THE

CANTERBURY TALES

AND OTHER POEMS

BY

GEOFFREY CHAUCER

[14TH CENT.]

The Canterbury Tales and Other Poems By Geoffrey Chaucer.

This edition was created and published by Global Grey

©GlobalGrey 2018

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CONTENTS

THE CANTERBURY TALES

General Prologue

The Knight's Tale

The Miller's Prologue

The Miller's Tale

The Reeve's Prologue

The Reeve's Tale

The Cook's Prologue

The Cook's Tale

The Man Of Law's Introduction And Prologue

The Man Of Law's Tale

The Man Of Law's Epilogue

The Wife Of Bath's Prologue

The Wife Of Bath's Tale

The Friar's Prologue

The Friar's Tale

The Summoner's Prologue

The Summoner's Tale

The Clerk's Prologue

The Clerk's Tale

The Merchant's Prologue

The Merchant's Tale

The Merchant's Epilogue

The Squire's Introduction

The Squire's Tale

The Franklin's Prologue

The Franklin's Tale

The Physician's Tale

The Pardoner's Introduction And Prologue

The Pardoner's Tale

The Shipman's Tale

The Prioress' Prologue

The Prioress' Tale

The Prologue To The Tale Of Sir Thopas

The Tale Of Sir Thopas

The Tale Of Melibee

The Monk's Prologue

The Monk's Tale

The Nun's Priest's Prologue

The Nun's Priest's Tale

The Nun's Priest's Epilogue

The Second Nun's Prologue

The Second Nun's Tale

The Canon's Yeoman's Prologue

The Canon's Yeoman's Tale

The Manciple's Prologue

The Manciple's Tale

The Parson's Prologue

The Parson's Tale

Chaucer's Retraction

OTHER WORKS

The Book Of The Duchess

The House Of Fame

Anelida And Arcite

The Parliament Of Fowls

BOECE

Book 1

Book 2

Book 3

Book 4

Book 5

TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

Book 1

Book 2

Book 3

Book 4

Book 5

THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN

Prologue F

Prologue G

The Legends

THE SHORTER POEMS

An ABC

The Complaint Unto Pity

A Complaint To His Lady

The Complaint Of Mars

The Complaint Of Venus

To Rosemounde

Womanly Noblesse

Chaucers Wordes Unto Adam, His Owne Scriveyn

The Former Age

Fortune

Truth

Gentilesse

Lak Of Stedfastnesse

Lenvoy De Chaucer A Scogan

Lenvoy De Chaucer A Bukton

The Complaint Of Chaucer To His Purse

Proverbs

Against Women Unconstant

Complaynt D'amours

Merciles Beaute

A Balade Of Complaint

A TREATISE ON THE ASTROLABE

Part 1

Part 2

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Fragment A

Fragment B

Fragment C

THE CANTERBURY TALES

GENERAL PROLOGUE

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licour

Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his half cours yronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

10 That slepen al the nyght with open ye

(So priketh hem Nature in hir corages),

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages,

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

And specially from every shires ende

Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blisful martir for to seke,

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.

Bifil that in that seson on a day,

20 In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay

Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage

To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,

At nyght was come into that hostelrye

Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye

Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle

In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,

That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde.

The chambres and the stables weren wyde,

And wel we weren esed atte beste.

30 And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste,

So hadde I spoken with hem everichon

That I was of hir felaweshipe anon,

And made forward erly for to ryse,

To take oure wey ther as I yow devyse.

But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space,

Er that I ferther in this tale pace,

Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun

To telle yow al the condicioun

Of ech of hem, so as it semed me,

40 And whiche they weren, and of what degree,

And eek in what array that they were inne;

And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne.

A KNYGHT ther was, and that a worthy man,

That fro the tyme that he first bigan

To riden out, he loved chivalrie,

Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie.

Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre,

And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre,

As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse,

50 And evere honoured for his worthynesse;

At Alisaundre he was whan it was wonne.

Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonne

Aboven alle nacions in Pruce;

In Lettow hadde he reysed and in Ruce,

No Cristen man so ofte of his degree.

In Gernade at the seege eek hadde he be

Of Algezir, and riden in Belmarye.

At Lyeys was he and at Satalye,

Whan they were wonne, and in the Grete See

60 At many a noble armee hadde he be.

At mortal batailles hadde he been fiftene,

And foughten for oure feith at Tramyssene

In lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo.

This ilke worthy knyght hadde been also

Somtyme with the lord of Palatye

Agayn another hethen in Turkye;

And everemoore he hadde a sovereyn prys.

And though that he were worthy, he was wys,

And of his port as meeke as is a mayde.

70 He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde

In al his lyf unto no maner wight.

He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght.

But for to tellen yow of his array,

His hors were goode, but he was nat gay.

Of fustian he wered a gypon

Al bismotered with his habergeon,

For he was late ycome from his viage,

And wente for to doon his pilgrymage.

With hym ther was his sone, a yong SQUIER,

80 A lovyere and a lusty bacheler,

With lokkes crulle as they were leyd in presse.

Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.

Of his stature he was of evene lengthe,

And wonderly delyvere, and of greet strengthe.

And he hadde been somtyme in chyvachie

In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Pycardie,

And born hym weel, as of so litel space,

In hope to stonden in his lady grace.

Embrouded was he, as it were a meede

90 Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and reede.

Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day;

He was as fressh as is the month of May.

Short was his gowne, with sleves longe and wyde.

Wel koude he sitte on hors and faire ryde.

He koude songes make and wel endite,

Juste and eek daunce, and weel purtreye and write.

So hoote he lovede that by nyghtertale

He sleep namoore than dooth a nyghtyngale.

Curteis he was, lowely, and servysable,

100 And carf biforn his fader at the table.

A YEMAN hadde he and servantz namo

At that tyme, for hym liste ride so,

And he was clad in cote and hood of grene.

A sheef of pecok arwes, bright and kene,

Under his belt he bar ful thriftily

(Wel koude he dresse his takel yemanly;

His arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe),

And in his hand he baar a myghty bowe.

A not heed hadde he, with a broun visage.

110 Of wodecraft wel koude he al the usage.

Upon his arm he baar a gay bracer,

And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler,

And on that oother syde a gay daggere

Harneised wel and sharp as point of spere;

A Cristopher on his brest of silver sheene.

An horn he bar, the bawdryk was of grene;

A forster was he, soothly, as I gesse.

Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE,

That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy;

120 Hire gretteste ooth was but by Seinte Loy;

And she was cleped madame Eglentyne.

Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne,

Entuned in hir nose ful semely;

And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly,

After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,

For Frenssh of Parys was to hire unknowe.

At mete wel ytaught was she with alle;

She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle,

Ne wette hir fyngres in hir sauce depe;

130 Wel koude she carie a morsel and wel kepe

That no drope ne fille upon hire brest.

In curteisie was set ful muchel hir lest.

Hir over-lippe wyped she so clene

That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene

Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte.

Ful semely after hir mete she raughte.

And sikerly she was of greet desport,

And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,

And peyned hire to countrefete cheere

140 Of court, and to been estatlich of manere,

And to ben holden digne of reverence.

But for to speken of hire conscience,

She was so charitable and so pitous

She wolde wepe, if that she saugh a mous

Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.

Of smale houndes hadde she that she fedde

With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed.

But soore wepte she if oon of hem were deed,

Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte;

150 And al was conscience and tendre herte.

Ful semyly hir wympul pynched was,

Hir nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas,

Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed.

But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed;

It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe;

For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe.

Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.

Of smal coral aboute hire arm she bar

A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene,

160 And theron heng a brooch of gold ful sheene,

On which ther was first write a crowned A,

And after Amor vincit omnia.

Another NONNE with hire hadde she,

That was hir chapeleyne, and preestes thre.

A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistrie,

An outridere, that lovede venerie,

A manly man, to been an abbot able.

Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable,

And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heere

170 Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere

And eek as loude as dooth the chapel belle

Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle.

The reule of Seint Maure or of Seint Beneit --

By cause that it was old and somdel streit

This ilke Monk leet olde thynges pace,

And heeld after the newe world the space.

He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen,

That seith that hunters ben nat hooly men,

Ne that a monk, whan he is recchelees,

180 Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees --

This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre.

But thilke text heeld he nat worth an oystre;

And I seyde his opinion was good.

What sholde he studie and make hymselven wood,

Upon a book in cloystre alwey to poure,

Or swynken with his handes, and laboure,

As Austyn bit? How shal the world be served?

Lat Austyn have his swynk to hym reserved!

Therfore he was a prikasour aright:

190 Grehoundes he hadde as swift as fowel in flight;

Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare

Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.

I seigh his sleves purfiled at the hond

With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond;

And for to festne his hood under his chyn,

He hadde of gold ywroght a ful curious pyn;

A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was.

His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas,

And eek his face, as he hadde been enoynt.

200 He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt;

His eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed,

That stemed as a forneys of a leed;

His bootes souple, his hors in greet estaat.

Now certeinly he was a fair prelaat;

He was nat pale as a forpyned goost.

A fat swan loved he best of any roost.

His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.

A FRERE ther was, a wantowne and a merye,

A lymytour, a ful solempne man.

210 In alle the ordres foure is noon that kan

So muchel of daliaunce and fair langage.

He hadde maad ful many a mariage

Of yonge wommen at his owene cost.

Unto his ordre he was a noble post.

Ful wel biloved and famulier was he

With frankeleyns over al in his contree,

And eek with worthy wommen of the toun;

For he hadde power of confessioun,

As seyde hymself, moore than a curat,

220 For of his ordre he was licenciat.

Ful swetely herde he confessioun,

And plesaunt was his absolucioun:

He was an esy man to yeve penaunce,

Ther as he wiste to have a good pitaunce.

For unto a povre ordre for to yive

Is signe that a man is wel yshryve;

For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt,

He wiste that a man was repentaunt;

For many a man so hard is of his herte,

230 He may nat wepe, althogh hym soore smerte.

Therfore in stede of wepynge and preyeres

Men moote yeve silver to the povre freres.

His typet was ay farsed ful of knyves

And pynnes, for to yeven faire wyves.

And certeinly he hadde a murye note:

Wel koude he synge and pleyen on a rote;

Of yeddynges he baar outrely the pris.

His nekke whit was as the flour-de-lys;

Therto he strong was as a champioun.

240 He knew the tavernes wel in every toun

And everich hostiler and tappestere

Bet than a lazar or a beggestere,

For unto swich a worthy man as he

Acorded nat, as by his facultee,

To have with sike lazars aqueyntaunce.

It is nat honest; it may nat avaunce,

For to deelen with no swich poraille,

But al with riche and selleres of vitaille.

And over al, ther as profit sholde arise,

250 Curteis he was and lowely of servyse;

Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous.

He was the beste beggere in his hous;

[And yaf a certeyn ferme for the graunt;

Noon of his bretheren cam ther in his haunt;]

For thogh a wydwe hadde noght a sho,

So plesaunt was his "In principio,"

Yet wolde he have a ferthyng, er he wente.

His purchas was wel bettre than his rente.

And rage he koude, as it were right a whelp.

In love-dayes ther koude he muchel help,

For ther he was nat lyk a cloysterer

260 With a thredbare cope, as is a povre scoler,

But he was lyk a maister or a pope.

Of double worstede was his semycope,

That rounded as a belle out of the presse.

Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantownesse,

To make his Englissh sweete upon his tonge;

And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde songe,

His eyen twynkled in his heed aryght

As doon the sterres in the frosty nyght.

This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.

270 A MARCHANT was ther with a forked berd,

In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat;

Upon his heed a Flaundryssh bever hat,

His bootes clasped faire and fetisly.

His resons he spak ful solempnely,

Sownynge alwey th' encrees of his wynnyng.

He wolde the see were kept for any thyng

Bitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle.

Wel koude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle.

This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette:

280 Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette,

So estatly was he of his governaunce

With his bargaynes and with his chevyssaunce.

For sothe he was a worthy man with alle,

But, sooth to seyn, I noot how men hym calle.

A CLERK ther was of Oxenford also,

That unto logyk hadde longe ygo.

As leene was his hors as is a rake,

And he nas nat right fat, I undertake,

But looked holwe, and therto sobrely.

290 Ful thredbare was his overeste courtepy,

For he hadde geten hym yet no benefice,

Ne was so worldly for to have office.

For hym was levere have at his beddes heed

Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed,

Of Aristotle and his philosophie

Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie.

But al be that he was a philosophre,

Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre;

But al that he myghte of his freendes hente,

300 On bookes and on lernynge he it spente,

And bisily gan for the soules preye

Of hem that yaf hym wherwith to scoleye.

Of studie took he moost cure and moost heede.

Noght o word spak he moore than was neede,

And that was seyd in forme and reverence,

And short and quyk and ful of hy sentence;

Sownynge in moral vertu was his speche,

And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche.

A SERGEANT OF THE LAWE, war and wys,

310 That often hadde been at the Parvys,

Ther was also, ful riche of excellence.

Discreet he was and of greet reverence --

He semed swich, his wordes weren so wise.

Justice he was ful often in assise,

By patente and by pleyn commissioun.

For his science and for his heigh renoun,

Of fees and robes hadde he many oon.

So greet a purchasour was nowher noon:

Al was fee symple to hym in effect;

320 His purchasyng myghte nat been infect.

Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas,

And yet he semed bisier than he was.

In termes hadde he caas and doomes alle

That from the tyme of kyng William were falle.

Therto he koude endite and make a thyng,

Ther koude no wight pynche at his writyng;

And every statut koude he pleyn by rote.

He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote,

Girt with a ceint of silk, with barres smale;

330 Of his array telle I no lenger tale.

A FRANKELEYN was in his compaignye.

Whit was his berd as is the dayesye;

Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.

Wel loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn;

To lyven in delit was evere his wone,

For he was Epicurus owene sone,

That heeld opinioun that pleyn delit

Was verray felicitee parfit.

An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;

340 Seint Julian he was in his contree.

His breed, his ale, was alweys after oon;

A bettre envyned man was nowher noon.

Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous,

Of fissh and flessh, and that so plentevous

It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke;

Of alle deyntees that men koude thynke,

After the sondry sesons of the yeer,

So chaunged he his mete and his soper.

Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muwe,

350 And many a breem and many a luce in stuwe.

Wo was his cook but if his sauce were

Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his geere.

His table dormant in his halle alway

Stood redy covered al the longe day.

At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire;

Ful ofte tyme he was knyght of the shire.

An anlaas and a gipser al of silk

Heeng at his girdel, whit as morne milk.

A shirreve hadde he been, and a contour.

360 Was nowher swich a worthy vavasour.

AN HABERDASSHERE and a CARPENTER,

A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPYCER --

And they were clothed alle in o lyveree

Of a solempne and a greet fraternitee.

Ful fressh and newe hir geere apiked was;

Hir knyves were chaped noght with bras

But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel,

Hire girdles and hir pouches everydeel.

Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys

370 To sitten in a yeldehalle on a deys.

Everich, for the wisdom that he kan,

Was shaply for to been an alderman.

For catel hadde they ynogh and rente,

And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente;

And elles certeyn were they to blame.

It is ful fair to been ycleped "madame,"

And goon to vigilies al bifore,

And have a mantel roialliche ybore.

A COOK they hadde with hem for the nones

380 To boille the chiknes with the marybones,

And poudre-marchant tart and galyngale.

Wel koude he knowe a draughte of Londoun ale.

He koude rooste, and sethe, and broille, and frye,

Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye.

But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me,

That on his shyne a mormal hadde he.

For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.

A SHIPMAN was ther, wonynge fer by weste;

For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe.

390 He rood upon a rouncy, as he kouthe,

In a gowne of faldyng to the knee.

A daggere hangynge on a laas hadde he

Aboute his nekke, under his arm adoun.

The hoote somer hadde maad his hewe al broun;

And certeinly he was a good felawe.

Ful many a draughte of wyn had he ydrawe

Fro Burdeux-ward, whil that the chapman sleep.

Of nyce conscience took he no keep.

If that he faught and hadde the hyer hond,

400 By water he sente hem hoom to every lond.

But of his craft to rekene wel his tydes,

His stremes, and his daungers hym bisides,

His herberwe, and his moone, his lodemenage,

Ther nas noon swich from Hulle to Cartage.

Hardy he was and wys to undertake;

With many a tempest hadde his berd been shake.

He knew alle the havenes, as they were,

Fro Gootlond to the cape of Fynystere,

And every cryke in Britaigne and in Spayne.

410 His barge ycleped was the Maudelayne.

With us ther was a DOCTOUR OF PHISIK;

In al this world ne was ther noon hym lik,

To speke of phisik and of surgerye,

For he was grounded in astronomye.

He kepte his pacient a ful greet deel

In houres by his magyk natureel.

Wel koude he fortunen the ascendent

Of his ymages for his pacient.

He knew the cause of everich maladye,

420 Were it of hoot, or coold, or moyste, or drye,

And where they engendred, and of what humour.

He was a verray, parfit praktisour:

The cause yknowe, and of his harm the roote,

Anon he yaf the sike man his boote.

Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries

To sende hym drogges and his letuaries,

For ech of hem made oother for to wynne --

Hir frendshipe nas nat newe to bigynne.

Wel knew he the olde Esculapius,

430 And Deyscorides, and eek Rufus,

Olde Ypocras, Haly, and Galyen,

Serapion, Razis, and Avycen,

Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn,

Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn.

Of his diete mesurable was he,

For it was of no superfluitee,

But of greet norissyng and digestible.

His studie was but litel on the Bible.

In sangwyn and in pers he clad was al,

440 Lyned with taffata and with sendal.

And yet he was but esy of dispence;

He kepte that he wan in pestilence.

For gold in phisik is a cordial,

Therefore he lovede gold in special.

A good WIF was ther OF biside BATHE,

But she was somdel deef, and that was scathe.

Of clooth-makyng she hadde swich an haunt

She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt.

In al the parisshe wif ne was ther noon

450 That to the offrynge bifore hire sholde goon;

And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she

That she was out of alle charitee.

Hir coverchiefs ful fyne weren of ground;

I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound

That on a Sonday weren upon hir heed.

Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed,

Ful streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and newe.

Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe.

She was a worthy womman al hir lyve:

460 Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve,

Withouten oother compaignye in youthe --

But thereof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe.

And thries hadde she been at Jerusalem;

She hadde passed many a straunge strem;

At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne,

In Galice at Seint-Jame, and at Coloigne.

She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye.

Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye.

Upon an amblere esily she sat,

470 Ywympled wel, and on hir heed an hat

As brood as is a bokeler or a targe;

A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large,

And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe.

In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carpe.

Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce,

For she koude of that art the olde daunce.

A good man was ther of religioun,

And was a povre PERSOUN OF A TOUN,

But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk.

480 He was also a lerned man, a clerk,

That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche;

His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche.

Benygne he was, and wonder diligent,

And in adversitee ful pacient,

And swich he was ypreved ofte sithes.

Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes,

But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute,

Unto his povre parisshens aboute

Of his offryng and eek of his substaunce.

490 He koude in litel thyng have suffisaunce.

Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder,

But he ne lefte nat, for reyn ne thonder,

In siknesse nor in meschief to visite

The ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lite,

Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf.

This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf,

That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte.

Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte,

And this figure he added eek therto,

500 That if gold ruste, what shal iren do?

For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste,

No wonder is a lewed man to ruste;

And shame it is, if a prest take keep,

A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep.

Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive,

By his clennesse, how that his sheep sholde lyve.

He sette nat his benefice to hyre

And leet his sheep encombred in the myre

And ran to Londoun unto Seinte Poules

510 To seken hym a chaunterie for soules,

Or with a bretherhed to been withholde;

But dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde,

So that the wolf ne made it nat myscarie;

He was a shepherde and noght a mercenarie.

And though he hooly were and vertuous,

He was to synful men nat despitous,

Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne,

But in his techyng discreet and benygne.

To drawen folk to hevene by fairnesse,

520 By good ensample, this was his bisynesse.

But it were any persone obstinat,

What so he were, of heigh or lough estat,

Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys.

A bettre preest I trowe that nowher noon ys.

He waited after no pompe and reverence,

Ne maked him a spiced conscience,

But Cristes loore and his apostles twelve

He taughte; but first he folwed it hymselve.

With hym ther was a PLOWMAN, was his brother,

530 That hadde ylad of dong ful many a fother;

A trewe swynkere and a good was he,

Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee.

God loved he best with al his hoole herte

At alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte,

And thanne his neighebor right as hymselve.

He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve,

For Cristes sake, for every povre wight,

Withouten hire, if it lay in his myght.

His tithes payde he ful faire and wel,

540 Bothe of his propre swynk and his catel.

In a tabard he rood upon a mere.

Ther was also a REVE, and a MILLERE,

A SOMNOUR, and a PARDONER also,

A MAUNCIPLE, and myself -- ther were namo.

The MILLERE was a stout carl for the nones;

Ful byg he was of brawn, and eek of bones.

That proved wel, for over al ther he cam,

At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram.

He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre;

550 Ther was no dore that he nolde heve of harre,

Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed.

His berd as any sowe or fox was reed,

And therto brood, as though it were a spade.

Upon the cop right of his nose he hade

A werte, and theron stood a toft of herys,

Reed as the brustles of a sowes erys;

His nosethirles blake were and wyde.

A swerd and a bokeler bar he by his syde.

His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys.

560 He was a janglere and a goliardeys,

And that was moost of synne and harlotries.

Wel koude he stelen corn and tollen thries;

And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee.

A whit cote and a blew hood wered he.

A baggepipe wel koude he blowe and sowne,

And therwithal he broghte us out of towne.

A gentil MAUNCIPLE was ther of a temple,

Of which achatours myghte take exemple

For to be wise in byynge of vitaille;

570 For wheither that he payde or took by taille,

Algate he wayted so in his achaat

That he was ay biforn and in good staat.

Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace

That swich a lewed mannes wit shal pace

The wisdom of an heep of lerned men?

Of maistres hadde he mo than thries ten,

That weren of lawe expert and curious,

Of which ther were a duszeyne in that hous

Worthy to been stywardes of rente and lond

580 Of any lord that is in Engelond,

To make hym lyve by his propre good

In honour dettelees (but if he were wood),

Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desire;

And able for to helpen al a shire

In any caas that myghte falle or happe.

And yet this Manciple sette hir aller cappe.

The REVE was a sclendre colerik man.

His berd was shave as ny as ever he kan;

His heer was by his erys ful round yshorn;

590 His top was dokked lyk a preest biforn.

Ful longe were his legges and ful lene,

Ylyk a staf; ther was no calf ysene.

Wel koude he kepe a gerner and a bynne;

Ther was noon auditour koude on him wynne.

Wel wiste he by the droghte and by the reyn

The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn.

His lordes sheep, his neet, his dayerye,

His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrye

Was hoolly in this Reves governynge,

600 And by his covenant yaf the rekenynge,

Syn that his lord was twenty yeer of age.

Ther koude no man brynge hym in arrerage.

Ther nas baillif, ne hierde, nor oother hyne,

That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne;

They were adrad of hym as of the deeth.

His wonyng was ful faire upon an heeth;

With grene trees yshadwed was his place.

He koude bettre than his lord purchace.

Ful riche he was astored pryvely.

610 His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly,

To yeve and lene hym of his owene good,

And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood.

In youthe he hadde lerned a good myster:

He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter.

This Reve sat upon a ful good stot

That was al pomely grey and highte Scot.

A long surcote of pers upon he hade,

And by his syde he baar a rusty blade.

Of Northfolk was this Reve of which I telle,

620 Biside a toun men clepen Baldeswelle.

Tukked he was as is a frere aboute,

And evere he rood the hyndreste of oure route.

A SOMONOUR was ther with us in that place,

That hadde a fyr-reed cherubynnes face,

For saucefleem he was, with eyen narwe.

As hoot he was and lecherous as a sparwe,

With scalled browes blake and piled berd.

Of his visage children were aferd.

Ther nas quyk-silver, lytarge, ne brymstoon,

630 Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon,

Ne oynement that wolde clense and byte,

That hym myghte helpen of his whelkes white,

Nor of the knobbes sittynge on his chekes.

Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes,

And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood;

Thanne wolde he speke and crie as he were wood.

And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn,

Thanne wolde he speke no word but Latyn.

A fewe termes hadde he, two or thre,

640 That he had lerned out of som decree --

No wonder is, he herde it al the day;

And eek ye knowen wel how that a jay

Kan clepen "Watte" as wel as kan the pope.

But whoso koude in oother thyng hym grope,

Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophie;

Ay "Questio quid iuris" wolde he crie.

He was a gentil harlot and a kynde;

A bettre felawe sholde men noght fynde.

He wolde suffre for a quart of wyn

650 A good felawe to have his concubyn

A twelf month, and excuse hym atte fulle;

Ful prively a fynch eek koude he pulle.

And if he foond owher a good felawe,

He wolde techen him to have noon awe

In swich caas of the ercedekenes curs,

But if a mannes soule were in his purs;

For in his purs he sholde ypunysshed be.

"Purs is the ercedekenes helle," seyde he.

But wel I woot he lyed right in dede;

660 Of cursyng oghte ech gilty man him drede,

For curs wol slee right as assoillyng savith,

And also war hym of a Significavit.

In daunger hadde he at his owene gise

The yonge girles of the diocise,

And knew hir conseil, and was al hir reed.

A gerland hadde he set upon his heed,

As greet as it were for an ale-stake.

A bokeleer hadde he maad hym of a cake.

With hym ther rood a gentil PARDONER

670 Of Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer,

That streight was comen fro the court of Rome.

Ful loude he soong "Com hider, love, to me!"

This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun;

Was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun.

This Pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex,

But smothe it heeng as dooth a strike of flex;

By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde,

And therwith he his shuldres overspradde;

But thynne it lay, by colpons oon and oon.

680 But hood, for jolitee, wered he noon,

For it was trussed up in his walet.

Hym thoughte he rood al of the newe jet;

Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare.

Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare.

A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his cappe.

His walet, biforn hym in his lappe,

Bretful of pardoun comen from Rome al hoot.

A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot.

No berd hadde he, ne nevere sholde have;

690 As smothe it was as it were late shave.

I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare.

But of his craft, fro Berwyk into Ware

Ne was ther swich another pardoner.

For in his male he hadde a pilwe-beer,

Which that he seyde was Oure Lady veyl;

He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl

That Seint Peter hadde, whan that he wente

Upon the see, til Jhesu Crist hym hente.

He hadde a croys of latoun ful of stones,

700 And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.

But with thise relikes, whan that he fond

A povre person dwellynge upon lond,

Upon a day he gat hym moore moneye

Than that the person gat in monthes tweye;

And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes,

He made the person and the peple his apes.

But trewely to tellen atte laste,

He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste.

Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a storie,

710 But alderbest he song an offertorie;

For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe,

He moste preche and wel affile his tonge

To wynne silver, as he ful wel koude;

Therefore he song the murierly and loude.

Now have I toold you soothly, in a clause,

Th' estaat, th' array, the nombre, and eek the cause

Why that assembled was this compaignye

In Southwerk at this gentil hostelrye

That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle.

720 But now is tyme to yow for to telle

How that we baren us that ilke nyght,

Whan we were in that hostelrie alyght;

And after wol I telle of our viage

And al the remenaunt of oure pilgrimage.

But first I pray yow, of youre curteisye,

That ye n' arette it nat my vileynye,

Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere,

To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere,

Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely.

730 For this ye knowen al so wel as I:

Whoso shal telle a tale after a man,

He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan

Everich a word, if it be in his charge,

Al speke he never so rudeliche and large,

Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe,

Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe.

He may nat spare, althogh he were his brother;

He moot as wel seye o word as another.

Crist spak hymself ful brode in hooly writ,

740 And wel ye woot no vileynye is it.

Eek Plato seith, whoso kan hym rede,

The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede.

Also I prey yow to foryeve it me,

Al have I nat set folk in hir degree

Heere in this tale, as that they sholde stonde.

My wit is short, ye may wel understonde.

Greet chiere made oure Hoost us everichon,

And to the soper sette he us anon.

He served us with vitaille at the beste;

750 Strong was the wyn, and wel to drynke us leste.

A semely man OURE HOOSTE was withalle

For to been a marchal in an halle.

A large man he was with eyen stepe --

A fairer burgeys was ther noon in Chepe --

Boold of his speche, and wys, and wel ytaught,

And of manhod hym lakkede right naught.

Eek therto he was right a myrie man;

And after soper pleyen he bigan,

And spak of myrthe amonges othere thynges,

760 Whan that we hadde maad oure rekenynges,

And seyde thus: "Now, lordynges, trewely,

Ye been to me right welcome, hertely;

For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye,

I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaignye

Atones in this herberwe as is now.

Fayn wolde I doon yow myrthe, wiste I how.

And of a myrthe I am right now bythoght,

To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght.

"Ye goon to Caunterbury -- God yow speede,

770 The blisful martir quite yow youre meede!

And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye,

Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye;

For trewely, confort ne myrthe is noon

To ride by the weye doumb as a stoon;

And therfore wol I maken yow disport,

As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort.

And if yow liketh alle by oon assent

For to stonden at my juggement,

And for to werken as I shal yow seye,

780 Tomorwe, whan ye riden by the weye,

Now, by my fader soule that is deed,

But ye be myrie, I wol yeve yow myn heed!

Hoold up youre hondes, withouten moore speche."

Oure conseil was nat longe for to seche.

Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys,

And graunted hym withouten moore avys,

And bad him seye his voirdit as hym leste.

"Lordynges," quod he, "now herkneth for the beste;

But taak it nought, I prey yow, in desdeyn.

790 This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn,

That ech of yow, to shorte with oure weye,

In this viage shal telle tales tweye

To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so,

And homward he shal tellen othere two,

Of aventures that whilom han bifalle.

And which of yow that bereth hym best of alle --

That is to seyn, that telleth in this caas

Tales of best sentence and moost solaas --

Shal have a soper at oure aller cost

800 Heere in this place, sittynge by this post,

Whan that we come agayn fro Caunterbury.

And for to make yow the moore mury,

I wol myselven goodly with yow ryde,

Right at myn owene cost, and be youre gyde;

And whoso wole my juggement withseye

Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye.

And if ye vouche sauf that it be so,

Tel me anon, withouten wordes mo,

And I wol erly shape me therfore."

810 This thyng was graunted, and oure othes swore

With ful glad herte, and preyden hym also

That he wolde vouche sauf for to do so,

And that he wolde been oure governour,

And of oure tales juge and reportour,

And sette a soper at a certeyn pris,

And we wol reuled been at his devys

In heigh and lough; and thus by oon assent

We been acorded to his juggement.

And therupon the wyn was fet anon;

820 We dronken, and to reste wente echon,

Withouten any lenger taryynge.

Amorwe, whan that day bigan to sprynge,

Up roos oure Hoost, and was oure aller cok,

And gadrede us togidre alle in a flok,

And forth we riden a litel moore than paas

Unto the Wateryng of Seint Thomas;

And there oure Hoost bigan his hors areste

And seyde, "Lordynges, herkneth, if yow leste.

Ye woot youre foreward, and I it yow recorde.

830 If even-song and morwe-song accorde,

Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale.

As evere mote I drynke wyn or ale,

Whoso be rebel to my juggement

Shal paye for al that by the wey is spent.

Now draweth cut, er that we ferrer twynne;

He which that hath the shorteste shal bigynne.

Sire Knyght," quod he, "my mayster and my lord,

Now draweth cut, for that is myn accord.

Cometh neer," quod he, "my lady Prioresse.

840 And ye, sire Clerk, lat be youre shamefastnesse,

Ne studieth noght; ley hond to, every man!"

Anon to drawen every wight bigan,

And shortly for to tellen as it was,

Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas,

The sothe is this: the cut fil to the Knyght,

Of which ful blithe and glad was every wyght,

And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun,

By foreward and by composicioun,

As ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo?

850 And whan this goode man saugh that it was so,

As he that wys was and obedient

To kepe his foreward by his free assent,

He seyde, "Syn I shal bigynne the game,

What, welcome be the cut, a Goddes name!

Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye."

And with that word we ryden forth oure weye,

And he bigan with right a myrie cheere

His tale anon, and seyde as ye may heere.

THE KNIGHT'S TALE

Whilom, as olde stories tellen us,

860 Ther was a duc that highte Theseus;

Of Atthenes he was lord and governour,

And in his tyme swich a conquerour

That gretter was ther noon under the sonne.

Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonne;

What with his wysdom and his chivalrie,

He conquered al the regne of Femenye,

That whilom was ycleped Scithia,

And weddede the queene Ypolita,

And broghte hire hoom with hym in his contree

870 With muchel glorie and greet solempnytee,

And eek hir yonge suster Emelye.

And thus with victorie and with melodye

Lete I this noble duc to Atthenes ryde,

And al his hoost in armes hym bisyde.

And certes, if it nere to long to heere,

I wolde have toold yow fully the manere

How wonnen was the regne of Femenye

By Theseus and by his chivalrye;

And of the grete bataille for the nones

880 Bitwixen Atthenes and Amazones;

And how asseged was Ypolita,

The faire, hardy queene of Scithia;

And of the feste that was at hir weddynge,

And of the tempest at hir hoom-comynge;

But al that thyng I moot as now forbere.

I have, God woot, a large feeld to ere,

And wayke been the oxen in my plough.

The remenant of the tale is long ynough.

I wol nat letten eek noon of this route;

890 Lat every felawe telle his tale aboute,

And lat se now who shal the soper wynne;

And ther I lefte, I wol ayeyn bigynne.

This duc, of whom I make mencioun,

Whan he was come almoost unto the toun,

In al his wele and in his mooste pride,

He was war, as he caste his eye aside,

Where that ther kneled in the heighe weye

A compaignye of ladyes, tweye and tweye,

Ech after oother clad in clothes blake;

900 But swich a cry and swich a wo they make

That in this world nys creature lyvynge

That herde swich another waymentynge;

And of this cry they nolde nevere stenten

Til they the reynes of his brydel henten.

"What folk been ye, that at myn hom-comynge

Perturben so my feste with criynge?"

Quod Theseus. "Have ye so greet envye

Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crye?

Or who hath yow mysboden or offended?

910 And telleth me if it may been amended,

And why that ye been clothed thus in blak."

The eldeste lady of hem alle spak,

Whan she hadde swowned with a deedly cheere,

That it was routhe for to seen and heere;

She seyde, "Lord, to whom Fortune hath yiven

Victorie, and as a conqueror to lyven,

Nat greveth us youre glorie and youre honour,

But we biseken mercy and socour.

Have mercy on oure wo and oure distresse!

920 Som drope of pitee, thurgh thy gentillesse,

Upon us wrecched wommen lat thou falle,

For, certes, lord, ther is noon of us alle

That she ne hath been a duchesse or a queene.

Now be we caytyves, as it is wel seene,

Thanked be Fortune and hire false wheel,

That noon estaat assureth to be weel.

And certes, lord, to abyden youre presence,

Heere in this temple of the goddesse Clemence

We han ben waitynge al this fourtenyght.

930 Now help us, lord, sith it is in thy myght.

"I, wrecche, which that wepe and wayle thus,

Was whilom wyf to kyng Cappaneus,

That starf at Thebes -- cursed be that day! --

And alle we that been in this array

And maken al this lamentacioun,

We losten alle oure housbondes at that toun,

Whil that the seege theraboute lay.

And yet now the olde Creon -- weylaway! --

That lord is now of Thebes the citee,

940 Fulfild of ire and of iniquitee,

He, for despit and for his tirannye,

To do the dede bodyes vileynye

Of alle oure lordes whiche that been yslawe,

Hath alle the bodyes on an heep ydrawe,

And wol nat suffren hem, by noon assent,

Neither to been yburyed nor ybrent,

But maketh houndes ete hem in despit."

And with that word, withouten moore respit,

They fillen gruf and criden pitously,

950 "Have on us wrecched wommen som mercy,

And lat oure sorwe synken in thyn herte."

This gentil duc doun from his courser sterte

With herte pitous, whan he herde hem speke.

Hym thoughte that his herte wolde breke,

Whan he saugh hem so pitous and so maat,

That whilom weren of so greet estaat;

And in his armes he hem alle up hente,

And hem conforteth in ful good entente,

And swoor his ooth, as he was trewe knyght,

960 He wolde doon so ferforthly his myght

Upon the tiraunt Creon hem to wreke

That al the peple of Grece sholde speke

How Creon was of Theseus yserved

As he that hadde his deeth ful wel deserved.

And right anoon, withouten moore abood,

His baner he desplayeth, and forth rood

To Thebes-ward, and al his hoost biside.

No neer Atthenes wolde he go ne ride,

Ne take his ese fully half a day,

970 But onward on his wey that nyght he lay,

And sente anon Ypolita the queene,

And Emelye, hir yonge suster sheene,

Unto the toun of Atthenes to dwelle,

And forth he rit; ther is namoore to telle.

The rede statue of Mars, with spere and targe,

So shyneth in his white baner large

That alle the feeldes glyteren up and doun;

And by his baner born is his penoun

Of gold ful riche, in which ther was ybete

980 The Mynotaur, which that he wan in Crete.

Thus rit this duc, thus rit this conquerour,

And in his hoost of chivalrie the flour,

Til that he cam to Thebes and alighte

Faire in a feeld, ther as he thoughte to fighte.

But shortly for to speken of this thyng,

With Creon, which that was of Thebes kyng,

He faught, and slough hym manly as a knyght

In pleyn bataille, and putte the folk to flyght;

And by assaut he wan the citee after,

990 And rente adoun bothe wall and sparre and rafter;

And to the ladyes he restored agayn

The bones of hir freendes that were slayn,

To doon obsequies, as was tho the gyse.

But it were al to longe for to devyse

The grete clamour and the waymentynge

That the ladyes made at the brennynge

Of the bodies, and the grete honour

That Theseus, the noble conquerour,

Dooth to the ladyes, whan they from hym wente;

1000 But shortly for to telle is myn entente.

Whan that this worthy duc, this Theseus,

Hath Creon slayn and wonne Thebes thus,

Stille in that feeld he took al nyght his reste,

And dide with al the contree as hym leste.

To ransake in the taas of bodyes dede,

Hem for to strepe of harneys and of wede,

The pilours diden bisynesse and cure

After the bataille and disconfiture.

And so bifel that in the taas they founde,

1010 Thurgh-girt with many a grevous blody wounde,

Two yonge knyghtes liggynge by and by,

Bothe in oon armes, wroght ful richely,

Of whiche two Arcita highte that oon,

And that oother knyght highte Palamon.

Nat fully quyke, ne fully dede they were,

But by hir cote-armures and by hir gere

The heraudes knewe hem best in special

As they that weren of the blood roial

Of Thebes, and of sustren two yborn.

1020 Out of the taas the pilours han hem torn,

And han hem caried softe unto the tente

Of Theseus; and he ful soone hem sente

To Atthenes, to dwellen in prisoun

Perpetuelly -- he nolde no raunsoun.

And whan this worthy duc hath thus ydon,

He took his hoost, and hoom he rit anon

With laurer crowned as a conquerour;

And ther he lyveth in joye and in honour

Terme of his lyf; what nedeth wordes mo?

1030 And in a tour, in angwissh and in wo,

This Palamon and his felawe Arcite

For everemoore; ther may no gold hem quite.

This passeth yeer by yeer and day by day,

Till it fil ones, in a morwe of May,

That Emelye, that fairer was to sene

Than is the lylie upon his stalke grene,

And fressher than the May with floures newe --

For with the rose colour stroof hire hewe,

I noot which was the fyner of hem two --

1040 Er it were day, as was hir wone to do,

She was arisen and al redy dight,

For May wole have no slogardie anyght.

The sesoun priketh every gentil herte,

And maketh it out of his slep to sterte,

And seith "Arys, and do thyn observaunce."

This maked Emelye have remembraunce

To doon honour to May, and for to ryse.

Yclothed was she fressh, for to devyse:

Hir yelow heer was broyded in a tresse

1050 Bihynde hir bak, a yerde long, I gesse.

And in the gardyn, at the sonne upriste,

She walketh up and doun, and as hire liste

She gadereth floures, party white and rede,

To make a subtil gerland for hire hede;

And as an aungel hevenysshly she soong.

The grete tour, that was so thikke and stroong,

Which of the castel was the chief dongeoun

(Ther as the knyghtes weren in prisoun

Of which I tolde yow and tellen shal),

1060 Was evene joynant to the gardyn wal

Ther as this Emelye hadde hir pleyynge.

Bright was the sonne and cleer that morwenynge,

And Palamoun, this woful prisoner,

As was his wone, by leve of his gayler,

Was risen and romed in a chambre an heigh,

In which he al the noble citee seigh,

And eek the gardyn, ful of braunches grene,

Ther as this fresshe Emelye the shene

Was in hire walk, and romed up and doun.

1070 This sorweful prisoner, this Palamoun,

Goth in the chambre romynge to and fro

And to hymself compleynynge of his wo.

That he was born, ful ofte he seyde, "allas!"

And so bifel, by aventure or cas,

That thurgh a wyndow, thikke of many a barre

Of iren greet and square as any sparre,

He cast his eye upon Emelya,

And therwithal he bleynte and cride, "A!"

As though he stongen were unto the herte.

1080 And with that cry Arcite anon up sterte

And seyde, "Cosyn myn, what eyleth thee,

That art so pale and deedly on to see?

Why cridestow? Who hath thee doon offence?

For Goddes love, taak al in pacience

Oure prisoun, for it may noon oother be.

Fortune hath yeven us this adversitee.

Som wikke aspect or disposicioun

Of Saturne, by som constellacioun,

Hath yeven us this, although we hadde it sworn;

1090 So stood the hevene whan that we were born.

We moste endure it; this is the short and playn."

This Palamon answerde and seyde agayn,

"Cosyn, for sothe, of this opinioun

Thow hast a veyn ymaginacioun.

This prison caused me nat for to crye,

But I was hurt right now thurghout myn ye

Into myn herte, that wol my bane be.

The fairnesse of that lady that I see

Yond in the gardyn romen to and fro

1100 Is cause of al my criyng and my wo.

I noot wher she be womman or goddesse,

But Venus is it soothly, as I gesse."

And therwithal on knees doun he fil,

And seyde, "Venus, if it be thy wil

Yow in this gardyn thus to transfigure

Bifore me, sorweful, wrecched creature,

Out of this prisoun help that we may scapen.

And if so be my destynee be shapen

By eterne word to dyen in prisoun,

1110 Of oure lynage have som compassioun,

That is so lowe ybroght by tirannye."

And with that word Arcite gan espye

Wher as this lady romed to and fro,

And with that sighte hir beautee hurte hym so,

That, if that Palamon was wounded sore,

Arcite is hurt as muche as he, or moore.

And with a sigh he seyde pitously,

"The fresshe beautee sleeth me sodeynly

Of hire that rometh in the yonder place;

1120 And but I have hir mercy and hir grace,

That I may seen hire atte leeste weye,

I nam but deed; ther nis namoore to seye."

This Palamon, whan he tho wordes herde,

Dispitously he looked and answerde,

"Wheither seistow this in ernest or in pley?"

"Nay," quod Arcite, "in ernest, by my fey!

God helpe me so, me list ful yvele pleye."

This Palamon gan knytte his browes tweye.

"It nere," quod he, "to thee no greet honour

1130 For to be fals, ne for to be traitour

To me, that am thy cosyn and thy brother

Ysworn ful depe, and ech of us til oother,

That nevere, for to dyen in the peyne,

Til that the deeth departe shal us tweyne,

Neither of us in love to hyndre oother,

Ne in noon oother cas, my leeve brother,

But that thou sholdest trewely forthren me

In every cas, as I shal forthren thee --

This was thyn ooth, and myn also, certeyn;

1140 I woot right wel, thou darst it nat withseyn.

Thus artow of my conseil, out of doute,

And now thow woldest falsly been aboute

To love my lady, whom I love and serve,

And evere shal til that myn herte sterve.

Nay, certes, false Arcite, thow shalt nat so.

I loved hire first, and tolde thee my wo

As to my conseil and my brother sworn

To forthre me, as I have toold biforn.

For which thou art ybounden as a knyght

1150 To helpen me, if it lay in thy myght,

Or elles artow fals, I dar wel seyn."

This Arcite ful proudly spak ageyn:

"Thow shalt," quod he, "be rather fals than I;

And thou art fals, I telle thee outrely,

For paramour I loved hire first er thow.

What wiltow seyen? Thou woost nat yet now

Wheither she be a womman or goddesse!

Thyn is affeccioun of hoolynesse,

And myn is love as to a creature;

1160 For which I tolde thee myn aventure

As to my cosyn and my brother sworn.

I pose that thow lovedest hire biforn;

Wostow nat wel the olde clerkes sawe,

That `who shal yeve a lovere any lawe?'

Love is a gretter lawe, by my pan,

Than may be yeve to any erthely man;

And therfore positif lawe and swich decree

Is broken al day for love in ech degree.

A man moot nedes love, maugree his heed;

1170 He may nat fleen it, thogh he sholde be deed,

Al be she mayde, or wydwe, or elles wyf.

And eek it is nat likly al thy lyf

To stonden in hir grace; namoore shal I;

For wel thou woost thyselven, verraily,

That thou and I be dampned to prisoun

Perpetuelly; us gayneth no raunsoun.

We stryve as dide the houndes for the boon;

They foughte al day, and yet hir part was noon.

Ther cam a kyte, whil that they were so wrothe,

1180 And baar awey the boon bitwixe hem bothe.

And therfore, at the kynges court, my brother,

Ech man for hymself, ther is noon oother.

Love, if thee list, for I love and ay shal;

And soothly, leeve brother, this is al.

Heere in this prisoun moote we endure,

And everich of us take his aventure."

Greet was the strif and long bitwix hem tweye,

If that I hadde leyser for to seye;

But to th' effect. It happed on a day,

1190 To telle it yow as shortly as I may,

A worthy duc that highte Perotheus,

That felawe was unto duc Theseus

Syn thilke day that they were children lite,

Was come to Atthenes his felawe to visite,

And for to pleye as he was wont to do;

For in this world he loved no man so,

And he loved hym als tendrely agayn.

So wel they lovede, as olde bookes sayn,

That whan that oon was deed, soothly to telle,

1200 His felawe wente and soughte hym doun in helle --

But of that storie list me nat to write.

Duc Perotheus loved wel Arcite,

And hadde hym knowe at Thebes yeer by yere,

And finally at requeste and preyere

Of Perotheus, withouten any raunsoun,

Duc Theseus hym leet out of prisoun

Frely to goon wher that hym liste over al,

In swich a gyse as I you tellen shal.

This was the forward, pleynly for t' endite,

1210 Bitwixen Theseus and hym Arcite:

That if so were that Arcite were yfounde

Evere in his lif, by day or nyght, oo stounde

In any contree of this Theseus,

And he were caught, it was acorded thus,

That with a swerd he sholde lese his heed.

Ther nas noon oother remedie ne reed;

But taketh his leve, and homward he him spedde.

Lat hym be war! His nekke lith to wedde.

How greet a sorwe suffreth now Arcite!

1220 The deeth he feeleth thurgh his herte smyte;

He wepeth, wayleth, crieth pitously;

To sleen hymself he waiteth prively.

He seyde, "Allas that day that I was born!

Now is my prisoun worse than biforn;

Now is me shape eternally to dwelle

Noght in purgatorie, but in helle.

Allas, that evere knew I Perotheus!

For elles hadde I dwelled with Theseus,

Yfetered in his prisoun everemo.

1230 Thanne hadde I been in blisse and nat in wo.

Oonly the sighte of hire whom that I serve,

Though that I nevere hir grace may deserve,

Wolde han suffised right ynough for me.

O deere cosyn Palamon," quod he,

"Thyn is the victorie of this aventure.

Ful blisfully in prison maistow dure --

In prison? Certes nay, but in paradys!

Wel hath Fortune yturned thee the dys,

That hast the sighte of hire, and I th' absence.

1240 For possible is, syn thou hast hire presence,

And art a knyght, a worthy and an able,

That by som cas, syn Fortune is chaungeable,

Thow maist to thy desir somtyme atteyne.

But I, that am exiled and bareyne

Of alle grace, and in so greet dispeir

That ther nys erthe, water, fir, ne eir,

Ne creature that of hem maked is,

That may me helpe or doon confort in this,

Wel oughte I sterve in wanhope and distresse.

1250 Farwel my lif, my lust, and my gladnesse!

"Allas, why pleynen folk so in commune

On purveiaunce of God, or of Fortune,

That yeveth hem ful ofte in many a gyse

Wel bettre than they kan hemself devyse?

Som man desireth for to han richesse,

That cause is of his mordre or greet siknesse;

And som man wolde out of his prisoun fayn,

That in his hous is of his meynee slayn.

Infinite harmes been in this mateere.

1260 We witen nat what thing we preyen heere;

We faren as he that dronke is as a mous.

A dronke man woot wel he hath an hous,

But he noot which the righte wey is thider,

And to a dronke man the wey is slider.

And certes, in this world so faren we;

We seken faste after felicitee,

But we goon wrong ful often, trewely.

Thus may we seyen alle, and namely I,

That wende and hadde a greet opinioun

1270 That if I myghte escapen from prisoun,

Thanne hadde I been in joye and parfit heele,

Ther now I am exiled fro my wele.

Syn that I may nat seen you, Emelye,

I nam but deed; ther nys no remedye."

Upon that oother syde Palamon,

Whan that he wiste Arcite was agon,

Swich sorwe he maketh that the grete tour

Resouneth of his youlyng and clamour.

The pure fettres on his shynes grete

1280 Weren of his bittre, salte teeres wete.

"Allas," quod he, "Arcita, cosyn myn,

Of al oure strif, God woot, the fruyt is thyn.

Thow walkest now in Thebes at thy large,

And of my wo thow yevest litel charge.

Thou mayst, syn thou hast wisdom and manhede,

Assemblen alle the folk of oure kynrede,

And make a werre so sharp on this citee

That by som aventure or some tretee

Thow mayst have hire to lady and to wyf

1290 For whom that I moste nedes lese my lyf.

For, as by wey of possibilitee,

Sith thou art at thy large, of prisoun free,

And art a lord, greet is thyn avauntage

Moore than is myn, that sterve here in a cage.

For I moot wepe and wayle, whil I lyve,

With al the wo that prison may me yive,

And eek with peyne that love me yeveth also,

That doubleth al my torment and my wo."

Therwith the fyr of jalousie up sterte

1300 Withinne his brest, and hente him by the herte

So woodly that he lyk was to biholde

The boxtree or the asshen dede and colde.

Thanne seyde he, "O crueel goddes that governe

This world with byndyng of youre word eterne,

And writen in the table of atthamaunt

Youre parlement and youre eterne graunt,

What is mankynde moore unto you holde

Than is the sheep that rouketh in the folde?

For slayn is man right as another beest,

1310 And dwelleth eek in prison and arreest,

And hath siknesse and greet adversitee,

And ofte tymes giltelees, pardee.

"What governance is in this prescience,

That giltelees tormenteth innocence?

And yet encresseth this al my penaunce,

That man is bounden to his observaunce,

For Goddes sake, to letten of his wille,

Ther as a beest may al his lust fulfille.

And whan a beest is deed he hath no peyne;

1320 But man after his deeth moot wepe and pleyne,

Though in this world he have care and wo.

Withouten doute it may stonden so.

The answere of this lete I to dyvynys,

But wel I woot that in this world greet pyne ys.

Allas, I se a serpent or a theef,

That many a trewe man hath doon mescheef,

Goon at his large, and where hym list may turne.

But I moot been in prisoun thurgh Saturne,

And eek thurgh Juno, jalous and eek wood,

1330 That hath destroyed wel ny al the blood

Of Thebes with his waste walles wyde;

And Venus sleeth me on that oother syde

For jalousie and fere of hym Arcite."

Now wol I stynte of Palamon a lite,

And lete hym in his prisoun stille dwelle,

And of Arcita forth I wol yow telle.

The somer passeth, and the nyghtes longe

Encressen double wise the peynes stronge

Bothe of the lovere and the prisoner.

1340 I noot which hath the wofuller mester.

For, shortly for to seyn, this Palamoun

Perpetuelly is dampned to prisoun,

In cheynes and in fettres to been deed;

And Arcite is exiled upon his heed

For everemo, as out of that contree,

Ne nevere mo ne shal his lady see.

Yow loveres axe I now this questioun:

Who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamoun?

That oon may seen his lady day by day,

1350 But in prison he moot dwelle alway;

That oother wher hym list may ride or go,

But seen his lady shal he nevere mo.

Now demeth as yow liste, ye that kan,

For I wol telle forth as I bigan.

Whan that Arcite to Thebes comen was,

Ful ofte a day he swelte and seyde "Allas!"

For seen his lady shal he nevere mo.

And shortly to concluden al his wo,

So muche sorwe hadde nevere creature

1360 That is, or shal, whil that the world may dure.

His slep, his mete, his drynke, is hym biraft,

That lene he wex and drye as is a shaft;

His eyen holwe and grisly to biholde,

His hewe falow and pale as asshen colde,

And solitarie he was and evere allone,

And waillynge al the nyght, makynge his mone;

And if he herde song or instrument,

Thanne wolde he wepe, he myghte nat be stent.

So feble eek were his spiritz, and so lowe,

1370 And chaunged so, that no man koude knowe

His speche nor his voys, though men it herde.

And in his geere for al the world he ferde

Nat oonly lik the loveris maladye

Of Hereos, but rather lyk manye,

Engendred of humour malencolik

Biforen, in his celle fantastik.

And shortly, turned was al up so doun

Bothe habit and eek disposicioun

Of hym, this woful lovere daun Arcite.

1380 What sholde I al day of his wo endite?

Whan he endured hadde a yeer or two

This crueel torment and this peyne and wo,

At Thebes, in his contree, as I seyde,

Upon a nyght in sleep as he hym leyde,

Hym thoughte how that the wynged god Mercurie

Biforn hym stood and bad hym to be murie.

His slepy yerde in hond he bar uprighte;

An hat he werede upon his heris brighte.

Arrayed was this god, as he took keep,

1390 As he was whan that Argus took his sleep;

And seyde hym thus: "To Atthenes shaltou wende,

Ther is thee shapen of thy wo an ende."

And with that word Arcite wook and sterte.

"Now trewely, hou soore that me smerte,"

Quod he, "to Atthenes right now wol I fare,

Ne for the drede of deeth shal I nat spare

To se my lady, that I love and serve.

In hire presence I recche nat to sterve."

And with that word he caughte a greet mirour,

1400 And saugh that chaunged was al his colour,

And saugh his visage al in another kynde.

And right anon it ran hym in his mynde,

That, sith his face was so disfigured

Of maladye the which he hadde endured,

He myghte wel, if that he bar hym lowe,

Lyve in Atthenes everemoore unknowe,

And seen his lady wel ny day by day.

And right anon he chaunged his array,

And cladde hym as a povre laborer,

1410 And al allone, save oonly a squier

That knew his privetee and al his cas,

Which was disgised povrely as he was,

To Atthenes is he goon the nexte way.

And to the court he wente upon a day,

And at the gate he profreth his servyse

To drugge and drawe, what so men wol devyse.

And shortly of this matere for to seyn,

He fil in office with a chamberleyn

The which that dwellynge was with Emelye,

1420 For he was wys and koude soone espye,

Of every servaunt, which that serveth here.

Wel koude he hewen wode, and water bere,

For he was yong and myghty for the nones,

And therto he was long and big of bones

To doon that any wight kan hym devyse.

A yeer or two he was in this servyse,

Page of the chambre of Emelye the brighte,

And Philostrate he seyde that he highte.

But half so wel biloved a man as he

1430 Ne was ther nevere in court of his degree;

He was so gentil of condicioun

That thurghout al the court was his renoun.

They seyden that it were a charitee

That Theseus wolde enhauncen his degree,

And putten hym in worshipful servyse,

Ther as he myghte his vertu excercise.

And thus withinne a while his name is spronge,

Bothe of his dedes and his goode tonge,

That Theseus hath taken hym so neer

1440 That of his chambre he made hym a squier,

And gaf hym gold to mayntene his degree.

And eek men broghte hym out of his contree,

From yeer to yeer, ful pryvely his rente;

But honestly and slyly he it spente,

That no man wondred how that he it hadde.

And thre yeer in this wise his lif he ladde,

And bar hym so, in pees and eek in werre,

Ther was no man that Theseus hath derre.

And in this blisse lete I now Arcite,

1450 And speke I wole of Palamon a lite.

In derknesse and horrible and strong prisoun

Thise seven yeer hath seten Palamoun

Forpyned, what for wo and for distresse.

Who feeleth double soor and hevynesse

But Palamon, that love destreyneth so

That wood out of his wit he goth for wo?

And eek therto he is a prisoner

Perpetuelly, noght oonly for a yer.

Who koude ryme in Englyssh proprely

1460 His martirdom? For sothe it am nat I;

Therfore I passe as lightly as I may.

It fel that in the seventhe yer, of May

The thridde nyght (as olde bookes seyn,

That al this storie tellen moore pleyn),

Were it by aventure or destynee --

As, whan a thyng is shapen, it shal be --

That soone after the mydnyght Palamoun,

By helpyng of a freend, brak his prisoun

And fleeth the citee faste as he may go.

1470 For he hadde yeve his gayler drynke so

Of a clarree maad of a certeyn wyn,

With nercotikes and opie of Thebes fyn,

That al that nyght, thogh that men wolde him shake,

The gayler sleep; he myghte nat awake.

And thus he fleeth as faste as evere he may.

The nyght was short and faste by the day

That nedes cost he moot hymselven hyde,

And til a grove faste ther bisyde

With dredeful foot thanne stalketh Palamon.

1480 For, shortly, this was his opinion:

That in that grove he wolde hym hyde al day,

And in the nyght thanne wolde he take his way

To Thebes-ward, his freendes for to preye

On Theseus to helpe him to werreye;

And shortly, outher he wolde lese his lif

Or wynnen Emelye unto his wyf.

This is th' effect and his entente pleyn.

Now wol I turne to Arcite ageyn,

That litel wiste how ny that was his care,

1490 Til that Fortune had broght him in the snare.

The bisy larke, messager of day,

Salueth in hir song the morwe gray,

And firy Phebus riseth up so bright

That al the orient laugheth of the light,

And with his stremes dryeth in the greves

The silver dropes hangynge on the leves.

And Arcita, that in the court roial

With Theseus is squier principal,

Is risen and looketh on the myrie day.

1500 And for to doon his observaunce to May,

Remembrynge on the poynt of his desir,

He on a courser, startlynge as the fir,

Is riden into the feeldes hym to pleye,

Out of the court, were it a myle or tweye.

And to the grove of which that I yow tolde

By aventure his wey he gan to holde

To maken hym a gerland of the greves,

Were it of wodebynde or hawethorn leves,

And loude he song ayeyn the sonne shene:

1510 "May, with alle thy floures and thy grene,

Welcome be thou, faire, fresshe May,

In hope that I som grene gete may."

And from his courser, with a lusty herte,

Into the grove ful hastily he sterte,

And in a path he rometh up and doun,

Ther as by aventure this Palamoun

Was in a bussh, that no man myghte hym se,

For soore afered of his deeth was he.

No thyng ne knew he that it was Arcite;

1520 God woot he wolde have trowed it ful lite.

But sooth is seyd, go sithen many yeres,

That "feeld hath eyen and the wode hath eres."

It is ful fair a man to bere hym evene,

For al day meeteth men at unset stevene.

Ful litel woot Arcite of his felawe,

That was so ny to herknen al his sawe,

For in the bussh he sitteth now ful stille.

Whan that Arcite hadde romed al his fille,

And songen al the roundel lustily,

1530 Into a studie he fil sodeynly,

As doon thise loveres in hir queynte geres,

Now in the crope, now doun in the breres,

Now up, now doun, as boket in a welle.

Right as the Friday, soothly for to telle,

Now it shyneth, now it reyneth faste,

Right so kan geery Venus overcaste

The hertes of hir folk; right as hir day

Is gereful, right so chaungeth she array.

Selde is the Friday al the wowke ylike.

1540 Whan that Arcite had songe, he gan to sike

And sette hym doun withouten any moore.

"Allas," quod he, "that day that I was bore!

How longe, Juno, thurgh thy crueltee,

Woltow werreyen Thebes the citee?

Allas, ybroght is to confusioun

The blood roial of Cadme and Amphioun --

Of Cadmus, which that was the firste man

That Thebes bulte, or first the toun bigan,

And of the citee first was crouned kyng.

1550 Of his lynage am I and his ofspryng

By verray ligne, as of the stok roial,

And now I am so caytyf and so thral,

That he that is my mortal enemy,

I serve hym as his squier povrely.

And yet dooth Juno me wel moore shame,

For I dar noght biknowe myn owene name;

But ther as I was wont to highte Arcite,

Now highte I Philostrate, noght worth a myte.

Allas, thou felle Mars! Allas, Juno!

1560 Thus hath youre ire oure lynage al fordo,

Save oonly me and wrecched Palamoun,

That Theseus martireth in prisoun.

And over al this, to sleen me outrely

Love hath his firy dart so brennyngly

Ystiked thurgh my trewe, careful herte

That shapen was my deeth erst than my sherte.

Ye sleen me with youre eyen, Emelye!

Ye been the cause wherfore that I dye.

Of al the remenant of myn oother care

1570 Ne sette I nat the montance of a tare,

So that I koude doon aught to youre plesaunce."

And with that word he fil doun in a traunce

A longe tyme, and after he up sterte.

This Palamoun, that thoughte that thurgh his herte

He felte a coold swerd sodeynliche glyde,

For ire he quook; no lenger wolde he byde.

And whan that he had herd Arcites tale,

As he were wood, with face deed and pale,

He stirte hym up out of the buskes thikke

1580 And seide: "Arcite, false traytour wikke,

Now artow hent, that lovest my lady so,

For whom that I have al this peyne and wo,

And art my blood, and to my conseil sworn,

As I ful ofte have told thee heerbiforn,

And hast byjaped heere duc Theseus,

And falsly chaunged hast thy name thus!

I wol be deed, or elles thou shalt dye.

Thou shalt nat love my lady Emelye,

But I wol love hire oonly and namo;

1590 For I am Palamon, thy mortal foo.

And though that I no wepene have in this place,

But out of prison am astert by grace,

I drede noght that outher thow shalt dye,

Or thow ne shalt nat loven Emelye.

Chees which thou wolt, or thou shalt nat asterte!"

This Arcite, with ful despitous herte,

Whan he hym knew, and hadde his tale herd,

As fiers as leon pulled out his swerd,

And seyde thus: "By God that sit above,

1600 Nere it that thou art sik and wood for love,

And eek that thow no wepne hast in this place,

Thou sholdest nevere out of this grove pace,

That thou ne sholdest dyen of myn hond.

For I defye the seurete and the bond

Which that thou seist that I have maad to thee.

What! Verray fool, thynk wel that love is free,

And I wol love hire maugree al thy myght!

But for as muche thou art a worthy knyght

And wilnest to darreyne hire by bataille,

1610 Have heer my trouthe; tomorwe I wol nat faille,

Withoute wityng of any oother wight,

That heere I wol be founden as a knyght,

And bryngen harneys right ynough for thee;

And ches the beste, and leef the worste for me.

And mete and drynke this nyght wol I brynge

Ynough for thee, and clothes for thy beddynge.

And if so be that thou my lady wynne,

And sle me in this wode ther I am inne,

Thow mayst wel have thy lady as for me."

1620 This Palamon answerde, "I graunte it thee."

And thus they been departed til amorwe,

Whan ech of hem had leyd his feith to borwe.

O Cupide, out of alle charitee!

O regne, that wolt no felawe have with thee!

Ful sooth is seyd that love ne lordshipe

Wol noght, his thankes, have no felaweshipe.

Wel fynden that Arcite and Palamoun.

Arcite is riden anon unto the toun,

And on the morwe, er it were dayes light,

1630 Ful prively two harneys hath he dight,

Bothe suffisaunt and mete to darreyne

The bataille in the feeld bitwix hem tweyne;

And on his hors, allone as he was born,

He carieth al the harneys hym biforn.

And in the grove, at tyme and place yset,

This Arcite and this Palamon ben met.

To chaungen gan the colour in hir face;

Right as the hunters in the regne of Trace,

That stondeth at the gappe with a spere,

1640 Whan hunted is the leon or the bere,

And hereth hym come russhyng in the greves,

And breketh bothe bowes and the leves,

And thynketh, "Heere cometh my mortal enemy!

Withoute faille, he moot be deed, or I,

For outher I moot sleen hym at the gappe,

Or he moot sleen me, if that me myshappe."

So ferden they in chaungyng of hir hewe,

As fer as everich of hem oother knewe.

Ther nas no good day, ne no saluyng,

1650 But streight, withouten word or rehersyng,

Everich of hem heelp for to armen oother

As freendly as he were his owene brother;

And after that, with sharpe speres stronge

They foynen ech at oother wonder longe.

Thou myghtest wene that this Palamon

In his fightyng were a wood leon,

And as a crueel tigre was Arcite;

As wilde bores gonne they to smyte,

That frothen whit as foom for ire wood.

1660 Up to the ancle foghte they in hir blood.

And in this wise I lete hem fightyng dwelle,

And forth I wole of Theseus yow telle.

The destinee, ministre general,

That executeth in the world over al

The purveiaunce that God hath seyn biforn,

So strong it is that, though the world had sworn

The contrarie of a thyng by ye or nay,

Yet somtyme it shal fallen on a day

That falleth nat eft withinne a thousand yeer.

1670 For certeinly, oure appetites heer,

Be it of werre, or pees, or hate, or love,

Al is this reuled by the sighte above.

This mene I now by myghty Theseus,

That for to hunten is so desirus,

And namely at the grete hert in May,

That in his bed ther daweth hym no day

That he nys clad, and redy for to ryde

With hunte and horn and houndes hym bisyde.

For in his huntyng hath he swich delit

1680 That it is al his joye and appetit

To been hymself the grete hertes bane,

For after Mars he serveth now Dyane.

Cleer was the day, as I have toold er this,

And Theseus with alle joye and blis,

With his Ypolita, the faire queene,

And Emelye, clothed al in grene,

On huntyng be they riden roially.

And to the grove that stood ful faste by,

In which ther was an hert, as men hym tolde,

1690 Duc Theseus the streighte wey hath holde.

And to the launde he rideth hym ful right,

For thider was the hert wont have his flight,

And over a brook, and so forth on his weye.

This duc wol han a cours at hym or tweye

With houndes swiche as that hym list comaunde.

And whan this duc was come unto the launde,

Under the sonne he looketh, and anon

He was war of Arcite and Palamon,

That foughten breme as it were bores two.

1700 The brighte swerdes wenten to and fro

So hidously that with the leeste strook

It semed as it wolde felle an ook.

But what they were, no thyng he ne woot.

This duc his courser with his spores smoot,

And at a stert he was bitwix hem two,

And pulled out a swerd and cride, "Hoo!

Namoore, up peyne of lesynge of youre heed!

By myghty Mars, he shal anon be deed

That smyteth any strook that I may seen.

1710 But telleth me what myster men ye been,

That been so hardy for to fighten heere

Withouten juge or oother officere,

As it were in a lystes roially."

This Palamon answerde hastily

And seyde, "Sire, what nedeth wordes mo?

We have the deeth disserved bothe two.

Two woful wrecches been we, two caytyves,

That been encombred of oure owene lyves;

And as thou art a rightful lord and juge,

1720 Ne yif us neither mercy ne refuge,

But sle me first, for seinte charitee!

But sle my felawe eek as wel as me;

Or sle hym first, for though thow knowest it lite,

This is thy mortal foo, this is Arcite,

That fro thy lond is banysshed on his heed,

For which he hath deserved to be deed.

For this is he that cam unto thy gate

And seyde that he highte Philostrate.

Thus hath he japed thee ful many a yer,

1730 And thou hast maked hym thy chief squier;

And this is he that loveth Emelye.

For sith the day is come that I shal dye,

I make pleynly my confessioun

That I am thilke woful Palamoun

That hath thy prisoun broken wikkedly.

I am thy mortal foo, and it am I

That loveth so hoote Emelye the brighte

That I wol dye present in hir sighte.

Wherfore I axe deeth and my juwise;

1740 But sle my felawe in the same wise,

For bothe han we deserved to be slayn."

This worthy duc answerde anon agayn,

And seyde, "This is a short conclusioun.

Youre owene mouth, by youre confessioun,

Hath dampned yow, and I wol it recorde;

It nedeth noght to pyne yow with the corde.

Ye shal be deed, by myghty Mars the rede!"

The queene anon, for verray wommanhede,

Gan for to wepe, and so dide Emelye,

1750 And alle the ladyes in the compaignye.

Greet pitee was it, as it thoughte hem alle,

That evere swich a chaunce sholde falle,

For gentil men they were of greet estaat,

And no thyng but for love was this debaat;

And saugh hir blody woundes wyde and soore,

And alle crieden, bothe lasse and moore,

"Have mercy, Lord, upon us wommen alle!"

And on hir bare knees adoun they falle

And wolde have kist his feet ther as he stood;

1760 Til at the laste aslaked was his mood,

For pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.

And though he first for ire quook and sterte,

He hath considered shortly, in a clause,

The trespas of hem bothe, and eek the cause,

And although that his ire hir gilt accused,

Yet in his resoun he hem bothe excused,

As thus: he thoghte wel that every man

Wol helpe hymself in love, if that he kan,

And eek delivere hymself out of prisoun.

1770 And eek his herte hadde compassioun

Of wommen, for they wepen evere in oon,

And in his gentil herte he thoughte anon,

And softe unto hymself he seyde, "Fy

Upon a lord that wol have no mercy,

But been a leon, bothe in word and dede,

To hem that been in repentaunce and drede,

As wel as to a proud despitous man

That wol mayntene that he first bigan.

That lord hath litel of discrecioun,

1780 That in swich cas kan no divisioun

But weyeth pride and humblesse after oon."

And shortly, whan his ire is thus agoon,

He gan to looken up with eyen lighte

And spak thise same wordes al on highte:

"The god of love, a benedicite!

How myghty and how greet a lord is he!

Ayeyns his myght ther gayneth none obstacles.

He may be cleped a god for his myracles,

For he kan maken, at his owene gyse,

1790 Of everich herte as that hym list divyse.

Lo heere this Arcite and this Palamoun,

That quitly weren out of my prisoun,

And myghte han lyved in Thebes roially,

And witen I am hir mortal enemy,

And that hir deth lith in my myght also,

And yet hath love, maugree hir eyen two,

Broght hem hyder bothe for to dye.

Now looketh, is nat that an heigh folye?

Who may been a fool but if he love?

1800 Bihoold, for Goddes sake that sit above,

Se how they blede! Be they noght wel arrayed?

Thus hath hir lord, the god of love, ypayed

Hir wages and hir fees for hir servyse!

And yet they wenen for to been ful wyse

That serven love, for aught that may bifalle.

But this is yet the beste game of alle,

That she for whom they han this jolitee

Kan hem therfore as muche thank as me.

She woot namoore of al this hoote fare,

1810 By God, than woot a cokkow or an hare!

But all moot ben assayed, hoot and coold;

A man moot ben a fool, or yong or oold --

I woot it by myself ful yore agon,

For in my tyme a servant was I oon.

And therfore, syn I knowe of loves peyne

And woot hou soore it kan a man distreyne,

As he that hath ben caught ofte in his laas,

I yow foryeve al hoolly this trespaas,

At requeste of the queene, that kneleth heere,

1820 And eek of Emelye, my suster deere.

And ye shul bothe anon unto me swere

That nevere mo ye shal my contree dere,

Ne make werre upon me nyght ne day,

But been my freendes in all that ye may.

I yow foryeve this trespas every deel."

And they hym sworen his axyng faire and weel,

And hym of lordshipe and of mercy preyde,

And he hem graunteth grace, and thus he seyde:

"To speke of roial lynage and richesse,

1830 Though that she were a queene or a princesse,

Ech of you bothe is worthy, doutelees,

To wedden whan tyme is; but nathelees --

I speke as for my suster Emelye,

For whom ye have this strif and jalousye --

Ye woot yourself she may nat wedden two

Atones, though ye fighten everemo,

That oon of you, al be hym looth or lief,

He moot go pipen in an yvy leef;

This is to seyn, she may nat now han bothe,

1840 Al be ye never so jalouse ne so wrothe.

And forthy I yow putte in this degree,

That ech of yow shal have his destynee

As hym is shape, and herkneth in what wyse;

Lo, heere youre ende of that I shal devyse.

My wyl is this, for plat conclusioun,

Withouten any repplicacioun --

If that you liketh, take it for the beste:

That everich of you shal goon where hym leste

Frely, withouten raunson or daunger,

1850 And this day fifty wykes, fer ne ner,

Everich of you shal brynge an hundred knyghtes

Armed for lystes up at alle rightes,

Al redy to darreyne hire by bataille.

And this bihote I yow withouten faille,

Upon my trouthe, and as I am a knyght,

That wheither of yow bothe that hath myght --

This is to seyn, that wheither he or thow

May with his hundred, as I spak of now,

Sleen his contrarie, or out of lystes dryve,

1860 Thanne shal I yeve Emelya to wyve

To whom that Fortune yeveth so fair a grace.

The lystes shal I maken in this place,

And God so wisly on my soule rewe

As I shal evene juge been and trewe.

Ye shul noon oother ende with me maken,

That oon of yow ne shal be deed or taken.

And if yow thynketh this is weel ysayd,

Seyeth youre avys, and holdeth you apayd.

This is youre ende and youre conclusioun."

1870 Who looketh lightly now but Palamoun?

Who spryngeth up for joye but Arcite?

Who kouthe telle, or who kouthe it endite,

The joye that is maked in the place

Whan Theseus hath doon so fair a grace?

But doun on knees wente every maner wight,

And thonked hym with al hir herte and myght,

And namely the Thebans often sithe.

And thus with good hope and with herte blithe

They taken hir leve, and homward gonne they ride

1880 To Thebes with his olde walles wyde.

I trowe men wolde deme it necligence

If I foryete to tellen the dispence

Of Theseus, that gooth so bisily

To maken up the lystes roially,

That swich a noble theatre as it was

I dar wel seyen in this world ther nas.

The circuit a myle was aboute,

Walled of stoon, and dyched al withoute.

Round was the shap, in manere of compas,

1890 Ful of degrees, the heighte of sixty pas,

That whan a man was set on o degree,

He letted nat his felawe for to see.

Estward ther stood a gate of marbul whit,

Westward right swich another in the opposit.

And shortly to concluden, swich a place

Was noon in erthe, as in so litel space;

For in the lond ther was no crafty man

That geometrie or ars-metrike kan,

Ne portreyour, ne kervere of ymages,

1900 That Theseus ne yaf him mete and wages

The theatre for to maken and devyse.

And for to doon his ryte and sacrifise,

He estward hath, upon the gate above,

In worshipe of Venus, goddesse of love,

Doon make an auter and an oratorie;

And on the gate westward, in memorie

Of Mars, he maked hath right swich another,

That coste largely of gold a fother.

And northward, in a touret on the wal,

1910 Of alabastre whit and reed coral,

An oratorie, riche for to see,

In worshipe of Dyane of chastitee,

Hath Theseus doon wroght in noble wyse.

But yet hadde I foryeten to devyse

The noble kervyng and the portreitures,

The shap, the contenaunce, and the figures

That weren in thise oratories thre.

First in the temple of Venus maystow se

Wroght on the wal, ful pitous to biholde,

1920 The broken slepes, and the sikes colde,

The sacred teeris, and the waymentynge,

The firy strokes of the desirynge

That loves servantz in this lyf enduren;

The othes that hir covenantz assuren;

Plesaunce and Hope, Desir, Foolhardynesse,

Beautee and Youthe, Bauderie, Richesse,

Charmes and Force, Lesynges, Flaterye,

Despense, Bisynesse, and Jalousye,

That wered of yelewe gooldes a gerland,

1930 And a cokkow sittynge on hir hand;

Festes, instrumentz, caroles, daunces,

Lust and array, and alle the circumstaunces

Of love, which that I rekned and rekne shal,

By ordre weren peynted on the wal,

And mo than I kan make of mencioun.

For soothly al the mount of Citheroun,

Ther Venus hath hir principal dwellynge,

Was shewed on the wal in portreyynge,

With al the gardyn and the lustynesse.

1940 Nat was foryeten the porter, Ydelnesse,

Ne Narcisus the faire of yore agon,

Ne yet the folye of kyng Salomon,

Ne yet the grete strengthe of Ercules --

Th' enchauntementz of Medea and Circes --

Ne of Turnus, with the hardy fiers corage,

The riche Cresus, kaytyf in servage.

Thus may ye seen that wysdom ne richesse,

Beautee ne sleighte, strengthe ne hardynesse,

Ne may with Venus holde champartie,

1950 For as hir list the world than may she gye.

Lo, alle thise folk so caught were in hir las,

Til they for wo ful ofte seyde "allas!"

Suffiseth heere ensamples oon or two,

And though I koude rekene a thousand mo.

The statue of Venus, glorious for to se,

Was naked, fletynge in the large see,

And fro the navele doun al covered was

With wawes grene, and brighte as any glas.

A citole in hir right hand hadde she,

1960 And on hir heed, ful semely for to se,

A rose gerland, fressh and wel smellynge;

Above hir heed hir dowves flikerynge.

Biforn hire stood hir sone Cupido;

Upon his shuldres wynges hadde he two,

And blynd he was, as it is often seene;

A bowe he bar and arwes brighte and kene.

Why sholde I noght as wel eek telle yow al

The portreiture that was upon the wal

Withinne the temple of myghty Mars the rede?

1970 Al peynted was the wal, in lengthe and brede,

Lyk to the estres of the grisly place

That highte the grete temple of Mars in Trace,

In thilke colde, frosty regioun

Ther as Mars hath his sovereyn mansioun.

First on the wal was peynted a forest,

In which ther dwelleth neither man ne best,

With knotty, knarry, bareyne trees olde,

Of stubbes sharpe and hidouse to biholde,

In which ther ran a rumbel in a swough,

1980 As though a storm sholde bresten every bough.

And dounward from an hille, under a bente,

Ther stood the temple of Mars armypotente,

Wroght al of burned steel, of which the entree

Was long and streit, and gastly for to see.

And therout came a rage and swich a veze

That it made al the gate for to rese.

The northren lyght in at the dores shoon,

For wyndowe on the wal ne was ther noon,

Thurgh which men myghten any light discerne.

1990 The dore was al of adamant eterne,

Yclenched overthwart and endelong

With iren tough; and for to make it strong,

Every pyler, the temple to sustene,

Was tonne-greet, of iren bright and shene.

Ther saugh I first the derke ymaginyng

Of Felonye, and al the compassyng;

The crueel Ire, reed as any gleede;

The pykepurs, and eek the pale Drede;

The smylere with the knyf under the cloke;

2000 The shepne brennynge with the blake smoke;

The tresoun of the mordrynge in the bedde;

The open werre, with woundes al bibledde;

Contek, with blody knyf and sharp manace.

Al ful of chirkyng was that sory place.

The sleere of hymself yet saugh I ther --

His herte-blood hath bathed al his heer --

The nayl ydryven in the shode anyght;

The colde deeth, with mouth gapyng upright.

Amyddes of the temple sat Meschaunce,

2010 With disconfort and sory contenaunce.

Yet saugh I Woodnesse, laughynge in his rage,

Armed Compleint, Outhees, and fiers Outrage;

The careyne in the busk, with throte ycorve;

A thousand slayn, and nat of qualm ystorve;

The tiraunt, with the pray by force yraft;

The toun destroyed, ther was no thyng laft.

Yet saugh I brent the shippes hoppesteres;

The hunte strangled with the wilde beres;

The sowe freten the child right in the cradel;

2020 The cook yscalded, for al his longe ladel.

Noght was foryeten by the infortune of Marte.

The cartere overryden with his carte --

Under the wheel ful lowe he lay adoun.

Ther were also, of Martes divisioun,

The barbour, and the bocher, and the smyth,

That forgeth sharpe swerdes on his styth.

And al above, depeynted in a tour,

Saugh I Conquest, sittynge in greet honour,

With the sharpe swerd over his heed

2030 Hangynge by a soutil twynes threed.

Depeynted was the slaughtre of Julius,

Of grete Nero, and of Antonius;

Al be that thilke tyme they were unborn,

Yet was hir deth depeynted ther-biforn

By manasynge of Mars, right by figure;

So was it shewed in that portreiture,

As is depeynted in the sterres above

Who shal be slayn or elles deed for love.

Suffiseth oon ensample in stories olde;

2040 I may nat rekene hem alle though I wolde.

The statue of Mars upon a carte stood

Armed, and looked grym as he were wood;

And over his heed ther shynen two figures

Of sterres, that been cleped in scriptures,

That oon Puella, that oother Rubeus --

This god of armes was arrayed thus.

A wolf ther stood biforn hym at his feet

With eyen rede, and of a man he eet;

With soutil pencel was depeynted this storie

2050 In redoutynge of Mars and of his glorie.

Now to the temple of Dyane the chaste,

As shortly as I kan, I wol me haste,

To telle yow al the descripsioun.

Depeynted been the walles up and doun

Of huntyng and of shamefast chastitee.

Ther saugh I how woful Calistopee,

Whan that Diane agreved was with here,

Was turned from a womman til a bere,

And after was she maad the loode-sterre.

2060 Thus was it peynted; I kan sey yow no ferre.

Hir sone is eek a sterre, as men may see.

Ther saugh I Dane, yturned til a tree --

I mene nat the goddesse Diane,

But Penneus doghter, which that highte Dane.

Ther saugh I Attheon an hert ymaked,

For vengeaunce that he saugh Diane al naked;

I saugh how that his houndes have hym caught

And freeten hym, for that they knewe hym naught.

Yet peynted was a litel forther moor

2070 How Atthalante hunted the wilde boor,

And Meleagre, and many another mo,

For which Dyane wroghte hym care and wo.

Ther saugh I many another wonder storie,

The which me list nat drawen to memorie.

This goddesse on an hert ful hye seet,

With smale houndes al aboute hir feet,

And undernethe hir feet she hadde a moone --

Wexynge it was and sholde wanye soone.

In gaude grene hir statue clothed was,

2080 With bowe in honde and arwes in a cas.

Hir eyen caste she ful lowe adoun

Ther Pluto hath his derke regioun.

A womman travaillynge was hire biforn;

But for hir child so longe was unborn,

Ful pitously Lucyna gan she calle

And seyde, "Help, for thou mayst best of alle!"

Wel koude he peynten lifly that it wroghte;

With many a floryn he the hewes boghte.

Now been thise lystes maad, and Theseus,

2090 That at his grete cost arrayed thus

The temples and the theatre every deel,

Whan it was doon, hym lyked wonder weel.

But stynte I wole of Theseus a lite,

And speke of Palamon and of Arcite.

The day approcheth of hir retournynge,

That everich sholde an hundred knyghtes brynge

The bataille to darreyne, as I yow tolde.

And til Atthenes, hir covenant for to holde,

Hath everich of hem broght an hundred knyghtes,

2100 Wel armed for the werre at alle rightes.

And sikerly ther trowed many a man

That nevere, sithen that the world bigan,

As for to speke of knyghthod of hir hond,

As fer as God hath maked see or lond,

Nas of so fewe so noble a compaignye.

For every wight that lovede chivalrye

And wolde, his thankes, han a passant name,

Hath preyed that he myghte been of that game;

And wel was hym that therto chosen was,

2110 For if ther fille tomorwe swich a cas,

Ye knowen wel that every lusty knyght

That loveth paramours and hath his myght,

Were it in Engelond or elleswhere,

They wolde, hir thankes, wilnen to be there --

To fighte for a lady, benedicitee!

It were a lusty sighte for to see.

And right so ferden they with Palamon.

With hym ther wenten knyghtes many on;

Som wol ben armed in an haubergeoun,

2120 And in a brestplate and a light gypoun;

And som wol have a paire plates large;

And som wol have a Pruce sheeld or a targe;

Som wol ben armed on his legges weel,

And have an ax, and som a mace of steel --

Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.

Armed were they, as I have yow told,

Everych after his opinioun.

Ther maistow seen, comynge with Palamoun,

Lygurge hymself, the grete kyng of Trace.

2130 Blak was his berd, and manly was his face;

The cercles of his eyen in his heed,

They gloweden bitwixen yelow and reed,

And lik a grifphon looked he aboute,

With kempe heeris on his browes stoute;

His lymes grete, his brawnes harde and stronge,

His shuldres brode, his armes rounde and longe;

And as the gyse was in his contree,

Ful hye upon a chaar of gold stood he,

With foure white boles in the trays.

2140 In stede of cote-armure over his harnays,

With nayles yelewe and brighte as any gold,

He hadde a beres skyn, col-blak for old.

His longe heer was kembd bihynde his bak;

As any ravenes fethere it shoon for blak;

A wrethe of gold, arm-greet, of huge wighte,

Upon his heed, set ful of stones brighte,

Of fyne rubyes and of dyamauntz.

Aboute his chaar ther wenten white alauntz,

Twenty and mo, as grete as any steer,

2150 To hunten at the leoun or the deer,

And folwed hym with mosel faste ybounde,

Colered of gold, and tourettes fyled rounde.

An hundred lordes hadde he in his route,

Armed ful wel, with hertes stierne and stoute.

With Arcita, in stories as men fynde,

The grete Emetreus, the kyng of Inde,

Upon a steede bay trapped in steel,

Covered in clooth of gold, dyapred weel,

Cam ridynge lyk the god of armes, Mars.

2160 His cote-armure was of clooth of Tars

Couched with perles white and rounde and grete;

His sadel was of brend gold newe ybete;

A mantelet upon his shulder hangynge,

Bret-ful of rubyes rede as fyr sparklynge;

His crispe heer lyk rynges was yronne,

And that was yelow, and glytered as the sonne.

His nose was heigh, his eyen bright citryn,

His lippes rounde, his colour was sangwyn;

A fewe frakenes in his face yspreynd,

2170 Bitwixen yelow and somdel blak ymeynd;

And as a leon he his lookyng caste.

Of fyve and twenty yeer his age I caste.

His berd was wel bigonne for to sprynge;

His voys was as a trompe thonderynge.

Upon his heed he wered of laurer grene

A gerland, fressh and lusty for to sene.

Upon his hand he bar for his deduyt

An egle tame, as any lilye whyt.

An hundred lordes hadde he with hym there,

2180 Al armed, save hir heddes, in al hir gere,

Ful richely in alle maner thynges.

For trusteth wel that dukes, erles, kynges

Were gadered in this noble compaignye,

For love and for encrees of chivalrye.

Aboute this kyng ther ran on every part

Ful many a tame leon and leopart.

And in this wise thise lordes, alle and some,

Been on the Sonday to the citee come

Aboute pryme, and in the toun alight.

2190 This Theseus, this duc, this worthy knyght,

Whan he had broght hem into his citee,

And inned hem, everich at his degree,

He festeth hem, and dooth so greet labour

To esen hem and doon hem al honour

That yet men wenen that no mannes wit

Of noon estaat ne koude amenden it.

The mynstralcye, the service at the feeste,

The grete yiftes to the meeste and leeste,

The riche array of Theseus paleys,

2200 Ne who sat first ne last upon the deys,

What ladyes fairest been or best daunsynge,

Or which of hem kan dauncen best and synge,

Ne who moost felyngly speketh of love;

What haukes sitten on the perche above,

What houndes liggen on the floor adoun --

Of al this make I now no mencioun,

But al th' effect; that thynketh me the beste.

Now cometh the point, and herkneth if yow leste.

The Sonday nyght, er day bigan to sprynge,

2210 Whan Palamon the larke herde synge

(Although it nere nat day by houres two,

Yet song the larke) and Palamon right tho

With hooly herte and with an heigh corage,

He roos to wenden on his pilgrymage

Unto the blisful Citherea benigne --

I mene Venus, honurable and digne.

And in hir houre he walketh forth a pas

Unto the lystes ther hire temple was,

And doun he kneleth, and with humble cheere

2220 And herte soor he seyde as ye shal heere:

"Faireste of faire, O lady myn, Venus,

Doughter to Jove and spouse of Vulcanus,

Thow gladere of the mount of Citheron,

For thilke love thow haddest to Adoon,

Have pitee of my bittre teeris smerte,

And taak myn humble preyere at thyn herte.

Allas! I ne have no langage to telle

Th' effectes ne the tormentz of myn helle;

Myn herte may myne harmes nat biwreye;

2230 I am so confus that I kan noght seye

But `Mercy, lady bright, that knowest weele

My thought and seest what harmes that I feele!'

Considere al this and rewe upon my soore,

As wisly as I shal for everemoore,

Emforth my myght, thy trewe servant be,

And holden werre alwey with chastitee.

That make I myn avow, so ye me helpe!

I kepe noght of armes for to yelpe,

Ne I ne axe nat tomorwe to have victorie,

2240 Ne renoun in this cas, ne veyne glorie

Of pris of armes blowen up and doun;

But I wolde have fully possessioun

Of Emelye, and dye in thy servyse.

Fynd thow the manere hou and in what wyse:

I recche nat but it may bettre be

To have victorie of hem, or they of me,

So that I have my lady in myne armes.

For though so be that Mars is god of armes,

Youre vertu is so greet in hevene above

2250 That if yow list, I shal wel have my love.

Thy temple wol I worshipe everemo,

And on thyn auter, where I ride or go,

I wol doon sacrifice and fires beete.

And if ye wol nat so, my lady sweete,

Thanne preye I thee, tomorwe with a spere

That Arcita me thurgh the herte bere.

Thanne rekke I noght, whan I have lost my lyf,

Though that Arcita wynne hire to his wyf.

This is th' effect and ende of my preyere:

2260 Yif me my love, thow blisful lady deere."

Whan the orison was doon of Palamon,

His sacrifice he dide, and that anon,

Ful pitously, with alle circumstaunces,

Al telle I noght as now his observaunces;

But atte laste the statue of Venus shook,

And made a signe, wherby that he took

That his preyere accepted was that day.

For thogh the signe shewed a delay,

Yet wiste he wel that graunted was his boone,

2270 And with glad herte he wente hym hoom ful soone.

The thridde houre inequal that Palamon

Bigan to Venus temple for to gon,

Up roos the sonne, and up roos Emelye

And to the temple of Dyane gan hye.

Hir maydens, that she thider with hire ladde,

Ful redily with hem the fyr they hadde,

Th' encens, the clothes, and the remenant al

That to the sacrifice longen shal;

The hornes fulle of meeth, as was the gyse --

2280 Ther lakked noght to doon hir sacrifise.

Smokynge the temple, ful of clothes faire,

This Emelye, with herte debonaire,

Hir body wessh with water of a welle.

But hou she dide hir ryte I dar nat telle,

But it be any thing in general;

And yet it were a game to heeren al.

To hym that meneth wel it were no charge;

But it is good a man been at his large.

Hir brighte heer was kembd, untressed al;

2290 A coroune of a grene ook cerial

Upon hir heed was set ful fair and meete.

Two fyres on the auter gan she beete,

And dide hir thynges, as men may biholde

In Stace of Thebes and thise bookes olde.

Whan kyndled was the fyr, with pitous cheere

Unto Dyane she spak as ye may heere:

"O chaste goddesse of the wodes grene,

To whom bothe hevene and erthe and see is sene,

Queene of the regne of Pluto derk and lowe,

2300 Goddesse of maydens, that myn herte hast knowe

Ful many a yeer, and woost what I desire,

As keepe me fro thy vengeaunce and thyn ire,

That Attheon aboughte cruelly.

Chaste goddesse, wel wostow that I

Desire to ben a mayden al my lyf,

Ne nevere wol I be no love ne wyf.

I am, thow woost, yet of thy compaignye,

A mayde, and love huntynge and venerye,

And for to walken in the wodes wilde,

2310 And noght to ben a wyf and be with childe.

Noght wol I knowe compaignye of man.

Now help me, lady, sith ye may and kan,

For tho thre formes that thou hast in thee.

And Palamon, that hath swich love to me,

And eek Arcite, that loveth me so soore,

This grace I preye thee withoute moore,

As sende love and pees bitwixe hem two,

And fro me turne awey hir hertes so

That al hire hoote love and hir desir,

2320 And al hir bisy torment, and hir fir

Be queynt, or turned in another place.

And if so be thou wolt nat do me grace,

Or if my destynee be shapen so

That I shal nedes have oon of hem two,

As sende me hym that moost desireth me.

Bihoold, goddesse of clene chastitee,

The bittre teeris that on my chekes falle.

Syn thou art mayde and kepere of us alle,

My maydenhede thou kepe and wel conserve,

2330 And whil I lyve, a mayde I wol thee serve."

The fires brenne upon the auter cleere,

Whil Emelye was thus in hir preyere.

But sodeynly she saugh a sighte queynte,

For right anon oon of the fyres queynte

And quyked agayn, and after that anon

That oother fyr was queynt and al agon;

And as it queynte it made a whistelynge,

As doon thise wete brondes in hir brennynge,

And at the brondes ende out ran anon

2340 As it were blody dropes many oon;

For which so soore agast was Emelye

That she was wel ny mad and gan to crye,

For she ne wiste what it signyfied,

But oonly for the feere thus hath she cried,

And weep that it was pitee for to heere.

And therwithal Dyane gan appeere,

With bowe in honde, right as an hunteresse,

And seyde, "Doghter, stynt thyn hevynesse.

Among the goddes hye it is affermed,

2350 And by eterne word writen and confermed,

Thou shalt ben wedded unto oon of tho

That han for thee so muchel care and wo,

But unto which of hem I may nat telle.

Farwel, for I ne may no lenger dwelle.

The fires which that on myn auter brenne

Shulle thee declaren, er that thou go henne,

Thyn aventure of love, as in this cas."

And with that word, the arwes in the caas

Of the goddesse clateren faste and rynge,

2360 And forth she wente and made a vanysshynge;

For which this Emelye astoned was,

And seyde, "What amounteth this, allas?

I putte me in thy proteccioun,

Dyane, and in thy disposicioun."

And hoom she goth anon the nexte weye.

This is th' effect; ther is namoore to seye.

The nexte houre of Mars folwynge this,

Arcite unto the temple walked is

Of fierse Mars to doon his sacrifise,

2370 With alle the rytes of his payen wyse.

With pitous herte and heigh devocioun,

Right thus to Mars he seyde his orisoun:

"O stronge god, that in the regnes colde

Of Trace honoured art and lord yholde,

And hast in every regne and every lond

Of armes al the brydel in thyn hond,

And hem fortunest as thee lyst devyse,

Accepte of me my pitous sacrifise.

If so be that my youthe may deserve,

2380 And that my myght be worthy for to serve

Thy godhede, that I may been oon of thyne,

Thanne preye I thee to rewe upon my pyne.

For thilke peyne and thilke hoote fir

In which thow whilom brendest for desir,

Whan that thow usedest the beautee

Of faire, yonge, fresshe Venus free,

And haddest hire in armes at thy wille --

Although thee ones on a tyme mysfille,

Whan Vulcanus hadde caught thee in his las

2390 And foond thee liggynge by his wyf, allas! --

For thilke sorwe that was in thyn herte,

Have routhe as wel upon my peynes smerte.

I am yong and unkonnynge, as thow woost,

And, as I trowe, with love offended moost

That evere was any lyves creature,

For she that dooth me al this wo endure

Ne reccheth nevere wher I synke or fleete.

And wel I woot, er she me mercy heete,

I moot with strengthe wynne hire in the place,

2400 And wel I woot, withouten help or grace

Of thee ne may my strengthe noght availle.

Thanne help me, lord, tomorwe in my bataille,

For thilke fyr that whilom brente thee,

As wel as thilke fyr now brenneth me,

And do that I tomorwe have victorie.

Myn be the travaille, and thyn be the glorie!

Thy sovereyn temple wol I moost honouren

Of any place, and alwey moost labouren

In thy plesaunce and in thy craftes stronge,

2410 And in thy temple I wol my baner honge

And alle the armes of my compaignye,

And everemo, unto that day I dye,

Eterne fir I wol bifore thee fynde.

And eek to this avow I wol me bynde:

My beerd, myn heer, that hongeth long adoun,

That nevere yet ne felte offensioun

Of rasour nor of shere, I wol thee yive,

And ben thy trewe servant whil I lyve.

Now, lord, have routhe upon my sorwes soore;

2420 Yif me [victorie]; I aske thee namoore."

The preyere stynt of Arcita the stronge,

The rynges on the temple dore that honge,

And eek the dores, clatereden ful faste,

Of which Arcita somwhat hym agaste.

The fyres brenden upon the auter brighte

That it gan al the temple for to lighte;

A sweete smel the ground anon up yaf,

And Arcita anon his hand up haf,

And moore encens into the fyr he caste,

2430 With othere rytes mo; and atte laste

The statue of Mars bigan his hauberk rynge,

And with that soun he herde a murmurynge

Ful lowe and dym, and seyde thus, "Victorie!"

For which he yaf to Mars honour and glorie.

And thus with joye and hope wel to fare

Arcite anon unto his in is fare,

As fayn as fowel is of the brighte sonne.

And right anon swich strif ther is bigonne,

For thilke grauntyng, in the hevene above,

2440 Bitwixe Venus, the goddesse of love,

And Mars, the stierne god armypotente,

That Juppiter was bisy it to stente,

Til that the pale Saturnus the colde,

That knew so manye of aventures olde,

Foond in his olde experience an art

That he ful soone hath plesed every part.

As sooth is seyd, elde hath greet avantage;

In elde is bothe wysdom and usage;

Men may the olde atrenne and noght atrede.

2450 Saturne anon, to stynten strif and drede,

Al be it that it is agayn his kynde,

Of al this strif he gan remedie fynde.

"My deere doghter Venus," quod Saturne,

"My cours, that hath so wyde for to turne,

Hath moore power than woot any man.

Myn is the drenchyng in the see so wan;

Myn is the prison in the derke cote;

Myn is the stranglyng and hangyng by the throte,

The murmure and the cherles rebellyng,

2460 The groynynge, and the pryvee empoysonyng;

I do vengeance and pleyn correccioun,

Whil I dwelle in the signe of the leoun.

Myn is the ruyne of the hye halles,

The fallynge of the toures and of the walles

Upon the mynour or the carpenter.

I slow Sampsoun, shakynge the piler;

And myne be the maladyes colde,

The derke tresons, and the castes olde;

My lookyng is the fader of pestilence.

2470 Now weep namoore; I shal doon diligence

That Palamon, that is thyn owene knyght,

Shal have his lady, as thou hast him hight.

Though Mars shal helpe his knyght, yet nathelees

Bitwixe yow ther moot be som tyme pees,

Al be ye noght of o compleccioun,

That causeth al day swich divisioun.

I am thyn aiel, redy at thy wille;

Weep now namoore; I wol thy lust fulfille."

Now wol I stynten of the goddes above,

2480 Of Mars, and of Venus, goddesse of love,

And telle yow as pleynly as I kan

The grete effect, for which that I bygan.

Greet was the feeste in Atthenes that day,

And eek the lusty seson of that May

Made every wight to been in swich plesaunce

That al that Monday justen they and daunce,

And spenden it in Venus heigh servyse.

But by the cause that they sholde ryse

Eerly, for to seen the grete fight,

2490 Unto hir reste wenten they at nyght.

And on the morwe, whan that day gan sprynge,

Of hors and harneys noyse and claterynge

Ther was in hostelryes al aboute,

And to the paleys rood ther many a route

Of lordes upon steedes and palfreys.

Ther maystow seen devisynge of harneys

So unkouth and so riche, and wroght so weel

Of goldsmythrye, of browdynge, and of steel;

The sheeldes brighte, testeres, and trappures,

2500 Gold-hewen helmes, hauberkes, cote-armures;

Lordes in parementz on hir courseres,

Knyghtes of retenue, and eek squieres

Nailynge the speres, and helmes bokelynge;

Giggynge of sheeldes, with layneres lacynge --

There as nede is they weren no thyng ydel;

The fomy steedes on the golden brydel

Gnawynge, and faste the armurers also

With fyle and hamer prikynge to and fro;

Yemen on foote, and communes many oon

2510 With shorte staves, thikke as they may goon;

Pypes, trompes, nakers, clariounes,

That in the bataille blowen blody sounes;

The paleys ful of peple up and doun,

Heere thre, ther ten, holdynge hir questioun,

Dyvynynge of thise Thebane knyghtes two.

Somme seyden thus, somme seyde "it shal be so";

Somme helden with hym with the blake berd,

Somme with the balled, somme with the thikke herd;

Somme seyde he looked grymme, and he wolde fighte:

2520 "He hath a sparth of twenty pound of wighte."

Thus was the halle ful of divynynge,

Longe after that the sonne gan to sprynge.

The grete Theseus, that of his sleep awaked

With mynstralcie and noyse that was maked,

Heeld yet the chambre of his paleys riche

Til that the Thebane knyghtes, bothe yliche

Honured, were into the paleys fet.

Duc Theseus was at a wyndow set,

Arrayed right as he were a god in trone.

2530 The peple preesseth thiderward ful soone

Hym for to seen, and doon heigh reverence,

And eek to herkne his heste and his sentence.

An heraud on a scaffold made an "Oo!"

Til al the noyse of peple was ydo,

And whan he saugh the peple of noyse al stille,

Tho shewed he the myghty dukes wille:

"The lord hath of his heigh discrecioun

Considered that it were destruccioun

To gentil blood to fighten in the gyse

2540 Of mortal bataille now in this emprise.

Wherfore, to shapen that they shal nat dye,

He wol his firste purpos modifye.

No man therfore, up peyne of los of lyf,

No maner shot, ne polax, ne short knyf

Into the lystes sende or thider brynge;

Ne short swerd, for to stoke with poynt bitynge,

No man ne drawe, ne bere it by his syde.

Ne no man shal unto his felawe ryde

But o cours with a sharpe ygrounde spere;

2550 Foyne, if hym list, on foote, hymself to were.

And he that is at meschief shal be take

And noght slayn, but be broght unto the stake

That shal ben ordeyned on either syde;

But thider he shal by force, and there abyde.

And if so falle the chieftayn be take

On outher syde, or elles sleen his make,

No lenger shal the turneiynge laste.

God spede you! Gooth forth and ley on faste!

With long swerd and with mace fighteth youre fille.

2560 Gooth now youre wey; this is the lordes wille."

The voys of peple touchede the hevene,

So loude cride they with murie stevene,

"God save swich a lord, that is so good

He wilneth no destruccion of blood!"

Up goon the trompes and the melodye,

And to the lystes rit the compaignye,

By ordinance, thurghout the citee large,

Hanged with clooth of gold, and nat with sarge.

Ful lik a lord this noble duc gan ryde,

2570 Thise two Thebans upon either syde,

And after rood the queene and Emelye,

And after that another compaignye

Of oon and oother, after hir degree.

And thus they passen thurghout the citee,

And to the lystes come they by tyme.

It nas nat of the day yet fully pryme

Whan set was Theseus ful riche and hye,

Ypolita the queene, and Emelye,

And othere ladys in degrees aboute.

2580 Unto the seetes preesseth al the route.

And westward, thurgh the gates under Marte,

Arcite, and eek the hondred of his parte,

With baner reed is entred right anon;

And in that selve moment Palamon

Is under Venus, estward in the place,

With baner whyt and hardy chiere and face.

In al the world, to seken up and doun,

So evene, withouten variacioun,

Ther nere swiche compaignyes tweye,

2590 For ther was noon so wys that koude seye

That any hadde of oother avauntage

Of worthynesse, ne of estaat, ne age,

So evene were they chosen, for to gesse.

And in two renges faire they hem dresse.

Whan that hir names rad were everichon,

That in hir nombre gyle were ther noon,

Tho were the gates shet, and cried was loude:

"Do now youre devoir, yonge knyghtes proude!"

The heraudes lefte hir prikyng up and doun;

2600 Now ryngen trompes loude and clarioun.

Ther is namoore to seyn, but west and est

In goon the speres ful sadly in arrest;

In gooth the sharpe spore into the syde.

Ther seen men who kan juste and who kan ryde;

Ther shyveren shaftes upon sheeldes thikke;

He feeleth thurgh the herte-spoon the prikke.

Up spryngen speres twenty foot on highte;

Out goon the swerdes as the silver brighte;

The helmes they tohewen and toshrede;

2610 Out brest the blood with stierne stremes rede;

With myghty maces the bones they tobreste.

He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste;

Ther stomblen steedes stronge, and doun gooth al,

He rolleth under foot as dooth a bal;

He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun,

And he hym hurtleth with his hors adoun;

He thurgh the body is hurt and sithen ytake,

Maugree his heed, and broght unto the stake;

As forward was, right there he moste abyde.

2620 Another lad is on that oother syde.

And some tyme dooth hem Theseus to reste,

Hem to refresshe and drynken, if hem leste.

Ful ofte a day han thise Thebanes two

Togydre ymet, and wroght his felawe wo;

Unhorsed hath ech oother of hem tweye.

Ther nas no tygre in the vale of Galgopheye,

Whan that hir whelp is stole whan it is lite,

So crueel on the hunte as is Arcite

For jelous herte upon this Palamon.

2630 Ne in Belmarye ther nys so fel leon,

That hunted is, or for his hunger wood,

Ne of his praye desireth so the blood,

As Palamon to sleen his foo Arcite.

The jelous strokes on hir helmes byte;

Out renneth blood on bothe hir sydes rede.

Som tyme an ende ther is of every dede.

For er the sonne unto the reste wente,

The stronge kyng Emetreus gan hente

This Palamon, as he faught with Arcite,

2640 And made his swerd depe in his flessh to byte,

And by the force of twenty is he take

Unyolden, and ydrawen to the stake.

And in the rescus of this Palamoun

The stronge kyng Lygurge is born adoun,

And kyng Emetreus, for al his strengthe,

Is born out of his sadel a swerdes lengthe,

So hitte him Palamoun er he were take.

But al for noght; he was broght to the stake.

His hardy herte myghte hym helpe naught:

2650 He moste abyde, whan that he was caught,

By force and eek by composicioun.

Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun,

That moot namoore goon agayn to fighte?

And whan that Theseus hadde seyn this sighte,

Unto the folk that foghten thus echon

He cryde, "Hoo! namoore, for it is doon!

I wol be trewe juge, and no partie.

Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelie,

That by his fortune hath hire faire ywonne."

2660 Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne

For joye of this, so loude and heighe withalle

It semed that the lystes sholde falle.

What kan now faire Venus doon above?

What seith she now? What dooth this queene of love,

But wepeth so, for wantynge of hir wille,

Til that hir teeres in the lystes fille?

She seyde, "I am ashamed, doutelees."

Saturnus seyde, "Doghter, hoold thy pees!

Mars hath his wille, his knyght hath al his boone,

2670 And, by myn heed, thow shalt been esed soone."

The trompours, with the loude mynstralcie,

The heraudes, that ful loude yelle and crie,

Been in hire wele for joye of daun Arcite.

But herkneth me, and stynteth noyse a lite,

Which a myracle ther bifel anon.

This fierse Arcite hath of his helm ydon,

And on a courser, for to shewe his face,

He priketh endelong the large place

Lokynge upward upon this Emelye;

2680 And she agayn hym caste a freendlich ye

(For wommen, as to speken in comune,

Thei folwen alle the favour of Fortune)

And was al his chiere, as in his herte.

Out of the ground a furie infernal sterte,

From Pluto sent at requeste of Saturne,

For which his hors for fere gan to turne,

And leep aside, and foundred as he leep;

And er that Arcite may taken keep,

He pighte hym on the pomel of his heed,

2690 That in the place he lay as he were deed,

His brest tobrosten with his sadel-bowe.

As blak he lay as any cole or crowe,

So was the blood yronnen in his face.

Anon he was yborn out of the place,

With herte soor, to Theseus paleys.

Tho was he korven out of his harneys

And in a bed ybrought ful faire and blyve,

For he was yet in memorie and alyve,

And alwey criynge after Emelye.

2700 Duc Theseus, with al his compaignye,

Is comen hoom to Atthenes his citee,

With alle blisse and greet solempnitee.

Al be it that this aventure was falle,

He nolde noght disconforten hem alle.

Men seyde eek that Arcite shal nat dye;

He shal been heeled of his maladye.

And of another thyng they weren as fayn,

That of hem alle was ther noon yslayn,

Al were they soore yhurt, and namely oon,

2710 That with a spere was thirled his brest boon.

To othere woundes and to broken armes

Somme hadden salves, and somme hadden charmes;

Fermacies of herbes, and eek save

They dronken, for they wolde hir lymes have.

For which this noble duc, as he wel kan,

Conforteth and honoureth every man,

And made revel al the longe nyght

Unto the straunge lordes, as was right.

Ne ther was holden no disconfitynge

2720 But as a justes or a tourneiynge;

For soothly ther was no disconfiture.

For fallyng nys nat but an aventure,

Ne to be lad by force unto the stake

Unyolden, and with twenty knyghtes take,

O persone allone, withouten mo,

And haryed forth by arme, foot, and too,

And eke his steede dryven forth with staves

With footmen, bothe yemen and eek knaves --

It nas arretted hym no vileynye;

2730 Ther may no man clepen it cowardye.

For which anon duc Theseus leet crye,

To stynten alle rancour and envye,

The gree as wel of o syde as of oother,

And eyther syde ylik as ootheres brother;

And yaf hem yiftes after hir degree,

And fully heeld a feeste dayes three,

And conveyed the kynges worthily

Out of his toun a journee largely.

And hoom wente every man the righte way.

2740 Ther was namoore but "Fare wel, have good day!"

Of this bataille I wol namoore endite,

But speke of Palamon and of Arcite.

Swelleth the brest of Arcite, and the soore

Encreesseth at his herte moore and moore.

The clothered blood, for any lechecraft,

Corrupteth, and is in his bouk ylaft,

That neither veyne-blood, ne ventusynge,

Ne drynke of herbes may ben his helpynge.

The vertu expulsif, or animal,

2750 Fro thilke vertu cleped natural

Ne may the venym voyden ne expelle.

The pipes of his longes gonne to swelle,

And every lacerte in his brest adoun

Is shent with venym and corrupcioun.

Hym gayneth neither, for to gete his lif,

Vomyt upward, ne dounward laxatif.

Al is tobrosten thilke regioun;

Nature hath now no dominacioun.

And certeinly, ther Nature wol nat wirche,

2760 Fare wel phisik! Go ber the man to chirche!

This al and som, that Arcita moot dye;

For which he sendeth after Emelye,

And Palamon, that was his cosyn deere.

Thanne seyde he thus, as ye shal after heere:

"Naught may the woful spirit in myn herte

Declare o point of alle my sorwes smerte

To yow, my lady, that I love moost,

But I biquethe the servyce of my goost

To yow aboven every creature,

2770 Syn that my lyf may no lenger dure.

Allas, the wo! Allas, the peynes stronge,

That I for yow have suffred, and so longe!

Allas, the deeth! Allas, myn Emelye!

Allas, departynge of oure compaignye!

Allas, myn hertes queene! Allas, my wyf,

Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf!

What is this world? What asketh men to have?

Now with his love, now in his colde grave

Allone, withouten any compaignye.

2780 Fare wel, my sweete foo, myn Emelye!

And softe taak me in youre armes tweye,

For love of God, and herkneth what I seye.

"I have heer with my cosyn Palamon

Had strif and rancour many a day agon

For love of yow, and for my jalousye.

And Juppiter so wys my soule gye,

To speken of a servaunt proprely,

With alle circumstances trewely --

That is to seyen, trouthe, honour, knyghthede,

2790 Wysdom, humblesse, estaat, and heigh kynrede,

Fredom, and al that longeth to that art --

So Juppiter have of my soule part,

As in this world right now ne knowe I non

So worthy to ben loved as Palamon,

That serveth yow, and wol doon al his lyf.

And if that evere ye shul ben a wyf,

Foryet nat Palamon, the gentil man."

And with that word his speche faille gan,

For from his feet up to his brest was come

2800 The coold of deeth, that hadde hym overcome,

And yet mooreover, for in his armes two

The vital strengthe is lost and al ago.

Oonly the intellect, withouten moore,

That dwelled in his herte syk and soore,

Gan faillen whan the herte felte deeth.

Dusked his eyen two, and failled breeth,

But on his lady yet caste he his ye;

His laste word was, "Mercy, Emelye!"

His spirit chaunged hous and wente ther,

2810 As I cam nevere, I kan nat tellen wher.

Therfore I stynte; I nam no divinistre;

Of soules fynde I nat in this registre,

Ne me ne list thilke opinions to telle

Of hem, though that they writen wher they dwelle.

Arcite is coold, ther Mars his soule gye!

Now wol I speken forth of Emelye.

Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon,

And Theseus his suster took anon

Swownynge, and baar hire fro the corps away.

2820 What helpeth it to tarien forth the day

To tellen how she weep bothe eve and morwe?

For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe,

Whan that hir housbondes ben from hem ago,

That for the moore part they sorwen so,

Or ellis fallen in swich maladye

That at the laste certeinly they dye.

Infinite been the sorwes and the teeres

Of olde folk and folk of tendre yeeres

In al the toun for deeth of this Theban.

2830 For hym ther wepeth bothe child and man;

So greet wepyng was ther noon, certayn,

Whan Ector was ybroght, al fressh yslayn,

To Troye. Allas, the pitee that was ther,

Cracchynge of chekes, rentynge eek of heer.

"Why woldestow be deed," thise wommen crye,

"And haddest gold ynough, and Emelye?"

No man myghte gladen Theseus,

Savynge his olde fader Egeus,

That knew this worldes transmutacioun,

2840 As he hadde seyn it chaunge bothe up and doun,

Joye after wo, and wo after gladnesse,

And shewed hem ensamples and liknesse.

"Right as ther dyed nevere man," quod he,

"That he ne lyvede in erthe in some degree,

Right so ther lyvede never man," he seyde,

"In al this world, that som tyme he ne deyde.

This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo,

And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro.

Deeth is an ende of every worldly soore."

2850 And over al this yet seyde he muchel moore

To this effect, ful wisely to enhorte

The peple that they sholde hem reconforte.

Duc Theseus, with al his bisy cure,

Caste now wher that the sepulture

Of goode Arcite may best ymaked be,

And eek moost honurable in his degree.

And at the laste he took conclusioun

That ther as first Arcite and Palamoun

Hadden for love the bataille hem bitwene,

2860 That in that selve grove, swoote and grene,

Ther as he hadde his amorouse desires,

His compleynte, and for love his hoote fires,

He wolde make a fyr in which the office

Funeral he myghte al accomplice.

And leet comande anon to hakke and hewe

The okes olde, and leye hem on a rewe

In colpons wel arrayed for to brenne.

His officers with swifte feet they renne

And ryde anon at his comandement.

2870 And after this, Theseus hath ysent

After a beere, and it al overspradde

With clooth of gold, the richeste that he hadde.

And of the same suyte he cladde Arcite;

Upon his hondes hadde he gloves white,

Eek on his heed a coroune of laurer grene,

And in his hond a swerd ful bright and kene.

He leyde hym, bare the visage, on the beere;

Therwith he weep that pitee was to heere.

And for the peple sholde seen hym alle,

2880 Whan it was day, he broghte hym to the halle,

That roreth of the criyng and the soun.

Tho cam this woful Theban Palamoun,

With flotery berd and ruggy, asshy heeres,

In clothes blake, ydropped al with teeres;

And, passynge othere of wepynge, Emelye,

The rewefulleste of al the compaignye.

In as muche as the servyce sholde be

The moore noble and riche in his degree,

Duc Theseus leet forth thre steedes brynge,

2890 That trapped were in steel al gliterynge,

And covered with the armes of daun Arcite.

Upon thise steedes, that weren grete and white,

Ther seten folk, of whiche oon baar his sheeld,

Another his spere up on his hondes heeld,

The thridde baar with hym his bowe Turkeys

(Of brend gold was the caas and eek the harneys);

And riden forth a paas with sorweful cheere

Toward the grove, as ye shul after heere.

The nobleste of the Grekes that ther were

2900 Upon hir shuldres caryeden the beere,

With slakke paas and eyen rede and wete,

Thurghout the citee by the maister strete,

That sprad was al with blak, and wonder hye

Right of the same is the strete ywrye.

Upon the right hond wente olde Egeus,

And on that oother syde duc Theseus,

With vessels in hir hand of gold ful fyn,

Al ful of hony, milk, and blood, and wyn;

Eek Palamon, with ful greet compaignye;

2910 And after that cam woful Emelye,

With fyr in honde, as was that tyme the gyse,

To do the office of funeral servyse.

Heigh labour and ful greet apparaillynge

Was at the service and the fyr-makynge,

That with his grene top the hevene raughte;

And twenty fadme of brede the armes straughte --

This is to seyn, the bowes weren so brode.

Of stree first ther was leyd ful many a lode.

But how the fyr was maked upon highte,

2920 Ne eek the names that the trees highte,

As ook, firre, birch, aspe, alder, holm, popler,

Wylugh, elm, plane, assh, box, chasteyn, lynde, laurer,

Mapul, thorn, bech, hasel, ew, whippeltree --

How they weren feld shal nat be toold for me;

Ne hou the goddes ronnen up and doun,

Disherited of hire habitacioun,

In which they woneden in reste and pees,

Nymphes, fawnes and amadrides;

Ne hou the beestes and the briddes alle

2930 Fledden for fere, whan the wode was falle;

Ne how the ground agast was of the light,

That was nat wont to seen the sonne bright;

Ne how the fyr was couched first with stree,

And thanne with drye stikkes cloven a thre,

And thanne with grene wode and spicerye,

And thanne with clooth of gold and with perrye,

And gerlandes, hangynge with ful many a flour;

The mirre, th' encens, with al so greet odour;

Ne how Arcite lay among al this,

2940 Ne what richesse aboute his body is;

Ne how that Emelye, as was the gyse,

Putte in the fyr of funeral servyse;

Ne how she swowned whan men made the fyr,

Ne what she spak, ne what was hir desir;

Ne what jeweles men in the fyre caste,

Whan that the fyr was greet and brente faste;

Ne how somme caste hir sheeld, and somme hir spere,

And of hire vestimentz, whiche that they were,

And coppes fulle of wyn, and milk, and blood,

2950 Into the fyr, that brente as it were wood;

Ne how the Grekes, with an huge route,

Thries riden al the fyr aboute

Upon the left hand, with a loud shoutynge,

And thries with hir speres claterynge;

And thries how the ladyes gonne crye;

And how that lad was homward Emelye;

Ne how Arcite is brent to asshen colde;

Ne how that lyche-wake was yholde

Al thilke nyght; ne how the Grekes pleye

2960 The wake-pleyes; ne kepe I nat to seye

Who wrastleth best naked with oille enoynt,

Ne who that baar hym best, in no disjoynt.

I wol nat tellen eek how that they goon

Hoom til Atthenes, whan the pley is doon;

But shortly to the point thanne wol I wende

And maken of my longe tale an ende.

By processe and by lengthe of certeyn yeres,

Al stynted is the moornynge and the teres

Of Grekes, by oon general assent.

2970 Thanne semed me ther was a parlement

At Atthenes, upon certein pointz and caas;

Among the whiche pointz yspoken was,

To have with certein contrees alliaunce,

And have fully of Thebans obeisaunce.

For which this noble Theseus anon

Leet senden after gentil Palamon,

Unwist of hym what was the cause and why,

But in his blake clothes sorwefully

He cam at his comandement in hye.

2980 Tho sente Theseus for Emelye.

Whan they were set, and hust was al the place,

And Theseus abiden hadde a space

Er any word cam fram his wise brest,

His eyen sette he ther as was his lest.

And with a sad visage he siked stille,

And after that right thus he seyde his wille:

"The Firste Moevere of the cause above,

Whan he first made the faire cheyne of love,

Greet was th' effect, and heigh was his entente.

2990 Wel wiste he why, and what thereof he mente,

For with that faire cheyne of love he bond

The fyr, the eyr, the water, and the lond

In certeyn boundes, that they may nat flee.

That same Prince and that Moevere," quod he,

"Hath stablissed in this wrecched world adoun

Certeyne dayes and duracioun

To al that is engendred in this place,

Over the whiche day they may nat pace,

Al mowe they yet tho dayes wel abregge.

3000 Ther nedeth noght noon auctoritee t' allegge,

For it is preeved by experience,

But that me list declaren my sentence.

Thanne may men by this ordre wel discerne

That thilke Moevere stable is and eterne.

Wel may men knowe, but it be a fool,

That every part dirryveth from his hool,

For nature hath nat taken his bigynnyng

Of no partie or cantel of a thyng,

But of a thyng that parfit is and stable,

3010 Descendynge so til it be corrumpable.

And therfore, of his wise purveiaunce,

He hath so wel biset his ordinaunce

That speces of thynges and progressiouns

Shullen enduren by successiouns,

And nat eterne, withouten any lye.

This maystow understonde and seen at ye.

"Loo the ook, that hath so long a norisshynge

From tyme that it first bigynneth to sprynge,

And hath so long a lif, as we may see,

3020 Yet at the laste wasted is the tree.

"Considereth eek how that the harde stoon

Under oure feet, on which we trede and goon,

Yet wasteth it as it lyth by the weye.

The brode ryver somtyme wexeth dreye;

The grete tounes se we wane and wende.

Thanne may ye se that al this thyng hath ende.

"Of man and womman seen we wel also

That nedes, in oon of thise termes two --

This is to seyn, in youthe or elles age --

3030 He moot be deed, the kyng as shal a page;

Som in his bed, som in the depe see,

Som in the large feeld, as men may see;

Ther helpeth noght; al goth that ilke weye.

Thanne may I seyn that al this thyng moot deye.

"What maketh this but Juppiter, the kyng,

That is prince and cause of alle thyng,

Convertynge al unto his propre welle

From which it is dirryved, sooth to telle?

And heer-agayns no creature on lyve,

3040 Of no degree, availleth for to stryve.

"Thanne is it wysdom, as it thynketh me,

To maken vertu of necessitee,

And take it weel that we may nat eschue,

And namely that to us alle is due.

And whoso gruccheth ought, he dooth folye,

And rebel is to hym that al may gye.

And certeinly a man hath moost honour

To dyen in his excellence and flour,

Whan he is siker of his goode name;

3050 Thanne hath he doon his freend, ne hym, no shame.

And gladder oghte his freend been of his deeth,

Whan with honour up yolden is his breeth,

Than whan his name apalled is for age,

For al forgeten is his vassellage.

Thanne is it best, as for a worthy fame,

To dyen whan that he is best of name.

"The contrarie of al this is wilfulnesse.

Why grucchen we, why have we hevynesse,

That goode Arcite, of chivalrie flour,

3060 Departed is with duetee and honour

Out of this foule prisoun of this lyf?

Why grucchen heere his cosyn and his wyf

Of his welfare, that loved hem so weel?

Kan he hem thank? Nay, God woot, never a deel,

That both his soule and eek hemself offende,

And yet they mowe hir lustes nat amende.

"What may I conclude of this longe serye,

But after wo I rede us to be merye

And thanken Juppiter of al his grace?

3070 And er that we departen from this place

I rede that we make of sorwes two

O parfit joye, lastynge everemo.

And looketh now, wher moost sorwe is herinne,

Ther wol we first amenden and bigynne.

"Suster," quod he, "this is my fulle assent,

With al th' avys heere of my parlement,

That gentil Palamon, youre owene knyght,

That serveth yow with wille, herte, and myght,

And ever hath doon syn ye first hym knewe,

3080 That ye shul of youre grace upon hym rewe,

And taken hym for housbonde and for lord.

Lene me youre hond, for this is oure accord.

Lat se now of youre wommanly pitee.

He is a kynges brother sone, pardee;

And though he were a povre bacheler,

Syn he hath served yow so many a yeer,

And had for yow so greet adversitee,

It moste been considered, leeveth me,

For gentil mercy oghte to passen right."

3090 Thanne seyde he thus to Palamon the knight:

"I trowe ther nedeth litel sermonyng

To make yow assente to this thyng.

Com neer, and taak youre lady by the hond."

Bitwixen hem was maad anon the bond

That highte matrimoigne or mariage,

By al the conseil and the baronage.

And thus with alle blisse and melodye

Hath Palamon ywedded Emelye.

And God, that al this wyde world hath wroght,

3100 Sende hym his love that hath it deere aboght;

For now is Palamon in alle wele,

Lyvynge in blisse, in richesse, and in heele,

And Emelye hym loveth so tendrely,

And he hire serveth so gentilly,

That nevere was ther no word hem bitwene

Of jalousie or any oother teene.

Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye;

And God save al this faire compaignye! Amen.

THE MILLER'S PROLOGUE

Whan that the Knyght had thus his tale ytoold,

3110 In al the route nas ther yong ne oold

That he ne seyde it was a noble storie

And worthy for to drawen to memorie,

And namely the gentils everichon.

Oure Hooste lough and swoor, "So moot I gon,

This gooth aright; unbokeled is the male.

Lat se now who shal telle another tale;

For trewely the game is wel bigonne.

Now telleth ye, sir Monk, if that ye konne,

Somwhat to quite with the Knyghtes tale."

3120 The Millere, that for dronken was al pale,

So that unnethe upon his hors he sat,

He nolde avalen neither hood ne hat,

Ne abyde no man for his curteisie,

But in Pilates voys he gan to crie,

And swoor, "By armes, and by blood and bones,

I kan a noble tale for the nones,

With which I wol now quite the Knyghtes tale."

Oure Hooste saugh that he was dronke of ale,

And seyde, "Abyd, Robyn, my leeve brother;

3130 Som bettre man shal telle us first another.

Abyd, and lat us werken thriftily."

"By Goddes soule," quod he, "that wol nat I;

For I wol speke or elles go my wey."

Oure Hoost answerde, "Tel on, a devel wey!

Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome."

"Now herkneth," quod the Millere, "alle and some!

But first I make a protestacioun

That I am dronke; I knowe it by my soun.

And therfore if that I mysspeke or seye,

3140 Wyte it the ale of Southwerk, I you preye.

For I wol telle a legende and a lyf

Bothe of a carpenter and of his wyf,

How that a clerk hath set the wrightes cappe."

The Reve answerde and seyde, "Stynt thy clappe!

Lat be thy lewed dronken harlotrye.

It is a synne and eek a greet folye

To apeyren any man, or hym defame,

And eek to bryngen wyves in swich fame.

Thou mayst ynogh of othere thynges seyn."

3150 This dronke Millere spak ful soone ageyn

And seyde, "Leve brother Osewold,

Who hath no wyf, he is no cokewold.

But I sey nat therfore that thou art oon;

Ther been ful goode wyves many oon,

And evere a thousand goode ayeyns oon badde.

That knowestow wel thyself, but if thou madde.

Why artow angry with my tale now?

I have a wyf, pardee, as wel as thow;

Yet nolde I, for the oxen in my plogh,

3160 Take upon me moore than ynogh,

As demen of myself that I were oon;

I wol bileve wel that I am noon.

An housbonde shal nat been inquisityf

Of Goddes pryvetee, nor of his wyf.

So he may fynde Goddes foyson there,

Of the remenant nedeth nat enquere."

What sholde I moore seyn, but this Millere

He nolde his wordes for no man forbere,

But tolde his cherles tale in his manere.

3170 M' athynketh that I shal reherce it heere.

And therfore every gentil wight I preye,

For Goddes love, demeth nat that I seye

Of yvel entente, but for I moot reherce

Hir tales alle, be they bettre or werse,

Or elles falsen som of my mateere.

And therfore, whoso list it nat yheere,

Turne over the leef and chese another tale;

For he shal fynde ynowe, grete and smale,

Of storial thyng that toucheth gentillesse,

3180 And eek moralitee and hoolynesse.

Blameth nat me if that ye chese amys.

The Millere is a cherl; ye knowe wel this.

So was the Reve eek and othere mo,

And harlotrie they tolden bothe two.

Avyseth yow, and put me out of blame;

And eek men shal nat maken ernest of game.

THE MILLER'S TALE

Whilom ther was dwellynge at Oxenford

A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord,

And of his craft he was a carpenter.

3190 With hym ther was dwellynge a poure scoler,

Hadde lerned art, but al his fantasye

Was turned for to lerne astrologye,

And koude a certeyn of conclusiouns,

To demen by interrogaciouns,

If that men asked hym, in certein houres

Whan that men sholde have droghte or elles shoures,

Or if men asked hym what sholde bifalle

Of every thyng; I may nat rekene hem alle.

This clerk was cleped hende Nicholas.

3200 Of deerne love he koude and of solas;

And therto he was sleigh and ful privee,

And lyk a mayden meke for to see.

A chambre hadde he in that hostelrye

Allone, withouten any compaignye,

Ful fetisly ydight with herbes swoote;

And he hymself as sweete as is the roote

Of lycorys or any cetewale.

His Almageste, and bookes grete and smale,

His astrelabie, longynge for his art,

3210 His augrym stones layen faire apart,

On shelves couched at his beddes heed;

His presse ycovered with a faldyng reed;

And al above ther lay a gay sautrie,

On which he made a-nyghtes melodie

So swetely that all the chambre rong;

And Angelus ad virginem he song;

And after that he song the Kynges Noote.

Ful often blessed was his myrie throte.

And thus this sweete clerk his tyme spente

3220 After his freendes fyndyng and his rente.

This carpenter hadde wedded newe a wyf,

Which that he lovede moore than his lyf;

Of eighteteene yeer she was of age.

Jalous he was, and heeld hire narwe in cage,

For she was wylde and yong, and he was old

And demed hymself been lik a cokewold.

He knew nat Catoun, for his wit was rude,

That bad man sholde wedde his simylitude.

Men sholde wedden after hire estaat,

3230 For youthe and elde is often at debaat.

But sith that he was fallen in the snare,

He moste endure, as oother folk, his care.

Fair was this yonge wyf, and therwithal

As any wezele hir body gent and smal.

A ceynt she werede, barred al of silk,

A barmclooth as whit as morne milk

Upon hir lendes, ful of many a goore.

Whit was hir smok, and broyden al bifoore

And eek bihynde, on hir coler aboute,

3240 Of col-blak silk, withinne and eek withoute.

The tapes of hir white voluper

Were of the same suyte of hir coler;

Hir filet brood of silk, and set ful hye.

And sikerly she hadde a likerous ye;

Ful smale ypulled were hire browes two,

And tho were bent and blake as any sloo.

She was ful moore blisful on to see

Than is the newe pere-jonette tree,

And softer than the wolle is of a wether.

3250 And by hir girdel heeng a purs of lether,

Tasseled with silk and perled with latoun.

In al this world, to seken up and doun,

There nys no man so wys that koude thenche

So gay a popelote or swich a wenche.

Ful brighter was the shynyng of hir hewe

Than in the Tour the noble yforged newe.

But of hir song, it was as loude and yerne

As any swalwe sittynge on a berne.

Therto she koude skippe and make game,

3260 As any kyde or calf folwynge his dame.

Hir mouth was sweete as bragot or the meeth,

Or hoord of apples leyd in hey or heeth.

Wynsynge she was, as is a joly colt,

Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt.

A brooch she baar upon hir lowe coler,

As brood as is the boos of a bokeler.

Hir shoes were laced on hir legges hye.

She was a prymerole, a piggesnye,

For any lord to leggen in his bedde,

3270 Or yet for any good yeman to wedde.

Now, sire, and eft, sire, so bifel the cas

That on a day this hende Nicholas

Fil with this yonge wyf to rage and pleye,

Whil that hir housbonde was at Oseneye,

As clerkes ben ful subtile and ful queynte;

And prively he caughte hire by the queynte,

And seyde, "Ywis, but if ich have my wille,

For deerne love of thee, lemman, I spille."

And heeld hire harde by the haunchebones,

3280 And seyde, "Lemman, love me al atones,

Or I wol dyen, also God me save!"

And she sproong as a colt dooth in the trave,

And with hir heed she wryed faste awey,

And seyde, "I wol nat kisse thee, by my fey!

Why, lat be!" quod she. "Lat be, Nicholas,

Or I wol crie `out, harrow' and `allas'!

Do wey youre handes, for youre curteisye!"

This Nicholas gan mercy for to crye,

And spak so faire, and profred him so faste,

3290 That she hir love hym graunted atte laste,

And swoor hir ooth, by Seint Thomas of Kent,

That she wol been at his comandement,

Whan that she may hir leyser wel espie.

"Myn housbonde is so ful of jalousie

That but ye wayte wel and been privee,

I woot right wel I nam but deed," quod she.

"Ye moste been ful deerne, as in this cas."

"Nay, therof care thee noght," quod Nicholas.

"A clerk hadde litherly biset his whyle,

3300 But if he koude a carpenter bigyle."

And thus they been accorded and ysworn

To wayte a tyme, as I have told biforn.

Whan Nicholas had doon thus everideel

And thakked hire aboute the lendes weel,

He kiste hire sweete and taketh his sawtrie,

And pleyeth faste, and maketh melodie.

Thanne fil it thus, that to the paryssh chirche,

Cristes owene werkes for to wirche,

This goode wyf went on an haliday.

3310 Hir forheed shoon as bright as any day,

So was it wasshen whan she leet hir werk.

Now was ther of that chirche a parissh clerk,

The which that was ycleped Absolon.

Crul was his heer, and as the gold it shoon,

And strouted as a fanne large and brode;

Ful streight and evene lay his joly shode.

His rode was reed, his eyen greye as goos.

With Poules wyndow corven on his shoos,

In hoses rede he wente fetisly.

3320 Yclad he was ful smal and proprely

Al in a kirtel of a lyght waget;

Ful faire and thikke been the poyntes set.

And therupon he hadde a gay surplys

As whit as is the blosme upon the rys.

A myrie child he was, so God me save.

Wel koude he laten blood, and clippe and shave,

And maken a chartre of lond or acquitaunce.

In twenty manere koude he trippe and daunce

After the scole of Oxenforde tho,

3330 And with his legges casten to and fro,

And pleyen songes on a smal rubible;

Therto he song som tyme a loud quynyble;

And as wel koude he pleye on a giterne.

In al the toun nas brewhous ne taverne

That he ne visited with his solas,

Ther any gaylard tappestere was.

But sooth to seyn, he was somdeel squaymous

Of fartyng, and of speche daungerous.

This Absolon, that jolif was and gay,

3340 Gooth with a sencer on the haliday,

Sensynge the wyves of the parisshe faste;

And many a lovely look on hem he caste,

And namely on this carpenteris wyf.

To looke on hire hym thoughte a myrie lyf,

She was so propre and sweete and likerous.

I dar wel seyn, if she hadde been a mous,

And he a cat, he wolde hire hente anon.

This parissh clerk, this joly Absolon,

Hath in his herte swich a love-longynge

3350 That of no wyf took he noon offrynge;

For curteisie, he seyde, he wolde noon.

The moone, whan it was nyght, ful brighte shoon,

And Absolon his gyterne hath ytake;

For paramours he thoghte for to wake.

And forth he gooth, jolif and amorous,

Til he cam to the carpenteres hous

A litel after cokkes hadde ycrowe,

And dressed hym up by a shot-wyndowe

That was upon the carpenteris wal.

3360 He syngeth in his voys gentil and smal,

"Now, deere lady, if thy wille be,

I praye yow that ye wole rewe on me,"

Ful wel acordaunt to his gyternynge.

This carpenter awook, and herde him synge,

And spak unto his wyf, and seyde anon,

"What! Alison! Herestow nat Absolon,

That chaunteth thus under oure boures wal?"

And she answerde hir housbonde therwithal,

"Yis, God woot, John, I heere it every deel."

3370 This passeth forth; what wol ye bet than weel?

Fro day to day this joly Absolon

So woweth hire that hym is wo bigon.

He waketh al the nyght and al the day;

He kembeth his lokkes brode, and made hym gay;

He woweth hire by meenes and brocage,

And swoor he wolde been hir owene page;

He syngeth, brokkynge as a nyghtyngale;

He sente hire pyment, meeth, and spiced ale,

And wafres, pipyng hoot out of the gleede;

3380 And, for she was of town, he profred meede;

For som folk wol ben wonnen for richesse,

And somme for strokes, and somme for gentillesse.

Somtyme, to shewe his lightnesse and maistrye,

He pleyeth Herodes upon a scaffold hye.

But what availleth hym as in this cas?

She loveth so this hende Nicholas

That Absolon may blowe the bukkes horn;

He ne hadde for his labour but a scorn.

And thus she maketh Absolon hire ape,

3390 And al his ernest turneth til a jape.

Ful sooth is this proverbe, it is no lye,

Men seyn right thus: "Alwey the nye slye

Maketh the ferre leeve to be looth."

For though that Absolon be wood or wrooth,

By cause that he fer was from hire sight,

This nye Nicholas stood in his light.

Now ber thee wel, thou hende Nicholas,

For Absolon may waille and synge "allas."

And so bifel it on a Saterday,

3400 This carpenter was goon til Osenay;

And hende Nicholas and Alisoun

Acorded been to this conclusioun,

That Nicholas shal shapen hym a wyle

This sely jalous housbonde to bigyle;

And if so be the game wente aright,

She sholde slepen in his arm al nyght,

For this was his desir and hire also.

And right anon, withouten wordes mo,

This Nicholas no lenger wolde tarie,

3410 But dooth ful softe unto his chambre carie

Bothe mete and drynke for a day or tweye,

And to hire housbonde bad hire for to seye,

If that he axed after Nicholas,

She sholde seye she nyste where he was;

Of al that day she saugh hym nat with ye;

She trowed that he was in maladye,

For, for no cry hir mayde koude hym calle,

He nolde answere for thyng that myghte falle.

This passeth forth al thilke Saterday,

3420 That Nicholas stille in his chambre lay,

And eet and sleep, or dide what hym leste,

Til Sonday, that the sonne gooth to reste.

This sely carpenter hath greet merveyle

Of Nicholas, or what thyng myghte hym eyle,

And seyde, "I am adrad, by Seint Thomas,

It stondeth nat aright with Nicholas.

God shilde that he deyde sodeynly!

This world is now ful tikel, sikerly.

I saugh today a cors yborn to chirche

3430 That now, on Monday last, I saugh hym wirche.

"Go up," quod he unto his knave anoon,

"Clepe at his dore, or knokke with a stoon.

Looke how it is, and tel me boldely."

This knave gooth hym up ful sturdily,

And at the chambre dore whil that he stood,

He cride and knokked as that he were wood,

"What, how! What do ye, maister Nicholay?

How may ye slepen al the longe day?"

But al for noght; he herde nat a word.

3440 An hole he foond, ful lowe upon a bord,

Ther as the cat was wont in for to crepe,

And at that hole he looked in ful depe,

And at the laste he hadde of hym a sight.

This Nicholas sat evere capyng upright,

As he had kiked on the newe moone.

Adoun he gooth, and tolde his maister soone

In what array he saugh this ilke man.

This carpenter to blessen hym bigan,

And seyde, "Help us, Seinte Frydeswyde!

3450 A man woot litel what hym shal bityde.

This man is falle, with his astromye,

In some woodnesse or in som agonye.

I thoghte ay wel how that it sholde be!

Men sholde nat knowe of Goddes pryvetee.

Ye, blessed be alwey a lewed man

That noght but oonly his bileve kan!

So ferde another clerk with astromye;

He walked in the feeldes for to prye

Upon the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle,

3460 Til he was in a marle-pit yfalle;

He saugh nat that. But yet, by Seint Thomas,

Me reweth soore of hende Nicholas.

He shal be rated of his studiyng,

If that I may, by Jhesus, hevene kyng!

Get me a staf, that I may underspore,

Whil that thou, Robyn, hevest up the dore.

He shal out of his studiyng, as I gesse."

And to the chambre dore he gan hym dresse.

His knave was a strong carl for the nones,

3470 And by the haspe he haaf it of atones;

Into the floor the dore fil anon.

This Nicholas sat ay as stille as stoon,

And evere caped upward into the eir.

This carpenter wende he were in despeir,

And hente hym by the sholdres myghtily,

And shook hym harde, and cride spitously,

"What! Nicholay! What, how! What, looke adoun!

Awak, and thenk on Cristes passioun!

I crouche thee from elves and fro wightes."

3480 Therwith the nyght-spel seyde he anon-rightes

On foure halves of the hous aboute,

And on the thresshfold of the dore withoute:

"Jhesu Crist and Seinte Benedight,

Blesse this hous from every wikked wight,

For nyghtes verye, the white pater-noster!

Where wentestow, Seinte Petres soster?"

And atte laste this hende Nicholas

Gan for to sik soore, and seyde, "Allas!

Shal al the world be lost eftsoones now?"

3490 This carpenter answerde, "What seystow?

What! Thynk on God, as we doon, men that swynke."

This Nicholas answerde, "Fecche me drynke,

And after wol I speke in pryvetee

Of certeyn thyng that toucheth me and thee.

I wol telle it noon oother man, certeyn."

This carpenter goth doun, and comth ageyn,

And broghte of myghty ale a large quart;

And whan that ech of hem had dronke his part,

This Nicholas his dore faste shette,

3500 And doun the carpenter by hym he sette.

He seyde, "John, myn hooste, lief and deere,

Thou shalt upon thy trouthe swere me heere

That to no wight thou shalt this conseil wreye,

For it is Cristes conseil that I seye,

And if thou telle it man, thou art forlore;

For this vengeaunce thou shalt han therfore,

That if thou wreye me, thou shalt be wood."

"Nay, Crist forbede it, for his hooly blood!"

Quod tho this sely man, "I nam no labbe,

3510 Ne, though I seye, I nam nat lief to gabbe.

Sey what thou wolt, I shal it nevere telle

To child ne wyf, by hym that harwed helle!"

"Now John," quod Nicholas, "I wol nat lye;

I have yfounde in myn astrologye,

As I have looked in the moone bright,

That now a Monday next, at quarter nyght,

Shal falle a reyn, and that so wilde and wood

That half so greet was nevere Noes flood.

This world," he seyde, "in lasse than an hour

3520 Shal al be dreynt, so hidous is the shour.

Thus shal mankynde drenche, and lese hir lyf."

This carpenter answerde, "Allas, my wyf!

And shal she drenche? Allas, myn Alisoun!"

For sorwe of this he fil almoost adoun,

And seyde, "Is ther no remedie in this cas?"

"Why, yis, for Gode," quod hende Nicholas,

"If thou wolt werken after loore and reed.

Thou mayst nat werken after thyn owene heed;

For thus seith Salomon, that was ful trewe:

3530 `Werk al by conseil, and thou shalt nat rewe.'

And if thou werken wolt by good conseil,

I undertake, withouten mast and seyl,

Yet shal I saven hire and thee and me.

Hastow nat herd hou saved was Noe,

Whan that oure Lord hadde warned hym biforn

That al the world with water sholde be lorn?"

"Yis," quod this Carpenter, "ful yoore ago."

"Hastou nat herd," quod Nicholas, "also

The sorwe of Noe with his felaweshipe,

3540 Er that he myghte gete his wyf to shipe?

Hym hadde be levere, I dar wel undertake,

At thilke tyme, than alle his wetheres blake

That she hadde had a ship hirself allone.

And therfore, woostou what is best to doone?

This asketh haste, and of an hastif thyng

Men may nat preche or maken tariyng.

"Anon go gete us faste into this in

A knedyng trogh, or ellis a kymelyn,

For ech of us, but looke that they be large,

3550 In which we mowe swymme as in a barge,

And han therinne vitaille suffisant

But for a day -- fy on the remenant!

The water shal aslake and goon away

Aboute pryme upon the nexte day.

But Robyn may nat wite of this, thy knave,

Ne eek thy mayde Gille I may nat save;

Axe nat why, for though thou aske me,

I wol nat tellen Goddes pryvetee.

Suffiseth thee, but if thy wittes madde,

3560 To han as greet a grace as Noe hadde.

Thy wyf shal I wel saven, out of doute.

Go now thy wey, and speed thee heer-aboute.

"But whan thou hast, for hire and thee and me,

Ygeten us thise knedyng tubbes thre,

Thanne shaltow hange hem in the roof ful hye,

That no man of oure purveiaunce espye.

And whan thou thus hast doon as I have seyd,

And hast oure vitaille faire in hem yleyd,

And eek an ax to smyte the corde atwo,

3570 Whan that the water comth, that we may go

And breke an hole an heigh, upon the gable,

Unto the gardyn-ward, over the stable,

That we may frely passen forth oure way,

Whan that the grete shour is goon away.

Thanne shaltou swymme as myrie, I undertake,

As dooth the white doke after hire drake.

Thanne wol I clepe, `How, Alison! How, John!

Be myrie, for the flood wol passe anon.'

And thou wolt seyn, `Hayl, maister Nicholay!

3580 Good morwe, I se thee wel, for it is day.'

And thanne shul we be lordes al oure lyf

Of al the world, as Noe and his wyf.

"But of o thyng I warne thee ful right:

Be wel avysed on that ilke nyght

That we ben entred into shippes bord,

That noon of us ne speke nat a word,

Ne clepe, ne crie, but be in his preyere;

For it is Goddes owene heeste deere.

"Thy wyf and thou moote hange fer atwynne,

3590 For that bitwixe yow shal be no synne,

Namoore in lookyng than ther shal in deede.

This ordinance is seyd. Go, God thee speede!

Tomorwe at nyght, whan men ben alle aslepe,

Into oure knedyng-tubbes wol we crepe,

And sitten there, abidyng Goddes grace.

Go now thy wey; I have no lenger space

To make of this no lenger sermonyng.

Men seyn thus, `sende the wise, and sey no thyng.'

Thou art so wys, it needeth thee nat teche.

3600 Go, save oure lyf, and that I the biseche."

This sely carpenter goth forth his wey.

Ful ofte he seide "Allas and weylawey,"

And to his wyf he tolde his pryvetee,

And she was war, and knew it bet than he,

What al this queynte cast was for to seye.

But nathelees she ferde as she wolde deye,

And seyde, "Allas! go forth thy wey anon,

Help us to scape, or we been dede echon!

I am thy trewe, verray wedded wyf;

3610 Go, deere spouse, and help to save oure lyf."

Lo, which a greet thyng is affeccioun!

Men may dyen of ymaginacioun,

So depe may impressioun be take.

This sely carpenter bigynneth quake;

Hym thynketh verraily that he may see

Noees flood come walwynge as the see

To drenchen Alisoun, his hony deere.

He wepeth, weyleth, maketh sory cheere;

He siketh with ful many a sory swogh;

3620 He gooth and geteth hym a knedyng trogh,

And after that a tubbe and a kymelyn,

And pryvely he sente hem to his in,

And heng hem in the roof in pryvetee.

His owene hand he made laddres thre,

To clymben by the ronges and the stalkes

Unto the tubbes hangynge in the balkes,

And hem vitailled, bothe trogh and tubbe,

With breed, and chese, and good ale in a jubbe,

Suffisynge right ynogh as for a day.

3630 But er that he hadde maad al this array,

He sente his knave, and eek his wenche also,

Upon his nede to London for to go.

And on the Monday, whan it drow to nyght,

He shette his dore withoute candel-lyght,

And dressed alle thyng as it sholde be.

And shortly, up they clomben alle thre;

They seten stille wel a furlong way.

"Now, Pater-noster, clom!" seyde Nicholay,

And "Clom!" quod John, and "Clom!" seyde Alisoun.

3640 This carpenter seyde his devocioun,

And stille he sit, and biddeth his preyere,

Awaitynge on the reyn, if he it heere.

The dede sleep, for wery bisynesse,

Fil on this carpenter right, as I gesse,

Aboute corfew-tyme, or litel moore;

For travaille of his goost he groneth soore,

And eft he routeth, for his heed myslay.

Doun of the laddre stalketh Nicholay,

And Alisoun ful softe adoun she spedde;

3650 Withouten wordes mo they goon to bedde,

Ther as the carpenter is wont to lye.

Ther was the revel and the melodye;

And thus lith Alison and Nicholas,

In bisynesse of myrthe and of solas,

Til that the belle of laudes gan to rynge,

And freres in the chauncel gonne synge.

This parissh clerk, this amorous Absolon,

That is for love alwey so wo bigon,

Upon the Monday was at Oseneye

3660 With compaignye, hym to disporte and pleye,

And axed upon cas a cloisterer

Ful prively after John the carpenter;

And he drough hym apart out of the chirche,

And seyde, "I noot; I saugh hym heere nat wirche

Syn Saterday; I trowe that he be went

For tymber, ther oure abbot hath hym sent;

For he is wont for tymber for to go

And dwellen at the grange a day or two;

Or elles he is at his hous, certeyn.

3670 Where that he be, I kan nat soothly seyn."

This Absolon ful joly was and light,

And thoghte, "Now is tyme to wake al nyght,

For sikirly I saugh hym nat stirynge

Aboute his dore, syn day bigan to sprynge.

"So moot I thryve, I shal, at cokkes crowe,

Ful pryvely knokken at his wyndowe

That stant ful lowe upon his boures wal.

To Alison now wol I tellen al

My love-longynge, for yet I shal nat mysse

3680 That at the leeste wey I shal hire kisse.

Som maner confort shal I have, parfay.

My mouth hath icched al this longe day;

That is a signe of kissyng atte leeste.

Al nyght me mette eek I was at a feeste.

Therfore I wol go slepe an houre or tweye,

And al the nyght thanne wol I wake and pleye."

Whan that the firste cok hath crowe, anon

Up rist this joly lovere Absolon,

And hym arraieth gay, at poynt-devys.

3690 But first he cheweth greyn and lycorys,

To smellen sweete, er he hadde kembd his heer.

Under his tonge a trewe-love he beer,

For therby wende he to ben gracious.

He rometh to the carpenteres hous,

And stille he stant under the shot-wyndowe --

Unto his brest it raughte, it was so lowe --

And softe he cougheth with a semy soun:

"What do ye, hony-comb, sweete Alisoun,

My faire bryd, my sweete cynamome?

3700 Awaketh, lemman myn, and speketh to me!

Wel litel thynken ye upon my wo,

That for youre love I swete ther I go.

No wonder is thogh that I swelte and swete;

I moorne as dooth a lamb after the tete.

Ywis, lemman, I have swich love-longynge

That lik a turtel trewe is my moornynge.

I may nat ete na moore than a mayde."

"Go fro the wyndow, Jakke fool," she sayde;

"As help me God, it wol nat be `com pa me.'

3710 I love another -- and elles I were to blame --

Wel bet than thee, by Jhesu, Absolon.

Go forth thy wey, or I wol caste a ston,

And lat me slepe, a twenty devel wey!"

"Allas," quod Absolon, "and weylawey,

That trewe love was evere so yvel biset!

Thanne kysse me, syn it may be no bet,

For Jhesus love, and for the love of me."

"Wiltow thanne go thy wey therwith?" quod she.

"Ye, certes, lemman," quod this Absolon.

3720 "Thanne make thee redy," quod she, "I come anon."

And unto Nicholas she seyde stille,

"Now hust, and thou shalt laughen al thy fille."

This Absolon doun sette hym on his knees

And seyde, "I am a lord at alle degrees;

For after this I hope ther cometh moore.

Lemman, thy grace, and sweete bryd, thyn oore!"

The wyndow she undoth, and that in haste.

"Have do," quod she, "com of, and speed the faste,

Lest that oure neighebores thee espie."

3730 This Absolon gan wype his mouth ful drie.

Derk was the nyght as pich, or as the cole,

And at the wyndow out she putte hir hole,

And Absolon, hym fil no bet ne wers,

But with his mouth he kiste hir naked ers

Ful savourly, er he were war of this.

Abak he stirte, and thoughte it was amys,

For wel he wiste a womman hath no berd.

He felte a thyng al rough and long yherd,

And seyde, "Fy! allas! what have I do?"

3740 "Tehee!" quod she, and clapte the wyndow to,

And Absolon gooth forth a sory pas.

"A berd! A berd!" quod hende Nicholas,

"By Goddes corpus, this goth faire and weel."

This sely Absolon herde every deel,

And on his lippe he gan for anger byte,

And to hymself he seyde, "I shal thee quyte."

Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes

With dust, with sond, with straw, with clooth, with chippes,

But Absolon, that seith ful ofte, "Allas!"

3750 "My soule bitake I unto Sathanas,

But me were levere than al this toun," quod he,

"Of this despit awroken for to be.

Allas," quod he, "allas, I ne hadde ybleynt!"

His hoote love was coold and al yqueynt;

For fro that tyme that he hadde kist hir ers,

Of paramours he sette nat a kers,

For he was heeled of his maladie.

Ful ofte paramours he gan deffie,

And weep as dooth a child that is ybete.

3760 A softe paas he wente over the strete

Until a smyth men cleped daun Gerveys,

That in his forge smythed plough harneys;

He sharpeth shaar and kultour bisily.

This Absolon knokketh al esily,

And seyde, "Undo, Gerveys, and that anon."

"What, who artow?" "It am I, Absolon."

"What, Absolon! for Cristes sweete tree,

Why rise ye so rathe? Ey, benedicitee!

What eyleth yow? Som gay gerl, God it woot,

3770 Hath broght yow thus upon the viritoot.

By Seinte Note, ye woot wel what I mene."

This Absolon ne roghte nat a bene

Of al his pley; no word agayn he yaf;

He hadde moore tow on his distaf

Than Gerveys knew, and seyde, "Freend so deere,

That hoote kultour in the chymenee heere,

As lene it me; I have therwith to doone,

And I wol brynge it thee agayn ful soone."

Gerveys answerde, "Certes, were it gold,

3780 Or in a poke nobles alle untold,

Thou sholdest have, as I am trewe smyth.

Ey, Cristes foo! What wol ye do therwith?"

"Therof," quod Absolon, "be as be may.

I shal wel telle it thee to-morwe day" --

And caughte the kultour by the colde stele.

Ful softe out at the dore he gan to stele,

And wente unto the carpenteris wal.

He cogheth first, and knokketh therwithal

Upon the wyndowe, right as he dide er.

3790 This Alison answerde, "Who is ther

That knokketh so? I warante it a theef."

"Why, nay," quod he, "God woot, my sweete leef,

I am thyn Absolon, my deerelyng.

Of gold," quod he, "I have thee broght a ryng.

My mooder yaf it me, so God me save;

Ful fyn it is, and therto wel ygrave.

This wol I yeve thee, if thou me kisse."

This Nicholas was risen for to pisse,

And thoughte he wolde amenden al the jape;

3800 He sholde kisse his ers er that he scape.

And up the wyndowe dide he hastily,

And out his ers he putteth pryvely

Over the buttok, to the haunche-bon;

And therwith spak this clerk, this Absolon,

"Spek, sweete bryd, I noot nat where thou art."

This Nicholas anon leet fle a fart

As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,

That with the strook he was almoost yblent;

And he was redy with his iren hoot,

3810 And Nicholas amydde the ers he smoot.

Of gooth the skyn an hande-brede aboute,

The hoote kultour brende so his toute,

And for the smert he wende for to dye.

As he were wood, for wo he gan to crye,

"Help! Water! Water! Help, for Goddes herte!"

This carpenter out of his slomber sterte,

And herde oon crien "water!" as he were wood,

And thoughte, "Allas, now comth Nowelis flood!"

He sit hym up withouten wordes mo,

3820 And with his ax he smoot the corde atwo,

And doun gooth al; he foond neither to selle,

Ne breed ne ale, til he cam to the celle

Upon the floor, and ther aswowne he lay.

Up stirte hire Alison and Nicholay,

And criden "Out" and "Harrow" in the strete.

The neighebores, bothe smale and grete,

In ronnen for to gauren on this man,

That yet aswowne lay, bothe pale and wan,

For with the fal he brosten hadde his arm.

3830 But stonde he moste unto his owene harm;

For whan he spak, he was anon bore doun

With hende Nicholas and Alisoun.

They tolden every man that he was wood;

He was agast so of Nowelis flood

Thurgh fantasie that of his vanytee

He hadde yboght hym knedyng tubbes thre,

And hadde hem hanged in the roof above;

And that he preyed hem, for Goddes love,

To sitten in the roof, par compaignye.

3840 The folk gan laughen at his fantasye;

Into the roof they kiken and they cape,

And turned al his harm unto a jape.

For what so that this carpenter answerde,

It was for noght; no man his reson herde.

With othes grete he was so sworn adoun

That he was holde wood in al the toun;

For every clerk anonright heeld with oother.

They seyde, "The man is wood, my leeve brother";

And every wight gan laughen at this stryf.

3850 Thus swyved was this carpenteris wyf,

For al his kepyng and his jalousye,

And Absolon hath kist hir nether ye,

And Nicholas is scalded in the towte.

This tale is doon, and God save al the rowte!

THE REEVE'S PROLOGUE

Whan folk hadde laughen at this nyce cas

Of Absolon and hende Nicholas,

Diverse folk diversely they seyde,

But for the moore part they loughe and pleyde.

Ne at this tale I saugh no man hym greve,

3860 But it were oonly Osewold the Reve.

By cause he was of carpenteris craft,

A litel ire is in his herte ylaft;

He gan to grucche, and blamed it a lite.

"So theek," quod he, "ful wel koude I thee quite

With bleryng of a proud milleres ye,

If that me liste speke of ribaudye.

But ik am oold; me list not pley for age;

Gras tyme is doon; my fodder is now forage;

This white top writeth myne olde yeris;

3870 Myn herte is also mowled as myne heris,

But if I fare as dooth an open-ers --

That ilke fruyt is ever lenger the wers,

Til it be roten in mullok or in stree.

We olde men, I drede, so fare we:

Til we be roten, kan we nat be rype;

We hoppen alwey whil that the world wol pype.

For in oure wyl ther stiketh evere a nayl,

To have an hoor heed and a grene tayl,

As hath a leek; for thogh oure myght be goon,

3880 Oure wyl desireth folie evere in oon.

For whan we may nat doon, than wol we speke;

Yet in oure asshen olde is fyr yreke.

"Foure gleedes han we, which I shal devyse --

Avauntyng, liyng, anger, coveitise;

Thise foure sparkles longen unto eelde.

Oure olde lemes mowe wel been unweelde,

But wyl ne shal nat faillen, that is sooth.

And yet ik have alwey a coltes tooth,

As many a yeer as it is passed henne

3890 Syn that my tappe of lif bigan to renne.

For sikerly, whan I was bore, anon

Deeth drough the tappe of lyf and leet it gon,

And ever sithe hath so the tappe yronne

Til that almoost al empty is the tonne.

The streem of lyf now droppeth on the chymbe.

The sely tonge may wel rynge and chymbe

Of wrecchednesse that passed is ful yoore;

With olde folk, save dotage, is namoore!"

Whan that oure Hoost hadde herd this sermonyng,

3900 He gan to speke as lordly as a kyng.

He seide, "What amounteth al this wit?

What shul we speke alday of hooly writ?

The devel made a reve for to preche,

Or of a soutere a shipman or a leche.

Sey forth thy tale, and tarie nat the tyme.

Lo Depeford, and it is half-wey pryme!

Lo Grenewych, ther many a shrewe is inne!

It were al tyme thy tale to bigynne."

"Now, sires," quod this Osewold the Reve,

3910 "I pray yow alle that ye nat yow greve,

Thogh I answere, and somdeel sette his howve;

For leveful is with force force of-showve.

"This dronke Millere hath ytoold us heer

How that bigyled was a carpenteer,

Peraventure in scorn, for I am oon.

And, by youre leve, I shal hym quite anoon;

Right in his cherles termes wol I speke.

I pray to God his nekke mote to-breke;

He kan wel in myn eye seen a stalke,

3920 But in his owene he kan nat seen a balke."

THE REEVE'S TALE

At Trumpyngtoun, nat fer fro Cantebrigge,

Ther gooth a brook, and over that a brigge,

Upon the whiche brook ther stant a melle;

And this is verray sooth that I yow telle:

A millere was ther dwellynge many a day.

As any pecok he was proud and gay.

Pipen he koude and fisshe, and nettes beete,

And turne coppes, and wel wrastle and sheete;

Ay by his belt he baar a long panade,

3930 And of a swerd ful trenchant was the blade.

A joly poppere baar he in his pouche;

Ther was no man, for peril, dorste hym touche.

A Sheffeld thwitel baar he in his hose.

Round was his face, and camus was his nose;

As piled as an ape was his skulle.

He was a market-betere atte fulle.

Ther dorste no wight hand upon hym legge,

That he ne swoor he sholde anon abegge.

A theef he was for sothe of corn and mele,

3940 And that a sly, and usaunt for to stele.

His name was hoote deynous Symkyn.

A wyf he hadde, ycomen of noble kyn;

The person of the toun hir fader was.

With hire he yaf ful many a panne of bras,

For that Symkyn sholde in his blood allye.

She was yfostred in a nonnerye;

For Symkyn wolde no wyf, as he sayde,

But she were wel ynorissed and a mayde,

To saven his estaat of yomanrye.

3950 And she was proud, and peert as is a pye.

A ful fair sighte was it upon hem two;

On halydayes biforn hire wolde he go

With his typet wounde aboute his heed,

And she cam after in a gyte of reed;

And Symkyn hadde hosen of the same.

Ther dorste no wight clepen hire but "dame";

Was noon so hardy that wente by the weye

That with hire dorste rage or ones pleye,

But if he wolde be slayn of Symkyn

3960 With panade, or with knyf, or boidekyn.

For jalous folk ben perilous everemo --

Algate they wolde hire wyves wenden so.

And eek, for she was somdel smoterlich,

She was as digne as water in a dich,

And ful of hoker and of bisemare.

Hir thoughte that a lady sholde hire spare,

What for hire kynrede and hir nortelrie

That she hadde lerned in the nonnerie.

A doghter hadde they bitwixe hem two

3970 Of twenty yeer, withouten any mo,

Savynge a child that was of half yeer age;

In cradel it lay and was a propre page.

This wenche thikke and wel ygrowen was,

With kamus nose and eyen greye as glas,

With buttokes brode and brestes rounde and hye.

But right fair was hire heer; I wol nat lye.

This person of the toun, for she was feir,

In purpos was to maken hire his heir,

Bothe of his catel and his mesuage,

3980 And straunge he made it of hir mariage.

His purpos was for to bistowe hire hye

Into som worthy blood of auncetrye;

For hooly chirches good moot been despended

On hooly chirches blood, that is descended.

Therfore he wolde his hooly blood honoure,

Though that he hooly chirche sholde devoure.

Greet sokene hath this millere, out of doute,

With whete and malt of al the land aboute;

And nameliche ther was a greet collegge

3990 Men clepen the Soler Halle at Cantebregge;

Ther was hir whete and eek hir malt ygrounde.

And on a day it happed, in a stounde,

Sik lay the maunciple on a maladye;

Men wenden wisly that he sholde dye.

For which this millere stal bothe mele and corn

An hundred tyme moore than biforn;

For therbiforn he stal but curteisly,

But now he was a theef outrageously,

For which the wardeyn chidde and made fare.

4000 But therof sette the millere nat a tare;

He craketh boost, and swoor it was nat so.

Thanne were ther yonge povre scolers two,

That dwelten in this halle, of which I seye.

Testif they were, and lusty for to pleye,

And, oonly for hire myrthe and revelrye,

Upon the wardeyn bisily they crye

To yeve hem leve, but a litel stounde,

To goon to mille and seen hir corn ygrounde;

And hardily they dorste leye hir nekke

4010 The millere sholde not stele hem half a pekke

Of corn by sleighte, ne by force hem reve;

And at the laste the wardeyn yaf hem leve.

John highte that oon, and Aleyn highte that oother;

Of o toun were they born, that highte Strother,

Fer in the north; I kan nat telle where.

This Aleyn maketh redy al his gere,

And on an hors the sak he caste anon.

Forth goth Aleyn the clerk, and also John,

With good swerd and with bokeler by hir syde.

4020 John knew the wey -- hem nedede no gyde --

And at the mille the sak adoun he layth.

Aleyn spak first: "Al hayl, Symond, y-fayth!

Hou fares thy faire doghter and thy wyf?"

"Aleyn, welcome," quod Symkyn, "by my lyf!

And John also, how now, what do ye heer?"

"Symond," quod John, "by God, nede has na peer.

Hym boes serve hymself that has na swayn,

Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes sayn.

Oure manciple, I hope he wil be deed,

4030 Swa werkes ay the wanges in his heed;

And forthy is I come, and eek Alayn,

To grynde oure corn and carie it ham agayn;

I pray yow spede us heythen that ye may."

"It shal be doon," quod Symkyn, "by my fay!

What wol ye doon whil that it is in hande?"

"By God, right by the hopur wil I stande,"

Quod John, "and se howgates the corn gas in.

Yet saugh I nevere, by my fader kyn,

How that the hopur wagges til and fra."

4040 Aleyn answerde, "John, and wiltow swa?

Thanne wil I be bynethe, by my croun,

And se how that the mele falles doun

Into the trough; that sal be my disport.

For John, y-faith, I may been of youre sort;

I is as ille a millere as ar ye."

This millere smyled of hir nycetee,

And thoghte, "Al this nys doon but for a wyle.

They wene that no man may hem bigyle,

But by my thrift, yet shal I blere hir ye,

4050 For al the sleighte in hir philosophye.

The moore queynte crekes that they make,

The moore wol I stele whan I take.

In stide of flour yet wol I yeve hem bren.

`The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men,'

As whilom to the wolf thus spak the mare.

Of al hir art counte I noght a tare."

Out at the dore he gooth ful pryvely,

Whan that he saugh his tyme, softely.

He looketh up and doun til he hath founde

4060 The clerkes hors, ther as it stood ybounde

Bihynde the mille, under a levesel;

And to the hors he goth hym faire and wel;

He strepeth of the brydel right anon.

And whan the hors was laus, he gynneth gon

Toward the fen, ther wilde mares renne,

And forth with "wehee," thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne.

This millere gooth agayn, no word he seyde,

But dooth his note, and with the clerkes pleyde

Til that hir corn was faire and weel ygrounde.

4070 And whan the mele is sakked and ybounde,

This John goth out and fynt his hors away,

And gan to crie "Harrow!" and "Weylaway!

Oure hors is lorn, Alayn, for Goddes banes,

Step on thy feet! Com of, man, al atanes!

Allas, our wardeyn has his palfrey lorn."

This Aleyn al forgat, bothe mele and corn;

Al was out of his mynde his housbondrie.

"What, whilk way is he geen?" he gan to crie.

The wyf cam lepynge inward with a ren.

4080 She seyde, "Allas! youre hors goth to the fen

With wilde mares, as faste as he may go.

Unthank come on his hand that boond hym so,

And he that bettre sholde han knyt the reyne!"

"Allas," quod John, "Aleyn, for Cristes peyne

Lay doun thy swerd, and I wil myn alswa.

I is ful wight, God waat, as is a raa;

By Goddes herte, he sal nat scape us bathe!

Why ne had thow pit the capul in the lathe?

Ilhayl! By God, Alayn, thou is a fonne!"

4090 Thise sely clerkes han ful faste yronne

Toward the fen, bothe Aleyn and eek John.

And whan the millere saugh that they were gon,

He half a busshel of hir flour hath take,

And bad his wyf go knede it in a cake.

He seyde, "I trowe the clerkes were aferd.

Yet kan a millere make a clerkes berd,

For al his art; now lat hem goon hir weye!

Lo, wher he gooth! Ye, lat the children pleye.

They gete hym nat so lightly, by my croun."

4100 Thise sely clerkes rennen up and doun

With "Keep! Keep! Stand! Stand! Jossa, warderere,

Ga whistle thou, and I shal kepe hym heere!"

But shortly, til that it was verray nyght,

They koude nat, though they dide al hir myght,

Hir capul cacche, he ran alwey so faste,

Til in a dych they caughte hym atte laste.

Wery and weet, as beest is in the reyn,

Comth sely John, and with him comth Aleyn.

"Allas," quod John, "the day that I was born!

4110 Now are we dryve til hethyng and til scorn.

Oure corn is stoln; men wil us fooles calle,

Bathe the wardeyn and oure felawes alle,

And namely the millere, weylaway!"

Thus pleyneth John as he gooth by the way

Toward the mille, and Bayard in his hond.

The millere sittynge by the fyr he fond,

For it was nyght, and forther myghte they noght;

But for the love of God they hym bisoght

Of herberwe and of ese, as for hir peny.

4120 The millere seyde agayn, "If ther be eny,

Swich as it is, yet shal ye have youre part.

Myn hous is streit, but ye han lerned art;

Ye konne by argumentes make a place

A myle brood of twenty foot of space.

Lat se now if this place may suffise,

Or make it rowm with speche, as is youre gise."

"Now, Symond," seyde John, "by Seint Cutberd,

Ay is thou myrie, and this is faire answerd.

I have herd seyd, `Man sal taa of twa thynges:

4130 Slyk as he fyndes, or taa slyk as he brynges.'

But specially I pray thee, hooste deere,

Get us som mete and drynke, and make us cheere,

And we wil payen trewely atte fulle.

With empty hand men may na haukes tulle;

Loo, heere oure silver, redy for to spende."

This millere into toun his doghter sende

For ale and breed, and rosted hem a goos,

And boond hire hors, it sholde namoore go loos,

And in his owene chambre hem made a bed,

4140 With sheetes and with chalons faire yspred

Noght from his owene bed ten foot or twelve.

His doghter hadde a bed, al by hirselve,

Right in the same chambre by and by.

It myghte be no bet, and cause why?

Ther was no roumer herberwe in the place.

They soupen and they speke, hem to solace,

And drynken evere strong ale atte beste.

Aboute mydnyght wente they to reste.

Wel hath this millere vernysshed his heed;

4150 Ful pale he was for dronken, and nat reed.

He yexeth, and he speketh thurgh the nose

As he were on the quakke, or on the pose.

To bedde he goth, and with hym goth his wyf.

As any jay she light was and jolyf,

So was hir joly whistle wel ywet.

The cradel at hir beddes feet is set,

To rokken, and to yeve the child to sowke.

And whan that dronken al was in the crowke,

To bedde wente the doghter right anon;

4160 To bedde goth Aleyn and also John;

Ther nas na moore -- hem nedede no dwale.

This millere hath so wisely bibbed ale

That as an hors he fnorteth in his sleep,

Ne of his tayl bihynde he took no keep.

His wyf bar hym a burdon, a ful strong;

Men myghte hir rowtyng heere two furlong;

The wenche rowteth eek, par compaignye.

Aleyn the clerk, that herde this melodye,

He poked John, and seyde, "Slepestow?

4170 Herdestow evere slyk a sang er now?

Lo, swilk a complyn is ymel hem alle;

A wilde fyr upon thair bodyes falle!

Wha herkned evere slyk a ferly thyng?

Ye, they sal have the flour of il endyng.

This lange nyght ther tydes me na reste;

But yet, na fors, al sal be for the beste.

For, John," seyde he, "als evere moot I thryve,

If that I may, yon wenche wil I swyve.

Som esement has lawe yshapen us,

4180 For, John, ther is a lawe that says thus:

That gif a man in a point be agreved,

That in another he sal be releved.

Oure corn is stoln, sothly, it is na nay,

And we han had an il fit al this day;

And syn I sal have neen amendement

Agayn my los, I will have esement.

By Goddes sale, it sal neen other bee!"

This John answerde, "Alayn, avyse thee!

The millere is a perilous man," he seyde,

4190 "And gif that he out of his sleep abreyde,

He myghte doon us bathe a vileynye."

Aleyn answerde, "I counte hym nat a flye."

And up he rist, and by the wenche he crepte.

This wenche lay uprighte and faste slepte,

Til he so ny was, er she myghte espie,

That it had been to late for to crie,

And shortly for to seyn, they were aton.

Now pley, Aleyn, for I wol speke of John.

This John lith stille a furlong wey or two,

4200 And to hymself he maketh routhe and wo.

"Allas!" quod he, "this is a wikked jape;

Now may I seyn that I is but an ape.

Yet has my felawe somwhat for his harm;

He has the milleris doghter in his arm.

He auntred hym, and has his nedes sped,

And I lye as a draf-sak in my bed;

And when this jape is tald another day,

I sal been halde a daf, a cokenay!

I wil arise and auntre it, by my fayth!

4210 `Unhardy is unseely,' thus men sayth."

And up he roos, and softely he wente

Unto the cradel, and in his hand it hente,

And baar it softe unto his beddes feet.

Soone after this the wyf hir rowtyng leet,

And gan awake, and wente hire out to pisse,

And cam agayn, and gan hir cradel mysse,

And groped heer and ther, but she foond noon.

"Allas!" quod she, "I hadde almoost mysgoon;

I hadde almoost goon to the clerkes bed.

4220 Ey, benedicite! Thanne hadde I foule ysped!"

And forth she gooth til she the cradel fond.

She gropeth alwey forther with hir hond,

And foond the bed, and thoghte noght but good,

By cause that the cradel by it stood,

And nyste wher she was, for it was derk;

But faire and wel she creep in to the clerk,

And lith ful stille, and wolde han caught a sleep.

Withinne a while this John the clerk up leep,

And on this goode wyf he leith on soore.

4230 So myrie a fit ne hadde she nat ful yoore;

He priketh harde and depe as he were mad.

This joly lyf han thise two clerkes lad

Til that the thridde cok bigan to synge.

Aleyn wax wery in the dawenynge,

For he had swonken al the longe nyght,

And seyde, "Fare weel, Malyne, sweete wight!

The day is come; I may no lenger byde;

But everemo, wher so I go or ryde,

I is thyn awen clerk, swa have I seel!"

4240 "Now, deere lemman," quod she, "go, far weel!

But er thow go, o thyng I wol thee telle:

Whan that thou wendest homward by the melle,

Right at the entree of the dore bihynde

Thou shalt a cake of half a busshel fynde

That was ymaked of thyn owene mele,

Which that I heelp my sire for to stele.

And, goode lemman, God thee save and kepe!"

And with that word almoost she gan to wepe.

Aleyn up rist, and thoughte, "Er that it dawe,

4250 I wol go crepen in by my felawe,"

And fond the cradel with his hand anon.

"By God," thoughte he, "al wrang I have mysgon.

Myn heed is toty of my swynk to-nyght,

That makes me that I ga nat aright.

I woot wel by the cradel I have mysgo;

Heere lith the millere and his wyf also."

And forth he goth, a twenty devel way,

Unto the bed ther as the millere lay.

He wende have cropen by his felawe John,

4260 And by the millere in he creep anon,

And caughte hym by the nekke, and softe he spak.

He seyde, "Thou John, thou swynes-heed, awak,

For Cristes saule, and heer a noble game.

For by that lord that called is Seint Jame,

As I have thries in this shorte nyght

Swyved the milleres doghter bolt upright,

Whil thow hast, as a coward, been agast."

"Ye, false harlot," quod the millere, "hast?

A, false traitour! False clerk!" quod he,

4270 "Thow shalt be deed, by Goddes dignitee!

Who dorste be so boold to disparage

My doghter, that is come of swich lynage?"

And by the throte-bolle he caughte Alayn,

And he hente hym despitously agayn,

And on the nose he smoot hym with his fest.

Doun ran the blody streem upon his brest;

And in the floor, with nose and mouth tobroke,

They walwe as doon two pigges in a poke;

And up they goon, and doun agayn anon,

4280 Til that the millere sporned at a stoon,

And doun he fil bakward upon his wyf,

That wiste no thyng of this nyce stryf;

For she was falle aslepe a lite wight

With John the clerk, that waked hadde al nyght,

And with the fal out of hir sleep she breyde.

"Help! hooly croys of Bromeholm," she seyde,

"In manus tuas! Lord, to thee I calle!

Awak, Symond! The feend is on me falle.

Myn herte is broken; help! I nam but deed!

4290 Ther lyth oon upon my wombe and on myn heed.

Help, Symkyn, for the false clerkes fighte!"

This John stirte up as faste as ever he myghte,

And graspeth by the walles to and fro,

To fynde a staf; and she stirte up also,

And knew the estres bet than dide this John,

And by the wal a staf she foond anon,

And saugh a litel shymeryng of a light,

For at an hole in shoon the moone bright,

And by that light she saugh hem bothe two,

4300 But sikerly she nyste who was who,

But as she saugh a whit thyng in hir ye.

And whan she gan this white thyng espye,

She wende the clerk hadde wered a volupeer,

And with the staf she drow ay neer and neer,

And wende han hit this Aleyn at the fulle,

And smoot the millere on the pyled skulle,

That doun he gooth, and cride, "Harrow! I dye!"

Thise clerkes beete hym weel and lete hym lye,

And greythen hem, and tooke hir hors anon,

4310 And eek hire mele, and on hir wey they gon.

And at the mille yet they tooke hir cake

Of half a busshel flour, ful wel ybake.

Thus is the proude millere wel ybete,

And hath ylost the gryndynge of the whete,

And payed for the soper everideel

Of Aleyn and of John, that bette hym weel.

His wyf is swyved, and his doghter als.

Lo, swich it is a millere to be fals!

And therfore this proverbe is seyd ful sooth,

4320 "Hym thar nat wene wel that yvele dooth."

A gylour shal hymself bigyled be.

And God, that sitteth heighe in magestee,

Save al this compaignye, grete and smale!

Thus have I quyt the Millere in my tale.

THE COOK'S PROLOGUE

The Cook of Londoun, whil the Reve spak,

For joye him thoughte he clawed him on the bak.

"Ha! ha!" quod he, "For Cristes passion,

This millere hadde a sharp conclusion

Upon his argument of herbergage!

4330 Wel seyde Salomon in his langage,

`Ne bryng nat every man into thyn hous,'

For herberwynge by nyghte is perilous.

Wel oghte a man avysed for to be

Whom that he broghte into his pryvetee.

I pray to God, so yeve me sorwe and care

If evere, sitthe I highte Hogge of Ware,

Herde I a millere bettre yset a-werk.

He hadde a jape of malice in the derk.

But God forbede that we stynte heere;

4340 And therfore, if ye vouche-sauf to heere

A tale of me, that am a povre man,

I wol yow telle, as wel as evere I kan,

A litel jape that fil in oure citee."

Oure Hoost answerde and seide, "I graunte it thee.

Now telle on, Roger; looke that it be good,

For many a pastee hastow laten blood,

And many a Jakke of Dovere hastow soold

That hath been twies hoot and twies coold.

Of many a pilgrym hastow Cristes curs,

4350 For of thy percely yet they fare the wors,

That they han eten with thy stubbel goos,

For in thy shoppe is many a flye loos.

Now telle on, gentil Roger by thy name.

But yet I pray thee, be nat wroth for game;

A man may seye ful sooth in game and pley."

"Thou seist ful sooth," quod Roger, "by my fey!

But `sooth pley, quaad pley,' as the Flemyng seith.

And therfore, Herry Bailly, by thy feith,

Be thou nat wrooth, er we departen heer,

4360 Though that my tale be of an hostileer.

But nathelees I wol nat telle it yit;

But er we parte, ywis, thou shalt be quit."

And therwithal he lough and made cheere,

And seyde his tale, as ye shul after heere.

THE COOK'S TALE

A prentys whilom dwelled in oure citee,

And of a craft of vitailliers was hee.

Gaillard he was as goldfynch in the shawe,

Broun as a berye, a propre short felawe,

With lokkes blake, ykembd ful fetisly.

4370 Dauncen he koude so wel and jolily

That he was cleped Perkyn Revelour.

He was as ful of love and paramour

As is the hyve ful of hony sweete;

Wel was the wenche with hym myghte meete.

At every bridale wolde he synge and hoppe;

He loved bet the taverne than the shoppe.

For whan ther any ridyng was in Chepe,

Out of the shoppe thider wolde he lepe --

Til that he hadde al the sighte yseyn,

4380 And daunced wel, he wolde nat come ayeyn --

And gadered hym a meynee of his sort

To hoppe and synge and maken swich disport;

And ther they setten stevene for to meete,

To pleyen at the dys in swich a streete.

For in the toune nas ther no prentys

That fairer koude caste a paire of dys

Than Perkyn koude, and therto he was free

Of his dispense, in place of pryvetee.

That fond his maister wel in his chaffare,

4390 For often tyme he foond his box ful bare.

For sikerly a prentys revelour

That haunteth dys, riot, or paramour,

His maister shal it in his shoppe abye,

Al have he no part of the mynstralcye.

For thefte and riot, they been convertible,

Al konne he pleye on gyterne or ribible.

Revel and trouthe, as in a lowe degree,

They been ful wrothe al day, as men may see.

This joly prentys with his maister bood,

4400 Til he were ny out of his prentishood,

Al were he snybbed bothe erly and late,

And somtyme lad with revel to Newegate.

But atte laste his maister hym bithoghte,

Upon a day, whan he his papir soghte,

Of a proverbe that seith this same word:

"Wel bet is roten appul out of hoord

Than that it rotie al the remenaunt."

So fareth it by a riotous servaunt;

It is ful lasse harm to lete hym pace,

4410 Than he shende alle the servantz in the place.

Therfore his maister yaf hym acquitance,

And bad hym go, with sorwe and with meschance!

And thus this joly prentys hadde his leve.

Now lat hym riote al the nyght or leve.

And for ther is no theef withoute a lowke,

That helpeth hym to wasten and to sowke

Of that he brybe kan or borwe may,

Anon he sente his bed and his array

Unto a compeer of his owene sort,

4420 That lovede dys, and revel, and disport,

And hadde a wyf that heeld for contenance

A shoppe, and swyved for hir sustenance.

