Pithy pleasaunt and profitable workes of maister Skelton, Poete Laureate. Nowe collected and newly published. Anno 1568

FOr he was a prety cocke And came of a gentill stocke and wrapt in a maidens smock And cherished full daintely tyll cruel fate made him to dye

Alas for doleful desteny But where to shuld I Lenger morne or cry? To Iupiter I call Of heauen emperial That Philip may fly Aboue the sterrysky To treade the pretywren That is our Ladies hen Amen, amen, amen ¶ Yet one thing is behinde That now commeth to mind An Epitaphe I wold haue For Phillips graue But for I am a mayde Timerous, halfe a frayde That neuer yet a sayde Of Elycones well Where the muses dwell Though I can rede and spell Recount report and tell Of the talles of Caunterbury Some sad storyes, some mercy As Palomon, and Arcet Duke Theseus and partelet And of the wife of bath That worketh much scathe Whan her tale is told

Among huswiues bold How she controld Her husbandes as she wold And theim to dispise In the homeliest wise Bring other wiues in thought their husbandes to set at naught

And though that red haue I Of Gawen and syr Guy And tel can a great peece Of the golden fleere How Iason it wan Like a valiaunt man Of Arturs round table with his knightes commēdable And dame Gaynour hys Quene was somwhat wanton I wene How syr Launcelote de lake Many a speare brake For his Ladyes sake Of Tristrom and kyng Marke And al the whole warke Of bele I sold his wife For whom was much strife Some say she was lyght And made her husband knyght Of the common hall That cuckoldes men call

And of sir Libius Named Disconius Of quarter fylz Amunde And how they were sommond To Rome to Charlemayne Upon a great payne And how they rode each one On Bayard Mountalbon Men se him now and then In the forest Arden What though I can frame The storyes by name Of Iudas Machabeus And of Cesar Iulius And of the loue betwene Paris and viene And of the duke of Hannyball That made the Romaynes al For drede and to quake How Scipion did wake The citie of Cartage Which by his vnmerciful rage He beat down to the ground And though I can expound Of Hector of Troy That was al theyr ioye Whome Achilles slue Wherfore all Troy did rue

And of the loue so hote That made Troylus to dote Upon fayre Cresseyde And what they wrote and sayd And of their wanton wils Pandaer bare the byls From one to the other His maisters loue to further Somtime a precious thynge An ouche or els a ryng From her to him agayn Somtime a prety chain Or a bracelet of her heare Prayed Troylus for to weare That token for her sake How hartely he did it take And much therof did make And al that was in vayne For shee dyd but fayne The story telleth playne He could not obtayne Though his father wer a king Yet there was a thynge That made the male to wryng She made him to sing The song of louers laye Musing night and daye Mourninge al alone

Comfort had he none For she was quite gone Thus in conclusion She broughte him in abusion In earnest and in game She was much to blame Disparaged is her fame And blemished is her name In maner half with shame Troylus also hath lost On her muche loue and cost And now must kisse the post Pandara that went betwene Hath won nothyng I ween But light for somer greene Yet for a speciall laud He is named Troyllous baud Of that name he is sure Whiles the world shal dure

Though I remembre the fable Of Penelope most stable To her husband most trew Yet long time she ne knew Whether he were on liue or ded Her wit stode her in sted That she was true and iuste For anye bodelye luste To Ulixes her make

And neuer wold him forsake

Of Marcus Marcellus A prosses I could tel vs And of Anteocus And of Iosep hus De antiquitatibus And of Mardocheus And of great Assuerus And of Uesca his Queene Whome he forsoke with teene And of Hester his otherwife With whom he led a pleasaunt life Of kynge Alerander And of kyng Euander And of Porcena the greate That made the romains to smart

Though I haue enrold A thousande newe and old Of these historyous tales To fil bougets and ••ales With bookes that I haue red Yet I am nothynge syed And can but Iytle skyl Of Ouid or Uergil

Or of Plutharke Or of Fraunces Petrarke Alcheus or Sapho Or suche other Poetes moe.

As Linus and Homerus Enphorion and Theocritus Anacreon an Arion Sophocles and Philemon Pindarus and Dimonides Philiston & Phorocides These Poetes of auncientie They are to diffuse for me

For as I to fore haue sayd I am but a yonge mayd And cannot in effect My stile as yet direct With englysh wordes elect Our naturall tonge is rude And hard to be enneude Wyth pollyshed tearmes lustye Oure language is so rustye So tankered and so ful Of frowardes and so dul That if I wold apply To write ordinately I wot not where to finde Termes to serue my mynde Gowers englyshe is olde And of no value is tolde His matter is worth gold And worthy to be enrold

In Chauser I am sped

His tales I haue red His mater is delectable Solacious and commendable His englishe wel alowed So as it is enprowed For as it is employed There is no englyshe voyd At those dayes muche commended And now men wolde haue amēded His englishe where at they barke And marre all they warke Chaucer that famous Clarke His tearmes were not darcke But pleasaunt easy, and playne No worde he wrote in vayne

Also Ihon Lydgate Wrytteth after an hyer rate It is diffuse to fynde The sentence of his mind Yet wryteth he in his kind No man that can amend Those maters that he hath pend Yet some men finde a faut And say he wryteth to haut

Wherfore hold me excused If I haue not wel perused Myne englysh halfe abused Thoughe it be refused

In worth I shall it take And fewer wordes makē

But for my sparowes sake Yet as a woman maye My wit I shall assay An Epytaphe to wryghte In latyne playne and lyght Wherof the Elegy Foloweth by and by Flos Volucrum formose Valo Philippe sub is to Marmore iam recubas Quis mihi carus cras Semper erunt niido Radiantia sidera celo Impressusque meo Pectore semper eris Per me Laurigerum Britanum Skeltonida Vaten Hec cecinisse licet Ficta sub imagine texta Cuius eris uolucris Prestanti corpore Vrgo Candida Nais erat Formosior ista Ioanna est Docta corinna fuit Sed magis ista sapit

Bien men souient.