Here begynneth a lytell treatyse named the bowge of courte Skelton, John, 1460?-1529. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A12281 of text S100972 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 22597). 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. 29 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 13 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A12281 STC 22597 ESTC S100972 99836799 99836799 1087 2240949496

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A12281) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 1087) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1188:11) Here begynneth a lytell treatyse named the bowge of courte Skelton, John, 1460?-1529. [24] p. By me Wynkyn the worde, [Enprynted at westmynster : [1499?]] By John Skelton. Imprint from colophon. Publication date conjectured by STC. In verse. Signatures: A-B⁶. Reproduction of the original in the National Library of Scotland. eng eebo Here begynneth a lytell treatyse named the bowge of courte. Skelton, John, 1499 26 4673 6 0 0 0 0 0 12.84 C The rate of 12.84 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2002-05 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-06 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-08 Sampled and proofread 2002-08 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-10 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

Here begynneth a lytell treatyse named the bowge of courte .

IN Autumpne whan the sonne in vyrgyne By radyante hete enryped hath our corne Whan luna full of mutabylyte As Emperes the dyademe hath worne Of our pole artyke smylynge halfe in scorne At our foly and our vnstedfastnesse The tyme whan Mars to werre hym dyde dies I callynge to mynde the greate auctoryte Of poetes olde whyche full craftely Vnder as couerte termes as coude be Can touche a troughte and cloke it subtylly Wyth fresshe vtteraunce full sentencyously Dyuerse in style some spared not vyce to wrythe Some of mortalyte nobly dyde endyte Wherby I rede theyr renome and theyr fame Maye neuer dye bute euermore endure I was sore moued to a force the same But Ignoraunce full soone dyde me dysture And shewed that in this arte was not sure For to Illumyne she sayde I was to dulle Auysynge me my penne awaye to pulle And not to wrythe / for he so wyll atteyne Excedynge ferther than his connynge is His hede maye be harde but feble is his brayne Yet haue I knowen suche er this But of reproche surely he maye not mys That clymmeth hyer than he may fotynge haue What and he slyde downe who shall hym saue Thus vp & down my mynde was drawen & cast That I ne wyste what to do was beste Soo sore enwered that I was at the laste Enforsed to slepe and for to take some reste And to lye downe as soone as I my dreste At harwyche porte slumbrynge as I laye In myne hostes house called powers keye Me thoughte I sawe a shyppe goodly of sayle Come saylynge forth in to that hauen brood Her takelynge ryche and of hye apparayle She kyste an anker and there she laye at rode Marchauntes her borded to see what she had lode There in they founde Royall marchaundyse Fraghted with plesure of what ye con●e deuyse But than I thoughte I wolde not dwell behynde Amonge all other I put my selfe in prece Than there coude I none aquentaunce fynde There was moche noyse anone one cryed cese Sharpely commaundynge eche man holde hys pece Maysters he sayde the shyp that ye here see The bowge of courte it hyghte for cert●ynet The awnner therof is lady of estate Whoos name to tell is dame saunce pere Here marchaundyse is ryche and fortunate But who wyll haue it muste paye therfore dere This Royall chaffre that is shypped here Is called fauore to stonde in her good grace Than sholde ye see there pressynge in a pace Of one and other that wolde this lady see Whiche sat behynde a tranes of sylke fyne Of golde of tessew the fynest that myghte be In a trone whiche fer clerer dyde shyne Than Phebus in his spere celestyne Whoos beaute honoure goodly porte I haue to lytyll connynge to reporte But of eche thynge there as I toke hede Amonge all other was wrytten in her trone In golde letters this worde whiche I dyde rede Garder le fortune que est mauelz et bone And as I stode redynge this verse my selfe allone Her chyef gentylwoman daunger by her name Gaue me ataunte and sayde I was to blame To be so perte to prese so proudly vppe She sayde she trowed that I eten sause She asked yf euer I dranke of saucys cuppe And I than softly answered to that clause That so to saye . I had gyuen her no cause Than asked she me Syr so god the spede What is thy name and I sayde it was drede What mouyd the quod she hydder to come Forloth quod I to bye some of youre ware And with that worde on me she gaue a glome With browes bente and gan on me to stare Full daynnously and fro me she dyde fare Leuynge me stondynge as a mased man To whome there came an other gentylwoman Desyre her name was and so she me tolde Sayenge to me broder be of good chere Abasshe you not but hardely be bolde Auaunce your selfe to aproche and come nere What though our chaffer be neuer so dere Yet I auyse you to speke for ony drede Who spareth to speke in fayth he spareth to spede maystres quod I. I haue none aquentaunce That wyll for me be medyatoure and mene And this an other I haue but smale substaunce Pece quod Desyre ye speke not worth a bene Yf ye haue not in fayth I wyll you lene A precyous Iewell no rycher in this londe Boneauenture haue here now in your honde Shyfte now therwith let see as ye can In bowge of courte cheuysaunce to make For I dare saye that there nys erthly man But an he can bone auenture take There can no fauour nor frendshyp hym forsake Bone auenture may brynge you in suche case That ye shall stonde in fauoure and in grace But of one thynge I werne you er I goo She that styreth the shyp make her your frende Maystres quod I. I praye you tell me why soo And how I maye that waye & meanes fynde Forsothe quod she how euer blowe the wynde Fortune gydeth and ruleth all oure shyppe Whome she hateth shall ouer the see boorde skyp Whome she loueth of all plesyre is ryche Whyles she laughed and hath luste for to playe Whome she hateh she casteth in the dyche For whan she fron̄eth she thynketh to make a fray She cherysshed him and hym she casseth a waye Alas quod I how myghte I haue her sure In fayth quod she by bone auenture Thus in a rowe of martchauntes a grete route Suwed to fortune that she wold be theyre frynde They thronge in fast and flocked her aboute And I with them prayed her to haue in mynde She promysed to vs all she wolde be kynde Of bowge of court she asketh what we wold haue And we asked fauoure / and fauour she vs gaue Thus endeth the prologue . And begynneth the bowge of Courte breuely compyled .
Drede THe sayle is vp fortune ruleth our helme We wante no wynde to passe now ouer all Fauoure we haue toughther than ony elme That wyll abyde and neuer frome vs fall But vnder hony ofte tyme lyeth bytter gall For as me thoughte in our shyppe I dyde see Full subtyll persones in nombre foure and thre The fyrste was Fauell full of flatery Wyth fables false that well coude fayne a tale The seconde was Suspecte whiche that dayly Mysdempte eche man with face deedly & pale And Haruy haster that well coude picke a male With other foure of theyr affynyte Dysdayne . Ryotte . Dyssymuler . Subtylte . Fortune theyr frende with whome oft she dyde daunce They coude not faile thei thought they were so sure And oftentymes I wolde my selfe anaunce With them to make solace and pleasure But my dysporte they coude not well endure They sayde they hated for to dele with Drede Than Fauell gan wyth fayre speche me to fede Fauell . Noo thynge erthely that I wonder so sore As of your connynge that is so excellent Deynte to haue with vs suche one in store So vertuously that hath his dayes spente Fortune to you gyftes of grace hath lente Loo what it is a man to haue connynge All erthly tresoure it is surmountynge Ye be an apte man as ony can be founde To dwell with vs & serue my ladyes g●ace Ye be to her ye a worth a thousande pounde I herde her speke of you within shorte space Whan there were dyuerse that sore dyde you manace And though I say it I was my selfe your frende For here be dyuerse to you that be vnkynde But this one thynge ye maye be sure of me For by that lorde that bought dere all mankynde I can not flater I muste be playne to the And ye nede ought man shewe to me your mynde For ye haue me whome faythfull ye shall fynde Whyles I haue ought by god thou shalt not lacke And yf nede be a bolde worde I dare cracke Nay naye be sure whyles I am on your syde Ye maye not fall truste me ye maye not fayle Ye stonde in fauoure and fortune is your gyde And as she wyll so shall our grete shyppe sayle Thyse lewde cok watt shall neuermore preuayle Ageynste you hardely therfore be not afrayde Fare well tyll soone but no worde that I sayde Drede . Than thanked I hym for his grete gentylnes But as me thoughte he ware on hym a cloke That lyned was with doubtfull doublenes Me thoughte of wordes that he had full a poke His stomak stuffed ofte tymes dyde reboke Suspycyon me thoughte mette hym at a brayde And I drewe nere to herke what they two sayde In fayth qd suspecte ) spake drede no worde of me Why what than wylte thou lete men to speke He sayth he can not well accorde with the Twyst qd suspecte ) goo playe hym I ne reke By cryste qd fauell drede is soleyne freke What lete vs holde him vp man for a whyle Ye soo qd suspecte ) he maye vs bothe begyle And whan he came walkynge soberly Wyth whom / and / ha / and with a croked loke Me thoughte his hede was full of gelousy His eyen rollynge his hondes faste they quoke And to me warde the strayte waye he toke God spede broder to me quod he than And thus to talke with me he began Suspycyon Ye remembre the gentylman ryghte nowe That commaunde with you me thought a party spake Beware of him for I make god auowe He wyll begyle you and speke fayre to your face Ye neuer dwelte in suche an other place For here is none that dare well other truste But I wolde telle you a thynge and I durste Spake he a fayth no worde to you of me I wote and he dyde ye wolde me telle I haue a fauoure to you wherof it be That I muste shewe you moche of my counselle But I wonder what the deuyll of helle He sayde of me whan he with you dyde talke By myne auyse vse not with him to walke The soueraynst thynge that ony man maye haue Is lytyll to saye / and moche to here and see For but I trusted you so god me saue I wolde noo thynge so playne be To you oonly me thynke I durste shryue me For now am I plenarely dysposed To shewe you thynges that may not be disclosed Drede Than I assured hym my fydelyte His counseyle secrete neuer to dysture Yf he coude fynde in herte to truste me Els I prayed hym with all my besy cure To kepe it hymselfe for than he myghte be sure That noo wan erthly coude hym bewreye Whyles of his mynde it were lockte with the keye By god quod he this and thus it is And of his mynde he shewed me all and some Fare well quod hewe wyll talke more of this Soo he departed there he wolde be come I dare not speke I promysed to be dome But as I stode musynge in my mynde Haruy haster came lepynge lyghte as lynde Vpon his breste he bare a versynge boxe His throte was clere and lustely coude fayne My thoughte his gowne was all furred wyth foxe And euer he sange / sythe I am no thynge playne To kepe him frome pykynge it was a grete payne He gased on me with his gotyshe berde Whan I loked on hym my purse was half aferde Heruy haster . Syr god you saue why loke ye so sadde What thynge is that I maye do for you A wonder thynge that ye waxe not madde For and I studye sholde as ye doo nowe My wytte wolde waste I make god auowe Tell me your mynde me thynke ye make a verse I coude it stan and ye wolde it reherse But to the poynte shortely to procede Where hathe your dwellynge ben er ye cam here For as I trowe I haue sene you in dede Er this whan that ye made me Royall chere Holde vp the helme loke vp & lete god stere I wolde be mery what wynde that euer blowe Heue & how rombelow row the bote norman rowe Prynces of youghte can ye synge by rote Or shall I sayle wyth you a felashyp assaye For on the booke can not synge a note Wolde to god it wolde please you some daye A balade boke before me for to laye And lerne me to synge ( Re my fa sol ) And whan I fayle bobbe me on the ●oll Loo what is to you a pleasure grete To haue that connynge & wayes that ye haue By goddis soule I wonder how ye gete Soo greate pleasyre or who to you it gaue Syr pardone me I am an homely knaue To be with you thus perte and thus bolde But ye be welcome to our housholde And I dare saye there is no man here Inne But wolde be glad of your company I wyste neuer man that so av coude wynne The fauoure that ye haue with my lady I praye to god that it maye neuer dy It is your fortune for to haue that grace As I be saued it is a wonder case For as for me I serued here many a daye And yet vnneth I can haue my lyuynge But I requyre you no worde that I saye For and I knowe ony erthly thynge That is agayne you ye shall haue wetynge And ye be welcome syr so god me saue I hope here after a frende of you to haue Drede . Wyth that as he departed soo fro me Anone ther mette with him as me thoughte A man / but wonderly besene was he He loked hawte he sette eche man at noughte His gawdy garment with storunys was all wrought With Indygnacyon lyned was his hode He frowned as he wolde swere by cockes blode He bote the lyppe he loked passynge coye His face was belymmed as byes had him stounge It was no tyme with him to Iape nor toye Enuye hathe wasted his lyuer and his lounge Hatred by the herte so had hym wrounge That he loked pale as asshes to my syghte Dysdayne I wene his comerous carbes hyghte To heruy haster than he spake of me And I drewe nere to harke what they two sayde Now quod Dysdayne as I shall saued be I haue grete scorne & amryghce euyll apayed Than quod Heruy why arte thou so dysmayde By cryste quod he for it is shame to saye To see Iohan dawes that came but yester daye How he is now taken in conceyte This doctour dawcocke Drede I wene he hyghte By goddis bones but yf we haue som sleyte It is lyke he wyll stonde in our lyghte By god quod Heruy & it so happen myghte Lete vs therfore shortely at a worde Fynde some mene to caste him ouer the borde By him that