CONTRA ALIUM CANTITANTEM ET ORGANISANTEM ASINUM, QUI IMPUGNABAT SKELTONIDA PIERIUM, SARCASMOS.

Præponenda meis non sunt tua plectra camenis,

Nec quantum nostra fistula clara tua est:

Sæpe licet lyricos modularis arundine psalmos,

Et tremulos calamis concinis ipse modos;

Quamvis mille tuus digitus dat carmine plausus,

Nam tua quam tua vox est mage docta manus;

Quamvis cuncta facis tumida sub mente superbus,

Gratior est Phæbo fistula nostra tamen.

Ergo tuum studeas animo deponere fastum,

Et violare sacrum desine, stulte, virum.

Qd [221] Skelton, laureat.

[221] Qd, &c.] Not in Marshe’s ed.

SKELTON LAUREAT,
Vppon a deedmans hed, that was sent to hym from an honorable jentyllwoman for a token, deuysyd this gostly medytacyon in Englysh, couenable in sentence, comendable, lamentable, lacrymable, profytable for the soule.

Youre vgly tokyn

My mynd hath brokyn

From worldly lust;

For I haue dyscust

We ar but dust,

And dy we must.

It is generall

To be mortall:

I haue well espyde

No man may hym hyde 10

From Deth holow eyed,

With synnews wyderyd,

With bonys shyderyd,

With hys worme etyn maw,

And his gastly jaw

Gaspyng asyde,

Nakyd of hyde,

Neyther flesh nor [222] fell.

Then, by my councell,

Loke that ye spell 20

Well thys gospell:

For wher so we dwell

Deth wyll us qwell,

And with us mell.

For all oure pamperde paunchys,

Ther may no fraunchys,

Nor worldly blys,

Redeme vs from this:

Oure days be datyd,

To be chekmatyd 30

With drawttys of deth,

Stoppyng oure breth;

Oure eyen synkyng,

Oure bodys stynkyng,

Oure gummys grynnyng,

Oure soulys brynnyng.

To whom, then, shall we sew,

For to haue rescew,

But to swete Jesu,

On vs then for to rew? 40

O goodly chyld

Of Mary mylde,

Then be oure shylde!

That we be not exyld [223]

To the dyne dale

Of boteles [224] bale,

Nor to the lake

Of fendys blake.

But graunt vs grace

To se thy face, 50

And to purchace

Thyne heuenly place,

And thy palace,

Full of solace,

Aboue the sky,

That is so hy;

Eternally

To beholde and se

The Trynyte!

Amen. 60

Myrres vous y.

[222] nor] Marshe’s ed. “not.”

[223] exyld] So Marshe’s ed. Pynson’s ed. “exylyd.”

[224] boteles] Marshe’s ed. “botemles.”

Womanhod, wanton, ye want;

Youre medelyng, mastres, is manerles;

Plente of yll, of goodnes skant,

Ye rayll at ryot, recheles:

To prayse youre porte it is nedeles;

For all your draffe yet and youre dreggys,

As well borne as ye full oft tyme beggys.

Why so koy and full of skorne?

Myne horse is sold, I wene, you say;

My new furryd gowne, when it is worne, 10

Put vp youre purs, ye shall non pay.

By crede, I trust to se the day,

As proud a pohen as ye sprede,

Of me and other ye may haue nede.

Though angelyk be youre smylyng,

Yet is youre tong an adders tayle,

Full lyke a scorpyon styngyng

All those by whom ye haue auayle:

Good mastres Anne, there ye do shayle:

What prate ye, praty pyggysny? 20

I truste to quyte you or I dy.

Youre key is mete for euery lok,

Youre key is commen and hangyth owte;

Youre key is redy, we nede not knok,

Nor stand long wrestyng there aboute;

Of youre doregate ye haue no doute:

But one thyng is, that ye be lewde:

Holde youre tong now, all beshrewde!

To mastres Anne, that farly swete,

That wonnes at the Key in Temmys strete. 30

Here folowythe dyuers Balettys [225] and Dyties solacyous, deuysyd by Master Skelton, Laureat.

With, Lullay, lullay, lyke a chylde,

Thou slepyst to long, thou art begylde.

My darlyng dere, my daysy floure,

Let me, quod he, ly in your lap.

Ly styll, quod she, my paramoure,

Ly styll hardely, and take a nap.

Hys bed was heuy, such was his hap,

All drowsy dremyng, dround in slepe,

That of hys loue he toke no kepe,

With, Hey, lullay, &c.

With ba, ba, ba, and bas, bas, bas,

She cheryshed hym both cheke and chyn,

That he wyst neuer where he was; 10

He had forgoten all dedely syn.

He wantyd wyt her loue to wyn:

He trusted her payment, and lost all hys pray:[226]

She left hym slepyng, and stale away,

Wyth, Hey, lullay, &c.

The ryuers rowth, the waters wan;

She sparyd not to wete her fete;

She wadyd ouer, she found a man

That halsyd her hartely and kyst her swete:

Thus after her cold she cought a hete.

My lefe, she sayd, rowtyth in hys bed; 20

I wys he hath an heuy bed,

Wyth, Hey, lullay, &c.

What dremyst thou, drunchard, drousy pate!

Thy lust and lykyng is from thé gone;

Thou blynkerd blowboll, thou wakyst to late,

Behold, thou lyeste, luggard, alone!

Well may thou sygh, well may thou grone,

To dele wyth her so cowardly:

I wys, powle hachet, she bleryd thyne I.

Qd Skelton, laureate.

The auncient acquaintance, madam, betwen vs twayn,

The famylyaryte, the formar dalyaunce,

Causyth me that I can not myself refrayne

But that I must wryte for my plesaunt pastaunce:

Remembryng your passyng goodly countenaunce,

Your goodly port, your bewteous visage,

Ye may be countyd comfort of all corage.

Of all your feturs fauorable to make tru discripcion,

I am insuffycyent to make such enterpryse;

For thus dare I say, without [con]tradiccyon, 10

That dame Menolope was neuer half so wyse:

Yet so it is that a rumer begynnyth for to ryse,

How in good horsmen ye set your hole delyght,

And haue forgoten your old trew louyng knyght.

Wyth bound and rebound, bounsyngly take vp

Hys jentyll curtoyl,[227] and set nowght by small naggys!

Spur vp at the hynder gyrth, with, Gup, morell, gup!

With, Jayst ye, jenet of Spayne, for your tayll waggys!

Ye cast all your corage vppon such courtly haggys.

Haue in sergeaunt ferrour, myne horse behynde is bare; 20

He rydeth well the horse, but he rydeth better the mare.

Ware, ware, the mare wynsyth wyth her wanton hele!

She kykyth with her kalkyns and keylyth with a clench;

She goyth wyde behynde, and hewyth neuer a dele:

Ware gallyng in the widders, ware of that wrenche!

It is perlous for a horseman to dyg in the trenche.

Thys greuyth your husband, that ryght jentyll knyght,

And so with youre seruantys he fersly doth fyght.

So fersly he fytyth, hys mynde is so fell,

That he dryuyth them doune with dyntes on ther day wach; 30

He bresyth theyr braynpannys and makyth them to swell,

Theyre browys all to-brokyn, such clappys they cach;

Whose jalawsy malycyous makyth them to lepe the hach;

By theyr conusaunce knowing how they serue a wily py:

Ask all your neybours whether that I ly.

It can be no counsell that is cryed at the cros:

For your jentyll husband sorowfull am I;

How be it,[228] he is not furst hath had a los:

Aduertysyng you, madame, to warke more secretly,

Let not all the world make an owtcry; 40

Play fayre play, madame, and loke ye play clene,

Or ells with gret shame your game wylbe sene.

Qd Skelton, laureat.

Knolege, aquayntance, resort, fauour with grace;

Delyte, desyre, respyte wyth lyberte;

Corage wyth lust, conuenient tyme and space;

Dysdayns, dystres, exylyd cruelte;

Wordys well set with good habylyte;

Demure demenaunce, womanly of porte;

Transendyng plesure, surmountyng all dysporte;

Allectuary arrectyd to redres

These feuerous axys, the dedely wo and payne

Of thoughtfull hertys plungyd in dystres; 10

Refresshyng myndys the Aprell shoure of rayne;

Condute of comforte, and well most souerayne;

Herber enverduryd, contynuall fressh and grene;

Of lusty somer the passyng goodly quene;

The topas rych and precyouse in vertew;

Your ruddys wyth ruddy rubys may compare;

Saphyre of sadnes, enuayned wyth indy blew;

The pullyshed perle youre whytenes doth declare;

Dyamand poyntyd to rase oute hartly care;

Geyne surfetous suspecte the emeraud comendable; 20

Relucent smaragd, obiecte imcomperable;

Encleryd myrroure and perspectyue most bryght,

Illumynyd wyth feturys far passyng my reporte;

Radyent Esperus, star of the clowdy nyght,

Lode star to lyght these louers to theyr porte,

Gayne dangerous stormys theyr anker of supporte,

Theyr sayll of solace most comfortably clad,

Whych to behold makyth heuy hartys glad:

Remorse haue I of youre most goodlyhod,

Of youre behauoure curtes and benynge, 30

Of your bownte and of youre womanhod,

Which makyth my hart oft to lepe and sprynge,

And to remember many a praty thynge;

But absens, alas, wyth tremelyng fere and drede

Abashyth me, albeit I haue no nede.

You I assure, absens is my fo,

My dedely wo, my paynfull heuynes;

And if ye lyst to know the cause why so,

Open myne hart, beholde my mynde expres:

I wold ye coud! then shuld ye se, mastres, 40

How there nys thynge that I couet so fayne

As to enbrace you in myne armys twayne.

Nothynge yerthly to me more desyrous

Than to beholde youre bewteouse countenaunce:

But, hatefull absens, to me so enuyous,

Though thou withdraw me from her by long dystaunce,

Yet shall she neuer oute of remembraunce;

For I haue grauyd her wythin the secret wall

Of my trew hart, to loue her best of all!

Qd Skelton, laureat.

Cuncta licet cecidisse putas discrimina rerum,

Et prius incerta nunc tibi certa manent,

Consiliis usure meis tamen aspice caute,

Subdola non fallat te dea fraude sua:

Sæpe solet placido mortales fallere vultu,

Et cute sub placida tabida sæpe dolent;

Ut quando secura putas et cuncta serena,[229]

Anguis sub viridi gramine sæpe latet.

Though ye suppose all jeperdys ar paste,

And all is done that ye lokyd for before, 10

Ware yet, I rede you, of Fortunes dowble cast,

For one fals poynt she is wont to kepe in store,

And vnder the fell oft festerd is the sore:

That when ye thynke all daunger for to pas,

Ware of the lesard lyeth lurkyng in the gras.

Qd Skelton, laureat.

Go, pytyous hart, rasyd with dedly wo,

Persyd with payn, bleding with wondes smart,

Bewayle thy fortune, with vaynys wan and blo.

O Fortune vnfrendly, Fortune vnkynde thow art,

To be so cruell and so ouerthwart,

To suffer me so carefull to endure,

That wher I loue best I dare not dyscure!

One ther is, and euer one shalbe,

For whose sake my hart is sore dyseasyd;

For whose loue, welcom dysease to me! 10

I am content so all partys be pleasyd:

Yet, and God wold, I wold my payne were easyd!

But Fortune enforsyth me so carefully to endure,

That where I loue best I dare not dyscure.

Skelton, laureat, At the instance of a nobyll lady.

[225] Here folowythe dyuers Balettys, &c.] A tract so entitled, of four leaves, n. d. and without printer’s name, but evidently from the press of Pynson, consists of the five following pieces.

[226] pray] Qy. “pay?”

[227] curtoyl] Ed. “curtoyt.”

[228] it] Ed. “is.”

[229] serena] Ed. “serenas.”

MANERLY MARGERY [230] MYLK AND ALE.

Ay, besherewe yow, be my fay,

This wanton clarkes be nyse all way;

Avent, avent, my popagay!

What, will ye do no thyng but play?

Tully valy, strawe, let be, I say!

Gup, Cristian Clowte, gup, Jak of the vale!

With, Manerly Margery Mylk and Ale.

Be God, ye be a praty pode,

And I loue you an hole cart lode.

Strawe, Jamys foder, ye play the fode, 10

I am no hakney for your rode;

Go watch a bole, your bak is brode:

Gup, Cristian Clowte, gup, Jak of the vale!

With, Manerly Margery Mylk and Ale.

I wiss ye dele vncurtesly;

What wolde ye frompill me? now, fy!

What, and ye shalbe my piggesnye?

Be Crist, ye shall not, no hardely;

I will not be japed bodely: 20

Gup, Cristian Clowte, gup, Jake of the vale!

With, Manerly Margery Mylk and Ale.

Walke forth your way, ye cost me nought;

Now haue I fownd that I haue sought,

The best chepe flessh that euyr I bought.

Yet, for His loue that all hath wrought,

Wed me, or els I dye for thought!

Gup, Cristian Clowte, your breth [231] is stale!

Go, Manerly Margery Mylk and Ale!

Gup, Cristian Clowte, gup, Jak of the vale! 30

With, Manerly Margery Mylk and Ale.

[230] Manerly Margery, &c.] From the Fairfax MS., which formerly belonged to Ralph Thoresby, and now forms part of the Additional MSS. (5465. fol. 109) in the British Museum. It was printed (together with the music), by Hawkins, Hist. of Music, iii. 2. This song was inserted also in the first edition of Ancient Songs, 1790, p. 100, by Ritson, who observes,—“Since Sir J. Hawkins’s transcript was made, the ms. appears to have received certain alterations, occasioned, as it should seem, but certainly not authorised, by the over-scrupulous delicacy of its late or present possessor.” p. 102.

[231] breth] Hawkins and Ritson print “broth.”

