Chapter VIII: Part 8

I haue your lewde letter receyuyd,
And well I haue yt perseyuyd,
And your skryke I haue aspyed,
That your mad mynde contryuyd.
Sauynge your vsscheres rod,
I caste me nat to be od
With neythyr of yow tewyne:
Wherfore I wryght ageyne;
How the fauyr of your face
Is voyd of all good grace; 10
For alle your carpet cousshons,
Ye haue knauyche condycyonns.
Gup, marmeset, jast ye, morelle!
I am laureat, I am no lorelle.
Lewdely your tyme ye spende,
My lyuyng to reprehende;[554]
And wyll neuer intende
Your awne lewdnes to amende:
Your Englyshe lew[d]ly ye sorte,
And falsly ȝe me reporte. 20
Garnyche, ye gape to wyde:
Yower knavery I wyll nat hyde,
For to aswage your pride.
Whan ye war yonger of age,
Ye war a kechyn page,
A dyshwasher, a dryvyll,
In the pott your nose dedde sneuyll;
Ye fryed and ye broylyd,
Ye rostyd and ye boylyd,
Ye rostyd, lyke a fonne, 30
A gose with the fete vponne;
Ye slvfferd[555] vp sowse
In my lady Brewsys howse.
Wherto xulde I wryght
Of soche a gresy knyght?
A bawdy dyscheclowte,
That bryngyth the worlde abowte
With haftynge and with polleynge,
With lyenge and controlleynge.
At Gynys when ye ware 40
But a slendyr spere,
Dekkyd lewdly in your gere;
For when ye dwelt there,
Ye had a knauysche cote
Was skantly worthe a grote;
In dud frese ye war schrynyd,
With better frese lynyd;
The oute syde euery day,
Ye myght no better a way;
The insyde ye ded calle 50
Your best gowne festyvalle.
Your drapry ȝe ded wante,
The warde with yow was skante.
When ye kyst a shepys ie,
... [556]mastres Andelby,
... Gynys vpon a gonge,
... sat sumwhat to longe;
... hyr husbandes hed,
... malle of lede,
... that ye ther prechyd, 60
To hyr loue ye nowte rechyd:
Ye wolde haue bassyd hyr bumme,
So that sche wolde haue kum
On to your lowsy den;
But sche of all men
Had yow most in despyght,
Ye loste hyr fauyr quyt;
Your pyllyd garleke hed
Cowde hocupy there no stede;
She callyd yow Syr Gy of Gaunt, 70
Nosyd lyke an olyfaunt,
A pykes or a twybyll;
Sche seyd how ye ded brydell,
Moche lyke a dromadary;
Thus with yow sche ded wary,
With moche mater more
That I kepe in store.
Your brethe ys stronge and quike;
Ye ar an eldyr steke;
Ye wot what I thynke; 80
At bothe endes ye stynke;
Gret daunger for the kynge,
Whan hys grace ys fastynge,
Hys presens to aproche:
Yt ys to your reproche.
Yt fallyth for no swyne
Nor sowtters to drynke wyne,
Nor seche a nody polle
A pryste for to controlle.
Lytyll wyt in your scrybys nolle 90
That scrybblyd your fonde scrolle,
Vpon hym for to take
Agennst me for to make,
Lyke a doctor dawpate,
A lauryate poyete for to rate.
Yower termys ar to grose,
To far from the porpose,
To contaminate
And to violate
The dygnyte lauryate. 100
Bolde bayarde, ye are to blynde,
And grow all oute of kynde,
To occupy so your mynde;
For reson can I non fynde
Nor good ryme in yower mater:
I wondyr that ye smatyr,
So for a knaue to clatyr;
Ye wolde be callyd a maker,
And make moche lyke Jake Rakar;
Ye ar a comly crakar, 110
Ye lernyd of sum py bakar.
Caste vp your curyows wrytyng,
And your dyrty endytyng,
And your spyghtfull despyghtyng,
For alle ys nat worthe a myteyng,
A makerell nor a wyteyng:
Had ye gonne with me to scole,
And occupyed no better your tole,
Ye xulde haue kowththyd me a fole.
But now, gawdy, gresy Garnesche, 120
Your face I wyse to varnyshe
So suerly yt xall nat tarnishe.
Thow a Sarsens hed ye bere,
Row and full of lowsy here,
As heuery man wele seethe,
Ful of grett knauys tethe,
In a felde of grene peson
Ys ryme yet owte of reson;
Your wyt ys so geson,
Ye rayle all out of seson. 130
Your[557] skyn scabbyd and scuruy,
Tawny, tannyd, and shuruy;
Now vpon thys hete
Rankely whan ye swete,
Men sey ye wyll wax lowsy,
Drunkyn, drowpy, drowsy.
Your sworde ye swere, I wene,
So tranchaunt and so kene,
Xall kyt both wyght and grene:
Your foly ys to grett 140
The kynges colours to threte.
Your brethe yt ys so felle
And so puauntely dothe smelle,
And so haynnously doth stynke,
That naythyr pump nor synke
Dothe sauyr halfe so souer
Ageynst a stormy shouer.
O ladis of bryght colour,
Of bewte that beryth the flower,
When Garnyche cummyth yow amonge 150
With hys brethe so stronge,
Withowte ye haue a confectioun
Agenst hys poysond infeccioun,
Els with hys stynkyng jawys
He wyl cause yow caste your crawes,
And make youer stomoke seke
Ovyr the perke to pryk.
Now, Garnyche, garde thy gummys;
My serpentins and my gunnys
Agenst ye now I bynde; 160
Thy selfe therfore defende.
Thou tode, thow scorpyone,
Thow bawdy babyone,
Thow bere, thow brystlyd bore,
Thou Moryshe mantycore,
Thou rammysche stynkyng gote,
Thou fowle chorlyshe parote,
Thou gresly gargone glaymy,
Thou swety slouen seymy,
Thou murrionn, thow mawment, 170
Thou fals stynkyng serpent,
Thou mokkyshe marmoset,
I wyll nat dy in they[558] det.
Tyburne thou me assynyd,
Where thou xulddst haue bene shrynyd;
The nexte halter ther xall be
I bequeth yt hole to thé:
Soche pelfry thou hast pachchyd,
And so thy selfe houyr wachyd
That ther thou xuldyst be rachchyd, 180
If thow war metely machchyd.
Ye may wele be bedawyd,
Ye ar a fole owtelauyd;
And for to telle the gronde,
Pay Stokys hys fyue pownd.
I say, Syr Dalyrag,
Ye bere yow bold and brag
With othyr menys charge:
Ye kyt your clothe to large:
Soche pollyng paiaunttis ye pley, 190
To poynt yow fresche and gay.
And he that scryblyd your scrolles,
I rekyn yow in my rowllys,
For ij dronken sowllys.
Rede and lerne ye may,
How olde proverbys say,
That byrd ys nat honest
That fylythe hys owne nest.
Yf he wyst what sum wotte,
The flesche bastyng of hys cote 200
Was sowyd with slendyr thre[de]:
God sende you wele good spede,
With _Dominus vobiscum_!
Good Latyn for Jake a thrum,
Tyll more matyr may cum.

By the kynges most noble commaundment.

[554] _My lyuyng to reprehende_] Added to MS. in a different hand.

[555] _slvfferd_] Might perhaps be read “slooferd.”

[556] A portion of MS. torn off here.

[557] _Your_] Added to MS. in a different hand.

[558] _they_] Compare v. 18 of the next poem.

DONUM LAUREATI DISTICHON CONTRA GOLIARDUM GARNISHE ET SCRIBAM EJUS.

_Tu, Garnishe, fatuus, fatuus tuus est mage scriba:_
_Qui sapuit puer, insanit vir, versus in hydram._

SKELTON LAUREATE DEFENDAR AGEINST LUSTY GARNYSHE WELL BESEEN CRYSTOFER CHALANGAR, ET CETERA.

Garnyshe, gargone, gastly, gryme,
I haue receyuyd your secunde ryme.
Thowthe ye kan skylle of large and longe,
Ye syng allway the kukkowe songe:
Ye rayle, ye ryme, with, Hay, dog, hay!
Your chorlyshe chauntyng ys all o lay.
Ye, syr, rayle all in deformite:
Ye haue nat red the properte
Of naturys workys, how they be
Myxte with sum incommodite, 10

[Sidenote: Observa prologum libri 2ⁱ in veteri Rhetorica Ciceronis. Incipit autem sc. g. Crotoniati[559] quondam cum florerent omnibus copiis, et cetera.]

As prouithe well, in hys Rethorikys olde,
Cicero with hys tong of golde.
That nature wrowght in yow and me,
Irreuocable ys hyr decre;
Waywardly wrowght she hath in thé,
Beholde thi selfe, and thou mayst se;
Thow xalte beholde no wher a warse,
They[560] myrrour may be the deuyllys ars.
Wyth, knaue, syr knaue, and knaue ageine!
To cal me knaue thou takyst gret payne: 20
The prowdyst knaue yet of vs tewyne
Within thy skyn he xall remayne;
The starkest knaue, and lest good kan,
Thou art callyd of euery man;
The corte, the contre, wylage, and towne,
Sayth from thy to vnto thi croune,[561]
Of all prowde knauys thow beryst the belle,
Lothsum as Lucifer lowest in helle.
On that syde, on thys syde thou dost gasy,
Thou thynkyst thy selfe Syr Pers de Brasy, 30
Thy caytyvys carkes cours and crasy;
Moche of thy maneres I can[562] blasy.
Of Lumbardy Gorge Hardyson,
Thow wolde haue scoryd hys habarion;
That jentyll Jorge the Januay,
Ye wolde haue trysyd hys trowle away:
Soche paiantes with your fryndes ye play,
With trechery ye them betray.
Garnyshe, ye gate of Gorge with gaudry
Crimsin velvet for your bawdry. 40
Ye haue a fantasy to Fanchyrche strete,
With Lumbardes lemmanns for to mete,
With, Bas me, buttyng, praty Cys!
Yower lothesum lypps loue well to kyse,
Slaueryng lyke a slymy snayle;
I wolde ye had kyst hyr on the tayle!
Also nat fare from Bowgy row,
Ye pressyd pertely to pluk a crow:
Ye lost your holde,[563] onbende your bow,
Ye wan nothyng there but a mow; 50
Ye wan nothyng there but a skorne;
Sche wolde nat of yt thow had sworne.
Sche seyd ye war coluryd with cole dust;
To daly with yow she had no lust.
Sche seyd your brethe stanke lyke a broke;
With, Gup, Syr Gy, ye gate a moke.
Sche sware with hyr ye xulde nat dele,
For ye war smery, lyke a sele,
And ye war herey, lyke a calfe;
Sche praiid yow walke, on Goddes halfe! 60
And thus there ye lost yower pray;
Get ye anothyr where ye may.
Dysparage ye myn auncetry?
Ye ar dysposyd for to ly:
I sey, thow felle and fowle flessh fly,
In thys debate I thé askry.
Thow claimist thé jentyll, thou art a curre;
Haroldis they know thy cote armur:
Thow thou be a jantyll man borne,
Yet jentylnes in thé ys thred bare worne; 70
Haroldes from honor may thé devors,
For harlottes hawnte thyn hatefull cors:
Ye bere out brothells lyke a bawde;
Ye get therby a slendyr laude
Betweyn the tappett and the walle,—
Fusty bawdyas! I sey nat alle.
Of harlottes to vse soche an harres,
Yt bredth mothys in clothe of Arres.
What eylythe thé, rebawde, on me to raue?
A kyng to me myn habyte gaue: 80
At Oxforth, the vniversyte,
Auaunsid I was to that degre;
By hole consent of theyr senate,
I was made poete lawreate.
To cal me lorell ye ar to lewde:
Lythe and lystyn, all bechrewde!
Of the Musys nyne, Calliope
Hath pointyd me to rayle on thé.
It semyth nat thy pyllyd pate
Agenst a poyet lawreat 90
To take vpon thé for to scryue:
It cumys thé better for to dryue
A dong cart or a tumrelle
Than with my poems for to melle.
The honor of Englond I lernyd to spelle,
In dygnyte roialle that doth excelle:
Note and marke wyl[564] thys parcele;
I yaue hym drynke of the sugryd welle
Of Eliconys waters crystallyne,
Aqueintyng hym with the Musys nyne. 100
Yt commyth thé wele me to remorde,
That creaunser was to thy sofre[yne] lorde:
It plesyth that noble prince roialle
Me as hys master for to calle
In hys lernyng primordialle.
Auaunt, rybawde,[565] thi tung reclame!
Me to beknaue thow art to blame;
Thy tong vntawte, with poyson infecte,
Withowte thou leue thou shalt be chekt,[566]
And takyn vp in such a frame, 110
That all the warlde wyll spye your shame.
Auaunt, auaunt, thow slogysh ...
And sey poetis no dys....
It ys for no bawdy knaue
The dignite lawreat for to haue.
Thow callyst me scallyd, thou callyst[567] me mad:
Thow thou be pyllyd, thow ar nat sade.
Thow ar frantyke and lakkyst wyt,
To rayle with me that thé can hyt.
Thowth it be now ful tyde with thé, 120
Yet ther may falle soche caswelte,
Er thow be ware, that in a throw
Thow mayst fale downe and ebbe full lowe:
Wherfore in welthe beware of woo,
For welthe wyll sone departe thé froo.
To know thy selfe yf thow lake grace,
Lerne or be lewde, I shrow thy face.
Thow seyst I callyd thé a pecok:
Thow liist, I callyd thé a wodcoke;
For thow hast a long snowte, 130
A semly nose and a stowte,
Prickyd lyke an vnicorne:
I wold sum manys bake ink horne
Wher[568] thi nose spectacle case;
Yt wold garnyche wyll[569] thy face.
Thow demyst my raylyng ouyrthwarthe;
I rayle to thé soche as thow art.
If thow war aquentyd with alle
The famous poettes saturicall,
As Percius and Iuuynall, 140
Horace and noble Marciall,
If they wer lyueyng thys day,
Of thé wote I what they wolde say;
They wolde thé wryght, all with one steuyn,
The follest slouen ondyr heuen,
Prowde, peuiche, lyddyr, and lewde,
Malapert, medyllar, nothyng well thewde,
Besy, braynles, to bralle and brage,
Wytles, wayward, Syr Wryg wrag,
Dysdaynous, dowble, ful of dyseyte, 150
Liing, spying by suttelte and slyght,
Fleriing, flatyryng, fals, and fykkelle,
Scornefull and mokkyng ouer to mykkylle.
My tyme, I trow, I xulde but lese
To wryght to thé of tragydese,
It ys nat mete for soche a knaue;
But now my proces for to saue,
I have red, and rede I xall,
Inordynate pride wyll haue a falle.
Presumptuous pride ys all thyn hope: 160
God garde thé, Garnyche, from the rope!
Stop a tyd, and be welle ware
Ye be nat cawte in an hempen snare.
Harkyn herto, ye Haruy Haftar,[570]
Pride gothe before and schame commyth after.
Thow wrythtyst I xulde let thé go pley:
Go pley thé, Garnyshe, garnysshyd gay;
I care nat what thow wryght or sey;
I cannat let thé the knaue to play,
To dauns the hay or rune the ray: 170
Thy fonde face can me nat fray.
Take thys for that, bere thys in mynde,
Of thy lewdenes more ys behynde;
A reme of papyr wyll nat holde
Of thi lewdenes that may be tolde.
My study myght be better spynt;
But for to serue the kynges entent,
Hys noble pleasure and commandenennt,
Scrybbyl thow, scrybyll thow, rayle or wryght,
Wryght what thow wylte, I xall thé aquyte. 180

By the kyngys most noble commandemennt.

