[A Carman's Account of a Law-suit.] Of tails I will no more indite, Marry, I lent my gossip my mare, to fetch hame coals, Notwithstanding, I will conclude, And there I happenit amang ane greedie meinyie.1 Supplication in Contemption of Side Tails. Sovereign, I mean3 of thir side tails, Richt so ane queen or ane emprice; Should have her tail so side trailand; How kirk and causay they soop clean. May think of their side tails irk ;4 Gif they could speak, they wald them wary. Then when they step furth through the street, That of side tails can come nae gude, Quoth Lindsay, in contempt of the side tails, [The Building of the Tower of Babel, and (From the Monarchie.) Their great fortress then did they found, The translator of Orosius At noon, when it doth shine maist bricht, Afore that time all spak Hebrew, Then brocht they to them stocks and stanes; But never ane word they understood. * * * MISCELLANEOUS PIECES OF THE PERIOD 1400-1558. A few pieces of the reigns of Henry VIII. and Edward VI., some of which are by uncertain authors, may be added, as further illustrative of the literary history of that period. The first two are amongst the earliest verses in which the metaphysical refinements, so notable in the subsequent period, are observable. A Praise of his (the Poet's) Lady. Excels the precious stone: I wish to have none other books In each of her two crystal eyes It would you all in heart suffice I think Nature hath lost the mould, Or else I doubt if Nature could She may be well compared Unto the phoenix kind, Whose like was never seen nor heard, In life she is Diana chaste, In word and eke in deed steadfast: * Her roseal colour comes and goes With such a comely grace, At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet, The modest mirth that she doth use O Lord, it is a world to see As doth the gilly flower a weed, ANDREW BOURD. How might I do to get a graff When Death doth what he can, Her honest fame shall ever live Within the mouth of man. Amantium Iræ amoris redintegratio est. [By Richard Edwards, a court musician and poet, 1523-1566.] In going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept, I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept. She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, to bring the That would not cease, but cried still, in sucking at babe to rest. her breast. She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with She rocked it, and rated it, until on her it smil'd; her child, Then did she say, 'Now have I found the proverb truc to prove, The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.' Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write, In register for to remain of such a worthy wight. she sat ; And proved plain, there was no beast, nor creature bearing life, Could well be known to live in love without discòrd and strife: Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God above, "The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.' [Characteristic of an Englishman.] [By Andrew Bourd, physician to Henry VIII. The lines form an inscription under the picture of an Englishman, naked, with a roll of cloth in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other.] I am an Englishman, and naked I stand here, Musing in my mind what garment I shall wear, For now I will wear this, and now I will wear that, Now I will wear I cannot tell what : All new fashions be pleasant to me, I will have them whether I thrive or thee: Then I am a minion, for I wear the new guise, I overcome my adversaries by land and by sea: No man shall let me, but I will have my mind, The Nut-Brown Mail. [Regarding the date and author of this piece no certainty exists. Prior, who founded his Henry and Emma upon it, fixes its date about 1400; but others, judging from the comparatively modern language of it, suppose it to have been composed subsequently to the time of Surrey. The poem opens with a declaration of the author, that the faith of woman is stronger than is generally alleged, in proof of which he proposes to relate the trial to which the Not-Browne Mayde' was exposed by her lover. What follows consists of a dialogue between the pair.] HE. It standeth so; a deed is do', My destiny is for to die A shameful death, I trow; Or else to flee: the one must be, But to withdraw as an outlaw, Wherefore adieu, my own heart true! For I must to the green wood go, SHE. O Lord, what is this world's bliss, That changeth as the moon! My summer's day in lusty May I hear you say, Farewell: Nay, nay, Why say ye so? whither will ye go? HE.