LENUOYE.

Princesse, pleaseth it to your benignitie
This little ditie to haue in mind,
Of womanhede also for to see,
Your man may your mercy find,

And pity eke, that long hath be behind,
Let him againe be provoked to grace,
For by my trouth it is against kind,
False daunger to occupy his place.

Go little quaire vnto my lives queene
And my very hertes soueraine,

And be right glad for she shall the seene,
Such is thy grace, but I alas in paine
Am left behind, and not to whom to plaine,
For mercy, ruth, grace, and eke pite
Exiled be, that I may not attaine,
Recure to find of mine adversite.

EXPLICIT.

A PRAISE OF WOMEN.

ALTHO thee list of women evill to speak,
And sain of hem worse than they deserve,
I pray to god that hir neckes to break,

Or on some evil death mote tho janglers sterve
For every man were holden hem to serve,
And do hem worship, honour, and servise,
In every manner that they best coud devise.
For we ought first to think on what manere
They bring vs forth, and what pain they endure
First in our birth, and sith fro yere to yere
How busely they done their busie cure,
To keepe vs fro every misaventure
In our youth whan we have no might

Our selfe to keepe, neither by day nor night.

Alas, how may we say on hem but wele,
Of whom we were fostred and ybore,
And ben all our succour, and ever true as stele,
And for our sake full oft they suffer sore,
Without women were all our joy lore,
Wherfore we ought all women to obey
In all goodnesse, I can no more say.

This is well knowne, and hath ben or this,
That women ben cause of all lightnesse,
Of knighthood, norture, eschuing all mallis,
Encrease of worship, and of all worthinesse, [nesse,
Thereto curteis and meke, and ground of all good-
Glad and merry, and true in every wise
That any gentill herte can thinke or devise.

And though any would trust to your vntruth,
And to your faire words would aught assent,
In good faith me thinketh it wer great ruth,
That other women shuld for hir gilt be shent,
That never knew, ne wist nought of hir entent,
Ne list not to heare tho faire words ye write,
Which ye you paine fro day to day tendite.
But who may beware of your tales vntrue,
That ye so busily paint and endite,
For ye will swere that ye never knew,
Ne saw the woman, neither much ne lite,
Save only her, to whom ye had delite,
As for to serve of all that ever ye sey,
And for her love must ye needs dey..

Than will ye swere that ye knew never before
What Love was, ne his dredfull observaunce,
But now ye feele that he can wound sore,
Wherfore ye put you into her governaunce,
Whom Love hath ordeind you to serve and do ple-
With al your might your little lives space, [sance
Which endeth soone, but if she do you grace.

And than to bed will he soone draw,
And soone sicke ye will you than faine,
And swere fast your lady hath you slaw,

And brought you suddainly in so high a paine
That fro your death may no man you restraine,
With a daungerous looke of her eyen two,
That to your death must ye needs go.

Thus will ye morne, thus will ye sigh sore,
As though your herte anon in two wold brest,
And swere fast that ye may live no more,
Mine owne lady, that might if ye lest
Bring mine herte somedcle into rest,
As if you list mercy on me to have,
Thus your vntrouth will ever mercy crave.

Thus woll ye plain, tho ye nothing smert,
These innocent creatures for to beguile,
And swere to hem, so wounded is your herte
For hir love, that ye may live no while.
Scarsly so long as one might go a mile,
So hieth death to bring you to an end,
But if your soverain lady list you to amend.

And if for routh she comfort you in any wise
For pity of your false othes sere,

So that innocent weneth that it be as you devise,
And weneth your herte be as she may here,
Thus for to comfort and somwhat do you chere:
Than woll these janglers deme of her full ill,
And saine that ye have her fully at your will.

Lo how ready hir tonges been, and prest
To speake harme of women causelesse,
Alas, why might ye not as well say the best,
As for to deme hem thus guiltlesse,
In your herte iwis there is no gentilnesse,
That of your own gilt list thus women fame,
Now by my trouth, me think ye be too blame.

For of women cometh this worldly wele,
Wherfore we ought to worship hem evermore,
And though it mishap one, we ought for to hele,
For it is all through our false lore,
That day and night we paine vs evermore
With many an oth, these womeu to beguile
With false tales, and many a wicked wile.

And if falshede should be reckened and told
In womeu, iwis full trouth were,
Not as in men, by a thousand fold,
Fro all vices iwis they stand cleare,
In any thing that I could of heare,
But if enticing of these men it make,
That hem to flatteren connen never slake.

