APPENDIX
Reading edition
The song at the beginning of the second act exists in an older and better version, which was printed by Dyce (from a Ms. in his own possession) in his edition of Skelton's Works, Vol. I, p. vii. It is not likely that the date of the composition is much older than the middle of the sixteenth century, and it may possibly be later. The following copy is taken from Dyce, but the punctuation and the capitals have been adjusted in accordance with the rules elsewhere adopted in the present work.
Backe and syde goo bare, goo bare; Bothe hande and fote goo colde; But, belly, God sende the good ale inoughe, Whether hyt be newe or olde. But yf that I maye have, trwly, Goode ale my belly full, I shall looke lyke one (by swete sainte Johnn) Were shoron agaynste the woole. Thowthe I goo bare, take ye no care, I am nothynge colde. I stuffe my skynne so full within Of joly good ale and olde. I cannot eate but lytyll meate; My stomacke ys not goode; But sure I thyncke that I cowde dryncke With hym that werythe an hoode. Dryncke ys my lyfe; although my wyfe Some tyme do chyde and scolde, Yete spare I not to plye the potte Of joly goode ale and olde. Backe and syde, etc. I love no roste but a browne toste, Or a crabbe in the fyer; A lytyll breade shall do me steade, Mooche breade I never desyer. Nor froste, nor snowe, nor wynde, I trow, Canne hurte me yf hyt wolde; I am so wrapped within, and lapped With joly goode ale and olde. Backe and syde, etc. I care ryte noughte, I take no thowte For clothes to kepe me warme; Have I goode dryncke, I surely thyncke Nothyng can do me harme. For trwly than I feare no man, Be he never so bolde, When I am armed, and throwly warmed With joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde, etc. But nowe and than I curse and banne; They make ther ale so small! God geve them care, and evill to fare! They strye the malte and all. Soche pevisshe pewe, I tell yowe trwe, Not for a crowne of golde There commethe one syppe within my lyppe, Whether hyt be newe or olde. Backe and syde, etc. Good ale and stronge makethe me amonge Full joconde and full lyte, That ofte I slepe, and take no kepe From mornynge untyll nyte. Then starte I uppe, and fle to the cuppe; The ryte waye on I holde. My thurste to staunche I fyll my paunche With joly goode ale and olde. Backe and syde, etc. And Kytte, my wyfe, that as her lyfe Lovethe well good ale to seke, Full ofte drynkythe she that ye maye se The teares ronne downe her cheke. Then dothe she troule to me the bolle As a goode malte-worme sholde, And say, "Swete harte, I have take my parte Of joly goode ale and olde." Backe and syde, etc. They that do dryncke tylle they nodde and wyncke, Even as good fellowes shulde do, They shall notte mysse to have the blysse That good ale hathe browghte them to. And all poore soules that skoure blacke bolles, And them hath lustely trowlde, God save the lyves of them and ther wyves, Wether they be yonge or olde! Backe and syde, etc.