The Devonshire Manuscript/Witnesses
Witnesses to The Devonshire Manuscript (British Library Add. MS 17492)
| Contents: A B C M N P S T U W |
Arundel-Harington MS
editArundel-Harington MS c. late 16th century. The Arundel-Harington Manuscript is a verse miscellany originally comprised of 228 leaves, now 145, prepared by, or for, John Harington of Stepney and his son Sir John Harington of Kelston. 55 of the Arundel-Harington poems are attributed to Wyatt.
| My hart I gaue the not to do it payne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My hart I gaue the not to do it payne but to preserve, it was to the taken I servid the not to be forsaken but that I shulde be rewardid agayne I was content thie servant to remayne but not to be payed vnder this fasshion no sens in the is none other reason Displayse the not if that I do refrayne Vnsaciate of my woe and thie desyre Assured by crafte to excuse thie fault but syns it please the to faine a default ffarewell I saye parting from this fyre ffor he that belevith bearing in hand Plowithe in water and sowith in sand | |||
| Pacience thoughe I have not | |||
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| Pacience thoughe I have not the thing that I requyre I must of force god wot forbeare my moste desyre ffor no wayes can I fynde to sayle agaynst the wynde Patience do what they will to worke me woe or spite I shall content me still to thinck both daye and night To thinck and holde my peace Syns theare is no redresse patience without blame ffor I offendid nought I know they know the same thoughe they have chaunged their thought Was ever thought so moved to hate that it hath loved Patience of all mye harme ffor fortune is my foe Patience must be the charme to heale me of my woe tience without offence Ys a paynfull patience | |||
| All women have vertues noble & excellent | |||
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| All women have vertues noble & excellent Whoe can prove that: they do offende Daylye: they serve god withe good intent Seldome: they displease theyr husbandes to their lives ende Alwayes: to please them they doe intende Never: in them a man shall finde shrewdnes Commonly: suche qualityes have women more of lesse | |||
| Was neuer ffile yet half so well yfyled | |||
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| Was neuer ffile yet half so well yfyled To fyle a fyle for any smythes intent As I was made a fylinge instrument To frame other, whyle that I was beguyled but reason loe, hathe at my follye Smyled And pard'ned me, syns that I me repent Of my laste yeares, and of my tyme myspent For youthe led me, and falsehood me mysguyded Yet, this trust I have of great apparaununce Syns that disceyte is aye returnable of vearye force it is agreable That thearwithall be done the recompence Then guyle beguyled playnd shuld be never And the rewarde is lytle trust for ever | |||
| Suche vayne thought as wonted to mislead me | |||
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| Suche vayne thought as wonted to mislead me in desert hope by assured mone maketh me from Companye to lyve alone in following her whome reason bid me flee she fleeith as fast by gentill crueltie and after her my hart wolde faine be gone but armed sighes my way do stopp anone twixt hope and dread lacking my libertie Yet as I gesse vnder disdaynfull brow one beame of pittie is in her Clowdie Looke whiche compforteth the mynd that earst for feare shooke and thearwithall bolded I seeke the way how to vtter the smartt that I suffer within but suche it is I not how to begyn | |||
| ffansye doth know how | |||
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| ffansye doth know how to further my true hart Yf fansye might avowe with faith to take parte But fansye is so fraile and flytting still so faste that faith may not prevaile to helpp me first not laste ffor fansye at his lust Doth rule all but by gesse Whearto shuld I than trust in trouthe or stedastnes Yet wolde I please the fansye of her hart that may me onlye ease and cure my Carefull smart Thearefore my Ladie deare Sett ons your fantasye to make some hope appeare of stedfastnes remedye ffor if he be mye frende and vndertake mye woe Mye greefe is at an end Yf he contynew so Elles fansye doth not right As I deserve and shall to have you day and night to love me best of all t of all | |||
| The lyvelye sparckes that yssue from those eyes | |||
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| The lyvelye sparckes that yssue from those eyes Agaynst the whiche ne vayleth no defence Haue prest my hart and done it none offence With quaking pleasure more then ons or twyse was never man could any thing devyse the Sonne beames to turne with so great vehemence to dase mans sight as by their bright presence Dased am I moche lyke vnto the guyse of one ystreeken with dintt of lighteninge blyndid with the stroke erring heare and theare so call I for helpp I not when ne wheare the paine of my fall patientlie bearinge ffor after the blase as is no wonder of deadly nay heare I the fearfull thonder | |||
| Thoughe I cannot your crueltie constrayne | |||
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| Thoughe I cannot your crueltie constrayne ffor mye good will to favour me agayne thoughe my trew and faithfull love Have no powre your hart to move Yet rew vppon my payne though I your thrall must evermore remayne and for your sake my lybertie restrayne the greattest grace that I do crave ys that you wold vouchesave to rew vppon my payne Though I have not deservid to obtayne so highe rewarde but thus to serve in vayne thowghe I shall have no redresse Yet of right ye can no lesse but rew vppon mye payne But I se well that your highe disdayne Will no wyse graunt that I shall more attayne | |||
| Hart oppressyd with desp'rat thought | |||
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| Hart oppressyd with desp'rat thought yf forced ever to lament Whiche now in me so sore hath wrought that needes to it I must consent Whearfore all ioy I must refuse and crewell will thearof accuse Yf crewell will had not bene guyde Dispayre in me had had no place ffor my trew meaning she well espied and for all that wold geve no grace thearfore all ioye I must refuse and crewll will therof accuse Shee well moght see and yet wolde not and may daylye if that shee will How paynfull is my haples lott Ioyn'de with dispayre me for to spill Whearby all ioye I must refuse Sence Crewell will doth me so use | |||
| So feoble is the threde/ that dothe the burden stay | |||
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| So feoble is the threde/ that dothe the burden stay Of mye poore lyfe in heavie plight/ that fallethe in decay That but it hathe ells wheare/ some ayde or some succours the ronninge spindle of my fate/ anon shall end his cource ffor sens th'unhappie houre/ that did me to departe ffrom my sweete weale and only hope hath staid my lif aparte whiche dothe perswade suche wordes/ vnto my sored mynde Mayntayne thie selfe o woful wight/ some better luck to fynde ffor thoughe thow be depryv'd/ from thie desyred sight Whoe can the tell if thie retourne/ be for thie more delight Or whoe can tell thie losse/ yf thow mayste ones recover Some pleasante howre thie woe may wrapp/ and thee defend and cover This is the trust as yet/ that hath my life sustayned but now alas I se it fainte/ and I by trust am trayned The tyme dothe fleete and I perceyve/ the howres how they bend So fast that I have scant the space/ to mark my commynge end Westwarde the Sonne form out the easte/ dothe scantlye shew his Light Butt in the west he hydes hym streight/ within the darke of night and comes as fast wheare he/ began his pathe a wrye ffrom easte to west/ from west to easte/ so dothe his iourney lye The lyfe so short so fraile/ that mortall men lyve heare So great a waight so heavie chardge/ the bodies that we beare That when I thincke vppon/ the distaunce and the space that doth so farr devyde me fro/ my deere desyred face I know not how t'attayne/ the winges that I requyre to Lifte my waight that I might flye/ to follow my desyre Thus of that hope as yet/ that doth my lyf sustayne Alas I feare and partlye feele/ full lytle dothe remayne Eache place dothe bringe my greefe/ wheare I do not beholde Those lovelye eyes whiche of my thoughtes/ weare wont the keyes to holde Those thoughtes weare plesaunte sweete/ whylest I enioyed that grace My pleasure past my present payne/ when I might well enbrace But for because my want/ shoulde more my woe encreace in watche and sleepe bothe day and night/ mye will dothe never ceace That thinge to wishe whearof/ syns I did leese the sight I never saw that thing that might/ my faithfull hart delight th'uneasye life I leade/ dothe teache me for to meete the fludds the Seas the Landes the Hilles/ that dothe them entermeete Tweene me and those shyning lightes/ that wonted for to cleare mye darked panges of Clowdie thoughtes/ as bright as Phebus spheare It teacheth me also/ what was my pleasaunte state The more to feele by suche recorde/ howe that my wealthe dothe bate If suche recorde alas/ provoke th'enflamed mynde Whiche sprange the daye that I did leave/ the best of me behynde If love forgeat hym self/ by lengthe of absence lett whoe did me guyde o wofull wretche/ vnto this baighted nett Wheare dothe encreace my care/ moche better weare for me Alas the cleare Cristall/ that bright transplendaunnt glasse Dothe not bewraye the coulour hydd whiche vnderneithe it has As dothe th'accombred sprite/ now thoughtfull throwes discover Of fearce delight, of fervent love/ that in our hartes we cover Oute by these eyes it shewethe/ that evermore delight In playnt of teares to seeke redresse/ and eke bothe daye and night These new kynde of pleasures/ whearin most men reioyce To me theye do redoble still/ of stormye sighes the voyce ffor I am one of those/ whome playnte dothe well content It sittes me well myne absente wealthe/ me seemes for to lament and with my teares to geve assaye/ to chardge myne eyes twayne Lyke as my harte above the brincke/ is fraughted full of payne And for because thearto/ of those faire eyes to treate Do me provoke I shall retourne/ mye playnte thus to repeate ffor theare is nothing ells/ that toucheth me so within Wheare they rule all and I alone/ nought but the Case or sckynne Whearfore I do returne/ to them as Well or Springe ffrom whome discendes my mortall woe/ above all other thinge So shall myne eyes in payne/ accompanye my harte That weare the guydes that did it lead/ of love to feele the smarte The Crisped golde that doth/ surmount Appolloes pryde the lyvelye streames of pleasaunt starres/ that vnder it dothe glyde whearein the beames of love/ dothe so encreace theyre heate Which yet so farr touche me so neare/ in colde to make me sweate The wyse and pleasaunt talke/ so rare or ells a lone That gave to me the Curteist guifte/ that earste had never none be farr from me alas/ and everye other thinge I might forbeare with better will/ then it that did me bringe with plesaunte worde and cheere/ redresse of lingred payne whiche wonted ofte in kindled will/ to vertue me to trayne Thus am I dryven to heare/ and herken after newes Mye compforte scante my lardge desyre/ in doutfull trust renewes And yet with more delight/ to mone mye woful cace I must complayne those handes those armes/ that fermly do enbrace Me, from my self, and rule the stearne of mye poore Lyfe the sweete disdaynes the pleasaunt wrathes, and eke the lovelye strife That wonted well to tune/ in temper iuste and meete the rage that ofte did make me err/ by furour vndiscreete All this is hydd me fro/ with sharppe and Craggie hills att others will my longe abode/ my deepe dispaire fulfills But if my hope somtyme/ rise vppe by some redresse it stomblethe straight for feoble faynte/ my feare hath suche excesse Suche is the sorte of hope/ the lesse for more desyre whearbye I feare and yet I truste/ to see that I requyre The restinge place of love/ wheare vertue lyves and growse Wheare I desyre my wearyd life/ somtyme maye take repose Mye songe thow shalt attayne/ to fynde that pleasaunt place wheare shee dothe lyve by whome I Live/ maye chaunce to have this grace when shee hathe readd and seene/ the dreede whear in I serve Betweene her brestes she shall the put/ theare shall she thee reserve Then tell her that I come/ shee shall me shortlye see and yf for waighte the bodye faile/ the Sowle shall to her flye | |||
| To men that know you not | |||
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| To men that know you not you may appeare to be full cleare and without spott but truly vnto me Suche is your wonted kynd by profe so surely knowen as I will not be blynd myne eyes shall be myne owen I will not wynk and see I will not please the soe I will not favour the I will not be thye foe I will not though I can I will not shew my powre I will be no suche man I will not the devour But I am he that will See still as I have seene your goodnes from your yll myne eyes shall still be cleere ffrom motes of blynding love that leadeth men somtyme to trust or they do prove and fall, when they wolde clyme I will not feele the fytt of ioye that fooles do feele when their chief ioye they hytt whiche tourneth as the wheele that lyftes them hye or low whiche is now vpp now downe as floodes do ebb and flow good luck from towne to towne Suche feavers hote and colde suche panges of ioye and payne suche fyttes as do them holde and do by rages raigne shall never sease my hart my freedome shall excuse that thraldom of suche smarte synce I so well may chuse And I indyfferent man can see and holde my peace by profe how well you can begyn to love and ceace and so by sight I shall suffyse my self as well as thowgh I feltt the fall whiche they did feele that fell | |||
| Patience for mye devyse | |||
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| Patience for mye devyse Impatience for your parte Of contraries the guyse Ys ever the overthwarte Patience for I am true the contrarie for you Patience a good cause whie you have no cause at all | |||
| She satte and Sowede that hath done me the wronge | |||
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| She satte and Sowede that hath done me the wronge wheareof I playne and have done manye adaye and whylest she herd my playnt in pituous songe Wisshed my hart the Sampler as it lay the blynde master whom I have servid [sd]so[/sd]long Grudging to heare that he did heare herr saye Made her owne weapon doe her fynger bleede to feele if prickinge weare so good in deede | |||
| Whoe hath heard of suche crueltie before | |||
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| Whoe hath heard of suche crueltie before that when my playnt remembred her my woe that cawsed it she cruell more and more wisshed eache stiche as she did sitt and sow Had pricked my hart for to encreace my sore and as I thinck she thought it had bene so ffor as she thought this is his hart in deede | |||
| Yf then I burne to playne me so | |||
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| Yf then I burne to playne me so what maye it avayle me And if the harme that I suffer be ronne to farr out of measure to seeke for helpp any further what may it availe me What thoughe eache hart that heares me playne Pitieth and playneth for mye payne Yf I no lesse in greef remayne what may it availe me Yea though the want of my releef Displease the causer of my greef Syns I remayne still in mischeef what may it avayle me Suche cruell chaunce doth so me threat Contynuallye inward to freat Then of releace for to entreat what may it availe me ffortune is deafe vnto my call Mye torment moves her not at all and thoughe she turne as dothe a ball what may it availe me ffor in dispaire theare is no reede To want of eare speeche is no speede to lynger still a lyve as deade what may it availe me | |||
| My hope alas hath me abused | |||
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| My hope alas hath me abused And vayne reioycinge hath me fedd Luste and ioye have me refused and carefull playnt is in their steed to moche advauncing slaked my speed myrth hath cawsed my heavynes And I remayne all comfortles Wheare to did I assure my thought without displeasure stedfastlye in fortunes fordge mye ioye was wrought And is revolted readelye I am mystaken wonderlye ffor I thought nought but faithfullnes Yet I remayne all comfortles In gladsome cheere I did delight till that delight did cause my smart and all was wrong wheare I thought right ffor right it was that my true hart shulde not from trothe be sett a parte Syns trothe did cause mye hardynes Yet I remayne all comfortles Somtyme delight did tewne my song and lead my hart full pleasantly and to my self I said among mye happ is comminge hastelye but it hath happid contrarie Assuraunce cawseth my distresse And I remayne all comfortles Then if my note now doth varie and leave his wonted pleasantnes The heavie burden that I carrye Hathe altred all my ioyfulnes no pleasure hathe still stedfastnes but haste hath hurt my happines And I remayne all comfortles | |||
| ffarewell love and all thie Lawes for ever | |||
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| ffarewell love and all thie Lawes for ever thie baited hookes shall tangle me no more Senec and Plato call me from thie lore to perfect wealthe my witt for to endevour in blynd errour when I did persever thie sharppe repulse that pricketh aye so sore Hath taught me to sett in tryfles no store and scape forthe syns lybertie is Lever therefore fare well goe trouble yonger hartes and in me clayme no mroe aucthoritie with Idle youthe go vse thie propertie and theare on spend thie many brittle dartes ffor hetherto thoughe I haue loste all my tyme me lustithe no longer rotten boughes to clyme | |||
| Eache man me tellithe I chaunge most my devise | |||
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| Eache man me tellithe I chaunge most my devise and on my faithe me thinck it good reason To chaunge purpose lyke after the season ffor in everye case to keepe still one guyse ys meete for them that wold be taken wyse and I am not of suche maner condicon but treatid after a dyvers facion and thearvpppon my dyversnes doth ryse but you that blame this dyversnes most Chaunge you no more but still after one rate treate ye me well and kepe ye in the same state and whyle with me dothe dwell this wearied goste My worde now I shall not be variable But alwaies one you owne bothe fyrme and stable | |||
| Now all of chaunge | |||
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| Now all of chaunge, must be my song and from my bownd, now must I breake Since shee so straunge, vnto my wronge doth stoppe her ears, to heare me speake yet none doth know, so well as shee my greif whiche can have no restrainte that faine wold follow, now must flye for faute of eare, vnto my plaint Oh ffortunes might, that eache compells and me the moste, it doth suffise now for my right, to ask nought ells but to withdraw this enterprise And so for gayne, of this good howre whiche of my woe, shall be reliefe I shall refrayne, by paynfull powre the thing that moste, hath bene my griefe And shee vniust, that feareth not in this her fame, to be defyl'de yet once I trust shall be my lott to quyte the crafte, that me beguil'de | |||
| Myne owne I. P. sins you delight to knowe | |||
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| Myne owne I. P. sins you delight to knowe the cawse whye that homweard I do me draw and flye the preace of Coortes whearso they go Rather than to lyve thrall vnder the awe of Lordlye lookes wrapped within my Cloke to will and Lust, learning to sett a lowe It is not because I scorne or mocke the powre of them to whome powre hath lent chardge over vs of right to stryke the stroke but trew it is that I haue ever ment Lesse to esteeme them then the common sorte of owtward thinges that iudge in their entent Without regarde what dothe inward resorte I graunt somtyme that of glorye the fyre doth touche my hart me list not to reporte blame by honour and honour to desyre but how may I nowe this honour attaine to cloke the truthe for prayse without desert of them that list all vyce for to retaine I can not honour them that settes their parte With Venus and Backus all their lif longe nor holde my peace of them though that I smart I can not crowche nor kneele to do so great a wronge to worship them as god on earthe alone that are as woolves theise sillie lambs among I can not with wordes complayne and mone vse wyles for witt and make disceate a pleasure and call crafte Counsaile for profitt still to paynt I can not wrest the law to fill the Cofer with innocent bloud to feede my self fatt and do my self hurt wheare my self I offer I am not he that can allowe the state of highe Cesar and dampne Cato to die that with his death did scape out of the gate from Cesars hands if Livie do not lye and will not lyve wheare lybertie was lost So did his hart the Common weale applie I am not he suche eloquence to boste to make the Crowe singing as the Swanne nor call the lyon of Coward beastes the moste that can not take a mowce as the Catt can and he that dyeth for Hunger of the golde call hym Alexander and say that Pan passeth appollo in mvsyke many folde prayse Sir Topas for a noble tale and scorne the storye that the knight tolde prayse hym for Counsaile that is dronck of ale grynne when he laughes, that beareth the swaye ffrowne when he frowneth, and grone when he is pale on others lustes to hang both day and night and day none of theise poyntes will ever frame in me my witt is nawght I can not learne to waye and moche the lesse of thinges that greatter be that aske helpp of of Coullours to devyse to ioyne the meane with eache extreamytie with the nearest vertue, to cloke all way the vyce and as to purpose lyke wyse it shall fall to presse the vertue that it may not ryse as droncknenes good fellowship to call the frendly foe with his doble face say he is gentell and curtyse there with all and that favell hath a goodlye grace in eloquence and creweltie to name zeale of iustice and chaunge in tyme and place and he that suffreth offence without blame call hym pitifull and hym trew and playne that raileth recklesse to every mans shame Say he is rude that can not lye and fayne the Lecher a lover and tyrrannye to be the right of a Princes raigne I can not I, nor it will not be this is the cause that I wold never yet hang on their sleeves that waye as thow maist see a Chipp of chaunce more than a pound of witt this maketh me, at home to hunt and hawke and in fowle weather at my booke to sytt in frost and snowe then with my bowe to stalke no man doth marke wheare that I ryde or goe in Lustie leases at lybertie I walke and of these newes I feele nother weale nor woe Save that a clogg doth hang yet still at my heele no force for that, for it is ordered so that I may leap both hedge and dytche full well I am not in fraunce to iudge the wyne what saverye sawce these delicates to feele nor yet in spayne wheare one must hym enclyne rather than to be outwardlye to seeme I meddle not with wittes that be so fyne nor flaunders cheere lettes not my wittes to dymmedeeme of black nor whytt, nor takes my wittes awaye With beastlynesse, the beastes so so esteeme nor I am not wheare Chryste is geven in pray for monye, poyson, and treason at Rome a common plague vsed night and day but heare I am in Kent and Christendome among the Mvses wheare I read in Ryme Wheare if thow list my I. P. for to come thow shalt be iudge how I do spend my tyme./ | |||
| My mothers maydes when they do Sowe and Spinne | |||
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| My mothers maydes when they do Sowe and Spinne They sing a songe made of the fieldishe mowse that for because her lyvelode but but thynne woulde nedes go se her Townishe sisters howse she thought, her self endured to greevous payne the stormye blastes her Cave so sore did sowse That when the furrowes swimmed with the rayne she must lye colde and weett in sorrye plight And wursse then that bare meat theare dyd remayne To comfort her, when she her house had dight Somtyme a barley Corne / somtyme a beane ffor whiche she laboured hard bothe day and night In harvest tyme when she might goe and gleane And when her store was stroyed with the flood Then well away for she vndone was cleane Then was she fayne to take in steede of foode Slepe yf shee cowlde her honger to beguyle My sister (quod she) hath a lyving good And hence from me she dwelleth not a myle | |||
A Boke of Balettes
editA Boke of Balettes Wyatt, Sir Thomas. A Boke of Balettes. [Anon.] W. Copland, 1549.
