For of I love the goddes dame Venus,

Right well to know that in the world is none

That unto you shall be more joyous

Than Graund Amour, that loveth you alone;

Sith he so did, it is many dayes agone.

Who ever saw a fayre yong hart so harde,

Which for her sake wolde se her true love mard?

And so shall he, without ye take good hede,

If it so be ye be cause of the same,

For love with deth wyll ye reward his mede?

And if ye do ye be to muche to blame.

To love unloved ye know it is no game:

Wherfore, me thinke, ye can do no lesse

But with your love his paynes to redres.

If ye do not, this may be his songe;

Wo worth the time that ever he you met;

Wo worth your hert so doing him wrong;

Wo worth the houre that his true herte was set;

Wo worth dysdayne that wold his purpose let;

Wo worth the flour that can do no bote;

Wo worth you that perst him at the route.

Wo worth my love, the cause of my sorow;

Wo worth my lady that wyll not it releace;

Wo worth fortune both even and morow;

Wo worth trouble that shall have no peace;

Wo worth cruelte that may never cease;

Wo worth youth that wyll not pitie have;

Wo worth her that wyll not her love save;

Wo worth the trust without assuraunce;

Wo worth love rewarded with hate;

Wo worth love replete with variaunce;

Wo worth love without a frendly mate;

Wo worth the herte with love at debate;

Wo worth the beaute which toke me in snare;

Wo worth the hert that wyll not cease my care;

Wo worth her maners and her goodlynes;

Wo worth her eyes so clere and amyable;

Wo worth such cause of my great sicknes;

Wo worth pite on her not tendable;

Wo worth her minde in disdayne so stable;

Wo worth her that hath me fettered fast;

And wo worth love that I do spend in wast.

Wherefore of right I pray you to remembre

All that I wryte unto you right now:

How your true love is of age but tendre,

His umble service we pray you alow:

And he him selfe evermore emprowe,

You for to please and give the soveraynte,

How can you have a more true love than he?

And fare ye well: there is no more to say;

Under our signet, in our court ryall,

Of September the two and twenty day.

She closed the letter, and to her did call

Cupyde her sonne, so dere and speciall,

Commaunding him, as fast as he myght,

To La Belle Pucell for to take his flyght.

So did Cupyde with the letter flye

Unto La Belle Pucelles dominacion,

There that he spedde full well and wonderly,

As I shall after make relacion.

But to my matter with brevyacion:

A turtle I offred for to magnefy

Dame Venus hye estate to glorify.

She me exhorted for to be right hardy,

Forth on travayle, and to drede nothing;

I toke my leve of her full humbly,

And on my way as I was riding

This Godfrey Gobelyve came rennyng,

Wyth his little nagge, and cryed: tary! tary!

For I wyll come and bere you company.

And for because that I was than full sadde

And by the way he made me good game;

To have his company I was somwhat gladde.

I was not proude, I toke of him no shame:

He came to me and sayd: Ye are to blame

So to ryde louring for a womans sake,

Unto the devyll I do them all betake.

They be not stedfast, but chaunge as the mone;

Whan one is gone, they love another sone.

Who that is single and wyll have a wyfe,

Right out of joy he shall be brought in stryfe.

Thus whan Godfrey did so mery make,

There did a lady us sone overtake,

And in her hand she had a knotted whyp;

At every yerte she made Godfrey to skyppe.

Alas! he sayd, that ever I was borne;

Now am I take for all my mocke and scorne!

I loked about whan that I herde hym crye,

Seing this lady on her palfray ryde hye:

Madame, I sayde, I pray you me tell

Your proper name, and where that you dwell?

My name, quod she, is called Correccion;

And the toure of Chastite is my mancyon.

This strong thefe, called False Reporte,

Wyth Vylayne Courage, and an other sorte

And vyle perlers False Conjecture,

All these I had in pryson full sure.

But this False Reporte hath broken pryson,

With his subtyl crafte and evyl treason,

And this journey prively to spede

He hath clad him in this fooles wede.

Now have I answered you your question,

And I pray you of a lyke solucion;

You seme, me thinke, for to be a knight;

I pray you first to tell me your name aryght.

My name, quod I, is La Graund Amour.

