Volume 2 — MAGNYFYCENCE, A GOODLY INTERLUDE AND A MERY, DEUYSED AND MADE BY MAYSTER SKELTON, POET LAUREATE.[779]

MAGNYFYCENCE, A GOODLY INTERLUDE AND A MERY, DEUYSED AND MADE BY MAYSTER SKELTON, POET LAUREATE.[779]

These be the Names of the Players:

Felycyte.

Lyberte.

Measure.

Magnyfycence.

Fansy.

Counterfet Counte[naunce].

Crafty Conueyaunce.

Clokyd Colusyon.

Courtly Abusyon.

Foly.

Aduersyte.

Pouerte.

Dyspare.

Myschefe.

Goodhope.

Redresse.

[Sad] Cyrcumspeccyon.

Perseueraunce.

MAGNYFYCENCE.

Felicite. Al thyngys contryuyd by mannys reason,

The world enuyronnyd of hygh and low estate,

Be it erly or late, welth hath a season,

Welth is of wysdome the very trewe probate;

A fole is he with welth that fallyth at debate:

But men nowe a dayes so vnhappely be vryd,

That nothynge than welth may worse be enduryd.

To tell you the cause me semeth it no nede,

The amense therof is far to call agayne;

For when men by welth, they haue lytyll drede 10

Of that may come after; experyence trewe and playne,

Howe after a drought there fallyth a showre of rayne,

And after a hete oft cometh a stormy colde.

A man may haue welth, but not, as he wolde,

Ay to contynewe and styll to endure;

But yf prudence be proued with sad cyrcumspeccyon,

Welthe myght be wonne and made to the lure,

If noblenesse were aquayntyd with sober dyreccyon;

But wyll hath reason so vnder subieccyon,

And so dysordereth this worlde ouer all, 20

That welthe and felicite is passynge small.

But where wonnys Welthe, and a man wolde wyt?

For welthfull Felicite truly is my name.

Lyberte.[780] Mary, Welthe and I was apoynted to mete,

And eyther I am dysseyued, or ye be the same.

Fel. Syr, as ye say, I haue harde of your fame;

Your name is Lyberte, as I vnderstande.

Lyb. Trewe you say, syr; gyue me your hande.

Fel. And from whens come ye, and it myght be askyd?

Lyb. To tell you, syr, I dare not, leest I sholde be maskyd 30

In a payre of fetters or a payre of stockys.

Fel. Here you not howe this gentylman mockys?

Lyb. Ye, to knackynge ernyst what and it preue?

Fel. Why, to say what he wyll, Lyberte hath leue.

Lyb. Yet Lyberte hath ben lockyd vp and kept in the mew.

Fel. In dede, syr, that lyberte was not worthe a cue:

Howe be it lyberte may somtyme be to large,

But yf reason be regent and ruler of your barge.

Lyb. To that ye say I can well condyssende:

Shewe forth, I pray you, here in what you intende. 40

Fel. Of that I intende to make demonstracyon,

It askyth lesure with good aduertysment.

Fyrst, I say, we owght to haue in consyderacyon,

That lyberte be lynkyd with the chayne of countenaunce,

Lyberte to let from all maner offence;

For lyberte at large is lothe to be stoppyd,

But with countenaunce your corage must be croppyd.

Lyb. Then thus to you—

Fel. Nay, suffer me yet ferther to say,

And peraduenture I shall content your mynde. 50

Lyberte, I wote well, forbere no man there may,

It is so swete in all maner of kynde;

Howe be it lyberte makyth many a man blynde;

By lyberte is done many a great excesse;

Lyberte at large wyll oft wax reklesse:

Perceyue ye this parcell?

Lyb. Ye, syr, passyng well:

But, and you wolde me permyt

To shewe parte of my wyt,

Somwhat I coulde enferre, 60

Your consayte to debarre,

Vnder supportacyon

Of pacyent tolleracyon.

Fel. God forbyd ye sholde be let

Your reasons forth to fet;

Wherfore at lyberte

Say what ye wyll to me.

Lyb. Brefly to touche of my purpose the effecte;

Lyberte is laudable and pryuylegyd from lawe,

Judycyall rygoure shall not me correcte— 70

Fel. Softe, my frende; herein your reason is but rawe.

Lyb. Yet suffer me to say the surpluse of my sawe;

What wote ye where vpon I wyll conclude?

I say, there is no welthe where as lyberte is subdude;

I trowe ye can not say nay moche to this;

To lyue vnder lawe, it is captyuyte;

Where drede ledyth the daunce, there is no ioy nor blysse;

Or howe can you proue that there is felycyte,

And you haue not your owne fre lyberte

To sporte at your pleasure, to ryn and to ryde? 80

Where lyberte is absent, set welthe asyde.

Hic intrat Measure.

Meas. Cryst you assyste in your altrycacyon!

Fel. Why, haue you harde of our dysputacyon?

Meas. I parceyue well howe eche of you doth reason.

Lyb. Mayster Measure, you be come in good season.

Meas. And it is wonder that your wylde insolence

Can be content with Measure presence.

Fel. Wolde it please you then—

Lyb. Vs to informe and ken—

Meas. A, ye be wonders men! 90

Your langage is lyke the penne

Of hym that wryteth to fast.

Fel. Syr, yf any worde haue past

Me other fyrst or last,

To you I arecte it, and cast

Therof the reformacyon.

Lyb. And I of the same facyon;

Howe be it, by protestacyon,

Dyspleasure that you none take,

Some reason we must make. 100

Meas. That wyll not I forsake,

So it in measure be:

Come of, therfore, let se;

Shall I begynne or ye?

Fel. Nay, ye shall begynne, by my wyll.

Lyb. It is reason and skyll,

We your pleasure fulfyll.

Meas. Then ye must bothe consent

You to holde content

With myne argument; 110

And I muste you requyre

Me pacyently to here.

Fel. Yes, syr, with ryght good chere.

Lyb. With all my herte intere.

Meas. Oracius to recorde, in his volumys olde,

With euery condycyon measure must be sought:

Welthe without measure wolde here hymselfe to bolde,

Lyberte without measure proue a thynge of nought;

I ponder by nomber, by measure all thynge is wrought,

As at the fyrst orygynall by godly opynyon, 120

Whych prouyth well that measure shold haue domynyon:

Where measure is mayster, plenty dothe none offence;

Where measure lackyth, all thynge dysorderyd is;

Where measure is absent, ryot kepeth resydence;

Where measure is ruler, there is nothynge amysse;

Measure is treasure: howe say ye, is it not this?

Fel. Yes, questyonlesse, in myne opynyon,

Measure is worthy to haue domynyon.

Lyb. Vnto that same I am ryght well agrede,

So that lyberte be not lefte behynde. 130

Meas. Ye, lyberte with measure nede neuer drede.

Lyb. What, lyberte to measure then wolde ye bynde?

Meas. What ellys? for otherwyse it were agaynst kynde:

If lyberte sholde lepe and renne where he lyst,

It were no vertue, it were a thynge vnblyst;

It were a myschefe, yf lyberte lacked a reyne,

Where with to rule hym with the wrythyng of a rest:

All trebyllys and tenours be rulyd by a meyne;

Lyberte without measure is acountyd for a beste;

There is no surfet where measure rulyth the feste; 140

There is no excesse where measure hath his helthe;

Measure contynwyth prosperyte and welthe.

Fel. Vnto your rule I wyll annex my mynde.

Lyb. So wolde I, but I wolde be lothe,

That wonte was to be formyst, now to come behynde:

It were a shame, to God I make an othe,

Without I myght cut it out of the brode clothe,

As I was wonte euer at my fre wyll.

Meas. But haue ye not herde say, that wyll is no skyll?

Take sad dyreccyon, and leue this wantonnesse. 150

Lyb. It is[781] no maystery.

Fel. Tushe, let Measure precede,

And after his mynde herdely your selfe adresse;

For, without measure, pouerte and nede

Wyll crepe vpon vs, and vs to myschefe lede;

For myschefe wyll mayster vs, yf measure vs forsake.

Lyb. Well, I am content your wayes to take.

Meas. Surely, I am ioyous that ye be myndyd thus.

Magnyfycence to mayntayne, your promosyon shalbe.

Fel. So in his harte he may be glad of vs. 160

Lyb. There is no prynce but he hath nede of vs thre,

Welthe, with Measure and plesaunt Lyberte.

Meas. Nowe pleasyth you a lytell whyle to stande;

Me semeth Magnyfycence is comynge here at hande.

Hic intrat Magnyfycence.

Magn. To assure you of my noble porte and fame,

Who lyst to knowe, Magnyfycence I hyght.

But, Measure my frende, what hyght this mannys name?

Meas. Syr, though ye be a noble prynce of myght,

Yet in this man you must set your delyght;

And, syr, this other mannys name is Lyberte. 170

Magn. Welcome, frendys, ye are bothe vnto me:

But nowe let me knowe of your conuersacyon.

Fel. Pleasyth your grace, Felycyte they me call.

Lyb. And I am Lyberte, made of in euery nacyon.

Magn. Conuenyent persons for any prynce ryall.

Welthe with Lyberte, with me bothe dwell ye shall,

To the gydynge of my Measure you bothe commyttynge:

That Measure be mayster, vs semeth it is syttynge.

Meas. Where as ye haue, syr, to me them assygned,

Suche order, I trust, with them for to take, 180

So that welthe with measure shalbe conbyned,

And lyberte his large with measure shall make.

Fel. Your ordenaunce, syr, I wyll not forsake.

Lyb. And I my selfe hooly to you wyll inclyne.

Magn. Then may I say that ye be seruauntys myne,

For by measure, I warne you, we thynke to be gydyd;

Wherin it is necessary my pleasure you knowe,

Measure and I wyll neuer be deuydyd

For no dyscorde that any man can sawe;

For measure is a meane, nother to by nor to lawe, 190

In whose attemperaunce I haue suche delyght,

That measure shall neuer departe from my syght.

Fel. Laudable your consayte is to be acountyd;

For welthe without measure sodenly wyll slyde.

Lyb. As your grace full nobly hath recountyd,

Measure with noblenesse sholde be alyde.

Magn. Then, Lyberte, se that Measure be your gyde,

For I wyll vse you by his aduertysment.

Fel. Then shall you haue with you prosperyte resydent.

Meas. I trowe, good fortune hath annexyd vs together, 200

To se howe greable we are of one mynde;

There is no flaterer, nor losyll so lyther,

This lynkyd chayne of loue that can vnbynde.

Nowe that ye haue me chefe ruler assyngned,

I wyll endeuour me to order euery thynge

Your noblenesse and honour consernynge.

Lyb. In ioy and myrthe your mynde shalbe inlargyd,

And not embracyd with pusyllanymyte;

But plenarly all thought from you must be dyschargyd,

If ye lyst to lyue after your fre lyberte: 210

All delectacyons aquayntyd is with me,

By me all persons worke what they lyste.

Meas. Hem, syr, yet beware of Had I wyste!

Lyberte in some cause becomyth a gentyll mynde,

Bycause course of measure, yf I be in the way:

Who countyth[782] without me, is caste to fer behynde

Of his rekenynge, as euydently we may

Se[783] at our eye the worlde day by day;

For defaute of measure all thynge dothe excede.

Fel. All that ye say is as trewe as the Crede; 220

For howe be it lyberte to welthe is conuenyent,

And from felycyte may not be forborne,

Yet measure hath ben so longe from vs absent,

That all men laugh at lyberte to scorne;

Welth and wyt, I say, be so threde bare worne,

That all is without measure, and fer beyonde the mone.

Magn. Then noblenesse, I se well, is almoste vndone,

But yf therof the soner amendys be made;

For dowtlesse I parceyue my magnyfycence

Without measure lyghtly may fade, 230

Of to moche lyberte vnder the offence:

Wherfore, Measure, take Lyberte with you hence,

And rule hym after the rule of your scole.

