Colyn Cloute Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABC DDDDDEEEDDDDFFEEEGGG AAAAACCDDDEEEEEEECAD EAAAAAEEEEBBEECCGGAH EECCCHHHHEE IEEEDDBBJJKKCCKKEEHH LLDDDDAAHHEEHHHHAAAA AAADDBBAAKKKAADDHHCC BBGGEEBBBBHHHCHEAAHH KKAAAAADDDBBBBCCMBFH HHHHHHHHBBBEEEEAAHHA AAAEFDDDEEEEEAAABJCC AAEEBBBBAAAAAAAAEEEE AAEEDDEEDDAADDAAA

Quis consurget mecum adversus malignantesA
aut quis stabit mecum adversus operantes iniquiB
tatem Nemo DomineC
-
W H A T can it auayleD
To dryue forth a snayleD
Or to make a sayleD
Of an herynges tayleD
To ryme or to rayleD
To wryte or to indyteE
Eyther for delyteE
Or elles for despyteE
Or bokes to compyleD
Of dyuers maner styleD
Vyce to reuyleD
And synne to exyleD
To teche or to precheF
As reason wyll recheF
Say this and say thatE
His hed is so fatE
He wotteth neuer whatE
Nor wherof he spekethG
He cryeth and he crekethG
He pryeth and he pekethG
He chydes and he chattersA
He prates and he pattersA
He clytters and he clattersA
He medles and he smattersA
He gloses and he flattersA
Or yf he speake playneC
Than he lacketh brayneC
He is but a foleD
Let hym go to scoleD
On a thre foted stoleD
That he may downe sytE
For he lacketh wytE
And yf that he hytE
The nayle on the hedeE
It standeth in no stedeE
The deuyll they say is dedeE
The deuell is dedeE
It may well so beC
Or els they wolde seA
Otherwyse and fleD
From worldly vanyteE
And foule couetousnesseA
And other wretchednesseA
Fyckell falsenesseA
VaryablenesseA
With vnstablenesseA
And if ye stande in doubteE
Who brought this ryme abouteE
My name is Colyn ClouteE
I purpose to shake outeE
All my connyng baggeB
Lyke a clerkely haggeB
For though my ryme be raggedE
Tattered and iaggedE
Rudely rayne beatenC
Rusty and moughte eatenC
If ye take well therwithG
It hath in it some pythG
For as farre as I can seA
It is wronge with eche degreH
For the temporalteE
Accuseth the spiritualteE
The spirituall agayneC
Dothe grudge and complayneC
Vpon the temporall menC
Thus eche of other blotherH
The tone agayng the totherH
Alas they make me shoderH
For in hoder moderH
The Churche is put in fauteE
The prelates ben so hautE
They say and loke so hy-
As though they wolde fly-
Aboue the sterry skyeI
Laye men say indedeE
How they take no hedeE
Theyr sely shepe to fedeE
But plucke away and pullD
The fleces of theyr wullD
Vnethes they leue a lockeB
Of wull amonges theyr flockeB
And as for theyr connyngeJ
A glommynge and a mummyngeJ
And make therof a iapeK
They gaspe and they gapeK
All to haue promocyonC
There is theyr deuocyonC
With money if it wyll hapK
To catche the forked capK
Forsothe they are so lewdE
To say so all beshrewdE
What trow ye they say moreH
Of the bysshoppes loreH
How in matters they be raweL
They lumber forth the laweL
To herken Jacke and GyllD
Whan they put vp a byllD
And iudge it as they wyllD
For other mennes skyllD
Expoundyng out theyr clausesA
And leue theyr owne causesA
In theyr prouynciall cureH
They make but lytell sureH
And meddels very lyghtE
In the Churches ryghtE
But ire and venireH
And solfa so alamyreH
That the premenyreH
Is lyke to be set a fyreH
In theyr iurisdictionsA
Through temporall afflictionsA
Men say they haue prescriptionsA
Agaynst spirituall contradictionsA
Accomptynge them as fyctionsA
And whyles the heedes do thisA
The remenaunt is amysA
Of the clergy allD
Bothe great and smallD
I wot neuer how they warkeB
But thus the people barkeB
And surely thus they sayA
Bysshoppes if they mayA
Small houses wolde kepeK