A! well, quod she, you are the perfite floure

Of al true lovers, as I do wel know;

You shall attayne La Belle Pucell, I trow.

I know right well ye are adventurous,

Onward your way to the toure peryllous;

And for as much as the night is nere,

I humbly pray you for to take the chere

That I may make you in my toure this night:

It is here by, you shall of it have a sight.

And I pray you to helpe me to bynde

This False Reporte, as you should do by kynde.

What! Godfrey, quod I, wyll you chaunge your name?

Nay, nay, quod he, it was for no shame;

But, alas! for wo, that she hath me taken!

I must obey, it can not be forsaken.

His fete were fettered underneth his nagge,

And bound his handes behinde to his bagge;

Thus Correction, with her whyp did dryve

The litle nagge wyth Godfrey Gobelyve

Tyll at the last we gan to approche

Her riall tour upon a craggy roche.

The night was come, for it was right late;

Yet right anone we came unto the gate,

Where we were let in by dame Measure,

That was a fayre and a goodly creature.

And so Correccion brought me to the hall,

Of gete well wrought, glased with cristall;

The rofe was golde, and amiddes was set

A carbuncle that was large and great,

Whose vertue clere in the hall so bryght

About did cast a great mervaylous lyght.

So forth we went unto a chamber fayre,

Where many ladies did them selfe repayre,

And at our coming than incontinent

They welcomed us as was convenient.

But of Correccyon they were very glad,

Which False Reporte agayne take had.

There was quene Phantasyle with Penalape,

Quene Helayne and quene Menelape,

Quene Ythesile and quene Prosperine,

The lady Meduse and yong Polixine;

With many mo that I do not rehearse:

My time is short, I must from them reverse.

And dame Correccion into a chambre ledde

Me right anone, for to go to my bedde.

What nede I shew of my great chere and rest?

I wanted nought, but had all of the best.

And so I slept tyll that Aurora clere

Began to shyne amiddes the golden spere.

Than up I rose, and my verlet also,

Which made me redy, and to my stede did go;

And dame Correccion, at the morow tyde,

Did me entreat a while to abyde;

And right anone my breakfast was brought,

To make me chere there wanted right nought.

And after this, dame Correccion

Did lede me to a mervaylous dongen:

And first she led me to the upper ward,

Where Shamefastnes did us well regarde,

For he was gayler, and had at his charge

Every rebell not for to go at large.

In the first ward there wente to and fro

Both men and women might no ferther go,

But yet they hoped for to have releve

Of theyr imprison which did them so greve.

These prisoners, whan true love was meved,

They wold dryve of and release the greved;

And for this cause, by egal jugement,

Lyke as they did, here hath they punishment.

And Shamefastnes lower did us bring

Where we saw men in great tormenting,

With many ladies, that their mouthes gagged;

And Fales Reporte on me his head wagged.

Than right anone a lady gan to scrape

His furred tonge, that he cryed lyke an ape;

And, vyle peller, in lykewyse also,

His tonge was scraped that he suffered wo;

And yet we went into a depe vale,

Where I saw men that were in great bale,

In holly bushes they did hange aloft,

Theyr hedes downeward for to fall unsofte;

And two ladyes dyde theyr bodyes bete,

With knotted whyppes in the flesshe to frete,

That the desyre it sholde sone aswage

And specyally of the Vylayne Courage.

These men, with sugred mouthes so eloquente,

A maydens herte coude ryght sone relente,

And these yonge madens for to take in snare

They fayne greate wo and for to suffer care:

The folyshe maydens dyd byleve they smarted,

That to theyr wyll the men them converted:

Thus whan that they had them so begyled,

And with theyr fraude these maydens defyled,

They cast them of; they toke no lenger kepe;

Go where ye lyst, though they crye and wepe;

Therfore these ladyes, wyth theyr whyppes harde,

Theyr bodyes bete that theyr bodyes had marde.

And every man as he hath deserved

A payne there is whiche is for hym observed.

Thus whan I had all the pryson sene,

With the tourmente of many a one I wene,

And forthe we wente agayne to the hall;

My stede was redy and brought to the wall,

And of the ladyes clere in excellence

I toke my leve, with all due reverence,

And thanked Correccyon, with my herte entere,

Of my repose and of her lovynge chere.

