conclude
I wente my way for the multitude
Me for to refressħ out of the prees allone
And by my self me thought as I gan gone
Witħ in the estres and gan a whyle tarye
I sawe a man that walked al solitarye
That as me semed for heuynes and dole
Hym to compleyne, that he walked so sole
Witħ oute espyyng of ony other wight

And yf I sħal diseryuen hym a right
Yf that he had not ben in heuynes
Me thought he was, to speke of semelines
Of shap of fourme, and also of stature
The most passing, that euer yet nature
Made in her werkes, and lyke to be a man
And ther witħ al as I reherce can
Of face and chere the most gracyous
To be biloued happy and ewrous
Bur as it semed outward by his chere
That he complayned for lack of his desire
For by hym self as he walked vp and doun
I herde hym make a lamentacion
And said alas, what thing may this be
That now am bonde that whylom was fre
And wente at large at myn election
Now am I caught vnder subiection
For to become a beray homager
To god of loue, wher er I cam here
Felt in myn herte, nought of loues peyne
But now of newe, witħin hur firy cheyne
I am embraced so that I may not stryue
To serue and loue whyle I am on lyue

The godly freshe in the temple yonder
I sawe right now, that I had wonder
How euer god, for to rekene aƚƚ
Might make a thing so celestiaƚƚ
So angelike on erthe to appere
For witħ the stremes of her eyen clere
I am wounded euen to the hert
That fro the detħ I may not astert
And most I meruayle that so sodeinly
I was so yolde to be at hur mercy
Witħoute more, I muste her lust obeye
Whether that she liste me to lyue or deye
And take mekely my sodeyn auenture
For sitħ my lif, my detħ, and eke my cure
Is in her hand it wil not auaylle
To gruoche agayn, for of this bataylle
The palme is heris, and plainly the victorye
Yf I rebellid honour none ne glorye
I might not in ony wyse achyeue
Sitħ I am theolden, how shold I thenne preue
To renne a wey, I wote hit wil not be
Thougħ I be loos, at large I may not fle
O god of loue how sharp is now thyn arowe

How mayst thou now so cruelly and so narowe
Witħ oute cause hurte me and wounde
And takest none hede my sorowes to founde
But liche a birde that fleetħ at her desire
Tyl sodeynly witħyn the pantere
She is caught thaugħ late she was at large
Anewe tempest forcastetħ now my barge
Now vp now doun, witħ wynd it is so blowe
So am I possed and almost ouerthrowe
For dryue in derknes of many sondry wawe
Alas whan shal this tempest ouerdrawe
To clere the skyes of myn aduersite
The lode sterre whan that I ne may see
Hit is so hid witħ clowdes that be blake
Alas whan wyƚƚ this torment ouerslake
I can not wyte, for who is hurt of newe
And bledetħ inward til he wex pale of hue
And hatħ his wound vnwarly fressħ & grene
And hit is not couthe vnto the harmes kene
Of myghty cupyde that can so hertes daunte
That no man may in his warre hym vaunte
To gete a pryce but only by mekenes
For ther ne hayletħ stryf ne sturdynes

So may I sayne that witħ a loke am yolde
And haue no power to stryue thaugħ I wolde
Thus stonde I euer betwix lif and detħ
To loue and serue whyle I haue bretħ
In suche a place where I dar not pleyne
Liche hym that is in torment and in peyne
And knowetħ not to whom to discure
For ther that I haue holly set my aire
I dar not wel for drede ne for daunger
And for vnknowen tellen how the fyre
Of loues bronde is kyndlid in my breste
Thus am I murdred and slayn atte leste
So priuely witħyn my thought
O lady venus whom I haue sought
So wysse me now what me is best to doo
That am distraught witħ my self so
That I ne wote what way for to torne
Sauf by my self soleyn for to morne
Hangyng in balance betwix hope and drede
Witħ oute comfort remedye or rede
For hope biddetħ pursue and assaye
And agaynward drede answertħ naye
And now witħ hope I am set a lofte

But drede and daunger hard & nothyng softe
Hatħ ouerthrowe my trust and put a doun
Now at my large, now fetred in prisoun
Now in torment, now in souerayn glorye
Now in paradyse and now in purgatorye
As man dispayred in a double were
Born vp witħ hope, and theñe anon daunger
Me drawetħ aback, and saitħ it shal not be
For where as I of myne aduersite
Am bolde somwhyle mercy to requyre
Thenne cometħ dispair & gynnetħ me to lere
A newe lesson to hope ful the contrary
They be so diuerse they wil do me varye
And thus I stand dismayed in a traunce
For whan that hope were likly me tauaunce
For drede I tremble & dar one word not speke
And yf hit so be, that I not out breke
To telle the harmes that greuen me so sore
But in my self encrece them more and more
And to be slayn fully me delyte
When of my detħ she is nothing to wyte
For but yf she my constreynt plainly knewe
How shold she euer, on my peynes rue

Thus oft tyme witħ hope I am meuyd
To tel her aƚƚ, how I am greuyd
And to be hardy on me for to take
To axe mercy, but drede dotħ me theñe awake
And than wanhop answertħ me agayn
That better were than she haue disdayn
To dye attones vnknowe of ony wight
And ther witħ aƚƚ biddetħ hope anon right
Me, to be bold and prayen her of grace
And fitħ alle vertues be portreyd in her face
Hit were not sittyng, that pyte were behynde
And right anon witħyn my self I fynde
A newe plee brought on me witħ drede
That me so masetħ that I see no spede
Be cause he saitħ that stonyetħ al my blood
I am so symple and she is so good
Thus hope & drede in me wyl not sece
To plete and stryue my harmys to encrece
But at hardest yet or I be dede
Of my distresse sitħ I can no rede
But stande dom̄ styl as ony stone
To fore the goddesse I wil me haste anoñ
And compleyne witħ oute more sermoñ

Thougħ detħ be fyn and ful conclusion
Of my request, yet I wyl assaye
And right anon me thought I saye
This woful man as I haue memorye
Ful lowly entre in to an oratorye
And knelid a doun in ful humble wyse
To fore the goddesse and gan anon deuyse
His pitous quarel witħ a doleful chere
Sayng right this as ye shaƚƚ here

.The compleynt of the man.

Redresse of sorow O Citherea
That witħ the stremys of thy playsaunt hete
Gladest the mounte of al Cirrea
Where thou hast chosen thy paleys and sete
Whos bright beames ben wesshen and wete
In the ryuer of Elycon the welle
Haue now pyte of that I shal you telle

And not desdayne ye of your benygnyte
My mortal woo O lady myn goddesse
Of grace and bounte & mercyful pyte
Benygnely to helpe and to redresse
And thaugħ so be I can not wel expresse
The greuous harmes that I fele in my herte
Haue neuer yet the lesse mercy of my smerte

This is to sayne O cler heuenes light
That next the sonne sercled han your spere
Sitħ ye me hurte witħ your dredful myght
By influence of your beames clere
And that I by your seruyse now so dere
As ye me brought in to this maladye
Be ye gracyous and shape ye remedye

For in you hoolly lietħ help of al this caas
And knowe best my sorow and al my peyne
For drede of detħ, how I ne dar allas
To aren mercy ones, ne me compleyne
Now witħ your fyre her hert so constrayne
Witħ oute more, or I deye atte leste
That she may witte what is my request

How I no thyng in al this world desire
But for to serur fully to myn ende
That goodly