She mourned whan she knew him gone,
Full long she sought or she him found ayen,
Whan he went to death his crosse him vpon,
It was to her sight a rewful paine,

Whan be hong thereon, between theues twaine
And the speare vnto his herte thrust right,
She swouned, and to the ground there pight.

Whan deed and bloody in her lappe lay
His blessed body, both hands and fete all tore,
She cried out and said, now wel away,
Thus araide was neuer man before,
Whan hast was made his body to be bore
Unto his sepulture, here to remaine,
Unnethes for wo she coude her sustaine.

These sorowes seuen, like swerds euery one,
His mothers herte wounded fro syde to syde,
But if she knew her sonne thus gone,
Out of this world she shuld with death ride,
For care she coude no lenger here abide,
Hauing no more joy nor consolacioun,
Than I here standing in this stacioun.

Wherefore her to see I dare nat presume,
Fro her presence I wol my selfe refraine,
Yet had I leuer to die and consume,
Than his mother should haue any more pain,
Neuertheles her sonne I would see ful fain,
His presence was very ioy and sweetnes,
His absence is but sorrow and beauines.

There is no more, sith I may him nat mete,
Whom I desire aboue all other thing,
Nede I must take the sour with the swete,
For of his noble corse I here no tiding,
Full oft I cry, and my hands wring,
Myne herte alas relenteth all in paine,
Which will brast both senew and vainc.

Alas how vnhappie was this woful hour,
Wherein is thus mispended my seruice,
For mine intent and eke my true labour,
To none effect may come in any wise.
Alas I thinke if he doe me dispise,
And list not take my simple obseruaunce,
There is no more, but death is my finaunce.

I haue him called, Sed non respondet mihi,
Wherfore my mirth is tourned to mourning
O dere Lord Quid mali feci tibi,

That me to comfort I find no erthly thing,
Alas, haue compassion of my crying,
Yf fro me, Faciem tuam abscondis,
There is no more, but Consumere me vis.

Within myne herte is grounded thy figure,
That all this worlds horrible tourment,
May it not asswage, it is so without measure,
It is so brenning, it is so feruent,
Remember Lord I haue bin diligent,
Euer thee to please onely and no mo,
Myne herte is with thee where so euer I go.

Therefore my dere darling, Trahe me post te,
And let me not stand thus desolate,
Quia non est, qui consoletur me,
Myne herte for thee is disconsolate,
My paines also nothing me moderate,
Now if it list thee to speake with me aliue,
Come in hast, for my herte asonder will riue.

To thee I profer lo my poore seruice,
Thee for to please after mine owne entent,
I offer here, as in deuout sacrifice,
My boxe replete with pretious oyntment,
Myne eyen twaine, weeping sufficient,
Myne herte with anguish fulfilled is alas
My soule eke redy for loue about to pas.
Naught els haue I thee to please or pay,
For if mine herte were gold or pretious stone,
It should be thine without any delay,
With hertely chere thou shuld haue it anone,
Why suffrest thou me then to stand alone,
Thou hast I trow my weeping in disdaine,
Or els thou knowest nat what is my paine.

If thou withdraw thy noble daliaunce,
For ought that euer I displeased thee,
Thou knowest right wel it is but ignorance,
And of no knowledge for certainte,
If I haue offended Lord forgiue it me,
Glad I am for to make full repentaunce,
Of all thing that hath bin to thy greuaunce:

Myne herte alas swelleth within my brest
So sore opprest with anguish and with paine,
That all to peeces forsooth it woll brest,
But if I see thy blessed corse againe,
For life ne death I can nat me refraine,
If thou make delay thou maist be sure
Myne herte woll leape into this sepulture.

Alas my Lord, why farest thou thus with me,
My tribulation yet haue in mind,
Where is thy mercy? where is thy pite?
Which euer I trusted in thee to find,
Sometime thou were to me both good and kind,
Let it please thee my prayer to accept,
Which with teares I haue here bewept.

