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 |  |
The Dance ended, Lucenda she retires
So nigh the Queene (crossing my desires)
That 'twas impossible to conferre,
But one or other would us over-heare:
Wherefore I did resolve for to indite
A Letter to her, and in blacke and white
To give her knowledge of those things, which I
At that same present could not verbally:
Then to a Ward-robe I my selfe with-drew,
And there afresh my passions 'gan renew:
For pen and paper I'de no sooner tane,
But straight I felt my former burning flame;
Through heate of which I suffering cruell smart,
With paine I wrot the torments of my heart.
Ending my Letter, which in pleats most small
I foulded up, returning therewithall
Towards Lucenda, slily dropping downe
Into the traine of her embroyder'd Gowne:
Yet this I could not act so cunningly,
But she perceiv'd it with her rowling eye:
Yet in respect and honour of the Queene
She was constrain'd to pas't, as if unscene:
Th'affects of my sad missive Ile repeat,
And how my Lines in my behalfe did treat.
So nigh the Queene (crossing my desires)
That 'twas impossible to conferre,
But one or other would us over-heare:
Wherefore I did resolve for to indite
A Letter to her, and in blacke and white
To give her knowledge of those things, which I
At that same present could not verbally:
Then to a Ward-robe I my selfe with-drew,
And there afresh my passions 'gan renew:
For pen and paper I'de no sooner tane,
But straight I felt my former burning flame;
Through heate of which I suffering cruell smart,
With paine I wrot the torments of my heart.
Ending my Letter, which in pleats most small
I foulded up, returning therewithall
Towards Lucenda, slily dropping downe
Into the traine of her embroyder'd Gowne:
Yet this I could not act so cunningly,
But she perceiv'd it with her rowling eye:
Yet in respect and honour of the Queene
She was constrain'd to pas't, as if unscene:
Th'affects of my sad missive Ile repeat,
And how my Lines in my behalfe did treat.
| A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight | |