The prologue

The prudent problems/& the noble werkes 
Of the gentyll poetes in olde antyquyte 
Unto this day hath made famous clerkes 
For the poetes wrote nothynge in vanyte 
But grounded them on good moralyte 
Encensynge out the fayre dulcet fume 
Our langage rude to exyle and consume 
The ryght eloquent poete and monke of bery 
Made many fayre bookes/as it is probable 
From ydle derkenes/to lyght our emyspery 
Whose vertuous pastyme/was moche cōmendable 
Presentynge his bookes/gretely prouffytable 
To your worthy predecessour the .v. kynge Henry 
Whiche regystred is in the courte of memory 
Amyddes the medowe of flora the quene 
Of the goddes elycon/is the sprynge or well 
And by it groweth/a fayre laurell grene 
Of whiche the poetes do ofte wryte and tell 
Besyde this olyue/I dyde neuer dwell 
To tast the water whiche is aromatyke 
For to cause me wryte with lusty rethoryke 
Wherfore good souerayne/I beseche your hyghnes 
To pardon me whiche do rudely endyte 
As in this arte hauynge small intres 
But for to lerne is all myn appetyte 
In folowynge the monke whiche dyde nobly wryte 
Besechynge your hyghnes and grace debonayre 
For to accepte this rude and lytell quayre 
Explicit prologus.

O God alone in heuen werynge crowne 
In whose inspecte is euery regall se 
Both to enhaūce & for to cast adowne 
Suche is y&supere; power of th&ybar; hygh magiste 
Neyther hardynes treasour nor dygnyte 
May withstande thy strength whiche is ī euery place 
So grete and myghty is thy dyuyne grace 
Two tytles in one thou dydest well vnyfye 
Whan the rede rose toke the whyte in maryage 
Reygnynge togyder ryght hygh and noblye 
From whose vnyd tytyls and worthy lygnage 
Descended is by ryght excellent courage 
Kynge Henry the .viii. for to reygne doutles 
Unyuersall his fame honour and larges 
Whiche hathe spousyd a fayre floure of vertue 
Descended of kynges dame kwtheryn of Spayne 
Descended of Kynges dame Kathelyn of Spayne 
By grace and prudens the peace to attayne 
Wherfore Englonde thou nedes not complayne 
Syth thou hast crowned openly in syght 
This kynge and quene by good true loue and ryght 
What sholde I shewe by perambulacyon 
All this grete tryumphe of whiche reporte 
Is made aboute nowe in euery nacyon 
Unto all this realme to be Ioy and comforte 
Wherfore you lordes I humby you exhorte 
Spyrytuall and temporall with the comyns vnyfyde 
To gyue god the prayse whiche dothe grace prouyde 
Englonde be gladde/the dewe of grace is spred 
The dewe of Ioy/the dewe holsome and soote 
Dystylled is nowe from the rose so red 
And of the whyte so spryngynge from the roote 
After our trouble to be refute and boote 
This ryall tree was planted as I knowe 
By god aboue the rancour to downe throwe 
Who is the floure that dothe this grace dystyll 
But onely Henry the .viii. kynge of his name 
With golden droppes all Englonde to fulfyll 
To shewe his larges his honour and his fame 
His dedes therto exemplefye the same 
Wherfore nowe Englonde with hole deuocyon 
For this yonge kynge make dayly orayson 
Our late souerayne his fader excellent 
I knowe ryght well some holde oppynyon 
That to auaryce he had entendement 
Gadrynge grete rychesse of this his regyon 
But they lytell knowe by theyr small reason 
For what hye entente he gadered doutles 
Unto his grace suche innumerable ryches 
For I thinke well and god had sente him lyfe 
As they haue meruaylled moche of this gadrynge 
So it to them showe haue best affyrmatyfe 
To haue had grete wonder of his spendynge 
It may fortune he thought to haue mouynge 
Of mortall warre our fayth to stablysshe 
Agaynst the turkes theyr power to mynysshe 
But syth that dethe by his course naturall 
Hathe hym arested/and wolde not delay 
Lyke wyse as he was so be we mortall 
How/where/or whan I cam nothynge say 
Therfore to god aboue let vs all pray 
For to graunt hym mercy whiche was our kynge 
Bryngynge his soule to Ioy euerlastinge 
A fayre Englonde mystruste the ryght nought 
Regarde ryght well/his sonnes Iustyce 
Se how that they whyche inuencyons sought 
Delytynge them in the synne of auaryce 
To oppresse the comyns by grete preiudyce 
Dothe he not punysshe them accordynge to lawe 
Suche newe promocyons to dampne and withdrawe 
Fy on the saturne with thy mysty fume 
Replete with fraude treason and wyckednes 
To shewe thy beames thou darest not presume 
So cursed thou arte withouten stablenes 
Deuoyde of grace fulfylled with doblenes 
Thy power to Englonde was neuer amyable 
But alwayes euyll vntrue and varyable 
Now gentyll Iupyter the lodesterre of lyght 
Thy stedfast beames so fayre and so clere 
Cast now abrede that we may haue a syght 
To glad