This Princesse hathe by favour of nature, Repared ageine that wynter hathe defade, And foolis loustely reviv---- Theire l.u.s.ty notes, and theire ermenye glade; And under braunches, under plesant shade, Rejoyssing theire with many swete odours, And Zepherus with many fresshe odours, Copirted fayre, with motleye whyte and rede, All hilles, pleynes, and l.u.s.ty bankes grene, And made hir bawme to fleete in every mede; And fury Tytane shewe oute heer tresses sheene, And upon busshes, and hawthornes kene, The nightingale with plesant ermonye, Colde wynter stormes nowe she dothe defye.
On Parnoso, the l.u.s.ty Muses nyene, Citheera with hir sone nowe dwellis, This sayson singe, and theire notes tuwyne, Of poetrye, besyde the cristal wellis, Calyope the dytes of hem tellis; And Orpheus with hees stringes sharpe, Syngethe a roundell with his temperd herpe.
Wherfore to alle estates here present, This plesant tyme, moste of l.u.s.tynesse, May, is nowe comen to fore yowe of entent, To bringe yowe alle to joye and fresshnesse, Prosparitee, welfare, and al gladnesse; And al that may youre hyenesse qweerne and pleese, In any parte or doone youre hertes eese.
LONDON LICPENYE.
[_From the Copy in the Autograph of John Stow, in the Harleian MS._ 542, f. 102.]
In London ther I was lent, I saw myselfe where trouthe shuld be ateynte; Fast to Westminstar ward I went, To a man of lawe to make my complaynt; I sayd for Maris love, that holy seynt, Have pity on the powre that would procede; I would gyve sylvar, but my purs is faynt, For lacke of money I may not spede.
As I thrast thrughe out the thronge, Among them all my hode was gonn; Netheles I let not longe, To Kyngs benche tyll I come; Byfore a juge I knelyd anon, I prayd hym for G.o.ds sake he would take hede; Full rewfully to hym I gan make my mone, For lacke of money I may not spede.
Benethe hym set clerks a great rowt, Fast they writen by one a.s.sent; There stode up one and cryed round about, Richard, Robert, and one of Kent: I wist not wele what he ment, He cried so thike there indede, There were stronge theves shamed and shent, But they that laked money mowght not spede.
Unto the Comon place y yowde thoo, Where sat one with a sylker houde; I dyd hym reverence as me ought to do; I tolde hym my case as well as I coude, And sayd all my goods by nowrd and by sowde, I am defrawdyd with great falshed; He would not geve me a momme of his mouthe, For lake of money I may not spede.
Then I went me unto the Rollis, Before the clerks of the Chauncerie; There were many qui tollis, But I herd no man speke of me; Before them I knelyd upon my kne, Shewyd them myne evedence, and they began to reade.
They seyde trewer thinge might there nevar be, But for lacke of money I may not spede.
In Westminster hall I found one, Went in a longe gown of ray; I crowched and kneled before them anone, For Marys love of helpe I gan them pray; As he had be wrothe, he voyded away, Bakward his hand he gan me byd, I wot not what thow menest gan he say, Ley downe sylvar, or here thow may not spede.
In all Westminstar hall I could find nevar a one, That for me would do, thowghe I shuld dye; Without the dores were Flemings grete woon; Upon me fast they gan to cry, And sayd, Mastar, what will ye cepen or by?
Fine felt hatts, spectacles for to rede; Of this gay gere a great cawse why, For lake of money I might not spede.
Then to Westminster gate y went, When the sone was at highe prime; c.o.kes to me, they toke good entent, Called me nere, for to dyne, And proferyd me good brede, ale, and wyne; A fayre clothe they began to sprede, Rybbes of beffe bothe fat and fine; But for lacke of money I might not spede.
In to London I gan me hy; Of all the lond it bearethe the prise, Hot pescods, one gan cry, Strabery rype, and chery in the ryse; One bad me come nere and by some spice, Pepar, and saffron, they gan me bede, Clove, grayns, and flowre of rise; For lacke of money I might not spede.
Then into Chepe I gan me drawne, Where I sawe stond moche people; One bad me come nere, and by fine cloth of lawne, Paris thred coton and umple; I seyd there upon I could no skyle, I am not wont there to in dede, One bad me by an hewre my hed to hele; For lake of money I might not spede.
Then went I forth by London stone, Thrught out all Canywike strete; Drapors to me they called anone, Grete chepe of clothe they gan me hete; Then come ther one, and cried hot shepes fete; Risshes faire and grene, anothar began to grede, Bothe melwell and makarell I gran mete; But for lacke of money I myght not spede.
Then I hied me into Est Chepe; One cries ribes of befe, and many a pie; Pewtar potts they clatteryd or a heape; Ther was harpe, pipe, and sawtry; Ye by c.o.kke, nay by c.o.kke, some began to cry; Some sang of Jenken and Julian, to get themselves mede; Ful fayne I wold hadd of that mynstralsie, But for lacke of money I cowld not spede.
Into Cornhill anon I yede, Where is moche stolne gere amonge; I saw wher henge myne owne hode, That I had lost in Westminstar amonge the throng; Then I beheld it with lokes full longe, I kenned it as well as I dyd my crede, To be myne owne hode agayne; me thought it wrong, But for lacke of money I might not spede.
Then came the Taverner, and toke me by the sleve, And seyd Ser, a pint of wyn would yow a.s.say?
