangynge aboute the walles
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Arras of ryche aray,
Fresshe as flours in May;
Wyth dame Dyana naked;
Howe lusty Venus quaked,
And howe Cupyde shaked
His darte, and bent his bowe
For to shote a crowe
At her tyrly tyrlowe;
And howe Parys of Troy
Daunced a lege de moy,
Made lusty sporte and ioy
With dame Helyn the quene;
With suche storyes bydene
Their chambres well besene;
With triumphes of Cesar,
And of Pompeyus war,
Of renowne and of fame
By them to get a name:
Nowe all the worlde stares,
How they ryde in goodly chares,
Conueyed by olyphantes,
With lauryat garlantes,
And by vnycornes
With their semely hornes;
Vpon these beestes rydynge,
Naked boyes strydynge,
With wanton wenches winkyng.
Nowe truly, to my thynkynge,
That is a speculacyon
159
For prelates of estate,
Their courage to abate
From worldly wantonnesse,
Theyr chambres thus to dresse
With suche parfetnesse
And all suche holynesse;
How be it they let downe fall
Their churches cathedrall.
Squyre, knyght, and lorde,
Thus the Churche remorde;
With all temporall people
They rune agaynst the steple,
Thus talkynge and tellyng
How some of you are mellyng;
Yet softe and fayre for swellyng,
Beware of a quenes yellyng.
It is a besy thyng
For one man to rule a kyng
Alone and make rekenyng,
To gouerne ouer all
And rule a realme royall
By one mannes verrey wyt;
Fortune may chaunce to flyt,
And whan he weneth to syt,
Yet may he mysse the quysshon:
For I rede a preposycyon,
Cum regibus amicare,
Et omnibus dominari,
Et supra te pravare;
Wherfore he hathe good vre
That can hymselfe assure
Howe fortune wyll endure.
Than let reason you supporte,
For the communalte dothe reporte
That they haue great wonder
That ye kepe them so vnder;
Yet they meruayle so moche lesse,
For ye play so at the chesse,
As they suppose and gesse,
That some of you but late
Hath played so checkemate
With lordes of great estate,
After suche a rate,
That they shall mell nor make,
Nor vpon them take,
For kynge nor kayser sake,
But at the playsure of one
That ruleth the roste alone.
Thus the Churche remorde;
With all temporall people
They rune agaynst the steple,
Thus talkynge and tellyng
How some of you are mellyng;
Yet softe and fayre for swellyng,
Beware of a quenes yellyng.
It is a besy thyng
For one man to rule a kyng
Alone and make rekenyng,
To gouerne ouer all
And rule a realme royall
By one mannes verrey wyt;
Fortune may chaunce to flyt,
And whan he weneth to syt,
Yet may he mysse the quysshon:
For I rede a preposycyon,
Cum regibus amicare,
Et omnibus dominari,
Et supra te pravare;
160
That can hymselfe assure
Howe fortune wyll endure.
Than let reason you supporte,
For the communalte dothe reporte
That they haue great wonder
That ye kepe them so vnder;
Yet they meruayle so moche lesse,
For ye play so at the chesse,
As they suppose and gesse,
That some of you but late
Hath played so checkemate
With lordes of great estate,
After suche a rate,
That they shall mell nor make,
Nor vpon them take,
For kynge nor kayser sake,
But at the playsure of one
That ruleth the roste alone.
Helas, I say, helas!
Howe may this come to passe,
That a man shall here a masse,
And not so hardy on his hede
To loke on God in forme of brede,
But that the parysshe clerke
There vpon must herke,
And graunt hym at his askyng
For to se the sacryng?
Howe may this come to passe,
That a man shall here a masse,
And not so hardy on his hede
To loke on God in forme of brede,
But that the parysshe clerke
There vpon must herke,
And graunt hym at his askyng
For to se the sacryng?
And howe may this accorde,
No man to our souerayne lorde
So hardy to make sute,
Nor yet to execute
His commaundement,
Without the assent
Of our presydent,
Nor to expresse to his person,
Without your consentatyon
Graunt hym his lycence
To preas to his presence,
Nor to speke to hym secretly,
Openly nor preuyly,
Without his presydent be by,
Or els his substytute
Whom he wyll depute?
Neyther erle ne duke
Permytted? by saynt Luke,
And by swete saynt Marke,
This is a wonderous warke!
That the people talke this,
Somewhat there is amysse:
The deuil cannot stop their mouthes,
But they wyl talke of such vncouthes,
All that euer they ken
Agaynst all spirituall men.
No man to our souerayne lorde
161
Nor yet to execute
His commaundement,
Without the assent
Of our presydent,
Nor to expresse to his person,
Without your consentatyon
Graunt hym his lycence
To preas to his presence,
Nor to speke to hym secretly,
Openly nor preuyly,
Without his presydent be by,
Or els his substytute
Whom he wyll depute?
Neyther erle ne duke
Permytted? by saynt Luke,
And by swete saynt Marke,
This is a wonderous warke!
That the people talke this,
Somewhat there is amysse:
The deuil cannot stop their mouthes,
But they wyl talke of such vncouthes,
All that euer they ken
Agaynst all spirituall men.
Whether it be wrong or ryght,
Or els for dyspyght,
Or howe euer it hap,
Theyr tonges thus do clap,
And through suche detractyon
They put you to your actyon;
And whether they say trewly
As they may abyde therby,
Or els that they do lye,
Ye knowe better then I.
But nowe debetis scire,
And groundly audire,
In your convenire,
Of this premenire,
Or els in the myre
They saye they wyll you cast;
Therfore stande sure and fast.
Or els for dyspyght,
Or howe euer it hap,
Theyr tonges thus do clap,
And through suche detractyon
They put you to your actyon;
162
As they may abyde therby,
Or els that they do lye,
Ye knowe better then I.
But nowe debetis scire,
And groundly audire,
In your convenire,
Of this premenire,
Or els in the myre
They saye they wyll you cast;
Therfore stande sure and fast.
Stande sure, and take good fotyng,
And let be all your motyng,
Your gasyng and your totyng,
And your parcyall promotyng
Of those that stande in your grace;
But olde seruauntes ye chase,
And put them out of theyr place.
Make ye no murmuracyon,
Though I wryte after this facion;
Though I, Colyn Cloute,
Among the hole route
Of you that clerkes be,
Take nowe vpon me
Thus copyously to wryte,
I do it for no despyte.
Wherfore take no dysdayne
At my style rude and playne;
For I rebuke no man
That vertuous is: why than
Wreke ye your anger on me?
For those that vertuous be
Haue no cause to say
That I speke out of the way.
And let be all your motyng,
Your gasyng and your totyng,
And your parcyall promotyng
Of those that stande in your grace;
But olde seruauntes ye chase,
And put them out of theyr place.
Make ye no murmuracyon,
Though I wryte after this facion;
Though I, Colyn Cloute,
Among the hole route
Of you that clerkes be,
Take nowe vpon me
Thus copyously to wryte,
I do it for no despyte.
Wherfore take no dysdayne
At my style rude and playne;
For I rebuke no man
That vertuous is: why than
163
For those that vertuous be
Haue no cause to say
That I speke out of the way.
Of no good bysshop, speke I,
Nor good preest I escrye,
Good frere, nor good chanon,
Good nonne, nor good canon,
Good monke, nor good clercke,
Nor yette of no good werke:
But my recountyng is
Of them that do amys,
In speking and rebellyng,
In hynderyng and dysauaylyng
Holy Churche, our mother,
One agaynst another;
To vse suche despytyng
Is all my hole wrytyng;
To hynder no man,
As nere as I can,
For no man haue I named:
Wherfore sholde I be blamed?
Ye ought to be ashamed,
Agaynst me to be gramed,
And can tell no cause why,
But that I wryte trewly.
Nor good preest I escrye,
Good frere, nor good chanon,
Good nonne, nor good canon,
Good monke, nor good clercke,
Nor yette of no good werke:
But my recountyng is
Of them that do amys,
In speking and rebellyng,
In hynderyng and dysauaylyng
Holy Churche, our mother,
One agaynst another;
To vse suche despytyng
Is all my hole wrytyng;
To hynder no man,
As nere as I can,
For no man haue I named:
Wherfore sholde I be blamed?
Ye ought to be ashamed,
Agaynst me to be gramed,
And can tell no cause why,
But that I wryte trewly.
Then yf any there be
Of hygh or lowe degre
Of the spiritualte,
Or of the temporalte,
That dothe thynke or wene
That his conscyence be not clene,
And feleth hymselfe sycke,
Or touched on the quycke,
Suche grace God them sende
Themselfe to amende,
For I wyll not pretende
Any man to offende.
Of hygh or lowe degre
Of the spiritualte,
Or of the temporalte,
164
That his conscyence be not clene,
And feleth hymselfe sycke,
Or touched on the quycke,
Suche grace God them sende
Themselfe to amende,
For I wyll not pretende
Any man to offende.
Wherfore, as thynketh me,
Great ydeottes they be,
And lytell grace they haue,
This treatyse to depraue;
Nor wyll here no prechyng,
Nor no vertuous techyng,
Nor wyll haue no resytyng
Of any vertuous wrytyng;
Wyll knowe none intellygence
To refourme theyr neglygence,
But lyue styll out of facyon,
To theyr owne dampnacyon.
To do shame they haue no shame,
But they wold no man shulde them blame:
They haue an euyl name,
But yet they wyll occupy the same.
Great ydeottes they be,
And lytell grace they haue,
This treatyse to depraue;
Nor wyll here no prechyng,
Nor no vertuous techyng,
Nor wyll haue no resytyng
Of any vertuous wrytyng;
Wyll knowe none intellygence
To refourme theyr neglygence,
But lyue styll out of facyon,
To theyr owne dampnacyon.
To do shame they haue no shame,
But they wold no man shulde them blame:
They haue an euyl name,
But yet they wyll occupy the same.
With them the worde of God
Is counted for no rod;
They counte it for a raylyng,
That nothyng is auaylyng;
The prechers with euyll hayling:
Shall they daunt vs prelates,
That be theyr prymates?
Not so hardy on theyr pates!
Herke, howe the losell prates,
With a wyde wesaunt!
Auaunt, syr Guy of Gaunt!
Auaunt, lewde preest, auaunt!
Auaunt, syr doctour Deuyas!
Prate of thy matyns and thy masse,
And let our maters passe:
Howe darest thou, daucocke, mell?
Howe darest thou, losell,
Allygate the gospell
Agaynst vs of the counsell?
Auaunt to the deuyll of hell!
Take hym, wardeyne of the Flete,
Set hym fast by the fete!
I say, lyeutenaunt of the Toure,
Make this lurdeyne for to loure;
Lodge hym in Lytell Ease,
Fede hym with beanes and pease!
The Kynges Benche or Marshalsy,
Haue hym thyder by and by!
The vyllayne precheth openly,
And declareth our vyllany;
And of our fre symplenesse
He sayes that we are rechelesse,
And full of wylfulnesse,
Shameles and mercylesse,
Incorrigible and insaciate;
And after this rate
Agaynst vs dothe prate.
Is counted for no rod;
They counte it for a raylyng,
That nothyng is auaylyng;
The prechers with euyll hayling:
Shall they daunt vs prelates,
165
Not so hardy on theyr pates!
Herke, howe the losell prates,
With a wyde wesaunt!
Auaunt, syr Guy of Gaunt!
Auaunt, lewde preest, auaunt!
Auaunt, syr doctour Deuyas!
Prate of thy matyns and thy masse,
And let our maters passe:
Howe darest thou, daucocke, mell?
Howe darest thou, losell,
Allygate the gospell
Agaynst vs of the counsell?
Auaunt to the deuyll of hell!
Take hym, wardeyne of the Flete,
Set hym fast by the fete!
I say, lyeutenaunt of the Toure,
Make this lurdeyne for to loure;
Lodge hym in Lytell Ease,
Fede hym with beanes and pease!
The Kynges Benche or Marshalsy,
Haue hym thyder by and by!
The vyllayne precheth openly,
And declareth our vyllany;
And of our fre symplenesse
He sayes that we are rechelesse,
And full of wylfulnesse,
Shameles and mercylesse,
Incorrigible and insaciate;
And after this rate
Agaynst vs dothe prate.
166
At Poules Crosse or els where,
Openly at Westmynstere,
And Saynt Mary Spyttell,
They set not by vs a whystell:
At the Austen fryers
They count vs for lyers:
And at Saynt Thomas of Akers
They carpe vs lyke crakers,
Howe we wyll rule all at wyll
Without good reason or skyll;
And say how that we be
Full of parcyalyte;
And howe at a pronge
We tourne ryght into wronge,
Delay causes so longe
That ryght no man can fonge;
They say many matters be born
By the ryght of a rambes horne.
Is not this a shamfull scorne,
To be teared thus and torne
Openly at Westmynstere,
And Saynt Mary Spyttell,
They set not by vs a whystell:
At the Austen fryers
They count vs for lyers:
And at Saynt Thomas of Akers
They carpe vs lyke crakers,
Howe we wyll rule all at wyll
Without good reason or skyll;
And say how that we be
Full of parcyalyte;
And howe at a pronge
We tourne ryght into wronge,
Delay causes so longe
That ryght no man can fonge;
They say many matters be born
By the ryght of a rambes horne.
Is not this a shamfull scorne,
To be teared thus and torne
How may we thys indure?
Wherfore we make you sure,
Ye prechers shall be yawde;
And some shall be sawde,
As noble Isaias,
The holy prophet, was;
And some of you shall dye,
Lyke holy Jeremy;
Some hanged, some slayne,
Some beaten to the brayne;
And we wyll rule and rayne,
And our matters mayntayne
Who dare say there agayne,
Or who dare dysdayne
At our pleasure and wyll:
For, be it good or be it yll,
As it is, it shall be styll,
For all master doctour of Cyuyll,
Or of Diuine, or doctour Dryuyll,
Let hym cough, rough, or sneuyll;
Renne God, renne deuyll,
Renne who may renne best,
And let take all the rest!
We set not a nut shell
The way to heuen or to hell.
Wherfore we make you sure,
Ye prechers shall be yawde;
And some shall be sawde,
As noble Isaias,
The holy prophet, was;
And some of you shall dye,
Lyke holy Jeremy;
Some hanged, some slayne,
Some beaten to the brayne;
167
And our matters mayntayne
Who dare say there agayne,
Or who dare dysdayne
At our pleasure and wyll:
For, be it good or be it yll,
As it is, it shall be styll,
For all master doctour of Cyuyll,
Or of Diuine, or doctour Dryuyll,
Let hym cough, rough, or sneuyll;
Renne God, renne deuyll,
Renne who may renne best,
And let take all the rest!
We set not a nut shell
The way to heuen or to hell.
Lo, this is the gyse now a dayes!
It is to drede, men sayes,
Lest they be Saduces,
As they be sayd sayne
Whiche determyned playne
We shulde not ryse agayne
At dredefull domis day;
And so it semeth they play,
Whiche hate to be corrected
Whan they be infected,
Nor wyll suffre this boke
By hoke ne by croke
Prynted for to be,
For that no man shulde se
Nor rede in any scrolles
Of theyr dronken nolles,
Nor of theyr noddy polles,
Nor of theyr sely soules,
Nor of some wytles pates
Of dyuers great estates,
As well as other men.
It is to drede, men sayes,
Lest they be Saduces,
As they be sayd sayne
Whiche determyned playne
We shulde not ryse agayne
At dredefull domis day;
And so it semeth they play,
Whiche hate to be corrected
Whan they be infected,
Nor wyll suffre this boke
By hoke ne by croke
Prynted for to be,
For that no man shulde se
Nor rede in any scrolles
168
Nor of theyr noddy polles,
Nor of theyr sely soules,
Nor of some wytles pates
Of dyuers great estates,
As well as other men.
Now to withdrawe my pen,
And now a whyle to rest,
Me semeth it for the best.
The forecastell of my shyp
And now a whyle to rest,
Me semeth it for the best.
Shall glyde, and smothely slyp
Out of the wawes wod
Of the stormy flod;
Shote anker, and lye at rode,
And sayle not farre abrode,
Tyll the cost be clere,
And the lode starre appere:
My shyp nowe wyll I stere
Towarde the porte salu
Of our Sauyour Jesu,
Suche grace that he vs sende,
To rectyfye and amende
Thynges that are amys,
Whan that his pleasure is.
Amen!
In opere imperfecto,
In opere semper perfecto,
Et in opere plusquam perfecto!
In opere semper perfecto,
Et in opere plusquam perfecto!
170
A RYGHT DELECTABLE TRATYSE VPON A GOODLY GARLANDE OR CHAPELET OF LAURELL,
BY MAYSTER SKELTON, POETE LAUREAT, STUDYOUSLY DYUYSED AT SHERYFHOTTON CASTELL, IN THE FORESTE OF GALTRES, WHEREIN AR COMPRYSYDE MANY AND DYUERS SOLACYONS AND RYGHT PREGNANT ALLECTYUES OF SYNGULAR PLEASURE, AS MORE AT LARGE IT DOTH APERE IN THE PROCES FOLOWYNGE.
Eterno mansura die dum sidera fulgent,Æquora dumque tument, hæc laurea nostra virebit:
Hinc nostrum celebre et nomen referetur ad astra,
Undique Skeltonis memorabitur alter Adonis.
Arectyng my syght towarde the zodyake,
The sygnes xii for to beholde a farre,
When Mars retrogradant reuersyd his bak,
Lorde of the yere in his orbicular,
Put vp his sworde, for he cowde make no warre,
And whan Lucina plenarly did shyne,
Scorpione ascendynge degrees twyse nyne;
The sygnes xii for to beholde a farre,
When Mars retrogradant reuersyd his bak,
Lorde of the yere in his orbicular,
Put vp his sworde, for he cowde make no warre,
And whan Lucina plenarly did shyne,
Scorpione ascendynge degrees twyse nyne;
171
In place alone then musynge in my thought
How all thynge passyth as doth the somer flower,
On euery halfe my reasons forthe I sought,
How oftyn fortune varyeth in an howre,
Now clere wether, forthwith a stormy showre;
All thynge compassyd, no perpetuyte,
But now in welthe, now in aduersyte.
How all thynge passyth as doth the somer flower,
On euery halfe my reasons forthe I sought,
How oftyn fortune varyeth in an howre,
Now clere wether, forthwith a stormy showre;
All thynge compassyd, no perpetuyte,
But now in welthe, now in aduersyte.
So depely drownyd I was in this dumpe,
Encraumpysshed so sore was my conceyte,
That, me to rest, I lent me to a stumpe
Of an oke, that somtyme grew full streyghte,
A myghty tre and of a noble heyght,
Whose bewte blastyd was with the boystors wynde,
His leuis loste, the sappe was frome the rynde.
Encraumpysshed so sore was my conceyte,
That, me to rest, I lent me to a stumpe
Of an oke, that somtyme grew full streyghte,
A myghty tre and of a noble heyght,
Whose bewte blastyd was with the boystors wynde,
His leuis loste, the sappe was frome the rynde.
Thus stode I in the frytthy forest of Galtres,
Ensowkid with sylt of the myry mose,
Where hartis belluyng, embosyd with distres,
Ran on the raunge so longe, that I suppose
Few men can tell now where the hynde calfe gose;
Faire fall that forster that so well can bate his hownde!
But of my purpose now torne we to the grownde.
Ensowkid with sylt of the myry mose,
Where hartis belluyng, embosyd with distres,
Ran on the raunge so longe, that I suppose
Few men can tell now where the hynde calfe gose;
Faire fall that forster that so well can bate his hownde!
But of my purpose now torne we to the grownde.
Whylis I stode musynge in this medytatyon,
In slumbrynge I fell and halfe in a slepe;
And whether it were of ymagynacyon,
Or of humors superflue, that often wyll crepe
Into the brayne by drynkyng ouer depe,
Or it procedyd of fatall persuacyon,
I can not wele tell you what was the occasyon;
In slumbrynge I fell and halfe in a slepe;
172
Or of humors superflue, that often wyll crepe
Into the brayne by drynkyng ouer depe,
Or it procedyd of fatall persuacyon,
I can not wele tell you what was the occasyon;
But sodeynly at ones, as I me aduysed,
As one in a trans or in an extasy,
I sawe a pauylyon wondersly disgysede,
Garnysshed fresshe after my fantasy,
Enhachyde with perle and stones preciously,
The grounde engrosyd and bet with bourne golde,
That passynge goodly it was to beholde:
As one in a trans or in an extasy,
I sawe a pauylyon wondersly disgysede,
Garnysshed fresshe after my fantasy,
Enhachyde with perle and stones preciously,
The grounde engrosyd and bet with bourne golde,
That passynge goodly it was to beholde:
Within it, a prynces excellente of porte;
But to recount her ryche abylyment,
And what estates to her did resorte,
Therto am I full insuffycyent;
A goddesse inmortall she dyd represente;
As I harde say, dame Pallas was her name;
To whome supplyed the royall Quene of Fame.
But to recount her ryche abylyment,
And what estates to her did resorte,
Therto am I full insuffycyent;
A goddesse inmortall she dyd represente;
As I harde say, dame Pallas was her name;
To whome supplyed the royall Quene of Fame.
The Quene of Fame to Dame Pallas.
Prynces moost pusant, of hygh preemynence,
Renownyd lady aboue the sterry heuyn,
All other transcendyng, of very congruence
Madame regent of the scyence seuyn,
To whos astate all noblenes most lenen,
My supplycacyon to you I arrect,
Whereof I beseche you to tender the effecte.
Renownyd lady aboue the sterry heuyn,
All other transcendyng, of very congruence
173
To whos astate all noblenes most lenen,
My supplycacyon to you I arrect,
Whereof I beseche you to tender the effecte.
Not vnremembered it is vnto your grace,
How you gaue me a ryall commaundement
That in my courte Skelton shulde haue a place,
Bycause that his tyme he studyously hath spent
In your seruyce; and, to the accomplysshement
Of your request, regestred is his name
With laureate tryumphe in the courte of Fame.
How you gaue me a ryall commaundement
That in my courte Skelton shulde haue a place,
Bycause that his tyme he studyously hath spent
In your seruyce; and, to the accomplysshement
Of your request, regestred is his name
With laureate tryumphe in the courte of Fame.
But, good madame, the accustome and vsage
Of auncient poetis, ye wote full wele, hath bene
Them selfe to embesy with all there holl corage,
So that there workis myght famously be sene,
In figure wherof they were the laurell grene;
But how it is, Skelton is wonder slake,
And, as we dare, we fynde in hym grete lake:
Of auncient poetis, ye wote full wele, hath bene
Them selfe to embesy with all there holl corage,
So that there workis myght famously be sene,
In figure wherof they were the laurell grene;
But how it is, Skelton is wonder slake,
And, as we dare, we fynde in hym grete lake:
For, ne were onely he hath your promocyon,
Out of my bokis full sone I shulde hym rase;
But sith he hath tastid of the sugred pocioun
Of Elyconis well, refresshid with your grace,
And wyll not endeuour hymselfe to purchase
The fauour of ladys with wordis electe,
It is sittynge that ye must hym correct.
Out of my bokis full sone I shulde hym rase;
But sith he hath tastid of the sugred pocioun
Of Elyconis well, refresshid with your grace,
And wyll not endeuour hymselfe to purchase
The fauour of ladys with wordis electe,
It is sittynge that ye must hym correct.
174
Dame Pallas to the Quene of Fame.
The sum of your purpose, as we ar aduysid,
Is that our seruaunt is sum what to dull;
Wherin this answere for hym we haue comprisid,
How ryuers rin not tyll the spryng be full;
Better a dum mouthe than a brainles scull;
For if he gloryously pullishe his matter,
Then men wyll say how he doth but flatter;
Is that our seruaunt is sum what to dull;
Wherin this answere for hym we haue comprisid,
How ryuers rin not tyll the spryng be full;
Better a dum mouthe than a brainles scull;
For if he gloryously pullishe his matter,
Then men wyll say how he doth but flatter;
And if so hym fortune to wryte true and plaine,
As sumtyme he must vyces remorde,
Then sum wyll say he hath but lyttill brayne,
And how his wordes with reason wyll not accorde;
Beware, for wrytyng remayneth of recorde;
Displease not an hundreth for one mannes pleasure;
Who wryteth wysely hath a grete treasure.
As sumtyme he must vyces remorde,
Then sum wyll say he hath but lyttill brayne,
And how his wordes with reason wyll not accorde;
Beware, for wrytyng remayneth of recorde;
Displease not an hundreth for one mannes pleasure;
Who wryteth wysely hath a grete treasure.
Also, to furnisshe better his excuse,
Ouyde was bannisshed for suche a skyll,
And many mo whome I cowde enduce;
Iuuenall was thret parde for to kyll
For certayne enuectyfys, yet wrote he none ill,
Sauynge he rubbid sum vpon the gall;
It was not for hym to abyde the tryall.
Ouyde was bannisshed for suche a skyll,
And many mo whome I cowde enduce;
Iuuenall was thret parde for to kyll
For certayne enuectyfys, yet wrote he none ill,
Sauynge he rubbid sum vpon the gall;
It was not for hym to abyde the tryall.
In generrall wordes, I say not gretely nay,
A poete somtyme may for his pleasure taunt,
Spekyng in parablis, how the fox, the grey,
The gander, the gose, and the hudge oliphaunt,
Went with the pecok ageyne the fesaunt;
The lesarde came lepyng, and sayd that he must,
With helpe of the ram, ley all in the dust.
A poete somtyme may for his pleasure taunt,
175
The gander, the gose, and the hudge oliphaunt,
Went with the pecok ageyne the fesaunt;
The lesarde came lepyng, and sayd that he must,
With helpe of the ram, ley all in the dust.
Yet dyuerse ther be, industryous of reason,
Sum what wolde gadder in there coniecture
Of suche an endarkid chapiter sum season;
How be it, it were harde to construe this lecture;
Sophisticatid craftely is many a confecture;
Another manes mynde diffuse is to expounde;
Yet harde is to make but sum fawt be founde.
Sum what wolde gadder in there coniecture
Of suche an endarkid chapiter sum season;
How be it, it were harde to construe this lecture;
Sophisticatid craftely is many a confecture;
Another manes mynde diffuse is to expounde;
Yet harde is to make but sum fawt be founde.
The Quene of Fame to Dame Pallas.
Madame, with fauour of your benynge sufferaunce,
Vnto your grace then make I this motyue;
Whereto made ye me hym to auaunce
Vnto the rowme of laureat promotyue?
Or wherto shulde he haue that prerogatyue,
But if he had made sum memoryall,
Wherby he myght haue a name inmortall?
Vnto your grace then make I this motyue;
Whereto made ye me hym to auaunce
Vnto the rowme of laureat promotyue?
Or wherto shulde he haue that prerogatyue,
But if he had made sum memoryall,
Wherby he myght haue a name inmortall?
To pas the tyme in slowthfull ydelnes,
Of your royall palace it is not the gyse,
But to do sumwhat iche man doth hym dres:
For how shulde Cato els be callyd wyse,
But that his bokis, whiche he did deuyse,
Recorde the same? or why is had in mynde
Plato, but for that he left wrytynge behynde,
Of your royall palace it is not the gyse,
But to do sumwhat iche man doth hym dres:
For how shulde Cato els be callyd wyse,
But that his bokis, whiche he did deuyse,
Recorde the same? or why is had in mynde
Plato, but for that he left wrytynge behynde,
176
For men to loke on? Aristotille also,
Of phylosophers callid the princypall,
Olde Diogenes, with other many mo,
Demostenes, that oratour royall,
That gaue Eschines suche a cordyall.
That bannisshed was he by his proposicyoun,
Ageyne whome he cowde make no contradicyoun?
Of phylosophers callid the princypall,
Olde Diogenes, with other many mo,
Demostenes, that oratour royall,
That gaue Eschines suche a cordyall.
That bannisshed was he by his proposicyoun,
Ageyne whome he cowde make no contradicyoun?
Dame Pallas to the Quene of Fame.
Soft, my good syster, and make there a pawse:
And was Eschines rebukid as ye say?
Remembre you wele, poynt wele that clause;
Wherfore then rasid ye not away
His name? or why is it, I you praye,
That he to your courte is goyng and commynge,
Sith he is slaundred for defaut of konnyng?
And was Eschines rebukid as ye say?
Remembre you wele, poynt wele that clause;
Wherfore then rasid ye not away
His name? or why is it, I you praye,
That he to your courte is goyng and commynge,
Sith he is slaundred for defaut of konnyng?
The Quene of Fame to Dame Pallas.
Madame, your apposelle is wele inferrid,
And at your auauntage quikly it is
Towchid, and hard for to be debarrid;
Yet shall I answere your grace as in this,
With your reformacion, if I say amis,
For, but if your bounte did me assure,
Myne argument els koude not longe endure.
And at your auauntage quikly it is
Towchid, and hard for to be debarrid;
Yet shall I answere your grace as in this,
With your reformacion, if I say amis,
For, but if your bounte did me assure,
Myne argument els koude not longe endure.
As towchyng that Eschines is remembred,
That he so sholde be, me semith it sittyng,
All be it grete parte he hath surrendred
Of his onour, whos dissuasyue in wrytyng
To corage Demostenes was moche excitynge,
In settyng out fresshely his crafty persuacyon,
From whiche Eschines had none euacyon.
That he so sholde be, me semith it sittyng,
All be it grete parte he hath surrendred
177
To corage Demostenes was moche excitynge,
In settyng out fresshely his crafty persuacyon,
From whiche Eschines had none euacyon.
The cause why Demostenes so famously is brutid,
Onely procedid for that he did outray
Eschines, whiche was not shamefully confutid
But of that famous oratour, I say,
Whiche passid all other; wherfore I may
Among my recordes suffer hym namyd,
For though he were venquesshid, yet was he not shamyd:
Onely procedid for that he did outray
Eschines, whiche was not shamefully confutid
But of that famous oratour, I say,
Whiche passid all other; wherfore I may
Among my recordes suffer hym namyd,
For though he were venquesshid, yet was he not shamyd:
As Ierome, in his preamble Frater Ambrosius,
Frome that I haue sayde in no poynt doth vary,
Wherein he reporteth of the coragius
Wordes that were moch consolatory
By Eschines rehersed to the grete glory
Of Demostenes, that was his vtter foo:
Few shall ye fynde or none that wyll do so.
Frome that I haue sayde in no poynt doth vary,
Wherein he reporteth of the coragius
Wordes that were moch consolatory
By Eschines rehersed to the grete glory
Of Demostenes, that was his vtter foo:
Few shall ye fynde or none that wyll do so.
Dame Pallas to the Quene of Fame.
A thanke to haue, ye haue well deseruyd,
Your mynde that can maynteyne so apparently;
But a grete parte yet ye haue reseruyd
Of that most folow then conseqently,
Or els ye demeane you inordinatly;
For if ye laude hym whome honour hath opprest,
Then he that doth worste is as good as the best.
Your mynde that can maynteyne so apparently;
But a grete parte yet ye haue reseruyd
Of that most folow then conseqently,
Or els ye demeane you inordinatly;
For if ye laude hym whome honour hath opprest,
Then he that doth worste is as good as the best.
178
But whome that ye fauoure, I se well, hath a name,
Be he neuer so lytell of substaunce,
And whome ye loue not ye wyll put to shame;
Ye counterwey not euynly your balaunce;
As wele foly as wysdome oft ye do avaunce:
For reporte ryseth many deuerse wayes:
Sume be moche spokyn of for makynge of frays;
Be he neuer so lytell of substaunce,
And whome ye loue not ye wyll put to shame;
Ye counterwey not euynly your balaunce;
As wele foly as wysdome oft ye do avaunce:
For reporte ryseth many deuerse wayes:
Sume be moche spokyn of for makynge of frays;
Some haue a name for thefte and brybery;
Some be called crafty, that can pyke a purse;
Some men be made of for their mokery;
Some carefull cokwoldes, some haue theyr wyues curs;
Some famous wetewoldis, and they be moche wurs;
Some lidderons, some losels, some noughty packis;
Some facers, some bracers, some make great crackis;
Some be called crafty, that can pyke a purse;
Some men be made of for their mokery;
Some carefull cokwoldes, some haue theyr wyues curs;
Some famous wetewoldis, and they be moche wurs;
Some lidderons, some losels, some noughty packis;
Some facers, some bracers, some make great crackis;
Some dronken dastardis with their dry soules;
Some sluggyssh slouyns, that slepe day and nyght;
Ryot and Reuell be in your courte rowlis;
Maintenaunce and Mischefe, theis be men of myght;
Extorcyon is counted with you for a knyght;
Theis people by me haue none assignement,
Yet they ryde and rinne from Carlyll to Kente.
Some sluggyssh slouyns, that slepe day and nyght;
Ryot and Reuell be in your courte rowlis;
Maintenaunce and Mischefe, theis be men of myght;
Extorcyon is counted with you for a knyght;
Theis people by me haue none assignement,
Yet they ryde and rinne from Carlyll to Kente.
179
But lytell or nothynge ye shall here tell
Of them that haue vertue by reason of cunnyng,
Whiche souerenly in honoure shulde excell;
Men of suche maters make but a mummynge,
For wysdome and sadnesse be set out a sunnyng;
And suche of my seruauntes as I haue promotyd,
One faute or other in them shalbe notyd:
Of them that haue vertue by reason of cunnyng,
Whiche souerenly in honoure shulde excell;
Men of suche maters make but a mummynge,
For wysdome and sadnesse be set out a sunnyng;
And suche of my seruauntes as I haue promotyd,
One faute or other in them shalbe notyd:
Eyther they wyll say he is to wyse,
Or elles he can nought bot whan he is at scole;
Proue his wytt, sayth he, at cardes or dyce,
And ye shall well fynde he is a very fole;
Twyshe, set hym a chare, or reche hym a stole,
To syt hym vpon, and rede Iacke a thrummis bybille,
For truly it were pyte that he sat ydle.
Or elles he can nought bot whan he is at scole;
Proue his wytt, sayth he, at cardes or dyce,
And ye shall well fynde he is a very fole;
Twyshe, set hym a chare, or reche hym a stole,
To syt hym vpon, and rede Iacke a thrummis bybille,
For truly it were pyte that he sat ydle.
The Quene of Fame to Dame Pallas.
To make repungnaunce agayne that ye haue sayde,
Of very dwte it may not well accorde,
But your benynge sufferaunce for my discharge I laid,
For that I wolde not with you fall at discorde;
But yet I beseche your grace that good recorde
May be brought forth, suche as can be founde,
With laureat tryumphe why Skelton sholde be crownde;
Of very dwte it may not well accorde,
But your benynge sufferaunce for my discharge I laid,
For that I wolde not with you fall at discorde;
But yet I beseche your grace that good recorde
May be brought forth, suche as can be founde,
With laureat tryumphe why Skelton sholde be crownde;
180
For elles it were to great a derogacyon
Vnto your palas, our noble courte of Fame,
That any man vnder supportacyon
Withoute deseruynge shulde haue the best game:
If he to the ample encrease of his name
Can lay any werkis that he hath compylyd,
I am contente that he be not exylide
Vnto your palas, our noble courte of Fame,
That any man vnder supportacyon
Withoute deseruynge shulde haue the best game:
If he to the ample encrease of his name
Can lay any werkis that he hath compylyd,
I am contente that he be not exylide
Frome the laureat senate by force of proscripcyon;
Or elles, ye know well, I can do no lesse
But I must bannysshe hym frome my iurydiccyon,
As he that aquentyth hym with ydilnes;
But if that he purpose to make a redresse,
What he hath done, let it be brought to syght;
Graunt my petycyon, I aske you but ryght.
Or elles, ye know well, I can do no lesse
But I must bannysshe hym frome my iurydiccyon,
As he that aquentyth hym with ydilnes;
But if that he purpose to make a redresse,
What he hath done, let it be brought to syght;
Graunt my petycyon, I aske you but ryght.
Dame Pallas to the Quene of Fame.
To your request we be well condiscendid:
Call forthe, let se where is your clarionar,
To blowe a blaste with his long breth extendid;
Eolus, your trumpet, that knowne is so farre,
That bararag blowyth in euery mercyall warre,
Let hym blowe now, that we may take a vewe
What poetis we haue at our retenewe;
Call forthe, let se where is your clarionar,
To blowe a blaste with his long breth extendid;
Eolus, your trumpet, that knowne is so farre,
That bararag blowyth in euery mercyall warre,
Let hym blowe now, that we may take a vewe
What poetis we haue at our retenewe;
To se if Skelton wyll put hymselfe in prease
Amonge the thickeste of all the hole rowte;
Make noyse enoughe, for claterars loue no peas;
Let se, my syster, now spede you, go aboute;
Anone, I sey, this trumpet were founde out,
And for no man hardely let hym spare
To blowe bararag tyll bothe his eyne stare.
Amonge the thickeste of all the hole rowte;
181
Let se, my syster, now spede you, go aboute;
Anone, I sey, this trumpet were founde out,
And for no man hardely let hym spare
To blowe bararag tyll bothe his eyne stare.
Skelton Poeta.
Forthwith there rose amonge the thronge
A wonderfull noyse, and on euery syde
They presid in faste; some thought they were to longe;
Sume were to hasty, and wold no man byde;
Some whispred, some rownyd, some spake, and some cryde,
With heuynge and shouynge, haue in and haue oute;
Some ranne the nexte way, sume ranne abowte.
