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DRAYTON. 1591. 








9 Wotm. 






CI)e ^ertp ^cicietp* 


THOMAS AMYOT, Esq. F.R.S., Treas. S A. 


J. A. CAHUSAC, Esq. F.S.A. 

WILLIAM CHAPPELL, Esq. F.S.A., Treasurer. 







T. J. PETTIGREW, Esq. F.R S., F.SA. 

E. F. RIMBAULT, Esq. F.S.A. Secrelarij. 





The ensuing tract has been attributed to John 
Skelton on the authority of Herbert, who was not 
aware of its existence until after he had published 
his edition of the " Typographical Antiquities"" 
of Ames. He subsequently saw a copy of it 
in the hands of Latham, and from Latham it 
found its way into the library of the late Mr. 
Heber. Our re-impression is made from a trans- 
cript of that copy, for no other is known to be in 

Whether " A proper new Boke of the Armonye 
of Byrdes" were really the authorship of Skelton, 
is a point which we shall probably find consi- 
dered and determined in the long promised, and, 
we hope we may now say, speedily forthcoming 
edition of that author's multifarious works, under 
the care of the Rev. Alexander Dyce. Herbert 
seems to have thought that this tract was '' in the 
manner" of Skelton, but we own that it does not 
strike us at all in that light ; it is of too moral 


ti turn, us well as in too modern a style, for 
his pen, however becoming its tendency might 
have been to his profession. Neither is the 
versification at all like that of any other produc- 
tion by Skelton with which we are acquainted. 
However, this is a point on which we do not feel 
well qualified to decide, and it is the less necessary 
that we should finally make up our mind upon the 
point, in as much as we are soon likely to have it 
decisively settled. It has never, that we are 
aware of, been attributed to any other author, and 
we are without any extrinsic evidence either way; 
none at least has come to our knowledge, beyond 
the fact that Wight was the printer of two of 
Skelton'^s admitted works, " Phillip Sparrow," and 
Colyn Clout .""^ Both these are dateless, but pur- 
port to have been printed " by John Wight," and 
the last of them has the same imprint as the tract 
now offered to the members of the " Percy 

As to the date of the piece reprinted on the 
following pages, John Wight did not begin to 
print, as far as the fact can now be ascertained, 
until 1551, and books with his name attached to 
them, as a stationer, are extant dated 1588; but 
he appears to have left off" printing on his own 
account early : " Ferrarius of a Common Weale,'"' 
4to. 1559, purports to have been printed, not by 


John Wight, but " by John Kyngston, for John 
Wight," and he subsequently employed as his 
printers, Henry Denham, John Awdeley, Thomas 
Dawson, John Charlewood, Thomas East, Newton 
and Hatfield, Edward Bollifant, Henry Bynne- 
raan, «fcc. As " A proper new Boke of the Ar- 
monye of Byrdes" professes to have been printed 
not for, but hy John Wight, we may fairly pre- 
sume that it came from his press between 1551, 
when he began, and 1559 when he left off printing 
in his own name. 

We believe that the poem is not only unique in 
itself, but imique in its kind, and on every account 
it deserves reprinting and preservation. Into 
whose hands it devolved on the dispersion of 
Mr. Heber"'s Library we are not informed, but 
before his death he gave us permission to copy it, 
with a view to a reimpression : his notion was, 
that the value of the original copy of a tract was 
not lessened by its being rendered accessible, but 
he was influenced, besides, by higher and better 
motives than mere pecuniary considerations. — We 
have good reason to know that he felt none of that 
literary dog-in- the -mangerism, which interferes 
with the employment by others of what the pos- 
sessor cannot himself enjoy. 



Imprinted at London by John "VVyght dvvelling : 

Poules church yarde, at the sygne of 

the Rose. 



Whan Dame Flora, 
In die aurora, 

Had coverd the meadow with flowers, 
And all the fylde 
Was over distylde 

With lusty Aprell showers ; 

For my disporte, 
Me to conforte, 

Whan the day began to spring, 
Foorth I went, 
With a good intent 

To here the byrdes syng, 

I was not past 
Not a stones cast, 

So nygh as I could deme. 
But I dyd se 
A goodly tree 

Within an herbor grene ; 

B 2 


Whereon dyd lyglit 
Bp'cles as thycke 

As sterres in the skye, 
Praisyng our Lorde 
Without discorde, 

With goodly armony. 

The popyngay 
Than fyrst dyd say, 

Hoc didicit per me, 
Emperour and kyng 
Without lettyng 

Discite semper a me. 

Therfore wyll I 
The name magnify 

Of God above all names ; 
And fyrst begyn 
In praisyng to him 

This song, Te Deum laudamus. 

Then sang the avys 
Called the mavys 

The trebble in ellamy, 
That from the ground 
Her notes round 

Were herde into the skye. 

Than all the rest, 
At her request, 

Both meane, basse, and tenur. 


With her dyd respond 
This glorious song, 

Te Dorainura confitemur. 

The partryge sayd, 
It may not be denayd, 

But that I shall use my bath, 
In flood and land, 
In ertli and sand. 

In hygh way and in path ; 

Than with the erth 
Wyll I make merth, 

Accordyng to my nature. 
She tuned then, 
Te, eternum Patrem, 

Omnis terra veneratur. 

Than sayd the pecocke, 
All ye well wot 

I syng not musycall ; 
For my brest is decayd, 
Yet I have, he sayd, 

Fethers angelicall. 

He sang, Tibi 
Omnes angeli, 

Tibi celi, he dyd reherse, 
Et universi, 
Bot estates on hye, 

And so concluded the verse. 


Than saycl the nightyngale, 
To make shoi'te tale, 

For wordes I do refuse, 
Because my delyght, 
Both day and nyght 

Is synging for to use : 

Tibi cherubin 
Et seraphin, 

Full goodly she dyd chaunt, 
With notes merely 

Voce proclaniant. 

Than sang the thrusshe, 
Sanctus, sanctus, 

Sanctus, with a solempne note. 
In Latyn thus, 
Dominus Deus, 

In Hebrew Sabaoth. 

Than sayd the larke, 
Bycause my parte 

Is upward to ascend, 
And downe to rebound 
Toward the ground, 

Singyng to discend ; 

Than after my wunt 
Pleni sunt. 

Cell et tei-ra, quod she,. 


Shall be my song 
On briefe and long, 
Majestatis glorie tue. 

The cocke dyd say, 
I use alway 

To crow both fyrst and last : 
Like a postle I am, 
For I preche to man, 

And tell hhn the nyght is past. 

I bring new tidynges 

That the Kynge of all kynges 

In tactu profudit chorus : 
Than sang he mellodius 
Te gloriosus 

Apostolorum chorus. 

Than sayd the pye, 
I do prophecye. 

Than may I well syng thus. 
Sub umbra alarum 
Te prophetarum 

Laudabilis numerus. 

Than the byrdes all 

All at once dyd crye. 
For mankyndes sake, 
Both erly and late, 

We be all redy to dye. 


Te martyrum, 
Both all and sum, 

They sang mellifluus, 
Candidatus so bright, 
One God of myght 

Laudat exercitus. 

Than the red brest 
His tunes redrest, 

And sayd now wyll I holde 
"With the churche, for there 
Out of the ayere 

I kepe me from the colde^ 

Te per orbem terrarum, 
In visum Sarum, 

He sange cum gloria ; 
Sancta Avas nexte, 
And then the hole texte 

Confitetur ecclesia. 

Than the egle spake. 
Ye know my estate, 

That I am lorde and kyng ; 
Therfore wyll I 
To the father only 

Gryve laude and praisyng. 

He toke his flyght 
To the sonnes lyght, 
Oculis aure verberatis; 


Patrem, he sang, 
That all the wood rang 
Immense majestatis. 

Than sayd the phenix, 
There is none such 

As I, but I alone ; 
Nor the Father, I prove, 
Keygnyng above, 

Hath no mo sonnes but one. 

With tunes mylde 
I sang that chylde 

Venerandum verum ; 
And his name dyd reherse 
In the ende of the verse, 

Et unicum filium. 

Than sayd the dove, 
Scripture doth prove, 

That from the deite 
The Holy Spiright 
On Christ dyd lyght 

In lykenesse of me ; 

And syth the Spiright 
From heven bright 

Lyke unto me dyd come, 
I wyll syng, quod she. 
Sanctum quoque 

Paracletum Spiritual. 


Than all in one voyce 
They dyd all rejoyce, 

Omnes vos iste, 
Chaungyng their key 
From ut to rey, 

Et tu rex glorie Christe. 

Then sayd the wren, 
I am called the hen 

Of our Lady most cumly ; 
Than of her Sun 
My notes shall run, 

For the love of that Lady. 

By tytle and ryght 
The Son of myght, 

She dyd hym well dyscus, 
Tu Patris syngyng, 
Without any endyng, 

Sempiternus es filius. 

The tyrtle trew. 
With notes new, 

The lady of chastyte, 
Of a vyrgins wombe 
AVas all her songe, 

And of mannes libertye ; 

Tu ad liberandum, 
Et salvandum 

Hominem pei'ditum, 


Non horruisti 
Sed eligisti 

Virginis uterum. 

Than sayd the pellycane, 
Whan my byrdes be slayne 

With my bloude I tliem revy ve ; 
Scrypture doth record 
The same dyd our Lord, 

And rose from deth to lyve. 

She sang, Tu devicto 
Mortis aculeo, 

Ut DoDodnus dominorum, 
Tu ascendisti 
Et apparviisti 

Credentibus regna celorum. 

The osyll dyd pricke 
Her notes all thycke, 

With blacke ynke and with red ; 
And in like facyon 
With Christ in his passyon, 

From the fote to the crown of the hed. 

But now he doth raygne 
With his Father agayne, 

In dextera majestatis : 
Than sang she with joye, 
Tu ad dexteram Dei 

Sedes, in gloria Patris. 


The swalowes syng swete, 
To man we be mete, 

For with him we do buylde : 
Lyke as from above 
God, for mannes love. 

Was borne of mayden milde. 

We come and go, 
As Christ shall do, 

To judge both great and small : 
They sang for this, 
Judex crederis 

Esse venturus all. 

Than in prostracion 
They made oration 

To Christ that died upon the rood. 
To have mercy on those 
For whom he chose 

To shed his precious blood. 

Te ergo quesumus. 
We pray the Jesus, 

Famulos tuos subveni 
Ab omni doloso, 
Quos precioso 

Sanguine redemisti. 

The hauies dyd syng. 
Their belles dyd ryng, 

Thei said they came from the Tower 


We hold with the kyng, 
And wyll for him syng 

To God, day, nyght, and hower. 

The sparrowes dyd tell, 
That Christ in his Gospell 

A texte of them dyd purpose ; 
Suis heredibus 
Multis pastoribus 

Meliores estis vos. 

They fell downe flat 
With Salvum fac 

Populum tuum, Domine, 
In heven to sit 
Et benedic 

Hereditate tue. 

Than all dyd respond, 
Lorde, helpe at hond, 

Ne cadant ad internum ; 
Et rege eos, 
Et extolle iUos 

Usque in eternum. 

They toke their flyght, 
Prayeng for the ryght. 

And thus their prayer began; 
Pater noster, qui es 
Per singulos dies, 

Benedicimus te, God and man. 


Et laudamus 
Et gloriosus 

Nomen tuum so lijc. 
In seculum here, 
In this militant quere, 

Et in seculum seculi. 

They dyd begyn 
To pray that syn 

Shuld clene from us exire ; 
Dignare Domine 
Die isto sine 

Peccato nos custodire. 

With supplication 
They made intercessyon, 

And sung, Misere nostri, 
Rehersyng this texte 
In Englysh nexte, 

Lorde, on us have mercy. 

Than dyd they prepare 
Away for to fare, 

And all at once arose, 
Singyng in ara, 
Fiat misei'icordia tua, 

Domine, super nos. 

AVith tunes renude 
They dyd conclude 

Whan they away shuld flye, 


To syng all and sum 
tSperavimus in te. 

Than dyd I go 
Where I came fro, 

And ever I dyd pretend, 
Not to tary long, 
But of this song 

To make a fynall ende. 

I sayd, In te, Domine, 
Speravi cotidie, 

That I fall not in infernum ; 
And than with thy grace, 
After this place 

Non confunder in eternum. 


Imprinted at London, by John Wyght dwelling in Poulcs 
church yarde, at the sygne of the Rose. 


P. 4, 1. 11, — Without lettyng] i.e. without hindrance or 

P, 4, 1. 22, — Called the mavis] Sir W. Scott, in a note ti» hi^ 
ballad of " Alice Brand," in The Lady of the Lake, 
infoiins us that the mavis is a thrush, but in this poem 
the thrush is afterwards mentioned as a different bird. 
Tyrwhitt in his notes upon Chaucer informs us that the 
mavis is Saxon for a thrush ; but according to Todd, it 
is rather to be derived from the French mauvis, and he 
quotes a passage from Lord Bacon, which shews that he 
did not consider the mavis and the thrush the same bird. 

P. 4. 1. 21, — The treble in ellamy] e la mi seem to have been 
the names of musical notes in singing. 

P. 5. 1.21, — For my brest is decay d^ The word " breast" was 
of old constantly used for voice. 

P. (J, 1. 11, — Incessabile] In the original this word is mis- 
printed as two words, In cessabile. 

P. 6, 1. 25, — Than after my uunti i.e. after my ivont, or cus- 
tom, so spelt for the sake of the rhyme. 


18 NOTES. 

P. 7, 1. 2, — Ov. briefe and lonrf] Brief and long were the names 
of notes in music. 

P. 8, 1. 12, — / kepe me from the colde] Of all birds the robin 
is supposed most to prefer and resemble man, and his 
reason for " holding with the church," because it keeps 
him warm, is certainly a very human one. 

P. 8, 1. 14, — In usum Sariwi] Missals in usum Sarum, were 
such as were employed at Salisbury. 

P. 8, 1. 24, — Gyve laude and praisyng] Misprinted in the 
original " Gyve luade" &c. 

P. 10, 1. 5, — From ut to rey"] ut and re were also the old names 
of musical notes in singing. 

P. 10, 1. 10, — Than of her sun] Sun for son : it is rightly 
spelt in the next stanza. 

P. 10, 1. 17, — Without any endyinrj] It is hardly worth notice, 
but in the original " Witliout" is misprinted Witoiit. 

P. 11, 1. 16, — The osyll did pricke'] Shakespeare introduces 
" the oozel cock" in Midsummer's Night's Dream, Act iii. 
sc. 1 . It differs from the blackbird chiefly by having a 
white crescent on its breast. 

P. 11, 1. 18,— With black ynke and ivith red] So of old 
musical notes were written and printed : to "prick," used 
two lines earlier, was a technical expression in the com- 
position of music. 

iNOTES. 19 

P. 12, 1. 26, — Their belles dijd ryny] At tlie time when hawk- 
ing was in fashion, hawks carried l)ells, that they might 
be heard, as well as seen. 

P. 13, 1. 11, — Multis PASTORiRus] So in the original; the 
misprint is obvious. Vide Luke, c. xii. v. 7. 

P. 14, 1. 5, — In this militant quere] Fonuerly quire was not 
unfrequently spelt quere, especially if it were wanted for 
the sake of the rhyme. 

P. 14, 1. \b,~-And sung misere nostri^ Another misprint, 
which the reader Avill at once detect and correct. 

P. 14, 1. 20, — Away for to fare] To fare in its oldest sense 
is to go, from faran, Sax. We still use it in the compound 
thoroughfare, if not in farewell. 

P. 15, 1. b, — And ever I did pretend] Nothing was much 
more common of old, than to use " pretend'' in the sense 
of intend. 




l)N THE 

^e\3en penitential psalms. 




IN THE YEAR 1414 ; 








€l)t f ercp ^orietp^ 


THOMAS AMYOT, Esq. F.R.S., Teeas. S.A. 


J. A. CAHUSAC, Esq. F.S.A. 

WILLIAM CHAPPELL, Esq. F.S.A., Treasurer. 







T. J. PETTIGREW, Esq. F.R S., F.S.A. 

E. F. RIMBAULT, Esq. F.S.A. Secretary. 





The religious poetry of the Middle Ages consists, 
for the most part, of dull versification, ennobled 
with few of the lofty sentiments that pure Chris- 
tianity inspires, and enlivened with few flights of 
imagination, except those derived from a wild and 
dreary superstition. That of our own language is 
therefore chiefly valuable for its philological data, 
and as constituting apart of our national literature. 
But it is hoped that the poem, which these pages 
first bring to light, will be found to contain both 
some sentiments of piety, and some touches of 
poetry, that may render it more acceptable than 
its contemporaries. 

The text is taken from one of Sir Hans Sloane's 
MSS. in the British Museum, No. 1853, written 
on vellum, early in the fifteenth century, in a 
fair church-text, with illuminated capitals; in- 
titled (in Latin) " Here begin the Seven Peni- 
tential Psalms, translated out of Latin into 
English ;'"' but not naming the author, either at 
the head or at the foot of the poem. A later hand 


however, of about the middle of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, has preserved a memorial, which seems to 
indicate his name, in the following note inscribed 
along the top of the first page : " Frater Thomas 
Brampton, sacrw Theologiw Doctor, fr. minorum 

pauperculus confessor, de Anglicum. Anno 

Dom. 1414. ad Dei honor em et incrementum devo- 
cionisy Unfortunately this inscription was almost 
obliterated by some liquid, which slightly damaged 
the MS. ; and has been retouched by another old 
hand : but an important blank remains, which 
perhaps the words Latino transtulit in formerly 
occupied : for the conclusion seems applicable not 
to a mere transcriber, but to an author alone, or 
(as the title expresses it) a translator. The term 
transtulit, in the title, evidently means the act of 
making a paraphrase in English, upon the Latin 
text of the Seven Psalms ; which is given verse 
by verse, before each stanza. 

The Editor is strongly inclined to believe that 
the words proposed to be inserted between " de" 
and " Anglicum'''' are more than a probable con- 
jecture, and that little doubt can remain that 
Doctor Thomas Brampton, a Confessor of the 
Freres Minors, was the author of the paraphrase : 
but his researches, for many years past, have not 
been successful enough to obtain any information 
about him, bevond what this notice affords ; and 


thus he must be introduced, for the first time, into 
the list of our English poets and authors. 

There is great probability that the date, men- 
tioned in the old note, is correct : for the author's 
application of that passage in the lOlst (or in the 
English version, the 102nd) Psalm, " Thou aris- 
ing, O Lord, shalt have mercy on Sion : for the 
time of pitying her, yea the time, hath come ;'' — 
to holy churchy and chivalry^ precisely agrees with 
the disposition of both clergy and laity, and the 
king too, at the beginning of the Fifth Henry ""s 
reign. See stanza Ixxxvii., where the following 
lines seem directly levelled against that brave 
man and truly Christian martyr. Sir John Oldcas- 
tle, Lord Cobham, who was at that time committed 
to the flames as a heretic : 

" Late nevere kni/yhthod, aglien the nght, 
Be lost with tremun and sotijlte." 

Henry''s persecuting resolution, to which he was 
urged on by the furious clergy, is also painted to 
the life, when he represents him as 'presiding in 
Sion, (the very name by which the monastery, 
that he founded at Isleworth, was called ;) thus: — 

" Syon ' a merour' is, to say, 
That God hath bygged,* and sett ful hye : 
There si/tt our ki/nc/, be trewe fay,t 
That shal heretykes alle distiye."| 

» Built. t % the li'i'«" i'i^it'i- t Ufstvoy. 

(Stanza xc) He adds, that whosoever full heartily 
prays for the king, thereby 

" iVIajTitenyth ome cherche graciously, 
And kepith it, as ye may see." 

But for these blemishes, one would think from 
the general piety that pervades the poem, from 
the hint given to oppressive tyrants in the 9ord 
stanza, and from the description of imprisoned 
sufferers, in the 94th, that the author was a 
Lollard. But, on the contrary, the editor cannot 
help conjecturing that he was the author of the 
poem against Lollardie^ which is preserved in the 
Cottonian MS. Vespasiamis, b. xvi, and printed 
in Ritson's Ancient Songs ; the style and metre 
being very much like those of this paraphrase. 
Nor can he but observe, for the same reason, a 
probability that he was the author also of The 
Ploufjhijiaji's Ta'e, which is inserted among the 
Canterbury Tales, in some old copies, as a supple- 
ment to Chaucer's work. 

The author's religious notions were what might 
be expected of that dark age. He represents 
himself, in an elegant introduction, as restless, 
rising at midnight from his bed, repeating an 
antiphona from his breviary, going to his Confessor, 
and receiving instructions for the relief of his 
conscience, one of which was, to say over ' these 
seven Psalms ;' which he proceeds to do, verse by 


verse, making the first words of his favourite 
antiphona the burden of his meditation upon every 
one. Thus confession, absolution, and discipline, 
are the foundation ; and purgatory, the doctrines 
of hereditary depravity, and of the immaculate con- 
ception of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary alone, 
and the notion of a guardian angel constantly 
attending him, make their appearance, though 
scantily. (Stanzas xlviii.lix.cviii.) It is remark- 
able that there is not one invocation of a saint or 
angel, or any mention of the Virgin Mary, but 
what has now been noticed. Probably the author 
designed his book for the instruction of his 'ghostly 
children,' being a confessor himself ; and therefore 
rather intended to represent one of them, and 
himself, in those respective characters, in the 
introductory passages. 

The only other copy of this poem, known to the 
editor, is a fragment in the Harleian collection, 
No. 1704, of which volume the second MS. (ff. Jo 
— 75) is written on paper, in a hand of the end of 
the fifteenth century, imperfect at both ends. 
The first five leaves (ff. 13 — 17 b) contain 55 
stanzas out of the 124 ; viz. from the 62nd to the 
beginning of the HGth, inclusively. All the 
variations are given in the notes, whereby it 
appears to be in many places inaccurate and 
corrupt ; and it is modernized throughout, after 
the common fashion of such copies. This fragment 

is followed, after an interval of some pages, by a 
copy of bishop Alcock''s famous allegorical " Tre- 
tis of the Abbey of the Holy Ghost," (ff. 82b— 
49) ; which circumstance has occasioned a grievous 
blunder in two eminent literary historians. For 
Wanley, in his account of this MS.* describes 
the poem as the fourth article thus, "4. A frag- 
ment of a comment upon the YII. Penitential 
Psalms, in old English verse ;" then, as the ninth 
article, he gives the title of the " Tretis" above 
mentioned ; adding a note, which merely refers to 
" another copie of this tretis," bearing the author's 
name, and then briefly notices his history, cha- 
racter, and death. Hence Warton, having con- 
founded two articles, which stand at a considerable 
distance from each other, and have not the least 
connexion, enumerating Alcock's works, says : 
" A fragment of a comment upon the seven Peni- 
tential Psalms, in English verse, is supposed to he 
by Bishop Alcock, MSS. Harl. 1704.4.fol. I3."t 
Ritson improves upon Warton's supposition, by 
stating it as a fact, thus : " Alcock, John, 
Bishop of Ely, is the author of a comment upon 
the seven Penitential Psalms, in English verse. 
(Harl. MSS. 1704, imperfect.) He died in 1500."| 

* Harlcian Catalogue, ii. 177. 
f Walton's Ilistor}- of English Poetry, ed. 1824, 8vo. iii. 82. 
X Biographiii Poetica, p. 43. 

Thus, confusion is the parent of mistake, and the 
grandmother of falsehood. 

Having thus shown, that this work was not 
written by Bishop Alcock, but in all probability 
by the person named in the Sloane MS., (which 
was unknown to Warton and Ritson) ; it remains 
to show that this poem must not be confounded 
with an earlier one of the same kind, said to have 
been written by Richard RoUe, the hermit of 
Hampole, which is preserved in the Bodleian 
Library among Digby's MSS., No. 18. The first 
line, as quoted by Tanner* and Warton, t — To 
Goddis worschippe that dere us houglite ; and the 
first line of the paraphrase on the Psalm " Do- 
mine, ne in furore tuo,"" (xxxvii.) — Lord in thin 
angre repreve me nought ; — are quite different from 
the first and 31st stanzas of Thomas Brampton's 
production, printed in the following pages. 

The two Appendices of the present publication, 
were added by the Editor, on a supposition that 
the second of them was written by the same 
author as the Paraphrase : though this is by no 
means certain; yet it may have been an early me- 
trical attempt by the same author. The language 
is less polished, and the orthography is of an older 
fashion than the larger poem ; and it is perhaps 

* Bibliotheca Bi'itaunica, p. 375. 

t History ot English Poetry, ii. 100. 



remarkable, that, while Brampton's prospect of 
death was connected witii tho idea of being cof- 
fined or " locked in lead,'" the humbler versifier 
of the Legendary Psalter (as it may be termed), 
thinks of his icinding sheet., and of being " in 
clottus clunge" (page 54.) The first Appendix 
is given as the source of the other: they both 
afford instances of the superstitious value attached 
to prayers and other religious forms, (however 
destitute of devotional merit), when foisted upon 
the vulgar by a legend, ascribing their origin to a 
saint, or to an angel, or to the very devil himself! 
Many antient J3reviaries or Manuals contain an 
Abridgment of the Psalter in Latin, ascribed to 
Saint Jerome ; the prolix rubric of which says, 
" Beatus vero Ieroximus hoc modo disposuH brevi- 
ter hoc Psalterium, uhi Angelus Domini docuit eum., 
per Spiritum Sanctum ; " and sets forth its mani- 
fold advantages. That consists of eight or nine 
pages of selections from the Psalms : but this of 
Saint Bernard beats it all to nothing ; for he 
contrived to learn from the devil, how to say over 
the whole Psalter in eight verses! Surely the 
author of the second Appendix must have done a 
most commendable work, when he put this infor- 
mation, and the texts themselves, into the vulgar 
tongue, for general use ! The introductory pas- 
sage or legend in each Appendix, stantls in rubric 

ill the MS. from which it is derived. But the 
most remarkable rubric of this kind, which the 
Editor can remember, is that of an " orison" in 
the Harleian MS. 2867, art. 10,* which was an 
universal charm : when a mass of our Lady had 
been said over it, " then bear this orison upon 
you," says the rubric, and it was warranted to 
render the wearer invulnerable, and what not ! 

The Editor will now merely add, that he has 
scrupulously followed the Sloane MS. in the text, 
only substituting ih for the Anglo-Saxon J?, yet 
retaining the 5, (a modern representative of the 
Anglo-Saxon 3;,) conformably with the present 
practice; although he is strongly inclined to think 
that, in both instances, either the genuine old 
characters ought to be used, or th and gh substi- 
tuted for them respectively. He has marked the 
final e, where long, with an accent ; where short, 
with the usual note of a short syllable. The latter 
practice is invariable in these pages ; and this, 
with an occasional application of an accent, or of 
the double points, where the rhythm of the verse is 
not obvious to the eye, he trusts will not be un- 
acceptable to the reader. Some of the verses are 
full of anapaests, which puzzle an inexperienced 

* See Harleian Catalogue, ii. 670, where the whole rubric is 

reader of" old English poetry, far more than the 
regular iambic measures of Chaucer, and other 
writers. Want of time alone has prevented the 
annexing of a concise glossary, which he originally 


3, Magdalen Row, 

Goodman's Fields, 
3\st May, 1842. 



Paraphrase on the Seven Penitential Psalms: — 
Introduction, stanzas i.-vi. .... 
Psalm VI. (vi.) DominK, ne In furore, stanzas VII.-XYI. 

— XXXI. (XXXII.) Beati quorum remissa:, stanzas XVII. 

XXX. ..... 

— XXXVn. (xxxvili.) Domine, ne In furore, stanzas 

xxxi.-i,ni. .... 

— L. (li.) Miserere met, Deus, stanzas liv.-lxxiii. 

— CI. (cii.) /)ow»ieea;aMrfiorai«o«e»i, stanzas l<xxiv.-cii 

— CXXIX. (cxxx.) De profundi's elamavi, stanzas 

ciil.-cx. .... 





— CXLII. (CXLIII.) Domine, exaudi orationem, stanzas 

cxi.-cxxiv. . . . . .42 

Appendix I. Legend of Saint Bernard and the Devil, about 
eight verses in the Psalter ; too-ethor with those 
verses and prayers in Latin . . .49 

Appendix II. The same Legend in English ; with Para- 
phrase of the eight verses, in metre . .51 

Notes . . . . . . .55 

Verses on " The VIL Deedly S}Tines" . . .61,62 




XN wynter, whan the wedir was cold, 

1 ros at mydnyjt fro my rest, 

And prayed to Jesu that he wold. 

Be niyn helpe, for he my3t best. 

In myn herte anon I kest 

How I had syuned, and what degre : 

I cryed, knockyng up on my brest, 

" Ne reminiscaris, Domine !" 
Ne reminiscaris, Domine, delicta nostra, vel pa- 
rentum nostrorum ; neque vindictam sumas de pec- 
catis nosiris. Parce, Domine, parce papulo tuo, 
quern redemisti precioso sanguine tuo; et ne ineternum 
irascaris nobis ; et ne des hereditatem tuam in per- 

That is to seye, " Lord I thynke no more 

" Of my mysdedis that I have wrought, 



" I or my faderys here be fore, 

" That me in to this world have brought. 

" Of my mysdedys venge the nought : 

" But graunte me mercy and pyte. 

" My woordys, my werkys, and wycked thought, 

" • Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 

" Spare thy peple that is outerage, 
" We crye to the ful pytously ; 
" Lese no3t ly3tly thyn herytage, 
" That thou hast lovyd so hertily. 
" Have mynde, Lord, how thou woldyst dy, 
" And hange ful hye up on a tre, 
" To save hym that wolde wilfully 
" Sey, ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !'" 


With sorwefuU herte and repentaunce, 
Un to my Confessour I 3ede, 
To schryve me clene and aske penaunce ; 
Ther to me thou3te I hadde gret nede. 
Myn herte for sorwe began to blede, 
And cowthe non other coumfort se, 
For wyl, and woord, and wicked dede, 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


My Confessour coumfortyd me blyve, 
And seyde, " Thi synnes for3evyn are, 
" Zyf thou purpose to amende thi lyve, 
" God of his mercy will the spare. 


" No synful man he wille forfare, 
" That sory of his synnes wylle be : 
" This woord schal coumforte all thi kare, 
" ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


" And ferthermore, for tJii trespace, 

" That thou hast don to Cod of haven e, 

" Zif God wille sende the lyif and space, — 

" Thou shall seyn thise Psalmes sevene: 

" The bettyr with God thou mayst ben evene, 

" Or evere thi soule passe fro the. 

" Begynne, and seye with mylde stevene, 

" ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' " 


r\03IINE, ne in furore tuo arguas me : neque in 
ira tua corripias me. 

J_<ORD I will thou no3t me schame ne schende, 
Whan thou schalt be in thi fersnesse, 
To dredfuU dome whan I schal wende ? 
Helde nojt thi wretthe on my frealnessse, 
Thi derworthi childeryn whan thou schalt blesse. 
And bydde hem come to blysse with the : 
Mi synfull werkys more and lesse, 
' Ne reminiscaris Domine !' 


Miserere met, Domine, quoniam injirmvs sum : 
Sana me, Domine, quoniam, conturbata sunt omnia 
ossa mea. 

B 2 


Sythen thou woldyst no man were lost. 
Have mercy on me, for I am seke. 
Hele me, for my bonys are brost, 
And rewe on alle that will be meke. 
Thi pyte, Lord, encrese and eke, 
To alle that wille repentaunt be. 
And wille with sorweful herte seke, 
'Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Et anima mca tiirbata est valde : tu, Domine, 
usqiiequo ? 

My soule begynneth to tremble and qwake I 

How longe schal it with dreed be schent? 

Late nojt thyn ymage be forsake, 

Made with so good avysenient. 

Sythe man was made be full assent 

Of the blysped Trinite ; 

Thowj he do niys, and after repent, 

* Ne reminiscaris, Uomine !' 


Convertere, Domine, et eripe animam meam : 
salvum me fac propter misericordiam tuam. 
Turne the, Lord, and tarye now5t. 
Thin owen lyknes to helpe and save. 
Delyvere hem alle that thou hast bought. 
And graunte hem mercy that will it crave. 
Thynke, thou madyst bothe kyng and knave: 
Therfore of mercy be so fre. 
That no man wante, that wille it have. 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 



Quoniam non est in morte qui memor sit tui : in 
inferno autem quis confitehitur tibi ? 

Whan man is seek, and nedys nmste dye, 
(As every man sclial do be kynde,) 
After mercy he kan nojt crye, 
For sykenes revyth hym his mynde. 
Therfore, I rede, be nojt be hynde, 
Whil mercy is in gret plente : 
For in helie myjt nevere man fynde 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine 1' 


Laboravi in gemitu meo : lavabo per singulas 
noctes lectuin meum : lacnmis meis stratum meum 

My travayle is, bothe nyght and day, 

To wepe and weyle for my synne: 

With bittere terys I schal asay 

To wassche the bed that I lye inne. 

Whoso evere hevene will wynne, 

In en deles blysse evere more to be, 

This vers he muste ofte begynne, 

'Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Turbatus est a furore ocidus meus : inveteravi 
inter omnes inimicos meos. 

Myn eyin ben wexin al derke for drede; 
My vvickednes is drawyn on elde ; 
My soule is wrappyd in wofull wede. 
For synne I have forsake ful selde. 


Lord ! fro sorwe and schanie me schelde ! 
Myn helpe, myn hele, it lythe in the I 
Therfore I crye, in town and felde, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Doraine !' 


Discedite a me omnes qui operamini iniquitatem : 
qtioniam exaudivit Dominus vocem fletiis mei. 

Whan thou schalt deme bothe grete and smale, 
That day we nedys muste abyde. 
Fro losaphath, that gret vale, 
There is no man that may hym hyde. 
Thanne sette me, Lord, on thi ry5t syde, 
And cursede wretchys departe fro me. 
Wepyng I preye, ajens that tyde, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Exaudivit Dominus deprecacionem meam : Do- 
minus oracionem meam suscepit. 

Whanne gode and ille here mede schal take. 
As they ben worthi wo or wele, 
Late me no5t thanne be forsake; 
Sythe I have lefte my synnes fele. 
Suflfere no feend me thanne apele, 
Whanne the laste judgement schal be. 
Late me be syker, whil I have hele. 
Of ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine 1' 


Eruhescant et conturbentur vehementer omnes ini- 
mici mei : convertantur et eruhescant valde velociter. 


Whanne thei, that lyven a3ens tlii lawe, 
Schul be schent with open schame, 
To thy mercy I wille me drawe. 
And kepe my soule oute of blame. 
Thi mercy, Lord, I muste ataine, 
Whan myn enmyes dampnyd schul be : 
For evere I crye, and seye the same, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


TiEA TI quorum remisse sunt iniquitates ; et 
quorum tecta simt peccata. 
They may be syker of hevene blys, 
That han for3evenes of here synne. 
Thi mercy hydeth that is amys, 
Ofwickede werkys 3yf thei will blynne. 
Whan body and soule departe atwynne, 
All worldys frenschippe awey will fle : 
Thou getyst non helpe, of sybbe nor kynne, 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Beatus vir, cui non imputavit Dominus peccatum ; 
nee est in spiritus ejus dolus. 

Zyf God, that made all thyng of noujt, 
Of no synne may the apeche, 
In dede doon, or herte thou3t, 
Ne gyle ne falsnes in my speche ; 
Thanne, 3if it be as clerkys teche, 
Of endeles blysse 1 dowte no3t me. 
Zyf I be seek, this is my leche, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 



Quoniam facui, inveteraverunt ossa mea ; dum 
clamarem tola die. 

My medefull werkys, that ben ful fewe, 

Zyf I go telle hem every where ; 

My synne[s], that I in schryfte schulde schewe, 

I kepe hem clos for schanie or fere ; — 

Thanne waxe thei olde, and done me dere ; 

I rote as dooth a bowe on tre. 

Therfore, er I be leyd on bere, 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quoniam die ac node graviter est super me manus 
tua : conversus sum in erumpna mea, dum configitur 

The hand of vengeaunce, more and more, 

Is up on me bothe day and ny5t ; 

The prycke of conscyence grevyth me sore. 

As often as I do unry3t : 

But mercy, Lord ! as thou hast hyjt 

To alle tho that wyl turne un to the, 

1 kan no socour in thys ply5t. 

But, ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Delictum meum cognitum tibi feci : et injusticiam 
meam non abscondi. 

My trespas and myn unry3twysnesse 
I knowleche, and my synnes fele. 
TIJOVV5 I wolde hyde my wickydnesse, 
My conscyence uille me apele. 


I synne al daj', for I am frele ; 

It is inannys infirniyte : 

Whan no man may his gylte concele, 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Dixi, Conjitehor adversum me injusticiam meam 
Domino : et tu remisisti wipietatem peccati mei. 
Zyf thou, with good avysement, 
Of thi synnes wilt the schryve, 
Thi soule in helle schal nevere be schent, 
Whil thou wilt here thi penaunce dryve. 
Amende thi lyif (I rede the blyve) 
Er evere thi wittes fro the fle ; 
And thynke wel, whil thou art on lyve, 
On ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Pro liac orahit ad te omnis sanctus, in tempore 

Thow3 thou be holy in woord and dede, 
And besy thi God to plese and pay, 
To more mercy thou hast gret nede, 
Zyf thou thi conscyens wylt asay. 
Sevene sythes up on a day, 
The ry3tvvyse fallyth, Cryist seyth to the : 
But who so cryith, he seyde nevere nay, 
Of ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Verumptamen in diluvio aquarum midtarum, ad 
eiim non approximabunt. 


Thou mayst 0031 come to God above, 

Throwj thi flesclily governaunee : 

Lust and lykyng 3yf thou love, 

The ende therof is bitter chaunce. 

Thou mayst 003! serve bothe, with plesaunce, 

Cryist and the feend, in no degre. 

Serve God ; and seye, with repentaunce, 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Tu es refugium menm a tribulacione que circiim- 
(ledit me. Exultacio mea I erue me a circiindantihus 

Thou art inyn helpe in al dyssese ! 

Whan I am wrappyd in wele or wo, 

I schulde be besy the to plese. 

But, alias ! I do nojt so. 

Delyvere me, Lord, fro many a fo. 

That ny3t and day envyroun me. 

For helpe I kan no ferthere go, 

But to * Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Intellectum tibi dabo, et instruam te in via qua 
gradieris : Jirmabo super te oeulos meos. 
Graunte me grace wisdam and witt, 
Thi lawe to understande and lere. 
That I nevere gylte a3ens itt, 
VVher evere I go, fer or nere. 
I pray the. Lord, be thou my fere ; 
And pitously beholde, and se 
How T crye, whil I am here, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


XXVI r. 
Nolite fieri sicut eqmis et mulus : quibus non est 

I am full dull and ry3t unwyse, 

As beestys that kan no resoun take ; 

Slowe and slak in thi servyse, 

And selde suffre for tlii sake. 

To the ray moornyng I make. 

On me have mercy and pyte. 

There may no thyng my sorwe aslake, 

But "Ne reminiscaris, Domine !" 


In chamo etfreno maxiUas eorum constrhige ; qui 
non approocimant ad te. 

