A discourse of the great crueltie of a widowe towardes a yong gentleman, and by what meanes he requited the same. Set forth in English verse by Iohn God

A discourse of the great crueltie of a widowe towardes a yong gentleman, and by what meanes he requited the same. Set forth in English verse by Iohn God

Table of contents

Title page

LECTORI.

The Prefac• to the Reader.

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WIthin the reach of Europe land a pleasant soyle there is,

Which Thu ri [...] hight, a Citie faire, abounding in great blisse,

Whose pastors greene, Euridanus doth moysten with his Poole,

The skorching haste of Titans flames, this pleasant streame doth coole:

The bredth whereof doth meze mens eyes when they the same do view,

That eche wight to inhabite there, doth dayly seeke and sue.

Wherein there dwelt a widowe faire, and Zilia was hir name,

Whose comely port and princely face, did merite lasting fame.

So beautifull of face shee was, so feat of lim and ioynt,

That sure a world it is to see hir shape from point to point

So comely to be knit: for wit she bare the bel,

Hir comely shape, al other wights for beautie did excel.

But yet one stayned spot hir body did defile,

Whose haggard wonts, & churlishe deede [...] at length did hir begile.

[Page]Who went astray from natures course, and therby lost hir name:

Hir cruell gests and foolish deedes did bring hir to disdaine:

When Atropos hir leche liues threede with kn [...]fe had cut in twaine,

For whom she did Lament and mournt, with sorowe greefe and paine.

Shee bent hir selfe hir house to decke with toyling paine and greefe,

Is spinning carding and such like to finde hir selfe releefe.

Wheras before she largely gaue, now she doth couet all,

Hir bountie great, hir courteous giftes. are turned now to thrall.

Hir maides she doth employ with worke, though she possesse great lande.

Shee thought that nothing wel was done, that came not through hir hand.

A thing truely of more great praise, than for to viewe our dames,

Whose fine and daintie fingers lothe to suffer any paines.

Who thinke their honors to be staind if once they do but holde

Their noses ouer their houshold things, who wil not be controloe.

[Page]Wheras their hands were requisite to helpe at time of neede,

And they in place, their businesse might be dispatcht with speede.

Let Lucrece life a myrror be to those which vse that rate,

Not running forth to feastes and games, nor with yong girles to prate.

Not fondly gadding heere and there, nor masking in the night,

But with hir maides to spin and carde, it was hir whole delight.

Shee did regarde hir honor more than so to spend hir time:

Ill which our widow Zilia did, as Po [...]tes do define.

She would not once at feastes be seene, nor seldome come abrode:

Unlesse to Church she did repaire as writers do recorde,

Shee would not with the daintie dames to gardens once resort,

Nor to such place where pleasure was nor any place of sport.

Shee seemde as though she studied the Egiptian law to vse,

Bicause she would not get reproche, nor yet hir selfe abuse.

[Page]They paint before dame Venus mouth, a bright and shining kay,

Wherby they meane, that silence did hir guide in per [...]ect way:

And at hir feet a Tortus plast, wherby they did deuise,

That wandring forth and straying oft, was not hir vse nor guise.

This practise vsed Zilia, whose tong was tyde from talke,

Whose footestep seke were not at large abrodethe streetes to walke.

Shee seeemd so religious, as though nought were amisse,

She made it straunge and very coy to yelde from hir a kisse

To any wight, which curtesse til this day doth remaine,

That women ought with chastly kisse, eche wight to entertaine,

But let vs leaue hir for a while, and marke what chanced then,

With snarling traps bow Cupid oft therein doth tangle men.

There dwelt hard by that Thurin towne a Lord of great renoune,

Who Philiberto had to name, in welth he did abounde.

[Page]Of Virle Countrey he was Lord, a man expert in warre,

By dint of sworde his foes to quel, whose glory reached farre.

It hapned thus, that at the Church where Zilia did resort,

This noble Lord was there likewise in comely state and port.

Whose daseling eyes by hap did view this widowes worthy face,

Hir liuely hewe did please his minde, his port and louely grace.

Whose humors fed with fantasie, and pleasde with Cupides game,

Could not withdrawe those fixed eyes from that his noble dame.

The venomed shaft of Cupides howe did take in him such place,

That all his soundest partes of minde were trapt in woful case.

Thus al the morning viewing wel hir grace and comely port,

Shee made no more account of him than of the meanest sort.

The seruice done, he thought the Priest made very great post hast,

For now vpon his noble dame his eyes he might not cast.

[Page]But comming home, of standers by he did enquire hir name,

Who ceased not without delay to she [...]e to him the same.

Hir stubberne state and churlish deedes to tel they did not spare,

H [...]r greedy minde and coyly lookes to him they do declare.

He hearing this, was al in dumps, not knowing what to say,

He thought his sute would not preuaile, but gets him streight away,

And to his chamber he doth wend, and layes him on his bed,

Ten thousande thoughtes & careful greefes molest his troubled hed.

But bayting yet him selfe with hope, and tickled eke with loue,

This widowes heart what so did chaūce he minded was to proue.

And thus he did him selfe deuise to loue hir beautie stil,

That through long seruice he might get at length of hir his wil.

He now the Churc doth oft frequent, and seemes a holy state,

And all to viewe the Princely port of his beloued mate.

[Page]At length he prickt with fiery heat, tooke courage stout and bolde,

And in the Church to speake to hir his heart was nothing colde:

He often did conduct hir home, that he hir heart might win:

But now as farre from that he sought as when he did begin.

For if of loue he spake to hir, she strenght wold turne hir tale,

And talke to him of houshold things which made [...]is heart to quaile.

Thus they of sundry mindes, and diuers eke in thought,

Did not to others talke giue eare which he full duely sought.

Thus voide of hope he partes, whose cheerefull lookes be dasht.

His reddy cheekes be turnde to pale, his sprites were all agast.

This bashfull wight comes home and rues his woful plight,

Bycause he could no fauour finde before his Ladies sight.

Yet once againe conceiuing hope of that he did desire,

Constrained through the parching heat of Cupides burning fire,

[Page]He thus deuised with him selfe, to frame his matters so,

Unto a woman there hard by be minded for to go,

Who was familiar with his dame: to hir he would complaine,

And tel hir of his woful plight that she might ease his paine.

Thus thinking, forth he goes, and tels his woful state,

Unto the wight who gaue hir eare vnto his wretched fate.

He tolde hir al his woe, his sorow, greefe, and paine,

Wherfore to be releast of those he would be glad and faine:

Shee marked wel his woful plight, of loue shee had good skill:

Who knewe what meates they feed vpon that are at Venus will.

Shee knewe the entermingled drugs and the deceitful wine,

That Cupide quastes vnto the guestes with Venus that do dine.

Shee therefore knowing his disease and waying al his greefe,

Did promise for to ease his wee and get him some releefe,

[Page]If shee might knowe the wight, that so his hart did loue,

Shee would put to hir hel [...]ing hand that matter for to proue.

Oh Zilia, Zilia, shee it is with doleful tune he cries:

Therefore with present remedy, to help he hir desires.

And that she woulde betwixt them bothe, an intercessour stande:

Whose paines should wel rewarded be, with siluer, golde or lande.

Mine onely hope doth rest in you, my comfort and delight

Dooth all depend of you (he sayes) to get that princely wight,

And I your souldiour here, am prest to doe your will.

In right or wrong to take your part, and stil your best fulfil.

This saide he holdes his peace, and she with mourning cheare,

Was wrapt in woe, and did lament his doleful case to heart.

For shee full well did knowe that shee would not consent,

Whose stubborn [...] nature was so fierce, that shee [...] not present

[...]

[Page]His cause before her state, least shee rebuke should gaine:

Ther [...]fore of this request and sute she would be rid full fain [...].

But waying wel his plight, and yelding ayde to him,

She would (s [...]e sayde) do that for him that might be done therein.