A wonderfull noyse, and on euery syde
They presid in faste; some thought they were to longe;
Sume were to hasty, and wold no man byde;
Some whispred, some rownyd, some spake, and some cryde,
With heuynge and shouynge, haue in and haue oute;
Some ranne the nexte way, sume ranne abowte.
There was suyng to the Quene of Fame;
He plucked hym backe, and he went afore;
Nay, holde thy tunge, quod another, let me haue the name;
Make rowme, sayd another, ye prese all to sore;
Sume sayd, Holde thy peas, thou getest here no more;
A thowsande thowsande I sawe on a plumpe:
With that I harde the noyse of a trumpe,
He plucked hym backe, and he went afore;
Nay, holde thy tunge, quod another, let me haue the name;
Make rowme, sayd another, ye prese all to sore;
Sume sayd, Holde thy peas, thou getest here no more;
A thowsande thowsande I sawe on a plumpe:
With that I harde the noyse of a trumpe,
That longe tyme blewe a full timorous blaste,
Lyke to the boryall wyndes whan they blowe,
That towres and townes and trees downe caste,
Droue clowdes together lyke dryftis of snowe;
The dredefull dinne droue all the rowte on a rowe;
Some tremblid, some girnid, some gaspid, some gasid,
As people halfe peuysshe, or men that were masyd.
Lyke to the boryall wyndes whan they blowe,
182
Droue clowdes together lyke dryftis of snowe;
The dredefull dinne droue all the rowte on a rowe;
Some tremblid, some girnid, some gaspid, some gasid,
As people halfe peuysshe, or men that were masyd.
Anone all was whyste, as it were for the nonys,
And iche man stode gasyng and staryng vpon other:
With that there come in wonderly at ones
A murmur of mynstrels, that suche another
Had I neuer sene, some softer, some lowder;
Orpheus, the Traciane, herped meledyously
Weth Amphion, and other Musis of Archady:
And iche man stode gasyng and staryng vpon other:
With that there come in wonderly at ones
A murmur of mynstrels, that suche another
Had I neuer sene, some softer, some lowder;
Orpheus, the Traciane, herped meledyously
Weth Amphion, and other Musis of Archady:
Whos heuenly armony was so passynge sure,
So truely proporsionyd, and so well did gree,
So duly entunyd with euery mesure,
That in the forest was none so great a tre
But that he daunced for ioye of that gle;
The huge myghty okes them selfe dyd auaunce,
And lepe frome the hylles to lerne for to daunce:
So truely proporsionyd, and so well did gree,
So duly entunyd with euery mesure,
That in the forest was none so great a tre
But that he daunced for ioye of that gle;
The huge myghty okes them selfe dyd auaunce,
And lepe frome the hylles to lerne for to daunce:
In so moche the stumpe, whereto I me lente,
Sterte all at ones an hundrethe fote backe:
With that I sprange vp towarde the tent
Of noble Dame Pallas, wherof I spake;
Where I sawe come after, I wote, full lytell lake
Of a thousande poetes assembled togeder:
But Phebus was formest of all that cam theder;
Sterte all at ones an hundrethe fote backe:
With that I sprange vp towarde the tent
Of noble Dame Pallas, wherof I spake;
Where I sawe come after, I wote, full lytell lake
183
But Phebus was formest of all that cam theder;
Of laurell leuis a cronell on his hede,
With heris encrisped yalowe as the golde,
Lamentyng Daphnes, whome with the darte of lede
Cupyde hath stryken so that she ne wolde
Concente to Phebus to haue his herte in holde,
But, for to preserue her maidenhode clene,
Transformyd was she into the laurell grene.
With heris encrisped yalowe as the golde,
Lamentyng Daphnes, whome with the darte of lede
Cupyde hath stryken so that she ne wolde
Concente to Phebus to haue his herte in holde,
But, for to preserue her maidenhode clene,
Transformyd was she into the laurell grene.
Meddelyd with murnynge the moost parte of his muse,
O thoughtfull herte, was euermore his songe!
Daphnes, my derlynge, why do you me refuse?
Yet loke on me, that louyd you haue so longe,
Yet haue compassyon vpon my paynes stronge:
He sange also how, the tre as he did take
Betwene his armes, he felt her body quake.
O thoughtfull herte, was euermore his songe!
Daphnes, my derlynge, why do you me refuse?
Yet loke on me, that louyd you haue so longe,
Yet haue compassyon vpon my paynes stronge:
He sange also how, the tre as he did take
Betwene his armes, he felt her body quake.
Then he assurded into this exclamacyon
Vnto Diana, the goddes inmortall;
O mercyles madame, hard is your constellacyon,
So close to kepe your cloyster virgynall,
Enhardid adyment the sement of your wall!
Alas, what ayle you to be so ouerthwhart,
To bannysshe pyte out of a maydens harte?
Vnto Diana, the goddes inmortall;
O mercyles madame, hard is your constellacyon,
So close to kepe your cloyster virgynall,
Enhardid adyment the sement of your wall!
Alas, what ayle you to be so ouerthwhart,
To bannysshe pyte out of a maydens harte?
184
Why haue the goddes shewyd me this cruelte,
Sith I contryuyd first princyples medycynable?
I helpe all other of there infirmite,
But now to helpe myselfe I am not able;
That profyteth all other is nothynge profytable
Vnto me; alas, that herbe nor gresse
The feruent axes of loue can not represse!
Sith I contryuyd first princyples medycynable?
I helpe all other of there infirmite,
But now to helpe myselfe I am not able;
That profyteth all other is nothynge profytable
Vnto me; alas, that herbe nor gresse
The feruent axes of loue can not represse!
O fatall fortune, what haue I offendid?
Odious disdayne, why raist thou me on this facyon?
But sith I haue lost now that I entended,
And may not atteyne it by no medyacyon,
Yet, in remembraunce of Daphnes transformacyon,
All famous poetis ensuynge after me
Shall were a garlande of the laurell tre.
Odious disdayne, why raist thou me on this facyon?
But sith I haue lost now that I entended,
And may not atteyne it by no medyacyon,
Yet, in remembraunce of Daphnes transformacyon,
All famous poetis ensuynge after me
Shall were a garlande of the laurell tre.
This sayd, a grate nowmber folowyd by and by
Of poetis laureat of many dyuerse nacyons;
Parte of there names I thynke to specefye:
Fyrste, olde Quintiliane with his Declamacyons;
Theocritus with his bucolycall relacyons;
Esiodus, the iconomicar,
And Homerus, the fresshe historiar;
Of poetis laureat of many dyuerse nacyons;
Parte of there names I thynke to specefye:
Fyrste, olde Quintiliane with his Declamacyons;
Theocritus with his bucolycall relacyons;
Esiodus, the iconomicar,
And Homerus, the fresshe historiar;
Prynce of eloquence, Tullius Cicero,
With Salusty ageinst Lucius Catelyne,
That wrote the history of Iugurta also;
Ouyde, enshryned with the Musis nyne;
But blessed Bacchus, the pleasant god of wyne,
Of closters engrosyd with his ruddy flotis
These orators and poetes refresshed there throtis;
With Salusty ageinst Lucius Catelyne,
That wrote the history of Iugurta also;
185
But blessed Bacchus, the pleasant god of wyne,
Of closters engrosyd with his ruddy flotis
These orators and poetes refresshed there throtis;
Lucan, with Stacius in Achilliedos;
Percius presed forth with problemes diffuse;
Virgill the Mantuan, with his Eneidos;
Iuuenall satirray, that men makythe to muse;
But blessed Bacchus, the pleasant god of wyne,
Of clusters engrosed with his ruddy flotes
These orators and poetes refreshed their throtes;
Percius presed forth with problemes diffuse;
Virgill the Mantuan, with his Eneidos;
Iuuenall satirray, that men makythe to muse;
But blessed Bacchus, the pleasant god of wyne,
Of clusters engrosed with his ruddy flotes
These orators and poetes refreshed their throtes;
There Titus Lyuius hymselfe dyd auaunce
With decadis historious, whiche that he mengith
With maters that amount the Romayns in substaunce;
Enyus, that wrate of mercyall war at lengthe;
But blessyd Bachus, potenciall god of strengthe,
Of clusters engrosid with his ruddy flotis
Theis orators and poetis refresshed there throtis;
With decadis historious, whiche that he mengith
With maters that amount the Romayns in substaunce;
Enyus, that wrate of mercyall war at lengthe;
But blessyd Bachus, potenciall god of strengthe,
Of clusters engrosid with his ruddy flotis
Theis orators and poetis refresshed there throtis;
Aulus Gelius, that noble historiar;
Orace also with his new poetry;
Mayster Terence, the famous comicar,
With Plautus, that wrote full many a comody;
But blessyd Bachus was in there company,
Of clusters engrosyd with his ruddy flotis
Theis orators and poetis refresshed there throtis;
Orace also with his new poetry;
Mayster Terence, the famous comicar,
With Plautus, that wrote full many a comody;
But blessyd Bachus was in there company,
Of clusters engrosyd with his ruddy flotis
Theis orators and poetis refresshed there throtis;
186
Senek full soberly with his tragediis;
Boyce, recounfortyd with his philosophy;
And Maxymyane, with his madde ditiis,
How dotynge age wolde iape with yonge foly;
But blessyd Bachus most reuerent and holy,
Of clusters engrosid with his ruddy flotis
Theis orators and poetis refresshed there throtis;
Boyce, recounfortyd with his philosophy;
And Maxymyane, with his madde ditiis,
How dotynge age wolde iape with yonge foly;
But blessyd Bachus most reuerent and holy,
Of clusters engrosid with his ruddy flotis
Theis orators and poetis refresshed there throtis;
There came Johnn Bochas with his volumys grete;
Quintus Cursius, full craftely that wrate
Of Alexander; and Macrobius that did trete
Of Scipions dreme what was the treu probate;
But blessyd Bachus that neuer man forgate,
Of clusters engrosed with his ruddy flotis
These orators and poetis refresshid ther throtis;
Quintus Cursius, full craftely that wrate
Of Alexander; and Macrobius that did trete
Of Scipions dreme what was the treu probate;
But blessyd Bachus that neuer man forgate,
Of clusters engrosed with his ruddy flotis
These orators and poetis refresshid ther throtis;
Poggeus also, that famous Florentine,
Mustred ther amonge them with many a mad tale;
With a frere of Fraunce men call sir Gagwyne,
That frownyd on me full angerly and pale;
But blessyd Bachus, that bote is of all bale,
Of clusters engrosyd with his ruddy flotis
Theis orators and poetis refresshid there throtis;
Mustred ther amonge them with many a mad tale;
With a frere of Fraunce men call sir Gagwyne,
That frownyd on me full angerly and pale;
But blessyd Bachus, that bote is of all bale,
Of clusters engrosyd with his ruddy flotis
Theis orators and poetis refresshid there throtis;
Plutarke and Petrarke, two famous clarkis;
Lucilius and Valerius Maximus by name;
With Vincencius in Speculo, that wrote noble warkis;
Propercius and Pisandros, poetis of noble fame;
But blissed Bachus, that mastris oft doth frame,
Of clusters engrosed with his ruddy flotis
Theis notable poetis refresshid there throtis.
Lucilius and Valerius Maximus by name;
With Vincencius in Speculo, that wrote noble warkis;
187
But blissed Bachus, that mastris oft doth frame,
Of clusters engrosed with his ruddy flotis
Theis notable poetis refresshid there throtis.
And as I thus sadly amonge them auysid,
I saw Gower, that first garnisshed our Englysshe rude,
And maister Chaucer, that nobly enterprysyd
How that our Englysshe myght fresshely be ennewed;
The monke of Bury then after them ensuyd,
Dane Johnn Lydgate: theis Englysshe poetis thre,
As I ymagenyd, repayrid vnto me,
I saw Gower, that first garnisshed our Englysshe rude,
And maister Chaucer, that nobly enterprysyd
How that our Englysshe myght fresshely be ennewed;
The monke of Bury then after them ensuyd,
Dane Johnn Lydgate: theis Englysshe poetis thre,
As I ymagenyd, repayrid vnto me,
Togeder in armes, as brethern, enbrasid;
There apparell farre passynge beyonde that I can tell;
With diamauntis and rubis there tabers were trasid,
None so ryche stones in Turkey to sell;
Thei wantid nothynge but the laurell;
And of there bounte they made me godely chere,
In maner and forme as ye shall after here.
There apparell farre passynge beyonde that I can tell;
With diamauntis and rubis there tabers were trasid,
None so ryche stones in Turkey to sell;
Thei wantid nothynge but the laurell;
And of there bounte they made me godely chere,
In maner and forme as ye shall after here.
Mayster Gower to Skelton.
Brother Skelton, your endeuorment
So haue ye done, that meretoryously
Ye haue deseruyd to haue an enplement
In our collage aboue the sterry sky,
Bycause that ye encrese and amplyfy
The brutid Britons of Brutus Albion,
That welny was loste when that we were gone.
So haue ye done, that meretoryously
Ye haue deseruyd to haue an enplement
188
Bycause that ye encrese and amplyfy
The brutid Britons of Brutus Albion,
That welny was loste when that we were gone.
Poeta Skelton to Maister Gower.
Maister Gower, I haue nothyng deserued
To haue so laudabyle a commendacion:
To yow thre this honor shalbe reserued,
Arrectinge vnto your wyse examinacion
How all that I do is vnder refformation,
For only the substance of that I entend,
Is glad to please, and loth to offend.
To haue so laudabyle a commendacion:
To yow thre this honor shalbe reserued,
Arrectinge vnto your wyse examinacion
How all that I do is vnder refformation,
For only the substance of that I entend,
Is glad to please, and loth to offend.
Mayster Chaucer to Skelton.
Counterwayng your besy delygence
Of that we beganne in the supplement,
Enforcid ar we you to recompence,
Of all our hooll collage by the agreament,
That we shall brynge you personally present
Of noble Fame before the Quenes grace,
In whose court poynted is your place.
Of that we beganne in the supplement,
Enforcid ar we you to recompence,
Of all our hooll collage by the agreament,
That we shall brynge you personally present
Of noble Fame before the Quenes grace,
In whose court poynted is your place.
Poeta Skelton answeryth.
O noble Chaucer, whos pullisshyd eloquence
Oure Englysshe rude so fresshely hath set out,
That bounde ar we with all deu reuerence,
With all our strength that we can brynge about,
To owe to yow our seruyce, and more if we mowte!
But what sholde I say? ye wote what I entende,
Whiche glad am to please, and loth to offende.
Oure Englysshe rude so fresshely hath set out,
That bounde ar we with all deu reuerence,
With all our strength that we can brynge about,
To owe to yow our seruyce, and more if we mowte!
189
Whiche glad am to please, and loth to offende.
Mayster Lydgate to Skelton.
So am I preuentid of my brethern tweyne
In rendrynge to you thankkis meritory,
That welny nothynge there doth remayne
Wherwith to geue you my regraciatory,
But that I poynt you to be prothonatory
Of Fames court, by all our holl assent
Auaunced by Pallas to laurell preferment.
In rendrynge to you thankkis meritory,
That welny nothynge there doth remayne
Wherwith to geue you my regraciatory,
But that I poynt you to be prothonatory
Of Fames court, by all our holl assent
Auaunced by Pallas to laurell preferment.
Poeta Skelton answeryth.
So haue ye me far passynge my meretis extollyd,
Mayster Lidgate, of your accustomable
Bownte, and so gloryously ye haue enrollyd
My name, I know well, beyonde that I am able,
That but if my warkes therto be agreable,
I am elles rebukyd of that I intende,
Which glad am to please, and lothe to offende.
Mayster Lidgate, of your accustomable
Bownte, and so gloryously ye haue enrollyd
My name, I know well, beyonde that I am able,
That but if my warkes therto be agreable,
I am elles rebukyd of that I intende,
Which glad am to please, and lothe to offende.
So finally, when they had shewyd there deuyse,
Vnder the forme as I sayd tofore,
I made it straunge, and drew bak ones or twyse,
And euer they presed on me more and more,
Tyll at the last they forcyd me so sore,
That with them I went where they wolde me brynge,
Vnto the pauylyon where Pallas was syttyng.
Vnder the forme as I sayd tofore,
I made it straunge, and drew bak ones or twyse,
And euer they presed on me more and more,
Tyll at the last they forcyd me so sore,
That with them I went where they wolde me brynge,
Vnto the pauylyon where Pallas was syttyng.
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Dame Pallas commaundid that they shold me conuay
Into the ryche palace of the Quene of Fame;
There shal he here what she wyl to hym say
When he is callid to answere to his name:
A cry anone forthwith she made proclame,
All orators and poetis shulde thider go before,
With all the prese that there was, lesse and more.
Into the ryche palace of the Quene of Fame;
There shal he here what she wyl to hym say
When he is callid to answere to his name:
A cry anone forthwith she made proclame,
All orators and poetis shulde thider go before,
With all the prese that there was, lesse and more.
Forthwith, I say, thus wandrynge in my thought,
How it was, or elles within what howris,
I can not tell you, but that I was brought
Into a palace with turrettis and towris,
Engolerid goodly with hallis and bowris,
So curiously, so craftely, so connyngly wrowght,
That all the worlde, I trowe, and it were sought,
How it was, or elles within what howris,
I can not tell you, but that I was brought
Into a palace with turrettis and towris,
Engolerid goodly with hallis and bowris,
So curiously, so craftely, so connyngly wrowght,
That all the worlde, I trowe, and it were sought,
Suche an other there coude no man fynde;
Wherof partely I purpose to expounde,
Whyles it remanyth fresshe in my mynde.
With turkis and grossolitis enpauyd was the grounde;
Of birrall enbosid wer the pyllers rownde;
Of elephantis tethe were the palace gatis,
Enlosenged with many goodly platis
Wherof partely I purpose to expounde,
Whyles it remanyth fresshe in my mynde.
With turkis and grossolitis enpauyd was the grounde;
Of birrall enbosid wer the pyllers rownde;
Of elephantis tethe were the palace gatis,
Enlosenged with many goodly platis
Of golde, entachid with many a precyous stone;
An hundred steppis mountyng to the halle,
One of iasper, another of whalis bone;
Of dyamauntis pointed was the rokky wall;
The carpettis within and tappettis of pall;
The chambres hangid with clothes of arace;
Enuawtyd with rubies the vawte was of this place.
An hundred steppis mountyng to the halle,
One of iasper, another of whalis bone;
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The carpettis within and tappettis of pall;
The chambres hangid with clothes of arace;
Enuawtyd with rubies the vawte was of this place.
Thus passid we forth, walkynge vnto the pretory,
Where the postis wer enbulyoned with saphiris indy blew,
Englasid glittering with many a clere story;
Iacinctis and smaragdis out of the florthe they grew:
Vnto this place all poetis there did sue,
Wherin was set of Fame the noble Quene,
All other transcendynge, most rychely besene,
Where the postis wer enbulyoned with saphiris indy blew,
Englasid glittering with many a clere story;
Iacinctis and smaragdis out of the florthe they grew:
Vnto this place all poetis there did sue,
Wherin was set of Fame the noble Quene,
All other transcendynge, most rychely besene,
Vnder a gloryous cloth of astate,
Fret all with orient perlys of Garnate,
Encrownyd as empresse of all this worldly fate,
So ryally, so rychely, so passyngly ornate,
It was excedyng byyonde the commowne rate:
This hous enuyrowne was a myle about;
If xii were let in, xii hundreth stode without.
Fret all with orient perlys of Garnate,
Encrownyd as empresse of all this worldly fate,
So ryally, so rychely, so passyngly ornate,
It was excedyng byyonde the commowne rate:
This hous enuyrowne was a myle about;
If xii were let in, xii hundreth stode without.
Then to this lady and souerayne of this palace
Of purseuantis ther presid in with many a dyuerse tale;
Some were of Poyle, and sum were of Trace,
Of Lymerik, of Loreine, of Spayne, of Portyngale,
Frome Napuls, from Nauern, and from Rounceuall,
Some from Flaunders, sum fro the se coste,
Some from the mayne lande, some fro the Frensche hoste:
Of purseuantis ther presid in with many a dyuerse tale;
Some were of Poyle, and sum were of Trace,
Of Lymerik, of Loreine, of Spayne, of Portyngale,
192
Some from Flaunders, sum fro the se coste,
Some from the mayne lande, some fro the Frensche hoste:
With, How doth the north? what tydyngis in the sowth?
The west is wyndy, the est is metely wele;
It is harde to tell of euery mannes mouthe;
A slipper holde the taile is of an ele,
And he haltith often that hath a kyby hele;
Some shewid his salfecundight, some shewid his charter,
Some lokyd full smothely, and had a fals quarter;
The west is wyndy, the est is metely wele;
It is harde to tell of euery mannes mouthe;
A slipper holde the taile is of an ele,
And he haltith often that hath a kyby hele;
Some shewid his salfecundight, some shewid his charter,
Some lokyd full smothely, and had a fals quarter;
With, Sir, I pray you, a lytyll tyne stande backe,
And lette me come in to delyuer my lettre;
Another tolde how shyppes wente to wrak;
There were many wordes smaller and gretter,
With, I as good as thou, Ifayth and no better;
Some came to tell treuth, some came to lye,
Some came to flater, some came to spye:
And lette me come in to delyuer my lettre;
Another tolde how shyppes wente to wrak;
There were many wordes smaller and gretter,
With, I as good as thou, Ifayth and no better;
Some came to tell treuth, some came to lye,
Some came to flater, some came to spye:
There were, I say, of all maner of sortis,
Of Dertmouth, of Plummouth, of Portismouth also;
The burgeis and the ballyuis of the v portis,
With, Now let me come, and now let me go:
And all tyme wandred I thus to and fro,
Tyll at the last theis noble poetis thre
Vnto me sayd, Lo, syr, now ye may se
Of Dertmouth, of Plummouth, of Portismouth also;
The burgeis and the ballyuis of the v portis,
With, Now let me come, and now let me go:
And all tyme wandred I thus to and fro,
193
Vnto me sayd, Lo, syr, now ye may se
Of this high courte the dayly besines;
From you most we, but not longe to tary;
Lo, hither commyth a goodly maystres,
Occupacyon, Famys regestary,
Whiche shall be to you a sufferayne accessary,
With syngular pleasurs to dryue away the tyme,
And we shall se you ageyne or it be pryme.
From you most we, but not longe to tary;
Lo, hither commyth a goodly maystres,
Occupacyon, Famys regestary,
Whiche shall be to you a sufferayne accessary,
With syngular pleasurs to dryue away the tyme,
And we shall se you ageyne or it be pryme.
When they were past and wente forth on there way,
This gentilwoman, that callyd was by name
Occupacyon, in ryght goodly aray,
Came towarde me, and smylid halfe in game;
I sawe hir smyle, and I then did the same;
With that on me she kest her goodly loke;
Vnder her arme, me thought, she hade a boke.
This gentilwoman, that callyd was by name
Occupacyon, in ryght goodly aray,
Came towarde me, and smylid halfe in game;
I sawe hir smyle, and I then did the same;
With that on me she kest her goodly loke;
Vnder her arme, me thought, she hade a boke.
Occupacyoun to Skelton.
Lyke as the larke, vpon the somers day,
Whan Titan radiant burnisshith his bemis bryght,
Mountith on hy with her melodious lay,
Of the soneshyne engladid with the lyght,
So am I supprysed with pleasure and delyght
To se this howre now, that I may say,
How ye ar welcome to this court of aray.
Whan Titan radiant burnisshith his bemis bryght,
Mountith on hy with her melodious lay,
Of the soneshyne engladid with the lyght,
So am I supprysed with pleasure and delyght
To se this howre now, that I may say,
How ye ar welcome to this court of aray.
194
Of your aqueintaunce I was in tymes past,
Of studyous doctryne when at the port salu
Ye fyrste aryuyd; whan broken was your mast
Of worldly trust, then did I you rescu;
Your storme dryuen shyppe I repared new,
So well entakeled, what wynde that euer blowe,
No stormy tempeste your barge shall ouerthrow.
Of studyous doctryne when at the port salu
Ye fyrste aryuyd; whan broken was your mast
Of worldly trust, then did I you rescu;
Your storme dryuen shyppe I repared new,
So well entakeled, what wynde that euer blowe,
No stormy tempeste your barge shall ouerthrow.
Welcome to me as hertely as herte can thynke,
Welcome to me with all my hole desyre!
And for my sake spare neyther pen nor ynke;
Be well assurid I shall aquyte your hyre,
Your name recountynge beyonde the lande of Tyre,
From Sydony to the mount Olympyan,
Frome Babill towre to the hillis Caspian.
Welcome to me with all my hole desyre!
And for my sake spare neyther pen nor ynke;
Be well assurid I shall aquyte your hyre,
Your name recountynge beyonde the lande of Tyre,
From Sydony to the mount Olympyan,
Frome Babill towre to the hillis Caspian.
Skelton Poeta answeryth.
I thanked her moche of her most noble offer,
Affyaunsynge her myne hole assuraunce
For her pleasure to make a large profer,
Enpryntyng her wordes in my remembraunce,
To owe her my seruyce with true perseueraunce.
Come on with me, she sayd, let vs not stonde;
And with that worde she toke me by the honde.
Affyaunsynge her myne hole assuraunce
For her pleasure to make a large profer,
Enpryntyng her wordes in my remembraunce,
To owe her my seruyce with true perseueraunce.
Come on with me, she sayd, let vs not stonde;
And with that worde she toke me by the honde.
So passyd we forthe into the forsayd place,
With suche communycacyon as came to our mynde;
And then she sayd, Whylis we haue tyme and space
To walke where we lyst, let vs somwhat fynde
To pas the tyme with, but let vs wast no wynde,
For ydle iangelers haue but lytill braine;
Wordes be swordes, and hard to call ageine.
With suche communycacyon as came to our mynde;
And then she sayd, Whylis we haue tyme and space
195
To pas the tyme with, but let vs wast no wynde,
For ydle iangelers haue but lytill braine;
Wordes be swordes, and hard to call ageine.
Into a felde she brought me wyde and large,
Enwallyd aboute with the stony flint,
Strongly enbateld, moche costious of charge:
To walke on this walle she bed I sholde not stint;
Go softly, she sayd, the stones be full glint.
She went before, and bad me take good holde:
I sawe a thowsande yatis new and olde,
Enwallyd aboute with the stony flint,
Strongly enbateld, moche costious of charge:
To walke on this walle she bed I sholde not stint;
Go softly, she sayd, the stones be full glint.
She went before, and bad me take good holde:
I sawe a thowsande yatis new and olde,
Then questionyd I her what thos yatis ment;
Wherto she answeryd, and breuely me tolde,
How from the est vnto the occident,
And from the sowth vnto the north so colde,
Theis yatis, she sayd, which that ye beholde,
Be issuis and portis from all maner of nacyons;
And seryously she shewyd me ther denominacyons.
Wherto she answeryd, and breuely me tolde,
How from the est vnto the occident,
And from the sowth vnto the north so colde,
Theis yatis, she sayd, which that ye beholde,
Be issuis and portis from all maner of nacyons;
And seryously she shewyd me ther denominacyons.
They had wrytyng, sum Greke, sum Ebrew,
Some Romaine letters, as I vnderstode;
Some were olde wryten, sum were writen new,
Some carectis of Caldy, sum Frensshe was full good;
But one gate specyally, where as I stode,
Had grauin in it of calcydony a capytall A;
What yate call ye this? and she sayd, Anglia.
Some Romaine letters, as I vnderstode;
Some were olde wryten, sum were writen new,
Some carectis of Caldy, sum Frensshe was full good;
But one gate specyally, where as I stode,
Had grauin in it of calcydony a capytall A;
What yate call ye this? and she sayd, Anglia.
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The beldynge therof was passynge commendable;
Wheron stode a lybbard, crownyd with golde and stones,
Terrible of countenaunce and passynge formydable,
As quikly towchyd as it were flesshe and bones,
As gastly that glaris, as grimly that gronis,
As fersly frownynge as he had ben fyghtyng,
And with his forme foote he shoke forthe this wrytyng:
Wheron stode a lybbard, crownyd with golde and stones,
Terrible of countenaunce and passynge formydable,
As quikly towchyd as it were flesshe and bones,
As gastly that glaris, as grimly that gronis,
As fersly frownynge as he had ben fyghtyng,
And with his forme foote he shoke forthe this wrytyng:
Formidanda nimis Jovis ultima fulmina tollis:
Unguibus ire parat loca singula livida curvis
Quam modo per Phœbes nummos raptura Celæno;
Arma, lues, luctus, fel, vis, fraus, barbara tellus;
Mille modis erras odium tibi quærere Martis:
Spreto spineto cedat saliunca roseto.
Unguibus ire parat loca singula livida curvis
Quam modo per Phœbes nummos raptura Celæno;
Arma, lues, luctus, fel, vis, fraus, barbara tellus;
Mille modis erras odium tibi quærere Martis:
Spreto spineto cedat saliunca roseto.
Then I me lent, and loked ouer the wall:
Innumerable people presed to euery gate;
Shet were the gatis; thei might wel knock and cal,
And turne home ageyne, for they cam al to late.
I her demaunded of them and ther astate:
Forsothe, quod she, theys be haskardis and rebawdis,
Dysers, carders, tumblars with gambawdis,
Innumerable people presed to euery gate;
Shet were the gatis; thei might wel knock and cal,
And turne home ageyne, for they cam al to late.
I her demaunded of them and ther astate:
Forsothe, quod she, theys be haskardis and rebawdis,
Dysers, carders, tumblars with gambawdis,
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Furdrers of loue, with baudry aqueinted,
Brainles blenkardis that blow at the cole,
Fals forgers of mony, for kownnage atteintid,
Pope holy ypocrytis, as they were golde and hole,
Powle hatchettis, that prate wyll at euery ale pole,
Ryot, reueler, railer, brybery, theft,
With other condycyons that well myght be left:
Brainles blenkardis that blow at the cole,
Fals forgers of mony, for kownnage atteintid,
Pope holy ypocrytis, as they were golde and hole,
Powle hatchettis, that prate wyll at euery ale pole,
Ryot, reueler, railer, brybery, theft,
With other condycyons that well myght be left:
Sume fayne themselfe folys, and wolde be callyd wyse,
Sum medelynge spyes, by craft to grope thy mynde,
Sum dysdanous dawcokkis that all men dispyse,
Fals flaterers that fawne thé, and kurris of kynde
That speke fayre before thé and shrewdly behynde;
Hither they come crowdyng to get them a name,
But hailid they be homwarde with sorow and shame.
Sum medelynge spyes, by craft to grope thy mynde,
Sum dysdanous dawcokkis that all men dispyse,
Fals flaterers that fawne thé, and kurris of kynde
That speke fayre before thé and shrewdly behynde;
Hither they come crowdyng to get them a name,
But hailid they be homwarde with sorow and shame.
With that I herd gunnis russhe out at ones,
Bowns, bowns, bowns! that all they out cryde:
It made sum lympe legged and broisid there bones;
Sum were made peuysshe, porisshly, pynk iyde,
That euer more after by it they were aspyid;
And one ther was there, I wondred of his hap,
For a gun stone, I say, had all to-iaggid his cap,
Bowns, bowns, bowns! that all they out cryde:
It made sum lympe legged and broisid there bones;
Sum were made peuysshe, porisshly, pynk iyde,
That euer more after by it they were aspyid;
And one ther was there, I wondred of his hap,
For a gun stone, I say, had all to-iaggid his cap,
198
Raggid, and daggid, and cunnyngly cut;
The blaste of the brynston blew away his brayne;
Masid as a marche hare, he ran lyke a scut;
And, sir, amonge all me thought I saw twaine,
The one was a tumblar, that afterwarde againe
Of a dysour, a deuyl way, grew a ientilman,
Pers Prater, the secund, that quarillis beganne;
The blaste of the brynston blew away his brayne;
Masid as a marche hare, he ran lyke a scut;
And, sir, amonge all me thought I saw twaine,
The one was a tumblar, that afterwarde againe
Of a dysour, a deuyl way, grew a ientilman,
Pers Prater, the secund, that quarillis beganne;
With a pellit of peuisshenes they had suche a stroke,
That all the dayes of ther lyfe shall styck by ther rybbis:
Foo, foisty bawdias! sum smellid of the smoke;
I saw dyuers that were cariid away thens in cribbis,
Dasyng after dotrellis, lyke drunkardis that dribbis;
Theis titiuyllis with taumpinnis wer towchid and tappid;
Moche mischefe, I hyght you, amonge theem ther happid.
That all the dayes of ther lyfe shall styck by ther rybbis:
Foo, foisty bawdias! sum smellid of the smoke;
I saw dyuers that were cariid away thens in cribbis,
Dasyng after dotrellis, lyke drunkardis that dribbis;
Theis titiuyllis with taumpinnis wer towchid and tappid;
Moche mischefe, I hyght you, amonge theem ther happid.
Sometyme, as it semyth, when the mone light
By meanys of a grosely endarkyd clowde
Sodenly is eclipsid in the wynter night,
In lyke maner of wyse a myst did vs shrowde;
But wele may ye thynk I was no thyng prowde
Of that auenturis, whiche made me sore agast.
In derkenes thus dwelt we, tyll at the last
By meanys of a grosely endarkyd clowde
Sodenly is eclipsid in the wynter night,
In lyke maner of wyse a myst did vs shrowde;
But wele may ye thynk I was no thyng prowde
Of that auenturis, whiche made me sore agast.
In derkenes thus dwelt we, tyll at the last
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The clowdis gan to clere, the myst was rarifiid:
In an herber I saw, brought where I was,
There birdis on the brere sange on euery syde;
With alys ensandid about in compas,
The bankis enturfid with singular solas,
Enrailid with rosers, and vinis engrapid;
It was a new comfort of sorowis escapid.
In an herber I saw, brought where I was,
There birdis on the brere sange on euery syde;
With alys ensandid about in compas,
The bankis enturfid with singular solas,
Enrailid with rosers, and vinis engrapid;
It was a new comfort of sorowis escapid.
In the middis a coundight, that coryously was cast,
With pypes of golde engusshing out stremes;
Of cristall the clerenes theis waters far past,
Enswymmyng with rochis, barbellis, and bremis,
Whose skales ensilured again the son beames
Englisterd, that ioyous it was to beholde.
Then furthermore aboute me my syght I reuolde,
With pypes of golde engusshing out stremes;
Of cristall the clerenes theis waters far past,
Enswymmyng with rochis, barbellis, and bremis,
Whose skales ensilured again the son beames
Englisterd, that ioyous it was to beholde.
Then furthermore aboute me my syght I reuolde,
Where I saw growyng a goodly laurell tre,
Enuerdurid with leuis contynually grene;
Aboue in the top a byrde of Araby,
Men call a phenix; her wynges bytwene
She bet vp a fyre with the sparkis full kene
With braunches and bowghis of the swete olyue,
Whos flagraunt flower was chefe preseruatyue
Enuerdurid with leuis contynually grene;
Aboue in the top a byrde of Araby,
Men call a phenix; her wynges bytwene
She bet vp a fyre with the sparkis full kene
With braunches and bowghis of the swete olyue,
Whos flagraunt flower was chefe preseruatyue
Ageynst all infeccyons with cancour enflamyd,
Ageynst all baratows broisiours of olde,
It passid all bawmys that euer were namyd,
Or gummis of Saby so derely that be solde:
There blew in that gardynge a soft piplyng colde
Enbrethyng of Zepherus with his pleasant wynde;
All frutis and flowris grew there in there kynde.
Ageynst all baratows broisiours of olde,
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Or gummis of Saby so derely that be solde:
There blew in that gardynge a soft piplyng colde
Enbrethyng of Zepherus with his pleasant wynde;
All frutis and flowris grew there in there kynde.
Dryades there daunsid vpon that goodly soile,
With the nyne Muses, Pierides by name;
Phillis and Testalis, ther tressis with oyle
Were newly enbybid; and rownd about the same
Grene tre of laurell moche solacyous game
They made, with chapellettes and garlandes grene;
And formest of all dame Flora, the quene
With the nyne Muses, Pierides by name;
Phillis and Testalis, ther tressis with oyle
Were newly enbybid; and rownd about the same
Grene tre of laurell moche solacyous game
They made, with chapellettes and garlandes grene;
And formest of all dame Flora, the quene
Of somer, so formally she fotid the daunce;
There Cintheus sat twynklyng vpon his harpe stringis;
And Iopas his instrument did auaunce,
The poemis and storis auncient inbryngis
Of Athlas astrology, and many noble thyngis,
Of wandryng of the mone, the course of the sun,
Of men and of bestis, and whereof they begone,
There Cintheus sat twynklyng vpon his harpe stringis;
And Iopas his instrument did auaunce,
The poemis and storis auncient inbryngis
Of Athlas astrology, and many noble thyngis,
Of wandryng of the mone, the course of the sun,
Of men and of bestis, and whereof they begone,
What thynge occasionyd the showris of rayne,
Of fyre elementar in his supreme spere,
And of that pole artike whiche doth remayne
Behynde the taile of Vrsa so clere;
Of Pliades he prechid with ther drowsy chere,
Immoysturid with mislyng and ay droppyng dry,
And where the two Trions a man shold aspy,
Of fyre elementar in his supreme spere,
And of that pole artike whiche doth remayne
Behynde the taile of Vrsa so clere;
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Immoysturid with mislyng and ay droppyng dry,
And where the two Trions a man shold aspy,
And of the winter days that hy them so fast,
And of the wynter nyghtes that tary so longe,
And of the somer days so longe that doth last,
And of their shorte nyghtes; he browght in his songe
How wronge was no ryght, and ryght was no wronge:
There was counteryng of carollis in meter and verse
So many, that longe it were to reherse.
And of the wynter nyghtes that tary so longe,
And of the somer days so longe that doth last,
And of their shorte nyghtes; he browght in his songe
How wronge was no ryght, and ryght was no wronge:
There was counteryng of carollis in meter and verse
So many, that longe it were to reherse.
Occupacyon to Skelton.
How say ye? is this after your appetite?
May this contente you and your mirry mynde?
Here dwellith pleasure, with lust and delyte;
Contynuall comfort here ye may fynde,
Of welth and solace no thynge left behynde;
All thynge conuenable here is contryuyd,
Wherewith your spiritis may be reuyuid.
May this contente you and your mirry mynde?
Here dwellith pleasure, with lust and delyte;
Contynuall comfort here ye may fynde,
Of welth and solace no thynge left behynde;
All thynge conuenable here is contryuyd,
Wherewith your spiritis may be reuyuid.
Poeta Skelton answeryth.
Questionles no dowte of that ye say;
Jupiter hymselfe this lyfe myght endure;
This ioy excedith all worldly sport and play,
Paradyce this place is of syngular pleasure:
O wele were hym that herof myght be sure,
And here to inhabite and ay for to dwell!
But, goodly maystres, one thynge ye me tell.
Jupiter hymselfe this lyfe myght endure;
This ioy excedith all worldly sport and play,
Paradyce this place is of syngular pleasure:
O wele were hym that herof myght be sure,
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But, goodly maystres, one thynge ye me tell.
Occupacyon to Skelton.
Of your demawnd shew me the content,
What it is, and where vpon it standis;
And if there be in it any thyng ment,
Wherof the answere restyth in my handis,
It shall be losyd ful sone out of the bandis
Of scrupulus dout; wherfore your mynde discharge,
And of your wyll the plainnes shew at large.
What it is, and where vpon it standis;
And if there be in it any thyng ment,
Wherof the answere restyth in my handis,
It shall be losyd ful sone out of the bandis
Of scrupulus dout; wherfore your mynde discharge,
And of your wyll the plainnes shew at large.
Poeta Skelton answeryth.
I thanke you, goodly maystres, to me most benynge,
That of your bounte so well haue me assurid;
But my request is not so great a thynge,
That I ne force what though it be discurid;
I am not woundid but that I may be cured;
I am not ladyn of liddyrnes with lumpis,
As dasid doterdis that dreme in their dumpis.
That of your bounte so well haue me assurid;
But my request is not so great a thynge,
That I ne force what though it be discurid;
I am not woundid but that I may be cured;
I am not ladyn of liddyrnes with lumpis,
As dasid doterdis that dreme in their dumpis.
Occupacyon to Skelton.
Nowe what ye mene, I trow I coniect;
Gog gyue you good yere, ye make me to smyle;
Now, be your faith, is not this theffect
Of your questyon ye make all this whyle,
To vnderstande who dwellyth in yone pile,
And what blunderar is yonder that playth didil diddil?
He fyndith fals mesuris out of his fonde fiddill.
Gog gyue you good yere, ye make me to smyle;
Now, be your faith, is not this theffect
Of your questyon ye make all this whyle,
To vnderstande who dwellyth in yone pile,
203
He fyndith fals mesuris out of his fonde fiddill.
Interpolata, quæ industriosum postulat interpretem, satira in vatis adversarium.
Tressis agasonis species prior, altera Davi:Aucupium culicis, limis dum torquet ocellum,
Concipit, aligeras rapit, appetit, aspice, muscas!
Maia quæque fovet, fovet aut quæ Jupiter, aut quæ
Frigida Saturnus, Sol, Mars, Venus, algida Luna,
Si tibi contingat verbo aut committere scripto,
Quam sibi mox tacita sudant præcordia culpa!
Hinc ruit in flammas, stimulans hunc urget et illum,
Invocat ad rixas, vanos tamen excitat ignes,
Labra movens tacitus, rumpantur ut ilia Codro.
His name for to know if that ye lyst,
Enuyous Rancour truely he hight:
Beware of hym, I warne you; for and ye wist
How daungerous it were to stande in his lyght,
Ye wolde not dele with hym, thowgh that ye myght,
For by his deuellysshe drift and graceles prouision
An hole reame he is able to set at deuysion:
Enuyous Rancour truely he hight:
Beware of hym, I warne you; for and ye wist
204
Ye wolde not dele with hym, thowgh that ye myght,
For by his deuellysshe drift and graceles prouision
An hole reame he is able to set at deuysion:
For when he spekyth fayrest, then thynketh he moost yll;
Full gloryously can he glose, thy mynde for to fele;
He wyll set men a feightynge and syt hymselfe styll,
And smerke, lyke a smythy kur, at sperkes of steile;
He can neuer leue warke whylis it is wele;
To tell all his towchis it were to grete wonder;
The deuyll of hell and he be seldome asonder.
Full gloryously can he glose, thy mynde for to fele;
He wyll set men a feightynge and syt hymselfe styll,
And smerke, lyke a smythy kur, at sperkes of steile;
He can neuer leue warke whylis it is wele;
To tell all his towchis it were to grete wonder;
The deuyll of hell and he be seldome asonder.
Thus talkyng we went forth in at a postern gate;
Turnyng on the ryght hande, by a windyng stayre,
She brought me to a goodly chaumber of astate,
Where the noble Cowntes of Surrey in a chayre
Sat honorably, to whome did repaire
Of ladys a beue with all dew reuerence:
Syt downe, fayre ladys, and do your diligence!
Turnyng on the ryght hande, by a windyng stayre,
She brought me to a goodly chaumber of astate,
Where the noble Cowntes of Surrey in a chayre
Sat honorably, to whome did repaire
Of ladys a beue with all dew reuerence:
Syt downe, fayre ladys, and do your diligence!
Come forth, ientylwomen, I pray you, she sayd;
I haue contryuyd for you a goodly warke,
And who can worke beste now shall be asayde;
A cronell of lawrell with verduris light and darke
I haue deuysed for Skelton, my clerke;
For to his seruyce I haue suche regarde,
That of our bownte we wyll hym rewarde:
I haue contryuyd for you a goodly warke,
205
A cronell of lawrell with verduris light and darke
I haue deuysed for Skelton, my clerke;
For to his seruyce I haue suche regarde,
That of our bownte we wyll hym rewarde:
For of all ladyes he hath the library,
Ther names recountyng in the court of Fame;
Of all gentylwomen he hath the scruteny,
In Fames court reportynge the same;
For yet of women he neuer sayd shame,
But if they were counterfettes that women them call,
That list of there lewdnesse with hym for to brall.
Ther names recountyng in the court of Fame;
Of all gentylwomen he hath the scruteny,
In Fames court reportynge the same;
For yet of women he neuer sayd shame,
But if they were counterfettes that women them call,
That list of there lewdnesse with hym for to brall.
With that the tappettis and carpettis were layd,
Whereon theis ladys softly myght rest,
The saumpler to sow on, the lacis to enbraid;
To weue in the stoule sume were full preste;
With slaiis, with tauellis, with hedellis well drest,
The frame was browght forth with his weuyng pin:
God geue them good spede there warke to begin!
Whereon theis ladys softly myght rest,
The saumpler to sow on, the lacis to enbraid;
To weue in the stoule sume were full preste;
With slaiis, with tauellis, with hedellis well drest,
The frame was browght forth with his weuyng pin:
God geue them good spede there warke to begin!
Sume to enbrowder put them in prese,
Well gydyng ther glowtonn to kepe streit theyr sylk,
Sum pirlyng of goldde theyr worke to encrese
With fingers smale, and handis whyte as mylk;
With, Reche me that skane of tewly sylk;
And, Wynde me that botowme of such an hew,
Grene, rede, tawny, whyte, blak, purpill, and blew.
Well gydyng ther glowtonn to kepe streit theyr sylk,
Sum pirlyng of goldde theyr worke to encrese
206
With, Reche me that skane of tewly sylk;
And, Wynde me that botowme of such an hew,
Grene, rede, tawny, whyte, blak, purpill, and blew.
Of broken warkis wrought many a goodly thyng,
In castyng, in turnynge, in florisshyng of flowris,
With burris rowth and bottons surffillyng,
In nedill wark raysyng byrdis in bowris,
With vertu enbesid all tymes and howris;
And truly of theyr bownte thus were they bent
To worke me this chapelet by goode aduysemente.
In castyng, in turnynge, in florisshyng of flowris,
With burris rowth and bottons surffillyng,
In nedill wark raysyng byrdis in bowris,
With vertu enbesid all tymes and howris;
And truly of theyr bownte thus were they bent
To worke me this chapelet by goode aduysemente.
Occupacyon to Skelton.
Beholde and se in your aduertysement
How theis ladys and gentylwomen all
For your pleasure do there endeuourment,
And for your sake how fast to warke they fall:
To your remembraunce wherfore ye must call
In goodly wordes plesauntly comprysid,
That for them some goodly conseyt be deuysid,
How theis ladys and gentylwomen all
For your pleasure do there endeuourment,
And for your sake how fast to warke they fall:
To your remembraunce wherfore ye must call
In goodly wordes plesauntly comprysid,
That for them some goodly conseyt be deuysid,
With proper captacyons of beneuolence,
Ornatly pullysshid after your faculte,
Sith ye must nedis afforce it by pretence
Of your professyoun vnto vmanyte,
Commensyng your proces after there degre,
To iche of them rendryng thankis commendable,
With sentence fructuous and termes couenable.
Ornatly pullysshid after your faculte,
Sith ye must nedis afforce it by pretence
Of your professyoun vnto vmanyte,
Commensyng your proces after there degre,
To iche of them rendryng thankis commendable,
With sentence fructuous and termes couenable.
207
Poeta Skelton.
Auaunsynge my selfe sum thanke to deserue,
I me determynyd for to sharpe my pen,
Deuoutly arrectyng my prayer to Mynerue,
She to vowchesafe me to informe and ken;
To Mercury also hertely prayed I then,
Me to supporte, to helpe, and to assist,
To gyde and to gouerne my dredfull tremlyng fist.
I me determynyd for to sharpe my pen,
Deuoutly arrectyng my prayer to Mynerue,
She to vowchesafe me to informe and ken;
To Mercury also hertely prayed I then,
Me to supporte, to helpe, and to assist,
To gyde and to gouerne my dredfull tremlyng fist.
As a mariner that amasid is in a stormy rage,
Hardly bestad and driuen is to hope
Of that the tempestuows wynde wyll aswage,
In trust wherof comforte his hart doth grope,
From the anker he kuttyth the gabyll rope,
Committyth all to God, and lettyth his shyp ryde;
So I beseke Ihesu now to be my gyde.
Hardly bestad and driuen is to hope
Of that the tempestuows wynde wyll aswage,
In trust wherof comforte his hart doth grope,
From the anker he kuttyth the gabyll rope,
Committyth all to God, and lettyth his shyp ryde;
So I beseke Ihesu now to be my gyde.
To the ryght noble Countes of Surrey.
After all duly ordred obeisaunce,
In humble wyse as lowly as I may,
Vnto you, madame, I make reconusaunce,
My lyfe endurynge I shall both wryte and say,
Recount, reporte, reherse without delay
The passynge bounte of your noble astate,
Of honour and worshyp which hath the formar date:
In humble wyse as lowly as I may,
Vnto you, madame, I make reconusaunce,
My lyfe endurynge I shall both wryte and say,
Recount, reporte, reherse without delay
The passynge bounte of your noble astate,
Of honour and worshyp which hath the formar date:
Lyke to Argyua by iust resemblaunce,
The noble wyfe of Polimites kynge;
Prudent Rebecca, of whome remembraunce
The Byble makith; with whos chast lyuynge
Your noble demenour is counterwayng,
Whos passynge bounte, and ryght noble astate,
Of honour and worship it hath the formar date.
The noble wyfe of Polimites kynge;
208
The Byble makith; with whos chast lyuynge
Your noble demenour is counterwayng,
Whos passynge bounte, and ryght noble astate,
Of honour and worship it hath the formar date.
The noble Pamphila, quene of the Grekis londe,
Habillimentis royall founde out industriously;
Thamer also wrought with her goodly honde
Many diuisis passynge curyously;
Whome ye represent and exemplify,
Whos passynge bounte, and ryght noble astate,
Of honour and worship it hath the formar date.
Habillimentis royall founde out industriously;
Thamer also wrought with her goodly honde
Many diuisis passynge curyously;
Whome ye represent and exemplify,
Whos passynge bounte, and ryght noble astate,
Of honour and worship it hath the formar date.
As dame Thamarys, whiche toke the kyng of Perce,
Cirus by name, as wrytith the story;
Dame Agrippina also I may reherse
Of ientyll corage the perfight memory;
So shall your name endure perpetually,
Whos passyng bounte, and ryght noble astate,
Of honour and worship it hath the formar date.
Cirus by name, as wrytith the story;
Dame Agrippina also I may reherse
Of ientyll corage the perfight memory;
So shall your name endure perpetually,
Whos passyng bounte, and ryght noble astate,
Of honour and worship it hath the formar date.
To my lady Elisabeth Howarde.
To be your remembrauncer, madame, I am bounde,
Lyke to Aryna, maydenly of porte,
Of vertu and konnyng the well and perfight grounde;
Whome dame Nature, as wele I may reporte,
Hath fresshely enbewtid with many a goodly sorte
Of womanly feturis, whos florysshyng tender age
Is lusty to loke on, plesaunte, demure, and sage:
Lyke to Aryna, maydenly of porte,
Of vertu and konnyng the well and perfight grounde;
Whome dame Nature, as wele I may reporte,
209
Of womanly feturis, whos florysshyng tender age
Is lusty to loke on, plesaunte, demure, and sage:
Goodly Creisseid, fayrer than Polexene,
For to enuyue Pandarus appetite;
Troilus, I trowe, if that he had you sene,
In you he wolde haue set his hole delight:
Of all your bewte I suffyce not to wryght;
But, as I sayd, your florisshinge tender age
Is lusty to loke on, plesaunt, demure, and sage.
For to enuyue Pandarus appetite;
Troilus, I trowe, if that he had you sene,
In you he wolde haue set his hole delight:
Of all your bewte I suffyce not to wryght;
But, as I sayd, your florisshinge tender age
Is lusty to loke on, plesaunt, demure, and sage.
To my lady Mirriell Howarde.
Mi litell lady I may not leue behinde,
But do her seruyce nedis now I must;
Beninge, curteyse, of ientyll harte and mynde,
Whome fortune and fate playnly haue discust
Longe to enioy plesure, delyght, and lust:
The enbuddid blossoms of roses rede of hew
With lillis whyte your bewte doth renewe.
But do her seruyce nedis now I must;
Beninge, curteyse, of ientyll harte and mynde,
Whome fortune and fate playnly haue discust
Longe to enioy plesure, delyght, and lust:
The enbuddid blossoms of roses rede of hew
With lillis whyte your bewte doth renewe.
Compare you I may to Cidippes, the mayd,
That of Aconcyus whan she founde the byll
In her bosome, lorde, how she was afrayd!
The ruddy shamefastnes in her vysage fyll,
Whiche maner of abasshement became her not yll;
Right so, madame, the roses redde of hew
With lillys whyte your bewte dothe renewe.
That of Aconcyus whan she founde the byll
In her bosome, lorde, how she was afrayd!
The ruddy shamefastnes in her vysage fyll,
Whiche maner of abasshement became her not yll;
Right so, madame, the roses redde of hew
With lillys whyte your bewte dothe renewe.
210
To my lady Anne Dakers of the Sowth.
Zeuxes, that enpicturid fare Elene the quene,
You to deuyse his crafte were to seke;
And if Apelles your countenaunce had sene,
Of porturature which was the famous Greke,
He coude not deuyse the lest poynt of your cheke;
Princes of yowth, and flowre of goodly porte,
Vertu, conyng, solace, pleasure, comforte.
You to deuyse his crafte were to seke;
And if Apelles your countenaunce had sene,
Of porturature which was the famous Greke,
He coude not deuyse the lest poynt of your cheke;
Princes of yowth, and flowre of goodly porte,
Vertu, conyng, solace, pleasure, comforte.
Paregall in honour vnto Penolepe,
That for her trowth is in remembraunce had;
Fayre Diianira surmountynge in bewte;
Demure Diana womanly and sad,
Whos lusty lokis make heuy hartis glad;
Princes of youth, and flowre of goodly porte,
Vertu, connyng, solace, pleasure, comforte.
That for her trowth is in remembraunce had;
Fayre Diianira surmountynge in bewte;
Demure Diana womanly and sad,
Whos lusty lokis make heuy hartis glad;
Princes of youth, and flowre of goodly porte,
Vertu, connyng, solace, pleasure, comforte.
To mastres Margery Wentworthe.
With margerain ientyll,The flowre of goodlyhede,
Enbrowdred the mantill
Is of your maydenhede.
Plainly I can not glose;
Ye be, as I deuyne,
The praty primrose,
The goodly columbyne.
With margerain iantill,
The flowre of goodlyhede,
211
Is of yowre maydenhede.
Benynge, corteise, and meke,
With wordes well deuysid;
In you, who list to seke,
Be vertus well comprysid.
With margerain iantill,
The flowre of goodlyhede,
Enbrawderid the mantill
Is of yowr maydenhede.
To mastres Margaret Tylney.
I you assure,
Ful wel I know
My besy cure
To yow I owe;
Humbly and low
Commendynge me
To yowre bownte.
Ful wel I know
My besy cure
To yow I owe;
Humbly and low
Commendynge me
To yowre bownte.
As Machareus
Fayre Canace,
So I, iwus,
Endeuoure me
Your name to se
It be enrolde,
Writtin with golde.
Fayre Canace,
So I, iwus,
Endeuoure me
Your name to se
It be enrolde,
Writtin with golde.
Phedra ye may
Wele represent;
Intentyfe ay
And dylygent,
No tyme myspent;
Wherfore delyght
I haue to whryght
Wele represent;
Intentyfe ay
And dylygent,
212
Wherfore delyght
I haue to whryght
Of Margarite,
Perle orient,
Lede sterre of lyght,
Moche relucent;
Madame regent
I may you call
Of vertues all.
Perle orient,
Lede sterre of lyght,
Moche relucent;
Madame regent
I may you call
Of vertues all.
To maystres Iane Blenner-Haiset.
What though my penne wax faynt,
And hath smale lust to paint?
Yet shall there no restraynt
Cause me to cese,
Amonge this prese,
For to encrese
Yowre goodly name.
And hath smale lust to paint?
Yet shall there no restraynt
Cause me to cese,
Amonge this prese,
For to encrese
Yowre goodly name.
I wyll my selfe applye,
Trust me, ententifly,
Yow for to stellyfye;
And so obserue
That ye ne swarue
For to deserue
Immortall fame.
Trust me, ententifly,
Yow for to stellyfye;
And so obserue
That ye ne swarue
For to deserue
Immortall fame.
Sith mistres Iane Haiset
Smale flowres helpt to sett
In my goodly chapelet,
Therfore I render of her the memory
Vnto the legend of fare Laodomi.
Smale flowres helpt to sett
In my goodly chapelet,
Therfore I render of her the memory
Vnto the legend of fare Laodomi.
213
To maystres Isabell Pennell.
By saynt Mary, my lady,
Your mammy and your dady
Brought forth a godely babi!
Your mammy and your dady
Brought forth a godely babi!
My mayden Isabell,
Reflaring rosabell,
The flagrant camamell;
Reflaring rosabell,
The flagrant camamell;
The ruddy rosary,
The souerayne rosemary,
The praty strawbery;
The souerayne rosemary,
The praty strawbery;
The columbyne, the nepte,
The ieloffer well set,
The propre vyolet;
The ieloffer well set,
The propre vyolet;
Enuwyd your colowre
Is lyke the dasy flowre
After the Aprill showre;
Is lyke the dasy flowre
After the Aprill showre;
Sterre of the morow gray,
The blossom on the spray,
The fresshest flowre of May;
The blossom on the spray,
The fresshest flowre of May;
Maydenly demure,
Of womanhode the lure;
Wherfore I make you sure,
Of womanhode the lure;
Wherfore I make you sure,
It were an heuenly helth,
It were an endeles welth,
A lyfe for God hymselfe,
It were an endeles welth,
A lyfe for God hymselfe,
To here this nightingale,
Amonge the byrdes smale,
Warbelynge in the vale,
Amonge the byrdes smale,
Warbelynge in the vale,
Dug, dug,
Iug, iug,
Good yere and good luk,
With chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk!
Iug, iug,
214
With chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk!
To maystres Margaret Hussey.
Mirry Margaret,
As mydsomer flowre,
Ientill as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre;
As mydsomer flowre,
Ientill as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre;
With solace and gladnes,
Moche mirthe and no madnes,
All good and no badnes,
So ioyously,
So maydenly,
So womanly
Her demenyng
In euery thynge,
Far, far passynge
That I can endyght,
Or suffyce to wryght
Of mirry Margarete,
As mydsomer flowre,
Ientyll as a fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre;
Moche mirthe and no madnes,
All good and no badnes,
So ioyously,
So maydenly,
So womanly
Her demenyng
In euery thynge,
Far, far passynge
That I can endyght,
Or suffyce to wryght
Of mirry Margarete,
As mydsomer flowre,
Ientyll as a fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre;
As pacient and as styll,
And as full of good wyll,
As fayre Isaphill;
Colyaunder,
Swete pomaunder,
Good cassaunder;
Stedfast of thought,
Wele made, wele wrought;
Far may be sought
Erst that ye can fynde
So corteise, so kynde
As mirry Margarete,
This midsomer flowre,
Ientyll as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre.
And as full of good wyll,
As fayre Isaphill;
Colyaunder,
Swete pomaunder,
Good cassaunder;
Stedfast of thought,
215
Far may be sought
Erst that ye can fynde
So corteise, so kynde
As mirry Margarete,
This midsomer flowre,
Ientyll as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre.
To mastres Geretrude Statham.
Though ye wer hard hertyd,
And I with you thwartid
With wordes that smartid,
Yet nowe doutles ye geue me cause
To wryte of you this goodli clause,
Maistres Geretrude,
With womanhode endude,
With virtu well renwde.
And I with you thwartid
With wordes that smartid,
Yet nowe doutles ye geue me cause
To wryte of you this goodli clause,
Maistres Geretrude,
With womanhode endude,
With virtu well renwde.
I wyll that ye shall be
In all benyngnyte
Lyke to dame Pasiphe;
For nowe dowtles ye geue me cause
To wryte of yow this goodly clause,
Maistres Geretrude,
With womanhode endude,
With vertu well renude.
In all benyngnyte
Lyke to dame Pasiphe;
For nowe dowtles ye geue me cause
To wryte of yow this goodly clause,
Maistres Geretrude,
With womanhode endude,
With vertu well renude.
Partly by your councell,
Garnisshed with lawrell
Was my fresshe coronell;
Wherfore doutles ye geue me cause
To wryte of you this goodly clause,
Maistres Geretrude,
With womanhode endude,
With vertu well renude.
Garnisshed with lawrell
Was my fresshe coronell;
Wherfore doutles ye geue me cause
216
Maistres Geretrude,
With womanhode endude,
With vertu well renude.
To maystres Isabell Knyght.
But if I sholde aquyte your kyndnes,
Els saye ye myght
That in me were grete blyndnes,
I for to be so myndles,
And cowde not wryght
Of Isabell Knyght.
Els saye ye myght
That in me were grete blyndnes,
I for to be so myndles,
And cowde not wryght
Of Isabell Knyght.
It is not my custome nor my gyse
To leue behynde
Her that is bothe womanly and wyse,
And specyally which glad was to deuyse
The menes to fynde
To please my mynde,
To leue behynde
Her that is bothe womanly and wyse,
And specyally which glad was to deuyse
The menes to fynde
To please my mynde,
In helpyng to warke my laurell grene
With sylke and golde:
Galathea, the made well besene,
Was neuer halfe so fayre, as I wene,
Whiche was extolde
A thowsande folde
With sylke and golde:
Galathea, the made well besene,
Was neuer halfe so fayre, as I wene,
Whiche was extolde
A thowsande folde
By Maro, the Mantuan prudent,
Who list to rede;
But, and I had leyser competent,
I coude shew you suche a presedent
In very dede
Howe ye excede.
Who list to rede;
But, and I had leyser competent,
I coude shew you suche a presedent
In very dede
Howe ye excede.
217
Occupacyon to Skelton.
Withdrawe your hande, the tyme passis fast;
Set on your hede this laurell whiche is wrought;
Here you not Eolus for you blowyth a blaste?
I dare wele saye that ye and I be sought:
Make no delay, for now ye must be brought
Before my ladys grace, the Quene of Fame,
Where ye must breuely answere to your name.
Set on your hede this laurell whiche is wrought;
Here you not Eolus for you blowyth a blaste?
I dare wele saye that ye and I be sought:
Make no delay, for now ye must be brought
Before my ladys grace, the Quene of Fame,
Where ye must breuely answere to your name.
Skelton Poeta.
Castyng my syght the chambre aboute,
To se how duly ich thyng in ordre was,
Towarde the dore, as we were comyng oute,
I sawe maister Newton sit with his compas,
His plummet, his pensell, his spectacles of glas,
Dyuysynge in pycture, by his industrious wit,
Of my laurell the proces euery whitte.
To se how duly ich thyng in ordre was,
Towarde the dore, as we were comyng oute,
I sawe maister Newton sit with his compas,
His plummet, his pensell, his spectacles of glas,
Dyuysynge in pycture, by his industrious wit,
Of my laurell the proces euery whitte.
Forthwith vpon this, as it were in a thought,
Gower, Chawcer, Lydgate, theis thre
Before remembred, me curteisly brought
Into that place where as they left me,
Where all the sayd poetis sat in there degre.
But when they sawe my lawrell rychely wrought,
All other besyde were counterfete they thought
Gower, Chawcer, Lydgate, theis thre
Before remembred, me curteisly brought
Into that place where as they left me,
Where all the sayd poetis sat in there degre.
But when they sawe my lawrell rychely wrought,
All other besyde were counterfete they thought
In comparyson of that whiche I ware:
Sume praysed the perle, some the stones bryght;
Wele was hym that therevpon myght stare;
Of this warke they had so great delyght,
The silke, the golde, the flowris fresshe to syght,
They seyd my lawrell was the goodlyest
That euer they saw, and wrought it was the best.
Sume praysed the perle, some the stones bryght;
218
Of this warke they had so great delyght,
The silke, the golde, the flowris fresshe to syght,
They seyd my lawrell was the goodlyest
That euer they saw, and wrought it was the best.
In her astate there sat the noble Quene
Of Fame: perceyuynge how that I was cum,
She wonderyd me thought at my laurell grene;
She loked hawtly, and gaue on me a glum:
Thhere was amonge them no worde then but mum,
For eche man herkynde what she wolde to me say;
Wherof in substaunce I brought this away.
Of Fame: perceyuynge how that I was cum,
She wonderyd me thought at my laurell grene;
She loked hawtly, and gaue on me a glum:
Thhere was amonge them no worde then but mum,
For eche man herkynde what she wolde to me say;
Wherof in substaunce I brought this away.
The Quene of Fame to Skelton.
My frende, sith ye ar before vs here present
To answere vnto this noble audyence,
Of that shalbe resonde you ye must be content;
And for as moche as, by the hy pretence
That ye haue now thorow preemynence
Of laureat triumphe, your place is here reseruyd,
We wyll vnderstande how ye haue it deseruyd.
To answere vnto this noble audyence,
Of that shalbe resonde you ye must be content;
And for as moche as, by the hy pretence
That ye haue now thorow preemynence
Of laureat triumphe, your place is here reseruyd,
We wyll vnderstande how ye haue it deseruyd.
Skelton Poeta to the Quene of Fame.
Ryght high and myghty princes of astate,
In famous glory all other transcendyng,
Of your bounte the accustomable rate
Hath bene full often and yet is entendyng
To all that to reason is condiscendyng,
But if hastyue credence by mayntenance of myght
Fortune to stande betwene you and the lyght:
In famous glory all other transcendyng,
Of your bounte the accustomable rate
219
To all that to reason is condiscendyng,
But if hastyue credence by mayntenance of myght
Fortune to stande betwene you and the lyght:
But suche euydence I thynke for to enduce,
And so largely to lay for myne indempnite,
That I trust to make myne excuse
Of what charge soeuer ye lay ageinst me;
For of my bokis parte ye shall se,
Whiche in your recordes, I knowe well, be enrolde,
And so Occupacyon, your regester, me tolde.
And so largely to lay for myne indempnite,
That I trust to make myne excuse
Of what charge soeuer ye lay ageinst me;
For of my bokis parte ye shall se,
Whiche in your recordes, I knowe well, be enrolde,
And so Occupacyon, your regester, me tolde.
Forthwith she commaundid I shulde take my place;
Caliope poynted me where I shulde sit:
With that, Occupacioun presid in a pace;
Be mirry, she sayd, be not aferde a whit,
Your discharge here vnder myne arme is it.
So then commaundid she was vpon this
To shew her boke; and she sayd, Here it is.
Caliope poynted me where I shulde sit:
With that, Occupacioun presid in a pace;
Be mirry, she sayd, be not aferde a whit,
Your discharge here vnder myne arme is it.
So then commaundid she was vpon this
To shew her boke; and she sayd, Here it is.
The Quene of Fame to Occupacioun.
Yowre boke of remembrauns we will now that ye rede;
If ony recordis in noumbyr can be founde,
What Skelton hath compilid and wryton in dede
Rehersyng by ordre, and what is the grownde,
Let se now for hym how ye can expounde;
For in owr courte, ye wote wele, his name can not ryse
But if he wryte oftenner than ones or twyse.
If ony recordis in noumbyr can be founde,
What Skelton hath compilid and wryton in dede
220
Let se now for hym how ye can expounde;
For in owr courte, ye wote wele, his name can not ryse
But if he wryte oftenner than ones or twyse.
Skelton Poeta.
With that of the boke losende were the claspis:
The margent was illumynid all with golden railles
And byse, enpicturid with gressoppes and waspis,
With butterfllyis and fresshe pecoke taylis,
Enflorid with flowris and slymy snaylis;
Enuyuid picturis well towchid and quikly;
It wolde haue made a man hole that had be ryght sekely,
The margent was illumynid all with golden railles
And byse, enpicturid with gressoppes and waspis,
With butterfllyis and fresshe pecoke taylis,
Enflorid with flowris and slymy snaylis;
Enuyuid picturis well towchid and quikly;
It wolde haue made a man hole that had be ryght sekely,
To beholde how it was garnysshyd and bounde,
Encouerde ouer with golde of tissew fyne;
The claspis and bullyons were worth a thousande pounde;
With balassis and charbuncles the borders did shyne;
With aurum musicum euery other lyne
Was wrytin: and so she did her spede,
Occupacyoun, inmediatly to rede.
Encouerde ouer with golde of tissew fyne;
The claspis and bullyons were worth a thousande pounde;
With balassis and charbuncles the borders did shyne;
With aurum musicum euery other lyne
Was wrytin: and so she did her spede,
Occupacyoun, inmediatly to rede.
221
Occupacyoun redith and expoundyth sum parte of Skeltons bokes and baladis with ditis of plesure, in as moche as it were to longe a proces to reherse all by name that he hath compylyd, &c.
Of your oratour and poete laureate
Of Englande, his workis here they begynne:
In primis the Boke of Honorous Astate;
Item the Boke how men shulde fle synne;
Item Royall Demenaunce worshyp to wynne;
Item the Boke to speke well or be styll;
Item to lerne you to dye when ye wyll;
Of Englande, his workis here they begynne:
In primis the Boke of Honorous Astate;
Item the Boke how men shulde fle synne;
Item Royall Demenaunce worshyp to wynne;
Item the Boke to speke well or be styll;
Item to lerne you to dye when ye wyll;
Of Vertu also the souerayne enterlude;
The Boke of the Rosiar; Prince Arturis Creacyoun;
The False Fayth that now goth, which dayly is renude;
Item his Diologgis of Ymagynacyoun;
Item Antomedon of Loues Meditacyoun;
Item New Gramer in Englysshe compylyd;
Item Bowche of Courte, where Drede was begyled;
The Boke of the Rosiar; Prince Arturis Creacyoun;
The False Fayth that now goth, which dayly is renude;
Item his Diologgis of Ymagynacyoun;
Item Antomedon of Loues Meditacyoun;
222
Item Bowche of Courte, where Drede was begyled;
His commedy, Achademios callyd by name;
Of Tullis Familiars the translacyoun;
Item Good Aduysement, that brainles doth blame;
The Recule ageinst Gaguyne of the Frenshe nacyoun;
Item the Popingay, that hath in commendacyoun
Ladyes and gentylwomen suche as deseruyd,
And suche as be counterfettis they be reseruyd;
Of Tullis Familiars the translacyoun;
Item Good Aduysement, that brainles doth blame;
The Recule ageinst Gaguyne of the Frenshe nacyoun;
Item the Popingay, that hath in commendacyoun
Ladyes and gentylwomen suche as deseruyd,
And suche as be counterfettis they be reseruyd;
And of Soueraynte a noble pamphelet;
And of Magnyfycence a notable mater,
How Cownterfet Cowntenaunce of the new get
With Crafty Conueyaunce dothe smater and flater,
And Cloked Collucyoun is brought in to clater
With Courtely Abusyoun; who pryntith it wele in mynde
Moche dowblenes of the worlde therin he may fynde;
And of Magnyfycence a notable mater,
How Cownterfet Cowntenaunce of the new get
With Crafty Conueyaunce dothe smater and flater,
And Cloked Collucyoun is brought in to clater
With Courtely Abusyoun; who pryntith it wele in mynde
Moche dowblenes of the worlde therin he may fynde;
223
Of manerly maistres Margery Mylke and Ale;
To her he wrote many maters of myrthe;
Yet, thoughe I say it, therby lyith a tale,
For Margery wynshed, and breke her hinder girth;
Lor, how she made moche of her gentyll birth!
With, Gingirly, go gingerly! her tayle was made of hay;
Go she neuer so gingirly, her honesty is gone away;
To her he wrote many maters of myrthe;
Yet, thoughe I say it, therby lyith a tale,
For Margery wynshed, and breke her hinder girth;
Lor, how she made moche of her gentyll birth!
With, Gingirly, go gingerly! her tayle was made of hay;
Go she neuer so gingirly, her honesty is gone away;
Harde to make ought of that is nakid nought;
This fustiane maistres and this giggisse gase,
Wonder is to wryte what wrenchis she wrowght,
To face out her foly with a midsomer mase;
With pitche she patchid her pitcher shuld not crase;
It may wele ryme, but shroudly it doth accorde,
To pyke out honesty of suche a potshorde:
This fustiane maistres and this giggisse gase,
Wonder is to wryte what wrenchis she wrowght,
To face out her foly with a midsomer mase;
With pitche she patchid her pitcher shuld not crase;
It may wele ryme, but shroudly it doth accorde,
To pyke out honesty of suche a potshorde:
Patet per versus.
Hinc puer hic natus; vir conjugis hinc spoliatusJure thori; est fœtus Deli de sanguine cretus;
Hinc magis extollo, quod erit puer alter Apollo;
Si quæris qualis? meretrix castissima talis;
Et relis, et ralis, et reliqualis.
224
Fynde no mo suche fro Wanflete to Walis.
Et reliqua omelia de diversis tractatibus.
