herte so free This poore token say to hym I sende Pleaseth his goodnesse to take it in gree It is hys owne of ryght it is hys see whyche he asked whan he sayd longe before Gyue me thy herte and I desyre no more A due my lorde my loue so fayre of face A due my turtel doue so freshe of hue A due my myrthe a due al my solace A due alas my sauyour lorde Iesu A due the gentyllest that euer I knewe A due my most excellent paramour Fayrer than rose sweter than Lylly flour A due my hope of all plesure eternall My lyfe my welth and my prosperite Myne herte of golde my peerle orientall Myne adamant of parfyte charite My chefe refuge and my felycite My comforte and all my recreatioun Farwell my perpetuall saluatioun Farewell myne Emperour celestyall Most beautyful prince of al mankynde A due my lorde of herte most lyberall Farwell my swetest bothe soule and mynde So louyng a spouse shall I neuer fynde A due my souerayne and very gentylman Farewell dere herte as hertely as I can Thy wordes eloquent flowing in swetnesse Shall no more alas my mynde reconforte wherfore my lyfe must ende in bytternesse For in this worlde shall I neuer resorte To the whiche was myne heuenly disporte I se alas it woll none other be Nowe farwell the grounde of all dignite A due the fayrest that euer was bore Alas I may not se your blessed face Nowe welaway that I shal se no more Thy blessed vysage so replete wyth grace wherin is printed my parfyte solace A due myne hertes roote and al for euer Nowe farewel I must from the disceuer My soule for anguysh is nowe full thursty I faynt ryght sore for heuynesse My lorde my spouse Cur me dereliquisti Syth I for the suffre al thys distresse what causeth the to seme thus mercylesse Sith it the pleaseth of me to make an ende In manus tuas my spirite I cōmende ¶ Finis The Remedy of Loue. SEyng the manyfolde inconuenience Fallynge by vnbridled prosperite which is not tempred with moral prudence Nothyng more welthy thā youthes frelte Moued I am both of ryght and equyte To youthes wele somwhat to write wherby he may hym selfe safecondyte Fyrst I note as thyng moost noyous Vnto youth a greuous malady Amonge vs called loue encombrous Veryng yonge people straungely Ofte by force causeth hem to dye Age is eke turmented by loue Byneth the gyrdle and not aboue wherfore thys werke which is ryght laborous For age me nede not in hande to take To youth me oweth to be obsequious Nowe I begyn thus to worke for hys sake whych may the feruence of loue a slake To the louer as a mitigatyue To hym that is none a preseruatyue That myghty lorde whych me gouerneth Youth I meane measure yf I pace In euery mater whiche hym concerneth Fyrst as is behoueful I woll aske grace And forth wythal in thys same place Er I begyn I wol knele and saye These fewe wordes and hym of helpe pray Flourynge youth whych hast auauntage In strength of body in lust and beaute Also a precellyng haste aboue age In many a singuler commodite Howe be it one thyng he hath beyonde the To thy moost profyte and greatest auayle which shlud y e cōduit I meane sad coūsayle And yet good lorde of a presumption I nyl depraue thy myght and deite I lyue but vnder thy protection I am thy subiecte I weare thy lyuerie For thou arte grounde of my prosperite And freshest floure of al my garlonde My singuler ayde as I wel vnderstonde But as he that oweth hys lorde beste seruice And entyre fayth his honour to supporte Ryght so I speke and in none other wyse I knowlege my selfe one of the leste sorte Of thy seruauntes to our elders comforte Drawe sadde counsayle to they yf thou lyst The and thy power who may than resyst Fye on age vnder wordes fewe And his erconyous opinyon what spekest of him whyche sayth most vntrew Al youth to be of yl disposition Dampneth vs al wythout exception And for a colerable auauntage He sayth in him resteth counsayle sage Wel may sadde counsayle in hym rest But yet hys dedes bene ferre therfro He may say wyth our paryshe preest Do as I say and not as I do For I my selfe knowe one or two wel stryken in age for neyghbourhedde wol to theyr neyghbours wyues bedde He wyl in presence of the yonge man Her clyppe and kysse yee and downe laye To bleare hys eye thus he sayth than O suffre yet olde Morel to playe Nowe haue I done that I can or may Thus he saeth her husbonde to queme That he nor no man shulde not misdeme In worde nor dede nedeth hym not be coye It is impossible that he do amysse If the yonge mā speke anone he sayeth boye To rebuke age besemeth the not ywys Thus hys olde face aye hys warant is Al is in hym sleyght and subtylte And ferre from reason I tel the And shortly age is not aboue me Age is impotent and of no resistence Age vnweldy may not fyght nor flye what were age wythout my defence Sad counsayle sayst gyueth hym assistence Reason is freshest where that I ame wherfore in thy sayeng thou art to blame Syth reason to me is rather acompanyed Than vnto age whyche is the opinyon Of euery wyse man not to be denyed And syth sad counsayle procedeth of reason Sad coūsaile in me hath his chefe mancion Thys is no naye but what is the ende Of thys thy suasion what doest entende Age to compare vnto thyne excellence I nyl presume hym so to dignifye Ye be not egal howe be it experience Him auauntageth for she most certaynly Him teacheth what thyng to him is cōtrary And oft to fore se it and warely eschewe which thou neuer assaydest yet nor knewe Experience maketh a man moost certayne Of any thyng erthly and of necessite Sad counsayle requyreth certaynte playne So ferre to moue thus wherto nede we But to my purpose as thou cōmaundest me Shortly myne entente is thus none other Vnder thy licence to counsayle my brother Howe shuldest gyue any counsayle so yonge Lacking experience vnto thyne owne speche I reporte me I wote wel as for thy tonge wyl serue the right wel but than for to teche I dout me lest that thy wytte wol not reche Youth experience thou sayest be not cōuert Howe shuldest than teach◠wel vnexpert Scripture wytnesseth that god wyl oft shyt Fro the hye witted man shew it to y e childe To hym I meane that of hys owne wyt Presumeth not but is debonayre mylde By counsayle I entende vertue for to bylde which of myne elders part haue I borowed part of experience which I haue sorowed wel than yf it be as thou lettest fare Shewe forth thy doctrine be not agast I wol the supporte loke thou not spare Maugre age though he frete or gnast To aske age counsayle herin were
may attayne To se the beaute of your eyen twayne wherfore I say for trystesse doth me grame Tant me fait male departyr de ma dame why nere my wyshyng brouÈt to such esploit That I myght say for ioye of your presence Ore a mon cuer ce quil veuilloit Ore a mon cuer the hyghest excellence That euer had wight syth myne aduerteÌ„ce Is in you reweth on my paynes smerte I am so sore wounded to the herte To lyue wel mery two louers were yfere So may I saye wythouten any blame Yf any man to wylde were I coude hym teche for to be tame Lette hym go loue and se where it be game For I am brydled vnto sobernesse For her that is of women chefe princesse But euer wheÌ„ thouÈt my herte shuld enbrace Then vnto me is best remedy when I loke on your goodly freshe face So mery a myrrour coude I neuer espye And yf I coude I wolde it magnifye For neuer none was so fayre yfounde To reken hem all and also Rosamounde And fynally wyth mouthe and wyl present Of double eye wythout repentaunce Myne herte I yeue you lady in thys entent That ye shall holy therof haue gouernauÌ„ce Takynge my leaue wyth hertes obeysaunce Salue regina syngynge last of al To be our helpe when we to the cal All our loue is but ydelnesse Saue your loue alone who might therto attayne who so wol haue a name of gentylnesse I counsayle hym in loue that he not fayne Thou swete lady refute in euery payne whose mercy moste to me auayleth To gye by grace when that fortune fayleth Nought may be tolde wythouten any fable Your hygh renome your womanly beaute Your gouernaunce to al worshyp able Putteth euery herte in ease in hys degree O violet o floure desyree Syth I am for you so amerous Estreynes moy de cuer ioyous with ferueÌ„t herte my brest hath brost on fyre Lardant espoir que moÌ„ cuer poynt est mort Dauoir lamour de celle que ie desyre I meane you swete moste plesaunt of porte Et ie say bien que ceo nest pas mon tort That for you synge so as I maye for mone For your departynge alone I lyue alone Though I myght I woll none other chese In your seruyce I wolde be founden sadde Therfore I loue no labour that ye lese when in longyng sorest ye be stadde Loke vp ye louers and be ryght gladde Ayenst saynt Valentynes daye For I haue chese that neuer forsake I may ¶ Explicit ¶ Iohan Gower vnto the worthy and noble Kynge Henry the fourth O Noble worthy kyng Henry the ferthe In whome the glad fortune is befall The people to gouerne here vpon erthe God hath the chosen in comforte of vs all the worship of this laÌ„de which was doun fal Now stant vpryÈt thrugh grace of thy goodnesse which euery man is holde for to blesse The hygh god of his iustice alone The ryght whych longeth to thy regaly Declared hath to stande in thy persone And more then god may no man iustifye Thy tytel is knowe vpon thyne auncestrye The landes folke hath eke thy right affirmed So stante thy reygne of god maÌ„ coÌ„fyrmed There is no man may saye in otherwyse That god hymselfe ne hath y e ryght declared wherof the lande is bounde to thy