Here begynneth the chorle [and] the byrde Chorle and the birde Lydgate, John, 1370?-1451? This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A06545 of text S100687 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 17011). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 21 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A06545 STC 17011 ESTC S100687 99836517 99836517 795 2240910270

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A06545) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 795) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1:09) Here begynneth the chorle [and] the byrde Chorle and the birde Lydgate, John, 1370?-1451? [8] leaves In Caxtons house by Wynken de worde, [Emprynted att Westmynstre : 1497?] Anonymous. By John Lydgate. Signatures: A. Imprint from colophon; publication date from STC. Woodcut illustration on title page. Printer's device in colophon. In verse. Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng eebo Here begynneth the chorle [and] the byrde Lydgate, John, 1497 17 3198 5 0 0 0 0 0 15.63 C The rate of 15.63 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2005-04 Assigned for keying and markup 2005-06 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-08 Sampled and proofread 2005-08 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-10 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Here begynneth the chorle & the byrde
PRoblemes of olde lykenes and fygures Whiche prouyd ben fructuous of sentence And auctorytates grounded on scryptures By resemblaunce of notable apparence With moralytees concludynge on prudence Lyke as the byble reherceth by wrytynge How trees chese hem somtyme a kynge Fyrst in theyr chose they named th olyue To regne amonge them ( Iudicium ) doth expres But he hym selfe gan e●cusen blyue He myght not forsaken his fattenesse Ne the fyge tree his amerouse swetenesse Ne the vygne his holsome carage Whiche gyueth comfort to all maner age And semblably poetes laureate By derke parables full conuenyent Fayne that byrdes and bestes of astate As ryall egles and lyons by assent Sente out wryttes to holde a parleament And made decrees bryefly for to seye Some to haue lordshyp & some to obeye Egles in thayre hyghest to make the flyght Power of lyons on the grounde is sene Cedre amonge trees hyghest is of syght And the laurere of nature is aye grene Of floures all flora ay goddesse & quene Thus of all thynges ther ben dyuersytees Some of astate and some of lowe degrees Poetes wryte wonderfull lykenes And vnder couerte kepe hem self close They take bestes and foules to wytnes Of whos faynynge fables fyrste arose And here I caste to my pourpose Out of Frensshe a tale to translate Whiche in a paunflete I rede & sawe late This tale whiche I make of mencyon In groos rehersyd playnly to declare Thre prouerbes payed for a raunson Of a byrde whiche was take in a snare Wonder desyrouse to scape fro her care Of myn auctours folowynge the processe So as it befell in ordre I shall expresse Whylom ther was in a small vyllage As myn auctour maketh rehersayll A chorle whiche had luste & grete courage Within hym self by dylygent trauayll To make a gardyn of ryche entayll Of lengthe & brede lyche square and longe Hegged and dyched to make it sure & stronge All the aleys were made playne with sonde The benches couerde with newe turues grene Swete herbes with conduytes at the honde That wyl hit vp agayne the sonne shene Lyke syluer stremes as ony crystall clene The burbyll wawes in theyr vp boyllynge Rounde as berell theyr bemes out shewynge Mydde in the gardyn stode a fresshe lauryre Theron an byrde syngynge daye and nyght With shynyng fethers bryghter than golde wyre Whiche with her songe made heuy hertes lyght That to beholde hit was an heuenly syght How towarde euen and in the dawenynge She dyde her payne moost amerously to synge Esperus enforced strongly her courage Towarde euen whan Phebus gan to weste Amonge the braunches to her auantage To synge her complyne & than go to reste And at rysynge of quene alceste To synge agayne as it was her dewe Erly on morowe the daye sterre to salewe ●t was a very heuenly melodye Euen and morn to here the byrdes songe And the swete fugred armonye Of vncoute werblys & tewnes drawe a longe That all the gardyn of the noyse ronge Tyll on a morowe whan Tytan shone clere This birde was trapped & caught with a pantere The chorle was glad whan he this byrde had take Mery of chere of loke and of vysage And in all haste he purposed to make Within his house a preaty lytyll cage And with her songe to reioyse his courage Tyll at the laste the sely byrde abreyde And sobrely thus to the chorle she sayde I am now take and stande vnder dangere Holden streyght that I may not flee A deu my songe and all my notes clere Now that I haue loste my lybertee Now I am thrall where somtyme he was free And truste well whyle I am in dystresse I can not synge nor make no gladnesse And though my cage forged where of golde And the pynacles of berell and crystall I remembre a prouerbe sayd of olde Who loseth his fredom forsoth he loseth all For I haue leuer vpon a braunche small Merely to synge amonge the woodes grene Than in a cage of syluer bryght and shene Songe in pryson hath none accordaunce Trowest thou I wyll synge in pryson Songe procedeth of Ioye and of pleasaunce And pryson causeth deth and destruccyon Ryngynge of feters is no mery sowne Or how sholde he be glad or Ioconde Agayne his wyll that lyeth in cheynes bonde What auaylleth it a lyon to be a kynge Of beestes all shette in a toure of stone Or an egle vnder streyte kepynge Called also kynge of foules euerychone Fy on lordshyd whan lyberte is gone Answere herto late it not asterte Who syngeth meryly that syngeth not at herte And yf thou wylt reioyse of my syngynge Late me goo flee fer from all daungere And euery daye in the morenynge I shall repayre vnto thy laurere And fresshely synge with lusty notes clere ●nder thy chambre or a fore thyn halle Euery season whan thou lyste me calle To be shette vp and pynned vnder drede No thynge acordeth vnto my nature Though I were fed with mylke & wastell brede And with cruddes brought to my pasture Yet had I leuer to do my besy cure Erly on morowe to scrape in the vale To fynde my dyner amonge the wormes smale The laborer is gladder at the plough Erly on morowe to fedde hym on bacon Than some man is that hath good ynough And all deyntees plente and foyson And hath no fredom with his possessyon To goo at large but as a bere at a stake To passe his boundes but yf he leue take Take this answere for a full conclusyon To synge in pryson thou shalt not me constrayne Tyll I haue fredom in woodes vp and doun To flee at large on bowhes rowhe & playne And of reason thou sholdest not dysdayne Of my desyre but laughe & haue game But who is a chorle wolde eche man were the same Well quod the chorle syth it wyll not be That I desyre as by thy talkynge Magre thy wyll thou shalt chese of thre Within a cage meryly to synge Or to the kechyne I shall thy bodye brynge Pulle thy fethers that be bryght and clere And after roste or bake the to my soupere Than sayd the byrde to reason saye I not naye Touchynge my songe a full answere thou haste And whan my fethers plucked ben awaye And my bodye rosted or baken in paste Thou shalt of me haue a smale repaste But and thou wylt werke by my counsayll Thou mayst by me haue a grete auayll Yf thou wylt to my reason assente And suffre me goo frely from pryson Without raunson or ony other rente I shall the ryue a notable gwerdon Thre grete wysedoms accordynge to reason More of value take hede what I profre Than all the golde that shette is in thy cofre Truste me well I shall the not dysceyue Well sayd the chorle telle anone late see Nay sayd the byrde thou muste afore conceyue Who shall teche of reason muste goo free Hit sytteth a mayster to haue his lybertee And at large to teche his lesson Haue me not suspecte I mene no treason Well sayd the chorle I holde me contente I truste thy promyse that thou hast made to me The byrde flewe forth the chorle was of assente And toke her flyght vpon the laurer tree Than thought she thus now stande I free With snares & panters I purpose not my lyue Ne with no lymetwygges ony more to stryue He is a fooll that scaped is fro daunger Hath broke his fethers & fled out of pryson Agayne to resorte / brente childe dredeth fyre Eche man be ware by wysdome and reason Suger strawed that hydeth false poyson Ther is no venym so peryllous of sharpnesse As whan it hath of tryacle the lykenesse Who dredeth no peryll in peryll he shall falle Smothe waters ben oftyme depe The quayle pype can moost falsely calle Tyll the quayle vnder the nette doth crepe A blere eyed fowler truste not though he wepe Esche we his thombe of wepyng take none hede That smale byrdes can nype by the hede And now that I suche daungere am escaped I wyll beware and a fore prouyde That of no fowler I wyll nomore be Iaped Fro theyr lymetwygges I wyll flee fer a syde Where peryll is peryll is to abyde Come nere thou chorle and herke to my speche Of thre wysedoms that I shall the teche Yeue not of wysdome to hastely credence To euery tale ne to euery tydynge But conceyue of reason and of prudence Amonge many tales in many a lesynge Hastely credence hath caused grete hyndrynge Reporte of tales and tydynges tolde of newe Maketh many a man to beholde vntrewe For one parte take this for my raunson Lerne the seconde grounded on scrypture Desyre not thou by noo condycyon Thynge whiche is impossyble to recure Worldly desyres stande all in auenture And who desyred to clymbe hyghe a lofte Be sodayne tourne falleth ofte vnsofte ▪ The thyrde is this beware bothe eue & morowe Forgete it not but lerne this of me For treasour lost make neuer to grete sorowe Whiche in no wyse may recouered be For who soroweth for losse in that degre Rekene fyrste his losse and after his peyne Of one sorowe he maketh sorowes tweyne After this lesson the byrde began a songe Of her escape gretely reioyssynge And remembred her also of the wronge Done by the chorle fyrste at her takynge Of her affraye & of her enprysonynge Glad that she was at large & out of drede Sayd to hym hoouynge aboue his hede Thou were sayd she a veray naturall foole To suffre me departe of thy lowdenes Thou oughtest of right complayn & make doole And in thyn herte to haue grete he●ynes That thou haste loste so passynge grete ryches Whiche myght suffyse by valewe in rekenynge To paye the raunson of a myghty kynge Ther is a stone whiche called is a Iagonce Of olde engendred within myn entrayll Whiche of fyne golde peyseth an vnce Cytryne of colour lyke garnettes of entayll Whiche maketh men vyctoryous in batayll And who so euer bere on hym this stoon Is full assured agayne his mortall foon Who hath this stone in his possessyon Shall suffre no pouerte ne none Indygence But of all treasour haue plente and foyson And euery man shall do hym reuerence And enemye shall do hym none offence But fro thyn handes now that I am gone Playne yf thou wylt for thy parte is none It causeth loue it maketh men gracyous And fauorable in euery mannes syght It maketh accorde bytwene folke enuyous Conforteth sorowfull maketh heuy hertes lyght Lyke topasyon of colour sonnesshe bryght I am a fooll to telle all attones Or teche a chorle the pryce of precyous stones Men sholde not put a precyous margaryte As rubyes saphyres and other stones ynde Emerawdes and other perles whyte A fore rude swyne that loue draf of kynde For a sowe delyteth as I fynde More in drafte her pygges for to glade Than in all the perry that cometh out of garnade Eche thynge draweth to his semblable Fysshes in the see beestes on the stronde The ayer for foules by nature is couenable And to the plough man for to tylle the londe And to a chorle a dongforke in his honde I lose my tyme ony more to tarye For to telle a chorle of the lapydarye That thou haddest thou getest nomore agayn Thy lyme twygges and panters I defye To late me gone thou were foull ouer seyn To lose thy ryches only of folye I am now free to syngen and to flye Where that me lyste and he is a fooll at all That is at large and maketh hym self thrall To here of wysdome thyn eres ben half deef Lyke an asse that lystneth on an harpe Thou mayst goo pypen in an yuy leef Better is to me to synge on thornes sharpe Than in a cage with a chorle to carpe For it was sayd of folkes yeres agoon A chorles chorle is ofte woo begoon The chorle felte his herte parte on tweyne For veray sorowe and a sonder ryue Alas sayd he I maye well wepe and pleyne As a wretche neuer lyke to thryue But for tendure in pouerte all my lyue For of folye and of wylfulnes I haue now lost all holy my ryches I was a lorde I crye out on fortune I had grete tresour late in my kepynge Whiche myght haue made me longe contune With that stone / to haue lyued lyke a kynge Yf I had sette it in a rynge Born hit vpon me . I had good ynough I sholde than nomore haue gone to the plough Whan the byrde sawe the chorle thus morne And how that he was heuy of his chere She toke her flyght & gan agayn retorne Towarde hym and sayd as ye shall here O dull chorle wysedoms for to lere That I the taught all is left behynde Racyd awaye & clene out of thy mynde Taught I not the this wysedom in sentence To euery tale brought to the of newe Not to hastely gyue ther to credence In to tyme thou knowe that it were trewe All is not golde that sheweth goldesshe hewe Nor stones all be nature as I fynde Be not saphyrs that shewe colour ynde In this doctryne I loste my labour To teche the suche prouerbes of substaunce Now mayst thou see thy blynded errour For all my bodye poysed in balaunce Weyeth not an vnce rude is thy remembraunce I to haue more poyse closed in myn entraylle Than all my bodye set for the counteruaylle All my bodye weyeth not an vnce How myghty than I haue in me a stone That peyseth more than a Iagonce Thy brayne is dull thy wytte is all moost gone Of thre wysedoms thou hast forgoten one Thou sholdest not after my sentence To euery tale to hastely gyue credence I bad also beware both euen and morowe For thynge loste of sodayne auenture Thou sholdest not make to moche sorowe Whan thou seest thou mayst it not recure And here thou faylest whiche doost thy cure In thy snare to catche me agayne Thou art a fooll thy labour is in vayne In the thyrde thou doost raue I had thou sholdest in no maner wyse Coueyte thynge that thou mayst not haue In whiche thou haste forgone myn enpryse Than may I saye playnly to deuyse Thou hast of madnes forgoten all thre Notable wysedoms that I taught the The vynetener treateth of holsome wynes Of gentyll fruyte boosteth the gardener The fyssher casted out hokes and lynes To catche fysshe in euery fresshe ryuer Of tylthe of londe treateth the houere The gentylman talketh of genterye The chorle delyteth to speke rybaudrye All one to the fawkone and a kyte As good an owle as a popyngaye A doke of the donghylle as deynte as a snyte Who serueth a chorle hath many a carefull daye A den syr chorle fare well I flee my waye I casse my neuer hens forth me lyuynge To fore a chorle ony more to syuge Ye folke that shall this fable see or rede Newe forged tales I counseyll you to flee For losse of good take neuer grete hede Be not sorowfull for none aduersyte Coueyte no thynge that may not recouered be And remembre where euer ye ryde or goon A chorles chorle is alwaye woo be goon Vnto purpose this prouerbe is full ryff Rede and reported by olde remembraunce A chyldes byrde and a knaues wyff Haue ofte sythe grete sorowe and meschance And who hath fredom hath all suffysance Better is fredom with lytyll in gladnes Than to be thrall with all worldly ryches Goo lytyll quayer and recommaunde me Vnto my mayster with humble affeccyon Beseke hym lowly of mercy and pyte Of thy rude makynge to haue compassyon And as touchynge thy translacyon Out of frensshe / how that it Englysshed be All thynge is sayd vnder correccyon With supportacyon of his benygnyte Explicit the chorle and the byrde . Emprynted att Westmynstre in Caxtons house by Wynken de worde .

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