But slumbre forth and slepeK
And assay to crepeK
Within the noble wallesA
Of the kynges hallesA
To fat theyr bodyes fullD
Theyr soules lene and dullD
And haue full lytell careH
How euyll theyr shepe fareH
The temporalyte say playneC
How bysshoppes dysdayneC
Sermons for to makeB
Or suche laboure to takeB
And for to say trouthG
A great parte is for slouthG
But the greattest parteE
Is for they haue but small arteE
And ryght sklender connyngB
Within theyr heedes wonnyngB
But this reason they takeB
How they are able to makeB
With theyr golde and treasureH
Clerkes out of measureH
And yet that is a pleasureH
How be it some there beC
Almost two or threH
Of that dygnyteE
Full worshypfull clerkesA
As appereth by theyr werkesA
Lyke Aaron and UreH
The wolfe from the doreH
To werryn and to kepeK
From theyr goostly shepeK
And theyr spirituall lammesA
Sequestred from rammesA
And from the berded gotesA
With theyr heery cotesA
Set nought by golde ne grotesA
Theyr names if I durst tellD
But they are loth to mellD
And loth to hang the bellD
Aboute the cattes neckeB
For drede to haue a checkeB
They ar fayne to play deuz deckeB
They ar made for the beckeB
How be it they are good menC
Moche herted lyke an henC
Theyr lessons forgotten they haueM
That Becket them gaueB
Thomas manum mittit ad fortiaF
Spernit damna spernit opprobriaH
Nulla Thomam frangit injuriaH
But nowe euery spirituall fatherH
Men say they had ratherH
Spende moche of theyr shareH
Than to be combred with careH
Spende nay nay but spareH
For let se who that dareH
Sho the mockysshe mareH
They make her wynche and kekeB
But it is not worth a lekeB
Boldnesse is to sekeB
The Churche for to defendE
Take me as I intendeE
For lothe I am to offendeE
In this that I haue pendeE
I tell you as men sayA
Amende whan ye mayA
For usque ad montem SareH
Men say ye can not appareH
For some say ye hunte in parkesA
And hauke on hobby larkesA
And other wanton warkesA
Whan the nyght darkesA
What hath lay men to doE
The gray gose for to shoF
Lyke houndes of hellD
They crye and they yellD
Howe that ye sellD
The grace of the Holy GostE
Thus they make theyr bostE
Through owte euery costE
Howe some of you do eateE
In Lenton season fleshe meteE
Fesauntes partryche and cranesA
Men call you therfore prophanesA
Ye pycke no shrympes nor pranesA
Saltfysshe stocfysshe nor heryngB
It is not for your weryngeJ
Nor in holy Lenton seasonC
Ye wyll netheyr benes ne peasonC
But ye loke to be let loseA
To a pygge or to a goseA
Your gorge not endewedE
Without a capon stewedE
Or a stewed cockeB
To knowe whate ys a clockeB
Vnder her surfled smockeB
And her wanton wodicockeB
And how whan ye gyue ordersA
In your prouinciall bordersA
As at SitientesA
Some are insufficientesA
Some parum sapientesA
Some nihil intelligentesA
Some valde negligentesA
Some nullum sensum habentesA
But bestiall and vntaughtE
But whan thei haue ones caughtE
Dominus vobiscum by the hedeE
Than renne they in euery stedeE
God wot with dronken nollesA
Yet take they cure of soulesA
And woteth neuer what thei redeE
Paternoster Ave nor CredeE
Construe not worth a whystleD
Nether Gospell nor PystleD
Theyr mattyns madly saydeE
Nothynge deuoutly praydeE
Theyr lernynge is so smallD
Theyr prymes and houres fallD
And lepe out of theyr lyppesA
Lyke sawdust or drye chyppesA
I speke not nowe of allD
But the moost parte in generallD
Of suche vagabundusA
Speketh totus mundusA
Howe some synge L tabundusA

John Skelton



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