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THE PILGRIMS SEA VOYAGE |
5 |
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Anone the mastyr commaundeth fast To hys shyp-men in alle the hast, To dresse hem sone about the mast,
Theyr takelyng to make. With " howe ! hissa ! " then they cry, " What, howe, mate ! thow stondyst to ny, Thy felow may nat hale the by ; "
Thus they begyn to crake.
A boy or tweyn anone up styen,
And ouerthwart the sayle-yerde lyen;—
" Y how ! taylia ! " the remenaunt cryen,
And pulle with alle theyr myght. " Bestowe the boote, bote-swayne, anon, That our pylgryms may pley theron ; For som ar lyle to cowgh and grone
Or hit be full mydnyght.
" Hale the bowelyne ! now, vere the shete !— Cooke, make redy anoon our mete, Our pylgryms haue no lust to ete,
I pray god yeue hem rest!" " Go to the helm ! what, howe ! no nere ? Steward, felow ! A pot of bere ! " " Ye shalle haue, sir, with good chere,
Anon alle of the best."
" Y howe ! trussa ! hale in the brayles ! Thou halyst nat, be god, thow fayles ! O se howe welle owre good shyp sayles !"
And thus they say among. "Hale in the wartake ! " "hit shal be done." " Steward ! couer the boorde anone, And set,bred and salt therone,
And tary nat to long."
Then cometh oone and seyth, " be mery ;
Ye shall haue a storme or a pery."
" Holde thow thy pese! thow canst no whery
Thow medlyst wondyr sore." Thys mene whyle the pylgryms ly, And haue theyr bowlys fast theym by, And cry aftyr hote maluesy,
"Thow helpe for to restore." |
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