A place of pleasure and delectacyon,
Strowed with floures flagraunte of ayre,
Without ony spotte of perturbacyon.
I behelde ryght well the operacyon
Of the mervaylous rofe set full of rubyes,
And tynst with saphers and many turkeys.
The walles were hanged with golden aras,
Whiche treated well of the syege of Thebes.
And yet all about us depured was
The cristallyne wyndowes of great bryghtnes.
I can nothynge extende the goodlynes
Of this palays, for it is impossyble
To shewe all that unto me vysyble.
But La Belle Pucell full ryght gentylly
Dyde sytte adowne by a wyndowes syde,
And caused me also full swetely
By her to sytte at that gentyll tyde.
Whelcome! she sayd, ye shall with me abyde,
After your sorowe to lyve in joye and blysse;
You shall have that ye have deserved ywys.
Her redolente wordes of swete influence
Degouted vapoure moost aromatyke,
And made conversyon of complacence;
Her depured and her lusty rethoryke
My courage reformed, that was so lunatyke;
My sorowe defeted, and my mynde dyde modefy,
And my dolorous herte began to pacyfy.
All thus my love we gan to devyse,
For eche of other were ryght joyous.
Than at the last in a mervaylous wyse
Full sodaynly there came unto us
Lyteil Cupyde with his mother Venus,
Which was well cladde in a fayre mantyll blewe,
With golden hertes that were perst anewe.
And rounde about us she her mantyll cast,
Sayeng that she and her sone Cupyde
Wolde us conjoyne in mariage in hast;
And to lete knowe all youre courte soo wyde,
Sende you Perseveraunce before to provyde,
To warne your ladyes for to be redy,
To morowe betyme ryght well and solemply.
We answered bothe our hertes were in one,
Sayeng that we dyde ryght well agre,
For all our foes were added and gone.
Ryght gladde I was that joyfull day to se;
And than anone, with grete humylytie,
La Bell Pucell to a fayre chambre bryght,
Dyde me than brynge for to rest all nyght.
And she toke her leve, I kyst her lovely.
I wente to bedde, but I coude not slepe,
For I thought so moche upon her inwardly,
Her moost swete lokes in to my herte dyde crepe,
Percynge it through with a wounde so depe;
For Nature thought every houre a daye
Tyll to my lady I sholde my dette well paye.
CAP. XXXIX.
OF THE GRETE MARIAGE BETWENE GRAUNDE AMOURE AND LA BELLE PUCELL.
Than Perceveraunce, in all goodly hast,
Unto the steward called Liberalite
Gave warning for to make redy fast
Agaynst this time of great solemnitie,
That on the morow halowed should be:
She warned the cooke called Temperaunce,
And after that the ewres Observaunce.
With Pleasaunce the paynter and dame Curtesy,
The gentyll butler with the ladies all,
Eche in her ofice was prepared shortly
Agaynst this feast so much tryumphall.
And La Belle Pucell then in speciall
Was up betime in the morow gray,
Right so was I, whan I sawe the daye.
And ryght anone La Belle Pucell me sente,
Agaynst my wedding, of the satyn fyne,
Whyte as the milke, a goodly garment,
Branded with perle that clerely did shyne;
And so the mariage for to determyne
Venus me brought to a ryall chappell,
Which of fyne golde was wrought every dele.
And after that the gay and glorious
La Belle Pucell to the chappell was ledde,
In a white vesture fayre and precious,
Wyth a golden chaplet on her yalow hede;
And Lex Ecclesie did me to her wedde;
After which wedding there was a great feast,
Nothing we lacked, but had of the best.
What should I tary by longe continuaunce
Of the fest, for of my joye and pleasure
Wysdom can judge withouten variaunce,
That nought I lacked as ye may well be sure,
Payeng the swete due det of nature;
Thus with my lady was so fayre and clere,
In joy I lived full right many a yere.
O, lusty youth and yong tender herte!
The true company of my lady bryght,
God let us never from other asterte,
But all in joy to lyve both day and nyght!
Thus after sorow joy aryveth aright:
After my payne I had sporte and play;
Full lytell thought I that it should decaye.
