A Rose And A Nettle

WHAT atime herbs and weeds, and such things could talk,

A man in his garden one day did walk,

Spying a nettle green (as th'emeraude*) spread         [emerald]

In a bed of roses like the ruby red.

Between which two colours he thought, by his eye,

The green nettle did the red rose beautify.

"Howbeit," he ask'd the nettle, "what thing

Made him so pert? so nigh the rose to spring?"

"I grow here with these roses," said the nettle,

"Their mild properties in me to settle;

And you, in laying unto me your nose,

Shall smell how a nettle may change to a rose."

He did so; which done, his nostrils so pritcht*         [prickled]

That rashly he rubbed where it no whit itched;

To which smart mock and wily beguiling,

He, the same smelling, said smoothly smiling--

"Roses convert nettles: Nay, they be too fell*;          [evil]

Nettles will pervert roses rather, I smell."

John Heywood

The Woodcock and The Daw

A WOODCOCK and a Daw sat upon a plain,

Both showed comparison each other to disdain.

"Back!" (quoth the Woodcock). "Straw for thee!" (quoth the Daw);

"Shall woodcocks keep daws now in dreadful awe?"

"None awe," (quoth the Woodcock), "but in behaviour,

Ye ought to reverence woodcocks, by your favour!"

"For what cause?" (quoth the Daw), "For your long bills?"

"Nay," (quoth the Woodcock)< "but lords will, by their wills,

Rather have one woodcock than a thousand daws;

Woodcocks are meat, daws are carrion--weigh this clause."

"Indeed, sir," (said the Daw), I must needs agree;

Lords love to eat you, and not to eat me--

Cause of daws' courtesies!--so, if woodcocks thus gather,

Ye shall have courtesy; for this, I would rather

Be a daw, and to woodcock courtesy make,

Than be a woodcock, and of daws courtesy take.

I would double a daw, had I not liever*          [desire]

Birders should, (in their birding endeavour),

Take up gins* and alet me go when they geat** me,           [traps] [catch]

Than set gins to get me, for lords to eat me."

John Heywood

Of Books And Cheese

NO two things in all things can seem only one;

Because two things so must be one thing alone.

Howbeit, reading of books and eating of cheese,

No two things, for some things, more like one than these.

The talent of one cheese in mouths of ten men

Hath ten different tastes in judgment--most times when

He saith "'tis too salt"; he saith "'tis too fresh";

He saith "'tis too hard"; he saith"'tis too nesh.*"        [soft]

"It is too strong of the rennet," saith he;

"It is," he saith, "not strong enough for me."

"It is," saith another, "well as can be."

No two of any ten in one can agree;

And, as they judge of cheese, so judge they of books.

Onlookers on which, who that narrowly looks,

May look for this: Saith he, "that book is too long."

"'Tis too short," saith he. "Nay," saith he, "ye say wrong,

'Tis of meet length; and, so fine phrase, or fair style,

The like that good book was not made a good while;

And, in touching the truth, invincibly wrought."

"'Tis all lies," saith another, "the book is nought."

No book, no cheese, be it good, be it bad,

But praise and dispraise it hath, and hath had.

John Heywood

A Ballad Of The Green Willow

ALL a green willow, willow;

All a green willow is my garland.

Alas! by what mean may I make ye to know

The unkindness for kindness that to me doth grow?

That one who most kind love on me should bestow,

Most unkind unkindness to me doth show?

For all the green willow is my garland.

To have love, and hold love, where love is so sped,

Oh, delicate food to the lover so fed!

From love won to love lost where lovers be led,

Oh desperate dolour! the lover is dead;

For all the green willow is my garland.

She said she did love me, and would love me still;

She sware above all men I had her good will;

She said and she sware she would my will fulfil--

The promise all good, the performance all ill;

For all the green willow is my garland.

Now woe worth the willow, and woe worth the wight

That windeth willow, willow garland to dight;

That dole dealt in alms is all amiss quite,

Where lovers are beggers for alms in sight;

No lover doth beg for this willow garland.

Of this willow garland the burden seem'th small,

But my break-neck burden I may it well call;

Like the sow of lead on my head it doth fall,

Break head, and break neck, back, bones, brain, heart, and all;

All parts pressed in pieces.

Too ill for her think I best things may be had;

Too good for me thinketh she things being most bad;

All I do present her that may make her glad;

All she doth present me that make me sad;

This equity have I with this willow garland.

Could I forget thee as thou canst forget me,

That were my sound salve, which cannot nor shall be;

Though thou like the soaring hawk every way flee,

I will be the turtle most steadfast still to thee;

And patiently wear this green willow garland.

All ye that have had love, and have my like wrong,

My like truth and patience plant still you among;

when feminine fancies for new love do long,

Old love cannot hold them, new love is so strong

For all.

John Heywood