 | Hyckescorner |  |
Now Ihū ye gentyll yt bought Adam fro hell
Saue you all soueraynes & solas you sende
And or this mater that I begynne to tell
I praye you of audyence tyll I haue made an ende
For I saye to you my name is pyte
That euer yet hath ben mannes frende
In the bosome of the seconde persone in trynyte
I sprange as a plante mannes mysse to amende
You for to helpe I put to my honde
Recorde I take of mary that wepte teres of blode
I pyte within her herte dyde stonde
whan she sawe her sone on the rode
The swerde of sorowe gaue that lady wounde
whan a spere claue her sones herte a sondre
She cryed out and fell to the grounde
Thoughe she was woo hyt was lytell wonder
This delycate colour that goodly lady
Full pale and wanne she sawe her sone all deed
Splayed on a crosse with the fyue welles of pyte
Of purple veluet poudred with roses reed
Lo I pyte thus made your erande to be spede
Or elles man for euer sholde haue ben forlorne
A mayden so layde his lyfe to wedde
Crowned as a kynge the thornes prycked hym sore
Charyte and I of true loue ledes the double rayne
who so me loueth dampned neuer shall be
Of some vertuous company I wolde be fayne
For all that wyll to heuen nedes must come by me
Chefe porter I am in that heuenly cyte
And now here wyll I rest me a lytell space
Some vertuous felyshyp for to sende
Contemplacyon.
Cryste that was crystened crucyfyed & crowned
In his bosum true loue was gaged with a spere
His vaynes braste & brosed and to a pyller bounde
with scourges he was lasshed ye knottes ye skyn tare
On his necke to caluary the grete crosse he bare
His blode ran to the grounde as scrypture doth tel
His burden was so heuy that downe vnder it he fel
Lo I am kynne to the lorde whiche is goddes sone
My name is wryten formest in the boke of lyfe
For I am perfyte contemplacyon
And brother to holy chyrche yt is our lordes wyfe
Iohan baptyst Anthony & Iherome wt many mo
Folowed me here in holte hethe and in wyldernes
I euer with them went where they dyde go
Nyght & daye towarde the waye of ryghtwysenes
I am the chefe lanterne of all holynes
Of prelates and preestes I am theyr patron
No armure so stronge in no dystresse
Habergyon helme ne yet no Ieltron
To fyght with sathan I am the champyon
That dare abyde and manfully stonde
Fendes fle awaye where they se me come
But I wyll shewe you why I came to this londe
For to preche and teche of goddes soth sawes
Ayenst vyce ye dothe rebell ayenst hym & his lawes.
Pyte.
God spede good broder fro whēs came you now
Contem.
Syr I came frome perseueraunce to seke you
Pyte.
Why syr knowe you me
Contem.
Ye syr and haue done longe your name is pyte
Your name fayne wolde I knowe
Contem.
In dede I am called contemplacyon
That vseth to lyue solytaryly
In wodes and in wyldernesse I walke alone
Bycause I wolde saye my prayers deuoutly
I loue not with me to haue moche company
But perseueraunce ofte with me doth mete
Whan I thynke on thoughtes that is full heuenly
Thus he and I togyder full swetely doth slepe
Pyte.
I thanke god that we be mette togyder
Contem.
Syr I trust yt perseuerūce shortly wyll come hyder
Pyte.
Than I thynke to here some good tydynge
Contem.
I warant you brother that he is comynge
Perseue.
The eternall god that named was was messyas
He gyue you grace to come to his glorye
Wher euer is Ioye in the celestyall place
Whan you of sathan wynneth the vyctorye
Euery man ought to be gladde to haue in company
For I am named good perseueraunce
That euer is guyded by vertuous gouernaunce
I am neuer varyable but doth contynue
Styll goynge vpwarde the ladder of grace
And lode in me planted is so true
And fro yt poore man I wyll neuer tourne my face
Whan I go by my selfe ofte I do remembre
The grete knydnes that god shewed vnto man
For to be borne in the moneth of decembre
Whan the daye waxeth shorte and the nyght longt
Of his goodnesse that champyon stronge
Descended downe fro the fader of ryghtwysnes
And rested in mary the floure of mekenes
To seke contemplacyon my knynnesman
Contem.
what brother perseueraunce ye be welcome
Perseue.
And so be you also contemplacyon
Contem.
Loo here is our mayster pyte
Perseue.
Now truly ye be welcome in to this countre
Pyte.
I thanke you hertely syr perseueraunce
Perseue.
Mayst pyte one thȳge is com to my remēbraūce
what tythynges here you now
Pyte.
Syr suche as I can I shall shewe you
I haue herde many men complayne pyteously
They saye they be smyten wt the swerde of pouerty
In euery place where I do go
Fewe frendes pouerte dooth fynde
And these ryche men ben vnkynde
For theyr neyghboures they wyll nought do
wydowes dooth curse lordes and gentyll men
For they constrayne them to mary with theyr men
ye wheder they wyll or no
Men mary for good and that is dampnable
ye with olde women that is fyfty and beyonde
The peryll now no man drede wyll
All is not goddes lawe that is vsed in londe
Beware wyll they not tyll deth in his honde
Taketh his swerde & smyteth asonder ye lyfe vayne
And wt his mortall stroke cleueth ye herte atwayne
They trust so in mercy the lanterne of bryghtnesse
That no thynge do they drede goddes ryghtwysnes
Perseue.
