FROM COLYN CLOUTE My name is Colyn Cloute. I purpose to shake oute Lyke a clerkely hagge; For though my ryme be ragged, Tattered and jagged, Rudely rayne beaten, Rusty and moughte-eaten,3 For, as farre as I can se, It is wronge with eche degre; 5 Accuseth the spiritualte; A glommynge and a mummynge, All to have promocyon; There is theyr hole devocyon, With money, if it wyll hap, 50 60 70 80 "Be it right or wrong, these men among 'on women do complaine, Affermyng this, how that it is a labour spent in vaine To love them wele, for never a dele they love a That she was in. Now I begynne, soo that 4 complain the one in secret 7 fault haughty scarcely 9 custom 20 4 two together 5 habit, "A barons childe to be begyled, it were a curssed dede, To be felaw with an outlawe, almyghty God forbede! Yet bettyr were the power 3 squyer alone to forest yede, Than ye shal say, another day, that be 2 wyked dede my Ye were betrayed; wherfore, good maide, the 5 best red that I can, Is that I too the grenewode goo, alone, a banysshed man." 91 Remembre you wele how that ye dele, for yf ye, as ye sayde, Be so unkynde to leve behynde your love, the Notbrowne Maide, Trust me truly that I shal dey sone after ye be gone; For in my mynde of all mankynde I love but you alone." "Yef that ye went, ye shulde repent, for in the forest now I have purveid me of a maide, whom I love more than you, Another fayrer than ever ye were, I dare it wel avowe; And of you both, cche shuld be wrothe with other, as I trowe. It were myn case to lyve in pease; so wyl I yf I can; Wherfore I to the wode wyl goo, alone, a banysshid man.' 150 Though in the wood I undirstode ye had a paramour, All this may nought remeve my thought, but that I wyl be your; And she shal fynde me softe and kynde, and curteis every our, Glad to fulfylle all that she wyl commaunde me, to my power; For had ye, loo! an hondred moo, yet wolde I be that one; For in my mynde of all mankynde I love but you alone." 'Myn owne dere love, I see the prove that ye be kynde and trewe; Of mayde and wyfe, in all my lyf, the best that ever I knewe! Be mery and glad, be no more sad, the case is chaungèd newe; For it were ruthe that for your trouth you shuld have cause to rewe. 160 Be not dismayed, whatsoever I sayd, to you whan I began, I wyl not too the grenewode goo, I am noo banysshyd man." "Theis tidingis be more glad to me than to be made a quene, Yf I were sure they shuld endure; but it is often seen, When men wyl breke promyse, they speke the wordis on the splene.1 1 1 capriciously |