The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 1 (of 2)

by John Skelton

TO THE HOLY GOOSTE.

O firy feruence,[587] inflamed wyth all grace,

Enkyndelyng hertes with brandis charitable,

The endles reward of pleasure and solace,

To the Father and the Son thou art communicable

In unitate which is inseperable!

O water of lyfe, O well of consolacion!

Agaynst all suggestions dedly and dampnable

Rescu me, good Lorde, by your preseruacion:

To whome is appropryed the Holy Ghost by name,

The Thyrde Parson, one God in Trinite, 10

Of perfyt loue thou art the ghostly flame:

O myrrour of mekenes, pease, and tranquylyte,

My confort, my counsell, my parfyt charyte!

O water of lyfe, O well of consolacion!

Agaynst all stormys of harde aduersyte

Rescu me, good Lord, by thy preseruacion. Amen.

Quod Skelton, Laureat.

[586] payned] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “paynted.”

[587] feruence] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “seruence” and “sentence.”

---

Woffully araid,[588]

My blode, man,

For thé ran,

It may not be naid;

My body bloo and wan,

Woffully araid.

Beholde me, I pray thé, with all thi hole reson,

And be not so hard hartid, and ffor this encheson,

Sith I for thi sowle sake was slayne in good seson,

Begylde and betraide by Judas fals treson; 10

Vnkyndly entretid,

With sharpe corde sore fretid,

The Jewis me thretid,

They mowid, they grynned, they scornyd me,

Condempnyd[589] to deth, as thou maist se,

Woffully araid.

Thus nakyd am I nailid, O man, for thy sake!

I loue thé, then loue me; why slepist thou? awake!

Remembir my tendir hart rote for thé brake,

With panys my vaynys constreyn[e]d to crake; 20

Thus toggid to and fro,

Thus wrappid all in woo,

Whereas neuer man was so,[590]

Entretid thus in most cruell wyse,

Was like a lombe offerd in sacrifice,

Woffully araid.

Off sharpe thorne I haue worne a crowne on my hede,

So paynyd, so straynyd, so rufull,[591] so red;

Thus bobbid, thus robbid,[592] thus for thy loue ded,

Onfaynyd[593] not deynyd[594] my blod for to shed; 30

My fete and handes sore

The[595] sturdy nailis bore;

What myȝt I suffir more

Than I haue don, O man, for thé?

Cum when thou list, wellcum to me,

Woffully araide.[596]

Off record thy good Lord y haue beyn and schal bee;

Y am thyn, thou artt myne, my brother y call thee;

Thé love I enterly; see whatt ys befall me!

Sore bettyng, sore thretyng, too mak thee, man, all fre: 40

Why art thou wnkynde?

Why hast nott mee yn mynde?

Cum ȝytt, and thou schalt fynde

Myne endlys mercy and grace;

See how a spere my hert dyd race,

Woyfully arayd.

Deyr brother, noo other thyng y off thee desyre

Butt gyve me thyne hert fre to rewarde myn hyre:

Y wrouȝt thé, I bowgȝt thé frome eternal fyre;

Y pray thé aray thé tooward my hyȝt empyre, 50

Above[597] the oryent,

Wheroff y am regent,

Lord God omnypotent,

Wyth me too reyn yn endlys welthe;

Remember, man, thy sawlys helthe.

Woofully arayd,

My blode, man,

For thé rane,

Hytt may nott be nayd;

My body blow and wane, 60

Woyfully arayde.

Explicit qd. Skelton.

[588] Woffully araid] From the Fairfax MS. (which once belonged to Ralph Thoresby, and now forms part of the Additional MSS., 5465, in the British Museum), where it occurs twice,—(fol. 76 and, less perfectly, fol. 86); collated with a copy written in a very old hand on the fly-leaves of Boetius de Discip. Schol. cum notabili commento, Daventrie, 1496, 4to. (in the collection of the late Mr. Heber), which has supplied several stanzas not in the Fairfax MS. It was printed from the latter, not very correctly, by Sir John Hawkins, Hist. of Music, ii. 89. I have followed the metrical arrangement of the MS. in the Boetius.

