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A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight

Originally written in the Greeke Tongue, by an unknowne Author. Afterwards Translated into Spanish; after that, for the Excellency thereof, into the French Tongue by N. H. next by B. M. into the Thuscan, and now turn'd into English Verse by L. L. [i.e. Leonard Lawrence] a well-wisher to the Muses

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Translator to the Ladies.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Translator to the Ladies.

Oh that my Tongue were now with Silver tip't,
Since to yee Ladies I must sing with it:
Nay, I could wish the concave of my throate
Were sin'd with Brasse, since that I the note

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Of the sad Knight must sound unto your eares,
And with my Verse expresse his mourning teares.
Oh! could I gaine but little Philomel,
Phœbus sweet Bird, within my breast to dwell,
That she might teach me how to warble forth
A mourning Ditty, for I now am loath
To venture on this following worke: for why,
I am unskill'd, nor e're could versifie.
And then againe, I did it enterprize,
Ere I did finde that it unto your eyes
Should be presented: had it beene to men,
I'de not have car'd, if they had censur'd them:
But's to your honourd sexe, you'le judge aright,
And on my faults your sweet eyes soone will light:
But passe them Ladies, when yee them espy,
Not on my faults, on me reflect your eyes:
And pardon Ladies, if my Muse affords
No pleasing straines, or if my ill plac't words
Expresse no sweetnesse, or my halting Verse
Doe not runne currant; for I ne're converst
With the Nine Muses, never did I clime
Pernassus top, my wits for to sublime;
Helicons sweet water I did never taste,
But if I drank't, it was upon the waste:
Ambrosia, Nectar never did I touch,
Then of my rudenesse censure not too much.
But stay my Muse, if you this course doe keepe,
You'le run astray, and I be forc't to seeke
A new my Subject: then let's not digresse
From our intended purpose, but rehearse
The Knights sad words. Oh neither let my tongue
Injure Arnalte, or the Authour wrong.