Up the Thames wyth tha H-Scog

Name:
Location: nigh Loudoun, Engelonde, United Kingdom

Monday, April 10, 2006

De Docendo

Nihil valet, puto, ut conemur ipsi opiniones nostros imprimere in mentes iuvenum; immo, valebit modo docilibus nimis disciplinuosis at lentis, quos malimus durare. Alium genus biliose cunctas opiniones respuet non inventas semetipso. Fortasse recte--antiqui philosophi dicebant notitiam esse meior quando nostris ipsis invenio, nam tunc non docti, sed sapienties vocemur-- sed plus asini quam philosophi tamen qui, se sapientiores credentes maioribus, spernunt quamquam rationem et sententiam moremque provectorum nullatenus respectant.

Ambo una docendi nobis.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Herba Sempiterna (id est, cotidie fumanda)

Whanne Ich was a yonger man, and sojourneth in Espagnye, Ich mette ther a certeyn blak man, a Moor of Berberye, a physik, who was somdel connynge in the lore of herbes. And he did enjoyne the use of an herbe in especial, a puissant streyne of that hempe from which ure shipmen do maken sayles, (and which is hight in the Fransche tonge 'cannavys'), and this sam moorische physik, who was y-clept 'Drey', was wont to rime and endite in the speche of his owne folke, and chaunt as to the beten drumme the vertues of thys same herbe whych the Old Man of the Montagne gaven to his 'Assassynes' in the dayes whan the grettest ensaumples of Chivalrye did maken werre to free Hierosolyma from the Paynim Saracen. And so that Ich might make men in sondrye londes to knowe the rimes of this phyik Dre and to sauf-garde the soften eyres of unlerned ladyes from certeyn baudy matter therin, ich shale rendre his chauntyng rimes into the Latyn tonge:

Fiamus Alti

Ex cunctis nigris
atque moechis
Quisquam fututurus
Quispiam fututurus,
En futuabitur
Ecce futuabitur!

Dicans ambulansque illud
et spuans ego super moechis,
Futue hoc! Cutio amboque;
Altera mentulam equitat,
Altera digitos pedum lingat!
Cum ista scorta amo,
amor abest omnino!
Absunt amplexi et basia...

Y-noughe! Ich may rendre namore this immorale balade! It wolde go poorly with me were myne yonge charges, the Kinges own sones, to taken delite in such ribaudrye. Sufficeth yt to saye, thys herbe serveth both to dispelen melancholye and to maken ladyes and wightes to-geddre yerne to...slepen al night with open ye, as yt were. Yet Ich thee avise-- surfeite of ilke plante causeth one to suffren over-much sloth.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Bloggus mei amici Chauceri nuper conditus me inspiravit dare haec cogitationes humiliores foris. Sed quia minor Chaucere expertus sum in lingua Anglica quam , da mihi ut scribeam Latine.