But, nevertheless, right good witness Record the Nut-brown Maid: Which from her love, when her to prove She loved but him alone. In order to try her affection, the lover said he was sentenced to die a shameful death, and had to withdraw as an outlaw to the greenwood. SHE-O Lord, what is this world's bliss, That changeth as the moon! My summer's day in lusty May I hear you say, Farewell: Nay, nay, Why say ye so? whither will ye go? HE.-I can believe, it shall you grieve, Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take Why should ye ought, for to make thought? Your labour were in vain. And thus I do, and pray to you, As heartily as I can ; For I must to the greenwood go, SHE-Now sith that ye have shewed to me I will not live behind; Shall never be said, the Nut-brown Maid HE-Yet take good heed, for ever I dread That ye could not sustain The thorny ways, the deep valleys, But a brake-bush or twain; Which soon should grieve you, I believe; That I had to the greenwood gone The Maid still maintains her constancy, on which the lover says he has 'purveyed' him of a maid whom he loves better than her, but even this does not shake her faith, and then the noble youth discloses himself to his faithful mistress. HE.--Mine own dear love, I see thee prove Of maid and wife, in all my life, Be merry and glad; no more be sad; For it were ruth, that, for your truth, Ye should have cause to rue. Be not dismayed; whatever I said I will not to the greenwood go, I am no banished man. SHE. These tidings be more glad to me If I were sure they would endure: When men will break promise, they speak Ye shape some wile me to beguile, Than were the case worse than it was, And I more woe-begone; For, in my mind, of all mankind HE.-Ye shall not need further to dread: You (God defend !), sith ye descend Now understand; to Westmoreland, I will you bring; and with a ring, I will you take, and lady make, Thus have ye won an earl's son, And not a banished man. The Gaberlunzie-Man. By tradition, assigned to James V. (1512-42), and supposed to describe one of his own roving adventures. The gaberlunzie was a travelling beggar, pedler, or tinker. The English reader acquainted with the works of Burns will have no difficulty with the Scottish words in this humorous descriptive ballad. The pawky auld carl came o'er the lea, Will ye lodge a silly poor man?' 'O wow!' quo' he, 'were I as free And I wad never think lang.' When wooing they were sae thrang. 'And O!' quo' he, and ye were as black And awa wi' thee I'd gang.' And awa wi' thee I'd gang.' And fast to the bent are they gane. To speir for the silly poor man. She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay; Some ran to coffer, and some to kist, I have lodged a leal poor man. 'Since nathing's awa, as we can learn, 'She's aff wi' the Gaberlunzie-man!' 'O fie gar ride, and fie gar rin, Meantime, far hind out owre the lea, Cut frae a new cheese a whang. The prieving was good, it pleased them baith; 'O ken'd my minny I were wi' you, After the Gaberlunzie-man.' 'My dear,' quod he, 'ye're yet owre young, And carry the Gaberlunzie on. 'Wi' kauk and keel I'll win your bread, And spinnels and whorls for them wha need, Whilk is a gentle trade indeed, To carry the Gaberlunzie on. I'll bow my leg and crook my knee, An' draw a black clout owre my e'e, A cripple or blind they will ca' me, While we will sing and be merrie.' PROSE LITERATURE. SIR JOHN FORTESCUE. The first prose writer of eminence after Mandeville and Wycliffe was SIR JOHN FORTESCUE, Chief-justice of the King's Bench under Henry VI. and a constant adherent of the fortunes of that monarch. He flourished between the years 1430 and 1480. Besides several Latin tracts, Chiefjustice Fortescue wrote one in the English language, entitled The Difference between an Absolute and Limited Monarchy as it more particularly regards the English Constitution, in which he draws a striking, though perhaps exaggerated contrast between the condition of the French under an arbitrary monarch, and that of his own countrymen, who even then possessed considerable privileges as subjects. The French he describes as borne down by public burdens. 'They drink water, they eat apples, with bread, right brown, made of rye. They eat no flesh, but if it be seldom a little lard, or of the entrails or heads of beasts slain for the nobles and merchants of the land. They wear no woollen, but if it be a poor coat under their uttermost garment, made of great canvas, and passen not their knee; wherefore they be gartered and their thighs bare. Their wives and children gone barefoot.' And this, he exclaims, is the fruit of the French king's jus regale! Sir John is said to have died in 1485, aged 90, English Courage. Original spelling.-It is cowardise and lack of hartes and corage that kepith the Frenchmen from rysyng, and not povertye; which corage no Frenche man hath like to the English man. It hath ben often seen in Englond that iij or iv thefes, for povertie, hath sett upon vij or viij true men, and robbyd them al. But it hath not ben seen in Fraunce that vij or viij thefes have ben hardy to robbe iij or iv true men. It is cowardice and lack of hearts and courage that keepeth the Frenchmen from rising, and not poverty; which courage no Frenchman hath like to the Englishman. It hath been often seen in England that three or four thieves, for poverty, hath set upon seven or eight true men, and robbed them all. But it hath not been seen in France that seven or eight thieves have been hardy to rob three or four true men. Wherefore it is right seld that Frenchmen be hanged for robbery, for that they have no hearts to do so terrible an act. There be therefore mo men hanged in England, in a year, for robbery and manslaughter, than there be hanged in France for such cause of crime in seven years. There is no man hanged in Scotland in seven years together for robbery, and yet they be oftentimes hanged for larceny, and stealing of goods in the absence of the owner thereof; but their hearts serve them not to take a man's goods while he is present and will defend it; which manner of taking is called robbery. But the Englishman be of another courage; for if he be poor, and see another man having riches which may be taken from him by might, he wol not spare to do so, but if [unless] that poor man be right true. Wherefore it is not poverty, but it is lack of heart and cowardice that keepeth the Frenchmen from rising. What Harm would come to England if the Commons thereof were Poor. Some men have said that it were good for the king that the commons of England were made poor, as be the commons of France. For then they would not rebel, as now they done oftentimes, which the commons of France do not, nor may do; for they have no weapon, nor armour, nor good to buy it withal. To these manner of men may be said, with the philosopher, Ad parva respicientes, de facili enunciant; that is to say, they that seen few things woll soon say their advice. Forsooth those folks consideren little the good of the realm, whereof the might most stondeth upon archers, which be no rich men. And if they were made poorer than they be, they should not have wherewith to buy them bows, arrows, jacks, or any other armour of defence, whereby they might be able to resist our enemies when they list to come upon us, which they may do on every side, considering that we be an island; and, as it is said before, we may not have soon succours of any other realm. if we be mighty of ourself, which might stondeth most Wherefore we should be a prey to all other enemies, but upon our poor archers; and therefore they needen not only to have such habiliments as now is spoken of, but also they needen to be much exercised in shooting, which may not be done without right great expenses, as every man expert therein knoweth right well. Wherefore the making poor of the commons, which is the making poor of our archers, should be the destruction of the greatest might of our realm. Item, if poor men may not lightly rise, as is the opinion of those men, which for that cause would have the commons poor; how then, if a mighty man made a rising, should he be repressed, when all the not fight, and by that reason not help the king with commons be so poor, that after such opinion they may fighting? And why maketh the king the commons to be every year mustered, sithen it was good they had no harness, nor were able to fight? Oh, how unwise is the opinion of these men ; for may not be maintained by any reason! Item, when any rising hath been made in this land, before these days by commons, the poorest men thereof hath been the greatest causers and doers therein. And thrifty men have been loth thereto, for dread of losing of their goods, yet oftentimes they have gone with them through menaces, or else the same poor men would have taken their goods; wherein it seemeth that poverty hath been the whole and chief cause of all such rising. The poor man hath been stirred thereto by occasion of his poverty for to get good; and the rich men have gone with them because they wold not be poor by losing of their goods. What then would fall, if all the commons were poor? BISHOP PECOCK. REYNOLD PECOCK, successively bishop of St Asaph and Chichester, wrote a number of treatises chiefly controversial, and though opposing the Lollards, his free and liberal style of comment led to his being accused of heresy. In consequence of this, Pecock had to recant what he had written, and to burn fourteen of his own books! The main ground of offence was his arguing that in matters of faith the church was not infallible. The most remarkable of Pecock's English works is entitled The Repressor, 1449. He was about the last of the writers of that age who used the pronouns hem and her for them and their. SIR THOMAS MALORY. A compilation of some of the most popular of the romances relating to King Arthur was printed by Caxton in 1485. In a preface to the work, Caxton states that SIR THOMAS MALORY took it out of certain books in French, and reduced it into English. Malory himself states that he finished his task in the ninth year of King Edward IV. (1469). The title of the work, as given by Caxton, is The Byrth, Lyfe, and Actes of Kyng Arthur, of his noble Knyghtes of the Rounde Table, &c. A reprint of the work, with introduction and notes by Southey, was published in 1817, and a popular edition, revised for modern use by Sir Edward Strachey, in 1868. The style of Malory's translation is free and spirited, shewing a greater command of English than any of his predecessors. The Death of Sir Lancelot. Then Sir Lancelot, ever after, eat but little meat, nor drank, but continually mourned until he was dead; and then he sickened more and more, and dried and dwindled away. For the bishop, nor none of his fellows, might not make him to eat, and little he drank, that he was soon waxed shorter by a cubit than he was, that the people could not know him. For evermore day and night he prayed [taking no rest], but needfully as nature required; sometimes he slumbered a broken sleep; and always he was lying grovelling upon King Arthur's and Queen Guenever's tomb; and there was no comfort that the bishop, nor Sir Bors, not none of all his fellows could make him; it availed nothing. Oh! ye mighty and pompous lords, winning in the glorious transitory of this unstable life, as in reigning over great realms and mighty great countries, fortified with strong castles and towers, edified with many a rich city; yea also, ye fierce and mighty knights, so valiant in adventurous deeds of arms, behold! behold! see how this mighty conqueror, King Arthur, whom in his human life all the world doubted, yea also the noble Queen Guenever, which sometime sat in her chair adorned with gold, pearls, and precious stones, now lie full low in 1 Dreaded (held as redoutable). obscure foss, or pit, covered with clods of earth and clay! Behold also this mighty champion, Sir Lancelot, peerless of all knighthood; see now how he lieth grovelling upon the cold mould; now being so feeble and faint, that sometime was so terrible: how, and in what manner, ought ye to be so desirous of worldly honour so dangerous? Therefore, me thinketh this present book is right necessary often to be read; for in all ye find the most gracious, knightly, and virtuous war, of the most noble knights of the world, whereby they got praising continually; also me seemeth, by the oft reading thereof, ye shall greatly desire to accustom yourself in following of those gracious knightly deeds; that is to say, to dread God and to love righteousness, faithfully and courageously to serve your sovereign prince; and, the more that God hath given you the triumphal honour, the meeker ought ye to be, ever fearing the unstableness of this deceitful world. And so, within fifteen days, they came to Joyous Guard, and there they laid his corpse in the body of the quire, and sung and read many psalters and prayers over him and about him; and even his visage was laid open and naked, that all folk might behold him. For such was the custom in those days, that all men of worship should so lie with open visage till that they were buried. And right thus as they were at their service there came Sir Ector de Maris, that had sought seven years all England, Scotland, and Wales, seeking his brother Sir Lancelot.. And then Sir Ector threw his shield, his sword, and his helm from him; and when he beheld Sir Lancelot's visage, he fell down in a swoon; and, when he awoke, it were hard for any tongue to tell the doleful complaints that he made for his brother. Ah, Sir Lancelot,' said he, 'thou wert head of all Christian knights.'' And now, I daresay,' said Sir Bors, 'that Sir Lancelot, there thou liest, thou wert never matched of none earthly knight's hands. And thou wert the courtliest knight that ever bare shield; and thou wert the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou wert the and thou wert the kindest man that ever stroke with truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman; Sword; and thou wert the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights; and thou wert the meekest man, and the gentlest, that ever eat in hall among ladies; and thou wert the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in rest.' WILLIAM CAXTON. WILLIAM CAXTON, the venerated father of English printing, was born in Kent about 1412. While acting as an agent for English merchants in Holland, he made himself master of the art of printing, then recently introduced on the continent; and, having translated a French book, styled The Recuyell of the Histories of Troye, he printed it at Ghent, in 1471, being the first book in the English language ever put to the press. In a note to this publication, Caxton says: all the bodie, and also because I have promised divers Forasmuch as age creepeth on me daily, and feebleth gentlemen, and to my friends, to address to them, as hastily as I might, this said book, therefore I have pracordain this said book in print, after the manner and form tised and learned, at my great charge and dispence, to as ye may here see, and is not written with pen and ink, them at once, for all the books of this story, named The as other books ben, to the end that all men may have Recule of the Historeys of Troyes, thus emprinted, as ye here see, were begun in one day, and also finished in one day. Afterwards he established a printing-office at Westminster, and in 1474 produced The Game of 1 It? Chess, which was the first book printed in Britain. Caxton translated or wrote about sixty different books, all of which went through his own press before his death in 1491. About forty-four of these are in the British Museum. Caxton gave a prose translation of the Eneid, having met with a French version of the original. In his Proeme he speaks of the Eneid, as Pope observes, as of a book hardly known. Caxton's Account of Virgil. Happened that to my hande came a lytyl book in Frenche, which late was translated out of Latyn by some noble clerk of Fraunce, whiche booke is named Eneydos (made in Latyn by that noble poete and grete clerk Vyrgyle), whiche booke I sawe over and redde therein: How after the generall destruccyon of the grete Troy, Eneas departed berynge his old fader Anchises upon his sholders, his lytyl son Yolas on his hande, his wyfe with moche other people followynge, and how he shipped and departed; wythe all the storye of his adventures that he had er he cam to the atchievement of his conquest of Ytaly, as all alonge shall be shewed in this present booke. In whiche booke I had grete playsyr, by cause of the fayr and honest termes and wordes in Frenche, whiche I never sawe to fore lyke, ne none so playsant ne so well ordred; whiche booke, as me semed shold be moch requysite to noble men to see, as wel for the eloquence as the hystoryes. How wel that many hondred yerys passed was the sayd booke of Eneydos wyth other workes made and lerned dayly in scolis, especially in Ytaly and other places, which historye the sayd Vyrgyle made in metre. The following passage is extracted (the spelling modernised) from the conclusion of Caxton's translation of The Golden Legend: Legend of St Francis. Francis, servant and friend of Almighty God, was born in the city of Assyse, and was made a merchant unto the twenty-fifth year of his age, and wasted his time by living vainly, whom our Lord corrected by the scourge of sickness, and suddenly changed him into another man; so that he began to shine by the spirit of prophecy. On a time as this holy man was in prayer, the devil called him thrice by his own name. And when the holy man had answered him, he said: 'None in this world is so great a sinner, but if he convert him, our Lord would pardon him; but who that sleeth himself with hard penance, shall never find mercy. And anon, this holy man knew by revelation the fallacy and deceit of the fiend, how he would have withdrawn him fro to do well. And when the devil saw that he might not prevail against him, he tempted him by grievous temptation of the flesh. And when this holy servant of God felt that, he despoiled his clothes, and beat himself right hard with an hard cord, saying: 'Thus, brother ass, it behoveth thee to remain and to be beaten.' And when the temptation departed not, he went out and plunged himself in the snow, all naked, and made seven great balls of snow, and purposed to have taken them into " his body, and said: "This greatest is thy wife; and these four, two ben thy daughters, and two thy sons; and the other twain, that one thy chambrere, and that other thy varlet or yeman: haste and clothe them; for they all die for cold. And if thy business that thou hast about them, grieve ye sore, then serve our Lord perfectly.' And anon, the devil departed from him all confused; and St Francis returned again unto his cell glorifying God. He was ennobled in his life by many miracles; and the very death, which is to all men horrible and hateful, he admonished them to praise it. And also he warned and admonished death to come to him, and said: 'Death, my sister, welcome be you.' And when he came at the last hour, he slept in our Lord; of whom a friar saw the soul, in manner of a star, like to the moon in quantity, and the sun in clearness. ENGLISH CHRONICLERS-FABIAN AND HALL. ROBERT FABIAN and EDWARD HALL may be regarded as the first writers in English history or chronicles. They aimed at no literary excellence, nor at any arrangement calculated to make their Their sole object was to writings attractive. narrate minutely, and as far as their opportunities allowed, faithfully, the events of the history of their country; and it must be admitted that to their diligence we are indebted for the preservation of many curious facts and illustrations of manners, which would have otherwise been lost. Fabian, who was an alderman and sheriff of London, and died in 1512, wrote a general chronicle of English history, which he called The Concordance of Stories, and which has been several times printed-the last time in 1811, under