A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight Originally written in the Greeke Tongue, by an unknowne Author. Afterwards Translated into Spanish; after that, for the Excellency thereof, into the French Tongue by N. H. next by B. M. into the Thuscan, and now turn'd into English Verse by L. L. [i.e. Leonard Lawrence] a well-wisher to the Muses |
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Belisa to Lucenda.
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 | A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight |  |
Belisa to Lucenda.
If my requests have caus'd as much distasteTo thee Lucenda, as I am shame-fac't
T'intreate them of thee, then I marvaile much
Your clemency and goodnesse should be such
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For to forgive so great an injury;
Yet howsoever it is so ordain'd,
That the harsh torments of the Captive, and
My loving brother, moove and cause in thee,
Unquiet anger, and disturbers be
Of thy sweete thoughts, and my earnest suing
As irksome to thee as my brothers woing.
The love I beare him it compelling me,
And trusting in thy vertuous courtesie,
I have presum'd my selfe for to present
Before thy face with his sad strain'd laments.
Heare then I pray thee, and with me beare part,
Since without them I live without a heart.
Lucenda know my brother doth intend
No more to love thee, but to give an end
Vnto those thoughts, that he himselfe may free
From servitude, and gaine his liberty:
Although the beauty and the lovely grace,
With the perfections of thy pleasing face,
Have fetter'd him in chaines of wilfull love,
And strongly bound him that he scarce can move:
Yet he doth say he'le do't, and forsake
His Countrey too, and then his absence make
An Arbitrator 'twixt thy cruelty
And his true love, and constant loyalty:
And thus exiled he doth hope to finde
What you deny him, being still unkinde.
But if you doe permit, or else consent
To let him act this his resolv'd intent,
Long after him I shall not live, but dye;
For after death my soule with his must flye.
If he himselfe absent he cannot live,
And I alone; who shall me comfort give?
And so forsaken, living desolate,
Death will my light with speede extenuate:
And thus shall I as disrespected be,
As if I were thy mortall enemy.
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Than really for to be pittifull:
For you reject the faithfull constancy
Of your true friend, who doth continually
Wish you more good than any living wight
Can optate for you, to your sweete delight.
Yet notwithstanding hath it ever beene
Heard of, or knowne, or at least wise seene,
That any one did ever gratifie
Such generous actions with discourtesie?
Wou't have his minde be whole, his will be sound
When thou his heart with torments dost confound?
Let me entreat thee, (nay for love of me)
New Lawes establish, and henceforth decree
Other Injunctions to thy resolv'd will,
And with unkindnesse doe not thou him kill.
Nor speake I this t'incite thee to transgresse
The bounded limits of thy vertuousnesse:
But if you act what I to you propound,
It to your praise and glory will redound:
Since through your pitty you may save, relieve
Two dying bodies, and their lives reprieve.
Oh say not nay (deare friend) to my requests,
Since that thy honour shall not be molest:
Revolve unto thy selfe what will become
Of my deare brother, if he abandon
Thy company; and what will eke betide.
To me (he absent) when alone I bide?
Take heede least you cause him precipitate,
And my sad sorrow doe not exasperate.
Oh call to minde, alas, doe not forget
His griefe, my anguish, sweete now pitty it:
For Ioves dread sake be not so obstinate,
Selfe-wil'd, resolv'd, or so opinionate:
Oppose thy will, but spotlesse, without staine
Vnto thy honour, or thy vertuous fame:
So shall you served be, honour'd, and I
Have consolation in my misery.
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Nor causer of my cruell-killing woe:
Strive to o'recome the passion of thy will,
Withstand its rage, the fury of it kill:
For all things govern'd by the wills direction
Come home with losse, and not with gains protection.
With my entreaties be not thou offended,
But let me thus farre be of thee befriended,
That thou wilt daigne some lines to recommend
Vnto my brother, and that to this end,
That the bright Taper of his living light
Be not snuft out, and so his day made night:
For 'tis against all reason, Law, or sence,
To punish him who hath done no offence.
| A Small Treatise betwixt Arnalte and Lucenda Entituled The Evill-intreated Lover, Or The Melancholy Knight | |