TO THE DYGNE MASTRE CANYNGE. STRAUNGE dome ytte ys, that, yn these daies of Instedde of mountynge on a wynged horse, Heie pycke up wolsome weedes, ynstedde of Fyne thoughtes, and couplettes fetyvelie bewryen flowers, And famylies, ynstedde of wytte, theie trace; Lette kyages, and rulers, whan heie gayne a owne, Now raung'd wythe whatt yeir fadres han before; Notte syke as doe annoie thys age so sore, ENTRODUCTIONNE. A man ascaunse uponn a piece maye looke, SOMME cherisaunei tys to gentle mynde, 3 Droorie. Strange perversion of words! droorie in its ancient signification stood for modesty *. This is an errour of Chatterton. Schyr Jhone Webetown thar was slayne; A lettyr that bym send a lady That he luffyt per drouery. Whan theie ar dedd, theie leave yer name be- Downe yn the grave wee ynhyme everych steyne, Whylest Saxons dyd the Englysche sceptre swaie, That said quhen he had yemyt a yer Eila, In wer, as a good batchiller. The awenturs castell off Dowglas Celmonde, That to kep sa peralous was, Than mycht he weill ask a lady Hyr amours and hyr drouery. The Bruce. B. 8. 49S. Hurra, ELLA. Personnes representedd. bie Thomas Rowleie, Preeste, the Aucthoure. Johan Iscamm, Preeste. Syrr Thybbotte Gorges, Knyghte. Mastre Edvarde Canynge. Odherr partes bie Knyghtes Mynstrelles. CELMONDE, att Brystowe. BEFORE yonae roddie Sonne has droove hys [goulde, wayne Throwe half his joornie, dyghte yn gites of 6 This word is loosely made from the Saxon verb alysan, to loosen, to set free, Notte, whanne the hallie prieste dyd make me knyghte, Blessynge the weaponne, tellynge future dede, Howe bie mie honde the prevyd Dane shoulde blede, [fyghte; Howe I schulde often bee, and often wynne ynue Notte, whann I fyrste behelde thie beauteous hue, [softer soule; Whyche strooke mie mynde, and rouzed my Nott, whann from the barbed horse yn fyghte dyd viewe The flying Dacians oere the wyde playne roule, Whan all the troopes of Denmarque made grete dole, Dydd I fele joie wyth syke reddoure as nowe, Whann hallie preest, the lechemanne of the soule, Dydd knytte us both ynn a caytysnede vowe: Now hallie Ella's selynesse ys grate; Shap haveth nowe ymade hys woes for to emmate. BIRTHA. Mie lorde, and husbande, syke a joie is myne; Botte mayden modestie moste ne soe saie, Albeytte thou mayest rede ytt ynne myne eyne, Or ynn myne harte, where thou shalte be for aie; Inne sothe, I have botte meeded oute thie faie; For twelve tymes twelve the mone hath bin yblente, As manie tymes hathe vyed the godde of daie, And on the grasse her lemes of sylverr sente, Sythe thou dydst cheese mee for thie swote to bee, Enactynge ynn the same moste faifullie to mee. Ofte have I seene thee atte the none-daie feaste, Whanne deysde bie thieselfe, for wante of pheeres, Is she not more than painting can express? Fair Penitent. Awhy'st thiemerryemen dydde laughe and jeaste, Offe scarpes of scarlette, and fyne paramente, I saie ytt, I moste streve thatt you ameded bee. All thie yntente to please was lyssed to mee, ELLA. Mie lyttle kyndnesses whych I dydd doe, Thou doest mie thoughtes of paying love amate. Botte hann mie actyonns straughte the rolle of fate, [down to thee, Pyghte thee from Hell, or brought Heaven Layde the whol worlde a falldstole atte thie feete, On smyle would be suffycyll mede for mee. I amm loves borro'r, and canne never paie, Botte be hys borrower stylle, and thyne, mis swete, for aie. BIRTHA. Love, doe notte rate your achevments soe smalle; ELLA. Angelles bee wrogte to bee of neidher kynde; Angelles alleyne fromme chafe desyre bee free; Dheere ys a somwhatte evere yn the mynde, Yatte, wythout wommanne, cannot stylled bee, Ne seynete yn celles, botte, havynge blodde and tere, [fayre: Do fynde the spryte to joie on syghte of womanne Wommen bee made, notte for hemselves botte manne, Bone of hys bone, and chyld of hys desire; Fromme an ynutylle membere fyrste begaune, Ywroghte with moche of water, lyttele fyre; Therefore theie seke the fyre of love, to hete The milkyness of kynde, and make hemselfes complete. Albeytte, wythout wommen, menne were pheeres Tochelod yn angel joie heie angeles bee; Go, take thee swythyn to thie bedde a wyfe, Bee bante or blessed hie yn proovynge marry age lyfe. Anodher Mynstrelles Songe, bie Syr Thybbot Gorges. As Elynour bie the green lesselle was syttynge, As from the Sones hete she