seruyce whych for defaute of helpe hath longe cared But nowe there is no mannes herte spared To loue and serue and worthe thy plesaunce And all thys is through goddes purueyauÌ„ce In all thynge whych is of god begonne There foloweth grace yf it be wel gouerned Thus tellen they whych olde bokes conne wherof my lord I wote well thou art lerned Aske of thy god so shalt thou not be warned Of no request whych is reasonable For god vnto the good is fauourable Kyng Salomon whiche had at hys askynge Of god what thyng him was leuest craue He chase wysedom vnto gouernynge Of goddes folke the whiche he wolde saue And as he chase it fyll him for to haue For through his wyt while y t his reigne last He gate him peace and rest in to his last But Alexander as telleth hys storie Vnto the god besought in other wey Of all the worlde to wynne the vyctorie So that vnder hys swerde it myght obey In warre he had al that he wolde prey The mighty god behight him that behest The worlde wanne and had it of conquest But though it fyll at thylke tyme so That Alexander his askyng hath atcheued This synfull worlde was all paynem tho was none which hath the highe god beleued No woÌ„der was though thilk world was greued Though a tyraÌ„t his purpose miÈt wyn All was vengeaunce and in fortune of syn But nowe the faith of Christ is come a place Among the princes in this erthe here It sytte hem well to do pyte and grace But yet it must be tempred in manere For they fynden cause in the matere Vpon the poynt what afterwarde betyde The lawe of right shall nat be layde a syde So may a kynge of warre the voyage Ordayne and take as he therto is holde To clayme aske hys ryghtfull heritage In all places where it is wyth holde But otherwyse yf god hym selfe wolde Affyrme loue and peace betwene the kynges Peace is the best aboue al erthly thynges Good is to eschewe warre and nathelees A kynge may make warre vpon hys ryght For of batayle the fynall ende is pees Thus stant the lawe that a worthy knyght Vpon hys trouth may go to the fyght But yf so were that he myght chese Better is the peace of whych may no maÌ„ lese To stere peace ought euerych on lyue Fyrst for to set hys liege lorde in rest And eke these other men that they ne stryue For so thys lande maye stande at best what kynge that wolde be the worthyest The more he myght our deedly warre cease The more he shuld his worthynesse encrease Peace is the chefe of al the worldes welth And to the heuen it ledeth eke the waye Peace is of soule and lyfe the mannes helth Of pestilence and doth the warre awaye My liege lorde take hede of that I saye Yf warre may be lefte take peace on hande whych may not be wythout goddes sande wyth peace stante euery creature in rest wythout peace there may no lyfe be gladde Aboue all other good peace is the best Peace hath hym selfe wheÌ„ werre is al bestad The peace is safe the warre is euer adrad Peace is of al charite the kay whych hath the lyfe and soule for to way My liege lorde yf that thy lyst to seche The soth ensaÌ„ples what y e war hath wrouÈt Thou shalt wel here of wyse meÌ„nes speche That deedly warre tourneth into nought For yf these olde bokes be wel ysought There myght y u se what thing y e war hath do Both of conquest and conquerour also For vayne honoure or for the worldes good They that whylom the stroÌ„ge
in erth here To hym reserueth he many a poynt But to Chryst that hath no pere Reserueth he neyther opyn ne ioynt ¶ So semeth he aboue all And Chryst abouen hym nothyng whan he sytteth in his stall Dampneth and saueth as hym thynke Suche pryde tofore god doth stynke An Angell bad Iohn to hym nat knele But only to god do his bowynge Such wyllers of worship must nede euyll fele ¶ They ne clepen Chryst but sâ—tuÌ„s deus And clepen her heed Sanctissimus They that suche a sect sewys I trowe they taken hem amysse In erth here they haue her blysse Her hye master is Belyal Chrystes people from hem wysse For all suche false wyll foule tall ¶ They mowe both bynde and lose And all is for her holy lyfe To saue or dampne they mowe those Betwene hem now is great stryfe Many a man is kylled with a knyfe To wete which of hem haue lordshyp shall For suche Chryst suffred woundes fyue For all suche falshed wyll foule fall ¶ Chryst sayd Qui gladio percutit with swerde shall dye He bad his preestes peace and gryth And bade hem not drede for to dye And bad them be both symple and slye And carke not for no cattall And trusteth on god that sytteth on hye For all false shull foule fall ¶ These wollen make men to swere Ayenst Chrystes coÌ„maundement And Chrystes membres all to tere On roode as he wer newe yrent Suche lawes they make by coÌ„men assent Echeon it choweth as a ball Thus the poore be fully