They wander'd ay and stood still in no stead;
Methought alway Dissimular did devise:
Me passing, sore my heart then gan arise,
I deem'd and dred their talking was not good,
Anon Dissimular came where I stood.
Then in his hood I saw there faces twain,
That one was lean and like a pined ghost,
That other looked as he would me have slain,
And to-me-ward as he gan for to coast,
When that he was even at me almost,
I saw a knife hid in his one sleeve,
Whereon was written this word, mischief.
And in his other sleeve, methought I saw
A spoon of gold, full of hony sweet,
To feed a fool, and for to prey a daw;
And on that sleeve these wordes were wrote:
A false abstract cometh from a false concrete;
His hood was side his cope, was russet grey,
These were the words that he to me did say."
Our next extract shall be the beginning of "The Tunning of Eleanour Rumming," which is in Skelton's peculiar stylea style which is now generally described as Skeltonizing:
"Tell you I chill,
If that ye will
Awhile be still,
Of a comely gill
That dwelt on a hill,
But she is not grill; (girl)
For she is somewhat sage,
And well worn in age;
And her visage
It would asswage
A man's courage.
Her lothely lere
Is nothing clear,
But ugly of cheer.
Droupy and drowsy,
Scurvy and lousy,
Her face all bowsy;
Comely crinkled,
Wondrously wrinkled,
Like a roast pig's ear
Bristled with hair.
Her lewd lips twain
They slaver, men sayne,
Like a roopy raine,
Or a gummy glare:
She is ugly fair,
Her nose some deal hooked,
And camously crooked,
Never stopping,
But ever dropping;
Her skin loose and slack,
Grained like a sack,
With a crooked back.
Her eyn gowndy
Are full unsoundy,
For they are bleared,
And she gray-haired,
Jawed like a jetty,
A man would have pity
To see how she is gumm'd,
Finger'd and thumb'd,
Gently jointed,
Greased and anointed
Up to the knuckles,
The bones her buckles
Together made fast;
Her youth is far past:
Footed like a plane,
Legs like a crane,
And yet she will jet,
Like a jolly set,
In her furred flocket,
And gray russet rocket,
With Simper the cocket,
Her huke of Lincoln green,
It had been hers, I ween,
More than forty year,
And so it doth appear,
And the green bare threads
Look like sere weeds, (dry)
Withered like hay,
The wool worn away,
And yet, I dare say,
She thinketh herself gay,
Upon the holy day,
When she doth her array:
And girdeth in her getes,
Stitch'd and pranked with pleates;
Her kirtle Bristow red,
With cloaths upon her head,
That they weigh a sow of lead,
Wrythen in wondrous ways
After the Saracen's guise;
With a whim-wham,
Knit with a trim-tram,
Upon a brain pan,
Like an Egyptian :
Capped about,
When she goeth out
Herself for to shew.
She driveth down the dew
With a pair of heels,
As broad as two wheels:
She hobbles as a goose,
With her blanket hose;
Her shoon smear'd with tallow,
Like her face callow,
Greas'd upon dirt
That bandeth her skirt."
It is in the Why come ye not to Court? that we find the most interesting matter. We get a lively idea of Wolsey's osentatious manner and tyrannical bearing.
Speaking of the French, the satirist says,
"But yet they overshoot us
With crowns and with scutus,
With scutes and crowns of gold,
I dread we are bought and sold;
It is a wonder's warke,
They shoot all at one marke;
At the cardinal's hat,
They shoot all at that,
Out of their strong towns,
They shoot at him with crowns:
With crowns of gold emblas'd,
They make him sore amaz'd,
And his eyn so daz'd,
That he no see can
To know God nor man.
He is set so high,
In his hierarchy,
Of frantick frenezy,
And foolish fantasy,
That in the chamber of stars,
All matters there he mars;
Clapping his rod on the board,
No man dare speak a word,
For he hath all the saying,
Without any renaying.
He rolleth in his records,
He saith, how say ye, my lords?
Is not my reason good,
Good even, good Robin Hood?
Some say, Yes. And some
Sit still as they were dumb;
Thus thwarting over thumb
He ruleth all the roast,
With bragging and with boast;
Borne up on every side
With pomp and with pride,
With tromp up alleluya,
For dame Philargerya
Hath so his heart in hold,
He loveth nothing but gold;
And Asmodeus of hell,
Maketh his members swell,
With Delilah to mel,
That wanton damsel."
He thus goes on in his daring railing against this powerful minister:
"Once yet again,
Of you I would fraine,
Why come ye not to court?
To which court?
To the kinge's court,
Or to Hampton court?
Nay to the kinge's court.
The kinge's court
Should have the excellence,
But Hampton-court
Hath the pre-eminence;
And York's place,
With my lord's grace;
To whose magnificence,
Is all the confluence,
Suits, and supplications,
Embassades of all nations;
Straw for law canon,
Or for the law common,
Or for law civil,
It shall be as he will;
Stop at law tancrete,
An abstract or a concrete;
Be it sour, be it sweet,
His wisdom is so discreet,
That in a fume or an heat,
Warden of the fleet,
Set him fast by the feet,
And of his royal power,
When him list to lour,
Then have him to the Tower,
Have him forth bye and bye,
To the marshalsy,
Or to the King's Bench;
He diggeth so in the trench
Of the court royal,
That he ruleth them all:
So he doth undermind,
And such sleights doth find,
That the king's mind
By him is subverted,
And so straitly coarted (cowred,)
In credencing his tales,
That all is but nut-shales,
That any other saith,
He hath in him such faith.
Now, yet all this might be
Suffer'd and taken in gree,
If that that he wrought
To any good end were brought;
But all he bringeth to nought,
But God that me dear bought.
He beareth the king on hand, That he must pyl his land
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