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[Housewifely Physic.]

Good huswife provides, ere a sickness do come,
Of sundry good things in her house to have some.
Good aqua composita, and vinegar tart,
Rose-water, and treacle, to comfort thine heart.
Cold herbs in her garden, for agues that burn,
That over-strong heat to good temper may turn.
White endive, and succory, with spinach enow;
All such with good pot-herbs, should follow the

Get water of fumitory, liver to cool,

And others the like, or else lie like a fool.
Conserves of barbary, quinces, and such,
With sirops, that easeth the sickly so much.
Ask Medicus' counsel, ere medicine ye take,
And honour that man for necessity's sake.
Though thousands hate physic, because of the cost,
Yet thousands it helpeth, that else should be lost.
Good broth, and good keeping, do much now and than:
Good diet, with wisdom, best comforteth man.
In health, to be stirring shall profit thee best;
In sickness, hate trouble; seek quiet and rest.
Remember thy soul; let no fancy prevail;
Make ready to God-ward; let faith never quail:
The sooner thyself thou submittest to God,
The sooner he ceaseth to scourge with his rod.

[Moral Reflections on the Wind.]

Though winds do rage, as winds were wood,1
And cause spring-tides to raise great flood;
And lofty ships leave anchor in mud,
Bereaving many of life and of blood;
Yet, true it is, as cow chews cud,
And trees, at spring, doth yield forth bud,
Except wind stands as never it stood,
It is an ill wind turns none to good.


While Surrey and Wyatt were imparting fresh beauties to English poetry, Dunbar and his contem

Sir David Lyndsay. poraries were succeeded in Scotland by several poets of considerable talent, whose improvements, however,

1 Mad

fell far short of those effected in the literature of their southern neighbours. The most eminent of these writers was SIR DAVID LYNDSAY, born about 1490, who, after serving King James V., when that monarch was a boy, as sewer, carver, cup-bearer, purse-master, chief cubicular; in short, everything -bearing him as an infant upon his back, and dancing antics for his amusement as a boy-was appointed to the important office of Lord Lyon King at Arms, and died about the year 1555. He chiefly shone as a satirical and humorous writer, and his great fault is an entire absence of that spirit of refinement which graced the contemporary literature of England. The principal objects of Lyndsay's vituperations were the clergy, whose habits at this period (just before the Reformation) were such as to afford unusually ample scope for the pen of the satirist. Our poet, also, although a state officer, and long a servant to the king, uses little delicacy in exposing the abuses of the court. His chief poems are placed in the following succession by his editor, Mr George Chalmers:-The Dreme, written about 1528; The Complaynt, 1529; The Complaynt of the King's Papingo (Peacock), 1530; The Play (or Satire) of the Three Estates, 1535; Kitteis Confession, 1541; The History of Squire Meldrum, 1550; The Monarchie, 1553. The three first of these poems are moralisings upon the state and government of the kingdom, during two of its dismal minorities. The Play is an extraordinary performance, a satire upon the whole of the three political orders-monarch, barons, and clergy-full of humour and grossness, and curiously illustrative of the taste of the times. Notwithstanding its satiric pungency, and, what is apt to be now more surprising, notwithstanding the introduction of indecencies not fit to be described, the Satire of the Three Estates was acted in presence of the court, both at Cupar and Edinburgh, the stage being in the open air. Kitteis Confession is a satire on one of the practices of Roman Catholics. By his various burlesques of that party, he is said to have largely contributed to the progress of the Reformation in Scotland. The History of Squire Meldrum is perhaps the most pleasing of all this author's works. It is considered the last poem that in any degree partakes of the character of the metrical romance.

Of the dexterity with which Lyndsay could point a satirical remark on an error of state policy, we may judge from the following very brief passage of his Complaynt, which relates to the too early committal of the government to James V. It is given in the original spelling.

Imprudently, like witles fules,

Thay tuke the young prince from the scules,
Quhere he, under obedience,

Was learnand vertew and science,

And hastilie pat in his hand

The governance of all Scotland:

As quha wald, in ane stormie blast,
Quhen marinaris been all agast,
Throw danger of the seis rage,
Wald tak ane child of tender age,
Quhilk never had bin on the sey,
And gar his bidding all obey,
Geving him hail the governall,
To ship, marchand, and marinall,
For dreid of rockis and foir land,
To put the ruthir in his hand.
I give them to-

Quhilk first devisit that counsell;
I will nocht say that it was tressoun,
But I dar sweir it was na ressoun.

