Then forth he went unto the mageste

Of king Melizius the mighty conquerour,

Sayeng: O power so hye in dignitie!

O prynce victorious and famous emperour!

Of justynge truely the originall floure;

One Graunde Amoure wolde be acceptable,

In your hye courte for to be tendable.

With all my herte I wyll, quod he, accepte

Hym to my servyce, for he is right worthy:

For unto Doctryne the hye way he kept,

And so from thens to the toure of Chyvalry.

He shall attayne great actes wonderly.

Go on your way, and bryng him fast to me,

For I thinke long him to beholde and se.

And than the good knight Trouth incontinent

Into the chambre so pure soone me lede,

Where sate the king so much benevolent,

In purple clothed, set full of rubyes rede;

And all the flore on which we did tread

Was crystall clere, and the rofe at night

With carbuncles did geve a merveylous lyght.

The walles were hanged with cloth of tyssue,

Broudred with perles and rubies rubicond,

Mixte with emerauds so full of vertue

And brodred above with many a diamonde.

An hevy herte it wolde make jocunde

For to behold the merveylous riches,

The lordship, welth, and the great worthines.

There sate Melezius, in his hye estate,

And over his head was a payre of balaunce;

With his crowne and septer, after the true rate

Of another wordly king for to have governaunce,

In his hand a ball of right great cyrcumstaunce.

Before whome than I did knele adowne,

Sayeng: O Emperour! moost hye of renowne,

I the beseche, of thine haboundaunt grace,

Me to accepte in this courte the for to serve,

So to contynue by longe time and space,

Of chivalry that I may now deserve

The order right, and well it to observe;

For to attayne the high advauntage

Of the enterpryse of my dougty vyage.

Welcome, he sayd, to this court ryal!

Mynerve shall arme you with grete dylygence.

And teche you the feates of armes all;

For she them knoweth by good experyence,

In the olde tyme it was her scyence.

And I my selfe shall gyve you a worthy stede,

Called Galantyse, to helpe you in your nede.

I humbly thanked his grete hyenes;

And so to Mynerve I dyd than applye,

Whiche dyd me teche with syker perfytnes

For to haunt armes ryght well and nobly.

Sapyence me ruled well and prudently;

Thus amonge knyghtes for to just and tourney,

Mynerve me taught in sundry wyse all day.

It was a joyfull and a knyghtly syght,

For to beholde so fayre and good a sorte

Of goodly knyghtes armed clere and bryght,

That I sawe there, whiche dyd me well exorte

Armes to haunte with coragyous comforte:

Mynerve me taught my strokes and defence,

That in short space was no resystence

Agaynst my powre and myghty puyssaunce;

To my wylfull herte was nought impossyble,

I bare my selfe so without doubtaunce

My herte made my courage invyncible,

Of whiche the trouthe was soone intellygyble,

With my behavynge before the preemynence

Of kynge Melezius famous excellence.

Which right anone for dame Minerve sent,

And me also, with sir Trouth to obey.

We thought full litell what the mater ment,

But unto him we toke anone the way,

Entring the chambre so fayre, clere, and gay.

The king us called unto his person,

Sayeng: I wyll Graund Amoure anone

Truly make knight; for the time approcheth

That he must haunt and seke adventure

For La Belle Pucell, as true love requireth.

And first of all began to me discure

The highe order how I shoulde take in cure;

And than anone he gan to expresse

What knighthode was to perfite sekernesse.

Knighthode, he sayd, was first established

The comenwelth in right to defende,

That by the wrong it be not minished;

So every knight did truely condiscende,

For the comynwelth his power to entende

Ageynst all suche rebelles contrarious,

Them to subdue with power victorious!

For knighthode is not in the feates of warre,

As for to fight in quarell right or wronge,

But in a cause which trouth can not defarre;

He ought him selfe for to make sure and stronge

Justice to kepe mixt with mercy amonge;

And no quarell a knight ought to take,

But for a trouth or for the comins sake.

For fyrst, good hope his legge harneys sholde be;

His habergion of perfyte ryghtwysenes;

Gyrde faste wyth the gyrdle of chastite,

His riche placarde should be good besines,

Brandred with almes so full of larges;

The helmet mekenes, and the shelde good fayth;

His swerde Goddes worde, as saynt Poule sayth.

Also true wyddowes he ought to restore

Unto their right for to attayne theyr dower,

And to upholde and mainteyne evermore

The welth of maydens with his myghty power.

And to his soverayne, at every maner hower,

To be redy, true, and eke obeysaunt,

In stable love fixt and not variaunt.

Thus, after this noble and solempne doctryne,

He made me knight, and gave me in charge

Unto these poyntes right low to enclyne,

And to stere well the frayle tombling barge

Over vayne glory whan I sayle at large.

Whan the winde is right, the barge can not fayle,

Unto his purpose so with hardines to sayle.

I dyd well register in my remembraunce

Every thing which he hath to me tolde,

And right anone in good resemblaunce

The kyng I thanked, with courage right bolde,

Of his great grace and giftes many a folde,

Which unto me right openly he shewed,

With golden droppes so lyberally indewed.

I toke my leve of his right hye estate;

And than Mynerve into the hall me brought,

Accompanied by Trouth, my faythfull mate.

Us for to solace ther lacced right nought,

That ony man can printe in his thought;

The knightes all unto their armes went,

To bryng me forward with a true entent.

And Mynerve armed me as she coude devyse,

And brought unto me my fayre barbed stede,

On whome I mounted in all goodly guyse,

With shelde and spere, as nothing to drede

In right to fyght for to attayne my mede.

So with me wente both my greyhoundes twayne,

And good Attendaunce, my verlet certayne.

The good knight Trouth brought me on the way,

Accompanied then of syr Fidelitie,

Wyth haute courage betrapped fayre and gaye

Wyth shyning trappers of curiositie;

And then also there rode forth wyth me

The sturdy knight well named Fortitude,

With the noble veterane syr Consuetude.

And eke syr Justice and syr Mysericorde,

Syr Sapience, with good syr Curteysy;

Wyth famous Nurture, and than syr Concorde

Accompanied me full ryght gentylly

Oute of the castell, ryding ryally;

And dame Minerve, the chevalryous goddes,

Dyd me endue then with harty hardynes.

And whan we came into a goodly playne,

Right of them all I toke my lycence;

Me thought it time that they tourne agayne

Unto the king with all their diligence.

I made mine othe with percing influence,

Unto them all for to remayne full true

In stedfast love, all treason to eschue.

Full loth they were fro me to departe,

Every one of them, as ye may understande;

With salt teres full wofull was my herte,

Whan all on rowe they toke me by the hande.

Adew! they sayd, and grace with you stand,

You for to ayde whan that you do fyght!

And so they turned unto the castell ryght.

And good dame Mynerve unto me then sayd:

Be not adredde of your hye enterpryse;

Be bolde and hardy and nothing afrayde;

And rather deye in ony maner of wyse,

To attayne honour and the lyfe dyspyse,

Than for to lyve and remayne in shame;

For to dye with honour it is a good name.

Fare well! she sayd, and be of good chere;

I must departe, I may no lenger tary;

Ryde on your way, the weder is full clere;

Seke your adventure, and loke you not vary

Frome your hye order by ony contrary.

And therwithall forth on her way she rode,

Ryght so did I, which no longer abode,

With both my greyhoundes and my varlet,

Through the playne and into wyldernes,

And so alofte amonge the hylles greate,

Tyll it was nyght so thicke of darkenes

That of constraynt of very werynes

We lyght adowne, under an hyll syde,

Unto the day to rest us there that tyde.

And whan my page my helmet unlaced,

He layde it downe underneth my hede,

And to his legge he my stede enbraced

To grase about while on the grase he fed;

And than also his horse in lyke stede

With both our greyhoundes lyeng us nere by;

And slouthe our hedes had caught so sodaynly,

That all the nyght we slepte in good reste,

Tyll agaynst day began to nese and cry

My stede Galantyse with a roryng breste,

And eke began to stampe full marveylously;

Whose hye courage awaked us wonderly,

And ryght anone we kast up our eyes,

Beholdyng above the fayre crystall skyes.

Seynge the cloudes rayed fayre and rede

Of Phebus rysinge in the orient,

And Aurora her golden bemes sprede

About the ayre clerely refulgent,

Withouten mysty blacke encombremente,

Up I arose and also my page,

Makyng us redy for to take our vyage.