Lyb. What, syr, wolde ye make me a poppynge fole?

Meas. Why, were not your selfe agreed to the same,

And now wolde ye swarue from your owne ordynaunce?

Lyb. I wolde be rulyd, and I myght for shame.

Fel. A, ye make me laughe at your inconstaunce.

Magn. Syr, without any longer delyaunce,

Take Lyberte to rule, and folowe myne entent. 240

Meas. It shalbe done at your commaundement.

Itaque Measure exeat locum cum Libertate, et maneat Magnyfycence cum Felicitate.

Magn. It is a wanton thynge this Lyberte;

Perceyue you not howe lothe he was to abyde

The rule of Measure, notwithstandynge we

Haue deputyd Measure hym to gyde?

By measure eche thynge duly is tryde:

Thynke you not thus, my frende Felycyte?

Fel. God forbede that it other wyse sholde be!

Magn. Ye coulde not ellys, I wote, with me endure.

Fel. Endure? no, God wote, it were great payne; 250

But yf I were orderyd by iust measure,

It were not possyble me longe to retayne.

Hic intrat Fansy.

Fan. Tusche, holde your pece, your langage is vayne.

Please it your grace to take no dysdayne,

To shewe you playnly the trouth as I thynke.

Magn. Here is none forsyth whether you flete or synke.

Fel. From whens come you, syr, that no man lokyd

after?

Magn. Or who made you so bolde to interrupe my tale?

Fan. Nowe, benedicite, ye wene I were some hafter,

Or ellys some iangelynge Jacke of the vale; 260

Ye wene that I am dronken, bycause I loke pale.

Magn. Me semeth that ye haue dronken more than ye haue bled.

Fan. Yet amonge noble men I was brought vp and bred.

Fel. Nowe leue this iangelynge, and to vs expounde

Why that ye sayd our langage was in vayne.

Fan. Mary, vpon trouth my reason I grounde,

That without largesse noblenesse can not rayne;

And that I sayd ones, yet I say agayne,

I say without largesse worshyp hath no place,

For largesse is a purchaser of pardon and of grace. 270

Magn. Nowe, I beseche thé, tell me what is thy name?

Fan. Largesse, that all lordes sholde loue, syr, I hyght.

Fel. But hyght you, Largesse, encreace of noble fame?

Fan. Ye, syr, vndoubted.

Fel. Then, of very ryght,

With Magnyfycence, this noble prynce of myght,

Sholde be your dwellynge, in my consyderacyon.

Magn. Yet we wyll therin take good delyberacyon.

Fan. As in that, I wyll not be agaynst your pleasure.

Fel. Syr, hardely remembre what may your name auaunce. 280

Magn. Largesse is laudable, so it in measure be.

Fan. Largesse is he that all prynces doth auaunce;

I reporte me herein to Kynge Lewes of Fraunce.

Fel. Why haue ye hym named, and all other refused?

Fan. For, syth he dyed, largesse was lytell vsed.

Plucke vp your mynde, syr; what ayle you to muse?

Haue ye not welthe here at your wyll?

It is but a maddynge, these wayes that ye vse:

What auayleth lordshyp, yourselfe for to kyll

With care and with thought howe Jacke shall haue Gyl? 290

Magn. What? I haue aspyed ye are a carles page.

Fan. By God, syr, ye se but fewe wyse men of myne age;

But couetyse hath blowen you so full of wynde,

That colica passio hath gropyd you by the guttys.

Fel. In fayth, broder Largesse, you haue a mery mynde.

Fan. In fayth, I set not by the worlde two Dauncaster cuttys.

Magn. Ye wante but a wylde flyeng bolte to shote at the buttes:

Though Largesse ye hyght, your langage is to large;

For whiche ende goth forwarde ye take lytell charge.

Fel. Let se, this checke yf ye voyde canne. 300

Fan. In faythe, els had I gone to longe to scole,

But yf I coulde knowe a gose from a swanne.

Magn. Wel, wyse men may ete the fysshe, when ye shal draw the pole.

Fan. In fayth, I wyll not say that ye shall proue a fole,

But ofte tymes haue I sene wyse men do mad dedys.

Magn. Go, shake the dogge,[784] hay, syth ye wyll nedys!

You are nothynge mete with vs for to dwell,

That with your lorde and mayster so pertly can prate:

Gete you hens, I say, by my counsell;

I wyll not vse you to play with me checke mate. 310

Fan. Syr, yf I haue offended your noble estate,

I trow I haue brought you suche wrytynge of recorde,

That I shall haue you agayne my good lorde:

To you recommendeth Sad Cyrcumspeccyon,

And sendeth you this wrytynge closed vnder sele.

Magn. This wrytynge is welcome with harty affeccyon:

Why kepte you it thus longe? howe dothe he? wele?

Fan. Syr, thanked be God, he hath his hele.

Magn. Welthe, gete you home, and commaunde me to Mesure;

Byd hym take good hede to you, my synguler tresure. 320

Fel. Is there ony thynge elles your grace wyll commaunde me?

Magn. Nothynge but fare you well tyll sone;

And that he take good kepe to Lyberte.

Fel. Your pleasure, syr, shortely shall be done.

Magn. I shall come to you myselfe, I trowe, this after none.[785]

I pray you, Larges, here to remayne,

Whylest I knowe what this letter dothe contayne.

Hic faciat tanquam legeret litteras tacite. Interim superveniat cantando Counterfet Countenaunce suspenso gradu, qui, viso Magnyfycence, sensim retrocedat; at[786] tempus post pusillum rursum accedat Counterfet Countenaunce prospectando et vocitando a longe; et Fansy animat[787] silentium cum manu.

C. Count. What, Fansy, Fansy!

Magn. Who is that that thus dyd cry?

Me thought he called Fansy. 330

Fan. It was a Flemynge hyght Hansy.

Magn. Me thought he called Fansy me behynde.

Fan. Nay, syr, it was nothynge but your mynde:

But nowe, syr, as touchynge this letter—

Magn. I shall loke in it at leasure better:

And surely ye are to hym beholde;

And for his sake ryght gladly I wolde

Do what I coude to do you good.

Fan. I pray, God kepe you in that mood!

Magn. This letter was wryten ferre hence. 340

Fan. By lakyn, syr, it hathe cost me pence

And grotes many one, or I came to your presence.

Magn. Where was it delyuered you, shewe vnto me.

Fan. By God, syr, beyonde the se.

Magn. At what place nowe, as you gesse?

Fan. By my trouthe, syr, at Pountesse;

This wrytynge was taken me there,

But neuer was I in gretter fere.

Magn. Howe so?

Fan. By God, at the see syde, 350

Had I not opened my purse wyde,

I trowe, by our lady, I had ben slayne,

Or elles I had lost myne eres twayne.

Magn.[788] By your soth?

Fan. Ye, and there is suche a wache,

That no man can scape but they hym cache.

They bare me in hande that I was a spye;

And another bade put out myne eye,

Another wolde myne eye were blerde,

Another bade shaue halfe my berde; 360

And boyes to the pylery gan me plucke,

And wolde haue made me Freer Tucke,

To preche out of the pylery hole,

Without an antetyme or a stole;

And some bade sere hym with a marke:

To gete me fro them I had moche warke.

Magn. Mary, syr, ye were afrayde.

Fan. By my trouthe, had I not payde and prayde,

And made largesse as I hyght,

I had not ben here with you this nyght; 370

But surely largesse saued my lyfe,

For largesse stynteth all maner of stryfe.

Magn. It dothe so sure nowe and than,

But largesse is not mete for euery man.

Fan. No, but for you grete estates:

Largesse stynteth grete debates;

And he that I came fro to this place

Sayd I was mete for your grace;

And in dede, syr, I here men talke,

By the way as I ryde and walke, 380

Say howe you excede in noblenesse,

If you had with you largesse.

Magn. And say they so in very dede?

Fan. With ye, syr, so God me spede.

Magn. Yet mesure is a mery mene.

Fan. Ye, syr, a blannched almonde is no bene.

Measure is mete for a marchauntes hall,

But largesse becometh a state ryall.

What, sholde you pynche at a peeke of otes,

Ye wolde sone pynche at a pecke of grotes. 390

Thus is the talkynge of one and of oder,

As men dare speke it hugger mugger;

A lorde a negarde, it is a shame,

But largesse may amende your name.

Magn. In faythe, Largesse, welcome to me.

Fan. I pray you, syr, I may so be,

And of my seruyce you shall not mysse.

Magn. Togyder we wyll talke more of this:

Let vs departe from hens home to my place.

Fan. I folow euen after your noble grace. 400

Hic discedat Magnificens cum Fansy, et intrat[789] Counterfet Countenaunce.

C. Count. What, I say, herke a worde.

Fan. Do away, I say, the deuylles torde!

C. Count. Ye, but how longe shall I here awayte?

Fan. By Goddys body, I come streyte:

I hate this blunderyng that thou doste make.

C. Count. Nowe to the deuyll I thé betake,

For in fayth ye be well met.

Fansy hath cachyd in a flye net

This noble man Magnyfycence,

Of Largesse vnder the pretence. 410

They haue made me here to put the stone:

But nowe wyll I, that they be gone,

In bastarde ryme, after the dogrell gyse,

Tell you where of my name dothe ryse.

For Counterfet Countenaunce knowen am I;

This worlde is full of my foly.

I set not by hym a fly,

That can not counterfet a lye,

Swere, and stare, and byde therby,

And countenaunce it clenly, 420

And defende it manerly.

A knaue wyll counterfet nowe a knyght,

A lurdayne lyke a lorde to fyght,[790]

A mynstrell lyke a man of myght,

A tappyster lyke a lady bryght:

Thus make I them wyth thryft to fyght,

Thus at the laste I brynge hym[791] ryght

To Tyburne, where they hange on hyght.

To counterfet I can by praty wayes:

Of nyghtys to occupy counterfet kayes, 430

Clenly to counterfet newe arayes,

Counterfet eyrnest by way of playes:

Thus am I occupyed at all assayes;

What so euer I do, all men me prayse,

And mekyll am I made of nowe adays:

Counterfet maters in the lawe of the lande,

Wyth golde and grotes they grese my hande,

In stede of ryght that wronge may stande,

And counterfet fredome that is bounde;

I counterfet[792] suger that is but founde; 440

Counterfet capytaynes by me are mande;

Of all lewdnesse I kyndell the brande;

Counterfet kyndnesse, and thynke dyscayte;

Counterfet letters by the way of sleyght;

Subtelly vsynge counterfet weyght;

Counterfet langage, fayty bone geyte.

Counterfetynge is a proper bayte;

A counte to counterfet in a resayte;

To counterfet well is a good consayte.

Counterfet maydenhode may well be borne, 450

But counterfet coynes is laughynge to scorne;

It is euyll patchynge of that is torne;

Whan the noppe is rughe, it wolde be shorne;

Counterfet haltynge without a thorne;

Yet counterfet chafer is but euyll corne;

All thynge is worse whan it is worne.

What, wolde ye, wyues, counterfet

The courtly gyse of the newe iet?

An olde barne wolde be vnderset:

It is moche worthe that is ferre fet. 460

What, wanton, wanton, nowe well ymet!

What, Margery Mylke Ducke, mermoset!