I would fain wete where euer ye coud here,
Without mens tising, what women did amis,
Forther ye may get hem, ye lie fro yere to yere
And many a gabbing ye make to hem iwis,
For I could neuer heare, ne knowen ere this,
Where euer ye coud find in any place,
That euer wonen besought you of grace.

There ye you pain, with all your ful might,
With all your herte, and all your businesse,
To pleasen hem both by day and night,
Praying hem of hir grace and gentilnesse,
To haue pitie upon your great distresse,

And that they would on your paine haue routh,
And slea you not, sens ye meane but trouth.

Thus may ye see that they ben faultlesse,
And innocent to all your werkes slie,
And all your crafts that touch falsenessé,
They know hem not, ne may hem not espie,
So sweare ye, that ye must needs die,
But if they would of hir womanhead
Upon you rew, ere that ye be dead.

And than your lady, and your hertes queene
Ye call hem, and therewith ye sighe sore,
And say, "My lady I trow that it be seene
In what plite that I haue liued full yore,
But now I hope that ye woll no more
In these paines suffer me for to dwell,
For all goodnesse iwis ye be the well."

Lo which a painted processe can ye make,
These harmlesse creatures for to beguile,
And whan they slepe, ye paine you to wake,
And to bethinke you on many a wicked wile,
But ye shall see the day that ye shall curse the
That ye so busily did your entent

Hem to beguile, that falshed neuer meant.

For this ye know wel, though I would lie,
In women is all trouth and stedfastnesse,
For in good faith I neuer of hem sie
But much worship, bountie, and gentilnesse,
Right comming, faire, and full of meeknesse,
Good and glad, and lowly I you ensure,
Is this goodly angellike creature

[while

And if it hap a man be in disease,
She doeth her businesse, and her full paine
With al her might, him to comfort and please
If fro his disease she might him restraine,
In word ne deed ywis she woll not faine,
But with all her might she doth her businesse
To bring him out of his heauinesse,

Lo what gentillesse these women haue,
If we could know it for our rudenesse,
How busie they be us to keepe and saue,
Both in heale, and also in sicknesse,
And alway right sorrie for our distresse,
In euery manner, thus shew they routh,
That in hem is all goodnesse and trouth.

And sith we find in bem gentilnesse and trouth,
Worship, bountie, and kindnesse euermore,
Let neuer this gentillesse throgh your slouth
In hir kind trouth be aught forlore
That in women is, and hath ben full yore,
For in reuerence of the Heauens queene,
We ought to worship all women that beene.

For of all creatures that euer wer get and borne,
This wote ye well a woman was the best,
By her was recouered the blisse that we had lorne,
And through the woman shall we come to rest,
And ben ysaued, if that our selfe lest,
Wherefore me thinketh, if that we had grace,
We oughten honour women in every place.

Therefore I rede, that to our liues end,
Fro this time forth, while that we haue space,
That we haue trespaced, pursue to amend,
Praying our ladie well of all grace

To bring us unto that blisful place,

There as she and all good women shal be in fere In Heauen aboue, among the angels clere.

EXPLICIT.

THE HOUSE OF FAME.

In this book is shewed how the deeds of all men and women, be they good or bad, are carried by report to posterity.

God tourne us euery dream to good,
For it is wonder thing by the rood
To my wit, what causeth sweuens
On the morrow, or on euens,

And why the effect followeth of some,
And of some it shal neuer come,
Why that it is an auision,
And why this is a reuelation,

Why this a dreame, why that a sweuen,
And not to euery man liche euen,
Why this a fantome, why that oracles,
I not: but who so of these miracles
The causes know bet than I,
Define he, for I certainly
Ne can hem not, ne neuer thinke
To busie my wit for to swinke
To know of hir significations

The gendres, ne distinctions

Of the times of hem, ne the causes,

Or why this is more than that is,
Or yeue folkes complexions,
Make hem dreame of reflections,
Or else thus, as other saine,

For the great feeblenesse of hir brain,
By abstinence, or by sicknesse,
Prison, strife or great distresse,
Or els by disordinaunce,
Or natural accustomaunce,
That some men be too curious
In studie, or melancolius,
Or thus, so inly full of drede,
That no man may him bote rede,
Or els that deuotion
Of some, and contemplation,
Causen such dreames oft,
Or that the cruell life vnsoft
Of hem that loues leden,.
Oft hopen much or dreden,
That purely hir impressions
Causen hem to haue visions,
Or if spirits han the might
To make folke to dreame on night,
Or if the soule of proper kind,
Be so perfite as meu find,
That it wote what is to come,
And that he warneth all and some
Of eueriche of hir auentures,

