hood All is consumed all spent and worne be So is all goodnesse and welthe of the cyte The temples pylled dothe bytterly complayne Poore people wayleth and cal for helpe in vayne Poore wydous sorowe and chyldren fatherles In vayne bewayleth whan wolues them oppresse Syn hath no scourge and vertu no rewarde Who loueth wysoome his fortune is but harde Counceyll and cunnynge now tombles in the dust But what is the cause lawe tourned is to lust Lust standeth in stede of lawe and of Justyce Wherby good lyuynge subdued is by vyce ¶ Amyntas I tell the Faustus this hastynes of the Passeth the bondes of ryght and honeste All men thou blamest by wrothe and hastynesse As all cytezyns were full of vycyousnesse What man remembre some lyue in innocence Some in the Cyte be partles of offence ¶ Faustus I am not angry I saye but veryte Here me Amyntas one clause with breuyte As many todes as bredeth in Irelonde As many Grypes as bredeth in Englonde As many Cockowes as synge in January And nyghtyngales as synge in February And as many whalys as swymmeth in the fen So many ben there in cytes of good men ¶ Amyntas A good man is geason not easy to be founde On londe or in cyte or ouer all the grounde Many thynges longe vnto a parfyte man Aske that of Codrus declare the trouthe he gan Badnes encreaseth and ouer fast dothe growe Goodnes and vertu in comynge vp ben slowe ¶ Faustus Thou art madde I trowe so many foes haue we As dwell cytezyns in all the hole cyte They clyp vs they poll vs they pyll vs to the skyn And what they may get y â— thynke they well to wyâ— To theft they constrayne vs I tell the by all Halows And after by and by they sende vs to the Galows Therfore it is reason yf ought of theyrs hap Or come to our clawes it pryuely to trap They vs oft dysceyue dysceyue we them agayne Deuyse we slyly gyle subtyll and trayne But this Amyntas to me is gretest grefe And doubt for it is yll stelynge from a thefe Yf it be secret we maye it well deny Yf it be knowen excuse it craftely Preue felony thoughe it be vsed longe Is not called theft but iniury and wronge All that they haue within these townes playne Is our harde labour sore trauayle grete payne ¶ Amyntas Now thou excedest the marke of equyte Thou passest reason Faustus I tell to the ¶ Faustus What than Amyntas haue pacyence a whyle Towne dwellers vyces dothe all the worle defyle The ayre is corrupt by theyr enormyte These somer stormes wheÌ„ce come they tell thou me Lyghtnynge grete wyndes flodes hayle thundre I well remembre oâ—ttyme the grounde here vnder Ryght sore hathe quaked and caused houses fall Uyce of the cyte is rote and cause of all The sonne in myddaye oftyme hathe lost his lyght In lykewyse the mone in season of the nyght Bothe hathe ben blacke or elles reed as blode This sygne Amyntas pretendeth vs no good Why growe the wedes and cokyll in the corne Why is haye and grasse oftymes all forlorne Why lose we our sede our labour und expence Where cometh moryen and greuous pestylence All these procedeth by madde enormyte And corrupte maners of them of the cyte And wors is lykely yet afterwarde to fall Yf they not refourme theyr lyuynge bestyall Whence came the furour of harnes and batayle Which causeth wydowes theyr spouies to bewayle Whiche bryngeth with it all kynde of mysery As theft and murdre grete deth and penury Forsoth in cytees this furour fyrste began To the confusyon of many a doughty man The cyte is well and grounde orygynall Bothe fyrst and last of dedely ylles all Bredde in the cyte was cruell Lycaon Bredde amonge herbes was good Dewcalyon Amonge shepeherdes norysshed was Rennus And also his brother the myghty Romulus The cause of the flode in Cyte fyrste began Wherby was wasted nere euery best and man Our lorde dsteroyed v. Cytes for outrage Rede where for synnes he wasted one vyllage I trowe whan the worlde with fyre shall wasted be The cause shall procede and come of some cyte What shall I touche the sauour and the stynke Whiche is in cytes of gutter and of synke There men be choked with vyle and deedly sent Here haue we odour of floures redolent I count me happy whiche won in the vyllage As vndefyled with Cytezyns outrage ¶ Amyntas Haue done now Faustus lave there a strawe and test Fyll we our bely with cruddes that is best Leue we the cyte and all Cyuyle outrage Now it is season to torne to the potage After our dyner is best as in my mynde The rest to declare y fought remayne behynde ¶ Finis ¶ Here endeth the. v. Eglog of Alexandre Barclay of the Cytezyn and vplondysshman Inprynted at London in flete strete at the sygne of sonne by Wynkyn de worde wynkyn de worde
tourment of wretchyd Tantalus Whiche as sayd Fawstus whose saynge I may thinke In flode and fruytys may neyther ete nor drynke Auncyent poetes this Tantalus do fayne In hell condemnyd to suffer suche payne That vp to the chyn in water doth he stande And to his vpper lyp retche apples a thousande But whan he wolde drynke the water doth dyscende And whan he wolde ete the apples doth ascende So both fruyt and water them kepyth at a stent In myddes of pleasour haue courters lyke tourmēt But now to tell table for to retourne agayne There hast thou yet another greuous payne That whan other talke speke what they wyll Thou dare nat whysper but as one dom be styl And yf thou ought speke pryuey or aperte Thou art to besy callyd malaperte If thou call for ought by worde sygne or becke Thā Jacke w t the busshe shal tant the with a checke One recheth the bread with grutche murmurynge If thou of some other demaunde any thynge He hath at thy askynge great scorne dysdayne By cause y t thou syttest whyle he standyth in payne Somtyme the seruauntys be blynde ignorant And spy nat what thynge vpon the bord doth want If they se a fawt they wyll it nat attende By neglygent scorne dysdaynynge it to mende Somtyme thou wantest other bread or wyne But nought dare thou aske yf y u sholde neuer dyne Demaunde salt trenchour spone or other thynge Than art thou unportune euer more crauynge And so shall thy name be spred to thy payne For at the shall all haue scorne dysdayne Somtyme art thou erkyd of them at the table But moche more art thou of the seruynge rable The hungry seruers whiche at the table stande At euery morsell hath iye vnto thy hande So moche on thy morsell dystract is theyr mynde They gape whā thou gapyst oft bytynge y ◠wynde By cause that thy leuyngys is only theyr part If thou fede the well sore greued is theyr hart Namely of a dysshe costly and deynteous Eche pece that thou cuttest to them is tedyous Than at the cupborde one doth another tell Se how he fedeth lyke the deuyll of hell Our parte he eteth nought good shall we tast Than pray they to god that it be thy last ¶ Coridon ¶ I had leuer Cornix go souperles to bed Than at suche a faste to be so bested Better it is with chese and bread one to fyll Than with great deynte with anger and yll wyll Or a small handfull with rest and sure pleasance Than twenty dysshes with wrathfull countenance ¶ Cornix ¶ That can Amintas recorde and testefy But yet is in court more payne and mysery Brought in by dysshes the table for to fyll But nat one is brought in order at thy wyll That thou wolde haue fyrst and louest pryncypall Is brought to the borde of tymes last of all With bread and rude mete whan thou art sacyate Than cometh dysshes most swete and delycate Than must thou other dyspyse them vtterly Or to thy hurte surfet ensuynge glotony But yf it fortune as seldom dothe befall That at begynnynge come dysshes best of all Or thou hast tasted a morsell other twayne Thy dysshe out of syght is taken sone agayne Slowe be the seruers in seruynge in alway But swyft be they after takynge thy meat away A specyall costom is vsyd them amonge No good dysshe to suffer on borde to be longe If the dysshe be pleasant other flesshe or fysshe Ten handes at onys swarme in the dysshe And yf it be flesshe ten knyues shall thou se Manglynge the flesshe in the platter fle To put there thy hande is peryll without fayle Without a gantelet or els a gloue of mayle Amonge all these knyues thou one of both must haue Or els is it harde thy fyngers hole to saue Oft in suche dysshes in court is it sene Some leue theyr fyngers eche knyfe is so kene On a fynger gnawyth some hasty gloton Supposynge it a pees of befe or of motton Besyde these in court mo paynes shalt thou se At borde be men set as thycke as they may be The platters shall pas of tymes to fro And ouer the sholders hede shall they go And oft all the brothe and lycour fat Is spylt on thy gowne thy bonet and thy hat Somtyme art thou thrust for lytell rowme and place And somtyme thy felowe reboketh in thy face Bytwene dysshe and dysshe is tary tedyous But in y ◠mean tyme though y u haue payne greuous Neyther mayst thou ryse cough spyt or nese Or take other easemēt lest thou thy name may lese For suche as this wyse to eas them ar wont In nombre of rascaldes courters them count Of mete is none houre nor tyme of certente Yet from begynnynge absent yf thou be Other shalt thou lose thy meat and kys the post Or yf by fauour thy sowper be nat lost Thou shalt at lest way rebukes sour abyde For nat attendynge faylynge of thy tyde Onyons or garlyke whiche stamped Testyles Nor yet swete lekes mayst thou nat etc ywys ¶ Coridon ¶ What forsake garlyke lekys and butter swete Nay rather wolde I go to Ely