prate And remembre among how parrot and ye Shal lepe from this life as merye as we be Pompe pryde honour ryches and worldly luste Parrot saith plainly shall tourne all to dust Thus parrot doth pray you With heart most tender To reken with this recule nowe And it to remember Psitacus ecce cauo nec sunt mea carmina phebo Dignascio Tamen est Plena camena dec Secundum Skeltonida famigeratum In picreorum Cathalago numeratum Gala thea Itaque Consolanimi inuicem In uerbis istis Candidi lectores callide callete Vestrum seuete psitacum Galethea Now kus me parrot kus me kus kus kus Gods blessing light on thy swete litle mus Vita anima zoelzepsiche Aquinates Amen Concubunt grece Non est hic sermo pudicus Actica dictamina Ergo Suus plumbilamina Vel spuria Vitulamino Auertat hoc Vxania Amen amen and set to a. d And then it is amend Our new found a. b. c. Cum ccrteris Paribus Of the death of the noble Prince kynge Edward the forth per Skeltonidē Laureatum MIseremini mei ye that be my frendes This worlde hath formed me down to fall How may I endure when y t euery thynge endes What creature is borne to be eternall Now there is no more but pray for me all Thus say I Edward that late was your kyng And. xxiii yeres ruled this imperiall Some vnto pleasure and some to no likyng Mercy I aske of my misdoyng What auaileth it frendes to be my fo Sith I can not resist nor amend your cōplainīg Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio I slepe now in molde as it is naturall As earth vnto earth hath his reuerture What ordeyned god to be terrestriall Without recours to the earth of nature Who to liue euer may be sure What is it to trust on mutabilite Sith that in this world nothing may indure For now am I gone that late was in prosperite To presume ther vppon it is but a vanitie Not certaine but as a chery fayre ful of wo Raygned not I of late in great felicite Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio Where was in my lyfe such one as I While lady fortune with me had continuaunce Graunted not she me to haue victory In England to raine and to contribute Fraūce She toke me by the hand and led me a daunce And with her sugred lips on me she smyled But what for her dissembled countenaunce I could not beware til I was begiled Now from this world she hath me excild When I was lothest hens for to go And I am in age but as who saith a child Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio I had ynough I held me not contente Without remembraunce that I should dye And more ouer to incroche redy was I bente I knew not how long I should it occupy I made the tower stronge I wyst not why I knew not to whom I purchased Tetersall I amended Douer on the mountayne hye And London I prouoked to fortify the wal I made Notingam a place royal Wyndsor Eltam and many other mo Yet at the last I went from them al Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio Where is now my conquest and victory Where is my riches and my royal araye Where be my coursers and my horses hye Where is my myrth my solas and play As vanite to nought al is wandred away O lady Besse longe for me may ye cal For I am de parted til domes day But loue ye that lord that is soueraygne of all Where be my castels and buildinges royall But Winsore alone nowe I haue no mo And of Eton the prayers perpetuall Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio Why shoulde a man be proud or presume hye Sainct Bernard therof nobly doth treate Sythe a man is nothing but a sacke of stercorri And shall returne vnto wormes meate Whye what came of Alexander the great Or elsse of stronge Sampson who can tell Wher no wormes ordened theyr flesh to freat And of Salomon that was of wit the well Absolon profered his heare for to sel Yet for al his beutie wormes eat him also And I but late in honour did excell Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio I haue played my pageyond now am I paste Ye wot wel all I was of no great yeld This al thing concluded shalbe at the last When death approcheth then lost is the felde Then sithen this worlde me no longer vp helde Nor nought wold conserue me here in my place In manus tuas domine my spirite vp I yealde Humbly beseching the God of his grace O ye curtesse commens your hartes vnbrace Boningly now to pray for me also For right wel you know your kyng I was Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio ¶ FINIS Skelton Laureate against the Scottes Against the proud Scottes clatteryng That neuer wyll leaue theyr tratlyng Wan they the felde and lost their kynge They may wel say fye on that winning LO these fond sottes And tratling scottes How they are blind In their owne minde And will not know Their ouerthrow At Branxston more They are so srowre So frantike mad They say they had And wan the felde With speare and shield That is as trew As blacke