Verse > Anthologies > T. H. Ward, ed. > The English Poets > Vol. I. Chaucer to Donne
Thomas Humphry Ward, ed.  The English Poets.  1880–1918.
Vol. I. Early Poetry: Chaucer to Donne
Extracts from The Pastime of Pleasure: Dialogue between Graunde Amoure and La Pucel
By Stephen Hawes (d. 1523)
[From Cantos xviii. and xix.]

O SWETE lady, the good perfect starre
Of my true hart, take ye nowe pitie,
Thinke on my paine, whiche am tofore you here,
With your swete eyes beholde you and se,
Howe thought and wo, by great extremitie        5
Hath chaunged my hue into pale and wanne.
It was not so when I to loue began.
So me thinke, it dothe right well appeare
By your coloure, that loue hath done you wo,—
Your heuy countenaunce, and your doleful cheare,—        10
Hath loue suche might, for to aray you so
In so short space? I maruell muche also
That you woulde loue me, so sure in certayne
Before ye knew that I woulde loue agayne.
My good deare hart, it is no maruaile why;
Your beauty cleare and louely lokes swete,
My hart did perce with loue so sodainely,
At the firste time, that I did you mete
In the olde temple, when I did you grete.
O lady deare, that pers’d me to the root;        20
O floure of comfort, all my heale and boote. 1
Your wo and paine, and all your languishyng
Continually, ye shall not spende in vayne,
Sithe I am cause of your great mournyng.
Nothinge exile you shall I by disdaine:        25
Your hart and mine shall neuer part in twaine,
Thoughe at the first I wouldne not condescende,
It was for feare ye did some yll entende.
With thought of yll my minde was neuer mixt
To you, madame, but always cleare and pure        30
Bothe daye and nyght, vpon you whole perfixt
Put I my minde, yet durst nothing discure
Howe for your sake I did such wo endure,
Till nowe this houre with dredfull hart so faint,
To you, swete hart, I haue made my complaint.        35
I demed oft you loued me before;
By your demenoure I did it espye,
And in my minde I judged euermore
That at the last ye woulde full secretely
Tell me your minde, of loue right gentilly:        40
All ye haue done so my mercy to craue
In all worship, you shall my true loue haue.
O gemme of vertue, and lady excellent
Aboue all other in beauteous goodlines,
O eyen bright as starre refulgent,        45
O profounde cause of all my sickenes,
Nowe all my joye and all my gladnes,
Wouldne God that we were joyned in one
In mariage, before this daye were gone.
Note 1. For these two lines the Ed. of 1555 reads:—
  Your beaute my herte so surely assayde
That syth that tyme it hath to you obayde.

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