O Ihesu syr here is a heuy tydynge
Pyte.
Syr this is trewe that I do brynge
Contem.
How am I beloued mayster pyte where ye come
In good faythe people haue now small deuocyon
And as for with you brother contemplacyon
There medleth fewe or none
Contem.
Yes I trust that prestes loue me wele
Pyte.
But a fewe Iwys and some neuer adele
Contem.
Why syr without me they maye not lyue clene
Pyte.
Nay yt is yt leest thoughe ye they haue of fyftene
And that maketh me full heuy
Contem.
How trowe you that there be no remedy
Pyte.
Full harde for synne is now so greuous and yll
That I thynke that it be growen to an impossyble
And yet one thynge maketh me euer mournynge
That prestes lack vtteraūce to showe theyr cūnȳge
And al the whyle that clerkes do vse so grete synne
Amonge the lay people loke neuer for no mendȳge
Perseue.
Alas that is a heuy case
That so grete synnne is vsed in euery place
I praye god hyt amende
Contem.
Now god that euer hath ben mannes frende
Some better tydynges soone vs sende
For now I must be gone
Fare well good bretherne here
A grete erande I haue elles where
That must nedes be done
I trust I wyll not longe tary
Theder wyll I hye me shortely
And come agayne whan I haue done
Perseue.
Hyder agayne I trust you wyll come
Therfore god be with you
Contem.
Syr nedes I must departe now
Ihesu me spede this daye
Now brother contemplacyon let vs go our waye
Frewyll
Aware felowes and stande a roume
How saye you am not I a goodly personue
I trowe you knowe not suche ageste
What syrres I tell you my name is frewyll
I maye chose wheder I do good or yll
But for all that I wyll do as me lyst
My condycyons ye knowe not perde
I can fyght chyde and be mery
Full soone of my company ye wolde be wery
And you knewe all
What fyll the cup and make good chere
I trowe I haue a noble here
who lente hyt me by cryste a frere
And I gaue hym a fall
where be ye syr be ye at home
Kockes passyon my noble is tourned to a stone
Where laye I last beshrewe your herte Ione
Now by these bones she hathe begyled me
Let se a peny my souper a pece of flesshe .x. pence
My bedde ryght uought let all this expence
Now by these bones I haue lost an halfpeny
Who [OMITTED]ye there my felowe Imagynacyon
He and I had good communycacyon
Of syr Iohan and sybbell
How they were spyed in bedde togyder
And he prayed her ofte to come thyder
For to synge lo le lo lowe
They twayne togyder had good sporte
But at the stewes syde I lost a grote
I trowe I shall nener ythe
But I trowe the horesone be a slepe
With a wenche some where
How Imagynacyon come hyder
And you thryue I lose a feder
Beshrowe your herte appere
Imagy.
what how how who called after me
Frewyll
Come nere ye shall neuer I the
where haue ye be so longe
Imagy.
By god with me hyt is all wronge
I haue apayre of sore buttockes
All in Irons was my songe
Euen now I satte gyued in a payre of stockes
Frewyll
Cockes passyon and how so
Imagy.
Syr I wyll tell you what I haue do
I mette with a wenche and she was fayre
And of loue hertely I dyde praye her
And so promysed her monaye
Syr she wynked on me and sayd nought
But by her loke I knewe her thought
Than in to loues daunce we were brought
That we played the pyrdewy
I wote not what we dyde togyder
But a knaue catchpoll nyghed vs nere
And so dyde vs aspye
A strype he gaue me I fledde my touche
And frome my gyrdle he plucked my pouche
By your leue he lefte me neuer a peny
Loo nought haue I but a buckyll
Ane yet I can Imagen thynges sotyll
For to get monaye plenty
To me is kynne many a grete gentyll man
I am knowen in euery countre
And I were deed the lawyers thryfte were lost
For this wyll I do yf men wolde do cost
Proue ryght wronge and all by reason
And make men lese bothe hous and londe
For all that they can do in a lytell season
Peche men of treason preuyly I can
And whan me lyst to hange a trewe man
If they wyll me monaye tell
Theues I can helpe out of pryson
And in to lordes fauours I can get me soone
And be of theyr preuy counseyll
But frewyll my dere broder
Sawe you not of hyckscorner
He promysed me to come hyder
Frewyll.
why syr knowest thou hym
Imagy.
ye ye man he is full nye of my kynne
And in newgate we dwelled togyder
For he and I were bothe shakeled in a fetter
Frewyll
Syr laye you beneth or on hye on the seller
Imagy.
Nay ywys amōge ye thyckest of yemē of the coller
Frewyll
By god than ye were in grete fere
Imagy.
Syr had not I be .cc. had be thrast in an haltere
Frewyll
And what lyfe haue they there al that grete sorte
Imagy.
By god syr ones a yere som taw halts of burport
ye at tyburne there stondeth the grrte frame
And some take a fall that maketh theyr neck lame
Frewyll.
ye but can they than go nomore
Imagy.
O no man the wrest is twyste so sore
By god theyr brethe is stopped at ones
Frewyll
Why do they praye in that place there
Imagy.
Ye syr they stonde in grete fere
And so fast tangled in that snare
Hyt falleth to theyr lotte to haue the same share
Frewyll
That is a knauisshe syght to se thē tote on a beme
Imagy.
