Amoure.

All that, madame, I knew ryght perfetly,
Some men there be of that condicyon;
That them delyte often in novelty,
And many also love perfeccyon.
I cast all suche noveltes in objection;
My love is set upon a perfet grounde,
No falshed in me truly shal be founde.

Pucell.

Ye saye full well, yf ye meane the same; 2/30 But I in you can have no confydence; I thinke right well that it is no game To love unloved wyth percynge influence. You shall in me fynde no suche neclygence To grante you love, for ye are unthryfty, As two or thre to me doth specify.

Amoure.

Was never lover without enemies thre, As Envy, Malyce, and Perturbaunce? Theyr tongues are poyson unto amyte; What man on live can use suche governaunce 2/4 To attayne the favoure withouten varyaunce Of every persone, but right pryvely Behinde his backe some sayth unhappely?

Pucell.

Trouthe it is; but yet, in this cace,
Your love and myne is full ferre asunder:
But thoughe that I do your herte so race
Yf I drede you it is therof no wonder;
Wyth my frendes I am so sore kepte under,
I dare not love but as they accorde,

They thynke to wedde me to a myghty lorde.

Amoure.

2150 I knowe, madame, that your frendes all
Unto me sure wyll be contraryous;
But what for that? your selfe in speciall
Remembre there is no love so joyous

As is your owne to you most precyous;

Wyll you gyve your youthe and your flourynge aege
To them agaynst your mynde in maryage?

Pucell.

Agaynst my mynde, of that were I lothe,
To wed for fere, as them to obey;

Yet had I lever they were somwhat wrothe,
215 For I my selfe do bere the locke and kaye
Yet of my mynde, and wyll do many a daye.
Myne owne I am, what that I lyste to do
I stand untyed, there is no joye therto.

Amoure.

O swete lady! the good perfyte sterre
Of my true herte, take ye now pyte;

Thynke on my payne whiche am tofore you here,

Wyth your swete eyes beholde and se,

you

How thought and wo, by great extremyte,
Hath chaunged my hue into pale and wanne:
It was not so whan I to love began.

Pucell.

So, me thynke, it doth right well appere
By your coloure that love hath done you wo;
Your hevy countenaunce and your dolefull chere;
Hath love suche myght for to aray you so
In so short a space? I marvayle moche also
That ye wolde love me so sure in certayne,
Before ye knewe that I wolde love agayne?

Amoure.

My good dere herte ! it is no mervayle why;

Your beaute cleare and lovely lokes swete 2/ My herte dyde perce with love so sodaynly At the fyrste tyme that I dyde you mete; In the olde temple whan I dyde you grete, Your beaute my herte so surely assayde, That syth that tyme it hath to you obayde.

YOUR WO and payne, and all your languishynge Continually ye shall not spende in vayne, Sythen I am cause of your great mornynge, Nothynge exyle you shall I by dysdayne; Youre hert and myne shall never parte in twayne: 219 Though at the fyrste I wolde not condescende, It was for fere ye dyde some yll entende.

Amoure.

With thought of yll my mynde was never myxte,
To you, madame, but alway clene and pure,
Bothe daye and nyght upon you hole perfyxte.
-But I my mynde yet durst nothynge discure,
How for your sake I dyd suche wo endure,

Tyll now this houre with dredfull hert so faynt
To you, swete herte, I have made my complaynt.

Pucell.

I demed ofte you loved me before, 22 By your demenour I dyde it aspye, And in my mynde I juged evermore That at the laste ye wolde full secretly Tell me your mynde of love right gentilly; As ye have done, so my mercy to crave, In all worshyppe you shal my true love have,

Amoure.

O Lorde God than! how joyfull was I! She loked on me wyth lovely countenaunce; I kyst her ones or twise right swetely; Her depured vysage, replete with pleasaunce, 221 Rejoyced my heart with amerous purveaunce. O lady clere! that perste me at the rote, O floure of comforte, all my hele and bote!

O gemme of vertue, and lady excellent!
Above all other in beauteous goodlynesse!
O eyen bright as sterre refulgent,
O profounde cause of all my sekenesse,
Now all my joye and all my gladnes,
Wolde God that we were joyned in one,
In maryage, before this day were gone.

Pucell.

A, a! sayd she, ye must take a payne a whyle;
I must depart, by the compulcyon

Of my frendes, I wyl not you begyle,
Though they me led to a ferre nacion,
My heart shall be without variacion
Wyth you present, in perfite sykernes,
As true and stable without doublenes.

To me to come is harde and daungerous,
When I am there; for gyauntes ugly,

Wyth two monstres also, blacke and tedyous,
2230 That by the waye awayte full cruelly
For to distroye you yll and utterly,
Whan you that way do take the passage,
To attayne my love by hye advauntage.

Amoure.

All that, madame, was to me certyfyde
By good dame Fame, at the begynnynge,
Whan she to me of you well notyfide,
As she came frome the toure of Lernynge,
Of all such enemyes the myght excludynge.
I promyse unto you here, full faythfully,
2240 Whan I departe frome dame Astronomy,

That I wyll to the toure of Chyvalry,
And for your sake become adventurous
To subdue all enemyes to me contrary;
That I may after be ryght joyous

Wyth you, my lady, most swete and precyous.
Wo worth the cause of your departynge,
Which all my sorowes is in renuynge!

Alas! what pleasure, and eke wythout disporte, Shall I now have, whan that ye be gone? 23 Ha, ha! truly now wythout good conforte, My dolorous herte shall be left alone, Wythout your presence to me is none; For every houre I shall thynke a yere, Tyll fortune brynge me unto you more nere.