-I can believe, it shall you grieve, But afterward, your paines hard Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take Why should ye ought, for to make thought? And thus I do, and pray to you, As heartily as I can ; For I must to the green wood go, Shall never be said, the Nut-Brown Maid For in my mind, of all mankind IIE. I counsel you, remember how For ye must there in your hand bear A bow, ready to draw; And as a thief, thus must you live, Whereby to you great harm might grow: That I had to the green wood go, SHE. I think not nay, but, as ye say, But love may make me for your sake, To come on foot, to hunt and shoot For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone. HE. Yet take good heed, for ever I dread That ye could not sustain The thorny ways, the deep vallèys, The snow, the frost, the rain, The cold, the heat; for, dry or weet, We must lodge on the plain; And us above, none other roof But a brake bush or twain: That I had to the greenwood go, SHE. Sith I have here been partinèr I must also part of your wo Yet I am sure of one pleasure, That, where ye be, me seemeth, pardic, Without more speech, I you beseech For, to my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone. HE. If ye go thither, ye must consider, When ye have list to dine, There shall no meat be for you gete, Nor drink, beer, ale, nor wine, No sheetes clean, to lie between, None other house but leaves and boughs, To cover your head and mine. Oh mine heart sweet, this evil diet, SHE. Among the wild deer, such an archér, As men say that ye be, Ye may not fail of good vittail, Where is so great plentie. And water clear of the river, Shall be full sweet to me. With which in heal, I shall right weel For, in my mind, of all mankind HE.-Lo yet before, ye must do more, If ye will go with me; As cut your hair up by your ear, And this same night, before day-light, If that ye will all this fulfill, Do't shortly as ye can: Else will I to the green wood go, SHE. I shall, as now, do more for you, Oh, my sweet mother, before all other Where fortune doth me lead. HE.-Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go, For like as ye have said to me, Ye would answer whoever it were, In way of company. It is said of old, soon hot, soon cold; Wherefore I to the wood will go, Yet have you proved how I you loved, And ever shall, whatso befal; HE.-A baron's child to be beguiled, To be fellàw with an outlaw, It better were, the poor squièr Than I should say, another day, That, by my cursed deed, We were betrayed: wherefore, good maid, The best rede that I can, Is, that I to the greenwood go, 1 Disposition. SHE. Whatever befall, I never shall, Be so unkind to leave behind, For, in my mind, of all mankind IIE. If that ye went, ye should repent; I have purveyed me of a maid, I dare it weel avow, And of you both each should be wroth It were mine ease to live in peace; n; Wherefore I to the wood will go, SHE.-Though in the wood I understood All this may not remove my thought, And she shall find me soft and kind Command me to my power. For, in my mind, of all mankind HE.-Mine own dear love, I see thee prove Of maid and wife, in all my life, The best that ever I knew. Be merry and glad; no more be sad; For it were ruth, that, for your truth, Be not dismayed; whatever I said I will not to the greenwood go, I am no banished man. SHE. These tidings be more glad to me, If I were sure they would endure: When men will break promise, they speak The wordes on the spleen. Ye shape some wile me to beguile, And steal from me, I ween: Than were the case worse than it was, And I more woe-begone: For, in my mind, of all mankind I love but you alone. HE.-Ye shall not need further to dread: I will not disparage, You (God defend !) sith ye descend Of so great a lineage. Now understand; to Westmoreland, Which is mine heritage, I will you bring; and with a ring, By way of marriage, I will you take, and lady make, As shortly as I can : Thus have you won an earl's son, PROSE WRITERS. SIR JOHN FORTESCUE. Nor long after the time of Lydgate, our attention is called to a prose writer of eminence, the first since the time of Chaucer and Wickliffe. This was SIR JOHN FORTESCUE, Chief Justice of the King's Bench under Henry VI., and a constant adherent of the fortunes of that monarch. He flourished between the years 1430 and 1470. Besides several Latin tracts, Chief Justice Fortescue wrote one in the common language, entitled, The Difference between an Absolute and Limited Monarchy, as it more particularly regards the English Constitution, in which he draws a striking, though perhaps exaggerated, contrast between the condition of the French under an arbitrary monarch, and that of his own countrymen, who even then possessed considerable privileges as subjects. The following extracts convey at once an idea of the literary style, and of the manner of thinking, of that age. [English Courage.] [Original spelling.