Book 9
And that my brother kisse me, layd on Herce to go to grave.
418
But my desyre the full consent of both of us dooth crave.
Admit the matter liketh me. He will for sin it take.
But yit the sonnes of Aeolus no scrupulousnesse did make
In going to theyr susters beds. And how come I to know
The feates of them? To what intent theis samples doo I show?
Ah whither am I headlong driven? avaunt foule filthy fyre:
And let mee not in otherwyse than susterlyke desyre
My brothers love. Yit if that he were first in love with mee,
His fondnesse to inclyne unto perchaunce I could agree.
Shall I therefore who would not have rejected him if hee
Had sude to mee, go sue to him? and canst thou speake in deede?
And canst thou utter forth thy mynd? and tell him of thy neede?
My love will make mee speake. I can. Or if that shame doo stay
My toong, a sealed letter shall my secret love bewray.
This likes her best. Uppon this poynt now restes her doubtful mynd.
518
So raysing up herself uppon her leftsyde shee enclynd,
And leaning on her elbow sayd: Let him advyse him what
To doo, for I my franticke love will utter playne and flat.
Alas to what ungraciousnesse intend I for to fall?
What furie raging in my hart my senses dooth appall?
In thinking so, with trembling hand shee framed her to wryght
The matter that her troubled mynd in musing did indyght.
Her ryght hand holdes the pen, her left dooth hold the empty wax.
She ginnes. Shee doutes, shee wryghtes: shee in the tables findeth lacks.
She notes, she blurres, dislikes, and likes: and chaungeth this for that.
Shee layes away the booke, and takes it up. Shee wotes not what
She would herself. What ever thing shee myndeth for to doo
Misliketh her. A shamefastnesse with boldenesse mixt thereto
Was in her countnance. Shee had once writ Suster: Out agen
The name of Suster for to raze shee thought it best. And then
She snatcht the tables up, and did theis following woords ingrave:
The health which if thou give her not shee is not like to have
Thy lover wisheth unto thee. I dare not ah for shame
I dare not tell thee who I am, nor let thee heare my name.
And if thou doo demaund of mee what thing I doo desyre,
Would God that namelesse I myght pleade the matter I requyre,
And that I were unknowen to thee by name of Byblis, till
Assurance of my sute were wrought according to my will.
As tokens of my wounded hart myght theis to thee appeere:
