there as thy foote standeth, and go nere or ferther, till thou maieste see it through an other poinct and make there an other marke, and looke what difference is betwixe the twoo poinctes in the scale, and right as that difference hath hym to xii. right so the spaces betwixe the twoo markes hath hym to the height of the thing. Ensample. I set the case, that thou seest it through the poinct of iiii. and after at the poinct of iii.. Now passeth the nomber of iiii. the nomber of iii. the distaunce of i. and right as this difference of one, hath hymself to xii. right so the measure betwixe bothe the markes, hath him to the height of the same thing puttyng therto the height of thy self to thine iye. And thus maiest thou werke from i. to xii. Umbra versa. FERTHERMORE, if thou wilte knowe in umbra versa, by the crafte of umbra recta, I suppose to take thine altitude at the poinct of iiii. and makest a marke, and than thou goest nere, till thou haste it at the poincte of iii. and makest there an other marke, than must thou deuide 144. by 4. the nomber that cometh thereof shall be 36. and after deuide 144. by 3. and the nomber that cometh thereof is 48. than loke what difference is betwixe 36. and 48. and that shalt thou finde 12. and right as 12. hath bym to 12. so the space betwixe the twoo prickes, hath him to the altitude of the thyng. MERE ENDETH THE CONCLUSIONS OF THE ASTROLABIE. THE PROLOGUE OF THE TESTAMENT OF LOUE. MANY men there ben, that with eeres openly sprad so moche swalowen the deliciousnesse of iestes and of ryme, by queynt knittinge coloures, that of the goodnesse or of the badnesse of the sentence, take they litel hede or els none. their poisye mater in French, of whiche speche the Frenche men haue as good a fantasye as we haue in heryng of Frenche mens Englishe. And many termes ther ben in Englyshe, whiche vnneth we Englishe men connen declare the knowleginge: how shonld than a Frenche man borne, soche termes conne iumpere in his matter, but as the iay chatereth Englishe. Right so truely the vnderstandyng of Englishmen woll not stretche to the priuye termes in Frenche, what so euer wee bosten of straunge langage. Let than clerkes enditen in Latin, for they haue the propertie of science, and the knowinge in that facultie: and lette Frenchemen in their Frenche also enditen their queinte termes, for it is kyndely to their mouthes, and let vs shewe our fantasies in soche wordes as we lerneden of our dames tonge. And although this booke be lytel thank worthy for the leunesse in trauail, yet soch writing exiten men to thilke thinges that ben necessarie: for euery man therby may as by a perpetual myrrour sene the vices or vertues of other, in whyche thynge lightly may be conceiued to escheue perils, and necessaries to catch, after as anentures haue fallen to other people or persons. Certes the souerainst thinge of desire and most creature reasonable, haue or els shuld haue full appetite to their perfectyon: vnreasonable beestes mowen not, sithe reason hath in hem ro workinge: than reasonable that wol not, is comparisoned to vnreasonable, and made lyke hem. Forsothe the most soueraine and finall perfection of man is in knowynge of a sothe, withouten any entent deceiuable, and in loue of one very God, that is inchaungeable, that is to knowe, and loue his creature. Nowe principally the meane to brynge in knowleging and lonynge his creatour, is the consideracyon of thynges made by the creatour, wherthrough be thylke thinges that ben made, vnderstandynge here to our wyttes, arne the vnsene pryueties of God made to vs syghtfull and knowinge, in our contemplacion and vnderstondinge. These thinges than forsoth moche bringen vs to the ful knowleginge sothe, and to the parfyte loue Sothelye dulle witte and a thoughtfull soule so of the maker of bheuenly thynges. Lo Dauid saith: sore haue mined and graffed in my spirites, that thou haste delited me in makinge, as who saith, to soche craft of enditinge woll nat ben of mine ac- haue delite in the tune how God hath lent me in quaintance. And for rude wordes and boistous consideracion of thy makinge. Wherof Aristotle percen the herte of the herer to the inrest point, in the boke de Animalibus, saieth to naturell phiand planten there the sentence of thinges, so that losophers: it is a greate likynge in loue of knowwith litel helpe it is able to spring. This booke ing their creatoure: and also in knowinge of causes that nothynge hath of the great floode of wytte, inkindelye thynges considred. Forsothe the formes ne of semelyche colours, is doluen with rude wordes of kindelye thinges and the shap, a great kyndely and boistous, and so drawe togider to maken the loue me shulde haue to the werkman that hem calthers therof ben the more redy to heut sen-made. The crafte of a werkman is shewed in the tence. werk. Herefore trulie the philosophers with a Some men there ben, that painten with colours lyuely studie manie noble thinges, righte precious riche and some with vers, as with red inke, and and worthy to memorye writen, and by a great some with coles and chalke: and yet is there good swetande trauaille to vs letten of causes the promatter to the leude people of thylke chalkye pur-perties in natures of thinges, to whiche therfore treyture, as hem thinketh for the tyme, and after-philosophers it was more ioy, more lykinge, more ward the syght of the better colours yeuen to hem more ioye for the first leudenesse. So sothly this leude clowdy occupacyon is not to prayse, but by the leude, for comenly leude leudenesse commemdeth. Eke it shal yeue sight that other precyous thynges shall be the more in reuerence. In Latin and French hath many soueraine wittes had great delyte to endite, and haue many noble thinges fulfilde, but certes there ben some that speaken herty lust in kindely vertues and matters of reason | this booke shall be of loue, and the prime causes of stering in that doinge with passions and diseases for wantinge of desire, I wil that this booke be cleped the Testament of Loue. But now thou reder, who is thilke that will not in scorne laughe, to here a dwarfe or els halfe a man, say he wil rende out the swerde of Hercules handes. And also he shulde set Hercules gades a mile yet ferther, and ouer that he had power of strength to pull vp the spere, that Alisander the noble might neuer wagge. And that passinge al thinge to ben mayster of Fraunce by might, there as the noble gracious Edwarde the thirde for all his great prowesse in victories ne might al yet conquere. Certes I wote well, ther shall be made more scorne and iape of ine, that I so vnworthely clothed al togither in the cloudie cloude of vnconning, wil putten me in prees to speke of loue, or els of the causes in that matter, sithen al the grettest clerkes han had ynough to don, and as who saith gathered vp clene to forne hem, and with their sharp sithes of conning al mowen and made thereof great rekes and noble, ful of al plenties to fed me and many another. Enuye forsothe commendeth noughte his reason, that he hath in vain, be it neuer so trusty. And al though these noble repers, as good workmen and worthy their hier, han al draw and bounde ур in the sheues, and made many shockes, yet haue I ensample to gader the smale crommes, and fullin my walet of tho that fallen from the bourde among the smalle houndes, notwithstandinge the trauaile of the almoigner, that hath draw vp in the cloth al the remissailes, as trenchours, and the relief to bere to the almesse. Yet also haue I leue of the noble husbande Boece, all though I be a straunger of conninge to come after his doctrine, and these great workmen, and glene my handfuls of the shedynge after their handes, and yf me faile ought of my ful, to encrease my porcion with that I shal drawe by priuyties out of shockes, a slye seruaunte in his owne helpe is often moche commended, knowynge of trouthe in causes of thynges, was more hardier in the firste sechers, and so sayth Aristotle, and lighter in vs that han followed after. For their passing study han fresshed our wittes, and oure vnderstandynge han excited in consideracion of trouth by sharpenes of their reasons. Utterly these thinges be no dremes ne iapes, to throwe to bogges, it is lyfelych meate for children of trouth, and as they me betiden whan I pilgramed out of my kith in wintele, whan the wether out of measure was boistous, and the wyld wind Borias as his kind asketh with dryinge coldes, inaked the wawes of the occian see so to arise vnkindely ouer the commune bankes that it was in point to spill all the erthe. THUS ENDETH THE PROLOGUE, AND HERE AFTER FOLOWETH THE FIRST BOKE OF THE TESTAMENT OF LOUE. sheweth sorowful yexynge from within. Thus from my confort I ginne to spille, sith she that shulde me solace, is ferre fro my presence. Certes her absence is to me an Hell, my sternynge death thus in wo it myneth, that endelesse care is throughout myne herte clenched, blysse of my ioye, that ofte me murthed is turned into galle, to thynke on thing that may not at my wil in armes me hent. Mirth is chaunged into tene, whan swink is there continually, that rest was wont to soiourne and haue dwellynge place. Thus witlesse thoughtfull, sightlesse lokynge, I endure my penaunce in this derke prisoune, caitisned fro frendshippe and acquaintaunce, and forsaken of al that any worde dare speake. Straunge hath by way of intrucioun made his home there me shulde be, yf reason were herde as he shulde. Neuer the later yet hertly lady precyous Margarit, haue minde on thy seruaunte, and thynke on his disease, howe lightles he lyueth, sithe the beames brenende in lore of thin eien arn so bewet, that worldes and cloude ativene vs twey wol not suffre my thoughtes of hem to be enlumyned. Thinke that one vertue of a Margarite precious is amonges manye other the sorowfull to comforte, yet wil of that me sorowful to comforte, is my luste to baue nought els at this tyme, deede ne death, ne no maner traueylle hath, no power myne herte so moche to fade, as. shulde to here of a twincklinge in your disease. Ah, God forbede that, but yet lete me dey, let me sterue withouten any measure of penaunce, rather than myne hertely thinking comforte in ought were diseased. What may my seruice aueile in absence of her, that my seruice shulde accepte? is this nat endelesse sorowe to thinke? Yes, yes God wote, myne herte breaketh nie a sonder, how should the ground without kindly noriture, bringen forth any fruites? how should a ship withoten a sterne in the great sea be gouerned? how shold I withouten my blisse, my herte, my desire, my ioye, my goodnesse, endure in this contrarious prison, that thinke euery houre in the daie, an hundred winter? wel maie now Eue sain to me Adam, in sorowe fallen from wealthe, driuen art thou out of Paradise, with sweate thy sustenaunce to be swinke. Depe in this pinyng pitte, with wo I ligge istocked, with chaines linked of care, and of tene. It is so hie from thens I lie, and the common yerth, there ne is cable in no land maked, that might stretche to me, to drawe me into blisse, ne steyers to steye on is none, so that without recouer endlesse, here to endure I wote well I purueide. O where art thou nowe frendship, that sometyme with laughaude chere, madest bothe face and countenaunce to me wardes? Truely nowe arte thou wente out of toune, but euer me thinketh, he weareth his old clothes, and that the soule, in the whiche the life of frendship was in, is drawen out from his other spirites. Now than farewell frendship, and farewell felawes, me thinketh ye all han taken your leaue: no force of you all at ones. THE TESTAMENT OF LOUE. But ladie of loue, ye wote what I mean, yet ALAS fortune alas, I that some tyme in delicious think on thy seruaunt, that for thy loue spilleth, houres was wont to enioy blisful stoundes, am all thynges haue I forsake, to folowen thine hestes: nowe dryne by vnhappy heuinesse to bewaile my reward me with a thought though ye doc naught sondrie yuels in tene. Trewlie I leuc, in myn els. Remembraunce of loue, lith so sore vnder herte is writte of perdurable letters al the enten-my breste, that other thought cometh not in my cyons of lamentacion that now ben yncmpned, mynde, but gladnesse to thinke on your goodnesse, for any maner disease outward in sobbyng maner, and your merie chere, frendes and sorowe, to think on your wretche and your daunger, from whiche | mewardes by a cloudie disease, all readie to make Christ me saue. My greate ioye it is to haue in stormes of tene, and the blisfull side halte still meditacions, the bounties, the vertues, the nobley awaiward, and woll it not suffer to mewardes to in you printed: sorowe and Hel comen at ones, turne: no force yet woll I not been conquered. to suppose that I be veined. Thus with care, sorowe, and tene am I shapt, min ende with death to make. Now good goodly thinke on this. O, alas that your nobley so moche emong all other creatures, commended by folowyng streme, by al maner vertues, but there been wonderfull, I not whiche that let the flood to come into my soul, wherfore purely mated with sorowe through sought, my self I crie on your goodnes, to haue pitee on this caitife, that in the inrest degree of sorowe and disease is left, and without your goodlie will, from any help and recouery. These sorowes maie I not susteine, but if my sorowe should bee tolde, and to you werdes shewed, although moche space is betwene vs twaine, yet me thynketh that by soche ioleinyng woordes, my disease ginneth eb. Truelie me thynketh that the soune of my lamentacious wepyng, is right now flowe into youre presence, and