It wolde be masked in my net;

It wolde be nyce, thoughe I say nay;

By Crede, it wolde haue fresshe aray,

And therfore shall my husbande pay;

To counterfet she wyll assay

All the newe gyse, fresshe and gaye,

And be as praty as she may,

And iet it ioly as a iay: 470

Counterfet prechynge, and byleue the contrary;

Counterfet conscyence, peuysshe pope holy;

Counterfet sadnesse, with delynge full madly;

Counterfet holynes is called ypocrysy;

Counterfet reason is not worth a flye;

Counterfet wysdome, and workes of foly;

Counterfet countenaunce euery man dothe occupy:

Counterfet worshyp outwarde men may se;

Ryches rydeth out, at home is pouerte;

Counterfet pleasure is borne out by me: 480

Coll wolde go clenly, and it wyll not be,

And Annot wolde be nyce, and laughes, tehe wehe;

Your counterfet countenaunce is all of nysyte,

A plummed partrydge all redy to flye:

A knokylbonyarde wyll counterfet a clarke,

He wolde trotte gentylly, but he is to starke,

At his cloked counterfetynge dogges dothe barke;

A carter a courtyer, it is a worthy warke,

That with his whyp his mares was wonte to yarke;

A custrell to dryue the deuyll out of the derke, 490

A counterfet courtyer with a knaues marke.

To counterfet this freers haue lerned me;

This nonnes nowe and then, and it myght be,

Wolde take in the way of counterfet charyte

The grace of God vnder benedicite;

To counterfet thyr counsell they gyue me a fee;

Chanons can not counterfet but vpon thre,

Monkys may not for drede that men sholde them se.

Hic ingrediatur Fansy properanter cum Crafty Conueyaunce, cum famine multo[793] adinvicem garrulantes: tandem, viso Counterfet Countenaunce, dicat Crafty Conueyaunce.

Cr. Con. What, Counterfet Countenaunce!

C. Count. What, Crafty Conueyaunce! 500

Fan. What, the deuyll, are ye two of aquayntaunce?

God gyue you a very myschaunce!

Cr. Con. Yes, yes, syr, he and I haue met.

C. Count. We haue bene togyder bothe erly and late:

But, Fansy my frende, where haue ye bene so longe?

Fan. By God, I haue bene about a praty pronge;

Crafty Conueyaunce, I sholde say, and I.

Cr. Con. By God, we haue made Magnyfycence to ete a flye.

C. Count. Howe coulde ye do that, and [I] was away?

Fan. By God, man, bothe his pagent and thyne he can play. 510

C. Count. Say trouth?

Cr. Con. Yes, yes, by lakyn, I shall thé warent,

As longe as I lyue, thou haste an heyre parent.

Fan. Yet haue we pyckyd out a rome for thé.

C. Count. Why, shall we dwell togyder all thre?

Cr. Con. Why, man, it were to great a wonder,

That we thre galauntes sholde be longe asonder.

C. Count. For Cockys harte, gyue me thy hande.

Fan. By the masse, for ye are able to dystroy an hole lande.

Cr. Con. By God, yet it muste begynne moche of thé. 520

Fan. Who that is ruled by vs, it shalbe longe or he thee.

C. Count. But, I say, kepest thou the olde name styll that thou had?

Cr. Con. Why, wenyst thou, horson, that I were so mad?

Fan. Nay, nay, he hath chaunged his, and I haue chaunged myne.

C. Count. Nowe, what is his name, and what is thyne?

Fan. In faythe, Largesse I hyght,

And I am made a knyght.

C. Count. A rebellyon agaynst nature,

So large a man, and so lytell of stature!

But, syr, howe counterfetyd ye? 530

Cr. Con. Sure Surueyaunce[794] I named me.

C. Count. Surueyaunce! where ye suruey,

Thryfte hathe lost her cofer kay.

Fan. But is it not well? howe thynkest thou?

C. Count. Yes, syr, I gyue God auowe,

Myselfe coude not counterfet it better.

But what became of the letter,

That I counterfeyted you vnderneth a shrowde?

Fan. By the masse, odly well alowde.

Cr. Con. By God, had not I it conuayed, 540

Yet Fansy had ben dysceyued.

C. Count. I wote, thou arte false ynoughe for one.

Fan. By my trouthe, we had ben gone:

And yet, in fayth, man, we lacked thé

For to speke with Lyberte.

C. Count. What is Largesse without Lyberte?

Cr. Con. By Mesure mastered yet is he.

C. Count. What, is your conueyaunce no better?

Fan. In faythe, Mesure is lyke a tetter,

That ouergroweth a mannes face, 550

So he ruleth ouer all our place.

Cr. Con. Nowe therfore, whylest we are togyder,—

Counterfet Countenaunce, nay, come hyder,—

I say, whylest we are togyder in same—

C. Count. Tushe, a strawe, it is a shame

That we can no better than so.

Fan. We wyll remedy it, man, or we go;

For, lyke as mustarde is sharpe of taste,[795]

Ryght so a sharpe fansy must be founde

Wherwith Mesure to confounde. 560

Cr. Con. Can you a remedy for a tysyke,

That sheweth yourselfe thus spedde in physyke?

C. Count. It is a gentyll reason of a rake.

Fan. For all these iapes yet that ye[796] make—

Cr. Con. Your fansy maketh myne elbowe to ake.

Fan. Let se, fynde you a better way.

C. Count. Take no dyspleasure of that we say.

Cr. Con. Nay, and you be angry and ouerwharte,

A man may beshrowe your angry harte.

Fan. Tushe, a strawe, I thought none yll. 570

C. Count. What, shall we iangle thus all the day styll?

Cr. Con. Nay, let vs our heddes togyder cast.

Fan. Ye, and se howe it may be compast,

That Mesure were cast out of the dores.

C. Count. Alasse, where is my botes and my spores?

Cr. Con. In all this hast whether wyll ye ryde?

C. Count. I trowe, it shall not nede to abyde.

Cockes woundes, se, syrs, se, se!

Hic ingrediatur Cloked Colusyon cum elato aspectu, deorsum et sursum ambulando.

Fan. Cockes armes, what is he?

Cr. Con. By Cockes harte, he loketh hye; 580

He hawketh, me thynke, for a butterflye.

C. Count. Nowe, by Cockes harte, well abyden,

For, had you not come, I had ryden.

Cl. Col. Thy wordes be but wynde, neuer they haue no wayght;

Thou hast made me play the iurde hayte.

C. Count. And yf ye knewe howe I haue mused,

I am sure ye wolde haue me excused.

Cl. Col. I say, come hyder: what are these twayne?

C. Count. By God, syr, this is Fansy small brayne;

And Crafty Conuayaunce, knowe you not hym? 590

Cl. Col. Knowe hym, syr! quod he; yes, by Saynt Sym.

Here is a leysshe of ratches to renne an hare:

Woo is that purse that ye shall share!

Fan. What call ye him, this?

Cr. Con. I trowe, that he is.

C. Count. Tushe, holde your pece.

Se you not howe they prece

For to knowe your name?

Cl. Col. Knowe they not me, they are to blame.

Knowe you not me, syrs? 600

Fan. No, in dede.

Cr. Con. Abyde, lette me se, take better hede:

Cockes harte, it is Cloked Colusyon.

Cl. Col. A, syr, I pray God gyue you confusyon!

Fan. Cockes armes, is that your name?

C. Count. Ye, by the masse, this is euen the same,

That all this matter must vnder grope.

Cr. Con. What is this he wereth, a cope?

Cl. Col. Cappe, syr; I say you be to bolde.

Fan. Se, howe he is wrapped for the colde: 610

Is it not a vestment?

Cl. Col. A, ye wante a rope.

C. Count. Tushe, it is Syr Johnn Double cloke.

Fan. Syr, and yf ye wolde not be wrothe—

Cl. Col. What sayst?

Fan. Here was to lytell clothe.

Cl. Col. A, Fansy, Fansy, God sende thé brayne!

Fan. Ye, for your wyt is cloked for the rayne.

Cr. Con. Nay, lette vs not clatter thus styll.

Cl. Col. Tell me, syrs, what is your wyll. 620

C. Count. Syr, it is so that these twayne

With Magnyfycence in housholde do remayne;

And there they wolde haue me to dwell,

But I wyll be ruled after your counsell.

Fan. Mary, so wyll we also.

Cl. Col. But tell me where aboute ye go.

C. Count. By God, we wolde gete vs all thyder,

Spell the remenaunt, and do togyder.

Cl. Col. Hath Magnyfycence ony tresure?

Cr. Con. Ye, but he spendeth it all in mesure. 630

Cl. Col. Why, dwelleth Mesure where ye two dwell?

In faythe, he were better to dwell in hell.

Fan. Yet where we wonne, nowe there wonneth he.

Cl. Col. And haue you not amonge you Lyberte?

C. Count. Ye, but he is a captyuyte.

Cl. Col. What, the deuyll, howe may that be?

C. Count. I can not tell you: why aske you me?

Aske these two that there dothe dwell.

Cl. Col. Syr, the playnesse you tell me.[797]

Cr. Con. There dwelleth a mayster men calleth Mesure— 640

Fan. Ye, and he hath rule of all his tresure.

Cr. Con. Nay, eyther let me tell, or elles tell ye.

Fan. I care not I, tell on for me.

C. Count. I pray God let you neuer to thee!

Cl. Col. What the deuyll ayleth you? can you not agree?

Cr. Con. I wyll passe ouer the cyrcumstaunce,

And shortly shewe you the hole substaunce.

Fansy and I, we twayne,

With Magnyfycence in housholde do remayne,

And counterfeted our names we haue 650

Craftely all thynges vpryght to saue,

His name Largesse, Surueyaunce myne:

Magnyfycence to vs begynneth to enclyne

Counterfet Countenaunce to haue also,

And wolde that we sholde for hym go.

C. Count. But shall I haue myne olde name styll?

Cr. Con. Pease, I haue not yet sayd what I wyll.

Fan. Here is a pystell of a postyke!

Cl. Col. Tusshe, fonnysshe Fansy, thou arte frantyke.

Tell on, syr, howe then? 660

Cr. Con. Mary, syr, he tolde vs, when

We had hym founde, we sholde hym brynge,

And that we fayled not for nothynge.

Cl. Col. All this ye may easely brynge aboute.

Fan. Mary, the better and Mesure were out.

Cl. Col. Why, can ye not put out that foule freke?

Cr. Con. No, in euery corner he wyll peke,

So that we haue no lyberte,

Nor no man in courte but he,

For Lyberte he hath in gydyng. 670

C. Count. In fayth, and without Lyberte there is no bydyng.

Fan. In fayth, and Lybertyes rome is there but small.

Cl. Col. Hem! that lyke I nothynge at all.

Cr. Con. But, Counterfet[798] Countenaunce, go we togyder,

All thre, I say.

C. Count. Shall I go? whyder?

Cr. Con.[799] To Magnyfycence with vs twayne,

And in his seruyce thé to retayne.

C. Count. But then, syr, what shall I hyght?

Cr. Con. Ye and I talkyd therof to nyght. 680

Fan. Ye, my Fansy was out of owle flyght,

For it is out of my mynde quyght.

Cr. Con. And nowe it cometh to my remembraunce:

Syr, ye shall hyght Good Demeynaunce.

C. Count. By the armes of Calys, well conceyued!

Cr. Con. When we haue hym thyder conuayed,

What and I frame suche a slyght,

That Fansy with his fonde consayte

Put Magnyfycence in suche a madnesse,

That he shall haue you in the stede of sadnesse, 690

And Sober Sadnesse shalbe your name?

Cl. Col. By Cockys body, here begynneth the game!

For then shall we so craftely cary,

That Mesure shall not there longe tary.

Fan. For Cockys harte, tary whylyst that I come agayne.

Cr. Con. We wyll se you shortly one of vs twayne.

C. Count. Now let vs go, and we shall, then.

Cl. Col. Nowe let se quyte you lyke praty men.[800]

Hic deambulat.

To passe the tyme and order whyle a man may talke

Of one thynge and other to occupy the place; 700

Then for the season that I here shall walke,

As good to be occupyed as vp and downe to trace

And do nothynge; how be it full lytell grace

There cometh and groweth of my comynge,

For Clokyd Colusyon is a perylous thynge.