is blew And grene is gray What euer they say Iemmy is dead And closed in leade That was theyr own king Fy on that winning At Flodden hilles Oure bowes our bylles Slewe all the floure Of theyr honoure Are not these scottes Foles and settes Suche boste to make To prate and crake To face to brace All voyde of grace So proud of hart So ouerth wart So out of frame So voyd of shame As it is enrold Wrytten and told Within this quaire Who list to repair And ther in reed Shal finde in deed A mad rekening Considering all thing That the scottes may sin Fye on the winning When the Scotte lyued IOly Iemmy ye scornefull Scot Is it come vnto your lot A solempne sumner for to be It greeth nought for your degre Our kyng of England for to fight Your soueraine lord our prince of might Ye for to send such a Citacion It shameth al your noughty nacion In comparison but kynge roppyng Unto our prince annointed kyng Ye play Hop Lobbyn of Lowdean Ye shew ryght wel what good ye can Ye may be Lord of Locrian Christ sence you with a frying pan Of Edingborrow and saincte Ionis towne A dieu syr sommer cast of your crowne When the Scot was slayne COntinually I shall remember The mery moneth of September With the ▪ xi day of the same For than began our myrthe and game So that now I haue deuised And in my minde I haue comprised Of the proude Scot kyng Iemmy To wryte some lyttell tragedy For no manner consideration Of any sorowful lamentation But for the special consolacion Of al our royal englysh nacion Melnomone O muse tragediall Unto your grace for grace now I call To guyde my pen and my
to lerne you to dye whan ye will Of vertue also the souerayne enterlude The boke of the rostar prince Arthuris creacion the false faith y t now goth which daily is renude Item his dialogues of ymaginacion Item Antomedon of loues meditacion Item newe grammer in englishe compilled IteÌ„ Bouge of courte where drede was begylled His comedy Achademios called by name Of Tullis familiars the translacion IteÌ„ good aduisement that braineles doth blame The recule against Gaguine of the freÌ„ch nacion Item the Popingay that hath in commendacioÌ„ Ladies and gentilwomen suche as deserued And suche as be countrefettes they be reserued And of soueraintie a noble pamphelet And of magnificence a notable mater Howe countrefet countenaunce of the new get With crafty conueyaunce doth smater flater And cloked collusion is brought in to clater with courtly abusioÌ„ who priÌ„teth it wel in minde Moch doublenes of y e world therin he may finde Of manerly maistres Margery mylke and ale To her he wrote many maters of myrth Yet thoughe I saye it therby lieth a tale For Margery wynsed brake her hynder gyrth Lorde howe she made moche of her gentill byrth w c giÌ„gerly go gingerly her taile was made of hay Go she neuer so gingerly her honestie is gone awaye Harde to make ought of that is naked nought This fustian maistres and this giggisshe gase Wonder is to write what wreÌ„ches she wrought To face out her foly with a mydsomer mase w t pitche she patched her pitcher should nat crase It may well ryme but shrewdly it doth accorde To pyke out honestie of suche a potshorde Patet per uersus Hinc puer hinc natus uir coniugis hinc spollatus Iure thori est fetus deli de sanguine cretus Hinc magis extollo quod erit puer alter Apollo Si queris qualis meretrix castissima talis Et relis ralis reliqualis A good herynge of these olde talis Fynde no mo such from wanflete to walis Et reliquà ome lia de diuersis tactatibus OF my ladis grace at the contemplacion Out of frenche into englisshe prose Of mannes lyfe the peregrinacion He dyd translate interprete and disclose The treatise of triumphes of the redde rose Wherin many stories are brefely contayned That vnremembred longe tyme remayned The duke of Yorkes creauÌ„cer whaÌ„ SkeltoÌ„ was Nowe Henry the. viij kynge of Englande A treatise he deuysed and brought it to pas Galled Speculum principis to beare in his hande Therin to rede and to vnderstande All the demenour of princely astate To be our kynge of god preordinate Also the tunnyng of Eiinor Rummyng With Colin clout Iohn yue with Ioforth Iacke To make suche trifels it asketh some counnyng In honest myrth parde requireth no lacke The white appereth the better for the blacke And after conueyaunce as the worlde gose It is no foly to vse the walshemannes hose The vmbles of venison the botels of wyne To faire maistres Anne that shuld haue be sent He wrote therof many a praty lyne Where it became and whither it went And howe that it was wantonly spent The balade also of the mustarde tarte Suche problemes to paint it longeth to his arte Of one Adam all a knaue late dead and gone Dormiat in pace like a dormous He wrote an epitaph for his graue stone With wordes deuout and sentence Egerdous For he was euer agaynst goddes house All his