Of my ladys grace at the contemplacyoun,
Owt of Frenshe into Englysshe prose,
Of Mannes Lyfe the Peregrynacioun,
He did translate, enterprete, and disclose;
The Tratyse of Triumphis of the Rede Rose,
Wherein many storis ar breuely contayned
That vnremembred longe tyme remayned;
Owt of Frenshe into Englysshe prose,
Of Mannes Lyfe the Peregrynacioun,
He did translate, enterprete, and disclose;
The Tratyse of Triumphis of the Rede Rose,
Wherein many storis ar breuely contayned
That vnremembred longe tyme remayned;
The Duke of Yorkis creauncer whan Skelton was,
Now Henry the viij. Kyng of Englonde,
A tratyse he deuysid and browght it to pas,
Callid Speculum Principis, to bere in his honde,
Therin to rede, and to vnderstande
All the demenour of princely astate,
To be our Kyng, of God preordinate;
Now Henry the viij. Kyng of Englonde,
A tratyse he deuysid and browght it to pas,
Callid Speculum Principis, to bere in his honde,
Therin to rede, and to vnderstande
All the demenour of princely astate,
To be our Kyng, of God preordinate;
Also the Tunnynge of Elinour Rummyng,
With Colyn Clowt, Iohnn Iue, with Ioforth Iack;
To make suche trifels it asketh sum konnyng,
In honest myrth parde requyreth no lack;
The whyte apperyth the better for the black,
And after conueyauns as the world goos,
It is no foly to vse the Walshemannys hoos;
With Colyn Clowt, Iohnn Iue, with Ioforth Iack;
225
In honest myrth parde requyreth no lack;
The whyte apperyth the better for the black,
And after conueyauns as the world goos,
It is no foly to vse the Walshemannys hoos;
The vmblis of venyson, the botell of wyne,
To fayre maistres Anne that shuld haue be sent,
He wrate therof many a praty lyne,
Where it became, and whether it went,
And how that it was wantonly spent;
The Balade also of the Mustarde Tarte
Suche problemis to paynt it longyth to his arte;
To fayre maistres Anne that shuld haue be sent,
He wrate therof many a praty lyne,
Where it became, and whether it went,
And how that it was wantonly spent;
The Balade also of the Mustarde Tarte
Suche problemis to paynt it longyth to his arte;
Of one Adame all a knaue, late dede and gone,—
Dormiat in pace, lyke a dormows!—
He wrate an Epitaph for his graue stone,
With wordes deuoute and sentence agerdows,
For he was euer ageynst Goddis hows,
All his delight was to braule and to barke
Ageynst holy chyrche, the preste, and the clarke;
Dormiat in pace, lyke a dormows!—
He wrate an Epitaph for his graue stone,
With wordes deuoute and sentence agerdows,
For he was euer ageynst Goddis hows,
All his delight was to braule and to barke
Ageynst holy chyrche, the preste, and the clarke;
Of Phillip Sparow the lamentable fate,
The dolefull desteny, and the carefull chaunce,
Dyuysed by Skelton after the funerall rate;
Yet sum there be therewith that take greuaunce,
And grudge therat with frownyng countenaunce;
But what of that? hard it is to please all men;
Who list amende it, let hym set to his penne;
The dolefull desteny, and the carefull chaunce,
226
Yet sum there be therewith that take greuaunce,
And grudge therat with frownyng countenaunce;
But what of that? hard it is to please all men;
Who list amende it, let hym set to his penne;
For the gyse now adays
Of sum iangelyng iays
Is to discommende
That they can not amende,
Though they wolde spende
All the wittis they haue.
Of sum iangelyng iays
Is to discommende
That they can not amende,
Though they wolde spende
All the wittis they haue.
What ayle them to depraue
Phillippe Sparows graue?
His Dirige, her Commendacioun
Can be no derogacyoun,
But myrth and consolacyoun,
Made by protestacyoun,
No man to myscontent
With Phillippis enteremente.
Phillippe Sparows graue?
His Dirige, her Commendacioun
Can be no derogacyoun,
But myrth and consolacyoun,
Made by protestacyoun,
No man to myscontent
With Phillippis enteremente.
Alas, that goodly mayd,
Why shulde she be afrayd?
Why shulde she take shame
That her goodly name,
Honorably reportid,
Shulde be set and sortyd,
To be matriculate
With ladyes of astate?
Why shulde she be afrayd?
Why shulde she take shame
That her goodly name,
Honorably reportid,
Shulde be set and sortyd,
To be matriculate
With ladyes of astate?
227
I coniure thé, Phillip Sparow,
By Hercules that hell did harow,
And with a venomows arow
Slew of the Epidawris
One of the Centawris,
Or Onocentauris,
Or Hippocentauris;
By whos myght and maine
An hart was slayne
With hornnis twayne
Of glitteryng golde;
And the apples of golde
Of Hesperides withholde,
And with a dragon kepte
That neuer more slepte,
By merciall strength
He wan at length;
And slew Gerione
With thre bodys in one;
With myghty corrage
Adauntid the rage
Of a lyon sauage;
Of Diomedis stabyll
He brought out a rabyll
Of coursers and rounsis
With lepes and bounsis;
And with myghty luggyng,
Wrastelynge and tuggyng,
He pluckid the bull
By the hornid scull,
And offred to Cornucopia;
And so forthe per cetera:
By Hercules that hell did harow,
And with a venomows arow
Slew of the Epidawris
One of the Centawris,
Or Onocentauris,
Or Hippocentauris;
By whos myght and maine
An hart was slayne
With hornnis twayne
Of glitteryng golde;
And the apples of golde
Of Hesperides withholde,
And with a dragon kepte
That neuer more slepte,
By merciall strength
He wan at length;
And slew Gerione
With thre bodys in one;
With myghty corrage
Adauntid the rage
Of a lyon sauage;
Of Diomedis stabyll
He brought out a rabyll
Of coursers and rounsis
With lepes and bounsis;
And with myghty luggyng,
Wrastelynge and tuggyng,
He pluckid the bull
By the hornid scull,
228
And so forthe per cetera:
Also by Hectates bowre
In Plutos gastly towre;
In Plutos gastly towre;
By the vgly Eumenides,
That neuer haue rest nor ease;
That neuer haue rest nor ease;
By the venemows serpent
That in hell is neuer brente,
In Lerna the Grekis fen
That was engendred then;
That in hell is neuer brente,
In Lerna the Grekis fen
That was engendred then;
By Chemeras flamys,
And all the dedely namys
Of infernall posty,
Where soulis fry and rosty;
And all the dedely namys
Of infernall posty,
Where soulis fry and rosty;
By the Stigiall flode,
And the stremes wode
Of Cochitos bottumles well;
And the stremes wode
Of Cochitos bottumles well;
By the feryman of hell,
Caron with his berde hore,
That rowyth with a rude ore,
And with his frownsid fortop
Gydith his bote with a prop:
Caron with his berde hore,
That rowyth with a rude ore,
And with his frownsid fortop
Gydith his bote with a prop:
I coniure Phillippe, and call,
In the name of Kyng Saull;
Primo Regum expres,
He bad the Phitones
To witche craft her to dres,
And by her abusiouns,
And damnable illusiouns
Of meruelous conclusiouns,
And by her supersticiouns
Of wonderfull condiciouns,
She raysed vp in that stede
Samuell that was dede;
But whether it were so,
He were idem in numero,
The selfe same Samuell,
How be it to Saull he did tell
The Philistinis shulde hym askry,
And the next day he shulde dye,
I wyll my selfe discharge
To letterd men at large:
In the name of Kyng Saull;
Primo Regum expres,
He bad the Phitones
To witche craft her to dres,
And by her abusiouns,
229
Of meruelous conclusiouns,
And by her supersticiouns
Of wonderfull condiciouns,
She raysed vp in that stede
Samuell that was dede;
But whether it were so,
He were idem in numero,
The selfe same Samuell,
How be it to Saull he did tell
The Philistinis shulde hym askry,
And the next day he shulde dye,
I wyll my selfe discharge
To letterd men at large:
But, Phillip, I coniure thé
Now by theys names thre,
Diana in the woddis grene,
Luna that so bryght doth shene,
Proserpina in hell,
That thou shortely tell,
And shew now vnto me
What the cause may be
Of this perplexyte!
Now by theys names thre,
Diana in the woddis grene,
Luna that so bryght doth shene,
Proserpina in hell,
That thou shortely tell,
And shew now vnto me
What the cause may be
Of this perplexyte!
Inferias, Philippe, tuas Scroupe pulchra Joanna
Instanter petiit: cur nostri carminis illam
Nunc pudet? est sero; minor est infamia vero.
Instanter petiit: cur nostri carminis illam
Nunc pudet? est sero; minor est infamia vero.
230
Then such that haue disdaynyd
And of this worke complaynyd,
I pray God they be paynyd
No wors than is contaynyd
In verses two or thre
That folowe as ye may se:
And of this worke complaynyd,
I pray God they be paynyd
No wors than is contaynyd
In verses two or thre
That folowe as ye may se:
Luride, cur, livor, volucris pia funera damnas?
Talia te rapiant rapiunt quæ fata volucrem!
Est tamen invidia mors tibi continua:
Talia te rapiant rapiunt quæ fata volucrem!
Est tamen invidia mors tibi continua:
The Gruntyng and the groynninge of the gronnyng swyne;
Also the Murnyng of the mapely rote;
How the grene couerlet sufferd grete pine,
When the flye net was set for to catche a cote,
Strake one with a birdbolt to the hart rote;
Also a deuoute Prayer to Moyses hornis,
Metrifyde merely, medelyd with scornis;
Also the Murnyng of the mapely rote;
How the grene couerlet sufferd grete pine,
When the flye net was set for to catche a cote,
Strake one with a birdbolt to the hart rote;
Also a deuoute Prayer to Moyses hornis,
Metrifyde merely, medelyd with scornis;
Of paiauntis that were played in Ioyows Garde;
He wrate of a muse throw a mud wall;
How a do cam trippyng in at the rere warde,
But, lorde, how the parker was wroth with all!
And of Castell Aungell the fenestrall,
Glittryng and glistryng and gloryously glasid,
It made sum mens eyn dasild and dasid;
He wrate of a muse throw a mud wall;
How a do cam trippyng in at the rere warde,
But, lorde, how the parker was wroth with all!
And of Castell Aungell the fenestrall,
231
It made sum mens eyn dasild and dasid;
The Repete of the recule of Rosamundis bowre,
Of his pleasaunt paine there and his glad distres
In plantynge and pluckynge a propre ieloffer flowre;
But how it was, sum were to recheles,
Not withstandynge it is remedeles;
What myght she say? what myght he do therto?
Though Iak sayd nay, yet Mok there loste her sho;
Of his pleasaunt paine there and his glad distres
In plantynge and pluckynge a propre ieloffer flowre;
But how it was, sum were to recheles,
Not withstandynge it is remedeles;
What myght she say? what myght he do therto?
Though Iak sayd nay, yet Mok there loste her sho;
How than lyke a man he wan the barbican
With a sawte of solace at the longe last;
The colour dedely, swarte, blo, and wan
Of Exione, her lambis dede and past,
The cheke and the nek but a shorte cast;
In fortunis fauour euer to endure,
No man lyuyng, he sayth, can be sure;
With a sawte of solace at the longe last;
The colour dedely, swarte, blo, and wan
Of Exione, her lambis dede and past,
The cheke and the nek but a shorte cast;
In fortunis fauour euer to endure,
No man lyuyng, he sayth, can be sure;
232
How dame Minerua first found the olyue tre, she red
And plantid it there where neuer before was none; vnshred
An hynde vnhurt hit by casuelte, not bled
Recouerd whan the forster was gone; and sped
The hertis of the herd began for to grone, and fled
The howndes began to yerne and to quest; and dred
With litell besynes standith moche rest; in bed
And plantid it there where neuer before was none; vnshred
An hynde vnhurt hit by casuelte, not bled
Recouerd whan the forster was gone; and sped
The hertis of the herd began for to grone, and fled
The howndes began to yerne and to quest; and dred
With litell besynes standith moche rest; in bed
His Epitomis of the myller and his ioly make;
How her ble was bryght as blossom on the spray,
A wanton wenche and wele coude bake a cake;
The myllar was loth to be out of the way,
But yet for all that, be as be may,
Whether he rode to Swaffhamm or to Some,
The millar durst not leue his wyfe at home;
How her ble was bryght as blossom on the spray,
A wanton wenche and wele coude bake a cake;
The myllar was loth to be out of the way,
But yet for all that, be as be may,
Whether he rode to Swaffhamm or to Some,
The millar durst not leue his wyfe at home;
233
With, Wofully arayd, and Shamefully betrayd,
Of his makyng deuoute medytacyons;
Vexilla regis he deuysid to be displayd;
With Sacris solemniis, and other contemplacyouns,
That in them comprisid consyderacyons;
Thus passyth he the tyme both nyght and day,
Sumtyme with sadnes, sumtyme with play;
Of his makyng deuoute medytacyons;
Vexilla regis he deuysid to be displayd;
With Sacris solemniis, and other contemplacyouns,
That in them comprisid consyderacyons;
Thus passyth he the tyme both nyght and day,
Sumtyme with sadnes, sumtyme with play;
Though Galiene and Dioscorides,
With Ipocras, and mayster Auycen,
By there phesik doth many a man ease,
And though Albumasar can thé enforme and ken
What constellacions ar good or bad for men,
Yet whan the rayne rayneth and the gose wynkith,
Lytill wotith the goslyng what the gose thynkith;
With Ipocras, and mayster Auycen,
By there phesik doth many a man ease,
And though Albumasar can thé enforme and ken
What constellacions ar good or bad for men,
Yet whan the rayne rayneth and the gose wynkith,
Lytill wotith the goslyng what the gose thynkith;
He is not wyse ageyne the streme that stryuith;
Dun is in the myre, dame, reche me my spur;
Nedes must he rin that the deuyll dryuith;
When the stede is stolyn, spar the stable dur;
A ientyll hownde shulde neuer play the kur;
It is sone aspyed where the thorne prikkith;
And wele wotith the cat whos berde she likkith;
Dun is in the myre, dame, reche me my spur;
234
When the stede is stolyn, spar the stable dur;
A ientyll hownde shulde neuer play the kur;
It is sone aspyed where the thorne prikkith;
And wele wotith the cat whos berde she likkith;
With Marione clarione, sol, lucerne,
Graund juir, of this Frenshe prouerbe olde,
How men were wonte for to discerne
By candelmes day what wedder shuld holde;
But Marione clarione was caught with a colde colde, anglice a cokwolde,
And all ouercast with cloudis vnkynde,
This goodly flowre with stormis was vntwynde;
Graund juir, of this Frenshe prouerbe olde,
How men were wonte for to discerne
By candelmes day what wedder shuld holde;
But Marione clarione was caught with a colde colde, anglice a cokwolde,
And all ouercast with cloudis vnkynde,
This goodly flowre with stormis was vntwynde;
This ieloffer ientyll, this rose, this lylly flowre,
This primerose pereles, this propre vyolet,
This columbyne clere and fresshest of coloure,
This delycate dasy, this strawbery pretely set,
With frowarde frostis, alas, was all to-fret!
But who may haue a more vngracyous lyfe
Than a chyldis birde and a knauis wyfe?
This primerose pereles, this propre vyolet,
This columbyne clere and fresshest of coloure,
This delycate dasy, this strawbery pretely set,
With frowarde frostis, alas, was all to-fret!
But who may haue a more vngracyous lyfe
Than a chyldis birde and a knauis wyfe?
Thynke what ye wyll
Of this wanton byll;
By Mary Gipcy,
Quod scripsi, scripsi:
Uxor tua, sicut vitis,
Habetis in custodiam,
Custodite sicut scitis,
Secundum Lucam, &c.
Of this wanton byll;
235
Quod scripsi, scripsi:
Uxor tua, sicut vitis,
Habetis in custodiam,
Custodite sicut scitis,
Secundum Lucam, &c.
Of the Bonehoms of Ashrige besyde Barkamstede,
That goodly place to Skelton moost kynde,
Where the sank royall is, Crystes blode so rede,
Wherevpon he metrefyde after his mynde;
A pleasaunter place than Ashrige is, harde were to fynde,
As Skelton rehersith, with wordes few and playne,
In his distichon made on verses twaine;
Fraxinus in clivo frondetque viret sine rivo,
Non est sub divo similis sine flumine vivo;
That goodly place to Skelton moost kynde,
Where the sank royall is, Crystes blode so rede,
Wherevpon he metrefyde after his mynde;
A pleasaunter place than Ashrige is, harde were to fynde,
As Skelton rehersith, with wordes few and playne,
In his distichon made on verses twaine;
Fraxinus in clivo frondetque viret sine rivo,
Non est sub divo similis sine flumine vivo;
The Nacyoun of Folys he left not behynde;
Item Apollo that whirllid vp his chare,
That made sum to snurre and snuf in the wynde;
It made them to skip, to stampe, and to stare,
Whiche, if they be happy, haue cause to beware
In ryming and raylyng with hym for to mell,
For drede that he lerne them there A, B, C, to spell.
Item Apollo that whirllid vp his chare,
That made sum to snurre and snuf in the wynde;
It made them to skip, to stampe, and to stare,
Whiche, if they be happy, haue cause to beware
In ryming and raylyng with hym for to mell,
For drede that he lerne them there A, B, C, to spell.
236
Poeta Skelton.
With that I stode vp, halfe sodenly afrayd;
Suppleyng to Fame, I besought her grace,
And that it wolde please her, full tenderly I prayd,
Owt of her bokis Apollo to rase.
Nay, sir, she sayd, what so in this place
Of our noble courte is ones spoken owte,
It must nedes after rin all the worlde aboute.
Suppleyng to Fame, I besought her grace,
And that it wolde please her, full tenderly I prayd,
Owt of her bokis Apollo to rase.
Nay, sir, she sayd, what so in this place
Of our noble courte is ones spoken owte,
It must nedes after rin all the worlde aboute.
God wote, theis wordes made me full sad;
And when that I sawe it wolde no better be,
But that my peticyon wolde not be had,
What shulde I do but take it in gre?
For, by Juppiter and his high mageste,
I did what I cowde to scrape out the scrollis,
Apollo to rase out of her ragman rollis.
And when that I sawe it wolde no better be,
But that my peticyon wolde not be had,
What shulde I do but take it in gre?
For, by Juppiter and his high mageste,
I did what I cowde to scrape out the scrollis,
Apollo to rase out of her ragman rollis.
Now hereof it erkith me lenger to wryte;
To Occupacyon I wyll agayne resorte,
Whiche redde on still, as it cam to her syght,
Rendrynge my deuisis I made in disporte
Of the Mayden of Kent callid Counforte,
Of Louers testamentis and of there wanton wyllis,
And how Iollas louyd goodly Phillis;
To Occupacyon I wyll agayne resorte,
Whiche redde on still, as it cam to her syght,
Rendrynge my deuisis I made in disporte
Of the Mayden of Kent callid Counforte,
Of Louers testamentis and of there wanton wyllis,
And how Iollas louyd goodly Phillis;
237
Diodorus Siculus of my translacyon
Out of fresshe Latine into owre Englysshe playne,
Recountyng commoditis of many a straunge nacyon;
Who redyth it ones wolde rede it agayne;
Sex volumis engrosid together it doth containe:
But when of the laurell she made rehersall,
All orators and poetis, with other grete and smale,
Out of fresshe Latine into owre Englysshe playne,
Recountyng commoditis of many a straunge nacyon;
Who redyth it ones wolde rede it agayne;
Sex volumis engrosid together it doth containe:
But when of the laurell she made rehersall,
All orators and poetis, with other grete and smale,
A thowsande thowsande, I trow, to my dome,
Triumpha, triumpha! they cryid all aboute;
Of trumpettis and clariouns the noyse went to Rome;
The starry heuyn, me thought, shoke with the showte;
The grownde gronid and tremblid, the noyse was so stowte:
The Quene of Fame commaundid shett fast the boke;
And therwith sodenly out of my dreme I woke.
Triumpha, triumpha! they cryid all aboute;
Of trumpettis and clariouns the noyse went to Rome;
The starry heuyn, me thought, shoke with the showte;
The grownde gronid and tremblid, the noyse was so stowte:
The Quene of Fame commaundid shett fast the boke;
And therwith sodenly out of my dreme I woke.
238
My mynde of the grete din was somdele amasid,
I wypid myne eyne for to make them clere;
Then to the heuyn sperycall vpwarde I gasid,
Where I saw Ianus, with his double chere,
Makynge his almanak for the new yere;
He turnyd his tirikkis, his voluell ran fast:
Good luk this new yere! the olde yere is past.
I wypid myne eyne for to make them clere;
Then to the heuyn sperycall vpwarde I gasid,
Where I saw Ianus, with his double chere,
Makynge his almanak for the new yere;
He turnyd his tirikkis, his voluell ran fast:
Good luk this new yere! the olde yere is past.
Mens tibi sit consulta, petis? sic consule menti;
Æmula sit Jani, retro speculetur et ante.
Æmula sit Jani, retro speculetur et ante.
Skeltonis alloquitur librum suum.
Ite, Britannorum lux O radiosa, BritannumCarmina nostra pium vestrum celebrate Catullum!
Dicite, Skeltonis vester Adonis erat;
Dicite, Skeltonis vester Homerus erat.
Barbara cum Latio pariter jam currite versu;
Et licet est verbo pars maxima texta Britanno,
Non magis incompta nostra Thalia patet,
Est magis inculta nec mea Calliope.
Nec vos pœniteat livoris tela subire,
Nec vos pœniteat rabiem tolerare caninam,
Nam Maro dissimiles non tulit ille minas,
Immunis nec enim Musa Nasonis erat.
Lenuoy.
Go, litill quaire,
Demene you faire;
Take no dispare,
Though I you wrate
After this rate
In Englysshe letter;
So moche the better
Welcome shall ye
To sum men be:
For Latin warkis
Be good for clerkis;
Yet now and then
Sum Latin men
May happely loke
Vpon your boke,
And so procede
In you to rede,
That so indede
Your fame may sprede
In length and brede.
But then I drede
Ye shall haue nede
You for to spede
To harnnes bryght,
By force of myght,
Ageyne enuy
And obloquy:
And wote ye why?
Not for to fyght
Ageyne dispyght,
Nor to derayne
Batayle agayne
Scornfull disdayne,
Nor for to chyde,
Nor for to hyde
You cowardly;
But curteisly
That I haue pende
For to deffend,
Vnder the banner
Of all good manner,
Vnder proteccyon
Of sad correccyon,
With toleracyon
And supportacyon
Of reformacyon,
If they can spy
Circumspectly
Any worde defacid
That myght be rasid,
Els ye shall pray
Them that ye may
Contynew still
With there good wyll.
Demene you faire;
239
Though I you wrate
After this rate
In Englysshe letter;
So moche the better
Welcome shall ye
To sum men be:
For Latin warkis
Be good for clerkis;
Yet now and then
Sum Latin men
May happely loke
Vpon your boke,
And so procede
In you to rede,
That so indede
Your fame may sprede
In length and brede.
But then I drede
Ye shall haue nede
You for to spede
To harnnes bryght,
By force of myght,
Ageyne enuy
And obloquy:
And wote ye why?
Not for to fyght
Ageyne dispyght,
Nor to derayne
Batayle agayne
240
Nor for to chyde,
Nor for to hyde
You cowardly;
But curteisly
That I haue pende
For to deffend,
Vnder the banner
Of all good manner,
Vnder proteccyon
Of sad correccyon,
With toleracyon
And supportacyon
Of reformacyon,
If they can spy
Circumspectly
Any worde defacid
That myght be rasid,
Els ye shall pray
Them that ye may
Contynew still
With there good wyll.
Ad serenissimam Majestatem Regiam, pariter cum Domino
Cardinali, Legato a latere honorificatissimo, &c.
Cardinali, Legato a latere honorificatissimo, &c.
Lautre Enuoy.
Perge, liber, celebrem pronus regem venerare
Henricum octavum, resonans sua præmia laudis.
Cardineum dominum pariter venerando salutes,
Legatum a latere, et fiat memor ipse precare
Prebendæ, quam promisit mihi credere quondam,
Meque suum referas pignus sperare salutis
Inter spemque metum.
Henricum octavum, resonans sua præmia laudis.
241
Legatum a latere, et fiat memor ipse precare
Prebendæ, quam promisit mihi credere quondam,
Meque suum referas pignus sperare salutis
Inter spemque metum.
Twene hope and drede
My lyfe I lede,
But of my spede
Small sekernes:
Howe be it I rede
Both worde and dede
Should be agrede
In noblenes:
Or els, &c.
My lyfe I lede,
But of my spede
Small sekernes:
Howe be it I rede
Both worde and dede
Should be agrede
In noblenes:
Or els, &c.
242
ADMONET SKELTONIS OMNES ARBORES DARE LOCUM VIRIDI LAURO JUXTA GENUS SUUM.
Fraxinus in silvis, altis in montibus ornus,Populus in fluviis, abies, patulissima fagus,
Lenta salix, platanus, pinguis ficulnea ficus,
Glandifera et quercus, pirus, esculus, ardua pinus,
Balsamus exudans, oleaster, oliva Minervæ,
Juniperus, buxus, lentiscus cuspide lenta,
Botrigera et domino vitis gratissima Baccho,
Ilex et sterilis labrusca perosa colonis,
Mollibus exudans fragrantia thura Sabæis
Thus, redolens Arabis pariter notissima myrrha,
Et vos, O coryli fragiles, humilesque myricæ,
Et vos, O cedri redolentes, vos quoque myrti,
Arboris omne genus viridi concedite lauro!
Prennees en gre The Laurelle.
243
EN PARLAMENT A PARIS.
Iustice est morte,Et Veryte sommielle;
Droit et Raison
Sont alez aux pardons:
Lez deux premiers
Nul ne les resuelle;
Et lez derniers
Sount corrumpus par dons.
OUT OF FRENSHE INTO LATYN.
Abstulit atra dies Astræam; cana Fides sedSomno pressa jacet; Jus iter arripuit,
Et secum Ratio proficiscens limite longo:
Nemo duas primas evigilare parat;
Atque duo postrema absunt, et munera tantum
Impediunt nequeunt quod remeare domum.
OWT OF LATYNE INTO ENGLYSSHE.
Justyce now is dede;Trowth with a drowsy hede,
As heuy as the lede,
Is layd down to slepe,
And takith no kepe;
And Ryght is ouer the fallows
Gone to seke hallows,
With Reason together,
No man can tell whether:
244
The first twayne to wake;
And the twayne last
Be withholde so fast
With mony, as men sayne,
They can not come agayne.
A grant tort,
Foy dort.
Foy dort.
Here endith a ryght delectable tratyse vpon a
goodly Garlonde or Chapelet of Laurell, dyuysed
by mayster Skelton, Poete Laureat.
245
SPEKE, PARROT.
THE BOKE COMPILED BY MAISTER SKELTON, POET LAUREAT, CALLED SPEAKE, PARROT.
[Lectoribus auctor recipit opusculi hujus auxesim.
Crescet in immensum me vivo pagina præsens;Hinc mea dicetur Skeltonidis aurea fama.
Parot.]
My name is Parrot, a byrd of paradyse,
By nature deuysed of a wonderous kynde,
Dyentely dyeted with dyuers dylycate spyce,
Tyl Euphrates, that flode, dryueth me into Inde;
Where men of that countrey by fortune me fynd,
And send me to greate ladyes of estate;
Then Parot must haue an almon or a date:
By nature deuysed of a wonderous kynde,
Dyentely dyeted with dyuers dylycate spyce,
Tyl Euphrates, that flode, dryueth me into Inde;
246
And send me to greate ladyes of estate;
Then Parot must haue an almon or a date:
A cage curyously caruen, with syluer pyn,
Properly paynted, to be my couertowre;
A myrrour of glasse, that I may toote therin;
These maidens ful mekely with many a diuers flowre
Freshly they dresse, and make swete my bowre,
With, Speke, Parrot, I pray you, full curtesly they say;
Parrot is a goodly byrd, a prety popagey:
Properly paynted, to be my couertowre;
A myrrour of glasse, that I may toote therin;
These maidens ful mekely with many a diuers flowre
Freshly they dresse, and make swete my bowre,
With, Speke, Parrot, I pray you, full curtesly they say;
Parrot is a goodly byrd, a prety popagey:
With my becke bent my lyttyl wanton eye,
My fedders freshe as is the emrawde grene,
About my neck a cyrculet lyke the ryche rubye,
My lyttyll leggys, my feet both fete and clene,
I am a mynyon to wayt vppon a quene;
My proper Parrot, my lyttyl prety foole;
With ladyes I lerne, and go with them to scole.
My fedders freshe as is the emrawde grene,
About my neck a cyrculet lyke the ryche rubye,
My lyttyll leggys, my feet both fete and clene,
I am a mynyon to wayt vppon a quene;
My proper Parrot, my lyttyl prety foole;
With ladyes I lerne, and go with them to scole.
Hagh, ha, ha, Parrot, ye can laugh pretyly!
Parrot hath not dyned of al this long day:
Lyke your pus cate, Parrot can mute and cry
In Lattyn, in Ebrew, Araby, and Caldey;
In Greke tong Parrot can bothe speke and say,
As Percyus, that poet, doth reporte of me,
Quis expedivit psittaco suum chaire?
Parrot hath not dyned of al this long day:
247
In Lattyn, in Ebrew, Araby, and Caldey;
In Greke tong Parrot can bothe speke and say,
As Percyus, that poet, doth reporte of me,
Quis expedivit psittaco suum chaire?
Dowse French of Parryse Parrot can lerne,
Pronounsynge my purpose after my properte,
With, Perliez byen, Parrot, ou perlez rien;
With Douch, with Spanysh, my tong can agre;
In Englysh to God Parrot can supple,
Cryst saue Kyng Henry the viii., our royall kyng,
The red rose in honour to florysh and sprynge!
Pronounsynge my purpose after my properte,
With, Perliez byen, Parrot, ou perlez rien;
With Douch, with Spanysh, my tong can agre;
In Englysh to God Parrot can supple,
Cryst saue Kyng Henry the viii., our royall kyng,
The red rose in honour to florysh and sprynge!
With Kateryne incomparable, our ryall quene also,
That pereles pomegarnet, Chryst saue her noble grace!
Parrot, saves habler Castiliano,
With fidasso de cosso in Turkey and in Trace;
Vis consilii expers, as techith me Horace,
Mole ruit sua, whose dictes ar pregnaunte,
Souentez foys, Parrot, en souenaunte.
That pereles pomegarnet, Chryst saue her noble grace!
Parrot, saves habler Castiliano,
248
Vis consilii expers, as techith me Horace,
Mole ruit sua, whose dictes ar pregnaunte,
Souentez foys, Parrot, en souenaunte.
My lady maystres, dame Philology,
Gaue me a gyfte in my nest whan I laye,
To lerne all language, and it to spake aptely:
Now pandez mory, wax frantycke, some men saye,
Phroneses for Freneses may not holde her way.
An almon now for Parrot, dilycatly drest;
In Salve festa dies, toto theyr doth best.
Gaue me a gyfte in my nest whan I laye,
To lerne all language, and it to spake aptely:
Now pandez mory, wax frantycke, some men saye,
Phroneses for Freneses may not holde her way.
An almon now for Parrot, dilycatly drest;
In Salve festa dies, toto theyr doth best.
Moderata juvant, but toto doth excede;
Dyscressyon is moder of noble vertues all;
Myden agan in Greke tonge we rede;
But reason and wyt wantyth theyr prouyncyall
When wylfulnes is vycar generall.
Hæc res acu tangitur, Parrot, par ma foy:
Ticez vous, Parrot, tenez vous coye.
Dyscressyon is moder of noble vertues all;
Myden agan in Greke tonge we rede;
But reason and wyt wantyth theyr prouyncyall
When wylfulnes is vycar generall.
Hæc res acu tangitur, Parrot, par ma foy:
Ticez vous, Parrot, tenez vous coye.
Besy, besy, besy, and besynes agayne!
Que pensez voz, Parrot? what meneth this besynes?
Vitulus in Oreb troubled Arons brayne,
Melchisedeck mercyfull made Moloc mercyles;
To wyse is no vertue, to medlyng, to restles;
In mesure is tresure, cum sensu maturato;
Ne tropo sanno, ne tropo mato.
Que pensez voz, Parrot? what meneth this besynes?
249
Melchisedeck mercyfull made Moloc mercyles;
To wyse is no vertue, to medlyng, to restles;
In mesure is tresure, cum sensu maturato;
Ne tropo sanno, ne tropo mato.
Aram was fyred with Caldies fyer called Ur;
Iobab was brought vp in the lande of Hus;
The lynage of Lot toke supporte of Assur;
Iereboseth is Ebrue, who lyst the cause dyscus.
Peace, Parrot, ye prate, as ye were ebrius:
Howst thé, lyuer god van hemrik, ic seg;
In Popering grew peres, whan Parrot was an eg.
Iobab was brought vp in the lande of Hus;
The lynage of Lot toke supporte of Assur;
Iereboseth is Ebrue, who lyst the cause dyscus.
Peace, Parrot, ye prate, as ye were ebrius:
Howst thé, lyuer god van hemrik, ic seg;
In Popering grew peres, whan Parrot was an eg.
What is this to purpose? Ouer in a whynny meg!
Hop Lobyn of Lowdeon wald haue e byt of bred;
The iebet of Baldock was made for Jack Leg;
An arrow vnfethered and without an hed,
A bagpype without blowynge standeth in no sted:
Some run to far before, some run to far behynde,
Some be to churlysshe, and some be to kynde.
Hop Lobyn of Lowdeon wald haue e byt of bred;
The iebet of Baldock was made for Jack Leg;
An arrow vnfethered and without an hed,
A bagpype without blowynge standeth in no sted:
Some run to far before, some run to far behynde,
Some be to churlysshe, and some be to kynde.
Ic dien serueth for the erstrych fether,
Ic dien is the language of the land of Beme;
In Affryc tongue byrsa is a thonge of lether;
In Palestina there is Ierusalem.
Colostrum now for Parot, whyte bred and swete creme!
Our Thomasen she doth trip, our Ienet she doth shayle:
Parrot hath a blacke beard and a fayre grene tayle.
Ic dien is the language of the land of Beme;
In Affryc tongue byrsa is a thonge of lether;
In Palestina there is Ierusalem.
Colostrum now for Parot, whyte bred and swete creme!
250
Parrot hath a blacke beard and a fayre grene tayle.
Moryshe myne owne shelfe, the costermonger sayth;
Fate, fate, fate, ye Irysh water lag;
In flattryng fables men fynde but lyttyl fayth:
But moveatur terra, let the world wag;
Let syr Wrigwrag wrastell with syr Delarag;
Euery man after his maner of wayes,
Pawbe une aruer, so the Welche man sayes.
Fate, fate, fate, ye Irysh water lag;
In flattryng fables men fynde but lyttyl fayth:
But moveatur terra, let the world wag;
Let syr Wrigwrag wrastell with syr Delarag;
Euery man after his maner of wayes,
Pawbe une aruer, so the Welche man sayes.
Suche shredis of sentence, strowed in the shop
Of auncyent Aristippus and such other mo,
I gader togyther and close in my crop,
Of my wanton conseyt, unde depromo
Dilemmata docta in pædagogio
Sacro vatum, whereof to you I breke:
I pray you, let Parot haue lyberte to speke.
Of auncyent Aristippus and such other mo,
I gader togyther and close in my crop,
Of my wanton conseyt, unde depromo
Dilemmata docta in pædagogio
Sacro vatum, whereof to you I breke:
I pray you, let Parot haue lyberte to speke.
But ware the cat, Parot, ware the fals cat!
With, Who is there? a mayd? nay, nay, I trow:
Ware ryat, Parrot, ware ryot, ware that!
Mete, mete for Parrot, mete, I say, how!
Thus dyuers of language by lernyng I grow:
With, Bas me, swete Parrot, bas me, swete swete;
To dwell amonge ladyes Parrot is mete.
With, Who is there? a mayd? nay, nay, I trow:
Ware ryat, Parrot, ware ryot, ware that!
Mete, mete for Parrot, mete, I say, how!
Thus dyuers of language by lernyng I grow:
With, Bas me, swete Parrot, bas me, swete swete;
To dwell amonge ladyes Parrot is mete.
251
Parrot, Parrot, Parrot, praty popigay!
With my beke I can pyke my lyttel praty too
My delyght is solas, pleasure, dysporte, and pley;
Lyke a wanton, whan I wyll, I rele to and froo:
Parot can say, Cæsar, ave, also;
But Parrot hath no fauour to Esebon:
Aboue all other byrdis, set Parrot alone.
With my beke I can pyke my lyttel praty too
My delyght is solas, pleasure, dysporte, and pley;
Lyke a wanton, whan I wyll, I rele to and froo:
Parot can say, Cæsar, ave, also;
But Parrot hath no fauour to Esebon:
Aboue all other byrdis, set Parrot alone.
Ulula, Esebon, for Ieromy doth wepe!
Sion is in sadnes, Rachell ruly doth loke;
Madionita Ietro, our Moyses kepyth his shepe;
Gedeon is gon, that Zalmane vndertoke,
Oreb et Zeb, of Judicum rede the boke;
Now Geball, Amon, and Amaloch,—harke, harke!
Parrot pretendith to be a bybyll clarke.
Sion is in sadnes, Rachell ruly doth loke;
Madionita Ietro, our Moyses kepyth his shepe;
Gedeon is gon, that Zalmane vndertoke,
Oreb et Zeb, of Judicum rede the boke;
Now Geball, Amon, and Amaloch,—harke, harke!
Parrot pretendith to be a bybyll clarke.
O Esebon, Esebon! to thè is cum agayne
Seon, the regent Amorræorum,
And Og, that fat hog of Basan, doth retayne,
The crafty coistronus Cananæorum;
And asylum, whilom refugium miserorum,
Non fanum, sed profanum, standyth in lyttyll sted:
Ulula, Esebon, for Iepte is starke ded!
Seon, the regent Amorræorum,
And Og, that fat hog of Basan, doth retayne,
The crafty coistronus Cananæorum;
And asylum, whilom refugium miserorum,
Non fanum, sed profanum, standyth in lyttyll sted:
Ulula, Esebon, for Iepte is starke ded!