Double delynge and I be all one;

Craftynge and haftynge contryued is by me;

I can dyssemble, I can bothe laughe and grone;

Playne delynge and I can neuer agre;

But dyuysyon, dyssencyon, dyrysyon, these thre 710

And I am counterfet of one mynde and thought,

By the menys of myschyef to bryng all thynges to nought.

And though I be so odyous a geste,

And euery man gladly my company wolde refuse,

In faythe yet am I occupyed with the best;

Full fewe that can themselfe of me excuse.

Whan other men laughe, than study I and muse,

Deuysynge the meanes and wayes that I can,

Howe I may hurte and hynder euery man:

Two faces in a hode couertly I bere, 720

Water in the one hande, and fyre in the other;

I can fede forth a fole, and lede hym by the eyre;

Falshode in felowshyp is my sworne brother.

By cloked colusyon, I say, and none other,

Comberaunce and trouble in Englande fyrst I began;

From that lorde to that lorde I rode and I ran,

And flatered them with fables fayre before theyr face,

And tolde all the myschyef I coude behynde theyr backe,

And made as I had knowen nothynge of the case;

I wolde begyn all myschyef, but I wolde bere no lacke: 730

Thus can I lerne you, syrs, to bere the deuyls sacke;

And yet, I trowe, some of you be better sped than I

Frendshyp to fayne, and thynke full lytherly.

Paynte to a purpose good countenaunce I can,

And craftely can I grope howe euery man is mynded;

My purpose is to spy and to poynte euery man;

My tonge is with fauell forked and tyned:

By Cloked Colusyon thus many one is begyled.

Eche man to hynder I gape and I gaspe;

My speche is all pleasure, but I stynge lyke a waspe: 740

I am neuer glad but whan I may do yll,

And neuer am I sory but whan that I se

I can not myne apyetyte accomplysshe and fulfyll

In hynderaunce of welthe and prosperyte;

I laughe at all shrewdenes, and lye at lyberte.

I muster, I medle amonge these grete estates,

I sowe sedycyous sedes of dyscorde and debates:

To flater and to flery is all my pretence

Amonge all suche persones as I well vnderstonde

Be lyght of byleue and hasty of credence; 750

I make them to startyll and sparkyll lyke a bronde,

I moue them, I mase them, I make them so fonde,

That they wyll here no man but the fyrst tale:

And so by these meanes I brewe moche bale.

Hic ingrediatur Courtly Abusyon cantando.

Court. Ab. Huffa, huffa, taunderum, taunderum, tayne, huffa, huffa!

Cl. Col. This was properly prated, syrs! what sayd a?

Court. Ab. Rutty bully, ioly rutterkyn, heyda!

Cl. Col. De que pays este vous?

Et faciat tanquam exiat beretrum cronice.[801]

Court. Ab. Decke your hofte and couer a lowce.

Cl. Col. Say vous chaunter Venter tre dawce? 760

Court. Ab. Wyda, wyda.

Howe sayst thou, man? am not I a ioly rutter?

Cl. Col. Gyue this gentylman rome, syrs, stonde vtter!

By God, syr, what nede all this waste?

What is this, a betell, or a batowe,[802] or a buskyn lacyd?

Court. Ab. What, wenyst thou that I knowe thé not, Clokyd Colusyon?

Cl. Col. And wenyst thou that I knowe not thé, cankard Abusyon?

Court. Ab. Cankard Jacke Hare, loke thou be not rusty;

For thou shalt well knowe I am nother durty nor dusty.

Cl. Col. Dusty! nay, syr, ye be all of the lusty, 770

Howe be it of scape thryfte your clokes smelleth musty:

But whether art thou walkynge in faythe vnfaynyd?

Court. Ab. Mary, with Magnyfycence I wolde be retaynyd.

Cl. Col. By the masse, for the cowrte thou art a mete man:

Thy slyppers they swap it, yet thou fotys it lyke a swanne.

Court. Ab. Ye, so I can deuyse my gere after the cowrtly maner.

Cl. Col. So thou arte personable to bere a prynces baner.

By Goddes fote,[803] and I dare well fyght, for I wyll not start.

Court. Ab. Nay, thou art a man good inough but for thy false hart.

Cl. Col. Well, and I be a coward, ther is mo than I. 780

Court. Ab. Ye, in faythe, a bolde man and a hardy.

Cl. Col. A bolde man in a bole of newe ale in cornys.

Court. Ab. Wyll ye se this gentylman is all in his skornys?

Cl. Col. But are ye not auysed to dwell where ye spake?

Court. Ab. I am of fewe wordys, I loue not to barke.

Beryst thou any rome, or cannyst thou do ought?

Cannyst thou helpe in fauer that I myght be brought?

Cl. Col. I may do somwhat, and more I thynke shall.

Here cometh in Crafty Conueyaunce, poyntyng with his fynger, and sayth, Hem, Colusyon!

Court. Ab. Cockys harte, who is yonde that for thé dothe call?

Cr. Con.[804] Nay, come at ones, for the armys of the dyce! 790

Court. Ab. Cockys armys, he hath callyd for thé twyce.

Cl. Col. By Cockys harte, and call shall agayne:

To come to me, I trowe, he shalbe fayne.

Court. Ab. What, is thy harte pryckyd with such a prowde pynne?

Cl. Col. Tushe, he that hath nede, man, let hym rynne.

Cr. Con. Nay, come away, man: thou playst the cayser.

Cl. Col.[805] By the masse, thou shalt byde my leyser.

Cr. Con. Abyde, syr, quod he! mary, so I do.

Court. Ab. He wyll come, man, when he may tende to.

Cr. Con. What the deuyll, who sent for thé? 800

Cl. Col. Here he is nowe, man; mayst thou not se?

Cr. Con. What the deuyll, man, what thou menyst?

Art thou so angry as thou semyst?

Court. Ab. What the deuyll, can ye agre no better?

Cr. Con. What the deuyll, where had we this ioly ietter?

Cl. Col. What sayst thou, man? why dost thou not supplye,

And desyre me thy good mayster to be?

Court. Ab. Spekest thou to me?

Cl. Col. Ye, so I tell thé.

Court. Ab. Cockes bones, I ne tell can 810

Whiche of you is the better man,

Or whiche of you can do most.

Cr. Con. In fayth, I rule moche of the rost.

Cl. Col. Rule the roste! ye, thou woldest[806]

As skante thou had no nede of me.

Cr. Con. Nede! yes, mary, I say not nay.

Court. Ab. Cockes ha[r]te, I trowe thou wylte make a fray.

Cr. Con. Nay, in good faythe, it is but the gyse.

Cl. Col. No, for, or we stryke, we wyll be aduysed twyse.

Court. Ab. What the deuyll, vse ye not to drawe no swordes? 820

Cr. Con. No, by my trouthe, but crake grete wordes.

Court. Ab. Why, is this the gyse nowe adayes?

Cl. Col. Ye, for surety, ofte peas is taken for frayes.

But, syr, I wyll haue this man with me.

Cr. Con. Conuey yourselfe fyrst, let se.

Cl. Col. Well, tarry here tyll I for you sende.

Cr. Con. Why, shall he be of your bende?

Cl. Col. Tary here: wote ye what I say?

Court. Ab. I waraunt you, I wyll not go away.

Cr. Con. By Saynt Mary, he is a tawle man. 830

Cl. Col. Ye, and do ryght good seruyce he can;

I knowe in hym no defaute

But that the horson is prowde and hawte.

And so they[807] go out of the place.

Court. Ab. Nay, purchace ye a pardon for the pose,

For pryde hath plucked thé by the nose,

As well as me: I wolde, and I durste,

But nowe I wyll not say the worste.

Courtly Abusyon alone in the place.

What nowe, let se,

Who loketh on me

Well rounde aboute, 840

Howe gay and howe stoute

That I can were

Courtly my gere:

My heyre bussheth

So plesauntly,

My robe russheth

So ruttyngly,

Me seme I flye,

I am so lyght,

To daunce delyght; 850

Properly drest,

All poynte deuyse,

My persone prest

Beyonde all syse

Of the newe gyse,

To russhe it oute

In euery route:

Beyonde measure

My sleue is wyde,

Al of pleasure, 860

My hose strayte tyde,

My buskyn wyde,

Ryche to beholde,

Gletterynge in golde.

Abusyon

Forsothe I hyght:

Confusyon

Shall on hym lyght,

By day or by nyght

That vseth me; 870

He can not thee.

A very fon,

A very asse,

Wyll take vpon

To compasse

That neuer was

Abusyd before;

A very pore

That so wyll do,

He doth abuse 880

Hym selfe to to,

He dothe mysse vse

Eche man take a fe[808]

To crake and prate;

I befoule his pate.

This newe fonne iet

From out of Fraunce

Fyrst I dyd set;

Made purueaunce

And suche ordenaunce, 890

That all men it founde

Through out Englonde:

All this nacyon

I set on fyre

In my facyon,

This theyr desyre,

This newe atyre;

This ladyes haue,

I it them gaue;

Spare for no coste; 900

And yet in dede

It is coste loste

Moche more than nede

For to excede

In suche aray:

Howe be it, I say,

A carlys sonne,

Brought vp of nought,

Wyth me wyll wonne

Whylyst he hath ought; 910

He wyll haue wrought

His gowne so wyde

That he may hyde

His dame and his syre

Within his slyue;

Spende all his hyre,

That men hym gyue;

Wherfore I preue,

A Tyborne checke

Shall breke his necke. 920

Here cometh in Fansy, craynge, Stow, stow!

All is out of harre,

And out of trace,

Ay warre and warre

In euery place.

But what the deuyll art thou,

That cryest, Stow, stow?

Fan. What, whom haue we here, Jenkyn Joly?

Nowe welcom, by the God holy.

Court. Ab. What, Fansy, my frende! howe doste thou fare?

Fan. By Cryst, as mery as a Marche hare. 930

Court. Ab. What the deuyll hast thou on thy fyste? an owle?

Fan. Nay, it is a farly fowle.

Court. Ab. Me thynke she frowneth and lokys sowre.

Fan. Torde, man, it is an hawke of the towre:

She is made for the malarde fat.

Court. Ab. Methynke she is well becked to catche a rat.

But nowe what tydynges can you tell, let se.

Fan. Mary, I am come for thé.

Court. Ab. For me?

Fan. Ye, for thé, so I say. 940

Court. Ab. Howe so? tell me, I thé pray.

Fan. Why, harde thou not of the fray,

That fell amonge vs this same day?

Court. Ab. No, mary, not yet.

Fan. What the deuyll, neuer a whyt?

Court. Ab. No, by the masse; what sholde I swere?

Fan. In faythe, Lyberte is nowe a lusty spere.

Court. Ab. Why, vnder whom was he abydynge?

Fan. Mary, Mesure had hym a whyle in gydynge,

Tyll, as the deuyll wolde, they fell a chydynge 950

With Crafty Conuayaunce.

Court. Ab. Ye, dyd they so?

Fan. Ye, by Goddes sacrament, and with other mo.

Court. Ab. What neded that, in the dyuyls date?

Fan. Yes, yes, he fell with me also at debate.

Court. Ab. With thé also? what, he playeth the state?

Fan. Ye, but I bade hym pyke out of the gate,

By Goddes body, so dyd I.

Court. Ab. By the masse, well done and boldely.

Fan. Holde thy pease, Measure shall frome vs walke. 960

Court. Ab. Why, is he crossed than with a chalke?

Fan. Crossed! ye, checked out of consayte.

Court. Ab. Howe so?

Fan. By God, by a praty slyght,

As here after thou shalte knowe more:

But I must tary here; go thou before.

Court. Ab. With whom shall I there mete?

Fan. Crafty Conueyaunce standeth in the strete,

Euen of purpose for the same.

Court. Ab. Ye, but what shall I call my name? 970

Fan. Cockes harte, tourne thé, let me se thyne aray:

Cockes bones, this is all of Johnn de gay.

Court. Ab. So I am poynted after my consayte.

