Chapter 16

I.To you, welle of honour and worthinesse,Our Cristen king, the heir and successourUn-to Justinians devout tendrenesseIn the feith of Jesu, our redemptour;5And to you, lordes of the Garter, 'flourOf chevalrye,' as men you clepe and calle;The lord of vertu and of grace auctourGraunte the fruit of your loos never appalle!O lige lord, that han eek the lyknesse10Of Constantyn, th'ensaumple and the mirourTo princes alle, in love and buxumnesseTo holy chirche, O verray sustenourAnd piler of our feith, and werreyourAgeyn the heresyës bitter galle,15Do forth, do forth, continue your socour!Hold up Cristes baner; lat it nat falle!This yle, or this, had been but hethenesse,Nad been of your feith the force and vigour!And yit, this day, the feendes fikilnesse20Weneth fully to cacche a tyme and hourTo have on us, your liges, a sharp shour,And to his servitude us knitte and thralle.But ay we truste in you, our prótectour;On your constaunce we awayten alle.25Commandeth that no wight have hardinesse,O worthy king, our Cristen emperour,Of the feith to despute more or lesseOpenly among people, wher errourSpringeth al day and engendreth rumour.30Maketh swich lawe, and for aught may befalle,Observe it wel; ther-to be ye dettour.Doth so, and god in glorie shal you stalle.II.Ye lordes eek, shyninge in noble fame,To whiche appropred is the maintenaunce35Of Cristes cause; in honour of his nameShove on, and putte his foos to the outrance!God wolde so; so wolde eek your ligeaunce;To tho two prikketh you your duëtee.Who-so nat kepeth this double observaunce40Of merit and honour naked is he!Your style seith that ye ben foos to shame;Now kythe of your feith the perséveraunce,In which an heep of us arn halte and lame.Our Cristen king of England and of Fraunce,45And ye, my lordes, with your alliaunce,And other feithful people that ther be(Truste I to god) shul quenche al this nuisaunceAnd this land sette in hy prosperitee.Conquest of hy prowesse is for to tame50The wilde woodnesse of this mescreaunce;Right to the rote repe ye that same!Slepe nat this, but, for goddes plesaunceAnd his modres, and in signifiaunceThat ye ben of seint Georges liveree,55Doth him servyce and knightly obeisaunce;For Cristes cause is his, wel knowen ye!Stif stande in that, and ye shul greve and grameThe fo to pees, the norice of distaunce;That now is ernest, torne it into game;60Dampnáble fro feith werë variaunce!Lord lige, and lordes, have in rémembraunce,Lord of al is the blessed Trinitee,Of whos vertu the mighty habundaunceYou herte and strengthe in feithful unitee! Amen.Cest tout.

To you, welle of honour and worthinesse,Our Cristen king, the heir and successourUn-to Justinians devout tendrenesseIn the feith of Jesu, our redemptour;5And to you, lordes of the Garter, 'flourOf chevalrye,' as men you clepe and calle;The lord of vertu and of grace auctourGraunte the fruit of your loos never appalle!

To you, welle of honour and worthinesse,

Our Cristen king, the heir and successour

Un-to Justinians devout tendrenesse

In the feith of Jesu, our redemptour;

And to you, lordes of the Garter, 'flour

Of chevalrye,' as men you clepe and calle;

The lord of vertu and of grace auctour

Graunte the fruit of your loos never appalle!

O lige lord, that han eek the lyknesse10Of Constantyn, th'ensaumple and the mirourTo princes alle, in love and buxumnesseTo holy chirche, O verray sustenourAnd piler of our feith, and werreyourAgeyn the heresyës bitter galle,15Do forth, do forth, continue your socour!Hold up Cristes baner; lat it nat falle!

O lige lord, that han eek the lyknesse

Of Constantyn, th'ensaumple and the mirour

To princes alle, in love and buxumnesse

To holy chirche, O verray sustenour

And piler of our feith, and werreyour

Ageyn the heresyës bitter galle,

Do forth, do forth, continue your socour!

Hold up Cristes baner; lat it nat falle!

This yle, or this, had been but hethenesse,Nad been of your feith the force and vigour!And yit, this day, the feendes fikilnesse20Weneth fully to cacche a tyme and hourTo have on us, your liges, a sharp shour,And to his servitude us knitte and thralle.But ay we truste in you, our prótectour;On your constaunce we awayten alle.

This yle, or this, had been but hethenesse,

Nad been of your feith the force and vigour!

And yit, this day, the feendes fikilnesse

Weneth fully to cacche a tyme and hour

To have on us, your liges, a sharp shour,

And to his servitude us knitte and thralle.

But ay we truste in you, our prótectour;

On your constaunce we awayten alle.

25Commandeth that no wight have hardinesse,O worthy king, our Cristen emperour,Of the feith to despute more or lesseOpenly among people, wher errourSpringeth al day and engendreth rumour.30Maketh swich lawe, and for aught may befalle,Observe it wel; ther-to be ye dettour.Doth so, and god in glorie shal you stalle.

Commandeth that no wight have hardinesse,

O worthy king, our Cristen emperour,

Of the feith to despute more or lesse

Openly among people, wher errour

Springeth al day and engendreth rumour.

Maketh swich lawe, and for aught may befalle,

Observe it wel; ther-to be ye dettour.

Doth so, and god in glorie shal you stalle.

II.

Ye lordes eek, shyninge in noble fame,To whiche appropred is the maintenaunce35Of Cristes cause; in honour of his nameShove on, and putte his foos to the outrance!God wolde so; so wolde eek your ligeaunce;To tho two prikketh you your duëtee.Who-so nat kepeth this double observaunce40Of merit and honour naked is he!

Ye lordes eek, shyninge in noble fame,

To whiche appropred is the maintenaunce

Of Cristes cause; in honour of his name

Shove on, and putte his foos to the outrance!

God wolde so; so wolde eek your ligeaunce;

To tho two prikketh you your duëtee.

Who-so nat kepeth this double observaunce

Of merit and honour naked is he!

Your style seith that ye ben foos to shame;Now kythe of your feith the perséveraunce,In which an heep of us arn halte and lame.Our Cristen king of England and of Fraunce,45And ye, my lordes, with your alliaunce,And other feithful people that ther be(Truste I to god) shul quenche al this nuisaunceAnd this land sette in hy prosperitee.

Your style seith that ye ben foos to shame;

Now kythe of your feith the perséveraunce,

In which an heep of us arn halte and lame.

Our Cristen king of England and of Fraunce,

And ye, my lordes, with your alliaunce,

And other feithful people that ther be

(Truste I to god) shul quenche al this nuisaunce

And this land sette in hy prosperitee.

Conquest of hy prowesse is for to tame50The wilde woodnesse of this mescreaunce;Right to the rote repe ye that same!Slepe nat this, but, for goddes plesaunceAnd his modres, and in signifiaunceThat ye ben of seint Georges liveree,55Doth him servyce and knightly obeisaunce;For Cristes cause is his, wel knowen ye!

Conquest of hy prowesse is for to tame

The wilde woodnesse of this mescreaunce;

Right to the rote repe ye that same!

Slepe nat this, but, for goddes plesaunce

And his modres, and in signifiaunce

That ye ben of seint Georges liveree,

Doth him servyce and knightly obeisaunce;

For Cristes cause is his, wel knowen ye!

Stif stande in that, and ye shul greve and grameThe fo to pees, the norice of distaunce;That now is ernest, torne it into game;60Dampnáble fro feith werë variaunce!Lord lige, and lordes, have in rémembraunce,Lord of al is the blessed Trinitee,Of whos vertu the mighty habundaunceYou herte and strengthe in feithful unitee! Amen.

Stif stande in that, and ye shul greve and grame

The fo to pees, the norice of distaunce;

That now is ernest, torne it into game;

Dampnáble fro feith werë variaunce!

Lord lige, and lordes, have in rémembraunce,

Lord of al is the blessed Trinitee,

Of whos vertu the mighty habundaunce

You herte and strengthe in feithful unitee! Amen.

Cest tout.

FromP. (Phillipps 8151);also inEd. (ed. 1542). 1. Ed. honour; P. honur. 2. P. Our right cristen; Ed.om.right. Ed. the heire; P.om.the. 6. P. chiualrie; Ed. cheualry. 8. P. nat; Ed. neuer. 10. Ed.om.the. 11. P. loue and; Ed. humble. 14. P. bittir; Ed. bytter. 15. P. foorth; Ed. forthe (twice). 16. P. Ed. Holde.

19. P. fikilnesse; Ed. crabbydnesse. 20. P. Weeneth; Ed. Weneth. 22. P. seruiture; Ed. seruytude. 25. P. Commandith; Ed. Commaundeth. 26. Ed. O; P. Our. Ed. our; P. and. 27. Ed. dispute. 28. P. where; Ed. Her. 29. P. Spryngith; engendrith. 30. P. Makith. P. aght; Ed. ought. 31. P. been; Ed. be. 32. P. Dooth. 33. P. Yee. 34. P. approped (!). 38. Ed. duite. 39. P. keepith; Ed. kepeth. 40. P. nakid; Ed. naked. 41. Ed.om.that. P. yee been. 43. P. arn; Ed. be. 44. P. Engeland and; Ed. England and of. 45. P. yee. 46. P. othir. 47. P. qwenche. P. nusance; Ed. noysaunce (readnuisance).

49. P. Conqueste; Ed. Conquest. 50. Ed. myscreaunce. 51. P. roote rype; Ed. rote repe. P. yee. 52. P. Sleepe; Ed. Slepe. 54. P. yee been. 55. P. Dooth. 56, 57. P. yee. 57. P. shuln; Ed. shal. P. greeue. 58. Ed. the; P. and. 59. Ed. tourne. 60. Ed. Nowe kythe of your beleue the constaunce. 62. P. blissid; Ed. blysfull.

VII. A MORAL BALADE.

BY HENRY SCOGAN, SQUYER.

Here foloweth next a Moral Balade, to my lord the Prince, to my lord of Clarence, to my lord of Bedford, and to my lord of Gloucestre, by Henry Scogan; at a souper of feorthe merchande in the Vyntre in London, at the hous of Lowys Johan.

My noble sones, and eek my lordes dere,I, your fader called, unworthily,Sende un-to you this litel tretys hereWriten with myn owne hand full rudëly;5Although it be that I not reverentlyHave writen to your estats, yet I you praye,Myn unconning taketh benignëlyFor goddes sake, and herken what I seye.I complayn sore, whan I remembre me10The sodeyn age that is upon me falle;More I complayn my mispent juventèThe whiche is impossible ayein to calle.But certainly, the most complaynte of alleIs for to thinke, that I have been so nyce15That I ne wolde no virtue to me calleIn al my youthe, but vyces ay cheryce.Of whiche I aske mercy of thee, lord,That art almighty god in majestè,Beseking thee, to make so even accord20Betwix thee and my soule, that vanitèOf worldly lust, ne blynd prosperitèHave no lordship over my flesshe so frele.Thou lord of reste and parfit unitè,Put fro me vyce, and keep my soules hele.25And yeve me might, whyl I have lyf and space,Me to conforme fully to thy plesaunce;Shewe upon me th'abundaunce of thy grace,In gode werkes graunt me perséveraunce.Of al my youthe forget the ignoraunce;30Yeve me good wil, to serve thee ay to queme;Set al my lyf after thyn ordinaunce,And able me to mercy, or thou deme!My lordes dere, why I this complaint wryteTo you, alle whom I love entierly,35Is for to warne you, as I can endyte,That tyme y-lost in youthe folilyGreveth a wight goostly and bodily,I mene hem that to lust and vyce entende.Wherfore, I pray you, lordes, specially,40Your youthe in vertue shapeth to dispende.Planteth the rote of youthe in suche a wyseThat in vertue your growing be alway;Loke ay, goodnesse be in your exercyse,That shal you mighty make, at eche assay,45The feend for to withstonde at eche affray.Passeth wysly this perilous pilgrimage,Thinke on this word, and werke it every day;That shal you yeve a parfit floured age.Taketh also hede, how that these noble clerkes50Write in hir bokes of gret sapience,Saying, that fayth is deed withouten werkes;So is estat withoute intelligenceOf vertue; and therfore, with diligence,Shapeth of vertue so to plante the rote,55That ye therof have ful experience,To worship of your lyfe and soules bote.Taketh also hede, that lordship ne estat,Withoute vertue, may not longe endure;Thinketh eek how vyce and vertue at debat60Have been, and shal, whyles the world may dure;And ay the vicious, by aventure,Is overthrowe; and thinketh evermoreThat god is lord of vertue and figureOf al goodnesse; and therfore folowe his lore.65My mayster Chaucer, god his soulë have!That in his langage was so curious,He sayde, the fader whiche is deed and grave,Biquath nothing his vertue with his housUnto his sone; therfore laborious70Ought ye to be, beseching god, of grace,To yeve you might for to be vertuous,Through which ye might have part of his fayr place.Here may ye see that vertuous noblesseCometh not to you by way of auncestrye,75But it cometh thorugh leefful besinesseOf honest lyfe, and not by slogardrye.Wherfore in youthe I rede you edefyeThe hous of vertue in so wys manereThat in your age it may you kepe and gye80Fro the tempest of worldly wawes here.Thinketh how, betwixë vertue and estatThere is a parfit blessed mariage;Vertue is cause of pees, vyce of debatIn mannes soule; for which, with ful corage,85Cherissheth vertue, vyces to outrage:Dryveth hem away; let hem have no wonningIn your soules; leseth not the heritageWhich god hath yeve to vertuous living.Taketh hede also, how men of povre degree90Through vertue have be set in greet honour,And ever have lived in greet prosperiteeThrough cherisshing of vertuous labour.Thinketh also, how many a governourCalled to estat, hath oft be set ful lowe95Through misusing of right, and for errour,Therfore I counsaile you, vertue to knowe.Thus 'by your eldres may ye nothing clayme,'As that my mayster Chaucer sayth expresse,'But temporel thing, that man may hurte and mayme';100Than is god stocke of vertuous noblesse;And sith that he is lord of blessednesse,And made us alle, and for us alle deyde,Folowe his vertue with ful besinesse,And of this thing herke how my mayster seyde:—105The firste stok, fader of gentilesse,What man that claymeth gentil for to beMust folowe his trace, and alle his wittes dresseVertu to sewe, and vyces for to flee.For unto vertu longeth dignitee,110And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme,Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.This firste stok was ful of rightwisnesse,Trewe of his word, sobre, pitous, and free,Clene of his goste, and loved besinesse115Ageinst the vyce of slouthe, in honestee;And, but his heir love vertu, as dide he,He is noght gentil, though he riche seme,Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.Vyce may wel be heir to old richesse;120But ther may no man, as men may wel see,Bequethe his heir his vertuous noblesse;That is appropred unto no degree,But to the firste fader in magesteeThat maketh him his heir, that can him queme,125Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.Lo here, this noble poete of BretayneHow hyely he, in vertuous sentence,The losse in youthe of vertue can complayne;Wherfore I pray you, dooth your diligence,130For your estats and goddes reverence,T'enprintë vertue fully in your mynde,That, whan ye come in your juges presence,Ye be not set as vertules behynde.Ye lordes have a maner now-a-dayes,135Though oon shewe you a vertuous matere,Your fervent youthe is of so false alayesThat of that art ye have no joy to here.But, as a ship that is withouten stereDryveth up and doun, withouten governaunce,140Wening that calm wol lastë, yeer by yere,Right so fare ye, for very ignoraunce.For very shamë, knowe ye nat, by résonThat, after an ebbe, ther cometh a flood ful rage?In the same wyse, whan youth passeth his séson,145Cometh croked and unweldy palled age;Sone after comen kalends of dotage;And if your youth no vertue have provyded,Al men wol saye, fy on your vassalage!Thus hath your slouth fro worship you devyded.150Boëce the clerk, as men may rede and see,Saith, in his Boke of Consolacioun,What man desyreth †have of vyne or treePlentee of fruit, in the ryping sesoun,Must ay eschewe to doon oppressioun155Unto the rote, whyle it is yong and grene;Ye may wel see, by this conclusioun,That youthë vertulees doth mochel tene.Seeth, there-ayenst, how vertuous noblesseRoted in youthe, with good perséveraunce,160Dryveth away al vyce and wrecchednesse,As slogardrye, ryote and distaunce!Seeth eek how vertue causeth suffisaunce,And suffisaunce exyleth coveityse!And who hath vertue hath al abundaunce165Of wele, as fer as reson can devyse.Taketh hede of Tullius Hostilius,That cam fro povertee to hy degree;Through vertue redeth eek of JuliusThe conquerour, how povre a man was he;170Yet, through his vertue and humanitee,Of many a countree had he governaunce.Thus vertue bringeth unto greet degreeEche wight that list to do him entendaunce.Rede, here-ayenst, of Nero vertulees;175Taketh hede also of proude Balthasar;They hated vertue, equitee, and pees.Loke how Antiochus fil fro his char,That he his skin and bones al to-tar!Loke what meschauncë they had for hir vyces!180Who-so that wol not by these signes be war,I dar wel say, infortunat or nyce is.I can no more; but here-by may ye seeHow vertue causeth parfit sikernesse,And vyces doon exyle prosperitee;185The best is, ech to chesen, as I gesse.Doth as you list, I me excuse expresse;I wolde be sory, if that ye mischese.God you conferme in vertuous noblesse,So that through negligence ye nothing lese!Explicit.

