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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 | A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight |  |
Through Nights approach the Tourney had an end,
Each one retires, their courses homeward bend:
The King, Queene, Ladies, they returne to Court,
The Knights dis-arme themselves for other sport:
The masking houre time doth usher in;
And then the Maskers they their sport begin:
Some sit and talke, some others neately trip
With measur'd steps, and freely dance and skip,
With those they will select, but wretched I
Afresh 'gan grieve, and waile my misery:
Since that I saw my selfe to have such store
Of sighes and sorrowes, but in comforts poore:
Thus e'ne o're-whelmed in the sea of griefe,
Meerely dispairing of the least reliefe,
I rouz'd my spirits, and I straight waies went
Vnto Lucenda, and I did present
My service to her, treating her to glance
A gracious looke, and daigne with me to dance:
To which she had not willingly con'scended,
If that the custome had not me befriended:
Then up she rose, and gave me her faire hand,
The touch whereof had power to command
A fleeting soule, to stay his hasty flight,
Thinking Elysium in her glorious sight:
Who hath the skill of words for to expresse
The joy, sorrow, griefe, and happinesse
I joyntly did conceive? how each did strive,
For sometimes dying, I as soone revive:
Like Tantalus I was afflicted still,
I saw my helpes, but could not have my will,
Which by the vest I wore, I did expresse,
For on my Mancell broyder'd was this Verse,
Each one retires, their courses homeward bend:
The King, Queene, Ladies, they returne to Court,
The Knights dis-arme themselves for other sport:
The masking houre time doth usher in;
And then the Maskers they their sport begin:
Some sit and talke, some others neately trip
With measur'd steps, and freely dance and skip,
With those they will select, but wretched I
Afresh 'gan grieve, and waile my misery:
Since that I saw my selfe to have such store
Of sighes and sorrowes, but in comforts poore:
Thus e'ne o're-whelmed in the sea of griefe,
Meerely dispairing of the least reliefe,
I rouz'd my spirits, and I straight waies went
Vnto Lucenda, and I did present
My service to her, treating her to glance
A gracious looke, and daigne with me to dance:
To which she had not willingly con'scended,
If that the custome had not me befriended:
Then up she rose, and gave me her faire hand,
The touch whereof had power to command
A fleeting soule, to stay his hasty flight,
Thinking Elysium in her glorious sight:
Who hath the skill of words for to expresse
The joy, sorrow, griefe, and happinesse
39
For sometimes dying, I as soone revive:
Like Tantalus I was afflicted still,
I saw my helpes, but could not have my will,
Which by the vest I wore, I did expresse,
For on my Mancell broyder'd was this Verse,
| A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight | |