Here begynneth the chorle and the byrde

¶ Here begynneth the chorle and the byrde .

PRoblemes of olde lykenes & fygures . Whiche ꝓu●●…n fructuous of sentence And auct●●…es grounded on scrypturis By resemblaunce of notable apparence with moralytes concludynge on prudence Lyke as the nyble reherseth by wrytynge 〈◊〉 s chose them somtyme a kynge Fyrst in theyr chose they named the olyue To reygne amonge them ( Iudicium ) doth expresse But he hym selfe gan excuse belyue He myght not forsake his tatrenesse Ne the fygge tree his amerous swetnesse Ne the vyne his holsome tarage Whiche gyueth comforte to all maner aege And semblably poetes laurente By derke parables full conuenyent Fayne that byrdes and beestes of estate As ryall egles and lyons by assente Sente out wryttes to holde a parlayment And made decrets bryefly for to say Some to haue lordshyp and some to obeye Egles in the ayre hyghest make theyr 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 aye goddesse and quene Thus of all thynges there ben dyuersytees Some of estate and some of lowe degrees Poetes wryte wonderfull lyknes And vnder couerte kepe them selfe close They take beestes and foules to wytnes Of whose faynynge fables fyrst arose And here I call to my purpose Out of frensshe a tale to translate Whiche in a paunflete I redde and sawe late This tale whiche I make of mencyon In groos rehersed playnly to declare Thre prouerbes payed for a raunson Of a byrde whiche was take in a snare Wonder desyrous to scape fro her care Of myn auctours folowynge the processe So as it befell in order I shall expresse Somtyme there was a small vyllage As myn auctour maketh rehercayle A chorle whiche had luste and grete courage Within hymselfe by delygent trauayle To make a gardyn of ryche entayle Of length and brede lyke square and longe Hedged and dytched to make it sure & stronge All the aleys were made playne with sonde The benche couered with newe turues grene Chorle . Swete herbēs with conduytes at the honde That wyll it vp agayne the sonne shene Lyke syluer stremes as crystall clene The burbyll wayes in theyr vp boylynge Rounde as beryll the bemes out shewynge Mydde in the gardyn stode a fresshe lauryre Theron a byrde syngynge daye and nyght With shynynge fethers bryghter than golde wyre Whiche with her songe made heuy hertes lyght That to beholde it was an heuenly syght How towarde euen and in the dawenynge She dyde her payne moost amerously to synge Esperus enforced strongely her courage Towarde euen whan Phebus gan to west Amonge the braunches to her auauntage To synge her complyne and than go to rest And at rysynge of quene Alceste To synge agayne as it was her dewe Erly on morowe the daye sterre to salewe It was a very heuenly melodye Euen and morne to here the byrdes songe And the swete sugred armonye Of vncoute werblys and tewnes drawe alonge That all the gardyn of the noyse ronge Tyll on morowe whan Tytan shone clere This byrde 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 lytell preaty cage And with her songe to reioyse his courage Tyll at the laste the sely byrde abrayd And soberly thus to the chorle she sayd I am nowe take and stande vnder dangere Holden streyght that I may not flee A dieu my songe and all my notes clere Nowe that I haue loste my lybertee Now am I thrall where somtyme I was free And truste well whyle that I am in dystresse I can not synge nor make no gladnesse And though my cage forged were of golde And the pynacles of berell and crystall I remembre a prouerbe sayd of olde Who leseth his fredome forsoth he leseth all For I had leuer vpon a braunche small Merely to synge amonge the wodes grene Than in a cage of syluer bryght and shene Songe in pryson hath none accordaunce Trowest thou that I wyll synge in pryson Songe procedeth of Ioye and pleasaunce . And pryson causeth deth and destruccyon Ryngynge of feters is no mery sowne Or how sholde he be gladde or Iocounde Agayne his wyll that lyeth in chaynes bounde What auayleth it a lyon to be kynge Of beests all shette in a toure of stone Or an egle vnder streyte kepynge Called also kynge of fowles euerychone Fye on lordshyppe whan lyberte is gone Answere herto lette it not a sterte Who syngeth meryly the syngeth not at herte And yf thou wylte reioyse of my syngynge Lette me go fle ferre frome all daungere And euery daye in the mornynge I shall repayre vpon thy laurere And fresshely synge with lusty notes clere Vnder thy chambre or afore thyne halle Euery season whan thou lyst me call To be shytte vp and pynned vnder drede Nothynge accordeth 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 labourer is gladder at the plough Erly on morowe to feede hym on bacon Than some man is that hath good ynough And all deyntes plente and foyson And hath no fredome with his possessyon To go at large but as a bere at a stake To passe his bondes but yf he leue take Take this answere for a full conclusyon To synge in pryson thou shalte not me constrayne Tyll I haue fredome in wodes vp and downe To flee at large on bowes rough and playne And of reason thou sholdest not dysdayne Of my desyre but laughe and haue game But who is a chorle he wold eche man were the same Well quod the chorle syeth it wyll not be That I desyre as by thy talkynge , Maugre thy wyll thou shalte chese of thre Within a cage merely to synge Or to the kechyne I shall thy body brynge Pull thy fethers that be bryght and clere And after rost or bake the to my sopere Than sayd the byrde to reason say I not nay Touchynge my songe a full answere thou hast And whan my fethers plucked ben awaye And my body rosted or baken in a paast Thou shalte of me haue a small repaast But and thou wylte werke by my counceyll Thou mayst by me haue a grete auayll Yf thou wylte to my reason assent And suffre me go frely frome pryson Without raunson or ony other rente I shall the ryue a notable guardon Thre grete wysdoms accordynge to reason More of value take hede what I profre Than all the golde that shytte is in thy cofre Truste me well I shall the not dysceyue Well sayd the chorle tell anone lette se Nay sayd the byrde thou must afore conceyue Who shall teche of reason must go fre It sytteth a mayster to haue his lyberte And at large to teche his lesson Haue me not suspecte I meane 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 assent And toke her flyght vpon the laurer tree Than thought she thus nowe stande I free With snares & panters I purpose not my lyue Ne with no lymetwygges ony more to stryue He is a fole that scaped is fro daungere And hath broke his feters & fledde out of pryson Agayne to resorte / brent chylde dredeth fyre Eche man beware by wysdome and reason Suger strawed that hydeth false poyson There is no venym so peryllous of sharpnesse As whan it hath of tryacle the lykenesse Who dredeth no peryll in peryll he shall falle Smoth waters ben oftyme depe The quayle pype can moost falsly calle Tyll the quayle vnder the nette doth crepe A blere eyed fowler truste not though he wepe Eschewe his thombe of wepynge take none hede That smale byrde can nype by the hede And now that I suche daungere am eschaped Ilwyll beware and for a prouyde That of no fowler I wyll no more 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 wysedomes that I shall the teche Neue not of wysedome 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 no condycyon Thynge whiche is Impossyble to recure Worldly desyres stonde all in auenture And who desyreth to clymbe hyghe a lofte By sodayne tourne falleth ofte vnsofte The thyrde is this beware bothe eue and 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 Reken fyrst his losse and after his payne Of one sorowe he maketh sorowes twayne After this lesson the byrde began a songe Of her escape gretely reioysynge And remembred her also of the wronge Done by the chorle fyrst at her takynge Of her affraye and of her prysonynge Glad that she was at large and out of drede Sayd to hym houynge aboue his heed Thou were sayd she a very naturell fole To suffre me departe of thy lewdnes Thou oughtes of ryght complayne & make dole And in thyn herte to haue grete heuynes That thou hast lost so passynge grete ryches Whiche myght suffyse by value in rekenynge To paye the raunson of a myghty kynge There 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 the stone Is full assured agaynst his mortall fone Who hath this stone in his possessyon Shall suffre no pouerte no none Indygence But of all tresour haue plente and foyson And euery man shall do hym reuerence And enemye shall do hym none offence But frome thyn hondes now that I am gone Playne yf thou wylte for thy parte is none It causeth loue it maketh men gracyous And fauourable in euery mannes syght It maketh accorde bytwene folkes enuyous Conforteth sorowfull maketh heuy hertes lyght Lyke to pasyon of colour sonnysshe bryght I am a fole to tell all at ones Or teche a chorle the pryse of precyous stones Men sholde not put a precyous margaryte As rubyes saphyres and other