Tyll that dame Nature naturing had made
All thinge to grow to theyr fortitude,
And nature naturing waxte retrogarde,
By strength my youth so far to exclude,
As was ever her olde consuetude;
First to augment, and then to abate,
This is the custome of her hye estate.
CAP. XL.
HOW WHAN GRAUNDE AMOURE HAD LIVED LONGE WYTH LA BEL PUCELL, HE WAS
ARRESTED BY AEGE, THAT BROUGHT UNTO HIM POLYCY AND AVARYCE.
Thus as I lived in such pleasure gladde,
Into the chamber came full prively
A fayre olde man, and in his hand he hadde
A croked staffe; he wente full wekely:
Unto me than he came full softely,
And with his staffe he toke me on the brest,
Obey! he sayd, I must you nedes areste.
My name is Age, which have often sene
The lusty youth perysh unhappely,
Through the desert of the selfe I wene;
And evermore I do thinke inwardly,
That my dedes of you they were of great foly,
And thou thy selfe right joyous may be
To lyve so longe to be lyke to me.
Happy is they that may well overpasse
The narrow bridge over fragilite
Of his wanton youth, brytle as the glasse;
For the youth is open to all fraylte,
Redy to fall to great iniquite;
Full well is he that is brydeled fast
With fayre dame Reason tyll his youth be past.
I obeyed his rest; there was no remedy;
My youth was past, and all my lustynes;
And right anone to us came Polizy,
With Avaryce bringing great riches;
My hole pleasure and delyte doubtles
Was set upon treasure insaciate,
It to beholde and for to aggregate.
The fleshly pleasure I had cast asyde,
Lytle I loved for to playe or daunce;
But ever I thought how I might provyde
To spare my treasure, land or substaunce.
This was my minde, and all my purveyaunce,
As upon deth I thought lytle or never,
But gadred riches as I should lyve ever.
CAP. XLI.
HOWE HE WAS ARESTED BY DEATH.
But whan I thought longest to endure,
Deth with his darte arest me sodenly;
Obey! he sayd, as ye may be sure.
You can resist nothing the contrary
But that you must obey me naturally.
What you avayleth such treasure to take,
Sithens by force ye must it now forsake?
Alas! quod I, nothing can me ayde,
This worldly treasure I must leve behinde,
For erth of erth wyll have his dette now payde;
What is this world but a blast of wynde.
I must nedes dye, it is my native kinde.
And as I was at his last conclusyon,
To me did come dame Confession,
With dame Contricion, which gan to bewayle
My synnes great with hole repentaunce,
And Satisfaccion without any fayle,
Wyth dame Conscience, did wey in balaunce
How that they might than without doutaunce
My treasure and good so gotten wrongfully
To restore agayne to the rightfull party.
Of holy church with all humilite
My rightes I toke, and than incontinent
Nature avayled in so lowe degre
That deth was come, and all my lyfe was spent.
Out of my body my soule than it wente
To Purgatory, for to be purifyed,
That after that it might be glorified.
CAP. XLII.
HOWE REMEMBRAUNCE MADE HIS EPYTAPHY ON HIS GRAVE.
The good dame Mercy, with dame Charite,
My body buried full right humbly,
In a fayre temple of olde antiquite:
There was for me a dirige devoutly,
And with many a masse full right solemynely;
And over my grave to be in memory
Remembraunce made this lytle epetaphy:
O erth! on erth, it is a wonders case,
That thou art blynde and wyll not the know,
Though upon erth thou hast thy dwellyng place;
Yet erth at last must nedes the overthrow.
Thou thinkest thou do be no erth I trow,
For if thou diddest thou woldest than apply
To forsake pleasure and to lerne to dye.
Pryde.
O earth! of earth why art thou so proud?
Now what thou art call to remembraunce;
Open thine eares unto my song aloude;
Is not thy beaute, strength, and puyssaunce,
Though becladde with cloth of pleasaunce,
Very erth, and also wormes fode,
When erth to erth shall turne to the blode?
Wrath.
And, erth, with erth why art thou so wroth?
Remembre the that it vayleth right nought,
For thou mayst thinke, of a perfyte trothe,
If with the erth thou hast a quarell sought,
Amyddes the erth there is a place ywrought,
Whan erth to erth is torned properly,
The for thy synne to perrysh wonderly.