HERE BEGYNNETH A LYTELL TREATYSE,
NAMED
THE BOWGE OF COURTE.[232]

THE PROLOGUE TO THE BOWGE OF COURTE.

In autumpne, whan the sonne in Virgine

By radyante hete enryped hath our corne;

Whan Luna, full of mutabylyte,

As emperes the dyademe hath worne

Of our pole artyke, smylynge halfe in scorne

At our foly and our vnstedfastnesse;

The tyme whan Mars to werre hym dyde dres;

I, callynge to mynde the greate auctoryte

Of poetes olde, whyche full craftely,

Vnder as couerte termes as coude be, 10

Can touche a trouth [233] and cloke it [234] subtylly

Wyth fresshe vtteraunce full sentencyously;

Dyuerse in style, some spared not vyce to wryte,[235]

Some of moralyte [236] nobly dyde endyte;

Wherby I rede theyr renome and theyr fame

Maye neuer dye, bute euermore endure:

I was sore moued to aforce the same,

But Ignoraunce full soone dyde me dyscure,[237]

And shewed that in this arte I [238] was not sure;

For to illumyne, she sayde, I was to dulle, 20

Auysynge [239] me my penne awaye to pulle,

And not to wryte;[240] for he so wyll atteyne

Excedynge ferther than his connynge is,

His hede maye be harde, but feble is his [241] brayne,

Yet haue I knowen suche er this;

But of reproche surely he maye not mys,

That clymmeth hyer than he may fotynge haue;

What and he slyde downe, who shall hym saue?

Thus vp and down my mynde was drawen and cast,

That I ne wyste what to do was [242] beste; 30

So sore enwered, that I was at the laste

Enforsed to slepe and for to take some reste:

And to lye downe as soone as I me [243] dreste,

At Harwyche Porte slumbrynge as I laye,

In myne hostes house, called Powers Keye,

Methoughte I sawe a shyppe, goodly of sayle,

Come saylynge forth into that hauen brood,

Her takelynge ryche and of hye apparayle:

She kyste [244] an anker, and there she laye at rode.

Marchauntes her borded to see what she had lode:[245] 40

Therein they founde royall marchaundyse,

Fraghted with plesure of what ye coude deuyse.

But than I thoughte I wolde not dwell behynde;

Amonge all other I put myselfe in prece.

Than there coude I none aquentaunce fynde:

There was moche noyse; anone one cryed, Cese!

Sharpely commaundynge eche man holde hys pece:

Maysters, he sayde, the shyp that ye here see,

The Bowge of Courte it hyghte for certeynte:[246]

The owner [247] therof is lady of estate, 50

Whoos name to tell is dame Saunce-pere;

Her [248] marchaundyse is ryche and fortunate,

But who wyll haue it muste paye therfore dere;

This royall chaffre that is shypped here

Is called Fauore, to stonde in her good grace.

Than sholde ye see there pressynge in a pace

Of one and other that wolde this lady see;

Whiche sat behynde a traues [249] of sylke fyne,

Of golde of tessew the fynest that myghte be,

In a trone whiche fer clerer [250] dyde shyne 60

Than Phebus in his spere celestyne;

Whoos beaute, honoure, goodly porte,

I haue to lytyll connynge to reporte.

But, of eche thynge there as I toke hede,

Amonge all other was wrytten in her trone,

In golde letters, this worde, whiche I dyde rede,

Garder [251] le fortune, que est mauelz et bone!

And, as I stode redynge this verse myselfe allone,

Her chyef gentylwoman, Daunger by her name,

Gaue me a taunte, and sayde I was to blame 70

To be so perte to prese so proudly vppe:

She sayde she trowed that I had [252] eten sause;

She asked yf euer I dranke of saucys cuppe.

And I than softly answered to that clause,

That, so to saye, I had gyuen her no cause.

Than asked she me, Syr, so God thé spede,

What is thy name? and I sayde, it was Drede.

What mouyd thé, quod she, hydder to come?

Forsoth, quod I, to bye some of youre ware.

And with that worde on me she gaue a glome 80

With browes bente, and gan on me to stare

Full daynnously, and fro me she dyde fare,

Leuynge me stondynge as a mased man:

To whome there came an other gentylwoman;

Desyre her name was, and so she me tolde,

Sayenge to me, Broder,[253] be of good chere,

Abasshe you not, but hardely be bolde,

Auaunce yourselfe to aproche and come nere:

What though our chaffer be neuer so dere,

Yet I auyse you to speke, for ony drede: 90

Who spareth to speke, in fayth he spareth to spede.[254]

Maystres, quod I, I haue none aquentaunce,

That wyll for me be medyatoure and mene;

And [255] this an other, I haue but smale substaunce.

Pece, quod Desyre, ye speke not worth a bene:

Yf ye haue not, in fayth I wyll you lene

A precyous jewell, no rycher in this londe;

Bone Auenture haue here now in your honde.

Shyfte now therwith, let see, as ye can,

In Bowge of Courte cheuysaunce to make; 100

For I dare saye that there nys erthly man

But, an [256] he can Bone Auenture take,

There can no fauour nor frendshyp hym forsake;

Bone Auenture may brynge you in suche case

That ye shall stonde in fauoure and in grace.

But of one thynge I werne [257] you er [258] I goo,

She that styreth the shyp, make her your frende.

Maystres, quod I, I praye you tell me why soo,

And how I maye that waye and meanes fynde.

Forsothe, quod she, how euer blowe the wynde, 110

Fortune gydeth and ruleth all oure shyppe:

Whome she hateth shall ouer the see boorde [259] skyp;

Whome she loueth, of all plesyre [260] is ryche,

Whyles she laugheth [261] and hath luste for to playe;

Whome she hateth,[262] she casteth in the dyche,

For whan she frouneth,[263] she thynketh to make a fray;

She cheryssheth [264] him, and hym she casseth [265] awaye.

Alas, quod I, how myghte I haue her sure?

In fayth, quod she, by Bone Auenture.

Thus, in a rowe, of martchauntes a grete route 120

Suwed to Fortune that she wold be theyre frynde:

They thronge in fast, and flocked her aboute;

And I with them prayed her to haue in mynde.

She promysed to vs all she wolde be kynde:

Of Bowge of Court she asketh what we wold haue;

And we asked Fauoure, and Fauour she vs gaue.

Thus endeth the Prologue; and begynneth the Bowge of Courte breuely compyled.[266]

DREDE.

The sayle is vp, Fortune ruleth our helme,

We wante no wynde to passe now ouer all;

Fauoure we haue tougher [267] than ony [268] elme,

That wyll abyde and neuer from vs fall: 130

But vnder hony ofte tyme lyeth bytter gall;

For, as me thoughte, in our shyppe I dyde see

Full subtyll persones, in nombre foure and thre.

The fyrste was Fauell, full of flatery,

Wyth fables false that well coude fayne a tale;

The seconde was Suspecte, whiche that dayly

Mysdempte eche man, with face deedly and pale;

And Haruy Hafter,[269] that well coude picke a male;

With other foure of theyr affynyte,

Dysdayne, Ryotte, Dyssymuler, Subtylte. 140

Fortune theyr frende, with whome oft she dyde daunce;

They coude not faile, thei thought, they were so sure;

And oftentymes I wolde myselfe auaunce

With them to make solace and pleasure;

But my dysporte they coude not well endure;

They sayde they hated for to dele with Drede.

Than Fauell gan wyth fayre speche me to fede.

FAUELL.

Noo thynge erthely that I wonder so sore

As of your connynge, that is so excellent;

Deynte to haue with vs suche one in store, 150

So vertuously that hath his dayes spente;

Fortune to you gyftes of grace hath lente:

Loo, what it is a man to haue connynge!

All erthly tresoure it is surmountynge.

Ye be an apte man, as ony can be founde,

To dwell with vs, and serue my ladyes grace;

Ye be to her yea worth a thousande pounde;

I herde her speke of you within shorte [270] space,

Whan there were dyuerse that sore dyde you manace;

And, though I say it, I was myselfe your frende, 160

For here be dyuerse to you that be vnkynde.

But this one thynge ye maye be sure of me;

For, by that Lorde that bought dere all mankynde,

I can not flater, I muste be playne to thé;

And ye nede ought, man, shewe to me your mynde,

For ye haue me whome faythfull ye shall fynde;

Whyles I haue ought, by God, thou shalt not lacke,

And yf nede be, a bolde worde I dare cracke.

Nay, naye, be sure, whyles I am on your syde,

Ye maye not fall, truste me, ye maye not fayle; 170

Ye stonde [271] in fauoure, and Fortune is your gyde,

And, as she wyll, so shall our grete shyppe sayle:

Thyse lewde cok wattes [272] shall neuermore preuayle

Ageynste you hardely, therfore be not afrayde:

Farewell tyll soone; but no worde that I sayde.

DREDE.

Than thanked I hym for his grete gentylnes:

But, as me thoughte, he ware on hym a cloke,

That lyned was with doubtfull doublenes;

Me thoughte, of wordes that he had full a poke;

His stomak stuffed ofte tymes dyde reboke: 180

Suspycyon, me thoughte, mette hym at a brayde,

And I drewe nere to herke what they two sayde.

In faythe, quod Suspecte, spake Drede no worde of me?

Why, what than? wylte thou lete men to speke?

He sayth, he can not well accorde with thé.

Twyst,[273] quod Suspecte, goo playe, hym I ne reke.

By Cryste, quod Fauell, Drede is soleyne freke:

What lete vs holde him vp, man, for a whyle?

Ye soo, quod Suspecte, he maye vs bothe begyle.

And whan he came walkynge soberly, 190

Wyth whom and ha, and with a croked loke,

Me thoughte, his hede was full of gelousy,

His eyen rollynge, his hondes faste they quoke;

And to me warde the strayte waye he toke:

God spede, broder![274] to me quod he than;

And thus to talke with me he began.

SUSPYCYON.

Ye remembre the gentylman ryghte nowe

That commaunde [275] with you, me thought, a party space?[276]

Beware of him, for, I make God auowe,

He wyll begyle you and speke fayre to your face: 200

Ye neuer dwelte in suche an other place,

For here is none that dare well other truste;

But I wolde telle you a thynge, and I durste.

Spake he a fayth no worde to you of me?

I wote, and he dyde, ye wolde me telle.

I haue a fauoure to you, wherof it be

That I muste shewe you moche [277] of my counselle:

But I wonder what the deuyll of helle

He sayde of me, whan he with you dyde talke:

By myne auyse [278] vse not with him to walke. 210

The soueraynst thynge that ony [279] man maye haue,

Is lytyll to saye, and moche [280] to here and see;

For, but I trusted you, so God me saue,

I wolde noo thynge so playne be;

To you oonly, me thynke, I durste shryue me

For now am I plenarely dysposed

To shewe you thynges that may not be disclosed.

DREDE.

Than I assured hym my fydelyte,

His counseyle secrete neuer to dyscure,[281]

Yf he coude fynde in herte to truste me; 220

Els I prayed hym, with all my besy cure,

To kepe it hymselfe, for than he myghte be sure

That noo man [282] erthly coude hym bewreye,

Whyles of his mynde it were lockte with the keye.

By God, quod he, this and thus it is;

And of his mynde he shewed me all and some.

Farewell, quod he, we wyll talke more of this:

Soo he departed there he wolde be come.

I dare not speke, I promysed to be dome:

But, as I stode musynge in my mynde, 230

Haruy Hafter [283] came lepynge, lyghte as lynde.

Vpon his breste he bare a versynge boxe;

His throte was clere, and lustely coude fayne;

Me [284] thoughte, his gowne was all furred wyth foxe;

And euer he sange, Sythe I am no thynge playne.

To kepe him frome pykynge it was a grete payne:

He gased on me with his gotyshe berde;

Whan I loked on hym, my [285] purse was half aferde.

HARUY HAFTER.[286]

Syr, God you saue! why loke ye so sadde?

What thynge is that I maye do for you? 240

A wonder thynge that ye waxe not madde!

For, and I studye sholde as ye doo nowe,

My wytte wolde waste, I make God auowe.

Tell me your mynde: me thynke, ye make a verse;

I coude it skan,[287] and ye wolde it [288] reherse.

But to the poynte shortely to procede,

Where hathe your dwellynge ben, er ye cam here?

For, as I trowe, I haue sene you indede

Er this, whan that ye made me royall chere.

Holde vp the helme, loke vp, and lete God stere: 250

I wolde be mery, what wynde that euer blowe,

Heue and how rombelow, row the bote, Norman, rowe!

Prynces of yougthe [289] can ye synge by rote?

Or shall I sayle wyth you a felashyp assaye;

For on the booke I [290] can not synge a note.

Wolde to God, it wolde please you some daye

A balade boke before me for to laye,

And lerne me to synge, Re, my, fa, sol!

And, whan I fayle, bobbe me on the noll.

Loo, what is to you a pleasure grete, 260

To haue that connynge and wayes that ye haue!

By Goddis soule, I wonder how ye gete

Soo greate pleasyre,[291] or who to you it gaue:

Syr, pardone me, I am an homely knaue,

To be with you thus perte and thus bolde;

But ye be welcome to our housholde.

And, I dare saye, there is no man here inne

But wolde be glad of your company:

I wyste neuer man that so soone coude wynne

The fauoure that ye haue with my lady; 270

I praye to God that it maye neuer dy:

It is your fortune for to haue that grace;

As I be saued, it is a wonder case.

For, as for me, I serued here many a daye,

And yet vnneth I can haue my lyuynge:

But I requyre you no worde that I saye;

For, and I knowe ony erthly thynge

That is agayne you, ye shall haue wetynge:

And ye be welcome, syr, so God me saue:

I hope here after a frende of you to haue. 280

DREDE.