[589] condempnyd] So sec. copy in Fairfax MS., and MS. in the Boetius. First copy in F. MS. “condemp.”

[590] Whereas neuer man was so] MS. in the Boetius, “Ah was never man soo.”

[591] rufull] MS. in the Boetius, “rowfully.”

[592] bobbid ... robbid] MS. in the Boetius, “bowde ... rowyd.”

[593] Onfaynyd] MS. in the Boetius, “Unfraynyd.”

[594] deynyd] MS. in the Boetius, “drynyde.”

[595] The] MS. in the Boetius, “Thes.”

[596] Woffully araide] Here the Fairfax MS. concludes: what follows is given from the MS. in the Boetius.

[597] Above] MS. “I love.”

---

Now synge we,[598] as we were wont,

Vexilla regis prodeunt.

The kinges baner on felde is playd,

The crosses mistry can not be nayd,

To whom our Sauyour was betrayd,

And for our sake;

Thus sayth he,

I suffre for thé,

My deth I take.

Now synge we, &c.

Beholde my shankes, behold my knees, 10

Beholde my hed, armes, and thees,

Beholde of me nothyng thou sees

But sorowe and pyne;

Thus was I spylt,

Man, for thy gylte,

And not for myne.

Now synge we, &c.

Behold my body, how Jewes it donge

With knots of whipcord and scourges strong;

As stremes of a well the blode out sprong

On euery syde; 20

The knottes were knyt,

Ryght well made with wyt,

They made woundes wyde.

Now synge we, &c.

Man, thou shalt now vnderstand,

Of my head, bothe fote and hand,

Are four c. and fyue thousand

Woundes and sixty;

Fifty and vii.

Were tolde full euen

Vpon my body. 30

Now synge we, &c.

Syth I for loue bought thé so dere,

As thou may se thy self here,

I pray thé with a ryght good chere

Loue me agayne,

That it lykes me

To suffre for thé

Now all this payne.

Now synge we, &c.

Man, vnderstand now thou shall,

In sted of drynke they gaue me gall,

And eysell mengled therwithall, 40

The Jewes fell;

These paynes on me

I suffred for thé

To bryng thé fro hell.

Now synge we, &c.

Now for thy lyfe thou hast mysled,

Mercy to aske be thou not adred;

The lest drop of blode that I for thé bled

Myght clense thé soone

Of all the syn

The worlde within, 50

If thou haddest doone.

Now synge we, &c.

I was more wrother with Judas,

For he wold no mercy aske,

Than I was for his trespas

Whan he me solde;

I was euer redy

To graunt hym mercy,

But he none wolde.

Now synge we, &c.

Lo, how I hold my armes abrode,

Thé to receyue redy isprode![599] 60

For the great loue that I to thé had

Well may thou knowe,

Some loue agayne

I wolde full fayne

Thou woldest to me shewe.

Now synge we, &c.

For loue I aske nothyng of thé

But stand fast in faythe, and syn thou fle,

And payne to lyue in honeste

Bothe nyght and day;

And thou shalt have blys 70

That neuer shall mys

Withouten nay.

Now synge we, &c.

Now, Jesu, for thy great goodnes,

That for man suffred great hardnes,

Saue vs fro the deuyls cruelnes,

And to blys vs send,

And graunt vs grace

To se thy face

Withouten ende.

Now synge we, &c.

[598] Now synge we, &c.] From Bibliographical Miscellanies (edited by the Rev. Dr. Bliss), 1813, 4to, p. 48, where it is given from an imperfect volume (or fragments of volumes) of black-letter Christmas Carolles, partly (but probably not wholly) printed by Kele.

[599] isprode] Bib. Mis. “I sprede.”

---

[“CCCCXXXII.

“Codex membranaceus in 4to, seculo xiv scriptus, figuris illuminatis, sed injuria temporis pene deletis ornatus, in quo continetur,

I. Polichronitudo basileos sive historia belli quod Ricardus I. gessit contra Sarracenos, Gallice.

Hoc opus Skeltono ascribitur a Cl. Stanleio; primo autem intuitu satis liquet codicem ipsum longe ante tempus quo claruit Skeltonus fuisse scriptum, ab eoque regi dono missum, ut testantur sequentes versus diverso et recenti caractere primæ paginæ inscripti:”[600]]

I, liber, et propera, regem tu pronus adora;

Me sibi commendes humilem Skeltonida vatem:

Ante suam majestatem, (per cætera passim,)

Inclyta bella refer, gessit quæ maximus heros

Anglorum, primus nostra de gente Ricardus,

Hector ut intrepidus, contra validissima castra

Gentis Agarenæ; memora quos ille labores,

Quos tulit angores, qualesque recepit honores.

Sed

Chronica Francorum, validis inimica Britannis,

Sæpe solent celebres Britonum compescere laudes. 10

[600] Nasmith’s Catal. Libr. Manuscript, quos Coll. Corporis Christi et B. Mariæ Virginis in Acad. Cantabrig. legavit Reverendiss. in Christo Pater Matthæus Parker, Archiepisc. Cantuar. p. 400. 1777, 4to.

---

THE MANER OF THE WORLD NOW A DAYES.[601]

So many poynted caps

Lased with double flaps,

And so gay felted hats,

Sawe I never:

So many good lessons,

So many good sermons,

And so few devocions,

Sawe I never.

So many gardes worne,

Jagged and al to-torne, 10

And so many falsely forsworne,

Sawe I never:

So few good polycies

In townes and cytyes

For kepinge of blinde hostryes

Sawe I never.

So many good warkes,

So few wel lerned clarkes,

And so few that goodnes markes,

Sawe I never: 20

Such pranked cotes and sleves,

So few yonge men that preves,

And such encrease of theves,

Sawe I never.

So many garded hose,

Such cornede shoes,

And so many envious foes,

Sawe I never:

So many questes sytte

With men of smale wit, 30

And so many falsely quitte,

Sawe I never.

So many gay swordes,

So many altered wordes,

And so few covered bordes,

Sawe I never:

So many empti purses,

So few good horses,

And so many curses,

Sawe I never. 40

Such bosters and braggers,

So newe fashyoned daggers,

And so many beggers,

Sawe I never:

So many propre knyves,

So well apparrelled wyves

And so yll of theyr lyves,

Saw I never.

So many cockolde makers,

So many crakers, 50

And so many peace breakers,

Saw I never:

So much vayne clothing

With cultyng and jagging,

And so much bragginge,

Saw I never.

So many newes and knackes,

So many naughty packes,

And so many that mony lackes,

Saw I never: 60

So many maidens with child

And wylfully begylde,

And so many places untilde,

Sawe I never.

So many women blamed

And rightuously defaimed,

And so lytle ashamed,

Sawe I never:

Widowes so sone wed

After their husbandes be deade, 70

Having such hast to bed,

Sawe I never.

So much strivinge

For goodes and for wivinge,

And so lytle thryvynge,

Sawe I never:

So many capacities,

Offices and pluralites,

And chaunging of dignities,

Sawe I never. 80

So many lawes to use

The truth to refuse,

Suche falshead to excuse,

Sawe I never:

Executers havinge the ware,

Taking so littel care

Howe the soule doth fare,

Sawe I never.

Amonge them that are riche

No frendshyp is to kepe tuche, 90

And such fayre glosing speche

Sawe I never:

So many pore

In every bordoure,

And so small soccoure,

Saw I never.

So proude and so gaye,

So riche in araye,

And so skant of money,

Saw I never: 100

So many bowyers,

So many fletchers,

And so few good archers,

Saw I never.