on my fete We counte these deyntyes and meates very good These be chefe dysshes and ruall mennys food ¶ Cornix ¶ Who court frequenteth must loue the dysshes swete And lordes dysshes to hym ar no thynge mete As for our metys they may nat ete I thynke By cause great lordes may nat abyde the stynke But yet lordes syege and ruall mennys or dure Be lyke of sauour for all theyr meates pure As for comon meatys of them pleasour is small By cause one seruyce of them contynuall Allayeth pleasour for voluptuosyte Wyll haue of dysshes chaunge and dyuersyte And whan thou hast smellyd meat more delycyous Thy course dayly fare to the is tedyous Now Judge Coridon yf here in be pleasour Me thynke it anguysshe sorowe dolour Contynuall care and vter mysery Affliceyon of herte wretchyd penury But many folys thynke it is nothynge so Whyle they se courters out warde so gayly go The coursers seruantys cloch syluer golde And other lyke thynges delyte they to beholde But nough they regard the inward mysery Whiche them oppressyth in court contynually And as sayth Seueke some count them fortunate Whiche outwarde apere well clothed or ornate But yf thou behelde theyr inwarde wretchydnes Theyr dayly trouble theyr fruytles besynes Than wolde thou count them bothe vyle myserable Theyr rowme and offyce bothe fals desceyuable For lyke as men paynt olde wallys ruynous So by they payntyd theyr lyfe contraryous And therfore all they whiche serue in court gladly For tast or smellynge or spyce of glotony Haue lyke more wretchyd than burgyes or marchant Whiche with theyr wyues haue loue lyfe pleasant Shepherdes haue nat so wretchyd lyfe as they Though they leue porely on cruddes chese whey On apples plommes and drynke
only now and than By stelth stertys as pryuey as thou can To loue and thy lorde mayst thou nat serue togyder If so thy wyt is dystract thou wâ—t nat whether Thy lorde doth chalange to hym thy hole seruyce And the same doth loue chalange in lyke wyse Nat onely it is harde in the court to saue Thy lemmad chast with hyr pleasour to haue But also it is extreme dyffyculte Thyn owne wyfe in court to kepe in chastyts For flaterynge wowers on euery syde apere And lusty galandes of fayre dystymulyd chere Some promes gold and gyftes great or small Some hasty galand is yet before them all So many wowers bawdys and brokers Flatterers lyers and hasty proferes Be alway in court that chast penolope Coude skant amonge them preserue her chastyte So great temptacyon no woman may resyste In heuenly power hyr myght do nat assyste For craft and coyne flatery and instaunce Tourneth chaste myndes to vyle mysgouernaunce Though she be honest yet must thou leue thy loue Syth prynces courtes contynually remoue Then Whether she be thy wyfe or concubyne Her care and dolour is great and so is thyne For neyther mayst thou ther styll with hyr abyde Nor lede her with the or kepe her be thy syde Whan thou art gone yf she behynde remayne Than fear the trowblyth with tourmeÌ„t w t payne By cause that the mynde of women is onstable Alway thou doubtest lest she be chauugeable And I assure the yf man be out of syght The mynde of woman to retourne is very lyght Onys out of syght and shortly out of mynde This is theyr maner apere the neuer so kynde Adde to all these scorne and derysyon Whiche thou mayst suffer greate suspeccyon Infamy sclaunder and preuey Jalowsy These must thou suffer without all remedy And other daungers mo than a man can thynke Whyle other slepyth the louer skant doth wynke Who hath these prouyd shall none of them desyre For chyldren brent styll after dredyth fyre Syth that the se thynges to all men be greuous They be to courtes yet moost dammagyous Moost paynfull noyons and playnly importable In court them felynge hath no thynge delectable ¶ Coridon ¶ I se the pleasour of towchynge is but small I thought it hony I se now it is gall Now speke on Cornix I pray the brefely tell What ioy haue courters in tastynge or to smell For these two wyttes in court be recreate Ellys many wretchys be there infatuat ¶ Cornix ¶ The smell and tastynge partly conioyned be And parte dysioyned as I shall tell to the For whyle we receyue some meatys delycate The smell tastynge than bothe be recreate The fragraunt odour and oyntment of swete flour Onely delytyth the smellynge with odour Of meate delycyous gone is bothe smell and tast Whan it is chewyd and through the gorge past But they whiche in mouth haue pleasour pryncypall Or beestly folys and of lyuynge brutall The famous shepherde whom Nero dyd behede Them greatly blamyth whiche beestly vse to fede Whiche for theyr wombe chefe care labour take And of theyr belyes ar wont theyr god to make ¶ Coridon ¶ A god of the wombe that harde I neuer ere ¶ Cornix ¶ Coridon thou art nat to olde for to lere I playnly shall now declare for thy sake Now beestly glottons god of theyr wombes make To god ar men wont temples to edyfye And costly auters to ordayne semblably To ordayne mynysters to execute seruyce To offer beestes by way of sacryfyce To burne in temples well smellynge ensence Glottons to the wombe do all this reuerence ¶ Coridon ¶ They and theyr gooddes come to confucyon Whiche forgeth ydolys by suche abusyon But procede Cornix tell on in wordys playne How all these thynges they to the wombe ordayne Whiche is in temple the auter and insence And the mynysters to do theyr dylygence Within the temple to kepe alway seruyce And to the bely whiche is the sacryfyce ¶ Cornix ¶ To god of the belly glotons a temple make Of the smoky kechyn for temple it they take Within this temple mynystre bawdy cookes And yonge scolyons with fendes of theyr lokes The solem awter is the borde or table With dysshes charged twenty in a rable The beestes offcyd in sacryfyce or hoste In dyuers sortes of sodyn and of roste The sawe is ensence or of the mete the smell And of this temple these be the chefe vessell Platers and dysshes morter and pot crokys Pottis and pestels broches and flesshe hokes And many mo els than I count or tell They knowe them best whiche with the kycheÌ„ mell For god of the wombe this seruice men prepare As for theyr true god full lytell is theyr care ¶ Coridon ¶ This lyfe is beestly and vtterly damnable ¶ Cornix ¶ But yet it is now reputed comendable Prynces and comons and some of relygyon Unto this temple haue chefe deuocyon To cokes and tauernes some erlyer frequent Than vnto seruyce of god omnipotent Fyrst serue the belly than after serue our lorde Suche is the worlde though it do yll accorde And suche as delytyth in beestly glotony Folowith the court supposynge stedfastly With mete and with drynke to stofe well the paunche Whose lust insacyate no flode of hell can staunche And for that prynces vse costely mete and wyne These folys suppouse to fede them with as fyne To ete and to drynke as swete delycate As doth theyr prynces or other great estate Lyke wyse as flyes doth folowe and thycke swarme About â—at paunches vnto theyr vtter harme So suche men as haue in glotony confort To lordes kechyns moost besely resorte With hungry throtys yet go the oft away And oft haue the flyes moche greater part than they ¶ Coridon ¶ Than tell on Cornix what confort and pleasour Men fyndyth in court in tastynge sauour With meate and drynke how they theyr wombes fyll And whether thy spede at pleasour at wyll ¶ Coridon ¶ To ete and to drynke than is moost ioye lust Whan men be hungry or greuyd sore with trust But oft vnto nowne must thou abyde respyte Than tournyd is hounger to doggys appetyte For playne wood houngry that tyme is many one That some wolde gladly be gnauynge on a bone On whiche vyle currys hath gnawen on before His purs is empty and houngre is so sore Or some by feblenes and wery taryenge Lese theyr appetyte that they can ete nothynge Some other hath etyn some bread chese before That at theyr dyner they lust to eate no more Theyr stomake stopyd and closyd with some crust From them hath takyn theyr appetyte lust Than other courters of maners beestyall With gredy mouthes deuowreth more than all Thus some at rysynge be fuller then be swyne And some for hunger agayne may syte and dyne Somtyme to gyder must thou bothe dyne sup And somtyme thou dynest before the sonne be vp But yf thou refuse to ete before day lyght Than must
wolfe pore lambes to deuour Whan busshe or bramblys pellyd the shepys skayn Than had he pyte and kept them close within Or in newe flecys dyd tenderly them lap And with his scyrtys dyd oftentyme them hap Whan he departed his flocke for wo was faynt The foldes sounded with dolour and complaynt So that theyr clamour and crye bespred the yle His dede was mourned from Ely forty myle These worthy herdys and many other mo Were with theyr wethers in lone conioyned so That more they curyd by wyt and pacyence Than dredfull Drome can do with violence Therfore all herdes vnto the wolde I trowe Sholde lawd theyr names yf wertue reigned nowe But syth that conynge vertue nere be gone Nowe be they law dyd forsothe of fewe or none I let thy purpos to make conclusyon Uyce lyueth vertue hath lyght oblyuyon But speke on Cornix yet is it longe to nyght My mynde to dysclose causeth my hert to be lyght ¶ Cornix ¶ To lawde these pastours wherfore haste thou delyte ¶ Coridon ¶ All other shepherdys to vertue to excyte ¶ Eornix ¶ Than be thy wordys no thynke mysspent in vayne But nowe to courtys wyll