My noble sones, and eek my lordes dere,

I, your fader called, unworthily,

Sende un-to you this litel tretys here

Writen with myn owne hand full rudëly;

Although it be that I not reverently

Have writen to your estats, yet I you praye,

Myn unconning taketh benignëly

For goddes sake, and herken what I seye.

I complayn sore, whan I remembre me10The sodeyn age that is upon me falle;More I complayn my mispent juventèThe whiche is impossible ayein to calle.But certainly, the most complaynte of alleIs for to thinke, that I have been so nyce15That I ne wolde no virtue to me calleIn al my youthe, but vyces ay cheryce.

I complayn sore, whan I remembre me

The sodeyn age that is upon me falle;

More I complayn my mispent juventè

The whiche is impossible ayein to calle.

But certainly, the most complaynte of alle

Is for to thinke, that I have been so nyce

That I ne wolde no virtue to me calle

In al my youthe, but vyces ay cheryce.

Of whiche I aske mercy of thee, lord,That art almighty god in majestè,Beseking thee, to make so even accord20Betwix thee and my soule, that vanitèOf worldly lust, ne blynd prosperitèHave no lordship over my flesshe so frele.Thou lord of reste and parfit unitè,Put fro me vyce, and keep my soules hele.

Of whiche I aske mercy of thee, lord,

That art almighty god in majestè,

Beseking thee, to make so even accord

Betwix thee and my soule, that vanitè

Of worldly lust, ne blynd prosperitè

Have no lordship over my flesshe so frele.

Thou lord of reste and parfit unitè,

Put fro me vyce, and keep my soules hele.

25And yeve me might, whyl I have lyf and space,Me to conforme fully to thy plesaunce;Shewe upon me th'abundaunce of thy grace,In gode werkes graunt me perséveraunce.Of al my youthe forget the ignoraunce;30Yeve me good wil, to serve thee ay to queme;Set al my lyf after thyn ordinaunce,And able me to mercy, or thou deme!

And yeve me might, whyl I have lyf and space,

Me to conforme fully to thy plesaunce;

Shewe upon me th'abundaunce of thy grace,

In gode werkes graunt me perséveraunce.

Of al my youthe forget the ignoraunce;

Yeve me good wil, to serve thee ay to queme;

Set al my lyf after thyn ordinaunce,

And able me to mercy, or thou deme!

My lordes dere, why I this complaint wryteTo you, alle whom I love entierly,35Is for to warne you, as I can endyte,That tyme y-lost in youthe folilyGreveth a wight goostly and bodily,I mene hem that to lust and vyce entende.Wherfore, I pray you, lordes, specially,40Your youthe in vertue shapeth to dispende.

My lordes dere, why I this complaint wryte

To you, alle whom I love entierly,

Is for to warne you, as I can endyte,

That tyme y-lost in youthe folily

Greveth a wight goostly and bodily,

I mene hem that to lust and vyce entende.

Wherfore, I pray you, lordes, specially,

Your youthe in vertue shapeth to dispende.

Planteth the rote of youthe in suche a wyseThat in vertue your growing be alway;Loke ay, goodnesse be in your exercyse,That shal you mighty make, at eche assay,45The feend for to withstonde at eche affray.Passeth wysly this perilous pilgrimage,Thinke on this word, and werke it every day;That shal you yeve a parfit floured age.

Planteth the rote of youthe in suche a wyse

That in vertue your growing be alway;

Loke ay, goodnesse be in your exercyse,

That shal you mighty make, at eche assay,

The feend for to withstonde at eche affray.

Passeth wysly this perilous pilgrimage,

Thinke on this word, and werke it every day;

That shal you yeve a parfit floured age.

Taketh also hede, how that these noble clerkes50Write in hir bokes of gret sapience,Saying, that fayth is deed withouten werkes;So is estat withoute intelligenceOf vertue; and therfore, with diligence,Shapeth of vertue so to plante the rote,55That ye therof have ful experience,To worship of your lyfe and soules bote.

Taketh also hede, how that these noble clerkes

Write in hir bokes of gret sapience,

Saying, that fayth is deed withouten werkes;

So is estat withoute intelligence

Of vertue; and therfore, with diligence,

Shapeth of vertue so to plante the rote,

That ye therof have ful experience,

To worship of your lyfe and soules bote.

Taketh also hede, that lordship ne estat,Withoute vertue, may not longe endure;Thinketh eek how vyce and vertue at debat60Have been, and shal, whyles the world may dure;And ay the vicious, by aventure,Is overthrowe; and thinketh evermoreThat god is lord of vertue and figureOf al goodnesse; and therfore folowe his lore.

Taketh also hede, that lordship ne estat,

Withoute vertue, may not longe endure;

Thinketh eek how vyce and vertue at debat

Have been, and shal, whyles the world may dure;

And ay the vicious, by aventure,

Is overthrowe; and thinketh evermore

That god is lord of vertue and figure

Of al goodnesse; and therfore folowe his lore.

65My mayster Chaucer, god his soulë have!That in his langage was so curious,He sayde, the fader whiche is deed and grave,Biquath nothing his vertue with his housUnto his sone; therfore laborious70Ought ye to be, beseching god, of grace,To yeve you might for to be vertuous,Through which ye might have part of his fayr place.

My mayster Chaucer, god his soulë have!

That in his langage was so curious,

He sayde, the fader whiche is deed and grave,

Biquath nothing his vertue with his hous

Unto his sone; therfore laborious

Ought ye to be, beseching god, of grace,

To yeve you might for to be vertuous,

Through which ye might have part of his fayr place.

Here may ye see that vertuous noblesseCometh not to you by way of auncestrye,75But it cometh thorugh leefful besinesseOf honest lyfe, and not by slogardrye.Wherfore in youthe I rede you edefyeThe hous of vertue in so wys manereThat in your age it may you kepe and gye80Fro the tempest of worldly wawes here.

Here may ye see that vertuous noblesse

Cometh not to you by way of auncestrye,

But it cometh thorugh leefful besinesse

Of honest lyfe, and not by slogardrye.

Wherfore in youthe I rede you edefye

The hous of vertue in so wys manere

That in your age it may you kepe and gye

Fro the tempest of worldly wawes here.

Thinketh how, betwixë vertue and estatThere is a parfit blessed mariage;Vertue is cause of pees, vyce of debatIn mannes soule; for which, with ful corage,85Cherissheth vertue, vyces to outrage:Dryveth hem away; let hem have no wonningIn your soules; leseth not the heritageWhich god hath yeve to vertuous living.

Thinketh how, betwixë vertue and estat

There is a parfit blessed mariage;

Vertue is cause of pees, vyce of debat

In mannes soule; for which, with ful corage,

Cherissheth vertue, vyces to outrage:

Dryveth hem away; let hem have no wonning

In your soules; leseth not the heritage

Which god hath yeve to vertuous living.

Taketh hede also, how men of povre degree90Through vertue have be set in greet honour,And ever have lived in greet prosperiteeThrough cherisshing of vertuous labour.Thinketh also, how many a governourCalled to estat, hath oft be set ful lowe95Through misusing of right, and for errour,Therfore I counsaile you, vertue to knowe.

Taketh hede also, how men of povre degree

Through vertue have be set in greet honour,

And ever have lived in greet prosperitee

Through cherisshing of vertuous labour.

Thinketh also, how many a governour

Called to estat, hath oft be set ful lowe

Through misusing of right, and for errour,

Therfore I counsaile you, vertue to knowe.

Thus 'by your eldres may ye nothing clayme,'As that my mayster Chaucer sayth expresse,'But temporel thing, that man may hurte and mayme';100Than is god stocke of vertuous noblesse;And sith that he is lord of blessednesse,And made us alle, and for us alle deyde,Folowe his vertue with ful besinesse,And of this thing herke how my mayster seyde:—

Thus 'by your eldres may ye nothing clayme,'

As that my mayster Chaucer sayth expresse,

'But temporel thing, that man may hurte and mayme';

100

Than is god stocke of vertuous noblesse;

And sith that he is lord of blessednesse,

And made us alle, and for us alle deyde,

Folowe his vertue with ful besinesse,

And of this thing herke how my mayster seyde:—

105The firste stok, fader of gentilesse,What man that claymeth gentil for to beMust folowe his trace, and alle his wittes dresseVertu to sewe, and vyces for to flee.For unto vertu longeth dignitee,110And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme,Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

105

The firste stok, fader of gentilesse,

What man that claymeth gentil for to be

Must folowe his trace, and alle his wittes dresse

Vertu to sewe, and vyces for to flee.

For unto vertu longeth dignitee,

110

And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme,

Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

This firste stok was ful of rightwisnesse,Trewe of his word, sobre, pitous, and free,Clene of his goste, and loved besinesse115Ageinst the vyce of slouthe, in honestee;And, but his heir love vertu, as dide he,He is noght gentil, though he riche seme,Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

This firste stok was ful of rightwisnesse,

Trewe of his word, sobre, pitous, and free,

Clene of his goste, and loved besinesse

115

Ageinst the vyce of slouthe, in honestee;

And, but his heir love vertu, as dide he,

He is noght gentil, though he riche seme,

Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

Vyce may wel be heir to old richesse;120But ther may no man, as men may wel see,Bequethe his heir his vertuous noblesse;That is appropred unto no degree,But to the firste fader in magesteeThat maketh him his heir, that can him queme,125Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

Vyce may wel be heir to old richesse;

120

But ther may no man, as men may wel see,

Bequethe his heir his vertuous noblesse;

That is appropred unto no degree,

But to the firste fader in magestee

That maketh him his heir, that can him queme,

125

Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

Lo here, this noble poete of BretayneHow hyely he, in vertuous sentence,The losse in youthe of vertue can complayne;Wherfore I pray you, dooth your diligence,130For your estats and goddes reverence,T'enprintë vertue fully in your mynde,That, whan ye come in your juges presence,Ye be not set as vertules behynde.

Lo here, this noble poete of Bretayne

How hyely he, in vertuous sentence,

The losse in youthe of vertue can complayne;

Wherfore I pray you, dooth your diligence,

130

For your estats and goddes reverence,

T'enprintë vertue fully in your mynde,

That, whan ye come in your juges presence,

Ye be not set as vertules behynde.

Ye lordes have a maner now-a-dayes,135Though oon shewe you a vertuous matere,Your fervent youthe is of so false alayesThat of that art ye have no joy to here.But, as a ship that is withouten stereDryveth up and doun, withouten governaunce,140Wening that calm wol lastë, yeer by yere,Right so fare ye, for very ignoraunce.

Ye lordes have a maner now-a-dayes,

135

Though oon shewe you a vertuous matere,

Your fervent youthe is of so false alayes

That of that art ye have no joy to here.

But, as a ship that is withouten stere

Dryveth up and doun, withouten governaunce,

140

Wening that calm wol lastë, yeer by yere,

Right so fare ye, for very ignoraunce.

For very shamë, knowe ye nat, by résonThat, after an ebbe, ther cometh a flood ful rage?In the same wyse, whan youth passeth his séson,145Cometh croked and unweldy palled age;Sone after comen kalends of dotage;And if your youth no vertue have provyded,Al men wol saye, fy on your vassalage!Thus hath your slouth fro worship you devyded.

For very shamë, knowe ye nat, by réson

That, after an ebbe, ther cometh a flood ful rage?

In the same wyse, whan youth passeth his séson,

145

Cometh croked and unweldy palled age;

Sone after comen kalends of dotage;

And if your youth no vertue have provyded,

Al men wol saye, fy on your vassalage!

Thus hath your slouth fro worship you devyded.

150Boëce the clerk, as men may rede and see,Saith, in his Boke of Consolacioun,What man desyreth †have of vyne or treePlentee of fruit, in the ryping sesoun,Must ay eschewe to doon oppressioun155Unto the rote, whyle it is yong and grene;Ye may wel see, by this conclusioun,That youthë vertulees doth mochel tene.

150

Boëce the clerk, as men may rede and see,

Saith, in his Boke of Consolacioun,

What man desyreth †have of vyne or tree

Plentee of fruit, in the ryping sesoun,

Must ay eschewe to doon oppressioun

155

Unto the rote, whyle it is yong and grene;

Ye may wel see, by this conclusioun,

That youthë vertulees doth mochel tene.

Seeth, there-ayenst, how vertuous noblesseRoted in youthe, with good perséveraunce,160Dryveth away al vyce and wrecchednesse,As slogardrye, ryote and distaunce!Seeth eek how vertue causeth suffisaunce,And suffisaunce exyleth coveityse!And who hath vertue hath al abundaunce165Of wele, as fer as reson can devyse.

Seeth, there-ayenst, how vertuous noblesse

Roted in youthe, with good perséveraunce,

160

Dryveth away al vyce and wrecchednesse,

As slogardrye, ryote and distaunce!

Seeth eek how vertue causeth suffisaunce,

And suffisaunce exyleth coveityse!

And who hath vertue hath al abundaunce

165

Of wele, as fer as reson can devyse.

Taketh hede of Tullius Hostilius,That cam fro povertee to hy degree;Through vertue redeth eek of JuliusThe conquerour, how povre a man was he;170Yet, through his vertue and humanitee,Of many a countree had he governaunce.Thus vertue bringeth unto greet degreeEche wight that list to do him entendaunce.

Taketh hede of Tullius Hostilius,

That cam fro povertee to hy degree;

Through vertue redeth eek of Julius

The conquerour, how povre a man was he;

170

Yet, through his vertue and humanitee,

Of many a countree had he governaunce.

Thus vertue bringeth unto greet degree

Eche wight that list to do him entendaunce.

Rede, here-ayenst, of Nero vertulees;175Taketh hede also of proude Balthasar;They hated vertue, equitee, and pees.Loke how Antiochus fil fro his char,That he his skin and bones al to-tar!Loke what meschauncë they had for hir vyces!180Who-so that wol not by these signes be war,I dar wel say, infortunat or nyce is.

Rede, here-ayenst, of Nero vertulees;

175

Taketh hede also of proude Balthasar;

They hated vertue, equitee, and pees.

Loke how Antiochus fil fro his char,

That he his skin and bones al to-tar!

Loke what meschauncë they had for hir vyces!

180

Who-so that wol not by these signes be war,

I dar wel say, infortunat or nyce is.

I can no more; but here-by may ye seeHow vertue causeth parfit sikernesse,And vyces doon exyle prosperitee;185The best is, ech to chesen, as I gesse.Doth as you list, I me excuse expresse;I wolde be sory, if that ye mischese.God you conferme in vertuous noblesse,So that through negligence ye nothing lese!

I can no more; but here-by may ye see

How vertue causeth parfit sikernesse,

And vyces doon exyle prosperitee;

185

The best is, ech to chesen, as I gesse.

Doth as you list, I me excuse expresse;

I wolde be sory, if that ye mischese.

God you conferme in vertuous noblesse,

So that through negligence ye nothing lese!

Explicit.

FromTh. (Thynne, ed. 1542);collated withA. (Ashmole 59),andCx. (Caxton);readings also given fromH. (Harl. 2251).

Title;fromA. (which hasfolowethe nexst); Cx.hasHere next foloweth a tretyse, whiche John Skogan sente vnto the lordes and gentilmen of the kynges hows, exortyng them to lose no tyme in theyr yougthe, but to vse vertues; Th.hasScogan vnto the lordes and gentylmen of the kynges house.

1. Th. A. sonnes. 2. Th. A. vnworthely. 3. Th. lytel treatyse; A. balade folowing. 4. Th. with; A. H. of. 5. Th. H. Although; Cx. And though; A. Yitte howe. 6. Th. A. estates. A. yet; H. Th. Cx.om.8. Cx. herkne (better). 9. Th. me sore; A. H.om.me. 10. A. H. falle; Th. fal. 11. Th. But more; A. H. Cx.om.But. Th. iuuentute. 12. Th. ayen for; A. ageine. A. H. calle; Th. cal.

13. Th. H. certainly; A. comvnely. Th. A. moste. A. H. alle; Th. al. 14. A. H. for; Th.om.A. beon; Th. be. 15. A. H. no; Th.om.A. vertue; Th. vertues. A. calle; Th. cal. 16. A. ay; Th. aye. 17. A. thee; Th. the. Th. lorde. 18. Th. H. god; A. lorde. 20. Th. Betwyxe; A. Bytwene. 21. A. H. Of; Th. Cx.om.Th. blynde. 22. A. so freel; Th. H. to frele. 23. Th. lorde; perfyte. 24. A. H. Cx. soules; Th. soule. 25. Th. whyle; lyfe. 26. A. H. confourme; Th. confyrme (!). 27. A. H. vpon; Th. to. 28. Th. And in; A. H.om.And. 30. A. thee; Th. the. 31. Th. lyfe. A. H. thy governaunce. 34. A. alle whome; Cx. whom that; Th. whom. Th. moste entyrely; Cx. A. entierly. 36. A. eloste; Th. loste; H. Cx. lost. 37. A. H. goostely and bodely; Th. Cx. bodily and gostly. 38. Th. meane. 39. A. I prey you lordes; Th. lordes I pray you. A. tendrely. 41. Cx.transposes41-80and81-125. A. Plantethe; Th. Cx. Plante.

43. A. ay; Th. alway. 45. Cx. The frende (!) for to withstonde; A. For to withstonde the feonde; Th. The fende to withstande. 46. Th. peryllous; H. perilous. 47. H. Th. Cx. werke; A. vse. 48. Th. parfyte. 50. Th. Writen; A. Wrote. Th. her. Th. great; H. grete; A. noble. 52.SoA.; Th. And right so is estate with negligence. 57. A. Then kepe also that. 58. Cx. A. Withoute; Th. Without. 59. Cx. vice; A. H. Th. vices. 60. A. whiles; Th. while. Th. worlde. 61. A. H. ay; Th. Cx. euer. 63. Th. lorde of al; H. A. lord of. 67. Th. sayd that the; A. saide that the; H. Cx.om.that. Th. father; A. H. fader. 68. H. A. Beqwath; Th. Byqueth. Th. house. 69.SoA. Cx.; Th. children and therefore laborouse. 70. H. Th. Ought; A. Aught; Cx. Owe. Th.om.to. Th. besekyng; A. beseching. 72. Th. haue; A. H. gete. Th. parte. A. feyre; Th. H.om.

74. A. Comþe. 75. A. thorugh; Cx. thurgh; Th. by. A. leofful; Th. leful; H. leeful. 77. Th. you ye; A. H.om.ye. 78. Th. house. A. soo wyse; Th. H. suche a. 79. Th.om.it. 80. H. A. worldly; Th. worldes. 81. Th. howe betwyxe; A. howe bytwene. 82. Th. parfyte. 84. H. A. for whiche with full; Th. the whiche be ful of. 85. Th. than vertue; A.om.than. 86. A. Cx.om. 1sthem. 87. A. leese; H. lesith. 89. Th. howe. A. poure; Th. poore. 90, 91. Th. great. 92. Th. H. Through; A. By. 94. Th. H. Called; A. Calde. A. offt; H. Th. Cx.om.95. A. for; Th. H. Cx. of. 96. Th. And therfore;rest om.And. 97. A. By auncetrye thus; Th. H. Thus by your auncestres; Cx. Thus by your eldres. 99. Th. men (forman). 100. Cx. Than god is. 101. Th. sythe; lorde. Th. blyssednesse; A. blessednesse. 102. A. That (forAnd). A. H. alle; Th. al (1). Cx. alle; Th. al (2).Forus alle A.hasmankynde that.

103.SoA.; Th. H. Foloweth hym in vertue. 105-125. Chaucer's poem ofGentilesseis here quoted; see vol. i. p. 392. 127. A. Howe hyely he; Th. Howe lightly. 128. A. lesse (!); Th. losse. A. H. in; Th. on. 129. A. Wherfore; Th. And therefore. A. doothe; Th. with (!). 130. A. estates; Th. profyte. 131. A. Tenprynte; Th. Tempereth (!). A. H. vertue fully; Th. fully vertue. 132. Cx. in; A. H. in-to; Th. to. 133. A. H. sette as vertulesse; Th. vertulesse than. 134. H. Cx. Ye; A. For yee; Th. Many. Th. A. nowe. 135. Cx. H. you; Th. hem. A. Thaughe one of you here of a gode matere.

136. Cx. H. Your feruent; Th. Her feruent; A. Your vnsure. 137. Th. arte. Cx. H. ye; Th. they. A. That of suche artes you liste not to. 138. Cx. A. withouten; Th. without a. 139. A. withouten; Th. without. 140. Th. calme. A. wol laste you; Th. wolde last. Th. yere by yere. 141. Cx. A. H. ye; Th. they. 142. Cx. A. H. ye; Th. they. 143. A. Cx.om.ful. 144. A. Right euen so whane. 145. A. Comthe. 146. A. Soone; Th. And sone. Th. comen the; Cx. come; A. comthe. 147. Th. if that; Cx. A. H.om.that. Cx. A. your; Th. her. A. H. no vertue haue; Cx. no vertue hath; Th. haue no vertue. 148. Th. fye. Cx. A. your; Th. her. 149. A. H. your; Th. her. Cx. H. you; Th. hem. A.hasThus hathe youre youthe and slouthe you al misgyded. 152. Cx. A. H. to haue; Th.om.(readhaue). 153. A. Plenty of; Cx. Plentyuous; Th. Plentous. Th. fruite. A. H. Cx. the; Th.om.A. H. Cx. riping; Th. reapyng. 154. A. H. Cx. ay; Th. euer. A. doon; Th. do. 156. A. H. Cx. Yee may; Th. Thus may ye. A. H. wele see; Cx. see; Th. se wel. A. H. this; Th. that. A. Cx. conclusioun; Th. inclusyon (!). 157. A. youthe; Th. youth. A. Th. vertulesse. Th. moche; Cx. ofte muche; A. ay michil (readmochel). 158. Th. Nowe seeth; A. H. Cx.om.Nowe. Th. howe; A. that. 159. A. youthe; Th. youth.

160. A. Cx. vyce; H. vice; Th. vyces. 161. A. Al (forAs). A. al ryote; H. Cx. Th.om.al. 162. Th. eke howe. 163.SoA. Cx.; H.om.; Th.hasSeeth eke howe vertue voydeth al vyce (!). 164. Th. H. Cx. whoso; A.om.so. 165. Th. ferre; A. far. Th. reason. 167. A. came frome pouertee; Th. fro pouert came. Th. hygh; A. hye. 168. Th. eke. 169. Th. howe poore. 170. A. H. Cx. humanite; Th. his humylite. 171. Th.om.a. 172. A. unto gret; Cx. to hye; Th. a man to great. 173. A. Cx. list; Th. H. lust. Th. entendaunce;restattendaunce. 174. Th. nowe of; A. H. Cx.om.nowe. 177. Th. And loke;rest om.And. Th. howe; chare. 178. Th. tare. 179. A. meschaunces. 180. Th. H. Cx.om.that. Th. ware. 181. A. Th. infortunate. A. H. Cx. or; Th. and. 182. Th. no more nowe say; Cx. no more say; H. no more; A. more (!). Th. herby; se. 183. A. Th. Howe. A. Th. perfyte. 184. A. done exyle; Th. H. exylen al; Cx. exyles al. 185. Th. eche man to; Cx. man to; A. dethe to (detheis put foreche). A. cheesen; Th. chose.

186. Th. A. Dothe. 187. A. Cx. wil (forwolde). Th. right sorie; A. H. Cx.om.right. 188. A. you conferme; Th. confyrme you. 189. A. no thing; Cx. H. nothing; Th. not it.Colophon.Cx. Thus endeth the traytye wiche John Skogan sent to the lordes and estates of the kynges hous.

VIII. JOHN LYDGATE.

THE COMPLAINT OF THE BLACK KNIGHT; OR, THE COMPLAINT OF A LOVERES LYFE.

In May, whan Flora, the fresshe lusty quene,The soile hath clad in grene, rede, and whyte,And Phebus gan to shede his stremes sheneAmid the Bole, with al the bemes brighte,5And Lucifer, to chace awey the night,Ayen the morowe our orizont hath takeTo bidde lovers out of hir sleepe awake,And hertes hevy for to recomforteFrom dreriheed of hevy nightes sorowe,10Nature bad hem ryse, and hem disporte,Ayen the goodly, gladde, greye morowe;And Hope also, with seint Johan to borowe,Bad, in dispyt of daunger and dispeyre,For to take the hoolsom lusty eyre:15And with a sigh I gan for to abreydeOut of my slombre, and sodainly up sterteAs he, alas! that nigh for sorowe deyde,My sekenes sat ay so nigh my herte.But, for to finde socour of my smerte,20Or at the leste som réles of my peyne,That me so sore halt in every veyne,I roos anon, and thoghte I wolde goonInto the wode, to here the briddes singe,Whan that the misty vapour was agoon25And clere and faire was the morowning;The dewe also, lyk silver in shyningUpon the leves, as any baume swete,Til fyry Tytan, with his persaunt hete,Had dryed up the lusty licour newe30Upon the herbes in the grene mede,And that the floures, of many dyvers hewe,Upon hir stalkes gonne for to spredeAnd for to splaye[n] out hir leves on-bredeAgayn the sonne, gold-burned in his spere,35That doun to hem caste his bemes clere.And by a river forth I gan costeyOf water clere as berel or cristalTil at the laste I found a litel weyToward a park, enclosed with a wal40In compas rounde, and by a gate smalWho-so that wolde frely mighte goonInto this park, walled with grene stoon.And in I wente, to here the briddes song,Whiche on the braunches, bothe in playn and vale,45So loude songe, that al the wode rongLyke as it shulde shiver in peces smale;And, as me thoughte, that the nightingaleWith so gret mighte her voys gan out-wresteRight as her herte for love wolde breste.50The soil was playn, smothe, and wonder softeAl oversprad with tapites that NatureHad mad her-selve, celured eek alofteWith bowes grene, the floures for to cure,That in hir beautè they may longe endure55From al assaut of Phebus fervent fere,Whiche in his spere so hote shoon and clere.The eyre attempre, and the smothe windOf Zepherus, among the blossomes whyte,So hoolsom was and norisshing by kind,60That smale buddes, and rounde blomes lyteIn maner gonnen of her brethe delyteTo yeve us hope that hir fruit shal take,Ayens autumpne, redy for to shake.I saw ther Daphne, closed under rinde,65Grene laurer, and the hoolsom pyne;The myrre also, that wepeth ever of kinde;The cedres hye, upright as a lyne;The philbert eek, that lowe doth enclyneHer bowes grene to the erthe adoun70Unto her knight, y-called Demophoun.Ther saw I eek the fresshe hawëthornIn whyte motlè, that so swote doth smelle,Ash, firre, and ook, with many a yong acorn,And many a tree—mo than I can telle;75And, me beforn, I saw a litel welle,That had his cours, as I gan beholde,Under an hille, with quikke stremes colde.The gravel gold, the water pure as glas,The bankes rounde, the welle envyroning;80And softe as veluët the yonge grasThat therupon lustily cam springing;The sute of trees aboute compassingHir shadowe caste, closing the welle rounde,And al the herbes growing on the grounde.85The water was so hoolsom and vertuousThrough might of herbes growing there besyde,Not lyk the welle, wher-as NarcisusY-slayn was, through vengeaunce of Cupyde,Where so covertly he didë hyde90The grayn of cruel dethe upon ech brinke,That deeth mot folowe, who that ever drinke;Ne lyk the pittë of the PegacèUnder Pernaso, where poetës slepte;Nor lyk the welle of pure chastitè95Which that Dyane with her nymphes kepte,Whan she naked into the water lepte,That slow Acteon with his houndes felleOnly for he cam so nigh the welle!Bút this welle, that I here reherce,100So hoolsom was, that it wolde aswageBollen hertes, and the venim perceOf pensifheed, with al the cruel rage,And evermore refresshe the visageOf hem that were in any werinesse105Of greet labour, or fallen in distresse.And I, that had, through daunger and disdayne,So drye a thrust, thoughte I wolde assayeTo taste a draughte of this welle, or twayne,My bitter langour if it mighte alaye;110And on the banke anon adoun I lay,And with myn heed unto the welle I raughte,And of the water drank I a good draughte;Wherof, me thought, I was refresshed weleOf the brenning that sat so nigh my herte,115That verily anon I gan to feleAn huge part relesed of my smerte;And therwithallë anon up I sterte,And thoughte I wolde walke, and see moreForth in the parke, and in the holtes hore.120And through a laundë as I yede a-paceAnd gan aboute faste to beholde,I found anon a délitable placeThat was beset with treës yonge and olde,Whose names here for me shal not be tolde;125Amidde of whiche stood an herber grene,That benched was, with colours newe and clene.Thís herber was ful of floures inde,In-to the whiche as I beholde gan,Betwix an hulfere and a wodëbinde,130As I was war, I saw wher lay a manIn blakke and whyte colour, pale and wan,And wonder deedly also of his hewe,Of hurtes grene and fresshe woundes newe.And overmore distrayned with sekenesse,135Besyde al this, he was, ful grevously;For upon him he had an hoot accesse,That day by day him shook ful pitously;So that, for constreynt of his maladyAnd hertly wo, thus lying al alone,140It was a deeth for to here him grone.Wherof astonied, my foot I gan withdrawe,Greetly wondring what it mighte beThat he so lay, and hadde no felawe,Ne that I coude no wight with him see;145Wherof I hadde routhe, and eek pitè,And gan anon, so softely as I coude,Among the busshes me prively to shroude;If that I mighte in any wyse espyeWhat was the cause of his deedly wo,150Or why that he so pitously gan cryeOn his fortune, and on his ure also;With al my might I layde an ere to,Every word to marke, what he seyde,Out of his swough among as he abrayde.155But first, if I shulde make menciounOf his persone, and plainly him discryve,He was in sothe, without excepcioun,To speke of manhode, oon the best on-lyve;Ther may no man ayen the trouthe stryve.160For of his tyme, and of his age alsoHe proved was, ther men shulde have ado,For oon the beste there, of brede and lengtheSo wel y-mad by good proporcioun,If he had be in his deliver strengthe;165But thought and seknesse were occasiounThat he thus lay, in lamentacioun,Gruffe on the grounde, in place desolat,Sole by him-self, awhaped and amat.And, for me semeth that it is sitting170His wordes al to putte in remembraunce,To me, that herdë al his complayningAnd al the groundë of his woful chaunce,If ther-withal I may you do plesaunce,I wol to you, so as I can, anon,175Lyk as he sayde, reherce hem everichon.But who shal helpe me now to complayne?Or who shal now my style gye or lede?O Niobè, let now thy teres rayneIn-to my penne; and helpe eek in this nede,180Thou woful Mirre, that felest my herte bledeOf pitous wo, and myn hand eek quakeWhan that I wryte, for this mannes sake!For unto wo accordeth complayningAnd doleful cherë unto hevinesse;185To sorowe also, syghing and weping,And pitous mourning, unto drerinesse;And whoso that shal wryten of distresseIn party nedeth to knowe felinglyCause and rote of al such malady.190But I, alas! that am of witte but dulle,And have no knowing of such matere,For to discryve and wryten at the fulleThe woful complaynt, which that ye shal here,But even-lyk as doth a skrivenere195That can no more what that he shal wryte,But as his maister besyde doth endyte;Right so fare I, that of no sentementSaye right naught, as in conclusioun,But as I herde, whan I was present,200This man complayne with a pitous soun;For even-lyk, without addiciounOr disencrees, either more or lesse,For to reherce anon I wol me dresse.And if that any now be in this place205That fele in love brenning or fervence,Or hindred werë to his lady graceWith false tonges, that with pestilenceSlee trewe men that never did offenceIn word nor dede, ne in hir entent—210If any suche be here now present,Let him of routhe lay to audience,With doleful chere and sobre countenaunce,To here this man, by ful high sentence,His mortal wo and his gret perturbaunce215Cómplayning, now lying in a traunce,With lokes upcaste, and with ruful chere,Th' effect of whiche was as ye shal here.—Compleynt.The thought oppressed with inward sighes sore,The painful lyf, the body languisshing,220The woful gost, the herte rent and tore,The pitous chere, pale in compleyning,The deedly face, lyk ashes in shyning,The salte teres that fro myn eyën falle,Parcel declare grounde of my peynes alle:225Whos herte is grounde to blede in hevinesse;The thought, resceyt of wo and of complaynt;The brest is cheste of dole and drerinesse;The body eek so feble and so faynt;With hote and colde myn acces is so meynt,230That now I chiver for defaute of hete,And, hoot as gleed, now sodainly I swete.Now hoot as fyr, now cold as asshes dede,Now hoot fro cold, now cold fro hete agayn;Now cold as ys, now as coles rede235For hete I brenne; and thus, betwixe twayne,I possed am, and al forcast in payne;So that my hete plainly, as I fele,Of grevous cold is causë, every-deel.This is the cold of inward high disdayne,240Cold of dispyt, and cold of cruel hate;This is the cold that doth his besy payneAyeines trouthe to fighte and to debate.This is the cold that wolde the fyr abateOf trewe mening; alas! the harde whyle!245This is the cold that wolde me begyle.For ever the better that in trouthe I menteWith al my mighte faythfully to serve,With herte and al for to be diligent,The lesse thank, alas! I can deserve!250Thus for my trouthe Daunger doth me sterve.For oon that shulde my deeth, of mercy, letteHath mad despyt newe his swerd to whetteAyeines me, and his arowes to fyleTo take vengeaunce of wilful crueltè;255And tonges false, through hir sleightly wyle,Han gonne a werre that wil not stinted be;And fals Envye, Wrathe, and Enmitè,Have conspired, ayeines al right and lawe,Of hir malyce, that Trouthe shal be slawe.260And Male-Bouche gan first the tale telle,To slaundre Trouthe, of indignacioun;And Fals-Report so loude rong the belle,That Misbeleve and Fals-Suspeccioun,Have Trouthe brought to his dampnacioun,265So that, alas! wrongfully he dyeth,And Falsnes now his placë occupyeth,And entred is in-to Trouthes lond,And hath therof the ful possessioun.O rightful god, that first the trouthe fond,270How may thou suffre such oppressioun,That Falshood shulde have jurisdicciounIn Trouthes right, to slee him giltëlees?In his fraunchyse he may not live in pees.Falsly accused, and of his foon forjuged,275Without answere, whyl he was absent,He dampned was, and may not ben excused,For Crueltè sat in jugëmentOf hastinesse, withoute avysëment,And bad Disdayn do execute anon280His jugëment, in presence of his foon.Attourney noon ne may admitted beenT'ëxcuse Trouthë, ne a word to speke;To fayth or ooth the juge list not seen,There is no gayn, but he wil be wreke.285O lord of trouthe, to thee I calle and clepe;How may thou see, thus in thy presence,Withoute mercy, murdred innocence?Now god, that art of trouthe soverainAnd seëst how I lye for trouthe bounde,290So sore knit in loves fyry chainEven at the deth, through-girt with many a woundeThat lykly are never for to sounde,And for my trouthe am dampned to the deeth,And not abyde, but drawe along the breeth:295Consider and see, in thyn eternal right,How that myn herte professed whylom wasFor to be trewe with al my fulle mightOnly to oon, the whiche now, alas!Of voluntè, withoute any trespas,300Myn accusours hath taken unto grace,And cherissheth hem, my deth for to purchace.What meneth this? what is this wonder ureOf purveyauncë, if I shal it calle,Of god of love, that false hem so assure,305And trewe, alas! doun of the whele ben falle?And yet in sothe, this is the worst of alle,That Falshed wrongfully of Trouthe hath name,And Trouthe ayenward of Falshed bereth the blame.This blinde chaunce, this stormy aventure,310In lovë hath most his experience;For who that doth with trouthe most his cureShal for his mede finde most offence,That serveth love with al his diligence;For who can faynë, under lowliheed,315Ne fayleth not to finde grace and speed.For I loved oon, ful longë sith agoon,With al my herte, body, and ful might,And, to be deed, my herte can not goonFrom his hest, but holde that he hath hight;320Though I be banisshed out of her sight,And by her mouth dampned that I shal deye,†To my behest yet I wil ever obeye.For ever, sithë that the world began,Who-so list lokë, and in storie rede,325He shal ay finde that the trewe manWas put abakke, wher-as the falshedeY-furthered was; for Love taketh non hedeTo slee the trewe, and hath of hem no charge,Wher-as the false goth freely at hir large.330I take recorde of Palamides,The trewe man, the noble worthy knight,That ever loved, and of his payn no relees;Notwithstonding his manhood and his mightLove unto him did ful greet unright;335For ay the bet he did in chevalrye,The more he was hindred by envye.And ay the bet he did in every placeThrough his knighthood and his besy payne,The ferther was he from his lady grace,340For to her mercy mighte he never attayne;And to his deth he coude it not refrayneFor no daungere, but ay obey and serveAs he best coude, plainly, til he sterve.What was the fyne also of Hercules,345For al his conquest and his worthinesse,That was of strengthe alone pereles?For, lyk as bokes of him list expresse,He sette pillers, through his hy prowesse,Away at Gades, for to signifye350That no man mighte him passe in chevalrye.The whiche pillers ben ferre beyonde IndeBeset of golde, for a remembraunce;And, for al that, was he set behindeWith hem that Love liste febly avaunce;355For [he] him sette last upon a daunce,Ageynes whom helpe may no stryf;For al his trouthe, yit he loste his lyf.Phebus also, for al his persaunt light,Whan that he wente here in erthe lowe,360Unto the herte with fresh Venus sightY-wounded was, through Cupydes bowe,And yet his lady liste him not to knowe.Though for her love his herte didë blede,She leet him go, and took of him no hede.365What shal I saye of yonge Piramus?Of trew Tristram, for al his hye renoun?Of Achilles, or of Antonius?Of Arcite eke, or of him Palemoun?What was the endë of hir passioun370But, after sorowe, deeth, and than hir grave?Lo, here the guerdon that these lovers have!But false Jason, with his doublenesse,That was untrewe at Colkos to Medee,And Theseus, rote of unkindënesse,375And with these two eek the false Enee;Lo! thus the falsë, ay in oon degrè,Had in love hir lust and al hir wille;And, save falshood, ther was non other skille.Of Thebes eek the false [knight] Arcyte,380And Demophon †also, for [al] his slouthe,They had hir lust and al that might delyteFor al hir falshode and hir greet untrouthe.Thus ever Love (alas! and that is routhe!)His false leges forthereth what he may,385And sleeth the trewe ungoodly, day by day.For trewe Adon was slayn with the boreAmid the forest, in the grene shade;For Venus love he feltë al the sore.But Vulcanus with her no mercy made;390The foule chorl had many nightes glade,Wher Mars, her worthy knight, her trewe man,To finde mercy, comfort noon he can.Also the yonge fresshe IpomenesSo lusty free [was], as of his corage,395That for to serve with al his herte he cheesAthalans, so fair of hir visage;But Love, alas! quitte him so his wageWith cruel daunger plainly, at the laste,That, with the dethe, guerdonles he paste.400Lo! here the fyne of loveres servyse!Lo! how that Love can his servaunts quyte!Lo! how he can his faythful men despyse,To slee the trewe, and false to respyte!Lo! how he doth the swerd of sorowe byte405In hertes, suche as most his lust obeye,To save the false, and do the trewe deye!For fayth nor ooth, word, ne assuraunce,Trewe mening, awayte, or besinesse,Stille port, ne faythful attendaunce,410Manhood, ne might, in armes worthinesse,Pursute of worship, nor no hy prowesse,In straunge lande ryding, ne travayle,Ful lyte or nought in lovë doth avayle.Peril of dethe, nother in see ne lande,415Hunger ne thurst, sorowe ne sekenesse,Ne grete empryses for to take on hande,Sheding of blode, ne manful hardinesse,Ne ofte woundinge at sautes by distresse,Nor †juparting of lyf, nor deeth also—420Al is for nought, Love taketh no hede therto!But lesings, with hir false flaterye,Through hir falshede, and with hir doublenesse,With tales newe and many fayned lye,By fals semblaunt and counterfet humblesse,425Under colour depeynt with stedfastnesse,With fraude covered under a pitous faceAccepte been now rathest unto grace,And can hem-selve now best magnifyeWith fayned port and fals presumpcioun;430They haunce hir cause with fals surquedryeUnder meninge of double entencioun,To thenken oon in hir opiniounAnd saye another; to sette hemselve alofteAnd hinder trouthe, as it is seyn ful ofte.435The whiche thing I bye now al to dere,Thanked be Venus and the god Cupyde!As it is sene by myn oppressed chere,And by his arowes that stiken in my syde,That, sauf the deth, I nothing abyde440Fro day to day; alas, the harde whyle!Whan ever his dart that him list to fyle,My woful herte for to ryve a-twoFor faute of mercy, and lak of pitèOf her that causeth al my payne and wo445And list not ones, of grace, for to seeUnto my trouthe through her crueltee;And, most of alle, yit I me complayne,That she hath joy to laughen at my peyne!And wilfully hath [she] my deeth y-sworn450Al giltëlees, and wot no cause whySave for the trouthe that I have had afornTo her alone to serve faithfully!O god of lovë! unto thee I cry,And to thy blinde double deitee455Of this gret wrongë I compleyne me,And to thy stormy wilful variaunceY-meynt with chaunge and greet unstablenesse;Now up, now doun, so renning is thy chaunce,That thee to truste may be no sikernesse.460I wyte it nothing but thy doublenesse;And who that is an archer and is †blentMarketh nothing, but sheteth as he †went.And for that he hath no discrecioun,Withoute avys he let his arowe go;465For lakke of sight, and also of resoun,In his shetinge, it happeth ofte so,To hurte his frend rather than his fo;So doth this god, [and] with his sharpe floonThe trewe sleeth, and let the false goon.470And of his wounding this is the worst of alle,Whan he hurteth, he doth so cruel wrecheAnd maketh the seke for to crye and calleUnto his fo, for to been his leche;And hard it is, for a man to seche,475Upon the point of dethe in jupardye,Unto his fo, to finde remedye!Thus fareth it now even by me,That to my fo, that yaf myn herte a wounde,Mote aske grace, mercy, and pitè,480And namëly, ther wher non may be founde!For now my sore my leche wil confounde,And god of kinde so hath set myn ure,My lyves fo to have my wounde in cure!Alas! the whyle now that I was born!485Or that I ever saw the brighte sonne!For now I see, that ful longe aforn,Or I was born, my desteny was sponneBy Parcas sustren, to slee me, if they conne;For they my deth shopen or my sherte490Only for trouthe! I may it not asterte.The mighty goddesse also of NatureThat under god hath the governaunceOf worldly thinges committed to her cure,Disposed hath, through her wys purveyaunce,495To yeve my lady so moche suffisaunceOf al vertues, and therwithal purvydeTo murdre trouthe, hath take Daunger to gyde.For bountè, beautè, shappe, and semeliheed,Prudence, wit, passingly fairnesse,500Benigne port, glad chere with lowliheed,Of womanheed right plenteous largesse,Nature did in her fully empresse,Whan she her wroughte; and alther-last Disdayne,To hinder trouthe, she made her chamberlayne;505Whan Mistrust also, and Fals-Suspeccioun,With Misbeleve, she made for to beCheef of counsayl to this conclusioun,For to exyle Routhe, and eek Pitè,Out of her court to make Mercy flee,510So that Dispyt now holdeth forth her reyne,Through hasty bileve of tales that men feyne.And thus I am, for my trouthe, alas!Murdred and slayn with wordes sharpe and kene,Giltlees, god wot, of al maner trespas,515And lye and blede upon this colde grene.Now mercy, swete! mercy, my lyves quene!And to your grace of mercy yet I preye,In your servyse that your man may deye!But if so be that I shal deye algate,520And that I shal non other mercy have,Yet of my dethe let this be the dateThat by your wille I was brought to my grave;Or hastily, if that you list me save,My sharpe woundes, that ake so and blede,525Of mercy, charme, and also of womanhede.For other charme, playnly, is ther nonBut only mercy, to helpe in this case;For though my woundes blede ever in oon,My lyf, my deeth, standeth in youre grace;530And though my gilt be nothing, alas!I aske mercy in al my beste entente,Redy to dye, if that ye assente.For ther-ayeines shal I never stryveIn worde ne werke; playnly, I ne may;535For lever I have than to be alyveTo dye soothly, and it be her to pay;Ye, though it be this eche same dayOr whan that ever her liste to devyse;Suffyceth me to dye in your servyse.540And god, that knowest the thought of every wightRight as it is, in †al thing thou mayst see,Yet, ere I dye, with all my fulle mightLowly I pray, to graunte[n] unto meThat ye, goodly, fayre, fresshe, and free,545Which slee me only for defaute of routhe,Or that I dye, ye may knowe my trouthe.For that, in sothe, suffyseth unto me,And she it knowe in every circumstaunce;And after, I am wel apayd that she550If that hir list, of dethe to do vengeaunceUntó me, that am under her legeaunce;It sit me not her doom to disobeye,But, at her luste, wilfully to deye.Withoute grucching or rebellioun555In wille or worde, hoolly I assent,Or any maner contradiccioun,Fully to be at her commaundëment;And, if I dyë, in my testamentMy herte I sende, and my spirit also,560What-so-ever she list, with hem to do.And alder-last unto her womanhedeAnd to her mercy me I recommaunde,That lye now here, betwixe hope and drede,Abyding playnly what she list commaunde.565For utterly, (this nis no demaunde),Welcome to me, whyl me lasteth breeth,Right at her choise, wher it be lyf or deeth!In this matere more what mighte I seyn,Sith in her hande and in her wille is al,570Both lyf and deeth, my joy and al my payn?And fynally, my heste holde I shal,Til my spirit, by desteny fatal,Whan that her liste, fro my body wende;Have here my trouthe, and thus I make an ende!'575And with that worde he gan syke as soreLyk as his herte ryve wolde atwayne,And held his pees, and spak a word no more.But, for to see his wo and mortal payne,The teres gonne fro myn eyen rayne580Ful pitously, for very inward routheThat I him saw so languisshing for trouthe.And al this whyle my-self I kepte cloosAmong the bowes, and my-self gan hyde,Til, at the laste, the woful man aroos,585And to a logge wente ther besyde,Where, al the May, his custome was t'abyde,Sole, to complaynen of his paynes kene,Fro yeer to yere, under the bowes grene.And for bicause that it drow to the night590And that the sonne his ark diurnálY-passed was, so that his persaunt light,His brighte bemes and his stremes alWere in the wawes of the water fal,Under the bordure of our ocëan,595His char of golde his cours so swiftly ran:And whyl the twylight and the rowes redeOf Phebus light were dëaurat a lyte,A penne I took, and gan me faste spedeThe woful playntë of this man to wryte600Word by wordë, as he did endyte;Lyk as I herde, and coude him tho reporte,I have here set, your hertes to disporte.If ought be mis, layeth the wyte on me,For I am worthy for to bere the blame605If any thing [here] misreported be,To make this dytè for to seme lameThrough myn unconning; but, to sayn the same,Lyk as this man his complaynt did expresse,I aske mercy and forgivënesse.610And, as I wroot, me thoughte I saw a-ferre,Fer in the weste, lustely appereEsperus, the goodly brighte sterre,So glad, so fair, so persaunt eek of chere,I mene Venus, with her bemes clere,615That, hevy hertes only to releve,Is wont, of custom, for to shewe at eve.And I, as faste, fel doun on my kneeAnd even thus to her gan I to preye:—'O lady Venus! so faire upon to see,620Let not this man for his trouthe deye,For that joy thou haddest whan thou leyeWith Mars thy knight, whan Vulcanus you fond,And with a chayne invisible you bondTogider, bothe twayne, in the same whyle625That al the court above celestialAt youre shame gan for to laughe and smyle!A! fairë lady! welwilly founde at al,Comfort to careful, O goddesse immortal!Be helping now, and do thy diligence630To let the stremes of thyn influenceDescende doun, in forthering of the trouthe,Namely, of hem that lye in sorowe bounde;Shew now thy might, and on hir wo have routheEr fals Daunger slee hem and confounde.635And specially, let thy might be foundeFor to socourë, what-so that thou may,The trewe man that in the herber lay,And alle trewe forther, for his sake,O gladde sterre, O lady Venus myne!640And cause his lady him to grace take.Her herte of stele to mercy so enclyne,Er that thy bemes go up, to declyne,And er that thou now go fro us adoun,Fór that love thou haddest to Adoun!'645And whan that she was gon unto her reste,I roos anon, and hoom to bedde wente,For verily, me thoughte it for the beste;Prayinge thus, in al my best entente,That alle trewe, that be with Daunger shente,650With mercy may, in reles of hir payn,Recured be, er May come eft agayn.And for that I ne may no lenger wake,Farewel, ye lovers alle, that be trewe!Praying to god; and thus my leve I take,655That, er the sonne to-morowe be risen newe,And er he have ayein his rosen hewe,That eche of you may have suche a grace,His owne lady in armes to embrace.I mene thus, that, in al honestee,660Withoute more, ye may togider spekeWhat so ye listë, at good libertee,That eche may to other hir herte breke,On Jelousyë only to be wreke,That hath so longe, of malice and envye,665Werreyed Trouthe with his tirannye.Lenvoy.Princesse, plese it your benigniteeThis litel dytè for to have in mynde!Of womanhedë also for to seeYour trewe man may youre mercy finde;670And Pitè eek, that long hath be behinde,Let him ayein be próvoked to grace;For, by my trouthe, it is ayeines kinde,Fals Daunger for to occupye his place!Go, litel quayre, unto my lyves queen,675And my very hertes soverayne;And be right glad; for she shal thee seen;Suche is thy grace! But I, alas! in payneAm left behinde, and not to whom to playne.For Mercy, Routhe, Grace, and eek Pitè680Exyled be, that I may not attayneRecure to finde of myn adversitè.Explicit.

In May, whan Flora, the fresshe lusty quene,

The soile hath clad in grene, rede, and whyte,

And Phebus gan to shede his stremes shene

Amid the Bole, with al the bemes brighte,

And Lucifer, to chace awey the night,

Ayen the morowe our orizont hath take

To bidde lovers out of hir sleepe awake,

And hertes hevy for to recomforteFrom dreriheed of hevy nightes sorowe,10Nature bad hem ryse, and hem disporte,Ayen the goodly, gladde, greye morowe;And Hope also, with seint Johan to borowe,Bad, in dispyt of daunger and dispeyre,For to take the hoolsom lusty eyre:

And hertes hevy for to recomforte

From dreriheed of hevy nightes sorowe,

Nature bad hem ryse, and hem disporte,

Ayen the goodly, gladde, greye morowe;

And Hope also, with seint Johan to borowe,

Bad, in dispyt of daunger and dispeyre,

For to take the hoolsom lusty eyre:

15And with a sigh I gan for to abreydeOut of my slombre, and sodainly up sterteAs he, alas! that nigh for sorowe deyde,My sekenes sat ay so nigh my herte.But, for to finde socour of my smerte,20Or at the leste som réles of my peyne,That me so sore halt in every veyne,

And with a sigh I gan for to abreyde

Out of my slombre, and sodainly up sterte

As he, alas! that nigh for sorowe deyde,

My sekenes sat ay so nigh my herte.

But, for to finde socour of my smerte,

Or at the leste som réles of my peyne,

That me so sore halt in every veyne,

I roos anon, and thoghte I wolde goonInto the wode, to here the briddes singe,Whan that the misty vapour was agoon25And clere and faire was the morowning;The dewe also, lyk silver in shyningUpon the leves, as any baume swete,Til fyry Tytan, with his persaunt hete,

I roos anon, and thoghte I wolde goon

Into the wode, to here the briddes singe,

Whan that the misty vapour was agoon

And clere and faire was the morowning;

The dewe also, lyk silver in shyning

Upon the leves, as any baume swete,

Til fyry Tytan, with his persaunt hete,

Had dryed up the lusty licour newe30Upon the herbes in the grene mede,And that the floures, of many dyvers hewe,Upon hir stalkes gonne for to spredeAnd for to splaye[n] out hir leves on-bredeAgayn the sonne, gold-burned in his spere,35That doun to hem caste his bemes clere.

Had dryed up the lusty licour newe

Upon the herbes in the grene mede,

And that the floures, of many dyvers hewe,

Upon hir stalkes gonne for to sprede

And for to splaye[n] out hir leves on-brede

Agayn the sonne, gold-burned in his spere,

That doun to hem caste his bemes clere.

And by a river forth I gan costeyOf water clere as berel or cristalTil at the laste I found a litel weyToward a park, enclosed with a wal40In compas rounde, and by a gate smalWho-so that wolde frely mighte goonInto this park, walled with grene stoon.

And by a river forth I gan costey

Of water clere as berel or cristal

Til at the laste I found a litel wey

Toward a park, enclosed with a wal

In compas rounde, and by a gate smal

Who-so that wolde frely mighte goon

Into this park, walled with grene stoon.

And in I wente, to here the briddes song,Whiche on the braunches, bothe in playn and vale,45So loude songe, that al the wode rongLyke as it shulde shiver in peces smale;And, as me thoughte, that the nightingaleWith so gret mighte her voys gan out-wresteRight as her herte for love wolde breste.

And in I wente, to here the briddes song,

Whiche on the braunches, bothe in playn and vale,

So loude songe, that al the wode rong

Lyke as it shulde shiver in peces smale;

And, as me thoughte, that the nightingale

With so gret mighte her voys gan out-wreste

Right as her herte for love wolde breste.

50The soil was playn, smothe, and wonder softeAl oversprad with tapites that NatureHad mad her-selve, celured eek alofteWith bowes grene, the floures for to cure,That in hir beautè they may longe endure55From al assaut of Phebus fervent fere,Whiche in his spere so hote shoon and clere.

The soil was playn, smothe, and wonder softe

Al oversprad with tapites that Nature

Had mad her-selve, celured eek alofte

With bowes grene, the floures for to cure,

That in hir beautè they may longe endure

From al assaut of Phebus fervent fere,

Whiche in his spere so hote shoon and clere.

The eyre attempre, and the smothe windOf Zepherus, among the blossomes whyte,So hoolsom was and norisshing by kind,60That smale buddes, and rounde blomes lyteIn maner gonnen of her brethe delyteTo yeve us hope that hir fruit shal take,Ayens autumpne, redy for to shake.

The eyre attempre, and the smothe wind

Of Zepherus, among the blossomes whyte,

So hoolsom was and norisshing by kind,

That smale buddes, and rounde blomes lyte

In maner gonnen of her brethe delyte

To yeve us hope that hir fruit shal take,

Ayens autumpne, redy for to shake.

I saw ther Daphne, closed under rinde,65Grene laurer, and the hoolsom pyne;The myrre also, that wepeth ever of kinde;The cedres hye, upright as a lyne;The philbert eek, that lowe doth enclyneHer bowes grene to the erthe adoun70Unto her knight, y-called Demophoun.

I saw ther Daphne, closed under rinde,

Grene laurer, and the hoolsom pyne;

The myrre also, that wepeth ever of kinde;

The cedres hye, upright as a lyne;

The philbert eek, that lowe doth enclyne

Her bowes grene to the erthe adoun

Unto her knight, y-called Demophoun.

Ther saw I eek the fresshe hawëthornIn whyte motlè, that so swote doth smelle,Ash, firre, and ook, with many a yong acorn,And many a tree—mo than I can telle;75And, me beforn, I saw a litel welle,That had his cours, as I gan beholde,Under an hille, with quikke stremes colde.

Ther saw I eek the fresshe hawëthorn

In whyte motlè, that so swote doth smelle,

Ash, firre, and ook, with many a yong acorn,

And many a tree—mo than I can telle;

And, me beforn, I saw a litel welle,

That had his cours, as I gan beholde,

Under an hille, with quikke stremes colde.

The gravel gold, the water pure as glas,The bankes rounde, the welle envyroning;80And softe as veluët the yonge grasThat therupon lustily cam springing;The sute of trees aboute compassingHir shadowe caste, closing the welle rounde,And al the herbes growing on the grounde.

The gravel gold, the water pure as glas,

The bankes rounde, the welle envyroning;

And softe as veluët the yonge gras

That therupon lustily cam springing;

The sute of trees aboute compassing

Hir shadowe caste, closing the welle rounde,

And al the herbes growing on the grounde.

85The water was so hoolsom and vertuousThrough might of herbes growing there besyde,Not lyk the welle, wher-as NarcisusY-slayn was, through vengeaunce of Cupyde,Where so covertly he didë hyde90The grayn of cruel dethe upon ech brinke,That deeth mot folowe, who that ever drinke;

The water was so hoolsom and vertuous

Through might of herbes growing there besyde,

Not lyk the welle, wher-as Narcisus

Y-slayn was, through vengeaunce of Cupyde,

Where so covertly he didë hyde

The grayn of cruel dethe upon ech brinke,

That deeth mot folowe, who that ever drinke;

Ne lyk the pittë of the PegacèUnder Pernaso, where poetës slepte;Nor lyk the welle of pure chastitè95Which that Dyane with her nymphes kepte,Whan she naked into the water lepte,That slow Acteon with his houndes felleOnly for he cam so nigh the welle!

Ne lyk the pittë of the Pegacè

Under Pernaso, where poetës slepte;

Nor lyk the welle of pure chastitè

Which that Dyane with her nymphes kepte,

Whan she naked into the water lepte,

That slow Acteon with his houndes felle

Only for he cam so nigh the welle!

Bút this welle, that I here reherce,100So hoolsom was, that it wolde aswageBollen hertes, and the venim perceOf pensifheed, with al the cruel rage,And evermore refresshe the visageOf hem that were in any werinesse105Of greet labour, or fallen in distresse.

Bút this welle, that I here reherce,

100

So hoolsom was, that it wolde aswage

Bollen hertes, and the venim perce

Of pensifheed, with al the cruel rage,

And evermore refresshe the visage

Of hem that were in any werinesse

105

Of greet labour, or fallen in distresse.

And I, that had, through daunger and disdayne,So drye a thrust, thoughte I wolde assayeTo taste a draughte of this welle, or twayne,My bitter langour if it mighte alaye;110And on the banke anon adoun I lay,And with myn heed unto the welle I raughte,And of the water drank I a good draughte;

And I, that had, through daunger and disdayne,

So drye a thrust, thoughte I wolde assaye

To taste a draughte of this welle, or twayne,

My bitter langour if it mighte alaye;

110

And on the banke anon adoun I lay,

And with myn heed unto the welle I raughte,

And of the water drank I a good draughte;

Wherof, me thought, I was refresshed weleOf the brenning that sat so nigh my herte,115That verily anon I gan to feleAn huge part relesed of my smerte;And therwithallë anon up I sterte,And thoughte I wolde walke, and see moreForth in the parke, and in the holtes hore.

Wherof, me thought, I was refresshed wele

Of the brenning that sat so nigh my herte,

115

That verily anon I gan to fele

An huge part relesed of my smerte;

And therwithallë anon up I sterte,

And thoughte I wolde walke, and see more

Forth in the parke, and in the holtes hore.

120And through a laundë as I yede a-paceAnd gan aboute faste to beholde,I found anon a délitable placeThat was beset with treës yonge and olde,Whose names here for me shal not be tolde;125Amidde of whiche stood an herber grene,That benched was, with colours newe and clene.

120

And through a laundë as I yede a-pace

And gan aboute faste to beholde,

I found anon a délitable place

That was beset with treës yonge and olde,

Whose names here for me shal not be tolde;

125

Amidde of whiche stood an herber grene,

That benched was, with colours newe and clene.

Thís herber was ful of floures inde,In-to the whiche as I beholde gan,Betwix an hulfere and a wodëbinde,130As I was war, I saw wher lay a manIn blakke and whyte colour, pale and wan,And wonder deedly also of his hewe,Of hurtes grene and fresshe woundes newe.

Thís herber was ful of floures inde,

In-to the whiche as I beholde gan,

Betwix an hulfere and a wodëbinde,

130

As I was war, I saw wher lay a man

In blakke and whyte colour, pale and wan,

And wonder deedly also of his hewe,

Of hurtes grene and fresshe woundes newe.

And overmore distrayned with sekenesse,135Besyde al this, he was, ful grevously;For upon him he had an hoot accesse,That day by day him shook ful pitously;So that, for constreynt of his maladyAnd hertly wo, thus lying al alone,140It was a deeth for to here him grone.

And overmore distrayned with sekenesse,

135

Besyde al this, he was, ful grevously;

For upon him he had an hoot accesse,

That day by day him shook ful pitously;

So that, for constreynt of his malady

And hertly wo, thus lying al alone,

140

It was a deeth for to here him grone.

Wherof astonied, my foot I gan withdrawe,Greetly wondring what it mighte beThat he so lay, and hadde no felawe,Ne that I coude no wight with him see;145Wherof I hadde routhe, and eek pitè,And gan anon, so softely as I coude,Among the busshes me prively to shroude;

Wherof astonied, my foot I gan withdrawe,

Greetly wondring what it mighte be

That he so lay, and hadde no felawe,

Ne that I coude no wight with him see;

145

Wherof I hadde routhe, and eek pitè,

And gan anon, so softely as I coude,

Among the busshes me prively to shroude;

If that I mighte in any wyse espyeWhat was the cause of his deedly wo,150Or why that he so pitously gan cryeOn his fortune, and on his ure also;With al my might I layde an ere to,Every word to marke, what he seyde,Out of his swough among as he abrayde.

If that I mighte in any wyse espye

What was the cause of his deedly wo,

150

Or why that he so pitously gan crye

On his fortune, and on his ure also;

With al my might I layde an ere to,

Every word to marke, what he seyde,

Out of his swough among as he abrayde.

155But first, if I shulde make menciounOf his persone, and plainly him discryve,He was in sothe, without excepcioun,To speke of manhode, oon the best on-lyve;Ther may no man ayen the trouthe stryve.160For of his tyme, and of his age alsoHe proved was, ther men shulde have ado,

155

But first, if I shulde make mencioun

Of his persone, and plainly him discryve,

He was in sothe, without excepcioun,

To speke of manhode, oon the best on-lyve;

Ther may no man ayen the trouthe stryve.

160

For of his tyme, and of his age also

He proved was, ther men shulde have ado,

For oon the beste there, of brede and lengtheSo wel y-mad by good proporcioun,If he had be in his deliver strengthe;165But thought and seknesse were occasiounThat he thus lay, in lamentacioun,Gruffe on the grounde, in place desolat,Sole by him-self, awhaped and amat.

For oon the beste there, of brede and lengthe

So wel y-mad by good proporcioun,

If he had be in his deliver strengthe;

165

But thought and seknesse were occasioun

That he thus lay, in lamentacioun,

Gruffe on the grounde, in place desolat,

Sole by him-self, awhaped and amat.

