A Looking Glass of Lessons Lewd.

 

An Advertisement by the Translator of the English Manner in breaking up of the Deer.

In describing this order how to break up a Deer, I have observed the duty of a faithful translator, nothing changing the words of mine author, but suffering him to proceed in the French manner; but because I find it different from our order in some points, therefore I have thought good here to set down such observations of difference as I have noted therein, lest the reader might be drawn in opinion that the error proceeded only in my default. 

First, where he appoints the Deer's foot to be cut off, and to be presented to the Prince or chief. Our order is that the Prince or chief - if so please them - alights and takes assay of the Deer with a sharp knife, the which is done in this manner: the Deer being laid upon his back, the Prince, chief or such as they shall appoint comes to it, and the Chief Huntsman - kneeling if it be to a Prince - holds the Deer by the forefoot, while the Prince or chief, cut a slit drawn along the brisket towards the belly. This is done to see the goodness of the flesh, and how thick it is. 

This being done, we use to cut off the Deer's head, and that is commonly done also by the chief personage, for they take delight to cut off his head with their woodknives, skeans or swords to try their edge, and the goodness or strength of their arm. If it be cut off to reward the hounds withall, the whole neck - or very near - is cut off with it, otherwise it is cut off near to the head. Then, the head is cabbaged - which is to say - it is cut close by the horns through the brain pan, until you come underneath the eyes, and there it is cut off. The piece which is cut from the horns - together with the brains - are to reward the hounds; that other piece is to nail up the horns by, for a memorial if he were a great Deer of head.

As for the dainty morsels which mine author speaks of for Princes, our use - as far as ever I could see - is to take the caul, the tongue, the ears, the doulcettes, the tenderlings - if his head be tender - and the sweet gut, which some call the inchpin, in a fair handkerchief altogether, for the Prince or chief. 

It must be remembered - which he leaves out - that the feet be all four left on. The hinder feet must be to fasten - or handle as some hunters call it - the haunches to the sides, and the two forefeet are left to hang up the shoulders by.

We use some ceremony in taking out the shoulder. First, he who takes it out cuts the thin skin of the flesh - when the Deer's skin is taken off - round about the leg, a little about the elbow joint; there, he raises out the sinew or muscle to hold the leg by. If afterwards he touch the shoulder or any part of the leg with any other thing than his knife until he have taken it out, it is a forfeiture, and he is thought to be no handsome woodman. With his shoulder knife, he cuts a hole between the leg and brisket, and there puts in his knife and loosens the shoulder from the side, going about with his knife near to the outside of the skin until he have quite taken out the shoulder, and yet left the skin of the side fair and whole. If he do it not at three bouts, it is also a forfeiture. 

We use not to take away the brisket bone, as far as ever I could see, but cleave the sides one from another directly from the place of assay unto the throat. There is a little gristle upon the spoon of the brisket, which we call the Raven's bone, because it is cast up to the Crows or Ravens which attend the Hunters. I have seen in some places a Raven so wont and accustomed to it, she would never sail to croak and cry for it, all the while you were breaking up the Deer, and would not depart until she had it. Furthermore, we use not to take the heart from the noombles, but account it a principle part thereof. About the winding up of the noombles, there is also some art to be showed, but by all likelihood, they use it not in France as we do.

Also, I cannot perceive by mine author's words that they make any arbour, which if they do not, they may chance to break up their Deer but homely sometimes. But if they cut away the brisket bone, it is the less requisite, because they may come at the weasand and convey it away easily. We use to reward our hounds with the paunch, being emptied first. 

These things of myself I have thought good to add, desiring the reader to take them in good part. 

The Woeful Words of the Hart to the Hunter.

