To whom he thus; O fairest vnder skie, xxxviii True be thy words, and worthy of thy praise, That warlike feats doest highest glorifie. Therein haue I[548] spent all my youthly daies, And many battailes fought, and many fraies Throughout the world, wher so they might be found, Endeuouring my dreadded name to raise Aboue the Moone, that fame may it resound In her eternall trompe, with laurell girland cround. But what art thou, O Ladie, which doest raunge xxxix In this wilde forrest, where no pleasure is, And doest not it for ioyous court exchaunge, Emongst thine equall peres, where happie blis And all delight does raigne, much more then this? There thou maist loue, and dearely loued bee, And swim in pleasure, which thou here doest mis; There maist thou best be seene, and best maist see: The wood is fit for beasts, the court is fit for thee. Who so in pompe of proud estate (quoth she) xl Does swim, and bathes himselfe in courtly blis, Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee, And in obliuion euer buried is: Where ease abounds, yt’s eath to doe amis; But who his limbs with labours, and his mind Behaues with cares, cannot so easie mis. Abroad in armes, at home in studious kind Who seekes with painfull toile, shall honor soonest find. In woods, in waues, in warres she wonts to dwell, xli And will be found with perill and with paine; Ne can the man, that moulds in idle cell, Vnto her happie mansion attaine: Before her gate high God did Sweat ordaine, And wakefull watches euer to abide: But easie is the way, and passage plaine To pleasures pallace; it may soone be spide, And day and night her dores to all stand open wide. In Princes court, The rest she would haue said, xlii But that the foolish man, fild with delight Of her sweet words, that all his sence dismaid, And with her wondrous beautie rauisht quight, Gan burne in filthy lust, and leaping light, Thought in his bastard armes her to embrace. With that she swaruing backe, her Iauelin bright Against him bent, and fiercely did menace: So turned her about, and fled away apace. Which when the Peasant saw, amazd he stood, xliii And grieued[549] at her flight; yet durst he not Pursew her steps, through wild vnknowen wood; Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned shot Whiles in the bush he lay, not yet forgot: Ne car’d he greatly for her presence vaine, But turning said to _Trompart_, What foule blot Is this to knight, that Ladie should againe Depart to woods vntoucht, and leaue so proud disdaine?