Lord I drawe hym to the with a brydel, 
That will no5t come with good wylle; 
And streyne here chekys fro woordys ydell. 
That kan no3t holdyn here tungys stylle. 
But, Lord ! late nevere mannes soule spylle, 
That axyth mercy and grace of the, 
And mekely puttyth to the this bylle, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Multa jlagella peccatoris : sperantem autem in 
Domino miser icordia circumdabit. 

The scourge of God is sharp and kene, 
Whanne synne among men is ryif ; 
Often he betyth hem by dene. 
To drawe hem fro here wycked lyif. 


He sparyth neythir man ne wyif, 

Ne non astate nor degre : 

There is no tliyng may stynte this stryif. 

But ' Ne reminisearis, Domine !' 


Letaminiin Domino, et exultate justi : et gloria- 
mini omnes recti corde. 

In herte thei may be merye and glad, 
That ry3tfully here ly'if lede, 
And kepe the lawe that Cryist bad, 
In thoujt. in woord, and eke in dede. 
God wille qwyte hem here mede, 
In endles blysse when thei schul be . 
Here uedys may no thyng bettyr spede, 
Than ' Ne reminisearis, Domine !' 


JHiOMINE, ne in furore tuo arguas me : neqiie in 
ira tua corripias me. 
Lord ! 3if thou be fers and sterne, 
As ofte tyme as thou schevvyst outward. 
And I trespase a3ens the 3erne, 
To the I am rebel! and froward. 
Ryghtwysnesse to me is hard, 
But it with mercy mengyd be: 
To this woord, Lord, have reward, 
*Ne reminisearis, Domine !' 


Quoniam sagitte tue injixe sunt micJti: et conjir- 
masti super me manum tuani. 


Thyn arvvys bon scharpe and persyn niyn herte ; 
Thi vengeaunce woundyth me ful depe ; 
Thou makyst my body sore to smerte, 
For thou woldist my soule kepe. 
I kan no more but vveyle and wepe ; 
Thin hand is sore set on me : 
Tn to my grave er evere I crepe, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Non est sanitas in came mea, a facie ire tue : non 
est pax ossibus meis, a facie peccatomm meornm. 

In my flesch I have non hele : 

Of synne comyth sorwe, and that is sene: 

My synful body is fals and frele, 

And dooth my spirite gret angyr and tene. 

There is no pees hem betwene, 

But evermore stryif and enmyte. 

My synfull werkis, alle be dene, 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Quoniam iniquitates mee supergresse sunt caput 
meuni : et sicut honus grave, gravate sunt super me. 

My gylt is grovvyn over myn heed ; 

All wyckidnesse in me is founde : 

My synnes ben hevy as hevy leed, 

Thai drawe me down on to the grounde. 

The feende with synne hath me so bounde, 

Bothe hand and foot, I may no3t fie : 

No thyng may make me saaf and sounde, 

But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine 1' 



Putruerunt et corrupte sunt cicatrices mee ; a 
facie insipiencie mee. 

My soule is comberyd with sorwe and synne : 

Lord I have pyte of my grevaunce. 

My woundes festryn and rotyn with inne, 

Be cause of unwyse governaunce. 

Who so wille scape a carefull chaunce. 

Whan all oure lyif demyd scball be ; 

He muste be forn make purveaunce, 

Of * Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Miser factus sum, et curvatus sum usq^ie injinem : 
tota die contristatus ingrediebar. 

I am a wreeche and feble of myght, 
And drawe faste toward myn ende ; 
I may no5t go ne stonde aryght, 
Mi bak begynneth for to bende. 
Sorwe and syknesse wil me schende; 
Al day I make my raone to the : 
For now have I non othir freende, 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quoniam lumbi met impleti sunt illusionihus : et 
non est sanitas in came mea. 

My spirite and my flesch, in fere, 
The feend is besy to begyle : 
As longe as I have lyved here. 
He is aboute with many a wyle, 



Bothe body and soule to defyle : 
I may no3t scape his cruelte. 
Ther is non helpe, in this vvhyle, 
But ' Ne rerainiscaris, Domine I' 


Afflictus sum et humiliatus stim nimis : rugieham 
a gemitu cordis met. 

Syknesse makyth me lowe and make ; 
I am turmentyd in wo and peyne. 
Thow5 thou woldyst my sorvve eke, 
I hadde no mater of the to pleyne. 
I am worthy (I may no3t feyne) 
To sufFre more, jyf it lyke the. 
With contrite herte, I turne ageyne 
To ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Domine! ante te omnedesiderium meum: etgemitus 
mens a te non est absconditus. 

Thou knowyst myn herte and all my wille : 
My sorwe I may 11051 fro the hyde : 
Suffre nevere my soule to spylle, 
Ne no myscheef me betyde. 
Now fadyth and fallyth all my pryde : 
For erthe I was, and erthe schal be. 
Thi mercy only I abyde : 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Cor meum conturbatum est; dereliquit me virtus 
mea : et lumen octdorum meorum et ipsum non est 


Homvvard I drawe uri to my rest ; 

My myght and sy3t awey is went. 

Myn herte is in poynt to brest, 

For dreed of harde jugement. 

Lord I late me nevere be schamyd nor schent, 

Thi ferdefuU face whan I schal se ; 

Nor non that cryeth, with good entent, 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Amici mei et proximi mei: adversum me appro- 
pinquaverunt, et steteriint. 

Kyn and knowleche, at myn ende, 
Whan I have iiede, begynneth to fayle. 
He, that was sunityme my frende. 
Is no5t aschamyd me to assayle. 
That I have getyn with sore travayle, 
Men ben a boutyn to 3yve fro me. 
There is no thyng may me avayle. 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Et quijuxta me erant, de longe steterunt : et vim 
faciebant, qui querehant animam meam. 
Summe that were sumtyme ful nye, 
Untrewly now han me forsake : 
Thei stryve ful faste, whan I schal dye. 
My wordely godys for to take. 
Thus falsnesse is the worldys make ; 
And feythfull freendys fewe there be. 
Er ryghtwysnesse be fully wake, 
* Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Et qui inquirebant mala michi, locuti sunt vani- 
tates : et dolos tola die meditabantur. 
Whanne I may no lengere lyve, 
Myn enenjyes spekyn of me full ille : 
Zyf I my3te an ansvvere gyve, 
They vvolde kepe here tungys stylle. 
Thus al day falsnesse hath his wylle, 
For frenschyp feyned is enemyte : 
Folys ben favouryd all here fylle. 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I 


Ego autem, tanquam surdus, non audiebam : et 
sicut mutus non aperiens as suum. 
Myn erys and my mowth I dytt, 
As I myjte neyther speke nor here : 
For now men seyn, it is wytt 
To thynke my fylle and make good chere. 
Thus every day we be to lere, 
' As fortune chaungyth, so muste we:' 
In erthe I fynde no feythful fere, 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Et factus sum sicut homo non audiens : et non 
habens in ore suo redarguciones. 

As I herde noujt, I holde my pes ; 
In woord I dar no man repreve : 
Zyf truthe will puttyn hym in pres, 
He may sone dysplese and greve. 



Now soothfastnesse hath takyn his leve, 
And vvytt is turned to vanyte ! 
It is gret nede this woord to meve, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quoniam in te, Domine, speravi : tii exaudies 
me, Domine Deus meus ! 

Lord I whan I on to the calle, 
For3yve me my synnes more and lesse: 
Thou art governour of alle, 
Welle and roote of all goodnesse ! 
Late no5t myn enemyes me oppresse ; 
Myn hope, myn helpe, it is in the. 
Whan thou schalt all wrong redresse, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Quia dixi, Nequando siipergaudeant niihi inimici 
tnei: et, dum commoventur pedes met, super me magna 
locuti sunt. 

Late no3t myn enemyes makyn here game 

Of me, whan I am lokyn in leed ; 

Ne with here tungys blemysch my name, 

And speke me ille whan I am deed. 

Er evere my feet and myn heed 

Be leyde a lyke, (as they muste be,) 

To have in mynde, it is best reed, 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quoniam ego in jiagella paratus sum : et dolor 
meus in conspectu meo semper. 


Here no lengere taryen I may ; 
In erthe I schal no lengere dwelle: 
Harde peynes I muste asay. 
In purgatorye, or ellys in helle. 
The ferdefull feendys, ferse and fell, 
On me will scliewyn here cruelte ; 
But I kunne sumnie tydinges telle 
Of ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quoniam iniquitatem meant annunciabo : et cogi- 
tabo pro peccato meo. 

My wyckydnesse I nedys sclial sehewe, 
Before my dredefull jugys face ; 
Whethyr ray synne? be manye or fewe, 
I schal have ryght thanne, and no grace. 
Thanne schal mercy be ful scace, 
Whan ryghtwysnesse and equite 
Schal puttyn a wey, out of his place, 
* Ne reminiscaris. Domine !' 


Inimici autem mei vivimt, et confirmati sunt super 
me : et multiplicati sunt, qui odernnt me inique. 
More ovyr, my peynes to encrese, 
Myn enmyes that be lefte behynde, 
They multiplye and will no3t cese : 
Here hatrede and here vvratthe I fynde ; 
In woord and vverk, thei ben unkynde, 
Whan I am deed to pursewe me. 
They sette ful selde in here n)ynde, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 

c 2 


Qui retribuunt mala pro bonis, detrahebanl michi : 
quoniam sequebar bonitatem. 
Now I am ful lytel bounde 
To manye, that were to me beholde ; 
Whan I am deed, and leyd in grounde, 
Here love is waxen wonder colde. 
They bakby'te me manye folde ; 
Evyll for good the! qwyten me : 
I am aferd thei be to bolde 
Of ' Ne reminisearis, Domine !' 


Ne derelinquas me, Domine Deus mens ! ne dis- 
cesseris a me. 

Now fleschly freendys have 1 none : 
Lord I to the my soule I take. 
I hope and truste in the aUme, 
That thou wylt me nevere forsake. 
Thou mayst best my sorwe aslake. 
Departe nojt. Lord, awey fro me. 
To thi mercy my raone I make, 
' Ne reminisearis, Domine I' 


Intende in adjutorium meum : Domine Dens sa- 
lutis mee ! 

Thow3 I in flesch be syke and frele, 

Of my soule, god[e] Lord I take hede. 
In the only is hope and hele: 
Thou art myn lielpe at every nede. 


Thi mercy thou wylt no man forbede, 
Tyl the body and soule departyd be: 
Thanne is to late to synge, or rede, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


IVflSERERE mei, Deus ! secundum magnam 
niisericordimn tuam. 

J\j.ercy, Lord, I ealle and crye: 
Thi mercy is redy in every place. 
Thow5 I have lyved ful synfullye, 
I putte me fully in thi grace. 
There is no synne, before thi face. 
So grete as mercy and pyte. 
To synfuU man thou were nevere scace 
Of ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Et, secundum multitudinem miseracionum tuarum, 
dele iniquitatem mectm. 

To me thi mercy multiplye, 

And lese no3t that thou hast bow3t. 

Putte awey, Lord I gracyouslye. 

My wicked werkys that I have wrowjt. 

Thow3 I thi mercy deserve now3t, 

Zyt it is thi propirte. 

To spare hem that mekely sow3t, 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Amplius lava me ah iniquitate mea : et a peccato 
meo munda me. 


Wassche me, Lord ! fertherraore, 
Fro synne that grevyth me ful ille ; 
That there leve no prevy sore, 
Ne circumstaunce thatlongyth ther tylle. 
Make me clene fro vvoord and wylle, 
And kepe me, for thyn honeste. 
Therfore I presente the this bylle, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quoniam iniquitatem meant ego cognosco : et pec- 
catum meum contra me est semper. 
I am aknovve my synfull lyif, 
That I have led fro tendyr age : 
But 5yf thi mercy to me were ryif, 
To peyne schiilde be my pilgrymage. 
Myn owen dedys, that ben outrage. 
Before thi sy3t accusyn me : 
But to thi mercy I do homage. 
' Ne reminiscaris, Doraine I' 


Tibi soli peccavi, et malum coram te feci : ntjus- 
ti/iceris in sermonibits tuis, et vincas cum judicaris. 
I have synned to the alone, 
And forfetyd ofte before thi sy3t: 
Zyf I will leve my synnes ilkone, 
Grace and mercy thou hast behyjt. 
Schewe, Lord ! how they do unry5t. 
That seyn thou wylt nojt rewe on me, 
Whanne I crye, bothe day and ny3t, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


JEcce enim ! in iniqaitatibus conceptus sum : et in 
peccatis concepit me mater mea. 

Of my modyr I was conceyved 
In synne, and so was every ehylde, 
(After that Adam was dysceyved,) 
Sauf Cryist alone and Marie mylde. 
The feend ther to hath maad ful wylde 
My flesch, my soule with inne me ; 
But 3yf I kunne the bettyr bylde, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Ecce enim ! veritatem dileodsti : incerta et occulta 
sapiencie tue manifestasti michi. 

Zyf I my synne will nojt excuse, 
But telle it trewly as it is ; 
I truste thou wilt nojt me refuse, 
Thow3 I do ofte tyme amys. 
Tlianne thi wysdam will me wis, 
To knowe so weel thi pryvyte, 
That I schal no3t fayle of thys, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine 1' 


Asperges me, Domine, ysopo et mnndahor : lavabis 
me, et super nivem dealbabor. 

Sprenkle me, Lord ! with watyr of tcrys, 
That myn herte be pourgyd clene. 
Wysse me fro my wylde gerys. 
And wassche mv synne awev be dene : 


As snow, tliat fallyth in fyldes grene, 
Is why3t and bryjt, so schal I be ; 
Thanne schal the werkyng be ful sene 
Of ' Ne reminlscaris, Domine !' 


Auditui meo dabis gaudium et leticiam : et ex- 
nltahunt ossa hiimiliata. 

My synne 3yf I no5t defende, 

But asks mercy' with sorwefuU chere. 

And my lyif mekely amende, 

God will my bone gladly here. 

He will no3t lese that is bou5t dere 

Wyth bytter deth up on a tre, 

As longe as we wyll lowely here 

Seye ' Ne reminlscaris, Domine !' 


Averte faciem tiiam a peccatis meis : et omnes 
inifjuitates meas dele. 

My wicked werkys thou putte awey, 
And fro my synnes turne thi face, 
.Sorwe and sj'jhyng is my pley, 
Wher evere T be in ony place. 
I am nojt worthy to have thi grace, 
And ry3twysnesse I may nojt fle : 
But, rayghtfull Lord ! be no5t scace 
Of ' Ne reminlscaris, Domme !' 


Coi' mtmdion crea in me. Dens ! el spiritum rectum 
innova in visceribus meis. 


Myn herte hath be dyfFoyled with synne ; 
My spirit was to the untrewe. 
Clense me, Lord ! therfore with inne ; 
A ryghtful spiryte in me renewe, 
That I may evere synne esschewe. 
And 3yf I forfete, of frealte, 
To thi mercy I will pursewe, 
Wyth ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Ne proicias me a facie tva : et spiritum sanctum 
taum ne auferas a me. 

Fro thi face caste thou me nou3t, 

Thow3 I be untrewe and unkynde. 

Zyf 1 trespace in dede or thoujt, 

Lete nojt thi mercy be behynde. 

Of my frealnesse, gode Lord, have mynde. 

Thyne holy spirite take no5t fro me ; 

And 5yf thou do, how schal I fynde 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine?' 


Redde michi leticiam salutaris tui : et spiritu prin- 
cipali confirma me. 

Fadyr, that art of myghtes most ! 
Graunte me gladnesse of soulys hele. 
Conferme me with the holy gost ; 
And lete me nevere with feendys dele. 
Forsake me no3t in wo ne in wele ; 
For evore I liave nede to the : 
And 3yf thou do, I will apcle 
To ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Doceho iniquos vias tuas : et impii ad te conver- 

The weyis that ben to God in hye. 
Fill gladly I schal telle and teche, 
Wher evere I be in cumpanye ; 
Of tho only schal be my speche. 
To turne synfuU men fro vvreche, 
Ensaumple they may take of me : 
For I cowde nevere fynde othyr leche, 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domme !' 


Libera me de sanguinibus, Deus, Deus salutis mee! 
el exultabit lingua mea justiciam tuam 
I may no3t overcome the feende ; 
His malyce I kan no3t fully felle : 
He steryth my flesch, me to schende ; 
It waxith sturdy and rebelle. 
Of helthe and hele thou art the welle ! 
Fro fleschly lust thou delyvere me ; 
That ry3tfuUy my tunge may telle, 
'Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Domine, labia mea aperies : et os meum annim- 
ciabit laudem tuam. 

My mouth schal preyse the day and ny3t, 
My lyppes to the schull opyn wyde ; j 

The to serve myn herte is ly5t ; ^ 

Evere more with the I uyll abyde, 


Zyf I my trespace will nojt hyde, 
But lowely aske mercy of the. 
I crye to the in ilke a tyde, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Quoniam, si voluisses sacrijicium, dedissetn utique : 
Jiolocaiistis non delectaberis. 

Of beeste that is unresonable. 
Thou desyrest no sacryfyse. 
That mannys lyvyng be covenable, 
And redy un to thi servyse, — 
That is all thi coveytise, — 
That I love God as he doth me. 
I may no bettyr offry'ng devyse, 
Than ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Sacriftcium Deo, spiritus contrihidatus : cor coa- 
tritum et humiliatum, Dens, non despicies. 
Zyf thou wilt ofFere, to God of hevene, 
A spyrit of gret repentaunce; 
Thowj thou be gylty of synnes sevene, 
A sorwefuU herte is Goddys plesaunce. 
Syn thou wylt no5t thi self avaunce, 
God wyll no3t dispysen the ; 
Whil thou wylt make good ordynaunce 
Of ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Benignefac, Domine, m bona voluntateliio, Syon : 
nt edijicentur mnri Iherusalem. 


My soule, that often hath be distryed, 
Graunte me thi wyll to bygge ageyn. 
Thi goodnesse was nevere 3yt denyed : 
There hath no man raatere to pleyn. 
Thi bounte passyth, as alle men seyn, 
All that was or evere schal be ; 
And ellys ray speche were all in veyn, 
Of' Ne reminiscaris, Doraine V 


Nunc acceptabis sacrificium justicie, oblaciones et 
holocausta : tunc imponent super altare timm vitulos. 
Offryng and schedyng of beestys blood 
Were made in awterys, in figure 
Of Cryist, that deyid up on the rood, 
To raunsoun synfull creature. 
Whan I do ony forfeture, 
A contrite heart I ofFere to the : 
Accepte this, Lord, for ry3t rekure, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Doraine I' 


t'\ OMINE ! exaudi oracionem mea[^m^ : et clamor 
meus ad te veniat. 

r\ ERE rae, Lord, T calle and crye : 
Thou art ray comfort in wele and wo. 
Accepte my prayere gracyouslye ; 
I truste fully thou wylt do so. 
Zyf thou fayle me I knowe no mo : 
In ilyspeyr thanne levyst thou me. 
1 am but lost, 3yf I forgo 
' Ne reminiscarisj Doraine !' 


Non avertas faciem tuam a me : in quacumque 
die tribulor, inclina ad me aurem tuam. 
Fro me turne no3t awey tlii face, 
Thow3 I to the be often unkynde. 
Ful selde thovv3 I deserve tin grace, 
Whan thou art wroth, of mercy have mynde. 
Zyf I seke grace, lete rau it fynde ; 
And goodly thyn erys bowe to me. 
Fro synne may no thyng me uubyude, 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


In quacumque die invocavero te : velociter exaudi 

Every day to synne I falle, 
And selde do ryght and ofte wrong : 
Zyf I be sory, and to the calle, 
Lete no3t thi mercy tarye to longe. 
Sprede thi grace on me amonge, 
Whan I have synned in ony degre. 
For trust to the, this is my songe, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quia defecerunt, sicut fumus, dies mei : et ossa 
mea, sicut cremium, aruerunt. 

My dayes begynne to fayle and fade ; 
Thei wanyssche as smoke, whan it is hye : 
My bonys were stronge, and myghtyly made ; 
But now thei elynge, and waxe all drye. 


This is a token e that I schal dye : 
My day is sett, I schal no3t fle. 
I take me fully to thi mercy : 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Percussus sum vtfenum, et aruit cor mcum : quia 
ohlitus sum comedere panem meum. 

I am smetyn down, and bcgynne to vvelxve, 
As hey3 that lythe a5ens the sunne : 
I have no myght my mete to swehve ; 
For dry myn herte to gydere is runne. 
My deth with inne me is begunne ; 
I falle as doth the leef on tre : 
My soule I hope to blysse be wunne, 
With ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


A voce gemitus mei : adhesit os meum carni mee. 
For sorwe my lyppes cleve to gyder; 
My mouth[e] hath no myght to speke: 
I may nojt meve me hyder ne thyder ; 
Myn herte for wo begynneth to breke. 
For stark, my lemys I may not streke. 
Mercyfull Lord ! rewe on me ! 
And wickyd werkys whan thou schalt wreke, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Similis factus sum, pelicano solitudinis : factus jj 

sum sicut nicticorax m domicilio. 
To dreedful deth I am dy3t, 
As a pelycan in wyldyrnesse ; 


And as a backe, that flyith be ny3t, 
I am withdravvyn fro all goodnesse. 
Thou helyst my woundys more and lesse ; 
With thyn herte blood thou wassehyst me : 
As oftyn I kan fynde wytnesse, 
At ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Vigilavi : et f actus turn sicut passer solitariiis in 

I dar no3t slepe, but ever more wake, 
As a sparwe that is alone. 
The feend is busy my soule to take ; 
And frendys have I fewe or none. 
Whan wordely trust avvey is gone, 
All hope and helpe it is in the : 
To thi mercy' I make my mone; 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine 1' . 


Tota die exprobrabant michi inimici mei : et, qui 
laudabant me, adversum me jurabant. 
Myn enmyes often me reprevyn, 
And bakbyte me with outen enchesouu : 
Now may no man othir levyn. 
For wylfulnesse is holde resoun ; 
All day we se in trust is tresoun. 
And preysing prevyd sotylte. 
False othys ben now nojt gesoun : 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quia cinerem tanquam panem manducabam : et 
potum meum cum fletu miscebam. 


Asschj's I eete in stede of brede, 
My drynk is watyr that I wepe ; 
Whan I thynke I schal be deed, 
Be turuyd to asschys, and lye ful depe. 
My deth evermore in niynde I kepe ; 
I wote nojt whanne myn ende schal be : 
In to my grave er evere I crepe, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


A facie ire indignationis tue : quia elevans alli- 
sisti me. 

Sythen thou woldyst my soule avaunce, 
And make me eyr of hevene blysse ; 
I am worthy the more penaunce, 
As often as I do amysse. 
Fro thi wratthe who schal rae wysse. 
Whan sorwe and synne schul vengyd bo ? 
All myn hope schal lyin in thysse, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Dies mei, sicut umbra, declinaverunt : et ego sicut 
fenum ami. 

My dayes as schadeue waxe drye and derke, 
On me no lyght of grace may schyne ; 
Deth on me hath set his merke : 
As gres in medewe I drye and dwyne, • 

My synnes I drede thei schul be myne, 
And more schal I no3t bere with me ; 
But 5yf I make the bettre my fyne, 
Wyth ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Tu autem, Domine, ineternum permanes : et me- 
moriale tuum in generacione\m'\ et yen.eracione\_m~\. 
There lastyth no thyng but thou alone ; 
For here may I nojt longe abyde. 
Whan my soule in peyne schal grone, 
What schal avayle me all my pryde ? 
Lust and lykyng T sette be syde; 
And sette evermore my mynde in the. 
I prey the, that thou wylt nojt hyde 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Tu exurgens, Domine, misereberis Syon : quia 
tempus miserendi ejus, quia venit tempus. 
Have mercy of Syon, Davydes towr, 
That signyfyeth the ordre of kny3t ; 
They schulde be holy cherchys socour, 
And mayntene the feyth with al here my5t. 
Late nevere kny3thod, a3en the ryght, 
Be lost with tresoun and sotylte. 
For we preye, bothe day and nyjt, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Quoniam placuerunt servis tuis lapides ejus : et 
terre ejus miserebuntur. 

Every kny3t is callyd a ston 
Of Syon, for holy cherchis defens ; 
And goddys servauntys, everylkon, 
Thei schulde plese, with gret reverens. 



Thanne wratthe schulde slake, and al ofFens; 
And mercy on erthe schulde be so fre. 
That preyerys schulde turne all vyolens 
To ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Et timebunt gentes nomen tuum, Domine ! el 
omnes reges terre gloriam tuam. 

All peple in erthe thi name schal drede, 
And kynges to thi blysse schul bende. 
Of thi grace a kyng hath nede : 
Mercyfull Lord, be thou his frende ! 
Yov thou only mayst save, or schende, 
Bothe hye and lowe of iche degre. 
Lete hym nevere forfete, thruj the fende, 
A3ens ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine 1' 
Quia edificavit Dominus Syon: et videbitur in 
gloria sua. 

Syon a merour is, to say, 
That God hath bygged and sett ful hye : 
There sytt oure kyng, be trewe fay, 
That schal heretykes alle distrye. 
He mayntenyth oure cherche gracyouslye, 
And kepyth it, (as 3e may se), 
That preyith for hym ful hertylye, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Respexit in oracionem humilnim : et non sprevit 
precem eorum. 


Zyf lordys willen to God be meke. 
And leve cruelte and coveytise, 
Holy cherche to encrese and eke, 
And worschyp God in his servyse; 
Thanne will nojt God prayerys dispyse, 
For Icyng and for the comounte, 
Whan we syngen, in devoute wyse, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Scribantur hec in generacione altera : et populus, 
qui creabitur, laudabit Dominum. 

Mekenes of kynges in bokys is wretyn, 
As of David and Ezechye ; 
For othere aftyr hem schulde wetyn, 
How thei schulde lyve vertouslye, 
And thanke here God, that sytt on hye, 
That forniyth and stabelyth kynges see, 
To kynges that trustyn stedfastlye 
To ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Quia prospexit de excelso sancto sua : Domimis 
de celo in terram aspexit. 

God beholdyth bothe more and lesse, 
Fro hevene there he sytteth in trone, 
How terauntys in erthe his peple oppresse, 
That han non helpe but hym alone. 
As thei dore, they make here mone. 
To hym that all oure Juge schal be : 
For alle here freendys ben i gone, 
Saaf ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 

D 2 



XCTV. § 

Ut audiret gemitus eompediforum : et solverei 
Jilios inter emfptorum. 

God heryth his peple weyle and wepe. 
That lyeth in feterys bounde sore : 
In stokkys, and in prysons depe, 
Thei curse the tyme that thei were bore. 
Here faderys were slayn hem before; 
And they be faste, and mowe nojt fle : 
Helpe ne frenschypp have thei no more, 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Ut anmincient in Si/on nomen Domini : et landem 
efus in Iherusalem. 

Thi name is knowyn of kyng and kny3t. 
In the mount of Syon, that thou ches. 
Thou art preysid, bothe day and ny3t, 
In lerusalem the cyte of j)es. 
Presthod of preysing schal nojt ces : 
For thou hast made thi peple fre. 
Thy mercy hath made a ful reles. 
With ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
In conveniendo populos in unum ; et reges, ut 
serviant Domino. 

Preestys, parfyjt in here lyvyng, 
Schulde teche the peple the ryjt way ; 
And tellyn kny3tes, comounnerys, and kyng, 
How thei schulde serve God, to pay ; 



And stere hem, all that evere thei may, 
To pes, [and J love, and charyte . 
And for the peple synge, and say, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Respondit ei in via virtutis sue : paucitatem 
dieruni meorum nuncia michi. 

The weye to vertew I vvolde fayne lere, 

In hodily lyif whil I have space : 

For my tyme is lytel here ; 

My dayes be waxen wonder scace ; 

And whider I schal, or to what place, 

It lythe in Goddys pryvyte. 

But evere I hope to fynde sum grace, 

Wyth ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Ne revoces me in dimidio dierum meorum : in 
generacione\_m^ et generationem, anni tiii. 
Calle me no3t sodeynly ageyn. 
Whan half my dayes ben i past ; 
Ne darapne me no5t to endles peyn, 
But 3y ve me lyif that evere schal last. 
Thi 3erys ben endles, and may no5t wast ; 
But I am goyng, and hens muste fie : 
Myn hope and trust fully I caste, 
In * Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 
Inicio tu, Domine, terram fundasti: et opera 
manuiun tuaram sunt celi. 

\ r '1 ""'* o 
4 iJ o i C 


First thou madyst both earth and heveii, 
Down to the lowest element ; 
The sterrys, and the planetys seven, 
That mevyn abowtyn the firmarneni: 
Thanne niadyst thou man, ivith dvy'sement, 
In erthe thi servaunt for to be. 
Lete hym nevere therfore be schent : 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Ipsi peribunt ; tu autem permanes : et omnes sicut 
vestimentum veterascent. 

Whan alle the planetys, that turnyn abowte. 
At the day of dome schul cese and reste ; 
Alle erthely thynges schul were owte ; 
Castellys and towrys schul bende and breste : 
Thanne thou schalt laste, for thou art beste ! 
Begynnyng thou art, and ende schalt be ! 
Late me thanne be no straunge geste. 
To ' Ne reminiscaris Domine I' 


Et sicut oportorium mutahis eos, et miitabuntur : 
tu autem idem ipse es, et anni tui non deficient. 
Mann [e]s^es/i shall bee [</]ystryed, 
As clothys doth were with wedyr and Avynde; 
And after ryse and {_be~\ glory fyed, 
In holy scripture as we fynde: 
But thou art unmutable be kynd ! 
There is no changyng foundyn in the ! 
Whan thou dost body and soule unbynde, 
' Ne reminiscaris Domine!' 


Filii servorum tuorum habitabunt : et semen 
corum in seculum dirigetur. 

Thi servauntys and thi chylderyn, in fere, 
Schul be delyveryd fro peynes of helle : 
To the thai schul be leve and dere, 
Evere more in endles joye to dwelle. 
There is no tunge that blysse may telle, 
Nor herte thynke, nor ey3e se ; 
That God to synfull men will selle, 
For ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 

JTiE -profundis clamavi ad te, Domine ! Domine, 
exaudi vocem meam. 
To the, Lord ! I ealle and cry, 
Fro the depe dale of sorotv \^(ind ivoo :] 
Here my voys gracyously, 
And schelde me fro [my feerfull foo.] 
I preye for me and many moe 
That ben in peyne, and mowe \_notfflee:^ 
To dredefull dome whan we should goe, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Fiantaures tue intendentes, in vocem deprecacionis 

Bowe thin erys hyderward, 

And here my pray erys, whan I have nede. 

Of mercy thou were nevere so hard, 

Thi grace thou woldvst never man forbedc, 



That vvolde be sory of his mysdede ; 

Thi mercy is redyere than he. 

Hym thar no more but speke, and spede, 

Of ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Si iniqiiitates observaveris, Domine! Domine, 
quis sustinebit ? 

Zyf thou woldyst venge the anon, 

Whan we have synned, and no thyng spare ; 

Oure lyif in erthe schulde sone be gon, 

Oure raerthe schulde turne to sorwe and care ; 

Thi ry3twysnes wolde us furfare ; 

We durst no3t byde, we my3te no5t fie. 

Thanne schulde many on be ful bare 

Of ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 
Quia aptid te propiciacio est : et propter legem 
tuam sustinui te, Domine ! 

A law of mercy thou hast gyven. 

To hym that wyll no synnes hyde, 

But clenly to a preest be schryveo, 

And leve rebellyoun and his pryde. 

Thi mercy is bothe long and wyde : 

Ther of alle men han gret plente, 

That wyll nojt lese, ne caste asyde, 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Sustinuit anima mea in verbo ejus : speravit 
andiia mea in Domino. 


I am in hope of thi beheste, 
Thi woordys fully I beleve, — 
That thou wylt save bothe most and leste, 
That wylfuUy the vvyl no3t greve. 
There is no man that may myscheve, 
Whyll thou of mercy art so fre ; 
With sorvvefuU herte 3yf he wyll meve, 
'Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


A custodia matutina, usque ad noctem : speret 
Israel in Domino. 

I truste fully thou wylt me kepe 

Fro all myscheef, bothe day and ny3t. 

Wher so evere I wake or slepe, 

Wyth me is evere an aungyl bry3t : 

Thow3 l?e apere no5t to my sy3t, 

Ful tendyrly he kepyth me ; 

He steryth myn herte, with al his my3t, 

To ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Quia apud Dominum misericordia : et copiosa 
apud eum redempcio. 

Thou art mercyfuU and pyteuous, 

Zyf we oure lyvyng will amende ; 

Oure raumsoun is ful copyous, 

For thou art redy thi grace to sende. 

But, 3yf we wille oure synne defende. 

And dyspyse thi lawe and the ; 

Thanne muste ry5twysnesse suspende 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Et ipse redimet Israel, ex omnibus iniquitatibus 

Lord ! ful bytterly thou hast boujt 
Wrecchyd mannes forfeture. 
Whan he was lost, thou hast hym sou3t ; 
Thi lyif thou potyst in aventure. 
There niyjte no pore creature, 
Whan we were thralle, make us fre ; 
For on owre syde was no recure. 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


T\OMINE, exaudi oracionem meam ; auribus per- 
cipe obsecrationem meam, in veritate tua : ex- 
audi \rne,'] in tua justicia. 

To the, Lord, my cause I take: 
Thi doom is truthe and ryjtwysnesse : 
On myn enmy'es a pleynt I make. 
That steryn me evere to wickydnesse. 
Here ray prayere, and redresse 
The malyce that thei schewe to me. 
I leve ray synne ; I take wytnesse 
Of ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Et non intres in judicium cum servo tito, Domifie ! 
quia nop. justijicabitur in conspectu tuo omnis vivens. 
What so evere I have ben here before, 
Deme rae no3t on the hardest wyse ; 
I have do rays; 1 will no more, 
But take nic fully to thi servysc. 


Before so ryjtfull a justyse, 
No lyvyng man gyltles may be : 
Therfore I rede, no man dyspyse 
' Ne jeminiscaris, Doraine I ' 


Quia perseciitus est inimicus animam meam : hu- 
miliavit in terra vitam meam. 

Myn enemyes ben ful harde to knovve, 

That so faste my soule pursewe : 

Thai drawe my love to the world ful lowe, 

That be resoun I schulde eschewe- 

They make me, to the ful, untrewe. 

Out of here handys I may nojt fle, 

But 3yf thi grace in me renewe 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Collocavit me in obscuris, sicut mortuos seculi : 
et anxiatus est super me spiritus mens ; in me turba- 
tum est cor meuin. 

Thei cumbre me in wyll and werk. 

My spirite is ful of wo wyth inne. 

AUe my woordys be waxe derk, 

For thei be mynged with dedly synne. 

Myn herte begynneth to breste atwynm ; 

And hope of helpe 1 kan non se, 

But 3yf I may frenschypp wynne 

AVith ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Memorfui diermn antiquorum ; meditalus sum in 
omnibus operibiis tiiis : in factis mamium tiiarum 


God hath chastysed, for here mysdede, 
Summe of oure faderys, as I fynde ; 
And largely qwytt hem here mede, 
That han to hym be good and kynde. 
His werkys schul nevere out of ray niynde : 
Love and dreed they prentyn on me ; 
That I dar nevere more leve be hynde 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Expandi manus meas ad te : anima men, sicut 
terra si?ie aqua, tibi. 

Often tymes myn handys I sprede, 
And my synne be ful ypocrysye ; 
For I ly ve no3t ther after in dede ; 
Myn herte is fals[e feynt, and drye. 
There ben no terys in myn eye ; 
Tho\v3 I wolde wepe, it wyll no3t be : 
1 kan no3t preye ry3t hertylye, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine I' 


Velociter exaudi me, Domine ! defecit spiritus 

Here me, Lord, and wyll no3t tarye: 
My spirite begynneth to feynte and fayle. 
Suffere nevere my soule rayskarye, 
Whanne the feendys will me assayle. 
Evere he is redy to gyvve batayle, 
And I drede sore his cruelte : 
I have non armour, of plate nor mayle, 
But ' No reminiscaris, Domine 1' 


Non avertas faciem tuam a me : et similis ero 
descendentibus in lacum. 

Turne 005! avvej' fro me thi face, 
But lete me have a sy3te of itt : 
For, 3yf thou vvithdrawe thi grace. 
My soule in synne schal sone be schytt. 
Who so falle in that depe pytt, 
It is so derk he schal no3t se. 
Thanne is non helpe in mannys vvytt, 
But ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 

Auditam fac michi mane misericordiam tuam : 
quia in te speravi. 

Of thi mercy' I wolde fayn lere 

Be tyrae, 3yf it be thi lyst, 

In this world, whil I am here: 

In the is al myn hope and tryst I 

Syth truthe and mercy were IVeendys and kyst. 

There was nevere man, of no degre, 

(But 3yf he wolde hym self,) that myst 

' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 

Notam fac michi viam in qua ambulem. : quia ad 
te levavi animam meam. 

Teche me, Lord, the ry3t[e] weye, 

That I may my soule save; 

Zyf the gospell trewly seye, 

Me thar no more but aske and have. 


Thou were nevere scarce, to knyjt nor knave, 
That vvolde lyfte up his herte to the, 
And devoutly crye, and crave, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Eripe me de inimicis meis, Domine! ad te con- 

fugi : doce me facere voluntatem tMam,, quia Deus 

mens es tu. 

Delyvere me. Lord, after thi niy3t. 
Fro myn enemyes that wole nie ille : 
Thei pursewe me, bothe day and nyjt; 
Thei seke my soule to spoyle and spylle. 
Teche me to parforrae thi wylle : 
Thou art my Lord, and evere schalt be ! 
This is my prayere, lowde and stylle, 
' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Spiritus tmis bonus deducet me in terram rectam. : 

propter nomen tuum, Domine, vivificahis me in eqni- 

tate tua. 

To the lond of ry5twysnesse 

Thi spirit schal lede me hole and sounde, 

Tyl God schal deme bothe more and lesse : 

Thanne schal I ryse out of the grounde. 

There schal truthe and ryght be founde ; 

We schul be demyd be equite. 

There schal no man, for peny ne pounde, 

Have ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 


Educes de tnhulacione animam meam : et in 
misericordia ttia disperdes inimicos meos. 


Lord ! lede me fro peynes kene, 
And myn enray'es dysparple wyde ; 
Whan thou schalt derae alle men be dene, 
There is no man that may hym hyde. 
Make me thanne with hem abyde, 
That schul be savyd, and go with the ; 
For thei ben provyd, ageyn that tyde, 
Of' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' 
Et perdes oinnes qui tribulant aniinam meam : 
guoniam ego servus tuus sum. 
Alle feendys, ferse and felle, 
That wolde my soule schame and schende, 
Thei schul be dampnyd to the peynes of helle, 
Whanne thi servauntys to biysse schul wende. 
That joye and biysse he us sende, 
That schadde bis blood up on a tre ; 
x\nd alle that makyn here last ende 
Wyth ' Ne reminiscaris, Domine !' Amen, 


[Harl. MS. 1845, ff. 15, 16.] 

