Poetry. John Skelton

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Poetry - John Skelton

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      The storyes by name 660

      Of Judas Machabeus,

      And of Cesar Julious;

      And of the loue betwene

      Paris and Vyene;

      Fordrede and to quake;

      How Scipion dyd wake

      The cytye of Cartage,

      He bete downe to the grounde:

      And though I can expounde

      Of Hector of Troye,

      That was all theyr ioye,

      Whom Achylles slew,

      Wherfore all Troy dyd rew;

      And of the loue so hote

      That made Troylus to dote

      Vpon fayre Cressyde,

      And what they wrote and sayd, 680

      And of theyr wanton wylles

      Pandaer bare the bylles

      From one to the other;

      His maisters loue to further,

      Somtyme a presyous thyng,

      An ouche, or els a ryng;

      From her to hym agayn

      Somtyme a prety chayn,

      Or a bracelet of her here,

      Prayd Troylus for to were 690

      That token for her sake;

      How hartely he dyd it take,

      And moche therof dyd make;

      And all that was in vayne,

      For she dyd but fayne;

      The story telleth playne,

      He coulde not optayne,

      Though his father were a kyng,

      Yet there was a thyng

      She made hym to syng

      The song of louers lay;

      Musyng nyght and day,

      Mournyng all alone,

      Comfort had he none,

      For she was quyte gone;

      Thus in conclusyon,

      She brought him in abusyon;

      In ernest and in game

      She was moch to blame; 710

      Disparaged is her fame,

      And blemysshed is her name,

      In maner half with shame;

      Troylus also hath lost

      On her moch loue and cost,

      And now must kys the post;

      Pandara, that went betwene,

      Hath won nothing, I wene,

      But lyght for somer grene;

      Yet for a speciall laud 720

      He is named Troylus baud,

      Of that name he is sure

      Whyles the world shall dure:

      Though I remembre the fable

      Of Penelope most stable,

      To her husband most trew,

      Yet long tyme she ne knew

      Whether he were on lyue or ded;

      Her wyt stood her in sted,

      That she was true and iust 730

      For any bodely lust

      To Ulixes her make,

      And neuer wold him forsake:

      Of Marcus Marcellus

      A proces I could tell vs;

      And of Anteocus;

      And of Josephus

      De Antiquitatibus;

      And of Mardocheus,

      And of great Assuerus, 740

      And of Vesca his queene,

      Whom he forsoke with teene,

      And of Hester his other wyfe,

      With whom he ledd a plesaunt life;

      Of kyng Alexander;

      And of kyng Euander;

      And of Porcena the great,

      Though I haue enrold

      A thousand new and old 750

      Of these historious tales,

      To fyll bougets and males

      With bokes that I haue red,

      Yet I am nothyng sped,

      And can but lytell

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