Part 72

If he could only know this lady, he would serve and obey her with all benignity; but if his destiny were otherwise, he would gladly love and serve his lady, whosoever she might be. He called on Venus for help to possess his queen and heart’s life, and vowed daily war with Diana: “that goddess chaste I keepen in no wise to serve; a fig for all her chastity!” Then he rose and went his way, passing by a rich and beautiful shrine, which, Philobone informed him, was the sepulchre of Pity. “A tender creature,” she said,

“Is shrined there, and Pity is her name. She saw an eagle wreak* him on a fly, *avenge And pluck his wing, and eke him, *in his game;* *for sport* And tender heart of that hath made her die: Eke she would weep, and mourn right piteously, To see a lover suffer great distress. In all the Court was none, as I do guess,

“That could a lover half so well avail,* *help Nor of his woe the torment or the rage Aslake;* for he was sure, withoute fail, *assuage That of his grief she could the heat assuage. Instead of Pity, speedeth hot Courage The matters all of Court, now she is dead; *I me report in this to womanhead.* *for evidence I refer to the behaviour of women themselves.*

“For wail, and weep, and cry, and speak, and pray, — Women would not have pity on thy plaint; Nor by that means to ease thine heart convey, But thee receive for their own talent:* *inclination And say that Pity caus’d thee, in consent Of ruth,* to take thy service and thy pain, *compassion In that thou may’st, to please thy sovereign.”

Philobone now promised to lead Philogenet to “the fairest lady under sun that is,” the “mirror of joy and bliss,” whose name is Rosial, and “whose heart as yet is given to no wight;” suggesting that, as he also was “with love but light advanc’d,” he might set this lady in the place of her of whom he had dreamed. Entering a chamber gay, “there was Rosial, womanly to see;” and the subtle-piercing beams of her eyes wounded Philogenet to the heart. When he could speak, he threw himself on his knees, beseeching her to cool his fervent woe:

For there I took full purpose in my mind, Unto her grace my painful heart to bind.

For, if I shall all fully her descrive,* *describe Her head was round, by compass of nature; Her hair as gold, she passed all alive, And lily forehead had this creature, With lively *browes flaw,* of colour pure, *yellow eyebrows <28> Between the which was mean disseverance From ev’ry brow, to show a due distance.

Her nose directed straight, even as line, With form and shape thereto convenient, In which the *goddes’ milk-white path* doth shine; *the galaxy* And eke her eyne be bright and orient As is the smaragd,* unto my judgment, *emerald Or yet these starres heav’nly, small, and bright; Her visage is of lovely red and white.

Her mouth is short, and shut in little space, Flaming somedeal,* not over red I mean, *somewhat With pregnant lips, and thick to kiss, percase* *as it chanced (For lippes thin, not fat, but ever lean, They serve of naught, they be not worth a bean; For if the bass* be full, there is delight; *kiss <29> Maximian <30> truly thus doth he write).

But to my purpose: I say, white as snow Be all her teeth, and in order they stand Of one stature; and eke her breath, I trow, Surmounteth all odours that e’er I fand* *found In sweetness; and her body, face, and hand Be sharply slender, so that, from the head Unto the foot, all is but womanhead.* *womanly perfection

I hold my peace of other thinges hid: Here shall my soul, and not my tongue, bewray; But how she was array’d, if ye me bid, That shall I well discover you and say: A bend* of gold and silk, full fresh and gay, *band With hair *in tress, y-broidered* full well, *plaited in tresses* Right smoothly kempt,* and shining every deal. *combed

About her neck a flow’r of fresh device With rubies set, that lusty were to see’n; And she in gown was, light and summer-wise, Shapen full well, the colour was of green, With *aureate seint* about her sides clean, *golden cincture* With divers stones, precious and rich: Thus was she ray’d,* yet saw I ne’er her lich,** *arrayed **like

If Jove had but seen this lady, Calisto and Alcmena had never lain in his arms, nor had he loved the fair Europa, nor Danae, nor Antiope; “for all their beauty stood in Rosial; she seemed like a thing celestial.” By and by, Philogenet presented to her his petition for love, which she heard with some haughtiness; she was not, she said, well acquainted with him, she did not know where he dwelt, nor his name and condition. He informed her that “in art of love he writes,” and makes songs that may be sung in honour of the King and Queen of Love. As for his name —