Fan. Mary, thou iettes it of hyght.

Court. Ab. Ye, but of my name let vs be wyse.

Fan. Mary, Lusty Pleasure, by myne aduyse,

To name thyselfe, come of, it were done.

Court. Ab. Farewell, my frende.

Fan. Adue, tyll sone.[809]

Stowe, byrde, stowe, stowe! 980

It is best I fede my hawke now.

There is many euyll faueryd, and thou be foule;

Eche thynge is fayre when it is yonge: all hayle, owle!

Lo, this is

My fansy, I wys:

Nowe Cryst it blysse!

It is, by Jesse,

A byrde full swete,

For me full mete:

She is furred for the hete 990

All to the fete;

Her browys bent,

Her eyen glent:

Frome Tyne to Trent,

From Stroude to Kent,

A man shall fynde

Many of her kynde,

Howe standeth the wynde

Before or behynde:

Barbyd lyke a nonne, 1000

For burnynge of the sonne;

Her fethers donne;

Well faueryd bonne.

Nowe, let me se about,

In all this rowte

Yf I can fynde out

So semely a snowte

Amonge this prese:

Euen a hole mese—

Pease, man, pease! 1010

I rede, we sease.

So farly fayre as it lokys,

And her becke so comely crokys,

Her naylys sharpe as tenter hokys!

I haue not kept her yet thre wokys,

And howe styll she dothe syt!

Teuyt, teuyt, where is my wyt?

The deuyll spede whyt!

That was before, I set behynde;

Nowe to curteys, forthwith vnkynde; 1020

Somtyme to sober, somtyme to sadde,

Somtyme to mery, somtyme to madde;

Somtyme I syt as I were solempe prowde;

Somtyme I laughe ouer lowde;

Somtyme I wepe for a gew gaw;

Somtyme I laughe at waggynge of a straw;

With a pere my loue you may wynne,

And ye may lese it for a pynne.

I haue a thynge for to say,

And I may tende therto for play; 1030

But in faythe I am so occupyed

On this halfe and on euery syde,

That I wote not where I may rest.

Fyrst to tell you what were best,

Frantyke Fansy seruyce I hyght;

My wyttys be weke, my braynys are lyght:

For it is I that other whyle

Plucke downe lede, and theke with tyle;

Nowe I wyll this, and nowe I wyll that;

Make a wyndmyll of a mat; 1040

Nowe I wolde, and I wyst what;

Where is my cappe? I haue lost my hat;

And within an houre after,

Plucke downe an house, and set vp a rafter;

Hyder and thyder, I wote not whyder;

Do and vndo, bothe togyder;

Of a spyndell I wyll make a sparre;

All that I make, forthwith I marre;

I blunder, I bluster, I blowe, and I blother;

I make on the one day, and I marre on the other; 1050

Bysy, bysy, and euer bysy,

I daunce vp and downe tyll I am dyssy;

I can fynde fantasyes where none is;

I wyll not haue it so, I wyll haue it this.

Hic ingrediatur Foly, quatiendo crema[810] et faciendo multum, feriendo tabulas et similia.

Fol. Maysters, Cryst saue euerychone!

What, Fansy, arte thou here alone?

Fan. What, fonnysshe Foly! I befole thy face.

Fol. What, frantyke Fansy in a foles case!

What is this, an owle or a glede?

By my trouthe, she hathe a grete hede. 1060

Fan. Tusshe, thy lyppes hange in thyne eye:[811]

It is a Frenche butterflye.

Fol. By my trouthe, I trowe well;

But she is lesse a grete dele

Than a butterflye of our lande.

Fan. What pylde curre ledest thou in thy hande?

Fol. A pylde curre!

Fan. Ye so, I tell thé, a pylde curre.

Fol. Yet I solde his skynne to Mackemurre,

In the stede of a budge furre. 1070

Fan. What, fleyest thou his skynne euery yere?

Fol. Yes, in faythe, I thanke God I may here.

Fan. What, thou wylte coughe me a dawe for forty pens?

Fol. Mary, syr, Cokermowthe is a good way hens.

Fan. What? of Cokermowth spake I no worde.

Fol. By my faythe, syr, the frubyssher hath my sworde.

Fan. A, I trowe, ye shall coughe me a fole.

Fol. In faythe, trouthe ye say, we wente togyder to scole.

Fan. Ye, but I can somwhat more of the letter.

Fol. I wyll not gyue an halfepeny for to chose the better. 1080

Fan. But, broder Foly, I wonder moche of one thynge,

That thou so hye fro me doth sprynge,

And I so lytell alway styll.

Fol. By God, I can tell thé, and I wyll.

Thou art so feble fantastycall,

And so braynsyke therwithall,

And thy wyt wanderynge here and there,

That thou cannyst not growe out of thy boyes gere;

And as for me, I take but one folysshe way,

And therfore I growe more on one day 1090

Than thou can in yerys seuen.

Fan. In faythe, trouth thou sayst nowe, by God of heuen!

For so with fantasyes my wyt dothe flete,

That wysdome and I shall seldome mete.

Nowe, of good felowshyp, let me by thy dogge.[812]

Fol. Cockys harte, thou lyest, I am no hogge.[813]

Fan. Here is no man that callyd thé hogge nor swyne.

Fol. In faythe, man, my brayne is as good as thyne.

Fan. The deuyls torde for thy brayne!

Fol. By my syers soule, I fele no rayne. 1100

Fan. By the masse, I holde thé madde.

Fol. Mary, I knewe thé when thou waste a ladde.

Fan. Cockys bonys, herde ye euer syke another?

Fol. Ye, a fole the tone, and a fole the tother.

Fan. Nay, but wotest thou what I do say?

Fol. Why, sayst thou that I was here yesterday?

Fan. Cockys armys, this is a warke, I trowe.

Fol. What, callyst thou me a donnyshe crowe?

Fan. Nowe, in good faythe, thou art a fonde gest.

Fol. Ye, bere me this strawe to a dawys nest. 1110

Fan. What, wenyst thou that I were so folysshe and so fonde?

Fol. In faythe, ellys is there none in all Englonde.

Fan. Yet for my fansy sake, I say,

Let me haue thy dogge, what soeuer I pay.

Fol. Thou shalte haue my purse, and I wyll haue thyne.

Fan. By my trouth, there is myne.

Fol. Nowe, by my trouth, man, take, there is myne;[814]

And I beshrowe hym that hath the worse.

Fan. Torde, I say, what haue I do?

Here is nothynge but the bockyll of a sho, 1120

And in my purse was twenty marke.

Fol. Ha, ha, ha! herke, syrs, harke!

For all that my name hyght Foly,

By the masse, yet art thou more fole than I.

Fan. Yet gyue me thy dogge, and I am content;

And thou shalte haue my hauke to a botchment.

Fol. That euer thou thryue, God it forfende!

For Goddes cope thou wyll spende.

Nowe take thou my dogge, and gyue me thy fowle.[815]

Fan. Hay, chysshe, come hyder! 1130

Fol. Nay, torde, take hym be tyme.

Fan. What callest thou thy dogge?

Fol. Tusshe, his name is Gryme.

Fan. Come, Gryme, come, Gryme! it is my praty dogges.

Fol. In faythe, there is not a better dogge for hogges,

Not from Anwyke vnto Aungey.

Fan. Ye, but trowest thou that he be not maungey?

Fol. No, by my trouthe, it is but the scurfe and the scabbe.

Fan. What, he hathe ben hurte with a stabbe?

Fol. Nay, in faythe, it was but a strype 1140

That the horson had for etynge of a trype.

Fan. Where the deuyll gate he all these hurtes?

Fol. By God, for snatchynge of puddynges and wortes.

Fan. What, then he is some good poore mannes curre?

Fol. Ye, but he wyll in at euery mannes dore.

Fan. Nowe thou hast done me a pleasure grete.

Fol. In faythe, I wolde thou had a marmosete.

Fan. Cockes harte, I loue suche iapes.

Fol. Ye, for all thy mynde is on owles and apes.

But I haue thy pultre, and thou hast my catell. 1150

Fan. Ye, but thryfte and we haue made a batell.

Fol. Remembrest thou not the iapes and the toyes—

Fan. What, that we vsed whan we were boyes?

Fol. Ye, by the rode, euen the same.

Fan. Yes, yes, I am yet as full of game

As euer I was, and as full of tryfyls,

Nil, nihilum, nihil, anglice nyfyls.

Fol. What canest thou all this Latyn[816] yet,

And hath so mased a wandrynge wyt?

Fan. Tushe, man, I kepe some Latyn in store. 1160

Fol. By Cockes harte, I wene thou hast no more.

Fan. No? yes, in faythe, I can versyfy.

Fol. Then, I pray thé hartely,

Make a verse of my butterfly;

It forseth not of the reason, so it kepe ryme.

Fan. But wylte thou make another on Gryme?

Fol. Nay, in fayth, fyrst let me here thyne.

Fan. Mary, as for that, thou shalte sone here myne:

Est snavi[817] snago with a shrewde face vilis imago.

Fol. Grimbaldus gredy, snatche a puddyng tyl the rost be redy. 1170

Fan. By the harte of God, well done!

Fol. Ye, so redely and so sone!

Here cometh in Crafty Conueyaunce.

Cr. Con. What, Fansy! Let me se who is the tother.

Fan. By God, syr, Foly, myne owne sworne brother.

Cr. Con. Cockys bonys, it is a farle freke:

Can he play well at the hoddypeke?

Fan. Tell by thy trouth what sport can thou make.

Fol. A, holde thy peas; I haue the tothe ake.

Cr. Con. The tothe ake! lo, a torde ye haue.

Fol. Ye, thou haste the four quarters of a knaue. 1180

Cr. Con. Wotyst thou, I say, to whom thou spekys?

Fan. Nay, by Cockys harte, he ne reckys,

For he wyll speke to Magnyfycence thus.

Cr. Con. Cockys armys, a mete man for vs.

Fol. What, wolde ye haue mo folys, and are so many?

Fan. Nay, offer hym a counter in stede of a peny.

Cr. Con. Why, thynkys thou he can no better skyll?

Fol. In fayth, I can make you bothe folys, and I wyll.

Cr. Con. What haste thou on thy fyst? a kesteryll?[818]

Fol. Nay, I wys, fole, it is a doteryll. 1190

Cr. Con. In a cote thou can play well the dyser.

Fol. Ye, but thou can play the fole without a vyser.

Fan. Howe rode he by you? howe put he to you?[819]

Cr. Con. Mary, as thou sayst, he gaue me a blurre.

But where gatte thou that mangey curre?

Fan. Mary, it was his, and nowe it is myne.

Cr. Con. And was it his, and nowe it is thyne?

Thou must haue thy fansy and thy wyll,

But yet thou shalt holde me a fole styll.

Fol. Why, wenyst thou that I cannot make thé play the fon? 1200

Fan. Yes, by my faythe, good Syr Johnn.

Cr. Con. For you bothe it were inough.

Fol. Why, wenyst thou that I were as moche a fole as thou?

Fan. Nay, nay, thou shalte fynde hym another maner of man.

Fol. In faythe, I can do mastryes, so I can.

Cr. Con. What canest thou do but play cocke wat?

Fan. Yes,[820] yes, he wyll make thé ete a gnat.

Fol. Yes, yes, by my trouth, I holde thé a grote,

That I shall laughe thé out of thy cote.

Cr. Con. Than wyll I say that thou haste no pere. 1210

Fan. Nowe, by the rode, and he wyll go nere.

Fol. Hem, Fansy! regardes, voyes.

Here Foly maketh semblaunt to take a lowse from Crafty Conueyaunce showlder.

Fan. What hast thou founde there?

Fol. By God, a lowse.

Cr. Con. By Cockes harte, I trowe thou lyste.

Fol. By the masse, a Spaynysshe moght with a gray lyste.