And so forth we rode, tyll we sawe aferre

To us came rydyng, on a lytell nagge,

A folysshe dwarfe, nothynge for the warre,

With a hood, a bell, a foxtayle, and a bagge;

In a pyed cote he rode brygge a bragge;

And whan that he unto us drewe nye,

I behelde his body and his visnamy.

His head was greate, beteled was his browes,

Hys eyen holow, and his nose croked;

His bryes brystled truely lyke a sowes;

His chekes here, and God wote he loked

Full lyke an ape, here and there he toted

With a pyed berde and hangyng lyppes grete,

And every tothe as blacke as ony gete.

His necke shorte, his sholders stode awry,

His breste fatte and bolne in the wast;

His armes great, with fyngers crokedly;

His legges kewed; he rode to me fast,

Full lyke a patron to be shaped in hast.

Good even, he sayd, and have good day,

If that it lyke you for to ryde merely.

Welcome, I sayde; I praye the now tell

Me what thou arte and where thou dost dwell?

Sothelyche, quod he, whan Icham in Kent

At home Icham; though I be hether sente,

Icham a gentylman of much noble kynne,

Though Iche be clad in a knaves skynne.

For there was one called Peter Pratefast,

That in all hys lyfe spake no worde in waste;

He wedde a wyfe that was called Maude.

I trowe, quod I, she was a gorgious baude.

Thou lyest, quod he, she was gentyl and good,

She gave her husbande many a furde hode,

And at his melys, without any mys,

She wolde him serve in clenly wyse ywys.

God love her soule as she loved clennes,

And kepe her dysshes from al foulnes.

Whan she lacketh cloutes, without any fayle

She wyped her disshes wyth her dogges tayle.

And they had yssue Sym Sadle-gander,

That for a wyfe in all the worlde did wander,

Tyll at the last, in the wynters nyght,

By Temmes he sayled, aryved by ryght

Amonge the nunnes of the grene cote.

He wente to lande out of his prety bote,

And wedde there one that was comen anewe:

He thought her stable, and fayfthfull, and trewe.

Her name was Betres, that so clenly was,

That no fylthe by her in any wyse shoulde passe.

* * * * *

* * * *

And betwene them bothe they did get a sonne,

Whiche was my father, that in Kente did wonne.

His name was Davy Dronken-nole,

He never dranke but in a fayre blacke boule.

He toke a wyfe that was very fayre,

And gate me on her for to be his ayre.

Her name was Alyson, she loved nought elles

But ever more to rynge her blacke belles.

Now are they deade all, so mote I well thryve,

Excepte my selfe Godfray Gobelive,

Whiche rode about a wyfe me to seke,

But I can finde none that is good and meke;

For all are shrewes in the world aboute,

I coude never mete with none other route;

For some develles wyll their husbandes bete,

And tho that can not, they wyll never let

Their tongues cease, but gyve thre wordes for one,

Fy on them all! I wyll of them have none:

Who loveth any for to make hym sadde,

I wene that he become worse than madde.

They are not stedfast nothyng in their mynde,

But alway tornyng lyke a blaste of wynde.

For let a man love them never so wele,

They will hym love agayne never a dele.

For though a man all his lyfe certayne

Unto her sue to have release of payne,

And at the last she on hym do rewe,

If by fortune there come another newe,

The first shall be clene out of her favoure.

Recorde of Creseyd and of Troylus the doloure.

They are so subtyll and so false of kynde,

There can no man wade beyonde their mynde.

Was not Aristotle for all his clergy,

For a woman rapt in love so marveylously,

That all his connyng he had sone forgotten.

This unhap love had his mynde so broken,

That evermore the salte teres downe hayled

Whan the chaunce of love he hymselfe bewayled.

Aferde he was of the true love to breke,

For sayng nay whan he therof should speke;

Tyll of constraynt of wofull hevynes,

For to have remedy of his sore sekenes,

Whan he her spyed ryght secrete alone,

Unto her he wente and made all his mone.

Alas! he sayd, the cause of my wo,

Myne only lady and maystres also,

Whose goodly beaute hath my harte enrached,

With fervent love and fyry lemes entached,

Wherfore take pyte of the paynfull sorowe

Of me your servaunt both even and morowe.

She stode ryght styll, and hearde what he sayde:

Alas! quod she, be ye no more dismayed,

For I am content to fulfill your will

In every maner, be it good or ill,

Of this condicion; that ye shall release

Me first of my wo and great distresse;

For I my selfe have thought many a daye

To you to speake, but for feare of a nay

I durst never of the matter meve

Unto your person, lest it should you greve.

