A Dyalogue Defensyue For Women Poem by Robert Vaughan

To you maystres Arthur, my seruyce premysed
As reason of ryght, requyreth to recompence
Your gentle herte, whiche hath nat despysed
Afore this tyme, to take with beneuolence
My wrytynges vnworthye, full of vayne sentence
Whiche kyndnes consydered, good cause doth constrayne
And dewty me dryueth, to do my dylygence
With some small gyfte, for to requyte agayne.
Your bownteous benygnytie, imboldeth my rudenes
This treatyse folowynge, vnto you to dedycate
Whiche to myne handes, occurryde doubtles
As I on my Iourney, was rydynge but late
By a frende of myne, with whom I was assocyate
As by chaunce I alyghted, at a certayne place
Whiche wylled me than, that I wolde algate
Go forth and talke with hym, a lytell space.
Than secretly, he dyd vnto me comyt
Agaynst detraction, this dyalogue defensyue
For the woman sakes, both necessary and fyt
Whan preuye reprehendeth, agaynst them lyst to stryue
Of whose vyce the circumstaunce, he playnely doth dyscryue
That throughe auaryce, the syn insacyable
Detractours swarme, as bees aboute an hyue
Where felonous flatery, to them is profytable.
I toke the volume, aud rede therin apase
And well perceyued at the fyrste syght
It was fayned in fauour of one in your case
Howebeit I wolde nat aske hym, what she hyght
But vnto hym, I sayde anone full ryght
what is your mynde, that I herin do shall
For fayne I wolde, yf it lay in my myght
Your mynde accomplysshe, what soeuer befall.
I wolde sayde he, yf it your pleasure were
That you wolde vouchsaue, at my hande to take
This lytell smale volume, your name for to bere
whose fantasye with faynynge, is set for to make
Lest slaunder perchaunce, his sharpe sowne out shake
To moue me malyce, whiche onely meane test
Your name may cause, suche noyses to asslake
Therfore present it, where as you thynke best.
Than in my mynde, I thought that you were
Your cause consydered, and also your estate
Moste worthy to whom, I myght sende or bere
It to present, or els to dedycate
And because it declareth, howe the Pyes do prate
And what them causeth, suche pratynge to vse
I trust in God, it shall your mynde recreate
Throughe to rede it, yf you wyll nat refuse.
And of your thankes, to me I requyre
No parte at all, sens myne is nat the payne
But of your gentylnes, I humbly you desyre
That he may haue thankes, that labours doth sustayne
And as to my selfe, no thanke I wyll clayme
Sens thanke to payne, is euer consequent
Yet natwithstandynge, whyle lyfe doth remayne
Myne herte and seruyce, shall be at your comaundement.
This Dyalogue, as Dyamonde derely dyght
And as a (weke) moste worthely wrought
Shynynge with eloquence, as starre doth of lyght
Me thynkes that you, of reason moste ought
As she that with payne, experyence hath bought
Haue in your custodye, as answere for your cause
As the free Fawcon, hath you herin taught
Your selfe to defende, agaynst pyes and dawse.