For wel I wot it wolle none othir be:
Comforte is none ne council to your efe,
Why wil ye then the king of Love difplefe?

O mercie, God! (quod iche) I me repent, Caitife and wretche, in hert, in wil, and thought, And aftir this fhal be mine whole entent

To ferve and plefe, how dere that love be bought;
Yet fith I have mine owne penaunce ifought
With humble fpirite fhal I it receve,
Though that the king of Love my life bereve;
And though that fervent Lov'is qualite
In me did nevir worche truly, yet I
With al obeifaunce and humilite,
And benigne herte, fhal ferve him til I die;
And he that lord of might is grete and hie
Right as him lift me chaftice and correcte,
And punishe me, with trefpace thus enfecte.
Thefe wordis faid, fhe caught me by the lap,
And led me furth in til a temple round,
Bothe large and wide, and as my bleflid hap
And gode avinture was right fone I founde
A tabernacle reifid from the grouide
Where Venus fat and Cupid by her fide,
Yet half for drede I can my v.fage hide;

And eft againe I lokid and behelde,
Seing ful fundry peple in the place

And miftir folke, and fome that might not welde
Ther limimis wele me thought a woundir cafe,
The temple fhone with windowes al of glaffe
Bright as the day, with manie' a faire ymage,
And there I fe the frefhe Quene of Carthage,
Dido, that brent her beaute for the love
Of fals Æneas, and the weimenting
Of her Anelida, true as turtil dove
To Arcite fals; and there was in peinting
Of many' a prince and many' a doughty king
Whofe martirdom was fhewed about the walles,
And how that fele for love had fuffrid falles.
But fore I was abafhid and aftonied
Of al tho felke that there were in that tide,
And than I afkid where they haddin woned?
In divers courtis, (quod fhe) here befide:
In fondric clothing mantilwife full wide
They were arraied, and did ther facrifice
Unto the god and goddeffe in ther guise.

He takith al in pore or riche array
That mekely fewe unto his excellence
With al ther herte and al ther revèrence.
And walking thus aboute with Philobone
Ife where come a meffengere in hie [anone
Streight from the king, whiche let commaunde
Throughout the Courte to make an ho and crie,
All new come folke abide; and wote ye why?
The king'is luft is for to seen you fone:
Come nere; let fe; his wil mote nede be done.
Than gan I me prefent tofore the king
Trembling for fere, with vifage pale of hewe,
And many' a lovir with me was kneling,
Abafhed fore, til unto the time they knewe
The fentence yeve of his entent full trew;
And at the last the king hath me behold
With fterne vifage, and feid, What doth this olde,
I hus ferre yftope in yeris, com fo late
Unto the Courte? For fothe, my liege, (quod I)
An hundrid tyme I have ben at the gate
Afore this tyme, yet coude I ner efpie
Of myne acqueintaunce eny in mine eye,
And Shamefoftes away me ganne to chace,
But now I me fubmitte unto your grace.

Wel, al is pardoned, with condicion
That thou be trew from hensforth to thy might,
And fervin Love in thine entencion;
Swere this, and than as ferre as it is right
Thou fhalte have grace here in my quen'is fight.
Yes, by the faith I owe your crown I fwere,
Though Deth therfore me thirlith with his fpere.

And whan the kinge had fene us everychone He let commaunde an officir in hie To take our faith, and fhew us one by one The ftatutes of the Courte full befily: Anon the boke was leide before ther eye, To rede and fe what thing we muit obferve In Lov'is Courte till that we dye and iterve.

And for that I was lettrid there I red
The ftatutes whole of Lov'is Courte and hall.
The firfte ftatute that on the boke was fpred
Was to be true in thought and dedis al
Unto the king of Love, the lorde ryall,
And to the quene as faithful and as kinde

They were the colour ay and evir fhal,

In figne they were and evir wil be true,
Withoutin chaunge, and fouthely yondir all
'That ben in blak, with mourning crie and call
Unto the goddes, for ther lovis bene

Some ferre, fom dede, fom al to fherpe and kene.
Yea, than, (quod I) what done these preftis here,
Nonnis, and hermites, freris, and all tho
That fit in white, in ruffet, and in grene?
Forfothe (quod fhe) they wailin of ther wo.
O mercie, Lord! may they fo come and go
Frely to Court, and have foche libertie?
Yea, men of eche condicion and degre.

And women eke, for truly there is none
Exception made, ne nevir was ne may;
This Courte is ope and fre for everichone;
The king of Love he wil not fay them nay;

The feconde ftatute fecretly to kepe Council of Love, not blowing every where Al that I knowe, and let it finke and flete; It may not fowne in every wight'is ere, Exiling flaundir ay for dred and fere, And to my lady whiche I love and ferve Be true and kinde, her grace for to deserve.

The thirde statute was clerely writ also, Withoutin chaunge to live and die the fame, None othir love to take for wele ne wo, For blinde delite, for erneft nor for game, Without repent, for laughing or for grame, To bidin til in ful perfeveraunce; Al this was whole the king'is ordinaunce. The fourth ftatute to purchace er to here And stirin folke to love, and betin fire On Venus auter here aboute and there,

And preche to them of Love and hote defire, And tel how Love wil quitin wel ther hire; This must be kept; and loth me to displese If Love be wroth paffe, for therby is efe.

The V. ftatute not to be daungirous

If that a thought would reve me of my flepe,
Nor of a fight to be ovir fquemous,
And fo verely this ftatute was to kepe,
To turne and wallowe in my bed and wepe
When that my lady of her cruiltic
Would from her herte exilin al pite.

The VI. ftatute it was for me to use
Alone to wandir voide of company,
And on my lad'is beautie for to mufe,
And to thinkin no force to live or die,
And eft again to thinke the remedy
How to her grace I might anon attain,
And tel my wo unto my foveraine.

The VII. ftatute was to be pacient
Whethir my lady joyful were or wroth,
For wordis glad or hevy diligent,
Whedir that the me heldin iefe or loth,
And hereupon I put was to mine othe
Her for to ferve and lowely to obey,
And thewe my chere ye xx fith aday.

The VIII. ftatute, to my rememberaunce,
Was for to fpeke and pray my lady dere
With hourely labour and gret entendaunce
Me for to love with al her herte entere,
And me defire and make me joyful chere,
Right as he is furmouning every faire,
Of beautie wel, and gentil, debonaire.

The IX. ftatute, with lettris writ of golde,
This was the fentence, how that I and al
Shulde evir dred to be to ovirbolde
Her to difplefe, and truly so I fhal,
But ben content for al thing that may fal,
And mekely take her chaftifement and yerde,
And to offende her evir ben aferde.

The X. ftatute was egally to' difcerne Betwene the lady' and thine abilite, And thinke thy felfe arte nevir like to yerne By right her mercy nor of equite, But of her grace and womanly pite, For though thy felfe be noble in thy ftrene A thousande folde more nobil is thy quene. Thy liv'is lady and thy foveraine, That hath thin herte all whole in govirnaunce, Thou maieft no wise it takin to difdaine To put the humble at her ordinaunce, And give her fre the reine of her plefaunce, For Libertie is thing that women loke, And truely els the mattir is acroke.

The XI. ftatute thy fignis for to knowe With eye and fingir, and with smilis fofte, And lowe to couche, and alwaie for to fhowe For drede of spyis for to winkin oste, But fecretly to bryng a figh alofte, And eke beware of ovir moche reforte, For that para'venture fpillith all thy sport. The XII. ftatute remembir to obferve, For all the paine thou haft for love and wo All is to lite her mercie to deferve;

Thou muften then thinke wher er thou ride or go,
And mortall woundis fuffre thou alfo,
All for her fake, and thinke it well befette
Upon thy love, for it maie not be bette.

The XIII. ftatute whilome is to thinke
What thing maie beft thy ladie like and plefe,
And in thine hert'is botome let it finke;
Some thing devife, and take for it thine efe,
And fende it her, that maie her herte appefe,
Some herte or ryng, or lettir or devife,
Or precious stone; but spare not for no price.
The XIV. ftatute eke thou fhalt affaie
Firmely to kepe the mofte parte of thy life;
Withe that thy ladie in thine armis laie,
And nightly dreme thou haft thy nighte's herte's
Swetly in armis, ftrainyng her as blife,
And when thou fecft it is but fantasie
Se that thou fing not ovir merily;

For To moche joye bath ofte a wofull ende;
It longith eke, this ftatute for to holde,
To deme thy ladie evirmore thy frende,
And thinke thy felf in no wife a cocolde;
In every thyng fhe doeth but as the fhould:
Conftrue the best, beleve no talis newe,
For Many a lye is tolde that femeth full true;

[wife

But thinke that fhe, fo bounteous and faire, Coud not be falfe; imagine this algate; And think that tonges wickid would her appaire, Slanderyng her name and worshipfull eftate, And lovirs true to fettin at debate;

And though thou feeft a faute right at thine eye
Excufe it blive, and glofe it pretilie.

The XV. ftatute ufe to fwere and ftare,
And counterfeite a lefyng hardily
To fave thy ladie's honour every whare,
And put thy felf to fightin boldily;
Saie fhe is gode, vertuous, and ghoftly,

Clere of entent, and herte, and thought, and will;
And argue not for refon ne for skill

Againe thy ladie's plefure ne entent,
For Love will not be counterpleted in dede;
Saie as the faicth, then fhalt thou not be fhent,
The crowe is white. Ye, truly fo I rede.
And aye what thing that the the will forbede
Efchue al that, and give her foverainte;
Her appetite folowe in all degre.

The XVI. ftatute kepe it if thou maic,
Seven fith at night, thy ladie for to plefe,
And feven at midnight, fe'ven at morow daie,
And drinke a caudill erely for thine efe:
Doe this, and kepe thine hedde from all difefe,
And winne the garlande here of lovers all
That evir came in Court or evir fhall.

Full fewe think I this ftatute hold and kepe,
But truely this my refon giveth me fele
That fome lovirs fhould rather fall aflcpe
Then take on hand to plefe so oft and wcle:
There laic none othe to this ftatute adele,
But kepe who might as gave him his corage:
Now get this garlande luftie folke of age,

Now win who maie ye luftie folke of youth,
This garlande fresh, of flouris red and white,
Purple and blewe, and colours fell uncouth,

And I fhall croune him kyng of all delite.
In all the Courte there was not to my fight
A lovir true that he ne was adrede
When he expreffe hath herd the statute rede.
The XVII. ftatute, when age approcheth on,
And luft is laied, and all the fire is queint,
As freshly then thou shalt begin to fonne
And dote in love, and all her image paint
In thy remembraunce till thou gin to faint,
As in the first fefou thyne herte began,
And her defire, though thou ne maie ne can
Performe thy livyng actuell and luft.
Regiftir this in thyne rememberaunce
Eke, when thou maist not kepe thy thing from ruft
Yet fpeke and talke of plefaunt daliaunce,
For that fhall make thyne hert rejoyce and daunce;
And when thou maieft no more the game affaie
The ftatute bidde the praie for them that maie.
The XVIII. ftatute wholy to commende
To plefe thy ladie is, that thou eschewe
With fluttishneffe thy felf for to offende;
Be joilife, fresh, and fete with thingis newe,
Courtlie with manir, this is all thy due,
Gentill of porte, and lovyng clenlineffe;
This is the thing that likith thy maistreffe;

And not to wandir liche a dullid affe,
Raggid and torne, difguifid in araie,
Ribaude in fpeche, or out of mefure paffe,
Thy bounde excedyng; thinke on this alwaie;
For Women ben of tendir bertis aye,
And lightly fet ther plefure in a place,
When thei mifthinke they lightly let it pale.

The XIX. ftatute mete and drinke forgete,
Eche othir daie fe that thou faft for love,
For in the Courte thei live withoutin mete,
Save foche as cometh from Venus al above;
Thei take none hede in pain of grete reprove
Of mete and drinke, for that is all in vaine,
Onely thei live by fight of ther foveraine.
The XX. ftatute, laft of everichone,
Enrolle it in thyne hert'is privite,

To wring and waile, to turne, and figh, and grone,
When that thy ladie abfent is from the,
And eke renewe the wordis all that the
Betwene you twain had faid, and all the cherc
That the hath made thy liv'is lady dere.

And fe thyne herte in quiete ne in reft
Sojourne to tyme thou feen thy ladie efte,
But where the won, by fouth, or eft, or weft,
With all thy force now fe it be not lefte;
Be diligent till tyme thy life be refte
In that thou maieft thy ladie for to fe;
This ftatute was of old antiquite.

An officir of high aucthorite,
Yclepid Rigour, made us fwere anone;
He n'as corrupt with parcialite,
Favour, prayir. ne gold that clerely fhone.
Ye fhall (quod he) now swerin her echone,
Both young and old, to kepe in that thei maie
The ftatutes truely aftir this daie.'

O God! thought I, hard is to make this othe,
But to my powir fhall I them obferve:
In all this worlde n'as mattis halfe fo lothe

To fwere for all, for though my body ferve
I have no might them wholy to obferve.
But herkin now the cace how it befell;
Aftir my othe was made, the trouthe to tell,
I tournid levis, lokyng on this boke,
Where othir ftatutes were of women fhene,
And right forthwith Rigour on me gan loke
Full angirly, and faied unto the quene
I traitour was, and chargid me let ben;
There maie no man (quod he) the ftatute knowe
That long to woman, hie degre ne lowe.

In fecrete wife thei kepin ben full close,
Thei foune echone to Kberte, my frende;
Plefaunt thei be, and to ther own purpose;
There wote no wight of them but God and fende,
Ne naught fhall wit unto the world'is ende;
The quene hath yeve me charge, in pain to die,
Nevir to rede ne feen them with myne eye:

For men fhall not fo nere of counfaill ben
With womanhode, ne knowin of ther guife,
Ne what thei think, ne of ther wit th' engine;
I me report to Salomon the wife,
And migh tie Sampion which begilid thrise
With Dalia was, he wot that in a throwe
There maie no man ftatute of women knowe;
For it pera'venture maie right fo befall
That thei be bounde by Nature to disceve,
Aud fpinne and wepe, and fugre ftrew on gal,
The herte of man to ravife and to reve,
And what ther tonge as sharpe as fwerde or gleve;
It maie betide this is ther ordinaunce,
So must thei lowlie doen ther obfervaunce,

And kepe the ftatute yevin them of Kinde,
Of foche as Love hath yeve 'hem in ther life;
Men maie not wete why turnith every wind,
Nor waxin wife, nor ben inquifitife
To knowe fecrete of maide, widowe, or wife,
For thei ther ftatutes have to them referved,
And nevir man to knowe them hath deserved.

Now dreffe you forth, the god of Love you guide, Quod Rigour then, and feke the temple bright Of Citherea, goddes here befide;

Befeche her by the influence and might
Of all her vertue you to teche aright
How for to ferve your ladies and to plefe,
Ye that ben fped, and fet your herte in efe;

And ye that ben unpurveied, pray her eke
Comforte you fone with grace and destinie,
That ye may fet your hert there ye maie like,
In foche a place that it to Love maie be
Honour, and worship, and felicitie,
To you for aie. Now goeth by one affent.
Graunt mercie,Sir (quod we) and forth we went
Devoutly, folt and elie pace, to fe
Venns the goddes image all of golde,
And there we found a thousand on ther kne,
Some frefle and faire, fome dedly to beholde,
In fondrie mantils new, and fome wer olde,
Some paintid were with flamis red as fire,
Outward, to fhewe ther inward hote defire.

With dolefull chere, full fele in ther complaint, Cried, "Ladie Venus! rewe upon our fore; Receive our billes, with teris all bedreint,

We maie not wepe, there is no more in store, "But wo and pain us frettith more and more; "Thou bliffefull planet! lovirs fterre fo fhene, "Have routh on us that figh, and careful ben; "And punifhe, ladie, grevoufly, we praie, «The falfe untrue with counterfeite plesaunce "That made ther othe be true to live or deie; "With chere affurid and with countinaunce, "And falfly now thei fotin Lov'is daunce "Barain of routh, untrue of that thei faied, "Now that ther luft and plefure is alaid.

"Yet efte againe a thousande milion, "Rejoycing love, ledyng ther life in bliffe, "Thei faid, Venus, redreffe of all divifion, "Goddes eternell, thy name heryed is, "By lovirs bonde is knit all thing iwis, "Beft unto beft, the yerth to watir wanne, "Birde unto birde, and woman unto man.

"This is the life of joye that we ben in, "Refemblyng life of hevenly paradife; "Love is elixir aie of vice and finne, "Love makith hert'is luftie to devife; "Honour and grace have thei in every wife "That ben to Lov'is lawe obedient; "Love makith folke benigne and diligent,

Aie fteryng them to dredin vice and frame; "In ther degre it maketh them honourable, "And fwete it is of Love to bere the name, "So that his love be faithfull, true, and ftable; "Love prunith hym to femin amiable, "Love hath no faute there it is exercifed, "But fole with them that have all love difpifed. "Honour to the, celeftiall and clere "Goddes of Love, and to thy celfitude, "That yeveft us light fo ferre doune ftom thy fpere, Perfying our hertis with thy pulchritude; Comparison none of fimilitude

"Maie to thy grace be made in no degre, "That haft us fet with Love in unitie.

"Grete caufe have we to praise thy name and the, "For thorough the we live in joye and blisse; "Bleflid be thou, mofte foveraine to se.

Thy holy Courte of gladnefle maie not misse; "A thousand fith we may rejoyce in this, "That we ben thine with herte and all yfere, "Enflamid with thy grace and hevenly fere." Mufyng of tho that fpakin in this wife I me bethought in my remembèraunce Myne orifon right godely to devise, And plefauntly with hert is obeifaunee Befeche the goddes voidin my grevaunce, For I loved eke, faufe that I wift no where, Yet doun I fet, and faied as ye shall here: Fairift of all that evir were or be, Licour and light to penfife creäture, Myne whole affiaunce and my ladie fre, My goddes bright, my fortune, and my ure! Iyeve and yelde my herte to the full fure, Humbly befechyng, ladie, of thy grace Me to teftow in fome bleffid place,

And here I vowe me faithfull, true, and kind, Without offence of mutabilitie, Humbly to ferve while I have wit and mind,

Myne whole affiaunce and my ladie fre,
In thilke place there ye me figne to be;
And fith this thing of newe is yeve me, aie
To love and ferve nedely muft I obeie.
Be merciable with thy fire of grace,
And fixe mine herte there beautie is and routh,
For hote I love; determine in no place,
Saufe only this, by God and by my trouth
Troublid I was with flombir, flepe, and flouth,
This othir night, and in a vifioun

I fe a woman romin up and doune

Of mene ftature, and femely to beholde, Leftie and fresh, demure of countinaunce, Yong and well fhap, with here that shone as golde, With eyen as criftall, fercid with plesaunce, And the gan firre mine herte a lite to daunce, But fodainlie fhe vanifhe gan right there; Thus I maie faie I love and wote not where.

For what she is ne her dwellyng I n'ot, And yet I fele that love diftreinith me, Might ishe her knowe, that would I faine God wet, Serve and obeye with all benignitie, And if that othir be my deftinie, So that no wife I fhall her nevir fe, Then graunt me her that beft maie likin me, With glad rejoyce to live in perfite hele, Devoide of wrathe, repent, or variaunce, And able me to doe that maie be wele Unto my ladie with herte's hie plefaunce; And, mightie goddes! through thy purviaunce My wit, my thought, my luft, and love, fo guide That to thine honour I maie me provide

To fet mine hert in place there I maie like,
And gladly ferve with all affeccion;
Grete is the pain which at mine hert doth sticke
Till I be fped by thyne eleccion;
Helpe, ladie goddes! that poffeffion

I might of her have that in all my life
I clepin fhal my quene and hert'is wife;
And in the Courte of Love to dwell for aie
My will is, and doin the facrifice,
Daily with Diane eke to fight and fraie,
And holdin werre, as might will me fuffice;
That goddes chafte I kepin in no wife
To ferve; a figge for all her chastite!
Her lawe is for religioufite.

And thus gan finifh prayir, laude, and preice,.
Whiche that I yove to Venus on my kne,
And in myne herte to pondir and to peice
I gan anone her image frefhe beautie;
Heile to that figure fwete, and heile to the,
Cupide! (quod I) and rose and yede my weie;
And in the temple as I yede I feie

A shrine furmountyng all in ftonis riche,
Of whiche the force was plefaunce to mine eye,
With diamonde or faphire nevir liche

I have none feen, ne wrought fo wondirlie;
So when I met with Philobone in hie

I gan demaunde whofe is this fepulture?
Forfothe, (quod fhe) a tendir creäture

Is fhrini there, and Pitie is her name;
She fawe an egle wreke hym on a flie,
And plucke his wing, and eke him, in his game,

And tendir herte of that hath made her die;
Eke she would wepe and mourne right pitously
To feen a lovir fuffre grete diftreife;
In all the Courte n'is none, as I do geffe

That coud a lovir half fo well availe,
Ne of his wo the torment or the rage
Afkin, for he was fure without in faile
That of his grief the coud the hete afwage;
In ftede of Pitie fpedith hote Corage
The mattirs all of Courte; now he is dedde
I me reporte in this to womanhedde;

[pray

Forweile, and wepe, and crie, and speke, and Women would not have pitie on thy plaint, Ne by that mene to efe thine herte convale, But the recevin for ther owne talent, And faie that Pitie caufith them confent Of reuth to take thy fervice and thy paine, In that thou maieft, to plese thy foveraine.