the care of Sir Henry Ellis. It is particularly minute with regard to what would probably appear the most important of all things to the worthy alderman, the succession of officers of all kinds serving in the city of London; and amongst other events of the reign of Henry V. the author does not omit to note that a new weather-cock was placed on the top of St Paul's steeple. Fabian repeats all the fabulous stories of early English history which had first been circulated by Geoffrey of Monmouth. Hall was a lawyer and a judge in the sheriff's court of London, and died at an advanced age in 1547. He compiled a copious chronicle of English history during the reigns of the Houses of Lancaster and York, and those of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. which was first printed by Grafton in 1548, under the title of The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Families of Lancastre and Yorke, with all the Actes done in both the Tymes of the Princes, both of the one Linage and the other, &c. Hall is very minute in his notices of the fashions of the time: altogether, his work is of a superior character to that of Fabian, as might perhaps be expected from his better education and condition in life. Considered as the only compilations of English history at the command of the wits of Elizabeth's reign, and as furnishing the foundations of many scenes, and even whole plays, by the most illustrious of the dramatists, the Chronicles have a value in our eyes beyond that which would otherwise belong to them. and poetry: Fabian thus relates an event famous in history Jack Cade's Insurrection. Original spelling.-And in the moneth of Juny this yere, the comons of Kent assemblyd them in grete multytude, and chase to them a capitayne, and named hym Mortymer, and cosyn to the kepte the people wondrouslie togader, &c. Duke of Yorke; but of moste he was named Jack Cade. This And in the month of June this year [1450], the commons of Kent assembled them in great multitude, and chose to them a Captain, and named him Mortimer, and cousin to the Duke of York; but of most he was named Jack Cade. This kept the people wondrously together, and made such ordinances among them that he brought a great number of people of them unto the Black Heath, where he devised a bill of petitions to the king and his council, and shewed therein what injuries and oppressions the poor commons suffered by such as were about the king, a few persons in number, and all under colour to come to his above. The king's council, seeing this bill, disallowed it, and counselled the king, which by the 7th day of June had gathered to him a strong host of people, to go again' his rebels, and to give unto them battle. Then the king, after the said rebels had holden their field upon Black Heath seven days, made toward them. Whereof hearing, the Captain drew back with his people to a village called Sevenoaks, and there embattled. Then it was agreed by the king's council that Sir Humphrey Stafford, knight, with William his brother, and other certain gentlemen, should follow the chase, and the king with his lords should return unto Greenwich, weening to them that the rebels were fled and gone. But, as before I have shewed, when Sir Humphrey with his company drew near unto Sevenoaks, he was warned of the Captain that there abode with his people. And when he had counselled with the other gentlemen, he, like a manful knight, set upon the rebels, and fought with them long; but in the end, the Captain slew him and his brother, with many other, and caused the rest to give back. All which season, the king's host lay still upon Black Heath, being among them sundry opinions; so that some and many favoured the Captain. But, finally, when word came of the overthrow of the Staffords, they said plainly and boldly that, except the Lord Saye and other before rehearsed were committed to ward, they would take the Captain's party. For the appeasing of which rumour the Lord Saye was put into the Tower; but that other as then were not at hand. Then the king, having knowledge of the scomfiture of his men, and also of the rumour of his hosting people, removed from Greenwich to London, and there with his host rested him a while. And so soon as Jack Cade had thus overcome the Staffords, he anon apparelled him with the knight's apparel, and did on him his bryganders set with gilt nails, and his salet and gilt spurs; and after he had refreshed his people, he returned again to Black Heath, and there pight again his field, as heretofore he had done, and lay there from the 29th day of June, being St Peter's day, till the first day of July. In which season came unto him the archbishop of Canterbury and the Duke of Buckingham, with whom they had long communication, and found him right discreet in his answers: howbeit they could not cause him to lay down his people, and to submit him unto the king's grace. In this while, the king and the queen, hearing of the increasing of his rebels, and also the lords fearing