Court. Ab.Why, is this the gyse nowe adayes?Cl. Col.Ye, for surety, ofte peas is taken for frayes.But, syr, I wyll haue this man with me.Cr. Con.Conuey yourselfe fyrst, let se.Cl. Col.Well, tarry here tyll I for you sende.Cr. Con.Why, shall he be of your bende?Cl. Col.Tary here: wote ye what I say?Court. Ab.I waraunt you, I wyll not go away.Cr. Con.By Saynt Mary, he is a tawle man.830Cl. Col.Ye, and do ryght good seruyce he can;I knowe in hym no defauteBut that the horson is prowde and hawte.And so they[807]go out of the place.Court. Ab.Nay, purchace ye a pardon for the pose,For pryde hath plucked thé by the nose,As well as me: I wolde, and I durste,But nowe I wyll not say the worste.Courtly Abusyonalone in the place.What nowe, let se,Who loketh on meWell rounde aboute,840Howe gay and howe stouteThat I can wereCourtly my gere:My heyre busshethSo plesauntly,My robe russhethSo ruttyngly,Me seme I flye,I am so lyght,To daunce delyght;850Properly drest,All poynte deuyse,My persone prestBeyonde all syseOf the newe gyse,To russhe it outeIn euery route:Beyonde measureMy sleue is wyde,Al of pleasure,860My hose strayte tyde,My buskyn wyde,Ryche to beholde,Gletterynge in golde.AbusyonForsothe I hyght:ConfusyonShall on hym lyght,By day or by nyghtThat vseth me;870He can not thee.A very fon,A very asse,Wyll take vponTo compasseThat neuer wasAbusyd before;A very poreThat so wyll do,He doth abuse880Hym selfe to to,He dothe mysse vseEche man take a fe[808]To crake and prate;I befoule his pate.This newe fonne ietFrom out of FraunceFyrst I dyd set;Made purueaunceAnd suche ordenaunce,890That all men it foundeThrough out Englonde:All this nacyonI set on fyreIn my facyon,This theyr desyre,This newe atyre;This ladyes haue,I it them gaue;Spare for no coste;900And yet in dedeIt is coste losteMoche more than nedeFor to excedeIn suche aray:Howe be it, I say,A carlys sonne,Brought vp of nought,Wyth me wyll wonneWhylyst he hath ought;910He wyll haue wroughtHis gowne so wydeThat he may hydeHis dame and his syreWithin his slyue;Spende all his hyre,That men hym gyue;Wherfore I preue,A Tyborne checkeShall breke his necke.920Here cometh inFansy, craynge, Stow, stow!All is out of harre,And out of trace,Ay warre and warreIn euery place.But what the deuyll art thou,That cryest, Stow, stow?Fan.What, whom haue we here, Jenkyn Joly?Nowe welcom, by the God holy.Court. Ab.What, Fansy, my frende! howe doste thou fare?Fan.By Cryst, as mery as a Marche hare.930Court. Ab.What the deuyll hast thou on thy fyste? an owle?Fan.Nay, it is a farly fowle.Court. Ab.Me thynke she frowneth and lokys sowre.Fan.Torde, man, it is an hawke of the towre:She is made for the malarde fat.Court. Ab.Methynke she is well becked to catche a rat.But nowe what tydynges can you tell, let se.Fan.Mary, I am come for thé.Court. Ab.For me?Fan.Ye, for thé, so I say.940Court. Ab.Howe so? tell me, I thé pray.Fan.Why, harde thou not of the fray,That fell amonge vs this same day?Court. Ab.No, mary, not yet.Fan.What the deuyll, neuer a whyt?Court. Ab.No, by the masse; what sholde I swere?Fan.In faythe, Lyberte is nowe a lusty spere.Court. Ab.Why, vnder whom was he abydynge?Fan.Mary, Mesure had hym a whyle in gydynge,Tyll, as the deuyll wolde, they fell a chydynge950With Crafty Conuayaunce.Court. Ab.Ye, dyd they so?Fan.Ye, by Goddes sacrament, and with other mo.Court. Ab.What neded that, in the dyuyls date?Fan.Yes, yes, he fell with me also at debate.Court. Ab.With thé also? what, he playeth the state?Fan.Ye, but I bade hym pyke out of the gate,By Goddes body, so dyd I.Court. Ab.By the masse, well done and boldely.Fan.Holde thy pease, Measure shall frome vs walke.960Court. Ab.Why, is he crossed than with a chalke?Fan.Crossed! ye, checked out of consayte.Court. Ab.Howe so?Fan.By God, by a praty slyght,As here after thou shalte knowe more:But I must tary here; go thou before.Court. Ab.With whom shall I there mete?Fan.Crafty Conueyaunce standeth in the strete,Euen of purpose for the same.Court. Ab.Ye, but what shall I call my name?970Fan.Cockes harte, tourne thé, let me se thyne aray:Cockes bones, this is all of Johnn de gay.Court. Ab.So I am poynted after my consayte.Fan.Mary, thou iettes it of hyght.Court. Ab.Ye, but of my name let vs be wyse.Fan.Mary, Lusty Pleasure, by myne aduyse,To name thyselfe, come of, it were done.Court. Ab.Farewell, my frende.Fan.Adue, tyll sone.[809]Stowe, byrde, stowe, stowe!980It is best I fede my hawke now.There is many euyll faueryd, and thou be foule;Eche thynge is fayre when it is yonge: all hayle, owle!Lo, this isMy fansy, I wys:Nowe Cryst it blysse!It is, by Jesse,A byrde full swete,For me full mete:She is furred for the hete990All to the fete;Her browys bent,Her eyen glent:Frome Tyne to Trent,From Stroude to Kent,A man shall fyndeMany of her kynde,Howe standeth the wyndeBefore or behynde:Barbyd lyke a nonne,1000For burnynge of the sonne;Her fethers donne;Well faueryd bonne.Nowe, let me se about,In all this rowteYf I can fynde outSo semely a snowteAmonge this prese:Euen a hole mese—Pease, man, pease!1010I rede, we sease.So farly fayre as it lokys,And her becke so comely crokys,Her naylys sharpe as tenter hokys!I haue not kept her yet thre wokys,And howe styll she dothe syt!Teuyt, teuyt, where is my wyt?The deuyll spede whyt!That was before, I set behynde;Nowe to curteys, forthwith vnkynde;1020Somtyme to sober, somtyme to sadde,Somtyme to mery, somtyme to madde;Somtyme I syt as I were solempe prowde;Somtyme I laughe ouer lowde;Somtyme I wepe for a gew gaw;Somtyme I laughe at waggynge of a straw;With a pere my loue you may wynne,And ye may lese it for a pynne.I haue a thynge for to say,And I may tende therto for play;1030But in faythe I am so occupyedOn this halfe and on euery syde,That I wote not where I may rest.Fyrst to tell you what were best,Frantyke Fansy seruyce I hyght;My wyttys be weke, my braynys are lyght:For it is I that other whylePlucke downe lede, and theke with tyle;Nowe I wyll this, and nowe I wyll that;Make a wyndmyll of a mat;1040Nowe I wolde, and I wyst what;Where is my cappe? I haue lost my