The Forrest of Fancy Wherein is conteined very prety Apothegmes, and pleasaunt histories, both in meeter and prose, Songes, Sonets, Epigrams and Epistles, of diuerse matter and in diuerse manner. With sundry other deuices, no lesse pithye then pleasaunt and profytable [by H. C.] |
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 | The Forrest of Fancy |  |
A yong Gentlewoman wrighteth this for aunswere to a Gentlemans Letter, that craued her loue and exhorteth her to keepe promise with him, wherein excusing her selfe, by her ouer yong yeres, and his vnhabillitye; she prayeth him to cease of his sute.
Your Leeters syr I haue receiued,and pondring well the same,
Haue now preparde my selfe thereto,
an aunswere fit to frome,
Though in your writ you rome and raunge,
aboute the bushe a while,
And vse huge heapes of needelesse wordes,
my sences to begyle.
I see you seeke, but all in vaine,
to winne me to your wife,
Which I may not vouchsafe to graunt,
for feare of further stryfe.
Because it is not in my power,
to doe it, though my will,
their handes whose prudent skill,
And wisedome great is such,
as knowing what for me,
Moste meetest is, to your demaund
will neuer once agree,
And as their care is very great
to doe me good, so I
(As duety binds) in all thinges will,
thy selfe to thein apply.
Your welth likewise is very small,
as you your selfe confesse,
And mine not great, and am right sure,
it would be so much lesse,
If following fancyes flateering words,
or fained vowes, I should
Contrary doe to friendes desyre,
and that which worst I would,
Their loue and fauour lose thereby,
therefore cease of your sute,
Content yur selfe with reasons rule,
and doe no blame impute
To me at all, whose tender age,
ne wit ne welth will serue,
To take in hand so great a charge,
but I therein should swerue.
And for that cause I doe not mynde,
to match with any one,
Untill I be of typer yeares,
nor promise plight to none,
Yet when I doe, I will apply
my selfe in all I may,
To choose a wise and prudent mate,
That walkes in vertues way:
Prouiding therewithall,
that welth doe neuer want,
the fruicte of such a plant:
For whereas liuing lacking is,
to maintaine such estate,
Their perfect loue will soone peruert,
to cruell cancred hate,
And whereas rooted rancour raignes.
all thinges to ruine runne,
Yea vertue chaungde to vice most yilde,
decay they cannot shunne
That shall be matched so, wherefore,
doth wisdome alwayes will,
In time conuenience heede to take,
if we will shunne such ill,
But though I know right well, the vse
of many men to be,
With flattering wordes, and fyled phrase,
as did Æneas he,
To Dido, and false Demophon
to Phillis faire his friend,
For to deceiue vs silly soules,
that neuer hurt pretend,
But credite all their cloked craft,
that beares a simple shoe,
Till we be caught in Cupids snare,
so fast, that forth to goe
We haue not power, and then vnkind
they leaue vs in the lash,
A iust reward no doubt for such.
as will be ouer rash
In that they take in hand, yet I,
not iudging so of you,
But thinking that your loue profest.
both perfect is and true,
Doe yeelde you thankes therefore,
and humbly pardon craue,
to that you seeke to haue,
The cause and reasons tolde before,
that doe in deede deteine me,
Perswading still the contrary,
at all times doe restraine me,
As for the promise which so much,
you vrge me for to keepe,
Assuring me by breache thereof,
to runne in daunger deepe,
No promise haue I made, whereon
you may so much take holde,
I am right sure, but that I may,
to breake the same be bolde,
But if I had, yet euery one
would iudge you farre vnwise,
To challenge any at my handes,
in whome it nothing lyes
For to performe the same, sith of
my selfe nothing I haue,
Nor wit to know what thing is ill,
or what is good to craue.
And therefore ayming very wyde,
and as one wanting sight,
Doth throw his staffe, so doe you shoote,
but shall not hid the whight,
And therefore now to make an ende,
I humbly you requyre,
No more to mooue me in such sort,
but brydeling your desyre,
And pondring rightly this reply,
which here to you I make,
To feede no more on foolish hope,
But this for aunswere take.
Finis.
| The Forrest of Fancy | |