Syr the horesones coude not conuaye clene
For and they coude haue caryed by crafte as I can
In processe of yeres eche of thē sholde be a gētyll mā
yet as for me I was neuer thefe
Yf my hādes were smytē of I can stele wt my tethe
For ye knowe well there is crafte in daubynge
I can loke in a mannes face and pycke his purse
And tell newe tydynges yt was neuer trewe ywys
For my hood is all lyned with lesynge
Frewyll.
ye but wente ye neuer to tyburne a pylgrymage
Imagy.
No ywys nor none of my lygnages
For we be clerkes all and can our necke verse
And wt an oyntment the Iuges hāde I can grece
That wyll hele sores that be vncurable
Frewyll
Why were ye neuer founde reprouable
Imagy.
yes ones I stall a hors in the felde
And lepte on hym for to haue ryden my waye
At the last a bayly me mette and behelde
And badde me stonde than was I in a fraye
He asked wheder with that horse I wolde gon
And than I tolde hym hyt was myne owne
He sayd I hadde stollen hym and I sayde naye
This is sayd he my brothers hacknaye
For and I had not scused me without fayle
And than I tolde hym ye horse was lyke myne
A browne baye a longe mane & dyde halte behyne
Thus I tolde hȳ yt such an other hors I dyde lacke
And yet I neuer sawe hym nor came on his backe
So I delyuered hym the hors agayne
And whan he was gone than was I fayne
For and I had not scused me the better
I knowe well I sholde haue daunsed in a fetter
Frewyll
And sayd he nomore to the but so
Imagy.
Yes he pretended me moche harme to do
But I tolde hȳ that mornynge wns a grete myste
That what horse hyt was I ne wyste
Also I sayd that in my heed I had the megryne
That made me dasell so in myne eyen
That I myght not well se
And thus he departed shortely frome me
Frewyll
Ye but where is hyckscorner now
Imagy.
Some of these yonge men hathe hydde hym in
theyr bosomes I warraunt you
Imagy.
Let vs make a crye that he maye vs here
Frewyll.
How how hyckscorner appere
I trowe thou be hyde in some cornere
Hyckscor.
Ale the helme ale vere shot of vere sayle vera
Frewyll
Cockes body herke he is in a shyppe on the see
Hyckscor.
God spede god spede who called after me
Imagy.
what brother welcome by this precyous body
I am gladde that I you se
Hyt was tolde me that ye were hanged
But out of what countre come ye
Hytkscor.
Syr I haue ben in many a countre
Portyngale seuyll also in almayne
Freslonde flaunders and in burgoyne
Calabre poyle and erragoyne
Brytayne byske and also in gascoyne
Naples grece and in myddes of scotlonde
At cape saynt vyncent & in the newe foūde Ilonde
I haue ben in gene and in cowe
Also in the londe of rumbelowe
Thre myle out of hell
At rodes constantyne and in babylonde
In cornewale and in no northumberlonde
Where men sethe russhes in gruell
Ye syr in caldey tartare and Iude
And in ye londe of women yt fewe men dothe fynde
In all these countres haue I be
Frewyll.
Syr what tydynges here ye now on the see
Hyckscor.
We mette of shyppes a grete naue
Full of people that wolde in to Irlonde
And they came out of this countre
They wyll neuer more come to englonde
Imagy.
Whens were ye shyppes of them knowest yu none
Hyckscor.
Herkē & I wyll shewe you theyr names eche one
Fyrst was the regent with the myghell of brykylse
The george with the gabryell and the anne of foye
The starre of salte asshe with the Ihesus of plūoth
Also the hermytage with the barbara of darmouth
The nycolas and the mary bellouse of brystowe
With the elyn of london and Iames also
Grete was the people that was in them
All true relygyous and holy women
with pacyence mekenes and humylyte
And all true maydens with theyr vyrgynyte
Ryall prechers sadnes and charyte
Ryght conscyence and fayth with deuocyon
And all true monkes that kepte theyr relyon
True byers and sellers and almes dede doers
Pyteous people that be of synne destroyers
with Iust abstynence and good counseyllers
Mourners for synne with lamentacyon
And good ryche men yt helpeth folke out of pryson
True wedlocke was there also
with yonge men that euer in prayer dyde go
The shyppes were ladē wt suche vnhappy company
But at the laste god shope a remedy
For they all in the see were drounde
And on a quycke sonde they strake to grounde
The see swalowed them euerychone
I wote wote well alyue there scaped none
Imagy.
Lo now my herte is gladde and mery
For Ioye now let vs synge dery dery
Hyckscor
Felowes they shall neuer more vs withstonde
For I se them all drwned in the rase of Irlonde
Frewyll.
ye but yet herke hyckescorner
what company was in your shyppe that came ouer
Hyckscor.
Syr I wyll sayd you to vnderstande
There were good felawes aboue fyue thousande
And all they ben kynne to vs thre
There was falshode fauell and sotylte
ye theues and hores with other good company
Lyers bacbyters and flaterers the whyle
Walkers by nyght with gret e murderers
Ouerthwarte gyle and Ioly carders
Oppressers of people with many swerers
There was false lawe with oryble vengeaunce
Frowarde obstynacyō wt myseheuous gouernaūce
Wanton wenches and also mychers
With many other of the deuylles offycers
And haterede that is so myghty and stronge
Hath made auowe for euer to dwell in englonde
Imagy.
But is that true that thou doste shewe now
Hyckscor.
Syr euery worde as I do tell you
Frewyll.
Of whens is your shyppe of london
Hyckscor.
