The cõforte of louers

Title: The cõforte of louers

Author: Stephen Hawes

Release date: August 15, 2007 [eBook #22326]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22326

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The comforte of louers made and compyled by Steuen Hawes somtyme grome of the honourable chambre of our late souerayne lorde kynge Henry ye seuenth (whose soule god pardon). In the seconde yere of the reygne of our most naturall souerayne lorde kỹge Henry the eyght.

¶ The prohemye.

THe gentyll poetes / vnder cloudy fygures

Do touche a trouth / and cloke it subtylly

Harde is to cõstrue poetycall scryptures

They are so fayned / & made sẽtẽcyously

For som do wryte of loue by fables pryuely

Some do endyte / vpon good moralyte

Of chyualrous actes / done in antyquyte

Whose fables and storyes ben pastymes pleasaunt

To lordes and ladyes / as is theyr lykynge

Dyuers to moralyte / ben oft attendaunt

And many delyte to rede of louynge

Youth loueth aduenture / pleasure and lykynge

Aege foloweth polycy / sadnesse and prudence

Thus they do dyffre / eche in experyence

I lytell or nought / experte in this scyence

Compyle suche bokes / to deuoyde ydlenes

Besechynge the reders / with all my delygence

Where as I offende / for to correct doubtles

Submyttynge me to theyr grete gentylnes

As none hystoryagraffe / nor poete laureate

But gladly wolde folowe / the makynge of Lydgate

Fyrst noble Gower / moralytees dyde endyte

And after hym Cauncers / grete bokes delectable

Lyke a good phylozophre / meruaylously dyde wryte

After them Lydgate / the monke commendable

Made many wonderfull bokes moche profytable

But syth the are deed / & theyr bodyes layde in chest

I pray to god to gyue theyr soules good rest

¶ Finis prohemii.