Legitur in Vita Sanctl Bernardi Abhatis Clare- 
vallis, quod Demon sibi semel apparuit, dicens se 
scire octo versus in Psalterio, quos qui cotidie diceret, 
tanti meriti acquireret, ac si totum Psalterium Da- 
viticum deeantasset. Et cum beatus Hernardus 
instaret ut sibi eosdem versus ostenderet, ille vero hoc 
facer e recusaret; tunc beatus Bernardus, " Scio," 
in[_quit,^ " qtiid Jaciam :* nam quotidie legam totum 
Psalterium, deinceps ; sicque predictos versus non 
obmittam." Quod cum. audisset Demon, ne tantum. 
honum faceret, pocius sibi hos versus ostendit. Sunt 
autem qui sequuntur.\ 

Illuraina oculos meos, ne unquam obdormiam in 
morte : nequando dicat inimicus meus, ' Pi*evalui 
adversus eura.' {Ps. xii. 4.) 

In manus tuas, Domine,| commendo spirituni 
meum: redemisti me, Domine Deus veritatis! {Ps. 
XXX. 6.) 

* MS. scio inquid fadam. 

f MS. sequitur. 

J Domine does not occur hore in uiany Psiilters. 



Locutus sura in lingua mea, ' Notum michi fac, 
Domine, finem meum ; 

' Et numerum dierura meorum, quis est : ut sciam 
quid desit michi.' {Ps. xxxviii. o, 6.) 

Fac mecum signura in bono,* ut \ddeant qui te 
oderunt,f et confundantur : quoniam tu, Domine, 
adjuvisti me, et consolatus es me. {Ps. Ixxxv. 16.) 

Dirupisti, Domine, vincula mea : tibi sacrificabo 
hostiam laudis, et nomen Domini invocabo. {Ps. 
cxv. 7.) 

Periit fuga a me : et non est qui requirat animam 
[meam.JI {Ps. cxli. 6.) 

Clamavi ad te, Domine : dixi, ' Tu es spes mea, 
porcio mea in terra vivenoium.' {Ps. cxli. 7.) 

Oracio dicenda post hos versv,s. 

Omnipotens sempiterne Deus I qui Ezechie Regi, 
inde te cum lacrimis humiliter deprecanti, vite spa- 
cium protendisti ! concede michi indigno famulo tuo, 
ante diem mortis mee, tantum vite spacium, quo, ad 
mensuram, ut omnia peccata mea valeam deplorare ; 
et veniam ac graciam, secundum misericordiam tuam, 
consequi merear. Per Christum. 

* The Psalters read in bonum. 
f The Psahers, qui oderunt me. 

% This word is added from the Psalters, to complete the 


Item alia oracio. 

Domine Jesu C[li]riste ! per illam amaritudinem 
mortis quam svistinuisti pro me in cruce, maxime 
cum anima tua egressa fuit de corpora tuo ; miserere 
anime in gressu suo. Amen.* 


[Royal MS. 17 A. XXVTI. ff. 86 b— 88 b.] 

Wit rctJennc in i\)t llyf of ^fj)nt ISnnartJ, tl;at 
i\)t JScbctlc iSenK to i)tm, i)f fenelu biij. brisius" in tije 
tauter, tijo luijcci)£ btr^iiiS antf a man sey ijcm lucljr 
Kaj), ijc iSdjal ncbcr be iJampnutle. ^ntJ ^epnt 23civ 
narlJ asifeut luljicijc tijep lucre ; antJ \)t mantle I;e jScIjulKe 
ucfier toj)te fro i)pm. ^ntJ \}t gautJe ije toottie elliig 
siap tijo ijol tauter uclje tiai). ^nU ]^e an^lucru'd 
ani iSaptJ, I;e toolti ra5ii)r telle i;tm iuljnclje tijep tocr ; 
antJ 3ege l)it arne. 

* In the MS. is added the following short prayer, without 
a rubric : but, as it was added with a different pen, it seems 
not properly to belong to this article. " Peto, Domine Jesu, 
largire michi in amore tuo modum sine mensura, a^'ectum 
sineraodo, languorem s[i]np ordine, ardorem sine discrecione. 
Amen.' ' 

E 2 



Illumina oculos meos ne umqtiam obdormiam. 

Zyf lijt unto myn eje sijt, 

That I noujt slepe whan I schal dye. 

Lat noujt my fo, in gostly fijt, 

Seyn, ' I have over hym the maystrie' : 

But shilde nie fro that t'oule wi3t, 

That fel out of thin hevenis hye ; 

That he be nonie me nou3[t] my my3t, 

Whan I schal to the ' mercy' cry. 
In mantis ttias, Dominc, commendo spiritum meum. 

In to thi hondus I be take my gost ; 

Lord, sothfast God I thow hast me bou3t. 

Thow quittist me fro the fendis host. 

There I was thral in presoun brou3t. 

My soule is thin, Lord, welle thow wost : 

Hit is to thi liknesse wrou5t. 

To that tresor the ry3t is most : 

Saviour ! for sake hit nou3t. 
Locutus smn lingua mea, notiimfac michi. 

I have spokyn with my tunge, — 

' Lord make me myn endy[njg to knowe, 

Sodenly that I be nou3t slunge 

In fire, that makith gostis glowe. 

But, Lord, that warnist olde and 3unge ! 

Soo warne me, that am thin owe ; 

That I be nou3t in clottus clunge, 

Til al mi syne wey be throwe.' 




Et numerum dierum meoruni qui est, ut. 
'And sene the numbre of dayis myne, 
That I may wyte what lakith me : 
Of deth sende me sum certayne syn, 
Er my lyf dayis dispendid be. 
Teche me to plese the and thyne I 
Lat me nou3t lacke cliarite ; 
So that sum vertu in me may schine, 
Jesus I in plesaunce of the.' 

Diriipisti vincula mea: tibi sacrificabo. 
Thow hast to broke, Lord, in two, 
Cloos imade my hondis alle. 
A sacrifijee I schal the do, 
Of preysing, and thi name ealie. 
Dere Lord I lat hit be so ; 
The feiidus feteris lat hem falle; 
That I may loos and freli go, 
The to preyse in heven halle. 


Periit fuga a me, et non est qui. 

Fro me hath fli3te perischid and failid. 
And ther nis none that my soule wil seke ; 
For they, that han me sore a saylid, 
Sowjt soule and bodi eke. 
But alle here fraud hath noujt a vaylid ; 
Jesu ! thow madist hem so meke. 
Whan thow were to the deth travaylit, 
To save the soulis that were seke. 



Clamavi ad te, Do/nine Deus, tu es spes. 
I cride, and sayde, ' Thow art my Irist, 
My part in the lond of" hem that lyve : 
Ther thow art lyf, lykyng, and list ; 
Ther drede of deth to deme is dryve. 
Tlier is non hongur, ne no thrist ; 
Al care lyth closid undir clive : 
But al the vvele that may be wyst, 
Thow partist hit, Lord, man to 3eive. 


Fac mecum sigmim in bono, ut videant. 
Do with me sum token in gode, 
That they mow sen, and schamid be, 
That have me hatyd : for thow, Lord, stode 
To helpyn and [to] counfort me. 
My gostly fon, that ben so wode, 
Confunde hem, for thi pyte; 
And me con forte with gostly fode. 
That al my lyst be layd on the. 


Stanza i. — " In wynter, whan the wedir was cold." — It was 
the fashion of the poets of tliat age, to begin their poems with 
a description, or at least a notice, of the season ; and, in the 
present instance, the author's devotional poem is much en- 
livened with this introduction. Chaucer's " Canterbury 
Tales," and especially his " Flower and the Leaf," open in 
this way ; and there is a religious meditation among Hoc- 
cleve's poems (quoted on stanza lxxxhi.), which opens in a 
similar manner. 

Ibid. — " Knockyng ujion my brest." — So Chaucer, treating 
of" Penance," says — " Than is discipline eke, in knocking of 
thy brest, in scourging with yevdes, in tribulation, in sufTring 
patiently wronges that ben don to thee ; and eke in patient 
suffring of maladies, or losing of worldly catel, or wif, or 
child, or other frendes." {Chaucer's Persones Tale, Canterbury 
Tales, ed. Oxford, 1798, 4to. ii. 386.) This act is borrowed 
from the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican ; of whom 
the latter ^^ percutiebat pectus suum, dicens, Deus! propitius 
esto mihi peccatori." (Luc. xviii. 13.) 

Page 1 . — Ne reminiscaris, Sfc. — This passage, from which 
the burden of the whole poem is borrowed, is found in an- 
cient Breviaries as the antiphona at the end of the seven 
Penitential Psalms, next before the Litany. Hence it has 
been adopted in the English Common Prayer-Book, and 
stands in the Litany, between the response to the third invo- 

d() notes. 

cation, and the first of the deprecations, in these words : — 
" Rememher not, Lord, our ofiFences, nor the offences of our 
forefathers ; neither take thon vensreance of our sins : spare 
us, good Lord, spare thy people, whom thou hast redeemed 
with*^ thy most precious blood ; and be not angry with us for 
ever." This is an exact translation of the old antiphona, 
exceptiufi the last clause, which would complete it thus, — 
" and give not thine inheritance into perdition." A MS. 
Breviarj, written in England in the fifteenth century, (in the 
editor's possession) adds these words, -propter nomen sanctum 
tuum (" because of thy holy name") ; where it occurs at the 
end of the fifteen Graduals (which follow the seven Peni- 
tential) Psalm";, and immediately before the rubric " Sequatur 
Letania." It is composed from the following texts, partly 
apocryphal and partly scriptural : — 

" Et nunc, Domine, memor esto mei ; et ne vindictam 
sumas de peccatis meis : neque reminiscai'is delicta nostra, 
vel parentum meorum." (Tobit. iii. 3.) 

" Te ergo (|ua;sumus, tuis famulis subveni : quos praetioso 
sanguine ledeinisti." (Hymnus sanctorum Ambrosii et Au- 
gustini, inc. Te Deum.) 

" Numquid in seternum irasceris nobis ? aut extendes iram 
tuam a generatione in generationem ?" (Psalm. Ixxxv. 5.) 

Stanza iv. — " To schiyve me clene and aske penaunce." — 
See notes on stanza xxii. 

Stanza vi. — " Or evere." — So in the MS. but in other places 
er evere (see st. xxii. xxxii. Ixxxin.); and the word er fre- 
quently occurs for before, in this poem. 

Stanza viii. — In the Latin text, omnia is an addition to the 
text of the Psalters : yet it occurs also in two MS. copies of 
the Penitential Psalms, in the editor's hands. 

NOTES. 57 

Stanza ix. — The Latin text omits srd before " /«," which is 
in all other copies. 

Stanza x. — " To the kyng and knave." — " Tho, that thou 
clcpest thy thralles, ben Goddes peple : for humble folk ben 
Cristes frendes ; they ben contubernial with the Lord, thy 
King. Thinke also, that of swiche seed as c/jer/es sjn'ingen, 
of swiche seed springen Ir.rdes. The same deth that taketh 
the cherl, swiche deth taketh the lord" &c. {Chaucer's 
Persones Tale, p. 352.) 

Stanza xiii. — " In town and felde." — MS. " add" for and. 

Stanza xiv. — " Fro losaphath, that gret vale." — Alluding to 
a vulgar tradition, that the general judgment is to take place in 
the valley of Jehosaphat, under the wall of Jerusalem. Either 
the proper name ought to be pronounced in four syllables, or 
the word " gret" must be written and read </?-e/e, to complete 
this line. 

Ihid. — " And cursede wretchys departe fro me." — The verb 
here is not neuter, or in the second person plural, as it is in 
the English translation of this verse, ^'■Depart from me, all ye 
workers of iniquity" (Ps. vi. 8.) : but is an active verb, mean- 
ing Separate those from me; as in the old words of plighting, 
" till death us departe" altered in the modern i)rint to " do 
part." " Departe" occurs, as a verb neuter, in st. lii. ; but 
otherwise in st. liii. 

Stanza xvi. — " Thi mercy, Lord, I muste ataine."— The 
rhyme requires atame, which is most probably the true reading, 
and would mean conciliate, from the Anglo-Saxon atamian. 
The MS. is ambiguous. 

Stanza xx. — " The hand of vengeance." — Apparently a 
mistake for Thi ; as in the Latin, mantis tua. 

58 NOTES. 

Ibid. — " The prycke of conscyence." — This idea is un- 
doubtedly borrowed from the title of the most popular reli- 
gious poem of the middle ages, Hanipole's Prick (or sting) of 
Conscience ; which is too well known to need more than a pass- 
ing mention. 

Ibid — " Un to the.'' — The measure requires the first of 
these syllables to be omitted ; as also " myn," in the first line 

of St. XXI. 

Stanza xxi. — " My synnes fele." — By comparing st. xv. it 
will be seen that "fele" is not the verb to feel, but an adjec- 
tive meaning many. 

Stanza xxii. — " Of thi synnes wilt the schryve." — Chaucer 
quotes this verse of the Psalm thus : " I say, quoth David, I 
purposed fermely to shrive me ; and thou, Lord, lelescdst my 
sinne." {Persones Tale, p. 302.) 

Ibid. — " Whil thou wilt here thi penance dry ve." — That 
is, exercise repentance. That painful discipline was not 
meant by the word penance (as in st. iv.), is evident from the 
whole tenor of the " Persones Tale," especially the following 
passage : — 

" Seint Ambrose sayth. That penance is the plaining of 
man for the gilt that he hath don, and no more to do any 
thing for which him ought to plaine. And som Doctour 
sayth : Penance is the waymenting of man that sorweth for 
his sinne, and peineth himself, for he hath misdon. Penance 
with certain circumstances, is veray repentance of man, that 
holdeth himself in sorwe and other peine, for his giltes ; and 
for he schal be veray penitent, he shal first bewailen the sinnes 
that he liath don, and stedfastly purpose in his herte to have 
shrift of mouth, and to don satisfaction, and never to don 
thing, for which him ought more to bewaylc or complainc, and 

NOTES. 0.9 

to continue in good weikes ; or elles his repentance may not 
availe." {Chaucer^s Persones Tale, p. 281-2.) 

Stanza XXIII. — "Seven sythes," &c. — This saying is not 
Christ's, but Solomon's : " Septies enim in die cadet Justus, 
etresurgety (Prov. xxiv. 16.) Perhaps the poet had in his 
mind these words of the gospel, " Etsi septies in die peccaverit 
in te, et septies in die conversus fuerit ad te, dicens ' Pienitet 
me P dimitte illi." (Luc. xvii. 4.) 

Stanza xxiv. — " Throwgh thi fleschly governaunce." — It 
means what is called in Paul's epistles, ' walking after the 
flesh,' — the (ppovrjixa aapKoq, which puzzled so much the com- 
pilers of the Thirty-nine Articles. 

Stanza xxvi. — Other Latin copies read, in hac via qua 

Stanzaxxxi. — " Have reward." — In modern English iT^arfZ. 
But so Chaucer : " Take reivard of thin owen value, that thou 
ne be to foule to thyself." {Persones Tale, p. 287.) 

Stanza xxxix. — " Thou knowyst." — MS. You; the capital 
of the Saxon letter h (which occurs throughout the Sloane 
MS.) being here made exactly like Y. 

Ihid. — " For erthe I was, and erthe schal be." — Alluding 
to those solemn words in Genesis iii. 19 : — 

" In sudore vultus tui vesceris.pane tuo. 
Donee revertaris in terram de qua sumptus es I 
Quia pulvis es; 
Et in pulverem reverteris !" 

Stanza xlvi. — " Forghyve me my synnes." — The second 
word is redundant, and is perhaps a mistake. 

Stanza xlvii. — " Lokyn in Iced." — Alluding to the custom 
of burying in leaden coffins. See App. II. st. iii. 

60 NOTES. 

Stanza lii. — " That thou wylt me nevere forsake." — By 
transposing the fourth and fifth words, the line may be restored 
to its i^roper measure ; thus, nevere me forsake. There is no 
instance of ' nevere' accented otherwise than on the first sylla- 
ble, throughout this poem. 

Stanza liii, line 2. — The MS. has god lord : which words do 
not seem intended to represent the " Domine Deus" in the 
text, because the paraphrase of the foregoing verse gives only 
' Lord' for that double invocation, which is not used by the 
author in English. The editor's addition of a final e, makes the 
phrase good Lord, of which there is an example in st. lxv. 

Stanza lxii.— " Jwrfi^Mi." — Here begins the Harleian 
fragment, in which the various readings of this stanza are : — 
iine 1, My st/nne yff I tvolle not defende ; and line 5, that he 
houte dere. 

Stanza lxiii, line 2. — MS. Harl. repeats the pronoun, 
thus, thou turne; it omits the third line; reads play for 
'■place" at the end of the fourth; and omits "-thi" in the 

Stanza lxiv, line 1. — Harl. reads ben for "be;" omits 
" to" in line 2 ; reads evermore for " ever" in line 5 ; and omits 
" Wyth" in line 8. 

Stanza lxv. — "Thi mercy."— Harl. my trespas, whereby 
the sense is destroyed. 

Stanza lxvi. — " Fadyr that art of myghtes most."— Harl. 
read as thnu, for " that." The phrase which follows seems to 
be equivalent to maximus virtutibus : it occurs in the begin- 
ning of the Legend of Saint Ede, edited by the editor of this 
work : — 

NOTES. 6*1 

" Almyghty God in Trinite, 

Fader and Sone and Holy Goste I 
Helpe and spede and consell me, 
As tlion art God of mygliius moste." 

[Clironicon Vilodunense , Lend. 1830, fnl.) 

Stauza Lxvii. — " In hye.'' — Harl. an hie. 

Stanza lxviii, line 3. — Harl. reads, me for to shende. 

Stanza lxix. — Harl. adds both, after " shall" in the first 
line ; in the fourth, it reads ivolde for " wyll ; and the fifth line 
stands thus — Yff I trespas I ivoll not hide. 

Stanza lxxi. — " Gylty of syunes sevene." — The Harl. MS. 
inserts the, making the sense clearer, at the expense of the 
measure. The poet evidently alludes to " the seven deadly 
sins," which are thus recited in the elements of religious 
instruction of the Catholics, intitled " Institutio Christiana," 
commonly prefixed to their manuals of devotion. " Septem 
peccata capitalia, quse communiter mortalia appellantur. 
Swperhia, Avaritia, Luxuria, Invidia, Gula, Ira, e.t Acedia.'''' 
They formed the principal topics of the pulpit before the Re- 
formation ; and are largely discoursed of in the Persones 
Tale : to illustrate which, the following short poem is here 
off'ered to the reader, from an elegant little Wiclifiite MS. of 
the fourteenth century, in the Harleian collection. (No. 2339, 
fi'. 116 b,— 117 b.} 

These be the vii. deedly svnnes that suen. 

Pride is heed of alkyns synne, 

That makith mannys soule fro God to twyn : 

To wickide highnes he wole ay ; 

And loveth to myche his owne noblay. 

Him silf he preisith in his thought. 

And othere men he settith at nought. 

G2 notb:s. 

Envije folowith pride comounly : 
Whanne men faren weel, he is sory ; 
Whanne men faren yvel, he joieth withynne ; 
He laugheth nevere, but at syime. 

Wraththe unto these two is knytt: 
To take venjauuce is al his witt ; 
To sle, to smyte, to procure woo, 
To warie folk, to sclaundre also. 

The coveitous man knowith no skille, 
For al this world mai him not fiUe : 
The worldis weelthe he willith ay, 
With right or wrong, gete whether he may. 

Glotenye hath greet appetite ; 
To ete eerli and late is his delite : 
He loveth no mesure of etinge, 
And ay he wole be drinkynge. 

The sixte synne is leccherie : 
To manye a soule it worchith noie : 
But men it leve, and hem amende. 
In fier of helle thei wole be brende. 

Sloxunes is a cursid thing : 
For it is evere weri of weel doyng. 
Good werk he lothith to bigynne ; 
And lightli therof he wole blynne. 

These ben the synnes sevene. 
That reven men the blis of hevene. 

Ibid. 1. 5. — Havl. Sethe thou wyltnot thi seljf enchawncfi. 
The word "Of" is omitted by Havl. in the last line. 

Stanza lxm. 1. 5,— For "as" Harl. reads that; and all 
for " ellys" in line 7. 

Stanza lxxih.— The reading of "iVH«c"for TMnc has been 
occasioned, probably, by the mistake of the rubrisher; who 

NOTES. f)*> 

painted the blue capital N without looking at a copy. Such 
mistakes are frequent in eniliellished MSS., hut seldom aft'ect 
the sense: perhaps the old story of Mmnpsimus, for Sump- 
simus, may be accounted for in this way. 

Stanza lxxiv. — The omission of a letter in the Latin text 
is supplied by the editor, as also at stanzas lxxxvi. and 
xcviii. The only variation of the Harleian copy is, the 
omission of" my" in the second line. 

Stanza lxxv.— Harl. reads oft be, for " be often," in line 
2 ; and on for " of," in line 4 ; adds thou before " bowe," in 
line 6; and omits me in line 7. 

Stanza lxxvi. — Harl. reads in for " to," in line 1 ; oftc do 
wrong, in line 2; and in the thus, for " in the this," in line 7. 

Stanza lxxvii. — Harl. reads chaumje, for " clynge," in 
line 4 ; and may, for " schal," in line 6. 

Stanza lxxviii. — Harl. reads the second line thus, As that/ 
that lie agaynst the sonne ; transposes the words in line 4, 
thus, For drie to gedur my hert is ronne ; and inserts it be- 
tween " me is," in line 5. 

Stanza lxxix. — Mistaking " me" for ne, in line 3, Harl. 
reads nor hedur nor thedur ; it also reads On for " And," in 
line 7. 

Stanza lxxx. — The first line seems to require adyght, or 
ydyght, for the simple participle " dyght." The author 
rarely uses any old prefix ; but i'gone in st. xciii., and ipast 
in St. XCVIII., are proofs that he was not averse to the use of it, 
and intended to say idyght, to fill up his measure. 

6*4 NOTES. 

Ibid. 1. 7. — For " oftyn," Havl. reads oft as ; and omits 
" At" in line S. 

Stanza lxxxi. — " Spaiwe that is alone." — Sparotve that 
sitteth alone, Hail. The same MS. omits " awey" in line 3. 

Stanza lxxxii. — Harl. in line 1, reads me ofle, for " often 
me;" omits "me" in line 2; and reads holden resoun in line 
7, for " now noght gesoun." 

Stanza lxxxiii. — " I wote noght whanne myn ende schal 
be." — Harl. / wote not ivhenne my deth shall be. This thought 
is beautifully expressed in the first stanza of one of Hoccleve's 
poems, a Balade translated by command of Master Robert 
Chichele : — 

" As that I walkid in the monthe of May 
Besyde a gi'ove, in an hevy musynge 
Flowers diverse I sy right fresh and gay, 
And briddes herde I eek lustyly synge ; 
That to myn herte yaf a confortynge : 
But evere o thoght me stang unto the herte, 
That dye I sholde, and hadde no knowynge 
Whanne, ne whidir, J sholde hennes sterte." 

Mr. Mason, the editor of some of Hoccleve's poems, describes 
this as the seventeenth of those contained in his MS. (Preface, 
p. 17, 1796, 4to.) But what has become of that MS., or 
why Hoccleve's poem De Regimine Principum, and other 
productions, have not been published, the present editor can 
give no account whatever. 

Stanza lxxxiv. — " Schal lyin in thysse." — Harl. in the is. 

Stanza lxxxv. — " As schadewe waxe." — Hurl, ben sha- 
doived and waxen. 

NOTES. 65 

Stanza lxxxvi. — " Noglit liyde." — Harl. me hide. 

Stanza Lxxxvir. — After " Syoii," Hail, inserts the preposi- 
tion on; and reads " the ordre of a knyghV in line 2. The 
sentiment of this stanza, and of the next, is more akin to the 
religion of Mohammed than to Christianity : but such was 
chivalry, — an attempt to serve God and mammon upon a 
grand scale. An allusion to it occurs in Chaucer's Persones 
Tale, in these words. " What say we than of hem that pille 
and don extortions to holy chiche ? Certes, the siverd, that 
men yeven first to a knight, whan he is newe dubbed, sig- 
nifieth that he shuld defend holt/ chirchc, and not robbe it ne 
pille it; and who so doth, is traitour to Crist." {Canterhury 
Tales, ii. 3.52.) 

Stanza lxxxviii. — " Schulde be so fre." — Transposed in 
Harl. so fre shuld be. 

Stanza lxxxix. 1. 1. — For " schal," Harl. reads shuld: 
as also for " schul " in line 2. 

Stanza xc. — " Syon a merour is." — The poet strangely 
resorts to this explanation of the name Sion, after his chi- 
valric allegory of a tower composed of stones: he might have 
found something consistent with his former idea, in the same 
authority from which he gained the notion of a mirror 
namely, a watch-toiver. The following passages are extracted 
from the " Interpretationes Nominum Hebraicorum," com- 
monly subjoined to MS. and early printed Latin Bibles. 
" Sion. specula, vel semen ejus. — Sion, mandatum, vel nmnen, 
sive speculum aut speculatio.^' (Biblia, Venetiis, 1497, 4to.) 
In that old glossary, a poet or spiritualizer might meet with 
almost any explanation that might suit his. fancy ; the inter- 
pretations being often as widely different as the poles are fur 


66 NOTES. 

Ibid. 1. 2. — Harl. omits " and sett;" reads sptteth for 
" sytt," in line 3; omits" alle" in line 4; and alters the 
sense, by pntting tn in the stead of " for," in line 7. 

Stanza xci. — Harl. reads to God ivill for " willen to God," 
in line ! ; Jdrke for " cherche," in line 3 ; and For hi/ru/es and 
for cmnm/te, in line i\ 

Stanza xcii. 1. 1. — Harl. reads, in Itnkes hen ivriten. 

Stanza xcin. — " Freendys hen igone." — Harl. reads frendi^s 
away hen (jnne. 

Stanza xciv. — Harl. adds both after " peple," in line 1 ; 
omits " they," in line (i ; and reads Help nor no frendship, in 
line 7. 

Stanza xcv. 1. 2. — Harl. mistakenly reads these che.te, for 
" thou dies." 

Ihid. 1. 4.—" Jerusalem the cyte of pes." — The " Tnterpre- 
tationes" (({uoted l)efore) explain the name thus : — " Jeroso- 
lyma : pacifica, vel iiisin pads. — Jerusalem : pacifica, vel 
pads visio, sire timor perfectus, aut timebit perfecte.^^ 

Stanza xcvi, 1. 6. — The editor has added another con- 
junction, to complete the measure. Tn the Harleian MS. the 
final letter of pese might have been pronounced ; but the 
word is always written without a final e in the Sloane MS. 

Stanza xcix. — The words printed in italics were rein- 
grossed, by an old hand, in the place where some liquid had 
almost discharged the old writing of the Sloane MS. The 

NOTES. 67 

orthography does not seem to have been exactly followed : the 
words exactly agree with the Harleian copy. 

Stanza c. — MS. Harl. transposes the words " ])ende" and 
" breste," in line 5, whereby the rhyme is spoiled ; and " thou 
art" (arte thoti), in line fi. 

Stanza ci. — In the Latin text, the MS. reads " oportorium" 
for opertorium. Those portions of this stanza which are in 
italics were reingrossed, as in stanza xcix; and those within 
brackets are corrections obtained from the Harleian copy, 
which reads the whole stanza thus : — 

Mamies flessh sbal be dystroyed, 

As clothes that weren with wedur and w^'iidc ; 

And after rise and be glorified, 

In holy scripture as we lynde: 

But thou art in iiiutabull, by kynde I 

Ther is no clionging fownden in the 1 

When thou schalt body and soule unbinde, 

Xe remiuiscari.s, Doniine ! 

Stanza cii. — Harl. reads, J'hi childer and ihi servavntes, 
in line 1 ; and adds the before " peynes," in line 2. 

Stanza cm. — This stanza has been sadly botched l)y the 
second hand, and is corrected by the help of the Harleian copy. 
The Sloane MS. omits the two last words of the second line ; 
reads from all woe, in line 4 ; rnani/ moe (where the original 
seems to have been "manyemo"), in line 5; and omits the two 
last words of line 6. In line 7, Harl. reads, shall goo. 

Stanza civ. — Him thar, (Sec. — See note on stanza cxx. 

Stanza cv. — Harl. transposes " schulde sone" {so7ie 
shulld), in line 3 ; and reads mi/ght for " nierthe," in line 4. 

68 NOTES. 

Stanza cvi. — The words in italics were reingrossed by an 
old hand, where the original writing was obscured. In line 3, 
Harl. reads, But dense to a preest hym to schryven : omits 
" his," in line 4 ; and reads and for " ne," in line 7. 

Stanza cvii. — Harl. reads line 4, thus, Thou ivill not 
wilfully the greve ; in line fi, art of thi mercy, for " of mercy 
art ;" and for " ghyf," in line 7, and. 

Stanza cviii. — Harl. reads line 3 thus, Whether I wake 
or I slepe ; in line 6, for " kepyth me," doth me kepe ; and for 
" steryth myn herte," in line 7, sturreth me. 

Stanza cix. — lu line 1, for " piteuous," Harl. reads pre- 
ciouse; and wold for " will," in line 2. 

Stanza ex. — Harl. omits " hast," in line 3 ; and reads he 
made for •' make," in line 6. 

Stanza cxi, cxii. — In the Latin text of the former stanza, 
me is omitted in tlie Sloane MS., but occurs in the Harleian, 
and in the Psalters: in the latter, Domhie is an addition not 
found in the Psalter, but occurs in some of the Breviaries. 

Stanza cxjii. — Harl. reads thi for "the," in line 7 ; and 
prefixes Of to line 8. 

Stanza cxv. — In line 2, Harl. reads tve for " I ;" adds for 
after'' hem," in line 2; and omits " my," in line 5. 

Stanza cxvi, 1. 1. — The Harleian copy ends with this 
line — Often viy handes I spredc. 

Stanza cxix. — " Sythe truthe and mercy were freendys and 

NOTES. 60 

kyst." — Alluding to Psalm Ixxxiv. 1], (or Ixxxv. 10, in the 
English version,) Misericordla et Veritas nbviaverunt sibi : 
justitia et pax osculatcc sunt. 

Stanza cxx. — Zyf the yospell, 8ic. — In this and other 
places, where the Saxon character J (expressed in this work 
by 3) occurs at the beginning of a line, it is merely a plain Z 
in the MS. The reference is to these words : — Petite et dabitur 
vdbis ; (Matt. vii. 7 ; Luc. xi. 9 ;) the phrase " Me thar," 
meaning me oportet, ' I need no more than ask, and have.' 
Compare stanza civ. So Chaucer, — 

" And therfore this proverb is saycl ful soth, 
Him thar not winnen ivel that evil doth ; 
A gilour shal him self begiled he." 
{Canterbury Tales,v. 4317-9; whereupon see Tyrwhitt's note.) 


App. i.~-This article is taken from a MS. of Prayers in 
Latin, written about the end of the fourteenth century. The 
references to the Psalter are added to the several verses, by 
the editor, according to the numbers of the Latin Psalms, 
which differ from the English, (as may appear by comparing 
the two versions.) thus : — 




(1) Psal 

m xii. 4. 


salm xiii. 3, 4. 

(2) „ 

XXX. 6. 


xxxi. 5. 


xxxviii. 5, 



xxxix. 3, 4. 

(5) „ 

Ixxxv. l(i. 


l.Kxxvi. 17. 

(«) „ 

cxv. 7. 


cxvi. 16, 17. 


cxli. (), 7. 


cxlii. 4, 5. 

70 NOTES. 

App. II. — 111 the Legend, lines 8 and 9, the character 3 is 
put for ]>, in the MS. Read rathur and these. 

Stanza ii, 1. 7. — MS. " the" for thi. 

Stanza ui. — In clottus clun<je. — Wrapped in cloths, that is, 
in his winding sheet. 

Stanza iv. — Of deth sende me sum ccrtayne syn. — A sign 
or token before death was accounted a most desirable thing 
in the times of superstition. In the following rubric of a 
prayer, attributed to the venerable Beda, which occurs in 
many antient books of devotion, — a vision of the virgin Mary 
is promised to those who should daily use it. — " Oracio 
venerabilis Bede presbiteri, de septem verbis doraini nostri 
Jesu Christi in cruce pendentis ; quam quicunque cotidie 
devote dixerit flexis genibus, nee diabolus nee lualus homo 
ei nocere poterit, et per triginta dies ante obitum suum, vide- 
bit beatam virginem Mariam covporaliter, facie ad faciem, 
sibi in auxiliuui preparatani. Domine Jesu Christe, qui sep- 
tem verba" &c.— (Editor's MS.) 

Stanza viii. — The text of this verse is out of place: it 
rightly stands the Jifth, iu the foregoing appendix. The 
editor has added a syllable in the fourth line, to complete the 

Ibid. — " For thi pite." — The following is Chaucer's remark 
on divine pity : — " For certes, our Lord Jesu Crist hath 
spared us so benignely in our folies, that, if he ne had pitee on 
mannes soule, a sory songe might we alle singe !" — {Persones 
Tale, p. 303.) 













Ci)e ^erc|) ^ocietp* 


THOMAS AMYOT, Esq. F.R.S.. Treas. S.A. 

William henry black, Esq. 

T. A. CAHUSAC, Esq. F.S.A, 

WILLIAM CHAPPELL, Esq. F.S.A., Trtamrer. 







T. J. PETTIGREW, Esq. F.R S., F.S A. 

E. F. RIMBAULT, Esq. F.S.A. Secretary. 





The following Tract is not included in the Edi- 
tions of Drayton s Works, The original is a small 
black-letter quarto. 

The Harmony of the Church is nothing more 
than select portions of Scripture "reduced into^^ 
sundrie kinds of English meeter " ; and, perhaps, 
exhibits in the versification less of the artist than 
Drayton's later writings. It has, however, con- 
siderable claims to our attention, both as the 
earliest publication of so celebrated a poet, and 
as being now re})riuted from a copy which is in 
all probability unique. ''' 

A. D. 









meeter : meete to be read or sung, for the 
solace and comfort of the godly. 

By M. D. 


I'rinted by Kichard Jhoncs, at the lloso .and Crowno, 
neere Holbornc Bridge. 




Good madame, oft imagining with my selfe Iiowe 
to manifest my well meaning vnto your Ladishippe, 
and in my loue towardes you most vnwilling to bee 
founde ingratefull, either in the behalfe of my coun- 
trie, or the place of my byrth, to the one your godlie 
life beeing a pi'esident of perfect vertue, to the other 
your bountiful! hospitalitie an exceeding releefe : 

Then, good Ladie, my selfe, as an admyrer of your 
manie vertues, and a well-wisher vnto your happie and 
desired estate, doo here present the fruites of my 
labours vnto your modest and discreet consideration ; 
hoping that you will measure them, not by my abilitie, 
but by their authoritie, not as poems of poets, but 
praiers of prophets; and vouchsafe to be their gracious 
patronesse against any gracelesse parasite ; and ende- 
uour your selfe with this good Debora, Hester, and 
ludith (whose songes of praise I here present to your 
Ladiship) to the aduancing of Gods glorie and the 
beautifieng of his Church. Thus committing your 
Ladiship and all your actions to the protection of the 
Almighty, and my short translation to your curteous 
censure, I humbly take my leaue. London, this 10. of 
Feb. 1590. 

Your Ladiships to commaund, in all dutifuU seruices, 

MiCHAELL Drayton. 


Gentle Reader, my meaning is not with the varietie 
of verse to feede any vaine humour, neither to trouble 
thee with deuises of mine owne inuention, as carieng 
an ouerweening of mine owne wit; but here I pre- 
sent thee with these Psalmes or Songes of praise, so 
exactly translated as the prose would permit, or sence 
would any way suffer me : which (if thou shalt be the 
same in hart thou art in name, I mean, a Christian) 
I doubt not but thou wilt take as great delight in 
these as in any poetical fiction : I speak not of Mars 
the god of wars, nor of Venus the goddesse of loue, 
but of the Lord of Hostes that made heauen and earth ; 
not of toyes in Mount Ida, but of triumphes in Mount 
Sion ; not of vanitie, but of veritie ; not of tales, but 
of truethes. 

Thus submitting my selfe vnto thy clemencie, and 
my labours vnto thy indifferencie, I wish thee as my 

Thine, as his owne, 

M. D. 


1. The most notable Song of Moses which he made a litle 

before his death. 

2. The Song of the Israelites for their deUuerance out of Egypt. 

3. The most excellent Song of Salomon, containing eight 


4. The Song of Annah. 

5. The Praier of Jeremiah. 

6. The Song of Deborah and Barach. 

7. A Song of the FaithfuU for the mercies of God. --- 

8. Another Song of the Faithfull, -^ 

9. A Song of thankes to God. ^ 
10. Another Song of the Faithfull. ^ 


11. The Praier of Judith. 

12. The Song of Judith. 

13. A Praier in Ecclesiasticus of the Author. 

14. The Praier of Salomon. 

15. A Song of Ihesus the sonne of Sirach. 

16. The Praier of Hester. 

17. The Praier of Mardocheus. 

18. A Praier in the person of the Faithfull. 

19. A Praier of Tobias. 


Deutronom. Chap, xxxii. 

Yee Heauens aboue, vnto my speacli attend, 
And, Earth below, giue eare vnto my will : 
My doctrine shall like pleasant drops discend. 
My words like heauenly dew shal down distil. 
Like as sweet showers refresh the hearbs again, 
Or as the grasse is nourish'd by the raine. 

I will describe lehonahs name aright, 
And to that God giue euerlasting praise : 
Perfect is he, a God of woondrous might ; 
With iudgment he directeth all his waies ; 

He onely true, and without sinne to trust ; 

Righteous is he, and he is onely iust. 

With loathsome sinne now are you all defilde, 
Not of his seed, but bastards basely borne ; 
And from his mercie therefore quite exilde, 
Mischieuous men, through foUie all forlorne : 
Is it not he which hath you dearly bought, 
Proportien'd you, and made you iust of nought? 


Consider well the times and ages past ; 
Aske thy forefathers, and they shall thee tell 
That when lehouah did deuide at last 
Th' inheritance that to the nations fel, 
And seperating Adams heires, he gaue 
The portion his Israeli should haue. 

His people be the portion of the Lord, 
Jacob the lot of his inheritance : 
In wildernesse he hath thee not abhorr'd, 
But in wild deserts did thee still aduance ; 
He taught thee still, and had a care of thee, 
And kept thee as the apple of his eie. 

Like as the eagle tricketh vp her neast, 
Therein to lay her litle birdes full soft, 
And on her backe doth suffer them to rest, 
And with her wings doth carie them aloft ; 

Euen so the Lord with care hath nourisht thee. 
And thou hast had no other God but he : 

And great lehouah giueth vnto thee 
The fertilst soyle the earth did euer yeeld, 
That thou all pleasure mightst beholde and see. 
And tast the fruit of the most pleasant field ; 
Honey for thee out of the flint he brought, 
And oilc out of the craggie rocke he wrought ; 

With finest butter still he hath thee fed, 
With milke of sheep he hath thee cherished ; 


With fat of lambes and rammes in Bazan bred, 
With flesh of goates he hath thee nourished ; 
With finest wheat he hath refresht thee still, 
And gaue thee wine, thereof to drink thy fill. 

But hee that should be thankfuU then for this, 
Once waxing fat, began to spurne and kicke : 
Thou art so crancke, and such thy grosenesse is, 
That now to lust thy prouender doth pricke. 
That he that made thee thou remembrest not, 
And he that sau'd thee thou hast clean forgot. 