So many chepers,

So fewe biers,

And so many borowers,

Sawe I never:

So many alle sellers

In baudy holes and sellers, 110

Of yonge folkes yll counsellers,

Sawe I never.

So many pinkers,

So many thinkers,

And so many good ale drinkers,

Sawe I never:

So many wronges,

So few mery songes,

And so many yll tonges,

Sawe I never. 120

So many a vacabounde

Through al this londe,

And so many in pryson bonde,

I sawe never:

So many citacions,

So fewe oblacions,

And so many newe facions,

Sawe I never.

So many fleyng tales,

Pickers of purses and males, 130

And so many sales,

Saw I never:

So much preachinge,

Speaking fayre and teaching,

And so ill belevinge,

Saw I never.

So much wrath and envy,

Covetous and glottony,

And so litle charitie,

Sawe I never: 140

So many carders,

Revelers and dicers,

And so many yl ticers,

Sawe I never.

So many lollers,

So few true tollers,

So many baudes and pollers,

Sawe I never:

Such treachery,

Simony and usury, 150

Poverty and lechery,

Saw I never.

So many avayles,

So many geales,

And so many fals baylies,[602]

Sawe I never:

By fals and subtyll wayes

All England decayes,

For more envy and lyers[603]

Sawe I never. 160

So new facioned jackes

With brode flappes in the neckes,

And so gay new partlettes,

Sawe I never:

So many slutteshe cookes,

So new facioned tucking hookes,

And so few biers of bookes,

Saw I never.

Sometime we song of myrth and play,

But now our joy is gone away, 170

For so many fal in decay

Sawe I never:

Whither is the welth of England gon?

The spiritual saith they have none,

And so many wrongfully undone

Saw I never.

It is great pitie that every day

So many brybors go by the way,

And so many extorcioners in eche cuntrey

Sawe I never. 180

To thé, Lord, I make my mone,

For thou maist healpe us everichone:

Alas, the people is so wo begone,

Worse was it never!

Amendment

Were convenient,

But it may not be;

We have exiled veritie.

God is neither dead nor sicke;

He may amend al yet, 190

And trowe ye so in dede,

As ye beleve ye shal have mede.

After better I hope ever,

For worse was it never.

Finis. J. S.

[601] The Maner of the World now a dayes] Was Imprinted at London in Flete Strete at the signe of the Rose Garland by W. Copland, n. d. This piece (of the original impression of which I have not been able to procure a sight) is now given from Old Ballads, 1840, edited by J. P. Collier, Esq., for the Percy Society.

[602] baylies] Qy. “bayles?”

[603] lyers] Qy. “lyes?”

---

HERE AFTER FOLOWETH THE BOKE ENTYTULED
WARE THE HAUKE,[604]
PER SKELTON, LAUREAT.

PROLOGUS SKELTONIDIS LAUREATI SUPER WARE THE HAWKE.

This worke deuysed is

For such as do amys;

And specyally to controule

Such as haue cure of soule,

That be so farre abused,

They cannot be excused

By reason nor by law;

But that they play the daw,

To hawke, or els to hunt

From the aulter[605] to the funte, 10

With cry vnreuerent,

Before the sacrament,

Within the holy church bowndis,

That of our faith the grounde is.

That pryest that hawkys so,

All grace is farre him fro;

He semeth a sysmatyke,

Or els an heretyke,

For fayth in him is faynte.

Therefore to make complaynte[606] 20

Of such mysaduysed

Parsons and dysgysed,

This boke we haue deuysed,

Compendiously comprysed,

No good priest to offende,

But suche dawes to amende,

In hope that no man shall

Be[607] myscontent withall.

