Woodmanship Poem Rhyme Scheme

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My worthy Lord I pray you wonder not	A
To see your woodman shoot so oft awry	B
Nor that he stands amaz d like a sot	C
And lets the harmless deer unhurt go by	B
Or if he strike a doe which is but carren	D
Laugh not good Lord but favor such a fault	E
Take will in worth he would fain hit the barren	D
But though his heart be good his hap is naught	C
And therefore now I crave your Lordship's leave	F
To tell you plain what is the cause of this	G
First if it please your honor to perceive	F
What makes your woodman shoot so oft amiss	G
Believe me Lord the case is nothing strange	H
He shoots awry almost at every mark	I
His eyes have been so us d for to range	H
That now God knows they be both dim and dark	I
For proof he bears the note of folly now	D
Who shot sometimes to hit Philosophy	J
And ask you why forsooth I make avow	D
Because his wanton wits went all awry	B
Next that he shot to be a man of law	K
And spent some time with learn d Littleton	D
Yet in the end he prov d but a daw	K
For law was dark and he had quickly done	D
Then could he wish Fitzherbert such a brain	D
As Tully had to write the law by art	L
So that with pleasure or with little pain	D
He might perhaps have caught a truant's part	L
But all too late he most misliked the thing	M
Which most might help to guide his arrow straight	N
He wink d wrong and so let slip the string	M
Which cast him wide for all his quaint conceit	O
From thence he shot to catch a courtly grace	P
And thought even there to weild the world at will	Q
But out alas he much mistook the place	P
And shot awry at every rover still	Q
The blazing baits which draw the gazing eye	B
Unfeathered there his first affecti n	D
No wonder then although he shot awry	B
Wanting the feathers of discreti n	D
Yet more than them the marks of dignity	J
He much mistook and shot the wronger way	R
Thinking the purse of prodigality	J
Had been best mean to purchase such a prey	R
He thought the flattering face which fleereth still	Q
Had been full fraught with all fidelity	J
And that such words as courtiers use at will	Q
Could not have varied from the verity	J
But when his bonnet button d with gold	J
His comely cap beguarded all with gay	R
His bombast hose with linings manifold	J
His knit silk stocks and all his quaint array	R
Had picked his purse of all the Peter pence	S
Which might have paid for his promoti n	D
Then all too late he found that light expense	S
Had quite quenched out the court's devoti n	D
So that since then the taste of misery	J
Hath been always full bitter in his bit	J
And why forsooth because he shot awry	B
Mistaking still the marks which others hit	J
But now behold what marks the man doth find	J
He shoots to be a solider in his age	T
Mistrusting all the virtues of the mind	J
He trusts the power of his personage	T
As though long limbs led by a lusty heart	J
Might yet suffice to make him rich again	D
But Flushing frays have taught him such a part	J
That now he thinks the wars yeild no such gain	D
And sure I fear unless your lordship deign	D
To train him yet into some better trade	J
It will be long before he hit the vein	D
Whereby he may a richer man be made	J
He cannot climb as other catchers can	D
To lead a charge before himself be led	J
He cannot spoil the simple sakeless man	D
Which is content to feed him with his bread	J
He cannot pinch the painful soldier's pay	R
And shear him out his share in ragged sheets	U
He cannot stoop to take a greedy prey	R
Upon his fellows groveling in the streets	U
He cannot pull the spoil from such as pill	Q
And seem full angry at such foul offense	S
Although the gain of content his greedy will	Q
Under the cloak of contrary pretence	S
And nowadays the man that shoots not so	S
May shoot amiss even as your woodman doth	V
But then you marvel why I let them go	S
And never shoot but say farewell forsooth	V
Alas my Lord while I do muse hereon	D
And call to mind my youthful years misspent	J
They give me such a bone to gnaw upon	D
That all my senses are in silence pent	J
My mind is rapt in contemplati n	D
Wherein my dazzled eyes only behold	J
The black hour of my constellati n	D
Which fram d me so luckless on the mold	J
Yet therewithal I cannot but confess	S
That vain presumption makes my heart to swell	W
For thus I think not all the world I guess	S
Shoots bet than I nay some shoots not so well	W
In Aristotle somewhat did I learn	D
To guide my manners all by comeliness	S
And Tully taught me somewhat to discern	D
Between sweet speech and barbarous rudeness	S
Old Parkins Rastell and Dan Bracton's books	S
Did lend me somewhat of the lawless law	K
The crafty courtiers with their guileful looks	S
Must needs put some experience in my maw	K
Yet cannot these with many mast'ries moe	S
Make me shoot straight at any gainful prick	X
Where some that never handled such a bow	D
Can hit the white or touch it near the quick	X
Who can nor speak nor write in pleasant wise	S
Nor lead their life by Aristotle's rule	Y
Nor argue well on questions that arise	S
Nor plead a case more than my lord mayor's mule	Y
Yet can they hit the marks that I do miss	S
And win the mean which may the man maintain	D
Now when my mind doth mumble upon this	S
No wonder then although I pine for pain	D
And whiles mine eyes behold this mirror thus	S
The herd goeth by and farewell gentle does	S
So that your lordship quikly may discuss	S
What blinds mine eys so oft as I suppose	S
But since my Muse can to my Lord rehearse	S
What makes me miss and why I do not shoot	J
Let me imagine in this worthless verse	S
If right before me at my standing's foot	J
There stood a doe and I should strike her dead	J
And then she prove a carrion carcass too	J
What figure might I find within my head	J
To scuse the rage which ruled me so to do	J
Some might interpret with plain paraphrase	S
That lack of skill or fortune led the chance	S
But I must otherwise expound the case	S
I say Jehovah did this doe advance	S
And made her bold to stand before me so	S
Till I had thrust mine arrow to her heart	J
That by the sudden of her overthrow	S
I might endeavor to amend my part	J
And turn mine eyes that they no more behold	J
Such guileful marks as seem more than they be	J
And though they glister outwardly like gold	J
Are inwardly like brass as men may see	J
And when I see the milk hang in her teat	J
Methinks it saith old babe now learn to suck	Z
Who in thy youth coulst never learn the feat	J
To hit the whites which live with all good luck	Z
Thus have I told my Lord God grant in season	D
A tedious tale in rhyme but little reason	D
	-
Haud ictus sapio	R

George Gascoigne

Woodmanship Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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