there crieth after mercie and grace, to whiche thynge me semeth, thee liste nene answere to yeue, but with a deinous chere, ye commaunded it to auoide, but God forbidde that any woorde should of you spryng, to haue so little ruth. Parde pitie and mercie, in euery Margarit is closed by kinde, emongs many other vertues, by qualities of comforte, but comfort is to me right naught worthe, withouten mercie and pitie of you alone whiche thinges hastly God me graunt for his mercie. O wretched foole that I am fallen into folowe, the heate of my brenning tene hath me all defased: how should ye lady set prise on so foule filth my conning is thinne, my witte is exiled, like to a foole naturell, am I comparisoned. Truely ladie, but your mercie the more were. I wote well all my labor were in idell: your mercie than passeth right. God graunt that proposicion to be verified in me, so that by trust of good hope, I mowe come to the hauen of ease, and sith it is impossible, the colours of youre qualities to chaunge: and forsoth I wote well, wemme ne spot maie not abide, there so noble vertue haboundeth, so that the defasyng to you is verily imaginable, as countenance of goodnes what encreasing vertue, is so in you knit to abid by necessarie maner, yet if the riuers might fal, which is ayenst kinde, I woll well myn herte, ne should therefore naught flit, by the leste poinct of geometrie, so sadlie is it sonded, that awaie from your seruice in loue, maie he not departe. O loue, whan shall I been pleased? O charitie, whan shall I been eased? O good goodlie, whan shall the dice tourne? O full of vertue, doe the chaunce of comforte, vpwarde to fall. O loue, whan wolt thou think on thy seruaunt? I can no more, but here out cast of all welfare, abide the daie of my death, or els to see the sight that might all my wellynge sorowes voide, and of the floode make an ebbe. These diseases mowen well by duresse of sorowe, make my life to vnbodie, and so for to die: bat certes, ye ladie in a full perfeccion of loue, been so knitte with my soule, that death maie not thilke knotte vnbinde ne departe, so that ye and my soulle together is endlesse, in blisse should dwel, and there shall my soule at the full been eased, that he maie haue your presence, to shewe the entent of his desires: ah dere God, that shall bee a greate ioye. Now yearthlie goddesse, take regarde of thy seruaunt, though I be feble, for thou art wonte to praise them better, that would conserue in loue, all be he full meaner than kinges or princes, that woll not haue that vertue in minde. Now precious Margarite, that what thy noble vertue, hast drawen me into loue firste, me wenyng thereof to haue blisse, as galleright so with ferdnesse, mine herte was caught. and aloes are so moche sprong, that sauour of swetenesse maie I not atast. Alas that your benigne iyen, in which that mercie semeth, to haue all his noriture, nill by no waie tourne the clerenesse of mercie to mewardes. Alas that your brennande vertues, shinyng emonges all folke, and enluminyng all other people, by habundaunce of encreasyng, sheweth to me but smoke, and no light. These thinges to thinke in myne harte, maketh euery daie wepyng in myne iyen to renne. These liggen on my backe so sore, that importable burden me semeth on me backe to be charged, it maketh me backwarde to meue, whan my steppes by comon course euen forthe pretende: these thynges also on right side and lefte, haue me so enuolued with care, that wanhope of helpe is throughout me ronne truelie, and leue that gracelesse is my fortune, whiche that euer sheweth it REHEARSING these things and many other, without time or moment of rest, me semed for anguishe of disease, that all togither I was rauisshed, I can not tell how, but holly al my passions and felynges weren loste, as it semed for the time, and sodainly a maner of dreade, fight in me al at ones, nought soche feare as folke haue of an enemie, that were mightic, and would hem greue, or dooen hem disease: for I trowe this is wel knowe to many persones, that otherwhile if a man be in his soueraines presence, a maner of ferdnesse creapeth in his herte, not for harme, but of goodlie subieccion: namelie as men reden that aungelles been aferde of our Sauiour in Heauen. And parde there ne is, ne maie no passion of disease bee, but it is to meane, that aungelles been a dradde, not by frendes of drede, sithen thei been perfitly blissed, as affeccion of wonderfulnes, and by seruice of obedience, soche ferde also han these louers in presence of their loues, and subiectes aforne their soueraines : And And I sodainlie astoined, there entered into the nesse, that me should no precious thing neigh: and also that for my sorowe euery wight should been heauie, and wisshe my recouery. But whan this lady had somedeale apperceiued, as well by my woordes, as by my chere, what thought busied me within, with a good womanlie countenaunce she said these wordes. "O my norie, wenest thou that my maner bee, to foryet my frendes, or my seruauntes? Naie" (quod she) "it is my full entent, to visite and comfort all my frendshippes and alies, as well in tyme of perturbacion, as of moste propertie of blisse, in me shall vnkindnesse neuer be founden. And also sithen I haue so fewe especial true, now in these daies, wherfore I maie well at more leisar, come to hem that me deseruen, and if my comyng maie in any thyng auaile, wete well I woll come often." "Now good ladie" (quod I) "that art so faire on to loke, rinyng honie by thy woordes, blisse of paradise arne thy lokynges, ioye and comfort are thy mouinges. What is thy name? How is it that in you is so mokell werking vertues enpight, as me semeth, and in non other creature, that euer sawe I with mine iyen?"-"My disciple" (quod she) "me wondreth of thy wordes, and on thee, that for a little disease hast foryeten my name. Wost thou not well that I am Loue, that firste thee brought to thy seruice?"-"O good ladie" (quod I) "is this worship to thee, or to thyne excellence, for to come into so foule a place? Parde somtime tho was in prosperite, and with forain goodes enuolued, I had mokil to doen to draw thee to mine hostell, and yet many werninges thou madest, ere thou liste fullie to graunt, thine home to make at my dwelling place: and now thou comest goodlie by thine owne vise, to comfort me with wordes, and so there through I ginne remember, on passed gladnes. Trulie ladie I ne wot, whether I shall saie welcome or none, sithen thy commyng woll as moche doe me tene and sorowe, as gladnesse and mirth: se why. For that me comforteth to thinke on passed gladnesse, that me anoyeth eft to be in doing. Thus thy comming both gladdeth and teneth, and that is cause of moche sorowe: lo ladie, how than I am comforted by your conning, and with that I gan in teares to distill, and tenderlie wepe."-"Now certes" (quod Loue) "I se well (and that me ouer thinketh) that wit in the faileth, and art in poinct to dote."-"Trulie" (quod I) "that haue ye maked, and that euer wol I rue."-"Wottest thou not well" (quod she)" that euery shepherde ought by reason, to seke his sperkeland shepe that arne ron into wildernessc, emong busshes and perils, and hem to their pasture ayen bryng, and take of hem priuie busie cure on keping: and tho the vnconning shepe, scattred would been lost, renning to wildernesse, and to desertes drawe, or els woulden put hem self to the swallowyng wolfe, yet shall the shepherde, by businesse and trauaile, so put him forthe, that he shall not let him be lost by no waie. A good shepherd putteth rather his life to been lost for his shepe. "But for thou shalt not wene me, being of werse condicion, truclie for eueriche of my folke, and for all tho that to mewarde, bee knit in any condicion, I woll rather die than suffre hem through errour to been spilte. For me liste, and it me liketh, of all myne a shepherdesse to bee cleaped. Wost thou not well, I failed neuer wight, but he me refused, and would negligentlie go with vnkind nesse? And yet parde, haue I many soche holpe and releued, and thei haue ofte me begiled, but euer at thende, it discended in their owne neckes. Haste thou not redde, howe kinde I was to Paris, Priamus' soone of Troie? How Iason me falsed, for al his fals behest? How Sesars sonke, I lefte it for no tene, till he was troned in my blisse, for his seruice. What" (quod she) "moste of all, maked I not a louedaie, bitwene God and mankind, and chese a maide to be nompere, to but the quarell at ende: lo, how I haue travailed to haue thanke on all sides, and yet list me not to reste, and I might finde on whom I should werche. But trulie mine owne disciple, bicause I haue the founde at all assais in thy will to bee redie, mine hestes to haue followed, and haste been true to that Margarite Perle, that ones I thee shewed, and she alwaie ayenward, hath made but daungerous chere, I am come in proper persone to put thee out of errours, and make thee glad by waies of reason, so that sorow ne disease shal, no more hereafter the amaistrie. Wher through I hope, thou shalt lightlie