Envy.
And, erth, for erth why hast thou envy?
And the erth upon erth to be more prosperous
Than thou thy selfe fretting the inwardly?
It is a sinne right foule and vicious,
And unto God also full odious.
Thou thinkest, I trow, there is no punishment
Ordeyned for sinne by egall judgement.
Slouth.
Toward heven to folow on the way
Thou arte full slow, and thinkest nothing
That thy nature doth full sore decaye
And deth right fast is to the comyng.
God graunt the mercy, but no tyme enlongyng;
Whan thou hast time, take tyme and space,
Whan time is past, lost is the tyme of grace.
Covetyse.
And whan erth to erth is nexte to reverte,
And nature low in the last age,
Of erthly treasure erth doth sette his herte
Insaciately upon covetyse to rage;
He thynketh not his lyfe shall asswage,
His good is his God, with his great ryches,
He thinketh not for to leve it doutles.
Glotony.
The pomped clerkes with foles delicious
Erth often fedeth with corrupt glotony;
And nothing with werkes vertuous
The soule doth fede ryght well ententifly,
But without mesure full inordinatly
The body lyveth, and wyll not remember
Howe erth to erth must his strength surrender.
Lechery.
The vyle carkes set upon a fyre
Doth often haunte the syne of lechery,
Fulfyllyng the foule carnall desyre:
Thus erth with erth is corrupt mervaylously,
And erth on erth wyll nothing purify,
Till erth to erth be nere subverted,
For erth with erth is so perverted.
O mortall folke! you may beholde and se
Howe I lye here, sometime a myghty knyght;
The end of joye and all prosperite
Is deth at last, through his course and myght;
After the day there cometh the derke night;
For though the day be never so longe,
At last the belles ringeth to evensonge.
And my selfe called La Graunde Amoure,
Seking adventure in the worldly glory,
For to attayne the riches and honour,
Did thinke full lytle that I should here lye,
Tyll deth dyde marke me full ryght pryvely.
Lo what I am! and wherto you must!
Lyke as I am so shall you be all dust.
Than in your mynde inwardly despyse
The bryttle worlde, so full of doublenes,
With the vyle flesshe, and ryght sone aryse
Out of your slepe of mortall hevynes;
Subdue the devill with grace and mekenes,
That after your lyfe frayle and transitory,
You may than live in joye perdurably.
CAP. XLIII.
HOWE FAME CAME INTO THE TEMPLE WYTH BURNYNG TONGUES AND OTHER PRAYSE.
And as Remembraunce myne epytaphy set
Over my grave, in came dame Fame,
With brennyng tongues, without any let,
Sayeng that she would spreade about my name
To live in honoure without any shame:
Though that deade were my erthly body,
Yet my renowne shoulde raigne eternally.
The power, estate, and royall dignitie
Of dame Fame in every region
Is for to spreade by hye aucthoritie
The noble dedes of many a champion,
As they are worthy in mine opinion;
For thoughe his body be dead and mortall,
His fame shall endure and be memoriall.
Did not Graunde Amoure with his royall dedes
Winne La Bell Pucell the most fayre lady?
And of hye honour attayned the medes,
In the demeanyng him so worthely,
Sleyng the great terrible giauntes ugly,
And also the fyry monster vyolent,
Of the seven metalles made by enchauntment.
About the worlde in every nacion,
That evermore he shall abyde alyve,
Of his great actes to make relacion,
In bokes many I shall of him contrive,
From one to other I shall his name so drive,
That evermore, without extinguyshment,
In burnyng tongues he shall be permanent.
Hector of Troy.
Unto this day reygneth the hye renowne
Of the worthy Hector, prynce victorious:
About is spredde in every region and towne
His noble actes and courage chyvalrous,
In full many bokes ryght delicious,
Unto the reders howe lyst to geve audience,
To here reporte of his great excellence.
Josue.
And in lyke wyse duke Josue the gente,
Whiche was ryght strong and fyerce in battayle,
Whose noble feates hyghe and excellent
I have caused, wyth diligente travayle,
To abyde in bokes without ony fayle:
Who lyst his story for to se or here,
In the Byble it doth right well appere.
Judas Machabeus.
Also the noble and hardy feates of warre
Of Judas Machabeus I about have cast,
In every nacion for to reygne aferre;
Thoughe that his life out of this worlde be past,
His fame shal prospere and shall never wast;
Thus, wyth my power, of every worthy
I spred his dedes in tonges of memory.
Davyd.
Dyd not kyng Davyd a lyons jawe tere
In his tendre youth, he so hardy was?
The lyons cruelte myght nothinge him fere;
And after that he slewe great Golyas.
All in his time he dyd in honoure pas,
And I, dame Fame, wythout any doute,
Have spredde his name in all the worlde aboute.
Alexander.
Also kinge Alexander, the noble conquerour,
Whose great power in all the worlde was knowen,
Of me, dame Fame, he wanne the honoure,
As I my trompe after his death have blowen;
Whose sounde aloude can not be overthrowen.
Thus in flamynge tonges all aboute I flye
Throughe the worlde wyth my winges swyftly.
Julius Sezar.
And of the worthy Sezar Julyus,
All about wyth golden beames bryght,
His name shall dure and be full gloryous;
In all the worlde wyth ardaunt tongues lyght
His fame shall reigne, he hath it wonne by ryght,
For to abyde and ever to augment
Wythouten lette or yet ympediment.
Arthur.
Also yet Arthur, the good kinge of Brittayne,
Wyth all his knightes of the rounde table,
I nowe, dame Fame, shall make to remayne
Their worthy actes highe and honourable,
Perpetually for to be commendable;
In ryall bokes and jestes hystoryall,
Theyr fame is knowen right hyghe tryumphall.
Charles.
And than Charles the great kynge of Fraunce,
Wyth all his noble douseperes also,
As Rowland, and Olyver, of hys alyaunce,
With all the resydue and many other mo,
Theyr fame encreaseth rennyng to and fro;
The hardy dedes did them magnyfy,
Unto me, Fame, their names to notyfy.
Godfrey of Boleyn.
And Godfrey of Boleine, of hardy courage,
That of the paynyms wanne the vyctory,
His worthy actes did their strength aswage,
Whose fame renowmed is ful openly
About the worlde reygnynge so ryally,
In flamynge tongues to be intellygyble,
His most his actes so moche invyncible.
And in like wise without abatement,
I shall cause for to be memoriall
The famus actes so hyghe benevolent
Of Graunde Amoure, my knight in speciall;
His name shall dure and be eternall;
For though his body be wrapt in claye,
Yet his good fame shall remayne alway.
And ryght anone she called Remembraunce,
Commaundyng her ryght truely for to wryte
Both of myne actes and my governaunce,
Which than ryght sone began to endite
Of my feates of armes in a short respite,
Whose goodly stories in tongues severall
About were sent for to be perpetuall.
And thus I, Fame, am ever magnified
When earth in earth hath tane his estate;
Thus after death I am all glorified.
What is he nowe that can my power abate?
Infinite I am, nothing can me mate;
The spryng of honour and of famous clarkes,
My selfe I am to renowne their workes.
CAP. XLIV.
HOWE TYME CAME INTO THE TEMPLE IN A MARVAYLOUS SEMILITUDE, AND OF HIS
REPLYCATION.
And as dame Fame was in laudation,
Into the temple with marveilous lykenes
Sodainly came Time in breviacion,
Whose similitude I shall anone expresse;
Aged he was, with a bearde doubtles,
Of swalowes feaders his wynges were long,
His body federed; he was hye and strong.
In his left hande he had an horology,
And in his ryght hande a fyre brennyng,
A swerde about hym gyrte full surely,
His legges armed clerely shynyng;
And on his noddle darkely flamyng
Was set Saturne, pale as any ledde,
And Jupiter amiddes his foreheade.
In the mouthe Mars; and in his ryght wynge
Was splendent Phebus with his golden beames;
And in his breast there was replendishyng
The shinyng Venus, with depured streames,
That all about did cast her fyry leames;
In his left wynge Mercury; and above his waste
Was horned Dyane, her opposition past.
