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The Tower of Doctrine - (from the History of Graunde Amoure)

I loked about, and sawe a craggy roche
Farre in the west, neare to the element;
And as I dyd then unto it approche,
Upon the toppe I sawe refulgent
The royall tower of Morall Document,
Made of fine copper, with turrettes fayre and hye,
Which against Phebus shone so marveylously;

That for the very perfect bryghtnes,
What of the tower and of the cleare sunne,
I coulde nothyng beholde the goodliness
Of that palaice whereas Doctrine did wonee;
Tyll at the last, with mysty wyndes donne,
The radiant bryghtnes of golden Phebus
Auster gan cover with clowde tenebrus.

Then to the tower I drewe nere and nere,
And often mused of the great hyghnes
Of the craggy rocke, whiche quadrant did appeare;
But the fayre tower so much of ryches
Was all about sexangled doubtles,
Gargeyled with greyhounds and with many lyons,
Made of fyne golde, with divers sundry dragons.

The little 'turretts' with ymages of golde
About was set, whiche with the wynde aye moved.
With propre vices that I did well beholde,
About the towers in sundry wyse they hoved,
Wyth goodly pypes in their mouthes ituned,
That with the wynde they pyped a daunce,
Iclipped Amour de la hault plesaunce.

The toure was great, of marvelous wyndes,
To whyche there was no way to passe but one,
Into the toure for to have an intres;
A grece there was, ychesyled all of stone
Out of the rocke, on whiche men dyd gone
Up to the toure; an in lykewise dyd I,
Wyth bothe the grayhoundes in my company:

Tyll that I that I came to a ryall gate,
Where I sawe stondynge the goodly portres,
Whiche axed me from whence I came a-late?
To whome I gan in every thynge expresse
All myne adventure, chaunce, and busynesse,
And eke my name I tolde her every dell.
When she herde this, she lyked me ryght well.

Her name, she sayd, was called Countenaunce:
Into the 'base' courte she dyd me then lede,
Where was a fountayne depred of pleasance,
A noble sprynge, a ryall conduytehede,
Made of fyne golde enameled with reed,
And on the toppe foure dragons blewe, and stoute
Thys dulcet water in foure partyes dyd spout.

Of whyche there flowed foure ryvers ryght clere,
Sweter than Nylus or Ganges was theyr odoure,
Tygrys or Eufrates unto them no pere.
I dyd than taste the aromatyke lycoure,
Fragraunt of fume, swete as any floure,
And in my mouthe it had a marveylous cent
Of divers spyces; I knewe not what it ment.

And after thys father forth me brought
Dame Countenaunce into a goodly hall:
Of jasper stones it was wonderly wrought,
The wyndowes cleare, depured all of crystall,
And in the roufe on hye over all
Of golde was made a ryght crafty vyne;
Instede of grapes the rubies there did shyne.

The flore was paved with berall clarified,
With pillers made of stones precious,
Like a place of pleasure so gayely glorified,
It might be called a palaice glorious,
So muche delectable and solacious.
The hall was hanged, hye and circuler,
With cloth of arras in the rychest maner.

That treated well of a ful noble story,
Of the doubty waye to the tower perillous;
Howe a noble knyght should wynne the victory
Of many a serpente foule and odious:
***

poem by Stephen Hawes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pastime of Pleasure : The First Part.

Here begynneth the passe tyme of pleasure.

Ryyght myghty prynce / & redoubted souerayne
Saylynge forthe well / in the shyppe of grace
Ouer the wawes / of this lyfe vncertayne
Ryght towarde heuen / to haue dwellynge place
Grace dothe you guyde / in euery doubtfull cace
Your gouernaunce / dothe euermore eschewe
The synne of slouthe / enemy to vertewe
Grace stereth well / the grace of god is grete
Whiche you hathe brought / to your ryall se
And in your ryght / it hath you surely sette
Aboue vs all / to haue the soueraynte
Whose worthy power / and regall dygnyte
All our rancour / and our debate and ceace
Hath to vs brought / bothe welthe reste and peace
Frome whome dyscendeth / by the ryghtfull lyne
Noble pryuce Henry / to succede the crowne
That in his youthe / dothe so clerely shyne
In euery vertu / castynge the vyce adowne
He shall of fame / attayne the hye renowne
No doubte but grace / shall hym well enclose
Whiche by trewe ryght / sprange of the reed rose
Your noble grace / and excellent hyenes
For to accepte / I beseche ryght humbly
This lytell boke / opprest with rudenes
Without rethorycke / or colour crafty
Nothynge I am / experte in poetry
As the monke of Bury / floure of eloquence
Whiche was in tyme / of grete excellence
Of your predecessour / the .v. kynge henry
Vnto whose grace / he dyde present
Ryght famous bokes / of parfyte memory
Of his faynynge with termes eloquent
Whose fatall fyccyons / are yet permanent
Grounded on reason / with clowdy fygures
He cloked the trouthe / of all his scryptures
The lyght of trouthe / I lacke connynge to cloke
To drawe a curtayne / I dare not to presume
Nor hyde my mater / with a mysty smoke
My rudenes connynge / dothe so sore cōsume
Yet as I maye / I shall blowe out a fume
To hyde my mynde / vnderneth a fable
By conuert colour / well and probable
Besechynge your grace / to pardon myne ignoraunce
Whiche this fayned fable / to eschewe ydlenesse
Hane so compyled / now without doubtaunce
For to present / to your hye worthynesse
To folowe the trace / and all the parfytenesse
Of my mayster Lydgate / with due exercyse
Suche fayned tales / I do fynde and deuyse
For vnder a colour / a truthe maye aryse
As was the guyse / in olde antyquyte
Of the poetes olde / a tale to surmyse
To cloke the trouthe / of theyr infyrmyte
Or yet on Ioye / to haue moralyte
I me excuse / yf by neclygence
That I do offende / for lacke of scyence

How graunde Amoure walked in a medowe & met with fame enuyronned with tongues of fyre. ca. i.

Whan Phebus entred was / in Gemyny
Shynynge aboue / in his fayre golden spere
And horned Dyane / than but one degre
In the Crabbe hadde entred / fayre and clere
Whan that Aurora / dyde well appere
In the depured ayre / and cruddy fyrmament
Forthe than I walked / without impedyment
In to a medowe / bothe gaye and gloryous
Whiche Flora depaynted with many a colour
Lyke a place of pleasure / most solacyous
Encensynge out / the aromatyke odoure
Of zepherus brethe / whiche that euery floure
Throughe his fume / dothe alwaye engendre
So as I went / amonge the floures tendre
By sodayne chaunce / a fayre pathe I founde
On whiche I loked / and ryght ofte I mused
And than all aboute / I behelde the grounde
With the fayre pathe / whiche I sawe so vsed
My chaunce or fortune / I nothynge refused
But in the pathe / forthe I went a pace
To knowe whyther / and vnto what place
It wolde me brynge / by ony symylytude
So forthe I wente / were it ryght or wronge
Tyll that I sawe / of ryall pulcrytude
Before my face / an ymage fayre and stronge
With two fayre handes / stretched out alonge
Vnto two hye wayes / there in pertycyon
And in the ryght hande / was this dyscrypcyon
This is the streyght waye / of contemplacyon
Vnto the Ioyfull toure pedurable
Who that wyll walke / vnto that mancyon
He must forsake / all thynges varyable
With the vayneglory / somoche deceyuable
And thoughe the waye / be harde and daungerous
The laste ende therof / shall be ryght precyous
And in the other hande / ryght fayre wryten was
This is the waye / of worldly dygnyte
Of the actyfe lyfe / who wyll in it passe
Vnto the toure / of fayre dame beaute
Fame shall tell hym / of the waye in certaynte
Vnto labell pucell / the fayre lady excellent
Aboue all other / in clere beaute splendent
I behelde ryght well / bothe the wayes twayne
And mused oft / whiche was best to take
The one was sharpe / the other was more playne
And vnto my selfe / I began to make
A sodayne argument / for I myght not slake
Of my grete musynge / of this ryall ymage
And of these two wayes / somoche in vsage
For this goodly pycture / was in altytude
Nyne fote and more / of fayre marble stone
Ryght well fauoured / and of grete fortytude
Thoughe it were made / full many yeres agone
Thus stode I musynge / my selfe all alone
By ryhgt longe tyme / but at the last I went
The actyfe waye / with all my hole entent
Thus all alone / I began to trauayle
Forthe on my waye / by longe contynuaunce
But often tymes / I hadde grete meruayle
Of the bypathes / so full of pleasaunce
Whiche for to take / I hadde grete doubtaunce
But euermore / as nere as I myght
I toke the waye / whiche went before me ryght
And at the last / whan Phebus in the west
Gan to auayle / with all his beames mery
Whan clere Dyana / in the fayre southest
Gan for to ryse / lyghtynge our emyspery
With cloudes clere / without the stormy pery
Me thought a fer / I hadde a vysyon
Of a pycture / of meruoylous facyon
To whiche I went / without lenger delaye
Beholdynge well / the ryght fayre purtrayture
Made of fyne copre / shynynge fayre and gaye
Full well truely / accordynge to mesure
And as I thought .ix. fote of stature
Yet in the breste / with lettres fayre ande blewe
Was wryten / a sentence olde and trewe
This is the waye / and the sytuacyon
Vnto the toure / of famous doctryne
Who that wyll lerne / must be ruled by reason
And with all his dylygence / he must enclyne
Slouthe to eschewe / and for to determyne
And set his hert / to be intellygyble
To a wyllynge herte / is nought Impossyble
Besyde the ymage / I adowne me sette
After my laboure / myselfe to repose
Tyll at the last / with a gaspynge nette
Slouthe my heed caught / with his hole purpose
It vayled not / the body for to dyspose
Agaynst the heed / whan it is applyed
The heed must rule / it can not be denyed
Thus as I satte / in a deedly slombre
Of a grete horne / I herde a ryall blast
With whiche I awoke / and hadde a grete wondre
From whens it came / it made me sore agast
I loked aboute / the nyght was well nere paste
And fayre golden Phebus / in the morowe graye
With cloude reed began / to breke the daye
I sawe come rydynge / in a valaye ferre
A goodly lady / enuyronned aboute
With tongues of fyre / as bryght as ony sterre
That fyry flambes / ensensed alwaye out
Whiche I behelde / and was in grete doubt
Her palfraye swyfte / rennynge as the wynde
With two whyte grehoundes / that were not behynde
Whan that these grehoundes / had me so espyed
With faunynge chere / of grete humylyte
In goodly hast / they fast vnto me hyed
I mused why / and wherfore it shoulde be
But I welcomed them / in euery degre
They leped ofte / and were of me ryght fayne
I suffred them / and cherysshed them agayne
Theyr colers were of golde / and of tyssue fyne
Wherin theyr names / appered by scypture
Of Dyamondes / that clerely do shyne
The lettres were grauen fayre and pure
To rede rheyr names / I dyde my besy cure
The one was gouernaunce / the other named grace
Than was I gladde / of all this sodayne cace
And than the lady / with fyry flame
Of brennynge tongues / was in my presence
Vpon her palfraye / whiche hadde vnto name
Pegase the swyfte / so fayre in excellence
Whiche somtyme longed / with his premynence
To kynge Percyus / the sone of Iubyter
On whome he rode / by the worlde so fer
To me she sayde / she meruayled moche why
That her grehounde / shewed me that fauour
What was my name / she axed me treuly
To whome I sayde / it was la graunde Amour
Besechynge you / to be to me socour
To the toure of doctryne / and also me tell
Your propre name / and where you do dwell
My name quod she / in all the worlde is knowen
Yclypped Fame / in euery regyon
For I my horne / in sondry wyse haue blowen
After the dethe / of many a champyon
And with my tonges / haue made aye mencyon
Of theyr grete actes / agayne to reuyue
In flammynge tongues / for to abyde on lyue
It was the custome / in olde antyquyte
Whan the golden worlde / hadde domynacyon
And nature hygh / in her auctoryte
More stronger hadde / her operacyon
Than she hath nowe / in her dygressyon
The people than dyde / all theyr besy payne
After theyr dethe / in fame to lyue agayne
Recorde of Satourne / the fyrste kynge of Creete
Whiche in his youthe / throughe his dylygence
Founde fyrst plowynge / of the landes swete
And after this / by his grete sapyence
For the comyn profyte / and beneuolence
Of all metalles / he made deuysyon
One frome an other / by good prousyyon
And than also / as some poetes fayne
He founde shotynge / and drawenge of the bowe
Yet as of that / I am nothynge certayne
But for his connynge / of hye degre and lowe
He was well beloued / as I do well knowe
Throughe whose labour / and aye besy cure
His fame shall lyue / and shall ryght longe endure
In whose tyme reygned / also in Thessayle
A parte of Grece / the kynge Melyzyus
That was ryght stronge / and fyerce in batayle
By whose labour / as the story sheweth vs
He brake fyrst horses wylde and rygoryous
Techynge his men / on them ryght well to ryde
And he hymselfe / dyde fyrst the horse bestryde
Also Mynerue / the ryght hardy goddes
In the same tyme / of so hyghe renowne
Vaynquysshed Pallas / by her grete worthynesse
And fyrste made harneys / to leye his pryde adowne
Whose grete defence / in euery realme and towne
Was spredde aboute / for her hye chyualry
Whiche by her harneys / wanne the vyctory
Doth not remayne / yet in remembraunce
The famous actes / of the noble hercules
That so many monstres / put to vtteraunce
By his grete wysdome / and hye prowes
As the recule of Troye / bereth good wytnes
That in his tyme / he wolde no batayle take
But for the welthe / of the comyns sake
Thus the hole myndes / were euer fyxte and set
Of noble men / in olde tyme to deuyse
Suche thynges as were / to the comyn proffet
For in that tyme / suche was theyr goodly guyse
That after dethe theyr fame shoulde aryse
For to endure / and abyde in mynde
As yet in bokes / we maye them wryten fynde
O ye estates / surmountynge in nobesse
Remembre well the noble payyms all
How by theyr laboure / they wanne the hyenesse
Of worthy fame / to reygne memoryall
And them applyed / euer in specyall
Thynges to practyse / whiche shoulde prouffyte be
To the comyn welthe / and theyr heyres in fee

Of the swete reporte of Fame of the fayre lady la bel pucell in the toure of musyke. ca. ii.

And after this / fame gan to expresse
Of Ieoperdous waye / to the toure peryllous
And of the beaute / and the semelynesse
Of la bell pucell / so gaye and gloryons
That dwelled in the toure so meruaylous
Vnto whiche myght come / no maner of creature
But by grete laboure / and harde aduenture
For by the waye / there ly in wayte
Gyauntes grete dysfygured of nature
That all deuoureth / by theyr yll conceyte
Ageynst whose strength / there maye no man endure
They are so huge / and stronge out of mesure
With many serpentes / soule and odyous
In sundry lykenesse / blacke and tydeus
But behonde them / a grate see there is
Beyonde whiche see / there is a goodly lande
Moost full of fruyte / replete with Ioye and blysse
Of ryght fyne golde / appereth all the sande
In this fayre realme / where the toure dothe stande
Made all of golde / enameled aboute
With noble storyes / whiche do appere without
In whiche dwelleth / by grete auctoryte
Of la bell pucell / whiche is so fayre and bryght
To whome in beaute / no pere I can se
For lyke as Phebus / aboue all sterres in lyght
Whan that he is / in his spere aryght
Dothe excede / wieh his beames clere
So dothe her beaute / aboue other appeere
She is bothe good / aye wyse and vertuous
And also dyscended / of a noble lyne
Ryche / comly / ryght meke / and bounteous
All maner vertues / in her clerely shyne
No vyce of her / maye ryght longe domyne
And I dame fame / in euery nacyon
Of her do make / the same relacyon
Her swete reporte / so my herte set on fyre
With brennynge loue / moost hote and feruent
That her to se / I hadde grete desyre
Sayenge to fame / o lady excellent
I haue determyned / in my Iugement
For la bell pucell / the most fayre lady
To passe the waye / of so grete Ieopardy
You shall quod fame / atayne the vyctory
Yf you wyll do / as I shall to you saye
And all my lesson / retayne in memory
To the toure of doctryne / ye shall take your waye
You are now within / a dayes Iourneye
Bothe these grehounde / shall kepe you company
Loke that you cherysshe them full gentely
Ind countenaunce / the goodly portres
Shall let you in / full well and nobly
And also shewe you / of the parfytenes
Of all the seuen scyences / ryght notably
There in your mynde / you maye ententyfly
Vnto dame doctryne / gyue parfyte audyence
Whiche shall enfourme you / in euery scyence
Fare well she sayde / I maye not now abyde
Walke on your waye / with all your hole delyght
To the toure of doctryne / at this morow tyde
Ye shall to morowe / of it haue a syght
Kepe on your waye / now before you ryght
For I must hens / to specyfy the dedes
Of theyr wortynesse / accordynge to theyr medes
And with that she dyde / fro me departe
Vpon her stede / swyfter than the wynde
Whan she was gone / full wofull was my herte
With inwarde trouble / oppressed was my mynde
Yet were the grehoundes / lefte with me behynde
Whiche dyde me comforte / in my grete vyage
To the toure of doctryne / with theyr fawn&ybar;ge courage
So forthe I went / tossynge on my brayne
Gretely musynge / ouer hyll and vale
The waye was troublous / and ey nothynge playne
Tyll at the laste / I came to a dale
Beholdynge Phebus / declynynge lowe and pale
With my grehoundes / in the fayre twy lyght
I sate me downe / for to rest me all nyght
Slouthe vpon me / so fast began to crepe
That of fyne force / I downe me layde
Vpon an hyll / with my greyhoundes to slepe
Whan I was downe / I thought me well apayde
And to my selfe / these wordes than I sayde
Who wyll attayne / soone to his Iournays ende
To nourysshe slouthe / he may not condyscende

Now fame departed frome graunde amoure and lefte with hym gouernaunce and grace / and howe he wente to the toure of doctryne. Ca. .iii.

Thus than I slepte / tyll y&supert; Auroras beames
Gan for to sprede / aboute the fyrmament
And y&supere; clere sonne / with his golden streames
Began for to ryse / fayre in the oryent
Without Saturnus / blacke encombrement
And the lytell byrdes / makynge melodye
Dyde me awake / with theyr swete armonye
I loked aboute / and sawe a craggy roche
Ferre in the west / nere to the element
And as I dyde than / vnto it approche
Vpon the toppe / I sawe refulgent
The ryall toure / of morall document
Made of fyne coper / with turrettes fayre and hye
Whiche agaynst Phebus / shone so meruaylously
That for the veray perfyte bryghtnes
What of the toure / and of the clere sonne
I coude nothynge / beholde the goodlynes
Of that palays / where as doctryne dyde wonne
Tyll at the last / with mysty wyndes donne
The radyant bryghtnes / of golden Phebus
Auster gan couer / with cloudes tenebrus
Than to the toure / I drewe nere and nere
And often mused / of the grete hyghnes
Of the craggy rocke / whiche quadrant dyde appere
But the fayre toure / so moche of rychesse
Was all about / sexangled doubtles
Gargeylde with grehoundes / & with many lyons
Made of fyne golde / with dyuers sundry dragons
The lytell turrets / with ymages of golde
Aboute was set / wiche with the wynde aye moued
With propre vyces / that I dyde well beholde
Aboute the toures / in sondry wyse they houed
With goodly pypes / in theyr mouthes Ituned
That with the wynde / they pyped a daunce
Yclyped amour de la hault pleasaunce

Now he was lette in by Countenannce the porteres and of the meruaylous buyldynge of the same toure. Capitulo. iiii.

The toure was grete / & of meruaylous wydnes
To whiche there was / no way to passe but one
In to the toure / for to haue an intres
A grece there was / ychefyled all of stone
Out of the rocke / on whiche men dyde gone
Vp to the toure / and in lykewyse dyde I
With bothe the grehonndes in my company
Tyll that I came / to a ryall gate
Where I sawe stondynge / the goodly portres
Whiche axed me / from whens I came a late
To whome I gan / in euery thynge expresse
All myne aduenture / chaunce and busynesse
And eke my name / I tolde her euery dell
Whan she herde this / she lyked me ryght well
Her name she sayde / was called countenaunce
In to the besy courte / she dyde me than lede
Where was a fountauyne / depured of pleasaunce
A noble sprynge / a ryall conduyte hede
Made of syue golde / enameled with reed
And on the toppe / foure dragons blewe and stonte
This doulcet water / in foure partyes dyde spoute
Of whiche there flowed / foure ryuers ryght clere
Sweter than Nysus / or Ganges was theyr odoure
Tygrys or Eufrates / vnto them no pere
I dyde than tast / the aromatyke lycoure
Fragraunt of fume / swete as ony floure
And in my mouthe / it hadde a meruaylous cent
Of dyuers spyces / I knewe not what it ment
And after this / ferder forthe me brought
Dame countenaunce / in to a goodly hall
Of Iasper stones / it was wonderly wrought
The wyndowes clere / depured all of crystall
And in the rose / on hye ouer all
Of golde was made / a ryght crafty vyne
In stede of grapes / the rubyes there dyde shyne
The flore was paued / with berall claryfyed
With pyllours made / of stones precyous
Lyke a place of pleasure / so gayly gloryfyed
It myght be called / a palays gloryous
Somoche delectable / and solacyous
The hall was hanged / hye and cyrculer
With clothe of aras / in the rychest maner
That treted well / of a full noble story
Of the doughty waye / to the toure peryllous
How a noble knyght / shoulde wynne the vyctory
Of many a serpent / foule and odyous
And the fyrste mater / than appered thus
How at a venture / and by sodayne chaunce
He met with fame / by fortunes purueyaunce
Whiche dyde hym shewe / of the famous pulcrytude
Of la bell pucell / so clere in beaute
Excellynge all other / in euery symplytude
Nature her fauoured / so moche in degre
Whan he herde this / with feruent amyte
Accompaned with grace and gouernaunce
He toke his waye / without encombraunce
Vnto the ryght famous toure of lernynge
And so frome thens / vnto the toure of clyualry
Where he was made knyght / the noble kynge
Called Melyzyus / well and worthely
And ferthermore / it shewed full notably
Vpon the aras / ybrobred all of blewe
What was his name / with lettres all of grewe
Thus with his varlet / he toke on his waye
To the peryllous toure / and sytuacyon
Metynge foly / as he rode on his Iournaye
Rydynge on a mare / by grete yllusyon
After whome / ensued fast correccyon
And in her hande / a stronge knotted whyppe
At euery Iarte / she made hym for to skyppe
And than correccyon / brought la graunde amoure
Vnto the toure / where as he myght well se
Dyuers men / makynge ryght grete doloure
That defrauded women / by theyr duplycyte
Yet before this / in perfyte certaynte
As the aras / well dyde make relacyon
In Venus temple / he made his oblacyon
After whiche / he mette an hydeous gyaunt
Hauynge thre hedes of meruaylous kynde
With his grete strokes / he dyde hym daunt
Castynge hym downe / vnder the lynde
With force and myght / he dyde hym bynde
Strykynge of his hedes than euerychone
That of all thre hedes / he left not one
This terryble gyaunt / yet hadde a broder
Whiche graunde amoure / destryed also
Hauynge foure heedes / more than the oder
That vnto hym / wrought mykell wo
But he slewe soone / his mortall fo
Whiche was a grete gyaunt / with hedes seuen
To meruaylous / now for me to nenen
Yet more ouer / he put to vtteraunce
A venymous beest / of sundry lykenes
Of dyuers beestes / of ryght grete myschaunce
Wherof the pycture / bare good wytnes
For by his power / and his hye worthynesse
He dyde scomfyte / the wonderous serpent
Of the sceun metalles / made by enchauntement
And eke the clothe / made demonstracyon
How he weded / the grete lady beauteous
La bell pucell / in her owne domynacyon
After his labour / and passage daungerous
With solempne Ioye / and myrthe melodyous
This famous story / well pyctured was
In the fayre hall / vpon the aras
The marshall / yclyped was dame reason
And the yewres / also obseruaunce
The panter pleasaunce / at euery season
The good butler / curteys contynuaunce
And the chefe coke / was called temperaunce
The lady chambrelayne / named fydelyte
And the hygh stuarde lyberalyte
There sate dame doctryne / that lady gent
Whiche called me / vnto her presence
For to knowe / all the hole entent
Of my comynge / vnto her excellence
Madame I sayde / to lerne your scyence
I am comen / now me to apply
With all my cure / in perfyte study
And yet also / I vnto her than shewed
My name and purpose / without doublenes
For very grete Ioye / than were endued
Her crystall eyes / full of lowlenes
Whan that she knewe / for veray sykernesse
That I was he / that shoulde so attayue
La bell pucell / with my busy payne
And after this / I hadde ryght good chere
Of mete and drynke / there was grete pleynte
Nothynge I wanted / were it chepe or dere
Thus was I serued / with delycate dysshes daynte
And after this / with all humylyte
I went to doctryne / prayenge her good grace
For to assygne me / my fyrst lernynge place
Seuen doughters / moost experte iu connynge
Withouten foly / she hadde well engendred
As the seuen scyences / in vertue so shynynge
At whose encreace / there is grete thankes rendred
Vnto the moder / as nothynge surrendred
Her good name / and her dulcet sounde
Whiche dyde engendre / theyr orygynall grounde
And fyrst to gramer / she forthe me sent
To whose request / I dyde well obay
With dylygence / forth on my waye I went
Vp to a chambre / depaynted fayre and gay
And at the chambre / in ryght ryche araye
We were let in / by hygh auctoryte
Of the ryght noble / dame congruyte

How Scyence / sent hym fyrste / to gramer where he was receyued by dame Congruyte. ca. v.

The lady Gramer / in all humbly wyse
Dyde me receyue / in to her goodly scole
To whose doctryne / I dyde me aduertyse
For to attayne / in her artyke poole
Her gylted dewe / for to oppresse my doole
To whome I sayde / that I wolde gladly lerne
Her noble connynge / so that I myght decerne
What that it is / and why that it was made
To whiche she answered / than in specyall
Bycause that connynge / shoulde not pale ne fade
Of euery scyence / it is orygynall
Whiche dothe vs teche / euer in generall
In all good ordre / to speke dyrectly
And for to wryte / by true artogrofy
Somtyme in Egypte / reygned a noble kynge
Yclyped Euander / whiche dyde well abounde
In many vertues / especyally in lernynge
Whiche hadde a doughter / that by her study founde
To wryte true latyn / the fyrst parfyte grounde
Whose goodly name / as her story sayes
Was called Carmentis / in her lyuynge dayes
Thus in the tyme / of olde antyquyte
The noble phylozophres / with theyr hole delyght
For the comyn prouffyte / of all humanyte
Of the seuen scyences / for to knowe the ryght
They studyed / many a longe wynters nyght
Eche after other / theyr partes to expresse
This was theyr guyse / to eschewe ydlenesse
The pomped carkes / with fode delycyous
They dyde not fede / but to theyr sustynaunce
The folowed not / theyr flesshe so vycyous
But ruled it / by prudent gouernaunce
They were content / alwaye with suffysaunce
They coueyted not / no worldly treasure
For they knewe / that it myght not endure
But now a dayes / the contrary is vsed
To wynne the money / theyr studyes be all sette
The comyn prouffyte / is often refused
For well is he / that maye the money gette
Frome his neyghboure / without ony lette
They thynke nothynge / they shall from it pas
Whan all that is / shall be tourned to was
The brytell flesshe / nouryssher of vyces
Vnder the shadowe / of euyll slogardy
Must nede haunt / the carnall delyces
Whan that the brayne / by corrupte glotony
Vp so downe / is tourued than contrary
Frayle is the body / to grete vnhappynes
Whan that the heed / is full of dronkenes
So do they now / for they nothynge prepence
How cruell dethe / dothe them sore ensue
They are so blynded / in wordly neclygence
That to theyr meryte / they wyll nothynge renewe
The seuen scyences / theyr slouthe to eschewe
To an oders profyte / they take now no kepe
But to theyr owne / for to ete drynke and slepe
And all this dame gramer / tolde me euery dele
To whome I herkened / with all my dylygence
And after this / she taught me ryght well
Fyrst my donet / and than my accydence
I sette my mynde / with percynge influence
To lerne her scyence / the fyrst famous arte
Eschewynge ydlenes / and layenge all aparte
Madame quod I / for as moche as there be
Viii. partes of speche / I wolde knowe ryght fayne
What a nowne substantyue / is in his degre
And wherfore it is / so called certayne
To whome she answered / ryght gentely agayne
Sayenge alwaye / that a nowne substantyue
Mygh stande / without helpe of an adiectyue
The latyn worde / whiche that is referred
Vnto a thynge / whiche is substancyall
For a nowne substantyue / is well auerred
And with a gendre / is declynall
So all the eyght partes in generall
Are laten wordes / annexed properly
To euery speche / for to speke formally
And gramer is / the fyrste foundement
Of euery scyence / to haue construccyon
Who knewe gramer / without impedyment
Soulde perfytely haue intelleccyon
Of a lytterall cense / and moralyzacyon
To construe euery thynge ententyfly
The worde is gramer / well and ordynatly
By worde the worlde / was made orygynally
The hye kynge sayde / it was made incontynent
He dyde commaunde / all was made shortly
To the worlde / the worde is sentencyous Iugement
I marked well / dame gramers sentement
And of her than / I dyde take my lycence
Goynge to Logyke / with all my dylygence

How he was receyued / of Logyke. ca. vi.
So vp I went / vnto a chambre bryght
Where was wonte / to be a ryght fayre lady
Before whome than / it was my hole delyght
I kneled adowne / full well and mekely
Besechynge her / to enstructe me shortely
In her noble scyence / whiche is experyent
For man to knowe / in many an argument
You shall quod she / my scyence well lerne
In tyme and space / to your grete vtylyte
So that in my lokynge / you shall than decerne
A frende from fo / and good from inyquyte
Ryght from wronge / ye shall knowe in certaynte
My scyence is / all the yll to eschewe
And for to knowe / the false from the trewe
Who wyll take payne / to folowe the trace
In this wretched worlde / of trouthe & ryghtwysenes
In heuen aboue / he shall haue dwellynge place
And who that walbeth / the waye of derkenes
Spendynge his tyme / in worldly wretchednes
Amyddes the erth / in hell most horryble
He shall haue payne / nothynge extynguyssyble
So by logyke / is good perceyueraunce
To deuyde the good / and the euyll a sondre
It is alway / at mannes pleasaunce
To take the good / and cast the euyll vnder
Yf god made hell / it is therof no wonder
For to punysshe man / that hadde intellygence
To knowe good from yll / by trewe experyence
Logyke alwaye / doth make probacyon
Prouynge the pro / well from the contrary
In sundry wyse / by argumentacyon
Grounded on reason / well and wonderly
Who vnderstode / all logyke treuly
Nothynge by reason / myght be in pledynge
But he the trouthe / shoulde haue in knowlegynge
Her wyse doctryne / I marked in memory
And toke my leue / of her hye personne
Bycause that I myght no lenger tary
The yere was spente / and so ferre than goone
And of my lady / yet syght hadde I none
Whiche was abydynge / in the toure of musyke
Wherfore anone / I went to Rethoryke

How he was receyued of Rethoryke / and what Rethoryke is. ca. vii.

Than aboue Logyke / vp we went a stayre
In to a chambre / gayly gloryfyed
Strowed with floures / of all goodly ayre
Where sate a lady / gretely magnyfyed
And her trewe vesture / clerely puryfyed
And ouer her heed / that was bryght and shene,
She hadde a garlande / of the laurell grene
Her goodly chambre / was set all about
With depured myrrours / of speculacyon
The fragraunt fumes / dyde well encense out
All mysty vapours / of perturbacyon
More lyker was / her habytacyon
Vnto a place / whiche is celestyall
Than to a terrayne / mancyon fatall
Before whome / than I dyde knele a downe
Sayenge o sterre / of famous eloquence
O gylted goddesse / of the hygh renowne
Enspyred / with the heuenly influence
Of the doulcet well / of complacence
Vpon my mynde / with dewe aromatyke
Dystyll adowne / thy lusty Rethoryke
And depaynt my tonge / with thy ryall floures
Of delycate odoures / that I maye ensue
In my purpose / to glade myne audytoures
And with thy power / that thou me endue
To moralyse / thy lytterall censes trewe
And clense awaye / the myst of ygnoraunce
With depured beames / of goodly ordynaunce
With humble eeres / of parfyte audyence
To my request / she dyde than enclyne
Sayenge she wolde / in her goodly scyence
In short space / me so well indoctryne
That my dull mynde / it shoulde enlumyne
With golden beames / for euer to oppresse
My rude langage / and all my symplenesse
I thanked her / of her grete gentylnes
And axed her / after this questyon
Madame I sayde / I welde knowe doubtles
What rethoryke is / without abusyon
Rethoryke she sayde / was founde by reason
Man for to gouerne / well and prudently
His wordes to ordre / his speche to puryfy
Fyue partes hath rethoryke / for to werke trewe
Without whiche fyue / there can be no sentence
For these fyue / do well euermore renue
The mater parfyte / with good intellygence
Who that wyll se them / with all his dylygence
Here folowenge / I shall them specyfy
Accordynge well / all vnto myne ordynary

Of the fyrste called inuencyon. And a commendacyon of poetes. Ca. viii.

The fyrste of them / is called inuencyon
Whiche fourdeth / of the most noble werke
Of .v. inwarde wyttes / with hole affeccyon
As wryteth ryght many a noble clerke
With mysty colour / of cloudes derke
How comyn wytte / dooth full well electe
What it sholde take / and what it shall abiecte
And secondly / by ymagynacyon
To drawe a mater / full facundyous
Full meruaylous / is the operacyon
To make of nought / reason sentencyous
Clokynge a trouthe / with colour tenebrous
For often vnder a fayre fayned fable
A trouthe appereth gretely profytable
It was the guyse in olde antyquyte
Of famous poetes / ryght ymagynatyfe
Fables to fayne / by good auctoryte
They were so wyse / and so inuentyfe
Theyr obscure reason / fayre and sugratyfe
Pronounced trouthe / vnder cloudy fygures
By the inuencyon / of theyr fatall scryptures
And thyrdly they hadde suche a fantasy
In this hygh arte / to be intellygyble
Theyr same encreasynge / euermore truely
To slouth euer / they were inuyncyble
To theyr wofull hertes / was nought impossyble
With brennynge loue / of insacyate fyre
Newe thynges to fynde / they set theyr desyre
For though a man / of his propre mynde
Be inuentyf / and he do not apply
His fantasye / vnto the besy kynde
Of his connynge / it maye not ratyfye
For fantasye / must nedes exemplyfy
His newe inuencyon / and cause hym to entende
With hole desyre / to brynge it to an ende
And fourtely / by good estymacyon
He must nombre all the hole cyrcumstaunce
Of this mater / with breuyacyon
That he walke not / by longe contynuaunce
The perambulat waye / full of all varyaunce
By estymacyon / is made annuncyate
Whether the mater be longe or breuyate
For to inuencyon / it is equypolent
The mater founde / ryght well to comprehende
In suche a space / as it is conuenyent
For properly / it doth euer pretende
Of all the purpose / the length to extende
So estymacyon / maye ryght well conclude
The parfyte nombre / of euery symylytude
And yet than / the retentyfe memory
Whiche is the fyfte / must euer agregate
All maters thought / to retayne inwardly
Tyll reason therof / hath made a brobate
And by scrypture / wyll make demonstrate
Outwardly / accordynge to the thought
To proue a reason / vpon a thynge of nought
Thus whan the fourth / hath wrought full wonderly
Than must the mynde / werke vpon them all
By cours ingenyous / to rynne dyrectly
After theyr thoughtes / than in generall
The mynde must cause them to be memoryall
As after this / shall appere more openly
All hole exprest / by dame phylosophy
O thrust of vertue / and of ryall pleasure
Of famous poetes / many yeres ago
O insacyate couetyse / of the specyall treasure
Of newe inuencyon / to ydlenes the fo
We maye you laude / and often prayse also
And specyally / for worthy causes thre
Whiche to this daye / we maye bothe here and se
As to the fyrste / your hole desyre was set
Fables to fayne / to eschewe ydlenes
With amplyacyon / more connynge to get
By the labour / of inuentyfe besynes
Touchynge the trouthe / by couert lykenes
To dysnull vyce / and the vycyous to blame
Your dedes therto / exemplyfyde the same
And secondly / ryght well you dyde endyte
Of the worthy actes / of many a conqueroure
Throughe whiche laboure / that you dyde so wryte
Vnto this daye reygneth the honoure
Of euery noble / and myghty warryoure
And for youe labour / and your besy payne
Youre fame yet lyueth / and shall endure certayne
And eke to prayse you / we are gretely bounde
Bycause our connynge / frome you so procedeth
For you therof / were fyrst orygynall grounde
And vpon youre scryptue / our scyence ensueth
Your splendent verses / our lyghtnes renueth
And so we ought to laude and magnyfy
Your excellent sprynges / of famous poetry

A replycacyon agaynst ignoraunt persones. Ca. ix.792 But rude people / opprest with blyndnes
Agaynst your fables / wyll often solysgyse
Suche is theyr mynde / suche is theyr folysshnes
For they byleue / in no maner of wyse
That vnder a colour / a trouthe may aryse
For folysshe people / blynded in a mater
Wyll often erre / whan they of it do clatter
O all ye cursed / and suche euyll fooles
Whose syghttes be blynded / ouer all with foly
Open your eyes / in the pleasaunt scoles
Of parfyte connynge / or that you reply
Agaynst fables / for to be contrary
For lacke of connyge / no meruayle thoughe you erre
In suche scyence / whiche is frome you so ferre
For now the people / whiche is dull and rude
Yf that they do rede / a fatall scrypture
And can not moralyse / the semelytude
Whiche to theyr wyttes / is so harde and obscure
Than wyll they saye / that it is sene in vre
That nought do poetes / but depaynt and lye
Deceyuynge them / by tongues of flatery
But what for that / they can not defame
The poetes actes / whiche are in effecte
Vnto themselfe / remayneth the shame
To dysprayse that / whiche they can not correcte
And yf that they / hadde in it inspecte
That they wolde it prayse / and often eleuate
For it shoulde be / to them so delycate.

poem by Stephen Hawes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pastime of Pleasure

The good Dame Mercy with Dame Charyte
My body buryed full ryght humbly
In a fayre temple of olde antyquyte,
Where was for me a dyryge devoutely
And with many a masse full ryght solempnely;
And over my grave, to be in memory,
Remembraunce made this lytell epytaphy:

"O erthe, on erthe it is a wonders cace
That thou arte blynde and wyll not the knowe.
Though upon erthe thou hast thy dwellynge-place,
Yet erthe at laste must nedes the overthrowe.
Thou thynkest the to be none erthe I trowe;
For yf thou dydest, thou woldest than apply
To forsake pleasure and to lerne to dy.

"O erthe, of erthe why arte thou so proude?
Now what thou arte call to remembraunce.
Open thyn eres unto my songe aloude.
Is not thy beauté, strength, and puyssaunce,
Though it be cladde with cloth{.e}s of plesaunce,
Very erthe and also worm{.e}s fode,
Whan erthe to erthe shall so tourne the blode?
...
"The vyle carkes set upon a fyre
Dooth often haunte the synne of lechery,
Fulfyllynge the foule carnall desyre.
Thus erthe with erthe is corrupte mervaylously;
And erthe on erthe wyll nothynge puryfye
Tyll erthe to erthe be nere subverted.
For erthe with erthe is so perverted.

"O mortall folke! you may beholde and se
Howe I lye here, sometyme a myghty knyght;
The end of joye and all prosperyte
Is dethe at last, through his course and myght;
After the day there cometh the derke night;
For though the day be never so longe,
At last the belles ryngeth to evensonge.

"And my selfe called La Graunde Amoure,
Sekynge adventure in the worldly glory,
For to attayne the ryches and honoure,
Did thynke full lytell that I sholde here ly,
Tyll dethe dyde marke me full ryght pryvely.
Lo what I am! and whereto you must!
Lyke as I am so shall you be all dust.

"Than in your mynde inwardely dyspyse
The bryttle worlde, so full of doublenes,
With the vyle flesshe, and ryght sone aryse
Out of your slepe of mortall hevynes;
Subdue the devill with grace and mekenes,
That after your lyfe frayle and transytory,
You may then lyve in joye perdurably."

poem by Stephen Hawes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Cōforte of Louers

The prohemye.

The gentyll poetes/vnder cloudy fygures
Do touche a trouth/and clokeit subtylly
Harde is to cōstrue poetycall scryptures
They are so fayned/& made sētēcyously
For som do wryte of loue by fables pryuely
Some do endyte/vpon good moralyte
Of chyualrous actes/done in antyquyte
Whose fables and storyes ben pastymes pleasaunt
To lordes and ladyes/as is theyr lykynge
Dyuers to moralyte/ben oft attendaunt
And many delyte to rede of louynge
Youth loueth aduenture/pleasure and lykynge
Aege foloweth polycy/sadnesse and prudence
Thus they do dyffre/eche in experyence
I lytell or nought/experte in this scyence
Compyle suche bokes/to deuoyde ydlenes
Besechynge the reders/with all my delygence
Where as I offende/for to correct doubtles
Submyttynge me to theyr grete gentylnes
As none hystoryagraffe/nor poete laureate
But gladly wolde folowe/the makynge of Lydgate
Fyrst noble Gower/moralytees dyde endyte
And after hym Cauncers/grete bokes delectable
Lyke a good phylozophre/meruaylously dyde wryte
After them Lydgate/the monke commendable
Made many wonderfull bokes moche profytable
But syth the are deed/& theyr bodyes layde in chest
I pray to god to gyue theyr soules good rest

Finis prohemii.

Whan fayre was phebus/w&supere; his bemes bryght
Amyddes of gemyny/aloft the fyrmament
Without blacke cloudes/castynge his pured lyght
With sorowe opprest/and grete incombrement
Remembrynge well/my lady excellent
Saynge o fortune helpe me to preuayle
For thou knowest all my paynfull trauayle
I went than musynge/in a medowe grene
Myselfe alone/amonge the floures in dede
With god aboue/the futertens is sene
To god I sayd/thou mayst my mater spede
And me rewarde/accordynge to my mede
Thou knowest the trouthe/I am to the true
Whan that thou lyst/thou mayst them all subdue
Who dyde preserue the yonge edyppus
Whiche sholde haue be slayne by calculacyon
To deuoyde grete thynges/the story sheweth vs
That were to come/by true reuelacyon
Takynge after theyr hole operacyon
In this edyppus/accordynge to affecte
Theyr cursed calkynge/holly to abiecte
Who dyde preserue/Ionas and moyses
Who dyde preserue yet many other mo
As the byble maketh mencyon doubles
Who dyde kepe Charles frome his euyll fo
Who was he/that euer coude do so
But god alone/than in lykewyse maye he
Kepe me full sure/frome all inyquyte
Thus as I called to my remembraunce
Suche trewe examples/I tenderly dyde wepe
Remembrynge well/goddes hyghe ordynaūce
Syghynge full oft/with inwarde teres depe
Tyll at the last/I fell in to a slepe
And in this slepe/me thought I dyde repayre
My selfe alone/in to a garden fayre
This goodly gardyn/I dyde well beholde
Where I sawe a place/ryght gaye and gloryous
With golden turrettes/paynted many afolde
Lyke a place of pleasure moste solacyous
The wyndowes glased/with crystall precyous
The golden fanes/with wynde and melody
By dulcet sounde/and meruaylous armony
The knottes flagraunt/with aromatyke odoure
With goodly sprynges/of meruaylous mountaynes
I dyde than tast/the redolent lycoure
Moost clere and swete/of the goodly vaynes
Whiche dyde me ease/somwhat of my paynes
Tyll to me came/a lady of goodly age
Apareyled sadly/and demure of vysage
To me she sayd/me thynke ye are not well
Ye haue caught colde/and do lyue in care
Tell me your mynde/now shortly euerydeie
To layne the trouthe/I charge you to beware
I shall for you/a remedy prepare
Dyspeyre you not/for no thynge that is past
Tell me your mynde/and be nought agast
Al as madame/vnto her than I sayd
It is no wonder/of myne inwarde payne
Yf that my herte be meruayllously dysmayde
My trouthe and loue/therof is cause certayne
Dyuers yeres ago/I dyde in mynde retayne
A lady yonge/a lady fayre of syght
Good//wyse/and goodly/an holsome sterre of lyght
I durst not speke vnto her of my loue
Yet vnder coloure I dyuers bokes dyde make
Full pryuely/to come to my aboue
Thus many nyghtes/I watched for her sake
To her and to hers/my trouthe well to take
Without ony spotte/of ony maner yll
God knoweth all myn herte/my mynde & my wyll
The hygh dame nature/by her grete myght & power
Man/beest/and foule/in euery degre
Fro whens they came at euery maner houre
Dooth trye the trouthe/without duplycyte
For euery thynge must shewe the properte
Gentyll vngentyll/dame nature so well tryet
That all persones it openly espyeth
The lorde and knyght/delyteth for to here
Cronycles and storyes/of noble chyualry
The gentyll man gentylnes/for his passe tyme clere
The man of lawe/to here lawe truely
The yeman delyteth to talke of yomanry
The ploman his londe for to ere and sowe
Thus nature werketh/in hye degre and lowe
For yf there were one of the gentyll blode
Conuayde to yomanry for nourysshement
Dyscrecyon comen he sholde chaunge his mode
Though he knewe not/his parentes verament
Yet nature wolde werke/so by entendyment
That he sholde folowe/the condycyons doubtles
Of his true blode/by outwarde gentylnes
In all this worlde/ben but thynges twayne
As loue and hate/the trouth for to tell
And yf I sholde hate my lady certayne
Than worthy I were/to dye of deth cruell
Seynge all ladyes/that she doth excell
In beaute/grace/prudence and mekenes
What man on lyue/can more in one expres
Yf she with me sholde take dyspleasure
Whiche loueth her by honoures desyre
What sholde she do/with suceh a creature
That hateth her/by inwarde fraude and yre
I yet a louer/do not so atyre
My fayth and hope/I put in her grace
Releace to graunt me/by good tyme and space
Thretened with sorowe/of may paynes grete
Thre yeres ago my ryght hande I dyde bynde
Fro my browes for fere/y&supere; dropes doune dyde sweet
God knoweth all it was nothynge my mynde
Unto no persone/I durst my her to vntwynde
Yet the trouthe knowynge/the good gretest P
Maye me releace/of all my/p/p/p/thre
Now ryght fayre lady/so sadde and demure
My mynde ye knowe/in euery maner thynge
I trust for trouthe/ye wyll not me dyscure
Sythes I haue shewed you without lesynge
At your request/the cause of my mournynge
Whiche abyde in sorowe/in my remembraunce
Without good conforte/saufe of esperaunce
Fayre sone sayd she/sythens I knowe your thought
Your worde and dede/and here to be one
Dyspayre you not/for it auayleth nought
Ioye cometh after/whan the payne is gone
Conforte yourselfe/and muse not so alone
Doubt ye no thynge/but god wyll so agre
That at the last/ye shall your lady se
Be alwaye meke/let wysdome be your guyde
Aduenture for honoure/and put your selfe in preace
Clymbe not to fast/lest sodenly ye slyde
Lets god werke styll/he wyll your mynde encrece
Begynne no warre/be gladde to kepe the peace
Prepence no thynge/agaynst the honoure
Of ony lady/by fraudolent fauoure
Alas madame/vnto her than sayd I
Aboue .xx. woulues/dyde me touse and rent
Not longe agone/delynge moost shamefully
That by theyr tuggynge/my lyfe was nere spent
I dyde perceyue/somwhat of theyr entente
As the trouthe is knowen/vnto god aboue
My ladyes fader they dyde lytell loue
Seynge theyr falshode/and theyr subtylte
For fere of deth/where as I loued best
I dyde dysprayse/to knowe theyr cruelte
Somwhat to wysdome/accordynge to behest
Though that my body had but lytell rest
My herte was trewe vnto my ladyes blood
For all theyr dedes I thought no thynge but good
Some had wende the hous for to swepe
Nought was theyr besom/I holde it set on fyre
The inwarde wo in to my herte dyde crepe
To god aboue/I made my hole desyre
Saynge o good lorde of heuenly empyre
Let the mouut with all braunches swete
Entyerly growe/god gyue vs grace to mete
Soma had wened for to haue made an ende
Of my bokes/before he hadde begynnynge
But all vayne they dyde so comprehende
Whan they of them lacke vnderstandynge
Uaynfull was & is theyr mysse contryuynge
Who lyst the trouthe of them for to enfuse
For the reed and whyte they wryte full true
Well sayd this lady I haue perceueraunce
Of our bokes/whiche that ye endyte
So as ye saye is all the cyrcumstaunce
Unto the hyghe pleasure of the reed and the whyte
Which hath your trouth/and wyll you acquyte
Doubte ye no thynge/but at the last ye maye
Of your true mynde yet fynde a Ioyfull daye
Forsothe I sayd/dysdayne and straungenesse
I fere them sore/and fals reporte
I wolde they were/in warde all doutles
Lyke as I was/without conforte
Than wolde I thynke/my lady wolde resorte
Unto dame mercy/my payne to consyder
God knoweth all/I wolde we were togyder
Though in meane season/of grene grasse I fede
It wolde not greue me/yf she knewe my heuynesse
My trauayle is grete/I praye god be my spede
To resyste the myght/of myn enmyes subtylnesse
Whiche awayte to take/me by theyr doublenesse
My wysdome is lytel/yet god may graunt me grace
Them to defende/in euery maner of cace
Lerne this she sayd/yf that you can by wytte
Of foes make frendes/they wyll be to you sure
Yf that theyr frendshyp/be vnto yon knytte
It is oft stedfast/and wyll longe endure
Yf alwaye malyce/they wyll put in vre
No doubte it is/than god so hyght and stronge
Ful meruaylously/wyl soone reuenge theyr wronge
And now she sayd come on your waye with me
Unto a goodly toure whiche is solacyous
Beholde it yonder/full of felycyte
Quadrant it was/me thought full meruaylous
With golden turrettes/gaye and gloryous
Gargayled with greyhoūdes/and with many lyons
Made of fyne golde/with dyuers sondry dragons
The wyndowes byrall/without resplendysshaunt
The fayre yuery/coloured with grene
And all aboute there was dependaunt
Grete gargeyles of golde/full meruaylously besene
Neuer was made/a fayrer place I wene
The ryght excellent lady toke her intresse
Ryght so dyde I/by meruaylous swetnesse
Whan we came in/I dyde aboute beholde
The goodly temple/with pynacles vp sette
Wherin were ymages/of kynges all of golde
With dyuers scryptures/without ony lette
Aloft the roofe/were emeraudes full grette
Set in fyne golde/with amyable rudyes
Endented with dyamondes/and mayn turkyes
The wyndowes hystoried/with many noble kynges
The pyllers Iasper/dyuersed with asure
By pendaunt penacles/of many noble rynges
The pauement calcedony/beynge fayre and sure
The aras golde/with the story pure
Of the syche of thebes/with actes auenturous
Of ryght noble knyghees/hardy and chyualrous
Than sayd this lady/I must now go hence
Passe ye tyme here/accordynge to your lykynge
It maye fortune/your lady of excellence
Wyll passe her tyme here/soone by walkynge
Than maye she se/your dolefull mournynge
And fare ye well/I maye no lenger tary
Marke well my lesson/and from it do not vary
Whan she was gone/the temple all alonge
I went my selfe/with syghtes grete and feruent
Alas I sayd/with inwarde paynes stronge
My herte doth blede/now all to torne and rent
For lacke of conforte/my herte is almost spent
O meruelo&us; fortune/whiche hast ī loue me brought
Where is my conforte/that I so longe haue sought
O wonderfull loue/whiche fell vnto my lotte
O loue ryght clene/without ony thought vntrue
Syth thy fyrst louynge/not blemyssed with spotte
But euermore/the falseshede to extue
O dolorous payne/whiche doste renue
O pyteous herte/where is the helthe and boote
Of thy lady/that perst the at the roote
What thynge is loue/that causeth suche turment
From whens cometh it/me thynke it is good questyō
Yf it be nature/from nature it is sent
Loue maye come of kynde by true affeccyon
Loue may appetyte/by natururall eleccyon
Than must loue nedes be/I perceyue it in mynde
A thynge fyrst gyuen/by the god of kynde
Alas o nature/why mayst not thou truely
Cause my lady loue/as thou hast me constrayned
Hath she power to domyne the vtterly
Why mayst not thou/cause her be somwhat payned
With natures moeuynge/for loue is not fayned
Alas for sorowe/why madest thou her so fayre
Without to loue/that she lyst soone repayre
Two thynges me conforte/euer in pryncypall
The fyrst be bokes/made in antyquyte
By Gower and Chauncers/poetes rethorycall
And Lydgate eke/by good auctoryte
Makynge mencyon/of the felycyte
Of my lady and me/by dame fortunes chaunce
To mete togyders/by wonderull ordynaunce
The seconde is/where fortune dooth me brynge
In many placys/I se by prophecy
As in the storyes/of the olde buyldynge
Letters for my lady/depeynted wonderly
And letters for me/besyde her meruayllously
Agreynge well/vnto my bokes all
In dyuers placys/I se it in generall
O loue moost dere/o loue nere to my harte
O gentyll floure/I wolde you knewe my wo
How that your beaute/perst me with the darte
With your vertue/and your mekenes also
Sythens ye so dyde/it is ryght longe ago
My herte doth se you/it is for you bebledde
Myne eyen with teeres/ben often made full redde
Where are ye now/the floure of Ioye and grace
Whiche myght me conforte/in this inwarde sorowe
Myne excellent lady/it is a ryght pyteous case
Good be my guyde/aud saynt George vnto borowe
O clere Aurora/the sterre of the morowe
Whiche many yeres/with thy bemes mery
Hath me awaked/to se thyne emyspery
Thus as I mourned/I sawe than appere
Thre goodly myrours dependaunt on the wall
Set in fyne golde bordred with stones clere
The glasses pure/they were of crystall
Made longe ago to be memoryall
And vnder the fyrst glasse ryght fayre wryten was
Beholde thy selfe/and thy fautes or thou passe
By a sylken threde/small as ony heere
Ouer I sawe hange/a swerde full ponderous
Without a scauberde/full sharpe for to fere
The poynt dounwarde/ryght harde and asperous
All this I sawe/with hert full dolorous
Yet at auenture/to se the mystery
In the myroure/I loked than full sodenly
In this glasse I sawe/how I had ledde my lyfe
Sythens the tyme of my dyscrecyon
As vnto wyldnesse/alwaye affyrmatyfe
Folowynge the pleasure/of wylfull amonycyon
Not vnto vertue, hauynge intencyon
Ihesu sayd I/thou hast me well preserued
From this swerdes fall/whiche I haue oft deserued
O ye estates/aloft on fortunes whele
Remembre this swerde/whiche ouer you dependeth
Beware the fall/before that ye it fele
Se your one euyll/se what vengeaunce ensueth
Correcte none other/whan that your fautes renueth
Calke not not goddes power/bryef not y&supere; tens future
Beholde this glasse/se how he may endure
Many one wanteth the nature sens to brefe
By calculacyon goddes power to withstande
Bathynge theyr swerdes/in blode by myschefe
Tyll at the last as I do vnderstande
This swerde doth fal by the myght of goddes hande
Upon them all/whiche wolde his power abate
Than they repent but than it is to late
This goodly myrour/I ryght well behelde
Remembrynge well/my dedes done in tymes past
I toke forwytte/than for to be my shelde
By grace well armed/not to be agast
Thus as I stode/I dyde se at the last
The seconde myrour/as bryght as phebus
Set rounde about/with stones precyous
Ouer whiche dyde hāge/a floure of golde ryght fyne
Wherin was set/an emeraude full bryght
Ryght large and grete/whiche wōderfull dyde shyne
That me thought it was/grete conforte to my syght
Bordred dyamondes/castybarge a meruaylous; lyght
This floure dyde hange/by a ryght subtyll gynne
With a chayne of yron/and many a pryue pynne
Besyde whiche there was/a table of golde
With a goodly scrypture/enameled of grene
The sentence wherof/I dyde well beholde
The whiche sayd thus/it is openly sene
That many a one/full pryuely dooth wene
To blynde an other/by crafte and subtylnes
That ofte blyndeth hym/for all his doublenes
In this myrour whiche is here besyde
Thou shalt well lerne/thy selfe for to knowe
Passe forth no ferder/but loke and abyde
Se what shall come/lest that thou ouer throwe
A sodayne rysynge dooth oft fall alowe
Without the grounde/beryghe sure and perfyte
Beholde well this glasse/& take thy respyte
Whan thou hast so done/to this floure resorte
Laboure to gete it/from this harde yren chayne
Unto the gynnes/vnto thy grete conforte
Yf that thou canst/and take it for thy payne
To be thy helpe/in thy Journaye certayne
Lo here the vertues vnder wryten be
Of this ryall floure in euery degre
This ryche emeraude/who so dooth it bere
From his fyrst werynge/his syght shal not mynysshe
Payne of the heed he nedeth not to fere
By dynt of swerde/he shall neuer perysshe
Ne no thynge begyn/but he shall well fynysshe
Yf it be ryghtfull aftyr a true entent
Without resystence of grete impedyment
Of all nygromancy/and fals enchauntement
Agaynst hym wrought/he shall knowe the effecte
They can not blynde hym by cursed sentement
But he theyr werkes may ryght soone abiecte
No maner poyson he nedeth to susspecte
Neyther in mete not yet in ale ne wyne
Yf it beset well besyde a serpentyne
Yf he vntrue be vnto his gentyll lady
It wyll breke asondre/or crase than doubtlesse
It kepeth close/neuet the auoutry
This gentyll emeraude/this stone of rychesse
Hath many mo vertues/whiche I do not expresse
As saynt Iohan euangelyst doeth shewe openly
Who of his makynge lyst se the lapydary
Whan I had aduerted/in my remembraunce
All the maters/vnto the glasse I wente
Beholdynge it/by a longe cyrcumstaunce
Where as I dyde perceyue well verament
How preuy malyce/his messengers had sent
With subtyll engynes/to lye in a wayte
Yf that they coude take me with a bayte
I sawe there trappes/I sawe theyr gynnes all
I thanked god than/the swete holy goost
Whiche brought me hyder so well in specyall
Without whiche myrour/I had ben but loost
In god aboue/the lorde of myghtes moost
I put my trust/for to withstande theyr euyll
Whiche dayly wrought/by the myght of the deuyll
I sawe theyr maysters blacke and tydyous
Made by the craft of many a nacyon
For to dystroye me/with strokes peryllous
To lette my Iournaye/as I make relacyon
Peryllous was the waye/and the cytuacyon
Full gladde was I of the vertu of this glasse
Whiche shewed me/what daungers I sholde passe
O all ye estates/of the hygh renowne
Beware these gynnes/beware theyr subtylte
The deuyll is grete/and redy to cast downe
By calculacyon/of the cursed cruelte
Of the subtyll beestes/full of inyquyte
In the olde tyme what snares were there sette
By fals calkynge/to dystroye lordes grete
Than after this to the yron gynne
I wente anone my wyte for to proue
By lytell and lytell/to vndo euery pynne
Thus in and out/I dyde the chayne ofte moue
Yet coude I not come/vnto myne aboue
Tyll at the last/I dyde the crafte espy
Undoynge the pynnes/& chayne full meruaylously
Full gladde was I than/whan I had this floure
I kyst it oft/I behelde the coloure grene
It swaged ryght well/myn inwarde doloure
Myn eyes conforted/with the bryghtnes I wene
This ryall floure/this emeraude so shene
Whan I had goten it by my prudence
Ryght gladde I was/of fortunes premynence
O fortune sayd I/thou arte ryght fauorable
For many a one/hath ben by symylytude
To wynne this floure/full gretely tendable
But they the subtylnes/myght nothynge exclude
Sythen by wysdome/I dyde this fraude conclude
This floure/I sette nere my harte
For perfyte loue/of my fayre ladyes darte
So this accomplysshed/than incontynent
To the thyrde myrour I went dyrectly
Beholdynge aboute by good auysement
Seynge an ymage madefull wonderly
Of the holy goost with flambes ardauntly
Under whiche I sawe with letters fayre and pure
In golde well grauen this meruaylous scrypture
Frome the fader and the sone my power procedynge
And of my selfe I god do ryght ofte inspyre
Dyuers creatures with spyrytuall knowynge
Inuysyble by dyuyne flambynge fyre
The eyes I entre not it is not my desyre
I am not coloured of the terrestryall grounde
Nor entre the eres for I do not sounde
Nor by the nose for I am not myxte
With ony maner of the ayry influence
Nor by the mouthe for I am not fyxte
For to be swalowed by erthly experyence
Nor yet by felynge or touchynge exystence
My power dyuyne can not be palpable
For I myselfe am no thynge manyable
Yet vysyble I may be by good apparaunce
As in the lykenesse of a doue vnto chryste Ihesu
At his baptysme I dyde it with good countenaunce
To shewe our godhed to be hygh and true
And at his transfyguracyon our power to ensue
In a fayre cloude with clere rayes radyaunt
Ouer hym that I was well apparaunt
Also truely yet at the feest of pentycoste
To the sones moder and the apostelles all
In tonges of fyre as god of myghtes moost
I dyde appere shewynge my power spyrytuall
Enflambynge theyr hertes by vertues supernall
Whiche after that by languages well
In euery regyon coude pronounce the gospell
And where I lyst by power dyuyne
I do enspyre oft causynge grete prophecy
Whiche is mysconstrued whan some do enclyne
Thynkynge by theyr wytte to perceyue it lyghtly
Or elles calke with deuylles the trouth to sertyfy
Whiche contrary be to all true saynge
For deuylles be subtyll and alwaye lyenge
Whan I had aduerted with my dylygence
All the scrypture I sawe me besyde
Hāge a fayre swerde & shelde of meruailous excellēce
Whiche to beholde I dyde than abyde
To blase the armes I dyde well prouyde
The felde was syluer/and in it a medowe grene
With an olyue trefull meruaylously besene
Two lyons of asure vpon euery syde
Couchande were truely besyde this olyue tree
A hande of stele wherin was wryten pryde
Dyde holde this ryall swerde in certaynte
A scrypture there was whiche sayd by subtylte
Of a grete lady hondred yeres ago
In the hande of stele this swerde was closed so
No maner persone/may withstande this swerde
But one persone/chosen by god in dede
Of this ladyes kynred/not to be aferde
To touche this hande/his mater for to spede
And to vndo it/and take it for his mede
But yf that he/be not of the lygnage
The hande wyll sle hym/after olde vsage
This ryall swerde/that called is preprudence
Who can it gette/it hath these vertues thre
Fyrst to wynne ryght/without longe resystence
Secondly encreaseth/all trouth and amyte
Thyrdly of the berer through duplycyte
Be pryuely fals/to the ordre of chyualry
The swerdes crosse wyll crase/and shewe it openly
This shelde also/who so dooth it bere
Whiche of olde tyme/was called perceueraunce
Hath thre vertues/fyrst he nedeth not fere
Ony grete blodeshede/by wronge incombraunce
Secondly/it wolde make good apparaunce
By hete vnto hym/to gyue hym warnynge
To be redy/agayst his enmyes comynge
The thyrde is this/yf this calenge be ryghtfull
Neuer no swerde/shall through his harneys perce
Nor make hym blody/with woundes rufull
For he there steength/may ryghtfully reuerce
Yet moreouer/as I do well reherce
This ryall shelde/in what place it be borne
Shall soone be wonne/and shall not be forlorne
These thynges sene/to the thyrde myroure clere
I went anone/and in it loked ryght ofte
Where in my fyght/dyde wonderly appere
The fyrmament/with the sonne all alofte
The wynde not grete/but blowynge fayre and softe
And besyde the sonne/I sawe a meruaylous sterre
With beames twayne/the whiche were cast aferre
The one turnynge towarde the sterre agayne
The other stretched ryght towarde Phebus
To beholde this sterre/I was somwhat fayne
But than I mused with herte full dolorous
Whyder it sygnyfyed thynges good or peryllous
Thus longe I studyed/tyll at the last I thought
What it sholde meane/as in my herte I sought
This sterre it sygnyfyeth the resynge of a knyght
The bowynge beame agayne so tournynge
Betokened rattonnes of them whiche by myght
Wolde hym resyst by theyr wronge resystynge
The beame towarde Phebus clerely shynynge
Betokened many meruaylous fyres grete
On them to lyght that wolde his purpose lete
In the fyre clerest of euery element
God hath appered vnto many a one
Inspyrynge them/with grete wytte refulgent
Who lyst to rede many dayes agone
Many one wryteth trouthe/yet cōforte hath he none
Wherfore I fere me/lyke a swarme of bees
Wylde fyre wyll lyght amonge a thousande pees

Sepe expugnauerunt me a inuentute mea:etenim non potuerunt michi.
As the cantycles maketh good mencyon
They haue oft expugned me/syth my yonge age
Yet coude they haue me/in theyr domynyon
Though many a one/vnhappely do rage
They shall haue sorowe that shytte me in a cage
In a grte dyspyte of the holy goost
He maye them brenne/theyr calkynge is but loost

Supra dorsum meū fabricauerūt peccatores: prolongauersit iniquitatē suā.
Upon my backe synners hath fabrysed
They haue prolonged theyr grete inyquyte
From daye to daye it is not mynysshed
Wherfore for vengeaunce by grete extremyte
It cryeth aboue/now vnto the deyte
Whiche that his mynysters haue suffred so longe
To lyue in synne and euyll wayes wronge
Whan I had perceyued euery maner thynge
Of this ryall myrour/accordynge to effecte
Remembrynge the verses/of the olde saynge
Whiche in my mynde I dyde well coniecte
Than to the swerde/I thought to haue respecte
Ryght so I went/than at all auenture
Unto the hande/that helde the swerde so sure
I felte the hande/of the stell so fyne
Me thought it quaked/the fyngers gan to stretche
I thought by that/I came than of the lyne
Of the grete lady/that fyrst the swerde dyde fetche
The swerdes pomell/I began to ketche
The hande swerued/but yet neuer the lesse
I helde them bothe/by excellent prowes
And at the last/I felte the hande departe
The swerde I toke/with all my besynesse
So I subdued/all the magykes arte
And founde the scauberde/of meruaylous rychesse
After that I toke the shelde doune doubtlesse
Kyssynge the swerde/and the shelde ofte I wys
Thankynge god/the whiche was cause of this
Gladde was I than/of my ryall floure
Of my swerde and shelde/I reioyced also
It pacyfyed well/myn inwarde doloure
But fro my ladyes beaute/my mynde myght not go
I loued her surely/for I loued no mo
Thus my fayre floure/and my swerde and shelde
With eyen ryght meke/full often I behelde
Than sayd I (well) this is an happy chaunce
I trust now shortly/my lady for to se
O fortune sayd I/whiche brought me on the daūce
Fyrst to beholde her ryght excellent beaute
And so by chaunce/hast hyder conueyde me
Getynge me also/my floure my shelde and swerde
I nought mystrust the/why sholde I be aferde
O ryght fayre lady/as the bryght daye sterre
Shyneth before the rysynge of the sonne
Castynge her beames/all aboute aferre
Exylynge grete wyndes/and the mystes donne
So ryght fayre lady/where as thou doost wonne
Thy beautefull bryghtnes/thy vertue and thy grace
Dooth clere Illumyne/all thy boure and place
The gentyll heren is plonged in dystresse
Dooth walowe and tomble in somers nyght
Replete with wo/and mortall heuynesse
Tyll that aurora/with her beames bryght
Aboute the fyrmament/castynge her pured lyght
Ageynst the rysynge/of refulgent tytan
Whan that declyneth/the fayre dame dyan
Than dooth the louer/out of this bedde aryse
With wofull mynde/beholdynge than the ayre
Alas he sayth/what nedeth to deuyse
Ony suche pastyme/here for to repayre
Where is my conforte/where is my lady fayre
Where is my Ioye/where is now all my boote
Where is she nowe/that persed my herte rote
This maye I saye/vnto my owne dere loue
My goodly lady/fayrest and moost swete
In all my bokes/fayre fortune doth moue
For a place of grace/where that we sholde mete
Also my bokes full pryuely you grete
The effectes therof/dooth well dayly ensue
By meruelous thynges/to proue them to be true
The more my payne/the more my loue encreaseth
The more my Ieopardy/the truer is my harte
The more I suffre/the lesse the fyre releasheth
The more I complayne the more is my smarte
The more I se her/the sharper is the darte
The more I wryte/the more my teeres dystyll
The more I loue/the hotter is my wyll
O moost fayre lady/yonge/good/and vertuous
I knewe full well/neuer your countenaunce
Shewed me ony token/to make me amerous
But what for that/your prudent gouernaunce
Hath enrached my herte/for to gyue attendaunce
Your excellent beaute/you coude no thynge lette
To cause my herte vpon you to be sette
My ryght fayre lady/yf at the chesse I drawe
My selfe I knowe not/as a cheke frome a mate
But god aboue the whiche sholde haue in awe
By drede truely euery true estate
He maye take vengeaunce/though he tary late
He knoweth my mynde/he knoweth my remedy
He maye reuenge me/he knoweth my Ieoperdy
O thou fayre fortune/torne not fro me thy face
Remembre my sorowe/for my goodly lady
My tendre herte/she dooth full oft enbrace
And as of that it is no wonder why
For vpon her is all my desteny
Submyttynge me/vnto her gracyous wyll
Me for to saue or sodaynly to spyll
O ryght fayre lady of grene flourynge age
You can not do but as your frendes agre
Your wyte is grete/you mekenes/dooth not swage
Exyle dysdayne/and be ruled by pety
The frenshe man sayth/that shall be shall be
Yf that I dye louer was neuer none
Deyed in this worlde/for a fayrer persone
Your beaute causeth all my amyte
Why sholde your beaute/to my dethe condyscende
Your vertue and mekenes/dyde so arest me
Why sholde ye than to dame dysdayne intende
Your prudence your goodnes/dooth mercy extende
Why sholde ye than enclyne to cruelte
Your grace I trust wyll non extremyte
A dere herte I maye complayne ryght longe
You here me not/nor se me not arayed
Nor causes my paynes for to be stronge
It was myn eyes/that made me fyrst dysmayde
With stroke of loue/that coude not me delaye
My ryght fayre lady/my herte is colde and faynt
Wolde now to god/that you knewe my complaynte
Thus as I mourned I herde a lady speke
I loked asyde I sawe my lady gracyous
My herte than fared/as it sholde breke
For perfyte Ioye whiche was solacyous
Before her grace/ryght swete and precyous
I kneled doune/saynge with all mekenesse
Please it your grace/& excellent noblenes
No dyspleasure to take for my beynge here
For fortune me brought/to this place ryall
Where I haue wonne this floure so vertuous & dere
This swerde and shelde/also not peregall
Towadre hym aduenture to be tryumphall
And now by fortunes desteny and fate
Do here my duety vnto your hygh estate
Ihesu sayd she than/who hadde wende to fynde
Your selfe walkynge/in this place all alone
Full lytell thought I/ye were not in my mynde
What is the cause/that ye make suche mone
I thynke some thynge/be from you past and gone
But I wonder/how that ye dyde attayne
This floure/this swerde/the shelde also certayne
For by a lady in the antyquyte
They were made to a meruaylous entente
That none sholde get them/but by auctoryte
Whiche onely by fortune/sholde hyder be sent
Full many knyghtes by entendement
Hath them aduentred/to haue them in dede
But all was vayne/for they myght neuer spede
Wherfore surely/ye are moche fortunate
Them for to wynne by your aduenture
But it was no thynge to you ordynate
And you dyde well/to put your selfe in vre
To proue the Ieoperdy/whiche hath made you sure
Leue all your mournynge/for there is no wyght
Hath greter cause/for to be gladde and lyght
I behelde well her demure countenaunce
Unto her swete wordes/gyuynge good audyence
And than I marked in my remembraunce
Her pleasaunt apparayle/with all my dylygence
Whiche was full ryche of meruaylous excellence
Fyrst alofte her forheed/full properly was dressed
Under her orellettes/her golden heere well tressed
About her necke whyte as ony lyly
A prety chayne of the fynest golde
Some lynkes with grene enameled truely
And some were blacke/the whiche I dyde beholde
The vaynes blewe/in her fayre necke well tolde
With her swete vysage tydynges to my herte
That sodynly my thoughtes were asterte
Her gowne was golde/of the clothe of tyssewe
With armyns poudred/and wyde sleues pendaunt
Her kyrtell grene of the fyne satyn newe
To bere her longe trayne/was well attendaunt
Gentyll dame dylygence/neuer varyaunt
Than as touchynge her noble stature
I thynke there can be/no goodlyer creature
As of her aege/so tendre and grene
Fayre/gracyous/prudent/and louynge humylyte
Her vertue shyneth/beynge bryght and shene
In her is nether pryde ne sybtylte
Her gentyll herte/enclyneth to bounte
Thus beaute/godlynesse/vertue/grace/and wytte
With bounte and mekenesse/in this lady is knytte

Amour.
Thus whan my eyes hadde beholde her wele
Madame I sayd how may I now be gladde
But sygh and sorowe with herte euery dele
Longe haue I loued/and lytell conforte hadde
Wherfore no wonder though that I be sadde
Your tendre age/full lytell knoweth ywys
To loue vnloued/what wofull payne it is

Pucell.
Thoghe that I be yonge/yet I haue perceueraūce
That ther is no lady/yf that she gentyll be
But ye haue with her ony acquayntaunce
And after cast/to her your amyte
Grounded on honoure/without duplycyte
I wolde thynke in mynde/she wolde condescende
To graunt your fauoure/yf ye none yll intende

Amour.
A fayre lady I haue vnto her spoken
That I loue best/and she dooth not it knowe
Though vnto her/I haue my mynde broken
Her beuaet clere/dooth my herte ouerthrowe
Whan I do se her/my herte booth sobbe I trowe
Wherfore fayre lady/all dysparate of contorte
I speke vnknowen/I must to wo resorte

Pucell.
Me thynke ye speke/now vnder parable
Do ye se her here/whiche is cause of your grefe
Yf ye so dyde/than sholde I be able
As in this cause/te be to your relefe
Ryght lothe I were to se your myschefe
For ye knowe well/what case that I am yn
Peryllous it wolde be/or that ye coude me wyne

Amour.
Madame sayd I/thoughe myn eyes se her not
Made dymme w&supert; wepynde/& with grete wo togyder
Yet dooth myn herte/at this tyme I wote
Her excellent beaute/ryght inwardly concyder
Good fortune I trust/hach now brought me hyder
To se your mekenes/whiche doth her repayre
Whose swete conforte/dooth kepe me fro dyspayre

Pucell.
Of late I sawe aboke of your makynge
Called the pastyme of pleasure/whiche is wōdrous
For I thynge and you had not ben in louynge
Ye coude neuer haue made it so sentencyous
I redde there all your passage daungerous
Wherfore I wene for the fayre ladyes sake
That ye dyd loue/ye dyde that boke so make

Amour.
Forsothe madame/I dyde compyle that boke
As the holy goost/I call vnto wytnes
But ygnorauntly/who so lyst to loke
Many meruelous thynges in it/I do expresse
My lyue and loue/to enserche well doublesse
Many a one doth wryte/I knowe not what in dede
Yet the effecte dooth folowe/the trouthe for to spede

Pucell.
I graunt you well/all that whiche you saye
But tell me who it is/that ye loue so sure
I promyse you that I wyll not bewraye
Her name truely to ony creature
Pyte it is/you sholde suche wo endure
I do perceyue/she is not ryght ferre hence
Whiche that ye loue/wihtouten neclygence

Amour.
Surely madame/syth it pleaseth your hyghnesse
And your honour to speke so nobly
It is your grace/that hath the intresse
In my true herte/with loue so feruently
Ryght longe ago/your beaute sodanly
Entred my mynde/and hath not syth dekayde
With feruent loue/moost wofully arayde

Pucell.
And is it I/that is cause of your loue
Yf it so be I can not helpe your payne
It sholde be harde/to gete to your aboue
Me for to loue/I dyde not you constrayne
Ye knowe what I am/I knowe not you certayne
I am as past your loue to specyfy
Why wyll ye loue where is no remedy

Amour.
A madame you are cause of my languysshe
Ye maye me helpe/yf that it to you please
To haue my purpose/my herte dooth not menysshe
Thoughe I was seke/ye knewe not my dysease
I am not hole/your mercy maye me ease
To proue what I am/the holy goost werke styll
My lyfe and deth/I yelde nowe to your wyll

Pucell.
Fortune me thynke/is meruaylous fauorable
To you by getynge/of this ryall floure
Hauynge this swerde/and shelde so profytable
In mortall daungers/to be your socoure
But as touchynge your loue and fauoure
I can not graunt/neyther fyrst ne last
Ye knowe what I am/ye knowe my loue is past

Amour.
Madame the floure/the swerde and shelde also
Whiche fortune gate me/are not halfe so dere
As your persone the cause of my wo
Whose grace and beaute/shyneth so ryght clere
That in my herte your beaute doth appere
Nothynge is past/but that fortunes pleasure
May call it agayne/in the tyme futrure

Pucell.
I denye not but that your dedes do shewe
By meruaylous prowes/truely your gentylnesse
To make you a carter/there were not afewe
But tho by crafte/whiche thought you to oppresse
To accombre them selfe applye the besynesse
Yet thynke not you/so soone to se a cradle
I graunt you loue/whan ye were golden sadle

Amour.
Madame truely/it is oft dayly sene
Many a one dooth trust/his fortune to take
From an other man/to make hym blynde I wene
Whiche blyndeth hym/and dooth his pompe aslake
Often some hye/do fall alowe and quake
Ryght so maye they/whiche dyde fyrst prepence
My wo and payne for all theyr yll scyence

Pucell.
To loue me so/whiche knoweth my persone
And my frendes eke/me thynke ye are not wyse
As now of me conforte haue ye none
Wherfore this answere/maye to you suffyse
I can not do/but as my frendes deuyse
I can no thynge do/but as they accorde
They haue me promest/to a myghty lorde

Amour.
Madame in this worlde ben but thynges twayne
As loue and hate/ye knowe your selfe the trouthe
Yf I sholde hate you/deth I were worthy playne
Than had you cause/with me to be wrothe
To deserue dyspleasure/my herte wolde be lothe
Wherfore fayre lady/I yelde at this hower
To your mekenes/my herte my loue and power

Pucell.
Thynke you past all chyldy ygnoraunce
That gladde I am/yf prudence be your guyde
Grace cometh often after gouernaunce
Beware of foly/beware of inwarde pryde
Clymbe not to fast/but yet fortune abyde
For your loue I thanke you/yf trouthe haue it fyxte
As with yll thought/neuer for to be myxte

Amour.
Surely my mynde/nor yet my purpose
In ony cause by foly dyde vary
Neuer doynge thynke open ne close
That to your honour sholde be contrary
As yet for grace I am content to tary
For myn enmyes fraude and subtylnes
Whiche pryuely begyne theyr owne vnhapynesse

Pucell.
Now of trouthe/I do vnto you tell
The thynge y&supere; to your enmyes is moost dyspleasure
Is for to gouerne you by wysdome ryght well
That causeth enuy in theyr hertes to endure
But be ye pacyent and ye shall be sure
Suche thynges as they ordayne vnto your gref
Wyll lyght on them fo theyr owne myschefe

Amour.
Surely I thynke/I suffred well the phyppe
The nette also dydde teche me on the waye
But me to bere I trowe they lost a lyppe
For the lyfte hande extendyd my Iournaye
And not to call me for my sporte and playe
Wherfore by foly yf that they do synne
The holy goost maye well the batayle wynne

Pucell.
Yf fortune wolde/for the payne ye haue taken
I wolde graūt you loue/but it may noth&ybar;ge al
My loue is past/it can not be forsaken
Therfore I praye you leue your trauayle
Full lothe I were/your deth to bewayle
There is no nette/nor no tempted snare
But ye them knowe/wherfore ye maye beware

Amour.
The snares and nettes/set in sondrye maner
Doone in tyme past/made many abyrde a dawe
The tempted gynnes/were sette so cyrculer
But euermore it is an olde sayd sawe
Examples past dooth theche one to withdrawe
Frome all suche perylles/wherfore than maye I
By grace of god/beware full parfytly

Pucell.
Ye saye the trouthe/and I do not submytte
My wyll and thought to the lady Uenus
As she is goddesse/and doth true loue knytte
Ryght so to determyne/the mater betwene vs
With assent of fortune/so good gracyous
Besechynge you now for to holde you styll
For these two ladyes/maye your mynde fulfyll

Amour.
My ryght dere lady/I do therto consente
Swete are your wordes they confort my thought
Of Uenus and fortune/I abyde the Iugement
But ryght dere lady/whome I longe haue sought
Forgete me not/remembre loue dere bought
Of my herte/I wolde ye knewe the preuyte
Than as I thynke ye wolde remembre me
That came ladyes [illeg.]
The our talkynge/y&supere; tyme dyde surrendre
Dame/ye do well here repayre
Ly temple/for to take the ayre
With that sodaynly/I truely awoke
Takynge pen and ynke to make this lytell boke
Go lytell treaty se submyte the humbly
To euery lady/excusynge thy neclygence
Besechynge them/to remembre truely
How thou doost purpose to do thy dylygence
To make suche bokes by true experyence
From daye to daye theyr pastyme to attende
Rather to dye/thon thau wolde them offend.

poem by Stephen Hawes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Ioyfull medytacyon to all Englonde of the coronacyon of our moost naturall souerayne lorde kynge Henry the eyght.

The prologue

The prudent problems/& the noble werkes
Of the gentyll poetes in olde antyquyte
Unto this day hath made famous clerkes
For the poetes wrote nothynge in vanyte
But grounded them on good moralyte
Encensynge out the fayre dulcet fume
Our langage rude to exyle and consume
The ryght eloquent poete and monke of bery
Made many fayre bookes/as it is probable
From ydle derkenes/to lyght our emyspery
Whose vertuous pastyme/was moche cōmendable
Presentynge his bookes/gretely prouffytable
To your worthy predecessour the .v. kynge Henry
Whiche regystred is in the courte of memory
Amyddes the medowe of flora the quene
Of the goddes elycon/is the sprynge or well
And by it groweth/a fayre laurell grene
Of whiche the poetes do ofte wryte and tell
Besyde this olyue/I dyde neuer dwell
To tast the water whiche is aromatyke
For to cause me wryte with lusty rethoryke
Wherfore good souerayne/I beseche your hyghnes
To pardon me whiche do rudely endyte
As in this arte hauynge small intres
But for to lerne is all myn appetyte
In folowynge the monke whiche dyde nobly wryte
Besechynge your hyghnes and grace debonayre
For to accepte this rude and lytell quayre
Explicit prologus.

O God alone in heuen werynge crowne
In whose inspecte is euery regall se
Both to enhaūce & for to cast adowne
Suche is y&supere; power of th&ybar; hygh magiste
Neyther hardynes treasour nor dygnyte
May withstande thy strength whiche is ī euery place
So grete and myghty is thy dyuyne grace
Two tytles in one thou dydest well vnyfye
Whan the rede rose toke the whyte in maryage
Reygnynge togyder ryght hygh and noblye
From whose vnyd tytyls and worthy lygnage
Descended is by ryght excellent courage
Kynge Henry the .viii. for to reygne doutles
Unyuersall his fame honour and larges
Whiche hathe spousyd a fayre floure of vertue
Descended of kynges dame kwtheryn of Spayne
Descended of Kynges dame Kathelyn of Spayne
By grace and prudens the peace to attayne
Wherfore Englonde thou nedes not complayne
Syth thou hast crowned openly in syght
This kynge and quene by good true loue and ryght
What sholde I shewe by perambulacyon
All this grete tryumphe of whiche reporte
Is made aboute nowe in euery nacyon
Unto all this realme to be Ioy and comforte
Wherfore you lordes I humby you exhorte
Spyrytuall and temporall with the comyns vnyfyde
To gyue god the prayse whiche dothe grace prouyde
Englonde be gladde/the dewe of grace is spred
The dewe of Ioy/the dewe holsome and soote
Dystylled is nowe from the rose so red
And of the whyte so spryngynge from the roote
After our trouble to be refute and boote
This ryall tree was planted as I knowe
By god aboue the rancour to downe throwe
Who is the floure that dothe this grace dystyll
But onely Henry the .viii. kynge of his name
With golden droppes all Englonde to fulfyll
To shewe his larges his honour and his fame
His dedes therto exemplefye the same
Wherfore nowe Englonde with hole deuocyon
For this yonge kynge make dayly orayson
Our late souerayne his fader excellent
I knowe ryght well some holde oppynyon
That to auaryce he had entendement
Gadrynge grete rychesse of this his regyon
But they lytell knowe by theyr small reason
For what hye entente he gadered doutles
Unto his grace suche innumerable ryches
For I thinke well and god had sente him lyfe
As they haue meruaylled moche of this gadrynge
So it to them showe haue best affyrmatyfe
To haue had grete wonder of his spendynge
It may fortune he thought to haue mouynge
Of mortall warre our fayth to stablysshe
Agaynst the turkes theyr power to mynysshe
But syth that dethe by his course naturall
Hathe hym arested/and wolde not delay
Lyke wyse as he was so be we mortall
How/where/or whan I cam nothynge say
Therfore to god aboue let vs all pray
For to graunt hym mercy whiche was our kynge
Bryngynge his soule to Ioy euerlastinge
A fayre Englonde mystruste the ryght nought
Regarde ryght well/his sonnes Iustyce
Se how that they whyche inuencyons sought
Delytynge them in the synne of auaryce
To oppresse the comyns by grete preiudyce
Dothe he not punysshe them accordynge to lawe
Suche newe promocyons to dampne and withdrawe
Fy on the saturne with thy mysty fume
Replete with fraude treason and wyckednes
To shewe thy beames thou darest not presume
So cursed thou arte withouten stablenes
Deuoyde of grace fulfylled with doblenes
Thy power to Englonde was neuer amyable
But alwayes euyll vntrue and varyable
Now gentyll Iupyter the lodesterre of lyght
Thy stedfast beames so fayre and so clere
Cast now abrede that we may haue a syght
To gladde vs all whan that they do appere
Sendynge downe trouthe from thy fulgent spere
For to make our hertes mekely to enclyne
To serue our souerayne whiche doth nowe domyne
O myghty Mars o god of the warre
O flambynge honour of euery hardy herte
Sende downe thy power truely from so ferre
Us to encourage that we do not sterte
But by hardynes that we maye subuerte
Our soueraynes enemyes to hym contraryous
By bataylles fyerse ryghtfull and rygorous
And thou fayre bryght/and aureate phebus
Encreace now lyght with loue aud honoure
Amonge the lordes so gay and gloryus
With thy radyant beames so hye of fauoure
Deuoydynge all trechery debate and rancoure
And yllumyne the mynde with lyberalyte
Of our good souerayne with welth and vnyte
And lady Uenus with thy sone Cupyde
Of euery lorde do nowe the herte enspyre
With feruent loue that he do not slyde
And of the comyns set the hertes on fyre
To loue our souerayne with theyr hole desyre
Folowynge his grace with dulcet armonye
To the ryghtfull waye withouten Ieoperdye
Also thou Mercury the god of eloquence
The gentyll sterre of grace and vertue
Thy beames of ryght peace and conscyence
On our kynges counsayll downe sende and renue
The trouthe of Iustyce/that they may extue
For to do wronge by the synne of couetyce
That here before hathe done grete preiudyce
And thou watery dyane of the se the goddes
With thy broder eolus the god of the wynde
Encourage the hertes by in warde hardynes
And enmyes ryse that they be not behynde
Them for to chace and the se to scoure
By grace and fortune in many a stormy stoure
O god aboue/trononysed in heuen
In whose wyll resteth euery thynge alone
The skye/the erthe/with all the planettes seuen
Without whose grace/comforte haue we none
As thou arte thre enclusyd in one
So saue our souerayne/from all maner wo
And this his realme from mortall warre also
Holy chirche reioyse/with all your lybertees
Withouten dōmage/the kynge wyll ye encreace
And be your shelde from all aduersytees
No wronge shall be but he wyll it soone seace
Knyttynge the knotte of fayth loue and peace
Bytwene you and hym without dysturbaunce
So for to endure by longe contynuaunce
Ryght myghty prynce our good souerayne lorde
To god enclynynge be hardy and gladde
Of you and your realme he wyll se concorde
Though other nacyons be therfore full sadde
Agaynst you murmurynge with theyr werkes badde
Yet drede ye nothynge for god with his myght
Wyll be alwaye redy to defende the ryght
Ryght noble/wyse/and excellent pryncesse
Ryght benygne lady/lyberall and vertuous
Dyscended lynyally of the lyne of noblenesse
Fayre quene Katheryne so swete and precyous
To our souerayne espoused with Ioy solacyous
Almyghty god gyue grace to multyplye
From you your floures to reygne ryght ryally
And lady Mary prynces ryght beauteuous
Indued with honour/vertue/and prudence
Ryght meke/goodly/gentyll and gracyous
Syster ryght dere vnto the excellence
Of our good souerayne/surmountynge in sapyence
Ryght fayre yonge lady/the grete lorde aboue
He graunte you grace/hygh fame/fortune/and loue
And all you lordes and ladyes honourable
And you noble knyghtes so hauntynge chyualry
Unto our souerayne be meke and tendable
Whiche wyll rewarde you well and nobly
As to shewe his largesse vnyuersally
Encouragynge your hertes y&supert; courage chyualrous
In tyme of batayll for to be vyctoryous
And all ye offycers of euery degree
Beware extorcyon/for and it be knowen
No doute it is but ye shall punysshed be
Take hede of them/the whiche be ouerthrowen
Remembre well how fortune hathe blowen
The promoters downe/and castynge them full lowe
In folowynge them ye shall fall as I trowe
Englonde be true and loue well eche other
Obey your souerayne/and god omnypotent
Whiche is aboue/of all the worlde the rother
Wyll sende you welth/from whome all good is sente
He gyue vs grace to kepe his comaundement
And saue our souerayne/with his semely quene
With all theyr bloode/without trouble and tene.
Amen

poem by Stephen Hawes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wright's Chaste Wife

Allemyghty god, maker of alle,
Saue you my souereyns in towre & halle,
And send you good grace!
If ye wylle a stounde blynne,
Of a story I wylle begynne,
And telle you alle the cas,
Meny farleyes ?aue herde,
Ye would haue wondyr how yt ferde;
Lystyn, and ye schalle here;
Of a wryght I wylle you telle
That some tyme in thys land gan dwelle,
And lyued by hys myster.
Whether that he were yn or oute,
Of erthely man hadde he no dowte,
To werke hows, harowe, nor plowgh,
Or other werkes, what so they were,
Thous wrought he hem farre and nere,
And dyd tham wele I-nough.
Thys wryght would wedde no wyfe,
Butt yn yougeth to lede hys lyfe
In myrthe and o?ody;
Ouer alle where he gan wende,
Alle they seyd 'welcome, frende,
Sytt downe, and do gla[d]ly.'
Tylle on a tyme he was wyllyng,
As tyme comyth of alle thyng,
(So seyth the profesye,)
A wyfe for to wedde & haue
That myght hys goodes kepe & saue,
And for to leue alle foly.
Ther dwellyd a wydowe in ?tre
That hadde a doughter feyre & fre;
Of her, word sprang wyde,
For sche was bothe stabylle & trewe,
Meke of maners, and feyre of hewe;
So seyd men in that tyde.
The wryght seyde, 'so god me saue,
Such a wyfe would I haue
To lye nyghtly by my syde.'
He ?to speke wyth ?,
And rose erly on a daye
And ?an he to ryde.
The wryght was welcome to ?,
And her saluyd alle so blyve,
And so he dyd her doughter fre:
For the erand that he for came
Tho he spake, ?d yemane;
Than to hym seyd sche:
The wydow seyd, 'by heuen kyng,
I may geue wyth her no ?r> (And ?thynketh me
Saue a garlond I wylle the geue,
Ye schalle neuer see, whyle ye lyve,
None such in thys contre:
Haue here thys garlond of roses ryche,
In alle thys lond ys none yt lyche,
For ytt wylle euer be newe,
Wete ?e withowtyn fable,
Alle the whyle thy wyfe ys stable
The chaplett wolle hold hewe;
And yf thy wyfe vse putry,
Or tolle eny man to lye her by,
Than wolle yt change hewe,
And by the garlond ? see,
Fekylle or fals yf ?e be,
Or ellys yf sche be trewe.'
Of thys chaplett hym was fulle fayne,
And of hys wyfe, was nott to layne;
He weddyd her fulle sone,
And ladde her home wyth solempnite,
And hyld her brydalle dayes thre.
Whan they home come,
Thys wryght in hys hart cast,
If that he walkyd est or west
As he was wonte to done,
'My wyfe ?so bryght of ble
Men wolle desyre here fro me,
And ?tly and sone;'
Butt sone he hym by?br> That a chambyr schuld be wrought
Bothe of lyme and stone,
Wyth wallys strong as eny stele,
And dorres sotylly made and wele,
He owte framyd yt sone;
The chambyr he lett make fast,
Wyth plaster of parys ?le last,
Such ous know I neuer none;
Ther ys kyng ne emperoure,
And he were lockyn in ?re,
That cowde gete owte of ?ne.
Nowe hath he done as he ?
And in the myddes of the flore wrought
A wondyr strange gyle,
A trapdoure rounde abowte
That no man myght come yn nor owte;
It was made wyth a wyle,
That who-so touchyd yt eny thyng,
In to ? he schuld flyng
Wythyn a lytylle whyle.
For hys wyfe he made that place,
That no man schuld beseke her of grace,
Nor her to begyle.

By ?e ? of the towne
Hadde ordeynyd tymbyr redy bowne,
An halle to make of tre.
After the wryght the lord lett sende
For ?schuld wyth hym lende
Monythys two or thre.
The lord seyd, 'woult ?e ??
I wylle send after her blyve
That sche may com to the.'
The wryght hys garlond hadde take wyth hym,
That was bryght and no ?mme,
Yt wes feyre on to see.
The lord axyd hym as he satt,
'Felowe, where hadyst ? hatte
That ys so feyre and newe?'
The wryght answerd alle so blyue,
And seyd, 'syr, I hadde yt wyth my wyfe,
And ?e me neuere rewe;
Syr, by my garlond I may see
Fekylle or fals yf ?e be,
Or yf ?e be trewe;
And yf my wyfe loue a paramoure,
Than wylle my garlond vade coloure,
And change wylle yt the hewe.'
The lord ?'by godys myght,
That wylle I wete thys same nyght
Whether thys tale be trewe.'
To the wryghtys howse anon he went,
He fonde the wyfe ther-in presente
That was so bryght and schene;
Sone he hayled her trewly,
And so dyd sche the lord curtesly:
Sche seyd, 'welcome ye be;'
Thus seyd the wyfe of the hows,
'Syr, howe faryth my swete spowse
That hewyth vppon youre tre?'
'Sertes, dame,' he seyd, 'wele,
And I am come, so haue I hele,
To wete the wylle of the;
My loue ys so vppon the cast
That me thynketh my hert wolle brest,
It wolle none otherwyse be;
Good dame, graunt me thy grace
To pley with the in some preuy place
For gold and eke for fee.'
'Good syr, lett be youre fare,
And of such wordes speke no mare
For hys loue ?d on tre;
Hadde we onys begonne ?,
My husbond by his garlond myght see;
For sorowe he would wexe woode.'
'Certes, dame,' he seyd, 'naye;
Loue me, I pray you, in ?maye:
For godys loue change thy mode,
Forty marke schalle be youre mede
Of syluer and of gold [so] rede,
And that schalle do the good.'
'Syr, that deede schalle be done;
Take me that mony here anone.'
'I swere by the holy rode
I thought when I cam hyddere
For to bryng yt alle to-gyddere,
As I mott breke my heele.'
Ther sche toke xl marke
Of syluer and gold styff and sterke:
Sche toke yt feyre and welle;
Sche seyd, 'in to the chambyr wylle we,
Ther no man schalle vs see;
No lenger wylle we spare.'
Vp the steyer they gan hye:
The stepes were made so queyntly
That farther myght he nott fare.
The lord stumbyllyd as he went in hast,
He felle doune in to ?ste
Forty fote and somedele more.
The lord began to crye;
The wyfe seyd to hym in hye,
'Syr, what do ye there?'
'Dame, I can nott seye howe
That I am come hydder nowe
To thys hows ?so newe;
I am so depe in thys sure flore
That I ne can come owte att no dore;
Good dame, on me ?e!'
'Nay,' sche seyd, 'so mut y the,
Tylle myne husbond come and se,
I schrewe hym ??'
The lord arose and lokyd abowte
If he myght eny where gete owte,
But yt holpe hym ryght noght,
The wallys were so thycke wythyn,
That he no where myght owte wynne
But helpe to hym were brought;
And euer the lord made euylle chere,
And seyd, 'dame, ?alt by thys dere.'
Sche seyd that sche ne rought;
Sche seyd 'I recke nere
Whyle I am here and ? there,
I schrewe herre ?doth drede.'
The lord was sone owte of her ?
The wyfe went in to her lofte,
Sche satte and dyd here dede.
Than yt felle on ?r daye
Of mete and drynke he gan her pray,
There of he hadde gret nede.
He seyd, 'dame, for seynt charyte,
Wyth some mete ?fort me.'
Sche seyd, 'nay, so god me spede,
For I swere by swete seynt Iohne,
Mete ne drynke ne getyst ?e
Butt ?t swete or swynke;
For I haue both hempe and lyne,
And a betyngstocke fulle fyne,
And a swyngylle good and grete;
If ?t worke, tell me sone.'
'Dame, bryng yt forthe, yt schalle be done,
Fulle gladly would I ete.'
Sche toke the stocke in her honde,
And in to the pytt sche yt sclang
Wyth a grete hete:
Sche brought the lyne and hempe on her backe,
'Syr lord,' sche seyd, 'haue ?,
And lerne for to swete.'
Ther sche toke hym a bonde
For to occupy hys honde,
And bade hym fast on to bete.
He leyd yt downe on the stone,
And leyd on strockes welle good wone,
And sparyd nott on to leyne.
Whan ?hadde wrought a thraue,
Mete and drynke he gan to craue,
And would haue hadde yt fayne;
'That I hadde somewhat for to ete
Now after my gret swete;
Me thynketh yt were ryght,
For I haue labouryd nyght and daye
The for to plese, dame, I saye,
And therto putt my myght.'
The wyfe seyd 'so mutt I haue hele,
And yf ?e be wrought wele
Thou schalt haue to dyne.'
Mete and drynke sche hym bare,
Wyth a thrafe of flex mare
Of fulle long boundyn lyne.
So feyre the wyfe the lord gan praye
That he schuld be werkyng aye,
And nought ?schuld blynne;
The lord was fayne to werke tho,
Butt hys men knewe nott of hys woo
Nor of ?des pyne.

The stuard to ?ht gan saye,
'Sawe ?e of my lord to-daye,
Whether that he ys wende?'
The wryght answerde and seyd 'naye;
I sawe hym nott syth yesterdaye;
I trowe ?be schent.'
The stuard stode ?ht by,
And of hys garlond hadde ferly
What ?be-mente.
The stuard seyd, 'so god me saue,
Of thy garlond wondyr I haue,
And who yt hath the sent.'
'Syr,' he seyd, 'be the same hatte
I can knowe yf my wyfe be badde
To me by eny other man;
If my floures ou?e or falle,
Then doth my wyfe me wrong wyth-alle,
As many a woman can.'
The stuard ?'by godes myght,
That schalle I preue thys same nyght
Whether ?s or banne,'
And in to hys chambyr he gan gone,
And toke tresure fulle good wone,
And forth he spedde hem than.
Butt he ne stynt att no stone
Tylle he vn-to ?htes hows come
That ylke same nyght.
He mett the wyfe amydde the gate,
Abowte ?e he gan her take,
And seyd 'my dere wyght,
Alle the good ?myne
I wylle the geue to be thyne
To lye by the alle nyght.'
Sche seyd, 'syr, lett be thy fare,
My husbond wolle wete wyth-owtyn mare
And I hym dyd that vnryght;
I would nott he myght yt wete
For alle the good that I myght gete,
So Ihesus mutt me spede;
For, and eny man lay me by,
My husbond would yt wete truly,
It ys wythowtyn eny drede.'
The stuard seyd 'for hym ?wrought,
There-of, dame, drede the noght
Wyth me to do that dede;
Haue here of me xx marke
Of gold and syluer styf and starke,
Thys tresoure schalle be thy mede.'
'Syr, and I graunt ?you,
Lett no man wete butt we two nowe.'
He seyd, 'nay, wythowtyn drede.'
The stuard ? 'sykerly
Women beth both queynte & slye.'
The mony he gan her bede;
He ?wele to haue be spedde,
And of his erand he was onredde
Or he were fro hem I-gone.
Vp the sterys sche hym leyde
Tylle he saw the wryghtes bedde:
Of tresoure rought he none;
He went and stumblyd att a stone,
In to ?ere he fylle sone
Downe to the bare flore.
The lord seyd 'what deuylle art ?> And ?est falle on me nowe,
Thowe hadest hurt me fulle sore.'
The stuard stert and staryd abowte
If he myght ower gete owte
Att hole lesse or mare.
The lord seyd, 'welcome, and sytt be tyme,
For ?alt helpe to dyght thys lyne
For alle thy fers fare.'
The stuard lokyd on the knyght,
He seyd, 'syr, for godes myght,
My lord, what do you here?'
He seyd 'felowe, wyth-owtyn oth,
For o erand we come bothe,
The sothe wolle I nott lete.'
Tho cam the wyfe them vn-to,
And seyd, 'syres, what do you to,
Wylle ye nott lerne to swete?'
Than seyd ? her vn-to,
'Dame, youre lyne ys I-doo,
Nowe would I fayne ete:
And I haue made yt alle I-lyke,
Fulle clere, and no ?ycke,
Me thynketh yt gret payne.'
The stuard seyd 'wyth-owtyn dowte,
And euer I may wynne owte,
I wyll breke her brayne.'
'Felowe, lett be, and sey nott so,
For ?alt worke or euer ?,
Thy wordes ?ne agayne,
Fayne ?alt be so to doo,
And thy good wylle put ?br> As a man buxome and bayne
Thowe schalt rubbe, rele, and spynne,
And ?t eny mete wynne,
That I geue to god a gyfte.'
The stuard seyd, 'then haue I wondyr;
Rather would I dy for hungyr
Wyth-owte hosylle or shryfte.'
The lord seyd, 'so haue I hele,
Thowe wylt worke, yf ?gyr welle,
What worke ? be brought.'
The lord satt and dyd hys werke,
The stuard drewe in to the derke,
Gret sorowe was in hys ?
The lord seyd, 'dame, here ys youre lyne,
Haue yt in godes blessyng and myne,
I hold yt welle I-wrought.'
Mete and drynke sche gaue hym yn,
'The stuard,' sche seyd, 'wolle he nott spynne,
Wylle he do ryght noght?'
The lord seyd, 'by swete sen Ione,
Of thys mete schalle he haue none
That ye haue me hydder brought.'
The lord ete and dranke fast,
The stuard hungeryd att ?,
For he gaue hym nought.
The stuard satt alle in a stody,
Hys lord hadde forgote curtesy:
Tho seyd ?rd, 'geue me some.'
The lord seyd, 'sorow haue ?elle or sope
That schalle come in thy throte;
Nott so much as a crome!
Butt ?t helpe to dyght ?e,
Much hungyr yt schalle be thyne
Though ?e much mone.'
Vp he rose, and went therto,
'Better ys me ?doo
Whyle yt must nedys be do.'
The stuard began fast to knocke,
The wyfe ?m a swyngelyng stocke,
Hys mete ? to wyn;
Sche brought a swyngylle at ?,
'Good syres,' sche seyd, 'swyngylle on fast;
For no ?at ye blynne.'
Sche gaue hym a stocke to sytt vppon,
And seyd 'syres, ?ke must nedys be done,
Alle that that ys here yn.'
The stuard toke vp a stycke to saye,
'Sey, seye, swyngylle better yf ye may,
Hytt wylle be the better to spynne.'
Were ? neuer so gret,
Yet was he fayne to werke for hys mete
Though he were neuer so sadde;
Butt ?rd ? so stowde,
Was fayne to swyngelle ?es owte,
Ther-of he was nott glad.
The lordys meyne ?e att home
Wyst nott where he was bycome,
They were fulle sore adrad.

The proctoure of ?sche chyrche ryght
Came and lokyd on ?ht,
He lokyd as he were madde;
Fast ?toure gan hym frayne,
'Where hadest ? garlond gayne?
It ys euer lyke newe.'
The wryght gan say 'felowe,
Wyth my wyfe, yf ?t knowe;
That dare me nott rewe;
For alle the whyle my wyfe trew ys,
My garlond wolle hold hewe I-wys,
And neuer falle nor fade;
And yf my wyfe take a paramoure,
Than wolle my garlond vade ?re,
That dare I ley myne hede.'
The proctoure ? 'in good faye
That schalle I wete thys same daye
Whether yt may so be.'
To the wryghtes hows he went,
He grete ? wyth feyre entente,
Sche seyd 'syr, welcome be ye.'
'A! dame, my loue ys on you fast
Syth the tyme I sawe you last;
I pray you yt may so be
That ye would graunt me of youre grace
To play wyth you in some priuy place,
Or ellys to deth mutt me.'
Fast ?toure gan to pray,
And euer to hym sche seyd 'naye,
That wolle I nott doo.
Hadest ?e ?e wyth me,
My spouse by hys garlond myght see,
That schuld torne me to woe.'
The proctoure seyd, 'by heuen kyng,
If he sey to the any ?> He schalle haue sorowe vnsowte;
Twenty marke I wolle ?,
It wolle ?e welle to lyue,
The mony here haue I brought.'
Nowe hath sche the tresure tane,
And vp ?re be they gane,
(What helpyth yt to lye?)
The wyfe went the steyre be-syde,
The proctoure went a lytylle to wyde
He felle downe by and by.
Whan he in to ?er felle,
He wente to haue sonke in to helle,
He was in hart fulle sory.
The stuard lokyd on the knyght,
And seyd 'proctoure, for godes myght,
Come and sytt vs by.'
The proctoure began to stare,
For he was he wyst neuer whare,
Butt wele he knewe ?ht
And the stuard ?ngelyd ?.
He seyd 'syres, for godes pyne,
What do ye here thys nyght?'
The stuard seyd, 'god geue the care,
Thowe camyst to loke howe we fare,
Nowe helpe ?e were dyght.'
He stode stylle in a gret ?
What to answer he wyst noght:
'By mary fulle of myght,'
The proctoure seyd, 'what do ye in ?br> For to bete thys wyfes lyne?
For Jhesus loue, fulle of myght,'
The proctoure seyd ryght as he ?
'For me yt schalle be euylle wrought
And I may see aryght,
For I lernyd neuer in londe
For to haue a swyngelle in hond
By day nor be nyght.'
The stuard seyd, 'as good as ? We hold vs that be here now,
And lett preue yt be syght;
Yet must vs worke for owre mete,
Or ellys schalle we none gete,
Mete nor drynke to owre honde.'
The lord seyd, 'why flyte ye two?
I trowe ye wylle werke or ye goo
Yf yt be as I vndyrstond.'
Abowte he goys twyes or thryes;
They ete & drynke in such wyse
That ?e hym ryght noght.
The proctoure seyd, 'thynke ye no schame,
Yheue me some mete, (ye be to blame,)
Of that the wyfe ye brought.'
The stuard seyd 'euylle spede the soppe
If eny morcelle come in thy throte
Butt ?h vs hadest wrought.'
The proctoure stode in a stody
Whether he myght worke hem by;
And so to torne hys ?
To the lord he drewe nere,
And to hym seyd wyth myld chere,
'That mary mott the spede.'
The proctoure began to knocke,
The good wyfe rawte hym a rocke,
For therto hadde sche nede;
Sche seyd 'whan I was mayde att home,
Other werke cowde I do none
My lyfe ther-wyth to lede.'
Sche gaue hym in hande a rocke hynde,
And bade hem fast for to wynde
Or ellys to lett be hys dede.
'Yes, dame,' he seyd, 'so haue I hele,
I schalle yt worke both feyre & welle
As ye haue taute me.'
He wauyd vp a strycke of lyne,
And he span wele and fyne
By-fore the swyngelle tre.
The lord seyd '?nnest to grete,
Therfor ?alt haue no mete,
That ?alt welle see.'
Thus ?t and wrought fast
Tylle ? dayes were past;
Then the wryght, home came he,
And as he cam by hys hows syde
He herd noyse that was not ryde
Of persons two or thre;
One of hem knockyd lyne,
A-nothyr swyngelyd good and fyne
By-fore the swyngylle tre,
The thyrde did rele and spynne,
Mete and drynke ther-wyth to wynne,
Gret nede ther-of hadde he.
Thus ?ht stode herkenyng;
Hys wyfe was ware of hys comyng,
And ageynst hym went sche.
'Dame,' he seyd, 'what ys ?ne?
I here gret noyse here wythynne;
Telle me, so god the spede.'
'Syr,' sche seyd, 'workemen thre
Be come to helpe you and me,
Ther-of we haue gret nede;
Fayne would I wete what they were.'
But when he sawe hys lord there,
Hys hert bygan to drede
To see hys lord in ?ce,
He ?yt was a strange cas,
And seyd, 'so god hym spede,
What do ye here, my lord and knyght?
Telle me nowe for godes myght
Howe cam thys vn-to?'
The knyght seyd 'What ys best rede?
Mercy I aske for my mysdede,
My hert ys wondyr wo.'
'So ys myne, verament,
To se you among thys flex and hempe,
Fulle sore yt ruyth me;
To se you in such hevynes,
Fulle sore myne hert yt doth oppresse,
By god in trinite.'
The wryght bade hys wyfe lett hym owte,
'Nay, ?owe come on my snowte
If they passe hens to-daye
Tylle that my lady come and see
Howe ?ld haue done wyth me,
Butt nowe late me saye.'
Anon sche sent after the lady bryght
For to fett home her lord and knyght,
Therto sche seyd noght;
Sche told her what they hadde ment,
And of ther purpos & ther intente
That they would haue wrought.
Glad was ?y of that tydyng;
When sche wyst her lord was lyuyng,
Ther-of sche was fulle fayne:
Whan sche came vn-to ?re abouen,
Sche lokyd vn-to ?er downe,
And seyd,-?nott to leyne,-
'Good syres, what doo you here?'
'Dame, we by owre mete fulle dere,
Wyth gret trauayle and peyne;
I pray you helpe ?were owte,
And I wylle swere wythowtyn dowte
Neuer to come here agayne.'
The lady spake the wyfe vn-tylle,
And seyd 'dame, yf yt be youre wylle,
What doo thes meyny here?'
The carpentarys wyfe her answerd sykerly,
'Alle they would haue leyne me by,
Euerych in ther manere,
Gold and syluer they me brought,
And forsoke yt, and would yt noght,
The ryche gyftes so clere.
Wyllyng ?e to do me schame,
I toke ther gyftes wyth-owtyn blame,
And ther they be alle thre.'
The lady answerd her anon,
'I haue thynges to do att home
Mo than two or thre;
I wyst my lord neuer do ryght noght
Of no ?t schuld be wrought,
Such as fallyth to me.'
The lady lawghed and made good game
Whan they came owte alle in-same
From the swyngylle tre.
The knyght seyd 'felowys in fere,
I am glad ?be here,
By godes dere pyte;
Dame, and ye hadde bene wyth vs,
Ye would haue wrought, by swete Ihesus,
As welle as dyd we.'
And when they cam vp abouen
They turnyd abowte and lokyd downe,
The lord seyd, 'so god saue me,
Yet hadde I neuer such a fytte
As I haue hadde in ?e pytte;
So mary so mutt me spede.'
The knyght and thys lady bryght,
Howe they would home that nyght,
For no thyng they would abyde;
And so they went home;
Thys seyd Adam of Cobsam.
By the weye as they rode
Throwe a wode in ther playeng,
For to here the fowlys syng
They hovyd stylle and bode.
The stuard sware by godes ore,
And so dyd the proctoure much more,
That neuer in ther lyfe
Would they no more come in ?ne
Whan they were onys thens come,
Thys forty yere and fyve.
Of the tresure that they brought
The lady would geue hem ryght noght,
Butt gaue yt to the wryghtes wyfe.
Thus the wryghtes garlond was feyre of hewe,
And hys wyfe bothe good and trewe:
There-of was he fulle blythe;
I take wytnes att gret and smalle,
Thus trewe bene good women alle
That nowe bene on lyve,
So come thryste on ther hedys
Whan they mombylle on ther bedys
Ther pater noster ryue.

Here ys wretyn a geste of the wryght
That hadde a garlond welle I-dyght,
The coloure wylle neuer fade.
Now god ?heuyn kyng
Graunt vs alle hys dere blessyng
Owre hertes for to glade;
And alle tho that doo her husbondys ryght,
Pray we to Ihesu fulle of myght,
That feyre mott hem byfalle,
And that they may come to heuen blys,
For thy dere moderys loue ther-of nott to mys,
Alle good wyues alle.
Now alle tho that thys tretys hath hard,
Ihesu graunt hem for her reward
As trew louers to be
As was the wryght vn-to hys wyfe
And sche to hym duryng her lyfe.
Amen, for charyte.

Here endyth the wryghtes processe trewe
Wyth hys garlond feyre of hewe
That neuer dyd fade the coloure.
It was made by the avyse
Of hys wywes moder wytty and wyse
Of flourys most of honoure,
Of roses whyte ?le nott fade,
Whych floure alle ynglond doth glade
Wyth trewloues medelyd in syght;
Vn-to the whych floure I-wys
The loue of god and of the comenys
Subdued bene of ryght.

EXPLICIT

poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Of Too Much Spekynge Or Bablynge

He that his tunge can temper and refrayne
And asswage the foly of hasty langage
Shall kepe his mynde from trouble, sadnes and payne,
And fynde therby great ease and avauntage;
Where as a hasty speker falleth in great domage
Peryll and losse, in lyke wyse as the pye
Betrays hir byrdes by hir chatrynge and crye....

Is it not better for one his tunge to kepe
Where as he myght (perchaunce) with honestee,
Than wordes to speke whiche make hym after wepe
For great losse folowynge wo and adversyte?
A worde ones spokyn revoked can not be,
Therfore thy fynger lay before thy types,
For a wyse mannys tunge without advysement trypes.

He that wyll answere of his owne folysshe brayne
Before that any requyreth his counsayle
Shewith him selfe and his hasty foly playne,
Wherby men knowe his wordes of none avayle.
Some have delyted in mad blaborynge and frayle
Whiche after have supped bytter punysshement
For their wordes spoken without advysement....

Many have ben whiche sholde have be counted wyse
Sad and discrete, and right well sene in scyence;
But all they have defyled with this one vyse
Of moche spekynge: o cursyd synne and offence
Ryte it is that so great inconvenience
So great shame, contempt rebuke and vylany
Sholde by one small member came to the hole body.

Let suche take example by the chatrynge pye,
Whiche doth hyr nest and byrdes also betraye
By hyr grete chatterynge, clamoure dyn and crye,
Ryght so these folys theyr owne foly bewraye.
But touchynge wymen of them I wyll nought say,
They can not speke, but ar as coy and styll
As the horle wynde or clapper of a mylle.

poem by Sebastian Brant
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The Example of Vertu : Cantos VIII.-XIV.

Capitalum VIII.

Dame Sapyence taryed a lytell whyle
Behynd the other saynge to Dyscrecyon
And began on her to laugh and smyle
Axynge her how I stode in condycyon
Well she sayd in good perfeccyon
But best it is that he maryed be
For to eschewe all yll censualyte
I knowe a lady of meruelous beaute
Spronge out of hyghe and noble lynage
Replete with vertue and full of bounte
Whiche vnto youth were a good maryage
For she is comen of royall apparage
But herde it wyll be to gete her loue
Without youth frayltye do sore reproue
I kneled downe than vpon my kne
Afore dame Sapyence with humble chere
Besechynge her of me to haue pyte
And also Dyscrecyon her syster dere
Than dame Sapyence came me nere
Saynge youth wyll ye haue a wyfe
And her to loue durynge her lyfe
Ye madame that wolde I fayne
Yf that she be both fayre and bryght
I wyll her loue euer more certayne
And pleas her alway with all my myght
Of suche a persone wolde I haue a syght
With all my herte now at this houre
Wolde to god I had so fayre a floure
Than sayd dyscrecyon there is a kynge
Dwellynge fer hens in a fayre castell
Of whome I oft haue herd grete talkynge
Whiche hath a doughter as I you tell
I trowe that youth wyll lyke her well
She is both good eke fayre and pure
As I report me vnto dame Nature
But yf that youth sholde her go seke
Ye must syster than hym well indue
With your grete power so good and meke
That he all frayltye may eschue
For by the way it wyll oft pursue
On hym by flatery and grete temptacyon
That shall brynge hym in tribulacyon
As for that sayd she he shall not care
For he shall theym sone ouercome
And of theyr flatery ryght well beware
For I to hym shall gyue grete wysedome
Theyr dedes to withstande & make theym dōme
Wherfore dere syster as I you pray
Unto her lede hym now on the way
Loke that ye send me in his necessyte
By dame swyftnes full sone a letter
By whiche that I may knowe the certaynte
That I may come to ayde hym beter
So that fraylte to hym be no freter
And though I be not alway vysyble
With hym my power he hath inuyncyble
Than sayd dame Sapyence to dyscrecyon
Fare well dere syster I may not tary
Loke ye of youth haue the tuycyon
That he fall not into vaynglory
And that ye puruey for hym shortly
That he may wedde the fayre dame clennesse
Whiche for her loue haue ben in duresse
With that dame Sapyence downe went
Into her place that was the doctrynall
Of famous clerkes in connynge splendent
A myrrour of lernyng that was dyuynall
With all the craftes artyfycyall
Byfore her dame Fortune went to her mancyon
And eke dame hardynes to her habytacyon

Capitulum nonum

Forth than went dyscrecyon and I
Out of the castell into a grene
Where byrdys sange by grete melody
There daunst also the fayre quene
Besyde a ryuer named Ephesene
Ouer whiche we wente to the other syde
That was a medowe both longe and wyde
Longe there we wandred tyll at the last
We came vnto a ryght grete wyldernes
By that tyme Phebus was ouer past
Wherfore we walked in grete derkenes
The whiche to me was a grete heuynes
For Lucyna eke dyd her shrowde
Under a blacke and mysty clowde
For she was horned and no thynge cleere
And entred into the sygne of caprycorne
Ryght ferre from phebus fulgent speere
And not ayenst hym the crowne had worne
I went vp and downe tyll on the morne
That phebus his golden reyes dyd sprede
Than dyscrecyon ferther forth me lede
Amonge thornes sharpe & bestes wylde
There was the lyon the wolf & the bere
But I coude mete nother man ne chylde
But many serpentes that dyde me fere
And by a swete smelle I knewe a pantere
So forth I went by longe contynuaunce
Tyll that I sawe an herber of pleasaunce
To whiche I toke anone my waye
Where that I sawe a lady excellent
Rydynge on a goote in fresshe arraye
Ryght yonge of age & lusty of entent
Prayenge me to her for to assent
As to fulfyll the flesshly pleasure
Whiche she desyred me out of mesure
Nay sayd dyscrecyon that may not be
No sayd I in no maner of wyse
To her request I wyll now agree
But euermore here foule lust despyse
For I my selfe do now aduyse
To kepe me chast that I may mary
Fayre dame Clennes that noble lady

So forth I went walkynge my iournay
Metynge a lady olde and amyable
Syttynge in a castell both fressh and gay
On an olyphauntes backe in strength so stable
Whiche it to bere was good and able
Hauynge in her hande a cup of golde
Sette with perles ryght many afolde
She sayd she was the lady of rychesse
The quene of welth and worldely glory
Praynge me to company with her noblenesse
And she than wolde promote me shortely
To innumerable ryches and make me worthy
Where I am poore and sette by nought
By her to worshyp I sholde be brought
Unto her I answered I wolde not so
As for to hunt in the parke of pryde
The whiche to Clennes is mortall fo
But with Dyscrecyon I wyll abyde
Whiche doth a wyfe for me prouyde
By whome I shall haue the possessyowne
Of heuenly kyngdome & grete renowne
So forth I went and had grete trauayle
Without the comfort of ony persons
Saue of dyscrecyon whiche dyd me counsayle
As she went walkynge with me alone
Unto her I made full grete mone
And lykened the wyldernes by morall scence
Unto worldely trouble by good experyence
She sayd the fyrst lady that I dyd mete
Iclyped was dame Sensualyte
Whiche can well flater with wordes swete
Causynge a man to fall into fragylyte
And for to haunt the carnall freylte
Whiche vnto clennes is abhomynable
For they in werke be gretely varyable
The seconde was pryde enduyd with couetyse
A lady of ryght fruytles medytacyon
Delytynge gretly in the synne of auaryce
The whiche is cause of her dampnacyon
For she by her fals supportacyon
Blyndeth many a mannes conscyence
And dryueth ryght oft fer in absence
So ferther I went tyll at the last
I was in a mase goynge in and oute
Ther was none other way I was agast
But forth I walked in grete doute
Now here now there and so rounde aboute
Than sayd vnto me dame Dyscrecyon
Ye are in the besynes of worldely fastyon
There in I trauayled by longe space
Tyll that I mette a lady gloryous
Indued with vertue and grete grace
To whom I sayd o lady precyous
As ye seme to be good and vertuous
I you beseche now without delaye
Unto dame Clennes to teche me the waye
I Sapyence now wyll shewe to the
The ryght waye vnto fayre clennes
And yf thou wylt be ruled by me
Thou shalt mary that noble prynces
Yes that wyll I sayd than douteles
Dyscrecyon sayd she wolde be my suerte
Sapyence sayd none better myght be
Than sayd dyscrecyon to dame sapyence
Welcome to vs my syster dere
And I to her dyd humble reuerence
Saynge who had went to fynde you here
Yes she sayd I haue ben neere
You often tymes syth my departynge
And haue ben cause of your goode gydynge

Capitulum X.

Come on your waye walke on a pace
For ye longe for to haue a syght
Of dame Clennes so clere a face
So goodely of body in beauty bryght
That there can not be so fayre a wyght
So forth we walked to a ryuer syde
That ebbed and flowed at euery tyde
Than I saw a castell a pales royall
Bylded with marble blacke as the gette
With glasse wyndowes as clere as crystall
Whiche on the other syde was sette
No man to the castell myght gette
But ouer the water on a lytell brydge
Not halfe so brode as a hous rydge
But as I cast myn eye than asyde
I saw a lady wounderous fayre
Demure of contenaunce without pryde
That went her selfe for to repayre
By the water syde to take the ayre
Beholde and se than sayd dame sapyence
Yonder is dame Clennes the sterre of excellence
Full glad was I than in my mynde
For to se that flour of complacence
The syght of her dyd my herte bynde
Euer her to loue with percynge influence
Unto her I sayd o well of contynence
Unto your grace fayne wolde I go
Ner lettynge of this water blo
To me she answered than agayne
Saynge this worlde withouten mys
Is but a vanyte no thynge certayne
In the lyke wyse as this water is
Ye can not come to me now ywys
But by that brydge that goth ouer
This stormy troublous & wawy water
Therof sayd sapyence he shall not lette
Well sayd Clennes be you his gyde
And dyscrecyon also for to be sette
For to vpholde hym vnto the other syde
That he do not in the water slyde
So to the brydge they dyde me lede
I quacked than for fere and drede
I sawe there wryten this lytterall sence
No man this brydge may ouer go
But he be pure without neglygence
And stedfast in goddes byleue also
Yf he be ignoraunt and do not so
He must nedys into this water fall
Ouer the heed and be drowned with all
They led me ouer this brydge so peryllous
Tyll that I came to a preuy place
Where were wryten with letters gloryous
This is the kyngdome of grete grace
No man by yonde this marke may trace
But yf he be brought in by dame wysedome
If he so be he is moche welcome
So forthermore yet forth we went
Into a hall that was solacyous
Made of precyous stones splendent
That theym to se it was ryght wounderous
They were there so gretly plenteuous
That the hall paued was for the nones
With none other grauell but precyous stones

There was dame Clennes that lady gent
And eke her fader the kynge of loue
He satte in a chayre ryght clere and excellent
At the vpper ende of the hall aboue
He satte styll and dyd not remoue
Gyrde with wylowes and myght not se
No maner a thynge in his degre
He had two wynges ryght large and grete
And his body also was naked
And a dart in his ryght hand was sette
And a torche in his left hand brenned
A botell aboute his necke was hanged
His one leg armed and naked the other
Hym for to se it was a wonder
Sapyence bad me meruayll no thynge
For she wold shewe me the sygnifycacyon
Why he so sate by shorte rekenynge
Accordynge to a morylyzacyon
Now of the fyrste to make relacyon
Loue sholde be gyrde faste with stabylyte
Without whiche loue can haue no suerte
Loue may not se but is alway blynde
And wenyth no man can haue perseueraūce
Where that he loueth by naturall kynde
But he do shewe hym by wordes of vteraūce
Trught he bewreyeth hym by contenaunce
For hard it wyll be loue so to couere
But that som man shall it perceuere
Also his nakednes doth sygnyfy
That true loue no thynge ellys desyreth
But the very persone and eke body
That he so well and feruentely loueth
His wynges also well betokenyth
That his mynde fleeth vnto the persone
That he doth loue so well alone
And also loue is stryken with a sharpe darte
That maketh a man for to complayn
Whan that it hath wounded sore his herte
It brenneth hote lyke fyre certeyn
Than loue his purpose wolde fayne atteyn
And is euermore both hoot and drye
Tyll his lady gyue hym drynke of mercy
His one legge is armed to defende
The ryght that longeth vnto amyte
And wronge loue for to amende
His naked legge betokeneth charyte
That is the Ioye of grete felycyte
So charyte ryght loue and good concorde
With stablynes reygneth in this myghty lorde

Capitulum XI.

Than forth me led good dame Sapyence
Afore that myghty lordes mageste
Come on she sayd put the in presence
hat thou mayst se dame clennes beaute
Ponder in thy mynde by veryte
That so fayre as she was not quene helyn
Quene Ipolyte or yonge Polyxyn
This lady is clene without corrupcyon
And wereth thre crownes for her vyrgynyte
One is for people of perfyt relygyon
An other for maydens kepynge chastyte
The therde for true wedowes as y&superu; mayst se
I wyll the now to her fader present
Her for to mary yf she wyll consent
Than sayd dame sapyence o noble emperour
O souerayne lorde and royall potestate
O vyctoryous prynce & famous conquerour
O kynge of loue and seaser of debate
To the no creature may say chekmate
I present the now this vertuous knyght
For to mary clennes your doughter bryght
I thanke you he sayd for your good wyll
But he that to Clennes maryed must be
He must my commaundement fyrste fulfyll
As to scomfyte the dragon with heedes thre
That is a serpent of grete subtylte
Whiche well betokeneth as we do fynde
The worlde the flesshe & the deuyll by kynde
Sapyence sayd I sholde not fayle
To do his commaūdement for Clennes sake
As for to sle the dragon in batayle
That lay in a marys in a grete lake
Whiche was moche stynkynge foule & blake
Wysedome bade me be not aferde
For she wolde gyue me a shelde and swerde
And arme me also with fayre armure
To vaynquysshe that dragon so ferse & grete
She sayd it sholde be so good and sure
That I no harme of hym sholde gete
Though he his teth on me had sete
Yet sholde I slee hym for all his myght
By my grete strokes whan I dyd fyght
Fyrst she my legge harneys sette on
And after my plackerd of grete ryches
She armed me her selfe alone
And laced my helmet of her gentylnes
I thanked her for her grete goodnes
And gaue me my swerde and sheld also
Saynge lete vs to the dragon go
This is the armure for the soule
That in his epystole wrote saynt Poule
Good hope thy legge harneys shall be
The habergyn of ryghtwysnes gyrde w&supert; chastyte
Thy plackarde of besynes w&supert; braūches of almes dede
Thy shelde of beleue and mekenes for the hede
Thy swerde shall be the to defend
The worde of god the deuyll to blynde

Dame sapyence & I dyd take our lycence
Of the kynge of loue in vertue depured
And of his doughter shynynge in excellence
Whiche to me sayd with wordes assured
O vertuous knyght you for me haue dured
Ingrete wo & payne but thynke you verely
To scomfyt that dragon by wysedome shortly
Than went we forth to that serpent
In merueylous trauayle of sorowe and bale
By that tyme the daye ryght fayre was spent
And phebus his course began to auale
But at the last we came into a dale
Wher we felt the sauer of a dungeon
Of the foule and stynkynge dragon
Nere to that dragon there was a way
That men vsed vpon a fayre hyll
Unto hyghe heuen so fressh and gay
But that dragon lette theym theyr wyll
And by the way he dyd theym kyll
Bryngynge theym vnto the dungeon
Iclyped the place of grete oblyuyon
I had not be there halfe an houre
But that this dragon me approched
As though that he wolde me deuoure
He so fersly than on me marched
The batayle bytwene vs longe contynued
But he had me ryght sone ouercome
If I had not helpe of dame wysedome
I strake at hym fast with my swerde
And with my shelde dyd me defende
Wysedome bad me not be aferde
But my stroke that for to amende
As fer as my myght weld extende
So by her wordes I plucked vp myn herte
And dyd than vnto the dragon sterte
But he caught me than in his clawes
And so we wrasteled longe to gyder
But he hyld me sharpely in his pawes
Tyll wysedom my feblenesse dyd consyder
Beholde she sayd dame clennes yonder
Than as a syde I cast all my syght
I sawe that lady so pure and bryght
My strength than dobeled an hundred folde
And I from hym brake by vertuous prowes
My herte was warme that afore was colde
With the cōfortable syght of fayre dame clennes
Than I to hym gaue strokes of exces
And with my sharpe swerde cut of anone
Two of his heedes leuynge hym but one
These two heedes by good morall sens
The worlde and the flesshe do sygnyfy
As I in scrypture haue intellygence
The fyrste the worlde that is transytory
Lyeth bytwene man and heuenly glory
Lettyuge hym often of his passage
If it of hym can gete auauntage
The seconde is the flesshly desyre
That troubleth a man ryght sore within
Settynge his courage vpon a fyre
Causynge hym to enclyne to dedely syn
His flessh the batayll of hym doth wyn
Often bryngynge hym into dampnacyon
If repentaunce were not his saluacyon
Repentaunce alway requyreth mercy
And penaunce to god is a satisfaccyon
For god desyreth euermore truely
An humble herte full of contrycon
And the worlde desyreth restytucyon
Of goodes that haue be goten wrongfully
To be restored vnto the ryghtfull party
Whan I by wysedom had won the vyctory
Of these two heedes I was ryght glad
His thyrde heed marched ayenst me sharpely
But I my swerd in my hand had
Strykynge at hym with strokes sad
And blode of hym coude I drawe none
For he had nother flesshe ne bone
But at the last I dyd hym vaynquysshe
Dryuynge hym home to his derke regyon
Of infernall payne that shall not fynysshe
For hell is called his propre mancyon
And of all other of his opynyon
That do the preceptes of god forsake
And to deuelyche werkes theym do be take
God by his ryghtwysnes made a lawe
By whiche man for dedely synne is condēpned
If god his vengeaunce do not withdrawe
In euerlastynge payne he sholde be prysoned
But and man mercy of hym requyred
With penytent hert he sholde it haue
And with his mercy he wyll man saue.

Capitulum XII.
Whan I had scomfyte this serpent venymous
Sapyence to me ryght gentely sayd
Blessyd be god ye are so gracyous
That ye shall mary Clennes the mayd
But yet erwhyles ye were a frayd
Ye I sayd and swet full ryght sore
Tyll ye newe strength dyd me restore
This batayll was grete & longe endured
Whiche caused me to be ryght wery
But sapyence with her wordes me mured
With walles of comfort makynge me mery
Come on she sayd and walke on lyghtly
Unto the castell that we come fro
I answered to her I wolde do so
Than forth we went a grete pace
Tyll that we came to the castell syde
There mette vs ladyes with grete solace
And welcomed vs at the same tyde
So fayre a sort in the worlde so wyde
May not be founde by no maner of reason
As I sawe there at the same season
The fyrste lady that dyd vs mete
Iclyped was dame perseueraunce
Whiche to me sayd with wordes swete
Blessyd be god of your good gouernaunce
That hath kept you from the incomberaunce
Of the serpent with the heedes thre
And caused you vyctor of hym to be
Than came dame fayth that lady gloryous
Welcome she sayd with wordes amyable
I am ryght glad ye ar so vyctoryous
Of that foule dragon so abhomynable
She sayd that I was euermore stable
In her in dede eke worde and thought
Or elles my labour had ben to nought
Than spake the lady fayre dame charyte
Welcome vertue the noble veteran
Sythens that ye alway haue loued me
From the fyrst season that ye began
Bothe in your youth & syth ye were man
Ye haue had me in humble reuerence
And haue ben ruled by my preemynence
Than sayd dame prayer in my presence
Ye neuer cast me in oblyuyaunce
By no slouth nor wordely neglygence
But haue had me in grete remembraunce
Whiche hath ben to me very grete pleasaunce
Wherfore welcome vertue my dere
Unto this castell that ye se here
Than came fast to me dame lowelynes
Clyppynge me harde with louely chere
Byddynge me welcome with grete gladnes
As by her contenaūce it dyd well appere
Come on she sayd and walke on nere
So than amonge these fayre ladyes all
I went in to the grete castell hall
And there met me dame clennes blyue
And dame grace bare vp her trayne
Whiche euer to her was affyrmatyue
From whome dame clennes myght not refrayne
Than sayd she to me I am ryght fayne
That ye ar comen in to this place
Where ye shall wedde me in short space
Upon my kne I kneled than downe
Saynge o sterre of the blysse eterne
O well of vertue and of grete renowne
O dyuyne comfort moost sempyterne
Whan I your beautye do so well decerne
Ye set myn hert vpon a brennynge fyre
With feruent loue to come to my desyre
To me she answered in this wyse.
O my dere herte my spouse so pure
Why do ye not on your fete aryse
You of my true loue shall be sure
For ye my hert haue now in cure
Lete vs go now to our fader reuerente
So forthe vnto hym than we wente
Whan that we came afore his fayre face
Dame clennes made curtesye vnto the grounde
Saynge o fader kynge of grete grace
This knyght to loue ye are now bounde
And so am I for I haue often founde
Grete kyndnes on hym both nyght and day
For he hath loued me ryght well alway
Welcome he sayd ryght noble knyght
How haue ye done sythens your departynge
Haue ye scomfyted with your myght
The merueylous dragon so gretly stynkynge
Ye I sayd with the power shynynge
Of my maystresse good dame sapyence
I dyd hym vaynquysshe by her experyence
Wher is dame Sapyence than sayd he
And eke her syster dame dyscrecyon
Syr I sayd they are comen with me
And they haue had me in iurisdyccyon
Syns my departynge without destruccyon
Than spake dame sapyence by her faculte
Unto that myghty lordes mageste
Saynge this knyght than cleped vertue
Hath loued your doughter by longe contynuaūce
With stable loue so faythfull and true
And for her sake hath put to vteraunce
The thre heeded dragon by wyse puruyaunce
Wherfore me thynke he ought to mary
Your doughter Clennes that noble lady
The kynge sayd me thynke the same
If that my doughter wyll agre
And she do not she moche is to blame
Consyderynge his wysedome & grete beaute
Come hyder he sayd my doughter fre
To be wyfe to vertue wyll ye consent
Ye fader she sayd with hole entent
Than he called vnto his presence
Perseueraunce charyte and fydelyte
With lowlynes prayer and intellygence
Shewynge vnto theym the certeynte
How clennes his doughter wedded shall be
Unto me now vertu in all godely hast
By fore that thre dayes be ryght fully past
He called me than to his magnyfycence
Byddynge me go to bed and to rest
In the chaumbre of clene conscyence
Than so to do I thought it the best
For phebus was tourned into the west
So sapyence and I went forthe to bed
For lake of rest oppressed was my hed
A lytyll welp within this chaumbre was
That lay wakynge and barked alway
That no man in to it sholde passe
That wolde with conscyence make a fray
I dyd slepe there tyll that it was day
Than vp I rose and made me redy
Callynge vnto me dame sapyence shortely
Saynge vnto her o lady and maystres
O comfortable salue vnto euery sore
O fontayne of welth and carbuncle of clernes
Without ye helpe me I am forlore
Wherfore I shewe you as now before
Without I mary fayre dame clennes
I shall endure in mortall heuynes
Therof sayd she be no thynge adred
For ye shall mary here ryght soone
By me your mater shall be well sped
And the same daye it shall be doone
Aboute the houre truely of noone
And there shall be at your good dyner
Charyte fayth penaunce and prayer
Dame sapyence led me into a gardeyn
Where Clennes was amonge floures swete
Her to repayre without dysdeyn
As I to her wente she dyd me mete
Bryngynge me a floure called the margarete
Whiche is a floure ryght swete and precyous
Indued with beaute and moche vertuous
This floure I kyst often ryght swetely
Settynge it nere vnto my hert
Dame Clennes loked vpon me louely
Saynge that I sholde not depert
Tyll she had shewed me a grete couert
So with her I wente without delay
Where byrdes sate on many a spray
By this tyme phebus had begon
His ascencyall cours in grete bryghtnes
In to the sygne of the fierous lyon
Exylynge the fenerous frosty coldnes
And depryuynge the noxyall derkenes
And also setherus his fragraunt breth
Dystylled had vpon euery heth
Than to her I sayd my lady dere
Beholde this weder so clere and fayre
How royall walkynge that it is here
Lyke a place of pleasure you to repayre
Amonge the floures so swete of ayre
An other she had as she me tolde
Bryghter than phebus a thousande folde
This is a place of recreacyon
My mynde to comfort after study
In welth pleasure and delectacyon
For yf I sholde my selfe applye
Euer to pray to god an hye
Without this place I may not be sure
An other tyme in prayer to endure
But the other gardyn is celestyall
That longeth to vs by enherytaunce
And is entayled to vs in generall
For our clene lyfe & vertuous gouernaūce
Who that vs loueth without doubtauūce
With vs shall go to eternall glory
In short space or elles to purgatory
Than forth we went to her fader royall
Whiche welcomed vs by grete humylyte
Saynge my doughter dere and specyall
Ye shall this daye by grete solempnyte
Be wedded to vertue with benygnyte
We kneled downe and thanked his grace
And than forth we went to an other place

Capitulum XIII.
In to a chapell gayly gloryfyed
And also hanged with cloth of tyssue
A place it was ryght gretly deyfyed
The roof was set with stones of vertue
As with rubyes and emeraudes bryght of hue
The rood loft was yuery garnysshed with gold
Set with dyamoundes ryght many a fold
Ther I dyd se the arke of god
With many sayntes that suffred martyrdom
And also I sawe there Moyses rod
And saynt Austyn that brought crystendom
Into englonde by his grete wysedom
And the xii. apostles that fast gan wryte
Of our byleue and eke dyd endyte
There was saynt peter the noble pope
That dyd stande on the ryght syde
Of the hyghe auter in a ryche cope
Dame clennes and I dyd there abyde
And vp there came than at that tyde
Dame prayer with her syster charyte
And eke dame penytence with humylyte
Than came dame fayth anone to vs
With ryghtwysenes peas and dame mercy
With dame contrycyon gay and gloryous
Whiche after theym dyd not longe tary
And than came bede and eke saynt gregory
With saynt ambrose the noble doctour
Whiche of our fayth was good protectour
Than came the kynge of feruent loue
Led with argos in goodely wyse
Without whome he myght not remoue
From his sete by ryght prudent gyse
Who loueth argos wyll not deuyse
Nor yet begynne no maner of thynge
Without in his mynde hese good endynge
Also saynt Ierome the noble cardynall
Came vp to vs by humble reuerence
Whiche euermore was a good doctrynall
Prechynge to vs by vertuous influence
With exhortacyon of dyuyne complacence
And than foure bysshoppes in grete dygnyte
Ryght connynge cernynge vnto the deyte
On hym wayted by grete dylygence
And neuer dyd forsake his company
But hym obeyed by good experyence
And from his cōmaundement dyd not vary
But in the chapell they dyd there tary
And than saynt Ierome wente to the kynge
Of feruent loue vnto hym saynge
O amyable kynge seasour of debate
O ioyner of vertue and well of vnyte
O royall emperour o souerayne estate
O messenger of feruent amyte
O feruent dart of cordyall pryuyte
Here is your doughter fayre dame clennes
That must be maryed with good ryghtwysenes
Unto vertue the louely knyght
Whiche the batayle now hath won
By dame sapyence helpe and myght
Of the foule thre heeded dragon
This maryage by me shall be don
Go ye now streyght into your tabernacle
Whiche is to you moost propre habytacle
Than the souerayne kynge to hym dyd call
Dame fayth dyscrecyon and dame sapyence
With dame contrycyon & charyte withall
And eke dame mercy and dame penytence
Unto theym saynge ye haue intellygence
That this daye clennes my doughter dere
Shall be maryed to vertue that ye se here
Than they dyde all come vnto me
With dame peas and dame grace
And after theym came dame virgynyte
Whiche in her armes dyd me enbrace
Saynge that I was to her grete solace
Gyuynge me vnto my good maryage
A gowne of syluer for grete aparage
She gafe an other of the same
Unto dame clennes puttynge it one
Upon her back withouten blame
After whiche Clennes wente anone
Unto her fader her selfe alone
And I with saynt Ierome dyd there tary
To wed dame Clennes that noble lady
And all the ladyes with meke contenence
Stode on a rewe besyde the closette
Of Clennes fader without resystence
Whiche hanged was gayly with blue veluet
And with perles & rubyes rychely set
Than forth came Clennes with two aūgels led
Whiche theyr golden wynges abrode dyd spred
Dame grace after her bare vp her trayn
And .xv. ladyes her dyd ensue
Fyrst went dame humylyte certayn
And after her than dyd pursue
Dame fayth in stablenes so true
Ledynge with her the fayre dame pease
That welth and ryches doth well encrease
Than went dame reason with perseueraūce
And than dame mercy with contricyon
And than exersyce with remembraunce
After whome went dame restytucyon
With dame prayer and dame confessyon
And dame charyte with obedyence
And after theym came fayre dame abstynence
Saynt Ierome dyd make there coniunccyon
Of dame Clennes and me in matrimonye
With heuenly wordes and vertuous fastyon
And aungels came downe from heuen hye
As saynt Mychell with gabryell & the gerachye
To helpe saynt peter the masse to synge
The organs went and the bellys dyd rynge
My penne for feblenes may not now wryte
Nor my tonge for domnes may not expresse
Nor my mynde for neglygence may not endyte
Of the aungelycall Ioye and swete gladnesse
That I sawe there without heuynesse
And whan this weddynge holy was fynysshed
The aungels than to heuen vanysshed
Than downe I went in to the hall
Where ordeyned was by grete solempnyte
A dyner of vertue moost celestyall
To whiche came my wyf full of benygnyte
On the one syde led by good auctoryte
With saynt Edmond the noble kynge
And martyr whiche dyd her downe brynge
And she was led on the other syde
With saynt Edward the kynge and confessour
And so bytwene theym wente this bryde
To whom all the ladyes made grete honour
As alway seruynge her without errour
And a lytell whyle anone after her
Ergos brought downe her noble fader
The kynge of loue than sat hym downe
At the table for that tyme to ette
Causynge dame Clennes for her renowne
On his one syde than for to be sette
And I on the other without ony lette
And besyde me sapyence and dyscrecyon
And than by theym sat dame contrycyon
Than sate saynt Edwarde with vyrgynyte
And afore hym sate dame obedyence
Saynt Edmond and dame charyte
And than dame prayer with dame abstynence
And than dame fayth shynynge in excellence
With saynt Ierome and saynt Austeyn
And than saynt gregory without dysdeyn
There was two aungels holdynge fast
The table cloth at euery ende
Knelynge downe humbly and stedfast
Whose seruyce no man coude amende
Other there were that dyd entende
Us for to serue with theyr grete dylygence
That in theym founde coude be no neglygence
There dyd saynt Peter by grete holynes
Serue vs of our swete lordes body
Fyrst he serued the fader of clennes
And after that he serued her shortly
With charyte fayth and dame mercy
And I with dyscrecyon and dame sapyence
Of saynt Peter was serued with grete indulgence
So dame obedyence with contrycyon
With saynt Edwarde and virgynyte
In lykewyse were serued without corrupcyon
And saynt Edmond with dame charyte
And saynt Ierome with dame humylyte
With saynt austyn and saynt gregory
What nede I lenger of theym specyfy
This was a fest moost swete and precyous
To fede the soule with dyuyne comfort
This was a mete moost dere and gloryous
That causeth all man for to resorte
To sempyternall lyfe and comforte
Than saynt ambrose beynge dyuyne
After our mete gafe vs good wyne
By this tyme was I .lx. yere olde
And desyred for to lyue in peace
For I began to growe two folde
And my feblenes dyde sore encreace
For nature her strength than dyd seace
Wherfore after this ghoostly fest
I thought with my wyfe to abyde in rest
And I to her sayd with louynge chere
O my swete spouse moost fayre and beauteous
To me euer ryght leyfe and dere
Where is your lande that is solacyous
Ye shewyd me of your gardeyn gloryous
Unto whiche now fayne wolde I go
There for to dwell and you also
Syr she sayd the aungell raphaell
Shall with these martyrs & noble confessours
Brynge you thyder with theym to dwell
Where ye shall see all your progenytours
With many sayntes and gloryous auctours
This lande is heuen that to vs longeth
As our euydence the gospell telleth
Than came my fader in lawe to vs
Saynge by ryght I dyd combynd
Clennes my doughter with vertue precyous
And you must I loue by naturell kynde
For on you now is all my mynde
Afore hym I kyst my wyfe moost swetely
For we loued to gyder hote and truely
Than came my good aungell to me
Causynge me with hym for to go
With clennes my wyfe wher I dyd se
The paynes of hell full of grete wo
There was the dragon that I dyd slo
Bounde with chaynes in fyer infynall
With the seuen dedely synnes in generall
Than my good aungell to me sayd
If ye had loued dame sensualyte
The whiche with you dyd make a brayde
Ye had ben dampned by ryght and equyte
In to this pytte full of all iniquyte
Wherfore thanke god that sent you wysedome
Suche deedly perylles for to ouercome
Also the lady with the cup of golde
Is here condempned for her grete pryde
In endeles payne both hote and colde
Where in for synne she shall abyde
This is a dongeon longe and wyde
Made for theym that do synne dedely
And of cryst Ihesu wyll axe no mercy
This is a place full of all derkenes
Wherin be serpentes foull and odyous
This is a place of mortall heuynes
Where I sawe deuyles blacke and tedyous
Dampned soules turmented with hokes rygorous
This is the vppermoost parte of hell
In whiche paynyms dampned do dwell
For as moche as they lacked instruccyon
For to be leue in god omnypotent
They haue deserued the lesse correccyon
Yet theyr payne haue none extinguysshement
For they are dampned by true sentyment
For theyr byleue and fals idolatry
That made theyr goddes of mars & mercury
Than went we doune to an other vaute
Where Iewes lay in grete paynes stronge
Whome deuylles tourmented by grete assaute
Drawynge theym with hokes a longe
For theyr opynyon so fals and wronge
Whiche byleued not in the natyuyte
Of Ihesu cryst and the vyrgyn Mare
Nor yet that he dyd suffre passyon
Bothe for theym and all mankynde
Nother yet of his resurreccyon
In theyr byleue they are so blynde
Yet as in bokes wryten we do fynde
That they haue ben taught many a tyme
For to forsake theyr owne fals cryme
Than went we downe to a depper vale
Where crysten soules dyd weppe & crye
In grete sorowe payne and bale
Brennynge in fyer moost hote and drye
And some in Ice ryght depe dyd lye
For to expresse it is impossyble
The paynes there they are so horryble
These crysten men knowe goddes lawe
And euery daye had informacyon
From deuelysshe werkes theym to withdrawe
That they sholde not fall in dampnacyon
Yet wyll they not make sequestracyon
Of goddes cōmaundement but syn deedly
Therfore here are they dampned ryght wysey
And thou haddest set thy delectacyon
In flesshely pleasure and vayne glory
Thou haddest ben here without saluacyon
Without thou of god had axed mercy
Who that it axeth shall haue it truely
Yf he be contryt and do repent
That he his lyfe in yll hath spent
This place sythens it is moost heuy
Moost derke and moost ferre from lyghtnes
As philosophers afferme by astronomy
Is in the myddes of the erthe doutles
That is a place of dyssolate derkenes
Wherfore by reason it must nedes be sette
In the myddes of the erthe both longe & grette.

Capitulum XIIII.

My good aungell by his grete vertue
Shewed me all this in a shorte space
And after hym I dyd than pursue
With my wyfe vnto the fayre place
That we came fro full of all solace
Where was my fader in the company
Of many sayntes that dyd there tary
My wyfe and me than for to brynge
To the place of eternall glory
With heuenly tewnes swetely syngynge
That theym to here it was grete melody
More than ony tonge can specyfy
This was theyr songe so swete and gloryous
That they dyd synge with voyce so vertuous
O celestyall kynge one two and thre
All people prayse the god and lorde
Whiche art in heuen o noble trynyte
Whose royall power and miserycorde
Confermed is by thyn hye accorde
On vs with trouth for to endure
Withouten ende as we are sure
Glory be to the fader almyghty
And to the sone and to the holy ghoost
Thre persones and one god truely
Whose power neuer can be loost
For he is lorde of myghtes moost
And so hath ben without begynnynge
And euer shall be without endynge
Whan we were in the ayre of asure
There dyd vs mete the noble Ierarchy
As Cherubyn and Seraphyn so pure
With other aungels in theyr company
That dyd proclayme & synge on hye
With voyce insacyat moost melodyous
To god aboue Sanctus sanctus sanctus
There dyd I se the planettes seuen
Moue in ordre by alteracyon
To merueylous for me to neuen
For they seassed not theyr operacyon
Some assended some made declynacyon
Entrynge theyr houses of the .xii. synes
Some indyrectly and some by dyrecte lynes
To heuen we styed a place moost gloryous
Where that we dyd beholde the deyte
With insaciable contenaunce moost desyrous
And truely than the more that we
Dyd loke vpon his souerayne beaute
The more our desyre dyd encreace
This is a Ioye that shall not seace
This is a regyon moost full of swetnes
This is a realme of delectacyon
This is a lande of infenyte gladnes
Without ony stormy tribulacyon
This place is of eterne saluacyon
Where aungels and sayntes for theyr solace
Euermore do loke on goddes face
What sholde I wryte thynges of dyuynyte
Or endyght of suche maters hye
Sythen it no thynge longeth to my faculte
Therfore of it I wyll not lenger tarye
For fere that I in it sholde varye
And by cause that trouth shall be my mede
I wyll now leue and take me to my crede
So vertue and clennes by good ryght
Truely in maryage ioyned must be
For they loue to gyder with all theyr myght
Without dyscencyon or duplycyte
And they both are alway in vnyte
To whome heuen by tayll generall
Entayled is by a dede memoryall
Now are they to gyder to heuen gone
There for to dwell in Ioye eternall
Where that there is the heuenly trone
Of our sauyour Ihesu deere & specyall
Who that hym loueth truely ouer all
Ledynge his lyfe with vertue and clennes
Shall come vnto the glory endeles
But in the fynysshynge of my mater
To god the maker of all thynge
Deuoutely now I make my prayer
To saufe kynge Henry our ryghtfull kynge
From all treason and dolefull mornynge
And for to maynteyn the grete honour
Of this swete rede rose so fayre a colour
This floure was kepte ryght longe in close
Amonge the leuys holsom and sote
And regally sprange and arose
Out of the noble stoke and rote
Of the rede rose tre to be our bote
After our bale sente by grete grace
On vs to reygne by ryght longe space
O lorde god what Ioye was this
Unto his moder so good and gracyous
Whan that she sawe her sone I wys
Of his ennemys to be so vyctoryous
It caused her to be moost Ioyous
And yet there of no wonder why
For he was ryght longe from her truely
A ioyfull metynge than bytwene
The moder and the sone so dere
A daye of gladnes bryght and shene
Fressher than phebus myddaye spere
Whan her sone to vs dyd appere
He dyd vs lyght with his pure bemys
Quenchynge of mars the fyrous lemys
O heuenly kynge o eternall emperoure
O thre persons and one god equall
I praye the to kepe from all doloure
This moder with her sone in specyall
With all theyr noble buddes in generall
And laude be to the that dyd enhaunce
Hym to his ryght and propre herytaunce
The whyte rose that w&supert; tempestes troublous
Aualed was and eke blowen asyde
The reed rose fortyfyed and made delycyous
It pleased god for hym so to prouyde
That his redolent buddes shall not slyde
But euer encrease and be vyctoryous
Of fatall brerys whiche be contraryous
Thus god by grace dyd well combyne
The rede rose and the whyte in maryage
Beynge oned ryght clere doth shyne
In all clennes and vertuous courage
Of whose ryght and royall lynage
Prynce Henry is spronge our kynge to be
After his fader by ryght good equyte
O noble prynce Henry our seconde treasure
Surmontynge in vertue & myrour of beaute
O geme of gentylnes & lanterne of plasure
O rubycound blossome and sterre of humylyte
O famous bud full of benygnyte
I pray to god well for to encrease
Your hyghe estate in rest and pease
O thoughfull hert for lack of connynge
Now layde to slepe this longe wynters nyght
Ryse vp agayne loke on the shynynge
Of fayre lucyna clere and bryght
Beholde eke mercury with his fayre lyght
Castynge a doune his stremys mery
It may well glad thyn emyspery
O gower fountayne moost aromatyke
I the now lake for to depure
My rudnes with thy lusty retoryke
And also I mys as I am sure
My mayster Chaucers to take the cure
Of my penne for he was expert
In eloquent termes subtyll and couert
Where is now lydgate flourynge in sentence
That shold my mynde forge to endyte
After the termes of famous eloquence
And strength my penne well for to wryte
With maters fresshe of pure delyte
They can not helpe me there is no remedy
But for to praye to god almyghty
For to dystyll the dewe of influence
Upon my brayn so dull and rude
And to enlumyn me with his sapyence
That I my rudnes may exclude
And in my mater well to conclude
Unto thy pleasure and to the reders all
To whome I excuse me now in generall.

