Poetry. John Skelton. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: John Skelton
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
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isbn: 4064066309909
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I wolde not dwell behynde;

      Amonge all other I put myselfe 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,

      Whoos name to tell is dame Saunce-pere;

      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;

      Of golde of tessew the fynest that myghte be,

      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[251] le fortune, que est mauelz et bone!

      And, as I stode redynge this verse myselfe allone,

      Her chyef gentylwoman, Daunger by her name,

      Gaue me a taunte, and sayde I was to blame 70

      To be so perte to prese so proudly vppe:

      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 thé spede,

      What is thy name? and I sayde, it was Drede.

      What mouyd thé, quod she, hydder to come?

      Forsoth, quod I, to bye some of youre ware.

      And with that worde on me she gaue a glome 80

      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,

      Abasshe you not, but hardely be bolde,

      Auaunce yourselfe to aproche and come nere:

      What though our chaffer be neuer so dere,

      Yet I auyse you to speke, for ony drede: 90

      Maystres, quod I, I haue none aquentaunce,

      That wyll for me be medyatoure and mene;

      Pece, quod Desyre, ye speke not worth a bene:

      Yf ye haue not, in fayth I wyll you lene

      A precyous jewell, no rycher in this londe;

      Bone Auenture haue here now in your honde.

      Shyfte now therwith, let see, as ye can,

      In Bowge of Courte cheuysaunce to make; 100

      For I dare saye that there nys erthly man

      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.

      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 and meanes fynde.

      Forsothe, quod she, how euer blowe the wynde, 110

      Fortune gydeth and ruleth all oure shyppe:

      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 120

      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.