Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346097" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Court Of Love</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">With timerous hert and trembling hand of drede,<br>Of cunning naked, bare of eloquence,<br>Unto the flour of port in womanhede<br>I write, as he that non intelligence<br>Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence;<br>Sauf that me list my writing to convey,<br>In that I can to please her hygh nobley.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The blosmes fresshe of Tullius garden soote<br>Present thaim not, my mater for to borne:<br>Poemes of Virgil taken here no rote,<br>Ne crafte of Galfrid may not here sojorne:<br>Why nam I cunning? O well may I morne,<br>For lak of science that I can-not write<br>Unto the princes of my life a-right</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>No termes digne unto her excellence,<br>So is she sprong of noble stirpe and high:<br>A world of honour and of reverence<br>There is in her, this wil I testifie.<br>Calliope, thou sister wise and sly,<br>And thou, Minerva, guyde me with thy grace,<br>That langage rude my mater not deface.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thy suger-dropes swete of Elicon<br>Distill in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray;<br>And thee, Melpomene, I calle anon,<br>Of ignoraunce the mist to chace away;<br>And give me grace so for to write and sey,<br>That she, my lady, of her worthinesse,<br>Accepte in gree this litel short tretesse,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That is entitled thus, 'The Court of Love.'<br>And ye that ben metriciens me excuse,<br>I you besech, for Venus sake above;<br>For what I mene in this ye need not muse:<br>And if so be my lady it refuse<br>For lak of ornat speche, I wold be wo,<br>That I presume to her to writen so.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But myn entent and all my besy cure<br>Is for to write this tretesse, as I can,<br>Unto my lady, stable, true, and sure,<br>Feithfull and kind, sith first that she began<br>Me to accept in service as her man:<br>To her be all the plesure of this boke,<br>That, whan her like, she may it rede and loke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>When I was yong, at eighteen yere of age,<br>Lusty and light, desirous of pleasaunce,<br>Approching on full sadde and ripe corage,<br>Love arted me to do myn observaunce<br>To his astate, and doon him obeysaunce,<br>Commaunding me the Court of Love to see,<br>A lite beside the mount of Citharee,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>There Citherea goddesse was and quene<br>Honoured highly for her majestee;<br>And eke her sone, the mighty god, I wene,<br>Cupid the blind, that for his dignitee<br>A thousand lovers worship on their knee;<br>There was I bid, on pain of death, t'apere,<br>By Mercury, the winged messengere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So than I went by straunge and fer contrees,<br>Enquiring ay what costes to it drew,<br>The Court of Love: and thiderward, as bees,<br>At last I sey the peple gan pursue:<br>Anon, me thought, som wight was there that knew<br>Where that the court was holden, ferre or ny,<br>And after thaim ful fast I gan me hy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Anone as I theim overtook, I said,<br>'Hail, frendes! whider purpose ye to wend?'<br>'Forsooth,' quod oon that answered lich a maid,<br>'To Loves Court now go we, gentill frend.'<br>'Where is that place,' quod I, 'my felowe hend?'<br>'At Citheron, sir,' seid he, 'without dowte,<br>The King of Love, and all his noble rowte,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Dwelling within a castell ryally.'<br>So than apace I jorned forth among,<br>And as he seid, so fond I there truly.<br>For I beheld the towres high and strong,<br>And high pinácles, large of hight and long,<br>With plate of gold bespred on every side,<br>And presious stones, the stone-werk for to hide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>No saphir ind, no rubè riche of price,<br>There lakked than, nor emeraud so grene,<br>Baleis Turkeis, ne thing to my devise,<br>That may the castell maken for to shene:<br>All was as bright as sterres in winter been;<br>And Phebus shoon, to make his pees agayn,<br>For trespas doon to high estates tweyn,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Venus and Mars, the god and goddesse clere,<br>Whan he theim found in armes cheined fast:<br>Venus was then full sad of herte and chere.<br>But Phebus bemes, streight as is the mast,<br>Upon the castell ginneth he to cast,<br>To plese the lady, princesse of that place,<br>In signe he loketh aftir Loves grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For there nis god in heven or helle, y-wis,<br>But he hath ben right soget unto Love:<br>Jove, Pluto, or what-so-ever he is,<br>Ne creature in erth, or yet above;<br>Of thise the révers may no wight approve.<br>But furthermore, the castell to descry,<br>Yet saw I never non so large and high.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For unto heven it streccheth, I suppose,<br>Within and out depeynted wonderly,<br>With many a thousand daisy, rede as rose,<br>And white also, this saw I verily:<br>But what tho daises might do signify,<br>Can I not tell, sauf that the quenes flour<br>Alceste it was that kept there her sojour;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Which under Venus lady was and quene,<br>And Admete king and soverain of that place,<br>To whom obeyed the ladies gode ninetene,<br>With many a thowsand other, bright of face.<br>And yong men fele came forth with lusty pace,<br>And aged eke, their homage to dispose;<br>But what thay were, I could not well disclose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Yet ner and ner furth in I gan me dresse<br>Into an halle of noble apparaile,<br>With arras spred and cloth of gold, I gesse,<br>And other silk of esier availe:<br>Under the cloth of their estate, saunz faile,<br>The king and quene ther sat, as I beheld:<br>It passed joye of Helisee the feld.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>There saintes have their comming and resort,<br>To seen the king so ryally beseyn,<br>In purple clad, and eke the quene in sort:<br>And on their hedes saw I crownes tweyn,<br>With stones fret, so that it was no payn,<br>Withouten mete and drink, to stand and see<br>The kinges honour and the ryaltee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And for to trete of states with the king,<br>That been of councell chief, and with the quene,<br>The king had Daunger ner to him standing,<br>The Quene of Love, Disdain, and that was seen:<br>For by the feith I shall to god, I wene,<br>Was never straunger [non] in her degree<br>Than was the quene in casting of her ee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And as I stood perceiving her apart,<br>And eke the bemes shyning of her yen,<br>Me thought thay were shapen lich a dart,<br>Sherp and persing, smale, and streight as lyne.<br>And all her here, it shoon as gold so fyne,<br>Dishevel, crisp, down hinging at her bak<br>A yarde in length: and soothly than I spak:—</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'O bright Regina, who made thee so fair?<br>Who made thy colour vermelet and white?<br>Where woneth that god? how fer above the eyr?<br>Greet was his craft, and greet was his delyt.<br>Now marvel I nothing that ye do hight<br>The Quene of Love, and occupy the place<br>Of Citharee: now, sweet lady, thy grace.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In mewet spak I, so that nought astert,<br>By no condicion, word that might be herd;<br>B[ut] in myn inward thought I gan advert,<br>And oft I seid, 'My wit is dulle and hard:'<br>For with her bewtee, thus, god wot, I ferd<br>As doth the man y-ravisshed with sight,<br>When I beheld her cristall yen so bright,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>No respect having what was best to doon;<br>Till right anon, beholding here and there,<br>I spied a frend of myne, and that full soon,<br>A gentilwoman, was the chamberer<br>Unto the quene, that hote, as ye shall here,<br>Philobone, that lovëd all her life:<br>Whan she me sey, she led me furth as blyfe;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And me demaunded how and in what wise<br>I thider com, and what myne erand was?<br>'To seen the court,' quod I, 'and all the guyse;<br>And eke to sue for pardon and for grace,<br>And mercy ask for all my greet trespace,<br>That I non erst com to the Court of Love:<br>Foryeve me this, ye goddes all above!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'That is well seid,' quod Philobone, 'in-dede:<br>But were ye not assomoned to apere<br>By Mercury? For that is all my drede.'