John Skelton.
TO MAYSTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY.
Mirry Margaret,
As mydsomer flowre;
Jentill as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre:
With solace and gladnes,
Moche mirthe and no madness,
All good and no badness,
So joyously,
So maydenly,
So womanly,
Her demenyng
In every thynge,
Far, far passynge
That I can endyght,
Or suffyce to wryghte,
Of mirry Margaret,
As mydsomer flowre,
Jentyll as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre:
As pacient and as styll,
And as full of good wyll
As faire Isaphill;
Colyaunder,
Swete pomaunder,
Goode Cassaunder;
Stedfast of thought,
Wele made, wele wrought;
Far may be sought,
Erst that ye can fynde
So corteise, so kynde,
As mirry Margaret,
This mydsomer floure,
Jentyll as fawcoun
Or hawke of the towre.
CARDINAL WOLSEY.
[FROM "WHY COME YE NOT TO COURT?">[
He is set so hye
In his ierarchye
Of frantike frenesy,
And folish fantasy,
That in chambre of stars[1]
Al maters ther he mars,
Clapping his rod on the borde,
No man dare speake a worde:
For he hath al the saying
Without any renaying.
He rolleth in his Recordes;
He saith, "How say ye, my lordes?
Is not my reason good?"
Good!—even good—Robin Hood!—
Borne up on every syde
With pompe and with pryde,
With trump up alleluya,[2]
For dame Philargyria[3]
Hath so his hart in hold.
Adew, Philosophia!
Adew, Theologia!
Welcome, dame Simonia,[4]
With dame Castamergia,[5]
To drink and for to eate,
Sweete ipocras[6] and sweete meate.
To keep his fleshe chaste
In Lente, for his repaste
He eateth capons stewed,
Fesaunt and partriche mewed—
Spareth neither mayd ne wife—
This is a postel's[7] life!
