[Page] [Page] [Page] [Page] ▪ The Fabulous tales of Esope the Phrygian, Compiled moste eloquently in Scottishe Metre by Master Robert Henrison, & now lately Englished.
Euery tale Moralized most aptly to this present time, worthy to be read.
Imprinted at London by Richard Smith. Anno. 1577.
The bookes pasport.
THat man neare wrote
whose wryte pleasd all mens mynd,
Nor I as nowe
thinke no such place to finde:
For fyndfault he
him selfe that no good can,
By slaunderous tounge,
doth hinder many a man,
Which els would wryte
to many a ones content:
(But Bayard I)
cares not for being shent.
Goe therfore booke,
to eche mans eye to vewe:
To wyse and sadde,
and all the carping crewe.
The wysest sort,
will well accept my skill:
Sir Momus mates,
takes all good things as ill.
And he that likes not
this as I do say:
Here is the dore
and there furth right the way.
FINIS.
To his worshipfull and especial good friend Master Richard Stoneley Esquire one of the foure tellers of the Q. Maiesties receyt of the Eschecker, and Receiuer of the first fruites and tenthes to her Maiestie. R. S. wisheth encrease of Worshippe to the glorie of God.
WOrshipfull Sir, calling to my minde, that great good will that you haue borne vnto me and mine, since the time of my first acquaintance with you: except I should be to forgetfull and vngratefull, I must remember you, and be as thankefull, as my poore abilitie will serue. But the woorme of good will still gnawing my mynde thereto at last, all daintie meates and viandes set aside, which are common remembrances, yet vayne and soone forgotte, but whyle they are a eating. There came vnto my hande a Scottishe Pamphlet, of the Fabulous Tales of Esope, a worke, sir as I thinke, in that language wherin it was written, verie eloquent and full of great inuention. And no doubt you shall finde some smatch thereof, although very rudely I haue obscured the Authour, and hauing two yeres since turned it into Englishe, I haue kept it vnpublished, hoping some els of greater skill would not haue let it lyen dead. But whether most men haue that nation in derision for their hollowe hearts and vngratefull mindes to this countrey alwayes had (a people verie subiect to that infection) or thinking scorne of the Authour or first inuenter, let it passe, as friuolous and vaine matter: yet in my conceite there is learning for all [Page] sorts of people worthy the memorie. Therefore knowing not howe by any meanes to let you vnderstand my good will towarde you, but by this meanes, at last putting all feare aside, I boldly present this vnto your worship, hoping that at vacant time when other matters of great importance be layde aside, that you will not deine to recreate your minde with this trifle, where you shall finde doctrine both pleasant and profitable, and hoping as oft as you looke on this booke you will thinke on me, accepte this poore Persian water or Iewes mite, which in so doing I care not for all the scoffers and taunters, which will do nought themselues nor suffer others to do that may pleasure or profit the posteritie. I craue of God to encrease you with worldly Worshippe to his pleasure.
Yours at commandement Richard Smith.
The argument betweene Esope and the Translatour.
LAte passing thorowe Paules Churchyarde,
aside I cast mine eye,
And ere I wist, to me appearde
Sir Esope by and by,
Apparelled both braue and fine,
after the Scottish guise,
I stoode then still with ardent eyne,
I viewde him twise or thrise.
Behold quoth he, now am I here,
and faine would meete some one,
To speake English that would me leare.
with that quoth I anone:
Why English Sir, you speake right well,
what more would you require?
Yea thats in prose: my tales to tell
in verse I do desire.
Alasse I am not for your tourne,
ye must repayre vnto
The Innes of Court and Chauncery,
where learned haue to do.
At Helicon I neuer came,
the way I do not knowe,
(God Pan his seruant sir I am,
and duetie to him owe.)
On oaten pipe we still do play,
thats all that he teach can,
Of other lore he takes no way
this Growtnole rusticke Pan.
Mineruas impes they Orpheus keepe,
in Musicke they delite,
To serue your turne before they sleepe,
in verse to make you dite,
Your Fables wise and eloquent,
with phrases feate and fine,
Endewed with Apollo gent,
that passeth Muse of mine.
Content your selfe quoth Esope than,
do thus much once for me,
To learne me verse so as ye can,
my selfe as playne as ye.
They do not care for Scottish bookes,
they list not looke that way:
But if they would but cast their lookes,
some time when they do play,
Somewhat to see perhaps they might,
that then would like them wel,
To teach them treade their way aright,
to blisse, from paines of hel.
Farewel good Phrygian Poet now,
I may no more soiourne,
(If not sayth Esope) then adew,
Int Scotlande Ile returne.
Nay rather will I venture hard
and bring your minde to passe,
If that I gaine to my rewarde
King Midas eares of Asse,
And haue a thousand ill reports
still tumbling downe on me,
Than this to want vnto all sorts
and view of euery eye.
Therefore haue here good reader now,
my rurall skillesse skill,
I aske no more but this of you,
one ynche of your good will,
Which it to graunt as I do craue,
thats euen as much as I would haue.
ORpheus once did walke abrode,
mong fragrant flowers tencreace his glet,
To set his harpe in one accorde,
in tune to make his strings agree,
Whereby was heard such pleasant sounde,
that all the woodes therof rebound.
And playing thus in pleasant shade,
wilde beastes and men to him did come:
With musicke strayte them stones he made,
his gift was such, them to transforme:
He fell a sleepe, and or he wooke,
in hand a while his harpe I tooke.
This Scottish Orpheus I meane,
that Esops tales hath made to gree
In Rethoricke both trim and cleane,
that all my wittes bereft hath hee:
His harpe alas I make to iarre,
and both his name and mine do marre.
But since I made them disagree,
leaue me the blame the Laurel he.
FINIS.
▪ The Contentes of the Booke.
- 1 THe tale of the grossehead Chauntclere the cocke, and the pretious stone: wherein is shewed the wanton liues of Lasciuious maydes, with the litle care we haue of the precious giftes of God. Fol. 3
- 2 The tale of the plaine country mouse and daintie town mouse, wherin is displayed our daintie citizens wiues, which can keepe them selues in no mediocritie. Fol. 7
- 3 A pleasant tale of the Cocke and the Foxe, how wily beguiles himselfe, wherein is to be seene the life of the craftie circumucritours of the simple men, and yet some time how they meete with their match. Fol. 16
- 4 The pleasant tale howe this false dissembling Tod made his confession to the hypocrite fryer, Wolfe wayt skath, that sheweth the great hypocrisie of the Popish prelacie. Fol. 24
- 5 The Rhetoricall tale of the sonne & heyre of the foresaid Tod or Foxe, called father warres, also the parliament of beastes holden by the Lion, which she weth our duetie at all assemblies commaunded by our Prince or superiours, & how we ought to behaue our selues. 31
- 6 The wofull tale of the plaintife dogge, against the poore sheepe before Iustice Wolfe, notably shewing the abuses of such Courtes where money & might maketh the poore to begge. Fol. 44
- A tale of the Lion & the Mouse, with the authours prologue before, shewing what reuerence we owe to our Princes person, yea though he be dead, and howe [Page] we ought to venture our liues to do them good. 51
- 8 The notable tale of the preaching of the Swallowe, conteining the office of a preacher and howe they ought to warne vs of Satan his trappes, lest we be catched in his net. Fol. 62
- 9 The mery tale of the Wolfe that sayne would haue had the neckeherring or Samon, through the wyles of the Foxe that beguiled the carrier, and of their hard aduentures. Fol. 73
- 10 The excellent tale of the wily Laurence Foxe that beguiled the couetous craftie Wolf, where is shewed depe dissembling friēdship, & how briberie beareth sway. 86
- 11 The mery tale of the Wolfe and the Weather, where is painted out the lusty blouds, come vp of low degree by vnlawfull meanes, and apparclling them selues in their brauery, wil giue no place to their betters. 94
- 12 The wofull tale of the cruell Wolfe and the innocent Lambe, laying before our sight the bloud thirstie tyrāts and oppressours of poore helples men. Fol. 101
- 13 The tale of the wofull end of the Paddocke and the Mouse, shewing the well deserued ende of the holowe harted dissemblers, and howe God in the ende doth requite them. Fol. 107
Lastly the translators Epilogue, shewing that in a deformed creature God may and wil set forth his glorie.
¶ The Argument or Prologue.
THough fayned Fables of auncient poetry,
Be not all grounded vpon truth (what than)
Their politick termes in sweete Rethory
Right pleasaunt are vnto the eare of man,
And eke the cause that they first began,
Was to reproue the hole misliuing,
(Of man) by figure of some other thing.
In like maner thorough the boysterous erth,
(So it be labored with great diligence)
Springs floures and corne to our great myrth,
Holsome and good to mans sustenaunce.
So doth spring, some morall sweete sentence,
Out of the subtill dyte of Poetry:
To good purpose, who can it well apply.
The nuttes shell though it be hard and tough,
Holdes the kernell whiche is most delectable.
(So lyes their doctrine wise inough,
And full of fruyte, vnder a fayned fable.)
And wise men sayes, it is right profitable,
Amongs ernest, to mingle merry sport,
To recreat the spryte, and make the time be short.
Further, the bowe that is ay bent,
Seemes vnsmart and dui on the string,
So doth the minde that is ay diligent,
In earnest thoughts and great studying,
With sad maters some myrrinesse to ming.
Accordeth well thus Esope sayd iwis,
Dulcius arrident s [...]ria picta locis.
Of this aucthor my maysters with your leue,
Submitting me to your correction:
In mother toung, out of Latine to proue
To make some maner of translation,
Nought of my self, for vayne presumption,
But by request, and precept of a Lord,
Of whom the name I neede not record.
In homely language and in termes rude,
I needes must wryte: for why of Eloquence,
Nor Rethorike, I neuer vnderstoode.
Therefore meekely I pray your reuerence,
If that ye finde through my negligence,
To be lacking, or els superfluous,
Correct it at your willes gratious.
My Aucthor in his Fables telles how
That brutall beasts spake and vnderstoode,
And to good purpose dispute and argue.
And sillogisme propone and eke conclude,
Put in example, and in similitude,
How many men in operation,
Are like to beastes in condition.
No maruell then, though man be like a beast,
Which loues ay carnall and foule delight,
That shame cannot him pluck backe nor artest,
But takes all his lust and appetite,
And that thorow custome and dayly ryte,
Sinne in their mindes is so fast rooted,
That they into brutall beastes are transformed.
This noble clerke Esope, as I haue tolde,
With great inuention, as poete Laureate,
By figure wrote his booke: for he nought would
Lacke the disdayne of hie, nor low estate.
And to begin, first of a Cock he wrate,
Seeking his meate, which fond a precious stone,
Of whom the Fable ye shall heare anone.
FINIS.
The tale of the Grosehead chaunteleare the Cock, and precious Stone.
A Cocke sometime with feathers fresh and gay
Right cant and crowes, albeit he was but poore,
Flew forth on dunghill early on a day,
To get his dinner, set was all his cure.
Scraping the mucke, there by aduenture,
He found a Iasper stone, right pretious,
Was casten forth by sweeping of the house.
As damosels wanton and insolent,
That faine would play, and on the streete be seene,
To sweeping of the house they take no tent
They care nothing so the floore be cleene,
Iewels are lost, as sometime hath bene seene
Vpon the floore, and so swept forth anone,
Peraduenture so was this pretious stone.
So marueling vpon this stone (quoth he)
O gentle Iasp: O ritche and noble thing,
Though I thee finde, yet art thou not for me,
Thou art a Iewell for a Lord or King.
Pitty it were thou should lie in this midding,
Be buried this amongs this mucke and mold
And thou so fayre and worth so mutch gold.
It is pittie I should thee finde, for why?
Thy great vertue nor yet thy colour cleere,
It may me nother extoll, nor magnify:
And thou to me may make but little cheere,
To great Lords though thou be lief and deere,
I loue farre better things of lesse auayle
As draf or Corne to fill my tuine intrayle.
I had leuer go scrape here with my nayles,
Amongs this muck and looke my liues foode,
As draf, or corne, small wormes, or snayles,
Or any meate would do my stomacke good:
Than of Iasper stones a mighty multitude.
And thou againe vpon the same wise,
For lesse auayle thou may me now dispise.
Thou hast no corne: and thereof haue I neede,
Thy colour doth but comfort to the sight.
And that is not inough my wombe to feede,
(For the wise sayes) loking things are light.
I would haue some meate, get it if I might.
For hungry men may not liue on lookes:
Had I dry bread, I compt not for no cookes.
Where should thou make thy habitation?
Where should thou dwell but in a royall toure?
Where should thou sitte but on a kings corone,
Exalted in worship and in great honor?
Rise gentell Iasp, of all stones the floure,
Out of this dunghill and passe where thou should be
Thou cares not for me, nor I for thee.
Leuing this Iewell loe vpon the ground,
To seeke his meate this Cock his wayes went,
But when or how, or by whom it was found,
As now I set to holde no argument.
But of the inward sentence, and intent:
Of this (as mine Author here doth wright)
I shall reherse in rude and homely dite.
This pretious Iasp, had properties seuen,
The first, of colour it was maruelous:
Parte like the fire, and parte like the heauen,
It makes a man stoute and victorious,
Preserues also, from chaunces perillous.
Who hath this stone, shall haue good hap to speede,
Nor fire, nor water, he needeth not to dred.
The Morall.
THis gentle Iasp right different of hue
Betokenith perfect prudence and cunning,
Ornate with many deedes of vertue,
More excellent, than any earthly thing
Whiche makes men in honor for to ring,
Happy and stoute to winne the victorie,
Of all vices and spirituall enmitie.
Who may be hardy, ritch, and gratious?
Who can eschue perill and aduenture?
Who can gouerne a Realme, Citty or House,
Without science, no man I you assure?
It is ritches, that euer shall endure,
Whiche mothe, nor moyst, nor other rust can freat,
To mans soule it is eternall meat.
This Cocke desireth more the simple corne,
Than any Iaspe, (may till a foole be peere)
Whiche at science makes a mocke or scorne,
And no good can, as little will he leare:
His hart wambles wise argument to heare,
As doth a Sowe, to whome men for the nones,
Into hir draffe would throw some pretious stones.
Who is enimie to science and cunning,
But ignorance that vnderstandeth nought?
Whiche is so noble, so pretious and so digne,
That it may not with earthly thing be bought:
Well were that man of all other that mought
All his life dayes in perfect study spend,
To get Science, to keepe him till his end.
But now (alas) that stone is lost and hide,
We seeke it not, nor prease it not to finde,
Haue we ritches, no better life we bide:
Of Science though the soule be bare and blinde,
Of this matter to speake, it were but winde.
Therefore I cease, and will no further say,
(Go seeke the Iasp, who will, for there it lay).
¶ The prety tale of the playne countrey Mouse, and deyntie towne Mouse.
ESope mine Author maketh mention
Of two myse, and they were sisters deere,
Of whome theldest dwelt in a Citty or Towne:
The other dwelte in the countrey there neere,
Solitary vnder bushe, sometime vnder bryer:
Now in the corne, now in other mens food,
As theeues do, that liue by others good.
This rurall Mouse, in the winter tyde
Had hunger, and colde, and also great distresse,
The other Mouse that in the towne can byde,
Was a sworne brother and made a free Burges,
And had all things toll free, by custome more or lesse,
And freedom had to go where euer she list,
Amongs the cheese in racke, and meale in chist.
One time when she was full, and longed sore,
It came in minde, hir sister for to see,
And where she dwelt, and how hir life she bore,
And how shee farde, vnder the roote of tree:
Bare foote alone, with staffe so goeth shee.
As poore pilgrim, she passeth out of towne,
To seeke hir sister, both ore dale and downe.
Forth many croked wayes, can she walke,
Throw mosse and moore, throw banke, bush & bryer,
Thus ran she crying, while she came till a balke,
Come forth to me quoth shee, myne owne sister deart
Cry peep Anis, with that the Mouse could heare,
And knew hyr voyce, as kinswomen will do,
By very kinde, and forth she came hir to.
The harty ioy (O God) if you had seene,
Betweene these two sisters, when they mette,
And great loue was shewen them betweene,
For whiles they laugh, and whyles for ioy they wept,
Somwhiles kissing sweete, somwhiles in armes replet
And thus they fare, while soberd was there moode,
So foote for foote, vnto the chamber yoode.
As I hard say, hit was a simple one,
Of fog and serue full feebly was made,
A homely thing, ouer a stedfast stone,
Of whiche thentrie, was not hie nor brode,
And in they went, withouten more abode,
Without fier or candle, burnyng bright,
For commonly, such pickers loues no light.
When they weare lodged thus, these silly myce,
The yongest sister into her buttery glyd,
And brought foorth nuttes and corne in steede of spice,
If this weare good I aske you here beside,
The towne Mouse, promped forth in pryde,
And sayd sister, is this your dayly foode?
Why not (quoth she) is not this meate right good?