Fan. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Cr. Con. Cockes armes, it is not so, I trowe.

Here Crafty Conu[ey]aunce putteth of his gowne.

Fol. Put on thy gowne agayne, for nowe thou hast lost.[821]

Fan. Lo, Johnn a Bonam, where is thy brayne? 1220

Nowe put on, fole, thy cote agayne.

Fol. Gyue me my grote, for thou hast lost.

Here Foly maketh semblaunt to take money of Crafty Conueyaunce, saynge to hym,

Shyt thy purse, dawe, and do no cost.

Fan. Nowe hast thou not a prowde mocke and a starke?

Cr. Con. With, yes, by the rode of Wodstocke Parke.

Fan. Nay, I tell thé, he maketh no dowtes

To tourne a fole out of his clowtes.

Cr. Con. And for a fole a man wolde hym take.

Fol. Nay, it is I that foles can make;

For, be he cayser or be he kynge, 1230

To felowshyp with Foly I can hym brynge.

Fan. Nay, wylte thou here nowe of his scoles,

And what maner of people he maketh foles?

Cr. Con. Ye, let vs here a worde or twayne.

Fol. Syr, of my maner I shall tell you the playne.

Fyrst I lay before them my bybyll,

And teche them howe they sholde syt ydyll,

To pyke theyr fyngers all the day longe;

So in theyr eyre I synge them a songe,

And make them so longe to muse, 1240

That some of them renneth strayght to the stuse;

To thefte and bryboury I make some fall,

And pyke a locke and clyme a wall;

And where I spy a nysot gay,

That wyll syt ydyll all the day,

And can not set herselfe to warke,

I kyndell in her suche a lyther sparke,

That rubbed she must be on the gall

Bytwene the tappet[822] and the wall.

Cr. Con. What, horson, arte thou suche a one? 1250

Fan. Nay, beyonde all other set hym alone.

Cr. Con. Hast thou ony more? let se, procede.

Fol. Ye, by God, syr, for a nede,

I haue another maner of sorte,

That I laugh at for my dysporte;

And those be they that come vp of nought,

As some be not ferre, and yf it were well sought:

Suche dawys, what soeuer they be,

That be set in auctorite,

Anone he waxyth so hy and prowde, 1260

He frownyth fyersly, brymly browde,

The knaue wolde make it koy, and he cowde;

All that he dothe, muste be alowde;

And, This is not well done, syr, take hede;

And maketh hym besy where is no nede:

He dawnsys so longe, hey, troly loly,

That euery man lawghyth at his foly.

Cr. Con. By the good Lorde, truthe he sayth.

Fan. Thynkyst thou not so, by thy fayth?

Cr. Con. Thynke I not so, quod he! ellys haue I shame, 1270

For I knowe dyuerse that vseth the same.

Fol. But nowe, forsothe, man, it maketh no mater;

For they that wyll so bysely smater,

So helpe me God, man, euer at the length

I make hym[823] lese moche of theyr strength;

For with foly so do I them lede,

That wyt he wantyth when he hath moste nede.

Fan. Forsothe, tell on: hast thou any mo?[824]

Fol. Yes, I shall tell you, or I go,

Of dyuerse mo that hauntyth my scolys. 1280

Cr. Con. All men beware of suche folys!

Fol. There be two lyther, rude and ranke,

Symkyn Tytyuell and Pers Pykthanke;

Theys lythers I lerne them for to lere

What he sayth and she sayth to lay good ere,

And tell to his sufferayne euery whyt,

And then he is moche made of for his wyt;[825]

And, be the mater yll more or lesse,

He wyll make it mykyll worse than it is:

But all that he dothe, and yf he reken well, 1290

It is but foly euery dell.

Fan. Are not his wordys cursydly cowchyd?

Cr. Con. By God, there be some that be shroudly towchyd:

But, I say, let se and yf thou haue any more.

Fol. I haue an hole armory of suche haburdashe in store;

For there be other that foly dothe vse,

That folowe fonde fantasyes and vertu refuse.

Fan. Nay, that is my parte that thou spekest of nowe.

Fol. So is all the remenaunt, I make God auowe;

For thou fourmest suche fantasyes in theyr mynde, 1300

That euery man almost groweth out of kynde.

Cr. Con. By the masse, I am glad that I came hyder,

To here you two rutters dyspute togyder.

Fan. Nay, but Fansy must be eyther fyrst or last.

Fol. But whan Foly cometh, all is past.

Fan. I wote not whether it cometh of thé or of me,

But all is foly that I can se.

Cr. Con. Mary, syr, ye may swere it on a boke.

Fol. Ye, tourne ouer the lefe, rede there and loke,

Howe frantyke Fansy fyrst of all 1310

Maketh man and woman in foly to fall.

Cr. Con. A, syr, a, a! howe by that!

Fan. A peryllous thynge, to cast a cat

Vpon a naked man, and yf she scrat.

Fol. So how, I say, the hare is squat!

For, frantyke Fansy, thou makest men madde;

And I, Foly, bryngeth them to qui fuit gadde,

With qui fuit brayne seke I haue them brought

From qui fuit aliquid to shyre shakynge nought.

Cr. Con. Well argued and surely on bothe sydes: 1320

But for thé, Fansy, Magnyfycence abydes.

Fan. Why, shall I not haue Foly with me also?

Cr. Con. Yes, perde, man, whether that ye ryde or go:

Yet for his name we must fynde a slyght.[826]

Fan. By the masse, he shall hyght Consayte.

Cr. Con. Not a better name vnder the sonne:

With Magnyfycence thou shalte wonne.

Fol. God haue mercy, good godfather.

Cr. Con. Yet I wolde that ye had gone rather;

For, as sone as you come in Magnyfycence syght, 1330

All mesure and good rule is gone quyte.

Fan. And shall we haue lyberte to do what we wyll?

Cr. Con. Ryot at lyberte russheth it out styll.

Fol. Ye, but tell me one thynge.

Cr. Con. What is that?

Fol. Who is mayster of the masshe fat?

Fan. Ye, for he hathe a full dry soule.

Cr. Con. Cockes armes, thou shalte kepe the brewhouse boule.

Fol. But may I drynke therof whylest that I stare?

Cr. Con. When mesure is gone, what nedest thou spare? 1340

Whan mesure is gone, we may slee care.

Fol. Nowe then goo we hens, away the mare![827]

Crafty Conueyaunce alone in the place.

Cr. Con. It is wonder to se the worlde aboute,

To se what foly is vsed in euery place;

Foly hath a rome, I say, in euery route,

To put, where he lyst, Foly hath fre chace;

Foly and Fansy all where, euery man dothe face and brace;

Foly fotyth it properly, Fansy ledyth the dawnce;

And next come I after, Crafty Conueyaunce.

Who so to me gyueth good aduertence, 1350

Shall se many thyngys donne craftely:

By me conueyed is wanton insolence,

Pryuy poyntmentys conueyed so properly,

For many tymes moche kyndnesse is denyed

For drede that we dare not ofte lest we be spyed;

By me is conueyed mykyll praty ware,

Somtyme, I say, behynde the dore for nede;

I haue an hoby can make larkys to dare;

I knyt togyther many a broken threde.

It is great almesse the hungre[828] to fede, 1360

To clothe the nakyd where is lackynge a smocke,

Trymme at her tayle, or a man can turne a socke:

What howe, be ye mery! was it not well conueyed?

As oft as ye lyst, so honeste be sauyd;

Alas, dere harte, loke that we be not perseyuyd!

Without crafte nothynge is well behauyd;

Though I shewe you curtesy, say not that I craue,[829]

Yet conuey it craftely, and hardely spare not for me,

So that there knowe no man but I and she.

Thefte also and pety brybery 1370

Without me be full oft aspyed;

My inwyt delynge there can no man dyscry,

Conuey it be crafte, lyft and lay asyde:

Full moche flatery and falsehode I hyde,

And by crafty conueyaunce I wyll, and I can,

Saue a stronge thefe and hange a trew man.

But some man wolde conuey, and can not skyll,

As malypert tauernars that checke with theyr betters,

Theyr conueyaunce weltyth the worke all by wyll;

And some wyll take vpon them to conterfet letters, 1380

And therwithall conuey hymselfe into a payre of fetters;

And some wyll conuey by the pretence of sadnesse,

Tyll all theyr conueyaunce is turnyd into madnesse.

Crafty conueyaunce is no chyldys game:

By crafty conueyaunce many one is brought vp of nought;

Crafty Conueyaunce can cloke hymselfe frome shame,

For by crafty conueyaunce wonderful thynges are wrought:

By conuayaunce crafty I haue brought

Vnto Magnyfyce[nce] a full vngracyous sorte,

For all hokes vnhappy to me haue resorte. 1390

Here cometh in Magnyfycence with Lyberte and Felycyte.

Magn. Trust me, Lyberte, it greueth me ryght sore

To se you thus ruled and stande in suche awe.

Lyb. Syr, as by my wyll, it shall be so no more.

Fel. Yet lyberte without rule is not worth a strawe.

Magn. Tushe, holde your peas, ye speke lyke a dawe;

Ye shall be occupyed, Welthe, at my wyll.

Cr. Con. All that ye say, syr, is reason and skyll.

Magn. Mayster Suruayour, where haue ye ben so longe?

Remembre ye not how my lyberte by mesure ruled was?

Cr. Con. In good faythe, syr, me semeth he had the more wronge. 1400

Lyb. Mary, syr, so dyd he excede and passe,

They droue me to lernynge lyke a dull asse.

Fel. It is good yet that lyberte be ruled by reason.

Magn. Tushe, holde your peas, ye speke out of season:

Yourselfe shall be ruled by lyberte and largesse.

Fel. I am content, so it in measure be.

Lyb. Must mesure, in the mares name, you furnysshe and dresse?

Magn. Nay, nay, not so, my frende Felycyte.

Cr. Con. Not, and your grace wolde be ruled by me.

Lyb. Nay, he shall be ruled euen as I lyst. 1410

Fel. Yet it is good to beware of Had I wyst.

Magn. Syr, by lyberte and largesse I wyll that ye shall

Be gouerned and gyded: wote ye what I say?

Mayster Suruayour, Largesse to me call.

Cr. Con. It shall be done.

Magn. Ye, but byd hym come away

At ones, and let hym not tary all day.

Here goth out Crafty Conuayaunce.

Fel. Yet it is good wysdome to worke wysely by welth.

Lyb. Holde thy tonge, and thou loue thy helth.

Magn. What, wyll ye waste wynde, and prate thus in vayne? 1420

Ye haue eten sauce, I trowe, at the Taylers Hall.

Lyb. Be not to bolde, my frende; I counsell you, bere a brayne.

Magn. And what so we say, holde you content withall.

Fel. Syr, yet without sapyence your substaunce may be smal;

For, where is no mesure, howe may worshyp endure?

Here cometh in Fansy.

Fan. Syr, I am here at your pleasure;

Your grace sent for me, I wene; what is your wyll?

Magn. Come hyther, Largesse, take here Felycyte.

Fan. Why, wene you that I can kepe hym longe styll?

Magn. To rule as ye lyst, lo, here is Lyberte! 1430

Lyb. I am here redy.

Fan. What, shall we haue welth at our gydynge to rule as we lyst?

Then fare well thryfte, by hym that crosse kyst!

Fel. I truste your grace wyll be agreabyll

That I shall suffer none impechment

By theyr demenaunce nor losse repryuable.

Magn. Syr, ye shall folowe myne appetyte and intent.

Fel. So it be by mesure I am ryght well content.

Fan. What, all by mesure, good syr, and none excesse?

Lyb. Why, welth hath made many a man braynlesse. 1440

Fel. That was by the menys of to moche lyberte.

Magn. What can ye agree thus and appose?

Fel. Syr, as I say, there was no faute in me.

Lyb. Ye, of Jackeathrommys bybyll can ye make a glose?