Nay, nay, quod he, with all my whole entente,

I shall obeye to your commaundement.

Well then, quod she, I shall you nowe tell

Howe the case standeth, truely, every dele:

For you knowe well that some women do long

After nyce thynges, be it ryght or wrong.

Ryght so must I upon your backe nowe ryde,

In your mouthe also a brydle you to guyde.

And so a brydle she put in his mouthe,

Upon his backe she rode both north and south,

About a chamber as some clarkes wene,

Of many persones it was openly sene!

Lo! what is love, that can so sore blynde

A philosopher to bryng hym out of kynde?

For love doth passe any maner of thyng,

It is harde and privy in workyng.

So on the grounde Aristotle crept,

And in his teeth she long the brydle kept,

Till she therof had inough her fyll;

And yet for this he never had his wyll.

She dyd nothing but for to mocke and scorne

This true lover whiche was for love forlorne:

But when he knewe the poynt of the case,

The fyry angre dyde hys herte enbrace,

That he him selfe dyd anone well knowe,

His angre dyd his love so overthrowe,

And ryght anone, as some poets wryte,

He the gret mockage dyd her well acquyte.

Dyd not a woman the famouse Vyrgyle

By her greate fraude full craftely begyle?

For on a day, for hys owne dysporte,

To the court of Rome he gan to resorte,

Amonge the ladyes the tyme for to passe;

Tyl at the last, lyke Phebus in the glasse,

So dyd a lady wyth her beaute clere

Shyne throughe his hert wyth suche love so dere,

That of great force he must nedes obey,

She of his mynde bare bothe the locke and the kay:

So was his hart set upon a fyre

Wyth fervent love to attayne hys desyre.

She had him caught in suche a wyly snare,

Great was his payne and muche more his care,

To fynde a tyme whan it should be meved

To her of love and he nothynge repreved.

Thus every day, by ymagynacyon,

In his mynde was suche perturbacyon,

And at the last he had found a tyme

Hym thought to speke, and unto hym no cryme.

Mercy! lady, nowe, in all humble wyse,

To her he sayd: for yf ye me dyspyse

So hath your beaute my true hart aryed,

It is no mervayle thoughe I be afrayde

To you to speake it, that you deny

My purpose truely I am marde utterly.

So do I love now wyth all my heart entere,

Wyth inwarde care I by your beauty dere,

I must abyde wyth all my hole entente

Of lyfe or death your onely judgement.

Wyth fayned eares of perfyte audyence

She did him here, gyvyng this sentence:

Vyrgyl, she sayd, I wolde fayne you ease

Of your trouble, and of your great disease;

But I wote not howe that it should be,

Without tournynge us to great dyshoneste;

If it be knowen, than bothe you and I

Shall be reheited at full shamefully.

But what for that? I have me bethought

A praty craft by me shalbe wrought.

Ye knowe my chambre joyneth to a wall,

Beynge right hyghe and a wyndowe wythall.

Soone at nyght, when all folke be at reast.

I shall take a basket as me thynketh beast,

And therto I shall a longe corde well tye,

And from the wyndowe let it downe pryvely.

Right so, whan it is downe on the grounde,

Ye may well entre in it, both hole and sound,

And my two maydens the whiche secrete be

Shall anone helpe to hale you up with me.

Lo! in this wyse you may have ryght well

Your owne desyre in short space every deel.

At xi. of the clocke, in the nyght so darke,

They did appoynt for to fulfyll this worke.

He often thanked her gentlines,

And so departed with great gladnes;

And so he went unto his study,

Passyng the tyme himselfe full merely,

Tyll that the clocke did strike aleven,

Then to the wall he went full even,

And founde the basket at the grounde already,

And entred into it full sodaynly,

Waggyng the rope, which the lady espied,

Whiche to the wyndowe ryght anone her hyed.

With her two maydens she did him up wynde,

Amiddes the wall, and left hym there behynde,

That was fyve fadom and more from the grounde.

When him selfe in suche a case he founde,

Alas! he sayde, myne owne lady, save

Myne honestye, and what ye list to have,

Ye shall have it at your owne desire.

Nowe wynde me up, my hart is on fyre.

Thou shalt, quod she, in that place abyde,

That all the cytie so ryght long and wyde

May the beholde and the matter knowe,

For myne honestie, and thy shame, I trowe.