<br>'Yes, gentil fair,' quod I, 'now am I here;<br>Ye, yit what tho, though that be true, my dere?'<br>'Of your free will ye shuld have come unsent:<br>For ye did not, I deme ye will be shent.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For ye that reign in youth and lustinesse,<br>Pampired with ese, and jolif in your age,<br>Your dewtee is, as fer as I can gesse,<br>To Loves Court to dressen your viage,<br>As sone as Nature maketh you so sage,<br>That ye may know a woman from a swan,<br>Or whan your foot is growen half a span.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But sith that ye, by wilful necligence,<br>This eighteen yere have kept yourself at large,<br>The gretter is your trespace and offence,<br>And in your nek ye moot bere all the charge:<br>For better were ye ben withouten barge,<br>Amiddë see, in tempest and in rain,<br>Than byden here, receiving woo and pain,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That ordeined is for such as thaim absent<br>Fro Loves Court by yeres long and fele.<br>I ley my lyf ye shall full soon repent;<br>For Love will reyve your colour, lust, and hele:<br>Eke ye must bait on many an hevy mele:<br>No force, y-wis, I stired you long agoon<br>To draw to court,' quod litell Philobon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Ye shall well see how rough and angry face<br>The King of Love will shew, when ye him see;<br>By myn advyse kneel down and ask him grace,<br>Eschewing perell and adversitee;<br>For well I wot it wol non other be,<br>Comfort is non, ne counsel to your ese;<br>Why will ye than the King of Love displese?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'O mercy, god,' quod ich, 'I me repent,<br>Caitif and wrecche in hert, in wille, and thought!<br>And aftir this shall be myne hole entent<br>To serve and plese, how dere that love be bought:<br>Yit, sith I have myn own penaunce y-sought,<br>With humble spirit shall I it receive,<br>Though that the King of Love my life bereyve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And though that fervent loves qualitè<br>In me did never worch truly, yit I<br>With all obeisaunce and humilitè,<br>And benign hert, shall serve him til I dye:<br>And he that Lord of might is, grete and highe,<br>Right as him list me chastice and correct,<br>And punish me, with trespace thus enfect.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thise wordes seid, she caught me by the lap,<br>And led me furth intill a temple round,<br>Large and wyde: and, as my blessed hap<br>And good avénture was, right sone I found<br>A tabernacle reised from the ground,<br>Where Venus sat, and Cupid by her syde;<br>Yet half for drede I gan my visage hyde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And eft again I loked and beheld,<br>Seeing full sundry peple in the place,<br>And mister folk, and som that might not weld<br>Their limmes well, me thought a wonder cas;<br>The temple shoon with windows all of glas,<br>Bright as the day, with many a fair image;<br>And there I sey the fresh quene of Cartage,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Dido, that brent her bewtee for the love<br>Of fals Eneas; and the weymenting<br>Of hir, Anelida, true as turtill-dove,<br>To Arcite fals: and there was in peinting<br>Of many a prince, and many a doughty king,<br>Whose marterdom was shewed about the walles;<br>And how that fele for love had suffered falles.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But sore I was abasshed and astonied<br>Of all tho folk that there were in that tyde;<br>And than I asked where thay had [y-]woned:<br>'In dyvers courtes,' quod she, 'here besyde.'<br>In sondry clothing, mantil-wyse full wyde,<br>They were arrayed, and did their sacrifice<br>Unto the god and goddesse in their guyse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Lo! yonder folk,' quod she, 'that knele in blew,<br>They were the colour ay, and ever shall,<br>In sign they were, and ever will be trew<br>Withouten chaunge: and sothly, yonder all<br>That ben in blak, with morning cry and call<br>Unto the goddes, for their loves been<br>Som fer, som dede, som all to sherpe and kene.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Ye, than,' quod I, 'what doon thise prestes here,<br>Nonnes and hermits, freres, and all thoo<br>That sit in white, in russet, and in grene?'<br>'For-soth,' quod she, 'they wailen of their wo.'<br>'O mercy, lord! may thay so come and go<br>Freely to court, and have such libertee?'<br>'Ye, men of ech condicion and degree,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And women eke: for truly, there is non<br>Excepcion mad, ne never was ne may:<br>This court is ope and free for everichon,<br>The King of Love he will nat say thaim nay:<br>He taketh all, in poore or riche array,<br>That meekly sewe unto his excellence<br>With all their herte and all their reverence.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And, walking thus about with Philobone,<br>I sey where cam a messenger in hy<br>Streight from the king, which let commaund anon,<br>Through-out the court to make an ho and cry:<br>'A! new-come folk, abyde! and wot ye why?<br>The kinges lust is for to seen you soon:<br>Com ner, let see! his will mot need be doon.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Than gan I me present to-fore the king,<br>Trembling for fere, with visage pale of hew,<br>And many a lover with me was kneling,<br>Abasshed sore, till unto tyme thay knew<br>The sentence yeve of his entent full trew:<br>And at the last the king hath me behold<br>With stern visage, and seid, 'What doth this old,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thus fer y-stope in yeres, come so late<br>Unto the court?' 'For-soth, my liege,' quod I,<br>'An hundred tyme I have ben at the gate<br>Afore this tyme, yit coud I never espy<br>Of myn acqueyntaunce any with mine y;<br>And shamefastnes away me gan to chace;<br>But now I me submit unto your grace.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Well! all is perdoned, with condicion<br>That thou be trew from hensforth to thy might,<br>And serven Love in thyn entencion:<br>Swere this, and than, as fer as it is right,<br>Thou shalt have grace here in my quenes sight.'<br>'Yis, by the feith I ow your crown, I swere,<br>Though Deth therfore me thirlith with his spere!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And whan the king had seen us everichoon,<br>He let commaunde an officer in hy<br>To take our feith, and shew us, oon by oon,<br>The statuts of the court full besily.<br>Anon the book was leid before their y,<br>To rede and see what thing we must observe<br>In Loves Court, till that we dye and sterve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And, for that I was lettred, there I red<br>The statuts hole of Loves Court and hall:<br>The first statut that on the boke was spred,<br>Was, To be true in thought and dedes all<br>Unto the King of Love, the Lord ryall;<br>And to the Quene, as feithful and as kind,<br>As I coud think with herte, and will and mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The secund statut, Secretly to kepe<br>Councell of love, nat blowing every-where<br>All that I know, and let it sink or flete;<br>It may not sown in every wightes ere:<br>Exyling slaunder ay for dred and fere,<br>And to my lady, which I love and serve,<br>Be true and kind, her grace for to deserve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The thrid statut was clerely write also,<br>Withouten chaunge to live and dye the same,<br>Non other love to take, for wele ne wo,<br>For brind delyt, for ernest nor for game:<br>Without repent, for laughing or for grame,<br>To byden still in full perseveraunce:<br>Al this was hole the kinges ordinaunce.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The fourth statut, To purchace ever to here,<br>And stiren folk to love, and beten fyr<br>On Venus awter, here about and there,<br>And preche to thaim of love and hot desyr,<br>And tell how love will quyten well their hire:<br>This must be kept; and loth me to displese:<br>If love be wroth, passe forby is an ese.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The fifth statut, Not to be daungerous,<br>If that a thought wold reyve me of my slepe:<br>Nor of a sight to be over squeymous;<br>And so, verily, this statut was to kepe,<br>To turne and walowe in my bed and wepe,<br>When that my lady, of her crueltè,<br>Wold from her herte exylen all pitè.