hat;And within an houre after,Plucke downe an house, and set vp a rafter;Hyder and thyder, I wote not whyder;Do and vndo, bothe togyder;Of a spyndell I wyll make a sparre;All that I make, forthwith I marre;I blunder, I bluster, I blowe, and I blother;I make on the one day, and I marre on the other;1050Bysy, bysy, and euer bysy,I daunce vp and downe tyll I am dyssy;I can fynde fantasyes where none is;I wyll not haue it so, I wyll haue it this.Hic ingrediaturFoly, quatiendo crema[810]et faciendo multum, feriendo tabulas et similia.Fol.Maysters, Cryst saue euerychone!What, Fansy, arte thou here alone?Fan.What, fonnysshe Foly! I befole thy face.Fol.What, frantyke Fansy in a foles case!What is this, an owle or a glede?By my trouthe, she hathe a grete hede.1060Fan.Tusshe, thy lyppes hange in thyne eye:[811]It is a Frenche butterflye.Fol.By my trouthe, I trowe well;But she is lesse a grete deleThan a butterflye of our lande.Fan.What pylde curre ledest thou in thy hande?Fol.A pylde curre!Fan.Ye so, I tell thé, a pylde curre.Fol.Yet I solde his skynne to Mackemurre,In the stede of a budge furre.1070Fan.What, fleyest thou his skynne euery yere?Fol.Yes, in faythe, I thanke God I may here.Fan.What, thou wylte coughe me a dawe for forty pens?Fol.Mary, syr, Cokermowthe is a good way hens.Fan.What? of Cokermowth spake I no worde.Fol.By my faythe, syr, the frubyssher hath my sworde.Fan.A, I trowe, ye shall coughe me a fole.Fol.In faythe, trouthe ye say, we wente togyder to scole.Fan.Ye, but I can somwhat more of the letter.Fol.I wyll not gyue an halfepeny for to chose the better.1080Fan.But, broder Foly, I wonder moche of one thynge,That thou so hye fro me doth sprynge,And I so lytell alway styll.Fol.By God, I can tell thé, and I wyll.Thou art so feble fantastycall,And so braynsyke therwithall,And thy wyt wanderynge here and there,That thou cannyst not growe out of thy boyes gere;And as for me, I take but one folysshe way,And therfore I growe more on one day1090Than thou can in yerys seuen.Fan.In faythe, trouth thou sayst nowe, by God of heuen!For so with fantasyes my wyt dothe flete,That wysdome and I shall seldome mete.Nowe, of good felowshyp, let me by thy dogge.[812]Fol.Cockys harte, thou lyest, I am no hogge.[813]Fan.Here is no man that callyd thé hogge nor swyne.Fol.In faythe, man, my brayne is as good as thyne.Fan.The deuyls torde for thy brayne!Fol.By my syers soule, I fele no rayne.1100Fan.By the masse, I holde thé madde.Fol.Mary, I knewe thé when thou waste a ladde.Fan.Cockys bonys, herde ye euer syke another?Fol.Ye, a fole the tone, and a fole the tother.Fan.Nay, but wotest thou what I do say?Fol.Why, sayst thou that I was here yesterday?Fan.Cockys armys, this is a warke, I trowe.Fol.What, callyst thou me a donnyshe crowe?Fan.Nowe, in good faythe, thou art a fonde gest.Fol.Ye, bere me this strawe to a dawys nest.1110Fan.What, wenyst thou that I were so folysshe and so fonde?Fol.In faythe, ellys is there none in all Englonde.Fan.Yet for my fansy sake, I say,Let me haue thy dogge, what soeuer I pay.Fol.Thou shalte haue my purse, and I wyll haue thyne.Fan.By my trouth, there is myne.Fol.Nowe, by my trouth, man, take, there is myne;[814]And I beshrowe hym that hath the worse.Fan.Torde, I say, what haue I do?Here is nothynge but the bockyll of a sho,1120And in my purse was twenty marke.Fol.Ha, ha, ha! herke, syrs, harke!For all that my name hyght Foly,By the masse, yet art thou more fole than I.Fan.Yet gyue me thy dogge, and I am content;And thou shalte haue my hauke to a botchment.Fol.That euer thou thryue, God it forfende!For Goddes cope thou wyll spende.Nowe take thou my dogge, and gyue me thy fowle.[815]Fan.Hay, chysshe, come hyder!1130Fol.Nay, torde, take hym be tyme.Fan.What callest thou thy dogge?Fol.Tusshe, his name is Gryme.Fan.Come, Gryme, come, Gryme! it is my praty dogges.Fol.In faythe, there is not a better dogge for hogges,Not from Anwyke vnto Aungey.Fan.Ye, but trowest thou that he be not maungey?Fol.No, by my trouthe, it is but the scurfe and the scabbe.Fan.What, he hathe ben hurte with a stabbe?Fol.Nay, in faythe, it was but a strype1140That the horson had for etynge of a trype.Fan.Where the deuyll gate he all these hurtes?Fol.By God, for snatchynge of puddynges and wortes.Fan.What, then he is some good poore mannes curre?Fol.Ye, but he wyll in at euery mannes dore.Fan.Nowe thou hast done me a pleasure grete.Fol.In faythe, I wolde thou had a marmosete.Fan.Cockes harte, I loue suche iapes.Fol.Ye, for all thy mynde is on owles and apes.But I haue thy pultre, and thou hast my catell.1150Fan.Ye, but thryfte and we haue made a batell.Fol.Remembrest thou not the iapes and the toyes—Fan.What, that we vsed whan we were boyes?Fol.Ye, by the rode, euen the same.Fan.Yes, yes, I am yet as full of gameAs euer I was, and as full of tryfyls,Nil, nihilum, nihil, anglicenyfyls.Fol.What canest thou all this Latyn[816]yet,And hath so mased a wandrynge wyt?Fan.Tushe, man, I kepe some Latyn in store.1160Fol.By Cockes harte, I wene thou hast no more.Fan.No? yes, in faythe, I can versyfy.Fol.Then, I pray thé hartely,Make a verse of my butterfly;It forseth not of the reason, so it kepe ryme.Fan.But wylte thou make another on Gryme?Fol.Nay, in fayth, fyrst let me here thyne.Fan.Mary, as for that, thou shalte sone here myne:Est snavi[817]snagowith a shrewde facevilis imago.Fol.Grimbaldus gredy, snatche a puddyng tyl the rost be redy.1170Fan.By the harte of God, well done!Fol.Ye, so redely and so sone!Here cometh inCrafty Conueyaunce.Cr. Con.What, Fansy! Let me se who is the tother.Fan.By God, syr, Foly, myne owne sworne brother.Cr. Con.Cockys bonys, it is a farle freke:Can he play well at the hoddypeke?Fan.Tell by thy trouth what sport can thou make.Fol.A, holde thy peas; I haue the tothe ake.Cr. Con.The tothe ake! lo, a torde ye haue.Fol.Ye, thou haste the four quarters of a knaue.1180Cr. Con.Wotyst thou, I say, to whom thou spekys?Fan.Nay, by Cockys harte, he ne reckys,For he wyll speke to Magnyfycence thus.Cr. Con.Cockys armys, a mete man for vs.Fol.What, wolde ye haue mo folys, and are so many?Fan.Nay, offer hym a counter in stede of a peny.Cr. Con.Why, thynkys thou he can no better skyll?Fol.In fayth, I can make you bothe folys, and I wyll.Cr. Con.What haste thou on thy fyst? a kesteryll?