On me thou oughtest to haue very routh,
Sith for thee is all this mourning,
For sith I to thee yplighted first my trouth,
I neuer varied with discording,
That knowest thou best, my owne darling,
Why constrainest thou me thus to waile?
My wo forsooth can thee nothing availe.

1 haue endured without variaunce,
Right as thou knowest, thy louer iust and trew,
With herte and thought aye at thine ordinance,
Like to the saphire alway in one hew,

I neuer chaunged thee for no new,
Why withdrawest thou my presence,
Sith all my thought is for thine absence,

With herte intier, sweet Lord I crie to thee,
Encline thine ears to my petition,
And come, Velociter exaudi me,
Remember mine hertes dispositioun,
It may not endure in this conditioun,
Therefore out of these paines, Libera me,
And where thou art, Pone me juxta te.

Let me behold, O Jesu thy blissed face.
Thy faire glorious angellike visage,
Bow thine eares to my complaint, alas,
For to conuey me out of this rage,
Alas my lord, take fro me this dommage,
And to my desire for mercy condiscend,

For none but thou may my greuaunce amend.

Now yet good Lord, I thee beseech and pray,
As thou raised my brother Lazarous
From death to life, the fourth day
Came ayen in body and soule precious:
As great a thing maist thou shew vnto vs,
Of thy selfe, by power of thy godhead,
As thou did of him, lying in graue dead.

Mine herte is wounded with thy charite,
It brenneth, it flameth incessauntly,
Come my dear Lord, Ad adjuvandum me,
Now be not long, my paine to multiplie,
Least in the mean time I depart and die:
In thy grace I put both hope and confidence,
To do as it pleaseth thy high magnificence.

Floods of death, and tribulatioun,
Into my soule I feele entred full deepe,
Alas that here is no consolatioun,
Euer I waile, euer I mourne and weepe,
And sorow hath wounded mine herte ful deepe,
O deare loue, no maruaile though I die,
Sagittæ tuæ infiræ sunt mihi.

Wandring in this place, as in wildernesse,
No comfort haue I, ne yet assuraunce,
Desolate of ioy, replete with faintnesse,
No answere receiuing of mine enquiraunce,
Mine herte also greued with displeasaunce,
Wherefore I may say, O Deus, 0 Deus,
Non est dolor sicut dolor meus.

Mine herte expresseth, Quod dilexi multum,
I may not endure though I would faine,
For now Solum superest sepulchrum,
I know it right well by my huge paine,
Thus for loue I may not life sustaine,
But O God, I muse what ayleth thee,
Quod sic repente præcipitas me.

Alas, I see it wol none otherwise be,
Now must I take my leaue for euermore,
This bitter paine hath almost discomfite me,
My loues corse I can in no wise restore,
Alas to this wo that euer I was bore,
Here at this tombe now must I die and starue,
Death is about my herte for to carue.

My testament I woll begin to make,
To God the father my soule I commend,
To Jesa my loue, that died for my sake,
My herte and all both I giue and send,
In whose loue my life maketh end,
My body also, to this monument,
I here bequeath both boxe and ointment.

Of all my wills, lo now I make the last,
Right in this place, within this sepulture.
I woll be buried whan I am dead and past,
And vpon my graue I woll baue this scripture:
"Here within resteth a ghostly creature,
Christs true louer, Mary Magdalaine,
Whose herte for loue brake in peeces twaine."

Ye vertuous women, tender of nature,
Full of pitie and of compassion,
Resort I pray you vnto my sepulture,
To sing my dirige with great deuotion,
Shew your charitie in this condition,
Sing with pitie, and let your hertes weepe,
Remembring I-am dead and layd to sleepe.

Than whan ye begin to part me fro,

And ended haue your mourning obseruaunce,
Remember wheresoeuer that ye go,
Alway to search and make due enquerence
After my loue, mine hertes sustenaunce,
In euery towne and in euery village,
If ye may here of this noble image.

And if it happe by any grace at last,
That ye my true loue find in any cost,
Say that his Magdaleine is dead and past,
For his pure loue hath yeelded vp the ghost,
Say that of all thing I loued him most,
And that I might not this death eschew,
May paines so sore did euer renew,

And in token of loue perpetual,
Whan I am buried in this place present
Take out mine herte, the very root and al,
And close it within this boxe of ointment,
To my deare lone make thereof a present,
Kneeling downe with words lamentable,
Do your message, speake faire and tretable,

Say that to him my selfe I commend
A thousand times, with herte so free,
This poore token say to him I send,
Pleaseth his goodnesse to take it in gree,
It is his own of right, it is his fee
Which he asked, whan he said long before,
Giue me thy herte, and I desire no more.

Adue my Lord, my loue so faire of face,
Adue my turtle doue, so fresh of hew,
Adue my mirth, adue all my sollace,
Adue alas my sauiour Lord Jesu,
Adue the gentillest that euer I knew.
Adue my most excellent paramour,
Fairer than rose, sweeter than lilly flour.

Adue my hope of all pleasure eternall,
My life, my wealth, and my prosperitie,
Mine herte of gold, my perle orientall,
Mine adamant of perfite charitie,
My cheefe refuge, and my felicitie,
My confort, and all my recreatioun,
Farewell my perpetuall saluatioun.

Farewell mine emperour celestiall,
Most beautifull prince of all mankind,
Adue my Lord, of herte most liberall,
Farewell my sweetest, both soule and mind,
So louing a spouse shall I neuer find,
Adue my soueraine, and very gentilman,
Farewell dere herte, as hertely as I can.'
Thy words eloquent flowing in sweetnesse,
Shal no more alas my mind recomfort,
Wherfore my life must end in bitternesse,
For in this world shall I neuer resort
To thee, which was mine heauenly disport,
I see alas it woll none other be,
Now farewell the ground of all dignitie.

Adue the fairest that euer was bore,
Alas I may not see your blessed face,
Now welaway that I shall see no more
Thy blessed visage, so replete with grace,
Wherein is printed my perfite sollace,
Adue mine hertes root and all for euer,
Now farewell, I must from thee disceuer,

First I note, as thing most noyous
Unto youth a greeuons maladie,
Among us called loue encombrous,
Uexing yong people straungelie,
Oft by force causeth hem to die,
Age is eke turmented by loue,
Bineath the girdle, and not aboue.

Wherfore this werk, which is right laborous
For age me need nat in hond to take,
To youth me oweth to be obsequious,
Now I begin thus to worke for his sake,
Which may the feruence of loue aslake
To the louer, as a mitigatiue,
To him that is none a preseruatiue.

That mighty lord which me gouerneth,
Youth I meane, measure if I pace
In euery matter which him concernetb,
First, as is behouefull, I woll aske grace,
And forthwithall in this same place,
Ere I begin, I woll kneel and sa
These few words, and him of helpe pray.

"Flouring youth, which hast auauntage
In strength of body, in lust and beaute,
Also a precelling hast aboue age
In many a singular commodite,
Howbeit, one thing he hath beyond thee,
To thy most profite and greatest auaile,
Which shuld the conduit, I mean sad counsaile.

"And yet good lord, of a presumption,
I nill depraue thy might and deitie,
I liue but vnder thy protection,
I am thy subiect, weare thy liuerie,
For thou art ground of my prosperitie,
And freshest floure of all my garland,
My singular aid, as I well vnderstand.
"But as he that oweth his lord best seruise,
And entire faith, his honour to support,
Right so I speake, and in none other wise,
I knowledge my selfe one of the least sort
Of thy seruaunts, to our elders comfort,
Draw sad counsaile to thee if thou list,
Thee and thy power, who may than resist."

"Fe on age, vnder words few,
And his erronious opinion,

What spekest of him, which saith most vntrue,
All youth to be of ill dispositioun,
Dampneth vs all without exceptioun,
And for a colerable auauntage,

He saith in him resteth counsaile sage.

"Well may sad counsaile in him rest,
But yet his deeds ben ferre therefro,
He may say with our parish priest,
'Do as I say, but not as I do,'
For I my selfe know one or two,
Well striken in age, for neighbourhed
Woll to their neighbours wiues bed.

"He will in presence of the young man
Her clippe and kisse, ye and doune. lay,
To bleare his eye, thus he saieth than,
'O suffer ye old Morel to play,
Now haue I doen that I can or may,'
Thus he saieth her husband to queme,
That he nor no man should not misdeme.

"In word nor deed nedeth him not be coy,
It is impossible that he doe amisse,

If the yong man speake, anone he saith, 'Boy,
To rebuke age, beseemeth thee not iwis,'
Thus his old face aye his warrant is,
All is in him sleight and subtiltee,
And ferre from reason I tell thee.

"And shortly age is not aboue me,
Age is impotent, and of no resistence,
Age vnweldie may not fight nor flee,
What were age, without my defence

(Sad counsaile saist thou giueth him assistance)
Reason is freshest where that I am,
Wherefore in thy saying thou art to blame.

"Sith reason to me is rather accompanied
Than vnto age, whith is the opinion
Of euery wise man not to be denied,
And sith sad counsaile proceedeth of reason,
Sad counsaile in me hath his cheef mansion,
This is no nay, but what is the end
Of this thy suasion, what doest entend."

Age to compare vnto thine excellence,
I will presume him so to dignifie,
Ye be not egall, howbeit experience
Him auauntageth, for she most certainly,
Him teacheth what thing to him is contrary,
And oft to foresee it, and warely eschew
Which thou neuer assaidest yet nor knew.

"Experience maketh a man most certaine
Of any thing yearthly, and of necessite,
Sad counsaile requireth certaintie plaine,
So ferre to moue thus whereto need we
But to my purpose, as thou commandest me,
Shortly mine entent is thus, and none other,
Under thy license to counsaile my brother."
"How shuldest thou giue any counsail so yong.
Lacking experience vnto thine owne speach,

1 report me, I wote well as for thy tong
Wil serue thee right wel, but than for to teach,
I doubt me lest that thy wit woll not reach,
Youth and experience thou saist be not conuert,
How shouldest thou than teach well vnexpert."

"Scripture witnesseth, that God will oft shitte
Fro the hie witted man, and shew it to the child,
To him I meane that of his own witte
Presumeth not, but is debonaire and mild,
By counsaile I entend vertue for to bild,
Which of mine elders part haue I borowed,
And part of experience, which I haue sorowed."

"Wel than, if it be as thon lettest fare,
Shew forth thy doctrine, be not agast,
I woll thee support, looke thou not spare,
Maugre age, though he frete or gnast,
To aske age counsaile berein, were but wast,
Boldely begin, go forth to the processe,
Feare not sith thou art of such surenesse."

"Graunt mercie lord, sith it thee doeth like
To license me, now I woll dare boldly
Assail my purpose, with scriptures autentike,
My werke woll I ground, vnderset, and fortefie,
Aspire my beginning, O thon wood furie,
Alecto, with thy susters, and in especiall
To the mother of ielousie Juno I call."

EXPLICIT PROLOGUS.

THE REMEDY OF LOVE.

This book, drawn for the most part out of the Proverbs of Solomon, is a warning to take heed of the deceitful company of women.

THIS werke who so shall see or rede,
Of any incongruitie do me not impeche,
Ordinately behoueth me first to procede

In deduction thereof, in manner as the leche
His patients siknesse oweth first for to seche,
The which known, medicin he should applie,
And shortly as he can, than shape a remedie.

Right so by counsaile, willing thee to exhort,
O yong man prosperous, which doth abound
In thy floures of lust belongeth on thee sort,
Me first to consider what is root and ground
Of thy mischeefe, which is plainly found,
Woman farced with fraud and deceit,
To thy confusion most allectiue bait.

Fly the miswoman, least she thee deceiue,
Thus saith Salomon, which taught was fully
The falshed of women in his days to conceiue,
The lips of a strumpet ben sweeter than hony,
Her throte he saith soupled with oil of flatery,
Howbeit, the end and effect of all
Bitterer is than any wormwood or gall.

Fly the miswoman, louing thy life,
Ware the straungers bland eloquence,
Straunge I call her that is not thy wife,
Of her beauty haue no concupiscence,
Her countenance pretending benenolence,
Beware her signes, and eye so amiable,
Hold it for ferme, they ben deceiuable.

Lo an ensample what women be
In their signes and countenaunce shortly,
I woll shew thee how louers three
Loued one woman right entirely,
Ech of them knew others maladie,
Wherefore was all their daily labour,
Who coud approch next in her fauour.

At sundry seasons, as fortune requireth,
Seuerally they came to see her welfare,
But ones it happened, loue them so fireth,
To see their lady they all would not spare,
Of others coming none of them were ware,
Till all they mette, whereas they in place
Of hir lady saw the desired face.

To supper set, full smally they eat,
Full sober and demure in countenaunce,
For there taried none of hem for any meat,
But on his lady to giue attendaunce,
And in secret wise some signifiaunce
Of loue to haue, which perceiuing she,
Fetely executed thus her properte.

In due season, as she alway espied
Euery thing to execute conueniently,
Her one louer first friendly she eied,
The second she offred the cup courtesly,
The third she gaue token secretly,
Underneath the bord she trade on his foot,
Through his entrailes tikled the berte root.

By your leaue, might I here ask a question
Of you my maisters, that sewe loues trace,
To you likely belongeth the solution,
Which of these three stood now in grace?
Clerely to answere ye would ask long space,
The matter is doubtfull and opinable,
To acertaine you I woll my selfe enable.

Of the foresaid three my selfe was one,
No man can answere it better than I,
Hertely of vs beloued was there none,
But Wattes packe we bare all by and by,
Which at last I my selfe gan aspie,
In time as me thought than I left the daunce,
O thoughtfull herte, great is thy greuaunce.
Hence fro me hence, that me for to endite
Halpe aye here afore, O ye Muses nine,
Whilom ye were wont to be mine aid and light,
My penne to direct, my braine to illumine,
No lenger alas may I sewe your doctrine,
The fresh lustie metres, that I wont to make
Haue been here afore, I vtterly forsake.

Come hither thou Hermes, and ye furies all,
Which fer ben vnder vs, nigh the nether pole,
Where Pluto reigneth, O king infernall,
Send out thine arpies, send Anguish and Dole,
Miserie and Wo, leaue ye me not sole,

Of right be present must Pain and eke Turment,
The pale Death beseemeth not to be absent.

To me now I call all this lothsome sort,
My pains t'encrease, my sorows to augment,
For worthie I am to be bare of all comfort,
Thus sith I haue consumed and mispent
Not only my days, but my 5 fuld talent,
That my Lord committed me, I can't recompence
I may not too derely abie my negligence.

By the path of penaunce yet woll I reuert
To the well of grace, mercy there to fetch,
Despisest not God the meeke contrite herte
Of the cock crow, alas that I would not retch,
And yet it is not late in the second wetch,
Mercy shall I purchase by incessaunt crying,
The mercies of our Lord euer shall I sing.

1

But well maist thou wail wicked woman,
That thou shuldest deceiue thus any innocent
And in recompence of my sinne, so as I can,
To al men wol I make and leue this monument,
In shewing part of thy falshed is mine entent,
For all were too much, I cannot well I wote,
The cause sheweth plainly he that thus wrote.

If all the yearth were parchment scribable,
Speedie for the hand, and all manner wood
Were hewed and proportioned to pens able,
All water inke, in damme or in flood,
Euery man being a parfit scribe and good,
The cursednesse yet and deceit of women
Coud not be shewed by the meane of pen.

I flie all odious resemblaunces,
The deuils brond call women I might,
Whereby man is encensed to mischaunces,
Or a stinking rose that faire is in sight,
Or deadly empoyson, like that sugar white,
Which by his sweetnesse causeth man to tast,
And sodainly sleeth and bringeth him to his last.

It is not my manner to vse such language,
But this my doctrine, as I may lawfully,
I woll holly ground with authoritie sage,
Willing both wisedome, and vertue edifie,
Wine and women into apostasie,

Cause wisemen to fall, what is that to say,
Of wisedome cause them to forget the way.

Wherefore the wiseman doth thee aduise,
In whose words can be found no leasing,
With the straunger to sit in no wise,
Which is not thy wife, fall not in clipping
With her, but beware eke of her kissing,
Keep with her in wine no altercation,
Least that thine herte fall by inclination.

May a man thinkest hide and safe lay
Fire in his bosome, without empairement,
And brenning of his clothes? or whider he may
Walke on hote coles, his feet not brent?
As who saith nay, and whereby is ment
This foresaid prouerbe and similitude,
But that thou ridde thee plainly to denude.

From the flatterers forgetting her gide,
The gide of her youth, I mean Shamefastnes,
Which shuld cause her maidenhead to abide,
Her Gods bebest eke she full recheles,
Not retching, committeth it to forgetfulnes,
Neither God ne shame in her hauing place,
Needs must such a woman lacke grace.

And all that neigh her in way of sinne
To tourne, of grace shall lacke the influence,
The pathes of life no more to come in,
Wherefore first friend thee with Sapience,
Remembring God, and after with Prudence,
To thine owne weale that they thee keepe,
Unto thine herte least her words creepe.

In his book where I take my most ground,
And in his prouerbes, sage Salomon
Telleth a tale, which is plainly found
In the fifth chapiter, whider in deed don,
Or meekely feined to our instruction,
Let clerkes determine, but this am I sure,
Much like thing I haue had in vre.

"At my window" saith he "I looked out,
Fair yong people, where I saw many,
Among hem all, as I looked about,
To a yong man fortuned I lent mine eye,
Estraunged from his mind it was likely,
By the street at a corner nigh his own hous,
He went about with eye right curious.

"Whan that the day his light gan withdraw,
And the night approched in the twilight,
How a woman came and met him I saw,
Talking with him vnder shade of the night,
'Now blessed be God' (quod she)' of his might,
Which hath fulfilled mine hertes desire,
Aslaked my paines, which were hote as fire.""

And yet mine authour, as it is skill,
To follow, I must tell her arrayment,
She was full nice, soules like to spill,
As nice in countenaunce yet as in garment,
For jangling she was of rest impatient,
Wandring still, in no place she stode,
But restlesse now, and now out she yode.

Now in the house, now in the strete,
Now at a corner she standeth in await,
Incessauntly busie her pray for to gete,
To bring to the lure whom she doth lait.
Now where I left, vnto my matter strait
I woll tourne againe, how she him mette,
Sweetly kissed, and friendly hem grette.

With words of curtesie many and diuerse,
Right as in part I haue before told,
Now as I can, I purpose to reherse,
How she flattering said with visage bold,
"I have made vowes and offerings manifold
For thy sake, O mine herte, O my loue dere,
This day I thanke God all performed were.

"Therefore I came out, and made thus astart, Uery desirous your welfare to see,

Now I haue seene you, pleased is mine herte,
In faith shall none haue my loue but ye,
As true as I am to you, be to me,

I pray you hertely dere herte come home,
No man should be to me so welcome.

"And in good faith, the sooth for to say,
Your comming to me ran in my thought,
Herke in your eare, my bed fresh and gay,
I haue behanged with tapettes new bought,
From Egipt, and from far countries brought,
Steined with many a lustie fresh hue,
Exceeding gold or jasper in value.

"My chamber is strowed with mirre and insence,
With sote sauoring aloes, and with sinamome,
Breathing an aromatike redolence,
Surmounting olibane, in any mans dome,
Ye shall betweene my breasts rest if ye come,
Let vs haue our desired halsing,

For we may safe be till in the morning.