Chapter 2

How mayst thou now so cruelly and so narowe Witħ oute cause hurte me and wounde And takest none hede my sorowes to founde But liche a birde that fleetħ at her desire Tyl sodeynly witħyn the pantere She is caught thaugħ late she was at large Anewe tempest forcastetħ now my barge Now vp now doun, witħ wynd it is so blowe So am I possed and almost ouerthrowe For dryue in derknes of many sondry wawe Alas whan shal this tempest ouerdrawe To clere the skyes of myn aduersite The lode sterre whan that I ne may see Hit is so hid witħ clowdes that be blake Alas whan wyƚƚ this torment ouerslake I can not wyte, for who is hurt of newe And bledetħ inward til he wex pale of hue And hatħ his wound vnwarly fressħ & grene And hit is not couthe vnto the harmes kene Of myghty cupyde that can so hertes daunte That no man may in his warre hym vaunte To gete a pryce but only by mekenes For ther ne hayletħ stryf ne sturdynes

So may I sayne that witħ a loke am yolde And haue no power to stryue thaugħ I wolde Thus stonde I euer betwix lif and detħ To loue and serue whyle I haue bretħ In suche a place where I dar not pleyne Liche hym that is in torment and in peyne And knowetħ not to whom to discure For ther that I haue holly set my aire I dar not wel for drede ne for daunger And for vnknowen tellen how the fyre Of loues bronde is kyndlid in my breste Thus am I murdred and slayn atte leste So priuely witħyn my thought O lady venus whom I haue sought So wysse me now what me is best to doo That am distraught witħ my self so That I ne wote what way for to torne Sauf by my self soleyn for to morne Hangyng in balance betwix hope and drede Witħ oute comfort remedye or rede For hope biddetħ pursue and assaye And agaynward drede answertħ naye And now witħ hope I am set a lofte

But drede and daunger hard & nothyng softe Hatħ ouerthrowe my trust and put a doun Now at my large, now fetred in prisoun Now in torment, now in souerayn glorye Now in paradyse and now in purgatorye As man dispayred in a double were Born vp witħ hope, and theñe anon daunger Me drawetħ aback, and saitħ it shal not be For where as I of myne aduersite Am bolde somwhyle mercy to requyre Thenne cometħ dispair & gynnetħ me to lere A newe lesson to hope ful the contrary They be so diuerse they wil do me varye And thus I stand dismayed in a traunce For whan that hope were likly me tauaunce For drede I tremble & dar one word not speke And yf hit so be, that I not out breke To telle the harmes that greuen me so sore But in my self encrece them more and more And to be slayn fully me delyte When of my detħ she is nothing to wyte For but yf she my constreynt plainly knewe How shold she euer, on my peynes rue

Thus oft tyme witħ hope I am meuyd To tel her aƚƚ, how I am greuyd And to be hardy on me for to take To axe mercy, but drede dotħ me theñe awake And than wanhop answertħ me agayn That better were than she haue disdayn To dye attones vnknowe of ony wight And ther witħ aƚƚ biddetħ hope anon right Me, to be bold and prayen her of grace And fitħ alle vertues be portreyd in her face Hit were not sittyng, that pyte were behynde And right anon witħyn my self I fynde A newe plee brought on me witħ drede That me so masetħ that I see no spede Be cause he saitħ that stonyetħ al my blood I am so symple and she is so good Thus hope & drede in me wyl not sece To plete and stryue my harmys to encrece But at hardest yet or I be dede Of my distresse sitħ I can no rede But stande dom̄ styl as ony stone To fore the goddesse I wil me haste anoñ And compleyne witħ oute more sermoñ

Thougħ detħ be fyn and ful conclusion Of my request, yet I wyl assaye And right anon me thought I saye This woful man as I haue memorye Ful lowly entre in to an oratorye And knelid a doun in ful humble wyse To fore the goddesse and gan anon deuyse His pitous quarel witħ a doleful chere Sayng right this as ye shaƚƚ here

.The compleynt of the man.

Redresse of sorow O Citherea That witħ the stremys of thy playsaunt hete Gladest the mounte of al Cirrea Where thou hast chosen thy paleys and sete Whos bright beames ben wesshen and wete In the ryuer of Elycon the welle Haue now pyte of that I shal you telle

And not desdayne ye of your benygnyte My mortal woo O lady myn goddesse Of grace and bounte & mercyful pyte Benygnely to helpe and to redresse And thaugħ so be I can not wel expresse The greuous harmes that I fele in my herte Haue neuer yet the lesse mercy of my smerte

This is to sayne O cler heuenes light That next the sonne sercled han your spere Sitħ ye me hurte witħ your dredful myght By influence of your beames clere And that I by your seruyse now so dere As ye me brought in to this maladye Be ye gracyous and shape ye remedye

For in you hoolly lietħ help of al this caas And knowe best my sorow and al my peyne For drede of detħ, how I ne dar allas To aren mercy ones, ne me compleyne Now witħ your fyre her hert so constrayne Witħ oute more, or I deye atte leste That she may witte what is my request

How I no thyng in al this world desire But for to serur fully to myn ende That goodly freshe so womanly of chere Witħout chaunge whyle I haue lyf & mynde And that ye wold suche grace sende Of my seruyse that she not disdeyne Sithen her to serue I may not me restreyne

And sitħ that hope me hatħ yeue hardynes To loue her best and neuer to repente Whylis that I lyue witħ al my besynes To drede & serue, thaugħ daunger neuer assente And here vpon ye knowe myn entente How I haue vowed fully in myn mynde To ben her man, thaugħ I no mercy fynde

For in my hert emprynted is so sore Her shap her forme & al her semelynes Her porte her chere, her godenes more & more Her womanhed and eke her gentiles Her troutħ, her faitħ and her kyndnes Witħ alle vertues eche set in her degre Ther is no lack, sauyng only of pyte

Her sad demenyng of wyl not variable Of loke benygne, and rote of al plesance And exemplayre to alle that wyl be stable Discrete prudent of wisedom suffisance Mirrour of witte ground of gouernance A world of beaute compassed in her face Whos persant loke doth thurgħ my hert race

And ouer this wonder secrete and true A wel of fredome and right bounteous And euer encrecyng in vertu new & newe Of speche goodly, and wonder gracyous Deuoyd of pryde, to poure not despytous And yf that I shortly shal not feyne Saue vpon mercy I no thing compleyne

What wonder thenne, thougħ I be witħ drede Inly supprised for to axen grace Of her that is quene of womanhede For wel I wote in so higħ a place Hit wil not be, therfore I ouer pace And take lowly what wo I endure Til she of pyte me take to her cure

But one auowe plainly here I make That whethir so be, she do me lyue or deye I wil not gruoche, but humbly hit take And thanke god and wilfully obeye For by my troutħ my hert shal neuer reneye For lyf ne detħ mercy ne daunger Of wil and thought to be at her desire

To ben as trewe as euer was antonyus To cleopatre whyle hym lastetħ bretħ Or vnto thesbe yong Piramus That was faithful found, til them deptid deth Right so shal I til Antropos me sletħ For whele or woo her faithful man be found Vnto my last, like as my hert is bound

To loue as wel as did Achilles Vnto his laste the fair Polixene Or as the grete famous Hercules For dyanyre that felte the shott kene Right so shal I saye right as I mene Whyle that I lyue, her botħ drede and serue For lack of mercy thougħ she do me sterue

Now lady venus to whom nothing vnknowe Is in the world hid, ne nought may be For ther nys thing nether hye ne lowe May be conceyled from your pryuete Fro whom my menyng is not now secret But wite fully that myn entent is true And liche my trouthe now on my peyne rue

For more of grace than of presumpcion I axe mercy, and no thing of dute Of lowly humbles, witħ oute offencion That ye enclyne of your benygnyte Your audience vnto my humylyte To graunte me that to you I clepe & calle Sum day relees yet of my peynes alle

