Part 7

Skelton did loue wel a cup of good wyne. And on a daye he dyd make merye in a tauerne in London: and the morow after hee sent to the same place againe for a quart of yᵉ same wine he drunke of before; the whiche was clene chaunged & brued again. Skelton perceiuing this, he went to the tauerne, & dyd sytte down in a chaire, & dyd sygh very sore, and made great lamentacion. The wife of the house, perceiuinge this, said to master Skelton, Howe is it with you, master Skelton? He answered and said, I dyd neuer so euill; and then he dyd reache another greate syghe, sayinge, I am afraide that I shal neuer be saued, nor cum to heauen. Why, said the wife, shuld you dispaire so much in Goddes mercy? Nay, said he, it is past all remedye. Then said the wife, I dooe praye you breake your mind vnto mee. O, sayd Skelton, I would gladlye shewe you the cause of my dolour, if that I wist that you would keepe my counsell. Sir, said shee, I haue ben made of councel of greater matters then you can shew me. Naye, nay, said Skelton, my matter passeth all other matters, for I think I shal sinke to hell for my great offences; for I sent thys daye to you for wyne to saye masse withall; and wee haue a stronge lawe that euery priest is bounde to put into hys chalice, when hee doth singe or saye masse, some wyne and water; the which dothe signifye the water & bloude that dyd runne oute of Chrystes syde, when Longeous the blynde knyght dyd thrust a speare to Christes harte; & thys daye I dyd put no water into my wyne, when that I did put wine into my chalys. Then sayd the vintiners wife, Be mery, maister Skelton, and keepe my counsell, for, by my faythe, I dyd put into the vessell of wyne that I did send you of to day x. gallandes of water; and therfore take no thought, master Skelton, for I warraunt you. Then said Skelton, Dame, I dooe beshrewe thee for thy laboure, for I thought so muche before; for throughe such vses & brewyng of wyne maye men be deceyued, and be hurte by drynkinge of suche euell wyne; for all wines must be strong, and fayre, and well coloured; it must haue a redolent sauoure; it must be colde, and sprinkclynge in the peece or in the glasse.

¶ Thus endeth the merie Tales of Maister Skelton, very pleasaunt for the recreacion of the minde.

[138] _scio_] Old ed. “sci.”

[139] _Sepultus_] Old ed. “Sepuitus.”—This epitaph is made up from portions of Skelton’s verses on John Clarke and Adam Uddersal: see vol. i. 169, 172.

[140] _shal I come_] Old ed. “_shall_ I _I come_.”

[141] _Qui se exaltat humiliabitur, et qui se_] Old ed. “Que _se exaltat_ humilabitui, _et_ que_se_.”

[142] _a_] Old ed. “as.”

[143] _kepe_] Old ed. “kepte.”

[144] _the_] Old ed. “that.”

[145] _hym_] Old ed. “gym.”

NOTICES OF SKELTON FROM VARIOUS SOURCES.

From the imperfect copy of _A C. Mery Talys_, small fol., printed by John Rastell. (See Singer’s reprint, p. 55.)

“Of mayster Skelton that broughte the bysshop of Norwiche ii fesauntys. xl.

