Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A02817
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The historie of graunde Amoure and la bell Pucel, called the Pastime of plesure co[n]teining the knowledge of the seue[n] sciences, [and] the course of mans life in this worlde. Iuuented [sic] by Stephen Hawes, grome of kyng Henry the seuenth his chamber.; Pastime of pleasure
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Hawes, Stephen, d. 1523?
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1554
(1554)
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STC 12950; ESTC S106025
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88,700
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218
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celestine And yet also the perfect phisyke Whiche appertcyneth well to the bodye Dothe well resemble vnto the musyke When the inwarde intrailes turneth contrary That nature can not worke dyrectly Then dothe phisyke the partes interiall In order set to their originall But yet phisyke can not be liberall As the seuen scyences by good aucthoritie Whiche leadeth the soule the way in speciall By good doctrine to dame eternitie Onely of phisike it is the propertie To ayde the body in euery sickenes That is right fraile and full of brittlenes And because phisike is appendant Unto the body by helpe of medicine And to the soule nothing apportenaunt To cause the body for to encline In eternall health so the soule to domine For to the body the sciences seuen Dothe teache to leade the soule to heauen And musyke it selfe is melodious To reioyce the eares and comfort the braine Sharpyng the wittes with sound ' solacious Deuoydyng bad thoughtes whiche did remayne It gladdeth the hart also well certaine Length the lyfe with dulcet armonye As is good recreation after study She cōmaūded her minstrels right anone to play Mamours the swete and the gentle daunce With la bell Pucell that was fayre and gay She me recommended with all pleasaunce To daunce true measure withoute variaunce O lorde God howe glad then was I So for to daunce with my swete ladye By her proper hande soft as any silke With due obeysaunce I did her then take Her skynne was white as whales bone or mylke My thoughtes was rauished I might not aslake My brennyng hart she the fire did make These daunces truely musyke hath me taught To lute or daunce but it auayled nought For the fyre kindled and waxed more and more The dauncyng blewe it with her beauty cleare My hart sickened and began to waxe sore A minute vi houres and. vi houres a yere I thought it was so heauy was my chere But yet for to couer my great loue aryght The outwarde coūtenaunce I made glad light And for feare mine eyes should mine hart bewray I toke my leaue and to a temple went And all alone I to my selfe did saye Alas what fortune hath me hither sent To deuoyde my ioye and my hart torment No man can tell howe great a paine it is But if he will fele it as I do iwysse Alas O lady howe cruell art thou Of piteous doloure for to builde a nest In my true hart as thou doest ryght nowe Yet of all ladyes I must loue the best Thy beauty therto did me surely arest Alas with loue when that it dothe the please Thou maiest cease my care my payne sone ease Alas howe sore may I nowe bewayle The piteous chaunce whiche did me happe My ladyes lokes did me so assayle That sodaynely my harte was in a trappe By Uenus caught and with so sore a clappe That throughe the great stroke did perse Alas for wo I coulde not reuerse Farewell all ioye and all perfect pleasure Fare well my lust and my likyng For wo is comen with me to endure Nowe must I leade my life in mournyng I may not lute or yet daunce or syng O la bell Pucell my lady glorious You are the cause that I am so dolorous Alas faire lady and mine owne swete hart With my seruyce I yelde me to your will You haue me fettred I may not astart At your pleasure you maye me saue or kyll Because I loue you wyll you me spyll Alas it were a piteous case in dede That you with death shoulde rewarde my mede A a that I am right wo begone For I of loue dare not to you speake For feare of nay that may encrease my mone Anay of you might cause my hart to breake Alas I wretche and yet vnhappy peke Into suche trouble misery and thought With sight of you I am into it brought And to my selfe as I made complaint I spied a man right nere me beforue Whiche right anone did with me acquaynt Me thinke he sayed that ye are neare forlorne With inwarde payne that your hart hath borne Be not to pensyfe call to mynde agayne Howe of one sorowe ye do nowe make twayne Mine inwarde sorowe ye begyn to double Go your way quod I for ye can not me ayde Tell me he sayed the cause of your trouble And of me nowe be nothing afrayed Me thynke that sorowe hath you ouerlayed Driue of no lenger but tell me your mynde It may me happe a remedy to fynde A a quod I it vayleth not your speache I wyll wyth you neuer haue medlyng Let me alone the most vnhappy wretche Of all the wretches that is yet liuyng Suche is the chaunce of my bewaylyng Go on your waye you are nothing the better To me to speake to make my sorowe greater For so the he sayed remember thinges thre The first is that ye may sorowe long Unto your selfe or that you ayded be And secondly in great paynes stronge To muse alone it myght turne you to wrong The thirde is it myght you well ease truely To tell your mynde to a frende ryght trusty It is a iewell of a frende of trust As at your nede to tell your secretenes Of all your payne and feruent lust His councell sone may helpe and redresse Your paynefull wo and mortall heauines Alone is nought for to thinke and muse Therfore good sonne do me not refuse And sythe that you are plunged all in thought Beware the pytte of dolorous dispayre So to complayne it vayleth you right nought It may so fortune ye loue a ladye fayre Whiche to loue you will nothing repayre Or els ye haue lost great lande or substaunce By fatall chaunce of fortunes ordinaunce Tell me the cause thoughe that it be so In case you loue I knowe it by experience It is a payne engendryng great wo And harde it is for to make resistaunce Agaynst suche loue of feruent vyolence The loue is dreadfull but neuertheles There is no sore nor yet no syckenes But there is a salue and remedy therfore So for your payne and your sorowe great Councell is medicine whiche may you restore Unto your desire without any let If ye will tell me where your harte is set In thy chayre of sorowe no great doubt it is To fynde a remedye for your payne I wys A phisition truely can little decerne Ony maner sickenes without sight of vryne No more can I by good counsaile you learne All suche wofull trouble for to determine But if you mekely will to me enclyne To tell the cause of your great greuousnes Of your inwarde trouble and wofull sadnes Then I began with all my diligence To heare him speake so grounded on reason And in my minde did make aduertence Howe it was holesome in tribulation To saue a good and a true companion For to knowe my sorowe and wofull grefe It might me comforte and right well relefe And of him then I asked this question What was his name I prayed him