Whan fayre was phebus / wt his bemes bryght

Amyddes of gemyny / aloft the fyrmament

Without blacke cloudes / castynge his pured lyght

With sorowe opprest / and grete incombrement

Remembrynge well / my lady excellent

Saynge o fortune helpe me to preuayle

For thou knowest all my paynfull trauayle

I went than musynge / in a medowe grene

Myselfe alone / amonge the floures in dede

With god aboue / the futertens is sene

To god I sayd / thou mayst my mater spede

And me rewarde / accordynge to my mede

Thou knowest the trouthe / I am to the true

Whan that thou lyst / thou mayst them all subdue

Who dyde preserue the yonge edyppus

Whiche sholde haue be slayne by calculacyon

To deuoyde grete thynges / the story sheweth vs

That were to come / by true reuelacyon

Takynge after theyr hole operacyon

In this edyppus / accordynge to affecte

Theyr cursed calkynge / holly to abiecte

Who dyde preserue / Ionas and moyses

Who dyde preserue yet many other mo

As the byble maketh mencyon doubles

Who dyde kepe Charles frome his euyll fo

Who was he / that euer coude do so

But god alone / than in lyke wyse maye he

Kepe me full sure / frome all inyquyte

Thus as I called to my remembraunce

Suche trewe examples / I tenderly dyde wepe

Remembrynge well / goddes hyghe ordynaũce

Syghynge full oft / with inwarde teres depe

Tyll at the last / I fell in to a slepe

And in this slepe / me thought I dyde repayre

My selfe alone / in to a garden fayre

This goodly gardyn / I dyde well beholde

Where I sawe a place / ryght gaye and gloryous

With golden turrettes / paynted many afolde

Lyke a place of pleasure moste solacyous

The wyndowes glased / with crystall precyous

The golden fanes / with wynde and melody

By dulcet sounde / and meruaylous armony

The knottes flagraunt / with aromatyke odoure

With goodly sprynges / of meruaylous mountaynes

I dyde than tast / the redolent lycoure

Moost clere and swete / of the goodly vaynes

Whiche dyde me ease / somwhat of my paynes

Tyll to me came / a lady of goodly age

Apareyled sadly / and demure of vysage

To me she sayd / me thynke ye are not well

ye haue caught colde / and do lyue in care

Tell me your mynde / now shortly euerydele

To layne the trouthe / I charge you to beware

I shall for you / a remedy prepare

Dyspeyre you not / for no thynge that is past

Tell me your mynde / and be nought agast

Alas madame / vnto her than I sayd

It is no wonder / of myne inwarde payne

yf that my herte be meruayllously dysmayde

My trouthe and loue / therof is cause certayne

Dyuers yeres ago / I dyde in mynde retayne

A lady yonge / a lady fayre of syght

Good // wyse / and goodly / an holsome sterre of lyght

I durst not speke vnto her of my loue

Yet vnder coloure I dyuers bokes dyde make

Full pryuely / to come to my aboue

Thus many nyghtes / I watched for her sake

To her and to hers / my trouthe well to take

Without ony spotte / of ony maner yll

God knoweth all myn herte / my mynde & my wyll

The hygh dame nature / by her grete myght & power

Man / beest / and foule / in euery degre

Fro whens they came at euery maner houre

Dooth trye the trouthe / without duplycyte

For euery thynge must shewe the properte

Gentyll vngentyll / dame nature so well tryet

That all persones it openly espyeth

The lorde and knyght / delyteth for to here

Cronycles and storyes / of noble chyualry

The gentyll man gentylnes / for his passe tyme dere

The man of lawe / to here lawe truely

The yeman delyteth to talke of yomanry

The ploman his londe for to ere and sowe

Thus nature werketh / in hye degre and lowe

For yf there were one of the gentyll blode

Conuayde to yomanry for nourysshement

Dyscrecyon comen he sholde chaunge his mode

Though he knewe not / his parentes verament

Yet nature wolde werke / so by entendyment

That he sholde folowe / the condycyons doubtles

Of his true blode / by outwarde gentylnes

In all this worlde / ben but thynges twayne

As loue and hate / the trouth for to tell

And yf I sholde hate my lady certayne

Than worthy I were / to dye of deth cruell

Seynge all ladyes / that she doth excell

In beaute / grace / prudence and mekenes

What man on lyue / can more in one expres

yf she with me sholde take dyspleasure

Whiche loueth her by honoures desyre

What sholde she do / with suceh a creature

That hateth her / by inwarde fraude and yre

I yet a louer / do not so atyre

My fayth and hope / I put in her grace

Releace to graunt me / by good tyme and space

Thretened with sorowe / of may paynes grete