Explicit exemplum virtutis.

poem by Stephen Hawes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Example of Vertu : Cantos I.-VII.

Here begynneth the boke called the example of vertu.

The prologe.

Whan I aduert in my remembraunce
The famous draughtes of poetes eloquent
Whiche theyr myndes dyd well enhaunce
Bokes to contryue that were expedyent
To be remembred without Impedyment
For the profyte of humanyte
This was the custume of antyquyte.
I now symple and moost rude
And naked in depured eloquence
For dulnes rethoryke doth exclude
Wherfore in makynge I lake intellygence
Also consyderynge my grete neglygence
It fereth me sore for to endyte
But at auenture I wyll now wryte.
As very blynde in the poetys art
For I therof can no thynge skyll
Wherfore I lay it all a part
But somwhat accordynge to my wyll
I wyll now wryte for to fulfyll
Saynt Powles wordes and true sentement
All that is wryten is to oure document
O prudent Gower in langage pure
Without corrupcyon moost facundyous
O noble Chauser euer moost sure
Of frutfull sentence ryght delycyous
O vertuous Lydgat moche sentencyous
Unto you all I do me excuse
Though I your connynge do now vse
Explicit prologus.

Capitulum Primsi.
In Septembre in fallynge of the lefe
Whan phebus made his declynacyon
And all the whete gadred was in the shefe
By radyaunt hete and operacyon
Whan the vyrgyn had full domynacyon
And Dyane entred was one degre
Into the sygne of Gemyne
Whan the golden sterres clere were splendent
In the firmament puryfyed clere as crystall
By imperyall course without incombrement
As Iuppyter and Mars that be celestyall
With Saturne and Mercury that wer supernall
Myxt with venus that was not retrograte
That caused me to be well fortunate
In a slombrynge slepe with slouth opprest
As I in my naked bedde was leyd
Thynkynge all nyght to take my rest
Morpleus to me than made abreyd
And in my dreme me thought he sayd
Come walke with me in a medowe amerous
Depeynted with floures that be delycyous
I walked with hym into a place
Where that there grue many a fayre floure
With Ioye replete and full of solace
And the trees dystyllynge redolent lycoure
More sweter fer than the Aprell shour
And tary I dyd there by longe space
Tyll that I saw before my face
A ryght fayre lady of myddell stature
And also enduyd with grete vertue
Her apparell was set with perlys pure
Whose beaute alway dyd renue
To me she sayd and ye wyll extue
All wyldnes I wyll be your guyde
That ye to fraylte shall not slyde.
Unto her I answerde o lady gloryous
I pray you tell me what is your name
For ye seeme to be ryght precyous
And I am yonge and sore to blame
Of vyces full and in vertue lame
But I wyll be ruled now by your pleasure
So that your order be made by mesure
Eclepyd I am she sayd dyscrecyon
And yf ye wyll be ruled by me
Ye shall haue Ioye without reprehencyon
And neuer fall in to fragylyte
Youth lackynge me it is grete pyte
For in what place I am exyled
They be with synne ryght oft defyled
It longeth euer vnto my properte
Youth to gyue courage for to lerne
I wyll not medle with no duplycyte
But faythfulnes I wyll dyscerne
And brynge thy soule to blesse eterne
By wyse example and morall doctryne
For youth hauynge to me is a good syne
Forsake also all euyll company
And be founde true in worde and dede
Remembre that this worlde is transytory
After thy desert shall be thy mede
Loue god alway and eke hym drede
And for no mannes pleasure be thyn owne foo
Gyue theym fayre wordes and lete theym goo.
Be to thy kynge euer true subgete
As thou sholdest be by ryght and reason
Lete thy herte lowely on hym be sete
Without ony spot of euyll treason
And be obedyent at euery season
Unto his grace without rebellyon
That thou with trouth may be companyon
Loue neuer vnloued for that is payne
Whyle that thou lyuest of that beware
Loue as thou seest the loued agayne
Or elles it wyll torne the to care
Be neuer taken in that fast snare
Proue or thou loue that is moost sure
And than thou in doubte shalt not endure.
Beware byleue no flaterynge tonge
For flaterers be moost disseyuable
Though that they company with the longe
Yet at the ende they wyll be varyable
For they by reason are not fauorable
But euermore fals and double
And with theyr tonges cause of grete trouble
This brytell worlde ay full of bytternes
Alway turnynge lyke to a ball
No man in it can haue no sykernes
For whan he clymmeth he hath a fall
O wauerynge shadowe bytter as gall
O fatall welth full soone at ende
Though thou ryght hy do oft assende
Whan she to me had made relacyon
Of all these prouerbes by good conclusyon
She gaue to me an Informacyon
For to depryue all yll abusyon
And to consydre the grete derysyon
Whiche is in youth that may not se
No thynge appropred to his prosperyte
Forth than we went to an hauen syde
Wher was a shyp lyenge at rode
Taryenge after the wynde and tyde
And with moche spyces ryght well lode
Upon it lokynge we longe abode
Tyll colus with blastes began to rore
Than we her aborded with payne ryght sore
This water eclyped was vayneglory
Euer with yeopardy and tempestyous
And the shyp called was ryght truly
The vessell of the passage daungerous
The wawys were hyghe and gretly troublous
The captayn called was good comfort
And the sterysman fayre pasport.

Capitulum II.

Longe were we dryuen with wynde & weder
Tyll we arryued in a fayre Ilonde
Wher was a boote tyed with a teeder
Of merueylous wood as I vnderstonde
Precyous stones ley vpon the sond
And poynted dyamondes grewe on the rockes
And corall also by ryght hyghe stockes
Amased I was for to beholde
The precyous stones vnder my fete
And the erth glysterynge of golde
With floures fayre of odour swete
Dame dyscrecyon I dyd than grete
Praynge her to me to make relacyon
Who of this Ilonde hath domynacyon
She sayd foure ladyes in vertue excellent
Of whiche the eldest is dame nature
That dayly fourmeth after her entent
Euery beest and lyuynge creature
Both foule and fayre and also pure
All that dependynge in her ordynaunce
Where that she fauoureth there is grete pleasaunce
The seconde is called dame fortune
Ayenst whome can be no resystence
For she doth sette the strynges in tune
Of euery persone by her magnyfycence
Whan they sound best by good experyence
She wyll theym loose and let theym slyp
Causynge theym fall by her turnynge tryp
The thyrde called is dame hardynes
That often rulyth by her cheualry
She is ryght stowt and of grete prowes
And the captayn of a lusty company
And ruleth theym euer full hardely
And to gete honour and worldely tresure
She putteth her oft in auenture
The fourth is wysedome a lady bryght
Whiche is my syster as ye shall se
Whom I do loue with all my myght
For she enclyneth euer to benygnyte
And medeleth not with fraude nor subtylyte
But maketh many noble clerkes
And ruleth theym in all theyr werkes
They dwell all in a fayre castell
Besyde a ryuer moche depe and clere
And be expert in feytys manuell
That vnto theym can be no peere
Of erthely persone that lyueth here
For they be so fayre and wounderous
That theym to se it is solacyous.
Longe haue they trauerst gretly in the lawe
Whiche of theym sholde haue the preemynence
And none of them theyr case wyll withdrawe
Tyll of dame Iustyce they knowe the sentence
They argue often and make defence
Eche vnto other withouten remedy
I wyll no lenger of them specefy.

Capitulum Tercium.

Come on fayre youth and go with me
Unto that place that is delectable
Bylded with towres of curyosyte
And yet though that ye be lamentable
Whan thou art there you wylt be confortable
To se the merueyles that there be wrought
No man can prynt it in his thought
A path we founde ryght gretely vsed
Where in we went tyll at the last
A castell I sawe wherof I mused
Not fully from me a stones cast
To se the towres I was agast
Set in a valey so strongely fortefyed
So gentyll compassed and well edefyed
The towres were hyghe of adamond stones
With fanes wauerynge in the wynde
Of ryght fyne golde made for the noonys
And roobuckes ran vnder the lynde
And hunters came theym fer behynde
A Ioye it was suche sawe I neuer
Abyde quod she ye shall se a better.
Forth she me ledde to the castell warde
Where we were let in by humylyte
And so after she lede me forwarde
Tyll that I sawe a royall tre
With buddys blossomed of grete beaute
And than we wente in to the hall
That glased was truely with crystall
And hanged was with clothes of Aras
Made of fyne golde with a noble story
How that there some tyme reynynge was
In the regyon of hyghe Italy
A valyaunt emperour and a myghty
That had to name forsothe Tyberius
Whiche dyde enquere of prudent Iosethus
Why he his offycers so longe kepte
Unto hym he answered a good cause why
Somtyme I sawe a man that slepte
That wounded was full pyteously
And on his woundes suckynge many a fly
I than for pyte moued theym away
By whiche he woke and to me dyde say
Wher that thou trowed to me comfort
Thou now hast done me double greuaunce
Puttynge away the flyes that dyde resorte
To me beynge full of blody sustynaunce
By this thou mayst haue good perseueraunce
That now wyll come the flyes moost hungry
That wyll me byte .x. tymes more greuously
The roof was wrought by merueylous gemetry
Colered with asure gold and gowlys
With knottes coruen full ryght craftely
And set also with wanton fowlys
As popyn iays/pyes/Iays/and owlys
And as I loked on my ryght syde
A lady I sawe of meruellous pryde
Syttynge in a chayer at the vpper ende
Of all the hall as a lady and prynces
Amonge many kynges that dyde entende
To be obedyent to her hyghe noblenes
Her apparell was made of moche fayre ryches
Set with rubyes moost pure and rubicound
Embrawded with perles and many a dyamound

Besydes her sate the worthyes nyne
And she amonge theym a whele turnynge
Full lowe to her they dyd than enclyne
She somtyme laughynge and somtyme lowrynge
Her condycyon was to be dyssymelynge
And many exalten vpon her whele
Gyuynge theym grete falles that they dyd fele
Than sayd dyscrecyon beholde and see
That in dame fortune is no stablenes
This worlde also is but a vanyte
A dreme a pompe nothynge in stedfastnes
For fortune is fals and full of doblenes
Whan she moost flatereth she is not sure
As thou mayst se dayly in vre.

Capitulum IIII.

Forth than we went vnto the habytacle
Of dame hardynes moost pure and fayre
Aboue all places a ryght fayre spectacle
Strowyd with floures that gaue good eyer
Of vertuous turkeys there was a cheyr
Wherin she sate in her cote armure
Berynge a shelde the felde of asure
Wherin was sette a rampynge lyon
Of fyne golde ryght large and grete
A swerd she had of merueylous fassyon
As though a thousand she sholde bete
No man the vyctory of her myght gete
A noble vyrgyn there dyde her serue
That fyrst made harnes called Mynerue
The chaumbre where she held her consystory
The dewe aromatyke dyde oft degoute
Of fragraunt floures full of delycasy
That all yll heyres dyde ensence oute
A carbuncle there was that all aboute
Enlumyned the chaumbre both day and nyght
My thought it was an heuenly syght
Nyne quenes I sawe that satte her by
Beynge all armed of grete fortytude
In many a stower they wanne the vyctory
And were endued with facounde pulcrytude
For to haunte armes was theyr consuetude
Many a regyon they often wanne
And also vaynquysshed many a noble man
Nexte vnto her sate the hyghe quene Azia
That was a conqueres so puyssaunt
And besyde her the quene of Saba
Whiche in grete ryches was tryumphaunt
And also Ipolyte in armes valyaunt
Sate with her besyde quene Hecuba
And yet also the quene Europa
Present ther was the wiche quene Iuno
And quene Pantasyll wyth fayre quene Elyn
And yet I sawe by her than also
The noble vyrgyn yonge Polyxyn
That was destroyed at the last ruyn
Of Troye the grete by cruelll Pyrrus
The sone of Achylles that was so cheualrus
As I dyd loke I had commaundement
Of dame dyscrecyon for to remembre
These noble ladyes so pure and excellent
Hardy in corage of age ryght tendre
Yet not withstandynge deth dyde surrendre
And all theyr strength and lusty corage
For he spareth nother youth ne age.

Capitulum V.

Forth we walked to the dwellynge place
Of dame sapyence so full of blys
Replete with Ioye vertu and grace
No thynge there lacked that possyble is
Man for to comfort withouten mys
Though he were derke in wordely foly
He sholde there b enlumyned shortely
Her towre was made of werkes curyous
I can no thynge extende the goodlynes
Of her palays so good and gloryous
Bylded in the place soth of fastnes
With owten tast of wordely bytternes
No persone can extoll the souerente
Of her worthy and royall dygnyte
She eche estate sholde haue in gouernaunce
As theym to rule or that they repent
For better it is to haue good puruyaunce
At the begynnynge as is expedyent
Than for to wyssh for thynges myspent
That myght be saued longe afore
And with a for wytte kepte in store
Her chaumbre was glased with byrall clarefyed
Depeynted with colours of delectacyon
A place of pleasure so heuenly gloryfyed
In vertue heale lyfe and saluacyon
Without ony stormy trybulacyon
That myght anoy the heuenly helth
But alway comfort to the sowlys welth
There sate dame prudence in vertue magnyfyed
Impossyble it is to shewe her goodelyhed
She was so fayre and clerely puryfyed
And so dyscrete and full of womanhede
That and I trowe vertue were deed
It sholde reuyue yet in her agayne
She was so gentyll and without dysdeyn
It was grete comfort vnto my hert
For to beholde that heuenly syght
Dyscrecyon sayd I sholde not depert
Tyll I had spoken with her syster bryght
Forth she me ledde with all her myght
Unto that prynces and royall souerayn
Ergo my labour was not in vayn
Than spake dame prudence with meke contenaūce
Welcome dyscrecyon my syster dere
Where haue ye ben by longe contynuaunce
Wyth youth she sayd that ye se here
And for my sake I you requere
Hym to receyue in to your seruyse
And he shall serue you in goodely wyse
Welcome she sayd for my systers sake
And yet also now for your owne
In to my seruyce I wyll you take
Sythens that your wyldnes is ouerblowen
The sede of vertu on you shall be sowen
Uyce to depryue by his good auctoryte
As for to subdue all yll iniquyte
Of other mennes wordes be thou not bolde
And of theyr promys make no behest
And yf thou here an yll tale tolde
Gyue no iugement but say the best
So shall thou lyue euermore in rest
Who lytell medeleth is best at ease
For well were he that all myght please
Beware kepe the from grete offence
That thou condempned be not by ryghtwysnes
Whan she doth gyue her mortall sentence
Without pease or mercy cause her reles
Her iugement of mortall heuynes
That the best frende to the wyll be
The for to socour in grete necessyte
But yet in theym haue none affyaunce
As fyrst to synne thynkynge that they
At the ende to the wyll be delyueraunce
Nay ryghtwysnes wyll dryue theym away
For of all synnes without delay
Suche synne in hope it is the moost
For it is the synne of the holy ghoost
Now I amytte you into your rome
In the whiche ye shall your selfe apply
Of myn owne chaumbre ye shall be grome
Loke ye be dylygent and do not vary
From my cōmaundementes neuer specyally
For and ye wyll theym well obserue
A moche better rome ye do deserue
The fyrst cōmaundement that I gyue the
Thynke on the ende or thou begynne
For thou by ryght may knowe the certente
That deth is fyne of euery synne
Be neuer taken in dyabolycall engyne
But that repentaunce may loose the sone
Of that grete synne that thou hast done
Trust not to moche in fortunes grace
Though that she laugh on the a whyle
For she can sodenly turne her face
Whan that she lyst the to begyle
She welth and Ioye can sone defyle
And plonge the in the pyte of pouerte
Wherfore in her haue thou no suertye
Presume no ferther than the behoueth
For it wyll turne the to grete shame
For who that from his rome remoueth
He is often full gretely to blame
And medeleth with other in theym lame
As no thynge connynge nor expert
They may hym say syr malapert
Or that thou speke call to remembraunce
Unto what mater thy worde shall sygnyfye
Loke that it torne no man to greuaunce
Though that it be spoken merely
Yet many a one wyll take it greuously
Whiche that myght cause wroth and debate
Whyle that thou lyues beware of that
For a thynge lost without recouer
Loke that thou neuer be to pensyfe
Thanke god of it thynke to haue an other
Lete wysedome than be to the comfortyfe
That to thy brayn is best preseruatyfe
For euermore ryght wyse is he
That can be pacyent in aduersyte
Proue thy frende in a mater fayned
Or thou haue nede than shalt thou se
Whyther he be iustly with the reteyned
The for to socour in thy necessyte
By profe thou mayst knowe the veryte
For profe afore that nede requere
Defeteth dowte euer in fere
Be thou neuer so blynde in wylle
Yet loke thou be refourmed by reason
Than shalt thou my mynde fulfyll
And thou therto thy selfe abandon
Stryue not with reason for none encheson
For wher she lacketh ther is grete outrage
And without her may not aswage
Eschew also the synne of pryde
The moder and the feruent rote
Of all the synnes at euery tyde
Wherfore trede thou her vnder fote
With helpe of vertue so swete and sote
Whiche is best salue to hele thy sore
And to thy helth the to restore
Wo worth synne without repentaunce
Wo worth bondage without reles
Wo worth man without good gouernaunce
Wo worth infynall payne and dystresse
Wo worth vyce put fer in presse
Wo worth soueraynte hauynge dysdeyn
And wo worth pyte that doth refrayn
Wo worth ryght that may not be herd
Wo worth frendshyp without stabylyte
Wo worth true sentence that is deferd
Wo worth the man full of duplycyte
Wo worth hym without benygnyte
Wo worth lybertye withouten pease
And wo worth crueltye that may not cease
Wo worth connynge that is abused
Wo worth promys withouten payment
Wo worth vertue that is refused
Wo worth trouble without extynguysment
Wo worth foly on message sent
Wo worth reason that is exyled
And wo worth trouth that is defyled
Wo worth the trust without assuraunce
Wo worth grace not sette by
Wo worth Iustyce kepte in dystaunce
Wo worth welth replete with enuy
Wo worth the batayll without vyctory
Wo worth begynnynge without good ende
And wo worth wronge that doth defende
These commaundementes I put in memory
Theym for to kepe doynge my dylygence
With dame Sapyence I dyd longe tary
Whiche dyd me teche with partynge influence
Of her delycate and doulcete complacence
Than spake dyscrecyon anone to me
In the presens of her systers mageste
Thou art beholdynge to my syster reuerent
That the reteyned hath vnto her seruaunt
Wherfore be thou to her obedyent
And at euery houre to her attendaunt
And ryotous company do thou not haunt
For that wyll payre and yll thy name
Wherfore of vertuous myrth let be thy game.

Capitulum VI.
Discrecyon ferther forth me lede
Unto the solempne and royall mancyon
Of dame nature in humayne stede
Ryght pleasaunt was her habytacyon
Of merueylous werke and sytuacyon
And she her selfe helde her estate
In a gloryous chaumbre without chekmate
Her towre was gylted full of sonne bemys
And within hanged with cloth of aras
The roof was paynted with golden stremys
And lyke crystall depured was
Euery wyndowe aboute of glas
Where that she sat as a fayre goddes
All thynges creatynge by her besynes
Me thought she was of merueylous beaute
Tyll that Dyscrecyon lede me behynde
Where that I sawe all the pryuyte
Of her werke and humayne kynde
And at her backe I dyd than fynde
Of cruell deth a dolfull ymage
That all her beaute dyd perswage
Full wonderous was her operacyon
In euery kynde eke and ryght degre
Withouten rest or recreacyon
I wyll not medle with her secrete
For it no thynge longeth to my faculte
But somwhat after I wyll expres
Of her grete power and worthynes
But in my boke well for to procede
Dame dyscrecyon ferther me brought
Into a fayre chambre as ye may rede
Of fyne gemetry ryght well wrought
To comfort man there lacked nought
But that me thought there was no company
Saue onely dame dyscrecyon and I
We had ben but a lytell whyle there
But that we sawe a lady clere
Ryght well appareled in sad gere
Mylde in her hauour dyscrete of chere
That came vs by and very nere
Ascendynge vp in to her hyghe sete
Garnysshed with perle and with gold bete
Than sayd dyscrecyon this is dame Iustyce
Clene of conscyence without corrupcyon
And neuer be spotted with the synne of couetyse
But true as stele in the entencyon
Of ryght euermore without destruccyon
Geuynge alway a ryghtfull iugement
Obey thou youth this lady reuerent
A iuge fulfylled with the synne of auaryce
Or with fauour of kynne made blynd
Must nedys do wronge by grete ⪯iudyce
For fauour shold not conscyence bynd
Ryght to dyssymyll as I now fynd
In problemys wryten of antiquyte
Made by phylosophers of auctoryte
As we stode talkynge thus to gydere
Up came dame fortune so gayly gloryfyed
Impossyble it is for me to dyscouere
How gorges she was & gretly magnyfyed
Full lyke a goddes that had ben deyfyd
Clothed with gold sette full of rubyes
And tynst w&supert; emeraudys & many a turkes
And next to her there dyd ensue
Dame Hardynes that noble lady
After whome anone dyd pursue
Dame Sapyence whiche dyd not tary
Than came dame nature appareled royally
And all the other cladde in gold
Set with dyamondes many a fold
They lowted all vnto the ground
Afore dame Iustyce for obeysaunce
That sate there both hole and sound
Withouten ony dyscontynuaunce
Gyuynge god ere vnto the vteraunce
Of these foure ladyes pledynge at barre
With all theyr cases dyd well avarre.
Capitulm VII.

Fyrst dame hardynes began to plede
Saynge she was to man moost profytable
For she the hertes hath often fede
Of conquerous as it was couenable
And by my corage haue made theym able
Regyons to wynne theyr ennemyes to subdue
And yf I were not they had it rue
And yf a man be neuer so wyse
Withouten me he getyth none vteraunce
Wherfore his wysedome may not suffyse
All onely without myn allegeaunce
For I by ryght must nedys enhauncce
A lowe born man to an hyghe degre
Yf that he wyll be ruled by me
Haue I not caused many a noble warreour
To wynne the batell by my grete myght
Without me was made neuer conquerour
Nor yet man coragious whan he dyd fyght
No man without me may defende his ryght
I may be worst from hym forborne
For and I were not he were forlorne
Dyd I not cause the noble hercules
By my power to wynne the vyctory
Of the sturdy and stronge Philotes
As is recorded in bokes of memory
For without me can be no cheualry
And vnder the wynge of my proteccyon
All rebels brought be to subieccyon
A realme is vpholden by thynges thre
The fyrst and the chyef it is the swerd
Whiche causeth it to be in good suerte
And other realmes of it to be aferd
By whiche the vsurpers be dyfferd
From theyr wyll with treason knyte
And by me slayn for theyr fals fyte
The seconde is lawe that euer serueth
But within the realme onely
For other nacyons our lawe ne dredeth
But our swerd they do in specyally
For and they roose ayenst vs proudly
As they haue done often in tymes past
Yet w---supert; our swerd they shold be ouercast
The thyrde be marchauntes that do multyply
In this realme welth and prosperyte
For of euery thynge they often occupy
Euery man lyke vnto his faculte
For without marchauntes can not be
No realme vpholden in welth & pleasure
For it to vs is a specyall tresure
Also yet hercules the puyssaunt geaunt
Dyd flee the monstre afore Troy the grete
And with his strokes he dyd hym daunt
They were so peysantly on hym sette
That he the vyctory on hym dyd gette
Had I not be comfort vnto his harte
Suche vyctory had ben leyd aparte
Dyd he not vaynquysshe in y&supere; forest of Nemee
The thre mortall lyons by his grete hardynes
And ryued theyr Iawes as was to se
By twene his handes by chyualrus prowes
And yet by armes and knyghtly exces
In egypt he slewe the tyraunt Busyre
And brent hym after in a grete fyre
Also he slewe the tyraunt Cacus
For his tyranny and grete myschefe
By cause his dedys were so odyous
For he dyd murdre and was a thefe
Wherfore his deth to many was leef
Who more of his actes wyll haue report
To the Troyans story lette hym resort
Also the worthy and the noble hectour
That eclyped was the troyans champyon
And of all cheualry called the flour
In his tyme reynynge and of renowne
Of whose noble dedes the brute and sowne
Was spred by euery straunge habytacyon
That they of his faytys dyde make relacyon
By his power and hardy corage
He put the grekes full often to flyght
And bete theym downe by a grete outrage
That well was he that hym saue myght
Full often he brought theym to the plyght
His dedes were pure without magycyon
And without nygromancy or suche corrupcyon
Dyd I not cause also kynge dauith
A lyon Iawbones to rent and tere
That dyd deuour his shepe in the fryth
As he sat kepynge of theym there
The lyons crueltye myght not hym fere
And he in his youth so hardy was
That he dyd sle the gyaunt Golias
Dyd I not cause the noble Iulius
Emperour of rome for to be electe
By cause he was so stronge and cheualrus
Whan in armes he knewe the affecte
He all his ennemyes dyd abiecte
And by the support of my chyef socour
He gouerned hymselfe lyke a noble emperour
And also Arthur kynge of Bretayne
With all the knyghtes of the rounde table
Neuer auentures had sought certayne
And I therto had not ben greable
They for to fyght had not ben able
Who that me lacketh is but a coward
And shame is euer his rewarde
Also kynge Charlemayne kynge of Fraunce
With his dyssypers Rowland and Olyuer
With all the resydue of his alyaunce
That in all armes so noble were
On goddys ennemyes brake many a spere
Causynge them to flee to theyr grete vylony
Hardynes was cause that they had vyctory
O worthy hardynes the shynynge sterre
Alway to mannys herte the comfort
Whan that it is the tyme of werre
Unto what partye that thou resort
They wynne the batall by thy support
And wher that thou lettest thy bemys dyssende
They often hye to honoure assende
Than sayd dame hardynes vnto the Iuge
I pray you that ryght I may haue
Sythens I to man am chyef refuge
Whan that he lysteth of me to craue
I make hym coragyous and his worshyp saue
Wherfore I owte to haue the preemynence
By ryght reason and good experyence
That I deny you sayd dame Sapyence
Of whom haue you your ordre of pledynge
For ye neuer can haue none intellygence
But by the meane of myn informynge
For I am alway your mynde techynge
And without me your tale were but a fable
For ye without wytte sholde alway bable
This wyll I proue by myn opynyon
That I am grounde of the artes seuen
And of all good werkes in cōmunyon
For no man without me can go to heuen
My dedys be merueylous for man to neuen
Whan they beu wrought in to theyr degre
Who that wyll lerne theym he hath the lyberte
Of my dedes bokes do make recorde
The whiche clerkes put into remembraunce
For an example without dyscorde
Of heuenly way by vertuous gouernaunce
Without me man can haue no pleasaunce
Nor yet hym rule in no maner wyse
A man without wytte is to dyspyse
Hardynes without prudence may not auayle
Though that a man be neuer so sturdy
For a wyseman feble may wynne the batayle
Of hym that is ryght stronge and myghty
For better it is for to be ryght wytty
In the defence of his good saue garde
Than often to stryke and to renne forwarde
That thynge that hardynes may not wynne
May be goten by my hyghe souerente
And with the helpe of subtyle engynne
It may be brought to the extremyte
Wher that it myght not by possybylyte
Of hardynes longe afore be wonne
Yet by grete wysedome it may be donne
Unto dyuers cases I take excepcyon
Of dame Hardynes whiche are no lawe
Unto the fyrst vndre your correccyon
She sayd and she her power dyd wythdrawe
No rebell than shold stand in awe
And she is the chyef as I knowe well
That causeth hym for to be rebell
By her foly and folysshe hardynes
She causeth men to ryse ayenst theyr lorde
She is the cause of mortall heuynes
Whan she doth breke the good concorde
Wherfore me thynke by one accorde
For to exyle her it is now the best
Than man sholde lyue in peas and rest
And where she sayd that she exalted
Iulius cesar by her grete exylence
In that case she ryght clerely varyed
For it was I by my grete dylygence
That neuer was out of his presence
But ruled hym and made hym worthy
To be chosen emperour of all Italy
Chosen he was by the comyn assent
For the grete wysedome that in hym shone
With a grete voyce and a hole entente
For lyke vnto hym was there none
That was so abell as he alone
For to occupye an Emperours dygnyte
Of his promocyon he myght thanke me
I Sapyence am endewed with grace
And the lode sterre of heuenly doctryne
The sprynge of comfort Ioye and solace
Who that lyst to me for to enclyne
He shall knowe thynges that be dyuyue
And at his ende beholde the deyte
That is one god and persones thre
It pleased the fader that is omnipotent
His sone to send to be incarnat
Of the vyrgyn Mary the sterre moost excellent
Mayden and moder yet not vyolate
Lyke a vessell chosen and made ornat
All onely for to be goddys moder
All he hym selfe vnto man broder
But a stryfe there was bytwene god and man
Whan man consented to synne dedely
By that the dyscorde fyrst began
Whan he the sone of god on hy
That is his brother agayn wyll crucefy
Yf he had power by whiche is offended
The fader of heuen as is entended
Therfore lete vs to our brother go
Named Ihesu Cryst and axe hym mercy
With a good entent and hert also
There is for vs none other remedy
That ony tonge truely can specyfy
And he wyll take it for a correccyon
And of all vengeaunce sease the affeccyon
That we may of hym haue forgyuenes
Of our grete synne with reformacyon
Of peas bytwene the faders hyghenes
Of heuen and vs in suspyracyon
Therfore yf thou drede the amocyon
Of his ryghtwysnes loke that thou flee
Ryght fast vnto his mercyfull pyte
For his mercy is more than all our mysery
And eke aboue his werkes all
As Dauyd sheweth in his prophecy
Saynge his mercy is ouer all
To whom I pray euer in especyall
To gyue me grace well my penne to lede
That quaketh aye for drede
Dame Sapyence sayd I do procede
Of the strength of the holy ghoost
That is and shall be mater in dede
God and lorde of myghtys moost
Whose infynall power was neuer lost
And yet neuer had no begynnynge
But alway lyke stronge without endynge
Where that dame hardynes in her pledynge
Made her selfe to knyghtes moost necessary
By the meanes of her power shewynge
That I by ryght do now well deny
For in that case she dyd moche vary
For syxe there are that more profyte be
Of whiche the lest is better than she
The fyrst is prudence that is the chefe
That hym doth rule and is his gyde
And kepeth hym from grete reprefe
And causeth his worshyp for to abyde
So euery crysten man shold prouyde
By his wit to withstand the deuyll
That he consent not to do euyll
The seconde is that he sholde be true
To his souerayn lorde that on hym reyneth
And all treason for euer to eschewe
In whiche grete shame often remayneth
And by whiche he his kyne dysteyneth
So a crysten man sholde be true euer
To Ihesu Cryst that was his redemer
The thyrde is that he sholde be lyberall
Amonge his cōmons withouten lette
That is the cause euer in generall
That he the loue of theym doth gette
For it causeth theyr hertes on hym be sette
So euery true crysten man sholde be
To god intended with lyberalyte
The fourth is that he sholde be stronge
His ryght euer for to defende
And neuer to no man for to do wronge
But wronges for to dyrecte and amende
As ferre as his power wyll extende
So a true crysten man sholde exclude
All maner of vyces by his fortytude
The fyfth is y&supert; he sholde be mercyable
In all his dedes withouten furoure
For that to hym is gretly conuenable
And eke to kepe hym out of erroure
For he of mercy sholde be a myrroure
So vnto them it is ryght necessary
Who that wyll be saued for to haue mercy
The syxte is a knyght ought for to kepe
The poore folke in theyr grete nede
That often for hungre and thyrst do wepe
He ought with almes theym for to fede
And the better he shall than spede
So euery true crysten man sholde do
As ferre as his power cometh vnto
I Sapyence am of the kynges counsayll
Whiche is clothed with purple that sygnyfyeth
The grace and the pulcrytude without fayll
Of grete vertues that in hym shyneth
For to no vyces he neuer enclyneth
Hauynge in his hede a fayre crowne royall
That sheweth his dygnyte to be regall
Whiche to his people is the chefe glory
Thrugh whome his subgectes be dyrecte
And made obedyent to hym certaynly
At euery houre by ryght true effecte
But forthermore by good aspecte
He bereth a ball in his lefte hande
The whiche betokeneth as I vnderstande
A kynge to be a good admynystratour
Unto his subgectes in euery place
And to be for theym a good prouysour
As reason requyreth in euery case
I Sapyence do rule his noble grace
In his ryght hand he hath a septure
That doth sygnyfye by ryght his rygoure
Yll men to punysshe for theyr offence
By his ryghtwysnes whome the loue
Of vertue shynynge in experyence
Doth not extoll nor yet now remoue
A lampe doth hange his heed aboue
Alway lyght and clerely brennynge
Whiche sygnyfyeth the mercy of a kynge
The olde philosophers by theyr prudence
Fonde the seuen scyences lyberall
And by theyr exercyse & grete dylygence
They made theyr dedes to be memoryall
And also poetes that were fatall
Craftely colored with clowdy fygures
The true sentence of all theyr scryptures
O Iustyce lady and souerayne goddesse
Gyue you true sentence now vpon me
As ye be surmountynge in vertue & noblesse
Lete me dame Sapyence haue the soueraynte
As is accordynge to my royall dygnyte
For I am moost profytable vnto man
And euer had ben syns the world began
Than sayd dame Fortune ye are imperfyte
Without that I therto be accordaunt
For all your hardynes & prudence perfyte
I vnto you must be well exuberaunt
And with your werkes euer concordaunt
Where that I fauer they haue good cōfort
In all theyr dedes by my swete resort
I Fortune am the rule and steere
Of euery persone lyke to my wyll
That in this worlde now lyueth here
Whan that I lyst for to fulfyll
My mynde ryght sone I can dystyll
The dewe of comfort welth and rychesse
To man exaltyuge hym to noblenesse
Though that a man were neuer so hardy
Without me he myght not attayne
And though that a man were neuer so wytty
And I dyd my power from hym refrayne
All his labour were lost in vayne
So hardynesse and prudence in no wyse
Without good fortune may well suffyse
Though that a man were but a fole
Yf I consent that he be fortunate
He nedyth not to make no grete dole
For I shall mayntene so his estate
That he in rychesse shall be so eleuate
Fulfylled with welth & worldely tresure
That he shall lacke no maner of pleasure
Where that dame hardynes wold afferme
By her cases that are so vnsure
That she by her power doth conferme
The knyghtes of vyctory for to be sure
Whan she doth take theyr hertes in cure
Yf fortune be awaye she may not auayle
For they by reason must lose the batayle
Yet forthermore as I do well consyder
How dame hardynes dyd expresse
Sythens the tyme that I came hyder
That she promoted had to worthynes
Hector dauid and the noble hercules
With many other wherof she fayleth
For it was fortune as she well knoweth
For in olde tyme the noble warryours
For to eschewe euer my grete daungere
In whiche tyme they were ydolestours
Than they to put hym oute of fere
To ydols went that theyr goddes were
For to haue answer yf they sholde wynne
The batayll or they dyd begynne
What nede I pleed by longe contynuaunce
As dame Sapyence dyd in maters hy
It were of tyme but dyscontynuaunce
But o dame Iustyce the gentyll lady
Loke that ye Iuge my mater ryght wysely
That I of hardynes may be the pryncypall
And of dame prudence & nature with all
Than sayd dame nature that may not be
As I can proue by ryght and reason
For I am moost confort to humanyte
As man well knoweth at euery encheason
And can not be forborne for none season
For where I lacke without ony delay
Man is but dede and turned to clay
That nature gyueth by her power
Wysedome nor hardynes may not defete
For I to man am the chefe doer
Durynge his lyfe without retrete
Also dame fortune may not well lete
Me of my course though she it thought
In sondery wyse my dedes are so wrought
Though that a man were infortunable
And though that he were neuer so folysshe
And a grete coward to fyght not able
Yet shulde he lyue and neuer perysshe
Tyll that my power of hym doth fynysshe
Whiche fayle must ones it is my proprete
And that was gyuen me by the deyte
I am the orygynall of mannes creacyon
And by me alway the world doth multyply
In welth pleasure and delectacyon
As I wyll shewe now in this party
My dedes be subtyll & wrought craftely
What were the worlde yf I were note
It were sone done as I well wote
The lawe of nature doth man bynde
Both beste foule and fysshe also
In theyr degre to do theyr kynde
Blame theym not yf they do so
For harde it is euer to ouer go
The kynde of nature in her degre
For euery thynge must shewe his proprete
Who of theyr propretes lyst to rede
Lete hym loke in the boke of barthelmewe
And to his scripture take good hede
That ryght nobly of theym do shewe
With all theyr actes beynge not a fewe
But wounderous many by alteracyon
For lyke hath lyke his operacyon
I nature norysshe by myn afflyccyon
Mannes humayne partyes superfyxcyall
And am the sprynge of his complexion
The fonteyne of his vaynes inferyall
To hym conserue moost dere and specyall
Though he were hardy & wyse he myzt not me forbere
Nor fortune without me auayleth not hym a pere
Wherfore dame Iustyce be you now indyfferent
Consydre that I am moost dere and lefe
Unto euery man that is eliquylent
And aboue all medycyns to hym moost chefe
And by my strongh vnto hym relefe
In his dysease wherfore as thynke me
I ought of reason to haue the soueraynte
Than spake dame Iustyce with meke contenaūce
I wyll all your contrauersy now redresse
For I of your reasons haue good perseueraunce
And after your cases both more and lesse
Wherfore I Iustyce by good ryghtwysnesse
Gyue now vpon you a fynall Iugement
That ye foure agree by a hole assent
Man for to please at euery houre
Without dysgrement or contradiccyon
And in his nede to do hym socoure
With louynge herte and true affeccyon
He shall be in your good iurysdyccyon
And you of hym shall be copertyners
Both of his lyfe and of his maners
Than sayd dame hardynes I agre therto
And so do I than sayd dame Sapyence
Than sayd dame Fortune I also do
Agre vnto dame Iustyce sentence
And I dame Nature wyll do my dylygence
Lyke as ye do man for to please
And hym to strength in his dysease
With that dame Iustyce vp arose
Unto the ladyes byddynge fare well
And went into her chaumbre close
I cleped conscyence wher she dyd dwell
As dame Dyscrecyon dyd me tell
Than hardynes & fortune went downe the stayre
And after theym Nature so clere and fayre.

poem by Stephen Hawes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bowge of Courte

In Autumpne, whan the sonne in vyrgyne
By radyante hete enryped hath our corne,
Whan Luna, full of mutabylyte,
As Emperes the dyademe hath worne
Of our pole artyke, smylynge halfe in scorne
At our foly and our unstedfastnesse,
The tyme whan Mars to werre hym dyde dres,

pole artyke: Arcturus of the Corona Borealis
I, callynge to mynde the great auctoryte
Of poetes olde, whyche full craftely
Under as coverte termes as coude be,
Can touche a troughte and cloke it subtylly
Wyth fresshe utteraunce full sentencyonsly,
Dyverse in style, some spared not vyce to wrythe,
Some of moralyte nobly dyde endyte,

Wherby I rede theyr renome and theyr fame
Maye never dye bute evermore endure.
I was sore moved to a force the same,
But Ignoraunce full soone dyde me dyscure
And shewed that in this arte I was not sure,
For to illumyne she sayde I was to dulle,
Avysynge me my penne awaye to pulle

And not to wrythe, for he so wyll atteyne,
Excedynge ferther than his connynge is,
His hede maye be harde, but feble is his brayne!
Yet have I knowen suche er this;
But of reproche surely he maye not mys
That clymmeth hyer than he may fotynge have;
What and he slyde downe, who shall hym save?

Thus up and down my mynde was drawen and cast
That I ne wyste what to do was beste;
Soo sore enwered that I was, at the laste,
Enforsed to slepe and for to take some reste,
And to lye downe as soone as I me dreste.
At Harwyche Porte, slumbrynge as I laye
In myne hostes house, called Powers Keye,

Me thoughte I sawe a shyppe, goodly of sayle,
Come saylyng forth into that haven brood,
Her takelynge ryche and of hye apparayle;
She kyste an anker and there she laye at rode.
Marchauntes her borded to see what she had lode.
Therein they founde Royall marchaundyse,
Fraghted with plesure of what ye coude devyse.

But than I thoughte I wolde not dwell behynde,
Amonge all other I put myselfe in prece.
Than there coude I none aquentaunce fynde;
There was moche noyse, anone one cryed, cese!
Sharpely commaundynge eche man holde hys pece.
Maysters, he sayde, the shyp that ye here see,
The Bowge of Courte it hyghte for certeynte;

The awnner thereof is lady of estate,
Whoos name to tell is Dame Saunce Pere.
Her marchaundyse is ryche and fortunate,
But who wyll have it muste paye therfore dere;
This royall chaffre that is shypped here
Is called favore-to-stonde-in-her-good-grace.
Than sholde ye see there pressynge in a pace

Of one and other that wolde this lady see,
Whiche sat behynde a traves of sylke fyne,
Of golde of tessew the fynest that myghte be,
In a trone whiche fer clerer dyde shyne
Than Phebus in his spere celestyne,
Whoos beaute, honoure, goodly porte,
I have to lytyll connynge to reporte.

But of eche thynge there as I take hede,
Among all other was wrytten in her trone
In golde letters, this worde, whiche I dyde rede:
Garder le fortune que est mauelz et bone.
And as I stode redynge this verse myselfe allone,
Her chyef gentylwoman, daunger by her name,
Gave me a taunte, and sayde I was to blame

To he so perte to prese so proudly uppe.
She sayde she trowed that I had eten sause;
She asked yf ever I dranke of saucys cuppe.
And I than softly answered to that clause,
That, so to saye, I had gyven her no cause.
Than asked she me, Syr, so God the spede,
What is thy name? and I sayde it was Drede.

What movyd the, quod she, hydder to come?
Forsoth, quod I, to bye some of youre ware.
And with that worde on me she gave a glome
With browes bente and gan on me to stare
Full daynnously, and fro me she dyde fare,
Levynge me stondynge as a mased man,
To whome there came another gentylwoman.

Desyre her name was, and so she me tolde,
Sayenge to me, Broder, be of good chere,
Abasshe you not, but hardely be bolde,
Avaunce your selfe to aproche and come nere.
What though our chaffer he never so dere,
Yet I avyse you to speke for ony drede;
Who spareth to speke, in fayth, he spareth to spede.

Maystres, quod I, I have none aquentaunce
That wyll for me be medyatoure and mene;
And this an other, I have but smale substaunce.
Pece, quod Desyre, ye speke not worth a bene!
Yf ye have not, in fayth, I wyll you lene
A precyous jewell, no rycher in this londe:
Bone aventure have here now in your honde.

Shyfte now therwith, let see, as ye can,
In Bowge of Courte chevysaunce to make;
For I dare saye that there nys erthly man
But, and he can Bone aventure take,
There can no favour nor frendshyp hym forsake.
Bone aventure may brynge you in suche case
That ye shall stonde in favoure and in grace.

But of one thynge I werne you er I goo:
She that styreth the shyp, make her your frende.
Maystres, quod I, I praye you tell me why soo,
And how I maye that waye and meanes fynde.
Forsothe, quod she, how ever blowe the wynde,
Fortune gydeth and ruleth all oure shyppe.
Whome she hateth shall over the see boorde skyp.

Whome she loveth, of all plesyre is ryche
Whyles she laugheth and hath luste for to playe,
Whome she hateth she casteth in the dyche,
For whan she fronneth, she thynketh to make a fray;
She cheryssheth him, and hym she casseth awaye.
Alas, quod I, how myghte I have her sure?
In fayth, quod she, by bone aventure.

Thus in a rowe of martchauntes a grete route
Suwed to Fortune that she would be theyre frynde.
They thronge in fast and flocked her aboute,
And I with them prayed her to have in mynde.
She promysed to us all she wolde be kynde;
Of Bowge of Court she asketh what we wold have,
And we asked favoure, and favour she us gave. 120

Thus endeth the prologue; and begynneth
the Bowge of Courte brevely compyled.

DREDE

THE sayle is up, Fortune ruleth our helme,
We wante no wynde to passe now over all;
Favoure we have toughther than ony elme,
That wyll abyde and never frome us fall.
But under hony ofte tyme lyeth bytter gall,
For as me thoughte in our shyppe I dyde see
Full subtyll persones in nombre foure and thre.

The fyrste was Favell, full of flatery,
Wyth fables false, that well coude fayne a tale;
The seconde was Suspecte whiche that dayly
Mysdempte eche man, with face deedly and pale;
And Harvy Hafter, that well coude picke a male;
With other foure of theyr affynyte:
Dysdayne, Ryotte, Dyssymuler, Subtylte.

Fortune theyr frende with whome oft she dyde daunce:
They coude not faile, thei thought, they were so sure.
And oftentymes I wolde myselfe avaunce
With them to make solace and pleasure;
But my dysporte they coude not well endure;
They sayde they hated for to dele with Drede.
Than Favell gan wyth fayre speche me to fede.

FAVELL

Noo thynge erthely that I wonder so sore
As of your connynge that is so excellent;
Deynte to have with us suche one in store,
So vertuously that hath his dayes spente.
Fortune to you gyftes of grace hath lente:
Loo, what it is a man to have connynge!
All erthly tresoure it is surmountynge.

Ye be an apte man, as ony can be founde,
To dwell with us and serve my ladyes grace.
Ye be to her, yea, worth a thousande pounde;
I herde her speke of you within shorte space,
Whan there were dyverse that sore dyde you manace.
And though I say it I was myselfe your frende,
For here be dyverse to you that be unkynde.
But this one thynge ye maye be sure of me,
For by that lorde that bought dere all mankynde,
I can not flater, I muste be playne to the.
And ye nede ought, man, shewe to me your mynde,
For ye have me whome faythfull ye shall fynde;
Whyles I have ought, by God, thou shalt not lacke,
And yf nede be, a bolde worde I dare cracke.

Nay, naye, be sure, whyles I am on your syde
Ye maye not fall, truste me, ye maye not fayle.
Ye stonde in favoure and Fortune is your gyde,
And as she wyll so shall our grete shyppe sayle.
Thyse lewde cok wattes shall nevermore prevayle
Ageynste you hardely; therefore be not afrayde,
Farewell tyll soone, but no worde that I sayde.

DREDE

Than thanked I hym for his grete gentylnes,
But as me thoughte he ware on hym a cloke
That lyned was with doubtfuIl doublenes.
Me thoughte of wordes that he had full a poke,
His stomak stuffed ofte tymes dyde reboke.
Suspycyon, me thoughte, mette hym at a brayde,
And I drewe nere to herke what they two sayde.

In fayth, quod Suspecte, spake Drede no worde of me?
Why, what than? wylte thou lete men to speke?
He sayth he can not well accorde with the.
Twyst, quod Suspecte, goo playe, hym I ne reke!
By Cryste, quod Favell, Drede is soleyne freke.
What, lete us holde him up, man, for a whyle.
Ye, soo, quod Suspecte, he maye us bothe begyle.

And whan he came walkynge soberly,
Wyth 'Whom' and 'Ha' and with a croked loke,
Me thoughte his hede was full of gelousy,
His eyen rollynge, his hondes faste they quoke;
And to mewarde the strayte waye he toke.
God spede, broder, to me quod he than,
And thus to talke with me he began:

Ye remembre the gentylman ryghte nowe
That commaunde with you, me thought, a praty space?
Beware of him, for I make God avowe,
He wyll begyle you and speke fayre to your face.
Ye never dwelte in suche an other place,
For here is none that dare well other truste;
But I wolde telle you a thynge, and I durste.

Spake he, a fayth, no worde to you of me?
I wote and he dyde ye wolde me telle.
I have a favoure to you, wherof it be
That I muste shewe you moche of my counselle;
But I wonder what the devyll of helle
He sayde of me, whan he with you dyde talke;
By myne avyse use not with him to walke.

The soveraynst thynge that ony man maye have
Is lytyll to saye and moche to here and see;
For but I trusted you so God me save,
I wolde noo thynge so playne be.
To you oonly, me thynke, I durste shryve me,
For now am I plenarely dysposed
To shewe you thynges that may not be disclosed.

DREDE

Than I assured hym my fydelyte,
His counseyle secrete never to dyscure,
Yf he coude fynde in herte to truste me.
Els I prayed hym with all my besy cure
To kepe it hymselfe, for than he myghte be sure
That noo man erthly coude hym bewreye.
Whyles of his mynde it were lockte with the keye.

By God, quod he, this and thus it is,
And of his mynde he shewed me all and some.
Fare well, quod he, we wyll talke more of this.
Soo he departed there he wolde be come.
I dare not speke, I promysed to be dome.
But as I stode musynge in my mynde,
Harvy Hafter came lepynge, lyghte as lynde.

Upon his breste he bare a versynge boxe;
His throte was clere and lustely coude fayne;
Me thoughte his gowne was all furred wyth foxe;
And ever he sange, Sythe I am no thynge playne.
To kepe him frome pykynge, it was a grete payne;
He gased on me with his gotyshe berde;
Whan I loked on hym, my purse was half aferde.

HERVY HAFTER

Syr, God you save, why loke you so sadde?
VVhat thynge is that I maye do for you?
A wonder thynge that ye waxe not madde.
For and I studye sholde as ye doo nowe,
My wytte wolde waste, I make God avowe.
Tell me your mynde, me thynke ye make a verse,
I coude it skan and ye wolde it reherse.

But to the poynte shortely to procede,
Where hathe your dwellynge ben, er ye cam here?
For as I trowe, I have sene you in dede
Er this, whan that ye made me royall chere.
Holde up the helme, loke up and lete God stere:
I wolde be mery that wynde that ever blowe,
Heve and how, rombelow, Row the bote, Norman, rowe!

Prynces of youghte can ye synge by rote?
Or Shall I sayle wyth you a felashyp assaye?
For on the booke I can not synge a note,
Wolde to God it wolde please you some daye
A balade boke before me for to laye,
And leme me to synge Re my fa sol!
And whan I fayle bobbe me on the noll.

Loo, what is to you a pleasure grete
To have that connynge and wayes that ye have;
By Goddis soule, I wonder how ye gete
Soo greate pleasyre or who to you it gave.
Syr, pardone me, I am an homely knave
To be with you thus perte and thus bolde;
But ye be welcome to our housholde.

And I dare saye there is no man hereinne
But wolde be glad of your company:
I wyste never man that so soone coude wynne
The favoure that ye have with my lady.
I praye to God that it maye never dy;
It is your fortune for to have that grace,
As I be saved, it is a wonder case.

For as for me, I served here many a daye,
And yet unneth I can have my lyvynge—
But I requyre you no worde that I saye.
For, and I knowe ony erthly thynge
That is agayne you, ye shall have wetynge;
And ye be welcome, syr, so God me save,
I hope here after a frende of you to have.

DREDE

Wyth that, as he departed soo fro me,
Anone ther mette with him, as me thoughte,
A man, but wonderly besene was he:
He loked hawte, he sette eche man at noughte,
His gawdy garment with scornnys was all wrought;
With Indygnacyon lyned was his hode;
He frowned as he wolde swere by Cockes blode.

He bote the lyppe, he loked passynge coye,
His face was belymmed as byes had him stounge;
It was no tyme with him to jape nor toye.
Envye hathe wasted his lyver and his lounge,
Hatred by the herte so had hym wrounge
That he loked pale as asshes to my syghte;
Dysdayne, I wene, this comerous carkes hyghte.

To Hervy Hafter than he spake of me,
And I drewe nere to harke what they two sayde.
Now, quod Dysdayne, as I shall saved be,
I have grete scorne and am ryghte evyll apayed.
Than, quod Hervy, why arte thou so dysmayde?
By Cryste, quod he, for it is shame to saye,
To see Johan Dawes that came but yesterdaye

How he is now taken in conceyte,
This Doctour Dawcocke, Drede, I wene he hyghte.
By Goddis bones, but yf we have som sleyte,
It is lyke he wyll stonde in our lyghte.
By God, quod Hervy, and it so happen myghte.
Lete us therfore shortely at a worde
Fynde some mene to caste him over the borde.

By him that me boughte, than quod Dysdayne,
I wonder sore he is in suche cenceyte.
Turde, quod Hafter, I wyll the nothynge fayne,
There muste for hym be layde some prety beyte.
We tweyne, I trowe, be not withoute dysceyte:
Fyrste pycke a quarell and fall oute with hym then,
And soo outface hym with a carde of ten.

Forthwith he made on me a prowde assawte,
With scornfull loke meuyd all in moode.
He wente aboute to take me in a fawte;
He frounde, he stared, he stampped where he stoode.
I loked on hym, I wende he had be woode.
He set the arme proudly under the syde,
And in this wyse he gan with me to chyde.

DISDAYNE

Remembrest thou what thou sayd yesternyght?
Wylt thou abyde by the wordes agayne?
By God, I have of the now grete dyspyte;
I shall the angre ones in every vayne.
It is greate scorne to see suche an hayne
As thou arte, one that cam but yesterdaye,
With us olde servauntes such maysters to playe.

I tell the I am of countenaunce;
What weneste I were? I trowe thou knowe not me.
By Goddis woundes but for dysplesaunce
Of my querell soone wolde I venged be.
But, no force, I shall ones mete with the;
Come whan it wyll, oppose the I shall,
Whatsomever aventure therof fall.

Trowest thou, drevyll, I saye, thou gawdy knave,
That I have deynte to see the cherysshed thus?
By Goddis syde, my sworde thy berde shall shave!
Well, ones thou shalte be chermed, I wus.
Naye, strawe for tales, thou shalte not rule us,
We be thy betters and so thou shalte us take,
Or we shall the oute of thy clothes shake!

DREDE

Wyth that came Ryotte russhynge all at ones,
A rusty gallande, to ragged and to rente,
And on the borde he whyrled a payre of bones;
Quater treye dews, he clatered as he wente:
Now have at all, by Saynte Thomas of Kente.
And ever he threwe, and kyst I wote nere what,
His here was growen thorowe oute his hat.

cast I never knew what
Thenne I behelde how he dysgysed was,
His hede was hevy for watchynge overnyghte,
His eyen blereed, his face shone lyke a glas,
His gowne so shorte that it ne cover myghte
His rumpe, he wente so all for somer lyghte;
His hose was garded wyth a lyste of grene,
Yet at the knee they were broken, I wene.

somer lyghte: dressed for summer. lyste: strip
His cote was checked with patches rede and blewe,
Of Kyrkeby Kendall was his shorte demye;
And ay he sange, In fayth, Decon, thou crewe.
His elbowe bare, he ware his gere so nye,
His nose a.droppynge, his lyppes were full drye,
And by his syde his whynarde and his pouche,
The Devyll myghte daunce therin for ony crowche.

Counter he coude (O lux) upon a potte,
An eestryche fedder of a capons tayle
He set up fresshely upon his hat alofte;
What, revell route, quod he, and gan to rayle
How ofte he hadde hit Jenet on the tayle,
Of Felyce fetewse and lytell prety Cate,
How ofte he knocked at her klycked gate.

What sholde I tell more of his rebaudrye?
I was ashamed so to here hym prate,
He had no pleasure but in harlotrye.
Ay, quod he, in the devylles date,
What arte thou? I sawe the nowe but late.
Forsothe, quod I, in this courte I dwell nowe.
Welcome, quod Ryote, I make God avowe.

RYOTE

And, syr, in fayth, why comste not us amonge
To make the mery, as other felowes done?
Thou muste swere and stare, man, aldaye longe,
And wake all nyghte and slepe tyll it be none;
Thou mayste not studye or muse on the mone.
This worlde is nothynge but ete, drynke and slepe,
And thus with us good company to kepe.

Plucke up thyne herte upon a mery pyne,
And lete us laugh a placke or tweyne at nale;
What the devyll, man, myrthe was never one.
What, loo, man, see here of dyce a bale;
A brydelynge caste for that is in thy male!
Now have at all that lyeth upon the burde,
Fye on this dyce, they be not worth a turde!

Have at the hasarde or at the dosen browne,
Or els I pas a peny to a pounde;
Now wolde to God thou wolde leye money downe!
Lorde, how that I wolde caste it full rounde!
Ay, in my pouche a buckell I have founde,
The armes of Calyce, I have no coyne nor crosse,
I am not happy, I renne ay on the losse!

Now renne muste I to the stewys syde,
To wete yf Malkyn, my lemman, have gete oughte:
I lete her to hyre that men maye on her ryde,
Her harnes easy ferre and nere is soughte.
By Goddis sydes, syns I her thyder broughte,
She hath gote me more money with her tayle
Than hath some shyppe that into Bordews sayle.

Had I as good an hors as she is a mare,
I durste aventure to journey thorugh Fraunce;
Who rydeth on her, he nedeth not to care,
For she is trussed for to breke a launce.
It is a curtel that well can wynche and praunce;
To her wyll I nowe all my poverte lege.
And tyll I come have, here is myne hat to plege.

DREDE

Gone is this knave, this rybaude foule and leude;
He ran as fast as ever that he myghte.
Unthryftynes in hym may well be shewed,
For whome Tyborne groneth both daye and nyghte.
And as I stode and kyste asyde my syghte,
Dysdayne I sawe with Dyssymulacyon,
Standynge in sadde communicacion.

But there was poyntynge and noddynge with the hede,
And many wordes sayde in secrete wyse;
They wandred ay and stode styll in no stede.
Me thoughte, alwaye Dyscymular dyde devyse;
Me, passynge sore, myne herte than gan aryse,
I dempte and drede theyr talkynge was not good.
Anone Dyscymular came where I stode.

Than in his hode I sawe there faces tweyne,
That one was lene and lyke a pyned goost,
That other loked as he wolde me have slayne.
And to mewarde as he gan for to coost,
Whan that he was even at me almoost,
I sawe a knyfe hyd in his one sIeve,
Wheron was wryten this worde, myscheve.

And in his other sleve, me thought I sawe
A spone of golde, full of hony swete,
To fede a fole, and for to preye a dawe.
And on that sleve these wordes were wrete,
A false abstracte cometh from a fals concrete.
His hode was syde, his cope was roset graye,
Thyse were the wordes he to me dyde saye:

DYSSYMULATION

How do ye, mayster? Ye loke so soberly,
As I be saved at the dredefull daye,
It is a perylous vyce, this envy.
Alas, a connynge man ne dwelle maye
In no place well, but foles with hym fraye.
But as for that, connynge hath no foo
Save hym that nought can: scrypture sayth soo.

I knowe your vertu and your lytterkture
By that lytel connynge that I have;
Ye be malygned sore, I you ensure
But ye have crafte your selfe alwaye to save.
It is grete scorne to se a mysproude knave
With a clerke that connynge is to prate:
Lete theym go lowse theym, in the devylles date.

For allbeit that this longe not to me,
Yet on my backe I bere suche lewde delynge;
Ryghte now I spake with one, I trowe, I see—
But, what, a strawe! I maye not tell all thynge.
By God, I saye, there is grete herte brennynge
Betwene the persone ye wote of, you—
Alas, I coude not dele so with a Jew!

is not my business
I wolde eche man were as playne as I,
It is a worlde, I saye, to here of some;
I hate this faynynge, fye upon it, fye!
A man can not wote where to become;
Iwys I coude tell—but humlery, home,
I dare not speke, we be so layde awayte,
For all our courte is full of dysceyte.

Now, by Saynte Fraunceys, that holy man and frer
I hate this wayes agayne you that they take!
Were I as you, I wolde ryde them full nere,
And by my trouthe but yf an ende they make,
Yet wyll I saye some wordes for your sake
That shall them angre, I holde thereon a grote,
For some shall wene be hanged by the throte.

I bet money on it
I have a stoppyng oyster in my poke,
Truste me and yf it come to a nede;
But I am lothe for to reyse a smoke,
Yf ye coude be otherwyse agrede;
And so I wolde it were, so God me spede,
For this maye brede to a confusyon,
Withoute God make a good conclusyon.

Naye, see where yonder stondeth the teder man,
A flaterynge knave and false he is, God wote;
The drevyll stondeth to herken and he can.
It were more thryft he boughte him a newe cote;
It wyll not be, his purse is not on flote.
All that he wereth it is borowed ware,
His wytte is thynne, his hode is threde-bare.

More coude I saye, but what this is ynowe;
Adewe tyll soone, we shall speke more of this.
Ye muste be ruled as I shall tell you howe,
Amendis maye be of that is now amys.
And I am your, syr, so have I blys,
In every poynte that I can do or saye.
Gyve me your honde, fare well and have good daye.

DREDE

Sodaynly, as he departed me fro,
Came pressynge in one in a wonder araye;
Er I was ware, behynde me he sayde Bo!
Thenne I, astonyed of that sodeyne fraye,
Sterte all at ones. I lyked no thynge his playe,
For yf I had not quyckely fledde the touche,
He had plucte oute the nobles of my pouche.

He was trussed in a garmente strayte
(I have not sene suche anothers page)
For he coude well upon a casket wayte,
His hode all pounsed and garded lyke a cage.
Lyghte lyme fynger, he toke none other wage.
Harken, quod he, loo here myne honde in thyne,
To us welcome thou arte, by Saynte Quyntyne.

DISCEYTE

But by that Lorde that is one, two and thre,
I have an errande to rounde in your ere.
He tolde me so, by God, ye maye truste me.
Parde, remembre whan ye were there,
There I wynked on you, wote ye not where?
In (A) loco, I mene juxta (B),
Woo is hym that is blynde and maye not see!

But to here the subtylte and the crafte,
As I shall tell you, yf ye wyll harke agayne:
And whan I sawe the horsons wolde you hafte,
To holde myne honde, by God, I had grete payne;
For forthwyth there I had him slayne,
But that I drede mordre wolde come oute;
Who deleth with shrewes hath nede to loke aboute.

DREDE

And as he rounded thus in myne ere
Of false collusyon confetryd by assente,
Me thoughte I see lewde felawes here and there
Game for to slee me of mortall entente.
And as they came, the shyphorde faste I hente,
And thoughte to lepe, and even with that woke,
Caughte penne and ynke, and wroth this lytyll boke.

I wolde therwith no man were myscontente,
Besechynge you that shall it see or rede,
In every poynte to be indyfferente,
Syth all in substaunce of slumbrynge doth procede.
I wyll not saye it is mater in dede,
But yet oftyme suche dremes be founde trewe;
Now constrewe ye what is the resydewe.

poem by John Skelton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bowge of Courte

In Autumpne whan the sonne in vyrgyne
By radyante hete enryped hath our corne
Whan luna full of mutabylyte
As Emperes the dyademe hath worne
Of our pole artyke smylynge halfe in scorne
At our foly and our vnstedfastnesse
The tyme whan Mars to werre hym dyd dres

I callynge to mynde the great auctoryte
Of poetes olde whyche full craftely
Under as couerte termes as coude be
Can touche a troughte and cloke it subtylly
Wyth fresshe vtteraunce full sentencyously
Dyuerse in style some spared not vyce to wrythe
Some of moralyte nobly dyde endyte

Wherby I rede theyr renome and theyr fame
Maye neuer dye bute euermore endure
I was sore moued to a force the same
But Ignoraunce full soone dyde me dyscure
And shewed that in this arte I was not sure
For to Illumyne she sayde I was to dulle
Auysynge me my penne awaye to pulle

And not to wrythe/ for he so wyll atteyne
Excedynge ferther than his connynge is
His hede maye be harde but feble is his brayne
Yet haue I knowen suche er this
But of reproche surely he maye not mys
That clymmeth hyer than he may fotynge haue
What and he slyde downe who shall hym saue

Thus vp & down my mynde was drawen & cast
That I ne wyste what to do was beste
Soo sore enwered that I was at the laste
Enforsed to slepe and for to take some reste
And to lye downe as soone as I me dreste
At harwyche porte slumbrynge as I laye
In myne hostes house called powers keye

Me thoughte I sawe a shyppe goodly of sayle
Come saylynge forth into that hauen brood
Her takelynge ryche and of hye apparayle
She kyste an anker and there she laye at rode
Marchauntes her borded to see what she had lode
Therein they founde Royall marchaundyse
Fraghted with plesure of what ye coude deuyse

But than I thoughte I wolde not dwell behynde
Amonge all other I put myselfe in prece
Than there coude I none aquentaunce fynde
There was moche noyse anone one cryed cese
Sharpely commaundynge eche man holde hys pece
Maysters he sayde the shyp that ye here see
The bowge of courte it hyghte for certeynte

The awnner therof is lady of estate
Whoos name to tell is dame saunce pere
Her marchaundyse is ryche and fortunate
But who wyll haue it muste paye therfore dere
This Royall chaffre that is shypped here
Is called fauore to stonde in her good grace
Than sholde ye see there pressynge in a pace

Of one and other that wolde this lady see
Whiche sat behynde a traues of sylke fyne
Of golde of tessew the fynest that myghte be
In a trone whiche fer clerer dyde shyne
Than Phebus in his spere celestyne
Whoos beaute honoure goodly porte
I haue to lytyll connynge to reporte

But of eche thynge there as I toke hede
Amonge all other was wrytten in her trone
In golde letters this worde whiche I dyde rede
Garder le fortune que est mauelz et bone
And as I stode redynge this verse myselfe allone
Her chyef gentylwoman daunger by her name
Gaue me a taunte and sayde I was to blame

To be so perte to prese so proudly vppe
She sayde she trowed that I had eten sause
She asked yf euer I dranke of saucys cuppe
And I than softly answered to that clause
That so to saye. I had gyuen her no cause
Than asked she me Syr so god the spede
What is thy name and I sayde it was drede

What mouyd the quod she hydder to come
Forsoth quod I to bye some of youre ware
And with that worde on me she gaue a glome
With browes bente and gan on me to stare
Full daynnously and fro me she dyde fare
Leuynge me stondynge as a mased man
To whome there came another gentylwoman

Desyre her name was and so she me tolde
Sayenge to me broder be of good chere
Abasshe you not but hardely be bolde
Auaunce yourselfe to aproche and come nere
What though our chaffer be neuer so dere
Yet I auyse you to speke for ony drede
Who spareth to speke in fayth he spareth to spede

Maystres quod I. I haue none aquentaunce
That wyll for me be medyatoure and mene
And this another I haue but smale substaunce
Pece quod Desyre ye speke not worth a bene
Yf ye haue not in fayth I wyll you lene
A precyous Iewell no rycher in this londe
Bone auenture haue here now in your honde

Shyfte now therwith let see as ye can
In bowge of courte cheuysaunce to make
For I dare saye that there nys erthly man
But an he can bone auenture take
There can no fauour nor frendshyp hym forsake
Bone auenture may brynge you in suche case
That ye shall stonde in fauoure and in grace

But of one thynge I werne you er I goo
She that styreth the shyp make her your frende
Maystres quod I. I praye you tell me why soo
And how I maye that waye & meanes fynde
Forsothe quod she howeuer blowe the wynde
Fortune gydeth and ruleth all oure shyppe
Whome she hateth shall ouer the seeboorde skyp

Whome she loueth of all plesyre is ryche
Whyles she laugheth and hath luste for to playe
Whome she hateth she casteth in the dyche
For whan she frouneth she thynketh to make a fray
She cheryssheth him and hym she casseth a waye
Alas quod I how myghte I haue her sure
In fayth quod she by bone auenture

Thus in a rowe of martchauntes a grete route
Suwed to fortune that she wold be theyre frynde
They thronge in fast and flocked her aboute
And I with them prayed her to haue in mynde
She promysed to vs all she wolde be kynde
Of bowge of court she asketh what we wold haue
And we asked fauoure/ and fauour she vs gaue

Thus endeth the prologue. And begynneth the bowge of Courte breuely compyled.

Drede

The sayle is vp fortune ruleth our helme
We wante no wynde to passe now ouerall
Fauoure we haue toughther than ony elme
That wyll abyde and neuer frome vs fall
But vnder hony oftetyme lyeth bytter gall
For as methoughte in our shyppe I dyde see
Full subtyll persones in nombre foure and thre

The fyrste was Fauell full of flatery
Wyth fables false that well coude fayne a tale
The seconde was Suspecte whiche that dayly
Mysdempte eche man with face deedly & pale
And Haruy hafter that well coude picke a male
With other foure of theyr affynyte
Dysdayne. Ryotte. Dyssymuler. Subtylte.

Fortune theyr frende with whome oft she dyde daunce
They coude not faile thei thought they were so sure
And oftentymes I wolde myselfe auaunce
With them to make solace and pleasure
But my dysporte they coude not well endure
They sayde they hated for to dele with Drede
Than Fauell gan wyth fayre speche me to fede

Fauell.

Noothynge erthely that I wonder so sore
As of your connynge that is so excellent
Deynte to haue with vs suche one in store
So vertuously that hath his dayes spente
Fortune to you gyftes of grace hath lente
Loo what it is a man to haue connynge
All erthly tresoure it is surmountynge

Ye be an apte man as ony can be founde
To dwell with vs & serue my ladyes grace
Ye be to her yea worth a thousande pounde
I herde her speke of you within shorte space
Whan there were dyuerse that sore dyde you manace
And though I say it I was myselfe your frende
For here be dyuerse to you that be vnkynde

But this one thynge ye maye be sure of me
For by that lorde that bought dere all mankynde
I can not flater I muste be playne to the
And ye nede ought man shewe to me your mynde
For ye haue me whome faythfull ye shall fynde
Whyles I haue ought by god thou shalt not lacke
And yf nede be a bolde worde I dare cracke

Nay naye be sure whyles I am on your syde
Ye maye not fall truste me ye maye not fayle
Ye stonde in fauoure and fortune is your gyde
And as she wyll so shall our grete shyppe sayle
Thyse lewde cokwattes shall neuermore preuayle
Ageynste you hardely therfore be not afrayde
Farewell tyll soone but no worde that I sayde

Drede.

Than thanked I hym for his grete gentylnes
But as methoughte he ware on hym a cloke
That lyned was with doubtfull doublenes
Methoughte of wordes that he had full a poke
His stomak stuffed oftetymes dyde reboke
Suspycyon methoughte mette hym at a brayde
And I drewe nere to herke what they two sayde

In fayth quod suspecte) spake drede no worde of me
Why what than wylte thou lete men to speke
He sayth he can not well accorde with the
Twyst quod suspecte) goo playe hym I ne reke
By cryste quod fauell drede is soleyne freke
What lete vs holde him vp man for a whyle
Ye soo quod suspecte) he maye vs bothe begyle

And whan he came walkynge soberly
Wyth whom/ and /ha/ and with a croked loke
Methoughte his hede was full of gelousy
His eyen rollynge his hondes faste they quoke
And to me warde the strayte waye he toke
God spede broder to me quod he than
And thus to talke with me he began

Suspycyon

Ye remembre the gentylman ryghte nowe
That commaunde with you methought a praty space
Beware of him for I make god auowe
He wyll begyle you and speke fayre to your face
Ye neuer dwelte in suche another place
For here is none that dare well other truste
But I wolde telle you a thynge and I durste

Spake he a fayth no worde to you of me
I wote and he dyde ye wolde me telle
I haue a fauoure to you wherof it be
That I muste shewe you moche of my counselle
But I wonder what the deuyll of helle
He sayde of me whan he with you dyde talke
By myne auyse vse not with him to walke

The soueraynst thynge that ony man maye haue
Is lytyll to saye/ and moche to here and see
For but I trusted you so god me saue
I wolde noothynge so playne be
To you oonly methynke I durste shryue me
For now am I plenarely dysposed
To shewe you thynges that may not be disclosed

Drede

Than I assured hym my fydelyte
His counseyle secrete neuer to dyscure
Yf he coude fynde in herte to truste me
Els I prayed hym with all my besy cure
To kepe it hymselfe for than he myghte be sure
That noo man erthly coude hym bewreye
Whyles of his mynde it were lockte with the keye

By god quod he this and thus it is
And of his mynde he shewed me all and some
Farewell quod he we wyll talke more of this
Soo he departed there he wolde be come
I dare not speke I promysed to be dome
But as I stode musynge in my mynde
Haruy hafter came lepynge lyghte as lynde

Upon his breste he bare a versyngeboxe
His throte was clere and lustely coude fayne
Methoughte his gowne was all furred wyth foxe
And euer he sange/ sythe I am nothynge playne
To kepe him frome pykynge it was a grete payne
He gased on me with his gotyshe berde
Whan I loked on hym my purse was half aferde

Heruy hafter.

Syr god you saue why loke ye so sadde
What thynge is that I maye do for you
A wonder thynge that ye waxe not madde
For and I studye sholde as ye doo nowe
My wytte wolde waste I make god auowe
Tell me your mynde methynke ye make a verse
I coude it skan and ye wolde it reherse

But to the poynte shortely to procede
Where hathe your dwellynge ben er ye cam here
For as I trowe I haue sene you indede
Er this whan that ye made me Royall chere
Holde vp the helme loke vp & lete god stere
I wolde be mery what wynde that euer blowe
Heue & how rombelow row the bote norman rowe

Prynces of youghte can ye synge by rote
Or shall I sayle wyth you a felashyp assaye
For on the booke I can not synge a note
Wolde to god it wolde please you some daye
A baladeboke before me for to laye
And lerne me to synge Re my fa sol
And whan I fayle bobbe me on the noll

Loo what is to you a pleasure grete
To haue that connynge & wayes that ye haue
By goddis soule I wonder how ye gete
Soo greate pleasyre or who to you it gaue
Syr pardone me I am an homely knaue
To be with you thus perte and thus bolde
But ye be welcome to our housholde

And I dare saye there is no man hereInne
But wolde be glad of your company
I wyste neuer man that so soone coude wynne
The fauoure that ye haue with my lady
I praye to god that it maye neuer dy
It is your fortune for to haue that grace
As I be saued it is a wonder case

For as for me I serued here many a daye
And yet vnneth I can haue my lyuynge
But I requyre you no worde that I saye
For and I knowe ony erthly thynge
That is agayne you ye shall haue wetynge
And ye be welcome syr so god me saue
I hope hereafter a frende of you to haue

Drede.

Wyth that as he departed soo fro me
Anone ther mette with him as methoughte
A man/ but wonderly besene was he
He loked hawte he sette eche man at noughte
His gawdy garment with scornnys was all wrought
With Indygnacyon lyned was his hode
He frowned as he wolde swere by cockes blode

He bote the lyppe he loked passynge coye
His face was belymmed as byes had him stounge
It was no tyme with him to Iape nor toye
Enuye hathe wasted hys lyuer and his lounge
Hatred by the herte so had hym wrounge
That he loked pale as asshes to my syghte
Dysdayne I wene this comerous carkes hyghte

To heruy hafter than he spake of me
And I drewe nere to harke what they two sayde
Now quod Dysdayne as I shall saued be
I haue grete scorne & am ryghte euyll apayed
Than quod Heruy why arte thou so dysmayde
By cryste quod he for it is shame to saye
To see Iohan dawes that came but yesterdaye

How he is now taken in conceyte
This doctour dawcocke Drede I wene he hyghte
By goddis bones but yf we haue som sleyte
It is lyke he wyll stonde in our lyghte
By god quod Heruy & it so happen myghte
Lete vs therfore shortely at a worde
Fynde some mene to caste him ouer the borde

By him that me boughte than quod Dysdayne
I wonder sore he is in such conceyte
Turde quod Hafter I wyll the nothynge layne
There muste for hym be layde some prety beyte
We tweyne I trowe be not withoute dysceyte
Fyrste pycke a quarell & fall oute with hym then
And soo outface hym with a carde of ten

Forthwith he made on me a prowde assawte
With scornfull loke meuyd all in moode
He wente aboute to take me in a fawte
He frounde he stared he stampped where he stoode
I loked on hym I wende he had be woode
He set the arme proudly vnder the syde
And in this wyse he gan with me to chyde

Disdayne.

Remembrest thou what thou sayd yesternyght
Wylt thou abyde by the wordes agayne
By god I haue of the now grete dyspyte
I shall the angre ones in euery vayne
It is greate scorne to see suche an hayne
As thou arte one that cam but yesterdaye
With vs olde seruauntes such maysters to playe

I tell the I am of countenaunce
What weneste I were. I trowe thou knowe not me
By goddis woundes but for dysplesaunce
Of my querell soone wolde I venged be
But no force I shall ones mete with the
Come whan it wyll oppose the I shall
Whatsomeuer auenture therof fall

Trowest thou dreuyll I saye thou gawdy knaue
That I haue deynte to see the cherysshed thus
By goddis syde my sworde thy berde shall shaue
Well ones thou shalte be chermed I wus
Naye strawe for tales thou shalte not rule vs
We be thy betters and so thou shalte vs take
Or we shall the oute of thy clothes shake

Drede.

Wyth that came Ryotte russhynge all atones
A rusty gallande to ragged and to rente
And on the borde he whyrled a payre of bones
Quater treye dews he clatered as he wente
Nowe haue at all by saynte Thomas of kente
And euer he threwe & kyst I wote nere what
His here was growen thoroweoute his hat

Thenne I behelde how he dysgysed was
His hede was heuy for watchynge ouernyghte
His eyen blereed his face shone lyke a glas
His gowne so shorte that it ne couer myghte
His rumpe he wente so all for somer lyghte
His hose was garded wyth a lyste of grene
Yet at the knee they were broken I wene

His cote was checked with patches rede & blewe
Of kyrkeby kendall was his shorte demye
And ay he sange in fayth decon thou crewe
His elbowe bare he ware his gere so nye
His nose a droppynge his lyppes were full drye
And by his syde his whynarde & his pouche
The deuyll myghte daunce therin for ony crowche

Counter he coude (O lux) vpon a potte
An eestrychefedder of a capons tayle
He set vp fresshely vpon his hat a lofte
What reuellroute quod he and gan to rayle
How ofte he hadde hit Ienet on the tayle
Of felyce fetewse and lytell prety cate
How ofte he knocked at her klyckedgate

What sholde I tell more of his rebaudrye
I was ashamed so to here hym prate
He had no pleasure but in harlotrye
Ay quod he in the deuylles date
What arte thou I sawe the nowe but late
Forsothe quod I in this courte I dwell nowe
Welcome quod Ryote I make god auowe

Ryote.

And syr in fayth why comste not vs amonge
To make the mery as other felowes done
Thou muste swere and stare man aldaye longe
And wake all nyghte and slepe tyll it be none
Thou mayste not studye or muse on the mone
This worlde is nothynge but ete drynke & slepe
And thus with vs good company to kepe

Plucke vp thyne herte vpon a mery pyne
And lete us laugh a placke or tweyne at nale
What the deuyll man myrthe was neuer one
What loo man see here of dyce a bale
A brydelyngecaste for that is in thy male
Now haue at all that lyeth vpon the burde
Fye on this dyce they be not worth a turde

Haue at the hasarde or at the dosen browne
Or els I pas a peny to a pounde
Now wolde to god thou wolde leye money downe
Lorde how that I wolde caste it full rounde
Ay in my pouche a buckell I haue founde
The armes of calyce I haue no coyne nor crosse
I am not happy I renne ay on the losse

Now renne muste I to the stewys syde
To wete yf malkyn my lemman haue gete oughte
I lete her to hyre that men maye on her ryde
Her harnes easy ferre and nere is soughte
By goddis sydes syns I her thyder broughte
She hath gote me more money with her tayle
Than hath some shyppe that into bordews sayle

Had I as good an hors as she is a mare
I durste auenture to Iourney thorugh Fraunce
Who rydeth on her he nedeth not to care
For she is trussed for to breke a launce
It is a curtel that well can wynche & praunce
To her wyll I nowe all my pouerte lege
And tyll I come haue here is myne hat to plege

Drede

Gone is this knaue this rybaude foule & leude
He ran as fast as euer that he myghte
Unthryftynes in hym may well be shewed
For whome tyborne groneth both daye and nyghte
And as I stode and kyste asyde my syghte
Dysdayne I sawe with Dyssymulacyon
Standynge in sadde communicacion

But there was poyntynge & noddynge with his hede
And many wordes sayde in secrete wyse
They wandred ay and stode styll in no stede
Methoughte alwaye Dyscymular dyde deuyse
Me passynge sore myne herte than gan aryse
I dempte & drede theyr talkynge was not good
Anone dyscymular came where I stode

Than in his hode I sawe there faces tweyne
That one was lene & lyke a pyned goost
That other loked as he wolde me haue slayne
And to mewarde as he gan for to coost
Whan that he was euen at me almoost
I sawe a knyfe hyd in his one sleue
Wheron was wryten this worde myscheue

And in his other sleue methought I sawe
A spone of golde full of hony swete
To fede a fole and for to preye a dawe
And on that sleue these wordes were wrete
A false abstracte cometh from a fals concrete
His hode was syde his cope was roset graye
Thyse were the wordes he to me dyde saye

Dyssymulation

How do ye mayster ye loke so soberly
As I be saued at the dredefull daye
It is a perylous vyce this enuy
Alas a connynge man ne dwelle maye
In no place well but foles with hym fraye
But as for that connynge hath no foo
Saue hym that nought can/ scrypture sayth soo.

I knowe your vertu and your lytterkture
By that lytel connynge that I haue
Ye be malygned sore I you ensure
But ye haue crafte yourselfe alwaye to saue
It is grete scorne to se a mysproude knaue
With a clerke that connynge is to prate
Lete theym go lowse theym in the deuylles date

For allbeit that this longe not to me
Yet on my backe I bere suche lewde delynge
Ryghte now I spake with one I trowe I see
But what a strawe I maye not tell allthynge
By god I saye there is a grete hertebrennynge
Betwene the persone ye wote of you
Alas I coude not dele so with a Iew

I wolde eche man were as playne as I
It is a worlde I saye to here of some
I hate this faynynge fye vpon it fye
A man can not wote where to become
I wys I coude tell but humlery home
I dare not speke we be so layde awayte
For all our courte is full of dysceyte

Now by saynte fraunceys that holy man & frere
I hate this wayes agayne you that they take
Were I as you I wolde ryde them full nere
And by my trouthe but yf an ende they make
Yet wyll I saye some wordes for your sake
That shall them angre I holde thereon a grote
For some shall wene be hanged by the throte

I haue a stoppyngeoyster in my poke
Truste me and yf it come to a nede
But I am lothe for to reyse a smoke
Yf ye coude be otherwyse agrede
And so I wolde it were so god me spede
For this maye brede to a confusyon
Withoute god make a good conclusyon

Naye see where yonder stondeth the teder man
A flaterynge knaue & false he is god wote
The dreuyll stondeth to herken and he can
It were more thryft he boughte him a newe cote
It wyll not be/ his purse is not on flote
All that he wereth it is borowed ware
His wytte is thynne his hode is thredebare

More coude I saye but what this is ynowe
Adewe tyll soone we shall speke more of this
Ye muste be ruled as I shall tell you howe
Amendis maye be of that is now a mys
And I am your syr so haue I blys
In euery poynte that I can do or saye
Gyue me your honde farewell & haue good daye

Drede

Sodaynly as he departed me fro
Came pressynge in one in a wonder araye
Er I was ware behynde me he sayde bo
Thenne I astonyed of that sodeyne fraye
Sterte all at ones I lyked nothynge his playe
For yf I had not quyckely fledde the touche
He had plucte oute the nobles of my pouche

He was trussed in a garmente strayte
I haue not sene suche anothers page
For he coude well vpon a casket wayte
His hode all pounsed and garded lyke a cage
Lyghte lymefynger he toke none other wage
Harken quod he loo here myne honde in thyne
To vs welcome thou arte by saynte Quyntyne

Disceyte.

But by that lorde that is one two and thre
I haue an errande to rounde in your ere
He tolde me so by god ye maye truste me
Parde remembre whan ye were there
There I wynked on you/ wote ye not where
In (A) loco I mene iuxta (B)
Woo is hym that is blynde and maye not see

But to here the subtylte and the crafte
As I shall tell you yf ye wyll harke agayne
And whan I sawe the horsons wolde you hafte
To holde myne honde by god I had grete payne
For forthwyth there I had him slayne
But that I drede mordre wolde come oute
Who deleth with shrewes hath nede to loke aboute

Drede.

And as he rounded thus in myne ere
Of false collusyon confetryd by assente
Methoughte I see lewde felawes here and there
Came for to slee me of mortall entente
And as they came the shypborde faste I hente
And thoughte to lepe/ and euen with that woke
Caughte penne and ynke & wroth this lytyll boke

I wolde therwith no man were myscontente
Besechynge you that shall it see or rede
In euery poynte to be indyfferente
Syth all in substaunce of slumbrynge doth procede
I wyll not saye it is mater indede
But yet oftyme suche dremes be founde trewe
Now constrewe ye what is the resydewe

poem by John Skelton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here Begynneth A Lyttell Treatyse Cleped La Conusaunce Damours

Forth gone the virgyns euerychone
Replet with ioye/and eke felicite
To gether floures. And some vnto one
Haue more fantasy/whan they it se
Than to all that in the medowes be
Another shall incontrary wyse
Gether other after theyr deuyse.

So done clerkes/of great grauite
Chose maters/wheron they lyst to wryte
But I that am of small capacite
Toke on me this treatyse to endyte
Tauoyde ydelnesse/more than for delyte
And most parte therof/tolde was to me
As here after/ye may rede and se.

Thus endeth the prologue.

The thyrde idus/in the moneth of July
Phebus his beames/lustryng euery way
Gladdynge the hartes/of all our Hemyspery
And mouynge many/vnto sporte and playe
So dyd it me/the treuthe for to saye
To walke forth/I had great inclination
Per chaunce some where/to fynde recreation

And as I walked/ever I dyd beholde
Goodly yonge people/that them encouraged
In suche maner wyse/as though they wolde
Ryght gladly have songe or daunsed
Or els some other gorgious thynge deuysed
Whose demeanynge/made me ryght ioyous
For to beholde/theyr dedes amorous.

To wryte all thynges of plesure/that I se
In euery place/where I passed by
In all a day recunted it can nat be
Who coude discryue the fresshe beauty
Of dames and pusels/attyred gorgiously
So swete of loke/so amiable of face
Smilyng doulcely/on suche as stande in grace

Certaynly theyr boute/and curtesy
Ofte moueth me/for to do my payne
Some thynge to wryte/them to magnifye
Aboue the sterres. But ay I may complayne
Ignoraunce/gouerneth so my brayne
That I ne dare/for nothynge presume
Out of my mouthe/to blowe suche a fume

It is a laboure/great and hyedous
Requirynge study/and moche experience
For my shulders/it is to ponderous
Whiche am priuate/of suche condigne science
It is for a man/of hygh eloquence
And worthynes/fame and memorie
So noble a thynge/to laude and magnifie.

But nowe to purpose/where I began
Walkyng abrode/wandryng to and fro
Beynge alone/with me was no man
Sodaynly/came in my mynde to go
Se. A faire pusell/and two or thre mo
Of her companions. This was myn entent
And by and by/forth thetherwarde I went.

Whan I came there/I founde at the dore
A dammusell/standyng all alone
Who I dyd salute/and ferthermore
Of her demaunded I/curtesly anone
Gentyll mayde where is your companion?
Syr she sayd (her hart on a mery pyn)
ye be welcome. she is nat nowe within

But by her faire/and swete countenance
I perceyued lyghtly/what she ment
Dame daunger moued her to that daliaunce
But Desyre bad me go. and in I went
And sodaynly/by the hand me hent
This most curtes mayde/who I went to se
Sayenge welcome/most derely vnto me.

And by the hande/than as she me had
In we went/talkynge joyously
Into a goodly parler/she me lad
And caused me to sytte/curtesly
Than vnto vs/came shortly by and by
Another/that me swetely dyd welcome
Bryngyng fresshe floures/and gave me some.

Than we began/to talke and deuyse
Of one and other/of olde acqueyntaunce
For comonly/of maydens is the gyse
Somtyme to demaunde for pastaunce
If that a man be in loues daunce
Or stande in grace/of any dammusell
Under suche maner/in talkynge we fell

We spake of loue/yet none of vs all
Knoweth perfectly/what loue shulde be
The one affyrmed/people veneriall
Folowynge the course/of their natiuite
Endure great sorowe/and moche aduersite
And many suffre/suche peyne and turment
That as mad folke/them selfe all to rent

Thus sayd one/and vp helde it styffely
That loue was of suche maner nature
That it myght rather be called a mad fury
Than any maner thynge of pleasure
To whiche wordes/thother mayden demure
Replyed. Prayeng vs/to gyue her licence
In this matter/to shewe forth her sentence

Gladly (we sayd (therto we assent
In this to here/your opinion
Forsoth (sayd she) ye shall nat be myscontent
All though therin/I make obiection
Where as nowe/ye haue made conclusion
Sayeng loue was a fury or a madnesse
Without all grauite/measure/or sadnesse

Nay surely/your reason is defectyue
For this ye knowe very perfectly
That they that loue/and hate for to stryue
Lyue a thousande tymes more quietly
Than they/that hate eche other mortally
For where as is no loue/nor tranquillite
There is myschef/langour/and all aduersite.

Loue is the very true manocorde
That euery wyght shulde harpe vpon
Louyng well eche other by very concorde
To this reason/byndeth vs euerychone
And this maner loue/is nat in vs alone
For bestes that haue/sence and vnderstandynge
By companies go/to gether right louynge

Whiche doyng I repute very perfect loue
Whan by no crafte/nor male engyn
From their amite/wyll nat remoue
The one to socour other shall neuer blyn
Who can depart true louyng folkes at wyn?
Father/children/and frendes of aliaunce/
And good neyghbours helpe other i eche chauce.

This maner frendshyp/very loue I call
Other than this/or lyke no man can fynde
Abyde (sayd the other) I thynke ye shall
Here my reason/contrary to your mynde
I trowe none hence to the lande of Inde
Can be founde. Whiche hath nat tasted
Other loue/than ye haue nowe rehersed

Harde you neuer tell/of yonge Pyramus/
And his swete loue/called fayre Thysby:
In all Babylon/the moost swete and gracious
Bothe shynyng/full of fresshe beauty
Dwellynge also/togyder very nye
Wherby the more/as I haue herde tell
Fro day to day/in feruent loue they fell

They wold both/ryght fayne haue bespoused
After suche lawe/as in that tyme they vse
But by theyr parentes/they were alway letted
Who of theyr myschief/I may well accuse
Neuer wolde one/the other of them refuse
The strayter they were kept/and inclosed
The more feruently/in loue they burned

And whan they coude nat to gyther speke
They made signes/tokyn and lokynge
By suche meanes/theyr myndz wolde they breke
That one of other had perfect vnderstandynge
Nowe it happed/as loue is euer sekynge
To fynde remedye/what therof befall
So at last they founde/a chenke in a wall

At whiche place/oft these louers two
Mette and talked/of their wo and payne
Many tymes/theder wolde they go
And on the wall/piteously complayne
That he stode/betwene them louers twayne
Nat openyng to them so moche space
To come to gether/eche other to enbrace

These and like wordes/ofte wolde they say
O enuious wall certes thou doest amysse
If thou wylt nat suffre/that we may
Ioyne our bodies/suffre vs to kysse
Agaynst the/we neuer dyd amysse
Wherfore be nat thou/to vs vnkynde
Opyn thy selfe/and obey to our mynde.

And whan they shulde part eche other fro
They toke leaue/and that ryght curtesly
yet alway/before or they wolde go
On eche syde/they kyst the wall swetely
Syghyng a lytell/very amorously
So wolde they stande/all many a longe nyght
Tyll Aurora/exild them with her lyght

And whan Phebus gan/his bemes downespred
Dryeng vp the dewes/in the medowes grene
Than wolde they stele priuely to bed
That they shulde/of no persone be sene
Where most of all/theyr sorowe sharpe and kene
At the hart/gan to prycke a pace
That they ne coude/rest in any place.

Nowe languysshe they/with syghes profoude
Nowe sorowe they/nowe they turne and wynde
Nowe fresshely bledeth/their incurable woude
Nowe cast they/right busely in mynde
Nowe they may/some crafte and maner fynde
Theyr kepers to deceyue/by some wyle
And to stele out/in the nyght by gyle.

After they had/fixed theyr myndes heron
They agreed/at theyr metyng place
That they wolde/into the feldes gon
The next nyght/and mete at a certayn place
And which, of them two/were first per case
Theder come/shulde no ferther go
Tyll the other/were ycome also.

Their metyng place/I vnderstande shulde be
At the supulchre/or tombe of kyng Ninus
(Kyng of Assiriens) vnder a goodly hye tre
Bearyng white aples/the tre cleped Morus
Growyng fast by/a fountayne delicious
In the sayd place/couenaunted to mete
yonge Pyram/and gracious Thysby swete.

Whan the longe day/was gone and past
And nyght come/every thynge at rest
The tendre mayde/hyed her ryght fast
To the dore she goth/redely and prest
And put therto/her doulce and softe brest
Openynge itso/for feare lest it shulde crake
And therwith/some of her kepars wake.

So out at the dore/gote preuely is she
And through the towne/alone is went
Into the fyldes/towarde the foresayd tre
O swete Thysbe/howe true was your entent
Howe curtesly your hart dyd assent
For the loue of gentyll Pyramus
To enterprise/a thynge so perillous.

Myghty loues power/here may we beholde
Proued on this goodly damosell
What but loue coude make her so bolde?
She feared nat/the sauage beestes fell
Wherto shulde I any longer dwell?
Upon her way she went styll apace
Castyng euer/towarde the appointed place.

One myght demaunde/who was her gyde
Bycause it was in the quyet nyght
I answere none/but the hygh lorde Cupide
Whose souerayne puysaunce/and great myght
Turneth obscure darkenesse/vnto lyght
He leadeth folkes/that way as he wyll
In great parilles/redy for to spyll.

So this lorde/of his myght and grace
Conduced Thysbe/in the wylde felde
Tyll she came vnto the foresayd place
Where she sate downe/vnder Morus selde
And as she sate/a ferre of she behelde
Towarde the wode/by lyght of the mone
A lyonesse/whiche towarde her dyd come.

This lyones/in the wode had slayne
A beest before/and deuoured hym also
And came to drynke/at the sayd fountayne
Where Thysbe sate alone with her no mo
For feare wherof/lyghtly she to go
Into a denne/that was there besyde
Swete Thysbe ran/her for to hyde.

(In moche perill/and great ieopardye
Thysbe was brought/by this sodayne fraye
For in that denne/wylde beestes vsed to lye)
For hast she fell/her kerchefe by the way
Whiche the lyones (as I haue harde say)
Founde. And in her blody mouthe toke
Rent/tore/and out agayne it shoke.

Than forthwith she ran into the wode
And as soone as euer she was gone
Pyram came/and founde the cloth all blode
His hart gan to be/as colde as any stone
Sayeng these wordes/with most pitous mone
O nyght thou losest/and art distruction
Of two yonge louers of Babylon.

Of whiche two/she that most worthy was
For to haue lyued/is deed fyrst of all
I am the cause/swete Thysbe (her alas)
That you ben slayne/of this beest truculentall
If I had come fyrst/than had it nat befall
O wretche that I am/to suffre swete Thysbe
To come alone/and here for to dye.

O ye moost cruell/and rabbysshe lions fell
Come nowe and teare/the corps of Pyramus
ye sauage beestes/that in these rockes dwell
If blode to you be so delicious
Come and gnawe/my wretched body dolorous
And on the kerchef/with face pale and tryst
He loked ofte/and it right swetely kyst.

With deedly syghes/his swerde out he drewe
Under the vmbre/of the forsayd tre
Wherwith shortly/hym owne selfe he slewe
Sayeng/take drynke nowe the blode of me
With whiche stroke/the blode (as it had be
Water spoutynge/out of a condite heed)
Spouted vp/whan he fell downe deed.

And with the blode/in suche wyse sprynklyng
The frute of the tre/whiche that before
Was white. Turned as blacke as any thynge
And the blode/that sanke to the more
Depeinted it/a fayre purple colore
Whiche vnto this day/so remayne
But nowe to Thysby/turne I wyll agayne.

All though her feare were neuer the las
yet bycause she wolde nat breke promesse
She came softly/towarde thappoynted place
Bothe mynde and eye/lokyng without cesse
For yonge Pyram/the floure of gentylnesse
She loked euer/her swete hart to se
Tyll she approched/and came vnder the tre.

Whan she behelde/the transformacion
Of the tre. She was right sore abasshed
And bycause it was in suche condicion
She thought it was nat/the place appoynted
But at last/as she more nerer loked
She sawe a corps/vpon the grounde lye
Newly slayne/tremblyng and all blody.

Wherwith she gan/to be as pale as leed
And stepped backe/a lyttell sodaynly
Incontinent she perceyued the corps deed
Was her owne swete hart/the noble Pyramy
O howe she gan moost piteously to crye
Her handes strayne/and her fyngers wrynge
Enragiously/her armes out castynge.

She rent and tore/her goodly youlowe heare
And toke the corps/in her armes twayne
Desperously/wepynge many a teare
Amonge the blode/of her louer slayne
Her bytter teares/lay as thycke as rayne
And ofte she kyssed/his deedly colde visage
Styll cryeng/as though she wolde enrage.

O swete Pyram/who hath taken you me fro?
O curtesse Pyram/speke nowe vnto me
I am thyn owne Thysby/full of wo
Here thy dere loue/that speketh vnto the
Lyfte ones vp thyn eyes Pyram me to se
And as she lay/this tomblyng on the grounde
At longe her kerchefe/in the blode she founde

Than she knewe/howe he deceyued was
By the kerchefe/and the lyonesse
Agayne she cryed/o Pyram her alas
For my loue/doure of gentylnesse
Haue slayne your selfe/in peinfull distresse
O swete Pyram/syth it is for my sake
Of my dolorous lyfe/suche ende shall I make.

Of ioye with you/parttaker haue I be
What tyme ye lyued/most curtes Pyramus
Shulde deth thau departe you and me?
With you to dye/I am ryght desyrous
O parentz parentz/of our deth reous
To you our bodyes/I bequeth and take
To bury togyther/for neuer we shall forsake.

O miserable tre/with thy bowes longe
Coueryng nowe/lyeng deed on the grounde
The noble Pyram/that whilom was so strouge
Thou shalt anone/of suche another wounde
Couer my corps. And in a littell stounde
She pulled the swerde out of Pyramy
And therwith slewe herselfe pyteously.

Thautor.

Than the damosell/that the storie tolde
Sygheh softe/and loked me vpon
Wherwith ye teares/downe on her chekes rolde
She had of theyr deth/so great compassion
That she was stryken in cogitacion
And stode a whyle/as one had ben dismayde
And these wordes/after to vs she sayd

The damosell.

O curtes Pyram/and swete Thysbe also
Herde was your fortune and destanye
your pitous deth/maketh myn hert wo
yet me thynke/I se your bodies lye
The tre and fountayne/ryght sorowfully
Unto this day/wepe and complayne
The lamentable dethe/of you louers twayne.

Here was true loue/who can it deny?
Here were the burnyng sparcles of Cupyde
Here were two hertes/closed in one truly
Here were two louers/nat swaruyng asyde
O cursed lyonesse/wo mote the betyde
Thou were the cause/that these louers twayne
Were so soone/thus miserably slayne.

O ye parentes/of these louers two
Why suffred you them/so for to spyll?
ye caused them/thether for to go
Wherof succeded/all their myschiefe and yll
ye myght haue had your goodly children styll
If ye had done/as reason doth require
To marry them/after theyr desyre.

These gentyls dyd/as christens nowe a day
Moost comonly/vse for to do
Whiche no doubt is/a moche cursed way
And causer of many yuels also
They marry/without consent of the two
Whiche mariage is nat worth an hawe
Damnable/and eke ayenst the lawe.

For to receyue this hygh sacrament
Is required moche solemnite
But one moost speciall/that is fre assent
Of both persones/of hye and lowe degre
Without whiche/mariage can nat be
Perfectly allowed/before the glorious face
Of the hygh god/in the celestiall place.

Whan two maried/ayenst their myndes be
What is the very true consequens?
Contynuall discorde/moost comenly wese
Braulyng/chidyng/and other inconuenience
And another/moost poysonfull pestilence
For therof right ofte/aduoutry doth succede
Murdre/and many a myscheuous dede.

We se oft tymes/whan two to gether come
By great loue/and longe continuaunce
yet of suche/there haue ben founde some
Whiche dayly haue ben at distaunce
To them selfe/and other great noyaunce
And coude by no meanes/togyther agre
And by deuorse/departed haue they be.

Than moche sooner/suche as by compulsion
Ben spoused/agaynst theyr owne fre wyll
Shulde nat do well. But to make relacion
Particlerly/of all and euery yll
That clamdestinat mariage doth fulfyll
I shulde than/to longe tary you twayne
Where I was/turne I shall agayne

Before this tyme/you bothe haue harde tell
Of the trojan knyght/called Troylus
And of Creseide/the goodly damosell
On whom he was so depely amorous
For whom he was/so heuy and dolorous
That had nat ben Pandare/his trusty frende
Of his lyfe/he had lyghtly made an ende.

For one syght he had/of that fresshe may
As he walked within the temple wyde
He loked as his hart/had ben pulde away
And coude nat moche longer there abyde
The fyrie dart/of the hygh lorde Cupyde
Had made in hym/so great and large a wounde
That lytell lacked/he fell nat to the grounde.

There was none so expert phisician
That coude cure or helpe his maladye
To serche the wounde/myght no surgian
It was impossible/to come therby
None coude cure/saue the faire lady
Creseide. On whom he loked oft
Syghyng depe/and gronyng lowe and softe.

What shulde I herof/longer processe make
Theyr great loue is wrytten all at longe
And howe he dyed onely for her sake
Out ornate Chaucer/other bokes amonge
In his lyfe dayes/dyd vnderfonge
To translate:and that most plesantly
Touchyng the mater/of the sayd story.

Of Cannace/somwhat wyll I tell
And of her brother/cleped Machareus
Howe Aeolous/her father ryght cruell
Made her dye a deth full pitous
But first she wrote/a pistoll dolorous
To her brother/of her wofull chaunce
These were her wordes to my remembraunce.

Cannace doughter/of Aeolous the kynge
Greteth Machare/her owne brother dere
In owne hande/a naked swerde holdynge
With the other writyng/as doth appere
In this epistoll that she sendeth here
Howe by naught els saue deth she can fynde
To content her fathers cruell mynde.

O my father most innaturall
This swerde to me his daughter hath he sende
With whiche swerde/shortly anone I shall
Of my lyfe and sorowe make an ende
To other pite/he wyll nat condiscende
Wherfore his fierce mynde to content
To slee my selfe I must nedes assent.

Thautor.

Than spake I/and wolde suffre her no more
Of this wofull mater/forther for to tell
Suche lamentable louers/greueth my hart sore
And also we coude nat moche longer dwell
Ryght glad was I/that it so happy fell
To here the hole of wofull Pyramus
Of her tolde/with gesture dolorous.

She wolde haue tolde/of many other mo
The great loue/and fatall destenye
Howe Phillis desolate/ofte alone wolde go
By hylles and dales/mornyng tenderly
For Demophon/and howe she dyd dye
But styll I prayed her to kepe silence
And leaue of her tragicall sentence.

A man that sweteth/and is very hote
Brought to the fyre/is nat well content
What I meane/euery man doth wote
yet for this/I wolde nothyng assent
That she had declared/appert and euydent
To our fyrst purpose/what loue shulde be
And wherupon/we gan to argue all thre.

The fyrst damosell/proued loue by reason
The other spake all by auctorite
Declaryng olde stories/of antique season
But to neyther of them wolde I agre
Without experience/proued can nat be
What is the myghty power of Cupyde
Whiche regneth through the great worlde wyde

Experience (sayd they) we desyre to here
What therby to proue/you entende
Than loked I on them/with sad chere
Castyng howe for to make an ende
Of our argument/and nat offende
Nother of them/through my negligence
For one of them/was myn experience.

Forsoth (I sayd) I nat howe it may be
But ones I behelde/with great affection
A fayre pusell/whiche happed yll for me
For neuer syth/by no compulsion
I coude nat put her in obliuion
Nor my mynde pulle from her away
Nor neuer shall/to myn endyng day.

With her regarde/and swete countenaunce
She gave me a great mortall wounde
Through whiche deth/dayly both auaunce
Towarde me/onely to confounde
My wretched corps:whiche in the grounde
Must of foule wormes be eate and gnawe
So condemned/by cruell loues lawe.

This lorde Cupide/lyst of his cruelte
Without reason/my body to turment
To mount an hylle/he constrayneth me
With his arowes/sharpe and violent
And me burnyng/with his brande ardent
yet vp the hyll/no way can be sought
To geat alone:so lowe am I brought.

O Hyppomenes/howe happy thou were?
What tyme thou wast so moche amorous
On Atalanta/that curtes damosell dere
For whose loue/ne had nat ben Venus
Thou shuldest haue dyed a deth ryght greuous
But by.iii.balles (that she the gaue) of golde
Thou gotest thy loue of truthe/as it is tolde

Clas suche socour/no where fynde I may
That me wyll helpe in myn heuynesse
And more encreaseth my sorowe day by day
Cruell thought on me doth neuer cesse
With feare and drede/my body to manesse
And with Dispeare/I haue so great stryfe
That gladly I wolde be reft of my lyfe

And than call I vnto the systers thre
To come out of their furious selle
And from my peyne to delyuer me
I care nat/though I with them shulde dwell
Or rauenyng wolues/hungry/fierse/and felle
My body gnawe/and to peces rent
To be losed/of my great turment.

O Pole wheron the great worlde rounde
Turneth about/by cours naturall
If a place may/vnder the be founde
I wolde gladly/therin that I shulde fall
O ye dogges/whiche to peces small
Tare Acreon/for Diana sake
I pray you of me an ende to make.

O crowes/rauons/and foules euerychone
What tyme my lyfe ended thus shalbe
Come than and take eche of you abone
And do beare them into what countre
Pleaseth you/for all is one to me
So I be out of this greuous payne
For any longer/I can it nat sustayne.

Wherwith dame Reason cometh vnto me
Very swetely lokynge in my face
With whom cometh other two or thre
Good Esperaunce/and the lady Grace
And reason begynneth for to chace
The lordens away/whiche before
Turmented my wretched body sore

Fyrst Reason to Disperaunce doth speke
Hym banysshyng out of our company
On hym she wolde gladly her angre wreke
But lady pacience standyng by
Sayeth to her very curtesly
ye must swetely shewe your selfe vntyll
This pacient here redy for to spyll.

Than by the hande Reason doth me take
Sayeng/what though the gentyle Hypsiphyle
Distroyed her selfe for prue Jasons sake
That ayenst his promes/dyd her begyle
Leape nat thou/tyll thou come to the style
For thou hast here nowe before thy face
(Whiche she lacked) the goodly lady Grace.

Reason.

Thou knowest after our hygh religion
Who that slee them selfe wylfully
By iuste sentence/of lastyng damnacion
Of helle. Be in great ieopardye
Wherfore I aduise the/loke theron wysely
Take nat example of/Dido and Myrra.
Nor yet of Phillis/Scylla/and Phedra.

I say to the as I sayd before
They lacked Grace/ye and me also
Whiche thou hast/and shalt haue euer more
In case that thou gladly woldest do
As we shall shewe the or that we go
Principally beware of Dispayre
In no wyse abyde that sower ayre.

Another/thou shalt kepe moderacion
In all thynges/that thou gost about
Both in gladnesse/and lamentacion
Beware of thought/the villayn bolde and stout
Of heuynesse/with theyr cruell route
Feare/drede/discomfort/and mystrust
Incline the neuer after their peruers lust.

What foly is it for a womans sake
Nat knowyng your corage nor entent
Suche lamentacion/and sorowe for to make
Perauenture her swete hart wolde assent
In all honour be at your comaundement
Wherfore fyrst/ye shulde by my counsell
Knowe the pleasure of the damosell.

Thautor.

To whiche counsell/accorden an agre
Desyre/and the curtes esperaunce
They two promesse/for to go with me
Dame fauour sayth she wyll so auaunce
With the helpe of prudent Gouernaunce
To solicite my mater in best wyse
And dame Discrecion shall it deuyse.

The good holsome lady Remembraunce
Sayth recorde/was nat worthy Theseus
The hye conquerour/delyuered fro myschaunce
By socour of two ladyes gratious
For hym they were so moche pitous
That they put them selfe/in dauger of moche yll
Hym for to saue/that he shulde nat spyll.

For he had ben put to the Minataurus
Without prouise/of these ladies twayne
Within the mase/made by Dedalus
All though he had/the hidous monstre slayne
yet coude he neuer come out therof agayne
But by the ladies subttle inuencion
He slewe the beest/and came out anone.

Thou hast redde/ryght many an history
Of ladies and damosels great bounte
And howe soone they ben inclyned to mercy
As was the curtes lady/Hypermestre
For nothyng perswaded wolde she be
For all her father myght do or say
She conueyed her loue and lorde away.

And bycause this lady wolde nat do
Scelerously/as dyd her systers all
Afterwarde she suffred moche wo
But no punyisshement/to her myght fall
That she ne thought the peyne very small
Suche ioye she had/of her spouse delyueraunce
That all her payne/to her was no greuaunce

Thus tender pite/in the hart feminall
Ronneth alway/vnto mannes defence
Theyr gentyll hertes/swete and liberall
Be lyghely turned/with great diligence
To mannes socour/and beneuolence
They speke/they praye/they labour and they go
Ryght tenderly/mannes profite for to do.

Thautor.

So these ladies/debated with me styll
In whole company I was ryght ioyous
And at last/they sayd me all vntyll
Be mery and glad thou louer dolorous
For thy loue is so moche gracious
That we thynke vnto thy desyre
She wyll obey/as thou wylt requyre.

Thautor.

Than call I/vnto my remembraunce
The great promesses/that Paris of Troye
Made to Heleyn/yet scant it was his chaunce
Her loue to gette/or her to enioye
All that he sayd was of perfect foye
He was a prince/and a kynges son also
yet longe it was/or she wolde with hym go.

Whan I mynde Echates/ye woman beautious
All my sorowe begynneth to renewe
She and the fayre yonge man/called Hyrus
Betoken howe my loue shall neuer rewe
Nor pite me. yet as Acontius vntrue
To her wyll I vse neyther fraude ne wyle
Lyke as he dyd Cydippes begyle.

Thus thought and feare/all the longe day
Turment me/tyll Phebus the hemyspery
Hath fally ronne/so that we may
Perceyue the blacke nyght aprochyng nye
To bedde I go/lasshe and eke wery
In hope some repose for to take
And by that meane/my payne for to slake.

Sone after/that I am downe layde
Morpheus/softely cometh to me
Who at the fyrst/maketh me afrayde
Tyll I knowe/what man he shulde be
He leadeth me where as I may se
My swete loue/vnto whom I wolde
Desyrously/ryght oft my mynde haue tolde.

And whan I haue ben about to speke
Cruell drede/hath stepped me before
He and feare/alway my purpose breke
yet her swete visage sheweth euermore
That of dame Pite/she knoweth well the lore
It can nat be/that her great beauty
Shulde be voyde/and without mercy.

Thus I stande debatyng a longe space
Than Morpheus/bryngeth me agayne
And whan I fynde me in the same place
Where I lay downe/with myn handes twayne
I graspe and fele/I sygh and complayne
And fynde it colde about me euery where
And perceyue that she was nat there.

O howe thought taketh me by the hert
And heuynesse/falleth me vpon
Those two from me wyll neuer departe
Tyll they make my body as colde as stone
They say to me/remedy is none
In this behalfe ferther to pursewe
For on me/my loue shall neuer rewe.

Thought and heuynesse.

Thou mayst here lye/sygh/sorowe and wayte
And on thy miserable state complayne
For her beautye/frendes/and apparayle
Causeth her to haue the in disdayne
She forceth nat/of thy wo and payne
She is a fresshe yonge swete creature
Well bequeynted/with the lady pleasure.

So stode the heuyns/whan thou were bore
And suche is thy fatall destenye
To loue one/whiche setteth lytell store
By the that art oppressed with mysery
What careth she/though thou for sorowe dye?
Or all thy lyfe/morne without a make
In wyldernesse/wandryng for her sake.

We haue tolde the ofte/and longe agone
That thy swete loue/fresshe and gorgious
Loketh to stande in grace of suche one
That may stipate/her port sumptuous
To sayle forth/with fame glorious
Lackyng nothyng/that dame Volunte
Wyll demaunde/longyng to Leberte.

For all thy lorde/who thou seruest so true
Whiche is the very blynde god Cupyde
Bearyng his signe/a face pale of hewe
As any ashes/wherto thou doest abyde
Vpholdyng it/with syghes large and wyde
yet we two shall do so moche our payne
Of Acrapos/shortly thou shalt be slayne.

Thautor.

Thus many a nyght/ofte I dryue away
Whiche me thynke longer than a yere
And whan I se the spryngynge of the day
yet somwhat gladed is my chere
For busynesse to me doth appere
Byddyng me to ryse and come lyghtly
Fye he sayth/vpon all sluggardy.

