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A19317
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Iyl of braintfords testament Newly compiled.
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Copland, Robert, fl. 1508-1547.
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1567
(1567)
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STC 5730; ESTC S105071
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5,499
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16
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Iyl of braintfords Testament Newly Compiled Proface maistris Iyllian with your company I pray you fil you not to much of the mutton I promise you that it is very queisy And or ye be ware wil make your bely button Take no thought good sir how I shall be fild But come you neer take parte of our swilling Leue your curtesy I pray you be pyld And couer your head I be shrew the filling ¶ Prologus of Robert Copland the auctor AT Brentforde on y e west of London Nigh to a place that called is Syon Ther dwelt a widow of a holy sort Honest in substance full of sport Daâ—ly she could with pastime and Iests Among her neighbours and her guests She kept an Inne of right good lodging For all estates that thither were comming It chaunced this widow as it is supposed In her sporte and merily disposed After her death for a remembrance Thought to haue some matter of pastance For pâ—ople to laughe at in such company As are disposed for to talke merily Mingled with many proper scoffes boords Of sundry tauntes with some meâ—y wordes The which I haue heard at many seasons Full of pastime with prety reasons For yf any did a thing ouerthwart They saide euer ye shall haue a fart Of Iyll of Brantford for your paine The which laying oft troubled my brayne For I neuer knâ—w what the matter was Nor could the meaning bring to passe Till at the last vpon a day I met on Iohn hardlesay A mery felow in ech company Which said Copland thou lookest dry The truthe quod I is as ye say For I drank not of al this day And of a short tale to make an end to the red lyon at the shambles end We went for to drink good ale and as he was telling his tale I offered him for to drink first Copland quoth he art thou a thirst And biddeth me afore the to drink to my iudgement I do think Of Iyll of Brentforde worthy thou art by her bequest to haue a fart And truly now is come to my mynde not long ago how I did finde An olde scrow all ragged and rent beseming it is some mery entent As diuers say that do it reed but gallant toyes ther semes indeed It is Antick broken and so raced that all the cheef is clene defaced Take it and I pray the hartely looke theron and if thou espy That it be of any substance of mirth or of honest pastaunce And where thou spiest that it dooth want or where for lack the matter is scant Put to it as is according to the matter in euery thing Keep it with thee and take sum payne the poore mare shall haue his man again ¶ Whan I came home at leisure My hart not parfitly at pleasure For the losse of a certain freend As God knowes few be to finde For recreation I it toke to pas the time theron to loke And of troth oft in the reding it did stir me to fall on smiling Considering the prety pastime and rydicle order of the rime The couert termes vnder a mery sence shewing of many the blinde insolence Taunting of things past and to come where as my self was hit with some And for that cause I did intend after this manner to haue it pend Praying all them that mery be if it touch them not to blame me ¶ An end of the prologue Heere foloweth the preface and Testament of mistres Iyllyen of Braintford THis mery widow mastres Iyllian On a day dysposed ioyfully By any way that I presuppose can Ordeyned a little banket of deinty At the which to bere her company For certaine of her neighbours she sent and for her Curat to be there present Praying him for to bring paper and ynke To write somwhat after her entent She made him cheere of her meat and drink That doon she said this is mine intent That you as now shall write my testament For I doo feel that age dooth me oppresse Good is to haue all thing in redinesse My neighbours here shall be with you record how I am penitent at this making And whole of minde now thanks to our Lord how be it I haue oft a shrewd shaking Ye shalbe pleased for your pain taking yea maistres quod he I am your curate I am bound to serue you erly and late Wel than quod she In dei nomine Amen My soule I â—equeth to our Lord almight He hath it made it is his owne then he hath it bought it is his be right In heauen to be in the eternall light and to the earth I bequethe my body It is his owne I can it not deny My sinnes all I commit to the Deuil let him take them with him to hell For he was the causer of all mine euill My goodes to the world of I doo wel For they be his I can it not expell heere I found them heere they must remain Saue fame name I leaue nothing certain Now vnto my freends reason is I should haue a singuler aspect by nature I giue vnto them all that they holde Asmuch as I doo to any creature if they get ought then are they sure After my death yf they do for me I bequethe to them of my charitie But now good sir I pray you for to take This cup of ale and drink ones for Gods sake For I am disposed to ordain a dole to all manner people thorow a hole For I would not haue to ouer much prease Lest that with throng my almes should cease Now ye haue drunk ones good ghostly father I trust for to make an end the rather ¶ And write as I doo bid you hardly I bequethe a fart to him that is angry with his freend and wots not why To him that selleth all his herytage And all his life liueth in seruage I bequethe a fart for him in his age He that sets by no man nor none by him And to promotion fain would clim I bequethe a fart for to make him trim He that wil not lerne and can doo nothing And with lewd folk is euer conuersing I bequethe a fart toward his liuing He that boroweth without aduantage And euer more renueth in arrerage I bequeath a fart for to lye to gage He that giueth and keepeth nought at all And by kindenes to pouertie dooth fall Shall haue a fart to help him with all He that is euer wayward at hart And with euery man is ouerthwart For to please him I bequethe a fart He that hath drink in his hand and is dry Bidding him drink first that standeth him by I bequethe a fart his thirst to satisfy He that hath a faâ—re wench in bed all night And kisseth her not onse or it be day light Shall haue a fart to clense his eye sight He that lendeth a horse with all things meet and on his own voyage goeth on his feet Shall haue a fart to keep him fro weet He that suffereth all maner of