Fan. Sore sayde, I tell you, and well to the purpose:

What sholde a man do with you, loke you vnder kay.[830]

Fel. I say, it is foly to gyue all welth away.

Lyb. Whether sholde welth be rulyd by lyberte,

Or lyberte by welth? let se, tell me that.

Fel. Syr, as me semeth, ye sholde be rulyd by me. 1450

Magn. What nede you with hym thus prate and chat?

Fan. Shewe vs your mynde then, howe to do and what.

Magn. I say, that I wyll ye haue hym in gydynge.

Lyb. Mayster Felycyte, let be your chydynge,

And so as ye se it wyll be no better,

Take it in worthe suche as ye fynde.

Fan. What the deuyll, man, your name shalbe the greter,

For welth without largesse is all out of kynde.

Lyb. And welth is nought worthe, yf lyberte be behynde.

Magn. Nowe holde ye content, for there is none other shyfte. 1460

Fel. Than waste must be welcome, and fare well thryfte!

Magn. Take of his substaunce a sure inuentory,

And get thou[831] home togyther; for Lyberte shall byde,

And wayte vpon me.

Lyb. And yet for a memory,

Make indentures howe ye and I shal gyde.

Fan. I can do nothynge but he stonde besyde.

Lyb. Syr, we can do nothynge the one without the other.

Magn. Well, get you hens than, and sende me some other.

Fan. Whom? lusty Pleasure, or mery Consayte? 1470

Magn. Nay, fyrst lusty Pleasure is my desyre to haue,

And let the other another[832] awayte,

Howe be it that fonde felowe is a mery knaue;

But loke that ye occupye the auctoryte that I you gaue.

[Here goeth out Felycyte, Lyberte, and Fansy.

Magnyfycence alone in the place.

For nowe,[833] syrs, I am lyke as a prynce sholde be;

I haue welth at wyll, largesse and lyberte:

Fortune to her lawys can not abandune me,

But I shall of Fortune rule the reyne;

I fere nothynge Fortunes perplexyte;

All honour to me must nedys stowpe and lene; 1480

I synge of two partys without a mene;

I haue wynde and wether ouer all to sayle,

No stormy rage agaynst me can peruayle.

Alexander, of Macedony kynge,

That all the oryent had in subieccyon,

Though al his conquestys were brought to rekenynge,

Myght seme ryght wel vnder my proteccyon

To rayne, for all his marcyall affeccyon;

For I am prynce perlesse prouyd of porte,

Bathyd with blysse, embracyd with comforte. 1490

Syrus, that soleme syar of Babylon,

That Israell releysyd of theyr captyuyte,

For al his pompe, for all his ryall trone,

He may not be comparyd vnto me.

I am the dyamounde dowtlesse of dygnyte:

Surely it is I that all may saue and spyll;

No man so hardy to worke agaynst my wyll.

Porcenya, the prowde prouoste of Turky lande,

That ratyd the Romaynes and made them yll rest,

Nor Cesar July, that no man myght withstande, 1500

Were neuer halfe so rychely as I am drest:

No, that I assure you; loke who was the best.

I reyne in my robys, I rule as me lyst,

I dryue downe th[e]se dastardys with a dynt of my fyste.

Of Cato the counte acountyd the cane,

Daryus, the doughty cheftayn of Perse,

I set not by the prowdest of them a prane,

Ne by non other that any man can rehersse.

I folowe in felycyte without reue[r]sse,

I drede no daunger, I dawnce all in delyte; 1510

My name is Magnyfycence, man most of myght.

Hercules the herdy, with his stobburne clobbyd mase,

That made Cerberus to cache, the cur dogge of hell,

And Thesius, that[834] prowde was Pluto to face,

It wolde not become them with me for to mell:

For of all barones bolde I bere the bell,

Of all doughty I am doughtyest duke, as I deme;

To me all prynces to lowte man be sene.[835]

Cherlemayne, that mantenyd the nobles of Fraunce,

Arthur of Albyan, for all his brymme berde, 1520

Nor Basyan the bolde, for all his brybaunce,

Nor Alerycus, that rulyd the Gothyaunce by swerd,

Nor no man on molde can make me aferd.

What man is so maysyd with me that dare mete,

I shall flappe hym as a fole to fall at my fete.

Galba, whom his galantys garde for agaspe,

Nor Nero, that nother set by God nor man,

Nor Vaspasyan, that bare in his nose a waspe,

Nor Hanyball agayne Rome gates that ranne,

Nor yet Cypyo,[836] that noble Cartage wanne, 1530

Nor none so hardy of them with me that durste crake,

But I shall frounce them on the foretop, and gar them to quake.

Here cometh in Courtly Abusyon, doynge reuerence and courtesy.

Court. Ab. At your commaundement, syr, wyth all dew reuerence.

Magn. Welcom, Pleasure, to our magnyfycence.

Court. Ab. Plesyth it your grace to shewe what I do shall?

Magn. Let vs here of your pleasure to passe the tyme withall.

Court. Ab. Syr, then with the fauour of your benynge sufferaunce

To shewe you my mynde myselfe I wyll auaunce,

If it lyke your grace to take it in degre.

Magn. Yes, syr, so good man in you I se, 1540

And in your delynge so good assuraunce,

That we delyte gretly in your dalyaunce.

Court. Ab. A, syr, your grace me dothe extole and rayse,

And ferre beyond my merytys ye me commende and prayse;

Howe be it, I wolde be ryght gladde, I you assure,

Any thynge to do that myght be to your pleasure.

Magn. As I be saued, with pleasure I am supprysyd

Of your langage, it is so well deuysed;

Pullyshyd and fresshe is your ornacy.

Court. Ab. A, I wolde to God that I were halfe so crafty, 1550

Or in electe vtteraunce halfe so eloquent,

As that I myght your noble grace content!

Magn. Truste me, with you I am hyghly pleasyd,

For in my fauour I haue you feffyd and seasyd.

He is not lyuynge your maners can amend;

Mary, your speche is as pleasant as though it were pend;

To here your comon, it is my hygh comforte;

Poynt deuyse all pleasure is your porte.

Court. Ab. Syr, I am the better of your noble reporte;

But, of your pacyence vnder the supporte, 1560

If it wolde lyke you to here my pore mynde—

Magn. Speke, I beseche thé, leue nothynge behynde.

Court. Ab. So as ye be a prynce of great myght,

It is semynge your pleasure ye delyte,

And to aqueynte you with carnall delectacyon,

And to fall in aquayntaunce with euery newe facyon;

And quyckely your appetytes to sharpe and adresse,

To fasten your fansy vpon a fayre maystresse,

That quyckly is enuyued with rudyes of the rose,

Inpurtured with fetures after your purpose, 1570

The streynes of her vaynes as asure inde blewe,

Enbudded with beautye and colour fresshe of hewe,

As lyly whyte to loke vpon her leyre,[837]

Her eyen relucent as carbuncle so clere,

Her mouthe enbawmed, dylectable and mery,

Her lusty lyppes ruddy as the chery:

Howe lyke you? ye lacke, syr, suche a lusty lasse.

Magn. A, that were a baby to brace and to basse!

I wolde I had, by hym that hell dyd harowe,

With me in kepynge suche a Phylyp sparowe! 1580

I wolde hauke whylest my hede dyd warke,

So I myght hobby for suche a lusty larke.

These wordes in myne eyre they be so lustely spoken,

That on suche a female my flesshe wolde be wroken;

They towche me so thorowly, and tykyll my consayte,

That weryed I wolde be on suche a bayte:

A, Cockes armes, where myght suche one be founde?

Court. Ab. Wyll ye spende ony money?

Magn. Ye, a thousande pounde.

Court. Ab. Nay, nay, for lesse I waraunt you to be sped, 1590

And brought home, and layde in your bed.

Magn. Wolde money, trowest thou, make suche one to the call?

Court. Ab. Money maketh marchauntes, I tell you, over all.

Magn. Why, wyl a maystres be wonne for money and for golde?

Court. Ab. Why, was not for money Troy bothe bought and solde?

Full many a stronge cyte and towne hath ben wonne

By the meanes of money without ony gonne.

A maystres, I tell you, is but a small thynge;

A goodly rybon, or a golde rynge,

May wynne with a sawte the fortresse of the holde; 1600

But one thynge I warne you, prece forth and be bolde.

Magn. Ye, but some be full koy and passynge harde harted.

Court. Ab. But, blessyd be our Lorde, they wyll be sone conuerted.

Magn. Why, wyll they then be intreted, the most and the lest?

Court. Ab. Ye, for omnis mulier meretrix, si celari potest.

Magn. A, I haue spyed ye can moche broken sorowe.

Court. Ab. I coude holde you with suche talke hens tyll to morowe;

But yf it lyke your grace, more at large

Me to permyt my mynde to dyscharge,

I wolde yet shewe you further of my consayte. 1610

Magn. Let se what ye say, shewe it strayte.

Court. Ab. Wysely let these wordes in your mynde be wayed:

By waywarde wylfulnes let eche thynge be conuayed;

What so euer ye do, folowe your owne wyll;

Be it reason or none, it shall not gretely skyll;

Be it ryght or wronge, by the aduyse of me,

Take your pleasure and vse free lyberte;

And yf you se ony thynge agaynst your mynde,

Then some occacyon of[838] quarell ye must fynde,

And frowne it and face it, as thoughe ye wolde fyght, 1620

Frete yourselfe for anger and for dyspyte;

Here no man, what so euer they say,

But do as ye lyst, and take your owne way.

Magn. Thy wordes and my mynde odly well accorde.

Court. Ab. What sholde ye do elles? are not you a lorde?

Let your lust and lykynge stande for a lawe;

Be wrastynge and wrythynge, and away drawe.

And ye se a man that with hym ye be not pleased,

And that your mynde can not well be eased,

As yf a man fortune to touche you on the quyke, 1630

Then feyne yourselfe dyseased and make yourselfe seke:

To styre vp your stomake you must you forge,

Call for a candell[839] and cast vp your gorge;

With, Cockes armes, rest shall I none haue

Tyll I be reuenged on that horson knaue!

A, howe my stomake wambleth! I am all in a swete!

Is there no horson that knaue that wyll bete?

Magn. By Cockes woundes, a wonder felowe thou arte;

For ofte tymes suche a wamblynge goth ouer my harte;

Yet I am not harte seke, but that me lyst 1640

For myrth I haue hym coryed, beten, and blyst,

Hym that I loued not and made hym to loute,

I am forthwith as hole as a troute;

For suche abusyon I vse nowe and than.

Court. Ab. It is none abusyon, syr, in a noble man,

It is a pryncely pleasure and a lordly mynde;

Suche lustes at large may not be lefte behynde.

Here cometh in Cloked Colusyon with Mesure.

Cl. Col. Stande styll here, and ye shall se

That for your sake I wyll fall on my kne.

Court. Ab. Syr, Sober Sadnesse cometh, wherfore it be? 1650

Magn. Stande vp, syr, ye are welcom to me.

Cl. Col. Please it your grace, at the contemplacyon

Of my pore instance and supplycacyon,

Tenderly to consyder in your aduertence,

Of our blessyd Lorde, syr, at the reuerence,

Remembre the good seruyce that Mesure hath you done,

And that ye wyll not cast hym away so sone.

Magn. My frende, as touchynge to this your mocyon,

I may say to you I haue but small deuocyon;

Howe be it, at your instaunce I wyll the rather 1660

Do as moche as for myne owne father.

Cl. Col. Nay, syr, that affeccyon ought to be reserued,

For of your grace I haue it nought deserued;

But yf it lyke you that I myght rowne in your eyre,

To shewe you my mynde I wolde haue the lesse fere.

Magn. Stande a lytell abacke, syr, and let hym come hyder.

Court. Ab. With a good wyll, syr, God spede you bothe togyder.