By auisions, or by figures,

And said he must into Itaile,
As was his destinie, sauns faile,
That it was pitie for to heare,
Whan her spirit gan appeare
The words that she to him saied,

And for to keepe her sonne him praied.
There saw I grauen eke how he,
His father eke, and his meine,
With his ships gan to saile
Toward the country of Itaile,
As streight as they mighten go.
There saw I eke the cruell Juno,
That art dan Jupiters wife,
That hast yhated all thy life
All the Troyan blood,

Ren and cry as thou were wood
On Eolus, the god of winds,
To blowen out of all kinds
So loud, that he should drench
Lord, lady, groome, and wench
Of all the Troyans nation,
Without any of hir saluation.
There saw I such tempest arise,
That euery herte might agrise,
To see it painted on the wall.
There saw I eke grauen withall
Venus, how ye my lady dere,
Weeping with full wofull chere,
Praying Jupiter on hie

To saue and keepe that nauie
Of that Troyan Eneas,

Sith that he her sonne was.

There saw I Joues Uenus kisse,

And graunted was of the tempest lisse.
There saw I how the tempest stent,
And how with all pine he went,
And priuely tooke a riuage
Into the countrey of Carthage,
And on the morow how that he,
And a knight that height Achate,
Metten with Uenus that day,
Going in a queint array,
As she had be an hunteresse,
With wind blowing vpon her tresse,
And how Eneas began to plaine,
Whan he knew her, of his paine,
And how his ships dreint were,
Or els ylost, he nist where,
How she gan him comfort tho,
And bade hini to Cartage go,
And there he should his folke find,
That in the sea were left behind,
And shortly of this thing to pace,
She made Eneas so in grace
Of Dido, queene of that countre,
That shortly for to tellen, she
Became his loue, and let him do
All that wedding longeth to,
What should I speake it more quaint,
Or paine me my words to paint,
To speake of loue, it woll not be,
I cannot of that faculte,

And eke to tellen of the manere
How they first acquainted were,
It were a long processe to tell,
And ouer long for you to dwell.

There saw I graue, how Eneas
Told to Dido euery caas,
That him was tidde vpon the see.
And eft grauen was how that she

Made of him shortly at a word,
Her life, her loue, her lust, her lord,
And did to him all reuerence,
And laid on him all the dispence,
That any woman might do,
Wening it had all be so,

As he her swore, and hereby demed
That he was good, for he such seemed.
Alas, what harme doth apparence,
Whan it is false in existence,
For he to her a traitour was,
Wherefore she slow her selfe alas

Lo, how a woman doth amis,
To loue him that vnknowen is,
For by Christ lo thus it fareth,
It is not all gold that glareth,
For also brouke I well mine head,
There may be vnder goodlihead
Couered many a shreud vice,
Therefore be no wight so nice,
To take a loue onely for chere,
Or speech, or for friendly manere,
For this shall euery woman find,
That some man of his pure kind
Woll shewen outward the fairest,

Till he haue caught that what him lest,
And than woll he causes find,
And swere how she is vnkind,

Or false, or priuie, or double was,
All this say I by Eneas

And Dido, and her nice lest,
That loued all to soone a guest,
Wherefore I woll say o prouerbe,
That he that fully knoweth the herbe,
May safely lay it to his eie,
Withouten drede this is no lie.

But let vs speake of Eneas,
How he betraied her, alas,
And left her full vnkindly.

So whan she saw all vtterly, That he would her of trouth faile, And wenden from her into Itaile, She gan to wring her handes two.

"Alas" (quod she) "that me is wo, Alas, is euery man thus true, That euery yere woll haue a-new, If it so long time endure,

Or els three parauenture,

And thus of one he woll haue fame
In magnifying of his owne name,
Another for friendship sayeth he,
And yet there shall the third be,
That is taken for delite,
Lo, or els for singular profite:"
In such words gan complaine
Dido of her great paine,

As me mette dreaming readily,
None other authour alledge woll I.

"Alas" (quod she) "my sweet herte, Haue pitie on my sorrowes smart, And slea me not, go not away.

"O wofull Dido, welaway" (Quod she) vnto her selfe tho.

