wight that lones you so Who as you sayde did guide your heart where so euer you did go Haue you so soone forgotten hir that was your only ioy Be all your former pleasures now conuerted to annoy Looke better once againe beholde your humble wight Do not estraunge your selfe from me worke not so great dispight Forgiue me now my former faults which once I did commit Your former greefes which I did cause out of your heart let slip I am the wight that tyde your tongue now let me loose the same And for the first inuented wrong no more repute the blame Shee seeing then this Gentleman woulde nothing say but mumme Shee curst within hir heart the houre wherin she made him dumme He did declare by outward signes that he coulde nothing speake The trickling teares then sodenly out from hir eyes do breake Shee then with armes embracing him his lippes did kisse full oft And in hir heart for present aide desâ—res the Gods aloft But he which once with sugred words did seeke hir for to please He now inuents all kinde of wayes hir person to displease Hir cares now vnto him be ioy hir greefes do glad his heart Hir sobs and signes do cheere his minde all câ—res he sets apart All hir wordes do not auaile hir plaints do profite nought Now is shee quite discouraged of that thing which she sought He waked once againe by hir which once had slaine his minde Thâ— thing wâ—ich seemed long asleepe he did assay to finde Shee more for feare of losse of life or price of the rewarde Entending by all kind of wayes hir life for to sauegarde Than for the true and earnest loue which she to him did heare Did suffer him to haue of hir that louers do desire Thus for the space of fiftene dayes they liued in great ioy But yet hir friend would nothing speake which did hir much anoy Shee humbly prayed him to shewe some fauor to hir state Protesting still while life doth last for to become his mate Or that shee might goe free â—rom either losse at hand And she would stand as truest friend that was in all that land This gay and lowly talke she had to moue the Knight But not as ye mo fauour shee could finde before his siâ—ht At length the king when that he sawe this patient would not speake He did commit her to the Iayle in prison fast to keepe That either shee should pay the summe or else hir lyfe shoulde lose When this shee heard to sobs and teares hir selfe shee doth dispose How bitter seemed this same drinke let al men beare away Who prest with paine on euery side began thus for to say Ah captiue wight that wenâ—st about an other to deceaue Hast sharpened now the vital sworde thy life for to bereaue Did it not well inough suffise for to deceiue my foe But all entangled in his snares must breede my careful wo. My fame he doth so much dispoile that euery one doth mocke My state to all so I shall be a common laughing stocke What hap had I that I was not deuoured of some beaste Which in the woodes and hils I past do take their common rest Oh what mischance had I that I brake not my necke In tumbling downe the steepie hils and so my selfe to wrecke Than heere to stande a gazing stocke to them that this way passe And on a stage to all mens eyes a common loking glasse But this O god is due rewarde for mine vngodly life My hart so fierce in crueltie delighting still in strife The Knight contented with hir plaints esteeming not hir greefe Yet at the length constrained was to get hir some releefe Hir teares did so bedew hir face that he some pitie tooke The Christall drops râ—n downe hir cheekes as from a water brooâ—e He more did waile and câ—e hir case than she hir louers did Which argued much a gentle heart within his brest was hid He theâ— repayred to the King deliting slanders by Who â—hen to heare him speake on throgs they doâ— approche him nie He vtters then before the King the whole discourse of loue Which he did beare to Zilia as is rehearst aboue And how also shee was the cause that he his speache diâ— lose But now reuiâ—de againe by hir whose heart with greefe it flowes Wherefore yet now O king quoth he this one thing let me craue That though she haue deserued death hir pardon let hir haue The king theÌ„ speakes your whole request you certes shall obtaine Although this widow do deserue to suffer greeuous paine Your most faithfull and gentle heart deserueth no lesse prayse Than hir ill deedes do merite paine whose shame will last alwayes Shee then likewise contented was aâ—d he to wife hir tooke He loued hir shee him likewyse till death them twaine forsooke FINIS â—rinted at London by Henr Binneman dwelling in Knightrider Streatt at the Signe of the Mermaid
seeke loue to preuent Hath any light behauiour of you in me bene seene That to consent vnto your heast at all you once might deeme I think not so why should you then presume or be so bolde With foolishe talke and fonde desire suche things for to vnfolde But trust to this the onely loue which I to you doe beare Doth make me nowe keepe those things close which I would not forbeare Unto no wight except to you therfore no more of this But leaue your foolishe enterprise for naught and fonde it is Let it suffice in time to come for you therefore I say To thinke and stedfastly beleeue that I am chast alway And bid the Lord of Italie leaue of and fonde desire And bid him likewise not at all my chastitie require For this I chuse vnto my self that I will rather dye Than to fulfill his lusting will my selfe I would applye And that the same he wel may knowe let him be sure of this That of his priuate talkt he had with me be now shall misse Nowe therefore get you home and talke no more of him Whose amorous toyes and fayned woes I let not by a pin The woman when she heard her wordes beeing pinched to the quicke Whose basty words and cruell lookes her hart full sort dâ—d pricke She thus did speake with quiet wordâ—s the Gods with hasty speede Sende present helpe vnto you both who haue thereof great neede Whose sicknesse and diseases bothe are â—ardly healde to be Unlesse the Gods from out the skyâ—s doe sende some remâ—dy And saying thus shee parts and streight shee commeth home And findes her Lord vppon his bed with heauy cheere to grone Who seemed rather to be dead than for to be on liue For that his cares and nipping greefes away he could not driue But loking on his neighbour then who was returnde againe When that he saw her heauy cheere he cryed out amayne And would not list vnto her wordes but wrapt in carefull woe Lamented sore his heauy case whose wordes they sounded so O thou vnlucky man whom fortune fauours nought The loue of her who loues thee not thou hast ful derely bought Thou payest well for pleasures past great vsury and gaine For now in stead of wonted ioyes thou suffrest double paine Thy liberty thou haddest once but nowe in bondage kepte And for thy pleasures and delites great cares and greefes be left Thrice happy hadst thou bene if hir thou hadst not seene And if hir name thou neuer heardst thou mightst haue blessed bene But sith the cruel destinyes doe weaue for thee such woe Thou needs must languishe in distresse it is decreed so Then speaks he to the messenger who did with teares bewaile His woful state but yet his griefe hir teares could naught auaile Dooth Zilia take in gratefull wise the letter that I sent And did shee take them thankfully when them you did present I knowe not so wherefore great wrong to you I nowe haue done For now your wonted company I knowe that she will shun Ah fickle loue what foole is he that doth him self commit Unto thy rage and fury fell that lasteth such a fit The glistring shew of Sunny beames at first did bring my ioy But now the darke and foggy mist doth worke me great anoy I sayled first with prosperous winde but stormes did come at last Who in the surge of foming seas my corps doe ouercast Wherefore an ende of my mishaps I think I none shall haue Nor fauour yet of Mistresse mine the which my life would saue In cruel wenche what meanest thou my soule thus to torment Who would my corps to doe thee good for sacrifice present How doest thou measure the good will of him that loues thee best Who for thy sake in night or day for greefe can take no râ—st Oh toat thy beauty once in thee a fault so foule should see As to torment those louing wights whiche prayse and honour thee Oh cruell and vnkindly dede those seruants to expell And set so little by the wight that loues to serue thee wel O Basiliske so coloured and pleasaunt to mans eye And yet within the bitter gall in secreate wise doth lye Whose poyson is dispersed now throughout my woful brest That all my senses for to doe their offices detest But yet and if I had some drug to set my harte at ease These greefes these sighs and sobbings oft I should ful soone appease Then for the dame that breeds my woe I would not sute nor sue But yet I feele and also proue this sentence to bee true No phisick herbes that growes in field the greefe of loue can cure Nor yet no drug that man inuents that paine can well assure Alas the searecloth will not serue to tent my wofull wound To launche the same I thinck in vaine my greefe should then abound But to be short no dressing can so fit for me be founde Except the hand of her alone that gaue to me my wound But woulde to God she sawe the depth and bottome of my harte And vewde the closet of my minde and how I suffer smarte That she might iudge my constant faith and knowe the wrong I heare Her rigorous deeds and frowarde wil doe put me in great feare But on vnhappy man I feele that I shall nothing gaine For all her pleasures and delights doe rest vpon my paine Her ease vpon my woe her ioy vppon my greefe My sobbing teares my groning sighes doe bring to hir releefe And saying thus he sore did weepe and sighed oft betweene The Christall drops ran downe his cheeks as he a childe had bene The woman standing by him there and seeing all his paine Shee vewing well his wofull plight no longer would remaine Shee pityed so his case and did lament his woe That she from teares could not abstain to see him vexed so But then shee tolde the whole successe of Philiberts loue Unto a Gentleman who sayde that he would try and proue How he might get him helth whose freende and mate he was Who carefull was and lothe that he out of the worlde should passe He goeth for Phisicions in cunning that excel Who with their drugs sweet preserues that they might make him wel And for to knowe the cause of greefe that so doth him molest And eke of them to knowe what kinde of medicines be best At last he brings Phisitions his woful plight to see But none alas is there can tell to cure his malady The gentleman dooth weepe and wayle hys wofull friende to see At last of them he doth enquire if any helpe there bee To whom they answere make with heauy bending cheere That nought but death in him at all to their sight did appeare For liuely bloud was gone his pulses did not beat His limbs waxt starke for wont of bloude and lacke of liuely heat His senses do denie their offices to doo His breath doth faâ—â—e and men do looke but death for to ensue Thus they
you beg or craue And here I binde me to your minde your man to bee At all assaies â–ª without delay to do that pleaseth yee Thus sayd she takes hir leaue and to hir house doth go But he in ioy and blisse abounds before opprest with woe So now the pleasant dew of heauen begins to fall And eche man loe his rest to take perswadeth therwithal The siluer sky of hue the darksome shades of night Doth couer clean the Sun and day descended out of sight And glistring starrâ—s do decke the pole of heauen so hiâ— And nature gins his rest to crane with heauy pensiue eye Thus Phiiiberto then â—is rest to take doth go And wisheth that faire â—ilia were there so none might knowe He rolles he turnes and tosseth with dreaming often to One while he thinketh on his loue an other while to do Some pretty feat so that he his desire might haue Another while he counteth on his honour for to sane Thus on this wise be spends and driues the night away Untill such time as Phoebus did his banner forth display At length Aurora doeth the bed of Titan flie And gius to shewe hir christall face about the siluer skie And Phoebus he him selfe his golden head doth shewe Lifting him selfe from out the waues our Orison to blowe And with his fiâ—ry chaire is flowne into the sky With sunny beames that none delights within his bed to lie He gladsome of the light from out his weary bed doth rise And decks his selfe with trim aray after his wonted guise And walking vp and downe within his chamber he Beginneth in his minde to rolle of hir the great beauty And doth hir state compare to Venus comely gleâ— And yet within him selfe he sayes much fairer lot is shee Than comely Didoes grace or Thisbies beautie bright Or Helens eke that Grecian dame so faire and princely wight Thus passed he the time which seemed long to him He euery houre did thinke a yere til he with hir had bin This is the force of loue whose sting once taking place Cannot againe recouered be in any kind of case Unlesse the helpe do come from them that cause the fame Whose eye lids shut with fansies flames they do regard no shame What paines would they indure for their true louers sake Who would their liues in hazarde put causing their foes to quake Achilles champion stout what time in Troy he saw Polixena he did desire to be the sonne in law To Priamus that king in Troy of great renowne Sir Paris eke the worthyest knight that was in Ilyon towne His brother Hector saw to Greece his passage toke His Aunt the faire Exione within their courts to loke But being taken with the fiery cleauing dart Of Helena the queene whose sight did pierce him to the harte That maugre all their heads to ship the Dame he bare And boysing vp his sayles to Troy he gan so fare So if that Cupid durst these champions stout assaile What booted them for to resist when nought they could preuaile To striue against the streame is labour lost in vaine The more he striues the more increasth his dolour and his paine The noble Pyramus him selfe for Thisby slue Bycause he thought that he was cause of breaking faith so true Thus if these did as here ful oft we haue heard say For to preuent this loue we ought not once to giue assay This knight did tast the same as wel his pangs did shewe The fiery dart of Cupids bowâ— his senses perced so But now the long deâ—ired houre is come that he must goe Sâ—ee looketh and abides for him within the rome