Thre yeres ago my ryght hande I dyde bynde

Fro my browes for fere / ye dropes doune dyde sweet

God knoweth all it was nothynge my mynde

Vnto no persone / I durst my her to vntwynde

yet the trouthe knowynge / the good gretest P

Maye me release / of all my / p / p / p / thre

Now ryght fayre lady / so sadde and demure

My mynde ye knowe / in euery maner thynge

I trust for trouthe / ye wyll not me dyscure

Sythes I haue shewed you without lesynge

At your request / the cause of my mournynge

Whiche abyde in sorowe / in my remembraunce

Without good conforte / saufe of esperaunce

Fayre sone sayd she / sythens I knowe your thought

your worde and dede / and here to be one

Dyspayre you not / for it auayleth nought

Ioye cometh after / whan the payne is gone

Conforte yourselfe / and muse not so alone

Doubt ye no thynge / but god wyll so agre

That at the last / ye shall your lady se

Be alwaye meke / let wysdome be your guyde

Aduenture for honoure / and put your selfe in preace

Clymbe not to fast / lest sodenly ye slyde

Lete god werke styll / he wyll your mynde encrece

Begynne no warre / be gladde to kepe the peace

Prepence no thynge / agaynst the honoure

Of ony lady / by fraudolent fauoure

Alas madame / vnto her than sayd I

Aboue .xx. woulues / dyde me touse and rent

Not longe agone / delynge moost shamefully

That by theyr tuggynge / my lyfe was nere spent

I dyde perceyue / somwhat of theyr entente

As the trouthe is knowen / vnto god aboue

My ladyes fader they dyde lytell loue

Seynge theyr falshode / and theyr subtylte

For fere of deth /where as I loued best

I dyde dysprayse / to knowe theyr cruelte

Somwhat to wysdome / accordynge to behest

Though that my body had but lytell rest

My herte was trewe vnto my ladyes blood

For all theyr dedes I thought no thynge but good

Some had wende the hous for to swepe

Nought was theyr besom / I holde it set on fyre

The inwarde wo in to my herte dyde crepe

To god aboue / I made my hole desyre

Saynge o good lorde of heuenly empyre

Let the mount with all braunches swete

Entyerly growe / god gyue vs grace to mete

Soma had wened for to haue made an ende

Of my bokes / before he hadde begynnynge

But all vayne they dyde so comprehende

Whan they of them lacke vnderstandynge

Vaynfull was & is theyr mysse contryuynge

Who lyst the trouthe of them for to enfuse

For the reed and whyte they wryte full true

Well sayd this lady I haue perceueraunce

Of our bokes / whiche that ye endyte

So as ye saye is all the cyrcumstaunce

Vnto the hyghe pleasure of the reed and the whyte

Which hath your trouth / and wyll you acquyte

Doubte ye no thynge / but at the last ye maye

Of your true mynde yet fynde a Ioyfull daye

Forsothe I sayd / dysdayne and straungenesse

I fere them sore / and fals reporte

I wolde they were / in warde all doutles

Lyke as I was / without conforte

Than wolde I thynke / my lady wolde resorte

Vnto dame mercy / my payne to consyder

God knoweth all / I wolde we were togyder

Though in meane season / of grene grasse I fede

It wolde not greue me / yf she knewe my heuynesse

My trauayle is grete / I praye god be my spede

To resyste the myght / of myn enmyes subtylnesse

Whiche awayte to take / me by theyr doublenesse

My wysdome is lytel / yet god may graunt me grace

Them to defende / in euery maner of cace

Lerne this she sayd / yf that you can by wytte

Of foes make frendes / they wyll be to you sure

yf that theyr frendshyp / be vnto you knytte

It is oft stedfast / and wyll longe endure

yf alwaye malyce / they wyll put in vre

No doubte it is / than god so hyght and stronge

Ful meruaylously / wyl soone reuenge theyr wronge

And now she sayd come on your waye with me

Unto a goodly toure whiche is solacyous

Beholde it yonder / full of felycyte

Quadrant it was / me thought full meruaylous

With golden turrettes / gaye and gloryous

Gargayled with greyhoũdes / and with many lyons

Made of fyne golde / with dyuers sondry dragons

The wyndowes byrall / without resplendysshaunt

The fayre yuery / coloured with grene

And all aboute there was dependaunt

Grete gargeyles of golde / full meruaylously besene

Neuer was made / a fayrer place I wene

The ryght excellent lady toke her intresse

Ryght so dyde I / by meruaylous swetnesse

Whan we came in / I dyde aboute beholde

The goodly temple / with pynacles vp sette

Wherin were ymages / of kynges all of golde

With dyuers scryptures / without ony lette

Aloft the roofe / were emeraudes full grette

Set in fyne golde / with amyable rudyes

Endented with dyamondes / and mayn turkyes

The wyndowes hystoried / with many noble kynges

The pyllers Iasper / dyuersed with asure

By pendaunt penacles / of many noble rynges

The pauement calcedony / beynge fayre and sure

The aras golde / with the story pure

Of the syche of thebes / with actes auenturous

Of ryght noble knyghtes / hardy and chyualrous

Than sayd this lady / I must now go hence

Passe ye tyme here / accordynge to your lykynge

It maye fortune / your lady of excellence

Wyll passe her tyme here / soone by walkynge

Than maye she se / your dolefull mournynge

And fare ye well / I maye no lenger tary

Marke well my lesson / and from it do not vary

Whan she was gone / the temple all alonge

I went my selfe / with syghtes grete and feruent

Alas I sayd / with inwarde paynes stronge

My herte doth blede / now all to torne and rent

For lacke of conforte / my herte is almost spent

O meruelous fortune / which hast ĩ loue me brought

Where is my conforte / that I so longe haue sought

O wonderfull loue / whiche fell vnto my lotte

O loue ryght clene / without ony thought vntrue

Syth thy fyrst louynge / not blemyssed with spotte

But euermore / the falseshede to extue

O dolorous payne / whiche doste renue

O pyteous herte / where is the helthe and boote

Of thy lady / that perst the at the roote

What thynge is loue / that causeth suche turment

From whens cometh it / me thynke it is good questyõ

Yf it be nature / from nature it is sent

Loue maye come of kynde by true affeccyon

Loue may appetyte / by naturall eleccyon

Than must loue nedes be / I perceyue it in mynde

A thynge fyrst gyuen / by the god of kynde

Alas o nature / why mayst not thou truely

Cause my lady loue / as thou hast me constrayned

Hath she power to domyne the vtterly

Why mayst not thou / cause her be somwhat payned

With natures moeuynge / for loue is not fayned

Alas for sorowe / why madest thou her so fayre

Without to loue / that she lyst soone repayre

Two thynges me conforte / euer in pryncypall

The fyrst be bokes / made in antyquyte

By Gower and Chauncers / poetes rethorycall

And Lydgate eke / by good auctoryte

Makynge mencyon / of the felycyte

Of my lady and me / by dame fortunes chaunce

To mete togyders / by wonderfull ordynaunce

The seconde is / where fortune dooth me brynge

In many placys / I se by prophecy

As in the storyes / of the olde buyldynge

Letters for my lady / depeynted wonderly

And letters for me / besyde her meruayllously

Agreynge well / vnto my bokes all

In dyuers placys / I se it in generall

O loue moost dere / o loue nere to my harte

O gentyll floure / I wolde you knewe my wo

Now that your beaute / perst me with the darte

With your vertue / and your mekenes also

Sythens ye so dyde / it is ryght longe ago

My herte doth se you / it is for you bebledde

Myne eyen with teeres / ben often made full redde

Where are ye now / the floure of Ioye and grace

Whiche myght me conforte / in this inwarde sorowe

Myne excellent lady / it is a ryght pyteous case

Good be my guyde / and saynt George vnto borowe

O clere Aurora / the sterre of the morowe

Whiche many yeres / with thy bemes mery

Hath me awaked / to se thyne emyspery

Thus as I mourned / I sawe than appere

Thre goodly myrours dependaunt on the wall

Set in fyne golde bordred with stones clere

The glasses pure / they were of crystall

Made longe ago to be memoryall

And vnder the fyrst glasse ryght fayre wryten was

Beholde thy selfe / and thy fautes or thou passe

By a sylken threde / small as ony heere

Ouer I sawe hange / a swerde full ponderous

Without a scauberde / full sharpe for to fere

The poynt dounwarde / ryght harde and asperous

All this I sawe / with hert full dolorous

Yet at auenture / to se the mystery

In the myroure / I loked than full sodenly

In this glasse I sawe / how I had ledde my lyfe

Sythens the tyme of my dyscrecyon

As vnto wyldnesse / alwaye affyrmatyfe

Folowynge the pleasure / of wylfull amonycyon

Not vnto vertue hauynge intencyon

Ihesu sayd I / thou hast me well preserued

From this swerdes fall / whiche I haue oft deserued

O ye estates / aloft on fortunes whele

Remembre this swerde / whiche ouer you dependeth

Beware the fall / before that ye it fele

Se your one euyll / se what vengeaunce ensueth

Correcte none other / whan that your fautes renueth

Calke not not goddes power / bryef not ye tens future

Beholde this glasse / se how he may endure

Many one weneth / the future tens to brefe