—It is cowardise and lack of hartes and corage, that kepith the Frenchmen from rysyng, and not po vertye; which corage no Frenche man hath like to the English man. It hath ben often seen in Englond that iij or iv thefes, for povertie, hath sett upon vij or viij true men, and robbyd them al. But it hath not ben seen in Fraunce, that vij or viij thefes have ben hardy to robbe iij or iv true men. Wherfor it is right seld that French men be hangyd for robberye, for that thay have no hertys to do so terry ble an acte. There be therfor mo men hangyd in Englond, in a yere, for robberye and manslaughter, than ther be hangid in Fraunce for such cause of crime in vij yers, &c.] It is cowardice and lack of hearts and courage, that keepeth the Frenchmen from rising, and not poverty; which courage no French man hath like to the English man. It hath been often seen in England that three or four thieves, for poverty, hath set upon seven or eight true men, and robbed them all. But it hath not been seen in France, that seven or eight thieves have been hardy to rob three or four true men. Wherefore it is right seld that Frenchmen be hanged for robbery, for that they have no hearts to do so terrible an act. There be therefore mo men hanged in England, in a year, for robbery and manslaughter, than there be hanged in France for such cause of crime in seven years. There is no man hanged in Scotland in seven years together for robbery, and yet they be often times hanged for larceny, and stealing of goods in the absence of the owner thereof; but their hearts serve them not to take a man's goods while he is present and will defend it; which manner of taking is called robbery. But the English man be of another courage; for if he be poor, and see another man having riches which may be taken from him by might, he wol not spare to do so, but if that poor man be right true. Wherefore it is not poverty, but it is lack of heart and cowardice, that keepeth the French men from rising. is to say, they that seen few things woll soon say their advice. Forsooth those folks consideren little the good of the realm, whereof the might most stondeth And if they upon archers, which be no rich men. were made poorer than they be, they should not have wherewith to buy them bows, arrows, jacks, or any other armour of defence, whereby they might be able to resist our enemies when they list to come upon us, which they may do on every side, considering that we be an island; and, as it is said before, we may not have soon succours of any other realm. Wherefore we should be a prey to all other enemies, but if we be mighty of ourself, which might stondeth most upon our poor archers; and therefore they needen not only to have such habiliments as now is spoken of, but also they needen to be much exercised in shooting, which may not be done without right great expenses, as every man expert therein knoweth right well. Wherefore the making poor of the commons, which is the making poor of our archers, should be the destruction of the greatest might of our realm. Item, if poor men may not lightly rise, as is the opinion of those men, which for that cause would have the commons poor; how then, if a mighty man made a rising, should he be repressed, when all the commons be so poor, that after such opinion they may not fight, and by that maketh the king the commons to be every year musreason not help the king with fighting? And why tered, sithen it was good they had no harness, nor were able to fight? Oh, how unwise is the opinion of these men; for it may not be maintained by any reason! Item, when any rising hath been made in this land, before these days by commons, the poorest men thereof hath been the greatest causers and doers therein. And thrifty men have been loth thereto, for dread of losing of their goods, yet often times they have gone with them through menaces, or else the same poor men would have taken their goods; wherein it seemeth that poverty hath been the whole and chief cause of all such rising. The poor man hath been stirred thereto by occasion of his poverty for to get good; and the rich men have gone with them because they wold not be poor by losing of their goods. What then would fall, if all the commons were poor? WILLIAM CAXTON. The next writer of note was WILLIAM CAXTON, the celebrated printer; a man of plain understanding, but great enthusiasm in the cause of literature. While acting as an agent for English merchants in Holland, he made himself master of the art of printing, then recently introduced on the Continent; and, having translated a French book styled, The Recuyell of the Histories of Troye, he printed it at Ghent, in 1471, being the first book in the English language ever put to the press. Afterwards he established a printing-office at Westminster, and in 1474, produced The Game of Chess, which was the first book printed in Britain. Caxton translated or wrote about sixty different books, all of which went through his own press before his death in 1491. As a specimen of his manner of writing, and of the literary language What harm would come to England if the Commons of this age, a passage is here extracted, in modern thereof were Poor. * In a note to this publication, Caxton says-" Forasmuch as age creepeth on me daily, and feebleth all the bodie, and also because I have promised divers gentlemen, and to my friends, to address to them, as hastily as I might, this said book, therefore I have practised and learned, at my great charge and dispence, to ordain this said book in print, after the manner and form as ye may here see, and is not written with pen and ink, as other books ben, to the end that all men may have them at once, for all the books of this story, named The Recule of the Historeys of Troyes,' thus emprinted, as ye here see, were begun in one day, and also finished in one day." |