THE MAN OF LAW'S INTRODUCTION AND PROLOGUE

Oure Hooste saugh wel that the brighte sonne

The ark of his artificial day hath ronne

The ferthe part, and half an houre and moore,

And though he were not depe ystert in loore,

He wiste it was the eightetethe day

Of Aprill, that is messager to May;

And saugh wel that the shadwe of every tree

Was in lengthe the same quantitee

That was the body erect that caused it.

10 And therefore by the shadwe he took his wit

That Phebus, which that shoon so clere and brighte,

Degrees was fyve and fourty clombe on highte,

And for that day, as in that latitude,

It was ten of the clokke, he gan conclude,

And sodeynly he plighte his horse aboute.

"Lordynges," quod he, "I warne yow, al this route,

The fourthe party of this day is gon.

Now for the love of God and of Seint John,

Leseth no tyme, as ferforth as ye may.

20 Lordynges, the tyme wasteth nyght and day,

And steleth from us, what pryvely slepynge,

And what thurgh necligence in oure wakynge,

As dooth the streem that turneth nevere agayn,

Descendynge from the mountaigne into playn.

Wel kan Senec and many a philosophre

Biwaillen tyme moore than gold in cofre;

For `Los of catel may recovered be,

But los of tyme shendeth us,' quod he.

It wol nat come agayn, withouten drede,

30 Nomoore than wole Malkynes maydenhede,

Whan she hath lost it in hir wantownesse.

Lat us nat mowlen thus in ydelnesse.

"Sire Man of Lawe," quod he, "so have ye blis,

Telle us a tale anon, as forward is.

Ye been submytted, thurgh youre free assent,

To stonden in this cas at my juggement.

Acquiteth yow now of youre biheeste;

Thanne have ye do youre devoir atte leeste."

"Hooste," quod he, "depardieux, ich assente;

40 To breke forward is nat myn entente.

Biheste is dette, and I wole holde fayn

Al my biheste, I kan no bettre sayn.

For swich lawe as a man yeveth another wight,

He sholde hymselven usen it, by right;

Thus wole oure text. But nathelees, certeyn,

I kan right now no thrifty tale seyn

That Chaucer, thogh he kan but lewedly

On metres and on rymyng craftily,

Hath seyd hem in swich Englissh as he kan

50 Of olde tyme, as knoweth many a man;

And if he have noght seyd hem, leve brother,

In o book, he hath seyd hem in another.

For he hath toold of loveris up and doun

Mo than Ovide made of mencioun

In his Episteles, that been ful olde.

What sholde I tellen hem, syn they been tolde?

"In youthe he made of Ceys and Alcione,

And sitthen hath he spoken of everichone,

Thise noble wyves and thise loveris eke.

60 Whoso that wole his large volume seke,

Cleped the Seintes Legende of Cupide,

Ther may he seen the large woundes wyde

Of Lucresse, and of Babilan Tesbee;

The swerd of Dido for the false Enee;

The tree of Phillis for hire Demophon;

The pleinte of Dianire and of Hermyon,

Of Adriane, and of Isiphilee --

The bareyne yle stondynge in the see --

The dreynte Leandre for his Erro;

70 The teeris of Eleyne, and eek the wo

Of Brixseyde, and of the, Ladomya;

The crueltee of the, queene Medea,

Thy litel children hangynge by the hals,

For thy Jason, that was of love so fals!

O Ypermystra, Penelopee, Alceste,

Youre wifhod he comendeth with the beste!

"But certeinly no word ne writeth he

Of thilke wikke ensample of Canacee,

That loved hir owene brother synfully --

80 Of swiche cursed stories I sey fy! --

Or ellis of Tyro Appollonius,

How that the cursed kyng Antiochus

Birafte his doghter of hir maydenhede,

That is so horrible a tale for to rede,

Whan he hir threw upon the pavement.

And therfore he, of ful avysement,

Nolde nevere write in none of his sermons

Of swiche unkynde abhomynacions,

Ne I wol noon reherce, if that I may.

90 "But of my tale how shal I doon this day?

Me were looth be likned, doutelees,

To Muses that men clepe Pierides --

Methamorphosios woot what I mene;

But nathelees, I recche noght a bene

Though I come after hym with hawebake.

I speke in prose, and lat him rymes make."

And with that word he, with a sobre cheere,

Bigan his tale, as ye shal after heere.

O hateful harm, condicion of poverte!

100 With thurst, with coold, with hunger so confoundid!

To asken help thee shameth in thyn herte;

If thou noon aske, with nede artow so woundid

That verray nede unwrappeth al thy wounde hid!

Maugree thyn heed, thou most for indigence

Or stele, or begge, or borwe thy despence!

Thow blamest Crist and seist ful bitterly

He mysdeparteth richesse temporal;

Thy neighebor thou wytest synfully,

And seist thou hast to lite and he hath al.

110 "Parfay," seistow, "somtyme he rekene shal,

Whan that his tayl shal brennen in the gleede,

For he noght helpeth needfulle in hir neede."

Herkne what is the sentence of the wise:

"Bet is to dyen than have indigence";

"Thy selve neighebor wol thee despise."

If thou be povre, farwel thy reverence!

Yet of the wise man take this sentence:

"Alle the dayes of povre men been wikke."

Be war, therfore, er thou come to that prikke!

120 If thou be povre, thy brother hateth thee,

And alle thy freendes fleen from thee, allas!

O riche marchauntz, ful of wele been yee,

O noble, o prudent folk, as in this cas!

Youre bagges been nat fild with ambes as,

But with sys cynk, that renneth for youre chaunce;

At Cristemasse myrie may ye daunce!

Ye seken lond and see for yowre wynnynges;

As wise folk ye knowen al th' estaat

Of regnes; ye been fadres of tidynges

130 And tales, bothe of pees and of debaat.

I were right now of tales desolaat,

Nere that a marchant, goon is many a yeere,

Me taughte a tale, which that ye shal heere.

THE MAN OF LAW'S TALE

In Surrye whilom dwelte a compaignye

Of chapmen riche, and therto sadde and trewe,

That wyde-where senten hir spicerye,

Clothes of gold, and satyns riche of hewe.

Hir chaffare was so thrifty and so newe

That every wight hath deyntee to chaffare

140 With hem, and eek to sellen hem hire ware.

Now fil it that the maistres of that sort

Han shapen hem to Rome for to wende;

Were it for chapmanhod or for disport,

Noon oother message wolde they thider sende,

But comen hemself to Rome; this is the ende.

And in swich place as thoughte hem avantage

For hire entente, they take hir herbergage.

Sojourned han thise merchantz in that toun

A certein tyme, as fil to hire plesance.

150 And so bifel that th' excellent renoun

Of the Emperoures doghter, dame Custance,

Reported was, with every circumstance,

Unto thise Surryen marchantz in swich wyse,

Fro day to day, as I shal yow devyse.

This was the commune voys of every man:

"Oure Emperour of Rome -- God hym see! --

A doghter hath that, syn the world bigan,

To rekene as wel hir goodnesse as beautee,

Nas nevere swich another as is shee.

160 I prey to God in honour hire susteene,

And wolde she were of al Europe the queene.

"In hire is heigh beautee, withoute pride,

Yowthe, withoute grenehede or folye;

To alle hire werkes vertu is hir gyde;

Humblesse hath slayn in hire al tirannye.

She is mirour of alle curteisye;

Hir herte is verray chambre of hoolynesse,

Hir hand, ministre of fredam for almesse."

And al this voys was sooth, as God is trewe.

170 But now to purpos lat us turne agayn.

Thise marchantz han doon fraught hir shippes newe,

And whan they han this blisful mayden sayn,

Hoom to Surrye been they went ful fayn,

And doon hir nedes as they han doon yoore,

And lyven in wele; I kan sey yow namoore.

Now fil it that thise marchantz stode in grace

Of hym that was the Sowdan of Surrye;

For whan they cam from any strange place,

He wolde, of his benigne curteisye,

180 Make hem good chiere, and bisily espye

Tidynges of sondry regnes, for to leere

The wondres that they myghte seen or heere.

Amonges othere thynges, specially,

Thise marchantz han hym toold of dame Custance

So greet noblesse in ernest, ceriously,

That this Sowdan hath caught so greet plesance

To han hir figure in his remembrance,

That al his lust and al his bisy cure

Was for to love hire while his lyf may dure.

190 Paraventure in thilke large book

Which that men clepe the hevene ywriten was

With sterres, whan that he his birthe took,

That he for love sholde han his deeth, allas!

For in the sterres, clerer than is glas,

Is writen, God woot, whoso koude it rede,

The deeth of every man, withouten drede.

In sterres, many a wynter therbiforn,

Was writen the deeth of Ector, Achilles,

Of Pompei, Julius, er they were born;

200 The strif of Thebes; and of Ercules,

Of Sampson, Turnus, and of Socrates

The deeth; but mennes wittes ben so dulle

That no wight kan wel rede it atte fulle.

This Sowdan for his privee conseil sente,

And, shortly of this matiere for to pace,

He hath to hem declared his entente,

And seyde hem, certein, but he myghte have grace

To han Custance withinne a litel space,

He nas but deed; and charged hem in hye

210 To shapen for his lyf som remedye.

Diverse men diverse thynges seyden;

They argumenten, casten up and doun;

Many a subtil resoun forth they leyden;

They speken of magyk and abusioun.

But finally, as in conclusioun,

They kan nat seen in that noon avantage,

Ne in noon oother wey, save mariage.

Thanne sawe they therinne swich difficultee

By wey of reson, for to speke al playn,

220 By cause that ther was swich diversitee

Bitwene hir bothe lawes, that they sayn

They trowe that no "Cristen prince wolde fayn

Wedden his child under oure lawe sweete

That us was taught by Mahoun, oure prophete."

And he answerde, "Rather than I lese

Custance, I wol be cristned, doutelees.

I moot been hires; I may noon oother chese.

I prey yow hoold youre argumentz in pees;

Saveth my lyf, and beth noght recchelees

230 To geten hire that hath my lyf in cure,

For in this wo I may nat longe endure."

What nedeth gretter dilatacioun?

I seye, by tretys and embassadrie,

And by the popes mediacioun,

And al the chirche, and al the chivalrie,

That in destruccioun of mawmettrie,

And in encrees of Cristes lawe deere,

They been acorded, so as ye shal heere:

How that the Sowdan and his baronage

240 And alle his liges sholde ycristned be,

And he shal han Custance in mariage,

And certein gold, I noot what quantitee;

And heer-to founden sufficient suretee.

This same accord was sworn on eyther syde;

Now, faire Custance, almyghty God thee gyde!

Now wolde som men waiten, as I gesse,

That I sholde tellen al the purveiance

That th' Emperour, of his grete noblesse,

Hath shapen for his doghter, dame Custance.

250 Wel may men knowen that so greet ordinance

May no man tellen in a litel clause

As was arrayed for so heigh a cause.

Bisshopes been shapen with hire for to wende,

Lordes, ladies, knyghtes of renoun,

And oother folk ynowe; this is th' ende;

And notified is thurghout the toun

That every wight, with greet devocioun,

Sholde preyen Crist that he this mariage

Receyve in gree and spede this viage.

260 The day is comen of hir departynge;

I seye, the woful day fatal is come,

That ther may be no lenger tariynge,

But forthward they hem dressen, alle and some.

Custance, that was with sorwe al overcome,

Ful pale arist, and dresseth hire to wende;

For wel she seeth ther is noon oother ende.

Allas, what wonder is it thogh she wepte,

That shal be sent to strange nacioun

Fro freendes that so tendrely hire kepte,

270 And to be bounden under subjeccioun

Of oon, she knoweth nat his condicioun?

Housbondes been alle goode, and han ben yoore;

That knowen wyves; I dar sey yow na moore.

"Fader," she seyde, "thy wrecched child Custance,

Thy yonge doghter fostred up so softe,

And ye, my mooder, my soverayn plesance

Over alle thyng, out-taken Crist on-lofte,

Custance youre child hire recomandeth ofte

Unto youre grace, for I shal to Surrye,

280 Ne shal I nevere seen yow moore with ye.

"Allas, unto the Barbre nacioun

I moste anoon, syn that it is youre wille;

But Crist, that starf for our redempcioun

So yeve me grace his heestes to fulfille!

I, wrecche womman, no fors though I spille!

Wommen are born to thraldom and penance,

And to been under mannes governance."

I trowe at Troye, whan Pirrus brak the wal

Or Ilion brende, at Thebes the citee,

290 N' at Rome, for the harm thurgh Hanybal

That Romayns hath venquysshed tymes thre,

Nas herd swich tendre wepyng for pitee

As in the chambre was for hire departynge;

But forth she moot, wher-so she wepe or synge.

O firste moevyng! Crueel firmament,

With thy diurnal sweigh that crowdest ay

And hurlest al from est til occident

That naturelly wolde holde another way,

Thy crowdyng set the hevene in swich array

300 At the bigynnyng of this fiers viage,

That crueel Mars hath slayn this mariage.

Infortunat ascendent tortuous,

Of which the lord is helplees falle, allas,

Out of his angle into the derkeste hous!

O Mars, o atazir, as in this cas!

O fieble moone, unhappy been thy paas!

Thou knyttest thee ther thou art nat receyved;

Ther thou were weel, fro thennes artow weyved.

Imprudent Emperour of Rome, allas!

310 Was ther no philosophre in al thy toun?

Is no tyme bet than oother in swich cas?

Of viage is ther noon eleccioun,

Namely to folk of heigh condicioun?

Noght whan a roote is of a burthe yknowe?

Allas, we been to lewed or to slowe!

To shippe is brought this woful faire mayde

Solempnely, with every circumstance.

"Now Jhesu Crist be with yow alle!" she sayde;

Ther nys namoore, but "Farewel, faire Custance!"

320 She peyneth hire to make good contenance;

And forth I lete hire saille in this manere,

And turne I wole agayn to my matere.

The mooder of the Sowdan, welle of vices,

Espied hath hir sones pleyn entente,

How he wol lete his olde sacrifices;

And right anon she for hir conseil sente,

And they been come to knowe what she mente.

And whan assembled was this folk in-feere,

She sette hire doun, and seyde as ye shal heere.

330 "Lordes," quod she, "ye knowen everichon,

How that my sone in point is for to lete

The hooly lawes of our Alkaron,

Yeven by Goddes message Makomete.

But oon avow to grete God I heete,

The lyf shal rather out of my body sterte

Or Makometes lawe out of myn herte!

"What sholde us tyden of this newe lawe

But thraldom to oure bodies and penance,

And afterward in helle to be drawe,

340 For we reneyed Mahoun oure creance?

But, lordes, wol ye maken assurance,

As I shal seyn, assentynge to my loore,

And I shal make us sauf for everemoore?"

They sworen and assenten, every man,

To lyve with hire and dye, and by hire stonde,

And everich, in the beste wise he kan,

To strengthen hire shal alle his frendes fonde;

And she hath this emprise ytake on honde,

Which ye shal heren that I shal devyse,

350 And to hem alle she spak right in this wyse:

"We shul first feyne us cristendom to take --

Coold water shal nat greve us but a lite! --

And I shal swich a feeste and revel make

That, as I trowe, I shal the Sowdan quite.

For thogh his wyf be cristned never so white,

She shal have nede to wasshe awey the rede,

Thogh she a font-ful water with hire lede."

O Sowdanesse, roote of iniquitee!

Virago, thou Semyrame the secounde!

360 O serpent under femynynytee,

Lik to the serpent depe in helle ybounde!

O feyned womman, al that may confounde

Vertu and innocence, thurgh thy malice,

Is bred in thee, as nest of every vice!

O Sathan, envious syn thilke day

That thou were chaced from oure heritage,

Wel knowestow to wommen the olde way!

Thou madest Eva brynge us in servage;

Thou wolt fordoon this Cristen mariage.

370 Thyn instrument so -- weylawey the while! --

Makestow of wommen, whan thou wolt bigile.

This Sowdanesse, whom I thus blame and warye,

Leet prively hire conseil goon hire way.

What sholde I in this tale lenger tarye?

She rydeth to the Sowdan on a day,

And seyde hym that she wolde reneye hir lay,

And cristendom of preestes handes fonge,

Repentynge hire she hethen was so longe,

Bisechynge hym to doon hire that honour,

380 That she moste han the Cristen folk to feeste --

"To plesen hem I wol do my labour."

The Sowdan seith, "I wol doon at youre heeste,"

And knelynge thanketh hire of that requeste.

So glad he was, he nyste what to seye.

She kiste hir sone, and hoom she gooth hir weye.

Arryved been this Cristen folk to londe

In Surrye, with a greet solempne route,

And hastifliche this Sowdan sente his sonde

First to his mooder, and al the regne aboute,

390 And seyde his wyf was comen, out of doute,

And preyde hire for to ryde agayn the queene,

The honour of his regne to susteene.

Greet was the prees, and riche was th' array

Of Surryens and Romayns met yfeere;

The mooder of the Sowdan, riche and gay,

Receyveth hire with also glad a cheere

As any mooder myghte hir doghter deere,

And to the nexte citee ther bisyde

A softe paas solempnely they ryde.

400 Noght trowe I the triumphe of Julius,

Of which that Lucan maketh swich a boost,

Was roialler ne moore curius

Than was th' assemblee of this blisful hoost.

But this scorpioun, this wikked goost,

The Sowdanesse, for al hire flaterynge,

Caste under this ful mortally to stynge.

The Sowdan comth hymself soone after this

So roially that wonder is to telle,

And welcometh hire with alle joye and blis.

410 And thus in murthe and joye I lete hem dwelle;

The fruyt of this matiere is that I telle.

Whan tyme cam, men thoughte it for the beste

That revel stynte, and men goon to hir reste.

The tyme cam, this olde Sowdanesse

Ordeyned hath this feeste of which I tolde,

And to the feeste Cristen folk hem dresse

In general, ye, bothe yonge and olde.

Heere may men feeste and roialtee biholde,

And deyntees mo than I kan yow devyse;

420 But al to deere they boghte it er they ryse.

O sodeyn wo, that evere art successour

To worldly blisse, spreynd with bitternesse,

The ende of the joye of oure worldly labour!

Wo occupieth the fyn of oure gladnesse.

Herke this conseil for thy sikernesse:

Upon thy glade day have in thy mynde

The unwar wo or harm that comth bihynde.

For shortly for to tellen, at o word,

The Sowdan and the Cristen everichone

430 Been al tohewe and stiked at the bord,

But it were oonly dame Custance allone.

This olde Sowdanesse, cursed krone,

Hath with hir freendes doon this cursed dede,

For she hirself wolde al the contree lede.

Ne ther was Surryen noon that was converted,

That of the conseil of the Sowdan woot,

That he nas al tohewe er he asterted.

And Custance han they take anon, foot-hoot,

And in a ship al steerelees, God woot,

440 They han hir set, and bidde hire lerne saille

Out of Surrye agaynward to Ytaille.

A certein tresor that she thider ladde,

And, sooth to seyn, vitaille greet plentee

They han hire yeven, and clothes eek she hadde,

And forth she sailleth in the salte see.

O my Custance, ful of benignytee,

O Emperoures yonge doghter deere,

He that is lord of Fortune be thy steere!

She blesseth hire, and with ful pitous voys

450 Unto the croys of Crist thus seyde she:

"O cleere, o welful auter, hooly croys,

Reed of the Lambes blood ful of pitee,

That wessh the world fro the olde iniquitee,

Me fro the feend and fro his clawes kepe,

That day that I shal drenchen in the depe.

"Victorious tree, proteccioun of trewe,

That oonly worthy were for to bere

The Kyng of Hevene with his woundes newe,

The white Lamb, that hurt was with a spere,

460 Flemere of feendes out of hym and here

On which thy lymes feithfully extenden,

Me kepe, and yif me myght my lyf t' amenden."

Yeres and dayes fleet this creature

Thurghout the See of Grece unto the Strayte

Of Marrok, as it was hire aventure.

On many a sory meel now may she bayte;

After hir deeth ful often may she wayte,

Er that the wilde wawes wol hire dryve

Unto the place ther she shal arryve.

470 Men myghten asken why she was nat slayn

Eek at the feeste? Who myghte hir body save?

And I answere to that demande agayn,

Who saved Danyel in the horrible cave

Ther every wight save he, maister and knave,

Was with the leon frete er he asterte?

No wight but God that he bar in his herte.

God liste to shewe his wonderful myracle

In hire, for we sholde seen his myghty werkis;

Crist, which that is to every harm triacle,

480 By certeine meenes ofte, as knowen clerkis,

Dooth thyng for certein ende that ful derk is

To mannes wit, that for oure ignorance

Ne konne noght knowe his prudent purveiance.

Now sith she was nat at the feeste yslawe,

Who kepte hire fro the drenchyng in the see?

Who kepte Jonas in the fisshes mawe

Til he was spouted up at Nynyvee?

Wel may men knowe it was no wight but he

That kepte peple Ebrayk from hir drenchynge,

490 With drye feet thurghout the see passynge.

Who bad the foure spirites of tempest

That power han t' anoyen lond and see,

Bothe north and south, and also west and est,

"Anoyeth neither see, ne land, ne tree"?

Soothly, the comandour of that was he

That fro the tempest ay this womman kepte

As wel whan she wook as whan she slepte.

Where myghte this womman mete and drynke have

Thre yeer and moore? How lasteth hire vitaille?

500 Who fedde the Egipcien Marie in the cave,

Or in desert? No wight but Crist, sanz faille.

Fyve thousand folk it was as greet mervaille

With loves fyve and fisshes two to feede.

God sente his foyson at hir grete neede.

She dryveth forth into oure occian

Thurghout oure wilde see, til atte laste

Under an hoold that nempnen I ne kan,

Fer in Northhumberlond the wawe hire caste,

And in the sond hir ship stiked so faste

510 That thennes wolde it noght of al a tyde;

The wyl of Crist was that she sholde abyde.

The constable of the castel doun is fare

To seen this wrak, and al the ship he soghte,

And foond this wery womman ful of care;

He foond also the tresor that she broghte.

In hir langage mercy she bisoghte,

The lyf out of hir body for to twynne,

Hire to delivere of wo that she was inne.

A maner Latyn corrupt was hir speche,

520 But algates therby was she understonde.

The constable, whan hym lyst no longer seche,

This woful womman broghte he to the londe.

She kneleth doun and thanketh Goddes sonde;

But what she was she wolde no man seye,

For foul ne fair, thogh that she sholde deye.

She seyde she was so mazed in the see

That she forgat hir mynde, by hir trouthe.

The constable hath of hire so greet pitee,

And eek his wyf, that they wepen for routhe.

530 She was so diligent, withouten slouthe,

To serve and plesen everich in that place

That alle hir loven that looken in hir face.

This constable and dame Hermengyld, his wyf,

Were payens, and that contree everywhere;

But Hermengyld loved hire right as hir lyf,

And Custance hath so longe sojourned there,

In orisons, with many a bitter teere,

Til Jhesu hath converted thurgh his grace

Dame Hermengyld, constablesse of that place.

540 In al that lond no Cristen dorste route;

Alle Cristen folk been fled fro that contree

Thurgh payens, that conquereden al aboute

The plages of the north, by land and see.

To Walys fledde the Cristyanytee

Of olde Britons dwellynge in this ile;

Ther was hir refut for the meene while.

But yet nere Cristene Britons so exiled

That ther nere somme that in hir privetee

Honoured Crist and hethen folk bigiled,

550 And ny the castel swiche ther dwelten three.

That oon of hem was blynd and myghte nat see,

But it were with thilke eyen of his mynde

With whiche men seen, after that they ben blynde.

Bright was the sonne as in that someres day,

For which the constable and his wyf also

And Custance han ytake the righte way

Toward the see a furlong wey or two,

To pleyen and to romen to and fro,

And in hir walk this blynde man they mette,

560 Croked and oold, with eyen faste yshette.

"In name of Crist," cride this blinde Britoun,

"Dame Hermengyld, yif me my sighte agayn!"

This lady weex affrayed of the soun,

Lest that hir housbonde, shortly for to sayn,

Wolde hire for Jhesu Cristes love han slayn,

Til Custance made hire boold, and bad hire wirche

The wyl of Crist, as doghter of his chirche.

The constable weex abasshed of that sight,

And seyde, "What amounteth al this fare?"

570 Custance answerde, "Sire, it is Cristes myght,

That helpeth folk out of the feendes snare."

And so ferforth she gan oure lay declare

That she the constable, er that it was eve

Converteth, and on Crist made hym bileve.

This constable was nothyng lord of this place

Of which I speke, ther he Custance fond,

But kepte it strongly many a wyntres space

Under Alla, kyng of al Northhumbrelond,

That was ful wys, and worthy of his hond

580 Agayn the Scottes, as men may wel heere;

But turne I wole agayn to my mateere.

Sathan, that evere us waiteth to bigile,

Saugh of Custance al hire perfeccioun,

And caste anon how he myghte quite hir while,

And made a yong knyght that dwelte in that toun

Love hire so hoote, of foul affeccioun,

That verraily hym thoughte he sholde spille,

But he of hire myghte ones have his wille.

He woweth hire, but it availleth noght;

590 She wolde do no synne, by no weye.

And for despit he compassed in his thoght

To maken hire on shameful deeth to deye.

He wayteth whan the constable was aweye,

And pryvely upon a nyght he crepte

In Hermengyldes chambre, whil she slepte.

Wery, forwaked in hire orisouns,

Slepeth Custance, and Hermengyld also.

This knyght, thurgh Sathanas temptaciouns,

Al softely is to the bed ygo,

600 And kitte the throte of Hermengyld atwo,

And leyde the blody knyf by dame Custance,

And wente his wey, ther God yeve hym meschance!

Soone after cometh this constable hoom agayn,

And eek Alla, that kyng was of that lond,

And saugh his wyf despitously yslayn,

For which ful ofte he weep and wroong his hond,

And in the bed the blody knyf he fond

By Dame Custance. Allas, what myghte she seye?

For verray wo hir wit was al aweye.

610 To kyng Alla was toold al this meschance,

And eek the tyme, and where, and in what wise

That in a ship was founden this Custance,

As heer-biforn that ye han herd devyse.

The kynges herte of pitee gan agryse,

Whan he saugh so benigne a creature

Falle in disese and in mysaventure.

For as the lomb toward his deeth is broght,

So stant this innocent bifore the kyng.

This false knyght, that hath this tresoun wroght,

620 Berth hire on hond that she hath doon thys thyng.

But nathelees, ther was greet moornyng

Among the peple, and seyn they kan nat gesse

That she had doon so greet a wikkednesse,

For they han seyn hire evere so vertuous,

And lovynge Hermengyld right as hir lyf.

Of this baar witnesse everich in that hous,

Save he that Hermengyld slow with his knyf.

This gentil kyng hath caught a greet motyf

Of this witnesse, and thoghte he wolde enquere

630 Depper in this, a trouthe for to lere.

Allas! Custance, thou hast no champioun,

Ne fighte kanstow noght, so weylaway!

But he that starf for our redempcioun,

And boond Sathan (and yet lith ther he lay),

So be thy stronge champion this day!

For, but if Crist open myracle kithe,

Withouten gilt thou shalt be slayn as swithe.

She sette hire doun on knees, and thus she sayde:

"Immortal God, that savedest Susanne

640 Fro false blame, and thou, merciful mayde,

Marie I meene, doghter to Seint Anne,

Bifore whos child angeles synge Osanne,

If I be giltlees of this felonye,

My socour be, for ellis shal I dye!"

Have ye nat seyn somtyme a pale face,

Among a prees, of hym that hath be lad

Toward his deeth, wher as hym gat no grace,

And swich a colour in his face hath had

Men myghte knowe his face that was bistad

650 Amonges alle the faces in that route?

So stant Custance, and looketh hire aboute.

O queenes, lyvynge in prosperitee,

Duchesses, and ye ladyes everichone,

Haveth som routhe on hire adversitee!

An Emperoures doghter stant allone;

She hath no wight to whom to make hir mone.

O blood roial, that stondest in this drede,

Fer been thy freendes at thy grete nede!

This Alla kyng hath swich compassioun,

660 As gentil herte is fulfild of pitee,

That from his eyen ran the water doun.

"Now hastily do fecche a book," quod he,

"And if this knyght wol sweren how that she

This womman slow, yet wol we us avyse

Whom that we wole that shal been oure justise."

A Britoun book, written with Evaungiles,

Was fet, and on this book he swoor anoon

She gilty was, and in the meene whiles

An hand hym smoot upon the nekke-boon,

670 That doun he fil atones as a stoon,

And bothe his eyen broste out of his face

In sighte of every body in that place.

A voys was herd in general audience,

And seyde, "Thou hast desclaundred, giltelees,

The doghter of hooly chirche in heigh presence;

Thus hastou doon, and yet holde I my pees!"

Of this mervaille agast was al the prees;

As mazed folk they stoden everichone,

For drede of wreche, save Custance allone.

680 Greet was the drede and eek the repentance

Of hem that hadden wrong suspecioun

Upon this sely innocent, Custance;

And for this miracle, in conclusioun,

And by Custances mediacioun,

The kyng -- and many another in that place --

Converted was, thanked be Cristes grace!

This false knyght was slayn for his untrouthe

By juggement of Alla hastifly;

And yet Custance hadde of his deeth greet routhe.

690 And after this Jhesus, of his mercy,

Made Alla wedden ful solempnely

This hooly mayden, that is so bright and sheene;

And thus hath Crist ymaad Custance a queene.

But who was woful, if I shal nat lye,

Of this weddyng but Donegild, and namo,

The kynges mooder, ful of tirannye?

Hir thoughte hir cursed herte brast atwo.

She wolde noght hir sone had do so;

Hir thoughte a despit that he sholde take

700 So strange a creature unto his make.

Me list nat of the chaf, ne of the stree,

Maken so long a tale as of the corn.

What sholde I tellen of the roialtee

At mariage, or which cours goth biforn;

Who bloweth in a trumpe or in an horn?

The fruyt of every tale is for to seye:

They ete, and drynke, and daunce, and synge, and pleye.

They goon to bedde, as it was skile and right;

For thogh that wyves be ful hooly thynges,

710 They moste take in pacience at nyght

Swiche manere necessaries as been plesynges

To folk that han ywedded hem with rynges,

And leye a lite hir hoolynesse aside,

As for the tyme -- it may no bet bitide.

On hire he gat a knave child anon,

And to a bisshop, and his constable eke,

He took his wyf to kepe, whan he is gon

To Scotlond-ward, his foomen for to seke.

Now faire Custance, that is so humble and meke,

720 So longe is goon with childe, til that stille

She halt hire chambre, abidyng Cristes wille.

The tyme is come a knave child she beer;

Mauricius at the fontstoon they hym calle.

This constable dooth forth come a messageer,

And wroot unto his kyng, that cleped was Alle,

How that this blisful tidyng is bifalle,

And othere tidynges spedeful for to seye.

He taketh the lettre, and forth he gooth his weye.

This messager, to doon his avantage,

730 Unto the kynges mooder rideth swithe,

And salueth hire ful faire in his langage:

"Madame," quod he, "ye may be glad and blithe,

And thanketh God an hundred thousand sithe!

My lady queene hath child, withouten doute,

To joye and blisse to al this regne aboute.

"Lo, heere the lettres seled of this thyng,

That I moot bere with al the haste I may.

If ye wol aught unto youre sone the kyng,

I am youre servant, bothe nyght and day."

740 Donegild answerde, "As now at this tyme, nay;

But heere al nyght I wol thou take thy reste.

To-morwe wol I seye thee what me leste."

This messager drank sadly ale and wyn,

And stolen were his lettres pryvely

Out of his box, whil he sleep as a swyn;

And countrefeted was ful subtilly

Another lettre, wroght ful synfully,

Unto the kyng direct of this mateere

Fro his constable, as ye shal after heere.

750 The lettre spak the queene delivered was

Of so horrible a feendly creature

That in the castel noon so hardy was

That any while dorste ther endure.

The mooder was an elf, by aventure

Ycomen, by charmes or by sorcerie,

And every wight hateth hir compaignye.

Wo was this kyng whan he this lettre had sayn,

But to no wight he tolde his sorwes soore,

But of his owene hand he wroot agayn,

760 "Welcome the sonde of Crist for everemoore

To me that am now lerned in his loore!

Lord, welcome be thy lust and thy plesaunce;

My lust I putte al in thyn ordinaunce.

"Kepeth this child, al be it foul or feir,

And eek my wyf, unto myn hoom-comynge.

Crist, whan hym list, may sende me an heir

Moore agreable than this to my likynge."

This lettre he seleth, pryvely wepynge,

Which to the messager was take soone,

770 And forth he gooth; ther is na moore to doone.

O messager, fulfild of dronkenesse,

Strong is thy breeth, thy lymes faltren ay,

And thou biwreyest alle secreenesse.

Thy mynde is lorn, thou janglest as a jay,

Thy face is turned in a newe array.

Ther dronkenesse regneth in any route,

Ther is no conseil hyd, withouten doute.

O Donegild, I ne have noon Englissh digne

Unto thy malice and thy tirannye!

780 And therfore to the feend I thee resigne;

Lat hym enditen of thy traitorie!

Fy, mannysh, fy! -- o nay, by God, I lye --

Fy, feendlych spirit, for I dar wel telle,

Thogh thou heere walke, thy spirit is in helle!

This messager comth fro the kyng agayn,

And at the kynges moodres court he lighte,

And she was of this messager ful fayn,

And plesed hym in al that ever she myghte.

He drank, and wel his girdel underpighte;

790 He slepeth, and he fnorteth in his gyse

Al nyght, til the sonne gan aryse.

Eft were his lettres stolen everychon,

And countrefeted lettres in this wyse:

"The king comandeth his constable anon,

Up peyne of hangyng, and on heigh juyse,

That he ne sholde suffren in no wyse

Custance in-with his reawme for t' abyde

Thre dayes and o quarter of a tyde;

"But in the same ship as he hire fond,

800 Hire, and hir yonge sone, and al hir geere,

He sholde putte, and croude hire fro the lond,

And charge hire that she never eft coome theere."

O my Custance, wel may thy goost have feere,

And, slepynge, in thy dreem been in penance,

Whan Donegild cast al this ordinance.

This messager on morwe, whan he wook,

Unto the castel halt the nexte way,

And to the constable he the lettre took;

And whan that he this pitous lettre say,

810 Ful ofte he seyde, "Allas and weylaway!"

"Lord Crist," quod he, "how may this world endure,

So ful of synne is many a creature?

"O myghty God, if that it be thy wille,

Sith thou art rightful juge, how may it be

That thou wolt suffren innocentz to spille,

And wikked folk regne in prosperitee?

O goode Custance, allas, so wo is me

That I moot be thy tormentour, or deye

On shames deeth; ther is noon oother weye."

820 Wepen bothe yonge and olde in al that place

Whan that the kyng this cursed lettre sente,

And Custance, with a deedly pale face,

The ferthe day toward hir ship she wente.

But nathelees she taketh in good entente

The wyl of Crist, and knelynge on the stronde,

She seyde, "Lord, ay welcome be thy sonde!

"He that me kepte fro the false blame

While I was on the lond amonges yow,

He kan me kepe from harm and eek fro shame

830 In salte see, althogh I se noght how.

As strong as evere he was, he is yet now.

In hym triste I, and in his mooder deere,

That is to me my seyl and eek my steere."

Hir litel child lay wepyng in hir arm,

And knelynge, pitously to hym she seyde,

"Pees, litel sone, I wol do thee noon harm."

With that hir coverchief of hir heed she breyde,

And over his litel eyen she it leyde,

And in hir arm she lulleth it ful faste,

840 And into hevene hire eyen up she caste.

"Mooder," quod she, "and mayde bright, Marie,

Sooth is that thurgh wommanes eggement

Mankynde was lorn, and damned ay to dye,

For which thy child was on a croys yrent.

Thy blisful eyen sawe al his torment;

Thanne is ther no comparison bitwene

Thy wo and any wo man may sustene.

"Thow sawe thy child yslayn bifore thyne yen,

And yet now lyveth my litel child, parfay!

850 Now, lady bright, to whom alle woful cryen,

Thow glorie of wommanhede, thow faire may,

Thow haven of refut, brighte sterre of day,

Rewe on my child, that of thy gentillesse

Rewest on every reweful in distresse.

"O litel child, allas! What is thy gilt,

That nevere wroghtest synne as yet, pardee?

Why wil thyn harde fader han thee spilt?

O mercy, deere constable," quod she,

"As lat my litel child dwelle heer with thee;

860 And if thou darst nat saven hym, for blame,

So kys hym ones in his fadres name!"

Therwith she looked bakward to the londe,

And seyde, "Farewel, housbonde routhelees!"

And up she rist, and walketh doun the stronde

Toward the ship -- hir folweth al the prees --

And evere she preyeth hire child to holde his pees;

And taketh hir leve, and with an hooly entente

She blisseth hire, and into ship she wente.

Vitailled was the ship, it is no drede,

870 Habundantly for hire ful longe space,

And othere necessaries that sholde nede

She hadde ynogh -- heryed be Goddes grace!

For wynd and weder almyghty God purchace,

And brynge hire hoom! I kan no bettre seye,

But in the see she dryveth forth hir weye.

Alla the kyng comth hoom soone after this

Unto his castel, of the which I tolde,

And asketh where his wyf and his child is.

The constable gan aboute his herte colde,

880 And pleynly al the manere he hym tolde

As ye han herd -- I kan telle it no bettre --

And sheweth the kyng his seel and eek his lettre,

And seyde, "Lord, as ye comanded me

Up peyne of deeth, so have I doon, certein."

This messager tormented was til he

Moste biknowe and tellen, plat and pleyn,

Fro nyght to nyght, in what place he had leyn;

And thus, by wit and sotil enquerynge,

Ymagined was by whom this harm gan sprynge.

890 The hand was knowe that the lettre wroot,

And al the venym of this cursed dede,

But in what wise, certeinly, I noot.

Th' effect is this: that Alla, out of drede,

His mooder slow -- that may men pleynly rede --

For that she traitour was to hire ligeance.

Thus endeth olde Donegild, with meschance!

The sorwe that this Alla nyght and day

Maketh for his wyf, and for his child also,

Ther is no tonge that it telle may.

900 But now wol I unto Custance go,

That fleteth in the see, in peyne and wo,

Fyve yeer and moore, as liked Cristes sonde,

Er that hir ship approched unto londe.

Under an hethen castel, atte laste,

Of which the name in my text noght I fynde,

Custance, and eek hir child, the see up caste.

Almyghty God, that saveth al mankynde,

Have on Custance and on hir child som mynde,

That fallen is in hethen hand eft soone,

910 In point to spille, as I shal telle yow soone.

Doun fro the castel comth ther many a wight

To gauren on this ship and on Custance.

But shortly, from the castel, on a nyght,

The lordes styward -- God yeve hym meschance! --

A theef, that hadde reneyed oure creance,

Cam into ship allone, and seyde he sholde

Hir lemman be, wher-so she wolde or nolde.

Wo was this wrecched womman tho bigon;

Hir child cride, and she cride pitously.

920 But blisful Marie heelp hire right anon;

For with hir struglyng wel and myghtily

The theef fil over bord al sodeynly,

And in the see he dreynte for vengeance;

And thus hath Crist unwemmed kept Custance.

O foule lust of luxurie, lo, thyn ende!

Nat oonly that thou feyntest mannes mynde,

But verraily thou wolt his body shende.

Th' ende of thy werk, or of thy lustes blynde,

Is compleynyng. Hou many oon may men fynde

930 That noght for werk somtyme, but for th' entente

To doon this synne, been outher slayn or shente!

How may this wayke womman han this strengthe

Hire to defende agayn this renegat?

O Golias, unmesurable of lengthe,

Hou myghte David make thee so maat,

So yong and of armure so desolaat?

Hou dorste he looke upon thy dredful face?

Wel may men seen, it nas but Goddes grace.

Who yaf Judith corage or hardynesse

940 To sleen hym Olofernus in his tente,

And to deliveren out of wrecchednesse

The peple of God? I seye, for this entente,

That right as God spirit of vigour sente

To hem and saved hem out of meschance,

So sente he myght and vigour to Custance.

Forth gooth hir ship thurghout the narwe mouth

Of Jubaltare and Septe, dryvynge ay

Somtyme west, and somtyme north and south,

And somtyme est, ful many a wery day,

950 Til Cristes mooder -- blessed be she ay! --

Hath shapen, thurgh hir endelees goodnesse,

To make an ende of al hir hevynesse.

Now lat us stynte of Custance but a throwe,

And speke we of the Romayn Emperour,

That out of Surrye hath by lettres knowe

The slaughtre of cristen folk, and dishonour

Doon to his doghter by a fals traytour,

I mene the cursed wikked Sowdanesse

That at the feeste leet sleen bothe moore and lesse.

960 For which this Emperour hath sent anon

His senatour, with roial ordinance,

And othere lordes, God woot, many oon,

On Surryens to taken heigh vengeance.

They brennen, sleen, and brynge hem to meschance

Ful many a day; but shortly -- this is th' ende --

Homward to Rome they shapen hem to wende.

This senatour repaireth with victorie

To Rome-ward, saillynge ful roially,

And mette the ship dryvynge, as seith the storie,

970 In which Custance sit ful pitously.

Nothyng ne knew he what she was, ne why

She was in swich array, ne she nyl seye

Of hire estaat, althogh she sholde deye.

He bryngeth hire to Rome, and to his wyf

He yaf hire, and hir yonge sone also;

And with the senatour she ladde hir lyf.

Thus kan Oure Lady bryngen out of wo

Woful Custance, and many another mo.

And longe tyme dwelled she in that place,

980 In hooly werkes evere, as was hir grace.

The senatoures wyf hir aunte was,

But for al that she knew hire never the moore.

I wol no lenger tarien in this cas,

But to kyng Alla, which I spak of yoore,

That for his wyf wepeth and siketh soore,

I wol retourne, and lete I wol Custance

Under the senatoures governance.

Kyng Alla, which that hadde his mooder slayn,

Upon a day fil in swich repentance

990 That, if I shortly tellen shal and playn,

To Rome he comth to receyven his penance;

And putte hym in the Popes ordinance

In heigh and logh, and Jhesu Crist bisoghte

Foryeve his wikked werkes that he wroghte.

The fame anon thurgh Rome toun is born,

How Alla kyng shal comen in pilgrymage,

By herbergeours that wenten hym biforn;

For which the senatour, as was usage,

Rood hym agayns, and many of his lynage,

1000 As wel to shewen his heighe magnificence

As to doon any kyng a reverence.

Greet cheere dooth this noble senatour

To kyng Alla, and he to hym also;

Everich of hem dooth oother greet honour.

And so bifel that in a day or two

This senatour is to kyng Alla go

To feste, and shortly, if I shal nat lye,

Custances sone wente in his compaignye.

Som men wolde seyn at requeste of Custance

1010 This senatour hath lad this child to feeste;

I may nat tellen every circumstance --

Be as be may, ther was he at the leeste.

But sooth is this, that at his moodres heeste

Biforn Alla, durynge the metes space,

The child stood, lookynge in the kynges face.

This Alla kyng hath of this child greet wonder,

And to the senatour he seyde anon,

"Whos is that faire child that stondeth yonder?"

"I noot," quod he, "by God, and by Seint John!

1020 A mooder he hath, but fader hath he noon

That I of woot" -- and shortly, in a stounde,

He tolde Alla how that this child was founde.

"But God woot," quod this senatour also,

"So vertuous a lyvere in my lyf

Ne saugh I nevere as she, ne herde of mo,

Of worldly wommen, mayde, ne of wyf.

I dar wel seyn hir hadde levere a knyf

Thurghout hir brest, than ben a womman wikke;

There is no man koude brynge hire to that prikke."

1030 Now was this child as lyk unto Custance

As possible is a creature to be.

This Alla hath the face in remembrance

Of dame Custance, and ther on mused he

If that the childes mooder were aught she

That is his wyf, and pryvely he sighte,

And spedde hym fro the table that he myghte.

"Parfay," thoghte he, "fantome is in myn heed!

I oghte deme, of skilful juggement,

That in the salte see my wyf is deed."

1040 And afterward he made his argument:

"What woot I if that Crist have hyder ysent

My wyf by see, as wel as he hire sente

To my contree fro thennes that she wente?"

And after noon, hoom with the senatour

Goth Alla, for to seen this wonder chaunce.

This senatour dooth Alla greet honour,

And hastifly he sente after Custaunce.

But trusteth weel, hire liste nat to daunce

Whan that she wiste wherfore was that sonde;

1050 Unnethe upon hir feet she myghte stonde.

Whan Alla saugh his wyf, faire he hire grette,

And weep that it was routhe for to see;

For at the firste look he on hire sette

He knew wel verraily that it was she.

And she, for sorwe, as doumb stant as a tree,

So was hir herte shet in hir distresse,

Whan she remembred his unkyndenesse.

Twyes she swowned in his owene sighte;

He weep, and hym excuseth pitously.

1060 "Now God," quod he, "and his halwes brighte

So wisly on my soule as have mercy,

That of youre harm as giltelees am I

As is Maurice my sone, so lyk youre face;

Elles the feend me fecche out of this place!"

Long was the sobbyng and the bitter peyne,

Er that hir woful hertes myghte cesse;

Greet was the pitee for to heere hem pleyne,

Thurgh whiche pleintes gan hir wo encresse.

I pray yow alle my labour to relesse;

1070 I may nat telle hir wo until to-morwe,

I am so wery for to speke of sorwe.

But finally, whan that the sothe is wist

That Alla giltelees was of hir wo,

I trowe an hundred tymes been they kist,

And swich a blisse is ther bitwix hem two

That, save the joye that lasteth everemo,

Ther is noon lyk that any creature

Hath seyn or shal, whil that the world may dure.

Tho preyde she hir housbonde mekely,

1080 In relief of hir longe, pitous pyne,

That he wolde preye hir fader specially

That of his magestee he wolde enclyne

To vouche sauf som day with hym to dyne.

She preyde hym eek he sholde by no weye

Unto hir fader no word of hire seye.

Som men wolde seyn how that the child Maurice

Dooth this message unto this Emperour;

But, as I gesse, Alla was nat so nyce

To hym that was of so sovereyn honour

1090 As he that is of Cristen folk the flour,

Sente any child, but it is bet to deeme

He wente hymself, and so it may wel seeme.

This Emperour hath graunted gentilly

To come to dyner, as he hym bisoughte;

And wel rede I he looked bisily

Upon this child, and on his doghter thoghte.

Alla goth to his in, and as hym oghte,

Arrayed for this feste in every wise

As ferforth as his konnyng may suffise.

1100 The morwe cam, and Alla gan hym dresse,

And eek his wyf, this Emperour to meete;

And forth they ryde in joye and in gladnesse.

And whan she saugh hir fader in the strete,

She lighte doun, and falleth hym to feete.

"Fader," quod she, "youre yonge child Custance

Is now ful clene out of youre remembrance.

"I am youre doghter Custance," quod she,

"That whilom ye han sent unto Surrye.

It am I, fader, that in the salte see

1110 Was put allone and dampned for to dye.

Now, goode fader, mercy I yow crye!

Sende me namoore unto noon hethenesse,

But thonketh my lord heere of his kyndenesse."

Who kan the pitous joye tellen al

Bitwixe hem thre, syn they been thus ymette?

But of my tale make an ende I shal;

The day goth faste, I wol no lenger lette.

This glade folk to dyner they hem sette;

In joye and blisse at mete I lete hem dwelle

1120 A thousand foold wel moore than I kan telle.

This child Maurice was sithen Emperour

Maad by the Pope, and lyved cristenly;

To Cristes chirche he dide greet honour.

But I lete al his storie passen by;

Of Custance is my tale specially.

In the olde Romayn geestes may men fynde

Maurices lyf; I bere it noght in mynde.

This kyng Alla, whan he his tyme say,

With his Custance, his hooly wyf so sweete,

1130 To Engelond been they come the righte way,

Wher as they lyve in joye and in quiete.

But litel while it lasteth, I yow heete,

Joye of this world, for tyme wol nat abyde;

Fro day to nyght it changeth as the tyde.

Who lyved euere in swich delit o day

That hym ne moeved outher conscience,

Or ire, or talent, or som kynnes affray,

Envye, or pride, or passion, or offence?

I ne seye but for this ende this sentence,

1140 That litel while in joye or in plesance

Lasteth the blisse of Alla with Custance.

For Deeth, that taketh of heigh and logh his rente,

Whan passed was a yeer, evene as I gesse,

Out of this world this kyng Alla he hente,

For whom Custance hath ful greet hevynesse.

Now lat us prayen God his soule blesse!

And dame Custance, finally to seye,

Toward the toun of Rome goth hir weye.

To Rome is come this hooly creature,

1150 And fyndeth hire freendes hoole and sounde;

Now is she scaped al hire aventure.

And whan that she hir fader hath yfounde,

Doun on hir knees falleth she to grounde;

Wepynge for tendrenesse in herte blithe,

She heryeth God an hundred thousand sithe.

In vertu and in hooly almus-dede

They lyven alle, and nevere asonder wende;

Til deeth departeth hem, this lyf they lede.

And fareth now weel! my tale is at an ende.

1160 Now Jhesu Crist, that of his myght may sende

Joye after wo, governe us in his grace,

And kepe us alle that been in this place! Amen

THE MAN OF LAW'S EPILOGUE

[Owre Hoost upon his stiropes stood anon,

And seyde, "Goode men, herkeneth everych on!

This was a thrifty tale for the nones!

Sir Parisshe Prest," quod he, "for Goddes bones,

Telle us a tale, as was thi forward yore.

I se wel that ye lerned men in lore

Can moche good, by Goddes dignitee!"

1170 The Parson him answerde, "Benedicite!

What eyleth the man, so synfully to swere?"

Oure Host answerde, "O Jankin, be ye there?

I smelle a Lollere in the wynd," quod he.

"Now! goode men," quod oure Hoste, "herkeneth me;

Abydeth, for Goddes digne passioun,

For we schal han a predicacioun;

This Lollere heer wil prechen us somwhat."

"Nay, by my fader soule, that schal he nat!"

Seyde the Shipman, "Heer schal he nat preche;

1180 He schal no gospel glosen here ne teche.

We leven alle in the grete God," quod he;

"He wolde sowen som difficulte,

Or springen cokkel in our clene corn.

And therfore, Hoost, I warne thee biforn,

My joly body schal a tale telle,

And I schal clynken you so mery a belle,

That I schal waken al this compaignie.

But it schal not ben of philosophie,

Ne phislyas, ne termes queinte of lawe.

1190 Ther is but litel Latyn in my mawe!"]

THE WIFE OF BATH'S PROLOGUE

"Experience, though noon auctoritee

Were in this world, is right ynogh for me

To speke of wo that is in mariage;

For, lordynges, sith I twelve yeer was of age,

Thonked be God that is eterne on lyve,

Housbondes at chirche dore I have had fyve --

If I so ofte myghte have ywedded bee --

And alle were worthy men in hir degree.

But me was toold, certeyn, nat longe agoon is,

10 That sith that Crist ne wente nevere but onis

To weddyng, in the Cane of Galilee,

That by the same ensample taughte he me

That I ne sholde wedded be but ones.

Herkne eek, lo, which a sharp word for the nones,

Biside a welle, Jhesus, God and man,

Spak in repreeve of the Samaritan:

`Thou hast yhad fyve housbondes,' quod he,

`And that ilke man that now hath thee

Is noght thyn housbonde,' thus seyde he certeyn.

20 What that he mente therby, I kan nat seyn;

But that I axe, why that the fifthe man

Was noon housbonde to the Samaritan?

How manye myghte she have in mariage?

Yet herde I nevere tellen in myn age

Upon this nombre diffinicioun.

Men may devyne and glosen, up and doun,

But wel I woot, expres, withoute lye,

God bad us for to wexe and multiplye;

That gentil text kan I wel understonde.

30 Eek wel I woot, he seyde myn housbonde

Sholde lete fader and mooder and take to me.

But of no nombre mencion made he,

Of bigamye, or of octogamye;

Why sholde men thanne speke of it vileynye?

Lo, heere the wise kyng, daun Salomon;

I trowe he hadde wyves mo than oon.

As wolde God it leveful were unto me

To be refresshed half so ofte as he!

Which yifte of God hadde he for alle his wyvys!

40 No man hath swich that in this world alyve is.

God woot, this noble kyng, as to my wit,

The firste nyght had many a myrie fit

With ech of hem, so wel was hym on lyve.

Yblessed be God that I have wedded fyve!

[Of whiche I have pyked out the beste,

Bothe of here nether purs and of here cheste.

Diverse scoles maken parfyt clerkes,

And diverse practyk in many sondry werkes

Maketh the werkman parfyt sekirly;

Of fyve husbondes scoleiyng am I.]

Welcome the sixte, whan that evere he shal.

For sothe, I wol nat kepe me chaast in al.

Whan myn housbonde is fro the world ygon,

Som Cristen man shal wedde me anon,

For thanne th' apostle seith that I am free

50 To wedde, a Goddes half, where it liketh me.

He seith that to be wedded is no synne;

Bet is to be wedded than to brynne.

What rekketh me, thogh folk seye vileynye

Of shrewed Lameth and his bigamye?

I woot wel Abraham was an hooly man,

And Jacob eek, as ferforth as I kan;

And ech of hem hadde wyves mo than two,

And many another holy man also.

Wher can ye seye, in any manere age,

60 That hye God defended mariage

By expres word? I pray yow, telleth me.

Or where comanded he virginitee?

I woot as wel as ye, it is no drede,

Th' apostel, whan he speketh of maydenhede,

He seyde that precept therof hadde he noon.

Men may conseille a womman to been oon,

But conseillyng is no comandement.

He putte it in oure owene juggement;

For hadde God comanded maydenhede,

70 Thanne hadde he dampned weddyng with the dede.

And certes, if ther were no seed ysowe,

Virginitee, thanne wherof sholde it growe?

Poul dorste nat comanden, atte leeste,

A thyng of which his maister yaf noon heeste.

The dart is set up for virginitee;

Cacche whoso may, who renneth best lat see.

But this word is nat taken of every wight,

But ther as God lust gyve it of his myght.

I woot wel that th' apostel was a mayde;

80 But nathelees, thogh that he wroot and sayde

He wolde that every wight were swich as he,

Al nys but conseil to virginitee.

And for to been a wyf he yaf me leve

Of indulgence; so nys it no repreve

To wedde me, if that my make dye,

Withouten excepcion of bigamye.

Al were it good no womman for to touche --

He mente as in his bed or in his couche,

For peril is bothe fyr and tow t' assemble;

90 Ye knowe what this ensample may resemble.

This is al and som: he heeld virginitee

Moore parfit than weddyng in freletee.

Freletee clepe I, but if that he and she

Wolde leden al hir lyf in chastitee.

I graunte it wel; I have noon envie,

Thogh maydenhede preferre bigamye.

It liketh hem to be clene, body and goost;

Of myn estaat I nyl nat make no boost,

For wel ye knowe, a lord in his houshold,

100 He nath nat every vessel al of gold;

Somme been of tree, and doon hir lord servyse.

God clepeth folk to hym in sondry wyse,

And everich hath of God a propre yifte --

Som this, som that, as hym liketh shifte.

Virginitee is greet perfeccion,

And continence eek with devocion,

But Crist, that of perfeccion is welle,

Bad nat every wight he sholde go selle

Al that he hadde, and gyve it to the poore,

110 And in swich wise folwe hym and his foore.

He spak to hem that wolde lyve parfitly;

And lordynges, by youre leve, that am nat I.

I wol bistowe the flour of al myn age

In the actes and in fruyt of mariage.

Telle me also, to what conclusion

Were membres maad of generacion,

And of so parfit wys a [wright] ywroght?

Trusteth right wel, they were nat maad for noght.

Glose whoso wole, and seye bothe up and doun

120 That they were maked for purgacioun

Of uryne, and oure bothe thynges smale

Were eek to knowe a femele from a male,

And for noon oother cause -- say ye no?

The experience woot wel it is noght so.

So that the clerkes be nat with me wrothe,

I sey this: that they maked ben for bothe;

That is to seye, for office and for ese

Of engendrure, ther we nat God displese.

Why sholde men elles in hir bookes sette

130 That man shal yelde to his wyf hire dette?

Now wherwith sholde he make his paiement,

If he ne used his sely instrument?

Thanne were they maad upon a creature

To purge uryne, and eek for engendrure.

But I seye noght that every wight is holde,

That hath swich harneys as I to yow tolde,

To goon and usen hem in engendrure.

Thanne sholde men take of chastitee no cure.

Crist was a mayde and shapen as a man,

140 And many a seint, sith that the world bigan;

Yet lyved they evere in parfit chastitee.

I nyl envye no virginitee.

Lat hem be breed of pured whete-seed,

And lat us wyves hoten barly-breed;

And yet with barly-breed, Mark telle kan,

Oure Lord Jhesu refresshed many a man.

In swich estaat as God hath cleped us

I wol persevere; I nam nat precius.

In wyfhod I wol use myn instrument

150 As frely as my Makere hath it sent.

If I be daungerous, God yeve me sorwe!

Myn housbonde shal it have bothe eve and morwe,

Whan that hym list come forth and paye his dette.

An housbonde I wol have -- I wol nat lette --

Which shal be bothe my dettour and my thral,

And have his tribulacion withal

Upon his flessh, whil that I am his wyf.

I have the power durynge al my lyf

Upon his propre body, and noght he.

160 Right thus the Apostel tolde it unto me,

And bad oure housbondes for to love us weel.

Al this sentence me liketh every deel" --

Up stirte the Pardoner, and that anon;

"Now, dame," quod he, "by God and by Seint John!

Ye been a noble prechour in this cas.

I was aboute to wedde a wyf; allas!

What sholde I bye it on my flessh so deere?

Yet hadde I levere wedde no wyf to-yeere!"

"Abyde!" quod she, "my tale is nat bigonne.

170 Nay, thou shalt drynken of another tonne,

Er that I go, shal savoure wors than ale.

And whan that I have toold thee forth my tale

Of tribulacion in mariage,

Of which I am expert in al myn age --

This is to seyn, myself have been the whippe --

Than maystow chese wheither thou wolt sippe

Of thilke tonne that I shal abroche.

Be war of it, er thou to ny approche;

For I shal telle ensamples mo than ten.

180 `Whoso that nyl be war by othere men,

By hym shul othere men corrected be.'

The same wordes writeth Ptholomee;

Rede in his Almageste, and take it there."

"Dame, I wolde praye yow, if youre wyl it were,"

Seyde this Pardoner, "as ye bigan,

Telle forth youre tale, spareth for no man,

And teche us yonge men of youre praktike."

"Gladly," quod she, "sith it may yow like;

But yet I praye to al this compaignye,

190 If that I speke after my fantasye,

As taketh not agrief of that I seye,

For myn entente nys but for to pleye.

Now, sire, now wol I telle forth my tale.

As evere moote I drynken wyn or ale,

I shal seye sooth; tho housbondes that I hadde,

As thre of hem were goode, and two were badde.

The thre were goode men, and riche, and olde;

Unnethe myghte they the statut holde

In which that they were bounden unto me.

200 Ye woot wel what I meene of this, pardee!

As help me God, I laughe whan I thynke

How pitously a-nyght I made hem swynke!

And, by my fey, I tolde of it no stoor.

They had me yeven hir lond and hir tresoor;

Me neded nat do lenger diligence

To wynne hir love, or doon hem reverence.

They loved me so wel, by God above,

That I ne tolde no deyntee of hir love!

A wys womman wol bisye hire evere in oon

210 To gete hire love, ye, ther as she hath noon.

But sith I hadde hem hoolly in myn hond,

And sith they hadde me yeven al hir lond,

What sholde I taken keep hem for to plese,

But it were for my profit and myn ese?

I sette hem so a-werke, by my fey,

That many a nyght they songen `Weilawey!'

The bacon was nat fet for hem, I trowe,

That som men han in Essex at Dunmowe.

I governed hem so wel, after my lawe,

220 That ech of hem ful blisful was and fawe

To brynge me gaye thynges fro the fayre.

They were ful glad whan I spak to hem faire,

For, God it woot, I chidde hem spitously.

Now herkneth hou I baar me proprely,

Ye wise wyves, that kan understonde.

Thus shulde ye speke and bere hem wrong on honde,

For half so boldely kan ther no man

Swere and lyen, as a womman kan.

I sey nat this by wyves that been wyse,

230 But if it be whan they hem mysavyse.

A wys wyf, if that she kan hir good,

Shal beren hym on honde the cow is wood,

And take witnesse of hir owene mayde

Of hir assent. But herkneth how I sayde:

`Sire olde kaynard, is this thyn array?

Why is my neighebores wyf so gay?

She is honoured overal ther she gooth;

I sitte at hoom; I have no thrifty clooth.

What dostow at my neighebores hous?

240 Is she so fair? Artow so amorous?

What rowne ye with oure mayde? Benedicite!

Sire olde lecchour, lat thy japes be!

And if I have a gossib or a freend,

Withouten gilt, thou chidest as a feend,

If that I walke or pleye unto his hous!

Thou comest hoom as dronken as a mous,

And prechest on thy bench, with yvel preef!

Thou seist to me it is a greet meschief

To wedde a povre womman, for costage;

250 And if that she be riche, of heigh parage,

Thanne seistow that it is a tormentrie

To soffre hire pride and hire malencolie.

And if that she be fair, thou verray knave,

Thou seyst that every holour wol hire have;

She may no while in chastitee abyde,

That is assailled upon ech a syde.

Thou seyst som folk desiren us for richesse,

Somme for oure shap, and somme for oure fairnesse,

And som for she kan outher synge or daunce,

260 And som for gentillesse and daliaunce;

Som for hir handes and hir armes smale;

Thus goth al to the devel, by thy tale.

Thou seyst men may nat kepe a castel wal,

It may so longe assailled been overal.

And if that she be foul, thou seist that she

Coveiteth every man that she may se,

For as a spanyel she wol on hym lepe,

Til that she fynde som man hire to chepe.

Ne noon so grey goos gooth ther in the lake

270 As, seistow, wol been withoute make.

And seyst it is an hard thyng for to welde

A thyng that no man wole, his thankes, helde.

Thus seistow, lorel, whan thow goost to bedde,

And that no wys man nedeth for to wedde,

Ne no man that entendeth unto hevene.

With wilde thonder-dynt and firy levene

Moote thy welked nekke be tobroke!

Thow seyst that droppyng houses, and eek smoke,

And chidyng wyves maken men to flee

280 Out of hir owene houses; a, benedicitee!

What eyleth swich an old man for to chide?

Thow seyst we wyves wol oure vices hide

Til we be fast, and thanne we wol hem shewe --

Wel may that be a proverbe of a shrewe!

Thou seist that oxen, asses, hors, and houndes,

They been assayed at diverse stoundes;

Bacyns, lavours, er that men hem bye,

Spoones and stooles, and al swich housbondrye,

And so been pottes, clothes, and array;

290 But folk of wyves maken noon assay,

Til they be wedded -- olde dotard shrewe! --

And thanne, seistow, we wol oure vices shewe.

Thou seist also that it displeseth me

But if that thou wolt preyse my beautee,

And but thou poure alwey upon my face,

And clepe me "faire dame" in every place.

And but thou make a feeste on thilke day

That I was born, and make me fressh and gay;

And but thou do to my norice honour,

300 And to my chamberere withinne my bour,

And to my fadres folk and his allyes --

Thus seistow, olde barel-ful of lyes!

And yet of oure apprentice Janekyn,

For his crispe heer, shynynge as gold so fyn,

And for he squiereth me bothe up and doun,

Yet hastow caught a fals suspecioun.

I wol hym noght, thogh thou were deed tomorwe!

But tel me this: why hydestow, with sorwe,

The keyes of thy cheste awey fro me?

310 It is my good as wel as thyn, pardee!

What, wenestow make an ydiot of oure dame?

Now by that lord that called is Seint Jame,

Thou shalt nat bothe, thogh that thou were wood,

Be maister of my body and of my good;

That oon thou shalt forgo, maugree thyne yen.

What helpith it of me to enquere or spyen?

I trowe thou woldest loke me in thy chiste!

Thou sholdest seye, "Wyf, go wher thee liste;

Taak youre disport; I wol nat leve no talys.

320 I knowe yow for a trewe wyf, dame Alys."

We love no man that taketh kep or charge

Wher that we goon; we wol ben at oure large.

Of alle men yblessed moot he be,

The wise astrologien, Daun Ptholome,

That seith this proverbe in his Almageste:

"Of alle men his wysdom is the hyeste

That rekketh nevere who hath the world in honde."

By this proverbe thou shalt understonde,

Have thou ynogh, what thar thee recche or care

330 How myrily that othere folkes fare?

For, certeyn, olde dotard, by youre leve,

Ye shul have queynte right ynogh at eve.

He is to greet a nygard that wolde werne

A man to lighte a candle at his lanterne;

He shal have never the lasse light, pardee.

Have thou ynogh, thee thar nat pleyne thee.

Thou seyst also, that if we make us gay

With clothyng, and with precious array,

That it is peril of oure chastitee;

340 And yet -- with sorwe! -- thou most enforce thee,

And seye thise wordes in the Apostles name:

"In habit maad with chastitee and shame

Ye wommen shul apparaille yow," quod he,

"And noght in tressed heer and gay perree,

As perles, ne with gold, ne clothes riche."

After thy text, ne after thy rubriche,

I wol nat wirche as muchel as a gnat.

Thou seydest this, that I was lyk a cat;

For whoso wolde senge a cattes skyn,

350 Thanne wolde the cat wel dwellen in his in;

And if the cattes skyn be slyk and gay,

She wol nat dwelle in house half a day,

But forth she wole, er any day be dawed,

To shewe hir skyn and goon a-caterwawed.

This is to seye, if I be gay, sire shrewe,

I wol renne out my borel for to shewe.

Sire olde fool, what helpeth thee to spyen?

Thogh thou preye Argus with his hundred yen

To be my warde-cors, as he kan best,

360 In feith, he shal nat kepe me but me lest;

Yet koude I make his berd, so moot I thee!

Thou seydest eek that ther been thynges thre,

The whiche thynges troublen al this erthe,

And that no wight may endure the ferthe.

O leeve sire shrewe, Jhesu shorte thy lyf!

Yet prechestow and seyst an hateful wyf

Yrekened is for oon of thise meschances.

Been ther none othere maner resemblances

That ye may likne youre parables to,

370 But if a sely wyf be oon of tho?

Thou liknest eek wommenes love to helle,

To bareyne lond, ther water may nat dwelle.

Thou liknest it also to wilde fyr;

The moore it brenneth, the moore it hath desir

To consume every thyng that brent wole be.

Thou seyest, right as wormes shende a tree,

Right so a wyf destroyeth hire housbonde;

This knowe they that been to wyves bonde.'

Lordynges, right thus, as ye have understonde,

380 Baar I stifly myne olde housbondes on honde

That thus they seyden in hir dronkenesse;

And al was fals, but that I took witnesse

On Janekyn, and on my nece also.

O Lord! The peyne I dide hem and the wo,

Ful giltelees, by Goddes sweete pyne!

For as an hors I koude byte and whyne.

I koude pleyne, and yit was in the gilt,

Or elles often tyme hadde I been spilt.

Whoso that first to mille comth, first grynt;

390 I pleyned first, so was oure werre ystynt.

They were ful glade to excuse hem blyve

Of thyng of which they nevere agilte hir lyve.

Of wenches wolde I beren hem on honde,

Whan that for syk unnethes myghte they stonde.

Yet tikled I his herte, for that he

Wende that I hadde of hym so greet chiertee!

I swoor that al my walkynge out by nyghte

Was for t' espye wenches that he dighte;

Under that colour hadde I many a myrthe.

400 For al swich wit is yeven us in oure byrthe;

Deceite, wepyng, spynnyng God hath yive

To wommen kyndely, whil that they may lyve.

And thus of o thyng I avaunte me:

Atte ende I hadde the bettre in ech degree,

By sleighte, or force, or by som maner thyng,

As by continueel murmur or grucchyng.

Namely abedde hadden they meschaunce:

Ther wolde I chide and do hem no plesaunce;

I wolde no lenger in the bed abyde,

410 If that I felte his arm over my syde,

Til he had maad his raunson unto me;

Thanne wolde I suffre hym do his nycetee.

And therfore every man this tale I telle,

Wynne whoso may, for al is for to selle;

With empty hand men may none haukes lure.

For wynnyng wolde I al his lust endure,

And make me a feyned appetit;

And yet in bacon hadde I nevere delit.

That made me that evere I wolde hem chide,

420 For thogh the pope hadde seten hem biside,

I wolde nat spare hem at hir owene bord,

For, by my trouthe, I quitte hem word for word.

As helpe me verray God omnipotent,

Though I right now sholde make my testament,

I ne owe hem nat a word that it nys quit.

I broghte it so aboute by my wit

That they moste yeve it up, as for the beste,

Or elles hadde we nevere been in reste;

For thogh he looked as a wood leon,

430 Yet sholde he faille of his conclusion.

Thanne wolde I seye, `Goode lief, taak keep

How mekely looketh Wilkyn, oure sheep!

Com neer, my spouse, lat me ba thy cheke!

Ye sholde been al pacient and meke,

And han a sweete spiced conscience,

Sith ye so preche of Jobes pacience.

Suffreth alwey, syn ye so wel kan preche;

And but ye do, certein we shal yow teche

That it is fair to have a wyf in pees.

440 Oon of us two moste bowen, doutelees,

And sith a man is moore resonable

Than womman is, ye moste been suffrable.

What eyleth yow to grucche thus and grone?

Is it for ye wolde have my queynte allone?

Wy, taak it al! Lo, have it every deel!

Peter! I shrewe yow, but ye love it weel;

For if I wolde selle my bele chose,

I koude walke as fressh as is a rose;

But I wol kepe it for youre owene tooth.

450 Ye be to blame, by God! I sey yow sooth.'

Swiche manere wordes hadde we on honde.

Now wol I speken of my fourthe housbonde.

My fourthe housbonde was a revelour --

This is to seyn, he hadde a paramour --

And I was yong and ful of ragerye,

Stibourn and strong, and joly as a pye.

How koude I daunce to an harpe smale,

And synge, ywis, as any nyghtyngale,

Whan I had dronke a draughte of sweete wyn!

460 Metellius, the foule cherl, the swyn,

That with a staf birafte his wyf hir lyf,

For she drank wyn, thogh I hadde been his wyf,

He sholde nat han daunted me fro drynke!

And after wyn on Venus moste I thynke,

For al so siker as cold engendreth hayl,

A likerous mouth moste han a likerous tayl.

In wommen vinolent is no defence --

This knowen lecchours by experience.

But -- Lord Crist! -- whan that it remembreth me

470 Upon my yowthe, and on my jolitee,

It tikleth me aboute myn herte roote.

Unto this day it dooth myn herte boote

That I have had my world as in my tyme.

But age, allas, that al wole envenyme,

Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith.

Lat go. Farewel! The devel go therwith!

The flour is goon; ther is namoore to telle;

The bren, as I best kan, now moste I selle;

But yet to be right myrie wol I fonde.

480 Now wol I tellen of my fourthe housbonde.

I seye, I hadde in herte greet despit

That he of any oother had delit.

But he was quit, by God and by Seint Joce!

I made hym of the same wode a croce;

Nat of my body, in no foul manere,

But certeinly, I made folk swich cheere

That in his owene grece I made hym frye

For angre, and for verray jalousye.

By God, in erthe I was his purgatorie,

490 For which I hope his soule be in glorie.

For, God it woot, he sat ful ofte and song,

Whan that his shoo ful bitterly hym wrong.

Ther was no wight, save God and he, that wiste,

In many wise, how soore I hym twiste.

He deyde whan I cam fro Jerusalem,

And lith ygrave under the roode beem,

Al is his tombe noght so curyus

As was the sepulcre of hym Daryus,

Which that Appelles wroghte subtilly;

500 It nys but wast to burye hym preciously.

Lat hym fare wel; God yeve his soule reste!

He is now in his grave and in his cheste.

Now of my fifthe housbonde wol I telle.

God lete his soule nevere come in helle!

And yet was he to me the mooste shrewe;

That feele I on my ribbes al by rewe,

And evere shal unto myn endyng day.

But in oure bed he was so fressh and gay,

And therwithal so wel koude he me glose,

510 Whan that he wolde han my bele chose;

That thogh he hadde me bete on every bon,

He koude wynne agayn my love anon.

I trowe I loved hym best, for that he

Was of his love daungerous to me.

We wommen han, if that I shal nat lye,

In this matere a queynte fantasye:

Wayte what thyng we may nat lightly have,

Therafter wol we crie al day and crave.

Forbede us thyng, and that desiren we;

520 Preesse on us faste, and thanne wol we fle.

With daunger oute we al oure chaffare;

Greet prees at market maketh deere ware,

And to greet cheep is holde at litel prys:

This knoweth every womman that is wys.

My fifthe housbonde -- God his soule blesse! --

Which that I took for love, and no richesse,

He som tyme was a clerk of Oxenford,

And hadde left scole, and wente at hom to bord

With my gossib, dwellynge in oure toun;

530 God have hir soule! Hir name was Alisoun.

She knew myn herte, and eek my privetee,

Bet than oure parisshe preest, so moot I thee!

To hire biwreyed I my conseil al.

For hadde myn housbonde pissed on a wal,

Or doon a thyng that sholde han cost his lyf,

To hire, and to another worthy wyf,

And to my nece, which that I loved weel,

I wolde han toold his conseil every deel.

And so I dide ful often, God it woot,

540 That made his face often reed and hoot

For verray shame, and blamed hymself for he

Had toold to me so greet a pryvetee.

And so bifel that ones in a Lente --

So often tymes I to my gossyb wente,

For evere yet I loved to be gay,

And for to walke in March, Averill, and May,

Fro hous to hous, to heere sondry talys --

That Jankyn clerk, and my gossyb dame Alys,

And I myself, into the feeldes wente.

550 Myn housbonde was at Londoun al that Lente;

I hadde the bettre leyser for to pleye,

And for to se, and eek for to be seye

Of lusty folk. What wiste I wher my grace

Was shapen for to be, or in what place?

Therfore I made my visitaciouns

To vigilies and to processiouns,

To prechyng eek, and to thise pilgrimages,

To pleyes of myracles, and to mariages,

And wered upon my gaye scarlet gytes.

560 Thise wormes, ne thise motthes, ne thise mytes,

Upon my peril, frete hem never a deel;

And wostow why? For they were used weel.

Now wol I tellen forth what happed me.

I seye that in the feeldes walked we,

Til trewely we hadde swich daliance,

This clerk and I, that of my purveiance

I spak to hym and seyde hym how that he,

If I were wydwe, sholde wedde me.

For certeinly -- I sey for no bobance --

570 Yet was I nevere withouten purveiance

Of mariage, n' of othere thynges eek.

I holde a mouses herte nat worth a leek

That hath but oon hole for to sterte to,

And if that faille, thanne is al ydo.

I bar hym on honde he hadde enchanted me --

My dame taughte me that soutiltee --

And eek I seyde I mette of hym al nyght,

He wolde han slayn me as I lay upright,

And al my bed was ful of verray blood;

580 `But yet I hope that ye shal do me good,

For blood bitokeneth gold, as me was taught.'

And al was fals; I dremed of it right naught,

But as I folwed ay my dames loore,

As wel of this as of othere thynges moore.

But now, sire, lat me se what I shal seyn.

A ha! By God, I have my tale ageyn.

Whan that my fourthe housbonde was on beere,

I weep algate, and made sory cheere,

As wyves mooten, for it is usage,

590 And with my coverchief covered my visage,

But for that I was purveyed of a make,

I wepte but smal, and that I undertake.

To chirche was myn housbonde born a-morwe

With neighebores, that for hym maden sorwe;

And Jankyn, oure clerk, was oon of tho.

As help me God, whan that I saugh hym go

After the beere, me thoughte he hadde a paire

Of legges and of feet so clene and faire

That al myn herte I yaf unto his hoold.

600 He was, I trowe, twenty wynter oold,

And I was fourty, if I shal seye sooth;

But yet I hadde alwey a coltes tooth.

Gat-tothed I was, and that bicam me weel;

I hadde the prente of seinte Venus seel.

As help me God, I was a lusty oon,

And faire, and riche, and yong, and wel bigon,

And trewely, as myne housbondes tolde me,

I hadde the beste quoniam myghte be.

For certes, I am al Venerien

610 In feelynge, and myn herte is Marcien.

Venus me yaf my lust, my likerousnesse,

And Mars yaf me my sturdy hardynesse;

Myn ascendent was Taur, and Mars therinne.

Allas, allas! That evere love was synne!

I folwed ay myn inclinacioun

By vertu of my constellacioun;

That made me I koude noght withdrawe

My chambre of Venus from a good felawe.

Yet have I Martes mark upon my face,

620 And also in another privee place.

For God so wys be my savacioun,

I ne loved nevere by no discrecioun,

But evere folwede myn appetit,

Al were he short, or long, or blak, or whit;

I took no kep, so that he liked me,

How poore he was, ne eek of what degree.

What sholde I seye but, at the monthes ende,

This joly clerk, Jankyn, that was so hende,

Hath wedded me with greet solempnytee,

630 And to hym yaf I al the lond and fee

That evere was me yeven therbifoore.

But afterward repented me ful soore;

He nolde suffre nothyng of my list.

By God, he smoot me ones on the lyst,

For that I rente out of his book a leef,

That of the strook myn ere wax al deef.

Stibourn I was as is a leonesse,

And of my tonge a verray jangleresse,

And walke I wolde, as I had doon biforn,

640 From hous to hous, although he had it sworn;

For which he often tymes wolde preche,

And me of olde Romayn geestes teche;

How he Symplicius Gallus lefte his wyf,

And hire forsook for terme of al his lyf,

Noght but for open-heveded he hir say

Lookynge out at his dore upon a day.

Another Romayn tolde he me by name,

That, for his wyf was at a someres game

Withouten his wityng, he forsook hire eke.

650 And thanne wolde he upon his Bible seke

That ilke proverbe of Ecclesiaste

Where he comandeth and forbedeth faste

Man shal nat suffre his wyf go roule aboute.

Thanne wolde he seye right thus, withouten doute:

`Whoso that buyldeth his hous al of salwes,

And priketh his blynde hors over the falwes,

And suffreth his wyf to go seken halwes,

Is worthy to been hanged on the galwes!'

But al for noght, I sette noght an hawe

660 Of his proverbes n' of his olde sawe,

Ne I wolde nat of hym corrected be.

I hate hym that my vices telleth me,

And so doo mo, God woot, of us than I.

This made hym with me wood al outrely;

I nolde noght forbere hym in no cas.

Now wol I seye yow sooth, by Seint Thomas,

Why that I rente out of his book a leef,

For which he smoot me so that I was deef.

He hadde a book that gladly, nyght and day,

670 For his desport he wolde rede alway;

He cleped it Valerie and Theofraste,

At which book he lough alwey ful faste.

And eek ther was somtyme a clerk at Rome,

A cardinal, that highte Seint Jerome,

That made a book agayn Jovinian;

In which book eek ther was Tertulan,

Crisippus, Trotula, and Helowys,

That was abbesse nat fer fro Parys,

And eek the Parables of Salomon,

680 Ovides Art, and bookes many on,

And alle thise were bounden in o volume.

And every nyght and day was his custume,

Whan he hadde leyser and vacacioun

From oother worldly occupacioun,

To reden on this book of wikked wyves.

He knew of hem mo legendes and lyves

Than been of goode wyves in the Bible.

For trusteth wel, it is an impossible

That any clerk wol speke good of wyves,

690 But if it be of hooly seintes lyves,

Ne of noon oother womman never the mo.

Who peyntede the leon, tel me who?

By God, if wommen hadde writen stories,

As clerkes han withinne hire oratories,

They wolde han writen of men moore wikkednesse

Than al the mark of Adam may redresse.

The children of Mercurie and of Venus

Been in hir wirkyng ful contrarius;

Mercurie loveth wysdam and science,

700 And Venus loveth ryot and dispence.

And, for hire diverse disposicioun,

Ech falleth in otheres exaltacioun.

And thus, God woot, Mercurie is desolat

In Pisces, wher Venus is exaltat,

And Venus falleth ther Mercurie is reysed.

Therfore no womman of no clerk is preysed.

The clerk, whan he is oold, and may noght do

Of Venus werkes worth his olde sho,

Thanne sit he doun, and writ in his dotage

710 That wommen kan nat kepe hir mariage!

But now to purpos, why I tolde thee

That I was beten for a book, pardee!

Upon a nyght Jankyn, that was oure sire,

Redde on his book, as he sat by the fire,

Of Eva first, that for hir wikkednesse

Was al mankynde broght to wrecchednesse,

For which that Jhesu Crist hymself was slayn,

That boghte us with his herte blood agayn.

Lo, heere expres of womman may ye fynde

720 That womman was the los of al mankynde.

Tho redde he me how Sampson loste his heres:

Slepynge, his lemman kitte it with hir sheres;

Thurgh which treson loste he bothe his yen.

Tho redde he me, if that I shal nat lyen,

Of Hercules and of his Dianyre,

That caused hym to sette hymself afyre.

No thyng forgat he the care and the wo

That Socrates hadde with his wyves two,

How Xantippa caste pisse upon his heed.

730 This sely man sat stille as he were deed;

He wiped his heed, namoore dorste he seyn,

But `Er that thonder stynte, comth a reyn!'

Of Phasipha, that was the queene of Crete,

For shrewednesse, hym thoughte the tale swete;

Fy! Spek namoore -- it is a grisly thyng --

Of hire horrible lust and hir likyng.

Of Clitermystra, for hire lecherye,

That falsly made hire housbonde for to dye,

He redde it with ful good devocioun.

740 He tolde me eek for what occasioun

Amphiorax at Thebes loste his lyf.

Myn housbonde hadde a legende of his wyf,

Eriphilem, that for an ouche of gold

Hath prively unto the Grekes told

Wher that hir housbonde hidde hym in a place,

For which he hadde at Thebes sory grace.

Of Lyvia tolde he me, and of Lucye:

They bothe made hir housbondes for to dye,

That oon for love, that oother was for hate.

750 Lyvia hir housbonde, on an even late,

Empoysoned hath, for that she was his fo;

Lucia, likerous, loved hire housbonde so

That, for he sholde alwey upon hire thynke,

She yaf hym swich a manere love-drynke

That he was deed er it were by the morwe;

And thus algates housbondes han sorwe.

Thanne tolde he me how oon Latumyus

Compleyned unto his felawe Arrius

That in his gardyn growed swich a tree

760 On which he seyde how that his wyves thre

Hanged hemself for herte despitus.

`O leeve brother,' quod this Arrius,

`Yif me a plante of thilke blissed tree,

And in my gardyn planted shal it bee.'

Of latter date, of wyves hath he red

That somme han slayn hir housbondes in hir bed,

And lete hir lecchour dighte hire al the nyght,

Whan that the corps lay in the floor upright.

And somme han dryve nayles in hir brayn,

770 Whil that they slepte, and thus they had hem slayn.

Somme han hem yeve poysoun in hire drynke.

He spak moore harm than herte may bithynke,

And therwithal he knew of mo proverbes

Than in this world ther growen gras or herbes.

`Bet is,' quod he, `thyn habitacioun

Be with a leon or a foul dragoun,

Than with a womman usynge for to chyde.

Bet is,' quod he, `hye in the roof abyde,

Than with an angry wyf doun in the hous;

780 They been so wikked and contrarious,

They haten that hir housbondes loven ay.'

He seyde, `A womman cast hir shame away,

Whan she cast of hir smok'; and forthermo,

`A fair womman, but she be chaast also,

Is lyk a gold ryng in a sowes nose.'

Who wolde wene, or who wolde suppose,

The wo that in myn herte was, and pyne?

And whan I saugh he wolde nevere fyne

To reden on this cursed book al nyght,

790 Al sodeynly thre leves have I plyght

Out of his book, right as he radde, and eke

I with my fest so took hym on the cheke

That in oure fyr he fil bakward adoun.

And he up stirte as dooth a wood leoun,

And with his fest he smoot me on the heed

That in the floor I lay as I were deed.

And whan he saugh how stille that I lay,

He was agast and wolde han fled his way,

Til atte laste out of my swogh I breyde.

800 `O! hastow slayn me, false theef?' I seyde,

`And for my land thus hastow mordred me?

Er I be deed, yet wol I kisse thee.'

And neer he cam, and kneled faire adoun,

And seyde, `Deere suster Alisoun,

As help me God, I shal thee nevere smyte!

That I have doon, it is thyself to wyte.

Foryeve it me, and that I thee biseke!'

And yet eftsoones I hitte hym on the cheke,

And seyde, `Theef, thus muchel am I wreke;

810 Now wol I dye, I may no lenger speke.'

But atte laste, with muchel care and wo,

We fille acorded by us selven two.

He yaf me al the bridel in myn hond,

To han the governance of hous and lond,

And of his tonge, and of his hond also;

And made hym brenne his book anon right tho.

And whan that I hadde geten unto me,

By maistrie, al the soveraynetee,

And that he seyde, `Myn owene trewe wyf,

820 Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lyf;

Keep thyn honour, and keep eek myn estaat' --

After that day we hadden never debaat.

God helpe me so, I was to hym as kynde

As any wyf from Denmark unto Ynde,

And also trewe, and so was he to me.

I prey to God, that sit in magestee,

So blesse his soule for his mercy deere.

Now wol I seye my tale, if ye wol heere."

The Frere lough, whan he hadde herd al this;

830 "Now dame," quod he, "so have I joye or blis,

This is a long preamble of a tale!"

And whan the Somonour herde the Frere gale,

"Lo," quod the Somonour, "Goddes armes two!

A frere wol entremette hym everemo.

Lo, goode men, a flye and eek a frere

Wol falle in every dyssh and eek mateere.

What spekestow of preambulacioun?

What! amble, or trotte, or pees, or go sit doun!

Thou lettest oure disport in this manere."

840 "Ye, woltow so, sire Somonour?" quod the Frere;

"Now, by my feith I shal, er that I go,

Telle of a somonour swich a tale or two

That alle the folk shal laughen in this place."

"Now elles, Frere, I bishrewe thy face,"

Quod this Somonour, "and I bishrewe me,

But if I telle tales two or thre

Of freres er I come to Sidyngborne

That I shal make thyn herte for to morne,

For wel I woot thy pacience is gon."

850 Oure Hooste cride "Pees! And that anon!"

And seyde, "Lat the womman telle hire tale.

Ye fare as folk that dronken ben of ale.

Do, dame, telle forth youre tale, and that is best."

"Al redy, sire," quod she, "right as yow lest,

If I have licence of this worthy Frere."

"Yis, dame," quod he, "tel forth, and I wol heere."

THE WIFE OF BATH'S TALE

In th' olde dayes of the Kyng Arthour,

Of which that Britons speken greet honour,

Al was this land fulfild of fayerye.

860 The elf-queene, with hir joly compaignye,

Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede.

This was the olde opinion, as I rede;

I speke of manye hundred yeres ago.

But now kan no man se none elves mo,

For now the grete charitee and prayeres

Of lymytours and othere hooly freres,

That serchen every lond and every streem,

As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem,

Blessynge halles, chambres, kichenes, boures,

870 Citees, burghes, castels, hye toures,

Thropes, bernes, shipnes, dayeryes --

This maketh that ther ben no fayeryes.

For ther as wont to walken was an elf

Ther walketh now the lymytour hymself

In undermeles and in morwenynges,

And seyth his matyns and his hooly thynges

As he gooth in his lymytacioun.

Wommen may go saufly up and doun.

In every bussh or under every tree

880 Ther is noon oother incubus but he,

And he ne wol doon hem but dishonour.

And so bifel that this kyng Arthour

Hadde in his hous a lusty bacheler,

That on a day cam ridynge fro ryver,

And happed that, allone as he was born,

He saugh a mayde walkynge hym biforn,

Of which mayde anon, maugree hir heed,

By verray force, he rafte hire maydenhed;

For which oppressioun was swich clamour

890 And swich pursute unto the kyng Arthour

That dampned was this knyght for to be deed,

By cours of lawe, and sholde han lost his heed --

Paraventure swich was the statut tho --

But that the queene and other ladyes mo

So longe preyeden the kyng of grace

Til he his lyf hym graunted in the place,

And yaf hym to the queene, al at hir wille,

To chese wheither she wolde hym save or spille.

The queene thanketh the kyng with al hir myght,

900 And after this thus spak she to the knyght,

Whan that she saugh hir tyme, upon a day:

"Thou standest yet," quod she, "in swich array

That of thy lyf yet hastow no suretee.

I grante thee lyf, if thou kanst tellen me

What thyng is it that wommen moost desiren.

Be war, and keep thy nekke-boon from iren!

And if thou kanst nat tellen it anon,

Yet wol I yeve thee leve for to gon

A twelf-month and a day, to seche and leere

910 An answere suffisant in this mateere;

And suretee wol I han, er that thou pace,

Thy body for to yelden in this place."

Wo was this knyght, and sorwefully he siketh;

But what! He may nat do al as hym liketh.

And at the laste he chees hym for to wende

And come agayn, right at the yeres ende,

With swich answere as God wolde hym purveye;

And taketh his leve, and wendeth forth his weye.

He seketh every hous and every place

920 Where as he hopeth for to fynde grace

To lerne what thyng wommen loven moost,

But he ne koude arryven in no coost

Wher as he myghte fynde in this mateere

Two creatures accordynge in-feere.

Somme seyde wommen loven best richesse,

Somme seyde honour, somme seyde jolynesse,

Somme riche array, somme seyden lust abedde,

And oftetyme to be wydwe and wedde.

Somme seyde that oure hertes been moost esed

930 Whan that we been yflatered and yplesed.

He gooth ful ny the sothe, I wol nat lye.

A man shal wynne us best with flaterye,

And with attendance and with bisynesse

Been we ylymed, bothe moore and lesse.

And somme seyen that we loven best

For to be free and do right as us lest,

And that no man repreve us of oure vice,

But seye that we be wise and no thyng nyce.

For trewely ther is noon of us alle,

940 If any wight wol clawe us on the galle,

That we nel kike, for he seith us sooth.

Assay, and he shal fynde it that so dooth;

For, be we never so vicious withinne,

We wol been holden wise and clene of synne.

And somme seyn that greet delit han we

For to been holden stable, and eek secree,

And in o purpos stedefastly to dwelle,

And nat biwreye thyng that men us telle.

But that tale is nat worth a rake-stele.

950 Pardee, we wommen konne no thyng hele;

Witnesse on Myda -- wol ye heere the tale?

Ovyde, amonges othere thynges smale,

Seyde Myda hadde, under his longe heres,

Growynge upon his heed two asses eres,

The whiche vice he hydde as he best myghte

Ful subtilly from every mannes sighte,

That, save his wyf, ther wiste of it namo.

He loved hire moost, and trusted hire also;

He preyede hire that to no creature

960 She sholde tellen of his disfigure.

She swoor him, "Nay"; for al this world to wynne,

She nolde do that vileynye or synne,

To make hir housbonde han so foul a name.

She nolde nat telle it for hir owene shame.

But nathelees, hir thoughte that she dyde

That she so longe sholde a conseil hyde;

Hir thoughte it swal so soore aboute hir herte

That nedely som word hire moste asterte;

And sith she dorste telle it to no man,

970 Doun to a mareys faste by she ran --

Til she cam there hir herte was afyre --

And as a bitore bombleth in the myre,

She leyde hir mouth unto the water doun:

"Biwreye me nat, thou water, with thy soun,"

Quod she; "to thee I telle it and namo;

Myn housbonde hath longe asses erys two!

Now is myn herte al hool; now is it oute.

I myghte no lenger kepe it, out of doute."

Heere may ye se, thogh we a tyme abyde,

980 Yet out it moot; we kan no conseil hyde.

The remenant of the tale if ye wol heere,

Redeth Ovyde, and ther ye may it leere.

This knyght, of which my tale is specially,

Whan that he saugh he myghte nat come therby --

This is to seye, what wommen love moost --

Withinne his brest ful sorweful was the goost.

But hoom he gooth; he myghte nat sojourne;

The day was come that homward moste he tourne.

And in his wey it happed hym to ryde,

990 In al this care, under a forest syde,

Wher as he saugh upon a daunce go

Of ladyes foure and twenty, and yet mo;

Toward the whiche daunce he drow ful yerne,

In hope that som wysdom sholde he lerne.

But certeinly, er he cam fully there,

Vanysshed was this daunce, he nyste where.

No creature saugh he that bar lyf,

Save on the grene he saugh sittynge a wyf --

A fouler wight ther may no man devyse.

1000 Agayn the knyght this olde wyf gan ryse,

And seyde, "Sire knyght, heer forth ne lith no wey.

Tel me what that ye seken, by youre fey!

Paraventure it may the bettre be;

Thise olde folk kan muchel thyng," quod she.

"My leeve mooder," quod this knyght, "certeyn

I nam but deed but if that I kan seyn

What thyng it is that wommen moost desire.

Koude ye me wisse, I wolde wel quite youre hire."

"Plight me thy trouthe heere in myn hand," quod she,

1010 "The nexte thyng that I requere thee,

Thou shalt it do, if it lye in thy myght,

And I wol telle it yow er it be nyght."

"Have heer my trouthe," quod the knyght, "I grante."

"Thanne," quod she, "I dar me wel avante

Thy lyf is sauf, for I wol stonde therby;

Upon my lyf, the queene wol seye as I.

Lat se which is the proudeste of hem alle

That wereth on a coverchief or a calle

That dar seye nay of that I shal thee teche.

1020 Lat us go forth withouten lenger speche."

Tho rowned she a pistel in his ere,

And bad hym to be glad and have no fere.

Whan they be comen to the court, this knyght

Seyde he had holde his day, as he hadde hight,

And redy was his answere, as he sayde.

Ful many a noble wyf, and many a mayde,

And many a wydwe, for that they been wise,

The queene hirself sittynge as a justise,

Assembled been, his answere for to heere;

1030 And afterward this knyght was bode appeere.

To every wight comanded was silence,

And that the knyght sholde telle in audience

What thyng that worldly wommen loven best.

This knyght ne stood nat stille as doth a best,

But to his questioun anon answerde

With manly voys, that al the court it herde:

"My lige lady, generally," quod he,

"Wommen desiren to have sovereynetee

As wel over hir housbond as hir love,

1040 And for to been in maistrie hym above.

This is youre mooste desir, thogh ye me kille.

Dooth as yow list; I am heer at youre wille."

In al the court ne was ther wyf, ne mayde,

Ne wydwe that contraried that he sayde,

But seyden he was worthy han his lyf.

And with that word up stirte the olde wyf,

Which that the knyght saugh sittynge on the grene:

"Mercy," quod she, "my sovereyn lady queene!

Er that youre court departe, do me right.

1050 I taughte this answere unto the knyght;

For which he plighte me his trouthe there,

The firste thyng that I wolde hym requere

He wolde it do, if it lay in his myghte.

Bifore the court thanne preye I thee, sir knyght,"

Quod she, "that thou me take unto thy wyf,

For wel thou woost that I have kept thy lyf.

If I seye fals, sey nay, upon thy fey!"

This knyght answerde, "Allas and weylawey!

I woot right wel that swich was my biheste.

1060 For Goddes love, as chees a newe requeste!

Taak al my good and lat my body go."

"Nay, thanne," quod she, "I shrewe us bothe two!

For thogh that I be foul, and oold, and poore

I nolde for al the metal, ne for oore

That under erthe is grave or lith above,

But if thy wyf I were, and eek thy love."

"My love?" quod he, "nay, my dampnacioun!

Allas, that any of my nacioun

Sholde evere so foule disparaged be!"

1070 But al for noght; the ende is this, that he

Constreyned was; he nedes moste hire wedde,

And taketh his olde wyf, and gooth to bedde.

Now wolden som men seye, paraventure,

That for my necligence I do no cure

To tellen yow the joye and al th' array

That at the feeste was that ilke day.

To which thyng shortly answeren I shal:

I seye ther nas no joye ne feeste at al;

Ther nas but hevynesse and muche sorwe.

1080 For prively he wedded hire on morwe,

And al day after hidde hym as an owle,

So wo was hym, his wyf looked so foule.

Greet was the wo the knyght hadde in his thoght,

Whan he was with his wyf abedde ybroght;

He walweth and he turneth to and fro.

His olde wyf lay smylynge everemo,

And seyde, "O deere housbonde, benedicitee!

Fareth every knyght thus with his wyf as ye?

Is this the lawe of kyng Arthures hous?

1090 Is every knyght of his so dangerous?

I am youre owene love and youre wyf;

I am she which that saved hath youre lyf,

And, certes, yet ne dide I yow nevere unright;

Why fare ye thus with me this firste nyght?

Ye faren lyk a man had lost his wit.

What is my gilt? For Goddes love, tel it,

And it shal been amended, if I may."

"Amended?" quod this knyght, "Allas, nay, nay!

It wol nat been amended nevere mo.

1100 Thou art so loothly, and so oold also,

And therto comen of so lough a kynde,

That litel wonder is thogh I walwe and wynde.

So wolde God myn herte wolde breste!"

"Is this," quod she, "the cause of youre unreste?"

"Ye, certeinly," quod he, "no wonder is."

"Now, sire," quod she, "I koude amende al this,

If that me liste, er it were dayes thre,

So wel ye myghte bere yow unto me.

"But, for ye speken of swich gentillesse

1110 As is descended out of old richesse,

That therfore sholden ye be gentil men,

Swich arrogance is nat worth an hen.

Looke who that is moost vertuous alway,

Pryvee and apert, and moost entendeth ay

To do the gentil dedes that he kan;

Taak hym for the grettest gentil man.

Crist wole we clayme of hym oure gentillesse,

Nat of oure eldres for hire old richesse.

For thogh they yeve us al hir heritage,

1120 For which we clayme to been of heigh parage,

Yet may they nat biquethe for no thyng

To noon of us hir vertuous lyvyng,

That made hem gentil men ycalled be,

And bad us folwen hem in swich degree.

"Wel kan the wise poete of Florence,

That highte Dant, speken in this sentence.

Lo, in swich maner rym is Dantes tale:

`Ful selde up riseth by his branches smale

Prowesse of man, for God, of his goodnesse,

1130 Wole that of hym we clayme oure gentillesse';

For of oure eldres may we no thyng clayme

But temporel thyng, that man may hurte and mayme.

"Eek every wight woot this as wel as I,

If gentillesse were planted natureelly

Unto a certeyn lynage doun the lyne,

Pryvee and apert thanne wolde they nevere fyne

To doon of gentillesse the faire office;

They myghte do no vileynye or vice.

"Taak fyr and ber it in the derkeste hous

1140 Bitwix this and the mount of Kaukasous,

And lat men shette the dores and go thenne;

Yet wole the fyr as faire lye and brenne

As twenty thousand men myghte it biholde;

His office natureel ay wol it holde,

Up peril of my lyf, til that it dye.

"Heere may ye se wel how that genterye

Is nat annexed to possessioun,

Sith folk ne doon hir operacioun

Alwey, as dooth the fyr, lo, in his kynde.

1150 For, God it woot, men may wel often fynde

A lordes sone do shame and vileynye;

And he that wole han pris of his gentrye,

For he was boren of a gentil hous

And hadde his eldres noble and vertuous,

And nel hymselven do no gentil dedis

Ne folwen his gentil auncestre that deed is,

He nys nat gentil, be he duc or erl,

For vileyns synful dedes make a cherl.

For gentillesse nys but renomee

1160 Of thyne auncestres, for hire heigh bountee,

Which is a strange thyng to thy persone.

Thy gentillesse cometh fro God allone.

Thanne comth oure verray gentillesse of grace;

It was no thyng biquethe us with oure place.

"Thenketh hou noble, as seith Valerius,

Was thilke Tullius Hostillius,

That out of poverte roos to heigh noblesse.

Reedeth Senek, and redeth eek Boece;

Ther shul ye seen expres that it no drede is

1170 That he is gentil that dooth gentil dedis.

And therfore, leeve housbonde, I thus conclude:

Al were it that myne auncestres were rude,

Yet may the hye God, and so hope I,

Grante me grace to lyven vertuously.

Thanne am I gentil, whan that I bigynne

To lyven vertuously and weyve synne.

"And ther as ye of poverte me repreeve,

The hye God, on whom that we bileeve,

In wilful poverte chees to lyve his lyf.

1180 And certes every man, mayden, or wyf

May understonde that Jhesus, hevene kyng,

Ne wolde nat chese a vicious lyvyng.

Glad poverte is an honest thyng, certeyn;

This wole Senec and othere clerkes seyn.

Whoso that halt hym payd of his poverte,

I holde hym riche, al hadde he nat a sherte.

He that coveiteth is a povre wight,

For he wolde han that is nat in his myght;

But he that noght hath, ne coveiteth have,

1190 Is riche, although ye holde hym but a knave.

Verray poverte, it syngeth proprely;

Juvenal seith of poverte myrily:

`The povre man, whan he goth by the weye,

Bifore the theves he may synge and pleye.'

Poverte is hateful good and, as I gesse,

A ful greet bryngere out of bisynesse;

A greet amendere eek of sapience

To hym that taketh it in pacience.

Poverte is this, although it seme alenge:

1200 Possessioun that no wight wol chalenge.

Poverte ful ofte, whan a man is lowe,

Maketh his God and eek hymself to knowe.

Poverte a spectacle is, as thynketh me,

Thurgh which he may his verray freendes see.

And therfore, sire, syn that I noght yow greve,

Of my poverte namoore ye me repreve.

"Now, sire, of elde ye repreve me;

And certes, sire, thogh noon auctoritee

Were in no book, ye gentils of honour

1210 Seyn that men sholde an oold wight doon favour

And clepe hym fader, for youre gentillesse;

And auctours shal I fynden, as I gesse.

"Now ther ye seye that I am foul and old,

Than drede you noght to been a cokewold;

For filthe and eelde, also moot I thee,

Been grete wardeyns upon chastitee.

But nathelees, syn I knowe youre delit,

I shal fulfille youre worldly appetit.

"Chese now," quod she, "oon of thise thynges tweye:

1220 To han me foul and old til that I deye,

And be to yow a trewe, humble wyf,

And nevere yow displese in al my lyf,

Or elles ye wol han me yong and fair,

And take youre aventure of the repair

That shal be to youre hous by cause of me,

Or in som oother place, may wel be.

Now chese yourselven, wheither that yow liketh."

This knyght avyseth hym and sore siketh,

But atte laste he seyde in this manere:

1230 "My lady and my love, and wyf so deere,

I put me in youre wise governance;

Cheseth youreself which may be moost plesance

And moost honour to yow and me also.

I do no fors the wheither of the two,

For as yow liketh, it suffiseth me."

"Thanne have I gete of yow maistrie," quod she,

"Syn I may chese and governe as me lest?"

"Ye, certes, wyf," quod he, "I holde it best."

"Kys me," quod she, "we be no lenger wrothe,

1240 For, by my trouthe, I wol be to yow bothe --

This is to seyn, ye, bothe fair and good.

I prey to God that I moote sterven wood,

But I to yow be also good and trewe

As evere was wyf, syn that the world was newe.

And but I be to-morn as fair to seene

As any lady, emperice, or queene,

That is bitwixe the est and eke the west,

Dooth with my lyf and deth right as yow lest.

Cast up the curtyn, looke how that it is."

1250 And whan the knyght saugh verraily al this,

That she so fair was, and so yong therto,

For joye he hente hire in his armes two.

His herte bathed in a bath of blisse.

A thousand tyme a-rewe he gan hire kisse,

And she obeyed hym in every thyng

That myghte doon hym plesance or likyng.

And thus they lyve unto hir lyves ende

In parfit joye; and Jhesu Crist us sende

Housbondes meeke, yonge, and fressh abedde,

1260 And grace t' overbyde hem that we wedde;

And eek I praye Jhesu shorte hir lyves

That noght wol be governed by hir wyves;

And olde and angry nygardes of dispence,

God sende hem soone verray pestilence!

THE FRIAR'S PROLOGUE

This worthy lymytour, this noble Frere,

He made alwey a maner louryng chiere

Upon the Somonour, but for honestee

No vileyns word as yet to hym spak he.

But atte laste he seyde unto the wyf,

1270 "Dame," quod he, "God yeve yow right good lyf!

Ye han heer touched, also moot I thee,

In scole-matere greet difficultee.

Ye han seyd muche thyng right wel, I seye;

But, dame, heere as we ryde by the weye,

Us nedeth nat to speken but of game,

And lete auctoritees, on Goddes name,

To prechyng and to scoles of clergye.

But if it lyke to this compaignye,

I wol yow of a somonour telle a game.

1280 Pardee, ye may wel knowe by the name

That of a somonour may no good be sayd;

I praye that noon of you be yvele apayd.

A somonour is a rennere up and doun

With mandementz for fornicacioun,

And is ybet at every townes ende."

Oure Hoost tho spak, "A, sire, ye sholde be hende

And curteys, as a man of youre estaat;

In compaignye we wol have no debaat.

Telleth youre tale, and lat the Somonour be."

1290 "Nay," quod the Somonour, "lat hym seye to me

What so hym list; whan it comth to my lot,

By God, I shal hym quiten every grot.

I shal hym tellen which a greet honour

It is to be a flaterynge lymytour,

And of many another manere cryme

Which nedeth nat rehercen at this tyme;

And his office I shal hym telle, ywis."

Oure Hoost answerde, "Pees, namoore of this!"

And after this he seyde unto the Frere,

1300 "Tel forth youre tale, leeve maister deere."

THE FRIAR'S TALE

Whilom ther was dwellynge in my contree

An erchedeken, a man of heigh degree,

That boldely dide execucioun

In punysshynge of fornicacioun,

Of wicchecraft, and eek of bawderye,

Of diffamacioun, and avowtrye,

Of chirche reves, and of testamentz,

Of contractes and of lakke of sacramentz,

Of usure, and of symonye also.

1310 But certes, lecchours dide he grettest wo;

They sholde syngen if that they were hent;

And smale tytheres weren foule yshent,

If any persoun wolde upon hem pleyne.

Ther myghte asterte hym no pecunyal peyne.

For smale tithes and for smal offrynge

He made the peple pitously to synge,

For er the bisshop caughte hem with his hook,

They weren in the erchedeknes book.

Thanne hadde he, thurgh his jurisdiccioun,

1320 Power to doon on hem correccioun.

He hadde a somonour redy to his hond;

A slyer boye nas noon in Engelond;

For subtilly he hadde his espiaille,

That taughte hym wel wher that hym myghte availle.

He koude spare of lecchours oon or two,

To techen hym to foure and twenty mo.

For thogh this Somonour wood were as an hare,

To telle his harlotrye I wol nat spare;

For we been out of his correccioun.

1330 They han of us no jurisdiccioun,

Ne nevere shullen, terme of alle hir lyves.

"Peter! so been wommen of the styves,"

Quod the Somonour, "yput out of oure cure!"

"Pees! with myschance and with mysaventure!"

Thus seyde oure Hoost, "and lat hym telle his tale.

Now telleth forth, thogh that the Somonour gale;

Ne spareth nat, myn owene maister deere."

This false theef, this somonour, quod the Frere,

Hadde alwey bawdes redy to his hond,

1340 As any hauk to lure in Engelond,

That tolde hym al the secree that they knewe,

For hire acqueyntance was nat come of newe.

They weren his approwours prively.

He took hymself a greet profit therby;

His maister knew nat alwey what he wan.

Withouten mandement a lewed man

He koude somne, on peyne of Cristes curs,

And they were glade for to fille his purs

And make hym grete feestes atte nale.

1350 And right as Judas hadde purses smale,

And was a theef, right swich a theef was he;

His maister hadde but half his duetee.

He was, if I shal yeven hym his laude,

A theef, and eek a somnour, and a baude.

He hadde eek wenches at his retenue,

That, wheither that sir Robert or sir Huwe,

Or Jakke, or Rauf, or whoso that it were

That lay by hem, they tolde it in his ere.

Thus was the wenche and he of oon assent,

1360 And he wolde fecche a feyned mandement,

And somne hem to chapitre bothe two,

And pile the man, and lete the wenche go.

Thanne wolde he seye, "Freend, I shal for thy sake

Do striken hire out of oure lettres blake;

Thee thar namoore as in this cas travaille.

I am thy freend, ther I thee may availle."

Certeyn he knew of briberyes mo

Than possible is to telle in yeres two.

For in this world nys dogge for the bowe

1370 That kan an hurt deer from an hool yknowe

Bet than this somnour knew a sly lecchour,

Or an avowtier, or a paramour.

And for that was the fruyt of al his rente,

Therfore on it he sette al his entente.

And so bifel that ones on a day

This somnour, evere waityng on his pray,

Rood for to somne an old wydwe, a ribibe,

Feynynge a cause, for he wolde brybe.

And happed that he saugh bifore hym ryde

1380 A gay yeman, under a forest syde.

A bowe he bar, and arwes brighte and kene;

He hadde upon a courtepy of grene,

An hat upon his heed with frenges blake.

"Sire," quod this somnour, "hayl, and wel atake!"

"Welcome," quod he, "and every good felawe!

Wher rydestow, under this grene-wode shawe?"

Seyde this yeman, "Wiltow fer to day?"

This somnour hym answerde and seyde, "Nay;

Heere faste by," quod he, "is myn entente

1390 To ryden, for to reysen up a rente

That longeth to my lordes duetee."

"Artow thanne a bailly?" "Ye," quod he.

He dorste nat, for verray filthe and shame

Seye that he was a somonour, for the name.

"Depardieux," quod this yeman, "deere broother,

Thou art a bailly, and I am another.

I am unknowen as in this contree;

Of thyn aqueyntance I wolde praye thee,

And eek of bretherhede, if that yow leste.

1400 I have gold and silver in my cheste;

If that thee happe to comen in oure shire,

Al shal be thyn, right as thou wolt desire."

"Grant mercy," quod this somonour, "by my feith!"

Everych in ootheres hand his trouthe leith,

For to be sworne bretheren til they deye.

In daliance they ryden forth and pleye.

This somonour, which that was as ful of jangles

As ful of venym been thise waryangles

And evere enqueryng upon every thyng,

1410 "Brother," quod he, "where is now youre dwellyng

Another day if that I sholde yow seche?"

This yeman hym answerde in softe speche,

"Brother," quod he, "fer in the north contree,

Whereas I hope som tyme I shal thee see.

Er we departe, I shal thee so wel wisse

That of myn hous ne shaltow nevere mysse."

"Now, brother," quod this somonour, "I yow preye,

Teche me, whil that we ryden by the weye,

Syn that ye been a baillif as am I,

1420 Som subtiltee, and tel me feithfully

In myn office how that I may moost wynne;

And spareth nat for conscience ne synne,

But as my brother tel me, how do ye."

"Now, by my trouthe, brother deere," seyde he,

"As I shal tellen thee a feithful tale,

My wages been ful streite and ful smale.

My lord is hard to me and daungerous,

And myn office is ful laborous,

And therfore by extorcions I lyve.

1430 For sothe, I take al that men wol me yive.

Algate, by sleyghte or by violence,

Fro yeer to yeer I wynne al my dispence.

I kan no bettre telle, feithfully."

"Now certes," quod this Somonour, "so fare I.

I spare nat to taken, God it woot,

But if it be to hevy or to hoot.

What I may gete in conseil prively,

No maner conscience of that have I.

Nere myn extorcioun, I myghte nat lyven,

1440 Ne of swiche japes wol I nat be shryven.

Stomak ne conscience ne knowe I noon;

I shrewe thise shrifte-fadres everychoon.

Wel be we met, by God and by Seint Jame!

But, leeve brother, tel me thanne thy name,"

Quod this somonour. In this meene while

This yeman gan a litel for to smyle.

"Brother," quod he, "wiltow that I thee telle?

I am a feend; my dwellyng is in helle,

And heere I ryde aboute my purchasyng,

1450 To wite wher men wol yeve me any thyng.

My purchas is th' effect of al my rente.

Looke how thou rydest for the same entente,

To wynne good, thou rekkest nevere how;

Right so fare I, for ryde wolde I now

Unto the worldes ende for a preye."

"A!" quod this somonour, "benedicite! What sey ye?

I wende ye were a yeman trewely.

Ye han a mannes shap as wel as I;

Han ye a figure thanne determinat

1460 In helle, ther ye been in youre estat?"

"Nay, certeinly," quod he, "ther have we noon;

But whan us liketh we kan take us oon,

Or elles make yow seme we been shape;

Somtyme lyk a man, or lyk an ape,

Or lyk an angel kan I ryde or go.

It is no wonder thyng thogh it be so;

A lowsy jogelour kan deceyve thee,

And pardee, yet kan I moore craft than he."

"Why," quod this somonour, "ryde ye thanne or goon

1470 In sondry shap, and nat alwey in oon?"

"For we," quod he, "wol us swiche formes make

As moost able is oure preyes for to take."

"What maketh yow to han al this labour?"

"Ful many a cause, leeve sire somonour,"

Seyde this feend, "but alle thyng hath tyme.

The day is short, and it is passed pryme,

And yet ne wan I nothyng in this day.

I wol entende to wynnyng, if I may,

And nat entende oure wittes to declare.

1480 For, brother myn, thy wit is al to bare

To understonde, althogh I tolde hem thee.

But, for thou axest why labouren we --

For somtyme we been Goddes instrumentz

And meenes to doon his comandementz,

Whan that hym list, upon his creatures,

In divers art and in diverse figures.

Withouten hym we have no myght, certayn,

If that hym list to stonden ther-agayn.

And somtyme, at oure prayere, han we leve

1490 Oonly the body and nat the soule greve;

Witnesse on Job, whom that we diden wo.

And somtyme han we myght of bothe two --

This is to seyn, of soule and body eke.

And somtyme be we suffred for to seke

Upon a man and doon his soule unreste

And nat his body, and al is for the beste.

Whan he withstandeth oure temptacioun,

It is a cause of his savacioun,

Al be it that it was nat oure entente

1500 He sholde be sauf, but that we wolde hym hente.

And somtyme be we servant unto man,

As to the erchebisshop Seint Dunstan,

And to the apostles servant eek was I."

"Yet tel me," quod the somonour, "feithfully,

Make ye yow newe bodies thus alway

Of elementz?" The feend answerde, "Nay.

Somtyme we feyne, and somtyme we aryse

With dede bodyes, in ful sondry wyse,

And speke as renably and faire and wel

1510 As to the Phitonissa dide Samuel.

(And yet wol som men seye it was nat he;

I do no fors of youre dyvynytee.)

But o thyng warne I thee, I wol nat jape:

Thou wolt algates wite how we been shape;

Thou shalt herafterward, my brother deere,

Come there thee nedeth nat of me to leere,

For thou shalt, by thyn owene experience,

Konne in a chayer rede of this sentence

Bet than Virgile, while he was on lyve,

1520 Or Dant also. Now lat us ryde blyve,

For I wole holde compaignye with thee

Til it be so that thou forsake me."

"Nay," quod this somonour, "that shal nat bityde!

I am a yeman, knowen is ful wyde;

My trouthe wol I holde, as in this cas.

For though thou were the devel Sathanas,

My trouthe wol I holde to my brother,

As I am sworn, and ech of us til oother,

For to be trewe brother in this cas;

1530 And bothe we goon abouten oure purchas.

Taak thou thy part, what that men wol thee yive,

And I shal myn; thus may we bothe lyve.

And if that any of us have moore than oother,

Lat hym be trewe and parte it with his brother."

"I graunte," quod the devel, "by my fey."

And with that word they ryden forth hir wey.

And right at the entryng of the townes ende,

To which this somonour shoop hym for to wende,

They saugh a cart that charged was with hey,

1540 Which that a cartere droof forth in his wey.

Deep was the wey, for which the carte stood.

The cartere smoot and cryde as he were wood,

"Hayt, Brok! Hayt, Scot! What spare ye for the stones?

The feend," quod he, "yow fecche, body and bones,

As ferforthly as evere were ye foled,

So muche wo as I have with yow tholed!

The devel have al, bothe hors and cart and hey!"

This somonour seyde, "Heere shal we have a pley."

And neer the feend he drough, as noght ne were,

1550 Ful prively, and rowned in his ere:

"Herkne, my brother, herkne, by thy feith!

Herestow nat how that the cartere seith?

Hent it anon, for he hath yeve it thee,

Bothe hey and cart, and eek his caples thre."

"Nay," quod the devel, "God woot, never a deel!

It is nat his entente, trust me weel.

Axe hym thyself, if thou nat trowest me;

Or elles stynt a while, and thou shalt see."

This cartere thakketh his hors upon the croupe,

1560 And they bigonne to drawen and to stoupe.

"Heyt! Now," quod he, "ther Jhesu Crist yow blesse,

And al his handwerk, bothe moore and lesse!

That was wel twight, myn owene lyard boy.

I pray God save thee, and Seinte Loy!

Now is my cart out of the slow, pardee!"

"Lo, brother," quod the feend, "what tolde I thee?

Heere may ye se, myn owene deere brother,

The carl spak oo thing, but he thoghte another.

Lat us go forth abouten oure viage;

1570 Heere wynne I nothyng upon cariage."

Whan that they coomen somwhat out of towne,

This somonour to his brother gan to rowne:

"Brother," quod he, "heere woneth an old rebekke

That hadde almoost as lief to lese hire nekke

As for to yeve a peny of hir good.

I wole han twelf pens, though that she be wood,

Or I wol sompne hire unto oure office;

And yet, God woot, of hire knowe I no vice.

But for thou kanst nat, as in this contree,

1580 Wynne thy cost, taak heer ensample of me."

This somonour clappeth at the wydwes gate.

"Com out," quod he, "thou olde virytrate!

I trowe thou hast som frere or preest with thee."

"Who clappeth?" seyde this wyf, "benedicitee!

God save you, sire, what is youre sweete wille?"

"I have," quod he, "of somonce here a bille;

Up peyne of cursyng, looke that thou be

Tomorn bifore the erchedeknes knee

T' answere to the court of certeyn thynges."

1590 "Now, Lord," quod she, "Crist Jhesu, kyng of kynges,

So wisly helpe me, as I ne may.

I have been syk, and that ful many a day.

I may nat go so fer," quod she, "ne ryde,

But I be deed, so priketh it in my syde.

May I nat axe a libel, sire somonour,

And answere there by my procuratour

To swich thyng as men wole opposen me?"

"Yis," quod this somonour, "pay anon -- lat se --

Twelf pens to me, and I wol thee acquite.

1600 I shal no profit han therby but lite;

My maister hath the profit and nat I.

Com of, and lat me ryden hastily;

Yif me twelf pens, I may no lenger tarye."

"Twelf pens!" quod she, "Now, lady Seinte Marie

So wisly help me out of care and synne,

This wyde world thogh that I sholde wynne,

Ne have I nat twelf pens withinne myn hoold.

Ye knowen wel that I am povre and oold;

Kithe youre almesse on me, povre wrecche."

1610 "Nay thanne," quod he, "the foule feend me fecche

If I th' excuse, though thou shul be spilt!"

"Allas!" quod she, "God woot, I have no gilt."

"Pay me," quod he, "or by the sweete Seinte Anne,

As I wol bere awey thy newe panne

For dette which thou owest me of old.

Whan that thou madest thyn housbonde cokewold,

I payde at hoom for thy correccioun."

"Thou lixt!" quod she, "by my savacioun,

Ne was I nevere er now, wydwe ne wyf,

1620 Somoned unto youre court in al my lyf;

Ne nevere I nas but of my body trewe!

Unto the devel blak and rough of hewe

Yeve I thy body and my panne also!"

And whan the devel herde hire cursen so

Upon hir knees, he seyde in this manere,

"Now, Mabely, myn owene mooder deere,

Is this youre wyl in ernest that ye seye?"

"The devel," quod she, "so fecche hym er he deye,

And panne and al, but he wol hym repente!"

1630 "Nay, olde stot, that is nat myn entente,"

Quod this somonour, "for to repente me

For any thyng that I have had of thee.

I wolde I hadde thy smok and every clooth!"

"Now, brother," quod the devel, "be nat wrooth;

Thy body and this panne been myne by right.

Thou shalt with me to helle yet tonyght,

Where thou shalt knowen of oure privetee

Moore than a maister of dyvynytee."

And with that word this foule feend hym hente;

1640 Body and soule he with the devel wente

Where as that somonours han hir heritage.

And God, that maked after his ymage

Mankynde, save and gyde us, alle and some,

And leve thise somonours goode men bicome!

Lordynges, I koude han toold yow, quod this Frere,

Hadde I had leyser for this Somnour heere,

After the text of Crist, Poul, and John,

And of oure othere doctours many oon,

Swiche peynes that youre hertes myghte agryse,

1650 Al be it so no tonge may it devyse,

Thogh that I myghte a thousand wynter telle

The peynes of thilke cursed hous of helle.

But for to kepe us fro that cursed place,

Waketh and preyeth Jhesu for his grace

So kepe us fro the temptour Sathanas.

Herketh this word! Beth war, as in this cas:

"The leoun sit in his awayt alway

To sle the innocent, if that he may."

Disposeth ay youre hertes to withstonde

1660 The feend, that yow wolde make thral and bonde.

He may nat tempte yow over youre myght,

For Crist wol be youre champion and knyght.

And prayeth that thise somonours hem repente

Of hir mysdedes, er that the feend hem hente!

THE SUMMONER'S PROLOGUE

This Somonour in his styropes hye stood;

Upon this Frere his herte was so wood

That lyk an aspen leef he quook for ire.

"Lordynges," quod he, "but o thyng I desire;

I yow biseke that, of youre curteisye,

1670 Syn ye han herd this false Frere lye,

As suffreth me I may my tale telle.

This Frere bosteth that he knoweth helle,

And God it woot, that it is litel wonder;

Freres and feendes been but lyte asonder.

For, pardee, ye han ofte tyme herd telle

How that a frere ravysshed was to helle

In spirit ones by a visioun;

And as an angel ladde hym up and doun,

To shewen hym the peynes that ther were,

1680 In al the place saugh he nat a frere;

Of oother folk he saugh ynowe in wo.

Unto this angel spak the frere tho:

`Now, sire,' quod he, `han freres swich a grace

That noon of hem shal come to this place?'

`Yis' quod this angel, `many a millioun!'

And unto Sathanas he ladde hym doun.

`And now hath Sathanas,' seith he, `a tayl

Brodder than of a carryk is the sayl.

Hold up thy tayl, thou Sathanas!' quod he;

1690 `Shewe forth thyn ers, and lat the frere se

Where is the nest of freres in this place!'

And er that half a furlong wey of space,

Right so as bees out swarmen from an hyve,

Out of the develes ers ther gonne dryve

Twenty thousand freres on a route,

And thurghout helle swarmed al aboute,

And comen agayn as faste as they may gon,

And in his ers they crepten everychon.

He clapte his tayl agayn and lay ful stille.

1700 This frere, whan he looked hadde his fille

Upon the tormentz of this sory place,

His spirit God restored, of his grace,

Unto his body agayn, and he awook.

But natheles, for fere yet he quook,

So was the develes ers ay in his mynde,

That is his heritage of verray kynde.

God save yow alle, save this cursed Frere!

My prologe wol I ende in this manere."

THE SUMMONER'S TALE

Lordynges, ther is in Yorkshire, as I gesse,

1710 A mersshy contree called Holdernesse,

In which ther wente a lymytour aboute

To preche, and eek to begge, it is no doute.

And so bifel that on a day this frere

Hadde preched at a chirche in his manere,

And specially, aboven every thyng,

Excited he the peple in his prechyng

To trentals, and to yeve, for Goddes sake,

Wherwith men myghte hooly houses make,

Ther as divine servyce is honoured,

1720 Nat ther as it is wasted and devoured,

Ne ther it nedeth nat for to be yive,

As to possessioners, that mowen lyve,

Thanked be God, in wele and habundaunce.

"Trentals," seyde he, "deliveren fro penaunce

Hir freendes soules, as wel olde as yonge --

Ye, whan that they been hastily ysonge,

Nat for to holde a preest joly and gay --

He syngeth nat but o masse in a day.

Delivereth out," quod he, "anon the soules!

1730 Ful hard it is with flesshhook or with oules

To been yclawed, or to brenne or bake.

Now spede yow hastily, for Cristes sake!"

And whan this frere had seyd al his entente,

With qui cum patre forth his wey he wente.

Whan folk in chirche had yeve him what hem leste,

He wente his wey; no lenger wolde he reste.

With scrippe and tipped staf, ytukked hye,

In every hous he gan to poure and prye,

And beggeth mele and chese, or elles corn.

1740 His felawe hadde a staf tipped with horn,

A peyre of tables al of yvory,

And a poyntel polysshed fetisly,

And wroot the names alwey, as he stood,

Of alle folk that yaf hym any good,

Ascaunces that he wolde for hem preye.

"Yif us a busshel whete, malt, or reye,

A Goddes kechyl, or a trype of chese,

Or elles what yow lyst, we may nat cheese;

A Goddes halfpeny, or a masse peny,

1750 Or yif us of youre brawn, if ye have eny;

A dagon of youre blanket, leeve dame,

Oure suster deere -- lo! Heere I write youre name --

Bacon or beef, or swich thyng as ye fynde."

A sturdy harlot wente ay hem bihynde,

That was hir hostes man, and bar a sak,

And what men yaf hem, leyde it on his bak.

And whan that he was out at dore, anon

He planed awey the names everichon

That he biforn had writen in his tables;

1760 He served hem with nyfles and with fables.

"Nay, ther thou lixt, thou Somonour!" quod the Frere.

"Pees," quod oure Hoost, "for Cristes mooder deere!

Tel forth thy tale, and spare it nat at al."

"So thryve I," quod this Somonour, "so I shal!"

So longe he wente, hous by hous, til he

Cam til an hous ther he was wont to be

Refresshed moore than in an hundred placis.

Syk lay the goode man whos that the place is;

Bedrede upon a couche lowe he lay.

1770 "Deus hic!" quod he, "O Thomas, freend, good day!"

Seyde this frere, curteisly and softe.

"Thomas," quod he, "God yelde yow! Ful ofte

Have I upon this bench faren ful weel;

Heere have I eten many a myrie meel."

And fro the bench he droof awey the cat,

And leyde adoun his potente and his hat,

And eek his scrippe, and sette hym softe adoun.

His felawe was go walked into toun

Forth with his knave, into that hostelrye

1780 Where as he shoop hym thilke nyght to lye.

"O deere maister," quod this sike man,

"How han ye fare sith that March bigan?

I saugh yow noght this fourtenyght or moore."

"God woot," quod he, "laboured I have ful soore,

And specially for thy savacion

Have I seyd many a precious orison,

And for oure othere freendes, God hem blesse!

I have to day been at youre chirche at messe,

And seyd a sermon after my symple wit --

1790 Nat al after the text of hooly writ,

For it is hard to yow, as I suppose,

And therfore wol I teche yow al the glose.

Glosynge is a glorious thyng, certeyn,

For lettre sleeth, so as we clerkes seyn --

There have I taught hem to be charitable,

And spende hir good ther it is resonable;

And there I saugh oure dame -- A! Where is she?"

"Yond in the yerd I trowe that she be,"

Seyde this man, "and she wol come anon."

1800 "Ey, maister, welcome be ye, by Seint John!"

Seyde this wyf, "How fare ye, hertely?"

The frere ariseth up ful curteisly,

And hire embraceth in his armes narwe,

And kiste hire sweete, and chirketh as a sparwe

With his lyppes: "Dame," quod he, "right weel,

As he that is youre servant every deel,

Thanked be God, that yow yaf soule and lyf!

Yet saugh I nat this day so fair a wyf

In al the chirche, God so save me!"

1810 "Ye, God amende defautes, sire," quod she.

"Algates, welcome be ye, by my fey!"

"Graunt mercy, dame, this have I founde alwey.

But of youre grete goodnesse, by youre leve,

I wolde prey yow that ye nat yow greve,

I wole with Thomas speke a litel throwe.

Thise curatz been ful necligent and slowe

To grope tendrely a conscience

In shrift; in prechyng is my diligence,

And studie in Petres wordes and in Poules.

1820 I walke and fisshe Cristen mennes soules

To yelden Jhesu Crist his propre rente;

To sprede his word is set al myn entente."

"Now, by youre leve, o deere sire," quod she,

"Chideth him weel, for seinte Trinitee!

He is as angry as a pissemyre,

Though that he have al that he kan desire;

Though I hym wrye a-nyght and make hym warm,

And over hym leye my leg outher myn arm,

He groneth lyk oure boor, lith in oure sty.

1830 Oother desport right noon of hym have I;

I may nat plese hym in no maner cas."

"O Thomas, je vous dy, Thomas! Thomas!

This maketh the feend; this moste ben amended.

Ire is a thyng that hye God defended,

And therof wol I speke a word or two."

"Now, maister," quod the wyf, "er that I go,

What wol ye dyne? I wol go theraboute."

"Now, dame," quod he, "now je vous dy sanz doute,

Have I nat of a capon but the lyvere,

1840 And of youre softe breed nat but a shyvere,

And after that a rosted pigges heed --

But that I nolde no beest for me were deed --

Thanne hadde I with yow hoomly suffisaunce.

I am a man of litel sustenaunce;

My spirit hath his fostryng in the Bible.

The body is ay so redy and penyble

To wake, that my stomak is destroyed.

I prey yow, dame, ye be nat anoyed,

Though I so freendly yow my conseil shewe.

1850 By God! I wolde nat telle it but a fewe."

"Now, sire," quod she, "but o word er I go.

My child is deed withinne thise wykes two,

Soone after that ye wente out of this toun."

"His deeth saugh I by revelacioun,"

Seide this frere, "at hoom in oure dortour.

I dar wel seyn that, er that half an hour

After his deeth, I saugh hym born to blisse

In myn avision, so God me wisse!

So dide oure sexteyn and oure fermerer,

1860 That han been trewe freres fifty yeer;

They may now -- God be thanked of his loone! --

Maken hir jubilee and walke allone.

And up I roos, and al oure covent eke,

With many a teere trillyng on my cheke,

Withouten noyse or claterynge of belles;

Te Deum was oure song, and nothyng elles,

Save that to Crist I seyde an orison,

Thankynge hym of his revelacion.

For, sire and dame, trusteth me right weel,

1870 Oure orisons been moore effectueel,

And moore we seen of Cristes secree thynges,

Than burel folk, although they weren kynges.

We lyve in poverte and in abstinence,

And burell folk in richesse and despence

Of mete and drynke, and in hir foul delit.

We han this worldes lust al in despit.

Lazar and Dives lyveden diversly,

And divers gerdon hadden they therby.

Whoso wol preye, he moot faste and be clene,

1880 And fatte his soule, and make his body lene.

We fare as seith th' apostle; clooth and foode

Suffisen us, though they be nat ful goode.

The clennesse and the fastynge of us freres

Maketh that Crist accepteth oure preyeres.

"Lo, Moyses fourty dayes and fourty nyght

Fasted, er that the heighe God of myght

Spak with hym in the mountayne of Synay.

With empty wombe, fastynge many a day,

Receyved he the lawe that was writen

1890 With Goddes fynger; and Elye, wel ye witen,

In mount Oreb, er he hadde any speche

With hye God, that is oure lyves leche,

He fasted longe and was in contemplaunce.

"Aaron, that hadde the temple in governaunce,

And eek the othere preestes everichon,

Into the temple whan they sholde gon

To preye for the peple and do servyse,

They nolden drynken in no maner wyse

No drynke which that myghte hem dronke make,

1900 But there in abstinence preye and wake,

Lest that they deyden. Taak heede what I seye!

But they be sobre that for the peple preye,

War that -- I seye namoore, for it suffiseth.

"Oure Lord Jhesu, as hooly writ devyseth,

Yaf us ensample of fastynge and preyeres.

Therfore we mendynantz, we sely freres,

Been wedded to poverte and continence,

To charite, humblesse, and abstinence,

To persecucioun for rightwisnesse,

1910 To wepynge, misericorde, and clennesse.

And therfore may ye se that oure preyeres --

I speke of us, we mendynantz, we freres --

Been to the hye God moore acceptable

Than youres, with youre feestes at the table.

Fro Paradys first, if I shal nat lye,

Was man out chaced for his glotonye;

And chaast was man in Paradys, certeyn.

"But herkne now, Thomas, what I shal seyn.

I ne have no text of it, as I suppose,

1920 But I shal fynde it in a maner glose,

That specially oure sweete Lord Jhesus

Spak this by freres, whan he seyde thus:

`Blessed be they that povere in spirit been.'

And so forth al the gospel may ye seen,

Wher it be likker oure professioun,

Or hirs that swymmen in possessioun.

Fy on hire pompe and on hire glotonye!

And for hir lewednesse I hem diffye.

"Me thynketh they been lyk Jovinyan,

1930 Fat as a whale, and walkynge as a swan,

Al vinolent as botel in the spence.

Hir preyere is of ful greet reverence,

Whan they for soules seye the psalm of Davit:

Lo, `buf!' they seye, `cor meum eructavit!'

Who folweth Cristes gospel and his foore,

But we that humble been, and chaast, and poore,

Werkeris of Goddes word, nat auditours?

Therfore, right as an hauk up at a sours

Up springeth into th' eir, right so prayeres

1940 Of charitable and chaste bisy freres

Maken hir sours to Goddes eres two.

Thomas, Thomas! So moote I ryde or go,

And by that lord that clepid is Seint Yve,

Nere thou oure brother, sholdestou nat thryve.

In our chapitre praye we day and nyght

To Crist, that he thee sende heele and myght

Thy body for to weelden hastily."

"God woot," quod he, "no thyng therof feele I!

As help me Crist, as I in fewe yeres,

1950 Have spent upon diverse manere freres

Ful many a pound; yet fare I never the bet.

Certeyn, my good have I almoost biset.

Farwel, my gold, for it is al ago!"

The frere answerde, "O Thomas, dostow so?

What nedeth yow diverse freres seche?

What nedeth hym that hath a parfit leche

To sechen othere leches in the toun?

Youre inconstance is youre confusioun.

Holde ye thanne me, or elles oure covent,

1960 To praye for yow been insufficient?

Thomas, that jape nys nat worth a myte.

Youre maladye is for we han to lyte.

A, yif that covent half a quarter otes!

A, yif that covent foure and twenty grotes!

A, yif that frere a peny, and lat hym go!

Nay, nay, Thomas, it may no thyng be so!

What is a ferthyng worth parted in twelve?

Lo, ech thyng that is oned in himselve

Is moore strong than whan it is toscatered.

1970 Thomas, of me thou shalt nat been yflatered;

Thou woldest han oure labour al for noght.

The hye God, that al this world hath wroght,

Seith that the werkman worthy is his hyre.

Thomas, noght of youre tresor I desire

As for myself, but that al oure covent

To preye for yow is ay so diligent,

And for to buylden Cristes owene chirche.

Thomas, if ye wol lernen for to wirche,

Of buyldynge up of chirches may ye fynde

1980 If it be good in Thomas lyf of Inde.

Ye lye heere ful of anger and of ire,

With which the devel set youre herte afyre,

And chiden heere the sely innocent,

Youre wyf, that is so meke and pacient.

And therfore, Thomas, trowe me if thee leste,

Ne stryve nat with thy wyf, as for thy beste;

And ber this word awey now, by thy feith;

Touchynge swich thyng, lo, what the wise seith:

`Withinne thyn hous ne be thou no leon;

1990 To thy subgitz do noon oppression,

Ne make thyne aqueyntances nat to flee.'

And, Thomas, yet eft-soones I charge thee,

Be war from Ire that in thy bosom slepeth;

War fro the serpent that so slily crepeth

Under the gras and styngeth subtilly.

Be war, my sone, and herkne paciently

That twenty thousand men han lost hir lyves

For stryvyng with hir lemmans and hir wyves.

Now sith ye han so hooly meke a wyf,

2000 What nedeth yow, Thomas, to maken stryf?

Ther nys, ywys, no serpent so cruel,

Whan man tret on his tayl, ne half so fel,

As womman is, whan she hath caught an ire;

Vengeance is thanne al that they desire.

Ire is a synne, oon of the grete of sevene,

Abhomynable unto the God of hevene;

And to hymself it is destruccion.

This every lewed viker or person

Kan seye, how ire engendreth homycide.

2010 Ire is, in sooth, executour of pryde.

I koude of ire seye so muche sorwe,

My tale sholde laste til to-morwe.

And therfore preye I God bothe day and nyght

An irous man, God sende hym litel myght!

It is greet harm and certes greet pitee

To sette an irous man in heigh degree.

"Whilom ther was an irous potestat,

As seith Senek, that, durynge his estaat,

Upon a day out ryden knyghtes two,

2020 And as Fortune wolde that it were so,

That oon of hem cam hoom, that oother noght.

Anon the knyght bifore the juge is broght,

That seyde thus, `Thou hast thy felawe slayn,

For which I deme thee to the deeth, certayn.'

And to another knyght comanded he,

`Go lede hym to the deeth, I charge thee.'

And happed, as they wente by the weye

Toward the place ther he sholde deye,

The knyght cam which men wenden had be deed.

2030 Thanne thoughte they it were the beste reed

To lede hem bothe to the juge agayn.

They seiden, `Lord, the knyght ne hath nat slayn

His felawe; heere he standeth hool alyve.'

`Ye shul be deed,' quod he, `so moot I thryve!

That is to seyn, bothe oon, and two, and thre!'

And to the firste knyght right thus spak he,

`I dampned thee; thou most algate be deed.

And thou also most nedes lese thyn heed,

For thou art cause why thy felawe deyth.'

2040 And to the thridde knyght right thus he seith,

`Thou hast nat doon that I comanded thee.'

And thus he dide doon sleen hem alle thre.

"Irous Cambises was eek dronkelewe,

And ay delited hym to been a shrewe.

And so bifel, a lord of his meynee

That loved vertuous moralitee

Seyde on a day bitwix hem two right thus:

"`A lord is lost, if he be vicius;

And dronkenesse is eek a foul record

2050 Of any man, and namely in a lord.

Ther is ful many an eye and many an ere

Awaityng on a lord, and he noot where.

For Goddes love, drynk moore attemprely!

Wyn maketh man to lesen wrecchedly

His mynde and eek his lymes everichon.'

"`The revers shaltou se,' quod he, `anon,

And preve it by thyn owene experience,

That wyn ne dooth to folk no swich offence.

Ther is no wyn bireveth me my myght

2060 Of hand ne foot, ne of myne eyen sight.'

And for despit he drank ful muchel moore,

An hondred part, than he hadde don bifoore;

And right anon this irous, cursed wrecche

Leet this knyghtes sone bifore hym fecche,

Comandynge hym he sholde bifore hym stonde.

And sodeynly he took his bowe in honde,

And up the streng he pulled to his ere,

And with an arwe he slow the child right there.

`Now wheither have I a siker hand or noon?'

2070 Quod he; `Is al my myght and mynde agon?

Hath wyn bireved me myn eyen sight?'

What sholde I telle th' answere of the knyght?

His sone was slayn; ther is namoore to seye.

Beth war, therfore, with lordes how ye pleye.

Syngeth Placebo and `I shal, if I kan,'

But if it be unto a povre man.

To a povre man men sholde his vices telle,

But nat to a lord, thogh he sholde go to helle.

"Lo irous Cirus, thilke Percien,

2080 How he destroyed the ryver of Gysen,

For that an hors of his was dreynt therinne,

Whan that he wente Babiloigne to wynne.

He made that the ryver was so smal

That wommen myghte wade it over al.

Lo, what seyde he that so wel teche kan?

`Ne be no felawe to an irous man,

Ne with no wood man walke by the weye,

Lest thee repente;' I wol no ferther seye.

"Now, Thomas, leeve brother, lef thyn ire;

2090 Thou shalt me fynde as just as is a squyre.

Hoold nat the develes knyf ay at thyn herte --

Thyn angre dooth thee al to soore smerte --

But shewe to me al thy confessioun."

"Nay," quod the sike man, "by Seint Symoun!

I have be shryven this day at my curat.

I have hym toold hoolly al myn estat;

Nedeth namoore to speken of it," seith he,

"But if me list, of myn humylitee."

"Yif me thanne of thy gold, to make oure cloystre,"

2100 Quod he, "for many a muscle and many an oystre,

Whan othere men han ben ful wel at eyse,

Hath been oure foode, our cloystre for to reyse.

And yet, God woot, unnethe the fundement

Parfourned is, ne of our pavement

Nys nat a tyle yet withinne oure wones.

By God, we owen fourty pound for stones.

"Now help, Thomas, for hym that harwed helle!

For elles moste we oure bookes selle.

And if yow lakke oure predicacioun,

2110 Thanne goth the world al to destruccioun.

For whoso wolde us fro this world bireve,

So God me save, Thomas, by youre leve,

He wolde bireve out of this world the sonne.

For who kan teche and werchen as we konne?

And that is nat of litel tyme," quod he,

"But syn Elye was, or Elise,

Han freres been -- that fynde I of record --

In charitee, ythanked be oure Lord!

Now Thomas, help, for seinte charitee!"

2120 And doun anon he sette hym on his knee.

This sike man wax wel ny wood for ire;

He wolde that the frere had been on-fire

With his false dissymulacioun.

"Swich thyng as is in my possessioun,"

Quod he, "that may I yeve, and noon oother.

Ye sey me thus, how that I am youre brother?"

"Ye, certes," quod the frere, "trusteth weel.

I took oure dame oure lettre with oure seel."

"Now wel," quod he, "and somwhat shal I yive

2130 Unto youre hooly covent whil I lyve;

And in thyn hand thou shalt it have anon,

On this condicion, and oother noon,

That thou departe it so, my deere brother,

That every frere have also muche as oother.

This shaltou swere on thy professioun,

Withouten fraude or cavillacioun."

"I swere it," quod this frere, "by my feith!"

And therwithal his hand in his he leith,

"Lo, heer my feith; in me shal be no lak."

2140 "Now thanne, put in thyn hand doun by my bak,"

Seyde this man, "and grope wel bihynde.

Bynethe my buttok there shaltow fynde

A thyng that I have hyd in pryvetee."

"A!" thoghte this frere, "That shal go with me!"

And doun his hand he launcheth to the clifte

In hope for to fynde there a yifte.

And whan this sike man felte this frere

Aboute his tuwel grope there and heere,

Amydde his hand he leet the frere a fart;

2150 Ther nys no capul, drawynge in a cart,

That myghte have lete a fart of swich a soun.

The frere up stirte as dooth a wood leoun --

"A, false cherl," quod he, "for Goddes bones!

This hastow for despit doon for the nones.

Thou shalt abye this fart, if that I may!"

His meynee, whiche that herden this affray,

Cam lepynge in and chaced out the frere;

And forth he gooth, with a ful angry cheere,

And fette his felawe, ther as lay his stoor.

2160 He looked as it were a wilde boor;

He grynte with his teeth, so was he wrooth.

A sturdy paas doun to the court he gooth,

Wher as ther woned a man of greet honour,

To whom that he was alwey confessour.

This worthy man was lord of that village.

This frere cam as he were in a rage,

Where as this lord sat etyng at his bord;

Unnethes myghte the frere speke a word,

Til atte laste he seyde, "God yow see!"

2170 This lord gan looke, and seide, "Benedicitee!

What, frere John, what maner world is this?

I se wel that som thyng ther is amys;

Ye looken as the wode were ful of thevys.

Sit doun anon, and tel me what youre grief is,

And it shal been amended, if I may."

"I have," quod he, "had a despit this day,

God yelde yow, adoun in youre village,

That in this world is noon so povre a page

That he nolde have abhomynacioun

2180 Of that I have receyved in youre toun.

And yet ne greveth me nothyng so soore,

As that this olde cherl with lokkes hoore

Blasphemed hath oure hooly covent eke."

"Now, maister," quod this lord, "I yow biseke --"

"No maister, sire," quod he, "but servitour,

Thogh I have had in scole that honour.

God liketh nat that `Raby' men us calle,

Neither in market ne in youre large halle."

"No fors," quod he, "but tel me al youre grief."

2190 "Sire," quod this frere, "an odious meschief

This day bityd is to myn ordre and me,

And so, per consequens, to ech degree

Of hooly chirche -- God amende it soone!"

"Sire," quod the lord, "ye woot what is to doone.

Distempre yow noght; ye be my confessour;

Ye been the salt of the erthe and the savour.

For Goddes love, youre pacience ye holde!

Tel me youre grief." And he anon hym tolde,

As ye han herd biforn -- ye woot wel what.

2200 The lady of the hous ay stille sat

Til she had herd what the frere sayde.

"Ey, Goddes mooder," quod she, "Blisful mayde!

Is ther oght elles? Telle me feithfully."

"Madame," quod he, "how thynke ye herby?"

"How that me thynketh?" quod she. "So God me speede,

I seye a cherl hath doon a cherles dede.

What shold I seye? God lat hym nevere thee!

His sike heed is ful of vanytee;

I holde hym in a manere frenesye."

2210 "Madame," quod he, "by God, I shal nat lye,

But I on oother wyse may be wreke,

I shal disclaundre hym over al ther I speke,

This false blasphemour that charged me

To parte that wol nat departed be

To every man yliche, with meschaunce!"

The lord sat stille as he were in a traunce,

And in his herte he rolled up and doun,

"How hadde this cherl ymaginacioun

To shewe swich a probleme to the frere?

2220 Nevere erst er now herde I of swich mateere.

I trowe the devel putte it in his mynde.

In ars-metrike shal ther no man fynde,

Biforn this day, of swich a question.

Who sholde make a demonstracion

That every man sholde have yliche his part

As of the soun or savour of a fart?

O nyce, proude cherl, I shrewe his face!

Lo, sires," quod the lord, "with harde grace!

Who evere herde of swich a thyng er now?

2230 To every man ylike? Tel me how.

It is an inpossible; it may nat be.

Ey, nyce cherl, God lete him nevere thee!

The rumblynge of a fart, and every soun,

Nis but of eir reverberacioun,

And evere it wasteth litel and litel awey.

Ther is no man kan deemen, by my fey,

If that it were departed equally.

What, lo, my cherl, lo, yet how shrewedly

Unto my confessour to-day he spak!

2240 I holde hym certeyn a demonyak!

Now ete youre mete, and lat the cherl go pleye;

Lat hym go honge hymself a devel weye!"

Now stood the lordes squier at the bord,

That karf his mete, and herde word by word

Of alle thynges whiche I have yow sayd.

"My lord," quod he, "be ye nat yvele apayd,

I koude telle, for a gowne-clooth,

To yow, sire frere, so ye be nat wrooth,

How that this fart sholde evene deled be

2250 Among youre covent, if it lyked me."

"Tel," quod the lord, "and thou shalt have anon

A gowne-clooth, by God and by Seint John!"

"My lord," quod he, "whan that the weder is fair,

Withouten wynd or perturbynge of air,

Lat brynge a cartwheel heere into this halle;

But looke that it have his spokes alle --

Twelve spokes hath a cartwheel comunly.

And bryng me thanne twelve freres. Woot ye why?

For thrittene is a covent, as I gesse.

2260 Youre confessour heere, for his worthynesse,

Shal parfourne up the nombre of his covent.

Thanne shal they knele doun, by oon assent,

And to every spokes ende, in this manere,

Ful sadly leye his nose shal a frere.

Youre noble confessour -- there God hym save! --

Shal holde his nose upright under the nave.

Thanne shal this cherl, with bely stif and toght

As any tabour, hyder been ybroght;

And sette hym on the wheel right of this cart,

2270 Upon the nave, and make hym lete a fart.

And ye shul seen, up peril of my lyf,

By preeve which that is demonstratif,

That equally the soun of it wol wende,

And eke the stynk, unto the spokes ende,

Save that this worthy man, youre confessour,

By cause he is a man of greet honour,

Shal have the firste fruyt, as resoun is.

The noble usage of freres yet is this,

The worthy men of hem shul first be served;

2280 And certeinly he hath it weel disserved.

He hath to-day taught us so muche good

With prechyng in the pulpit ther he stood,

That I may vouche sauf, I sey for me,

He hadde the firste smel of fartes thre;

And so wolde al his covent hardily,

He bereth hym so faire and hoolily."

The lord, the lady, and ech man, save the frere,

Seyde that Jankyn spak, in this matere,

As wel as Euclide [dide] or Ptholomee.

2290 Touchynge the cherl, they seyde, subtiltee

And heigh wit made hym speken as he spak;

He nys no fool, ne no demonyak.

And Jankyn hath ywonne a newe gowne --

My tale is doon; we been almoost at towne.

THE CLERK'S PROLOGUE

"Sire Clerk of Oxenford," oure Hooste sayde,

"Ye ryde as coy and stille as dooth a mayde

Were newe spoused, sittynge at the bord;

This day ne herde I of youre tonge a word.

I trowe ye studie aboute som sophyme;

But Salomon seith `every thyng hath tyme.'

"For Goddes sake, as beth of bettre cheere!

It is no tyme for to studien heere.

Telle us som myrie tale, by youre fey!

10 For what man that is entred in a pley,

He nedes moot unto the pley assente.

But precheth nat, as freres doon in Lente,

To make us for oure olde synnes wepe,

Ne that thy tale make us nat to slepe.

"Telle us som murie thyng of aventures.

Youre termes, youre colours, and youre figures,

Keepe hem in stoor til so be ye endite

Heigh style, as whan that men to kynges write.

Speketh so pleyn at this tyme, we yow preye,

20 That we may understonde what ye seye."

This worthy clerk benignely answerde:

"Hooste," quod he, "I am under youre yerde;

Ye han of us as now the governance,

And therfore wol I do yow obeisance,

As fer as resoun axeth, hardily.

I wol yow telle a tale which that I

Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk,

As preved by his wordes and his werk.

He is now deed and nayled in his cheste;

30 I prey to God so yeve his soule reste!

"Fraunceys Petrak, the lauriat poete,

Highte this clerk, whos rethorike sweete

Enlumyned al Ytaille of poetrie,

As Lynyan dide of philosophie,

Or lawe, or oother art particuler;

But Deeth, that wol nat suffre us dwellen heer,

But as it were a twynklyng of an ye,

Hem bothe hath slayn, and alle shul we dye.

"But forth to tellen of this worthy man

40 That taughte me this tale, as I bigan,

I seye that first with heigh stile he enditeth,

Er he the body of his tale writeth,

A prohemye, in the which discryveth he

Pemond and of Saluces the contree,

And speketh of Apennyn, the hilles hye,

That been the boundes of West Lumbardye,

And of Mount Vesulus in special,

Where as the Poo out of a welle smal

Taketh his firste spryngyng and his sours,

50 That estward ay encresseth in his cours

To Emele-ward, to Ferrare, and Venyse,

The which a long thyng were to devyse.

And trewely, as to my juggement,

Me thynketh it a thyng impertinent,

Save that he wole conveyen his mateere;

But this his tale, which that ye may heere."

THE CLERK'S TALE

Ther is, at the west syde of Ytaille,

Doun at the roote of Vesulus the colde,

A lusty playn, habundant of vitaille,

60 Where many a tour and toun thou mayst biholde,

That founded were in tyme of fadres olde,

And many another delitable sighte,

And Saluces this noble contree highte.

A markys whilom lord was of that lond,

As were his worthy eldres hym bifore;

And obeisant, ay redy to his hond,

Were alle his liges, bothe lasse and moore.

Thus in delit he lyveth, and hath doon yoore,

Biloved and drad, thurgh favour of Fortune,

70 Bothe of his lordes and of his commune.

Therwith he was, to speke as of lynage,

The gentilleste yborn of Lumbardye,

A fair persone, and strong, and yong of age,

And ful of honour and of curteisye;

Discreet ynogh his contree for to gye,

Save in somme thynges that he was to blame;

And Walter was this yonge lordes name.

I blame hym thus: that he considered noght

In tyme comynge what myghte hym bityde,

80 But on his lust present was al his thoght,

As for to hauke and hunte on every syde.

Wel ny alle othere cures leet he slyde,

And eek he nolde -- and that was worst of alle --

Wedde no wyf, for noght that may bifalle.

Oonly that point his peple bar so soore

That flokmeele on a day they to hym wente,

And oon of hem, that wisest was of loore --

Or elles that the lord best wolde assente

That he sholde telle hym what his peple mente,

90 Or elles koude he shewe wel swich mateere --

He to the markys seyde as ye shul heere:

"O noble markys, youre humanitee

Asseureth us and yeveth us hardinesse,

As ofte as tyme is of necessitee,

That we to yow mowe telle oure hevynesse.

Accepteth, lord, now of youre gentillesse

That we with pitous herte unto yow pleyne,

And lat youre eres nat my voys desdeyne.

"Al have I noght to doone in this mateere

100 Moore than another man hath in this place,

Yet for as muche as ye, my lord so deere,

Han alwey shewed me favour and grace

I dar the bettre aske of yow a space

Of audience to shewen oure requeste,

And ye, my lord, to doon right as yow leste.

"For certes, lord, so wel us liketh yow

And al youre werk, and evere han doon, that we

Ne koude nat us self devysen how

We myghte lyven in moore felicitee,

110 Save o thyng, lord, if it youre wille be,

That for to been a wedded man yow leste;

Thanne were youre peple in sovereyn hertes reste.

"Boweth youre nekke under that blisful yok

Of soveraynetee, noght of servyse,

Which that men clepe spousaille or wedlok;

And thenketh, lord, among youre thoghtes wyse

How that oure dayes passe in sondry wyse,

For thogh we slepe, or wake, or rome, or ryde,

Ay fleeth the tyme; it nyl no man abyde.

120 "And thogh youre grene youthe floure as yit,

In crepeth age alwey, as stille as stoon,

And deeth manaceth every age, and smyt

In ech estaat, for ther escapeth noon;

And al so certein as we knowe echoon

That we shul deye, as uncerteyn we alle

Been of that day whan deeth shal on us falle.

"Accepteth thanne of us the trewe entente,

That nevere yet refuseden youre heeste,

And we wol, lord, if that ye wole assente,

130 Chese yow a wyf, in short tyme atte leeste,

Born of the gentilleste and of the meeste

Of al this land, so that it oghte seme

Honour to God and yow, as we kan deeme.

"Delivere us out of al this bisy drede,

And taak a wyf, for hye Goddes sake!

For if it so bifelle, as God forbede,

That thurgh youre deeth youre lyne sholde slake,

And that a straunge successour sholde take

Youre heritage, O wo were us alyve!

140 Wherfore we pray you hastily to wyve."

Hir meeke preyere and hir pitous cheere

Made the markys herte han pitee.

"Ye wol," quod he, "myn owene peple deere,

To that I nevere erst thoughte streyne me.

I me rejoysed of my liberte,

That seelde tyme is founde in mariage;

Ther I was free, I moot been in servage.

"But nathelees I se youre trewe entente,

And truste upon youre wit, and have doon ay;

150 Wherfore of my free wyl I wole assente

To wedde me, as soone as evere I may.

But ther as ye han profred me to-day

To chese me a wyf, I yow relesse

That choys and prey yow of that profre cesse.

"For God it woot, that children ofte been

Unlyk hir worthy eldres hem bifore;

Bountee comth al of God, nat of the streen

Of which they been engendred and ybore.

I truste in Goddes bountee, and therfore

160 My mariage and myn estaat and reste

I hym bitake; he may doon as hym leste.

"Lat me allone in chesynge of my wyf --

That charge upon my bak I wole endure.

But I yow preye, and charge upon youre lyf,

What wyf that I take, ye me assure

To worshipe hire, whil that hir lyf may dure,

In word and werk, bothe heere and everywheere,

As she an emperoures doghter weere.

"And forthermoore, this shal ye swere: that ye

170 Agayn my choys shul neither grucche ne stryve;

For sith I shal forgoon my libertee

At youre requeste, as evere moot I thryve,

Ther as myn herte is set, ther wol I wyve;

And but ye wole assente in swich manere,

I prey yow, speketh namoore of this matere."

With hertely wyl they sworen and assenten

To al this thyng -- ther seyde no wight nay --

Bisekynge hym of grace, er that they wenten,

That he wolde graunten hem a certein day

180 Of his spousaille, as soone as evere he may;

For yet alwey the peple somwhat dredde,

Lest that the markys no wyf wolde wedde.

He graunted hem a day, swich as hym leste,

On which he wolde be wedded sikerly,

And seyde he dide al this at hir requeste.

And they, with humble entente, buxomly,

Knelynge upon hir knees ful reverently,

Hym thonken alle; and thus they han an ende

Of hire entente, and hoom agayn they wende.

190 And heerupon he to his officeres

Comaundeth for the feste to purveye,

And to his privee knyghtes and squieres

Swich charge yaf as hym liste on hem leye;

And they to his comandement obeye,

And ech of hem dooth al his diligence

To doon unto the feeste reverence.

Noght fer fro thilke paleys honurable,

Wher as this markys shoop his mariage,

There stood a throop, of site delitable,

200 In which that povre folk of that village

Hadden hir beestes and hir herbergage,

And of hire labour tooke hir sustenance,

After that the erthe yaf hem habundance.

Amonges thise povre folk ther dwelte a man

Which that was holden povrest of hem alle;

But hye God somtyme senden kan

His grace into a litel oxes stalle;

Janicula men of that throop hym calle.

A doghter hadde he, fair ynogh to sighte,

210 And Grisildis this yonge mayden highte.

But for to speke of vertuous beautee,

Thanne was she oon the faireste under sonne;

For povreliche yfostred up was she,

No likerous lust was thurgh hire herte yronne.

Wel ofter of the welle than of the tonne

She drank, and for she wolde vertu plese,

She knew wel labour but noon ydel ese.

But thogh this mayde tendre were of age,

Yet in the brest of hire virginitee

220 Ther was enclosed rype and sad corage;

And in greet reverence and charitee

Hir olde povre fader fostred shee.

A fewe sheep, spynnynge, on feeld she kepte;

She wolde noght been ydel til she slepte.

And whan she homward cam, she wolde brynge

Wortes or othere herbes tymes ofte,

The whiche she shredde and seeth for hir lyvynge,

And made hir bed ful hard and nothyng softe;

And ay she kepte hir fadres lyf on-lofte

230 With everich obeisaunce and diligence

That child may doon to fadres reverence.

Upon Grisilde, this povre creature,

Ful ofte sithe this markys sette his ye

As he on huntyng rood paraventure;

And whan it fil that he myghte hire espye,

He noght with wantown lookyng of folye

His eyen caste on hire, but in sad wyse

Upon hir chiere he wolde hym ofte avyse,

Commendynge in his herte hir wommanhede,

240 And eek hir vertu, passynge any wight

Of so yong age, as wel in chiere as dede.

For thogh the peple have no greet insight

In vertu, he considered ful right

Hir bountee, and disposed that he wolde

Wedde hire oonly, if evere he wedde sholde.

The day of weddyng cam, but no wight kan

Telle what womman that it sholde be;

For which merveille wondred many a man,

And seyden, whan they were in privetee,

250 "Wol nat oure lord yet leve his vanytee?

Wol he nat wedde? Allas! Allas, the while!

Why wole he thus hymself and us bigile?"

But nathelees this markys hath doon make

Of gemmes, set in gold and in asure,

Brooches and rynges, for Grisildis sake;

And of hir clothyng took he the mesure

By a mayde lyk to hire stature,

And eek of othere aornementes alle

That unto swich a weddyng sholde falle.

260 The time of undren of the same day

Approcheth, that this weddyng sholde be,

And al the paleys put was in array,

Bothe halle and chambres, ech in his degree;

Houses of office stuffed with plentee

Ther maystow seen, of deyntevous vitaille

That may be founde as fer as last Ytaille.

This roial markys, richely arrayed,

Lordes and ladyes in his compaignye,

The whiche that to the feeste weren yprayed,

270 And of his retenue the bachelrye,

With many a soun of sondry melodye,

Unto the village of the which I tolde

In this array the righte wey han holde.

Grisilde of this, God woot, ful innocent,

That for hire shapen was al this array,

To fecchen water at a welle is went,

And cometh hoom as soone as ever she may;

For wel she hadde herd seyd that thilke day

The markys sholde wedde, and if she myghte,

280 She wolde fayn han seyn som of that sighte.

She thoghte, "I wole with othere maydens stonde,

That been my felawes, in oure dore and se

The markysesse, and therfore wol I fonde

To doon at hoom, as soone as it may be,

The labour which that longeth unto me,

And thanne I may at leyser hire biholde,

If she this wey unto the castel holde."

And as she wolde over hir thresshfold gon,

The markys cam and gan hire for to calle;

290 And she set doun hir water pot anon,

Biside the thresshfold, in an oxes stalle,

And doun upon hir knes she gan to falle,

And with sad contenance kneleth stille,

Til she had herd what was the lordes wille.

This thoghtful markys spak unto this mayde

Ful sobrely, and seyde in this manere:

"Where is youre fader, O Grisildis?" he sayde.

And she with reverence, in humble cheere,

Answerde, "Lord, he is al redy heere."

300 And in she gooth withouten lenger lette,

And to the markys she hir fader fette.

He by the hand thanne took this olde man,

And seyde thus, whan he hym hadde asyde:

"Janicula, I neither may ne kan

Lenger the plesance of myn herte hyde.

If that thou vouche sauf, what so bityde,

Thy doghter wol I take, er that I wende,

As for my wyf, unto hir lyves ende.

"Thou lovest me, I woot it wel certeyn,

310 And art my feithful lige man ybore,

And al that liketh me, I dar wel seyn

It liketh thee, and specially therfore

Tel me that poynt that I have seyd bifore,

If that thou wolt unto that purpos drawe,

To take me as for thy sone-in-lawe."

This sodeyn cas this man astonyed so

That reed he wax; abayst and al quakynge

He stood; unnethes seyde he wordes mo,

But oonly thus: "Lord," quod he, "my willynge

320 Is as ye wole, ne ayeynes youre likynge

I wol no thyng, ye be my lord so deere;

Right as yow lust, governeth this mateere."

"Yet wol I," quod this markys softely,

"That in thy chambre I and thou and she

Have a collacioun, and wostow why?

For I wol axe if it hire wille be

To be my wyf and reule hire after me.

And al this shal be doon in thy presence;

I wol noght speke out of thyn audience."

330 And in the chambre, whil they were aboute

Hir tretys, which as ye shal after heere,

The peple cam unto the hous withoute,

And wondred hem in how honest manere

And tentifly she kepte hir fader deere.

But outrely Grisildis wondre myghte,

For nevere erst ne saugh she swich a sighte.

No wonder is thogh that she were astoned

To seen so greet a gest come in that place;

She nevere was to swiche gestes woned,

340 For which she looked with ful pale face.

But shortly forth this matere for to chace,

Thise arn the wordes that the markys sayde

To this benigne, verray, feithful mayde:

"Grisilde," he seyde, "ye shal wel understonde

It liketh to youre fader and to me

That I yow wedde, and eek it may so stonde,

As I suppose, ye wol that it so be.

But thise demandes axe I first," quod he,

"That, sith it shal be doon in hastif wyse,

350 Wol ye assente, or elles yow avyse?

"I seye this: be ye redy with good herte

To al my lust, and that I frely may,

As me best thynketh, do yow laughe or smerte,

And nevere ye to grucche it, nyght ne day?

And eek whan I sey `ye,' ne sey nat `nay,'

Neither by word ne frownyng contenance?

Swere this, and heere I swere oure alliance."

Wondrynge upon this word, quakynge for drede,

She seyde, "Lord, undigne and unworthy

360 Am I to thilke honour that ye me beede,

But as ye wole youreself, right so wol I.

And heere I swere that nevere willyngly,

In werk ne thoght, I nyl yow disobeye,

For to be deed, though me were looth to deye."

"This is ynogh, Grisilde myn," quod he.

And forth he gooth with a ful sobre cheere

Out at the dore, and after that cam she,

And to the peple he seyde in this manere:

"This is my wyf," quod he, "that standeth heere.

370 Honoureth hire and loveth hire, I preye,

Whoso me loveth; ther is namoore to seye."

And for that no thyng of hir olde geere

She sholde brynge into his hous, he bad

That wommen sholde dispoillen hire right theere;

Of which thise ladyes were nat right glad

To handle hir clothes, wherinne she was clad.

But nathelees, this mayde bright of hewe

Fro foot to heed they clothed han al newe.

Hir heris han they kembd, that lay untressed

380 Ful rudely, and with hir fyngres smale

A corone on hire heed they han ydressed,

And sette hire ful of nowches grete and smale.

Of hire array what sholde I make a tale?

Unnethe the peple hir knew for hire fairnesse

Whan she translated was in swich richesse.

This markys hath hire spoused with a ryng

Broght for the same cause, and thanne hire sette

Upon an hors, snow-whit and wel amblyng,

And to his paleys, er he lenger lette,

390 With joyful peple that hire ladde and mette,

Conveyed hire; and thus the day they spende

In revel, til the sonne gan descende.

And shortly forth this tale for to chace,

I seye that to this newe markysesse

God hath swich favour sent hire of his grace

That it ne semed nat by liklynesse

That she was born and fed in rudenesse,

As in a cote or in an oxe-stalle,

But norissed in an emperoures halle.

400 To every wight she woxen is so deere

And worshipful that folk ther she was bore,

And from hire birthe knewe hire yeer by yeere,

Unnethe trowed they -- but dorste han swore --

That to Janicle, of which I spak bifore,

She doghter were, for, as by conjecture,

Hem thoughte she was another creature.

For though that evere vertuous was she,

She was encressed in swich excellence

Of thewes goode, yset in heigh bountee,

410 And so discreet and fair of eloquence,

So benigne and so digne of reverence,

And koude so the peples herte embrace,

That ech hire lovede that looked on hir face.

Noght oonly of Saluces in the toun

Publiced was the bountee of hir name,

But eek biside in many a regioun,

If oon seide wel, another seyde the same;

So spradde of hire heighe bountee the fame

That men and wommen, as wel yonge as olde,

420 Goon to Saluce upon hire to biholde.

Thus Walter lowely -- nay, but roially --

Wedded with fortunat honestetee,

In Goddes pees lyveth ful esily

At hoom, and outward grace ynogh had he;

And for he saugh that under low degree

Was ofte vertu hid, the peple hym heelde

A prudent man, and that is seyn ful seelde.

Nat oonly this Grisildis thurgh hir wit

Koude al the feet of wyfly hoomlinesse,

430 But eek, whan that the cas required it,

The commune profit koude she redresse.

Ther nas discord, rancour, ne hevynesse

In al that land that she ne koude apese,

And wisely brynge hem alle in reste and ese.

Though that hire housbonde absent were anon,

If gentil men or othere of hire contree

Were wrothe, she wolde bryngen hem aton;

So wise and rype wordes hadde she,

And juggementz of so greet equitee,

440 That she from hevene sent was, as men wende,

Peple to save and every wrong t' amende.

Nat longe tyme after that this Grisild

Was wedded, she a doghter hath ybore,

Al had hire levere have born a knave child;

Glad was this markys and the folk therfore,

For though a mayde child coome al bifore,

She may unto a knave child atteyne

By liklihede, syn she nys nat bareyne.

Ther fil, as it bifalleth tymes mo,

450 Whan that this child had souked but a throwe,

This markys in his herte longeth so

To tempte his wyf, hir sadnesse for to knowe,

That he ne myghte out of his herte throwe

This merveillous desir his wyf t' assaye;

Nedelees, God woot, he thoghte hire for t' affraye.

He hadde assayed hire ynogh bifore,

And foond hire evere good; what neded it

Hire for to tempte, and alwey moore and moore,

Though som men preise it for a subtil wit?

460 But as for me, I seye that yvele it sit

To assaye a wyf whan that it is no nede,

And putten hire in angwyssh and in drede.

For which this markys wroghte in this manere:

He cam allone a-nyght, ther as she lay,

With stierne face and with ful trouble cheere,

And seyde thus: "Grisilde," quod he, "that day

That I yow took out of youre povere array,

And putte yow in estaat of heigh noblesse --

Ye have nat that forgeten, as I gesse?

470 "I seye, Grisilde, this present dignitee,

In which that I have put yow, as I trowe,

Maketh yow nat foryetful for to be

That I yow took in povre estaat ful lowe,

For any wele ye moot youreselven knowe.

Taak heede of every word that y yow seye;

Ther is no wight that hereth it but we tweye.

"Ye woot youreself wel how that ye cam heere

Into this hous, it is nat longe ago;

And though to me that ye be lief and deere,

480 Unto my gentils ye be no thyng so.

They seyn, to hem it is greet shame and wo

For to be subgetz and been in servage

To thee, that born art of a smal village.

"And namely sith thy doghter was ybore

Thise wordes han they spoken, doutelees.

But I desire, as I have doon bifore,

To lyve my lyf with hem in reste and pees.

I may nat in this caas be recchelees;

I moot doon with thy doghter for the beste,

490 Nat as I wolde, but as my peple leste.

"And yet, God woot, this is ful looth to me;

But nathelees withoute youre wityng

I wol nat doon; but this wol I," quod he,

"That ye to me assente as in this thyng.

Shewe now youre pacience in youre werkyng,

That ye me highte and swore in youre village

That day that maked was oure mariage."

Whan she had herd al this, she noght ameved

Neither in word, or chiere, or contenaunce,

500 For, as it semed, she was nat agreved.

She seyde, "Lord, al lyth in youre plesaunce.

My child and I, with hertely obeisaunce,

Been youres al, and ye mowe save or spille

Youre owene thyng; werketh after youre wille.

"Ther may no thyng, God so my soule save,

Liken to yow that may displese me;

Ne I desire no thyng for to have,

Ne drede for to leese, save oonly yee.

This wyl is in myn herte, and ay shal be;

510 No lengthe of tyme or deeth may this deface,

Ne chaunge my corage to another place."

Glad was this markys of hire answeryng,

But yet he feyned as he were nat so;

Al drery was his cheere and his lookyng,

Whan that he sholde out of the chambre go.

Soone after this, a furlong wey or two,

He prively hath toold al his entente

Unto a man, and to his wyf hym sente.

A maner sergeant was this privee man,

520 The which that feithful ofte he founden hadde

In thynges grete, and eek swich folk wel kan

Doon execucioun in thynges badde.

The lord knew wel that he hym loved and dradde;

And whan this sergeant wiste his lordes wille,

Into the chambre he stalked hym ful stille.

"Madame," he seyde, "ye moote foryeve it me,

Though I do thyng to which I am constreyned.

Ye been so wys that ful wel knowe ye

That lordes heestes mowe nat been yfeyned;

530 They mowe wel been biwailled or compleyned,

But men moote nede unto hire lust obeye,

And so wol I; ther is namoore to seye.

"This child I am comanded for to take" --

And spak namoore, but out the child he hente

Despitously, and gan a cheere make

As though he wolde han slayn it er he wente.

Grisildis moot al suffre and al consente,

And as a lamb she sitteth meke and stille,

And leet this crueel sergeant doon his wille.

540 Suspecious was the diffame of this man,

Suspect his face, suspect his word also;

Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan.

Allas! Hir doghter that she loved so,

She wende he wolde han slawen it right tho.

But nathelees she neither weep ne syked,

Conformynge hire to that the markys lyked.

But atte laste to speken she bigan,

And mekely she to the sergeant preyde,

So as he was a worthy gentil man,

550 That she moste kisse hire child er that it deyde.

And in hir barm this litel child she leyde

With ful sad face, and gan the child to blisse,

And lulled it, and after gan it kisse.

And thus she seyde in hire benigne voys,

"Fareweel my child! I shal thee nevere see.

But sith I thee have marked with the croys

Of thilke Fader -- blessed moote he be! --

That for us deyde upon a croys of tree,

Thy soule, litel child, I hym bitake,

560 For this nyght shaltow dyen for my sake."

I trowe that to a norice in this cas

It had been hard this reuthe for to se;

Wel myghte a mooder thanne han cryd "allas!"

But nathelees so sad stidefast was she

That she endured al adversitee,

And to the sergeant mekely she sayde,

"Have heer agayn youre litel yonge mayde.

"Gooth now," quod she, "and dooth my lordes heeste;

But o thyng wol I prey yow of youre grace,

570 That, but my lord forbad yow, atte leeste

Burieth this litel body in som place

That beestes ne no briddes it torace."

But he no word wol to that purpos seye,

But took the child and wente upon his weye.

This sergeant cam unto his lord ageyn,

And of Grisildis wordes and hire cheere

He tolde hym point for point, in short and pleyn,

And hym presenteth with his doghter deere.

Somwhat this lord hadde routhe in his manere,

580 But nathelees his purpos heeld he stille,

As lordes doon, whan they wol han hir wille;

And bad this sergeant that he pryvely

Sholde this child softe wynde and wrappe,

With alle circumstances tendrely,

And carie it in a cofre or in a lappe;

But, upon peyne his heed of for to swappe,

That no man sholde knowe of his entente,

Ne whenne he cam, ne whider that he wente;

But at Boloigne to his suster deere,

590 That thilke tyme of Panik was countesse,

He sholde it take and shewe hire this mateere,

Bisekynge hire to doon hire bisynesse

This child to fostre in alle gentillesse;

And whos child that it was he bad hire hyde

From every wight, for oght that may bityde.

The sergeant gooth, and hath fulfild this thyng;

But to this markys now retourne we.

For now gooth he ful faste ymaginyng

If by his wyves cheere he myghte se,

600 Or by hire word aperceyve, that she

Were chaunged; but he nevere hire koude fynde

But evere in oon ylike sad and kynde.

As glad, as humble, as bisy in servyse,

And eek in love, as she was wont to be,

Was she to hym in every maner wyse;

Ne of hir doghter noght a word spak she.

Noon accident, for noon adversitee,

Was seyn in hire, ne nevere hir doghter name

Ne nempned she, in ernest nor in game.

610 In this estaat ther passed been foure yeer

Er she with childe was, but, as God wolde,

A knave child she bar by this Walter,

Ful gracious and fair for to biholde.

And whan that folk it to his fader tolde,

Nat oonly he but al his contree merye

Was for this child, and God they thanke and herye.

Whan it was two yeer old, and fro the brest

Departed of his norice, on a day

This markys caughte yet another lest

620 To tempte his wyf yet ofter, if he may.

O nedelees was she tempted in assay!

But wedded men ne knowe no mesure,

Whan that they fynde a pacient creature.

"Wyf," quod this markys, "ye han herd er this

My peple sikly berth oure mariage;

And namely sith my sone yboren is,

Now is it worse than evere in al oure age.

The murmur sleeth myn herte and my corage,

For to myne eres comth the voys so smerte

630 That it wel ny destroyed hath myn herte.

"Now sey they thus: `Whan Walter is agon,

Thanne shal the blood of Janicle succede

And been oure lord, for oother have we noon.'

Swiche wordes seith my peple, out of drede.

Wel oughte I of swich murmur taken heede,

For certeinly I drede swich sentence,

Though they nat pleyn speke in myn audience.

"I wolde lyve in pees, if that I myghte;

Wherfore I am disposed outrely,

640 As I his suster servede by nyghte,

Right so thenke I to serve hym pryvely.

This warne I yow, that ye nat sodeynly

Out of youreself for no wo sholde outreye;

Beth pacient, and therof I yow preye."

"I have," quod she, "seyd thus, and evere shal:

I wol no thyng, ne nyl no thyng, certayn,

But as yow list. Naught greveth me at al,

Though that my doughter and my sone be slayn --

At youre comandement, this is to sayn.

650 I have noght had no part of children tweyne

But first siknesse, and after, wo and peyne.

"Ye been oure lord; dooth with youre owene thyng

Right as yow list; axeth no reed at me.

For as I lefte at hoom al my clothyng,

Whan I first cam to yow, right so," quod she,

"Lefte I my wyl and al my libertee,

And took youre clothyng; wherfore I yow preye,

Dooth youre plesaunce; I wol youre lust obeye.

"And certes, if I hadde prescience

660 Youre wyl to knowe, er ye youre lust me tolde,

I wolde it doon withouten necligence;

But now I woot youre lust, and what ye wolde,

Al youre plesance ferme and stable I holde;

For wiste I that my deeth wolde do yow ese,

Right gladly wolde I dyen, yow to plese.

"Deth may noght make no comparisoun

Unto youre love." And whan this markys say

The constance of his wyf, he caste adoun

His eyen two, and wondreth that she may

670 In pacience suffre al this array;

And forth he goth with drery contenance,

But to his herte it was ful greet plesance.

This ugly sergeant, in the same wyse

That he hire doghter caughte, right so he --

Or worse, if men worse kan devyse --

Hath hent hire sone, that ful was of beautee.

And evere in oon so pacient was she

That she no chiere maade of hevynesse,

But kiste hir sone, and after gan it blesse;

680 Save this, she preyede hym that, if he myghte,

Hir litel sone he wolde in erthe grave

His tendre lymes, delicaat to sighte,

Fro foweles and fro beestes for to save.

But she noon answere of hym myghte have.

He wente his wey, as hym no thyng ne roghte,

But to Boloigne he tendrely it broghte.

This markys wondred, evere lenger the moore,

Upon hir pacience, and if that he

Ne hadde soothly knowen therbifoore

690 That parfitly hir children loved she,

He wolde have wend that of som subtiltee,

And of malice, or for crueel corage,

That she hadde suffred this with sad visage.

But wel he knew that next hymself, certayn,

She loved hir children best in every wyse.

But now of wommen wolde I axen fayn

If thise assayes myghte nat suffise?

What koude a sturdy housbonde moore devyse

To preeve hir wyfhod and hir stedefastnesse,

700 And he continuynge evere in sturdinesse?

But ther been folk of swich condicion

That whan they have a certein purpos take,

They kan nat stynte of hire entencion,

But, right as they were bounden to that stake,

They wol nat of that firste purpos slake.

Right so this markys fulliche hath purposed

To tempte his wyf as he was first disposed.

He waiteth if by word or contenance

That she to hym was changed of corage,

710 But nevere koude he fynde variance.

She was ay oon in herte and in visage,

And ay the forther that she was in age,

The moore trewe, if that it were possible,

She was to hym in love, and moore penyble.

For which it semed thus: that of hem two

Ther nas but o wyl, for as Walter leste,

The same lust was hire plesance also.

And, God be thanked, al fil for the beste.

She shewed wel, for no worldly unreste

720 A wyf, as of hirself, nothing ne sholde

Wille in effect, but as hir housbonde wolde.

The sclaundre of Walter ofte and wyde spradde,

That of a crueel herte he wikkedly,

For he a povre womman wedded hadde,

Hath mordred bothe his children prively.

Swich murmur was among hem comunly.

No wonder is, for to the peples ere

Ther cam no word but that they mordred were.

For which, where as his peple therbifore

730 Hadde loved hym wel, the sclaundre of his diffame

Made hem that they hym hatede therfore.

To been a mordrere is an hateful name;

But nathelees, for ernest ne for game,

He of his crueel purpos nolde stente;

To tempte his wyf was set al his entente.

Whan that his doghter twelve yeer was of age,

He to the court of Rome, in subtil wyse

Enformed of his wyl, sente his message,

Comaundynge hem swiche bulles to devyse

740 As to his crueel purpos may suffyse --

How that the pope, as for his peples reste,

Bad hym to wedde another, if hym leste.

I seye, he bad they sholde countrefete

The popes bulles, makynge mencion

That he hath leve his firste wyf to lete,

As by the popes dispensacion,

To stynte rancour and dissencion

Bitwixe his peple and hym; thus seyde the bulle,

The which they han publiced atte fulle.

750 The rude peple, as it no wonder is,

Wenden ful wel that it hadde be right so;

But whan thise tidynges came to Grisildis,

I deeme that hire herte was ful wo.

But she, ylike sad for everemo,

Disposed was, this humble creature,

The adversitee of Fortune al t' endure,

Abidynge evere his lust and his plesance,

To whom that she was yeven herte and al,

As to hire verray worldly suffisance.

760 But shortly if this storie I tellen shal,

This markys writen hath in special

A lettre, in which he sheweth his entente,

And secreely he to Boloigne it sente.

To the Erl of Panyk, which that hadde tho

Wedded his suster, preyde he specially

To bryngen hoom agayn his children two

In honurable estaat al openly.

But o thyng he hym preyede outrely,

That he to no wight, though men wolde enquere,

770 Sholde nat telle whos children that they were,

But seye the mayden sholde ywedded be

Unto the Markys of Saluce anon.

And as this erl was preyed, so dide he;

For at day set he on his wey is goon

Toward Saluce, and lordes many oon

In riche array, this mayden for to gyde,

Hir yonge brother ridynge hire bisyde.

Arrayed was toward hir mariage

This fresshe mayde, ful of gemmes cleere;

780 Hir brother, which that seven yeer was of age,

Arrayed eek ful fressh in his manere.

And thus in greet noblesse and with glad cheere,

Toward Saluces shapynge hir journey,

Fro day to day they ryden in hir wey.

Among al this, after his wikke usage,

This markys, yet his wyf to tempte moore

To the outtreste preeve of hir corage,

Fully to han experience and loore

If that she were as stidefast as bifoore,

790 He on a day in open audience

Ful boistously hath seyd hire this sentence:

"Certes, Grisilde, I hadde ynogh plesance

To han yow to my wyf for youre goodnesse,

As for youre trouthe and for youre obeisance,

Noght for youre lynage, ne for youre richesse;

But now knowe I in verray soothfastnesse

That in greet lordshipe, if I wel avyse,

Ther is greet servitute in sondry wyse.