So there he hong tyll noone of the daye,

That every persone whiche went by the waye

Myght hym well se and also beholde,

And unto them the very cause she tolde.

Lo, howe with shame she her love rewarded.

His payne and sorowe she nothyng regarded;

Thus at the last he adowne was brought,

Replete with shame, it vayleth hym ryght nought.

Thus with great anger he his love confounded,

Healyng the stroke whiche that she hath wounded.

And by his craft he in Rome did drenche

Every fyre for he left none to quenche,

And towarde Rome a great circuite aboute,

There was no fyre that was un-put-out.

* * * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * * *

* * * * *

Thus all the cytie upon her did wonder,

For perfite sorowe her harte was nere asunder;

And thus Vyrgyle, with crafty subtilnes,

Rewarded her falshode and doublenes.

All this I tell though that I be a fole,

To the, yong knight, for thou maist go to schole,

In tyme commyng of true love to learne.

Beware of that for thou canst not decerne

Thy ladies mynde: though that she speake the fayre,

Her harte is false, she wyll no truthe repayre.

Nay, quod I, they are not all disposed

So for to do as ye have here disclosed.

Aha! quod he, I trowe well ye be

A true lover: so mote I thrive and the,

Let not thy lady of thy harte be rother;

When thou art gone, she wyll sone have another.

Thus forth we rode tyll we sawe afarre

A royall tower as bryght as any starre,

To whiche we rode as fast as we myght.

When we came there, adowne my stede I lyght,

So dyd this Godfrey Gobilive also;

Into the temple after me gan go.

There sate dame Venus and Cupide her sonne,

Whiche had their parliament ryght newly begone.

To redresse lovers of their payne and wo,

Whiche in the temple did walke to and fro.

And every one his byll did present

Before Venus in her hyghe parliament.

The temple of her royall consistory

Was walled all about with yvory,

All of golde, like a place solacious,

The roufe was made of knottes curious.

I can nothing extende the goodlines

Of her temple, so much of ryches.

This Godfrey Gobilyve went lightly

Unto dame Sapience, the secretary,

That did him make this supplication

To the goddesse Venus with brevacion:

Redresse my payne of mortall heavines;

I did once woe an olde mayden ryche

A foule thefe, an olde wydred wiche.

Fayre mayde, I sayd, will ye me have?

Nay sir, so God me kepe and save!

For you are evill favoured and also ugly,

I am the worse to se your visnamy;

Yet was she fouler many an hundred folde

Then I my selfe, as ye may well beholde.

And therewithall he caused to depaynte

His face and hers, all under his complaynte.

And to Venus he made deliveraunce

Of his complaint by a short circumstaunce;

Whiche ryght anone, when she had it sene,

Began to laughe with all the courte I wene.

Lo here the fygures of them both certayne,

Judge whiche is best favoured of them twayne.

Thus Godfrey Gobilyve did make such a sporte,

That many lovers to hym did resorte;

When I sawe tyme I went to Sapience,

Shewyng to her with all my diligence

Howe that my hart by Venus was trapt,

With a snare of love so prively bewrapt;

And in her tower to have a dwellyng place,

I seke adventures to attayne her grace.

Her name, quod I, La Bell Pucell is,

Both east and west she is well knowen ywys:

And my name, La Graunde Amoure is called,

Whose harte with payne she all about hath walled

With her beautie, whiche dame Nature create,

Above all other in most hygh estate.

Well, sayde Sapience, I thinke in my mynde

Her love and favoure you shall attayne by kynde;

And I wyll drawe to you incontinent.

All your complaynt, as is convenient

Unto dame Venus, to se directly

For your payne and sorowe sone a remedy.

She drewe my pyteous lamentacion,

Accordyng to this supplication:

O, Venus! lady, and excellent goddesse,

O celestiall starre! havyng the soverayntie

Above all other starres as lady and princes,

As is according unto your deitie;

Pleaseth it nowe your great benignitie

Unto my complaynt for to geve audience,

Whiche burne in love with pearcyng vyolence.

For so it happened that the lady Fame

Did with me mete, and gan to expresse

Of a fayre lady whiche had unto name

La Bell Pucel, come of hye noblesse;

Whose beautie cleare and comely goodlines

From day to day doth ryght well reuenue,

With grace brydled and with great vertue.