shent But euer falshed foule it befall ¶ They vsen no symonye But sellen churches and prioryes Ne they vsen no enuye But cursen all hem contraryes And hyreth men by dayes and yeres with strength to holde hem in her stall And culleth all her aduersaryes Therfore falshed foule thou fall ¶ with purse they purchase personage with purse they paynen hem to plede And men of warre they woll wage To brynge her enemyes to the dede And lordes lyues they woll lede And moche take and gyue but small But he it so get from it shall shede And make suche false ryght foule fal ¶ They halowe nothyng but for hyre Churche font ne vestement And make orders in euery shyre But preestes paye for the parchement Of ryatours they taken rent Therwith they smere the shyppes skall For many churches ben ofte suspent All suche falshed yet foule it fall Some lyueth nat in lecherye But haunten wenches widdowes wyues And punysheth the poore for putrye Them selfe it vseth all theyr lyues And but a man to them shryues To heuen come neuer he shall He shal be cursed as be caytyues To hell they sayne that he shall fall ¶ There was more mercy in Maximyen And in Nero that neuer was good Than is nowe in some of them whan he hath on his furred hoode They folowe Christ that shedde his blode To heuen as buckette in to the wall Suche wreches ben worse than wode And all suche faytours foule hem fall ¶ They gyue her almesse to the ryche To maynteynours and to men of lawe For to lordes they woll be lyche An harlottes sonne nat worthe an hawe Sothfastnesse suche han slawe They kembe her crokettes with christall And drede of god they haue downe drawe All suche faytours foule hem fall ¶ They maken parsons for the penny And canons of her cardynals Vnnethes amongest hem all any That he ne hath glosed the gospell fals For Christ made neuer no cathedrals Ne wyth hym was no cardynall wyth a Redde hatte as vsyn mynstrals But falshed foule mote it befall ¶ Theyr tythyng and her offryng both They clemeth it by possessyon Therof nyll they none forgo But robben men as raunsome The tythyng of Turpe lucrum with these maisters is meynall Tythyng of bribry and larson wyll make falshed full foule to fall ¶ They taken to ferme her sompnours To harme the people what they may To pardoners and false faytours Sell her seales I dare well say And all to holden great array To multiply hem more metall They drede full lytell domes day whan all suche shall foule fall ¶ Suche harlottes shull men dysclaunder For they shullen make her gree And ben as proude as Alexaunder And sayne to the poore wo be ye By yere eche preeste shall paye hys fee To encrease hys lemmans call Suche heerdes shull well yuell the And all suche false shull foule fall ¶ And yf a man be falsely famed And wolde make purgacioun Than woll the offycers be agramed And assigne hym fro towne to towne So nede he must paye raunsome Though he be clene as is christall And than haue an absolutioun But all suche false shull foule fall ¶ Though he be gyltie of the dede And that he maye money pay All the whyle his purse woll blede He maye vse it fro day to day These byshoppes offycers gone full gay And thys game they vsen ouer all The poore to pyll is all theyr pray All suche false shull foule fall ¶ Alas god ordayned neuer suche lawe Ne no suche crafte of couetyse He forbade it by hys sawe Suche gouernours mowen of god agryse For all his rules is ryghtwyse These newe poyntes ben pure papall And goddes lawe they dispyce And all suche faytours shul foule fall ¶ They sayne that Peter had the key Of heuyn and hell to haue and holde I trowe Peter toke no money For no synnes that he solde Suche successours ben to bolde In wynnyng all theyr wytte they wrall Her conscience is waxen colde And all suche faytours foule hem fall ¶ Peter was neuer so great a fole To leaue hys key with suche a lorell Or to take suche cursed suche a tole He was aduysed nothyng well I trowe they haue the key of hell Theyr maister is of that place marshall For there they dressen hem to dwell And with false Lucifere there to fall ¶ They ben as proude as Lucifarre As angry and as enuyous From good faythe they ben full farre In couetyse they ben curyous To catche catell as couytous As houÌ„de that for hungre woll yall Vngoodly and vngratious And nedely suche falshed shal foule fall ¶ The pope and he were Peters heyre Me thynke he erreth in this case whan choyse of byshoppes is in dispeyre To chosen hem in dyuers place A lorde shall write to hym for grace For hys clerke anone pray he shall So shall he spede hys purchase And all suche false foule hem fall ¶ Though he can no more good A lordes prayer shal be spedde Though he be wylde of wyll or wood Nat vnderstandyng what men han redde A leude boster and that god forbede As good a byshoppe is my horse ball Suche a Pope is foule be stedde And at last woll foule fall ¶ He maketh byshoppes for erthly thanke And nothyng for Christes sake Suche that ben full fatte and ranke To soule heale none hede they take Al is well done what euer they make For they shal answere at one
