Part 11

His noble blode neuer destayned was, Trew to his prince for to defend his ryght, Doblenes hatyng fals maters to compas, 150 Treytory and treason he banysht out of syght, With truth to medle was al his holl delyght, As all his countrey can testyfy the same: To sle[204] suche a lorde, alas, it was great shame!

If the hole quere of the Musis nyne In me all onely wer set and comprysed, Enbrethed with the blast of influence deuyne, As perfytly as could be thought or deuised; To me also allthough it were promised Of laureat Phebus holy the eloquence, 160 All were to lytell for his magnificence.

O yonge lyon, but tender yet of age, Grow and encrese, remembre thyn estate; God thé assyst unto thyn herytage, And geue thé grace to be more fortunate! Agayn rebellyones arme thé[205] to make debate; And, as the lyone, whiche is of bestes kynge, Unto thy subiectes be curteis and benygne.

I pray God sende thé prosperous lyfe and long, Stable thy mynde constant to be and fast, 170 Ryght to mayntayn, and to resyst all wronge: All flateryng faytors abhor and from thé cast; Of foule detraction God kepe thé from the blast! Let double delyng in thé haue no place, And be not lyght of credence in no case.

With heuy chere, with dolorous hart and mynd, Eche man may sorow in his inward thought This lordes[206] death, whose pere is hard to fynd, Algife Englond and Fraunce were thorow saught. Al kynges, all princes, al dukes, well they ought, 180 Both temporall and spiritual, for to complayne This noble man, that crewelly was slayne:

More specially barons, and those knygtes bold, And al other gentilmen with him enterteyned In fee, as menyall men of his housold, Whom he as lord worshyply mainteyned; To sorowful weping they ought to be constreined, As oft as they call to theyr remembraunce Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce.

O[207] perlese Prince of heuen emperyall! 190 That with one word formed al thing of noughte; Heuen, hell, and erthe obey unto thy call; Which to thy resemblaunce wondersly hast wrought All mankynd, whom thou full dere hast bought, With thy bloud precious our finaunce thou did pay, And vs redemed from the fendys pray;

To thé pray we, as Prince incomparable, As thou art of mercy and pyte the well, Thou bring unto thy joye eterminable The soull of this lorde from all daunger of hell, 200 In endles blys with thé to byde and dwell In thy palace aboue the orient, Where thou art Lord and God omnipotent.

O quene of mercy, O lady full of grace, Mayden most pure, and Goddes moder dere, To sorowful hartes chef comfort and solace, Of all women O flowre withouten[208] pere! Pray to thy Son aboue the sterris clere, He to vouchesaf, by thy mediacion, To pardon thy seruaunt, and brynge to saluacion. 210

In joy triumphaunt the heuenly yerarchy,[209] With all the hole sorte of that glorious place, His soull mot receyue into theyr company, Thorow bounty of Hym that formed all solace; Wel of pite, of mercy, and of grace, The Father, the Sonn, and the Holy Ghost, In Trinitate one God of myghtes[210] moste!

_Non sapit, humanis qui certam ponere rebus_ _Spem cupit: est hominum raraque ficta fides._

[184] _commonn_] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “cominion.”

[185] _slee_] MS. “slo,”—as in v. 35 (yet both Marshe’s ed. and MS. have “sleest” in v. 123).

[186] _world_] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “wold.”

[187] _not_] MS. “no.”

[188] _o[w]ne_] MS. “awne” (yet Percy gives “owne”).

[189] _holp_] MS. “help” (yet Percy gives “holp”).

[190] _you_] MS. “ye” (yet Percy gives “you”).

[191] _sle_] MS. “slo.”

[192] _bene_] MS. “be.”

[193] _one_] So MS. Not in Marshe’s ed.

[194] _backis_] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “backe.”

[195] _Of whos [life] they_, &c.] So Percy. Marshe’s ed. “_Of_ whome _they_,” &c. MS. “_Of whos they_,” &c.

[196] _ther_] So both Marshe’s ed. and MS. Percy printed the line thus;

“Take up whos wolde for _them_, they let hym ly.”

[197] _Yet_] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “Ye.”