Nay by my soule I take it but in skorne,
Madam (quoth she) ye be the more to blame,
My mother sayd sister, when we were borne,
That I and ye lay both within on wame,
I keepe the rate and custome of my Dame,
And alwayes liues, thus in pouertie,
For landes haue we none in propertie.
My fayre sister (quoth she) haue me excused,
This rude diet and I cannot accord,
To tender meat my stomake is ay vsed,
For whyles I fare aswell as any Lord,
These withered pease, and nuttes or they be bord,
Will breake my teeth, & make my wombe ful slender,
Whiche was before vsed to meates so tender.
Well well sister, (quoth the countrey mouse,)
If it please you such things as ye see there,
Both meate and drinke, my lodging and house,
Shalbe your owne whyles ye remaynen heare.
Ye shall it haue with myrth and merry cheare,
And that should make the meases that are rude,
Among friends, right tender and wounders good.
What pleasure is, in feasts delicate,
The whiche are geuen with a lowring browe?
A gentle hart is better recreate,
With harty minde, than set to him a kowe.
A modicum, is more for to allowe,
So that good will be caruer at the dease,
Than costly fayre and many spiced mease.
For all hir good will, and mery exhortation
This Burges mouse had little lust to sing,
But heauyly she cast hir browes a downe,
For all the daynties that she could hir bring:
Yet at the last, she sayd halfe in skorning,
Sister this victuall, and your royall feast,
May well suffice vnto a rurall geast.
Let alone this hole, and come now me after,
And I shall to you shewe by experience,
That my good Fryday is better than your Ester,
My dishe lickings, is worth your hole expence,
I haue houses moe, of great defence,
Of Cat nor trap, iwis I haue no dreede:
I graunt, quoth she, and on together yeede.
In stubble array thorow grasse and corne:
And vnder busshes priuily can they creepe,
Theldest was the guyde and went beforne,
The yonger to hir wayes tooke good keepe:
On night they ran, and on the day can sleepe,
And early in the morning, ere they blin,
They fand the towne, and meryly went in.
Not farre fro thence into a fayre place,
This Burges brought thē soone where they should be,
Without God speede, their lodging there they hase,
Into a spence with victall great plenty,
Both cheese and butter vpon the shelues hie,
And flesh and fish inough, bothe freshe and salt,
And sackes full of meale and eke of malt.
After, when they were disposed to dine,
Without grace they wash, and went to meate.
With all courses that Cookes could deuise,
As Mutton and Beef layde in chardgers great:
Yea Lordes fare thus could they counterfeat,
Except one thing, they dranke the water cleare,
In steede of wine, but yet they made good cheere.
With face vp cast and mery countenaunce,
The eldest sister spake vnto hir gest,
If that she by reason, fond difference
Betwixt that chamber and hir sory nest:
Yea dame (quoth she) how long wil this lest?
For euermore I wote, and longer to,
If it be so, ye are at case (quoth shoe).
To all this cheere a banquet forth shee brought,
A plate of grotes and a dishe of meale,
Ote cakes also I trow, she spared nought,
Abundantly about hir for to deale.
And manfully so, she brought in steede of geill,
A white candle, out of a coffer stale,
In steede of spice to taste their mouths withall.
This made they mery while they might no more,
All hayle all hayle, cried she on hie,
Yet after ioy oft times comes matter sore,
And trouble after great prosperitie:
Thus as they sate in all their iolitie
The spencer comes, with keyes in his hand,
Opened the dore and them at dinner fande.
They taried not to washe as I suppose,
But on to go who that mought formost winne,
The towne mouse had an hole and in she goes,
Hir sister had no hole to hide hir in,
To see that selly mouse it were great sinne
So desolate there and harde bestead,
For very dred she fell in fowne neare dead.
But as God would it fell an happy case,
The Spencer had no leysure for to byde,
Nother to seeke nor search to [...]ere ne chase,
But on he went and left the dore vp wide?
This bolde Burges this passing well hath spied,
Out of hir hole she came and cried on hie:
How fare ye sister crie peep where ere ye be.
This rurall mouse, lay flatling on the ground,
For feare of death she was full sore dredand.
For to hir hart strake many wofull sound,
As in a feuer she trimbled foote and hand,
And when hir sister in such plight her fand,
For very pitty she began to weepe:
So comforted hir with woordes hony and sweete.
Why lie ye thus ryse vp my sister deare?
Come to your meate this perrill is or epast,
The other answered hir with heauy cheare,
I may not eate, so sore I am agast,
I had leuer this fortie dayes to fast,
With water porrage, and to gnaw beanes or pease,
Than all your feast in this dread and desease.
With faire treaty yet she made hir ryse,
And to the boord they went, and togither sate,
And scantly had they dronken once or twyse,
When in came Gib hunter, our ioly Cat
And bad Godspeede, the Burges vp with that,
And till hir hole she went as fire of flint,
But Gilbert the other by the backe has hint.
From foote to foote he cast hyr so with pusshes,
Now vp now downe, now suffer hir to creepe
Now would he let her run vnder the rushes
Now would he winke and play with hir bo peep
Thus to the silly mouse he did paynes grete:
Whyles at the last thorow fortune and good hap,
Betwixt a bord and the wall she crap.
And vp in hast behinde the cloth paynted,
She clam so hie that Gilbert might not get hir
There by the cludges craftely she hanged,
Till he was gone, hir cheare was all the better,
So downe she lap when there was none to let her,
And to the Burges mouse lowde can she crie,
Fare well fayre sister thy feastes here I defie.
Thy feastings are filled all with care,
Thy guyse is good, thend is sower as gall
The subchardge of thy seruices is fayre fare,
So that thou finde hereafter warde no fall
I thanke you curtaines, and you purple wall,
Of my defence, now from you cruell beast,
Almighty God keepe me fro such another feast.
Were I into the cabin, that I came fro,
For weale nor wo should I neare come agayne.
With that she tooke hir leaue, and forth can go,
Somtimes throw yt corne & somtimes throw ye pla [...]
When she was forth and free she was full fayne:
And merely marched vnto the moore,
I cannot tell how there she foore.
But I hearde say she passed to hir denne,
As warme as woll, suppose it was not great,
Full well stuffed at eche side and ende
With beanes, and nuttes, pease, rye, and wheat:
When euer she lust she had inough to cate,
In quiet and rest, without any dread,
But to hir sisters feast, nomore she yead.
Moralitie.
FRendes, ye may finde and ye will take heede,
In this Fable a good Moralitie:
As fitches mingled are with noble seede,
So intermingled is aduersitie
With earthly ioy, so that no state is free
Without trouble and some vexation,
As namely they whiche clime vp most hie,
That are not content with small possession.
Blessed be the simple life without dread,
Blessed be sober feast in quietie:
Who hath inough, of no more hath he neede,
Though that it be little in quantitie:
Great aboundance and blinde prosperitie,
Ofttimes makes an euil conclusion:
The sweetest life therefore in this countrie,
Is a contented minde with small possession.
O wanton man, that vsest for to feede
Thy wombe and makes it a God to be,
Like to thy self, I warne thee wele to dreede,
The Cat comes, and to the mouse hies he,
What auayles than thy feast and royaltie,
With dreadfull hart and tribulation?
Best thing in earth, therefore I say for me,
Is content in hart, with small possession.
Thine owne fire is best my frende; if thou take heede,
It warmes well, and is worth gold to thee:
And Salomon sayth, if that thou wilt reede
Vnder the Heauen there cannot better bee,
Then for to be mery, and liue in honesty.
Wherefore I may conclude by this reason,
Of earthly ioy it is the best degree,
A hart contented with small possession.
FINIS.
The pleasant tale of the Coc [...] and the Foxe how wyly beguyles him selfe.
THough brutall beasts be irrationall,
That is to say wanting discretion,
Yet euery man in their kinde naturall,
Hath many and diuers inclination.
The boystrous Beare, the Wolf, the wilde Lion:
The Foxe feyning, crafty, and cautelous:
The dogge to barke on nights and keepe the house.
So different they are in properties,
Vnknowen to man and so infinite,
In kinde hauing so fell diuersities,
My cunning is excluded for to endite.
Of them as now I purpose not to wryte
A case I fand whiche fell this other day,
Betwixt a Fox and a Cock full gay.
A wydow dwelt in a cottage many dayes,
Whiche ernd hir foode with spinning on hir rocke,
And no more had forsoth, as the Fable sayes,
Except of hennes she had a little flocke,
And them to keepe she had a iolly Cock:
Right couragious, that to this widow ay,
Deuided the night, and crowde before the day.
A little from this foresayd widdowes house,
A thorny thicket there was of greate defence,
Wherein a Foxe crafty and cautelous,
Made his abode and dayly residence,
Whiche to this widowe did great violence,
In picking of pultry bothe day and night,
And no way be reuenged on him she might.
This wyly Foxe when that the Larcke could sing,
Full sore hungry vntill the towne him drest,
Where this lusty Cock in the gray morning,
Weary of night was flowen fro his nest,
Laurence this saw, and in his minde kest
The ieoperdy, the wayes, and the wyle,
By what meanes he mought the Cock beguile.
Dissimuling in countenance and cheere,
On knees fell, and flattering thus he sayd:
Good morne my mayster gentle Chauntcleere.
With that the Cock start backward in abrayd:
Sir by my soule ye neede not be affrayd,
Nor yet for me to start nor flee abacke,
For I come hither seruice to you to make.
Would I not serue you, I were to blame,
As I haue done to your progenitor:
Your father full oft filled hath my wame,
And sent me meate from donghill to the moore,
And at his ende I did my busie cure
To holde his head and giue him drinkes warme,
So at the last he sounded in my arme.
Knew ye my Father (quoth the Cock) and lough,
Yea my fayre Sonne, I helde vp his head,
When that he died vnder a byrchen bongh.
And sayd the Diridge when that he was dead:
Betwixt vs two how should there be any fead?
Whom should ye trust but me your seruitour,
That to your Father did so great honour?
When I behelde your feathers fayre and gent,
Your beake, your brest, your hekell and your [...]ome,
Sir by my soule and the blessed Sacrament,
My hart is warme, me thinkes I am at home:
To make you mery I would creepe on my wome,
In frost and snow, in weather wan and neate,
And lay my golden lockes vnder your feete.
This fayned Foxe false and dissimulate,
Made to this Cock a crafty cauillation:
Yee are me thinkes changd and degenerate,
From your Father of his condition,
Of crafty crowing he might beare the crowne:
For he would on his toes slande and craw,
This was no lie, I stoode beside and saw.
With that the Cock vpon his toes hie,
Kest vp his booke, and sang with all his might,
Quoth sir Laurence well sayde so mote I thee,
Yee are your fathers Sonne and heyre vpright:
But of his cunning yet ye want one slight,
For (quoth the Tod) he would withouten dont,
Both winke, and crowe, & turne him thrice about.
The Cock infect with winde and false vayneglore,
That many puts vnto confusion,
Trusting to winne great worship therefore,
Vnwarely winked walking vp and doune,
And so to sing and crowe he made him boune:
And sodainly by he had crowne a note,
The Foxe was ware, and catchd him by the throte.
So to the wood without tarrying he hi [...]d,
Of that crime hauing but little doubte,
With that Pertoke, Spratoke, and Toppoke cried.
The widow heard; and with a crie came out,
Seing the case, she sight and gaue a shoute.
With how murthrer hay, and gaue hir dore a knocke,
Saying now alas, lost is my gentle Cock.
As she were wood with many yell and crie,
Pulling hir heare, vpon hir breast can beate,
So pale of hue halfe in an extasie,
Fell downe for care in sowning and in sweate:
With that the silly hennes lefte their meate,
And whylest their dame lay thus in sowne,
They all fell into disputation.
Alas (quoth Pertok) making sore monyng,
With teares great, whiche downe hir cheekes fell,
Yonder was our le [...]man and our dayes darlyng,
Our Nightingall, and our mornyng bell,
Our walking watch vs for to warne and tell,
When that Aurora with hir coursers gray,
Put vp hir head betwixt the night and day.
Who shall our lemman be? who shall vs leade?
When we are sad, who shall vnto vs sing?
With his sweete bill, he would breake vs the bread,
In all this world there was no kinder thing,
In paramory he would do vs pleasing,
To his power as nature did him giue:
Now after him alas, how shall we liue?
Quoth Sprucock then, cease sister of your sorrow,
Ye be to madde such mourning for to glose,
We shall speede well I finde S. Iohn to borrow:
The Prouerbe sayes, as good loues comes as goes,
I will put on my holydaye clothes,
And make me freshe against this iolly May,
So sing this song, was neuer widow so gay.
He was angry, and helde vs ay in awe,
And wounded with the speare of ielousie,
Of chamber glue Pertoke, full well yee know,
Wasted he was, of nature colde and dry.
Since he is gone, therefore sister say I,
Put care away, for that is best remead,
Let quicke to quicke, and dead goe to the dead.
Then Pertoke spake, with fayned fayth before,
In lust without loue he set all his delight:
Sister ye wote, of such as him a score,
Would not suffise to slake our appetite,
I holde here my hande since he is quite,
Within a myle for shame and I durst speeke,
To get a lad should better clawe our breeke.
Than Toppok like a priest spake full crous,
You was a very vengeance from the heauen,
He was so lowse and so lecherous.
He had (quoth she) Kittoks more than seuen:
But rightuous God holding the ballance euen,
Smytes right sore though he be patient,
For adultery, that will them not repent.
Full of pryde he was, and ioyed in his sinne,
And counted not for Gods fauour nor fayth,
But trusted all to riot and so did rinne:
While at last his sinnes can him skayth,
To shamefull ende, and to you sodden death.
Therefore it is the very hand of God,
That causeth him, be werried with the Tod.
When this was sayd, this widow from hir sowne,
Stert vp on foote and on the dogges she cryed,
How bercke, bery, bowsie, browne,
Ripe shaw, run well, curteys, nutticlyde,
Together all without grudging see ye speede,
Rescue my noble Cock or he be slayne,
Or els to me, see ye come neuer againe.
Withouten more for feare of being shent,
As fier of flint ouer the fieldes flawe,
Full swiftly thorow woodes and waters went,
And ceased not sir Laurence till they sawe:
But when he saw the houndes [...]om [...] on a rawe,
Vnto the Cock in minde he sayde God sen,
That I and thou were present in my den.
Then sayd the Cocke with some good sprite [...]nspirit,
Do my counsell, and I shall warrant thei:
Hungry thou art, and for great trauayle tyred,
Right faynt of force, and may not further flee:
Quickly turne againe, and say that I and yet,
Frendes are made, and fellowes for a yeere,
Then will they stint, Ile stande betweene ye heere.
Thus Tod though he was false and friuolous,
And had craft his quarell to defend,
Deceyued was by meanes right maruelous,
For wyly beguiles himselfe at the latter end:
He start abacke and cried as he was lernd,
With that the Cock flew vp into a tree,
Now whether sir Laurence laugh or no iudge yee.
Beguyled thus the Tod vnder the tree,
On knees fell, and sayd good Chaunteclere:
Come downe agayne, and without meate or fee,
Ile be your man, and serue you for a yeere.
No false theefe and rouer, stand not me neere.
My bloudy combe and my necke so sore,
Hath parted frendship, twixt vs for euermore.
I was vnwise that winked at thy will,
Where thorow almost I losed had my head,
I was more foole (quoth he) to be so still,
Where thorow to put my pray now into plead.
Away false theefe, God keepe me fro thy fead.
With that the Cock ouer the fieldes tooke flight,
And in at the widowes window could he light.
Moralitie.
NOw worthy folke, suppose this be a Fable,
And ouerheled with tipes fugerall,
Yet may ye finde some sentence right agreeable,
Vnder these fayned termes textuall.
To our purpose this Cock well may we call,
Nice proude men, voyde and vaine glorious,
Of kin and bloud, which are presumptuous.
Fie puft vp pryde, thou art full poysonable,
Who fauoureth thee of force must haue a fall,
Thy strength is nought, thy stoole stands vnstable.
Take witnesse of the fendes infernall,
Whiche throwen downe were from the heauēly hal
To Hels hole and to that hideous house,
Bicause in pryde, they were presumptuous.
This fayned Foxe may well be figurate,
To flatterers with pleasant woordes white,
With false meaning and minde most toxicate,
To glose and lie, that settes their whole delite,
All worthy folke, at such should haue despite.
For where is there more perillous pestilence,
Than giue to lyars hasty credence.
The wicked minde and adulation,
Of these sweete suckers hauing the similitude,
Are bitter as gall, and full of poyson,
To tast it is, who cleerely vnderstoode:
For this as now shortly to conclude,
These two sinnes, flattery and vaineglore,
(Are perilous) good folke flee them therefore.
FINIS.
¶ The pleasant tale howe this false dissembling Tod, made his confession to the hypocrite fryer Wolfe, Waytskayth.
LEauing this wydow glad I you assure,
Of Chauntclere more iocund than I can tell:
And speake we of the subtill aduenture,
And destinit that to this Foxe befell,
Whiche durst no more with wayting intermell,
As long as leame or light was of the day,
But byding night full still lurking he lay.