It fortuned ther was a great varyance bitwen the bysshop of Norwych and one mayster Skelton a poyet lauryat; in so much that the bysshop commaundyd hym that he shuld not come in his gatys. Thys mayster Skelton dyd absent hymselfe for a long seson. But at the laste he thought to do hys dewty to hym, and studyed weys how he myght obtayne the bysshopys fauour, and determynyd hemself that he wold come to hym wyth some present, and humble hymself to the byshop; and gat a cople of fesantes, and cam to the bysshuppys place, and requyryd the porter he myghte come in to speke wyth my lord. This porter, knowyng his lordys pleasure, wold not suffer him to come in at the gatys; wherfor thys mayster Skelton went on the baksyde to seke some other way to come in to the place. But the place was motyd that he cowlde se no way to come ouer, except in one place where there lay a long tree ouer the motte in maner of a brydge, that was fallyn down wyth wynd; wherfore thys mayster Skelton went along vpon the tree to come ouer, and whan he was almost ouer, hys fote slyppyd for lak of sure fotyng, and fel into the mote vp to myddyll; but at the last he recoueryd hymself, and, as well as he coud, dryed hymself ageyne, and sodenly cam to the byshop, beyng in hys hall, than lately rysen from dyner: whyche, whan he saw Skelton commyng sodenly, sayd to hym, Why, thow caytyfe, I warnyd the thow shuldys neuer come in at my gatys, and chargyd my porter to kepe the out. Forsoth, my lorde, quod Skelton, though ye gaue suche charge, and though your gatys by neuer so suerly kept, yet yt ys no more possible to kepe me out of your dorys than to kepe out crowes or pyes; for I cam not in at your gatys, but I cam ouer the mote, that I haue ben almost drownyd for my labour. And shewyd hys clothys how euyll he was arayed, whych causyd many that stode therby to laughe apace. Than quod Skelton, Yf it lyke your lordeshyp, I haue brought you a dyshe to your super, a cople of fesantes. Nay, quod the byshop, I defy the and thy fesauntys also, and, wrech as thou art, pyke the out of my howse, for I wyll none of thy gyft how [_something lost here_] Skelton than, consyderynge that the bysshoppe called hym fole so ofte, sayd to one of hys famylyers thereby, that thoughe it were euyll to be christened a fole, yet it was moche worse to be confyrmyd a fole of suche a bysshoppe, for the name of confyrmacyon muste nedes abyde. Therfore he ymagened howe he myghte auoyde that confyrmacyon, and mused a whyle, and at the laste sayde to the bysshope thus, If your lordeshype knewe the names of these fesantes, ye wold [be] contente to take them. Why, caytefe, quod the bisshoppe hastly and angrey, [what] be theyr names? Ywys, my lorde, quod Skelton, this fesante is called Alpha, which is, in primys the fyrst, and this is called O, that is, novissimus the last; and for the more playne vnderstandynge of my mynde, if it plese your lordeshype to take them, I promyse you, this Alpha is the fyrste that euer I gaue you, and this O is the laste that euer I wyll gyue you whyle I lyue. At which answere all that were by made great laughter, and they all de[sired the bishoppe] to be good lorde vnto him for his merye conceytes: at which [earnest entrety, as it] wente, the bysshope was contente to take hym vnto his fauer agayne.

By thys tale ye may se that mery conceytes dothe [a man more] good than to frete hymselfe with a[nger] and melancholy.”

From _Tales, and quicke answeres, very mery, and pleasant to rede_. 4to. n. d., printed by Thomas Berthelet. (See Singer’s reprint, p. 9.)

“Of the beggers answere to M. Skelton the poete. xiii.

A poure begger, that was foule, blacke, and lothlye to beholde, cam vpon a tyme vnto mayster Skelton the poete, and asked him his almes. To whom mayster Skelton sayde, I praye the gette the awaye fro me, for thou lokeste as though thou camest out of helle. The poure man, perceyuing he wolde gyue him no thynge, answerd, For soth, syr, ye say trouth; I came oute of helle. Why dyddest thou nat tary styl there? quod mayster Skelton. Mary, syr, quod the begger, there is no roume for suche poure beggers as I am; all is kepte for suche gentyl men as ye be.”

Prefixed to _Pithy pleasaunt and profitable workes of maister Skelton, Poete Laureate. Nowe collected and newly published. Anno 1568._ 12mo.

“If slouth and tract of time (That wears eche thing away) Should rust and canker worthy artes, Good works would soen decay. If suche as present are Forgoeth the people past, Our selu[e]s should soen in silence slepe, And loes renom at last. No soyll nor land so rude But som odd men can shoe: Than should the learned pas unknowne, Whoes pen & skill did floe? God sheeld our slouth[146] wear sutch, Or world so simple nowe, That knowledge scaept without reward, Who sercheth vertue throwe, And paints forth vyce aright, And blames abues of men, And shoes what lief desarues rebuke, And who the prayes of pen. You see howe forrayn realms Aduance their poets all; And ours are drowned in the dust, Or flong against the wall. In Fraunce did Marrot raigne; And neighbour thear vnto Was Petrark, marching full with Dantte, Who erst did wonders do; Among the noble Grekes Was Homere full of skill; And where that Ouid norisht was The soyll did florish still With letters hie of style; But Virgill wan the fraes,[147] And past them all for deep engyen, And made them all to gaes Upon the bookes he made: Thus eche of them, you see, Wan prayse and fame, and honor had, Eche one in their degree. I pray you, then, my friendes, Disdaine not for to vewe The workes and sugred verses fine Of our raer poetes newe; Whoes barborus language rued Perhaps ye may mislike; But blame them not that ruedly playes If they the ball do strike, Nor skorne not mother tunge, O babes of Englishe breed! I haue of other language seen, And you at full may reed Fine verses trimly wrought, And coutcht in comly sort; But neuer I nor you, I troe, In sentence plaine and short Did yet beholde with eye, In any forraine tonge, A higher verse, a staetly[er] style, That may be read or song, Than is this daye indeede Our Englishe verse and ryme, The grace wherof doth touch yᵉ gods, And reatch the cloudes somtime. Thorow earth and waters deepe The pen by skill doth passe, And featly nyps the worldes abuse, And shoes vs in a glasse The vertu and the vice Of eury wyght alyue: The hony combe that bee doth make Is not so sweete in hyue As are the golden leues That drops from poets head, Which doth surmount our common talke As farre as dros doth lead: The flowre is sifted cleane, The bran is cast aside, And so good corne is knowen from chaffe, And each fine graine is spide. Peers Plowman was full plaine, And Chausers spreet was great; Earle Surry had a goodly vayne; Lord Vaus the marke did beat, And Phaer did hit the pricke In thinges he did translate, And Edwards had a special gift; And diuers men of late Hath helpt our Englishe toung, That first was baes and brute:— Ohe, shall I leaue out Skeltons name, The blossome of my frute, The tree wheron indeed My branchis all might groe? Nay, Skelton wore the lawrell wreath, And past in schoels, ye knoe; A poet for his arte, Whoes iudgment suer was hie, And had great practies of the pen, His works they will not lie; His terms to taunts did lean, His talke was as he wraet, Full quick of witte, right sharp of words, And skilfull of the staet; Of reason riep and good, And to the haetfull mynd, That did disdain his doings still, A skornar of his kynd; Most pleasant euery way, As poets ought to be, And seldom out of princis grace, And great with eche degre. Thus haue you heard at full What Skelton was indeed; A further knowledge shall you haue, If you his bookes do reed. I haue of meer good will Theas verses written heer, To honour vertue as I ought, And make his fame apeer, That whan the garland gay Of lawrel leaues but laet: Small is my pain, great is his prayes, That thus sutch honour gaet.

_Finis quod Churchyarde._”

[146] _slouth_] Old ed. “sloulth.”

[147] _fraes_] i. e. phrase.—In the _Muses Library_, 1737, p. 138, this word is altered to “bayes.”

From _Johannis Parkhvrsti Ludicra siue Epigrammata Juuenilia_. 1573, 4to.

“De Skeltono vate & sacerdote.

Skeltonus grauidam reddebat forte puellam, Insigni forma quæ peperit puerum. Illico multorum fama hæc pervenit ad aures, Esse patrem nato sacrificum puero. Skeltonum facti non pœnitet aut pudet; ædes Ad sacras festo sed venit ipse die: Pulpita conscendit facturus verba popello; Inque hæc prorupit dicta vir ille bonus; Quid vos, O scurræ, capit admiratio tanta? Non sunt eunuchi, credite, sacrifici: O stolidi, vitulum num me genuisse putatis? Non genui vitulum, sed lepidum puerum; Sique meis verbis non creditis, en puer, inquit; Atque e suggesto protulit, ac abiit.”

p. 103.

From _A Treatise Against Jvdicial Astrologie. Dedicated to the Right Honorable Sir Thomas Egerton Knight, Lord Keeper of the Great Seale, and one of her Maiesties most honorable priuie Councell. Written by John Chamber, one of the Prebendaries of her Maiesties free Chappell of Windsor, and Fellow of Eaton College._ 1601. 4to.

“Not much vnlike to merrie Skelton, who thrust his wife out at the doore, and receiued her in againe at the window. The storie is well known how the bishop had charged him to thrust his wife out of the doore: but that which was but a meriment in Skelton,” &c. p. 99.

“So that the leape yeare, for any thing I see, might well vse the defence of merie Skelton, who being a priest, and hauing a child by his wife, euerie one cryed out, Oh, Skelton hath a child, fie on him, &c. Their mouthes at that time he could not stop: but on a holy day, in a mery mood, he brought the child to church with him, and in the pulpit stript it naked, and held it out, saying, See this child: is it not a pretie child, as other children be, euen as any of yours? hath it not legs, armes, head, feet, limbes, proportioned euery way as it shuld be? If Skelton had begot a monster, as a calfe, or such like, what a life should poore Skelton haue had then? So we say for the leape yeare, if it had changed the nature of things, as it is charged, how should it haue done then to defende itselfe?” p. 113.

From _The Life of Long Meg of Westminster: containing the mad merry prankes she played in her life time, not onely in performing sundry quarrels with diuers ruffians about London: But also how valiantly she behaued her selfe in the warres of Bolloingne._ 1635. 4to. (Of this tract there is said to have been a much earlier edition. I quote from the reprint in _Miscellanea Antiqua Anglicana_, 1816.)

