The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 1 (of 2)

Name: The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 1 (of 2)
Author: Skelton, John

Skelton, John

English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700

Farwell symplicite,[1120]
  Farwell humylyte,
  Farwell good charyte!
    Ye[1121] are so puffed wyth pryde,
  That no man may abyde
  Your hygh and lordely lokes:
  Ye cast vp then[1122] your bokes,
  And vertue is forgotten;
  For then ye wyll be wroken                                           600
  Of euery lyght quarell,
  And call a lorde a[1123] iauell,
  A knyght a knaue ye[1124] make;
  Ye bost, ye face, ye crake,
  And vpon you ye[1125] take
  To rule bothe[1126] kynge and kayser;
  And yf ye[1127] may haue layser,
  Ye wyll[1128] brynge all to nought,
  And that is all[1129] your thought:
  For the lordes temporall,                                            610
  Theyr rule is very small,
  Almost nothyng at all.
  Men saye howe ye[1130] appall
  The[1131] noble blode royall:
  In ernest and in game,
  Ye are the lesse to blame,
  For lordes of noble blode,
  If they well vnderstode[1132]
  How connyng myght them auaunce,[1133]
  They wold pype you another[1134] daunce:                             620
  But noble men borne
  To lerne they haue scorne,[1135]
  But hunt[1136] and blowe an horne,
  Lepe ouer[1137] lakes and dykes,
  Set nothyng by[1138] polytykes;
  Therfore ye kepe them bace,
  And mocke them to[1139] theyr face:
  This is a pyteous case,
  To you that ouer[1140] the whele
  Grete[1141] lordes must crouche[1142] and knele,                     630
  And breke theyr hose at the kne,
  As dayly men may se,
  And to remembraunce call,[1143]
  Fortune so turneth the ball
  And ruleth so ouer all,
  That honoure hath a great fall.
    Shall I tell you[1144] more? ye, shall.
  I am loth to tell all;
  But the communalte yow[1145] call
  Ydolles of Babylon,                                                  640
  _De terra_ Zabulon,
  _De terra_ Neptalym;
  For ye[1146] loue to go trym,
  Brought vp of poore estate,
  Wyth pryde inordinate,
  Sodaynly vpstarte
  From the donge carte,
  The mattocke[1147] and the shule,[1148]
  To reygne and to rule;
  And haue[1149] no grace to thynke                                    650
  Howe ye[1150] were wonte to drynke
  Of a lether bottell
  With a knauysshe stoppell,
  Whan mamockes was your meate,
  With moldy[1151] brede to eate;
  Ye cowde[1152] none other gete
  To chewe and to gnawe,
  To fyll therwith your mawe;
  Loggyng in fayre[1153] strawe,
  Couchyng your drousy heddes                                          660
  Somtyme in lousy beddes.[1154]
  Alas, this is out[1155] of mynde!
  Ye growe nowe out of kynde:
  Many one ye haue vntwynde,[1156]
  And made[1157] the commons blynde.
  But _qui se[1158] existimat stare_,
  Let hym well beware[1159]
  Lest that his fote slyp,
  And haue suche a tryp,
  And falle[1160] in suche dekay,                                      670
  That all the worlde may[1161] say,
  Come downe, in[1162] the deuyll[1163] way!
    Yet, ouer all that,[1164]
  Of bysshops they[1165] chat,
  That though ye round your hear
  An ynche aboue your ear,

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 1 (of 2)Skelton, John

General

The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 1 (of 2)

Skelton, John

English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700

Farwell symplicite,[1120]
  Farwell humylyte,
  Farwell good charyte!
    Ye[1121] are so puffed wyth pryde,
  That no man may abyde
  Your hygh and lordely lokes:
  Ye cast vp then[1122] your bokes,
  And vertue is forgotten;
  For then ye wyll be wroken                                           600
  Of euery lyght quarell,
  And call a lorde a[1123] iauell,
  A knyght a knaue ye[1124] make;
  Ye bost, ye face, ye crake,
  And vpon you ye[1125] take
  To rule bothe[1126] kynge and kayser;
  And yf ye[1127] may haue layser,
  Ye wyll[1128] brynge all to nought,
  And that is all[1129] your thought:
  For the lordes temporall,                                            610
  Theyr rule is very small,
  Almost nothyng at all.
  Men saye howe ye[1130] appall
  The[1131] noble blode royall:
  In ernest and in game,
  Ye are the lesse to blame,
  For lordes of noble blode,
  If they well vnderstode[1132]
  How connyng myght them auaunce,[1133]
  They wold pype you another[1134] daunce:                             620
  But noble men borne
  To lerne they haue scorne,[1135]
  But hunt[1136] and blowe an horne,
  Lepe ouer[1137] lakes and dykes,
  Set nothyng by[1138] polytykes;
  Therfore ye kepe them bace,
  And mocke them to[1139] theyr face:
  This is a pyteous case,
  To you that ouer[1140] the whele
  Grete[1141] lordes must crouche[1142] and knele,                     630
  And breke theyr hose at the kne,
  As dayly men may se,
  And to remembraunce call,[1143]
  Fortune so turneth the ball
  And ruleth so ouer all,
  That honoure hath a great fall.
    Shall I tell you[1144] more? ye, shall.
  I am loth to tell all;
  But the communalte yow[1145] call
  Ydolles of Babylon,                                                  640
  _De terra_ Zabulon,
  _De terra_ Neptalym;
  For ye[1146] loue to go trym,
  Brought vp of poore estate,
  Wyth pryde inordinate,
  Sodaynly vpstarte
  From the donge carte,
  The mattocke[1147] and the shule,[1148]
  To reygne and to rule;
  And haue[1149] no grace to thynke                                    650
  Howe ye[1150] were wonte to drynke
  Of a lether bottell
  With a knauysshe stoppell,
  Whan mamockes was your meate,
  With moldy[1151] brede to eate;
  Ye cowde[1152] none other gete
  To chewe and to gnawe,
  To fyll therwith your mawe;
  Loggyng in fayre[1153] strawe,
  Couchyng your drousy heddes                                          660
  Somtyme in lousy beddes.[1154]
  Alas, this is out[1155] of mynde!
  Ye growe nowe out of kynde:
  Many one ye haue vntwynde,[1156]
  And made[1157] the commons blynde.
  But _qui se[1158] existimat stare_,
  Let hym well beware[1159]
  Lest that his fote slyp,
  And haue suche a tryp,
  And falle[1160] in suche dekay,                                      670
  That all the worlde may[1161] say,
  Come downe, in[1162] the deuyll[1163] way!
    Yet, ouer all that,[1164]
  Of bysshops they[1165] chat,
  That though ye round your hear
  An ynche aboue your ear,

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 1 (of 2)

The Poetical Works of John Skelton, Volume 1 (of 2)

No reviews yet