By calculacyon goddes power to withstande

Bathynge theyr swerdes / in blode by myschefe

Tyll at the last as I do vnderstande

This swerde doth fal by the myght of goddes hande

Vpon then all / whiche wolde his power abate

Then they repent but than it is to late

This goodly myrour / I ryght well behelde

Remembrynge well / my dedes done in tymes past

I toke forwytte / than for to be my shelde

By grace well armed / not to be agast

Thus as I stode / I dyde se at the last

The seconde myrour / as bryght as phebus

Set rounde about / with stones precyous

Ouer whiche dyde hãge / a floure of golde ryght fyne

Wherin was set / an emeraude full bryght

Ryght large and grete / whiche wõderfull dyde shyne

That me thought it was / grete conforte to my syght

Bordred with dyamondes / castỹge a meruaylous lyght

This floure dyde hange / by a ryght subtyll gynne

With a chayne of yron / and many a pryue pynne

Besyde whiche there was / a table of golde

With a goodly scrypture / enameled of grene

The sentence wherof / I dyde well beholde

The whiche sayd thus / it is openly sene

That many a one / full pryuely dooth wene

To blynde an other / by crafte and subtylnes

That ofte blyndeth hym / for all his doublenes

In this myrour whiche is here besyde

Thou shalt well lerne / they selfe for to knowe

Passe forth no ferder / but loke and abyde

Se what shall come / lest that thou ouer throwe

A sodayne rysynge dooth oft fall alowe

Without the grounde / be ryghe sure and perfyte

Beholde well this glasse / & take thy respyte

Whan thou hast so done / to this floure resorte

Laboure to gete it / from this harde yren chayne

Unto the gynnes / vnto thy grete conforte

Yf that thou canst / and take it for thy payne

To be they helpe / in thy Iournaye certayne

Lo here the vertues vnder wryten be

Of this ryall floure in euery degre

This ryche emeraude / who so dooth it bere

From his fyrst werynge / his syght shal not mynysshe

Payne of the heed he nedeth not to fere

By dynt of swerde / he shall neuer perysshe

Ne no thynge begyn / but he shall well fynysshe

Yf it be ryghtfull aftyr a true entent

Without resystence of grete impedyment

Of all nygromancy / and fals enchauntement

Agaynst hym wrought / he shall knowe the effecte

They can not blynde hym by cursed sentement

But he theyr werkes may ryght soone abiecte

No maner poyson he nedeth to susspecte

Neyther in mete not yet in ale ne wyne

Yf it beset well besyde a serpentyne

Yf he vntrue be vnto his gentyll lady

It wyll breke asondre / or crase than doubtlesse

It kepeth close / neuet the auoutry

This gentyll emeraude / this stone of rychesse

Hath many mo vertues / whiche I do not expresse

As saynt Iohan euangelyst doeth shewe openly

Who of his makynge lyst se the lapydary

When I had aduerted / in my remembraunce

All the maters / vnto the glasse I wente

Beholdynge it / by a longe cyrcumstaunce

Where as I dyde perceyue well verament

How preuy malyce / his messengers had sent

With subtyll engynes / to lye in a wayte

Yf that they coude take me with a bayte

I sawe there trappes / I sawe theyr gynnes all

I thanked god than / the swete holy goost

Whiche brought me hyder so well in specyall

Without whiche myrour / I had been but loost

In god aboue / the lorde of myghtes moost

I put my trust / for to withstande theyr euyll

Whiche dayly wrought / by the myght of the deuyll

I sawe theyr maysters blacke and tydyous

Made by the craft of many a nacyon

For to dystroye me / with strokes peryllous

To lette my Iournaye / as I make relacyon

Peryllous was the waye / and the cytuacyon

Full gladde was I of the vertu of this glasse

Whiche shewed me / what daungers I sholde passe

O all ye estates / of the hygh renowne

Beware these gynnes / beware theyr subtylte

The deuyll is grete / and redy to cast downe

By calculacyon / of the cursed cruelte

Of the subtyll beestes / full of inyquyte

In the olde tyme what snares were there sette

By fals calkynge / to dystroye lordes grete

Than after this to the yron gynne

I wente anone my wyte for to proue

By lytell and lytell / to vndo euery pynne

Thus in and out / I dyde the chayne ofte moue

Yet coude I not come / vnto myne aboue

Tyll at the last / I dyde the crafte espy

Vndoynge the pynnes / & chayne full meruaylously

Full gladde was I than / whan I had this floure

I kyst it oft / I behelde the coloure grene

It swaged ryght well / myn inwarde doloure

Myn eyes conforted / with the bryghtnes I wene

This ryall floure / this emeraude to shene