Whyle that the Goddosse of the flood,
Phebus had called to the harbery,
And Hesperus put vp his clowdy hood,
Shewing his iusty visage in the skie.
Then Laurence looked vp where he did lie,
And cast his hande vpon his eye on hight,
Mery and glad that come was the night.
Out of the woodde vnto a hill he went,
Where he mought see the twinekling starres cle [...]re,
And all the Planets of the firmament,
Theyr course and eke their mouing in the sphere:
Some Retrograde, and some Stationere:
And of the Zodiake in what degree,
They were eche one as Laurence learned mee.
Then Saturne olde was entred in Capricorne,
And Iuppiter moued in Sagittarie,
And Mars in the Rams head was borne,
And Phebus in the Lion forth can carrie,
Venus the Crab, the Mone was in Aquarie,
Mercury the God of Eloquence,
Into the Virgin made his residence.
Without Astrolab, Quadrant, or Almanake,
Taught of nature by instruction,
The mouing of the heauen this Tod can take,
What influence and constellation,
Was like to fall vpon the earth adowne.
And to himselfe he sayd this one thing,
God haue me Father that set me to learning.
My desteny and eke my death is knowne,
My aduenture is clearely to me kend,
With mischiefe mortall men are ouerthrowne,
My missyning the sooner but if I mend,
It is rewarde of sinne, a shamefull end.
Therefore I will go seeke some confessoure,
And shryue me cleane of my sinnes to this houre.
And (quoth he) right fearfull are wee theeues,
Our liues be eche night in aduenture,
Our cursed crafte full many men mischieues:
For euer we steale, and ouer are like poore,
In dread and shame our dayes we endure.
Still hunting after mischief at euery becke,
Till at last for our hyre we are hanged by the necke.
Accursing thus his cankred conscience,
On top of a crag he cast aboute his eye,
And saw comming a little from thence,
A worthy Docter in diuinitie,
Fryer Wolfe Waytskayth, in science wonders slie,
To preach and pray was commen from the closter,
With heades in hand, saying his Pater noster.
Seyng this Wolf this wyly traytor Tod,
On knees fell with hood into his necke,
Welcome my ghostly father vnder God,
(Quoth he) with many bow, and many becke,
Ha (quoth the Wolf) si [...] Tod for what effect,
Make ye such mone, rise vp on your foet?
Father, quoth he, I haue great cause to doet.
Ye are Mirrour, Lanterne, and liuely way,
To guyde suth simple men as me to grace,
Your barefeete, and your u [...]sse [...] [...]nle of grey.
Your leane cheekes, your pale pit [...]ous face,
Whiche shewes to me your perfect holinesse,
For well were him that once in his liue,
Had hap to you, his sinnes for to shryne.
Nay silly Laurence (quoth the Wolf) and lough,
It pleaseth me that ye are penitent.
Of theft and flouth, sir I can tell inough,
That causeth me full sore for to repent:
But Father byde still here vpon the bent,
I you beseech, and heare mee to deplore,
My guiltie conscience that prickes me so sore.
Well, quoth the Wolf, sit downe vpon thy knee,
And he downe barehead sate full humily,
And so began with Benedicitee.
When I this saw I drewe a little by,
For it is no good manners to heare nor spie,
Nor to reueale things sayde vnder that seale,
Yet to the Tods cōscience, the Wolf did thus appeale
Art thou contrite and sory in thy spryte,
For thy trespas? nay sir I cannot doet,
My thinkes that hennes are so hony sweete,
And Lambes flesh that new are letten blood,
For to repent my minde cannot conclude:
But of this thing, that I haue slayne so few,
Well, quoth the Wolf, in sayth thou art a shrew.
Since thou cannot forethinke thy wickednesse,
Wilt thou forbeare in time to come and mende?
And I forbeare, how should I liue alas?
Hauing no other crafte me to defende,
Neede causeth me to steale where euer I wende:
I shame to begge, and worke I ne can,
Yet would I fayne, pretende a Gentleman.
Well (quoth the Wolfe) thou wantes points two,
That belong to perfect confession:
To the third part of penitence let vs go.
Wilt thou take paynes for thy transgression?
Nay sir, consider my complexion,
Sielly and weake, and of my nature tender,
Lo, will yee see, I am both leaue and slender.
Yet neuerthelesse I would so it were light,
Shorte and not greeuing to my tendernesse,
Take parte of payne, fulfill it if I might,
To set my silly soule in way of grace:
Thou shalt (quoth he) forbeare flesh vntill Pase,
To tame thy corps that cursed carrion:
And here I giue thee full remission.
I graunt thereto, so ye will giue me leaue,
To eate puddings, or lap a little blood,
Or head, or feete, or panches let me preue,
In case I fall no fleshe vnto my food:
For great neede. I giue thee leaue good,
Twise in the weeke, for neede may haue no law:
God thanke you sir, for that text well I knaw.
When this was sayd, the Wolf his wayes went,
The Foxe a foote he goth vnto the flood,
To get him fishe, hollily was his intent:
But when he saw the water and waues wood,
Astonisht all, still in a muse he stood:
And sayd, better that I had bidden at hame,
Nor bene a fisher in the Deuils name.
Now must I scrape my meate out of the flood,
And I haue nother bootes nor yet boat.
As he was thus for faulte of meate neare wood,
Looking about like a wyly soat,
Vnder a tree he saw a trip of goate,
Than was he mery, and through the hedge him hid,
And from the goate, he stale hir little kid.
So ouer the hedge vnto the water hies,
And tooke the kidde by the hornes twayne,
And in the water either twise or thryse,
He dowked him, and to him can he sayne:
Go downe sir kid, come vp sir Salmon againe.
While he was dead so to the lande him drough,
And of that new made Salmon he eate inough.
Thus finely filled with yong tender meate,
Vnto a thicket for dread he him adrest,
Vnder a bush, where the Sunne can beate,
To beyke his brest and belly he thought best,
And scorningly, he sayde, where he did rest,
Stroking his wombe against the Sunnes heate,
Vpon this belly, what if a bolt should beate?
When this was sayd, the keeper of the gayt,
Carefull in hart, his kid was stolne away,
On euery side full warely could he wayt,
Till at the last he saw where Laurence lay:
A bowe he bent, an arrow with feathers gray,
He drew to the head, and or he stearth,
The Foxe he pricketh fast vnto the earth.
Now, quoth the Foxe, alas and well away,
Gored I am and may no further go,
Me thinkes no man may speake a woorde in play,
But now adayes in earnest its turned so,
He tooke him and his arrow drew him fro.
And for his Kid and other violence,
He tooke his skinne and made a recompence.
Moralitie.
THis sudden death, and vnprouided end,
Of this false Tod without prouision,
Example is, exhorting folke to amend,
For dread of such and like confusion.
For many now hath good profession.
Yet not repentes, nor for their sinnes weepe,
Bicause they thinke their lusty life so sweete.
Some bene also thorow consueted and ryte,
Vanquisht with carnall sensualitie,
Suppose they be as for the time contryte,
Can not forbeare, nor fro their sinnes flee:
Vse drawes nature so in propertie,
Of beast and man, that needes they must do,
As they of long time haue bene vsde thereto.
Beware good folkes, and feare this sudden shote,
Whiche smites sort without any resistaunce,
Attend wisely, and in your hartes note,
Against death may no man make defence:
Cease off your sinne, remorse your conscience,
Obey vnto your God and ye shall wend,
After your death, to blisse withouten end.
FINIS.
The Retoricall tale of the sonne and heyre of the foresayd Foxe called Father Wars, also the Parlement of foure footed beastes, holden by the Lyon.
THis foresayd Foxe, that dide for his misdeede,
Had not one Sonne was gotten rightuously,
To be heyre by law that might succeede,
Except one Sonne whiche in adultery,
He gotten had by purchase priuily:
And he gaue him to name father wurst,
That loude well pultry although he were curst.
It folowes still by reason naturall,
As degree by degree, of right comparison:
Of euill comes worse: of worse comes worst of all:
Of wrongfull getting comes false succession.
This Foxe bastard of generation,
Of very kinde behoued to be false,
So was his Father and his Graundsir als.
As naturall seeking his meate by sent,
By chaunce he found his fathers carrion,
Naked, new slayne, and to him as he went,
Tooke vp his head, and on his knees fell downne,
Thanking the Gods of that conclusion.
And sayd, now shall I walke since I am heyre,
The boundes where thou were wont to repayre.
Fye couetous, vnkind, and venemous:
The Sonne was glad he found his father dead,
By sudden shotte for deedes odious,
That he might raigne and rage still in his stead,
Dreading nothing the same life to leade,
In theft and robry, as did his father before,
But to the end, attent he tooke no more.
Yet neuerthelesse thorow naturall pittie,
The Carrion vpon his backe he taeth,
Now finde I well this Prouerbe true (quoth he)
Still runnes the Foxe, as long as he foote hath,
So with the corps vnto a pit he gaeth,
Of water full, and cast him in the deepe,
And to the Deuill he gaue his bones to keepe.
Oh foolish man plonged in worldlinesse,
To gather golde and other worldly meede,
To put thy soule in payne and heauinesse,
To ritche thine heyre whiche hath but little neede:
Haue be thy good once, he takes but small heede,
To execute, to do, to satisfie,
Thy latter will, thy debt, and legacie.
This Tod to rest him, he passed till a crag,
And there be heard a boystrous horne bloro,
Whiche as he thought, made all the world wag:
At last a Vnicorne came running below,
Then start he vp when he this heard and sawe,
With horne in band, a bill on brest he bore,
The goodliest Pursiuant that erst was seene before.
Unto a banke where he mought see aboute,
On euery side, in hast he gan him hie,
Shot out his voyce full shrill and gaue a showte,
And on this wise, twice or thryce did crie:
With that the beasts in the fieldes thereby,
All meruayling what such a thing should meene,
Greatly agast, they gathered on a greene.
Out of a wood a Bull so gan he brayde,
And redde the text withouten tarrying,
Commaunding silence, sadly thus he sayd:
The noble Lion, of all beasts the King,
Greeting to God health euerlasting.
To brutall beasts, and irration all,
I send as to my subiects great and small.
My celsitude, and hie magnificence,
Let you to wit, that euen incontinent,
As to morow with Royall diligence,
Vpon this hill to holde my Parlement,
Straytly therefore I giue commaundement,
For to appeare before my trybunall,
Vnder all payne that may thereof befall.
The morrow came, and Phebus with his beames,
Consumed had the misty clowdes gray,
The ground was greene and as gold it gleames.
With grasse growing goodly great and gay,
The spice they spread to smell on euery spray:
The Larke, the Mauis, and the Metle full hie,
Sweetely can sing skipping fro tree to tree.
Two Leopards came with crowne of massiue gold,
And so they brought it to the hils height.
With Iaspers, Ionet, and royals Rubies rold.
And many diuers Diamondes ydight,
With speaken roapes a pauilion downe they pight.
And there in throne sate a mighty wilde Lion,
In robe Royall, with Scepter, swoorde & Corone.
After the tenor of the cry before,
That all foure footed beasts should appeere in place,
Is they commaunded were withouten more,
Before the Lorde the mighty Lions grace,
And what they were to me, Laurence tolde apace,
As I shall rehearse apart of euery kinde,
As far as now occurreth to my minde.
The Minotaur a monster maruelous,
Bellerophon that beast of bastardy,
The Warwolf, and the Pegase perillous,
Transformed by assent of Sorcery:
The Linx, the Tyger, full of tyranny:
The Elephant, and eke the Dromedary,
The Camell with his crane necke, forth can carry.
The Leopard, as I haue tolde beforne,
The Intlop, the Sparth forth can speede,
The paynted Panthor, and the Vnicorne.
The Rayndeer run through tyuer, rush and reede,
The iolly Gennet, and the gentill steede.
The Asse, the Mule, the Horse of euery kinde,
The Do, the Roe, the horned Hart, the Hinde.
The Bull, the Bore, the Bugle, and the Beare,
The tame Cat, Wildecat, and the wild wood Swine,
The hardbacke Hedgehogge, and pennde Porcupine,
The crookehorne Goate, the silly Sheepe, the Swine,
The wilde Ounce, the Buck, the halting Brocke,
The Fowmart, with the Fybert forth can flocke.
The gray Greyhoūd with Sleuth hoūd forth cā slide,
With Dogges all, diuers and different,
The Rat ran, the Glybard forth can glyde,
The pilde Polcat, with the Wesill went,
The fine Fycho that hath furre, money vent.
The Merten, with the Cony, and the Con,
The Bowrabant, and eke the Lerion.
The Marmesset the Moule can lead,
Bicause that nature denied had hir sight,
Thus dressed they all foorth for dread of dead,
The Musk, the little Mouse with all hir might,
With hast she hied vnto that hill of hight,
And many kinde of beasts I could not know,
Before theyr Lord (the Lion) lowted low.
Seing these beasts all at his bidding boun,
He gaue a brayde and looked him about,
Then flatlings to his feete they fell all downe,
For dread of death, they drouped all in doute,
He looked when that he sawe them lowte,
And bad them with a countenance full sweete,
Be not afrayde, but stand vpon your feete.
I let you wit my might is mercyable,
And hurtes none that are to me prostrate,
Angry, austerne, and also vnamiable,
To all that stande agaynst my royall state,
I true of life all beastes that make debate,
Against the might of my magnificence,
See none pretende to quarrell in my presence.
My celsitude, and my hie maiestie,
With might, and mercy mingled shall be ay,
The lowest here I can full soone rayse hie,
And make him Master ouer you all I may.
The Dromedary if he will make deray,
The great Camell though he were neere so crouse,
Can bring as lowe as the little Mouse.
See that within twenty myles where I am,
The Kid goe fault by the Goates side,
The Tod for his head looke not on a Lam,
Nor no rauenyng beast, neither run nor ride.
They couched all after this was cride,
The Iustice bad the court for to beginne,
The sutes called, and forfaytes bring in.
The Panthor with his paynted coate sheene,
Fenced the court as the law hyd,
Then the Tod lurkt back for feare being seene,
And starte backe behind one, and so him hid,
Pulling his beare piteously he cride,
Quaking for dread, and sighing can he say,
Alas this hower, alas thus dollfull day.
I wot this sudden assembly that I see,
Hauing the poynts of a Parlement,
Is made to mar, such misdoers as mee,
Therefore if I me shewe I shalbe shent:
I will therefore goe and be absent,
To byde or flee, I wote not in fayth,
All is a like, there folowes nought but death.
Perplexed thus in hart can he meane,
Throw falshod how he might himselfe defende,
His hood he drew right ore his tyne,
And winking with one tye forth he wend,
Halting he came that he might not be kend:
And for dread that he should be arrest,
He playde bo peep behinde fro beast to beast.
O troubled spryte and cancred conscience,
Before a King rayning with rightuousnesse,
Blushing cheekes, and shamefull countenance,
Farewell thy fame, now gone is all thy grace,
The Phisnomy, the fauour of thy face,
For thy defence, is foule and disfigurate,
Brought to the light by these tokens of late.
Be thou attached with thefte or with treason,
For thy misdeedes, wrongs, and wicked fay,
Thy cheere changes Laurence, thou must looke don
The worship of this worlde is gone thee away,
Looke to this Tod, how he was in affray.
And flee the sinne of falshood I thee reede,
Where through there followes sinne & shameful deed [...].
Appearing thus before their Lord and King,
In order set all in ioy and myrth,
Of euery kinde he made forth bring,
And awfully he spake and thus put forth,
If there was any kinde of beast on yearth,
Absent? and thereto made them deepely sweare:
And they sayde none, except one Stud gray Mare.
Let sende a message vnto that Stud,
The court then sayde, now who shall it be,
Come forth Laurence lurkyng vnder thy hood,
A ha sir mercy, lo I haue but one eye,
Hurt in the hoghe, and crookt as ye may see:
The Wolf is better farre in ambassage,
And thereto learned, wise and sage.
The King stoode vp, and sayde hence away both,
And they to goe without any tarrying,
Ouer hill and dale, for feare of his wroth,
And found the Mare at hir meate in the morning,
Now (quoth the Tod) Madame come to the King,
The court is called, and ye are found contumax,
Let be Laurence (quoth she) your courtly knax.
Mistresse (quoth he) come, to the court ye must goe,
The Lion hath commaunded so in deede,
Sir Tod (quoth she) go you and your felloe,
I haue respite a yeare, and yee will reede,
I cannot spell (quoth he) so God me speede:
Here is the Wolf a noble Clerke at all,
And of this message is made principall.
He is autentike and a man of age,
And he hath great practike of the chauncelery,
Let him go looke and reade your priuiledge,
And I shall stand and beare witnesse you by.
Where is thy respite (quoth the Wolf) on hie?
Sir it is here vnder my boofe well hid,
Holde vp thy heele (quoth he) and so she did.
Though he were blinded, with pride yet he presumed,
To looke downe low where that hir letter lay,
With that the mare gyrt him vpon the gums,
And strake the Hat of his head away:
Halfe out of life, lying downe there he lay.
Alas (quoth Laurence) Lupus thou art lost,
His cunning (quoth the Mare) was worth some coll.
Laurence (quoth she) wilt thou looke on my letter,
Since that the Wolf nothing thereof can win?
Nay by S. Bryde (quoth he) me thinkes it better,
To sleepe in a whole, than in a hurt skinne.
Once a scrole I fand, and this was written in,
For fiue shillings I would not lose all nor some,
Folix quem faciunt aliena pericula caucum.
With broken skalpe, & cheekes that were blouddy,
This wretched Wolf wiping them as he went,
Of amends inuenting to get remedy.
To tell the King the case was his intent,
Sir (quoth the Tod) byde still vpon this bent,
And fro your browes washe away this blood,
And take some drinke for it will do you good.
To fetch water this fraudefull Foxe fore,
Sidelong abacke as though he were sicke,
And as chaunst he met comming fro the moore,
A trip of Lambe, dauncing on a dike,
This traytour Tod this tyrant and this tikt,
The fattest of the flocke he killed haes,
And eate his fill, so to the Wolf he goes.
They dranke togither, and so there iourney takes,
Before the King, soone kneeled on their knee,
Where is the Mare? sir Tod, was contumax.
Then Laurence sayd, my Lorde, aske not mee,
Demaund of your Doctor of Diuinitie,
With his redde Cap can tell you well inough:
With that the Lion, and all the rest lough.
Tell on the case now Laurence let vs heare:
This witty Wolf, quoth he, this Clerke of age,
On your behalf he bad the Mare to appeare,
And so she alledged hir priuiledge,
Come neare and see, and you shall haue your wage.
Bycause he red hyr respit playne and wele,
Yonder red bonnet she raught him with hir heele.
The Lion sayd, by yon cap I see then,
This tale is true, who heede vnto it takes:
The greatest Clerkes are not the wysest men,
The hurt of one, happy the other makes:
As they were talking of these mery knakes,
And all the Court in mirth and in gam,
In comes the Ewe, the mother of the Lam.
Before the Iustice on hir knees she fell,
Put out hir playnt on this wise wofully:
This Harlot bore son, and this hound of hell,
Deuoured hath my Lambe full doggedly,
Within a mile, contrary to your crie,
For Gods loue my Lorde giue me the lawe,
Of this lurker: with that Laurence let draw.
Byde (quoth the Lion) limmer, let vs see,
If it be sothe the silly Yewe hath sayde,
A ha soueraigne Lord, please your grace, quoth he,
My purpose was with him for to haue playde,
And causles he fledde as he had bene affrayde.
For dreade of death ouer a hedge with mischief,
And brake his necke, thou lies, quoth she, false thief.
His death by practise may be proued [...]ith,
Thy gory gums, and thy blondy snoute,
The wooll, the flesh, it stickes in thy teeth:
That is euidence inough without doubte,
The Iustice bid choose the quest then about:
And so they did, and found that he was false,
Of murther, theft, and treason alse.
They bound him fast, the Iustice bad beliue
To giue the dome, and take of all his claes,
The Wolf that new made Doctor gan him shryne,
So forth was led, and to the Gallowes him haes,
And at the ladder foote his leaue he taes,
The Ape was hangman, and bid him soone ascend,
And trussed him vp, and thus he made his end.
Moralitie.
RIght as the miner in his mynerall,
Fayre gold with fire may from the lead wel win,
Right so vnder a Fable figurall,
Sad sentences may seeke, and after fine,
As dayly doth the Doctors of deuine,
That to our liuing full well can apply,
And paynt the matter out with Poetry.
The Lion is the world by likelynesse,
To whom bowes, both Emperour and King,
And thinks of this worlde to get increase,
Minding dayly for to get more liuing,
Some for to rule, and some to racke and ring,
Some gathereth geare, some gold, some other good,
To win this world, some worke as they were wood.
The Mare is men of good condition,
As pilgrims walking in this wildernesse,
Approuing that for right religion,
Their God only to please in euery place.
Abstract from this worldes wretchednesse,
Fighting with lust, presumption and pryde,
And from this worlde in minde are mortifide.
This Wolf I liken to sensualitie,
As when like brutall beastes we do accord,
Our mindes all to this worldes vanitie,
Liking take, and loue it as our Lord,
Flee fast therfore, if thou wilt right remord:
Then shall reason rayse, raigne and ring,
And for thy soule there is no better thing.
Hir hoofe I liken to the thought of dead,
Wilt thou remember man, that thou must die,
Thus mayst thou breake sensualities head,
And fleshly lust away fro thee shall flie,
Assoone as thou thy minde doest mortifie.
Salomons saying thou must remember herein,
Thinke on thy end, thou shalt not gladly sinne.
This Tod I lyken, to temptations,
Bringing to minde many thoughts vayne,
Assaulting man with sweete perswasions.
And ready for to trap them in a trayne,
Yet if thou set, sensualitie neare slayne,
And sodeyn death draw neare with pangs sore,
They quickly goe, and tempteth them nomore.
O mediator mercyfull and meeke,
Thou soueraigne Lord, and King celestiall,
Thy mercies most humbly we beseeke.
Vs to defende fro payne and perils all,
And helpe vs vp to thy heauenly hall,
In glory where we may see the face of God,
And thus endes, the talking of the Tod.
FINIS.
¶ The wofull tale of the playntife Dogge, agaynst the poore Sheepe, before Iustice Wolfe.
ESopt a tale puts in memory,
How that a Dogge, bicause that he was poore,
Called a sheepe to the Consistory,
For certayne bread fro him for to recouer:
A crafty Wolfe was Iudge that time, and boore
Auctoritie, and Iurisdiction,
And for the sheepe sent foorth a strayte summon.
For by the vse and course and common style,
On this maner made his citation:
I master Wolf, partlisse of fraude and guyle,
Vnder the paynes of hie suspension,
Of great cursing and interdiction.
Sir sheepe, I chardge thee, for to appeere,
And answere to Perry Dogge, before me heere.
Sir Corby Rauen, was made a parratour,
Who picked had, full many sheepes eye,
The chardge he taketh, and on the letters boure,
Summond the Sheepe before the Wolf, that he,
Peremptorly, within twoo dayes or three,
To appeare vnder the paynes in the bill,
To heare what Perry dogge, will say thee til.
The summons made before witnesse inowe,
The Rauen as to his office well offerth,
Indorsed hath the writte: and on he flewe,
The silly sheepe for sorow, durst lay no mouth on erth
Till he before the lawfull iudge apperth.
The houre of cause, whiche that iudge vsed than,
Was, when Hesperus to shewe his face began.
The Foxe was Clerke, and notary in the cause,
The Kight, and the Crow at the barre could st [...]
As Aduocates expert in the lawes,
The Dogges to pleade togither tooke in hand,
Whiche were con [...]ederate straytly in a band,
Against the sheepe for to procure sentence,
Though it were false, they had no conscience.
The Clerke called the Sheepe, and he was there,
The Aduocates on this wise could propone,
Of certayne bread worth fiue shillings or mere,
Thou owes the Dogge, of whiche the terme is go [...]
Of his owne head without Aduocate alone,
The sheepe innocently gaue answere in this case,
Here I appeale fro the Iudge, the time, the place.
This is my cause I will shewe in effect,
The lawe sayes, it is right perilous,
To enter in plea before a iudge suspect,
And you sir Wolf haue bene full odious
To me, for with your tuskes rauenous,
Haue stayne full many kinsmen of mine,
Therfore as iudge suspect, fro you I do decline.
And to be brief, of this court ye members all,
Both Assessors, Clerkes, and Aduocate,
To me and mine, are enimies mortall,
And ay hath bene as many Sheperds wate,
The place I suspect, the time is very late:
Wherefore no Iudge should sit in Consistory,
So late at euen, I you accuse for thy.
When that the Iudge on this wise was accused,
He bad the parties choose with one assent,
Two arbitrators, as in the lawe is vsed,
For to declare, and giue arbitrement,
Whether the Sheepe should answere in iudgement
Before the Wolf, and so they did agree,
Of whome the names, ye shall shortly see.
The Beare, and Brocke, the matter tooke in hand,
For to decyde, if this exception
Was of no force, or lawfully might stand.
And therevpon as Iudges they sate doune,
And helde along while disputation,
Seeking full many decrees of the lawe,
And glozes also the veritie to knaw.
Of Ciuill law volumes full many they reuolue,
The Codies and Digesters new and olde,
Contrait, prostrait argumentes they resolue,
Some obiecting, and some gan holde,
For prayer or pryce trow ye they would be controld.
But holde the glose▪ and text of the decreis,
As true Iudges, I beshrew them ay that leis.
Shortly to make an end of this debate,
The arbytratours thus they swearen playne,
The sentence giuen, and processe fulminate.
The Sheepe should passe before the Wolf againe,
And end his plea, then was he nothing fayne,
For fro this sentence could he not appeale,
Now Clerkes I aske, if this sentence were wea [...].
The sheepe againe before the Wolf appeard,
Without Aduocate, abashedly could stand,
Vp rose the Dogge, and to the Iudge thus sweard,
A summe I payd to him, before in hand,
For certaine bread, a witnesse here doth stand.
That wrongfully the sheepe doth holde the bread,
Whiche he denide, and there began to plead.
And when the sheepe this strife had contestate,
The iustice in the cause forth gan proceede,
Laurence the actes, and the processe wrate,
And thus the plea vnto the ende they speede:
This cursed court corrupted all for meede,
Against good fayth, law, and eke conscience,
For this false Dogge pronounced the sentence.
And so forthwith put it in execution,
The Wolf charged the sheepe without delay,
Vnder the paynes of interdiction,
The summe of siluer or the bread to pay.
Of this sentence, alas, what shall I say?
Whiche condemned hath the silly innocent,
And iustified the wrongfull iudgement.
The sheepe dreading more the execution,
Obeying to the sentence: he could take,
His way vnto a marchaunt of the towne,
And solde the woolle that he bore on his backe,
So bought the bread, and to the Dogge can make
Ready payment, as it commaunded was,
So naked and bare to the fielde can pas.
Moralitie.
THis selly sheepe may represent the figure,
Of poore commons that dayly are opprest,
By tyrannous men whiche settes all their cure,
By false meanes to make a wrong conquest,
In hope this present life should euer lest:
But all beguyld, they will in shorte tyme end,
And after death to lasting paynes▪ wend.
This Wolf I liken to a Shryue stout,
Which byeth a forfayte at the Kings hand,
And hath with him a cursed assise about,
And endites all the poore men vpon land,
Or if the Baylife hath layd on him his wand,
Though he were true as euer were S. Iohn,
Hangd shall he be, or with the iudge compone.
This Rauen I lyken to a false Coroner,
Whiche hath a portion of the inditement,
And passes forth before the Iusticiair,
All misdoers to bring vnto Iudgement,
But looke if he was, of any true intent,
To scrape out Iohn and wryte in Will, or Wat,
And take a brybe at both, how like ye that.
Of this false Tod of whiche I spake before,
And of this fight, what they mought signifie:
Of their nature, as now I speake no more,
But of this Sheepe and of his carefull crie,
I shall rehearse: for as I passed by,
Where that he lay, I chanced to looke downe,
And heard him make fore lamentation.
Alas (quoth he) this cursed consistory,
In middes of winter now a dayes is made,
When Boreas with blastes bitterly,
And harde frostes, the floures downe can fade,
On bankes bare now may I make no bade:
And with that woorde into a bushe he crap,
Fro colde weather, and frostes him to hap.
Quaking for colde, sore mourning ay among,
Cast vp his eye vnto the heauens hight,
And sayd, Lord God why sleeps thou so long?
Walke; and discerne my cause grounded on right,
See how I am by fraude, mastery, and slight,
Pilled full bare, and so is many a one,
Now in this worlde, right wonder wo begone.
See how this cursed sonne of couetice,
Bought hath the Lawier, and [...]ke the lawe,
Now few or none will execute Iustice:
In fault of whom the poore man is ouerthrow,
The verity suppose, the iudge it know,
He is so blinded with affection,
Without dread, for might, he lets the right go downe
Seest thou not (Lorde) this world ouerturnde is,
And who will change good Gold in Lead or Tinne,
The poore is pulled, the Lord may do no mis,
And Simony is holden for no sinne,
Now is he glad with craft that most may winne:
Good neighbourhood is slaine, and pitty is ago,
Alas (good Lord) why lets thou it be so?
Thou lets it thus be for our great offence,
Thou sendes vs trouble, and plagues sore,
As hunger, dearth, great warre, or pestilence,
But fewe amendes now their life therefore,
We poore people as now may do no more,
But pray to thee, since that we are opprest,
Here in this earth, graunt vs in heauen good rest.
FINIS.
¶ The exemplatiue tale of the Lion and the Mouse: With the Authors Prologue before.
IN mids of Iune, that sweete season,
Whē that fayre Phebus with his beames bright,
Had dryed vp the dew, fro dale and downe,
And al the land [...]ade with his beames light,
In a morning betwixt midday and night,
I rose, and put all slouth and sleepe aside,
And to a wood I went, alone without guyde.
Sweete was the smell of floures white and redde,
The noyse of byrdes right delicious,
The Beuis [...]ong right aboue my head,
The ground growing with grasse gratious,
Of all pleasaunce that place was plenteous,
With sweete odours, and byrdes hatmony,
The mornyng milde, my mirth was more for thy.
The Roses redde growing on bankes could ryse,
The Prymerose, Violet purple and blake,
To heare it was a heauenly Paradise,
Such myrth the Mauis, and the Merle could make,
The blossoms braue, brake vp in banke and brake,
The smell of hearbes and of the fowles cry,
Contending who should haue the victory.
Me to conserue fro the Sunnes heate,
Vnder the shadow of a Hawthorne greene,
I layde me downe among the floures sweate,
So cladde my head, and closed both myne eyne,
On sleepe I fell among these byrdes fine,
And in my dreame me thought came through the feld,
The fayrest man that euer I beheld.
His gowne was of a cloth as whyte as milke,
His Iacket was of chamlet purpure browne,
His hood of Scarlet brod [...]red well with silke,
And hangyng wise vnto his girdle downe,
His bonnet rounde of the olde fashion,
His bearde was whyte, his eyne were great and gray,
With lockes of heares, which on his shoulders lay.
A roll of paper in his hand he bare,
A Swans penne stickyng vnder his eare,
An inkehorne with a pretty gilt pennayre,
A bagge of silke all at his gyrdle beare,
Thus was he goodly girded in his geare,
Of statu [...]e large, and with a fearfull face,
Euen where I lay he came a sturdy pace.
And sayd God speede my sonne: and I was fayne,
Of that good woorde and of his company,
With reuerence, I answerd him agayne,
Welcome father: and he sate downe me by,
Displease you not my good master, though I,
Demaund your byrth, your faculty and nome,
Why ye come here, or where ye dwell at home.
My sonne (sayd he) I am of gentill bloud,
My natiue land is Rome withouten nay,
In that towne first to the scholes I yeude▪
In ciuill lawe studied full many a day,
And now my wonning is in heauen for ay,
Esope I hight, my writyng and my warke,
Is kend and knowen to many a cunning clarke.
O master Esope Poete Lawreat,
God wote [...]e are full decre welcome to me,
Are ye not he that all the Fables wrate,
Whiche in effect suppose they fayned be,
Are full of prudence and Moralitie?
Fayre Sonne (sayd he) I am the self same man,
God wote if that my hart was mery than.
I sayd, Esope my master venerable,
I you beseech most intierly,
Ye would not deyne to tell a prety fable,
Concluding with a good Moralitie.
Shaking his head, he sayd, my sonne let be,
What doth it profite to tell a fayned tale,
When holy preachyng may nothing auayle?
Now in this worlde my thinke right few or non,
Vnto Gods worde that hath deuotion,
The eare is deaf [...], the hart is hard as ston,
Now open sinne without any correction,
The hart enclining to the earth adowne,
So rusted is this world with canker blake,
That now my tales may little succour make.
Yes gentle sir (sayd I) for my request,
Not to displease your fatherhead, I pray,
Vnder the figure of some brutall beast,
A morall Fable that ye would dayne to say,
Who knoweth, not I may learne and beare away,
Something thereby, hereafter may auayle?
I graunt (quoth he) and thus begins his tale.
The ende of the Prologue, and here begins the Tale.
A Lion at his pray was ouerrunne,
To recreate his limmes and to rest,
Beking his breast and belly at the Sunne,
Vnder a tree lay in the fayre forrest:
Then comes there a trip of myce out of their nest,
Right mery and glad, all daunsing in their guise,
And ouer the Lion vaulted twise or thryse.
He lay so still, the Myse weare not afeard,
But to and fro, ore him tooke their trace,
Some twirled at the muchachos of his beard,
And some spared not to clawe him on the face,
Merry and glad thus daunced they a space,
Till at the last, the noble Lion wooke,
And with his paw, the master mouse he tooke.