To me she sayd: Remembre you well

Of the swete beaute of La Belle Pucell;

Whan you her herte in fetters have chayned,

Let her have yours in lykewyse retayned;

Loke that your herte, your worde, and countenaunce,

Agre all in one without varyaunce.

Yf she for pyte do release your payne,

Consyder it and love her best agayne.

Be true and secrete, and make none advaunte

Whan you of love have a perfyte graunte.

And if ye wyll come unto your wyll,

Both here and se and than holde you styll.

Drede you nothing, but take a good herte,

For right sone after you from hens departe

Right high adventures unto you shall fall.

In tyme of fight unto your mind than call,

If you prevayle you shall attayne the fame

Of hye honour to certify the same.

And therwith I lyght upon my stede.

Madame, I sayd, I pray God do you mede!

Farewell! she sayd, for you must now hens,

Adue, quod I, with all my diligens.

Whan golden Phebus in the Capricorne

Gan to ascend fast unto Aquary,

And Janus Bifrus the crowne had wone

With his frosty berd in January;

Whan clere Diana joyned with Mercury,

The cristall ayre and assured firmanent

Were all depured without encumbrement.

Forth than I rode, at myne owne adventure,

Over the mountaynes and the craggy roche;

To beholde the countrees I had great pleasure,

Where corall growed by right hye flackes;

And the popyngayes in the tre toppes;

Than as I rode I sawe me beforne

Besyde a welle hange both a shelde and horne.

Whan I came there, adowne my stede I lyght,

And the fayre bugle I right well behelde;

Blasynge the armes as well as I myghte

That was so graven upon the goodly shelde;

Fyrst all of sylver dyd appere the felde,

With a rampynge lyon of fyne golde so pure,

And under the shelde there was this scrypture:

Yf ony knyght that is adventurous

Of his great pride dare the bugle blowe,

There is a gyaunte bothe fyerce and rygorous

That wyth his might shall hym soune overthrowe.

This is the waye as ye shall nowe knowe

To La Belle Pucell, but withouten fayle

The sturdy gyaunte wyll geve you batayle.

Whan I the scripture ones or twyes hadde redde,

And knewe therof all the hole effecte,

I blewe the horne without any drede,

And toke good herte all fare to abjecte,

Makynge me redy, for I dyde suspecte

That the great gyaunte unto me wolde hast

Whan he had herde me blowe so loude a blast.

I alyght anone upon my gentyll stede,

Aboute the well then I rode to and fro,

And thought ryght well upon the joyfull mede

That I shoulde have after my payne and wo;

And on my lady I dyd thynke also:

Tyll at the last my varlet dyd me tell,

Take hede, quod he, here is a fende of hell!

My greyhoundes leped and my stede did sterte,

My spere I toke and did loke aboute;

Wyth hardy courage I did arme me herte;

At last I saw a sturdy giaunt stoute,

Twelve fote of length to fere a great route,

Thre hedes he had, and he armed was

Both hedes and body all about with bras.

Upon his first head in his helmet crest

There stode a fane of the silke so fyne,

Where was wrytten, with letters of the best,

My name is Falshed, I shall cause enclyne

My neyghbours goods for to make them myne:

Alway I get theyr lande or substaunce,

With subtyll fraude, deceyte, or variaunce.

And whan a knyght with noble chyvalry

Of La Bell Pucell should attayne the grace,

Wyth my great falshed I werke so subtylly

That in her herte he hath no place:

Thus of his purpose I do let the cace.

This is I my power and my condicion,

Love to remove by great illusion.

And of the second head, in a silken tassell,

There I saw wrytten: Ymaginacion;

My crafty wytte is withouten fayle

Love for to bring in perturbacion;

Where La Bell Pucell wold have affeccion

To Graund Amour, I shall a tale devyse

To make her hate him and him to dispyse.

By my false wytte so muche imaginative

The trouth full ofte I bring in disease;

Whereas was peace I cause to be stryfe;

I wyll suffer no man for to lyve in ease;

For if by fortune he wyll be displease,

I shall of him ymagin such a tale,

That out of joy it shall turne into bale.