But this is counfaill, kepe it fecretly,
(Quod fhe ;) I n'olde for all the worlde about
The quene of Love it wift, and witte ye why?
For if by me this mattir fpringin out
In Courte no lengir fhould I out of doubt
Dwellin, but fhame in all my life endry:
Now kepe it clofe (quod fhe) this hardily.
Well, all is well: now fhall ye feen, the faied,
The fairift ladie undir fonne that is:
Come on with me; demene you lich a maide
With fhamefast drede, for ye fhall fpeke ywis
With her that is the mirrour, joie, and bliffe,
But fomwhat ftraunge and fad of her demene
She is beware your countinaunce be fene,

Not ovirlight, ne recheleffe, ne to holde,
Ne malaperte, ne rennyng with your tong,
For fhe will you obeifin and beholde,
And you demaunde why ye wer hens fo long
Out of this Courte, without refort emong;
And Rofiall her name is hote aright,
Whofe herte is yet yyevin to no wight.

And ye alfo ben, as I undirftonde,
With Love but light aveuncid by your worde;
Might ye by hap your fredom makin bond,
And fall in grace with her, and wele accorde,
Well might ye thanke the god of Love and lord,
For the that ye fawe in your dreme appere
To love foche one what are thei then the nere?
Yet wote ye what? as my rememberaunce
Me yevith nowe, ye faine where that ye faie
That ye with Love han ne vir acquaintaunce
Save in your dreme right late this other daie;
Why, yes parde, my life that durft I laie
That ye were caught upon an heth when I
Sawe you complain and figh full pitously;

Within an herbir and gardein faire,
Where flowirs growe and herbis vertuous,
Of whiche the favour fwete was and the eire,
There were your felf full hote and amorous;
Ywis ye ben to nice and daungirous;
I would ye now repent and love some newe.
Naie, by my trothe, I faied, I nevir knewe

The godely wight whofe I fhal be for aye, Guide me the Lorde, that love hath made and me: But forthe we went into a chambre gaie

There was Rofiall, womanly to fe,
Whofe ftremis, fotill perfyng of her eye,
Mine hert gan thrill for beatie in the ftounde;
Alas (quod 1) who hath me yeve this wounde!

And then I drede to fpeke till at the lafte
I grete the ladie reverently and wele,
When that my figh was gone and ovirpaste,
And doune on knees full humbly gan i knele,
Befechyng her my fervent wo to hele,
For there I toke full purpofe in my mynde
Unto her grace my painfull herte to bynde.

For if I thall all fully her difcrive
Her hed was rounde by compaffe of Nature,
Her cere as gold, fhe paffid all on live,
And lillie forehed had this creature,
With livelifhe browis, flawe of colour pure,
Betwene the which was mene diffeveraunce,
From every browe to fhewin a diftaunce;

Her nofe directed ftreght, and even as line,
With forme and shape thereto convenient,
In which the godis milkewhite path doth shine,
And eke her eyen ben bright and orient
As is the fmaragde, unto my judgement,
Or yet these sterris hevenly fmall and bright,
Her vifage is of lovely rede and white;

Her mouthe is fhort, and fhitte in litil space, Flamyng fomdele, not ovir redde I mene. With pregnaunt lips, and thicke to kifle percace, For lippis thinne, not fat, but evir lene, They ferve of naught, they be not worth a bene, For if the baffe ben full there is delite; Maximian truely thus docth he write.

But to my purpofe; I faie white as fnowe Ben all her tethe, aud in ordir thei ftonde Of one ftature, and eke her breth I trowe Surmountith all odours that er I founde, In fweteneffe, and her body, face, and honde, Ben fharply flendir fo that from the hedde Unto the fate all is but womanhedde. I holde my pece of othir thingis hidde; Here fhal my foule and not my tong bewrie; But how fhe was arraied, if ye me bidde, That shall I well difcovir you and faie; A bende of gold and filk full freshe and gaie, With her intreffe ybroudirid full wele, Right fmothly kept, and shinyng every dele;

About her necke a flower of fresh devile,
With rubies fet that luftie were to fene,
And the in goune was light and fommir wife,
Shapin full wele, the colour was of grene,
With aureat fent aboute her fidis clene,
With divers ftonis precious and riche;
Thus was the raied, yet fawe I ner her liche:

For if that Jove had this ladie yseine,
Tho the faire Califto ne Alcmena
Thei nevir haddin in his armis leine,
Ne he had lovid the faire Europa,
Ye, ne yet Danae ne Antiopa.
For all ther beautie ftode in Rofiall;
She femid lich a thyng celeftiall,

In bountie, favour, porte, and fimilineffe,
Plefaunt of figure, mirrour of delite,
Gracious to feen, rote of all gentilneffe,