But yet shee still perswaded him for to successe his loue,

But all in vaine, his harte was fixt that none coulde if remoue.

He doth his neighbour now intreat a letter for to beare,

Unto his loue, to giue the same and naught at all to feare.

Which she with othe did promise him: wherefore she bad him write,

Without delay or tract of time this letter to endite.

Then to his closet he doth go, and pen doth fake:

And on this wise he did deuise his letter for to make.

[Page]

The Letter of Seignior Philiberto, vnto mistresse Zilia.

THe death with trenchant dart doth breede in breast such ill,

That I cannot forget the smart that thereby riseth stil:

Yet nerethelesse since that I am the ill it selfe in deede,

That death with dayly dolours deepe within my brest doth breede▪

I am your lasting thrall, and yet I doe not knowe

If you heare me good will at all, or if you loue, or no.

My wounde is made so large with bitter woe in brest,

That still my heart prepares a place to lodge a carefull guest.

Oh dame, thou hast my life and death at thy desire,

Come ease my minde, where fansies flames doe burne like Aetna fire.

For wanting thee, my life is death and dolefull cheere,

And finding fauour in thy sight, my dayes are happie heere.

[Page]The God that made my soule and knowes what I haue felt,

Who causeth sighs and sorowes oft the siely soule to swelt,

Dooth see my torments now, and what I suffer still,

And vnderstands I taste more greefe than I can shewe by skill.

To thee faire dame I cry that makst my senses erre,

And plantest peace full nere my hart, and then makst sodaine warre.

Yet at thy pleasure still thou mayest my soure make sweete,

In graunting me the right good will for faithfull louers meete.

Which fauour if I get, vnto my noble minde,

I doe remaine a gally slaue, as thou by proofe shalt finde.

And so thou shalt release my hart from cruel bands,

If I may get the worthy peace, that yeelde into thy hands.

So rendring all to thee, the Gods may ioyne vs both

In one true league of vnitie, through force of constant trothe.

[Page]Then shalt thou mistresse be of life, of lim and all:

My golde, my honour, lande and see shal be so at thy call.

¶This letter closde, he gaue to her, which shee with speede did take:

He wylled her to pray his dame, an answere for to make.

When he hys talke had finished, his corps on bed he laid:

But at the last his eyes burst out with teares, and thus he said.

Oh God that rules the skyes, in whom my trust doth lie:

And thou (oh God) which chiefest art aboue the golden skye:

And thou oh Lady dere, oh Venus by thy name,

Uouchsafe my woful cry to heare, thy captiue do not blame,

Though that alwayes I sought thy force for to withstand:

Yet now I feele the waighty force of Cupid thy sonnes hande,

Take pitty now therefore, sith that a captiue I,

Cannot preuaile, yet giue me salue to cure my misery.

[Page]Thus he with dolefull cheere did wayle and rue his case,

And none but widowe Zilia could in his heart take place.

But let vs leaue him here opprest with griefe and paine,

And vnto widowe Zilia let vs returne againe,

Who hard at woorke, when as the saw her neighbour comming in:

She skant would lift hir from her stoole where she as then did spin.

Her neighbour ful of curtesy sayde she would with her speake,

Who quick and short desited her with hast her minde to breake.

She not prolonging time, began with teares and dolefull cheere,

To tell the sute and woful case of her most noble peere.

She tolde her all his griefe and paine was onely for her sake:

Desiring her, with willing minde for to become his make.

And there withall drew forth the letter which she had,

The same presenting vnto her with countnaunce very sad,

[Page]Desiring her to read the same, and streight an answere sende

Unto the wight, within whose hart great cares and greefe be pende.

The matter lyes in you his life to saue or spill,

Unlesse you graunt to his request through greefe his hart you kil.

Let pity therefore reigne within your tender brest,

And shewe some fauour to the [...]ight the which doth loue you best.

This said, she holdes her peace: the widowe then began

With frowning face and egre looks, and thus her talke did frame:

Your talke I listned wel vnto, but yet I doe not proue:

Your fonde intente misliketh me, I minde not for to loue.

I meruayle much that you would once so fondely speake to mee,

And to such loyall louers that I should with hart agree:

I thought your wit had not bene suche to spend your time so ill,

Regarding noug [...]t your honesty, nor how your name you spill.

[Page]It had bene more conuenient for you to bene at home:

Than was to gad the stre [...]ts about, so fondly all alone.

My minde did throb to heare your talke, mine eares began to glowe:

To heare your wordes, which at the first I thought had not bene so.

For if I had, I would at once vnto your talke giue eare:

To speake to me of such fonde things I neyther would forbeare.

But yet his letter I will reade, to heare his foolishe minde,

And of his fonde pretenced will, to s [...]e what I can finde.

Then shee began to reade, as you before did h [...]are:

And being re [...], her ruddy cheekes were channgde to heauy chear [...].

Her rosy colour pale, her sprites were all agast:

This louely letter whiche shee red, it made hir al abasht

But taking courage bolde, and plucking vp hir sprites

Did argue thus, that shee did not [...]steeme of those delites,

[Page]But pausing yet a while, shee felt a wondrous chaunge

Within h [...]r brest, now loue, nowe rage within her corps to raunge.

Her colour chaunged oftentimes, these twaine brought hir such paine:

But yet the ruddy raynt did come into her face agayne,

With no lesse hue and shyning cheere, than when the bloomed Rose

Is newly sprouted forth, then pale away with trice it goes.

But rancour taking place within this widowes brest:

Both loue and louely letter shee did vtterly detest.

Then turning to the messenger, shee thus to her did speake:

I thought that you would not haue sought my chastitye to break,

Nor go about a thing so fond, whereby great shame might rise:

I truly thought that you had bene, more sober, sage and wise.

Why should you thus now go about to get my whole consent:

That euer since my husband dyed, did seeke loue to preuent?

[Page]Hath any light behauiour of you in me bene seene,

That to consent vnto your heast at all you once might deeme?

I think not so, why should you then presume or be so bolde

With foolishe talke and fonde desire suche things for to vnfolde?

But trust to this, the onely loue which I to you doe beare,

Doth make me nowe keepe those things close, which I would not forbeare

Unto no wight, except to you: therfore no more of this,

But leaue your foolishe enterprise, for naught and fonde it is.

Let it suffice in time to come for you therefore I say,

To thinke and stedfastly beleeue that I am chast alway.

And bid the Lord of Italie leaue of and fonde desire,

And bid him likewise not at all my chastitie require.

For this I chuse vnto my self, that I will rather dye,

Than to fulfill his lusting will my selfe I would applye.

[Page]And that the same he wel may knowe, let him be sure of this,

That of his priuate talkt he had with me, be now shall misse.

Nowe therefore get you home, and talke no more of him:

Whose amorous toyes and fayned woes I let not by a pin.

The woman when she heard her wordes, beeing pinched to the quicke.

Whose basty words and cruell lookes her hart full sort d [...]d pricke,

She thus did speake with quiet word [...]s, the Gods with hasty speede,

Sende present helpe vnto you both who haue thereof great neede:

Whose sicknesse and diseases bothe are [...]ardly healde to be,

Unlesse the Gods from out the sky [...]s doe sende some rem [...]dy.

And saying thus, shee parts, and streight shee commeth home,

And findes her Lord vppon his bed with heauy cheere to grone.

Who seemed rather to be dead than for to be on liue.

For that his cares and nipping greefes away he could not driue.

[Page]But loking on his neighbour then, who was returnde againe:

When that he saw her heauy cheere he cryed out amayne,

And would not list vnto her wordes, but wrapt in carefull woe,

Lamented sore his heauy case, whose wordes they sounded so:

O thou vnlucky man, whom fortune fauours nought:

The loue of her who loues thee not, thou hast ful derely bought.