delite was to braule and to barke Agayne holy churche the prest and the clarke Of Philip sparowe the lamentable fate The dolefull desteny and the carefull chaunce Deuised by Skelton after the funerall rate Yet some there be there with that take greuauÌ„ce And grugge therat with frowning couÌ„tenauÌ„ce But what of that harde it is to please all men Who lyst amende it let hym set to his penne For the gyse now adayes Of some iangelynge da Iayes Is to discommende That they can nat amende Thoughe they wolde spende All the wittes they haue What ayle them to depraue Philippe sparowes graue His dirige her commendacion Can be no derogacion But myrthe and consolacion Made by protestacion No man to myscontent With Philippis enterement Alas that goodly mayde Why should she be afrayde Why shoulde she take shame That her goodly name Honorably reported Should be set and sorted To be matriculate with ladies of astate I coniure the Philip sparowe By Hercules that hell dyd harowe And with a venemous arowe Slewe of the Epidaures One of the Centaures Or Onocentaurus Or Hippocentaurus By whose myght and mayne An hart was slayne with hornes twayne Of glitteryng golde And the apples of golde Of Hesperides with holde And with a dragon kepte That neuer more slepte By marciall strength He wan at length And slewe Gerione With thre bodyes in one With mighty corage Adaunted the rage Of a lyon sauage Of Diomedis stabyll He brought out a rabill Of coursers and rounses With leapes and bounses And with mighty luggynge Wrastelynge and tuggynge He plucked the bull By the horned scul And offred to Cornucopia And so forthe per cetera Also by Hecates bowre In Plutos gastly towre By the vgly Eumenides That neuer haue rest nor ease By the venemous serpent That in hell is neuer brent In Lerua the grekes fen That was engendred then By Chemeras flames And all the deedly names Of infernall posty Where soules frye and rosty By the stygial flode And the stremes wode Of Cocytus botomlesse well By the feryman of hell Caron with his berde hore That roweth with a rude ore And with his frounsed fore toppe Gydeth his bote with a proppe I coniure Philippe and call In the name of kynge Saul Primo regum expres He bad the Phitones To wytche crafte her to dres And by her abusions And damnable illusions Of merueylous conclusions And by her supersticions And wonderfull condicions She raysed vp in that stede Samuel that was dede But wheder it were so He were idem innumero The selfe same Samuel Howe be it to Saul he dyd tell The Philistinis should hym askrye And the nexte daye he should dye I wyll myselfe discharge To lettred men at large But Philip I coniure the Nowe by these names thre Diana in the woddes grene Luna that so bryght doth shene Proserpina in hell That thou shortly tell And shewe nowe vnto me What the cause may be Of this perplexite Inferias Philippe tuas Scroupe pulchra Ioanna Instanter peciit cur nostri carmints illam Nunc pudet est sero minor est infamia Vero Than suche as haue disdayned And of this worke complayned I praye god they by payned No worse than is contayned In verses two or thre That folowe as ye maye se â–ª Luride cur liuor Volucris pia funera damnas Talia te rapiant â—apiunt quae fata Volucrem Est tamen inuidia mors tibi continua The grouÌ„ting y e groining of y e groning swyne Also the Mournyng of the mapely rote Howe the grene couerlet
your traytours throtes Oscottes pariured Unhaply vred Ye may be assured Your falshod discured It is shal be Frō the scottish se Unto Gabione For ye be false echone False and false agayne Neuer true nor playne But flery flatter and fayne And euer to remayne In wretched beggary And maungy misery In lousy lothsumnesse And scabbed scorffynesse And in abhominacion Of all maner of nacion Nacion moost in hate Proude and poore of state Twyt scot go kepe thy den Mell nat with Englyshe men Thou dyd nothyng but barke At the castell of warke Twyt scot yet agayne ones We shall breke thy bones And hang you vpon polles And byrne you all to colles With twyt scot twyt scot twyt Walke scot go begge a byt Of brede at ylke mannes hecke The fynde scot breke thy necke Twyt scot agayne I saye Twyt scot of Galaway Twyt scot shake thy dogge hay Twyt scot thou ran away We set nat a flye By your duke of Albany We set nat a prane By suche a dronken drane We set nat a myght By suche a cowarde knyght Suche a proude palyarde Suche a skyrgaliarde Suche a starke cowarde Suche a proude pultrowne Suche a foule Coystrowne Suche a doutty dagswayne Sende him to Faunce agayne To bring with hym more brayne From kynge Fraunces of Frauns God sende them bothe myschauns Ye scottes all the rable Ye shall neuer be hable With vs for to compare What though ye stāpe and stare God sende you sorow and care With vs whan euer ye mell Yet we bear away the bell Whan ye cankerd knaues Must