Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n
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A12297
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Here after foloweth a lytell boke, whiche hath to name, Why come ye nat to courte compyled by maystr Skelton poete Laureate.; Why come ye nat to courte
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Skelton, John, 1460?-1529.
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1545
(1545)
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STC 22615; ESTC S110981
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12,558
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64
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For he was parde No doctor of deuinyte Nor doctor of the law Nor of none other saw But a poore maister of arte God wot had lytell parte Of the Quatriuials Nor yet of triuials Nor of philosophy Nor of Philology Nor of good pollycy Nor of astronomy Nor acquaynted worth a 〈◊〉 With honorable Haly Nor with royall Ptholomy Nor with Albumasar Totreate of any star Fyxtor els mobyll His latyne tonge dothe hobbyll He doth but cloute and cobbill In Cullis Faculte Called humanyte Yet proudly he dare pretende How no man can him amende But haue ye nat harde this How an one eyed man is Well syghted when He is amonge blynde men ¶ Than our processe for to stable This man was full vnable To reche to suche degre Had nat our prynce be Royall Henry the eyght Take him in suche conceyght That he set him on heyght In exemplyfyenge Great Alexander the kynge In writynge as we fynde Whiche of his royall mynde And of his noble pleasure Transcendynge out of mesure Thought to do a thynge That perteyneth to a kynde To make vp one of nought Aud made to him be brought A wretched poore man Whiche his lyuenge wan With plantyng of lekes By the dayes and by the wekes And of this poore vassall He made a kynge royall And gaue him a realme to rule That occupyed a showell A mattoke and a spade Before that he was made A kynge as I haue tolde And ruled as he wolde Suche is a kynges power To make with in an hower And worke suche a myracle That shall be a spectacle Of renowme and worldly fame In lykewyse now the same Cardynall is promoted Yet with lewde condicyons cotyd As herafter ben notyd Presumcyon and vayne glory Enuy wrath and lechery Couetys and glotony Slouthfull to do good Now frantick now starke wode Shulde this man of suche mode Rule the swerde of myght How can he do ryght For he wyll as sone smyght His trende as his fo A prouerbe longe a go ¶ Set vp a wretche on hye In a trone triumphantlye Make him a great astate And he wyll play checke mate with ryall maieste Counte him selfe as good as he A prelate potencyall To rule vnder Belly all As ferce and as cruell As the fynd of hell His seruauntes meny all He dothe reuyle and brall Lyke Mahounde in a play No man dare him with say He hath dispyght and scorne At them that be well borne He rebukes them and rayles Ye horsons ye bassayles Ye knaues ye churles sonnys Ye rebads nat worth two pluÌ„mis Ye raynbetyn beggers reiagged Ye recrayed ruffyns all ragged With stowpe thou hauell Rynne thou iauell Thou peuysshe pye pecked Thou losell longe necked Thus dayly they be decked Taunted and checked That they ar so wo They wot not whether to go No man dare come to the speche Of this gentell Iacke breche Of what estate he be Of spirituall dygnyte Nor duke of hye degre Nor Marques erle nor lorde Whiche shrewdly doth accorde Thus he borne so base All noble men shulde out face His countynaunce lyke a kayser My lorde is nat at layser Syr ye must tary a stounde Tyll better layser be founde And syr ye must dauÌ„ce attendauÌ„ce And take pacient sufferaunce For my lordes grace Hath nowe no tyme nor space To speke with you as yet ¶ And thus they shall syt Chuse them syt or flyt Stande walke or ryde And his layser abyde Parchaunce halfe a yere And yet neuer the nere This daungerous dowsy pere Lyke a kynges pere And within this xvi yere He wolde haue ben ryght fayne To haue ben a chapleyne And haue taken ryght gret payne With a poore knyght What soeuer he hyght The chefe of his owne counsell They can nat well â—ell Whan they with hym shulde mell He is so fyers and fell He rayles and he ratis He calleth them doddy patis He grynnes and he gapis As it were Iack napis Suche a madde bedleme For to rewle this reame It is a wonders case That the kynges grace Is toward him so mynded And so farre blynded That he can nat parâ—e yue How he doth hym discâ—â—ue I dought lest by Sorsery Or suche other loselry As wychecraft or charmyng For he is the kynges derlyng And his swete hart rott And is gouerned by this mad â—ote For what is a man the better For the kynges letter For he wyll tere it a sonder Wherat moche I wonder How suche a hoddy poule So boldely dare controule And so malapertly withstande The kynges owne hande And settys nat by it a myte He sayth the kynge doth wryte And writeth he wottith nat what And yet for all that The kynge his clemency Despensyth with his demensy ¶ But what his grace â—oth thiâ—e I haue no pen nor inke That ther with can mell But wâ—le I can tell How Frauncis Petrarke That moche noble clerke Wryteth how Charlemayn Coude nat him selfe refrayne But was rauysht with a rage Of a lyke dotage But how that came aboute Rede ye the story oute And ye shall fynde surely It was by â—ycromansy By carectes and coniuracyon Vnder a certeyne constellacion And a certayne fumygacion Vnder a stone on a golde ryng Wrought to Charlemayn y â— king Whiche constrayned him forcebly For to loue a certayne body Aboue all other inordinatly This is no fable nor no lye At Acon it was brought to paâ— As by myne auctor tried it was But leâ—mi nasters mathematical Tell you the rest for me they shal They haue the full intellygence And dare vse the experyens In there obsolute consciens To practyue suche abolete sciens For I abhore to smatter Of one so deuyllysshe a matter But I wyll make further relacioÌ„ Of this I sagogicall colation How maister Gaguine the crownycler Of the feytis of war That were done in Fraunce Maketh remembraunce How kynge Lewes of late Made vp a great astate Of a poore wretchid man Wherof moche care began IohaÌ„nes Balua was his name Myne nuctor writeth the same Promoted was he To a Cardynalles dygnyte By Lewes the kyng a foresayd With hym so wele apayd That he made hiÌ„ his chauncelar To make all or to mar And to rule as him lyst Tyll he cheked at the fyst And agayne all reason Commyted open trayson And against his lorde souerayn Wherfore he suffred payn Was hedyd drawen quarterd And dyed stynkingly marterd ¶ Lo yet for all that He ware a cardynals hat In hym was small fayth As myne auctor sayth Nat for that I mene Suche a casuelte shulde be sene Or suche chaunce shulde fall Vnto our cardynall All myghty god I trust Hath for hindyscust That of force he must Be faythfull trew and iust To our most royall kynge Chefe rote of his makynge Yet it is a wyly mouse That caÌ„ bylde his dwelliÌ„ge house With in the cattes eare Withouten drede or feare It is a nyce reconynge To put all the gouernynge All the rule of this lande In to one mannys hande One wyse