Songs, Carols, and other Miscellaneous Poems, from the Balliol Ms. 354, Richard Hill's Commonplace book

I had not stond ther but a while,
Ye, not þe montenance of a myle,
But a gret hart cam rennyng, withowt any gile;
With “Þer he goth, þer he goth, þer he gothe”!
How! we shall haue game & sport ynow.

3

I had no sonner my howndis lat goo,
But the hart was over-throwe,
Than euery man began to blowe,
With “trororo, trororo, trororo,”
How! we shall haue game & sport ynow.

106

90. Hoow, gossip myne, gossip myn,
Whan will we go to þe wyne,
Good gossip[is myn?]

1

I shall you tell a full good sport,
How gossippis gader them on a sort,
Ther seke bodyes to comforte
Whan they mete
In lane or stret,
God gossipis myn.

2

But I dare not, for þer dissplesans,
Tell of þes maters half the substance,
But ȝet sum what of þer gouernance,
As ferre as I dare,
I will declare,
Good gossipis myn.

3

“Good gossip myn, wher haue ye be?
Hit is so long sith I you see;
Wher is þe best wyne, tell you me!
Can ye owght tell?”
“Ye, full well,
Good gossippis myn.

107

4

I know a drawght of mery-go-down;
The beste it is in all this town,
But yet I wolde not, for my gown,
My husbond wyste.”
“Ye may me triste,
Good gossipp[is] myn.”

5

“Call forth owr gossippis by & by,
Elynore, Johan & Margery,
Margret, Alis & Cecely,
For þei will cum,
Both all & som,
Good gossippis myn, a!

6

And eche of them will sum what bryng
Gose or pigge, or capons wynge,
Pastes of pygynnes, or sum oþer thyng;
For we mvste ete
Sum maner mett,
Good gossippis myn, a!

7

Go beffore by tweyn & tweyn,
Wisely þat ye be not seen,
For I mvste home & cum a-gayn,
To witt, ywis,
Wher my husbond is,
Good gossippis myn, a!

8

A strype or two God myght send me,
Yf my husbond myght here see me.”
“She þat is a-ferde, lett her flee;”
Quod Alis than,
“I dred no man,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

9

“Now be we in þe tavern sett,
A drawght of þe best lett hym fett,
To bryng owr husbondis owt of dett;
For we will spend
Till God more send,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

10

Eche of them browght forth þer disshe,
Sum browght flesshe, & sum [browght] fisshe.
Quod Margret meke now with a wisshe:
“I wold Anne were here,
She wold mak vs chere,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

11

“How say ye, gossippis? Is þis wyn good?”
“Þat is it,” quod Elynore, “by þe rode!
It chereth þe hart & comforteth þe blod.
Such jonkers amonge
Shall make vs leve long.
Good gossippis [myn, a]!”

12

Anne bade me fill a pot of Muscadell,
“For of all wynes I love it well;
Swet wynes kepe my body in hele;
Yf I had it nowght,
I shuld tak thowght,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

13

“How loke ye, gossip, at þe bordis end?
Not mery, gossip? God it amend!
All shall be well, els God defend;
Be mery & glad
& sit not so sade,
Good gossip myn, a!”

14

“Wold God I had don after your covnsell,

108

For my husbond is so fell,
He betith me lyke þe devill of hell,
And þe more I crye,
Þe lesse mercy,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

15

Alis with a lowde voys spak than:
“Evis,” she said, “litill good he can,
Þat betith or striketh any woman,
And specially his wyff,
God geve hym short lyff,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

16

Margret meke said: “So mot I thryve,
I know no man þat is a-lyve,
Þat gevith me II strokis, bvt he haue V:
I am not afferd,
Thowgh he haue a berde,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

17

On cast down her shot, & went a-way:
“Gossip,” quod Elynore, “what dide she pay?”
“Not but a peny: loo, þer-for I say,
She shall no more
Be of owr lore,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

18

“Suche gestis we may haue ynow,
Þat will not for þer shot alowe;
With whom com she, gossip?” “With you.”
“Nay,” quod Johan,
“I com aloon,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

19

“Now rekyn owr shot, & go we hens;
What cummeth to eche of vs?” “But IIId.”
“Parde, þis is but a small expens
For suche a sorte,
& all but sporte,
Good gossipis myn, a!”