[559] _Crotoniati_] Should be “Crotoniatæ.” (Vide _De Invent. Rhet._)

[560] _They_] Compare v. 173 of the preceding poem.

[561] _Sayth from, &c._] This line added to MS. in (perhaps) a different hand.

[562] _can_] MS. seems to read “cam.”

[563] _holde_] MS. “bolde.”

[564] _wyl_] Compare v. 135.

[565] _rybawde_] MS. seems to have “rylowde.”

[566] _Withowte thou leue, &c._] In MS. the latter part of this line, and the concluding portions of the next two lines, are so injured by stains that I can only guess at the words. The endings of the third and fourth lines after this are illegible.

[567] _callyst_] MS. “callydst.”

[568] _Wher_] Seems to be the reading of MS.

[569] _wyll_] Compare v. 97.

[570] _Haftar_] MS. “hastar;” see notes.

SKELTON LAVREATE, ORATORIS REGIS TERTIUS,[571] AGAINST VENEMOUS TONGUES[572] ENPOYSONED WITH SCLAUNDER AND FALSE DETRACTIONS, &c.

_Quid detur tibi, aut quid apponatur tibi ad linguam dolosam?_ Psalm. c. xlij.

_Deus destruet te in finem; evellet te, et emigrabit te de tabernaculo tuo, et radicem tuam de terra viventium._ Psal. lxvii.

Al maters wel pondred and wel to be regarded,
How shuld a fals lying tung then be rewarded?
Such tunges shuld be torne out by the harde rootes,
Hoyning like hogges that groynis and wrotes.

_Dilexisti omnia verba præcipitationis, lingua dolosa._ Ubi s. _&c._

For, as I haue rede in volumes olde,
A fals lying tunge is harde to withholde;
A sclaunderous tunge, a tunge of a skolde,
Worketh more mischiefe than can be tolde;
That, if I wist not to be controlde,
Yet somwhat to say I dare well be bolde,
How some delite for to lye thycke and threfolde.

_Ad sannam hominem redigit comice[573] et graphice._

For ye said, that he said, that I said, wote ye what?
I made, he said, a windmil of an olde mat:
If there be none other mater but that,
Than ye may commaunde me to gentil Cok wat.

_Hic notat purpuraria arte intextas literas Romanas in amictibus post ambulonum[574] ante et retro._

For before on your brest, and behind on your back,
In Romaine letters I neuer founde lack:
In your crosse rowe nor Christ crosse you spede,
Your Pater noster, your Aue, nor your Crede.
Who soeuer that tale vnto you tolde,
He saith vntruly, to say that I would
Controlle the cognisaunce of noble men
Either by language or with my pen.

_Pædagogium meum de sublimiori Minerva constat esse: ergo, &c._

My scole is more solem and somwhat more haute
Than to be founde in any such faute.

_Pædagogium meum male sanos maledicos sibilis complosisque manibus[575] explodit, &c._

My scoles are not for vnthriftes vntaught,
For frantick faitours half mad and half straught;
But my learning is of an other degree
To taunt theim like liddrous, lewde as thei bee.

_Laxent ergo antennam elationis suæ inflatam vento vanitatis._ li. ille, _&c._

For though some be lidder, and list for to rayle,
Yet to lie vpon me they can not preuayle:
Then let them vale a bonet of their proud sayle,
And of their taunting toies rest with il hayle.

_Nobilitati ignobilis cedat vilitas, &c._

There is no noble man wil iudge in me
Any such foly to rest or to be:
I care muche the lesse what euer they say,
For tunges vntayde be renning astray;
But yet I may say safely, so many wel lettred
Embraudred, enlasid together, and fettred,
And so little learning, so lewdly alowed,
What fault find ye herein but may be auowed?
But ye are so full of vertibilite,
And of frenetyke folabilite, 10
And of melancoly mutabilite,
That ye would coarte and enforce me
Nothing to write, but hay the gy of thre,
And I to suffre you lewdly to ly
Of me with your language full of vilany!

_Sicut novacula[576] acuta fecisti dolum._ Ubi s.

Malicious tunges, though they haue no bones,
Are sharper then swordes, sturdier then stones.

_Lege Philostratum de vita Tyanæi Apollonii._

Sharper then raysors that shaue and cut throtes,
More stinging then scorpions that stang Pharaotis.

_Venenum aspidum sub labiis eorum._ Ps.

More venemous and much more virulent
Then any poysoned tode or any serpent.

_Quid peregrinis egemus exemplis? ad domestica recurramus, &c._ li. ille.

Such tunges vnhappy hath made great diuision
In realmes, in cities, by suche fals abusion;
Of fals fickil tunges suche cloked collusion
Hath brought nobil princes to extreme confusion.

_Quicquid loquantur, ut effœminantur, ita effantur, &c._

Somtime women were put in great blame,
Men said they could not their tunges atame;
But men take vpon theim nowe all the shame,
With skolding and sklaundering make their tungs lame.

_Novarum rerum cupidissimi, captatores, delatores, adulatores, invigilatores, deliratores, &c. id genus._ li. ille.

For men be now tratlers and tellers of tales;
What tidings at Totnam,[577] what newis in Wales,
What shippis are sailing to Scalis Mails?
And all is not worth a couple of nut shalis:
But lering and lurking here and there like spies;
The deuil tere their tunges and pike out their ies!
Then ren they with lesinges and blow them about,
With, He wrate suche a bil withouten dout;
With, I can tel you what such a man said;
And you knew all, ye would be ill apayd. 10

_De more vulpino, gannientes ad aurem, fictas fabellas fabricant._ li. ille.

_Inauspicatum, male ominatum, infortunatum se fateatur habuisse horoscopum, quicunque maledixerit vati Pierio, S[keltonidi] L[aureato], &c._

But if that I knewe what his name hight,
For clatering of me I would him sone quight;
For his false lying, of that I spake neuer,
I could make him shortly repent him for euer:
Although he made it neuer so tough,
He might be sure to haue shame ynough.

_Cerberus horrendo barathri latrando sub antro_
_Te rodatque voret, lingua dolosa, precor._

A fals double tunge is more fiers and fell
Then Cerberus the cur couching in the kenel of hel;
Wherof hereafter I thinke for to write,
Of fals double tunges in the dispite.

_Recipit se scripturum opus sanctum,[578] laudabile, acceptabile, memorabileque, et nimis honorificandum._

_Disperdat Dominus universa labia dolosa et linguam magniloquam!_

[571] _Tertius_] A misprint: qy. “Versus?”

[572] _Against venemous tongues, &c._] From Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s _Workes_, 1568.

[573] _comice_] Ed. “comite.”

[574] _post ambulonum_] The Rev. J. Mitford would read “_ambulonum post_.”

[575] _manibus_] Ed. “mantibus.”

[576] _novacula_] Ed. “nouocla.”

[577] _Totnam_] Ed. “Totmā.”

[578] _sanctum_] Ed. “sancte.”

Ye may here now,[579] in this ryme,
How euery thing must haue a tyme.