Thou payest well for pleasures past great vsury and gaine:

For now in stead of wonted ioyes, thou suffrest double paine.

Thy liberty thou haddest once, but nowe in bondage kepte,

And for thy pleasures and delites, great cares and greefes be left.

Thrice happy hadst thou bene, if hir thou hadst not seene:

And if hir name thou neuer heardst, thou mightst haue blessed bene.

But sith the cruel destinyes, doe weaue for thee such woe,

Thou needs must languishe in distresse, it is decreed so.

[Page]Then speaks he to the messenger, (who did with teares bewaile)

His woful state, but yet his griefe hir teares could naught auaile.

Dooth Zilia take in gratefull wise the letter that I sent:

And did shee take them thankfully, when them you did present?

I knowe not so, wherefore great wrong to you I nowe haue done,

For now your wonted company I knowe that she will shun.

Ah fickle loue, what foole is he that doth him self commit

Unto thy rage, and fury fell that lasteth such a fit?

The glistring shew of Sunny beames, at first did bring my ioy:

But now the darke and foggy mist doth worke me great anoy.

I sayled first with prosperous winde, but stormes did come at last:

Who in the surge of foming seas, my corps doe ouercast.

Wherefore an ende of my mishaps I think I none shall haue,

Nor fauour yet of Mistresse mine, the which my life would saue.

[...]

[Page]In cruel wenche, what meanest thou my soule thus to torment?

Who would my corps to doe thee good for sacrifice present.

How doest thou measure the good will of him that loues thee best?

Who for thy sake in night or day for greefe can take no r [...]st?

Oh toat thy beauty once in thee a fault so foule should see,

As to torment those louing wights whiche prayse and honour thee.

Oh cruell and vnkindly dede, those seruants to expell,

And set so little by the wight that loues to serue thee wel.

O Basiliske so coloured and pleasaunt to mans eye,

And yet within, the bitter gall in secreate wise doth lye.

Whose poyson is dispersed now throughout my woful brest,

That all my senses for to doe their offices detest.

But yet and if I had some drug to set my harte at ease,

These greefes, these sighs and sobbings oft I should ful soone appease.

[Page]Then for the dame that breeds my woe I would not sute nor sue,

But yet I feele and also proue this sentence to bee true:

No phisick herbes that growes in field the greefe of loue can cure,

Nor yet no drug that man inuents that paine can well assure.

Alas the searecloth will not serue to tent my wofull wound:

To launche the same I thinck in vaine my greefe should then abound.

But to be short, no dressing can so fit for me be founde,

Except the hand of her alone that gaue to me my wound.

But woulde to God she sawe the depth and bottome of my harte,

And vewde the closet of my minde, and how I suffer smarte:

That she might iudge my constant faith, and knowe the wrong I heare,

Her rigorous deeds and frowarde wil doe put me in great feare.

But on vnhappy man, I feele that I shall nothing gaine,

For all her pleasures and delights doe rest vpon my paine:

[Page]Her ease vpon my woe, her ioy vppon my greefe:

My sobbing teares, my groning sighes doe bring to hir releefe.

And saying thus, he sore did weepe and sighed oft betweene,

The Christall drops ran downe his cheeks as he a childe had bene.

The woman standing by him there, and seeing all his paine,

Shee vewing well his wofull plight, no longer would remaine.

Shee pityed so his case and did lament his woe:

That she from teares could not abstain to see him vexed so.

But then shee tolde the whole successe of Philiberts loue,

Unto a Gentleman, who sayde that he would try and proue

How he might get him helth, whose freende and mate he was:

Who carefull was and lothe that he, out of the worlde should passe.

He goeth for Phisicions in cunning that excel:

Who with their drugs, & sweet preserues, that they might make him wel:

[Page]And for to knowe the cause of greefe that so doth him molest,

And eke of them to knowe what kinde of medicines be best.

At last he brings Phisitions his woful plight to see,

But none alas is there can tell to cure his malady.

The gentleman dooth weepe and wayle, hys wofull friende to see:

At last of them he doth enquire, if any helpe there bee.

To whom they answere make with heauy bending cheere,

That nought but death in him at all to their sight did appeare,

For liuely bloud was gone, his pulses did not beat,

His limbs waxt starke for wont of bloude and lacke of liuely heat:

His senses do denie their offices to doo,

His breath doth fa [...]e, and men do looke but death for to ensue.

Thus they dispayring of his helth, and t [...]inking [...]e would die,

Of money store they hauing then do leaue hym by and by.

[Page]Which when his friendly mate did see, he could no way deuise

How he might get againe his helth by any kinde of wise.

He trudged home to Zilia, desiring hir to shew

Some pity to the Lorde of Virle, but fill shee did say no.

He proffred giftes and promises, but all could not preuaile:

Which when he saw, hir stubborne stat [...] he did lament and wayle.

And did not knowe vnto what Saint for succour he might go:

It greeued him to see his friend so wrapt in careful woe.

But in the ende, he did deuise to go to hir againe,

That w [...]s the former messenger, that she might ease his paine.

And for his purpose finding hir, he sp [...]ke with doleful cheere:

O mistresse mi [...]e mine onely ayde, I pray you now come neere:

I maruel much th [...]t of she might you make [...]o small account,

Who for [...]ch wi [...]t [...] in woful case a ready helpe w [...]s wont.

[Page]If any pitty reigne within your tender brest,

To helpe the wight that lies halfe dead be ready bent and prest:

Whose sighes and teares do pitty mee when I the same do heare,

Whose shrikes & grones, whose carefull mone [...] do much abate my cheare.

The Gods do knowe (quoth she) if I could tel what way,

To cast his wo, or shorten greefe, the same I would assay.

But yet to him, I straight wil wend, and promise him, that I

With careful head and hasty speede will get some remedy:

Which may h [...]s pain perchance apease, and then I will debate,

How that our promise we may keep to ease his woful state.

Thus both at once they go, the patient for to see:

Who when he saw his [...]essenger he thought him sa [...]e to bee,

Still thinking that she would an intercessour stand,

And for to ease his pyning greefe she should put to hir hand.

[Page]But thus to hir he sayde: take pitty on the wight

Which lies in darknesse, and would faine obtaine the shining light.

I mea [...]e, seeke to aswage my woe and nipping greefe:

Seeke to appease my groning ghost, and get me some releefe.

This sayd shee speaks to him, I knowe not what you meane

Thus to torment your selfe with wo [...] as we haue plainly seene,

I trust ere Phoebus twice his banner do display,

And for the cleere and shining light doth make a perfecte way,

To bring the thing about whereby great ioy may rise

To you: thus I through cunning ski [...] this matter wi [...]l deuise,

That you with hir shal speake on whom you so complayne,

So that to hir with c [...]urage bolde you may declare your payne.

How pleasant is your talke to me? how dul [...]et be your wordes?

To speake vnto that princely wight I would spend al my goods.

[Page]These licours you would haue me fast for faithful louers meete,

Which superficially do seme for to be very sweete,

But afterwards, do make my life more wrapt in feeble case

Than at the first, which wil with cares my senses all vnlace.

What do you then dispayre (quoth shee) and trust not to my words?

You shall of troth go speake with her, without the losse of goods.

Take therfore courage bolde, and arme your selfe with hope:

And thanke me at such time, when as you haue vnto hir spoke.

Oh mistresse mine, I craue no more of your wel helping hand:

Than if before the presence of hir grace, I once might stande,

To heare if shee will graunt vnto my whole desire,

Or else deny the whole contents of that I do require.

My weaknesse now decayes, my strength it comes againe,

And eke the ioyfull wordes you speake do shorten al my paine.

[Page]My liuely bloud reuiues my sprites, my pulses now do beat,

My l [...]mbs waxe strong, my breath waxe long, through force of liuely heat.

Now could I walke abrode to see that princely wight,

For whom my hart desireth so to take of hir a sight.

Content your sel [...]e (quoth shee) and set your heart at ease:

I trust to worke such meanes, that I will heale your whole disease.

Then taketh she hir leaue, and vnto Zilia goes:

Wherby she might incontinent asswage his careful woes.

And m [...]e [...]ing hir at Church, she thus to hir did speake:

Take pitty on the sillye wight that is both faint and weake:

Let hym not die remedilesse, but pitty now his case,

And from all greefe and [...]eauy cheere his hart do nowe vnlace.

Your onely presence would make glad his faint and pensiue harte,

Who for your loue in greeuous wise doth suffer heauy smarte.

[Page]It pityeth me to see him languishe in distresse,

And so long time with sighes and grones to lie remedilesse:

He sleepeth not at all, but wayleth al the night,

His sprites be gon, his bloud dryed vp, he wanteth force and might.

The pangs of death drawe nie vnlesse your ayde do come

Therefore vnto the wight opprest with cares, shew fauour some.

Then Zilia which did not before regarde his wofull greefe,

Did not relent, and purposed to shewe him some releefe.

I thought (quoth shee) this sute was done, vntill that yesterday,

A gentleman did come to me, who now as you, did say.

But seeing he is worse and worse, I wil be rulde by you:

And I wil seeke to ease his woe, for which you now do sue.

For this I knowe, your honestie and faith it is so greate:

That you will nought require of me but that which shalbe meete.

[Page]And when you shall do what you can, you naught shal win of me,

For to his fonde and folishe minde I neuer will agree.

No priuate facte I wil commit with him, this is moste sure,

Nor yet wil breake my chastitie while my life doth endure.

But shew your counsel yet in this, how shall I once deuise

To go to hym without suspect wherby no shame might rise?

I rather had to suffer death than so to get me shame,

The peo [...]le will suspect, and so I quite shal losse my name.

But rather let him come to morrow home to me,

And in a chamber here belowe, I there wil ready be.

The messenger did thank hir then, and to his chamber went,

Who then about the same did walk, whose hearte to ioyes was bent.

She did recount to him the whole the which the widowe sayde,

These tidings which to him shee told they made him well apayde▪

[Page]As when a man hath lost some iewel rich of prise,

With heauy hart and pensiue minde he doth begin to rise.

And so the iewel great he serketh rounde about,

And neuer ceaseth til that be that iewel hath found out

And when that he hath found the same vp to the skies

He lifts his hands, the ioyes wherof makes streames run downe his eyes

So Philibe [...] to now, with teares he bl [...]ts his face:

And stretching out his paineful armes the woman doth embrace.

If life he sayes you wil commaund, I will obay

By life or death, or what thing else if it please you to say.

And while that life this corps shall ful enioy and haue,

I am the knight that shall performe what thing you beg or craue.

And here I binde me to your minde, your man to bee

At all assaies▪ without delay to do that pleaseth yee.

[Page]Thus sayd, she takes hir leaue and to hir house doth go:

But he in ioy and blisse abounds before opprest with woe.

So now the pleasant dew of heauen begins to fall,

And eche man loe his rest to take perswadeth therwithal.

The siluer sky of hue, the darksome shades of night

Doth couer clean the Sun and day descended out of sight,

And glistring starr [...]s do decke the pole of heauen so hi [...],

And nature gins his rest to crane, with heauy pensiue eye.

Thus Phiiiberto then, [...]is rest to take doth go,

And wisheth that faire [...]ilia were there, so none might knowe.

He rolles, he turnes and tosseth, with dreaming often to:

One while he thinketh on his loue, an other while to do

Some pretty feat, so that he his desire might haue,

Another while he counteth on his honour for to sane.

[Page]Thus on this wise be spends and driues the night away,

Untill such time as Phoebus did his banner forth display.

At length Aurora doeth the bed of Titan flie.

And gius to shewe hir christall face about the siluer skie.

And Phoebus he him selfe, his golden head doth shewe,

Lifting him selfe from out the waues our Orison to blowe.

And with his fi [...]ry chaire is flowne into the sky,

With sunny beames, that none delights within his bed to lie.

He gladsome of the light, from out his weary bed doth rise:

And decks his selfe with trim aray after his wonted guise.

And walking vp and downe within his chamber, he

Beginneth in his minde to rolle of hir the great beauty.

And doth hir state compare to Venus comely gle [...]:

And yet within him selfe he sayes much fairer lot is shee

[Page]Than comely Didoes grace or Thisbies beautie bright,

Or Helens eke that Grecian dame so faire and princely wight.

Thus passed he the time which seemed long to him:

He euery houre did thinke a yere til he with hir had bin.

This is the force of loue, whose sting once taking place

Cannot againe recouered be in any kind of case.

Unlesse the helpe do come from them that cause the fame,

Whose eye lids shut with fansies flames they do regard no shame.

What paines would they indure for their true louers sake,

Who would their liues in hazarde put causing their foes to quake?

Achilles champion stout, what time in Troy he saw

Polixena, he did desire to be the sonne in law,

To Priamus that king in Troy of great renowne.

Sir Paris eke the worthyest knight that was in Ilyon towne,

[Page]His brother Hector saw to Greece his passage toke,

His Aunt the faire Exione within their courts to loke.

But being taken with the fiery cleauing dart

Of Helena the queene, whose sight did pierce him to the harte,

That maugre all their heads to ship the Dame he bare,

And boysing vp his sayles to Troy he gan so fare.

So if that Cupid durst these champions stout assaile:

What booted them for to resist when nought they could preuaile?

To striue against the streame is labour lost in vaine,

The more he striues, the more increasth his dolour and his paine.

The noble Pyramus him selfe for Thisby slue,

Bycause he thought that he was cause of breaking faith so true.

Thus if these did as here ful oft we haue heard say,

For to preuent this loue we ought not once to giue assay.

[Page]This knight did tast the same as wel his pangs did shewe,

The fiery dart of Cupids bow [...] his senses perced so.

But now the long de [...]ired houre is come that he must goe,

S [...]ee looketh and abides for him within the rome belowe.

Now comming to the wished place of his beloued dame,

He thought not on his for ner greefes, which he abode with paine.

Hir vnkinde wordes were quite forgot, his minde was bent to ioy:

The torments whic [...] he felt before, his hart did not anoy.

T [...]us entring in the place which shee appointed had,

She there in place in comely wise with vestures faire was clad.

When she did him espie accompanied with hir mayde,

With simple cheere and welcome colde, on this wise to him sayde

With fayned ioy, which moued not his hart: I see (quoth she)

Your late disease was not so ill as it was tolde to mee,

[Page]For now the good e [...]tate and helth that you possesse,

Doth make me iudge the contrary, and so I truely gesse.

The which henceforth shall make me iudge the greefe that men endure,

Is onely through t [...]eir fayned woes, the thing for to allure

The which their heart desires, they hauing then their wil,

No longer doe regarde the same but wil detest it stil.

To loking glasses therefore, I do mak [...] them equal here,

Which al be it they make [...]xcesse, of present things to appere,

Yet when the thing once seene doth passe, and vanishe quite away,

The fourmes out of our memory, do likewise go astray.

I [...] madame, answered hee, how easy a thing it is,

The greeslesse wight to counterfaite both ioyes and fained blisse,

Which only the conceit may not that moues h [...]s minde detest,

But the obiect must bide in him as painted in his brest:

[Page]Whiche to a glasse may [...]ikened be, I meane not such a one

As fayned shapes presented there, so quickly shoul [...] be gone,

Without the leauing of the trace of some i [...]prin [...]ed marke

Within the minde of him, which shape stands stedfast in his harte.

Then in the mirrour which through cause of hidden might

Is ardent, haue I seene a shape which is my whole delight.

It wrought within my hart. with feruent burning heate,

Which boyling in my tender brest my corps it made to sweate.