With idols they ofiend his gracious eies, 
And by their sinne prouoke him vnto yre ; 
To deuils they doo offer sacrifice. 
Forsake their God, and other goddes desire, 

Gods whose beginnings were but strange and new, 
Whom yet their fathers neuer fear'd nor knew. 

He which begat thee is cleane out of mind, 
The God which form'd thee thou doost not regard : 
The Lord to angre was therewith inclinde. 
His sonnes and daughters should him so reward. 
And there he vow'd his chearfuU face to hide. 
To see their end and what would them betide : 

For faithlesse they and froward are become. 
And with no God moue me to ielousie ; 
To angre they prouoke me all and some, 
And still offend me with their vanitie ; 


And with no people I will mooue them then, 
And angre them with vaine and foolish men : 

For why, my wrath is kindled like the fire, 

And shall descend to the infernall lake ; 

The earth shall be consumed in mine ire, 

My flames shal make the mighty mountains quake ; 
With many plagues I wil them stil annoy, 
And with mine arrowes I will them destroy ; 

With hunger, heat, and with destruction, 
I wil them burne, consume, and ouerthrow ; 
They shal be meat for beasts to feed vppon, 
The ground invenom'd whereupon they goe ; 
In field, in chamber stil my sword shall slay 
Man, maid, and child, with him whose head is gray; 

And I will scatter them both far and neare. 
And hencefoorth make their memorie to cease, 
Saue that the furious enemie I feare, 
And that his pride should thereby more increase, 
And they should say, and foorth this rumor ring, 
That they, and not the Lord, haue done this thing. 

They are a nation void of counsell quite. 

To vnderstand there doth not one intend ; 

But were they wise, in it they would delite, 

And would consider of their latter end : 
Can one or two put thousands to the flight, 
Except the Lord do help them with his might ? 


For with our God their gods may not compare, 
Our foes themselues will still the same confesse ; 
Their vines of Sodome and Gomorra are, 
Their grapes of gaule, clusters of bitternesse ; 
Their wine is like to dragons poison sure. 
Or gaule of aspes that no man may endure. 

And haue not I laid vp in store this thing ? 

Amongst my treasures doo I not it hide ? 

The recompence with vengeance wil I bring. 

And all in time their foot awry shall slide ; 
For their destruction, loe, is nowe at hand. 
And mischief here euen at their heels doth stand ! 

For why, the Lord doth iudge the earth alone. 
And to his seruants shew himselfe most kinde : 
When he shall see their power is past and gone, 
And none kept vp in hold nor left behind. 

When men shal say, let vs your goddes behold, — 
Where be they now whom ye so mucli extold ? 

Which oft did eat the fatted sacrifice, 
And dranke the wine of the drinke oiFering ? 
Vnto your helpe now let vs see them rise : 
Loe, I am God, and there is no such thing ! 

I kil, giue life, I wound, make whole againe ; 

Out of my handes no man can ought retaine : 

I lift my hands on high to heauen aboue, 
Immortall I, and onely Hue for euer ; 


My glittering sword I sharpe for my behooue, 
In righteous iudgment still I tloo perseuer ; 
I wil send vengeance on mine enemies, 
And many plagues on them which me dispise : 

Mine ai'rowes then of blood shal haue their fill, 
My sword shal eate the verie flesh of men. 
For such my saintes as they doo slay and kill, 
And for the captiues they imprison then ; 
And when I once begin reuenge to take, 
From plague and vengeance then I will not slake. 

Ye nations all, honour his people then : 
He will reuenge his seruantes guiltlesse blood, 
And surely plague the vile and wicked men 
Which stoutlie haue against him euer stood ; 
He will shew mercie stil vnto his land. 
And on his people brought foorth by his hand. 


The XV. Chap, of Exodus. 

I WILL sing praise vnto the Lord for aie, 
Who hath triumphed gloriously alone ; 
The horse and rider he hath ouerthrowen, 
And swallowed vp cuen in the raging sea. 


He is my strength, he is my song of praise, 
He is the God of ray saluation ; 
A temple will I build to him alone, 
I will exalt my fathers God alwaies. 

The Lord lehouah is a man of warre ; 
Pharao, his chariots, and his mightie hoste 
Were by his hand in the wilde waters lost, 
His captaines drowned in Red Sea so farre, 

Into the bottom there they sanke like stones. 
The mightie depthes our enemies deuour : 
Thy owne right hand is gloorious in thy power, 
Thy owne right hand hath bruised al their bones ; 

And in thy glorie thou subuerted hast 

The rebels rising to resist thy power ; 

Thou sentst thy wrath which shall them all deuour 

Euen as the fire doth the stubble wast ; 

And with a blast out of thy nostrilles 
The flowing flood stood still as any stone ; 
The waters were congealed all in one, 
And firme and sure as any rockes or hilles. 

The furious foe so vainly vaunteth stil. 
And voweth to pursue with endlesse toile, 
And not returne til he haue got the spoile ; 
With fire and sword they wil destroy and kill : 


Thou sentst the wind which ouerwhehii'd them all ; 
The surging seas came sousing in againe ; 
As in the water, so with might and maine, 
Like lead, vnto the bottome downe they fall. 

Oh mightie Lord, who may with thee compare ? 
Amongst the gods I find none like to thee, 
Whose glorie's in holines, whose feares in praises be, 
Whose chiefe delights in working woonders are : 

Thou stretchest out thy right and holy arme. 
And presently the earth did them deuour ; 
And thou wilt bring vs by thy mightie power, 
As thou hast promist, without further harnie : 

And for thy people, Lord, thou shalt prouide 
A place and seat of quietnesse and rest : 
The nations all with feare shall be opprest, 
And Palestina quake for all her pride ; 

The dukes of Edom shal hang downe the head, 
The Moabites shall tremble then for feare, 
The Cananites in presence shall appeare. 
Like vnto men whose fainting heartes were dead ; 

And feare and dread shall fall on them, alas ! 
Because thou helpest with thy mighty hand ; 
So stil as stones amazed they shal stand. 
Oh mightie Lord, while thine elect doo passe ! 


And thou shalt bring thy chosen and elect 
Unto the mount of thine inheritance, 
A place prepared thy people to aduance ; 
A sanctuary there thou shalt erect, 

Which thou, oh Lord, establish'd hast therefoi-e, 
And there thy name shal raigne for euermore ! 





Let him imbrace his deare with many a friendly kisse, 
For why, thy loue than any wine to me more pleasant is ; 
In smel thou art most like sweet odors vnto me, 
Thy name like precious ointment is, so sweet as sweet 

may be ; 
Therefore the virgins al of thee enamored are, 
Entice me on to follow thee, — ^loe, we ourselues prepare ! 
The King hath brought me in to chamber richly dight ; 
He is my ioy, his loue is sweet, the good in him delight. 
Ye daughters of Jerusalem, although that browne I bee, 
Than arras rich or cedars fruits I seemlier am to see : 
Disdaine me not, although I be not passing faire, 
For why, the glowing sunny raies discolloured haue my 

laire : 


My mothers darlings deare, with enuie swelling so, 
Haue me constrain'd to keei^ their vine, thus I mine 

own forgoe. 
Tell me, my sweet and deare, where thou thy flocke 

doost feed. 
Or where thy litle lamblings rest about midday indeed, 
Els shall I walke about, all wandring like a stray, 
And seeke thee, after other flocks, through many an 

vnknowne way. 
If that my pathes, oh paragon, be so vnknowen to thee, 
Go feed thy flock amongst the tents wher none but 

shepherds be. 
My true and loyal loue, I may thee well compare 
To famous Pharaos horses great, which in his cha- 
riots are : 
Thy cheeks bedect with precious stone, most louely to 

behold ; 
About thy neck likewise do hang great massy chaines 

of gold : 
Fine costlie borders, for my loue, of gold we wil prepare, 
With siluer studs accordinglie, of worke surpassing I'are. 
Whiles he at table sat, perfumes then did I make 
Of spicknard sweet and delicate, al for my true loues 

sake : 
My loue, more sweet than myrrhe, between my breasts 

doth ly, 
Or camphere that doth spring and grow in vine of 

How faire art thou, my loue, my done, my darling deare ! 
Thine eies most like vnto the doues in sight to me appeare : 


Oh, how exceeding faire and seemly to be seene ! 
The bed where we together lie is hung with pleasant 

greene ; 
The beames our house vphold, they all of cedar be ; 
The reaching rafters of the same of fyrre, that stately 



I AM the fragrant flower of braue vermilion hue, 

And lilie in the valey low ysprong vp fresh and new. 

As lillie flower excels the thorne or litle chyer of grasse, 

So far my loue the virgins all in beautie doth surpasse; 

Or as the barren crooked stocke vnto the straightest tree, 

No more the sonnes vnto my loue may ought compared be. 

To rest by his sweet side, to mee a heauenly blisse ; 

The fruit that springeth from my loue exceeding plea- 
sant is. 

To celler he me brings of wine aboundant store ; 

His loue displaied ouer me, how can I wish for more ? 

Fil foorth your flagons, then, whereof the fume may flie; 

Bring forth your cates to comfort me, — ah me, for loue 
I die! 

His left hand clipping close about my necke doth hold. 

His right doth sweetly me imbrace, and eke my 
corps enfold. 

I charge you by the roes and hinds, ye Jewish daugh- 
ters all, 

Not once to stir in a- wake my loue, vntil she please to call. 



But stay, me thinks, this is mine owne loues voice I heare : 
Loe, how he skips from hill to hill ! loe, yon he doth 

appeare ! 
My lone is like a roe that frisketh in the wood, 
Or like the strong and stately hart in prime and lusty 

blood : 
He closely shroudes himselfe behind our wall, I see. 
And through the gate he dooth disclose and shew him- 
selfe to me ; 
And, calling then, he saith, Come to thine owne, my 

For, lo, the clouds are past and gone, the skies are 

christal cleare ; 
The flowers in the field so faire and freshly spring ; 
The birds do chant with merie glee, the turtle now 

doth sing; 
The fig-trees bear such store that boughs with waight 

are bent. 
The vines with blossoms do abound, which yeeld a sweet 

accent ! 
Come to thine owne, my deare, my darling, and my done; 
Leaue thou the place of thine abode, come to thine own 

true loue ; 
Let me behold thy face, most pleasant to the sight, 
And heare my best beloueds voice that most doth me 

Destroy the subtil fox that doth the grapes deuoure, 
For, loe, behold, the time is come, the vines do bud 

and floure ! 
My loue to me is true, and I likewise his owne. 
Which in the lilies takes repast, himselfe euen all alone: 


Until the day doth spring, or shadowes fade away, 
Be as a roe, or like the harts which on the mountaines 


By night within my bed I romed here and there ; 
But al in vain, I could not find my loue and friendly fere. 
Then straight waies vplrose, and searching euery street 
Throughout the city far and neer ; but him I could not 

meete : 
The watchmen found me tho, to whom I then can say, 
Haue ye not seen mine owne true loue of late come this 

a way? 
Then passing them, I found my loue I long had sought, 
And to my mothers chamber then my darling haue I 

I charge you by the roes and hinds, this vow to me 

you make, 
Ye Jewish daughters, notto call my loue till she doe wake. 
Who's that which doth from wildernes in mighty smoke 

Like the perfumes of odors sweet which merchants hold 

so dear? 
About the bed of Salomon, behold, there is a band 
Of threescore valiant Israelites which al in ai-mour stand; 
All expert men of war, with sword stil ready prest. 
Least foes in night time should approch, when men 

suspect them least. 



King Salomon hath made of Liban tree so sure 
ApaUace braue, whose pillers strong arealof siluerpure: 
The panement beaten gold, the hangings purple graine, 
The daughters of Jerusalem with ioy to entertaine. 
Ye Sion daughters, see where Salomon is set 
In royall throan, and on his head the princely coronet, 
Wherewith his mother first adorn'd him (as they say), 
When he in mariage linked was, euen on his wedding 


Behold, thou art al faire, my loue, my hearts delight : 
Thine eies so louely like the doues appear to me in sight; 
Thy haire surpassing faire and seemely to the eie. 
Like to a goodly heard of goateson Gilead mountaine hie ; 
Thy teeth like new washt sheep returning from the flood, 
Wheras not one is barren found, but beareth twinnes 

so good ; 
Thy lips like scarlet thred, thy talke dooth breed delight; 
Thy temples like poragranet faire doth shew to me in 

sight ; 
Thy necke like Dauids Tower, which for defence doth 

Wherein the shieldes and targets be of men of mightie 

Thy brests like twinned roes in prime and youthfuU age. 
Which feed among the lillies sweet, their hunger to 

ass wage. 


Until the day doe spring, and night be banisht hence, 
I will ascend into the mount of myiThe and frankensence. 
Thou art all faire, my loue, most seemly eke to see ; 
From head to foot, from top to toe, there is no spot in thee. 
Come downe from Libanon, from Libanon aboue, 
And from Amanahs mountain hie come to thine own 

true loue ; 
From Sheuers stately top, from Hermon hil so hie, 
From lions dens, and from the clilFes where lurking 

leopards lie. 
My spouse and sister deare, thy loue hath wounded me ; 
Thy louely eie and seemly neck hath made me yeeld 

to thee : 
Thy loue far better is than any wine to me, 
Thy odors sweet doth far surpasse the smell where 

spices be : 
Thy lips like hony combe, vnder thy tongue doth lie 
The honey sweet; thy garments smel like Libanon on hie. 
My spouse a garden is, fast vnder locke and kay. 
Or like a fountaine closely kept, where sealed is the way. 
Like to a pleasant plot I may thee well compare, 
Where camphere, spicknard, dainty fruits, with sweet 

pomgranets are, 
Euen spicknard, saffron, calamus, and synamom do 

With incense, myrrhe, and allocs, with many spices moe. 
Oh fountaine passing pure, oh well of life most deare, 
Oh spring of loftie Libanon, of water christal cleare ! 
Ye north and southern winds, vpon my garden blow, 
That the sweet spice that is therein on euery side may 
flow : 


Vnto his garden place my loue for liis repast 
Shall walke, and of the fruites therein shal take a 
pleasant tast. 


Within my garden plot, loe, I am present now ! 

I gathered haue the myrrhe and spice that in aboun- 

dance growe ; 
With honey, milke, and wine I hauerefresht me here: 
Eat, di'ink, my friends, be mery there with harty 

friendly cheare. 
Although in slumbering sleepe it seemes to you I lay, 
Yet heare I my beloued knock, me thinks I heare him say. 
Open to me the gate, my loue, my hearts delight. 
For, loe, my locks are all bedewed with di-izHng di-oj^s 

of night ! 
My garments are put off, then may I not doo so : 
Shal I defile my feet I washt so white as any snow ? 
Then fast euen by the dore to me he shew'd his hand; 
My heart was then enamoured when as I saw him 

Then straight waies vp I rose to- ope the dore with 

speed ; 
My handes and fingers dropped myrrhe vpon the bar 

Then opened I the dore vnto my loue at last ; 
But all in vaine, for why, before my loue was gone 
and past. 


There sought I for my loue, then could I crie and call; 
But him I could not find, nor he nould answer me at all. 
The watchmen found me then, as thus I walk'd astray; 
They wounded me, and from my head my vaile they 

took away. 
Ye daughters of Jerusalem, if ye my loue doo see, 
Tell him that I am sicke for loue, yea, tel liim this 

from me. 
Thou peerelesse gem of price, I pray thee to vs tell 
What is thy loue, what may he be that doth so far 

excell ? 
In my beloueds face the rose and lilly striue ; 
Among ten thousand men not one is found so faire aliue: 
His head like finest gold, with secret sweet perfume ; 
His curled locks hang all as black as any rauens plume ; 
His eies be like to doues on riuers banks below, 
Ywasht with milk, whose collours are most gallant to 

the show ; 
His cheeks like to a plot where spice and flowers growe; 
His lips like to the lilly white, from whence pure 

myrrh dotli flow ; 
His hands like rings of gold with costly chrisalet ; 
His belly like the yuory white with seemly saphyrs set; 
His legs like pillers strong of marble set in gold ; 
His countenance like Libanon or cedars to behold ; 
His mouth it is as sweet, yea, sweet as sweet may be : 
This is my lovie ; ye virgins, loe, euen such a one is he ! 
Thou fairest of vs al, whether is thy louer gone ? 
Tel vs, and we will goe with tliee ; thou shalt not goe 




DowNE to his garden place mine own true loue is gone, 
Among the spice and lillies sweet to walke himselfe 

True am I to my loue ; and he my louing make, 
Which in the lillies makes abode, and doth his plea- 
sure take. 
With Tirzah or Jerusalem thy beautie may be waide, 
In shew like to an armie great, whose ensignes are 

Oh, turne away thine eies ! for they haue wounded me: 
Thy haires are like a heard of goats on Gilead mount 

that be ; 
Thy teeth like new washt sheep returning from the 

Whereas not one is barren found, but beareth twins 

a good ; 
The temples of thy head, within thy locks, to showe, 
Are like to the pomgranet fruit that in the orchards 

Of concubines four score there are, of queens twice 

treble ten, 
Of virgins for the multitude not to be numbred then ; 
But yet my doue alone and vndefiled fere. 
Her mothers only daughter is, to her exceeding deare: 
The virgins saw my loue, and they haue lik'd her well, 
The queens, and eke the concubines, they say she doth 

Who's she I doo behold, so like the morning cleare, 


Or like the moon when towards the ful in pride she 

doth appear ? 
Bright as the radiant raies that from the sun descend, 
Or like an army terrible when ensignes they extend ? 
Unto the nuts downe will I goe and fruitfull valeyes lowe, 
To see if that the vine doo bud and the pomgranets 

My selfe I know not I, ne nothing knew I then : 
Let me be like a chariot, euen of thy noble men. 
Return againe, oh, make returne, thou Shulamite so 

deare ! 
Let vs enioy thy company ; I pray thee soiorne here. 
What see you in the Shulamite ? in her what may 

you see, 
But like a troupe of warlike men that in the armies be? 


How stately are thy steps with braue and lofty pace, 

Thou daintie princesse, darling deare, with comely 
gallant grace ! 

The ioints of thy fair thighs, the which so straight do 

Ax'e like to curious iewels wrought by cunning work- 
mans hand ; 

Thy nauell like a goblet is which stil with wine doth 
flowe ; 

Thy belly like an heape of wheat, about which lillies 
growe ; 


Thy breasts I may compare like to two litle roes, 
Which follow on their mothers steps when forth to 

feed she goes ; 
Thy necke like to a tower of costly iuory fram'd ; 
Thine eies like Heshbon waters clear, by that Bath- 
rabbin nam'd ; 
Thy nose like Libanon Tower, most seemly to the eie. 
Which towards Damascus citie faire, that stately town, 

doth ly ; 
Thy head like scarlet red, thy haire of purple hue : 
The king in thee doth take delight as in his lady true. 
How faire art thou, my loue, and seemly to the sight ! 
The pleasures that abound in thee, they are my chiefe 

delight : 
Thy stature like the palme, the tall and straightest tree ; 
Thy brests, the which do thee adorne, most like to 

clusters be : 
Upon the pleasant palme, I said, I wil take holde. 
And rest vpon her pleasant boughes, I said, I wil be 

bolde : 
Thy breasts are like a bunch of grapes on the most 

fruitful vine ; 
Thy nose in smel like to the fruit of al most pui'e and 

fine ; 
The roofe of thy sweet mouth like purest wine doth tast. 
Which makes the very aged lagh, forgetting sorrowes 

I am vnto my loue a faithfull friendly fere, 
And he is likewise vnto me most tender and most deare. 
Goe we into the field, to sport vs in the plaine, 
And in the pleasant villages, my loue, let vs remaine : 


Then early will we rise, and see if that the vine do 

And if the earth accordingly do the pomgranets nourish, 
I feele the mandrakes smell, within our gates that be : 
The sweetest things both new and olde, my loue, I 

kept for thee. 


Oh that thou weart my brother borne, 
that suckt my mothers breast ! 

Then sweetly would I kisse thy lippes, 
and by thee take my rest. 
Vnto my mothers closet sure mine own loue will I 

And be obedient vnto him in euery kind of thing : 
There wil I giue to thee, my loue, the daintie spiced 

And pleasant liquor that distils from the pomgranet fine^ 
With his lei't hand he shal support, and eke my head 

And with the right most louingly he shal imbrace his 

Ye daughters of Jerusalem, doo not my loue disease. 
But suffer her to take her rest so long as she shall please. 
Who's that which from the wildernes yon commeth 

from aboue, 
And in this sort familiarly dooth leane vpon her loue? 


Vnder a pleasant aple tree, from whence like fruit dotli 

Thy mother first conceiued thee, euen forth which did 

thee bring. 
Let it be like a priuie scale within thy secret heart. 
Or like a signet on thy hand thy secrets to impart ; 
For iealousie is like the graue, and loue more strong 

than death, 
From whose hot brands ther doth proceed a flaming 

fiery breath : 
The flouds cannot alay his heat, nor water quench his 

Neither the greatest treasure can counteruaile the 

Our litle sister hath no breasts: what shal we doo or say, 
When we shal giue her to her spouse vpon her wed- 
ding day ? 
If that she be a wall, on that foundation sure 
A princely pallace wil we build of siluer passing pure; 
And if she be a doore, she shall inclosed be 
With braue and goodly squared boords of the fine 

cedar tree. 
I am a mightie wall, my breasts like towers hie ; 
Then am I passing beautifull in my beloueds eie. 
King Salomon a vinyard had in faire Baalhamon field; 
Each one in siluer yeerely dooth a thousand peeces 

yeeld : 
But yet my vineyard, Salomon, thy Adne doth far excell 
For fruit and goodnes of the same, thou know'st it 
very wel : 


A thousand siluer peeces are euen yearely due to me, 
Two thousand likewise vnto them the which her keepers 

Oh thou that in the garden dwell'st, learne me thy 

voice to know, 
That I may listen to the same, as thy companions doo ! 
Flie, my beloued, hence away, and be thou like the roe, 
Or as the hart on mountaine tops, wheron sweet 

spices growe. 


The Second Chap, of the First Booke of Samuel. 

My heart doth in tlie Lord reioice, that liuing Lord of 

Which doth his seruants horn exalt in al his peoples sight : 
I wil reioice in their despight which erst haue me abhord. 
Because that my saluation dependeth on the Lord. 
None is so holie as the Lord ; besides thee none there are ; 
With our God there is no god that may himselfe compare. 
See that no more presumptuously ye neither boast nor 

Nor yet vnseemly speak such things, so proud and 

arrogant ; 
For why, the counsell of the Lord in depth cannot be 

Our enterprises and our actes by him to passe are brought. 


The bowe is broke, the mightie ones subuerted are at 

And they which weake and feeble were increased are 

in strength. 
They that were ful and had great store, with labor buy 

their bread, 
And they which hungrie were and poore, with plenty 

now are fed ; 
So that the womb which barren was hath many chil- 
dren born. 
And she which store of cliildi-en had is left now all 

The Lord doth kill and make aline, his iudgments all 

are iust ; 
He throweth downe into the graue, and raiseth from 

the dust. 
The Lord doth make both rich and poore ; he al our 

thoughts doth trie ; 
He bringeth low, and eke againe exalteth vp on hie. 
He raiseth vp the simple soule, whom men pursude 

with hate. 
To sit amongst the mightie ones in chaire of princely 

state ; 
For why, the pillers of the earth he placed with his hand. 
Whose mighty strength doth stil support the waight of 

al the land. 
He wil preserue his saints ; likewise the wicked men 

at length 
He wil confound; let no man seem to glory in his 



The enemies of God, tlie Lord, shal be destroied all ; 
From lieauen he shal thunder send, that on their heads 

shal fall. 
The mightie Lord shall iudge the world, and giue his 

power alone 
Vnto the king, and shal exalt his owne annointed one. 


In the Second Chap, of lonah. 

In griefe and anguish of my heart, my voice I did extend 
Unto the Lord, and he therto a willing eare did lend ; 
Euen from the deep and darkest pit and the infernall lake, 
To me he hath bow'd down his eare, for his great 

mercies sake. 
For thou into the middest of svirging seas so deepe 
Hast cast me foorth, whose bottom is so low and 

woondrous steep ; 
"VVliose mighty wallowing wanes, which from the 

floods do flow, 
Haue with their power vp swallowed me, and ouer- 

whelm'd me tho. 
Then said I, loe, I am exilde from presence of thy face ! 
Yet wil I once againe behold thy house and dwelling 

place : 
The waters haue encompast me, the floods inclosde me 

The weeds haue sore encombred me, which in the 

seas abound : 


Vnto the valeyes down I went, beneath the hils which 

stand ; 
The earth hath there enuiron'd me with force of al 

the land : 
Yet hast thou stil preserued me from al these dangers 

And brought my life out of the pit, oh Lord, my God 

so deare ! 
My soule consuming thus with care, I praied vnto the 

And he from out his holie place heard me with one 

Who to vain lieng vanities doth whollie him betake 
Doth erre, also Gods mercie he doth vtterly forsake : 
But I wil offer vnto him the sacrifice of praise. 
And pay my vowes, ascribing thanks vnto the Lord 



In the Fift Chap, of his Lamentations. 

Cal vnto mind, oh mightie Lord, the wrongs we 

daily take ! 
Consider and behold the same, for thy great mercies 

Our lands and our inheritance meere strangers do 

The alients in our houses dwel, and we without redresse. 


We now, alas, .are fatherlesse ! and stil pursude witli 

hate ; 
Our mourning mothers nowe remaine in wofull widdowes 

We buy the water which we drink, such is our grieu- 

ous want. 
Likewise the wood euen for our vse that we ourselues 

did plant. 
Our neckes are subiect to the yoke of persecutions thi'all. 
We wearied out with cruell toile, and find no rest at all. 
Afore time we in Egypt land and in Assyria serued. 
For food our hunger to sustaine, least that we should 

haue sterued. 
Our fathers, which are dead and gone, haue sinned 

wondrous sore, 
And we now scourg'd for their offence, ah, woe are we 

therefore ! 
Those seruile slaues which bondmen be, of them in 

fear we stand, 
Yet no man doth deliuer vs from cruel caitiues hand. 
Ovu- linings we are forc'd to get in perils of our Hues, 
The drie and barren wildernesse therto by danger 

Our skins be scortcht, as though they had bin in an 

ouen dride, 
With famine and the penury which here we doo abide. 
Our wiues and maides defloured are by violence and 

On Sion and in luda land, sans pity or remoa'ce. 



Our kings by cruel enimies with cordes .are hanged vp, 
Our gr auest sage and ancient men haue tasted of that cup ; 
Our yoong men they haue put to sword, not one at al 

they spare, 
Our litle boyes vpon the tree sans pitie hanged are. 
Our elders sitting in the gates can now no more be found, 
Our youth leaue off to take delight in musicks sacred 

The ioy and comfort of our heart away is fled and gone, 
Our solace is with sorrow mixt, our mirth is turn'd to 

Our glory now is laid full low and buried in the ground. 
Our sins ful sore do burthen vs, whose greatnes doth 

Oh holy blessed Sion hill, my heart is woe for thee ! 
Mine eies poure foorth a flood of teares this dismal 

day to see, 
Which art destroied, and now lieth wast from sacred 

vse and trade ; 
Thy holie place is now a den of filthy foxes made. 
But thou, the euerhuing Lord, which doost remaine 

for aye, 
Whose seat aboue the firmament full sure and still 

doth stay. 
Wherefore dost thou forsake thine owne ? shal we 

forgotten be ? 
Turne vs, good Lord, and so we shall be turned vnto 

thee ; 
Lord, cal vs home from oui* exile to place of our abode: 
Thou long inough hast punisht vs ; oh Lord, now 

spare thy rod ! 



The Fift Chap, of ludges. 

Praise ye the Lord, the which reuenge 
on Israels wrongs doth take, 

Likewise for those which offered vp 
themselues for Israels sake. 
Heare this, ye kings, ye princes al, giue eare with one 

accord ; 
I wil giue thanks, yea, sing the praise of Israels 

lining Lord. 
When thou departedst. Lord, from Seir, and out of 

Edom field, 
The earth gan quake, the heauens rain, the cloudes 

their water yeeld : 
The mountains hie before the Lord haue melted euery del, 
As Synay did in presence of the Lord of Israeli. 
In time of Sangar, Anaths sonne, and in old laels daies, 
The paths were al vnoccupied, men sought forth 

vnknown waies : 
The townes and cities there lay wast, and to decay 

they fel. 
Til Deborah a raatrone graue became in Israeli. 
They chose them gods; then garboils did within their 

gates abound ; 
A spear or shield in Israel there was not to be found. 
In those which gouern Israel my heart doth take delight. 
And in the valiant people there : oh, praise the Lord 

of might ! 



Speak, ye that on white asses ride, and that by IMidden 

And ye that daily trade the waies, see forth your minds 

you tell. 
The clattering noise of archers shot, when as the 

arrowes flew. 
Appeased was amongst the sort which water daily drew : 
The righteousnesse of God the Lord shal be declared 

And likewise Israels righteousnes which worship him 

in feare : 
The people with reioicing hearts then all with one 

I mean the Lords inheritance, vnto the gates they went. 
Deborah, vp, arise, and sing a sweet and worthy song : 
Baracke, lead them as captiues forth which vnto thee 

For they which at this day remaine do rule like lords 

alone : 
The Lord ouer the mightie ones giues me dominion. 
The roots of Ephraim arose gainst Amalecke to fight, 
And so likewise did Beniamin with all their power 

and might. 
From Macher came a company which chiefest sway 

did beare. 
From Zebulon which cunning clarks and famous writers 

The kings which came of Isacher were with Deborah tho. 
Yea, Isacher and Barack both attend on her also. 
He was dismounted in the vale: for the deuisions sake 
Of Ruben, the people there great lamentation make. 


Gilead by lorclen made abode, and Dan on shipboord lay, 
And Asher in the desart, he vpon the shore doth stay. 
They of Zebulon and Nepthaly, like worthy valiant 

Before their foes, euen in the field, aduanc'd themselues 

in fights. 
The kings themselues in person fought, the kings of 

In Tanach plaine wheras the streame of swift Megido I'an. 
No pay, no hyer, ne coine at all, not one did seem to take; 
They serued not for greedy gain nor filthy lucre sake. 
The heauens hy and heauenly powers these things to 

passe haue brought ; 
The stars against proud Sisera euen in their course 

haue fought. 
The stream of Kishons ancient brook hath ouerwhelm'd 

them there : 
My soule, sith thou hast done thy part, be now of harty 

The hardened hooues of barbed horse were al in peeces 

By force of mightie men which met with many a sturdy 

The angel hath pronounc'd a curse, which shal on 

Meroz fall, 
And those that doo inhabite there, a curse light on 

them all ; 
Because they put not forth their hands to help the 

lining Lord 
Against the proud and mighty ones which haue his 

truth abhord. 


laell, the Kenit Hebers wife, most happy shal be blest 
Aboue al other women there which in the tents do rest. 
He asked water for to drink ; she gaue sweet milk to him, 
Yea, butter in a lordly dish which was full tricke and 

Her left hand to the naile she put, her right the ham- 
mer wrought, 
"Wherewith presumptuous Sisera vnto his death she 

brought ; 
And from his corps his head she cut with mortal 

deadly wound, 
When through the temples of his head she naild him 

to the ground: 
He bowed then vnto the earth, and at her feet can fall ; 
And where he fell, there still he lay bereau'd of sences all. 
The mother then of Sisera, in window where she lay. 
Doth marueil much that this her sonne doth make so 

long a stay : 
Her ladies then, they hearing that, make answer by 

and by ; 
Yea, to her speaches past before her selfe doth this 

replie, — 
Hath he not gotten mightie spoiles, and now dimsion 

Each one a damosell hath or twaine which he as captiue 

takes ; 
Sisera of costly coloured robes, ful rich with needle 

Hath got a pray which vnto him as chiefest spoiles are 



So let thine enemies, Lord, sustaine and suiFer blame; 
And let thy chosen blessed ones, that loue and feare 

thy name, 
Be like the son when in the morne his glorie doth 

Or like the land which many a yeare hath bin in rest 

and peace ! 


In the xii. Chap, of the Prophesie of Isaiah. ■^ 

Oh lining Lord, I still will lande thy name ! 

For though thou wert offended once with me. 
Thy heauy wrath is turn'd from me againe. 

And graciously thou now doost comfort mee. 

Behold, the Lord is my saluation ; 

I trust in him, and feare not any power : 
He is my song, the strength I leane vpon ; 

The Lord God is my louing vSauiour. 

Therefore with ioy out of the well of life 

Draw foorth sweet water which it dooth affoord. 

And in the day of trouble and of strife 

Cal on the name of God, the lining Lord : 

Extol his works and woonders to the sunne, 
Vnto al people let his praise be showne, 

Record in song the meruails he hath done. 

And let his jrlorie through the world be blowne. 


Crie out aloud and shout on Sion liill ; 

I giue thee charge that this proclaimed be,- 
The great and mightie King of Israeli 

Now onely dwelleth in the midst of thee. 


In the Third Chap, of the Prophesie of Habacucke. 

Lord, at thy voice my heart for feare hath trembled : 
Vnto the world, Lord, let thy workes be showen ; 
In these our daies now let thy power be knowen, 
And yet in wrath let mercie be remembred. 

From Teman, loe, our God you may behold. 
The Holie One from Paran movint so hie ! 
His glorie hath cleane couered the skie. 
And in the earth his praises be inrolde. 

His shining was more clearer than the light ; 
And from his hands a fulnesse did proceed, 
Wliich did contain his wrath and power indeed ; 
Consuming plagues and fire were in his sight. 

He stood aloft and compassed the land, 

And of the nations doth defusion make ; 

The mountains rent, the hilles for feare did quake : 

His vnknown pathes no man may vnderstand. 



The Morians tentes, euen for their wickednes, 
I might behold, the land of JNIidian, 
Amaz'd and trembling, like vnto a man 
Forsaken quite and left in great distresse. 

What, did the riuers moue the Lord to ire ? 
Or did the floods his maiesty displease ? 
Or was the Lord offended with the seas, 
That thou earnest forth in chariot hot as fire ? 

Thy force and power thou freely didst relate ; 
Vnto the tribes thy oath doth surely stand ; 
And by thy strength thou didst deuide the land, 
And from the earth the riuers seperate. 

The mountaines saw, and trembled for feare ; 
The sturdy streame with speed foorth passed by ; 
The mightv depthes shout out a hideous crie, 
And then aloft their waues they did vpreare. 

The sun and moon amid their course stood still ; 
Thy speares and arrowes forth with shining went : 
Thou spoilest the land, being to anger bent, 
And in displeasure thou didst slay and kill. 

Thou wentest foorth for thine owne chosens sake, 
For the sauegard of thine annointed one : 
The house of wicked men is ouerthrowne, 
And their foundations now goe all to wracke. 


Their townes tliou strikest, by tliy miglitie power, 
With their own weapons made for their defence, 
Who like a whyrl-wind came with the pretence, 
The poore and simple man quite to deuoure. 

Thou madest thy horse on seas to gallop fast, 
Vpon the waues thou ridest here and there : 
My intrals trembled then for verie feai*e, 
And at thy voice my lips shooke at the last. 

Griefe pierc'd my bones, and feare did me annoy, 
In time of trouble where I might find rest ; 
For to reuenge when once the Lord is prest, 
With plagues he wil the people quite destroy. 

The fig-tree now no more shall sprout nor flourish, 
The pleasant vine no more with grapes abound ; 
No pleasure in the citie shall be found, 
The field no more her fruit shal feed nor nourish. 

The sheep shall now be taken from the fold, 
In stall of bullocks there shall be no choice : 
Yet in the Lord, my Sauiour, I reioice, 
My hope in God yet wil I siu'ely hold. 

God is my strength, the Lord my only stay ; 
My feet for swiftnesse it is he wiU make 
Like to the hinds who none in course can take ; 
Vpon high places he will make me way. 





. . . 1 

In the XV. Chap, of the Prophesie of Isaiah. 

Oh Lord, my God, with praise I wil perseuer, 
Thy blessed name in song I wil record, 
For the great wonders thou hast done, O Lord ! 
Thy trueth and counsels haue bene certain euer. 

A mightie citie thou makest ruinat, 
The strongest townes thou bringest to decay, 
A place where strangers vsually do stay, 
And shall not be reduc'd to former state. 

The proudest people therefore stoupe to thee, 
The strongest cities haue thee still in feare : 
Thou strengthnest the poore man in dispaire, 
And helpest the needie in necessitie ; 

Thou art a sure refuge against a shower, 
A shadow which doth from the heat defend : 
The raging blasts the mighty forth doth send. 
Is like a storme which shakes the stateliest tower. 

Thou shalt abate the forraine strangers pride, 
Like as the heat doth drie the moistest place ; 
The glorie of the proud thou shalt deface, 
Like as the cloudes the sunny beames doo hide. 


The Lord of liostes shal in this mount prouide, 
And to his people here shal make a feast 
Of fatted things and dainties of the best, 
Of marrow and wines finely purified : 

And in this mountaine by his mightie hand 
That same dark cloud the Lord wil cleane destroy, 
Euen with the vaile which doth his folke annoy ; 
And death no more before his face shall stand. 

The Lord will wipe out of his chosens eies 
The teares which doo their faces so distaine ; 
And their rebuke shal now no more remaine ; 
Thus saith the Lord, these be his promises. 

And men shal say then, loe, this same is he, 
This is our God on whom we did attend. 
This is the Lord that will vs stil defend ! 
We wiU be glad and ioyfuU, Lord, in thee : 

Thy hand, oh Lord, here in this mount shall rest ; 
And cursed Moab shall by thee be beaten, 
As in thy iudgment thou of long doost threaten, 
As in Mamena straw of men is thresht ! 

And ouer them the Lord his liand shal holde. 
As he that swimmeth stretcheth him at length ; 
And by his power and by his mighty strength 
The proud and stout by him shal be controlde. 


Thy highest walles and towers of all thy trust 
He shall bring downe, and lay them all full lowe ; 
Vnto the ground his hand shall make them bow, 
And lay thy pride and giorie in the dust. 


In the xvi. Chap, of the Prophesie of Isaiah. 

And in that day this same shal be our song, 
In luda land this shall be sung and said; 
We haue a citie which is woondrous strong, 
And for the walles the Lord himself our aid. 

Open the gates, yea, set them open wide. 

And let the godly and the righteous passe ; 

Yea, let them enter, and therein abide, 

Wliicli keepe his lawes, and do his trueth imbrace. 

And in thy iudgment thou wilt sure preserue 
In perfect peace those which doo trust in thee : 
Trust in the Lord which dooth all trust deserue ; 
He is thy strength, and none but onelie he. 

He will bring downe the proud that looke so hie ; 
The stateliest buildings he wil soone abase. 
And make them euen with the ground to lie. 
And vnto dust he will their pride deface : 


It shall be troden to the verie ground ; 
The poore and needy downe the same shal tread : 
The iust mans way in righteousnes is found ; 
Into a path most plaine thou wilt him lead. 

But we haue waited long for thee, oh Lord ! 
And in thy way of iudgment we do rest ; 
Oiu' soules doth ioy thy name still to record, 
And thy remembrance doth content vs best. 