harried, She sayde, as herr whytte hondes whyte hosen was knyttynge, "Whatte pleasure ytt ys to be married! "Mie husbande, lorde Thomas, a forrester boulde, As ever clove pynne, or the baskette, Does no chery sauncys from Elynour houlde, I have ytte as soone as I aske ytte. "Whann I lyved wyth mie fadre yn merrie Clowd-Dell, Tho' twas at my liefe to mynde spynnynge, I stylle wanted somethynge, botte whatie ne coulde telle, [nynge. Mie lorde fadres barbde3 haulle han ne wyn"Eche mornynge I ryse, doe 1 sette mie maydennes, [bleachynge, Somme to spynn, somme to curdell, somme Gyff any new entered doe aske for mie aidens, Thann swythynne you fynde mee a teachynge. "Lorde Walterre, mie fadre, he loved me welle, And nothynge unto mee was nedeynge, Botte schulde I agen goe to merrie Cloud-dell, In sothen twoulde bee wythoute redeynge." 3 Bardé, barbed or trapped, as a great horse Bardes, barbes or trappings for horses of service or of show. Cotgrave. The word is peculiarly appropriated to horses, and therefore misapplied here. Ælla, the Danes ar thondrynge onn our coaste; Lyche scolles of locusts, caste oppe bie the sea, Magnus and Hurra, wythe a doughtie hoaste, Are ragyng, to be quansed bie none botte thee; Haste, swyfte as levynne to these royners flee: Thie dogges alleyne can tame thys ragynge bulle. Haste swythyn, fore anieghe the towne theie bee, And Wedecesterres rolle of dome bee fulle. Haste, haste, O Alla, to the byker flie, For yn a momentes space tenne thousand menne maie die. O mie upswalynge harte, what words can saie The peynes, thatte passethe ynn mie soule ybrente? Thos to bee torne uponne mie spousalle daie, O! 'tys a peyne beyond entendemente. Yee mychtie goddes, and is yor favoures sente As thous faste dented to a loade of pevne? Moste wee aie holde yn chace the shade content, And for a bodykyn1 a swarthe obteyne? O! whie, yee seynctes, oppress yee thos mie sowle? [dreeric dole? How shalle I speke mie woe, mie freme, mie CELMONDE. Sometyme the wyseste lacketh pore mans rede. Reasonne and counynge wytte efte flees awaie. Thanne, loverde lette me saie, wyth hommaged drede, (Bieneth your fote ylayn) mie counselle saie; Gyff thos wee lett the matter lethlen laie, 4 This diminutive never was used as a mere synonym of its original word. Dean Miles adduces God's bodikins. This oath cannot be received in evidence. The formenn, everych honde-poyncte, getteth fote. Mie loverde, lett the speere-menne, dyghte for And all the sabbataners goe aboute. [fraie, I speke, mie loverde, alleyne to upryse [alyse. Youre wytte from marvelle, and the warriour to ELLA. Ah! nowe thou pottest takells yn mie harte; Mie soulghe dothe nowe begynne to see herselle; I wylle upryse mie myghte, and doe mie parte, To slea the foemenne yn mie furie felle. [telle, Botte howe canne tynge mie rampynge fourie Whyche ryseth from mie love to Birtha fayre? Ne coulde the queede, and alle the myghte of Helle, Founde out impleasaunce of syke blacke agearc. Yette I wylle bee mieselfe, and rouze mie spryte To acte wythe rennome, and goe meet the bloddie fyghte. BIRTHA. No, thou schalte never leave thie Birtha's syde: I have mie parte of drierie dole and peyne; Gyff drerie dole ys thyne, tys twa tymes myne. Goe notte, O Ella; wythe thie Birtha staie; For wyth thie semmlykeed mie spryte wyll goe awaie, ELLA. O! tys for thee, for thee alleyne I fele; Yett I muste bee micselfe; with valoures gear I'lle dyghte mie hearte, and notte mie lymbes yn stele, And shake the bloddie swerde and steyned spere. BIRTHA, Can Ella from hys breaste hys Birtha teare? Is shee so rou and ugsomme to bys syghte? Entrykeynge wyght! ys leathall warre so deare? Thou pryzest mee belowe the joies of fyghte. Thou scalte notte leave mee, albeytte the erthe Hong pendaunte bie thy swerde, and craved for thy morthe. ELLA. Dyddest thou kenne howe mie woes, as starres ybrente, Headed bie these thie wordes doe onn mee falle, Thou woulde stryve to gyve mie harte contente, Wakyng mie slepynge mynde to honnoures calle. Of seiynesse I pryze thee moe yan all [quyre, Heaven can mee sende, or counynge wytt acYtte I wylle leave thee, onne the foe to falle, Retournynge to thie eyne with double fyre. BIRTHA. Moste Birtha boon requeste and bee denyd? Receyve attenes a darte yn selynesse and pryde? Doe staie, att leaste tylle morrowes sonne apperes. |