The Rocke of Regard diuided into foure parts. The first, the Castle of delight: Wherein is reported, the wretched end of wanton and dissolute liuing. The second, the Garden of Vnthriftinesse: Wherein are many sweete flowers, (or rather fancies) of honest loue. The thirde, the Arbour of Vertue: Wherein slaunder is highly punished, and vertuous Ladies and Gentlewomen, worthily commended. The fourth, the Ortchard of Repentance: Wherein are discoursed, the miseries that followe dicing, the mischiefes of quareling, the fall of prodigalitie: and the souden ouerthrowe of foure notable cousners, with diuers other morall, natural, & tragical discourses: documents and admonitions being all the inuention, collection and translation of George Whetstons |
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1
The Castle of delight.
THE DISORDERED life, of Bianca Maria, countesse of Celaunt, in forme of her complainte, supposed at the houre of her beheading, for procuring the murder of Ardissino Valperga Earle of Massino.
The Argument for the Countesse of Celants complaint.
Giachomo Scaperdon a notable Vsurer, had a gallant damosell vnto his daughter, called Bianca Maria, who arriuing to sixtene or seuentene yeares of age, suche was her sightly shape and beautie, together with the possibilitie of great wealth, that loe, she was a stall to toule diuers suiters: in the end Vicount Hermes fancying the mayde, and louing her wealth, was an earnest suiter to marrie her. Bianca Maria (desirous of honour) consented to haue him. Vicount Hermes possest of this faire Ladie, sone found out her natural disposition to wantonnesse: yet narrowly eyeing her behauiour during his life, he preserued her credite. But oh, this good Vicount dyed, euen in the prime of his wiues wantonnesse, who then crying libertie, set her selfe to sale with open shame: diuers suiters she had, among the which, the count of Celant made suite of marriage, the title of a Coūtesse so pleased her, as she soone assented to be his wife: afterwarde she so cunningly handled the matter, as all the countrie spake of her lightnesse, ere her husband misdoubted her loyaltie. But whē she perceiued his mistrust, she left him & fled to Pauy, where she interteined Ardisino Valperga, Earle of Masino as her minion: but wearie of his custome, she chose Roberto Sanceuerino, Earle of Giazzo for her louer. Valperga thus scorned, railed at hir inconstācie, Bianca Maria, by Valperga thus opēly defamed, practiseth with Gazzo to murther Valperga, which whē Giazzo neglecteth, with very hate she leaueth Giazzo, and falles in loue againe with Valperga, with whom she practiseth to murther Giazzo, which Valperga discouered to Giazzo, and they both in suche sort painted out her lewdnesse, as for very shame she left Pauy, and fled to Mantua, where she interteined one Dom Pietro, a lustie yong captaine, to whom she bewrayed the iniuries of Valperga and Giazzo. Dom Pietro by and by promised, in penance of their shamelesse reportes, to dispatch their liues, which in part he wilfully performed. For one day, taking Valperga at aduauntage, he soudenly slue him, the murther & the murtherer discouered, Dom Pietro was taken, & confessed the whole matter, he in hope of amēdment was pardoned, and Bianca Maria Countesse of Celant, was condemned to be beheaded, whome you may suppose vppon the scaffold, readie to be executed, to complaine as followeth.
Among
their falles, by wanton fate vntwist,
Let my lewde hap, remembred be I pray,
To salue whose harme to late coms had I wist,
Bloud cries for bloud, he craues none other pay:
For conscience sake, behould then now I wray,
With trickling teares, my deadly cheakes that warme,
The true report both of my hap and harme.
Let my lewde hap, remembred be I pray,
To salue whose harme to late coms had I wist,
Bloud cries for bloud, he craues none other pay:
For conscience sake, behould then now I wray,
With trickling teares, my deadly cheakes that warme,
The true report both of my hap and harme.
Good Ladies first, to you this tale I tell,
To you as chiefe this drirye plaint I preach,
Your hie estate, your vices cannot quell:
But as you liue your fame or shame doth streach,
With vauntage sure (such notes doth honour reach)
Your praise is raisde, as farre is blasd your blame:
Thus are your liues, y payst with parcial fame.
To you as chiefe this drirye plaint I preach,
Your hie estate, your vices cannot quell:
But as you liue your fame or shame doth streach,
With vauntage sure (such notes doth honour reach)
Your praise is raisde, as farre is blasd your blame:
Thus are your liues, y payst with parcial fame.
Let mee be proofe, and warning for you both,
Whose filthie life, so foule report hath spread,
That loe (constrainde) I showe the shame, I loth,
My wanton toyes, in thousand bookes are read,
My byrth, my blame, how lewde a life I lead,
My passing loue, my peeuish hate withall,
My murderous minde: in fine my filthie fall.
Whose filthie life, so foule report hath spread,
That loe (constrainde) I showe the shame, I loth,
My wanton toyes, in thousand bookes are read,
My byrth, my blame, how lewde a life I lead,
My passing loue, my peeuish hate withall,
My murderous minde: in fine my filthie fall.
First for my birth, I must confesse, was base,
But bagges I had, this basenesse to supplie,
My forme was fine, I had a gallant face,
A sugred tongue, a passing pleasaunt eye,
Good gifts besides, to hoyse my happe on hie:
These lures in loue, the Uicount Hermes brought,
Who kept mee short to tame my wanton thought.
But bagges I had, this basenesse to supplie,
2
A sugred tongue, a passing pleasaunt eye,
Good gifts besides, to hoyse my happe on hie:
These lures in loue, the Uicount Hermes brought,
Who kept mee short to tame my wanton thought.
But (ah) to soone my Lord to heauen did wend,
Who maugre will, Bianca kept in fame,
The coupe thus broke, wherein I long was pend,
I set my selfe, to saile with open shame,
Gonsago yet, did like mee with my blame,
But loe I stoopte, vnto the Celant Count,
Hee loude mee well, I likt a loft to mount.
Who maugre will, Bianca kept in fame,
The coupe thus broke, wherein I long was pend,
I set my selfe, to saile with open shame,
Gonsago yet, did like mee with my blame,
But loe I stoopte, vnto the Celant Count,
Hee loude mee well, I likt a loft to mount.
Consent of friendes, accorded with our wills,
And wee forsooth in haste must married bee,
But raisde a loft, I quight forgot what quills.
What feathers first, to honour made mee flee?
As priestes forget, the sillie clearkes degree,
So I from cart, a Countesse framde by fate,
Throughe scorne abusde, my honour and estate.
And wee forsooth in haste must married bee,
But raisde a loft, I quight forgot what quills.
What feathers first, to honour made mee flee?
As priestes forget, the sillie clearkes degree,
So I from cart, a Countesse framde by fate,
Throughe scorne abusde, my honour and estate.
No marueile why: For force the Cur to drawe,
The kestrill kyte, to cause the heron to quake,
The rauening wolfe of lambes to stand in awe,
The myllers mare, a mannage good to make,
Or apes to daunce, while mules lie at the stake,
A botelesse toile, in fine you sure shall finde:
For counterfettes will still returne to kinde.
The kestrill kyte, to cause the heron to quake,
The rauening wolfe of lambes to stand in awe,
The myllers mare, a mannage good to make,
Or apes to daunce, while mules lie at the stake,
A botelesse toile, in fine you sure shall finde:
For counterfettes will still returne to kinde.
And thinke you those, that weare dame Fortunes crowne,
Whose homely friends, did hould the ploughe of late,
Can rightly rule, the scepter of renowne?
No, honour stoupes to nature, not to fate:
Yet Fortune heaues, a thousand to estate.
As in good moode, shee did of late by mee,
Who neuer knew, the vse of dignitie.
Whose homely friends, did hould the ploughe of late,
Can rightly rule, the scepter of renowne?
No, honour stoupes to nature, not to fate:
Yet Fortune heaues, a thousand to estate.
As in good moode, shee did of late by mee,
Who neuer knew, the vse of dignitie.
3
As by abuse, one proofe shal well appeare,
First for my pride, my betters did mee scorne,
The poore did fawne, god wot, for very feare,
My luring life, did moue my lord to mourne,
Whose ielous sighes, foreshewed be feard the horne:
Yet wisely hee, his shrewde mistrust to show,
Usde secrete nippes, my faultes to make mee know.
First for my pride, my betters did mee scorne,
The poore did fawne, god wot, for very feare,
My luring life, did moue my lord to mourne,
Whose ielous sighes, foreshewed be feard the horne:
Yet wisely hee, his shrewde mistrust to show,
Usde secrete nippes, my faultes to make mee know.
I saw, and smilde, to see his true mistrust,
And yet in showe, I sight throwe sollen will,
As who should say, to thinke thy spouse vniust,
Thou doest her wronge, she neuer ment no ill,
She hath beene true, and so shee wilbe still,
For all his witte, thus found I out a wile,
To quenche suspect, forsoth a little while.
And yet in showe, I sight throwe sollen will,
As who should say, to thinke thy spouse vniust,
Thou doest her wronge, she neuer ment no ill,
She hath beene true, and so shee wilbe still,
For all his witte, thus found I out a wile,
To quenche suspect, forsoth a little while.
But rauening currs, their chaps can hardly hould,
When carren lies, before their hungry iawes,
The stragling kite, with chickes will sure be bould.
If once a wynge, shee spies a flight of dawes.
Soe ramping girles, regarde no modest lawes,
As profe appeares, by this my filthie flight,
I left my Lord, and stoale away by night.
When carren lies, before their hungry iawes,
The stragling kite, with chickes will sure be bould.
If once a wynge, shee spies a flight of dawes.
Soe ramping girles, regarde no modest lawes,
As profe appeares, by this my filthie flight,
I left my Lord, and stoale away by night.
Who hearing once, of this my gadding moode,
My vitall thread, vntwiste good care (quoth hee)
In fine her hate wil sure sucke out my bloode,
She loues me not, there is no third degree,
Thus ledde with feare, at large hee let mee flee,
I pinchte with neede, to praying forthwith fell,
And for my selfe, I shifted prettie well.
My vitall thread, vntwiste good care (quoth hee)
In fine her hate wil sure sucke out my bloode,
She loues me not, there is no third degree,
Thus ledde with feare, at large hee let mee flee,
I pinchte with neede, to praying forthwith fell,
And for my selfe, I shifted prettie well.
To plant my wares, in place of brauest vewe,
In Pauie towne, a stately house I tooke,
I deckte my selfe, with weedes of lightest hewe,
To lure guestes, I sparde no wanton looke,
Valperga first, was choakt, with Cupids hooke:
Hee sight, hee sobd, hee curst his sorrie chaunce,
Hee surde, hee searud, he did attendaunce daunce.
In Pauie towne, a stately house I tooke,
I deckte my selfe, with weedes of lightest hewe,
To lure guestes, I sparde no wanton looke,
Valperga first, was choakt, with Cupids hooke:
4
Hee surde, hee searud, he did attendaunce daunce.
But squemish then Bianca Maria was,
His secrete sighes with scorne she quited still.
A parle yet, at length, was brought to pas,
Where safely hee, might shew his hidden will,
With sugred wordes, he wraid his suites at fill,
His life, his death, all in my power lay,
I was so kinde to loth this Lords decay.
His secrete sighes with scorne she quited still.
A parle yet, at length, was brought to pas,
Where safely hee, might shew his hidden will,
With sugred wordes, he wraid his suites at fill,
His life, his death, all in my power lay,
I was so kinde to loth this Lords decay.
They say, the mate is apt to mischiefe still,
Whose foule offence, with countenaunce is held,
So wantons forst, with their agreeing will,
When lust assaultes, will after learne to yeald,
No fame nor shame, can make them keepe the field,
To true a proofe, appeareth by mine end:
Then sinne not, dames, in hope for to amend.
Whose foule offence, with countenaunce is held,
So wantons forst, with their agreeing will,
When lust assaultes, will after learne to yeald,
No fame nor shame, can make them keepe the field,
To true a proofe, appeareth by mine end:
Then sinne not, dames, in hope for to amend.
I showe not this, to shape mine owne excuse,
My life I lothe, to salue my fowle amisse:
But for your heed, I blase this vile abuse,
Beware, beware, of Venus beastly blisse,
It feedes the flesh, and sterues the soule I wisse,
It honour staines, it is a shrine of shame,
A bitter sweete that breadeth nought but blame.
My life I lothe, to salue my fowle amisse:
But for your heed, I blase this vile abuse,
Beware, beware, of Venus beastly blisse,
It feedes the flesh, and sterues the soule I wisse,
It honour staines, it is a shrine of shame,
A bitter sweete that breadeth nought but blame.
In mee too late, these faultes I did forsee,
Valperga so, my wanton humour fedde,
My fare was fine, I lackt no goulden glee,
The art of Loue, for exercise I redde,
And thus my life, in Venus court I ledde:
With wealth at will, I could but with and haue,
The toy I lackt, I neede not twise to craue.
Valperga so, my wanton humour fedde,
My fare was fine, I lackt no goulden glee,
The art of Loue, for exercise I redde,
And thus my life, in Venus court I ledde:
With wealth at will, I could but with and haue,
The toy I lackt, I neede not twise to craue.
And think you dames these visards yeld such sights,
As wanton girles may sighe to see their shame,
No: meekenes marres the maskes of fond delightes,
And fasting must, their frolicke bodies tame,
To Scriptures read, they must their leasure frame,
Then loath they will, both lust and wanton loue,
Be sure else, such ryggs my case shall proue.
As wanton girles may sighe to see their shame,
5
And fasting must, their frolicke bodies tame,
To Scriptures read, they must their leasure frame,
Then loath they will, both lust and wanton loue,
Be sure else, such ryggs my case shall proue.
But at my call, why did Valperga stoupe?
Why did not hee, foresee the fruites of lust?
Why did he come, at euery wanton whoope?
Why, why did hee, Bianca Maria trust?
Which to her Lord, had shewen her selfe vniust,
A man hee was, whom weakenes cannot scuse,
How could hee then, let loue him so abuse.
Why did not hee, foresee the fruites of lust?
Why did he come, at euery wanton whoope?
Why, why did hee, Bianca Maria trust?
Which to her Lord, had shewen her selfe vniust,
A man hee was, whom weakenes cannot scuse,
How could hee then, let loue him so abuse.
How could hee (ah:) Perforce I shew my shame,
As one whose tongue, a truth, will neatly tell,
I reaft his life, why slay I then his fame?
No reason why, saue I can nothing well,
For through my lure hee (wonne,) to folly fell,
If not so witcht, who list like case to proue,
Shal find, fine heads, are fraughted first with loue.
As one whose tongue, a truth, will neatly tell,
I reaft his life, why slay I then his fame?
No reason why, saue I can nothing well,
For through my lure hee (wonne,) to folly fell,
If not so witcht, who list like case to proue,
Shal find, fine heads, are fraughted first with loue.
Then sith his ioy, all in Bianca lay,
What scuse hath shee, with hate to pay his loue?
Bee not abasht, the truth in wordes to wray,
Which thou in act, vntimely late didst proue:
What sullen moode, this peeuish scorne did moue?
And am I forst, to shew the fault I shame?
Sith needes I must, Good Ladies, note the same.
What scuse hath shee, with hate to pay his loue?
Bee not abasht, the truth in wordes to wray,
Which thou in act, vntimely late didst proue:
What sullen moode, this peeuish scorne did moue?
And am I forst, to shew the fault I shame?
Sith needes I must, Good Ladies, note the same.
They say, who so with dropsie is aprayde,
The more hee drinckes, the more hee doth desire,
The greedie churle, is neuer well appayde,
Although he reape the gaine hee doth require,
So lust in rampes, is such a raging fire,
That most it heates, when most the same is drencht,
A hellish flame that neuer can be quencht.
The more hee drinckes, the more hee doth desire,
The greedie churle, is neuer well appayde,
Although he reape the gaine hee doth require,
So lust in rampes, is such a raging fire,
That most it heates, when most the same is drencht,
A hellish flame that neuer can be quencht.
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This fire in mee, was kindled first with pride,
But raysde to flame, with ease and wanton thought,
It raged so, no reason could mee guide,
My husbands sport, so small allayaunce wrought,
As him I left, for lustier laddes I sought:
Valperga then, a while supprest this fire,
But hee decayde, oor chaunge I did desire.
But raysde to flame, with ease and wanton thought,
It raged so, no reason could mee guide,
My husbands sport, so small allayaunce wrought,
As him I left, for lustier laddes I sought:
Valperga then, a while supprest this fire,
But hee decayde, oor chaunge I did desire.
Roberto Sanseuerino Erle of Giazzo, Valpergas great friend, was her second louer. The traynes that intice to loue.
Who forst mee not, his friend hee loued soe,
Hee knew I was Valpergas sole delight.
Hee scornde my winckes, my wanton loue in showe,
My priuie sighes, my wilie signes of woe,
But Spaniel like, by stripes to kindnes moude,
The more hee scornd, the more this lord I loude.
And when I sawe hee shunde inticeing baites,
Immodest rigg, I Ouids counsell vsde,
Where cleanly, I did couler shame with sleightes,
Through loue constrainde, which reason had abusde,
My penne did paint, what bashfull tongue refusde,
Which fewe suffisde, hee knew loue kept no lawe,
Hee was my ioy, of him I stoode in awe.
Immodest rigg, I Ouids counsell vsde,
Where cleanly, I did couler shame with sleightes,
Through loue constrainde, which reason had abusde,
My penne did paint, what bashfull tongue refusde,
Which fewe suffisde, hee knew loue kept no lawe,
Hee was my ioy, of him I stoode in awe.
This proferd grace, did stowpe Giazzo straight,
Hee loude his friend, but more his owne delight,
The hooke of loue, hee swallowed with the baite,
No marueile why: Biancaes beautie bright,
Her braue arraye, and shee a Countesse hight,
Would force a man, himselfe and all forgoe,
And could hee chuse, when loue was offered soe?
Hee loude his friend, but more his owne delight,
The hooke of loue, hee swallowed with the baite,
No marueile why: Biancaes beautie bright,
Her braue arraye, and shee a Countesse hight,
Would force a man, himselfe and all forgoe,
And could hee chuse, when loue was offered soe?
No: neede to runne the creeple sure will teach,
A pleasaunt pray, a theefe inticeth soone,
As foxes hate the grapes, they cannot reach,
And wilie saintes, with showes are seldome wonne,
When as assuerde, their squemishnes is donne.
Euen such a saint, Giazzo proued in fine,
Hee loude no grapes, before hee reacht the vine.
A pleasaunt pray, a theefe inticeth soone,
As foxes hate the grapes, they cannot reach,
And wilie saintes, with showes are seldome wonne,
When as assuerde, their squemishnes is donne.
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Hee loude no grapes, before hee reacht the vine.
Wel, thus at length, I won my wished ioy,
Hee came, in whome, my heart did wholy dwell,
To make him sport, Bianca was not coy,
She knew her game, and streight to daliaunce fell,
Where as this Lord behaude himselfe so well,
That loe I loath Valpergas drowsy sport,
And so with scorne I stayde his oft resort.
Hee came, in whome, my heart did wholy dwell,
To make him sport, Bianca was not coy,
She knew her game, and streight to daliaunce fell,
Where as this Lord behaude himselfe so well,
That loe I loath Valpergas drowsy sport,
And so with scorne I stayde his oft resort.
Thus reft (good soule) of her hee heald so deare,
His woonted sutes, a fresh hee put in vre,
Hee sight, hee serued, hee lookt with sorrie cheare,
But when no sute, nor seruice could procure,
My stragling loue, to stoupe vnto his lure,
By neede inforst, his dotage then hee reft,
And so with losse, my wanton pleasures left,
His woonted sutes, a fresh hee put in vre,
Hee sight, hee serued, hee lookt with sorrie cheare,
But when no sute, nor seruice could procure,
My stragling loue, to stoupe vnto his lure,
By neede inforst, his dotage then hee reft,
And so with losse, my wanton pleasures left,
When mystes of lusce, were cleared from his eyes,
Disdaine forthwith, transformd his loue to hate,
Fye on my life, and lewdnes, lowde hee cries,
Hee heaues mee vp to filthie Faustines state,
A Layis byrde, for Masseline a mate,
A filth, a flurt, a bitch of Megraes kinde,
A rigg, a rampe, and all that came to minde,
Disdaine forthwith, transformd his loue to hate,
Fye on my life, and lewdnes, lowde hee cries,
Hee heaues mee vp to filthie Faustines state,
A Layis byrde, for Masseline a mate,
A filth, a flurt, a bitch of Megraes kinde,
A rigg, a rampe, and all that came to minde,
But when I heard, my blame, hee blased thus,
Impatient I, began to stampe and stare,
To waile, to weepe, to wring my handes I wous,
To freate, to fume, to teare my golden heare,
In fine, as madd as euer was March hare,
I vowde to reaue Valperga of his life,
Which I performde (aye) me through peeuish strife.
Impatient I, began to stampe and stare,
To waile, to weepe, to wring my handes I wous,
To freate, to fume, to teare my golden heare,
In fine, as madd as euer was March hare,
I vowde to reaue Valperga of his life,
Which I performde (aye) me through peeuish strife.
While sporte was quicke, I did Giazzo moue,
To slay this Lord, in grace which whilome stoode,
But disposest, to winne his owne sweete loue,
Unciuil wretch, accoyde through sullen moode,
Hee blasde mee forth, as byrde of Layis broode,
Leaue off (quoth hee) I loth thy heauie cheere,
Valpergas tongue, shall buy this bable deare.
To slay this Lord, in grace which whilome stoode,
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Unciuil wretch, accoyde through sullen moode,
Hee blasde mee forth, as byrde of Layis broode,
Leaue off (quoth hee) I loth thy heauie cheere,
Valpergas tongue, shall buy this bable deare.
With which suffisde, I fell to kisses straight,
And shewde my selfe, more gamesome then of yore,
To tyce him on, I laide this wanton baite,
But hee which long, Valperga held in store,
Within his heart, my hatred did abhore:
Yet nay the lesse, my loue hee so did like.
As still hee said, hee stayde for time to strike.
And shewde my selfe, more gamesome then of yore,
To tyce him on, I laide this wanton baite,
But hee which long, Valperga held in store,
Within his heart, my hatred did abhore:
Yet nay the lesse, my loue hee so did like.
As still hee said, hee stayde for time to strike.
But when I found, what fine delayes hee vsde,
All sweld, with wrath (quoth I) the prouerbe saith:
Proferde seruice, is euer more refusde,
And offerde loue, is quited syld with faith,
Without the hooke, the baite no poyson hath,
Yet haplie hee, for all his wiles may proue,
My peeuish hate, oore wayes my passing loue.
All sweld, with wrath (quoth I) the prouerbe saith:
Proferde seruice, is euer more refusde,
And offerde loue, is quited syld with faith,
Without the hooke, the baite no poyson hath,
Yet haplie hee, for all his wiles may proue,
My peeuish hate, oore wayes my passing loue.
And in disdaine, the secrete gates I bard,
Where in and out, Giazzo earst did goe,
I tould him plaine, his market cleane was mard,
I ment my faultes, vnto my lord to showe,
If which suffisde, I would no more do so,
To faine with chaunge, I did Giazzo pray,
With kindnes showne, contented for to stay.
Where in and out, Giazzo earst did goe,
I tould him plaine, his market cleane was mard,
I ment my faultes, vnto my lord to showe,
If which suffisde, I would no more do so,
To faine with chaunge, I did Giazzo pray,
With kindnes showne, contented for to stay.
Nigh tyred hee, my greedie lust to glut,
Full wel appayde, for trueth my faynings tooke,
Hee tooke no heede, how often times is shut
In sugred baite, a fowle and filthie hooke,
How hate is hidde full oft, with friendly looke,
Ne how the lewde, when grace is not their stay,
Refuse no meane, to worke their foes decay.
Full wel appayde, for trueth my faynings tooke,
Hee tooke no heede, how often times is shut
In sugred baite, a fowle and filthie hooke,
How hate is hidde full oft, with friendly looke,
Ne how the lewde, when grace is not their stay,
Refuse no meane, to worke their foes decay.
9
Euen such a filth I (forst) confesse I was,
I vsde this showe, to chase my foes mistrust,
Thereby to worke his fatall ende (alas)
When least hee thought, I would haue beene vniust,
Such cankered hate, my murdrous heart did rust,
Unto which ende, I for Valperga send,
With yll, for good, to quite his faithful frend.
I vsde this showe, to chase my foes mistrust,
Thereby to worke his fatall ende (alas)
When least hee thought, I would haue beene vniust,
Such cankered hate, my murdrous heart did rust,
Unto which ende, I for Valperga send,
With yll, for good, to quite his faithful frend.
I knew the force, of new reuiued loue,
Now peeuish hate, more perfect made the same,
I likewise knew, newe friendship how to moue,
With pleasaunt lookes, y mixt with pretie blame,
I checkt him first, for foyling of my fame,
Perdona moy, ore showes againe with viewe,
Deare dame (quoth hee) I yeld, your tale is true.
Now peeuish hate, more perfect made the same,
I likewise knew, newe friendship how to moue,
With pleasaunt lookes, y mixt with pretie blame,
I checkt him first, for foyling of my fame,
Perdona moy, ore showes againe with viewe,
Deare dame (quoth hee) I yeld, your tale is true.
Euen so (quoth I) and smiling vsde these wordes,
Confessed crimes, doth open penaunce chuse,
What plague you please (quoth hee) your thrall accordes,
That hee or you, shall execution vse,
Such power (quoth I) I meane not to refuse,
Yet hoping that, those faultes you will amende,
I pardon all, and take you for my frende.
Confessed crimes, doth open penaunce chuse,
What plague you please (quoth hee) your thrall accordes,
That hee or you, shall execution vse,
Such power (quoth I) I meane not to refuse,
Yet hoping that, those faultes you will amende,
I pardon all, and take you for my frende.
And when I sawe him eager of delight,
A sighe I fetcht, and did Giazzo name,
Valperga said, Giazzo to his might,
Was sure his friend (quoth I) I thinke in name,
But (ah) his deedes, will neuer proue the same,
And though I, loth, to sowe seditious strife,
Yet needes I must, for safegard of thy life.
A sighe I fetcht, and did Giazzo name,
Valperga said, Giazzo to his might,
Was sure his friend (quoth I) I thinke in name,
But (ah) his deedes, will neuer proue the same,
And though I, loth, to sowe seditious strife,
Yet needes I must, for safegard of thy life.
In sooth (sweete friend) thy daungerous state I rew,
This trayterous mate, to moue thine ouerthrowe,
By guile God wot, with mee in frendship grew,
Betwixt vs friends, he first did hatred sowe,
Hee forged faultes, to keepe mee still thy foe,
And yet my heart, for al that hee could say,
Did loue thee well, although my tongue said nay.
This trayterous mate, to moue thine ouerthrowe,
By guile God wot, with mee in frendship grew,
Betwixt vs friends, he first did hatred sowe,
Hee forged faultes, to keepe mee still thy foe,
10
Did loue thee well, although my tongue said nay.
Which when hee smeld puft vp with furie straight,
Hee vowde thy death for robbing of his ioy,
Which bloudie wordes, did force mee to vnfraight,
This bitter speach: Auawnt thou peeuish boy,
Thy filthy sight, Bianca doth annoy.
Beleeue mee, Lord, this tale is very true,
Beginne with him, before hee do with you.
Hee vowde thy death for robbing of his ioy,
Which bloudie wordes, did force mee to vnfraight,
This bitter speach: Auawnt thou peeuish boy,
Thy filthy sight, Bianca doth annoy.
Beleeue mee, Lord, this tale is very true,
Beginne with him, before hee do with you.
These forced wordes, did rayse a soare mistrust,
Or haply else Giazzo might a smoakte,
But yet hee vowde, to feede my filthie lust,
With bloudie blade, his trayterous breath to choake,
And leaue hee toke, hee said to strike this stroake,
But loe hee went forthwith to Mantua,
Unto his friend, these secretes to bewray,
Or haply else Giazzo might a smoakte,
But yet hee vowde, to feede my filthie lust,
With bloudie blade, his trayterous breath to choake,
And leaue hee toke, hee said to strike this stroake,
But loe hee went forthwith to Mantua,
Unto his friend, these secretes to bewray,
Which treason when Giazzo vnderstoode,
Who can auoyde (quoth hee) a strompets hate?
And thundring out, the stormes of furious moode,
With tearmes of scorne, hee did Bianca rate,
Out filth (quoth hee) twixt friends which sowes debate,
And in despight, a libel hee inuents,
Which (Lords) to you, Bianca here presents.
Who can auoyde (quoth hee) a strompets hate?
And thundring out, the stormes of furious moode,
With tearmes of scorne, hee did Bianca rate,
Out filth (quoth hee) twixt friends which sowes debate,
And in despight, a libel hee inuents,
Which (Lords) to you, Bianca here presents.
An Inuectiue written by Roberto Sanseuerino, Earle of Giazzo, against Bianca Maria, Countesse of Celant.
Who
euer sawe, a thorne sweete grapes to yeeld?
Or sower slowes, vppon a vine to growe?
Who euer heard, a coward first in feeld?
The foreward wight, soonste feard with sight of foe?
Who euer knew, in time of any minde?
Good fall to bad, or kitt to flee from kinde?
Or sower slowes, vppon a vine to growe?
Who euer heard, a coward first in feeld?
The foreward wight, soonste feard with sight of foe?
11
Good fall to bad, or kitt to flee from kinde?
If proofe ne peares, who may Bianca blame?
Whose father rose, to wealth by filthie fraude,
Her mothers life, y shrinde with endles shame,
Whose grandam was, in drowping dayes a bawd:
Shee onely left, of all this beastly store,
Must needes be worse, then parents were before.
Whose father rose, to wealth by filthie fraude,
Her mothers life, y shrinde with endles shame,
Whose grandam was, in drowping dayes a bawd:
Shee onely left, of all this beastly store,
Must needes be worse, then parents were before.
What marueile then, if shee did flee by night,
And sent a horne, vnto her Lord and fere,
To blow the death, of all his braue delight,
That gadding moode, shee learned of sa mere,
Who lightly vailde, at ery wanton whoope,
How could shee then, but to Valperga stoope?
And sent a horne, vnto her Lord and fere,
To blow the death, of all his braue delight,
That gadding moode, shee learned of sa mere,
Who lightly vailde, at ery wanton whoope,
How could shee then, but to Valperga stoope?
Ne can shee chuse, but proue the Prouerbe true,
(Won with a word, and lost with one yll looke)
Giazzo knowes, Bianca seekes for newe,
Hee whilome was, a vowell in her booke,
Giazzo wrought, Valperga out of grace,
Giazzo scornd, Valperga hath his place.
(Won with a word, and lost with one yll looke)
Giazzo knowes, Bianca seekes for newe,
Hee whilome was, a vowell in her booke,
Giazzo wrought, Valperga out of grace,
Giazzo scornd, Valperga hath his place.
Yet both in lashe, at length this cressed leaues,
And Megra like, pursues their loue with hate,
Such is the fruite, of ruffians, roages, and theeues,
Which framde her heart, when shee was formde by fate,
Her fathers liue (Scappardone being dead)
And diuers seedes, doth diuers natures breede.
And Megra like, pursues their loue with hate,
Such is the fruite, of ruffians, roages, and theeues,
Which framde her heart, when shee was formde by fate,
Her fathers liue (Scappardone being dead)
And diuers seedes, doth diuers natures breede.
(O happie man) Giazzo scornes her loue,
(Valperga blest) that knowes her murdrous minde,
Wee haue ynough, her truth let others proue,
And rest content, with what wee left behinde,
We suckte the sweete, let others drinke the draffe,
Wee eate the corne, what skilles, who chewes the chaffe.
(Valperga blest) that knowes her murdrous minde,
Wee haue ynough, her truth let others proue,
And rest content, with what wee left behinde,
We suckte the sweete, let others drinke the draffe,
Wee eate the corne, what skilles, who chewes the chaffe.
12
The Countesse of Zeland, continueth in her complaint.
Now
gallants iudge, if it with honour stands
For any Lord, a Lady thus to rate,
Or blase with scorne, their pleasure at her hands,
If it ne grees, with glory of their state,
Helpe to excuse Biancas deadly hate,
Who now beginnes, such bloudy newes to blase,
As endlesse shame, her infamie will raise.
For any Lord, a Lady thus to rate,
Or blase with scorne, their pleasure at her hands,
If it ne grees, with glory of their state,
Helpe to excuse Biancas deadly hate,
Who now beginnes, such bloudy newes to blase,
As endlesse shame, her infamie will raise.
Or giue her leaue, to vse what cloake she may,
For once report, wil much inlarge her misse,
In womens moodes, there is no meane they say,
They (scorned) loue, so huge their liking is,
Of force as great, their hate must be ywis,
What folly then Giazzos mynd did blame,
To think my wrath, would ceasse through open shame.
For once report, wil much inlarge her misse,
In womens moodes, there is no meane they say,
They (scorned) loue, so huge their liking is,
Of force as great, their hate must be ywis,
What folly then Giazzos mynd did blame,
To think my wrath, would ceasse through open shame.
How could he wene, my friendship for to force,
By ringing out the lewdnesse of my life?
Sith shame compelles the bad, to fall to worse,
Where discord is, new wrong increaseth strife.
Reuenge is sought, where iniuries are rife,
Wast then the way, to reaue my wrangling hate,
Inuectiues vile to set vpp on my gate.
By ringing out the lewdnesse of my life?
Sith shame compelles the bad, to fall to worse,
Where discord is, new wrong increaseth strife.
Reuenge is sought, where iniuries are rife,
Wast then the way, to reaue my wrangling hate,
Inuectiues vile to set vpp on my gate.
O, no, God wot, my mightie litle hart,
Was well nye burst, my blame was blased so,
These rymes I soung, with notes of musickes art,
Bianca namde, in euery wanton shew,
Constraind me wretch, from Pauie for to go,
To Mantua then, I did my iourney take,
Where open house, I kept for credits sake.
Was well nye burst, my blame was blased so,
These rymes I soung, with notes of musickes art,
Bianca namde, in euery wanton shew,
Constraind me wretch, from Pauie for to go,
To Mantua then, I did my iourney take,
Where open house, I kept for credits sake.
And placed there according to my will,
With bloudie hate my murdrous hart was bent,
Giazzo Lord, Valperga eake to kill,
A thousande feates of murder, I inuent:
As many feares my purpose did preuent:
I loth, yet would, and willing, stoode in awe,
Such brunts they byde that venter breach of lawe.
With bloudie hate my murdrous hart was bent,
Giazzo Lord, Valperga eake to kill,
13
As many feares my purpose did preuent:
I loth, yet would, and willing, stoode in awe,
Such brunts they byde that venter breach of lawe.
Till vice, vertue hath vanquisht in the feeld,
Then reason, lawe, rule, feare, and all adew,
Their minds, their harts, to nought but folly yeeld,
In spoile, they sport, they laugh at mischiefes new:
The proofe of which, alas, to late I rewe,
For when my feare, my furie put to flight,
I liuing dyde, till I had wrought my spight.
Then reason, lawe, rule, feare, and all adew,
Their minds, their harts, to nought but folly yeeld,
In spoile, they sport, they laugh at mischiefes new:
The proofe of which, alas, to late I rewe,
For when my feare, my furie put to flight,
I liuing dyde, till I had wrought my spight.
And sith this acte to doe, my minde did mase,
This traine I laide, to tyce a trustie frend:
In place of vene I gallants gaue the gase,
Their bonets vaild, Bianca streight did bend,
Through friendly showe, a bon iour for to send,
To parle oft, I did my selfe apply,
Before I trust, by talke each youth to try.
This traine I laide, to tyce a trustie frend:
In place of vene I gallants gaue the gase,
Their bonets vaild, Bianca streight did bend,
Through friendly showe, a bon iour for to send,
To parle oft, I did my selfe apply,
Before I trust, by talke each youth to try.
In making loue, they prettie prattle vsde,
But nought it vaild, to hault before the lame,
For I of yore, with wylie woordes abusde,
As children brent doe after dread the flame,
At sugred speache, I made a sporting game,
But ah (ay mee) to worke mine ouerthrow,
Untimely came, to Mantua dom Pietro.
But nought it vaild, to hault before the lame,
For I of yore, with wylie woordes abusde,
As children brent doe after dread the flame,
At sugred speache, I made a sporting game,
But ah (ay mee) to worke mine ouerthrow,
Untimely came, to Mantua dom Pietro.
This capitaine stoute, went flaunting too and fro,
Till loe (ill lucke) mee wretched, hee espyes,
My gallant port, beseemde a countesse show,
My beautie then, my braue arraye hee eyes,
While blinded loue into his fancie flyes,
And stryuing (hee) doth cause his fire increase,
Thus warres he founde, when most hee hoapte of peace.
Till loe (ill lucke) mee wretched, hee espyes,
My gallant port, beseemde a countesse show,
My beautie then, my braue arraye hee eyes,
While blinded loue into his fancie flyes,
And stryuing (hee) doth cause his fire increase,
Thus warres he founde, when most hee hoapte of peace.
14
Unarmed yet, to match with Cupids force,
With Conges kinde, hee wrayde his louing moode,
Next sighes he sends, to moue mee to remorse,
Then paintes his pen, thus straunge his fancies stoode,
My yea would saue, my nay should shead his blood,
Quicke aunsweare make, Dom Pietro hath decreede,
To liue in ioy, or else to die with speede.
With Conges kinde, hee wrayde his louing moode,
Next sighes he sends, to moue mee to remorse,
Then paintes his pen, thus straunge his fancies stoode,
My yea would saue, my nay should shead his blood,
Quicke aunsweare make, Dom Pietro hath decreede,
To liue in ioy, or else to die with speede.
These lines receiude, I spyed my nouis heate,
Who lookt and lackt, the recompence of loue,
Which scorne in mee, did cause him more to sweate,
Hee sight, I smilde, his ioy, my noy, did moue,
Which thwarting showes (past hope) inforst him proue
If that his lute soone might (his passions showne)
Could force his sweete, his hard mishap to mone,
Who lookt and lackt, the recompence of loue,
Which scorne in mee, did cause him more to sweate,
Hee sight, I smilde, his ioy, my noy, did moue,
Which thwarting showes (past hope) inforst him proue
If that his lute soone might (his passions showne)
Could force his sweete, his hard mishap to mone,
But when I sawe, his loue did still increase,
As hee one night, lamenting layes did yell,
My gates were ope, in signe and show of peace,
In came this Lord, in minde his griefe to tell,
But loe abashte, he first to blushing fell,
In chamber frayes, of both my selfe the best
This onset gaue, to cheare my chosen guest.
As hee one night, lamenting layes did yell,
My gates were ope, in signe and show of peace,
In came this Lord, in minde his griefe to tell,
But loe abashte, he first to blushing fell,
In chamber frayes, of both my selfe the best
This onset gaue, to cheare my chosen guest.
Biancas breach, of chaste and modest lawe,
May seeme full straunge, to you my louing Lord,
To ope my gates, to one I neuer sawe,
When knowen friends, so falsifie their word,
Dread not (quoth he) Dom Pietro doth accord:
From sorrowes free, yet free Biancas slaue,
To like but what, his loue, desires to haue.
May seeme full straunge, to you my louing Lord,
To ope my gates, to one I neuer sawe,
When knowen friends, so falsifie their word,
Dread not (quoth he) Dom Pietro doth accord:
From sorrowes free, yet free Biancas slaue,
To like but what, his loue, desires to haue.
I aunsweard soone, with sugred showes full ofte,
Such Lords as you, faire Ladies still beguiles,
But suites obtainde, they sillie soules are scofte,
Then choice, in chaunge, your loue, and faith, exiles,
Not so, in mee (quoth hee) I want such wiles,
For proofe, commaund, what seruice pleaseth you,
The which performde, then thinke Dom Pietro true.
Such Lords as you, faire Ladies still beguiles,
But suites obtainde, they sillie soules are scofte,
Then choice, in chaunge, your loue, and faith, exiles,
Not so, in mee (quoth hee) I want such wiles,
15
The which performde, then thinke Dom Pietro true.
In hoape (quoth I) your wordes and deedes are one,
I first will trust, your faith, then after taste,
To quite your loue, Bianca is your owne,
Dom Pietro straight did execution haste,
And bashfull earst, his best beloude imbraste,
With sugred wiles, I so this gallant wrought,
As sure I was, a Goddesse in his thought.
I first will trust, your faith, then after taste,
To quite your loue, Bianca is your owne,
Dom Pietro straight did execution haste,
And bashfull earst, his best beloude imbraste,
With sugred wiles, I so this gallant wrought,
As sure I was, a Goddesse in his thought.
Assurde of which, to sawce his sweetest sport,
A sighe I fetcht, and squemish faynde to bee,
Woe worth (quoth I) Giazzo lewde report,
Valpergas scorne, two Earles of hie degree,
Their traytrous tongues, so sore haue slaundred mee,
That death I wish, but destnie will not soe,
And they triumph, that wrought my timelesse woe.
A sighe I fetcht, and squemish faynde to bee,
Woe worth (quoth I) Giazzo lewde report,
Valpergas scorne, two Earles of hie degree,
Their traytrous tongues, so sore haue slaundred mee,
That death I wish, but destnie will not soe,
And they triumph, that wrought my timelesse woe.
Dom Pietro then, did bluster forth this speach,
(Ah) verlets vile, from natures lawe which swerue,
Ere longe I sure, your traytrous tongues will teach,
To slaunder her, whom duetie wills you serue,
And then hee vowde, with speede their flesh to carue:
Soone shall they proue (quoth hee) if I doe faine,
And you shall see, if deedes and woordes are twaine.
(Ah) verlets vile, from natures lawe which swerue,
Ere longe I sure, your traytrous tongues will teach,
To slaunder her, whom duetie wills you serue,
And then hee vowde, with speede their flesh to carue:
Soone shall they proue (quoth hee) if I doe faine,
And you shall see, if deedes and woordes are twaine.
I glad of which, yet sad I seemde in showe,
And sighing said, looke to your selfe, my sweete,
Your hurt, my death, in hart I loue you soe,
Which friendly wordes, his furie more did heate,
Fare well (quoth hee) till I haue wrought this feate,
This hand and blade, their babling tōgues shal worme:
Which wordes with deedes, he (cruel) did performe.
And sighing said, looke to your selfe, my sweete,
Your hurt, my death, in hart I loue you soe,
Which friendly wordes, his furie more did heate,
Fare well (quoth hee) till I haue wrought this feate,
This hand and blade, their babling tōgues shal worme:
Which wordes with deedes, he (cruel) did performe.
For loe one night, hee did forestaule their way,
But weaklie armde, Valperga was intrapte,
Giazzo blest, was absent at this fray,
Oore wayde, with force, Valperga was intrapt,
That (ah) his death, vntimely there hee rapt,
Who dying cryde, Dom Pietro did the deede,
Streight, hew and crie, to search him out doth speede.
But weaklie armde, Valperga was intrapte,
16
Oore wayde, with force, Valperga was intrapt,
That (ah) his death, vntimely there hee rapt,
Who dying cryde, Dom Pietro did the deede,
Streight, hew and crie, to search him out doth speede.
Hee found, forthwith, vnto the Duke was brought,
And paintes at large, my loue, and lothsome hate,
The suite of friendes, in grace, Dom Pietro wrought,
To salue my misse, repentaunce came to late:
Good Ladies yet, note well my fall, and fate,
My wealth, my weades, my sweete delights to shoe,
Intice, not warne, without the sauce of woe.
And paintes at large, my loue, and lothsome hate,
The suite of friendes, in grace, Dom Pietro wrought,
To salue my misse, repentaunce came to late:
Good Ladies yet, note well my fall, and fate,
My wealth, my weades, my sweete delights to shoe,
Intice, not warne, without the sauce of woe.
But listen well, vnto my filthie fall,
Payse, blisse with bale, sweete life with sower end,
And you shall finde, my ioy oore wayde with thrall,
Of freedome reft, in prison closely pend,
Distrest, vnhelpt, forsooke of kinne and frend,
Yea, more then straying, so fowle my follies ware,
As gould, ne vayld, to cleare my clowdes of scare.
Payse, blisse with bale, sweete life with sower end,
And you shall finde, my ioy oore wayde with thrall,
Of freedome reft, in prison closely pend,
Distrest, vnhelpt, forsooke of kinne and frend,
Yea, more then straying, so fowle my follies ware,
As gould, ne vayld, to cleare my clowdes of scare.
Ne could I (wretch) take well in worth my woe,
My former sweete, did so increase my sowre,
My homely cheare, my costly cates did show,
My prison vile, of yore, my princely bowre,
My laughing friends, by foes that then did lowre,
Controwld and scornde, who thousands did commaunde,
Once craue and haue, denyde now eche demaunde.
My former sweete, did so increase my sowre,
My homely cheare, my costly cates did show,
My prison vile, of yore, my princely bowre,
My laughing friends, by foes that then did lowre,
Controwld and scornde, who thousands did commaunde,
Once craue and haue, denyde now eche demaunde.
My lothsome couche, presenteth to my vewe,
My beds of doune: with thought of sweete delights,
Thus day and night, my wilfull harme I rewe:
Ech thought of grace, my conscience guilt affrights,
Yet (loth to die) against repentaunce fightes,
Till due desert, by lawe and Iustice lead,
Did dome my misse, with tosse of my poore head.
My beds of doune: with thought of sweete delights,
Thus day and night, my wilfull harme I rewe:
Ech thought of grace, my conscience guilt affrights,
Yet (loth to die) against repentaunce fightes,
Till due desert, by lawe and Iustice lead,
Did dome my misse, with tosse of my poore head.
17
The which in place, I ready am to pay,
Acknowledging, my faultes before you all,
God graunt my life with such effect you way,
As you may be forewarned by my fall.
Of lawlesse loue, the end is bitter gall:
I now haue sayd, and for their witnesse crye,
How so I liude, I do repentant dye.
Acknowledging, my faultes before you all,
God graunt my life with such effect you way,
As you may be forewarned by my fall.
Of lawlesse loue, the end is bitter gall:
I now haue sayd, and for their witnesse crye,
How so I liude, I do repentant dye.
18
Cressids complaint.
The Argument, for Cressids complaint.
The inconstancie of Cressid, is so readie in euery mans mouth, as it is a needelesse labour, to blase at full her abuse towardes yong Troilus, her frowning on Syr Diomede, her wanton lures and loue, neuerthelesse, her companie scorned, of thousandes sometimes sought, her beggerie after brauerie, her lothsome leprosie, after liuely beautie, her wretched age, after wanton youth, and her perpetuall infamie, after violent death, are worthy notes (for others heede) to be remembred. And for as much as Cressids heires in euery corner liue, yea more cunning then Cressid her selfe, in wanton exercises, toyes, and inticements: to forewarne all men of such filthes, to persuade the infected, to fall from their follies, & to rayse a feare in dames vntainted to offend, I haue reported the subtile sleites, the leaud life, and euill fortunes of a Courtisane, in Cressid: name, whom you may suppose, in tattered weedes, halfe hungerstarued, miserably arrayde, with scabs, leprosie, and mayngie, to complaine as followeth.
You
ramping gyrles, which rage with wanton lust,
Beholde in me, the bitter bloumes of chaunge.
Forworne with woe, who wallowes in the dust,
And lepre like, is double mayld with maynge,
For my desart, this fortune is not straunge,
Disdaine my life, but listen to my mone,
Without good heede, the hap may be your owne.
Beholde in me, the bitter bloumes of chaunge.
Forworne with woe, who wallowes in the dust,
And lepre like, is double mayld with maynge,
For my desart, this fortune is not straunge,
Disdaine my life, but listen to my mone,
Without good heede, the hap may be your owne.
Though now I am, anoynted with annoy,
My hyde bepatcht, with scabs of sundry hewe,
I sometime was, the star of stately Troy,
With beautie blist, my venes as Azures blewe,
No fault in me, but that I was vntrue,
In Priams court, who did not Cressid like,
In lue of loue, who gaue she not the gleake.
My hyde bepatcht, with scabs of sundry hewe,
I sometime was, the star of stately Troy,
With beautie blist, my venes as Azures blewe,
No fault in me, but that I was vntrue,
In Priams court, who did not Cressid like,
In lue of loue, who gaue she not the gleake.
Where I was lou'd, I seemed alwayes straunge,
Where litle waide, I won with gleames of grace,
My gadding mynd, had such delight in chaunge,
As seldome twice, the best I did imbrace,
And once beguild, with beautie of my face,
With ebbes of griefe, did fall his flouds of ioy,
He su'd and seru'd, but Cressid then was coy.
Where litle waide, I won with gleames of grace,
My gadding mynd, had such delight in chaunge,
As seldome twice, the best I did imbrace,
And once beguild, with beautie of my face,
With ebbes of griefe, did fall his flouds of ioy,
He su'd and seru'd, but Cressid then was coy.
I did intice, king Priams sonnes to loue,
And did repine, the poorest, should go free,
My thralls for grace, a thousand wayes did proue,
On whom I smyld, a happie man was he,
The wisest wits, were thus bewitcht by me,
But as the hawke, in mewe, at randome liues,
Yet diet keepes her gorge, as seldome greues.
And did repine, the poorest, should go free,
My thralls for grace, a thousand wayes did proue,
On whom I smyld, a happie man was he,
The wisest wits, were thus bewitcht by me,
But as the hawke, in mewe, at randome liues,
Yet diet keepes her gorge, as seldome greues.
So I that liude, with store of foode at large,
When hunger pincht, on lustie youthes I prayd,
If boystrous lads, my gorge did ouercharge,
For tyring meate, the deintie boyes were wayde,
Thus with a meane, my prime of pride was staide,
Then was I faire, my traine with oyle was strickt
My feathers freshe, were dayly prunde and prickt.
When hunger pincht, on lustie youthes I prayd,
19
For tyring meate, the deintie boyes were wayde,
Thus with a meane, my prime of pride was staide,
Then was I faire, my traine with oyle was strickt
My feathers freshe, were dayly prunde and prickt.
No toy, no gaude, ne straunge deuise I see,
Though not the first, the same I second had,
Glad was the youth, that fastned ought on me,
Of braue array, in chaunge, I still was clad,
My cost to see, the courtly dames were mad,
They did repine, the peeres should Cressid loue,
When rascals, scarce, to them did liking moue.
Though not the first, the same I second had,
Glad was the youth, that fastned ought on me,
Of braue array, in chaunge, I still was clad,
My cost to see, the courtly dames were mad,
They did repine, the peeres should Cressid loue,
When rascals, scarce, to them did liking moue.
Such fancies straunge, were figurd in my face,
As few there were, but my good will did moue,
I traind them on, with outward shew of grace.
My garter one, another had my gloue,
My colours all, did weare in fine of loue,
But where in hart, I lou'd and liked best,
He euer wore the spoyle of all the rest.
As few there were, but my good will did moue,
I traind them on, with outward shew of grace.
My garter one, another had my gloue,
My colours all, did weare in fine of loue,
But where in hart, I lou'd and liked best,
He euer wore the spoyle of all the rest.
Syr Diomede got, both brooch, and belt of cost,
The which in right, to Troilus belongs,
An eyesore sure, to him that lou'd me most,
Who might repine, but not reuenge his wrongs,
Least notes of hope, were turnd to desperate songs,
The rest did loue, as courtiers do in showe:
But he good soule, did pine away with woe.
The which in right, to Troilus belongs,
An eyesore sure, to him that lou'd me most,
Who might repine, but not reuenge his wrongs,
Least notes of hope, were turnd to desperate songs,
The rest did loue, as courtiers do in showe:
But he good soule, did pine away with woe.
Yet cruell I, did smile to see his smart,
Who somtime warmd, his woes with slender hap,
Which freesd againe, with frownings ouerthwart,
And when with ioy, he pratled in my lap,
With peeuish speach, I would his pleasures snap,
For wronging whom, the Troians did me paint,
In hart a fiend, in face and forme a Saint.
Who somtime warmd, his woes with slender hap,
Which freesd againe, with frownings ouerthwart,
And when with ioy, he pratled in my lap,
With peeuish speach, I would his pleasures snap,
For wronging whom, the Troians did me paint,
In hart a fiend, in face and forme a Saint.
20
Then iudge you may, my beautie bare great sway,
Which thus inthrawld, by loue a Princes sonne,
My state no lesse, that durst his sutes denay,
A world it was, to heare what praise I wonne,
A wonder, more, how soone my pride was donne,
My forme did fade, my beautie prou'd a blase,
Or as a toy, which forced fooles to gase.
Which thus inthrawld, by loue a Princes sonne,
My state no lesse, that durst his sutes denay,
A world it was, to heare what praise I wonne,
A wonder, more, how soone my pride was donne,
My forme did fade, my beautie prou'd a blase,
Or as a toy, which forced fooles to gase.
Declining yet, I had a present shift,
A painted face, did please a gasinge eye,
But surfled stuffe, prou'd no induring drift,
My slibber sauce, when wanton girles espie,
With open mouth, the same in court they cry:
Poore Cressid then no sooner came in place,
But fortie frumpes, were framed by her face.
A painted face, did please a gasinge eye,
But surfled stuffe, prou'd no induring drift,
My slibber sauce, when wanton girles espie,
With open mouth, the same in court they cry:
Poore Cressid then no sooner came in place,
But fortie frumpes, were framed by her face.
Some said that I a passing picture drue,
Some would haue drawen, the figure of a sot,
The crabtreeface, would haue mee mend his hue,
Some in my cheeke, did faine to cleare a spot,
And all to rub my starche away, god wot,
If messellike, my painting so they pilde,
They smylde and said, my silke no colour hilde.
Some would haue drawen, the figure of a sot,
The crabtreeface, would haue mee mend his hue,
Some in my cheeke, did faine to cleare a spot,
And all to rub my starche away, god wot,
If messellike, my painting so they pilde,
They smylde and said, my silke no colour hilde.
My selfe did laugh, to see my painting clearde,
The straung defects, that withered age did bring,
A horseface then, a tawnie hyde appearde,
A wrinkled mumpes, a foule mishapen thing,
A sea of hate, where liuely loue did spring,
Thus beauties beames, to clowdes of scorne to chaunge
So soone, mee thought was sure a myrrour straunge.
The straung defects, that withered age did bring,
A horseface then, a tawnie hyde appearde,
A wrinkled mumpes, a foule mishapen thing,
A sea of hate, where liuely loue did spring,
Thus beauties beames, to clowdes of scorne to chaunge
So soone, mee thought was sure a myrrour straunge.
Yet so I preast, amid the Courtly crew,
Who once espyde, a fresh the sport begon,
Some said I lookt, now of a passing hew,
A scarfe some cryde, to keepe goodface from sunne,
Thus was I scornd, when youthful pride was don,
Some wild me learne, anew my A.B.C..
With backward reade, from H. to skip to B.
Who once espyde, a fresh the sport begon,
Some said I lookt, now of a passing hew,
A scarfe some cryde, to keepe goodface from sunne,
Thus was I scornd, when youthful pride was don,
21
With backward reade, from H. to skip to B.
But as the Hawke to gad, which knowes the way,
Will hardly leaue, to cheake at carren crowes,
If long vnserude, she waites and wants her pray:
Or as the horse, in whom disorder growes,
His iadish trickes, againe wil hardly loose:
So they in youth, which Venus ioyes do proue,
In drouping age, Syr Chaucers iestes will loue.
Will hardly leaue, to cheake at carren crowes,
If long vnserude, she waites and wants her pray:
Or as the horse, in whom disorder growes,
His iadish trickes, againe wil hardly loose:
So they in youth, which Venus ioyes do proue,
In drouping age, Syr Chaucers iestes will loue.
My self for profe, whē wanton yeres were worne,
When lookes could yeald, no loue, but lothsome hate,
When in my face appeard the forme of scorne,
Whē lust for shame, with me might sound debate,
Although I did turne tayle to foules of state,
At vauntage yet, with baser byrdes I met,
On kytes I prayde, till I could partridge get.
When lookes could yeald, no loue, but lothsome hate,
When in my face appeard the forme of scorne,
Whē lust for shame, with me might sound debate,
Although I did turne tayle to foules of state,
At vauntage yet, with baser byrdes I met,
On kytes I prayde, till I could partridge get.
But I so long, on carren crowes did pray,
My poysoned bloud, in colour waxed pale,
In natures ayde, myne age had wrought decay:
Now listen rampes, for here begins my tale,
Before my blysse, but now I blase my bale,
For Physickes arte, my surffets can not cure
Bound so perforce, the worst I must indure.
My poysoned bloud, in colour waxed pale,
In natures ayde, myne age had wrought decay:
Now listen rampes, for here begins my tale,
Before my blysse, but now I blase my bale,
For Physickes arte, my surffets can not cure
Bound so perforce, the worst I must indure.
In seeking sport, my haire did shed in test,
A sorrie ioy to ceaselesse sorrowe plight,
French feauers now, in me can take no rest,
From bones to flesh, from flesh in open sight,
With grinckcomes grease, beholde a monstrous wight,
My louers olde, with (fawth) their browes doth bend,
Of Cressids lust, loe here the lothsome end.
A sorrie ioy to ceaselesse sorrowe plight,
French feauers now, in me can take no rest,
From bones to flesh, from flesh in open sight,
With grinckcomes grease, beholde a monstrous wight,
My louers olde, with (fawth) their browes doth bend,
Of Cressids lust, loe here the lothsome end.
Glad is she now a browne breade crust to gnawe,
Who deintie once, on finest cates did frowne,
To couch vpon soft seames, a pad of straw,
Where halfe mislikt, were stately beds of downe,
By neede enforst, she begs on euery clowne,
On whom but late, the best would gifts bestow,
But squemish then, God dyld ye she sayd no.
Who deintie once, on finest cates did frowne,
22
Where halfe mislikt, were stately beds of downe,
By neede enforst, she begs on euery clowne,
On whom but late, the best would gifts bestow,
But squemish then, God dyld ye she sayd no.
From top of state, to tumble thus to thrall,
Too froward sure, dame Fortune was in this,
But highest trees, in fine haue hardest fall,
A merrie meane, her parciall hand doth misse,
She pines wt paine, or bathes her thralles in blisse,
Best therfore then, for to withstand her might,
With sword of fame, in Uertues band to fight.
Too froward sure, dame Fortune was in this,
But highest trees, in fine haue hardest fall,
A merrie meane, her parciall hand doth misse,
She pines wt paine, or bathes her thralles in blisse,
Best therfore then, for to withstand her might,
With sword of fame, in Uertues band to fight.
But (ah) in vaine, I frame excuse by fate,
When due desart, doth worke my ouerthrow,
Ne was I first by Fortune stauld in state,
My roome by byrth, did high renoune bestow,
Though wicked life, hath wrapt me now in woe,
A warning faire, a myrrour full of mone,
For gadding gyrles, a bone to gnaw vpon.
When due desart, doth worke my ouerthrow,
Ne was I first by Fortune stauld in state,
My roome by byrth, did high renoune bestow,
Though wicked life, hath wrapt me now in woe,
A warning faire, a myrrour full of mone,
For gadding gyrles, a bone to gnaw vpon.
Take heede in time, least Had I wist you rew,
And thus perforce, I hold my tyred tong,
Me thinkes I heare, the bell to sound adew,
My withered corps, with deadly cold is clung,
A happier turne, if I had dyed yong,
My shrouding sheete, then had not beene of shame,
Who dying now, doth liue in filthy fame.
And thus perforce, I hold my tyred tong,
Me thinkes I heare, the bell to sound adew,
My withered corps, with deadly cold is clung,
A happier turne, if I had dyed yong,
My shrouding sheete, then had not beene of shame,
Who dying now, doth liue in filthy fame.
Siue bonum, siue malum, farna est.
26
[Poems from the Discourse of Rinaldo and Giletta]
The
pyning wight, presented with reliefe.
With souden ioy, a while forgoes his sense:
The retchlesse youth, likewise besiegde with griefe,
With feare dismayd, forgets to vse defence:
Such is the force, of hastie ioy or woe,
As for the time, few knoweth what they doe.
With souden ioy, a while forgoes his sense:
The retchlesse youth, likewise besiegde with griefe,
With feare dismayd, forgets to vse defence:
Such is the force, of hastie ioy or woe,
As for the time, few knoweth what they doe.
And I vnwares, with both extremes forgone,
Subiect to loue, that neuer felt his force,
One while dismayd, I starude in wretched mone,
And straight through hope, I tasted sweet remorse,
Soust wt these stormes, whē I shuld moue my suit,
Small wonder though, a while I masked mute.
Subiect to loue, that neuer felt his force,
One while dismayd, I starude in wretched mone,
And straight through hope, I tasted sweet remorse,
Soust wt these stormes, whē I shuld moue my suit,
Small wonder though, a while I masked mute.
27
And yet (God wot) my sighes did plead amaine,
They broke the cloudes, that cowred all my care,
My ruthfull lookes, presented still my paine,
As who wold say: When wil she cleare thy scare?
Attending thus, when you should note my case,
The time forewent, ere I could sue for grace.
They broke the cloudes, that cowred all my care,
My ruthfull lookes, presented still my paine,
As who wold say: When wil she cleare thy scare?
Attending thus, when you should note my case,
The time forewent, ere I could sue for grace.
But now (constraynd) neede makes the creeple goe,
My festred sore (of force) some cure must seeke,
My woundes so bleed, I cannot hide my woe,
My hurt is heald, if you my seruice like,
Let egall loue, goe bath in wished blisse,
Suffiseth me, my maistresse hand to kisse.
My festred sore (of force) some cure must seeke,
My woundes so bleed, I cannot hide my woe,
My hurt is heald, if you my seruice like,
Let egall loue, goe bath in wished blisse,
Suffiseth me, my maistresse hand to kisse.
Lo thus, deare dame, you know my case and cure,
It rests in you, my life to saue or spyll,
If you desire, I should these stormes indure,
Commaund my death, and I will worke your wyl,
If not in time, him for your seruant chuse,
Who liuing dies, till you his seruice vse.
It rests in you, my life to saue or spyll,
If you desire, I should these stormes indure,
Commaund my death, and I will worke your wyl,
If not in time, him for your seruant chuse,
Who liuing dies, till you his seruice vse.
Roberto Rinaldo
29
[When Sommers force is past, and Winter sets in foote]
When Sommers force is past, and Winter sets in foote,The hart and strength of hearbs and trees, is nourisht by the roote.
The frostes and froward blasts, doth nip the naked spray,
The Sommer liuerie of the bowes, with colde is worne away,
Yet liues such rootes in hope, that Phœbus glimering beames,
Will once dissolue syr Hiems force, his frostes and ysie streames,
And lend reliefe at length, when he their lacke should see.
With coates of leaues to cloth their armes, fit garments for a tree.
Euen so both hope and dread, doth wage continuall fight,
Deare dame, in me, whose Sommers ioy, you raisde with friendly sight,
But loue, vnlookt (God wot) to yoke my wanton yeares,
Straight vsde his force, and base desart, consumd my ioy with feares,
It raysed frostes of scorne, my fire to ouerthrowe,
This chaungd the Sommer of your sight, to Winter of my woe:
Yet fled my heart to hope, who faintly feedeth me,
Your pittie passeth poore estate, where faythfull loue you see,
He shewes by secrete signes, your vertues euery one,
And sayes your beautie breedes no pride, that brueth all my mone.
But maugre friendly hope, base hap with me doth striue,
Who weares my flesh, with withered feare, how so my hart doth thriue
Which is the very cause, why I these colours weare,
The ground of hope, bewrayes my heart, the gards my desperate feare:
But if with graunt of grace, my griefes you meane to quite,
Both hope and dread shall soone be chaungd, to colours of delight.
Roberto Rinaldo.
33
[In bondage free I liue, yet free am fettered faste]
In bondage free I liue, yet free am fettered faste,In pleasure paine, in paine I find a thousād pleasures plaste,
I frye, yet frosen am, I freese amid the fire,
I haue my wish and want my will, yet both as I desire,
I loue and liue by lokes, and loking workes my woe,
Were loue no god, this life were strange, but as he is, not so.
For through his aukward fitts, I suck such sweete in sower,
As I a yeare of dole would bide, to haue one lightning hower.
I like no life, but such, as worketh with his will,
His wil my wish, my wish to loue betyde good luck or ill,
No choyce shall make mee chaunge, or fancie new desire,
Although desire first blew the cole, that set my thoughtes on fire.
But fire, frostes and all, such calme contents doth moue,
As forst I graunt there is no life, to that is led in loue.
Yea base I thinke his thought, that would not gladly die,
To leade but halfe, of halfe an houre, in such delight as I.
Now thou deare dame, that workste, these sweete affectes in mee,
Touchsafe my zeale, that onely seeke, to serue and honour thee.
So shall my thralled brest, for fancies free haue scope,
If not, it helpes, I haue free will, to loue, and liue in hepe.
Roberto Rinaldo.
36
[More haste then neede, doth turne to waste]
More haste then neede, doth turne to waste,
and waste doth al thinges marre,
Your Haruest, is in grasse good Syr,
as hastie as you are.
and waste doth al thinges marre,
Your Haruest, is in grasse good Syr,
as hastie as you are.
This doubtfull ieast, among my ioyes,
my mystresse late did peppe,
But I reply, that backward haste,
can neuer blast my croppe.
my mystresse late did peppe,
But I reply, that backward haste,
can neuer blast my croppe.
For sith (sweete wench) my seede of loue,
hath taken roote in time,
And cleare escapt the frostes of scorne,
that pincht it in the prime.
hath taken roote in time,
And cleare escapt the frostes of scorne,
that pincht it in the prime.
Now that the spring time of your grace,
hath raisde it to an eare,
The kindely riping of the same,
in faith I litle feare.
hath raisde it to an eare,
The kindely riping of the same,
in faith I litle feare.
For scorched sythes, like Summers sunne,
will hasten on this wheate,
And stormes of teares, as heauenly dewe,
shall nourish with the heate.
will hasten on this wheate,
And stormes of teares, as heauenly dewe,
shall nourish with the heate.
The ielous weedes of foule suspect,
which louers ioyes doth sting,
Shall cropped bee, with hooke of faith,
that fauour freash may spring.
which louers ioyes doth sting,
Shall cropped bee, with hooke of faith,
that fauour freash may spring.
Then banish dread, from thee deere dame,
my speede will worke no waste,
Since that the season serues so well,
our Haruest for to haste.
my speede will worke no waste,
Since that the season serues so well,
our Haruest for to haste.
Roberto Rinaldo.
38
[Beautie leaue off to brag, thy brauery is but brayd]
Beautie leaue off to brag, thy brauery is but brayd,Thou mayst (God wot) thy visard vaile, thy wanton maskes are wrayd.
Thy toyes in thy attyre, thy plumes fortells thy pride,
Thy coyues, thy caules, thy curling cost, thy surfling helpes are spide.
Thy gases are for guestes, that garish showes wil eye,
Else who so blinde, but that hee can a painted visage spie,
39
I hould (God wot) thy vauntes as vaine, thy lures, and loue I scorne,
For I beloued am, of one that thee doth passe,
In faith as much as finest gold, excelles the coursest brasse.
She needes no frizling feates, nor bumbaste for her breastes,
No glittring spangles for the gase, no ierkyns, iagges, nor iestes,
Her onely selfe a sunne, when thou art iudgde a starre,
Her sober lookes workes more regard, then all thy ruffling farre.
The reason is, the heauens, to reape the praise alone,
Did frame her eyes, her head, and handes of pearle and precious stone,
Which iewells needes no helpe, their beauties for to blase,
When brauery shadowes fowle defectes, or serues for wanton gase.
Besides her feature rare, her further fame to raise,
Her witt, her wordes, her workes in showe, doth winne a world of praise,
Then beautie haue no scorne, thy roome for to resigne,
To her, whose sundry markes of grace, thus shewes shee is diuine.
If not, thy champion chuse, if any dare auowe,
I doe the wronge, thee to abase, and her so to allowe,
And him I challenge forth, by force of fight to proue,
She hath no match, whom thus in heart, I honour, serue and loue.
Roberto Rinaldo.
44
[For faithfull loue, the hate I finde in lue]
For faithfull loue, the hate I finde in lue,
My vowe performde, the false of her behest,
The small reward, I reape for seruice true,
Her ioy to see, mee plunged in vnrest,
Doth force mee say, to finde an ende of paine,
O fancie die, thou feedest hope in vaine.
My vowe performde, the false of her behest,
The small reward, I reape for seruice true,
Her ioy to see, mee plunged in vnrest,
Doth force mee say, to finde an ende of paine,
O fancie die, thou feedest hope in vaine.
I sue for grace, shee smyles to see my smart,
I pleade for peace, shee seekes to sowe debate,
My sowre her sweete, my griefe doth glad her hart,
I fawne, shee frownes, I loue and shee doth hate,
Sith soe, I say, to finde an ende of paine,
O fancie die, thou feedest hope in vaine.
I pleade for peace, shee seekes to sowe debate,
My sowre her sweete, my griefe doth glad her hart,
I fawne, shee frownes, I loue and shee doth hate,
Sith soe, I say, to finde an ende of paine,
O fancie die, thou feedest hope in vaine.
Starue thou desire, which keepeth life in loue,
And so my thought, from showring woe shall cease,
But loue aliue, while fancie hope may moue,
A lyuing death, my sorrowes will increase,
Wherefore I say, to finde an ende of paine,
O fancie die, thou feedest hope in vaine.
And so my thought, from showring woe shall cease,
But loue aliue, while fancie hope may moue,
A lyuing death, my sorrowes will increase,
Wherefore I say, to finde an ende of paine,
O fancie die, thou feedest hope in vaine.
My fancies dead, I end of woes should finde,
My eyes, nay seas (God wot) of brackish teares
Would leaue to loue, whom loue hath made so blinde:
My thorned thoughtes, no more should foster feares,
But oh (aye mee) for to proroge my paine,
My fancies liue, and feedeth hope in vaine.
My eyes, nay seas (God wot) of brackish teares
Would leaue to loue, whom loue hath made so blinde:
My thorned thoughtes, no more should foster feares,
45
My fancies liue, and feedeth hope in vaine.
Doe what I can, I pray on plighted troth,
A (simple) thinke, shee will not breake this bonde,
I vowe to loue, I will not false my othe,
But, ah, I finde her false, and I too fonde:
Wherefore good death, at once delay my paine,
My fancies liue, and feedeth hope in vaine.
A (simple) thinke, shee will not breake this bonde,
I vowe to loue, I will not false my othe,
But, ah, I finde her false, and I too fonde:
Wherefore good death, at once delay my paine,
My fancies liue, and feedeth hope in vaine.
Roberto Rinaldo.
47
[Rinaldo, thy dissembling]
Rinaldo, thy dissembling, hath wrought my displeasure, &
although I will not shew how nor wherein thou art vniust, yet know thou, I know so well thy villanies, as no excuse shall remoue mee from reuenge. And if my vnpleasaunt lookes any way offende thee, assure thy selfe my heart tenne times more abhorreth thee: thereof let this my hand writing be a witnes, which I my selfe deliuer, to this ende, that thou mayst at once, end both thy hope, and vnregarded sute, by her that hates the more, then shee loues herselfe.
Giletta de Bologna.
50
[O needlesse fruit (of sinne the meane at first)]
O needlesse
fruit (of sinne the meane at first)
Thou forcedst Eue, and Adam didst intice,
To byte their bale, for which the earth was curst,
And headlong they, from vertue fell to vice,
Thou wert the baite, that Paris gaue the Dame,
Who in reward, set stately Troy aflame.
Thou forcedst Eue, and Adam didst intice,
To byte their bale, for which the earth was curst,
And headlong they, from vertue fell to vice,
Thou wert the baite, that Paris gaue the Dame,
Who in reward, set stately Troy aflame.
Thou didst conuey, the louing write that woode,
Dianas nymphe, from chaste, to foule desire,
By thee too soone, I (wretched) vnderstoode,
Gilettas scorne, that chaung'd her loue to yre,
And not content, but when my woes were dead,
With former cares, thou combrest fresh my head.
Dianas nymphe, from chaste, to foule desire,
By thee too soone, I (wretched) vnderstoode,
Gilettas scorne, that chaung'd her loue to yre,
And not content, but when my woes were dead,
With former cares, thou combrest fresh my head.
O enuious fruit, in whom few vertues are,
Thy shew is all, but who so on thee feedes,
Shall hardly finde, thee helpe, but health impaire:
Then sith to man, such plagues thy beautie breedes,
Would God thy guilt, vpon each apple tree,
Igrauen were, for euery eye to see.
Thy shew is all, but who so on thee feedes,
51
Then sith to man, such plagues thy beautie breedes,
Would God thy guilt, vpon each apple tree,
Igrauen were, for euery eye to see.
Roberto Rinaldo.
[Euen with the bloud that issues from his hart]
Euen with the bloud that issues from his hart,Rinaldo (wretch) this sorrie boune doth craue,
There may be grauen (by some continuing Arte)
These woful words, vpon his timelesse graue.
Loe here he lies, that reaped hate for loue,
Which hard exchaunge, to slea him selfe did moue.
52
Epilogus.
Loe here the fruits, of lust and lawlesse loue,Loe here their faults, that vale to either vice,
Loe Ladyes here, their falles (for your behoue)
Whose wanton willes, sets light by sound aduice.
Here lords may learn, with noble dames to match:
For dunghill Kyte, from kinde wil neuer flye:
The vessell long, will of the liquor smatch,
Wherewith at first, the same we taste or trie.
Here Cressids life, her lucke, and lothsome end,
Their Fortunes paint, that Cressids heires are,
Her fall doth will, all wantons to amend,
Their lightning ioyes, are ioynd with yeres of care:
Here youths, that see, a strumpets angrie moode,
May haply feare, to execute her hate:
Their hard luckes heere, ye purchase loue wt bloud,
Are warnings meete, for such as sowe debate.
And to be short, the sowre in sweetest loue,
Doth proue him blest, that least therof doth proue.
Formæ nulla fides.
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