My soide hath long'd for thee, oh Lord ! by night. 
And in the morn my spirit for thee hath sought : 
Thy iudgments to the earth giue such a bght. 
As al the world by them thy trueth is taught. 

But shew thy mercie to the wicked man, — 
He wil not learne thy righteousnes to know ; 
His chiefe delight is stiU to curse and ban, 
And vnto thee himselfe he will not bow. 

They doo not once at aU regard thy power ; 
Thy peoples zeale shall let them see their shame ; 
But with a fire thou shalt thy foes deuoure. 
And cleane consume them with a burning flame. 

With peace thou wilt preserue vs. Lord, alone, 
For thou hast wrought great woonders for our sake ; 
And other gods beside thee haue we none. 
Only in thee we all our comfort take. 


The dead and such as sleep within the graue, 
Shal giue no glorie nor yeeld pi-aise to thee, 
Which here on earth no place nor being haue, 
And thou hast rooted out of memorie. 

Oh Lord ! thou doost this nation multiply, 
Thou, Lord, hast blest this nation with increase : 
Thou art most glorious in thy maiesty ; 
Thou hast inlarg'd the earth with perfect peace. 

We cride to thee, and oft our hands did wring. 
When we haue seen thee bent to punishment ; 
Like to a woman in childbyrth traueiling, 
Euen so in paine we mourne and doo lament : 

We haue conceiu'd and laboured with paine. 
But only wind at last we forth haue brought ; 
Vpon the earth no hope there doth remaine, 
The wicked world likewise auailes vs nought. 

The dead shal line, and such as sleep in graue 
With their own bodies once shal rise againe : 
Sing, ye that in the dust your dwelling haue ; 
The earth no more her bodies shall retaine. 

Come, come, my people, to my chamber here. 
And shut the doores vp surely after thee ; 
Hide thou thy selfe, and doo not once appeare. 
Nor let thine eies mine indignation see : 


For from aboue the Lord is now dispos'd 
To scourge tlie sinnes that in the world remaine 
His seruants blood in earth shal be disclosde, 
And she shal now yeeld vp her people slaine. 






In the ix. Chap, of the book of ludith. 

Oh Lord ! the G od of Simeon, 
my soueraigne father deare, 

To whom thou gauest strength and might 
the sword in hand to beare, 
To take reuenge on those which first the maidens 

wombe did tame, 
And spoiled her virginitie with great reproch and shame; 
For which offence thou gauest vp their princes to be 

So that their wounds with gory blood their beds did 

all distain ; 
Their seruants with their lords, ech one, haue felt thy 

wrath alike, 
Who sitting in their roial seat thou sparest not to strike; 


Their wiues, their daughters, and their goods, thou 

gau'st, for thy behoue, 
As prais, as captiues, and as spoiles, to those whom 

thou didst loue, 
Who, moou'd with zeale, could not abide their blood 

defil'd to see ; 
Then heare me. Lord, a widow poore which here do 

cal to thee. 
Things past, and things not yet discern'd, thy prouidence 

hath wrought. 
Things present, and the things to come, by tliee to 

passe are brought ; 
Each thing is present at thy call thy wisdome doth 

Thy secret iudgments long before thy knowledge doth 

Th' Assirians now in multitude a mighty number are, 
Whose horsmen on their barbed horse themselues to 

war prepare ; 
Their hope in footmen doth consist, in sling, in speare, 

and shield ; 
They know not thee to be the Lord whose force doth 

win the field. 
Let all their force, their strength, and power be by thy 

might abated, 
WTio vow thy temple to defile which thou hast conse- 
Yea, to pollute thy tabernacle, thy house, and holy 

And with their instruments of war thine altars to deface. 



Behold their pride, and poure on them thy wrath and 

heauy yre, 
And strength my hand to execute the thing I now 

desire ; 
Smite thou the seruant and the lord, as they together 

Abate their glory and their pride euen by a womans 

For in the greatest multitude thou takest not delight. 
Nor in the strong and valiant men consisteth not thy 

might ; 
But to the humble, lowly, meeke, the succourlesse, and 

Thou art a help, defence, refuge, and louing sauiour. 
My father in thy name did trust, O Israels Lord most 

Of heauen, of earth, of sea and land ! doo thou my 

praier heare : 
Grant thou me wit, sleight, power, strength to wound 

them, which aduance 
Themselues ouer thy Sion hil and thine inheritance : 
Declare to nations far and neare, and let them know 

ful well, 
Thou art the Lord whose power and strength defend- 

eth Israeli. 



In the xvi. Chap, of the book of ludith. 

Tune vp the timbrels, then, with laud vnto the Lord, 
Sound foorth his praise on simbals loud, with songs of 

one accord ; 
Declare and shew his praise, also his name rehearse, 
In song of thankes exactly pend, of sweet and noble 

The Lord he ceaseth warres, euen he the verie same, 
Tis he that doth appease all strife ; lehouahis his name; 
The which hath pitcht his tent, our surest strength 

and aide, 
Amongst vs here, least that our foes shuld make vs 

once dismaid. 
From northren mountain tops proud Assur came a 

With warlike men, a multitude of famous high renowne, 
Whose footmen stopt the streams where riuers woont 

to flowe. 
And horsmen couered all the vales that lay the hilles 

His purpose was for to destroy my land with sword 

and fire. 
To put my yongmen to the sword did thirst with hot 

My children to captiuitie he would haue borne away. 
My virgins so by rape and force as spoiles and chiefest 


E 2 


But yet the high and mighty Lord his people doth defend, 
And by a silly womans hand hath brought him to his end; 
For why, their mightie men with armes were not 

Nor with their blood our yoong mens hands were not 

at al imbrude, 
No, none of Titans line this proud Assirian slue. 
Nor any gyants aid we crau'd this souldier to subdue; 
But ludith she alone, Meraris daughter deere, 
Whose heauenly hue hath bred his baine, and brought 

him to his beere. 
She left her mourning weed, and deckt her selfe with gold, 
In royall robes of seemly showe, all Israeli to behold; 
With odors she perfum'd her selfe after the queintest 

Her haire with fillet finely bound as art could wel deuise ; 
Her slippers neat and trim his eies and fancie fed. 
Her beautie hath bewitcht his mind, her sword cut off" 

his head. 
The Perseans were amaz'd, her modestie was such. 
The Medes at her bold enterprise they marueiled as 

much ; 
Amongst th' Assyrians then great clamors can arise, 
When as the fact so lately done apear'd before their eies. 
The sons, which erst my daughters haue euen on their 

bodies born, 
Haue slaine them as they fled in chace, as men so quite 

forlorne ; 
Euen at the presence of the Lord the stoutest turn'd 

his backe, 


His power did so astonish them that al things went to 

A song now let vs sing of thankes vnto the Lord, 
Yea, in a song of pleasant tune let vs his praise record. 
Oh God, thou mightie Lord ! who is there like to 

In strength and power to thee, oh Lord, none may 

compared be ! 
Thy creatures all obey and servie thee in their trade. 
For thou no sooner spakst the word but euery thing 

was made ; 
Thou sentest foorth the spirit which did thy worke 

And nothing can withstand thy voice, but listen to thy 

The mountains shal remoue wher their foundation lay, 
Likewise the floods, the craggy rocks like wax shal 

melt away : 
But they that feare the Lord, and in him put their 

Those will he loue, and stil impute amongst the good 

and iust. 
But woe be those that seeke his chosen flocks decay ! 
The Lord God wil reuenge their wrongs at the last 

iudgement day ; 
For he such quenchlesse fire and gnawing wormes shal 

Lito their flesh, as shal consume them world without 
an end. 



In the xxiii. Chap, of Ecclesiasticus. 

Lord of my life, my guide and gouernour, 
Father, of thee this one thing I require ; 
Thou wilt not leaue me to the wicked power. 
Which seeke my fall, and stil my death desire. 

Oh, who is he that shall instruct my thought, 
And so with wisdom shall inspire my heart, 
In ignorance that nothing may be wrought 
By me with them whose sinne shall not depart ? 

Least that mine errors growe and multiplie, 
And to destruction through my sinnes I fall, 
My foes reioice at my aduersitie. 
Who in thy mercie haue no hope at all. 

My Lord and God, from whom my life I tooke, 
Vnto the wicked leaue me not a pray ; 
A haughty mind, a proud_disdjdnfulMooke, 
From me thy seruant take thou cleane away. 

Vain£_hppe likewise, with vile concupiscence, 
Lord, of thy mercie take thou cleane from me ; 
Retaine thou him in true obedience. 
Who with desire daily serueth thee. 

Let not desire to please the greedy mawe. 
Or appetite of any fleshly lust, 
Thy seruant from his louing Lord withdraw. 
But giue tliQU me a mind both good and iust. 



In the ix. Chap, of the Book of Wisdome. 

Oh God of our forefathers all, 
of mercie thou the Lord, 

Which heauen and earth and all thinges els 
createdst with thy word, 
And by thy wisdome madest man like to thy seUe alone, 
And gauest him ouer thy workes the chiefe dominion, 
That he shoud rule vpon the earth with equity and right. 
And that his iudgments should be pure and vpright in 

thy sight ! — 
Giue me that wisdome which about thy sacred throne 

doth stay, 
And from amongst thine own elect. Lord, put me not 

For I thy seruant am, and of thy handmaid borne, 
A sillie soule, whose life, alas ! is short and all forlorne, 
And do not vnderstand at all what ought to be my guide, 
I mean thy statutes and thy lawes, least that I slip aside ; 
For though a man in worldly things for wisdome be 

Yet if thy wisdom want in him, his is but folly deem'd. 
Thou chosest me to be a king, to sit on royaU throne. 
To iudge the folk which thou of right dost chalenge 

for thy own : 
Thou hast commanded me to build a temple on thy hill, 
And altar in the self same place where thou thy selfe 
doost dwel, 


Euen like vnto thy tabernacle in each kind of respect, 
A thing most holy, which at first thy selfe thou didst 

Thy wisdonie being stil with thee which vnderstands 

thy trade, 
When as thou framedst first the world, and her 

foundation laid, 
Which knew the thing that most of all was pleasant in 

thy sight. 
Thy wil and thy commandements wherein thou takst 

delight ; 
Send her down from that heauenly seat wheras she 

doth abide. 
That she may shew to me thy wUl, and be my onely guide ; 
For she dooth know and vnderstand, yea, al things 

doth foresee. 
And by her works and mighty power I shall preserued 

Then shal my woi-ks accepted be and liked in thy sight. 
When I vpon my fathers throne shall iudge thy folke 

Who knoweth the counseU of the Lord, his deep and 

secret skil, 
Or who may search into his works, or know his holy will ? 
For why, the thoughts of mortal men are nothing els 

but care, 
Their forecasts and deuises all, things most vncertaine 

The bodie is vnto the soule a waight and burthen great, 
The earthly house depresseth down the mind with 

cares repleat : 


The tilings which here on earth remain we hardly 

can discern, 
To find their secret vse and trade with labor great we 

learne ; 
For who doth search, or seek to know with traueill 

and with care, 
The secrets of the mightie Lord, which hie in heauen 

Who can thy counsels vnderstand, except thou doo 

Thy wisdome, and thy holy spirit doost send into his 

heart ? 
For so the waies of mortal men reformed are, and 

The things that most delighteth thee, which wisdom 

forth haue brought. 


In the last Chap, of Ecclesiasticus . 

I WILL confesse thy name, Lord, 
And giue thee praise with one accord ! 
My God, my King, and Sauiour, 
Vnto thy name be thankes and power ! 

I haue bene succoured by thee, 
And thou hast still preserued me. 
And from destruction kept me long, 
And from report of slaunderous tongue ; 


From lips stil exercisde with lies, 
And from my cruell enemies, 
Thou me in mercie doost deliuer ; 
Thy blessed name be praisde for euer ! 

From monsters that would me deuoure, 
From cruell tyrants and their power ; 
In all affliction, paine, and griefe, 
Thou succourest me with some reliefe ; 

From the cruell burning flame, 
Poore I inclosde within the same. 
From the deepe infernall pit. 
From venom'd tongues that poison spit ; 

From speeches that of malice spring. 
From accusation to the king. 
From all reproch and infamy. 
From slander and like villanie. 

My soule, to death praise thou the Lord, 
And laud his name with one accord ; 
For death was readie thee to take. 
And thou neare the infernall lake. 

They compassed me round about, 
But there was none to helpe me out ; 
I look'd when succour would appeare, 
But there was none that would come neare. 


Vpon thy mercies then I thought, 
And on the wonders thou hast wrought, 
How from destruction thou doost saue 
Such as in thee affiance haue : 

In praier then I did perseuer, 

That thou from death wouldst me deliuer ; 

Vnto the Lord I crie and call. 

That he would rid me out of thrall. 

Therefore I still will praise thy name, 
And euer thanke thee for the same ; 
My praiers shall of thee be heard, 
And neuer from thy eares debard : 

Thou sau'st me from destruction, 
And other mischiefs more than one ; 
Therefore wil I praise thee, O Lord, 
And in my songs thy name record ! 


In the xiiii. Chap, of Hester. 

O MIGHTY Lord, thou art our God ! to thee for aid I 

To help a woman desolate, sith danger now is nie. 
Euen from my youth I oft haue hard my predecessors 



That from amongst the nations all thou chosest Israeli, 
And chosest those our fathers were from theirs that 

went before, 
To be thine owne, and hast perform'd thy promise 

Now, Lord, we haue committed sin most grieuous in 

thine eies ; 
Wherfore thou hast deliuered vs vnto our enemies ; 
Because that to their heathen gods with worship we 

haue gone. 
Knowing that thou art God the Lord, the righteous 

Lord alone. 
Yet not content nor satisfied with these our captiues 

But with their idols they themselues haue ioin'd and 

shaken hands. 
Quite to abolish and subuert what thou appointed hast, 
And tliis thine owne inheritance euen vtterly to waste. 
To shut and stop the mouthes of those that yeeld thee 

thanks and praise. 
Thy glorious temples to defile, thine altars vp to raise. 
And to induce the heathen folke to laud their idols 

To magnifie a fleshly king, a man, a mortall wight. 
Then let not such the scepter sway whose glorie is of 

Least they deride vs when that we to miserie are brought, 
And those deuises they haue wrought t' intangle vs 

May turne vnto their owne decay, and on their heads 
may fall. 


Remember, Lord, and shew thy selfe to vs in time of need, 
And strengthen me, thou King of kings, and Lord of 

power indeed ; 
Instruct my tongue with eloquence, my speaches to 

Before the lions face, and by thy wisdome turne his 

To hate our deadly enemie, so wholly bent to ill, — 
Destroy him and al such as doo consent vnto his will ; 
But let thy hand deliuer vs, and help and succour me, 
Sith I am now left comfortlesse, and haue no help but 

Thou know'st right well all things, O Lord ! and this 

thou knowest then, 
I hate the glory and the pompe of wicked sinful men, 
And vtterly detest the bed of any heathen wight, 
Vncircumcised, most vnpure, and odious in thy sight : 
Thou knowest my necessitie, and that with hate I beare 
This token of preheminence which on my head I weare, 
And as a filthy menstruous cloath I take thereof such 

As, being by my selfe alone, I neuer weare the same ; 
And that at Hamans table yet thy handmaid hath not fed, 
Nor tooke delight in princes feast, nor drank wine 

offered ; 
And neuer ioi'd in any thing, since first I hether came, 
Vntil this day, but in the Lord, thou God of Abraham ! 
Oh thou, the high and mightie God, heare thou the 

voice and crie 
Of them, whose hope, whose trust, and stay only on 

thee doth lie ! 


And now in need deliuer vs out of their cruell hand, 
And from the dread and feare, O Lord, wherin we 
dayly stand ! 


In the xiii. Chap, of Hester. 

Oh Lord, my Lord, that art the King of might, 

Within whose power all thinges their being haue ! 

Who may withstand that liueth in thy sight. 

If thou thy chosen Israeli wilt saue ? 

For thou hast made the earth and heauen aboue. 
And al things els that in the same do mooue. 

Thou madest all things, and they are all thine own, 
And there is none that may resist thy wiU : 
Thou know'st all things, and this of thee is knowne, 
I did not erst for malice nor for ill. 

Presumption nor vaine glorie els at all. 
Come nor bow downe vnto proud Hamans call. 

I could haue bin content for Israels sake 
To kisse the soles euen of his verie feet. 
But that I would not mans vaine honor take 
Before Gods glorie, being so vnmeet, 

And would not worship none, O Lord, but thee ! 

And not of pride, as thou thy selfe doost see. 


Therefore, oh Lord, my God and heauenly King, 
Haue mercie on the people thou hast bought ! 
For they imagine and deuise the thing 
How to destroy and bring vs vnto nought. 
Thine heritance, which thou so long hast fed, 
And out so far from Egypt land hast led. 

Oh, heare my praier, and mercie doe extend 

Vpon thy portion of inheritance ! 

For sorrowe now some ioy and solace send, 

That we may Hue thy glorie to aduance ; 

And suffer not their mouthes shut vp, oh Lord, 
Which stil thy name with praises doo record ! 


The xxxvi. Chap, of Ecclesiasticus. 

Haue mercie on vs, blessed Lord, 
Wliich madest all thinges with thy word ; 
Behold vs, Sauiour, from aboue, 
Illuminate vs with thy loue : 

And let the wicked dread thy name. 
Which neuer sought vnto the same. 
And knowe that thou art God alone, 
And like in woonders to be none. 


Oil Lord, lift vp thy mightie hand ! 
The world thy power shall vnderstand : 
As by vs thou art sanctified, 
By them so be thou magnified ; 

That they may learne thy power to knowe, 
As we that be thy seruantes doo : 
Thou art the lining Lord alone, 
And other goddes besides thee none. 

Renew the signes, Lord, thou hast showne, 
And let thy woonderous woorks be knowne ; 
Declare the strength of thy right hand, 
Let them thy power vnderstand : 

Arise to iudgment in thine yre, 
Poure out thy wrath as hot as fire ; 
Destroy the cruell aduersarie. 
To spoile our foes. Lord, doo not tarie : 

Shorten thou these wicked dales ; 
Thinke on thine oath at all assaies ; 
Let thy woonders. Lord, appeare, 
And be thou praised farre and neare : 

Li burning fire, Lord, let them die 
Which doe escape and seek to flie ; 
And let them perish with annoy 
Which seeke thy people to destroy : 


Cleaue thou the heads of mighty kings, 
Our enemies in godly things ; 
And let the world behold and see 
That we are chosen vnto thee : 

Lord, gather lacob vnto thee. 
That they thy might and power may see. 
That they thy wondrous works may shoAv, 
And to be thine themselues may know. 

Vnto thy folke impute no blame 
Which euer cald vpon thy name ; 
To Israel, Lord, be thou milde, 
Thy only heir, thy first borne child ; 

Vnto lerusalem shew pitie. 
Thy sanctuarie and thy citie ; 
Blesse Sion where thy prophets line. 
Thy glorie to thy people giue : 

And be thou witnesse vnto those 
Which haue bene thine still to dispose, 
And raise them vp, oh Lord, on hie. 
Which in thy name doo prophesie ! 

Reward them. Lord, that waite for thee, 
That they thy prophets trueth may see ; 
Heare thou thy seruants praier, oh Lord, 
As thou to Aaron gauest thy word ! 


Guide vs in way of rigliteousnesse : 
The earth thy glorie shall expresse ; 
And to the world it shall be knowne, 
Thou art eternall and alone. 


Tobias, Chap. xiii. 

Bless'd be that King which euermore shal raign, 
So euer may his kingdome blessed be ! 
Which punisheth and pittieth againe, 
Which sends to hell and likewise setteth free ; 

Before whose presence may no creature stand, 

Nor any thing auoid his heauie hand. 

Ye children of his chosen Israeli, 
Before the Gentles stil confesse his name. 
With whom he hath appointed you to dwell, 
Euen there, I say, extol and laude his fame : 

He is a Lord and God most gracious, 

And still hath bene a father vnto vs. 

He wil scourge vs for our iniquitie ; 
Yet mercie will he take on vs againe, 
And from those nations gathered shall we be. 
With whom as strangers now we do remaine, 
Yf in your harts he shal repentance find, 
And turne to him with zeale and willing mind. 


When as your dealings shall be found vpright, 
Then wil he tuini his face from you no more^ 
Nor thenceforth liide his presence from your sight, 
But lend liis mercie then, laid vp in store ; 
Therefore confesse his name, and praises sing 
To that most great and highest heauenly King. 

1 will confesse him in captiuitie, 
And to a wicked people sliewe his might : 
Oh, turne to him, vile sinners that you be, 
And doo the thing is vpright in liis sight ! 
Who's there can tell if he will mercie showe. 
Or take compassion on you, yea or noe ? 

1 will extoll and laude thy name alwaies. 
My soule, the praise of heauens King expresse ; 
All tongues on earth shall spread abroad his praise, 
All nations shew foorth his righteousnesse ; 
Jerusalem, thou shalt be scourged then, 
But he wil spai-e the sonnes of righteous men. 

Fade not to giue the Lord his praises due. 

And still extoll that euerlasting King ; 

And help to build his tabernacle newe, 

In which his saints shall euer sit and sing. 

In which the captiues shall haue end of griefe. 
In which the poore shall euer find reliefe. 

Many shall come from countries ftir and neare, 
And shall great giftes vnto his presence bring ; 


Many before his presence shall appeare, 
And shal reioice in this great heauenly King : 
Cursed be those which hate thy blessed name, 
But bless'd be those which loue and like the same. 

Triumph with ioy, ye that be good and iust ; 

Though scattered now, yet shaU you gathered be ; 

Then in the Lord fix all your hope and trust, 

And rest in peace till you these blessings see : 

Blessed be those which haue bin touch'd with griefe, 
When they haue seen thee scourg'd and want reliefe. 

Those only shall reioice with thee againe, 
And those shall be partakers of thy glorie, 
And shall in blisse for ay with thee remaine, 
Now passed once these troubles transitorie : 
Then, oh my soule, see thou reioice and sing, 
And laud the great and highest heuenly King ! 

And he will build Jerusalem full faire 
With emeralds and saphyrs of great price ; 
With precious stones he will her walles repaire. 
Her towers of golde with worke of rare deuice ; 
And all her streetes with berall will he paue. 
With carbunckles and ophirs passing braue : 

And all her people there shall sit and say, 
Praised be God with Aleluiah ! 



P. 3. Dedication, last line but three, " censure" i. e. opinion, 

P. 10. last line but three, " in it theij wnnld dclitc." Old ed. 
"in, it they woule delite" — a misprint, as is shewn by 
" would " in the next line. 

P. 11. line 4, " bitteruesse." Old ed. " bittenesse." 

P. 15. last line, " laire," i. e. leer, skin, complexion. 

P. 16. last line but two, " Or camphere that doth spring and 
yroio in vine of Emjady." Here " vine " is used for 
vineyard. Our authorized version has, " My beloved is 
unto me as a cluster of camphire in the vinei/ards of 

P. 17. line 7, "chyer of grasse." Qy. does "chyer" mean 
spire ? 

last line but three, " clipjuny," i. e. embracing, en- 

P. 19. line 4, "fere," i. e. companion. 

line 7, " tho," i. e. then. 

last line but one, " readi/ prest," i. e. ready prepared, 


70 NOTES. 

P. 21. line 15, " kai/" i. e. key. 

last Hue but four, " moe," i. e. more. 

P. 23. line 2, " nould," i. e. ne would,— would not. 

" at all." Old ed. " at at all." 

P. 24. line 3, '■'^ make," i. e. mate. 

P. 25. line 6, " ne" i. e. nor. 

P. 27. last line but 3, " disease," i. e. trouble, disturb. 

P. 29. line 2, " Tivo thousand." Old ed. " Two twousand.' 
Compare the preceding line. 

P. 30. last line but five, " pursude." Old ed. " pusude." 

P. 35. line 7, " cueri/ del." i. e. everi/ part. 

last line but three, " yarhoils" i. e. commotions, tumults. 

Coles has, "A Ga?-&oi/, turba, rixa, contentio." Diet. Ii> 
our authorized version the present passage stands, — 
" then was ivar in the gates." 

P. 37. line 4, ''fights." Old ed. " light." 

P. 43. title, " XV. Chap." Ought to be "xxv. Chap." 

P. 45. title, " xvi. Chap." Ought to be " xxvi. Chap." 

P. 51. line 10, ''renomie". Old ed. "renowme", — which, 
though a common form of the word in early writers, 
must be a misprint here because it is against the rhyme. 

P. 58. line 1, " exercisde". Old ed. " exrcisde." 

P. 64. line 18, " at all assaies^\ This expression, not unfre- 
quently found in our old writers, is thus renderetl by 

NOTES. 71 

Palsgrave, " En tous poynts, or a tons poynts." Lesclar. 
de la Lang. Fr. 1530, fol. ccccxxxviii. (Table of Ad- 
iierlies) ; and Homian has, " He is a frende at all assaycs. 
Omnium horaruni amicus est." Vulgaria, sig. y iiii. 
ed. 1630. 

P. ()8. last line but two, " ophirs," i. e. (as in our authorized 
version) " stones of Ophir." 














We percp ^ockt^* 


THOMAS AMYOT, Esq. F.R.S., Treas. S.A. 


J. A. CAHUSAC, Esq. F.S.A. 

WILLIAM CHAPPELL, Esq. F.S.A., Treasurer. 







T. .1. PETTIGREW, Esq. F.R S., F.S.A. 

E. F. RIMBAULT, Esq. F.S.A. Secretary. 





The following little tract is extremely curious, as 
forming one of the links between the wit of the 
middle ages, and that of modern times. There is 
scarcely one of the merry tales contained in it 
which has not its counterpart among the numerous 
Latin stories of the monks, which were popular in 
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. On this 
account we are justified in supposing that it is 
only a reproduction of a work of a much earlier 
date than any of the known editions. It was 
perhaps one of the little black-letter books of the 
earlier times of printing in England. 

There must have been an edition of the present 
work in or before 1601, for on the 3rd of August of 
that year, was entered in the Stationers' register, 
by W. Firebrand, the printer of the earliest 

edition now in existence, " the second parte of 
Jack of Dover." The present edition is reprinted 
from the copy of the earliest known edition now 
preserved among the books of the late Mr. Douce, 
in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. The second 
part, or " Penniles Parliament,"" was reprinted in 
the Harleian Miscellany, from an edition printed 
in 1608. In the Malone Library there is an 
edition printed at London in 1615. 

The origin of the name of Jack of Dover appears 
to be unknown; and its application is not quite 
clear from the present book. Chaucer applies the 
name to some kind of article sold by the Cook : — 

" And many a Jacke of Do\er hast thou sold, 
That hath bene twies hot and twies cold." 

The Cokes PROLOGrE. 






Printed for William Ferbraiid, and are to be sold in 

Popes head Ally, over against the Taverne doore, 

neare the Exchange. 



OF mauiRiE. 

When meny Jacke of Dover had made his privie 
search for the Foole of all Fooles, and making his 
inquirie in most of the principall places in England, 
at his I'etm'ne home was adjudged to be the foole him- 
sclfe : but now, wearied with the motley coxcombe, he 
hath undertaken in some place or other to finde out a 
verier foole than himselfe. But first of all comming 
to London he went into Paules church, where, walking 
veiy melancholy in the middle ile with captaine Thin- 
gut and his fellowes, he was invited to dine at duke 
Humphries ordinarie, where amongst many other good 
stomackes that repayred to his bountifull feast, there 
came in a whole jury of pennilesse poets, who, being 
fellowes of a merry disposition (but as necessary in a 
common-wealth as a candle in a straw-bed) hee accepted 
of their company ; and as from poets commeth all kind 
of foolerie, so he hoped by their good! directions to 
find out this Foole of all Fooles so long lookt for : so 
thinking to passe away the dinner time with some 
pleasant chat, least (being overcloyde with too many 
delicates) they should surfet, he discovered to them his 
merry meaning, who being glad of so good an occasion 


of mirth, instead of a cup of sacke and sugar for dis- 
jestion, these men of litle wit began to make inquirie 
and to search for this aforesayde foole, thinking it a 
deede of charitie to ease him of so great a bui'then as 
his motley coxcombe was, and because such weake 
braines as are now resident almost in every place might 
take benefite hereat. In this manner began the inquirie. 


Upon a time (quoth one of the jurie) it was my chaunce 
to be in the cittie of Herforde, when lodging in an 
inn I was tolde of a certain silly witted gentleman there 
dwelling, that wold assuredly beleeve all things that he 
heard for a truth, to whose house I went upon a sleeveles 
arrand, and finding occasion to be acquainted with him, 
I was well entertained, and for three daj-es space had 
my bed and boord in his house, where amongst many 
other fooleries, I being a traveller made him beleeve 
that tlie steeple in Burndwood in Essex sayled in one 
night as far as Callis in Fraunce, and afterward re- 
turned againe to his proper place. Another time I 
made him beleeve that in the forest of Sherwood in 
Nottinghamshire were scene five hundi'cd of the king 
of Spaines galHes, which went to besiedge Robbin- 
hoodes well, and that fourty thousand schollers with 
elderne squirts performed such a peece of service, as 
they were all in a manner broken and overthi'owne in 
the forrest. Another time I made him beleeve that 
Westminster hall, for suspition of treason, was banished 


for ten years into Staffordshire. And last of all, I 
made him beleeve that a tinker should be bayted to 
death at Canterbury for getting two and twenty children 
in a yeere : whereupon, to proove me a Iyer, he tooke 
his horse and rode thither; and I, to verrifie him a 
foole, tooke my horse and rode hither. Well, quoth 
Jack of Dover, this in my minde was pretty foolerie, 
but yet the Foole of all Fooles is not heere found that 
I looke for. 


And it was my chaunce (quoth another of the jurie) 
upon a time to be at Huntington, where I heard tell 
of a simple shoomaker there dwelling, who having two 
litle boyes, whom he made a vaunt to bring up to 
learning, the better to maintaine themselves when they 
were men ; and having . kept them a yeere or two at 
schoole, he examined them, saying : My good boy 
(quoth he to one of them) what doest thou learne ? and 
where is thy lesson ? Oh, father, said the boy, I am 
past grace. And where art thou? quoth he to the 
other boy, who likewise answered, that he was at the 
divell and all his workes. Now, Lord blesse us, quoth 
the shoomaker, whither are my children learning ? the 
one is already past grace, and the other at the divell and 
all his workes : whereupon he tooke them both from 
schoole, and set them to liis owne occupation. Well, 
quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my mind was pretty 
foolery, but yet the Foole of Fooles is not heere found 
that I looke for. 



Not many yeeres ago (sayd another of the jurie) it 
was my chaunce to be at Bedford, where in the time of 
my continuance there, the wives of that same place 
strove to exceed one another in brave apparell, and 
shee deemed herselfe the best woman that could get 
her garments made of the most finest and strangest 
fashion ; but, amongst the rest, there was a certaine 
drapers wife, that although she could not put all other 
women downe in her upper garments, she meant to 
exceed them in her lower ; and therefore, when other 
women had their stockings of wosted, jersie, silke, and 
such like, she got her selfe a paire made of the finest 
satten, and which shee continually put on when she 
went abroad with her neighbours, and who but shee 
(for the same) was talkt of almost in every company. 
Thus for a long time bore she the bel away, and for 
that fashion exceeded all her neighbours wives. But 
now marke what happened in the end. Her husbande, 
being a joUie lustie olde man, on a time looking over 
the subsidy booke, founde himselfe therein five pound 
more than he was before; whereupon he presently 
went to maister Mayor of Bedford to get some abate- 
ment, who hearing of his wives fantasticke humoui', 
and knowing how he kept her in braverly beyond other 
women, would not grant him any, saying : Oh, sir 
(quoth Maister Mayor), is it not great reason that sith 
your wife exceedes al other women in bravery, that 
you likewise exceede all other men in the Queenes 


bookes ? for shee, a Gods name, must be in her satteu 
stockings ; neither wooll nor wosted will serve turne : 
whose fault is that, pray you ? To whom he replyed, 
saying : Oh, pardon me, sir, I beseech your worship ; 
I am an olde man, and not the first that have married 
with a wanton young woman, and youth coupled with 
age must needs have their owne sv/ing. I tell your 
worshippe my good dayes be past ; and now because I 
cannot please her above the knee, I must needes please 
her beneath the knee: at which merry speeches M. 
Mayor got the payment in the Queenes books for that 
time abated. Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my 
minde was pretty foolery, but yet the Foole of all 
Fooles is not heare found that I looke for. 


TuERE was of late (quoth another of the jurie) a 
certaine young man dwelling in Buckingham, who 
had long time (in the way of mariage) made sute unto 
a very rich widdow in the same towne, and to that 
purpose had spent much money ; but all in vaine ; for 
he had purchased no more favour at her handes, than 
he had when first he began his sute, "Whereupon the 
young man (not meaning as yet to give over the same) 
went another way to worke, made it knowne to a 
cosen of his, being a merry gentleman of the same 
towne, who taking the matter in hand, went to this 
widdowes house, and tolde her of his kinsman, an olde 


suter of hers, how he had now provided himselfe 
otherwise of a wife, and meant not to trouble her any 
further, and that he intended the next Sunday follow- 
ing to be askt in the church, but that he doubted she 
would forbid the banes ; Not I, by my troth, quoth the 
widdow, nor any one for me. Whereupon the old 
gentleman procured her to set her hand to a bond of 
two hundred pound, with this condition : that neither 
she, nor any one for her, by any means should then or 
at any time after, forbid, or cause it to be forbidden : 
the which being done, away goes he, and wils his 
foresayd kinsman to haste to the church, and against 
the next Sunday following, bespeake the banes betwixt 
the widdow and himselfe. When Sunday came the 
widdow gets her up betimes in the morrow, decking 
herselfe in her best apparell, and withall she hyes 
unto the church, to heare who it was that her olde 
lover should marry. But when service was done, 
(contrary to her expectation) she heard that her owne 
name was askt unto him, she was so abashed, that she 
knew not what to do ; yet durst not (for feare of for- 
feyting her bond) make any meanes to have the banes 
forbidden, but of force was content to let them alone ; 
and so at the day appoynted, she was maryed to the 
young man, who prooved a very carefuU husband, and 
long lyved they togither in great love and unitie. 
Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my minde was 
pretty foolerie, but yet the Foole of all Fooles is not 
heere found, that I looke for. 



In like manner (quoth anothei* of tlie jurie) there 
(Iwellecl a certaine rich gentleman of late in the towne 
of Northampton, who being somewhat given to the old 
religion, was very charitable to the poore, and every 
day gave many a good almes at his doore ; the which 
not a little greeved his wife, being a woman of a very 
covetous nature : but she having by good huswifery 
gathered together a pretty stocke of money, came 
unto her husband (not knowing how to bestow it of 
her selfe) and delivered it to him, being a bag of good 
old angels, and withall requested him to lay it out 
(for her use) upon some house or land, that if God 
should call him away, shee might the better maintaine 
herselfe afterward. The good old gentleman knowing 
his wives covetous nature? on this condition takes her 
bag of angels, promising with the same to buy her a 
house for ever. But so it hapned, that within few 
dales after he changed his wives double gold into single 
silver, and alwayes when he went abroad (in a merry 
humour) he gave of the same money to the poore, 
so bountifully bestowing it that in a short time he had 
never a whit left. All this while the poore woman 
thought hee was espying her out a house ; but at last 
marvelling she heard no news thereof, tooke occasion 
to moove her husband of it saying: I would gladly 
know good husband [quoth she] where the house is you 
promised to buy with my money ? Oh, good wife, 
quoth he, it is in heaven, wife : thy money hath pur- 


chased us for ever a house in heaven, a house that will 
never decay, but stand eternally : meaning that the 
money he had given to the poore, had purchased them 
a house in heaven, where all good deeds are rewarded. 
But never after that time, would his wife give him any 
more money, but kept it secret alone to her selfe. 
Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my mind was 
pretty foolery, but yet the Foole of all Fooles is not 
here found that I looke for. 


There was upon a time (quoth another of the jurie) 
a certaine merry black-smith dwelling in Oxford, who 
upon a great festival-day, was invited to dine at a 
noblemans table, who kept a house some two miles off; 
and being a merry conceited fellow, and fuU of jestes, 
he was placed amongst both honorable and worshipfull 
personages : to which table, amongst many other dain- 
ties, there was served in two gurnet fishes; the one 
being of an exceeding great bignes, was set before the 
nobleman himselfe ; the other being a very little one, 
was placed in the dish that stood just before this same 
black-smith, who being in his merry moode, and 
having a desire to taste of the bigger fish, tooke the 
little one in his hand, and laide it close to his eare, 
harkning to it as though it would have spoken : which 
Avhen the nobleman perceived, he greatly marvailed, 
and deraaunded the cause of his doing so ? Oh, my good 


lord, quotli liee, from a friend of mine lately drowned 
in the seas, I would gladly heare some newes ; con- 
cerning whom I have asked this little fish, and he 
sayth, that as yet he can tell little, by reason of his 
tender age, but he hath an olde kinsman (he sayth) 
can tell more of the matter, which now lyeth there in 
the dish before you, therefore I beseech your honour 
let me talke with him a little. Hei'ewithall the noble- 
man and his guestes were greatly delighted, and so 
reached him downe the bigger fish ; wherein the merry 
black-smith had his desire, and withall was well 
satisfied and contented. Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, 
this in my minde was pretty foolerie, but yet the 
Foole of all Fooles is not heere found that I looke for. 


Not many yeeres ago (quoth another of the jurie) 
there was dwelling in Wai'wicke a plaine country far- 
mer, but none of the wisest : who on a time rysing 
early in a morning, found his hose eaten and gnawne 
with rats ; and being therewith greatly troubled in 
minde, thinking the same to be some token of misfor- 
tune comming towards him, went unto a neighbour of 
his to crave his advice and counsell therein, and to 
know what it signified : saying that it was the strangest 
thing that ever he saw. But his honest neighbour 
noting the simplicitie of his wit, presently made him 
this answere. Surely, good neighbour (quoth he), this 



is no such strange thing as you speake of; but if your 
hose had eaten the rattes, then had it been a strange 
thing indeed. Hereupon the poore farmer, seeing 
himselfe thus flouted to his face, went his way all 
ashamed. Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my 
minde was pretty foolerie, but yet the Foole of all Fooles 
is not heei'e found, that I looke for. 


Upon a time there was (quoth another of the jury) a 
certaine petty-cannon dwelling in Coventrie, to whose 
house, upon a high feastival day, there came an expeart 
and curious musition, but very poore (as commonly 
men of the finest qualities be) and in hope of a reward 
offered to shew him the rarest musicke that ever he 
heard. Wilt thou so ? quoth the petty-cannon ; well, 
shew thy best, and the more cunningly that thou play- 
est, the greater reward thou shalt have. Hereupon the 
poore musition cheered up his spirits, and with his 
instrument plaide in a most stately manner before him 
a long season : whereunto the petty-cannon gave good 
care, and on a sodaine startes up, and gets him into 
his study, where he remained some three or foure 
houres, not regarding the poore musition that all this 
while stood playing in the hall, hoping for some reward 
or other: afterwarde when it grew towards supper 
time, downe came the petty-cannon againe, and 
walkes two or three times one after another bv the 


musition, but sayes never a word ; at which the 
musition began to marvell; and having nothing all 
this while given him for all his laboure, he boldly 
asked his reward. Why, quoth the petty-cannon, the 
reward I promised thee, I have already payde. As 
how ? quoth the musition ; as yet was nothing given 
me. Yes, quoth the petty-cannon, I have given thee 
pleasure for pleasure ; for I have as much delighted 
thee with hope, as thou hast done me with musick. 
Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my minde was 
pretty foolery, but yet the Foole of all Fooles is not 
heere found, that I looke for. 