I retourne agayne And namely for thou hast spokyn of konnyge Me lyst a lytle to comon of that thynge It is to clerkes great pleasour certaynly And recreacyon to gyue them to study And some fynde pleasour and recreacyon In secrete study and meditacyon To wryte or to rede in placys solytary Hole to the musis his reason to apply To talke with Plato with Tully or Uirgill With Aristotle to comon at his wyll And other famous doctours many one ¶ Coridon ¶ What man all these longe past be dede and gone Who wolde with suche deput common or talke To go where they be shall fynde a wery walke ¶ Cornix ¶ Though they be dede alyue yet is theyr name These lawdes honour theyr hye report of fame So men deuyseth to speke with them in dede As often as they theyr noble workes rede But as for courters as well erly as late Be of this pleasour playne vtterly pryuate Though they lyue ydle theyr paynes infenyte To godly warkes them graunteth no respyte Alway in clamour remayne they and in preas And lewde aquayntance wyll them no tyme releas But yf that they chose some season secretly To some good stody theyr myndesto aply To wryte or to rede anone some wretche is fayne And glad them to vex to dystorbe agayne But yf all other be absent and at rest Than neuer theyr chaÌ„ber the kychyn clerke is prest Jenglynge his counters chattynge hymselfe alone Thus seke all corners quyet thou fyndest none So must on despyse those noble oratours The famous poetys and excellent doctours And lyue amonge the auoyde of vertues all That rather a man rude beestys may them call Of great estatys there is a blynded sort Whiche cause theyr sonys vnto the court resort That they may in court themselfe dayly frequent In lernynge vertue and maners excellent But better myght they say to lerne all malyce All cursed maners and euery braunche of vyce As Pryde dysdayne enuy rybawdry So be good maners infect with vyllayne For surely in courtes be men moost vicyous Supportynge vyces to vertue contraryous Dyshonest langage is countyd moost lawdable One bosteth baudry or glotony damnable No man there vauntyth hymselfe of honeste Of vertue maners of mercy nor Pyte But other he ioyeth of his myscheuous lyfe To haue defyled a virgin or a wyfe Or els to haue slayne his fo or ennemy Or fraude coÌ„mytted or crafty felony Whiche cursyd maners youth sooner doth insue Than godly lyuynge or maners of vertue Whan youth in vyces hath fyxed theyr cowrage They by no meanys shall leue the same in age Nor thyncke nat in court to fynde a yonge strypelynge Chast sober shamfast or maners ensuynge All sueth vyces all sue enormyte Suche be the discyples as theyr infourmers be For true is the clawse rehersyd of Therence That youthe inclyned than namely to offence Whan a lewde mayster hym moued to inclyne By yll example to daunger and ruyne For nature leuyth to all enormyte Whan men so vseth whiche be in dignyte Youth thynketh lawfull but a ioconde fyt Suche vyce as elders vse dayly to coÌ„myt And as yonge braunches sone rote putryfy So youth corrupteth by vyces semblably ¶ Coridon ¶ Be all yonge galandes of these abusyd sort Whiche in yonge age vnto the court resorte ¶ Cornix ¶ Who entryth the court in yonge and tender age Are lyghtly blynded with foly and outrage But suche as entryth of wyte and grauyte Bowe nat so soone to suche enormyte But or they enter yf they haue lernyd nought Afterward is coÌ„nyng y â— leste parte of theyr thought In court it is countyd vyce to haue science And countyd for rebuke for to haue eloquence Thus haue men connynge great heuynes payne Beholdynge themselfe in court had in dysdayne Theyr wyt despysed In mean tyme shall they se That greatest maters rulyd Nay marred be Of suche blynde folys as can nat count nor tell A score saue twenty yet most of all suche mell But men vnlernyd of inwarde payne haue some Whan they beholde that to the court be come Men groundly lernyd in latyne coÌ„monynge The other harken and vnderstande no thynge Than truly it is to them a greuous payne But neuertheles of them haue they dysdayne But lyuynge in court and fleynge none offence What shall I comon what grutche of conscience Uexeth the dayly ryght small is thy delyte Whan troubled conscience vnquieth doth the byde No payne is sorer nor greuouser tourment Than to remember and call to thyn intent Howe many vyâ—ys howe great enormyte Hath the in thraldom and in captyuyte Thyne owne conscience is styll within thy brest As tourmentour depryuynge the of rest With pryuey scourges and payne intollerable Recountynge thy warkes and lyke abhominable Thou mayst nat auoyde ne fourme this enmy sterte Fle where the lyketh he restyth in thy herte This is of courters the