And, for me semeth that it is sitting170His wordes al to putte in remembraunce,To me, that herdë al his complayningAnd al the groundë of his woful chaunce,If ther-withal I may you do plesaunce,I wol to you, so as I can, anon,175Lyk as he sayde, reherce hem everichon.

And, for me semeth that it is sitting

170

His wordes al to putte in remembraunce,

To me, that herdë al his complayning

And al the groundë of his woful chaunce,

If ther-withal I may you do plesaunce,

I wol to you, so as I can, anon,

175

Lyk as he sayde, reherce hem everichon.

But who shal helpe me now to complayne?Or who shal now my style gye or lede?O Niobè, let now thy teres rayneIn-to my penne; and helpe eek in this nede,180Thou woful Mirre, that felest my herte bledeOf pitous wo, and myn hand eek quakeWhan that I wryte, for this mannes sake!

But who shal helpe me now to complayne?

Or who shal now my style gye or lede?

O Niobè, let now thy teres rayne

In-to my penne; and helpe eek in this nede,

180

Thou woful Mirre, that felest my herte blede

Of pitous wo, and myn hand eek quake

Whan that I wryte, for this mannes sake!

For unto wo accordeth complayningAnd doleful cherë unto hevinesse;185To sorowe also, syghing and weping,And pitous mourning, unto drerinesse;And whoso that shal wryten of distresseIn party nedeth to knowe felinglyCause and rote of al such malady.

For unto wo accordeth complayning

And doleful cherë unto hevinesse;

185

To sorowe also, syghing and weping,

And pitous mourning, unto drerinesse;

And whoso that shal wryten of distresse

In party nedeth to knowe felingly

Cause and rote of al such malady.

190But I, alas! that am of witte but dulle,And have no knowing of such matere,For to discryve and wryten at the fulleThe woful complaynt, which that ye shal here,But even-lyk as doth a skrivenere195That can no more what that he shal wryte,But as his maister besyde doth endyte;

190

But I, alas! that am of witte but dulle,

And have no knowing of such matere,

For to discryve and wryten at the fulle

The woful complaynt, which that ye shal here,

But even-lyk as doth a skrivenere

195

That can no more what that he shal wryte,

But as his maister besyde doth endyte;

Right so fare I, that of no sentementSaye right naught, as in conclusioun,But as I herde, whan I was present,200This man complayne with a pitous soun;For even-lyk, without addiciounOr disencrees, either more or lesse,For to reherce anon I wol me dresse.

Right so fare I, that of no sentement

Saye right naught, as in conclusioun,

But as I herde, whan I was present,

200

This man complayne with a pitous soun;

For even-lyk, without addicioun

Or disencrees, either more or lesse,

For to reherce anon I wol me dresse.

And if that any now be in this place205That fele in love brenning or fervence,Or hindred werë to his lady graceWith false tonges, that with pestilenceSlee trewe men that never did offenceIn word nor dede, ne in hir entent—210If any suche be here now present,

And if that any now be in this place

205

That fele in love brenning or fervence,

Or hindred werë to his lady grace

With false tonges, that with pestilence

Slee trewe men that never did offence

In word nor dede, ne in hir entent—

210

If any suche be here now present,

Let him of routhe lay to audience,With doleful chere and sobre countenaunce,To here this man, by ful high sentence,His mortal wo and his gret perturbaunce215Cómplayning, now lying in a traunce,With lokes upcaste, and with ruful chere,Th' effect of whiche was as ye shal here.—

Let him of routhe lay to audience,

With doleful chere and sobre countenaunce,

To here this man, by ful high sentence,

His mortal wo and his gret perturbaunce

215

Cómplayning, now lying in a traunce,

With lokes upcaste, and with ruful chere,

Th' effect of whiche was as ye shal here.—

Compleynt.

The thought oppressed with inward sighes sore,The painful lyf, the body languisshing,220The woful gost, the herte rent and tore,The pitous chere, pale in compleyning,The deedly face, lyk ashes in shyning,The salte teres that fro myn eyën falle,Parcel declare grounde of my peynes alle:

The thought oppressed with inward sighes sore,

The painful lyf, the body languisshing,

220

The woful gost, the herte rent and tore,

The pitous chere, pale in compleyning,

The deedly face, lyk ashes in shyning,

The salte teres that fro myn eyën falle,

Parcel declare grounde of my peynes alle:

225Whos herte is grounde to blede in hevinesse;The thought, resceyt of wo and of complaynt;The brest is cheste of dole and drerinesse;The body eek so feble and so faynt;With hote and colde myn acces is so meynt,230That now I chiver for defaute of hete,And, hoot as gleed, now sodainly I swete.

225

Whos herte is grounde to blede in hevinesse;

The thought, resceyt of wo and of complaynt;

The brest is cheste of dole and drerinesse;

The body eek so feble and so faynt;

With hote and colde myn acces is so meynt,

230

That now I chiver for defaute of hete,

And, hoot as gleed, now sodainly I swete.

Now hoot as fyr, now cold as asshes dede,Now hoot fro cold, now cold fro hete agayn;Now cold as ys, now as coles rede235For hete I brenne; and thus, betwixe twayne,I possed am, and al forcast in payne;So that my hete plainly, as I fele,Of grevous cold is causë, every-deel.

Now hoot as fyr, now cold as asshes dede,

Now hoot fro cold, now cold fro hete agayn;

Now cold as ys, now as coles rede

235

For hete I brenne; and thus, betwixe twayne,

I possed am, and al forcast in payne;

So that my hete plainly, as I fele,

Of grevous cold is causë, every-deel.

This is the cold of inward high disdayne,240Cold of dispyt, and cold of cruel hate;This is the cold that doth his besy payneAyeines trouthe to fighte and to debate.This is the cold that wolde the fyr abateOf trewe mening; alas! the harde whyle!245This is the cold that wolde me begyle.

This is the cold of inward high disdayne,

240

Cold of dispyt, and cold of cruel hate;

This is the cold that doth his besy payne

Ayeines trouthe to fighte and to debate.

This is the cold that wolde the fyr abate

Of trewe mening; alas! the harde whyle!

245

This is the cold that wolde me begyle.

For ever the better that in trouthe I menteWith al my mighte faythfully to serve,With herte and al for to be diligent,The lesse thank, alas! I can deserve!250Thus for my trouthe Daunger doth me sterve.For oon that shulde my deeth, of mercy, letteHath mad despyt newe his swerd to whette

For ever the better that in trouthe I mente

With al my mighte faythfully to serve,

With herte and al for to be diligent,

The lesse thank, alas! I can deserve!

250

Thus for my trouthe Daunger doth me sterve.

For oon that shulde my deeth, of mercy, lette

Hath mad despyt newe his swerd to whette

Ayeines me, and his arowes to fyleTo take vengeaunce of wilful crueltè;255And tonges false, through hir sleightly wyle,Han gonne a werre that wil not stinted be;And fals Envye, Wrathe, and Enmitè,Have conspired, ayeines al right and lawe,Of hir malyce, that Trouthe shal be slawe.

Ayeines me, and his arowes to fyle

To take vengeaunce of wilful crueltè;

255

And tonges false, through hir sleightly wyle,

Han gonne a werre that wil not stinted be;

And fals Envye, Wrathe, and Enmitè,

Have conspired, ayeines al right and lawe,

Of hir malyce, that Trouthe shal be slawe.

260And Male-Bouche gan first the tale telle,To slaundre Trouthe, of indignacioun;And Fals-Report so loude rong the belle,That Misbeleve and Fals-Suspeccioun,Have Trouthe brought to his dampnacioun,265So that, alas! wrongfully he dyeth,And Falsnes now his placë occupyeth,

260

And Male-Bouche gan first the tale telle,

To slaundre Trouthe, of indignacioun;

And Fals-Report so loude rong the belle,

That Misbeleve and Fals-Suspeccioun,

Have Trouthe brought to his dampnacioun,

265

So that, alas! wrongfully he dyeth,

And Falsnes now his placë occupyeth,

And entred is in-to Trouthes lond,And hath therof the ful possessioun.O rightful god, that first the trouthe fond,270How may thou suffre such oppressioun,That Falshood shulde have jurisdicciounIn Trouthes right, to slee him giltëlees?In his fraunchyse he may not live in pees.

And entred is in-to Trouthes lond,

And hath therof the ful possessioun.

O rightful god, that first the trouthe fond,

270

How may thou suffre such oppressioun,

That Falshood shulde have jurisdiccioun

In Trouthes right, to slee him giltëlees?

In his fraunchyse he may not live in pees.

Falsly accused, and of his foon forjuged,275Without answere, whyl he was absent,He dampned was, and may not ben excused,For Crueltè sat in jugëmentOf hastinesse, withoute avysëment,And bad Disdayn do execute anon280His jugëment, in presence of his foon.

Falsly accused, and of his foon forjuged,

275

Without answere, whyl he was absent,

He dampned was, and may not ben excused,

For Crueltè sat in jugëment

Of hastinesse, withoute avysëment,

And bad Disdayn do execute anon

280

His jugëment, in presence of his foon.

Attourney noon ne may admitted beenT'ëxcuse Trouthë, ne a word to speke;To fayth or ooth the juge list not seen,There is no gayn, but he wil be wreke.285O lord of trouthe, to thee I calle and clepe;How may thou see, thus in thy presence,Withoute mercy, murdred innocence?

Attourney noon ne may admitted been

T'ëxcuse Trouthë, ne a word to speke;

To fayth or ooth the juge list not seen,

There is no gayn, but he wil be wreke.

285

O lord of trouthe, to thee I calle and clepe;

How may thou see, thus in thy presence,

Withoute mercy, murdred innocence?

Now god, that art of trouthe soverainAnd seëst how I lye for trouthe bounde,290So sore knit in loves fyry chainEven at the deth, through-girt with many a woundeThat lykly are never for to sounde,And for my trouthe am dampned to the deeth,And not abyde, but drawe along the breeth:

Now god, that art of trouthe soverain

And seëst how I lye for trouthe bounde,

290

So sore knit in loves fyry chain

Even at the deth, through-girt with many a wounde

That lykly are never for to sounde,

And for my trouthe am dampned to the deeth,

And not abyde, but drawe along the breeth:

295Consider and see, in thyn eternal right,How that myn herte professed whylom wasFor to be trewe with al my fulle mightOnly to oon, the whiche now, alas!Of voluntè, withoute any trespas,300Myn accusours hath taken unto grace,And cherissheth hem, my deth for to purchace.

295

Consider and see, in thyn eternal right,

How that myn herte professed whylom was

For to be trewe with al my fulle might

Only to oon, the whiche now, alas!

Of voluntè, withoute any trespas,

300

Myn accusours hath taken unto grace,

And cherissheth hem, my deth for to purchace.

What meneth this? what is this wonder ureOf purveyauncë, if I shal it calle,Of god of love, that false hem so assure,305And trewe, alas! doun of the whele ben falle?And yet in sothe, this is the worst of alle,That Falshed wrongfully of Trouthe hath name,And Trouthe ayenward of Falshed bereth the blame.

What meneth this? what is this wonder ure

Of purveyauncë, if I shal it calle,

Of god of love, that false hem so assure,

305

And trewe, alas! doun of the whele ben falle?

And yet in sothe, this is the worst of alle,

That Falshed wrongfully of Trouthe hath name,

And Trouthe ayenward of Falshed bereth the blame.

This blinde chaunce, this stormy aventure,310In lovë hath most his experience;For who that doth with trouthe most his cureShal for his mede finde most offence,That serveth love with al his diligence;For who can faynë, under lowliheed,315Ne fayleth not to finde grace and speed.

This blinde chaunce, this stormy aventure,

310

In lovë hath most his experience;

For who that doth with trouthe most his cure

Shal for his mede finde most offence,

That serveth love with al his diligence;

For who can faynë, under lowliheed,

315

Ne fayleth not to finde grace and speed.

For I loved oon, ful longë sith agoon,With al my herte, body, and ful might,And, to be deed, my herte can not goonFrom his hest, but holde that he hath hight;320Though I be banisshed out of her sight,And by her mouth dampned that I shal deye,†To my behest yet I wil ever obeye.

For I loved oon, ful longë sith agoon,

With al my herte, body, and ful might,

And, to be deed, my herte can not goon

From his hest, but holde that he hath hight;

320

Though I be banisshed out of her sight,

And by her mouth dampned that I shal deye,

†To my behest yet I wil ever obeye.

For ever, sithë that the world began,Who-so list lokë, and in storie rede,325He shal ay finde that the trewe manWas put abakke, wher-as the falshedeY-furthered was; for Love taketh non hedeTo slee the trewe, and hath of hem no charge,Wher-as the false goth freely at hir large.

For ever, sithë that the world began,

Who-so list lokë, and in storie rede,

325

He shal ay finde that the trewe man

Was put abakke, wher-as the falshede

Y-furthered was; for Love taketh non hede

To slee the trewe, and hath of hem no charge,

Wher-as the false goth freely at hir large.

330I take recorde of Palamides,The trewe man, the noble worthy knight,That ever loved, and of his payn no relees;Notwithstonding his manhood and his mightLove unto him did ful greet unright;335For ay the bet he did in chevalrye,The more he was hindred by envye.

330

I take recorde of Palamides,

The trewe man, the noble worthy knight,

That ever loved, and of his payn no relees;

Notwithstonding his manhood and his might

Love unto him did ful greet unright;

335

For ay the bet he did in chevalrye,

The more he was hindred by envye.

And ay the bet he did in every placeThrough his knighthood and his besy payne,The ferther was he from his lady grace,340For to her mercy mighte he never attayne;And to his deth he coude it not refrayneFor no daungere, but ay obey and serveAs he best coude, plainly, til he sterve.

And ay the bet he did in every place

Through his knighthood and his besy payne,

The ferther was he from his lady grace,

340

For to her mercy mighte he never attayne;

And to his deth he coude it not refrayne

For no daungere, but ay obey and serve

As he best coude, plainly, til he sterve.

What was the fyne also of Hercules,345For al his conquest and his worthinesse,That was of strengthe alone pereles?For, lyk as bokes of him list expresse,He sette pillers, through his hy prowesse,Away at Gades, for to signifye350That no man mighte him passe in chevalrye.

What was the fyne also of Hercules,

345

For al his conquest and his worthinesse,

That was of strengthe alone pereles?

For, lyk as bokes of him list expresse,

He sette pillers, through his hy prowesse,

Away at Gades, for to signifye

350

That no man mighte him passe in chevalrye.

The whiche pillers ben ferre beyonde IndeBeset of golde, for a remembraunce;And, for al that, was he set behindeWith hem that Love liste febly avaunce;355For [he] him sette last upon a daunce,Ageynes whom helpe may no stryf;For al his trouthe, yit he loste his lyf.

The whiche pillers ben ferre beyonde Inde

Beset of golde, for a remembraunce;

And, for al that, was he set behinde

With hem that Love liste febly avaunce;

355

For [he] him sette last upon a daunce,

Ageynes whom helpe may no stryf;

For al his trouthe, yit he loste his lyf.

Phebus also, for al his persaunt light,Whan that he wente here in erthe lowe,360Unto the herte with fresh Venus sightY-wounded was, through Cupydes bowe,And yet his lady liste him not to knowe.Though for her love his herte didë blede,She leet him go, and took of him no hede.

Phebus also, for al his persaunt light,

Whan that he wente here in erthe lowe,

360

Unto the herte with fresh Venus sight

Y-wounded was, through Cupydes bowe,

And yet his lady liste him not to knowe.

Though for her love his herte didë blede,

She leet him go, and took of him no hede.

365What shal I saye of yonge Piramus?Of trew Tristram, for al his hye renoun?Of Achilles, or of Antonius?Of Arcite eke, or of him Palemoun?What was the endë of hir passioun370But, after sorowe, deeth, and than hir grave?Lo, here the guerdon that these lovers have!

365

What shal I saye of yonge Piramus?

Of trew Tristram, for al his hye renoun?

Of Achilles, or of Antonius?

Of Arcite eke, or of him Palemoun?

What was the endë of hir passioun

370

But, after sorowe, deeth, and than hir grave?

Lo, here the guerdon that these lovers have!

But false Jason, with his doublenesse,That was untrewe at Colkos to Medee,And Theseus, rote of unkindënesse,375And with these two eek the false Enee;Lo! thus the falsë, ay in oon degrè,Had in love hir lust and al hir wille;And, save falshood, ther was non other skille.