come to the grace, that thou longe haste desired, of thilke iewell. Haste thou not heard many ensamples, how I haue comforted, and releued the scholers of my lore? Who hath worthied kinges in the felde? Who hath honoured ladies in boure, by a perpetuall mirror of their truth in my seruice? Who hath caused worthie folke, to voide vice and shame? who hath holde citees, and realmes in prosperitie? if thee list clepe ayen thyne olde remembraunce, thou coudest euery poincte of this declare in especiall, and saie that I thy maistres haue be cause, causyng these thinges, and many mo other." "Now iwis madame" (quod I)" all these thinges I knowe well my self, and that thyne excellence, passeth the vnderstandyng of vs beastes, and that no mannes witte yearthlie, maie comprehende thy vertues."-"Well than" (quod she) "for I see thee in disease and sorowe, I wote well thou art one of myne nories, I maie not suffer thee so to make sorowe, thine owne self to shende: but I my self come to be thy fere, thine heuy charge to make to seme the lesse, for wo is him that is a loue: and to the sory to been moued by a sorowfull wight it is great gladnes. Right so with my sicke frendes I am sicke, and with sorie, I can not els but sorowe make, till whan I haue hem releued, in soche wise that gladnesse in a maner of counterpaisyng, shall restore as mokell in ioye, as the passed heuinessc biforme did in tene, And also" (quod she)" whan any of my seruauntes been alone in solitarie place, I haue yet euer busied me to be with hem, in comfort of their hartes, and taught hem to make songes of plainte and of blisse, and to enditen letters of rhetorike, in queint vnderstandinges, and to bethinke hem in what wise, thei might beste their ladies in good seruice please, and also to learne maner in countenaunce, in wordes, and in bearyng, and to been meke and lowlie to.euery wight, his name and fame to encrease, and to yeue greate yeftes and large, that his renome maje spryngen, but thee thereof haue I excused, for thy losse and thy greate costages, where through thou arte neadie, arne nothing to me vnknowen, but I hope to God sometime it shal been amended, as thus, as I saied. In norture haue I taught al mine, and in curtesie made hem expert, their ladies hertes to winne, and if any would endeinous, or proude, or be enuious, or of wretches acquaintaunce, hastliche | thaucthoritie of witnesse, and also of sikernesse of haue soche voided out of my schole: for all vices helpe of the foresaied beheste, and said. 'Truely truelie I hate: uertues and worthinesse in all my ladie now am a well gladded, through comforte of power Lauaunce." your wordes: be it now likyng vnto your nobly to shewe, whiche folke diffame your seruantes, sith your seruice oughte aboue all other thynges to been commended."" Yet" (quod she) "I see well thy soule is not al out of the amased cloude: the were better to heare thing, that thee might light out of thyne heauie charge and after knowyng of thyne own helpe, than to stirre swete woordes, and soche reasons to heare: for in a thoughtfull soule (and namely soch one as thou art) woll not yet soche thinges sinken. Come of therefore, and let me seen thy heuie charge, that I maie the lightlier for thy comfort purueigh." "Ah worthie creature" (quod I)" and by iuste cause, the name of goddes diguely ye mow beare: in thee lithe the grace, through whiche any creature in this world hath any goodnesse, truly all maner of blisse, and preciousness in vertue out of thee springen, and wellen, as brookes and riuers, proceaden from their sprynges, and like as all waters by kinde, drawen to the sea, so all kindly thinges thresten, by ful appetite of desire to drawe after thy steppes, and to thy presence aproche, as to their kindlie perfeccion how dare than beastes in this world, aught forfete ayenst thy diuine purueighaunce? Also lady ye knowen all the priuie "Now certes ladie" (quod I) "the moste comfort thoughtes, in hertes no counsaile maie been hidde I might haue, were vtterlie to wete me bee sure in from your knowyng. Wherefore I wote wel ladie, hertes, of that Margarite I serue, and so I thinke that ye knowe your self, that I in my conscience to doen with all mightes, while my life dureth." am, and haue been willyng to your seruice, all "Than" (quod she) "maieste thou thereafter, in coude I neuer dooe as I should, yet forsothe fained soche wise that mispleasaunce ne entre?"-"In good I neuer to loue otherwise, than was in myne harte: faithe" (quod I) "there shall no mispleasaunce be and if I coud haue made chere to one, and ithought caused, through trespace on my side."