| My penne take payne a lytle space | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My penne take payne a lytle space To folowe the thing that doth me chase And hold my harte so sore And when thou hast this brought to passe My pen, I pray the write no more. Remembre thou hast oft pleased And my sorowes also eased But now vnknowen I knew before That where I trust I am deceyued And yet my pen thou canst do no more. A time thou haddest as other haue To wryte which way my hope to craue That time is past withdraw therefore Sens we do lose let other saue As good leaue of, and write no more. And vse to worke an other way Not as ye would but as ye may For els my life is paste restore And my desyre is my decaye To loue in vayne who so euer shal Of worldly payne it passeth all As in lyke case I find wherfore To hold so fast and yet to fall Alak my pen now wryte no more Syns thou hast taken payne this space To folow that which doth the chase And hath in holde my hert so sore ndA now thou hast this brought to passe My pen I pray the write no more | |||
| The fantasy of my harte | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| The fantasy of my harte That may me only ease, And helpe my careful smarte Therfore my lady dere Let se your fantasye To make some hope appeare Of helpe and remedy For if ye be my frende And vndertake my wo My grefe is at an ende yf ye continew so Els fantasy doth not ryght As I deserue and shall To haue her day and night To loue me best of all | |||
BL Additional MS
editBL Additional MS 4797 16th and 17th centuries. 138 ff. A composite manuscript with two Elizabethan poems in the first gathering of vellum leaves.
| My hart I gave thee not to doe it paine | |||
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| My hart I gave thee not to doe it paine but to preserve Loe it to the was taken My I served the not that I sholde be foresakene but that I soue I sould receve reward againe I was content thy servante to remayne and not to be repayed not this fashion now since sinc in thee it none other reason displease thee not if that I doe refrayne unsatiatat of my wo and thy Assured by craft for to excuse thy faut but since it pleseth to find faut farewell I saye departing from f re for he that doththat ploweth in the so | |||
| At lest withdraw yor creweltie | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| At lest withdraw yor creweltie or force the tyme, to work yor will it is to much extremytie to kepe me pent, in prison still fre from all fault voyd of all cawse withowt all right, against all lawse, how can you vse, more crewel spight then offer wrong, and promes right yet cannot acuse, nor will aquit. Aleuin monthes full, and longer space I haue indur'd, yor deuilishe driftes Whilst you haue sought bothe man and place and set yor snares, with all yor shiftes the faultles foote, to wrape with wile in any guilt, by any gile and how you see it will not be how can you thus for shame agre to kepe him bound, you ought set fre. Yor chance was once, as myne is now to kepe this hold, against your will and then you sware, I know well how thoghe now you swarue, you know how ill but thus the world, hys course dothe passe the priste forgat, that clarke he was and you that then, cried iustice still and now, haue iustice at yor will wrest iustice wrong, against all skill But whie do I thus coldly plain as thoughe it wer my cawse alone whan cawse doth eache man so constrain as England through hath cawse to mone to see yor bloody searche of suche as all the erthe can no way tuche and better wer that all yor kynd lyk hownds in hell, with shame wer shrned then you had myght vnto yor mynd But as the stone that strikes the wall some time rebounds, on th'urlers hed so yor fowll fetche to yor fowll fall may torn and noy the brest it bred and than such mesure as you gaue of right and iustice looke to haue If good or euill, life short or long if false or trew, yf right or wrong and thus till then, I end my song. | |||
| evyn as you lyst my wyll ys bent | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| evyn as you lyst my wyll ys bent yn every thynge to be content to serue yn loue tyll lyf be spent & to reward my loue yn contynent even as you lyst to fayn or fabble ys not my mynd nor to refuse suche as y fynd but even as a lambe humbull & kynd or byrd yn cage to be assynd even as you lyst when all the folke ys com & gon my Ioye & hart agreeth yn one & hath chosen you only alone to be my Ioye or ells my mon even as you lyst yf pyte appeyr yn hes plas or yf dysdayn shew hes fas yet craue y nothyng yn this cas but as you lyst to folow the tras even as you lyst some yn wordes mwche loue doth fayne & some for wordes gyue wordes a gayne thys wordes for wordes yn wordes remayn & yet at last wordes dow obtayne even as ye lyst to crave yn wordes y woll eschewe & loue yn dede y woll ensue wythe the my hole hart faythfull & trew & of my trewth y pray you rew even as you lyst der hart y bed you now fawrwell with as good hart as tong can tell thys tall take trew as the gospell my lyf ye may both saue & spylle even as you lyst | |||
| The wandring gadling in the somer tyde | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| The wandring gadling in the somer tyde that fyndes the adder with his retchles fote startes not dysmayde so sodenly a syde as did gelosy tho ther were no boote when that he saw me sitting by her side that of my health ys very cropp and roote yt pleased me to have so faire a grace to styng the wight that wold have had my place. | |||
| Venemus thorns that be both sharpe and keene | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Venemus thorns that be both sharpe and keene beare somtymes flowers fayre and fresh of hew and poyson ofte ys put in medycine and cawseth helth in man for to renew the fier eke that all consumeth cleene may holp and hurt and yf that this betrew I trust somtyme my harme may be my helth syns every woe is ioyned with somme welth. | |||
| I am not dead although I had a fall | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| I am not dead although I had a fall the sonn returns that was hid vnder clowde and whan fortune hath spytt owt all her gall I trust good luck shalbe to me allowde for I haue seen a shipp into the haven fall when storme hath broke both mast & also shrowde and eke the willow that stowpith with the winde doth ryse againe and greater wood doth bynde | |||
| I finde no peace and all my war is donne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| I finde no peace and all my war is donne I feare and hope I burn an frese like yse I flye above the wind yet can not ryse and nowght I haue yet all the world I season that loose the / nor locketh holdes me in prison and holde me not yet can I escape no wise nor letes me live nor dye at my device and yet of death it gevethe none occasion without eye I see and without tong I playn I desire to perishe and yet aske I helth I love another and yet I have my self I feed in sorow and lawgh in all my paine likewise pleaseth me bothe death and lyfe and my delight is causer of my gryef | |||
| Myne owne I. P. sins you delite to knowe | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Myne owne I. I. P. sins you delite to knowe the cawse whie that whomeward I do me drawe and flee the prese of courtes wherso they goe Rather than to liue thralle vnder the awe of lordely lokes wrapped within my cloke to will and lust, learning to set a lowe It is not because I scorne or mocke the power of them to whom fortune hath lent charg ouer us of right to strike the stroke but trew it is that I haue allwaies ment lesse to esteme them than the common sorte of owtward things that iudge in theire intent with owt regarde what dothe inward resorte I graunt sumtime that of glory the fier doth touch my hart melist not to reporte blame by honor and honor to desier but how may I now this honor assaigne to cloke the truth for praise without desart of them that list all uice for to retaine I cannot honor them that settes their parte with venus and Backus all their life long, nor hold my pease of theim though that I smarte; I cannot crouch, nor kneale to do so great a wrong to worship theim lyke god on earth alone; that ar as wolues theise sillie lambes among I cannot with wourdes complain and mone, vse wiles for wit and make disceite a pleasure and call craft, counsaile, for profitte still to paint, I cannnot wrest the law to fill the coffer with innocent bloode to feade my selfe fat and do most hurt where my selfe I offer: I am not he that can allowe the state of high Cesar and dampne Cato to die that with his death did scape out of the gate from Cesars handes (if Liuie doth not lie.) and willwould not liue where libertie was lost so did his hart the comon weale applie I am not he sutche eloquens to bost to make the crowe singing as the swanne, nor calle the lion of coward of beastes the most, that cannot take a mouce as the cat can; and he that dieth for hunger of the golde call him Alexander, and say that Pan passeth Appollo in musicke manyfold; praise Sir Topias for a noble taile, and scorne the the story that the knight told praise him for counsaile that is dronke asale of ale; grynne when he laughes, that beareth the sway, froune, when he frouneth, and grone when heis pale, on others lustes to hang both day and night, none of these points will euer frame in me: my wit is naught I cannot learne to way and mutch the lesse of things that greater bee; that aske helpe of colours to deuise to ioyne the meane with each extremitie with the nearest uertue to cloke alway the vice, and as to purpose like wise it shall fall to presse the uertue that it may not rise, as dronkennes good fellowship to call, the frendly foe with his dowble face, say he is gentle snd curteis therwithall, and that fauell hath a goodly grace In eloquens, and crueltie to name Zeale of iustice, and chang in tyme and place, and he that suffreth offence without blame call him pitifull, and him trewe and plaine that rayleth recklis to euery mans shame; say he is rude that cannot lye and faine, the lethcer a louer, and tirranye to be the right of a Princes raigne I cannot I no nor yet will not be: this is the cause that I wold neuer yet hang on theire sleues, that way as thou mayst see a chip of chaunce more than a pound of witt: This maketh me at whome to hunt and hauke, and in foule wether at my boke to sit In frost and snowe then with my bowe to stalke; no man doth marke where that i ride or goe; In lustie leases at lybertie I walke and of these newes I feale nether well nor woo, saue that a clogge doth hang yet at my heale, noforce for that, for it is ordered soe, that I may leape bothe hedge and diche full well: I am not in fraunce to iudg the wine what sauerie sauce theise delicates to fele; not yet in spaine where one must him encline; rather than to be outwardly to seame, I meddle not with wittes that be so fine; nor flaunders chere letts nat my sight to dime of blacke nor white, nor takes my wittes away with beastlynes the beastes do so esteame: nor I am not wher Christ is geuen in pray for monye, poyson and treason at Rome, a comon place vsed night and day: but heare I am in kent, and Christendome, among the muses wheare I read and rime, wher yf thou list my I.P. for to cume thow shalt be iudge how I do spend my time. | |||
BL Egerton MS
editBL Egerton MS 2,711 c. 1550. This manuscript is a collection of 123 poems, of which one is copied twice, entered before 1558. Nineteen were added in Elizabethan hands. Twenty-five poems and corrections in three others are in Sir Thomas Wyatt’s hand. One poem and some revisions of Wyatt’s poems are in Nicholas Grimald’s hand from c. 1549. Seventy-three of the entries from before 1558 are signed with “TV,” “VT,” or “Tho,” possibly in Wyatt’s hand. A sixteenth century hand has signed fifteen other poems with “Wyatt.” The MS, without Grimald’s additions, was copied for and partly by Wyatt before 1542 as a collection of Wyatt’s poems.