Ye ywys frome thens dyde she come
And she is named the enuy
I tell you a grete vessell and a myghty
The owner of her is called yll wyll
Brother to Iacke poller of shoters hyll
Imagy.
Syr what offyce in the shyppe bare ye
Hyckscor
Mary I kepte a fayre shoppe of baudrye
I had thre wenches that were full praty
Iane true and thryftles and wanton sybble
If ye ryde her a Iournay she wyll make you wery
For she is trusty at nede
If ye wyll hyre her for your pleasure
I warraunt tere her shall ye neuer
She is so sure in dede
Ryde and you wyll ten tymes adaye
I warraunt you she wyll neuer saye naye
My lyfe I dare laye to wedde
Imagy.
Now plucke vp your hertes & make good chere
Now vertu shall drawe arere arere
Herke felous a good sporte I can you tell
At the stues we wyll lye to nyght
And by my trouth yf all go aryght
I wyll begyle some praty wenche
To gette me monaye at a pynche
How saye you shall we go thyder
Let vs kepe company all togyder
And I wolde that we had goddes curse
If we some where do not get a purse
Euery man bere his dagger naked in his honde
And yf we mete a treue man make hym stonde
Or elles that he bere a strype
If that he struggle ond make ony werke
Lyghtly stryke hym to the herte
And throwe hym into temmes quyte
Frewyll.
Naye thre knaues in a lease is good at nale
But thou lubber Imagynacyon
That cukcolde thy fader where is he become
At newgate dothe he ly styll at gayle
Imagy.
Auaut horesone thou shalte bere me a strype
Sayst thou that my moder was a hore
Frewyll.
Naye syr but the last nyght
I sawe syr Iohne and she tombled on the flore
Imagy.
Now by kockes herte thou shalte lose an arme
Hyckscor
Naye syr I charge you do hym no harme
Imagy.
And yu make to moche I wyll breke thy heed to
Hyckscor
By saynt mary and I wyst that I wolde be ago
Imagy.
Aware aware the horsone shall aby
His preest wyll I be by cockes body
Kepe pease lest knaues blode be shedde
Frewyll.
By god yf his was nought mȳ was as badde
Imagy.
By kockes herte he shall dye on this dager
Hyckscor
By our lady than wyll ye be straūgled in a halter
Imagy.
The horesone shall ete hȳ as fer as he shyll wade
Hyckscor.
Beshrewe your herte and put vp your blade
Shethe your whytell or by hyȝ yt was neuer borne
I wyll rappe you on the costarde with my horne
What wyll ye playe all the knaue
Imagy.
By kockes herte and thou a buffet shalte haue
Frewyll.
Lo syrres here is afayre company god vs saue
For yf ony of vs thre be mayre of london
Iwys ywys I wyll ryde to rome on my thom
Alas a se is not this a grete feres
I wolde they were in a myll pole aboue the eres
And thā I durst warraūt they wold departe anone
Hyckscor
Helpe helpe for the passyon of my soule
He hath made a grete hole in my poule
That all my wytte is set to the grounde
Alas a leche for to helpe my wounde
Imagy.
Naye ywys horesone I wyll bete the or I go
Frewyll.
Alas good syr what haue I do
Imagy.
Ware make rome he shall haue a strype I trowe
Pyte.
Peas peas syrres I commaunde you
Imagy.
Auaunt olde churle whens comest thou
And thou make to moche I shall breke thy browe
And sende the home agayne
Pyte.
A good syr the peas I wolde haue kepte fayne
Myne offyce is to se no man slayne
And where they do amyse to gyue thē good coūseyl
Synne to forsake and goddes lawe them tell
A syr I wende thou haddest ben drowned & gone
But I haue spyed that there scaped one
Hyckscor.
Imagynacyon do by the counseyll of me
Be a greed with frewyll & lette vs good felowes be
And than as for this chorle pyte
Shall curse the tyme that euer he came to londe
Imagy.
Brother frewyll gyue me your honde
And all myne yll wyll I forgyue the
Frewyll.
Syr I thanke you hertely
But what shall we do with this chorle pyte
Imagy.
I wyll go to hym and pyke a quarell
And make hym a thefe and saye he dyde stele
Of myne forty pounde in a bagge
Frewyll.
By god that tydynges wyll make hym sadde
And I wyll go fetche apayre of gyues
For in good faythe he shall besette fast by the heles
Hyckscor.
Haue ado lyghtly and be gone
And let vs twayne with hym alone
Frewyll.
Now farewell I beshrewe you euery chone
Hyckscor.
Ho ho frewyll you threwe and no mo
Imagy.
Thou lewde felowe sayst yu that thy name is pite
Who sente the hyder to controll me
Pyte.
Good syr hyt is my properte
For to dyspyse synfull lyuynge
And vnto vertu men to brynge
If that they wyll do after me
Imagy.
What syr arte thou so pope holy
A se this caytyfe wolde be praysed I trowe
And you thryue this yere I wyll lose a peny
Lo syrres outwarde he bereth a fayre face
But and he mette with a wenche in a preuy place
By god ye maye trust me
Hyckscor.
Loo wyll ye not se this caytyues menynge
He wolde destroye vs all and all our kynne
yet had I leuer se hym hanged by the chynne
Rather than that sholde be brought aboute
And with this dager thou shalte haue a cloute
without thou wylte be lyghtly be gone
Imagy.