And on the thirde hede, in a stremer grene,

There was written: My name is Perjury;

In many a towne I am knowen as I wene,

Where as I lyst I do great injury,

And do forswere my selfe full wrongfully:

Of all thinges I do hate conscience.

But I love lucre with all diligence.

Betwene two lovers I do make debate;

I will so swere, that they thinke I am true;

For ever falshed with his owne estate

To a lady cometh, and sayeth to eschew

An inconvenience that ye do not rue;

Your love is nought ymaginacion knoweth;

I swere in lykewise and anon she troweth.

That we have sayd is of very trouth,

Her love she casteth right clene out of minde;

That with her love she is wonderly wroth;

With fayned kindnes we do her so blynde,

Than to her lover she is full unkinde.

Thus our thre powers were joyned in one,

In this mighty giaunt many dayes agone.

And whan that I had sene every thinge,

My spere I charged that was very great,

And to this giaunt so fyersly coming

I toke my course, that I with him mette,

Broking my spere upon his first helmet.

And right anone adowne my stede I lyght,

Drawing my swerde that was fayre and bryght,

Iclyped Clara Prudence, that was fayre and sure.

At the giaunt I stroke with all my vyolence,

But he my strokes might right well endure

He was so great and huge of puysaunce;

His glave he did agaynst me advaunce,

Whiche was foure fote and more of cuttyng;

And as he was his stroke dischargyng,

Because his stroke wys hevy to beare

I lept asyde from hym full quickly,

And to him I ran without any feare.

Whan he had discharged agayne full lightly,

He rored loude, and sware I should abye,

But what for that? I stroke at him fast,

And he at me, but I was not agast.

But as he faught he had a vauntage,

He was right hye and I under him low;

Tyll at the last, with lusty courage

Upon the side I gave him such a blow

That I right nere did him overthrow,

But right anone he did his might enlarge,

That upon me he did such a stroke discharge,

That unneth I might make resistaunce

Agayng his power, for he was so stronge.

I dyd defend me agaynst his vyolence,

And thus the battayll dured right longe;

Yet evermore I did thinke amonge

Of La Belle Pucell, whom I shold attayne

After my battayles, to release my payne.

And as I loked I saw than overale

Fayre golden Phebus with his beames read,

Than up my courage I began to hale,

Which nigh before was agone and dead.

My swerde so entred that the giaunt blede,

And with my strokes I cut of anone

One of his legges amiddes the thye bone.

Than to the ground he adowne did fall,

And upon me he gan to loure and glum,

Enforcing him so for to ryse withall,

But that I shortly unto hem did cum,

With his thre hedes he spytte all his venum,

And I with my swerde, as fast a coude be,

With all my force cut of his hedes thre.

Whan I had so obteyned the victory,

Unto me than my verlet well sayd:

You have demaunded well and worthely:

My greyhoundes lepte and my stede than brayde,

And than from ferre I saw, well arayed,

To me come ryding thre ladyes swete;

Forth than I rode and did wyth them mete.

The fyrst of them was called Veryte,

And the second Good Operacion,

The thirde and cleped Fydelyte:

All they at ones wyth good opinion

Did geve to me great laudacion,

And me beseched with her hert entere

Wyth them to rest and to make good chere.

I graunted them, and than backeward we rode

The mighty giaunt to se and behold,

Whose huge body was more than five carte lode,

Which lay there bleding that was almost colde;

They for his death did thanke me many a fold,

For he to them was enmy mortall,

Wherfore his thre hedes they toke in special.

And than Verite, on the first fane,

Did sette aloft of Falshoed the hede,

And Good Operacion in lykewise had tane

Of Ymaginacion that full sore than bledde

His hede alofte upon his baner rede.

And in likewise Fydelite had served

Perjuries hede, as he had well deserved.

And with swete songes and swete armony

Before me they rode to their fayre castell;

So forth I rode, with great joy and glory,

Unto the place where these ladies did dwell,

Sette on a rocke beside a spryng or a well,

And fayre Observaunce, the goodly portres,

Did us receyve with solempe gladnes.