Tyme is a thing that no man may resyst;
Tyme is trancytory and irreuocable;[580]
Who sayeth the contrary, tyme passeth as hym lyst;
Tyme must be taken in season couenable;
Take tyme when tyme is, for tyme is ay mutable;
All thynge hath tyme, who can for it prouyde;
Byde for tyme who wyll, for tyme wyll no man byde.[581]

Tyme to be sad, and tyme to play and sporte; 10
Tyme to take rest by way of recreacion;[582]
Tyme to study, and tyme to use comfort;
Tyme of pleasure, and tyme of consolation:
Thus tyme hath his tyme of diuers maner facion:
Tyme for to eate and drynke for thy repast;
Tyme to be lyberall, and tyme to make no wast;

Tyme to trauell, and tyme for to rest;
Tyme for to speake, and tyme to[583] holde thy pease;
Tyme would be vsed when tyme is best;
Tyme to begyn, and tyme for to cease; 20
And when tyme is, [to] put thyselfe in prease,
And when tyme is, to holde thyselfe abacke;
For tyme well spent can neuer haue lacke.

The rotys take theyr sap in tyme of vere;
In tyme of somer flowres fresh and grene;
In tyme of haruest men their corne shere;
In tyme of wynter the north wynde waxeth kene,
So bytterly bytynge the flowres be not sene;
The kalendis of Janus, with his frostes hore,
That tyme is when people must lyue vpon the store. 30

Quod Skelton, Laureat.

[579] _Ye may here, &c._] This and the next three poems are from the ed. by Kynge and Marche of _Certaine bokes compyled by mayster Skelton_, n. d., collated with the same work, ed. Day, n. d., and ed. Lant, and with Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s _Workes_, 1568. I may here notice that in those eds. the present piece is preceded by a copy of verses, “All nobyll men of this take hede,” &c., which will be given afterwards, before _Why come ye not to Courte?_ where it is repeated in all the eds.

[580] _irreuocable_] So Marshe’s ed. Other eds. “irrouocable.”

[581] _byde_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “abide.”

[582] _recreacion_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “creation.”

[583] _to_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “for _to_.”

PRAYER TO THE FATHER OF HEAUEN.

O radiant Luminary of lyght intermynable,
Celestial Father, potenciall God of myght,
Of heauen and earth, O Lord incomperable,
Of all perfections the essencial most perfyght!
O Maker of mankynde, that formyd day and nyghte,
Whose power imperyal comprehendeth euery place!
Myne hert, my mynde, my thought, my hole delyght
Is, after this lyfe, to see thy glorious face:

Whose magnifycence is incomprehensybyll,
All argumentes of reason which far doth excede, 10
Whose Deite dowtles is indiuysybyll,
From whom all goodnes and vertue doth procede;
Of thy support all creatures haue nede:
Assyst me, good Lord, and graunte me of thy grace,
To lyue to thy pleasure in word, thoughte, and dede,
And, after this lyfe, to see thy glorious face.

TO THE SECONDE PARSON.

O benygne Jesu, my souerayne Lord and Kynge,
The only Sonne of God by filiacion,
The Seconde Parson withouten[584] beginnynge,
Both God and man our fayth maketh playne relacion,
Mary the[585] mother, by way of incarnacion,
Whose glorious passion our soules doth reuyue!
Agayne all bodely and goostely trybulacion
Defende me with thy piteous woundis fyue.
O pereles Prynce, payned[586] to the deth,
Rufully rent, thy body wan and blo, 10
For my redempcion gaue vp thy vytall breth,
Was neuer sorow lyke to thy dedly wo!
Graunte me, out of this world when I shall go,
Thyne endles mercy for my preseruatyue;
Agaynst the world, the flesh, the deuyl also,
Defende me wyth thy pyteous woundis fyue.

[584] _withouten_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “without.”

[585] _the_] Qy. “thy?”

TO THE HOLY GOOSTE.

O firy feruence,[587] inflamed wyth all grace,
Enkyndelyng hertes with brandis charitable,
The endles reward of pleasure and solace,
To the Father and the Son thou art communicable
_In unitate_ which is inseperable!
O water of lyfe, O well of consolacion!
Agaynst all suggestions dedly and dampnable
Rescu me, good Lorde, by your preseruacion:

To whome is appropryed the Holy Ghost by name,
The Thyrde Parson, one God in Trinite, 10
Of perfyt loue thou art the ghostly flame:
O myrrour of mekenes, pease, and tranquylyte,
My confort, my counsell, my parfyt charyte!
O water of lyfe, O well of consolacion!
Agaynst all stormys of harde aduersyte
Rescu me, good Lord, by thy preseruacion. Amen.

Quod Skelton, Laureat.

[586] _payned_] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “paynted.”

[587] _feruence_] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “seruence” and “sentence.”

Woffully araid,[588]
My blode, man,
For thé ran,
It may not be naid;
My body bloo and wan,
Woffully araid.

Beholde me, I pray thé, with all thi hole reson,
And be not so hard hartid, and ffor this encheson,
Sith I for thi sowle sake was slayne in good seson,
Begylde and betraide by Judas fals treson; 10
Vnkyndly entretid,
With sharpe corde sore fretid,
The Jewis me thretid,
They mowid, they grynned, they scornyd me,
Condempnyd[589] to deth, as thou maist se,
Woffully araid.

Thus nakyd am I nailid, O man, for thy sake!
I loue thé, then loue me; why slepist thou? awake!
Remembir my tendir hart rote for thé brake,
With panys my vaynys constreyn[e]d to crake; 20
Thus toggid to and fro,
Thus wrappid all in woo,
Whereas neuer man was so,[590]
Entretid thus in most cruell wyse,
Was like a lombe offerd in sacrifice,
Woffully araid.

Off sharpe thorne I haue worne a crowne on my hede,
So paynyd, so straynyd, so rufull,[591] so red;
Thus bobbid, thus robbid,[592] thus for thy loue ded,
Onfaynyd[593] not deynyd[594] my blod for to shed; 30
My fete and handes sore
The[595] sturdy nailis bore;
What myȝt I suffir more
Than I haue don, O man, for thé?
Cum when thou list, wellcum to me,
Woffully araide.[596]

Off record thy good Lord y haue beyn and schal bee;
Y am thyn, thou artt myne, my brother y call thee;
Thé love I enterly; see whatt ys befall me!
Sore bettyng, sore thretyng, too mak thee, man, all fre: 40
Why art thou wnkynde?
Why hast nott mee yn mynde?
Cum ȝytt, and thou schalt fynde
Myne endlys mercy and grace;
See how a spere my hert dyd race,
Woyfully arayd.

Deyr brother, noo other thyng y off thee desyre
Butt gyve me thyne hert fre to rewarde myn hyre:
Y wrouȝt thé, I bowgȝt thé frome eternal fyre;
Y pray thé aray thé tooward my hyȝt empyre, 50
Above[597] the oryent,
Wheroff y am regent,
Lord God omnypotent,
Wyth me too reyn yn endlys welthe;
Remember, man, thy sawlys helthe.

Woofully arayd,
My blode, man,
For thé rane,
Hytt may nott be nayd;
My body blow and wane, 60
Woyfully arayde.

Explicit qd. Skelton.

[588] _Woffully araid_] From the Fairfax MS. (which once belonged to Ralph Thoresby, and now forms part of the Additional MSS., 5465, in the British Museum), where it occurs twice,—(fol. 76 and, less perfectly, fol. 86); collated with a copy written in a very old hand on the fly-leaves of _Boetius de Discip. Schol. cum notabili commento, Daventrie_, 1496, 4to. (in the collection of the late Mr. Heber), which has supplied several stanzas not in the Fairfax MS. It was printed from the latter, not very correctly, by Sir John Hawkins, _Hist. of Music_, ii. 89. I have followed the metrical arrangement of the MS. in the _Boetius_.

[589] _condempnyd_] So sec. copy in Fairfax MS., and MS. in the _Boetius_. First copy in F. MS. “condemp.”