A certaine knight there was (quoth another of the 
jury) that on a time as he rode through Lester, had an 
occasion to alight and make water, and walking after- 
ward a foote through the streetes, there came unto him 
a poore begger-man and asked of his worship one 
penny for God's sake. One penny, quoth the knight, 
that is no gyft for a man of worship to give. Why 
then, quoth the begger, give me an angell ? Nay, that 
(sayd the knight) is no almes for a begger to take. 
Thus both wayes did he shake him off, as one worthy 
of no reward for his presumption. Well, quoth Jacke 
of Dover, this is likewise pretty foolerie, but yet the 
Foole of all Fooles is not heere found, that I looke for. 



There was of late in Nottingham (quoth another of 
the jury) a certaine justice of peace, who one time 
ryding through the streete, he met with a swaggering 
companion called Cutting Tom; who in a braverie 
tooke the wall of M. Justice, and almost tumbled both 
him and his horse downe into the dirt. ^Vhereupon 
in an anger he caused the ruffian to be staide, and asked 
him what he was ? Maiy (quoth Cutting Tom) I am a 
man as you are. But, quoth the justice, whom dost 
thou serve ? Whom do I serve, quoth he, why I do serve 
God. Serve God, sayd the Justice, what dost thou 
mocke mee ? goe carry the knave to prison, He teach 
him some other answer, then to say I serve God. To 
the jaile was he born, where for that night he lay, and 
on the moiTOw brovight before him againe. Now, sirra, 
quoth the justice, are you better advised yet ? tell me 
who do you serve now ? Wliy, quoth Cutting Tom, I 
serve God still. But, sayd the justice, dost thou serve 
no body else ? Yes, quoth he, I serve my Lord Presi- 
dent of Yorke. Gods body, knave, why didst not say 
so at first? Mary, quoth he, because I had thought 
you had loved God better then my Lord President ; 
for now I see for his sake I am set at liberty, and not 
for Gods : therefore He serve God no more, but stil 
my Lord President. Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, 
this in my minde was pretty foolery, but yet the 
Foole of all Fooles is not heere found, that I looke for. 



As I heard say (quoth another of the jurie) there 
dwelled of late a certaine poore labouring man in 
Lincolne, who upon a time, after his wife had so reviled 
him with tongue mettle, as the whole streete rung 
againe for wearinesse thereof, at last he went out of 
the house, and sate him downe quietly upon a blocke 
before his owne doore ; his wife being more out of 
patience, by his quietnes and gentle sufferaunce, went 
up into the chamber, and out at the window powred 
downe a pisse-pot upon his head ; which when the 
poore man saw, in a merry raoode he spake these 
words: Now surely, quoth he, I thought at last that 
after so great a thunder, we should have some raine. 
Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my minde was 
pretty foolery, but yet the Foole of all Fooles is not 
heere to be found that I looke for. 


Of late there was dwelling in Yorke (quoth another of 
the jury) a certaine merry cloathyer, a passing good 
house-keeper, and one whose table was free for any 
man : but so it hapned on a time, amongst many other 
sitting at his table, there was a countrey gentleman 
named Maister Fuller ; with whom as then he meant 
to be merry, and therefore finding occasion, he spake 
as foloweth. Now, I pray you, Maister Fuller, quoth 


he (having as then divers sortes of wildfoule upon the 
table) which doe you thinke the better meat, of a part- 
ridge or a woodcocke ? Mary, quoth he, I do think a 
partridge. Not in my minde, quoth the cloathyer, for 
I take a woodcocke to be the better meate ; for a 
woodcocke is fuller in the wing, fuller in the legge, 
fuller in the pinion, and fuller is the woodcock in all 
places ; at which the whole company laughed hartely, 
and M. Fuller heard himselfe called woodcocke by 
craft. Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my minde 
was pretty foolery, but yet the Foole of all Fooles is 
not heere found, that I looke for. 


Upon a time (quoth another of the jury) there was a 
certaine lewde pilfring fellow that served a gentleman 
of Durham, whom he kept for no other purpose, but 
onely to make cleane the yardes, sweepe the streetes, 
fetch in water, and such other drudgeries : this fellow 
upon a time having stolne and convaide away certaine 
trifling thinges out of his masters house, as he had done 
before in divers places where he dwelt, and being now 
detected for the same, and brought before his M., his 
excuse was, that by no meanes he could do withall, for 
it was his fortune to steale, and who (quoth he) can 
withstand his hard fortune ? Why then, said his maister, 
it is also thy hard fortune to be whipt, which being likewise 
thy destiny, thou canst not prevent it. Here the ser- 


vant alleadged that fortune was the cause of his fault, 
the master likewise returneth, that fortune was the 
cause of his punishment : to be short, it was the poore 
fellowes hard fortune to be well whipt, and so turned 
out of service. Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in 
my minde was pretty foolerie, but yet the Foole 
of all Fooles is not heere found, that I looke for. 


Upon a time (quoth another of the jury), there was a 
widow woman dweling in Westchester, that had taken 
a certaine sum of mony of two cony-catchers, to keepe 
upon this condition, that she should not deliver it 
againe to the one without the other : but it so hapned 
that within a while after, one of these coney-catchers 
fayned his fellow to be dead, and came in mourning 
cloathes to the woman and demaunded the money. 
The simple woman thinking his words to be true, be- 
leeved that his fellow was dead in deed, and therepon 
delivered him the money : now within few dayes after 
commeth the other conicatcher, and of the woman like- 
wise demaundeth the same money; but understanding of 
the delivery thereof before to his fellow without his con- 
sent (as the bargaine was made), he arrested the poore 
woman to London, and brought her to great trouble : 
but being at last brought to try all before the judges of 
the court, she sodainely slipt to the barre, and in this 
manner pleaded her owne cause. My good Lordes 



(quoth she) here is a fellow troubles me without cause, 
and puts me to a needles charge : what need he seeke 
for triall, when I confesse the debt, and stand heere 
ready to deliver his money ? Why, that is all, quoth 
the conicatcher, that I demaund. I, but (quoth the 
woman) do you remember your condition ? which is, 
that I must not deliver it to the one without the other ; 
therefore, go fetch thy fellow, and thou shalt have thy 
mony. Hereupon the conicatcher was so astonished 
that he knew not what to say, for his feUow was gone, 
and he coidd not tell where to find him: by which 
meanes he was constrained to let his action fall, and by 
the law was condemned to pay her charges, and withall 
great dammages for troubling her without cause. 
Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this, in my minde, was 
pretty foolery : but yet the foole of aU fooles is not 
heare found, that I looke for. 


There was of late (quoth another of the jurie) a cer- 
taine simple feUow dwelling in Northumberland, that 
could not w^ell remember his owne name, nor teU 
rightly to the number of just twentie, yet would many 
times give such good admonitions as the wisest man in 
all the eountrey could not give better : but amongst all 
other, this one is worthy of memory, for going in an 
evening through a greene fielde, it was his chaunce to 
over heare a lusty young batehelor making sute to a 


faire milkemayd for a night's lodging, who for the same 
demaunded a brace of angelles ; whereupon, the foole 
sodainly starting backe, merrely said unto him : " Oh, 
my goode friende (quoth he), I prithee buy not repent- 
ance so dear:" signifying to the will, that after dis- 
honest pleasure, repentance followeth speedily. Well, 
quoth Jack of Dover, this in my minde was foolish 
wisdome, but yet the foole of all fooles is not heere 
found, that I looked for. 


Of late was dwelling in Westmerland (quoth another 
of the jurie) a certaine simple taylor, that by his maister 
was sent some two mile off, to a gentleman named 
Maister Taylor, to demaund a little money due unto 
his maister, for making four sutes of apparell: but 
coming to the gentleman when he had not so much in 
the house as would discharge the debt, yet meaning 
not to abase his creddit so much as to tell the fellow so, 
he found this wittie shift to drive him off for that time, 
for when the taylors man demanded the money, he 
asked the fellow what he was ? And, please your wor- 
ship (quoth he), I am by occupation a taylor. A 
taylor is a knaves name (saith the gentleman) ; heeres 
every knave as well as myselfe wil be a taylor : but I 
prithee, friend, what taylor art thou? for there be 
divers sorts of taylers : there be taylors by name, there 
be marchant tailors, there be womens taylers, there be 



snipping taylors, there be cutting taylors, there be 
botching taylors, and there be honest taylors, and there 
be thieving taylors. By this description of taylors he 
drove the poore fellow to such a quandary that he knew 
not what to say, but returned like a foole as he went, 
without either money or answere. Well, quoth Jacke 
of Dover', this in my mind was pretty foolery, but yet 
the foole of aU fooles is not here found, that I look for. 


There was of late (quoth another of the jurie) a 
ploughman and a butcher dwelling in Lancastei', who 
for a trifling matter (like two fooles) went to law, and 
spent much money therein, almost to both their un- 
doings: but at last, being both consented to be tride by 
a lawyer dwelling in the same town, each of them, in 
hope of a further favour, bestowed gyftes upon him : 
the ploughman first of all presented him a cupple of 
good fat hens, desiring Mr. Lawyer to stand his good 
friend, and to remember his suite in law ; the which he 
courteously tooke at his handes, saying : that what 
favour he could show him, he should be sure of the 
uttermost. But, now, when the butcher heard of the 
presenting of these hens by the ploughman, hee went 
and presently killed a good fatte hogge, and in like 
manner presented it to the lawyer, as a bribe to draw 
him to his side ; the which he also tooke very cour- 
teously, and promised the like to him as he did before 


to the other. But so it fell out, that shortly after the 
verdict passed on the butchers side ; which when the 
ploughman had notice of, he came unto the lawyer, and 
asked him wherefore his two hens were forgotten ? 
Mary, quoth he, because there came in a fatte hogge 
and eate them up. Now a vengeance take that hog, 
quoth the ploughman, that eate both my suit in law, 
and hens together. Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this 
in my minde was pretty foolery, but yet the foole of 
all fooles is not heere found, that I looked for. 


There was on a time, remayning in Worstershire, 
(quoth another of the jurie) a certain poet, or vercifier, 
that had dedicated a booke of poetrie to a merrie gen- 
tleman there dwelling, thereby to purchase his favour 
and reward withall : when the poet had presented the 
book unto him, the gentleman in outward show took it 
very kindly ; but without any answere at all given to 
the poore scholler, he put it up into his pocket and 
went his wayes : within a while after, the poet (to put 
him in minde thereof) gave him certaiue excellent 
verses, the which he likewise tooke, and put into his 
pocket without any answere at all ; in this manner 
did the poore scholler oftentimes put the gentleman in 
minde of his goodwill, but all in vaine, for neither had 
he a reward nor answere at all backe. But now at 
last marke what hapned : when the gentleman saw he 


could not be rid of the poet by anie means, himselfe 
with his owne handes writ certain verses in Latten, 
and when he spied him againe coming towards him, he 
sent him the verses by one of his servants : the schoUer 
courteously tooke, and read them, not only with a loude 
voyce, but with pleasing jesture and amiable counte- 
nance, praysing them with wouderfull admiration ; 
and thereupon, coming nearer to the gentleman, he put 
his hand into his pocket, and pulled out a few single 
two-pences, and offered them unto him, saying : It is 
no reward for your estate (right worshipfull), but if I 
had more, more would I give : hereupon the gentleman 
in regard of the schoUers good wit, called his purse- 
bearer, and commanded foure angells forthwith to be 
given him. Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my 
minde was pretty foolerie, but yet the foole of all 
fooles is not heere found, that I look for. 


Upon a time, there was in Winsor (quoth another 
of the jurie), a certaine simple outlandish doctor of 
phisicke, belonging to the Deane, who on a day being 
at dinner in Eton CoUedge, in a pleasant humor asked 
of Maister Deane what strange matter of worth he had 
in the colledge, that he might see, and make report of 
when he came into his own countrey ? whereupon the 
deane called for a boy out of the schole, of some six 
yeeres of age; who, being brought before him, used this 


speach : M. Doctor, quoth he, this is the onely wonder 
that I have, which you shall quickly find, if you will 
aske him any question: whereupon the D. calling 
the boy to him, said these words, — My pretty boy 
(quoth he), what is it that men so admire in thee? 
My understanding, quoth the boy. Why, sayd the 
Doctor, what dost thou understand? I understand 
rayselfe, said the boy, for I know myselfe to be a 
childe. Why, quoth the Doctor, couldest thou thinke 
that thou wert a man ? Not so easely, M. Doctor, 
answered the boy, as to thinke that a man may be a 
child. As how, sayd the Doctor ? By this, quoth 
the boy ; for I have heard, that an old man decayed in 
wit, is a kind of child, or rather a foole. With that 
the Doctor casting a frowning smile upon the boy, 
used these words : Truly, thou art a rare childe for thy 
wit, but I doubt thou wilt proove like a sommer apple ; 
sooue ripe, soone rotten : thou art so full of wit now, 
that I feare thou wilt have little when thou art old. 
Like enough, sayd the boy ; but will you give me leave 
to shew my opinion upon your wordes ? Yes, my 
good wag (sayd he.) Then M. Doctor, quoth the boy, 
I gather by your words, that you had a good wit when 
you were young. The Doctor, biting his lip, went his 
way, very much displeased at the boyes witty reasons, 
thinking himselfe ever after to be a foole. Well, quoth 
Jacke of Dover, this, in my minde, was pretty foolery, 
but yet the foole of al fooles is not here found, that I 
look for. 



Upon a time, there chaunced (quoth another of the 
jurie) to come unto a gentlemans house at Darbie, a 
certaine goldsmith of London, who, after dinner, look- 
ing well upon the gentlemans cupboard of plate, where 
amongst many other peeces very richly wrought, he 
had a chiefe likeing to two silver cups ; the one was 
made in fashion of a tigar, the other of a crab-fish : 
whereupon he desired the gentleman to lend him for a 
day or two the cup made like a tigar, to make another 
by it ; which having obtained, he cariyed it away with 
him, and kept it at his house full thi-ee months : which 
the gentleman nothing pleased with, sent to him for it ; 
which having gotten home, it fell out that within few 
dayes after, the same goldsmith sent to the gentleman 
againe, to borrow his other cup of the crab-fish ; to 
whose messenger the gentleman made this pleasant an- 
swere : I prithee, my good friend, quoth he, commende 
me to thy maister, and tell him I would be glad to doe 
him any pleasure, but seeing my tiger, which I tooke 
to be one of the swiftest beastes in the world, hath 
been three monthes in going between London and 
Darbie, truley I feare my crab is so slow, that if I 
should let him creepe out of my doores, he would be 
three yeares in coraming home againe, and tl^/erefore 
intreat him to pardon me. Well, quoth Jacke of 
Dover, this in my mind was pretty foolery ; but yet 
the foole of all fooles is not here found, that I looke 



In Shrewsburie there was of late (quoth another of the 
jurie) a substantial innkeeper, that kept a certaine 
foole in his house, of whom he demanded on a time, of 
what profession he thought most men of the towne 
to be of? who answered, that he thought they were 
phisitions. Phisitions, quoth the innkeeper ; what 
wager wilt thou lay on that ? Mary, answered the 
foole, I will lay five crownes, and that within few dayes 
I wiU approve it, or else I will pay the money. Well, 
said the innkeeper thou shalt either pay it, or be well 
payd for it, if it be not so : but if thou make it good, 
thou shalt have five crownes of mee. Content, quoth 
the foole : so upon the next morning he put a clout 
under his chin and over his mouth, and laying his hand 
under his j awes, went hanging his head, up and downe 
the towne, as if he had bin very sicke : but at last, 
comraing into a cutlers shop, a friend of his, he made a 
great shew of the paine of the toothach, asking of him 
a medicine for the same ? who presently taught him 
one, with which he thankfully departed : and with this 
device he went almost to every house of the towne, to 
learne a medicine for the toothach, setting downe in a 
booke divers medicines, with their names that gave 
them : which being done, he returned to the innkeeper, 
with his clout about his mouth, seeming to be sore 
payned with the toothach, which the innkeeper per- 
ceiving, in pittie brake into this speech : Alas, poore 
foole, never feare it, if it be but the toothach, Ee helpe 


thee presently, I pray you do, (quoth the foole) for I 
am in cruell paine : which he no sooner taught him, 
but the foole, pulling off his clout, fell into a great 
laughing, with these words : This is the best medicine 
that ever I learned, for it hath not onely made me 
whole, but hath gotten me five crownes. As how ? 
said the innkeeper. Mary, thus, quoth the fool : you 
layde a wager with mee, that most of the towne were 
not phisitions, and I have prooved that they be, for 
most part in every house I have learned medicines for 
my teeth, and they that give medicines can be no 
other then phisitions : in witnes whereof, see heere in 
my booke what is set downe. The innkeeper seeing 
himselfe thus overreacht, confessed the wager, and 
payde the foole his money. Well, quoth Jacke of 
Dover, this in my mind was pretty foolery, but yet 
the foole of all fooles is not heere found, that I looke 


Not far from Winchester, there dwelled (quoth another 
of the jury) a certaine simple justice, to whom a 
country gentleman made complaint of the ill de- 
meanors and disordered lives of many under officers in 
his libertie, requesting him that he would send for 
them, and put them in some feare : the which he 
promised to do : whereupon he sent his warrant for all 
the bayliffes, constables, headboi'roughes, and church- 
wardens, that were in his liberty, and putting them 


altogether in a great chamber, he put on a night gowne 
which was furred with blacke lambe skins, with the 
wrong side outward, and so with his hand before his 
face, as halfe blinded, ran backwards at them, crying 
" Boe bulbagger," as some use to feare children withal, 
and so, according to the gentlemans complaint, he 
feared them away. "Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this 
in my minde was pretty foolerie ; but yet the foole of 
all fooles is not heere found, that I look for. 


Upon a time, (quoth another of the jurie) a certaine 
fellow wanting money, came unto Gloster, where hap- 
ning into the company of a sort of maister colliars, he 
sodainly began this speech : My good friends (quoth 
he), if any of you will gaine by a poore man draw 
neare : I will give you that thing for a shilling a peece, 
which, if you use it well, shall be worth a crowne to 
you: whereupon the coUiai's, in hope of benefite, 
bestowed some few shillings upon him, and he to every 
one of them gave fewer yardes of fine threede, which 
of purpose he had in his pocket : but to every one that 
receaved the threed he gave this item: — Take heed, 
quoth he, when you see a foole or a knave, that you let 
him not come neare you, by the length of this threed, 
and it will be worth a crowne the observing of it : 
whereat they all laughed to see themselves made fooles 


in this manner. AVell, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in 
my mincle was pretty foolery, but yet the foole of all 
fooles is not heere found, that I look for. 


After this, travelling from Gloster, T tooke my jorney 
into Devonshire, where in the time of my continuance 
there, I had intelligence of a plaine countrey plough- 
man there dwelling, who for his simplenes almost every 
one made a foole of: but amongst the rest a certaine 
covetous gentleman, having a desire to a good milch 
cow which this poore ploughman had, would very often 
times say in his hearing, that what gyftes soever any 
man gave him with a goodwill, should before the yeeres 
end be turned double againe : this poore ploughman 
noting his wordes very often, and thinking to have two 
kine for his one before the yeeres end, which would, 
as he thought, be a great benefite to him, gave him his 
said cow : the covetous gentleman taking the same very 
gladly, meaning never to returne her backe, put her 
into his neathouse amongst his other kine. The poore 
ploughman hying himselfe home, daily expecting when 
his cow should come home double : at last unawares in 
an evening, he heard his cow low before his window, 
which by chaunce had broke out of the gentlemans 
stable, and an other fat oxe with her ; which when the 
plouglunan saw, he held up his handes blessing him- 
selfe, saying, See how the Lord workes with this good 


gentleman ; for he, pitying my estate, hath sent my cow 
double home in deed, the which I will here take at his 
hands very thankfully : so dry ving them both into his 
house, he killed the fat oxe and salted him up in powdring 
tubbes, and caryed his cow the next morning againe to 
the gentleman, saying: And please your worship, yester 
night you sent her home to my house according to 
your promise, Avhich heere I give to you againe to day, 
hoping still of your wonted curtesies. The gentleman 
not regarding his speeches, but thinking them to be 
mere foolishnesse in deede, tooke the poore mans cow 
againe, and put her into his stable amongst beastes as 
before he did: but the cowe not forgetting her old 
maisters house, came still once a weeke home with a 
fellow, and so continued until such time as the poore 
ploughman had sixe or seaven of the gentleman's best 
beeves in his powdring tubs ; but being discoverd, the 
gentleman could never by his owne wordes recover any 
thing at the poore mans handes. This in my minde 
was pretty foolerie : but yet the Foole of all Fooles is 
not heere found, that I looke for. 


Thus travelling with my privie search from Devon- 
shire, I came to Cornewall, where after I had made 
my jorney, I was told of a humorous knight dwelling 
in the same countrey, who upon a time having gathered 
together in one open market place a great assemblie of 


knightes, squires, gentlemen, and yeomen, and whilest 
they stood expecting to heare some discourse or speach 
to proceed from him : he in a foolish manner (not 
without laughter) began to use a thousand jestures, 
turning his eyes this way, then that way, seeming al- 
wayes as though he would have presently begun to 
speake ; and at last, fetching a deepe sigh, with a 
grunt like hogge, he let a beastly loude fart, and tould 
them that the occasion of this calling of them together 
was to no other ende, but that so noble a fai't might be 
honoured with so worthy a company as there was 
This in my mind was pretty foolery, but yet the Foole 
of all Fooles is not yet found, that I looke for. 


After this I tooke my jorney from Cornewall, and 
came into Hampshire, where remayning in the towne 
of Southampton, I heard of a certaine old begger- 
woman, who upon a time came a begging to a Dutch- 
mans doore there dwelling, and seeing a jacke an apes 
there on the stal mumping and moing at her, she, ac- 
cording to her wit, sayd : Oh, my pretty boy, quoth 
she, I prithee mocke me not, for I may be thy grandam 
by mine age : which words a young man of the house 
overhearing, sayd unto her. Oh, mother, you mistake ; 
for this is no child you speake unto. No, is it not ? 
quoth she : I pray what is it then ? Mary, sayd the 
fellow, it is a jack an apes. A jack an apes! quoth 


she : now, Jesus, what these Fleminges can make for 
money, thinking verily it had been a thing made by 
mens hand. This in my minde was a pretty foolerie, 
but yet the Foole of all Fooles is not heere found, that 
I looke for. 


Travelling after this from Southampton, I tooke my 
jorney into the country of Barkshire, where, not far 
from Reading, I heard tel of a certaine lewde doctor of 
phisicke, that bore such affection to a mealemans wife 
of the same countrey, that shee by no meanes could 
be rid of him, whereupon she certified her husband 
thereof: he in this manner was revenged on him. 
Thus it hapned upon a time this merry mealeman 
counterfeited himselfe to be starke mad, and caused his 
wife to send for this doctor with all speed: who no 
sooner received the message, as well to shewe his love 
to the woman he affected, as to have reward of her 
husband, came with all speed to this counterfeit patient: 
the newes of whose comming was no sooner brought to 
the meale-man, who attended his comming in his bed, 
but presently he made such a show of madnesse, as if 
he had been possessed with a thousand devils ; to whose 
presence the doctor being brought, with many chearfuU 
words he comforted the meale-man, who stared in his 
face, as if he would have torn him in peeces, yet 
ceased not his friendes about him to yeeld the doctor 
many thankes, beseeching him to regard the manner of 


his fits, and to view the water he made that morning, 
to which he willingly agreed : for which purpose there 
was prepared in an urinall the water of a mare great 
with fole, which the doctor viewed and again revewed, 
having never scene the Kke before, casting many 
doubtes of the meale-mans recoverie, standing thus in 
a quandary, as one driven to a non-plus : which by the 
mealemans friendes being perceived, they drew him 
secretly into another roome, earnestly desiring him to 
shew his opinion of the disease, whether it were dan- 
gerous or no. The doctor being loath to speake what 
he found, yet to satisfie their mindes, he thus sayd: 
Be it knowne, quoth he, that the strangenes of the 
water, sheweth a thing contrary to nature, for by it I 
see he hath within his body some lyving forme, and a 
child it is in my opinion, for which I am sorry, and 
desire you that be his good friendes, to pray for him, 
that God may take mercy on his soule. Hei'eupon the 
mealemans wife being then present, and meaning with 
the rest to follow still the jest, hearing of so strange a 
report, cryed out against her husband, fayning a 
desembling cry, and wishing herselfe never to have 
been borne, rather then to live a poynting stocke in 
the world : which speech being verie well delivered, as 
one possessed with a diveU, she in a great rage flung 
away from the company, and would not be intreated to 
returne againe. The doctor having heard so woefuU a 
cry proceed from the saint he so dearly loved, thought 
all had bin faithfully ment, which was faynedly spoken ; 
therefore going secretly alone unto her where she sate, 


and in briefe termes of wooing, promised her, if she 
would grant to become his wife, he would sodainely 
end her griefe by the death of her husband, therefore 
say amen to my sute, and I will give him such a drinke 
as soone will dispatch his life. The woman not as yet 
meaning to marre the pastime they intended, requested 
him to stay for her answere till the morrow, and to 
take a hard lodging in her house for that night, to 
which the doctor most willingly agreed, and so, after 
supper was ended, he was conducted to his bedde, 
where he was no sooner warme, but the mealeman 
playing his mad pranks, entered the chamber, breaking 
open the doore to the doctors admiration ; who in a 
fearefull maner asked what he wold have ? Villaine, 
quoth the mealemam, be still, or die upon my knife. 
The D. knowing it was but foUie to resist a mad man, 
most quietly yeelded to his will: whereupon the 
mealeman binding him hand and foote called in his 
friendes, who came in disguised, and with burtchin 
rods so belabored the doctor, as they left him no skinne 
on his body : that done, they plundged him in a tubbe 
of salt brine over head and eares, that he forgot his 
love, and almost himselfe ; so leaving him to his rest 
till morning, and then they brought with them a 
surjion, who in the presence of them all cut out his 
stones: which being done, and the wound drest, they 
caused him upon a mangie jade to be horst, and so 
sent him away to seeke his fortune. This in my 
mind was pretty foolerie, but yet the Foole of all 
Fooles is not heere found, that I look for. 




After this, I tooke my journey from Berkshire, and 
came into Essex, where searching up and downe the 
countrey, I was tolde of a certaine widow dwelling 
there that was evermore troubled with foure importu- 
nate suters : namely : a lawyer, a merchant, a souldier, 
and a courtier ; every one of them so earnest in their 
affections, that no nay would serve turne, for the widow 
they must needes have, whether she will or no : but 
she beai'ing more love to the courtier then to all the 
rest, she like a wily wench, rid them off in this manner: 
to the lawyer she first comes and secretly comfortes 
him, saying, that above all others she had chosen him 
for her husband, and none but he ; but quoth she, you 
know how I am troubled with my other suters, and 
except we be secretly convaide to chui'ch without their 
knowledge, surely we shall by them be intercepted; 
therefore to morrow morning He have you tied up in a 
meale sacke heere in my house, and by a porter (which 
I will sende) shal be borne to Chensford, where I in 
mans apparel will stay your comming, and so without 
any of their suspitions we will be maried togeather : 
which pollicie the lawyer so well lyked of, that he was 
got readie in the sacke by three a clocke the next 
morning. But now the widdow in the meane time, 
had told the merchant, that shee would be his wife, 
and none but his, and that hee the same morning 
should come like a porter, and fetch her to church tyde 
up in a meale-sacke ; the which he was very dUigeut 


to doe ; and attyred thus in a porters apparell, he was 
set to carry the lawyer in the saeke to Chensford 
instead of the widdow : who being both deceived and 
gone forward on their jorney, she sent the souldier 
after them (disguised like a singer) to belabour their 
fooles coates soundly, with this condition, that at his 
returne she would make him her husband. This hope 
caused the souldier to be as willing to performe her 
desire, as she to command his labour. But now marke 
the jest ; whilst these tliree were sent like woodcocks 
to Chensford, the courtier and she were maryed 
together at Burntwood. Which in my minde was 
pretty foolery, but yet the Foole of all Fooles is not 
heere found, that I looke for. 


At my first entrie into London, and making my privy 
search there for this aforesayd foole, I was told of a 
rich usurers sonne there dwelling, who at his fathers 
discease was left owner of a very sumptuous house, 
with great store of lands belonging thereunto : which 
humerous young man upon a time seeing one of his 
neighbors having built his house in forme of a castle, 
with ditch and rampires about it, he desired to have 
his made of the like fashion ; the which being no sooner 
finished, but he saw another of his neighbors have a 
faire set of apple trees in the forme of an orchard, he 
desired to have the like, and caused his aforesaid house 

D 2 


to be plucked downe, and planted in the place such a 
set of apple trees as the other man had ; which being 
come to a good groath, he caused them also to be root- 
ed up, saying, it were far better to have it a field of 
cabages : and in the ende his sumptuous house came to 
be a gai'den of cabages : yet not suffised with this, he 
in an other humor, bought all the geese in that country, 
supplanted his garden of cabages, and made it a faire 
greene for these creatures to graze upon ; and being 
a friend of his asked wherefore he did so ? he answered 
that from geese came feathers, wherewith to make 
boulsters and beds, and of them he had greater neede 
then of cabages, or such like thinges, that grow in 
gardens. This was pretty foolery, but yet the Foole of 
all Fooles is not heere found, that I looke for. 


AVell (quoth one of the jury), if we cannot finde the 
foole we looke for amongst these fooles before named, 
one of us will be the foole, ^or in my minde, there 
cannot be a verier foole in the world then is a poet ; 
for poets have good wits, but can not use them; great 
store of money, but can not keepeit; and many friends 
till they lose them : therefore we thinke fit to have a 
parliament of poets, and to enact such lawes and statutes, 
as may proove beneficial to the commonweath of Jacke 
of Dovers motly coated fooles. 





Printed at London, for William Barley, and are to be sold 

at his Shop in Gratious-strccto, neere 






1 . First of all, for the increase of every fool in his 
humour, we think it necessary and convenient, that all 
such as buys this book, and laughs not at it, before he 
has read it over, shall be condemned of melancholy, 
and be adjudged to walk over Moorfields, twice a week, 
in a foul shirt, and a pair of boots, but no stockings. 

2. It is also agreed upon that long-bearded men 
shall seldom prove the wisest ; and that a niggards purse 
shall scarce bequeatli his master a good dinner ; and, be- 
cause water is like to prove so weak an element in the 
world, that men and women will want tears to bewail their 
sins ; we charge and command all gardeners to sow more 
store of onions, for fear widows should want moisture to 
bewail their husbands funerals. 

3. In like manner we think it fit, that red wine 
should be drank with oysters ; and that some maidens 
shall blush more for shame than for shame-facedness. 
But men must have care, lest, conversing too much 
with red petticoats, they banish their hair from their 


heads, and by that means make the poor barbers beg- 
gars for want of work. 

4. Furthermore, it is lawful for those women that 
every morning taste a pint of muscadine with eggs, to 
chide, as well as they that di-ink smaU beer all the 
winter ; and those that clip that they should not, shall 
have a horse-night-cap for their labour. Gentlemen 
that sell land for paper, shall buy penury with repen- 
tance ; and those that have most gold, shall have least 
grace ; some that mean well, shall fare worse ; and he 
that hath no credit, shall have less commodity. 

5. It is also ordered and agreed upon, that such as 
are cholerick, shall never want woe and sorroxv ; and 
they that lack money, may fast upon Fridays, by the 
statute : and it shall be lawful for them that want shoes, " 
to wear bootes all the year ; and he that hath never a 
cloke, may, without oifence, put on his best gown at 
ISIidsummer ; witness old Prime, the keeper of Bethlem 

6. In like manner, it is agreed upon, that what day 
soever St. Pauls church hath not, in the middle aile of 
it, either a broker, masterless man, or a pennyless 
companion, the usurers of London shaU be sworn by 
oath to bestow a new steeple upon it ; and it shall be 
lawful for coney-catchers to fall together by the ears, 
about the four knaves at cards, which of them may 
claim superiority ; and whether false dice, or true, be 
of the most antiquity. 


7. Furthermore, we think it necessary and lawful 
for the husband and wife to fall at square for superio- 
rity, in such sort as the wife shall sit playing above in 
the chamber, while the husband stands painting below 
in the kitchen. Likewise, we mark all brokers to be 
knaves, by letters-patents ; and usurers for five marks 
a-piece, shall lawfully be buried in the chancel, though 
they have bequeathed their souls and bodies to the 
devil in hell. 

8. In like mannei', it is thought good, that it shall 
be lawful for muscadines, in vintners cellars, to indict 
their masters of commixion ; and Serjeants shall be 
contented to arrest any man for his fees. Ale-wives 
shall sell flesh on Fridays without licence ; and such 
as sell beer in halfpenny j^ots, shall utter bread and 
cheese for money through the whole year ; and those 
that are past honesty and shame shall smile at sin ; 
and they that care not for God, prefer money before 

9. Furthermore, it shall be lawful for footstools (by 
the help of womens hands) to fly about without wings ; 
and poor men shall be accounted knaves without 
occasions ; those that flatter least, shall speed worst ; 
and pigs (by the statute) shall dance the anticks with 
bells about their necks, to the wonder and amazement 
of all swineherds. 

10. In like manner it is convenient, that many men 
shall wear hoods, that have little learning ; and some 


surfeit so much about wit, and strive so long against 
the stream, as their necks shall fail them ; some shall 
build fair houses by bribes, gather much wealth by 
contention, and, before they be aware, heap up riches 
for another, and wretchedness for themselves. 

11. Furthermore, it shall be established for the 
benefit of increase, that some shall have a tympany in 
their bellies, which will cost them a child-bearing ; 
and, though the father bear aU the charges, it shall 
be a wise child that shall know his own father. 

12. It shall be lawful for some to have a palsy in 
their teeth, in such sort, as they shall eat more than 
ever they will be able to pay for : some such a megrim 
in their eyes, as they shall hardly know another mans 
wife from their own ; some such a stopping in their 
hearts, as they shall be utter obstinate to receive 
grace ; some such a buzzing in their ears, as they 
shall be enemies to good counsel ; some such a smeU in 
their noses, as no feast shall escape without their 
companies ; and some shall be so needy, as neither 
young heirs shall get their own, nor poor orphans their 

13. Also, it is enacted and decreed, that some shall 
be so numerous in their walks, as they cannot step 
one foot from a fool ; some so consumed in mind, as 
they shall keep never a good thouglit to bless them- 
selves ; some so disguised in purse, as they count it 


fatal to have one penny, to buy their dinners on Sun- 
days ; some so burthened in conscience, as they account 
wrongful dealing the best badge of their occupation. 

14. But, amongst other laws and statutes by us here 
established, we think it most necessary and convenient, 
that poulterers shall kiU more innocent poultry by 
custom, than their wives and maids can sell with a 
good conscience ; also it is ordered and agreed upon, 
that bakers, woodmongers, butchers, and brewers, 
shaU fall to a mighty conspiracy ; so that no man shall 
have either bread, fire, meat, or drink, without credit 
or ready money. 

15. Sycophants by the statute shall have great 
gifts, and good and godly labours shall scarce be worth 
thanks : it is also thought necessary that maidens 
about midnight shall see wonderous visions, to the 
great heart -grief of their mothers. 

16. Furthermore, it is marked and set down, that, 
if lawyers plead poor mens causes without money, 
Westminster-hall shall grow out of custom, to the great 
impoverishing of all nimmers, lifters, and cutpurses. 
Those that sing bass, shall love good drink by authority ; 
and trumpeters, that sound trebles, shall stare by 
custom. Women that wear long gowns, may lawfully 
raise dust in March ; and they that keep a temperate 
diet, shall never die on surfeits. 


17. In like manner, it shall be lawful for sailors and 
soldiers to spend at their pleasures what pay they get 
by their sword ; and if the treasurer pay them any 
thing beyond account and reckoning, if they build not 
an hospital therewith, they may bestow it in apparel by 
the statute. 

18. It is further established and agreed upon, that 
they that drink too much Spanish sack, shall, about 
July, be served with a fiery-face ; but oh ! you ale 
knights, you that devour the marrow of the malt, and 
drink whole ale-tubs into consumptions, that sing 
Queen Dido over a cup, and tell strange news over an 
ale-pot ; how unfortunate are you, you shall p-ss out 
that which you have swallowed down so sweetly ; you 
are under the law, and shall be awarded with this 
punishment, that the rot shall infect your purses, and 
eat out tlae bottoms before you be aware. 

19. It is also agreed upon and thought necessary, 
that some womens lips shall swell so big, as they shall 
long to kiss other men beside their husbands ; others 
cheeks shall be so monstrously out of frame, as they 
cannot speak in a just cause without large fees ; some 
with long tongues shall teU aU things which they hear ; 
some with no brains shall meddle much and know 
little ; and those that have no feet, may by the statute 
go on crutches. 

20. Furthermore, it is convenient and thought meet 


that ale shall exceed so far beyond its bounds, as many 
stomachs shall be drowned in liquor, and thereupon 
will follow the dropsy, to the great benefit of all physi- 
cians : it is lawful for some to take such purgative 
drugs, that, if nature help not, the worms, in the 
churches of London, shall keep their Christmas at 
Midsummer in their beUies; but tailors, by this means, 
shall have moi'e conscience ; for, where they were wont 
to steal but one quarter of a cloke, they shall have due 
commission to nick their customers in the lace, and, 
besides their old fee, take more than enough for new 
fashions sake. But now, touching these following 
articles, we are to advise old men to look with specta- 
cles, lest in finding over many wise lines, they wax 
blind with reading. 

21. But now, touching the benefit of private houses, 
by our rare and exquisite judgments, we think it very 
commodious that those married men of weakest wit, 
and worse courage, should provide themselves with 
good weapons, to defend themselves from assaults, 
which shall assail them about midnight ; and it shall be 
lawful for all wives to have a masculine courage, in 
such sort, that they who have had their wills to this 
hour, shall have the mastery all the year after ; and 
those husbands which do not valiantly resist them, 
shall be awarded to pay a sheeps head to their next 
neighbour, in penance for their folly. 

22. As by our provident judgments we have seen 


into lamentable miseries, incident in these parts of the 
world ; so, for the reformation thereof, we do ordain 
and enact, that the oil of holly shall prove a present 
remedy for a shrewd housewife, accounting Socrates 
for a flat fool, that suffered his wife to crown him with 
a p-ss-pot ; ordaining, that all those that give their 
wives their own wills, be fools by act of parliament. 

