Matirs of bisiness, organisacioun and swoteness

Mes cheres lecteurez,

Juste a fewe quicke updates concernynge the page.

Ich do hopen that this newe blogspote syte plese yow as muche as yt pleseth me, for ich do muchel relisshe myn litel florale bordere and smal illustraciouns. Ywis, ich waxe fondre and fondre of myn goode scriven and webmayster, hende Adam Lynkferste (confuse hym nat with Adam Pinkhurste, who ys a scabye manne who did stele two large and creamye wheeles of chese from myn hous and shal neure worke for me ayeyn!).

Ich am muchel delited by theffortes of two of yow, who aren clearlie of myn affinitee. One dide make smalle figures of Gower and ich, somedeel in the maner of the penates ones worshipped by the romaynes: see them heere. Also, anothir diligente craftere of peynture dide make an series of illuminaciouns concernynge myn late altercacioun wyth Johannes Gowere, and yow kan see those peyntures and figures heere. O by seinte Sebastian, wolde thatte ich (and eek Philippa!) dide hauen suche fayre and gente features as we do yn thes litel illustraciouns. Alas, euene in myn dreames talkynge eagles do mock me for beynge too hevy.

Also, y haue hadde manye gentil and wise visiteurs, such as Henrie Scogan, William Langlande, Christine of Pise, Frankeys Villon, Nicholas the clerke, and many an othir. They kan be founde yn the commentes to myn nyce and foolishe entries.

Finallie, Adam Lynkferste hath putte vp lynkes yn the sidebar for yowr profitt and instrucioun. Ich haue also hadde hym lynke to othir blogges -- yf ich haue a lynke for thee and it pleseth thee nat, telle me and ich shal remoue yt fastre than thou kanst say "archbishope arundel."

Litel Lowys my sone continueth to depely troublen myn herte. For he spendeth alle of hys tyme in hys chaumbre wyth his Exeboxe CCCLX playnge games of muchel violence. And whenne he ys nat killynge thynges on a screne, he listeneth to thys maner of musique called rap or sometymes hip & hoppe. And he careth nat for Boethius nor for the melodies of Machaut and Deschampes, nor euene for myn moste liveli tales of Alisoun and Nicholas. Lette alone the astrolabe.

Ich haue decided that ich shal ginne to wryte some verses of thys rap musique forto gladen myn litel sone and eek to maken othir yonge peple lerne of myn tales. Yt semeth this good felawe hath alredi some musique, but myne rymes shal ben tyghter. What thinke yow of thys projet?

That ys al for nowe.

Le Vostre

24 comment "Matirs of bisiness, organisacioun and swoteness"

  1. Cher Seigneur Chaucer,

    What doth "Bi seinte loy" meaneth?


    A Modern

  2. Gower hath a blogge, yet yt is an unsubtil jape. He is a wankere and a cowerd. He alloweth no commentes on his foolysh worddes to be made.

    Also, he hath no sensse of style. Blue tunics are so 1330. Y am, myselve, apparelled in a t-shirrte claiming myn virtue to the worlde.

  3. Just a note to let you know I think this is the best work EVER! I included you among my list, I hope you don´t mind.
    If only this place had been opened when I was FORCED to read and study Seigneur Chaucer!

    Keep on dazzling us!


  4. Deeere sire or madame,

    'Tis an ooth, sworne in reverence of Seynte Loy, or yn Latyne Sanctus Eligius. Ich once hadde acqueyntance of a prioresse whos maners were so clene that her gretest ooth was but 'by seinte loy' - whanne yn moste cases in tavernes and stretes thou kanst heere men sweren 'by goddes nvttes' and othir foule oothes.

    Nunc scis, et scientia est proelii dimidia pars. Whiche on Englysshe meneth: "Now thou knowst, and the knowynge ys halve parte of the bataille."

    Le Vostre


  5. Certes! I do hopen wyth alle myn herte that thow shal wryte some of thys rap musique! Go, Geoffrey, go Geoffrey! It shalle bee thow natal day! It shalle bee thou natal day!

  6. Cher GC,

    It pleseth me gretely to be so affixed to yowr liste of blogges. Merci beaucoup.

    Have yow, perchance, seen the blogge of the nomen "Getting Medieval." Me thynkes it wolde giue yow grete solace.

  7. Bi goddes ers, ich have notte patience with swich drivelling ooths as 'bi seynt loy'. An ooth should fille a manne's mouth like vnto wyn of galice.

  8. Bi goddes ers, ich have notte patience with swich drivelling ooths as 'bi seynt loy'. An ooth should fille a manne's mouth like vnto wyn of galice.

    Vous ditez vrai, comme touz jourz, mon trespuissant et tressage sovereyn.

    (by the waye, myn liege lorde, ther ys a matir of delayede annuitees of which I wolde fayne speken with yowr majestee)

  9. Perhaps you and your son might both enjoy another translation of a famous rap song. Something to bridge the generations...

    Baby-Got-Back, in Latin:

  10. Ma Cher Megan,

    Baby-Got-Back, in Latin:

    By my feith! That ys a translacioun of much lernynge and skille. Tho ich vndirstonde nat the grant affecioun for posteriores that Messire Mixalot doth bere. Whanne ich am checkynge outte a ladye, ich do looke at the forehead, the wimple, and eek sometymes the nekke. Ich am a reale forehead-man.

    Grantmerci for the linke,

    Le Vostre


  11. Mon cher Geoffroi, be notte like that wankere Gowere and aske me notte for goold or selvere, ne for pounds nor pence, during the tym of this long werre. Knowst thou notte, from thyn werke at the costoumes hous, thatte alle myn revenue be yspent in the cause of fredome in ye chevauchie of Mespotamie? Beth thou a frende of that moste evil manne Usama son of Ladin, he that most trecherously assailed the tours of myn citie of new Yorke? Speke notte to me of delaied annuities, cher ami, lest thou be adjudged traitre and swift despached to myn fortresse of Guantaname.

  12. Bien cher Seigneur Chaucer,
    Ohh! I'm sure an up-to-date individual such as yourself could create an excellent "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp." Perhaps next year's Oscar's committee will take note.

    La votre, a toujours,

    Megan. BSL!
    I'm going to check out "Baby Got Back" next.

  13. Mon Cher Chaucer,

    Ane othir linke ffor to delite thy visiteurs: Nuntii Latini, conspectus rerum internationalium hebdomadalis.

    Gratias agimus tibi, radyo finlonde!

  14. BSL. I mente "GOT Medieval" for that ys the blogge. "Getting Medieval," bien sur, ys the not so olde book by Carolyn Dinshaw.


  15. Mon cher Geoffroi, be notte like that wankere Gowere and aske me notte for goold or selvere, ne for pounds nor pence, during the tym of this long werre.

    But goode messire, we aren at trewes wyth the Frensshe, and thou hast nat made mencioun of a crusade bifor.

    Thow ich am sore afrayde to asken yowr majestee of thys yn a public forum, are yow possessed by thatte othir kyng from the future ayeyn? Trewely, yt ys straunge when yow speke yn a twangynge accent lyke a flemynge and talke about 'freedam.'

    O multa mirabilia in hoc mundo!

    Le Vostre


  16. Ah, cher Geoffroi, question nat thyn liege lorde, lest thou be takyn to a tym to come and to places thou kennst not of.

    Trewely, myn goold ben yspent in warres most strange, and myn voice hath a twangy quality acquired, and fredome beth a word often in myn mouth. But to call thy sovran kynge possest is to risk metyng with myn most trusty torturers. Thou beth a trusty manne in thyn businesse, seeke not to anger thy most worryed kynge unlike that traitrous wankere Gowere.

  17. I have herden of this "rappe" musique. I kepe my childeren from herynge hit onle by hauynge hem home-schoolen, though wel I woot nat the ne Philippe should adbyde this nocioun. Hmmm... shalt thu maketh a "remix" of Machaut togetheres wyth thatte Snoopie Dogg Dogg ower whatevere he be?

  18. Goode Poete,
    Byfowre seiting thye quylle to the fowrme yete knywne as "rap", praye thyte ye slyae a mowre formydabile beyste thyne Grydle eyxpowsed iyn thyse dyes prynting ofe "BoingBoing."

    When the English tongue we speak.
    Why is break not rhymed with freak?
    Will you tell me why it's true
    We say sew but likewise few?
    And the maker of the verse,
    Cannot rhyme his horse with worse?
    Beard is not the same as heard
    Cord is different from word.
    Cow is cow but low is low
    Shoe is never rhymed with foe.
    Think of hose, dose,and lose.

    Yowre lowyle Mane of Lawe.

  19. Sir Cadenheede:

    He can nat rym becaus he can nat spelle.

  20. Quich for a poete is a forme of Helle.

  21. Yow nyce prisunes of Englisch. This blog is not for yow. Envined it is bayn.

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