sonne an hundred hewes Blewe yelowe and reed that fresh new is Yet hath the meruaylous cristall Suche strength that the place ouer all Both foule and tree and leues grene And all the yerde in it is sene And for to done you to vnderstonde To make ensample woll I fonde Ryght as a myrrour openly Sheweth all thynge that standeth therby As well the coloure as the fygure wythouten any couerture Ryght so the cristall stone shynynge wythouten any dysceyuynge The entrees of the yerde accuseth To hym that in the water museth For euer in whych halfe that ye be Ye maye well halfe the gardyne se And yf the turne he maye ryght wele Sene the remnaunt euery dele For there is none so lytell thynge So hydde ne closed wyth shyttynge That it ne is sene as though it were Paynted in the cristall there Thys is the myrrour perillus In whych the proude Narcisus Sey all hys fayre face bryght That made hym syth to lye vpryght For who so loketh in that myrrour There may nothynge be hys socour That he ne shall there se somthynge That shall hym lede into laughynge Full many a worthy man hath it yblent for folke of greatest wyt Ben soone caught here and wayted wythouten respyte ben they beyted Here cometh to folke of newe rage Here chaungeth many a wyght corage Here lyeth no rede ne wytte therto For Venus sonne dan Cupido Hath sowen there of loue the sede That helpe ne lyeth there none ne rede So cercleth it the welle aboute Hys gynnes hath he set withoute Right for to catche in hys panters These damosels and bachelers Loue wyll none other byrde catche Though he set eyther nette or latche And for the sede that here was sowen Thys welle is cleped as well is knowen The welle of Loue of very ryght Of whyche there hath full many a wyght Spoken in bokes dyuersely But they shull neuer so verily Discripcion of the welle here Ne eke the sothe of thys matere As ye shull whan I haue vndo The crafte that her belongeth to AL way me lyked for to dwell To sene the christall in the well That shewed me full openly A thousande thynges faste by But I may say in sory houre Stode I to loken or to powre For sythen I sore syghed That Myrrour hath me nowe entriked But had I fyrst knowen in my wyt The vertue and strengthes of it I nolde not haue mused there Me had bette ben els where For in the snare I fell anone That had bytreshed many one In thylke Myrrour sawe I tho Amonge a thousande thynges mo A Roser charged full of rosis That with an hedge aboute enclosis Tho had I suche luste and enuye That for Parys ne for Pauye Nolde I haue lefte to gone and se There greatest heape of roses be whan I was with thys rage hente That caught hath many a man and shente Towarde the Roser gan I go And whan I was not ferre therfro The sauour of the roses swote Me smote right to the herte rote As I had all enbaumed me And yf I ne had endouted me To haue ben hated or assayled My thankes woll I not haue fayled To pull a rose of all that route To bere in myne honde aboute And smellen to it where I went But euer I dredde me to repent And leste it greued or forthought The lorde that thylke gardyn wrought Of roses there were great wone So fayre ware neuer in Rone Of knoppes close some sawe I there And some well better woxen were And some there ben of other moyson That drowe nygh to her season And spedde hem faste for to sprede I loue well suche roses rede For brode roses and open also Ben passed in a day or two But knoppes wyll freshe be Two dayes at leest or els thre The knoppes greatly lyked me For fayrer may there no man se who so myght haue one of all It ought hym ben full lefe withall Myght I garlonde of hem geten For no rychesse I wolde it leten Amonges the knoppes I chefe one So fayre that of the remenaunt none Ne preyse I halfe so well as it Whan I auyse in my wyt For it so well was enlumyned wyth colour reed as wel fyned As nature couthe it make fayre And it hath leaues wel foure payre That kynde hath set through hys knowynge Aboute the redde roses springyng The stalke was as ryshe ryght And theron stode the knoppe vpright That it ye bowed vpon no syde The swote smel spronge so wyde That it dyed all the place aboute whan I had smelled the sauour swote No wyll had I fro thence yet go But somdele nere it went I tho To take it but myne honde for drede Ne durste I to the Rose bede For thystels sharpe of many maners Netles thornes and hoked briers For moche they distourbled me For