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The sixt statut, it was for me to use,<br>Alone to wander, voide of company,<br>And on my ladys bewtee for to muse,<br>And to think [it] no force to live or dye;<br>And eft again to think the remedy,<br>How to her grace I might anon attain,<br>And tell my wo unto my souverain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The seventh statut was, To be pacient,<br>Whether my lady joyfull were or wroth;<br>For wordes glad or hevy, diligent,<br>Wheder that she me helden lefe or loth:<br>And hereupon I put was to myn oth,<br>Her for to serve, and lowly to obey,<br>Shewing my chere, ye, twenty sith a-day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The eighth statut, to my rememb[e]raunce,<br>Was, To speke, and pray my lady dere,<br>With hourly labour and gret attendaunce,<br>Me for to love with all her herte entere,<br>And me desyre, and make me joyfull chere,<br>Right as she is, surmounting every faire,<br>Of bewtie well, and gentill debonaire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The ninth statut, with lettres writ of gold,<br>This was the sentence, How that I and all<br>Shuld ever dred to be to over-bold<br>Her to displese; and truly, so I shall;<br>But ben content for thing[es] that may falle,<br>And meekly take her chastisement and yerd,<br>And to offende her ever ben aferd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The tenth statut was, Egally discern<br>By-twene thy lady and thyn abilitee,<br>And think, thy-self art never like to yern,<br>By right, her mercy, nor of equitee,<br>But of her grace and womanly pitee:<br>For though thy-self be noble in thy strene,<br>A thowsand-fold more nobill is thy quene,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thy lyves lady, and thy souverayn,<br>That hath thyn herte all hole in governaunce.<br>Thou mayst no wyse hit taken to disdayn,<br>To put thee humbly at her ordinaunce,<br>And give her free the rein of her plesaunce;<br>For libertee is thing that women loke,<br>And truly, els the mater is a-croke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The eleventh statut, Thy signes for to con<br>With y and finger, and with smyles soft,<br>And low to cough, and alway for to shon,<br>For dred of spyes, for to winken oft:<br>But secretly to bring a sigh a-loft,<br>And eke beware of over-moch resort;<br>For that, paraventure, spilleth al thy sport.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The twelfth statut remember to observe:<br>For al the pain thow hast for love and wo,<br>All is to lite her mercy to deserve,<br>Thow must then think, where-ever thou ryde or go;<br>And mortall woundes suffer thow also,<br>All for her sake, and thinke it well beset<br>Upon thy love, for it may be no bet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The thirteenth statut, Whylom is to thinke,<br>What thing may best thy lady lyke and plese,<br>And in thyn hertes botom let it sinke:<br>Som thing devise, and take [it] for thyn ese,<br>And send it her, that may her herte apese:<br>Some hert, or ring, or lettre, or device,<br>Or precious stone; but spare not for no price.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The fourteenth statut eke thou shalt assay<br>Fermly to kepe the most part of thy lyfe:<br>Wish that thy lady in thyne armes lay,<br>And nightly dreme, thow hast thy hertes wyfe<br>Swetely in armes, straining her as blyfe:<br>And whan thou seest it is but fantasy,<br>See that thow sing not over merily,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For to moche joye hath oft a wofull end.<br>It longith eke, this statut for to hold,<br>To deme thy lady evermore thy frend,<br>And think thyself in no wyse a cocold.<br>In every thing she doth but as she shold:<br>Construe the best, beleve no tales newe,<br>For many a lie is told, that semeth full trewe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But think that she, so bounteous and fair,<br>Coud not be fals: imagine this algate;<br>And think that tonges wikke wold her appair,<br>Slaundering her name and worshipfull estat,<br>And lovers true to setten at debat:<br>And though thow seest a faut right at thyne y,<br>Excuse it blyve, and glose it pretily.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The fifteenth statut, Use to swere and stare,<br>And counterfet a lesing hardely,<br>To save thy ladys honour every-where,<br>And put thyself to fight [for her] boldly:<br>Sey she is good, virtuous, and gostly,<br>Clere of entent, and herte, and thought and wille;<br>And argue not, for reson ne for skille,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Agayn thy ladys plesir ne entent,<br>For love wil not be countrepleted, indede:<br>Sey as she seith, than shalt thou not be shent,<br>The crow is whyte; ye, truly, so I rede:<br>And ay what thing that she thee will forbede,<br>Eschew all that, and give her sovereintee,<br>Her appetyt folow in all degree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The sixteenth statut, kepe it if thow may:—<br>Seven sith at night thy lady for to plese,<br>And seven at midnight, seven at morow-day;<br>And drink a cawdell erly for thyn ese.<br>Do this, and kepe thyn hede from all disese,<br>And win the garland here of lovers all,<br>That ever come in court, or ever shall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Ful few, think I, this statut hold and kepe;<br>But truly, this my reson giveth me fele,<br>That som lovers shuld rather fall aslepe,<br>Than take on hand to plese so oft and wele.<br>There lay non oth to this statut a-dele,<br>But kepe who might, as gave him his corage:<br>Now get this garland, lusty folk of age.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Now win who may, ye lusty folk of youth,<br>This garland fresh, of floures rede and whyte,<br>Purpill and blewe, and colours ful uncouth,<br>And I shal croune him king of all delyt!<br>In al the court there was not, to my sight,<br>A lover trew, that he ne was adred,<br>When he expresse hath herd the statut red.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The seventeenth statut, Whan age approchith on,<br>And lust is leid, and all the fire is queint,<br>As freshly than thou shalt begin to fon,<br>And dote in love, and all her image paint<br>In rémembraunce, til thou begin to faint,<br>As in the first seson thyn hert began:<br>And her desire, though thou ne may ne can</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Perform thy living actuell, and lust;<br>Regester this in thy rememb[e]raunce:<br>Eke when thou mayst not kepe thy thing from rust,<br>Yit speke and talk of plesaunt daliaunce;<br>For that shall make thyn hert rejoise and daunce.<br>And when thou mayst no more the game assay,<br>The statut bit thee pray for hem that may.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The eighteenth statut, hoolly to commend,<br>To plese thy lady, is, That thou eschewe<br>With sluttishness thy-self for to offend;<br>Be jolif, fresh, and fete, with thinges newe,<br>Courtly with maner, this is all thy due,<br>Gentill of port, and loving clenlinesse;<br>This is the thing that lyketh thy maistresse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And not to wander lich a dulled ass,<br>Ragged and torn, disgysed in array,<br>Ribaud in speche, or out of mesure pass,<br>Thy bound exceding; think on this alway:<br>For women been of tender hertes ay,<br>And lightly set their plesire in a place;<br>Whan they misthink, they lightly let it passe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The nineteenth statut, Mete and drink forgete:<br>Ech other day, see that thou fast for love,<br>For in the court they live withouten mete,<br>Sauf such as cometh from Venus all above;<br>They take non heed, in pain of greet reprove,<br>Of mete and drink, for that is all in vain;<br>Only they live by sight of their soverain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The twentieth statut, last of everichoon,<br>Enroll it in thyn hertes privitee;<br>To wring and wail, to turn, and sigh and grone,<br>When that thy lady absent is from thee;<br>And eke renew the wordes [all] that she<br>Bitween you twain hath seid, and all the chere<br>That thee hath mad thy lyves lady dere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And see thyn herte in quiet ne in rest<br>Sojorn, to tyme thou seen thy lady eft;<br>But wher she won by south, or est, or west,<br>With all thy force, now see it be not left:<br>Be diligent, till tyme thy lyfe be reft,<br>In that thou mayst, thy lady for to see;<br>This statut was of old antiquitee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>An officer of high auctoritee,<br>Cleped Rigour, made us swere anon:<br>He nas corrupt with parcialitee,<br>Favour, prayer, ne gold that cherely shoon;<br>'Ye shall,' quod he, 'now sweren here echoon,<br>Yong and old, to kepe, in that ye may,<br>The statuts truly, all, aftir this day.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>O god, thought I, hard is to make this oth!