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Tales.
But on ech leg a wepon is,
Ypersent and full starke I wys;
Doth he with hem at pertelote play?
In sooth theres werk inough for tway.
Qd. Isaac, Certes by Sainct Poule,
Myne lief thou art a simple soule;
Foules fro the egle to the wren
Bin harness'd othergise than men:
For the males engins of delite
Ferre in theyr entrails are empight;
Els, par mischaunce, theyr merriment
Emong the breers mought sore be shent.
Thus woxen hote, they much avaunce
Love of venereal jouisaunce;
And in one month, the trouth to sayne,
Swink mo than manhode in yeres twayne.
O Benedicite! qd. she,
If kepyng hote so kindlych be,
Hic in thyne boweles truss thyne gere,
And eke the skrippe that daungleth here.
Ne dame, he answerd, mote that bene;
For as I hope to be a dene,
Thilke Falstaffe-bellie rownd and big,
Was built for corny ale and pig;
Ne in it is a chink for these,
Ne for a wheat-straw and tway pease.
Pardie, qd. She, syth theres nat room,
Swete Nykin! chase hem in myne woom.
Ypersent and full starke I wys;
Doth he with hem at pertelote play?
In sooth theres werk inough for tway.
Qd. Isaac, Certes by Sainct Poule,
Myne lief thou art a simple soule;
Foules fro the egle to the wren
Bin harness'd othergise than men:
For the males engins of delite
Ferre in theyr entrails are empight;
Els, par mischaunce, theyr merriment
Emong the breers mought sore be shent.
Thus woxen hote, they much avaunce
Love of venereal jouisaunce;
And in one month, the trouth to sayne,
Swink mo than manhode in yeres twayne.
O Benedicite! qd. she,
If kepyng hote so kindlych be,
Hic in thyne boweles truss thyne gere,
And eke the skrippe that daungleth here.
Ne dame, he answerd, mote that bene;
For as I hope to be a dene,
Thilke Falstaffe-bellie rownd and big,
Was built for corny ale and pig;
Ne in it is a chink for these,
Ne for a wheat-straw and tway pease.
Pardie, qd. She, syth theres nat room,
Swete Nykin! chase hem in myne woom.