[818]Fol.Nay, I wys, fole, it is a doteryll.1190Cr. Con.In a cote thou can play well the dyser.Fol.Ye, but thou can play the fole without a vyser.Fan.Howe rode he by you? howe put he to you?[819]Cr. Con.Mary, as thou sayst, he gaue me a blurre.But where gatte thou that mangey curre?Fan.Mary, it was his, and nowe it is myne.Cr. Con.And was it his, and nowe it is thyne?Thou must haue thy fansy and thy wyll,But yet thou shalt holde me a fole styll.Fol.Why, wenyst thou that I cannot make thé play the fon?1200Fan.Yes, by my faythe, good Syr Johnn.Cr. Con.For you bothe it were inough.Fol.Why, wenyst thou that I were as moche a fole as thou?Fan.Nay, nay, thou shalte fynde hym another maner of man.Fol.In faythe, I can do mastryes, so I can.Cr. Con.What canest thou do but play cocke wat?Fan.Yes,[820]yes, he wyll make thé ete a gnat.Fol.Yes, yes, by my trouth, I holde thé a grote,That I shall laughe thé out of thy cote.Cr. Con.Than wyll I say that thou haste no pere.1210Fan.Nowe, by the rode, and he wyll go nere.Fol.Hem, Fansy!regardes, voyes.HereFolymaketh semblaunt to take a lowse fromCrafty Conueyaunceshowlder.Fan.What hast thou founde there?Fol.By God, a lowse.Cr. Con.By Cockes harte, I trowe thou lyste.Fol.By the masse, a Spaynysshe moght with a gray lyste.Fan.Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!Cr. Con.Cockes armes, it is not so, I trowe.HereCrafty Conu[ey]aunceputteth of his gowne.Fol.Put on thy gowne agayne, for nowe thou hast lost.[821]Fan.Lo, Johnn a Bonam, where is thy brayne?1220Nowe put on, fole, thy cote agayne.Fol.Gyue me my grote, for thou hast lost.HereFolymaketh semblaunt to take money ofCrafty Conueyaunce, saynge to hym,Shyt thy purse, dawe, and do no cost.Fan.Nowe hast thou not a prowde mocke and a starke?Cr. Con.With, yes, by the rode of Wodstocke Parke.Fan.Nay, I tell thé, he maketh no dowtesTo tourne a fole out of his clowtes.Cr. Con.And for a fole a man wolde hym take.Fol.Nay, it is I that foles can make;For, be he cayser or be he kynge,1230To felowshyp with Foly I can hym brynge.Fan.Nay, wylte thou here nowe of his scoles,And what maner of people he maketh foles?Cr. Con.Ye, let vs here a worde or twayne.Fol.Syr, of my maner I shall tell you the playne.Fyrst I lay before them my bybyll,And teche them howe they sholde syt ydyll,To pyke theyr fyngers all the day longe;So in theyr eyre I synge them a songe,And make them so longe to muse,1240That some of them renneth strayght to the stuse;To thefte and bryboury I make some fall,And pyke a locke and clyme a wall;And where I spy a nysot gay,That wyll syt ydyll all the day,And can not set herselfe to warke,I kyndell in her suche a lyther sparke,That rubbed she must be on the gallBytwene the tappet[822]and the wall.Cr. Con.What, horson, arte thou suche a one?1250Fan.Nay, beyonde all other set hym alone.
Court. Ab.Why, is this the gyse nowe adayes?Cl. Col.Ye, for surety, ofte peas is taken for frayes.But, syr, I wyll haue this man with me.Cr. Con.Conuey yourselfe fyrst, let se.Cl. Col.Well, tarry here tyll I for you sende.Cr. Con.Why, shall he be of your bende?Cl. Col.Tary here: wote ye what I say?Court. Ab.I waraunt you, I wyll not go away.Cr. Con.By Saynt Mary, he is a tawle man.830Cl. Col.Ye, and do ryght good seruyce he can;I knowe in hym no defauteBut that the horson is prowde and hawte.And so they[807]go out of the place.Court. Ab.Nay, purchace ye a pardon for the pose,For pryde hath plucked thé by the nose,As well as me: I wolde, and I durste,But nowe I wyll not say the worste.Courtly Abusyonalone in the place.What nowe, let se,Who loketh on meWell rounde aboute,840Howe gay and howe stouteThat I can wereCourtly my gere:My heyre busshethSo plesauntly,My robe russhethSo ruttyngly,Me seme I flye,I am so lyght,To daunce delyght;850Properly drest,All poynte deuyse,My persone prestBeyonde all syseOf the newe gyse,To russhe it outeIn euery route:Beyonde measureMy sleue is wyde,Al of pleasure,860My hose strayte tyde,My buskyn wyde,Ryche to beholde,Gletterynge in golde.AbusyonForsothe I hyght:ConfusyonShall on hym lyght,By day or by nyghtThat vseth me;870He can not thee.A very fon,A very asse,Wyll take vponTo compasseThat neuer wasAbusyd before;A very poreThat so wyll do,He doth abuse880Hym selfe to to,He dothe mysse vseEche man take a fe[808]To crake and prate;I befoule his pate.This newe fonne ietFrom out of FraunceFyrst I dyd set;Made purueaunceAnd suche ordenaunce,890That all men it foundeThrough out Englonde:All this nacyonI set on fyreIn my facyon,This theyr desyre,This newe atyre;This ladyes haue,I it them gaue;Spare for no coste;900And yet in dedeIt is coste losteMoche more than nedeFor to excedeIn suche aray:Howe be it, I say,A carlys sonne,Brought vp of nought,Wyth me wyll wonneWhylyst he hath ought;910He wyll haue wroughtHis gowne so wydeThat he may hydeHis dame and his syreWithin his slyue;Spende all his hyre,That men hym gyue;Wherfore I preue,A Tyborne checkeShall breke his necke.920Here cometh inFansy, craynge, Stow, stow!All is out of harre,And out of trace,Ay warre and warreIn euery place.But what the deuyll art thou,That cryest, Stow, stow?Fan.What, whom haue we here, Jenkyn Joly?Nowe welcom, by the God holy.Court. Ab.What, Fansy, my frende! howe doste thou fare?Fan.By Cryst, as mery as a Marche hare.930Court. Ab.What the deuyll hast thou on thy fyste? an owle?Fan.Nay, it is a farly fowle.Court. Ab.Me thynke she frowneth and lokys sowre.Fan.Torde, man, it is an hawke of the towre:She is made for the malarde fat.Court. Ab.Methynke she is well becked to catche a rat.But nowe what tydynges can you tell, let se.Fan.Mary, I am come for thé.Court. Ab.For me?Fan.Ye, for thé, so I say.940Court. Ab.Howe so? tell me, I thé pray.Fan.Why, harde thou not of the fray,That fell amonge vs this same day?Court. Ab.No, mary, not yet.Fan.What the deuyll, neuer a whyt?Court. Ab.No, by the