their own servants, lest they would take the Captain's party, removed from London to Killingworth, leaving the city without aid, except only the Lord Scales, which was left to keep the Tower, and with him a manly and warly man named Matthew Gowth. Then the Captain of Kent thus hoving at Black Heath, to the end to blind the more the people, and to bring him in fame that he kept good justice, beheaded there a petty captain of his, named Paris, for so much as he had offended again' such ordinance as he had stablished in his host. And hearing that the king and all his lords were thus departed, drew him near unto the city, so that upon the first day of July he entered the borough of Southwark, being then Wednesday, and lodged him there that night, for he might not be suffered to enter that city.. And the same afternoon, about five of the clock, the Captain with his people entered by the bridge; and when he came upon the drawbridge, he hewed the ropes that drew the bridge in sunder with his sword, and so passed into the city, and made in sundry places thereof proclamations in the king's name, that no man, upon pain of death, should rob or take anything per force without paying therefor. By reason whereof he won many hearts of the commons of the city; but all was done to beguile the people, as after shall evidently appear. He rode through divers streets of the city, and as he came by London Stone, he strake it with his sword, and said: 'Now is Mortimer lord of this city.' And when he had thus shewed himself in divers places of the city, and shewed his mind to the mayor for the ordering of his people, he returned into Southwark, and there abode as he before had done; his people coming and going at lawful hours when they would. Then upon the morn, being the third day of July, and Friday, the said Captain entered again the city, and caused the Lord Saye to be fette1 from the Tower, and led into the Guildhall, where he was arraigned before the mayor and other of the king's justices. Then the Lord Saye desired that he might be judged by his peers. Whereof hearing, the Captain sent a company of his unto the hall, the which per force took him from his officers, and so brought him unto the standard in Cheap, where, or he were half shriven, they strake off his head; and that done, pight it upon a long pole, and so bare it about with them. In this time and season had the Captain caused a gentleman to be taken, named William Crowmer, which before had been sheriff of Kent, and used, as they said, some extortions. For which cause, or for he had favoured the Lord Saye, by reason that he had married his daughter, he was hurried to Miles End, and there, in the Captain's presence, beheaded. And the same time was there also beheaded another man, called Baillie, the cause of whose death was this, as I have heard some men report. This Baillie was of the familiar and old acquaintance of Jack Cade, wherefore, so soon as he espied him coming to him-ward, he cast in his mind that he would discover his living and old manners, and shew off his vile kin and lineage. Wherefore, knowing that the said Baillie used to bear scrows,3 and prophesy about him, shewing to his company that he was an enchanter and of ill disposition, and that they should well know by such books as he bare upon him, and bade them search, and if they found not as he said, that then they should put him to death, which all was done according to his commandment. When they had thus beheaded these two men, they took the head of Crowmer, and pight it upon a pole, and so entered again the city with the heads of the Lord Saye and of Crowmer; and as they passed the streets, joined the poles together, and caused either dead mouth to kiss other diverse and many times. Then toward night he returned into Southwark, and upon the morn re-entered the city, and dined that day at a place in St Margaret Patyn parish, called Gherstis House; and when he had dined, like an uncurteous guest, robbed him, as the day before he had Malpas. For which two robberies, albeit that the porail and needy people drew unto him, and were partners of that ill, the honest and thrifty commoners cast in their minds the sequel of this matter, and feared lest they should be dealt with in like manner, by means whereof he lost the people's favour and hearts. For it was to be thought, if he had not executed that robbery, he might have gone fair and brought his purpose to good effect, if he had intended well; but it is to deem and presuppose that the intent of him was not good, wherefore it might not come to any good conclusion. Then, upon the fifth day of July, the Captain being in Southwark, caused a man to be beheaded, for cause of displeasure to him done, as the fame went; and so he kept him in Southwark all that day; howbeit he might have entered the city if he had wold. And when night was coming, the mayor and citizens, with Matthew Gowth, like to their former appointment, kept the passage of the bridge, being Sunday, and 3 Scrolls of paper. |