Syr, qwod I, it may not greve, For a peny may do no more then it may: I dranke a pint, and therefore gan pay; Sore a hungred away I yede, For well London lykke peny for ones eye, For lake of money I may not spede.
Then I hyed me to Byllingesgate, And cried wagge wagge gow hens; I praye a barge man, for G.o.ds sake, That they would spare me myn expens; He sayde, ryse up, man, and get the hens, What menist thow, I will do on the no almes dede, Here scapeth no man byneth ij pens, For lacke of money I myght not spede.
Then I conveyed me into Kent; For of the law would I medle no more, By caus no man to me would take entent, I dight me to the plowe even as I did before.
Thus save London that in Bethelem was bore, And every trew man of law G.o.d graunt hymsels med, And they that be othar, G.o.d theyr state restore; For he that lacketh money with them he shall not spede.
EXPLICIT LONDON LIKKE PENY.
LONDON LYCKPENY.
A BALLADE COMPYLED BY DAN JOHN LYDGATE MONKE OF BERY, ABOUT ---- YERES AGOE, AND NOW NEWLY OVERSENE AND AMENDED.
[_Harleian MSS._ 367, f. 126, 127.]
To London once, my stepps I bent, Where trouth in no wyse should be faynt: To Westmynster ward I forthwith went, To a man of law to make complaynt.
I sayd, for Mary"s love that holy saynt, Pity the poore that would proceede; But for lack of mony I cold not spede.
And as I thrust the prese amonge, By froward chaunce my hood was gone; Yet for all that I stayd not longe, Tyll at the kynge bench I was come.
Before the judge I kneled anon, And prayd hym for G.o.ds sake to take heede; But for lack of money I myght not spede.
Beneth them sat clarkes a great rout, Which fast dyd wryte by one a.s.sent; There stoode up one and cryed about, Rychard, Robert, and John of Kent; I wyst not wele what this man ment: He cryed so thycke there indede, But he that lackt mony myght not spede.
Unto the common place I yode thoo, Where sat one with a sylken hoode; I dyd hym reverence, for I ought to do so, And told my case as well as I coud, How my goods were defrauded me by falshood.
I gat not a mum of his mouth for my meed, And for lack of mony I myght not spede.
Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence, Before the clarkes of the chauncerye, Where many I found earnyng of pence, But none at all once regarded mee: I gave them my playnt uppon my knee; They lyked it well when they had it reade, But lackyng mony I could not be sped.
In Westmynster hall I found out one, Which went in a long gown of raye; I crouched and kneled before hym anon: For Maryes love, of help I hym praye.
I wot not what thou meanest, gan he say; To get me thence he dyd me bede, For lack of mony I cold not speed.
Within this hall, neithere ryche nor yett poor, Wold do for me ought, although I shold dye; Which seing, I gat me out of the doore, Where Flemynge began on me for to cry, Master, what will you copen or by, Fyne felt hatts, or spectacles to reede?
Lay down your sylver, and here you may spede.
Then to Westmynster gate I presently went, When the sonn was at hyghe pryme; c.o.kes to me, they tooke good entent, And profered me bread with ale and wyne, Rybbs of befe both fat and ful fyne; A fayre cloth they gan for to sprede, But wantyng mony I might not be speede.
Then unto London I dyd me hye, Of all the land it beareth the pryse; Hot pescods one began to crye, Straberry rype, and cherryes in the ryse: One bad me come nere, and by some spyce, Peper, and sayforne, they gan me bede; But for lacke of money I myght not spede.
Then to the Chepe I began me drawne, Where mutch people I sawe for to stande; One ofred me velvet, sylke, and lawne, An other he taketh me by the haunde, Here is Parys thred, the fynest in the launde.
I never was used to such thyngs in dede, And wanting mony I myght not spede.
Then went I forth by London stone, Throughout all Canwyke streete; Drapers mutch cloth me offred anone: Then comes me one, cryd hot shepes feete, One cryde makerell, ryshes grene, another gan greete, One bad me by a hood to cover my head; But fore want of mony I myght not be sped.
Then I hyed me into Estchepe; One cryes rybbs of befe, and many a pye; Pewter potts they clattered on a heape, There was harpe, pype, and mynstrelsye; Yea by c.o.c.k, nay by c.o.c.k, some began crye, Some songe of Jenken and Julyan for there mede; But for lack of mony I myght not spede.
Then into Cornhyll anon I yode, Where was much stolen gere amonge; I saw where honge myne owne hoode, That I had lost amonge the thronge; To by my own hood I thought it wronge, I knew it well as I dyd my crede; But for lack of mony I could not spede.
The Taverner took mee by the sleve; Sir, sayth he, wyll you our wyne a.s.say?
I answerd, that can not mutch me greve, A peny can do no more than it may: I dranke a pynt, and for it dyd pay; Yet sore a hungerd from thence I yede, And wantyng my mony I cold not spede.
Then hyed I me to Belyngsgate; And one cryed hoo, go we hence; I prayd a barge man for G.o.ds sake, That he wold spare me my expence.
Thou scapst not here, quod he, under ij pence, I lyst not yet bestow my almes dede: Thus lacking mony I could not speede.
Then I convayed me into Kent; For of the law wold I meddle no more, Because no man to me tooke entent, I dyght me to do as I dyd before.
Now Jesus that in Bethlem was bore, Save London, and send trew lawyers there mede, For who so wants mony with them shall not spede.
EXPLICIT LONDON LYCKPENY.
UPON THE EMPTINESS OF HIS PURSE: