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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A05208) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 9890) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 71:05) The: iiii: leues of the trueloue [16] p. In Flete strete at the sygne of the sonne, by wynkyn de worde, [Enprented at London : [1510?]] In verse. Printer's name and address from colophon; publication date conjectured by STC. With a title-page woodcut. Signatures: A-B⁴. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng eebo The: iiii: leues of the trueloue [no entry] 1510 18 4062 5 0 0 0 0 0 12.31 C The rate of 12.31 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the C category of texts with between 10 and 35 defects per 10,000 words. 2010-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2010-09 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2010-11 Sampled and proofread 2010-11 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2011-06 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

The .iiii. leues of the trueloue

woodcut

Holde this a token 〈◊〉

for your sake I shall it take

IN a mornyng of may whan medowes can sprynge . Braunches and blossomes of bryght colours As I wente by a well on my playenge Thorowe a mery orcharde sayenge myn oures Where byrdes full bysely began for to synge The bowes to borge on borde to the browes I was ware of a may that made mornynge She sate and syghed amonge the fayre floures so swete She made mournynge ynoughe Her wepynge dyd my herte woo To a derne I me droughe Her wyll for to knowe Stylly I stalked and stode in that stede To wytte of her wyll and of her wylde thought Then cast she her kercheffes the calle of hede Wronge she her handes and wrothly she wrought She sayd mylde mary ryght thou my rede Of all the welthe of the worlde wolde I nought But sende me some solase or sone I shall be dede A syghte of that selcath I haue it longe sought with care Then spake the turtyll on a tree With fayre wordes and free Bryght byrde of bewte Why syghest thou so sore O fayre foule spare not thy speche nor thy spell They kerpynge doth me comforte to herken and bere All my wyll and my thought wolde I the tell My wo and my wandrynge and thou wolde come nere Then he lyghted louely with her for to dwell To comforte the comly and euer her chere She blyssyd his body with boke and with bell And loued our lady that sente her that fere so fre Whan I was sory Besought I our lady And she sente me company Blessyd maye she be O fayre foule full of loue so mylde and swete To medle on a mater nowe we maye begynne Trueloue I haue sought fer by waye and bystrete In many fayre orchardes where floures be in , So ferre as I haue soughte sawe I none yet Full fewe I haue founde of more or ot myn Bryght byrde of ble my sorowe myght thou bete Wolde thou me wysshe wysely a trueloue to wynne with ryght For when I wene sonest To fynde loue best Then so feble is it fest. And fareth all on flyght The wytte of wymen is wonder to here Is all thy sory syghynge to seke a loue true All thy lyfe dayes may thou seke & neuer none be nere But yf thou had counsayle of one that I knewe Yf thou beset to seke trueloue I shall the lere Where it is spryngynge euermore newe Without ony fautynge full fayre and full clere Or castynge of coloures or chaungynge of hewe full y are I dare baldly saye Thre is no loue that lasteth aye Without treason or traye . But yf it begyn there Loke where thou fyndest growyng a truloue gresse That with .iiij. leues fully is set aboute The fyrst leaf we maye lyken to the kynge of blysse He that wrought all the worlde with in and without He made heuen with his hande and all paradyse And this mery mydell erthe without ony doubte All the welthe of the worlde holly is his In whome we ought to lyue & lowe for to loute full we le Holde we this in mynde Tyll we may these felawes fynde The true loue and kynde . That neuermore shall kele The seconde leaf of the trueloue I lyken to goddes sone That to the fyrst lefe is felawe and fere The thyrde to the holy goost togyder they wone All hole in a godhede and persones thre They be rulers of water sonne and of mone The fourth lefe of pryce without ony pere Whan the comly kynge is set in his trone Comly of colours and curteyse of chere with grace All this worlde he began And of wyndes and waters wan Then he marked man After his owne face Fyrst he made Adam and than he made Eue He put them in to paradyse in grete degre Forbyddynge nothynge to hym and his wyfe But a grene apple that dyde growe on a tre Than sory sathanas sought them belyfe To awake our wo cursed myght he be Then toke they the apple that styred moche stryfe The foule fende was glad that syght for to se for tene The fyrst leue was wo Whan floures fell hym fro That his frendes sholde to hell go For an apple grene Then began the fyrst lefe to mourne for vs all For his holy handy werke that was forlorne Gabryell to hym he dyde call Forth came he comly and kneled hym beforne He sayd to mylde mary on message thou shall To bere her gladde tydynges of her I wyll be borne Thus he sent his sone out of his hye halle To the mylde mayde on a mery morne and her gret Gabryell with the fayre face Sayd mary full of grace Pyerles in euery place With myrth thou arte met Thou salte conceyue a chylde comly and clere All the bale of the worlde in the it shall be let She sayd that were a meruayle & I a chylde sholde bere For I was neuer maryed with no man yet He sayd beholde to thy cosyn that hath conceyued to yere Elyzabeth in her age that longe hath ben led O lorde I am thy mayde sayd mary so dere And holy in thy seruyce is my herte set full styll Blyssed be the swete wyght That goddes sone in lyght Become man full of myght With the faders wyll Now is the seconde leaf for our loue moost Lyght in the lady that gabryell grete Without ony treason true for to tryst With myrthe in a mayde is god and man met This is the fader and the sonne and the holy goste Thre lefes of loue without ony lette The fourth is a mayde chosen for chaste Suche another truloue was neuer in londe sette for bote The fourth lefe maye neuer fall But euer they sprynge shall So gentely they Ioyne all On a ryche roote Now hathe the thyrde leaf a swete felowe taken For loue in lady is our lady lyght Ioseph her wedded and with her dyd gone In the cyte of bethelem there buylded the bryght Bytwene an oxe and an awe pryde was there none A blessyd chylde there was borne on crystmas nyght There rose a sterre stabely shewed and shone Thre kynge of colayne theron hadde a syght and sought They offered to hym as they wolde Myrre Rykyls and golde He thanked them many folde And to blysse he them brought Vnhappy Herode the tydynges herde tell That a chylde was borne that kynge sholde be He dyde make messagers and sende them full snell To slee all male chyldren in that countre They lefte none alyue but all dyd they kyll They spytted them on spere poyntes grete pyte was to se Ioseph with his wedded wyfe wolde no longer dwell But ledde her in to Egypte with her leues thre for to saue The chyldren coude theyr dethe take For the trueloue sake More myrthe they dyde make For hym selfe wolde they haue Yet wolde our lorde do more for his frendes dere For his holy handy werkes to helle wolde he gone To gyue ensample his lawe for to lere Saynt Iohan crystened hym in flome iordane For xxx . pens was he solde thorowe a false fere Vnto the Iewes that wolde hym haue slayne All he suffred for our sake and hymselfe was clere By a kysse was he knowen and sone was be taken also It was grete pyte for to se When he sholde blenke of his ble The seconde leaf of the thre The fourth was full woo Pylate was Iustyse and spake vp on hye For to deme Ihesu that Iudas hathe solde He sayd loke lordes trouthe for to trye The semly is fautles saye what they wolde The Iues on pylate began for to crye He calleth hymselfe a kyng suche bourdes be to bolde Yf thou wylte not deme hym to daye for to dye Loude before the emperoure the tale shall be tolde for drede A fury dome he gaue hym there And sayd that he coude saye no more I rede ye take hym there And forthe ye hym lede Alas for the fourthe leaf was lefte alone When her fayre felowshyp was taken and torne Beten wich sharpe scourges body and bone Syth spred on a crosse and crowned with thorne Thorowe his handes & fete herte nayles dyd gone A bryght spere to his herte sharpely was borne He shed his blode for our loue and lyfe leued hym none After and ayzell they gaue hym for scorne with gyle It was grete pyte for to se Whan he was nayled on a tre The seconde leaf sycurly Dyed for vs all The fourthe leaf of the loke alone she stode Wryngynge her handes and wepynge for woo With a mournynge chere and mylde mode Her sonnes coloure faded and wexed wonder blo Downe by his whyte sydes ran the redde blode Harde roches dyd ryue and temples in two Then swowned the fourth lefe and to the ground yode Alas for the trueloue that it sholde twyne so full yare She sawe her dere sonne dye Saynt Iohan stode her by 〈◊〉 comforte the lady That was cast in care Yet spake the noble kynge that was nayled on the tre To his moder so mylde that was mournyng that tyde And sayd leue thy wepyng woman mourne not for me Take Iohan too thy sone that wonneth the besyde Iohan take mary to thy moder for to myrthe the To kepe and to comforte your blysse for to byde The hote blode of his sydes caused longes to se That sought by a spere shafte fro his woundes wyde that daye It was grete pyte for to se Whan he was take of the tree The seconde leaf of the thre Was closed in clay Whan he was take of the rode and delued ful yare All the welthe of the worlde with the iij. leues laye The fourth for woo fell and syghed full sare With truth of the worlde was with the true maye Thoughe his manhede was dede his myght was the more On his holy handy werkes his herte was aye The soule with the god hede to hell dyde fare The body and the man hede dyd byde the iij. daye full y are All that he with his handes had wrought And sayth with his blode bought Tyll they were out of bale brought Hym longed full sare Than sayd sory sathanas his solowe was sadde For the syght of the selcuth he was nothynge fayne He sayd to vs cometh som bodworde I trowe it be bad What art thou with thy fayre face thus dyd hym frayne Kynge of Ioye is my name thy gestes to gladde Let me in for theyr loue thou sholde not layne He sayd wende awaye with thy myght thou makest vs all made What sholde thou do in this pythere is nothyng but payne Whan they herde the kynge spake All theyr gates they dyd shyt fast Sone the barres dyd breke And all the bandes braste For his holy handy werkes there harowed he hell All then brought out of bale that euer had ben his Dauyd his derlynge made myrthe them amonge With an herpe in his hande he harped I wysse All his retenue out coude he tell And of his grete mercy forgaue them theyr mysse He sayd I was solde for your sake and suffred woundes wyde And all my good chyldren be brought vnto blysse on the roode The sothe is not to layne Whan they were brought out of payne To the blyssed body agayne The holy goost yode The fourth lefe of the trueloue was folden for wo She was lefte mayde moder and wyfe The fyrste lefe full of myght his wyll was so By the assente of the thyrde leaf was there no stryfe They reysed vp the seconde bytwene them two Thorowe myght of the godhede from dethe vnto lyfe He toke a crosse in his hande and forthe he dyd go With his flesshe and his woundes fyfe he yode When he was rysen agayne He mette mary magdalayne It was no meruayle yf she was fayne He was her leche good Forth wente mari magdalayne with myrth and with mode She tolde the tydynges to T●omas of ynde How cryst was rysen agayne that shed his hert blode 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 this Thomas thou shalte it true fynde Then spake Thomas in stede there he stode Women be talkynge it cometh to them by kynde He wolde neuer byleue it tyll cryste to hym yode And apered to the apostles so clerkes hath in mynde He put his hande to his syde He blessed all that tyme That byleued on his woundes wyde And sawe they neuer with eye Forthe wente the semly the soth for to saye To seke his dyssyples that euer were true Sayth to our lady that he had loued ay All hole in his hurtes of hyde and of hewe She was euer stable and styll and fayled neuer faye The iiij . leues of troueloue they sprynge euer newe Our lorde assended into heuen on holy thursdaye Then folowed his moder with myrthes ynowe full euen Before her sone she kneled downe With a good deuocyon On her hede he set a crowne And made her quene of heuen The iiij . leaf of the trueloue blessed must she be She may haue Ioye in her herte of her gentyll chylde On his faders ryght hande her sone maye she se And the holy ghost that to them can bylde Now be they hole in one godhede & persones thre And she is mayde of myght and moder full mylde Suche a nother trueloue growed neuer on tre Who so trysteth on that trueloue shall not begyled so hende Wellis that wyght That maye besure of the syght Where euer is daye and euer lyght And Ioye without ende Thus hathe the fayre trueloue made vs all fre Our soules out of bondage & bought vs on the rode He commaunded vs to kepe and gaue pauste Our soules out of synne for ony worldes good Moche sorow wolde we haue & we our soules myght se When they be sonken in synne as rysshe in a flode Then abyde we in bondage in bale for to be He that vs boughte with his holy herte blode to haue blysse He bad axe mercy whan we maye And byd our lady for vs pray Or we be closed in claye Or elles of our myrthe shall we mysse Blessyd be the trueloue so meke and so mylde Sure and stedfast and stable in faye Whan we haue wrathed iij. with our werkes wylde The fourth lefe is gracyous and good vs to helpe aye Then kneleth she downe before her dere chylde Sore wepynge for our sake with her eyes graye She is euer full of grace alas we were begyled She wynneth with her wepynge many fayre praye for to kepe Syth she is welthe of our wele And all our care wolde kele Alas why make ye her to knele And for our werkes wepe There is none in this worlde so doughty nor so dere Kynge nor quene thoughe he were a crowne Nor no fayre ladyes of coloures so clere Whan dredfull dethe cometh it draweth all downe Yet lyst vs neuer leue it for preste nor for fryer Tyll we fele we fall with swelte and with swowne Whan the bare body is broughte on bere Than fayleth all felawshyp in felde and in towne In a clothe be we knyt Syth put in a pyt and erth vpon vs done Of all the worlde be we quyt Forgoten be we soone For the caytyf corse there is but lytell care & we were sure of our soules where they sholde dwell But nowe is nowe in this worlde so wyse his of lare Nor no clerke in comynge that therof can tell How ferre and how fele our soules must fare Hardwayes is to heuen and hasty to hell In purgatory is grete payne who so cometh there Of moche wo shall they wyt that therin shall dwell so longe What so euer we do here we fare Before vs shall we fynde there We maye be sure of no more When paynes be full stronge When grete fyers grym be made in our gate Then is there no glosynge but it must we glyde When we be put in the payne so harde and so hote We seke after socoure on euery syde We crye after kynne folke they come to vs to late Then he haue felte the fyer faysed is our pryde Then of all our sorowe no sertayne we wate But truste on the trueloue his mercy to abyde with drede Now is tyme to begynne The trueloue to wynne That all our bales he maye blyn Whan he haue moost nede Of all the dayes that we haue lyued ones shall we knowe Whan we remember our foule synnes sore may we mone Whan the grete lorde aboue his bemes shall blowe And hye Iustyse shall syt in his trone And all the folke in the worlde shall ryse on a rowe The quycke maye quake whan the dede shall vp ryse We may lette for no shame our synnes to showe There is no golde nor fee that may make our maynpryse and kynne For then is all our pryde gone Our robes and our ryche pane Saue a crysome alone That we were crystened in When we be called to the courte vs be houeth to here All shall be there sene bonde men and free The soule and the body that longe hath sen sere Be houeth to be present at the semble Euery soule shall be sende to seke after his fere Whan cryste well vs gather a grete lorde is he With our flesshe and our fell as we in worlde were Neuer more to sonder after that daye be for to knowe Our werkes be wryten and scorde In a rolle of recorde Before the grete lorde Full sharply to showe We must seke thyder in a symple tyer Tremblynge and quakynge as lefe on a tree Whan all the worlde is set with water and fyer There is no wrenche nor no wyll wyll wysshe vs to fle When cryste is greued he is a grym syer So many synfull wretches as he there shall see Then dare not his moder yf she wolde desyre Not speke to her son so dredfull is he that daye All to sayntes in heuen They shall be styll of theyr steuen They dare not a worde meuen For no man to praye The werckes of mercy he wyll reken them seuen When I was thrusty how hardly haue ye me fedde When I was thrusty how hardly haue ye me gyuen When I was naked how haue ye me cledde When I was housles harbowred ye me euen Or vysyte me in syknes or sought to my bedde Or comforted me in pryson that worde I here meuen Or brought me to buryeng when deth hath me sted they saye Or lorde when sawe we the Euer in ony suche degree He sayd the leest in the name of me That thou myght praye He wyll shewe vs his woundes blody and bare All he suffred for our sake bytter and wyde Kynges and quenes before hym must fare Bysshoppes and barons all must abyde Erles and Emperoures none wyll he spare Prestes nor prelates or persones of pryde Iustyse and Iuges of lawe and of lere That now be full ryall to rynne and to ryde in londe Theyr dome shall they take there Ryght as they haue demed here When they were of myght more And domes had in hande Ryche ladyes that hathe robes full yare Ryches and rubyes with gownes full wyde Bendes and myrroures and fyllettes full fayre Golde on theyr garlondes with perre and pryde Kalle and kercheffes that coucheth on theyr heyre So sharply and shynynge to shewe by theyr syde All that welthe is awaye and myrth moche more But yf we wyn the truloue vnglad maye we glyde for sorowe Betyme is best to begyn Or were sonken in synne For then is nother kyth nor kynne Fro bale may vs borowe By lordes and ladyes all I wyll not saye But some thynge by other folkes that I fynde full wele The galande gedlynge that kythis gentry With daynty damoyselles no man may dele They haue purfels and perles and heddes full hye Thoughe her corse be the myddle of her kattell Yf men talke of her kynne awaye wyll she wrye Her fader and moder fayre wolde she hyll and tyde When that daye shall begyn No man shall shame with theyr kynne All shall shame with theyr synne And with theyr foule pryde The dome of the trueloue full sore maye we drede For then is all the tyme past of mercy to craue When euery man is demed after his owne dede Then may not our selfe sterte & sende forthe our knaue For he rekeneth by reason so clerkes can rede He setteth on his ryght hande the soules that he wyll saue The synfull wretches that maye not spede Shall stande on his lefte hande awaye for to haue for aye Then wyll our lady wepe sore For sorowe that she shall se there Whan she maye helpe no more Grete mournynge shall be that daye Now is tyme for to speke for them that wyll spede And seke after socoure and foly to flee And not on domes daye whan we haue moost nede Now is moche mercy and then wyll none be When our dere lady dare not for drede Speke to her dere sone so dredfull is he How maye we axe mercy for our mysdede That wyll not folowe to it whan it is fre thore There is no waye but ij . Wheder that we shall go To wele and to woo To dwell for euermore Thus the bryght byrde taught the true maye And she blessyd his body his bone and his blode To the fourthe leaf I rede that we praye That she wolde our message do with a mylde mode And speke for the loue before the last daye To the thyrde leaf gracyous and good The loue of the iiij . leues that we wynne maye That grace graunt grete god that dyed on the rod . walkynge This I herde in a valaye As I wente on my waye In a mournynge of maye Whan medowes can sprynge

Enprented at London in Flete strete at the sygne of the sonne / by wynkyn de worde .

printer's device of Wynkyn de Worde Wynkyn de Worde