crepe in to your caues Your heedes for to hyde For ye dare nat abyde Sir duke of Albany Right inconuenyently Ye rage and ye raue And your worshyp depraue Nat lyke duke Hamylcar With the Romayns y t made war Nor lyke his sonne Hanyball Nor lyke duke Hasdruball Of Cartage in Aphrike Yet somwhat ye be lyke In some of their condicions And their false sedycions And their dealyng double And their weywarde trouble But yet they were bolde And manly manyfolde Their enemyes to assayle In playn felde and battayle But ye and your hoost Full of bragge and boost And full of waste wynde Howe ye wyll beres bynde And the deuill downe dynge Yet ye dare do nothynge But lepe away lyke frogges And hyde you vnder logges Lyke pygges and lyke hogges And lyke maungy dogges What an army were ye Or what actyuyte Is in you beggers braules Full of scabbes and scaules Of vermyne and of lyce and of all maner vyce Syr duke nay syr ducke Syr drake of the lake sir ducke Of the donghyll for smalllucke Ye haue in feates of warre Ye make nought but ye marre Ye are a fals entrusar And a fals abusar And an vntrewe knyght Thou hast to lytell myght Agaynst Englande to fyght Thou art a graceles wyght To put thyselfe to flyght A vengeaunce and dispight On the must nedes lyght That durst nat byde the sight Of my lorde amrell Of chiualry the well Of knighthode the floure In euery marciall shoure The noble erle of Surrey That put the in suche fray Thou durst no felde derayne Nor no batayle mayntayne Against our stonge captaine But thou ran home agayne For feare thou shoulde be slayne Lyke a scottyshe keteryng That durst abyde no reknyng Thy hert wolde nat serue the The fynde of hell mot sterue the. No man hath harde Of suche a cowarde And such a mad ymage Caried in a cage As it were a cotage Or of suchea mawment Caryed in a tent In a tent nay nay But in a mountayne gay Lyke a great hill For awyndmil Therin to couche styll That no man hym kyll As it were a gote In ashepe cote About hym a parke Of a madde warke Men call it a toyle Therin lyke a royle Sir Dunkanye dared And thus ye prepared Youre carkas to kepe Lyke a sely shepe ◠shepe of Cottyswolde From rayne and from colde And from raynning of rappes And suche after clappes Thus in your cowardly castell Ye decte you to dwell Suche a captayne of fors It made no great fors If that ye had tane Your last deedly bane With a gon stone To make you to grone But hyde the sir Topias Nowe into the castell of Bas And lurke there lyke an as With some scotyshe as With dugges dugges dugges I shrewe thy scottishe lugges Thy munpynnys and thy crag For thou can not but brag Lyke a scottyshe hag A due nowe sir wrig wrag A due sir dalyrag Thy mellyng is but mockyng Thou mayst giue vp thy cocking Gyue it vp And cry creke Lyke an huddy peke Wherto shuld I more speke Of suche a farly freke Of suche an horne keke Of suche an bolde captayne That dare nat turne agayne Nor durst nat crak aworde Nor durst nat drawe his swerde Agaynst the lyon white But ran away quyte He ran away by nyght In the owle flyght Lyke a cowarde knyght A due cowarde a due Fals knight and mooste vntrue I render the fals rebelle To the flingande fende of helle Harke yet sir duke aworde In ernest or in borde What haue ye villayn forged And virulently dysgorged As though ye wolde parbrake Your auauns to make With wordes enbosed Ungracioufly engrosed Howe ye wyll vndertake Our royall kyng to make His owne realme to forsake Suche lewde langage ye spake Sir Dūkan in the deuill waye Be well ware what ye say Ye saye that he and ye Whyche he and ye let se Ye meane Fraūces french kyng Shulde bring about that thing I say thou lewde lurdayne That neyther of you twayne So hardy nor so bolde His countenaunce to beholde If our moost royall Harry Lyst with you to varry Full soone ye should miscary For ye durst nat tarry With hym to stryue a stownde If he on you but frounde Nat for a thousande pouned Ye durst byde on the grounde Ye wolde ryn away rounde And cowardly fourne your backes For all your comly crackes And for feare par case To loke hym in the face Ye wolde defoyle the place And ryn your way apace Thoughe I trym you thys frace With englyshe somwhat base Yet saua voster grace Therby I shall purchace No displesaunt rewarde If ye wele can regarde Your cankarde cowardnesse And your shamfull doublenesse ¶ Are ye nat frantyke madde And wretchedly bestadde To rayle agaynst his grace That shall bring you full bace And set you in suche case That bytwene you twayne There shalbe drawen a trayne That shalbe to your payne To flye ye shalbe fayne And neuer tourne agayne What wold Fraūces our friar Be suche a false lyar So madde a cordylar So madde a murmurar Ye muse somwhat to far All out of ioynt ye iar God let you neuer thriue Wene ye daucockes to driue Our kyng out of his reme Ge heme ranke scot ge heme With fonde Fraunces french kyng Our mayster shall you brynge I trust to lowe estate And mate you with chek mate Your braynes are ydell It