Wyth that, as he departed soo fro me,

Anone ther mette with him, as me thoughte,

A man, but wonderly besene was he;

He loked hawte,[292] he sette eche man at noughte;

His gawdy garment with scornnys [293] was all wrought;

With indygnacyon lyned was his hode;

He frowned, as he wolde swere by Cockes blode;

He bote the [294] lyppe, he loked passynge coye;

His face was belymmed, as byes had him stounge:

It was no tyme with him to jape nor toye; 290

Enuye hathe wasted his lyuer and his lounge,

Hatred by the herte so had hym wrounge,

That he loked pale as asshes to my syghte:

Dysdayne, I wene, this comerous crabes hyghte.[295]

To Heruy Hafter [296] than he spake of me,

And I drewe nere to harke what they two sayde.

Now, quod Dysdayne, as I shall saued be,

I haue grete scorne, and am ryghte euyll apayed.

Than quod Heruy, why arte thou so dysmayde?

By Cryste, quod he, for it is shame to saye; 300

To see Johan Dawes, that came but yester daye,

How he is now taken in conceyte,

This doctour Dawcocke, Drede, I wene, he hyghte:

By Goddis bones, but yf we haue som sleyte,

It is lyke he wyll stonde in our [297] lyghte.

By God, quod Heruy, and it so happen myghte;

Lete vs therfore shortely at a worde

Fynde some mene to caste him ouer the borde.

By Him that me boughte, than quod Dysdayne,

I wonder sore he is in suche conceyte. 310

Turde, quod Hafter,[298] I wyll thé no thynge layne,[299]

There muste for hym be layde some prety beyte;

We tweyne, I trowe, be not withoute dysceyte:

Fyrste pycke a quarell, and fall oute with hym then,

And soo outface hym with a carde of ten.

Forthwith he made on me a prowde assawte,

With scornfull [300] loke meuyd all in moode;

He wente aboute to take me in a fawte;

He frounde, he stared, he stampped where he stoode.

I lokyd on hym, I wende he had be woode. 320

He set the arme proudly vnder the syde,

And in this wyse he gan with me to chyde.

DISDAYNE.

Remembrest thou what thou sayd yester nyght?

Wylt thou abyde by the wordes agayne?

By God, I haue of thé now grete dyspyte;

I shall thé angre ones in euery vayne:

It is greate scorne to see suche an hayne

As thou arte, one that cam but yesterdaye,

With vs olde seruauntes suche maysters to playe.

I tell thé, I am of countenaunce: 330

What weneste I were? I trowe, thou knowe not me.

By Goddis woundes, but for dysplesaunce,

Of my querell soone wolde I venged be:

But no force, I shall ones mete with thé;

Come whan it wyll, oppose thé I shall,

What someuer auenture therof fall.

Trowest thou, dreuyll, I saye, thou gawdy knaue,

That I haue deynte to see thé cherysshed thus?

By Goddis syde, my sworde thy berde shall shaue;

Well, ones thou shalte be chermed, I wus: 340

Naye, strawe for tales, thou shalte not rule vs;

We be thy betters, and so thou shalte vs take,

Or we shall thé oute of thy clothes shake.

DREDE.

Wyth that came Ryotte, russhynge all at ones,

A rusty gallande, to-ragged and to-rente;

And on the borde he whyrled a payre of bones,

Quater treye dews he clatered as he wente;

Now haue at all, by saynte Thomas of Kente!

And euer he threwe and kyst [301] I wote nere what:

His here was growen thorowe oute his hat. 350

Thenne I behelde how he dysgysed was:

His hede was heuy for watchynge ouer nyghte,

His eyen blereed, his face shone lyke a glas;

His gowne so shorte that it ne couer myghte

His rumpe, he wente so all for somer lyghte;

His hose was garded wyth a lyste of grene,

Yet at the knee they were broken, I wene.

His cote was checked [302] with patches rede and blewe;

Of Kyrkeby Kendall was his shorte demye;

And ay he sange, In fayth, decon thou crewe; 360

His elbowe bare, he ware his gere so nye;

His nose a [303] droppynge, his lyppes were full drye;

And by his syde his whynarde and his pouche,

The deuyll myghte daunce therin for ony [304] crowche.

Counter he coude O lux vpon a potte;

An [305] eestryche fedder of a capons tayle

He set vp fresshely vpon his hat alofte:

What reuell route! quod he, and gan to rayle

How ofte he hadde [306] hit Jenet on the tayle,

Of Felyce fetewse, and lytell prety Cate, 370

How ofte he knocked at her klycked gate.

What sholde I tell more of his rebaudrye?

I was ashamed so to here hym prate:

He had no pleasure but in harlotrye.

Ay, quod he, in the deuylles date,

What arte thou? I sawe thé nowe but late.

Forsothe, quod I, in this courte I dwell nowe.

Welcome, quod Ryote, I make God auowe.[307]

RYOTE.

And, syr, in fayth why comste not vs amonge,

To make thé mery, as other felowes done? 380

Thou muste swere and stare, man, al daye longe,

And wake all nyghte, and slepe tyll it be none;

Thou mayste not studye, or muse on the mone;

This worlde is nothynge but ete, drynke, and slepe,

And thus with vs good company to kepe.

Plucke vp thyne herte vpon a mery pyne,

And lete vs laugh a placke [308] or tweyne at nale:

What the deuyll, man, myrthe was neuer one![309]

What, loo, man, see here of dyce a bale!

A brydelynge caste for that is in thy male! 390

Now haue at all that lyeth vpon the burde!

Fye on this dyce, they be not worth a turde!

Haue at the hasarde, or at the dosen browne,

Or els I [310] pas a peny to a pounde!

Now, wolde to God, thou wolde leye money downe!

Lorde, how that I wolde caste it full rounde!

Ay, in my pouche a buckell I haue founde;

The armes of Calyce, I haue no coyne nor crosse!

I am not happy, I renne ay on the losse.

Now renne muste I to the stewys syde, 400

To wete yf Malkyn, my lemman, haue gete oughte:

I lete her to hyre, that men maye on her ryde,

Her armes [311] easy ferre and nere is soughte:

By Goddis sydes; syns I her thyder broughte,

She hath gote me more money with her tayle

Than hath some shyppe that into Bordews sayle.

Had I as good an hors as she is a mare,

I durst auenture to iourney thorugh [312] Fraunce;

Who rydeth on her, he nedeth not to care,

For she is trussed for to breke a launce; 410

It is a curtel [313] that well can wynche and praunce:

To her wyll I nowe all my pouerte lege;

And, tyll I come, haue here is [314] myne hat to plege.

DREDE.

Gone is this knaue, this rybaude foule and leude;

He ran as fast as euer that he myghte:

Vnthryftynes [315] in hym may well be shewed,

For whome [316] Tyborne groneth both daye and nyghte.

And, as I stode and kyste [317] asyde my syghte,

Dysdayne I sawe with Dyssymulacyon

Standynge in sadde communicacion. 420

But there was poyntynge and noddynge with the hede,

And many wordes sayde in secrete wyse;

They wandred ay, and stode styll in no stede:

Me thoughte, alwaye Dyscymular dyde deuyse;

Me passynge sore myne herte than gan agryse,[318]

I dempte and drede theyr talkynge was not good.

Anone Dyscymular came where I stode.

Than in his hode I sawe there faces tweyne;

That one was lene and lyke a pyned goost,

That other loked as he wolde me haue [319] slayne; 430

And to me warde as he gan for to coost,

Whan that he was euen at me almoost,

I sawe a knyfe hyd in his one sleue,

Wheron was wryten this worde, Myscheue.

And in his other sleue, me thought, I sawe

A spone of golde, full of hony swete,

To fede a fole, and for to preue a dawe;[320]

And on that sleue these wordes were wrete,

A false abstracte cometh from a fals concrete:

His hode was syde, his cope was roset graye: 440

Thyse were the wordes that [321] he to me dyde saye.

DYSSYMULATION.

How do ye, mayster? ye loke so soberly:

As I be saued at the dredefull daye,

It is a perylous vyce, this enuy:

Alas, a connynge man ne dwelle maye

In no place well, but foles with hym [322] fraye!

But as for that, connynge hath no foo

Saue hym that nought can, Scrypture sayth soo.

I knowe your vertu and your lytterature [323]

By that lytel connynge that I haue: 450

Ye be malygned sore, I you ensure;

But ye haue crafte your selfe alwaye to saue:

It is grete scorne to se a mysproude knaue

With a clerke that connynge is to prate:

Lete theym go lowse theym, in the deuylles date!

For all be it that this longe not to me,

Yet on my backe I bere suche lewde delynge:

Ryghte now I spake with one, I trowe, I see;

But, what, a strawe! I maye not tell all thynge.

By God, I saye there is grete herte brennynge 460

Betwene the persone ye wote of, you;[324]

Alas, I coude not dele so with a Jew![325]

I wolde eche man were as playne as I;

It is a worlde, I saye, to [326] here of some:

I hate this faynynge, fye vpon it, fye!

A man can not wote where to be come:

I wys I coude tell,[327]—but humlery, home;

I dare not speke, we be so layde awayte,

For all our courte is full of dysceyte.

Now, by saynte Fraunceys, that holy man and frere, 470

I hate these [328] wayes agayne you that they take:

Were I as you, I wolde ryde them full nere;

And, by my trouthe, but yf an ende they make,

Yet wyll I saye some wordes for your sake,

That shall them angre, I holde thereon a grote;

For some shall wene be hanged by the throte.

I haue a stoppynge oyster in my poke,

Truste me, and yf it come to a nede:

But I am lothe for to reyse a smoke,

Yf ye coude be otherwyse agrede; 480

And so I wolde it were, so God me spede,

For this maye brede to a confusyon,

Withoute God make a good conclusyon.

Naye, see where yonder stondeth the teder man!

A flaterynge knaue and false he is, God wote;

The dreuyll stondeth to herken, and he can:

It were more thryft, he boughte him a newe cote;

It will not be, his purse is not on flote:

All that he wereth, it is borowed ware;

His wytte is thynne, his hode is threde bare. 490

More coude I saye, but what this is ynowe:

Adewe tyll soone, we shall speke more of this:

Ye muste be ruled as I shall tell you howe;

Amendis maye be of that is now amys;

And I am your, syr, so haue I blys,

In [329] euery poynte that I can do or saye:

Gyue me your honde, farewell, and haue good daye.

DREDE.

Sodaynly, as he departed me fro,

Came pressynge in one in a wonder araye:

Er I was ware, behynde me he sayde, Bo! 500

Thenne I, astonyed of that sodeyne fraye,

Sterte all at ones, I lyked no thynge his playe;

For, yf I had not quyckely fledde the touche,

He had plucte oute the nobles of my pouche.

He was trussed in a garmente strayte:

I haue not sene suche an others page;

For he coude well vpon a casket wayte;

His hode [330] all pounsed and garded lyke a cage;

Lyghte lyme fynger, he toke none other wage.

Harken, quod he, loo here myne honde in thyne; 510

To vs welcome thou arte, by saynte Quyntyne.

DISCEYTE.

But, by that Lorde that is one, two, and thre,

I haue an errande to rounde in your ere:

He tolde me so, by God, ye maye truste me,

Parte [331] remembre whan ye were there,

There I wynked on you,—wote ye not where?

In A loco, I mene juxta B:

Woo is hym that is blynde and maye not see!

But to here the subtylte and the crafte,

As I shall tell you, yf ye wyll harke agayne; 520

And, whan I sawe the horsons wolde you hafte,

To holde myne honde, by God, I had grete payne;

For forthwyth there I had him slayne,

But that I drede [332] mordre wolde come oute:

Who deleth with shrewes hath nede to loke aboute.

DREDE.

And as he rounded [333] thus in myne ere

Of false collusyon confetryd by assente,

Me thoughte, I see lewde felawes here and there

Came for to slee me of mortall entente;

And, as they came, the shypborde faste I hente, 530

And thoughte to lepe; and euen with that woke,

Caughte penne and ynke, and wrote [334] this lytyll boke.

I wolde therwith no man were myscontente;

Besechynge you that shall it see or rede,

In euery poynte to be indyfferente,

Syth all in substaunce of slumbrynge doth procede:

I wyll not saye it is mater in dede,

But yet oftyme suche dremes be founde trewe:

Now constrewe ye what is the resydewe.

Thus endeth the Bowge of Courte.

[232] The Bowge of Courte] From the ed. of Wynkyn de Worde, n. d., in the Advocates’ Library, Edinburgh, collated with another ed. by Wynkyn de Worde, n. d., in the Public Library, Cambridge, and with Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s Workes, 1568.

[233] trouth] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “troughte.”

[234] it] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[235] wryte] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E. “wrythe.”—Qy. “wyte” (i. e. blame)?

[236] moralyte] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Other eds. “mortalyte,” and “mortalitie.”

[237] dyscure] Both eds. of W. de Worde, “dysture.” Marshe’s ed, “dyscur.”

[238] I] So Marshe’s ed. Not in eds. of W. de Worde.

[239] Auysynge] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. “Aduysynge.”

[240] wryte] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “wrythe.”

[241] his] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[242] was] Marshe’s ed. “waa.”

[243] me] Eds. “my.”

[244] kyste] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “keste.” Marshe’s ed. “kast.”

[245] lode] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[246] certeynte] So Marshe’s ed. Eds. of W. de Worde, “certeynet” and “certayne.”

[247] owner] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “awnner;” and so, perhaps, Skelton wrote: compare Elynour Rummyng, v. 609.

[248] Her] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “Here.”

[249] traues] Eds. “tranes.”

[250] clerer] Marshe’s ed. “clere.”

[251] Garder] Marshe’s ed. “Garde.” (Qy. “Gardez?”)

[252] had] So Marshe’s ed. Not in W. de Worde’s eds.

