His court to you, and do your will,
All other good he counts but ill.
He swears by God and good saint Foy,
That unto him the greatest joy13290
On earth would be to gain one smile
Or word from you, therefor exile
He’d count as nought though he should be
To Pavia sent all nakedly.
Reckless is he of all beside,
If only he may near you bide.
The Author.
Whence comes it?
Fair-Welcome straight desires to know
What kindly hand would fain bestow
On him the chaplet, for no will
Hath he to take the gift, until13300
He knows the quarter whither sent
Hath been this graceful compliment.
Forthwith the harridan reveals
The tale at full, nor aught conceals.
The Duenna.
’Tis from that youth, you know right well,
Of whom you oft have heard me tell,
And surely ’twas for his dear sake
That Evil-Tongue foul war did make
Against you—ah! vile child of vice!
He’s gone—but not to paradise.13310
Full many a man hath he defamed,
But now the fiends his soul have claimed.
His death from fear of slander frees
All men, none care for him two peas.
