Middle English Literature

interfere
But be ay redy withe-oute feynynge
At hable tyme to done your lorde service.
suitable
So shalle yee gete anoone a name of price.
renown
Also to brynge drynke, holde lihte whanne tyme ys
Or, to doo that whiche ouhte forte be done,
Looke yee be preste, for so yee shalle ywys
In nurture gete a gentyl name ful sone.
And yif ye shulde at God aske yow a bone,
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Als to the worlde better in noo degre
Mihte yee desire thanne nurtred forto be.
Yif that youre lorde his owne coppe lyste commende
To yow to drynke, ryse up whanne yee it take
And resseyve it goodly withe boothe youre hende.
Of yt also to noone other profre ye make,
But unto him that brouhte yt yee, hit take
Whenne yee have done, for yt in no kyn wyse
Auhte comune be, as techis us the wyse.
Now must I telle in shorte, for I muste so,
Youre observaunce that ye shalle done at none.
Whenne that ye se youre lorde to mete shalle goo,
Be redy to fecche him water sone,
Summe helle water; summe holde to he hathe done
healthy
The clothe to him, and from him yee nat pace
Whils he be sette and have herde sayde the grace.
Byfore him stonde whils he komaunde yo sytte
Withe clene handes ay redy him to serve.
Whenne yee be sette, your knyf withe alle your wytte
Unto youre sylf bothe clene and sharpe conserve
That honestly yee mowe your owne mete kerve.
Latte curtesye and sylence withe yow duelle,
And foule tales looke noone to other telle.
Kutte withe your knyf your brede and breke yt nouhte.
A clene trenchour byfore yow eke ye lay
cutting dish
And, whenne your potage to yow shalle be brouhte,
thick soup, stew
Take yow sponys and soupe by no way,
And in youre dysshe leve nat your spone, I pray,
Nor on the borde lenynge be yee nat sene,
But from embrowyng the clothe yee kepe clene.
dirtying
Oute overe youre dysshe your heede yee nat hynge,
And withe fulle mouthe drynke in no wyse.
Youre nose, your teethe, your naylles, from pykynge
Kepe at your mete, for so techis the wyse.
Eke or ye take in youre mouthe, yow avyse,
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Feasts
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196
Style and Spectacle
So mekyl mete but that yee rihte welle mowe
Answere and speke whenne men speke to yow.
Whanne ye shalle drynke, your mouthe clence withe a clothe,
Youre handes eke that they in no manere
Imbrowe the cuppe, for thanne shulle noone be lothe dirty
Withe yow to drynke that ben withe yow yfere.
The salte also touche nat in his salere
Withe nokyns mete, but lay it honestly
no kinds of
On youre trenchoure, for that is curtesy.
Youre knyf withe mete to your mouthe nat bere,
And in youre hande not holde yee yt no way;
Eke, yf to yow be brouhte goode metys sere,
diverse
Luke curteysly of ylke mete yee assay,
And yf your dysshe withe mete be tane away
And better brouhte, curtesye wole certeyne
Yee late yt passe and calle it nat ageyne.
And yf straungers withe yow be sette at mete
And unto yow goode mete be brouhte or sente,
Withe parte of hit goodely yee theym rehete,
For yt ys nouhte ywys convenyent,
Withe yow at mete whanne other ben present,
Alle forto holde that unto yow ys brouhte,
And as wrecches on other vouchesauf nouhte.
Kutte nouhte youre mete eke as it were felde men
That to theyre mete have suche an appetyte
That they ne rekke in what wyse, where ne when,
Nor how ungoodly they on theyre mete twyte,
tear
But, swete children, have al-wey your delyte
In curtesye, and in verrey gentylnesse,
And at youre myhte eschewe boystousnesse.
Whanne chese ys brouhte, a trenchoure ha ye clene,
On whiche withe clene knyf [ye] your chese mowe kerve.
In youre fedynge luke goodly yee be sene,
And from jangelyng your tunge al-wey conserve,
For so ywys yee shalle a name deserve
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Off gentylnesse and of goode governaunce,
And in vertue al-wey youre silf avaunce.
Whanne that so ys that ende shalle kome of mete,
Youre knyffes clene where they ouhte to be,
Luke yee putte uppe and holde eke yee your seete
Whils yee have wasshe, for so wole honeste.
Whenne yee have done, looke thanne goodly that yee
Withe-oute lauhtere, japynge, or boystous worde,
Ryse uppe and goo unto youre lordis borde,
And stonde yee there, and passe yee him nat fro
Whils grace ys sayde and brouhte unto an ende.
Thanne somme of yow for water owe to goo,
Somme holde the clothe, somme poure upon his hende.
Other service thanne this I myhte comende
To yow to done but, for the tyme is shorte,
I putte theym nouhte in this lytyl reporte,
But overe I passe, prayying withe spyrit gladde
Of this labour that no wihte me detray,
belittle
But where to lytyl ys, latte him more adde,
And whenne to myche ys, latte him take away;
For thouhe I wolde, tyme wole that I no moresay.
I leve therfore, and this book I directe
To every wihte that lyste yt to correcte.
And, swete children, for whos love now I write,
I yow beseche withe verrey lovande herte
To knowe this book that yee sette your delyte
And myhtefulle God, that suffred peynes smerte,
In curtesye he make yow so experte
That, thurhe your nurture and youre governaunce,
In lastynge blysse yee mowe your self avaunce.