The Temple of Glass
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O lady venus moder of cupydeThat in this world hast the gouernanceAnd hertes hye that hawteyn be by prydeEnclynest mekely to thyn obeyssanceCauser of Ioye Relees of penanceAnd with thy stremes canst euery thing discerñThurgħ heuenly fire of loue that is eterñ O blesful sterre persaunt and ful of lightOf beames gladsom, deuoyder of derknesChief recomfort after the blak nyghtTo wyde woful hertes out of theyr heuynesTake now good hede lady and goddesseSo that my bille may your grace attayneRedress...e to fynde of that I me compleyne For I am bounde to thing that I noldeFrely to chese ther lack I liberteAnd so I want of that myn herte woldeThe body is knyt, thougħ my thought be freSo that I muste of necessiteMy hertes lyst outward contraryeThougħ we be oon the dede muste varye My worship sauf I faylle electionAgayn al right botħ of god and kyndeTherto be knyt vnder subiectionFor whens for botħ ar out of myndeMy thought gotħ furtħ my body is behyndeFor I am here, and yond my remembranceBetwene two so hange I in balance Deuoyde of Ioye, of woo I haue plenteWhat I desire, that may I not possedeFor that I nolde is redy ay to meAnd that I loue, for to sue I dredeTo my desire contrary is my medeAnd thus I stonde departed in tweyneOf wyƚƚ and dede ylaced in a cheyne For thougħ I brenne witħ feruence & heteWitħyn myn herte I mote compleyne of coldeAnd by excesse thougħ I swelte and sweteMe to compleyne god wote I am not boldeVnto no wight, ner one word vnfoldeOf al my peyne, allas the hard stoundeThe hotter that I brenne, [the] colder is my wounde For he that hatħ myn hert feytħfullyAnd hool my loue in al honesteWitħoute chaunge al be hit secretlyI haue no space witħ hym for to beO lady venus consider now and seeVnto theffecte and compleynt of my byƚƚSitħ lyf and detħ I put aƚƚ in thy wyƚƚ And tho me thought the goddes did enclyneMekely her hede and softly gan expresseThat in short tyme her torment shold fyneAnd how of hym for whom al her distresseContynned had and al her heuynesseShe shold haue Ioye and of her purgatoryeBe holpen sone and so lyue fortħ in glorye And said doughter for thy sad troutheThy faitħful menyng and InnocenceThat planted be witħ outen ony sloutheIn your persone deuoyed of al offenceSo han they atteyned to our audienceThat witħ our grace ye shal be wel releuydI you behete of al that hatħ you greuyd And for that ye be euer of one ententWitħoute chaunge or mutabilyteAnd in your paynes ben so pacientTo take lowly your aduersyteAnd that so longe thurgh the cruelteOf olde saturne my fader vnfortunedYour woo shal now no lenger be contuned And thinketħ this witħ in a litil whyleHit shal aswage and ouer passen soneFor men by laysir passen many a myleAnd ofte after a droppyng moneThe weder cleretħ, and whan [the] storme is doneThe sonne shynetħ in his spyer brightAnd Ioye waketħ whan woo is putto flight Remembre eke how neuer yet no wightNe cam to worship witħ out som debateAnd folke reioyse also more of lightThat they witħ derknes were waped & mateNo mañs chañce is allewey fortunateNe no wight preysetħ of sugre the swetnesBut they to fore haue tasted bitternes Gryssyld was asayed atte fuƚƚThat torned after to encrese of IoyePenolope gan eke for sorowes dulleFor that her lord abode so long at troyeAlso the torment ther coude noman accoyeOf dorygene flour of al BretaigneThus euer Ioye is fyn and ende of payne And trustetħ this for conclusionThe ende of sorow is Ioye voyde of dredeFor hoolly seyntes thurgħ her passionHaue heuyn wonne by their souerain medeAnd plente gladly folowetħ after nedeAnd so my doughter after your greuaunceI you behote ye shal haue ful plesaunce For euer of loue the maner and the gyseIs for to hurte his seruaunt & to woundeAnd whan he hatħ taught them his empryseHe can in Ioye make them to haboundeAnd sitħ that ye haue in my laas be boundeWitħ oute gruoching or rebellyonYe muste of night haue consolacion This to sayne dowtetħ neuer a deelThat ye shal haue ful possessionOf hym that