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So after this I dyd then sone departe
Home to my countrey where I dyd abyde;
When I was gone full heavy was his harte.
As Cupide sayeth, I must for hym provyde
A gentle remedy at this sodayne tyde;
And for my sake he is adventurous
To subdue mine enemies to me contrarious.
A! quod Disdayne, knowe ye his substaunce?
Why wyll you love suche a one as he?
Though he seme gentle and of good governaunce,
You shall have one of farre hyer degre.
He is nothyng mete, as it semeth me,
To be your fere your favour to attayne.
What is it to you though he suffer payne?
Coulde your selfe let his eyen to have a syght
Of your beauty or his harte to be set,
What skilleth you though that he dye this nyght?
You called hym not when he with you mette;
And he will love you, you can not hym let.
Be as be may, ye shall have myne assent
Him for to forsake as is moste expedient.
Alas! madame, then saide dame Strangenes,
When he cometh hether your courage abate;
Loke hye upon hym; beware of mekenes;
And thinke that you shall have an hie estate.
Let not Graunde Amour saye to you checkmate.
Be straunge unto hym, as ye knowe nothyng
The perfite cause of his true commyng.
And in meane whyle came to her presence
Dame Peace and Mercie, and to her they sayde:
Alas! madame, consyder your excellence,
And howe your beauty hath hym so arayed:
If you have hym ye may be well apayed.
And doubt you not if that ye love for love,
God will sende ryches to come to you above.
Will you for love let hym dye or peryshe,
Whiche loveth you so with fervent desyre?
And you your selfe may his sorowe minishe,
That with your beauty set his harte a fyre.
Your swete lokes did his harte enspire,
That of fyne force he must to you obeye,
To live or dye there is no more to saye.
Alas! quod Peace, wyll ye let him endure
In mortal payne withouten remedy?
Sithen his harte you have so tane in cure,
Your hasty dome loke that ye modefy.
Exile Disdayne and Strangenes shortly,
And sende Perceverance as fast as ye may
To comfort hym in his troublous journey.
Then in her mynde she gan to revolve
The lovyng wordes of Mercy and Peace;
Her hardy harte she gan for to dissolve,
And inwardly she did to me release
Her perfite love your great payne to cease;
And did exile then from her to wyldernes
Bothe dame Disdayne and eke dame Strangenes.
And did me sende to you incontinent,
With this goodly shelde, that ye should it were,
For her swete sake as is convenient.
It is sure; ye shall not nede to feare
The stroke of swerde or yet the grate of spere.
She prayeth you to be of good chere ;
Above all men ye are to her moste deare.
Nowe, sayde Perceverance, I pray you repose
This long nyght with my cosen Comfort,
A gentle lady as any may suppose;
She can you tell and also well exhort
Of La Bell Pucell with a true report.
I thanke her of her great goodnes,
And so we rode with joye and gladnes,
Tyll that we came unto a manour place,
Moted about under a woode syde.
Alyght, she sayde, for by ryght long space.
I payne and wo you did ever abyde.
After an ebbe there commeth a flowyng tyde.
So downe I lyght from my goodly stede,
After my payne to have rest for my mede.
Then dame Perceverance on the way me ledde
Into the place, where did us gentilly mete
The Lady Comfort without any dredde,
With countenaunce that was demure and swete;
In goodly maner she dyd us then grete,
Leadyng us to a chamber precious,
Dulcet of odoure and most solacious.
And pryvely she asked a question,
Of Perceverance, what I called was?
La Graunde Amoure, without abusion,
Cosen, quod she: he doth all lovers passe;
Like as dothe Phebus in the pure glasse,
So doth his dedes extolle the soverayntie
Of the darke gyauntes by highe aucthoritie.
When she it knewe, she was of me ryght fayne;
Nothyng I lacked that was to my plesaunce,
After my travayle and my wofull payne:
Good meate and drynke I had to sustenaunce;
We sate together by long continaunce,
But evermore Comfort gave exhortacion
To me of pacience in tribulacion.
Thinke well, quod she, that in the worlde is none
Whiche can have pleasure without wo and care;
Joye cometh after, when the payne is gone:
Was never man that was devoyde or bare
Alway of joye after his wofull snare;
Who knoweth payne and hath bene in trouble,
After his wo his joye is to him double.
It may so fortune that La Bell Pucell
Hath divers frendes, that be not content
That her favoure ye should attayne so well;
For you of them she may often be shent,
But what for that? she shall not her repent,
And if her frendes be with you angry,
Suffer their wordes and take it paciently.
Agaynst their yll do unto them good,
Them for to please be alwaye diligent;
So shall you swage the tempesteous floode
Of their stormy myndes so impacient,
And inwardly they shall them selves repent
That they to you have bene contrarious,
In suche fyry anger hote and furious.
Thus by your wisdome ye shall them so wynne
Unto your frendes that dyd you so hate;
For it is reason you should obeye your kynne,
As by obedience both early and late
Make them your frendes without the debate;
For evermore the spirite of pacience
Doth overcome the angry violence.
Be hardy, bolde, and couragious;
For after that ye be gone from hence,
You shall mete with a gyaunt rigorious,
Havyng seven heades of yll experience.
You shall subdue him with your prudence;
And other adventures shall unto you fall,
Whiche Fame shall cause to be memoriall.
When it was tyme, I was brought to bedde,
So all the long nyght I endured in rest;
With suche a slouth i-taken was my heade,
That my soft pyllowe founde a good gest.
For long before I was so opprest
With inwarde trouble that I myght not slepe,
But oft wake and syghe with teares depe.