dedely tourmentour With desperacyon them sekynge to deuour Somtyme theyr conscience grutchyd is with gyle With theft with murder with lechery some whyle Though theyr owne coÌ„scieÌ„ce thus tourmeÌ„t theÌ„ w t payn To the same offences retourne they yet agayne Theyr coÌ„scieÌ„ce grutchyng to cawse of grutche they fal Thus styll them tourment the furyes infernall I mean remenbraunce of many folde offence Contynuall tourment by grutche of coÌ„science What shall I tell the payne of sodeynce fear Whiche doth the myndes of courters often dear Somtyme the lower be greuyd with thretnynge And suffer paynes whan they haue done no thynge Somtyme whyle the court is daunsynge in dysport Or in other solace theyr hartys to confort A none cometh in a soden messagere Affâ—rmynge truely sâ—me armyd foes nere And that same armey is nere at hande doutles Than tourneth solace to wo and heuynes And whyle some prynces for pleasour hawke or hunt Suche ferfull
nere at rest ¶ Cornix ¶ Take vp thy baggage my mate that now is best ¶ Coridon ¶ But tell me Cornix one thynge or we departe On what maner lyfe is best to set my harte In court is combrance care payne and mysery And here is enuy yll wyll and penury ¶ Cornix ¶ Suffrance ouercommeth all malyce at the last Weyke is that tre whiche can nat abyde a blast But here now my councell I byde the fynally Lyue styll a shepherde for playnly so wyll I ¶ Coridon ¶ That I shall Cornix thy good councell fulfyll To dye a shepherde establyd is my wyll ¶ Cornix ¶ So do or after thou often shall repente Pore lyse is surest the court is but tourment ¶ Coridon ¶ ◠diew swete Cornir departynge is a payne But myrthe reneweth whan louers mete agayne ¶ Finis ¶ Thus endeth the thyrde and last egloge of the mysery of court and courters Composed by Alexander Barclay preste in his youthe ¶ The boke of Codrus and Mynalcas ¶ The prologe of the fourthe Eglog of Alexander Barcley COdrus a shepherde lusty gaye and stout Sat w t his wethers at pasture roūde about And poore Mynalcas with ewes scarse fourtene Sat sadly musyng in shadowe on the grene This lusty Codrus was cloked for the rayne And double decked with hoodes one or twayne That this long season none coude the here espy With vs was thou wont to syng full merely And to lye pipyng ofte tyme among the flouers What tyme thy bestes were fedyng among oures In these colde valeys we two were wont to bourde And in these shadowes talke many a mery worde And ofte were we wont to wrastell for a fall But nowe thou droupest and hast forgotten all Here was thou wont swete balades to syng Of song and dytie as it were for a kyng And of gay maters to syng and to endyte But nowe thy courage is gone and thy delyte Trust me Mynalcas nowe playnly I espy That thou arte wery of shepherdes company And that all pleasure thou semest to dispyse Lothyng our pasture and feldes in lykewise Thou fleest solace and euery mery fytte Lesyng thy tyme and sore hurtyng thy wytte In slouthe thou slombrist as buryed were thy song Thy pype is broken or somwhat els is wrong ¶ Mynalcas ¶ What tyme the cocke crowes fethers mout fall From sight she lurketh her song is gone withall Whan backe is bare and purse of coyne is lyght The wytte is dulled and reason hath no might A due endityng whan gone is lyberte Enuy to muses is wretched pouerte What tyme a knight is subget to a knaue To iust or tourney small pleasure shall he haue ¶ Codrus ¶ What no man the kepeth here in captiuyte And busy labour subdueth pouerte And ofte is it better and moche surer also As subget to obey than at frewyll to go As by ensample beholde a wanton colt In ragyng youthe lepeth ouer hyll and holt But whyle he skippeth at pleasure and at wyll Oftyme dothe he fall in daunger for to spyll Somtyme on stubbes his hofes sore he teares Or falles in the mudde bothe ouer heed and eares Somtyme all the night abrode in hayle or rayne And ofte among breres tangled by the mayne And other peryls he suffreth infynite So mengled with sorowe is pleasure and delyte But if the same colte be broken at the last His sytter ruleth and hym refrayneth fast The spurre him pricketh the bridell dothe him holde That he can not praūce at pleasure wher he wolde The ryder hym ruleth and saueth from dangere By whiche example Mynalcas it is clere That frewyll is subget to inconuenyence Where by subgection man voydeth great offence For man of hym selfe is very frayle certayne But ofte a ruler his folly dothe refrayne But as for thy selfe thou hast no cause parde To walke at pleasure is no captiuyte ¶ Mynalcas ¶ Seest thou nat Codrus the feldes rounde about Compased with flodes that none may in nor out The muddy waters nere choke me with the