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

Автор: John Skelton
Издательство: Bookwire
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isbn: 4064066309909
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it into[501] a tray

      Whereas the yeest is,

      With her maungy fystis: 200

      And somtyme she blennes

      The donge of her hennes

      And the ale together;

      And sayeth, Gossyp, come hyther,

      This ale shal be thycker,

      And flowre the more quicker;

      For I may tell you,

      I lerned it of a Jewe,

      Whan I began to brewe,

      And I haue founde it trew; 210

      Drinke now whyle it is new;

      And ye may it broke,

      It shall make you loke

      Yonger than ye be

      Yeres two or thre,

      For ye may proue it by me;

      Beholde, she sayde, and se

      How bryght I am of ble!

      Ich am not cast away,

      That can my husband say, 220

      Whan we kys and play

      In lust and in lykyng;

      He calleth me his whytyng,

      His mullyng and his mytyng,[502]

      His nobbes and his conny,

      His swetyng and his honny,

      With, Bas, my prety bonny,

      Thou art worth good and monny.

      This make I my falyre fonny,[503]

      Til that he dreme and dronny; 230

      For, after all our sport,

      Than wyll he rout and snort;

      Than swetely together we ly,

      As two pygges in a sty.

      To cease me semeth best,

      And of this tale to rest,

      And for to leue this letter,

      Because it is no better,

      And because it is no swetter;

      We wyll no farther ryme 240

      Of it at this tyme;

      But we wyll turne playne

      Where we left agayne.

       Tertius passus.

      Instede of coyne and monny,[504]

      Some brynge her a conny,

      And some a pot with honny,

      Some a salt, and some a spone,

      Some theyr hose, some theyr shone;

      Some ran[505] a good trot

      With a skellet or a pot; 250

      Some fyll theyr pot full

      Of good Lemster woll:

      An huswyfe of trust,

      Whan she is athrust,

      Suche a webbe can spyn,

      Her thryft is full thyn.

      Some go streyght thyder,

      Be it slaty or slyder;

      They holde the hye waye,

      They care not what men say, 260

      Be that as be maye;

      Some, lothe to be espyde,

      Start[506] in at the backe syde,

      Ouer the hedge and pale,

      And all for the good ale.

      Some renne tyll they swete,

      Brynge wyth them malte or whete,

      And dame Elynour entrete

      To byrle them of the best.

      Than cometh an other gest; 270

      She swered by the rode of rest,

      Her lyppes are so drye,

      Without drynke she must dye;

      Therefore fyll it by and by,

      And haue here a pecke of ry.

      Anone cometh another,

      As drye as the other,

      And wyth her doth brynge

      Mele, salte, or other thynge,

      Her haruest[507] gyrdle, her weddynge rynge, 280

      To pay for her scot

      As cometh to her lot.

      Som bryngeth her husbandes hood,

      Because the ale is good;

      Another brought her his cap

      To offer to the ale tap,

      Wyth flaxe and wyth towe;

      And some brought sowre dowe;

      Wyth, Hey, and wyth, howe,

      Syt we downe a rowe, 290

      And drynke tyll we blowe,

      And pype tyrly tyrlowe!

      Some layde to pledge

      Theyr hatchet and theyr wedge,

      Theyr hekell and theyr rele,

      Theyr rocke, theyr spynnyng whele;

      And some went so narrowe,

      They layde to pledge theyr wharrowe,

      Theyr rybskyn and theyr spyndell,

      Theyr nedell and theyr thymbell: 300

      Here was scant thryft

      Whan they made suche shyft.

      Theyr thrust was so great,

      They asked neuer for mete,

      But drynke, styll drynke,

      And let the cat wynke,

      Let vs washe our gommes

      From the drye crommes.

       Quartus passus.

      Some for very nede

      Layde[508] downe a skeyne of threde, 310

      And some a skeyne of yarne;

      Some brought[509] from the barne

      Both benes and pease;

      Small chaffer doth ease

      Sometyme, now and than:

      Another there was that ran

      With a good brasse