sore I dradde to harmed be THe god of loue with bowe bent That all day set had hys talent To pursue and to spyen me was stondyng by a fygge tree And whan he sawe how that I Had chosen so ententifly The bothum more vnto my paye Than any other that I say He toke an arowe ful sharply whette And in hys bowe whan it was sette He streight vp to hys eere drough The stronge bowe that was so tough And shotte at me so wonder smerte That through myn eye vnto myn herte The takel smote and depe it wente And therwithal such colde me hente That vnder clothes warme and softe Sythen that day I haue chyuered ofte Whan I was hurte thus in stounde I fell downe platte vnto the grounde Myne hert fayled and faynted aye And longe tyme in swoune I laye But whan I came out of swounyng And had wytte and my felyng I was al mate and wende full wele Of bloode haue lorne a full great dele But certes the arowe that in me stoode Of me ne drewe no droppe of bloode For why I founde my woundes al drey Than toke I with myn hondes twey The arowe and full faste it ought plyght And in the pullyng sore I syght So at the laste the shafte of tree I drough out with the fethers thre But yet the hoked heed ywis The whiche Beaute called is Gan so depe in myne herte pace That I it myght not arace But in myn hert styll it stoode All bledde I not a droppe of bloode I was bothe anguyshous and trouble For the peryll that I sawe double I nyste what to say or do Ne get a leche my woundes to For neyther through grasse ne rote Ne had I helpe of hope ne bote But to the bothum euer mo Myn herte drewe for all my wo My thought was in none other thyng For had it ben in my kepyng It wolde haue brought my lyfe agayne For certes euenly I dare wel sayne The syght onely and the sauoure Alegged moche of my langoure Than gan I for to drawe me Towarde the Bothom fayre to se And loue had get hym in his throwe
route Her folowed in the garden all about This yerd was large rayled all the aleyes shaddowed wel w t blosomy bowes grene And benched newe and soÌ„ded al the wayes In which she walketh arm in arme betwene Tyll at the last Antigone the shene Gan on a Troyan songe to syngen clere That it an heuen was her voyce to heare She said O loue to whom I haue shall Ben humble subiect trewe in myne entent As I best can to you lorde yeue yche all For euermore my hertes lust to rent For neuer yet thy grace no wyght sent So blysfull cause as me my lyfe to lede In al ioye and suretie out of drede The blysful god hath me so wel beset In loue iwys that all that bereth lyfe Ymagynen ne coulde how to be bet For lorde withouten ielousye or stryfe I loue one which that moost is ententyfe To seruen wel vntweryly or vnfayned That euer was lest with harme distayned As he that is the well of worthynesse Of trouth ground myrrour of godlyheed Of wyt Apollo stone of sykernesse Of vertue roote of lust fynder and heed Through which is all sorowe fro me deed Ywys I loue hym best so doth he me Now good thrift haue he whersoeuer he be whom shulde I thaÌ„ken but you god of loue Of all this blysse in which to bath I gynne And thanked be ye lorde for that I loue This is the ryght lyfe that I am in To flemen al maner vyce and synne This doth me so to vertue for to entende That daye by day I in my wyll amende And who that sayth y e for to loue is vyce Or thraldome though he felt in it distresse He eyther is enuyous or ryght nyce Or is vnmyghty for his shreudnesse To louen for suche maner folke I gesse Diffamen loue as nothyng of him knowe They speken but they bent neuer his bowe what is the sonne worse of kynde ryght Though y t a man for feblenesse of his eyen May nat endure on it to se for bryght Or loue the worse that wretches on it cryen No wele is worth y t may no sorowe dryen And for thy who that hath a heed of verre Fro cast of stones ware hym in the werre But with al myne hert and al my myght As I haue sayde wol loue vnto my last My dere hert and all myne owne knyght In which myne hert growen is so fast And his in me that it shall euer last All dredde I fyrst loue hym to begyn Now wot I well there is no peryll in And of her songe right w t the worde she stent And therwithal nowe nece ê™ Creseyde who made this song now w t so good entent Antygone answerde anone and sayde Madame ywys the goodlyest mayde Of great estate in al the towne of Troye And led her lyfe in moost honour and ioye For soth so semeth it by her songe Quod tho Creseyde gan therwtih to sike And said Lorde is there such blysse amonge These louers as they can fayre endite Yea wysse quod freshe Antygone the whyte For al the folke that haue or bene on lyue Ne conne wel the blysse of loue discryue But wene ye that euery wretche wote The parfyte blysse of loue why nay