Esebon, Marybon, Wheston next Barnet;
A trym tram for an horse myll it were a nyse thyng;
Deyntes for dammoysels, chaffer far fet:
Bo ho doth bark wel, but Hough ho he rulyth the ring;
From Scarpary to Tartary renoun therin doth spryng,
With, He sayd, and we said, ich wot now what ich wot,
Quod magnus est dominus Judas Scarioth.
A trym tram for an horse myll it were a nyse thyng;
252
Bo ho doth bark wel, but Hough ho he rulyth the ring;
From Scarpary to Tartary renoun therin doth spryng,
With, He sayd, and we said, ich wot now what ich wot,
Quod magnus est dominus Judas Scarioth.
Tholomye and Haly were cunnyng and wyse
In the volvell, in the quadrant, and in the astroloby,
To pronostycate truly the chaunce of fortunys dyse;
Som trete of theyr tirykis, som of astrology,
Som pseudo-propheta with chiromancy:
Yf fortune be frendly, and grace be the guyde,
Honowre with renowne wyll ren on that syde.
In the volvell, in the quadrant, and in the astroloby,
To pronostycate truly the chaunce of fortunys dyse;
Som trete of theyr tirykis, som of astrology,
Som pseudo-propheta with chiromancy:
Yf fortune be frendly, and grace be the guyde,
Honowre with renowne wyll ren on that syde.
Monon calon agaton,
Qoud Parato
In Græco.
Qoud Parato
In Græco.
Let Parrot, I pray you, haue lyberte to prate,
For aurea lingua Græca ought to be magnyfyed,
Yf it were cond perfytely, and after the rate,
As lingua Latina, in scole matter occupyed;
But our Grekis theyr Greke so well haue applyed,
That they cannot say in Greke, rydynge by the way,
How, hosteler, fetche my hors a botell of hay!
For aurea lingua Græca ought to be magnyfyed,
Yf it were cond perfytely, and after the rate,
As lingua Latina, in scole matter occupyed;
But our Grekis theyr Greke so well haue applyed,
253
How, hosteler, fetche my hors a botell of hay!
Neyther frame a silogisme in phrisesomorum,
Formaliter et Græce, cum medio termino:
Our Grekys ye walow in the washbol Argolicorum;
For though ye can tell in Greke what is phormio,
Yet ye seke out your Greke in Capricornio;
For they scrape out good scrypture, and set in a gall,
Ye go about to amende, and ye mare all.
Formaliter et Græce, cum medio termino:
Our Grekys ye walow in the washbol Argolicorum;
For though ye can tell in Greke what is phormio,
Yet ye seke out your Greke in Capricornio;
For they scrape out good scrypture, and set in a gall,
Ye go about to amende, and ye mare all.
Some argue secundum quid ad simpliciter,
And yet he wolde be rekenyd pro Areopagita;
And some make distinctions multipliciter,
Whether ita were before non, or non before ita,
Nether wise nor wel lernid, but like hermaphrodita:
Set sophia asyde, for euery Jack Raker
And euery mad medler must now be a maker.
And yet he wolde be rekenyd pro Areopagita;
And some make distinctions multipliciter,
Whether ita were before non, or non before ita,
Nether wise nor wel lernid, but like hermaphrodita:
Set sophia asyde, for euery Jack Raker
And euery mad medler must now be a maker.
In Academia Parrot dare no probleme kepe;
For Græce fari so occupyeth the chayre,
That Latinum fari may fall to rest and slepe,
And syllogisari was drowned at Sturbrydge fayre;
Tryuyals and quatryuyals so sore now they appayre,
That Parrot the popagay hath pytye to beholde
How the rest of good lernyng is roufled vp and trold.
For Græce fari so occupyeth the chayre,
That Latinum fari may fall to rest and slepe,
254
Tryuyals and quatryuyals so sore now they appayre,
That Parrot the popagay hath pytye to beholde
How the rest of good lernyng is roufled vp and trold.
Albertus de modo significandi,
And Donatus be dryuen out of scole;
Prisians hed broken now handy dandy,
And Inter didascolos is rekened for a fole;
Alexander, a gander of Menanders pole,
With Da Cansales, is cast out of the gate,
And Da Racionales dare not shew his pate.
And Donatus be dryuen out of scole;
Prisians hed broken now handy dandy,
And Inter didascolos is rekened for a fole;
Alexander, a gander of Menanders pole,
With Da Cansales, is cast out of the gate,
And Da Racionales dare not shew his pate.
Plauti in his comedies a chyld shall now reherse,
And medyll with Quintylyan in his Declamacyons,
That Pety Caton can scantly construe a verse,
With Aveto in Græco, and such solempne salutacyons,
Can skantly the tensis of his coniugacyons;
Settynge theyr myndys so moche of eloquens,
That of theyr scole maters lost is the hole sentens.
And medyll with Quintylyan in his Declamacyons,
That Pety Caton can scantly construe a verse,
With Aveto in Græco, and such solempne salutacyons,
Can skantly the tensis of his coniugacyons;
Settynge theyr myndys so moche of eloquens,
That of theyr scole maters lost is the hole sentens.
Now a nutmeg, a nutmeg, cum gariopholo,
For Parrot to pyke vpon, his brayne for to stable,
Swete synamum styckis and pleris cum musco!
In Paradyce, that place of pleasure perdurable,
The progeny of Parrottis were fayre and fauorable;
Nowe in valle Ebron Parrot is fayne to fede:
Cristecrosse and saynt Nycholas, Parrot, be your good spede!
For Parrot to pyke vpon, his brayne for to stable,
255
In Paradyce, that place of pleasure perdurable,
The progeny of Parrottis were fayre and fauorable;
Nowe in valle Ebron Parrot is fayne to fede:
Cristecrosse and saynt Nycholas, Parrot, be your good spede!
The myrrour that I tote in, quasi diaphanum,
Vel quasi speculum, in ænigmate,
Elencticum, or ells enthymematicum,
For logicions to loke on, somwhat sophistice:
Retoricyons and oratours in freshe humanyte,
Support Parrot, I pray you, with your suffrage ornate,
Of confuse tantum auoydynge the chekmate.
Vel quasi speculum, in ænigmate,
Elencticum, or ells enthymematicum,
For logicions to loke on, somwhat sophistice:
Retoricyons and oratours in freshe humanyte,
Support Parrot, I pray you, with your suffrage ornate,
Of confuse tantum auoydynge the chekmate.
But of that supposicyon that callyd is arte
Confuse distributive, as Parrot hath deuysed,
Let euery man after his merit take his parte,
For in this processe Parrot nothing hath surmysed,
No matter pretendyd, nor nothyng enterprysed,
But that metaphora, allegoria with all,
Shall be his protectyon, his pauys, and his wall.
Confuse distributive, as Parrot hath deuysed,
Let euery man after his merit take his parte,
For in this processe Parrot nothing hath surmysed,
No matter pretendyd, nor nothyng enterprysed,
But that metaphora, allegoria with all,
Shall be his protectyon, his pauys, and his wall.
256
For Parot is no churlish chowgh, nor no flekyd pye,
Parrot is no pendugum, that men call a carlyng,
Parrot is no woodecocke, nor no butterfly,
Parrot is no stameryng stare, that men call a starlyng;
But Parot is my owne dere harte and my dere derling;
Melpomene, that fayre mayde, she burneshed his beke:
I pray you, let Parrot haue lyberte to speke.
Parrot is no pendugum, that men call a carlyng,
Parrot is no woodecocke, nor no butterfly,
Parrot is no stameryng stare, that men call a starlyng;
But Parot is my owne dere harte and my dere derling;
Melpomene, that fayre mayde, she burneshed his beke:
I pray you, let Parrot haue lyberte to speke.
Parrot is a fayre byrd for a lady;
God of his goodnes him framed and wrought;
When Parrot is ded, she dothe not putrefy:
Ye, all thyng mortall shall torne vnto nought,
Except mannes soule, that Chryst so dere bought;
That neuer may dye, nor neuer dye shall:
Make moche of Parrot, the popegay ryall.
God of his goodnes him framed and wrought;
When Parrot is ded, she dothe not putrefy:
Ye, all thyng mortall shall torne vnto nought,
Except mannes soule, that Chryst so dere bought;
That neuer may dye, nor neuer dye shall:
Make moche of Parrot, the popegay ryall.
For that pereles prynce that Parrot dyd create,
He made you of nothynge by his magistye:
Poynt well this probleme that Parrot doth prate,
And remembre amonge how Parrot and ye
Shall lepe from this lyfe, as mery as we be;
Pompe, pryde, honour, ryches, and worldly lust,
Parrot sayth playnly, shall tourne all to dust.
He made you of nothynge by his magistye:
Poynt well this probleme that Parrot doth prate,
And remembre amonge how Parrot and ye
Shall lepe from this lyfe, as mery as we be;
Pompe, pryde, honour, ryches, and worldly lust,
Parrot sayth playnly, shall tourne all to dust.
257
With hert most tender,
To rekyn with this recule now,
And it to remember.
Psittacus, ecce, cano, nec sunt mea carmina Phœbo
Digna scio, tamen est plena camena deo.
Secundum Skeltonida famigeratum, In Piereorum catalogo numeratum. Itaque consolamini invicem in verbis istis, &c. Candidi lectores, callide callete; vestrum fovete Psittacum, &c.
[Galathea.Speke, Parrotte, I pray yow, for Maryes saake,
Whate mone he made when Pamphylus loste hys make.
Parrotte.
My propire Besse,
My praty Besse,
Turne ones agayne to me:
For slepyste thou, Besse,
Or wakeste thow, Besse,
Myne herte hyt ys with thé.
My praty Besse,
Turne ones agayne to me:
For slepyste thou, Besse,
258
Myne herte hyt ys with thé.
My deysy delectabyll,
My prymerose commendabyll,
My vyolet amyabyll,
My ioye inexplicabill,
Now torne agayne to me.
My prymerose commendabyll,
My vyolet amyabyll,
My ioye inexplicabill,
Now torne agayne to me.
I wylbe ferme and stabyll,
And to yow seruyceabyll,
And also prophytabyll,
Yf ye be agreabyll
To turne agayne to me,
My propyr Besse.
And to yow seruyceabyll,
And also prophytabyll,
Yf ye be agreabyll
To turne agayne to me,
My propyr Besse.
Alas, I am dysdayned,
And as a man halfe maymed,
My harte is so sore payned!
I pray thé, Besse, vnfayned,
Yet com agayne to me!
And as a man halfe maymed,
My harte is so sore payned!
I pray thé, Besse, vnfayned,
Yet com agayne to me!
Be loue I am constreyned
To be with yow retayned,
Hyt wyll not be refrayned:
I pray yow, be reclaymed,
And torne agayne to me,
My propyr Besse.
To be with yow retayned,
Hyt wyll not be refrayned:
259
And torne agayne to me,
My propyr Besse.
Quod Parot, the popagay royall.
Martialis cecinit carmen fit mihi scutum:— Est mihi lasciva pagina, vita proba.]
Galethea.Now kus me, Parrot, kus me, kus, kus, kus:
Goddys blessyng lyght on thy swete lyttyll mus!
Vita et anima,
Zoe kai psyche.
Concumbunt Græce. Non est hic sermo pudicus.
Ergo
Attica dictaminaSunt plumbi lamina,
260
Avertat hæc Urania!
[Amen.]
Amen, Amen,
And set to a D,
And then it is, Amend
Our new found A, B, C.
Cum cæteris paribus.
[Lenuoy primere
Go, litell quayre, namyd the Popagay,
Home to resorte Jerobesethe perswade;
For the cliffes of Scaloppe they rore wellaway,
And the sandes of Cefas begyn to waste and fade,
For replicacion restles that he of late ther made;
Now Neptune and Eolus ar agreed of lyclyhode,
For Tytus at Dover abydythe in the rode;
Home to resorte Jerobesethe perswade;
For the cliffes of Scaloppe they rore wellaway,
And the sandes of Cefas begyn to waste and fade,
For replicacion restles that he of late ther made;
Now Neptune and Eolus ar agreed of lyclyhode,
For Tytus at Dover abydythe in the rode;
Lucina she wadythe among the watry floddes,
And the cokkes begyn to crowe agayne the day;
Le tonsan de Jason is lodgid among the shrowdes,
Of Argus revengyd, recover when he may;
Lyacon of Libyk and Lydy hathe cawghte hys pray:
Goe, lytyll quayre, pray them that yow beholde,
In there remembraunce ye may be inrolde.
And the cokkes begyn to crowe agayne the day;
Le tonsan de Jason is lodgid among the shrowdes,
Of Argus revengyd, recover when he may;
Lyacon of Libyk and Lydy hathe cawghte hys pray:
Goe, lytyll quayre, pray them that yow beholde,
In there remembraunce ye may be inrolde.
261
Yet some folys say that ye arre ffurnysshyd with knakkes,
That hang togedyr as fethyrs in the wynde;
But lewdlye ar they lettyrd that your lernyng lackys,
Barkyng and whyning, lyke churlysshe currys of kynde,
For whoo lokythe wyselye in your warkys may fynde
Muche frutefull mater: but now, for your defence
Agayne all remordes arme yow with paciens.
That hang togedyr as fethyrs in the wynde;
But lewdlye ar they lettyrd that your lernyng lackys,
Barkyng and whyning, lyke churlysshe currys of kynde,
For whoo lokythe wyselye in your warkys may fynde
Muche frutefull mater: but now, for your defence
Agayne all remordes arme yow with paciens.
Monostichon.
Ipse sagax æqui ceu verax nuntius ito. Morda puros mal desires. Portugues. Penultimo die Octobris, 33°.Secunde Lenuoy.
Passe forthe, Parotte, towardes some passengere,
Require hym to convey yow ovyr the salte fome;
Addressyng your selfe, lyke a sadde messengere,
To ower soleyne seigneour Sadoke, desire hym to cum home,
Makyng hys pylgrimage by nostre dame de Crome;
For Jerico and Jerssey shall mete togethyr assone
As he to exployte the man owte of the mone.
Require hym to convey yow ovyr the salte fome;
Addressyng your selfe, lyke a sadde messengere,
To ower soleyne seigneour Sadoke, desire hym to cum home,
Makyng hys pylgrimage by nostre dame de Crome;
For Jerico and Jerssey shall mete togethyr assone
As he to exployte the man owte of the mone.
With porpose and graundepose he may fede hym fatte,
Thowghe he pampyr not hys paunche with the grete seall:
We haue longyd and lokyd long tyme for that,
Whyche cawsythe pore suters haue many a hongry mele:
As presydent and regente he rulythe every deall.
Now pas furthe, good Parott, ower Lorde be your stede,
In this your journey to prospere and spede!
262
We haue longyd and lokyd long tyme for that,
Whyche cawsythe pore suters haue many a hongry mele:
As presydent and regente he rulythe every deall.
Now pas furthe, good Parott, ower Lorde be your stede,
In this your journey to prospere and spede!
And thowe sum dysdayne yow, and sey how ye prate,
And howe your poemys arre barayne of polyshed eloquens,
There is none that your name woll abbrogate
Then nodypollys and gramatolys of smalle intellygens;
To rude ys there reason to reche to your sentence:
Suche malyncoly mastyvys and mangye curre dogges
Ar mete for a swyneherde to hunte after hogges.
And howe your poemys arre barayne of polyshed eloquens,
There is none that your name woll abbrogate
Then nodypollys and gramatolys of smalle intellygens;
To rude ys there reason to reche to your sentence:
Suche malyncoly mastyvys and mangye curre dogges
Ar mete for a swyneherde to hunte after hogges.
Monostichon.
Psittace, perge volans, fatuorum tela retundas. Morda puros mall desers. Portugues. In diebus Novembris,263
Le dereyn Lenveoy.
Prepayre yow, Parrot, breuely your passage to take,
Of Mercury vndyr the trynall aspecte,
And sadlye salute ower solen syre Sydrake,
And shewe hym that all the world dothe coniecte,
How the maters he mellis in com to small effecte;
For he wantythe of hys wyttes that all wold rule alone;
Hyt is no lytyll bordon to bere a grete mylle stone:
Of Mercury vndyr the trynall aspecte,
And sadlye salute ower solen syre Sydrake,
And shewe hym that all the world dothe coniecte,
How the maters he mellis in com to small effecte;
For he wantythe of hys wyttes that all wold rule alone;
Hyt is no lytyll bordon to bere a grete mylle stone:
To bryng all the see into a cheryston pytte,
To nombyr all the sterrys in the fyrmament,
To rule ix realmes by one mannes wytte,
To suche thynges ympossybyll reason cannot consente:
Muche money, men sey, there madly he hathe spente:
Parrot, ye may prate thys vndyr protestacion,
Was neuyr suche a senatour syn Crystes incarnacion.
To nombyr all the sterrys in the fyrmament,
To rule ix realmes by one mannes wytte,
To suche thynges ympossybyll reason cannot consente:
Muche money, men sey, there madly he hathe spente:
Parrot, ye may prate thys vndyr protestacion,
Was neuyr suche a senatour syn Crystes incarnacion.
Wherfor he may now come agayne as he wente,
Non sine postica sanna, as I trowe,
From Calys to Dovyr, to Caunterbury in Kente,
To make reconyng in the resseyte how Robyn loste hys bowe,
To sowe corne in the see sande, ther wyll no crope growe.
Thow ye be tauntyd, Parotte, with tonges attayntyd,
Yet your problemes ar preignaunte, and with loyalte acquayntyd.
Non sine postica sanna, as I trowe,
From Calys to Dovyr, to Caunterbury in Kente,
To make reconyng in the resseyte how Robyn loste hys bowe,
264
Thow ye be tauntyd, Parotte, with tonges attayntyd,
Yet your problemes ar preignaunte, and with loyalte acquayntyd.
Monostichon.
I, properans, Parrot[e], malas sic corripe linguas. Morda puros mall desires. Portigues. 15 kalendis Decembris, 34.Distichon miserabile.
Altior, heu, cedro, crudelior, heu, leopardo!Heu, vitulus bubali fit dominus Priami!
Tetrastichon,—Unde species Priami est digna imperio.
Non annis licet et Priamus sed honore voceris:Dum foveas vitulum, rex, regeris, Britonum;
Rex, regeris, non ipse regis: rex inclyte, calle;
Subde tibi vitulum, ne fatuet nimium.
God amend all,
That all amend may!
Amen, quod Parott,
265
Kalendis Decembris,
34.
Lenvoy royall.
Go, propyr Parotte, my popagay,
That lordes and ladies thys pamflett may behold,
With notable clerkes: supply to them, I pray,
Your rudenes to pardon, and also that they wolde
Vouchesafe to defend yow agayne the brawlyng scolde,
Callyd Detraxion, encankryd with envye,
Whose tong ys attayntyd with slaundrys obliqui.
That lordes and ladies thys pamflett may behold,
With notable clerkes: supply to them, I pray,
Your rudenes to pardon, and also that they wolde
Vouchesafe to defend yow agayne the brawlyng scolde,
Callyd Detraxion, encankryd with envye,
Whose tong ys attayntyd with slaundrys obliqui.
For trowthe in parabyll ye wantonlye pronounce,
Langagys diuers, yet vndyr that dothe reste
Maters more precious then the ryche jacounce,
Diamounde, or rubye, or balas of the beste,
Or eyndye sapher with oryente perlys dreste:
Wherfor your remorde[r]s ar madde, or else starke blynde,
Yow to remorde erste or they know your mynde.
Langagys diuers, yet vndyr that dothe reste
Maters more precious then the ryche jacounce,
Diamounde, or rubye, or balas of the beste,
Or eyndye sapher with oryente perlys dreste:
Wherfor your remorde[r]s ar madde, or else starke blynde,
Yow to remorde erste or they know your mynde.
Distichon.
I, volitans, Parrote, tuam moderare Minervam:Vix tua percipient, qui tua teque legent.
266
Hyperbato[n].
Psittacus hi notus seu Persius est puto notus,Nec reor est nec erit licet est erit.
Maledite soyte bouche malheurewse!
Laucture de Parott.
O my Parrot, O unice dilecte, votorum meorum omnis lapis, lapis pretiosus operimentum tuum!
Parrott.Sicut Aaron populumque, sic bubali vitulus, sic bubali vitulus, sic bubali vitulus.
Thus myche Parott hathe opynlye expreste:
Let se who dare make vp the reste.
Le Popagay sen va complayndre.
Helas! I lamente the dull abusyd brayne,
The enfatuate fantasies, the wytles wylfulnes
Of on and hothyr at me that haue dysdayne:
Som sey, they cannot my parables expresse;
Som sey, I rayle att ryott recheles;
Some say but lityll, and thynke more in there thowghte,
How thys prosses I prate of, hyt ys not all for nowghte.
The enfatuate fantasies, the wytles wylfulnes
Of on and hothyr at me that haue dysdayne:
Som sey, they cannot my parables expresse;
Som sey, I rayle att ryott recheles;
267
How thys prosses I prate of, hyt ys not all for nowghte.
O causeles cowardes, O hartles hardynes!
O manles manhod, enfayntyd all with fere!
O connyng clergye, where ys your redynes
To practise or postyll thys prosses here and there?
For drede ye darre not medyll with suche gere,
Or elles ye pynche curtesy, trulye as I trowe,
Whyche of yow fyrste dare boldlye plucke the crowe.
O manles manhod, enfayntyd all with fere!
O connyng clergye, where ys your redynes
To practise or postyll thys prosses here and there?
For drede ye darre not medyll with suche gere,
Or elles ye pynche curtesy, trulye as I trowe,
Whyche of yow fyrste dare boldlye plucke the crowe.
The skye is clowdy, the coste is nothyng clere;
Tytan hathe truste vp hys tressys of fyne golde;
Iupyter for Saturne darre make no royall chere;
Lyacon lawghyth there att, and berythe hym more bolde;
Racell, rulye ragged, she is like to cache colde;
Moloc, that mawmett, there darre no man withsay;
The reste of suche reconyng may make a fowle fraye.
Tytan hathe truste vp hys tressys of fyne golde;
Iupyter for Saturne darre make no royall chere;
Lyacon lawghyth there att, and berythe hym more bolde;
Racell, rulye ragged, she is like to cache colde;
Moloc, that mawmett, there darre no man withsay;
The reste of suche reconyng may make a fowle fraye.
Dixit, quod Parrott, the royall popagay.
Cest chose maleheure[u]se,
Que mall bouche.
Que mall bouche.
268
Jupiter ut nitido deus est veneratus Olympo;
Hic coliturque deus.
Sunt data thura Jovi, rutilo solio residenti;
Cum Jove thura capit.
Jupiter astrorum rector dominusque polorum;
Anglica sceptra regit.
Galathea.
I compas the conveyaunce vnto the capitall
Of ower clerke Cleros, whythyr, thydyr, and why not hethyr?
For passe a pase apase ys gon to cache a molle,
Over Scarpary mala vi, Monsyre cy and sliddyr:
Whate sequele shall folow when pendugims mete togethyr?
Speke, Parotte, my swete byrde, and ye shall haue a date,
Of frantycknes and folysshnes whyche ys the grett state?
Parotte.
Difficille hit ys to ansswere thys demaunde;
Yet, aftyr the sagacite of a popagay,—
Frantiknes dothe rule and all thyng commaunde;
Wylfulnes and braynles no[w] rule all the raye;
Agayne ffrentike frenesy there dar no man sey nay,
For ffrantiknes, and wylfulnes, and braynles ensembyll,
The nebbis of a lyon they make to trete and trembyll;
Yet, aftyr the sagacite of a popagay,—
Frantiknes dothe rule and all thyng commaunde;
Wylfulnes and braynles no[w] rule all the raye;
Agayne ffrentike frenesy there dar no man sey nay,
269
The nebbis of a lyon they make to trete and trembyll;
To jumbyll, to stombyll, to tumbyll down lyke folys,
To lowre, to droupe, to knele, to stowpe, and to play cowche quale,
To fysshe afore the nette, and to drawe polys;
He make[th] them to bere babylles, and to bere a lowe sayle;
He caryeth a kyng in hys sleve, yf all the worlde fayle;
He facithe owte at a fflusshe, with, shewe, take all!
Of Pope Julius cardys he ys chefe cardynall.
To lowre, to droupe, to knele, to stowpe, and to play cowche quale,
To fysshe afore the nette, and to drawe polys;
He make[th] them to bere babylles, and to bere a lowe sayle;
He caryeth a kyng in hys sleve, yf all the worlde fayle;
He facithe owte at a fflusshe, with, shewe, take all!
Of Pope Julius cardys he ys chefe cardynall.
He tryhumfythe, he trumpythe, he turnythe all vp and downe,
With, skyregalyard, prowde palyard, vaunteperler, ye prate!
Hys woluys hede, wanne, bloo as lede, gapythe ouer the crowne:
Hyt ys to fere leste he wolde were the garland on hys pate,
Peregall with all prynces farre passyng his estate;
For of ower regente the regiment he hathe, ex qua vi,
Patet per versus, quod ex vi bolte harvi.
With, skyregalyard, prowde palyard, vaunteperler, ye prate!
Hys woluys hede, wanne, bloo as lede, gapythe ouer the crowne:
Hyt ys to fere leste he wolde were the garland on hys pate,
Peregall with all prynces farre passyng his estate;
270
Patet per versus, quod ex vi bolte harvi.
Now, Galathea, lett Parrot, I pray yow, haue hys date;
Yett dates now ar deynte, and wax verye scante,
For grocers were grugyd at and groynyd at but late;
Grete reysons with resons be now reprobitante,
For reysons ar no resons, but resons currant:
Ryn God, rynne Devyll! yet the date of ower Lord
And the date of the Devyll dothe shrewlye accord.
Dixit, quod Parrott, the popagay royall.
Yett dates now ar deynte, and wax verye scante,
For grocers were grugyd at and groynyd at but late;
Grete reysons with resons be now reprobitante,
For reysons ar no resons, but resons currant:
Ryn God, rynne Devyll! yet the date of ower Lord
And the date of the Devyll dothe shrewlye accord.
Dixit, quod Parrott, the popagay royall.
Galathea.
Nowe, Parott, my swete byrde, speke owte yet ons agayne,
Sette asyde all sophyms, and speke now trew and playne.
Parotte.
So many morall maters, and so lytell vsyd;
So myche newe makyng, and so madd tyme spente;
So myche translacion in to Englyshe confused;
So myche nobyll prechyng, and so lytell amendment;
So myche consultacion, almoste to none entente;
So myche provision, and so lytell wytte at nede;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde there can no clerkes rede.
So myche newe makyng, and so madd tyme spente;
So myche translacion in to Englyshe confused;
So myche nobyll prechyng, and so lytell amendment;
271
So myche provision, and so lytell wytte at nede;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde there can no clerkes rede.
So lytyll dyscressyon, and so myche reasonyng;
So myche hardy dardy, and so lytell manlynes;
So prodigall expence, and so shamfull reconyng;
So gorgyous garmentes, and so myche wrechydnese;
So myche portlye pride, with pursys penyles;
So myche spente before, and so myche vnpayd behynde;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde there can no clerkes fynde.
So myche hardy dardy, and so lytell manlynes;
So prodigall expence, and so shamfull reconyng;
So gorgyous garmentes, and so myche wrechydnese;
So myche portlye pride, with pursys penyles;
So myche spente before, and so myche vnpayd behynde;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde there can no clerkes fynde.
So myche forcastyng, and so farre an after dele;
So myche poletyke pratyng, and so lytell stondythe in stede;
So lytell secretnese, and so myche grete councell;
So manye bolde barons, there hertes as dull as lede;
So many nobyll bodyes vndyr on dawys hedd;
So royall a kyng as reynythe vppon vs all;—
Syns Dewcalions flodde was nevyr sene nor shall.
So myche poletyke pratyng, and so lytell stondythe in stede;
So lytell secretnese, and so myche grete councell;
So manye bolde barons, there hertes as dull as lede;
So many nobyll bodyes vndyr on dawys hedd;
So royall a kyng as reynythe vppon vs all;—
Syns Dewcalions flodde was nevyr sene nor shall.
So many complayntes, and so smalle redresse;
So myche callyng on, and so smalle takyng hede;
So myche losse of merchaundyse, and so remedyles;
So lytell care for the comyn weall, and so myche nede;
So myche dowȝtfull daunger, and so lytell drede;
So myche pride of prelattes, so cruell and so kene;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde, I trowe, was nevyr sene.
So myche callyng on, and so smalle takyng hede;
So myche losse of merchaundyse, and so remedyles;
272
So myche dowȝtfull daunger, and so lytell drede;
So myche pride of prelattes, so cruell and so kene;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde, I trowe, was nevyr sene.
So many thevys hangyd, and thevys never the lesse;
So myche prisonment ffor matyrs not worthe an hawe;
So myche papers weryng for ryghte a smalle exesse;
So myche pelory pajauntes vndyr colower of good lawe;
So myche towrnyng on the cooke stole for euery guy gaw;
So myche mokkyshe makyng of statutes of array;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde was nevyr, I dar sey.
So myche prisonment ffor matyrs not worthe an hawe;
So myche papers weryng for ryghte a smalle exesse;
So myche pelory pajauntes vndyr colower of good lawe;
So myche towrnyng on the cooke stole for euery guy gaw;
So myche mokkyshe makyng of statutes of array;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde was nevyr, I dar sey.
So braynles caluys hedes, so many shepis taylys;
So bolde a braggyng bocher, and flesshe sold so dere;
So many plucte partryches, and so fatte quaylles;
So mangye a mastyfe curre, the grete grey houndes pere;
So bygge a bulke of brow auntlers cabagyd that yere;
So many swannes dede, and so small revell;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde, I trow, no man can tell.
So bolde a braggyng bocher, and flesshe sold so dere;
So many plucte partryches, and so fatte quaylles;
So mangye a mastyfe curre, the grete grey houndes pere;
273
So many swannes dede, and so small revell;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde, I trow, no man can tell.
So many trusys takyn, and so lytyll perfyte trowthe;
So myche bely joye, and so wastefull banketyng;
So pynchyng and sparyng, and so lytell profyte growthe;
So many howgye howsys byldyng, and so small howseholding;
Suche statutes apon diettes, suche pyllyng and pollyng;
So ys all thyng wrowghte wylfully withowte reson and skylle;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde the world was never so yll.
So myche bely joye, and so wastefull banketyng;
So pynchyng and sparyng, and so lytell profyte growthe;
So many howgye howsys byldyng, and so small howseholding;
Suche statutes apon diettes, suche pyllyng and pollyng;
So ys all thyng wrowghte wylfully withowte reson and skylle;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde the world was never so yll.
So many vacabondes, so many beggers bolde;
So myche decay of monesteries and of relygious places;
So hote hatered agaynste the Chyrche, and cheryte so colde;
So myche of my lordes grace, and in hym no grace ys;
So many holow hartes, and so dowbyll faces;
So myche sayntuary brekyng, and preuylegidde barrydd;—
Syns Dewcalyons flodde was nevyr sene nor lyerd.
So myche decay of monesteries and of relygious places;
So hote hatered agaynste the Chyrche, and cheryte so colde;
So myche of my lordes grace, and in hym no grace ys;
So many holow hartes, and so dowbyll faces;
274
Syns Dewcalyons flodde was nevyr sene nor lyerd.
So myche raggyd ryghte of a rammes horne;
So rygorous revelyng in a prelate specially;
So bold and so braggyng, and was so baselye borne;
So lordlye of hys lokes and so dysdayneslye;
So fatte a magott, bred of a flesshe flye;
Was nevyr suche a ffylty gorgon, nor suche an epycure,
Syn[s] Dewcalyons flodde, I make thé faste and sure.
So rygorous revelyng in a prelate specially;
So bold and so braggyng, and was so baselye borne;
So lordlye of hys lokes and so dysdayneslye;
So fatte a magott, bred of a flesshe flye;
Was nevyr suche a ffylty gorgon, nor suche an epycure,
Syn[s] Dewcalyons flodde, I make thé faste and sure.
So myche preuye wachyng in cold wynters nyghtes;
So myche serchyng of loselles, and ys hymselfe so lewde;
So myche coniuracions for elvyshe myday sprettes;
So many bullys of pardon puplysshyd and shewyd;
So myche crossyng and blyssyng, and hym all beshrewde;
Suche pollaxis and pyllers, suche mvlys trapte with gold;—
Sens Dewcalyons flodde in no cronycle ys told.
So myche serchyng of loselles, and ys hymselfe so lewde;
So myche coniuracions for elvyshe myday sprettes;
So many bullys of pardon puplysshyd and shewyd;
So myche crossyng and blyssyng, and hym all beshrewde;
Suche pollaxis and pyllers, suche mvlys trapte with gold;—
Sens Dewcalyons flodde in no cronycle ys told.
275
Dixit, quod Parrot.
Crescet in immensum me vivo Psittacus iste;
Hinc mea dicetur Skeltonidis inclyta fama. Quod Skelton Lawryat,
Orator Regius. 34.]
276
HERE AFTER FOLOWETH A LYTELL BOKE, WHICHE HATH TO NAME WHY COME YE NAT TO COURTE?
COMPYLED BY MAYSTER SKELTON, POETE LAUREATE.
The relucent mirror for all Prelats and Presidents, as well spirituall as temporall, sadly to loke vpon, deuised in English by Skelton.
All noble men, of this take hede,
And beleue it as your Crede.
And beleue it as your Crede.
To hasty of sentence,
To ferce for none offence,
To scarce of your expence,
To large in neglygence,
To slacke in recompence,
To haute in excellence,
To lyght [in] intellegence,
And to lyght in credence;
Where these kepe resydence,
Reson is banysshed thence,
And also dame Prudence,
With sober Sapyence.
All noble men, of this take hede,
And beleue it as your Crede.
To ferce for none offence,
To scarce of your expence,
To large in neglygence,
To slacke in recompence,
To haute in excellence,
277
And to lyght in credence;
Where these kepe resydence,
Reson is banysshed thence,
And also dame Prudence,
With sober Sapyence.
All noble men, of this take hede,
And beleue it as your Crede.
Than without collusyon,
Marke well this conclusyon,
Thorow suche abusyon,
And by suche illusyon,
Vnto great confusyon
A noble man may fall,
And his honour appall;
And yf ye thynke this shall
Not rubbe you on the gall,
Than the deuyll take all!
All noble men, of this take hede,
And beleue it as your Crede.
Hœc vates ille,
De quo loquuntur mille.
Marke well this conclusyon,
Thorow suche abusyon,
And by suche illusyon,
Vnto great confusyon
A noble man may fall,
And his honour appall;
And yf ye thynke this shall
Not rubbe you on the gall,
Than the deuyll take all!
All noble men, of this take hede,
And beleue it as your Crede.
Hœc vates ille,
De quo loquuntur mille.
WHY COME YE NAT TO COURT?
For age is a page
For the courte full vnmete,
For age cannat rage,
Nor basse her swete swete:
But whan age seeth that rage
Dothe aswage and refrayne,
Than wyll age haue a corage
To come to court agayne.
For the courte full vnmete,
For age cannat rage,
Nor basse her swete swete:
278
Dothe aswage and refrayne,
Than wyll age haue a corage
To come to court agayne.
But
Helas, sage ouerageSo madly decayes,
That age for dottage
Is reconed now adayes:
Thus age (a graunt domage)
Is nothynge set by,
And rage in arerage
Dothe rynne lamentably.
So
That rage must make pyllage,To catche that catche may,
And with suche forage
Hunte the boskage,
That hartes wyll ronne away;
Bothe hartes and hyndes,
With all good myndes:
Fare well, than, haue good day!
Than, haue good daye, adewe!
For defaute of rescew,
Some men may happely rew,
And some theyr hedes mew;
The tyme dothe fast ensew,
That bales begynne to brew:
I drede, by swete Iesu,
This tale wyll be to trew;
In faythe, dycken, thou krew,
In fayth, dicken, thou krew, &c.
For defaute of rescew,
Some men may happely rew,
And some theyr hedes mew;
The tyme dothe fast ensew,
That bales begynne to brew:
I drede, by swete Iesu,
This tale wyll be to trew;
279
In fayth, dicken, thou krew, &c.
Dicken, thou krew doutlesse;
For, trewly to expresse,
There hath ben moche excesse,
With banketynge braynlesse,
With ryotynge rechelesse,
With gambaudynge thryftlesse,
With spende and wast witlesse,
Treatinge of trewse restlesse,
Pratynge for peace peaslesse.
The countrynge at Cales
Wrang vs on the males:
Chefe counselour was carlesse,
Gronynge, grouchyng, gracelesse;
And to none entente
Our talwod is all brent,
Our fagottes are all spent,
We may blowe at the cole:
Our mare hath cast her fole,
And Mocke hath lost her sho;
What may she do therto?
An ende of an olde song,
Do ryght and do no wronge,
As ryght as a rammes horne;
For thrifte is threde bare worne,
Our shepe are shrewdly shorne,
And trouthe is all to-torne;
Wysdom is laught to skorne,
Fauell is false forsworne,
Iauell is nobly borne,
Hauell and Haruy Hafter,
Iack Trauell and Cole Crafter,
We shall here more herafter;
With pollynge and shauynge,
With borowynge and crauynge,
With reuynge and rauynge,
With swerynge and starynge,
Ther vayleth no resonynge,
For wyll dothe rule all thynge,
Wyll, wyll, wyll, wyll, wyll,
He ruleth alway styll.