“CHAP. II.

Containing how he [the carrier] placed her in Westminster, and what shee did at her placing.

After the carrier had set vp his horse, and dispatcht his lading, hee remembred his oath, and therefore bethought him how he might place these three maides: with that hee called to minde that the mistresse at the Eagle in Westminster had spoken diuers times to him for a seruant; he with his carriage passed ouer the fields to her house, where he found her sitting and drinking with a Spanish knight called sir James of Castile, doctor Skelton, and Will Sommers; told her how hee had brought vp to London three Lancashire lasses, and seeing she was oft desirous to haue a maid, now she should take her choyce which of them she would haue. Marry, quoth shee (being a very merry and a pleasant woman), carrier, thou commest in good time; for not onely I want a maid, but heere bee three gentlemen that shall giue me their opinions, which of them I shall haue. With that the maids were bidden come in, and she intreated them to giue their verdict. Streight as soone as they saw Long Meg, they began to smile; and doctor Skelton in his mad merry veine, blessing himselfe, began thus:

_Domine, Domine, vnde hoc?_ What is she in the gray cassock? Me thinkes she is of a large length, Of a tall pitch, and a good strength, With strong armes and stiffe bones; This is a wench for the nones: Her lookes are bonny and blithe, She seemes neither lither nor lithe, But young of age, And of a merry visage, Neither beastly nor bowsie, Sleepy nor drowsie, But faire fac’d and of a good size; Therefore, hostesse, if you be wise, Once be ruled by me, Take this wench to thee; For this is plaine, Shee’l doe more worke than these twaine: I tell thee, hostesse, I doe not mocke; Take her in the gray cassocke.

What is your opinion? quoth the hostesse to sir James of Castile. Question with her, quoth he, what she can do, and then Ile giue you mine opinion: and yet first, hostesse, aske Will Sommers opinion. Will smiled, and swore that his hostesse should not haue her, but king Harry should buy her. Why so, Will? quoth doctor Skelton. Because, quoth Will Sommers, that she shall be kept for breed; for if the king would marry her to long Sanders of the court, they would bring forth none but souldiers. Well, the hostesse demanded what her name was. Margaret, forsooth, quoth she. And what worke can you doe? Faith, little, mistresse, quoth she, but handy labour, as to wash and wring, to make cleane a house, to brew, bake, or any such drudgery: for my needle, to that I haue beene little vsed to. Thou art, quoth the hostesse, a good lusty wench, and therefore I like thee the better: I haue here a great charge, for I keepe a victualling house, and diuers times there come in swaggering fellowes, that, when they haue eat and dranke, will not pay what they call for: yet if thou take the charge of my drinke, I must be answered out of your wages. Content, mistresse, quoth she; for while I serue you, if any stale cutter comes in, and thinkes to pay the shot with swearing, hey, gogs wounds, let me alone! Ile not onely (if his clothes be worth it) make him pay ere hee passe, but lend him as many bats as his crag will carry, and then throw him out of doores. At this they all smiled. Nay, mistresse, quoth the carrier, ’tis true, for my poore pilch here is able with a paire of blew shoulders to sweare as much; and with that he told them how she had vsed him at her comming to London. I cannot thinke, quoth sir James of Castile, that she is so strong. Try her, quoth Skelton, for I haue heard that Spaniards are of wonderfull strength. Sir James in a brauery would needs make experience, and therefore askt the maide if she durst change a box on the eare with him. I, sir, quoth she, that I dare, if my mistresse will giue me leaue. Yes, Meg, quoth she; doe thy best. And with that it was a question who should stand first: Marry, that I will, sir, quoth she; and so stood to abide sir James his blow; who, forcing himselfe with all his might, gaue her such a box that she could scarcely stand, yet shee stirred no more than a post. Then sir James he stood, and the hostesse willed her not spare her strength. No, quoth Skelton; and if she fell him downe, Ile giue her a paire of new hose and shoone. Mistresse, quoth Meg (and with that she strooke vp her sleeue), here is a foule fist, and it hath past much drudgery, but, trust me, I thinke it will giue a good blow: and with that she raught at him so strongly, that downe fell sir James at her feet. By my faith, quoth Will Sommers, she strikes a blow like an oxe, for she hath strooke down an asse. At this they all laught. Sir James was ashamed, and Meg was entertained into seruice.”

“CHAP. IV.

Containing the merry skirmish that was betweene her and sir James of Castile, a Spanish knight, and what was the end of their combat.