ye now cherisshe so weelIn honest maner witħ oute offencionBy cause I knowe youre entencionIs truly sette in party and in aƚƚTo loue hym best and most in speciaƚƚ For he that ye haue chosen you to serueShal be to you suche as ye desireWitħ oute chaunge fully til he sterueSo witħ my bronde I haue sette hym a fyreAnd witħ my grace I shal hym so enspyreThat he in herte shal be right at your wylleWherso you liste to saue hym or to spylle For vnto you I shal his herte so loweWitħ oute spotte of ony doblenesseThat he ne shal escape from the boweThaugħ that hym self by vnstedfastnesseI mene of cupide that shal hym so distresseVnto your honde witħ tharowe of goldeThat he ne shal escapen thaugh he wolde And sith ye list of pyte and of graceIn vertu only his yonghthe to cherissheI shal by aspectes of my benigne faceMake hym beschewe euery synne and viceSo that he shal haue no maner spiceIn his corage to loue thinges neweHe shal to yow so playn be found and trewe And whan this goodly fair fressħ of hueHumble and benygne of troutħ crop & roteConceyued had how venus gan to reweOn her prayer plainly to do boteTo chaunge her bitter attones in to soteShe fyl on knees of higħ deuocionAnd in this wyse began her orison Hyghest of hye quene and EmpericeGoddesse of loue, of good yet the bestThat thurgħ your beaute witħoute viceWhylom conquerd thappel atte festThat Iubiter thurgħ his hye requestTo alle the goddes aboue celestyalMade in his palais most Imperyal To you my lady vpholder of my lyfMekely I thanke so as I may suffiseThat ye list now witħ herte ententyfSo graciously for me to deuyseThat whyle I lyue witħ humble sacrefiseVpon your auters your fest yer by yerI shal encence casten in to the fyre For of your grace I am ful reconsiledFrom euery troble vnto ioye and easeThat sorowes alle be from me exiledSitħ ye my lady list now tappeaseMy paynes olde and fully my diseaseVnto gladnes so sodenly to torneHauyng no cause from hens fortħ to morne For sithen ye so mekely liste to daunteTo my seruise hym that louetħ me bestAnd of your bounte so graciously to graunteThat he ne shal barye thougħ hym lesteWherof myn herte is fully brought to resteFor now and euer o lady myn benigneThat hert and wiƚƚ I hooly to you resigne Thankyng you witħ al my ful herteThat of your grace and visitacionSo humble liste hym to conuerteFully to ben at my subiectionWitħ oute chaunge or transmutacionVnto his laste, now laude and reuerenceBe to your name and excellence This al and sum and chief of my requestAnd hool substance of my ful ententeYou thankyng euer of your graunt & hestBotħ now and euer that ye me grace sentTo conquer hym that neuer shal repentMe for to serue and humblye for to pleaseAs fynal tresour of my hertes ease And than anon venus cast a dounIn to her lappe braunches whyte and greneOf hawthorn that wenten enuyronAboute her heed that ioye was to seneAnd had her kepe hem honestly and cleneWhiche shold not fade ne neuer wexe oldeYf she her biddyng kepe as she hatħ told And as these vowes be bothe fair and sweteFolowe theffecte that they do specifyeThis is to seyne botħ in cold and heteBe ye of one hert and of one fantasyeAs ar these leues whiche may not dyeBy no duresse of stormes that be keneNomore in wynter than in somer grene Right so by ensample of wele or wooFor Ioye torment or for aduersiteWhether so fortune fauoure, or be fooFor pouert riches or prosperyteThat ye your hert kepe in on degreTo loue hym best for no thing that ye fyneWhom I haue bound so low vnder your cheyne And witħ [that] word the goddesse shoke her heedAnd was in pees & spack as tho nomoreAnd therwitħ aƚƚ ful femynyn of dredeMe thought this lady sighen gan ful soreAnd said agayn, lady that maist restoreHertes in Ioye from theyr aduersiteTo do your wil de mieulx en mieulx ma gree Thus euer slepyng dremyng as I layeWitħyn the temple me thought I sayeGrete prees of folk witħ murmur wonderfulTo croude and shoue, the temple was so fulEuericħ ful besy, in his owne causeThat I ne may shortly in a clauseDiscriuen alle the rites and the