Naye brother laye honde on hym soone
For he Iaped my wyfe and made me cukolde
And yet the traytoue was so bolde
That he stale forty pounde of myne in monaye
Hyckscor
By sa ynt mary than he shall not scape
we wyll lede hym streyght to newgate
For euer there shall he lye
Frewyll.
A se a se syrres what I haue brought
A medycyne for a payre of sore shynnes
At the kynges benche syrres I haue you sought
But I praye you who shall were these
Hyckscor.
By god this felowe that maye not go hence
I wyll go gyue hym these hose rynges
Now yfaythe they be worth forty pence
But to his hondes I lacke two bondes
Imagy.
Holde horesone here is an halter
Bynde hym fast and make hym sure
Pyte.
O men let trouth that is the trewe man
Be your guyder or elles ye be forlorne
Laye no fals wytnes as nye as ye can
On none for afterwarde ye wyll repent hyt full sore
Frewyll.
Naye naye I care not therfore
Hyckscor
ye whan my soule hāgeth on ye hedge cast stones.
Thou shalte be guyded and layd in Irons
They fared euen so
Pyte.
Awaye syr what haue I do
Imagy.
Well well that thou shalte knowe or thou go
Pyte.
O syrres I se hyt can not be amended
you do me wronge for I haue not offended
Remembre god that is our heuen kynge
For he wyll rewarde you after your deseruynge
Whan deth with his mace dooth you areest
We all to hym owe fewte and seruyce
Fro the ladder of lyfe downe he wyll the threste
Than maystershyp may not helpe nor grete offyce
Frewyll.
What dethe and he were here he sholde syt by ye
Trowest thou that he be able to stryue wt vs thre
Nay nay nay
Imagy.
Well felawes now let vs go our waye
For at shoters hyll we haue agame to playe
Hyckscor.
In good fayth I wyll tary no lender space
Frewyll.
Byshrewe hym for me yt is last out of this place
Pyte.
Lo lordes they may curs ye tyme they were borne
For the wedes that ouer groweth the corne
They troubled me gyltelesse and wote not why
For goddes loue yet wyll I suffre pacyently
we all may say weleaway for synne yt is now adaye
Loo vertue is banysshed for euer and aye
Worse was hyt neuer
We haue plente of grete othes
And clothe ynoughe in our clothes
But charyte many men lothes
Worse was hyt neuer
And murdure named manhode in euery nede
Extorsyon is called lawe so god me spede
Worse was hyt neuer
Youth walketh by nyght with swerdes & knyues
And euer amonge true men leseth theyr lyues
Lyke heretykes we occupy other mennes wyues
Now a dayes in englonde
Baudes be ye dystryers of many yonge women
And full lewde counseyll they gyue vnto them
How you do mary beware you yonge men
The wyfe neuer taryeth to longe
There be many grete scorners
But for synne there be fewe mourners
We haue but fewe true louers
In no place now a dayes
There be many goodly gylte knyues
And I trowe as well apparaylled wyues
Yet many of them be vntthryfty of theyr lyues
And all set in pryde to go gaye.
Mayers on synne dooth no correccyon
With gentyll men bereth trouthe adowne
Auoutry is fuffred in euery towne
Amendyment is there none
And goddes cōmaūdementes we breke them all .x.
Deuocyon is gone many dayes syn
Let vs amende vs we trewe crysten men
Or deth make you grone
Courtyers go gaye and take lytell wages
And many with harlottes at the tauerne hauntes
They be yemen of the wrethe yt be shakled in gyues
God punyssheth full sore with grete sekenesse
As pockes pestylence purple and axes
Some dyeth sodeynly that deth full peryllous
Yet was there neuer so grete pouerte
There be some sermones made by noble doctoures
But truly the fende dothe stoppe mennes eres
For god nor good man some people not feres
worse was hyt neuer
All trouth is not best sayd
And our prechers now adayes be halfe afrayde
whan we do amende god wolde be well apayde
worse was hyt neuer
Contem.
what mayster pyte how is hyt with you
Perseue.
Syr we be sory to se you in this case now
Pyte.
Bretherne here were thre peryllous men
Frewyll hyckscorner and Imagynacyon
They sayd I was a thefe and layd felony vpon me
And bounde we in Irons as ye maye se
Contem.
where be the traytours become nowe
Pyte.
In good faythe I can not shewe you
Perseue.
Brother let vs vnbynde hym of his bondes
Contem.
Unlose the fete and the hondes
Pyte.
I thanke you for your grete kyndnes
That you two shewe in this dystresse
For they were men without ony mercy
That delyteth all in myschefe and tyranny
Perseue.
I thynke they wyll come hyder agayne
Frewyll and Imagynacyon bothe twayne
Them wyll I exorte to vertuous lyuynge
And vnto vertu them to brynge
Contem.
Do my counseyll brother pyte
Go you and seke them throughe the countre
In vyllage towne bourghe and cyte
Throughe out all the realme of englonde
Whan you them mete lyghtly them arest
And in pryson put them faste
Bynde them sure in Irons stronge
For they be so faste and sotyle
That they wyll you begyle
And do true men wronge
Perseue.
Brother pyte do as he hath sayd
In euery quarter loke you aspye
And let good watche for them be layde
In all the haast that thou can and that pryuely
For and they come hyder they shall not scape
For all the crafte that they can make
Pyte.