[590] _Whereas neuer man was so_] MS. in the _Boetius_, “Ah _was never man soo_.”

[591] _rufull_] MS. in the _Boetius_, “rowfully.”

[592] _bobbid ... robbid_] MS. in the _Boetius_, “bowde ... rowyd.”

[593] _Onfaynyd_] MS. in the _Boetius_, “Unfraynyd.”

[594] _deynyd_] MS. in the _Boetius_, “drynyde.”

[595] _The_] MS. in the _Boetius_, “Thes.”

[596] _Woffully araide_] Here the Fairfax MS. concludes: what follows is given from the MS. in the _Boetius_.

[597] _Above_] MS. “I love.”

Now synge we,[598] as we were wont,
_Vexilla regis prodeunt_.

The kinges baner on felde is [s]playd,
The crosses mistry can not be nayd,
To whom our Sauyour was betrayd,
And for our sake;
Thus sayth he,
I suffre for thé,
My deth I take.
Now synge we, &c.

Beholde my shankes, behold my knees, 10
Beholde my hed, armes, and thees,
Beholde of me nothyng thou sees
But sorowe and pyne;
Thus was I spylt,
Man, for thy gylte,
And not for myne.
Now synge we, &c.

Behold my body, how Jewes it donge
With knots of whipcord and scourges strong;
As stremes of a well the blode out sprong
On euery syde; 20
The knottes were knyt,
Ryght well made with wyt,
They made woundes wyde.
Now synge we, &c.

Man, thou shalt now vnderstand,
Of my head, bothe fote and hand,
Are four c. and fyue thousand
Woundes and sixty;
Fifty and vii.
Were tolde full euen
Vpon my body. 30
Now synge we, &c.

Syth I for loue bought thé so dere,
As thou may se thy self here,
I pray thé with a ryght good chere
Loue me agayne,
That it lykes me
To suffre for thé
Now all this payne.
Now synge we, &c.

Man, vnderstand now thou shall,
In sted of drynke they gaue me gall,
And eysell mengled therwithall, 40
The Jewes fell;
These paynes on me
I suffred for thé
To bryng thé fro hell.
Now synge we, &c.

Now for thy lyfe thou hast mysled,
Mercy to aske be thou not adred;
The lest drop of blode that I for thé bled
Myght clense thé soone
Of all the syn
The worlde within, 50
If thou haddest doone.
Now synge we, &c.

I was more wrother with Judas,
For he wold no mercy aske,
Than I was for his trespas
Whan he me solde;
I was euer redy
To graunt hym mercy,
But he none wolde.
Now synge we, &c.

Lo, how I hold my armes abrode,
Thé to receyue redy isprode![599] 60
For the great loue that I to thé had
Well may thou knowe,
Some loue agayne
I wolde full fayne
Thou woldest to me shewe.
Now synge we, &c.

For loue I aske nothyng of thé
But stand fast in faythe, and syn thou fle,
And payne to lyue in honeste
Bothe nyght and day;
And thou shalt have blys 70
That neuer shall mys
Withouten nay.
Now synge we, &c.

Now, Jesu, for thy great goodnes,
That for man suffred great hardnes,
Saue vs fro the deuyls cruelnes,
And to blys vs send,
And graunt vs grace
To se thy face
Withouten ende.
Now synge we, &c.

[598] _Now synge we, &c._] From _Bibliographical Miscellanies_ (edited by the Rev. Dr. Bliss), 1813, 4to, p. 48, where it is given from an imperfect volume (or fragments of volumes) of black-letter _Christmas Carolles_, partly (but probably not wholly) printed by Kele.

[599] _isprode_] _Bib. Mis._ “I sprede.”

[“CCCCXXXII.

“_Codex membranaceus in 4to, seculo xiv scriptus, figuris illuminatis, sed injuria temporis pene deletis ornatus, in quo continetur_,

I. Polichronitudo basileos _sive_ historia belli quod Ricardus I. gessit contra Sarracenos, _Gallice_.

_Hoc opus Skeltono ascribitur a Cl. Stanleio; primo autem intuitu satis liquet codicem ipsum longe ante tempus quo claruit Skeltonus fuisse scriptum, ab eoque regi dono missum, ut testantur sequentes versus diverso et recenti caractere primæ paginæ inscripti_:”[600]]

_I, liber, et propera, regem tu pronus adora;_
_Me sibi commendes humilem Skeltonida vatem:_
_Ante suam majestatem, (per cætera passim,)_
_Inclyta bella refer, gessit quæ maximus heros_
_Anglorum, primus nostra de gente Ricardus,_
_Hector ut intrepidus, contra validissima castra_
_Gentis Agarenæ; memora quos ille labores,_
_Quos tulit angores, qualesque recepit honores._
_Sed_
_Chronica Francorum, validis inimica Britannis,_
_Sæpe solent celebres Britonum compescere laudes._ 10

[600] Nasmith’s _Catal. Libr. Manuscript, quos Coll. Corporis Christi et B. Mariæ Virginis in Acad. Cantabrig. legavit Reverendiss. in Christo Pater Matthæus Parker, Archiepisc. Cantuar._ p. 400. 1777, 4to.

THE MANER OF THE WORLD NOW A DAYES.[601]

So many poynted caps
Lased with double flaps,
And so gay felted hats,
Sawe I never:
So many good lessons,
So many good sermons,
And so few devocions,
Sawe I never.

So many gardes worne,
Jagged and al to-torne, 10
And so many falsely forsworne,
Sawe I never:
So few good polycies
In townes and cytyes
For kepinge of blinde hostryes
Sawe I never.

So many good warkes,
So few wel lerned clarkes,
And so few that goodnes markes,
Sawe I never: 20
Such pranked cotes and sleves,
So few yonge men that preves,
And such encrease of theves,
Sawe I never.

So many garded hose,
Such cornede shoes,
And so many envious foes,
Sawe I never:
So many questes sytte
With men of smale wit, 30
And so many falsely quitte,
Sawe I never.

So many gay swordes,
So many altered wordes,
And so few covered bordes,
Sawe I never:
So many empti purses,
So few good horses,
And so many curses,
Sawe I never. 40

Such bosters and braggers,
So newe fashyoned daggers,
And so many beggers,
Sawe I never:
So many propre knyves,
So well apparrelled wyves
And so yll of theyr lyves,
Saw I never.

So many cockolde makers,
So many crakers, 50
And so many peace breakers,
Saw I never:
So much vayne clothing
With cultyng and jagging,
And so much bragginge,
Saw I never.

So many newes and knackes,
So many naughty packes,
And so many that mony lackes,
Saw I never: 60
So many maidens with child
And wylfully begylde,
And so many places untilde,
Sawe I never.

So many women blamed
And rightuously defaimed,
And so lytle ashamed,
Sawe I never:
Widowes so sone wed
After their husbandes be deade, 70
Having such hast to bed,
Sawe I never.

So much strivinge
For goodes and for wivinge,
And so lytle thryvynge,
Sawe I never:
So many capacities,
Offices and pluralites,
And chaunging of dignities,
Sawe I never. 80

So many lawes to use
The truth to refuse,
Suche falshead to excuse,
Sawe I never:
Executers havinge the ware,
Taking so littel care
Howe the soule doth fare,
Sawe I never.

Amonge them that are riche
No frendshyp is to kepe tuche, 90
And such fayre glosing speche
Sawe I never:
So many pore
In every bordoure,
And so small soccoure,
Saw I never.

So proude and so gaye,
So riche in araye,
And so skant of money,
Saw I never: 100
So many bowyers,
So many fletchers,
And so few good archers,
Saw I never.

