And so farre blynded, That he can nat[196] parceyue How he doth hym disceyue, I dought, lest by sorsery, 660 Or suche other loselry, As wychecraft, or charmyng; For he is the kynges derlyng, And his swete hart rote, And is gouerned by this mad kote: For what is a man the better For the kynges letter? For he wyll tere it asonder; Wherat moche I wonder, How suche a hoddypoule 670 So boldely dare controule, And so malapertly withstande The kynges owne hande, And settys nat[197] by it a myte; He sayth the kynge doth wryte And writeth he wottith nat[198] what; And yet for all that, The kynge his clemency Despensyth with his demensy. But what his grace doth thinke, 680 I haue no pen nor inke That therwith can mell; But wele I can tell How Frauncis Petrarke, That moche noble clerke, Wryteth how Charlemayn Coude nat[199] him selfe refrayne, But was rauysht with a rage Of a lyke dotage: But how that came aboute, 690 Rede ye the story oute, And ye shall fynde surely It was by nycromansy, By carectes and coniuracyon, Vnder a certeyne constellacion, And a certayne fumygacion, Vnder a stone on a golde ryng, Wrought to Charlemayn the king, Whiche constrayned him forcebly For to loue a certayne body 700 Aboue all other inordinatly. This is no fable nor no lye; At Acon it was brought to pas, As by myne auctor tried it was. But let mi masters mathematical Tell you the rest, for me they shal; They haue the full intellygence, And dare vse the experyens, In there obsolute consciens To practyue[200] suche abolete sciens; 710 For I abhore to smatter Of one so deuyllysshe a matter. But I wyll make further relacion Of this isagogicall colation, How maister Gaguine, the crownycler Of the feytis of war That were done in Fraunce, Maketh remembraunce, How Kynge Lewes of late Made vp a great astate 720 Of a poore wretchid man, Wherof moche care began. Iohannes Balua was his name, Myne auctor writeth the same; Promoted was he To a cardynalles dygnyte By Lewes the kyng aforesayd, With hym so wele apayd, That he made him his chauncelar To make all or to mar, 730 And to rule as him lyst, Tyll he cheked at the fyst, And agayne all reason Commyted open trayson And[201] against his lorde souerayn; Wherfore he suffred payn, Was hedyd, drawen, and quarterd, And dyed stynkingly marterd. Lo, yet for all that He ware a cardynals hat, 740 In hym was small fayth, As myne auctor sayth: Nat[202] for that I mene Suche a casuelte shulde be sene,