belowe Now comming to the wished place of his beloued dame He thought not on his for ner greefes which he abode with paine Hir vnkinde wordes were quite forgot his minde was bent to ioy The torments whicâ— he felt before his hart did not anoy Tâ—us entring in the place which shee appointed had She there in place in comely wise with vestures faire was clad When she did him espie accompanied with hir mayde With simple cheere and welcome colde on this wise to him sayde With fayned ioy which moued not his hart I see quoth she Your late disease was not so ill as it was tolde to mee For now the good eâ—tate and helth that you possesse Doth make me iudge the contrary and so I truely gesse The which henceforth shall make me iudge the greefe that men endure Is onely through tâ—eir fayned woes the thing for to allure The which their heart desires they hauing then their wil No longer doe regarde the same but wil detest it stil. To loking glasses therefore I do makâ— them equal here Which al be it they make â—xcesse of present things to appere Yet when the thing once seene doth passe and vanishe quite away The fourmes out of our memory do likewise go astray Iâ— madame answered hee how easy a thing it is The greeslesse wight to counterfaite both ioyes and fained blisse Which only the conceit may not that moues hâ—s minde detest But the obiect must bide in him as painted in his brest Whiche to a glasse may â—ikened be I meane not such a one As fayned shapes presented there so quickly shoulâ— be gone Without the leauing of the trace of some iâ—prinâ—ed marke Within the minde of him which shape stands stedfast in his harte Then in the mirrour which through cause of hidden might Is ardent haue I seene a shape which is my whole delight It wrought within my hart with feruent burning heate Which boyling in my tender brest my corps it made to sweate Oh madame thinke not then I fâ—ined my disease Still thinking and deuising both how I your grace might please I therefore count my selâ—e as whole obaying still your minde To run or ride where so you please you shall me ready finde I nought esteeme the same quoth she you nought at all shal neede To take such trauaile for my sake leaue off therefore with speede Your folish wordes and talke no more of such fond things to me Your manners with your comely state they do not well agree O dame haue you determined for to torment me so To bring againe the pangs of death to double eke my woe Who willâ—ng is to sacrifice his body for your sake If once into my seruice you would him vouchsafe to take It greeueth mee to see your heauenly beauty neat To make a profe of crueltie so horrible and great What do you thinke and still conceiue that I my greefe do fayne And do you stil coniecture that I vse dissembled paine Alacke the teares which I haue sâ—ed the losse of lust to eate The weary night the sleepelesse lims not able skant to speake May well assure my loyal hart is better worthy prayse Than you esteeme seeke not O Dame therfore to short my dayes He then beholding hir to fixe hir eyes vpon the ground He thought that he some fauour had before his Lady
straight did cause a trumpet to be blowne Which through al his dominions in short time it was sowne Proclaiming who could wel restore that persons speech againe Ten thousand frankes in ready gold he should haue for his painâ— There one migâ—t see the thrâ—ging heapes of these Chirurgian sort Who for to helpe this noble Lord did thither then resorte But thâ—s edict the King set forth that he which durst be bold To cure the same and could not ende should forfait al that gold Or if so be he could not pay the summe his life should leese When this they heard they al in troupes did flee away as Geese This babbling fame was spred so much this brute so farre was blowne That at the length the same it was well knowne in Thurin towne And passed stil from mouth to mouth til at the length it came Unto the widowes eare and shee did like well of the same For that she sawe his constant trouth which he to hir did plight His perfect faith and stedfast loue hir hart did much delight Shee likewise hearing all the summe which they should duely take By any meanes or practise straunge this Knight to speake could make She did deuise immediatly that shee this gold might gain To wend to France and â—o restore to him his speach againe Shee thought those passions stil that he did suffer as before She thought his loue redoubled was still dayly more and more She thought not on the letter whichâ— for his farewel he sent And though shee did shee still did thinke that no such thing he ment Wherefore she would incontinent to Paris take hir way And til shee came againe all things at home shee set in stay Not caring for to see hir loue but to get praise and thankes And causing him to speake she