Book 14
May easly bow thy hardned hart and make it for to yild.
609
One Iphis borne of lowe degree by fortune had behild
698
The Ladye Anaxarete descended of the race
Of Tewcer, and in vewwing her the fyre of love apace
Did spred it self through all his bones. With which he stryving long,
When reason could not conquer rage bycause it was too strong,
Came humbly to the Ladyes house: and one whyle laying ope
His wretched love before her nurce, besought her by the hope
Of Lady Anaxarete her nurcechylds good successe,
Shee would not bee ageinst him in that cace of his distresse.
Another whyle entreating fayre sum freend of hers, he prayd
Him earnestly with carefull voyce, of furthrance and of ayd.
Oftymes he did preferre his sute by gentle letters sent.
Oft garlonds moysted with the deawe of teares that from him went
He hanged on her postes. Oft tymes his tender sydes he layd
Ageinst the threshold hard, and oft in sadnesse did upbrayd
The locke with much ungentlenesse. The Lady crueller
Than are the rysing narrowe seas, or falling Kiddes, and farre
More hard than steele of Noricum, and than the stonny rocke
That in the quarrye hath his roote, did him despyse and mock.
Besyde her dooings mercylesse, of statelynesse and spyght
Shee adding prowd and skornefull woordes, defrauds the wretched wyght
Of verry hope. But Iphis now unable any more
To beare the torment of his greef, still standing there before
Her gate, spake theis his latest woordes: Well, Anaxarete,
Thou hast the upper hand. Hencefoorth thou shalt not neede to bee
Agreeved any more with mee. Go tryumph hardely:
Go vaunt thy self with joy: go sing the song of victorye:
Go put a crowne of glittring bay uppon thy cruell head.
For why thou hast the upper hand, and I am gladly dead.
Well, steely harted, well: rejoyce. Compeld yit shalt thou bee
Of sumwhat in mee for to have a lyking. Thou shalt see
A poynt wherein thou mayst mee deeme most thankfull unto thee,
And in the end thou shalt confesse the great desert of mee.
But yit remember that as long as lyfe in mee dooth last,
The care of thee shall never from this hart of myne be cast.
For bothe the lyfe that I doo live in hope of thee, and tother
Which nature giveth, shall have end and passe away toogither.
The tydings neyther of my death shall come to thee by fame.
Myself (I doo assure thee) will bee bringer of the same.
