FIRST DISCOURSE (continued 5)
A. R. (Alfred Richard) Allinson translation
Next she did wish for Spring to come, and her lover to be a garden full of flowers, with the which she might deck her head and her beautiful throat and bosom, yea! and roll her lovely body among them between the sheets.
Likewise she did oftimes wish it to be Summer, and her lover a clear fountain or glittering stream, for to receive her in his fair, fresh waters, when she should go to bathe therein and take sport, and so fully and completely to let him see, touch over and over again, each of her lovely, wanton limbs.
Finally she did desire it to be Autumn, for him to return once more to his proper shape, and she to be a woman and her lover a man, that both might in that season have wit, sense and reason to contemplate and remember over all the by-gone happiness, and so live in these delightsome memories and reveries of the past, and inquire and discourse betwixt them which season had been most meet and pleasant for their loves.
In such wise was this lady used to apportion and adjudge the seasons. Wherein I do refer me to the decision of better informed writers than myself to say which of the four was like to be in its qualities most delightful and agreeable to the twain.
Now for good and all I do make an end of this present subject. If any will know further thereof and learn more of the divers humours of cuckolds, let him study an old song which was made at Court some fifteen or sixteen years agone, concerning cuckolds, whereof this is the burden:
Un cocu meine l’autre, et tousjours sont en peine; Un cocu meine l’autre.
(One cuckoo maketh many, and all are in sorry case; one cuckoo many maketh.)
I beg all honourable ladies which shall read any of my tales in this chapter, if byhap they do pay any heed to the same, to forgive me and if they be somewhat highly spiced, for that I could scarce have disguised them in more modest fashion, seeing the sauce such must needs have. And I will say further I could well have cited others still more extravagant and diverting, were it not that, finding it impossible to cover the same with any veil of decent modesty, I was afeared to offend such honourable ladies as shall be at the pains and do me the honour to read my books. Now will I add but one thing further, to wit, that these tales which I have here set down are no petty stories of market-town and village gossip, but do come from high and worthy sources, and deal not with common and humble personages. I have cared not to have aught to do but only with great and high subjects, albeit I have dealt with such discreetly; and as I name no names, I think I have well avoided all scandal and cause of offence.
Femmes, qui transformez vos marys en oyseaux, Ne vous en lassez point, la forme en est très-belle; Car, si vous les laissez en leurs premières peaux, Ilz voudront vous tenir toujours en curatelle, Et comme hommes voudront user de leur puissance; Au lieu qu’estant oyseaux, ne vous feront d’offense.
(Ladies fair, which do transform your husbands into birds, weary not of the task, the shape they so take is a right convenient one. For if you do leave them in their first skins, they will for ever keep you under watch and ward, and manlike will fain to use their power over you; whereas being birds, they will do you no offence.)
Another Song:
Ceux qui voudront blasmer les femmes amiables Qui font secrètement leurs bons marys cornards, Les blasment à grand tort, et ne sont que bavards; Car elles font l’aumosne et sont fort charitables. En gardant bien la loy à l’aumosne donner, Ne faut en hypocrit la trompette sonner.
(They that will be blaming well meaning wives which do in secret give their husbands horns, these do much wrong by their reproaches, and are but vain babblers; for indeed such dames are but giving alms and showing good charity. They do well observe the Christian law of almsgiving,—never, like the hypocrites, sound the trumpet to proclaim your good deeds!)
An old Rhyme on the Game of Love,—found by the Author among some old papers:
Le jeu d’amours, où jeunesse s’esbat, A un tablier se peut accomparer. Sur un tablier les dames on abat; Puis il convient le trictrac préparer, Et en celui ne faut que se parer. Plusieurs font Jean. N’est-ce pas jeu honneste, Qui par nature un joueur admoneste Passer le temps de cœur joyeusement? Mais en défaut de trouver la raye nette, Il s’en ensuit un grand jeu de torment.
(The game of love, whereat youth takes its delight, may be likened to a chess-board. On a chess-board we lay down the pieces,—dames, ladies; then ’tis the time to marshal our men, and herein we have but to make the best game we can. Many play the masterful king; and is it not merely fair play, and an abomination of dame Nature, that a man should make his game in hearty, joyous wise? But should he fail to find a sound queen (quean), why! his game is like to end in woeful pain and sorrow.[110])