Than to the chambre, that was very bryght,

They did me lede for to take myne ease,

After my trouble and my great sturdy fight;

But thre woundes I had, causing my disease:

My pane and wo they did sone appease,

And heled my woundes with salves aromatyke,

Telling me of a great giaunt lunatyke,

Whose name truely was called Variaunce,

Whome I should mete after my departyng.

These ladies unto me did great pleasaunce;

And in meane while as we were talking

For me my suppour was in ordeyning;

Thus whan by Temperaunce it was prepared,

And than to it we went and right well fared.

Tell me, quod Veritie, if you be content,

What is your name so hye adventurous,

And who that you into this cost hath sent?

Madame, I sayd, I was so amarous

Of La Belle Pucell so fayre and beauteous,

La Graunde Amoure truely is my name,

Which seke adventures to attayne the same.

A, ha! quod she, I thought as much before,

That you were he, for your great hardines.

La Bell Pucell must love you evermore,

Which for her sake, in your hye nobles,

Doth such actes by chyvalrous exces:

Her gentyl hert may nothing deny

To rewarde your mede with love full fervently.

Thus did we passe time in all maner of joye,

I lacketh nothyng that might make me solace,

But evermore, as noble Troyelus of Troy,

Full ofte I thought on my fayre ladyes face,

And her to se a muche longer space.

When time was come, to rest I was brought,

All to me longyng there lacked right nought.

What should I wade by perambulucion?

My tyme is shorte and I have farre to sayle

Unto the lande of my conclusion.

The wynde is east, ryght slowe without fayle,

To blowe my shyppe of diligent travayle

To the last ende of my matter troublous,

With waves enclosed so tempestuous.

Ryght in the morowe, when Aurora clere

Her radiaunt beames began for to spreade,

And splendent Phebus, in his golden spere,

The cristalle ayr did make fayre and redde,

Darke Dyane declining pale as any ledde,

When the lytle byrdes swetely dyd syng

Laudes to their maker early in the mornyng.

Up I rose, and did make me ready,

For I thought long unto my journeys ende:

My grahoundes lept on me ryght merely,

To cheare me forwarde they condescende;

And the thre ladies, my cheare to amende,

A good breakefast did for me ordayne;

They were ryght gladde the gyaunt was slayne.

I toke my leave and on my way I ryde,

Through the woodes and on rockes hye.

I loked about, and on the hyll abode.

Till in the vale I sawe full hastely

To me come ryding a lady sikerly:

I well behelde the hye waye so used,

But of this lady ryght often I mused:

Till at the last we did mete together.

Madame, I sayde, the hye God you save!

She thanked me, and did aske me whether

That I so rode, and what I would have?

Truely, quod I, nothyng els I crave

Of the hye God, but to be so fortunate,

La Bell Pucell to have to my mate.

What is your name? then sayde she.

La Graunde Amoure, forsothe, madame, quod I.

Then was she glad as any one myght be,

And sayde she was sent fro myne owne lady.

Tidynges, I sayde, I praye you hartely!

Your lady, quod she, is in perfect health,

And would be glad to heare of your wealth.

She promised you in a garden grene

To love you best of any creature;

So doth she yet, as I thynke and wene,

Though that Disdayne brought her to her lure:

But of her harte nowe you shall be sure.

Be of good chere, and for nothyng dismaye,

I spake with her but nowe this other daye,

And she my selfe unto you hath sent;

My name is called dame Perceveraunce.

A little before that I from her went,

To her came Cupide, with great circumstaunce,

And brought a letter of Venus ordinaunce,

Whiche unto her he did anone present.

When she it reade and knewe the entent,

All inwardly full wondersly dismayed,

Withouten worde she did stande right well,

Her harded harte was full well delayed,

What for to do she knewe not good or yll.

You for to helpe or let you so spyll.

Disdayne and Strangenes did stande then therby;

Seing her countenaunce they gan to drawe nye.

Madame, quod they, why are ye so sadde?

Alas! quod she, it is no marvayle why.

Ryght nowe of Cupide a letter I had,

Sent from Venus, full ryght marveylously,

By whiche I have perceyved utterly

That a yong knyght called Graunde Amoure

Doth for my sake suffer suche doloure,

That of constraynte of wofull hevines

He is nere dead all onely for my sake;

Shall he nowe dye, or shall I him relese

Of his great wo and to my mercy take?

