A Listing of the Poems
- Agaynste a Comely Coystrowne (listed by incipit)
- The Bowge of Courte
- A lawde and prayse
- A ballade of the Scottysshe Kynge
The PoemsAgaynste a Comely Coystrowne
Skelton Laureate agaynste a comely Coystrowne that curyowsly chawntyd And curryshly cowntred, And madly in hys Musykkys mokkyshly made, Agaynste the .ix. Musys of polytyke Poems & Poettys matryculat.The Bowge of Courte
[Of all nacyons vnder the heuyn][Note: Contra Alium omitted.](i)
Of all nacyons vnder the heuyn.
These frantyke foolys I hate most of all.
For though they stumble in the synnys seuyn.
In peuyshnes yet they snapper and fall.
Which men the .viii. dedly syn call. [5]
This peuysh proud thys prendergest.
When he is well yet can he not rest.
A swete suger-lofe & sowre bayardys-bun.
Be sumdele lyke in forme & shap.
The one for a duke the other for dun. [10]
A maunchet for morell thereon to snap.
Hys hart is to hy to haue any hap.
But for in his gamvt carp that he can.
Lo Iak wold be a Ientylman
Wyth hey troly loly lo whip here Iak. [15]
Alumbek sodyldym syllorym ben.
Curyowsly he can both counter & knak
Of Martyn swart & all hys mery men.
Lord how perkyn is proud of hys Pohen.
But ask wher he fyndyth among hys monacordys. [20]
An holy-water clarke a ruler of lordys.
He can not fynd it in rule nor in space.
He solfyth to haute hys Trybyll is to hy.
He braggyth of hys byrth that borne was full bace
Hys musyk withoute mesure to sharp is hys my [25]
He trymmyth in hys tenor to counter pyrdewy.
Hys dyscant is besy it is withoute a mene.
To fat is hys fantsy hys wyt is to lene.
He lumbryth on a lewde lewte roty bully Ioyse.
Rumbyll downe tumbyll downe hey go now now. [30]
He fumblyth in hys fyngeryng an vgly good noyse.
It semyth the sobbyng of an old sow.
He wold be made moch of & he wyst how.
Wele sped In spyndels and turnyng of tauellys.
A bungler a brawler a pyker of quarellys. [35]
Comely he clappyth a payre of clauycordys.
He whystelyth so swetely he makyth me to swete.
His descant is dasshed full of dyscordes
A red angry man but easy to intrete.
An vssher of the hall fayn wold I get. [40]
To poynte this proude page a place and a rome
For Iak wold be a Ientylman that late was a grome
Iak wold Iet and yet Iyll sayd nay.
He counteth in his countenaunce to checke with the best.
A malaperte medler that pryeth for his pray [45]
In a dysh dare he rush at the rypest.
Dremyng in dumpys to wrangyll & to wrest.
He fyndeth a proporcyon in his prycke-songe.
To drynk at a draught a larg & a long
Nay iape not with hym he is no small fole [50]
It is a solempne syre and a solayne.
For lordes and ladyes lerne at his scole
He techyth them so wysely to solf and to fayne.
That neyther they synge wel prycke-songe nor playne
Thys docter deuyas commensyd in a cart. [55]
A master a mynstrell a fydler a farte
What though ye can cownter Custodi nos.
As well it becomyth yow a parysh towne-Clarke.
To syng Sospitati dedit Egros.
Yet bere ye not to bold to braule ne to bark. [60]
At me, that medeled nothyng with youre wark.
Correct fyrst thy-self, walk & be nought.
Deme what thou lyst thou knowyst not my thought.
A prouerbe of old say well or be styll.
Ye are to vnhappy occasyons to fynde. [65]
Uppon me to clater or els to say yll.
Now haue I shewyd you part of your proud mynde
Take thys in worth the best is behynde.
Wryten at Croydon by Crowland in the Clay.
On Candelmas euyn the Kalendas of May. [70]
.Finis.
[Vppon a deedmans hed][Womanhod wanton ye want](iii)
Skelton Laureat vppon a deedmans hed that was sent to hym from an honorable Ientyll-woman 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. [5]
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 hys gastly Iaw. [15]
Gaspyng asyde.