My name, quod he, is in division;
As tyme was, tyme is, and the tyme future:
I marveyle muche of the presumption
Of the dame Fame so puttyng in ure
Thy great prayse, saiyng it shall endure
For to be infinite evermore in prease,
Seyng that I shall al thy honoure cease.
Shall not I, Tyme, destroye both sea and lande?
The sunne and mone, and the starres all,
By very reason thou shalt understande,
At last shall lese their course in generall.
On tyme past it vayleth not to call:
Nowe by this horologe it doth well appeare,
That my last name dothe evermore drawe neare.
In my ryght hande the great fire so fervent
Shall burne the tyme, and also minyshe
The fatall tongues, for it is accident
Unto me, Time, all thinges to peryshe,
When my laste ende I shall accomplyshe;
And thus in vaine thou hast thy laboure spent,
When by me, Tyme, thou shalt be so brent.
In eternitie, before the creation
Of aungell and man, all thyng was visible
In Goddes syght, as due probation
Of his Godheade, whiche is intellygyble,
To whome nothyng can be impossible.
For in my selfe a hye and sufficient
Before all thynges he was refulgent.
Unto whome onely is apparaunce
Of my last ende, as myne originall
Was in his syght without doubtaunce;
For onely of hym it is especiall,
The hye power and godheade in finall,
The future tence to knowe directly,
Unto whome it appeareth openly.
I am the lodestarre to dame Eternitie;
When man of earth hath his creation,
After the minute of his nativitie,
He taketh then his operacion
Upon me, Tyme, at every season.
In the same houre the worlde was create,
Originally I toke myne estate.
Coulde the nyne worthies so victorious,
Do all their actes without tyme or space?
Tyme is a thyng both gay and glorious,
When it passeth with vertue and grace.
Man in this worlde hath a dwellyng place,
Eyther hell or heaven, wythout lesynge,
Alway he getteth in his tyme spendynge.
Withouten tyme is no erthly thynge,
Nature, fortune, or yet dame Sapyence,
Hardines, clergy, or yet lernynge,
Past, future, or yet in presence;
Wherfore I am of more hye preeminence,
As cause of fame, honoure, and clergy,
They can nothynge wythout hym magnyfy.
Do not I, Tyme, cause nature to augment?
Do not I, Tyme, cause nature to decay?
Do not I, Tyme, cause man to be presente?
Do not I, Tyme, take his lyfe away?
Do not I, Tyme, cause death take his say?
Do not I, Tyme, passe his youth and age?
Do not I, Tyme, every thynge asswage?
In tyme Troye the cyte was edyfied;
By tyme also was the destruccyon;
Nothinge without tyme can be fortified;
No erthly joye nor tribulacion,
Wythout time, is for to suffre passyon;
The tyme of erthe was our dystruccyon,
And the time of erthe was our redempcion.
Adam of erthe, sone of virginite,
And Eve by God of Adam create,
These two the worlde dampned in certaynete,
By disobedience so foule and vycyate;
And all other than frome them generate,
Tyll peace and mercy made right to enclyne
Out of the Lyon to enter the Vyrgyne.
Lyke as the worlde was distroyed totally
By the virgins sone, so it semed well
A virgins sone to redeme it pyteously,
Whose hye Godheed in the chosen vessell
Forty wekes naturally did dwell.
Nature wekes naturally dyd good of kynde,
In the vyrgyn he dyd suche nature fynde.
Thus wythout nature nature wonderly
In a vyrgyn pure openly hath wrought;
To the God of nature nothynge truely
Impossyble is, for he made of nought
Nature fyrst; whyche naturynge hath tought
Naturately right naturate to make;
Why may not he than the pure nature take
By his Godheed of the vyrgin Mary?
His elect mother and arke of testament,
Of holy chyrche the blessyd lumynary,
After the byrthe of her sone excellent,
Virgyn she was, yet alway permanent,
Dysnullynge the sectes of false idolatry,
And castynge downe the fatall heresy.
Thus whan I, Tyme, in every nacyon
Reygne in rest and also in peace;
And Octavyan, in hys dominacyon,
Throughe the worlde and the peopled preace
Letters had sent, his honoure to encreace;
Of all the numbre for to be certayne
For to abey hym as theyr soverayne:
In whose tyme God toke his nativitie,
For to redeme us with his precious bloud,
From the devils bonde of great iniquitie:
His hart was perst hangyng on the rode;
Was not this tyme unto man ryght good?