guyseAnd eke I wante connyng to deuyseHow som̄e ther were witħ blood, encence & milkAnd som̄e witħ flouris sote & softe as silkAnd som̄e witħ sparowes & douues whyteThat for to offren gan hem delyteVnto the goddesse witħ sighe and prayerHem to relese of that they most desireThat for the prees shortly to concludeI wente my way for the multitudeMe for to refressħ out of the prees alloneAnd by my self me thought as I gan goneWitħ in the estres and gan a whyle taryeI sawe a man that walked al solitaryeThat as me semed for heuynes and doleHym to compleyne, that he walked so soleWitħ oute espyyng of ony other wight And yf I sħal diseryuen hym a rightYf that he had not ben in heuynesMe thought he was, to speke of semelinesOf shap of fourme, and also of statureThe most passing, that euer yet natureMade in her werkes, and lyke to be a manAnd ther witħ al as I reherce canOf face and chere the most gracyousTo be biloued happy and ewrousBur as it semed outward by his chereThat he complayned for lack of his desireFor by hym self as he walked vp and dounI herde hym make a lamentacionAnd said alas, what thing may this beThat now am bonde that whylom was freAnd wente at large at myn electionNow am I caught vnder subiectionFor to become a beray homagerTo god of loue, wher er I cam hereFelt in myn herte, nought of loues peyneBut now of newe, witħin hur firy cheyneI am embraced so that I may not stryueTo serue and loue whyle I am on lyue The godly freshe in the temple yonderI sawe right now, that I had wonderHow euer god, for to rekene aƚƚMight make a thing so celestiaƚƚSo angelike on erthe to appereFor witħ the stremes of her eyen clereI am wounded euen to the hertThat fro the detħ I may not astertAnd most I meruayle that so sodeinlyI was so yolde to be at hur mercyWitħoute more, I muste her lust obeyeWhether that she liste me to lyue or deyeAnd take mekely my sodeyn auentureFor sitħ my lif, my detħ, and eke my cureIs in her hand it wil not auaylleTo gruoche agayn, for of this bataylleThe palme is heris, and plainly the victoryeYf I rebellid honour none ne gloryeI might not in ony wyse achyeueSitħ I am [the]olden, how shold I thenne preueTo renne a wey, I wote hit wil not beThougħ I be loos, at large I may not fleO god of loue how sharp is now thyn arowe How mayst thou now so cruelly and so naroweWitħ oute cause hurte me and woundeAnd takest none hede my sorowes to foundeBut liche a birde that fleetħ at her desireTyl sodeynly witħyn the pantereShe is caught thaugħ late she was at largeAnewe tempest forcastetħ now my bargeNow vp now doun, witħ wynd it is so bloweSo am I possed and almost ouerthroweFor dryue in derknes of many sondry waweAlas whan shal this tempest ouerdraweTo clere the skyes of myn aduersiteThe lode sterre whan that I ne may seeHit is so hid witħ clowdes that be blakeAlas whan wyƚƚ this torment ouerslakeI can not wyte, for who is hurt of neweAnd bledetħ inward til he wex pale of hueAnd hatħ his wound vnwarly fressħ & greneAnd hit is not couthe vnto the harmes keneOf myghty cupyde that can so hertes daunteThat no man may in his warre hym vaunteTo gete a pryce but only by mekenesFor ther ne hayletħ stryf ne sturdynes So may I sayne that witħ a loke am yoldeAnd haue no power to stryue thaugħ I woldeThus stonde I euer betwix lif and detħTo loue and serue whyle I haue bretħIn suche a place where I dar not pleyneLiche hym that is in torment and in peyneAnd knowetħ not to whom to discureFor ther that I haue holly set my aireI dar not wel for drede ne for daungerAnd for vnknowen tellen how the fyreOf loues bronde is kyndlid in my bresteThus am I murdred and slayn atte lesteSo priuely witħyn my thoughtO lady venus whom I haue soughtSo wysse me now what me is best to dooThat am distraught witħ my self soThat I ne wote what way for to torneSauf by my self soleyn for to morneHangyng in balance betwix hope and dredeWitħ oute comfort remedye or redeFor hope biddetħ pursue and assayeAnd agaynward drede answertħ nayeAnd now witħ hope I am set a lofte But drede and daunger hard & nothyng softeHatħ ouerthrowe my trust and put a dounNow at my large, now fetred in prisounNow in torment, now in souerayn gloryeNow in paradyse and now in purgatoryeAs man dispayred in a double wereBorn vp witħ hope, and theñe anon daungerMe drawetħ aback, and saitħ it shal not beFor where as I of myne aduersiteAm bolde somwhyle mercy to requyreThenne cometħ dispair & gynnetħ me to lereA newe lesson to hope ful the contraryThey be so diuerse they wil do me varyeAnd thus I stand dismayed in a traunceFor whan that hope were likly me tauaunceFor drede I tremble & dar one word not spekeAnd yf hit so be, that I not out brekeTo telle the harmes that greuen me so soreBut in my self encrece them more and moreAnd to be slayn fully me delyteWhen of my detħ she is nothing to wyteFor but yf she my constreynt plainly kneweHow shold she euer, on my peynes rue Thus oft tyme witħ hope I am meuydTo tel her aƚƚ, how I am greuydAnd to be hardy on me for to takeTo axe mercy, but drede dotħ me theñe awakeAnd than wanhop answertħ me agaynThat better were than she haue disdaynTo dye attones vnknowe of ony wightAnd ther witħ aƚƚ biddetħ hope anon rightMe, to be bold and prayen her of graceAnd fitħ alle vertues be portreyd in her faceHit were not sittyng, that pyte were behyndeAnd right anon witħyn my self I fyndeA newe plee brought on me witħ dredeThat me so masetħ that I see no spedeBe cause he saitħ that stonyetħ al my bloodI am so symple and she is so goodThus hope & drede in me wyl not seceTo plete and stryue my harmys to encreceBut at hardest yet or I be dedeOf my distresse sitħ I can no redeBut stande dom̄ styl as ony stoneTo fore the goddesse I wil me haste anoñAnd compleyne witħ oute more sermoñ Thougħ detħ be fyn and ful conclusionOf my request, yet I wyl assayeAnd right anon me thought I sayeThis woful man as I haue memoryeFul lowly entre in to an oratoryeAnd knelid a doun in ful humble wyseTo fore the goddesse and gan anon deuyseHis pitous quarel witħ a doleful chereSayng right this as ye shaƚƚ here .
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O lady venus moder of cupydeThat in this world hast the gouernanceAnd hertes hye that hawteyn be by prydeEnclynest mekely to thyn obeyssanceCauser of Ioye Relees of penanceAnd with thy stremes canst euery thing discerñThurgħ heuenly fire of loue that is eterñ O blesful sterre persaunt and ful of lightOf beames gladsom, deuoyder of derknesChief recomfort after the blak nyghtTo wyde woful hertes out of theyr heuynesTake now good hede lady and goddesseSo that my bille may your grace attayneRedress...e to fynde of that I me compleyne For I am bounde to thing that I noldeFrely to chese ther lack I liberteAnd so I want of that myn herte woldeThe body is knyt, thougħ my thought be freSo that I muste of necessiteMy hertes lyst outward contraryeThougħ we be oon the dede muste varye My worship sauf I faylle electionAgayn al right botħ of god and kyndeTherto be knyt vnder subiectionFor whens for botħ ar out of myndeMy thought gotħ furtħ my body is behyndeFor I am here, and yond my remembranceBetwene two so hange I in balance Deuoyde of Ioye, of woo I haue plenteWhat I desire, that may I not possedeFor that I nolde is redy ay to meAnd that I loue, for to sue I dredeTo my desire contrary is my medeAnd thus I stonde departed in tweyneOf wyƚƚ and dede ylaced in a cheyne For thougħ I brenne witħ feruence & heteWitħyn myn herte I mote compleyne of coldeAnd by excesse thougħ I swelte and sweteMe to compleyne god wote I am not boldeVnto no wight, ner one word vnfoldeOf al my peyne, allas the hard stoundeThe hotter that I brenne, [the] colder is my wounde For he that hatħ myn hert feytħfullyAnd hool my loue in al honesteWitħoute chaunge al be hit secretlyI haue no space witħ hym for to beO lady venus consider now and seeVnto theffecte and compleynt of my byƚƚSitħ lyf and detħ I put aƚƚ in thy wyƚƚ And tho me thought the goddes did enclyneMekely her hede and softly gan expresseThat in short tyme her torment shold fyneAnd how of hym for whom al her distresseContynned had and