<br>But to my pouer shall I thaim observe;<br>In all this world nas mater half so loth,<br>To swere for all; for though my body sterve,<br>I have no might the hole for to reserve.<br>But herkin now the cace how it befell:<br>After my oth was mad, the trouth to tell,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I turned leves, loking on this boke,<br>Where other statuts were of women shene;<br>And right furthwith Rigour on me gan loke<br>Full angrily, and seid unto the quene<br>I traitour was, and charged me let been:<br>'There may no man,' quod he, 'the statut[s] know,<br>That long to woman, hy degree ne low.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In secret wyse thay kepten been full close,<br>They sowne echon to libertie, my frend;<br>Plesaunt thay be, and to their own purpose;<br>There wot no wight of thaim, but god and fend,<br>Ne naught shall wit, unto the worldes end.<br>The quene hath yeve me charge, in pain to dye,<br>Never to rede ne seen thaim with myn ye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For men shall not so nere of councell ben,<br>With womanhode, ne knowen of her gyse,<br>Ne what they think, ne of their wit th'engyn;<br>I me report to Salamon the wyse,<br>And mighty Sampson, which begyled thryes<br>With Dalida was: he wot that, in a throw,<br>There may no man statut of women knowe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For it paravénture may right so befall,<br>That they be bound by nature to disceive,<br>And spinne, and wepe, and sugre strewe on gall,<br>The hert of man to ravissh and to reyve,<br>And whet their tong as sharp as swerd or gleyve:<br>It may betyde, this is their ordinaunce;<br>So must they lowly doon the observaunce,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And kepe the statut yeven thaim of kind,<br>Or such as love hath yeve hem in their lyfe.<br>Men may not wete why turneth every wind,<br>Nor waxen wyse, nor ben inquisityf<br>To know secret of maid, widow, or wyfe;<br>For they their statutes have to thaim reserved,<br>And never man to know thaim hath deserved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Now dress you furth, the god of Love you gyde!'<br>Quod Rigour than, 'and seek the temple bright<br>Of Cither[e]a, goddess here besyde;<br>Beseche her, by [the] influence and might<br>Of al her vertue, you to teche a-right,<br>How for to serve your ladies, and to plese,<br>Ye that ben sped, and set your hert in ese.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And ye that ben unpurveyed, pray her eke<br>Comfort you soon with grace and destinee,<br>That ye may set your hert there ye may lyke,<br>In suche a place, that it to love may be<br>Honour and worship, and felicitee<br>To you for ay. Now goth, by one assent.'<br>'Graunt mercy, sir!' quod we, and furth we went</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Devoutly, soft and esy pace, to see<br>Venus the goddes image, all of gold:<br>And there we founde a thousand on their knee,<br>Sum freshe and feire, som dedely to behold,<br>In sondry mantils new, and som were old,<br>Som painted were with flames rede as fire,<br>Outward to shew their inward hoot desire:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>With dolefull chere, full fele in their complaint<br>Cried 'Lady Venus, rewe upon our sore!<br>Receive our billes, with teres all bedreint;<br>We may not wepe, there is no more in store;<br>But wo and pain us frettith more and more:<br>Thou blisful planet, lovers sterre so shene,<br>Have rowth on us, that sigh and carefull been;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And ponish, Lady, grevously, we pray,<br>The false untrew with counterfet plesaunce,<br>That made their oth, be trew to live or dey,<br>With chere assured, and with countenaunce;<br>And falsly now thay foten loves daunce,<br>Barein of rewth, untrue of that they seid,<br>Now that their lust and plesire is alleyd.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Yet eft again, a thousand milion,<br>Rejoysing, love, leding their life in blis:<br>They seid:—'Venus, redresse of all division,<br>Goddes eterne, thy name y-heried is!<br>By loves bond is knit all thing, y-wis,<br>Best unto best, the erth to water wan,<br>Bird unto bird, and woman unto man;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>This is the lyfe of joye that we ben in,<br>Resembling lyfe of hevenly paradyse;<br>Love is exyler ay of vice and sin;<br>Love maketh hertes lusty to devyse;<br>Honour and grace have thay, in every wyse,<br>That been to loves law obedient;<br>Love makith folk benigne and diligent;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Ay stering theim to drede[n] vice and shame:<br>In their degree it maketh thaim honorable;<br>And swete it is of love [to] bere the name,<br>So that his love be feithfull, true, and stable:<br>Love prunith him, to semen amiable;<br>Love hath no faut, there it is exercysed,<br>But sole with theim that have all love dispised.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Honour to thee, celestiall and clere<br>Goddes of love, and to thy celsitude,<br>That yevest us light so fer down from thy spere,<br>Persing our hertes with thy pulcritude!<br>Comparison non of similitude<br>May to thy grace be mad in no degree,<br>That hast us set with love in unitee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Gret cause have we to praise thy name and thee,<br>For [that] through thee we live in joye and blisse.<br>Blessed be thou, most souverain to see!<br>Thy holy court of gladness may not misse:<br>A thousand sith we may rejoise in this,<br>That we ben thyn with harte and all y-fere,<br>Enflamed with thy grace, and hevinly fere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Musing of tho that spakin in this wyse,<br>I me bethought in my rememb[e]raunce<br>Myne orison right goodly to devyse,<br>And plesauntly, with hartes obeisaunce,<br>Beseech the goddes voiden my grevaunce;<br>For I loved eke, sauf that I wist nat where;<br>Yet down I set, and seid as ye shall here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Fairest of all that ever were or be!<br>Lucerne and light to pensif crëature!<br>Myn hole affiaunce, and my lady free,<br>My goddes bright, my fortune and my ure,<br>I yeve and yeld my hart to thee full sure,<br>Humbly beseching, lady, of thy grace<br>Me to bestowe into som blessed place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And here I vow me feithfull, true, and kind,<br>Without offence of mutabilitee,<br>Humbly to serve, whyl I have wit and mind,<br>Myn hole affiaunce, and my lady free!<br>In thilkë place, there ye me sign to be:<br>And, sith this thing of newe is yeve me, ay<br>To love and serve, needly must I obey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Be merciable with thy fire of grace,<br>And fix myne hert there bewtie is and routh,<br>For hote I love, determine in no place,<br>Sauf only this, by god and by my trouth,<br>Trowbled I was with slomber, slepe, and slouth<br>This other night, and in a visioun<br>I sey a woman romen up and down,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Of mene stature, and seemly to behold,<br>Lusty and fresh, demure of countynaunce,<br>Yong and wel shap, with here [that] shoon as gold,<br>With yen as cristall, farced with plesaunce;<br>And she gan stir myne harte a lite to daunce;<br>But sodenly she vanissh gan right there:<br>Thus I may sey, I love and wot not where.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For what she is, ne her dwelling I not,<br>And yet I fele that love distraineth me:<br>Might ich her know, that wold I fain, god wot,<br>Serve and obey with all benignitee.<br>And if that other be my destinee,<br>So that no wyse I shall her never see,<br>Than graunt me her that best may lyken me,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>With glad rejoyse to live in parfit hele,<br>Devoide of wrath, repent, or variaunce;<br>And able me to do that may be wele<br>Unto my lady, with hertes hy plesaunce:<br>And, mighty goddes! through thy purviaunce<br>My wit, my thought, my lust and love so gyde,<br>That to thyne honour I may me provyde</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>To set myne herte in place there I may lyke,<br>And gladly serve with all affeccioun.<br>Gret is the pain which at myn hert doth stik,<br>Till I be sped by thyn eleccioun:<br>Help, lady goddes! that possessioun<br>I might of her have, that in all my lyfe<br>I clepen shall my quene and hertes wife.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And in the Court of Love to dwell for ay<br>My wille it is, and don thee sacrifice:<br>Daily with Diane eke to fight and fray,<br>And holden werre, as might well me suffice:<br>That goddes chaste I kepen in no wyse<br>To serve; a fig for all her chastitee!<br>Her lawe is for religiositee.