Oh madame thinke not then I f [...]ined my disease,

Still thinking and deuising both how I your grace might please.

I therefore count my sel [...]e as whole, obaying still your minde:

To run or ride where so you please you shall me ready finde.

I nought esteeme the same (quoth she) you nought at all shal neede

To take such trauaile for my sake, leaue off therefore with speede

[Page]Your folish wordes, and talke no more of such fond things to me:

Your manners with your comely state, they do not well agree.

O dame haue you determined for to torment me so,

To bring againe the pangs of death, to double eke my woe:

Who will [...]ng is to sacrifice his body for your sake,

If once into my seruice, you would him vouchsafe to take?

It greeueth mee to see your heauenly beauty neat,

To make a profe of crueltie, so horrible and great.

What? do you thinke and still conceiue, that I my greefe do fayne?

And do you stil coniecture, that I vse dissembled paine,

Alacke the teares which I haue s [...]ed, the losse of lust to eate,

The weary night, the sleepelesse lims, not able skant to speake,

May well assure my loyal hart is better worthy prayse

Than you esteeme: seeke not O Dame therfore to short my dayes.

[Page]He then beholding hir to fixe hir eyes vpon the ground:

He thought that he some fauour had before his Lady found.

And thinking he the heart had woon of hir beloued grace,

He suffred teares to trickle downe, alongs his blubbred face.

He thus his talke did prosecute: Oh faire and gentle dame,

Would you with rage and furie fell your beautie so bestaine?

As seeke the death of him who loueth you so well:

And thinkes amids the troupe of dames, you only heare the Bell?

This widowe, whether she did not delite to heare him speake:

Or rather doubted in the ende hir c [...]astitie to breake:

Through his complaint & wayling cheere, least be a breache should make,

For to preuent the same, therfore with egre wordes she speake:

You now haue talkt inough, by wordes and writings eke:

And for to breake my chastitie you practise stil and seeke:

[Page]I hitherto haue suffred you my patience to abuse:

And yet the longer that you talke, the more you me misuse.

I shewde that kindnesse vnto you, which they do not deserue,

That would the chast life breake of those that minde it to preserue.

You euitate with sugred wordes, my person to beguile,

But yet I wel inough perceiue your craft and subtil wile.

You would depriue me of the thing which you can not restore:

With faltring wordes and wily wayes, stil seeking more and more.

Which shall henceforth a warning be, about my selfe to loke,

And to despise those chaunting charmes of the Enchaunters hooke:

Least I by opening still mine eare to such fond talke as yours:

Be not at length helde fast therin, and bide while life endures.

For to conclude, I you desire to ende this finall talke,

To moue the same to me no more but hence away to walke.

[Page]For by my Faith, no fauor more to you I minde to showe,

Than I haue done, therefore of this now let vs haue no moe:

And if that you do still proceede, this follie to maintaine,

I will with speede to your great harme, redresse seeke for the same.

Content your s [...]lfe ther [...]fore, my minde for thus it is:

For of these things which I haue spoke, nought shall be done amisse.

This lucklesse man, when he had heard this sentence, straight was mute:

Pretending with this wilful dame, no longer to dispute.

And then stoode st [...]ll like to a Saint that was both deafe and dumme:

His sprites agast to mummers like, which nothing say but mumme.

At length he set dispaire aside, his senses came agayne:

He spake to hir with little cheere, abiding greefe and paine.

Sith it is so, Oh Ladie faire, you take from me all hope,

And sith of your meere curtesie, I shal not get on sope.

[Page]And sith that from your presence now, I ne [...]des must hence depart,

Who of al wights that are on liue, are n [...]xt vnto my hart:

Whose eyes perchaunce shall neuer see, your person once againe:

But languishe in distresse and greefe, and so to die in paine.

Denie not this my whole request, which I to you do tell:

But yelde a kisse now for a [...]ledge, of this our last farewel.

In s [...]cr [...]te nothing I demaunde, but which you may fulfil,

In open wise, and yet your name you neede not for to s [...]ill.

This is the whole request that I of you desire:

Performe the same therefore, O Dame, which I of you require.

Let all my paynes and greef [...]s, some recompence obtaine,

The same of you I now desire, which are the guid of gaine.

The spiteful dame enuironed with rage and cruell spite,

Spake thus to him, whose tormēts were to hir a great delite.

[Page]I [...]treight will see if that the loue you vaunt to beare to me,

Wherein you stand so steadfastly, if that it stable be.

Ah madame (sayd the louer then) the word do once but speake.

Then shal you see how circumspect I am the same to keepe.

Yea though I should bestow my life your hest for to fulfil,

I neuer would disclose the same, but keepe your secrets still.

You then shal haue the kisse quoth she, which of me you desire:

If you will sweare to do the same that I of you require.

The wilful louer then did say, I witnesse God do make,

I [...]il not leaue one iote vndone, of that I vndertake.

He vowing with affection great his true and plighted faith:

His whole req [...]st and his desire hee now shal haue (she sayth.)

And saying so, she did embrace that louely corpse of his:

In lou [...]ng wise vppon hir lips, he doubled kisse on kisse.

[Page]This man not knowing with what price he now had bought the kisse,

He helde hir still betweene his armes, as one in heauenlye blisse.

And be thus still embracing hir, he thought his soule did flie

Up to the heauens, remayning stil about the starrie skie.

The poysned Balme which he did sucke out of hir sugred breath,

Did ioy his heart so much, that he did not esteeme of death.

She parting then his armes, to him she thus did speake:

You must kepe trouth as I haue done, and not your statute breake,

Which is, that in three yeares you to no wight do speake,

For this nor that, in any wise my statute do not breake,

For if that you so do, no wight for your sake I will trust:

But I wil compte you stil a man periured and vniust.

But certes now I leaue to you this storie that do heare:

And if this straunge request would not, put any man in feare.

[Page]He was yet so religious, so stoute of heart withall:

That he would keepe and subiect be, to that hir cruell thral.

He th [...]n began to play the part of mem which do seeme dum,

I l [...]e the mum [...]ers at mum chaunce by signes he crieth mum,

And sh [...]w [...]s [...]y tokens, that [...]ir heast he would obay:

And doing re [...]erence to hir, he gets [...]im selfe away,

And fained he had lost hys speech, by meanes he burst some vaine,

Wherby the Rheume or Cata [...], dyd distil from out his braine.

He setting stay for his affaires, prouiding for his traine.

He made him ready to departe to France for al his paine.

Which for the pleasant aire, all Countreys doth excel:

For wealth and plenty of all things it only heares the bel.

But yet before he went, a [...]tter he did write

To Zilia, with cunning skill the same he did endite.

[Page]He gaue it to a Page, to hir the same to beare:

Shee tooke the same, and brake the seale, and red as you shal heare.

¶ The Letter sent by Philiberto Lord of Virle, to ZILIA vvidovv.

THe roaring tempest huge, which thou hast made me felt:

The raging stormes, wherof as now well neere my hart hath swelt,

By paineful panges, whose waltring waues, by thicke and troubled Skies,

And thousands blastes of raging windes, that in those seas do rise

Do promise shipwracke sure, of that thy sayling barke:

VVhen after weather cleare, doth rise some tempest foule and darke.

For either I or thou, which art of Tigres kinde,

In that great storme and raging gulfe, some danger sure shal finde.

[Page]Of that thy nature rude, the destinies foes they bee:

And thy great ouerthrow full wel they all the same foresee.

The heauens vnto my estate no doubt great friendship shew,

They do deuise alwaies to ende and finish all my woe.

The penaunce which I beare, by yelding to thy hest,

Great store of ioyes shal heape to m [...], and bring my minde to rest.

And when I am at ease, amids my pleasant haps,

Then I do trust to see thee fal, and snarld in fortunes traps.

Then shall I see thee ban and curse the wreked time,

VVherin thou madest me to gulpe such draught of poisned wine.

By which thy mortall cup I am the offred wight,

And eke a vowed sacrifice to that thy cruel spite.

VVherfore my hoping heart doth hope to see the day,

That thou for this thy silence now, to me shalt be the praie.

[Page]O blessed God most iust, (whose worthie laude and praise,

VVith vttred speech in skies aloft, I dare not once to raise:

And may not well pronounce what s [...]ffaance I sustaine:

Ne yet what death I do endure, whiles I in life remaine.)

Take vengeaunce on that traytresse rude, afflict hir corpse with woe:

Thy holie arme redresse hir fault, that she no more do so:

My reason hath not so farre straide, but I may hope and trust,

To see hir for hir wickednesse be whipt with plague most iust.

In the meane while great heauynesse my sense and soule doth bite:

And shaking feuer vex my corpse, for greefe of hir dispite.

My minde now set at libertie from thee (O cruell dame)

Doth giue defiance to thy wrathe, and to thy curssed name,

Proclaiming mortal warre on thee, vntil my tong vntide,

Shall ioy to speake to Zilia, fast weeping by my side.

[Page]The heauens forbid that causelesse wrong, abrode should make his v [...]u [...]t:

Or that an vndefiled death forgetful Tombe shoulde haunte.

But that in written booke and verse, their names should euer liue:

And eke their wretched deedes should die, and vertues stil reuiue.

So shall▪ he pride and glory both, of hir be punisht right,

By le [...]gth [...]f ye [...]res, and tract of time, and I by v [...]rt [...]es might,

Full recompence shal haue and stande still in good fame:

And she like catiue wretch shall liue to h [...] long lasting shame.

VVhose f [...]nde re [...]arde of beauties grace, contemned hath the force

Of my true [...]aue full fixt in hir: hir hart voide of remorse,

Esteemde it self [...] right foolishly, and me abused st [...]l,

Vsurping my good honest faith, and credite at hir will.

VVhose l [...]yal f [...]ith doth rest in soule, and stil therein shall bide

Vntill in stincking filthy graue, the earth my corpse shal hide.

[Page]Then shal the soule fraught with that faith, to heauens make repayre,

And rest among the heauenly [...]our, bedeckt with sacred aire.

And thou for thy great crueltie, as God aboue doth knowe,

VVith ruful voyce shalt weepe and waile, for thy great ouerthrowe.

And when thou wouldest purge thy selfe, for that thy wretched deede:

No kindnesse shall to thee be done, extreeme shal be thy meede.

And where my [...]ong doth want at will thy mischeefe to display:

My hand and pen supply the place, and shall do so alway.

For so thou hast constrained me by force of thy be [...]est:

In silence stil my [...]ong to keepe, t'accomplish thy request.

A dew, f [...]rewel my tormenter, thy foe that is ful mute,

Doth bid thee farewel once againe, and thus he endes his sute.

He that liueth only to be reuenged of thy cruelti [...]. Signior PHILIBERTO. Lord of VIRLE.

[Page]SHee then disdaining al his wordes, made therof but a iest:

She did reioyce to see the woe, of that hir careful guest.

But let vs leaue hir, and to him let vs returne againe,

Who iorneyd to ye coast of France, leauing his spiteful dame.

Wher Charles the seuenth thē did raigne, a Noble man in warre,

Whose warlike deedes & prowesse great, extended very farre.

He chased out of all his lande, by force the English rout,

Whose army then in Gascoigne lay, the coast of France about.

And fortune fauored so that wight, that he did ouercome

That nation fierce, and with his hoast their campe did ouerrun.

He mouing then to Normandie his campe, that towne to win,

The which through force the English train to holde, did then begin,

And viewing there this Lord of Virle repayred therunto.

To serue the king at all assayes, his prowesse eke to shewe,

[Page]Whose person of the Captaines of this king was wel knowne,

Through dint of sweard, and māly might his fame was largely sowne.

They sorowed much to see him dumme, that wight they loued so:

But they with him incontinent vnto their king do go,

Presenting him vnto his grace, commending eke his state:

Who for his vertue, force and might, they sayde he had no mate.

He doing homage to the king, by signes he did declare,

That for naught else, but him to serue he thither did repayre.

He bearing this, did him embrace, and did in heart reioyce:

For that to praise this Noble knight, he heard his Captaine [...] voyce.

In state he was so comely dight, that else it could not bee,

But with his state his manly force therewith should wel agree.

Which he ful well did surely shewe, when Roane he did beslege:

The fortresse cheefe in Normandie, to please his Noble leege.

[Page]He mounted first vpon the walles, and made an open breache:

That all his hoast, the English rout might with their weapons reach.

And thus through force they draue them forth through mighty stroke of hand.

Sith that their guide of wisedome such was ruler of the bande.

W [...]en newes came to the king his grace, of this his noble knight,

And how he all the English host through force had put to flight,

Oh so he did reioyce in hart, that he had such a wight,

Within his court, whose dint of sweard, would put his foes to flight.

To recompence duely with gift, he minded then his payne,

And did appoint, that chiefly he, should be his chamberlaine.

He gaue to him a pension great, for to extol his name,

And would continue still he sayde, for to encrease the same,

If he did see him prosecute hys deedes as he begoon,

And venter stil such enterprise as he before had done.

[Page]This dumbe and speachlesse gentleman gaue thanks vnto the king:

And to the skies to lift his hands, he did in place begin.

Protesting that he would indure. as long as life should last:

And rather than he would go backe of Orcus he would taste.

His signes did much reioyce the king and all his Noble rout,

To see his faith and vowed plights, his courage strong and stoute.

Thus liued he in great renoune, whose prayse extended farre:

For that his forte and manly might he did shewe forth in warre.

But beeing long in peace and rest, a Iust the king did crie,

For to reioyce the Noble knights that long in peace did lie.

He viewing then the warlike deedes of this victorious Knight:

To see his courage and his force, it did him much delight.

But then againe, his pensiue heart it did molest and greeue:

To see that wight without his speeche, which might his sentence giue

[Page]In matters that belong vnto his common wealth,

Whose counsel graue, would much auaile to keepe his peoples health.

And musing thus, he straight did cause a trumpet to be blowne,

Which through al his dominions in short time it was sowne:

Proclaiming who could wel restore that persons speech againe,

Ten thousand frankes in ready gold, he should haue for his pain [...].

There one mig [...]t see the thr [...]ging heapes of these Chirurgian sort,

Who for to helpe this noble Lord did thither then resorte.

But th [...]s edict the King set forth, that he which durst be bold

To cure the same, and could not ende, should forfait al that gold.

Or if so be he could not pay the summe, his life should leese:

When this they heard, they al in troupes did flee away as Geese.

This babbling fame was spred so much, this brute so farre was blowne,

That at the length the same it was well knowne in Thurin towne,

[Page]And passed stil from mouth to mouth, til at the length it came

Unto the widowes eare, and shee did like well of the same,

For that she sawe his constant trouth which he to hir did plight:

His perfect faith and stedfast loue hir hart did much delight.

Shee likewise hearing all the summe which they should duely take,

By any meanes or practise straunge, this Knight to speake could make.

She did deuise immediatly, that shee this gold might gain,

To wend to France, and [...]o restore to him his speach againe.

Shee thought those passions stil that he did suffer as before:

She thought his loue redoubled was, still dayly more and more.

She thought not on the letter which [...] for his farewel he sent:

And though shee did, shee still did thinke, that no such thing he ment.

Wherefore she would incontinent to Paris take hir way,

And til shee came againe, all things at home shee set in stay.

[Page]Not caring for to see hir loue, but to get praise and thankes:

And causing him to speake, she should obtaine ten thousande frankes.

Which she to haue already thought, therof shee made accompt:

Thus thinking still, and sure thereof, on horsebacke shee doth mount.

Thus may you playnely see, that shee, whom honest loue

And [...]eruice long could not induce, did streightway minde to proue

Gre [...]t riches to obtaine: whom pi [...]y could not moue,

But vnder coloure to attaine this gold, she fained loue.

Oh fond desire of worldly mucke how long thus wilt thou blinde

The reason both and sprites of men, and bring them so behinde?

Oh rag [...]ng gulfe, how many wights thy yauning throte hath drunke.

Who with thy lures, and fond procures, in endlesse hell haue sunke,

Whose prayse had passed far the cloudes in brightnesse like the Sunne,

If they had sought in warely wise thy su [...]tle wayes to shunne.

[Page]Alas, thy frutes are nothing worth, the w [...]ich thou bringest forth:

The pleasures which thou sowest abrode, I say be nothing worth.

Oh that thy vice should so take place, that men thou shouldest blinde:

No ioyes at all they do conduce the which inioy the same,

But at the length through greedy minde it doth increase their shame.

For still the dropsie lyeth hid wythin their heart and minde,

The more they drinke, the more they still the thirst therof do finde.

This vice sometime did cause the death of Romaine Croessus King

Whose greedie minde I say againe him to his death did bring.

Who through gods threatning punishmēt fell in the Persians hands:

And like a wretche be ended there his life in cruell bandes.

What should I speake of many moe, the time it would prolong?

It doth not wel become my pen still for to sing one song.

But now to widowe Zilia againe let vs returne,

[Page]Who blinded with dame Auarice, hir heart like sire did burne.

Thus passing through the Mountains hie, in France she did arriue:

The pleasant soyle that there, she saw, hir sprites did much reuiue.

When she came there, she did enquire who had the charge of those

That tooke on them to heale the Lorde, to them she streight way goes.

Who when they came, they askt of hir if she durst be so bolde

To take on hir the cure of him: which she did say she would.

You knowe (sayd they) the forfeytures which they shall forfeyt still:

That is to say, the summe of gold or else their life to spill.

All this I knowe (quoth shee) wherfore shee them requires

That she might see the patient, that so hir heart desires.

For God a certaine secret straunge, reuealed hath to mee.

That I do trust ere sixe dayes passe, so speake you shall him see.

This furthermore they also adde, if fiftene dayes are past,

[Page]And he not speake wythin that time, the wager it was lost.

Shee did submit hir selfe to all, still thinking that she had

Like power ouer the Lord of Virle, which still did make hir glad.

The deputies with all speede wend to aduertise the Knight,

And of his new Phisition to him they do recite,

How that there as a woman come, that render will his speeche:

And in sixe dayes in paine of life, wyl helpe their Noble leeche.

These sodaine wordes did mase him much, but yet he neuer thought

That Zilia, to procure his health by any wayes had sought.

He thought that Zilia neuer would to him beare such good will,

As to procure his health againe, his life but rather spill.

Thus musing, still he standes, not knowing what to say,

But yet at length this widowe faire to him shee tooke hir way:

Shee came in place where as he was, hir patient for to see,

[Page]But when he sawe hir entred in, implete with wrath was hee:

He deemed straight that money was the cause of hir repayre,

Hir smiling grace he set nought by, nor yet hir lookes so faire.

He calling to his minde hir rage, and all the cruell wo

Which she did cause him to sustaine, his body bringing lowe

With pining sighes and greefes, esteeming not his care,

But to torment his silly corpse with rigor did not spare:

The like he minded then to shewe to hir aga [...]ne,

And to molest hir froward cor se, with such like greefe and paine.

Not shewing fauour more to hir, than shee to him,

But still hir foe for to endure, as shee his foe had bin.

His former loue was turnd to rage, hys friendship into ire,

His heart to choller so was changde, that it did burne like fire.

But in his chamber seeing hir, he fained not to knowe

[Page]Hir person, nor hir great estate: he thought best so to do.

This ma [...]e the widowe sore agast, she knew not what to say,

Hir senses left their wonted vse, hir sprites were gone away.

But calling to hir memory in what straunge place she stoode,

To make of neede a vertue then, shee thought it very good.

From whence she could not well depart without the losse of life:

Or cast hir honor in the dust, vnlesse she were his wife.

Wherefore shee minded for to trie dame Fortunes turning wheele,

And thus shee speake vnto the Knight, hir heart as hard as steele.

What is the cause O knight you doe not hir esteeme,

Who thought the time to be full long ere that she had you seene?

And doe you nowe set nothing by, the wight that lones you so?

Who as you sayde, did guide your heart where so euer you did go?

Haue you so soone forgotten hir that was your only ioy?

[Page]Be all your former pleasures now, conuerted to annoy?

Looke better once againe, beholde your humble wight:

Do not estraunge your selfe from me, worke not so great dispight.

Forgiue me now my former faults which once I did commit:

Your former greefes which I did cause, out of your heart let slip.

I am the wight that tyde your tongue, now let me loose the same:

And for the first inuented wrong, no more repute the blame.

Shee seeing then this Gentleman woulde nothing say but mumme,

Shee curst within hir heart, the houre wherin she made him dumme.

He did declare by outward signes that he coulde nothing speake,

The trickling teares then sodenly out from hir eyes do breake.

Shee then with armes embracing him, his lippes did kisse full oft,

And in hir heart for present aide des [...]res the Gods aloft

But he which once with sugred words did seeke hir for to please,

[Page]He now inuents all kinde of wayes hir person to displease.

Hir cares now vnto him be ioy, hir greefes do glad his heart,

Hir sobs and signes do cheere his minde, all c [...]res he sets apart.

All hir wordes do not auaile, hir plaints do profite nought:

Now is shee quite discouraged of that thing which she sought.

He waked once againe by hir which once had slaine his minde:

Th [...] thing w [...]ich seemed long asleepe, he did assay to finde.

Shee more for feare of losse of life, or price of the rewarde,

Entending by all kind of wayes, hir life for to sauegarde,

Than for the true and earnest loue which she to him did heare,

Did suffer him to haue of hir, that louers do desire:

Thus for the space of fiftene dayes, they liued in great ioy:

But yet hir friend would nothing speake, which did hir much anoy.

Shee humbly prayed him to shewe, some fauor to hir state,

[Page]Protesting still while life doth last for to become his mate.

Or that shee might goe free [...]rom either losse at hand,

And she would stand as truest friend, that was in all that land.

This gay and lowly talke, she had, to moue the Knight,

But not, as ye, mo fauour shee could finde before his si [...]ht.

At length the king, when that he sawe this patient would not speake,

He did commit her to the Iayle in prison fast to keepe,

That either shee should pay the summe, or else hir lyfe shoulde lose:

When this shee heard, to sobs and teares hir selfe shee doth dispose.

How bitter seemed this same drinke, let al men beare away,

Who prest with paine on euery side, began thus for to say:

Ah captiue wight that wen [...]st about, an other to deceaue,

Hast sharpened now the vital sworde, thy life for to bereaue.

Did it not well inough suffise for to deceiue my foe?

[Page]But all entangled in his snares, must breede my careful wo.

My fame he doth so much dispoile, that euery one doth mocke

My state, to all so I shall be a common laughing stocke.

What hap had I that I was not deuoured of some beaste,

Which in the woodes and hils, I past, do take their common rest?

Oh what mischance had I that I brake not my necke,

In tumbling downe the steepie hils and so my selfe to wrecke,

Than heere to stande a gazing stocke to them that this way passe,

And on a stage to all mens eyes a common loking glasse.

But this, O god, is due rewarde for mine vngodly life.

My hart so fierce in crueltie delighting still in strife.

The Knight contented with hir plaints, esteeming not hir greefe,

Yet at the length constrained was to get hir some releefe.

Hir teares did so bedew hir face that he some pitie tooke:

[Page]The Christall drops r [...]n downe hir cheekes as from a water broo [...]e.

