Vnpleasant September

It hath been longe syn ich haue writen eny thing for my blog. Pour voir dire For to speken trewely, ther beth but litel mirthe and solaas yn myn hous, and lik-wise in al the houses of Engelonde. Al the moneth of August and nowe yn to the temperat moneth of September, mony tidynges haue yronne thurgh the reaume of a greet navie fleet of shippes that the Frensshe haue gadrid at Sluys. Every shire feareth an invasioun!

And thus Philippa is al vp on me about goinge to Londoun for Parlement. Ich am yerne to goon to speke of the gret matirs of the reaume wyth ful loial corage, and to peraventure do sum ‘networkinge’ that may winne me a bettir job. And yet Philippa wisheth me to stayen at hoom.

Alwey she saith thus: “Forwhy dide Godde yive thee eares, Geoffrey, whan thou opst hem nat to eny sense? Thou art ever frowarde, that dare I swear. Al the folke of London murmren as bees doth in an hyve that the Frensshe shal eftsoon come to Londoun-toun and maken siege and assaut vpon it! Kanst thou, Geoffrey, holde off the knightes of Fraunce wyth yower games of video, or wyth yower litel woolen hatte?”

And she hath a poynt, for Tommy Vske hath wroot me of the hullabaloo that taketh place in Londoun thes dayes. Al who kepen menage hous in Londoun haue been commandid to laye doun store of provisions ynogh for III moneths if the Frensshe should make siege. And sum men of Londoun, y trowe, haue torne the houses doun that stood neigh to the walles, to make hem moore redy for defens. And the fishmongeres hath preparid greet trebuchets machines of werre with whiche they shal hurle salt-herringe at the foe-men whanne they come up the Thamis. The poulterers haue trained XL cokkes to fly wyth bombes of fyre and poudre yfastned to ther talons, and droppe doun vpon the shippes of the Frensshe. Ther haue eek ben sum suggestions involving serpentes. And sum men flee the citee, or dispend al ther worldlie goodes for thei thinke they shal haue but litel tyme left to lyve as fre men.

And eek no soul speketh wel of the Frensshe in al of Engelonde. Ywis, in eny phrase or name which bifor had the wordes ‘Frensshe’ or ‘Fraunce,’ nowe for loue of Engelonde and Seynt George and good Kyng Richard al men say in sted ‘Magna Carta.’ And thus we eten of ‘Magna Carta fries’ and ‘Magna Carta breed’ and do ower legal pledinge in ‘Law Magna Carta.’ Ich chide litel Lowys for ‘Magna Carta kissinge’ on dates and the whil ich wayte up for hym to return ich do rede wyth muchel delit the lais of ‘Marie de Magna Carta.’ Syn everychoon pretty much still useth the Magna Carta language for commerce, and chevisaunce, and lawe, thinges are a bit of a mess.

And thus al is nat wel chez chaucer at myn hous. Parlement a big meetinge? Parliament shal be a tyme to speken of gret matirs, for the kinge nedeth moneye for defens. No matir what Philippa saith, ich feere no Magna Carta invasion of Londoun, and ich shal go and speke for my shire. Eek, ich shal pick up sum of my annuittees and also ich am supposid to testify for my lord and buddy Sir Richard Scrope. And it shal be good to see Tommy Vske ayein. Also, it wolde much plese me to see thos trayned attak chickens.

Ich shall writ ayein whanne ich come to Londoun! Parliament openeth on october 1st. Ich haue ben toold that ther shal be a recepcioun wyth shrimpe cocktailes on the first daye. Also, my lord the kinge hath sente me a liste of 'talking poyntez.'

Le VostreYoweres treuli,
GC

17 comment "Vnpleasant September"

  1. Bienvenu--nay, welcome back! Methinketh a jest of the English jogeler Tony Hancock might plese thee: 'Have you forgotten Magna Carta? Did she die in vain?'

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  2. Verily the writyngs of Marie de Magna Carta pleaseth me.

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  3. Hit greueth sore myn herte that menn demen false Frenssh couenes al about, forwhy I loue metes of Frenssh cookery and wynes dyuers, but menn speken of false gynes to empoysenen suche metes. I fere wele my borde wyl be poorly sette.

    As to the fryede metes of the Grete Chartere, methynketh hem ouermoche greesy and hy willen forsooth yelden euil helthe. But yestrenyght I hadde to my borde Falaffeles of Corpus Iuris Ciuilis in a pite flatte-brede and with yogyrte. This is right fair mete that cometh of bokes of cokery of Bysaunce, and hit is lowe in fatte and maketh fayre dyggeste.

    Godde you sende fayr Septembere, Mayster Chaucer; I praye you haue merry Micchelmasse. The wether waxe fayre and sende us habundaunt harveste.

    Syr Percyuall of Wales

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  4. Methinketh "attak chickens" would be a good name for a band of chamber musiciens.

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  5. Doth not Parliament at Westminstre mete, and not in Londoun that citie of manie broyles? UUe long to see thee and here thyne moste wyse counsels in Ovre Highe Courte of Parliament.

    UUe are tolde bi myne lorde of Rumsfeld and bi the Erle of Chenie thatte the Frensshe are alle couardes and haven nat the stones for werre, yette this grete armament they gathere at Sluis doth testifie in othere wyse and we wolde faine heren fro a manne of grete wisdom and accompte such as thyn selfe. Hasten hither to Ovre Courte and herken nat to the uapovrings of thyn Philippa.

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  6. Sir Percivale: Perchaunce thou canst of the rabbit of Wales eten?

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  7. Surely the chickens of fire combined with tikka marsala sauce of the Indies will replace all the 'Magna Carta' meat in all the ale-houses of the land.

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  8. Tis said that ye Kyng of Magna Carta hath tayken up a flockke of leones de mer, with which he ys bounde and deterrmined to crosse the Channel, crawlynge vp vppone ye beaches of Englonde.

    All may be well, though, fore yt hath been declayred, by those wyse in such mautters, yt yf the Englyshe Navie shoulde sayl through the packke of swymming leones de mer, the affayre will be done, they being so lowe to ye watyer yt the washe of one shyppe of warre will drowne them.

    God for Richard, Englyonde + St. George!

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  9. The Welsshe rarbitte is mete that I may taken, but the fatte therein is hyghe forwhy the brede is fryede, and therfore hit is seldme at my borde. And the damoyselles of this londe sette hyre eyen vpon menn of fayre shape, wherfore I assaye to taken vnto my belwe lytel fatte for to kepen myn abbes styffe and mannly.

    And cokery of Inde is ouermoche hotte, wherethurgh I haue oft sore my mouthe and tonge brent vpon daynties and espycery.

    Syr Percyuall of Wales

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  10. I perceyve that there is muchel stresse and wo amongste the bloggeres of the academie thise dayes, for we al been a lyttle sluggysh. Per chaunce yt is the wether or the politykal clymate.

    Hmmm...the wethere. That yives me an idee for an allegorycal play about thynges politykal and relatiouns social.

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  11. "I perceyve that there is muchel stresse and wo amongste the bloggeres of the academie thise dayes, for we al been a lyttle sluggysh."

    Doctor Virage! It yiveth me greet joye to see yower commentes vpon myn litel blogge ayein.

    Ywis, thogh ich am not an academik (thogh ich be nyce, ich nam nat wood!), Mayster Linkferste my web-scrybe ys a clerk of minor orderes and hath been verye sluggysh thes dayes. Methinketh he suffereth the peynes smert of a herte that hath ybroke ben, for he speketh alwey of 'Jil' and howe Jil hath but litel joye for him. And yet sum tymes his talk of Jil semeth nat of loue and fin amor but of matirs churlisshe in sted, for he oft bemoaneth that Jil hath but 'fewe posiciouns.' Certes, Linkferste hath been as melancolie as an eremyte, and it hath been a thinge of gret difficultee to get hym to poost my entries of blogge and to edit myn achetemel (the which ys arabic for the quintessence of a web page).

    Le Vostre
    GC

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  12. Sire Percivale: Perchance thou shalt of the cokery of Cathay eten? 'Tis said to be lowe in fattes.

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  13. Give me a well rounded man to enfold me; I desire no encounter with abbes styffe.

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  14. To answren messyre Fsjls enquyre, yea, me liketh wel the metes of Cathaye, and ye sayen soothe, syr, for to hem demen lowe of fatte. Yet oft I haue liefer to setten my borde of mete and drynke of Europen cokery, for hy better besemen my taste. Eek I drede me that I am ouermoche fleumetike of tempremente of myne alymyntecioun, forwhy I ete sondry fruytes and wertes.

    But telle me, syr, vnto what metes yow lyke?


    Vnto madame Sally, seke as yow lyste, but I am ryght blythe vnto myn oune shape flesshly, for hit besemeth a knyght to kepen him stronge and fast of brawen, and I haue me dryuen sore for to acchieuen this shape. And my spede hath vnto me oft dalyaunce yolden of damoyselles swete and some seruyce at loue.


    Methynketh I spende ouermoche espace here in rehersalle to myneselfe, and this bloge appertayneth to Mayster Chaucere, and hit besemeth vs wel to speken of his rehersalles.

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  15. Sir Perciual:

    The metes of Spayne, of Cathay, of Inde, and eke of Italie liken me well. The cokery of ffransse me seemeth too muche concernid with artifice and too little with gode cheere.

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  16. Chykens trained tow attak? Ich canst ymagyne such a thyng! Ich fynd yt sylly that the folks yn Londoun haf taken tow speking no Frenshe, ynsted saing “Magna Carta”. Thys semes lyke a stupid fyx tow the problem. Ich think yt wyl ofende the “Magna Carta” even more! Ich hope that thou art safe on yowr jowrney.

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