[253] Broder] Marshe’s ed. “brother.”

[254] spede] Marshe’s ed. “sped.”

[255] And] Marshe’s ed. “But.”

[256] an] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. “and.”

[257] werne] Marshe’s ed. “warne.”

[258] er] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “or.”

[259] see boorde] Marshe’s ed. “shyp borde.”

[260] plesyre] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. “pleasure.”

[261] laugheth] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “laughed.”

[262] hateth] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “hateh.”

[263] frouneth] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “fronneth.”

[264] cherysseth] Eds. “cherysshed.”

[265] casseth] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “casteth.” Marshe’s ed. “chasseth.”

[266] and begynneth ... compyled] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[267] tougher] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “toughther.”

[268] ony] Marshe’s ed. “any.”

[269] Hafter] Eds. “Haster.” See notes.

[270] shorte] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “a shorte.”

[271] stonde] Marshe’s ed. “stande.”

[272] Thyse lewde cok wattes] Marshe’s ed. “These lewd cok witts.”

[273] Twyst] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “Whist.” Marshe’s ed. “Twysshē.”

[274] spede, broder] Marshe’s ed. “sped, brother.”

[275] commaunde] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “commened.”

[276] a party space] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Other eds. “a party spake.” Qy. “a praty (pretty) space?”

[277] moche] Marshe’s ed. “muche.”

[278] auyse] Marshe’s ed. “aduyse.”

[279] ony] Marshe’s ed. “any.”

[280] moche] Marshe’s ed. “muche.”

[281] dyscure] So Marshe’s ed. Eds. of W. de Worde, “dysture.”

[282] man] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “wan.”

[283] Hafter] Eds. “Haster.”

[284] Me] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “My.”

[285] my] Marshe’s ed. “me.”

[286] Hafter] Eds. “Haster.”

[287] skan] So Marshe’s ed. Eds. of W. de Worde, “stan.”

[288] it] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[289] yougthe] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Other eds. “youghte.”

[290] I] So Marshe’s ed. Not in eds. of W. de Worde.

[291] pleasyre] Marshe’s ed. “pleasure.”

[292] hawte] Marshe’s ed. “hawtie.”

[293] scornnys] Eds. of W. de Worde, “storunys.” Marshe’s ed. “scornes.”

[294] the] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “his.”

[295] this comerous crabes hyghte] Eds. of W. de Worde, “his comerous carbes hyghte.” Marshe’s ed. “his comerous crabes hyghte.”

[296] Hafter] Eds. “Haster.”

[297] our] Marshe’s ed. “your.”

[298] Hafter] Eds. “Haster.”

[299] layne] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Other eds. “sayne.”

[300] scornfull] Marshe’s ed. “scorfull.”

[301] kyst] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “kest.”

[302] checked] Marshe’s ed. “checkerd.”

[303] a] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[304] ony] Marshe’s ed. “any.”

[305] An] Marshe’s ed. “And.”

[306] hadde] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[307] auowe] So Marshe’s ed. Eds. of W. de Worde, “auwe.”

[308] placke] Marshe’s ed. “plucke,”—perhaps, the right reading.

[309] was neuer one] Marshe’s ed. “is here within.”

[310] I] Not in W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C.

[311] armes] So Marshe’s ed. Eds. of W. de Worde, “harmes.”

[312] thorugh] Marshe’s ed. “through.”

[313] curtel] So Marshe’s ed. Eds of W. de Worde, “curtet.”

[314] is] Not in Marshe’s ed.; but see notes.

[315] Vnthryftynes] So Marshe’s ed. Eds. of W. de Worde, “Vnthryftnes.”

[316] whome] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “home.”

[317] kyste] Marshe’s ed. “caste.”

[318] agryse] Eds. “aryse.” See notes.

[319] me haue] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “haue me.”

[320] preue a dawe] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Other eds. “preye a dawe.”

[321] that] So Marshe’s ed. Not in other eds.

[322] hym] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Not in other eds.

[323] lytterature] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Other eds. “lytterkture.”

[324] you] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Other eds. “Iou.”

[325] a Jew] W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “a yew.” W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., and Marshe’s ed., “an yew.”

[326] to] So other eds. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “te.”

[327] tell] W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C., “not tell.”

[328] these] So W. de Worde’s ed. P. L. C. Other eds. “this.”

[329] In] Marshe’s ed. “To.”

[330] hode] Marshe’s ed. “body.”

[331] Parte] Qy. “Parde” (Par dieu—in sooth)?

[332] drede] So other eds. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “drde.”

[333] rounded] So other eds. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “roynded.”

[334] wrote] So other eds. W. de Worde’s ed. A. L. E., “wroth.”

HERE AFTER [335] FOLOWETH THE BOKE OF
PHYLLYP SPAROWE,
COMPYLED BY MAYSTER SKELTON, POETE LAUREATE.

Pla ce bo,

Who is there, who?

Di le xi,

Dame Margery;

Fa, re, my, my,

Wherfore and why, why?

For the sowle of Philip Sparowe,

That was late slayn at Carowe,

Among the Nones Blake,

For that swete soules sake, 10

And for all sparowes soules,

Set in our bederolles,

Pater noster qui,

With an Ave Mari,

And with the corner of a Crede,

The more shalbe your mede.

Whan I remembre agayn

How mi Philyp was slayn,

Neuer halfe the payne

Was betwene you twayne, 20

Pyramus and Thesbe,

As than befell to me:

I wept and I wayled,

The tearys downe hayled;

But nothynge it auayled

To call Phylyp agayne,

Whom Gyb our cat hath slayne.

Gib, I saye, our cat

Worrowyd her on that

Which I loued best: 30

It can not be exprest

My sorowfull heuynesse,

But all without redresse;

For within that stounde,

Halfe slumbrynge, in a sounde

I fell downe to the grounde.

Vnneth I kest myne eyes

Towarde the cloudy skyes:

But whan I dyd beholde

My sparow dead and colde, 40

No creatuer but that wolde

Haue rewed vpon me,

To behold and se

What heuynesse dyd me pange;

Wherewith my handes I wrange,

That my senaws cracked,

As though I had ben racked,

So payned and so strayned,

That no lyfe wellnye remayned.

I syghed and I sobbed, 50

For that I was robbed

Of my sparowes lyfe.

O mayden, wydow, and wyfe,

Of what estate ye be,

Of hye or lowe degre,

Great sorowe than ye myght se,

And lerne to wepe at me!

Such paynes dyd me frete,

That myne hert dyd bete,

My vysage pale and dead, 60

Wanne, and blewe as lead;

The panges of hatefull death

Wellnye had [336] stopped my breath.

Heu, heu, me,

That I am wo for thé!

Ad Dominum, cum tribularer, clamavi:

Of God nothynge els craue I

But Phyllypes soule to kepe

From the marees deepe

Of Acherontes well, 70

That is a flode of hell;

And from the great Pluto,

The prynce of endles wo;

And from foule Alecto,

With vysage blacke and blo;

And from Medusa, that mare,

That lyke a fende doth stare;

And from Megeras edders,

For [337] rufflynge of Phillips fethers,

And from her fyry sparklynges, 80

For burnynge of his wynges;

And from the smokes sowre

Of Proserpinas bowre;

And from the dennes darke,

Wher Cerberus doth barke,

Whom Theseus dyd afraye,

Whom Hercules dyd outraye,

As famous poetes say;

From [338] that hell hounde,

That lyeth in cheynes bounde, 90

With gastly hedes thre,

To Jupyter pray we

That Phyllyp preserued may be!

Amen, say ye with me!

Do mi nus,

Helpe nowe, swete Jesus!

Levavi oculos meos in montes:[339]

Wolde God I had Zenophontes,[340]

Or Socrates the wyse,

To shew me their deuyse, 100

Moderatly to take

This sorow that I make

For Phyllip Sparowes sake!

So feruently I shake,

I fele my body quake;

So vrgently I am brought

Into carefull thought.

Like Andromach,[341] Hectors wyfe,

Was wery of her lyfe,

Whan she had lost her ioye, 110

Noble Hector of Troye;

In lyke maner also

Encreaseth my dedly wo,

For my sparowe is go.

It was so prety a fole,

It wold syt [342] on a stole,

And lerned after my scole

For to kepe his cut,

With, Phyllyp, kepe your cut!

It had a veluet cap, 120

And wold syt vpon my lap,

And seke after small wormes,

And somtyme white bred crommes;

And many tymes and ofte

Betwene my brestes softe

It wolde lye and rest;

It was propre and prest.

Somtyme he wolde gaspe

Whan he sawe a waspe;

A fly or a gnat, 130

He wolde flye at that;

And prytely he wold pant

Whan he saw an ant;

Lord, how he wolde pry

After the butterfly!

Lorde, how he wolde hop

After the gressop!

And whan I sayd, Phyp, Phyp,

Than he wold lepe and skyp,

And take me by the lyp. 140

Alas, it wyll me slo,

That Phillyp is gone me fro!

Si in i qui ta tes,

Alas, I was euyll at ease!

De pro fun dis cla ma vi,

Whan I sawe my sparowe dye!

Nowe, after my dome,

Dame Sulpicia [343] at Rome,

Whose name regystred was

For euer in tables of bras, 150

Because that [344] she dyd pas

In poesy to endyte,

And eloquently [345] to wryte,

Though she wolde pretende

My sparowe to commende,

I trowe she coude not amende

Reportynge the vertues all

Of my sparowe royall.

For it wold come and go,

And fly [346] so to and fro; 160

And on me it wolde lepe

Whan I was aslepe,

And his fethers [347] shake,

Wherewith he wolde make

Me often for to wake,

And for to take him in

Vpon my naked skyn;

God wot, we thought no syn:

What though [348] he crept so lowe?

It was no hurt, I trowe, 170

He dyd nothynge perde

But syt vpon my kne:

Phyllyp, though he were nyse,

In him it was no vyse;

Phyllyp had leue to go

To pyke my lytell too;

Phillip myght be bolde

And do what he wolde;

Phillip wolde seke and take

All the flees blake 180

That he coulde there espye

With his wanton eye.

O pe ra,

La, soll, fa, fa,

Confitebor tibi, Domine, in [349] toto corde meo.

Alas, I wold ryde and go

A thousand myle of grounde!

If any such might be found,

It were worth an hundreth pound

Of kynge Cresus golde, 190

Or of Attalus [350] the olde,

The ryche prynce of Pargame,

Who so lyst the story to se.

Cadmus, that his syster sought,

And he shold be bought

For golde and fee,

He shuld ouer the see,

To wete if he coulde brynge

Any of the ofsprynge,[351]

Or any of the blode. 200

But whoso vnderstode

Of Medeas arte,

I wolde I had a parte

Of her crafty magyke!

My sparowe than shuld be quycke

With a charme or twayne,

And playe with me agayne.

But all this is in vayne

Thus for to complayne.

I toke my sampler ones, 210

Of purpose, for the nones,

To sowe with stytchis of sylke

My sparow whyte as mylke,

That by representacyon

Of his image and facyon,

To me it myght importe

Some pleasure and comforte

For my solas and sporte:

But whan I was sowing his beke,

Methought, my sparow did speke, 220

And opened [352] his prety byll,

Saynge, Mayd, ye are in wyll

Agayne me for to kyll,

Ye prycke me in the head!

With that my nedle waxed [353] red,

Methought, of Phyllyps blode;

Myne hear ryght vpstode,

And was in suche a fray,

My speche was taken away.

I kest downe that there was, 230

And sayd, Alas, alas,

How commeth this to pas?

My fyngers, dead and colde,

Coude not my sampler holde;

My nedle and threde

I threwe away for drede.

The best now that I maye,

Is for his soule to pray:

A porta inferi,

Good Lorde, haue mercy 240

Vpon my sparowes soule,

Wryten in my bederoule!

Au di vi vo cem,

Japhet, Cam, and Sem,

Ma gni fi cat,

Shewe me the ryght path

To the hylles of Armony,

Wherfore the birdes [354] yet cry

Of your fathers bote,

That was sometyme aflote, 250

And nowe they lye and rote;

Let some poetes wryte

Deucalyons flode it hyght:

But as verely as ye be

The naturall sonnes thre

Of Noe the patryarke,

That made that great arke,

Wherin he had apes and owles,

Beestes, byrdes, and foules,

That if ye can fynde 260

Any of my sparowes kynde,

God sende the soule good rest!

I wolde haue yet [355] a nest

As prety and as prest

As my sparowe was.

But my sparowe dyd pas

All sparowes of the wode

That were syns Noes flode,

Was neuer none so good;

Kynge Phylyp of Macedony 270

Had no such Phylyp as I,

No, no, syr, hardely.

That vengeaunce I aske and crye,

By way of exclamacyon,

On all the hole nacyon

Of cattes wylde and tame;

God send them sorowe and shame!

That cat specyally

That slew so cruelly

My lytell prety sparowe 280

That I brought vp at Carowe.

O cat of carlyshe [356] kynde,

The fynde was in thy mynde

Whan thou my byrde vntwynde!

I wold thou haddest ben blynde!

The leopardes sauage,

The lyons in theyr rage,

Myght catche thé in theyr pawes,

And gnawe thé in theyr iawes!

The [357] serpentes [358] of Lybany 290

Myght stynge thé venymously!

The dragones with their tonges

Might poyson thy lyuer and longes!

The mantycors of the montaynes

Myght fede them on thy braynes!

Melanchates, that hounde

That plucked Acteon to the grounde,

Gaue hym his mortall wounde,

Chaunged to a dere,

The story doth appere, 300

Was chaunged to an harte:

So thou, foule cat that thou arte,

The selfe same hounde

Myght thé confounde,

That his owne lord bote,

Myght byte asondre thy throte!

Of Inde the gredy grypes

Myght tere out all thy trypes!

Of Arcady the beares

Might plucke awaye thyne eares! 310

The wylde wolfe Lycaon

Byte asondre thy backe bone!

Of Ethna the brennynge hyll,

That day and night brenneth styl,

Set in thy tayle a blase,

That all the world may gase

And wonder vpon thé,

From Occyan the greate se

Vnto the Iles of Orchady,

From Tyllbery fery 320

To the playne of Salysbery!

So trayterously my byrde to kyll

That neuer ought thé euyll wyll!

Was neuer byrde in cage

More gentle of corage

In doynge his homage

Vnto his souerayne.

Alas, I say agayne,

Deth hath departed vs twayne!

The false cat hath thé slayne: 330

Farewell, Phyllyp, adew!

Our Lorde thy soule reskew!

Farewell without restore,

Farewell for euermore!

And it were [359] a Jewe,

It wolde make one rew,

To se my sorow new.

These vylanous false cattes

Were made for myse and rattes,

And not for byrdes smale. 340

Alas, my face waxeth pale,

Tellynge this pyteyus tale,

How my byrde so fayre,

That was wont to repayre,

And go in at my spayre,

And crepe in at my gore [360]

Of my gowne before,

Flyckerynge with his wynges!

Alas, my hert it stynges,

Remembrynge prety thynges! 350

Alas, myne hert it sleth

My Phyllyppes dolefull deth,

Whan I remembre it,

How pretely it wolde syt,

Many tymes and ofte,

Vpon my fynger aloft!

I played with him tyttell tattyll,

And fed him with my spattyl,

With his byll betwene my lippes;

It was my prety Phyppes! 360

Many a prety kusse

Had I of his [361] swete musse;

And now the cause is thus,

That he is slayne me fro,

To my great payne and wo.

Of fortune this the chaunce

Standeth on [362] varyaunce:

Oft tyme after pleasaunce

Trouble and greuaunce;

No man can be sure 370

Allway to haue pleasure:

As well perceyue ye maye

How my dysport and play

From me was taken away

By Gyb, our cat sauage,

That in a [363] furyous rage

Caught Phyllyp by the head,

And slew him there starke dead.

Kyrie, eleison,

Christe, eleison, 380

Kyrie, eleison!

For Phylyp Sparowes soule,

Set in our bederolle,

Let vs now whysper

A Pater noster.

Lauda, anima mea, Dominum!

To wepe with me loke that ye come,

All maner of byrdes in your kynd;

Se none be left behynde.

To mornynge loke that ye fall 390

With dolorous songes funerall,

Some to synge, and some to say,

Some to wepe, and some to pray,

Euery byrde in his laye.

The goldfynche, the wagtayle;

The ianglynge iay to rayle,

The fleckyd pye to chatter

Of this dolorous mater;

And robyn redbrest,

He shall be the preest 400

The requiem masse to synge,

Softly [364] warbelynge,

With helpe of the red sparow,

And the chattrynge swallow,

This herse for to halow;

The larke with his longe to;

The spynke, and the martynet also;

The shouelar with his brode bek;

The doterell, that folyshe pek,

And also the mad coote, 410

With a balde face to toote;

The feldefare, and the snyte;

The crowe, and the kyte;

The rauyn, called Rolfe,

His playne songe to solfe;

The partryche, the quayle;

The plouer with vs to wayle;

The woodhacke, that syngeth chur

Horsly, as he had the mur;

The lusty chauntyng nyghtyngale; 420

The popyngay to tell her tale,

That toteth oft in a glasse,

Shal rede the Gospell at masse;

The mauys with her whystell

Shal rede there the pystell.

But with a large and a longe

To kepe iust playne songe,

Our chaunters shalbe the cuckoue,

The culuer, the stockedowue,

With puwyt the lapwyng, 430

The versycles shall syng.

The bitter [365] with his bumpe,

The crane with his trumpe,

The swan of Menander,[366]

The gose and the gander,

The ducke and the [367] drake,

Shall watche at this wake;

The pecocke so prowde,

Bycause his voyce is lowde,

And hath a glorious tayle, 440

He shall syng the grayle;

The owle, that is [368] so foule,

Must helpe vs to houle;

The heron so gaunce,[369]

And the cormoraunce,[370]

With the fesaunte,

And the gaglynge gaunte,

And the churlysshe chowgh;

The route and the kowgh;[371]

The barnacle, the bussarde, 450

With the wilde [372] mallarde;

The dyuendop to slepe;

The water hen [373] to wepe;

The puffin [374] and the tele

Money they shall dele

To poore folke at large,

That shall be theyr charge;

The semewe and the tytmose;

The wodcocke with the longe nose;

The threstyl with her warblyng; 460

The starlyng with her brablyng;

The roke, with the ospraye

That putteth fysshes to a fraye;

And the denty curlewe,

With the turtyll most trew.

At this Placebo

We may not well forgo

The countrynge of the coe:

The storke also,

That maketh his nest 470

In chymneyes to rest;

Within those walles

No [375] broken galles

May there abyde

Of cokoldry syde,

Or els phylosophy

Maketh a great lye.

The estryge, that wyll eate

An horshowe so great,

In the stede of meate, 480

Such feruent heat

His stomake doth freat;[376]

He can not well fly,

Nor synge tunably,

Yet at a brayde

He hath well assayde

To solfe aboue ela,

Ga,[377] lorell, fa, fa;

Ne quando

Male cantando, 490

The best that we can,

To make hym our belman,

And let hym ryng the bellys;

He can do nothyng ellys.

Chaunteclere, our coke,

Must tell what is of the clocke

By the astrology

That he hath naturally

Conceyued and cought,[378]

And was neuer tought [379] 500

By Albumazer

The astronomer,

Nor by Ptholomy

Prince of astronomy,

Nor yet by Haly;

And yet he croweth dayly

And nightly [380] the tydes

That no man abydes,

With Partlot his hen,

Whom now and then 510

Hee plucketh by the hede

Whan he doth her trede.

The byrde of Araby,

That potencyally

May neuer dye,

And yet there is none

But one alone;

A phenex it is

This herse that must blys

With armatycke gummes 520

That cost great summes,[381]

The way of thurifycation

To make a [382] fumigation,

Swete of reflary,[383]

And redolent of eyre,[384]

This corse for to [385] sence

With greate reuerence,

As patryarke or pope

In a blacke cope;

Whyles [386] he senseth [the herse], 530

He shall synge the verse,

Libera me,

In de, la, soll, re,

Softly bemole

For my sparowes soule.

Plinni sheweth all

In his story naturall

What he doth fynde

Of the phenyx kynde;

Of whose incyneracyon 540

There ryseth a new creacyon

Of the same facyon

Without alteracyon,

Sauyng that olde age

Is turned into corage

Of fresshe youth agayne;

This matter trew and playne,

Playne matter indede,

Who so lyst to rede.

But for the egle doth flye 550

Hyest in the skye,

He shall be the [387] sedeane,

The quere to demeane,

As prouost pryncypall,

To teach them theyr ordynall;

Also the noble fawcon,

With the gerfawcon,[388]

The tarsell gentyll,

They shall morne soft and styll

In theyr amysse of gray; 560

The sacre with them shall say

Dirige for Phyllyppes soule;

The goshauke shall haue a role

The queresters to controll;

The lanners and the [389] marlyons

Shall stand in their morning gounes;

The hobby and the muskette

The sensers and the crosse shall fet;

The kestrell in all this warke

Shall be holy water [390] clarke. 570

And now the darke cloudy nyght

Chaseth away Phebus bryght,

Taking his course toward the west,

God sende my sparoes sole good rest!

Requiem æternam dona eis,[391] Domine!

Fa, fa, fa, my, re, re,[392]

A por ta in fe ri,

Fa, fa, fa, my, my.

Credo videre bona Domini,

I pray God, Phillip to heuen may fly! 580

Domine, exaudi orationem meam!

To heuen he shall, from heuen he cam!

Do mi nus vo bis cum!

Of al good praiers God send him sum!

Oremus.

Deus, cui proprium est misereri et parcere,

On Phillips soule haue pyte!

For he was a prety cocke,

And came of a gentyll stocke,

And wrapt in a maidenes smocke, 590

And cherysshed full dayntely,

Tyll [393] cruell fate made him to dy:

Alas, for dolefull desteny![394]

But whereto shuld I

Lenger morne or crye?

To Jupyter I call,

Of heuen emperyall,

That Phyllyp may fly

Aboue the starry sky,

To treade the prety wren, 600

That is our Ladyes hen:

Amen, amen, amen!

Yet one thynge is behynde,

That now commeth to mynde;[395]

An epytaphe I wold haue

For Phyllyppes graue:

But for I am a mayde,

Tymerous, halfe afrayde,

That neuer yet asayde

Of Elyconys well, 610

Where the Muses dwell;

Though I can rede and spell,

Recounte, reporte, and tell

Of the Tales of Caunterbury,

Some sad storyes, some mery;

As Palamon and Arcet,

Duke Theseus, and Partelet;

And of the Wyfe of Bath,

That [396] worketh moch scath

Whan her tale is tolde 620

Amonge huswyues bolde,

How she controlde

Her husbandes as she wolde,

And them to despyse

In the homylyest wyse,

Brynge other wyues in thought

Their husbandes to set at nought:

And though that rede haue I

Of Gawen and syr Guy,

And tell can a great pece 630

Of the Golden Flece,

How Jason it wan,

Lyke a valyaunt man;

Of Arturs rounde table,

With his knightes commendable,

And dame Gaynour, his quene,

Was somwhat wanton, I wene;

How syr Launcelote de Lake

Many a spere brake

For his ladyes sake; 640

Of Trystram, and kynge Marke,

And al the hole warke

Of Bele Isold his wyfe,

For whom was moch stryfe;

Some say she was lyght,

And made her husband knyght

Of the comyne [397] hall,

That cuckoldes men call;

And of syr Lybius,

Named Dysconius; 650

Of Quater Fylz Amund,[398]

And how they were sommonde

To Rome, to Charlemayne,

Vpon a great payne,

And how they rode eche one

On Bayarde Mountalbon;

Men se hym now and then [399]

In the forest of [400] Arden:

What though [401] I can frame

The storyes by name 660

Of Judas Machabeus,

And of Cesar Julious;

And of the loue betwene

Paris and Vyene;

And of the duke Hannyball,[402]

That [403] made the Romaynes all

Fordrede and to quake;

How Scipion dyd wake

The cytye of Cartage,

Which by his vnmerciful [404] rage 670

He bete downe to the grounde:

And though I can expounde

Of Hector of Troye,

That was all theyr ioye,

Whom Achylles slew,

Wherfore all Troy dyd rew;

And of the loue so hote

That made Troylus to dote

Vpon fayre Cressyde,

And what they wrote and sayd, 680

And of theyr wanton wylles

Pandaer bare the bylles

From one to the other;

His maisters loue to further,

Somtyme a presyous thyng,

An ouche, or els a ryng;

From her to hym agayn

Somtyme a prety chayn,

Or a bracelet of her here,

Prayd Troylus for to were 690

That token for her sake;

How hartely he dyd it take,

And moche therof dyd make;

And all that was in vayne,

For she dyd but fayne;

The story telleth playne,

He coulde not optayne,

Though his father were a kyng,

Yet there was a thyng

That made the [405] male to wryng; 700

She made hym to syng

The song of louers lay;

Musyng nyght and day,

Mournyng all alone,

Comfort had he none,

For she was quyte gone;

Thus in conclusyon,

She brought him in abusyon;

In ernest and in game

She was moch to blame; 710

Disparaged is her fame,

And blemysshed is her name,

In maner half with shame;

Troylus also hath lost

On her moch loue and cost,

And now must kys the post;

Pandara, that went betwene,

Hath won nothing, I wene,

But lyght for somer grene;

Yet for a speciall laud 720

He is named Troylus baud,

Of that name he is sure

Whyles the world shall dure:

Though I remembre the fable

Of Penelope most stable,

To her husband most trew,

Yet long tyme she ne knew

Whether he were on lyue or ded;

Her wyt stood her in sted,

That she was true and iust 730

For any bodely lust

To Ulixes her make,

And neuer wold him forsake:

Of Marcus Marcellus

A proces I could tell vs;

And of Anteocus;

And of Josephus

De Antiquitatibus;

And of Mardocheus,

And of great Assuerus, 740

And of Vesca his queene,

Whom he forsoke with teene,

And of Hester his other wyfe,

With whom he ledd a plesaunt life;

Of kyng Alexander;

And of kyng Euander;

And of Porcena the great,

That made the Romayns to sweat:[406]

Though I haue enrold

A thousand new and old 750

Of these historious tales,

To fyll bougets and males

With bokes that I haue red,

Yet I am nothyng sped,

And can but lytell skyll

Of Ouyd or Virgyll,

Or of Plutharke,

Or [407] Frauncys Petrarke,

Alcheus or Sapho,

Or such other poetes mo, 760

As Linus and Homerus,

Euphorion and Theocritus,

Anacreon and Arion,

Sophocles and Philemon,

Pyndarus and Symonides,[408]

Philistion [409] and Phorocides;

These poetes of auncyente,

They ar to diffuse for me:

For, as I tofore haue sayd,

I am but a yong mayd, 770

And cannot in effect

My style as yet direct

With Englysh wordes elect:[410]

Our naturall tong is rude,

And hard to be enneude

With pullysshed termes lusty;

Our language is so rusty,

So cankered, and so full

Of frowardes, and so dull,

That if I wolde apply 780

To wryte ornatly,[411]

I wot not where to fynd

Termes to serue my mynde.

Gowers Englysh is olde,

And of no value told;[412]

His mater is worth gold,

And worthy to be enrold.