ywys They wenen al be loue yf one be hote Do way do way they wote nothing of this Menne mote asken of sayntes yf it is Ought faire in heueÌ„ why for they can tell And aske fendes yf it be foule in hell Creseide vnto the purpose naught answerde But sayd ywys it wol be nyght as faste But euery word which that she of her herde She gan to printen in her herte faste And aye gan loue her lasse for to agaste Than it dyd erst and synken in her herte That she waxe somwhat able to conuerte The dayes honour and the heuens eye The night foe al thys clepe I the sunne Gan westren fast downwarde for to wrie As he that had hys dayes course yrunne And whyte thinges woxen dymme donne For lacke of lyght and sterres for to apere That she and al her folke in went yfere So whan it lyked her to gone to reste And voyded weren they that voyden oughte She sayd that to slepen well her leste Her women sone tyl her bed her broughte whaÌ„ al was hust thaÌ„ lay she styl thoughte Of al thys thynge the maner and the wyse Reherce it nedeth nat for ye bene wyse A nyghtyngale vpon a Cedre grene Vnder the chamber wal there as she lay Ful loude songe ayen the mone shene Parauenture in hys byrdes wyse a lay Of loue that made her herte freshe and gaye That herkened she so longe in good entente Tyl at the last the deed slepe her hente And as she slept anon ryght tho her mette Howe that an Egle fethered white as bone Vnder her brest hys longe clawes sette And out her hert he rent and that anone And dyd his hert in to her brest to gone of which she nought agrose ne nothiÌ„g smert And forthe he flyeth with hert lefte for herte Nowe let her slepe we our tales holde Of troylus that is to paleys rydden Fro the scarmyshe of whych I tolde And in hys chambre sate and hath abydden Tyl two or thre of his messangers yeden For Pandarus and soughten him ful fast Tyl they him found brought him at y e last Thys Pandarus came leapyng in at ones And sayd thus who hath bene wel ybete To daye wyth swerdes and slonge stones But Troylus that hath caught him an hete And gan to iape sayd Lorde ye sweete But ryse and let vs soupe and go to reste And he answerde him do we as the leste wyth al the hast goodly as they myght They spedde hem fro the souper to bedde And euery wyght out of the dore him dyght And whyder him lyst vpoÌ„ his way him sped But Troylus thought that his herte bledde For wo tyl that he herde some tydynge And sayd frende shall I now wepe or synge Quod Pandarus be styll and let me slepe And do on thyne hoode thy nedes spedde be And chese yf thou wolt syng daunce or lepe At short wordes thou shalte trowe me Sir my nece wol done wel by the And loue the beste by god by my trouthe But lacke of pursute make it in thy slouthe For thus forforth I haue thy werke begon Fro day to daye tyl this day by the morowe Her loue of frendshyp haue I to the won and therfore hath she laid her faith to borow Algate a foote is hameled of thy sorowe what shulde I lenger sermon of it holde As ye haue herde before al he him tolde But right as floures through the colde of night I closed stoupen in her stalkes low Redressen hem ayen the sunne bryght And spreden in her kynde course by rowe Ryght so gan tho his eyen vp to throwe Thys Troylus and sayd O Venus dere Thy myght thy grace yheryed
was borne this Danao Shope hym a name and called hym Lyno That other brother called was Egiste That was of loue as false as euer hym lyste And many a doughter got he in hys lyfe Of whych he got vpon hys ryght wyfe A doughter dere and dyd her for to call Hypermestra yongest of hem all The whych chylde of her natiuite To all good thewes borne was she As lyked to the goddes or she was borne That of the shefe she shulde be the corne The werdes that we clepen destyne Hath shapen her that she muste nedes be Pytous sadde wyse trewe as stele And to thys woman it accordeth wele For though y t Venus yaue her great beaute wyth Iupiter compowned so was she That conscience trouth drede of shame And of her wyfehode for to kepe her name Thys thought her was felicyte as here And reed Mars was that tyme of the yere So feble that hys malyce is hym rafte Repressed hath Venus hys crafte And what wyth Venus other oppression Of houses Mars hys venym is a don That Hypermester dare not handle a knyfe In malyce though she shulde lese her lyfe But nathelesse as heuen gan tho turne Two badde aspectes hath she of Saturne That made her to dye in pryson And I shall after make mencion Of Danao and Egystes also And though so be y t they were brethren two For thylke tyme nas spared no lynage It lyked hem to maken mariage Betwyxte Hypermestre and hym Lino And casten suche a daye it shal be so And full accorded was it vtterly The aray is wrought the tyme