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 Rocke of Regard |  |
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,
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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.
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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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