"What lady, Man?" faid Trompart; "take "good hart,
"And tell thy griefe, if any hidden lye;
"Was never better time to fhew thy fmart
"Then now, that noble fuccor is thee by,
"That is the whole world's commune remedy."
That chearful word his weak heart much did
cheare,
And with vaine hope his fpirits faint supply,
That bold he fayd, "O moft redoubted pere!
Vouchsafe, with mild regard, a wretches cace
to heare."
"Perdy nay," faid Malbecco, fhall ye not, "But let him paffe as lightly as he came; "For litle good of him is to be got, "And mickle perill to bee put to fhame: "But let us goe to feeke my deareft dame, "Whom he hath left in youder forest wyld, "For of her fafety in great doubt I ame, "Leaft falvage beaftes her perfon have defpy, "Then all the world is loft, and we in vaine have "toyld."
My lord and I will fearch the wide foreft." That counici preafed not Malbeccoes mynd, For he was much afraid himfelfe alone to fynd.
"Then is it beft," faid he, " that ye doc leave "Your treafure here in fome fecurity,
At night, when all they went to fleepe, he vowd
Whereas his lovely wife emongst them lay,
Embraced of a Satyre rough and rude,
Who all the night did minde his ioyous play:
Nine times he heard him come aloft ere day,
That all his heart with gealofy did fwell;
But yet that night's enfample did bewray
That not for nought his wife then loyd fo well.
When one so oft a night did ring his matins beil.
So closely as he could he to them crept,
When wearie of their fporte to fleepe they fell,
And to his wife, that now full foundly flept,
He whispered in her care, and did her tell,
That it was he which by her fide did dwell,
And therefore prayd her wake to heare him
plaine.
As one out of a dreame not waked well,
She turnd her, and returned backe againe;
Yet her for to awake he did the more copftraine.
At laft with irkefom trouble fhe abrayd;
And then perceiving that it was indeed
Her old Malbecco which did her upbrayd
With loofeneffe of her love and loathly deed,
She was aftonifht with exceeding dreed,
And would have wakt the Satyre by her fyde;
But he her prayd for mercy or for meed
To fave his life, ne let him be deferyde,
But hearken to his lore, and all his counfell hyde
Tho
gan he her perfwade to leave that lewd
And loathfom life, of God and man abhord,
And home retourne, where all should be renewd
With perfect peace, and bandes of fresh accord,
And the receivd againe to bed and bord,
As if not trefpas ever had beene donne;
But the it all refufed at one word,
And by no meanes would to his will be wonne,
But chofe emongst the iolly Satyres ftill to wonne.
He wooed her till day-spring he efpyde,
But all in vaine; and then turnd to the heard,
Who butted him with hornes on every fyde,
And trade downe in the durt, where his hore
beard
Was fowly dight, and he of death afeard,
Early before the heavens faireft light.
Out of the ruddy eaft was fully reard,
The heardes out of their foldes were loofed quight,
And he emongst the rcft crept forth in fory
plight.
So foone as he the prifon dore did pas,
He ran as faft as both his feet could beare,
And never looked who behind him was,
Ne fcarfely who before; like as a beare,
That creeping close emongst the hives to rearg
An honey-combe, the wakefull dogs cfpy,
And him affayling, fore his carkas teare,
That hardly he with life away does fly,
Ne ftayes till fafe himselfe he fee from icopardy.
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