Abyde, quod Strangenes, and your sorowe slake:

Have you hym sene in any time before?

Yes, yes, quod she; that doth my wo restore.

At Penticost, nowe many dayes agone,

Musike to heare at great solemnitie,

To and fro he walked him selfe all alone

In a great temple of olde antiquitie;

Tyll that by fortune he had espied me;

And ryght anone, or that I was ware,

To me he came: I knewe nought of his care.

He semeth gentle, his maners ryght good,

I behelde ryght well all his condicion:

Humble of chere and of goodly mode;

But I thought nothyng of his affliction;

But his behavour sheweth the occasion

Of fervent love, as then in myne entent

I oft dyd deme, and geve a judgement.

So after this I dyd then sone departe

Home to my countrey where I dyd abyde;

When I was gone full heavy was his harte.

As Cupide sayeth, I must for hym provyde

A gentle remedy at this sodayne tyde;

And for my sake he is adventurous

To subdue mine enemies to me contrarious.

A! quod Disdayne, knowe ye his substaunce?

Why wyll you love suche a one as he?

Though he seme gentle and of good governaunce,

You shall have one of farre hyer degre.

He is nothyng mete, as it semeth me,

To be your fere your favour to attayne.

What is it to you though he suffer payne?

Coulde your selfe let his eyen to have a syght

Of your beauty or his harte to be set,

What skilleth you though that he dye this nyght?

You called hym not when he with you mette;

And he will love you, you can not hym let.

Be as be may, ye shall have myne assent

Him for to forsake as is moste expedient.

Alas! madame, then saide dame Strangenes,

When he cometh hether your courage abate;

Loke hye upon hym; beware of mekenes;

And thinke that you shall have an hie estate.

Let not Graunde Amour saye to you checkmate.

Be straunge unto hym, as ye knowe nothyng

The perfite cause of his true commyng.

And in meane whyle came to her presence

Dame Peace and Mercie, and to her they sayde:

Alas! madame, consyder your excellence,

And howe your beauty hath hym so arayed:

If you have hym ye may be well apayed.

And doubt you not if that ye love for love,

God will sende ryches to come to you above.

Will you for love let hym dye or peryshe,

Whiche loveth you so with fervent desyre?

And you your selfe may his sorowe minishe,

That with your beauty set his harte a fyre.

Your swete lokes did his harte enspire,

That of fyne force he must to you obeye,

To live or dye there is no more to saye.

Alas! quod Peace, wyll ye let him endure

In mortal payne withouten remedy?

Sithen his harte you have so tane in cure,

Your hasty dome loke that ye modefy.

Exile Disdayne and Strangenes shortly,

And sende Perceverance as fast as ye may

To comfort hym in his troublous journey.

Then in her mynde she gan to revolve

The lovyng wordes of Mercy and Peace;

Her hardy harte she gan for to dissolve,

And inwardly she did to me release

Her perfite love your great payne to cease;

And did exile then from her to wyldernes

Bothe dame Disdayne and eke dame Strangenes.

And did me sende to you incontinent,

With this goodly shelde, that ye should it were,

For her swete sake as is convenient.

It is sure; ye shall not nede to feare

The stroke of swerde or yet the grate of spere.

She prayeth you to be of good chere;

Above all men ye are to her moste deare.

Nowe, sayde Perceverance, I pray you repose

This long nyght with my cosen Comfort,

A gentle lady as any may suppose;

She can you tell and also well exhort

Of La Bell Pucell with a true report.

I thanke her of her great goodnes,

And so we rode with joye and gladnes,

Tyll that we came unto a manour place,

Moted about under a woode syde.

Alyght, she sayde, for by ryght long space.

I payne and wo you did ever abyde.

After an ebbe there commeth a flowyng tyde.

So downe I lyght from my goodly stede,

After my payne to have rest for my mede.

Then dame Perceverance on the way me ledde

Into the place, where did us gentilly mete

The Lady Comfort without any dredde,

With countenaunce that was demure and swete;

In goodly maner she dyd us then grete,

Leadyng us to a chamber precious,

Dulcet of odoure and most solacious.

