Classic Poem

To : Oxford the King is gone
w i th all his pompous grace,
to vew the sights & see the learning
of tha t ffamous place,
where clownes of the towne —
clothed in their scarlett gownes —
gaue the K ing such a thing
as passes all imageninge;
a paire of gloues, to testifye their loues
w hi ch to the K ing they bore

They gaue him a payre of gloues
of stiffe & strong staggs lether;
I say, a payre of hunting gloues
to keepe out wind and wheather.
Some relate they gaue him plate,
& a purse stufft full w i th gold:
" sure, " said I, " thats a lye! "
as soone as ere I heard itt told.
ffor why shold they giue their gold away
to him tha t hath enough of his owne?

Next to christs-church was he brought,
a place of Mickle ffame,
where the warden him receiued, —
I haue forgott his name —
heere they all went to the hall,
tag & rag, great and small;
the bells did ring, the boyes did singe,
& all did crye, " god saue the Kinge!
& grant him grace to run a race
w i th pleasure in Royston downes! "

The hall was honge w i th verses thicke,
a goodlye sight to see,
ffor euery one was willed to make
verses in his degree.
to their trade some had made
verses called ascelpiade
here might you find, of euerye Kind,
verses ffitting to yo u r minde:
here an examiter, there a pentamiter,
saphickes, & seasens too.