| Alas the greeffe, and dedly wofull smart | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Alas the greeffe, and dedly wofull smart: O cruell causer of vndeserued chaunge: by great desire vnconstantly to raunge: is this your waye, for proofe of stedfastenes (perdye you knowe : the thing was not so straunge by former prouff) to muche my faithfulnes what nedeth, then, suche coloured dowblenes. I have wailed, thus, weping in nyghtly payn: in sobbis, & sighes : Alas : & all in vayn: in inward plaint : & hertes wofull torment. and yet, Alas, lo, crueltie, & disdayn have, set at noght a faithfull true intent: and price hath priuilege thouth to prevent. But, though I sterve : & to my deth still morne: and pece mele in peces though I be torn: and though I dye, yelding my weried gooste: shall never thing again make me retorn I qwite thenterprise of that, that I have lost too whome so ever lust for too proffer moost. | |||
| My lute awake perfourme the last | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My lute awake perfourme the last labour that thou and I shall wast and end that I have now begon for when this song is song & past my lute be still for I have done As to be herd where ere is none as lede to grave in marbill stone my song may perse her hert so as sone should we then sigh or syng or mone no no my lute for I have done The Rokke do not so cruelly repulse the waves continuelly as she my suyte & affection so that I ame past remedy whereby my lute & I have done Prowd of the spoyle that thou hast gott of simple hertes thorough loves shot by whome vnkynd thou hast theim wone thinck not he haith his bow forgot all tho my lute & I have done Vengeaunce shall fall on thy disdain that makest but game on ernest pain thinck not alone vnder the sonne vnquyt to cause thy lovers plain all tho my lute and I have done Perchaunce they lay the lye wetherd & old the wynter nyght that are so cold playnyng in vain vnto the mone thy wisshes then dare not be told care then who lyst for I have done And then may chaunce the to repent the tyme that thou hast lost and spent to cause they lovers sigh & swoune then shalt thou knowe beaultie but lent and wisshe and want as I have done Now cesse my lute this is the last labour that thou & I shall wast and ended is that we begon now is this song boeth song & past my lute be still for I have done | |||
| My hert I gave the not to do it payn | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My hert I gave the not to do it payn but to preserue it was to the taken I serued the not to be forsaken but that I should be rewarded again I was content thy serunt to remayn but not to be payed vnder this fasshion nowe syns in the is none othee reason displease the not if that I do refrain vnsaciat of my woo and thy desire assured be craft to excuse thy fault but syns it please thy to fain a default farewell I say parting from the fyer for he that beleveth bering in hand weth in the sand | |||
| Yf I had suffered this to you vnware | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Yf I had suffered this to you vnware myn were the fawte & you nothing to blame but syns you know my woo & all my care why do I dy alas for shame for shame I know right well my face my lowke my teeres myn Iyes my wordes & eke my drery chiere have cryd my deth full oft vnto your eres herd of belefe it doeth appere: appere A better prouff I se that ye would have how I ame dede therefore when ye here tell beleveit not all tho ye se my grave cruell vnknynd I say farewell : farewell | |||
| At moost myschief | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| At moost myschief I suffre greif for of relief syns I have none My lute & I continuelly shall vs apply to sigh & mone Nought may prevaill to wepe or waill pitie doeth faill in you Alas Morning or mone complaint or none it is all one as in this case ffor crueltie moost that can be hath soveraynte within your hert Which maketh bare all my welfare nought do ye care how sore I smart | |||
| Patience though I have not | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Patience though I have not the thing that I require I must of force god wot forbere my moost desire for no ways cannot I fynde to saile against the wynde Patience do what they will to worke me woo or spite I shall content me still to thyncke boeth daye & nyte to thyncke and hold my peace syns there is no redresse Patience withouten blame for I offended nought I knowe they knowe thesame though they have chaunged their thought was ever thought so moved to hateh that it haith loved Patience of all my harme for fortune is my foo patience must be the charme to hele me of my woo patience withoute offence is a painfull patience | |||
| Marvaill no more all tho | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Marvaill no more all tho the songes I syng do mone for othre liff then wo I never proved none And in my hert also is graven with lres diepe a thousand sighes & mo a flod of teeres to wepe How may a man in smart fynde matter to reIoyse how may a morning hert set fourth a plesaunt voise Play who that can that part nedes must in me appere how fortune overthwart doeth cause my morning chere Perdy there is no man if he never sawe sight that perfaictly tell can the nature of the light Alas how should I then that never tasted but sowre but do as I began continuelly to lowre But yet perchaunce som chance may chaunce to chaunge my tune and when suche chaunce doeth chaunce then shall I thanck fortune And if I have souche chaunce perchaunce ere it be long for suche pleasaunt chaunce to syng som plaisaunt song | |||
| What no perdy ye may be sure | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| What no perdy ye may be sure thinck not to make me to your lure with wordes and chere so contrarieng swete and sowre contrewaing to much it were still to endure trouth is tryed where craft is in vre but though ye have haved my hertes cure trow ye I dote withoute ending What no perdy Though that with pain I do procure for to forgett that ons was pure within my hert shall still that thing vnstable vnsure and wavring be in my mynde withoute recure What no perdye | |||
| There was never ffile half so well filed | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| There was never ffile half so well filed to file a file for everyany smythes intent as I was made a filing instrument to frame othres while I was begiled But reason hath at my follie smyled and pardond me syns that I me repent of my lost yeres & tyme myspent for yeuth did me lede & falshode guyded Yet this trust I have of full great aparaunce syns that decept is ay retourneable of very force it is aggreable that therewithall be done the recompence then gile begiled plained should be never and the reward litle trust for ever | |||
| A Robyn Ioly Robyn tell me how thy leman doeth and thou shall knowe of myn | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| A Robyn/ Ioly Robyn/ tell me how thy leman doeth/ and thou shall knowe of myn My lady is vnkynd perde alack whi is she so she loveth an othre better then me and yet she will say no Responce I fynde no suche doublenes I fynde women true my lady loveth me dowtles and will chaunge for no newe le plaintif Thou art happy while that doeth last but I say as I fynd that womens love is but a blast and torneth lik the wynde Responce Suche folkes shall take no harme by love that can abide their torn But I alas can no way prove in love but lake & morn le plaintif But if thou wilt avoyde thy harme lerne this lessen of me in othre fieres thy self to warme and let theim warme with the | |||
| Suche vayn thought as wonted to myslede me | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Suche vayn thought as wonted to myslede me in desert hope by well assured mone maketh me from compayne to live alone in folowing her whome reason bid me fle She fleith as fast by gentill crueltie and after her myn hert would fain be gone but armed sighes my way do stoppe anon twixt hope & drede lacking my lib libertie Yet as I gesse vnder that scornefulldisdaynfull browe one beame of pitie is in her clowdy loke which comforteth the mynde that erst for fere shoke And therewithall bolded I seke the way how to vtter the smert that I suffre within but suche it is I not how to begyn | |||
| If fansy would favour | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| If fansy would favour as my deseruing shall my love my paramour should love me best of all But if I cannot attain the grace that I desir then may I well complain my seruice & my hier ffansy doeth knowe how to fourther my trew hert if fansy myght avowe with faith to take part But fansy is so fraill and flitting still so fast that faith may not prevaill to helpe me furst nor last ffor fansy at his lust doeth rule all but by gesse whereto should I then trust in trouth or stedfastnes Yet gladdely would I please the fansy of her hert that may me onely ease and cure my carefull smart Therefore my lady dere set ons your fantasy to make som hope appere off stedfastnes remedy ffor if he be my frend and vndertake my woo my greif is at an ende if he continue so Elles fansy deth not right as I deserue and shall to have you daye & nyght to love me best of all | |||
| The wandering gadlyng in the sommer tyde | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| The wandering gadlyng in the sommer tyde / that fyndes the Adder / with his recheles fote / startes not dismayde, so soudenly a side / as Ialous dispite did : tho there ware no bote / when that he sawe me : sitting by her side that of my helth / is very croppe & rote. it pleased me then to have so fair a grace / to styng that hert that would have my place. | |||
| The lyvely sperkes that issue from those Iyes | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| The lyvely sperkes that issue from those Iyes against the which ne vaileth no defence have prest myn hert : and done it none offence with qwaking pleasure more then ons or twise Was never man could any thing devise the sonne bemes to torn wtih so great vehemence to dase mans sight as by their bright presence dased ame I muche like vnto the gyse Of one I stricken with dynt of lightening blynded with the stroke / erryng here & there so call I for helpe : I not when ne where The pain of my fals patiently bering for after the blase / as is no wounder of dedly nay here I : the ferefull thounder | |||
| Tho I cannot your crueltie constrain | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Tho I cannot your crueltie constrain for my good will to favour me again tho my true & faithfull love have no power your hert to move yet rew vpon my pain Tho I your thrall must evermore remain and for your sake my libertie restrain the greatest grace that I do crave is that ye would vouchesave to rew vpon my pain Tho I have not deserued to obtain so high Reward but thus to serue in vain tho I shall have no redresse yet of right ye can no lesse but rew vpon my pain but I se well that your high disdain wull no wise graunt that I shall more attain yet ye must graunt at the lest this my poure and small request to rew vponreioyse not at my pain | |||
| Some tyme I fled the fyre that me brent | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Some tyme I fled the fyre that me brent / by hillessee by land dales: by water and by wynd. and now I folow the coles that be quent / from Dovour to Calais against my mynde. Lo how desire is boeth sprong & spent / and he may se that whilome was so blynd. and all his laborur now he laugh to scorne / mashed in the breers that erst was all to torne | |||
| What deth is worse then this | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| What deth is worse then this when my delight my wordlywele my Ioye & my blys is from my sight boeth daye & nyght my liff alas I mys ffor though I seme alyve my hert is hens thus botles for to stryve oute of presens of my defens towerd my deth I dryve Hertles alas what man may long endure Alas how lyve I then syns no recure may me assure my liff I may well ban Thus doeth my torment gro in dedly dred alas who myght lyve so alyve as deed alyve to lede a dedly lyff in woo | |||
| So feble is the threde that dothe the burden stay | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| So feble is the threde that dothe the burden stay of my pore lyff In syhevy plyght that fallythe with his syin dekay that but it have frome elles where somesome aide or some socours the runyng spyndell off my fate anon shall end his cours. ffore sins thunhappy howre that did me to depart from my swete wele one only hope hathe heldstaide my lyff apart. Thatwych doth perswade with suche likesuch wordes vnto my wofullsory mynd. mayntene thy sellff o wofull spryte sone better luke to fynd ffor tho thou be depryffd from thy desyerd syght who can the tell iff thi retorne be for thy most delyght or who can tell / thy losse if thou maist ons maist recover: some plesant howre thy wo may wrape and the defend & cover. this is the trust that yet hath my lyff sustaynid and now alas I se it faint and I by trust ame trainid. the tyme doth passeflete and I perceyve thowrs how thei bend so fast alas that that I have skant the space to marke my comyng end. westward the sonne from owt thest skant doth shew his lyght when in the west he hyds hym sellffstraite with in the darke of nyght and cons agayneas fast where he / began his path a wrye from est to west to est from west to thest so dothe his vgeIornei ly the lyff so short so fraile that mortall men lyve here so gret a whaite so hevy charge the body that we bere that when I thinke apon the distance and the space that doth so ferr devid not from my dere desird face I know not how tattayne the wynges that I require to lyfft my whaite that it myght fle to folow my desyre thtusus off that hope that doth my lyff some thing sustayne alas I fere and partly fele full litill doth remayne Eche place doth bryng me grieff where I do not behold those lyvely Iyes thatwich off my thowghtes were wont the kays to hold those thowghtes were plesaunt swete / whilst I enioyd that grace my plesure past / my present payne / thatwher I myght well embrace But for becawse my want shold more my wo encresse In wache in slepe both day and nyght my will doth neuer cesse that thing to wishe wheroff / sins I did lese the syght I neuer saw the thing that myght my faytfull hert delyght thvnsesy lyff I lede doth teche me for to mete the flowdes the sees the land and hilles that doth them entremete twene me and those shining lyghtes that wontyd to clere my darke panges off clowdy thowghtes as bryght as phebus spe It techithe me also to know what was my plesant state the more to fele by suche record how that my welth doth bate. if such record alas provoke thenenflamid my mynd thatwiche sprang that day that I did leve the best of me behynd if love forgett hym sellff by length of absence let who doth me guyd o wofull wreche vnto this baytid net where doth encresse my care? muche better were for me as dome as stone to think on nowght andall thing forgott still absent for to be. alas the Clere Crystall the bryght transparant glas doth not declarebewray the colour hyd wich vnder nethit has as doth thaccomberd sprite thowghtfull throws discover off fiers delyght off fervent love that in our hertes we cover owt by thes Iyes it shewth that euer more delyght In plaint & teres to seke redresse seke& that bothe day & nyght Thes new kyndes off plesurs wherein allmost men reioyse to me thei do redowble still off stormye syghes the voyce ffor I ame one off them whom plaint dothe well content it sittes me well / myn absent welth / me seems me to lament and with my teris for to' assay to charge myn Iyes tweyne sins thatlyke as myn hert on euer above the brink is frawtid full of pa And forby cawse therto / off those fayre Iyes to trete do me provoke / I shall retorne / my plaint thus to repete ffor there is nothing elles that towches me so with in where thei rule all and I alone nowght but the cace or skyn. wherfore I do retorne / to them as well or spryng from whom decendes my mortall wo above all other thing. So shall myn Iyes in payne accopagnie min hert that were the guydes that did it lede of love to fele the smart. The cryspid gold that doth sormount Apollos pryd the lyvely strenes of plesaunt sterres that vnder it doth glyd where in the bemes off love doth still encresse theire hete wiche yet so farre towche me so nere in cold to make me swet The wise and plesaunt talk so rare or elles alone that did me gyve the courtese gyfft that erstsuche had neuer none arbe ferre from me alas / and euery other thing I myght forbere with better will then that that did me bryng with plesant word & chere redresse off all mylingerd payne and wontyd offt within kendlid will into vertu me to trayne. thus ame I dryven to here / and herken affter news my confort skant my large desire in dowtfull trust renews And yet with more delyght to playnemone my wofull cace I must complaine those handes those armes that fermely do embrace Me from my sellff / and rule / the sterne of my pore lyff the swete disdaynes / the plesant wrathes & eke the lovely stryff that wontid offtwell to tune / in tempre Iust and mete the rage that offt did make me erre / by furour vndiscrete all this is hid me fro / with sharp and cragyd hilles my faintyng hopeat other ill will / my brytill lyfflong abode / willingmy diepe dispaire ful but if my hope somtyme ryse vp by some redresse it stumblithe straite / for feble faint / my fere hathe such suche is the feresort off hope / the lesse for more desyre wherby I fere and yet I trust to se that I requyre The restyng place of love / where vertu lyves and grose where I desire my wery lyff also may all sometyme take repose My song you shalt ataine / to fynd that plesant place where she doth lyve / by whome I lyve / permaychaunce she the hthis grace when she hath red and sene the dred wherein I sterve by twene her brestes she shall the put there shall she thee reserve Then saytell her that I come for here I may not taryshe shall me shortly se yff that for whayte the body fayle mythis sowle shall to h | |||
| Goo burnyng sighes Vnto the frosen hert | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Goo burnyng sighes Vnto the frosen hert goo breke the Ise withwhiche pites paynfull dert myght never perse and if mortall prayer in hevyn may be herd at lest I desir that deth or mercy be ende of my smert Take with the payn wherof I have my part and eke the flame from which I cannot stert and leve me then in rest I you require Goo burning sighes I must goo worke I se by craft & art for trueth & faith in her is laide apart Alas I cannot therefor assaill her with pitefull plaint & scalding fyer that oute of my brest doeth straynably stert Goo burning sighes | |||
| To cause accord or to aggre | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| To cause accord or to aggre two contraries in oon degre and in oon poynct as semeth me to all mans wit / it cannot be it is impossible Of hete and cold when I complain and say that hete doeth cause my pain when cold doeth shake my every vain and boeth at ons I say again it is impossible That man that hath his hert away if lyff lyveth there as men do say that he hertles should last on day a lyve & not to torn to clay it is impossible Twixt lyff and deth say what who saeyth there lyveth no lyff that draweth breth they Ioyne so nere & eke I feith to seke for liff by wissh of deth it is impossible Yet love that all thing doeth subdue whose power ther may no liff eschew hath wrought in me that I may rew these miracles to be so true that are impossible | |||
| Beholde, love, thy power how shee dispiseth | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Beholde, love looue, thy power how shee dispiseth: My great payne how litle shee regardeth. the holy oth, wherof she takes takes no cure: broken shee hath : and yet, shee bideth sure, Right at her ease : litle shee thee dredeth. Wepened thou art: and shee vnarmed sitteth: Too thee disdaynfull, all / her liffe shee ledeth: Too mee spitefull, withoute cause, or mesure. Beholde, love: looue: I ame in holde: if pitie thee meveth goo, bend thy bowe: that stony herte breketh: And, with some stroke, revenge the displeasure of thee & him: that sorrowe doeth endure: And, as his lorde, / thee lowely ,/ here entreath entreateth. Beholde, love. looue. | |||
| Thou hast no faith of him that hath none | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Thou hast no faith of him that hath none but thou must love him nedes by reason for as saieth a proverbe notable eche thing seketh his semblable and thou hast thyn of thy conditions yet is it not the thing I passe on nor hote nor cold ofis myn affection for syns thyn hert is so mutable thou hast no faith I thought the true / withoute exception but I perceve I lacked discretion to fasshion faith to wordes mutable thy thought is to light & variable to chaunge so oft withoute occasion Thou hast no faith | |||
| They fle from me / that sometyme did me seke | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| They fle from me / that sometyme did me seke with naked fote stalking in my chambre I have sene theim gentill tame and meke that nowe are wyld and do not remembre that sometyme they put theimself in daunger to take bred at my hand & nowe they raunge besely seking with a continuell chaunge Thancked be fortune it hath ben othrewise twenty tymes better but ons in speciall in thyn arraye after a pleasaunt gyse when her lose gowne from her shoulders did fall and she me caught in her armes long & small therewithall swetely did me kysse and softely saide dere hert howe like you this It was no dreme I lay brode waking but all is torned thorough my gentilnes into a straunge fasshion of forsaking and I have leve to goo of her goodenes and she also to vse new fangilnes but syns that I so kyndely ame serued I would fain knowe what she hath deserued | |||
