University of Virginia Library

The Ladies Letter of pittie to her afflictd friend, to whom she had been cruell

As thou wilt muze to reade,
so I might blush to write
These lines of loue, who for goodwill
haue fed thee with despite
And from the day when thou
becamst a thrall in loue,
Could neuer spare one sparke of grace
that was for thy behoue:
Till now, both cleane against
mine honour and mine vse,
A Ladie, and a mayden both,
I sende thee termes of truce.
But listen well vnto
the tale that I shall tell.
Ere rashly thou my kindnesse deeme,
and thinke I vse thee well.
For Lions seldome sewe
vnto the sillie sheepe,
No porter to their captiues crouch,
whom they in chaines doe keepe
Few Ladies of estate,
few Dames of hie degree,
Doe bow vnto their vassals willes,
as I doe now to thee.
But knowe that though I write
the wordes of great good will:
Yet I regarde mine honour aye,
and keepe my countnance still.
No lust procurde my lynes,
my credite to impaire:
No fleshie fitte my fancie forst
to speake Nastagio faire.
But seeing how in seas
of sorow and distresse,
Thy body bathde for loue of me:
I could not doe no lesse,
But seeke to salue thy harmes
by pitying thine anoy,
Who, to possesse my liked limmes,
bereft thy selfe of ioy.
I saw howe for my sake
thou wasted hadst thy welth,
And planting battrie to my fort,
wert retchlesse of thy health:
Deuising how to raze
the bulwarke of my brest,
And scale the walles of my good will,
whom thou didst fancie best,
I plainly did perceiue
(as Louers soone will see,)
Howe thou forsookest thy natiue soyle,
and all for loue of me:
Quite carelesse of thy coyne,
thy friendes and yeerely rents,
Not forcing stately builded bowres,
nor gallant garish tentes:
Which when I flatly found,
from fansie to proceede,
(Although thou thoughtst me ouerproud)
I pitied thee in deede.
Yea Ioue shall be my iudge,
when thou beganste to sewe,
And in Rauenna wert inragde,
and first to liking grewe:
Thy courtly grace was such,
so comly was thy corse,
And all thy partes so pleasde mine eyes,
as I had had remorse,
And bended to thy bowe,
saue that I dreaded guiles:
My fearefull youth bid me beware,
of mens mistrustfull wiles.
Who faine to frie in loue,
and melt with fansies flames:
When their deuise is only how
by craft to compasse dames.
I reade in auncient bookes,
how Iason playde the Iew,
And to the Queene that savde his life,
in fine was found vntrue:
Not forcing her a figge,
who for his sake forwent
Both aged syre, and tender babes,
and crowne by due descent.
Againe I calde to minde
how false Æneas fled,
And left the curteous Carthage dame
fast sleepiug in her bed:
Whose bountie earst had bounde
by det and due desart,
When weatherbeaten he arrvide,
this trayterous Troyans hart.
Theu Theseus came to thought,
and pranking Paris eake:
Who like vnfaithfull fickle men,
their sworne vowes did breake.
Fayre Oenons wofull writ
can witnesse of the tone:
Thother from Ariadna fled
and left her post alone.
With sundrie suters mo,
who being bound to loue,
Saunce quarell good, or matter why,
their likings did remoue:
Renouncing to their shames,
those Ladies, who did rewe
Their base estates, and did relieue
the men they neuer knewe
These partes procurde my pawse,
And wilde me to beware,
Least I by giuing rash consent
to loue, were trapt in snare.
My loue was like to thine,
I fryde with egall fire:
But nature helpes vs to conceale
the sparkes of our desire.
Kinde aydes vs to conuey
our fittes in finer wise:
For honours sake, than men, who shew
their fancies by their eyes,
Which if we Ladies did,
Defame would ring her bell,
And blaze out armes in colours base
although we meant but well.
You men like Marchants are
that set their wares to showe,
Whereby to lure the lookers eyes
that by your wyndowes goe,
And sundrie times in steade
of right and costly clothes,
You vtter trash, and trifling stuffe,
which euery chapman lothes.
