“Richard Corbet”

The king and the court,Desirous of sport,Six days at Woodstock did lie;Thither went the doctors,And sattin-sleev’d proctors,With the rest of the learned fry;

Whose faces did shineWith beere and with wine,So fat, that it may be thoughtUniversity cheere,With college strong beere,Made them far better fed than taught.

A number beside,With their wenches did ride,(For scholars are always kind)And still evermore,While they rode before,They were kissing their wenches behind.

A number on foot,Without cloak or boot,And yet with the court go they would;Desirous to showHow far they could goTo do his high mightiness good.

The reverend Dean,With his band starch’d clean,Did preach before the King;A ring was his prideTo his bandstrings tied,Was not this a pretty thing?

The ring, without doubt,Was the thing put him out,And made him forget what was next;For every one thereWill say, I dare swear,He handled it more than his text.

He would provoke court wits to singThe second part of bandstrings and the ring.

Come, all ye Muses, and rejoyceAt this your nursling’s happy choyce;Come, Flora, strew the bridemaid’s bed,And with a garland crown her head;Or, if thy flowers be to seek,Come gather roses at her cheek.Come, Hymen, light thy torches, letThy bed with tapers be beset,And if there be no fire by,Come light thy taper at her eye:In that bright eye there dwells a starre,And wise-men by it guided are.

“Salutem in Christo.