Gret daunger for the kynge, Whan hys grace ys fastynge, Hys presens to aproche: Yt ys to your reproche. Yt fallyth for no swyne Nor sowtters to drynke wyne, Nor seche a nody polle A pryste for to controlle. Lytyll wyt in your scrybys nolle 90 That scrybblyd your fonde scrolle, Vpon hym for to take Agennst me for to make, Lyke a doctor dawpate, A lauryate poyete for to rate. Yower termys ar to grose, To far from the porpose, To contaminate And to violate The dygnyte lauryate. 100 Bolde bayarde, ye are to blynde, And grow all oute of kynde, To occupy so your mynde; For reson can I non fynde Nor good ryme in yower mater: I wondyr that ye smatyr, So for a knaue to clatyr; Ye wolde be callyd a maker, And make moche lyke Jake Rakar; Ye ar a comly crakar, 110 Ye lernyd of sum py bakar. Caste vp your curyows wrytyng, And your dyrty endytyng, And your spyghtfull despyghtyng, For alle ys nat worthe a myteyng, A makerell nor a wyteyng: Had ye gonne with me to scole, And occupyed no better your tole, Ye xulde haue kowththyd me a fole. But now, gawdy, gresy Garnesche, 120 Your face I wyse to varnyshe So suerly yt xall nat tarnishe. Thow a Sarsens hed ye bere, Row and full of lowsy here, As heuery man wele seethe, Ful of grett knauys tethe, In a felde of grene peson Ys ryme yet owte of reson; Your wyt ys so geson, Ye rayle all out of seson. 130 Your[557] skyn scabbyd and scuruy, Tawny, tannyd, and shuruy; Now vpon thys hete Rankely whan ye swete, Men sey ye wyll wax lowsy, Drunkyn, drowpy, drowsy. Your sworde ye swere, I wene, So tranchaunt and so kene, Xall kyt both wyght and grene: Your foly ys to grett 140 The kynges colours to threte. Your brethe yt ys so felle And so puauntely dothe smelle, And so haynnously doth stynke, That naythyr pump nor synke Dothe sauyr halfe so souer Ageynst a stormy shouer. O ladis of bryght colour, Of bewte that beryth the flower, When Garnyche cummyth yow amonge 150 With hys brethe so stronge, Withowte ye haue a confectioun Agenst hys poysond infeccioun, Els with hys stynkyng jawys He wyl cause yow caste your crawes, And make youer stomoke seke Ovyr the perke to pryk. Now, Garnyche, garde thy gummys; My serpentins and my gunnys Agenst ye now I bynde; 160 Thy selfe therfore defende. Thou tode, thow scorpyone, Thow bawdy babyone, Thow bere, thow brystlyd bore, Thou Moryshe mantycore, Thou rammysche stynkyng gote, Thou fowle chorlyshe parote, Thou gresly gargone glaymy, Thou swety slouen seymy,