She gaue a crie, and all the rest agast,
Their dauncing left, and hyd them soone elswhere,
She that was tane, cried and wept full fast,
And sayd, alas, the time that I came here,
Now am I tane a wofull prysonere,
And for my gilte, must byde incontinent,
Of life or death to heare the iudgement.
Then spake the Lion to that carefull mous,
Thou caytife wretch, and vile vnworthy thing,
Ouer malapert and eke presumptuous,
Thou wert to make out ouer me thy tripping:
Knewest thou not I was both Lord and King,
Of beasts all, yes, quoth the mouse, I know,
But I wist not bicause y [...] lay so lowe.
Lord I beseech thy kingly royalty,
Heare what I say, and take in patience,
Consider first my simple pouertie,
And then thy might and hie magnificence:
See also how things done of negligence,
Neither of malice, nor of presumption,
The rather should haue grace and remission.
We were replete, and had great aboundance
Of all things such as to vs belonged,
The sweete season prouoked vs to daunce,
And make such myrth as nature to vs [...]earned,
Ye lay so still as though ye had bene strangled,
That by my soule we wend ye had bene dead,
Els would we not haue daunced ore your head.
Thy false excuse, the Lion sayd agayne,
Shall not auayle one whit I to thee say,
I put the case I had bene dead or slayne,
And so my skinne bene stopped full of hay,
Though thou had found my figure in the way,
Bicause it bare the print of my persone,
Thou shouldst for feare on knees haue falen downe.
For thy trespas thou can make no defence,
My noble person this to vilepend,
Of thy fellows, nor thy owne negligence,
For to excuse thou can no cause pretend,
Therefore thou suffer shalt a shamefull end,
And death, such as to treason is decreed,
Vpon the gallowes all hanged but the head▪
Nay mercy Lord, now at thy grace I aske,
As thou art King of all beasts coronate,
Asswage thy wrath, and let it ouerpasse,
And make thy minde to mercy inclinate,
I graunt offence is done to thyne estate,
Wherefore I worthy am as now to die,
But if thy kingly mercy pardon me▪
In euery Iudge mercy and ruth should [...]e,
As assessors, and Colaterall,
Without mercy iustice is cruelty,
As sayed is in the lawes speciall,
When rigour sittes in the trybunall,
The equitie of law who may susteyne?
Right few or none, least mercy go betweene.
Also ye know the honour triumphall,
Of all victory, vpon the strength depends,
Of his conquest, whiche manfully in battell,
Throwe ieopardy of warre long defends,
What pryce or prayse when the battayle ends,
Is sayd of him that ouercomes one man,
Himselfe to defend, whiche neyther may nor can.
A thousand myse to kill and eke deuoure,
Is litle manhood to a strong Lion,
Full little worship shall ye winne therefore,
To whose strength is no comparison:
It will appayre some part of your renoume,
To slay a mouse, whiche may make no defence,
But asking mercy at your excellence.
Also it seemes, not your celfitude,
Whiche vses dayly meates delicious,
To file your teeth or lippes with any bloud,
Whiche to your stomacke is contagious,
Vnholsome meate also, is a sory mous,
And that namely vnto a strong Lion,
Wont to be fedde with gentill venison.
My life is little warth, my death is lesse.
Yet and I li [...]e, I may p [...]raduenture,
Supply your highnesse being in distresse,
For oft is seene a man of small stature,
Rescued hath a Lord of great honour,
That was beset and in poynt ouerthrowne,
[...]hrow misfortune, such case may be your owne.
When this was sayd, the Lion his language,
Pawsed, and thought according to reason,
And made mercy his cruell yre asswage,
And to the mouse graunted remission:
Opened his paw, and she on knees fell downe,
And both hir hands vnto the heauen heild,
Crying almighty God your grace euer sheild.
When she was gone, the Lion went to hunt,
For he had naught but liued by his pray,
And slewe both tame and wilde as he was wont,
And in the countrey, made many a great fray,
Till at the last the people fond the way,
This cruell Lion how that they mought take.
So of Hempon cordes strong nets can they make.
And in a lane where be was wont to ryn,
With ropes rude fro tree to tree they hing,
So cast a ring without wood and within,
With hornes fast blowing, and hounds crying,
The Lion fledde, and throw the lane running,
Fell in the net, and so caught by chaunce,
For all his strength could make no resistaunce.
Weltring about with hideous roring,
While to, while fro, while he might succour get,
But all in vayne, it auayled him nothing,
The more he flong the faster was the net,
The ropes rude were so fast about him set,
On euery side, that succour saw he none,
But still lying, and mourning made his mone.
O lamentable Lion lying here so law,
Where is the might of thy magnificence?
Of whom al brutall beasts in earth stoode aw,
And dread to looke vpon thy excellence,
Without hope, or help, without succour or de [...]ence,
In bandes strong here must I lie (alace)
Till I be slayne I see no other grace.
There is no wight that will my harmes wreke,
Nor Creature, do comfort to my crowne,
Who shall me help? who shall my bands breake?
Who shall me put fro payne of this prisoun?
By that he had made this lamentation,
Through aduenture the little Mouse come by,
And of the Lion heard the wofull cry.
And suddenly it came in till hir minde,
That it should be the Lion by his close,
And sayd now were I false, and right vnkind,
But I quite of his goodnesse some part, I suppose
Thou did to me, and on hir wayes she goes,
To hir fellowes, and on them fast can crie,
Come help, come help, and they came by and by.
Lo (quoth the mouse) this is the same Lion,
That grace graunted me when I was tane anon,
And now is fast here bounden in pryson,
Breaking his hart with great mourning and mone,
Without we him help, of succour wotes he none,
Come helpe to quite one good turne for another,
And lose him quickly: they answered yea good brother.
They tooke no knife, their teeth were sharpe inough:
To see that sight, forsoth it was great wounder,
How that they ran among the ropes tough,
Before, behinde, some aboue, some vnder,
And shore the ropes of the net in sunder,
Then had him rise, and he start vp anon,
And thanked them, so on his way is gone.
Now is the Lion free from all daunger,
Loose and deliuered to his libertie,
By little beasts, and of simple power,
As ye haue heard, bicause he had pittie,
(Quoth I master) is there a Moralitie,
Of this fable? yea Sonne (he sayd) right good,
I pray you sir then, (quoth I) conclude.
Moralitie.
AS I suppose this mighty gay Lion,
May signifie a Prince or Emperour,
Any potestate, or any King with crowne,
Whiche should be captayne, guyde and gouernour,
Of his people that takes no labour,
To rule, and stere, the land, and iustice keepe,
Without lying still in lustes, flouth, and sleepe.
The fayre forrest with leaues freshe to see,
With foules singing, and floures fayre and sweete,
Is but the worlde and his prosperitie,
As false pleasaunce mingled, and care replete,
Right as the Rose, with frost and winter wete,
Fades, so doth the world and them desaue,
Whiche in their lustes most confidences haue.
These little myse are but the commontie,
Wanton, vnwise, without correction,
Their Lordes, and Princes, when that they see,
Of Iustice make no execution,
They dread nothing to make rebellion,
And disobey: for why, they stande in no awe,
That makes them, their soueraigne not to knaw.
By this Fable ye Lordes of prudence,
May consider the vertue of pietie,
And to remit sometime a great offence,
And mitigate with mercy, crueltie,
Ofttimes is seene a man of small degree,
Hath quitte a King eyther with good or ill,
As the Lord hath done, rigour or grace him till.
Who knoweth not, how soone, a Lord of gret renown
Rowling in worldly lust and vayne pleasaunce,
May be ouerthrowen, destroyde, and put downe,
Through false fortune? which of all variaunce,
Is hole mistresse and leader of the daunce,
To vniust men, and blindes them so sore,
That they no perill can prouide before.
These rurall men that hanged hath the net,
In which the Lion suddenly was throwne:
Wayted alway amendes for to get,
(For hurt men, wrytes in the marble stone)
More to expound, as now I let alone,
Both King & Lorde may well know what I meene,
The figure hereof, ofttimes hath bene seene.
When this was sayd (quoth Esope) my fayre childe,
I thee beseeke, and all men for to pray,
That treason of this countrey be exilde,
And Iustice raigne, and Lordes keepe their say,
Vnto their soueraigne Prince both night and day:
And with that woorde he vanisht, and I wooke,
So through the wood my iourney when I tooke.
FINIS.
The notable tale of the preaching of the Swallow.
THe hie prudence, and working maruelous,
The profound witte of God omnipotent,
Is so persite, and so ingenious,
Excellent farre, aboue mans iudgement,
For why to him all things are ay present,
Right as it is or any tyme shalbe,
Before the sight of his Diuinitie.
Therefore our soules with sensualitie.
So settred are in this pryson corporall,
We may not clearly vnderstand nor see,
God, as he is, nor things Calestiall,
Our darke and deadly corps naturall,
Blindeth the spirituall operation,
Like as a man were bounde in pryson.
In metaphislcke Aristotle doth say,
That mans soule is like a backes eye,
Whiche lurketh still as long as light of day,
And in the twylight commeth forth to flie,
Hir eyes are weake, the sunne she may not see,
So is our soule with fantasie opprest,
To know the things in nature manifest.
For God is in his power infinite,
And mans soule is feeble and ouer small,
Of vnderstanding weake and vnperfect,
To comprehend him that contaynes all:
None should presume by reason naturall,
To search the secretes of the Trinitie,
But beleeue firmely, and let vayne reasons be.
Yet neuerthelesse we may haue knowledging,
Of God almighty, by his creatures,
That he is good, fayre, wise and benigne,
Example take by these iolly stoures,
Right sweete of smell, and pleasaunt of collours,
Some greene, some blew, some purple, white, & redde,
Thus distributed by gifte of his godhed.
The firmament paynted with Starres cleare,
From east to west rolling in cirkle round,
And euery planet in his proper Spheire,
In morning making harmony and sound,
The fire, the ayer, the water, and the ground,
To vnderstand is inough iwis,
That God in all his workes witty is.
Looke well on the fish that in the seas be,
Looke well in the earth all kinde of beastiall,
The foules fayre so forcely they flee,
Parting the ayre with winges great and small,
Then looke to man, that he made last of all,
Like to his Image, and his similitude,
By this we know that God is faire and gude.
All Creatures he made for the behoue,
Of man and to his supportation,
In this earth, both vnder and aboue,
In number, weight, and due proportion,
The difference of time and eche season,
Concordant to our oportunitie,
As dayly by experience wee may see,
The Sommer with his iolly mantell of greene,
With floures fayre to furre it, him hath sent,
Whiche Flora Goddesse of the floures Queene,
Hath to that Lord as for his season lent,
And Phebus with his golden beames gent,
Hath purfelled and painted pleasantly,
With heate, and moysture, stilling fro the sky.
Then Haruest hote, when Ceres that Goddesse,
Hir Barnes blessed hath with aboundaunce,
And Bacchus God of wines renued hes,
The tonne pipes, in Italy and Fraunce,
With wines wight, and lycours of pleasaunce,
And Copia temporis to fyll his horne,
That neuer was full of wheat, nor other corne.
Then comes winter wanne, when austerne Eolus,
God of the winde with blastes boreall,
The greene garment of Summer glorious,
Hath all to rent, and reuen in peeces small,
Then floures fayre faded with frastes, must fall,
And birdes iocond changing their notes sweete,
Still mourning, neare slayne with snow & sleate.
The dales deepe with snow drowned is,
Both hill and holt beled with frostes hoore,
And Larkes bene left bare of any blis,
By wicked windes of the winter woore,
All wilde beasts then from the fields frore,
Drawes for dread vnto their dennes deepe,
Couching for colde in hooles them to keepe.
After comes Ver, when winter is away,
The Secretary of Sommer with his cell,
When Columbine vp peares through the clay,
Whiche fled was before with frostes fell,
The Mauis, and the Metle, begins to meil,
The Larkes on loft, with other byrdes theyr sowne,
They spred abrode ouer dale and downe.
That same season in a fayre morning,
Right glad that bitter blasles neare ago,
Vnto the wood to see the flowers spring,
And heare the Mauis sing and byrdes mo,
I passed forth, and looking to and fro,
To see the soyle, that was right sesonable,
Sappie, and to receyue all seedes able.
Thus passing on great myrth I tooke in minde,
Of laborers to see the businesse,
Some making dikes, and some the plough can winde,
Some sowing seedes fast fro place to place,
The Harrowes hopping in the furrowes trace,
It was great ioy for him that loues corne,
To see them labour both at euen and morne.
And as I went along a banke thereby,
In hart greatly reioysing of that sight,
Vnto an hedge, vnder a Hawthorne hie,
Of small birdes there came a great flight,
And downe quickly on the leaues light,
On euery side about me where I stoode,
Right maruellous and a great multitude.
Among the whiche a Swallow loude can cry,
On that Hawthorne hie in the toppe sitting,
O ye birdes all heare me by and by,
Ye shall well know, and ye will ponder one thing,
Where daunger is or perill appearing,
It is great wisedome to prouide before,
It to auoyde for feare it hurt you more.
Sir swallow (quoth the Larke againe) and lough,
What haue ye seene, that causeth you to dread?
See ye yonder churle, quoth she, beyonde you plough,
Fast sowing hempe, and good Line seede:
Yonder lint will grow in little time in deede,
And thereof will this churle his nettes make,
Vnder the whiche he thinkes vs to take.
Therefore my counsell is when that he is gone,
At euen, and with our nayles sharpe and small,
Out of the earth scrape that seede anone,
And eate it vp, for if it growes we shall,
Haue cause to weepe hereafter one and all,
See we remedy it with Instante,
Nam leuius laedit quicquid preuidimus ante.
For Clerkes sayes, it is not sufficient,
To consider that is before thine eye,
But prudence is an inward argument,
That makes a man, prouide and fore see,
What good, what euill, is lyke for to be,
Of euery thing behold the finall ende,
And so from perill, the better him defend.
The Larke laughing thus the Swallow to scorne,
Sayd she fisht long before the net,
The childe is soone broke that is vnborne,
All groweth not that in the ground is set,
The necke to stoupe when it the stroke shall get,
Is soone inough: death on thee fast fall,
Thus mocked they the Swallow one and all.
Despising thus hir holsome document,
The fowles forthwith tooke their flight anon,
Some with their make into the field went:
And some againe are to the greene wood gon,
Thus vnder the tree they left me alone,
I tooke my clubbe, and homeward colde it cary,
As fearefully as I had seene some Fayry.
Thus passing forth while Iune that iolly tide,
And seedes that were sowen earst beforne,
Were growen hie, that Hares might them hide,
And also the Quayles craking in the corne,
I moued forth betwixt midday and morne,
Vnto the hedge vnder the Hauthorne greene,
Where I before, the foresayd birdes had seene.
And as I stoode by aduenture and case,
The same birdes as I haue sayd you ere,
I hope, bicause it was their haunting place,
More of succour, or yet more solitaire,
They light adowne: and when they lighted were,
The Swallow againe put forth a piteous pime,
And sayd, woe is him cannot beware in time.
O blinde byrdes and full of negligence,
Vnmindefull of your owne prosperitie,
Lift vp your sight and take good aduertence,
Looke to that lint that growes on yond le,
That same is the thing forsoth, that we,
As I sayd earst, should roote out and kill,
Now is it lint: we can do it none ill.
Go yet while it is tender and small,
And pull it vp, let it no more increase,
My hart grones, my body quakes with all,
Thinking on it I may not sleepe in peace,
They cried all, and bad the Swallow cease,
And sayd yonder lint hereafter will do good,
For lyne seedes to little birdes are foode.
We thinke when that yonder lint seede is ripe,
To make vs feasts and fill vs with the seed,
Mauger the churle, and on it sing and peepe,
Well (quoth the Swallow) friends hardly beet,
Do as ye will, but certayne sore I dread,
Hereafter ye shall finde all sowre, and not sweete,
When ye are spitted on the churles spitte.
The owner of yond lint a fowler is,
Right crafty, and full of subtilty,
His pray full seldome time will he mis,
But if we birdes all, the warer be,
Full many of our kinne he hath causde to die,
And thought it but a sport to spill theyr blood,
God keepe me fro him, and the holy roode.
These small birdes hauing but litle thought,
Of perill that might fall by aduenture,
The counceil of the Swallow set at nought,
But tooke their flight and forth togither fure,
Some to the wood, some marched to the moure,
I tooke my staffe, when this was sayd and done,
And walked home for it drew neare to none.
The Lint riped, the Carle puld the lyne,
Rippilt the bowels, and in boundles it set,
It steeped in water and dryed it fine,
And with a betell knocked it, and bet,
So swingled it well and hekled it in the flet,
His wife it span, and twinde it into threede,
Of which the fowler nettes made in deede.
The Winter come, the wicked winde can blow,
The woodes greene were faded with the weate,
All things decayde with frostes and with snow,
Puddles and lakes made sliddery with sleate,
The fowles fayre for fault they fall on feate,
On bowes bare it was no boote to byde,
But hied them to houses them to hyde.