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And thus gan finish preyer, lawde, and preise,<br>Which that I yove to Venus on my knee,<br>And in myne hert to ponder and to peise,<br>I gave anon hir image fressh bewtie;<br>'Heil to that figure sweet! and heil to thee,<br>Cupide,' quod I, and rose and yede my way;<br>And in the temple as I yede I sey</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>A shryne sormownting all in stones riche,<br>Of which the force was plesaunce to myn y,<br>With diamant or saphire; never liche<br>I have non seyn, ne wrought so wonderly.<br>So whan I met with Philobone, in hy<br>I gan demaund, 'Who[s] is this sepulture?'<br>'Forsoth,' quod she, 'a tender creature</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Is shryned there, and Pitè is her name.<br>She saw an egle wreke him on a fly,<br>And pluk his wing, and eke him, in his game,<br>And tender herte of that hath made her dy:<br>Eke she wold wepe, and morn right pitously<br>To seen a lover suffre gret destresse.<br>In all the court nas non that, as I gesse,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That coude a lover half so well availe,<br>Ne of his wo the torment or the rage<br>Aslaken, for he was sure, withouten faile,<br>That of his grief she coud the hete aswage.<br>In sted of Pitè, spedeth hot corage<br>The maters all of court, now she is dede;<br>I me report in this to womanhede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For weile and wepe, and crye, and speke, and pray,—<br>Women wold not have pitè on thy plaint;<br>Ne by that mene to ese thyn hart convey,<br>But thee receiven for their own talent:<br>And sey, that Pitè causith thee, in consent<br>Of rewth, to take thy service and thy pain<br>In that thow mayst, to plese thy souverain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But this is councell, keep it secretly;'<br>Quod she, 'I nold, for all the world abowt,<br>The Quene of Love it wist; and wit ye why?<br>For if by me this matter springen out,<br>In court no lenger shuld I, owt of dowt,<br>Dwellen, but shame in all my life endry:<br>Now kepe it close,' quod she, 'this hardely.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Well, all is well! Now shall ye seen,' she seid,<br>'The feirest lady under son that is:<br>Come on with me, demene you liche a maid,<br>With shamefast dred, for ye shall spede, y-wis,<br>With her that is the mir[th] and joy and blis:<br>But sumwhat straunge and sad of her demene<br>She is, be ware your countenaunce be sene,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Nor over light, ne recheless, ne to bold,<br>Ne malapert, ne rinning with your tong;<br>For she will you abeisen and behold,<br>And you demaund, why ye were hens so long<br>Out of this court, without resort among:<br>And Rosiall her name is hote aright,<br>Whose harte as yet [is] yeven to no wight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And ye also ben, as I understond,<br>With love but light avaunced, by your word;<br>Might ye, by hap, your fredom maken bond,<br>And fall in grace with her, and wele accord,<br>Well might ye thank the god of Love and lord;<br>For she that ye sawe in your dreme appere,<br>To love suche one, what are ye than the nere?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Yit wot ye what? as my rememb[e]raunce<br>Me yevith now, ye fayn, where that ye sey<br>That ye with love had never acqueintaunce,<br>Sauf in your dreme right late this other day:<br>Why, yis, parde! my life, that durst I lay,<br>That ye were caught upon an heth, when I<br>Saw you complain, and sigh full pitously;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Within an erber, and a garden fair<br>With floures growe, and herbes vertuous,<br>Of which the savour swete was and the eyr,<br>There were your-self full hoot and amorous:<br>Y-wis, ye ben to nice and daungerous;<br>A! wold ye now repent, and love som new?'—<br>'Nay, by my trouth,' I seid, 'I never knew</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The goodly wight, whos I shall be for ay:<br>Guyde me the lord that love hath made and me.'<br>But furth we went in-till a chambre gay,<br>There was Rosiall, womanly to see,<br>Whose stremes sotell-persing of her ee<br>Myn hart gan thrill for bewtie in the stound:<br>'Alas,' quod I, 'who hath me yeve this wound?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And than I dred to speke, till at the last<br>I gret the lady reverently and wele,<br>Whan that my sigh was gon and over-past;<br>And down on knees full humbly gan I knele,<br>Beseching her my fervent wo to kele,<br>For there I took full purpose in my mind,<br>Unto her grace my painfull hart to bind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For if I shall all fully her discryve,<br>Her hede was round, by compace of nature,<br>Her here as gold,—she passed all on-lyve,—<br>And lily forhede had this crëature,<br>With lovelich browes, flawe, of colour pure,<br>Bytwene the which was mene disseveraunce<br>From every brow, to shewe[n] a distaunce.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Her nose directed streight, and even as lyne,<br>With fourm and shap therto convenient,<br>In which the goddes milk-whyt path doth shine;<br>And eke her yen ben bright and orient<br>As is the smaragde, unto my juggement,<br>Or yet thise sterres hevenly, smale and bright;<br>Her visage is of lovely rede and whyte.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Her mouth is short, and shit in litell space,<br>Flaming somdele, not over-rede, I mene,<br>With pregnant lippes, and thik to kiss, percas;<br>(For lippes thin, not fat, but ever lene,<br>They serve of naught, they be not worth a bene;<br>For if the basse ben full, there is delyt,<br>Maximian truly thus doth he wryte.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But to my purpose:—I sey, whyte as snow<br>Ben all her teeth, and in order thay stond<br>Of oon stature; and eke hir breth, I trow,<br>Surmounteth alle odours that ever I fond<br>In sweetnes; and her body, face, and hond<br>Ben sharply slender, so that from the hede<br>Unto the fote, all is but womanhede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I hold my pees of other thinges hid:—<br>Here shall my soul, and not my tong, bewray:—<br>But how she was arrayed, if ye me bid,<br>That shall I well discover you and say:<br>A bend of gold and silk, full fressh and gay;<br>With here in tresse[s], browdered full well,<br>Right smothly kept, and shyning every-del.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>About her nek a flour of fressh devyse<br>With rubies set, that lusty were to sene;<br>And she in gown was, light and somer-wyse,<br>Shapen full wele, the colour was of grene,<br>With aureat seint about her sydes clene,<br>With dyvers stones, precious and riche:—<br>Thus was she rayed, yet saugh I never her liche.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For if that Jove had [but] this lady seyn,<br>Tho Calixto ne [yet] Alcmenia,<br>Thay never hadden in his armes leyn;<br>Ne he had loved the faire Europa;<br>Ye, ne yet Dane ne Antiopa!<br>For al their bewtie stood in Rosiall;<br>She semed lich a thing celestiall</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In bowntè, favor, port, and semliness,<br>Plesaunt of figure, mirrour of delyt,<br>Gracious to sene, and rote of gentilness,<br>With angel visage, lusty rede and white:<br>There was not lak, sauf daunger had a lite<br>This goodly fressh in rule and governaunce;<br>And somdel straunge she was, for her plesaunce.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And truly sone I took my leve and went,<br>Whan she had me enquyred what I was;<br>For more and more impressen gan the dent<br>Of Loves dart, whyl I beheld her face;<br>And eft again I com to seken grace,<br>And up I put my bill, with sentence clere<br>That folwith aftir; rede and ye shall here.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'O ye [the] fressh, of [all] bewtie the rote,<br>That nature hath fourmed so wele and made<br>Princesse and Quene! and ye that may do bote<br>Of all my langour with your wordes glad!<br>Ye wounded me, ye made me wo-bestad;<br>Of grace redress my mortall grief, as ye<br>Of all myne harm the verrey causer be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Now am I caught, and unwar sodenly,<br>With persant stremes of your yën clere,<br>Subject to ben, and serven you meekly,<br>And all your man, y-wis, my lady dere,<br>Abiding grace, of which I you requere,<br>That merciles ye cause me not to sterve;<br>But guerdon me, liche as I may deserve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For, by my troth, the dayes of my breth<br>I am and will be youre in wille and hert,<br>Pacient and meek, for you to suffre deth<br>If it require; now rewe upon my smert;<br>And this I swere, I never shall out-stert<br>From Loves Court for none adversitee,<br>So ye wold rewe on my distresse and me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>My destinee, my fate, and ure I bliss,<br>That have me set to ben obedient<br>Only to you, the flour of all, y-wis:<br>I trust to Venus never to repent;<br>For ever redy, glad, and diligent<br>Ye shall me finde in service to your grace,<br>Till deth my lyfe out of my body race.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Humble unto your excellence so digne,<br>Enforcing ay my wittes and delyt<br>To serve and plese with glad herte and benigne,<br>And ben as Troilus, [old] Troyes knight,<br>Or Antony for Cleopatre bright,<br>And never you me thinkes to reney:<br>This shall I kepe unto myne ending-day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Enprent my speche in your memorial<br>Sadly, my princess, salve of all my sore!<br>And think that, for I wold becomen thrall,<br>And ben your own, as I have seyd before,<br>Ye must of pity cherissh more and more<br>Your man, and tender aftir his desert,<br>And yive him corage for to ben expert.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For where that oon hath set his herte on fire,<br>And findeth nether refut ne plesaunce,<br>Ne word of comfort, deth will quyte his hire.<br>Allas! that there is none allegeaunce<br>Of all their wo! allas, the gret grevaunce<br>To love unloved! But ye, my Lady dere,<br>In other wyse may govern this matere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Truly, gramercy, frend, of your good will,<br>And of your profer in your humble wyse!<br>But for your service, take and kepe it still.<br>And where ye say, I ought you well cheryse,<br>And of your gref the remedy devyse,<br>I know not why: I nam acqueinted well<br>With you, ne wot not sothly where ye dwell.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'In art of love I wryte, and songes make,<br>That may be song in honour of the King<br>And Quene of Love; and than I undertake,<br>He that is sad shall than full mery sing.<br>And daunger[o]us not ben in every thing<br>Beseche I you, but seen my will and rede,<br>And let your aunswer put me out of drede.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'What is your name? reherse it here, I pray,<br>Of whens and where, of what condicion<br>That ye ben of? Let see, com of and say!<br>Fain wold I know your disposicion:—<br>Ye have put on your old entencion;<br>But what ye mene to servë me I noot,<br>Sauf that ye say ye love me wonder hoot.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'My name? alas, my hert, why [make it straunge?]<br>Philogenet I cald am fer and nere,<br>Of Cambrige clerk, that never think to chaunge<br>Fro you that with your hevenly stremes clere<br>Ravissh myne herte and gost and all in-fere:<br>This is the first, I write my bill for grace,<br>Me think, I see som mercy in your face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And what I mene, by god that al hath wrought,<br>My bill, that maketh finall mencion,<br>That ye ben, lady, in myne inward thought<br>Of all myne hert without offencion,<br>That I best love, and have, sith I begon<br>To draw to court. Lo, than! what might I say?<br>I yeld me here, [lo!] unto your nobley.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And if that I offend, or wilfully<br>By pompe of hart your precept disobey,<br>Or doon again your will unskillfully,<br>Or greven you, for ernest or for play,<br>Correct ye me right sharply than, I pray,<br>As it is sene unto your womanhede,<br>And rewe on me, or ellis I nam but dede.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Nay, god forbede to feffe you so with grace,<br>And for a worde of sugred eloquence,<br>To have compassion in so litell space!<br>Than were it tyme that som of us were hens!<br>Ye shall not find in me suche insolence.<br>Ay? what is this? may ye not suffer sight?<br>How may ye loke upon the candill-light,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That clere[r] is and hotter than myn y?<br>And yet ye seid, the bemes perse and frete:—<br>How shall ye than the candel-[l]ight endry?<br>For wel wot ye, that hath the sharper hete.<br>And there ye bid me you correct and bete,<br>If ye offend,—nay, that may not be doon:<br>There come but few that speden here so soon.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Withdraw your y, withdraw from presens eke:<br>Hurt not yourself, through foly, with a loke;<br>I wold be sory so to make you seke:<br>A woman shuld be ware eke whom she toke:<br>Ye beth a clark:—go serchen [in] my boke,<br>If any women ben so light to win:<br>Nay, byde a whyl, though ye were all my kin.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So soon ye may not win myne harte, in trouth<br>The gyse of court will seen your stedfastness,<br>And as ye don, to have upon you rewth.<br>Your own desert, and lowly gentilness,<br>That will reward you joy for heviness;<br>And though ye waxen pale, and grene and dede,<br>Ye must it use a while, withouten drede,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And it accept, and grucchen in no wyse;<br>But where as ye me hastily desyre<br>To been to love, me think, ye be not wyse.<br>Cese of your language! cese, I you requyre!<br>For he that hath this twenty yere ben here<br>May not obtayn; than marveile I that ye<br>Be now so bold, of love to trete with me.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Ah! mercy, hart, my lady and my love,<br>My rightwyse princesse and my lyves guyde!<br>Now may I playn to Venus all above,<br>That rewthles ye me give these woundes wyde!<br>What have I don? why may it not betyde,<br>That for my trouth I may received be?<br>Alas! your daunger and your crueltè!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In wofull hour I got was, welaway!<br>In wofull hour [y-]fostred and y-fed,<br>In wofull hour y-born, that I ne may<br>My supplicacion swetely have y-sped!<br>The frosty grave and cold must be my bedde,<br>Without ye list your grace and mercy shewe,<br>Deth with his axe so faste on me doth hewe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So greet disese and in so litell whyle,<br>So litell joy, that felte I never yet;<br>And at my wo Fortune ginneth to smyle,<br>That never erst I felt so harde a fit:<br>Confounded ben my spirits and my wit,<br>Till that my lady take me to her cure,<br>Which I love best of erthely crëature.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But that I lyke, that may I not com by;<br>Of that I playn, that have I habondaunce;<br>Sorrow and thought, thay sit me wounder ny;<br>Me is withhold that might be my plesaunce:<br>Yet turne again, my worldly suffisaunce!<br>O lady bright! and save your feithfull true,<br>And, er I die, yet on[e]s upon me rewe.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>With that I fell in sounde, and dede as stone,<br>With colour slain, and wan as assh[es] pale;<br>And by the hand she caught me up anon,<br>'Aryse,' quod she, 'what? have ye dronken dwale?<br>Why slepen ye? it is no nightertale.'<br>'Now mercy, swete,' quod I, y-wis affrayed:<br>'What thing,' quod she, 'hath mad you so dismayed?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Now wot I well that ye a lover be,<br>Your hewe is witnesse in this thing,' she seid:<br>'If ye were secret, [ye] might know,' quod she,<br>'Curteise and kind, all this shuld be allayed:<br>And now, myn herte! all that I have misseid,<br>I shall amend, and set your harte in ese.'<br>'That word it is,' quod I, 'that doth me plese.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'But this I charge, that ye the statuts kepe,<br>And breke thaim not for sloth nor ignoraunce.'<br>With that she gan to smyle and laughen depe.<br>'Y-wis,' quod I, 'I will do your plesaunce;<br>The sixteenth statut doth me grete grevaunce,<br>But ye must that relesse or modifie.'<br>'I graunt,' quod she, 'and so I will truly.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And softly than her colour gan appeare,<br>As rose so rede, through-out her visage all,<br>Wherefore me think it is according here,<br>That she of right be cleped Rosiall.<br>Thus have I won, with wordes grete and small,<br>Some goodly word of hir that I love best,<br>And trust she shall yit set myne harte in rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Goth on,' she seid to Philobone, 'and take<br>This man with you, and lede him all abowt<br>Within the court, and shew him, for my sake,<br>What lovers dwell withinne, and all the rowte<br>Of officers; for he is, out of dowte,<br>A straunger yit:'—'Come on,' quod Philobone,<br>'Philogenet, with me now must ye gon.