So many chepers,
So fewe biers,
And so many borowers,
Sawe I never:
So many alle sellers
In baudy holes and sellers, 110
Of yonge folkes yll counsellers,
Sawe I never.

So many pinkers,
So many thinkers,
And so many good ale drinkers,
Sawe I never:
So many wronges,
So few mery songes,
And so many yll tonges,
Sawe I never. 120

So many a vacabounde
Through al this londe,
And so many in pryson bonde,
I sawe never:
So many citacions,
So fewe oblacions,
And so many newe facions,
Sawe I never.

So many fleyng tales,
Pickers of purses and males, 130
And so many sales,
Saw I never:
So much preachinge,
Speaking fayre and teaching,
And so ill belevinge,
Saw I never.

So much wrath and envy,
Covetous and glottony,
And so litle charitie,
Sawe I never: 140
So many carders,
Revelers and dicers,
And so many yl ticers,
Sawe I never.

So many lollers,
So few true tollers,
So many baudes and pollers,
Sawe I never:
Such treachery,
Simony and usury, 150
Poverty and lechery,
Saw I never.

So many avayles,
So many geales,
And so many fals baylies,[602]
Sawe I never:
By fals and subtyll wayes
All England decayes,
For more envy and lyers[603]
Sawe I never. 160

So new facioned jackes
With brode flappes in the neckes,
And so gay new partlettes,
Sawe I never:
So many slutteshe cookes,
So new facioned tucking hookes,
And so few biers of bookes,
Saw I never.

Sometime we song of myrth and play,
But now our joy is gone away, 170
For so many fal in decay
Sawe I never:
Whither is the welth of England gon?
The spiritual saith they have none,
And so many wrongfully undone
Saw I never.

It is great pitie that every day
So many brybors go by the way,
And so many extorcioners in eche cuntrey
Sawe I never. 180
To thé, Lord, I make my mone,
For thou maist healpe us everichone:
Alas, the people is so wo begone,
Worse was it never!

Amendment
Were convenient,
But it may not be;
We have exiled veritie.
God is neither dead nor sicke;
He may amend al yet, 190
And trowe ye so in dede,
As ye beleve ye shal have mede.
After better I hope ever,
For worse was it never.

Finis. J. S.

[601] _The Maner of the World now a dayes_] Was _Imprinted at London in Flete Strete at the signe of the Rose Garland by W. Copland_, n. d. This piece (of the original impression of which I have not been able to procure a sight) is now given from _Old Ballads_, 1840, edited by J. P. Collier, Esq., for the Percy Society.

[602] _baylies_] Qy. “bayles?”

[603] _lyers_] Qy. “lyes?”

HERE AFTER FOLOWETH THE BOKE ENTYTULED WARE THE HAUKE,[604] PER SKELTON, LAUREAT.

PROLOGUS SKELTONIDIS LAUREATI SUPER WARE THE HAWKE.

This worke deuysed is
For such as do amys;
And specyally to controule
Such as haue cure of soule,
That be so farre abused,
They cannot be excused
By reason nor by law;
But that they play the daw,
To hawke, or els to hunt
From the aulter[605] to the funte, 10
With cry vnreuerent,
Before the sacrament,
Within the holy church bowndis,
That of our faith the grounde is.
That pryest that hawkys so,
All grace is farre him fro;
He semeth a sysmatyke,
Or els an heretyke,
For fayth in him is faynte.
Therefore to make complaynte[606] 20
Of such mysaduysed
Parsons and dysgysed,
This boke we haue deuysed,
Compendiously comprysed,
No good priest to offende,
But suche dawes to amende,
In hope that no man shall
Be[607] myscontent withall.
I shall you make relacion,
By waye of apostrofacion, 30
Vnder supportacion
Of youre pacyent tolleracion,
How I, Skelton Laureat,
Deuysed and also wrate
Vpon a lewde curate,
A parson benyfyced,
But nothing well aduysed:
He shall be as now nameles,
But he shall not be blameles,
Nor he shal not be shameles; 40
For sure he wrought amys,
To hawke in my church of Dis.
This fonde frantyke fauconer,[608]
With his polutid pawtenar,[609]
As priest vnreuerent,
Streyght to the sacrament
He made his hawke to fly,
With hogeous showte and cry.
The hye auter[610] he strypt naked;
There on he stode, and craked; 50
He shoke downe all the clothis,
And sware horrible othes
Before the face of God,
By Moyses and Arons rod,
Or that he thens yede,
His hawke shoulde pray and fede
Vpon a pigeons maw.
The bloude ran downe raw
Vpon the auter stone;
The hawke tyrid on a bonne; 60
And in the holy place
She mutid there a chase
Vpon my corporas face.
Such _sacrificium laudis_
He made with suche gambawdis.

OBSERVATE.

His seconde hawke wexid gery,
And was with flying wery;
She had flowin so oft,
That on the rode loft
She perkyd her to rest. 70
The fauconer then was prest[611],
Came runnyng with a dow,
And cryed, Stow, stow, stow!
But she would not bow.
He then, to be sure,
Callid her with a lure.
Her mete[612] was very crude,
She had not wel endude;
She was not clene ensaymed,
She was not well reclaymed: 80
But the fawconer vnfayned
Was much more febler brayned.
The hawke had no lyst
To come to hys fyst;
She loked as she had the frounce;[613]
With that he gaue her a bounce
Full vpon the gorge:
I wyll not fayne nor forge;
The hawke with that clap
Fell downe with euyll hap. 90
The church dores were sparred,
Fast boltyd and barryd,
Yet wyth a prety gyn
I fortuned to come in,
This rebell to beholde,
Wherof I hym[614] controlde;
But he sayde that he woulde,
Agaynst my mynde and wyll,
In my churche hawke styll.

CONSIDERATE.

On Sainct John decollacion 100
He hawked on this facion,
_Tempore vesperarum,_
_Sed non secundum Sarum_,
But lyke a Marche harum,
His braynes were so _parum_.
He sayde he would not let
His houndis for to fet,
To hunte there by lyberte
In the dyspyte of me,
And to halow there the fox: 110
Downe went my offerynge box,
Boke, bell, and candyll,
All that he myght handyll;
Cros, staffe, lectryne, and banner,
Fell downe on this manner.

DELIBERATE.

With, troll, cytrace, and trouy,
They ranged, hankin bouy,
My churche all aboute.
This fawconer then[615] gan showte,
These be my gospellers, 120
These be my pystillers,
These be my querysters
To helpe me to synge,
My hawkes to mattens rynge.
In this priestly gydynge
His hawke then flew vppon
The rode with Mary and John.
Delt he not lyke a fon?
Delt he not lyke a daw?
Or els is this Goddes law, 130
Decrees or decretals,
Or holy sinodals,
Or els prouincials,
Thus within the wals
Of holy church to deale,
Thus to rynge a peale
With his hawkis bels?
Dowtles such losels
Make the churche to be
In smale auctoryte: 140
A curate in speciall
To snappar and to fall
Into this open cryme;
To loke on this were tyme.

VIGILATE.

But who so that lokys
In the officiallis bokis,
Ther he[616] may se and reed
That this is matter indeed.
How be it, mayden Meed
Made theym to be agreed, 150
And so the Scrybe was feed,
And the Pharasay
Than durst nothing say,
But let the matter slyp,
And made truth to trip;
And of the spiritual law
They made but a gewgaw,
And toke it out in drynke,
And this the cause doth shrynke:
The church is thus abused, 160
Reproched and pollutyd;
Correccion hath no[617] place,
And all for lacke of grace.

DEPLORATE.

Loke now in _Exodi_,
And _de arca Domini_,
With _Regum_ by and by;
The Bybyll wyll not ly;
How the Temple was kept,
How the Temple was swept,
Where _sanguis taurorum,_ 170
_Aut sanguis vitulorum_,
Was offryd within the wallis,
After ceremoniallis;
When it was poluted,
Sentence was executed,
By wey of expiacion,
For reconciliacion.[618]

DIVINITATE.[619]

Then muche more, by the rode,
Where Christis precious blode
Dayly offred is, 180
To be poluted this;
And that he wyshed withall
That the dowues donge downe might fal
Into my chalis at mas,
When consecrated was
The blessed sacrament:
O prieest vnreuerent!
He sayde that he woulde hunt
From the aulter to the funt.

REFORMATE.

Of no tyrande I rede, 190
That so farre dyd excede;
Neyther yet Dioclesyan,
Nor yet Domisian,
Nor yet[620] croked Cacus,
Nor yet dronken Bacus;[621]
Nother Olibrius,
Nor Dionisyus;
Nother Phalary,
Rehersed in Valery;
Nor Sardanapall, 200
Vnhappiest of all;
Nor Nero the worst,
Nor Clawdius the curst;
Nor yet Egeas,
Nor yet Syr Pherumbras;
Nother Zorobabell,
Nor cruel Jesabell;
Nor yet Tarquinius,
Whom Tytus Liuius
In wrytynge doth enroll; 210
I haue red them poll by poll;
The story of Arystobell,
And of Constantinopell,[622]
Whiche citye miscreantys wan,
And slew many a Christen man;
Yet the Sowden, nor the Turke,
Wrought neuer suche a worke,
For to let theyr hawkes fly
In the Church of Saint Sophy;
With much matter more, 220
That I kepe in store.

PENSITATE.

Then in a tabull playne
I wroute a verse or twayne,
Whereat he made dysdayne:
The pekysh parsons brayne
Cowde not rech nor attayne
What the sentence ment;
He sayde, for a crokid intent
The wordes were paruerted:
And this he ouerthwarted. 230
Of the which proces
Ye may know more expres,
If it please you to loke
In the resydew of this boke.

_Here after followeth the tabull._

Loke on this tabull,
Whether thou art abull
To rede or to spell
What these verses tell.

_Sicculo lutueris est colo būraarā[623]_
_Nixphedras uisarum caniuter tuntantes[624]_
_Raterplas Natābrian[625] umsudus itnugenus._
_18. 10. 2. 11. 19. 4. 13. 3. 3. 1. tēualet.[626]_
_Chartula stet, precor, hæc nullo[627] temeranda petulco:_
_Hos rapiet numeros non homo, sed mala bos._
_Ex parte rem chartæ adverte aperte, pone Musam Arethusam hanc._

Whereto should I rehers
The sentence of my vers? 240
In them be no scholys
For braynsycke frantycke folys:
_Construas hoc_,
_Domine_ Dawcocke!
Ware the hawke!
Maister _sophista_,
Ye _simplex syllogista_,
Ye[628] deuelysh _dogmatista_,
Your hawke on your fista,
To hawke when you[629] lista 250
_In ecclesia ista_,
_Domine concupisti_,[630]
With thy hawke on thy fisty?
_Nunquid sic dixisti?_
_Nunquid sic fecisti?_
_Sed ubi hoc legisti_
_Aut unde hoc_,
Doctor Dawcocke?
Ware the hawke!
Doctor _Dialetica_,[631] 260
Where fynde you in _Hypothetica_,
Or in _Categoria_,
_Latina sive Dorica_,
To vse your hawkys _forica_
_In propitiatorio_,
_Tanquam diversorio?_
_Unde hoc_,
_Domine_ Dawcocke?
Ware the hawke!
Saye to me, Jacke Harys, 270
_Quare aucuparis_
_Ad sacramentum altaris?_
For no reuerens[632] thou sparys
To shake my pygeons federis
_Super arcam fœderis_:
_Unde hoc_,
Doctor Dawcocke?
Ware the hawke!
Sir _Dominus vobiscum_,
_Per[633] aucupium_ 280
Ye made your hawke to cum
_Desuper candelabrum_
_Christi crucifixi_
To fede vpon your fisty:
_Dic, inimice crucis Christi_,
_Ubi didicisti_
_Facere hoc_,
_Domine_ Dawcocke?
Ware the hawke!
Apostata Julianus, 290
Nor yet Nestorianus,
Thou shalt no[634] where rede
That they dyd suche a dede,
To let theyr hawkys fly
_Ad ostium tabernaculi_,
_In quo est corpus Domini_:
_Cave hoc_,
Doctor Dawcocke!
Ware the hawke!
This dowtles ye rauyd, 300
Dys church ye thus deprauyd;
Wherfore, as I be sauyd,
Ye are therefore beknauyd:
_Quare? quia Evangelia_,
_Concha et conchylia_,
_Accipiter[635] et sonalia_,
_Et bruta animalia_,[636]
_Cætera quoque talia_
_Tibi sunt æqualia_:
_Unde hoc_, 310
_Domine_ Dawcocke?
Ware the hawke!
_Et relis et ralis_,
_Et reliqualis_,
From Granado to Galis,
From Wynchelsee to Walys,[637]
_Non est_ braynsycke _talis_,
_Nec minus rationalis_,
_Nec magis bestialis_,[638]
That synggys with a chalys: 320
_Construas hoc_,
Doctor Dawcocke!
Ware the hawke!
Masyd, wytles, smery smyth,
Hampar with your hammer vpon thy styth,
And make hereof a syckyll or a saw,
For thoughe ye lyue a c. yere, ye shall dy a daw.
_Vos valete_,
_Doctor indiscrete!_

[604] _Ware the Hauke_] From the ed. by Kynge and Marche of _Certaine bokes compyled by mayster Skelton_, n. d., collated with the same work, ed. Day, n. d., and ed. Lant, n. d., and with Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s _Workes_, 1568.

[605] _aulter_] Here Lant’s ed. has “auter.” (In the spelling of this word the eds. are not consistent; see vv. 49, 59, 189.)

[606] _complaynte_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “complaunt.”

[607] _Be_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “By.”

[608] _fauconer_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, and of Lant, “fouconer.”

[609] _pawtenar_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “pawtner.”

[610] _auter_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “aulter:” see note, ante, p. 155.

[611] _prest_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, and of Day, “priest.”

[612] _mete_] So Lant’s ed. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “mere.” Other eds. “meate.”

[613] _frounce_] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “fronnce” and “fronce.”

[614] _I hym_] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “him I.”

[615] _then_] Not in eds. of Day, and Marshe.

[616] _he_] Marshe’s ed. “her.”

[617] _no_] So other eds. Ed. of Kynge and Marche, “na.”

[618] _For reconciliacion_] Not in eds. of Day, and Marshe.

[619] _Divinitate_] Qy. “Divinate?”

[620] _Nor yet_] Lant’s ed. “Nother.”

[621] _Bacus_] Marshe’s ed. “Baccus.”

[622] _Constantinopell_] Marshe’s ed. “Constantinobel.”

[623] _būraarā_] In Day’s ed. the final letter of this word being blurred looks like a _d_; and Marshe’s ed. has “bunraard.” The meaning of this “tabull playne” is quite beyond my comprehension.

[624] _tuntantes_] Marshe’s ed. “tauntantes.”

[625] _Natābrian_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “Natanbrian.” The Editor of 1736 prints “_Natanbrianum sudus_.”

[626] _tēualet_] Perhaps, “ten (10) _valet_.”

[627] _nullo_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “uello.”

[628] _Ye_] Eds. “The.”

[629] _you_] Eds. “your.”

[630] _concupisti_] Eds. “racapisti” and “cacapisti.”

[631] _Dialetica_] So written in eds. for the rhyme.

[632] _reuerens_] So Lant’s ed. Other eds. “reuens.”

