Monday, April 10, 2006

Gowere strete and Paula Abdul

Maitre Geofroi doth blogge:

Straighte-uppe, nowe telle me: what hastow ayeinst Paula Abdul, o Mayster Gowere, that she scholde be so accostede on thyn strete?
Firste. I wishe to poynt out thatte atte least ich have a strete with mine nomen on it in meny large cities in thys worlde. Mine strete in London be neare the Brityssh Museum and the universite colege and doth have a bookshope and othere fyne residentes on it. Eek I hav a walk in Whitechappele in Londone and meny othere places named for me. Et tu, Chaucer? Where be youre lytel stretes?

Seconde. I be abbashen to saye that ich have so meny stretes thatte it be dificile for me to knowe them alle, moche less to kepe them safe.

Thirde. I knowe note Lady Paula Abdul and wishe for al and sondrie who rede mine blogge to knowe thatte I have no quarrel with her and I offere, if her assaultere be in Londone or Angliae, to apele him of this trespas and assaute againste here.

A guest-bloggere!

Take thatte, Chaucere! I have a guest-bloggere nowe and ich be the firsste to have swich a person write in mine blogge, afore even Maistre Geofroi . Her nomen be Margot and she hath writen to me seekinge to clarifye som wordes from Maitre Villon to Maistre Geofroi, the whiche I will not deny as she eek doth gyve translationes of the Frenche of Maitre Villon which be an aide to mine gentil rederscipe.

She telles me that she eek has sought that Maitre Geoffroi wolde poste these wrytinges, but it semes he cherlissheley hath note yet done it.

And speking of Maistre Gefroi, who claimed that mine own French poetry doth sucke, I aske of him wherefore he hath not writen any French poetrie of his owne. And why eek he has not yet answerede Margote or postede here wordes for his rederschipe as it semes only righte that Maitre Villon and Margot receyve a courteyouse reply.

Here followes the translation of Margot and here wordes and some of her comentynge.
Maitre Villon seyth that Jt is cume to myne attention that J owe to be sorry some words the which I sayde the whiles an even that one passyd at the taverne. (J, Margot, wisse not this signe *)

It was not myne intentto maken a reference to yowre frendschipe with the daiseye-poet the while J named sume arses. (J ne wisse this signe ** neyther.)

Ytt was myne intent only to mocken at the dirty Angleish biere. Margot the Great (why seyth he thys? J am Fat Margot, all the world calleth me Fat, for that J am a womman of grandeur and J am fierce of it), my soft, my lovely, my verray dear frende(maitre Villon asketh hymselfe whatte he doth withouten me and J aske myselfe why that he sayeth thes swetenesses, what taske doth he asken me and nowe this signe J wisse nat) d'ailleurs, Margot explayneth to me that yt ys not ryght to mocken the drynke of the hoste ne to showen opynioun of the dirty custumes of the Angleish who habben (she seyth, J Villon wisse nat how sche wisseth yt, ne J wille nat wissen yt) maitres en escholes who doth thynges with the scolaires, also yt ys not the faute of the litle ones who aren nourisshed in this foul aire. (J wisse thys for that J hadde a frende in Paris, a maitre at the Sorbonne who was angleishman and he tolde me of his souffrances en eschole, pauvre gosse, he pleased hym muche with my grands tetons.)

Maitre Villon seith that he wished not to don yow evil, ne yow ne yowre minion poete (J leve that mignon wisheth to seyn another thyng in angleish, dyd not the bisaieul of yowre kynge haven a mignon namyd Pierre?) and J hope that the whiles again one drinketh together that yow bryng there yowre Philippa, the recognizance of which Margot wisheth much to make. (Agayne this signe, ****, but J doe not so muche wishe to seen Madame Philippa, she ys a ladye and J am nat)

When to our frende Jehan Goire, he yeveth me a miroir tolernen me the custumes of good people; though that J am too much debauched for repent, it is noble in him to worry himself for my soule and J can not to hear evil agaynst him.(*****)

*Thys ys to sayen, Margot menaces me the balls if J offer yow not my regrets. J leve that she showed to yowre stable boys the which yow angleish namen her "belle chose" (verrayment, yow namen le sadinet "pretty thyng"?). How much J love yowre usage of owre luvely tongue. Besides, it seemeth that they finden it luvely. Now J, Margot, leve J comprehende these signes *. Maitre Villon useth them for to seyen thynges he willeth not seyn apertly. Jt semeth nat polite to namen balls in a message of regret. J seye not nothing here of my sadinet and the boyes of the estable. But Maitre Villon heareth about this anon.
**Let him feel shame who thynketh shame of it, eh?
***J wolde goon in pilgrimage to Nice, where J hear that there be a devil named Grimalkin or somme suche, who tempteth Saint Nicolas with his gamen of dice and of cartes and of the wheel of Fortune. And yt is not so much cold down there in winter. Oh la la. Maitre Villon, yow finde trouble ynow in Paris, withoute that yow go to Nice, and me, Margot, doe J not maintaine yow warm in the winter?
****Well, it may perhaps be better to bringen her sister, she hath more in ordinary with Margot. Mais non, la dame Katherine is also a ladye, and intelligent to finden a noble man who maketh hire party of his house. Bettre a noble thanne a poet, hein, maitre Villon?
*****At end, he findeth me plaisant and he has histories of his youth that make me curl the hair. Old saint, yonge devile. Maitre Villon is poet, he pleyeth with his words. One seyth on ordinary, Jonge seint, olde devile.

