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O noble wyves, ful of heigh prudence,
Let noon humilite your tonges nayle;
Ne lat no clerk have cause or diligence
To write of yow a story of such mervayle,
As of Grisildes pacient and kynde,
Lest Chichivachel yow swolwe in hir entraile.

Folwith ecco, that holdith no silence,
But ever answereth at the countretayle;
Beth nought bydaffed for your innocence,
But scharply tak on yow the governayle;
Empryntith wel this lessoun on your mynde,
For comun profyt, sith it may avayle.

Ye archewyves, stondith at defens,
Syn ye ben strong, as is a greet chamayle,
Ne suffre not that men yow don offens.
And sclendre wyves, felle as in batayle,
Beth egre as is a tyger yond in Inde;
Ay clappith as a mylle, I yow counsaile.

Ne drede hem not, do hem no reverence,
For though thin housbond armed be in mayle,
The arwes of thy crabbid eloquence
Schal perse his brest, and eek his adventayle:
In gelousy I rede eek thou him bynde,
And thou schalt make him couche as doth a quayle.

If thou be fair, ther folk ben in presence Schew thou thy visage and thin apparaile; If thou be foul, be fre of thy despense, To gete the frendes do ay thy travayle; Be ay of chier as light as lef on lynde, And let hem care and wepe, and wryng and wayle.

1 The allusion is to the subject of an old ballad. It is a kind of Pageant, in which two beasts are introduced, called Bycorne and Chichevache. The former is supposed to feed upon obedient husbands, and the latter upon patient wives; and the humour of the piece consists in representing Bycorne as pampered with a superfiuity of food, and Chichevache as half-starved. The name Chichevache is French, vacca parca, T.



(15. Cent.)

“The only writer deserving the name of a poet in the reign of Henry the Seventh is Stephen Hawes. He flourished about the close of the fifteenth century and was a native of Suffolk. ... His capital performance is a Poem entitled 'The Passetyme of Plesure or the History of Grande Amoure and la Bel Pucel, contayning the knowledge of the seven Sciences, and the course of man's lyfe in this worlde. It is dedicated to the King Henry VII

Neither the year of his birth nor of his death is known."

WARTON “History of English Poetry."



SIThE that all menne for the most part by a naturall inclination, desire rather to spend their dayes in plesure and delectable pastimes, then in paineful studyes and tedious labours. And yet nevertheles by the secrete inspiracion of Almighty God (all men in general) so insaciately thirsteth for the knowledge of wisdome and learnyng, that some for very earnest desire thero (thoughe nature grudgeth) cease not to spend their dayes and houres, with suche cotinuall and importunate travayle in sekynge the same, that havyng no regarde to the over pressyng of Nature, in searchynge with all diligence for the true vaine of knowledge, do sodainely bryng forth their owne confusion. Some contrariwise (whom nature to muche ruleth) beyng discomforted wyth painefull and tedious study, rather chose to be drowned in the stinkyng floude of ignoraunce, the wyth so muche sweate and paynes, to sayle (wyth a by wynde) into the plesaunt hande of wisdome and science, which thing considered (most gentle reader) I offer here unto the for thy better instruction this little volume, contey nynge and treatyng upon

the liberall sciences, and the whole course of man's life, firste compiled and


devised by Stephen Hawes gentleman, grome of the chamber to the famous Prynce and seconde Salomon, kynge Henrye the seventh. A man (as by his worckes appeareth) of a plesaunte wytte, and singuler learnynge, wherin thou shalt finde at one tyme, wisdome and learnyng, with myrthe and solace. So that herein thou mayest easelye fynde (as it were in pastyme) wythout offence of nature that thyng, and in short space, whiche many great clarkes wythout great paynes and travayle, and long continuaunce of time heretofore coulde never obteyne nor get, which as it was firste entituled by the Avcthoure, to be the Pastime of Plesure, and under the same title so dedicated to the sayed worthye Prynce, by the Aucthoure therof: so shalt thou good reader wyth deliberate readyng therof, fynde it not onely the Pastyme of Plesure, but also of profite.







Right mighty prince, and redoubted soverayn
Sayling forthe well, in the shyp of grace
Over the waves of this life uncertayne,
Ryght towarde heaven, to have dwellyng place
Grace dothe you guyde, in every

doubtfull case
Your governaunce, doth ever more eschewe
The synne of slouthe, enemy to vertue,

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