She tolde me of her fayre habitation,

And of the wayes therto full daungerous;

Her swete report gave me exhortation

Unto my herte for to be courigious,

To passe the passage harde and troublous;

And to bring me out of great encumbraunce,

She me delyvered both Grace and Governaunce.

So forth we went to the toure of Science,

For to attayne in every artike poole.

And first Doctryne by good experience

Unto dame Grammer did sette me to scoole,

Of mysty ignoraunce to oppres the dole;

And so I ascended unto dame Logyke,

And after her unto lusty Rethorike.

Tyll at the last, at a feast solemply

To a temple I went, dame Musike to heare

Play on her organs with swete armony;

But than on lofte I saw to me appeare

The floure of comforte, the sterre of vertue clere,

Whose beaute bright into my herte did passe,

Lyke as fayre Phebus doth shyne in the glasse.

So was my herte by the stroke of love

With sorow prest, and with mortall payne;

That unneth I myght from the place remove,

Where as I stode I was so take certayne,

Yet up I loked to se her agayne,

And at aventure with a sory moode,

Up than I went where as her person stode.

And first of all my herte gan to lerne

Right well to register in remembraunce,

How that her beautie I might than decerne,

From top to to endued with pleasaunce,

Which I shall shew withouten variaunce;

Her shining here so properly she dresses

Alofe her forehed with fayre golden tresses.

Her forehead stepe, with fayre browes ybent,

Her eyen gray, her nose streyght and fayre,

In her whyte chekes the fayre bloud it went

As among the whyte the rede to repayre:

Her mouth right small, her breth swete of ayre,

Her lyppes softe and ruddy as a rose,

No hert on lyve but it wold him appose.

Wyth a lyttle pytte in her well-favored chynne;

Her necke longe as whyte as ony lylly,

With vaynes blew in which the blode ran inne;

Her paypes round and therto right prety;

Her armes sclender and of goodly body;

Her fingers small and therto right longe,

White as the milke, with blew vaynes among.

Her fete proper, she gartered well her hose,

I never saw so swete a creature;

Nothing she lacketh as I do suppose,

That is longing to fayre dame Nature;

Yet more over her countenaunce so pure,

So swete, so lovely, wold my hert inspyre,

Wyth fervent love to attayne his desyre.

But what for her maners passeth all,

She is both gentyll, good, and vertuous;

Alas! what fortune did me to her call

Without that she be to me piteous?

With her so fettered in paynes dolorous,

Alas! shall pite be from her exyled,

Which all vertues hath so undefiled?

Thus in my mynde whan I had engraved

Her goodly countenaunce and fayre figure,

It was no wonder that I was amased,

My herte and minde she had so tane in cure.

Nothing of love I durst to her discure;

Yet for bicause I was in her presence,

I toke acquaintaunce of her excellence.

My herte was drenched in great sorow depe,

Though outwardly my countenaunce was lyght;

The inward wo into my hert did crepe,

To hide my payne it was great force and myght.

Thus her swete beaute with a soden sight

My hert hath wounded, which much nedes obey

Unto such a sorow, alas, welawaye!

For she is gone, and departed right ferre,

In her countre where she doth abyde;

She is now gone, the fayre shining sterre!

O lady Venus! I pray the provide

That I may after at the morow tide,

And by the way, with hert rigorious,

To subdue mine enemies contrarious.

And yet thy grace moost humbly I pray,

To send thy sonne lytle Cupide before,

With loving letters as fast as thou may,

That she may know somwhat of my paynes sore,

Which for her sake I suffer evermore.

Now, lady Venus, with my hole intent

Of lyfe or death I byde the judgement.

Well than, sayd Venus, I have perseveraunce

That you know somwhat of mighty power

Which to my court sue for my quayntaunce,

To have release of your great paynes sower.

Abyde a whyle, ye must tary the hower;

The time renneth toward right fast:

Joy cometh after whan the sorow is past.

Alas! I sayd, who is fettered in chaynes

He thinketh long after delyveracion

Of his great wo and eke mortall paynes;

For who abideth paynfull penaunce

Thinketh a short whyle a longe contynuaunce;

Who may not speke with her he loveth best,

It is no wonder though he take no rest.

Abyde, quod she; you must a whyle yet tary,

Though to have comfort ye right long do thinke:

I shall provide for you a lectuary,

Which after sorow into your herte shall sinke.

