The cõforte of louers | Page 9

for the fayre
ladyes sake
That ye dyd loue / ye dyde that boke so make
[P] Amour.
Forsothe madame / I dyde compyle that boke
As the holy goost / I
call vnto wytnes
But ygnorauntly / who so lyst to loke
Many
meruelous thynges in it / I do expresse
My lyue and loue / to enserche

well doublesse
Many a one doth wryte / I knowe not what in dede

Yet the effecte dooth folowe / the trouthe for to spede
[P] Pucell.
I graunt you well / all that whiche you saye
But tell me who it is / that
ye loue so sure
I promyse you that I wyll not bewraye
Her name
truely to ony creature
Pyte it is / you sholde suche wo endure
I do
perceyue / she is not ryght ferre hence
Whiche that ye loue /
withouten neclygence
[P] Amour.
Surely madame / syth it pleaseth your hyghnesse
And your honour to
speke so nobly
It is your grace / that hath the intresse
In my true
herte / with loue so feruently
Ryght longe ago / your beaute sodanly

Entred my mynde / and hath not syth dekayde
With feruent loue /
moost wofully arayde
[P] Pucell.
{A}nd is it I / that is cause of your loue
{y}f it so be I can not helpe
your payne
It sholde be harde / to gete to your aboue
Me for to loue
/ I dyde not you constrayne
{y}e knowe what I am / I knowe not you
certayne
I am as past your loue to specyfy
Why wyll ye loue where
is no remedy
[P] Amour.
A madame you are cause of my languysshe
ye maye me helpe / yf
that it to you please
To haue my purpose / my herte dooth not
menysshe
Thoughe I was seke / ye knewe not my dysease
I am not
hole / your mercy maye me ease
To proue what I am / the holy goost
werke styll
My lyfe and deth / I yelde nowe to your wyll
[P] Pucell.

Fortune me thynke / is meruaylous fauorable
To you by getynge / of
this ryall floure
Hauynge this swerde / and shelde so profytable
In
mortall daungers / to be your socoure
But as touchynge your loue and
fauoure
I can not graunt / neyther fyrst ne last
ye knowe what I am /
ye knowe my loue is past
[P] Amour.
Madame the floure / the swerde and shelde also
Whiche fortune gate
me / are not halfe so dere
As your persone the cause of my wo

Whose grace and beaute / shyneth so ryght clere
That in my herte
your beaute doth appere
Nothynge is past / but that fortunes pleasure

May call it agayne / in the tyme future
[P] Pucell.
I denye not but that your dedes do shewe
By meruaylous prowes /
truely your gentylnesse
To make you a carter / there were not afewe

But tho by crafte / whiche thought you to oppresse
To accombre
them selfe applye the besynesse
yet thynke not you / so soone to se a
cradle
I graunt you loue / whan ye were golden sadle
[P] Amour.
Madame truely / it is oft dayly sene
Many a one dooth trust / his
fortune to take
From an other man / to make hym blynde I wene

Whiche blyndeth hym / and dooth his pompe aslake
Often some hye /
do fall alowe and quake
Ryght so maye they / whiche dyde fyrst
prepence
My wo and payne for all theyr yll scyence
[P] Pucell.
To loue me so / whiche knoweth my persone
And my frendes eke /
me thynke ye are not wyse
As now of me conforte haue ye none

Wherefore this answere / maye to you suffyse
I can not do / but as my

frendes deuyse
I can no thynge do / but as they accorde
They haue
me promest / to a myghty lorde
[P] Amour.
Madame in this worlde ben but thynges twayne
As loue and hate / ye
knowe your selfe the trouthe
yf I sholde hate you / deth I were worthy
playne
Than had you cause / with me to be wrothe
To deserue
dyspleasure / my herte wolde be lothe
Wherfore fayre lady / I yelde at
this hower
To your mekenes / my herte my loue and power
[P] Pucell.
{I} thynke you past all chyldy ygnoraunce
{But} gladde I am / yf
prudence be your guyde
{Gr}ace cometh often after gouernaunce

{B}eware of foly / beware of inwarde pryde
Clymbe not to fast / but
yet fortune abyde
For your loue I thanke you / yf trouthe haue it fyxte

As with yll thought / neuer for to be myxte
[P] Amour.
Surely my mynde / nor yet my purpose
In ony cause by foly dyde
vary
Neuer doynge thynke open ne close
That to your honour
sholde be contrary
As yet for grace I am content to tary
For myn
enmyes fraude and subtylnes
Whiche pryuely begyne theyr owne
vnhapynesse
[P] Pucell.
Now of trouthe / I do vnto you tell
The thynge [that] to your enmyes
is moost dyspleasure
Is for to gouerne you by