stones of ynde Emerawdes and other perles whyte Afore rude swyne that loue drafe of kynde For a sowe delyteth as I fynde More in draffe 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 Bestes on the stronde The ayer for foules by nature is couenable And to the plough man for to tyll the londe And to a chorle a dongforke in his honde I lese my tyme ony more to tary For to tell a chorle of lapydary That thou haddest thou gettest nomore agayne Thy lyme twygges and panters I defye To lette me go thou were foule ouer sene To lese thy rychesse only of folye I am nowe fre to synge and to flye Where that me lyste and he is a fole at all That is at large and maketh hymselfe thrall To here of wysdome thyne eeres ben halfe deef Lyke an asse that lystneth on an harpe Thou mayst go pype on an yue 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 agone A chorles chorle is ofte woo begone The chorle felte his herte parte on tweyne For very sorowe and a sonder ryue Alas sayd he I may well wepe and playne As a wratche neuer lyke to thryue But for to endure in pouerte all my lyue For of foly and of wylfulnes I haue now loste all hole my ryches I was a lorde I crye out on fortune I had grete trasoure late in my kepynge Whiche myght haue made me longe contynue With that stone to haue lyued lyke a kynge yf I had sette it in a rynge Borne it vpon me . I had good ynoughe I sholde than no more haue gone to the ploughe Whan the byrde sawe the chorle thus morne And how that he was heuy of his chere She toke her flyght and gan agayne retorne Towarde hym and sayd as ye shall here O dulle chorle wysedomes for to lere That I the taught all is lefte behynde Racyd awaye and clene out of thy mynde Taught I the not this wysedome in sentence To euery tale brought to the of newe Not to hastely gyue therto credence Vnto tyme thou knowe that it were trewe All is not golde that sheweth goldesshe hew● Nor stones all be nature as I fynde Be not saphyrs that shewe colour ynde In this doctryne I lost my labour To teche the suche prouerbes of sustaunce Now may thou see thy blynde errour For all my body poysed in balaunce Weyth not an vnce rude is thy remembraunce I to haue more poyse cloysed in myn entrayll Than all my body sette for the counteruayll All my body weyth not an vnce How myght than I in me haue a stone That peyseth more than a Iagonce Thy brayne is dulle thy wytte is almoost gone Of thre wysdomes thou hast forgoten one Thou sholdest not after my sentence To euery tale to hastely gyue credence I bad also beware bothe euen and morowe For a thynge loste of sodayne auenture Thou sholdest not make to moche sorowe Whan thou seest thou mayst not it recure And here thou faylest whiche doost thy curs In thy snare to catche me agayne Thou arte a fole thy laboure is in vayne In the thyrde thou doost craue I bad thou sholdest in no maner wyse Coueyte thynge that thou mayst not haue In whiche thou hast forgone myne enpryse Than may I say playnly to deuyse Thou hast of madnes forgoten all thre Notable wysdomes that I taught the The vyntener treateth of holsom wynes Of gentyll fruyte bosteth the gardyner The fyssher casteth out hokes and lynes To catche fysshe in euery fresshe ryuer Of tylthe of londe treateth the bouer The gentylman talketh of gentery The chorle delyteth to speke of rybaudry All one to the fawcone and a kyte As good an owle as a popyngaye A ducke of the donghylle as deynte as a snyte Who serueth a chorle hath many a carefull daye A deu syr chorle fayre well I fle my waye I cast me neuer hens forth my lyuynge To fore a chorle ony more to synge Ye folke that shall this fable see or rede Newe forged tales I counseyll you to fle For losse of good take neuer grete hede Be not sorowfull for none aduersyte Coueyte nothynge that may not recouered be And remembre where euerye ryde or gone A chorles chorle is alwaye woo begone Vnto purpose this prouerbe is full ryf Redde and reported by olde remembraunce A chyldes byrde and a knaues wyfe Haue ofte syth grete sorowe and myschaunce And who hath fredome hath all suffysaunce Better is fredome with lytell in gladnes Than to be thrall with all worldely ryches Go lytell quayer and recommaunde me Vnto my mayster with humbly affeccyon Beseche hym lowly of mercy and pyte Of thy rude makynge to haue compassyon And as touchynge thy translacyon Out of Frensshe / how that it Englysshe be All thynges is sayd vnder correccyon With supportacyon of his benygnyte AMEN ¶ Here endeth the chorle and the byrde .