But false Jason, with his doublenesse,

That was untrewe at Colkos to Medee,

And Theseus, rote of unkindënesse,

375

And with these two eek the false Enee;

Lo! thus the falsë, ay in oon degrè,

Had in love hir lust and al hir wille;

And, save falshood, ther was non other skille.

Of Thebes eek the false [knight] Arcyte,380And Demophon †also, for [al] his slouthe,They had hir lust and al that might delyteFor al hir falshode and hir greet untrouthe.Thus ever Love (alas! and that is routhe!)His false leges forthereth what he may,385And sleeth the trewe ungoodly, day by day.

Of Thebes eek the false [knight] Arcyte,

380

And Demophon †also, for [al] his slouthe,

They had hir lust and al that might delyte

For al hir falshode and hir greet untrouthe.

Thus ever Love (alas! and that is routhe!)

His false leges forthereth what he may,

385

And sleeth the trewe ungoodly, day by day.

For trewe Adon was slayn with the boreAmid the forest, in the grene shade;For Venus love he feltë al the sore.But Vulcanus with her no mercy made;390The foule chorl had many nightes glade,Wher Mars, her worthy knight, her trewe man,To finde mercy, comfort noon he can.

For trewe Adon was slayn with the bore

Amid the forest, in the grene shade;

For Venus love he feltë al the sore.

But Vulcanus with her no mercy made;

390

The foule chorl had many nightes glade,

Wher Mars, her worthy knight, her trewe man,

To finde mercy, comfort noon he can.

Also the yonge fresshe IpomenesSo lusty free [was], as of his corage,395That for to serve with al his herte he cheesAthalans, so fair of hir visage;But Love, alas! quitte him so his wageWith cruel daunger plainly, at the laste,That, with the dethe, guerdonles he paste.

Also the yonge fresshe Ipomenes

So lusty free [was], as of his corage,

395

That for to serve with al his herte he chees

Athalans, so fair of hir visage;

But Love, alas! quitte him so his wage

With cruel daunger plainly, at the laste,

That, with the dethe, guerdonles he paste.

400Lo! here the fyne of loveres servyse!Lo! how that Love can his servaunts quyte!Lo! how he can his faythful men despyse,To slee the trewe, and false to respyte!Lo! how he doth the swerd of sorowe byte405In hertes, suche as most his lust obeye,To save the false, and do the trewe deye!

400

Lo! here the fyne of loveres servyse!

Lo! how that Love can his servaunts quyte!

Lo! how he can his faythful men despyse,

To slee the trewe, and false to respyte!

Lo! how he doth the swerd of sorowe byte

405

In hertes, suche as most his lust obeye,

To save the false, and do the trewe deye!

For fayth nor ooth, word, ne assuraunce,Trewe mening, awayte, or besinesse,Stille port, ne faythful attendaunce,410Manhood, ne might, in armes worthinesse,Pursute of worship, nor no hy prowesse,In straunge lande ryding, ne travayle,Ful lyte or nought in lovë doth avayle.

For fayth nor ooth, word, ne assuraunce,

Trewe mening, awayte, or besinesse,

Stille port, ne faythful attendaunce,

410

Manhood, ne might, in armes worthinesse,

Pursute of worship, nor no hy prowesse,

In straunge lande ryding, ne travayle,

Ful lyte or nought in lovë doth avayle.

Peril of dethe, nother in see ne lande,415Hunger ne thurst, sorowe ne sekenesse,Ne grete empryses for to take on hande,Sheding of blode, ne manful hardinesse,Ne ofte woundinge at sautes by distresse,Nor †juparting of lyf, nor deeth also—420Al is for nought, Love taketh no hede therto!

Peril of dethe, nother in see ne lande,

415

Hunger ne thurst, sorowe ne sekenesse,

Ne grete empryses for to take on hande,

Sheding of blode, ne manful hardinesse,

Ne ofte woundinge at sautes by distresse,

Nor †juparting of lyf, nor deeth also—

420

Al is for nought, Love taketh no hede therto!

But lesings, with hir false flaterye,Through hir falshede, and with hir doublenesse,With tales newe and many fayned lye,By fals semblaunt and counterfet humblesse,425Under colour depeynt with stedfastnesse,With fraude covered under a pitous faceAccepte been now rathest unto grace,

But lesings, with hir false flaterye,

Through hir falshede, and with hir doublenesse,

With tales newe and many fayned lye,

By fals semblaunt and counterfet humblesse,

425

Under colour depeynt with stedfastnesse,

With fraude covered under a pitous face

Accepte been now rathest unto grace,

And can hem-selve now best magnifyeWith fayned port and fals presumpcioun;430They haunce hir cause with fals surquedryeUnder meninge of double entencioun,To thenken oon in hir opiniounAnd saye another; to sette hemselve alofteAnd hinder trouthe, as it is seyn ful ofte.

And can hem-selve now best magnifye

With fayned port and fals presumpcioun;

430

They haunce hir cause with fals surquedrye

Under meninge of double entencioun,

To thenken oon in hir opinioun

And saye another; to sette hemselve alofte

And hinder trouthe, as it is seyn ful ofte.

435The whiche thing I bye now al to dere,Thanked be Venus and the god Cupyde!As it is sene by myn oppressed chere,And by his arowes that stiken in my syde,That, sauf the deth, I nothing abyde440Fro day to day; alas, the harde whyle!Whan ever his dart that him list to fyle,

435

The whiche thing I bye now al to dere,

Thanked be Venus and the god Cupyde!

As it is sene by myn oppressed chere,

And by his arowes that stiken in my syde,

That, sauf the deth, I nothing abyde

440

Fro day to day; alas, the harde whyle!

Whan ever his dart that him list to fyle,

My woful herte for to ryve a-twoFor faute of mercy, and lak of pitèOf her that causeth al my payne and wo445And list not ones, of grace, for to seeUnto my trouthe through her crueltee;And, most of alle, yit I me complayne,That she hath joy to laughen at my peyne!

My woful herte for to ryve a-two

For faute of mercy, and lak of pitè

Of her that causeth al my payne and wo

445

And list not ones, of grace, for to see

Unto my trouthe through her crueltee;

And, most of alle, yit I me complayne,

That she hath joy to laughen at my peyne!

And wilfully hath [she] my deeth y-sworn450Al giltëlees, and wot no cause whySave for the trouthe that I have had afornTo her alone to serve faithfully!O god of lovë! unto thee I cry,And to thy blinde double deitee455Of this gret wrongë I compleyne me,

And wilfully hath [she] my deeth y-sworn

450

Al giltëlees, and wot no cause why

Save for the trouthe that I have had aforn

To her alone to serve faithfully!

O god of lovë! unto thee I cry,

And to thy blinde double deitee

455

Of this gret wrongë I compleyne me,

And to thy stormy wilful variaunceY-meynt with chaunge and greet unstablenesse;Now up, now doun, so renning is thy chaunce,That thee to truste may be no sikernesse.460I wyte it nothing but thy doublenesse;And who that is an archer and is †blentMarketh nothing, but sheteth as he †went.

And to thy stormy wilful variaunce

Y-meynt with chaunge and greet unstablenesse;

Now up, now doun, so renning is thy chaunce,

That thee to truste may be no sikernesse.

460

I wyte it nothing but thy doublenesse;

And who that is an archer and is †blent

Marketh nothing, but sheteth as he †went.

And for that he hath no discrecioun,Withoute avys he let his arowe go;465For lakke of sight, and also of resoun,In his shetinge, it happeth ofte so,To hurte his frend rather than his fo;So doth this god, [and] with his sharpe floonThe trewe sleeth, and let the false goon.

And for that he hath no discrecioun,

Withoute avys he let his arowe go;

465

For lakke of sight, and also of resoun,

In his shetinge, it happeth ofte so,

To hurte his frend rather than his fo;

So doth this god, [and] with his sharpe floon

The trewe sleeth, and let the false goon.

470And of his wounding this is the worst of alle,Whan he hurteth, he doth so cruel wrecheAnd maketh the seke for to crye and calleUnto his fo, for to been his leche;And hard it is, for a man to seche,475Upon the point of dethe in jupardye,Unto his fo, to finde remedye!

470

And of his wounding this is the worst of alle,

Whan he hurteth, he doth so cruel wreche

And maketh the seke for to crye and calle

Unto his fo, for to been his leche;

And hard it is, for a man to seche,

475

Upon the point of dethe in jupardye,

Unto his fo, to finde remedye!

Thus fareth it now even by me,That to my fo, that yaf myn herte a wounde,Mote aske grace, mercy, and pitè,480And namëly, ther wher non may be founde!For now my sore my leche wil confounde,And god of kinde so hath set myn ure,My lyves fo to have my wounde in cure!

Thus fareth it now even by me,

That to my fo, that yaf myn herte a wounde,

Mote aske grace, mercy, and pitè,

480

And namëly, ther wher non may be founde!

For now my sore my leche wil confounde,

And god of kinde so hath set myn ure,

My lyves fo to have my wounde in cure!

Alas! the whyle now that I was born!485Or that I ever saw the brighte sonne!For now I see, that ful longe aforn,Or I was born, my desteny was sponneBy Parcas sustren, to slee me, if they conne;For they my deth shopen or my sherte490Only for trouthe! I may it not asterte.

Alas! the whyle now that I was born!

485

Or that I ever saw the brighte sonne!

For now I see, that ful longe aforn,

Or I was born, my desteny was sponne

By Parcas sustren, to slee me, if they conne;

For they my deth shopen or my sherte

490

Only for trouthe! I may it not asterte.

The mighty goddesse also of NatureThat under god hath the governaunceOf worldly thinges committed to her cure,Disposed hath, through her wys purveyaunce,495To yeve my lady so moche suffisaunceOf al vertues, and therwithal purvydeTo murdre trouthe, hath take Daunger to gyde.

The mighty goddesse also of Nature

That under god hath the governaunce

Of worldly thinges committed to her cure,

Disposed hath, through her wys purveyaunce,

495

To yeve my lady so moche suffisaunce

Of al vertues, and therwithal purvyde

To murdre trouthe, hath take Daunger to gyde.

For bountè, beautè, shappe, and semeliheed,Prudence, wit, passingly fairnesse,500Benigne port, glad chere with lowliheed,Of womanheed right plenteous largesse,Nature did in her fully empresse,Whan she her wroughte; and alther-last Disdayne,To hinder trouthe, she made her chamberlayne;

For bountè, beautè, shappe, and semeliheed,

Prudence, wit, passingly fairnesse,

500

Benigne port, glad chere with lowliheed,

Of womanheed right plenteous largesse,

Nature did in her fully empresse,

Whan she her wroughte; and alther-last Disdayne,

To hinder trouthe, she made her chamberlayne;

505Whan Mistrust also, and Fals-Suspeccioun,With Misbeleve, she made for to beCheef of counsayl to this conclusioun,For to exyle Routhe, and eek Pitè,Out of her court to make Mercy flee,510So that Dispyt now holdeth forth her reyne,Through hasty bileve of tales that men feyne.

505

Whan Mistrust also, and Fals-Suspeccioun,

With Misbeleve, she made for to be

Cheef of counsayl to this conclusioun,

For to exyle Routhe, and eek Pitè,

Out of her court to make Mercy flee,

510

So that Dispyt now holdeth forth her reyne,

Through hasty bileve of tales that men feyne.

And thus I am, for my trouthe, alas!Murdred and slayn with wordes sharpe and kene,Giltlees, god wot, of al maner trespas,515And lye and blede upon this colde grene.Now mercy, swete! mercy, my lyves quene!And to your grace of mercy yet I preye,In your servyse that your man may deye!

And thus I am, for my trouthe, alas!

Murdred and slayn with wordes sharpe and kene,

Giltlees, god wot, of al maner trespas,

515

And lye and blede upon this colde grene.

Now mercy, swete! mercy, my lyves quene!

And to your grace of mercy yet I preye,

In your servyse that your man may deye!

But if so be that I shal deye algate,520And that I shal non other mercy have,Yet of my dethe let this be the dateThat by your wille I was brought to my grave;Or hastily, if that you list me save,My sharpe woundes, that ake so and blede,525Of mercy, charme, and also of womanhede.

But if so be that I shal deye algate,

520

And that I shal non other mercy have,

Yet of my dethe let this be the date

That by your wille I was brought to my grave;

Or hastily, if that you list me save,

My sharpe woundes, that ake so and blede,

525

Of mercy, charme, and also of womanhede.

For other charme, playnly, is ther nonBut only mercy, to helpe in this case;For though my woundes blede ever in oon,My lyf, my deeth, standeth in youre grace;530And though my gilt be nothing, alas!I aske mercy in al my beste entente,Redy to dye, if that ye assente.

For other charme, playnly, is ther non

But only mercy, to helpe in this case;

For though my woundes blede ever in oon,

My lyf, my deeth, standeth in youre grace;

530

And though my gilt be nothing, alas!

I aske mercy in al my beste entente,

Redy to dye, if that ye assente.

For ther-ayeines shal I never stryveIn worde ne werke; playnly, I ne may;535For lever I have than to be alyveTo dye soothly, and it be her to pay;Ye, though it be this eche same dayOr whan that ever her liste to devyse;Suffyceth me to dye in your servyse.

For ther-ayeines shal I never stryve

In worde ne werke; playnly, I ne may;

535

For lever I have than to be alyve

To dye soothly, and it be her to pay;

Ye, though it be this eche same day

Or whan that ever her liste to devyse;

Suffyceth me to dye in your servyse.

540And god, that knowest the thought of every wightRight as it is, in †al thing thou mayst see,Yet, ere I dye, with all my fulle mightLowly I pray, to graunte[n] unto meThat ye, goodly, fayre, fresshe, and free,545Which slee me only for defaute of routhe,Or that I dye, ye may knowe my trouthe.

540

And god, that knowest the thought of every wight

Right as it is, in †al thing thou mayst see,

Yet, ere I dye, with all my fulle might

Lowly I pray, to graunte[n] unto me

That ye, goodly, fayre, fresshe, and free,

545

Which slee me only for defaute of routhe,

Or that I dye, ye may knowe my trouthe.

For that, in sothe, suffyseth unto me,And she it knowe in every circumstaunce;And after, I am wel apayd that she550If that hir list, of dethe to do vengeaunceUntó me, that am under her legeaunce;It sit me not her doom to disobeye,But, at her luste, wilfully to deye.

For that, in sothe, suffyseth unto me,

And she it knowe in every circumstaunce;

And after, I am wel apayd that she

550

If that hir list, of dethe to do vengeaunce

Untó me, that am under her legeaunce;

It sit me not her doom to disobeye,

But, at her luste, wilfully to deye.

Withoute grucching or rebellioun555In wille or worde, hoolly I assent,Or any maner contradiccioun,Fully to be at her commaundëment;And, if I dyë, in my testamentMy herte I sende, and my spirit also,560What-so-ever she list, with hem to do.

Withoute grucching or rebellioun

555

In wille or worde, hoolly I assent,

Or any maner contradiccioun,

Fully to be at her commaundëment;

And, if I dyë, in my testament

My herte I sende, and my spirit also,

560

What-so-ever she list, with hem to do.

And alder-last unto her womanhedeAnd to her mercy me I recommaunde,That lye now here, betwixe hope and drede,Abyding playnly what she list commaunde.565For utterly, (this nis no demaunde),Welcome to me, whyl me lasteth breeth,Right at her choise, wher it be lyf or deeth!

And alder-last unto her womanhede

And to her mercy me I recommaunde,

That lye now here, betwixe hope and drede,

Abyding playnly what she list commaunde.

565

For utterly, (this nis no demaunde),

Welcome to me, whyl me lasteth breeth,

Right at her choise, wher it be lyf or deeth!

In this matere more what mighte I seyn,Sith in her hande and in her wille is al,570Both lyf and deeth, my joy and al my payn?And fynally, my heste holde I shal,Til my spirit, by desteny fatal,Whan that her liste, fro my body wende;Have here my trouthe, and thus I make an ende!'