should obtaine ten thousande frankes Which she to haue already thought therof shee made accompt Thus thinking still and sure thereof on horsebacke shee doth mount Thus may you playnely see that shee whom honest loue And â—eruice long could not induce did streightway minde to proue Greâ—t riches to obtaine whom piâ—y could not moue But vnder coloure to attaine this gold she fained loue Oh fond desire of worldly mucke how long thus wilt thou blinde The reason both and sprites of men and bring them so behinde Oh ragâ—ng gulfe how many wights thy yauning throte hath drunke Who with thy lures and fond procures in endlesse hell haue sunke Whose prayse had passed far the cloudes in brightnesse like the Sunne If they had sought in warely wise thy suâ—tle wayes to shunne Alas thy frutes are nothing worth the wâ—ich thou bringest forth The pleasures which thou sowest abrode I say be nothing worth Oh that thy vice should so take place that men thou shouldest blinde No ioyes at all they do conduce the which inioy the same But at the length through greedy minde it doth increase their shame For still the dropsie lyeth hid wythin their heart and minde The more they drinke the more they still the thirst therof do finde This vice sometime did cause the death of Romaine Croessus King Whose greedie minde I say againe him to his death did bring Who through gods threatning punishmeÌ„t fell in the Persians hands And like a wretche be ended there his life in cruell bandes What should I speake of many moe the time it would prolong It doth not wel become my pen still for to sing one song But now to widowe Zilia againe let vs returne Who blinded with dame Auarice hir heart like sire did burne Thus passing through the Mountains hie in France she did arriue The pleasant soyle that there she saw hir sprites did much reuiue When she came there she did enquire who had the charge of those That tooke on them to heale the Lorde to them she streight way goes Who when they came they askt of hir if she durst be so bolde To take on hir the cure of him which she did say she would You knowe sayd they the forfeytures which they shall forfeyt still That is to say the summe of gold or else their life to spill All this I knowe quoth shee wherfore shee them requires That she might see the patient that so hir heart desires For God a certaine secret straunge reuealed hath to mee That I do trust ere sixe dayes passe so speake you shall him see This furthermore they also adde if fiftene dayes are past And he not speake wythin that time the wager it was lost Shee did submit hir selfe to all still thinking that she had Like power ouer the Lord of Virle which still did make hir glad The deputies with all speede wend to aduertise the Knight And of his new Phisition to him they do recite How that there as a woman come that render will his speeche And in sixe dayes in paine of life wyl helpe their Noble leeche These sodaine wordes did mase him much but yet he neuer thought That Zilia to procure his health by any wayes had sought He thought that Zilia neuer would to him beare such good will As to procure his health againe his life but rather spill Thus musing still he standes not knowing what to say But yet at length this widowe faire to him shee tooke hir way Shee came in place where as he was hir patient for to see But when he sawe hir entred in implete with wrath was hee He deemed straight that money was the cause of hir repayre Hir smiling grace he set nought by nor yet hir lookes so faire He calling to his minde hir rage and all the cruell wo Which she did cause him to sustaine his body bringing lowe With pining sighes and greefes esteeming not his care But to torment his silly corpse with rigor did not spare The like he minded then to shewe to hir agaâ—ne And to molest hir froward cor se with such like greefe and paine Not shewing fauour more to hir than shee to him But still hir foe for to endure as shee his foe had bin His former loue was turnd to rage hys friendship into ire His heart to choller so was changde that it did burne like fire But in his chamber seeing hir he fained not to knowe Hir person nor hir great estate he thought best so to do This maâ—e the widowe sore agast she knew not what to say Hir senses left their wonted vse hir sprites were gone away But calling to hir memory in what straunge place she stoode To make of neede a vertue then shee thought it very good From whence she could not well depart without the losse of life Or cast hir honor in the dust vnlesse she were his wife Wherefore shee minded for to trie dame Fortunes turning wheele And thus shee speake vnto the Knight hir heart as hard as steele What is the cause O knight you doe not hir esteeme Who thought the time to be full long ere that she had you seene And doe you nowe set nothing by the