Though unto me dreadfull ywere the chaunce, No maner of gentilnes oweth me to blame, For I had levir fuffre' of deth the penaunce Than the should for me' have difhonor or fhame, Or in any wife lofin her gode name; So wifely God for his endleffe mercie Graunt every lovir joy of his lady!

A ballade.

O Merciful and o merciable
Kyng of kyngis, and fathir of pite,
Whose might and mercie is incomperable!
O prince eterne, o mightie Lorde! faie we,
To whom mercie is given of propirtie,
On thy fervaunt that lieth in prifon bounde
Have thou mercie or that his herte wounde.

And that thou wilt graunt to him thy prifoner

Fre libertie, and lofe hym out of pain,
All his defires, and all his hevie chere
To all gladneffe thei were restored again,

Thy high vengeance why fhould thou not refrain,

And fhewe mercie, fith he is penitent?
Now helpe hym Lorde, and let him not be shente
But fith it' is fo there is a trefpas done,
Unto Mercie let yelde the treipaffour,
It is her office to redreffe it fone,
For trefpaffe to Mercie is a mirrour,
And like as the fwete hath the price by foure,
So by Trefpaffe Mercie hath all her might,
Without Trefpalle Mercie hath lacke of light.

What should phifike doe but if fikenes were?
What nedith falve but if there were a fore?
What nedith drink wher thirst hath no power?
What fhould Mercie do but Trefpas go' afore? -
But Trefpas Mercie woll be litil flore,
Without Trefpas ner execufion
Maie Mercie have ne chief perfeccion."

The canfe at this time of my writyng,
And touchyng Mercie, to whom I make mone,
Is for fere left my fovereigne and fwetyng,
I menin her that lovelyir is none,
With me' is difplefed for caufis more than one;
What caufis thei be that knoweth God and fhe,
But fo do n'ot 1; alas, it forthinketh me!

What se she' in me, what defaute or offence?
What have I doe that the on me difdaine?
How might I dee come into her prefence,
To tell my complaint, whereof I were faine?
I drede to loke, to fpeke, or to complaine,
To her that hath my herte every dele;
So help me God I would al thing wer wele:
For in this cafe came I never or now
In Lov'is dauncè fo ferre in the trace,
For with myne efe efcapin I ne mow
Out of this datingir, except her gode grace,

For though my countenaunce be mery' in her

face,

As femith to her by worde or by chere,
Yet her gode grace fettish myne hertè nere.
And if my loveraine have any marvaile
Why I to her now and afore ywrote,
She maie well think it is no grete travaile

To him that is in love brought fo hote;
It's a fimple tre that fallitch with one ftroke;
That mene I, though that my foveraine to forn
Me hath denied yet grace may come to morn.
Maiftris, for the gode will I have you ought,
And evir fhall as long as life durith,
Pitie your fervant, kepe him in your thought,,
Give' him fom comfort or medi'cin, and curith
His ague, that encrefith, that renuith":
So grievous ben his paines and fighis fore
That without mercy his dais be forlore.

Go, litil bill, go forth, and hie the fast,
Recommende me', and excufe me as you can,
For very feble am I at the laft,

My pen is woren, my hew is pale and wan,
My eyen ben fonke, disfigured like no mau,
Till Deth his dart that caufith for to smert

My corps have confunied, then farewel fwet hert.
Doughtre' of Phebus in vertuous apparence,
My love elect in my remembèraunce,
My carefull herte diftrained cause of absence,
Till ye my' empreffe me relefe my grevaunce
Upon you 'is fet my life, myne attendaunce,
Is fette without recure I wis untill
Ye grauntin my true herte to have his will.

Thus, my dere fwetyng! in a traunce I lye,
And fhal, til drops of pitic from you spring,
I mene your mercie, that lieth my herte nye,
That me maii rejoyce, and caufe for to fyng
Thefe termes of love; lo I have won the ring,
My godely, maiftris; thus of his gode grace
God graunt her bliffe in heven to have a place!

Here followeth how Mercurie, with Pallas, Venus, and Juno, appered to Paris of Troie, be flepyng by a a fountain *.

Pallas loquitur ad Parin. SONNE of Priam, gentill Paris of Troie, Wake of thy flepe, beholde us goddeffes thre, We havin brought to the encrefe of joye, To thy difcrefion reportyng our beautie; Take here this appill, and well advise the Whiche of us is the fairift in thy fight, And give thou it, we praie the, gentil knight. Juno loquitur primo.

If fo be thou give it to me, Parise, This fhal I give unto thy worthines, Honour and conqueft, nobley, lofe and prife, Victorie, courage, force, and hardines, Gode avinture, and famous manlines; For that appil all this give I to the, Confidir this Parife, and give it me. Venus loquitur ad Parin.

Naie, give me, and this I fhall you give, A glad afpecte with favour and fairnes,

The title in Speght and Try runs, How Mercury. with Pallas, Verus, and Minerva, c. but as Pallas and Minerva is one and the fame goddess, and as Juno was the third goddess at this interview with Paris, her name in the title, and as one of the appellants to the Trojan prince, is folâtituted for that of Mintrrub,

I HAVE a ladie, where fo that the be,
That feldome is fhe foveraine of my thought,
On whose beautie when I beholde and fe,
Remembryng me how well fhe is ywrought,
I thanke Fortune, that to her grace me brought,
So faire is fhe, but nothyng angelike,
Her beautie is unto none othir like.

For hardily and fhe were made of braffe,
Her face and all, fhe hath enough fairnesse;
Her eyen ben holow' and grene as any graffe,
And ravenish yelowe is her founitreffe,
Thereto fhe hath of every comelinesse,
Soche quantitie givin her by Nature
That with the left fhe is of her ftature.
And as a bolt her browis ben ibent,
And betill browed fhe is alfo with all,
And of her witte as fimple' and innocent
As is a childe that can no gode at all;
She is not thicke, her ftature is but small;
Her fingers ben litil and nothyng long;
Her fkin is fmothe as any ox'is tong:
Thereto fhe is fo wife in daliaunce,
And befet her wordis fo womanly,
'That her to here it doeth me difplefaunce,
For that the faieth is faied fo connyngly
That when there be no mo then the and I
I had levir fhe were of talkyng flill
Then that she should fo godelie fpechè fpill.
And flothe none shall ye have in her entreffe,
So diligent is the and vertuleffe,
And fo bufie aie all gode to undreffe,
That as the ape she is harmleffe,
And as an harnet meke and pitèleffe,
With that she is fo wife and circumspecte
That prudence none her folie can infecte.

Is it not joye that foche one of her age,
Within the boundes of fo grete tendirnesse,
Should in her werke be fo fadde and so sage,
That of the weddyng fawe all the nobleffe
Of Quene Jane, and ywas tho as I geffe
But of the age of yeris ten and five?
I trowe there are not many foche alive.
For, as Jefu my finfull foulè fave,
There n'is creture in all this worlde livyng
Like unto her that I would gladly have,
So plefith mine hert that godely fwete thyng,
Whofe foule in hafte unto his blis ybring

That first her formid to be a creture, For were the well of me I did no cure.

An other balade.

O Moffie quince! yhangyng by your stalke,
The whiche no man dare plucke awaie nor take
Of all the folke that paffe forthe by or walke,
Your flouris freshe be fallen awaie and shake;
I am right forie, maiftreffe; for your fake;
Ye feme a thyng that all men have forgoten ;
Ye be fo ripe ye waxin almofte roten.

Your uglie cherè deinous and froward,
Your grene eyin, frownyng and nothing glad,
Your chekes, enbolned like a melowe costard,
Colour of orenge, your breftes fatournad,
Gilt on wara'ntile, the colour wil not fade,
Bawfin buttockid, belied like a tonne,
Men crie S. Barba'ry at the' losing of your

LOKE well aboute ye that loviris be,
Let not your luftis lede you to dotage,
Be not enamoured on all thynges ye fe;
Sampfon the forte and Salomon the fage
Decevid were for all ther grete courage;
Men demin it right that thei fe with eye,
Beware therefore, The blind eteth many' a flie.

I mene of women; for all ther cheres queint, Truft them not to moch, ther truthe is but trefon

The fairift outward wel can thei ypaint,
Ther stedfastneffe endurith but a fefon,
For thei faine frendlines and worchin trefon,
And for thei are chaungable natu'rally,
Beware therefore, The blind eteth many' a flie
What wight on lyve ytruftith on ther cherss
Shall have at laft his guerdon and his mede;
Thei can fhave nerir than rafours or fheres:
All is not gold that fbinith, mon take hede,
Their galle is hid undir a fugrid wede;
It is but queint ther fantafie to' afpie,
Beware therefore, The blind eteth many' a flie.
Though all the worldè doe his bufie cure
To make women standin in stablenesse
It would not be; it is against nature;
The worlde is doe when thei lacke doublenes,
For thei laugh and love not, this is expreffe ;
To truft on them it is but fantasie,
Beware therfore, The blind eteth many' a fiie.

Women of kindè hath condicions thre;
The first is that thei be full of diffeite,
To fpinnin alfo is ther propertie,
And women have a wondirfull conseite,
For thei can wepe oft, and all is a fleite,
And when thei lift the tere is in the eye,
Beware therfore, The blind eteth many' a flie.

In foth to faie, though all the yerth fo wanne
Wer parchement fmoth, white and fcribabell,
And the gret fe, that called is the' Ocean,
Were tournid into ynke blacker than fabell,
Eche sticke a pen, eche man a fcrivener abel,
Not coud thei writin woman's trechirie,
Beware therfore, The blind eteth many' a flie.

A balade declaring that womens chaflite doeth moche excel all trefure worldly.

IN womanhede, as auctours al ywrite,
Most thing commendid is chaste honeste,
Thing most flaund'erous ther nobles to atwite,
As when women of hafty fraëlte
Exceden the bondes of wifely chastite,
For what availeth lynage or rial blode
When of ther lvying the report 'is not gode?
The holy bed defoilid of marriage
For ones defoiled may not recovered be.
The vice goth forth and the froward langage
By many' a relme and many' a grete cite;
Slaundir hath a custome, and that' is grete pite,
That true or fals, by a contrarious foune,
Onis areise it goth not lyghtly downe :

For when a lechour by force or mastry
Defoulid hath of virgins the clennes,
Widous oppreffed, and ly in advoutry,
Affailid wives that stode in stablenes,
Who may then ther flaundèrous harme redreffe
When ther gode name is hurt by foch report?
For fame loft ones can ner have bis refert.

A thefe may robbe a man of his richesse,
And by fome mene make reftitucion,
And fome man maye dyfherit and oppreffe
A povir man from his poffeffion,
And aftir make him fatisfaccion,
But No man may restore in no degre
A maid robbid of ber virginite,

A man may also bete a caftil doune, And bilde it aftir more freshe to the sight, Exile a man out of his regioune,

And him revoke whether it be wrong or right,
But No man bath the powir ne the might
For to reftore the palace virginal

Of Chaflite when brokin is the wal.

Men may also put out of ther fervice,
And officirs remeve out of ther place,
And at a day, when Fortune lift devise,
They may again restorid be to grace,
But Ther n'is timè notbir fet ne space,
Nor ner in flory neithir rad ne fain,
That maydenbode loft recovered was again :

For whiche men fhouldin have a conscience,
Rewe in ther hertis and repentin fore,
And havin a remorce of gret offence
To ravifhe thing which they may not restore,
For it is faide, and hath be said ful yore,
The emeraud grene of parfite chafite
Stole ones away may not recovered be.

And hard it is to ravishe a trefour
Whiche of nature is not recuperable;
Lordship may not of kinge nor emperour
Reforme a thinge whiche is nat reformable;
Ruft of defame is infeparable,
And Maidinbode gloft of newe or yore
No man in live may it again reflore.

The Romanes olde thorough ther pacience
Suffirid tyrauntes in ther tyranyes
On ther cites to do grete violence,
The peple to oppreffe with ther roberies,
But them to punishe they fet gret espies
On falle avouterers, as it is wel couth,
Which widowes ravish and maidens in the
youth.

Chaucer's wordes unto his ozon fcrivenere,

ADAM SCRIVENERE, yf ever it the befalle
Boece or Troiles for to write new

Under thy longe lockes thou maift have the fcalle,

But after my makynge thou write more true,
So ofte adaye I mote thy werke renew
It to correcte and eke to rubbe and scrape,
And al is thorow thy negligence and rape.