20

“Torn down þe stret, whan ye cum owt,
& we will cumpas rownd a-bowt.”
“Gossip,” quod Anne, “what nedith þat dowt?
Your husbond is pleased,
Whan ye be eased,
Good gossippis myn, a!

21

What-so-euer any man thynk,
We com for nowght but for good drynk;
Now let vs go home & wynke,
For it may be seen
Wher we haue ben,
Good gossippis myn, a!”

22

This is þe thowght þat gossippis take:
Ons in þe wek, mery will they make,
& all small drynkis þei will forsake;
But wyne of þe best
Shall have no rest,
Good gossippis myn, a!

23

Sum be at þe tavern IIIse in þe weke,
& so be sum euery day eke,
Or ellis þei will gron & mak them sek,
For thyngis vsed
Will not be refused;
Good gossippis myn, a!

Explicit.

109

91. In villa, in villa, quid vidistis in villa?

1

Many a man blamys his wyffe parde;
Yet he ys more to blame than she,
Trow ye þat any suche ther be
In villa?

2

Ye, ye, hold your pease, for shame!
By owr Lady, ye be to blame,
Wene you that womenys tongis be lame
In villa?

3

Nay, God for-bede! yt ys naturall
For them to be right lyberall,
Now I report me, overall
In villa.

4

On thyng for-soth I haue esspyed;
All women be not tong-tyed;
For yf they be, they be by-lyed
In villa.

5

Yff owght be sayd to them, sertayn,
Wene you þei will not answer a-gayn?
Yes, for euery word, twayn!
In villa.

6

Now, in gud feyth, the soth to say,
They haue gret cavse, from day to day,
For they may nother sport ne play
In villa.

7

Þer husbondis controll them so streytly;
But ȝet no force for þat hardely;
Þer skuse shall be made full craftyly
In villa.

8

How say ye, women þat husbondis haue?
Will not ye ther honowr saue,
& call them ‘lowsy stynkyng knave’?
In villa!

9

Yes, so haue I hard tell or this,
Not fer owt of this cuntrey ywys,
Of sum of them, men shall not mys,
In villa.

10

God wot, gret cavse þei haue a-mong;
But dowt ye not, ther hartis be strong,
For they may sofer no maner wrong
In villa.

11

And yff þei dyde, ther hartis wold brest,
Wher-for in feyth I hold yt best,
Lett them a-lone with evyll rest
In villa.

12

Ye, husbondis all, with on asent,
Lett your wyffys haue þer yntent,
Or suerly ye will be shent
In villa.

13

Ytt ys hard a-yenst þe strem to stryve,
For hym þat cast hym for to thryve,
He mvst aske leve of hys wyff,
In villa.

14

Or ellis by God & by the rode,
Be he never so wyld & wode,
Hys here shall grow thorow his hode
In villa.

Explicit.

110

92. Hay, hey, hey, hey,
I will haue the whetston, and I may.

1

I sawe a doge sethyng sowse,
& an ape thechyng an howse,
And a podyng etyng a mowse,
I will haue þe whetston, & I may.

2

I sawe an vrchyn shape & sewe
And a-noder bake & brewe,
Scowre the pottis as þei were newe,
I will haue þe whetston, & I may.

3

I sawe a code-fysshe corn sowe,
& a worm a whystyll blowe,
& a pye tredyng a crow,
I will haue þe whetston, & I may.

4

I sawe a stokfysshe drawyng a harow,
& a-noder dryveyng a barow,
& a saltfysshe shotyng an arow.
I will haue þe whetston, & I may.

5

I sawe a bore, burdeyns bynd,
& a froge, clewens wynd,
& a tode, mvstard grynd,
I will haue þe whetston, & I may.