J hope that Maitre Villon may be plesed that J traduce his wordes here. He wisseth nat that J can scriben though that he wisseth that J can speken Angleish. He wisseth only "bigot" and "broulard" and somme othere wordes that he oweth not to seyn biforen gentil men.
And thatte be the ende of Margot's gueste-bloggeposte.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

A mater of clarifyenge

I see here from youre commentynge that my last blogge-poste hað caused some confusion and so I will atempte to maken materes ryghte.

Firsst, Maistre Geofroi hað acused me foully, claimyng that my "Le Miroir de L'homme" doth sucke, aftere viewyng my poste that I rede the Frenche poorly.
Lette me note here thatte I offere humble apologies to my gentil redershipe for using swich a lewede worde.
It eek be mine desire to point out in no uncertayn termes that I mene I find it a travaille to rede the Frensh of Paris, whiche be a style I do not ofte se or here in Kent and London. And mon ami Francois Villon is most certaynely from Paris! Ande my French poetrie doth not sucke.

Seconde, a Maistre "Slangwhanger", whose nomen doth give me pause, hath acused me vilayneusely that I be an egotiste and hath desdeyned mine tales of the KYNGES court, afore I have evene written them! Selde have I encontred swich charges and ich knowe not howe to answere hem, save to compose mine observationes sadly and carefully so thatte I may note offend eny sensitivites.

Yette, I do see that Maistre Slangwhanger be acustomed to bolde and stronge wordes and does oft make much stevene aboute gouvernance and law on his owne payge of blogge. If thys be his nature, it giveth no teene, thogh the appele agaynst me of egotism doth smarte a bit.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

So muche to do, so lytel time

My fair readeres, nowe Þat ich be retorned from the KYNGES court, I know not what to do firste. This smale blogge already hað waxed such Þat I oft fynde it aldermost in my thottes. For I cannot abyde the many smale and grosse assautes upon mine name that I receyve each daye from my tormentores, who do seme egged on by Maistre Geofroi Chaucere. And ywis I have many observationes Þatte I wisshe to share. And eek...there be so manye thinges.

So Þatte I may adress these many thynges in some order, and not forget Þem, I do liste them here, in a kynde of ordere. For those that be firsst lie the most heavy on my heved. To wit:

  • ich muste devyse a stonge defense against the abhomynable appele that maistre Geoffroy hath mayde, the whiche hað made me yvele apayed and putte me off my chees entyrelye.
  • I am preparing nowe a counter-apele, for there be another side to that storye that maitre Gefroi doð nat wante yow to here. So, take thatte, Chaucere!
  • I muste make an apologie to my gentil readeres for mine foule oathe last week. Trewely I be not prone to swich oathes. But I arguwe there be extenuatinge circumstances in thysse case.
  • I have muche to telle aboute my week-ende with the KYNGE and his compaigneye and the jangles atte his courte.
  • I am composynge a newe moral tale for the edificacione of my gentil rederesshipe
  • I wisshe to adress the commentynge of my frende Francois Villon, bothe here and eleswhere and to confes that I rede the Frenche tongue like Chaucere pledes against me, which is to saye poorly.
Furthermore, I am surfing much on this worlde-wide webbe, tho to me it seme more like I am walwynge from payge to payge, oft withouten eny certaintie thatte the nexte be wyse or a waste. But alredy I have lerned much to bettere the governaunce of mine estate.

My lorde KYNGE RICHARDE doth poste

My fayre reeders, I be overjoyed to see my deare KYNGE RICHARD hað posted a comment on my lytel site of blogge. Ich be humbled but eek fearfulle thatte he be agilt by the smale mater of my dedicacioun of a werke to my lorde Henrye.

Yet I wiste he hað been kynde unto me afore nowe and ich did see hym in London thys week-ende. And I ween ich even made him jolyf with a lytel jape thatte I thogt of that did make the whole of his companye laughen, to wit:
Wiste not, wante not
Yt did make my week-ende to see my lorde the KYNGE laugh atte my smale jape.