Nakyd of hyde.
Neyther flesh nor fell.
Then by my councell.
Loke that ye spell. [20]
Well thys gospell.
For wher-so we dwell.
Deth wyll vs quell.
And with vs mell.
For all oure pamperde paunchys. [25]
Ther may no fraunchys.
Nor worldly blys.
Redeme vs from this.
Oure days be datyd.
To be chek-matyd. [30]
With drawttys of deth.
Stoppyng oure breth.
Oure eyen synkyng.
Oure bodys stynkyng.
Oure gummys grynnyng. [35]
Oure soulys brynnyng.
To whom then shall we sew.
For to haue rescew.
But to swete Iesu.
On vs then for to rew. [40]
O goodly chyld.
Of Mary mylde.
Then be oure shylde.
That we be not exylyd.
To the dyne dale. [45]
Of boteles 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. [55]
That is so hy.
Eternally.
To beholde and se.
The Trynyte.
Amen. [60]
Myrres vous y(iv)
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. [5]
For all your draffe yet and your 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. [15]
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 pyggys-ny. [20]
I truste to quyte you or I dy.
Youre key is mete for euery lok.
Youre key is commen & hangyth owte.
Youre key is redy we nede not knok.
Nor stand long wrestyng there-aboute. [25]
Of youre doregate ye haue no doute.
But one thyng is that ye be lewde.
Holde youre tong now all be shrewde.
To mastres Anne that farly swete.
That wonnes at the key in temmys strete. [30]
A lawde and prayseIN Autumpne whan the sonne in vyrgyne
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 dyd dres
I callynge to mynde the great auctoryte
Of poetes olde whyche full craftely
Under as couerte termes as coude be [10]
Can touche a troughte and cloke it subtylly
Wyth fresshe vtteraunce full sentencyously
Dyuerse in style some spared not vyce to wrythe
Some of moralyte nobly dyde endyte
Wherby I rede theyr renome and theyr fame
Maye neuer dye bute euermore endure
I was sore moued to a force the same
But Ignoraunce full soone dyde me dyscure
And shewed that in this arte I was not sure
For to Illumyne she sayde I was to dulle [20]
Auysynge me my penne awaye to pulle
And not to wrythe/ for he so wyll atteyne
Excedynge ferther than his connynge is
His hede maye be harde but feble is his 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 & down my mynde was drawen & cast
That I ne wyste what to do was beste [30]
Soo 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 dreste
At harwyche porte slumbrynge as I laye
In myne hostes house called powers keye
Me thoughte I sawe a shyppe goodly of sayle
Come saylynge forth into that hauen brood
Her takelynge ryche and of hye apparayle
She kyste an anker and there she laye at rode
Marchauntes her borded to see what she had lode [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
The awnner therof is lady of estate [50]
Whoos name to tell is dame saunce pere
Her 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 of sylke fyne
Of golde of tessew the fynest that myghte be
In a trone whiche fer clerer 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 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 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 the spede
What is thy name and I sayde it was drede
What mouyd the 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 another gentylwoman
Desyre her name was and so she me tolde
Sayenge to me broder 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
Maystres quod I. I haue none aquentaunce
That wyll for me be medyatoure and mene
And this another 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 Iewell 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 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 you er 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 & meanes fynde
Forsothe quod she howeuer blowe the wynde [110]
Fortune gydeth and ruleth all oure shyppe
Whome she hateth shall ouer the seeboorde skyp
Whome she loueth of all plesyre is ryche
Whyles she laugheth and hath luste for to playe
Whome she hateth she casteth in the dyche
For whan she frouneth she thynketh to make a fray
She cheryssheth him and hym she casseth a waye
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.
Drede
THe sayle is vp fortune ruleth our helme
We wante no wynde to passe now ouerall
Fauoure we haue toughther than ony elme
That wyll abyde and neuer frome vs fall [130]
But vnder hony oftetyme lyeth bytter gall
For as methoughte 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 & pale
And Haruy hafter 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.
Noothynge 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 & serue my ladyes grace
Ye be to her yea worth a thousande pounde
I herde her speke of you within shorte 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 the
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 in fauoure and fortune is your gyde
And as she wyll so shall our grete shyppe sayle
Thyse lewde cokwattes 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 methoughte he ware on hym a cloke
That lyned was with doubtfull doublenes
Methoughte of wordes that he had full a poke
His stomak stuffed oftetymes dyde reboke [180]
Suspycyon methoughte mette hym at a brayde
And I drewe nere to herke what they two sayde
In fayth 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 the
Twyst 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
Methoughte 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 to me quod he than
And thus to talke with me he began
Suspycyon
Ye remembre the gentylman ryghte nowe
That commaunde with you methought a praty space
Beware of him for I make god auowe
He wyll begyle you and speke fayre to your face [200]
Ye neuer dwelte in suche another 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 of my counselle
But I wonder what the deuyll of helle
He sayde of me whan he with you dyde talke
By myne auyse vse not with him to walke [210]
The soueraynst thynge that ony man maye haue
Is lytyll to saye/ and moche to here and see
For but I trusted you so god me saue
I wolde noothynge so playne be
To you oonly methynke 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
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 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 came lepynge lyghte as lynde
Upon his breste he bare a versyngeboxe
His throte was clere and lustely coude fayne
Methoughte his gowne was all furred wyth foxe
And euer he sange/ sythe I am nothynge 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 purse was half aferde
Heruy hafter.
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 methynke ye make a verse
I coude it skan and ye wolde it 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 & lete god stere [250]
I wolde be mery what wynde that euer blowe
Heue & how rombelow row the bote norman rowe
Prynces of youghte can ye synge by rote
Or shall I sayle wyth you a felashyp assaye
For on the booke I can not synge a note
Wolde to god it wolde please you some daye
A baladeboke 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 & wayes that ye haue
By goddis soule I wonder how ye gete
Soo greate pleasyre 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 hereInne
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 hereafter a frende of you to haue [280]
Drede.
Wyth that as he departed soo fro me
Anone ther mette with him as methoughte
A man/ but wonderly besene was he
He loked hawte he sette eche man at noughte
His gawdy garment with scornnys was all wrought
With Indygnacyon lyned was his hode
He frowned as he wolde swere by cockes blode
He bote the lyppe he loked passynge coye
His face was belymmed as byes had him stounge
It was no tyme with him to Iape nor toye [290]
Enuye hathe wasted hys 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 carkes hyghte
To heruy hafter 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 & 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 Iohan dawes that came but yesterdaye
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 lyghte
By god quod Heruy & 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 such conceyte [310]
Turde quod Hafter I wyll the nothynge layne
There muste for hym be layde some prety beyte
We tweyne I trowe be not withoute dysceyte
Fyrste pycke a quarell & fall oute with hym then
And soo outface hym with a carde of ten
Forthwith he made on me a prowde assawte
With scornfull loke meuyd all in moode
He wente aboute to take me in a fawte
He frounde he stared he stampped where he stoode
I loked 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 yesternyght
Wylt thou abyde by the wordes agayne
By god I haue of the now grete dyspyte
I shall the 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 such maysters to playe
I tell the 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 the
Come whan it wyll oppose the I shall
Whatsomeuer auenture therof fall
Trowest thou dreuyll I saye thou gawdy knaue
That I haue deynte to see the 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 the oute of thy clothes shake
Drede.
Wyth that came Ryotte russhynge all atones
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
Nowe haue at all by saynte Thomas of kente
And euer he threwe & kyst I wote nere what
His here was growen thoroweoute his hat [350]
Thenne I behelde how he dysgysed was
His hede was heuy for watchynge ouernyghte
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 with patches rede & 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 droppynge his lyppes were full drye
And by his syde his whynarde & his pouche
The deuyll myghte daunce therin for ony crowche
Counter he coude (O lux) vpon a potte
An eestrychefedder of a capons tayle
He set vp fresshely vpon his hat a lofte
What reuellroute quod he and gan to rayle
How ofte he hadde hit Ienet on the tayle
Of felyce fetewse and lytell prety cate [370]
How ofte he knocked at her klyckedgate
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 the nowe but late
Forsothe quod I in this courte I dwell nowe
Welcome quod Ryote I make god auowe
Ryote.