"I may nat doon as every plowman may.

800 My peple me constreyneth for to take

Another wyf, and crien day by day;

And eek the pope, rancour for to slake,

Consenteth it -- that dar I undertake --

And trewely thus muche I wol yow seye:

My newe wyf is comynge by the weye.

"Be strong of herte, and voyde anon hir place;

And thilke dowere that ye broghten me,

Taak it agayn; I graunte it of my grace.

Retourneth to youre fadres hous," quod he;

810 "No man may alwey han prosperitee.

With evene herte I rede yow t' endure

The strook of Fortune or of aventure."

And she agayn answerde in pacience:

"My lord," quod she, "I woot, and wiste alway,

How that bitwixen youre magnificence

And my poverte no wight kan ne may

Maken comparison; it is no nay.

I ne heeld me nevere digne in no manere

To be youre wyf, no, ne youre chamberere.

820 "And in this hous, ther ye me lady maade --

The heighe God take I for my witnesse,

And also wysly he my soule glaade --

I nevere heeld me lady ne mistresse,

But humble servant to youre worthynesse,

And evere shal, whil that my lyf may dure,

Aboven every worldly creature.

"That ye so longe of youre benignitee

Han holden me in honour and nobleye,

Where as I was noght worthy for to bee,

830 That thonke I God and yow, to whom I preye

Foryelde it yow; ther is namoore to seye.

Unto my fader gladly wol I wende,

And with hym dwelle unto my lyves ende.

"Ther I was fostred of a child ful smal,

Til I be deed my lyf ther wol I lede,

A wydwe clene in body, herte, and al.

For sith I yaf to yow my maydenhede,

And am youre trewe wyf, it is no drede,

God shilde swich a lordes wyf to take

840 Another man to housbonde or to make!

"And of youre newe wyf God of his grace

So graunte yow wele and prosperitee!

For I wol gladly yelden hire my place,

In which that I was blisful wont to bee.

For sith it liketh yow, my lord," quod shee,

"That whilom weren al myn hertes reste,

That I shal goon, I wol goon whan yow leste.

"But ther as ye me profre swich dowaire

As I first broghte, it is wel in my mynde

850 It were my wrecched clothes, nothyng faire,

The whiche to me were hard now for to fynde.

O goode God! How gentil and how kynde

Ye semed by youre speche and youre visage

The day that maked was oure mariage!

"But sooth is seyd -- algate I fynde it trewe,

For in effect it preeved is on me --

Love is noght oold as whan that it is newe.

But certes, lord, for noon adversitee,

To dyen in the cas, it shal nat bee

860 That evere in word or werk I shal repente

That I yow yaf myn herte in hool entente.

"My lord, ye woot that in my fadres place

Ye dide me streepe out of my povre weede,

And richely me cladden, of youre grace.

To yow broghte I noght elles, out of drede,

But feith, and nakednesse, and maydenhede;

And heere agayn your clothyng I restoore,

And eek your weddyng ryng, for everemore.

"The remenant of youre jueles redy be

870 Inwith youre chambre, dar I saufly sayn.

Naked out of my fadres hous," quod she,

"I cam, and naked moot I turne agayn.

Al youre plesance wol I folwen fayn;

But yet I hope it be nat youre entente

That I smoklees out of youre paleys wente.

"Ye koude nat doon so dishonest a thyng,

That thilke wombe in which youre children leye

Sholde biforn the peple, in my walkyng,

Be seyn al bare; wherfore I yow preye,

880 Lat me nat lyk a worm go by the weye.

Remembre yow, myn owene lord so deere,

I was youre wyf, though I unworthy weere.

"Wherfore, in gerdon of my maydenhede,

Which that I broghte, and noght agayn I bere,

As voucheth sauf to yeve me, to my meede,

But swich a smok as I was wont to were,

That I therwith may wrye the wombe of here

That was youre wyf. And heer take I my leeve

Of yow, myn owene lord, lest I yow greve."

890 "The smok," quod he, "that thou hast on thy bak,

Lat it be stille, and bere it forth with thee."

But wel unnethes thilke word he spak,

But wente his wey, for routhe and for pitee.

Biforn the folk hirselven strepeth she,

And in hir smok, with heed and foot al bare,

Toward hir fadre hous forth is she fare.

The folk hire folwe, wepynge in hir weye,

And Fortune ay they cursen as they goon;

But she fro wepyng kepte hire eyen dreye,

900 Ne in this tyme word ne spak she noon.

Hir fader, that this tidynge herde anoon,

Curseth the day and tyme that Nature

Shoop hym to been a lyves creature.

For out of doute this olde poure man

Was evere in suspect of hir mariage;

For evere he demed, sith that it bigan,

That whan the lord fulfild hadde his corage,

Hym wolde thynke it were a disparage

To his estaat so lowe for t' alighte,

910 And voyden hire as soone as ever he myghte.

Agayns his doghter hastily goth he,

For he by noyse of folk knew hire comynge,

And with hire olde coote, as it myghte be

He covered hire, ful sorwefully wepynge.

But on hire body myghte he it nat brynge,

For rude was the clooth, and moore of age

By dayes fele than at hire mariage.

Thus with hire fader for a certeyn space

Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience,

920 That neither by hire wordes ne hire face,

Biforn the folk, ne eek in hire absence,

Ne shewed she that hire was doon offence;

Ne of hire heighe estaat no remembraunce

Ne hadde she, as by hire contenaunce.

No wonder is, for in hire grete estaat

Hire goost was evere in pleyn humylitee;

No tendre mouth, noon herte delicaat,

No pompe, no semblant of roialtee,

But ful of pacient benyngnytee,

930 Discreet and pridelees, ay honurable,

And to hire housbonde evere meke and stable.

Men speke of Job, and moost for his humblesse,

As clerkes, whan hem list, konne wel endite,

Namely of men, but as in soothfastnesse,

Though clerkes preise wommen but a lite,

Ther kan no man in humblesse hym acquite

As womman kan, ne kan been half so trewe

As wommen been, but it be falle of newe.

Fro Boloigne is this Erl of Panyk come,

940 Of which the fame up sprang to moore and lesse,

And to the peples eres, alle and some,

Was kouth eek that a newe markysesse

He with hym broghte, in swich pompe and richesse

That nevere was ther seyn with mannes ye

So noble array in al West Lumbardye.

The markys, which that shoop and knew al this,

Er that this erl was come, sente his message

For thilke sely povre Grisildis;

And she with humble herte and glad visage,

950 Nat with no swollen thoght in hire corage,

Cam at his heste, and on hire knees hire sette,

And reverently and wisely she hym grette.

"Grisilde," quod he, "my wyl is outrely

This mayden, that shal wedded been to me,

Received be to-morwe as roially

As it possible is in myn hous to be,

And eek that every wight in his degree

Have his estaat, in sittyng and servyse

And heigh plesaunce, as I kan best devyse.

960 "I have no wommen suffisaunt, certayn,

The chambres for t' arraye in ordinaunce

After my lust, and therfore wolde I fayn

That thyn were al swich manere governaunce.

Thou knowest eek of old al my plesaunce;

Thogh thyn array be badde and yvel biseye,

Do thou thy devoir at the leeste weye."

"Nat oonly, lord, that I am glad," quod she,

"To doon youre lust, but I desire also

Yow for to serve and plese in my degree

970 Withouten feyntyng, and shal everemo;

Ne nevere, for no wele ne no wo,

Ne shal the goost withinne myn herte stente

To love yow best with al my trewe entente."

And with that word she gan the hous to dighte,

And tables for to sette, and beddes make;

And peyned hire to doon al that she myghte,

Preyynge the chambereres, for Goddes sake,

To hasten hem, and faste swepe and shake;

And she, the mooste servysable of alle,

980 Hath every chambre arrayed and his halle.

Abouten undren gan this erl alighte,

That with hym broghte thise noble children tweye,

For which the peple ran to seen the sighte

Of hire array, so richely biseye;

And thanne at erst amonges hem they seye

That Walter was no fool, thogh that hym leste

To chaunge his wyf, for it was for the beste.

For she is fairer, as they deemen alle,

Than is Grisilde, and moore tendre of age,

990 And fairer fruyt bitwene hem sholde falle,

And moore plesant, for hire heigh lynage.

Hir brother eek so fair was of visage

That hem to seen the peple hath caught plesaunce,

Commendynge now the markys governaunce.

"O stormy peple! Unsad and evere untrewe!

Ay undiscreet and chaungynge as a fane!

Delitynge evere in rumbul that is newe,

For lyk the moone ay wexe ye and wane!

Ay ful of clappyng, deere ynogh a jane!

1000 Youre doom is fals, youre constance yvele preeveth;

A ful greet fool is he that on yow leeveth."

Thus seyden sadde folk in that citee,

Whan that the peple gazed up and doun,

For they were glad, right for the noveltee,

To han a newe lady of hir toun.

Namoore of this make I now mencioun,

But to Grisilde agayn wol I me dresse,

And telle hir constance and hir bisynesse.

Ful bisy was Grisilde in every thyng

1010 That to the feeste was apertinent.

Right noght was she abayst of hire clothyng,

Thogh it were rude and somdeel eek torent;

But with glad cheere to the yate is went

With oother folk to greete the markysesse,

And after that dooth forth hire bisynesse.

With so glad chiere his gestes she receyveth,

And so konnyngly, everich in his degree,

That no defaute no man aperceyveth,

But ay they wondren what she myghte bee

1020 That in so povre array was for to see,

And koude swich honour and reverence,

And worthily they preisen hire prudence.

In al this meene while she ne stente

This mayde and eek hir brother to commende

With al hir herte, in ful benyngne entente,

So wel that no man koude hir pris amende.

But atte laste, whan that thise lordes wende

To sitten doun to mete, he gan to calle

Grisilde, as she was bisy in his halle.

1030 "Grisilde," quod he, as it were in his pley,

"How liketh thee my wyf and hire beautee?"

"Right wel," quod she, "my lord; for, in good fey,

A fairer saugh I nevere noon than she.

I prey to God yeve hire prosperitee;

And so hope I that he wol to yow sende

Plesance ynogh unto youre lyves ende.

"O thyng biseke I yow, and warne also,

That ye ne prikke with no tormentynge

This tendre mayden, as ye han doon mo;

1040 For she is fostred in hire norissynge

Moore tendrely, and, to my supposynge,

She koude nat adversitee endure

As koude a povre fostred creature."

And whan this Walter saugh hire pacience,

Hir glade chiere, and no malice at al,

And he so ofte had doon to hire offence,

And she ay sad and constant as a wal,

Continuynge evere hire innocence overal,

This sturdy markys gan his herte dresse

1050 To rewen upon hire wyfly stedfastnesse.

"This is ynogh, Grisilde myn," quod he;

"Be now namoore agast ne yvele apayed.

I have thy feith and thy benyngnytee,

As wel as evere womman was, assayed,

In greet estaat and povreliche arrayed.

Now knowe I, dere wyf, thy stedfastnesse" --

And hire in armes took and gan hire kesse.

And she for wonder took of it no keep;

She herde nat what thyng he to hire seyde;

1060 She ferde as she had stert out of a sleep,

Til she out of hire mazednesse abreyde.

"Grisilde," quod he, "by God, that for us deyde,

Thou art my wyf, ne noon oother I have,

Ne nevere hadde, as God my soule save!

"This is thy doghter, which thou hast supposed

To be my wyf; that oother feithfully

Shal be myn heir, as I have ay disposed;

Thou bare hym in thy body trewely.

At Boloigne have I kept hem prively;

1070 Taak hem agayn, for now maystow nat seye

That thou hast lorn noon of thy children tweye.

"And folk that ootherweys han seyd of me,

I warne hem wel that I have doon this deede

For no malice, ne for no crueltee,

But for t' assaye in thee thy wommanheede,

And nat to sleen my children -- God forbeede! --

But for to kepe hem pryvely and stille,

Til I thy purpos knewe and al thy wille."

Whan she this herde, aswowne doun she falleth

1080 For pitous joye, and after hire swownynge

She bothe hire yonge children to hire calleth,

And in hire armes, pitously wepynge,

Embraceth hem, and tendrely kissynge

Ful lyk a mooder, with hire salte teeres

She bathed bothe hire visage and hire heeres.

O which a pitous thyng it was to se

Hir swownyng, and hire humble voys to heere!

"Grauntmercy, lord, God thanke it yow," quod she,

"That ye han saved me my children deere!

1090 Now rekke I nevere to been deed right heere;

Sith I stonde in youre love and in youre grace,

No fors of deeth, ne whan my spirit pace!

"O tendre, o deere, o yonge children myne!

Youre woful mooder wende stedfastly

That crueel houndes or som foul vermyne

Hadde eten yow; but God of his mercy

And youre benyngne fader tendrely

Hath doon yow kept" -- and in that same stounde

Al sodeynly she swapte adoun to grounde.

1100 And in hire swough so sadly holdeth she

Hire children two, whan she gan hem t' embrace,

That with greet sleighte and greet difficultee

The children from hire arm they gonne arace.

O many a teere on many a pitous face

Doun ran of hem that stooden hire bisyde;

Unnethe abouten hire myghte they abyde.

Walter hire gladeth and hire sorwe slaketh;

She riseth up, abaysed, from hire traunce,

And every wight hire joye and feeste maketh

1110 Til she hath caught agayn hire contenaunce.

Walter hire dooth so feithfully plesaunce

That it was deyntee for to seen the cheere

Bitwixe hem two, now they been met yfeere.

Thise ladyes, whan that they hir tyme say,

Han taken hire and into chambre gon,

And strepen hire out of hire rude array,

And in a clooth of gold that brighte shoon,

With a coroune of many a riche stoon

Upon hire heed, they into halle hire broghte,

1120 And ther she was honured as hire oghte.

Thus hath this pitous day a blisful ende,

For every man and womman dooth his myght

This day in murthe and revel to dispende

Til on the welkne shoon the sterres lyght.

For moore solempne in every mannes syght

This feste was, and gretter of costage,

Than was the revel of hire mariage.

Ful many a yeer in heigh prosperitee

Lyven thise two in concord and in reste,

1130 And richely his doghter maryed he

Unto a lord, oon of the worthieste

Of al Ytaille; and thanne in pees and reste

His wyves fader in his court he kepeth,

Til that the soule out of his body crepeth.

His sone succedeth in his heritage

In reste and pees, after his fader day,

And fortunat was eek in mariage,

Al putte he nat his wyf in greet assay.

This world is nat so strong, it is no nay,

1140 As it hath been in olde tymes yoore,

And herkneth what this auctour seith therfoore.

This storie is seyd nat for that wyves sholde

Folwen Grisilde as in humylitee,

For it were inportable, though they wolde,

But for that every wight, in his degree,

Sholde be constant in adversitee

As was Grisilde; therfore Petrak writeth

This storie, which with heigh stile he enditeth.

For sith a womman was so pacient

1150 Unto a mortal man, wel moore us oghte

Receyven al in gree that God us sent;

For greet skile is he preeve that he wroghte.

But he ne tempteth no man that he boghte,

As seith Seint Jame, if ye his pistel rede;

He preeveth folk al day, it is no drede,

And suffreth us, as for oure excercise,

With sharpe scourges of adversitee

Ful ofte to be bete in sondry wise;

Nat for to knowe oure wyl, for certes he,

1160 Er we were born, knew al oure freletee;

And for oure beste is al his governaunce.

Lat us thanne lyve in vertuous suffraunce.

But o word, lordynges, herkneth er I go:

It were ful hard to fynde now-a-dayes

In al a toun Grisildis thre or two;

For if that they were put to swiche assayes,

The gold of hem hath now so badde alayes

With bras, that thogh the coyne be fair at ye,

It wolde rather breste a-two than plye.

1170 For which heere, for the Wyves love of Bathe --

Whos lyf and al hire secte God mayntene

In heigh maistrie, and elles were it scathe --

I wol with lusty herte, fressh and grene,

Seyn yow a song to glade yow, I wene;

And lat us stynte of ernestful matere.

Herkneth my song that seith in this manere:

Grisilde is deed, and eek hire pacience,

And bothe atones buryed in Ytaille;

For which I crie in open audience

1180 No wedded man so hardy be t' assaille

His wyves pacience in trust to fynde

Grisildis, for in certein he shal faille.

O noble wyves, ful of heigh prudence,

Lat noon humylitee youre tonge naille,

Ne lat no clerk have cause or diligence

To write of yow a storie of swich mervaille

As of Grisildis pacient and kynde,

Lest Chichevache yow swelwe in hire entraille!

Folweth Ekko, that holdeth no silence,

1190 But evere answereth at the countretaille.

Beth nat bidaffed for youre innocence,

But sharply taak on yow the governaille.

Emprenteth wel this lessoun in youre mynde,

For commune profit sith it may availle.

Ye archewyves, stondeth at defense,

Syn ye be strong as is a greet camaille;

Ne suffreth nat that men yow doon offense.

And sklendre wyves, fieble as in bataille,

Beth egre as is a tygre yond in Ynde;

1200 Ay clappeth as a mille, I yow consaille.

Ne dreed hem nat; doth hem no reverence,

For though thyn housbonde armed be in maille,

The arwes of thy crabbed eloquence

Shal perce his brest and eek his aventaille.

In jalousie I rede eek thou hym bynde,

And thou shalt make hym couche as doth a quaille.

If thou be fair, ther folk been in presence,

Shewe thou thy visage and thyn apparaille;

If thou be foul, be fre of thy dispence;

1210 To gete thee freendes ay do thy travaille;

Be ay of chiere as light as leef on lynde,

And lat hym care, and wepe, and wrynge, and waille!

[This worthy Clerk, whan ended was his tale,

Oure Hooste seyde, and swoor, "By Goddes bones,

Me were levere than a barel ale

My wyf at hoom had herd this legende ones!

This is a gentil tale for the nones,

As to my purpos, wiste ye my wille;

But thyng that wol nat be, lat it be stille."]

THE MERCHANT'S PROLOGUE

"Wepyng and waylyng, care and oother sorwe

I knowe ynogh, on even and a-morwe,"

Quod the Marchant, "and so doon other mo

That wedded been. I trowe that it be so,

For wel I woot it fareth so with me.

I have a wyf, the worste that may be;

For thogh the feend to hire ycoupled were,

1220 She wolde hym overmacche, I dar wel swere.

What sholde I yow reherce in special

Hir hye malice? She is a shrewe at al.

Ther is a long and large difference

Bitwix Grisildis grete pacience

And of my wyf the passyng crueltee.

Were I unbounden, also moot I thee,

I wolde nevere eft comen in the snare.

We wedded men lyven in sorwe and care.

Assaye whoso wole, and he shal fynde

1230 That I seye sooth, by Seint Thomas of Ynde,

As for the moore part -- I sey nat alle.

God shilde that it sholde so bifalle!

"A, goode sire Hoost, I have ywedded bee

Thise monthes two, and moore nat, pardee;

And yet, I trowe, he that al his lyve

Wyflees hath been, though that men wolde him ryve

Unto the herte, ne koude in no manere

Tellen so muchel sorwe as I now heere

Koude tellen of my wyves cursednesse!"

1240 "Now," quod oure Hoost, "Marchaunt, so God yow blesse,

Syn ye so muchel knowen of that art

Ful hertely I pray yow telle us part."

"Gladly," quod he, "but of myn owene soore,

For soory herte, I telle may namoore."

THE MERCHANT'S TALE

Whilom ther was dwellynge in Lumbardye

A worthy knyght, that born was of Pavye,

In which he lyved in greet prosperitee;

And sixty yeer a wyflees man was hee,

And folwed ay his bodily delyt

1250 On wommen, ther as was his appetyt,

As doon thise fooles that been seculeer.

And whan that he was passed sixty yeer,

Were it for hoolynesse or for dotage

I kan nat seye, but swich a greet corage

Hadde this knyght to been a wedded man

That day and nyght he dooth al that he kan

T' espien where he myghte wedded be,

Preyinge oure Lord to graunten him that he

Mighte ones knowe of thilke blisful lyf

1260 That is bitwixe an housbonde and his wyf,

And for to lyve under that hooly boond

With which that first God man and womman bond.

"Noon oother lyf," seyde he, "is worth a bene,

For wedlok is so esy and so clene,

That in this world it is a paradys."

Thus seyde this olde knyght, that was so wys.

And certeinly, as sooth as God is kyng,

To take a wyf it is a glorious thyng,

And namely whan a man is oold and hoor;

1270 Thanne is a wyf the fruyt of his tresor.

Thanne sholde he take a yong wyf and a feir,

On which he myghte engendren hym an heir,

And lede his lyf in joye and in solas,

Where as thise bacheleris synge "allas,"

Whan that they fynden any adversitee

In love, which nys but childyssh vanytee.

And trewely it sit wel to be so,

That bacheleris have often peyne and wo;

On brotel ground they buylde, and brotelnesse

1280 They fynde whan they wene sikernesse.

They lyve but as a bryd or as a beest,

In libertee and under noon arreest,

Ther as a wedded man in his estaat

Lyveth a lyf blisful and ordinaat

Under this yok of mariage ybounde.

Wel may his herte in joy and blisse habounde,

For who kan be so buxom as a wyf?

Who is so trewe, and eek so ententyf

To kepe hym, syk and hool, as is his make?

1290 For wele or wo she wole hym nat forsake;

She nys nat wery hym to love and serve,

Though that he lye bedrede til he sterve.

And yet somme clerkes seyn it nys nat so,

Of whiche he Theofraste is oon of tho.

What force though Theofraste liste lye?

"Ne take no wyf," quod he, "for housbondrye,

As for to spare in houshold thy dispence.

A trewe servant dooth moore diligence

Thy good to kepe than thyn owene wyf,

1300 For she wol clayme half part al hir lyf.

And if thou be syk, so God me save,

Thy verray freendes, or a trewe knave,

Wol kepe thee bet than she that waiteth ay

After thy good and hath doon many a day.

And if thou take a wyf unto thyn hoold

Ful lightly maystow been a cokewold."

This sentence, and an hundred thynges worse,

Writeth this man, ther God his bones corse!

But take no kep of al swich vanytee;

1310 Deffie Theofraste, and herke me.

A wyf is Goddes yifte verraily;

Alle othere manere yiftes hardily,

As londes, rentes, pasture, or commune,

Or moebles -- alle been yiftes of Fortune

That passen as a shadwe upon a wal.

But drede nat, if pleynly speke I shal:

A wyf wol laste, and in thyn hous endure,

Wel lenger than thee list, paraventure.

Mariage is a ful greet sacrement.

1320 He which that hath no wyf, I holde hym shent;

He lyveth helplees and al desolat --

I speke of folk in seculer estaat.

And herke why -- I sey nat this for noght --

That womman is for mannes helpe ywroght.

The hye God, whan he hadde Adam maked,

And saugh him al allone, bely-naked,

God of his grete goodnesse seyde than,

"Lat us now make an helpe unto this man

Lyk to hymself"; and thanne he made him Eve.

1330 Heere may ye se, and heerby may ye preve,

That wyf is mannes helpe and his confort,

His paradys terrestre, and his disport.

So buxom and so vertuous is she,

They moste nedes lyve in unitee.

O flessh they been, and o fleesh, as I gesse,

Hath but oon herte, in wele and in distresse.

A wyf! a, Seinte Marie, benedicite!

How myghte a man han any adversitee

That hath a wyf? Certes, I kan nat seye.

1340 The blisse which that is bitwixe hem tweye

Ther may no tonge telle, or herte thynke.

If he be povre, she helpeth hym to swynke;

She kepeth his good, and wasteth never a deel;

Al that hire housbonde lust, hire liketh weel;

She seith nat ones "nay," whan he seith "ye."

"Do this," seith he; "Al redy, sire," seith she.

O blisful ordre of wedlok precious,

Thou art so murye, and eek so vertuous,

And so commended and appreved eek

1350 That every man that halt hym worth a leek

Upon his bare knees oughte al his lyf

Thanken his God that hym hath sent a wyf,

Or elles preye to God hym for to sende

A wyf to laste unto his lyves ende.

For thanne his lyf is set in sikernesse;

He may nat be deceyved, as I gesse,

So that he werke after his wyves reed.

Thanne may he boldely beren up his heed,

They been so trewe and therwithal so wyse;

1360 For which, if thou wolt werken as the wyse,

Do alwey so as wommen wol thee rede.

Lo, how that Jacob, as thise clerkes rede,

By good conseil of his mooder Rebekke,

Boond the kydes skyn aboute his nekke,

For which his fadres benyson he wan.

Lo Judith, as the storie eek telle kan,

By wys conseil she Goddes peple kepte,

And slow hym Olofernus, whil he slepte.

Lo Abigayl, by good conseil how she

1370 Saved hir housbonde Nabal whan that he

Sholde han be slayn; and looke, Ester also

By good conseil delyvered out of wo

The peple of God, and made hym Mardochee

Of Assuere enhaunced for to be.

Ther nys no thyng in gree superlatyf,

As seith Senek, above an humble wyf.

Suffre thy wyves tonge, as Catoun bit;

She shal comande, and thou shalt suffren it,

And yet she wole obeye of curteisye.

1380 A wyf is kepere of thyn housbondrye;

Wel may the sike man biwaille and wepe,

Ther as ther nys no wyf the hous to kepe.

I warne thee, if wisely thou wolt wirche,

Love wel thy wyf, as Crist loved his chirche.

If thou lovest thyself, thou lovest thy wyf;

No man hateth his flessh, but in his lyf

He fostreth it, and therfore bidde I thee

Cherisse thy wyf, or thou shalt nevere thee.

Housbonde and wyf, what so men jape or pleye,

1390 Of worldly folk holden the siker weye;

They been so knyt ther may noon harm bityde,

And namely upon the wyves syde.

For which this Januarie, of whom I tolde,

Considered hath, inwith his dayes olde,

The lusty lyf, the vertuous quyete,

That is in mariage hony-sweete,

And for his freendes on a day he sente,

To tellen hem th' effect of his entente.

With face sad his tale he hath hem toold.

1400 He seyde, "Freendes, I am hoor and oold,

And almoost, God woot, on my pittes brynke;

Upon my soule somwhat moste I thynke.

I have my body folily despended;

Blessed be God that it shal been amended!

For I wol be, certeyn, a wedded man,

And that anoon in al the haste I kan.

Unto som mayde fair and tendre of age,

I prey yow, shapeth for my mariage

Al sodeynly, for I wol nat abyde;

1410 And I wol fonde t' espien, on my syde,

To whom I may be wedded hastily.

But forasmuche as ye been mo than I,

Ye shullen rather swich a thyng espyen

Than I, and where me best were to allyen.

"But o thyng warne I yow, my freendes deere,

I wol noon oold wyf han in no manere.

She shal nat passe twenty yeer, certayn;

Oold fissh and yong flessh wolde I have fayn.

Bet is," quod he, "a pyk than a pykerel,

1420 And bet than old boef is the tendre veel.

I wol no womman thritty yeer of age;

It is but bene-straw and greet forage.

And eek thise olde wydwes, God it woot,

They konne so muchel craft on Wades boot,

So muchel broken harm, whan that hem leste,

That with hem sholde I nevere lyve in reste.

For sondry scoles maken sotile clerkis;

Womman of manye scoles half a clerk is.

But certeynly, a yong thyng may men gye,

1430 Right as men may warm wex with handes plye.

Wherfore I sey yow pleynly, in a clause,

I wol noon oold wyf han right for this cause.

For if so were I hadde swich myschaunce

That I in hire ne koude han no plesaunce,

Thanne sholde I lede my lyf in avoutrye

And go streight to the devel whan I dye.

Ne children sholde I none upon hire geten;

Yet were me levere houndes had me eten

Than that myn heritage sholde falle

1440 In straunge hand, and this I telle yow alle.

I dote nat; I woot the cause why

Men sholde wedde, and forthermoore woot I

Ther speketh many a man of mariage

That woot namoore of it than woot my page

For whiche causes man sholde take a wyf.

If he ne may nat lyven chaast his lyf,

Take hym a wyf with greet devocioun,

By cause of leveful procreacioun

Of children to th' onour of God above,

1450 And nat oonly for paramour or love;

And for they sholde leccherye eschue,

And yelde hir dette whan that it is due;

Or for that ech of hem sholde helpen oother

In meschief, as a suster shal the brother,

And lyve in chastitee ful holily.

But sires, by youre leve, that am nat I.

For -- God be thanked! -- I dar make avaunt

I feele my lymes stark and suffisaunt

To do al that a man bilongeth to;

1460 I woot myselven best what I may do.

Though I be hoor, I fare as dooth a tree

That blosmeth er that fruyt ywoxen bee;

And blosmy tree nys neither drye ne deed.

I feele me nowhere hoor but on myn heed;

Myn herte and alle my lymes been as grene

As laurer thurgh the yeer is for to sene.

And syn that ye han herd al myn entente,

I prey yow to my wyl ye wole assente."

Diverse men diversely hym tolde

1470 Of mariage manye ensamples olde.

Somme blamed it, somme preysed it, certeyn,

But atte laste, shortly for to seyn,

As al day falleth altercacioun

Bitwixen freendes in disputisoun,

Ther fil a stryf bitwixe his bretheren two,

Of whiche that oon was cleped Placebo;

Justinus soothly called was that oother.

Placebo seyde, "O Januarie, brother,

Ful litel nede hadde ye, my lord so deere,

1480 Conseil to axe of any that is heere,

But that ye been so ful of sapience

That yow ne liketh, for youre heighe prudence,

To weyven fro the word of Salomon.

This word seyde he unto us everychon:

`Wirk alle thyng by conseil,' thus seyde he,

`And thanne shaltow nat repente thee.'

But though that Salomon spak swich a word,

Myn owene deere brother and my lord,

So wysly God my soule brynge at reste,

1490 I holde youre owene conseil is the beste.

For, brother myn, of me taak this motyf:

I have now been a court-man al my lyf,

And God it woot, though I unworthy be,

I have stonden in ful greet degree

Abouten lordes of ful heigh estaat;

Yet hadde I nevere with noon of hem debaat.

I nevere hem contraried, trewely;

I woot wel that my lord kan moore than I.

What that he seith, I holde it ferme and stable;

1500 I seye the same, or elles thyng semblable.

A ful greet fool is any conseillour

That serveth any lord of heigh honour,

That dar presume, or elles thenken it,

That his conseil sholde passe his lordes wit.

Nay, lordes been no fooles, by my fay!

Ye han youreselven shewed heer to-day

So heigh sentence, so holily and weel,

That I consente and conferme everydeel

Youre wordes alle and youre opinioun.

1510 By God, ther nys no man in al this toun,

Ne in Ytaille, that koude bet han sayd!

Crist halt hym of this conseil ful wel apayd.

And trewely, it is an heigh corage

Of any man that stapen is in age

To take a yong wyf; by my fader kyn,

Youre herte hangeth on a joly pyn!

Dooth now in this matiere right as yow leste,

For finally I holde it for the beste."

Justinus, that ay stille sat and herde,

1520 Right in this wise he to Placebo answerde:

"Now, brother myn, be pacient, I preye,

Syn ye han seyd, and herkneth what I seye.

Senek, amonges othere wordes wyse,

Seith that a man oghte hym right wel avyse

To whom he yeveth his lond or his catel.

And syn I oghte avyse me right wel

To whom I yeve my good awey fro me,

Wel muchel moore I oghte avysed be

To whom I yeve my body for alwey.

1530 I warne yow wel, it is no childes pley

To take a wyf withouten avysement.

Men moste enquere -- this is myn assent --

Wher she be wys, or sobre, or dronkelewe,

Or proud, or elles ootherweys a shrewe,

A chidestere, or wastour of thy good,

Or riche, or poore, or elles mannyssh wood.

Al be it so that no man fynden shal

Noon in this world that trotteth hool in al,

Ne man, ne beest, swich as men koude devyse;

1540 But nathelees it oghte ynough suffise

With any wyf, if so were that she hadde

Mo goode thewes than hire vices badde;

And al this axeth leyser for t' enquere.

For, God it woot, I have wept many a teere

Ful pryvely, syn I have had a wyf.

Preyse whoso wole a wedded mannes lyf,

Certein I fynde in it but cost and care

And observances, of alle blisses bare.

And yet, God woot, my neighebores aboute,

1550 And namely of wommen many a route,

Seyn that I have the mooste stedefast wyf,

And eek the mekeste oon that bereth lyf;

But I woot best where wryngeth me my sho.

Ye mowe, for me, right as yow liketh do;

Avyseth yow -- ye been a man of age --

How that ye entren into mariage,

And namely with a yong wyf and a fair.

By hym that made water, erthe, and air,

The yongeste man that is in al this route

1560 Is bisy ynough to bryngen it aboute

To han his wyf allone. Trusteth me,

Ye shul nat plesen hire fully yeres thre --

This is to seyn, to doon hire ful plesaunce.

A wyf axeth ful many an observaunce.

I prey yow that ye be nat yvele apayd."

"Wel," quod this Januarie, "and hastow ysayd?

Straw for thy Senek, and for thy proverbes!

I counte nat a panyer ful of herbes

Of scole-termes. Wyser men than thow,

1570 As thou hast herd, assenteden right now

To my purpos. Placebo, what sey ye?"

"I seye it is a cursed man," quod he,

"That letteth matrimoigne, sikerly."

And with that word they rysen sodeynly,

And been assented fully that he sholde

Be wedded whanne hym liste and where he wolde.

Heigh fantasye and curious bisynesse

Fro day to day gan in the soule impresse

Of Januarie aboute his mariage.

1580 Many fair shap and many a fair visage

Ther passeth thurgh his herte nyght by nyght,

As whoso tooke a mirour, polisshed bryght,

And sette it in a commune market-place,

Thanne sholde he se ful many a figure pace

By his mirour; and in the same wyse

Gan Januarie inwith his thoght devyse

Of maydens whiche that dwelten hym bisyde.

He wiste nat wher that he myghte abyde.

For if that oon have beaute in hir face,

1590 Another stant so in the peples grace

For hire sadnesse and hire benyngnytee

That of the peple grettest voys hath she;

And somme were riche and hadden badde name.

But nathelees, bitwixe ernest and game,

He atte laste apoynted hym on oon,

And leet alle othere from his herte goon,

And chees hire of his owene auctoritee;

For love is blynd alday, and may nat see.

And whan that he was in his bed ybroght,

1600 He purtreyed in his herte and in his thoght

Hir fresshe beautee and hir age tendre,

Hir myddel smal, hire armes longe and sklendre,

Hir wise governaunce, hir gentillesse,

Hir wommanly berynge, and hire sadnesse.

And whan that he on hire was condescended,

Hym thoughte his choys myghte nat ben amended.

For whan that he hymself concluded hadde,

Hym thoughte ech oother mannes wit so badde

That inpossible it were to repplye

1610 Agayn his choys; this was his fantasye.

His freendes sente he to, at his instaunce,

And preyed hem to doon hym that plesaunce,

That hastily they wolden to hym come;

He wolde abregge hir labour, alle and some.

Nedeth namoore for hym to go ne ryde;

He was apoynted ther he wolde abyde.

Placebo cam, and eek his freendes soone,

And alderfirst he bad hem alle a boone,

That noon of hem none argumentes make

1620 Agayn the purpos which that he hath take,

Which purpos was plesant to God, seyde he,

And verray ground of his prosperitee.

He seyde ther was a mayden in the toun,

Which that of beautee hadde greet renoun,

Al were it so she were of smal degree;

Suffiseth hym hir yowthe and hir beautee.

Which mayde, he seyde, he wolde han to his wyf,

To lede in ese and hoolynesse his lyf;

And thanked God that he myghte han hire al,

1630 That no wight his blisse parten shal.

And preyed hem to laboure in this nede,

And shapen that he faille nat to spede;

For thanne, he seyde, his spirit was at ese.

"Thanne is," quod he, "no thyng may me displese,

Save o thyng priketh in my conscience,

The which I wol reherce in youre presence.

"I have," quod he, "herd seyd, ful yoore ago,

Ther may no man han parfite blisses two --

This is to seye, in erthe and eek in hevene.

1640 For though he kepe hym fro the synnes sevene,

And eek from every branche of thilke tree,

Yet is ther so parfit felicitee

And so greet ese and lust in mariage

That evere I am agast now in myn age

That I shal lede now so myrie a lyf,

So delicat, withouten wo and stryf,

That I shal have myn hevene in erthe heere.

For sith that verray hevene is boght so deere

With tribulacion and greet penaunce,

1650 How sholde I thanne, that lyve in swich plesaunce

As alle wedded men doon with hire wyvys,

Come to the blisse ther Crist eterne on lyve ys?

This is my drede, and ye, my bretheren tweye,

Assoilleth me this question, I preye."

Justinus, which that hated his folye,

Answerde anon right in his japerye;

And for he wolde his longe tale abregge,

He wolde noon auctoritee allegge,

But seyde, "Sire, so ther be noon obstacle

1660 Oother than this, God of his hygh myracle

And of his mercy may so for yow wirche

That, er ye have youre right of hooly chirche,

Ye may repente of wedded mannes lyf,

In which ye seyn ther is no wo ne stryf.

And elles, God forbede but he sente

A wedded man hym grace to repente

Wel ofte rather than a sengle man!

And therfore, sire -- the beste reed I kan --

Dispeire yow noght, but have in youre memorie,

1670 Paraunter she may be youre purgatorie!

She may be Goddes meene and Goddes whippe;

Thanne shal youre soule up to hevene skippe

Swifter than dooth an arwe out of a bowe.

I hope to God, herafter shul ye knowe

That ther nys no so greet felicitee

In mariage, ne nevere mo shal bee,

That yow shal lette of youre savacion,

So that ye use, as skile is and reson,

The lustes of youre wyf attemprely,

1680 And that ye plese hire nat to amorously,

And that ye kepe yow eek from oother synne.

My tale is doon, for my wit is thynne.

Beth nat agast herof, my brother deere,

But lat us waden out of this mateere.

The Wyf of Bathe, if ye han understonde,

Of mariage, which we have on honde,

Declared hath ful wel in litel space.

Fareth now wel. God have yow in his grace."

And with this word this Justyn and his brother

1690 Han take hir leve, and ech of hem of oother.

For whan they saughe that it moste nedes be,

They wroghten so, by sly and wys tretee,

That she, this mayden which that Mayus highte,

As hastily as evere that she myghte

Shal wedded be unto this Januarie.

I trowe it were to longe yow to tarie,

If I yow tolde of every scrit and bond

By which that she was feffed in his lond,

Or for to herknen of hir riche array.

1700 But finally ycomen is the day

That to the chirche bothe be they went

For to receyve the hooly sacrement.

Forth comth the preest, with stole aboute his nekke,

And bad hire be lyk Sarra and Rebekke

In wysdom and in trouthe of mariage;

And seyde his orisons, as is usage,

And croucheth hem, and bad God sholde hem blesse,

And made al siker ynogh with hoolynesse.

Thus been they wedded with solempnitee,

1710 And at the feeste sitteth he and she

With othere worthy folk upon the deys.

Al ful of joye and blisse is the paleys,

And ful of instrumentz and of vitaille,

The mooste deyntevous of al Ytaille.

Biforn hem stoode instrumentz of swich soun

That Orpheus, ne of Thebes Amphioun,

Ne maden nevere swich a melodye.

At every cours thanne cam loud mynstralcye

That nevere tromped Joab for to heere,

1720 Nor he Theodomas, yet half so cleere

At Thebes whan the citee was in doute.

Bacus the wyn hem shynketh al aboute,

And Venus laugheth upon every wight,

For Januarie was bicome hir knyght

And wolde bothe assayen his corage

In libertee, and eek in mariage;

And with hire fyrbrond in hire hand aboute

Daunceth biforn the bryde and al the route.

And certeinly, I dar right wel seyn this,

1730 Ymeneus, that god of weddyng is,

Saugh nevere his lyf so myrie a wedded man.

Hoold thou thy pees, thou poete Marcian,

That writest us that ilke weddyng murie

Of hire Philologie and hym Mercurie,

And of the songes that the Muses songe!

To smal is bothe thy penne, and eek thy tonge,

For to descryven of this mariage.

Whan tendre youthe hath wedded stoupyng age,

Ther is swich myrthe that it may nat be writen.

1740 Assayeth it youreself; thanne may ye witen

If that I lye or noon in this matiere.

Mayus, that sit with so benyngne a chiere,

Hire to biholde it semed fayerye.

Queene Ester looked nevere with swich an ye

On Assuer, so meke a look hath she.

I may yow nat devyse al hir beautee.

But thus muche of hire beautee telle I may,

That she was lyk the brighte morwe of May,

Fulfild of alle beautee and plesaunce.

1750 This Januarie is ravysshed in a traunce

At every tyme he looked on hir face;

But in his herte he gan hire to manace

That he that nyght in armes wolde hire streyne

Harder than evere Parys dide Eleyne.

But nathelees yet hadde he greet pitee

That thilke nyght offenden hire moste he,

And thoughte, "Allas! O tendre creature,

Now wolde God ye myghte wel endure

Al my corage, it is so sharp and keene!

1760 I am agast ye shul it nat susteene.

But God forbede that I dide al my myght!

Now wolde God that it were woxen nyght,

And that the nyght wolde lasten everemo.

I wolde that al this peple were ago."

And finally he dooth al his labour,

As he best myghte, savynge his honour,

To haste hem fro the mete in subtil wyse.

The tyme cam that resoun was to ryse;

And after that men daunce and drynken faste,

1770 And spices al aboute the hous they caste,

And ful of joye and blisse is every man --

Al but a squyer, highte Damyan,

Which carf biforn the knyght ful many a day.

He was so ravysshed on his lady May

That for the verray peyne he was ny wood.

Almoost he swelte and swowned ther he stood,

So soore hath Venus hurt hym with hire brond,

As that she bar it daunsynge in hire hond;

And to his bed he wente hym hastily.

1780 Namoore of hym at this tyme speke I,

But there I lete hym wepe ynogh and pleyne

Til fresshe May wol rewen on his peyne.

O perilous fyr, that in the bedstraw bredeth!

O famulier foo, that his servyce bedeth!

O servant traytour, false hoomly hewe,

Lyk to the naddre in bosom sly untrewe,

God shilde us alle from youre aqueyntaunce!

O Januarie, dronken in plesaunce

In mariage, se how thy Damyan,

1790 Thyn owene squier and thy borne man,

Entendeth for to do thee vileynye.

God graunte thee thyn hoomly fo t' espye!

For in this world nys worse pestilence

Than hoomly foo al day in thy presence.

Parfourned hath the sonne his ark diurne;

No lenger may the body of hym sojurne

On th' orisonte, as in that latitude.

Night with his mantel, that is derk and rude,

Gan oversprede the hemysperie aboute;

1800 For which departed is this lusty route

Fro Januarie, with thank on every syde.

Hoom to hir houses lustily they ryde,

Where as they doon hir thynges as hem leste,

And whan they sye hir tyme, goon to reste.

Soone after that, this hastif Januarie

Wolde go to bedde; he wolde no lenger tarye.

He drynketh ypocras, clarree, and vernage

Of spices hoote t' encreessen his corage;

And many a letuarie hath he ful fyn,

1810 Swiche as the cursed monk, daun Constantyn,

Hath writen in his book De Coitu;

To eten hem alle he nas no thyng eschu.

And to his privee freendes thus seyde he:

"For Goddes love, as soone as it may be,

Lat voyden al this hous in curteys wyse."

And they han doon right as he wol devyse.

Men drynken and the travers drawe anon.

The bryde was broght abedde as stille as stoon;

And whan the bed was with the preest yblessed,

1820 Out of the chambre hath every wight hym dressed,

And Januarie hath faste in armes take

His fresshe May, his paradys, his make.

He lulleth hire; he kisseth hire ful ofte;

With thikke brustles of his berd unsofte,

Lyk to the skyn of houndfyssh, sharp as brere --

For he was shave al newe in his manere --

He rubbeth hire aboute hir tendre face,

And seyde thus, "Allas! I moot trespace

To yow, my spouse, and yow greetly offende

1830 Er tyme come that I wil doun descende.

But nathelees, considereth this," quod he,

"Ther nys no werkman, whatsoevere he be,

That may bothe werke wel and hastily;

This wol be doon at leyser parfitly.

It is no fors how longe that we pleye;

In trewe wedlok coupled be we tweye,

And blessed be the yok that we been inne,

For in oure actes we mowe do no synne.

A man may do no synne with his wyf,

1840 Ne hurte hymselven with his owene knyf,

For we han leve to pleye us by the lawe."

Thus laboureth he til that the day gan dawe;

And thanne he taketh a sop in fyn clarree,

And upright in his bed thanne sitteth he,

And after that he sang ful loude and cleere,

And kiste his wyf, and made wantown cheere.

He was al coltissh, ful of ragerye,

And ful of jargon as a flekked pye.

The slakke skyn aboute his nekke shaketh

1850 Whil that he sang, so chaunteth he and craketh.

But God woot what that May thoughte in hir herte,

Whan she hym saugh up sittynge in his sherte,

In his nyght-cappe, and with his nekke lene;

She preyseth nat his pleyyng worth a bene.

Thanne seide he thus, "My reste wol I take;

Now day is come, I may no lenger wake."

And doun he leyde his heed and sleep til pryme.

And afterward, whan that he saugh his tyme,

Up ryseth Januarie; but fresshe May

1860 Heeld hire chambre unto the fourthe day,

As usage is of wyves for the beste.

For every labour somtyme moot han reste,

Or elles longe may he nat endure;

This is to seyn, no lyves creature,

Be it of fyssh, or bryd, or beest, or man.

Now wol I speke of woful Damyan,

That langwissheth for love, as ye shul heere;

Therfore I speke to hym in this manere:

I seye, "O sely Damyan, allas!

1870 Andswere to my demaunde, as in this cas.

How shaltow to thy lady, fresshe May,

Telle thy wo? She wole alwey seye nay.

Eek if thou speke, she wol thy wo biwreye.

God be thyn helpe! I kan no bettre seye."

This sike Damyan in Venus fyr

So brenneth that he dyeth for desyr,

For which he putte his lyf in aventure.

No lenger myghte he in this wise endure,

But prively a penner gan he borwe,

1880 And in a lettre wroot he al his sorwe,

In manere of a compleynt or a lay,

Unto his faire, fresshe lady May;

And in a purs of sylk heng on his sherte

He hath it put, and leyde it at his herte.

The moone, that at noon was thilke day

That Januarie hath wedded fresshe May

In two of Tawr, was into Cancre glyden;

So longe hath Mayus in hir chambre abyden,

As custume is unto thise nobles alle.

1890 A bryde shal nat eten in the halle

Til dayes foure, or thre dayes atte leeste,

Ypassed been; thanne lat hire go to feeste.

The fourthe day compleet fro noon to noon,

Whan that the heighe masse was ydoon,

In halle sit this Januarie and May,

As fressh as is the brighte someres day.

And so bifel how that this goode man

Remembred hym upon this Damyan,

And seyde, "Seynte Marie! how may this be,

1900 That Damyan entendeth nat to me?

Is he ay syk, or how may this bityde?"

His squieres, whiche that stooden ther bisyde,

Excused hym by cause of his siknesse,

Which letted hym to doon his bisynesse;

Noon oother cause myghte make hym tarye.

"That me forthynketh," quod this Januarie,

"He is a gentil squier, by my trouthe!

If that he deyde, it were harm and routhe.

He is as wys, discreet, and as secree

1910 As any man I woot of his degree,

And therto manly, and eek servysable,

And for to been a thrifty man right able.

But after mete, as soone as evere I may,

I wol myself visite hym, and eek May,

To doon hym al the confort that I kan."

And for that word hym blessed every man,

That of his bountee and his gentillesse

He wolde so conforten in siknesse

His squier, for it was a gentil dede.

1920 "Dame," quod this Januarie, "taak good hede,

At after-mete ye with youre wommen alle,

Whan ye han been in chambre out of this halle,

That alle ye go se this Damyan.

Dooth hym disport -- he is a gentil man;

And telleth hym that I wol hym visite,

Have I no thyng but rested me a lite;

And spede yow faste, for I wole abyde

Til that ye slepe faste by my syde."

And with that word he gan to hym to calle

1930 A squier, that was marchal of his halle,

And tolde hym certeyn thynges, what he wolde.

This fresshe May hath streight hir wey yholde

With alle hir wommen unto Damyan.

Doun by his beddes syde sit she than,

Confortynge hym as goodly as she may.

This Damyan, whan that his tyme he say,

In secree wise his purs and eek his bille,

In which that he ywriten hadde his wille,

Hath put into hire hand, withouten moore,

1940 Save that he siketh wonder depe and soore,

And softely to hire right thus seyde he:

"Mercy! And that ye nat discovere me,

For I am deed if that this thyng be kyd."

This purs hath she inwith hir bosom hyd

And wente hire wey; ye gete namoore of me.

But unto Januarie ycomen is she,

That on his beddes syde sit ful softe.

He taketh hire, and kisseth hire ful ofte,

And leyde hym doun to slepe, and that anon.

1950 She feyned hire as that she moste gon

Ther as ye woot that every wight moot neede;

And whan she of this bille hath taken heede,

She rente it al to cloutes atte laste,

And in the pryvee softely it caste.

Who studieth now but faire fresshe May?

Adoun by olde Januarie she lay,

That sleep til that the coughe hath hym awaked.

Anon he preyde hire strepen hire al naked;

He wolde of hire, he seyde, han som plesaunce;

1960 He seyde hir clothes dide hym encombraunce,

And she obeyeth, be hire lief or looth.

But lest that precious folk be with me wrooth,

How that he wroghte, I dar nat to yow telle,

Or wheither hire thoughte it paradys or helle.

But heere I lete hem werken in hir wyse

Til evensong rong and that they moste aryse.

Were it by destynee or by aventure,

Were it by influence or by nature,

Or constellacion, that in swich estaat

1970 The hevene stood that tyme fortunaat

Was for to putte a bille of Venus werkes --

For alle thyng hath tyme, as seyn thise clerkes --

To any womman for to gete hire love,

I kan nat seye; but grete God above,

That knoweth that noon act is causelees,

He deme of al, for I wole holde my pees.

But sooth is this, how that this fresshe May

Hath take swich impression that day

Of pitee of this sike Damyan

1980 That from hire herte she ne dryve kan

The remembrance for to doon hym ese.

"Certeyn," thoghte she, "whom that this thyng displese

I rekke noght, for heere I hym assure

To love hym best of any creature,

Though he namoore hadde than his sherte."

Lo, pitee renneth soone in gentil herte!

Heere may ye se how excellent franchise

In wommen is, whan they hem narwe avyse.

Som tyrant is, as ther be many oon

1990 That hath an herte as hard as any stoon,

Which wolde han lat hym sterven in the place

Wel rather than han graunted hym hire grace,

And hem rejoysen in hire crueel pryde,

And rekke nat to been an homycide.

This gentil May, fulfilled of pitee,

Right of hire hand a lettre made she,

In which she graunteth hym hire verray grace.

Ther lakketh noght oonly but day and place

Wher that she myghte unto his lust suffise,

2000 For it shal be right as he wole devyse.

And whan she saugh hir tyme, upon a day

To visite this Damyan gooth May,

And sotilly this lettre doun she threste

Under his pilwe; rede it if hym leste.

She taketh hym by the hand and harde hym twiste

So secrely that no wight of it wiste,

And bad hym been al hool, and forth she wente

To Januarie, whan that he for hire sente.

Up riseth Damyan the nexte morwe;

2010 Al passed was his siknesse and his sorwe.

He kembeth hym, he preyneth hym and pyketh,

He dooth al that his lady lust and lyketh,

And eek to Januarie he gooth as lowe

As evere dide a dogge for the bowe.

He is so plesant unto every man

(For craft is al, whoso that do it kan)

That every wight is fayn to speke hym good,

And fully in his lady grace he stood.

Thus lete I Damyan aboute his nede,

2020 And in my tale forth I wol procede.

Somme clerkes holden that felicitee

Stant in delit, and therfore certeyn he,

This noble Januarie, with al his myght,

In honest wyse, as longeth to a knyght,

Shoop hym to lyve ful deliciously.

His housynge, his array, as honestly

To his degree was maked as a kynges.

Amonges othere of his honeste thynges,

He made a gardyn, walled al with stoon;

2030 So fair a gardyn woot I nowher noon.

For, out of doute, I verraily suppose

That he that wroot the Romance of the Rose

Ne koude of it the beautee wel devyse;

Ne Priapus ne myghte nat suffise,

Though he be god of gardyns, for to telle

The beautee of the gardyn and the welle

That stood under a laurer alwey grene.

Ful ofte tyme he Pluto and his queene,

Proserpina, and al hire fayerye,

2040 Disporten hem and maken melodye

Aboute that welle, and daunced, as men tolde.

This noble knyght, this Januarie the olde,

Swich deyntee hath in it to walke and pleye,

That he wol no wight suffren bere the keye

Save he hymself; for of the smale wyket

He baar alwey of silver a clyket,

With which, whan that hym leste, he it unshette.

And whan he wolde paye his wyf hir dette

In somer seson, thider wolde he go,

2050 And May his wyf, and no wight but they two;

And thynges whiche that were nat doon abedde,

He in the gardyn parfourned hem and spedde.

And in this wyse, many a murye day,

Lyved this Januarie and fresshe May.

But worldly joye may nat alwey dure

To Januarie, ne to no creature.

O sodeyn hap! O thou Fortune unstable!

Lyk to the scorpion so deceyvable,

That flaterest with thyn heed whan thou wolt stynge;

2060 Thy tayl is deeth, thurgh thyn envenymynge.

O brotil joye! O sweete venym queynte!

O monstre, that so subtilly kanst peynte

Thy yiftes under hewe of stidefastnesse,

That thou deceyvest bothe moore and lesse!

Why hastow Januarie thus deceyved,

That haddest hym for thy fulle freend receyved?

And now thou hast biraft hym bothe his yen,

For sorwe of which desireth he to dyen.

Allas, this noble Januarie free,

2070 Amydde his lust and his prosperitee,

Is woxen blynd, and that al sodeynly.

He wepeth and he wayleth pitously;

And therwithal the fyr of jalousie,

Lest that his wyf sholde falle in som folye,

So brente his herte that he wolde fayn

That som man bothe hire and hym had slayn.

For neither after his deeth nor in his lyf

Ne wolde he that she were love ne wyf,

But evere lyve as wydwe in clothes blake,

2080 Soul as the turtle that lost hath hire make.

But atte laste, after a month or tweye,

His sorwe gan aswage, sooth to seye;

For whan he wiste it may noon oother be,

He paciently took his adversitee,

Save, out of doute, he may nat forgoon

That he nas jalous everemoore in oon;

Which jalousye it was so outrageous

That neither in halle, n' yn noon oother hous,

Ne in noon oother place, neverthemo,

2090 He nolde suffre hire for to ryde or go,

But if that he had hond on hire alway;

For which ful ofte wepeth fresshe May,

That loveth Damyan so benyngnely

That she moot outher dyen sodeynly

Or elles she moot han hym as hir leste.

She wayteth whan hir herte wolde breste.

Upon that oother syde Damyan

Bicomen is the sorwefulleste man

That evere was, for neither nyght ne day

2100 Ne myghte he speke a word to fresshe May,

As to his purpos, of no swich mateere,

But if that Januarie moste it heere,

That hadde an hand upon hire everemo.

But nathelees, by writyng to and fro

And privee signes wiste he what she mente,

And she knew eek the fyn of his entente.

O Januarie, what myghte it thee availle,

Thogh thou myghtest se as fer as shippes saille?

For as good is blynd deceyved be

2110 As to be deceyved whan a man may se.

Lo, Argus, which that hadde an hondred yen,

For al that evere he koude poure or pryen,

Yet was he blent, and, God woot, so been mo

That wenen wisly that it be nat so.

Passe over is an ese, I sey namoore.

This fresshe May, that I spak of so yoore,

In warm wex hath emprented the clyket

That Januarie bar of the smale wyket,

By which into his gardyn ofte he wente;

2120 And Damyan, that knew al hire entente,

The cliket countrefeted pryvely.

Ther nys namoore to seye, but hastily

Som wonder by this clyket shal bityde,

Which ye shul heeren, if ye wole abyde.

O noble Ovyde, ful sooth seystou, God woot,

What sleighte is it, thogh it be long and hoot,

That Love nyl fynde it out in som manere?

By Piramus and Tesbee may men leere;

Thogh they were kept ful longe streite overal,

2130 They been accorded, rownynge thurgh a wal,

Ther no wight koude han founde out swich a sleighte.

But now to purpos: er that dayes eighte

Were passed [of] the month of [Juyn], bifil

That Januarie hath caught so greet a wil,

Thurgh eggyng of his wyf, hym for to pleye

In his gardyn, and no wight but they tweye,

That in a morwe unto his May seith he:

"Rys up, my wyf, my love, my lady free!

The turtles voys is herd, my dowve sweete;

2140 The wynter is goon with alle his reynes weete.

Com forth now, with thyne eyen columbyn!

How fairer been thy brestes than is wyn!

The gardyn is enclosed al aboute;

Com forth, my white spouse! Out of doute

Thou hast me wounded in myn herte, O wyf!

No spot of thee ne knew I al my lyf.

Com forth, and lat us taken oure disport;

I chees thee for my wyf and my confort."

Swiche olde lewed wordes used he.

2150 On Damyan a signe made she,

That he sholde go biforn with his cliket.

This Damyan thanne hath opened the wyket,

And in he stirte, and that in swich manere

That no wight myghte it se neither yheere,

And stille he sit under a bussh anon.

This Januarie, as blynd as is a stoon,

With Mayus in his hand, and no wight mo,

Into his fresshe gardyn is ago,

And clapte to the wyket sodeynly.

2160 "Now wyf," quod he, "heere nys but thou and I,

That art the creature that I best love.

For by that Lord that sit in hevene above,

Levere ich hadde to dyen on a knyf

Than thee offende, trewe deere wyf!

For Goddes sake, thenk how I thee chees,

Noght for no coveitise, doutelees,

But oonly for the love I had to thee.

And though that I be oold and may nat see,

Beth to me trewe, and I wol telle yow why.

2170 Thre thynges, certes, shal ye wynne therby:

First, love of Crist, and to youreself honour,

And al myn heritage, toun and tour;

I yeve it yow, maketh chartres as yow leste;

This shal be doon to-morwe er sonne reste,

So wisly God my soule brynge in blisse.

I prey yow first, in covenant ye me kisse;

And though that I be jalous, wyte me noght.

Ye been so depe enprented in my thoght

That, whan that I considere youre beautee

2180 And therwithal the unlikly elde of me,

I may nat, certes, though I sholde dye,

Forbere to been out of youre compaignye

For verray love; this is withouten doute.

Now kys me, wyf, and lat us rome aboute."

This fresshe May, whan she thise wordes herde,

Benyngnely to Januarie answerde,

But first and forward she bigan to wepe.

"I have," quod she, "a soule for to kepe

As wel as ye, and also myn honour,

2190 And of my wyfhod thilke tendre flour,

Which that I have assured in youre hond,

Whan that the preest to yow my body bond;

Wherfore I wole answere in this manere,

By the leve of yow, my lord so deere:

I prey to God that nevere dawe the day

That I ne sterve, as foule as womman may,

If evere I do unto my kyn that shame,

Or elles I empeyre so my name,

That I be fals; and if I do that lak,

2200 Do strepe me and put me in a sak,

And in the nexte ryver do me drenche.

I am a gentil womman and no wenche.

Why speke ye thus? But men been evere untrewe,

And wommen have repreve of yow ay newe.

Ye han noon oother contenance, I leeve,

But speke to us of untrust and repreeve."

And with that word she saugh wher Damyan

Sat in the bussh, and coughen she bigan,

And with hir fynger signes made she

2210 That Damyan sholde clymbe upon a tree

That charged was with fruyt, and up he wente.

For verraily he knew al hire entente,

And every signe that she koude make,

Wel bet than Januarie, hir owene make,

For in a lettre she hadde toold hym al

Of this matere, how he werchen shal.

And thus I lete hym sitte upon the pyrie,

And Januarie and May romynge myrie.

Bright was the day, and blew the firmament;

2220 Phebus hath of gold his stremes doun ysent

To gladen every flour with his warmnesse.

He was that tyme in Geminis, as I gesse,

But litel fro his declynacion

Of Cancer, Jovis exaltacion.