Some in the barne, some in the stake of corne,
Theyr lodging tooke and made theri residence,
The fowler saw, and great othes hath sworne,
They should be tane truly for theyr expence,
His nettes then he set with great diligence,
And in the snow he showled hath a playne,
And heled it all ouer with chaf agayne.
These small byrdes seyng this chaf were glad,
Thinkyng it had bene corne, they lited downe,
But of the nettes no inkling they had,
Nor of the fowlers false intention,
To scrape & seeke their meate they made them bowne,
The Swallow on a little branch neare by,
Dreading some guyle, thus lowd to them can cry.
Into that chaf scrape whiles your nayles bleede,
There is no corne ye labour all in vayne,
Trowe ye yond churle for pitty will you feede,
Na, na, he hath it here layde for a trayne,
Remoue I reade you, or els ye wil be slayne,
His nettes he hath set full priuily,
Reddy to draw: in tyme beware, or ye die.
Great folies in him that puts in daunger,
His life, his honour, for a thing of nought,
Great follies in him, that will not gladly heare,
Counsell in time, while it auayle him mought.
Great folies in him, that hath nothing in thought,
But things present: and after what may fall,
Nor of the ende hath no memoriall.
These small birdes for hunger famisht neare,
Full busily scraping for to seeke their foode,
The counsell of the Swallow would not heare,
Suppose their labour did them litle good.
When she their foolish hartes vnderstood
So indurate, vp in a tree she flewe,
With that this churle ouer them his nettes drew,
Alas it was great pitty for to see,
That bloudy Boucher to beate the birdes downe,
And ah to heare, when they wist well to die,
Their carefull crie and lamentation,
Some with a staffe he strake to earth on fowne:
Of some the head he strake, of some he brake the crag:
Some halfe on liue he stopt into his bagge.
And when the Swallow saw that they were dead,
Lo (quoth she) these chances do arise,
On them that will not take councell nor head,
Of prudent men, or Clerkes that are wise,
This great perill I tolde them more than thryse:
Now are they dead, wo is me therefore,
She tooke hir flight, and I saw hir no more.
Moralitie.
LO worthy folke, Esope that noble Clerke,
A poet worthy to be Lawreate,
When he had leasure, from more autentike werke,
With other mo, this forsayd fable wrote,
Whiche at this time may well be applicate,
To very good morall edification,
Hauing ay sentence according to reason.
This carle, and bond of gentry spoliate,
Sowing this chaf, the small byrdes to sla,
It is the fende, whiche fro the angelike state,
Exiled was as false Apostata,
Whiche day and night werieth not to ga,
Sowing poyson in euery wicked thought,
In mans soule, which Christ ful deere hath bought.
And when the soule, as into earth the seede,
Giues consent vnto delectation,
Then wicked thoughts begins for to breede,
In deadly, sinne whiche is damnation,
Reason is blinded with affection,
And carnall lust, growes full greene and gay,
Through consuetude haunted from day to day.
Proceeding foorth by vse and consuetude,
Then sinne ripes, and shame is set aside,
The feende makes his nettes sharp and rude,
And vnder pleasaunce priuily them hide,
Then on the field he soweth chaf full wide,
Whiche is but drosse and very vanitie,
Of fleshly lust and vayne prosperitie.
These little hirdes, wretches we may call,
Still scraping in this worldes vayne pleasaunce,
Greedy to gaher goodes temporall,
Which as the chaffe or drosse without substaunce,
Little of auayle, and full of variaunce,
Like to the dust, before the blast of winde,
Which whisks away and maketh wretches blinde.
This Swallow whiche scaped is the snare,
The holy preacher well may signifie,
Exhorting folke to walke and ay beware,
From the nettes of our wicked enimie,
Who sleepeth not but euer is ready,
When wretches in this world chaffe do scrape,
To draw his net, then they may not escape.
Alas what care, what weeping is and woe,
When soule and body departed are in twayne?
The body to the wormes kitchin doth goe,
The soule to fire to euerlasting payne,
What helpes then this chaffe, these goodes vayne,
When thou art put to Lucifers hyre,
And brought to Hell, and hangd in the fyre?
These hid nettes for to perceyue and see,
And this sory chaffe, is wise vnderstanding:
Best is beware in most prosperitie,
For in this world there is nothing lasting,
There is noman certayne how long shalbe his being,
How long his life shall last, nor how shalbe his end:
Nor after his death whether he shall wend.
Pray we therefore whyle we are in this life,
For foure things: the first, fro sinne remoue,
The second is, fro all warre and strife,
The third is, perfect charitie and loue,
The fourth thing is and most for our behoue,
That is in blisse with Angels to be fellow,
And thus endeth the preachyng of the Swallow.
FINIS.
¶ The mery tale of the wolf, that woldshaue had, the Neckhering through the wyles of the Foxe, thnt beguiled the Carrier.
WHylom there wound in a wildernes,
(As mine Author expresly can declare)
A rauenyng Wolf, that liued vpon purches,
On all beasts and made him well to fare,
Was none so bigge, about him he would spare,
And he weare hongry, other for fauour or fayth,
But in his wrath, he weried them to death.
So happened him in rouing as he went,
To meete a Foxe in mids of the way,
Laurence him first sawe and feard to be shent,
And with a beke, he bad the Wolf good day,
Welcome to me (quoth he) thou russet gray,
So bowed he downe, and tooke him by the hand,
Rise vp Laurence I giue thee leaue to stand.
Where hast thou bene this long out of my sight?
Thou shalt beare office, and my steward be,
For thou can knap downe Capons in the night,
And lurking lowe thou can make hennes die,
Sir (sayd the Foxe) that agrees not for me,
And I am redde, if they see me afarre,
At my figure, beast and birdes will skarre.
Nay (quoth the Wolf) thou can in couert creepe,
Vpon thy belly, and catch them by the head,
And make a sudden showe vpon a sheepe,
So with thy weapons weary him to dead,
Sir (sayd the Foxe) ye know my robe is read,
And therefore there will no beast abide me,
Though I would be so false as for to hide me.
Yes (quoth ye Wolf) through hedge & through bush,
Low can thou bowe to come to thine intent,
Sir (sayd the Foxe) ye wote well how I pushe,
And long fro them they will feele my sent,
Then will they escape, suppose I should be shent,
And I am ashamde to come behind them,
Into the field though I should sleeping find them.
Nay, quoth the Wolf, thou can come on the winde,
For euery wrinke forsooth thou hast a wyle,
Sir, sayd the Fox, that beast ye might call blinde,
That might not scape then fro me a mile,
How might I one of them that wayes beguyle?
My tipped two eares, and my two grey eyne,
Makes me be knowen, where I was neuer seene.
Then, sayd the Wolf, Laurence I heare thee lie,
And castes for perrlis thy doings to defend,
But all thy sayings shall not auayle thee,
About the bush with wayes though thou wend,
Wyly wil beguile himself at the latter end,
To bowe at bidding, and bide not while thou brest,
Therefore I giue thee councell for the best.
Sir, sayd the Fox, it is now Lent ye see,
I cannot fishe for weting of my feet,
To take a banstakle, though we both should die,
I haue no other craft to winne my meate,
But were it Easter that men should pultry eat,
As Kies, Lambe, or Capons then to ply,
To beare your office I would full gladly.
Thē, sayd the Wolf, in wrath weenst thou wt wyles,
And with thy many mockes me to mate,
It is an old dogge doubtlesse that thou beguiles:
Thou thinkes to draw the straw before the cat.
Sir, sayd the Foxe God wote I meane not that,
For and I did, it weare well donne that yee,
In a hempen halter had tied me to a tree.
But now I see he is a foole parfay,
That with his master falles in resoning,
I did but feele what that ye would say,
God wote my minde was on another thing,
I shall fulfill in all things your bidding,
What euer ye chardge me other night or dayes,
Well (quoth the Wolf) I heare thee what thou sayes.
But yet I will, thou make to me an othe,
For to be true at all times and tyde,
Sir (sayd the Foxe) let no worde make ye wroth,
For now I see that you haue me in dread,
Yet shall I sweare suppose it be nought neade:
By Iupiter, and on payne of my head,
I shall be true to you, whyle I be dead.
With that a Carrier with pannier and creyles,
Came singing forward: and Laurence could him spie?
The Foxe the smell of the fresh herring feeles,
And to the Wolf he roundes priuely
Sir yonder are herring the carrier carries by,
Therefore my counsell is to see for some wayes,
To get some fishe against these fasting dayes.
Since I am steward, I would we had some stuffe,
And ye are siluer sicke, I know right weel,
Though we would begge, yond very churlist chuffe,
He will not giue vs a herryng of his creell,
Before the churle on knees though we would kneele,
But yet I trow full quickly ye shall see,
If I can craft to bleare the carles eye.
Sir, one thing is, and we get of you pelf,
Ye must take trauayle and diligent be,
For he that will not labour, and help himself,
In these dayes he is not worth a flee,
For I thinke to worke as busie as a bee,
And ye shall follow a little afterwart,
And gather vp herring, and that shalbe your part.
With that he cast a compasse farre about,
And layde him downe in mids of the way,
As he weare dead he feynd without doubte,
And then all a long vnlikely he lay,
The white he turned vp of his eyne tway,
His tong out hange a handbreath of his head,
And still he lay, as stife as he were dead.
The Carrier found the Foxe and he was fayne,
And to him selfe thus softly can he say,
At the next bayte in faith ye shal be flayne
And of your skinne, I shall make mittens tway,
He lept full lighty aboute him where he lay,
And all the trace he tript on his toes,
As he had hard a piper play he goes.
Heare lieth the Deuill, quoth he, as big as a hogge,
Such a fellon saw I not this seuen yeare,
I trow ye haue bene tyred with some dogge,
That makes you lie so still withouten steare,
Sir Foxe in faith you are well welcome heare,
It is some wines blessing as farre as I know,
For poultry picking that light on you I trowe.
There shall no pedler for purse ne yet for gloues,
Nor yet for points picke your pelft from me.
I shall of it make coufes to my loues,
To keepe my handes warme where ere I be,
To Flaunders shall it neuer sayle the sea,
With that in hy he tooke him by the heels,
And with one swage he flange him on his creels.
So by the head the horse in hast he tooke,
The Foxe that saw, as crafty theefe alone,
And with his teeth the stopple out he shooke,
And so the herryng threw out one by one,
Out of the creels he threw them downe anon,
The Wolf was ware, and tooke vp speedily,
The Carrier sang, hunt is vp, vp vpon hie.
Yet at a brooke the Carrier lokt aboute,
With that the Foxe lept quyte the creels fra,
The Carrier would haue raught the Fox a rout,
But all for nought, he wan his spurs that day,
Then with a shoute thus can the Carrier say,
Abide, and of neckherring shalt haue best,
Is worth my horse, the creels, and all the rest.
Now, quoth the Foxe, I shrew me and we meet,
I hard what thou hight to do with my skinne,
Thy hands shall neuer in thy coufes heet,
And thou weare hanged carle and all thy kinne,
Do forth thy market by me thou shalt not winne,
And sell thy herring thou hast there, for hie pryce,
Els thou shalt winne nought on thy marchandice.
The Carrier trembled for anger as he stood,
I am well worthy (quoth he) to lose yond tike,
That had nought in my hand to do so much good,
As staffe or sticke, this fellon for to strike:
With that he lightly lept out ouer the dike,
And cut downe a staffe, for he was angry,
That heauy was, and of the greene holly.
With that the Foxe vnto the Wolf could go,
And fond him by the herrings where he lies,
Sir (sayd he then) haue I not playde the shrow:
A wight man wanted neuer and he were wife,
A hardy hart his hande for to supprise,
(Than sayd the Wolf) thou art a barne full bold,
And wise at will, in good time be it tolde.
But what was that the Carle cried on hie,
And shooke his hand, quoth he, didst thou not here?
Sir (sayd the Fox) that can I tell truly,
He sayd his neck herrings were in there,
Knowes thou that herryng: ye sir with good chere,
And at the creele mouth I had thryce without doubt,
The weyght whereof neare pluckt my tuskes out.
Now sothly sir, might we that herring haue,
It would be fish to vs these forty dayes:
(Then sayd the Wolf) now so God me saue,
But to be there I would giue all my clayes,
To see if that my weapons might it rayes,
Sir (sayd the Foxe) God wote I wisht you ofte,
When that my strength might not beare it alofte.
It is a side of Salmon as it were,
And coloured much like the Partrich eye,
It is worth all the herrings ye haue there,
Yee and wee had it sir, is it worth such three,
Then, sayd the Wolf, what counsell giues thou me?
Sir, sayd the Foxe, worke after my reede,
And ye shall haue it, and take ye no dreede.
First ye must cast a compasse farre about,
So lay you downe in middes of the way,
Both head, feete, and tayle, ye must stretch out,
Hang forth your tong, and cloze your eyne tway,
And see your head, on a harde place ye lay,
And doubte ye no perill, that may appeere,
But hold you close, when that the Carle comes neere.
And though ye see a staffe haue ye no doubte,
But holde you wounders still, in that steede,
And looke your tyne be close as they were out,
And see that ye shrinke neyther foote, nor head,
Then will the hoorson Carle trow ye be dead,
And so in hast, will take you by the heeles,
As he did me, and swinge you in his creeles.
Now, quoth the Wolfe, I sweare thee by my thrift,
I feare the Carrier carle he will me beare:
Sir, sayd the Foxe, on lofte he will you lift,
Vpon his creeles, and do him little deare:
But one thing sothly I dare to you sweare,
Get ye that herring in some place sicker,
Ye shall not neede go a fishing more while Easter.
I shall say in principio ouer you,
And crosse your corps fro top to the fa,
Wend when you will I dare warrant you,
That ye shall die no sudden death this day.
With that the Wolfe girt him vp, and away,
And cast a compasse before the Carrier farre,
So layd him downe in the way, or he came na [...]e.
He layd the side of his head both hard and sadde,
So stretcht his forefeete fro him and his head,
And hang his tong forth as the Foxe him bad,
Also still he lay as he had bene dead,
Caring nothing of the Carles fauour nor fewd:
But euer vpon the neckherring he thinkes,
And quite forgets the Foxe and all his wrinkes.
With that the Carrier wauering as the winde,
Came riding on the lode for it was light,
Thinking on the Foxe that was behinde,
Vpon what wise, reuenged on him he might,
And at the last on the Wolfe he hath the sight,
Where be in length lay stretched in the gate,
But if he lighted downe, or not, God wate.
Softly he sayd, I was beguyled once,
Be I beguyld twice. I be shrewe vs bathe,
That euill now shall light vpon thy bones,
He should haue had it that hath done me the skath,
On hie he lifted the staffe for he was wrath,
And [...]it him with such will vpon the head,
That we [...]neere he sowned to the dead.
Three battes he bore, or he his feete might finde,
But yet the Wolf was wight and ran away,
He might not see, he was so very blinde,
Nor wit readily whether it were night or day.
The Foxe beheld that seruice where he lay,
And le [...]ght aloft, when he the Wolf so sees,
Both deafe and stonnishst, fall sowning on his knees.
He that with reason cannot be content,
But couetes all, is likely all to lose:
The Foxe when that he saw the Wolf was shent,
Sayd to himself, these herrings with me goes,
I lye, or els he after got blowes,
That found such wayes his maister for to greeue,
With all the fish thus Laurence tooke his leeue.
The Wolf he was, welneere done to dead,
That vneth with his life away he ran▪
With the Bastianado, broken was his head,
The Foxe into his denne soone drew him than,
That had betrayed his maister, and the man,
The one wanted the herrings out of his creeles,
The others bloud it ranne downe by his heeles.
Moralitie.
THis tale is mingled with Moralitee,
As I shall shew somewhat or that I cease,
The Foxe, vnto the world may li [...]ned [...]ee▪
The rauening Wolfe vnto man, but lease
The Carrier death, whom all men do oppresse,
That euer tooke life, through course of kinde must die,
As man and beast, and fowles aloft that flie.
The world ye wo [...]e, is steward to the man,
Whiche maketh him haue no minde of dead,
But settes for winnyng all the craftes be [...]an▪
The herring, I liken vnto the gold so r [...]ad,
Whiche made the Wolfe in perill put his [...]ead,
Right so the golde, maketh [...]andes and cit [...]ies
With warre be wasted, dayly as men sees.
And as the Foxe, dissembling with guyle,
Made the Wolf weene to haue worship for euer:
Right so this worlde with [...]ayneglory for a while,
Flattereth with folke as they should die neuer▪
Yet suddenly men seeth it oft disseuer
With them, that thinkes to [...]ll at length the se [...]ke,
Death comes behind; and [...]ps them by the neeke.
The getting of golde makes many so blinde,
That settes on auari [...] theyr fe [...]citce,
That they forget the Carrier comes behinde,
To strike them off, what [...]a [...]e so ere they bee:
What is more darke than blinde prosperiter?
