John Skelton was poet laureate at a time when the title simply implied the receipt of a higher degree. He received three – the first, in rhetoric, awarded by Oxford University in 1488. He was court poet to Henry VII, and, later, tutor to the young prince who would be Henry VIII. Between royal appointments, he served a spell as rector of Diss, and his scathing disillusion with the Catholic clergy informs this week's poem, Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale. Like most of his poetry, it's pervaded by emotional excitement, obsessive rhyming, informal rhythm and tongue-twisting word play.
Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale is thought to be a dialogue poem "on the uncertain basis of the original musical setting for three voices," says the note in my old Norton Anthology. While the minor role of the third voice remains to be guessed, and might be limited to the refrain, James Foder, named in line 10, is clearly the speaker of lines 4, 8-9, 17 and 22-24. Margery, more mouthy than mannerly, otherwise dominates the conversation. We're immediately plunged into her feisty rebuff to James, leaving us in no doubt as to her and John Skelton's view of young clergymen: "These wanton clerks be nice alway" – not!
The "tumbling metre" gives us a bumpy ride, despite the fact that Skelton is favouring a longer, four-stressed line than is his usual practice. Each stanza has five lines with the same rhyme, heavily emphasising the physicality of the action. The rustic setting is evident in the diction: James announces that he loves Margery "an whole cart-load" and "straw" is twice used in a derogatory sense. Margery declares herself "no hackney" (no ordinary riding-horse) and advises her unmannerly suitor to "watch a bull". There's not much doubt about what this euphemism suppresses. "Rod" is clearly a deliberate pun.
What seems at first like jolly banter turns to assault in the third stanza. The very end-rhymes seem to gang up menacingly, and Margery's increasingly vehement protests are fruitless. Between stanzas three and four, James evidently gets his way with her. "The best cheap flesh that ever I bought" lays bare the young cleric's moral ugliness. When he says "ye cost me nought" he means that she has cost him nothing in terms of responsibility. Promptly, he's no longer interested, and she's invoking Christ's love and demanding marriage: "Wed me, or else I die for thought."
On the face of it, Skelton's satire targets Margery no less than the clerics. Her airs and graces, mockingly chanted in each refrain's final line, seem as hypocritical as her pursuers' Christianity. Perhaps her nickname is a reference to posset, a supposedly medicinal drink made of hot milk laced with wine or ale. Margery isn't milky-pure, and she may be a tease. She gives way to James, and it's possible she charges for her favours. But what choice does she have?
Lewis Turco explains why the subject might have had personal resonance for Skelton. The poet-priest had a common-law wife he was forbidden to marry, since the Catholic clergy had to take a vow of celibacy. This vow, however, did not necessarily include chastity. Margery's claim that she will "die for thought" suggests the opposite: as the result of a thoughtless law, inviting thoughtless male behaviour, she faces poverty, prostitution, and possibly even death.
Skelton's characters are wonderfully real. The minor players are brought to life by their very names. Speech-rhythms evoke changing moods, and create an impression of literal movement. You can almost see Margery spinning out of James's clutch as she yells, "Tilly, vally, straw, let be I say!" The rage and brutality in the poem cohabit with a certain lust for the life of the senses, and certainly a lust for language. Our Laureate of rhetoric knows how to work with the torsion of argument, but his ultimate triumph as a poet is that his metrical feet are on the ground – and that ground is the rich soil of the English vernacular.
Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale
Ay, beshrew you! By my fay,
These wanton clerks be nice alway!
Avaunt, avaunt, my popinjay!
What, will ye do nothing but play?
Tilly, vally, straw, let be I say!
Gup, Christian Clout, gup, Jack of the Vale!
With Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale.
By God, ye be a pretty pode,
And I love you an whole cart-load.
Straw, James Foder, ye play the fode,
I am no hackney for your rod:
Go watch a bull, your back is broad!
Gup, Christian Clout, gup, Jack of the Vale!
With Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale.
Ywis ye deal uncourteously;
What, would ye frumple me? Now fy!
What, and ye shall be my pigesnye?
By Christ, ye shall not, no hardely:
I will not be japed bodily!
Gup, Christian Clout, gup, Jack of the Vale!
With Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale.
Walk forth your way, ye cost me nought;
Now I have found what I have sought:
The best cheap flesh that ever I bought.
Yet, for His love that all hath wrought,
Wed me, or else I die for thought.
Gup, Christian Clout, your breath is stale!
Go, Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale!
Gup, Christina Clout, gup, Jack of the Vale!
With Mannerly Margery Milk and Ale.
Glossay
Beshrew – curse
Fay – faith
Nice – finicky, refined
Pode – toad
Fode – deceiver
Pigesnye – pet
Japed – fooled with
Gup – get along with you (probably contraction of "go" and "up").