University of Virginia Library

Myne olde dere enmy

wiates complaint vpon Loue, to Reason: with Loues answer.

Myne olde dere enmy, my froward maister,
Afore that Quene, I causde to be accited,
Which holdeth the diuine part of our nature,
That, like as golde, in fire he mought be tryed.
Charged with dolour, there I me presented
With horrible feare, as one that greatly dredeth
A wrongfull death, and iustice alway seketh.
And thus I sayd: once my left foote, Madame,
When I was yong, I set within his reigne:
Wherby other than fierly burning flame
I neuer felt, but many a greuous pain.
Torment I suffred, angre, and disdain:
That mine oppressed pacience was past,
And I mine owne life hated, at the last.
Thus hitherto haue I my time passed
In pain and smart. What wayes profitable:
How many pleasant dayes haue me escaped,
In seruing this false lyer so deceauable?
What wit haue wordes so prest, and forceable,
That may conteyn my great mishappinesse,
And iust complaintes of his vngentlenesse?
So small hony, much aloes, and gall,
In bitternesse, my blinde life hath ytasted.
His false semblance, that turneth as a ball:
With fair and amorous daunce, made me be traced,
And, where I had my thought, and mynde araced,
From earthly frailnesse, and from vayn pleasure,
Me from my rest he toke, and set in errour:
God made he me regard lesse, than I ought,
And to my self to take right litle hede:
And for a woman haue I set at nought
All other thoughtes: in this onely to spede.
And he was onely counseler of this dede:
Whettyng alwayes my youthly frayle desire
On cruell whetston, tempered with fire.
But (Oh alas) where, had I euer wit?

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F3v

Or other gift, geuen to me of nature?
That sooner shalbe changed my weried sprite:
Then the obstinate wyll, that is my ruler.
So robbeth he my fredom with displeasure,
This wicked traytour, whom I thus accuse:
That bitter life hath turned in pleasant vse.
He hath me hasted, thorough diuers regions:
Through desert wodes, and sharp hye mountaines:
Through froward people, and through bitter passions:
Through rocky seas, and ouer hilles and plaines:
With wery trauell, and with laborous paynes:
Alwayes in trouble and in tediousnesse:
All in errour, and dangerous distresse,
But nother he, nor she, my tother fo,
For all my flight, dyd euer me forsake:
That though my timely death hath been to slow
That me as yet, it hath not ouertake:
The heauenly goddes of pity doe it slake.
And, note they this his cruell tiranny,
That fedes him, with my care, and misery.
Since I was his, hower rested I neuer,
Nor loke to do: and eke the waky nightes
The banished slepe may in no wise recouer.
By guile, and force, ouer my thralled sprites,
He is ruler: since which bel neuer strikes,
That I heare not as sounding to renue
My plaintes. Himself, he knoweth, that I say true.
For, neuer wormes olde rotten stocke haue eaten:
As he my hart, where he is resident,
And doth thesame

[_]

the same

with death dayly threaten.
Thence come the teares, and thence the bitter torment:
The sighes: the wordes, and eke the languishment:
That noy both me, and parauenture other.
Iudge thou: that knowest the one, and eke the tother.
Mine aduersair, with such greuous reproofe,
Thus he began. Heare Lady, thother part:
That the plain troth, from which he draweth aloofe,
This vnkinde man may shew, ere that I part.
In his yong age, I toke him from that art,
That selleth wordes, and makes a clatteryng Knight:
And of my wealth I gaue him the delight.
Now shames he not on me for to complain,

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F4r

That held him euermore in pleasant gain,
From his desyre, that might haue been his payn.
Yet therby alone I brought him to some frame:
Which now, as wretchednes, he doth so blame:
And towarde honor quickned I his wit:
Where:as a daskard els he mought haue sit.
He knoweth, how grete Atride that made Troy freat,
And Hanniball, to Rome so troubelous:
Whom Homer honored, Achilles that great,
And Thaffricane Scipion the famous:
And many other, by much nurture glorious:
Whose fame, and honor did bring them aboue:
I did let fall in base dishonest loue.
And vnto him, though he vnworthy were:
I chose the best of many a Milion:
That, vnder sonne yet neuer was her pere,
Of wisdom, womanhod, and of discrecion:
And of my grace I gaue her such a facion,
And eke such way I taught her for to teache,
That neuer base thought his hart so hye might reche,
Euermore thus to content his maistresse,
That was his onely frame of honesty,
I stirred him still, toward gentlenesse:
And causde him to regard fidelity.
Pacience I taught him in aduersity.
Such vertues learned, he in my great schole:
Wherof repenteth, now the ignorant foole.
These, were the same deceites, and bitter gall,
That I haue vsed, the torment, and the anger:
Sweter, then euer dyd to other fall,
Of right good sede yll frute loe thus I gather.
And so shall he, that the vnkinde dothe further.
A Serpent nourish I vnder my wing:
And now of nature, ginneth he to styng.
And for to tell, at last, my great seruise.
From thousand dishonesties haue I him drawen:
That, by my meanes, him in no maner wyse.
Neuer vile pleasure once hath ouerthrowen.
Where, in his dede, shame hath him alwaies gnawen:
Doutyng report, that should come to her eare:
Whom now he blames, her wonted he to feare.
What euer he hath of any honest custome:

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F4v

Of her, and me: that holdes he euerywhit,
But, lo, yet neuer was there nightly fantome
So farre in errour, as he is from his wit.
To plain on vs, he striueth with the bit,
Which may rule him, and do him ease, and pain:
And in one hower, make all his grief his gayn.
But, one thing yet there is, aboue all other:
I gaue him winges, wherwith he might vpflie
To honor, and fame: and if he would to higher
Than mortall thinges, aboue the starry skie:
Considering the pleasure, that an eye
Might geue in earth, by reason of the loue:
What should that be that lasteth still aboue?
And he the same himself hath sayd, ere this.
But, now, forgotten is both that and I,
That gaue her him, his onely wealth and blisse.
And, at this word, with dedly shreke and cry:
Thou gaue her once: quod I, but by and by,
Thou toke her ayen from me: that wo worth the.
Not I but price: more worth than thou (quod he.)
At last: eche other for himself, concluded:
I, trembling still: but he, with small reuerence.
Lo, thus, as we eche other haue accused:
Dere Lady: now we waite thyne onely sentence.
She smiling, at the whisted audience:
It liketh me (quod she) to haue hard your question:
But, lenger time doth ask a resolucion.