1 Wrangle. Yet must us work for oure meat; Meat nor drink to our hond." The lord said: "Why flyte1 ye two? About he goes twice or thrice: The proctor said: "Think ye no shame ? The steward said: "Evil speed the sop, But thou with us hadst wrought!" The proctor stood in a study To the lord he drewe near, The proctor began to knock : She said: "When I was maid at home, My life therewith to lead." She gave him in hand a rocke-hynd, "Yes, dame," he said, "so have I hele, As ye have taughte me." He waved up a strick of line; The lord said: "Thou spinnest too great; Thus they sat and wrought fast 2 Reached. Hem = them; but I think it should be "him, 4 A strike; as much as is heckled at one handful. And, as he came by his house side, The third did reel and spin, “ 'Dame," he said, "what is this din? Sir," said she, "workmen three Thereof we have great need." "Fain would I weet what they were!" "What do ye here, my lord and knight? The knight said: "What is best rede? Mercy I ask for my misdeed! My heart is wonder woe!" "So is minè, verament; To see you among this flex and hemp, To see you in such heaviness, The wright bade his wife let hem out.- Anon she sent after the lady bright 1 Slight. Thereto she said nought. She told her what they had meant, Whan she came unto the stair aboun, The lady spake the wife until, And said: "Dame, if it be your will, What do these meyne here? The carpenter's wife her answered sickerly: Willing they were to do me shame : The lady answered her anon: I wist my lord never do right nought The lady laughed and made good game The knight said: "Fellows in fere, By Goddes dear pity. Dame, and ye had been with us, Ye would have wrought, by sweet Jesus, And, when they came up aboun, The lord said: "So God save me, I Grace. Yet had I never such a fytt The knight and this lady bright, This said Adam of Cobsam. By the way as they rode Through a wood in their playing, They hoved still, and bode. Would they no more come in that wonne,2 This forty year and five. Thus the wright's garland was fair of hue, Thereof was he full blithe. I take witness at great and small, Here is written a geste of the wright And all tho that do her husbands right, That fair mot hem befall, And that they may come to heaven bliss, For thy dear moder's love thereof not to miss, Now all tho that this treatise have hard, As true lovers to be As was the wright unto his wife, 2 Dwelling. 3 Rife, abundantly. And she to him during her life: Here endeth the wright's process true, That never did fade the colour. It was made by the avise Of his wive's moder, witty and wise, With true-loves meddled in sight; Unto the which flower, I wis, The love of God and of the commenys 2 ANDREW BORDE. [Born towards 1485, died in 1549. Became a Carthusian Monk at an early age, but was released from his vows, and practised physic. Borde was a great traveller, for his time; a man of wit, sense, and learning, author of various books of a substantial kind: others which show him in the light of a "Merry Andrew" (and it has been said that that term took its origin from him) have been attributed to him with little apparent reason-such as the Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham, Accusations of incontinence were brought against hin both in early and in late life: finally he was confined in the Fleet Prison, probably on a charge of this kind, and soon afterwards died,--some say that he poisoned himself. Our extracts are taken from The First Book of the Introduction of Knowledge, wherein Borde puts into the mouths of the natives of various countries some characteristic particulars regarding themselves.] AN IRISHMAN AND A LOMBARD. I AM an Irishman, in Ireland I was born; I love to wear a saffron shirt, although it be to-torn. I cannot leave it, it creaseth more and more; I can make good mantles, and good Irish fryce; 3 And divers times I wake when other men do wink. 1 I.e., mingled with true-loves. The question remains whether "true-loves" are to be understood as figures like true-lovers'-knots (which I should rather suppose), or as the herb true-love, a sort of quatrefoil otherwise termed Herb Paris. 2 Commons. The reader will recognize in this whole passage the Yorkist sympathies of its writer. 3 Frieze. |