5 10 15 20 25 30 fol. 23v 36 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 80 fol. 24r 85 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 130 fol. 24v 135 140 145 150 155 160 165 170 175 fol. 25r 180 185 190 195 200 205 210 215 220 fol. 25v 225 230 235 240 245 250 255 260 fol. 26r      266 270 275 280 285

The Shype-Ax seyd unto the Wryght, “Mete and drynke I schall thee plyght; Clene hose and clene schone, Gete them wheresoever thou kane. Bot for all that ever thou kane, Thall never be thryfty man, Ne none that longys the crafte unto, For nothyng that thou kane do.” “Wherfore,” seyd the Belte, “With grete strokys I schall hym pelte. My mayster schall full well thene, Both to clothe and fede his men.” “Ye, ye,” seyd the Twybyll, “Thou spekys ever ageyn skyll. Iwys, iwys, it wyll not bene, Ne never I thinke that he wyll then.” “Yis, yis,” seyd the Wymbyll. “I ame als rounde as a thymbyll. My maysters werke I wyll remembyr; I schall crepe fast into the tymbyr, And help my mayster within a stounde To store his cofer with twenti pounde.” “Ye, ye” seyd the Compas, “Thou arte a fole in that case. For thou spekys without vysment; Therfor thou getyst not thi entent. Wyte thou wele it schall be so, That lyghtly cum schall lyghtly go. And thou gete more than other fyve, Yit schall thi mayster never thryve.” The Groping-Iren than spake he: “Compas, who hath grevyd thee? My mayster yit may thryve full wele; How he schall I wyll thee telle. I ame his servant trew and gode; I suere thee, Compas, by the rode, Wyrke I schall bothe nyght and dey; To gete hym gode I schall assey.” “Ye, ye,” seyd the Saw, “It is bote bost that thou doyst blow. For thofe thou wyrke bothe dey and nyght, He wyll not thé, I sey thee ryght. He wones to nyghe the alewyffe And he thouht ever for to thryffe.” Then seyd the Whetston, “Thof my mayster thryft be gone, I schall hym helpe within this yere To gete hym twenti merke clere. Hys axes schall I make full scharpe, That thei may lyghtly do ther werke. To make my master a ryche man I schall asey if that I cane.” To hym than seyd the Adys, And seyd, “Ye, syr, God gladys. To speke of thryfft, it wyll not be, Ne never I thinke that he schall thé. For he wyll drynke more on a dey Than thou cane lyghtly arne in twey; Therfor thi tonge I rede thou hold And speke no more no wordys so bold.” To the Adys than seyd the Fyle, “Thou schuldys not thi mayster revyle; For thoff he be unhappy, Yit for his thryft thou schuldys se. For I thinke or tomorow at none To arne my mayster a payre of schone. For I schall rube with all my myght, My mayster tolys for to dyght, So that within a lytell space, My mayster purce I schall encrece.” Than seyd the Chesyll, “And ever he thryve, he berys hym wele.1 For tho thou rube to thi hede ake, His thryfte fro hym it wyll be take. For he loves gode ale so wele That he therfor his hode wyll selle. For some dey he wyll seven pens drynke; How he schall thryve I cane not thinke.” “Ye, ye,” seyd the Lyne and the Chalke, “My mayster is lyke to many folke. Tho he lufe ale never so wele, To thryve and thé I schall hym telle. I schall merke well upon the wode, And kepe his mesures trew and gode; And so by my mesures all, To thé full wele my mayster schall.” Than bespake the Prykyng Knyfe, “He duellys to nyghe the alewyfe. Sche makys oft tyme his purse full thyn; No peny some tyme sche levys therin. Tho thou gete more than other thre, Thryfty man he cane not be.” “Ye, ye” seyd the Persore, “That at I sey it schall be sure. Whi chyd ye iche one with other? Wote ye not wele I ame your brother? Therfor none contrary me, For as I sey, so schall it be. My mayster yit schall be full ryche; Als fer as I may stret and streche, I wyll helpe with all my myght, Both by dey and by nyght, Fast to runne into the wode And byte I schall with moth full gode. And thus I trow, be my crowne, To make hym schyreff of the toune.” “Soft, syr,” seyd the Skantyllyon “I trow your thryft be wele ny don. Ever to crewyll thou arte in word, And yet thou arte not worth a tord. For all the gode that thou gete myght, He wyll spend it on a nyght.” Than the Crow bygan to speke, Forwhy is herte was lyke to breke To here his brother so revyld, And seyd, “Thou spekys lyke a chyld. Tho my mayster spend never so faste, Inoughe he schall have at the laste. May forteyn as mych as ever schall he That drynke never peny to that he dyghe.” “Ye, ye” seyd the Rewle, “Ifeyth, thou arte bot a fole. For and he dyghe and have ryght nought, Who trowys thou wyll gyfe hym owght? Thus schall he ly upon the grownd, And be beryd lyke an hund. For and a man have ought befor, When he has nede it is gode store.” “What, Syr Reule?” seyd the Pleyn, “Another reson I wyll thee seyn: Thoff my mayster have no happe, Yit thi mayster thou schuldyst not lake. For yit a mene I schall se That my mayster schall wele thé. I schall hym helpe both dey and nyght To gete hym gode with all my myght. I schall clens on every syde To helpe my mayster in his pride.” The Brode-Ax seyd withouten mysse; He seyd, “The Pleyn my brother is; We two schall clence and make full pleyn, That no man schall us geynseyn, And gete oure mayster in a yere More sylver than a man may bere.” “Ye, ye,” seyd the Twyvete, “Thryft, I trow, be fro you sette. To kepe my mayster in his pride, In the contré ye canne not byde Without ye stele and be thefys And put meny men to greffys. For he wyll drynke more in a houre Than two men may gete in fowre. When ye have wrought all that ye canne, Yit schall he never be thryfty mane.” Than bespake the Polyff With gret strong wordys and styffe: “How, Syr Twyvet? Me thinke you grevyd. What devyll who hath you thus mevyd? Thof he spend more in a yere Of gold and sylver than thou may bere, I schall hym helpe with all my myght; I trow to make hym yet a knyght.” “What, Syr?” seyd the Wyndas-Rewle, “Me thynke thou arte bot a fole. For thou spekys oute of seson; He may not thé therfor by reson. A carpenter to be a knyght? That were ever ageyn ryght. Therfor I schall telle thee a saw: Who so wold be hyghe he schall be law.” “Ye,” than seyd the Rewle-Stone, “Mayster hath many fone, And ye wold helpe at his nede, My mayster schuld the better spede. Bot whatsoever ye brage or boste, My mayster yet schall reule the roste. For as I ame a trew man, I schall hym helpe all that I cane.” The Gowge seyd, “The devyles dyrte For any thyng that thow cane wyrke! For all that ever thou canne do, It is not worth an old scho. Thow hast be prentys this seven yere, And yit thy crafte is for to lere. And thou couthe wyrke als wele as he, Yet schall thi mayster never thé.” “Softe, syr,” seyd the Gabull Rope, “Me thinke gode ale is in your tope. For thou spekys as thou wold fyght, Therto and thou hade any myght. I schall tell thee another tale: My mayster how I schall aveyle. Hayle and pull I schall full faste To reyse housys whyle I may laste. And so within a lytell thraw, My mayster gode schall not be know.” Than spake the Wryghtys Wyfe, “Nother of you schall never thryfe, Nother the mayster ne the man, For nothinge that ye do canne. For ye wyll spend in a moneth More gode than thre men hath.” The Squyre seyd, “What sey ye dame? Ye schuld not speke my mayster schame.” “Squyre, I have non other cause, I suere thee by Seynt Eustase; For all the yerne that I may spynne, To spend at ale he thinkys no synne. He wyll spend more in an owre Than thou and I cane gete in fowre.” “Yit me thinke ye be to blame To gyffe my mayster syche a name. For thoff he spend more than ye have, Yit his worschype ye schuld save.” “Mary, I schrew hym and thee to, And all them that so canne do. For hys servant I trow thou be, Ther thou schall never thé. For and thou lerne that craft at hym, Thy thryft I trow schall be full thine.” The Draught Nayle than spake he, And seyd, “Dame, that is no le. Ye hafe the maner of this frekys That thus for my mayster spekys. Bot lythe to me a lytell space: I schall yow tell all the case, How that they wyrke for ther gode — I wyll not lye, be the rode. When thei have wroght an oure or two, Anon to the ale thei wyll go And drinke ther, whyle thei may dre ‘Thou to me!’ and ‘I to thee!’ And seys, ‘The Ax schall pay for this; Therfor the cope ons I wyll kys.’ And when thei come to werke ageyne, The Belte to hys mayster wyll seyne, ‘Mayster, wyrke not oute of reson; The dey is vary long of seson. Smale strokys late us hake, And sum tyme late us es oure bake.’ The Wymbull spekys lyke a syre: ‘Sevyn pens of a dey is smale hyre For wryghtys that wyrke so faste And in owre werke have grete haste.’ The Groping Iren seys full sone, ‘Mayster, wyll ye wele done? Late us not wyrke to we suete For cachyng of over-gret hete. For we may after cold to take, Than on stroke may we no hake.’ Than bespake the Whetston, And seyd, ‘Mayster, we wyll go home, For fast it draw unto the nyght; Our soper by this I wote is dyght.’ The Lyne and Stone, the Perser and Fyle, Seys, ‘That is a gode counsylle.’ The Crow, the Pleyn, and the Squyre Seys, ‘We have arnyd wele our hyre.’ And thus with fraudys and falsyd Is many trew man deseyvid. Therfor, by ought that I canne se, They schall never thryve ne thé. Therfor the craft I wyll go froo And to another wyll I goo.” Than ansuerd the Wyfe in hye, “And I myght, so wold I, Bot I ame to hym bounde so faste That off my halter I may not caste. Therfor the preste that bounde me prentys, He schall treuly have my curse, And ever schall have, to that I dyghe, In what contré that ever he be.” Therfor, wryghtys, take hede of this, That ye may mend that is amysse, And treuly that ye do your labore, For that wyll be to your honour. And greve you nothing at this song, Bot ever make mery yourselve amonge, Ne gest at hym that it dud make, Ne envy at hym ye take, Ne non of you do hym blame. For-why the craft hath do hym schame By mo weys than two or thre, Thus seys the boke, serteynlye. God, that is both gode and hend, Gyff you grace that ye may mend, And bryng us all unto His blysse, That never fro us schall mysse. AMEN QUOD RATE

Chip-Ax; Carpenter; (see note); (t-note) Food; promise stockings; shoes; (see note) [You will need to]; (t-note) you can ever do Thou shall; prosperous; (see note) Nor any who belongs to the trade; (see note) For anything; (t-note) Thus; Mallet; (see note) strike prosper (t-note) Double-edged Ax; (see note) against reason Surely, surely, it will not be so Nor; prosper Boring tool (drill); (see note) sink firmly moment fill his coffer; (see note) fool thought desire You know well [Even] if you earn; five such Gouge; (see note) swear [to] you; cross try only a boast that you blow (brag) (t-note) prosper; tell you lives too near; tavern keeper; (see note) If prosperity twenty marks profit; (see note) Adze; (see note) rejoices easily earn in two unfortunate should tend to his work before noon tomorrow earn; shoes to prepare my master’s tools a short while master’s purse Chisel rub until your head aches profit will be taken from him hood seven pence worth; (see note) imagine (see note) like many ever so much urge; (t-note) Awl; (see note) too near thin Sometimes she leaves earn more than three others Auger (drill); (see note) That which I say will surely be true argue with each other Know contradict strain and stretch mouth (teeth) trust sheriff; (see note) Softly (Hush); Gauge; (see note) cruel turd in a night Crowbar Because insulted [He] may be as fortunate a penny’s worth until he dies; (see note) Ruler (Straight-Edge) Truly believes; anything; (t-note) buried; hound [earned] anything reserve supply Plane luck blame (abuse) yet I will see a means prosper cleanse (by scraping) Broad-Ax; with certainty; (see note) gainsay (disagree with) Ax (or mallet?); (see note) Profit, I am sure, is kept from you live Unless grief Still Pulley (Block and tackle) fierce disturbed (see note) Windlass; (see note) untimely (improperly) against proverb low (humble) Ruler (Straight-Edge) foes If fare better roost Gouge (Chisel); dirt (filth); (see note) shoe apprentice; (see note); (t-note) still to be learned If you could work as well Hush; Cable head If you had any strength thereto assist Haul short while be unknown (uncountable) Carpenter’s Neither; ever (see note) month Square yarn hour reputation; protect curse if; from him thin (meager) Nail Puller; (see note) lie know the habits; men in favor of; (t-note) listen; short while cross worked while they can continue cup once I will kiss (i.e., drink) Mallet unreasonably; (t-note) hack ease Auger small wages carpenters who Gouge; (t-note) until we sweat For fear of overheating catch a cold [So] that we cannot hack one stroke I believe is ready Awl advice Crowbar; Plane; Square earned frauds and falsehood loudly (proudly) If I could (t-note) priest who put me in service until I die [So] that; what is amiss            Nor scoff at him that did make it; (see note); (t-note) Because; has done more gracious depart