al her heuynesseShe shold haue Ioye and of her purgatoryeBe holpen sone and so lyue fortħ in glorye And said doughter for thy sad troutheThy faitħful menyng and InnocenceThat planted be witħ outen ony sloutheIn your persone deuoyed of al offenceSo han they atteyned to our audienceThat witħ our grace ye shal be wel releuydI you behete of al that hatħ you greuyd And for that ye be euer of one ententWitħoute chaunge or mutabilyteAnd in your paynes ben so pacientTo take lowly your aduersyteAnd that so longe thurgh the cruelteOf olde saturne my fader vnfortunedYour woo shal now no lenger be contuned And thinketħ this witħ in a litil whyleHit shal aswage and ouer passen soneFor men by laysir passen many a myleAnd ofte after a droppyng moneThe weder cleretħ, and whan [the] storme is doneThe sonne shynetħ in his spyer brightAnd Ioye waketħ whan woo is putto flight Remembre eke how neuer yet no wightNe cam to worship witħ out som debateAnd folke reioyse also more of lightThat they witħ derknes were waped & mateNo mañs chañce is allewey fortunateNe no wight preysetħ of sugre the swetnesBut they to fore haue tasted bitternes Gryssyld was asayed atte fuƚƚThat torned after to encrese of IoyePenolope gan eke for sorowes dulleFor that her lord abode so long at troyeAlso the torment ther coude noman accoyeOf dorygene flour of al BretaigneThus euer Ioye is fyn and ende of payne And trustetħ this for conclusionThe ende of sorow is Ioye voyde of dredeFor hoolly seyntes thurgħ her passionHaue heuyn wonne by their souerain medeAnd plente gladly folowetħ after nedeAnd so my doughter after your greuaunceI you behote ye shal haue ful plesaunce For euer of loue the maner and the gyseIs for to hurte his seruaunt & to woundeAnd whan he hatħ taught them his empryseHe can in Ioye make them to haboundeAnd sitħ that ye haue in my laas be boundeWitħ oute gruoching or rebellyonYe muste of night haue consolacion This to sayne dowtetħ neuer a deelThat ye shal haue ful possessionOf hym that ye now cherisshe so weelIn honest maner witħ oute offencionBy cause I knowe youre entencionIs truly sette in party and in aƚƚTo loue hym best and most in speciaƚƚ For he that ye haue chosen you to serueShal be to you suche as ye desireWitħ oute chaunge fully til he sterueSo witħ my bronde I haue sette hym a fyreAnd witħ my grace I shal hym so enspyreThat he in herte shal be right at your wylleWherso you liste to saue hym or to spylle For vnto you I shal his herte so loweWitħ oute spotte of ony doblenesseThat he ne shal escape from the boweThaugħ that hym self by vnstedfastnesseI mene of cupide that shal hym so distresseVnto your honde witħ tharowe of goldeThat he ne shal escapen thaugh he wolde And sith ye list of pyte and of graceIn vertu only his yonghthe to cherissheI shal by aspectes of my benigne faceMake hym beschewe euery synne and viceSo that he shal haue no maner spiceIn his corage to loue thinges neweHe shal to yow so playn be found and trewe And whan this goodly fair fressħ of hueHumble and benygne of troutħ crop & roteConceyued had how venus gan to reweOn her prayer plainly to do boteTo chaunge her bitter attones in to soteShe fyl on knees of higħ deuocionAnd in this wyse began her orison Hyghest of hye quene and EmpericeGoddesse of loue, of good yet the bestThat thurgħ your beaute witħoute viceWhylom conquerd thappel atte festThat Iubiter thurgħ his hye requestTo alle the goddes aboue celestyalMade in his palais most Imperyal To you my lady vpholder of my lyfMekely I thanke so as I may suffiseThat ye list now witħ herte ententyfSo graciously for me to deuyseThat whyle I lyue witħ humble sacrefiseVpon your auters your fest yer by yerI shal encence casten in to the fyre For of your grace I am ful reconsiledFrom euery troble vnto ioye and easeThat sorowes alle be from me exiledSitħ ye my lady list now tappeaseMy paynes olde and fully my diseaseVnto gladnes so sodenly to torneHauyng no cause from hens fortħ to morne For sithen ye so mekely liste to daunteTo my seruise hym that louetħ me bestAnd of your bounte so