In this matere more what mighte I seyn,

Sith in her hande and in her wille is al,

570

Both lyf and deeth, my joy and al my payn?

And fynally, my heste holde I shal,

Til my spirit, by desteny fatal,

Whan that her liste, fro my body wende;

Have here my trouthe, and thus I make an ende!'

575And with that worde he gan syke as soreLyk as his herte ryve wolde atwayne,And held his pees, and spak a word no more.But, for to see his wo and mortal payne,The teres gonne fro myn eyen rayne580Ful pitously, for very inward routheThat I him saw so languisshing for trouthe.

575

And with that worde he gan syke as sore

Lyk as his herte ryve wolde atwayne,

And held his pees, and spak a word no more.

But, for to see his wo and mortal payne,

The teres gonne fro myn eyen rayne

580

Ful pitously, for very inward routhe

That I him saw so languisshing for trouthe.

And al this whyle my-self I kepte cloosAmong the bowes, and my-self gan hyde,Til, at the laste, the woful man aroos,585And to a logge wente ther besyde,Where, al the May, his custome was t'abyde,Sole, to complaynen of his paynes kene,Fro yeer to yere, under the bowes grene.

And al this whyle my-self I kepte cloos

Among the bowes, and my-self gan hyde,

Til, at the laste, the woful man aroos,

585

And to a logge wente ther besyde,

Where, al the May, his custome was t'abyde,

Sole, to complaynen of his paynes kene,

Fro yeer to yere, under the bowes grene.

And for bicause that it drow to the night590And that the sonne his ark diurnálY-passed was, so that his persaunt light,His brighte bemes and his stremes alWere in the wawes of the water fal,Under the bordure of our ocëan,595His char of golde his cours so swiftly ran:

And for bicause that it drow to the night

590

And that the sonne his ark diurnál

Y-passed was, so that his persaunt light,

His brighte bemes and his stremes al

Were in the wawes of the water fal,

Under the bordure of our ocëan,

595

His char of golde his cours so swiftly ran:

And whyl the twylight and the rowes redeOf Phebus light were dëaurat a lyte,A penne I took, and gan me faste spedeThe woful playntë of this man to wryte600Word by wordë, as he did endyte;Lyk as I herde, and coude him tho reporte,I have here set, your hertes to disporte.

And whyl the twylight and the rowes rede

Of Phebus light were dëaurat a lyte,

A penne I took, and gan me faste spede

The woful playntë of this man to wryte

600

Word by wordë, as he did endyte;

Lyk as I herde, and coude him tho reporte,

I have here set, your hertes to disporte.

If ought be mis, layeth the wyte on me,For I am worthy for to bere the blame605If any thing [here] misreported be,To make this dytè for to seme lameThrough myn unconning; but, to sayn the same,Lyk as this man his complaynt did expresse,I aske mercy and forgivënesse.

If ought be mis, layeth the wyte on me,

For I am worthy for to bere the blame

605

If any thing [here] misreported be,

To make this dytè for to seme lame

Through myn unconning; but, to sayn the same,

Lyk as this man his complaynt did expresse,

I aske mercy and forgivënesse.

610And, as I wroot, me thoughte I saw a-ferre,Fer in the weste, lustely appereEsperus, the goodly brighte sterre,So glad, so fair, so persaunt eek of chere,I mene Venus, with her bemes clere,615That, hevy hertes only to releve,Is wont, of custom, for to shewe at eve.

610

And, as I wroot, me thoughte I saw a-ferre,

Fer in the weste, lustely appere

Esperus, the goodly brighte sterre,

So glad, so fair, so persaunt eek of chere,

I mene Venus, with her bemes clere,

615

That, hevy hertes only to releve,

Is wont, of custom, for to shewe at eve.

And I, as faste, fel doun on my kneeAnd even thus to her gan I to preye:—'O lady Venus! so faire upon to see,620Let not this man for his trouthe deye,For that joy thou haddest whan thou leyeWith Mars thy knight, whan Vulcanus you fond,And with a chayne invisible you bond

And I, as faste, fel doun on my knee

And even thus to her gan I to preye:—

'O lady Venus! so faire upon to see,

620

Let not this man for his trouthe deye,

For that joy thou haddest whan thou leye

With Mars thy knight, whan Vulcanus you fond,

And with a chayne invisible you bond

Togider, bothe twayne, in the same whyle625That al the court above celestialAt youre shame gan for to laughe and smyle!A! fairë lady! welwilly founde at al,Comfort to careful, O goddesse immortal!Be helping now, and do thy diligence630To let the stremes of thyn influence

Togider, bothe twayne, in the same whyle

625

That al the court above celestial

At youre shame gan for to laughe and smyle!

A! fairë lady! welwilly founde at al,

Comfort to careful, O goddesse immortal!

Be helping now, and do thy diligence

630

To let the stremes of thyn influence

Descende doun, in forthering of the trouthe,Namely, of hem that lye in sorowe bounde;Shew now thy might, and on hir wo have routheEr fals Daunger slee hem and confounde.635And specially, let thy might be foundeFor to socourë, what-so that thou may,The trewe man that in the herber lay,

Descende doun, in forthering of the trouthe,

Namely, of hem that lye in sorowe bounde;

Shew now thy might, and on hir wo have routhe

Er fals Daunger slee hem and confounde.

635

And specially, let thy might be founde

For to socourë, what-so that thou may,

The trewe man that in the herber lay,

And alle trewe forther, for his sake,O gladde sterre, O lady Venus myne!640And cause his lady him to grace take.Her herte of stele to mercy so enclyne,Er that thy bemes go up, to declyne,And er that thou now go fro us adoun,Fór that love thou haddest to Adoun!'

And alle trewe forther, for his sake,

O gladde sterre, O lady Venus myne!

640

And cause his lady him to grace take.

Her herte of stele to mercy so enclyne,

Er that thy bemes go up, to declyne,

And er that thou now go fro us adoun,

Fór that love thou haddest to Adoun!'

645And whan that she was gon unto her reste,I roos anon, and hoom to bedde wente,For verily, me thoughte it for the beste;Prayinge thus, in al my best entente,That alle trewe, that be with Daunger shente,650With mercy may, in reles of hir payn,Recured be, er May come eft agayn.

645

And whan that she was gon unto her reste,

I roos anon, and hoom to bedde wente,

For verily, me thoughte it for the beste;

Prayinge thus, in al my best entente,

That alle trewe, that be with Daunger shente,

650

With mercy may, in reles of hir payn,

Recured be, er May come eft agayn.

And for that I ne may no lenger wake,Farewel, ye lovers alle, that be trewe!Praying to god; and thus my leve I take,655That, er the sonne to-morowe be risen newe,And er he have ayein his rosen hewe,That eche of you may have suche a grace,His owne lady in armes to embrace.

And for that I ne may no lenger wake,

Farewel, ye lovers alle, that be trewe!

Praying to god; and thus my leve I take,

655

That, er the sonne to-morowe be risen newe,

And er he have ayein his rosen hewe,

That eche of you may have suche a grace,

His owne lady in armes to embrace.

I mene thus, that, in al honestee,660Withoute more, ye may togider spekeWhat so ye listë, at good libertee,That eche may to other hir herte breke,On Jelousyë only to be wreke,That hath so longe, of malice and envye,665Werreyed Trouthe with his tirannye.

I mene thus, that, in al honestee,

660

Withoute more, ye may togider speke

What so ye listë, at good libertee,

That eche may to other hir herte breke,

On Jelousyë only to be wreke,

That hath so longe, of malice and envye,

665

Werreyed Trouthe with his tirannye.

Lenvoy.

Princesse, plese it your benigniteeThis litel dytè for to have in mynde!Of womanhedë also for to seeYour trewe man may youre mercy finde;670And Pitè eek, that long hath be behinde,Let him ayein be próvoked to grace;For, by my trouthe, it is ayeines kinde,Fals Daunger for to occupye his place!

Princesse, plese it your benignitee

This litel dytè for to have in mynde!

Of womanhedë also for to see

Your trewe man may youre mercy finde;

670

And Pitè eek, that long hath be behinde,

Let him ayein be próvoked to grace;

For, by my trouthe, it is ayeines kinde,

Fals Daunger for to occupye his place!

Go, litel quayre, unto my lyves queen,675And my very hertes soverayne;And be right glad; for she shal thee seen;Suche is thy grace! But I, alas! in payneAm left behinde, and not to whom to playne.For Mercy, Routhe, Grace, and eek Pitè680Exyled be, that I may not attayneRecure to finde of myn adversitè.

Go, litel quayre, unto my lyves queen,

675

And my very hertes soverayne;

And be right glad; for she shal thee seen;

Suche is thy grace! But I, alas! in payne

Am left behinde, and not to whom to playne.

For Mercy, Routhe, Grace, and eek Pitè

680

Exyled be, that I may not attayne

Recure to finde of myn adversitè.

Explicit.

FromTh. (Thynne, ed. 1532);collated withF. (Fairfax 16); B. (Bodley 638,imperfect); T. (Tanner 346); D. (Digby 181); S. (Arch. Selden B. 24);I have also consultedAd. (Addit. 16165);andP. (Pepys 2006). 2. Th. reed; F. D. rede. 4. S. his (for 2ndthe). 5. Th. away; F. awey. 6. Th. D. orizont; F. T. S. orisont. 7. Th. bidde al; MSS.om.al. F. T.om.lovers. 10. Th. bade. F. T. D. S.om. 2ndhem. 11. D. gladde;restglad.Allgrey (orgray). 13. Th. Bade; MSS. Bad.Alldispyte (dispite). 14. S. go take (rest om.go). 15. Th. syghe. 16. F. out stert. 18. Th. sicknesse; MSS. sekenes. F. S. sat;restsate. Th. aye. Th. nye.

20. F. atte; T. at;restat the. S. sum;restsome, summe. P. reles; D. relece; T. relese; F. relesse; Th. release. 21. F. halt; Th. halte. 22. T. S. roos;restrose. Th. thought. 23. Th. wodde; S. wod;restwode. Th. byrdes. 24. Th. T. D. vapoure; F. S. vapour. F. D. agoon; T. Th. agone. 25. F. morownyng; T. morownynge; Th. moronyng. 26. Th. lyke; F. lykyng (!);restlike;readlyk. 27. Th. leaues. 32. F. the (forhir). 33. Th. D. splaye; F. T. S. splay;readsplayen. F. S. on;restin. 34. Th. T. Agayne; F. Ageyn; D. Ayen. S. gold;restgolde. 35. Th. T. downe; F. dovn; D. down; S. doun. 36. Th. forthe. 37. F. berel; S. beriall; Th. byrel; T. byrell; D. birele. 39. D. S. Toward; F. Tovard; Th. T. Towarde. 40. Th. compace; MSS. compas. 41. T. myghte; S. michty (!);restmight. Th. gone; F. goon. 42. S. park;restparke. 43. T. wente;restwent. Th. byrdes;restbriddes. S. song;restsonge. 44. Th. branches; F. T. D. braunches. Th. and (correctly);rest omit. 45. Th. sange; S. sang; P. song; F. T. D. songe. Th. woode. S. P. rong;restronge. 47. T. thoughte; Th. F. D. thought.

48. T. myghte;restmight. T. D. wraste; S. brest; Th. F. wrest. 49. T. breste; D. braste; Th. F. brest; S. to-brest. 51. F. T. P. tapites; Th. D. tapettes. 52. Th. F. T.-selfe(betterselve). F. celured; D. coloured; S. siluered; Th. T. couered. 54. Th. beautie. F. T. may not (formay). 55. S. assaut;restassaute. 56. Th. sphere; hotte. Th. F. T. D. shone (readshoon). 57, 59. S. wynd, kynd;restwynde, kynde. 58. S. P. among;restamonge. T. blossomes; D. blossoms; Th. blosomes; F. blosmes. 59.Allholsom (holsum). Th. F. T. D. and so; S.om.so. 60. F. T. blomes; S. blomys; Th. blosmes; D. blossoms. 61.Allgan, can;seel. 579. 62. S. that;rest om.F. their; T. theire; Th. D. there; S. thai;readhir. 63. F. D. Ayens; Th. Ayenst; T. Agayne. 64. T. S. saw; Th. F. D. sawe (!). F. ther;restthe;cf.l. 71. S. Daphin;restDaphene;readDaphne. 65. Th. holsome;restholsom (-sum). 68. F. phibert; Th. T. filberte; D. filberde; S. filbard. Th. F. dothe. 69. Th. S. adoun;restdoun. 70. F. I-called;restcalled. 71. Th. T. D. sawe. P. hawethorn;resthawthorn, hawthorne, hauthorne. 72. S. motle; F. motele;restmotley. (Readswoot?). Th. dothe smel. 73.AllAsshe;readAsh.Alloke;readook. S. ȝong; T. fressh (!);restyonge. S. accorne;restacorne.

74. Th. tel. 75. S. beforn; D. before;restbeforne. Th. sawe; wel. 76. T. cours; S. courss;restcourse. 77. Th. hyl; quicke streames. 78. S. P. gold; D. colde;restgolde. 78, 80. F. glas, gras; Th. glasse, grasse. 79. wel. 80. Ad. velowet. 81. Th. T. D. lustely (T. lustily) came (cam) springyng; F. lustely gan syng (!); S. lustily gan spryng. 83. Th. F. wel; T. D. welle. 85.From this point I silently correct obvious errors in spelling ofTh.by collation with theMSS. Th. holsome. S. and;restand so. 86. Th. Thorowe. S. there;rest omit. 87, 92, 94.I readlykforlyke. 87. F. T. D. Narcius (!). 89. T. dyde;restdyd, did. 90. S. cruell;rest omit. 95. Th. that;restas. F. T. P. his;resther. 101. S. perce; D. perce; Th. peerce; F. T. perysh (!) 103. Th. ouermore (!).

107. Th. F. thrust; T. thurste; P. D. thurst. 110. S. adoun; Th. F. P. downe;restdown, doun. 113-126. S.omits. 122. Th. delectable. 127. D. ynde; T. Iende; F. cende (?); Th. gende; S. of Inde. 138. S. constreynt;restconstraynyng.

147. Th. priuely me;restme priuely. (Readbusshes prively me shroude?). 151. Th.om. 2ndhis. 154.Foramongperhaps readanon. 159. S. the;rest omit. 162. Th. therto;restthere. 168. F. P. awaped. 175. D. hem; S. thame;rest om.

179. Th.om.this. 181.So all.184. F. delful; T. delefull; S. dulefull; D. doilfull. 187. S. quhoso;restwho. S. writen;restwrite (wryte). 191. D. no knowyng haue;resthaue no knowyng. 192. S. writen;restwrite (wryte). 198. F. S. as;rest om.202. Th. disencrease; F. disencrese; T. disencrece; D. disencrees. 205. S. louyng. 206. F. hindered; S. hinderit;resthindred.

212. F. T. deleful; S. dulfull; D. wofull. 214. S. grete;rest om.216. S. with full;rest omit(I omitfull).Compleynt;inF.only. 225. D. grownded. 227. F. S. dule; D. dooll. 230. Th. T. chyuer; F. shyuer; D. chevir; S. chill. 233. T. D. fro; S. from; Th. F. for (twice). 234. Th. T. D. yse; F. Ise; S. Iss. 239. S. distress. 241.SoD. P.; S. doth his besyness; Th. euer doth his besy payne; F. euere doth besy peyn; T. euur doth his bysy hate (sic). 242. T. Agaynes; F. D. Ayens; Th. Ayenst; S. Aȝeynis. S. and to;rest om.to. 243. Th.om.wolde.

245. T. wolde; S. wold; Th. D. wol; F. will. 247. T. myghte; Th. F. might. 248. S. for;rest om.251, 252. T. D. lette, whette; Th. F. let, whet.Alldespite. 253. S. Aȝeynes; T. Agaynes; F. D. Ayens; Th. Agaynst. 257. P. of wrath. 258. S. aȝeynes; T. agaynes; F. D. ayens; Th. agaynst. 260, 262. Th. tel, bel;resttelle, belle. S. rong; F. T. D. ronge; Th. range. 267, 269. S. lond, fond;restlonde, fonde. 271. Th. D. falshode; F. S. falshed; T. falsehede. 276. Th. D. be;restben.

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