is fast by And thus Lyno hath of hys fathers brother The doghter wedded ech of heÌ„ hath other The torches brennen the lampes bryght The sacrifyce ben full redy dyght Thensence out of the fyre reketh soote The floure the leefe is rent vp by the roote To maken garlandes and crownes hye Full is the place of sounde of mynstralcye Of songes amourous of mariage As thylke tyme was the playne vsage And thys was in the paleys of Egyste That iÌ„ his house was lord right as him lyst And thus that daye they dryuen to an ende The frendes taken leue home they wende The nyght is comen y e bryd shal go to bedde Egyste to hys chambre fast hym spedde And pryuely let hys doughter call when y t the house voyded was of hem all He loketh on hys doughter with glad chere And to her spake as ye shall after here My ryght doughter tresour of myne herte Sens fyrst y t day that shapeÌ„ was my sherte Or by the fatall suster had my dome So nye myne herte neuer thynge ne come As thou Hypermestre doughter dere Take hede what thy father sayeth the here And werke after the wyser euermo For alderfyrst doughter I loue the so That all the worlde to me nys halfe so lefe Ne nolde rede the to thy myschefe For all the good vnder the colde moone And what I mene it shal be sayd right soone wyth protestacion as sayne these wyse That but thou do as I shall the deuyse Thou shalt be deed by him y t al hath wrouÈt At short wordes thou ne scapest nought Out of my paleys or that thou be deed But thou consent and werke after my reed Take thys to the fearfull conclusyon Thys Hypermister caste her eyen doun And quoke as doth the leefe of aspe grene Deed wext her hewe lyke as asshen to sene And sayd lorde and father all your wyll After my myght god wote I shall fulfyll So it be to me no confusyon I nyll quod he haue none excepcion And out he caught a knyfe as rasour kene Hyde thys ê™ he that it be not ysene And when thyne husbande is to bedde go whyle that he slepeth cutte hys throte a two For in my dremes it is warned me Howe that my neuewe shall my bane be But whych I not wherfore I woll be syker Yf thou say nay we two shall haue a byker As I haue sayd by him that I haue sworne This Hipermister hath nigh her wyt forlorn And for to passen harmlesse out of y t place She grauÌ„ted hiÌ„ ther was none other grace And wythal a costrel taketh he tho And sayd herof a draught or two Yeue hym drynke when he goeth to reste As he shall slepe as longe as euer the leste The narcottikes and a pies ben so stronge And go thy way lest y t hym thynke to longe Out cometh y e bryd with ful sobre chere As is of maydens ofte the manere To chaÌ„bre brought with reuel with songe And shortly lest thys tale be to longe Thys Lino and she beth brought to bedde And euery wyght out at the dore him spedde The nyght is wasted and he fell a slept Full tenderly begynneth she to wepe She ryst her vp dredfully she quaketh As doth the brauÌ„che that zephirus shaketh And hushte were all in Argone that cyte As colde as any frost nowe wexeth she For pyte by the herte strayned her so And drede of deth doth her so moche wo That thryse downe she fyll in suche a were She ryste her vp and stakereth here there And on her handes fast loketh she Alas shall myne handes bloody be I am a mayde and as by my nature And by my semblaunt and by my vesture Myne handes ben not shapen for a knyfe As for to reue no man fro hys lyfe what dyuell haue I wyth the knyfe to do And shall I haue my throte corue a two Then shall I blede alas and be shende And nedes thys thynge mote haue an ende Or he or I mote nedes lese our lyfe Nowe certes quod she sens I am hys wyfe And hath my fayth yet is it bette for me For to be deed in wysely honeste Then be a traytour lyuynge in my shame Be as be may for ernest or for game He shall awake and ryse and go hys way Out at thys gutter er that it be day And wept full tenderly vpon hys face And in her armes gan hym to embrace And hym she roggeth and awaketh softe And at the wyndowe lepe he fro the lofte wheÌ„ she hath warned hym don hym boote Thys Lino swyfte was and lyght of foote And from her ran a full good paas Thys sely woman is so weake alas And helpelesse so that er she ferre wente Her cruell father dyd her for to hente Alas Lyno why arte thou so vnkynde why ne haste thou remembred in thy mynde And taken her and ledde her forth wyth the For when she sawe that gone away was he And that she myght not so faste go Ne folowen hym she sate downe ryght tho And tyll she was caught fettred in prison Thys tale is sayd for thys conclusyon ¶ Thus ende the legendes of good women ¶ A goodly Balade of Chaucer MOther of norture best be loued of all And freshest floure to whoÌ„ good thrift god seÌ„de Your chylde yf it lust you