O gemme of vertue, and lady excellent! Above all other in beauteous goodlynesse! O eyen bright as sterre refulgent, O profounde cause of all my sekenesse, Now all my joye and all my gladnes, Wolde God that we were joyned in one, In maryage, before this day were gone. Pucell. A, a! sayd she, ye must take a payne a whyle; I must depart, by the compulcyon Of my frendes, I wyl not you begyle, Though they me led to a ferre nacion, My heart shall be without variacion Wyth you present, in perfite sykernes, As true and stable without doublenes. To me to come is harde and daungerous, When I am there; for gyauntes ugly, Wyth two monstres also, blacke and tedyous, That by the waye awayte full cruelly For to distroye you yll and utterly, Whan you that way do take the passage, To attayne my love by hye advauntage. Amoure. All that, madame, was to me certyfyde By good dame Fame, at the begynnynge, Whan she to me of you well notyfide, As she came frome the toure of Lernynge, Of all such enemyes the myght excludynge. I promyse unto you here, full faythfully, Whan I departe frome dame Astronomy, That I wyll to the toure of Chyvalry, And for your sake become adventurous To subdue all enemyes to me contrary; That I may after be ryght joyous Wyth you, my lady, most swete and precyous. Wo worth the cause of your departynge, Which all my sorowes is in renuynge! Alas! what pleasure, and eke wythout disporte, Shall I now have, whan that ye be gone? Ha, ha! truly now wythout good conforte, My dolorous herte shall be left alone, Wythout your presence to me is none; For every houre I shall thynke a yere, Tyll fortune brynge me unto you more nere. Yet after you I wyll not be ryght longe, But hast me after as faste as I maye; In the toure of Chyvalry I shall make me stronge, And after that passe shortly on my way, Wyth diligent laboure on my journay. Spyte of your enemyes, I shal me so spede, That in short tyme ye may rewarde my mede. I thanke you, quod she, with my hert entere; But yet with me ye shall make covenaunt, As I to you am ryght lefe and dere, Unto no persone ye shall so advaunte That I to love you am so attendaunte, For any thynge your councell not bewraye, For that full soone might us bothe betraye. And to tell me I pray you hertely; Yonder is Counseyle, how were ye acquaynted? He is bothe honest and true certaynly: Doth he not knowe how your hert is faynted, Wyth fervent love so surely attaynted? Yf ye so do, yet I nothyng repent, He is so secrete and true of entent. Truely, madame, because ye are content I shall you tell how the matter was; Whan that your beaute, clerely splendent, Into my herte full wonderly dyd passe, Lyke as fayre Phebus dothe shyne in the glas, All alone, wyth inwarde care so rent, Into a temple forth on my way I went.