to Primary SourcesTo Mistress Isabell Pennell
To Mistress Margaret Hussey
Merry Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower;
With solace and gladness,
Much mirth and no madness,
All good and no badness;
So joyously,
So maidenly,
So womanly
Her demeaning
In every thing,
Far, far passing
That I can endite,
Or suffice to write
Of merry Margaret,
As midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower.
As patient and as still
And as full of good will
As fair Isaphill;
Colyander,
Sweet pomander,
Good Cassander;
Steadfast of thought,
Well made, well wrought,
Far may be sought
Ere that ye can find
So courteous, so kind
As merry Margaret,
This midsummer flower,
Gentle as falcon
Or hawk of the tower.By Saint Mary, my lady,
Your mammy and your dady
Brought forth a goodly baby!
My maiden Isabell,
Reflaring rosabell,
The flagrant camamell,
The ruddy rosary,
The sovereign rosemary,
The pretty strawberry,
The columbine, the nepte,
The jeloffer well set,
The proper violet;
Ennewèd your colour
Is like the daisy flower
After the April shower;
Star of the morrow gray,
That blossom on the spray,
The freshest flower of May:
Maidenly demure,
Of womanhood the lure;
Wherefore, I make you sure,
It were an heavenly health,
It were and endless wealth,
A life for God himself,
To hear this nightingale
Among the birdes smale
Warbling in the vale,
Dug, dug, jug, jug,
Good year and good luck,
With chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck!
With Lullay, Lullay, Like A Child
A ballade of the Scottysshe Kynge
WITH lullay, lullay, like a child,
Thou sleepèst too long, thou art beguiled!"My darling dear, my daisy flower,
Let me," quoth he, "lie in your lap."
"Lie still," quoth she, "my paramour,
Lie still hardily, and take a nap."
His head was heavy, such was his hap,
All drowsy, dreaming, drowned in sleep,
That of his love he took no keep,
With hey, lullay, etc.With ba, ba, ba, and bas, bas, bas!
She cherished him both cheek and chin
That he wist never where he was;
He had forgotten all deadly sin!
He wanted wit her love to win:
He trusted her payment and lost all his pay;
She left him sleeping and stale away,
With hey, lullay, etc.The rivers rough, the waters wan;
She sparèd not to wet her feet.
She waded over, she found a man
That halsèd her heartily and kissed her sweet;
Thus after her cold she caught a heat.
"My lief," she said, "rowteth in his bed;
Iwys he hath an heavy head,"
With hey, lullay, etc.What dreamest thou, drunkard, drowsy pate?
Thy lust and liking is from thee gone;
Thou blinkard blowboll, thou wakèst too late;
Behold thou liest, luggard, alone!
Well may thou sigh, well may thou groan,
To deal with her so cowardly.
Ywis, pole-hatchet, she blearèd thine eye!
Quoth Skelton Laureate.
(This is in the original old English.)Kynge Iamy, Iomy your. Ioye is all go
Ye sommoned our kynge why dyde ye so
To you nothyng it dyde accorde
To sommon our kynge your souerayne lorde.
A kynge a somner it is wonder
Knowe ye not salte and suger asonder
In your somnynge ye were to malaperte
And your harolde nothynge experte
Ye thought ye dyde it full valyauntolye
But not worth thre skyppes of a pye
Syr squyer galyarde ye were to swyfte.
Your wyll renne before your wytte.
To be so scornefull to your alye,
Your counseyle was not worth a flye.
Before the frensshe kynge, danes, and other
Ye ought to honour your lorde and brother
Trowe ye syr Iames his noble grace,
For you and your scottes wolde tourne his face
Now ye proude scottes of gelawaye.
For your kynge may synge welawaye
Now must ye knowe our kynge for your regent,
Your souerayne lorde and presedent,
In hym is figured melchisedeche
And ye be desolate as armeleche
He is our noble champyon.
A kynge anoynted and ye be non
Thrugh your counseyle your fader was slayne
Wherfore I fere ye wyll suffre payne,
And ye proude scottes of dunbar
Parde ye be his homager.
And suters to his parlyment,
Ye dyde not your dewty therin.
Wyerfore ye may it now repent
Ye bere yourselfe somwhat to bolde,
Therfore ye haue lost your copyholde.
Ye be boundetenauntes to his estate.
Gyue vp yovr game ye playe chekmate.
For to the castell of norham
I vnderstonde to soone ye cam.
For a prysoner there now ye be
Eyther to the deuyll or the trinite.
Thanked be saynte Gorge our ladyes knythe
Your pryd is paste adwe good nycht.
Ye haue determyned to make a fraye
Our kynge than beynge out of the waye
But by the power and myght of god
Ye were beten weth your owne rod
By your wanton wyll syr at a worde
Ye haue loste spores, cotearmure, and sworde
Ye had bee better to haue busked to huntley_bankes,
Than in Englonde to playe ony suche prankes
But ye had some wyld sede to sowe.
Therfore ye be layde now full lowe,
Your power coude no lenger attayne
Warre with our kynge to meyntayne.
Of the kynge of nauerne ye may take hede,
How vnfortunately he doth now spede,
In double walles now he dooth dreme.
That is a kynge witout a realme
At hym example ye wolde none take.
Experyence hath brought you in the same brake
Of the outyles ye roughfoted scottes,
We have well eased you of the bottes
Ye rowe ranke scottes and dronken danes
Of our englysshe bowes ye haue fette your banes.
It is not syttynge in tour nor towne,
A somner to were a kynges crowne
That noble erle the whyte Lyon.
Your pompe and pryde hath layde a downe
His sone the lorde admyrall is full good.
His swerde hath bathed in the scottes blode
God saue kynge. Henry and his lordes all
And sende the frensshe kynge suche another fallAmen, for saynt charyte And god saue noble.
Kynge Henry, The .viij.