Than I ryse/and my clothes take
As preuely and soft as it may be
Wherwith diligence begynneth to awake
Whiche ones vp/a newe wyll turment me
And whan I can no other way se
With them I go/where they wyll me leade
For as than/I can no better reade.

Where euer I go/thought is neuer behynde
Nor heuynesse/they be alway present
To leaue them/I can no crafte fynde
For I beyng neuer so diligent
With busynesse/bothe mynde and eke entent
yet those two euer styll apeace
Come on me/my body to disease.

These two ofte/handle me so harde
That I am made lyke vnto a stone
To busynesse/hauyng no regarde
I leaue hym/and forth with anone
To some secrete place must I gone
A lytell whyle/my sorowe to complayne
From company/I do my selfe restrayne.

Than I begyn in this maner wyse
Lowe and softe/that none shulde here me
O Venus Venus/is this your cruell gyse?
Styll to turment vnto the extremite
My pore body/whiche as you may se
Is brought into so great miserye
That for loue/shortly must I dye.

The burnyng fyre of loue/doth me assayle
In suche wyse/that remedy is none
To quenche it/no water can auayle
Nor yet versus of cantacion
Of Pean/the artes euerychone
Nor of Mede/be nat worth a flye
I am condemned/and nedes must I dye.

Of all vnlucky/I most infortunate
Most sorowfull/most heuy and lamentable
What is my wretched body/lyfe/and state?
Nought els/but a thynge miserable
Replenisshed with paynes intollerable
To syghe/to sorowe/and morne tenderly
And by loue/condemned for to dye.

Of all louers/none can be founde
Whose case may well compared be
Vnto myn : through all the worlde rounde
Were out sought/yet shulde ye nat se
But that they had some felicite
But nought haue I/but all miserye
And by loue/condemned to dye.

Troylous/of whom men so moche tell
That he so great a louer was
Vnto hym/the case ryght happy fell
For in his armes ofte he dyd enbrace
His swete loue/and stode so in her grace
That nothyng to hym wolde she denye
But by loue/condemned I am to dye.

Many a nyght with his loue he lay
And in his armes/swetely can her holde
Of nothynge to hym sayd she nay
That he of her/aske or desyre wolde
His great ioy forsoth can nat be tolde
He had souerayne blysse/and I miserye
And by loue condemned for to dye.

What ioy had Paris we Heleyn ye fresshe quene?
Deyanira/with fierce Hercules
Briseis/the lady bryght and shene
With her lorde/the hardy Achilles
And Penelope/with her spouse Ulixes
Great gladnesse they had/with som miserye
I haue no ioy: and am condemned to dye.

Many a nyght/the friscant Leander
Lay also slept with his loue Herus
To passe Hellespont/she was his lode stere
And in all thynges to hym gracious
O these louers/fresshe and amorous
Ofte passed the tyme to gether ioyously
But by loue/condemned I am to dye.

Fayre Phillis/and eke Demophon
Had togyther ryght great felicite
So had the lady Sapho with Phaon
So had Machare/with his syster Canace
Dido with Aene/what ioy had she?
Ryght longe hym reteynyng curtesly
No ioy haue I/and am condemned to dye.

Myrra that loued her owne father dere
Wyckedly/by loue abhominable
Dyd so moche/that they lay both infere
All a nyght. doyng the dede damnable
Se howe Cupyde was fauorable
To her stynkyng loue/and transgression
And wyll me slee/for loyall affeccion.

Wherby I se/it is predestinate
Vnto me : most wretched creature
For to haue this miserable state
And infinite sorowe to endure
Or bate of all ioy/and eke pleasure
Full of luctuous syghes and misery
And vtterly condemned for to dye.

Wherfore adieu/all worldly vanite
Adieu frayle pleasure/rollynge lyke a ball
Adieu brytell trustes/that in this worlde be
Adieu I say/disceytes great and small
Adieu slipernesse styll redy for to fall
Lastly adieu/swete hert without mercye
For whose sake/I am condemned to dye.

Thautor to the two damosels.

Lo nowe you two/haue herde to the ende
What is loue/by suche experience
As I haue had. And nowe I you comende
Unto god/for I must depart hence
I thanke you hertely of your pacience
your curtesy/and eke your louyng chere
Of gentylnesse/that you haue made me here.

your chere here (they sayd) is but small
We wolde it were moche better for your sake
Our tanglynge/that to vs nowe hath fall
Wolde suffre vs/no chere for to make
And so theyr leaue/swetely of me they take
At the port or gate/and in they go
And I went strayght to my home also.

poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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WHY were ye Calliope embrawdered with letters of golde ?

CALLIOPE,
As ye may se,
Regent is she
Of poetes al,
Whiche gaue to me
The high degre
Laureat to be
Of fame royall ;
Whose name enrolde
With silke and golde
I dare be bolde
Thus for to were.
Of her I holde
And her householde ;
Though I waxe olde
And somdele sere,
Yet is she fayne,
Voyde of disdayn,
Me to retayn
Her seruiture :
With her certayne
I wyll remayne
As my souerayne
Moost of pleasure,
Maulqre touz malheureux.

poem by John Skelton
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The Tunning of Elenor Rumming

Tell you I chyll,
If that ye wyll
A whyle be styll,
Of a comely gyll
That dwelt on a hyll:
But she is not gryll,
For she is somwhat sage
And well worne in age;
For her vysage
It would aswage
A mannes courage.

Her lothely lere
Is nothynge clere,
But ugly of chere,
Droupy and drowsy,
Scurvy and lowsy;
Her face all bowsy,
Comely crynkled,
Woundersly wrynkled,
Lyke a rost pygges eare,
Brystled wyth here.

Her lewde lyppes twayne,
They slaver, men sayne,
Lyke a ropy rayne,
A gummy glayre:
She is ugly fayre;
Her nose somdele hoked,
And camously croked,
Never stoppynge,
But ever droppynge;
Her skynne lose and slacke,
Grained lyke a sacke;
With a croked backe.

Her eyen gowndy
Are full unsowndy,
For they are blered;
And she gray hered;
Jawed lyke a jetty;
A man would have pytty
To se how she is gumbed,
Fyngered and thumbed,
Gently joynted,
Gresed and annoynted
Up to the knockles;
The bones of her huckels
Lyke as they were with buckels
Togyther made fast:
Her youth is farre past:
Foted lyke a plane,
Legged lyke a crane;
And yet she wyll jet,
Lyke a jollyvet,
In her furred flocket,
And gray russet rocket,
With symper the cocket.
Her huke of Lyncole grene,
It had ben hers, I wene,
More then fourty yere;
And so doth it apere,
For the grene bare thredes
Loke lyke sere wedes,
Wyddered lyke hay,
The woll worne away;
And yet I dare saye
She thynketh herselfe gaye
Upon the holy daye,
Whan she doth her aray,
And gyrdeth in her gytes
Stytched and pranked with pletes;
Her kyrtel Brystow red,
With clothes upon her hed
That wey a sowe of led,
Wrythen in wonder wyse,
After the Sarasyns gyse
With a whym wham,
Knyt with a trym tram,
Upon her brayne pan,
Lyke an Egyptian,
Capped about:
When she goeth out
Herselfe for to shewe,
She dryveth downe the dewe
Wyth a payre of heles
As brode as two wheles;
She hobles as a gose
With her blanket hose
Over the falowe;
Her shone smered wyth talowe,
Gresed upon dyrt
That baudeth her skyrt.

Primus passus

And this comely dame,
I understande, her name
Is Elynour Rummynge,
At home in her wonnynge;
And as men say
She dwelt in Sothray,
In a certayne stede
Bysyde Lederhede.
She is a tonnysh gyb;
The devyll and she be syb.

But to make up my tale,
She breweth noppy ale,
And maketh therof port sale
To travellars, to tynkers,
To sweters, to swynkers,
And all good ale drynkers,
That wyll nothynge spare,
But drynke tyll they stare
And brynge themselfe bare,
With, "Now away the mare,
And let us sley care,
As wyse as an hare!"

Come who so wyll
To Elynour on the hyll,
Wyth, "Fyll the cup, fyll,"
And syt there by styll,
Erly and late:
Thyther cometh Kate,
Cysly, and Sare,
With theyr legges bare,
And also theyr fete,
Hardely, full unswete;
Wyth theyr heles dagged,
Theyr kyrtelles all to-jagged,
Theyr smockes all to-ragged,
Wyth titters and tatters,
Brynge dysshes and platters,
Wyth all theyr myght runnynge
To Elynour Rummynge,
To have of her tunnynge:
She leneth them on the same.
And thus begynneth the game.

Instede of coyne and monny,
Some brynge her a conny,
And some a pot with honny,
Some a salt, and some a spone,
Some theyr hose, some theyr shone;
Some ran a good trot
With a skellet or a pot;
Some fyll theyr pot full
Of good Lemster woll:
An huswyfe of trust,
Whan she is athrust,
Suche a webbe can spyn,
Her thryft is full thyn.

Some go streyght thyder,
Be it slaty or slyder;
They holde the hye waye,
They care not what men say,
Be that as be maye;
Some, lothe to be espyde,
Start in at the backe syde,
Over the hedge and pale,
And all for the good ale.

Some renne tyll they swete,
Brynge wyth them malte or whete,
And dame Elynour entrete
To byrle them of the best.

Than cometh an other gest;
She swered by the rode of rest,
Her lyppes are so drye,
Without drynke she must dye;
Therefore fyll it by and by,
And have here a pecke of ry.

Anone cometh another,
As drye as the other,
And wyth her doth brynge
Mele, salte, or other thynge,
Her harvest gyrdle, her weddyng rynge,
To pay for her scot
As cometh to her lot.
Som bryngeth her husbandes hood,
Because the ale is good;
Another brought her his cap
To offer to the ale-tap,
Wyth flaxe and wyth towe;
And some brought sowre dowe;
Wyth, "Hey, and wyth, Howe,
Syt we downe a-rowe,
And drynke tyll we blowe,
And pype tyrly tyrlowe!"

Some layde to pledge
Theyr hatchet and theyr wedge,
Theyr hekell and theyr rele,
Theyr rocke, theyr spynnyng whele;
And some went so narrowe,
They layde to pledge theyr wharrowe,
Theyr rybskyn and theyr spyndell,
Theyr nedell and theyr thymbell:
Here was scant thryft
Whan they made suche shyft

Theyr thrust was so great,
They asked never for mete,
But drynke, styll drynke,
"And let the cat wynke,
Let us washe our gommes
From the drye crommes!"

But some than sat ryght sad
That nothynge had
There of theyre awne,
Neyther gelt nor pawne;
Suche were there menny
That had not a penny,
But, whan they should walke,
Were fayne wyth a chalke
To score on the balke,
Or score on the tayle:
God gyve it yll hayle!
For my fyngers ytche;
I have wrytten to mytche
Of this mad mummynge
Of Elynour Rummynge:
Thus endeth the gest
Of this worthy fest!

Quod Skelton, Laureat.

poem by John Skelton
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The Auncient Acquaintance, Madam, Betwen Vs Twayn

The auncient acquaintance, madam, betwen vs twayn,
The famylyaryte, the formal dalyaunce,
Causyth me that I can not myself refrayne
But that I must wryte for my plesaunt pastaunce:
Remembryng your passying goodly countenaunce,
Your goodly port, your bewteous visage,
Ye may be countyd comfort of all corage.

Of all your feturs fauorable to make tru discripcion,
I am insuffycyent to make such enterpryse;
For thus dare I say, without [con]tradiccyon,
That dame Menolope was neuer half so wyse:
Yet so it is that a rumer begynneth for to ryse,
How in good horsmen ye set your hole delyght,
And haue forgoten your old trew louyng knyght.

Wyth bound and rebound, bounsyngly take vp
Hys jentyll curtoyl, and set nowght by small naggys!
Spur vp at the hynder gyrth, with Gup, morell, gup!
With, Jayst ye, jenet of Spayne, for your tayll waggys!
Ye cast all your corage vppon such courtly haggys.
Haue in sergeaunt ferrour, myne horse behynd is bare;
He rydeth well the horse, but he rydeth better the mare.

Ware, ware, the mare wynsyth wyth her wanton hele!
She kykyth with her kalkyns and keylyth with a clench;
She goyth wyde behynde, and hewyth neuer a dele:
Ware gallyng in the widders, ware of that wrenche!
It is perlous for a horseman to dyg in the trenche.
Thus greuyth your husband, that ryght jentyll knyght,
And so with youre seruantys he fersly doth fyght.

So fersly he fytyth, his mynde is so fell,
That he dryuyth them doune with dyntes on ther day wach;
He bresyth theyr braynpannys and makyth them to swell,
Theyre browys all to-brokyn, such clappys they cach;
Whose jalawsy malycyous makyth them to lepe the hach;
By theyr conusaunce knowing how they serue a wily py:
Ask all your neybours whether that I ly.

It can be no counsell that is cryed at the cros:
    For youre jentyll husband sorowfull am I;
How be it, he is not furst hath had a los:
Aduertysyng you, madame, to warke more secretly,
Let not all the world make an owtcry;
Play fayre play, madame, and loke ye play clene,
Or ells with gret shame your game wylbe sene.

Qd Skelton, laureat.

poem by John Skelton
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Tower Of London

Let me take you to trafalgar square
Let me take you there
Every streets a fashion catwalk
Everyones debonair
Let me take you to piccadilly
Guess it leads somewhere
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Yours and mine - tower of london!
Hip london! hip london!
Let me take you to st.jamess square
Let me groove you there
Diplomats get target practice
In the open air
Psychobillies scream blue murder
Then they hit mayfair
Tower over centuries, tower over london
Tower up and frankly Im amazed
Whats done cannot be undone, not here not in london
Whats done can never be erased
So, tower up! - its those little things
Make life interesting- tower of london!
Tower up! - wasting time
Precious time - tower of london!
Tower up! Ill meet you there
Ill be there - tower of london
New york! - dont make me laugh
Ive seen photographs - tower of london...

song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knoledge, Acquayntance, Resort, Fauour With Grace

Knoledge, acquayntance, resort, fauour with grace;
Delyte, desyre, respyte wyth lyberte;
Corage wyth lust, conuenient tyme and space;
Dysdayns, dystres, exylyd cruelte;
Wordys well set with good habylyte;
Demure demenaunce, womanly of porte;
Transendyng plesure, surmountyng all dysporte;

Allectuary arrectyd to redres
These feuerous axys, the dedely wo and payne
Of thoughtfull hertys plungyd in dystres;
Refresshyng myndys the Aprell shoure of rayne;
Condute of comforte, and well most souerayne;
Herber enverduryd, contynuall fressh and grene;
Of lusty somer the passyng goodly quene;

The topas rych and precyouse in vertew;
Your ruddys wyth ruddy rubys may compare;
Saphyre of sadnes, enuayned wyth indy blew;
The pullyshed perle youre whytenes doth declare;
Dyamand poyntyd to rase oute hartly care;
Geyne surfetous suspecte the emeraud commendable;
Relucent smaragd, obiecte imcomperable;

Encleryd myrroure and perspectyue most bryght,
Illumynyd wyth feturys far passyng my reporte;
Radyent Esperus, star of the clowdy nyght,
Lode star to lyght these louers to theyr porte,
Gayne dangerous stormys theyr anker of supporte,
Theyr sayll of solace most comfortably clad,
Whych to behold makyth heuy hartys glad:

Remorse haue I of youre most goodlyhod,
Of youre behauoure curtes and benynge,
Of your bownte and of youre womanhod,
Which makyth my hart oft to lepe and sprynge,
And to remember many a praty thynge;
But absens, alas, wyth tremelyng fere and drede
Abashyth me, albeit I haue no nede.

You I assure, absens is my fo,
My dedely wo, my paynfull heuynes;
And if ye lyst to know the cause why so,
Open myne hart, beholde my mynde expres:
I wold ye coud ! then shuld ye se, mastres,
How there nys thynge that I couet so fayne
As to enbrace you in myne armys twayne.

Nothynge yerthly to me more desyrous
Than to beholde youre bewteouse countenaunce:
But, hatefull absens, to me so enuyous,
Though thou withdraw me from her by long dystaunce,
Yet shall she neuer oute of remembraunce;
For I haue grauyd her wythin the secret wall
Of my trew hart, to loue her best of all!

Qd Skelton, laureat.

poem by John Skelton
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Childe Waters

Childe Waters in his stable stoode
And stroakt his milke-white steede;
To him a fayre yonge ladye came
As ever ware womans weede.

Sayes, 'Christ you save, good Childe Waters,'
Sayes, 'Christ you save and see;
My girdle of gold that was too longe,
Is now too short for mee.

'And all is with one childe of yours
I feele sturre at my side;
My gowne of greene it is too straighte;
Before, it was too wide.'

'If the childe be mine, faire Ellen,' he sayd,
'Be mine, as you tell mee,
Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,
Take them your owne to bee.

'If the childe be mine, faire Ellen,' he sayd,
'Be mine, as you doe sweare,
Then take you Cheshire and Lancashire both,
And make that childe your heyre.'

Shee sayes, 'I had rather have one kisse,
Childe Waters, of thy mouth,
Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,
That lye by north and southe.

'And I had rather have one twinkling,
Childe Waters, of thine ee,
Than I wolde have Cheshire and Lancashire both,
To take them mine owne to bee.'

'To-morrowe, Ellen, I must forth ryde
Farr into the north countree;
The fayrest ladye that I can finde,
Ellen, must goe with mee.'

''Thoughe I am not that ladye fayre,
Yet let me goe with thee:'
And ever I pray you, Childe Waters,
Your foot-page let me bee.'

'If you will my foot-page bee, Ellen,
As you doe tell to mee,
Then you must cut your gowne of greene
An inch above your knee:

'Soe must you doe your yellowe lockes,
An inch above your ee;
You must tell no man what is my name;
My foot-page then you shall bee.'

Shee, all the longe daye Childe Waters rode,
Ran barefoote by his syde,
Yet was he never soe courteous a knighte,
To say, 'Ellen, will you ryde?'

Shee, all the long daye Childe Waters rode,
Ran barefoote thorow the broome,
Yet was hee never soe courteous a knighte,
To say, 'put on your shoone.'

'Ride softlye,' shee sayd, 'O Childe Waters,
Why doe you ryde so fast?
The childe, which is no mans but thine,
My bodye itt will brast.'

Hee sayth, 'Seest thou yonder water, Ellen,
That flows from banke to brimme?' -
'I trust in God, O Childe Waters,
You never will see me swimme.'

But when shee came to the water side,
She sayled to the chinne:
'Nowe the Lord of heaven be my speede,
For I must learne to swimme.'

The salt waters bare up her clothes;
Our Ladye bare up her chinne;
Childe Waters was a woeman, good Lord,
To see faire Ellen swimme!

And when shee over the water was,
Shee then came to his knee:
Hee sayd, 'Come hither, thou fayre Ellen,
Loe yonder what I see.

'Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
Of redd gold shines the yate:
Of twenty-foure faire ladyes there,
The fairest is my mate.

'Seest thou not yonder hall, Ellen?
Of redd golde shines the towre:
There are twenty-four fayre ladyes there,
The fayrest is my paramoure.'

'I see the hall now, Childe Waters,
Of redd golde shines the yate:
God give you good now of yourselfe,
And of your worthye mate.

'I see the hall now, Childe Waters,
Of redd golde shines the towre:
God give you good now of yourselfe,
And of your paramoure.'

There twenty-four fayre ladyes were
A playing at the ball,
And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,
Must bring his steed to the stall.

There twenty-four fayre ladyes were
A playinge at the chesse,
And Ellen, the fayrest ladye there,
Must bring his horse to gresse.

And then bespake Childe Waters sister,
These were the wordes sayd shee:
'You have the prettyest page, brother,
That ever I did see;

'But that his bellye it is so bigge,
His girdle stands soe hye;
And ever I pray you, Childe Waters,
Let him in my chamber lye.'

'It is not fit for a little foot-page,
That has run throughe mosse and myre,
To lye in the chamber of any ladye,
That weares soe riche attyre.

'It is more meete for a little foot-page,
That has run throughe moss and myre,
To take his supper upon his knee,
And lye by the kitchen fyre.'

Now when they had supped every one,
To bedd they tooke theyr waye:
He sayd, 'Come hither, my little foot-page,
And hearken what I saye.

'Goe thee downe into yonder towne,
And lowe into the streete;
The fayrest ladye that thou canst finde,
Hyre in mine armes to sleepe;
And take her up in thine armes twaine,
For filing of her feete.'

Ellen is gone into the towne,
And lowe into the streete;
The fayrest ladye that shee colde finde
She hyred in his armes to sleepe;
And tooke her up in her armes twaine,
For filing of her feete.

'I praye you nowe, good Childe Waters,
Let mee lye at your feete;
For there is noe place about this house,
Where I may 'saye a sleepe.'

'He gave her leave, and fair Ellen
'Down at his beds feet laye;
This done the nighte drove on apace,
And when it was neare the daye,

Hee sayd, 'Rise up, my little foot-page,
Give my steede corne and haye;
And give him nowe the good black oates,
To carry mee better awaye.'

Up then rose the faire Ellen,
And gave his steed corne and haye;
And soe shee did the good black oates,
To carry him the better awaye.

She leaned her back to the manger side,
And grievouslye did groane;
She leaned her back to the manger side,
And there shee made her moane.

And that beheard his mother deare,
Shee heard 'her woefull woe:'
She sayd, 'Rise up, thou Childe Waters,
And into thy stable goe.

'For in thy stable is a ghost,
That grievouslye doth grone;
Or else some woman laboures with childe,
Shee is soe woe-begone.'

Up then rose Childe Waters soone,
And did on his shirte of silke;
And then he put on his other clothes,
On his bodye as white as milke.

And when he came to the stable dore,
Full still there hee did stand,
That hee mighte heare his fayre Ellen,
Howe shee made her monand.

She sayd, 'Lullabye, mine own dear childe,
Lullabye, deare childe, deare;
I wolde thy father were a kinge,
Thy mothere ladye on a biere.'

'Peace nowe,' hee sayd, 'good, faire Ellen,
Bee of good cheere, I praye;
And the bridale and the churchinge bothe
Shall bee upon one daye.'

poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bristowe Tragedie: Or The Dethe Of Syr Charles Badwin

THE featherd songster chaunticleer
Han wounde hys bugle horne,
And tolde the earlie villager
The commynge of the morne.
Kynge EDWARDE sawe the ruddie streakes
Of lyghte eclypse the greie;
And herde the raven's crokynge throte
Proclayme the fated daie.
'Thou'rt ryght,' quod hee, 'for, by the Godde
That syttes enthron'd on hyghe!
CHARLES BAWDIN, and hys fellowes twain,
To-daie shall surelie die.
Thenne wythe a jugge of nappy ale
Hys Knyghtes dydd onne hymm waite;
'Goe tell the traytour, thatt to-daie
'Hee leaves thys mortall state.'
Syr CANTERLONE thenne bendedd low;
Wythe harte brymm-fulle of woe;
Hee journey'd to the castle-gate,
And to Syr CHARLES dydd goe.
Butt whenne hee came, hys children twaine,
And eke hys lovynge wyfe,
Wythe brinie tears dydd wett the floore,
For goode Syr CHARLESES lyfe.
'O goode Syr CHARLES!' sayd CANTERLONE,
'Badde tydyngs I doe brynge.'
'Speke boldlie, manne,' sayd brave Syr CHARLES,
'Whatte says thie traytor kynge?'
'I greeve to telle, before yonne sonne
Does fromme the welkinn flye,
Hee hath uponne hys honour sworne,
Thatt thou thalt surelie die.'
'Wee all must die, quod brave Syr CHARLES;
'Of thatte I'm not affearde;
'Whatte bootes to lyve a little space?
'Thanke JESU, I'm prepar'd.
'Butt telle thye kynge, for myne hee's not,
'I'de sooner die to-daie
'Thanne lyve hys slave, as manie are,
'Tho' I shoulde lyve for aie.'
Thenne CANTERLONE hee dydd goe out,
To telle the maior straite
To gett all thynges ynne reddyness
For goode Syr CHARLESES fate.
Thenne Maisterr CANYNGE saughte the kynge,
And felle down onne hys knee;
'I'm come,' quod hee, 'unto your grace
'To move your clemencye.'
Thenne quod the kynge, 'Youre tale speke out,
'You have been much oure friende;
'Whatever youre request may bee,
'Wee wylle to ytte attende.'
'My nobile leige! alle my request
'Ys for a nobile knyghte,
'Who, tho' may hap hee has donne wronge,
'He thoghte ytte stylle was ryghte.
'Hee has a spouse and children twaine,
'Alle rewyn'd are for aie;
'Yff thatt you are resolv'd to lett
'CHARLES BAWDIN die to-daie.'
'Speke nott of such a traytour vile,'
The kynge ynne furie sayde;
'Before the evening starre doth sheene,
'BAWDIN shall loose hys hedde.
'Justice does loudlie for hym calle,
'And hee shalle have hys meede:
'Speke, Maister CANYNGE! Whatte thynge else
'Att present doe you neede?
'My nobile leige!' goode CANYNGE sayde,
'Leave justice to our Godde,
'And laye the yronne rule asyde;
'Be thyne the olyve rodde.
'Was Godde to serche our hertes and reines,
'The best were synners grete;
'CHRIST'S vycarr only knowes ne synne,
'Ynne alle thys mortall state.
'Lett mercie rule thyne infante reign;
''Twylle faste thye crowne fulle sure;
'From race to race thy familie
'Alle sov'reigns shall endure.
'But yff wythe bloode and slaughter thou
'Beginne thy infante reign;
'Thy crowne uponne thy childrennes brows
'Wylle never long remayne.'
'CANYNGE, awaie! thys traytour vile
'Has scorn'd my power and mee;
'Howe canst thou thenne for such a manne
'Intreate my clemencye?'
'My nobile leige! the trulie brave
'Wylle val'rous actions prize,
'Respect a brave and nobile mynde,
'Altho' ynne enemies.'
'CANYNGE, awale! By Godde ynne Heav'n
'Thatt dydd mee beinge gyve,
'I wylle nott taste a bitt of breade
'Whilst thys Syr CHARLES dothe lyve.
'By MARIE, and alle Seinctes ynne Heav'n,
'Thys sunne shall be hys laste.'
Thenne CANYNGE dropt a brinie teare,
And from the presence paste.
Wyth herte brymm-fulle of gnawynge grief,
Hee to Syr CHARLES dydd goe,
And satt hymm downe uponne a stoole,
And teares beganne to flowe.
'Wee all must die,' quod brave Syr CHARLES;
'Whatte bootes ytte howe or whenne;
'Dethe ys the sure, the certaine fate
'Of all wee mortall menne.
'Saye why, my friend, thie honest soul
'Runns overr att thyne eye;
'Is ytte for my most welcome doome
'Thatt thou dost child-lyke crye?
Quod godlie CANYNGE, 'I doe weepe,
'Thatt thou so soone must dye;
'And leave thy sonnes and helpless wyfe;
''Tys thys thatt wettes myne eye.'
'Thenne drie the tears thatt out thyne eye
'From godlie fountaines sprynge;
'Dethe I despise, and alle the power
'Of EDWARDE, traytor kynge.
'Whan throgh the tyrant's welcom means
'I shall resigne my lyfe,
'The Godde I serve wylle soone provyde
'For bothe mye sonnes and wyfe.'
'Before I sawe the lyghtsome sunne,
'Thys was appointed mee;
'Shall mortal manne repyne or grudge
'Whatt Godde ordeynes to bee?
'Howe oft ynne battaile have I stoode,
'Whan thousands dy'd arounde;
'Whan smokynge streemes of crimson bloode
'Imbrew'd the fatten'd grounde.
'How dydd I knowe thatt ev'ry darte,
'Thatt cutte the airie waie,
'Myghte nott fynde passage toe my harte,
'And close myne eyes for aie?
'And shall I nowe, forr feere of dethe,
'Looke wanne and bee dysmayde?
'No! fromm my herte flie childyshe feere,
'Bee alle the manne display'd.
'Ah, goddelyke HENRIE! Godde forefende,
'And guarde thee and thye sonne,
'Yff 'tis hys wylle, but yff 'tis nott,
'Why thenne hys wylle bee donne.
'My honest friende, my faulte has beene
'To serve Godde and mye prynce;
'And thatt I no tyme-server am,
'My dethe wylle soone convynce.
'Ynne Londonne citye was I born;
'Of parents of grete note;
'My fadre dydd a nobile armes
'Emblazon onne hys cote.
'I make ne doubte butt hee ys gone
'Where soone I hope to goe;
'Where wee for ever shall bee blest,
'From oute the reech of woe
'Hee taughte mee justice and the laws
'Wyth pitie to unite;
'And eke hee taughte mee howe to knowe
'The wronge cause fromm the ryghte.
'Hee taughte mee wythe a prudent hande
'To feede the hungrie poore,
'Ne lett mye sarvants dryve awaie
'The hungrie fromme my doore.
'And none can saye, butt alle mye lyfe
'I have hys wordyes kept;
'And summ'd the actyonns of the daie
'Eche nyghte before I slept.
'I have a spouse, goe aske of her,
'Yff I defyl'd her bedde?
'I have a kynge, and none can laie
'Blacke treason onne my hedde.
'Ynne Lent, and onne the holie eve,
'Fromm fleshe I dydd refrayne;
'Whie should I thenne appeare dismay'd
'To leave thys worlde of payne?
'Ne! hapless HENRIE! I rejoyce,
'I shalle ne see thye dethe;
'Moste willynglie ynne thye just cause
'Doe I resign my brethe.
'Oh, fickle people! rewyn'd londe!
'Thou wylt kenne peace ne moe;
'Whyle RICHARD'S sonnes exalt themselyes,
'Thye brookes wythe bloude wylle flowe.
'Saie, were ye tyr'd of godlie peace,
'And godlie HENRIE'S reigne,
'Thatt you dydd choppe youre easie daies
'For those of bloude and peyne?
'Whatte tho' I onne a sledde bee drawne,
'And mangled by a hynde,
'I doe defye the traytor's pow'r,
'Hee can ne harm my mynde;
'Whatte tho', uphoisted onne a pole,
'Mye lymbes shall rotte ynne ayre,
'And ne ryche monument of brasse
'CHARLES BAWDIN'S name shall bear;
'Yett ynne the holie booke above,
'Whyche tyme can't eate awaie,
'There wythe the sarvants of the Lorde
'Mye name shall lyve for aie.
'Thenne welcome dethe! for lyfe eterne
'I leave thys mortall lyfe
'Farewell, vayne worlde, and all that's deare,
'Mye sonnes and lovynge wyfe!
'Nowe dethe as welcome to mee comes,
'As e'er the moneth of Maie;
'Nor woulde I even wyshe to lyve,
'Wyth my dere wyfe to staie.
Quod CANYGE, 'Tys a goodlie thynge
'To bee prepar'd to die;
'And from thys world of peyne and grefe
'To Godde ynne Heav'n to flie.'
And nowe the bell beganne to tolle,
And claryonnes to sounde;
Syr CHARLES hee herde the horses feete
A prauncyng onne the grounde.
And just before the officers,
His lovynge wyfe came ynne,
Weepynge unfeigned teeres of woe,
Wythe loude and dysmalle dynne.
'Sweet FLORENCE! nowe I praie forbere
'Ynne quiet lett mee die;
'Praie Godde, thatt ev'ry Christian soule
'Maye looke onne dethe as I.
'Sweet FLORENCE! why these brinie teeres?
'Theye washe my soule awaie,
'And almost make mee wyshe for lyfe,
'Wyth thee, sweete dame, to staie.
''Tys butt a journie I shall goe
'Untoe the lande of blysse;
'Nowe, as a proof of husbande's love,
'Receive thys holie kysse.'
Thenne FLORENCE, fault'ring ynne her saie,
Tremblynge these wordyes spoke,
'Ah, cruele EDWARDE! bloudie kynge!
'My herte ys welle nyghe broke.
'Ah, sweete Syr CHARLES! why wylt thou goe,
'Wythoute thye lovynge wyfe?
'The cruelle axe thatt cuttes thye necke,
'Ytte eke shall ende mye lyfe.'
And nowe the officers came ynne
To brynge Syr CHARLES awaie
Whoe turnedd toe his lovynge wyfe,
And thus toe her dydd saie
'I goe to lyfe, and nott to dethe;
'Truste thou ynne Godde above,
'And teache thye sonnes to feare the Lorde,
'And ynne theyre hertes hym love.
'Teache them to runne the nobile race
'Thatt I theyre fader runne:
'FLORENCE! shou'd dethe thee take -- adieu!
'Yee officers, leade onne.'
Thenne FLORENCE rav'd as anie madde,
And dydd her tresses tere;
'Oh! staie, mye husbande! lorde! and lyfe!' --
Syr CHARLES thenne dropt a teare.
'Tyll tyredd oute wythe ravynge loud,
Shee fellen onne the floore;
Syr CHARLES exerted alle hys myghte,
And march'd fromm oute the dore.
Uponne a sledde hee mounted thenne
Wythe lookes fulle brave and swete;
Lookes, thatt enshone ne moe concern
Thanne anie ynne the strete.
Before hym went the council-menne,
Ynne scarlett robes and golde
And tassils spanglynge ynne the sunne,
Muche glorious to beholde.
The Freers of Seincte AUGUSTYNE next
Appeared to the fyghte,
Alle cladd ynne homelie russett weedes,
Of godlie monkysh plyghte.
Ynne diffraunt parts a godlie psaume
Moste sweetlie theye dydd chaunt;
Behynde theyre backes syx mynstrelles came,
Who tun'd the strunge bataunt.
Thenne fyve-and-twentye archers came;
Echone the bowe dydd bende,
From rescue of kynge HENRIES friends
Syr CHARLES forr to defend.
Bolde as a lyon came Syr CHARLES;
Drawne onne a clothe-layde sledde,
Bye two blacke stedes ynne trappynges white,
Wyth plumes uponne theyre hedde.
Behynde hym fyve-and-twentye moe
Of archers stronge and stoute,
Wyth bended bowe echone ynne hande,
Marched ynne goodlie route.
Seincte JAMESES Freers marched next,
Echone hys parte dydd chaunt;
Behynde theyre backs syx mynstrelles came,
Who tun'd the strunge bataunt.
Thenne came the maior and eldermenne,
Ynne clothe of scarlett deck't;
And theyre attendyng menne echone,
Lyke Easterne princes trickt.
And after them, a multitude
Of citizenns dydd thronge;
The wyndowes were alle fulle of heddes,
As hee dydd passe alonge.
And whenne hee came to the hyghe crosse,
Syr CHARLES dydd turne and saie,
O Thou, thatt savest manne fromme synne,
Wasshe mye soule clean thys daie!
Att the grete mynsterr wyndowe sat
The kynge ynne myckle state,
To see CHARLES BAWDIN goe alonge,
To hys most welcom fate.
Soone as the sledde drewe nyghe enowe,
Thatt EDWARDE hee myghte heare,
The brave Syr CHARLES hee dydd stande uppe,
And thus hys wordes declare.
'Thou seest me; EDWARDE! traytour vile!
'Expos'd to infamie;
'Butt bee assur'd, disloyall manne
'I'm greaterr nowe thanne thee.
'Bye foule proceedyngs, murdre, bloude,
'Thou wearest nowe a crowne;
'And hast appoynted mee to dye,
'By power nott thyne owne.
'Thou thynkest I shall dye to-daie;
'I have beene dede 'till nowe,
'And soone shall lyve to weare a crowne
'For aie uponne my browe:
'Whylst thou, perhapps, for som few yeares,
'Shalt rule thys fickle lande,
'To lett them knowe howe wyde the rule
'Twixt kynge and tyrant hande:
'Thye pow'r unjust, thou traytour slave!
'Shall falle onne thye owne hedde --'
Fromm out of hearyng of the kynge
Departed thenne the sledde.
Kynge EDWARDE'S soule rush'd to hys face,
Hee turn'd hys hedde awaie,
And to hys broder GLOUCESTER
Hee thus dydd speke and saie.
'To hym that soe-much-dreaded dethe
'Ne ghastlie terrors brynge,
'Beholde the manne! hee spake the truthe,
'Hee's greater thanne a kynge!
'Soe lett hym die!' Duke RICHARD sayde;
'And maye echone oure foes
'Bende downe theyre neckes to bloudie axe,
'And feede the carryon crowes.
And nowe the horses gentlie drewe
Syr CHARLES uppe the hyghe hylle;
The axe dydd glysterr ynne the sunne,
Hys pretious bloude to spylle.
Syrr CHARLES dydd uppe the scaffold goe,
As uppe a gilded carre
Of victorye, bye val'rous chiefs
Gayn'd ynne the bloudie warre.
And to the people hee dydd saie,
'Beholde you see mee dye;
'For servynge loyally mye kynge,
'Mye kynge most rightfullie.
As longe as EDWARDE rules thys lande,
'Ne quiet you wylle knowe;
'Youre sonnes and husbandes shalle bee slayne,
'And brookes wythe bloude shalle flowe.
'You leave youre goode and lawfulle kynge,
'Whenne ynne adversitye;
'Lyke mee, untoe the true cause stycke,
'And for the true cause dye.
Thenne hee, wyth preestes, uponne hys knees,
A pray'r to Godde dydd make,
Beseechynge hym unto hymselfe
Hys partynge soule to take.
Thenne, kneelynge downe, hee layd hys hedde
Most seemlie onne the blocke;
Whyche fromme hys bodie fayre at once
The able heddes-manne stroke:
And oute the bloude beganne to flowe,
And rounde the scaffolde twyne;
And teares, enow to washe't awaie,
Dydd flowe fromme each mann's eyne.
The bloudie axe hys bodie fayre
Ynnto foure parties cutte;
And ev'rye parte, and eke hys hedde,
Uponne a pole was putte.
One parte dydd rotte onne Kynwulph-hylle,
One onne the mynster-tower,
And one from off the castle-gate
The crowen dydd devoure:
The other onne Seyncte Powle's goode gate,
A dreery spectacle;
Hys hedde was plac'd onne the hyghe crosse,
Ynne hyghe-streete most nobile.
Thus was the ende of BAWDIN'S fate:
Godde prosper longe oure kynge,
And grante hee maye, wyth BAWDIN'S soule,
Ynne heav'n Godd's mercie synge!