It is wronge with eche degre; Accuseth the spiritualte; 3 Dothe grudge and complayne Of wull amonges theyr flocke. A glommynge and a mummynge, All to have promocyon; There is theyr hole devocyon, With money, if it wyll hap, To catche the forked cap. "For love swetnes And joy endles I made my lady fre, Unto my lyknes 1 I gave her quicnes "O my swet store, My true love therfore Thy place yt ys above; What man may do more Than only dy therfore, 14 21 'Quho is at my windo? Quho? Quho? Go from my windo, go, go! Quho callis thair Sa lyke a strangair? Go from my windo, go!" "Lord I am heir, ane wretchit mortall That for thy mercy dois cry and call Unto the, my Lord celestiall. Se quho is at thy windo, quho!" Forsothe they are to lewd To say so, all beshrewd! EARLY TUDOR LYRICS (c. 1500) I. RELIGIOUS LYRICS I Thys ender nyght3 I saw a syght, A star as bright as day; And ever among A maydyn song: By-by, baby, lullay! Thys vyrgyn clere Wythowtyn pere Unto hur son gane say: "My son, my lorde, My fathere dere, Why lyest thow in hay? 6 12 3. "Me thought they did mee beate and binde, And tooke my bow mee froe; 4. 18 ΙΟ 20 1. When shawes beene sheene, and shradds ' ΙΟ "Sweavens 2 are swift, master," quoth John, "As the wind that blowes ore a hill; For if itt be never soe lowde this night, To-morrow it may be still." 5. "Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all, 6. They cast on their gowne of greene, Until they came to the merry greenwood, There were they ware of a wight yeoman, His body leaned to a tree. 7. A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, 20 30 8. "Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John, "Under this trusty tree, And I will goe to yond wight yeoman, 9. "A, John, by me thou setts noe store, IO. How offt send I my men beffore, "It is noe cunning a knave to ken; II. But often words they breeden bale; The gates he knowes eche one. 12. And when hee came to Barnesdale, 5 13. And Scarlett a-ffoote flyinge was, For the sheriffe with seven score men 5 40 50 1 avenged dreams 3 horse-hide strange valley "That ere thou grew on a tree! For this day thou art my bale, My boote3 when thou shold bee!" 17. This shoote it was but looselye shott, The arrowe flew in vaine, And it mett one of the sheriffes men; 18. It had beene better for William a Trent 19. And it is sayd, when men be mett, And bound him ffast to a tree. 70 25. "I seeke an outlaw," quoth Sir Guye, "Men call him Robin Hood; I had rather meet with him upon a day 67 100 26. "If you tow mett, itt wold be seene whether were better Afore yee did part awaye; 27. "Let us some other masteryes make, 1 yew 2 made ready 3help 4 astray |