"O Eneas what woll ye do,

O that your loue ne your bond,
That ye swore with your right hond,
Ne my cruell death" (quod she)
"May hold you still here with me.

"O, haue ye of my death no pite, Iwis mine owne deare herte ye

Know full well that neuer yet,
As farre as euer I had wit,
Agilt you in thought ne in dede.

"O, haue ye men such goodlihede
In speech, and neuer a dele of trouth,
Alas that euer had routh
Any woman on a false man.

"Now I see well, and tell can, We wretched women can no art, For certaine, for the more part, Thus we been serued euerichone, How sore that ye men can grone, Anon as we have you receiued, Certainly we been deceiued, For though your loue lest a season, Wait vpon the conclusion, And eke how ye determine, And for the more part define, O welaway that I was borne, For through you my name is lorne, And mine acts redde and song Ouer all this land in euery tong. "O wicked Fame, for there nis Nothing so swift lo as she is, O sooth is, every thing is wist, Though it be couerde with the mist, Eke though I might duren euer, That I haue done recouer I neuer, That it ne shall be said, alas, I shamed was through Eneas, And that I shall thus judged be: "Lo right as she hath done, now she Woll done eftsoones hardely, Thus say the people priuely :" But that is done, nis not to done, But all her complaint ne her mone Certaine auaileth her not a stre, And whan she wist soothly he Was forth into his ship agone, She into chamber went anone, And called on her suster Anne, And gan her to complaine than, And said, that she cause was, That she first loued him alas, And first counsailed her thereto, But what, whan this was said and do, She roft her seluen to the herte, And deide through the wounds smart, But all the manner how she deide, And all the words how she seide, Who so to know it hath purpose, Rede Uirgile in Eneidos,

Or the Pistels of Ouide,

What that she wrote or that she dide,
And nere it too long to endite,
By God I would it here write,
But welaway, the harme and routh
That hath betide for such vntrouth,
As men may oft in bookes rede,
And all day seene it yet in dede,
That for to thinken it tene is.

Lo Demophon, duke of Athenis,
How he forswore him falsely,
And traied Phillis wickedly,
That kings doughter was of Thrace,
And falsely gan his tearme pace,
And whan she wist that he was false,
She hong her selfe right by the halse,
For he had done her such vntrouth,
Lo, was not this a wo and routh.

Eke looke how false and recheles
Was to Briseida Achilles,
And Paris to Oenone,
And Jason to Hipsiphile,
And eft Jason to Medea,
And Hercules to Dianira,
For he left her for Iolee,
That made him take his death parde.
How false was eke Theseus,
That as the storie telleth vs,
How he betraied Adriane,

The deuill be his soules bane,
For had he laughed or yloured,
He must haue been all deuoured,
If Adriane ne had be,

And for she had of him pite,
She made him fro the death escape,
And he made her a full false jape,
For after this within a while,
He left her sleeping in an isle,
Desart alone right in the see,
And stale away, and let her bee,
And tooke her suster Phedra tho
With him and gan to ship go,
And yet he had sworne to here,
On all that euer he could swere,
That so she saued him his life,
He would taken her to his wife,
For she desired nothing els,
In certaine, as the booke vs tels.
But for to excuse this Eneas
Fulliche of all his great trespas,
The booke saith sauns faile,
The gods bad him go to Itaile,
And leauen Affrickes regioun,
And faire Dido and her toun,
Tho saw I graue how to Itaile
Dan Eneas gan for to saile,
And how the tempest all began,
And how he lost his steresman,

Which that the sterne, or he tooke keepe,
Smote ouer the bord as he sleepe.

And also saugh I how Sibile
And Eneas beside an isle,
To Hell went for to see

His father Anchises the free,

And how he there found Palimurus,
And also Dido, and Deiphebus,
And eueriche tourment eke in Hell
Saw he, which long is for to tell,
Which paines who so list to know,
He must rede many a row
In Uergile or in Claudian,
Or Daunt, that it tellen can.

Tho saw I eke all the ariuaile
That Eneas had made in Itaile,
And with king Latin his treate,
And all the battailes that he
Was at himselfe, and his knights,
Or he had all iwonne his rights,
And how he Turnus reft his life,
And wan Lauina to his wife,
And all the maruellous signals
Of the gods celestials,
How maugre Juno, Eneas

For all her sleight and her compas
Acheued all his auenture,
For Jupiter tooke on him cure,
At the prayer of Uenus,
Which I pray alway saue vs,