It longeth to a scollar to speke latyn

Along my meandering way, I’ve stumbled on Vulgaria Stanbrigiana (1519), a little primer of conversational Latin for small boys*:

Septemnis sum. I am seuen yere olde.

Since children were supposed to speak Latin all day long at school (and were beaten for lapses), there is a fairly comprehensive range of things that a small boy might want to say—and a few that one might hope he wouldn’t.

The first lesson, at any rate, could not be plainer:

Good morowe. Good nyght. Good speed. How fares thou. I fare well thanked be god.  Whyder gooest thou. I go to syege [the privy].

Later colloquia arranged their sentences in little dialogues or playlets, which boys were directed to speak vehementer (feelingly). Acting was thought to be a crucial part of learning: Latin merely parroted was empty words. John Brinsley writes, in his Ludus literarius [The Game of Learning] (1612):

“Cause them to vtter euery dialogue liuely, as if they themselues were the persons which did speake in that dialogue, & so in euery other speech, to imagine themselues to haue occasion to vtter the very same things.”

I imagine that the boy Will Shakespeare would have enjoyed those lessons.

But this earlier text is a jumble of sentences, out of which a child could pick story-lines.

Being seven:

Goo hens. Come hyther. Stande styll. Leue thy chattynge. Speke out. Brusshe thy gowne. Tye thy poyntes. Wype thy nose. Snuffe the candell.

At school:

Syt awaye or I shall gyue the a blowe. Thou stoppest my lyght. He hath taken my boke fro me. Thou stynkest. Lende me the copy of thy latyn and I shall gyue it the[e] agayne by and by. The latyn is full of fautes. I haue blotted my book. The chyldren be sterynge about in the maisters absence. Thou pynchest me. Let me alone or I shall complayne on the[e]. Thou art a blabbe. It is euyll with vs whan the mayster apposeth vs. I remembre not my lesson. I am fallen in the maysters conceyte. I was beten this morning. The mayster hath bete me. The mayster gaue me a blowe on the cheke. I fere the mayster. I am wery of study. Wolde god we myght go to playe.

Out of school:

Bend thy bowe. I shall matche the[e] at all games. Thou arte a false knave. Thou lyes. Thou byleues me not. I shall make good that I sayd. Stande out of my waye. He is redy to fyght. If thou wrastle with me I shall laye the[e] on thy backe. Sayst thou this in ernest or in game. Thou mockes me. I am sure thou louest me not. All my felowes hate thy company. He is the veriest cowherde [coward] that euer pyst. Tourde in thy tethe.

Tomorrow:

I haue a sharpe wytte. I had leuer go to my boke than be bete. I shall begyn my grammer on mundaye.

Too little:

I haue dronke a ferthynge worthe of ale. My be[a]rde is not growen.

Between the acres of the rye:

I loue the[e] as my lyfe. Thou shalte haue ony thynge that I haue. Drynke fyrst and I wyll nexte. What part synges thou. Be mery and flee care.

The pangs of love:

Tary me at home tyll I come. I haue taryed for the[e] an hole houre. I am mased in my mynde.

Maidservant:

Wyll thou commaunde me ony servyce. Drawe water. It is almost ten of the clocke. Stoupe down. Tourne the spytte. The meet is rawe. The flesshe is rosted ynough. Laye the table. Set salte and spones. Gyue me breed. Reche me breed. I ete brown brede. He rynseth the pottes. Herken. Fetche me water for my hands. It lyth not in my power. This potte wyll hold no water. I am at my wyttes ende.

Country life:

What countre man arte thou. I am an englysshe man. My fader dwelleth in the countre. I was born in the see cost. I was born in the feldes. I was born in the marres [marsh] countree. I was born in the wodes. The hen sytteth on the egges. The corne rypeth fast. The tree hangeth full of apples. The way renneth full of shepe. The hors trottes. The ayere is full of cloudes.

Pride:

He craketh of his noble actes. My fader is a grete man of landes. He hath all the maners of a gentyl man. My purse is heuy with monye. I lye in a fedder bedd euery nyght. I sate at the table with the mayre [mayor] and the sheryues [sheriffs]. I haue the maystry.

Idleness:

Iack napes maketh a mowe. Malaperte. Thou plays the foole. It is a c[h]yldysshe thynge. He is euer chattynge. I am the worst of all my felowes. I go my waye. My gowne is the worst in all the scole. I lacke a boke. I haue forgete my lesson. It is out of my mynde. He ranne away without leue. For his folysshenes he may were a ba[u]ble.

Misery:

I haue a grete waye to go. The way is slabby. I am wete shodde. He is sowsed in water. I coughed all nyght. My throte is hoors. My nose bledeth. My heed is full of lyce. I am almost beshytten.

Woe:

I was not borne to a fote of lande. My fader hath had a grete losse in the see. He hath taken shyppe. How doth my fader. His face is meruaylously chaunged. He was at the poynt of deth. He dyed sodeynly. I am sory for the deth of my fader. My clothes be blacke. I am faderles and moderles. He wepeth. I am wery of my lyfe. I haue pyte on the[e]. God be here.

Knavery:

Beggars be regged & baudy. There is one at the dore wyll speke with the[e]. He is croke backed. His nose is lyke a shoynge horne. He is dronke with ale. They make a fraye in the strete. What the deuyll does thou here. Thou arte worthy to be hanged. He smote me with a dager. I shall kyll the[e] with my owne knife.

Naught:

He is a kokolde. Thou playest the knaue. Thou hast begyled me. He lay with a harlot al nyght. Thou lokest on me as thou wolde ete me. I beshrowe suche loue.

Nine

* In the very frank vocabulary of body parts (a mannes yerde, the pype in a mannes yerde, the codde, a stone, the nature of a man, the sede of a man), none are female.