And sitħ ye haue the guerdon and the mede Of alle louers pleinly in your honde Now of grace and pyte take ye hede Of my distrees, that am vnder your bonde So lowly bound, as ye wel vnderstonde In that place where I toke first my wounde Of pyte suffre ye my heltħ may be founde

That liche as she me hurte witħ a sight Right so with helth late me hur sustene And as the stremes of her eyen bright Whylom my hert witħ woundes sharp & kene Thurgħ persed haue and yet be fresh & grene So as she me hurte, lete her me socoure Or ellis certayn I may not long endure

For lack of speche I can say you no more I haue mater but I can not pleyne My witte is duƚƚ to tel al my sore A mouth I haue, And yet for al my peyn For want of wordes I may not now atteyn To tel half, that dotħ my hert greue Mercy abydyng, til she me list releue

But this theffect of my mater fynal Witħ detħ or mercy relees for to fynde For hert body thought lyf lust and al Witħ al my reson and al my ful mynde And fyue wittes of on assent I bynde To her seruyse witħ oute ony stryf And make her pryncesse of my detħ or lyf

And now I pray of routħ and eke pyte O goodly planet, O lady venus bright That ye your sone of his deyte Cupide I mene that witħ his dredful myght And witħ his brond that is so clere of light Her herte so to fyre and to marke As ye me whylem brent witħ a sparke

That euenlicħ and with the same fyre She may be hit, as I now brenne and melte So that her herte be flamed witħ desire That she may knowe by feruence hou I swelte For of pyte plainly yf she felte The self hete that doth myn hert enbrace I hope of routħ she wiƚƚ do me grace

And ther witħ al bemis as me thought Towardes this man ful benyngely Gan cast her eye, like as that she rought Of his disease, and said ful goodly Sith it is so, that thou so humbly Witħ out gruachyng our hestes liste obeye Toward thyn help I wil anon pourueye

And eke my sone Cupyde that is so blynde He shal be helpyng fully to performe Your hool desire, that nothing be behynde Ne shal be lefte, so we shal reforme This pietous cōpleynt, [that] maketħ the to morne That she for whom thau sorowest most in hert Shal thurgħ hur mercy relece al thy smert

Whan she scetħ tyme, thurgħ our purueaunce Be not to hasty, but suffre althing wele For in abydyng, thurgħ lowly obeyssaunce Lyetħ ful redres, of al that ye now fele And she shal be as trewe as ony stele To you allone, by our myght and grace Yf ye list mekely abyde a lityl space

But vnderstande ye that al her cherising Shal be grounded vpon honeste That no wight shal by ony compacyng Demen amys of hur in no degre For neyther mercy, coutħ ner pyte She shal not haue ne take of the non hede Further than longetħ vnto her womanhede

Be not astonyed of no wilfulnes Ne not despeyred of this dissolucion Late reson bridle lust by buxumnes Witħout gruochyng or rebellyon For ioye shal folowe al this passion For who can suffre torment and endure Ne may not faylle, but folowe shal his cure

For to fore alle she shal the louen best So shal I her witħoute offencion By Influence enspire in her brest In honest wyse witħ ful entencion For tenclyne by clene affection Her hert fully on the to haue routhe Be cause I knowe that thou menest trouthe

Go now to hir where as she stant a syde Witħ humble chere, and put the in her grace And al beforn lete hope be thy guyde And thaugħ that drede wold witħ the pace Hit sittetħ wel, but loke that thou arace Out of thyn hert wanhop and despeire To her presence er thou haue repeir

And mercy first shal thy way make And honest menyng afore do thy message To make pyte in her herte awake And secretnes to further thy viage Witħ humble porte to her that is so sage Shal menes be, and I my self also Shal the fortune, or thy tale be do