And syr in fayth why comste not vs amonge
To make the mery as other felowes done [380]
Thou muste swere and stare man aldaye 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 & slepe
And thus with vs good company to kepe
Plucke vp thyne herte vpon a mery pyne
And lete us laugh a placke or tweyne at nale
What the deuyll man myrthe was neuer one
What loo man see here of dyce a bale
A brydelyngecaste 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 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 harnes 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 durste auenture to Iourney thorugh Fraunce
Who rydeth on her he nedeth not to care
For she is trussed for to breke a launce [410]
It is a curtel that well can wynche & praunce
To her wyll I nowe all my pouerte lege
And tyll I come haue here is myne hat to plege
Drede
Gone is this knaue this rybaude foule & leude
He ran as fast as euer that he myghte
Unthryftynes in hym may well be shewed
For whome tyborne groneth both daye and nyghte
And as I stode and kyste asyde my syghte
Dysdayne I sawe with Dyssymulacyon
Standynge in sadde communicacion [420]
But there was poyntynge & noddynge with his hede
And many wordes sayde in secrete wyse
They wandred ay and stode styll in no stede
Methoughte alwaye Dyscymular dyde deuyse
Me passynge sore myne herte than gan aryse
I dempte & 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 & lyke a pyned goost
That other loked as he wolde me haue slayne [430]
And to mewarde 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 methought I sawe
A spone of golde full of hony swete
To fede a fole and for to preye a dawe
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 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 fraye
But as for that connynge hath no foo
Saue hym that nought can/ scrypture sayth soo.
I knowe your vertu and your lytterkture
By that lytel connynge that I haue [450]
Ye be malygned sore I you ensure
But ye haue crafte yourselfe 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 allbeit 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 allthynge
By god I saye there is a grete hertebrennynge [460]
Betwene the persone ye wote of you
Alas I coude not dele so with a Iew
I wolde eche man were as playne as I
It is a worlde I saye to here of some
I hate this faynynge fye vpon it fye
A man can not wote where to become
I wys I coude tell 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 & frere [470]
I hate this 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 stoppyngeoyster 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 & false he is god wote
The dreuyll stondeth to herken and he can
It were more thryft he boughte him a newe cote
It wyll not be/ his purse is not on flote
All that he wereth it is borowed ware
His wytte is thynne his hode is thredebare [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 a mys
And I am your syr so haue I blys
In euery poynte that I can do or saye
Gyue me your honde farewell & 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 nothynge 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 anothers page
For he coude well vpon a casket wayte
His hode all pounsed and garded lyke a cage
Lyghte lymefynger 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
Parde remembre whan ye were there
There I wynked on you/ wote ye not where
In (A) loco I mene iuxta (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 mordre wolde come oute
Who deleth with shrewes hath nede to loke aboute
Drede.
And as he rounded thus in myne ere
Of false collusyon confetryd by assente
Methoughte 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 & wroth 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 indede
But yet oftyme suche dremes be founde trewe
Now constrewe ye what is the resydewe
A ballade of the Scottysshe Kyngea laude and prayse made for our souereigne lord the kyng
The Rose both white and Rede
In one rose now dothe grow:
Thus thorow every stede
Thereof the fame dothe blow:
Grace the sede did sow. [5]
England now gaddir flowris
Exclude now all dolowrs
Noble Henry the eight
Thy loving souereine lorde
Of kingis line moost streight [10]
His titille dothe Recorde:
In whome dothe wele Acorde
Alexis yonge of Age
Adrastus wise and sage:
Astrea Iustice hight [15]
That from the starry sky
Shall now com and do Right:
This hunderd yere scantly
A man kowd not Aspy
That Right dwelt vs Among [20]
And that was the more wrong.
Right shall the foxis chare
The wolvis the beris also
That wrowght have moche care
And browght Englond in wo [25]
They shall wirry no mo
Nor wrote the Rosary
By extort Trechery.
