Puslapio vaizdai
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Amoure.

My good dere herte! it is no mervayle why;
Your beaute cleare and lovely lokes swete
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.

CAP. XIX.

HOW LA BELL PUCELL GRAUNTED GRAUND AMOURE LOVE,

AND OF HER DISPITEOUS DEPARTAGE.

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:
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,
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,
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,
That by the waye awayte full cruelly
For to distroye you yll and utterly,
Whan you that do take the passage,

way

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,
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?
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.

Yet after you I wyll not be ryght longe,

But hast me after as faste as I maye;

In the toure of Chyvalry I shall make me stronge,
And after that passe shortly on my way,
Wyth diligent laboure on my journay.
Spyte of your enemyes, I shal me so spede,
That in short tyme ye may rewarde my mede.

I thanke you, quod she, with my hert entere;
But yet with me ye shall make covenaunt,
As I to you am ryght lefe and dere,
Unto no persone ye shall so advaunte
That I to love you am so attendaunte,
For any thynge your councell not bewraye,
For that full soone might us bothe betraye.

And to tell me I pray you hertely;

Yonder is Counseyle, how were ye acquaynted?
He is bothe honest and true certaynly:
Doth he not knowe how your hert is faynted,
Wyth fervent love so surely attaynted?
Yf ye so do, yet I nothyng repent,
He is so secrete and true of entent.

Truely, madame, because ye are content

I shall you tell how the matter was;
Whan that your beaute, clerely splendent,
Into my herte full wonderly dyd passe,
Lyke as fayre Phebus dothe shyne in the glas,
All alone, wyth inwarde care so rent,

Into a temple forth on my way I went.

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Where that I walked, plunged in the pytte
Of great dispayre; and he than me mette.
Alas! he sayde, me thinke ye lose your wytte;
Tell me the trouth now, wythout any lete,
Why ye demeane suche mortall sorow great.
A voyde! quod I, you shall nothing it knowe,
You can not helpe in the case I trow.

But he suche reason and fruytfull sentence
Dyd for him laye, that I tolde hym all.
Whan he it knewe with all my diligence,
He dyd me conforte than in specyall:
Unto my minde he bad me to call,
Who spareth to speke he to spede doth spare;
Go tell your lady the cause of your care.

By whose counseyle grounded in wysdome,
To the entent I should spede the better,
And ryght shortly I dyd than to you come,
But drede alway made my sorowe greatter;
After great payne the joyes is the sweter.
For who that tasteth paynfull bytternes,
The joye to him is double swetenes.

And, therwythall, I did unto her brynge
Councell my frende, and full right meke
Dyd him receive as he was comynge;
And of all thynges she did hym beseke,
After her departinge, the same weke,
To hast me forwarde to my journeyes ende.
Therto, quod I, I do well condyscende.

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