He cannot fynd it in rule nor in space,
He solfyth too haute, hys trybyll is too high,
He braggyth of his byrth that borne was full base,
Hys musyk withoute mesure, too sharp, is his 'my,'
He trymmeth in his tenor to counter pardy,
His descant is besy,[1] it is without a mene,
Too fat is his fantsy, his wyt is too lene.
He tumbryth on a lewde lewte, Rotybulle Joyse,
Rumbill downe, tumbill downe, hey go, now now,
He fumblyth in his fyngering an ugly rude noise,
It seemyth the sobbyng of an old sow:
He wolde be made moch of, and he wyst how;
Well sped in spindels and tuning of travellys
A bungler, a brawler, a picker of quarrels.
Comely he clappyth a payre of clavicordys
He whystelyth so swetely he maketh me to swet,
His discant is dashed full of discordes,
A red angry man, but easy to intrete; etc.
Further on we read—
For lordes and ladyes lerne at his scole,
He techyth them so wysely to solf and to fayne,
That neither they sing wel prike-song nor plain.
Skelton's main objection to this person is that he, being in reality of very humble origin, presumed on his very doubtful musical abilities to gain a foot-
- ↑ 'Besy,' that is, 'busy,' meaning 'fussy,' a bad fault in descant, as it is to this day in counterpoint.