I pray God lat me never see ring
Into this realme sa young ane king.



[A Carman's Account of a Law-suit.]

Of tails I will no more indite,
For dread some duddron' me despite :

Marry, I lent my gossip my mare, to fetch hame coals, Notwithstanding, I will conclude, And he her drounit into the



And I ran to the consistory, for to pleinyie,

And there I happenit amang ane greedie meinyie.1
They gave me first ane thing they call citandum;
Within aucht days I gat but libellandum;
Within ane month I gat ad opponendum;
In half ane year I gat inter-loquendum,

And syne I gat-how call ye it ad replicandum;
Bot I could never ane word yet understand him:
And then they gart me cast out mony placks,
And gart me pay for four-and-twenty acts.
Bot or they came half gate to concludendum,
The fiend ane plack was left for to defend him.
Thus they postponed me twa year with their train,
Syne, hodie ad octo, bade me come again:
And then thir rooks they rowpit wonder fast
For sentence, silver, they cryit at the last.
Of pronunciandum they made me wonder fain,
Bot I gat never my gude grey mare again.

Supplication in Contemption of Side Tails.

Sovereign, I mean3 of thir side tails,
Whilk through the dust and dubs trails,
Three quarters lang behind their heels,
Express again' all commonweals.
Though bishops, in their pontificals,
Have men for to bear up their tails,
For dignity of their office;

Richt so ane queen or ane emprice;
Howbeit they use sic gravity,
Conformand to their majesty,
Though their robe-royals be upborne,
I think it is ane very scorn,
That every lady of the land

Should have her tail so side trailand;
Howbeit they been of high estate,
The queen they should not counterfeit.
Wherever they go it may be seen
How kirk and causay they soop clean.
The images into the kirk

May think of their side tails irk ;4
For when the weather been maist fair,
The dust flies highest into the air,
And all their faces does begary,

Gif they could speak, they wald them wary.
But I have maist into despite

Poor claggocks clad in Raploch white,
Whilk has scant twa merks for their fees,
Will have twa ells beneath their knees.
Kittock that cleckit6 was yestreen,
The morn, will counterfeit the queen.
In barn nor byre she will not bide,
Without her kirtle tail be side.
In burghs, wanton burgess wives
Wha may have sidest tails strives,
Weel bordered with velvet fine,
But followand them it is ane pyne :
In summer, when the streets dries,
They raise the dust aboon the skies;
Nane may gae near them at their ease,
Without they cover mouth and neese.
I think maist pane after ane rain,
To see them tuckit up again;

Then when they step furth through the street,
Their fauldings flaps about their feet;
They waste mair claith, within few years,
Nor wald cleid fifty score of freirs.

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That of side tails can come nae gude,
Sider nor may their ankles hide,
The remanent proceeds of pride,
And pride proceeds of the devil,
Thus alway they proceed of evil.
Ane other fault, Sir, may be seen,
They hide their face all bot the een;
When gentlemen bid them gude day,
Without reverence they slide away.
Without their faults be soon amended,
My flyting,2 Sir, shall never be ended;
But wald your grace my counsel tak,
Ane proclamation ye should mak,
Baith through the land and burrowstouns,
To shaw their face and cut their gowns.
Women will say, this is nae bourds,3
To write sic vile and filthy words;
But wald they clenge their filthy tails,
Whilk over the mires and middings trails,
Then should my writing clengit be,
None other mends they get of me.

Quoth Lindsay, in contempt of the side tails,
That duddrons and duntibours through the dubs trails.

[The Building of the Tower of Babel, and Confusion of Tongues.]

(From the Monarchie.)