There was a great suter to Meg’s mistresse, called sir James of Castile, to winne her loue: but her affection was set on doctor Skelton; so that sir James could get no grant of any fauour. Whereupon he swore, if hee knew who were her paramour, hee would runne him thorow with his rapier. The mistresse (who had a great delight to bee pleasant) made a match betweene her and Long Meg, that she should goe drest in gentlemans apparell, and with her sword and buckler goe and meet sir James in Saint Georges field[s]; if she beat him, she should for her labour haue a new petticote. Let me alone, quoth Meg; the deuill take me if I lose a petticote. And with that her mistris deliuered her a suit of white sattin, that was one of the guards that lay at her house. Meg put it on, and tooke her whinyard by her side, and away she went into Saint Georges fields to meet sir James. Presently after came sir James, and found his mistris very melancholy, as women haue faces that are fit for all fancies. What aile you, sweetheart? quoth he; tell me; hath any man wronged you? if he hath, be he the proudest champion in London, Ile haue him by the eares, and teach him to know, sir James of Castile can chastise whom he list. Now, quoth she, shall I know if you loue me: a squaring long knaue, in a white sattin doublet, hath this day monstrously misused me in words, and I haue no body to reuenge it; and in a brauery went out of doores, and bad the proudest champion I had come into Saint Georges fields and quit my wrong, if they durst: now, sir James, if euer you loued mee, learne the knaue to know how he hath wronged me, and I will grant whatsoeuer you will request at my hands. Marry, that I will, quoth he; and for that you may see how I will vse the knaue, goe with me, you and master doctor Skelton, and be eye-witnesses of my manhood. To this they agreed; and all three went into Saint Georges fields, where Long Meg was walking by the wind-mils. Yonder, quoth she, walkes the villain that abused me. Follow me, hostesse, quoth sir James; Ile goe to him. As soone as hee drew nigh, Meg began to settle herselfe, and so did sir James: but Meg past on as though she would haue gone by. Nay, sirrah, stay, quoth sir James; you and I part not so, we must haue a bout ere we passe; for I am this gentlewomans champion, and flatly for her sake will haue you by the eares. Meg replied not a word; but only out with her sword: and to it they went. At the first bout Meg hit him on the hand, and hurt him a little, but endangered him diuers times, and made him giue ground, following so hotly, that shee strucke sir James’ weapon out of his hand; then when she saw him disarm’d, shee stept within him, and, drawing her ponyard, swore all the world should not saue him. Oh, saue mee, sir! quoth hee; I am a knight, and ’tis but for a womans matter; spill not my blood. Wert thou twenty knights, quoth Meg, and were the king himselfe heere, hee should not saue thy life, vnlesse thou grant mee one thing. Whatsoeuer it bee, quoth sir James. Marry, quoth shee, that is, that this night thou wait on my trencher at supper at this womans house; and when supper is done, then confesse me to be thy better at weapon in any ground in England. I will do it, sir, quoth he, as I am a true knight. With this they departed, and sir James went home with his hostesse sorrowfull and ashamed, swearing that his adversary was the stoutest man in England. Well, supper was prouided, and sir Thomas Moore and diuers other gentlemen bidden thither by Skeltons means, to make vp the jest; which when sir James saw inuited, hee put a good face on the matter, and thought to make a slight matter of it, and therefore beforehand told sir Thomas Moore what had befallen him, how entring in a quarrell of his hostesse, hee fought with a desperate gentleman of the court, who had foiled him, and giuen him in charge to wait on his trencher that night. Sir Thomas Moore answered sir James, that it was no dishonour to be foyled by a gentleman [of England?], sith Cæsar himselfe was beaten backe by their valour. As thus they were discanting of the valour of Englishmen, in came Meg marching in her mans attire: euen as shee entered in at the doore, This, sir Thomas Moore, quoth sir James, is that English gentleman whose prowesse I so highly commend, and to whom in all valour I account myselfe so inferiour. And, sir, quoth shee, pulling off her hat, and her haire falling about her eares, hee that so hurt him to day is none other but Long Meg of Westminster; and so you are all welcome. At this all the company fell in a great laughing, and sir James was amazed that a woman should so wap him in a whinyard: well, hee as the rest was faine to laugh at the matter, and all that supper time to wait on her trencher, who had leaue of her mistris that shee might be master of the feast; where with a good laughter they made good cheere, sir James playing the proper page, and Meg sitting in her maiesty. Thus was sir James disgraced for his loue, and Meg after counted for a proper woman.”