Since I in deepest dread, do yield myself to man,
And stand full still between his legs, which erst full wildly ran:
Since I to him appeal, when hounds pursue me sore,
As who should say - now save me man, for else I may no more - 
Why dost thou then - O Man - O Hunter - me pursue,
With cry of hounds, with blast of horn, with halloo and with hue?
Or why dost thou devise, such nets and instruments,
Such toils and toys as Hunters use to bring me to their bents?
Since I - as erst was said - do so with humble cheer,
Hold down my head - as who should say, lo Man, I yield me here - 
Why art thou not content - O murdering cruel mind - 
Thyself alone to hunt me so, which art my foe by kind,
But that thou must instruct, with words in skillful writ, 
All other men to hunt me eke? O wicked wily wit.
Thou here hast set to show, within this busy book,
A looking glass of lessons lewd, wherein all Hunters may look:
And so while world doth last, they may be taught to bring,
The harmless Hart unto his bane, with many a wily thing. 
Is it because thy mind, doth seek thereby some gains?
Canst thou in death take such delight? breeds pleasure so in pains?
O cruel, be content to take in worth my tears,
Which grow to gum and fall from me:
Content thee with my horns, which every year I mew,
Since all these make medicines, some sickness to eshew.
My tears congeal to gum, by pieces from me fall,
And thee preserve from pestilence, in pomander or ball.
Such wholesome tears shed I, when thou pursuest me so, 
Thou - not content - doest seek my death, and then thou getst no more.
My hear is medicine burnt, all venemous worms to kill, 
The snake herself will yield thereto, such was my maker's will.
My horns - which aye renew - as many medicines make,
As there be troches on their tops, and all - Man - for thy sake.
As first they heal the head, from turning of the brain,
A dram thereof in powder drunk, doth quickly ease the pain:
They skin a kybed heel, they fret an anguayle off, 
Lo thus I skip from top to toe, yet neither scorn nor scoff.
They comfort fevers faint, and lingering long disease,
Distilled when they be tender buds, they sundry grieves appease:
They master and correct both humours, hot and cold, 
Which strive to conquer blood, and breed diseases manifold.
They bring down women's terms, and stop them too, for need,
They keep the mean 'tween both extremes, and serve both turns indeed:
They clear the dim sight, they kill both web and pin,
They soon restore the milt or spleen, which putrifies within.
They ease an aching tooth, they break the rumbling wind, 
Which gripes the womb with colic's pangs, such is their noble kind:
They quench the scalding fire, which scorched with his heat,
And skin the scald full clean again, and heal it trim and neat.
They poison do expel, from Kaisar, King or Queen,
When it by chance or deep deceit, is swallowed up unseen.
But wherefore spend I time in vain at large to praise, 
The virtues of my harmless horns, which heap my harm always?
And yet such horns, such hear, such tears as I have told, 
I mew and cast for man's avail, more worth to him than gold.
But he to quite the same - O murdering Man therewhile - 
Pursues me still and traps me oft, with sundry snares and guiles.
Alas, lo now I feel cold fear within my bones,
Which hangs her wings upon my heels, to hasten for the none
My swiftest starting steps, methinks she bids me bide, 
In thickest tufts of coverts close, and so myself to hide.
Ah rueful remedy, so shall I - as it were - 
Even tear my life out of the teeth of hounds which make me fear.
And from those cruel curs, and brainsick bawling tikes,
Which bow foot-hot to follow me, both over hedge and dikes.
Methinks I hear the horn, which rends the restless air,
With shrillest sound of bloody blast, and makes me to despair.
Methinks I see the toil, the tanglings and the stall,
Which are prepared and set full sure, to compass me withal:
Methinks the foster stands full colse in bush or tree,
And takes his level straight and true, methinks he shoots at me.
And hits the harmless Hart, of me unhappy Hart,
Which must needs please him by my death, I may it not start.
Alas and well away, methinks I see the hunt,
Which takes the measure of my slots, where I to tread was wont:
Because I shall not miss, at last to please his mind,
Alas I see him where he seeks my latest lair to find.
He takes my fewmers up, and puts them in his horn,
Alas methinks he leaps for joy, and laughs me to scorn.
Hark, hark, alas give ear, this gear goes well - says he - 
This Hart bears dainty venison, in Prince's dish to be.
Lo now he blows his horn, even at the kennel door,
Alas, alas, he blows a seek, als yet blows he more:
He jeopards and rechats, alas he blows the fall, 
And founds that deadly doleful mote, which I must die withal.
What should the cruel mean? Perhaps he hopes to find,
As many medicines me within to satisfy his mind.
Maybe he seeks to have my suet for himself,
Which sooner heals a merrygald, then 'pothecaries pelf.
- maybe - his joints be numb, as sinews shrunk with cold,
And that he knows my suet will, the same full soon unfold.
- maybe - his wife doth fear to come before by time, 
And in my maw he hopes to find - among the slut and slime - 
A stone to help his wife, that she may bring to light, 
A bloody babe like bloody sire, to put poor Harts to flight:
Perchance with sickness he hath troubled been of late,
And with my marrow thinks to restore his former state.
-maybe - his heart doth quake, and therefore seeks the bone,
Which Huntsmen find within my heart, when I - poor Hart - am gone.
- it may be - that he means my flesh for to present,
Unto his Prince for delicates, such may be his intent. 
Yea, more than this - maybe - he thinks such nouriture,
Will still prolong men's days on earth, since mine so long endure.
But O mischievous man, althoguh I thee outlive,
By due degrees of age unseen, which Nature doth me give:
Must thou therefore procure my death? for to prolong
Thy lingering life in lusty wise? alas thou doest me wrong.
Must I with mine own flesh, his hareful flesh so feed, 
Which me disdains one bit of grass, or corn in time of need?
Alas - Man - do not so, some other beasts go kill,
Which work thy harm by sundry means: and so content thy will.
Which yield thee no such gains - in life - as I renew,
When from my head my stately horns - to thy behoof - I mew.
But since thou art unkind, ungracious and unjust,
Lo here I crave of mighty Gods, which are both good and just:
That Mars mat reign with man, that strife and cruel war,
May set man's murdering mind on work, with many a bloody jar.
That drums with deadly dub, may countervail the blast,
Which they with horns have blown full loud, to make my mind aghast.
That shot as thick as hail, may stand for crossbow shoots,
That cuisses, greaves and such may serve, in stead of hunter's boots.
That girt with siege full sure, they may their toils repent,
That ambuscades stand for nets, which they against me bent.
That when they see a spy, which watches them to trap,
They may remember ring walks made, in harbour me to hap.
That when their busy brains are exercised so,
Harts may lie safe within their lair, and never fear their foe.
But if so chance there be, some dastard dreadful mome,
Whom trumpets cannot well entice, nor call him once from home:
And yet will play the man, in killing harmless Deer, 
I crave of God that such a ghost, and such a fearful fear,
May see Diananakt: and she  - to venge her scorns - 
May soon transform his harmful head, into my harmless horns:
Until his hounds may tear, that Hart of his in twain,
Which thus torments us harmless Harts, and puts our hearts to pain. 

Thus have you an end of so much as I find meet to be translated out of mine author for the hunting of a Hart, wherein I have dealt faithfully for so much as I translated, neither taking anything from him, nor adding anything but that which I have plainly expressed, together with the reasons that moved me thereunto. And that which I have left out is nothing else but certain unseemly verses, which because they are more apt for lascivious minds than to be interlaced among the noble terms of Venery, I thought meet to leave them at large, for such as will read them in French.

An end of the hunting and terms which are used in hunting the Hart.