Go fortħ anon, and be right good of chere For specheles nothing mayst thou spede Be good of trust & be no thing in were Sitħ I my self shal helpen in this nede For atte lest of her goodly hede She shal to the her audience enclyne And lowe the to her til thou thy tale fyne

For wel thou wost yf I shal not feyne Witħoute speche thou maist no mercy haue For who that wil of his pryue peyne Fully be cured his lyf to helpe and saue He must mekely out of his hert graue Discure his wound and shewe hit his leche Or ellis deye for defaute of speche

For he that is in myschief reklees To seche help I holde hym a wrecche And she ne may thyn hert bryng in pees But yf thy compleynt to hir hert strecche Woldest thou be cured & wilt no salue fecche Hit wil not be, for no wight may atteyne To come to blys, yf he list lyue in peyne

Therfore attones go fortħ in humble wyse To fore thy lady and lowly knele a doun And in al trouthe thy wordes so deuyse That she on the haue compassion For she that is of so hye renoun In al vertues as quene and souerayn Of womanhed shal rue on thy payn

And whan the goddes this lesson had told Aboute me so I gan behold Rigħt so a stoned stode in a traunce To se the maner and contenance And al the chere of this woful man That was of hue dedely pale and wan Witħ drede supprised in his owne thought

Makyng chere as thaugħ he rought nought Of lyf ne detħ ne what so hym betyde So moche fere he had on euery side To put hym fortħ to tel his peyne Vnto his lady, other to compleyne What woo he felt torment or disese What dedely sorow his hert dide sese For coutħ of whiche his wo as I endite My penne I fele quaken as I wryte Of hym I had so grete compassion For to reherce his weymentacion That vnnethe, thougħ I witħ my self stryue I want connyng his peynes to discryue Allas to whom shal I for help calle Not to the muses for cause they ben alle Help of right in Ioye and not in woo And in matiers that they delite also Wherfore they nyl as now directe my style Nor me enspiren Alas the hard whyle I can no further but to the siphon And to her suster to calle help vpon That be goddesses of torment and peyne Nowe lete your teris in to myn Inke reyne

Witħ woful wordes my paper for to blotte This woful mater not to peynt, but spotte To tel the maner of this dredeful man Vpon his complaynt whan he first began To tel his lady whan he gan declare His hid sorowis, and his euel fare That at his herte constreyned so sore Theffect of whiche was this witħoute more

Pryncesse of yougtħ & flour of gentilesse Ensample of vertu ground of curtesye Of beaute rote quene and eke maistres To alle women how they shal hem gye And sotħfast mirrour texemplifye The right way of port and of womanhede What I shal saye, of mercy take ye hede Besechyng first vnto your hye nobles Witħ quakyng hert of my Inward drede Of grace and pyte & not of right wysnes Of verrey coutħe to help in this nede This is to say O wel of goodlyhede That I ne rekke thaugħ ye do me deye So ye list first to heven what I seye

The dredeful stroke the gret force and might Of god cupide that noman may rebelle So inwardly thurgħ out myn hert right Y perced hatħ that I ne may councele Myn hid wound ne I ne may apele Vnto no gretter, this mighty god so faste You to serue hatħ me bound vnto my laste

That hert and aƚƚ witħ out stryf ar yolde For lyf or detħ to your seruyse allone Right as the goddesse myghty venus wolde To for her mekely whan I made my mone She me constrayned witħoute chaunge anone To your seruyse and neuer for to fayne Wherso euer ye list to do me ease or payne

So that I can no thing but mercy crye Of you my lady, and chaunge for no newe That ye list godely to fore er that I dye Of verray couthe vpon my paynes rue For by my trouthe, and ye my peynes knewe What is the cause of myne aduersite On myn disese ye wolde haue pyte

For vnto you trewe and eke secre I wil be founde to serue as I best can And therwitħ al as lowly in eche degre To you be allone as euer yet was man Vnto his lady from the tyme I began And shal so fortħ witħouten ony sleutħ Whylis that I lyue, by god & by my troutħ

For leuer I had to deyen sodenly Than you offende in any maner wyse And suffre paynes inward priuely Than my seruyse as now ye shold dispyse For I right neught wil axe in no wyse But for your seruaunt ye wold me accepte And whan I trespace, goodly me correcte

And for to graunte of mercy the prayer Only of grace and womanly pyte From day to day that I myght leve You for to plese, and therwitħ al that ye Whan I do mys, list for to teche me In your seruyse hou that I may amende From hensfortħ and neuer you offende

For vnto me it doth ynowħ suffyse That for your man ye wold me resseyue Fully to ben as you lyst deuyse And as ferforth as my wittes can conceyue And therwith al liche as ye preue That I be true, to guerdone me of grace Or ellis to punysshe after my trespace

And yf so be that I may not atteyne Vnto your mercy, yet graunte at the leste In your seruyse for al my wo and peyne That I may deyen after my beheste This is al and som the fyn of my request Outher with mercy your seruaunt to saue Or mercyles that I may be begraue

And whan this benygne of her entent true Conceyued hatħ the compleynt of this man Right as the fresh rody Rose newe Of her colour to wexen she began Her blood astoned so from her herte ran In to her face of verray femynyte Thurgh honest drede abasshed was she

And humbly she began her eyen caste Towardes hym of hir benygnyte So that no word by her lippes past For hast nor drede mercy ne pyte For so demened she was in honeste That vnaduysed no thing fro her stert So moche of reson was compassed in her hert

Til atte last of whiche she did abreyd Whan she is trouthe and menyng did fele And vnto hym ful goodly spack and seyd Of your behest and your menyng wele And your seruyse so faitħful euerydele Whiche vnto me so lowly now ye offre Witħ al my herte, I thanke you of your profre

That for so moche your entent is sette Only in vertu y bridled vnder drede Ye must of right nedis face the bet Of your request, and the better spede But as for me I may of womanhede No further graunte to you in myn entente Than as my lady venus wil assente

For she wel knoweth I am not at my large To doon right nought but by her ordynance So am I drownd vnder her dredeful charge Her lyste tobbeye withoute variaunce But for my parte so hit be pleasaunce Vnto the goddesse for troutħ in your empryse I you accepte fully to my seruyse

For she my herte hath in subiection Whiche hoolly is youres & neuer shal repente In thought ner dede in myn election Witnes on venus that knoweth myn entent Fully tobeye hir dome and Iugement So as hir liste disposen and ordeyne Right as she knoweth the troutħ of vs tweyne

For vnto the tyme that venus list prouyde To shape away for our hertis ease Bothe ye and I mekely must abyde To take at gree, and not of our disease To grucche agayn til that she list tappease Our hid woo so Iuly that constreynetħ From day to day and our hertis peyneth

For in abidyng of woo and al affraye Who so can suffre is founden remedye And for the beste ful ofte is made delaye Er men be heled of their maladye Wherfore as venus list this mater to gye Leet vs agreen, and take al for the best Til her liste, sette bothe our hertes in rest

For she is that byndetħ and can constreyn Hertes in one, this fortunate planete And can relece louers of her peyn To turne fully her bitter in to swete Now blisful goddes doun fro thy sterry sete Vs to fortune cast your stremes shene Lyke as ye knowe, that we troutħ mene

And ther witħ al as I myn eyen caste For to perceyue the maner of these tweyne To fore the goddesse mekely as they paste Me thought I saw witħ a goldyn cheyne Venus, anon enbrace and constreyne Her bothe hertes in one, for to perseuere Whilis that they lyue, and neuer to disseuere

Seyng right thus with a benygne chere Sith it is so, ye be vnder my myght My wil is thus, that ye my doughter dere Ful accepte this man as it is right Vnto your grace anon here in my sight That euer hath ben so lowly you to serue Hit is good shil your thank that he deserue

Your honour sauf and eke your womanhede Hym to cherisshe, hit sittetħ you right wele Sith he is bounde vnder hope and drede Amyd my cheyne that forged is of stele Ye must of mercy shape that he fele In yow som grace of his long seruyse And that in hast lik as I shal deuyse

