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Thus, my dere fwetyng! in a traunce I lye, And fhal, til drops of pitie from you spring, I mene your mercie, that lieth my herte nye, That me maie rejoyce, and caufe for to fyng Thefe termes of love; lo I have won the ring, My godely maiftris: thus of his gode grace God graunt her bliffe in heven to have a place! 84

Explicit.

and Ju

Herefolorveth hor Mercurie, with Pallas, Venus, no, appered to Paris of Troie, be flepyng by a fountain*.

Pallas loquitur ad Parin.

SONNE of Priam, gentill Paris of Troie,
Wake of thy flepe, beholde us goddeffes thre,
We havin brought to the encrefe of joye,
To thy difcrefion reportyng our beautie;
Take here this appill, and well advife the
Whiche of us is the fairist in thy fight,
And give thou it, we praie the, gentil knight.
Juno loquitur primo.

If fo be thou give it to me, Parise,
This fhal I give unto thy worthines,
Honour and conqueft, nobley, lofe and prife,

*The title in Speght and Urry runs, How Mercury, with Pallas, Venus, and Minerva, &c. but as Pallas and Minerva is one and the fame goddefs, and as Juno was the third goddess at this interview with Paris, her name in the title, and as one of the appellants to the Trojan prince, is fubftituted for that of Mi

nerva.

Victorie, courage, force, and hardines,
Gode avinture, and famous manlines;
For that appil all this give I to the,
Confidir this Parife, and give it me.

Venus loquitur ad Parin.

Naie, give it me, and this I shall you give,
A glad afpecte with favour and fairnes,
And love of ladies alfo while ye live,
Famous ftature and princely femelines,
Accordyng to your natife gentilnes;
Undirftand this gift well, I you advise,
And give it unto me hardly Parise.

Pallas loquitur ad Parin.

Ye, ye, Parife, takith hede unto me;
Thou art a prince yborne by thy difcente,
And for to rule thy royall dignite

I fhall the givin first intendèmente,
Difcrecion, prudence in right judgèmente,
Whiche in a prince is thing moft covenable:
Give it to me; I am to have it able.

Explicit.

A balade plefaunte.

I Have a ladie, where so that she be,

That feldome is fhe foveraine of my thought,
On whofe beautie when I beholde and fe,
Remembryng me how well fhe is ywrought,
I thanke Fortune that to her grace me brought,

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So faire is fhe, but nothyng angelike,

Her beautie is unto none othir like.

For hardily and she were made of braffe,
Her face and all, the hath enough fairnesse;
Her eyen ben holow' and grene as any graffe,
And ravenish yelowe is her founitresse,
Thereto she hath of every comelineffe
Soche quantitie givin her by Nature
That with the left she is of her ftature.

And as a bolt her browis ben ibent, -
And betill browed fhe is also with all,
And of her witte as fimple' and innocent
As is a childe that can no gode at all;
She is not thicke, her ftature is but small.
Her fingirs ben litil and nothyng long;
Her skin is fmothe as any ox'is tong:
Thereto she is fo wife in daliaunce,

And befet her wordis fo womanly,
That her to here it doeth me difplefaunce,
For that the faieth is faied fo connyngly

That when there be no mo then she and I
I had levir fhe were of talkyng ftill

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Then that she should fo godelie fpechè spill.

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And flothe none shall ye have in her entreffe,

So diligent is she and vertuleffe,

And fo bufie aie all gode to undresse,

That as a she ape she is harmeleffe,
And as an harnet meke and pitèleffe,

With that she is so wife and circumfpecte
That prudence none her folie can infecte.

Is it not joye that soche one of her age,
Within the boundes of fo grete tendirneffe,
Should in her werke be fo fadde and fo fage,
That of the weddyng fawe all the noblesse
Of Quene Jane, and ywas tho as I geffe
But of the age of yeris ten and five ?
I trowe there are not many foche alive.
For, as Jefu my finfull foulè fave,
There n'is creture in all this worlde livyng
Like unto her that I would gladly have,
So plefith mine hert that godely fwete thyng,
Whose foule in hafte unto his blis ybryng
That first her formid to be a creture,
For were the well of me I did no cure.

Explicit the diferivyng of a faire ladie.

An other balade.

O Moffie quince! yhangyng by your stalke,
The whiche no man dare plucke awaie nor take
Of all the folke that paffe forthe by or walke,
Your flouris freshe be fallen awaie and shake;
I am right forie, maistresse,
your fake;
Ye feme a thyng that all men have forgoten ;
Ye be fo ripe ye waxin almofte roten.

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Your uglie cherè, deinous and froward,
Your grene eyin, frownyng and nothing glad,
Your chekes, enbolned like a melowe costard,
Colour of orenge, your breftes fatournad,
Gilt on wara'ntife, the colour wil not fade,
Bawfin buttockid, belied like a tonne,

Men crie S. Barbaʼry at the' lofing of your gonne. 14

Lovely leude maistris, take confideracion,

I'am fo forowfull there as ye be' abfent,

Floure of the barkfate fouleft of al the nacion,
To love you but a little' is myne entent;

The swert hath fwent you, the fmoke hath you fhent,
I trow ye' have ben laid on some kill to drie,
You do foch worship there as ye be present,
Of al women I love you beft a M. timis fie.

Explicit.

A balade warnyng men to beware of deceitfull women.

LORE well aboute ye that loviris be,
Let not your luftis lede you to dotage,
Be not enamoured on all thynges ye fe;
Sampfon the forte and Salomon the fage
Decevid were for all ther grete courage;
Men demin it right that thei fe with eye,
Beware therefore, The blind eteth many a flie.

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