Английская поэзия XIV–XX веков в современных русских переводах (билингва)

Aye, beshrew you, by my fay,
These wanton clerks be nice alway,
Avaunt, avaunt, my popagay!
“What, will ye do nothing but play?”
Tilly vally straw, let be I say!
Gup, Christian Clout, gup, Jack of the Vale!
With Mannerly Margery milk and Ale.

“By God, ye be a pretty pode,

And I love you an whole cartload”.
Straw, James Foder, ye play the fode,
I am no hackney for your rod:
Go watch a bull, your back is broad!
Gup, Christian Clout, gup, Jack of the Vale!
With Mannerly Margery milk and ale.

Ywis ye deal uncourteously;

What, would ye frumple me? now fie!
What, and ye shall not be my pigsny?”
By Christ, ye shall not, no hardily:
I will not be japed bodily!
Gup, Christian Clout, gup, Jack of the Vale!
With Mannerly Margery milk and ale.

“Walk forth your way, ye cost me naught;

Now have I found that I have sought:
The best cheap flesh that ever I bought”.
Yet, for his love that hath all wrought,
Wed me, or else I die for thought.
Gup, Christian Clout, your breath is stale!
With Mannerly Margery milk and ale!
Gup, Christian Clout, gup, Jack of the Vale!
With Mannerly Margery milk and ale.

* * *

Womanhood, wanton, ye want:
Your meddling, mistress, is mannerless;
Plenty of ill, of goodness scant,
Ye rail at riot, reckless:
To praise your port it is needless;
For all your draff yet and your dregs,
As well borne as ye full oft time begs.

Why so coy and full of scorn?

Mine horse is sold, I ween, you say;
My new furrèd gown, when it is worn…
Put up your purse, ye shall not pay!
By crede, I trust to see the day,
As proud a pea-hen as ye spread,
Of me and other ye may have need!

Though angelic be your smiling,

Yet is your tongue an adder’s tail,
Full like a scorpion stinging
All those by whom ye have avail.
Good mistress Anne, there ye do shail:
What prate ye, pretty pigesnye?
I trust to ’quite you ere I die!

Your key is meet for every lock,

Your key is common and hangeth out;
Your key is ready, we need not knock,
Nor stand long wresting there about;
Of your door-gate ye have no doubt:
But one thing is, that ye be lewd:
Hold your tongue now, all beshrewd!

To mistress Anne, that farly sweet,

That wones at The Key in Thames Street.

Upon a Dead Man’s Head

That was sent to him from an honorable gentlewoman for a token, Skelton, Laureate, devised this ghostly meditation in English covenable, in sentence, сommendable, lamentable, lacrimable, profitable for the soul.