[198] _while_] MS. “whils.”

[199] _cruelly_] MS. “cruell” (yet Percy gives “cruelly”).

[200] _lande_] MS. “sande” (yet Percy gives “lande”).

[201] _Prouydent_] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “Prudent.”

[202] _far_] So Percy. MS. and Marshe’s ed. “for.”

[203] _herty_] MS. “hartly.”

[204] _sle_] MS. “slo.”

[205] _the_] Omitted by Percy, though both in MS. and Marshe’s ed.

[206] _lordes_] So MS. rightly, making the word a dissyllable (yet Percy prints “lords”). Marshe’s ed. “lords.”

[207] _O_] So MS. Not in Marshe’s ed.

[208] _withouten_] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “without.”

[209] _yerarchy_] So Percy. Both Marshe’s ed. and MS. “gerarchy.”

[210] _myghtes_] So MS. (yet Percy prints “myghts”). Marshe’s ed. “myghts.”

TETRASTICHON[211] SKELTON. LAUREATI AD MAGISTRUM RUKSHAW, SACRÆ THEOLOGIÆ EGREGIUM PROFESSOREM.

_Accipe nunc demum, doctor celeberrime Rukshaw,_ _Carmina, de calamo quæ cecidere[212] meo;_ _Et quanquam[213] placidis non sunt modulata camenis,[214]_ _Sunt tamen ex nostro pectore prompta pio._

_Vale feliciter, virorum laudatissime._

[211] _Tetrastichon_, &c.] Follows the elegy on the Earl of Northumberland both in Marshe’s ed. and in the MS.

[212] _cecidere_] Marshe’s ed. and MS. “occidere.”

[213] _quanquam_] Marshe’s ed. and MS. “quaqua.”

[214] _camenis_] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “carmenis.”

SKELTON LAUREATE[215] AGAYNSTE

_A comely coystrowne, that curyowsly chawntyd, and curryshly cowntred, and madly in hys musykkys mokkyshly made agaynste the ix Musys of polytyke poems and poettys matryculat._

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[216] snapper and fall, Which men the viii dedly syn[217] call. This peuysh proud, thys prendergest, When he is well, yet can he not rest.

A swete suger lofe and sowre bayardys bun Be sumdele lyke in forme and shap, The one for a duke, the other for dun, 10 A maunchet for morell theron to snap. Hys hart is to hy to haue any hap; But for in his gamut carp that he can, Lo, Jak wold be a jentylman!

Wyth, Hey, troly, loly, lo, whip here, Jak, Alumbek sodyldym syllorym ben! Curyowsly he can both counter and knak Of Martyn Swart and 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 his byrth, that borne was full bace; Hys musyk withoute mesure, to sharp is hys my; He trymmyth in hys tenor to counter pyrdewy; His 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 joyse, 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, and he wyst how; Wele sped in spyndels and turnyng of tauellys; A bungler, a brawler, a pyker of quarellys.

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 Jak wold be a jentylman, that late was a grome.

Jak wold jet, and yet Jyll sayd nay; He counteth in his countenaunce to checke with the best: A malaperte medler that pryeth for his pray, In a dysh dare he rush at the rypest; Dremyng in dumpys to wrangyll and to wrest: He fyndeth a proporcyon in his prycke songe, To drynk at a draught a larg and a long.

Nay, iape not with hym, he is no small fole, 50 It is a solemnpne 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[218] commensyd in a cart, 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[219] dedit ægros_: 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, and 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[220] to fynde Vppon 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

[215] _Skelton Laureate_, &c.] This poem, and the three pieces which follow it, are given from a tract of four leaves, n. d., and without printer’s name (but evidently from the press of Pynson), collated with Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s _Workes_, 1568.

[216] _they_] So Marshe’s ed. Pynson’s ed. “the.”

[217] _syn_] Marshe’s ed. “sins.”

[218] _Deuyas_] Marshe’s ed. “dellias.”

[219] _Sospitati_] Pynson’s ed. “_suspirari_.” Marshe’s ed. “Supitati,” which the editor of 1736 changed into “supinitati.”

[220] _occasyons_] Marshe’s ed. “occasion.”

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;