| Caesar, when that the traytour of Egipt | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Caesar, when that the traytour of Egipt with thonourable hed, did him present: covering his gladnes: did represent playnt, with his teeres /owteward: as it is writt and, Hannyball, eek, when fortune him shitt cleene from his reign: & from all his intent: laught to his folke, / whome sorrowe did torment: his cruelle dispite / for too disgorge, & qwite. so, chaunceth it oft: that every passion the mynde hideth, by coolour contrary: with fayned visage, now sad, now mery. whereby, if I laught, any tyme, or season: it is: for bicause I have not hernother waye, too cloke my care: but, vnder sporrt, & playe. | |||
| If chaunce assynd | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| If chaunce assynd were to my mynde by very kynd of destyne yet would I crave nought els to have but liff & libertie Then were I sure I myght endure the displeasure of crueltie where now I plain alas in vain lacking my liff for libertie ffor withoute thone thothre is gone and there can none it remedy if thone be past thothre doeth wast and all for lack of libertie And so I dryve as yet alyve all tho I stryve with myserie drawing my breth lowking for deth & losse of liffe for libertie But thou that still maist at thy will torn all this ill aduersitie for ye repare of my welfare graunt me but liff & libertie And if not so then let all goo to wretched woo and let me dye for thone or thothre there is none othre my deth or liff with libertie | |||
| Paciens for my devise | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Paciens for my devise Impaciens for your part of contraries the gyse is ever the overthwart paciens for I ame true the contrary for yew Paciens a good cause why you have no cause at all therefore your standeth awry perchaunce sometyme to fall paciens then take him vp and drynck of patiens Cupp Pacience no force for that but brusshe your gowne again pacience spurne not therat let no man knowe your payne pacience evyn at my pleasure when your is owte of mesure Thothr was for me this patience is for you chaunge when ye list let se for I have taken a new pacience with a good will is easy to fulfill | |||
| I have sought long with stedfastnes | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| I have sought long with stedfastnes to have had som ease of my great smert but nought availleth faithfulnes to grave within your stony hert But happe and hit or els hit not as vncertain as is the wynde right so it fareth by the shott of love alas that is so blynd Therefore I plaid the foole invain with pitie when I first began your cruell hert for to constrain syns love regardeth no doulfull man But of your goodenes all your mynde is that I should complain invain this is the favour that I fynde ye list to here how I can plain But tho I plain to please your hert trust me I trust to temper it so not for to care which do revert all shalbe oon in welth or woo ffor fansy rueleth tho right say nay even as the goodeman kyst his kowe none othre reason can ye lay | |||
| Nature, that gave the bee so feet a grase | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Nature, that favce gave the bee so feet a grase,/ to getfynd hony of so wonderous fashion:/ hath taught the spider owte of thesame plasce, to fetche poyson, by straynge alteration. tho this be straynger /, it is a straynger case,/ with oon kyssse by secret operation /, boeth these at ons /, in those your lippes to fynde / in chaunge whereof, I leve my hert behinde. | |||
| To wisshe and want and not obtain | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| To wisshe and want and not obtain to seke & sew ease of my pain syns all that ever I do is vain What may it availl me All tho I styrve boeth day & howre against the streme with all my powre if fortune list for to lowre What may it availl me If willingly I suffre woo if from the fyre me list not goo if then I burn to plaine me so What may it availl me And if the harme that I suffre be run to farre owte of mesur to seke for helpe any further What may it availl me What tho eche hert that hereth me plain pitieth and plaineth for my payn if I no les in greif remain What may it availl me Ye tho the want of my relief Displease the causer of my greif syns that I remain still in myschief What may it availl me Suche cruell chaunce doeth so me threte continuelly inward to fret then of relesse for to trete What may it availl me ffortune is deiff vnto my call my torment moveth her not at all and though she torn as doeth a ball What may it availl me ffor in despere there is no rede to want of ere : speche is no spede to linger still alyve as ded What may it availl me | |||
| Ons as me thought fortune me kyst | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Ons as me thought fortune me kyst and bad me aske what I thought best and I should have it as me list therewith to set my hert in rest I asked nought but my dere hert to have for evermore myn owne then at my ende were all my smert then should I nede no more mone Yet for all that a stormy blast had overtorned this goodely day and fortune semed at the last that to her promes she saide nay But like as oon oute of dispere to soudden hope revived I now fortune sheweth herself so fayer that I content me wonderly My moost desire my hand may reche my will is alwaye at my hand me nede not long for to beseche her that hath power me to comaund What erthely thing more can I crave what would I wisshe more at my will no thing on erth more would I have save that I have to have it still ffor fortune hath kept her promes in graunting me my moost desire of my sufferaunce I have my redres and I content me with my hiere | |||
| Resound my voyse ye wodees that here me plain | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Resound my voyse ye wodees that here me plain boeth hilles and vales causing reflexion and Ryvers eke record ye of my pain which have ye oft forced by compassion as Iudges to here my exclamation among whome pitie I fynde doeth remayn When I it seke Alas there is disdain Oft ye Revers : to here my wofull sounde have stopt your course : and plainly to expresse many a tere by moystour of the grounde the erth hath wept to here my hevenes which causeles to suffre without redresse the howgy okes have rored in the wynde eche thing me thought complayning in their kynde Why then helas doeth not she on me rew or is her hert so herd that no pitie may in it synke my Ioye for to renew O stony hert ho hath this Ioyned the so cruell that art : cloked with beaultie no grace to me from the there may procede but as rewarded deth for to be my mede | |||
| Syns ye delite to knowe | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Syns ye delite to knowe that my torment & woo should still encrese withoute relese I shall enforce me so that liff & all shall goo for to content your cruelnes And so this grevous trayne that I to long sustayn shall sometyme cese and have redresse and you also remain full pleased with my pain for to content your cruelnes Onles that be to light and that ye would ye myght se the distresse and hevines of oon slain owte right therewith to please your sight and to content your cruelnes Then in your cruell mode would god fourthwith ye woode with force expresse my hert oppresse to do your hert suche goode to se me bathe in blode for to content your cruelnes Then cowld ye aske no more then should ye ease my sore and the excesse of myn excesse and you should evermore defamed be therefore for to repent your cruelnes / | |||
| Venemus thornes that ar so sharp & kene | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Venemus thornes that ar so sharp & kene sometyme ber flowers fayre & freshe of hue poyson offtyme is put in medecene and cawsithe helthe in man for to renue ffyre that purgithe allthing that is vnclene may hele / & hurt. and if thes bene true I trust somtyme my harme may be my helthe syns evry woo is Ioynid with some welth. | |||
| rmed | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| rmed mynde affermed uld be conferned that I myght like arme her hert alike not se the like my self in prese I should not cese old my pease d me a pase had taken place d in her grace had found unde ver sovnde st est doeth rest | |||
| Lyke as the swan | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Lyke as the swan doeth strayn her v right so syng I w I dy I dy and yo I shall enforce my that all that her shall knowe th I dy I dy and y your vnkyndnes h and chaunged to paynfull I dy I dy a Consumeth my your fawte melting in I dy I dy My faith bured sh I do bequ to cry I | |||
| Desire alas my master & my foo | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Desire alas my master & my foo / so sore alterd thi sellff how mayst thou se? whome thousome tyme I did sekesowght / chaseththat dryvys me to & fro whomesome tyme thow didst ule / ow lyththat ledythe the & me. tyranie itwhat reson is to rewle thy subiectes so? by forcyd law & mutabilite for where by the I dowtyd to have blame evyn now by hate agayne I dowt the same. | |||
| She sat and sowde / that hath done me the wrong | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| She sat and sowde / that hath done me the wrong/ wherof I plain : and have done many a daye. and whilst she herd my plaint in pitious song/ wisshed my hert the samplar as it lay. the blynd maister / whome I have serued so long/ grudging to here that he did here her saye/ withmade her owne wepon did makedo her fynger blede/ to fele if pricking were so good in dede. | |||
| Who hath herd of suche crueltye before | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Who hath herd of suche tyrannycrueltye before that when my plaint remembred her my woo that caused it / she cruell more & more wisshed eche stitche as she did sit & soo had prickedprykt myn hert / for to encrese my sore and as I thinck / she thought it had ben so for as she thought this is his hert in dede she pricked herd / & made her self to blede | |||
| all to my harme | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| all to my harme sending suche flame from frosen brest against all right for my vnrest And I knowe well how frowerdly ye have mystaken my true Intent and hetherto how wrongfully I have founde cause for to repent but deth shall ryd me redely yf that your hert do not relent and I knowe well all this ye knowe That I and myne and all I have ye may assigne to spill or save Why are ye then so cruell ffoo vnto your owne that loveth you so | |||
| Comfort thy self my wofull hert | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Comfort thy self my wofull hert or shortly on thy self the wreke for length redoubleth dedly smert why sighes thou hert & woult not breke To wast in sight were pitious deth alas I fynd the faynt & weke enforce thy self to lose thy breth why sighes thou hert & woult not breke Thou knowest right well that no redrese is thus to pyne and for to speke pardy it is remediles why sighes thou then & woult not breke It is to late for to refuse the yoke when it is on thy neck to shak it of vaileth not to muse why sighes thou then & woult not breke To sobb and sigh it were but vain syns there is none that doeth it reke alas thou doyst prolong thy pain why sighes thou then & woult not breke Then in her sight to move her hert seke on thy self : thy self to wreke that she may knowe thou sufferdest smert sigh there thy last : and therewith breke / | |||
| he is not ded that sometyme hath a fall | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| IH amehe is not ded all though I hadthat sometyme hath a fall. the Sonne retornesth/that was vnder the clowde. and when fortune hath spitt oute all her gall// I trust good luck to me shalbe allowede. for I have sene a shipp into haven fall after the storme hath broke boeth mast & shrowde and eke the willowe that stoppeth with the wynde doeth ryse again: and greater wode doeth bynd. | |||
| My hope Alas hath me abused | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My hope Alas hath me abused and vain reIoysing hath me fed lust and Ioye have me refused and carefull plaint is in their stede to muche avauncing slaked my spede myrth hath caused my hevines and I remain all comfortles Whereto did I assure my thought withoute displeasure stedfastly in fortunes forge my Ioye was wrought and is revolted redely I ame mystaken wonderly for I though nought but faithfulnes yet I remain all comfortles In gladsom chere I did delite till that delite did cause my smert and all was wrong wher I thought right for right it was that my true hert should not from trouth be set apart syns trouth did cause me hardines yet I remain all comfortles Sometyme delight did tune my song and led my hert full pleasantly and to my self I saide among my happ is commyng hastely but it hath happed contrary assuraunce causeth my distres and I remain all comfortles Then if my note : now do vary and leve his wonted plesauntnes the hevy burden that I cary hath alterd all my Ioyefulnes no pleasure hath still stedfastnes but hast hath hurt my happenes and I remain all comfortles | |||
| ffarewell love and all thy lawes for ever | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| ffarewell love and all thy lawes for ever thy bayted hookes shall tangill me no more Senec and plato call me from thy lore to perfaict welth my wit for to endever In blynde errour when I did perseuer thy sherpe repulce that pricketh ay so sore hath taught me to sett in tryfels no store and scape fourth syns libertie is lever Therefore farewell goo trouble yonger hertes and in me clayme no more authoritie with idill yeuth goo vse thy propertie And theron spend thy many brittill dertes for hetherto though I have spendlost all my tyme me lusteth no lenger rotten boughes to clyme | |||
| ffor to love her for her lokes lovely | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| ffor to love her for her lokes lovely my hert was set in thought right fermely trusting by trought to have had redresse but she hath made an othee promese and hath geven me leve full honestly yet do I not reioyse it greately for on my faith I loved to surely but reason will that I do sesse for to love her> Syns that in love the paynes ben dedly me thincke it best that reddely I do retorn to my first adresse for at this tyme to great is the prese and perilles appere to abundauntely for to love her | |||
| Eche man me telleth I chaunge moost my devise | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Eche man me telleth I chaunge moost my devise and on my faith me thinck it goode reason to chaunge propose like after the season ffor in every cas to kepe still oon gyse ys mytt for theim that would be taken wyse and I ame not of suche maner condition but treted after a dyvers fasshion and therupon any dyvernes doeth rise but you that blame this dyvernes moost chaunge you no more but still after oon rate trete ye me well & kepe ye in thesame state And while with me doeth dwell this weried goost my worde nor I shall not be variable but alwaies oon your owne boeth ferme & stable | |||
| I fynde no peace and all my warr is done | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| I fynde no peace and all my warr is done I fere & hope I burn & freise like yse I fley above the wynde yet can I not arrise and noght I have & all the worold I seson That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison and holdeth me not yet can I scape no wise nor letteth me lyve nor dye at my devise and yet of deth it gyveth me occasion Withoute Iyen I se & withoute tong I plain I desire to perisshe and yet I aske helthe I love an othre and thus I hate my self I fede me in sorrowe & laught in all my pain likewise displeaseth me boeth lyff & deth and my delite is causer of this stryff | |||
| Praise him for counceill that is droncke of ale | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Praise him for counceill that is droncke of ale grynne when he laugheth that bereth all the swaye frown when he frowneth & grone when is pale In othres lust to hang boeth nyght & daye none of these poyntes would ever frame in me my wit is nought I cannot lerne the waye And much the lesse of thinges that greater be then asken helpe of colours of devise to Ioyne the mene with eche extremitie With the neryst vertue to cloke alwaye the vise and as to pourpose like wise it shall fall to expresse the vertue that it may not rise As dronkenes goode felloweshipp to call the frendly ffoo with his dowble face say he is gentill & courtois therewithall And say that favell hath a goodly grace in eloquence and crueltie to name zele of Iustice and chaunge in tyme & place And he that sufferth offence withoute blame call him pitefull & him true & playn that raileth rekles to every mans shame Say he is rude that cannot lye & fayn the letcher a lover and tirannye to be the right of a prynces reigne I cannot I no no it will not be this is the cause that I could never yet hang on their slevis that way as thou maist se A chypp of chaunce more then a pownde of witt this maketh me at home to hounte & to hawke and in fowle weder at my booke to sitt In frost & snowe then with my bow to stawke no man doeth marke where so I ride or goo in lusty lees at liberte I walke And of these newes I fole nor wele nor woo sauf that a clogg doeth hang yet at my hele no force for that for it is ordered so That I may lepe boeth hedge & dike full well I ame not now in ffraunce to Iudge the wyne with saffry sauce they delicates to fele Nor yet in spaigne where oon must him inclyne rather then to be owtewerdly to seme I meddill not with wittes that be so fyne Nor fflaunders chiere letteth not my sight to deme of black and white nor taketh my wit awaye with bestlynes they beestes do so esteme Nor I ame not where Christe is geven in pray for mony poisen and traison at Rome a commune practise vsed nyght and daie But here I ame in kent & christendome emong the muses where I rede & ryme Where if thou list my poynz for to com Thou shalt be Iudge how I do spend my tyme | |||
| My mothers maydes when they did sowe & spyn | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My mothers maydes when they did sowe & spyn they sang sometyme a song of the feld mowse that forbicause her lyvelood was but thyn Would nedes goo seke her townyssh systers howse the thought her self endured to much pain the stormy blastes her cave so sore did sowse That when the forowse swymmed with the rain she must lye cold & whete in sorry plight and wours then that / bare meet there did remain To comfort her when she her howse had dight sometyme a barly corn : sometyme a bene for which she laboured hard boeth daye & nyght In harvest tyme whilest she myght goo & glyne and wher stoore was stroyed with the flodd then well awaye for she vndone was clene Then was she fayne to take in stede of fode slepe if she myght her hounger to begile my syster she / hath a lyving good And | |||
BL Harley MS
editBL Harley MS 7333 c. 1510s-1520s. 129 ff. The Henry VIII MS is a collection of 109 vocal and instrumental pieces. Probably compiled after 1513 by Sir Henry Guilford, Controller of the King’s Household, its English songs have settings for three or four voices by Henry VIII, Kempe, Doctor Cooper, William Cornysh, T. Farthyng, Wyllyam Daggere, Rysbye, J. Lloyd, Pygott, and unnamed composers.
| A robyn gentyl robyn tel me how thy lemman doth and thow shal know off myne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| A robyn gentyl robyn/ tel me how thy lemman doth/ and thow shal know off myne A robyn gentil robyn gentyl thy lemman doth and thow shal know of myne A robyn gentil robyn tel me how thy lemman doth and thow shalt know of myne my lady us vnkynde I wis alac why is she so she louyth another better than me and yet she will say no r robyn I can not thynk such dobylnes for I fynd wo men trew In faith my lady louith me well she will change for no new A robyn | |||
| Some tyme I fledde the fyer that me brent | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Some tyme I fledde the fyer that me brent by see by lande by water, and by wynde And now I follow the coles that be quent ffrom Dover to Callice agaynst my mynde / | |||
| Oh happie dames that may imbrace | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Oh happie dames that may imbrace the fructe of your delight helpe to bewayle the wofull case and eke the heavie plight of me that wonted to reioyse the fortune of my pleasaunt chayse c Good ladies helpe to fyll my morninge voice | |||
| Nature that gave the bee so fatt a grace | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Nature that gave the bee so fatt a grace to fynde honye of so wonderous fascion hathe taught the spider owt of the same place to feche poyson by straynge alteration Thoughe this be straynge yt is a straynger case wth on kys by secret operation bothe theys at ons in those ourlyppes to fynde in chaynge whearof I leave my harte byhynde | |||
| Venemous thornes that are so sharpe and kene | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Venemous thornes that are so sharpe and kene some tyme bere flowers fayer & freshe of hewe poyson oftayne is put in medicine which cawsethe healthe in man for to renewe fyer that purgethe all thynge that is vncleane may heale and hurte. And yf this be trwe I trust my harme to be my healthe sens euerrie woe ys yoyned to some wealthe / | |||
Bodleian Library
editBodleian Library, Rawl. poet. 108 c.1570. 84ff. Possibly transcribed by the Eleanor (Eliner) Gunter who signs her name on f.84v, as many poems throughout are subscribed E. G. This manuscript is an anthology of dance steps, recipes, and miscellaneous verse in English and Latin.