stynke At euery tempest they be as blacke as ynke Pouerte to me shulde be no disconfort If other spepherde were all of the same sort But Codrus I clawe ofte where it dothe nat ytche To se ten beggers and halfe a dosen ritche Truely me thynketh this wrong particion And namely sithe all ought to be after one Whan I first beholde these feldes from a farre Me thought thē plesant boyde of stryfe or warre But with my poore flocke aprochyng nere and nere Alway my pleasure dyde lesse and lesse apere And truely Codrus sithe I came on this grounde Ofte vnder floures vyle snakes haue I founde Adders and todes and many vyle serpent Enfect olde shepe with venym violent And ofte be the yong infected of the olde That vnto these fewe now brought is all my folde ¶ Codrus ¶ In some place is nother venym nor serpent And as for my selfe I fele no greuous sent ¶ Mynalcas It were great marueyle wherso gret groūde is sene yf no small medowe were plesant swete and clene As for the Codrus I may beleue right wele That thou no sauour nor stynke of mud dust fele For if a shepherde hath styll remayned long In a foule prison or in a stynking gong His poores with yll eyre be stopped so echone That of the eyre he feleth small sent or none And yet the dwellers be badder than the place The riche and sturdy dothe threten and manace The poore and symple and suche as came but late And who most knoweth him most of all they hate And all the burthen is on the asses backe But the strong caball standeth at the racke And suche be assigned somtyme the flocke to kepe Whiche scante haue so moche of reason as a shepe And euery shepherde at other hath enuy Scant be a couple whiche loueth parfitely Ilwyll so reigneth that braulyng be thou sure Constrayned me nere to seke a newe pasture Saue onely after I hope of better rest For small occasyon a byrde nat chaungeth nest ¶ Codrus ¶ Wele ere thou graunted that in a small grounde Some plot of pleasure and quyet may be founde So where of herdes assembled is great sorte There some must be good than to the best resorte But leaue we all this tourne to our poynt agayne Of thy olde balades some wolde I here full fayne For often haue I had great pleasure and delyte To here recounted suche as thou dyde endyte ¶ Mynalcas ¶ ye other shepherdes which haue ynough at home Whan ye be mery and stuffed is your wombe Whiche haue great store of butter chese and woll your cowes vthers of mylke replete and full Payles of swete mylke as full as they be able Whan your fat disshes smoke hote vpon yor table Than laude ye songes and balades magnify If they be mery or written craftely ye clappe your handes and to the makyng harke And one say to other lo here a proper warke But whan ye haue said nought
fle the labour of the lande All ydle tryfles such taketh on theyr hande Styli be they busy and neuer come to ende To thynge profytable do fewe of them intende Some lyue by rapyne gyle fraude and polecy Pariury opprelsyon and some in vsury Some gladly borowe and neuer paye agayne Some kepe from seruaūtes y e stipēd of theyr payne Some rest men gyltles and caste them in pryson Some by stronge theues out of the dongyon Some fawn some flater mā trust not whā they smyle Than frame the fraudes men slyly to begyle Some in one houre more promes to the wyll Than all his dayes he thynketh to fulfyll By thousande meanes of fraude and craftynesse Ly they in wayte for honour and rychesse They fede the ryche and often let the pore Dye for pure colde and hungre at theyr dore We fede fat oxen they Marmosettes kepe We fede fat Kyddes Lambes and good shepe And they fede hawes apes also houndes And small is theyr Joye saue here w tin our boūdes We brynge them butter egges chese and woll Tancardes of mylde and creame fletynge full All maner flesshe and all theyr hole lyuynge Without our labour treuly they haue nothynge We are the feders of wethers and fat hogges And they of the'cyte fede byrdes and grete dogges Now Juge Amyntas whiche of these semeth the Of most auauntage and most nobylyte ¶ Amyntas Yf by your labour procedeth more rychesse And most auaūtage as semeth trouthe doubteles Than this Imeruayle that the they of the cyte Haue so grete pleynte and we necessyte The cause can not I call to my remembraunce Wherof procedeth theyr store and habundaunce ¶ Faustus The cause I tolde the what woldest thou haue more By fraude and flashode haue they so mykyll store Seest thou not playnly how they of the cyte Dayly dysceyueth our poore symplycyte With that cruelte agaynste vs they rage By fals oppressyon or fayre fayned langage They thynke it pleasoure that sorowe on them hap By glosed wordes to take vs in trappe The most of them all count