Ma foi, c'est fait de moi, car Isabeau M'a conjuré de lui faire un rondeau. Cela me met en peine extrême. Quoi! treize vers, huit en _-èau_, cinq en _-ème!_ Je lui ferais aussitôt un bateau. En voilà cinq pourtant en un monceau, Faisons-en huit, en invoquant Brodeau, Et puis mettons, par quelque stratagème: Ma foi, c'est fait. Si je pouvais encore de mon cerveau Tirer cinq vers, l'ouvrage serait beau; Mais cependant je suis dedans l'onzième: Et si je crois que je fais le douzième, En voilà treize ajustés au niveau. Ma foi, c'est fait! (VOITURE: _Rondeau_, ab. 1640. In _Œuvres de Voiture_, ed. Ubicini, vol. ii. p. 314.) This is perhaps the most famous of rondeaus of the type which Voiture did much to make popular. What no pardy ye may be sure Thinck not to make me to yor 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 ure But though ye have had my herte cure Trow ye I dote withoute ending What no pardy Though that with pain I do procure For to forgett that ons was pure Wtin my hert shall still that thing Unstable unsure and wavering Be in my mynde without recure What no pardye. (SIR THOMAS WYATT: Rondeau in Wyatt MS., reproduced in _Anglia_, vol. xviii. p. 478. ab. 1540.) Besides the rondeaus found in the Wyatt MS., three poems of Wyatt's, published in Tottel's _Songs and Sonnets_ (1557), were evidently intended as rondeaus (see Arber's Reprint, pp. 53, 73). The editor, not understanding the form or thinking it too unfamiliar to be popular, seems to have changed it to a sort of sonnet, omitting the refrain at the end and making a complete line of it as the ninth of the poem. These hidden rondeaus were discussed by Mr. Dobson in the _Athenæum_ for 1878 (vol. i. p. 380); see also Alscher's _Sir Thomas Wyatt und seine Stellung_, etc. Thou fool! if madness be so rife, That, spite of wit, thou'lt have a wife, I'll tell thee what thou must expect-- After the honeymoon neglect, All the sad days of thy whole life; To that a world of woe and strife, Which is of marriage the effect-- And thou thy woe's own architect, Thou fool! Thou'lt nothing find but disrespect, Ill words i' th' scolding dialect, For she'll all tabor be, or fife; Then prythee go and whet thy knife, And from this fate thyself protect, Thou fool! (CHARLES COTTON: _Rondeau._ ab. 1675. Quoted by Guest, _English Rhythms_, Skeat ed., p. 645.) A good rondeau I was induced to show To some fair ladies some short while ago; Well knowing their ability and taste, I asked should aught be added or effaced, And prayed that every fault they'd make me know.