Of this our noble king
The law they shall not breke [30]
They shall com to Rekening
No man for them wil speke:
The pepil durst not creke
Theire grevis to complaine
They browght them in soche paine. [35]
Therfor nomore they shall
The commouns overbace
That wont wer overall
Both lorde and knight to face:
For now the yeris of grace [40]
And welthe ar com Agayne
That maketh England faine.
Adonis of Freshe colour
Of yowthe the godely flour
Our prince of hih honour [45]
Our paves our succour
Our king our Emperour
Our Priamus of Troy
Our welth our worldly Ioy.
Vpon vs he doth Reigne [50]
That makith our hartis glad
As king moost souereine
That ever Englond had
Demure sober and sad
And Martis lusty knight [55]
God save him in his Right:
Amen
Bien men souient:
Deo .21. gracias
Per me laurigerum britonum Skeltonida vatem:Kynge Iamy, Iomy your. Ioye is all go
Ye sommoned our kynge why dyde ye so
To you nothyng it dyde accorde
To sommon our kynge your souerayne lorde.
A kynge a somner it is wonder [5]
Knowe ye not salte and suger asonder
In your somnynge ye were to malaperte
And your harolde nothynge experte
Ye thought ye dyde it full valyauntolye
But not worth thre skyppes of a pye [10]
Syr squyer galyarde ye were to swyfte.
Your wyll renne before your wytte.
To be so scornefull to your alye,
Your counseyle was not worth a flye.
Before the frensshe kynge, danes, and other [15]
Ye ought to honour your lorde and brother
Trowe ye syr Iames his noble grace,
For you and your scottes wolde tourne his face
Now ye proude scottes of gelawaye.
For your kynge may synge welawaye [20]
Now must ye knowe our kynge for your regent,
Your souerayne lorde and presedent,
In hym is figured melchisedeche
And ye be desolate as armeleche
He is our noble champyon. [25]
A kynge anoynted and ye be non
Thrugh your counseyle your fader was slayne
Wherfore I fere ye wyll suffre payne,
And ye proude scottes of dunbar
Parde ye be his homager. [30]
And suters to his parlyment,
Ye dyde not your dewty therin.
Wyerfore ye may it now repent
Ye bere yourselfe somwhat to bolde,
Therfore ye haue lost your copyholde. [35]
Ye be boundetenauntes to his estate.
Gyue vp yovr game ye playe chekmate.
For to the castell of norham
I vnderstonde to soone ye cam.
For a prysoner there now ye be [40]
Eyther to the deuyll or the trinite.
Thanked be saynte Gorge our ladyes knythe
Your pryd is paste adwe good nycht.
Ye haue determyned to make a fraye
Our kynge than beynge out of the waye [45]
But by the power and myght of god
Ye were beten weth your owne rod
By your wanton wyll syr at a worde
Ye haue loste spores, cotearmure, and sworde
Ye had bee better to haue busked to huntley_bankes,[50]
Than in Englonde to playe ony suche prankes
But ye had some wyld sede to sowe.
Therfore ye be layde now full lowe,
Your power coude no lenger attayne
Warre with our kynge to meyntayne. [55]
Of the kynge of nauerne ye may take hede,
How vnfortunately he doth now spede,
In double walles now he dooth dreme.
That is a kynge witout a realme
At hym example ye wolde none take. [60]
Experyence hath brought you in the same brake
Of the outyles ye roughfoted scottes,
We have well eased you of the bottes
Ye rowe ranke scottes and dronken danes
Of our englysshe bowes ye haue fette your banes. [65]
It is not syttynge in tour nor towne,
A somner to were a kynges crowne
That noble erle the whyte Lyon.
Your pompe and pryde hath layde a downe
His sone the lorde admyrall is full good. [70]
His swerde hath bathed in the scottes blode
God saue kynge. Henry and his lordes all
And sende the frensshe kynge suche another fall
Amen, for saynt charyte And god saue noble.
Kynge Henry, The .viij.
© Greg Waite (ETTB; U Otago, NZ), 1996-; portions © R.G. Siemens, 1996-.
Last updated 21 August 2001 .