6

I sawe a sowe bere kyrchers to wasshe;
The second sowe had an hege to plasshe;
Þe IIIde sow went to þe barn to throsshe,
I will haue þe whetston, & I may.

7

I sawe an ege etyng a pye;
Geve me drynke, my mowth ys drye;
Yet ys not long syth I made a lye.
I will haue þe whetston, & I may.

Explicit.

93. “Alas,” sayd þe gudman, “this ys an hevy lyff”;
“And all ys well þat endyth well,” said þe gud wyff.

1

A lytill tale I will you tell,
The very trowth, how it befell,
& was trew as þe gosspell.
Att þe townys end.

2

Betwen þe gudman & his make,
A lytill stryf be-gon to wake;
Þe wyff was sum-what shrew shake,
At þe townys end.

3

He gafe a thyng ther hym lyst,
As son as his wyff yt wyst,
Vp she stode, & bent her fyst,
At the townys end.

4

“Thou knave, þou churle,” gan she say,
“In the XXte devyls way,
Who bade the geve my gud a-way
At the townys end?

111

5

Þou traytor, þou thef, þou mysguerned man!
To love þe furst when I began,
I wold þou had be hangyd than
At þe townys end.”

6

He lent her a strype, two or III,
“Owt, alas!” then cryed she,
“I aske a vengance, thef, on the,
At þe townys end.

7

Thou stynkyng coward! so haue I grace,
Þou daryst not loke a man in the face,
Now lett them say I know the cace,
At þe townys ende.”

8

“What, dame, what hast þou but of me;
& I haue no-thyng of the
But chydyng, brawlyng; evyll mvst þou the
At þe townys end.”

9

The gudman myght no lengar forbere,
But smote hys wyff on the ere,
Þat she ouer threw: then lay she ther,
At þe townys end.

10

“Alas,” she sayd, “I am but dede:
I trow þe brayn be owt of my hed”;
& yet þer was no blod shed
At þe townys end.

11

“Gett me a priest, þat I were shryve;
For I wot well I shall not lyve,
For I shall dye or to-morow eve
At þe townys end.”

12

This tale must nedis trew be;
For he þat sawe yt, told yt me;
Aske ferder, & know shall ye,
At þe townys end.

13

Now euery man þat ys a-lone,
Þat shuld be weddyd to such a on,
I cownsayl hym raþer to haue non
At þe townys end;

14

Lest he be knokked a-bowt þe pate;
Then to repent yt ys to late,
When on his cheke he ys chekmate,
[At þe townys end.]

Explicit.

112

95. Of all creatures women be best;
Cuius contrarium verum est.

fote.

1

In euery place ye may well see
That women be trewe as tirtyll on tree,
Not lyberall in langage, but euer in secree,
& gret joye a-monge them ys for to be:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

2

The stedfastnes of women will neuer be don,
So jentyll, so curtes they be euery-chon,
Meke as a lambe, still as a stone,
Croked nor crabbed, fynd ye none:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

3

Men be more cumbers a thowsand fold;
& I mervayll how they dare be so bold,
Agaynst women for to hold,
Seyng them so pascyent, softe & cold:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

4

For, tell a woman all your cownsayle,
& she can kepe it wonderly well;
She had lever go quyk to hell
Than to her neyghbowr she wold it tell:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

5

For by women, men be reconsiled;
For by women, was neuer man begiled,
For they be of þe condicion of curtes Gryzell,
For they be so meke & mylde:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

6

Now say well by women, or ellis be still,
For they neuer displesed man by þer will;
To be angry or wroth they can no skill,
For I dare say they thynk non yll:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

113

7

Trow ye þat women list to smater,
Or a-gaynst þer husbondis for to clater?
Nay, they had leuer fast bred & water
Then for to dele in suche a mater:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

8

Thowgh all þe paciens in þe world were drownd,
& non were lefte here on the grownd,
Agayn in a woman it myght be fownd,
Suche vertu in them dothe abownd:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

9

To þe tavern they will not goo,
Nor to þe ale-hows neuer the moo,
For, God wot, þer hartis wold be woo
To spende ther husbondis money soo:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

10

Yff here were a woman or a mayd
That lyst for to go fresshely arayed,
Or with fyne kyrchers to go displayed
Ye wold say “they be prowde”: it is yll said:
Cuius [contrarium verum est.]

