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Yprayid Jupiter on hie,
To save and kepin that navie
Of that dere Trojan Æneas,
Sitnins that he your sonne y was.

Gode Counsailc of CHAUCER.

Into Itaile, with full moche pine,
Unto the strondis of Lavine,
And tho began the storie' anone,
As I shall cellin you echone.

First sawe Ithe distruccion
Of Troie, thorough the Greke Sinon,
With his false unirve forswerynges,
And with his chere and his lesynges,
That made a horse, brought into Troye,
By whiche Trojans lusse all their joye.

And afrir this was graved, alas !
How Ilions castill assailed was,
And won, and kyng Priamus slain,
And Pulites his sonne certain,
Dispitously of Dan Pyrrhus.

And next that sawe I bowe Venus,
When that she sawe the castili brende,
Doune from hevin she gan discende,
And bade her sonne Æneas fie,
Aud how he fied, and how that he
Escapid was from all the pros,
And toke his fathre', old Anchises,
And bare hym on his backe awaie,
Crying alas and welawaie !
The whiche Anchises in his hande,
Bire tho the goddis of the lande
I mene 'thilke that unbrennid were.

Then sawe I next that all in sere
How Creusa, Dan Eneas wife,
Whom that he lovid all his life,
And her yong sonne clepid Julo,
And eke Ascanius also,
Fleddin eke, with full drerie chere,
That it was pite for to here,
And in a forest as thei went
How at a tournyng of a went
Creüsa was ilosie, alas !
That rede not I, how that it was.
How he her sought, and how her ghoste
Bad hym to fie the Grekis hoste,
And saied he must into Itaile,
As was his destinie, sauns faile,
That it was pitie for to here,
When that her spirite gan appere,
The wordis that she to hym saied,
And for to kepe her sonne hym praied,

There sawe I gravin eke how he
His fathir eke, and his meine,
With his shippis began to saile
Toward the countrey of Iraile,
As streight as ere thei mightin go.

There sawe I eke the, cruill Juno,
That art Dan Jupiler his wife,
That hast ihated all thy life
Merciless all the Trojan blode,
Rennin and crie as thou were wode
On Æolus, the god of windes,
To blowin out of alle kindes
So loudè, that he should ydrenche
Lorde, and ladie, and grome, and wenche
Of all the Trojanis nacion,
Without any of their salvacion.

There sawe I soche tempest arise,
That every hertè might agrise,
To se it paintid on the wall.

There 'sawe I eke gravin withall,
Vepus, how ye, my ladie dere,
Yuepyng with full wofull chere

FLIE fro the prese and dwell with soth

Suffise untolny gode though it be small,
For horde hath haie, and climbyng tikilnesse,

Prece hath envie, and wele it brent oer all,
Savour no more chen the behovin shall,
Rede well thy self, that othir fólks

canst rede,
And trouthe the shall delivir it 'is no

drede. Painè the not eche crokid to redresse,

In trust of her that tou nith as a balle,
Grete rest standith in litil businesse,

Beware also to spurne against a nalle,
Strive not as doith a crocke with a walle,

Demith thyself that demist othir's dede,
And trouche the shall deliver it 'is no

That the is sent receve in buxomenesse;

The wrastlyng of this worlde skith a fall; Here is no home, here is bus wildirnesse, Forthe pilgrim, forthe o best out of thy

stall, Loke up on high, and thanke thy God o

all. Weivith thy lust and let thy ghost thu

lede. And trouthe the shall delivir, it 'is n


Balade of the village without paintyag.


HIS wretchid world'is transmutacion
As wele and wo, nowe pore, and now h

Without ordir or due discrecion,

Govirnid is by fortune'is errour.
But nathelesse the lacke of her favour
Ne maie not doe me syog though tha

J'ay tout perdu, mon temps & mon lab

For finally fortune I doe detie, Yet is me left the sight of my resoun

To knowin frende fro foe in thy mirro So moche hath yet thy tournyng up and do

I taughtin me to knowin in an hour,
But truily no force of thy reddour

To hym that ovir hymself hath mais
My suffisau ace yshal be my şuccour,

For finally fortune I do defie. O Socrates, thou stedfast champion,

She ne might nevir be thy curmentour Thou nevir dreddist her oppression,

Ne in her chere foundio thou no favou
Thou knewe wele the disceipt of her

And that her moste worship is for
Į knowe her eke a false dissimulour.

For Sinally fortune I do dcfie.

The heven hath propirtie of sikirness, The answere of Fortune.

This worldè hath evir restlesse travaile,

The last daie is the ende of myne entresse, No man is wretchid but hymself it wene,

In generall this rule ne maie not faile. He that yhath hymself hath suffisaunce,

Th'envoye of Fortune.
Why saies: thou then I am to the so kene,

That hath thy self out of my govirnaunce? Princes I praie you of your gentilnesse,
Saie thus grant mercie of thin habundaunce, Let not this man thus crie and plain,
That thou hast lent or this, thou shalt not And I shall quitin you this businesse,

And if ye liste releve hym of his pain, What wost thou yet how I the woll avaunce? Praie ye his best frende of his noblenesse

And eke thou hast thy beste frende alive. That to some bettir state he maie attain. I have the taught division betwene Frende of effecte, and frende of countinu. aunce,

Lydgate was a monk of Bury, who The nedith not the gallè of an hine, wrote about the same time with Chaucer. That cureth eyin derke for ther penaunce, Out of his prologue to his third book of Now seest thou clere that wee in igno. The Fall of Princes a few stanzas are sem

raunce, Yet holt thine anker, and thou maiest lected, which, being compared with the arive

tyle of his two contemporaries, will There bountie bereth the key of my sub- show that our language was then not staunce,

written by caprice, but was in a settled And eke thou haste they bestè frende state,

alive. How many have I refused to sustene, LIKE a pilgrime which that goeth on facte,

Sith I have the fostrid in thy plesaunce? And hath none horse to releue his trauayle, Wolt thou then make a statute on thy quene, Whote, drye and wery, and may finde no bute

That I shall be aie at thine ordinaunce ? Of wel cold whan thrust doch hym assayle, Thou born art in my reign of variaunce, Wine nor licour, that may to him auayle, About the whele with othir must thou Right so fare I which in my businesse, drive,

No succour fynde my rudenes to redresse. My lore is bet, then wicke is thy grevaunce, I meane as thus, I have no fresh licour And eke thou hast beste frende alive. Out of the conduites of Calliope,

Nor through Clio in rhetorike no floure, The answere to Fortune.

In my labour for to refresh me :

Nor of the susters in noumber thrise three, Thy lore I dampne, it is adversitie, Which with Cithera on Parnaso dwell, My frend maist thou not revin blind god. They neuer me gaue drinke once of their wel. desse,

Nor of theyr springes clere and christaline, That I thy frendis knowe I thanke it the, That sprange by touchyng of the Pegase,

Take 'hem again, ler 'hem go lie a presse, Their fauour lacketh my making ten lumine The nigardis in Repyng cher richesse I fynde theyr bawme of so great scarcitie,

Pronostike is thou wolt ther toure assaile, Tó tame their runnes with some drop of Wicke appetite cometh aie before sicke

plentie nesse,

For Poliphemus throw his great blindnes, In generall this rule ne mai not faile. Hath in me derked of Arges the brightnes.

Our life here short of wit the great dulnes Fortune.

The heuy soule troubled with trauayle,

And of memorye the glasyng broteines, Thou pinchist at my mutabilitie,

Drede and vncuoning haue made a strong ba. For I the lent a droppe of my richesse,

tail And now me likith to withdrawin me, With werines my spirite ro assayle,

Why shouldist shou my roialtie oppresse? And with their subtil creping in most queint The se maie ebbe and flowin more and Hath made my spirit in makyng for to feint. lesse,

Add ouermore, the ferefull forwardnes The welkin hath might to shine, rain, Of my stepmother called obliuion, and haile,

Hatha bastylt of foryetfulnes,
Right so must I kithin my brotilnesse, To stoppe the passage, and shadow my reason
In generall this rule ne maic not faile. That I might haue nu clere direccion,

In translating of new to quicke me,
The Plaintiffs.

Stories to write of olde antiquite.

Thus was I set and stode in double werre La the execucion of the majestie,

At the metyng of feareful wayes tweyne, That all purveighith of his rightwisenesse, The one was this, who euer list to lere, That same thyng fortune yclepio ye,

Whereas good wyll gan ne constrayne, Ye blindé bestis full of leudèness ! Bochas taccomplish for to doe my payne,

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Came ignoraunce, with a menace of drede, and therfor it is, that the Lawys sayen,
My penne to rest I durst nor procede. Quod Principi placuit Lagis habet vigorem.

And thus I suppose first beganne in

Realmys, Donimum tantum Regale. But Fortescue was chief justice of the Com- afterward, whan Mankynd was more mon-Pleas, in the reign of king Henry mansuete, and better disposyd to Vertue, VI. He retired in 1471, after the battle Grete Communalties, as was the Feliship, of Tewkesbury, and probably wrote most that came into this Lond with Brute, of his works in his privacy. The fol- wyllyng to be unyed and made a Body lowing passage is selected from his book Politike callid a Realme, havyng an Heed of The Difference betzucen an absolute and to governe it; as after the Saying of the limited Monarchy.

Philosopher, every Communaltie unyed

of many parts must needs have an Heed; HYT

may peraventure be marvelid by than they chose the same Brute to be some men, why one Realme is a Lord their Heed and Kyng. And they and shyp only Royall, and the Prynce thereof he upon this Incorporation and Institurulyth yt by his Law, callidus Regale; tion, and onyng of themself into a Realme, and another Kyngdome is a Lordschip, ordeynyd the same Realme so to be rulyd Royall and Politike, and the Prince there- and justyfyd by such Lawys, as they of rulyth by a Lawe, callyd Jus Politic would assent unto; which Law therfor cum & Regale; sythen thes 'two Princes is callid Politicum; and bycause it is beth of egall Astate.

mynystrid by a Kyng, it is callid Regale. To this dowte it may be answeryd in Dominium l'orticum dicitur quasi kegia this manner; The first Institution of men, plurium Scicntia, sire consilio minis. thes twoo Realmys, upon the Incorpora- tratum. The Kyng of Scotts reynith tion of then, is the Cause of this di- upon his People by his Lawe, vidéircet, versyte.

Regimine Politico $ Regali. And as When Nembroth by Might, for his Diodorus Syculus saith, in his Boke de own Glorye, made and incorporate the priscis ltistoriis, The Realme of Egypte is first Realme, and subduyd it to hymself rulid by the same Lawe, and therfor the by Tyrannye, he would not have it go- Kyng therof chaungith not his Lawes, vernyd by any other Rule or Lawe, but withoui the Assent of his people. And by his own Will; by which and for th' in like forme as he saith is ruled the accomplishment thereof he made it. And Kyngdome of Saba, in Felici Arabia, and therefor, though he had thus made a

the Lond of Libie; And also the more Realme, holy Scripture denyyd to cal párte of al the Realmys in Afrike. Which hym a kyng, Quia Rcx dicitur a Rc-, manner of Rule and Lordship, the sayd gendo ; Whych thyng he dyd not, but Diodorus in that Boké, praysith gretely. oppressyd the People by Myght, and for it is not only good for the Prince, therfor he was a Tyrant, and callid Pri- that may thereby the more sewerly do mus Tyramorum. But holy Writ callith Justice, than by his owne Arbitriment; hym Robustus l'enuior coram Deo. For but it is also good for his People that reas the Hunter takyth the wyld beste for ceyve therby, such Justice as they deto scle and eate hym; so Neinbroth sub- syer themselt. Now as me seymth, it duyd to him the People with Might, to ys shewyd opinly ynough, why one Kyng have their service and their goods, using rulyth and reynith on his People Doupon them the Lordschip that is callid minig tantum Regali, and that other reynDominium Kegule rantum. After hym ith Dominio. Politico & Regali: For that Belus that was callid tirst a Kyng, and one Kyngdome beganne, of and by, the after hym his Sone Nynus, and after Might of the Prince, and the other be

vym other Panyms; 'They, by Example ganne, by the Desier and Institution of
of Nembroth, malo them Realmys, tlie People of the same Prince,
would not bare them rulyd by other
Lawys than by their own Wills.' Which Of the works of Sir Thomas More it
Lawys ben right good under good was necessary to give a larger specimen,
Princes; and their kyngdoms a then both because our language was then in a
most resemblyd to the Kyrgdome of great degree formed and settled, and be-
God, which reynith upon Man, rulyng cause it appears from Ben Jonson, that
him by lys own Will. Wherfor many his works were considered as models of
Crystyn Princes usen the same Lawe; pure and elegant style. The tale, which

is placed first, because earliest written, There is another reason why the er. will show what an attentive reader will, tracts from this author are more copious : in perusing our old writers, often re his works are carefully and correctly mark, that the familiar and colloquial printed, and may therefore be better part of our language, being diffused trusted than any other, edition of the among those classes who had no ambi- English books of that or the preceding tion of refinement, or affectation of no ages, velty, has suffered very little change.

A merry iese how a sergeant would learne

to playe the frere. Written by maister Thomas More in hys youth.

Wyse men alway,
Affyrine and say,

That best is for a man:
Di igently,
For to apply,

The business that he can,
And in no wyse,
To enterprese,

An other faculte,
For he that wyll,
And can no skyil,

Is neuer like to the.
He that hach lafie,
The husiers crafte,

And fal'eth to making shone,
The smythe that shall,
To payntyng fall,

His chrift is well nigh done.
A blacke draper,
With whyte paper,

To goe to writyng scole,
An olde burier,
Becum a cutler,

I wene shall proue a fule.
And an olde trot,
That can I wot,

Nothyng but kysse the cup,
With her phisick,
Wil kepe one sicke,

Tyll she haue soused hym vp.
A man of lawe,
That neuer sawe,

The wayes to bye and sell,
Wenyog to ryse,
By marchaundise,

I wish to spede hym well.
A marchaunt cke,
That wyll goo seke,

By all the meanes he may,
To fall in sute,
Tyll he dispute,

His money cleane away,
Pletyng the lawe,
For every strawe,

Shall proue a thrifty man,
With bare and strife,
But by my life,

I cannot tell you whan.
When an hatter
Wytl ye smatter

In philosophy,
Or a pedlar,
Ware a modlar,

In theulogy,
All that ensue,
Suche crafres new,

They driue so farre a cast,
That euermore,
They do thertore,

Beshrewe themselfe at tast.
This thing was tryed
And vtrefyed,

Here by a sergenunt late,
That thrifily was,
Or he coulde pas,

Rapped about the pate,
Whyle that he would
See how he could,

A little play the frere:
Njwyf you wyll, :
Knowe how it fyil,

Take hede and ye shall here,
It happed so,
Nor long ago,

A thrifty man there dyed,
An hundred pounde,
Of nobles rounde,

That had he ayd a side :
His sucne he wolde,
Should haue this golde,

For to beginne with all :
But to suffise
His chylde, well thrise,

That money was to smal.
Yet or this day,
I have hard say,

That many a man certesse,
Hath with goud cast,
Be ryche at last,

That hath begonne with lesse.
But this yonge manne,
So well beganne,

His money to imploy,
That certainly,
His policy,

To see it was a joy,
For lest sum blast,
Myght ouer cast,

His ship, or by mischaunce,
Men with sum wile,
Myght hym begyle,

And minish his substaunce,
For to put out,
Al maner dout,

He made a good puruay,

For euery whyt,
By his owne wyt,

And toke an other way :
First fayre and wele,
Therof much dele,

Pe dygged it in a pot,
Bur chen him thought,
That way was nought,

And there he left it not.
So was he faine,
From thence agayne,

To put it in a cup,
And by and by,

He supped it fayre vp,
In his owne brest,
He thought it best,

His money to enclose,
Then wist he well,
What euer fell,

He could it neuer lose.
He borrowed then,
Of other men,

Money and marchaundise :
Neuer payd it,
Up he laid it,

In like maner wyse.
Yet on the gere,
That he would were,

He reight not what he spent,
So it were nyce,
As for the price,

Could him not miscontent.
With lusty sporte,
And with resort,

Of joly company,
In mirth and play,
Full many a day,

He liued merely.
And men had sworne,
Some man is borne,

To have a lucky howre,
And so was he,
For such degre,

He gat and suche honour,
That without dout,
Whan he went out,

A sergeaunt well and fayre,
Was redy strayte,
On him to wayte,

As sone as on the mayre.
But he doubtlesse,
Of his mekenesse,

mated such pompe and pride,
And would not go,
Companied so,

But drewe himself a side,
To saint Katharine,
Streight as a line,

He gate him at a tyde,
For deuocion,
Or promocion,

There would he nedes abyde,
There spent he fast,
Till all were past,

And to him came there meny,
Toaske tbeyr det,
But none could get,

The valour of a peny.
With visage stout,
He bare it out,

Euen vnto the harde hedge,
A month or twaine,
Tyll he was fayne,

To laye his gowne to pledge.
Than was he there,
In greater feare,

Than ere that he came thither,
And would as fayne,
Depart againe,

But that he wist not whither.
Than after this,
To a frende of his,

He went and there abode,
Where as he lay,
So sick alway,

He myght not come abrode.
It happed than,
A marchant man,

That he ought money to,
Of an officere,
That gan enquere,

What him was best to do.
And he answerde,
Be not aferde,

Take an accion therfore,
I you beheste,
I shall hym reste,

And than care for no more.
I feare quod he,
It wyll not be,

For he wyll not come out,
The sergeaunt said,
Be not afrayd,

It shall be brought about.

many a game,
Lyke to the same,

Haue I bene well in vre,
And for your sake,
Let me be bake,

But yf I do this cure.
Thus part they both,
And foorth then

A pace this officere,
And for a day,
All his array,

He chaunged with a frere.
So was he dight,
That no man might,

Hym for a frere deny,
He dopped and dooked,
He spake and looked,

So religiously.
Yet in a glasse,
Or he would passe,

He toted and he peered,
His harte for pryde,
Lepte in his syde,

To see how well he freered.
Than forth a pace,
Unto the place,

He goeth withouten shame
To do this dede,
But now take hede,

For here begynneth the game

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