BIRTHA, Mastre
_Edwarde
Canynge_.
Thomas Chatterton - Rowley Poems
Syrr CHARLES dydd uppe the scaffold goe,
As uppe a gilded carre 350
Of victorye, bye val'rous chiefs
Gayn'd ynne the bloudie warre:
And to the people hee dydd saie,
"Beholde you see mee dye,
For servynge loyally mye kynge, 355
Mye kynge most rightfullie.
"As longe as EDWARDE rules thys lande,
Ne quiet you wylle knowe;
Youre sonnes and husbandes shalle bee slayne.
And brookes wythe bloude shalle flowe. 360
"You leave youre goode and lawfulle kynge.
Whenne ynne adversitye;
Lyke mee, untoe the true cause stycke,
And for the true cause dye. "
Thenne hee, wyth preestes, uponne hys knees, 365
A pray'r to Godde dydd make,
Beseechynge hym unto hymselfe
Hys partynge soule to take.
Thenne, kneelynge downe, hee layd hys hedde
Most seemlie onne the blocke; 370
Whyche fromme hys bodie fayre at once
The able heddes-manne stroke:
And oute the bloude beganne to flowe,
And rounde the scaffolde twyne;
And teares, enow to washe't awaie, 375
Dydd flowe fromme each mann's eyne.
The bloudie axe hys bodie fayre
Ynnto foure parties cutte;
And ev'rye parte, and eke hys hedde,
Uponne a pole was putte. 380
One parte dydd rotte onne Kynwulph-hylle,
One onne the mynster-tower,
And one from off the castle-gate
The crowen dydd devoure:
The other onne Seyncte Powle's goode gate, 385
A dreery spectacle;
Hys hedde was plac'd onne the hyghe crosse,
Ynne hyghe-streete most nobile.
Thus was the ende of BAWDIN'S fate:
Godde prosper longe oure kynge, 390
And grante hee maye, wyth BAWDIN'S soule,
Ynne heav'n Godd's mercie synge!
AELLA:
A
TRAGYCAL ENTERLUDE,
OR
DISCOORSEYNGE TRAGEDIE,
WROTENN BIE
THOMAS ROWLEIE;
PLAIEDD BEFORE
MASTRE CANYNGE, ATTE HYS HOWSE NEMPTE THE RODDE LODGE;
[ALSOE BEFORE THE DUKE OF NORFOLCK, JOHAN HOWARD. ]
PERSONNES REPRESENTEDD.
AELLA, bie _Thomas Rowleie_, Preeste, the Aucthoure.
CELMONDE, _Johan Iscamm_, Preeste.
HURRA, Syrr _Thybbotte Gorges_, Knyghte.
BIRTHA, Mastre _Edwarde Canynge_.
Odherr Partes bie _Knyghtes Mynstrelles_.
EPISTLE TO MASTRE CANYNGE ON AELLA.
'Tys songe bie mynstrelles, thatte yn auntyent tym,
Whan Reasonn hylt[1] herselfe in cloudes of nyghte,
The preeste delyvered alle the lege[2] yn rhym;
Lyche peyncted[3] tyltynge speares to please the syghte,
The whyche yn yttes felle use doe make moke[4] dere[5], 5
Syke dyd theire auncyante lee deftlie[6] delyghte the eare.
Perchaunce yn Vyrtues gare[7] rhym mote bee thenne,
Butt eefte[8] nowe flyeth to the odher syde;
In hallie[9] preeste apperes the ribaudes[10] penne,
Inne lithie[11] moncke apperes the barronnes pryde: 10
But rhym wythe somme, as nedere[12] widhout teethe,
Make pleasaunce to the sense, botte maie do lyttel scathe[13].
Syr Johne, a knyghte, who hath a barne of lore[14],
Kenns[15] Latyn att fyrst syghte from Frenche or Greke,
Pyghtethe[16] hys knowlachynge[17] ten yeres or more, 15
To rynge upon the Latynne worde to speke.
Whoever spekethe Englysch ys despysed,
The Englysch hym to please moste fyrste be latynized.
Vevyan, a moncke, a good requiem[18] synges;
Can preache so wele, eche hynde[19] hys meneynge knowes 20
Albeytte these gode guyfts awaie he flynges,
Beeynge as badde yn vearse as goode yn prose.
Hee synges of seynctes who dyed for yer Godde,
Everych wynter nyghte afresche he sheddes theyr blodde.
To maydens, huswyfes, and unlored[20] dames, 25
Hee redes hys tales of merryment & woe.
Loughe[21] loudlie dynneth[22] from the dolte[23] adrames[24];
He swelles on laudes of fooles, tho' kennes[25] hem soe.
Sommetyme at tragedie theie laughe and synge,
At merrie yaped[26] fage[27] somme hard-drayned water brynge. 30
Yette Vevyan ys ne foole, beyinde[28] hys lynes.
Geofroie makes vearse, as handycraftes theyr ware;
Wordes wythoute sense fulle grossyngelye[29] he twynes,
Cotteynge hys storie off as wythe a sheere;
Waytes monthes on nothynge, & hys storie donne, 35
Ne moe you from ytte kenn, than gyf[30] you neere begonne.
Enowe of odhers; of mieselfe to write,
Requyrynge whatt I doe notte nowe possess,
To you I leave the taske; I kenne your myghte
Wyll make mie faultes, mie meynte[31] of faultes, be less. 40
AELLA wythe thys I sende, and hope that you
Wylle from ytte caste awaie, whatte lynes maie be untrue.