But we like Goldsmithes deale,
that forge their plate within:
Whose hammers plie the Anuil aye,
and yet no working seen.
No smoke nor smoother flies,
for any to beholde,
Untill the rude vnperfite masse
be brouhht to burnisht golde.
We worke, but all within,
our hammers are not heard:
We hotly loue, but keepe it close,
for feare our match be marde,
For who esteemes the mayde,
or holdes the virgin pure:
That standes a stale for euerie guest,
and stoupes to euerie lure?
Yea, be she maide or wife,
if once her lookes be light,
And that in sundrie suters tales
she place her deepe delight:
Downe is her credite cut
with hatchet of mishap,
Her honour hewde in peeces straight,
by meane of open lap.
O Goddes, what griefe were this
vnto a noble minde?
How would it vexe an honest Nymph,
whose credite clearely shynde?
For offer of goood will,
with meaning not amisse:
To beate the badge of Helen, or
of Creside, for a kisse?
Then ought not we (I pray)
that noble maydens are,
So guide our tender steppes of state,
as vertue may prefarre,
And place vs in the ranke,
that is for Ladies dewe?
Should we lende light beliefe to loue:
or euery suter rewe?
So might we reape the crop
of care, and foule defame:
Where earst we neuer meant to sowe
the sinfull seedes of shame.
I write not this of all
that louing suters bee,
Or in such sort, as though I thought
the like deceit in thee,
As earst in Iason was,
or in the wandring Prince,
And sundrie other Lordings mo,
that haue bene louers since.
One Swallow is no signe
that Sommer time is come,
No more must all Cupidos knightes
be cast because of some,
Birdes are not plumde alike,
yet all birdes in kinde:
So men are men: but yet in some
more fickle partes we finde.
I counte thee no such one
as lightly will remoue:
Thy lingring sute, my long delayes
confirme thy faith in loue.
Whom sith I finde so firme
and stedfast in desire,
As neither lowring lookes, nor lacke
can make thee once retyre,
Or folter in thy fayth,
which thou hast vowde to me:
Proceede in loue, but hast thee home,
that I thy face may see.
Plucke vp thy manly minde,
and sprites forspent with woe:
Drie vp the deaw that from thine eyes
and drearie cheekes do flow:
Doe barbe that boysterous beard:
that ouergrowes thy face:
Either cut, or kembe thy feltred lockes
to mende thy manly grace.
Put on thy golden gyte,
and former fresh aray:
Bestride thine auncient stately steede
and quickly come away.
Backe to Rauenna ride,
euen there to purchase ioy,
Where thou ere this (the more my blame)
hast liude in great anoy.
Forgo thy solemne walkes,
bandon Classie wood:
Leaue off to leade thy life in lawndes,
imbrace thy townish good.
Thou art no vowed Monke
in Cloyster close to dwell:
No Ancker thou enioynde with Beads,
to hyde in simple Cell.
But thou a comelie knight,
in field a Martial man:
And eke in time of peace, a wight
that rule Rauenna can.
Whefore as I enforst
thy bale and causelesse care:
And was the onely she that made
thee mourne, and languish thare:
So (good Nastagio) nowe
let me reuoke thee thence:
That hande that did the harme ere this
nowe vse in thy defence.
I shot, I must confesse,
the dart that gaue the dynt,
For which, lo here the blesseful balme,
thy deadly griefes to stint.
Surceasse thy wofull plaintes,
discharge thy darke dispaire:
The golden beames of my remorse,
shall cleare thy cloudy ayre.
When angry frowning foes
encounter in the fildes,
With murdering mindes, the stronger slaies.
when once the weaker yeeldes.
Up goes the wrathfull sworde
into his sheath againe:
The yeelding of the tone, doth cause
that neuer a man is slaine.