Their great fortress then did they found,
And cast till they gat sure ground.
All fell to work both man and child,
Some howkit clay, some burnt the tyld.
Nimron, that curious champion,
Deviser was of that dungeon.
Nathing they spared their labours,
Like busy bees upon the flowers,
Or emmets travelling into June;
Some under wrocht, and some aboon,
With strang ingenious masonry,
Upward their wark did fortify;
The land about was fair and plain,
And it rase like ane heich montane.
Those fulish people did intend,

That till the heaven it should ascend:
Sae great ane strength was never seen
Into the warld with men's een.
The wallis of that wark they made,
Twa and fifty fathom braid:
Ane fathom then, as some men says,
Micht been twa fathom in our days;
Ane man was then of mair stature
Nor twa be now, of this be sure.

The translator of Orosius

Intil his chronicle writes thus;
That when the sun is at the hicht,

At noon, when it doth shine maist bricht,
The shadow of that hideous strength
Sax mile and mair it is of length:
Thus may ye judge into your thocht,
Gif Babylon be heich, or nocht.
Then the great God omnipotent,
To whom all things been present,
He seeand the ambition,
And the prideful presumption,
How thir proud people did pretend,
Up through the heavens till ascend,
Sic languages on them he laid,
That nane wist what ane other said;
Where was but ane language afore,
God send them languages three score;

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Afore that time all spak Hebrew,
Then some began for to speak Grew,
Some Dutch, some language Saracen,
And some began to speak Latin.
The maister men gan to ga wild,
Cryand for trees, they brocht them tyld.
Some said, Bring mortar here at ance,

Then brocht they to them stocks and stanes;
And Nimrod, their great champion,
Ran ragand like ane wild lion,
Menacing them with words rude,

But never ane word they understood. *
for final conclusion,

Constrained were they for till depart,
Ilk company in ane sundry airt.

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A Praise of his (the Poet's) Lady. Give place, you ladies, and be gone. Boast not yourselves at all! For here at hand approacheth one, Whose face will stain you all! The virtue of her lively looks

Excels the precious stone:

I wish to have none other books
To read or look upon.

In each of her two crystal eyes
Smileth a naked boy:

It would you all in heart suffice
To see that lamp of joy.

I think Nature hath lost the mould,
Where she her shape did take;
Or else I doubt if Nature could
So fair a creature make.

She may be well compared

Unto the phoenix kind,

Whose like was never seen nor Leard,
That any man can find.

In life she is Diana chaste,
In troth Penelope,

In word and eke in deed steadfast:
What will you more we say!


Her roseal colour comes and goes
With such a comely grace,
More ruddier too than doth the rose,
Within her lively face.

At Bacchus' feast none shall her meet,
Ne at no wanton play;
Nor gazing in an open street,
Nor gadding as a stray.

The modest mirth that she doth use
Is mix'd with shamefac'dness;
All vice she doth wholly refuse,
And hateth idleness.

O Lord, it is a world to see
How virtue can repair,
And deck in her such honesty
Whom Nature made so fair!
Truly she doth as far exceed
Our women now-a-days,

As doth the gilly flower a weed,
And more a thousand ways.

How might I do to get a graff
Of this unspotted tree?
For all the rest are plain but chaff
Which seem good corn to be.
This gift alone I shall her give:

When Death doth what he can, Her honest fame shall ever live Within the mouth of man.

Amantium Ira amoris redintegratio est.

[By Richard Edwards, a court musician and poet, 1523-1566.] In going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept,

I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept.

She sighed sore, and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest. That would not cease, but cried still, in sucking at

her breast.

She was full weary of her watch, and grieved with her child,

She rocked it, and rated it, until on her it smil'd; Then did she say, 'Now have I found the proverb true to prove,

The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'

Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write,

In register for to remain of such a worthy wight.
As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat,
Much matter utter'd she of weight in place whereas

she sat ;

And proved plain, there was no beast, nor creature bearing life,

Could well be known to live in love without discòrd and strife:

Then kissed she her little babe, and sware by God above,

"The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'

'I marvel much, pardie,' quoth she, 'for to behold the rout,

To see man, woman, boy, and beast, to toss the world about;

Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothly smile,

And some embrace others in arms, and there think many a wile.

Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble, and some stout,

Yet are they never friends indeed until they once fall out.'

Thus ended she her song, and said, before she did remove,

'The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.'

[Characteristic of an Englishman.]

[By Andrew Bourd, physician to Henry VIII. The lines form an inscription under the picture of an Englishman, naked, with a roll of cloth in one hand, and a pair of scissors in the other.]

I am an Englishman, and naked I stand here, Musing in my mind what garment I shall wear, For now I will wear this, and now I will wear that, Now I will wear I cannot tell what:

All new fashions be pleasant to me,

I will have them whether I thrive or thee:
Now I am a fisher, all men on me look
What should I do but set cock on the hoop?
What do I care if all the world me fail,
I will have a garment reach to my tail.

Then I am a minion, for I wear the new guise, The next after I hope to be wise


Not only in wearing my gorgeous array,

For I will go to learning a whole summer's day;
I will learn Latin, Hebrew, Greek, and French,
And I will learn Dutch sitting on my bench.
I do fear no man, each man feareth me;

I overcome my adversaries by land and by sea:
I had no peer if to myself I were true;
Because I am not so diverse times do I rue:
Yet I lack nothing, I have all things at will,
If I were wise and would hold myself still,

And meddle with no matters but to me pertaining,
But ever to be true to God and my king.
But I have such matters rolling in my pate,
That I will and do-I cannot tell what.

No man shall let me, but I will have my mind,
And to father, mother, and friend, I'll be unkind.
I will follow mine own mind and mine old trade:
Who shall let me? The devil's nails are unpared.
Yet above all things new fashions I love well,
And to wear them my thrift I will sell.
In all this world I shall have but a time:
Hold the cup, good fellow, here is thine and mine!

The Nut-Brown Maid.

[Regarding the date and author of this piece no certainty exists. Prior, who founded his Henry and Emma upon it, fixes its date about 1400; but others, judging from the comparatively modern language of it, suppose it to have been composed subsequently to the time of Surrey. The poem opens with a declaration of the author, that the faith of woman is stronger than is generally alleged, in proof of which he proposes to relate the trial to which the Not-Browne Mayde' was exposed by her lover. What follows consists of a dialogue between the pair.]

HE. It standeth so; a deed is do',
Whereof great harm shall grow:

My destiny is for to die

A shameful death, I trow;

Or else to flee: the one must be,
None other way I know,

But to withdraw as an outlaw,
And take me to my bow.

Wherefore adieu, my own heart true!
None other rede I can:

For I must to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE. O Lord, what is this world's bliss,
That changeth as the moon!

My summer's day in lusty May
Is darked before the noon.

I hear you say, Farewell: Nay, nay,
We depart not so soon.

Why say ye so? whither will ye go?
Alas! what have ye done?
All my welfare to sorrow and care
Should change if ye were gone;
For in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

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SHE. Now sith that ye have showed to me
The secret of your mind,

I shall be plain to you again,
Like as ye shall me find.
Sith it is so that ye will go,

I will not live behind;

Shall never be said, the Nut-Brown Maid
Was to her love unkind:
Make you ready, for so am I,
Although it were anon;

For in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE. I counsel you, remember how
It is no maiden's law
Nothing to doubt, but to run out

To wood with an outlaw;
For ye must there in your hand bear

A bow, ready to draw;

And as a thief, thus must you live,
Ever in dread and awe.

Whereby to you great harm might grow:
Yet had I lever than,

That I had to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE. I think not nay, but, as ye say,
It is no maiden's lore:

But love may make me for your sake,
As I have said before,

To come on foot, to hunt and shoot
To get us meat in store;
For so that I your company
May have, I ask no more:
From which to part it makes my heart
As cold as any stone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-Yet take good heed, for ever I dread
That ye could not sustain

The thorny ways, the deep valleys,

The snow, the frost, the rain,

The cold, the heat; for, dry or weet,

We must lodge on the plain;

And us above, none other roof
But a brake bush or twain :
Which soon should grieve you, I believe,
And ye would gladly than

That I had to the greenwood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE. Sith I have here been partinèr
With you of joy and bliss,

I must also part of your wo
Endure, as reason is.

Yet I am sure of one pleasure,
And, shortly, it is this,

That, where ye be, me seemeth, pardie,
I could not fare amiss.

