The Poetical Works of John Skelton (Vol. 1&2). John Skelton
reade hys beaderolles,
And all such thinges wyll vse
As honest men refuse:
But take hym for a cruse,
And ye wyll tell me newes;
For if he ons begyn,
He leaueth nought therin;
He careth not a pyn
How much ther be wythin,
So he the pot may wyn,
He wyll it make full thyn;
And wher the drinke doth please
There wyll he take his ease,
And drinke therof his fyll,
Tyll ruddy be his byll;
And fyll both cup and can,
Who is so glad a man
As is our curate than?
I wolde ye knewe it, a curate
Not far without Newgate;
Of a parysh large
The man hath mikle charge,
And none within this border
That kepeth such order,
Nor one a this syde Nauerne
Louyth better the ale tauerne:
But if the drinke be small,
He may not well withall;
Tush, cast it on the wall!
It fretteth out his gall;
Then seke an other house,
This is not worth a louse,
As dronken as a mouse,
Monsyre gybet a vous!
And ther wyll byb and bouse,
Tyll heuy be his brouse.
…
Thus may ye beholde
This man is very bolde,
And in his learning olde
Intendeth for to syt:
I blame hym not a whyt,
For it wolde vexe his wyt,
And cleane agaynst his earning,
To folow such learning
As now a dayes is taught;
It wolde sone bryng to naught
His olde popish brayne,
For then he must agayne
Apply hym to the schole,
And come away a fole,
For nothing shulde he get,
His brayne hath bene to het
And with good ale so wet;
Wherefore he may now set
In feldes and in medes,
And pray vpon his beades,
For yet he hath a payre
Of beades that be right fayre,
Of corall, gete, or ambre,
At home within his chambre;
For in matins or masse
Primar and portas,
And pottes and beades,
His lyfe he leades:
But this I wota,
That if ye nota
How this idiota
Doth folow the pota,
I holde you a grota
Ye wyll rede by rota
That he may were a cota
In Cocke Lorels[152] bota.
Thus the durty doctour,
The popes oune proctour,
Wyll bragge and boost
Wyth ale and a toost,
And lyke a rutter
Hys Latin wyll vtter,
And turne and tosse hym,
Wyth tu non possum
Loquere Latinum;
This alum finum
Is bonus then vinum;
Ego volo quare
Cum tu drinkare
Pro tuum caput,
Quia apud
Te propiciacio,
Tu non potes facio
Tot quam ego;
Quam librum tu lego,
Caue de me
Apponere te:
Juro per Deum
Hoc est lifum meum,
Quia drinkum stalum
Non facere malum.
Thus our dominus dodkin
Wyth ita vera bodkin
Doth leade his lyfe,
Which to the ale wife
Is very profitable:
It is pytie he is not able
To mayntayne a table
For beggers and tinkers
And all lusty drinkers,
Or captayne or beddle
Wyth dronkardes to meddle.
Ye cannot, I am sure,
For keping of a cure
Fynde such a one well,
If ye shulde rake hell:
And therefore nowe
No more to you,
Sed perlegas ista,
Si velis, papista;
Farewell and adewe,
With a whirlary whewe,
And a tirlary typpe;
Beware of the whyppe.”
[150] With] Old ed. “Whiche.”
[151] se] Old ed. “so.”
[152] Lorels] Old ed. “losels.”
From A Commemoration or Dirige of Bastarde Edmonde Boner, alias Sauage, vsurped Bisshoppe of London. Compiled by Lemeke Auale. Episcopatum eius accipiet alter. Anno Domini. 1569. Imprinted