sir Tristram Ye muste weare buckram Or Canuas of Cane For silkes are wane Our royals that shone Our nobles are gone Amonge the Burgonions And spanyardes Onyons And the Flanderkyns Gyl sweates and Cate spinnes They are happy that wynnes But Englande may well say Fye on this winnyng alway Now nothing but pay pay With laughe and lay downe Borough Citie and towne Good Springe of Lanam Must counte what became Of his clothe makyng He is at such takyng Though his purse wax dul He must tax for his wul By nature of a new writ My Lordes grace nameth it A quia non satisfacit In the spight of his teeth He must pay agayne A thousand or twayn Of his gold in store And yet he payde before An hunderd pound and more Which pincheth hym sore My Lordes grace wil bryng Downe thys hye sprynge And brynge it so lowe It shal not euer flow Suche a prelate I trow Were worthy to row Thorow the streytes Marocke To the gybbet of Baldock He wold dry vp the streames Of. ix Kynges realme Al riuers and wels Al waters that swels For with vs he so mels That within England dwels I would he were somwhere els For els by and by He will drynke vs so dry And sucke vs so nye That men shall scantly Haue penny or halpennye God saue hys noble grace And graunt him a place Endlesse to dwel With the deuill of hel For and he were there We nead neuer feare Of the feendes blacke For I vnder take He wold so brag and crake That he wold than make The deuils to quake To shudder and to shake Lyke a fier drake And with a cole rake Bruse them on a brake And binde them to a stake And set hel on fyre At his owne desire He is such a grym syre And such a potestolate And suche a potestate That he wold breke the braynes Of Lucifer in his chaines And rule them eche one In Lucifers trone I would he were gone For amonge vs is none That ruleth but he alone With oute all good reason And all oute of season For Folam Peason With him be not geson They grow very ranke Upon euery banke Of his herbers greene With my lady bright and sheene On their game it is seen They play not al cleen And it be as I weene But as touching discretion With sober direction He kepeth them in subiection They can haue no protection To rule nor to guide But all must be tryde And abide the correction Of him wil ful affection For as for wylte The deuill spéed whitte But brainsicke and braynlesse Witles and reachlesse Careles and shamelesse Thriftles and gracelesse To gether are bended And so condiscended That the commune welth Shal neuer haue good helth But tatterd and tugged Ragged and rugged Shauen and shorne And all threde bare worne Such gredines Such nedines Miserablenes With wretchednes Hath brought in distres And much heauines And great dolour England the Flour Of relucent honour In old commemoracion Most royal English nacion Now all is out of facion Almost in desolation I speake by protestacion God of his miseracion Send better reformacion Lo for to do shamfully He iudgeth it no foly But to write of his shame He saythe we are to blame What a frensi is this No shame to do amys And yet he is a shamed To be shamefully named And oft prechours be blamed Bycause they haue proclamed His madnes by writing His simplenes resiting Remording and biting With chiding and with fiting Shewyng him goddes lawes He calleth the preachers dawes And of holy scriptures sawes He counteth them for gigawes And putteth them to scilence And with wordes of violence Like Pharao void of grace Did Moyses sore manase And Aron sore he thret The word of God to let This maumet in likewise Against the church doth rise The preachoure he doth dispise With crakyng in such wise So bragging all with bost That no preachour almost Dare speake for hys lyfe Of my lordes grace nor his wyfe For he hath suche a bul He may take whome he wul And as many as him likes May eat pigges in lent for pykes After the sectes of heretikes For in lent he wil eate Al maner of fleshe meate That he can any where geat With other abusions great Wherof to trete It wold make the deuil to swet For all priuileged places He brekes and defaces All places of religion He hath them in derision And maketh such prouision To driue them at diuision And finally inconclusion To bring them to confusion Sainct Albons to recorde Wherof this vngracious Lorde Hathe made himself abbot Against their willes god wot Al this he doth deale Under strength of the great seall And by his legacy Which madly he doth applye Unto an extrauagancye Pyked out all good law With reasons that ben raw Yet whan he toke first his hat He said he knew what was what Al iustice he pretended Al thinges should be amended Al wronges he wold redresse Al iniuries he wold repres Al periuries he wold oppresse And yet this graceles elfe He is periured himselfe As plainlye it dothe appere Who list to enquere In the regestry Of my Lord of Cantorbury To whowe he was professed In thre pointes expressed The first to do him reuerence The second to owe him obedience The third with whole affection To be vnder his subiection But now he maketh obiection Under the protection Of the kinges great seale That he setteth neuer a deale By his former othe Whether god be pleased or wroth He maketh so proud presence That in his equipolens He iudgeth him equiualent With God omnipotent But yet beware the rod And the stroke of God The Apostel Peter Had a pore miter And a pore cope Whan he was create Pope Fyrst in Antioche He did neuer approche Of Rome to the see Wyth suche dignitie Sainct dunstan what was he Nothing he saieth lyke to me There is a diuersitie Betwene him and me We passe hym in degre As legatus a latere Ecce sacerdos magnus That wyll hed vs and hange vs And straightly strangle vs That he maye fang vs Decre and decretall Constitucion prouinciall Nor no lawe canonicall Shal let the preest pontificall To sit in cansa sanguinis Now god amende that is amis For I suppose that he is Of Ieremy the whisking rod The flayle the scourge Of almighty God This Naman Sirus So fel and so irous So ful of me lancoly With a flap before his eye Men wene that he is pocky Or els his surgions they lye For as far as they can spy By the craft of surgery It is manus domini And yet this proud Antiochus He is so ambicious So elate and so vicious And so cruel harted That he will not be conuerted For he setteth God a parte He is now so ouerthwart And so payned with panges That al his trust hanges In Balthasor which healed Domingos nose that was wheled That Lumberdes nose mean I That standeth yet a wry
Caudate Set in better Thy pentameter This dundas This Scottishe as He rymes and railes That EnglishmeÌ„ haue failes Skeltonus laureatus Anglicus natus Prouocat musas Contra Dundas Norpacissimum Scotum Vndiquae notum Rusticè fotum Vapidè potum Skelton Laureat After this rate Defendeth with his pen All Englysh men Agayn dundas That Scottishe asse Shake thy tayle Scot lyke a cur For thou beggest at euery mannes dur Diffamas patriam qua non est melior vsqm Cum cauda plaudis dum possis ad hostia pultes Mendicans mendicus eris mendax quae bilinguis Scabidus horribilis queÌ„ vermes sex quae pedales Corrodunt misere miseres genus est maledictum Tut Scot I sey Go shake thy dog hey Dundas of Galaway With thy versyfyeng rayles How they haue tayles By Iesu Christ fals scot y u lyest But behynd in our hose We bere there a rose For thy Scottyshe nose A spectacle case To couer thy face With tray deux ase A tolman to blot A rough foted Scot Dundas sir knaue Why doste thow depraue This Royall Reame Whose radiant beame And relucent light Thou hast in despite Thou donghyll knyght But thou lakest might Dundas dronken and drowsy Skabed scuruy and lowsy Of vnhappy generacion And most vngracious nacion Dundas that dronke asse That ratis and rankis That prates and prankes On huntley bankes Take this our thankes Dunde bar Walke Scot Walke sot Rayle not to far Admonitio Skeltonis vt omnes Arbores viridi Laureo concedant Fraxinus in siluis altis in montibus Ornus Populus in fluuijs Abies patulissima Fagus Lenta salix platanus pinguis Ficulnea Ficus Gladifera quercus Pirus Esculus Ardua pinus Basamus exudans Oleaster Oliua Mineruae Iuniperus Buxus Lentiscus cuspide lenta Botrigera domino vitis gratissima baccho Ilex sterilis Labrusta parosa colonis Mollibus exudans fragrantia thura sabeis Thus redolens Arabis panter notissima mirrha Et vos O Corili fragiles humilesque Mirice Et vos O Cedri redolentes vos quoque Mirti Arboris omne genu viridi concedite Lauro Prenes en gre The Laurelle Diligo rusticum cum portant bis duo quointum Et cantant delos est mihi dulce melos 1. Canticum dolorosum M. D. XVIII In Bedell quondam Belial incarnaÌ„tum deuotum Epitaphium Ismal eccae Bedel non mel sed fel sibi des el. Perfidus acchitephel Luridus atquae lorell Nunc olet iste Iebal Nabal S. Nabal ecce Ribaldus Omnibus exosus atquae perosus erat In plateaquae cadens Animam spirauit oleto Presbiteros Odiens sic sine mente ruit Discite vos omnes quid sit violare sacratos Presbiteros quia sic corruit iste canis Cocitus cui sic petus per Tartara totus Sit peto promotus Cerberus hiuncquae voret At mage sancta tamen mea musa precabiturum atros Hos limures ê™ eat sic bedel ad superes Non eat immo ruat non scandat sed mage tendat Inquae caput preceps mox acheronto petat Bedel QuaÌ„ta malignatus est Inimicus in saÌ„ctaÌ„ psa 73. Mortus est asinus Qui vixit multum Hic iacet barbarus The deuill kys his culum Amen Hanc volo transcribas transcriptam mox quae remittas Pagellam quia sunt qui mea scripta sciunt Redde Igitur quia sunt qui mala cuÌ„cta