96. Women, women, love of women
Maketh bare pursis with sum men

fote.

1

Sum be mery, & sum be sade,
& sum be besy, & sum be bade;
Sum be wilde, by seynt Chade,
Yet all be not so;
For sum be lewed, & sum be shrewed;
Go, shrew, wher-so-euer ye go.

2

Sum be wyse, & sum be fonde;
Sum be tame, I vnderstond;
Sum will take bred at a mannus hond,
Yet all be not so;
For sum be lewde, & sum be shrewed;
Go, shrew, wher-so-euer ye go.

3

Sum be wroth, & can not tell wherfore;
Sum be skornyng evermore;
& sum be tusked lyke a bore;
Yet all be not so:
For sum be lewed, & sum be shrewed:
Go, shrewe, wher-so-euer ye go.

4

Sum will be dronkyn as a mowse;
Sum be croked, & will hurte a lowse;
Sum be fayre, & good in a hows;
Yet all be not so:
For sum be lewed, & sum be shrewed;
Go, shrewe, wher-so-euer ye go.

5

Sum be snowted like an ape;
Sum can nother play ne jape;
Sum of them be well shape;
Yet all be not so:
For sum be lewed, & sum be shrewed;
Go, shrewe, wher-so-euer ye go.

114

6

Sum can prate withowt hire;
Sum make bate in euery shire;
Sum can play chek-mate with owr sire,
Yet all they do not so:
For sum be lewed, & sum be shrewed;
Go, shrew, wher-so-euer ye go.

Explicit.

116

99. [The Holly and the Ivy.]

Nay, nay, Ive, it may not be, iwis,
For holy must haue þe mastry, as þe maner is.

1

Holy berith beris, beris rede ynowgh;
Þe thristilcok, þe popyngay, dance in euery bow[gh];
Welaway, sory ivy, what fowles hast thow

117

But þe sory howlet þat syngith “How-how”?
Na[y, nay, Ive, it may not be, iwis,
For holy must haue þe mastry, as þe maner is.]

2

Ivy berith beris as blak as any sho,
Þer commeth þe woode-coluer, & fedith her of tho;
She liftith vp her tayll, & she cakkis or she go:
She wold not for C. li. serue holy soo:
[Nay, nay, Ive, it may not be, iwis,
For holy must haue þe mastry, as þe maner is.]

3

Holy with his mery men, they can dance in hall;
Ivy & her jentyl women can not dance at all,
But lyke a meyny of bullokkis in a water fall,
Or on a whot somers day, whan they be mad all:
Nay, [nay, Ive, it may not be, iwis,
For holy must haue þe mastry, as þe maner is.]

4

Holy & his mery men sytt in cheyres of gold;
Ivy & her jentyll women sytt with-owt in fold,
With a payre of kybid helis cawght with cold;
So wold I þat euery man had, þat with yvy will hold.
Nay, [nay, Ive, it may not be, iwis,
For holy must haue þe mastry, as þe maner is.]

Explicit.

100. [Bon jour!]

Bonjowre, bonjowre a vous!
I am cum vnto this hows,
Vt parla pompe, I say.

1

I[s] þer any good man here,
Þat will make me any chere?
& if þer were,
I wold cum nere,
To wit what he wold say.
A! will ye be wild?
Be Mary myld,
I trow ye will synge gay!
Bon Jowre!

2

Be gladly, masters, euery-chon,
I am cum my self alone,
To appose you, on by on;
Let se who dare say nay!
Sir, what say ye?
Syng on, lett vs see!
Now, will it be
Thys or an other day?
Bon Jowre!

