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And if I had itakin for to write
The armis of this ilkè worthy man,
Than would I of his battailis endite;
But for that I to writin first began
Of his love, I have faidin as I can
His worthy, dedis, who so litte 'hem here,
Rede Dares, he can tel’hem al ifere.

Beseching every lady bright of hewe,
And every gentil woman, what she be,..
Albe it that Creseidè was untrewe,
That for that gilt ye be nat wroth with me,
Ye maie her gilte in othir bokis fe;
And gladdir I would writin if you leste
Of Penepole's trouth and gode Alceste.

Ne saie l nat this al only for men,
But most for women that betrayid be
Through fals folke, God yeve 'hem forow, Amen!
That with ther gretè witte and subtilte
Betrayin you, and this commevith me
To speke; and in effecte you al I praie
Beth ware of men, and herkenith what I faie: 1785

Go, litil boke, go litill tragedie,
There God my makir yet er that I die
So sende me might to make some comedie;
But, litill boke, make thou the none envie,
But subject ben unto al poesie,
And kisse the steppes wher as thou seist pace
Of Virgil, Ovide, Homer, Lucan, Scace. 1792


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And for there is so grete diversite
In English, and in writing of our tonge,
So praie I to God that none mifwrite the,
Ne the misse-metre for defaute of tonge;
And redde where so thou be or ellis fonge
That thou be undirítonde God I beseche;
But yet to purpose of my rathir fpeche.

The wrathe, as I began you for to fcie,
Of Troilus the Grekis boughtin dere,
For thousandis his hondis madin deye,
As he that was withoutin any pere,
Save in his time Hector, as I can here;
But welawaie! (save onely Godd'is wil)
Difpitously him flough the fierse Achil.

And whan that he was slain in this manere
His lightè gofte ful blisfully is went
Up to the’ holowneffe of the seventh sphere,
In his place leting everiche element,
And there he sawe, with ful avisément,
The erratike sterres, herkening harmonie,
With fownis ful of hevins melodie.
And doun from thennis fast he


avise This litil fpotte of erth that with the fe Enbracid is, and fully gan difpise This wretchid world, and helde al vanite in respecte of the plaine felicite That is in heven above, and at the last There he was flaine his loking doun he cast.


1820 1827

And in him selfe he lough right at the wo
Of them that weptin for his dethe so fast,
And dampnid all our werkes, that foloweth so
The blindè luft whiche that ne may nat last,
And fhuldin al our herte on hevin cast;
And forthe he went, shortily for to tell,
There as Mercury fortid him to dwel.

Suche fine hath, lo! this Troilus for love,
Suche fine hath all his gretè worthineffe,
Suche fine hath his estate royal above,
Suche fine his lust, such fine hath his noblesse,
Suche fine hath this false world'is brotilnefse!
And thus began his loving of Creseide
As I have tolde, and in this wife he deide. 1834

Oyonge and freshè folkis, he or she!
In whiche that love up growith with your age,
Repairith home from worldely vanite,
And of your hertes up caftith the visage
To thilkè God that aftir his image
You made, and thinkith al n'is but a faire,
This world that paffith fone, as flouris faire : 1841

And lovith him the whiche that right for love
Upon a croffe, our soulis for to bey,
First starfe and rose, and fit in heven above,
For he n'il falsin no wight, dare I sey,
That wol his hert al wholly on him ley;
And sens he best to love is and most meke
What nedith fainid lovis for to feke?

1848 1855

Lo! here of Painims curfid oldè rites! Lo! here what al ther goddis maie availe! Lo! here this wretchid world’is appetites! Lo! here the fine and guerdon for travaile Of Jove, Apollo, Mars, and fuch raskaile ! Lo! here the forme of oldè clerkis fpeche In poetrie, if ye ther bokis seche!

0, moral Guwer! this Boke I directe To the and to the philofophicall Strode, To vouchsafe there nede is for to correcte Of your benignities and zelis gode; And to the sothfast Christ, that starfe on rode, With al mine hert of mercy er I praie, And to the Lorde right thus 1 speke and faie: 1862

Thou One, and Two, and Thre! eterne on live, That raignist aie in Thre, and Two, and One! Uncircunscript, and all maist circumscrive, From visible and invifible fone Defende us in thy mercy everichone! So make us, Jesus, to thy mercy digne, For love of maide and mothir thine benigne! 1869

Thus endeth the fifth boke and laft of Troilus,



Boke III.

Boke IV,

Boke V.





by the MARTINS,

Jan. 18. 1783


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