frenuitur Redde Igitur quia sunt qui bona cuÌ„cta prenuitur Nec tamen expaueo de fatuo labio Nec multum paueo de scolido Rabulo ⧠Poeta Skelton Laureatus Libellum suum metrice Aloquitur Ad dominum properato meum mea pagina percy qui Northumbrorum iura paterna gerit Ad nutum celebris tu prona repone Leonis quequae suo patri tristia iusta Ast vbi perlegit dubiam sub meÌ„te volutet fortunaÌ„ cuncta quae male fida rotat qui leo sit felix nestoris occupet Annos ad libitum cuius ipse paratus ero ⧠Skelton Laureat vpon the doulours dethe and muche lamentable chauÌ„ce of the most honorable erle of Northumberlande I Wayle I wepe I sobbe I sigh fulsore The dedely fate the dolefulle desteny Of hym that is gone alas without restore Of the bloud royall descending nobelly Whose lordshyp doutles was slayne lamentably Thorow treson again him compassed wrought Trew to his prince in word in dede thought Of heuenly poems O. Clyo calde by name In the colege of musis goddes hystoriall Adres the to me whiche am both halt I lame In elect vteraunce to make memoryall To the for souccour to the for helpe I call Mine homely rudnes dryghnes to expell With the freshe waters of Elyconys well Of noble Actes Aunciently enrolde Of famous pryncis and lordes of astate By thy report ar wont to be extold Regestringe trewly euery formare date Of thy bountie after the vsuall rate Kyndell in me suche plenty of thy nobles These sorowfulle dites that I may shew expres In sesons past who hath herde or sene Of formar writyng by any presidente That vilane hastarddis in their furious tene Fulfylled with malice of froward entente Confetered togeder of cominion concente Falsly to slee theyr moste singuler good lord It may be regestrede of shamefull recorde So noble a man so valiaunt lord knyght Fulfilled with honor as all the wold doth ken At his coÌ„maundemeÌ„t which had both day nyght Knyghtes squyers at euery season when He calde vpon them as meniall houshold men Were not these coÌ„mons vncurteis karlis of kind To slo their owne lord god was not i their mynd And were not they to blame I say also That were a boute him his one seruants of trust To suffre him slayn of his mortall fo Fled away from hym let hym ly in the dust They bode not till the rekenyng were discust What shuld I flatter what shuld I glose or paint Fy fy for shame their hartes were to faint In EnglaÌ„d fraunce which gretly was redouted Of whoÌ„ both Flaunders ScotlaÌ„d stode in drede To whom great estates obeyed lowted Amayny of rude villayns made hym for to blede Unkyndly they flew him that holp theÌ„ oft at nede He was their bulwark their paues their wall Yet shafully they flew hym y e shame mot theÌ„ befal I say ye comoners why wer ye so stark mad What frantyk frensy fyll in your brayne Where was your wit reson ye should haue had What wilful foly made yow to ryse a gayne Your naturall lord alas I can not fayne Ye armyd you with will left your wit behynd Well may you be called comones most vnkynd He was your chefteyne your shelde your chef defence Redy to assyst you in euery time of nede Your worshyp depended of his excellence Alas ye mad men to far ye did excede Your hap was vnhappy to ill was your spede What moued you againe him to war or to fyght What aylde you to sle
pen to enbibe Illumine me your Poet and your scribe That with mixture of Aloes and bitter gall I may compound confectures for Accordiall To angre the Scottes Irish kiteringes withal That late were discomfect with battaile marcial Thalia my muse for you also cal I To touche them with tauntes of your armonye A medley to make of mirth with sadnes The hartes of England to comfort with gladnes And now to begyn I wyll me a dres To you rehersyng the somme of my proces KYnge Iamy Iemmy Iocky my ioye Summond our king why did ye so To you nothing it did accord To Summon our king your soueraigne Lorde A kyng a Summer it was great wonder Knowye not suger and salt a sonder Your Summer to saucye to malapert Your harrold in armes not yet halfe expert Ye thought ye did yet valiauntlye Not worth thre skippes of a Pye Syr skyr galyard ye were so skit Your wil than ran before your wyt Your lege ye layd and your aly Your franticke fable not worth a fly Frenche kynge or one or other Regarded you should your lord your brother Trowed ye sir Iemy his nobel grace From you sir scot would tourne his face With gup syr scot of Galawey Now is your pryde fall to decay Male vrid was your fals entent For to offende your president Your soueraigne Lord most reuerente Your Lord your brother and your regent In him is figured Melchisedecke And ye were disloyall Amalecke He is oure noble Scipione Annoynted kynge and ye were noue Thoughe ye vntrulye your father haue slayne His tytle is true in Fraunce to raygne And ye proude Scot Dunde Dunâ—ar Pardy ye were his homager And suter to his