In Chauser I am sped,

His tales I haue red:

His mater is delectable, 790

Solacious, and commendable;

His Englysh well alowed,

So as it is enprowed,

For as it is enployd,

There is no Englysh voyd,

At those dayes moch commended,

And now men wold haue amended

His Englysh, whereat they barke,

And mar all they warke:

Chaucer, that famus clerke, 800

His termes were not darke,

But plesaunt, easy, and playne;

No [413] worde he wrote in vayne.

Also Johnn Lydgate

Wryteth after an hyer rate;

It is dyffuse to fynde

The sentence of his mynde,

Yet wryteth he in his kynd,

No man that can amend

Those maters that he hath pende; 810

Yet some men fynde a faute,

And say he wryteth to haute.

Wherfore hold me excused

If I haue not well perused

Myne Englyssh halfe abused;

Though it be refused,

In worth I shall it take,

And fewer wordes make.

But, for my sparowes sake,

Yet as a woman may, 820

My wyt I shall assay

An epytaphe to wryght

In Latyne playne and lyght,

Wherof the elegy

Foloweth by and by:

Flos volucrum [414] formose, vale!

Philippe, sub isto

Marmore jam recubas,

Qui mihi carus eras.

Semper erunt nitido 830

Radiantia sidera cœlo;

Impressusque meo

Pectore semper eris.

Per me laurigerum

Britonum Skeltonida vatem

Hæc cecinisse licet

Ficta sub imagine texta.

Cujus eras [415] volucris,

Præstanti corpore virgo:

Candida Nais erat, 840

Formosior ista Joanna est;

Docta Corinna fuit,

Sed magis ista sapit.

Bien men souient.

THE COMMENDACIONS.

Beati im ma cu la ti in via,

O gloriosa fœmina!

Now myne hole imaginacion

And studyous medytacion

Is to take this commendacyon

In this consyderacion; 850

And vnder pacyent tolleracyon

Of that most goodly [416] mayd

That Placebo hath sayd,

And for her sparow prayd

In lamentable wyse,

Now wyll I enterpryse,

Thorow the grace dyuyne

Of the Muses nyne,

Her beautye to commende,

If Arethusa wyll send 860

Me enfluence to endyte,

And with my pen to wryte;

If Apollo wyll promyse

Melodyously it to [417] deuyse

His tunable harpe stryngges

With armony that synges

Of princes and of kynges

And of all pleasaunt thynges,

Of lust and of delyght,

Thorow his godly myght; 870

To whom be the laude ascrybed

That my pen hath enbybed

With the aureat droppes,

As verely my hope is,

Of Thagus, that golden flod,

That passeth all [418] erthly good;

And as that flode doth pas

Al floodes that euer was

With his golden sandes,

Who so that vnderstandes 880

Cosmography, and the stremys

And the floodes in straunge remes,

Ryght so she doth excede

All other of whom we rede,

Whose fame by me shall sprede

Into Perce and Mede,

From Brytons Albion

To [419] the Towre of Babilon.

I trust it is no shame,

And no man wyll me blame, 890

Though I regester her name

In the courte of Fame;

For this most goodly floure,

This blossome of fresshe coulour,

So Jupiter me socour,

She floryssheth new and new

In bewte and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina,

Retribue servo tuo, vivifica me! 900

Labia mea laudabunt te.

But enforsed am I

Openly to askry,

And to make an [420] outcri

Against odyous Enui,

That euermore wil ly,

And say cursedly;

With his ledder ey,

And chekes dry;

With vysage wan, 910

As swarte [421] as tan;

His bones crake,

Leane as a rake;

His gummes rusty

Are full vnlusty;

Hys herte withall

Bytter as gall;

His lyuer, his longe [422]

With anger is wronge;

His serpentes tonge 920

That many one hath stonge;

He frowneth euer;

He laugheth neuer,

Euen nor morow,

But other mennes sorow

Causeth him to gryn

And reioyce therin;

No slepe can him catch,

But euer doth watch,

He is so bete 930

With malyce, and frete

With angre and yre,

His foule desyre

Wyll suffre no slepe

In his hed to crepe;

His foule [423] semblaunt

All displeasaunte;[424]

Whan other ar glad,

Than is he sad;

Frantyke and mad; 940

His tong neuer styll

For to say yll,

Wrythyng and wringyng,

Bytyng and styngyng;

And thus this elf

Consumeth himself,

Hymself doth slo

Wyth payne and wo.

This fals Enuy

Sayth that I 950

Vse great folly

For to endyte,

And for to wryte,

And spend my tyme

In prose and ryme,

For to expres

The noblenes

Of my maistres,

That causeth me

Studious to be 960

To [425] make a relation

Of her commendation;

And there agayne

Enuy doth complayne,

And hath disdayne;

But yet certayne

I wyll be [426] playne,

And my style dres

To this prosses.

Now Phebus me ken 970

To sharpe my pen,

And lede my fyst

As hym best lyst,

That I may say

Honour alway

Of womankynd!

Trouth doth me bynd

And loyalte

Euer to be

Their true bedell, 980

To wryte and tell

How women excell

In noblenes;

As my maistres,

Of whom I thynk

With pen and ynk

For to compyle

Some goodly [427] style;

For this most goodly [428] floure,

This blossome of fresh coloure, 990

So Jupyter me socoure,

She flourissheth new and new

In beaute and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina,

Legem pone mihi, domina,[429] in viam justificationum tuarum!

Quemadmodum desiderat cervus ad fontes aquarum.

How shall I report

All the goodly sort

Of her fetures clere, 1000

That hath non erthly pere?

Her [430] fauour of her face

Ennewed all with [431] grace,

Confort, pleasure, and solace,

Myne hert doth so enbrace,

And so hath rauyshed me

Her to behold and se,

That in wordes playne

I cannot me refrayne

To loke on [432] her agayne: 1010

Alas, what shuld I fayne?

It wer a plesaunt payne

With her aye to remayne.

Her eyen gray and stepe

Causeth myne hert to lepe;

With her browes bent

She may well represent

Fayre Lucres, as I wene,

Or els fayre Polexene,

Or els Caliope, 1020

Or els Penolope;

For this most goodly floure,

This blossome of fresshe coloure,

So Jupiter me socoure,

She florisheth new and new

In beautye and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina,

Memor esto verbi tui servo tuo!

Servus tuus sum ego. 1030

The Indy saphyre blew

Her vaynes doth ennew;

The orient perle so clere,

The whytnesse of her lere;

The [433] lusty ruby ruddes

Resemble the rose buddes;

Her lyppes soft and mery

Emblomed lyke the chery,

It were an heuenly blysse

Her sugred mouth to kysse. 1040

Her beautye to augment,

Dame Nature hath her lent

A warte vpon her cheke,

Who so lyst to seke

In her vysage a skar,

That semyth from afar

Lyke to the radyant star,

All with fauour fret,

So properly it is set:

She is the vyolet, 1050

The daysy delectable,

The columbine [434] commendable,

The [435] ielofer amyable;

[For][436] this most goodly floure,

This blossom of fressh colour,

So Jupiter me succour,

She florysheth new and new

In beaute and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina, 1060

Bonitatem fecisti cum servo tuo, domina,

Et ex præcordiis sonant præconia!

And whan I perceyued

Her wart and conceyued,

It cannot be denayd

But it was well conuayd,

And set so womanly,

And nothynge wantonly,

But ryght conuenyently,

And full congruently, 1070

As Nature cold deuyse,

In most goodly wyse;

Who so lyst beholde,

It makethe louers bolde

To her to sewe for grace,

Her fauoure to purchase;

The sker upon her chyn,

Enhached [437] on her fayre skyn,

Whyter than the swan,

It wold make any man 1080

To forget deadly syn

Her fauour to wyn;

For this most goodly [438] floure,

This blossom of fressh coloure,

So Jupiter me socoure,

She flouryssheth new and new

In beaute and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina,

Defecit in salutatione tua [439] anima mea; 1090

Quid petis filio, mater dulcissima? babæ![440]

Soft, and make no dyn,

For now I wyll begyn

To haue [441] in remembraunce

Her goodly dalyaunce,

And her goodly pastaunce:

So sad and so demure,

Behauynge her so sure,

With wordes of pleasure

She wold make to the lure 1100

And any man conuert

To gyue her his hole hert.

She made me sore amased

Vpon her whan I gased,

Me thought min hert was crased,

My eyne were so dased;

For this most goodly flour,

This [442] blossom of fressh colour,

So Jupyter me socour,

She flouryssheth new and new 1110

In beauty and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina,

Quomodo dilexi legem tuam, domina!

Recedant vetera, nova sint [443] omnia.

And to amende her tale,

Whan she lyst to auale,

And with her fyngers smale,

And handes soft as sylke,

Whyter than the [444] mylke, 1120

That are so quyckely vayned,

Wherwyth my hand she strayned,

Lorde, how I was payned!

Vnneth I me refrayned,

How she me had reclaymed,

And me to her retayned,

Enbrasynge therwithall

Her goodly [445] myddell small

With sydes longe and streyte;

To tell you what conceyte 1130

I had than in a tryce,

The matter were to nyse,

And yet there was no vyce,

Nor yet no villany,

But only fantasy;

For this most goodly floure,

This [446] blossom of fressh coloure,

So Jupiter me succoure,

She floryssheth new and new

In beaute and vertew: 1140

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina,

Iniquos odio habui!

Non calumnientur me superbi.

But whereto shulde I note

How often dyd I tote

Vpon her prety fote?

It raysed myne hert rote

To se her treade the grounde

With heles short and rounde. 1150

She is playnly expresse

Egeria, the goddesse,

And lyke to her image,

Emportured with corage,

A louers pylgrimage;

Ther is no beest sauage,

Ne no tyger so wood,

But she wolde chaunge his mood,

Such relucent grace

Is formed in her face; 1160

For this most goodly floure,

This blossome of fresshe coloure,

So Jupiter me succour,

She flouryssheth new and new

In beaute and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina,

Mirabilia testimonia tua!

Sicut novellæ plantationes in juventute sua.

So goodly as she dresses, 1170

So properly [447] she presses

The bryght golden tresses

Of her heer so fyne,

Lyke Phebus beames shyne.

Wherto shuld I disclose

The garterynge of her hose?

It is for to suppose

How that she can were

Gorgiously her gere;

Her fresshe habylementes 1180

With other implementes

To serue for all ententes,

Lyke dame Flora, quene

Of lusty somer grene;

For [448] this most goodly floure,

This blossom of fressh coloure,

So Jupiter me socoure,

She florisheth new and new

In beautye and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina 1190

O gloriosa fœmina,

Clamavi in toto corde, exaudi me!

Misericordia tua magna est super me.

Her kyrtell so goodly lased,

And vnder that is brased

Such plasures that I may

Neyther wryte nor say;

Yet though I wryte not with ynke,

No man can let me thynke,

For thought hath lyberte, 1200

Thought is franke and fre;

To thynke a mery thought

It cost me lytell nor [449] nought.

Wolde God myne homely style

Were pullysshed with the fyle

Of Ciceros eloquence,

To prase her excellence!

For this [450] most goodly floure,

This [451] blossome of fressh coloure,

So Jupiter me succoure, 1210

She flouryssheth new and new

In beaute and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina,

Principes persecuti sunt me gratis!

Omnibus consideratis,

Paradisus voluptatis

Hæc virgo est dulcissima.

My pen it is vnable,

My hand it is vnstable, 1220

My reson rude and dull

To prayse her at the full;

Goodly maystres Jane,

Sobre, demure Dyane;

Jane this maystres hyght

The lode star [452] of delyght,

Dame Venus of all pleasure,

The well of worldly treasure;

She doth excede and pas

In prudence dame Pallas; 1230

[For][453] this [454] most goodly floure,

This blossome of fresshe colour,

So Jupiter me socoure,

She floryssheth new and new

In beaute and vertew:

Hac claritate gemina

O gloriosa fœmina!

Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine!

With this psalme, Domine, probasti me,

Shall sayle ouer the see, 1240

With Tibi, Domine, commendamus,

On pylgrimage [455] to saynt Jamys,

For shrympes, and for pranys,

And for stalkynge [456] cranys;

And where my pen hath offendyd,

I pray you it may be amendyd

By discrete consyderacyon

Of your wyse reformacyon;

I haue not offended, I trust,

If it be sadly dyscust. 1250

It were no gentle gyse

This treatyse to despyse

Because I haue wrytten and sayd

Honour of this fayre mayd;

Wherefore shulde I be blamed,

That I Jane haue [457] named,

And famously proclamed?

She is worthy to be enrolde

With letters of golde.

Car elle vault. 1260

Per me laurigerum Britonum Skeltonida vatem [458]

Laudibus eximiis merito hæc redimita puella est:

Formosam cecini,[459] qua non formosior ulla est;

Formosam potius quam commendaret Homerus.

Sic juvat interdum rigidos recreare labores,

Nec minus hoc titulo tersa Minerva mea est.

Rien que playsere.

Thus endeth the boke of Philip Sparow, and here foloweth an adicyon made by maister Skelton.

The gyse now a dayes

Of some ianglynge iayes

Is to discommende 1270

That they cannot amend,

Though they wold spend

All the wyttes they haue.

What ayle them to depraue

Phillip Sparowes graue?

His Dirige, her Commendacyon

Can be no derogacyon,

But myrth and consolacyon

Made by protestacyon,

No man to myscontent 1280

With Phillyppes enterement.

Alas, that goodly mayd,

Why shuld she be afrayde?

Why shuld she take shame

That her goodly name,

Honorably reported,

Sholde be set and sorted,

To be matriculate

With ladyes of estate?

