Epigram : If Breath Were Made For Every Man To Buy
If breath were made for every man to buy,
The poor man could not live, rich would not die.
Foweles In The Frith
Foweles in the frith,
The fisses in the flod,
And I mon waxe wod;
Mulch sorwe I walke with
For best of bon and blod.
The Lover in Winter Plaineth for the Spring
Western wind, when will thou blow
The small rain down can rain?
Christ, if my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again!
Westron wynde when wyll thou blow,
The smalle rayne down can rayne -
Cryst, yf my love wer in my armys
And I yn my bed agayne!
Many A Man Doth Speake Of Mee
Many a man doth speake of mee,
But no man euer shall me see,
For all in one, doe full agree
That no where must my dwelling bee.
The wave, over the wave, a weird thing I saw,
through-wrought, and wonderfully ornate:
a wonder on the wave --- water become bone.
The Irish Dancer
Ich am of Irlaunde,
Ant of the holy londe
Gode sire, pray ich the,
For of saynte charite,
Come ant daunce wyth me
Not Marke, But Mercurie Keepes Her Warme
Not Marke, but Mercurie keepes her warme,
And Neptune hugs her in his arme
Infertill, fertile of all good things,
Her Lord her seruant her children kings.
Roome Is A Taker, Poets Say
Roome is a taker, Poets say,
And lawyers are so too, you see
Roome is a taker by my fate,
No learned man can disagree,
And roome shall take, beleeue well me,
At least till something, no where be.
An Old Epitaph Found In Bedford
Mary Wryte and her mother
Her father ande brother--
Was Alle of them drowned,
Inn Bvckstones povnde.
6 Febrry : An.Dm. ----
IN. MERCYE. THER
PRAYRE. TAKE=TO. HEVENYS,
FOR THYE DEARE SONNE'S