[633] _Per_] Eds. “Par.”

[634] _no_] Day’s ed. “ne.”

[635] _Accipiter_] Eds. “Ancipiter.”

[636] _animalia_] Eds. of Kynge and Marche, and of Lant, (in which impressions only this line is found), “aīlia.”

[637] _Walys_] Eds. of Day, and Marshe, “Wales,” and in the next line “tales.”

[638] _bestialis_] Day’s ed. “bestia.” Marshe’s ed. “bestis.”

SKELTONIS APOSTROPHAT AD DIVUM JOHANNEM DECOLLATUM, IN CUJUS PROFESTO FIEBAT HOC AUCUPIUM.

_O memoranda dies, qua, decollate[639] Johannes,_
_Aucupium facit, haud[640] quondam[641] quod fecerit, intra[642]_
_Ecclesiam de Dis, violans tua[643] sacra sacrorum!_
_Rector de Whipstok, doctor cognomine Daucock,_
_Et dominus Wodcock; probat is, probat hic, probat hæc hoc._

IDEM[644] DE LIBERA DICACITATE POETICA IN EXTOLLENDA PROBITATE, ET IN PERFRICANDA IGNOBILITATE.

_Libertas veneranda piis concessa poetis_
_Dicendi est quæcunque placent, quæcunque juvabunt,_
_Vel quæcunque valent justas defendere causas,_
_Vel quæcunque valent[645] stolidos mordere petulcos._
_Ergo dabis veniam._

Quod Skelton, laureat.

EPITHAPHE.[646]

This tretise devysed it is
Of two knaues somtyme of Dis.
Though this knaues be deade,
Full of myschiefe and queed,
Yet, where so euer they ly,
Theyr names shall neuer dye.

_Compendium de duobus versipellibus, John Jayberd, et Adam all[647] a knaue, deque illorum notissima vilitate._

A DEUOUTE TRENTALE FOR OLD JOHN CLARKE, SOMETYME THE HOLY PATRIARKE OF DIS.

_Sequitur trigintale_
_Tale quale rationale,_
_Licet parum curiale,_
_Tamen satis est formale,_
_Joannis Clerc, hominis_
_Cujusdam multinominis,[648]_
_Joannes Jayberd qui vocatur,_
_Clerc cleribus nuncupatur._
_Obiit sanctus iste pater_
_Anno Domini MD. sexto._ 10
_In parochia de Dis_
_Non erat sibi similis;_
_In malitia vir insignis,_
_Duplex corde et bilinguis;_
_Senio confectus,_
_Omnibus suspectus,_
_Nemini dilectus,_
_Sepultus est_ amonge the wedes:
God forgeue hym his mysdedes!

_Dulce melos_
_Penetrans cœlos._

_Carmina cum cannis_
_cantemus festa Joannis:_
_Clerk obiit vere,_
_Jayberd nomenque dedere;_
_Dis populo[649] natus,_
_Clerk cleribus estque vocatus._
_Hic vir Chaldæus,_
_nequam vir, ceu Jebusæus,_
_In Christum Domini_
_fremuit de more cameli,_ 10
_Rectori proprio_
_tam verba retorta loquendo_
_Unde resultando—_
_que Acheronta[650] boando tonaret._
_Nunquam sincere_
_solitus sua crimina flere;_
_Cui male lingua loquax—_
_que dicax mendaxque, fuere_
_Et mores tales_
_resident in nemine quales;_ 20
_Carpens vitales_
_auras, turbare sodales_
_Et cines socios,[651]_
_asinus, mulus velut, et bos._
_Omne suum studium_
_rubeum pictum per amictum_
_Discolor; et victum_
_faciens semper maledictum_
_Ex intestinis ovium—_
_que boumque caprorum;_ 30
_Tendens adque forum,_
_fragmentum colligit horum,_
_Dentibus exemptis_
_mastigat cumque polentis_
_Lanigerum caput aut ovis[652]_
_aut vaccæ mugientis._
_Quid petis, hic sit quis?_
_John Jayberd, incola[653] de Dis;_
_Cui, dum vixerat is,_
_sociantur jurgia, vis, lis._ 40
_Jam jacet hic_ starke deed,
Neuer a toth in his heed.
Adieu, Jayberd, adue,
I faith, dikkon thou crue!
_Fratres, orate_
For this knauate,
By the holy rode,
Dyd neuer man good:
I pray you all,
And pray shall, 50
At this trentall
On knees to fall
To the fote ball;
With, fill the blak bowle
For Jayberdes sowle.
_Bibite multum:_
_Ecce sepultum_
_Sub pede stultum,_
_Asinum, et mulum!_
The deuill kis his _culum_! 60
Wit[h], hey, howe, rumbelowe,
_Rumpopulorum,_
_Per omnia secula seculorum! Amen._

_Requiem, &c._

_Per Fredericum Hely,_
_Fratrem de Monte Carmeli,_
_Qui condunt sine sale_
_Hoc devotum trigintale._
_Vale Jayberd, valde male!_

Adam Vddersall,[654]
_Alias dictus_ Adam all
a knaue, his
Epitaph foloweth deuoutly;
He was somtime the holy
Baillyue of Dis.

Of Dis
_Adam degebat:_
_dum vixit, falsa gerebat,_
_Namque extorquebat_
_quicquid nativus habebat,_
_Aut liber natus; rapidus[655]_
_lupus inde vocatus:_
_Ecclesiamque satus_
_de Belial iste Pilatus_
_Sub pede calcatus_
_violavit, nunc violatus:_ 10
_Perfidus, iratus,_
_numquam fuit ille beatus:_
_Uddersall stratus_
_benedictis[656] est spoliatus,_
_Improbus, inflatus,_
_maledictis jam laceratus:_
_Dis,[657] tibi bacchatus_
_ballivus prædominatus:_
_Hic fuit ingratus,_
_porcus velut insatiatus,_ 20
_Pinguis, crassatus;_
_velut Agag sit[658] reprobatus!_
_Crudelisque Cacus_
_barathro, peto, sit tumulatus!_
_Belsabub his soule saue,_
_Qui jacet hic_, like a knaue!
_Jam scio mortuus est,_
_Et jacet hic_, like a best.
_Anima ejus_
_De malo in pejus.[659] Amen._ 30
_De Dis hæc semper erit camena,_
_Adam Uddersall sit anathema!_

_Auctore Skelton, rectore de Dis._

_Finis, &c. Apud Trumpinton scriptum[660] per Curatum ejusdem, quinto die Januarii Anno Domini, secundum computat. Angliæ, MDVII._

_Adam, Adam, ubi es?_ Genesis. Re. _Ubi nulla requies, ubi nullus ordo, sed sempiternus horror inhabitat._ Job.

[639] _decollate_] Eds. “decolare.”

[640] _haud_] Eds. “hod.”

[641] _quondam_] Marshe’s ed. “quandam.”

[642] _intra_] Eds. “infra.”

[643] _tua_] Eds. “sua.”

[644] _Idem, &c._] These lines follow _Ware the Hawk_ in all the eds.

[645] _valent_] Eds. “volent.”

[646] _Epithaphe, &c._] From Marshe’s ed. of Skelton’s _Workes_, 1568.

[647] _all_] Ed. “ali.:” but compare p. 171.

[648] _multinominis_] Ed. “maltimoniis.”

[649] _populo_] The correction of the Rev. J. Mitford. Ed. “populus.”

[650] _que Acheronta, &c. ... que dicax, &c._] Perhaps these passages ought to be arranged thus for the sake of the rhyme;

_“que Acheronta boando_
_tonaret. Nunquam sincere,” &c._
...
_“que dicax mendax—_
_que, fuere Et mores tales,” &c._