Well than wyll I hye me as fast as I maye
And trauayle throughe euery countre
Good watche shall be layde in euery waye
That they stele not in to sentwary
Now fare wele bretherne and praye for me
For I must go hens in dede
Perseue.
Now god be your good spende
Contem.
And euer you defende whan you haue nede
Pyte.
Now bretherne bothe I thanke you
Frewyll.
Make you rome for a gentylman syrs and pease
Duegarde seygnours tout le preasse
And of your Iangelynge yf ye wyll sease
I wyll tell you where I haue bene
Syrres I was at the tauerne and dronke wyne
And syr all my fyngers were arayed with lyme
So I conuayued a cuppe manerly
And yet ywys I played all the fole
For there was a scoler of myne owne scole
And syr the horesone aspyed me
Than was I rested and brought in pryson
For woo than I wyste not what to haue done
And all Bycause I lacked monaye
But a frende in courte is worthe a peny in purs
For Imagynacyon myne owne felowe Iwys
He dyde helpe me out full craftely
Syrres he walked thrughe holborne
Thre houres after the sonne was downe
And walked vp towarde saynte gyles in the felde
He houed styll and there behelde
But there he coude not spede of his praye
And strayght to ludgate he toke the waye
ye wote well that potycaryes walke very late
He came to a dore and pryuely spake
To a prentes for a peny worth of vforbyum
And also for a halfpeny worth of alom plomme
This good seruaunte serued hym shortely
And sayd is there ought elles that you wolde bye
Thā he asked for a mouthfull of quycke brymstone
And downe in to ye seller whā the seruāt was gone
Asyde as he kest his eye
A grete bagge of monaye dyde he spye
Therin was an hondred pounde
He trussed hym to his fete and yede his waye roūde
He was lodged at newgate at the swanne
So on the morowe he delyuered me
Out of newgate by this polyce
And now wyll I daunce an make ryall chere
But I wolde Imagynacyon were here
For he is pereles at nede
Labour to hym syrres yf ye wyl your maters spede
Now wyll I synge and lustely sprynge
But whan my feters on my leges dyde rynge
I was not gladde perde but now hey trolly lolly
Let vs se who can descaunt on this same
To laughe and gete manaye hyt were a goed game
What whome haue we here
A preest a douctoure or elles a frere
What mayster doctour dotypoll
Can not you preche well in a blacke boll
Or dyspute ony dyuynyte
If ye be cunnynge I wyll put hyt in a prefe
Good syr why do men ete mustarde with befe
My questyon can you assoyle me
Perseue.
Peas man thou talkest lewdly
And of thy lyuynge I reed amende the
Frewyll.
Auaunt catyfe doost thou thou me
I am come of good kynne I tell the
My moder was a lady of the stewes blode borne
And knyght of the halter my fader ware an horne
Therfore I take hyt in full grete scorne
That thou sholdest thus cheke me
Contem.
Abyde felowe thou cast lytell curtesye
Thou shalte be charmed or thou hens pase
For thou troubled pyte and layd on hym felonye
Frewyll
I defy you bothe wyll you arest me
Perseue.
Naye naye thy grete wordes maye not helpe the
Fro vs thou shalte not escape
Frewyll.
Make rome syrres that I maye breke his pate
I wyll not be taken for them bothe
Contem.
Thou shalt abyde whether thou be leue or lothe
Therfore good sone lysten vnto me
And marke these wordes that I do tell the
Thou hast folowed thyne one wyll many a daye
And lyued in synne without amendement
Therfore in thy conceyte assaye
To axe god mercy and kepe his cōmaundement
Than on the he wyll haue pyte
And brynge the to heuen that Ioyfull cyte
Frewyll
What horesone wyll ye haue me now a fole
Naye yet had I leuer be captayne of calays
For and I sholde do after your scole
To lerne to pater to make me peuysse
Yet had I leuer loke with a face full theuysshe
And therfore prate no lenger here
Leest my knaues fyste hytte you vnder the yere
what ye dawes wolde ye reed me
For to lesese my pleasure in youth and Iolyte
To basse and kysse my swete trully mully
As Iane cate besse and sybble
I wolde that hell were full of suche prymmes
Than wolde I renne thyder on my pynnes
As fast as I myght go
Perseue.
Why syr wylte thou not loue vertu
And forsake thy synne for the loue of god almyghty
What god almyghty by goddes fast at salysbury
And I trowe eester day fell on whytsonday yt yere
There were .v. score saue an hondred in my cōpany
And at pety Iudas we made ryall chere
There had we good ale of myghelmas bruyng
Chere heuen hye lepynge and spryngynge
And thus dyde I
Lepe out of burdeaus vnto caunterbury
Almost ten myle bytwene
Contem.
Frewyll forsake all this worlde wylfully here
And chaunge by tyme yu oughtest to stonde in fere
For fortune wyll tourne her whele to swyfte
That clene fro thy welthe she wyll the lyfte
Frewyll
what lift me who & Imaginacōn were here now
Iwys with his fyst he wolde all tocloute you
Hens horesone tary no lenger here
For by saynt pyntell the apostell I swere
That I wyll dryue you bothe home
And yet I was neuer wonte to fyght alone
Alas that I had not one to bolde me
Than you sholde se me playe the man shamfully
Alas hyt wolde do me good to fyght
How saye you lordes shall I smyte
Haue amonge you by this lyght
Hens horesones and home at ones
Or with my wepen I shall breke your bones
Auaunt you knaue walke by my counseyll
Perseue.
