Tragicall Tales translated by Tvrbervile :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thrice happie those I deeme aboue the rest,
That ground good will, and fixe affection so,
As in the end it fall out for the best,
Not broken off by fortune, nor by foe:
Seedes wisely sowen will prosper well and growe.
But where aduise and wholsome counsel wants,
Trees may not proue, they perish in the plants

Who makes his choice to loue in tender age.
And scornes the skill of such as time hath taught,
And headlong runnes at riot in his rage,
Is like the birde in net by fowler caught,
Bringing himselfe and all his wealth to naught:
It cannot be but such as counsel scorne,
Must needes at length be vtterly forlorne.

The sicke that loathes to listen to his cure,
And seekes no meane his maladie to cease,
To die the death, for lacke of helpe is sure.
The carelesse man is full of wretchednesse:
So raging loue brings balefull end, vnlesse
The patient plie, and lend a bending eare,
Vnto his friend, that willes to forbeare.

VVhich seldome when in frantike youth is found,
In case of loue where pleasure strikes the stroke,
They hate the plaister that should heale the wound,
And like the beast runne willing to the yoke,
That with his straightnesse sundrie times doth choke.

The least anoy that fraile desires bestow,
Is wracke of wealth, if quite the carcasse goe:

Yea diuers times goodes, life, and al decayes,
Through foolish luste, and wanton witlesse wil:
So many be the driftes and double waies:
That craftie dames doe put in practise still,
As some they sotte, and other some thay kill.
They little force, how raging louers rewe,
So they themselues in peace the pageant vewe:

Not much vnlike the wilie witted boy
That tiles his trappe to take the subtile foxe,
Who clappes his handes, and makes the greatest ioy,
When he pecceiues fale Raynard in the stockes,
And for his labour giues ten thousand mockes:
So craftie Dames contented are to lute
Men on to loue, but scorne them being sure.

Their pranking beauties pricke them on to pride,
Their feitured limmes bedeckt with natures die:
Makes them followe rigour for their guide,
And ouerlookes their friendes with haughtie eye,
Who for their loues are euen at point to die:
Without regarde of spoyle, or of expence,
Deeming them selues quite cleare of all offence.

As in this processe plaine is set to viewe,
Wherein a heauie mistresse playde her parte,
Right well content to let Nastagio rewe,
And for good will to reape disdaine and smarte,
That loude her from the bottome of his hearte:
Who though were ritche, and noble by descent,
Yet might not make her marble minde relent,

By lingring loue she made his monie mealte,
As waxe doth weare against the flaming fire:
Through her disdaiue outragiously he dealt,

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Wasting his wealth to compasse fond desire,
A great deale more than reason did require:
She was the cause, for had not fancie bene:
He would more neere vnto his profite seene.

But womens beauties bleare the clearest eyes,
Their feeble force makes weake the wisest wittes,
Their limber chaines the sturdie Champion ties,
The grauest sage is thrall to louing fitts,
The rockiest brest with bolt Cupido hittes:
And who so thinkes to scape most cleare away,
Is soonest caught, and makes the longest stay.

I coulde accompte Cupido for a God,
When I respect his puissance and his might,
If in his shaftes he were not found so odde,
But would in case of liking deale aright,
And force faire dames their louers to requite.
But commonly when men in fansie burne.
Then womens hartes are most vnapt to turne.

When man both rage, his Ladie lies at rest,
When he laments, she liues at quiet ease,
She coldely loues, when he doth fancie best,
And when she powtes, yet he must seeke to please,
And make faire wether in tho roughest seas:
Yea, and perhaps, at last when all is done,
As farre to seeke as when he first begonne,

As proues this noble man who hauing spente
No slender summes in seruice of his loue,
And barde himselfe, by racking of his rent:
Yet could by no desert good lyking moue,
In ruthlesse brest no pitties plantes might proue,
Till feare of harmes her late repentance wrought,
She could to clothe by no deuise be brought:

But when in fine this bloody broile she sawe,

And plainely vewde, amid the open groue
The Ladies plagues: then was she pincht with awe
Of like successe then little Cupide stroue
Within her bulke, because that she had moue
The web that wrought Nastagio all his woe:
And thereupon she lette to be his foe.

Then fell she flatte to fansie out of hande,
Than sent she messege to bewray her mynde,
Then did she let Nastagio vnderstande,
How that she meant no more to be vnkinde,
But willing was her selfe in matche to binde:
Whereby we see that sundry things are done,
By force of feare, which wit had neuer wonne.

But sure good will of feare that takes his grounde,
But badly proues, a fansie forst in harte
Full lightly fades, and seldome when is sounde,
With euery heate tis ready to departe,
It doth resemble colours made by arte.
The franke consent in loue tis euer best,
Whom meere affection breedes in yeelding brest.

Faire Ladies, beare with what I vtter here,
Concerning women, and their deepe disgrace,
I gyrde the coye, I leaue the curteous cleare.
And this I say: who fawnes vpon the face
Of any dame, and reape, a scornefull grace:
Were she as braue as Paris Ladie was,
For louing so he proues himselfe an Asse.

Who serues sot, and bowes at euery becke,
Without the guerdon that to loue is dewe,
And playes his game at chesse to gayne a checke,
Deserues the mate that doth the checke ensewe,
Because he scornes his mischiefe to eschewe:
And she that hath a perfite friend to trust,
Deserues a plague, if she be found vniust.

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You stately Dames, that peacocklyke do pace,
Through pride abusing such as are your thralls,
Enforcing them for lacke of better grace,
Unto their bane, which sundrie times befalles,
Not finding salue to cure their griefull galles:
Euphymias plagues imprinte in heedefull mynde,
And looke for like, if you be found vnkynde.

Amachitama.

Minor pana Tantall ne linferno
Pate, che chi di donna sta al gouerno.