it an almes dede Us herdes to fraude this is a gentyll mede For them we labour in here wynde colde and rayne And fraude bysceyte the paye vs for our payne With myndes and tongue they stody and they muse Bothe daye and nyght vs herdes to abuse Theyr wyt and body all hole do they ply For vs poore wretches to stody polecy And after theyr fraude gyle and decepcyon Than do they laughe vs vnto derysyon ¶ Amyntas How came thou to knowledge of this enormyte And of these maners of them of the cyte My selfe there wonned and there was couuersaunt Of some of these thynges yet am Jygnoraunt ¶ Faustus Thou coude not perceyue well theyr enormyte Parchaūce thy maners dyde with theyr lyfe agre There seldome is sene grete contradyccyon Where men accordeth in dysposycyon No faute with moryans is blacke dysformyte Because all the sorte lyke of theyr fauour be So couthe thou not se theyr vyces nor them blame Because thy owne lyfe was fyled with the same But how I knowe them now shall I tell to the Whyle I brought butter to sell to the Cyte And other vytayle I vsed mylke to cry Than hadde I knowledge with an apotecary Of hym I lerned moche fashode and practyse Not to the purpose the same to excercyse He couthe make playsters newe cōmyxcyons In valour scant worthe a couple of onyens Yet solde he the same as it were golde so dere Namely yf happened ony infectyfe yere I was aquaynted with many an hucster With a costardemonger and with an hostle◠This thefe was crafty poore people to be gyle None lyke I suppose within a dosen myle Amonge all other his fraudes and his crymes He solde one botell of hey a dosen tymes And in the otes couthe he well droppe a candell Well knewe he how his gestes for to handle And in the same In there dwelt a prety pryme She couthe well flater and glose with hym hym And necke a mesure her smyrkynge gan her sale She made ten shylynge of one barell of ale Whome she begyled in pottes she was fayne To wyn them w t flesshe and paynted loke agayne And as I remembre her name was wanton besse Who leest with her delt he thryued not the lesse What nede more processe no crafte of the cyte Is but is myngled with fraunde and subtylte Saue onely the crafte of an apotycary That is all fraude and gylefull polecy But all these wolde swere that they were innocent Or they totlhe cyte dyde fyrste of all frequent There lerned they thefce and fraude to exercyse And man of nature is moued soone to vyce Some be also whiche spende theyr patrymony Whiche was to them lette by theyr olde auncestry On queanes bawdes in ryot and dronkenesse Theyr name defylynge despysynge all goodnesse With cost and paynes suche busuly labour Sekynge for shame and dethe before theyr houre Saye where is custome of fornycacyon Incest auoutry and destoracyon Forsynge of women murdre and rapyne Dyscorde braulynge nnd lyuynge lyke to swyne Malyce enuy and all iniquyte Do these not rayne in myddes of the cyte All newe abusyon prouokynge men to synnes Hadde fyrst begynnynge amonge the cytezyns Where dwell grete prynces aud myghty gouernours Theyr lyfe dyspysynge for to haue vayne honours Capytaynes souldyours and all lyke company Whiche put for money theyr lyfe in ieopardy These dwell not vpon londe but haunteth the cyte Pore herdes fyght not but for necessyte For lyberte lyfe and iustyce to vpholde Towne dwellers fyght for vayne honour golde We fyght our frendes and housholde to defende They fyght for malyce to ryches to ascende Our cause and quarell is to meynteyne the ryght But all on selfe wyll without reason they fyght They seke by woundes for honour and rychesse And dryue the wekest to hardest busynes O blynde sowdyour why settest thou thy hert For a vayne stypende agayne a mortall darte By thousande peryllys thou takest thy passage For a small Lucre rennynge to grete dammage Theyr swete lyfe they gyue for a poore stypende And ofte lese they bothe and heuen at the ende Whyle some contendeth and fyghteth for his wage His lyfe he spendeth than fare well auauntage What is more folysshe or lyker to madnesse Than to spende the lyfe for glory and rychesse What thynge is glory laude praysynge or fame What honour report or what is noble name Forsothe nought but voyce of wytles comonte And vayne opynyon subiecte to to vanyte Proceste of yeres reuoluynge of season Bryngeth all these soone in oblyuyon Whan lyfe is faded all these ben out of syght Lyke as with the sonne departeth the daye lyght They all be fooles whiche medleth with the see And other wyse myght lyue in theyr owne countre He is but a foole whiche runneth to tempest And myght lyue on londe in suerte and in rest He is but a foole whiche hathe of good plenty And it dysdayneth to