Though you be brought now unto dethes drynke,

Yet drede exile and lyve in hope and trust,

For at the last you shall attayne your lust.

And specially I gyve to you a charge

To fyxe your love, for to be true and stable

Upon your lady, and not to fle at large

As in sundry wise for to be variable,

In corrupt thoughtes vyle and culpable;

Prepence nothing unto her dishonesty,

For love dishonest hath no certaynte.

And sithen that I was cause you be gone

Fyrst for to love, I shall a letter make

Unto your lady, and send it by my sonne,

Lytle Cupyde, that shall it to her take,

That she your sorow may detray or slake.

Her harded herte it shall well revolve,

Wyth pyteous wordes that shall it dissolve.

And right anon, as the mater foloweth,

She caused Sapyence a letter to wryte;

Lo! what her favour unto me avayleth

Whan for my selfe she did so well indite,

As I shall shew in a short respyte

The gentyll fourme and tenour of her letter,

To spede my cause for to attayne the better.

Right gentyll herte of grene flouring age,

The sterre of beute and of famous porte,

Consyder well that your lusty courage

Age of his cours must at the last transporte:

Now trouth of his right dooth our selfe exhorte

That you your youth in ydelnes wyll spende,

Wythouten pleasure to bryng it to an ende.

What was the cause of your creacion,

But man to love, the world to multeply?

As to sow the sede of generacion,

Wyth fervent love so well conveniently,

The cause of love engendreth perfytely,

Upon an entent of dame Nature,

Which you have made so fayre a creature.

Than of dame Nature what is the entent

But to accomplyshe her fayre sede to sow?

In such a place as is convenient,

To Gods pleasure, for to increase and grow.

The kinde of her ye may not overthrow:

Say what ye lyst, ye can nothing deny,

But otherwhyle ye thinke full prively

What the man is, and what he can do

Of chambre werke, as nature can agre,

Though by experience ye know nothing therto,

Yet oft ye muse, and thinke what it may be.

Nature provoketh of her strong degre,

You so to as hath bene her olde guyse;

Why wyll you than the true love dispyse?

In our court there is a byll presented

By Graund Amour, whose hert in dures

You fast have fettered, not to be absented

Frome your person with mortall hevynes:

His hert and service, with all gentylnes,

He to you oweth, as to be obedient

For to fulfyll your swete commaundement.

What you avayleth your beaute so fayre,

Your lusty youth and your gentill countenaunce,

Without that you in your minde will repayre

It for to spend in joye and plesaunce?

To folow the trace of dame Natures daunce;

And thus in doing you shall your servaunt hele,

Of his disease and hurte you never a dele.

One must you love, it can not be denied,

For harde it is to voyde you of the chaunce

Than to love him best that you have so arayed

Wyth fyry chaynes fettered in penaunce;

For he is redy without doubtaunce

In every thing for to fulfyll your wyll,

And as ye lyst ye may him save or spyll.

Alas! what payne and mortall wo

Were it to you and you were in lyke cace,

Wyth him dismayde which you have rayed so;

Wold you not than thinke it a longe space

In his swete herte to have a dwellyng place?

Than in your minde you may revolve that he

Moost longe do thinke that joyfull day to se.

Is not he yonge, both wyse and lusty,

And eke descended of the gentyll lyne?

What wyll you have more of him truely,

Than you to serve as true love wyll inclyne?

But, as I thinke, you do now determine

To fyxe your minde for worldly treasure,

Though in your youth ye lese your pleasure.

Alas! remember first your beaute,

Your youth, your courage, and your tender herte;

What payne hereafter it may to you be

Whan you lacke that which is true lovers deserte;

I tell you this your selfe to converte,

For lytle know ye of this payne ywys,

To lyve with him in whome no pleasure is.

Where that is love, there can be no lacke;

Fye on that love for the land or substaunce,

For it must nedes right soone abacke

Whan that youth hath no joye nor pleasaunce

In the party with natures suffisaunce;

Than wyll you, for the sinne of averiche,

Unto your youth do such a prejudice?

Thus, sithen Nature hath you well indued

With so much beaute; and dame Grace also

Your vertuous maner hath so well renued;

Exyle Disdayne and let her from you go,

And also Straungenes, and to love the fo;

And let no covetous your true herte subdue,

But that in joye you may your youth ensue.