masse; what sholde I swere?Fan.In faythe, Lyberte is nowe a lusty spere.Court. Ab.Why, vnder whom was he abydynge?Fan.Mary, Mesure had hym a whyle in gydynge,Tyll, as the deuyll wolde, they fell a chydynge950With Crafty Conuayaunce.Court. Ab.Ye, dyd they so?Fan.Ye, by Goddes sacrament, and with other mo.Court. Ab.What neded that, in the dyuyls date?Fan.Yes, yes, he fell with me also at debate.Court. Ab.With thé also? what, he playeth the state?Fan.Ye, but I bade hym pyke out of the gate,By Goddes body, so dyd I.Court. Ab.By the masse, well done and boldely.Fan.Holde thy pease, Measure shall frome vs walke.960Court. Ab.Why, is he crossed than with a chalke?Fan.Crossed! ye, checked out of consayte.Court. Ab.Howe so?Fan.By God, by a praty slyght,As here after thou shalte knowe more:But I must tary here; go thou before.Court. Ab.With whom shall I there mete?Fan.Crafty Conueyaunce standeth in the strete,Euen of purpose for the same.Court. Ab.Ye, but what shall I call my name?970Fan.Cockes harte, tourne thé, let me se thyne aray:Cockes bones, this is all of Johnn de gay.Court. Ab.So I am poynted after my consayte.Fan.Mary, thou iettes it of hyght.Court. Ab.Ye, but of my name let vs be wyse.Fan.Mary, Lusty Pleasure, by myne aduyse,To name thyselfe, come of, it were done.Court. Ab.Farewell, my frende.Fan.Adue, tyll sone.[809]Stowe, byrde, stowe, stowe!980It is best I fede my hawke now.There is many euyll faueryd, and thou be foule;Eche thynge is fayre when it is yonge: all hayle, owle!Lo, this isMy fansy, I wys:Nowe Cryst it blysse!It is, by Jesse,A byrde full swete,For me full mete:She is furred for the hete990All to the fete;Her browys bent,Her eyen glent:Frome Tyne to Trent,From Stroude to Kent,A man shall fyndeMany of her kynde,Howe standeth the wyndeBefore or behynde:Barbyd lyke a nonne,1000For burnynge of the sonne;Her fethers donne;Well faueryd bonne.Nowe, let me se about,In all this rowteYf I can fynde outSo semely a snowteAmonge this prese:Euen a hole mese—Pease, man, pease!1010I rede, we sease.So farly fayre as it lokys,And her becke so comely crokys,Her naylys sharpe as tenter hokys!I haue not kept her yet thre wokys,And howe styll she dothe syt!Teuyt, teuyt, where is my wyt?The deuyll spede whyt!That was before, I set behynde;Nowe to curteys, forthwith vnkynde;1020Somtyme to sober, somtyme to sadde,Somtyme to mery, somtyme to madde;Somtyme I syt as I were solempe prowde;Somtyme I laughe ouer lowde;Somtyme I wepe for a gew gaw;Somtyme I laughe at waggynge of a straw;With a pere my loue you may wynne,And ye may lese it for a pynne.I haue a thynge for to say,And I may tende therto for play;1030But in faythe I am so occupyedOn this halfe and on euery syde,That I wote not where I may rest.Fyrst to tell you what were best,Frantyke Fansy seruyce I hyght;My wyttys be weke, my braynys are lyght:For it is I that other whylePlucke downe lede, and theke with tyle;Nowe I wyll this, and nowe I wyll that;Make a wyndmyll of a mat;1040Nowe I wolde, and I wyst what;Where is my cappe? I haue lost my hat;And within an houre after,Plucke downe an house, and set vp a rafter;Hyder and thyder, I wote not whyder;Do and vndo, bothe togyder;Of a spyndell I wyll make a sparre;All that I make, forthwith I marre;I blunder, I bluster, I blowe, and I blother;I make on the one day, and I marre on the other;1050Bysy, bysy, and euer bysy,I daunce vp and downe tyll I am dyssy;I can fynde fantasyes where none is;I wyll not haue it so, I wyll haue it this.Hic ingrediaturFoly, quatiendo crema[810]et faciendo multum, feriendo tabulas et similia.Fol.Maysters, Cryst saue euerychone!What, Fansy, arte thou here alone?Fan.What, fonnysshe Foly! I befole thy face.Fol.What, frantyke Fansy in a foles case!What is this, an owle or a glede?By my trouthe, she hathe a grete hede.1060Fan.Tusshe, thy lyppes hange in thyne eye:[811]It is a Frenche butterflye.Fol.By my trouthe, I trowe well;But she is lesse a grete deleThan a butterflye of our lande.Fan.What pylde curre ledest thou in thy hande?Fol.A pylde curre!Fan.Ye so, I tell thé, a pylde curre.Fol.Yet I solde his skynne to Mackemurre,In the stede of a budge furre.1070Fan.What, fleyest thou his skynne euery yere?Fol.Yes, in faythe, I thanke God I may here.Fan.What, thou wylte coughe me a dawe for forty pens?Fol.Mary, syr, Cokermowthe is a good way hens.Fan.What? of Cokermowth spake I no worde.Fol.By my faythe, syr, the frubyssher hath my sworde.Fan.A, I trowe, ye shall coughe me a fole.Fol.In faythe, trouthe ye say, we wente togyder to scole.Fan.Ye, but I can somwhat more of the letter.Fol.I wyll not gyue an halfepeny for to chose the better.1080Fan.But, broder Foly, I wonder moche of one thynge,That thou so hye fro me doth sprynge,And I so lytell alway styll.Fol.By God, I can tell thé, and I wyll.Thou art so feble fantastycall,And so braynsyke therwithall,And thy wyt wanderynge here and there,That thou cannyst not growe out of thy boyes gere;And as for me, I take but one folysshe way,And therfore I growe more on one day1090Than thou can in yerys seuen.Fan.In faythe, trouth thou sayst nowe, by God of heuen!For so with fantasyes my wyt dothe flete,That wysdome and I shall seldome mete.Nowe, of good felowshyp, let me by thy dogge.[812]Fol.Cockys harte, thou lyest, I am no hogge.[813]Fan.Here is no man that callyd thé hogge nor swyne.Fol.In faythe, man, my brayne is as good as thyne.Fan.The deuyls torde for thy brayne!Fol.By my syers soule, I fele no rayne.1100Fan.By the masse, I holde thé madde.Fol.Mary, I knewe thé when thou waste a ladde.Fan.Cockys bonys, herde ye euer syke another?Fol.Ye, a fole the tone, and a fole the tother.Fan.Nay, but wotest thou what I do say?Fol.Why, sayst thou that I was here yesterday?Fan.Cockys armys, this is a warke, I trowe.Fol.What, callyst thou me a donnyshe crowe?Fan.Nowe, in good faythe, thou art a fonde gest.Fol.Ye, bere me this strawe to a dawys nest.1110Fan.What, wenyst thou that I were so folysshe and so fonde?Fol.In faythe, ellys is there none in all Englonde.Fan.Yet for my fansy sake, I say,Let me haue thy dogge, what soeuer I pay.Fol.Thou shalte haue my purse, and I wyll haue thyne.Fan.By my trouth, there is myne.Fol.Nowe, by my trouth, man, take, there is myne;[814]And I beshrowe hym that hath the worse.Fan.Torde, I say, what haue I do?Here is nothynge but the bockyll of a sho,1120And in my purse was twenty marke.Fol.Ha, ha, ha! herke, syrs, harke!For all that my name hyght Foly,By the masse, yet art thou more fole than I.Fan.Yet gyue me thy dogge, and I am content;And thou shalte haue my hauke to a botchment.Fol.That euer thou thryue, God it forfende!For Goddes cope thou wyll spende.Nowe take thou my dogge, and gyue me thy fowle.