If it befallin that thou take a wife,
They wollin falfly say in ther entent,
Thou art likely evir to lyve in ftrife,
Voide of al reft, without aledgèment,
Wivis ben maiftris, this is ther judgement;
Suffrin al ther fpeche, and truft right wel this,
A wickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
If thou be faire and exce'llent of beaute,
Yet wol they say that thou art amourous,
If thou be foule and uglie on to fe,
They wol affirme that thou art vicious,
The peple' of langage is so dispitous;
Suffre' al ther speche, and truftith right wel this,
A wickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
If fo be that of holie parfiteneffe
Thou haft vowid to live in chastite,
Than wollin folke of thy perfone expresse
Thou art impotent t'engendre' in thy degre,
And thus wher thou be chaste or deflavie;
Suffre 'hem speke, and trustith right wel this,
A wickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
If thou be fattè othir corpulent,
Than woll thei fay thou art a grete gloton,
A devourir, or ellis vinolent,
Yf thou be lene or megre of fashion,
Cal the a nygarde in ther opinion;
Suffre them speke, and trustith right wel this,
Awickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
If thou be richè, fome wol yeve the laude,
And fay it cometh of prudent govirnaunce,
And fome wol fain that it comith of fraude,
Othir by fleight or falfè chevifaunce;
To fain the worst folke have fo gret plefaunce;
What! fuffre 'hem say, and trust right wel this,
Awickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
If thou be fadde or fobre' of countinaunce,
Men wollin fayn thou thinkift some trefon,
And if that thou be gladde of daliaunce,
Men wollin deme it defolucion,
And callin faire fpeche adulacion;
Yet let him fpeke, and truslith right wel this,
A wickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
Who that is holy by perfeccion
Men of malice wol clip him Ypocrite,
And who is mery' of clene entencion
Men fain in riot he doth hym delite,
Some mourne in black, fome lovin clothis white;
Suffre men fpeke, and trustith right wel this,
A rickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
Honeft araie men deme it pompe and pride,
And who goeth pore men cal him a wastir,
And who goeth ftil men marke him on the fyde,
Seine that he is a fpie or agilir,
Who waftith not men fain he hath trefoure;
Wherof conclude and truftith right wel this,
Awickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
Who spekith moche men clepith him prudent,
Who that debateth men fain that he' is hardie,
And who faith litil with grete fentèment
Some folke yet wollin wite him of folie,
Trouth is put downe, and up goth flattiry;
And who lift plainly knowe the cause of this,
A wickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
For though a man ywere as pacient
As was David throw his humilitè,
Or with Salo'mon in wisdome as prudent,
Or in knighthode egale with Jofue,
Or manly proved as Judas Machabe,
Yet for al that ytrustith right wel this
Awickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
And though a man yhad the grete proweffe
Of worthy Hector, Troy'is champioun,
The love of Froylus or the kindnesse,
Or of Cæfar the famous high renoun,
With al Alexaundir's dominacioun,
Yet for al that ytruftith right wel this,
A zvickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
Or thoughe a man of highe or lowe degre
Of Tullius had the fugrid eloquence,
Or of Seneca the moralite,
Or of Caton the forfight and providence,
Conqueft of Charles, Artures magnificence,
Yet for al that ytruftith right wel this,
A zvickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
Touchyng women, the parfit innocence
Thoughe that they hade of Hester the nobleffe,
Or of Grifilde the humble pacience,
Or of Judith the previd stabilneffe,
Or Polyxene's virginal clenneffe,
Yet dare I feine, and truftith right wel this,
Same wickid tonge rol deme of them amis.
The wifely trouthè of Penelope
Though they it had in ther poffeffion,
Helene's beautie, the kindneffe of Medee,
The love unfained of Martia Caton,
Or Alcefte's moft trewe affeccion,
Yet dare I fain, and truftith right wel this,
Awickid tonge wol alway deme amis.
Than fevith it that no man maye efchewe
The fwerde of tonges, but it wil kerve and bite,
Ful harde it is a man for to remewe,
Out of ther daungir him for to acquite;
Wo to the tongis that 'hem felfe delite
To hinder or felaunder, and set their study' in this,
And ther plesaunce to deme alwaye amis.
Mofte noble princis, cherishers of vertue,
Remembrith you of high difcrecion,
The first vertue mofte plefing to Jefu
(By the writing and fentence of Caton)
Is a gode tonge in his opinion,
Chaftice the reverse, of wisdome do this,
Voideth your heringe from al that deme amis. 133
Scogan unto the lordes and gentilmen of the kinge's boufe.
Here followeth a moral ballad to the prince, to the D. of
Clarence, the D. of Bedford, the D. of Glocefter, the king's
Jon, by Henry Scogan, at a fupper among the merchants
in the vintry at London, in the house of Lewis John.
My noble fonnes and eke my lordis dere!
I, your fathir callid unworthilie,
Sende unto you this litil tretise here,
Writtin with mine owne hand full rudilie;
Although it be that I not reverentlie
Have written to your eftatis, I you praie
Myne unconnyng takith benignèlie
For Godd'is fake, and herkin what I saie.
I complain fore when I remembre me
The fodain age that is upon me fall,
But more complain my mifpent juventute,
The whiche is impoffible' ayen to call,
But certainly the moste complaint of all
Is to thinkin that I have be so nice
That I'ne wouldin vertues to me call
In all my youth, but vices aie cherice;
Of whiche I afkè mercie of the, Lorde,
That art almightie God in majeftie,
Befekyng to make so evin accorde
Betwixt the and my foule that vanitie,
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