Sone remembre the grete paynes of hell
They are so horryble that no tonge can tell
Beware lest thou thyder do go
Frewyll.
Naye by saynt mary I hope not so
He shall take ye laboure to fet me & he wyl haue me
For he that wyll go to hell by his wyll voluntary
The deuyll and the worlewynde go with hym
I wyll you neuer fro thens tydynges brynge
Go you before and shewe me the waye
And as to folowe you I wyll not saye naye
For by goddes body and you be in ones
By the masse I wyll shytte the dore at ones
And than ye be take in a pytfall
Contem.
Now Ihesus soone defende vs frome that hole
For (qui est in inferno nulla est redemptio)
Holy Iob spake these wordes full longe ago
Frewyll.
Nay I haue done & you lade out latyn wt scopes
But therwith can you cloute me a payre of botes
By our lady ye sholde haue some werke of me
I wolde haue them well vnderlayd and easely
For I vse alwaye to go one the one syde
And trowe ye how by god in the stockes I sate tyde
I trowe a thre wekes and more a lytell stounde
And there I laboured sore daye by daye
And so I tred my shone inwarde in good faye
Lo therfore me thynke you must soule them roūde
If you haue ony newe botes apayre I wolde by
But I thynke your pryce be to hye
Syr ones at newgate I bought a payre of sterrups
A myghty payre and a stronge
A hole yere I ware them so longe
But they came not fully to my knee
And to cloute them hyt cost not me a peny
Euen now & ye go thyder ye shall fynde a grete hepe
Perseue.
Syr we came neuer there ne neuer shall do
Frewyll
Mary I was taken in a trap there & tyde by ye to
That I halted a grete whyle and myght not go
I wolde ye bothe sate as fast there
Than sholde ye daunce as a bere
And all all by gangelynge of your chaynes
Contem.
why syr were ye there
Frewyll.
ye and that is sene by my braynes
For or I came there I was as wyse as a woodcock
And I thanke god as wytte as a haddocke
yet I trust to recouer as other dose
For and I had ones as moche wytte as a gose
I sholde be marchaunt of the banke
Of golde than I sholde haue many a franke
For yf I myȝt make .iii. good vyages to shoters hyl
And haue wynde and weder at my wyll
Than wolde I neuer trauell the see more
But hyt is harde to kepe the shyppe fro the shore
And yf hyt happe to ryse a storme
Than throwen in a rase and so aboute borne
On rockes or brachis for to ronne
Elles to stryke a grounde at tyborne
That were a myscheuous case
For that rocke of tyborne is so peryllous a place
Yonge galauntes dare not venture in to kente
But whan theyr monaye is gone and spente
with theyr longe botes they rowe on the baye
And ony man of warre lye by the waye
They must take a bote and throwe the helme ale
And full harde hyt is to scape that grete Ieopardye
Thā muste they ryde in ye hauē of hepe wtout fayle
And were not these two Ieoperdous places in dede
Ther is many a marchaūt that thyder wolde spede
But yet we haue a sure canell at westmynster
A thousāde shyppes of theues therin may ryde sure
For yf they may haue ankerholde & grete spēdynge
They maye lyue as mery as ony kynge
Perseue.
Good woote syr there is a pyteous lyuynge
Than ye drede not the grete mayster aboue
Sone forsake thy mysse for his loue
And than mayst thou come to the blysse also
Frewyll.
Why what wolde you that I sholde do
Contem.
For to go towarde heuen
Frewyll.
Mary and you wyll me thyder brynge
I wolde do after you
Perseue.
I praye you remembre my wordes now
Frewyll bethynke the that thou shalte dye
And of the houre thou arte vncertayne
Yet by thy lyfe thou mayst fynde a remedy
For and thou dye in synne all laboure is in vayne
Than shall thy soule be styll in payne
Loste and dampned for euermore
Helpe is past thoughe thou wolde fayne
Than thou wylte curse ye tyme that thou were bore
Frewyll.
Syr yf ye wyll vndertake that I saued shall be
I wyll do all the penaunce that you wyll sette me
Contem.
If that thou for thy synnes be sory
Our lorde wyll forgyue the them
Frewyll.
Now of all my synnes I axe god mercy
Here I forsake synne and trust to amende
To forgyue all that I haue offende
Perseue.
Our lorde now wyll shewe the his mercy
A newe name thou nede none haue
For all that wyll to heuen hye
By his owne frewyll he must forsake folye
Than is he sure and saue
Contem.
Holde here a newe garment
And here after lyue deuoutly
And for thy synnes do euer repente
Sorowe for thy synnes is very remedy
And frewyll euer to vertue applye
Also to sadnes gyue ye attendaunce
Let hym neuer out of remembraunce
Frewyll
I Wyll neuer frome you syr perseueraunce
With you wyll I abyde bothe daye and nyght
Of mynde neuer to be varyable
And goddes cōmandementes to kepe them ryght
In deed and worde and euer full stable
Perseue.
Than heuen thou shalte haue without fable
But loke that thou be stedfaste
And let thy mynde with good wyll laste
Imagy.