Wherefore, I councell [...]che men to haue minde,
Of the Neckherring, interprete in this kinde.
FINIS.
The excellent tale of the wyly Laurence Foxe, that beguylde the couetous crafty Wol [...]e, with the shadow of the Moone.
IN elder dayes as Esope can de [...]lare,
There was a husband man which had a [...]low to [...]eare,
His vse was a [...] in morning to rise rare,
So it happened him, in stirring tyme of year [...],
Early in the morning to follow forth his fear [...],
Vnto the psough only his gadman and he,
His Oxen he blessed, with Be [...]dicite.
The driuer cryed hop, ho [...] on height,
Well drawen my dow [...]es so spake them fayre,
The Oxen were lusty yong and light,
And for fearcenesse they layde the forrow for fayre:
The husbande then wore angry as a hare,
So cried and cast his pattell and great stones,
The Wolfe, quoth [...]e mought haue y [...] all at ones.
But yet the Wolfe was neerer than he wen [...],
For in a bush he lay, and▪ Laurence bathe,
Among rough sh [...]ub was at the [...]urrowes end,
And heard the height, then Laurence [...]aught full rath,
To take yo [...]d offer, quoth [...]e it were no s [...]ath:
Well, quoth the Wolfe, I hold thee her [...] my hand,
The Carles woorde, as he were king shall stand.
The Oxen waxte more rul [...] at the last,
So after they lowsed when it was somewhat late,
The husband homeward with his [...]attell p [...]st:
Then soone the Wolfe came hopping in his gate,
Before the Oxen, and shope to make debate:
The husband saw him and was somewhat agast,
And backwarde with his beasts, would haue past.
The Wolfe sayd whether dryues thou this pray?
I chaleng [...] it▪ for none of them are thine,
The ma [...] ther [...]at was in a fellon fray,
And soberly to the Wolfe, answered sine:
Sir by my soule these Oxen are all mine,
Therefore I [...]nuse, now why y [...] should stop me,
Considering I neuer, offended▪ you truly.
The Wolfe sayd Carle, didst thou not giue this drift,
Early, when thou was earing [...]n you banke?
And is ther [...] any thing mor [...] fr [...]er than gift?
This [...]arrying, will lose thee a [...] thy thank [...],
Far better [...]is freely for to giue a planke,
Nor be compelled by force, to giue a mart,
Fye on that gift, that comes not with good hart.
Sir, quoth the husband, a man may say in greefe,
A woorde and call againe, if he aduise and see,
I promise to ste [...]le, am I therefore a theefe?
God forbid si [...], all heights should holden bee,
Gaue I my hand or obligation, quoth he,
Or haue ye witnesse, or wryting here to shaw,
Sir trouble me not, but go [...] and seeke the law.
Carle, quoth the Wolf, a Lord and he be leill,
That shrinkes for shame, or doubtes to be reproued,
His woorde is as fure as his feill:
Fye on that man that is not true and loued,
Thy argument is false, and eke contraried:
For it is sayd in Prouerbe, ye may see,
All other vertues is nought worth a flee.
Sir sayd the husband, remember this thing,
A true man is not taken at half a woorde here,
I may say, and vnsay, I am not a king:
Where is your witnesse, I promisd you this geare?
Than sayde the Wolfe, therefore he shall come neare,
Laurence (quoth he) come out of that shawe,
And say nothing but as thou heard and sawe.
Laurence came louring, for he loude neuer light,
And soone appeared before them in that place,
The man laughed not, when he saw that sight:
Laurence (quoth the Wolf) thou must declare the [...]ace,
Whereof we shall shew the truth in short space,
I haue called thee true witnesse to beare,
What heard thou, this man promisse me here.
Sir sayd the Tod, I cannot hastily,
So soone as now giue sentence finall,
But would you both submit you here to me,
To stande to my decree perpetuall,
To please both I should preue, if it may fall:
Well (quoth the Wolf) I am content for me,
The man sayd, so am I, how euer it be.
Then shew they forth and alledge without Fable,
And both propones theyr plea to him compleet,
(Quoth Laurence) now I am a iudge amiable,
Ye shalbe sworne to stand at my decreet,
Whether hereafter ye thinke it sower or sweete:
The Wolf put foorth his foote, the man his hande:
And on the Tods tayle sworne they are to stande.
Then tooke the Tod the man a little beside,
And sayd to him, friend, thou art in trouble brought:
The Wolf will not forgiue thee one oxe hide,
Yet would my selfe fayne help thee and I mought,
But I am loth to hurt my conscience in ought,
Lose not thy quarell in thine owne defence,
This will not through withouten great expence.
Seest thou not brybes beares all the sway now?
And giftes makes crooked matters hold euen?
Sometimes an henne, saues a man a fow,
All are not holy that heaues their handes to heauen:
Sir sayde the man, ye shall haue sixe or seuen
Right of the fattest hennes of all the flocke,
I compt not all the rest, leaue me the Cocke.
I am a iudge, quoth Laurence, then and lough,
There is no brybes shall barre me fro the right,
I may take Hennes and Capons well inough,
For God is gone to sleepe as for this night,
Such small things are not seene in his sight,
These hennes, quoth he, shall make thy matter sure,
With empty hand no man should hawkes lure.
Agreed thus, then Laurence tooke his leeue,
As to the Wolfe he went into a linge,
So pryuely he pluckt him by the sleue,
Is this in earnest, quoth he, ye aske such thing,
Nay by my soule I trow it be in iesting,
Then sayde the Wolf, Laurence why fayst thou so?
Thou heardst his promisse thy selfe not long ago.
The height (quoth he) the man made at the plough,
Is that the cause why ye the cattell craue:
Was halfe in iest (sayd Laurence then) and lough,
Sir by the toode me thinkes that now ye raue,
The Deuill at all one tayle that ye shall haue,
Thinke you Ile take vpon my conscience,
To do so poore a man as he offence?
Yet haue I commoned with the Carle, quoth he,
We are accorded vpon this couenant,
Quite of all claymes so ye will make him fire,
Ye shall a Cabbock haue into your hand,
That such a one shall not be in all this land.
For it is a Sommer cheese both fresh and good,
He sayth it weyes a stone downe by the rood.
Is that thy counsell, quoth the Wolfe, I do,
That yonde Carle for a cheese should be hei?
Yea by my soule and I were sworne you to,
Ye should no other counsell haue for me,
For goe ye to the most extremitee,
It will not winne you worth a withered nepe,
Sir trow ye not I haue a soule to keepe?
Well, quoth the Wolf, it is against my will,
That yond cattel for one cheese should goe quite,
Sir (quoth the Tod) take it not in ill,
For by my soule your selfe had all the witte:
Then, sayd the Wolfe, I byde no more to stitte,
But I would see the Cabboke of such pryze,
For, sayd the Tod, he tolde me where it lies.
Then hand in hand, they walked to an hill,
The husband towardes his house hath ta [...]e the way,
For he was glad be seaped from their ill,
And on his feete did walke while once did the day:
Now will we turne vnto the other t [...]ay,
Through woodes wast these freekes forth can fore,
Fro bushe to bushe, till neere midnight and more.
Laurence was euer remembring vpon wrinkes,
And suttilties, the Wolfe for to beguile,
That he had promist a cheefe, be forethinkes.
Yet at the last he findeth forth one wyle,
That to himselfe softly could he smyle:
The Wolfe sayes, Laurence thou playes belly blinde,
We seeke all night, but nothing can we finde.
Sir, sayd the Tod, we are at it almost,
Softe you a little, and ye shall see it soone,
Then to a mannour place they hied in hast,
The night was light and fayre [...]hone the moone:
Then to a draw well these Senyors both are come,
Where that two b [...]ckets hang [...]uerall, it was so,
As one came vp, an other downe would go.
The sh [...]ow of the Mo [...]e sh [...]e in the well,
Sir, sayd Laurence, once ye shall finde me [...]eill,
Now see yt not the ch [...]se that I you tell,
White as any milke and round as any [...]ele,
He hangd it yonder that no man should it steele,
Sir trust me well, the cabboke ye see hing,
Might be a present to a Lorde or King.
Nay, quoth the Wolf, might I this cabbok haue,
On the dry land as I it yonder see,
I would qu [...]te clayme the Carle of all I eraue:
His durty Ox [...] I c [...]re not for a [...]e [...],
You were more me [...]te for such a man as mee:
Laurence, quoth he, leape in the bucket soone,
And I shall holde the one, while thou go downe.
Laurence girde downe both soone and suttilly,
The other bode abou [...] and helde the flayle,
It is so much, quoth Laurence, it maisters me,
On all my toes it hath not left one nayle:
Ye must needes helpe vpwarde, and it hayle,
Leape in the other bucket man hastily,
And come soone downe and helpe me by and by.
Then lightly in the bucket leapt the [...]owne,
His weight stray [...] made the other [...]nd ar [...],
The Tod came merily vp, the Wolf yeed downe,
Then angerly the Wolf vpon him cryes,
I cōming thus downeward, why thou vpward hyes?
Sir, quoth the Fox, thus fares it oft in towne,
As one comes vp, so goeth another downe.
Then to the ground soone went the Wolf in hast,
The Tod lept on land as blyeth as any bell,
And left the Wolf in water to the wast,
Who halde him out I wote not of the well:
Here endes the text I haue no more to tell,
Yet may men finde some good Moralitee,
In this sentence, though it a Fable bee.
Moralitie.
THe Wolf I liken to a wicked man,
Whiche doth the poore oppresse in ery place:
And pykes at them all quarels that he can,
By rigour, rape, and other wickednesse,
The Foxe the feend, I call into this case,
Egging all men to runne vnrightuous raynes,
Thinking thereby to locke him in his chaynes.
The husband may be cald a godly man,
With whom the fiend fault finds (as Clerkes [...]eedes)
Busie to tempt him with all wayes that he can:
The hennes are workes, that fro firme faith proceeds,
Where such sprouts spreds, ye euil sprit there not speeds
But wends vnto the wicked man againe,
That he hath lost his trauell is full fayne.
The woodes waste, wherein was the Wolfe wilde,
Are wicked ritches, which all men gapes to get,
Who trustes in such trustery, are oft beguylde,
For Mammon may be called the Deuils net,
Whiche Sathanas, for all sinfull folke hath set:
Such proude pleasure who sets his trust therein,
Without speciall grace lightly can out wine.
The cheese may be called couetice,
Whiche blometh broade in many mens eye,
Woe worth the well of that wicked vice,
For it is all but fraude and fantasie,
Driuing all men to leape into that buttery,
That downeward drawes vnto the payne of hell,
Christ keepe all Christians from that wicked well.
FINIS.
¶ The mery tale of the wolfe and the Weather.
WHylom there was, as Esope can report,
A Shepherd dwelling by a forrest neare,
Whiche had a Dogge that did him great comfort,
Full ware he was to keepe his fold fro feare,
That neither Wolf nor wildecat durst appeare,
Nor Foxe on fielde, nor yet no other beast,
But he them slewe, or chased at the least.
So happēned it (as euery beast must sleepe)
This Dogge of sudden sicknesse to be dead,
But then God wote the keeper of the sheepe,
For very wo woxe wanner than the wead:
Alas, quoth he, now see I no remead,
To saue these selly beasts that I now keepe,
For why the Wolfe will weary all my sheepe.
It would haue made a mans heart sore to see,
The selly shepherd make such lamentation,
Now is my dearling dead alas, quoth he,
For now to begge my bread I may be bowne,
With pike staffe and with skrip fro towne to towne,
For all the beastes before that bandoned weare,
Will now returne againe, and all my shepe to teare.
With that a Weather stoutly stood on foote,
Master, quoth he, make mery and be light,
To breake your hart for bale, it is no boote,
For one dead Dogge ye must not take such flight,
Go fetch him hither and flay his skinne ere night,
So sow it on me: and looke that it be meete,
Both head, and necke, body, tayle, and feete.
Then will the Wolfe beleeue that I am hee,
For I shall follow him fast where ere he fare,
All hole the charge here I take vpon mee,
Your sheepe to keepe at midday late and rayre,
And he pursue, by God, I shall not spare,
To follow him as fast as did your dogge,
So that I warrant, ye shall not want a hogge.
Than sayd the Shepherd, this comes of a good wit,
Thy counsell is both good, faithfull, and true,
Who sayes a shepes a wretch, they lie of it:
With that in hast the dogges skinne of he flewe,
And on the sheepe right softly could it sewe,
Than was the wether wanton of his weed,
Now of the Wolf, quoth he, I haue no dreed.
In all things he counterfayte the dogge,
For all the night he stoode and tooke no sleepe,
So that long time there wanted not an hogge,
So ware he was, and watchfull them to keepe,
That Laurence durst not looke vpon a sheepe,
For and he did, he followed him so fast,
That of his life he made him all agast.
Was nother Wolf, wildeeat, nor yet Tod,
Durst come within the boundes all aboute:
But he would chase them both throw rough and snot,
These baylefull beastes had of their liues such doubte,
For he was great and seemed to be stoute,
That euery beast did dread him and eke feare,
Without the wood that none durst once appeare.
It happened there an hungry Wolf to slyde,
Out throw his sheepe where as they did lie,
I shall one haue, quoth he, what euer betyde,
Though I be weried, or els I will dle:
With that a Lambe he got by and by,
The rest start vp, for they were all agast,
But (God wote) if the Weather folowed fast.
Went neuer hound more hastily from the hand,
When he was runnyng most rashly forthe roe,
Nor went this weather ouer mosse and strand,
And stopped neither at banke, buske, nor bro,
But followed still, ay fiercely on his foe,
With suche a drift, while dust & dirte ouerdraue him,
And made a vowe to God that he would haue him.
With that the Wolfe let out his tayle at length,
For he was hungry, and it drewe neare euen,
And shope him for to runne with all his strength,
When he the weather so neare comming had seene,
He dread his life, and he had taken bene,
Therefore he spared neither buske nor bogge,
For well he knew the kindnesse of the Dogge.
To make him light he cast the Lambe him fro,
So lept ore leys & ran through durt and myre,
Nay (quoth the Weather) in fayth we part not so,
It is not the Lambe, but thee that I desire,
I shall come neere for now I see thee tyre,
The Wolfe ranne still and durst not looke behind him,
But ay the neerer the weather he could winde him.
Soone after that he followed him so neare,
While that the Wolfe for feare befiled the field,
And left the way, and ran through bushe and bryar,
And thought within the woodes him for to shield,
He ran still restles, or els he must needes yeeld,
The weather followed him out and in,
While that a bryar bush, tare rudely off the skin.
The Wolfe was ware and blinked him behind,
And saw the weather come flinging through ye bryer;
So saw the dogge skin hanging on the lynd,
Nay (quoth he i [...] this ye that is so neere?
Right now a hound, and now white as a fryer,
I fled ore farre, and I had knowen the case,
To God I vow that ye shall rewe this race.
What was the cause ye gaue me such a catch?
With that in hast he tooke him by the horne,
For all your wyles, you met once with your match,
Suppose ye laught [...]e all this yeare to scorne,
For what treason haue ye this dogges▪skin borne?
Master quoth he, but euen to play with you,
I you require that ye none other trow.
Is this your iesting in earnest then, quoth he,
For I am very fearefull and also flote,
Come backe againe and I shall let you see.
Then where the way was berayed he him brote,
Whether call ye this fayre play or not?
To set your maister in so fell afray,
The which for feare thus filed hath the way.
Thryse by my soule ye made me looke behinde,
And vpon my hotches my sinewes may be se [...]ne,
For feardnesse full ofte I field the winde,
Now is this ye: nay but a Dogge I weene,
My thinkes your teeth ore short to be so keene,
Blessed be the bushe, that reft you your array,
Cls flying bursten had I bene this day.
Sir (quoth the weather) suppose I ran in hy,
My minde was neuer to do your person ill,
The flear gettes the folower commonly,
In play or earnest, proue who so euer will,
Since I but played, be gratious me vntill,
And I shall make my friendes to blesse your bones,
For sure good seruaunt will helpe his master once.
I haue oft times bene set in great affray,
But by the roode so rayde yet was I neuer,
As thou hast made me with thy prety play,
I shote behinde when thou ore tooke me euer,
But [...]ertaynly now shall we not disseuer,
Then by the neckebone surely he him tooke,
Or euer he ceast, and it in sunder shooke.
Moralitie.
ESope that Poet first father of this Fable,
Wrate this parable whiche is conuenient,
Bicause the sentence was frutefull and agreeable,
In moralitie examplatiue prudent,
Whose problemes bene very excellent,
Through similitudes of figures to this day,
Giues doctrine to the readers of it for ay.
Here may thou see that ritches of array,
Will cause poore men presumptuous for to bee,
Then thinke to holde of none be they as gay,
But counterfayte a Lorde in euery degree,
Out of knowledge in pryde they clime so hie,
That they will forbeare their better in no stead,
Till some man turne, their heeles ouer their head.
Right so in seruice other some exceedes,
And they haue wages, wealth and cherishing,
That they will be lightly Lordes in deedes,
And looke not to their bloud and ofspryng,
But yet none knowes how long that rule will ring,
But he was wise that bad his sonne consider,
Beware in wealth, for the hall bench is right slyder.
Therefore I counsell men of euery state,
To know them selfe, and whom they should forbeare,
And fall not with their better in debate,
Suppose they be as gallant in their geare:
It commeth not a seruaunt to bolde warre,
Nor clime so hie, while he fall of the lather,
But thinke vpon the Wolfe and on the Weather.
FINIS.
The wofull tale of the cruell Wolfe and the innocent Lambe.
ACruell Wolfe right rauenous, and fell,
Vpon a time past to a riuer,
Descending from a rotch, vnto a well,
To slake his thirste dranke of the water cleare,
So vpon chaunce, a selly Lambe came neare,
But of his foe, the Wolfe nothing he wist,
And in the streame leaped to coole his thrist.
They dranke both but not of one intent,
The Wolues thought was all on wickednes,
The silly Lambe was meeke and innocent,
Vpon the ryuer in an other place,
Beneath the Wolfe, he dranke a little space,
Whyle he thought good, thinking of none ill,
The Wolfe him sawe, and rampant came him till.
With grinning teeth, and fearefull angry looke,
Sayde to the Lambe, thou caytife wretched thing,
How durst thou be so bolde to file the brooke,
Where I should drinke, with thy foule slauering?
It were almes deede thee for to drawe and hing.
That should presume, with thy foule lips so vile,
To marre my drinke, and this fayre water file.
The selly Lambe quaking for very dread,
On knees fell, and sayd sir with your leaue,
Suppose I dare not say, thereof ye lyed:
But by my soule, I wote ye can nought preue,
That I did aught in any, that should you greue,
Ye wote also that your accusation,
Beares no truth, and is against all reason.
Though I cannot, nature will me defend,
And of the deede perfite experience,
All heauy things must of themselues descend,
But if some things by force make resistance,
Then may the streame in no way make ascence,
Nor runne backwarde: I dranke beneath you farre,
Ergo, the water therefore I did not marre.
Also my lippes, since that I was a Lam,
Touched no thing that was contagious,
But sucked milke from pappes of my dam,
Right naturall, sweete, and also delicious,
Well, quoth the Wolfe, thy language rigorous,
Comes thee of kinde: so thy father to,
Helde me at bay, till he no more could do.
He angred me, and then I could him warne,
Within one yeare and if I broke my head,
I would be venged on him or on his barne,
For his spitefull and frowarde plead,
Thou shalt doubtlesse, for his deedes be dead.
Sir it is wrong that for the fathers gilt,
The fautlesse sonne should punisht be or spilt.
Haue yt not heard what holy Scripture sayes,
Spoken by the mouth of God almight?
Of his owne deedes eche man shall beare the prayse,
As paynes for sinne, rewardes for workes right,
For my trespasse why should my sonne haue plight?
Who did the misse let him susteyne the payne,
A, A, (quoth the Wolfe) yet answerest thou againe.
I let thee wit, when that the father offends,
I will refuse none of his succession,
And of his sonnes, I well may take amends,
Vnto the twenty degree descending downe,
Thy father thought to make a strong poyson,
And with his mouth, in my water did it spue,
Sir, quoth the Lam, these two are nothing true.
The law sayth, and ye will vnderstand:
There should no man for wrong or violence,
His aduersary punish at his owne hand,
Without processe of law, and euidence,
Whiche should haue leaue to make lawfull defence,
And therevpon summoned peremptorily,
For to propone contrary, or reply.
Set me a lawfull court, I shall appeare,
Before the Lion Lorde and true Iustice,
And by my hand, I binde my faith right here,
That I shall byde an vnsuspect assise,
This is the law, this is the instant guise.
Ye should pretend therefore and summons make,
Against that day to giue reason and take.
Nay (quoth the Wolfe) thou wouldst intruse reason,
Where wrong and robry should dwell in property,
That is a poynt and parte of false treason,
For to make ruth remayne with cruelty,
By his woundes, false traytour, thou shalt die,
For thy trespasse and for thy fathers deede,
With that anon he caught him by the head.
The silly Lambe could do nothing but bleate,
Soone was he dead, the Wolfe would shewe no grace,
So dronke his bloud, and of his flesh can eate,
Whyle he was full and went his way apace,
Of this murther what shall we say alace?
Was not this ruth, was not this great pitty?
To make this silly Lambe, without fault thus to die.
Moralitie.
THe poore people this Lambe may signifie,
As euil men, Marchants, and labourers,
Of whom this life is halfe a purgatory,
To winne their foode continually like misers,
The Wolfe betokeneth false extortioners,
And oppressors of poore men as wee see,
By violence, crafte, or vsurie.
Three kindes of Wolues in this world remaynes,
The first are false peruerters of the lawes,
Whiche vnder suttill termes falshead mayntaines,
As though all were Gospell that he showes,
But without brybe the poore he ouerthrowes,
Smoothering the right, making wrong proceede,
Of such Wolues, helles fire shall be their meede.
O man of lawe let be thy futtletie,
With nycequips, and fraudes intricate:
And thinke that God in his Diuinitie,
The wrong & right of all thy workes wate,
For prayer, pryce, for hye, nor lowe estate,
Of false quarrels see thou make no defence,
Holde with the right, hurt not thy conscience.
An other kinde of Wolues ranenous,
Are mighty men, hauing full great plenty,
Whiche are so greedy and so couetous,
They will not let the poore in peace be,
Suppose he and his houshold both should dye
For fault of foode, no care will they make,
But ouer his head his house will they take.
O man without mercy what is in thy thought,
Were thou a Wolfe, and could vnderstande,
Thou hast inough, the poore husband right nought,
But little croppe of corne vpon a clot of lande,
(For Gods aw) how durst thou take in hande,
And thou thy Barnes full, and yet doest egge,
To put him fro his liuing, and make them to begge.
The thirde Wolfe are men of heritage,
As Lordes that haue landes by Gods leaue,
And lets out to poore men a village,
And for the time incomes doth receaue,
Ece halfe spent the time, [...]exeth him and berene,
With picked quarrels, for to make him fayne,
To flitte, or pay his income new agayne.
His horse, his [...]are, [...]e must lend to the Lord,
To drudge and drawe, in court or in carriage,
His seruaunt, or him selfe may not be spard,
To swing, or sweat, withouten meate or wage,
Thus how he standes in labour and bondage,
That scantly can he purchase bere or wine,
Course browne bread, or drinke that is thin.
Hast thou no pitty to make thy te [...]aunts sweate,
In thy labour with faynt and hungry wome,
And seest, hath little good to drinke and eate,
With his meyny, at euen when he cōmes home,
Thou shouldst feare for rightuous God his dome,
For it cryes vengeaunce to the Heauens hie,
To make poore men worke, without meate or f [...]e.
O thou great Lorde that ritches hast and rent:
Be not a Wolfe thus to deuoure the poore,
Thinke that nothing crue [...]l or violent,
May in this world perpetually endure,
Thus shouldst thou beleeue, and certainely assure,
For to oppresse thou shalt haue as great payne,
As thou the poore, hadst wt thine owne hand slayne.
God keepe the Lambe (whiche is the innocent,)
From Wolues bit, and fell extortioners,
God graunt that wrangling men of false intent,
Be manifested, and punished as offenders,
And God as thou all rightuous prayers heares,
To saue our Queene, and giue hir harte and hand,
All such Wolues, to banish out of the land.
FINIS.
¶ The tale of the wofull ende of the Paddocke and the Mouse: shewing the mischiefe of desemblers.
VPon a time (as Esope coulde report)
A little Mouse came to a riuer side.
She might not wade, hir legges were so short▪
Neyther could she swim, she had no horse to ride,
Of very force behinde [...]er to bide,
And to, and fro, besides the riuer deepe,
She ran crying with many pit [...]ous p [...]epe.
Helpe ouer, help ouer, this selly Mouse can crie,
For Gods loue, some body ouer the brim,
With that a Paddocke in the water by,
Put vp hir head, and on the banke gan clim,
Whiche by nature could douke, and gayly swim,
With voyce full ranke, she sayde on this manier,
Good morne sir Mouse what is your errand heere.
Seest thou (quoth she) of corne yonde iolly plat,
Of ripe Otes, of Barley, Pease, and Wheate,
I am hungry, and fayne would be thereat,
But I am stopped by this water great,
And on this side I get nothing to eate,
But harde nuttes, whiche with my teeth I bore,
Were I beyond, my feast were much the more.
I haue no boate, here is no marriner:
And though there were, I haue no fraught to pay,
(Quoth she sister) let be thy heauy cheere,
Do my counsell, and I shall finde the way,
Without Horse, Bridge, Boate, or els gallay,
To bring thee ouer safely, be not affeard:
And not once to wet the compasse of thy beard.
I haue great wonder quoth the little Mous,
How can thou flote, without feather or finne:
This riuer is so deepe and dangerous,
Me thinkes, that thou shuldst drowned be therein,
Tell me therefore, what faculty or gin,
Thou hast, to bring thee ore this water wan?
That to declare, the Paddocke thus began.
With my two feete (quoth she)long and brade,
In steede of ores I rowe the streame full still,
And though the bryme be perillous to wade,
Both too and fro, I rowe at mine owne will,
I may not drowne for why my open gill,
Deuoydes all the water I receaue,
Therefore to drowne forsothe no dread I haue.
The Mouse beheld then hir frowning face,
Hir wrinkled cheekes, and hir lippes syde:
Hir hanging browes, and hir voyce so harce,
Hir lagring legges, and hir harsky hyde,
She ran a backe and on the Paddock cryde,
If I can any skill of Phisnomy,
Thou haste some part of false villany.
For Clerkes sayes, the inclination,
Of mans thought, proceedes commonly,
After the corporall complexion,
To good or euill as nature will apply,
A froward will and crabbed Phisnomy,
The old Prouerbe, is witnesse of this lorum,
Distortum vultum, sequitur distortio morum.
Nay (quoth the Frogge) that Prouerbe is not trew,
For fayre things ofttimes are found infakin,
The Blaberys though they be sad of hew,
Are gathered vp when Prymrose is forsaken,
The face may fayle, to be the hartes token,
Therefore I finde this written in eche place,
Thou shouldst not iudge a man after his face.
Though I be irksom for to looke vpon,
There is no cause why I should lacked be,
Were I as fayre as iolly Absolon,
I am no causer of that great bewty,
This difference in forme and qualitie,
Almighty God hath caused dame nature,
To print and set in euery his creature.
Of some the face may be full florishing,
With silken tong, and cheere right amorous,
With minde inconstant, false, and varying,
Full of deceyte, and meanes cautelous,
Let be thy preaching (quoth the hungry Mouse)
And by what meanes now make me vnderstand,
That thou canst help me vnto yonder land.
Thou knowest, quoth she, a body that hath neede,
To help them selfe, should many wayes cast,
Therefore go get a double twined threede,
And binde thy legge to mine, with knottes fast,
I shall thee learne to swim, be not agast,
(As well as I) As thou, then quoth the Mous,
To proue that play, it were right perillous.
Should I be bound, and fast, that now am free,
In hope of helpe, nay then beshrew my head,
For I mought lose, both life and libertie,
If it were so who should amend the deede?
But if thou wilt sweare to helpe me with speede,
Without fraude, or guyle, to bring me ore the flud,
And without hurt or harme in fayth, quoth she, good.
She goyked vp, and to the heauen can cry:
O Iupiter of nature God and King,
I make an othe truly to thee, that I
This littell Mouse shall ouer this water bring,
This othe was made, the Mouse without perceiuing,
The false engine of this foule carping Pad,
Toke threede, and bound hir legge as she hir bad.
Then foote for foote, they lap both in the brim,
But in their mindes they were right different,
The Mouse thought of nothing, but for to swim,
The Paddock for to drowne set his intent,
When they in midway of the streame nere went,
With all hir force the Paddock pressed downe,
And thought the Mouse without mercy to drowne.
Perceyuing this, the Mouse on hir can cry,
Traytour to God and forsworne vnto me,
Thou tookest vpon thy faith, right now, that I
Without hurt or harme, should ferried be and free,
And when she sawe, there was but do, or dee,
Withall hir might, she forst hir selfe to swim:
And pressed vpon the Todes back for to clim.
The dread of death, hir strength made increas,
And forced hir defende with might, and mayne,
The Mouse vpward: the Paddock downe can pres,
Whyle to, while fro, whyle dowked vp againe,
This silly Mouse plunged into great payne,
Can fight as long as breath was in hir breast,
Till at the last she cried for the priest.
Fighting thus togither, the kight sate on a twist,
And to this wretched battell tooke good heede,
And with a whiske, or any of them wist,
He clenchet his talens betwixt them on the threede,
So to the lande he flew with them good speede,
Glad of that catch, piping with many pew:
So lowsed them, and without pity slew.
Then bowelled them that butcher with his bill,
And belly drawen full featly them he fleede,
But all their flesh, would scant be half a fill,
And guttes also vnto that greedy gleede.
Of their debate thus when I heard the reede,
He tooke his flight and ouer the fieldes flaw,
If this be not true, then aske of them that saw.
Moralitie.
MY brother if thou wil take aduertence,
By this Fable thou may perceyue and see,
It passes farre all kinde of pestilence,
A wicked minde fraught with woordes fayre and s [...]ee,
Beware therefore with whome thou matchest thee,
For thee were better go to carte and plow,
And all thy dayes to delue in wet and drie,
Than to be matched with a wicked fellow.
A false intent vnder a fayre pretence,
Hath caused many an innocent to die,
Great folly it is to giue ouersoone credence,
To all that speakes fayrely vnto thee,
A silken tong, an heart of cruelty,
Smites more sore than any shot of arrow,
Brother if thou be wise, I red thee flee,
To match thee with a fained froward fellow.
I warrant thee also, it is great negligence,
To bind thee fast, where thou were franke & free,
When thou art bounde, thou can make no defence,
To saue thy life, nor yet thy libertie.
This simple counsel brother take of me,
And it to conne forth both early and late,
Better without strife, to liue alone we see,
Than to be matched with a wicked mate.
This holde in mind, right more I shall thee tel,
What by these beastes may be fygurate.
The Paddocke vsing in the floud to dwel,
Is mans body, swimming rare and late,
In this wretched world with cares implicate,
Now hy, now low, whiles plūged vp, whiles down,
Continually in peril, and ready for to drowne.
Now dolorous, now glad as byrde on breere,
Now in freedome, now wrapped in distresse,
Now hole and sound, now dead & brought on beer,
Now pore as Iob, now rolling in riches.
Now gownes gay, now ragges laide in presse,
Now full as pease, now hungry as the hounde,
Now hoyst on wheele, now thrown vpon ye ground.
This litle mouse, here knit thus by the shin,
The soule of man betoken may indeede,
Bounden, and from the body may not win,
While cruel death come breake of life the threede,
The which to drown should euer stand in dread
Of carnall lust, by the suggestion,
Which drawes the soule continually a downe.
The water is the world aye weltering
With many waues of tribulation:
In which the soule and bodie be sturring
Standing right different in their opinion,
The soule vpwarde, the body preaces downe,
The soule right faine would be brought ore ywis,
Out of this world, into the heauens blisse.
The Right is death, that cometh sodainely,
As doth a theef, and endeth soone the battell:
Be vigilant therfore, and still ready,
For mans life is brickle and aye mortall.
My friend therefore make thee a strong wall,
Of faith in Christ: for death wil the assay,
Thou knowst not when, euen morrow or midday.
Adew my friend: and if that any aske
Of these Fables, so shortly I conclude,
Say thou I left the rest, vnto the learneds taske,
To make example, and some simlitude.
Now Christ for vs that died on the rood,
Of soule and life, as thou art sauiour,
Graunt vs to passe into a blessed houre.
Finished in the vale of Aylesburie the thirtenth of August. Anno Domini. 1574.
THE EPILOGVE.
BEhold ye men) Esope that noble clerke
Although of body yformed wondrous ill,
His fables wrote with wisdome deep and darke
To stir our mindes (to good which had no will)
By beastes and foules, he spake to warne vs still,
As Foxe, Woulfe, sheepe, dog, cocke and henne,
To stirre our mindes to liue on earth like men.
Its writ of olde by authours that are past,
That Esope was crooke backt, great belly & head,
Crooke legged, splay foote, & like a Cowe in wast
Yet vertuous of his life, as it is sead,
Whose good examples liues though he be dead,
In eche mans mouth, and shall do still for aye.
Lo vertue brings forth fruite without decay.
Thus as ye heare ill shapen of his body,
Yet of his minde none perfecter then he:
But marke his Sawes, and ye finde him no noddy,
But perfect aye, as perfect loe may be,
Who lendes you light good vertuous wayes to see.
Then loue this worke, and and reade it at your will,
I but eclipse his tales of so great skill.
FINIS.