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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The Countesse of Zeland, continueth in her complaint.
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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,
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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.
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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,
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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,
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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.
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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.
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