Parliament For your vntruthe nowe are ye shent Ye bare your self somwhat to bold Therfore ye lost your copy hold Ye were bonde tenent to his estate Lost is your game ye are checke mate Unto the castell of Norram I vnderstande to sone ye came At Branxston more and Flodden hilles Our Englysh bowes our Englysh bylles Against you gaue so sharpe a shower That of Scotland ye lost the flower The white Lyon there rampaunte of moode He raged and rente out your hart bloude He the White and you the Red The white there slewe the red starke ded Thus for your guerdon quyt are ye Thanked be God in trinite And swete sainct George our ladyes knyghte Your eye is oute a dewe good nyghte Ye were starke mad to make a fray His grace beyng out of the way But by the power and might of God For your tayle ye made a rod Ye wanted wit sir at a worde Ye lost your spurs ye lost your sword Ye mighte haue busked you to huntly bankes Your pryde was peuysh to play suche prankes Your pouerte could not attayne With our kyng royal war to maintaine Of the kyng of Nauerne ye myght take heed Ungraciously howe he dothe speede An double dealynge so he dyd dreame That he is kynge wythoute a Reame And for exaumple he woulde none take Experiens hath brought you in such a brake Your wealthe your ioy your sport your play Your braggyng bost your royal aray Your beard so brym as bore at baye Your seuen systers that Gun so gay All haue ye lost and caste awaye Thus fortune hath turned you I dare wel saye Now from a kyng to a clot of clay Oute of Robes ye were shaked And wretchedly ye lay starke all naked For lacke of grace harde was your hap The Popes cures gaue you that clap Of the out yles the rough foted Scottes We haue wel eased them of the bottes The rude raÌ„cke Scottes lyke droncken dranes At Englysh bowes haue fetched theyr banes It is not sitting in tower and towne A Summer to were a kynges crowne Fortune on you therfore dyd frowne Ye were to hye ye are cast downe Syr sumner now where is your crowne Cast of your crowne cast vp your crowne Sir Summer now ye haue lost your crowne Quod Skelton Laureate Oratoure to the kynges most royal estate SCotica redicta in formam prouincie Regis parebit nutibus anglie Alioquin per desertum sin super Cherubim Cherubin seraphim seraphin que ergo c. Unto diuers people that remord this ryming againste the Scot Iemmy I Am now constrayned With wordes nothynge fayned This inuectiue to make For som people sake That lyst for to iangell And way wardly to wrangell Againste this my makynge Their males thereat shakynge At it reprehending And venemously stingyng Rebukynge and remordyng And nothynge accordynge Cause they haue none other But for that he was hys brother Brother vnnaturall Unto our kyng royall Against whome he dyd fighte Faslye agaynst all ryghte Lyke that vtrue rebell Falsse Cayne agaynst Abell But who so there at pyketh mood The tokens are not good To be true Englysh blood For if they vnderstood His traitourly dispight He was a recrayed knighte A subtill sysmatike Righte neare an heritike Of grace out of the state And died excommunicate And for he was a kynge The more shameful rekenynge Of hym shoulde men reporte In earnest and in sporte He scantlye loueth oure kynge That grudgeth at this thinge That caste suche ouerth wartes Percase haue hollowe hartes Si veritateÌ„ dico quare non creditis michi Chorus de Dys contra Scottes cum omni processionali festiuitate solempne sauit hoc Epitoma xxii die Septembris c. SAlue festa dies toto resonabilis euo Qua scottus iacobus obiuius en se cadit Barbara scottorum gens perfda plena maloruns Vincitur ad Norran uertitut inque fugam Vasta paulus sed campestris borie memoratur Branxion more scottins terra perosa fuit Scottica castra fremunt Floddun sub moÌ„tibus altis Que Valide inuadens dissipat angla manus Millia scottorum trusit gens anglica passim Luxuriat tepido sanguine pi gâ—us humus Pas animas miseri miseras misere sub umbras Pars ruit in foueas pars subiit latebras Iam quid ag't Iachobus damnoruÌ„ gremine cretus Persidus Vt nemro'th lapsus ad iam ruit Dic modo scottorum dudum male fane malorum Rector nunc Regeris mortuus exce iaces Sic Leo te Rapidus Leo candidus inclitus ursit quo Leo in Rubins ultimâ— fâ—ta luis Anglia doc choreas Resonent tua tempana psallas Da laudes domino Da pia uot a deo Hec Laureatus Skeltonis Regine orator Chorus de dis c. supar triumph ali victoiÌ„a centra gallos c. cantauit solemniter hoc Elogium in profesto diui Iohannis ad de colationem SAlue festa dies toto memorabilis euc Qua rex Henricus gallico bella premit Henricus Rutilans Octauus noster in armis Tir winne gentis menit strauit humi Sceptriger anglorum bello ualiaissimus hector Francorum gentis colla superba terit Dux armis nuper celebris modo dux mermis De longuile modo dic quo tuo pomparuit De cleremount clarus dudum