Put out his hed lyst nat for to dare,
But lyk a man upon that tour to abyde,
For cast of eggys wil not conys spare,
Tyl he be quaylled body, bak, and syde;
His heed endooryd, and of verray pryde,
Put out his armys, shewith abrood his face,
The fenestrallys be made for hym so wyde,
Cleymyth to been a capteyn of that place.
The bastyle longith of verray dewe ryght,
To fals bakerys it is trewe herytage;
Severelle to them, this knoweth every wight,
Be kynde assyngned for ther sittyng stage,
Wheer they may freely shewe out ther visage,
Whan they take oonys there possessione,
Owthir in youthe or in myddyl age,
Men doon hem wrong yif they take hym done.
Let mellerys and bakerys gadre hem a gilde,
And alle of assent make a fraternite;
Undir the pillory a litil chapell bylde,
The place amorteyse and purchase liberte,
For alle thoo that of ther noumbre be;
Whatevir it coost afftir that they wende,
They may cleyme be just auctorite,
Upon that bastile to make an ende.
EXPt. Q’ LYDGATE.
THE END.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY RICHARD TAYLOR.
