He wistè that a man was repentaunt.
For many a man so hard is of his herte,
He may not wepe although him sorè smerte.
Therfore in stede of weping and praieres,
Men mote1 give silver to the pourè freres.
His tippet was ay farsed2 ful of knives,
And pinnès, for to given fayrè wives.
And certainly he hadde a mery note.
Wel coude he singe and plaien on a rote3.
Of yeddinges he bar utterly the pris.
His nekke was whitè as the flour de lis.
Therto he strong was as a champioun,
And knew wel the tavérnes in every toun,
And every hosteler and tappestere,
Better than a lazar or a beggestere,
For unto swiche a worthy man as he
Accordeth not, as by his facultè,
To haven with sike lazars acquaintance.
It is not honest, it may not avànce®,
As for to delen with no swiche pouràille",
But all with riche, and sellers of vitaille.
And over all, ther as profit shuld arise,
Curteis he was, and lowly of servise.
Ther nas no man no wher so vertuous.
He was the beste begger in his hous:
[And gave a certain fermès for the grant,
Non of his bretheren came in his haunt.]
For though a widewe haddè but a shoo,
(So plesant was his in principio)
Yet wold he have a ferthing or he went.
8 farm. This couplet only appears in the Hengwrt MS. As Mr. Pollard says, it is probably Chaucer's, but may have been omitted by him as it interrupts the sentence. Cf. Globe Chaucer.
His pourchas was wel better than his rent.1
And rage he coude as it hadde ben a whelp,
In lovèdayes, ther coude he mochel help.
For ther he was nat like a cloisterere,
With thredbare cope, as is a poure scolere,
But he was like a maister or a pope.
Of double worsted was his semicope3,
That round was as a belle out of the presse.
Somwhat he lisped, for his wantonnesse,
To make his English swete upon his tonge;
And in his harping, whan that he hadde songe,
His eyen twinkeled in his hed aright,
As don the sterrès in a frosty night.
This worthy limitour was cleped Hubèrd.
IV. THE LONDON LACKPENNY.
This is an admirable picture of London life early in the fifteenth century. The poem first appeared among Lydgate's fugitive pieces, and has been preserved in the Harleian MSS.
TO London once my steps I bent,
Where truth in no wise should be faint;
To Westminster-ward I forthwith went,
To a man of Law to make complaint.
I said, "For Mary's love, that holy saint,
Pity the poor that would proceed!"
But for lack of money, I could not speed.
1 The proceeds of his begging exceeded his fixed income.
2 Days appointed for the amicable settlement of differences.
* half cloak.
And, as I thrust the press among,
By froward chance my hood was gone;
Yet for all that I stayed not long
Till to the King's Bench I was come.
Before the Judge I kneeled anon
And prayed him for God's sake take heed.
But for lack of money, I might not speed.
Beneath them sat clerks a great rout1,
Which fast did write by one assent;
There stood up one and cried about
"Richard, Robert, and John of Kent!"
I wist not well what this man meant,
He cried so thickly there indeed.
But he that lacked money might not speed.
To the Common Pleas I yode tho2,
There sat one with a silken hood:
I 'gan him reverence for to do,
And told my case as well as I could;
How my goods were defrauded me by falsehood; I got not a mum of his mouth for my meed3, And for lack of money I might not speed.
Unto the Rolls I gat me from thence,
Before the clerks of the Chancery;
Where many I found earning of pence;
But none at all once regarded me.
I gave them my plaint upon my knee;
They liked it well when they had it read;
But, lacking money, I could not be sped.
In Westminster Hall I found out one,
Which went in a long gown of ray1;
I crouched and knelt before him; anon,
For Mary's love, for help I him pray.
"I wot not what thou mean'st", 'gan he say;
To get me thence he did me bid,
For lack of money I could not speed.
Within this Hall, neither rich nor yet poor
Would do for me aught although I should die;
Which seing, I gat me out of the door;
Where Flemings began on me for to cry,-
"Master, what will you copen1 or buy?
Fine felt hats, or spectacles to read?
Lay down your silver, and here you may speed."
To Westminster Gate I presently went,
When the sun was at high prime;
Cooks to me they took good intent2,
And proffered me bread, with ale and wine,
Ribs of beef, both fat and full fine;
A fairé cloth they 'gan for to spread,
But, wanting money, I might not then speed.
Then unto London I did me hie,
Of all the land it beareth the prize;
"Hot peascodes!" one began to cry;
"Strawberries ripe!" and "Cherries in the rise3!"
One bade me come near and buy some spice;
Pepper and saffrone they 'gan me bede1;
But, for lack of money, I might not speed.
Then to the Cheap I 'gan me drawn,
Where much people I saw for to stand;
One offered me velvet, silk, and lawn;
Another he taketh me by the hand,
"Here is Paris thread, the finest in the land";
I never was used to such things indeed;
And, wanting money, I might not speed.
Then went I forth by London stone,
Throughout all the Canwick Street;
Drapers much cloth me offered anon;
Then comes me one cried, "Hot sheep's feet!" One cried, "Mackarel!" "Rushes green!" another 'gan greet1;
One bade me buy a hood to cover my head;
But for want of money I might not be sped.
Then I hied me into East Cheap:
One cries "Ribs of beef and many a pie!"
Pewter pots they clattered on a heap;
There was harpé, pipe, and minstrelsy:
"Yea, by cock!" "Nay, by cock!" some began cry; Some sung of "Jenkin and Julian" for their meed; But, for lack of money, I might not speed.
Then into Cornhill anon I yode
Where there was much stolen gear among;
I saw where hung my owné hood,
That I had lost among the throng:
To buy my own hood I thought it wrong;
I knew it as well as I did my creed;
But, for lack of money, I could not speed.
The Taverner took me by the sleeve;
"Sir," saith he, "will you our wine assay?"
I answered, "That cannot much me grieve;
A penny can do no more than it may."
I drank a pint, and for it did pay;
Yet, sore a-hungered from thence I yede;
And, wanting money, I could not speed.
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