[815]Fan.Hay, chysshe, come hyder!1130Fol.Nay, torde, take hym be tyme.Fan.What callest thou thy dogge?Fol.Tusshe, his name is Gryme.Fan.Come, Gryme, come, Gryme! it is my praty dogges.Fol.In faythe, there is not a better dogge for hogges,Not from Anwyke vnto Aungey.Fan.Ye, but trowest thou that he be not maungey?Fol.No, by my trouthe, it is but the scurfe and the scabbe.Fan.What, he hathe ben hurte with a stabbe?Fol.Nay, in faythe, it was but a strype1140That the horson had for etynge of a trype.Fan.Where the deuyll gate he all these hurtes?Fol.By God, for snatchynge of puddynges and wortes.Fan.What, then he is some good poore mannes curre?Fol.Ye, but he wyll in at euery mannes dore.Fan.Nowe thou hast done me a pleasure grete.Fol.In faythe, I wolde thou had a marmosete.Fan.Cockes harte, I loue suche iapes.Fol.Ye, for all thy mynde is on owles and apes.But I haue thy pultre, and thou hast my catell.1150Fan.Ye, but thryfte and we haue made a batell.Fol.Remembrest thou not the iapes and the toyes—Fan.What, that we vsed whan we were boyes?Fol.Ye, by the rode, euen the same.Fan.Yes, yes, I am yet as full of gameAs euer I was, and as full of tryfyls,Nil, nihilum, nihil, anglicenyfyls.Fol.What canest thou all this Latyn[816]yet,And hath so mased a wandrynge wyt?Fan.Tushe, man, I kepe some Latyn in store.1160Fol.By Cockes harte, I wene thou hast no more.Fan.No? yes, in faythe, I can versyfy.Fol.Then, I pray thé hartely,Make a verse of my butterfly;It forseth not of the reason, so it kepe ryme.Fan.But wylte thou make another on Gryme?Fol.Nay, in fayth, fyrst let me here thyne.Fan.Mary, as for that, thou shalte sone here myne:Est snavi[817]snagowith a shrewde facevilis imago.Fol.Grimbaldus gredy, snatche a puddyng tyl the rost be redy.1170Fan.By the harte of God, well done!Fol.Ye, so redely and so sone!Here cometh inCrafty Conueyaunce.Cr. Con.What, Fansy! Let me se who is the tother.Fan.By God, syr, Foly, myne owne sworne brother.Cr. Con.Cockys bonys, it is a farle freke:Can he play well at the hoddypeke?Fan.Tell by thy trouth what sport can thou make.Fol.A, holde thy peas; I haue the tothe ake.Cr. Con.The tothe ake! lo, a torde ye haue.Fol.Ye, thou haste the four quarters of a knaue.1180Cr. Con.Wotyst thou, I say, to whom thou spekys?Fan.Nay, by Cockys harte, he ne reckys,For he wyll speke to Magnyfycence thus.Cr. Con.Cockys armys, a mete man for vs.Fol.What, wolde ye haue mo folys, and are so many?Fan.Nay, offer hym a counter in stede of a peny.Cr. Con.Why, thynkys thou he can no better skyll?Fol.In fayth, I can make you bothe folys, and I wyll.Cr. Con.What haste thou on thy fyst? a kesteryll?[818]Fol.Nay, I wys, fole, it is a doteryll.1190Cr. Con.In a cote thou can play well the dyser.Fol.Ye, but thou can play the fole without a vyser.Fan.Howe rode he by you? howe put he to you?[819]Cr. Con.Mary, as thou sayst, he gaue me a blurre.But where gatte thou that mangey curre?Fan.Mary, it was his, and nowe it is myne.Cr. Con.And was it his, and nowe it is thyne?Thou must haue thy fansy and thy wyll,But yet thou shalt holde me a fole styll.Fol.Why, wenyst thou that I cannot make thé play the fon?1200Fan.Yes, by my faythe, good Syr Johnn.Cr. Con.For you bothe it were inough.Fol.Why, wenyst thou that I were as moche a fole as thou?Fan.Nay, nay, thou shalte fynde hym another maner of man.Fol.In faythe, I can do mastryes, so I can.Cr. Con.What canest thou do but play cocke wat?Fan.Yes,[820]yes, he wyll make thé ete a gnat.Fol.Yes, yes, by my trouth, I holde thé a grote,That I shall laughe thé out of thy cote.Cr. Con.Than wyll I say that thou haste no pere.1210Fan.Nowe, by the rode, and he wyll go nere.Fol.Hem, Fansy!regardes, voyes.HereFolymaketh semblaunt to take a lowse fromCrafty Conueyaunceshowlder.Fan.What hast thou founde there?Fol.By God, a lowse.Cr. Con.By Cockes harte, I trowe thou lyste.Fol.By the masse, a Spaynysshe moght with a gray lyste.Fan.Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!Cr. Con.Cockes armes, it is not so, I trowe.HereCrafty Conu[ey]aunceputteth of his gowne.Fol.Put on thy gowne agayne, for nowe thou hast lost.[821]Fan.Lo, Johnn a Bonam, where is thy brayne?1220Nowe put on, fole, thy cote agayne.Fol.Gyue me my grote, for thou hast lost.HereFolymaketh semblaunt to take money ofCrafty Conueyaunce, saynge to hym,Shyt thy purse, dawe, and do no cost.Fan.Nowe hast thou not a prowde mocke and a starke?Cr. Con.With, yes, by the rode of Wodstocke Parke.Fan.Nay, I tell thé, he maketh no dowtesTo tourne a fole out of his clowtes.Cr. Con.And for a fole a man wolde hym take.Fol.Nay, it is I that foles can make;For, be he cayser or be he kynge,1230To felowshyp with Foly I can hym brynge.Fan.Nay, wylte thou here nowe of his scoles,And what maner of people he maketh foles?Cr. Con.Ye, let vs here a worde or twayne.Fol.Syr, of my maner I shall tell you the playne.Fyrst I lay before them my bybyll,And teche them howe they sholde syt ydyll,To pyke theyr fyngers all the day longe;So in theyr eyre I synge them a songe,And make them so longe to muse,1240That some of them renneth strayght to the stuse;To thefte and bryboury I make some fall,And pyke a locke and clyme a wall;And where I spy a nysot gay,That wyll syt ydyll all the day,And can not set herselfe to warke,I kyndell in her suche a lyther sparke,That rubbed she must be on the gallBytwene the tappet[822]and the wall.Cr. Con.What, horson, arte thou suche a one?1250Fan.Nay, beyonde all other set hym alone.
Court. Ab.Why, is this the gyse nowe adayes?
Cl. Col.Ye, for surety, ofte peas is taken for frayes.
But, syr, I wyll haue this man with me.
Cr. Con.Conuey yourselfe fyrst, let se.
Cl. Col.Well, tarry here tyll I for you sende.
Cr. Con.Why, shall he be of your bende?
Cl. Col.Tary here: wote ye what I say?
Court. Ab.I waraunt you, I wyll not go away.
Cr. Con.By Saynt Mary, he is a tawle man.830
Cl. Col.Ye, and do ryght good seruyce he can;
I knowe in hym no defaute
But that the horson is prowde and hawte.
And so they[807]go out of the place.
And so they[807]go out of the place.
Court. Ab.Nay, purchace ye a pardon for the pose,
For pryde hath plucked thé by the nose,
As well as me: I wolde, and I durste,
But nowe I wyll not say the worste.
Courtly Abusyonalone in the place.
Courtly Abusyonalone in the place.
What nowe, let se,
Who loketh on me
Well rounde aboute,840
Howe gay and howe stoute
That I can were
Courtly my gere:
My heyre bussheth
So plesauntly,
My robe russheth
So ruttyngly,
Me seme I flye,
I am so lyght,
To daunce delyght;850
Properly drest,
All poynte deuyse,
My persone prest
Beyonde all syse
Of the newe gyse,
To russhe it oute
In euery route:
Beyonde measure
My sleue is wyde,
Al of pleasure,860
My hose strayte tyde,
My buskyn wyde,
Ryche to beholde,
Gletterynge in golde.
Abusyon
Forsothe I hyght:
Confusyon
Shall on hym lyght,
By day or by nyght
That vseth me;870
He can not thee.
A very fon,
A very asse,
Wyll take vpon
To compasse
That neuer was
Abusyd before;
A very pore
That so wyll do,
He doth abuse880
Hym selfe to to,
He dothe mysse vse
Eche man take a fe[808]
To crake and prate;
I befoule his pate.
This newe fonne iet
From out of Fraunce
Fyrst I dyd set;
Made purueaunce
And suche ordenaunce,890
That all men it founde
Through out Englonde:
All this nacyon
I set on fyre
In my facyon,
This theyr desyre,
This newe atyre;
This ladyes haue,
I it them gaue;
Spare for no coste;900
And yet in dede
It is coste loste
Moche more than nede
For to excede
In suche aray:
Howe be it, I say,
A carlys sonne,
Brought vp of nought,
Wyth me wyll wonne
Whylyst he hath ought;910
He wyll haue wrought
His gowne so wyde
That he may hyde
His dame and his syre
Within his slyue;
Spende all his hyre,
That men hym gyue;
Wherfore I preue,
A Tyborne checke
Shall breke his necke.920
Here cometh inFansy, craynge, Stow, stow!
Here cometh inFansy, craynge, Stow, stow!
All is out of harre,
And out of trace,
Ay warre and warre
In euery place.
But what the deuyll art thou,
That cryest, Stow, stow?
Fan.What, whom haue we here, Jenkyn Joly?
Nowe welcom, by the God holy.
Court. Ab.What, Fansy, my frende! howe doste thou fare?
Fan.By Cryst, as mery as a Marche hare.930
Court. Ab.What the deuyll hast thou on thy fyste? an owle?
Fan.Nay, it is a farly fowle.
Court. Ab.Me thynke she frowneth and lokys sowre.
Fan.Torde, man, it is an hawke of the towre:
She is made for the malarde fat.
Court. Ab.Methynke she is well becked to catche a rat.
But nowe what tydynges can you tell, let se.
Fan.Mary, I am come for thé.
Court. Ab.For me?
Fan.Ye, for thé, so I say.940
Court. Ab.Howe so? tell me, I thé pray.
Fan.Why, harde thou not of the fray,
That fell amonge vs this same day?
Court. Ab.No, mary, not yet.
Fan.What the deuyll, neuer a whyt?
Court. Ab.No, by the masse; what sholde I swere?
Fan.In faythe, Lyberte is nowe a lusty spere.
Court. Ab.Why, vnder whom was he abydynge?
Fan.Mary, Mesure had hym a whyle in gydynge,
Tyll, as the deuyll wolde, they fell a chydynge950
With Crafty Conuayaunce.
Court. Ab.Ye, dyd they so?
Fan.Ye, by Goddes sacrament, and with other mo.
Court. Ab.What neded that, in the dyuyls date?
Fan.Yes, yes, he fell with me also at debate.
Court. Ab.With thé also? what, he playeth the state?
Fan.Ye, but I bade hym pyke out of the gate,
By Goddes body, so dyd I.
Court. Ab.By the masse, well done and boldely.
Fan.Holde thy pease, Measure shall frome vs walke.960
Court. Ab.Why, is he crossed than with a chalke?
Fan.Crossed! ye, checked out of consayte.
Court. Ab.Howe so?
Fan.By God, by a praty slyght,
As here after thou shalte knowe more:
But I must tary here; go thou before.
Court. Ab.With whom shall I there mete?
Fan.Crafty Conueyaunce standeth in the strete,
Euen of purpose for the same.
Court. Ab.Ye, but what shall I call my name?970
Fan.Cockes harte, tourne thé, let me se thyne aray:
Cockes bones, this is all of Johnn de gay.
Court. Ab.So I am poynted after my consayte.
Fan.Mary, thou iettes it of hyght.
Court. Ab.Ye, but of my name let vs be wyse.
Fan.Mary, Lusty Pleasure, by myne aduyse,
To name thyselfe, come of, it were done.
Court. Ab.Farewell, my frende.
Fan.Adue, tyll sone.[809]
Stowe, byrde, stowe, stowe!980
It is best I fede my hawke now.
There is many euyll faueryd, and thou be foule;
Eche thynge is fayre when it is yonge: all hayle, owle!
Lo, this is
My fansy, I wys:
Nowe Cryst it blysse!
It is, by Jesse,
A byrde full swete,
For me full mete:
She is furred for the hete990
All to the fete;
Her browys bent,
Her eyen glent:
Frome Tyne to Trent,
From Stroude to Kent,
A man shall fynde
Many of her kynde,
Howe standeth the wynde
Before or behynde:
Barbyd lyke a nonne,1000
For burnynge of the sonne;
Her fethers donne;
Well faueryd bonne.
Nowe, let me se about,
In all this rowte
Yf I can fynde out
So semely a snowte
Amonge this prese:
Euen a hole mese—
Pease, man, pease!1010
I rede, we sease.
So farly fayre as it lokys,
And her becke so comely crokys,
Her naylys sharpe as tenter hokys!
I haue not kept her yet thre wokys,
And howe styll she dothe syt!
Teuyt, teuyt, where is my wyt?
The deuyll spede whyt!
That was before, I set behynde;
Nowe to curteys, forthwith vnkynde;1020
Somtyme to sober, somtyme to sadde,
Somtyme to mery, somtyme to madde;
Somtyme I syt as I were solempe prowde;
Somtyme I laughe ouer lowde;
Somtyme I wepe for a gew gaw;
Somtyme I laughe at waggynge of a straw;
With a pere my loue you may wynne,
And ye may lese it for a pynne.
I haue a thynge for to say,
And I may tende therto for play;1030
But in faythe I am so occupyed
On this halfe and on euery syde,
That I wote not where I may rest.
Fyrst to tell you what were best,
Frantyke Fansy seruyce I hyght;
My wyttys be weke, my braynys are lyght:
For it is I that other whyle
Plucke downe lede, and theke with tyle;
Nowe I wyll this, and nowe I wyll that;
Make a wyndmyll of a mat;1040
Nowe I wolde, and I wyst what;
Where is my cappe? I haue lost my hat;
And within an houre after,
Plucke downe an house, and set vp a rafter;
Hyder and thyder, I wote not whyder;
Do and vndo, bothe togyder;
Of a spyndell I wyll make a sparre;
All that I make, forthwith I marre;
I blunder, I bluster, I blowe, and I blother;
I make on the one day, and I marre on the other;1050
Bysy, bysy, and euer bysy,
I daunce vp and downe tyll I am dyssy;
I can fynde fantasyes where none is;
I wyll not haue it so, I wyll haue it this.
Hic ingrediaturFoly, quatiendo crema[810]et faciendo multum, feriendo tabulas et similia.
Hic ingrediaturFoly, quatiendo crema[810]et faciendo multum, feriendo tabulas et similia.
Fol.Maysters, Cryst saue euerychone!
What, Fansy, arte thou here alone?
Fan.What, fonnysshe Foly! I befole thy face.
Fol.What, frantyke Fansy in a foles case!
What is this, an owle or a glede?
By my trouthe, she hathe a grete hede.1060
Fan.Tusshe, thy lyppes hange in thyne eye:[811]
It is a Frenche butterflye.
Fol.By my trouthe, I trowe well;
But she is lesse a grete dele
Than a butterflye of our lande.
Fan.What pylde curre ledest thou in thy hande?
Fol.A pylde curre!
Fan.Ye so, I tell thé, a pylde curre.
Fol.Yet I solde his skynne to Mackemurre,
In the stede of a budge furre.1070
Fan.What, fleyest thou his skynne euery yere?
Fol.Yes, in faythe, I thanke God I may here.
Fan.What, thou wylte coughe me a dawe for forty pens?
Fol.Mary, syr, Cokermowthe is a good way hens.
Fan.What? of Cokermowth spake I no worde.
Fol.By my faythe, syr, the frubyssher hath my sworde.
Fan.A, I trowe, ye shall coughe me a fole.
Fol.In faythe, trouthe ye say, we wente togyder to scole.
Fan.Ye, but I can somwhat more of the letter.
Fol.I wyll not gyue an halfepeny for to chose the better.1080
Fan.But, broder Foly, I wonder moche of one thynge,
That thou so hye fro me doth sprynge,
And I so lytell alway styll.
Fol.By God, I can tell thé, and I wyll.
Thou art so feble fantastycall,
And so braynsyke therwithall,
And thy wyt wanderynge here and there,
That thou cannyst not growe out of thy boyes gere;
And as for me, I take but one folysshe way,
And therfore I growe more on one day1090
Than thou can in yerys seuen.
Fan.In faythe, trouth thou sayst nowe, by God of heuen!
For so with fantasyes my wyt dothe flete,
That wysdome and I shall seldome mete.
Nowe, of good felowshyp, let me by thy dogge.[812]
Fol.Cockys harte, thou lyest, I am no hogge.[813]
Fan.Here is no man that callyd thé hogge nor swyne.
Fol.In faythe, man, my brayne is as good as thyne.
Fan.The deuyls torde for thy brayne!
Fol.By my syers soule, I fele no rayne.1100
Fan.By the masse, I holde thé madde.
Fol.Mary, I knewe thé when thou waste a ladde.
Fan.Cockys bonys, herde ye euer syke another?
Fol.Ye, a fole the tone, and a fole the tother.
Fan.Nay, but wotest thou what I do say?
Fol.Why, sayst thou that I was here yesterday?
Fan.Cockys armys, this is a warke, I trowe.
Fol.What, callyst thou me a donnyshe crowe?
Fan.Nowe, in good faythe, thou art a fonde gest.
Fol.Ye, bere me this strawe to a dawys nest.1110
Fan.What, wenyst thou that I were so folysshe and so fonde?
Fol.In faythe, ellys is there none in all Englonde.
Fan.Yet for my fansy sake, I say,
Let me haue thy dogge, what soeuer I pay.
Fol.Thou shalte haue my purse, and I wyll haue thyne.
Fan.By my trouth, there is myne.
Fol.Nowe, by my trouth, man, take, there is myne;[814]
And I beshrowe hym that hath the worse.
Fan.Torde, I say, what haue I do?
Here is nothynge but the bockyll of a sho,1120
And in my purse was twenty marke.
Fol.Ha, ha, ha! herke, syrs, harke!
For all that my name hyght Foly,
By the masse, yet art thou more fole than I.
Fan.Yet gyue me thy dogge, and I am content;
And thou shalte haue my hauke to a botchment.
Fol.That euer thou thryue, God it forfende!
For Goddes cope thou wyll spende.
Nowe take thou my dogge, and gyue me thy fowle.[815]
Fan.Hay, chysshe, come hyder!1130
Fol.Nay, torde, take hym be tyme.
Fan.What callest thou thy dogge?
Fol.Tusshe, his name is Gryme.
Fan.Come, Gryme, come, Gryme! it is my praty dogges.
Fol.In faythe, there is not a better dogge for hogges,
Not from Anwyke vnto Aungey.
Fan.Ye, but trowest thou that he be not maungey?
Fol.No, by my trouthe, it is but the scurfe and the scabbe.
Fan.What, he hathe ben hurte with a stabbe?
Fol.Nay, in faythe, it was but a strype1140
That the horson had for etynge of a trype.
Fan.Where the deuyll gate he all these hurtes?
Fol.By God, for snatchynge of puddynges and wortes.
Fan.What, then he is some good poore mannes curre?
Fol.Ye, but he wyll in at euery mannes dore.
Fan.Nowe thou hast done me a pleasure grete.
Fol.In faythe, I wolde thou had a marmosete.
Fan.Cockes harte, I loue suche iapes.
Fol.Ye, for all thy mynde is on owles and apes.
But I haue thy pultre, and thou hast my catell.1150
Fan.Ye, but thryfte and we haue made a batell.
Fol.Remembrest thou not the iapes and the toyes—
Fan.What, that we vsed whan we were boyes?
Fol.Ye, by the rode, euen the same.
Fan.Yes, yes, I am yet as full of game
As euer I was, and as full of tryfyls,
Nil, nihilum, nihil, anglicenyfyls.
Fol.What canest thou all this Latyn[816]yet,
And hath so mased a wandrynge wyt?
Fan.Tushe, man, I kepe some Latyn in store.1160
Fol.By Cockes harte, I wene thou hast no more.
Fan.No? yes, in faythe, I can versyfy.
Fol.Then, I pray thé hartely,
Make a verse of my butterfly;
It forseth not of the reason, so it kepe ryme.
Fan.But wylte thou make another on Gryme?
Fol.Nay, in fayth, fyrst let me here thyne.
Fan.Mary, as for that, thou shalte sone here myne:
Est snavi[817]snagowith a shrewde facevilis imago.
Fol.Grimbaldus gredy, snatche a puddyng tyl the rost be redy.1170
Fan.By the harte of God, well done!
Fol.Ye, so redely and so sone!
Here cometh inCrafty Conueyaunce.
Here cometh inCrafty Conueyaunce.
Cr. Con.What, Fansy! Let me se who is the tother.
Fan.By God, syr, Foly, myne owne sworne brother.
Cr. Con.Cockys bonys, it is a farle freke:
Can he play well at the hoddypeke?
Fan.Tell by thy trouth what sport can thou make.
Fol.A, holde thy peas; I haue the tothe ake.
Cr. Con.The tothe ake! lo, a torde ye haue.
Fol.Ye, thou haste the four quarters of a knaue.1180
Cr. Con.Wotyst thou, I say, to whom thou spekys?
Fan.Nay, by Cockys harte, he ne reckys,
For he wyll speke to Magnyfycence thus.
Cr. Con.Cockys armys, a mete man for vs.
Fol.What, wolde ye haue mo folys, and are so many?
Fan.Nay, offer hym a counter in stede of a peny.
Cr. Con.Why, thynkys thou he can no better skyll?
Fol.In fayth, I can make you bothe folys, and I wyll.
Cr. Con.What haste thou on thy fyst? a kesteryll?[818]
Fol.Nay, I wys, fole, it is a doteryll.1190
Cr. Con.In a cote thou can play well the dyser.
Fol.Ye, but thou can play the fole without a vyser.
Fan.Howe rode he by you? howe put he to you?[819]
Cr. Con.Mary, as thou sayst, he gaue me a blurre.
But where gatte thou that mangey curre?
Fan.Mary, it was his, and nowe it is myne.
Cr. Con.And was it his, and nowe it is thyne?
Thou must haue thy fansy and thy wyll,
But yet thou shalt holde me a fole styll.
Fol.Why, wenyst thou that I cannot make thé play the fon?1200
Fan.Yes, by my faythe, good Syr Johnn.
Cr. Con.For you bothe it were inough.
Fol.Why, wenyst thou that I were as moche a fole as thou?
Fan.Nay, nay, thou shalte fynde hym another maner of man.
Fol.In faythe, I can do mastryes, so I can.
Cr. Con.What canest thou do but play cocke wat?
Fan.Yes,[820]yes, he wyll make thé ete a gnat.
Fol.Yes, yes, by my trouth, I holde thé a grote,
That I shall laughe thé out of thy cote.
Cr. Con.Than wyll I say that thou haste no pere.1210
Fan.Nowe, by the rode, and he wyll go nere.
Fol.Hem, Fansy!regardes, voyes.
HereFolymaketh semblaunt to take a lowse fromCrafty Conueyaunceshowlder.
HereFolymaketh semblaunt to take a lowse fromCrafty Conueyaunceshowlder.
Fan.What hast thou founde there?
Fol.By God, a lowse.
Cr. Con.By Cockes harte, I trowe thou lyste.
Fol.By the masse, a Spaynysshe moght with a gray lyste.
Fan.Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Cr. Con.Cockes armes, it is not so, I trowe.
HereCrafty Conu[ey]aunceputteth of his gowne.
HereCrafty Conu[ey]aunceputteth of his gowne.
Fol.Put on thy gowne agayne, for nowe thou hast lost.[821]
Fan.Lo, Johnn a Bonam, where is thy brayne?1220
Nowe put on, fole, thy cote agayne.
Fol.Gyue me my grote, for thou hast lost.
HereFolymaketh semblaunt to take money ofCrafty Conueyaunce, saynge to hym,
HereFolymaketh semblaunt to take money ofCrafty Conueyaunce, saynge to hym,
Shyt thy purse, dawe, and do no cost.
Fan.Nowe hast thou not a prowde mocke and a starke?
Cr. Con.With, yes, by the rode of Wodstocke Parke.
Fan.Nay, I tell thé, he maketh no dowtes
To tourne a fole out of his clowtes.
Cr. Con.And for a fole a man wolde hym take.
Fol.Nay, it is I that foles can make;
For, be he cayser or be he kynge,1230
To felowshyp with Foly I can hym brynge.
Fan.Nay, wylte thou here nowe of his scoles,
And what maner of people he maketh foles?
Cr. Con.Ye, let vs here a worde or twayne.
Fol.Syr, of my maner I shall tell you the playne.
Fyrst I lay before them my bybyll,
And teche them howe they sholde syt ydyll,
To pyke theyr fyngers all the day longe;
So in theyr eyre I synge them a songe,
And make them so longe to muse,1240
That some of them renneth strayght to the stuse;
To thefte and bryboury I make some fall,
And pyke a locke and clyme a wall;
And where I spy a nysot gay,
That wyll syt ydyll all the day,
And can not set herselfe to warke,
I kyndell in her suche a lyther sparke,
That rubbed she must be on the gall
Bytwene the tappet[822]and the wall.
Cr. Con.What, horson, arte thou suche a one?1250
Fan.Nay, beyonde all other set hym alone.