graciously to graunteThat he ne shal barye thougħ hym lesteWherof myn herte is fully brought to resteFor now and euer o lady myn benigneThat hert and wiƚƚ I hooly to you resigne Thankyng you witħ al my ful herteThat of your grace and visitacionSo humble liste hym to conuerteFully to ben at my subiectionWitħ oute chaunge or transmutacionVnto his laste, now laude and reuerenceBe to your name and excellence This al and sum and chief of my requestAnd hool substance of my ful ententeYou thankyng euer of your graunt & hestBotħ now and euer that ye me grace sentTo conquer hym that neuer shal repentMe for to serue and humblye for to pleaseAs fynal tresour of my hertes ease And than anon venus cast a dounIn to her lappe braunches whyte and greneOf hawthorn that wenten enuyronAboute her heed that ioye was to seneAnd had her kepe hem honestly and cleneWhiche shold not fade ne neuer wexe oldeYf she her biddyng kepe as she hatħ told And as these vowes be bothe fair and sweteFolowe theffecte that they do specifyeThis is to seyne botħ in cold and heteBe ye of one hert and of one fantasyeAs ar these leues whiche may not dyeBy no duresse of stormes that be keneNomore in wynter than in somer grene Right so by ensample of wele or wooFor Ioye torment or for aduersiteWhether so fortune fauoure, or be fooFor pouert riches or prosperyteThat ye your hert kepe in on degreTo loue hym best for no thing that ye fyneWhom I haue bound so low vnder your cheyne And witħ [that] word the goddesse shoke her heedAnd was in pees & spack as tho nomoreAnd therwitħ aƚƚ ful femynyn of dredeMe thought this lady sighen gan ful soreAnd said agayn, lady that maist restoreHertes in Ioye from theyr aduersiteTo do your wil de mieulx en mieulx ma gree Thus euer slepyng dremyng as I layeWitħyn the temple me thought I sayeGrete prees of folk witħ murmur wonderfulTo croude and shoue, the temple was so fulEuericħ ful besy, in his owne causeThat I ne may shortly in a clauseDiscriuen alle the rites and the guyseAnd eke I wante connyng to deuyseHow som̄e ther were witħ blood, encence & milkAnd som̄e witħ flouris sote & softe as silkAnd som̄e witħ sparowes & douues whyteThat for to offren gan hem delyteVnto the goddesse witħ sighe and prayerHem to relese of that they most desireThat for the prees shortly to concludeI wente my way for the multitudeMe for to refressħ out of the prees alloneAnd by my self me thought as I gan goneWitħ in the estres and gan a whyle taryeI sawe a man that walked al solitaryeThat as me semed for heuynes and doleHym to compleyne, that he walked so soleWitħ oute espyyng of ony other wight And yf I sħal diseryuen hym a rightYf that he had not ben in heuynesMe thought he was, to speke of semelinesOf shap of fourme, and also of statureThe most passing, that euer yet natureMade in her werkes, and lyke to be a manAnd ther witħ al as I reherce canOf face and chere the most gracyousTo be biloued happy and ewrousBur as it semed outward by his chereThat he complayned for lack of his desireFor by hym self as he walked vp and dounI herde hym make a lamentacionAnd said alas, what thing may this beThat now am bonde that whylom was freAnd wente at large at myn electionNow am I caught vnder subiectionFor to become a beray homagerTo god of loue, wher er I cam hereFelt in myn herte, nought of loues peyneBut now of newe, witħin hur firy cheyneI am embraced so that I may not stryueTo serue and loue whyle I am on lyue The godly freshe in the temple yonderI sawe right now, that I had wonderHow euer god, for to rekene aƚƚMight make a thing so celestiaƚƚSo angelike on erthe to appereFor witħ the stremes of her eyen clereI am wounded euen to the hertThat fro the detħ I may not astertAnd most I meruayle that so sodeinlyI was so yolde to be at hur mercyWitħoute more, I muste her lust obeyeWhether that she liste me to lyue or deyeAnd take mekely my sodeyn auentureFor sitħ my lif, my detħ, and eke my cureIs in her hand it wil not auaylleTo gruoche agayn, for of this bataylleThe palme is heris, and plainly the victoryeYf I rebellid honour none ne gloryeI might not in ony wyse achyeueSitħ I am [the]olden, how shold I thenne preueTo renne a wey, I wote hit wil not beThougħ I be loos, at large I may not fleO god of loue how sharp is now thyn arowe How mayst thou now so cruelly and so naroweWitħ oute cause hurte me and woundeAnd takest none hede my sorowes to foundeBut liche a birde that fleetħ at her desireTyl sodeynly witħyn the pantereShe is caught thaugħ late she was at largeAnewe tempest forcastetħ now my bargeNow vp now doun, witħ wynd it is so bloweSo am I possed and almost ouerthroweFor dryue in derknes of many sondry waweAlas whan shal this tempest ouerdraweTo clere the skyes of myn aduersiteThe lode sterre whan that I ne may seeHit is so hid witħ clowdes that be blakeAlas whan wyƚƚ this torment ouerslakeI can not wyte, for who is hurt of neweAnd bledetħ inward til he wex pale of hueAnd hatħ his wound vnwarly fressħ & greneAnd hit is not couthe vnto the harmes keneOf myghty cupyde that can so hertes daunteThat no man may in his warre hym vaunteTo gete a pryce but only by mekenesFor ther ne hayletħ stryf ne sturdynes So may I sayne that witħ a loke am yoldeAnd haue no power to stryue thaugħ I woldeThus stonde I euer betwix lif and detħTo loue and serue whyle I haue bretħIn suche a place where I dar not pleyneLiche hym that is in torment and in peyneAnd knowetħ not to whom to discureFor ther that I haue holly set my aireI dar not wel for drede ne for daungerAnd for vnknowen tellen how the fyreOf loues bronde is kyndlid in my bresteThus am I murdred and slayn atte lesteSo priuely witħyn my thoughtO lady venus whom I haue soughtSo wysse me now what me is best to dooThat am distraught witħ my self soThat I ne wote what way for to torneSauf by my self soleyn for to morneHangyng in balance betwix hope and dredeWitħ oute comfort remedye or redeFor hope biddetħ pursue and assayeAnd agaynward drede answertħ nayeAnd now witħ hope I am set a lofte But drede and daunger hard & nothyng softeHatħ ouerthrowe my trust and put a dounNow at my large, now fetred in prisounNow in torment, now in souerayn gloryeNow in paradyse and now in purgatoryeAs man dispayred in a double wereBorn vp witħ hope, and theñe anon daungerMe drawetħ aback, and saitħ it shal not beFor where as I of myne aduersiteAm bolde somwhyle mercy to requyreThenne cometħ dispair & gynnetħ me to lereA newe lesson to hope ful the contraryThey be so diuerse they wil do me varyeAnd thus I stand dismayed in a traunceFor whan that hope were likly me tauaunceFor drede I tremble & dar one word not spekeAnd yf hit so be, that I not out brekeTo telle the harmes that greuen me so soreBut in my self encrece them more and moreAnd to be slayn fully me delyteWhen of my detħ she is nothing to wyteFor but yf she my constreynt plainly kneweHow shold she euer, on my peynes rue Thus oft tyme witħ hope I am meuydTo tel her aƚƚ, how I am greuydAnd to be hardy on me for to takeTo axe mercy, but drede dotħ me theñe awakeAnd than wanhop answertħ me agaynThat better were than she haue disdaynTo dye attones vnknowe of ony wightAnd ther witħ aƚƚ biddetħ hope anon rightMe, to be bold and prayen her of graceAnd fitħ alle vertues be portreyd in her faceHit were not sittyng, that pyte were behyndeAnd right anon witħyn my self I fyndeA newe plee brought on me witħ dredeThat me so masetħ that I see no spedeBe cause he saitħ that stonyetħ al my bloodI am so symple and she is so goodThus hope & drede in me wyl not seceTo plete and stryue my harmys to encreceBut at hardest yet or I be dedeOf my distresse sitħ I can no redeBut stande dom̄ styl as ony stoneTo fore the goddesse I wil me haste anoñAnd compleyne witħ oute more sermoñ Thougħ detħ be fyn and ful conclusionOf my request, yet I wyl assayeAnd right anon me thought I sayeThis woful man as I haue memoryeFul lowly entre in to an oratoryeAnd knelid a doun in ful humble wyseTo fore the goddesse and gan anon deuyseHis pitous quarel witħ a doleful chereSayng right this as ye shaƚƚ here .
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