“My name? alas, my heart, why mak’st thou strange?* *why so cold Philogenet I call’d am far and near, or distant?* Of Cambridge clerk, that never think to change From you, that with your heav’nly streames* clear *beams, glances Ravish my heart; and ghost, and all in fere:* *all together Since at the first I writ my bill* for grace, *petition Me thinks I see some mercy in your face;”

And again he humbly pressed his suit. But the lady disdained the idea that, “for a word of sugar’d eloquence,” she should have compassion in so little space; “there come but few who speede here so soon.” If, as he says, the beams of her eyes pierce and fret him, then let him withdraw from her presence:

“Hurt not yourself, through folly, with a look; I would be sorry so to make you sick! A woman should beware eke whom she took: Ye be a clerk: go searche well my book, If any women be so light* to win: *easy Nay, bide a while, though ye were *all my kin.”* *my only kindred*

He might sue and serve, and wax pale, and green, and dead, without murmuring in any wise; but whereas he desired her hastily to lean to love, he was unwise, and must cease that language. For some had been at Court for twenty years, and might not obtain their mistresses’ favour; therefore she marvelled that he was so bold as to treat of love with her. Philogenet, on this, broke into pitiful lamentation; bewailing the hour in which he was born, and assuring the unyielding lady that the frosty grave and cold must be his bed, unless she relented.

With that I fell in swoon, and dead as stone, With colour slain,* and wan as ashes pale; *deathlike And by the hand she caught me up anon: “Arise,” quoth she; “what? have ye drunken dwale?* *sleeping potion <31> Why sleepe ye? It is no nightertale.”* *night-time “Now mercy! sweet,” quoth I, y-wis afraid; “What thing,” quoth she, “hath made you so dismay’d?”

She said that by his hue she knew well that he was a lover; and if he were secret, courteous, and kind, he might know how all this could be allayed. She would amend all that she had missaid, and set his heart at ease; but he must faithfully keep the statutes, “and break them not for sloth nor ignorance.” The lover requests, however, that the sixteenth may be released or modified, for it “doth him great grievance;” and she complies.

And softly then her colour gan appear, As rose so red, throughout her visage all; Wherefore methinks it is according* her *appropriate to That she of right be called Rosial. Thus have I won, with wordes great and small, Some goodly word of her that I love best, And trust she shall yet set mine heart in rest.

Rosial now told Philobone to conduct Philogenet all over the Court, and show him what lovers and what officers dwelt there; for he was yet a stranger.

And, stalking soft with easy pace, I saw About the king standen all environ,* *around <32> Attendance, Diligence, and their fellaw Furtherer, Esperance,* and many one; *Hope Dread-to-offend there stood, and not alone; For there was eke the cruel adversair, The lover’s foe, that called is Despair;

Which unto me spake angrily and fell,* *cruelly And said, my lady me deceive shall: “Trow’st thou,” quoth she, “that all that she did tell Is true? Nay, nay, but under honey gall. Thy birth and hers they be no thing egal:* *equal Cast off thine heart, <33> for all her wordes white, For in good faith she loves thee but a lite.* *little

“And eke remember, thine ability May not compare with her, this well thou wot.” Yea, then came Hope and said, “My friend, let be! Believe him not: Despair he gins to doat.” “Alas,” quoth I, “here is both cold and hot: The one me biddeth love, the other nay; Thus wot I not what me is best to say.

“But well wot I, my lady granted me Truly to be my wounde’s remedy; Her gentleness* may not infected be *noble nature With doubleness,* this trust I till I die.” *duplicity So cast I t’ avoid Despair’s company, And take Hope to counsel and to friend. “Yea, keep that well,” quoth Philobone, “in mind.”

And there beside, within a bay window, Stood one in green, full large of breadth and length, His beard as black as feathers of the crow; His name was Lust, of wondrous might and strength; And with Delight to argue there he think’th, For this was alway his opinion, That love was sin: and so he hath begun

To reason fast, and *ledge authority:* *allege authorities “Nay,” quoth Delight, “love is a virtue clear, And from the soul his progress holdeth he: Blind appetite of lust doth often steer,* *stir (the heart) And that is sin; for reason lacketh there: For thou dost think thy neighbour’s wife to win; Yet think it well that love may not be sin;

“For God, and saint, they love right verily, Void of all sin and vice: this know I weel,* *well Affection of flesh is sin truly; But very* love is virtue, as I feel; *true For very love may frail desire akele:* *cool For very love is love withoute sin.” “Now stint,”* quoth Lust, “thou speak’st not worth a pin.” *cease