Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. I. Early Poetry: Chaucer to Donne
Stephen Hawes (d. 1523)Extracts from The Pastime of Pleasure: Dialogue between Graunde Amoure and La Pucel
Amoure.
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
Hath chaunged my hue into pale and wanne.
It was not so when I to loue began.
By your coloure, that loue hath done you wo,—
Your heuy countenaunce, and your doleful cheare,—
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.
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;
O floure of comfort, all my heale and boote.
Continually, ye shall not spende in vayne,
Sithe I am cause of your great mournyng.
Nothinge exile you shall I by disdaine:
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.
To you, madame, but always cleare and pure
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.
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:
All ye haue done so my mercy to craue
In all worship, you shall my true loue haue.
Aboue all other in beauteous goodlines,
O eyen bright as starre refulgent,
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.