23. Also, it is further established and agreed upon, 
that Essex calves shall indict butchers knives of wilful 
murder ; and whosoever will prove a partial juryman, 
shall have a hot sheeps skin for his labour. Bow-bell 
in Cheapside, if it break not, shall be warranted by 
lettei's patents to ring well ; and, if the conduit-heads 
want no water, the tankard -bearers shall have one 
custard more to their solemn dinners, than their usual 

24. Moreover, it is thought good, that it shall be 
lawful for all tripe-wives to be exquisite physicians, 
for in one offal they shall find more simples, than ever 
Galen gathered since he was christened; besides, if 
dancers keep not tide and time in their measures, they 
shall forfeit a fat goose to their teacher, for their slender 
judgment. The French morbus, by commission, shall 
be worth three weeks diet ; and they who have but one 
shirt to shift them withal, may, by the law, strain 
courtesy to weai" a foul one upon the Sunday ; also our 
commision shall be sent forth for the increase of hemp, 
as not oidy upland-ground shall be plentifully stored 


therewith, but also it shall so prosper in the highways, 
as the stalks thereof shall touch the top of Tyburn. 

25. In like manner we think it necessary and con- 
venient, that there shall be great noise of wars in 
taverns, and wine shall make some so venturous, as 
they will destroy Tyrone and all his power at one 
draught : also we think it meet that there be craft in 
all occupations, and those that are penitent in this 
world, shall have comfort in a better ; silk-weavers, by 
the statute, shall prosper well, if they wash their hands 
clean on fasting-days, for otherwise, in soiling their 
work, they shall lose their work-masters ; daws, by 
authority, shall leave building in steeples, and dwell in 
cities ; and such as are cunning in musick, shall know 
a crotchet from a quaver: but let such men as instruct 
youth, be very circumspect ; for if they leai'n more 
than their masters can teach them, they shall forfeit 
their wits to those that bring them up. 

26. Furthermore, we think it most necessary and 
. convenient, that the generation of Judas should walk 

about the world in these our latter days, and sell his neigh- 
bour for commodity to any man ; but the usurers shall 
be otherwise disposed ; for, having monthly taken but a 
penny in the shilling, ever since they first began their 
occupation, they shall now, with a good conscience, 
venture upon three-pence with the advantage ; besides, 
many men shall prove themselves apparently knavish, 
and yet, in their own opinions, will not be so; and many 


women shall imagine that there are none fairer than 

27. Moreover, for the further increase of foolish 
humours, we do establish and set down, that fantastick 
devices shall prove most excellent ; and some shall so 
long devise for other men, that they will become barren 
themselves ; some shall devise novelties to their own 
shames, and some snares to entrap themselves with. 

28. In like manner we think it most necessary, that 
those who be fortune-tellers, shall shut a knave in a 
circle ; and, looking about for a devil, shall find him 
locked in their own bosoms : atheists, by the law, shall 
be as odious as they are careless ; and those that depend 
on destiny, and not on God, may chance look through 
a narrow lattice at Footmans Inn. But my dear 
friends, the grocers, are plentifully blessed, for their 
figs and raisins may allure fair lasses by authority ; 
yea, many men, by the statute, shall be so kind-hearted, 
that a kiss and an apple shall serve to make them 

29. It is further agreed upon and established, that 
many strange events shall happen in those houses 
where the maid is predominant with her master, and 
wants a mistress to look narrowly unto her. 

30. Also, we think it convenient, that some shall 
take tlieii' neighbours bed for their own ; some the 


servant for their roaster ; and, if candles could tell tales, 
some will take a familiar for a flea. Also, we think it 
meet, that there should be many fowlers, who, instead 
of larks, will catch lobcocks ; and many, for want of 
wit, shall sell their freehold for tobacco-pipes and red 
petticoats. Likewise, we think it convenient, that 
there should be many takers ; some would be taken for 
wise men, who, indeed, are very fools ; for some will 
take cracked angels of your debtors, and a quart of 
Malmsy, when they cannot get a pottle, 

3 1 . But, stay aAvhile ; whither are we carried, leaving 
the greatest laws unpublished, and establishing the less ? 
Therefore we enact and ordain, as a necessary statute, 
that there shall great contentions fall between soldiers 
and archers ; and, if the fray be not decided over a pot 
of ale and a black pudding, great bloodshed is like to 
ensue ; for some shall maintain, that a Turk can be hit 
at twelve-score pricks in Finsbury Fields ; ergo, the 
bow and shafts won Bullen ; others shall say that a 
pot-gun is a dangerous weapon against a mud-wall, 
and an enemy to the painters work ; amongst these 
controversies we will send forth our commission to god 
Cupid, being an archer, who shall decide the doubt, 
and prove that archery is heavenly, for in meditation 
thereof he hath lost his eyes. 

32. O gentle fellow-soldiers ! then leave your 
controversies, if you love a woman ; for I will prove 
it, that a mince-pie is better than a musket ; and he 



that dare gainsay me, let liim meet me at the Dagger 
in Cheap, with a case of pewter-spoons, and I will 
answer it ; aiul if 1 juove not tliat a mince-i)ie is the 
better weapon, let me dine twice a week at Uuke 
Humphrys table. 

33. It is furthermore established,* that the four 
knaves at the cards shall suddenly leap from out the 
bunch, and des])erately prank about the new playhouse 
to seek out their old master, Captain Crop-ear ; also 
it is thought meet, that some men, in these days, shall 
be politick beyond reason, and write more in one lien, 
than they can prove in an age. 

34. Furthermore, it shall be lawful for some to 
study which way they may walk to get them a stomach 
to their meat, whilst others are as careful to get meat 
to put in their bellies : likewise there shall be a great 
persecution in the commonwealth of kitchen-fees, so 
that some desperate woman shall boil, try, and see the 
poor tallow to the general commodity of all tlie whole 
company of tallow-chandlers. 

3.5. Alas ! alas ! how are we troubled to think on 
these dangerous times ; for taih^rs, by act of parliament, 
may lawfully invent new fashions ; and he that takes 
Irish aquaxntcc by the pint, may by the law stumble 
without offence, and break his face ; and it shall be 
thought convenient, that some be so desperately bent, 
as they shall go into my Lord Mayors buttery, when 

or TiiKi:Ki)-n\Ri: roi-yrs. 51 

all the barrels be full, without either sword or dagger 
about them ; many men .shall be so venturously given, 
as they shall go into Pettycoat-lanc, and yet come out 
again as honestly as they went first in. 

36. In like manner, it shall be hiwful lor Thames 
water to cleanse as much as ever it did in times past ; 
and, if the brewers at London buy store of good malt, 
poor bargemen at Queenhithe shall have a wdiole cpiart 
for a penny ; St. Thomas's onions shall be sold by the 
rope at Billin.sgate by the statute, and sempsters in the 
Exchange shall become so conscionable, that a man 
without offence, may buy a Ailling band for twelve 

.37. It shall be hiwful for sinitiis to love good ale ; 
and, if it be possible, to have a of three weeks long 
in July, men shall not be afraid of a good fire at ]\Iid- 
summer. Porters baskets shall have authority to hold 
more than they can honestly carry away ; and such a 
drought .shall come among cans at Bartholomew fair in 
Smithfuld, that they .shall never continue long fdle<l. 

38. Tin; images in the Temple church, if they 
again, shall have a conmiission to dig down Charing- 
cross with their fauchions ; and millers, by custom, 
shall have small mind to moiMiing prayers, if the wind 
serve them in any corner on Sunday. Those that go 
to wars, and can get nothing, may come liome poor by 
authority ; and that ])lay fast and lo<»sc with 


woniens tipion-.striiigs, may chance to make a journey 
for a Winchester pigeon ; for prevention thereof drink 
every raoi-ning a draught of noli me tangere, and by 
that means thou shalt be sure to escape the physicians 

39. Furthermore, it shall be lawful for bakers to 
thrive by two things ; that is, scores well paid, and 
millers that are honest. 

40. Physicians, by other mens harms, and church- 
yards by often burials. 

41. Also, we think it necessary for the common- 
wealth, that the salmon shall be better sold in Fish- 
street, than the beer shall be at Billingsgate. 

42. And hearts-ease, among the company of herb- 
wives, shall be worth as much money as they can get for 
it by the statute. 

43. It is further enacted and agreed upon, that 
those that run four-score miles a-foot, on a winters 
day, shall have a sore thirst about seven of the clock in 
the evening. 

44. And such as are inclined to the dropsy, may be 
lawfully cured, if the physicians know how. 

4o. Also, we ordain and appoint, that, if there be no 


great store of" tempests, two half-penny loaves shall be 
sold lor a penny in Whitechapel. 

46. Chaucers books, by act of parliament, shall in 
tliese days prove more witty than ever they were 
Ijcifore ; for there shall so many sudden or rather 
sodden, wits step abroad, that a flea shall not frisk 
forth, unless they comment on her. 

47. O what a detestable trouble shall be among 
women about four-score and ten years old ; for such 
as have more teeth about them than they can well 
use, shall die for age, if they live not by miracle. 

48. Moreover, we think it necessary, that those that 
have two eyes in their head, shall sometimes stumble ; 
and they that can neither write nor read, may as 
boldly forsware themselves as they that can. 

49. And it shall be lawful for almanack -makers, to 
tell more lies than true tales. 

50. And they that go to sea without victuals, may 
suffer penury by the statute. 

51. In like manner, it shall be lawful i'or any man 
to carry about him more ;:ul(l than iron, if he can get it. 

52. But they that are given to suUen complexions, 
if they be females, must be more circumspect ; for, if 


they repent their hidden sins too mucli, they may by 
chance catch Heaven for tlioir hiboiir. 

53. Therefore, let maidens take heed how they fall 
on their backs, lest they catch a forty weeks favour. 

54. And he that hath once married a shrew, and by 
good chance buried her ; beware how he come into the 
stocks again. 

55. Further, it shall be lawful for those that be rich 
to have many friends ; and they that be poor, may, by 
authority, keep money, if they can get it honestly. 

56. Also, we command and charge all such as have 
no conscience, to do their worst, lest they die in the 
devils debt : as for the rest, they that have more 
money than they need, may help their poor neighbours, 
if they will. 

57. In like manner, it sliall be lawful for such as 
are subject to hot rheums, to drink cold drink : and 
those that have a mind to enrich physicians, to be 
never without diseases. 

58. Also, soldiers tliat have no means to thrive by 
plain dealing, may, by the statute, swallow down an ounce 
of syrup of subtlety every morning ; and, if they cannot 
thrive that way, we think it necessary that, four 
times in the year, they go a-fishing on Salisbury plain. 


59. Furthermore, lor the l»enelit and inercase ot" 
Ibolish liuniours, we think it necessary that those our 
dear friends, who are sworn true servitors to womans 
pautables, shouhl have this order set down, that you 
suit yourselves handsomely against goose feast ; and if 
you meet not a fair lass betwixt St. Pauls and Strat- 
ford tliat day, we will bestow a new suit of satin upon 
you, so you will bear all the charges. 

60. But as for your dear friends and scholars, thus 
much we favour you, you shall dine upon wit by autho- 
rity ; and, if you pay your hostess well, it is no matter 
though you score it up till it come to a good round 

61. In like manner, it shall be lawful for maids 
milk to be good physiek for kibed heels ; and a cup 
of sack to bed-ward a present remedy for the rheum. 

62. Such as are sick in the spring, may take physiek 
by the statute ; and those that are cold, may wear 
more clothes without ottence, 

63. It is best to ride in long journeys, lest a man 
be weary with going a-foot ; and more comely to go in 
broken stockings tluin bare-li^gLM'd. 

64. Further, it shall be lawl'id for some to be lean, 
because they cannot be fat. 

65 Some, liy statute, shall love lu-cf i)as>iiig well. 


because they can come by no other meat ; and other 
some simper it with an egf^ at dinnei-, that dare man- 
fully set upon a shouMcr of \ eal in the alternoon. 

66 Some shall be sad, when they want money; and 
in love with widows, rather for their wealth than their 

67. It is also thought necessary, that some shall 
suspect their wives at home, because they themselves 
play false abroad. 

68. And some love bowling-alleys better than a 

69. But, above all other things, spirits with aprons 
shall much disturb your sleep about midnight. 

70. Furthermore, it shall be lawful for liiiii that mar- 
ries without money, to find four bare legs in bis bed ; and 
he that is too prodigal in spending, shall die a beggar, 
by the statute. 

71. In like manner we think it necessary that ho 
that is plagued with a cursed wife, have his pate l)roken 
quarterly, as he pays his rent. 

72. Likewise, he who delights in subtlety, may 
play the knave by custom ; and, he who hath his com- 
plexion and coui'age spent, may eat mutton on lasting- 
days by tlie law. 


73. And to coiK-lmk', sincf tlie'iv arc ten precepts to 
be observed in the art of scoMinjr, we humbly take tjur 
leave of Duke Iliinipiireys onliiiary, antl betake us to 
the chapel of ill counsell ; where a quart or two of tine 
Trinidado shall arm us against the <z:un-shot of tongue- 
metal, and keep us sjife from the assaults of Sir John 
Find-fault. Vale, my dear friends, till my next return. 









in;pRiNTF,D Ff)i{ riiK im:!{cv s()('lKl^ 

\l |i< < r.\| III 




THOMAS AMYOT, Esq. F.H.S., Tkuas. S A. 


J. A. CAHUSAC, Esq. F.S.A. 

WILLIAM CHAPPELL, Esq. F.S.A., Tnamrer. 







T. J. PETTIGREW, Esq. F.R S., F.S A. 

E. F. RI.M15AULr, Esq. F.S.A. Scrnlary. 





H E Kerry pastoral now pre- 
sented to the Members of 
the Percy Society, is re- 
printed from a copy, 12 
pages 4to. believed to be 
uiii<|U(.', in the possession of 
■?^ the Editor, to whom it was 
given by Sir William Botham, in 182.0. 

Dr. Smith in his history of Kerry, p. 418, thus 
refers to this composition. " Some of the inhabit- 
ants have produced tolerable specimens of poetry, 
not only in their native language, but also in 
English ; for besides some occasional verses 
already hinted at, p. 108,* not many years ago a 
humorous eclogue called ' a Kerry Pastoral,"* was 
addressed by a poet of this country to the fellows 
of T. C. D. which had no inconsiderable share of 
merit.'" IJut slight glances at the history of the 
county in which this poem was circulated — at tlu- 

* Tlif passage n-furrnl lo is copied ;il p. ;n. 


period, just wlicn the Hanoverian succession was 
established, and at the circumstances under which 
it was written, are necessary to place its object 
and merits fairly before the English reader. In 
addition to which, the Editor has been induced to 
support the allusions to local peculiarities by 
extensive extracts from various works, which 
prove how very accurate a picture is given of Irish 
manners at the time. 

The most extensive grant of lands in the county 
of Kerry, under the Act of Settlement, according 
to Smith, was " made to the Provost and Fellows 
of Trinity College, Dublin, who, by letters patent 
of K. Charles II, dated November 10th, IGGfi, 
had a very large estate settled on th^ said Uni- 
versity for ever, with courts Icet and courts 
baron at Noghavel and Cari^-foil, to;jether with 
fairs, markets, &c., and the king was pleased to 
reduce the crown rents of the said estate in this 
county, to the sum of .TlOO per annum.'"' Look- 
ing at the time when this grant was made, it 
appears to have been a patriotic and judicious 
proceeding, for its object was the encouragement 
of literature and science. " The kingdom of 
Kerry," as the southern part of the county is still 
facetiously termed, was, witli a small part of the 
county of Cork, a palatinate jurisdiction under 
the Earls of Desmond ; and when Pjlizabeth 

waged the warfare of extermination against Ge- 
raUline dominion, the advantages of Jverry as a 
military position for guerilla movements, became 
generally known, and, in conseciucnce, its moun- 
tain were, at various subsequent periods, 
the retreat of those who defietl English power, 

" Wlien all l)iit liopc was lost.' 

The settlers, who luul been introduced under 
the grants made by Charles II, were seriously 
disturbed during the reign of James II ; their 
bawnes were attacked, — their cattle carried off, 
— their granaries plundered, and their imj)rovc- 
ments destroyed, by swarms of wild mountaineers, 
whom they were unable to repress. 

These mountaineers received and welcomed 
among them men who, having been deprived of 
their inheritance by legal forfeiture, supplied the 
places of their natural leaders, and, true to their 
policy, protracted an irritating conflict for feudal 
supremacy ; every act of plunder, and even nuir- 
der itself, was considered by them as a justifiable 
deed of retribution. 

The state of the county of Kerry at this period 
may be gleaned from " An exact relation of the 
persecutions, robberies, and losses, sustained by 
the I'rotestants of Killniarc [I\(nniar<'| in Ire- 


laii'l,""" ill which thr loUowin^ cases arc referred 
to as having particularly interested the writer R. 
(). fRiciiard Orpen], the agent for "the Lady 
Petty, her son Lord Shclborne, and James 
Waller, Esq." 

" Daniel Mac Tiege Carthy, one of those that 
murdered Eilward Gilks, a smelter, for endeavour- 
ing to defentl himself from being robbed at noon 
day of forty shillings, which they knew he had 
about him, in the year 1680. 

"Owen Sulwan (a loose gentleman), for coming 
unawares behind 11. 0. in a dark night, and run- 
ning him through the body with a sword, for offer- 
ing to recover a debt due to him from Sulwan's 
friend, in the year 1680. 

" Teague a Glanna and others, that murdered 
the Pursivant for daring to come into that part 
of the country, to arrest a papist, at the suit of 
Sir William Petty, or of any Protestant whatever, 
in the year 1685. 

" Daniel Mac Dermot, and half a score others, 
for robbing a parcel of French Protestants that, 
having escaped out of France, were, by stress of 
weather, forced into the river of Killmare, in the 
year 1()8I>. 

* Ito. pp. 30. Iy)n(l(»n : printed fnr Thct. Bcnnct, at the 
Half MiMdi in St. Paul's C'huich ^ aid ; and are t«i be sold i>y 
Randal Taylor, near Statinners' Hall. l(tS!>. 

" Daniel Crouly, and scvoii iiioro torics, that, 
in tlie year 1G.S7, attt iiii)te(l to nuirdcr and rob 
Iv. 0. and his brotlior, but without success, their 
captain having received a shot in the head, and 
two more of the chief of them in the shoulder and 
thigh ; being made prisoners, they lived till they 
were hanged at the assizes following." 

In 1G88, we are told that " The officers of the 
new raised levies, being persons of broken and 
desperate fortunes, not able to maintain them- 
selves, or their soldiers, were foreed to fijeh and 
steal black cattle and sheep, all over the kingdom 
for their subsistence ; and more especially in the 
county of Kerry, where the natives were more 
indigent, the thieves appeared publicly in great 
numbers, thirty, forty, and oftentimes seventy in 
company, well armed with pikes, swords, guns, 
pistols, (fee, marching openly through the glins 
and mountains, with droves of six or seven score 
cows and bullocks at a time, in such terror to 
the Protestants, that when they saw their cattle 
hurried away before their faces by the rogues, 
they durst not pursue nor en<iuire for them." 

The consequence was, that Mr. Or[)en and the 
little party of English settlers whom he had been 
the means of or<rauizinir for self-defence into an 
armed association, fled into England in the spring 
of 1(189. 

The mountaineers, wliosc fathers liad been 
dispossessed by Cromweirs grantees, and those 
who had suffered under the Act of Settlement, 
sprung with savage joy and ferocity upon lands 
which they had compelled the English settlers 
to abandon, and they endeavoured to hold by 
force these re -captured possessions for years 
after the Articles of Limerick (1691) were sup- 
|)osed to have adjusted the political settlement 
of property in Ireland. Formidable armed 
parties, termed Tories and Rapparees (the latter 
an Irish name for robber), paraded through the 
country, and in the mountain fastnesses of Kerry 
especially, defied the military sent against them. 
On the 20th of March, 1693, Captain Waller 
wrote from Kinsale to Sir Robert Southwell : " I 
am just now going towards Kerry with a party of 
soldiers, towards suppressing the Rapparees, who 
are grown very numerous in these parts.""* 

The following extract, prefixed by Miss Brooke 
to her oxfjuisite translation of the lament of 
" Ned of the Hill," — the soubriquet of Captain 
Edmond Ilyan, — upon the loss of his mistress, will 
illustrate the deplorable situation in which both 
those who attempted peaceably to farm lands in 

* Southwell MSS. Sold at Messrs. Christie's 1)v Auction, 
Feh. IH31, hy order of the lOxccutors of Lor<l Dc Cliirord. 
Thorpe's CjitaHr„c IV. 18:31. No. ;lfil, p. 19S. 

tho vicinity of the moiintaiii districts of Cork, 
Limerick, Clare, and Kerry, were placed at the 
commencement of the last century, as well as that 
of their op])onents. 

Of ]lyan, observes Miss IJrooko, " many 
stories are still circulated, but no connected ac- 
count has been obtained, further than that he 
commanded a company of those unhappy free- 
booters, called Rapparees, who, after the defeat 
of the Boyne, were obliged to abandon their 
dwellings and possessions, ' hoping (says Mr. 
O'llalloran) for safety within the precincts of the 
Irish (juarter : but they were too numerous to be 
employed in the army, and their miseries often 
obliged them to prey alike upon friend and foe ; 
at length some of the most daring of them formed 
themselves into independent companies, whose 
subsistence chiefly arose from depredations com- 
mitted on the enemy. It was not choice, but 
necessity that drove them to this extreme ; I 
have heard ancient people, who were witnesses to 
the calamities of these days, aflirm, that they 
remembered vast numbers of these poor Ulster 
Irish, men, women, and children, to have no other 
beds but the ridges of potatoe-gardens, and little 
other covering than the canopy of heaven : they 
dispersed themselves over the counties of Linir- 
rick, Clare, and Ken-v ; ami the hardness of the 


times at length slmt mi all bowels of huinanity, 
so that most of them perished of the sword, cold, 
or famine.' "* 

Under the state of things de.sei'ibed, this Kerry 
pastoral was c<)mi)Osed and circulated. The 
College lands had yielded little or no produce 
to the University, and the object of this ingeni- 
ous pamphlet, in which reference is made to a 
variety of local customs and superstitions, was to 
procure respectable bona fide tenants, who would 
improve the College estates, instead of " middle 
men," or farmers, whose object was to underlet 
the ground at what is called a rack rent. The 
idea was certainly a benevolent one, of endea- 
vouring to lead men to think correctly as to what 
would be to their advantage, as well as for the 
advantage of those whom they considered as 
opposed to them ; and it is to be regretted that 
the College authorities have failed in the object 
inculcated in the following verses. This, how- 
ever, appears to be the case from the account 
given by the llcv. Caesar Otway in his Sketches 
in the South of Ireland (1827). "To return to 
Lord Lansdownc's estate on one side of the 
river and that of Trinity College on the other, I 
observed, as I drove slowly along, that his Lord- 
ship's lands were much better cultivated ; the 

* O'llall.uanV Inl. to ihc Hist, and Ant. of Ireland,!). 382. 

faniis better stocked; tin; eiibins fewer; inoro 
grass land ; what houses appeared were dI' a 
better description than on the Colleijiate lands, 
and, on alighting to walk up a hill, I entered into 
chat with a poor sickly looking fellow who was 
going towards No<leon (Kenniare). There is no 
countryman in Ireland so easy, or, I woulil say, 
so polished, in his address and manners as a 
Kerry man. I was really surprised as I passed 
through the country, to receive answers and 
procure directions, fraught with civility and in- 
telligence, superior much to what I have met 
elsewhere. ' Are you, my good friend, a tenant 
of Lord Lansdowne's f ' Ah, no, sir, and more 
is my loss ! No, sir, if it were my luck to be 
under the great Marquis, I would not be the 
poor naked sinking crathur that I am. His 
Lonlship allows his tenants to live and thrive ; 
he permits no middlemen to set and re-set over 
and over again his estate ; he allows no Jack of a 
Squireen to be riding in top-boots over the 
countr}', drinking and carousing on the profits of 
the ground, while the poor racked tenant is 
forced, with all his labour, often to go barefooted, 
and often to live and work on a meal of dry 
potatoes. No, sir, look across the river there — 
look yomler at that snug farmer's house — there 
the man's forefathers live<|. and thei'i' lu' himself 


and his seed after will liv(3 and do well , paying a 
moderate rent, and there^s no fear at all of their 
being disturbed.' 

" ' Well ! but, my friend, on your .side of the 
river is it not the same ' To be sure, I see not 
60 uuich conifo)-t ; I see many, very many poor 

" ' Oh I sir, how could it be othersvise ? There 
are twenty landlords between the College and the 
man who tills the grounds. The land is let, re- 
let, and sub-let, it is halved and quartered, 
divided and subdivided, until the whole place 
will become a place of poverty and potato gardens. 
I have four acres of land. How can I live and 
rear my children, and pay thirty shillings an aero 
off that ? And I am subject to have my pig, or 
the bed from under me, canted by one, two, 
three, four — och ! I do not know how many land- 
lords. And now I am going to Nedeen, to get 
some physic from the poticary ; for the dry po- 
tatoes, master, agree but poorly with my stomach 
in the spring of the year. Och ! then, it's I that 
wishes that the great College that does bo making 
men so lamed and so wise, would send down 
some of these larned people here, just to be after 
making their own poor tenants a little happier 
and a little asier." 


Thu Eilitor cannot conclude without cxprossin;^ 
hi.s thanks to Mr. How ol" Fleet street, tliu Pub- 
lisher of Mr, and Mr.s. 8. 0. HalFs Ireland, for 
the enibelli.slnnents which have been introduced 
to illustrate the notes. 

T. c. a. 

llnsauiDUirs /liitnr, FiiI/kiih, 
•27lli April, IMJ.J. 

F A S T O R A L 



OF '1 HE 

FirTt Kcloiriie 



Infcrlli'd to till' 

Provnfl, Felfnus, ."inil .Sckoldis, of Iriiiit i/ Colhge, 

Bij Murroi^Jinli ( 'oni/orof jlti<yhfni(t^r(tiiii. 

D U n L 1 X : 

Printed hy J(tmes Carfon, in CoghilFs ('dint, in Damrs- 
ftreet, ojiposite fc tlio Caf/fr-Afarkcf, 1719. 

k- . / 

iijil' "lijii'v i.jiV.'iijii' -lijipf [ij;;- •;;,;;■ "jfji, ■■,"i|ir''i;iii'"{;jri' -K 


In Imitit'u)!! ol' till' 1' Irit 

Eclogue of VIRGIL, &c. 

MiirKxjIiiili OCintiitr and Out ii SnUinni. 

Murrojrhoh Me Ti<ruc. INIc. Mahooii Lca^rli, 3Io 
Murro;.'Iioh O'Connor, of Aufrluxna^rraun in the liit- 
rony of Irafrhty Connor, und Coiinfi/ of Kerry, was 
omoncf other Collf;;(' Tenants tiiriud out of his Farm 
of Bullylinc, but being rccommendeil to the Collvfre bif 
several Gentlemen of that Countrif is Restored in this 
F.CI.OGLK ; therefore he oirns his Obligations to the 
College, and the Ilappinefs of his Condition. 

Owen Sullivan of Rinrarah, near the Island of 
Valentia, in the Ilaroni/ of Ivralia;:li {another College 
Under- Tenant) meeting uith some Misfortunes and not 
having rrpre/ented his Case to the College, Ino/rs his 
Farm, whieh is given to a Captain of that Country. 


T\/ry Old Acquaintance, and my dearest Friend, 
My Murroghoh I what Joys on you attend ! 
Ten thousand iJles-sing? seem at onee to shine 
Upon your Farm and House of liallyline, 

H 2 

Since you're Itcstord tu Xative Land aiul Ease, 
The "World's your own, and Use it as you please 
Now tell the Glories of your noble Name, 
How Prince O'Connor fVoiii Hispanid earne. 
Sprung Iroin Milesian Jiac(\ of great Renown, 
By right of Conquest made this Isle his own, 
Landing at S/iannons INIouth, the nohle Flood 
Enrich'd lerne with his Royal Blood; 
For from his Loins, as from her flowing Springs, 
Our Irish Veins are fill'd with Blood of Kings. 
But I alass, can no such Ilcmours boast, 
vSince sweet Rhincarah — dear Ivrah is lost: 
My Blood runs low, I'm poor and in Disgrace, 
And dare not own I'm of Milesian Race. 
You top the World, as great a Monarch are. 
As Connor Sligo, Connor Fahj were, 
And at your Ease beneath Arbutus laid. 
Leaning against the mossy Tree your Head, 
AVitli Harp, and Voice, the College Praises sing, 
Till Woods and Rocks, the College Praises ring. 


'Tis true to sing her Praises is my Choice, 
She shall for ever have my Harp and Voice ; 
To her I owe the Happiness you see, 
'Twas she restor'd my Farm and JAhertg. 

For wliicli lull Miif/ars to lici- lltaltli we'll drink 
Aucl to the bottom Str<indid lloysluds sink, 
Good Stranded Claret, Wreck'd upon oiir Shore; 
And when that's out we'll go in search for more. 
Whole Nights we'll spend, to break of Day sit np, 
Then Deogh a Dorus for the j)arting Cup. 

My dearest MurriKjIt, I am glad to lind, 
So much Content and Pleasure in your Miml : 
But I poor Owen, Grieve lament and moan, 
You see I'm Packing np, and must be gone. 
My bended Shoulders with my Burthen bow, 
And I ean luinlly (hive this limping Cow. 
Not long ago, whieh gave me Cause to Fret, 
A Sea Hoy at the * Scallogs broke my Net. 
The Sea did not up to Rhincarah How, 
'\Mang(r(o/i\s top was Black, and W'anted Snow. 
With mournful song lamented, the %Bantee. 
Foretold the Ruin of my House and me. 
When all these Omens met at once, I knew 
What sad Misfortunes must of Ct)urse ensue. 
Rut tell me Murrogli, what the College is. 
There's nothing more 1 long to know than This. 

* A Kocky Island near Uimurali. 

* The liifjlii'st Muiiiitniii in Ki-rry, near Itinrurali, \\ liicli all llic 
Year round ia reinurkuble tt) Imve Snow on ii. 

§ A spirit wliifli, ucconlinp; lo Irish Sii/irr.itiliiin, iijUH-ars and 
bewails an) Si;rnal Calainity. citlur «itli H«'s|)»'i't to Life or 
Fortunr of anv .Vncicnt rennirkaliic Families. 


Oict n I was so foolisli once I own, 

To think it like Little School in Town, 

Or like the School that's in Tralee, you Know 

Where we to Sizes and to Sessions goe, 

And wlien Arrested, stand each otliers Bail, 

And spend a Cow or two in Jmio and Ale. 

I might compare '•^^iJno/ico/i to ^'^ K/iocha//ore, 

riiCiirragh of Ballijline to '^^Lifin/tiore 

W'hh ninoh more Reason — lint my Dearest Friend. 

The College does onr Schools so far transcend, 

Or uU the Schools that ever yet 1 saw. 

As t*' Karni/s Cabbin is below ("^ Lixna. 


Hut what good Fortune led you to that Place? 


To tell my Si/ffri/u/s, and P^xplaine my Case, 
To be restor'd, to Hnd a just Redress 
From those tvho glory to relieve Distress. 
Tis true I lost my Lond-Lordn Favour by't 

'.I) A rising nrar Murroyh's Farm. 

(2) A very high Mountain upon the College Estate. 

(3) A small Shrub on Murrogh's Farm. 

(4) The great CnUexir Wood. 

(A) A Cotter in Murmrfh's Farm. 
C Lord Kerry's House. 

But then, Diar Otnn, 1 n-LMinM my Kiglil ; 

All my Ii'r/icical Fines \vitli liim were vain, 

Nor Prai/'rs nor Money couM my Farm obtain ; 

AVhat Cou'd I do, but to the College run, 

And well I did, or I shou'd be undone. 

There did I see a venerable Board, 

Provost and Fellows, Men that kept their Word, 

Sincere and Just, Honest, and Fair, and True, 

Their only Rule is to yivc all their Due. 

No Bribes or Interest can Corrupt tiuir INIinds, 

Cnbiassd Laws the Rich and l\)or Man finds ; 

Alike to all, their Charity Extends, 

Ev'u I a Stranger found them all my Friends ; 

Such were the Saints that once possess'd this Isle, 

And drew down Blessings on our happy Soil. 

They soon (for Justice here knows no Delay) 

Gave this short Answer. Mitrrogh go your way, 

Returii, improve your Farm, us heretofore, 

Be gone, you shall not be Molested more. 

Happy Milesian, happiest of Men ! 

Then Ballyline is now your own Again. 

'Tis Large enough, tho' not* a wiiolc I'low-hind. 

And has a h)V('ly I'rospect to the Strand. 

' A Kcirij Dtuoniiiiation "f Land. 


Tliu' Bo(js and Hacks ikfcjiiu that Sput of Kaitli, 
Consider Murrotjh that it gave thee Birth, 
Those Boys and Rocks your Cows and Sheep surround, 
Keep them from Trespass Pledge, and Starvijig Pound. 
Thrice happy you, who living at your Ease, 
Have nought to do but see your Cattle Graze, 
Speak *Latin to tlie Stranger passing by. 
And on a Shatuhnxj Bank reclining lye; 
Or on tii(; Grassij Sod Cut Points to play 
Backgamon ; and Delude the fLivelong Day. 
When Night comes on to pleasing Rest you go, 
Lull'd by the soft \Cr07man, or Sweet (") Speck s/ioio 
When Kircherd Skeelak strains her warbling throat, 
In tuneful Hum, an<l Sleeps upon the Note. 


Dingle and (^> Derri/ sooner shall unite, 
Shanon and Cashnn both be draiuM out riglit, 
And Kerry i\Ien forsake their ^'^^ Cards and Dice, 
Dogs be pursu'd by /fares, and Cats by Mice, 
IVater begin to burn, and Fire to wet, 
Before I si 1 all my College Friends forget. 

• 'Tis natural for the Cow Boys in the County of Kerry to 
speak Latin. 

t They are such (iiimsters in tho County of Kerry, that they 
Cut Poinds in the Soda, by way of Td/ilfif, and [use ?] Potato's and 
Tiirnipn for men. 

\ IIuniniinK fif a Time. 

(a) An Irish ftfound. 

(b) The Two remotest Parts of Ireland. 

(c) So fond of Canls, that ihey never go without them. 

Bill I must <[iiit my Dear Ivnujli and n>iiiii 

The World about, to liiid another Home ; 

To Paris* <ijo with Satclwl cramM with IJooks, 

With empty Pockets and with hungry Looks ; 

Or else to Dublin to Tim ^Sullivan 

To be a Drawer or a waiting Man ; 

Or else perliaps some favourable Chance 

By Box and Dice my Fortune may advance, 

At the Groom Porters cou'd I find a Friend, 

That wou'd poor Owen kindly recommend. 

There I cou'd nicely serve, and teach young ^Ii:ij 

The Art to Cog, and win their Coin again. 

But shall this Forreign Captain force from nie. 

My House and Land, my IVcirs, and FLs/teri/ / 

Was it for him I those Improvements made I 

Must his Long Sword turn out my LaVriiig Si^nidv f 

Adieu my Dear abode' — 

1 shall no more with Brogue ^Boaii Scrihiogli climb 

Steep (^^MuUoghbert, enthron'd on top sublime, 

* 'Tis a Kerry sliift, to go to Piiri.i, w licii Hcdiic'il. 

f A Kerry Man wlio k('C'|>.s llle London 'I\irrni, virv Uiiiil and 
Generous to liis Country Men. 

§ A liroym: with a Srolloji'it Jfiil, which noni' but Cicntk'UHii 
arc allow'd lo wear. 

(a) The Hill of Hrftrenrr, wlierc the Head of (lie C/un sitting 
every Sundav au<l IIi>Iy-l)ay on two stones dcsiiU's all Contro- 


Head of my Clan, determine ev'ry Case, 

To make my Vassals Live at home in Peace, 

To teach them Justice a much cheaper Way, 

Keep them from Lawyers Fees, and Court's Delay, 

Nor shall [I] see you Curagh* Can a Wee, 

Full often have I made a song fur thee, 

Least some Disaster should attend my Life, 

My tender Children, or my Loving Wife. 

Nor the ^Kuochdrum wliere our Forefathers set, 

Upon thy Lofty Top th' Insidious Net, 

To catch Desmonian wild, a sight more rare 

To British Eyes, than Scandinavian Bear. 

Valentia too I bid farewell to tliee. 

Title to best of IMen great Anglesey. 

Desmond tho' last, not least belov'd farewel, 

By wliose great Lord whole Troops of Brittains fell. 

Thy Glories shall in distant Lands be known, 

And all the World superior Desmond own. 


But stay Dear Owen cosher here this Niglit, 
Behold the Rooks have now begun their Flight, 

* Then; is an old Tradition amonf,'st thorn, that if Travellers 
do not make a Rhime in praise of this Mountain, some Misfor- 
tune will befall them or some one belonging to them. 

t A Hill in that Country. 


And to thfir Xesfs in AVinged Troops rei»air, 
They i\y in hast, and show that Night is neai\ 
'J'hc Sliccp and Lambkiits all around us bleat, 
The Suiis']\i&i down, to Travel is too late. 
Slacaan and Scollops shall adorn my board, 
Fit Entertainment for a Kerrij Lord, 
In Egg Shells then we'll take our j)arting Cup, 
Lye down on Ruslies, with the Sun get up. 


E M A R K 8 


P. 3, — The Argument.] Whether the names of the 
speakers and the localities mentioned are all strictly correct or 
imaginary, the Editor cannot state, hut if imaf^inary, the 
semhlance of truth has l)cen most carefully preserved. 

Murroghoh O'Connor, the accepted tenant of the Provost 
and Fellows is said to he of Aughanagraun, or the ground 
which can grow corn or grain. 

" On the first arrival of the English into these parts," says 
Smith, in his History of Kerry, p. 27, " they lound the 
O'Connors possessed of the northern tract of this county, from 
which family that part still retains tlienamc of Iragliticonnor," 
— this literally means the ploughed ground hclonging to the 
house of Connor. The name of Murroghoh, a common one 
in all the clans upon the South West Coast of Ireland, such 
as the O'Sullivans, O'Briens, Sec. is the Irish for a sailor or 
mariner,— see Muireach in O'Brien's Irish Dictionary. 

Owen Sullivan, the other speaker, is said to he of Rincarah, 

14 NOTIvS. 

that is, of till- idcky proinontory, a locality laid down in Sniitli's 
map of Kerry as " Kiiieaharagli," on tlie main land, oj)j)ositc 
to C'romwcU's Fort on ^'alentia Island. " The Southern parts, 
[on the first arrival of the English in Kerry,] were occupied," 
says Smith, " by the O'Suliivan's, the harony of Dunkcrron 
being then called O'Suliivan's country, of which he had tlie 
title of Prince given him by tlie Irish. They bad als(t large 
possessions in Iveragh." The latter name, like most Itteal 
names, is highly descriptive; meaning tlie territory of ex- 
ample or warning, from the numerous shipwrecks that have 
occurred on this rocky coast." 