-" And I dooe an other, as many other dooen aldaie afore myne thee to wenten" (quod she) "I sette neuer yet periyen, I trowe it would not me haue vailed." sone to serue in no place (but if he caused the con"Certes" (quod she)." haddest thou so dooen, 1trary, in defaultes and trespaces) that he ne sped of would not now haue thee here visited."-"Ye wete well ladie eke" (quod I) "that I haue not plaid raket, nettle in, docke out, and with the weathercocke waued, and truely there ye me sette, by accorde, of my conscience, I would not flie, till ye and reason by aperte strength, maden myne harte to tourne." "In good faithe" (quod she)" I haue knowe thee euer of tho condicions, and sithen thou wouldest (in as moche as in thee was) a made me priuie of thy counsaill, and iudge of thy conscience, though I forsoke it in the daies, till I sawe better my tyme, would neuer God that I should now faile, but euer I woll be readie, witnessyng thy sothe, in what place that euer I shall, ayenst al tho that woll the contrary sustein, and for as moche as to me is naught vnknowen, ne hid of thy priuie herte, but all haste thou tho thynges, made to me open at the full, that hath caused my comyng into this prison, to voide the webbes of thine iyen to make thee clerely to see the errours thou haste been in, and bicause that men been of diuers condicions, some a dradde to saie a sothe, and some for a sothe, anone readie to fight, and also that I maie not my self been in place, to withsaie thilke men, that of thee speaken, otherwise than the sothe, I woll and charge thee, in vertue of obedience, that thou to me owest, to writen my wordes, and set hem in writynges, that thei mowe as my witnessyng, been noted emong the people. For bookes written, neither dreden ne shamen, ne striue conne, but onely shewen the entente of the writer, and yeue remembraunce to the hearer: and if any woll in thy presence saie, any thinge to tho writers, looke boldlie, trust on Mars to answere at the ful. For certes, I shal him enforme of all the trouthe in thy loue, with thy conscience, so that of his helpe thou shalt not varie at thy nede. I trowe the strongest and the best that maie bee founde, woll not transuers thy wordes, whereof than wouldest thou drede." GREATLIE was I tho gladded of these wordes, and as who saith, wexen somdele light in herte, both for his seruice."-" Myne owne yearthly ladie" (quod I tho)" and yet remember to your worthinesse how long sithen by many reuoluyng of yeres, in tyme whan October, bis leaue ginneth take, and Nouember sheweth hym to sight, whan bernes been full of goodes, as is the nutte on euery halke, and than good londe tillers, ginneth shape for the yearth, with greate trauaile to bryng forthe more corne, to mannes sustenance, ayenste the next yeres folowing. In soche tyme of plentie, he that hath an home, and is wise, liste not to wander meruailes to seche, but he be constrained or excited: oft the lothe thing is doen, by excitacion of other mannes opinion, whiche woulden faine haue myne abidyng, take in herte of luste to trauaile, and see the windyng of the yearth, in that tyme of winter, by woodes that large streates werne in, by small pathes, that swine and hogges hadden made, as lanes with ladels their maste to seche, I walked thinkyng alone, a wonder greate while, and the greate beastes that the woode haunten, and adorneth al maner forestes, and heerdes gone to wilde: than ere I was ware, I neighed to a sea banke, aud for ferde of the beastes, shipcraft I cride: for ladie I trowe ye wete well your self, nothyng is werse than the beastes that shoulden been tame, if thei catche hir wildenesse, and ginne again waxe ramage: thus forsothe was I aferde, and to shippe me hied. Than were there inowe to lache myne handes, and drawe me to shippe, of whiche many I knewe well the names. Sight was the firste, Luste was an other, Thought was the thirde, and Will eke was there a master: these broughten me within borde, of this shippe of traueile. So whan the saile was sprad, and this shippe gan to moue, the winde and water gan for to rise, and ouertwhartlie to tourne the welken, the wawes semeden as thei kiste togither, but often vnder colour of kissyng, is mokell olde hate priuelie closed and kepte. The storme so straungelie, and in a deuouryng maner, ganne so fast vs assaile, that I supposed the date of my death, should haue made there his ginning, now vp, now doun nowe vnder the wawe, and nowe |