[Footnote 18: = fat hogs.] [Footnote 19: = spits.] [Footnote 20: = Goslings.] [Footnote 21: A compôte of fruit.] [Footnote 22: = Pasties.] [Footnote 23: The recipe for Jussell was "grated bread, eggs, sage, saffron and good broth."] [Footnote 24: A kind of sweet wine.] CARDINAL WOLSEY (1522). "WHY COME YE NOT TO COURTE." +Source.+--John Skelton, _Chalmers' Works of the English Poets_. London, 1810. Vol. II., p. 274. Once yet again Of you I would frayne,[25] Why come ye not to court? To which court? To the King's court? Or to Hampton Court: The king's court Should have the excellence; But Hampton Court Hath the preeminence, And Yorkes Place,[26] With my lord's grace, To whose magnificence Is all the confluence, Suits and supplications, Embassies of all nations. Be it sour or be it sweet His wisdom is so discreet, That in a fume or an heat-- "Warden of the fleet, Set him fast by the feet!" And of his royal power When him list to lower, Then, "Have him in the tower, [27]'Saunz aulter' remedy! Have him for the by and by [28]To the Marshalsea, Or to the King's bench!" He diggeth so in the trench Of the court royal, That he ruleth them all. So he doth undermine And such sleights doth find, That the king's mind By him is subverted, And so straightly cöarted[29] In credensynge his tales, That all is but nutshells That any other saith; He hath in him such faith. And, yet all this might be, Suffered and taken in gre[30] If that that he wrought To any good end were brought: But all he bringeth to nought, By God, that me dear bought! He beareth the king on hand, That he must pull his land, To make his coffers rich. But he layeth all in the ditch And useth such abusion That in the conclusion He cometh to confusion, Perceive the cause why, To tell the truth plainly He is so ambitious And so superstitious And so much oblivious From whence that he came, That he falleth into a "caeciam"[31] Which, truly to express, Is a forgetfulness Or wilful blindness. "A caecitate cordis," In the Latin sing we, "Libera nos, Domine!" But this mad Amalecke Like to a Mamelek, He regardeth lordes, No more than potsherdes,[32] He is in such elation Of his exaltation, And the supportation Of our sovereign lord, That, God to record, He ruleth all at will Without reason or skill, How be it the primordial Of his wretched original, And his base progeny, And his greasy genealogy, He came of the sank[33] royal, That was cast out of a butcher's stall. But however he was borne, They would have the less scorn, If he could consider His birth and room together, And call to his mind How noble and how kind To him he hath found, Our sovereign lord, chief ground Of all this prelacy And set him nobly In great authority, Out from a low degree Which he cannot see. For he was, parde![34] Nor doctor of divinity, Nor doctor of the law, Nor of none other saw;[35] But a poore master of arte, God wot, had little parte Of the quatrivials,[36] Nor yet of trivials,[37] Nor of philosophy,