I coniure thé, Phillip Sparow, 1290

By Hercules that hell dyd harow,

And with a venemous arow

Slew of the Epidaures

One of the Centaures,

Or Onocentaures,

Or Hipocentaures;[460]

By whose myght and mayne

An hart was slayne

With hornes twayne

Of glytteryng gold; 1300

And the appels of gold

Of Hesperides withhold,

And with a dragon kept

That neuer more slept,

By marcyall strength

He wan at length;

And slew Gerion

With thre bodyes in one;

With myghty corage

Adauntid [461] the rage 1310

Of a lyon sauage;

Of Dyomedes stable

He brought out a rable

Of coursers and rounses

With leapes and bounses;

And with mighty luggyng,

Wrestlyng and tuggyng,

He plucked the bull

By the horned skull,

And offred to Cornucopia; 1320

And so forth per cetera:

Also by Ecates bower

In Plutos [462] gastly tower;

By the vgly Eumenides,

That neuer haue rest nor ease;

By the venemous serpent,

That in hell is neuer brent,

In Lerna the Grekes fen,

That was engendred then;

By Chemeras flames, 1330

And all the dedly names

Of infernall posty,

Where soules frye and rosty;[463]

By the Stygyall flood,

And the streames wood

Of Cocitus botumles well;

By the feryman of hell,

Caron with his beerd hore,

That roweth with a rude ore

And with his frownsid [464] fore top 1340

Gydeth his bote with a prop:

I coniure [465] Phylyp, and call

In the name of kyng Saul;

Primo Regum expresse,

He bad [466] the Phitonesse

To wytchcraft her to dresse,

And by her abusyons,

And dampnable illusyons

Of marueylus conclusyons,

And by her supersticyons, 1350

And wonderfull condityons,

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 dyd he tell

The Philistinis shuld hym ascry,

And the next day he shuld dye,

I wyll my selfe dyscharge 1360

To lettred men at large:

But, Phylyp, I coniure thee

Now by these names thre,

Diana in the woodes grene,

Luna that so bryght doth shene,[467]

Procerpina in hell,

That thou shortly tell,

And shew now vnto me

What the cause may be

Of this perplexite! 1370

Inferias,[468] Philippe, tuas [469] Scroupe pulchra Joanna

Instanter petiit:[470] cur nostri carminis illam

Nunc pudet?[471] est sero; minor est infamia vero.

Than suche as haue disdayned

And of this worke complayned,

I pray God they be payned

No worse than is contayned

In verses two or thre

That folowe as you [472] may se.

Luride, cur, livor, volucris pia funera damnas? 1380

Talia te rapiant rapiunt quæ fata volucrem![473]

Est tamen invidia mors tibi continua.

[335] Here after, &c.] From the ed. by Kele, n. d., collated with that by Kitson, n. d. (which in some copies is said to be printed by Weale), and with Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s Workes, 1568.

[336] had] Not in other eds.

[337] For] Other eds. “From.”

[338] From] Eds. “For.”

[339] montes] Marshe’s ed. “montis.”

[340] Zenophontes] Other eds. “Zenophontis.”

[341] Andromach] Marshe’s ed. “Andromaca.”

[342] syt] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “set;” but see fifth line after.

[343] Sulpicia] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “Sulspicia.”

[344] that] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[345] eloquently] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “eloquenly.”

[346] fly] Other eds. “fle.”

[347] fethers] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “fether.”

[348] though] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “thought.”

[349] in] Not in other eds.

[350] Attalus] Eds. “Artalus.”

[351] ofsprynge] Other eds. “sprynge.”

[352] opened] Marshe’s ed. “open.”

[353] waxed] Marshe’s ed. “ware.”

[354] birdes] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “bordes,” which, perhaps, is the right reading. See notes.

[355] haue yet] Other eds. “yet haue.”

[356] carlyshe] Other eds. “churlyshe.”

[357] The] Eds. “These.”

[358] serpentes] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “serpens.”

[359] were] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “where.”

[360]

And go in at my spayre,

And crepe in at my gore

Kitson’s ed.;

“And often at my spayre

And gape in at my gore.”

[361] his] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “this.”

[362] on] Marshe’s ed. “an.”

[363] a] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[364] Softly] Marshe’s ed. “Loftly.”

[365] bitter] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “better.”

[366] Menander] See notes.

[367] the] So other eds. Not in Kele’s ed.

[368] is] Not in other eds.

[369] gaunce] Other eds. “gaunte.”

[370] cormoraunce] Other eds. “cormoraunte.”

[371] The route and the kowgh] See notes.

[372] wilde] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “wynde.”

[373] water hen] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “wather hen.”

[374] puffin] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “pussyn.”

[375] No] Kitson’s ed. “Nor.”

[376] doth freat] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “so great.”

[377] Ga] Marshe’s ed. “Fa.”

[378] cought] Other eds. “caught.”

[379] tought] Other eds. “taught.”

[380] nightly] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “nyghly.”

[381] summes] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “sumes.”

[382] a] Not in other eds.

[383] reflary] Qy. “reflayre?”

[384] eyre] Other eds. “ayre.”

[385] to] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[386] Whyles, &c.] So, perhaps, Skelton wrote: the line is imperfect in eds.

[387] the] Eds. “thye” and “thy.”

[388] gerfawcon] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “grefawcon.”

[389] the] Not in other eds.

[390] holy water] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “holy wather.”

[391] eis] I may just notice that here Skelton quotes literatim the Off. Defunct.

[392] re] So Kitson’s ed. Not in other eds.

[393] Tyll] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “Thyll.”

[394] desteny] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “destey.”

[395] to mynde] Kitson’s ed. “to mi mynde.”

[396] That] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “Thay” and “They.”

[397] comyne] Other eds. “commen” and “common.”

[398] Amund] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “Emund.”

[399] then] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “than.”

[400] of] Not in other eds.

[401] though] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “thought.”

[402] Hannyball] Other eds. “of Hannyball.”

[403] That] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “What.”

[404] unmerciful] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “mercyfull.”

[405] the] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “tha.”

[406] sweat] Eds. “smart.”

[407] Or] Kitson’s ed. “Or of.”

[408] Symonides] Eds. “Dymonides.”

[409] Philistion] Marshe’s ed. “Philiston.”

[410] elect] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “clere.”

[411] ornatly] Other eds. “ordinately.”

[412] told] Other eds. “is tolde.”

[413] No] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “Ne.”

[414] Flos volucrum, &c.] So these lines (each one cut into two) are given in the eds.

[415] eras] Eds. “eris.”

[416] goodly] Other eds. “godly.”

[417] it to] Qy. “to it?”

[418] all] Other eds. “all the.”

[419] To] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “Bo.”

[420] an] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “a.”

[421] swarte] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “wart” and “warte.”

[422] longe] Other eds. “longes.”

[423] foule] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “feule.”

[424] displeasaunte] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “displseaunt.”

[425] To] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “Bo.”

[426] be] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “me.”

[427] goodly] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “godly.”

[428] goodly] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “gooly.”

[429] domina] Eds. “domine,” but afterwards, in similar passages, v. 1061, 1114, “domina.”

[430] Her] Qy. “The?”

[431] all with] Other eds. “with al.”

[432] on] Marshe’s ed. “to.”

[433] The] Qy. “Her?”

[434] columbine] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “calumbyn.”

[435] The] Eds. “This.”

[436] [For]] Compare vv. 989, 1022, 1083, 1107, &c.

[437] Enhached] The editor of 1736 chose to print “Enchased.”

[438] goodly] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “godly.”

[439] salutatione tua] Eds. “salutare tuum” and “salutate tuum.”

[440] babæ] Eds. “ba ba.”

[441] haue] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “heue.”

[442] This] Other eds. “The.”

[443] sint] Other eds. “sunt.”

[444] the] Not in other eds.

[445] goodly] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “godly.”

[446] This] Eds. “The:” but see the frequent repetition of the passage.

[447] properly] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “propeeyly.”

[448] For] Not in other eds.

[449] nor] Other eds. “or.”

[450] For this] Other eds. “The.”

[451] This] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “Thus.”

[452] star] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “stare.”

[453] [For]] See note, ante, p. 83.

[454] this] Other eds. “the.”

[455] pilgrimage] Marshe’s ed. “pilgrimages.”

[456] stalkynge] So other eds. Kele’s ed. “stalke.”

[457] haue] Not in Marshe’s ed.

[458] vatem] Eds. “latem.”

[459] cecini] Eds. “pocecini.”

[460] Hipocentaures] Eds. “Hipocentaurius.”

[461] Adauntid] So our author in The Garlande of Laurell, where he cites this “Adycion.” Eds. “Auaunted.”

[462] Plutos] So in The Garlande of Laurell. Eds. “Plutus.”

[463] rosty] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “rousty.”

[464] frownsid] Supplied by The Garlande of Laurell. Not in eds.

[465] coniure] Qy. “coniure thé?” as before and after.

[466] bad] So in The Garlande of Laurell. Eds. “had.”

[467] shene] So in The Garlande of Laurell. Eds. “shyne.”

[468] Inferias] So ibid. Eds. “Infera” and “Inferia.”

[469] tuas] So ibid. Not in eds.

[470] petiit] Other eds. “persit.”

[471] pudet] Other eds. “puder.”

[472] you] Other eds. “ye.”

[473] volucrem] Other eds. “volucrum.”

HERE AFTER FOLOWETH [474] THE BOOKE CALLED
ELYNOUR RUMMYNGE.
THE TUNNYNG OF ELYNOUR RUMMYNG PER SKELTON LAUREAT.

Tell you I chyll,

If that ye wyll

A whyle be styll,

Of a comely gyll

That dwelt on a hyll:

But she is not gryll,

For she is somwhat sage

And well worne in age;

For her vysage

It would aswage 10

A mannes courage.

Her lothely lere

Is nothynge clere,

But vgly of chere,

Droupy and drowsy,

Scuruy and lowsy;

Her face all bowsy,

Comely crynklyd,

Woundersly wrynkled,

Lyke a rost pygges eare, 20

Brystled wyth here.

Her lewde lyppes twayne,

They slauer, men sayne,

Lyke a ropy rayne,

A gummy glayre:

She is vgly fayre;

Her nose somdele hoked,

And camously croked,

Neuer stoppynge,

But euer droppynge; 30

Her skynne lose and slacke,

Grained [475] lyke a sacke;

With a croked backe.

Her eyen gowndy

Are full vnsowndy,

For they are blered;

And she gray hered;

Jawed lyke a jetty;

A man would haue pytty

To se how she is gumbed, 40

Fyngered and thumbed,

Gently ioynted,

Gresed and annoynted

Vp to the knockels;

The bones [of] her huckels [476]

Lyke as they were with buckels [477]

Togyther made fast:

Her youth is farre past:

Foted lyke a plane,

Legged [478] lyke a crane; 50

And yet she wyll iet,

Lyke a iolly fet,[479]

In her furred flocket,

And gray russet rocket,

With symper the cocket.

Her huke of Lyncole grene,

It had ben hers, I wene,

More then fourty yere;

And so doth it [480] apere,

For [481] the grene bare thredes 60

Loke lyke sere wedes,

Wyddered lyke hay,

The woll worne away;

And yet I dare saye

She thynketh herselfe gaye

Vpon the holy daye,

Whan she doth her aray,

And gyrdeth in her gytes [482]

Stytched and pranked with pletes;[483]

Her kyrtel Brystow red, 70

With clothes vpon her hed

That wey [484] a sowe of led,

Wrythen in [485] wonder wyse,

After the Sarasyns gyse,

With a whym wham,

Knyt with a trym tram,

Vpon her brayne pan,

Lyke an Egyptian,

Capped [486] about:

Whan she goeth out 80

Herselfe for to shewe,

She dryueth downe the dewe

Wyth a payre of heles

As brode as two wheles;

She hobles as a gose [487]

With her blanket [488] hose

Ouer the falowe;[489]

Her shone smered wyth talowe,

Gresed vpon dyrt

That baudeth her skyrt. 90

Primus passus.

And this comely dame,

I vnderstande, her name

Is Elynour Rummynge,

At home in her wonnynge;

And as men say

She dwelt [490] in Sothray,

In a certayne stede

Bysyde Lederhede.

She is a tonnysh gyb;

The deuyll and she be syb. 100

But to make vp my tale,

She breweth noppy ale,

And maketh therof port sale [491]

To trauellars, to tynkers,

To sweters, to swynkers,

And all good ale drynkers,

That wyll nothynge spare,

But drynke tyll they stare

And brynge themselfe bare,

With, Now away the mare, 110

And let vs sley care,

As wyse as an hare!

Come who so wyll

To Elynour on the hyll,

Wyth, Fyll the cup, fyll,

And syt there by styll,

Erly and late:

Thyther cometh Kate,

Cysly, and Sare,

With theyr legges bare, 120

And also theyr fete

Hardely full vnswete;

Wyth theyr heles dagged,

Theyr kyrtelles all to-iagged,

Theyr smockes all to-ragged,

Wyth tytters and tatters,

Brynge dysshes and platters,

Wyth all theyr myght runnynge

To Elynour Rummynge,

To haue of her tunnynge: 130

She leneth them on [492] the same,

And thus begynneth the game.

Some wenches come vnlased,[493]

Some huswyues [494] come vnbrased,

Wyth theyr naked pappes,

That flyppes and flappes;

It wygges and it [495] wagges,

Lyke tawny saffron bagges;

A sorte of foule drabbes

All scuruy with scabbes: 140

Some be flybytten,

Some skewed as a kytten;

Some wyth a sho clout

Bynde theyr heddes about;

Some haue no herelace,

Theyr lockes about theyr face,

Theyr tresses vntrust,

All full of vnlust;

Some loke strawry,

Some cawry mawry; 150

Full vntydy tegges,

Lyke rotten egges.

Suche a lewde sorte

To Elynour resorte

From tyde to tyde:

Abyde, abyde,

And to you shall be tolde

Howe hyr ale is solde

To Mawte and to Molde.