This is to sayn that ye taken hede Hou he to you most faitħful is and true Ofal your seruauntes, & nothing for his mede Of you ne asketh, but ye on hym rue For he vowed hath to change for no newe For lyf ne detħ, for ioye ne for peyne Ay to be youris, so as ye list ordeyne

Wherfore ye muste or els it were wrong Vnto your grace fully hym receyue In my presence, by cause he hatħ so long Hooly ben youris, as ye may conceyue That from your mercy, yf ye hym weyue I wyl my silf recorden cruelte In your persone, and gret lack of pyte

Late hym for his troutħ fynde than agayn For long seruyse, guerdon hym witħ grace And late ye pyte weye doun his payn For tyme is now daunger to arace Out of your hert, and mercy in to pace And loue for loue world wel beseme To yeue agayn and this I plainly deme

And as for hym I wil ben his borowe Of lowlihede and besy attendance How he shal be bothe eue and morowe Ful diligent to doon his obseruance And euer awaytyng, you to do playsance Wherfore my sone, listen and take hede Fully tobeye, as I shal the rede

And first of aƚƚ my wiƚƚ is that thou be Feithful in hert and constant as a wal True humble, meke and therwith al secre Witħ out change in partie or in aƚƚ And for no torment that the fallen shal Tempest the not, but euer in stedfastnes Rote thyn herte, and wyde doublenes

And furthermore haue in reuerence These women al for thy lady sake And suffre neuer that men hem do offence For loue of one, but euermore vndertake Hem to defende whether they slept or wake And ay be redy to holden them party Ayenst aƚƚ tho that to hem haue enuye

Be curtais ay and lowly of thy speche To riche and poure ay fressħ & wel beseyn And euer besy weyes for to seche Alle true louers to relece of her peyn Sith thou art one, & of no wight haue disdeyn For loue hath power hertes for to daunte And neuer for cherising, the to muche auaunte

Be lusty eke voyd of aƚƚ tristesse And take no thought but euer be iocound And not to pensif for none heuynes And witħ thy gladnes, lete sadnes ay be found Whan woo approched, lete mirtħ most habound As manhod ayid, and though [thou] fele smert Late not to many knowen of thyn hert

And alle vertues besily thou sue Vices eschewe for the loue of one And for no tales thyn hert not renewe Word is but wynd that shal soon ouergoon What euer thou here be domb as ony stoon And to answere to sone, not the delyte For here she standetħ that al this shal [the] quyte

And wherther thou be absent or in presence None others beawte lete in thy hert myne Sitħ I haue yeue hir of beaute excellence Aboue al other in vertu for to shyne And thynke hou in fyre men ar wont to fyne this pured gold to put hit in assaye So to the proue, thou art put in delaye

But tyme shal come thou shalt for thy suffrance Be wel apaid and take for thy mede Thy lyurs ioye and al thy suffisance So that good hope alway thy bridel lede Lete no dispeir hyndre the with drede But ay thy trust vpon her mercy grounde Sith none but she may thy sorowe sounde

Eche hour and tyme. weke. day and yere Be lich faithful and vary not for lyte Abyde a whyle and than of thy desire The tyme neygheth that shal the most delyte And late no sorow in thy hert byte For no differring, sith thou for thy mede Shal reioyse in pees the flour of womanhede

Thinke hou she is this worldis sonne & light The sterre of beaute the flour eke of fairnes Both crop and robe and eke the rubye bright Hertes to glade, y troubled with derknes And hou I haue made her, thin hertes Empresse Be glad therfore to be vnder her bond Now come ner doughter & take him by the hond

Vnto this syn that aftir alle these shouris Of his torment he may be glad and light Whan by your grace ye take hym to be youris For euermore anon here in my sight And eke I wil also as hit is right Without more his langour for to lysse In my presence anon that ye hym kysse