Off to see MY LORDE THE KYNGGE

Dere reders, ich am preparinge to see MY LORDE THE KYNGGE to ask his merci and make amends for the sliht done to hym in mine name. Yf yow wiste nat how thys came to be, yow may rede abouten it here in my blogge-payge.

Thys menes I shal sone lef mine estate in Kent and wende to the courte of MY LORDE THE KYNGE, the whiche shalle kepe me fra my blogge-page for severalle dayes. Certes ich be somwhat fereful of MY LORDE THE KYNGE's wroth.

Yet, it comfortes me thatte I shalle not be in Kente whilen Mastre Chaucere etablisshes his newe householde here. For trewli ich do notte want to here hym seken pitye for how tired he be, or howe Lowys doth compleine, or thatte he nedes mine carte oness agein to haulen hys furnishynges sith he is too chepe to hire more churles. Belef me, ich have herde itt alle beforn. Gyf them youre free booze that yow receyve of the KYNGE, Mastre Chaucere! Or paye them and haf it be ydone with.

In the mene-time Grosse Margot may welle poste the thottes of Maistre Villon and herselve yn thys virtualle espace, to giv mine gentil rederes a litel companie whil ich am awaye.

--- JG

gueste-bloggere part deux

Indede, frende Mastre Villon and hys translatrix haf writteyn to me fressli with newe comentary uppon thys place ycleped Qalamasot. O that ich were there to here the wordes of Terry le Jaune myselve and to shew him how he ys so greevous wronge.

Maistre Villon, sire, ich seye thank yow agein for youre courteseye.

Salut, maitre Goire.  Enfin je suis recoupere d'ung voyage a Qualamasot,
ou j'assista a un fete dont je n'ai jamais vu la similitude.  Maitre
Chaussier n'y etois pas, donc je passa mon temps avec des compatriots a
moi, buvant de bon vin et non pas de biere, bien que presque tous ceux qui
etoient la preferoient la biere.  Bon, ce que je voulois dire, il y etoit
un homme qui s'appelle Thierri li Jaunes, a peu pres (on me disa qu'il
etois Gaulois, c'est un nom barbare), qui parla un peu de vos et vos
grands oeuvres, la Chronica tripartita (que vos estes erudit, tout ce
latin, moi j'etois heureux de laisser tout cela) et la Confessio amantis.
Bien que je ne sache tres bien vostre langue (et il ne parla point ni bon
francois ni latin), il me sembla que Thierri li Jaunes vos critiqua pour
ce que vos corrigeois des references au roi d'angleterre quand Henri
devena rois, pour remouver des indications flatteuses au pauvre Richard et
les remplacer par des flatteries au roi Henri.  Moi je trouve cela bien
pratique, tres sage en vos, et c'est pour cela que vos estes venu a un tel
grand age, hein, vos savez comment menager vos affaires vis-a-vis des
rois, qui sont bien inconstants.  Bon, je buva quelques verres a vos et a
vos escriptures, et au seule anglois de notre ere qui escrit en la belle
langue de france, et vos me manqua a Qualamazot.


Maitre Villon command me to transplant word for word this time now, and so
J do if J can.  He sayth that in fine he recovereth himself from a trip to
Qualamozot where he goeth to a feast of which he never sees the similar.
Maitre Chaussier is not there, so Maitre Villon passeth his thyme with his
countreymen in drinking good wine and not biere and J Margot can tellen
yow how much that he drank, la la, d'ailleurs, moste who weren there
preferen biere and J Margo wisse that maitre Villon drinketh biere
volunteers when wine lakketh.  What maitre Villon wisheth to say is that a
man that calleth himself Terry the Yellow or somme soche was in
Qualamazot, a Gaulois comme Perceval, and that he speaketh somme of yow
and yowre greete workes, the Chronica tripartita and the Confessioun
Amans, and he saith that you art erudit to endite in latin for that he was
happy to stop that.  He saith that well he wisseth nat well yowre tongue
and that Terry the Yellow speaketh not good franchois ne latin but that it
seemeth Terry yow critiqueth for that you corrigeth mentiouns to the king
of angleland after that Henri is king, so that yow flatter nat Richard but
flatter instead Henri.  Maitre Villon findeth yowr actes sage as doe J
Margot and he saieth that for that yow are commen to a grand age, yow
wisse how manage your affairs in the face of kings who are unconstant and
so J wisse aren othere men of estate lesse than kinges and one must to be
sage to be live.  Maitre Villon drinketh somme glasses to yow and to your
gospels and to the soule anglish of our thyme who scribes in the lovely
tongue of france and that he wisheth you at Qualamasos.  J Margot assure
yow he drinketh to yow and to enditeurs and to kinges and to all who
paeith for wine.

In defensione meo pars primus

And so I beginne my conter-apele to Maistre Chaucere.

ITEM. Thou hast removede mencioun of me from the secounde drafte of thyn confessio amantis. WTF!?! & hereof I appeale thee John Gowere that thou art a wanker.

1. Thys be a dissevable accusynge, as al and sondrie wiste that thysse seconde drafte was publysschid mistakenley, when yonge Lowys dide 'borowe' mine manuscripte aftir youre laste visite to mine home in Kent and putten it on the internet for al his frendes. As yow wel knowe I had not yit finissed the drafte and it semed youre Lowys did maken sum chaunges to it, swich as removing my dedicacion to MY LORDE KYNGE RICARDE, that have putte me in a ryht pickel.

And, yf I recalle correct, yow have not yet made an apologie for thys sory matir to this daye.

--- JG

Cherlisshe Chaucere

Mayster Gower,

Thou mayst trye stuffynge this URL waye uppe thy browsere:
http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/711/2571/1600/artikle1.jpg

Must thou vent thy spleen at me, Maistre Chaucere? Or didst thatte litel artikle do you some peine? Yt verrilay is not suficient thatte yow muste dayly assail me with barbes and sharp wordes, but now thou must eek lasshe out with swich unsubtil references to mine, welle, ich nede not spell yt out for mine gentil reders.

Mayhap thys Thomas of Walsingham hath made an important discoverie that sholde merit greatre attention. He doth seem a careful wight and lerned. I have sent worde askinge him to visit mine litel estate sholde he evere visit Kent or even London in futur.

The which doth reminde me: canst thou not move sum othere place, Chaucere? Mustow move thine householde to Kent? Surely yonge Lowys wolde prefer Londone.

But, if yow must comen here, yow canst tell Lowys there ys much wereke to doon in mine hoseholde, and yf he desirs to save uppe sovereignes for an Xx-boxe (or whatevre contrivaunce the kiddes are al abouten these dayes) ich wil have much haye to mowe latir this somer.

-- JG

A moste excelente swevene

Gwan ysaide recyentlye...

...Ich hadde a prophetik swevene (and as eny cokke wot, daun Catoun speketh of the veritee of swevenes). In this swevene, Ich saw there shall be a scrivener hote daun Shakespeare, of grete renoun, and thisse Shakespeare shall deme Gowere the bettre poete, as witnesseth Shakespeare his play Pericles. Whatte seyestow to that, daun Chaucere?

Indede I repete for yow Maistre Gefroi, what seyestow to thatte? Yow cannst not touch thys.

-- JG

Helpe! RSS?

Dere rederes,

I be stille awhaped by RSS and it doth trouble mine herte thatte ich cannot yet mete youre requests to add it to mine blogge-page. Indede I have wimped outen of lerning RSS and use thatte moste facil site Bloglines to reden alle the blogges thatte I like as it doth not require of me eny RSS wizardrie.

Ich humbly begge of yow to aide me in thys matere if eny of yow have the abilitie. Or sholde I aske yonge Lowys? Yonge Maister Lowys, I herilty agre with yow that astrolabes suck. I am doun with that.

--- JG "the OG" (meny japes this daye!!)

Apologie for myn absence

Dere gentil rederes, meny apologies for mine long absence. Now that springe be here, I am laboring daye and nicht to assure mine feldes are plaunted welle and thatte alle mine landes be redied against the growing seson. For unlike some wasteres of tyme and drinke, ich do notte get free booze from my lord THE KYNGE nor eny other free comestibles. So the gouvernance of mine estate be a matere of som importaunce, as withouten good stewardeschipe myn householde wolde be imperilled.

For sooth, whyle som of yow do praunce aboute tellinge youre litel tales and such like, ich am engaged in swich werke that I must sette aside mine poetrie and composyng for a short tyme. And as there be no honte in swich honeste werk it materes to me litel thatte ich am not wryting atte presente. Certes, somtimes I even enconter newe litel idees and tropes for mine poetrie and wryting as I werke.

Which reminds me I sawe a giaunte ratte this matin and it did set me to thotte about Mastre Chaucere. I am stille werking on my conter-apele! That wille gif me gret satisfation when it be done.

--- J "Growere" (my litel jape agein!)