Good reason and good skyll,
They may garlycke pyll,
Cary sackes to the myll,
Or pescoddes they may shyll,
Or elles go rost a stone:
There is no man but one
That hathe the strokes alone;
Be it blacke or whight,
All that he dothe is ryght,
As right as a cammocke croked.
This byll well ouer loked,
Clerely perceuye we may
There went the hare away,
The hare, the fox, the gray,
The harte, the hynde, the buck:
God sende vs better luck!
God sende vs better lucke, &c.
For, trewly to expresse,
There hath ben moche excesse,
With banketynge braynlesse,
With ryotynge rechelesse,
With gambaudynge thryftlesse,
With spende and wast witlesse,
Treatinge of trewse restlesse,
Pratynge for peace peaslesse.
The countrynge at Cales
Wrang vs on the males:
Chefe counselour was carlesse,
Gronynge, grouchyng, gracelesse;
And to none entente
Our talwod is all brent,
Our fagottes are all spent,
We may blowe at the cole:
Our mare hath cast her fole,
And Mocke hath lost her sho;
What may she do therto?
An ende of an olde song,
Do ryght and do no wronge,
As ryght as a rammes horne;
For thrifte is threde bare worne,
Our shepe are shrewdly shorne,
And trouthe is all to-torne;
Wysdom is laught to skorne,
Fauell is false forsworne,
280
Hauell and Haruy Hafter,
Iack Trauell and Cole Crafter,
We shall here more herafter;
With pollynge and shauynge,
With borowynge and crauynge,
With reuynge and rauynge,
With swerynge and starynge,
Ther vayleth no resonynge,
For wyll dothe rule all thynge,
Wyll, wyll, wyll, wyll, wyll,
He ruleth alway styll.
Good reason and good skyll,
They may garlycke pyll,
Cary sackes to the myll,
Or pescoddes they may shyll,
Or elles go rost a stone:
There is no man but one
That hathe the strokes alone;
Be it blacke or whight,
All that he dothe is ryght,
As right as a cammocke croked.
This byll well ouer loked,
Clerely perceuye we may
There went the hare away,
The hare, the fox, the gray,
The harte, the hynde, the buck:
God sende vs better luck!
God sende vs better lucke, &c.
Twit, Andrewe, twit, Scot,
Ge heme, ge scour thy pot;
For we haue spente our shot:
We shall haue a tot quot
From the Pope of Rome,
To weue all in one lome
A webbe of lylse wulse,
Opus male dulce:
The deuyll kysse his cule!
For, whyles he doth rule,
All is warse and warse;
The deuyll kysse his arse!
For whether he blesse or curse,
It can not be moche worse.
From Baumberow to Bothombar
We haue cast vp our war,
And made a worthy trewse,
With, gup, leuell suse!
Our mony madly lent,
And mor madly spent:
From Croydon to Kent,
Wote ye whyther they went?
From Wynchelsey to Rye,
And all nat worth a flye;
From Wentbridge to Hull;
Our armye waxeth dull,
With, tourne all home agayne,
And neuer a Scot slayne.
Yet the good Erle of Surray,
The Frenche men he doth fray,
And vexeth them day by day
With all the power he may;
The French men he hath faynted,
And made theyr hertes attaynted:
Of cheualry he is the floure;
Our Lorde be his soccoure!
The French men he hathe so mated,
And theyr courage abated,
That they are but halfe men;
Lyke foxes in theyr denne,
Lyke cankerd cowardes all,
Lyke vrcheons in a stone wall,
They kepe them in theyr holdes,
Lyke henherted cokoldes.
Ge heme, ge scour thy pot;
281
We shall haue a tot quot
From the Pope of Rome,
To weue all in one lome
A webbe of lylse wulse,
Opus male dulce:
The deuyll kysse his cule!
For, whyles he doth rule,
All is warse and warse;
The deuyll kysse his arse!
For whether he blesse or curse,
It can not be moche worse.
From Baumberow to Bothombar
We haue cast vp our war,
And made a worthy trewse,
With, gup, leuell suse!
Our mony madly lent,
And mor madly spent:
From Croydon to Kent,
Wote ye whyther they went?
From Wynchelsey to Rye,
And all nat worth a flye;
From Wentbridge to Hull;
Our armye waxeth dull,
With, tourne all home agayne,
And neuer a Scot slayne.
Yet the good Erle of Surray,
The Frenche men he doth fray,
And vexeth them day by day
With all the power he may;
282
And made theyr hertes attaynted:
Of cheualry he is the floure;
Our Lorde be his soccoure!
The French men he hathe so mated,
And theyr courage abated,
That they are but halfe men;
Lyke foxes in theyr denne,
Lyke cankerd cowardes all,
Lyke vrcheons in a stone wall,
They kepe them in theyr holdes,
Lyke henherted cokoldes.
But yet they ouer shote vs
Wyth crownes and wyth scutus;
With scutis and crownes of gold
I drede we are bought and solde;
It is a wonders warke:
They shote all at one marke,
At the Cardynals hat,
They shote all at that;
Oute of theyr stronge townes
They shote at him with crownes;
With crownes of golde enblased
They make him so amased,
And his eyen so dased,
That he ne se can
To know God nor man.
He is set so hye
In his ierarchy
Of frantycke frenesy
And folysshe fantasy,
That in the Chambre of Starres
All maters there he marres;
Clappyng his rod on the borde,
No man dare speke a worde,
For he hathe all the sayenge,
Without any renayenge;
He rolleth in his recordes,
He sayth, How saye ye, my lordes?
Is nat my reason good?
Good euyn, good Robyn Hood!
Some say yes, and some
Syt styll as they were dom:
Thus thwartyng ouer thom,
He ruleth all the roste
With braggynge and with bost;
Borne vp on euery syde
With pompe and with pryde,
With, trompe vp, alleluya!
For dame Philargerya
Hathe so his herte in holde,
He loueth nothyng but golde;
And Asmodeus of hell
Maketh his membres swell
With Dalyda to mell,
That wanton damosell.
Adew, Philosophia,
Adew, Theologia!
Welcome, dame Simonia,
With dame Castrimergia,
To drynke and for to eate
Swete ypocras and swete meate!
To kepe his flesshe chast,
In Lent for a repast
He eateth capons stewed,
Fesaunt and partriche mewed,
Hennes, checkynges, and pygges;
He foynes and he frygges,
Spareth neither mayde ne wyfe:
This is a postels lyfe!
Wyth crownes and wyth scutus;
With scutis and crownes of gold
I drede we are bought and solde;
It is a wonders warke:
They shote all at one marke,
At the Cardynals hat,
They shote all at that;
Oute of theyr stronge townes
They shote at him with crownes;
With crownes of golde enblased
They make him so amased,
And his eyen so dased,
That he ne se can
To know God nor man.
He is set so hye
In his ierarchy
Of frantycke frenesy
283
That in the Chambre of Starres
All maters there he marres;
Clappyng his rod on the borde,
No man dare speke a worde,
For he hathe all the sayenge,
Without any renayenge;
He rolleth in his recordes,
He sayth, How saye ye, my lordes?
Is nat my reason good?
Good euyn, good Robyn Hood!
Some say yes, and some
Syt styll as they were dom:
Thus thwartyng ouer thom,
He ruleth all the roste
With braggynge and with bost;
Borne vp on euery syde
With pompe and with pryde,
With, trompe vp, alleluya!
For dame Philargerya
Hathe so his herte in holde,
He loueth nothyng but golde;
And Asmodeus of hell
Maketh his membres swell
With Dalyda to mell,
That wanton damosell.
Adew, Philosophia,
Adew, Theologia!
Welcome, dame Simonia,
With dame Castrimergia,
284
Swete ypocras and swete meate!
To kepe his flesshe chast,
In Lent for a repast
He eateth capons stewed,
Fesaunt and partriche mewed,
Hennes, checkynges, and pygges;
He foynes and he frygges,
Spareth neither mayde ne wyfe:
This is a postels lyfe!
Helas! my herte is sory
To tell of vayne glory:
But now vpon this story
I wyll no further ryme
Tyll another tyme,
Tyll another tyme, &c.
To tell of vayne glory:
But now vpon this story
I wyll no further ryme
Tyll another tyme,
Tyll another tyme, &c.
What newes, what newes?
Small newes the true is,
That be worth ii. kues;
But at the naked stewes,
I vnderstande how that
The sygne of the Cardynall Hat,
That inne is now shyt vp,
With, gup, hore, gup, now gup,
Gup, Guilliam Trauillian,
With, iast you, I say, Jullian!
Wyll ye bere no coles?
A mayny of marefoles,
That occupy theyr holys,
Full of pocky molys.
Small newes the true is,
That be worth ii. kues;
But at the naked stewes,
I vnderstande how that
The sygne of the Cardynall Hat,
That inne is now shyt vp,
With, gup, hore, gup, now gup,
Gup, Guilliam Trauillian,
With, iast you, I say, Jullian!
Wyll ye bere no coles?
A mayny of marefoles,
That occupy theyr holys,
Full of pocky molys.
285
What here ye of Lancashyre?
They were nat payde their hyre;
They are fel as any fyre.
They were nat payde their hyre;
They are fel as any fyre.
What here ye of Chesshyre?
They haue layde all in the myre;
They grugyd, and sayde
Theyr wages were nat payde;
Some sayde they were afrayde
Of the Scottysshe hoste,
For all theyr crack and bost,
Wylde fyre and thonder;
For all this worldly wonder,
A hundred myle asonder
They were whan they were next;
That is a trew text.
They haue layde all in the myre;
They grugyd, and sayde
Theyr wages were nat payde;
Some sayde they were afrayde
Of the Scottysshe hoste,
For all theyr crack and bost,
Wylde fyre and thonder;
For all this worldly wonder,
A hundred myle asonder
They were whan they were next;
That is a trew text.
What here ye of the Scottes?
They make vs all sottes,
Poppynge folysshe dawes;
They make vs to pyll strawes;
They play their olde pranckes,
After Huntley bankes:
At the streme of Banockes burne
They dyd vs a shrewde turne,
Whan Edwarde of Karnaruan
Lost all that his father wan.
They make vs all sottes,
Poppynge folysshe dawes;
They make vs to pyll strawes;
They play their olde pranckes,
After Huntley bankes:
At the streme of Banockes burne
They dyd vs a shrewde turne,
Whan Edwarde of Karnaruan
Lost all that his father wan.
What here ye of the Lorde Dakers?
He maketh vs Jacke Rakers;
He sayes we ar but crakers;
He calleth vs England men
Stronge herted lyke an hen;
For the Scottes and he
To well they do agre,
With, do thou for me,
And I shall do for thé.
Whyles the red hat doth endure,
He maketh himselfe cock sure;
The red hat with his lure
Bryngeth all thynges vnder cure.
He maketh vs Jacke Rakers;
He sayes we ar but crakers;
He calleth vs England men
Stronge herted lyke an hen;
286
To well they do agre,
With, do thou for me,
And I shall do for thé.
Whyles the red hat doth endure,
He maketh himselfe cock sure;
The red hat with his lure
Bryngeth all thynges vnder cure.
But, as the worlde now gose,
What here ye of the Lorde Rose?
Nothynge to purpose,
Nat worth a cockly fose:
Their hertes be in thyr hose.
The Erle of Northumberlande
Dare take nothynge on hande:
Our barons be so bolde,
Into a mouse hole they wolde
Rynne away and crepe;
Lyke a mayny of shepe,
Dare nat loke out at dur
For drede of the mastyue cur,
For drede of the bochers dogge
Wold wyrry them lyke an hogge.
What here ye of the Lorde Rose?
Nothynge to purpose,
Nat worth a cockly fose:
Their hertes be in thyr hose.
The Erle of Northumberlande
Dare take nothynge on hande:
Our barons be so bolde,
Into a mouse hole they wolde
Rynne away and crepe;
Lyke a mayny of shepe,
Dare nat loke out at dur
For drede of the mastyue cur,
For drede of the bochers dogge
Wold wyrry them lyke an hogge.
For and this curre do gnar,
They must stande all a far,
To holde vp their hande at the bar.
For all their noble blode
He pluckes them by the hode,
And shakes them by the eare,
And brynge[s] them in suche feare;
He bayteth them lyke a bere,
Lyke an oxe or a bull:
Theyr wyttes, he saith, are dull;
He sayth they haue no brayne
Theyr astate to mayntayne;
And maketh them to bow theyr kne
Before his maieste.
Juges of the kynges lawes,
He countys them foles and dawes;
Sergyantes of the coyfe eke,
He sayth they are to seke
In pletynge of theyr case
At the Commune Place,
Or at the Kynges Benche;
He wryngeth them suche a wrenche,
That all our lerned men
Dare nat set theyr penne
To plete a trew tryall
Within Westmynster hall;
In the Chauncery where he syttes,
But suche as he admyttes
None so hardy to speke;
He sayth, thou huddy peke,
Thy lernynge is to lewde,
Thy tonge is nat well thewde,
To seke before our grace;
And openly in that place
He rages and he raues,
And cals them cankerd knaues;
Thus royally he dothe deale
Vnder the kynges brode seale;
And in the Checker he them cheks;
In the Ster Chambre he noddis and beks,
And bereth him there so stowte,
That no man dare rowte,
Duke, erle, baron, nor lorde,
But to his sentence must accorde;
Whether he be knyght or squyre,
All men must folow his desyre.
They must stande all a far,
To holde vp their hande at the bar.
For all their noble blode
He pluckes them by the hode,
And shakes them by the eare,
And brynge[s] them in suche feare;
287
Lyke an oxe or a bull:
Theyr wyttes, he saith, are dull;
He sayth they haue no brayne
Theyr astate to mayntayne;
And maketh them to bow theyr kne
Before his maieste.
Juges of the kynges lawes,
He countys them foles and dawes;
Sergyantes of the coyfe eke,
He sayth they are to seke
In pletynge of theyr case
At the Commune Place,
Or at the Kynges Benche;
He wryngeth them suche a wrenche,
That all our lerned men
Dare nat set theyr penne
To plete a trew tryall
Within Westmynster hall;
In the Chauncery where he syttes,
But suche as he admyttes
None so hardy to speke;
He sayth, thou huddy peke,
Thy lernynge is to lewde,
Thy tonge is nat well thewde,
To seke before our grace;
And openly in that place
He rages and he raues,
And cals them cankerd knaues;
Thus royally he dothe deale
288
And in the Checker he them cheks;
In the Ster Chambre he noddis and beks,
And bereth him there so stowte,
That no man dare rowte,
Duke, erle, baron, nor lorde,
But to his sentence must accorde;
Whether he be knyght or squyre,
All men must folow his desyre.
What say ye of the Scottysh kynge?
That is another thyng.
He is but an yonglyng,
A stalworthy stryplyng:
There is a whyspring and a whipling,
He shulde be hyder brought;
But, and it were well sought,
I trow all wyll be nought,
Nat worth a shyttel cocke,
Nor worth a sowre calstocke.
There goth many a lye
Of the Duke of Albany,
That of shulde go his hede,
And brought in quycke or dede,
And all Scotlande owers
The mountenaunce of two houres.
But, as some men sayne,
I drede of some false trayne
Subtelly wrought shall be
Vnder a fayned treatee;
But within monethes thre
Men may happely se
The trechery and the prankes
Of the Scottysshe bankes.
That is another thyng.
He is but an yonglyng,
A stalworthy stryplyng:
There is a whyspring and a whipling,
He shulde be hyder brought;
But, and it were well sought,
I trow all wyll be nought,
Nat worth a shyttel cocke,
Nor worth a sowre calstocke.
There goth many a lye
Of the Duke of Albany,
That of shulde go his hede,
And brought in quycke or dede,
And all Scotlande owers
The mountenaunce of two houres.
But, as some men sayne,
I drede of some false trayne
Subtelly wrought shall be
Vnder a fayned treatee;
But within monethes thre
289
The trechery and the prankes
Of the Scottysshe bankes.
What here ye of Burgonyons,
And the Spainyardes onyons?
They haue slain our Englisshmen
Aboue threscore and ten:
For all your amyte,
No better they agre.
And the Spainyardes onyons?
They haue slain our Englisshmen
Aboue threscore and ten:
For all your amyte,
No better they agre.
God saue my lorde admyrell!
What here ye of Mutrell?
There with I dare nat mell.
What here ye of Mutrell?
There with I dare nat mell.
Yet what here ye tell
Of our graunde counsell?
I coulde say some what,
But speke ye no more of that,
For drede of the red hat
Take peper in the nose;
For than thyne heed of gose,
Of by the harde arse.
But there is some trauarse
Bytwene some and some,
That makys our syre to glum;
It is some what wronge,
That his berde is so longe;
He morneth in blacke clothynge.
I pray God saue the kynge!
Where euer he go or ryde,
I pray God be his gyde!
Thus wyll I conclude my style,
And fall to rest a whyle,
And so to rest a whyle, &c.
Of our graunde counsell?
I coulde say some what,
But speke ye no more of that,
For drede of the red hat
Take peper in the nose;
For than thyne heed of gose,
Of by the harde arse.
But there is some trauarse
Bytwene some and some,
That makys our syre to glum;
It is some what wronge,
That his berde is so longe;
He morneth in blacke clothynge.
I pray God saue the kynge!
Where euer he go or ryde,
I pray God be his gyde!
290
And fall to rest a whyle,
And so to rest a whyle, &c.
Ones yet agayne
Of you I wolde frayne,
Why come ye nat to court?—
To whyche court?
To the kynges courte,
Or to Hampton Court?—
Nay, to the kynges court:
The kynges courte
Shulde haue the excellence;
But Hampton Court
Hath the preemynence,
And Yorkes Place,
With my lordes grace,
To whose magnifycence
Is all the conflewence,
Sutys and supplycacyons,
Embassades of all nacyons.
Strawe for lawe canon,
Or for the lawe common,
Or for lawe cyuyll!
It shall be as he wyll:
Stop at law tancrete,
An obstract or a concrete;
Be it soure, be it swete,
His wysdome is so dyscrete,
That in a fume or an hete,
Wardeyn of the Flete,
Set hym fast by the fete!
And of his royall powre
Whan him lyst to lowre,
Than, haue him to the Towre,
Saunz aulter remedy,
Haue hym forthe by and by
To the Marshalsy,
Or to the Kynges Benche!
He dyggeth so in the trenche
Of the court royall,
That he ruleth them all.
So he dothe vndermynde,
And suche sleyghtes dothe fynde,
That the kynges mynde
By hym is subuerted,
And so streatly coarted
In credensynge his tales,
That all is but nutshales
That any other sayth;
He hath in him suche fayth.
Of you I wolde frayne,
Why come ye nat to court?—
To whyche court?
To the kynges courte,
Or to Hampton Court?—
Nay, to the kynges court:
The kynges courte
Shulde haue the excellence;
But Hampton Court
Hath the preemynence,
And Yorkes Place,
With my lordes grace,
To whose magnifycence
Is all the conflewence,
Sutys and supplycacyons,
Embassades of all nacyons.
Strawe for lawe canon,
Or for the lawe common,
Or for lawe cyuyll!
It shall be as he wyll:
Stop at law tancrete,
An obstract or a concrete;
Be it soure, be it swete,
His wysdome is so dyscrete,
That in a fume or an hete,
Wardeyn of the Flete,
Set hym fast by the fete!
291
Whan him lyst to lowre,
Than, haue him to the Towre,
Saunz aulter remedy,
Haue hym forthe by and by
To the Marshalsy,
Or to the Kynges Benche!
He dyggeth so in the trenche
Of the court royall,
That he ruleth them all.
So he dothe vndermynde,
And suche sleyghtes dothe fynde,
That the kynges mynde
By hym is subuerted,
And so streatly coarted
In credensynge his tales,
That all is but nutshales
That any other sayth;
He hath in him suche fayth.
Now, yet all this myght be
Suffred and taken in gre,
If that that he wrought
To any good ende were brought;
But all he bringeth to nought,
By God, that me dere bought!
He bereth the kyng on hand,
That he must pyll his lande,
To make his cofers ryche;
But he laythe all in the dyche,
And vseth suche abusyoun,
That in the conclusyoun
All commeth to confusyon.
Perceyue the cause why,
To tell the trouth playnly,
He is so ambicyous,
So shamles, and so vicyous,
And so supersticyous,
And so moche obliuyous
From whens that he came,
That he falleth into a cæciam,
Whiche, truly to expresse,
Is a forgetfulnesse,
Or wylfull blyndnesse,
Wherwith the Sodomites
Lost theyr inward syghtes,
The Gommoryans also
Were brought to deedly wo,
As Scrypture recordis:
A cœcitate cordis,
In the Latyne synge we,
Libera nos, Domine!
Suffred and taken in gre,
If that that he wrought
To any good ende were brought;
But all he bringeth to nought,
By God, that me dere bought!
He bereth the kyng on hand,
That he must pyll his lande,
To make his cofers ryche;
But he laythe all in the dyche,
And vseth suche abusyoun,
292
All commeth to confusyon.
Perceyue the cause why,
To tell the trouth playnly,
He is so ambicyous,
So shamles, and so vicyous,
And so supersticyous,
And so moche obliuyous
From whens that he came,
That he falleth into a cæciam,
Whiche, truly to expresse,
Is a forgetfulnesse,
Or wylfull blyndnesse,
Wherwith the Sodomites
Lost theyr inward syghtes,
The Gommoryans also
Were brought to deedly wo,
As Scrypture recordis:
A cœcitate cordis,
In the Latyne synge we,
Libera nos, Domine!
But this madde Amalecke,
Lyke to a Mamelek,
He regardeth lordes
No more than potshordes;
He is in suche elacyon
Of his exaltacyon,
And the supportacyon
Of our souerayne lorde,
That, God to recorde,
He ruleth all at wyll,
Without reason or skyll:
How be it the primordyall
Of his wretched originall,
And his base progeny,
And his gresy genealogy,
He came of the sank royall,
That was cast out of a bochers stall.
Lyke to a Mamelek,
He regardeth lordes
No more than potshordes;
He is in suche elacyon
Of his exaltacyon,
And the supportacyon
Of our souerayne lorde,
That, God to recorde,
293
Without reason or skyll:
How be it the primordyall
Of his wretched originall,
And his base progeny,
And his gresy genealogy,
He came of the sank royall,
That was cast out of a bochers stall.
But how euer he was borne,
Men wolde haue the lesse scorne,
If he coulde consyder
His byrth and rowme togeder,
And call to his mynde
How noble and how kynde
To him he hathe founde
Our souereyne lorde, chyfe grounde
Of all this prelacy,
And set hym nobly
In great auctoryte,
Out from a low degre,
Whiche he can nat se:
For he was parde
No doctor of deuinyte,
Nor doctor of the law,
Nor of none other saw;
But a poore maister of arte,
God wot, had lytell parte
Of the quatriuials,
Nor yet of triuialis,
Nor of philosophy,
Nor of philology,
Nor of good pollycy,
Nor of astronomy,
Nor acquaynted worth a fly
With honorable Haly,
Nor with royall Ptholomy,
Nor with Albumasar,
To treate of any star
Fyxt or els mobyll;
His Latyne tonge dothe hobbyll,
He doth but cloute and cobbill
In Tullis faculte,
Called humanyte;
Yet proudly he dare pretende
How no man can him amende:
But haue ye nat harde this,
How an one eyed man is
Well syghted when
He is amonge blynde men?
Men wolde haue the lesse scorne,
If he coulde consyder
His byrth and rowme togeder,
And call to his mynde
How noble and how kynde
To him he hathe founde
Our souereyne lorde, chyfe grounde
Of all this prelacy,
And set hym nobly
In great auctoryte,
Out from a low degre,
Whiche he can nat se:
For he was parde
No doctor of deuinyte,
Nor doctor of the law,
Nor of none other saw;
But a poore maister of arte,
God wot, had lytell parte
Of the quatriuials,
Nor yet of triuialis,
Nor of philosophy,
294
Nor of good pollycy,
Nor of astronomy,
Nor acquaynted worth a fly
With honorable Haly,
Nor with royall Ptholomy,
Nor with Albumasar,
To treate of any star
Fyxt or els mobyll;
His Latyne tonge dothe hobbyll,
He doth but cloute and cobbill
In Tullis faculte,
Called humanyte;
Yet proudly he dare pretende
How no man can him amende:
But haue ye nat harde this,
How an one eyed man is
Well syghted when
He is amonge blynde men?
Than, our processe for to stable,
This man was full vnable
To reche to suche degre,
Had nat our prynce be
Royall Henry the eyght,
Take him in suche conceyght,
That he set him on heyght,
In exemplyfyenge
Great Alexander the kynge,
In writynge as we fynde;
Whiche of his royall mynde,
And of his noble pleasure,
Transcendynge out of mesure,
Thought to do a thynge
That perteyneth to a kynge,
To make vp one of nought,
And made to him be brought
A wretched poore man,
Whiche his lyuenge wan
With plantyng of lekes
By the dayes and by the wekes,
And of this poore vassall
He made a kynge royall,
And gaue him a realme to rule,
That occupyed a showell,
A mattoke, and a spade,
Before that he was made
A kynge, as I haue tolde,
And ruled as he wolde.
Suche is a kynges power,
To make within an hower,
And worke suche a myracle,
That shall be a spectacle
Of renowme and worldly fame:
In lykewyse now the same
Cardynall is promoted,
Yet with lewde condicyons cotyd,
As herafter ben notyd,
Presumcyon and vayne glory,
Enuy, wrath, and lechery,
Couetys and glotony,
Slouthfull to do good,
Now frantick, now starke wode.
This man was full vnable
To reche to suche degre,
Had nat our prynce be
Royall Henry the eyght,
Take him in suche conceyght,
That he set him on heyght,
In exemplyfyenge
Great Alexander the kynge,
In writynge as we fynde;
Whiche of his royall mynde,
295
Transcendynge out of mesure,
Thought to do a thynge
That perteyneth to a kynge,
To make vp one of nought,
And made to him be brought
A wretched poore man,
Whiche his lyuenge wan
With plantyng of lekes
By the dayes and by the wekes,
And of this poore vassall
He made a kynge royall,
And gaue him a realme to rule,
That occupyed a showell,
A mattoke, and a spade,
Before that he was made
A kynge, as I haue tolde,
And ruled as he wolde.
Suche is a kynges power,
To make within an hower,
And worke suche a myracle,
That shall be a spectacle
Of renowme and worldly fame:
In lykewyse now the same
Cardynall is promoted,
Yet with lewde condicyons cotyd,
As herafter ben notyd,
Presumcyon and vayne glory,
Enuy, wrath, and lechery,
Couetys and glotony,
296
Now frantick, now starke wode.
Shulde this man of suche mode
Rule the swerde of myght,
How can he do ryght?
For he wyll as sone smyght
His frende as his fo;
A prouerbe longe ago.
Rule the swerde of myght,
How can he do ryght?
For he wyll as sone smyght
His frende as his fo;
A prouerbe longe ago.
Set vp a wretche on hye
In a trone triumphantlye,
Make him a great astate,
And he wyll play checke mate
With ryall maieste,
Counte him selfe as good as he;
A prelate potencyall,
To rule vnder Bellyall,
As ferce and as cruell
As the fynd of hell.
His seruauntes menyall
He dothe reuyle, and brall,
Lyke Mahounde in a play;
No man dare him withsay:
He hath dispyght and scorne
At them that be well borne;
He rebukes them and rayles,
Ye horsons, ye vassayles,
Ye knaues, ye churles sonnys,
Ye rebads, nat worth two plummis,
Ye raynbetyn beggers reiagged,
Ye recrayed ruffyns all ragged!
With, stowpe, thou hauell,
Rynne, thou iauell!
Thou peuysshe pye pecked,
Thou losell longe necked!
Thus dayly they be decked,
Taunted and checked,
That they ar so wo,
That wot not whether to go.
In a trone triumphantlye,
Make him a great astate,
And he wyll play checke mate
With ryall maieste,
Counte him selfe as good as he;
A prelate potencyall,
To rule vnder Bellyall,
As ferce and as cruell
As the fynd of hell.
His seruauntes menyall
He dothe reuyle, and brall,
Lyke Mahounde in a play;
No man dare him withsay:
He hath dispyght and scorne
At them that be well borne;
He rebukes them and rayles,
Ye horsons, ye vassayles,
Ye knaues, ye churles sonnys,
Ye rebads, nat worth two plummis,
Ye raynbetyn beggers reiagged,
Ye recrayed ruffyns all ragged!
297
Rynne, thou iauell!
Thou peuysshe pye pecked,
Thou losell longe necked!
Thus dayly they be decked,
Taunted and checked,
That they ar so wo,
That wot not whether to go.
No man dare come to the speche
Of this gentell Iacke breche,
Of what estate he be,
Of spirituall dygnyte,
Nor duke of hye degre,
Nor marques, erle, nor lorde;
Whiche shrewdly doth accorde,
Thus he borne so base
All noble men shulde out face,
His countynaunce lyke a kayser.
My lorde is nat at layser;
Syr, ye must tary a stounde,
Tyll better layser be founde;
And, syr, ye must daunce attendaunce,
And take pacient sufferaunce,
For my lordes grace
Hath nowe no tyme nor space
To speke with you as yet.
And thus they shall syt,
Chuse them syt or flyt,
Stande, walke, or ryde,
And his layser abyde
Parchaunce halfe a yere,
And yet neuer the nere.
Of this gentell Iacke breche,
Of what estate he be,
Of spirituall dygnyte,
Nor duke of hye degre,
Nor marques, erle, nor lorde;
Whiche shrewdly doth accorde,
Thus he borne so base
All noble men shulde out face,
His countynaunce lyke a kayser.
My lorde is nat at layser;
Syr, ye must tary a stounde,
Tyll better layser be founde;
And, syr, ye must daunce attendaunce,
And take pacient sufferaunce,
For my lordes grace
Hath nowe no tyme nor space
To speke with you as yet.
And thus they shall syt,
Chuse them syt or flyt,
Stande, walke, or ryde,
And his layser abyde
298
And yet neuer the nere.
This daungerous dowsypere,
Lyke a kynges pere;
And within this xvi. yere
He wolde haue ben ryght fayne
To haue ben a chapleyne,
And haue taken ryght gret payne
With a poore knyght,
What soeuer he hyght.
The chefe of his owne counsell,
They can nat well tell
Whan they with hym shulde mell,
He is so fyers and fell;
He rayles and he ratis,
He calleth them doddypatis;
He grynnes and he gapis,
As it were iack napis.
Suche a madde bedleme
For to rewle this reame,
It is a wonders case:
That the kynges grace
Is toward him so mynded,
And so farre blynded,
That he can nat parceyue
How he doth hym disceyue,
I dought, lest by sorsery,
Or suche other loselry,
As wychecraft, or charmyng;
For he is the kynges derlyng,
And his swete hart rote,
And is gouerned by this mad kote:
For what is a man the better
For the kynges letter?
For he wyll tere it asonder;
Wherat moche I wonder,
Howe suche a hoddypoule
So boldely dare controule,
And so malapertly withstande
The kynges owne hande,
And settys nat by it a myte;
He sayth the kynge doth wryte
And writeth he wottith nat what;
And yet for all that,
The kynge his clemency
Despensyth with his demensy.
Lyke a kynges pere;
And within this xvi. yere
He wolde haue ben ryght fayne
To haue ben a chapleyne,
And haue taken ryght gret payne
With a poore knyght,
What soeuer he hyght.
The chefe of his owne counsell,
They can nat well tell
Whan they with hym shulde mell,
He is so fyers and fell;
He rayles and he ratis,
He calleth them doddypatis;
He grynnes and he gapis,
As it were iack napis.
Suche a madde bedleme
For to rewle this reame,
It is a wonders case:
That the kynges grace
Is toward him so mynded,
And so farre blynded,
That he can nat parceyue
How he doth hym disceyue,
I dought, lest by sorsery,
Or suche other loselry,
As wychecraft, or charmyng;
For he is the kynges derlyng,
299
And is gouerned by this mad kote:
For what is a man the better
For the kynges letter?
For he wyll tere it asonder;
Wherat moche I wonder,
Howe suche a hoddypoule
So boldely dare controule,
And so malapertly withstande
The kynges owne hande,
And settys nat by it a myte;
He sayth the kynge doth wryte
And writeth he wottith nat what;
And yet for all that,
The kynge his clemency
Despensyth with his demensy.
But what his grace doth thinke,
I haue no pen nor inke
That therwith can mell;
But wele I can tell
How Frauncis Petrarke,
That moche noble clerke,
Wryteth how Charlemayn
Coude nat him selfe refrayne,
But was rauysht with a rage
Of a lyke dotage:
But how that came aboute,
Rede ye the story oute,
And ye shall fynde surely
It was by nycromansy,
By carectes and coniuracyon,
Vnder a certeyne constellacion,
And a certayne fumygacion,
Vnder a stone on a golde ryng,
Wrought to Charlemayn the king,
Whiche constrayned him forcebly
For to loue a certayne body
Aboue all other inordinatly.
This is no fable nor no lye;
At Acon it was brought to pas,
As by myne auctor tried it was.
But let mi masters mathematical
Tell you the rest, for me they shal;
They haue the full intellygence,
And dare vse the experyens,
In there obsolute consciens
To practyue suche abolete sciens;
For I abhore to smatter
Of one so deuyllysshe a matter.
I haue no pen nor inke
That therwith can mell;
But wele I can tell
How Frauncis Petrarke,
That moche noble clerke,
Wryteth how Charlemayn
Coude nat him selfe refrayne,
But was rauysht with a rage
Of a lyke dotage:
But how that came aboute,
Rede ye the story oute,
And ye shall fynde surely
It was by nycromansy,
300
Vnder a certeyne constellacion,
And a certayne fumygacion,
Vnder a stone on a golde ryng,
Wrought to Charlemayn the king,
Whiche constrayned him forcebly
For to loue a certayne body
Aboue all other inordinatly.
This is no fable nor no lye;
At Acon it was brought to pas,
As by myne auctor tried it was.
But let mi masters mathematical
Tell you the rest, for me they shal;
They haue the full intellygence,
And dare vse the experyens,
In there obsolute consciens
To practyue suche abolete sciens;
For I abhore to smatter
Of one so deuyllysshe a matter.
But I wyll make further relacion
Of this isagogicall colation,
How maister Gaguine, the crownycler
Of the feytis of war
That were done in Fraunce,
Maketh remembraunce,
How Kynge Lewes of late
Made vp a great astate
Of a poore wretchid man,
Wherof moche care began.
Iohannes Balua was his name,
Myne auctor writeth the same;
Promoted was he
To a cardynalles dygnyte
By Lewes the kyng aforesayd,
With hym so wele apayd,
That he made him his chauncelar
To make all or to mar,
And to rule as him lyst,
Tyll he cheked at the fyst,
And agayne all reason
Commyted open trayson
And against his lorde souerayn;
Wherfore he suffred payn,
Was hedyd, drawen, and quarterd,
And dyed stynkingly marterd.
Lo, yet for all that
He ware a cardynals hat,
In hym was small fayth,
As myne auctor sayth:
Nat for that I mene
Suche a casuelte shulde be sene,
Or suche chaunce shulde fall
Vnto our cardynall.
Of this isagogicall colation,
How maister Gaguine, the crownycler
Of the feytis of war
That were done in Fraunce,
Maketh remembraunce,
How Kynge Lewes of late
Made vp a great astate
Of a poore wretchid man,
Wherof moche care began.
Iohannes Balua was his name,
301
Promoted was he
To a cardynalles dygnyte
By Lewes the kyng aforesayd,
With hym so wele apayd,
That he made him his chauncelar
To make all or to mar,
And to rule as him lyst,
Tyll he cheked at the fyst,
And agayne all reason
Commyted open trayson
And against his lorde souerayn;
Wherfore he suffred payn,
Was hedyd, drawen, and quarterd,
And dyed stynkingly marterd.
Lo, yet for all that
He ware a cardynals hat,
In hym was small fayth,
As myne auctor sayth:
Nat for that I mene
Suche a casuelte shulde be sene,
Or suche chaunce shulde fall
Vnto our cardynall.
Allmyghty God, I trust,
Hath for him dyscust
That of force he must
Be faythfull, trew, and iust
To our most royall kynge,
Chefe rote of his makynge;
Yet it is a wyly mouse
That can bylde his dwellinge house
Within the cattes eare
Withouten drede or feare.
It is a nyce reconynge,
To put all the gouernynge,
All the rule of this lande
Into one mannys hande:
One wyse mannys hede
May stande somwhat in stede;
But the wyttys of many wyse
Moche better can deuyse,
By theyr cyrcumspection,
And theyr sad dyrrection,
To cause the commune weale
Longe to endure in heale.
Christ kepe King Henry the eyght
From trechery and dysceyght,
And graunt him grace to know
The faucon from the crow,
The wolfe from the lam,
From whens that mastyfe cam!
Let him neuer confounde
The gentyll greyhownde:
Of this matter the grownde
Is easy to expounde,
And soone may be perceyued,
How the worlde is conueyed.
Hath for him dyscust
That of force he must
Be faythfull, trew, and iust
To our most royall kynge,
302
Yet it is a wyly mouse
That can bylde his dwellinge house
Within the cattes eare
Withouten drede or feare.
It is a nyce reconynge,
To put all the gouernynge,
All the rule of this lande
Into one mannys hande:
One wyse mannys hede
May stande somwhat in stede;
But the wyttys of many wyse
Moche better can deuyse,
By theyr cyrcumspection,
And theyr sad dyrrection,
To cause the commune weale
Longe to endure in heale.
Christ kepe King Henry the eyght
From trechery and dysceyght,
And graunt him grace to know
The faucon from the crow,
The wolfe from the lam,
From whens that mastyfe cam!
Let him neuer confounde
The gentyll greyhownde:
Of this matter the grownde
Is easy to expounde,
And soone may be perceyued,
How the worlde is conueyed.
But harke, my frende, one worde
In ernest or in borde:
Tell me nowe in this stede
Is maister Mewtas dede,
The kynges Frenche secretary,
And his vntrew aduersary?
For he sent in writynge
To Fraunces the French kyng
Of our maisters counsel in eueri thing:
That was a peryllous rekenyng!—
Nay, nay, he is nat dede;
But he was so payned in the hede,
That he shall neuer ete more bred.
Now he is gone to another stede,
With a bull vnder lead,
By way of commissyon,
To a straunge iurisdictyon,
Called Dymingis Dale,
Farre byyonde Portyngale,
And hathe his pasport to pas
Ultra Sauromatas,
To the deuyll, syr Sathanas,
To Pluto, and syr Bellyall,
The deuyls vycare generall,
And to his college conuentuall,
As well calodemonyall
As to cacodemonyall,
To puruey for our cardynall
A palace pontifycall,
To kepe his court prouyncyall,
Vpon artycles iudicyall,
To contende and to stryue
For his prerogatyue,
Within that consystory
To make sommons peremtory
Before some prothonotory
Imperyall or papall.
Vpon this matter mistycall
I haue tolde you part, but nat all:
Herafter perchaunce I shall
Make a larger memoryall,
And a further rehersall,
And more paper I thinke to blot,
To the court why I cam not;
Desyring you aboue all thynge
To kepe you from laughynge
Whan ye fall to redynge
Of this wanton scrowle,
And pray for Mewtas sowle,
For he is well past and gone;
That wolde God euerychone
Of his affynyte
Were gone as well as he!
Amen, amen, say ye,
Of your inward charyte;
Amen,
Of your inward charyte.
In ernest or in borde:
303
Is maister Mewtas dede,
The kynges Frenche secretary,
And his vntrew aduersary?
For he sent in writynge
To Fraunces the French kyng
Of our maisters counsel in eueri thing:
That was a peryllous rekenyng!—
Nay, nay, he is nat dede;
But he was so payned in the hede,
That he shall neuer ete more bred.
Now he is gone to another stede,
With a bull vnder lead,
By way of commissyon,
To a straunge iurisdictyon,
Called Dymingis Dale,
Farre byyonde Portyngale,
And hathe his pasport to pas
Ultra Sauromatas,
To the deuyll, syr Sathanas,
To Pluto, and syr Bellyall,
The deuyls vycare generall,
And to his college conuentuall,
As well calodemonyall
As to cacodemonyall,
To puruey for our cardynall
A palace pontifycall,
To kepe his court prouyncyall,
Vpon artycles iudicyall,
To contende and to stryue
304
Within that consystory
To make sommons peremtory
Before some prothonotory
Imperyall or papall.
Vpon this matter mistycall
I haue tolde you part, but nat all:
Herafter perchaunce I shall
Make a larger memoryall,
And a further rehersall,
And more paper I thinke to blot,
To the court why I cam not;
Desyring you aboue all thynge
To kepe you from laughynge
Whan ye fall to redynge
Of this wanton scrowle,
And pray for Mewtas sowle,
For he is well past and gone;
That wolde God euerychone
Of his affynyte
Were gone as well as he!
Amen, amen, say ye,
Of your inward charyte;
Amen,
Of your inward charyte.
It were great rewth,
For wrytynge of trewth
Any man shulde be
In perplexyte
Of dyspleasure;
For I make you sure,
Where trouth is abhorde,
It is a playne recorde
That there wantys grace;
In whose place
Dothe occupy,
Full vngracyously,
Fals flatery,
Fals trechery,
Fals brybery,
Subtyle Sym Sly,
With madde foly;
For who can best lye,
He is best set by.
Than farewell to thé,
Welthfull felycite!
For prosperyte
Away than wyll fle.
Than must we agre
With pouerte;
For mysery,
With penury,
Myserably
And wretchydly
Hath made askrye
And outcry,
Folowynge the chase
To dryue away grace.
Yet sayst thou percase,
We can lacke no grace,
For my lordes grace,
And my ladies grace,
With trey duse ase,
And ase in the face,
Some haute and some base,
Some daunce the trace
Euer in one case:
Marke me that chase
In the tennys play,
For synke quater trey
Is a tall man:
He rod, but we ran,
Hay, the gye and the gan!
The gray gose is no swan;
The waters wax wan,
And beggers they ban,
And they cursed Datan,
De tribu Dan,
That this warke began,
Palam et clam,
With Balak and Balam,
The golden ram
Of Flemmyng dam,
Sem, Iapheth, or Cam.
For wrytynge of trewth
Any man shulde be
In perplexyte
Of dyspleasure;
305
Where trouth is abhorde,
It is a playne recorde
That there wantys grace;
In whose place
Dothe occupy,
Full vngracyously,
Fals flatery,
Fals trechery,
Fals brybery,
Subtyle Sym Sly,
With madde foly;
For who can best lye,
He is best set by.
Than farewell to thé,
Welthfull felycite!
For prosperyte
Away than wyll fle.
Than must we agre
With pouerte;
For mysery,
With penury,
Myserably
And wretchydly
Hath made askrye
And outcry,
Folowynge the chase
To dryue away grace.
Yet sayst thou percase,
We can lacke no grace,
306
And my ladies grace,
With trey duse ase,
And ase in the face,
Some haute and some base,
Some daunce the trace
Euer in one case:
Marke me that chase
In the tennys play,
For synke quater trey
Is a tall man:
He rod, but we ran,
Hay, the gye and the gan!
The gray gose is no swan;
The waters wax wan,
And beggers they ban,
And they cursed Datan,
De tribu Dan,
That this warke began,
Palam et clam,
With Balak and Balam,
The golden ram
Of Flemmyng dam,
Sem, Iapheth, or Cam.
But howe comme to pas,
Your cupboard that was
Is tourned to glasse,
From syluer to brasse,
From golde to pewter,
Or els to a newter,
To copper, to tyn,
To lede, or alcumyn?
A goldsmyth your mayre;
But the chefe of your fayre
Myght stande nowe by potters,
And suche as sell trotters:
Pytchars, potshordis,
This shrewdly accordis
To be a cupborde for lordys.
Your cupboard that was
Is tourned to glasse,
From syluer to brasse,
From golde to pewter,
Or els to a newter,
307
To lede, or alcumyn?
A goldsmyth your mayre;
But the chefe of your fayre
Myght stande nowe by potters,
And suche as sell trotters:
Pytchars, potshordis,
This shrewdly accordis
To be a cupborde for lordys.
My lorde now and syr knyght,
Good euyn and good nyght!
For now, syr Trestram,
Ye must weare bukram,
Or canues of Cane,
For sylkes are wane.
Our royals that shone,
Our nobles are gone
Amonge the Burgonyons,
And Spanyardes onyons,
And the Flanderkyns.
Gyll swetis, and Cate spynnys,
They are happy that wynnys;
But Englande may well say,
Fye on this wynnyng all way!
Now nothynge but pay, pay,
With, laughe and lay downe,
Borowgh, cyte, and towne.
Good euyn and good nyght!
For now, syr Trestram,
Ye must weare bukram,
Or canues of Cane,
For sylkes are wane.
Our royals that shone,
Our nobles are gone
Amonge the Burgonyons,
And Spanyardes onyons,
And the Flanderkyns.
Gyll swetis, and Cate spynnys,
They are happy that wynnys;
But Englande may well say,
Fye on this wynnyng all way!
Now nothynge but pay, pay,
With, laughe and lay downe,
Borowgh, cyte, and towne.
Good Sprynge of Lanam
Must counte what became
Of his clothe makynge:
He is at suche takynge,
Though his purse wax dull,
He must tax for his wull
By nature of a newe writ;
My lordys grace nameth it
A quia non satisfacit:
In the spyght of his tethe
He must pay agayne
A thousande or twayne
Of his golde in store;
And yet he payde before
An hunderd pounde and more,
Whiche pyncheth him sore.
My lordis grace wyll brynge
Downe this hye sprynge,
And brynge it so lowe,
It shall nat euer flowe.
Must counte what became
Of his clothe makynge:
308
Though his purse wax dull,
He must tax for his wull
By nature of a newe writ;
My lordys grace nameth it
A quia non satisfacit:
In the spyght of his tethe
He must pay agayne
A thousande or twayne
Of his golde in store;
And yet he payde before
An hunderd pounde and more,
Whiche pyncheth him sore.
My lordis grace wyll brynge
Downe this hye sprynge,
And brynge it so lowe,
It shall nat euer flowe.
Suche a prelate, I trowe,
Were worthy to rowe
Thorow the streytes of Marock
To the gybbet of Baldock:
He wolde dry vp the stremys
Of ix. kinges realmys,
All ryuers and wellys,
All waters that swellys;
For with vs he so mellys
That within Englande dwellys,
I wolde he were somwhere ellys;
For els by and by
He wyll drynke vs so drye,
And suck vs so nye,
That men shall scantly
Haue peny or halpeny.
God saue his noble grace,
And graunt him a place
Endlesse to dwell
With the deuyll of hell!
For, and he were there,
We nede neuer feere
Of the fendys blake:
For I vndertake
He wolde so brag and crake,
That he wolde than make
The deuyls to quake,
To shudder and to shake,
Lyke a fyer drake,
And with a cole rake
Brose them on a brake,
And bynde them to a stake,
And set hell on fyer,
At his owne desyer.
He is suche a grym syer,
And suche a potestolate,
And suche a potestate,
That he wolde breke the braynes
Of Lucyfer in his chaynes,
And rule them echone
In Lucyfers trone.
I wolde he were gone;
For amonge vs is none
That ruleth but he alone,
Without all good reason,
And all out of season:
For Folam peason
With him be nat geson;
They growwe very ranke
Vpon euery banke
Of his herbers grene,
With my lady bryght and shene;
On theyr game it is sene
They play nat all clene,
And it be as I wene.
Were worthy to rowe
Thorow the streytes of Marock
To the gybbet of Baldock:
He wolde dry vp the stremys
Of ix. kinges realmys,
All ryuers and wellys,
All waters that swellys;
For with vs he so mellys
That within Englande dwellys,
I wolde he were somwhere ellys;
For els by and by
He wyll drynke vs so drye,
309
That men shall scantly
Haue peny or halpeny.
God saue his noble grace,
And graunt him a place
Endlesse to dwell
With the deuyll of hell!
For, and he were there,
We nede neuer feere
Of the fendys blake:
For I vndertake
He wolde so brag and crake,
That he wolde than make
The deuyls to quake,
To shudder and to shake,
Lyke a fyer drake,
And with a cole rake
Brose them on a brake,
And bynde them to a stake,
And set hell on fyer,
At his owne desyer.
He is suche a grym syer,
And suche a potestolate,
And suche a potestate,
That he wolde breke the braynes
Of Lucyfer in his chaynes,
And rule them echone
In Lucyfers trone.
I wolde he were gone;
For amonge vs is none
310
Without all good reason,
And all out of season:
For Folam peason
With him be nat geson;
They growwe very ranke
Vpon euery banke
Of his herbers grene,
With my lady bryght and shene;
On theyr game it is sene
They play nat all clene,
And it be as I wene.
But as touchynge dyscrecyon,
With sober dyrectyon,
He kepeth them in subiectyon:
They can haue no protectyon
To rule nor to guyde,
But all must be tryde,
And abyde the correctyon
Of his wylfull affectyon.
For as for wytte,
The deuyll spede whitte!
But braynsyk and braynlesse,
Wytles and rechelesse,
Careles and shamlesse,
Thriftles and gracelesse,
Together are bended
And so condyscended,
That the commune welth
Shall neuer haue good helth,
But tatterd and tuggyd,
Raggyd and ruggyd,
Shauyn and shorne,
And all threde bare worne.
Suche gredynesse
Suche nedynesse,
Myserablenesse,
With wretchydnesse,
Hath brought in dystresse
And moche heuynesse
And great dolowre
Englande, the flowre
Of relucent honowre,
In olde commemoracion
Most royall Englyssh nacion.
Now all is out of facion,
Almost in desolation;
I speke by protestacion:
God of his miseracyon
Send better reformacyon!
With sober dyrectyon,
He kepeth them in subiectyon:
They can haue no protectyon
To rule nor to guyde,
But all must be tryde,
And abyde the correctyon
Of his wylfull affectyon.
For as for wytte,
The deuyll spede whitte!
But braynsyk and braynlesse,
Wytles and rechelesse,
Careles and shamlesse,
Thriftles and gracelesse,
Together are bended
And so condyscended,
That the commune welth
Shall neuer haue good helth,
311
Raggyd and ruggyd,
Shauyn and shorne,
And all threde bare worne.
Suche gredynesse
Suche nedynesse,
Myserablenesse,
With wretchydnesse,
Hath brought in dystresse
And moche heuynesse
And great dolowre
Englande, the flowre
Of relucent honowre,
In olde commemoracion
Most royall Englyssh nacion.
Now all is out of facion,
Almost in desolation;
I speke by protestacion:
God of his miseracyon
Send better reformacyon!
Lo, for to do shamfully
He iugeth it no foly!
But to wryte of his shame,
He sayth we ar to blame.
What a frensy is this,
No shame to do amys,
And yet he is ashamed
To be shamfully named!
And ofte prechours be blamed,
Bycause they haue proclamed
His madnesse by writynge,
His symplenesse resytynge,
Remordynge and bytynge,
With chydyng and with flytynge,
Shewynge him Goddis lawis:
He calleth the prechours dawis,
And of holy scriptures sawis
He counteth them for gygawis,
And putteth them to sylence
And with wordis of vyolence,
Lyke Pharao, voyde of grace,
Dyd Moyses sore manase,
And Aron sore he thret,
The worde of God to let;
This maumet in lyke wyse
Against the churche doth ryse;
The prechour he dothe dyspyse,
With crakynge in suche wyse,
So braggynge all with bost,
That no prechour almost
Dare speke for his lyfe
Of my lordis grace nor his wyfe,
For he hath suche a bull,
He may take whom he wull,
And as many as him lykys;
May ete pigges in Lent for pikys,
After the sectes of heretykis,
For in Lent he wyll ete
All maner of flesshe mete
That he can ony where gete;
With other abusyons grete,
Wherof for to trete
It wolde make the deuyll to swete,
For all priuileged places
He brekes and defaces,
All placis of relygion
He hathe them in derisyon,
And makith suche prouisyon
To dryue them at diuisyon,
And fynally in conclusyon
To bringe them to confusyon;
Saint Albons to recorde
Wherof this vngracyous lorde
Hathe made him selfe abbot,
Against their wylles, God wot.
All this he dothe deale
Vnder strength of the great seale,
And by his legacy,
Whiche madly he dothe apply
Vnto an extrauagancy
Pyked out of all good lawe,
With reasons that ben rawe.
Yet, whan he toke first his hat,
He said he knew what was what;
All iustyce he pretended,
All thynges sholde be amended,
All wronges he wolde redresse,
All iniuris he wolde represse,
All periuris he wolde oppresse;
And yet this gracelesse elfe,
He is periured himselfe,
As playnly it dothe appere,
Who lyst to enquere
In the regestry
Of my Lorde of Cantorbury,
To whom he was professed
In thre poyntes expressed;
The fyrst to do him reuerence,
The seconde to owe hym obedyence,
The thirde with hole affectyon
To be vnder his subiectyon:
But now he maketh obiectyon,
Vnder the protectyon
Of the kynges great seale,
That he setteth neuer a deale
By his former othe,
Whether God be pleased or wroth.
He makith so proude pretens,
That in his equipolens
He iugyth him equiualent
With God omnipotent:
But yet beware the rod,
And the stroke of God!
He iugeth it no foly!
But to wryte of his shame,
He sayth we ar to blame.
What a frensy is this,
No shame to do amys,
And yet he is ashamed
To be shamfully named!
And ofte prechours be blamed,
Bycause they haue proclamed
312
His symplenesse resytynge,
Remordynge and bytynge,
With chydyng and with flytynge,
Shewynge him Goddis lawis:
He calleth the prechours dawis,
And of holy scriptures sawis
He counteth them for gygawis,
And putteth them to sylence
And with wordis of vyolence,
Lyke Pharao, voyde of grace,
Dyd Moyses sore manase,
And Aron sore he thret,
The worde of God to let;
This maumet in lyke wyse
Against the churche doth ryse;
The prechour he dothe dyspyse,
With crakynge in suche wyse,
So braggynge all with bost,
That no prechour almost
Dare speke for his lyfe
Of my lordis grace nor his wyfe,
For he hath suche a bull,
He may take whom he wull,
And as many as him lykys;
May ete pigges in Lent for pikys,
After the sectes of heretykis,
For in Lent he wyll ete
All maner of flesshe mete
313
With other abusyons grete,
Wherof for to trete
It wolde make the deuyll to swete,
For all priuileged places
He brekes and defaces,
All placis of relygion
He hathe them in derisyon,
And makith suche prouisyon
To dryue them at diuisyon,
And fynally in conclusyon
To bringe them to confusyon;
Saint Albons to recorde
Wherof this vngracyous lorde
Hathe made him selfe abbot,
Against their wylles, God wot.
All this he dothe deale
Vnder strength of the great seale,
And by his legacy,
Whiche madly he dothe apply
Vnto an extrauagancy
Pyked out of all good lawe,
With reasons that ben rawe.
Yet, whan he toke first his hat,
He said he knew what was what;
All iustyce he pretended,
All thynges sholde be amended,
All wronges he wolde redresse,
All iniuris he wolde represse,
All periuris he wolde oppresse;
314
He is periured himselfe,
As playnly it dothe appere,
Who lyst to enquere
In the regestry
Of my Lorde of Cantorbury,
To whom he was professed
In thre poyntes expressed;
The fyrst to do him reuerence,
The seconde to owe hym obedyence,
The thirde with hole affectyon
To be vnder his subiectyon:
But now he maketh obiectyon,
Vnder the protectyon
Of the kynges great seale,
That he setteth neuer a deale
By his former othe,
Whether God be pleased or wroth.
He makith so proude pretens,
That in his equipolens
He iugyth him equiualent
With God omnipotent:
But yet beware the rod,
And the stroke of God!
The Apostyll Peter
Had a pore myter
And a poore cope
Whan he was creat Pope,
First in Antioche;
He dyd neuer approche
Of Rome to the see
Weth suche dygnyte.
Had a pore myter
And a poore cope
Whan he was creat Pope,
First in Antioche;
He dyd neuer approche
315
Weth suche dygnyte.
Saynt Dunstane, what was he?
Nothynge, he sayth, lyke to me:
There is a dyuersyte
Bytwene him and me;
We passe hym in degre,
As legatus a latere.
Nothynge, he sayth, lyke to me:
There is a dyuersyte
Bytwene him and me;
We passe hym in degre,
As legatus a latere.
Ecce, sacerdos magnus,
That wyll hed vs and hange vs,
And streitly strangle vs
And he may fange vs!
Decre and decretall,
Constytucyon prouincyall,
Nor no lawe canonicall,
Shall let the preest pontyficall
To syt in causa sanguinis.
Nowe God amende that is amys!
For I suppose that he is
Of Ieremy the whyskynge rod,
The flayle, the scourge of almighty God.
That wyll hed vs and hange vs,
And streitly strangle vs
And he may fange vs!
Decre and decretall,
Constytucyon prouincyall,
Nor no lawe canonicall,
Shall let the preest pontyficall
To syt in causa sanguinis.
Nowe God amende that is amys!
For I suppose that he is
Of Ieremy the whyskynge rod,
The flayle, the scourge of almighty God.
This Naman Sirus,
So fell and so irous,
So full of malencoly,
With a flap afore his eye,
Men wene that he is pocky,
Or els his surgions they lye,
For, as far as they can spy
By the craft of surgery,
It is manus Domini.
And yet this proude Antiochus,
He is so ambicious,
So elate, and so vicious,
And so cruell hertyd,
That he wyll nat be conuertyd;
For he setteth God apart,
He is nowe so ouerthwart,
And so payned with pangis,
That all his trust hangis
In Balthasor, whiche heled
Domingos nose that was wheled;
That Lumberdes nose meane I,
That standeth yet awrye;
It was nat heled alderbest,
It standeth somwhat on the west;
I meane Domyngo Lomelyn,
That was wont to wyn
Moche money of the kynge
At the cardys and haserdynge:
Balthasor, that helyd Domingos nose
From the puskylde pocky pose,
Now with his gummys of Araby
Hath promised to hele our cardinals eye;
Yet sum surgions put a dout,
Lest he wyll put it clene out,
And make him lame of his neder limmes:
God sende him sorowe for his sinnes!
So fell and so irous,
So full of malencoly,
With a flap afore his eye,
Men wene that he is pocky,
Or els his surgions they lye,
For, as far as they can spy
By the craft of surgery,
It is manus Domini.
316
He is so ambicious,
So elate, and so vicious,
And so cruell hertyd,
That he wyll nat be conuertyd;
For he setteth God apart,
He is nowe so ouerthwart,
And so payned with pangis,
That all his trust hangis
In Balthasor, whiche heled
Domingos nose that was wheled;
That Lumberdes nose meane I,
That standeth yet awrye;
It was nat heled alderbest,
It standeth somwhat on the west;
I meane Domyngo Lomelyn,
That was wont to wyn
Moche money of the kynge
At the cardys and haserdynge:
Balthasor, that helyd Domingos nose
From the puskylde pocky pose,
Now with his gummys of Araby
Hath promised to hele our cardinals eye;
Yet sum surgions put a dout,
Lest he wyll put it clene out,
And make him lame of his neder limmes:
God sende him sorowe for his sinnes!
Some men myght aske a question,
By whose suggestyon
I toke on hand this warke,
Thus boldly for to barke?
And men lyst to harke,
And my wordes marke,
I wyll answere lyke a clerke;
For trewly and vnfayned,
I am forcebly constrayned,
At Iuuynals request,
To wryght of this glorious gest,
Of this vayne gloryous best,
His fame to be encrest
At euery solempne feest;
Quia difficile est
Satiram non scribere.
Now, mayster doctor, howe say ye,
What soeuer your name be?
What though ye be namelesse,
Ye shall not escape blamelesse,
Nor yet shall scape shamlesse:
Mayster doctor in your degre,
Yourselfe madly ye ouerse;
Blame Iuuinall, and blame nat me:
Maister doctor Diricum,
Omne animi vitium, &c.
As Iuuinall dothe recorde,
A small defaute in a great lorde,
A lytell cryme in a great astate,
Is moche more inordinate,
And more horyble to beholde,
Than any other a thousand folde.
Ye put to blame ye wot nere whom;
Ye may weare a cockes come;
Your fonde hed in your furred hood,
Holde ye your tong, ye can no goode:
And at more conuenyent tyme
I may fortune for to ryme
Somwhat of your madnesse;
For small is your sadnesse
To put any man in lack,
And say yll behynde his back:
And my wordes marke truly,
That ye can nat byde thereby,
For smegma non est cinnamomum,
But de absentibus nil nisi bonum.
Complayne, or do what ye wyll,
Of your complaynt it shall nat skyl:
This is the tenor of my byl,
A daucock ye be, and so shalbe styll.
Sequitur Epitoma
By whose suggestyon
I toke on hand this warke,
Thus boldly for to barke?
317
And my wordes marke,
I wyll answere lyke a clerke;
For trewly and vnfayned,
I am forcebly constrayned,
At Iuuynals request,
To wryght of this glorious gest,
Of this vayne gloryous best,
His fame to be encrest
At euery solempne feest;
Quia difficile est
Satiram non scribere.
Now, mayster doctor, howe say ye,
What soeuer your name be?
What though ye be namelesse,
Ye shall not escape blamelesse,
Nor yet shall scape shamlesse:
Mayster doctor in your degre,
Yourselfe madly ye ouerse;
Blame Iuuinall, and blame nat me:
Maister doctor Diricum,
Omne animi vitium, &c.
As Iuuinall dothe recorde,
A small defaute in a great lorde,
A lytell cryme in a great astate,
Is moche more inordinate,
And more horyble to beholde,
Than any other a thousand folde.
Ye put to blame ye wot nere whom;
Ye may weare a cockes come;
318
Holde ye your tong, ye can no goode:
And at more conuenyent tyme
I may fortune for to ryme
Somwhat of your madnesse;
For small is your sadnesse
To put any man in lack,
And say yll behynde his back:
And my wordes marke truly,
That ye can nat byde thereby,
For smegma non est cinnamomum,
But de absentibus nil nisi bonum.
Complayne, or do what ye wyll,
Of your complaynt it shall nat skyl:
This is the tenor of my byl,
A daucock ye be, and so shalbe styll.
De morbilloso Thoma,
Necnon obscœno
De Polyphemo, &c.
Porro perbelle dissimulatum
Illum Pandulphum, tantum legatum,
Tam formidatum nuper prælatum,
Ceu Naman Syrum nunc elongatum,
In solitudine jam commoratum,
Neapolitano morbo gravatum,
Malagmate, cataplasmate stratum,
Pharmacopolæ ferro foratum,
319
Nihilo melius aut medicatum,
Relictis famulis ad famulatum,
Quo tollatur infamia,
Sed major patet insania;
A modo ergo ganea
Abhorreat ille ganeus,
Dominus male creticus,
Aptius dictus tetricus,
Fanaticus, phreneticus,
Graphicus sicut metricus
Autumat.
Hoc genus dictaminis
Non eget examinis
In centiloquio
Nec centimetro
Honorati
Grammatici
Mauri.
DECASTICHON VIRULENTUM IN GALERATUM LYCAONTA MARINUM, &c.
Proh dolor, ecce, maris lupus, et nequissimus ursus,Carnificis vitulus, Britonumque bubulcus iniquus,
Conflatus vitulus vel Oreb, vel Salmane vel Zeb,
Carduus, et crudelis Asaphque Datan reprobatus,
Blandus et Achitophel regis, scelus omne Britannum,
Ecclesias qui namque Thomas confundit ubique,
Non sacer iste Thomas, sed duro corde Goleas,
320
Fundens asphaltum, precor! Hunc versum lege cautum;
Asperius nihil est misero quum surget in altum.
APOSTROPHA AD LONDINI CIVES (CITANTE MULUM ASINO AUREO GALERATO) IN OCCURSUM ASELLI, &c.
Excitat, en, asinus mulum, mirabile visu,Calcibus! O vestro cives occurrite asello,
Qui regnum regemque regit, qui vestra gubernat
Prædia, divitias, nummos, gazas, spoliando!
Dixit alludens, immo illudens, paradoxam de asino aureo galerato. xxxiiii.
Hæc vates ille,
De quo loquuntur mille.
De quo loquuntur mille.
321
SKELTON, LAUREATE, &c
HOWE THE DOUTY DUKE OF ALBANY, LYKE A COWARDE KNYGHT, RAN AWAYE SHAMFULLY, WITH AN HUNDRED THOUSANDE TRATLANDE SCOTTES AND FAINT HARTED FRENCHEMEN, BESIDE THE WATER OF TWEDE, &c.
Reioyse, Englande,
And vnderstande
These tidinges newe,
Whiche be as trewe
As the gospell:
This duke so fell
Of Albany,
So cowardly,
With all his hoost
Of the Scottyshe coost,
For all theyr boost,
Fledde lyke a beest;
Wherfore to ieste
Is my delyght
Of this cowarde knyght,
And for to wright
In the dispyght
Of the Scottes ranke
Of Huntley banke,
Of Lowdyan,
Of Locryan,
And the ragged ray
Of Galaway.
And vnderstande
These tidinges newe,
Whiche be as trewe
As the gospell:
This duke so fell
Of Albany,
So cowardly,
With all his hoost
Of the Scottyshe coost,
For all theyr boost,
Fledde lyke a beest;
Wherfore to ieste
Is my delyght
Of this cowarde knyght,
And for to wright
In the dispyght
Of the Scottes ranke
Of Huntley banke,
322
Of Locryan,
And the ragged ray
Of Galaway.
Dunbar, Dunde,
Ye shall trowe me,
False Scottes are ye:
Your hartes sore faynted,
And so attaynted,
Lyke cowardes starke,
At the castell of Warke,
By the water of Twede,
Ye had euill spede;
Lyke cankerd curres,
Ye loste your spurres,
For in that fraye
Ye ranne awaye,
With, hey, dogge, hay!
For Sir William Lyle
Within shorte whyle,
That valiaunt knyght,
Putte you to flyght;
By his valyaunce
Two thousande of Fraunce
There he putte backe,
To your great lacke,
And vtter shame
Of your Scottysshe name.
Your chefe cheftayne,
Voyde of all brayne,
Duke of all Albany,
Than shamefuly
He reculed backe,
To his great lacke,
Whan he herde tell
That my lorde amrell
Was comyng downe,
To make hym frowne
And to make hym lowre,
With the noble powre
Of my lorde cardynall,
As an hoost royall,
After the auncient manner,
With sainct Cutberdes banner,
And sainct Williams also;
Your capitayne ranne to go,
To go, to go, to go,
And brake vp all his hoost
For all his crake and bost,
Lyke a cowarde knyght,
He fledde, and durst nat fyght,
He ranne awaye by night.
Ye shall trowe me,
False Scottes are ye:
Your hartes sore faynted,
And so attaynted,
Lyke cowardes starke,
At the castell of Warke,
By the water of Twede,
Ye had euill spede;
Lyke cankerd curres,
Ye loste your spurres,
For in that fraye
Ye ranne awaye,
With, hey, dogge, hay!
For Sir William Lyle
Within shorte whyle,
That valiaunt knyght,
Putte you to flyght;
By his valyaunce
Two thousande of Fraunce
There he putte backe,
To your great lacke,
And vtter shame
Of your Scottysshe name.
323
Voyde of all brayne,
Duke of all Albany,
Than shamefuly
He reculed backe,
To his great lacke,
Whan he herde tell
That my lorde amrell
Was comyng downe,
To make hym frowne
And to make hym lowre,
With the noble powre
Of my lorde cardynall,
As an hoost royall,
After the auncient manner,
With sainct Cutberdes banner,
And sainct Williams also;
Your capitayne ranne to go,
To go, to go, to go,
And brake vp all his hoost
For all his crake and bost,
Lyke a cowarde knyght,
He fledde, and durst nat fyght,
He ranne awaye by night.
But now must I
Your Duke ascry
Of Albany
With a worde or twayne
In sentence playne.
Your Duke ascry
Of Albany
With a worde or twayne
In sentence playne.
Ye duke so doutty,
So sterne, so stoutty,
In shorte sentens,
Of your pretens
What is the grounde,
Breuely and rounde
To me expounde,
Or els wyll I
Euydently
Shewe as it is;
For the cause is this,
Howe ye pretende
For to defende
The yonge Scottyshe kyng,
But ye meane a thyng,
And ye coude bryng
The matter about,
To putte his eyes out
And put hym downe,
And set hys crowne
On your owne heed
Whan he were deed.
Such trechery
And traytory
Is all your cast;
Thus ye haue compast
With the Frenche kyng
A fals rekenyng
To enuade Englande,
As I vnderstande:
But our kyng royall,
Whose name ouer all,
Noble Henry the eyght,
Shall cast a beyght,
And sette suche a snare,
That shall cast you in care,
Bothe Kyng Fraunces and thé,
That knowen ye shall be
For the moost recrayd
Cowardes afrayd,
And falsest forsworne,
That euer were borne.
So sterne, so stoutty,
324
Of your pretens
What is the grounde,
Breuely and rounde
To me expounde,
Or els wyll I
Euydently
Shewe as it is;
For the cause is this,
Howe ye pretende
For to defende
The yonge Scottyshe kyng,
But ye meane a thyng,
And ye coude bryng
The matter about,
To putte his eyes out
And put hym downe,
And set hys crowne
On your owne heed
Whan he were deed.
Such trechery
And traytory
Is all your cast;
Thus ye haue compast
With the Frenche kyng
A fals rekenyng
To enuade Englande,
As I vnderstande:
But our kyng royall,
Whose name ouer all,
Noble Henry the eyght,
325
And sette suche a snare,
That shall cast you in care,
Bothe Kyng Fraunces and thé,
That knowen ye shall be
For the moost recrayd
Cowardes afrayd,
And falsest forsworne,
That euer were borne.
O ye wretched Scottes,
Ye puaunt pyspottes,
It shalbe your lottes
To be knytte vp with knottes
Of halters and ropes
About your traytours throtes!
O Scottes pariured,
Vnhaply vred,
Ye may be assured
Your falshod discured
It is and shal be
From the Scottish se
Vnto Gabione!
For ye be false echone,
False and false agayne,
Neuer true nor playne,
But flery, flatter, and fayne,
And euer to remayne
In wretched beggary
And maungy misery,
In lousy lothsumnesse
And scabbed scorffynesse,
And in abhominacion
Of all maner of nacion,
Nacion moost in hate,
Proude and poore of state.
Twyt, Scot, go kepe thy den,
Mell nat with Englyshe men;
Thou dyd nothyng but barke
At the castell of Warke.
Twyt, Scot, yet agayne ones,
We shall breke thy bones,
And hang you vpon polles,
And byrne you all to colles;
With, twyt, Scot, twyt, Scot, twyt,
Walke, Scot, go begge a byt
Of brede at ylke mannes hecke:
The fynde, Scot, breke thy necke!
Twyt, Scot, agayne I saye,
Twyt, Scot of Galaway,
Twyt, Scot, shake thy dogge, hay!
Twyt, Scot, thou ran away.
Ye puaunt pyspottes,
It shalbe your lottes
To be knytte vp with knottes
Of halters and ropes
About your traytours throtes!
O Scottes pariured,
Vnhaply vred,
Ye may be assured
Your falshod discured
It is and shal be
From the Scottish se
Vnto Gabione!
For ye be false echone,
False and false agayne,
Neuer true nor playne,
But flery, flatter, and fayne,
And euer to remayne
In wretched beggary
And maungy misery,
In lousy lothsumnesse
326
And in abhominacion
Of all maner of nacion,
Nacion moost in hate,
Proude and poore of state.
Twyt, Scot, go kepe thy den,
Mell nat with Englyshe men;
Thou dyd nothyng but barke
At the castell of Warke.
Twyt, Scot, yet agayne ones,
We shall breke thy bones,
And hang you vpon polles,
And byrne you all to colles;
With, twyt, Scot, twyt, Scot, twyt,
Walke, Scot, go begge a byt
Of brede at ylke mannes hecke:
The fynde, Scot, breke thy necke!
Twyt, Scot, agayne I saye,
Twyt, Scot of Galaway,
Twyt, Scot, shake thy dogge, hay!
Twyt, Scot, thou ran away.
We set nat a flye
By your Duke of Albany;
We set nat a prane
By suche a dronken drane;
We set nat a myght
By suche a cowarde knyght,
Suche a proude palyarde,
Suche a skyrgaliarde,
Suche a starke cowarde,
Suche a proude pultrowne,
Suche a foule coystrowne,
Suche a doutty dagswayne;
Sende him to F[r]aunce agayne,
To bring with hym more brayne
From Kynge Fraunces of Frauns:
God sende them bothe myschauns!
By your Duke of Albany;
We set nat a prane
By suche a dronken drane;
We set nat a myght
By suche a cowarde knyght,
Suche a proude palyarde,
327
Suche a starke cowarde,
Suche a proude pultrowne,
Suche a foule coystrowne,
Suche a doutty dagswayne;
Sende him to F[r]aunce agayne,
To bring with hym more brayne
From Kynge Fraunces of Frauns:
God sende them bothe myschauns!
Ye Scottes all the rable,
Ye shall neuer be hable
With vs for to compare;
What though ye stampe and stare?
God sende you sorow and care!
With vs whan euer ye mell,
Yet we bear away the bell,
Whan ye cankerd knaues
Must crepe into your caues
Your heedes for to hyde,
For ye dare nat abyde.
Ye shall neuer be hable
With vs for to compare;
What though ye stampe and stare?
God sende you sorow and care!
With vs whan euer ye mell,
Yet we bear away the bell,
Whan ye cankerd knaues
Must crepe into your caues
Your heedes for to hyde,
For ye dare nat abyde.
Sir Duke of Albany,
Right inconuenyently
Ye rage and ye raue,
And your worshyp depraue:
Nat lyke Duke Hamylcar,
With the Romayns that made war,
Nor lyke his sonne Hanyball,
Nor lyke Duke Hasdruball
Of Cartage in Aphrike;
Yet somwhat ye be lyke
In some of their condicions,
And their false sedycions,
And their dealyng double,
And their weywarde trouble:
But yet they were bolde,
And manly manyfolde,
Their enemyes to assayle
In playn felde and battayle;
But ye and your hoost,
Full of bragge and boost,
And full of waste wynde,
Howe ye wyll beres bynde,
And the deuill downe dynge,
Yet ye dare do nothynge,
But lepe away lyke frogges,
And hyde you vnder logges,
Lyke pygges and lyke hogges,
And lyke maungy dogges.
What an army were ye?
Or what actyuyte
Is in you, beggers braules,
Full of scabbes and scaules,
Of vermyne and of lyce,
And of all maner vyce?
Right inconuenyently
Ye rage and ye raue,
And your worshyp depraue:
Nat lyke Duke Hamylcar,
With the Romayns that made war,
Nor lyke his sonne Hanyball,
Nor lyke Duke Hasdruball
Of Cartage in Aphrike;
Yet somwhat ye be lyke
328
And their false sedycions,
And their dealyng double,
And their weywarde trouble:
But yet they were bolde,
And manly manyfolde,
Their enemyes to assayle
In playn felde and battayle;
But ye and your hoost,
Full of bragge and boost,
And full of waste wynde,
Howe ye wyll beres bynde,
And the deuill downe dynge,
Yet ye dare do nothynge,
But lepe away lyke frogges,
And hyde you vnder logges,
Lyke pygges and lyke hogges,
And lyke maungy dogges.
What an army were ye?
Or what actyuyte
Is in you, beggers braules,
Full of scabbes and scaules,
Of vermyne and of lyce,
And of all maner vyce?
Syr duke, nay, syr ducke,
Syr drake of the lake, sir ducke
Of the donghyll, for small lucke
Ye haue in feates of warre;
Ye make nought, but ye marre;
Ye are a fals entrusar,
And a fals abusar,
And an vntrewe knyght;
Thou hast to lytell myght
Agaynst Englande to fyght;
Thou art a graceles wyght
To put thy selfe to flyght:
A vengeaunce and dispight
On thé must nedes lyght,
That durst nat byde the sight
Of my lorde amrell,
Of chiualry the well,
Of knighthode the floure
In euery marciall shoure,
The noble Erle of Surrey,
That put thé in suche fray;
Thou durst no felde derayne,
Nor no batayle mayntayne
Against our st[r]onge captaine,
But thou ran home agayne,
For feare thou shoulde be slayne,
Lyke a Scottyshe keteryng,
That durst abyde no reknyng;
Thy hert wolde nat serue thé:
The fynde of hell mot sterue thé!
Syr drake of the lake, sir ducke
Of the donghyll, for small lucke
Ye haue in feates of warre;
Ye make nought, but ye marre;
Ye are a fals entrusar,
329
And an vntrewe knyght;
Thou hast to lytell myght
Agaynst Englande to fyght;
Thou art a graceles wyght
To put thy selfe to flyght:
A vengeaunce and dispight
On thé must nedes lyght,
That durst nat byde the sight
Of my lorde amrell,
Of chiualry the well,
Of knighthode the floure
In euery marciall shoure,
The noble Erle of Surrey,
That put thé in suche fray;
Thou durst no felde derayne,
Nor no batayle mayntayne
Against our st[r]onge captaine,
But thou ran home agayne,
For feare thou shoulde be slayne,
Lyke a Scottyshe keteryng,
That durst abyde no reknyng;
Thy hert wolde nat serue thé:
The fynde of hell mot sterue thé!
No man hath harde
Of suche a cowarde,
And such a mad ymage
Caried in a cage,
As it were a cotage;
Or of suche a mawment
Caryed in a tent;
In a tent! nay, nay,
But in a mountayne gay,
Lyke a great-hill
For a wyndmil,
Therin to couche styll,
That no man hym kyll;
As it were a gote
In a shepe cote,
About hym a parke
Of a madde warke,
Men call it a toyle;
Therin, lyke a royle,
Sir Dunkan, ye dared,
And thus ye prepared
Youre carkas to kepe,
Lyke a sely shepe,
A shepe of Cottyswolde,
From rayne and from colde,
And from raynning of rappes,
And suche after clappes;
Thus in your cowardly castell
Ye decte you to dwell:
Suche a captayne of hors,
It made no great fors
If that ye had tane
Your last deedly bane
With a gon stone,
To make you to grone.
But hyde thé, sir Topias,
Nowe into the castell of Bas,
And lurke there, lyke an as,
With some Scotyshe [l]as,
With dugges, dugges, dugges:
I shrewe thy Scottishe lugges,
Thy munpynnys, and thy crag,
For thou can not but brag,
Lyke a Scottyshe hag:
Adue nowe, sir Wrig wrag,
Adue, sir Dalyrag!
Thy mellyng is but mockyng;
Thou mayst giue vp thy cocking,
Gyue it vp, and cry creke,
Lyke an huddypeke.
Of suche a cowarde,
And such a mad ymage
Caried in a cage,
As it were a cotage;
Or of suche a mawment
330
In a tent! nay, nay,
But in a mountayne gay,
Lyke a great-hill
For a wyndmil,
Therin to couche styll,
That no man hym kyll;
As it were a gote
In a shepe cote,
About hym a parke
Of a madde warke,
Men call it a toyle;
Therin, lyke a royle,
Sir Dunkan, ye dared,
And thus ye prepared
Youre carkas to kepe,
Lyke a sely shepe,
A shepe of Cottyswolde,
From rayne and from colde,
And from raynning of rappes,
And suche after clappes;
Thus in your cowardly castell
Ye decte you to dwell:
Suche a captayne of hors,
It made no great fors
If that ye had tane
Your last deedly bane
With a gon stone,
To make you to grone.
But hyde thé, sir Topias,
331
And lurke there, lyke an as,
With some Scotyshe [l]as,
With dugges, dugges, dugges:
I shrewe thy Scottishe lugges,
Thy munpynnys, and thy crag,
For thou can not but brag,
Lyke a Scottyshe hag:
Adue nowe, sir Wrig wrag,
Adue, sir Dalyrag!
Thy mellyng is but mockyng;
Thou mayst giue vp thy cocking,
Gyue it vp, and cry creke,
Lyke an huddypeke.
Wherto shuld I more speke
Of suche a farly freke,
Of suche an horne keke,
Of suche an bolde captayne,
That dare nat turne agayne,
Nor durst nat crak a worde,
Nor durst nat drawe his swerde
Agaynst the Lyon White,
But ran away quyte?
He ran away by nyght,
In the owle flyght,
Lyke a cowarde knyght.
Adue, cowarde, adue,
Fals knight, and mooste vntrue!
I render thé, fals rebelle,
To the flingande fende of helle.
Of suche a farly freke,
Of suche an horne keke,
Of suche an bolde captayne,
That dare nat turne agayne,
Nor durst nat crak a worde,
Nor durst nat drawe his swerde
Agaynst the Lyon White,
But ran away quyte?
He ran away by nyght,
In the owle flyght,
Lyke a cowarde knyght.
Adue, cowarde, adue,
Fals knight, and mooste vntrue!
I render thé, fals rebelle,
To the flingande fende of helle.
332
Harke yet, sir duke, a worde,
In ernest or in borde:
What, haue ye, villayn, forged,
And virulently dysgorged,
As though ye wolde parbrake,
Your auauns to make,
With wordes enbosed,
Vngraciously engrosed,
Howe ye wyll vndertake
Our royall kyng to make
His owne realme to forsake?
Suche lewde langage ye spake.
Sir Dunkan, in the deuill waye,
Be well ware what ye say:
Ye saye that he and ye,—
Whyche he and ye? let se;
Ye meane Fraunces, French kyng,
Shulde bring about that thing.
I say, thou lewde lurdayne,
That neyther of you twayne
So hardy nor so bolde
His countenaunce to beholde:
If our moost royall Harry
Lyst with you to varry,
Full soone ye should miscary,
For ye durst nat tarry
With hym to stryue a stownde;
If he on you but frounde,
Nat for a thousande pounde
Ye durst byde on the grounde,
Ye wolde ryn away rounde,
And cowardly tourne your backes,
For all your comly crackes,
And, for feare par case
To loke hym in the face,
Ye wolde defoyle the place,
And ryn your way apace.
Thoughe I trym you thys trace
With Englyshe somwhat base,
Yet, saue voster grace,
Therby I shall purchace
No displesaunt rewarde,
If ye wele can regarde
Your cankarde cowardnesse
And your shamfull doublenesse.
In ernest or in borde:
What, haue ye, villayn, forged,
And virulently dysgorged,
As though ye wolde parbrake,
Your auauns to make,
With wordes enbosed,
Vngraciously engrosed,
Howe ye wyll vndertake
Our royall kyng to make
His owne realme to forsake?
Suche lewde langage ye spake.
Sir Dunkan, in the deuill waye,
Be well ware what ye say:
Ye saye that he and ye,—
Whyche he and ye? let se;
Ye meane Fraunces, French kyng,
Shulde bring about that thing.
I say, thou lewde lurdayne,
That neyther of you twayne
So hardy nor so bolde
His countenaunce to beholde:
If our moost royall Harry
Lyst with you to varry,
Full soone ye should miscary,
For ye durst nat tarry
With hym to stryue a stownde;
If he on you but frounde,
Nat for a thousande pounde
Ye durst byde on the grounde,
333
And cowardly tourne your backes,
For all your comly crackes,
And, for feare par case
To loke hym in the face,
Ye wolde defoyle the place,
And ryn your way apace.
Thoughe I trym you thys trace
With Englyshe somwhat base,
Yet, saue voster grace,
Therby I shall purchace
No displesaunt rewarde,
If ye wele can regarde
Your cankarde cowardnesse
And your shamfull doublenesse.
Are ye nat frantyke madde,
And wretchedly bestadde,
To rayle agaynst his grace,
That shall bring you full bace,
And set you in suche case,
That bytwene you twayne
There shalbe drawen a trayne
That shalbe to your payne?
To flye ye shalbe fayne.
And neuer tourne agayne.
And wretchedly bestadde,
To rayle agaynst his grace,
That shall bring you full bace,
And set you in suche case,
That bytwene you twayne
There shalbe drawen a trayne
That shalbe to your payne?
To flye ye shalbe fayne.
And neuer tourne agayne.
What, wold Fraunces, our friar,
Be suche a false lyar,
So madde a cordylar,
So madde a murmurar?
Ye muse somwhat to far;
All out of ioynt ye iar:
God let you neuer thriue!
Wene ye, daucockes, to driue
Our kyng out of his reme?
Ge heme, ranke Scot, ge heme,
With fonde Fraunces, French kyng:
Our mayster shall you brynge
I trust, to lowe estate,
And mate you with chekmate.
Be suche a false lyar,
So madde a cordylar,
So madde a murmurar?
Ye muse somwhat to far;
334
God let you neuer thriue!
Wene ye, daucockes, to driue
Our kyng out of his reme?
Ge heme, ranke Scot, ge heme,
With fonde Fraunces, French kyng:
Our mayster shall you brynge
I trust, to lowe estate,
And mate you with chekmate.
Your braynes arr ydell;
It is time for you to brydell,
And pype in a quibyble;
For it is impossible
For you to bring about,
Our kyng for to dryue out
Of this his realme royall
And lande imperiall;
So noble a prince as he
In all actyuite
Of hardy merciall actes,
Fortunate in all his faytes.
It is time for you to brydell,
And pype in a quibyble;
For it is impossible
For you to bring about,
Our kyng for to dryue out
Of this his realme royall
And lande imperiall;
So noble a prince as he
In all actyuite
Of hardy merciall actes,
Fortunate in all his faytes.
And nowe I wyll me dresse
His valiaunce to expresse,
Though insufficient am I
His grace to magnify
And laude equiualently;
Howe be it, loyally,
After myne allegyaunce,
My pen I wyll auaunce
To extoll his noble grace,
In spyght of thy cowardes face,
In spyght of Kyng Fraunces,
Deuoyde of all nobles,
Deuoyde of good corage,
Deuoyde of wysdome sage,
Mad, frantyke, and sauage;
Thus he dothe disparage
His blode with fonde dotage.
A prince to play the page
It is a rechelesse rage,
And a lunatyke ouerage.
What though my stile be rude?
With trouthe it is ennewde:
Trouth ought to be rescude,
Trouthe should nat be subdude.
His valiaunce to expresse,
Though insufficient am I
His grace to magnify
And laude equiualently;
Howe be it, loyally,
After myne allegyaunce,
My pen I wyll auaunce
335
In spyght of thy cowardes face,
In spyght of Kyng Fraunces,
Deuoyde of all nobles,
Deuoyde of good corage,
Deuoyde of wysdome sage,
Mad, frantyke, and sauage;
Thus he dothe disparage
His blode with fonde dotage.
A prince to play the page
It is a rechelesse rage,
And a lunatyke ouerage.
What though my stile be rude?
With trouthe it is ennewde:
Trouth ought to be rescude,
Trouthe should nat be subdude.
But nowe will I expounde
What noblenesse dothe abounde,
And what honour is founde,
And what vertues be resydent
In our royall regent,
Our perelesse president,
Our kyng most excellent:
What noblenesse dothe abounde,
And what honour is founde,
And what vertues be resydent
In our royall regent,
Our perelesse president,
Our kyng most excellent:
In merciall prowes
Lyke vnto Hercules;
In prudence and wysdom
Lyke vnto Salamon;
In his goodly person
Lyke vnto Absolon;
In loyalte and foy
Lyke to Ector of Troy;
And his glory to incres,
Lyke to Scipiades;
In royal mageste
Lyke vnto Ptholome,
Lyke to Duke Iosue,
And the valiaunt Machube;
That if I wolde reporte
All the roiall sorte
Of his nobilyte,
His magnanymyte,
His animosite,
His frugalite,
His lyberalite,
His affabilite,
His humanyte,
His stabilite,
His humilite,
His benignite,
His royall dignyte,
My lernyng is to small
For to recount them all.
Lyke vnto Hercules;
In prudence and wysdom
Lyke vnto Salamon;
In his goodly person
Lyke vnto Absolon;
In loyalte and foy
336
And his glory to incres,
Lyke to Scipiades;
In royal mageste
Lyke vnto Ptholome,
Lyke to Duke Iosue,
And the valiaunt Machube;
That if I wolde reporte
All the roiall sorte
Of his nobilyte,
His magnanymyte,
His animosite,
His frugalite,
His lyberalite,
His affabilite,
His humanyte,
His stabilite,
His humilite,
His benignite,
His royall dignyte,
My lernyng is to small
For to recount them all.
What losels than are ye,
Lyke cowardes as ye be,
To rayle on his astate,
With wordes inordinate!
Lyke cowardes as ye be,
To rayle on his astate,
With wordes inordinate!
He rules his cominalte
With all benignite;
His noble baronage,
He putteth them in corage
To exployte dedes of armys,
To the domage and harmys
Of suche as be his foos;
Where euer he rydes or goos,
His subiectes he dothe supporte,
Maintayne them with comforte
Of his moste princely porte,
As all men can reporte.
With all benignite;
His noble baronage,
He putteth them in corage
337
To the domage and harmys
Of suche as be his foos;
Where euer he rydes or goos,
His subiectes he dothe supporte,
Maintayne them with comforte
Of his moste princely porte,
As all men can reporte.
Than ye be a knappishe sorte,
Et faitez a luy grant torte,
With your enbosed iawes
To rayle on hym lyke dawes;
The fende scrache out your mawes!
Et faitez a luy grant torte,
With your enbosed iawes
To rayle on hym lyke dawes;
The fende scrache out your mawes!
All his subiectes and he
Moost louyngly agre
With hole hart and true mynde,
They fynde his grace so kynde;
Wherwith he dothe them bynde
At all houres to be redy
With hym to lyue and dye,
And to spende their hart blode,
Their bodyes and their gode,
With hym in all dystresse,
Alway in redynesse
To assyst his noble grace;
In spyght of thy cowardes face,
Moost false attaynted traytour,
And false forsworne faytour.
Moost louyngly agre
With hole hart and true mynde,
They fynde his grace so kynde;
Wherwith he dothe them bynde
At all houres to be redy
With hym to lyue and dye,
And to spende their hart blode,
Their bodyes and their gode,
With hym in all dystresse,
Alway in redynesse
To assyst his noble grace;
In spyght of thy cowardes face,
Moost false attaynted traytour,
And false forsworne faytour.
Auaunte, cowarde recrayed!
Thy pride shalbe alayd;
With sir Fraunces of Fraunce
We shall pype you a daunce,
Shall tourne you to myschauns.
Thy pride shalbe alayd;
338
We shall pype you a daunce,
Shall tourne you to myschauns.
I rede you, loke about;
For ye shalbe driuen out
Of your lande in shorte space:
We will so folowe in the chace,
That ye shall haue no grace
For to tourne your face;
And thus, Sainct George to borowe,
Ye shall haue shame and sorowe.
For ye shalbe driuen out
Of your lande in shorte space:
We will so folowe in the chace,
That ye shall haue no grace
For to tourne your face;
And thus, Sainct George to borowe,
Ye shall haue shame and sorowe.
Lenuoy.
Go, lytell quayre, quickly;Shew them that shall you rede,
How that ye are lykely
Ouer all the worlde to sprede.
The fals Scottes for dred,
With the Duke of Albany,
Beside the water of Twede
They fledde full cowardly.
Though your Englishe be rude,
Barreyne of eloquence,
Yet, breuely to conclude,
Grounded is your sentence
On trouthe, vnder defence
Of all trewe Englyshemen,
This mater to credence
That I wrate with my pen.
339
SKELTON LAUREAT, OBSEQUIOUS ET LOYALL. TO MY LORDE CARDYNALS RIGHT NOBLE GRACE, ETC.
Lenuoy.
Go, lytell quayre, apace,In moost humble wyse,
Before his noble grace,
That caused you to deuise
This lytel enterprise;
And hym moost lowly pray,
In his mynde to comprise
Those wordes his grace dyd saye
Of an ammas gray.
Ie foy enterment en sa bone grace.
340
A LAWDE AND PRAYSE MADE FOR OUR SOUEREIGNE LORD THE KYNG.
The Rose both White and Rede
In one Rose now dothe grow;
Thus thorow every stede
Thereof the fame dothe blow:
Grace the sede did sow:
England, now gaddir flowris,
Exclude now all dolowrs.
In one Rose now dothe grow;
Thus thorow every stede
Thereof the fame dothe blow:
Grace the sede did sow:
England, now gaddir flowris,
Exclude now all dolowrs.
Noble Henry the eight,
Thy loving souereine lorde,
Of kingis line moost streight,
His titille dothe recorde:
In whome dothe wele acorde
Alexis yonge of age,
Adrastus wise and sage.
Thy loving souereine lorde,
Of kingis line moost streight,
His titille dothe recorde:
In whome dothe wele acorde
Alexis yonge of age,
Adrastus wise and sage.
341
Astrea, Justice hight,
That from the starry sky
Shall now com and do right,
This hunderd yere scantly
A man kowd not aspy
That Right dwelt vs among,
And that was the more wrong:
That from the starry sky
Shall now com and do right,
This hunderd yere scantly
A man kowd not aspy
That Right dwelt vs among,
And that was the more wrong:
Right shall the foxis chare,
The wolvis, the beris also,
That wrowght have moche care,
And browght Englond in wo:
They shall wirry no mo,
Nor wrote the Rosary
By extort trechery:
The wolvis, the beris also,
That wrowght have moche care,
And browght Englond in wo:
They shall wirry no mo,
Nor wrote the Rosary
By extort trechery:
Of this our noble king
The law they shall not breke;
They shall com to rekening;
No man for them wil speke:
The pepil durst not creke
Theire grevis to complaine,
They browght them in soche paine:
The law they shall not breke;
They shall com to rekening;
No man for them wil speke:
The pepil durst not creke
Theire grevis to complaine,
They browght them in soche paine:
Therfor no more they shall
The commouns ouerbace,
That wont wer ouer all
Both lorde and knight to face;
For now the yeris of grace
And welthe ar com agayne,
That maketh England faine.
The commouns ouerbace,
That wont wer ouer all
Both lorde and knight to face;
For now the yeris of grace
And welthe ar com agayne,
That maketh England faine.
342
Adonis of freshe colour,
Of yowthe the godely flour,
Our prince of high honour,
Our paves, our succour,
Our king, our emperour,
Our Priamus of Troy,
Our welth, our worldly joy;
Of yowthe the godely flour,
Our prince of high honour,
Our paves, our succour,
Our king, our emperour,
Our Priamus of Troy,
Our welth, our worldly joy;
Vpon vs he doth reigne,
That makith our hartis glad,
As king moost soueraine
That ever Englond had;
Demure, sober, and sad,
And Martis lusty knight;
God save him in his right!
That makith our hartis glad,
As king moost soueraine
That ever Englond had;
Demure, sober, and sad,
And Martis lusty knight;
God save him in his right!
Amen.
Bien men souient.
Per me laurigerum Britonum Skeltonida vatem.
343
POEMS ATTRIBUTED TO SKELTON.
345
VERSES PRESENTED TO KING HENRY THE SEVENTH AT THE FEAST OF ST. GEORGE CELEBRATED AT WINDSOR IN THE THIRD YEAR OF HIS REIGN.
O moste famous noble king! thy fame doth spring and spreade,
Henry the Seventh, our soverain, in eiche regeon;
All England hath cause thy grace to love and dread,
Seing embassadores seche fore protectyon,
For ayd, helpe, and succore, which lyeth in thie electyone.
England, now rejoyce, for joyous mayest thou bee,
To see thy kyng so floreshe in dignetye.
Henry the Seventh, our soverain, in eiche regeon;
All England hath cause thy grace to love and dread,
Seing embassadores seche fore protectyon,
For ayd, helpe, and succore, which lyeth in thie electyone.
England, now rejoyce, for joyous mayest thou bee,
To see thy kyng so floreshe in dignetye.
This realme a seasone stoode in greate jupardie,
When that noble prince deceased, King Edward,
Which in his dayes gate honore full nobly;
After his decesse nighe hand all was marr'd;
Eich regione this land dispised, mischefe when they hard:
Wherefore rejoyse, for joyous mayst thou be,
To see thy kynge so floresh in high dignetye.
When that noble prince deceased, King Edward,
Which in his dayes gate honore full nobly;
346
Eich regione this land dispised, mischefe when they hard:
Wherefore rejoyse, for joyous mayst thou be,
To see thy kynge so floresh in high dignetye.
Fraunce, Spayne, Scoteland, and Britanny, Flanders also,
Three of them present keepinge thy noble feaste
Of St. George in Windsor, ambassadors comying more,
Iche of them in honore, bothe the more and the lesse,
Seeking thie grace to have thie noble begeste:
Wherefore now rejoise, and joyous maiste thou be,
To see thy kynge so florishing in dignetye.
Three of them present keepinge thy noble feaste
Of St. George in Windsor, ambassadors comying more,
Iche of them in honore, bothe the more and the lesse,
Seeking thie grace to have thie noble begeste:
Wherefore now rejoise, and joyous maiste thou be,
To see thy kynge so florishing in dignetye.
O knightly ordere, clothed in robes with gartere!
The queen's grace and thy mother clothed in the same;
The nobles of thie realme riche in araye, aftere,
Lords, knights, and ladyes, unto thy greate fame:
Now shall all embassadors know thie noble name,
By thy feaste royal; nowe joyeous mayest thou be,
To see thie king so florishinge in dignety.
The queen's grace and thy mother clothed in the same;
The nobles of thie realme riche in araye, aftere,
Lords, knights, and ladyes, unto thy greate fame:
Now shall all embassadors know thie noble name,
By thy feaste royal; nowe joyeous mayest thou be,
To see thie king so florishinge in dignety.
Here this day St. George, patron of this place,
Honored with the gartere cheefe of chevalrye;
Chaplenes synging processyon, keeping the same,
With archbushopes and bushopes beseene nobly;
Much people presente to see the King Henrye:
Wherefore now, St. George, all we pray to thee
To keepe our soveraine in his dignetye.
Honored with the gartere cheefe of chevalrye;
Chaplenes synging processyon, keeping the same,
With archbushopes and bushopes beseene nobly;
Much people presente to see the King Henrye:
Wherefore now, St. George, all we pray to thee
To keepe our soveraine in his dignetye.
362
ELEGY ON KING HENRY THE SEVENTH.
[OMITTED]orlde all wrapped in wretchydnes,
[OMITTED]hy pompes so gay and gloryous,
[OMITTED]easures and all thy ryches
[OMITTED]y be but transytoryous;
[OMITTED]to moche pyteous,
[OMITTED]e that eche man whylom dred,
[OMITTED]by naturall lyne and cours,
[OMITTED]s, alas, lyeth dede!
[OMITTED]hy pompes so gay and gloryous,
[OMITTED]easures and all thy ryches
[OMITTED]y be but transytoryous;
[OMITTED]to moche pyteous,
[OMITTED]e that eche man whylom dred,
[OMITTED]by naturall lyne and cours,
[OMITTED]s, alas, lyeth dede!
[OMITTED]ryall a kynge,
[OMITTED]ianer the prudent Salamon;
[OMITTED]sse and in euery thynge,
[OMITTED]io Crysten regyon,
[OMITTED]not longe agone,
[OMITTED]his name by fame spr[e]de;
[OMITTED]te nowe destytute alone,
[OMITTED]as, alas, lyeth dede!
[OMITTED]ianer the prudent Salamon;
[OMITTED]sse and in euery thynge,
[OMITTED]io Crysten regyon,
[OMITTED]not longe agone,
[OMITTED]his name by fame spr[e]de;
[OMITTED]te nowe destytute alone,
[OMITTED]as, alas, lyeth dede!
363
[OMITTED]ater we wretchyd creatures,
[OMITTED]es and tryumphaunt maiestye,
[OMITTED]pastymes and pleasures,
[OMITTED]thouten remedye;
[OMITTED]o wyll the myserable bodye
[OMITTED]n heuy lede,
[OMITTED]lde but vanyte and all vanytye,
[OMITTED]h alas, alas, lyeth dede!
[OMITTED]es and tryumphaunt maiestye,
[OMITTED]pastymes and pleasures,
[OMITTED]thouten remedye;
[OMITTED]o wyll the myserable bodye
[OMITTED]n heuy lede,
[OMITTED]lde but vanyte and all vanytye,
[OMITTED]h alas, alas, lyeth dede!
[OMITTED]is subgectes and make lamentacyon
[OMITTED]o noble a gouernoure;
[OMITTED]ayers make we exclamacyon,
[OMITTED]de to his supernall toure:
[OMITTED]dly rose floure,
[OMITTED]yally all aboute spred,
[OMITTED]iated where is his power?
[OMITTED]alas, alas, lyeth dede!
[OMITTED]o noble a gouernoure;
[OMITTED]ayers make we exclamacyon,
[OMITTED]de to his supernall toure:
[OMITTED]dly rose floure,
[OMITTED]yally all aboute spred,
[OMITTED]iated where is his power?
[OMITTED]alas, alas, lyeth dede!
Of this moost Crysten kynge in vs it lyeth not,
His tyme passed honour suffycyent to prayse;
But yet though that that thyng envalue we may not,
Our prayers of suertye he shall haue alwayes;
And though that Atropose hathe ended his dayes,
His name and fame shall euer be dred
As fer as Phebus spredes his golden rayes,
Though Henry the Seuenth, alas, alas, lyeth dede!
His tyme passed honour suffycyent to prayse;
But yet though that that thyng envalue we may not,
Our prayers of suertye he shall haue alwayes;
And though that Atropose hathe ended his dayes,
His name and fame shall euer be dred
As fer as Phebus spredes his golden rayes,
Though Henry the Seuenth, alas, alas, lyeth dede!
But nowe what remedye? he is vncouerable,
Touchyd by the handes of God that is moost just;
But yet agayne a cause moost confortable
We haue, wherin of ryght reioys we must,
His sone on lyue in beaute, force, and lust,
In honour lykely Traianus to shede;
Wherfore in hym put we our hope and trust,
Syth Henry his fader, alas, alas, lyeth dede!
Touchyd by the handes of God that is moost just;
But yet agayne a cause moost confortable
We haue, wherin of ryght reioys we must,
His sone on lyue in beaute, force, and lust,
In honour lykely Traianus to shede;
Wherfore in hym put we our hope and trust,
Syth Henry his fader, alas, alas, lyeth dede!
And nowe, for conclusyon, aboute his herse
Let this be grauyd for endeles memorye,
With sorowfull tunes of Thesyphenes verse;
Here lyeth the puyssaunt and myghty Henry,
Hector in batayll, Vlyxes in polecy,
Salamon in wysdome, the noble rose rede,
Creses in rychesse, Julyus in glory,
Henry the Seuenth ingraued here lyeth dede!
Let this be grauyd for endeles memorye,
364
Here lyeth the puyssaunt and myghty Henry,
Hector in batayll, Vlyxes in polecy,
Salamon in wysdome, the noble rose rede,
Creses in rychesse, Julyus in glory,
Henry the Seuenth ingraued here lyeth dede!
428
THE MANER OF THE WORLD NOW A DAYES.
So many poynted caps
Lased with double flaps,
And so gay felted hats,
Sawe I never:
So many good lessons,
So many good sermons,
And so few devocions,
Sawe I never.
Lased with double flaps,
And so gay felted hats,
Sawe I never:
So many good lessons,
So many good sermons,
And so few devocions,
Sawe I never.
So many gardes worne,
Jagged and al to-torne,
And so many falsely forsworne,
Sawe I never:
So few good polycies
In townes and cytyes
For kepinge of blinde hostryes
Sawe I never.
Jagged and al to-torne,
And so many falsely forsworne,
Sawe I never:
So few good polycies
In townes and cytyes
For kepinge of blinde hostryes
Sawe I never.
So many good warkes,
So few wel lerned clarkes,
And so few that goodnes markes,
Sawe I never:
Such pranked cotes and sleves,
So few yonge men that preves,
And such encrease of theves,
Sawe I never.
So few wel lerned clarkes,
And so few that goodnes markes,
Sawe I never:
429
So few yonge men that preves,
And such encrease of theves,
Sawe I never.
So many garded hose,
Such cornede shoes,
And so many envious foes,
Sawe I never:
So many questes sytte
With men of smale wit,
And so many falsely quitte,
Sawe I never.
Such cornede shoes,
And so many envious foes,
Sawe I never:
So many questes sytte
With men of smale wit,
And so many falsely quitte,
Sawe I never.
So many gay swordes,
So many altered wordes,
And so few covered bordes,
Sawe I never:
So many empti purses,
So few good horses,
And so many curses,
Sawe I never.
So many altered wordes,
And so few covered bordes,
Sawe I never:
So many empti purses,
So few good horses,
And so many curses,
Sawe I never.
Such bosters and braggers,
So newe fashyoned daggers,
And so many beggers,
Sawe I never:
So many propre knyves,
So well apparrelled wyves
And so yll of theyr lyves,
Saw I never.
So newe fashyoned daggers,
And so many beggers,
Sawe I never:
So many propre knyves,
So well apparrelled wyves
And so yll of theyr lyves,
Saw I never.
So many cockolde makers,
So many crakers,
And so many peace breakers,
Saw I never:
So much vayne clothing
With cultyng and jagging,
And so much bragginge,
Saw I never.
So many crakers,
And so many peace breakers,
Saw I never:
So much vayne clothing
With cultyng and jagging,
And so much bragginge,
Saw I never.
430
So many newes and knackes,
So many naughty packes,
And so many that mony lackes,
Saw I never:
So many maidens with child
And wylfully begylde,
And so many places untilde,
Sawe I never.
So many naughty packes,
And so many that mony lackes,
Saw I never:
So many maidens with child
And wylfully begylde,
And so many places untilde,
Sawe I never.
So many women blamed
And rightuously defaimed,
And so lytle ashamed,
Sawe I never:
Widowes so sone wed
After their husbandes be deade,
Having such hast to bed,
Sawe I never.
And rightuously defaimed,
And so lytle ashamed,
Sawe I never:
Widowes so sone wed
After their husbandes be deade,
Having such hast to bed,
Sawe I never.
So much strivinge
For goodes and for wivinge,
And so lytle thryvynge,
Sawe I never:
So many capacities,
Offices and pluralites,
And chaunging of dignities,
Sawe I never.
For goodes and for wivinge,
And so lytle thryvynge,
Sawe I never:
So many capacities,
Offices and pluralites,
And chaunging of dignities,
Sawe I never.
So many lawes to use
The truth to refuse,
Suche falshead to excuse,
Sawe I never:
Executers havinge the ware,
Taking so littel care
Howe the soule doth fare,
Sawe I never.
The truth to refuse,
Suche falshead to excuse,
Sawe I never:
Executers havinge the ware,
Taking so littel care
Howe the soule doth fare,
Sawe I never.
Amonge them that are riche
No frendshyp is to kepe tuche,
And such fayre glosing speche
Sawe I never:
So many pore
In every bordoure,
And so small soccoure,
Saw I never.
No frendshyp is to kepe tuche,
And such fayre glosing speche
Sawe I never:
431
In every bordoure,
And so small soccoure,
Saw I never.
So proude and so gaye,
So riche in araye,
And so skant of money,
Saw I never:
So many bowyers,
So many fletchers,
And so few good archers,
Saw I never.
So riche in araye,
And so skant of money,
Saw I never:
So many bowyers,
So many fletchers,
And so few good archers,
Saw I never.
So many chepers,
So fewe biers,
And so many borowers,
Sawe I never:
So many alle sellers
In baudy holes and sellers,
Of yonge folkes yll counsellers,
Sawe I never.
So fewe biers,
And so many borowers,
Sawe I never:
So many alle sellers
In baudy holes and sellers,
Of yonge folkes yll counsellers,
Sawe I never.
So many pinkers,
So many thinkers,
And so many good ale drinkers,
Sawe I never:
So many wronges,
So few mery songes,
And so many yll tonges,
Sawe I never.
So many thinkers,
And so many good ale drinkers,
Sawe I never:
So many wronges,
So few mery songes,
And so many yll tonges,
Sawe I never.
So many a vacabounde
Through al this londe,
And so many in pryson bonde,
I sawe never:
So many citacions,
So fewe oblacions,
And so many newe facions,
Sawe I never.
Through al this londe,
And so many in pryson bonde,
I sawe never:
So many citacions,
So fewe oblacions,
And so many newe facions,
Sawe I never.
432
So many fleyng tales,
Pickers of purses and males,
And so many sales,
Saw I never:
So much preachinge,
Speaking fayre and teaching,
And so ill belevinge,
Saw I never.
Pickers of purses and males,
And so many sales,
Saw I never:
So much preachinge,
Speaking fayre and teaching,
And so ill belevinge,
Saw I never.
So much wrath and envy,
Covetous and glottony,
And so litle charitie,
Sawe I never:
So many carders,
Revelers and dicers,
And so many yl ticers,
Sawe I never.
Covetous and glottony,
And so litle charitie,
Sawe I never:
So many carders,
Revelers and dicers,
And so many yl ticers,
Sawe I never.
So many lollers,
So few true tollers,
So many baudes and pollers,
Sawe I never:
Such treachery,
Simony and usury,
Poverty and lechery,
Saw I never.
So few true tollers,
So many baudes and pollers,
Sawe I never:
Such treachery,
Simony and usury,
Poverty and lechery,
Saw I never.
So many avayles,
So many geales,
And so many fals baylies,
Sawe I never:
By fals and subtyll wayes
All England decayes,
For more envy and lyers
Sawe I never.
So many geales,
And so many fals baylies,
Sawe I never:
By fals and subtyll wayes
All England decayes,
For more envy and lyers
Sawe I never.
433
So new facioned jackes
With brode flappes in the neckes,
And so gay new partlettes,
Sawe I never:
So many slutteshe cookes,
So new facioned tucking hookes,
And so few biers of bookes,
Saw I never.
With brode flappes in the neckes,
And so gay new partlettes,
Sawe I never:
So many slutteshe cookes,
So new facioned tucking hookes,
And so few biers of bookes,
Saw I never.
Sometime we song of myrth and play,
But now our joy is gone away,
For so many fal in decay
Sawe I never:
Whither is the welth of England gon?
The spiritual saith they have none,
And so many wrongfully undone
Saw I never.
But now our joy is gone away,
For so many fal in decay
Sawe I never:
Whither is the welth of England gon?
The spiritual saith they have none,
And so many wrongfully undone
Saw I never.
It is great pitie that every day
So many brybors go by the way,
And so many extorcioners in eche cuntrey
Sawe I never.
To thé, Lord, I make my mone,
For thou maist healpe us everichone:
Alas, the people is so wo begone,
Worse was it never!
So many brybors go by the way,
And so many extorcioners in eche cuntrey
Sawe I never.
To thé, Lord, I make my mone,
For thou maist healpe us everichone:
Alas, the people is so wo begone,
Worse was it never!
Amendment
Were convenient,
But it may not be;
We have exiled veritie.
God is neither dead nor sicke;
He may amend al yet,
And trowe ye so in dede,
As ye beleve ye shal have mede.
After better I hope ever,
For worse was it never.
Were convenient,
But it may not be;
We have exiled veritie.
God is neither dead nor sicke;
He may amend al yet,
And trowe ye so in dede,
As ye beleve ye shal have mede.
After better I hope ever,
For worse was it never.
J. S.
Finis.
END OF VOL II.
| The Poetical Works of John Skelton | |