118

3

Loo, this is he þat will do þe dede,
He tempereth his mowth; þerfore take hede!
Syng softe, I say, leste yowr nose blede,
For hurt yowr self ye may.
But, by God þat me bowght,
Your brest is so towght,
Tyll ye haue well cowght,
Ye may not þer-with a-way;
Boniowr!

4

Sir, what say ye with your face so lene?
Ye syng noþer good tenowre, treble ne mene.
Vtter not your voice withowt your brest be clene,
Hartely I you pray.
I hold you excused,
Ye shall be refused,
For ye haue not be vsed
To no good sport nor play.
Bon Jowre!

5

Sir, what say ye with your fat face?
Me thynkith ye shuld bere a very good bace
To a pot of good ale or ipocras,
Truly, as I you say.
Hold vp your hede,
Ye loke lyke lede,
Ye wast myche bred,
Euer more from day to day.
Bon Joure!

6

Now will ye see, wher he stondith behynde?
Iwis, broþer, ye be vnkynd:
Stond forth & wast with me som wynd,
For ye haue ben called a synger ay.
Nay, be not a-shamed,
Ye shall not be blamed,
For ye haue ben famed
The worst in this contrey.
Bon Jowre!

Explicit.

101. [Ho, butler, ho!]

How, butler, how! Bevis, a towt!
Fill þe boll, jentill butler, & let þe cup rowght!

1

Jentill butler, bellamy,
Fyll þe boll by þe eye
Þat we may drynk by & by,
With how, butler, how! Bevis, a towt!
Fill þe boll, butler, & let þe cup rowght!

2

Here is mete for vs all,
Both for gret & for small;

119

I trow we must þe butlar call,
With how, butler, how! Bevis, a towght!
Fill þe boll, butler, & lett þe cupe rowght!

3

I am so dry, I can not spek;
I am nygh choked with my mete;
I trow þe butler be a-slepe,
With how, butler, how! Bevis, a towght!
Fill þe boll, butler, [& let þe cup rowght!]

4

Butler, butler, fill þe boll,
Or ellis I beshrewe thy noll,
I trow we must þe bell toll,
With how, butler, how! Bevis, a towght!
Fill þe boll, [butler, & let þe cup rowght!]

5

Iff þe butlers name be Water,
I wold he were a galow-claper;
But if he bryng vs drynk þe raþer,
With how, butler, how! Bevis, a towght!
Fill [þe boll, butler, & let þe cup rowght!]

Explicit.

University of Virginia Library

V. Ballads and Worldly Songs. Humorous and Satirical Pieces.

86. Lully, lulley, lully, lulley! Þe fawcon hath born my mak away.

1

2

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87. [How! we shall have game & sport ynow!]

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90. Hoow, gossip myne, gossip myn, Whan will we go to þe wyne, Good gossip[is myn?]

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91. In villa, in villa, quid vidistis in villa?

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92. Hay, hey, hey, hey, I will haue the whetston, and I may.

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93. “Alas,” sayd þe gudman, “this ys an hevy lyff”; “And all ys well þat endyth well,” said þe gud wyff.

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95. Of all creatures women be best; Cuius contrarium verum est. fote.

1

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3

4

86. Lully, lulley, lully, lulley!
Þe fawcon hath born my mak away.

90. Hoow, gossip myne, gossip myn,
Whan will we go to þe wyne,
Good gossip[is myn?]

92. Hay, hey, hey, hey,
I will haue the whetston, and I may.

93. “Alas,” sayd þe gudman, “this ys an hevy lyff”;
“And all ys well þat endyth well,” said þe gud wyff.

95. Of all creatures women be best;
Cuius contrarium verum est.

fote.

96. Women, women, love of women
Maketh bare pursis with sum men

fote.

Nay, nay, Ive, it may not be, iwis,
For holy must haue þe mastry, as þe maner is.

Bonjowre, bonjowre a vous!
I am cum vnto this hows,
Vt parla pompe, I say.

How, butler, how! Bevis, a towt!
Fill þe boll, jentill butler, & let þe cup rowght!