I shall you make relacion,

By waye of apostrofacion, 30

Vnder supportacion

Of youre pacyent tolleracion,

How I, Skelton Laureat,

Deuysed and also wrate

Vpon a lewde curate,

A parson benyfyced,

But nothing well aduysed:

He shall be as now nameles,

But he shall not be blameles,

Nor he shal not be shameles; 40

For sure he wrought amys,

To hawke in my church of Dis.

This fonde frantyke fauconer,[608]

With his polutid pawtenar,[609]

As priest vnreuerent,

Streyght to the sacrament

He made his hawke to fly,

With hogeous showte and cry.

The hye auter[610] he strypt naked;

There on he stode, and craked; 50

He shoke downe all the clothis,

And sware horrible othes

Before the face of God,

By Moyses and Arons rod,

Or that he thens yede,

His hawke shoulde pray and fede

Vpon a pigeons maw.

The bloude ran downe raw

Vpon the auter stone;

The hawke tyrid on a bonne; 60

And in the holy place

She mutid there a chase

Vpon my corporas face.

Such sacrificium laudis

He made with suche gambawdis.

OBSERVATE.

His seconde hawke wexid gery,

And was with flying wery;

She had flowin so oft,

That on the rode loft

She perkyd her to rest. 70

The fauconer then was prest[611],

Came runnyng with a dow,

And cryed, Stow, stow, stow!

But she would not bow.

He then, to be sure,

Callid her with a lure.

Her mete[612] was very crude,

She had not wel endude;

She was not clene ensaymed,

She was not well reclaymed: 80

But the fawconer vnfayned

Was much more febler brayned.

The hawke had no lyst

To come to hys fyst;

She loked as she had the frounce;[613]

With that he gaue her a bounce

Full vpon the gorge:

I wyll not fayne nor forge;

The hawke with that clap

Fell downe with euyll hap. 90

The church dores were sparred,

Fast boltyd and barryd,

Yet wyth a prety gyn

I fortuned to come in,

This rebell to beholde,

Wherof I hym[614] controlde;

But he sayde that he woulde,

Agaynst my mynde and wyll,

In my churche hawke styll.

CONSIDERATE.

On Sainct John decollacion 100

He hawked on this facion,

Tempore vesperarum,

Sed non secundum Sarum,

But lyke a Marche harum,

His braynes were so parum.

He sayde he would not let

His houndis for to fet,

To hunte there by lyberte

In the dyspyte of me,

And to halow there the fox: 110

Downe went my offerynge box,

Boke, bell, and candyll,

All that he myght handyll;

Cros, staffe, lectryne, and banner,

Fell downe on this manner.

DELIBERATE.

With, troll, cytrace, and trouy,

They ranged, hankin bouy,

My churche all aboute.

This fawconer then[615] gan showte,

These be my gospellers, 120

These be my pystillers,

These be my querysters

To helpe me to synge,

My hawkes to mattens rynge.

In this priestly gydynge

His hawke then flew vppon

The rode with Mary and John.

Delt he not lyke a fon?

Delt he not lyke a daw?

Or els is this Goddes law, 130

Decrees or decretals,

Or holy sinodals,

Or els prouincials,

Thus within the wals

Of holy church to deale,

Thus to rynge a peale

With his hawkis bels?

Dowtles such losels

Make the churche to be

In smale auctoryte: 140

A curate in speciall

To snappar and to fall

Into this open cryme;

To loke on this were tyme.

VIGILATE.

But who so that lokys

In the officiallis bokis,

Ther he[616] may se and reed

That this is matter indeed.

How be it, mayden Meed

Made theym to be agreed, 150

And so the Scrybe was feed,

And the Pharasay

Than durst nothing say,

But let the matter slyp,

And made truth to trip;

And of the spiritual law

They made but a gewgaw,

And toke it out in drynke,

And this the cause doth shrynke:

The church is thus abused, 160

Reproched and pollutyd;

Correccion hath no[617] place,

And all for lacke of grace.

DEPLORATE.

Loke now in Exodi,

And de arca Domini,

With Regum by and by;

The Bybyll wyll not ly;

How the Temple was kept,

How the Temple was swept,

Where sanguis taurorum, 170

Aut sanguis vitulorum,

Was offryd within the wallis,

After ceremoniallis;

When it was poluted,

Sentence was executed,

By wey of expiacion,

For reconciliacion.[618]

DIVINITATE.[619]

Then muche more, by the rode,

Where Christis precious blode

Dayly offred is, 180

To be poluted this;

And that he wyshed withall

That the dowues donge downe might fal

Into my chalis at mas,

When consecrated was

The blessed sacrament:

O prieest vnreuerent!

He sayde that he woulde hunt

From the aulter to the funt.

REFORMATE.

Of no tyrande I rede, 190

That so farre dyd excede;

Neyther yet Dioclesyan,

Nor yet Domisian,

Nor yet[620] croked Cacus,

Nor yet dronken Bacus;[621]

Nother Olibrius,

Nor Dionisyus;

Nother Phalary,

Rehersed in Valery;

Nor Sardanapall, 200

Vnhappiest of all;

Nor Nero the worst,

Nor Clawdius the curst;

Nor yet Egeas,

Nor yet Syr Pherumbras;

Nother Zorobabell,

Nor cruel Jesabell;

Nor yet Tarquinius,

Whom Tytus Liuius

In wrytynge doth enroll; 210

I haue red them poll by poll;

The story of Arystobell,

And of Constantinopell,[622]

Whiche citye miscreantys wan,

And slew many a Christen man;

Yet the Sowden, nor the Turke,

Wrought neuer suche a worke,

For to let theyr hawkes fly

In the Church of Saint Sophy;

With much matter more, 220

That I kepe in store.

PENSITATE.

Then in a tabull playne

I wroute a verse or twayne,

Whereat he made dysdayne:

The pekysh parsons brayne

Cowde not rech nor attayne

What the sentence ment;

He sayde, for a crokid intent

The wordes were paruerted:

And this he ouerthwarted. 230

Of the which proces

Ye may know more expres,

If it please you to loke

In the resydew of this boke.

Here after followeth the tabull.

Loke on this tabull,

Whether thou art abull

To rede or to spell

What these verses tell.

Sicculo lutueris est colo būraarā[623]

Nixphedras uisarum caniuter tuntantes[624]

Raterplas Natābrian[625] umsudus itnugenus.

18. 10. 2. 11. 19. 4. 13. 3. 3. 1. tēualet.[626]

Chartula stet, precor, hæc nullo[627] temeranda petulco:

Hos rapiet numeros non homo, sed mala bos.

Ex parte rem chartæ adverte aperte, pone Musam Arethusam hanc.

Whereto should I rehers

The sentence of my vers? 240

In them be no scholys

For braynsycke frantycke folys:

Construas hoc,

Domine Dawcocke!

Ware the hawke!

Maister sophista,

Ye simplex syllogista,

Ye[628] deuelysh dogmatista,

Your hawke on your fista,

To hawke when you[629] lista 250

In ecclesia ista,

Domine concupisti,[630]

With thy hawke on thy fisty?

Nunquid sic dixisti?

Nunquid sic fecisti?

Sed ubi hoc legisti

Aut unde hoc,

Doctor Dawcocke?

Ware the hawke!

Doctor Dialetica,[631] 260

Where fynde you in Hypothetica,

Or in Categoria,

Latina sive Dorica,

To vse your hawkys forica

In propitiatorio,

Tanquam diversorio?

Unde hoc,

Domine Dawcocke?

Ware the hawke!

Saye to me, Jacke Harys, 270

Quare aucuparis

Ad sacramentum altaris?

For no reuerens[632] thou sparys

To shake my pygeons federis

Super arcam fœderis:

Unde hoc,

Doctor Dawcocke?

Ware the hawke!