Huffe huffe huffe who sent after me
I am Imagynacyon full of Iolyte
Lorde that my herte is lyght
Whan shall I perysshe I trowe neuer
By cryst I recke not a feder
Euen now I was dubbed a knyght
where at tyborne of the coller
And of the stewes I am made controller
Of all the houses of lechery
At the bell hertes horne ne elles where
without they haue leue of me
But syrres wote ye why I am come hyder
By our lady togyder good company togyder
Saue ye not of my felawe frewyll
I am aferde lest he be serchynge on a hyll
By god than one of vs is begyled
what felawe is this that in this cote is fyled
Kockes deth whome haue we here
what Frewyll myn owne fere
Arte thou out of thy mynde
Frewyll
God graūte the way to heuen that I may fynde
For I forsake thy company
Imagy.
Goddes armes my company and why
Frewyll
For thou lyuest to synfully
Imagy.
Alas tell me how hyt is with the
Frewyll.
Forsake thy synne for the loue of me
Imagy.
Kockes herte arte thou waxed made
Frewyll
whā I thynke on my synne it makes me ful sade
Imagy.
Goddes woundes who gaue the that counsell
Frewyll.
Perseueraunce and contemplacyon I the tell
Imagy.
A vengeaūce on them I wolde they were in hell
Frewyll
Amende Imagynacyon and mercy crye
Imagy.
By goddes sydes I hadde leuer be hāged on hye
Naye that wolde I not do I hadde leuer dye
By goddes passyon and I hadde alonge knyfe
I wolde bereue these two horesones of theyr lyfe
How how twenty pounde for a dagger
Contem.
Peas peas good sone and speke softer
And amende or deth drawe his draught
He gyueth neuer no man warnynge
And euer to the he is comynge
Therfore remembre the well
Imagy.
A horesone yf I were Iayler of hell
Iwys some sorowe sholde thou fele
For to the deuyll I wolde the sell
Than sholde ye haue many a sory mele
I wyll neuer gyue you mete ne drynke
Ye sholde fast horesones tyll ye dyde styncke
Euen as a roten dogge ye by saynt tyburne of kent
Perseue.
Imagynacyon thynke what god dyd for the
On good frydaye he hanged on a tre
And spent all his precyous blode
A spere dyde ryue his herte a sonder
The gates he brake vp with a clappe of thunder
And Adam and eue there delyuered he
Imagy.
What deuyll what is that to me
By goodes fast I was ten yere in newgate
And many more felawes with me sate
Yet he neuer came there to helpe me ne my cōpany
Contem.
yes he holpe the or thou haddest not ben here now
Imagy.
By the masse I can not shewe you
For he and I neuer dranke togyder
yet I knowe many an ale stake
Neyther at ye stues I wyste hȳ neuer come thyder
Gooth he arayed in whyte or in blacke
For and he out of pryson hadde holpe me
I knowe well ones I sholde hym se
What gowne wereth he I praye you
Perseue.
Syr he halpe you out by his myght
I can not tell you by this lyght
But me thought that I laye there to longe
And the horesone fetters were so stronge
That hadde almost brought my necke out of Ioynt
Perseue.
Amende sone and thou shalt knowe hym
That delyuered the out of pryson
And yf thou wylt forsake thy mysse
Surely thou shalt come to the blysse
And be inherytoure of heuen
Imagy.
What syr aboue the mone
Naye by the masse than sholde I fall soone
Yet I kepe not to clymme so hye
But to clymme for a byrdes neste
There is none bytwene eest and weste
That dare therto ventre better than I
But to ventre to heuen what and my fete slyppe
I knowe well than I sholde breke my necke
And by god than hadde I the worse syde
yet had I leuer be by the nose tyde
In a wenches ars somewhere
Rather than I wolde stande in that grete fere
For to go vp to heuen naye I praye you lette be
Frewyll
Imagynacyon wylte yu do by the coūseyll of me
Imagy.
ye syr by my trouthe what someuer it be
Frewyll.
Amende yet for my sake
Hyt is better be tyme than to late
How saye you wyll you goddes hestes fulfyll
Imagy.
I wyll do syr euen as you wyll
But I praye you let me haue a newe cote
Whan I haue nede and in my purse a grote
Than wyll I dwell with you styll
Beware for whan yu arte buryed in the grounde
Fewe frendes for the wyll be founde
Remembre this styll
Imagy.
No thynge drede I so sore as deth
Therfore to amende I thynke hyt be tyme
Synne haue I vsed all the dayes of my breth
With pleasure lechery and mysusynge
And spent amys my .v. wyttes therfore I am sory
Here of all my synnes I are god mercy
Perseue.
Holde here is a better clothynge for the
And loke that thou forsake thy foly
Be stedfast loke that thou fall neuer
Imagy.
Now here I forsake my synne for euer
Frewyll.
Syr wayte thou now on perseueraunce
For thy name shall be called good remembraunce
And I wyll dwell with contemplacyon
And folowe hym where euer he become
Contem.
Well are ye so bothe agrede
Imagy.
Ye syr so god me spede
Perseue.
Syr ye shall wete on me soone
And be goddes seruaunt daye and nyght
And in euery place where ye become
Gyue good counseyle to euery wyght
And men axe your name tell you remembraunce
That goddes lawe kepeth truly euery daye
And loke that ye forget not repentaunce
Than to heuen ye shall go the nexte waye
Where ye shall se in the heuenly quere
The blessyd company of sayntes so holy
That lyued deuouly whyle they were here
Unto the whiche blysse I beseche god almyghty
And vnto vertuous lyuynge that ye maye applye
Truly for to kepe his commaundemente
Of all our myrthes here we make an ende
Unto the blysse of heuen Ihesu your soules brynge
| Hyckescorner | |