If weakest thus may winne
by stouping to the strong,
In combate fell for life and death:
thou doest mee double wrong,
That hold in virgins hand,
thy bale and eke thy blisse,
And am thy Queene, and only ioy,
and frankly offer this:
If thou my kindnesse scorne,
and rather makste the choyce
To spill thy gallaunt prime in plants,
than with thy friendes reioyce.
Thou seest how I do sue,
to whom thou for suedst grace.
Sith I doe pitie thy distresse,
to hight thy dolefull case:
Dispatch without delay,
treade torments vnder foote,
That mirth within thy mourning minde
may take the deeper root.
The banquet latelie made,
where I beheld my cheere,
And marckte thy moode from point to point,
in whome did plaine appeare
A kinde and constant heart,
not bolstred vp with gyle:
Enflamde my liuer so with loue,
as I was forst to smyle.
And had by outward shewes,
bewraied thee my good will,
Saue that my mother present was
who markt my countenance still.
I sawe, when we approcht,
the tent amid the wood:
How all thy guests reioyst thee, but
twas I that did thee good,
My presence bred delight,
with thy blooming brest:
And to dissemble liking thou,
didst welcome all the rest.
I markt at table how.
thou slilie cast thine eie,
On me askance, and caruedst too
my mother by and by:
As who would say, behold
the meate I meant to thee,
I am enforst to giue it here
least they my fansie see.
And when I raught the wine,
and dranke my thyrst to quell,
In self same peece how thou would pledge
I yet remember well.
I saw, when after meat
wee parted home againe,
How all thy former frolicke fit,
was quickly changde to paine,
My comming brought thee blisse,
my parture made thee pine.
My beatie for the time enflamde
and heat that heart of thine.
I saw (what wilt thou more)
my presence was thy life,
And how mine absence set thy wits
at cruell warre and strife,
Then sith thine eyes are bent
to feed vppon my face,
And that the want of my good wiil
hath made thee runne this race:
I rew thee now at last,
I pitie thy distresse,
I yeeld that thou the castle of
thy comfort now possesse.
I am no Lions whelpe,
I suckt no Tigers teat,
In spoyle of such as sewde for loue,
delight I neuer set.
I neuer pleasure tooke,
in forcing foe to death.
Much lesse my tender heart wil brooke
to stoppe Nastagios breath.
Time giues assurance good
of thine vnfained trust:
Thou bearst no treason in thy brest,
thou hast no lechers lust.
Whom sithence I haue tride
in loue so perfect true:
To quit thy faith, I am thy friend,
reseruing honour due.
If marriage loue thou meane,
then franke consent I giue,
To yeeld thee vp Dianas bowe.
and loue thee whilst I liue.
In Iunos ioyfull yoke,
to ioyne and draw with thee:
It likes me well, there rests no more
but that my frends agree.
Small sute shal serue the turne,
for if they doe not yeeld:
Then I my selfe enright thee with
the conquest of the fielde,
My selfe do keepe the key,
where lies the iewell, which
Is thy delight, and onely ioy
whom thou desirst so much.
But no mistrust I haue,
thy motions are so good:
Thy flocke, and state, so noble, as
thou shalt not be withstood.
Wherefore (O makelesse man)
set all delayes aside,
Thy Ladie loues, and is content
to be thy bounden bride,
Retire, thou retthlesse wight,
whose lingring woundeth twaine:
Two noble hearts shall thinke them blest,
when thou returne againe,
These wordes I wrote in bed,
where oft I wisht for thee:
Mine honour bids me pawse at that,
as yet it must not be.
Farewell, with Nestors yeeres,
God sende thee happie daies:
Remember, thou that louing mindes
can broke no long delaies.
Alas, for thee I die
ten thousand times a day:
My fits be fierce, my griefe is great,
wherefore dispatch away.
I wish thee Dadals wings,
or Perseus praunsing steed,
Or els the Cart that Phæton rulde,
but better farre to speed.
In heart I am thy wife,
if that content thy will,
Once more adeu, thy lingring long,
thy faithfull friend will spill,