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And stalking soft with esy pace, I saw<br>About the king [ther] stonden environ,<br>Attendaunce, Diligence, and their felaw<br>Fortherer, Esperaunce, and many oon;<br>Dred-to-offend there stood, and not aloon;<br>For there was eke the cruell adversair,<br>The lovers fo, that cleped is Dispair,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Which unto me spak angrely and fell,<br>And said, my lady me deceiven shall:<br>'Trowest thow,' quod she, 'that all that she did tell,<br>Is true? Nay, nay, but under hony gall!<br>Thy birth and hers, [they] be nothing egall:<br>Cast of thyn hart, for all her wordes whyte,<br>For in good faith she lovith thee but a lyte.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And eek remember, thyn habilite<br>May not compare with hir, this well thow wot.'<br>Ye, than cam Hope and said, 'My frend, let be!<br>Beleve him not: Dispair, he ginneth dote.'<br>'Alas,' quod I, 'here is both cold and hot:<br>The tone me biddeth love, the toder nay;<br>Thus wot I not what me is best to say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>But well wot I, my lady graunted me,<br>Truly to be my woundes remedy;<br>Her gentilness may not infected be<br>With dobleness, thus trust I till I dy.'<br>So cast I void Dispaires company,<br>And taken Hope to councell and to frend.<br>'Ye, kepe that wele,' quod Philobone, 'in mind.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And there besyde, within a bay-window,<br>Stood oon in grene, full large of brede and length,<br>His berd as blak as fethers of the crow;<br>His name was Lust, of wounder might and strength;<br>And with Delyt to argue there he thenkth,<br>For this was all his [hool] opinion,<br>That love was sin! and so he hath begon</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>To reson fast, and legge auctoritè:<br>'Nay,' quod Delyt, 'love is a vertue clere,<br>And from the soule his progress holdeth he:<br>Blind appetyt of lust doth often stere,<br>And that is sin: for reson lakketh there,<br>For thow [dost] think thy neigbours wyfe to win:<br>Yit think it well that love may not be sin;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For god and seint, they love right verely,<br>Void of all sin and vice: this knowe I wele,<br>Affeccion of flessh is sin, truly;<br>But verray love is vertue, as I fele,<br>For love may not thy freil desire akele:<br>For [verray] love is love withouten sin.'<br>'Now stint,' quoth Lust, 'thow spekest not worth a pin.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And there I left thaim in their arguing,<br>Roming ferther in the castell wyde,<br>And in a corner Lier stood talking<br>Of lesings fast, with Flatery there besyde;<br>He seid that women were attire of pryde,<br>And men were founde of nature variaunt,<br>And coud be false, and shewen beau semblaunt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Than Flatery bespake and seid, y-wis:<br>'See, so she goth on patens faire and fete,<br>Hit doth right wele: what prety man is this<br>That rometh here? Now truly, drink ne mete<br>Nede I not have; myne hart for joye doth bete<br>Him to behold, so is he goodly fressh:<br>It semeth for love his harte is tender nessh.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>This is the court of lusty folk and glad,<br>And wel becometh their habit and array:<br>O why be som so sorry and so sad,<br>Complaining thus in blak and whyte and gray?<br>Freres they ben, and monkes, in good fay:<br>Alas, for rewth! greet dole it is to seen,<br>To see thaim thus bewaile and sory been.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>See how they cry and wring their handes whyte,<br>For they so sone went to religion!<br>And eke the nonnes, with vaile and wimple plight,<br>There thought that they ben in confusion:<br>'Alas,' thay sayn, 'we fayn perfeccion,<br>In clothes wide, and lak our libertè;<br>But all the sin mote on our frendes be.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For, Venus wot, we wold as fayn as ye,<br>That ben attired here and wel besene,<br>Desiren man, and love in our degree,<br>Ferme and feithfull, right as wold the quene:<br>Our frendes wikke, in tender youth and grene,<br>Ayenst our will made us religious;<br>That is the cause we morne and wailen thus.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Than seid the monks and freres in the tyde,<br>'Wel may we curse our abbeys and our place,<br>Our statuts sharp, to sing in copes wyde,<br>Chastly to kepe us out of loves grace,<br>And never to fele comfort ne solace;<br>Yet suffre we the hete of loves fire,<br>And after than other haply we desire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>O Fortune cursed, why now and wherefore<br>Hast thow,' they seid, 'beraft us libertè,<br>Sith nature yave us instrument in store,<br>And appetyt to love and lovers be?<br>Why mot we suffer suche adversitè,<br>Diane to serve, and Venus to refuse?<br>Ful often sith this matier doth us muse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>We serve and honour, sore ayenst our will,<br>Of chastitè the goddes and the quene;<br>Us leffer were with Venus byden still,<br>And have reward for love, and soget been<br>Unto thise women courtly, fressh, and shene.<br>Fortune, we curse thy whele of variaunce!<br>There we were wele, thou revest our plesaunce.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thus leve I thaim, with voice of pleint and care,<br>In raging wo crying ful pitously;<br>And as I yede, full naked and full bare<br>Some I behold, looking dispitously,<br>On povertè that dedely cast their y;<br>And 'Welaway!' they cried, and were not fain,<br>For they ne might their glad desire attain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For lak of richesse worldely and of gode,<br>They banne and curse, and wepe, and sein, 'Alas,<br>That poverte hath us hent that whylom stode<br>At hartis ese, and free and in good case!<br>But now we dar not shew our-self in place,<br>Ne us embolde to duelle in company,<br>There-as our hart wold love right faithfully.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And yet againward shryked every nonne,<br>The prang of love so straineth thaim to cry:<br>'Now wo the tyme,' quod thay, 'that we be boun!<br>This hateful ordre nyse will don us dy!<br>We sigh and sobbe, and bleden inwardly,<br>Freting our-self with thought and hard complaint,<br>That ney for love we waxen wode and faint.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And as I stood beholding here and there,<br>I was war of a sort full languisshing,<br>Savage and wild of loking and of chere,<br>Their mantels and their clothës ay tering;<br>And oft thay were of nature complaining,<br>For they their members lakked, fote and hand,<br>With visage wry and blind, I understand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>They lakked shap, and beautie to preferre<br>Theim-self in love: and seid, that god and kind<br>Hath forged thaim to worshippen the sterre,<br>Venus the bright, and leften all behind<br>His other werkes clene and out of mind:<br>'For other have their full shape and bewtee,<br>And we,' quod they, 'ben in deformitè.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And nye to thaim there was a company,<br>That have the susters waried and misseid;<br>I mene, the three of fatall destinè,<br>That be our werdes; and sone, in a brayd,<br>Out gan they cry as they had been affrayd,<br>'We curse,' quod thay, 'that ever hath nature<br>Y-formed us, this wofull lyfe t'endure!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And there he was contrite, and gan repent,<br>Confessing hole the wound that Citherè<br>Hath with the dart of hot desire him sent,<br>And how that he to love must subjet be:<br>Than held he all his skornes vanitè,<br>And seid, that lovers lede a blisful lyfe,<br>Yong men and old, and widow, maid and wyfe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Bereve me, goddesse,' quod he, '[of] thy might,<br>My skornes all and skoffes, that I have<br>No power forth, to mokken any wight,<br>That in thy service dwell: for I did rave:<br>This know I well right now, so god me save,<br>And I shal be the chief post of thy feith,<br>And love uphold, the révers who-so seith.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Dissemble stood not fer from him in trouth,<br>With party mantill, party hood and hose;<br>And said, he had upon his lady rowth,<br>And thus he wound him in, and gan to glose<br>Of his entent full doble, I suppose:<br>And al the world, he seid, he loved it wele;<br>But ay, me thoughte, he loved her nere a dele.