Cl. Col. Syr, so it is, this man is here by,

That for hym to laboure he hath prayde me hartely;

Notwithstandynge to you be it sayde, 1670

To trust in me he is but dyssayued;

For, so helpe me God, for you he is not mete:

I speke the softlyer, because he sholde not wete.

Magn. Come hyder, Pleasure, you shall here myne entent:

Mesure, ye knowe wel, with hym I can not be content,

And surely, as I am nowe aduysed,

I wyll haue hym rehayted and dyspysed.

Howe say ye, syrs? herein what is best?

Court. Ab. By myne aduyse with you in fayth he shall not rest.

Cl. Col. Yet, syr, reserued your better aduysement, 1680

It were better he spake with you or he wente,

That he knowe not but that I haue supplyed

All that I can his matter for to spede.

Magn. Nowe, by your trouthe, gaue he you not a brybe?

Cl. Col. Yes, with his hande I made hym to subscrybe

A byll of recorde for an annuall rent.

Court. Ab. But for all that he is lyke to haue a glent.

Cl. Col. Ye, by my trouthe, I shall waraunt you for me,

And he go to the deu[y]ll, so that I may haue my fee,

What care I? 1690

Magn. By the masse, well sayd.

Court. Ab. What force ye, so that ye[840] be payde?

Cl. Col. But yet, lo, I wolde, or that he wente,

Lest that he thought that his money were euyll spente,

That ye[841] wolde loke on hym, thoughe it were not longe.

Magn. Well cannest thou helpe a preest to synge a songe.

Cl. Col. So it is all the maner nowe a dayes,

For to vse suche haftynge and crafty wayes.

Court. Ab. He telleth you trouth, syr, as I you ensure.

Magn. Well, for thy sake the better I may endure 1700

That he come hyder, and to gyue hym a loke

That he shall lyke the worse all this woke.

Cl. Col. I care not howe sone he be refused,

So that I may craftely be excused.

Court. Ab. Where is he?

Cl. Col. Mary, I made hym abyde,

Whylest I came to you, a lytell here besyde.

Magn. Well, call hym, and let vs here hym reason,

And we wyll be comonynge in the mene season.

Court. Ab. This is a wyse man, syr, where so euer ye hym had. 1710

Magn. An honest person, I tell you, and a sad.

Court. Ab. He can full craftely this matter brynge aboute.

Magn. Whylest I haue hym, I nede nothynge doute.

Hic introducat Colusion, Mesure, Magnyfycence aspectant[e] vultu elatissimo.

Cl. Col. By the masse, I haue done that I can,

And more than euer I dyd for ony man:

I trowe, ye herde yourselfe what I sayd.

Mes. Nay, indede; but I sawe howe ye prayed,

And made instance for me be lykelyhod.

Cl. Col. Nay, I tell you, I am not wonte to fode

Them that dare put theyr truste in me; 1720

And therof ye shall a larger profe se.

Mes. Syr, God rewarde you as ye haue deserued:

But thynke you with Magnyfycence I shal be reserued?

Cl. Col. By my trouth, I can not tell you that;

But, and I were as ye, I wolde not set a gnat

By Magnyfycence, nor yet none of his,

For, go when ye shall, of you shall he mysse.

Mes. Syr, as ye say.

Cl. Col. Nay, come on with me:

Yet ones agayne I shall fall on my kne 1730

For your sake, what so euer befall;

I set not a flye, and all go to all.

Mes. The Holy Goost be with your grace.

Cl. Col. Syr, I beseche you, let pety haue some place

In your brest towardes this gentylman.

Magn. I was your good lorde tyll that ye beganne

So masterfully vpon you for to take

With my seruauntys, and suche maystryes gan make,

That holly my mynde with you is myscontente;

Wherfore I wyll that ye be resydent 1740

With me no longer.

Cl. Col. Say somwhat nowe, let se, for your selfe.[842]

Mes. Syr, yf I myght permytted be,

I wolde to you say a worde or twayne.

Magn. What, woldest thou, lurden, with me brawle agayne?

Haue hym hens, I say, out of my syght;

That day I se hym, I shall be worse all nyght.

[Here Mesure goth out of the place.[843]

Court. Ab. Hens, thou haynyarde, out of the dores fast!

Magn. Alas, my stomake fareth as it wolde cast!

Cl. Col. Abyde, syr, abyde, let me holde your hede. 1750

Magn. A bolle or a basyn, I say, for Goddes brede!

A, my hede! But is the horson gone?

God gyue hym a myscheffe! Nay, nowe let me alone.

Cl. Col. A good dryfte, syr, a praty fete:

By the good Lorde, yet your temples bete.

Magn. Nay, so God me helpe, it was no grete vexacyon,

For I am panged ofte tymes of this same facyon.

Cl. Col. Cockes armes, howe Pleasure plucked hym forth!

Magn. Ye, walke he must, it was no better worth.

Cl. Col. Syr, nowe me thynke your harte is well eased. 1760

Magn. Nowe Measure is gone, I am the better pleased.

Cl. Col. So to be ruled by measure, it is a payne.

Magn. Mary, I wene he wolde not be glad to come agayne.

Cl. Col. So I wote not what he sholde do here:

Where mennes belyes is mesured, there is no chere;

For I here but fewe men that gyue ony prayse

Vnto measure, I say, nowe a days.

Magn. Measure, tut! what, the deuyll of hell!

Scantly one with measure that wyll dwell.

Cl. Col. Not amonge noble men, as the worlde gothe: 1770

It is no wonder therfore thoughe ye be wrothe

With Mesure. Where as all noblenes is, there I haue past:

They catche that catche may, kepe and holde fast,

Out of all measure themselfe to enryche;

No force what thoughe his neyghbour dye in a dyche.

With pollynge and pluckynge out of all measure,

Thus must ye stuffe and store your treasure.

Magn. Yet somtyme, parde, I must vse largesse.

Cl. Col. Ye, mary, somtyme in a messe of vergesse,

As in a tryfyll or in a thynge of nought, 1780

As gyuynge a thynge that ye neuer bought:

It is the gyse nowe, I say, ouer all;

Largesse in wordes, for rewardes are but small:

To make fayre promyse, what are ye the worse?

Let me haue the rule of your purse.

Magn. I haue taken it to Largesse and Lyberte.

Cl. Col. Than is it done as it sholde be:

But vse your largesse by the aduyse of me,

And I shall waraunt you welth and lyberte.

Magn. Say on; me thynke your reasons be profounde. 1790

Cl. Col. Syr, of my counsayle this shall be the grounde,

To chose out ii. iii. of suche as you loue best,

And let all your fansyes vpon them rest;

Spare for no cost to gyue them pounde and peny,

Better to make iii. ryche than for to make many;

Gyue them more than ynoughe and let them not lacke,

And as for all other let them trusse and packe;

Plucke from an hundred, and gyue it to thre,

Let neyther patent scape them nor fee;

And where soeuer you wyll fall to a rekenynge, 1800

Those thre wyll be redy euen at your bekenynge,

For then[844] shall you haue at lyberte to lowte;

Let them haue all, and the other go without:

Thus ioy without mesure you shall haue.

Magn. Thou sayst truthe, by the harte that God me gaue!

For, as thou sayst, ryght so shall it be:

And here I make thé vpon Lyberte

To be superuysour, and on Largesse also,

For as thou wylte, so shall the game go;

For in Pleasure, and Surueyaunce, and also in thé, 1810

I haue set my hole felycyte,

And suche as you wyll shall lacke no promocyon.

Cl. Col. Syr, syth that in me ye haue suche deuocyon,

Commyttynge to me and to my felowes twayne

Your welthe and felycyte, I trust we shall optayne

To do you seruyce after your appetyte.

Magn. In faythe, and your seruyce ryght well shall I acquyte;

And therfore hye you hens, and take this ouersyght.

Cl. Col. Nowe, Jesu preserue you, syr, prynce most of myght!

Here goth Cloked Colusyon awaye, and leueth Magnyfycence alone in the place.

Magn. Thus, I say, I am enuyronned with solace; 1820

I drede no dyntes of fatall desteny.

Well were that lady myght stande in my grace,

Me to enbrace and loue moost specyally:

A Lorde, so I wolde halse her hartely,

So I wolde clepe her, so I wolde kys her swete!

Here cometh in Foly.

Fol. Mary, Cryst graunt ye catche no colde on your fete!

Magn. Who is this?

Fol. Consayte, syr, your owne man.

Magn. What tydynges with you, syr? I befole thy brayne pan.

Fol. By our lakyn, syr, I haue ben a hawkyng[845] for the wylde swan. 1830

My hawke is rammysshe, and it happed that she ran,

Flewe I sholde say, in to an olde barne,

To reche at a rat, I coude not her warne;

She pynched her pynyon, by God, and catched harme:

It was a ronner; nay, fole, I warant her blode warme.

Magn. A, syr, thy iarfawcon and thou be hanged togyder!

Fol. And, syr, as I was comynge to you hyder,

I sawe a fox sucke on a kowes ydder,

And with a lyme rodde I toke them bothe togyder.

I trowe it be a frost, for the way is slydder: 1840

Se, for God auowe, for colde as I chydder.

Magn. Thy wordes hange togyder as fethers in the wynde.

Fol. A, syr, tolde I not you howe I dyd fynde

A knaue and a carle, and all of one kynde?

I sawe a wethercocke wagge with the wynde;

Grete meruayle I had, and mused in my mynde;

The houndes ranne before, and the hare behynde;

I sawe a losell lede a lurden, and they were bothe blynde;

I sawe a sowter go to supper or euer he had dynde.

Magn. By Cockes harte, thou arte a fyne mery knaue. 1850

Fol. I make God auowe, ye wyll none other men[846] haue.

Magn. What sayst thou?

Fol. Mary, I pray God your maystershyp to saue:

I shall gyue you a gaude of a goslynge that I gaue,

The gander and the gose bothe grasynge on one graue;

Than Rowlande the reue ran, and I began to raue,

And with a brystell of a bore his berde dyd I shaue.

Magn. If euer I herde syke another, God gyue me shame.

Fol. Sym Sadylgose was my syer, and Dawcocke my dame:

I coude, and I lyst, garre you laughe at a game, 1860

Howe a wodcocke wrastled with a larke that was lame:

The bytter sayd boldly that they were to blame;

The feldfare wolde haue fydled, and it wolde not frame;

The crane and the curlewe therat gan to grame;

The snyte snyueled in the snowte and smyled at the game.

Magn. Cockes bones, herde you euer suche another?

Fol. Se, syr, I beseche you, Largesse my brother.

Here Fansy cometh in.

Magn. What tydynges with you, syr, that you loke so sad?

Fan. When ye knowe that I knowe, ye wyll not be glad.

Fol. What, brother braynsyke, how farest thou? 1870

Magn. Ye, let be thy iapes, and tell me howe

The case requyreth.

Fan. Alasse, alasse, an heuy metynge!

I wolde tell you, and yf I myght for wepynge.

Fol. What, is all your myrthe nowe tourned to sorowe?

Fare well tyll sone, adue tyll to morowe.

Here goth Foly away.

Magn. I pray thé, Largesse, let be thy sobbynge.

Fan. Alasse, syr, ye are vndone with stelyng and robbynge!

Ye sent vs a superuysour for to take hede:

Take hede of your selfe, for nowe ye haue nede. 1880

Magn. What, hath Sadnesse begyled me so?

Fan. Nay, madnesse hath begyled you and many mo;

For Lyberte is gone and also Felycyte.

Magn. Gone? alasse, ye haue vndone me!

Fan. Nay, he that ye sent vs, Clokyd Colusyon,

And your payntyd Pleasure, Courtly Abusyon,

And your demenour with Counterfet Countenaunce,

And your suruayour,[847] Crafty Conueyaunce,

Or euer we were ware brought vs in aduersyte,

And had robbyd you quyte from all felycyte. 1890