P. 4, 1. 4, — '■\friim Hispania cnmc.'^ Sec Moore's History 
of Ireland, Vol. i. p. 77. 

P. 1, 1. lO,—'' BlnoJ of Kin</s."] See Concublmr in 
O'Brien's Irish Dictionary. 

P. 4, 1. Hi, — " Connor Sli'/n, Conn/tr Folt/."] The two 
principal families of the name were thus distinguished. The 
opposition given by O'Connor Kerry to English power in 
Ireland, in the reign of Elizabeth, is recorded in tiie Pmula 

P.4, 1. 17, — '■'■ bi-ncalh Arbutus laid,''^ i. c. "Arbutus Uncdo." 
" The Arbutus," says Derrick, in a letter addressed to Lord 
Southwell from Killarney, dated (Hh October, 17<)0," flourishes 
all the year, bearing, at one and the same time, leaves, blossoms, 
berries, and iruit in different stages of maturity. The leaves 
are of a very beautiful green, with a red stalk; the blossom 
resembles the lily of the valley ; the berries arc first green, 
then yellow, acquiring at length a colour like the finest scarlet 
strawberry : it is called by gardeners the strawberry tree." 
Although the Arbutus is well known in the gardens of England 
as a shrub, Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall state, that "in Dinis 
Island there is one, the stem of which is seven feet in circum- 



toronce, and its luij^lit is in i)ri)portion, hcin^ ci|nal tn llial 
of an ash tree of tlie sjinic prtli which stands near it ; and on 
Koni^h Island, opjuisitt- O'Sullivan's cascade, there is another, 
tlie circumference of which is nine feet and a half Ah»ne, 
its character is not [(Jiiere, not ?] jiicluresiiue ; tlie branches 
are bare, long, piiarled, and crooked, presentinfif in its wild stjite 
a remarkahle contrast to its trim, formal, and bush-like li},Mire 
in our cultivated gardens. 

"It is said that, although now found universally in Ireland, 
and more especially in the counties of Cork and Kerry, it (the 
Arbutus) is not a native of the soil, hut was introduced into 
the country by Spanish monks." A note liowever in Hall's 
/r«»/«n//, Vol. i. p. 1 HI, states, that upon this point botanists 
are divided in opinion •, and the opinions of two of the most 
cminotl in In laml an' tbi-rc lhm ii. 



1'. 4, lines li), 22, — //«//» diul riJiv<:'\ Upon tliis fanions 
instrument, the Irish harp, at the period when these lines 
were written, almost every one played; the term "every one" 
is to be understood in the same sense as applied to the Piano- 
forte at present. Few specimens of the Irish harp remain. 
The Editor believes the only one in England to be in his pos- 
session. It was made for the Rev. Charles Bunworth in 1734, 
by John Kelly, who also appears to have been the maker of a 
harp in 172(>, enji^raved in Walker's " Memoirs of the Irish 
bards;" but Mr. Bunworth's harp is probably more accurately 
delineated, as copied from a sketch by Mr. MacClise. 

NOTES. 17 

P. 5, 1. ],—"full Mathera to lur health wrll drink"] The 
Mather, a compound of two Irish words, Maide (wood), and 
er (noble), was applied to an ancient drinking vessel, gene- 
rally made of the wood of the oral) tree. The annexed sketch 
was made by the Editor from a Mather in his possession, 
presented to him by the late Mr. Samuel McSkimin, of Car- 


Generally speaking the Mather was round at bottom, 
and quadrangular at top, with a handle on each of its four 
sides. It varied from 7} to i:\ inches in height, and from 
lO.V to 18 inches in circumference, and held from three pints 
to upwards of two quarts. Figures of the two Irish Mathers 
from which this description is collected, are given in the 
Dublin Penny Journal, vol. i. No. 38, p. 300; and vol. ii. No. 
84,p.249. On the latter the name and date of DehmotTi;i.i,v, 
1.590, are engraved. 

To drink out of the Mather, it was necessary to apply one 
of the four corners, and not the side, to the mouth. The fol 
lowing anecdote is told respecting this national mode of drink- 
ing: "When Lord Townshend left the vice-royalty of Ireland, 
he had two massive silver mathers made in London, where they 
were regularly introduced at his dinnerparties; and guests most 
usually applied the side of the vessel to the mouth, and seldom 


18 NOTES. 

escaped witli a dry ncik-dotli, vest, urdtnililit. Lord Towiis- 
lieiid, liosvever, after eiijoyiii}^; the inistiike, usually ealled on 
his frieud the late Colonel O'Reilly (afterwards Sir llu},d» 
Nugcut by the King's si{;;n manual), to teaeh the drill, and 
handle the Mather in true Irish style.'' 

In Ueau Swift's translation of O'Rourk's feast, we find 

" Usquebaugh to our feast 
In piiils was brought up. 
An hundred at least, 

And a inadtUr* our cup." 

Laurence Whyte, from whose poem of " The Partinj^ Cup" 
an extensive extract is made in a subsequent note, thus closes 
Canto II : 

" Tho harper at each interval 
Had dram or maddtr at his call. 
Together with his horn of snuff. 
Of each we saw he took enough. 
And when he could no longer play, 
i^peak.tlioi/ech ushered in tlie day." 

In ihf Irish Iludibras, 1(589, a fleet of small boats or 
eorracles, are said to be — 

" Like Meddar.s formed of the whole piece ; 
Meddar, which is a pretty black, 
A deep, round, foursquare wooden Jack ; 
An ill-shaped trunk of carved tree. 
An uniform deformity." 

P. 5, 1. 2,—" Stranded Hof/shvds." 1. 3,—" Stranded 
Claret."} " The ' Lady Nelson port' is still famous in Kerry, 
and a glass of it is sometimes offered as a bonne bouche.^^ — 
Ladi/ C/tntterton's Rambles in the Smith of Ireland. Vol. i, ]). 

* Wooden vessel. 

NOTKS. 19 

Mr. W'fld in his Account of Killarncy, iiu'iilions visiting 
Lou|):h Iiie, wlicre he was regaled with some delicious oysters; 
a hoy appeared carryiufj; a haskct after a gentleman, hy wliose 
boat the oysters liad lurn taken; and "copious lilialions were 
poured from Ijottles wliich had evidently heen filled in France, 
and the wine proved to he nolhin;^ less tlian Bur;,nindy of a 
most delicious flavour.'' 

In a note which Mr. Weld thoupfht it necessary to atUich in 
a second edition to this passaq;e, in conse<inence of some ob- 
servations, made by tlic Rev. Horace Townscnd, calculatcil to 
throw discredit upon this statement, he asks with nnuh 
ndii't'li : " Are there no shipwrecks on tliis rocky and dan- 
gerous coast ?" 

P. 5, 1. (), — " J'hcn Deoifh a Doras fur the parting cap .''] 
Doch-an-diirrach (a Gaelic term), is explained in the glossary 
to the Waverly Novels, as " stirrup-cup ; parting cup." It 
is literally, " the drink at the door," respecting the legal im- 
munities attached to which, see Sir Walter Scott's note to the 
Chapter XI of Waverly. 

Laurence Whyte, " a Lover of the Muses and .Matliema- 
ticks'' as be styles himself on tlie title page of " Original 
Poemson various Subjects'' [ind Ed. Dublin, 1712], has enti- 
tled one of his productions "The Parting Cup; or, the Hu- 
mours of Deoch an Doruis, alias Theodorus, alias Doctor 
Dorus, an old Irish gentleman famous (about 30 years ago), 
for his great hosjiitiility, but more particularly in Christmas- 
time — ' 

" When folk.s Imvc little dsi- to do 
But try wlmt ale thuir neighbours brew, 
To drink nil iiiglit, and sing in cliurus 
And when they piirt drink Ucochadorut. 

lUit it so liappiiis that W'hyle's poem, besides illustrating 

V 2 

20 NOTRS. 

the common use of the plirase, has preserved a faiUirul picturo 
of the stite of Irish society at the jtcriod to whiili the Kerry 
Pastoral bclong^s : — 

" Lest any shuulil iiii.stiikt^ the time, 
By this our prchiilo put in rhiine, 
We shall explain it if you please, 
It was in Christmas holiilays. 
About the thirtit-tli of December, 
As near as I can well remember ; 
Tlie moon was just a quarter old, 
The wind at north, the weather cold : 
In Anna's long victorious reign, 
Who triumphed over France and Spain. 
When Marlborough's fame tliro' Kurope ran, 
^V^lo fought the buttles of Queen Ann ; 
Tlien did the name of Deochadoriis 
Become so numerous and glorious. 
As well Strongbonians as Milesians 
Kept open house on all occasions, 
Tliat scarce a parish or a town 
Tliroughout the kingdom but had one. 
Then Cromwell's tril)cs of later date, 
Laid by their civil jars and heat, 
Became more generous and free, 
Drank Deuchadorus neighbourly. 
And tho" they could not mouth him well, 
They into all his humours fell ; 
For all who breathe the Irish air 
Must in its happy influence share ; 
It gives them such a turn of mind 
.\s makes them candid, free, and kind." 

This lively sketch however is followed hy a melancholy 

" We can't forget young A r's frakes, 

His drinking bouts with jolly rakes — 
How ninny he has killed with drinking. 
How many more sent home a blinking!' 

NOTES. 2 1 

III stciiliii}( lioinowiiTils, uroupd tln-ir wiiv 
At initliiiKlit, ur ut break uf day : 
How moiiy he hu» »eiit humo rLH.'liiig 
Blind drunk, uithout the sense of fueling ? 
'Twos Ikochadonu night anil day, 
Until ho drunk himsulT uway." 

Alul White honestly conchules with — 

" Such is the practice of our i-sle, 
^^'here sciireo one trihe of Dcochadorus 
IJut stnnd ill iiiisiTy before us." 

Mr. and ^Irs. S. C. Hall, who, in their recent work on 
Ireland, have recorded the change which has taken jdace in 
the popuhir habits of the Irish people, state that;— "If a 
guest were aide to mount his horse without assisUmee in 
the ' good old times,' he was presented with a dcoch an dur- 
rass glass, which he was forced, seldom 
against his will, to ' drink at the door.' 
This glass usually held a quart; it was 
terminated by a globe, which of itself con- 
tained a ' drop,' suiricicnt to complete the 
business of the night." [vol. i. p. ."l.'i.] 

And the print by which the deoch an 
darras glass is illustrated in their work was 
from a sketch which the Editor made in 
1H"29 of one in tlic possession of two old 
ladies named Baylee, who resided in the 
Desmonian stronghold of Lough Gur, in 
the County of Limerick. 

"The door cup" however was not always of glass; in the 
Irish Hudibras, we find Nees (the hero) 

" Swearing he could not |>nrt, not for lii<< 
Own letf, till he got llough a l)nrri$. 

22 NOTKS. 

Willi tJiiit till' jiortiT liroiiKlit iliciii out 
A iiieddur stopt with u cli'iin clout ; 
Wliicli, tlio' 'twas rt'ckont'd but a small one, 
Coiitaiiii'd throe hulls ol' a whole gallon." 

P. 6, 1. 14, — "^ Sea Hog at the Scallogs broke my net."^ 
For "Sea Hog," llie reading should he Sea Dofj, and for 
" Scallogs," Skcli(/s. Sniilh in his History of Kerry, mentions 
that Sahuon in the Kenmare river are " much destroyed hy 
seals and sea dogs, which are so numerous there, that in summer 
all the rocks on the shore are in a manner covered with them." 
And Doctor Smith adds, " some j)coplc have proposed a method 
of taking them in strong nets, made of thick cordage on purpose, 
which scheme has not been tried because of its expense." 
The rocks called the Skeligs, are about nine miles from the 
mouth of tlic Kcnniare river. Upon the larger one a light- 
house was built, in 182(i. Lady Chatterton has preserved, in 
her "Rambles in the South of Ireland," Vol. i. chapter 13, 
an account of the Skeligs, by ^Ir. Maurice O'ConneU, and 
also of a visit made by the Editor to the greater Skelig, 
•2r)th April, 1825. 

P. 5, 1. ]5,—''Tfie Sea dhJ not up to Rhiucarah f,nr?''] 
'J'his means the Atlantic had receded from the South Western 
shore of Ireland. 

P. .^, 1. 1(), — " 3Ia>i(/erlo)i\'< lop ini.< black and minted siion\'^ 
Mangerton " was for many years considered the highest 
[mountain] in Ireland, and set down in the old maps and 
surveys as being 2,470 feet in height." " It is now ascertained 
by the measurement of Mr. Nimnio, that the height of 
Mangerton is 2,5;j0 feet, while that of Carran Tiial, [not far 
disUint] is 3,410. — WrhjhCs Guide to Killarneij. 

P. 5, 1. 17,—" The Bantee:''\ Sir Waller Scott in his 



letters on Deraonology ami Witchcraft, speaking "of some 
leading superstitions, ouce perhaps common to all the countries 
of Europe, but now restricted to those which continue to be 
inhabited by an undisturbed and native race; of these," 
continues Sir Walter Scott, " one of the most beautiful is the 
Irish fiction, which assigns to cerUiin families of ancient 
descent and distinguished rank the privilege of a Banshee, as 
she is called, or household fairy, whose oflice is to appear 
seemingly mourning while she announces the approaching 
death of some one of the destined race." 

The following verses descriptive of Banshee superstition, arc 
translated by the Editor from a Caoine (Kent), upon the death 
of a Knight of Kerry, who was killed in Flanders about tiie 
year 1(542. 

•' I hail hoard lamentations 

And sad warning cries 
From the Banshcos of many 

Broad districts arise ; 
I besought thee, O Christ, 

To protect me from pain ; 
1 prayed, but my prayers 

Tliey were offered in vain. 

" Aina from her closely 

Hid nest did awake 
The woman of wailing 

At Gur's voicy lake ; 
From Glen Fogra of words 

Came a mournful whine, 
And nil Kerry's hags 

Wept the lost Geraldine. 

" Tlie Banshees of Youglmll 

.\nd of stately Mogeely 
Were joined in their grief 

By wide Imuiokilly. 
f'arah Mona in gk»>m 

Of deep sorrow appear.'^. 

24 NOTES. 

And nil Kiiiuluivaky '» 
Absiirbi'il into U'lipt.* 

" Tlif jirosjiprous Siixoiis 

WiTf M-izfJ with tiifriglit, 
III Trali'c they jmckod up 

And iiiiulf reiitly for fliglit. 
For tLerc ii slirill voice 

At the door of each hull 
\\'us heard, and they fancied 

Foretelling their fall. 

"At Dingle, the niercliants 

In terror forsook 
Tlieir ships and their biisinciis, 

Tliey trembled and shook. 
St)me fled to concealment — 

The fools thus to fly ! 
For no trader a Hanshce 

Will utter a cry.+ 

" The Banshee of Dunqueen 

In sweet song did deplore 
To the spirit that watches 

On dark Dun-an-oir ; 
And Knniniore's maid 

Uy the Feal's gloomy wave 
Did mourn, with clear voice. 

The death of the brave. 

'■ On stonny Slieve Mis 

Spreads the cry far and wide , 
From Slieve Finnalaun 

The wild eaglo replied ; 
Moiig the reeks, like the 

Thunder-peal's echoing rout, 
It l)urst, and deep bellows 

Bright Brandon gives out." 

* Literally, " Kinalmeaky is drained from crying." Kinahneaky is a 
district of bog in the county of Cork. 

+ This is the verse quoted by Dr. O'Brien in his Irish Dictionary, to 
»hew that the Banshee is solely an aristocratic appendage. 

NOTlvS. 25 

1'. ti, 11. n, 1,— " I'lalir i/ou linoir, \\ here irr In Si:istin(l tn 
Sessions y««'."] " Tralee is the shire-town of the county oC 
Kerry, evcrsince the atUiinder of Gerald Eiirl of Desmond; and 
wasduring the existeneeof thai earl's palatinatethe plaee where 
he chiefly resided ami cxereised his jurisdiction." — Snrard's 
llihrrniati Gazcltnr. 

P. 0, 1. 5, — " And when Arretted stand each others /?«?/."] 
" A Kerry witness" is a proverhial expression for a person 
who will swear any thing in a court of justice. 

P. G, 1. 8, '' Curragh of Balli/linc.^'] C'urrai/h which is 
explained in the foot note as " a small shrub," is prol)ahly a 
misprint for " a small hog." The glossary to the Irish Hudi- 
hras renders Cnrmyh "heath;" but Cnrrach is explained in 
O'Brien's Irish Dictionary, as " a bog, or fen." — Moin^ he 
adds, " is drier ground than what they call fj/jracA." And 
hence the Editor may observe comes Moineen, a little springy 
piece of turf to dance upon. The Air of Moore's "Minstrel 
Boy," though published as " The Mnrccn" ought to ha\e 
been Moneen. But any word the meaning of which is not 
understood gets sadly mangled — 

" At couthert [gossipiugj wakes ; could play Mai/cai [Margery] 
Whip off Dunboyn, and dance a Mvneen." — 

The Irish Hudihras, 1089, p. 27. 

P. <>, 1. 12, — " /./.r;/rt.''] Lixnaw, an ancient seat of the 
Earls of Kerry, is described by Smilii, in 1771, about which 
time it was suffered to fall into ruin, as " standing agreeably 
on the river Brick, which is here cut into several pleasant 
canals that adorn its plantations and gardens. The in)i)rove- 
mcnts are very extensive, most of the vistaes and avenues 
terminating by different buildings, seats, and farm-houses. 
The tide flows up to tlie gardens, whereby boats of considera- 

26 NOTES. 

Me bunieii ni;iy l)nn<^ up jjoods to tlic bridpe near the house ; 
here are two stone hridiifes over tlie Hriek, tlie oldest of which 
was huilt hy Nieliolas, the third baron ol" Lixnaw, wlio was 
the first person that made causeways to this phice, llie huul 
being naturally wet and marshy. 

" The present house," continues Smith, " coHsists of a large 
building with wini,fs on each side, and several offices that 
inclose an handsome area : in one of these wings is a chapel 
the walls of which are painted in fresco by a foreigner called 
John Souillard, being copies of the celebrated cartoons of 
Raphael, at Hampton Court, particularly the lame man healed 
by Peter and John, Elymas the sorcerer, Paul preaching at 
Athens, Sec. The figures are as large as life ; and over the 
door, between festoons and other decorations, are the heads of 
Homer, Virgil, Milton, and Pope, all in claro obscuro by the 
same hand." 

P. 7, 1. 7,—" Provost mid Fcllnirs."'] Doctor Baldwin was 
Provost of Trinity College, Dul)lin, from 1717 to the time of 
his death, 30th September, 1758. Doctor Claudius Gilbert 
was Vice-Provost from 1716 to 17.'}j>, and the donor of 13,000 
volumes to the College Library. Among the Fellows of Tri- 
nity College, at the time that this Kerry Pastoral was written 
(1719), were, — the philosophic Berkeley, advanced to the 
deaneiy of Derry 1721, Bishopric of Cloyne 1733, Delany, 
afterwards Dean of Down ; Bindon, afterwards Dean of Lime- 
rick ; Madden, afterwards Dean of Kilmore ; Synge, after- 
wards Bishop of Clonfert 1730, Ferns 1733, and Elphin 
1740 ; Clayton, afterwards Bishop of Killala 1729, Cork 
and Ross 1733, Cloghcr 1715; and Stopford, afterwards 
Bishop of Cloyne. 

" Mtii tliiil kept tlieir wonl. 

Sincere, and just, honest, and fair, tuid true." 

NOTES. 27 

p. 7, 1. 22, — " Tis l(irt/f cnoiti/h thinujh nut a uholc Plaw- 
laniiy] 111 Kerry " the land is held not by the aerc ; for in 
these inountaiiis, such minute divisions are of little iinportiince ; 
hut, aeeordiug to the lanj^uaj^^e of the couiitrv, /»// tlic liunp ; 
that is, by larji;e tracts ; and, al'ter agreement has been made 
with the landlord for their respective shares, it is usual for 
many diflerent families to form a partnership and make a 
joint concern of their several farms. Where pasturage alone 
is followed, great benefit accrues to the little community from 
this practice. It saves labour and expense of multiplied 
superintendence ; it excites attention to the general interest, 
and prevents disputes that would otherwise arise concerning 
boundaries, where the benefit to be derived from their existence 
is not ade(iuate to the cost of their erection. Each man to 
the computed extent of his land is permitted to maintain a 
certain number of cattle ; and in many instances, where the 
parties have confidence in each other, tlicy have a joint stock, 
both of their kine and their produce" — Weld's Killdrnci/. 

P. 7, 1. 23,— "rt loicli/ prospect to the Strand:'] The 
" Stranded Hogsheads" and " Stranded claret" mentioned in 
p. o, lines 2 and M, explain the loveliness of the prospect. 

P. S, 1. 7, — " Spciik Latin to I he stramjer passhnj iy.''] 
Sir Richard Cox, writing about tiie time the Kerry 
Pastoral appeared, .says, " very few of the Irii^h aim at any 
more than a little Latin, which crcrij cow-hoy pretends to, and 
a smattering of logic, which very few of them know the 

" It is a.sserte(l, that Latin has l)eeii very generally studied 
in Kerry, even by the lowest ranks of the people; and I have 
lieard more tiian one gentleman hear testimony to the circum- 
stance of the bare-fouled buys having been found reading 
classical authors in the fields. It is related of one of thc^c 

28 NOTES. 

poor fellows, tli;il upon an expostulation having been made 
with him on such an unprofitable use of his time, he replied, 
with much spirit : — 

" Est iiuodain prodirc tonus, si non dutiir ultra." 

" Classical reading," says Dr. Smith, in his History ot 
Kerry, " extends itself even to a fault amongst the lower and 
poorer kinds of this country ; many of whom, to the Udiing 
them off more useful work, have greater knowledge in this 
way than some of the better sort of other places." Similar 
testimony is borne by other writers : " In alighting to take a 
view of the ancient family seat at PalHce, I gave the bridle of 
my horse to a poor boy, who seemed to look for it with eager- 
ness. From his manner of answering some questions I asked 
him, I was led to enquire into his situation ; and was not a 
little surprised to find that though sunk in the most abject 
poverty, he was nevertheless a good classical scholar. He 
was well acquainted with the best Latin poets ; had read over 
most of the historians ; and was then busy with the Orations 
of Cicero. I found upon further enquiry, that this classical 
spirit is very general among the lower sort of people in 
Kerry." — Dcscriptiim of KiUdrnnj. Amini/motts. 

Mr. Weld is of opinion that these accounts arc " either 
very much exaggerated, or the taste for classical learning is 
less prevalent than formerly"— lor during his visits to Kerry, 
between the years 1 800 and 1811, he " was unable to procure 
an interview with one of these learned peasants." He how- 
ever says : " A gentleman of my aciiuaintancc indeed, who 
was with me at Killarncy, once happened to be present when 
a poor boy came into the inn yard, and asked for alms in good 
Latin ; and he observed that several of the town's-folk who 
were bystanders, rejdied to him in that language, and for 
some minutes continued the conversation in that language 
with apparent facility." 

NOTES. 29 

P. 8, 1. 8, — " A S/in7iilm)(/ Ifnuh".] It is scarcely necessary 
to observe, tliat the Shamrock is the National emblem of 
Ireland. Keogh, Thrclkeld, and other Irish botmisls, assert 
that the Scatnrr txjr or Shamroc^, is tlie trifuliiiin rq)ens ; 
this however has been disputed. 

" Other countries" says the late Caesar Otway, in the Dublin 
Penny Journal, " may boast of their trefoil as well as we ; but 
nowhere on the l)road cartli, on continent, or in isle, is there 
such an abundance of this succulent material for making fat 
mutton. In winter as well as in summer, it is found to spread 
its green carpet over our limestone hills, drawing its verdure 
from the mists that sweep from the Atlantic. The seed of it is 
everywhere. Cast lime or limestone gravel on the top of u 
mountain, or on the centre of a bog, and up starts the 

P. 8, 11. J), 10.—" Oil the ijrassij sod, cut points to pl<n/ 
Backffamvion ; ] " In some pails [of Kerry] they have a 
singular and primitive mode of playing at backgammon in 
the fields. The turf is cut out, so as to make a board of large 
size ; flat stones are used for men ; and to perform the busi- 
ness of dice, a person sits with his back to the players and 
calls out whatever cast he ; upon this principle tiie 
play is conducted." — Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall's Irtlaud., 
vol. I. p. 2;')r>. 

P. 8, 1, 12,—" LuWd 1)1/ the soft Cronnan."^ Cronaan is 
explained in the glossary to the Irish iiudibras as a song.— 

' ' lliit sing dysclf the sweet Cro-naan." 

At an Irish wake. 

" sonic laugh, sonic weep ; 

Some sing Cronans, ami some ih> sli-cp." 

arc the passages upon which lliis explanation is oflcred. The 

30 NOTES. 

true meaning of the word is a iiioiidtonous mtlody, conesponil- 
in<; with what we shouhl now call recitative. 

" Ckonan, the hase in nius>ic. Crdni'in la ■h'lun/iuinis, 

" CuoNAN, any dull note, also the hiizzini^ of a (\\ or other 
insect." — O'Biini . 

In " a dissertation on Italian and Irish Music," l)y I«iurencc 
Whyte, [17-1'2], speaking of the manner in which the former 
has superseded the latter, he says that Irish Music 

ilics to Miiiistpr for the air, 

To clear her pipes ami warble there. 
Poor Cronaan, being tiim'tl out of play, 
With Rinke Mucenauh flew away, 
To the remotest parta of Kerrj-, 
In hopes to make the vulgar merry, 
But scarce one cabin in their (light 
Would give them lodging for the night ; 
So taken up with foreign jingle, 
Tralee despised them ; likewise Dingle.' 

P. M, 1. \'2, — " Sirrct S]>cck .^Aojf."] This melody is com- 
monly known as " the humours of Joyce's country," and its 
musical notation is preserved in Walker's memoirs of the Irish 
bards. " Several districts of this kingdom," says \S'alkcr, 
" have certain appellations for airs which originated in them, 
as Sjx'ic Scnach, the Spcic or humours of Joyce's country," 
which he adds was " pricked from the voice by the Rev. Dr. 
Young, while on a visit last winter, 1785, in the county 
of Huscommon." Speire according to O'Brien is a prop or 
support, and Snuvh is the Irish mode of writing Joyce; the 
littnil nuiining therefore is "the leader of the Joyces," a 
gigantic race inlialiiting the wild district of Connamara, in 
the county of (J al way, respecting whom and which, see "A 
Tour round Ireland, hy John Barrow, Esq. in 1835." 

In a lellor addressed to Mr. Walker, 178K, giving an 

NOTF>^. 31 

account of the inhabititnts of Uic Rosses, islands on the coast 
of Donegal, the writer says — " Their sonjifs, called Sjiric 
Si(iav/ut, were recitJils of exploits achieved hy the friants and 
warriors and hunters of old." That is to say, the deeds of 
Joyces. Speice is jirohaMy from the Latin spes. 

P. 8, 1. 13,—" Kircherd Shcclah."] The Irish Kercher or 
Cailleach as it was sometimes called, from heing worn Ity old 
women, was a large handkerchief tied under the chin ; the 
other ends at the hack of the head, falling loosely upon the 
shoulders. Mr. Beaufort has stated to Mr. Walker, (" Histor- 
ical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modem Irish,'") that 
the simple head dress of the Cailleach " was worn hy hoth sexes, 
liut usually by men, and made of the skin of a beast." The 
Editor perfectly recollects it as the common costume of the 
female peasantry of the South of Ireland. 

P. 8, 1. 16,—" Shanan and ('«.\7i«»."] The Shannon River, 
" all circumstances considered, is one of the finest in the 
British dominions; not only on accouut of its rolling 200 
miles, but also of its great depth in most places, and the 
gentleness of its cuttcuV— Seirard\'< Ilibcniian Gazttlnr. 

Spenser in his " Fairy Queen," Book iv. Canto 1 1th, calls 

" Tlie spucious Slu'iian, >i)n'ailing like u sea. " 

The Cashin, which is formed by the confluence of three 
rivers, the Galey, Feal, and Briek, falls into the Shannon not 
far from its mouth. 

P. H, 1. 17, — " A)id h'rrri/ turn fitrmhr tlnir riir<ls nud 
(/jcf."] Among the evil persons whom Sjuusir, in his view 
of the State of Ireland, reeoniniends gelling rid of in that 
country by " the short riddance of a .Mar.shal,"— are a class 

o2 NOTES. 

calletl '' Canows;" " wliitli," lie tolls us, " is a kind of people 
that wander up and down to f^cnllcnicn's houses, living,' only 
upon cards and dice ; the which, though they have little or 
nothinjf of their own, yet will they play for much money; 
which if they win, they waste most lightly ; and if they lose 
they pay as slenderly, but make rccompence with one stealth 
or another ; whose only hurt is, not that they themselves are 
idle lossels, but that through gaming they draw others to like 
Icudness and idleness." 

P. 9, 1.3, — " T(i P<nis (JO nith mtchid cravCd with ioo^s."] 
The Sorbonne was crowded with Irish " wranglers," who, for 
a gratuity undertook to defend certain tlieological or metaphy- 
sical theses against all impugnants. Boileau t;ilks ol' the 
'■'■ figures hibemoises^' of these Irish disputants; and in "Gil 
Bias," they arc commemorated as a striking feature at Sala- 
manca. Goldsmith, in raml)ling through Italy, often g(jt a 
dinner and a viaticum by defending propositions in the halls 
of the convents and universities : (see Prior), and from Duns 
Scotus, and Columbanus, to the most recent period, Ireland 
was the great mother of polemical spirits in the Continental 
schools of Divinity. Pelagius was a Welshman; his Greek 
name being only a translation of INIorgan. 

P. 9, 1. IH, — " BiDijuc liiian Scrihiotjh.''^'\ This Irish name, 
literally means the shoe of true writing that is scalloj)cd or 
indented like a legal document or " Indenture," which in 
Irish is called ban-scribbin. Liiurcnce Whyte in " A Disser- 
tation on Fashions," [1742] says : 

" The shoes reform'd and fashion'd so, 
The heel is lower than the toe, 
And if I may believe my sire 
The brogue-bungcreeb was something higher, 
Tlie harness buclle of tlie shoe 
In days of j'oro would malvc us two ; 

NO IKS. iio 

Tlipy ;ire goiul innviablos of lull-, 
To plodf^f i>r Ht'll, wlifii innilc of plutr ; 
When nikcs at taviTiis, or at stcnvs. 
Drink out their buckles, and their shm-s." 

A note upon Briujur-hunsnrvb, adds, " A kind of scalloped 
Brogue, with two lilts more f;ishioiial)lu than ordinary, lor 
gentlemen and the better sort of people to wear, before shoes 
came in fashion in Ireland." 

" The brogue or shoe of the Irish peasantry," is said by 
Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall, to differ " in its construction from the 
shoe of any other country. It was formerly made of nnUmned 
hide, but for the last century at least, it has been made of 
tanned leather. The leather of the uppers is mucli stronger 
than what is used in the strongest shoes, being made of cow 
hide dressed for the, and it never has an inside lining 
like the ordinary shoe ; the sole leather is generally of an 
inferior description. The process of making the brogue is 
entirely different to that of shocmaking ; and the tools used 
in the work, excepting the hammer, pinchers, and knife, bear 
little analogy. The awl, though used in common by both 
operators, is much larger than the largest used by the shoe- 
maker, and unlike in the bend." Much curious information 
respecting the manufacture of brogues, may be found in tljc 
work to which the Editor is indebted for this extract. — {Hull's 
Trvland, Vol. i. pp. ISi), 100), where it is stated, that " the 
l)rogue makers pride themselves on the anti(|uity of their 
trade; and boast over the shoemakers, whom they consider 
only a spurious graft on their more nol)Ieart." 

I'. It, 1. lit,-'' Stet-j, Mullo!,/,l,ertr] MiilloRlibert, wliiil. 
is ixjilaiiRil in tlio ncttc ;is " tlu- liill ol rffcrc'iicc," is littTally 
llic hill of judpoincut. ( Mulhiili bearl ). .Speuscr in liis 
View ol" the State of Irchmd, says : " There is a great use 
ainon;; the Irish to make fj^reat assemblies lo{;;ether upon a 
Rath or Hill, there to parly (as they say) about matters and 
wronj^s between Township and Township, or one jjrivate per- 
son and another. But well I wot, and true it hath been of- 
tentimes proved, that in their mectint^s, many mischiefs have 
been liolh practised and wrought ; for to them do eomnionly 
resort all the scum of the people, where they may meet and 
confer of what they list, which else they could not do without 
suspicion or knowledge of others. Besides, at these meetin;rs 
1 have known divers times, that many Englishmen, and good 
Irish subjects, h.ive been villanously murdered by moving one 
([uarrel or another against them. For the Irish never come 
to those Raths but armed, whether on horse, or on foot ; 
which the English, nothing suspecting, are then cfminionly 
taken at advanUige like sheep in a pen-fold. 

A view of one of those judgement seats, on the hill of Kyle, 
in the Queen's County, is given in Dr. Ledwich's " Antii|uities 
of Ireland." IJc says" it was comnioii in Wales to throw nj) 
an earthen mount, whereon the judges sat; and this wjis called 
a Gorsedde." 

P. 1 < t, II. a, (i, — " Cura(jh Can a Wee, Full often have I made 
II son;/ for thfr.^'] Dr. Smith (p. lOS) describing the parish 
of (ilanbehy, in the barony of Iveragh, says that it is "so 
named from llie river Behy which waters it ; the greater yinvl 
of it is extremely rough. The road from the other parts of 
Kerry, into this barony, runs over very high and sleep liills, 
that stand in this parish, called Druntj and Cahinanawy ; 
which road hangs, in a tremendous niannn. ovn- that |i;trl of 

NOTES. .).) 

llic si'ii that tonus the liay nt' ('astUniaiii, ami is imt unlike ihi' 
niuuiiUin of Pcuineuinaure in North Wales, except that the 
road here is metre stony and less secure for the traveller. 
There is a custom amonjf the country' people, to enjoin every 
one that passes this mountain, to make some verses to its 
honour, otherwise they ailirin, that whoever attempts to jiass 
it without vei-sifying, must meet with some mischance : the 
orif^inal of which notion seems to he, that it will reiiuire a per- 
son's whole circumspection to preserve himself Jrom fallinii; otV 
his horse. They," continues Doctor Smith, " repeated to me 
several performance^, both in Irish and English, made on this 
occasion; but this mountain is not, like that of Helicon, con- 
secrated to the Muses, for all the verses that I heard were 
almost as rugfjed and uncouth as the road on which they were 
made, — fur which reason I shall not trouble the reader witli 
them ; altliough I had several coi)ies jjivcn mo for that pur- 

.\ writer under the ii'im dc (/ncrre of Ur. M'Slatt, presumed 
to be Mr. Windele of Cork, says : " The sound or strait be- 
tween Clear and Skerkin (in the county of Cork) is called Gas- 
canan, and is singular for a usage which retpiires that all who 
cross it for the first time should improvise, at least a couplet ; some mi.schance may be the consetjuence. A simi- 
lar exercise of the little of poetry within us is required on 
passing the rufrLfed pathway of Cahircanawy, overhanging tin- 
dizzy clifls of Castleniain ; and I doubt not but a collirtion 
of these effusions would afford a rare picture of the miml of 
the gentry who freijuent tliese pas.sages of song." 

I'. 1(», 11. !», 10, ll,~'' K no, k (I rum, w/trn- our forcftttlurs 
set Ipon thy lofli/ lop l/i' in-^itlioits nrt, To cnlrli Dcfiitnniiii 
irild."] (icrald, the si.\teenth Karl of Desmond, anil his 
lowers, were literally hunted down by the It is the 


{)i)l)iil;tr tniditioii, fli;it soiiu; of the wild Irish ill Kerry were 
taken by iiettiiii^ thoiii. 

P. 10, 1. 14, — '^^ Great Anglesey."^ Sir Arlluir Annesley, 
the sixth Viseoimt Valentia, succeeded to the title on the death 
of his hiDther, IHth Sep., 1710. He had been "a Gentleman 
of the Privy Chamber to William and Anne ; and, after his 
succession to the honours, was appointed (Uth October), joint 
Vice Treasurer of Ireland ; and, lOth, sworn of the Privy Coun- 
cil in Kuirland. In 171 1, he was one of the Commissioners for 
building lifty new churches ; and 9lli July that year, sworn of the 
Privy Council in Ireland, taking his seat the same day in tlie 
House of Peers. On the death of the Queen, he was one of the 
Lord Justices of England, to administer affairs until King 
George I anrived from Hanover; who (1st October 1714) called 
him into his Privy Council of both kingdcmis; and 15th January 
ft)llowing, made him joint Vice Treasurer and Treasurer at 
AV'ar. On the deatli of the Duke of Manchester, he was 
elected in full senate (l<5th February 1721) High Steward of 
the University of Caml)ridge, where he had liis education, and 
which he had represented in three several ])arliaments. On 
the 2!Hh November 1727, he was made Lord Lieutenant and 
Governor of the County of Wexford, and sworn a Privy 
Coimcillor to King George II on his accession to the crown." 
— Lodge's Peerage. 

Viscount Valentia died 1st April 17:57, willKHit issue, and 
was succeeded in the title by Lord Altham. 

P. 10, 1. l.'>, — " Dexmnud."'] " A considerable part of 
Kerry was formerly a distinct county in itself, called Desmond ; 
it consisted of that part of Kerry which lies south of the Mang, 
with the barony of Bear and Bantry in the County of Cork ; 
and was a jialalinate luuler the jurisdiction of the Karls of 


Desmond. It is inic tht* iiiiciciit country of Desmond, or 
South Munster, extended niueh farther, as ai)j)eai-s l)y the 
grant of Henry II to llohert Titz Steidieu and Milo ile 
C'ogan. Its limits were from the liill of St. JJrandon [in 
Kerr)] to the river lihiekwater, near Lismorc, and eonipre- 
hended tlie County of Cork as well as Kerry." — Smith\s Kern/. 
P 10,1.19, — '■'■ Cosher hire thix nliihtr] An invitation to 
bed and hoard. The Irish word cosair signifies both ai bed 
and a banciuet. '' Ctishering " is incorrectly cxjdained in the 
Irish Iludibras as "gossiping;" although the meaning of the 
word in that work is clearly established by the lines -. — 

" A very fit and proper house, sir, 
For such n worthy guest to cosher." 

In the Vocabulary appended to the Irish St;itc Papers of the 
reign of Henry VIII, published by royal authority, " cosher, 
rosherrr, coshif, courheri/, or coj/sshrr" are defined, — " an ex- 
action of lodging and victUtals for the lord and his retinue." 

P. 11, 1. '>, — " Slacanii."} The edible sea weed in England 
is called laver. The Irish name is compounded of two words 
signifying " tiiu(}-huttery 

P. 11, 1. 7, — '''' Etjg shelUy] No uncommon mode of 
measuring whiskey, in the absence of a glass, was by an egg 

P. 11,1. S, — " /w/r </()«•/( OH )-H.s7i(s."] The l-'reneh tra- 
veller, M. la BouUaye le Gouz, who visited Ireland in KMl, 
speaking of the residences of the higher classes says, — " lis 
unt peu dc meublcs, et oment lours chambres de iong, dont ils 
font leurs liets en Kste, et de paille en Hyner, ils metteiit vn 
pied de iong autour do leur chambre et sur leurs feneslrrs, el 
plusicurs d'entreux ornenl leurs plaiuhers de vanuaux." At 


the cldbf of the scvciitccnlh cciitmv, a cahin is (IcbCiibcd in 
tlie Irish Hudilnas, — 

" TIk! floor boni-atli with riihlicK luid, Ktvuil 
C)l' lajii'stry ; no bt'il uor boilsUjad." 

Ami a Hast as furnished — 

" Willi ii.ipkius wove of lliigs uuj rushes." 

TlilC END. 

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