Without more speech, I you beseech
That ye were soon agone,

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE. If ye go thither, ye must consider,
When ye have list to dine,

There shall no meat be for you gete,
Nor drink, beer, ale, nor wine,
No sheetes clean, to lie between,
Made of thread and twine;

None other house but leaves and boughs,

To cover your head and mine.

Oh mine heart sweet, this evil diet,
Should make you pale and wan;
Wherefore I will to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-Among the wild deer, such an archer,

As men say that ye be,

Ye may not fail of good vittail,
Where is so great plentie.
And water clear of the rivér,
Shall be full sweet to me.

With which in heal, I shall right weel
Endure, as ye shall see ;
And, ere we go, a bed or two
I can provide anone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-Lo yet before, ye must do more,

If ye will go with me;

As cut your hair up by your ear,
Your kirtle to the knee;

With bow in hand, for to withstand
Your enemies, if need be ;

And this same night, before day-light,
To wood-ward will I flee.

If that ye will all this fulfill,

Do't shortly as ye can:

Else will I to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-I shall, as now, do more for you,
Than 'longeth to womanheed,
To short my hair, a bow to bear,
To shoot in time of need.

Oh, my sweet mother, before all other
For you I have most dread;
But now adieu ! I must ensue

Where fortune doth me lead.
All this make ye: Now let us flee ;
The day comes fast upon :
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,
And I shall tell you why:
Your appetite is to be light
Of love, I weel espy:

For like as ye have said to me,
In like wise, hardily,

Ye would answer whoever it were,

In way of company.

It is said of old, soon hot, soon cold;

And so is a woman,
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE. If ye take heed, it is no need
Such words to say by me;
For oft ye prayed and me assayed,
Ere I loved you, pardie:
And though that I, of ancestry,
A baron's daughter be,

Yet have you proved how I you loved,
A squire of low degree;

And ever shall, whatso befal;
To die therefore anon;

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-A baron's child to be beguiled,

It were a cursed deed!

To be fellàw with an outlaw,
Almighty God forbid !

It better were, the poor squièr
Alone to forest yede,

Than I should say, another day,

That, by my cursed deed,

We were betrayed: wherefore, good maid,

The best rede that I can,

Is, that I to the greenwood go,
Alone, a banished man.

1 Disposition.

SHE. Whatever befall, I never shall,
Of this thing you upbraid ;
But, if ye go, and leave me so,
Than have ye me betrayed.
Remember weel, how that you deal;
For if ye, as ye said,

Be so unkind to leave behind,
Your love, the Nut-Brown Maid,
Trust me truly, that I shall die
Soon after ye be gone;

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE. If that ye went, ye should repent;
For in the forest now

I have purveyed me of a maid,
Whom I love more than you;
Another fairèr than ever ye were,

I dare it weel avow,

And of you both each should be wroth
With other, as I trow :

It were mine ease to live in peace;
So will I, if I can ;

Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man.

SHE.-Though in the wood I understood
Ye had a paramour,

All this may not remove my thought,
But that I will be your.

And she shall find me soft and kind
And courteous every hour;
Glad to fulfill all that she will

Command me to my power.
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,

Of them I would be one;

For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone.

HE.-Mine own dear love, I see thee prove
That ye be kind and true;

Of maid and wife, in all my life,

The best that ever I knew.

Be merry and glad; no more be sad;
The case is changed now;

For it were ruth, that, for your truth,
Ye should have cause to rue.

Be not dismayed; whatever I said
To you, when I began ;

I will not to the greenwood go:

I am no banished man.

SHE. These tidings be more glad to me,
Than to be made a queen,

If I were sure they would endure:
But it is often seen,

When men will break promise, they speak
The wordes on the spleen.

Ye shape some wile me to beguile,

And steal from me, I ween:

Than were the case worse than it was,

And I more woe-begone :

For, in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.

HE.-Ye shall not need further to dread :

I will not disparage,

You (God defend !) sith ye descend Of so great a lineage.

Now understand; to Westmoreland,
Which is mine heritage,

I will you bring; and with a ring,
By way of marriage,

I will you take, and lady make,

As shortly as I can:

Thus have you won an earl's son,
And not a banished man.


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