me boughte than qd Dysdayne I wonder sore he is in suche conceyte Turde qd Haster I wyll the no thynge sayne There muste for hym be layde some prety beyte We tweyne I trowe be not withoute dysceyte Fyrste pycke a quarell & fall oute with hym then And soo outface hym with a carde of ten Forthwith he made on me a prowde assawte With scornfull loke meuyd all in moode He wente aboute to take me in a fawte He frounde he stared he stampped where he stoode I loked on hym I wende he had be woode He set the arme proudly vnder the syde And in this wyse he gan with me to chyde Disdayne . Remembrest thou what thou sayd yester nyght Wylt thou abyde by the wordes agayne By god I haue of the now grete dyspyte I shall the angre ones in euery vayne It is greate scorne to see suche an hayne As thou arte one that cam but yesterdaye With vs olde seruauntes suche maysters to playe I tell the I am of countenaunce What weneste I were . I trowe thou knowe not me By goddis woundes but for dysplesaunce Of my querell soone wolde I venged be But no force I shall ones mete with the Come whan it wyll oppose the I shall What someuer auenture therof fall Trowest thou dreuyll I saye thou gawdy knane That I haue deynte to see the cherysshed thus By goddis syde my sworde thy berde shall shaue Well ones thou shalte be chermed I wus Naye strawe for tales thou shalte not rule vs We be thy betters and so thou shalte vs take Or we shall the oute of thy clothes shake Drede . Wyth that came Ryotte russhynge all at ones A rusty gallande to ragged and to rente And on the borde he whyrled a payre of bones Quater treye dews he clatered as he wente Now haue at all by saynte Thomas of kente And euer he threwe & kyst I wote nere what His here was growen thorowe oute his hat Thenne I behelde how he dysgysed was His hede was heuy for watchynge ouer nyghte His eyen blereed his face shone lyke a glas His gowne so shorte that it ne couer myghte His rumpe he wente so all for somer lyghte His hose was garded wyth a lyste of grene Yet at the knee they were broken I wene His cote was checked with patches rede & blewe Of kyrkeby kendall was his shorte demye And ay he sange in fayth decon thou crewe His elbowe bare he ware his gere so nye His nose a droppynge his lyppes were full drye And by his syde his whynarde & his pouche The deuyll myghte daunce therin for ony crowche Counter he coude ( Olux ) vpon a potte An ●estryche fedder of a capons tayle He set vp fresshely vpon his hat a lofte What reuell route quod he and gan to rayle How ofte he hadde hit Ienet on the tayle Of felyce fetewse dnd lytell prety cate How ofte he knocked at her klycked gate What sholde I tell more of his rebaudrye I was ashamed so to here hym prate He had no pleasure but in harlotrye Ay quod he in the deuylles date What arte thou I sawe the nowe but late Forsothe quod I in this courte I dwell nowe Welcome quod Ryote I make god auwe Ryote . And syr in fayth why comste not vs amonge To make the mery as other felowes done Thou muste swere and stare man aldaye longe And wake all nyghte and slepe tyll it be none Thou mayste not studye or muse on the mone This worlde is no thynge but ete drynke & slepe And thus with vs good company to kepe Plucke vp thyne herte vpon a mery pyne And lete vs laugh a placke or tweyne at nale What the deuyll man myrthe was neuer one What loo man see here of dyce a bale A brydelynge caste for that is in thy male Now haue at all that lyeth vpon the burde Fye on this dyce they be not worth a turde Haue at the hasarde or at the dosen browne Or els I pas a peny to a pounde Now wolde to god thou wolde leye money downe Lorde how that I wolde caste it full rounde Ay in my pouche a buckell I haue founde The armes of calyce I haue no coyne nor crosse I am not happy I renne ay on the losse Now renne muste I to the stewys syde To wete yf malkyn my lem̄an haue gete oughte I lete her to hyre that men maye on her ryde Her harmes easy ferre and nere is soughte By goddis sydes syns I her thyder broughte She hath gote me more money with her tayle Than hath some shyppe that in to bordews sayle Had I as good an hors as she is a mare I durste auenture to Iourney thorugh Fraunce Who rydeth on her he nedeth not to care For she is trussed for to breke a launce It is a curtet that well can wynche & praunce To her wyll I nowe all my pouerte lege And tyll I come haue here is myne hat to plege Drede Gone is this knaue this rybaude foule & leude He ran as fast as euer that he myghte Vnthryftnes in hym may well be shewed For home tyborne groneth both daye and nyghte And as I stode and kyste asyde my syghte Dysdayne I sawe with Dyssymulacyon Standynge in sadde communicacion But there was poyntynge & noddynge with the hede And many wordes sayde in secrete wyse They wandred ay and stode styll in no stede Me thoughte alwaye Dyscymular dyde deuyse Me passynge sore myne herte than gan aryse I dempte & drede theyr talkynge was not good Anone dyscymular came where I stode Than in his hode I sawe there faces tweyne That one was lene & lyke a pyned goost That other loked as he wolde me haue slayne And to mewarde as he gan for to coost Whan that he was euen at me almoost I sawe a knyfe hyd in his one sleue Wheron was wryten this worde myscheue And in his other sleue me thought I sawe A spone of golde full of hony swete To fede a fole and for to preye a dawe And on that sleue these wordes were wrete A false abstracte cometh from a fals concrete His hode was syde his cope was roset graye Thyse were the wordes he to me dyde saye Dyssymulatioy / How do ye mayster ye loke so soberly As I be saued at the dredefull daye It is a perylous vyce this enuy Alas a connynge man ne dwelle maye In no place well but foles with fraye But as for that connyge hath no foo Saue hym that nought can / scrypture sayth soo . I knowe your versu and your lytterkture By that lytel connynge that I haue Ye be malygned sore I you ensure But ye haue crafte your selfe alwaye to saue It is grete scorne to se a mysproude knaue With a clerke that connynge is to prate Lete theym go lowse theym in the deuylles date For all be it that this longe not to me Yet on my backe I bere suche lewde delynge Ryghte now I spake with one I trowe I see But what a strawe I maye not tell all thynge By god I saye there is grete herte brennynge Betwene the persone ye wote of Iou Alas I coude not dele so with a yew I wolde eche man were as playne as I It is a worlde I saye te here of some I hate this faynynge fye vpon it fye A man can not wote where to become I I wys I coude tell but humlery home I dare not speke we be so layde awayte For all our courte is full of dysceyte Now by saynte fraunceys that holy man & frere I hate this wayes agayne you that they take Were I as you I wolde ryde them full nere And by my trouthe but yf an ende they make Yet wyll I saye some wordes for your sake That shall them angre I holde there on a grote For some shall wene be hanged by the throte I haue a stoppynge oyster in my poke Truste me and yf it come to a nede But I am lothe for to reyse a smoke Yf ye coude be otherwyse agrede And so I wolde it were so god me spede For this maye brede to a confusyon Withoute god make a good conclusyon Naye see where yonder stondeth the teder man A flaterynge knaue & false he is god wote The dreuyll stondeth to herken and he can It were more thryft he boughte him a newe cote It wyll not be / his purse is not on flote All that he wereth it is borowed ware His wytte is thynne his hode is threde bare More coude I saye but what this is ynowe A dewe tyll soone we shall speke more of this Ye muste be ruled as I shall tell you howe Amendis maye be of that is now a mys And I am your syr so haue I blys In euery poynte that I can do or saye Gyue me your honde fare well & haue good daye Drede Sodaynly as he departed me fro Came pressynge in one in a wonder araye Er I was ware behynde me he sayde bo Thenne I astonyed of that sodeyne fraye Sterte all at once I lyked no thynge his playe For yf I had not quyckely fledde the touche He had plucte oute the nobles of my pouche He was trussed in a garmente strayte I haue not sene suche an others page For he coude well vpon a casket wayte His hode all pounsed and garded lyke a cage Lyghte lyme fynger he toke none other wage Harken quod he loo here myne honde in thyne To vs welcome thou arte by saynte Quyntyne Disceyte . But by that lorde that is one two and thre I haue an errande to rounde in your ere He tolde me so by god ye maye truste me Parte remembre whan ye were there There I wynked on you / wote ye not where In ( A ) loco I mene iuxta ( B ) Woo is hym that is blynde and maye not see But to here the subtylte and the crafte As I shall tell you yf ye wyll harke agayne And whan I sawe the horsons wolde you hafte To holde myne honde by god I had grete payne For forth wyth there I had him slayne But that I drde mordre wolde come oute Who deleth with shrewes hath nede to loke aboute Drede . And as he roynded thus in myne ere Of false collusyon confetryd by assente Me thoughte I see lewde felawes here and there Came for to slee me of mortall entente And as they came the shypborde faste I hente And thoughte to lepe / and euen with that woke Caughte penne and ynke & wroth this lytyll boke I wolde therwith no man were myscontente Besechynge you that shall it see or rede In euery poynte to be indyfferente Syth all in substaunce of slumbrynge doth procede I wyll not saye it is mater in dede But yet oftyme suche dremes be founde trewe Now constrewe ye what is the resydewe Thus endeth the Bowge of courte .

Enprynted at westmynster By me Wynkyn the worde .