Therto I wol heere reherse the verray falsehede off the Duk of Buckingham who hath with grete bobbaunce wrought hys mal engynes in this lond to the hurte of many a bettir man than he. som men yn Engelonde wol say that thys duk of Bokhyngeham is ‘fatte’ and ‘ful off grece’; I know nat whethir hit be so, but I wold sey, that that selff dewke is an overthwartely opynne-mowthed duke that hath nat so muche pousté as he wol lette be noysed he hath. But as for that, let be: I wol sey more touchynge hym anone.
Thys ys my herborgage as at thys tyme:
And ye wol say: Hit ys presoun! Thanne wol I sey, Ye, hyt is. {Sayde I nat knyghte-presoner tofornehonde?} That ys hyghte Newegate in Londoun, whiche ys passyng stronge and thicke-wallyd. But be that as be may. hit may nat holde me ovirlong. but I wol sey, hyt ys a wel-purveyed preson, and i dwelle within myn owen chambir that is a warme chambir and a drye, and ys a gode enow. And y am grauntid therto thappurtenances longing unto knyghthode, and hyt is somdel gode herbowrage, yif that I myghte wythstonde the vermayne, which are terrabil wise-fyghtyng rattis! her ys a byg and boysteous one that I hyghte Werlow. (But as for that, wete you well, thys place is bettir thanne the presoun at Colchestre.) And I have had sum bookys delivird, and leyser to rede.Pray for hym that this wrote,
that God delyver hym sone
Syr Thomas Malleorré knyght
1 comment:
Ryghte worsshypful syr knyghte,
I recommende me vnto you, but these tidynges that ye haf begunne a blog are fayre out of mesure, for I dare seyen your booke is the noblest historye of the grete ordre of chyualrye of the Table Rounde that euer was y-written, and as for your langage, hit is swete and hende of the fassioune of makeres, that susteyneth the writ euer in plesaunce to reden. Forsothe your booke I rede full oft, for euer hit spedeth me in myne couragge and recomforte, and thereyn is clene ensaumple and goode of chiualrye and verteouse lufe to folwen.
But syr, hit sore me greueth to here of youre emprisounemente, and that ye herboure emongest mys and rattes and oother foule lytel bestes. And eke hit merueylleth me that ye be the mann that wrote the noble booke entytled Le Morte Darthur, and be fordemede to emprisounemente, wherefore hit methynketh wel that ye assaye to escappen thence. I haf herde of youre supposede misdedes and synnes, but methynketh hy be but wykede engynes of hem that yow haten, whereof hy that wolde casten yow vnto euyl fame and wrecchednesse.
God spede youre delyueraunce, goode syr.
Youre humble seruaunt and redere,
Syr Percyual de Galis
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