Secundus passus.

Some haue no mony 160

That thyder commy,

For theyr ale to pay,

That is a shreud aray;

Elynour swered, Nay,

Ye shall not beare away

My [496] ale for nought,

By hym that me bought!

With, Hey, dogge, hay,

Haue these hogges [497] away!

With, Get me a staffe, 170

The swyne eate my draffe!

Stryke the hogges with a clubbe,

They haue dronke vp my swyllynge tubbe!

For, be there neuer so much prese,

These swyne go to the hye dese,

The sowe with her pygges;

The bore his tayle wrygges,

His rumpe [498] also he frygges

Agaynst [499] the hye benche!

With, Fo, ther is a stenche! 180

Gather vp, thou wenche;

Seest thou not what is fall?

Take vp dyrt [500] and all,

And bere out of the hall:

God gyue it yll preuynge,

Clenly as yuell cheuynge!

But let vs turne playne,

There we lefte agayne.

For, as yll a patch as that,

The hennes ron in the mashfat; 190

For they go to roust

Streyght ouer the ale ioust,

And donge, whan it commes,

In the ale tunnes.

Than Elynour taketh

The mashe bolle, and shaketh

The hennes donge away,

And skommeth it into [501] a tray

Whereas the yeest is,

With her maungy fystis: 200

And somtyme she blennes

The donge of her hennes

And the ale together;

And sayeth, Gossyp, come hyther,

This ale shal be thycker,

And flowre the more quicker;

For I may tell you,

I lerned it of a Jewe,

Whan I began to brewe,

And I haue founde it trew; 210

Drinke now whyle it is new;

And ye may it broke,

It shall make you loke

Yonger than ye be

Yeres two or thre,

For ye may proue it by me;

Beholde, she sayde, and se

How bryght I am of ble!

Ich am not cast away,

That can my husband say, 220

Whan we kys and play

In lust and in lykyng;

He calleth me his whytyng,

His mullyng and his mytyng,[502]

His nobbes and his conny,

His swetyng and his honny,

With, Bas, my prety bonny,

Thou art worth good and monny.

This make I my falyre fonny,[503]

Til that he dreme and dronny; 230

For, after all our sport,

Than wyll he rout and snort;

Than swetely together we ly,

As two pygges in a sty.

To cease me semeth best,

And of this tale to rest,

And for to leue this letter,

Because it is no better,

And because it is no swetter;

We wyll no farther ryme 240

Of it at this tyme;

But we wyll turne playne

Where we left agayne.

Tertius passus.

Instede of coyne and monny,[504]

Some brynge her a conny,

And some a pot with honny,

Some a salt, and some a spone,

Some theyr hose, some theyr shone;

Some ran [505] a good trot

With a skellet or a pot; 250

Some fyll theyr pot full

Of good Lemster woll:

An huswyfe of trust,

Whan she is athrust,

Suche a webbe can spyn,

Her thryft is full thyn.

Some go streyght thyder,

Be it slaty or slyder;

They holde the hye waye,

They care not what men say, 260

Be that as be maye;

Some, lothe to be espyde,

Start [506] in at the backe syde,

Ouer the hedge and pale,

And all for the good ale.

Some renne tyll they swete,

Brynge wyth them malte or whete,

And dame Elynour entrete

To byrle them of the best.

Than cometh an other gest; 270

She swered by the rode of rest,

Her lyppes are so drye,

Without drynke she must dye;

Therefore fyll it by and by,

And haue here a pecke of ry.

Anone cometh another,

As drye as the other,

And wyth her doth brynge

Mele, salte, or other thynge,

Her haruest [507] gyrdle, her weddynge rynge, 280

To pay for her scot

As cometh to her lot.

Som bryngeth her husbandes hood,

Because the ale is good;

Another brought her his cap

To offer to the ale tap,

Wyth flaxe and wyth towe;

And some brought sowre dowe;

Wyth, Hey, and wyth, howe,

Syt we downe a rowe, 290

And drynke tyll we blowe,

And pype tyrly tyrlowe!

Some layde to pledge

Theyr hatchet and theyr wedge,

Theyr hekell and theyr rele,

Theyr rocke, theyr spynnyng whele;

And some went so narrowe,

They layde to pledge theyr wharrowe,

Theyr rybskyn and theyr spyndell,

Theyr nedell and theyr thymbell: 300

Here was scant thryft

Whan they made suche shyft.

Theyr thrust was so great,

They asked neuer for mete,

But drynke, styll drynke,

And let the cat wynke,

Let vs washe our gommes

From the drye crommes.

Quartus passus.

Some for very nede

Layde [508] downe a skeyne of threde, 310

And some a skeyne of yarne;

Some brought [509] from the barne

Both benes and pease;

Small chaffer doth ease

Sometyme, now and than:

Another there was that ran

With a good brasse pan;

Her colour was full wan;

She ran in all the hast

Vnbrased and vnlast; 320

Tawny, swart, and sallowe,[510]

Lyke a cake of tallowe;

I swere by all hallow,

It was a stale [511] to take

The deuyll in a brake.

And than came haltyng Jone,

And brought a gambone

Of bakon that was resty:

But, Lorde, as she was testy,

Angry as a waspy! 330

She began to yane and gaspy,

And bad Elynour go bet,

And fyll in good met;[512]

It was dere that was farre fet.

Another brought a spycke

Of a bacon flycke;

Her tonge was verye quycke,

But she spake somwhat thycke:

Her felow did stammer and stut,

But she was a foule slut, 340

For her mouth fomyd

And her bely groned:

Jone sayne [513] she had eaten a fyest;

By Christ, sayde she, thou lyest,

I haue as swete a breth

As thou, wyth shamfull deth!

Than Elynour sayde, Ye callettes,

I shall breake your palettes,

Wythout ye now cease!

And so was made the peace.[514] 350

Than thyder came dronken Ales;

And she was full of tales,

Of tydynges in Wales,

And of sainct James in Gales,

And of the Portyngales;

Wyth, Lo, gossyp, I wys,

Thus and thus it is,

There hath ben great war

Betwene Temple Bar

And the Crosse in Chepe, 360

And there came an hepe

Of mylstones in a route:

She speketh thus in her snout,

Sneuelyng in her nose,

As thoughe she had the pose;

Lo, here is an olde typpet,

And ye wyll gyue me a syppet

Of your stale ale,

God sende you good sale!

And as she was drynkynge, 370

She fyll [515] in a wynkynge

Wyth a barlyhood,

She pyst where she stood;

Than began she to wepe,

And forthwyth fell on slepe.

Elynour toke her vp,

And blessed her wyth a cup

Of newe ale in cornes;

Ales founde therin no thornes,

But supped it vp at ones, 380

She founde therin no bones.[516]

Quintus passus.

Nowe in cometh another rabell;

Fyrst one wyth a ladell,

Another wyth a cradell,

And wyth a syde sadell:

And there began a fabell,

A clatterynge and a babell

Of folys fylly [517]

That had a fole wyth wylly,

With, Iast you, and, gup, gylly! 390

She coulde not lye stylly.

Then came in a genet,

And sware by saynct Benet,

I dranke not this sennet

A draught to my pay;

Elynour, I thé pray,

Of thyne ale let vs assay,

And haue here a pylche of gray;

I were skynnes of conny,

That causeth I loke so donny. 400

Another than dyd hyche her,

And brought a pottel pycher,

A tonnel, and a bottell,

But she had lost the stoppell;

She cut of her sho sole,

And stopped therwyth the hole.

Amonge all the blommer,

Another brought a skommer,

A fryinge pan, and a slyce;

Elynour made the pryce 410

For good ale eche whyt.

Than sterte in mad Kyt,

That had lyttle wyt;

She semed somdele seke,

And brought [518] a peny cheke

To dame Elynour,

For a draught of lycour.

Than Margery Mylkeducke

Her kyrtell she did vptucke

An ynche aboue her kne, 420

Her legges that ye myght se;

But they were sturdy and stubbed,[519]

Myghty pestels and clubbed,

As fayre and as whyte

As the fote of a kyte:

She was somwhat foule,

Crokenecked lyke an oule;

And yet she brought her fees,

A cantell of Essex chese

Was well a fote thycke, 430

Full of maggottes quycke;

It was huge and greate,

And myghty stronge meate

For the deuyll to eate;

It was tart and punyete.

Another sorte of sluttes,

Some brought walnuttes,[520]

Some apples, some peres,

Some brought theyr clyppynge sheres,

Some brought this and that, 440

Some brought I wote nere what,

Some brought theyr husbandes hat,

Some podynges and lynkes,

Some trypes that stynkes.[521]

But of all this thronge

One came them amonge,

She semed halfe a leche,

And began to preche

Of the tewsday in the weke

Whan the mare doth keke; 450

Of the vertue of an vnset leke;

Of her husbandes breke;

Wyth the feders of a quale

She could to Burdeou [522] sayle;

And wyth good ale barme

She could make a charme

To helpe wythall a stytch:

She semed to be a wytch.

Another brought two goslynges,

That were noughty froslynges; 460

She [523] brought them in a wallet,

She was a cumly callet:

The goslenges were untyde;

Elynour began to chyde,

They [524] be wretchockes [525] thou hast brought,

They are shyre shakyng nought!

Sextus passus.

Maude Ruggy thyther skypped:

She was vgly hypped,

And vgly thycke lypped,

Lyke an onyon syded, 470

Lyke tan ledder hyded:

She had her so guyded

Betwene the cup and the wall,

That she was there wythall

Into a palsey fall;

Wyth that her hed shaked,

And her handes quaked:

Ones hed wold haue aked

To se her naked:

She dranke so of the dregges,[526] 480

The dropsy was in her legges;

Her face glystryng lyke glas;

All foggy fat she was;

She had also the gout

In all her ioyntes about;

Her breth was soure and stale,

And smelled all of ale:

Suche a bedfellaw

Wold make one cast his craw;

But yet for all that 490

She dranke on the mash fat.

There came an old rybybe;

She halted of a kybe,

And had broken her shyn

At the threshold comyng in,

And fell so wyde open

That one myght se her token,

The deuyll thereon be wroken!

What nede all this be spoken?

She yelled lyke a calfe: 500

Ryse vp, on Gods halfe,

Said Elynour Rummyng,

I beshrew thé for thy cummyng!

And [527] as she at her did pluck,

Quake, quake, sayd the duck

In that lampatrams lap;

Wyth, Fy, couer thy [528] shap

Wyth sum flyp flap!

God gyue it yll hap,

Sayde Elynour for shame, 510

Lyke an honest dame.

Vp she stert, halfe lame,

And skantly could go

For payne and for wo.

In came another dant,

Wyth a gose and a gant:

She had a wide [529] wesant;

She was nothynge plesant;

Necked lyke an olyfant;

It was a bullyfant, 520

A gredy cormerant.

Another brought her garlyke hedes;[530]

Another brought her bedes

Of iet or of cole,

To offer to the ale pole:

Some brought a wymble,

Some brought a thymble,

Some brought a sylke lace,

Some brought a pyncase,

Some her husbandes gowne, 530

Some a pyllow of downe,

Some of [531] the napery;

And all this shyfte they make

For the good ale sake.

A strawe, sayde Bele, stande vtter,

For we haue egges and butter,

And of [532] pygeons a payre.

Than sterte forth a fysgygge,[533]

And she brought a bore pygge;

The fleshe therof was ranke, 540

And her brethe strongly stanke,

Yet, or she went, she dranke,

And gat her great thanke

Of Elynour for her ware,

That she thyther bare

To pay for her share.

Now truly, to my thynkynge,

This is a solempne drinkynge.

Septimus passus.

Soft, quod one, hyght [534] Sybbyll,

And let me wyth you bybyll. 550

She sat downe in the place,

With a sory face

Wheywormed about;

Garnyshed was her snout

Wyth here and there a puscull,

Lyke a scabbyd muscull.

This ale, sayde she, is noppy;

Let vs syppe and soppy,

And not spyll a droppy,

For so mote I hoppy, 560

It coleth well my croppy.[535]

Dame Elynoure, sayde she,

Haue here is for me,

A cloute of London pynnes;

And wyth that she begynnes

The pot to her plucke,

And dranke a good lucke;

She swynged [536] vp a quarte

At ones for her parte;

Her paunche was so puffed, 570

And so wyth ale stuffed,

Had she not hyed apace,

She had defoyled the place.

Than began the sporte

Amonge that dronken sorte:

Dame Eleynour, sayde they,

Lende here a cocke of hey,

To make all thynge cleane;

Ye wote well what we meane.

But, syr, among all 580

That sat in that hall,

There was a pryckemedenty,

Sat lyke a seynty,

And began to paynty,

As thoughe she would faynty;

She made it as koy

As a lege de moy;[537]

She was not halfe so wyse

As she was peuysshe nyse.

She sayde neuer a worde, 590

But rose from the borde,

And called for our dame,

Elynour by name.

We supposed, I wys,

That she rose to pys;

But the very grounde

Was for to compounde

Wyth Elynour in the spence,

To pay for her expence:

I haue no penny nor grote 600

To pay, sayde she, God wote,

For washyng of my throte;

But my bedes of amber

Bere them to your chamber.

Then Elynour dyd them hyde

Wythin her beddes syde.

But some than sat ryght sad

That nothynge had

There of theyr awne,[538]

Neyther gelt nor pawne; 610

Suche were there menny

That had not a penny,

But, whan they should walke,

Were fayne wyth a chalke

To score on the balke,

Or score on the tayle:

God gyue it yll hayle!

For my fyngers [539] ytche;

I haue wrytten to mytche

Of this mad mummynge 620

Of Elynour Rummynge.

Thus endeth the gest

Of this worthy fest.

Quod Skelton, Laureat.