| he that belevethe bearinge in hand | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| he that belevethe bearinge in hand Sowethe in the water & plowethe in the sande. | |||
| Some tyme I fledde the fyer that me brent | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Some tyme I fledde the fyer that me brent by see by lande by water, and by wynde And now I follow the coles that be quent ffrom Dover to Callice agaynst my mynde / | |||
| Oh happie dames that may imbrace | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Oh happie dames that may imbrace the fructe of your delight helpe to bewayle the wofull case and eke the heavie plight of me that wonted to reioyse the fortune of my pleasaunt chayse c Good ladies helpe to fyll my morninge voice | |||
Corpus Christi College
editCorpus Christi College, 168 c. 1558-78. 120 ff. This manuscript is an anthology of Richard Cox, Bishop of Ely, in Latin and English.
| Myne owne Ihon poyntz sins ye delite to know | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Myne owne Ihon poyntz sins ye delite to know the causes why that homeward I me drawe and flee the presse off courtes where so I goo Rather then to lyue thrall vnder the awe of lordly lookes / wrapped within my cloke to wyll and lust lernyng to set a lawe It is not bycawse I scorne or mocke the power of them to whome fortune hath lent charge ouer vs, of ryght to stroke to strike to strik ye stroke but trew it is that y haue allwaies ment Lesse to esteme them then the Commune sorte of owtwarde thinges that iuge in their intent withowt regard that dothe inwarde resort I graunt somtyme that of glorye the fyer dothe touche my harte and me lust not repent blame by honour and honour to desier but howe may I this honour now attayne that cannot dye the colour of blak a lyer My poyntz I cannot frame my tonge to fayne to cloke the trewthe for prayse without desert Of them that lust all vices to retayne I Cannot honour them them that sett their part wythe venus and bacchus all their lyfe longe nor hollde my peace off them althoughe I smart I cannot crouche nor knele nor do suche wrong to wurchippe them like God on erthe alone that are like wolfes thes sely Lambes among I cannot with my worde complayne and mone and suffer nought / nor smart wythout complaynt Nor torne the worde that from my mouthe is gone I cannot speake with loke ryght as a saynt vse wyles for wytt and vse deceyt a pleasure And call craft counsall, for profit still to paynt I cannot wrest the lawe to fyll the cofer with innocent blode to fede my selfe fatte and do most hurte where moste helpe I offer I am not he that can allowe the state off him Caesar and Catho deme to dye / and deme cato to dy that by his deathe dide escape out off the gate from caesars hand if livye did not lye And wold not lyue wher Libertye was lost So did his hart the comon welthe applye I ame not he suche eloquence to bost to marke the singing crowe as the swanne nor call the lyon off coward bestes the most that cannot take a mouse as the catt can and he that diethe for hungar off gold Call him Alexander and saye that pan passeth Apollo in musike many a fold prayes sir thopas for a noble tale and scorne the storye that the knight tolld prayse him for counsall that is dronke off Ale Grynne when he laugheth that beres all the swaye frowne when he frowneth and grone when he is pale On others lust to hang bothe night and daye non off thes poyntz wyll euer frame wyth me My witt is nought I cannot lerne the waye And moche the lesse off thinges that greatest be that asken helpe, off colours off deuise to ioyne the meane with eche extremitie with the nerest vertu to cloke alwey the vice And as to purpose like wyse may fall to presse the vertu so close that it may not ryse As dronkynnes good felowschippe to call the frendly foo with his double face Say this is gentle and curteis therwithall and say that favell hathe a goodly grace In eloquence / And crueltye to name Zeale off iustice, and change in tyme and place And he that suffreth offence without blame call him pityfull And him trewe & playne that rayleth recheles to euery manes shame Say he is rude that cannot lye and fayne the lecher a louer / And tyrannye to be the ryght off a princes rayne I cannot I no no it wyll not be this is the cause I could neuer yet hang on their sleues that waye as thow mayst see A chippe of chaunce more then a pownde of wytt this maketh me at home to hunt and hauke and in the fowle wether at my book to sytt In frost and snow then at my book to sitt with my bowe to stalke no man dothe marke wher to I ryde or goo in lusty lees at libertie I walke and off thes newes I fele nor well ne woo saue of a clogg that yet doth hang at my heele no fors for that for it is ordred that I may leppe bothe hedge and diche full weelle I am not now in france to iuge the wyne Wyth sauory sawces thes dilicates to feele Nor yet in spayne wher one must him enclyne rather then to be owtwardly to seeme I medle not with wyttes that be so ffyne nor flannders chere letteth not my wyt to deme off black and whyght; nor takes my wyttes awaye with bestlines those beastes do esteme Nor am I wher Christ is geuen in praye ffor mony poyson and treason at Rome a common prattice vsed night and daye but here I am in kent and cristendome among the musus muses where I do rede and Rime Wher if thow lust my Poynts for to come thow shalt be Judge how I Dispende my tyme | |||
The Courte of Venus
editThe Courte of Venus. Newly and diligently corrected with many proper Ballades newly amended The Courte of Venus. Newly and diligently corrected with many proper Ballades newly amended. 1563. STC 24650.2: French edition.
| My penne take payne a lytle space | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My penne take payne a lytle space to folow the thing that doth me chase and hath in hold, my hart so sore And when thou hast this brought to passe: My pen I praye the wryte no more. Remember how thou hast oft pleased And al my sorowes also eased But now vnknowen, I knew before That wher I trust I am deceyued And yet my pen thou canst do no more. A tyme thou hadst as other haue To wryt whych way my hope to craue That tyme is past, wythdraw therfore Sens we doo lose and other saue As good leave of, and wryt no more, And vse to worke another way Not as ye would but as ye may For els my lyfe is past restore and my desire is my decay and yet my pen now wryt no more. To loue in vaine whosoeuer shal Of worldly payne it passeth al As in like case, I find wherfore To hold so fast, and yet to fal Alas my pen now wryte no more. Seyng thou hast taken payne this space To folow that whych doth me chase and hath in hold my hart so sore And now to haue brought this to passe My pen I pray the to wryt no more. | |||
| My lute awake performe the last | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My lute awake performe the last Labour that thou and I shal wast, and end that I haue new begone for when this song, is gon and past My lute be stil for I haue done As to be heard wher care is none A lead to graue in a marble stone My song may perse, heart as sone Should we then syng, wepe or mone No more my lute for I haue done. The rocke doth not so cruelly Repulse the waues continually As she my sute and affection. So that I am past al remedy Wherby my lute and I haue done Proud of the splen that thou hast shot Of symple hart, through loues got Vnkind although thou hast them won Thinke not he hath his owne forgot Although my lute and I haue done. Vengeaunce may fal on such dysdayne That maketh but game of earnest paine Trow not alone vnder the sonne Vngently to cause to louers plaine Although my lute and I haue done And then may chaunce the to repent The time that thou hast lost and spent To cause thy louer to sighe and sowne Then shalt thou know beauty but lent And wyshe and want as I haue done My lute be stil this is the last Labour that thou and I shal wast And end that I haue begonne Or when this song is song and past My lute be stil for I haue done. | |||
| If fantasy would favour | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| If fantasy would favour As I deserue and shal My loue my lady paramour should loue me best of al And if I not attayne The grace that I desire Then may I wel complayne My seruyce and my hier Fantasy knoweth how To forbeare my true hart If fantasye might auow Wyth fayth to take part But fantasy is frayle And fletynge styl so fast that faith may not preuail To helpe me fyrst nor last Since fantasy at his luste Doth rule al by gesse wherto shoulde I put trust In truth and stedfastnes. Yet gladly would I please That fantasy of my hart That may me onely ease and helpe my careful smart. Therfore my lady deare Let se your fantasy to make some hope appeare Of helpe and remedy For if ye be my frend And vndertake my wo My gryefe is at an end If ye contynew so. Els fantasy doth not ryght. As I deserue and shal To haue her day and night To loue me best of al. | |||
Magdalene College Pepys MS
editMagdalene College Pepys MS 2553 c. 1570-1586. This manuscript is also known as the Maitland Folio.
| All wemeine Ar guid noblle And excellent | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| All wemeine Ar guid noblle And excellent Quha can say that x thay do offend Daylie x thay serwe thair god with guid intent Sendill x thai displeifs thair husband is to thair lyffis end Allwayis x to pleise thame thai do intend Newir x man can feind in tham bruikilnes Sic quallateifs thay vse mair & les | |||
Marquess of Bath
editMarquess of Bath MS 258 Sixteenth century. 147 ff. The poems by Chaucer, Lydgate, and others were transcribed in the first quarter of the sixteenth century with additions from the Elizabethan period.
| All womenn haue vertues noble and excellent | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| All womenn haue vertues noble and excellent Who can perceve that, they do offend Dailly, theye serve god with goode entent Seldom, they dysplease thear husbandes Always, to please them they do entende Never, man may finde in them shrednes Comonly, suche condicons they haue more or lesse, What man can percewe that woman be yvill euery man that hath wit, gretly will them preise for of vice, they abhoure with all there will prudence mercy & pa they vse always foly wrathe and cruelty, they hate (as men saye Mekenis and vertue, they practise euer Synne, tavoide vertues they do procure Som men speke muche yvill by women truly, therfore they be to blame Nothing, aman may chek in them habondently, they are of grac & gode fame Lackinge, few vertues to agoode nam in them finde ye, all constantnes they lac perdy, and all onhapynes ye may finde in them | |||
National Library of Scotland Advocates
editNational Library of Scotland Advocates 1.1.6 c. 1568. Transcribed by George Bannatyne. The manuscript contains poems by Chaucer and Henryson.
| I am as I am and so will I be | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| I am as I am and so will I be, Bot how that I am nane knawis trewlie; Be it evill be it weill, be I bund be I fre, I am as I am and so will I be. I leid my lyfe indifferently, I mene na thing bot honesty, And thocht men juge diuersly, I am as I am and so will I be. I do nocht rew nor yit complane, Baith mirth and sadnes I do refrane, And vse the folkis that can nocht fane; I am as I am be it plesour or pane. Diuerss do juge as thay trow, Sum of plesour and sum of wo, Yit for all that no thing thay knaw; I am as I am quhair evir I go. But sen that jugeris do tak that wey, Lat every man his jugement say, I will it tak in sport and pley, For I am as I am quha evir sa nay. Quha jugeis weill, weill God him send, Quha jugeis evill, God thame amend, To juge the best thairfoir intend; I am as I am and so will I end. Yit sum thair be that takis delyt To juge folkis thocht for inwy and spyt, Bot quhiddir thay juge me wrang or ryt, I am as I am and so will I wryt. Praying yow all that this dois reid, To trest it as ye do your creid, And nocht to think that I chenge my weid, I am as I am how evir I speid. Bot how that is I leif to yow, Juge as ye list owdir fals or trew, Ye knaw no moir than afoir ye knew; I am as I am quhat evir eschew. And frome this mynd I will nocht fle, Bot to yow all that misiugeis me, I do protest as ye may se, That I am as I am and so will I be. | |||
Plimpton
editPlimpton 276 c. 1554 and 1592. 81 ff. A miscellany in prose and verse, this manuscript was once owned by Anne Bower. It includes entries by Agnes and Willaim Brightman, William Sommer, Philip Symonson, and Richard Johnson.
| To my mishappe alas I fynde | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| To my mishappe alas I fynde that happy happe ys dawngerow And ffortune workythe but her kynde to make the Ioyfull Dolorow | |||
Songes and Sonettes
editSonges and Sonettes, written by the ryght honorable Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other Howard, Henry, Early of Surrey. STC 13860. See also: STC 13861, STC 13862.
| MY hart I gaue thee, not to do it pain | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| MY hart I gaue thee, not to do it pain: But, to preserue, lo it to thee was taken. I serued thee not that I should be forsaken: But, that I should receiue reward again, I was content thy seruant to remain: And, not to be repayd after this fashion. Now, since in thee is there none nother reason: Displease thee not, if that I do refrain. Vnsaciat of my wo, and thy desyre. Assured by craft for to excuse thy fault. But, since it pleaseth thee to fain defaut: Farewell, I say, departing from the fire. For, he, that doth beleue bearyng in hand: Ploweth in the water: and soweth in the sand. | |||
| My lute awake performe the last | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My lute awake performe the last Labour that thou and I shall waste: And end that I haue now begonne: And when this song is song and past: My lute be styll for I haue done. As to be heard where eare is none: As lead to graue in marble stone: My song may pearse her hart as sone. Should we then sigh? or singe, or mone? No, no, my lute for I haue done. The rockes do not so cruelly Repulse the waues continually, As she my sute and affection: So that I am past remedy, Wherby my lute and I haue done. Proude of the spoile that thou hast gotte Of simple hartes through loues shot: By whom vnkinde thou hast them wonne, Thinke not he hath his bow forgot, Although my lute and I haue done. Vengeaunce shall fall on thy disdaine That makest but game on earnest payne. Thinke not alone vnder the sunne Vnquit to cause thy louers plaine: Although my lute and I haue done. May chance thee lie witherd and olde, In winter nightes that are so colde, Playning in vaine vnto the mone: Thy wishes then dare not be tolde. Care then who list, for I haue done. And then may chance thee to repent The time that thou hast lost and spent To cause thy louers sigh and swowne. Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, And wish and want as I haue done. Now cease my lute this is the last, Labour that thou and I shall wast, And ended is that we begonne. Now is this song both song and past, My lute be still for I haue done. | |||
| MAruell nomore altho | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| MAruell nomore altho The songes, I sing do mone: For other lyfe then wo, I neuer proued none. And in my hart, also, Is grauen with letters depe A thousand sighes and mo: A flood of teares to wepe. How may a man in smart Finde matter to reioyce? How may a moornyng hart Set foorth a pleasant voice. Play who so can, that part: Nedes must in me appere: How fortune ouerthwart Doth cause my moorning chere. Perdy there is no man, If he saw neuer sight: That perfitly tell can The nature of the light. Alas: how should I than, That neuer taste but sowre: But do, as I began, Continually to lowre. But yet, perchance some chance May chance to change my tune: And, when (Souch) chance doth chance: Then, shall I thank fortune? And if I haue (Souch) chance: Perchance ere it be long: For (Souch) a pleasant chance, Tosing some pleasant song. | |||
| THe restfull place, renewer of my smart | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| THe restfull place, renewer of my smart: The labours salue, encreasyng my sorow: The bodyes ease, and troubler of my hart: Quieter of minde, myne vnquiet fo: Forgetter of payne, remembrer of my wo: The place of slepe, wherin I do but wake: Besprent with teares, my bed, I thee forsake. The frosty snowes may not redresse my heat: Nor heat of sunne abate my feruent cold. I know nothing to ease my paynes so great. Ech cure causeth encrease by twenty fold, Renewyng cares vpon my sorowes old. Such ouerthwart effectes in me they make. Besprent with teares my bedde for to forsake. But all for nought: I finde no better ease In bed, or out. This most causeth my paine: Where I do seke how best that I may please, My lost labour (alas) is all in vaine. My hart once set, I can not it refrayne. No place from me my grief away can take. Wherfore with teares, my bed, I thee forsake. | |||
| WAs neuer file yet half so well yfiled | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| WAs neuer file yet half so well yfiled, To file a file for any smithes intent, As I was made a filyng instrument, To frame other, while that I was begiled. But reason, loe, hath at my foly smiled, And pardoned me, sins that I me repent Of my lost yeres, and of my time mispent. For youth led me, and falshod me misguided. Yet, this trust I haue of great apparence: Sins that disceit is ay returnable, Of verye force it is agreable, That therwithall be done the recompence. Then gile begiled playnd should be neuer, And the reward is little trust for euer. | |||
| SVch vain thought, as wonted to mislead me | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| SVch vain thought, as wonted to mislead me In desert hope by well assured mone, Makes me from company to liue alone, In folowyng her whom reason bids me fle. And after her my hart would faine be gone: But armed sighes my way do stop anone, Twixt hope and dread lockyng my libertie. So fleeth she by gentle crueltie. Yet as I gesse vnder disdainfull brow One beame of ruth is in her cloudy loke: Which comfortes the mind, that erst for fear shoke. That bolded straight the way then seke I how To vtter forth the smart I bide within: But such it is, I not how to begyn. | |||
| VNwarely so was neuer no man caught | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| VNwarely so was neuer no man caught, With stedfast loke vpon a goodly face: As I of late: for sodainely me thought, My hart was torne out of his proper place. Thorow mine eye the stroke from hers did slide, Directly downe into my hart it ranne: In helpe wherof the blood therto did glide, And left my face both pale and wanne. Then was I like a man for wo amased: Or like the fowle that fleeth into the fire. For while that I vpon her beauty gased: The more I burnde in my desire. Anone the bloud start in my face agayne, Inflamde with heat, that it had at my hart. And brought therwith through out in euery vaine, A quakyng heat with pleasant smart. Then was I like the straw, when that the flame Is driuen therin, by force, and rage of winde. I can not tell, alas, what I shall blame: Nor what to seke, nor what to finde. But well I wot: the griefe doth hold me sore In heat and cold, betwixt both hope and dreade: That, but her helpe to health do me restore: This restlesse life I may not lead. | |||
| THe wandring gadling, in the sommer tyde | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| THe wandring gadling, in the sommer tyde, That findes the Adder with his rechlesse foote Startes not dismaid so sodeinly aside, As iealous despite did, though there were no boote, When that he saw me sitting by her syde, That of my health is very crop, and roote. It pleased me then to haue so fayre a grace, To styng the hart, that would haue had my place. | |||
| THe liuely sparkes, that issue from those eyes | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| THe liuely sparkes, that issue from those eyes, Against the which there vaileth no defence, Haue perst my hart, and done it none offence, With quakyng pleasure, more then once or twise. Was neuer man could any thing deuise, Sunne beames to turne with so great vehemence To dase mans sight, as by their bright presence Dased am I, much like vnto the gise Of on striken with dint of lightenyng, Blind with the stroke, and erryng here and there. So call I for helpe, I not when, nor where, The payne of my fall paciently bearyng. For streight after the blase (as is no wonder) Of deadly noyse heare I the fearfull thunder. | |||
| SOmtime I fled the fire, that me so brent | |||
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| SOmtime I fled the fire, that me so brent, By sea, by land, by water, and by wynde: And now, the coales I folow, that be quent, From Douer to Calais, with willing minde, Lo, how desire is both furth sprong, and spent: And he may see, that whilom was so blinde: And all his labour, laughes he now to scorne, Meashed in the breers, that erst was onely torne. | |||
| TO my mishap alas I fynde | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| TO my mishap alas I fynde That happy hap is daungerous: And fortune worketh but her kynd To make the ioyfull dolorous. But all to late it comes to minde, To waile the want that makes me blinde, Amid my mirth and pleasantnesse, Such chaunce is chaunced sodainly, That in dispaire without redresse, I finde my chiefest remedy. No new kinde of vnhappinesse, Should thus haue left me comfortlesse. Who wold haue thought that my request, Should bring me forth such bitter frute: But now is hapt that I feard lest, And all this harme comes by my sute, For when I thought me happiest, Euen then hapt all my chiefe vnrest. In better case was neuer none And yet vnwares thus am I trapt, My chiefe desire doth cause me mone, And to my harme my welth is hapt, There is no man but I alone, That hath such cause to sigh and mone. Thus am I taught for to beware And trust no more such pleasant chance, My happy happe bred me this care, And brought my mirth to great mischance. There is no man whom happe will spare, But when she list his welth is bare. | |||
| SO feble is the threde, that doth the burden stay | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| SO feble is the threde, that doth the burden stay, Of my poore life: in heauy plight, that falleth in decay: That, but it haue elswhere some ayde or some succours: The running spindle of my fate anone shall end his course. For since thunhappy hower, that dyd me to depart, From my swete weale: one onely hope hath stayed my life, apart: Which doth perswade such wordes vnto my sored minde: Maintain thy self, O wofull wight, some better luck to finde. For though thou be depriued from thy desired sight: Who can thee tell, if thy returne be for thy more delight? Or, who can tell, thy losse if thou mayst once recouer? Some pleasant hower thy wo may wrappe: & thee defend, & couer. Thus in this trust as yet it hath my life sustained: But now (alas) I see it faint: and I, by trust, am trayned. The tyme doth flete, and I se how the howers, do bend So fast: that I haue scant the space to mark my commyng end. Westward the sonne from out the East scant shewes his light: When in the West he hides him strayt, within the dark of nyght. And comes as fast, where he began, his path awry. From East to West, from West to East so doth his iourney ly. The life so short, so fraile, that mortall men liue here: So great a weight, so heauy charge the bodies, that we bere: That, when I think vpon the distaunce, and the space: That doth so farre deuide me from my dere desired face: I know not, how tattain the winges, that I require, To lift me vp: that I might flie, to folow my desyre. Thus of that hope, that doth my life somethyng sustayne, Alas: I feare, and partly fele: full litle doth remain. Eche place doth bring me griefe: where I do not behold Those liuely eyes: which of my thoughts wer wont the keys to hold Those thoughtes were pleasant swete: whilst I enioyed that grace: My pleasure past, my present pain, when I might well embrace. And, for because my want should more my wo encrease: In watch, and slepe, both day, and night, my will doth neuer cease That thing to wish: wherof since I did leese the sight: Was neuer thing that mought in ought my woful hart delight, Thunesy lyfe, I lead, doth teach me for to mete The floodes, the seas, the land, the hylles: that doth then entermete Twene me, and those shene lightes: that wonted for to clere My darked panges of cloudy thoughts, as bright as Phebus spere, It teacheth me, also, what was my pleasant state: The more to fele, by such record, how that my wealth doth bate. If such record (alas) prouoke thenflamed mynde: Which sprong that day, that I did leaue the best of me behynde: If loue forget himself, by length of absence, let: Who doth me guyde (O wofull wretch) vnto this bayted net? Where doth encrease my care: much better wer for me, As dumme, as stone, all thyng forgot, still absent for to be. Alas: the clere cristall, the bright transplendant glasse Doth not bewray the colours hidde, which vnderneth it hase: As doth thaccumbred sprite the thoughtfull throwes discouer, Of feares delite, of feruent loue: that in our hartes we couer. Out by these eyes, it sheweth that euermore delight. In plaint, and teares to seke redresse: and eke both day and night. These kindes of pleasures most wherein men so reioyce, To me they do redubble still of stormy sighes the voyce. For, I am one of them, whom playnt doth well content: It sits me well: myne absent wealth me semes for to lament: And with my teares, tassay to charge myne eies twayn: Lyke as my hart aboue the brink is fraughted full of payn. And forbecause, therto, of those fair eyes to treate Do me prouoke: I wyll returne, my plaint thus to repeate. For, there is nothing els, that toucheth me so within: Where they rule all: and I alone nought but the case, or skin. Wherefore, I shall returne to them, as well, or spring: From whom descendes my mortall wo, aboue all other thing. So shall myne eyes in pain accompany my hart: That were the guides, that did it lead of loue to fele the smart. The crisped golde, that doth surmount Apollos pride: The liuely streames of pleasant starres that vnder it doth glyde: Wherein the beames of loue doe styll encrease theyr heate: Which yet so farre touch me so nere, in colde to make me sweate. The wyse and pleasant talk, so rare, orels alone: That gaue to me the curteis gift, that erst had neuer none: Be farre from me, alas: and euery other thyng I might forbeare with better wyll: then this that dyd me bryng, With pleasant worde and chere, redresse of lingred pain: And wonted oft in kindled will to vertue me to trayn. Thus, am I forst to heare, and harken after newes. My comfort scant my large desire in doutfull trust renewes. And yet with more delite to mone my wofull case: I must complain those handes, those armes: that firmely do embrace Me from my self: and rule the sterne of my poore lyfe: The swete disdaines, the pleasant wrathes, and eke the louely strife: That wonted well to tune in temper iust, and mete, The rage: that oft dyd make me erre, by furour vndiscrete. All this is hydde me fro, with sharp, and ragged hylles: At others will, my long abode my depe dispaire fullfils. And if my hope sometime ryse vp, by some redresse: It stumbleth straite, for feble faint: my feare hath such excesse. Such is the sort of hope: the lesse for more desyre: And yet I trust ere that I dye to see that I require: The restyng place of loue: where vertue dwelles and growes There I desire, my wery life, somtime, may take repose. My song: thou shalt attain to finde that pleasant place: Where she doth lyue, by whom I liue: may chance, to haue this grace When she hath red, and sene the grief, wherin I serue: Betwene her brestes she shall thee put: there, shall she thee reserue Then, tell her, that I cumme: she shall me shortly see: And if for waighte the body fayle, the soule shall to her flee. | |||
| O Happy dames, that may embrace | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| O Happy dames, that may embrace The frute of your delight, Help to bewaile the wofull case, And eke the heauy plight Of me, that wonted to reioyce The fortune of my pleasant choyce: Good Ladies, help to fill my moorning voyce. In ship, freight with rememberance Of thoughts, and pleasures past, He sailes that hath in gouernance My life, while it wil last: With scalding sighes, for lack of gale, Furdering his hope, that is his sail Toward me, the swete port of his auail. Alas, how oft in dreames I se Those eyes, that were my food, Which somtime so delited me, That yet they do me good. Wherwith I wake with his returne, Whose absent flame did make me burne. But when I find the lacke, Lord how I mourne? When other louers in armes acrosse, Reioyce their chiefe delight: Drowned in teares to mourne my losse, I stand the bitter night, In my window, where I may see, Before the windes how the cloudes flee. Lo, what a mariner loue hath made me. And in grene waues when the salt flood Doth rise, by rage of winde: A thousand fansies in that mood Assayle my restlesse mind. Alas, now drencheth my swete fo, That with the spoyle of my hart did go, And left me but (alas) why did he so? And when the seas waxe calme againe, To chase fro me annoye. My doutfull hope doth cause me plaine: So dreade cuts of my ioye. Thus is my wealth mingled with wo, And of ech thought a dout doth growe, Now he comes, will he come? alas, no no. | |||
| GO burning sighes vnto the frosen hart | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| GO burning sighes vnto the frosen hart, Go breake the yse which pities painfull dart, Myght neuer perce and yf that mortall prayer, In heauen be herd, at lest yet I desire. That death or mercy end my wofull smart. Take with thee payn, wherof I haue my part, And eke the flame from which I cannot start, And leaue me then in rest, I you require: Go burning sighes fulfil that I desire. I must go worke I see by craft and art, For truth and faith in her is laid apart: Alas, I can not therfore assaile her, With pitefull complaint and scalding fier, That from my brest disceiuably doth start. | |||
| MY youthfull yeres are past | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| MY youthfull yeres are past, My ioyfull dayes are gone: My life it may not last, My graue and I am one. My mirth and ioyes are fled, And I a man in wo: Desirous to be dedde, My mischiefe to forgo. I burne and am a colde, I frise amids the fire: I see she dothe withholde That is my most desire. I see my helpe at hand, I see my lyfe also: I see where she dothe stande That is my deadly foe. I see how she dothe see, And yet she will be blinde: I se in helpyng me She sekes and will not finde. I see how she doth wry, When I begyn to mone: I see when I come nie, HhwHow faine she wold be gone. I see what will ye more She will me gladly kyll: And you shall see therfore That she shall haue her will. I can not liue with stones It is to hard a fode: I will be dead at once To do my Lady good. | |||
| AL in thy loke my life doth whole depende | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| AL in thy loke my life doth whole depende. Thou hydest thy self, and I must dye therfore. But sins thou mayst so easily helpe thy frend: Why doest thou stick to salue that thou madest sore? Why do I dye? sins thou mayst me defend? And if I dye, thy life may last no more. For ech by other doth liue and haue reliefe, I in thy loke, and thou most in my griefe. | |||
| BEhold, Loue, thy power how she despiseth | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| BEhold, Loue, thy power how she despiseth: My greuous payn how litle she regardeth, The solemne othe, wherof she takes no cure, Broken she hath: and yet, she bydeth sure, Right at her ease, and litle thee she dredeth. Weaponed thou art, and she vnarmed sitteth: To the disdainful, all her life she leadeth: To me spitefull, without iust cause, or measure. Behold Loue, how proudly she triumpheth, I am in hold, but if thee pitie meueth: Go, bend thy bow, that stony hartes breaketh: And with some stroke reuenge the great displeasure Of thee, and himthat sorow doth endure, And as his Lord thee lowly here entreateth. | |||
| THey flee from me, that somtime did me seke | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| THey flee from me, that somtime did me seke With naked fote stalkyng within my chamber. Once haue I seen them gentle, tame, and meke, That now are wild, and do not once remember That sometyme they haue put them selues in danger, To take bread at my hand, and now they range, Busily sekyng in continuall change. Thanked be fortune, it hath bene otherwise Twenty tymes better: but once especiall, In thinne aray, after a pleasant gyse, When her loose gowne did from her shoulders fall, And she me caught in her armes long and small, And therwithall, so swetely did me kysse, And softly sayd: deare hart, how like you this? It was no dreame: for I lay broade awakyng. But all is turnde now through my gentlenesse. Into a bitter fashion of forsakyng: And I haue leaue to go of her goodnesse, And she also to vse newfanglenesse. But, sins that I vnkyndly so am serued: How like you this, what hath she now deserued? | |||
| CEsar, when that the traytour of Egypt | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| CEsar, when that the traytour of Egypt With thonorable hed did him present, Coueryng his hartes gladnesse, did represent Plaint with his teares outward, as it is writ. Eke Hannibal, when fortune him outshyt Clene from his reigne, and from all his entent, Laught to his folke, whom sorow did torment, His cruel despite for to disgorge and quit. So chanceth me, that euery passion The minde hideth by colour contrary, With fayned visage, now sad, now mery. Wherby, if that I laugh at any season: It is because I haue none other way To cloke my care, but vnder sport and play. | |||
| PErdy I sayd it not | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| PErdy I sayd it not: Nor neuer thought to do. As well as I ye wot: I haue no power therto, And if I did, the lot, That first did me enchayne: May neuer slake the knot, But strayght it to my payne. And if I did ech thing, That may do harme or wo: Continually may wring My hart where so I go. Report may alwayes ring Of shame on me for aye: If in my hart did spring The wordes that you do say And if I did ech starre, That is in heauen aboue, May frowne on me to marre The hope I haue in loue. And if I did such warre, As they brought vnto Troye, Bring all my life as farre From all his lust and ioye. And if I did so say: The beautie that me bounde, Encrease from day to day More cruell to my wounde: With all the mone that may, To plaint may turne my song: My life may sone decay, Without redresse by wrong. If I be cleare from thought, Why do you then complayne? Then is this thing but sought. To turne my hart to payne, Then this that you haue wrought, You must it now redresse, Of right therfore you ought Such rigour to represse. And as I haue deserued: So graunt me now my hire: You know I neuer swerued, You neuer founde me lyer. For Rachel haue I serued, For Lea cared I neuer: And her I haue reserued Within my hart for euer. | |||
| NAture that'gaue the Bee so feat a grace | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| NAture that'gaue the Bee so feat a grace, To finde hony of so wondrous fashion: Hath taught the spider out of the same place To fetch poyson by strange alteracion. Though this be strange, it is a stranger case, With one kisse by secrete operacion, Both these at once in those your lippes to finde, In change wherof, I leaue my hart behinde. | |||
| ONce as me thought, fortune me kist | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| ONce as me thought, fortune me kist: And bade me aske, what I thought best: And I should haue it as me list, Therewith to set my hart in rest. I asked but my ladies hart To haue for euermore myne owne: Then at an end were all my smart: Then should I nede no more to mone. Yet for all that a stormy blast Had ouerturnde this goodly day: And fortune semed at the last, That to her promise she said nay. But like as one out of dispayre To sodain hope reuiued I. Now fortune sheweth her selfe so fayre, That I content me wondersly. My most desire my hand may reach: My will is alway at my hand. Me nede not long for to beseche Her, that hath power me to commaunde. What earthly thing more can I craue? What would I wishe more at my will? Nothing on earth more would I haue, Saue that I haue, to haue it styll. For fortune hath kept her promesse, In grauntyng me my most desire. Of my soueraigne I haue redresse, | |||
| REsownde my voyce ye woodes, that heare me plaine | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| REsownde my voyce ye woodes, that heare me plaine: Both hilles and vales causyng reflexion, And riuers eke, record ye of my paine: Which haue oft forced ye by compassion, As iudges lo to heare my exclamacion. Amonge whom, such (I finde) yet doth remaine. Where I it seke, alas, there is disdaine. Oft ye riuers, to hear my wofull sounde, Haue stopt your cours, and plainely to expresse, Many a teare by moisture of the grounde The earth hath wept to hear my heauinesse: Which causelesse I endure without redresse. The hugy okes haue rored in the winde, Ech thing me thought complayning in their kinde. Why then alas doth not she on me rew, Or is her hart so hard that no pitie May in it sinke, my ioye for to renew? O stony hart who hath thus framed thee So cruell? that art cloked with beauty, That from thee may no grace to me procede, But as reward death for to be my mede. | |||
| VEnemous thornes that are so sharp and kene | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| VEnemous thornes that are so sharp and kene, Beare flowers we se full fresh and faire of hue: Poison is also put in medicine. And vnto man his helth doth oft renue. The fier that all thinges eke consumeth cleane May hurt and heale: then if that this be true. I trust sometime my harme may be my health, Sins euery woe is ioyned with some wealth. | |||
| DEsire (alas) my master, and my fo | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| DEsire (alas) my master, and my fo: So sore altred thy self how mayst thou see? Sometime thou sekest, that drieues me to and fro Sometime, thou leadst, that leadeth thee, and me. What reason is to rule thy subiectes so? By forced law, and mutabilitie. For where by thee I douted to haue blame: Euen now by hate again I dout thesamethe same. | |||
| SHe sat, and sowed: that hath done me the wrong | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| SHe sat, and sowed: that hath done me the wrong: Wherof I plain, and haue done many a day: And, whilst she herd my plaint, in piteous song: She wisht my harttheheart samplar, that it lay. The blinde maister, whom I haue serued so long: Grudgyng to heare, that he did heare her say: Made her owne weapon do her finger blede: To fele, if pricking wer so good in dede. | |||
| WHat man hath hard such cruelty before? | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| WHat man hath hard such cruelty before? That, when my plaint remembred her my wo, That caused it: she cruell more, and more, Wished eche stitche, as she did sit, and sow, Had prickt my hart, for to encrease my sore. And, as I think, she thought, it had bene so. For as she thought, this is his hart in dede: She pricked hard: and made her self to blede. | |||
| ONce as me thought, fortune me kist | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| ONce as me thought, fortune me kist: And bade me aske, what I thought best: And I should haue it as me list, Therewith to set my hart in rest. I asked but my ladies hart To haue for euermore myne owne: Then at an end were all my smart: Then should I nede no more to mone. Yet for all that a stormy blast Had ouerturnde this goodly day: And fortune semed at the last, That to her promise she said nay. But like as one out of dispayre To sodain hope reuiued I. Now fortune sheweth her selfe so fayre, That I content me wondersly. My most desire my hand may reach: My will is alway at my hand. Me nede not long for to beseche Her, that hath power me to commaunde. What earthly thing more can I craue? What would I wishe more at my will? Nothing on earth more would I haue, Saue that I haue, to haue it styll. For fortune hath kept her promesse, In grauntyng me my most desire. Of my soueraigne I haue redresse, And I content me with my hire. | |||
| HE is not dead, that somtime had a fall | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| HE is not dead, that somtime had a fall. The Sonne returnes, that hid was vnder clowd. And when Fortune hath spit out all her gall, I trust, good luck to me shall be alowd. For, I haue seen a ship in hauen fall, After that storme hath broke both maste, and shroude. The willowe eke, that stoupeth with the winde, Doth rise againe, and greater wood doth binde. | |||
| FArewell, Loue, and all thy lawes for euer | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| FArewell, Loue, and all thy lawes for euer. Thy bayted hokes shall tangle me no more. Senec, and Plato call me from thy lore: To parfit wealth my wit for to endeuer. In blinde errour when I dyd parseuer: Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore: Taught me in trifles that I set no store: But scape forth thence: since libertie is leuer. Therfore, farewell: go trouble yonger hartes: And in me claime no more auctoritie. With ydle youth go vse thy propartie: And theron spend thy many brittle dartes. For, hytherto though I haue lost my tyme: Me lyst no lenger rotten bowes to clime. | |||
| EChe man me telth, I change most my deuise | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| EChe man me telth, I change most my deuise: And, on my faith, me thinke it good reason To change purpose, like after the season. For in ech case to kepe still one guise Is mete for them, that would be taken wise. And I am not of such maner condicion: But treated after a diuers fashion: And therupon my diuersnesse doth rise. But you, this diuersnesse that blamen most, Change you no more, but still after one rate Treat you me well: and kepe you in that state. And while with me doth dwell this weried gost, My word nor I shall not be variable, But alwaies one, your owne both firme and stable. | |||
| MY loue to skorne, my seruice to retayne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| MY loue to skorne, my seruice to retayne, Therin (me thought) you vsed crueltie. Since with good will I lost my libertie, Might neuer wo yet cause me to refrain, But onely this, which is extremitie, To geue me nought (alas) nor to agree, That as I was, your man I might remain. But synce that thus ye list to order me, That would haue bene your seruant true, and fast: Displease you not: my doting time is past. And with my losse to leaue I must agree. For as there is a certayn time to rage: So is there time such madnes to aswage. | |||
| DRiuen by desire I did this dede | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| DRiuen by desire I did this dede To danger my self without'cause why: To trust thuntrue not like to spede, To speake and promise faythfully: But now the proufe doth verifie, That who so trusteth ere he know. Doth hurt him self and please his foe. | |||
| I Find no peace, and all my warre is done | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| I Find no peace, and all my warre is done: I feare, and hope: I burne, and frese like yse: I flye aloft, yet can I not arise: And nought I haue, and all the worlde I season. That lockes nor loseth, holdeth me in pryson, And holdes me not, yet can I scape no wise: Nor lettes me lyue, nor dye, at my deuise, And yet of death it geueth me occasion. Without eye I se, without tong I playne: I wish to perysh, yet I aske for helth: I loue another, and thus I hate my selfe. I fede me in sorow, and laugh in all my payne. Lo, thus displeaseth me both death and life. And my delight is causer of this strife. | |||
| MYne owne Iohn Poyns: sins ye delite to know | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| MYne owne Iohn Poyns: sins ye delite to know The causes why that homeward I me draw, And fle the prease of courtes, where so they go: Rather then to liue thrall vnder the awe, Of lordly lokes, wrapped within my cloke, To will and lust learnyng to set a law: It is not, because I scorne or mocke The power of them: whom fortune here hath lent Charge ouer vs, of ryght to strike the stroke. But true it is, that I haue alwayes ment Lesse to'esteme them, then the common sort Of outward thinges: that iudge in their entent, Without regard, what inward doth resort. I graunt, sometime of glory that the fire Doth touch my hart. Me list not to report Blame by honour, and honour to desire. But how may I this honour now attaine? That can not dye the colour blacke a lyer. My Poyns, I can not frame my tune to fayne: To cloke the truth, for prayse without desert, Of them that list all nice for to retaine. I can not honour them, that set their part "With Venus, and Bacchus, all their life long: Nor holde my peace of them, although I smart. I can not crouch nor knele to such a wrong: To worship them like God on earth alone: That are as wolues these sely lambes among. I can not with my wordes complaine and mone, And suffer nought: nor smart without complaynt: Nor turne the worde that from my mouth is gone. I can not speake and loke like as a saynt: Vse wiles for wit, and make disceyt a pleasure: Call craft counsaile, for lucre still to paint. I can not wrest the law to fill the coffer: With innocent bloud to fede my selfe fatte: And do most hurt: where that most helpe I offer. I am not he, that can alowe the state Of hye Ceasar, and damne Cato to dye: That with his death did scape out of the gate, From Ceasars handes, if Liuye doth not lye: And would not liue, where libertie was lost, So did his hart the common wealth apply. I am not he, such eloquence to bost: To make the crow in singyng, as the swanne: Nor call the lyon of coward beastes the most. That can not take a mouse, as the cat can. And he that dieth for honger of the golde, Call him Alexander, and say that Pan Passeth Appollo in musike manifold: Praise syr Topas for a noble tale, And scorne the story that the knight tolde: Prayse him for counsell, that is dronke of ale: Grinne when he laughes, that beareth all the sway: Frowne, when he frownes: and grone when he is pale: On others lust to hang both night and day. None of these poyntes would euer frame in me. My wit is nought, I can not learne the way. And much the lesse of thinges that greater be, That asken helpe of colours to deuise To ioyne the meane with ech extremitie: With nearest vertue ay to cloke the vice. And as to purpose likewise it shall fall: To presse the vertue that it may not rise. And as to purpose likewise it shall fall, To presse the vertue that it may not rise. As dronkennesse good felowship to call: The frendly foe, with his faire double face, Say he is gentle and curties therewithall. Affirme that fauell hath a goodly grace, In eloquence: And cruelty to name Zeale of Iustice: And change in time and place. And he that suffreth offence withoutt blame: Call him pitifull, and him true and plaine, That rayleth rechlesse vnto ech mans shame. Say he is rude, that can not lye and faine: The letcher a louer, and tyranny To be the right of a Prynces rayghne. I can not, I no, no, it will not be. This is the cause that I could neuer yet Hang on their sleues, that weygh (as tough mayst se) A chippe of chance more then a pounde of wit. This maketh me at home to hunt and hauke: And in fowle wether at my boke to sit: In frost and snow, then with my bow to stalke. No man doth marke where so I ride or go. In lusty leas at libertie I walke: And of these newes I fele nor weale nor wo: Saue that a clogge doth hang yet at my heele. No force for that, for it is ordred so: That I may leape both hedge and dike full wele, I am not now in Fraunce, to iudge the wine: With savry sauce those delicates to fele. Nor yet in Spaine where one must him incline, Rather then to be, outwardly to seme. I meddle not with wyttes that be so fine, Nor Flaunders chere lettes not my syght to deme Of blacke and white, nor takes my wittes away With beastlinesse: such do those beastes esteme. Nor I am not, where truth is geuen in pray, For money, poyson, and treason: of some A common practise, vsed nyght and day. But I am here in kent and christendome: Among the Muses, where I reade and ryme, Where if thou list myne owne Iohn Poyns to come: Thou shalt be iudge, how I do spende my time. | |||
| MY mothers maides when they do sowe and spinne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| MY mothers maides when they do sowe and spinne: They sing a song made of the feldishe mouse: That forbicause her liuelod was but thinne, Would nedes go se her townish sisters house, She thought, her selfe endured to greuous payne, The stormy blastes her caue so sore did sowse: That when the furrowes swimmed with the rayne: She'must lie colde, and wet in sory plight. And worse then that, bare meat there did remaine To comfort her, when she her house had dight: Sometime a barly corne: sometime a beane: For which she laboured hard both day and night, In haruest tyme, while she might go and gleane. And when her store was stroyed with the floode: Then weleaway for she vndone was cleane. Then was she faine to take in stede of fode, Slepe if she might, her honger to begyle. My sister (quod she) hath a liuyng good: And hence from me she dwelleth not a myle. | |||
Trinity College MS
editTrinity College MS 160 16th century. A composite volume. The first two parts contain a lament of the virgin and Peter Idley’s Instructions. Both of these are from the fifteenth century. The third part, comprised of ff. 57-186, is the Blage MS, which is a verse miscellany compiled by John Mantell from c. 1534-41, and George Blage from c. 1545-48.
| O crewell causere of vndeseruyd chaunce | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| O crewell causere of vndeseruyd chaunce By great desyer inconstantlye to raygne ys this your way ffor proffe of stedffastnes perde ye knowe the thynge was not so straung by fformer proff to myche my ffaythffuln what nedythe then suche colleryd dobbylnes I haue waylid thus wepping in nyghtly payne in sobbis and syghis alas and all in vayne in inward playnt and hartes woffull torment & yet alas lo creweltye and disdayne haue set at nought a ffaythfull trewe intent and pryce hathe pryvylege truthe to present But thoughe I serue & to my dethe styll morne and pen me in pecys though I be torne & though I dye yeldyng my weryed gost shall neuer thyng agayne mak me to torne I quyt the interpryse of that that I haue lost to whom so euer lyst ffor to proffere most | |||
| At laste withdraw youre crueltye | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| At laste withdraw youre crueltye or let me dy a tons hit ys to mych extremety Devysid for the nons to hold me styll alyve in paynes styll for to stryve what may I more susteigne alas that dy wold fayne and cannot dy for payne ffor to the flame wherwith I burne my thought & my desyre when into asshes hit shuld turnne my harte by faruent fyer you send a stormy rayne that doth yt quench agayne and makes my Eyes expresse the teyres that doth opres my lyffe in wretchednes Then when they shuld haue drowned and ouer whelmed my harte the hete doth them confound renewyng all my smarte then doth the flame encresse my turment cannot seasse my paynes than revyve dothe and I remayne alyve with deth styll for to stryve But that you wyll haue my deth and that you wold no nother then shortly for to stope my breth withdrawe the one or other for this youre cruelneste doth let yt self perde o man a lyve nor I dowble deth canne dy | |||
| To wette your yee withoutyn teare | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| To wette your yee withoutyn teare and in goodhelthe to fayne dyssease that you therby myn yee myght bleare therwith your ffrendes to please and thoughe ye thynk ye ned not ffeare yet so ye cannot me apease but as you lyst ffayne fflatyr or glose you shall not wyn yf I do losse Prat and paynt and spare not ye knowe I can me wreke and yf so be ye car not be suer I do not recke and thoughe ye swere yt were not I can bothe swere and speake by god and by the crosse If I haue the mocke ye shall haue it the worse | |||
| Suffryng in sorrowe in hope to attayne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Suffryng in sorrowe in hope to attayne Desyring in ffeare I dar not complayne trowe in belyefe in whome ys all my trust do thou aplye to ease me of my payne for elys to serue and ssuffyr styll I must Hoppe ys my hold yet in dyspayre I speake I dryve ffrom tyme & do not recke how long to love thus after louys lust in stody styll of that I dar not brake wherffore to serue and suffyr styll I must Increas of care I ffynd bothe day and nyght I hat that sometyme was my most delyght the cause therof ye know I haue dyscost and yet to reffrayne yt passythe my myght Wherfor to serue and suffer styll I must Love who so lyst at lenthe he shall well saye to love and leve in feare yt ys no playe record that knowith yf this be notyd Iust that wher as love dothe lede there ys no nay but serue and suffer styll allwaye I must Then ffor to lyve with losse of lybertye at last perchaunce shalbe his remedye and ffor his truthe qud with ffals mistrust who wold not rew t se when wrongffullye thus to serue and suffer styll I must Vntruthe by trust oft tymes hathe me betrayed misvsyng my hoppe styll to be delayed fortune allway I haue the fownd vniost & so with lyk reward now hast thou me payed that ys to serue & suffyr styll I must | |||
| At moste myschyef | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| At moste myschyef I suffer gryeff for of relyef sith I haue noone My lute and I contynually shall vs apply to wele syth or and mon Naught doth prevayle to sighe or wayle sens pety Doth fayle in you al Mornyng or mone complaynte or none hit ys alone as in this case ffor crueltye moste that may be hath sufferaunte within youre harte and makith bare all my welfare naught doo you care how sore I smart Noo tygurs hart ys soo pervarte without desarte to wreke his Ire And ye me kyll for my good wyll Lov how I spyll for my desyre There ys noo love that can you move and I cann prove no nother way Wherfore I must refrayne my luste and banyshe trust frome me alway Thus in myschyef & c / | |||
| pations off all my blame | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| pations off all my blame for I offendyd nowght I wishe she knoyth the same thowgh she haue changyd her thowght was euer thowght so movyd to hate wher hyt hath lovyd patiens thowgh I haue nott the thyng that I requier I must off fors good woott forbere my most desyer fo no way cann I fynd to sayle ageynst the wynd pations Do what ye wyll to worke me woo or spyght I shall content me styll to thynke that ons I myght to thynke & hold my pesse sens ther ys no redresse pations off all my harm seth fortune ys my foo pations shalbe the charm to hele me off my woo pations withowt offens ys a paynfull pations | |||
| My lut awake performe the last | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| My lut awake performe the last labor that thou and I shall wast and end that I haue now begonne ffor when this song ys snge and past my lut be styll ffor I haue donne As to be hard where ere ys none as led to grave in marble stone my song may perse her hart as sonne shuld whe thene synge or walle or mone no no my lut ffor I haue donne The roke Dothe not so crewellye repulse the wayuis contlye wauy as she my sute and affecsion so that I am past remedye wherby my lute and I haue donne Prowd of the spoyle that thou hast gate of simplell harts theow lovis shote vnkynd althoughe thou hast them wyeoun think not he hathe his bowe fforgote althoug my lute and I haue done Vngence may fall on thy disdayne that makes but game of yernyst paygne trowe not alone vnder the sone vnquyt to cause thy louers playne al tho my lute and I haue donne May chaunce the lye whetheryd and old the wentyr nyghtes that ar so cold playning in vayne vnto the mone thy wishys then dar not be told but care who lyst ffor I haue done nd then may chaunce the to repent the tyme that thou has lost and spent to cause thy louer syghe and sowne then shalt thou know bevtye but lent and wyshe and want as I haue done My lute be styll this ys the last labor that thou and I shall wast & end that I haue now begonne ffor when this song ys songyne and past my lut be styll ffor I haue done | |||
| that tym that myrthe dyd styre my shyppe | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| that tym that myrthe dyd styre my shyppe whyche now ys fraut wythe euynes and fortune bot not than the Lyppe but was defence of my destres than in my book wrot my mestres I am yours I you may be wel suer and shall be whyle that Lyffe dothe dure But she hyr selffe whyche then wrot th is nou my extryme enemy aboue all man she dothe me hat reioysinge of my mysery but tho that for hyr sake I dy I shall be hyrs she may be suer as Longe as my Lyffe dothe induer It us not tyme that can were out wythe me that whons is fyrmly set whyle nature kypes hyr cours about my hat from hyr noman can Let tho neuer so soer they me thret yet I am hyrs &c and onys I trust to se the day renuer of my yoy and whelthe that she thes . wourdes to me shall sey in faythe welcoom to me my selffe welcoum my hart welcoum my helthe for I am theyn &c ho me alas what woordes wer thes in couant I myt fynd them soo I reke not what smart or dysses tourment or troubel payne or woo sufferd so that I myt kno that she uer myn I myt be suer and should b &c | |||
| Ther was never fyle halfe so well fylyd | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Ther was never fyle halfe so well fylyd fyle a fyle for any smyth Intent as was mad a fylyng Instrument fra another whyle I was begylyd hath at my folly smylyd pardon me sens that I me repent off my lost yeres & tyme myspent youth dyd me lede & falshed me gydyd yet thys trust I haue off gret app sens that decete ys ay returnabyll off euery fors yt ys agreabyll that therwithall be don the recumpens the gyle for begylyd blamyd shuld be neve & the reward but lyttyll trust for euer | |||
| the that furst my hart dyd strayn | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| the that furst my hart dyd strayn when that thy servant I becam doth bynd me styll for to remayn always yowr own as now I am & yff ye fynd that I do fayn with Iust judgment my self I dam to haue dysdy wyth desdayne yf thowght In me do groo but styll to loue the you stedfastly yff the proffe do no forth shoo that I am yowrs assuerydly lett euery welth all my yoy turne me all to woo to beontynually my chefyst f yff other thoht or new request do sese my hart but only thys & yff wythIn my weryd brest be hyd on thowght that mene amys I do desyer that my nrest may styll Incres & I to mys that I loue best yff my loue be hyd on spoot off fals decete & dublylnes or yff I mynd to slyp the knoot by want off fayth or stedfastnes let all my servys be forgoot & when I wold haue sefe redres esteme me nott but yff that I consume In payn wyth do burnyng syghes & farvent loue and dyly seke non other gayn but wyth my dedes thes wordes to proue e thynkes off yght I shuld obtayn that ye shuld mynd for to remoue your gret dysdayn and nend off thys my song In to yowr handes I do submytt the dedly grefe the payn so strong wych In my hart be fyrmly shytt and when ye lyst redres my wrog sens well ye knoo thys paynfyll fytt hath last to l | |||
| To my myshap alas I fynde | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| To my myshap alas I fynde that happy hap ys dangerus & fortune workyth but her kynd to make the Ioyfull dolorus but all to lat hyt cumes In mynd to wayle the want that made me blynde so often waryd amydes my myrth & plesantnes such chance ys chansyd sodenly that In dyspere to haue redres I fynd my chefyst remedy no new kynd off vnhappynes shuld thus haue left me comfortles so often wa Who wold haue thowght that my request shuld bryng me forth such bytter frute but now ys hapt that I ferd lest & all thys harm cumes by my svte for when I thowgh me happyest evyn then hapt all my chefe vnrest so oftyn waryd In better case was never none & yet vnwares thus am I trappt my chefe desyer doth cause me mon & to my harm my welth ys hapt ther ys no man but I alone that hath such cause to sygh & mone so oftyn w thus am I tawght for to beware & trust no more such all plesant chance my happy hap hath bred thys care & browght my myrth to grete yschance ther ys no man that hap vyll spare but when she lyst hys welth ys bare thus am I waryd | |||
| Myght I as well within my songe belaye | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Myght I as well within my songe dbelaye the thing I wolde as in my hart I maye repentens shulde Drawe frome those eyes Salt tearis with cryes, remorce and grudge of hart causles as cause that I haue ssuffred smart O yf myght I ellis enclose my paynfull breast that that myght be in syght my great vnrest ther shulde ye see tormentes remayngne as hell of payne to move your crewell hart causles by cause that I haue suffred smart Or myght Ther ys in hell no suche a feruent fyere as secret hete of inward hotte desyere that wyll not let the flame appayre that I haue here within my wastyd hart causles by cause that I haue suffred smart Yet you cause yt and ye may cause my welthe ons cause yt then retorne vnto my helthe and of all mene releve that man that no thing can but crye releve this hart causles by cause that I haue souf smart Redres ye owght that harme that ye haue donne yt ys no game that ye nowe haue bygonne but worthye blame ye shall remayne to do hym payne that knowythe not thought of causles by cause that I haue suffred smart | |||
| If chaunce assygnyd | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| If chaunce assygnyd wer to my mynd by very kynd of destine yet wold I crave | |||
| Perdy I sayd hytt nott | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Perdy I sayd hytt nott nor newer thowght to doo as well as I ye wott I haue no powr thertoo and yff I dyd the lott that furst dyd chayne do never slake the knoott but strayter to my payn and yff I dyd ech thyng that may do harm or woo contynually may wryng my hart wherso hytt goo report may alway ryng off shame on me for nay yf In my hart dyd spryng theys wordes that ye do say and yff I dyd ech starr that ys In hevyn aboue may frown on me to mar the hope I haue In loue and yff I dyd such warv as the browght In to troy bryng all my lyfe afar from all hys lust & Ioy and yf I dyd so say the bewty that me bownd Incresse from day to day more cruell to my world wyth all the mone that may to playnt may turn my song my lyfe may sone decay wythowt redresse my worng yf be clere from thowght why do ye then complayn why do ye then complayn then ys thys thyng but sought to put me to more payn then that that ye haue wrowght ye must hyt now redresse off ryght therfore ye ought such rygor to represse and as I haue deseruyd so grant me now my hyer ye kno I never swarvyd ye never found me lyer for rakhell haue I seruyd for lya caryd I never and her I haue reseruyd wythIn my hart for euer | |||
| pations for my devyse | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| pations for my devyse Impatiens for yowr part off contraryse the gyse ys euer ouerthwart patiens for I am trew the contrary for yow patiens a good cause why ye haue no cause at all therfore yowrs standes awrey may chance sumtyme to fall pations then take hy vp & drynke off patiens cup patiens no fors for that but brushe your gown agayn patiens spurn not theratt Let no mann knoo yowr payn patiens evyn at my plesuer when yowrs ys owt off mesuer the tother was for me thys patiens ys for yow change when ye lyst lett se for I haue tayne a new patiens wyth a good wyll ys esy to fullfyll | |||
| Nature that gaue the bee so fayre agrace | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Nature that gaue the bee so fayre agrace To featch honye aftre so strange a fasion hath taught the speydre out of the same place To fetch poyson by strange alteration though thys be strange yt ys a stranger thyngecase by one kysse of secrat operation Both thesse at ones in those thy Lyppes to fynde In change wherof I leve my hart behynd | |||
| Lk as the swann towardes her dethe | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Lk as the swann towardes her dethe d strayne here voyce with dolfull no ryght so syng I with wast of brethe I dy I dy and you regard yt not I shall infforce my ffayntyng brethe that all that hir this dedlye note shall cause>know that you do cause my dethe I dy I dye and you regard yt not your vnkyndnes hathe sworne my dethe and chaungyd hathe my pleasant not to paynful syghis that stoppe my brethe I dy I dy and you regard yt not Consumyth my lyff ffaylethe my brethe your ffaut ys fforger of this not I do bthe my wery brethemelting in tearis a crewell dethe I dy I dy and you regard yt not My fayth with me after my dethe beryd shall to this not I do bequeth wery brethe I dye and you regardid it not | |||
| A my harte A what eileth the | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| A my harte A what eileth the to set soo Lyght be libertye makyng myee bounde where I was fre a my harte A what ayleth the Where thow warte ryde frome all Dist voide of all payne and pensyfnes to chauoose agayne a new mestres a my harte a what Ayleth the When thow warte well thow couldes not hold to turne agayne thow warte to bolde thus to renew my Sorowes olde A my harte a what Ayleth the Thow knowest full well that but of Late I was turned owt of Loues gate & now to gyde me to this mate a my harte a what Ayleth the I hopped full well all had ben doone but now my hoppe Is tane and wone to my turment To yeld soo Sone | |||
| Hate whome ye lyste for I care not | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Hate whome ye lyste for for I care not loue whome ye lyste and spare not doo what ye lyst and fere not Seymake what ye lyst and dred not for as for me I am not but euyn as on that rekyth not whither ye hate or hate not for in youre loue I dote not wherfore I pray you forget not But loue whome ye lyst and spare not | |||
| Love hathe agayne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Love hathe agayne put me to payne & yet all ys but lost I serue in vayne and am certayne of all myslyked most Bothe het and cold Dothe me behold and combr so my mynd that when I shuld speak and be bold yt drawith me styll behynd My wyttes be past my lyf dothe wast my comffort ys exyled and I in hast am lyk to tast how love hathe me begyllid Onles that Ryght may im may in her syght optaye pety & gra why shuld a wyght haue bewty bryght yf marsye haue no place Yet I alas an in suche case that bak I cannot goo but styll forthe trace A pacient pace & suffer seckret woo / ffor wythe the wynd my fyered mynd dothe styll incres in flame and she vnkynd that dyd me bynd dothe torne yet all to game yet can no paygne make me reffrayne nor here nor ther to range I shall retayne hop to attayne a hart that ys so strange But I requyer the paynffull ffyer that oft dothe mak me swere for all my hyer with lyk desyere to geve here hart a hette Then shall she prove how I her love & what I haue her offeryd whiche shuld here move ffor to remove the payne that I hau sufferd A better ffee / then she geve me/ she shall of me attayne ffor wher as she showyd creweltye she shall me hart optayne | |||
| Wythe seruyng styll | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Wythe seruyng styll this this haue I wonne ffor my good wyll to be vndonne And ffor redres of all my payne disdaynffulnes I have agayne and ffor reward of all my smart lo thus vnhard I must departe Wherfore all ye that that that after shall by fortune be as I am thrall Exempell take what I haue wonne thus for hes sake to be vndone | |||
| Dryven by desire I dyd this dede | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Dryven by desire I dyd this dede to daunger my self without cause why to trust the vntrue not lyke to sped to speke and promas faithfully but now the prouf doth verefy that whoo soo trustith ar he knoo Doth hurt hym self and pleas his foo | |||
| I doo not reIoyse nor yet complayne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| I doo not reIoyse nor yet complayne both myrth and sadnes I doo refrayne and vse the mene sens folkys wyll fayne yet I am as I am be hit pleasure or payne Men doo Iuge as the doo trow sum of pleasure & sum of woo yet for all that nothing the know but I am as I am whersoeuer I goo. But sens that Iudggers take that way Let euery man his Iudgement say I wyll hit take in sport and play yet I am as I am woosoeuer say nay Who Iudggis well god well them send whoo Iudgith yll god them amende to Iuge the best therfore intende for I am as I am and soo wyll I ende yet sum the at take delyght to Iudge folkes thowght by outwarde sight but whether the Iudge wrong or Ryght I am as I am and soo doo I wright I pray ye all that this doo rede to trust hit as ye doo your cred and thynck not that I wyll change my wede for I am as I am how sooeuer I spede But how that ys I Leue to you Iudge as ye Lyst false or trew ye know no more then afore ye knew but I am as I am what soeuer insew And frome this mynd I wyll not flye but to all them that myseIudge me I do protest as ye doo se that I am as I am and soo wyll I Dy | |||
University of Pennsylvania Latin MS
editUniversity of Pennsylvania Latin MS 35 15th-16th centuries. This manuscript contains Latin sermons by John Felton from the mid-15th century. The poem on the front flyleaf was entered in the early 16th century.
| I ham as I ham & so will I be | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| I ham as I ham & so will I be. but howe I. ham none knowithe truly I lede my lyff in differntly. I meane nothink but honeste. Thoghe folkes Iugge diversly. ytt I ham as I ham & so will I be, Sum therebe that dothe mystrowe. sum of pleasure & sum of woo. yet for all that no thinke they knowe. ffor I ham as I ham wher euer I goo, Sun therbe that dothe delyght. to Iugge folkes for envy & spythe. But whether they Iuge wronge or ryght. I ham as I ham & soo will I wryght | |||
The workes of Geffray Chaucer newly printed
editThe workes of Geffray Chaucer newly printed, with dyuers workes whiche were neuer in print before STC 5068. See also: STC 5069, STC 5074.
| And nowe my pen alas/ with whiche I write | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| And nowe my pen alas/ with whiche I write Quaketh for drede/of that I muste endyte | |||
| O very lorde/ O loue/ o god alas | |||
|---|---|---|---|
|
O very lorde/ O loue/ o god alas | |||
| O wery goste/that errest to and fro | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| O wery goste/that errest to and fro Why nylt thou flyen out of the wofullest Body that euer might on grounde go O soule/lurkyng in this woful neste Flye forthout myn herte/ and let it preste And folowe alway Creseyde thy lady dere Thy right place is nowe no lenger here | |||
| what I may done I shal/whyle I may dure | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| what I may done I shal/whyle I may dure On lyue/ in turment and in cruel payne This infortune/or this disauenture Alone as I was borne I wol complayne Ne neuer wol I sene it shyne or rayne But ende I wol as Edippe in derknesse My sorouful lyfe/ and dyen in distresse | |||
| O ye louers/that hygh vpon the whele | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| O ye louers/that hygh vpon the whele Ben sette of fortune/in good auenture God lene that ye fynden aye loue of stele And longe mote your lyfe in ioye endure But whan ye comen by my sepulture Remembreth that your felowe resteth there For I loued eke/though I vnworthy were | |||
| For thylke grounde/ that beareth the wedes wicke | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| For thylke grounde/ that beareth the wedes wicke Beareth eke these holsome herbes/as ful ofte Next the foule nettle/rough and thicke The rose wexeth/soote/smoth/ and softe And next the valey is the hyll a lofte And next the derke night the glade morowe And also ioye is next the syne of sorowe | |||
| Womans herte vnto no cruelte | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Womans herte vnto no cruelte Enclyned is / But they be charytable Pytous/ deuoute/ ful of humylite Shamefaste/ debonayre/ and amyable Dredeful / and of wordes measurable What women these haue not parauenture Foloweth not the way of her nature | |||
| Is this a faire auaunt/is this honour | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Is this a faire auaunt/is this honour A man him selfe accuse thus and diffame Is is good to confesse him selfe a traytour And bring a woman to sclaundrous name And tel howe he her body hath do shame No worshipe may he thus to him conquer But great disclaunder vnto him and her | |||
| To her nay/ yet was it no represe | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| To her nay/ yet was it no represe For al for vertue was that she wrought But he that brewed hath al this myschefe That spake so fayre/ & falsely inward thought His be the sclaunder/ as it by reason ought And vnto her thanke perpetuel That in suche a nede helpe can so wel | |||
| If al the erthe were parchement scribable | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| If al the erthe were parchement scribable Spedy for the hande/and al maner wode Were hewed and proporcioned to pennes able Al water ynke/in damme or in flode Euery man beyng a parfyte scribe & good The cursydnesse yet and disceyte of women Coude not be shewed by the meane of penne | |||
| O marble herte/and yet more harde parde | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| O marble herte/and yet more harde parde Whiche mercy may not perce for no labour More strange to bowe thna is a myghty tre What auayleth you to shewe so great rigour Pleaseth it you more to se me dye this hour Before your eyen/for your disporte and play Than for to shewe some comforte and socour To respyte dethe/whiche chaseth me alway | |||
| Alas/what shulde it be to you preiudyce | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Alas/what shulde it be to you preiudyce If that a man do loue you faythfully To your worshyp/eschewynge euery vyce So am I yours/and wyl be veryly I chalenge nought of right/and reason why For I am hole submyt vnto your seruyce Right as ye lyst it be/right so wyl I To bynde my selfe/where I was in fraunchise | |||
| Howe frendly was Medea to Iason | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Howe frendly was Medea to Iason In conqueryng of the flece of golde Howe falsely quyt he her trewe affection By whom vyctorie he gate as he wolde Howe may this man for shame be so bolde To falsen her/that fro his dethe and shame Him kept/ and gate him so great prise & name | |||
| For though I had you to morowe agayne | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| For though I had you to morowe agayne I myght as wel holde April from rayne As holde you to maken stedfast Almighty god/of trouthe the souerayne Wher is the trouth of man/who hath it slayne She that hem loueth/shal hem fynde as fast As in a tempest is a rotten maste Is that a tame beest/that is aye fayne To renne away/whan he is lefte agaste | |||
| If it be so that ye so cruel be | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| If it be so that ye so cruel be That of his dethe you lysteth nought to retch That is so trewe and worthy/ as we see No more than of a iaper or a wretch If ye be suche/your beaute may nat stretch To make amendes of so cruel a dede Auysement is good before the nede | |||
| Wo worth the fayre Geme vertulesse | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Wo worth the fayre Geme vertulesse/ Wo worthe that herbe also that dothe no bote Wo worthe the beaute that is routhlesse Wo worth that wight that trede eche vnder fote And ye that ben of beaute croppe and rote If therwithal in you ne be no routhe Than to harme ye lyuen by by trouthe | |||
| For loue is yet the moste stormy lyfe | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| For loue is yet the moste stormy lyfe Right of him selfe/that euer was begonne For euer some mistrust/or nyce stryfe There is in loue/some cloude ouer the sonne Therto we wretched women nothyng conne Whan vs is wo/but wepe and syt and thynke Our wreche is this/our owne wo to drinke | |||
| Also wicked tonges ben so prest | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| Also wicked tonges ben so prest To speke vs harme/eke men ben so vntrewe That right anon as cessed is her lest So cesseth loue/ and forthe to loue a newe But harme ydo is done/who so it rewe For though these men for loue hem first to rende Ful sharpe begynnyng breketh ofte at ende | |||
| And who that saythe that for to loue is vyce | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| And who that saythe that for to loue is vyce Or thraldom/though he fele in it distresse He eyther is enuyous/or right nyce Or is vnmyghty for his shreudnesse To louen for suche maner folke I gesse Diffamen loue/as nothyng of him knowe They speken/but they bente neuer his bowe | |||
| But nowe helpe god/to quenche al this sorow | |||
|---|---|---|---|
| But nowe helpe god/to quenche al this sorow | |||