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Eek Shamefastness was there, as I took hede,<br>That blusshed rede, and durst nat ben a-knowe<br>She lover was, for thereof had she drede;<br>She stood and hing her visage down alowe;<br>But suche a sight it was to sene, I trow,<br>As of these roses rody on their stalk:<br>There cowd no wight her spy to speke or talk</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In loves art, so gan she to abasshe,<br>Ne durst not utter all her privitè:<br>Many a stripe and many a grevous lasshe<br>She gave to thaim that wolden loveres be,<br>And hindered sore the simpill comonaltè,<br>That in no wyse durst grace and mercy crave;<br>For were not she, they need but ask and have;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Where if they now approchin for to speke,<br>Than Shamefastness returnith thaim again:<br>Thay think, if we our secret councell breke,<br>Our ladies will have scorn on us, certain,<br>And [per]aventure thinken greet disdain:<br>Thus Shamefastness may bringin in Dispeir,<br>Whan she is dede, the toder will be heir.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Com forth, Avaunter! now I ring thy bell!<br>I spyed him sone; to god I make a-vowe,<br>He loked blak as fendes doth in hell:—<br>'The first,' quod he, 'that ever [I] did wowe,<br>Within a word she com, I wot not how,<br>So that in armes was my lady free;<br>And so hath ben a thousand mo than she.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>In Englond, Bretain, Spain, and Pycardie,<br>Arteys, and Fraunce, and up in hy Holand,<br>In Burgoyne, Naples, and [in] Italy,<br>Naverne, and Grece, and up in hethen land,<br>Was never woman yit that wold withstand<br>To ben at myn commaundement, whan I wold:<br>I lakked neither silver, coin, ne gold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And there I met with this estate and that;<br>And here I broched her, and here, I trow:<br>Lo! there goth oon of myne; and wot ye what?<br>Yon fressh attired have I leyd full low;<br>And such oon yonder eke right well I know:<br>I kept the statut whan we lay y-fere;<br>And yet yon same hath made me right good chere.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Thus hath Avaunter blowen every-where<br>Al that he knowith, and more, a thousand-fold;<br>His auncetrye of kin was to Lière,<br>For firste he makith promise for to hold<br>His ladies councell, and it not unfold;<br>Wherfore, the secret when he doth unshit,<br>Than lyeth he, that all the world may wit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For falsing so his promise and behest,<br>I wounder sore he hath such fantasie;<br>He lakketh wit, I trowe, or is a best,<br>That can no bet him-self with reson gy.<br>By myn advice, Love shal be contrarie<br>To his availe, and him eke dishonoure,<br>So that in court he shall no more sojoure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Take hede,' quod she, this litell Philobone,<br>'Where Envy rokketh in the corner yond,<br>And sitteth dirk; and ye shall see anone<br>His lenë bodie, fading face and hond;<br>Him-self he fretteth, as I understond;<br>Witnesse of Ovid Methamorphosose;<br>The lovers fo he is, I wil not glose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>For where a lover thinketh him promote,<br>Envy will grucch, repyning at his wele;<br>Hit swelleth sore about his hartes rote,<br>That in no wyse he can not live in hele;<br>And if the feithfull to his lady stele,<br>Envy will noise and ring it round aboute,<br>And sey moche worse than don is, out of dowte.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And Prevy Thought, rejoysing of him-self,<br>Stood not fer thens in habit mervelous;<br>'Yon is,' thought [I], 'som spirit or some elf,<br>His sotill image is so curious:<br>How is,' quod I, 'that he is shaded thus<br>With yonder cloth, I not of what colour?'<br>And nere I went, and gan to lere and pore,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And frayned him [a] question full hard.<br>'What is,' quod I, 'the thing thou lovest best?<br>Or what is boot unto thy paines hard?<br>Me think, thow livest here in grete unrest;<br>Thow wandrest ay from south to est and west,<br>And est to north; as fer as I can see,<br>There is no place in court may holden thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Whom folowest thow? where is thy harte y-set?<br>But my demaunde asoile, I thee require.'<br>'Me thought,' quod he, 'no crëature may let<br>Me to ben here, and where-as I desire:<br>For where-as absence hath don out the fire,<br>My mery thought it kindleth yet again,<br>That bodily, me think, with my souverain</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I stand and speke, and laugh, and kisse, and halse,<br>So that my thought comforteth me full oft:<br>I think, god wot, though all the world be false,<br>I will be trewe; I think also how soft<br>My lady is in speche, and this on-loft<br>Bringeth myn hart to joye and [greet] gladnesse;<br>This prevey thought alayeth myne hevinesse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And what I thinke, or where to be, no man<br>In all this erth can tell, y-wis, but I:<br>And eke there nis no swallow swift, ne swan<br>So wight of wing, ne half [so] yern can fly;<br>For I can been, and that right sodenly,<br>In heven, in helle, in paradise, and here,<br>And with my lady, whan I will desire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I am of councell ferre and wyde, I wot,<br>With lord and lady, and their previtè<br>I wot it all; but be it cold or hot,<br>They shall not speke without licence of me,<br>I mene, in suche as sesonable be;<br>For first the thing is thought within the hert,<br>Ere any word out from the mouth astert.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And with that word Thought bad farewell and yede:<br>Eke furth went I to seen the courtes gyse:<br>And at the dore cam in, so god me spede,<br>Twey courteours of age and of assyse<br>Liche high, and brode, and, as I me advyse,<br>The Golden Love, and Leden Love thay hight:<br>The ton was sad, the toder glad and light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>. . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Yis! draw your hart, with all your force and might,<br>To lustiness, and been as ye have seid;<br>And think that I no drop of favour hight,<br>Ne never had to your desire obeyd,<br>Till sodenly, me thought, me was affrayed,<br>To seen you wax so dede of countenaunce;<br>And Pitè bad me don you some plasaunce.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Out of her shryne she roos from deth to lyve,<br>And in myne ere full prevely she spak,<br>'Doth not your servaunt hens away to dryve,<br>Rosiall,' quod she; and than myn harte [it] brak,<br>For tender reuth: and where I found moch lak<br>In your persoune, than I my-self bethought;<br>And seid, 'This is the man myne harte hath sought.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Gramercy, Pitè! might I but suffice<br>To yeve the lawde unto thy shryne of gold,<br>God wot, I wold; for sith that thou did rise<br>From deth to lyve for me, I am behold<br>To thanken you a thousand tymes told,<br>And eke my lady Rosiall the shene,<br>Which hath in comfort set myn harte, I wene.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And here I make myn protestacion,<br>And depely swere, as [to] myn power, to been<br>Feithfull, devoid of variacion,<br>And her forbere in anger or in tene,<br>And serviceable to my worldes quene,<br>With al my reson and intelligence,<br>To don her honour high and reverence.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I had not spoke so sone the word, but she,<br>My souverain, did thank me hartily,<br>And seid, 'Abyde, ye shall dwell still with me<br>Till seson come of May; for than, truly,<br>The King of Love and all his company<br>Shall hold his fest full ryally and well:'<br>And there I bode till that the seson fell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>On May-day, whan the lark began to ryse,<br>To matens went the lusty nightingale<br>Within a temple shapen hawthorn-wise;<br>He might not slepe in all the nightertale,<br>But 'Domine labia,' gan he crye and gale,<br>'My lippes open, Lord of Love, I crye,<br>And let my mouth thy preising now bewrye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The eagle sang 'Venite, bodies all,<br>And let us joye to love that is our helth.'<br>And to the deske anon they gan to fall,<br>And who come late, he pressed in by stelth:<br>Than</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anonymous+Olde+English">Anonymous Olde English</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=346097" data-title="The Court Of Love de Anonymous Olde English" data-description="With timerous hert and trembling hand of drede,
Of cunning naked, bare of eloquence,
Unto the flour of port in womanhede
I write, as he that non intelligence
Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence;
Sauf that me list my writing to convey,
In that I..."></div>
</div>
</div>