He more did waile and c [...]e hir case, than she hir louers did:

Which argued, much a gentle heart within his brest was hid.

He the [...] repayred to the King, deliting slanders by,

Who [...]hen to heare him speake, on throgs they do [...] approche him nie.

He vtters then before the King, the whole discourse of loue

Which he did beare to Zilia, as is rehearst aboue,

And how also shee was the cause that he his speache di [...] lose,

But now reui [...]de againe by hir whose heart with greefe it flowes.

Wherefore yet now O king (quoth he) this one thing let me craue:

That though she haue deserued death, hir pardon let hir haue.

The king thē speakes: your whole request you certes shall obtaine,

Although this widow do deserue to suffer greeuous paine.

Your most faithfull and gentle heart deserueth no lesse prayse,

[Page]Than hir ill deedes do merite paine, whose shame will last alwayes.

Shee then likewise contented was, a [...]d he to wife hir tooke:

He loued hir, shee him likewyse, till death them twaine forsooke.

FINIS.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

¶ A discourse of the great crueltie of a Widowe towardes a yong Gentleman, and by what meanes he requited the same. Set forth in English Verse by Iohn God.

First read and then iudge, but ere thou begin

Despise not the matter conteined herein,

Though rude be my stile, & knowledge be scant,

Yet of the matter there nothing doth want

Imprinted at London, by Henrie Binneman, dwelling in Knightriders streat, at the signe of the Marmayd.

LECTORI.

[Page]

I Incipe nec sistes totum percurre libellum:

O Omnia lecta docent, quae, nisi lecta iuuāt?

A Ars docet, et veterū te lectio cūcta docebit,

N Nulla tibi virtus clarior esse potest.

N Nāc [...]pi [...] à lectu, metu quod honestat acumē,

E Electu vitae est pa [...]ta diurna salus.

S Salq cibos condit, sic condit maxima vitae

G Gaudia, non spa [...]so lectio iusta sale.

O Optima si cupias acquirere mella, studet [...],

D Disce loborosos voluere quaeso libros.

D Disce puella precor, fuge, quod mea chartula narrat.

V Vt melius possis imperitare viro.

S Sed mendicanti da praemia quaeso libell [...]

Sic meliora queo, sit meliora dab [...].

The Prefac [...] to the Reader.

[Page]

MArk gentle reader, in this little tr [...]atis, both fonde and affectionate loue, the one proceeding from a loyall and gentle hear [...]e, rather decked with ve [...]tue, than follie, I say rath [...]r adorned, & beautified with Venus mild and gentle behauiour, than enuironned with the deadly and spitefull rage of uno: the other from a disdainefull and loths [...]me stomacke puffed vp with too muche superstition, vnder the coloure of mecke humilitie. with vainglorie, vnder the shadowe of constancie: with disdaine, vnder the pretence of perfect and sounde chastitie. They that haue passed the most part of their time in humaine follies, and haue rather foll [...]wed the vanities of fooles and insensuate louers in matters of loue (and the contemplation of heau [...]nlie things, or else of those that here on earth may giue some entrie for man to attaine glory and honour of his name) they I say shall serue mee [Page] for witnesses to confirme the opinion of long time rooted in the fansies of men, which is, that the beautie & comely fauour of a woman is the most true and natural Adaman [...] that can be found, sith the same stone (for a certaine attractiue power and agreable qualitie therin enclosed) doth not better draw the iron, than a woman doth by a certaine hidden force, whiche rysing vnder the allurement of hir, draweth vnto it the heartes and affections of men, which hath made manie beleeue, that the same only essence was sent to vs belowe to serue bothe for mennes torment and ioy togither. But yet there is another thing of greater wonder, it is not to heare tell that Paris forsooke, Troy to go visite Helena in Grece, that Hercules had giuē ouer his mace to handle the distaffe at the commaundement of a woman, or that Salomon was s [...]tted in his wisdome to dallie with those which made him a voluntarie slaue. But that a woman of whom a man had receiued no fauour nor curtesie, had forgotten hir duetie to hir seruaunt, if it seeme not straunge, I knowe not what to call wonderfull or maruellous. If defence of speeche for loue, is not deemed suche whereby man is different from brute beastes: (for reason is altogither r [...]fuse [...] of [...]o [...]ers) and notwithstā ding [Page] our Fathers haue seene the example of that vertue no long time paste in the person of a Gentleman, verie wise and wel trained vp in other thinges, a case so straunge, as declaring the singular force of nature in that matter, wherein shee seemeth to haue giuen the preferment aboue all things in the earth. Examples hereof is the effemination of Hercules, the depriuation of Sampsons force, the losse of sense, and the Idelatrie of the famous and wise King Salomon, and the simplicitie of a warelesse & vncircumspecte Gentleman, of whome yee shall reade in the Historie following. Marke I say, (gentle Reader) howe fortune dealeth with them, which trusting in their force, despise (in respect of that whiche they doe them selues) the little portion whiche they iudged to bee in others. If the vaineglorie and arrogant presumption of a chastitie impregnable, had not deceiued the Gentlewomanne following in this Treatise, if the sugred hunger of golde had not blinded hir, it coulde not haue bin knowne wherein hir inconstancie consisted, not in the minion delites and alluring toyes of a passionate Louer, but in the couetous desire of filling hir purse, and hypocriticall glorye of praise a [...]ngs [Page] menne: Notwithstanding, you shall see the gaine whiche shee made; to serue hir turne nothing at all, but to the perpetuall reproche of hir name, and raysed a slaunder, suche as ill speakers and enimies of womenkinde do burden that sex withall. But the fault of one whiche by hir owne presumption disceiued hir selfe, ought not to obscure the glorie of so manye vertuous, faire, and honest dames, who by their chastitie, liberalitie and curtesie, bee able too deface the blot of follie, couetousnesse, and crueltie of this Gentlewoman heere, and of all other that doe resemble hir: notwithstanding in the ende reconciling hir selfe, and abhorring the foolishe fantasie of hir former life, with an ordinarie greefe of him whiche serued hir for a spurre too hir conscience, and continually forced hir too thinke, that the force of a man is lesse than nothing where God work [...]th not by his grace, who failing in vs, our wo [...]kes can sauor but of the stenche and corruption of our nature, wherein it tumbleth and tosseth as the sow in the puddles of dirt and mire. This breefe discourse giueth lessons vnto Louers to auoide the imm [...]derate pangues of loue, it doth [...] the indiscretion of promised penaunce, [Page] it warneth to beware all [...] heastes, least the penalties of couetous [...] and vaineglory be incurred, whiche shall manifest it selfe, if you marke the sense thereof in Reading. And that the same might the more delighte thee, I haue turned it into simple verse, according as my capacitie woulde serue, but notwithstanding take it in worth, which I know to be full of errors, and not so eloquent as you require, nor so delectable as I wold desire. Thus greeting thee, I bid thee farewell.

§

§

[...]rinted at London by Henr Binneman, dwelling in Knightrider Streatt at the Signe of the Mermaid.

Information about this book

Title statement

A discourse of the great crueltie of a widowe towardes a yong gentleman, and by what meanes he requited the same. Set forth in English verse by Iohn God

God, John.

Edition statement

1570

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2005-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A01792

ID [STC]

STC 11927

ID [STC]

ESTC S105738

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99841464

ID [PROQUEST]

99841464

ID [VID]

6049

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Early English books online.

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A01792)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 6049)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 344:03)

Source

— A discourse of the great crueltie of a widowe towardes a yong gentleman, and by what meanes he requited the same. Set forth in English verse by Iohn God, God, John..

Extent

[80] p.

By Henrie Binneman, dwelling in Knightriders streat, at the signe of the Marmayd,. Imprinted at London :: [1570]. (In verse.) (Publication date from STC.) (Signatures: A-E.) (Running title reads: The crueltie of a widowe towards a gentleman.) (The colophon is printed in civilité.) (Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

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