ANODHER PARTE OF THE WOODE.
Reading edition
CELMONDE, BIRTHA.
BIRTHA.
Thys merkness doe affraie mie wommanns breaste. Howe sable ys the spreddynge skie arrayde! Hailie the bordeleire, who lyves to reste, Ne ys att nyghtys flemynge hue dysmayde; The starres doe scantillie[110] the sable brayde; 1010 Wyde ys the sylver lemes of comforte wove; Speke, Celmonde, does ytte make thee notte afrayde?
CELMONDE.
Merker the nyghte, the fitter tyde for love.
BIRTHA.
Saiest thou for love? ah! love is far awaie. Faygne would I see once moe the roddie lemes of daie. 1015
CELMONDE.
Love maie bee nie, woulde Birtha calle ytte here.
BIRTHA.
How, Celmonde, dothe thou mene?
CELMONDE.
Thys Celmonde menes. No leme, no eyne, ne mortalle manne appere, Ne lyghte, an acte of love for to bewreene; Nete in thys forreste, botte thys tore[111], dothe sheene, 1020 The whych, potte oute, do leave the whole yn nyghte; See! howe the brauncynge trees doe here entwyne, Makeynge thys bower so pleasynge to the syghte; Thys was for love fyrste made, & heere ytt stondes, Thatte hereynne lovers maie enlyncke yn true loves bondes. 1025
BIRTHA.
Celmonde, speake whatte thou menest, or alse mie thoughtes Perchaunce maie robbe thie honestie so fayre.
CELMONDE.
Then here, & knowe, hereto I have you broughte, Mie longe hydde love unto you to make clere.
BIRTHA.
Oh heaven & earthe! whatte ys ytt I doe heare? 1030 Am I betraste[112]? where ys mie Ælla, saie!
CELMONDE.
O! do nete nowe to Ælla syke love bere, Botte geven some onne Celmondes hedde.
BIRTHA.
Awaie! I wylle be gone, & groape mie passage oute, Albeytte neders stynges mie legs do twyne aboute. 1035
CELMONDE.
Nowe bie the seynctes I wylle notte lette thee goe, Ontylle thou doeste mie brendynge love amate. Those eyne have caused Celmonde myckle woe, Yenne lette yer smyle fyrst take hymm yn regrate. O! didst thou see mie breastis troblous state, 1040 Theere love doth harrie up mie joie, and ethe! I wretched bee, beyonde the hele of fate, Gyss Birtha stylle wylle make mie harte-veynes blethe. Softe as the sommer flowreets, Birtha, looke, Fulle ylle I canne thie frownes & harde dyspleasaunce brooke. 1045
BIRTHA.
Thie love ys foule; I woulde bee deafe for aie, Radher thanne heere syche deslavatie[113] sedde. Swythynne flie from mee, and ne further saie; Radher thanne heare thie love, I woulde bee dead. Yee seynctes! & shal I wronge mie Ælla's bedde, 1050 And wouldst thou, Celmonde, tempte me to the thynge? Lett mee be gone—alle curses onne thie hedde! Was ytte for thys thou dydste a message brynge! Lette mee be gone, thou manne of sable harte! Or welkyn[114] & her starres wyll take a maydens parte. 1055
CELMONDE.
Sythence you wylle notte lette mie suyte avele, Mie love wylle have yttes joie, altho wythe guylte; Youre lymbes shall bende, albeytte strynge as stele; The merkye seesonne wylle your bloshes hylte[115].
BIRTHA.
Holpe, holpe, yee seynctes! oh thatte mie blodde was spylte! 1060
CELMONDE.
The seynctes att distaunce stonde ynn tyme of nede. Strev notte to goe; thou canste notte, gyff thou wylte. Unto mie wysche bee kinde, & nete alse hede.
BIRTHA.
No, foule bestoykerre, I wylle rende the ayre, Tylle dethe do staie mie dynne, or somme kynde roder heare. 1065 Holpe! holpe! oh godde!