Sir Dominus vobiscum,

Per[633] aucupium 280

Ye made your hawke to cum

Desuper candelabrum

Christi crucifixi

To fede vpon your fisty:

Dic, inimice crucis Christi,

Ubi didicisti

Facere hoc,

Domine Dawcocke?

Ware the hawke!

Apostata Julianus, 290

Nor yet Nestorianus,

Thou shalt no[634] where rede

That they dyd suche a dede,

To let theyr hawkys fly

Ad ostium tabernaculi,

In quo est corpus Domini:

Cave hoc,

Doctor Dawcocke!

Ware the hawke!

This dowtles ye rauyd, 300

Dys church ye thus deprauyd;

Wherfore, as I be sauyd,

Ye are therefore beknauyd:

Quare? quia Evangelia,

Concha et conchylia,

Accipiter[635] et sonalia,

Et bruta animalia,[636]

Cætera quoque talia

Tibi sunt æqualia:

Unde hoc, 310

Domine Dawcocke?

Ware the hawke!

Et relis et ralis,

Et reliqualis,

From Granado to Galis,

From Wynchelsee to Walys,[637]

Non est braynsycke talis,

Nec minus rationalis,

Nec magis bestialis,[638]

That synggys with a chalys: 320

Construas hoc,

Doctor Dawcocke!

Ware the hawke!

Masyd, wytles, smery smyth,

Hampar with your hammer vpon thy styth,

And make hereof a syckyll or a saw,

For thoughe ye lyue a c. yere, ye shall dy a daw.

Vos valete,

Doctor indiscrete!

[604] Ware the Hauke] From the ed. by Kynge and Marche of Certaine bokes compyled by mayster Skelton, n. d., collated with the same work, ed. Day, n. d., and ed. Lant, n. d., and with Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s Workes, 1568.

[605] aulter] Here Lant’s ed. has “auter.” (In the spelling of this word the eds. are not consistent; see vv. 49, 59, 189.)

[606] complaynte] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “complaunt.”

[607] Be] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “By.”

[608] fauconer] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, and of Lant, “fouconer.”

[609] pawtenar] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “pawtner.”

[610] auter] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “aulter:” see note, ante, p. 155.

[611] prest] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, and of Day, “priest.”

[612] mete] So Lant’s ed. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “mere.” Other eds. “meate.”

[613] frounce] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “fronnce” and “fronce.”

[614] I hym] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “him I.”

[615] then] Not in eds. of Day, and Marshe.

[616] he] Marshe’s ed. “her.”

[617] no] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “na.”

[618] For reconciliacion] Not in eds. of Day, and Marshe.

[619] Divinitate] Qy. “Divinate?”

[620] Nor yet] Lant’s ed. “Nother.”

[621] Bacus] Marshe’s ed. “Baccus.”

[622] Constantinopell] Marshe’s ed. “Constantinobel.”

[623] būraarā] In Day’s ed. the final letter of this word being blurred looks like a d; and Marshe’s ed. has “bunraard.” The meaning of this “tabull playne” is quite beyond my comprehension.

[624] tuntantes] Marshe’s ed. “tauntantes.”

[625] Natābrian] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “Natanbrian.” The Editor of 1736 prints “Natanbrianum sudus.”

[626] tēualet] Perhaps, “ten (10) valet.”

[627] nullo] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “uello.”

[628] Ye] Eds. “The.”

[629] you] Eds. “your.”

[630] concupisti] Eds. “racapisti” and “cacapisti.”

[631] Dialetica] So written in eds. for the rhyme.

[632] reuerens] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “reuens.”

[633] Per] Eds. “Par.”

[634] no] Day’s ed. “ne.”

[635] Accipiter] Eds. “Ancipiter.”

[636] animalia] Eds. of Kynge and Marche, and of Lant, (in which impressions only this line is found), “aīlia.”

[637] Walys] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “Wales,” and in the next line “tales.”

[638] bestialis] Day’s ed. “bestia.” Marshe’s ed. “bestis.”

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