And pryvely she asked a question,

Of Perceverance, what I called was?

La Graunde Amoure, without abusion,

Cosen, quod she: he doth all lovers passe;

Like as dothe Phebus in the pure glasse,

So doth his dedes extolle the soverayntie

Of the darke gyauntes by highe aucthoritie.

When she it knewe, she was of me ryght fayne;

Nothyng I lacked that was to my plesaunce,

After my travayle and my wofull payne:

Good meate and drynke I had to sustenaunce;

We sate together by long continaunce,

But evermore Comfort gave exhortation

To me of pacience in tribulacion.

Thinke well, quod she, that in the worlde is none

Whiche can have pleasure without wo and care;

Joye cometh after, when the payne is gone:

Was never man that was devoyde or bare

Alway of joye after his wofull snare;

Who knoweth payne and hath bene in trouble,

After his wo his joye is to him double.

It may so fortune that La Bell Pucell

Hath divers frendes, that be not content

That her favoure ye should attayne so well;

For you of them she may often be shent,

But what for that? she shall not her repent,

And if her frendes be with you angry,

Suffer their wordes and take it paciently.

Agaynst their yll do unto them good,

Them for to please be alwaye diligent;

So shall you swage the tempesteous floode

Of their stormy myndes so impacient,

And inwardly they shall them selves repent

That they to you have bene contrarious,

In suche fyry anger hote and furious.

Thus by your wisdome ye shall them so wynne

Unto your frendes that dyd you so hate;

For it is reason you should obeye your kynne,

As by obedience both early and late

Make them your frendes without the debate;

For evermore the spirite of pacience

Doth overcome the angry violence.

Be hardy, bolde, and couragious;

For after that ye be gone from hence,

You shall mete with a gyaunt rigorious,

Havyng seven heades of yll experience.

You shall subdue him with your prudence;

And other adventures shall unto you fall,

Whiche Fame shall cause to be memoriall.

When it was tyme, I was brought to bedde,

So all the long nyght I endured in rest;

With suche a slouth i-taken was my heade,

That my soft pyllowe founde a good gest.

For long before I was so opprest

With inwarde trouble that I myght not slepe,

But oft wake and syghe with teares depe.

When mornyng came, up anone I rose,

And armed me as fast as I myght,

Forth for to travaile unto my purpose.

I toke my leave and on my stede I lyght;

Thankyng dame Comforte of her chere that nyght;

So, with Perceveraunce, in my company,

Forth on the way we rode full merely

Over the hethe, tyll we sawe from farre

A royall castell ryght strongly fortified,

Bulwarkes about accustomed for warre;

On a craggy roche it was so edified,

Walled with gate so clerely purified,

To whiche we rode, and drewe nere and nere,

Till in our syght did openly appeare

A myghty gyaunt, xv. fote of length,

With heades seven, and armed full sure;

He semed well to be a man of strength.

Then quod Perceveraunce: Ye must put in ure

This daye your power, in honour to endure,

Against this gyaunt your mortall enemy.

Be of good cheare, you shall have victory.

Besydes this gyaunt, upon every tree

I did se hang many a goodly shelde

Of noble knyghtes, that were of hye degre,

Whiche he had slayne and murdred in the fielde.

From farre this gyaunt I ryght well behelde;

And towarde hym as I rode my waye,

On his first head I sawe a banner gay,

Wherin was written Dissimulation,

Whose nature false is full of flatery,

That, onder a fayned commendacion,

Can cloke a mocke and fraude full subtilly;

So doth he love deceyve oft pryvely,

For the blinde love doth perceyve ryght nought

That under hony the poyson is wrought.

And on the seconde heade was a banner blewe,

In whiche was written, in letters ryght white,

Delay my name is, that can long eschue

As true lover with my fatall respite,

That love for love shall not him acquite;

For evermore I lye oft in a wayte,

Love to delay and cast hym from consayte.

On the thirde head, in a banner square,

All of reade was wrytten Discomfort,

Causyng a lover for to drowne in care,

That he of love shall have no report,

But loke hye his hart to transport,

And I my selfe shall him so assayle

That he in love shall nothyng prevayle.