Shall not I, Tyme, evermore abyde,
Tyll that in Libra at the dreadfull tyde
Of the daye of dome then in the balaunce,
Almyghty God shall be just and egall
To every persone withouten doubtaunce,
Eche as they dyd deserve in generall,
Some to have joye, and some payne eternall,
Then I am past, I may no longer be,
And after me is dame Eternitie.
CAP. XLV.
HOWE ETERNYTE CAME INTO THE TEMPLE, AND OF HER VERTUOUS EXHORTACYON.
And thus, as Tyme made his conclusion,
Eternitie, in a fayre white vesture
To the temple came, with whole affection,
And on her head a diademe ryght pure,
With thre crownes of precious treasure;
Eternitie, she sayde, I am nowe doubtles,
Of heaven quene and of hell empresse.
First God made heaven his propre habitacle,
Though that his power be in every place,
In eterne heaven is his tabernacle;
Time is there in no maner of case;
Time renneth alway his ende to embrace;
Nowe I my selfe shall have no endyng,
And my maker had no begynnyng.
In heaven and hell I am continually
Withouten ende to be inextinguissible,
As evermore to reygne full royally,
Of every thyng I am invincible:
Man of my power shall be intelligible.
When the soule shall ryse against the body,
To have judgement to live eternally
In heaven or hell as he doth deserve:
Who that loveth God above every thyng
All his commaundementes he will then observe,
And spende his tyme in vertuous livyng;
Idlenes will evermore be escheuyng;
Eternall joye he shall then attayne,
After his laboure and his busy payne.
O mortall folke! revolve in your mynde
That worldly joye and frayle prosperitie
What is it lyke, but a blast of wynde?
For you therof can have no certaintie:
It is nowe so full of mutabilitie;
Set not your mynde upon worldly wealth,
But evermore regarde your soules health.
When earth in earth hath tane his corrupt taste,
Then to repent it is for you to late;
When you save tyme, spende it nothing in waste;
Tyme past with vertue must enter the gate
Of joye and blysse, with myne hye estate,
Without tyme for to be everlastyng,
Whiche God graunt us at our last endyng.
Nowe, blessed lady of the health eternall,
The quene of comfort and of heavenly glory,
Praye to thy swete sonne whiche is infinall,
To geve me grace to wynne the victory
Of the devill, the worlde, and of my body,
And that I may my selfe well apply
Thy sonne and the to laude and magnifie.
_Here endeth the Pastime of Pleasure._
THE EXCUSATION OF THE AUCTOUR.
Unto all Poetes I do me excuse,
If that I offende for lacke of science;
This lyttle boke yet do ye not refuse,
Though it be devoyde of famous eloquence;
Adde or detra by your hye sapience;
And pardon me of my hye enterpryse,
Whiche of late this fable dyd fayne and devise.
Go, little boke! I praye God the save
From misse metryng by wrong impression;
And who that ever list the for to have,
That he perceyve well thyne intencion,
For to be grounded without presumption,
As for to eschue the synne of ydlenes;
To make suche bokes I apply my busines.
Besechyng God for to geve me grace
Bokes to compyle of moral vertue;
Of my maister Lidgate to folowe the trace,
His noble fame for laude and renue,
Whiche in his lyfe the slouthe did eschue;
Makyng great bokes to be in memory,
On whose soule I pray God have mercy.
FINIS.
¶ Imprinted at London in Fletestreate, at the signe of the
Hande and Starre, by Rychard Tottell.
Anno M.D.L.V.
Transcriber’s Notes
--Provided an original book-cover image, free for use with this e-text.
--Preserved copyright notice in printed copy, although the e-text is
public domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected one word (“re_n_enue” to “re_u_enue”) based on the
apparatus of a critical edition of the text
--Silently corrected “punishme_u_t” to “punishme_n_t” on page 101.
--Comparing Table of Contents with section headings, fixed
inconsistencies by adding chapter headings XVII and XXVII in the
approximate location.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Pastime of Pleasure, by Stephen Hawes