And so bifel, that brighte morwe-tyde

That in that gardyn, in the ferther syde,

Pluto, that is kyng of Fayerye,

And many a lady in his compaignye,

Folwynge his wyf, the queene Proserpyna,

2230 Which that he ravysshed out of [Ethna]

Whil that she gadered floures in the mede --

In Claudyan ye may the stories rede,

How in his grisely carte he hire fette --

This kyng of Fairye thanne adoun hym sette

Upon a bench of turves, fressh and grene,

And right anon thus seyde he to his queene:

"My wyf," quod he, "ther may no wight seye nay;

Th' experience so preveth every day

The tresons whiche that wommen doon to man.

2240 Ten hondred thousand [tales] tellen I kan

Notable of youre untrouthe and brotilnesse.

O Salomon, wys, and richest of richesse,

Fulfild of sapience and of worldly glorie,

Ful worthy been thy wordes to memorie

To every wight that wit and reson kan.

Thus preiseth he yet the bountee of man:

`Amonges a thousand men yet foond I oon,

But of wommen alle foond I noon.'

"Thus seith the kyng that knoweth youre wikkednesse.

2250 And Jhesus, filius Syrak, as I gesse,

Ne speketh of yow but seelde reverence.

A wylde fyr and corrupt pestilence

So falle upon youre bodyes yet to-nyght!

Ne se ye nat this honurable knyght,

By cause, allas, that he is blynd and old,

His owene man shal make hym cokewold.

Lo, where he sit, the lechour, in the tree!

Now wol I graunten, of my magestee,

Unto this olde, blynde, worthy knyght

2260 That he shal have ayen his eyen syght,

Whan that his wyf wold doon hym vileynye.

Thanne shal he knowen al hire harlotrye,

Bothe in repreve of hire and othere mo."

"Ye shal?" quod Proserpyne, "wol ye so?

Now by my moodres sires soule I swere

That I shal yeven hire suffisant answere,

And alle wommen after, for hir sake,

That, though they be in any gilt ytake,

With face boold they shulle hemself excuse,

2270 And bere hem doun that wolden hem accuse.

For lak of answere noon of hem shal dyen.

Al hadde man seyn a thyng with bothe his yen,

Yit shul we wommen visage it hardily,

And wepe, and swere, and chyde subtilly,

So that ye men shul been as lewed as gees.

"What rekketh me of youre auctoritees?

I woot wel that this Jew, this Salomon,

Foond of us wommen fooles many oon.

But though that he ne foond no good womman,

2280 Yet hath ther founde many another man

Wommen ful trewe, ful goode, and vertuous.

Witnesse on hem that dwelle in Cristes hous;

With martirdom they preved hire constance.

The Romayn geestes eek make remembrance

Of many a verray, trewe wyf also.

But, sire, ne be nat wrooth, al be it so,

Though that he seyde he foond no good womman,

I prey yow take the sentence of the man;

He mente thus, that in sovereyn bontee

2290 Nis noon but God, but neither he ne she.

"Ey! for verray God that nys but oon,

What make ye so muche of Salomon?

What though he made a temple, Goddes hous?

What though he were riche and glorious?

So made he eek a temple of false goddis.

How myghte he do a thyng that moore forbode is?

Pardee, as faire as ye his name emplastre,

He was a lecchour and an ydolastre,

And in his elde he verray God forsook;

2300 And if God ne hadde, as seith the book,

Yspared him for his fadres sake, he sholde

Have lost his regne rather than he wolde.

I sette right noght, of al the vileynye

That ye of wommen write, a boterflye!

I am a womman, nedes moot I speke,

Or elles swelle til myn herte breke.

For sithen he seyde that we been jangleresses,

As evere hool I moote brouke my tresses,

I shal nat spare, for no curteisye,

2310 To speke hym harm that wolde us vileynye."

"Dame," quod this Pluto, "be no lenger wrooth;

I yeve it up! But sith I swoor myn ooth

That I wolde graunten hym his sighte ageyn,

My word shal stonde, I warne yow certeyn.

I am a kyng; it sit me noght to lye."

"And I," quod she, "a queene of Fayerye!

Hir answere shal she have, I undertake.

Lat us namoore wordes heerof make;

For sothe, I wol no lenger yow contrarie."

2320 Now lat us turne agayn to Januarie,

That in the gardyn with his faire May

Syngeth ful murier than the papejay,

"Yow love I best, and shal, and oother noon."

So longe aboute the aleyes is he goon,

Til he was come agaynes thilke pyrie

Where as this Damyan sitteth ful myrie

An heigh among the fresshe leves grene.

This fresshe May, that is so bright and sheene,

Gan for to syke, and seyde, "Allas, my syde!

2330 Now sire," quod she, "for aught that may bityde,

I moste han of the peres that I see,

Or I moot dye, so soore longeth me

To eten of the smale peres grene.

Help, for hir love that is of hevene queene!

I telle yow wel, a womman in my plit

May han to fruyt so greet an appetit

That she may dyen but she of it have."

"Allas," quod he, "that I ne had heer a knave

That koude clymbe! Allas, allas," quod he,

2340 "For I am blynd!" "Ye, sire, no fors," quod she;

"But wolde ye vouche sauf, for Goddes sake,

The pyrie inwith youre armes for to take,

For wel I woot that ye mystruste me,

Thanne sholde I clymbe wel ynogh," quod she,

"So I my foot myghte sette upon youre bak."

"Certes," quod he, "theron shal be no lak,

Mighte I yow helpen with myn herte blood."

He stoupeth doun, and on his bak she stood,

And caughte hire by a twiste, and up she gooth --

2350 Ladyes, I prey yow that ye be nat wrooth;

I kan nat glose, I am a rude man --

And sodeynly anon this Damyan

Gan pullen up the smok, and in he throng.

And whan that Pluto saugh this grete wrong,

To Januarie he gaf agayn his sighte,

And made hym se as wel as evere he myghte.

And whan that he hadde caught his sighte agayn,

Ne was ther nevere man of thyng so fayn,

But on his wyf his thoght was everemo.

2360 Up to the tree he caste his eyen two,

And saugh that Damyan his wyf had dressed

In swich manere it may nat been expressed,

But if I wolde speke uncurteisly;

And up he yaf a roryng and a cry,

As dooth the mooder whan the child shal dye:

"Out! Help! Allas! Harrow!" he gan to crye,

"O stronge lady stoore, what dostow?"

And she answerde, "Sire, what eyleth yow?

Have pacience and resoun in youre mynde.

2370 I have yow holpe on bothe youre eyen blynde.

Up peril of my soule, I shal nat lyen,

As me was taught, to heele with youre eyen,

Was no thyng bet, to make yow to see,

Than strugle with a man upon a tree.

God woot, I dide it in ful good entente."

"Strugle?" quod he, "Ye, algate in it wente!

God yeve yow bothe on shames deth to dyen!

He swyved thee; I saugh it with myne yen,

And elles be I hanged by the hals!"

2380 "Thanne is," quod she, "my medicyne fals;

For certeinly, if that ye myghte se,

Ye wolde nat seyn thise wordes unto me.

Ye han som glymsyng, and no parfit sighte."

"I se," quod he, "as wel as evere I myghte,

Thonked be God! With bothe myne eyen two,

And by my trouthe, me thoughte he dide thee so."

"Ye maze, maze, goode sire," quod she;

"This thank have I for I have maad yow see.

Allas," quod she, "that evere I was so kynde!"

2390 "Now, dame," quod he, "lat al passe out of mynde.

Com doun, my lief, and if I have myssayd,

God helpe me so, as I am yvele apayd.

But, by my fader soule, I wende han seyn

How that this Damyan hadde by thee leyn,

And that thy smok hadde leyn upon his brest."

"Ye, sire," quod she, "ye may wene as yow lest.

But, sire, a man that waketh out of his sleep,

He may nat sodeynly wel taken keep

Upon a thyng, ne seen it parfitly,

2400 Til that he be adawed verraily.

Right so a man that longe hath blynd ybe,

Ne may nat sodeynly so wel yse,

First whan his sighte is newe come ageyn,

As he that hath a day or two yseyn.

Til that youre sighte ysatled be a while

Ther may ful many a sighte yow bigile.

Beth war, I prey yow, for by hevene kyng,

Ful many a man weneth to seen a thyng,

And it is al another than it semeth.

2410 He that mysconceyveth, he mysdemeth."

And with that word she leep doun fro the tree.

This Januarie, who is glad but he?

He kisseth hire and clippeth hire ful ofte,

And on hire wombe he stroketh hire ful softe,

And to his palays hoom he hath hire lad.

Now, goode men, I pray yow to be glad.

Thus endeth heere my tale of Januarie;

God blesse us, and his mooder Seinte Marie!

THE MERCHANT'S EPILOGUE

"Ey! Goddes mercy!" seyde oure Hooste tho,

2420 "Now swich a wyf I pray God kepe me fro!

Lo, whiche sleightes and subtilitees

In wommen been! For ay as bisy as bees

Been they, us sely men for to deceyve,

And from the soothe evere wol they weyve;

By this Marchauntes tale it preveth weel.

But doutelees, as trewe as any steel

I have a wyf, though that she povre be,

But of hir tonge, a labbyng shrewe is she,

And yet she hath an heep of vices mo;

2430 Therof no fors! Lat alle swiche thynges go.

But wyte ye what? In conseil be it seyd,

Me reweth soore I am unto hire teyd.

For and I sholde rekenen every vice

Which that she hath, ywis I were to nyce.

And cause why? It sholde reported be

And toold to hire of somme of this meynee --

Of whom, it nedeth nat for to declare,

Syn wommen konnen outen swich chaffare;

And eek my wit suffiseth nat therto

2440 To tellen al; wherfore my tale is do."

THE SQUIRE'S INTRODUCTION

"Squier, com neer, if it youre wille be,

And sey somwhat of love, for certes ye

Konnen theron as muche as any man."

"Nay, sire," quod he, "but I wol seye as I kan

With hertly wyl, for I wol nat rebelle

Agayn youre lust; a tale wol I telle.

Have me excused if I speke amys;

My wyl is good, and lo, my tale is this."

THE SQUIRE'S TALE

At Sarray, in the land of Tartarye,

10 Ther dwelte a kyng that werreyed Russye,

Thurgh which ther dyde many a doughty man.

This noble kyng was cleped Cambyuskan,

Which in his tyme was of so greet renoun

That ther was nowher in no regioun

So excellent a lord in alle thyng:

Hym lakked noght that longeth to a kyng.

As of the secte of which that he was born

He kepte his lay, to which that he was sworn;

And therto he was hardy, wys, and riche,

20 And pitous and just, alwey yliche;

Sooth of his word, benigne, and honurable;

Of his corage as any centre stable;

Yong, fressh, and strong, in armes desirous

As any bacheler of al his hous.

A fair persone he was and fortunat,

And kept alwey so wel roial estat

That ther was nowher swich another man.

This noble kyng, this Tartre Cambyuskan,

Hadde two sones on Elpheta his wyf,

30 Of whiche the eldeste highte Algarsyf;

That oother sone was cleped Cambalo.

A doghter hadde this worthy kyng also,

That yongest was, and highte Canacee.

But for to telle yow al hir beautee,

It lyth nat in my tonge, n' yn my konnyng;

I dar nat undertake so heigh a thyng.

Myn Englissh eek is insufficient.

It moste been a rethor excellent

That koude his colours longynge for that art,

40 If he sholde hire discryven every part.

I am noon swich, I moot speke as I kan.

And so bifel that whan this Cambyuskan

Hath twenty wynter born his diademe,

As he was wont fro yeer to yeer, I deme,

He leet the feeste of his nativitee

Doon cryen thurghout Sarray his citee,

The laste Idus of March, after the yeer.

Phebus the sonne ful joly was and cleer,

For he was neigh his exaltacioun

50 In Martes face and in his mansioun

In Aries, the colerik hoote signe.

Ful lusty was the weder and benigne,

For which the foweles, agayn the sonne sheene,

What for the sesoun and the yonge grene,

Ful loude songen hire affecciouns.

Hem semed han geten hem protecciouns

Agayn the swerd of wynter, keene and coold.

This Cambyuskan, of which I have yow toold,

In roial vestiment sit on his deys,

60 With diademe, ful heighe in his paleys,

And halt his feeste so solempne and so ryche

That in this world ne was ther noon it lyche;

Of which if I shal tellen al th' array,

Thanne wolde it occupie a someres day,

And eek it nedeth nat for to devyse

At every cours the ordre of hire servyse.

I wol nat tellen of hir strange sewes,

Ne of hir swannes, ne of hire heronsewes.

Eek in that lond, as tellen knyghtes olde,

70 Ther is som mete that is ful deynte holde

That in this lond men recche of it but smal;

Ther nys no man that may reporten al.

I wol nat taryen yow, for it is pryme

And for it is no fruyt but los of tyme;

Unto my firste I wole have my recours.

And so bifel that after the thridde cours,

Whil that this kyng sit thus in his nobleye,

Herknynge his mynstralles hir thynges pleye

Biforn hym at the bord deliciously,

80 In at the halle dore al sodeynly

Ther cam a knyght upon a steede of bras,

And in his hand a brood mirour of glas.

Upon his thombe he hadde of gold a ryng,

And by his syde a naked swerd hangyng;

And up he rideth to the heighe bord.

In al the halle ne was ther spoken a word

For merveille of this knyght; hym to biholde

Ful bisily they wayten, yonge and olde.

This strange knyght, that cam thus sodeynly,

90 Al armed, save his heed, ful richely,

Saleweth kyng and queene and lordes alle,

By ordre, as they seten in the halle,

With so heigh reverence and obeisaunce,

As wel in speche as in contenaunce,

That Gawayn, with his olde curteisye,

Though he were comen ayeyn out of Fairye,

Ne koude hym nat amende with a word.

And after this, biforn the heighe bord,

He with a manly voys seide his message,

100 After the forme used in his langage,

Withouten vice of silable or of lettre;

And for his tale sholde seme the bettre,

Accordant to his wordes was his cheere,

As techeth art of speche hem that it leere.

Al be that I kan nat sowne his stile,

Ne kan nat clymben over so heigh a style,

Yet seye I this, as to commune entente:

Thus muche amounteth al that evere he mente,

If it so be that I have it in mynde.

110 He seyde, "The kyng of Arabe and of Inde,

My lige lord, on this solempne day

Saleweth yow, as he best kan and may,

And sendeth yow, in honour of youre feeste,

By me, that am al redy at youre heeste,

This steede of bras, that esily and weel

Kan in the space of o day natureel --

This is to seyn, in foure and twenty houres --

Wher-so yow lyst, in droghte or elles shoures,

Beren youre body into every place

120 To which youre herte wilneth for to pace,

Withouten wem of yow, thurgh foul or fair;

Or, if yow lyst to fleen as hye in the air

As dooth an egle whan hym list to soore,

This same steede shal bere yow evere moore,

Withouten harm, til ye be ther yow leste,

Though that ye slepen on his bak or reste,

And turne ayeyn with writhyng of a pyn.

He that it wroghte koude ful many a gyn.

He wayted many a constellacion

130 Er he had doon this operacion,

And knew ful many a seel and many a bond.

"This mirour eek, that I have in myn hond,

Hath swich a myght that men may in it see

Whan ther shal fallen any adversitee

Unto youre regne or to youreself also,

And openly who is youre freend or foo.

"And over al this, if any lady bright

Hath set hire herte on any maner wight,

If he be fals, she shal his tresoun see,

140 His newe love, and al his subtiltee,

So openly that ther shal no thyng hyde.

Wherfore, ageyn this lusty someres tyde,

This mirour and this ryng, that ye may see,

He hath sent to my lady Canacee,

Youre excellente doghter that is heere.

"The vertu of the ryng, if ye wol heere,

Is this: that if hire lust it for to were

Upon hir thombe or in hir purs it bere,

Ther is no fowel that fleeth under the hevene

150 That she ne shal wel understonde his stevene,

And knowe his menyng openly and pleyn,

And answere hym in his langage ageyn;

And every gras that groweth upon roote

She shal eek knowe, and whom it wol do boote,

Al be his woundes never so depe and wyde.

"This naked swerd, that hangeth by my syde,

Swich vertu hath that what man so ye smyte

Thurghout his armure it wole kerve and byte,

Were it as thikke as is a branched ook;

160 And what man that is wounded with the strook

Shal never be hool til that yow list, of grace,

To stroke hym with the plat in thilke place

Ther he is hurt; this is as muche to seyn,

Ye moote with the platte swerd ageyn

Stroke hym in the wounde, and it wol close.

This is a verray sooth, withouten glose;

It failleth nat whils it is in youre hoold."

And whan this knyght hath thus his tale toold,

He rideth out of halle and doun he lighte.

170 His steede, which that shoon as sonne brighte,

Stant in the court, stille as any stoon.

This knyght is to his chambre lad anoon,

And is unarmed, and to mete yset.

The presentes been ful roially yfet --

This is to seyn, the swerd and the mirour --

And born anon into the heighe tour

With certeine officers ordeyned therfore;

And unto Canacee this ryng is bore

Solempnely, ther she sit at the table.

180 But sikerly, withouten any fable,

The hors of bras, that may nat be remewed,

It stant as it were to the ground yglewed.

Ther may no man out of the place it dryve

For noon engyn of wyndas or polyve;

And cause why? For they kan nat the craft.

And therfore in the place they han it laft

Til that the knyght hath taught hem the manere

To voyden hym, as ye shal after heere.

Greet was the prees that swarmeth to and fro

190 To gauren on this hors that stondeth so,

For it so heigh was, and so brood and long,

So wel proporcioned for to been strong,

Right as it were a steede of Lumbardye;

Therwith so horsly, and so quyk of ye,

As it a gentil Poilleys courser were.

For certes, fro his tayl unto his ere

Nature ne art ne koude hym nat amende

In no degree, as al the people wende.

But everemoore hir mooste wonder was

200 How that it koude gon, and was of bras;

It was a fairye, as the peple semed.

Diverse folk diversely they demed;

As many heddes, as manye wittes ther been.

They murmureden as dooth a swarm of been,

And maden skiles after hir fantasies,

Rehersynge of thise olde poetries,

And seyden it was lyk the Pegasee,

The hors that hadde wynges for to flee;

Or elles it was the Grekes hors Synon,

210 That broghte Troie to destruccion,

As men in thise olde geestes rede.

"Myn herte," quod oon, "is everemoore in drede;

I trowe som men of armes been therinne,

That shapen hem this citee for to wynne.

It were right good that al swich thyng were knowe."

Another rowned to his felawe lowe,

And seyde, "He lyeth, for it is rather lyk

An apparence ymaad by som magyk,

As jogelours pleyen at thise feestes grete."

220 Of sondry doutes thus they jangle and trete,

As lewed peple demeth comunly

Of thynges that been maad moore subtilly

Than they kan in hir lewednesse comprehende;

They demen gladly to the badder ende.

And somme of hem wondred on the mirour,

That born was up into the maister-tour,

Hou men myghte in it swiche thynges se.

Another answerde and seyde it myghte wel be

Naturelly, by composiciouns

230 Of anglis and of slye reflexiouns,

And seyde that in Rome was swich oon.

They speken of Alocen, and Vitulon,

And Aristotle, that writen in hir lyves

Of queynte mirours and of perspectives,

As knowen they that han hir bookes herd.

And oother folk han wondred on the swerd

That wolde percen thurghout every thyng,

And fille in speche of Thelophus the kyng,

And of Achilles with his queynte spere,

240 For he koude with it bothe heele and dere,

Right in swich wise as men may with the swerd

Of which right now ye han youreselven herd.

They speken of sondry hardyng of metal,

And speke of medicynes therwithal,

And how and whanne it sholde yharded be,

Which is unknowe, algates unto me.

Tho speeke they of Canacees ryng,

And seyden alle that swich a wonder thyng

Of craft of rynges herde they nevere noon,

250 Save that he Moyses and kyng Salomon

Hadde a name of konnyng in swich art.

Thus seyn the peple and drawen hem apart.

But nathelees somme seiden that it was

Wonder to maken of fern-asshen glas,

And yet nys glas nat lyk asshen of fern;

But, for they han yknowen it so fern,

Therfore cesseth hir janglyng and hir wonder.

As soore wondren somme on cause of thonder,

On ebbe, on flood, on gossomer, and on myst,

260 And alle thyng, til that the cause is wyst.

Thus jangle they, and demen, and devyse

Til that the kyng gan fro the bord aryse.

Phebus hath laft the angle meridional,

And yet ascendynge was the beest roial,

The gentil Leon, with his Aldiran,

Whan that this Tartre kyng, Cambyuskan,

Roos fro his bord, ther as he sat ful hye.

Toforn hym gooth the loude mynstralcye

Til he cam to his chambre of parementz,

270 Ther as they sownen diverse instrumentz

That it is lyk an hevene for to heere.

Now dauncen lusty Venus children deere,

For in the Fyssh hir lady sat ful hye,

And looketh on hem with a freendly ye.

This noble kyng is set upon his trone.

This strange knyght is fet to hym ful soone,

And on the daunce he gooth with Canacee.

Heere is the revel and the jolitee

That is nat able a dul man to devyse.

280 He moste han knowen love and his servyse

And been a feestlych man as fressh as May,

That sholde yow devysen swich array.

Who koude telle yow the forme of daunces

So unkouthe, and swiche fresshe contenaunces,

Swich subtil lookyng and dissymulynges

For drede of jalouse mennes aperceyvynges?

No man but Launcelot, and he is deed.

Therfore I passe of al this lustiheed;

I sey namoore, but in this jolynesse

290 I lete hem til men to the soper dresse.

The styward bit the spices for to hye,

And eek the wyn, in al this melodye.

The usshers and the squiers been ygoon,

The spices and the wyn is come anoon.

They ete and drynke, and whan this hadde an ende,

Unto the temple, as reson was, they wende.

The service doon, they soupen al by day.

What nedeth yow rehercen hire array?

Ech man woot wel that a kynges feeste

300 Hath plentee to the meeste and to the leeste,

And deyntees mo than been in my knowyng.

At after-soper gooth this noble kyng

To seen this hors of bras, with al a route

Of lordes and of ladyes hym aboute.

Swich wondryng was ther on this hors of bras

That syn the grete sege of Troie was,

Theras men wondreden on an hors also,

Ne was ther swich a wondryng as was tho.

But fynally the kyng axeth this knyght

310 The vertu of this courser and the myght,

And preyde hym to telle his governaunce.

This hors anoon bigan to trippe and daunce,

Whan that this knyght leyde hand upon his reyne,

And seyde, "Sire, ther is namoore to seyne,

But, whan yow list to ryden anywhere,

Ye mooten trille a pyn, stant in his ere,

Which I shal yow telle bitwix us two.

Ye moote nempne hym to what place also,

Or to what contree, that yow list to ryde.

320 And whan ye come ther as yow list abyde,

Bidde hym descende, and trille another pyn,

For therin lith th' effect of al the gyn,

And he wol doun descende and doon youre wille,

And in that place he wol abyde stille.

Though al the world the contrarie hadde yswore,

He shal nat thennes been ydrawe ne ybore.

Or, if yow liste bidde hym thennes goon,

Trille this pyn, and he wol vanysshe anoon

Out of the sighte of every maner wight,

330 And come agayn, be it by day or nyght,

Whan that yow list to clepen hym ageyn

In swich a gyse as I shal to yow seyn

Bitwixe yow and me, and that ful soone.

Ride whan yow list; ther is namoore to doone."

Enformed whan the kyng was of that knyght,

And hath conceyved in his wit aright

The manere and the forme of al this thyng,

Ful glad and blithe, this noble doughty kyng

Repeireth to his revel as biforn.

340 The brydel is unto the tour yborn

And kept among his jueles leeve and deere.

The hors vanysshed, I noot in what manere,

Out of hir sighte; ye gete namoore of me.

But thus I lete in lust and jolitee

This Cambyuskan his lordes festeiynge

Til wel ny the day bigan to sprynge.

The norice of digestioun, the sleep,

Gan on hem wynke and bad hem taken keep

That muchel drynke and labour wolde han reste;

350 And with a galpyng mouth hem alle he keste,

And seyde that it was tyme to lye adoun,

For blood was in his domynacioun.

"Cherisseth blood, natures freend," quod he.

They thanken hym galpynge, by two, by thre,

And every wight gan drawe hym to his reste,

As sleep hem bad; they tooke it for the beste.

Hire dremes shul nat now been toold for me;

Ful were hire heddes of fumositee,

That causeth dreem of which ther nys no charge.

360 They slepen til that it was pryme large,

The mooste part, but it were Canacee.

She was ful mesurable, as wommen be;

For of hir fader hadde she take leve

To goon to reste soone after it was eve.

Hir liste nat appalled for to be,

Ne on the morwe unfeestlich for to se,

And slepte hire firste sleep, and thanne awook.

For swich a joye she in hir herte took

Bothe of hir queynte ryng and hire mirour,

370 That twenty tyme she changed hir colour;

And in hire sleep, right for impressioun

Of hire mirour, she hadde a visioun.

Wherfore, er that the sonne gan up glyde,

She cleped on hir maistresse hire bisyde,

And seyde that hire liste for to ryse.

Thise olde wommen that been gladly wyse,

As is hire maistresse, answerde hire anon,

And seyde, "Madame, whider wil ye goon

Thus erly, for the folk been alle on reste?"

380 "I wol," quod she, "arise, for me leste

Ne lenger for to slepe, and walke aboute."

Hire maistresse clepeth wommen a greet route,

And up they rysen, wel a ten or twelve;

Up riseth fresshe Canacee hireselve,

As rody and bright as dooth the yonge sonne,

That in the Ram is foure degrees up ronne --

Noon hyer was he whan she redy was --

And forth she walketh esily a pas,

Arrayed after the lusty seson soote

390 Lightly, for to pleye and walke on foote,

Nat but with fyve or sixe of hir meynee;

And in a trench forth in the park gooth she.

The vapour which that fro the erthe glood

Made the sonne to seme rody and brood;

But nathelees it was so fair a sighte

That it made alle hire hertes for to lighte,

What for the seson and the morwenynge,

And for the foweles that she herde synge.

For right anon she wiste what they mente

400 Right by hir song, and knew al hire entente.

The knotte why that every tale is toold,

If it be taried til that lust be coold

Of hem that han it after herkned yoore,

The savour passeth ever lenger the moore,

For fulsomnesse of his prolixitee;

And by the same resoun, thynketh me,

I sholde to the knotte condescende,

And maken of hir walkyng soone an ende.

Amydde a tree, for drye as whit as chalk,

410 As Canacee was pleyyng in hir walk,

Ther sat a faucon over hire heed ful hye,

That with a pitous voys so gan to crye

That all the wode resouned of hire cry.

Ybeten hadde she hirself so pitously

With bothe hir wynges til the rede blood

Ran endelong the tree ther-as she stood.

And evere in oon she cryde alwey and shrighte,

And with hir beek hirselven so she prighte

That ther nys tygre, ne noon so crueel beest

420 That dwelleth outher in wode or in forest,

That nolde han wept, if that he wepe koude,

For sorwe of hire, she shrighte alwey so loude.

For ther nas nevere yet no man on lyve,

If that I koude a faucon wel discryve,

That herde of swich another of fairnesse,

As wel of plumage as of gentillesse

Of shap, of al that myghte yrekened be.

A faucon peregryn thanne semed she

Of fremde land; and everemoore, as she stood,

430 She swowneth now and now for lak of blood,

Til wel neigh is she fallen fro the tree.

This faire kynges doghter, Canacee,

That on hir fynger baar the queynte ryng,

Thurgh which she understood wel every thyng

That any fowel may in his leden seyn,

And koude answeren hym in his ledene ageyn,

Hath understonde what this faucon seyde,

And wel neigh for the routhe almoost she deyde.

And to the tree she gooth ful hastily,

440 And on this faukon looketh pitously,

And heeld hir lappe abrood, for wel she wiste

The faukon moste fallen fro the twiste,

Whan that it swowned next, for lak of blood.

A longe whil to wayten hire she stood

Til atte laste she spak in this manere

Unto the hauk, as ye shal after heere:

"What is the cause, if it be for to telle,

That ye be in this furial pyne of helle?"

Quod Canacee unto this hauk above.

450 "Is this for sorwe of deeth or los of love?

For, as I trowe, thise been causes two

That causen moost a gentil herte wo;

Of oother harm it nedeth nat to speke.

For ye youreself upon yourself yow wreke,

Which proveth wel that outher ire or drede

Moot been enchesoun of youre cruel dede,

Syn that I see noon oother wight yow chace.

For love of God, as dooth youreselven grace,

Or what may been youre help? For west nor est

460 Ne saugh I nevere er now no bryd ne beest

That ferde with hymself so pitously.

Ye sle me with youre sorwe verraily,

I have of yow so greet compassioun.

For Goddes love, com fro the tree adoun;

And as I am a kynges doghter trewe,

If that I verraily the cause knewe

Of youre disese, if it lay in my myght,

I wolde amenden it er that it were nyght,

As wisly helpe me grete God of kynde!

470 And herbes shal I right ynowe yfynde

To heel with youre hurtes hastily."

Tho shrighte this faucon yet moore pitously

Than ever she dide, and fil to grounde anon,

And lith aswowne, deed and lyk a stoon,

Til Canacee hath in hire lappe hire take

Unto the tyme she gan of swough awake.

And after that she of hir swough gan breyde,

Right in hir haukes ledene thus she seyde:

"That pitee renneth soone in gentil herte,

480 Feelynge his similitude in peynes smerte,

Is preved alday, as men may it see,

As wel by werk as by auctoritee;

For gentil herte kitheth gentillesse.

I se wel that ye han of my distresse

Compassion, my faire Canacee,

Of verray wommanly benignytee

That Nature in youre principles hath set.

But for noon hope for to fare the bet,

But for to obeye unto youre herte free,

490 And for to maken othere be war by me,

As by the whelp chasted is the leon,

Right for that cause and that conclusion,

Whil that I have a leyser and a space,

Myn harm I wol confessen er I pace."

And evere, whil that oon hir sorwe tolde,

That oother weep as she to water wolde

Til that the faucon bad hire to be stille,

And, with a syk, right thus she seyde hir wille:

"Ther I was bred -- allas, that ilke day! --

500 And fostred in a roche of marbul gray

So tendrely that no thyng eyled me,

I nyste nat what was adversitee

Til I koude flee ful hye under the sky.

Tho dwelte a tercelet me faste by,

That semed welle of alle gentillesse;

Al were he ful of treson and falsnesse,

It was so wrapped under humble cheere,

And under hewe of trouthe in swich manere,

Under plesance, and under bisy peyne,

510 That no wight koude han wend he koude feyne,

So depe in greyn he dyed his coloures.

Right as a serpent hit hym under floures

Til he may seen his tyme for to byte,

Right so this god of loves ypocryte

Dooth so his cerymonyes and obeisaunces,

And kepeth in semblaunt alle his observaunces

That sownen into gentillesse of love.

As in a toumbe is al the faire above,

And under is the corps, swich as ye woot,

520 Swich was this ypocrite, bothe coold and hoot.

And in this wise he served his entente

That, save the feend, noon wiste what he mente,

Til he so longe hadde wopen and compleyned,

And many a yeer his service to me feyned,

Til that myn herte, to pitous and to nyce,

Al innocent of his crouned malice,

Forfered of his deeth, as thoughte me,

Upon his othes and his seuretee,

Graunted hym love, upon this condicioun,

530 That everemoore myn honour and renoun

Were saved, bothe privee and apert;

This is to seyn, that after his desert,

I yaf hym al myn herte and al my thoght --

God woot and he, that ootherwise noght --

And took his herte in chaunge of myn for ay.

But sooth is seyd, goon sithen many a day,

`A trewe wight and a theef thenken nat oon.'

And whan he saugh the thyng so fer ygoon

That I hadde graunted hym fully my love

540 In swich a gyse as I have seyd above,

And yeven hym my trewe herte as free

As he swoor he yaf his herte to me,

Anon this tigre, ful of doublenesse,

Fil on his knees with so devout humblesse,

With so heigh reverence, and, as by his cheere,

So lyk a gentil lovere of manere,

So ravysshed, as it semed, for the joye

That nevere Jason ne Parys of Troye --

Jason? certes, ne noon oother man

550 Syn Lameth was, that alderfirst bigan

To loven two, as writen folk biforn --

Ne nevere, syn the firste man was born,

Ne koude man, by twenty thousand part,

Countrefete the sophymes of his art,

Ne were worthy unbokelen his galoche,

Ther doublenesse or feynyng sholde approche,

Ne so koude thonke a wight as he dide me!

His manere was an hevene for to see

Til any womman, were she never so wys,

560 So peynted he and kembde at point-devys

As wel his wordes as his contenaunce.

And I so loved hym for his obeisaunce,

And for the trouthe I demed in his herte,

That if so were that any thyng hym smerte,

Al were it never so lite, and I it wiste,

Me thoughte I felte deeth myn herte twiste.

And shortly, so ferforth this thyng is went

That my wyl was his willes instrument;

This is to seyn, my wyl obeyed his wyl

570 In alle thyng, as fer as reson fil,

Kepynge the boundes of my worshipe evere.

Ne nevere hadde I thyng so lief, ne levere,

As hym, God woot, ne nevere shal namo.

"This laste lenger than a yeer or two,

That I supposed of hym noght but good.

But finally, thus atte laste it stood,

That Fortune wolde that he moste twynne

Out of that place which that I was inne.

Wher me was wo, that is no questioun;

580 I kan nat make of it discripsioun.

For o thyng dar I tellen boldely:

I knowe what is the peyne of deeth therby;

Swich harm I felte for he ne myghte bileve.

So on a day of me he took his leve,

So sorwefully eek that I wende verraily

That he had felt as muche harm as I,

Whan that I herde hym speke and saugh his hewe.

But nathelees, I thoughte he was so trewe,

And eek that he repaire sholde ageyn

590 Withinne a litel while, sooth to seyn;

And resoun wolde eek that he moste go

For his honour, as ofte it happeth so,

That I made vertu of necessitee,

And took it wel, syn that it moste be.

As I best myghte, I hidde fro hym my sorwe,

And took hym by the hond, Seint John to borwe,

And seyde hym thus: `Lo, I am youres al;

Beth swich as I to yow have been and shal.'

What he answerde, it nedeth noght reherce;

600 Who kan sey bet than he, who kan do werse?

Whan he hath al wel seyd, thanne hath he doon.

`Therfore bihoveth hire a ful long spoon

That shal ete with a feend,' thus herde I seye.

So atte laste he moste forth his weye,

And forth he fleeth til he cam ther hym leste.

Whan it cam hym to purpos for to reste,

I trowe he hadde thilke text in mynde,

That `alle thyng, repeirynge to his kynde,

Gladeth hymself;' thus seyn men, as I gesse.

610 Men loven of propre kynde newefangelnesse,

As briddes doon that men in cages fede.

For though thou nyght and day take of hem hede,

And strawe hir cage faire and softe as silk,

And yeve hem sugre, hony, breed and milk,

Yet right anon as that his dore is uppe

He with his feet wol spurne adoun his cuppe,

And to the wode he wole and wormes ete;

So newefangel been they of hire mete,

And loven novelries of propre kynde,

620 No gentillesse of blood ne may hem bynde.

"So ferde this tercelet, allas the day!

Though he were gentil born, and fressh and gay,

And goodlich for to seen, and humble and free,

He saugh upon a tyme a kyte flee,

And sodeynly he loved this kyte so

That al his love is clene fro me ago,

And hath his trouthe falsed in this wyse.

Thus hath the kyte my love in hire servyse,

And I am lorn withouten remedie!"

630 And with that word this faucon gan to crie

And swowned eft in Canacees barm.

Greet was the sorwe for the haukes harm

That Canacee and alle hir wommen made;

They nyste hou they myghte the faucon glade.

But Canacee hom bereth hire in hir lappe,

And softely in plastres gan hire wrappe,

Ther as she with hire beek hadde hurt hirselve.

Now kan nat Canacee but herbes delve

Out of the ground, and make salves newe

640 Of herbes preciouse and fyne of hewe

To heelen with this hauk. Fro day to nyght

She dooth hire bisynesse and al hire myght,

And by hire beddes heed she made a mewe

And covered it with veluettes blewe,

In signe of trouthe that is in wommen sene.

And al withoute, the mewe is peynted grene,

In which were peynted alle thise false fowles,

As ben thise tidyves, tercelettes, and owles;

Right for despit were peynted hem bisyde,

650 Pyes, on hem for to crie and chyde.

Thus lete I Canacee hir hauk kepyng;

I wol namoore as now speke of hir ryng

Til it come eft to purpos for to seyn

How that this faucon gat hire love ageyn

Repentant, as the storie telleth us,

By mediacion of Cambalus,

The kynges sone, of which I yow tolde.

But hennesforth I wol my proces holde

To speken of aventures and of batailles

660 That nevere yet was herd so grete mervailles.

First wol I telle yow of Cambyuskan,

That in his tyme many a citee wan;

And after wol I speke of Algarsif,

How that he wan Theodora to his wif,

For whom ful ofte in greet peril he was,

Ne hadde he ben holpen by the steede of bras;

And after wol I speke of Cambalo,

That faught in lystes with the bretheren two

For Canacee er that he myghte hire wynne.

670 And ther I lefte I wol ayeyn bigynne.

Appollo whirleth up his chaar so hye

Til that the god Mercurius hous, the slye --

"In feith, Squier, thow hast thee wel yquit

And gentilly. I preise wel thy wit,"

Quod the Frankeleyn, "considerynge thy yowthe,

So feelyngly thou spekest, sire, I allow the!

As to my doom, ther is noon that is heere

Of eloquence that shal be thy peere,

If that thou lyve; God yeve thee good chaunce,

680 And in vertu sende thee continuaunce,

For of thy speche I have greet deyntee.

I have a sone, and by the Trinitee,

I hadde levere than twenty pound worth lond,

Though it right now were fallen in myn hond,

He were a man of swich discrecioun

As that ye been! Fy on possessioun,

But if a man be vertuous withal!

I have my sone snybbed, and yet shal,

For he to vertu listeth nat entende;

690 But for to pleye at dees, and to despende

And lese al that he hath is his usage.

And he hath levere talken with a page

Than to comune with any gentil wight

Where he myghte lerne gentillesse aright."

"Straw for youre gentillesse!" quod oure Hoost.

"What, Frankeleyn! Pardee, sire, wel thou woost

That ech of yow moot tellen atte leste

A tale or two, or breken his biheste."

"That knowe I wel, sire," quod the Frankeleyn.

700 "I prey yow, haveth me nat in desdeyn,

Though to this man I speke a word or two."

"Telle on thy tale withouten wordes mo."

"Gladly, sire Hoost," quod he, "I wole obeye

Unto your wyl; now herkneth what I seye.

I wol yow nat contrarien in no wyse

As fer as that my wittes wol suffyse.

I prey to God that it may plesen yow;

Thanne woot I wel that it is good ynow."

THE FRANKLIN'S PROLOGUE

Thise olde gentil Britouns in hir dayes

710 Of diverse aventures maden layes,

Rymeyed in hir firste Briton tonge,

Whiche layes with hir instrumentz they songe

Or elles redden hem for hir plesaunce;

And oon of hem have I in remembraunce,

Which I shal seyn with good wyl as I kan.

But, sires, by cause I am a burel man,

At my bigynnyng first I yow biseche,

Have me excused of my rude speche.

I lerned nevere rethorik, certeyn;

720 Thyng that I speke, it moot be bare and pleyn.

I sleep nevere on the Mount of Pernaso,

Ne lerned Marcus Tullius Scithero.

Colours ne knowe I none, withouten drede,

But swiche colours as growen in the mede,

Or elles swiche as men dye or peynte.

Colours of rethoryk been to me queynte;

My spirit feeleth noght of swich mateere.

But if yow list, my tale shul ye heere.

THE FRANKLIN'S TALE

In Armorik, that called is Britayne,

730 Ther was a knyght that loved and dide his payne

To serve a lady in his beste wise;

And many a labour, many a greet emprise,

He for his lady wroghte er she were wonne.

For she was oon the faireste under sonne,

And eek therto comen of so heigh kynrede

That wel unnethes dorste this knyght, for drede,

Telle hire his wo, his peyne, and his distresse.

But atte laste she, for his worthynesse,

And namely for his meke obeysaunce,

740 Hath swich a pitee caught of his penaunce

That pryvely she fil of his accord

To take hym for hir housbonde and hir lord,

Of swich lordshipe as men han over hir wyves.

And for to lede the moore in blisse hir lyves,

Of his free wyl he swoor hire as a knyght

That nevere in al his lyf he, day ne nyght,

Ne sholde upon hym take no maistrie

Agayn hir wyl, ne kithe hire jalousie,

But hire obeye, and folwe hir wyl in al,

750 As any lovere to his lady shal,

Save that the name of soveraynetee,

That wolde he have for shame of his degree.

She thanked hym, and with ful greet humblesse

She seyde, "Sire, sith of youre gentillesse

Ye profre me to have so large a reyne,

Ne wolde nevere God bitwixe us tweyne,

As in my gilt, were outher werre or stryf.

Sire, I wol be youre humble trewe wyf --

Have heer my trouthe -- til that myn herte breste."

760 Thus been they bothe in quiete and in reste.

For o thyng, sires, saufly dar I seye,

That freendes everych oother moot obeye,

If they wol longe holden compaignye.

Love wol nat been constreyned by maistrye.

Whan maistrie comth, the God of Love anon

Beteth his wynges, and farewel, he is gon!

Love is a thyng as any spirit free.

Wommen, of kynde, desiren libertee,

And nat to been constreyned as a thral;

770 And so doon men, if I sooth seyen shal.

Looke who that is moost pacient in love,

He is at his avantage al above.

Pacience is an heigh vertu, certeyn,

For it venquysseth, as thise clerkes seyn,

Thynges that rigour sholde nevere atteyne.

For every word men may nat chide or pleyne.

Lerneth to suffre, or elles, so moot I goon,

Ye shul it lerne, wher so ye wole or noon;

For in this world, certein, ther no wight is

780 That he ne dooth or seith somtyme amys.

Ire, siknesse, or constellacioun,

Wyn, wo, or chaungynge of complexioun

Causeth ful ofte to doon amys or speken.

On every wrong a man may nat be wreken.

After the tyme moste be temperaunce

To every wight that kan on governaunce.

And therfore hath this wise, worthy knyght,

To lyve in ese, suffrance hire bihight,

And she to hym ful wisly gan to swere

790 That nevere sholde ther be defaute in here.

Heere may men seen an humble, wys accord;

Thus hath she take hir servant and hir lord --

Servant in love, and lord in mariage.

Thanne was he bothe in lordshipe and servage.

Servage? Nay, but in lordshipe above,

Sith he hath bothe his lady and his love;

His lady, certes, and his wyf also,

The which that lawe of love acordeth to.

And whan he was in this prosperitee,

800 Hoom with his wyf he gooth to his contree,

Nat fer fro Pedmark, ther his dwellyng was,

Where as he lyveth in blisse and in solas.

Who koude telle, but he hadde wedded be,

The joye, the ese, and the prosperitee

That is bitwixe an housbonde and his wyf?

A yeer and moore lasted this blisful lyf,

Til that the knyght of which I speke of thus,

That of Kayrrud was cleped Arveragus,

Shoop hym to goon and dwelle a yeer or tweyne

810 In Engelond, that cleped was eek Briteyne,

To seke in armes worshipe and honour --

For al his lust he sette in swich labour --

And dwelled there two yeer; the book seith thus.

Now wol I stynten of this Arveragus,

And speken I wole of Dorigen his wyf,

That loveth hire housbonde as hire hertes lyf.

For his absence wepeth she and siketh,

As doon thise noble wyves whan hem liketh.

She moorneth, waketh, wayleth, fasteth, pleyneth;

820 Desir of his presence hire so destreyneth

That al this wyde world she sette at noght.

Hire freendes, whiche that knewe hir hevy thoght,

Conforten hire in al that ever they may.

They prechen hire, they telle hire nyght and day

That causelees she sleeth hirself, allas!

And every confort possible in this cas

They doon to hire with al hire bisynesse,

Al for to make hire leve hire hevynesse.

By proces, as ye knowen everichoon,

830 Men may so longe graven in a stoon

Til som figure therinne emprented be.

So longe han they conforted hire til she

Receyved hath, by hope and by resoun,

The emprentyng of hire consolacioun,

Thurgh which hir grete sorwe gan aswage;

She may nat alwey duren in swich rage.

And eek Arveragus, in al this care,

Hath sent hire lettres hoom of his welfare,

And that he wol come hastily agayn;

840 Or elles hadde this sorwe hir herte slayn.

Hire freendes sawe hir sorwe gan to slake

And preyde hire on knees, for Goddes sake,

To come and romen hire in compaignye,

Awey to dryve hire derke fantasye.

And finally she graunted that requeste,

For wel she saugh that it was for the beste.

Now stood hire castel faste by the see,

And often with hire freendes walketh shee

Hire to disporte upon the bank an heigh,

850 Where as she many a ship and barge seigh

Seillynge hir cours, where as hem liste go.

But thanne was that a parcel of hire wo,

For to hirself ful ofte, "Allas!" seith she,

"Is ther no ship, of so manye as I se,

Wol bryngen hom my lord? Thanne were myn herte

Al warisshed of his bittre peynes smerte."

Another tyme ther wolde she sitte and thynke,

And caste hir eyen dounward fro the brynke.

But whan she saugh the grisly rokkes blake,

860 For verray feere so wolde hir herte quake

That on hire feet she myghte hire noght sustene.

Thanne wolde she sitte adoun upon the grene,

And pitously into the see biholde,

And seyn right thus, with sorweful sikes colde:

"Eterne God, that thurgh thy purveiaunce

Ledest the world by certein governaunce,

In ydel, as men seyn, ye no thyng make.

But, Lord, thise grisly feendly rokkes blake,

That semen rather a foul confusion

870 Of werk than any fair creacion

Of swich a parfit wys God and a stable,

Why han ye wroght this werk unresonable?

For by this werk, south, north, ne west, ne eest,

Ther nys yfostred man, ne bryd, ne beest;

It dooth no good, to my wit, but anoyeth.

Se ye nat, Lord, how mankynde it destroyeth?

An hundred thousand bodyes of mankynde

Han rokkes slayn, al be they nat in mynde,

Which mankynde is so fair part of thy werk

880 That thou it madest lyk to thyn owene merk.

Thanne semed it ye hadde a greet chiertee

Toward mankynde; but how thanne may it bee

That ye swiche meenes make it to destroyen,

Whiche meenes do no good, but evere anoyen?

I woot wel clerkes wol seyn as hem leste,

By argumentz, that al is for the beste,

Though I ne kan the causes nat yknowe.

But thilke God that made wynd to blowe

As kepe my lord! This my conclusion.

890 To clerkes lete I al disputison.

But wolde God that alle thise rokkes blake

Were sonken into helle for his sake!

Thise rokkes sleen myn herte for the feere."

Thus wolde she seyn, with many a pitous teere.

Hire freendes sawe that it was no disport

To romen by the see, but disconfort,

And shopen for to pleyen somwher elles.

They leden hire by ryveres and by welles,

And eek in othere places delitables;

900 They dauncen and they pleyen at ches and tables.

So on a day, right in the morwe-tyde,

Unto a gardyn that was ther bisyde,

In which that they hadde maad hir ordinaunce

Of vitaille and of oother purveiaunce,

They goon and pleye hem al the longe day.

And this was on the sixte morwe of May,

Which May hadde peynted with his softe shoures

This gardyn ful of leves and of floures;

And craft of mannes hand so curiously

910 Arrayed hadde this gardyn, trewely,

That nevere was ther gardyn of swich prys

But if it were the verray paradys.

The odour of floures and the fresshe sighte

Wolde han maked any herte lighte

That evere was born, but if to greet siknesse

Or to greet sorwe helde it in distresse,

So ful it was of beautee with plesaunce.

At after-dyner gonne they to daunce,

And synge also, save Dorigen allone,

920 Which made alwey hir compleint and hir moone,

For she ne saugh hym on the daunce go

That was hir housbonde and hir love also.

But nathelees she moste a tyme abyde

And with good hope lete hir sorwe slyde.

Upon this daunce, amonges othere men,

Daunced a squier biforn Dorigen,

That fressher was and jolyer of array,

As to my doom, than is the month of May.

He syngeth, daunceth, passynge any man

930 That is, or was, sith that the world bigan.

Therwith he was, if men sholde hym discryve,

Oon of the beste farynge man on lyve;

Yong, strong, right vertuous, and riche, and wys,

And wel biloved, and holden in greet prys.

And shortly, if the sothe I tellen shal,

Unwityng of this Dorigen at al,

This lusty squier, servant to Venus,

Which that ycleped was Aurelius,

Hadde loved hire best of any creature

940 Two yeer and moore, as was his aventure,

But nevere dorste he tellen hire his grevaunce.

Withouten coppe he drank al his penaunce.

He was despeyred; no thyng dorste he seye,

Save in his songes somwhat wolde he wreye

His wo, as in a general compleynyng;

He seyde he lovede and was biloved no thyng.

Of swich matere made he manye layes,

Songes, compleintes, roundels, virelayes,

How that he dorste nat his sorwe telle,

950 But langwissheth as a furye dooth in helle;

And dye he moste, he seyde, as dide Ekko

For Narcisus, that dorste nat telle hir wo.

In oother manere than ye heere me seye,

Ne dorste he nat to hire his wo biwreye,

Save that, paraventure, somtyme at daunces,

Ther yonge folk kepen hir observaunces,

It may wel be he looked on hir face

In swich a wise as man that asketh grace;

But nothyng wiste she of his entente.

960 Nathelees it happed, er they thennes wente,

By cause that he was hire neighebour,

And was a man of worshipe and honour,

And hadde yknowen hym of tyme yoore,

They fille in speche; and forth, moore and moore,

Unto his purpos drough Aurelius,

And whan he saugh his tyme, he seyde thus:

"Madame," quod he, "by God that this world made,

So that I wiste it myghte youre herte glade,

I wolde that day that youre Arveragus

970 Wente over the see, that I, Aurelius,

Hadde went ther nevere I sholde have come agayn.

For wel I woot my servyce is in vayn;

My gerdon is but brestyng of myn herte.

Madame, reweth upon my peynes smerte;

For with a word ye may me sleen or save.

Heere at youre feet God wolde that I were grave!

I ne have as now no leyser moore to seye;

Have mercy, sweete, or ye wol do me deye!"

She gan to looke upon Aurelius;

980 "Is this youre wyl," quod she, "and sey ye thus?

Nevere erst," quod she, "ne wiste I what ye mente.

But now, Aurelie, I knowe youre entente,

By thilke God that yaf me soule and lyf,

Ne shal I nevere been untrewe wyf

In word ne werk, as fer as I have wit;

I wol been his to whom that I am knyt.

Taak this for fynal answere as of me."

But after that in pley thus seyde she:

"Aurelie," quod she, "by heighe God above,

990 Yet wolde I graunte yow to been youre love,

Syn I yow se so pitously complayne.

Looke what day that endelong Britayne

Ye remoeve alle the rokkes, stoon by stoon,

That they ne lette ship ne boot to goon --

I seye, whan ye han maad the coost so clene

Of rokkes that ther nys no stoon ysene,

Thanne wol I love yow best of any man;

Have heer my trouthe, in al that evere I kan."

"Is ther noon oother grace in yow?" quod he.

1000 "No, by that Lord," quod she, "that maked me!

For wel I woot that it shal never bityde.

Lat swiche folies out of youre herte slyde.

What deyntee sholde a man han in his lyf

For to go love another mannes wyf,

That hath hir body whan so that hym liketh?"

Aurelius ful ofte soore siketh;

Wo was Aurelie whan that he this herde,

And with a sorweful herte he thus answerde:

"Madame," quod he, "this were an inpossible!

1010 Thanne moot I dye of sodeyn deth horrible."

And with that word he turned hym anon.

Tho coome hir othere freendes many oon,

And in the aleyes romeden up and doun,

And nothyng wiste of this conclusioun,

But sodeynly bigonne revel newe

Til that the brighte sonne loste his hewe;

For th' orisonte hath reft the sonne his lyght --

This is as muche to seye as it was nyght --

And hoom they goon in joye and in solas,

1020 Save oonly wrecche Aurelius, allas!

He to his hous is goon with sorweful herte.

He seeth he may nat fro his deeth asterte;

Hym semed that he felte his herte colde.

Up to the hevene his handes he gan holde,

And on his knowes bare he sette hym doun,

And in his ravyng seyde his orisoun.

For verray wo out of his wit he breyde.

He nyste what he spak, but thus he seyde;

With pitous herte his pleynt hath he bigonne

1030 Unto the goddes, and first unto the sonne:

He seyde, "Appollo, god and governour

Of every plaunte, herbe, tree, and flour,

That yevest, after thy declinacion,

To ech of hem his tyme and his seson,

As thyn herberwe chaungeth lowe or heighe,

Lord Phebus, cast thy merciable eighe

On wrecche Aurelie, which that am but lorn.

Lo, lord! My lady hath my deeth ysworn

Withoute gilt, but thy benignytee

1040 Upon my dedly herte have som pitee.

For wel I woot, lord Phebus, if yow lest,

Ye may me helpen, save my lady, best.

Now voucheth sauf that I may yow devyse

How that I may been holpen and in what wyse.

"Youre blisful suster, Lucina the sheene,

That of the see is chief goddesse and queene

(Though Neptunus have deitee in the see,

Yet emperisse aboven hym is she),

Ye knowen wel, lord, that right as hir desir

1050 Is to be quyked and lighted of youre fir,

For which she folweth yow ful bisily,

Right so the see desireth naturelly

To folwen hire, as she that is goddesse

Bothe in the see and ryveres moore and lesse.

Wherfore, lord Phebus, this is my requeste --

Do this miracle, or do myn herte breste --

That now next at this opposicion

Which in the signe shal be of the Leon,

As preieth hire so greet a flood to brynge

1060 That fyve fadme at the leeste it oversprynge

The hyeste rokke in Armorik Briteyne;

And lat this flood endure yeres tweyne.

Thanne certes to my lady may I seye,

`Holdeth youre heste, the rokkes been aweye.'

"Lord Phebus, dooth this miracle for me.

Preye hire she go no faster cours than ye;

I seye, preyeth your suster that she go

No faster cours than ye thise yeres two.

Thanne shal she been evene atte fulle alway,

1070 And spryng flood laste bothe nyght and day.

And but she vouche sauf in swich manere

To graunte me my sovereyn lady deere,

Prey hire to synken every rok adoun

Into hir owene dirke regioun

Under the ground, ther Pluto dwelleth inne,

Or nevere mo shal I my lady wynne.

Thy temple in Delphos wol I barefoot seke.

Lord Phebus, se the teeris on my cheke,

And of my peyne have som compassioun."

1080 And with that word in swowne he fil adoun,

And longe tyme he lay forth in a traunce.

His brother, which that knew of his penaunce,

Up caughte hym and to bedde he hath hym broght.

Dispeyred in this torment and this thoght

Lete I this woful creature lye;

Chese he, for me, wheither he wol lyve or dye.

Arveragus, with heele and greet honour,

As he that was of chivalrie the flour,

Is comen hoom, and othere worthy men.

1090 O blisful artow now, thou Dorigen,

That hast thy lusty housbonde in thyne armes,

The fresshe knyght, the worthy man of armes,

That loveth thee as his owene hertes lyf.

No thyng list hym to been ymaginatyf,

If any wight hadde spoke, whil he was oute,

To hire of love; he hadde of it no doute.

He noght entendeth to no swich mateere,

But daunceth, justeth, maketh hire good cheere;

And thus in joye and blisse I lete hem dwelle,

1100 And of the sike Aurelius wol I telle.

In langour and in torment furyus

Two yeer and moore lay wrecche Aurelyus,

Er any foot he myghte on erthe gon;

Ne confort in this tyme hadde he noon,

Save of his brother, which that was a clerk.

He knew of al this wo and al this werk,

For to noon oother creature, certeyn,

Of this matere he dorste no word seyn.

Under his brest he baar it moore secree

1110 Than evere dide Pamphilus for Galathee.

His brest was hool, withoute for to sene,

But in his herte ay was the arwe kene.

And wel ye knowe that of a sursanure

In surgerye is perilous the cure,

But men myghte touche the arwe or come therby.

His brother weep and wayled pryvely,

Til atte laste hym fil in remembraunce,

That whiles he was at Orliens in Fraunce --

As yonge clerkes that been lykerous

1120 To reden artes that been curious

Seken in every halke and every herne

Particuler sciences for to lerne --

He hym remembred that, upon a day,

At Orliens in studie a book he say

Of magyk natureel, which his felawe,

That was that tyme a bacheler of lawe,

Al were he ther to lerne another craft,

Hadde prively upon his desk ylaft;

Which book spak muchel of the operaciouns

1130 Touchynge the eighte and twenty mansiouns

That longen to the moone, and swich folye

As in oure dayes is nat worth a flye --

For hooly chirches feith in oure bileve

Ne suffreth noon illusioun us to greve.

And whan this book was in his remembraunce,

Anon for joye his herte gan to daunce,

And to hymself he seyde pryvely:

"My brother shal be warisshed hastily;

For I am siker that ther be sciences

1140 By whiche men make diverse apparences,

Swiche as thise subtile tregetoures pleye.

For ofte at feestes have I wel herd seye

That tregetours withinne an halle large

Have maad come in a water and a barge,

And in the halle rowen up and doun.

Somtyme hath semed come a grym leoun;

And somtyme floures sprynge as in a mede;

Somtyme a vyne, and grapes white and rede;

Somtyme a castel, al of lym and stoon;

1150 And whan hem lyked, voyded it anon.

Thus semed it to every mannes sighte.

"Now thanne conclude I thus: that if I myghte

At Orliens som oold felawe yfynde

That hadde thise moones mansions in mynde,

Or oother magyk natureel above,

He sholde wel make my brother han his love.

For with an apparence a clerk may make,

To mannes sighte, that alle the rokkes blake

Of Britaigne weren yvoyded everichon,

1160 And shippes by the brynke comen and gon,

And in swich forme enduren a wowke or two.

Thanne were my brother warisshed of his wo;

Thanne moste she nedes holden hire biheste,

Or elles he shal shame hire atte leeste."

What sholde I make a lenger tale of this?

Unto his brotheres bed he comen is,

And swich confort he yaf hym for to gon

To Orliens that he up stirte anon,

And on his wey forthward thanne is he fare

1170 In hope for to been lissed of his care.

Whan they were come almoost to that citee,

But if it were a two furlong or thre,

A yong clerk romynge by hymself they mette,

Which that in Latyn thriftily hem grette,

And after that he seyde a wonder thyng:

"I knowe," quod he, "the cause of youre comyng."

And er they ferther any foote wente,

He tolde hem al that was in hire entente.

This Briton clerk hym asked of felawes

1180 The whiche that he had knowe in olde dawes,

And he answerde hym that they dede were,

For which he weep ful ofte many a teere.

Doun of his hors Aurelius lighte anon,

And with this magicien forth is he gon

Hoom to his hous, and maden hem wel at ese.

Hem lakked no vitaille that myghte hem plese.

So wel arrayed hous as ther was oon

Aurelius in his lyf saugh nevere noon.

He shewed hym, er he wente to sopeer,

1190 Forestes, parkes ful of wilde deer;

Ther saugh he hertes with hir hornes hye,

The gretteste that evere were seyn with ye.

He saugh of hem an hondred slayn with houndes,

And somme with arwes blede of bittre woundes.

He saugh, whan voyded were thise wilde deer,

Thise fauconers upon a fair ryver,

That with hir haukes han the heron slayn.

Tho saugh he knyghtes justyng in a playn;

And after this he dide hym swich plesaunce

1200 That he hym shewed his lady on a daunce,

On which hymself he daunced, as hym thoughte.

And whan this maister that this magyk wroughte

Saugh it was tyme, he clapte his handes two,

And farewel! Al oure revel was ago.

And yet remoeved they nevere out of the hous,

Whil they saugh al this sighte merveillous,

But in his studie, ther as his bookes be,

They seten stille, and no wight but they thre.

To hym this maister called his squier,

1210 And seyde hym thus: "Is redy oure soper?

Almoost an houre it is, I undertake,

Sith I yow bad oure soper for to make,

Whan that thise worthy men wenten with me

Into my studie, ther as my bookes be."

"Sire," quod this squier, "whan it liketh yow,

It is al redy, though ye wol right now."

"Go we thanne soupe," quod he, "as for the beste.

Thise amorous folk somtyme moote han hir reste."

At after-soper fille they in tretee

1220 What somme sholde this maistres gerdon be

To remoeven alle the rokkes of Britayne,

And eek from Gerounde to the mouth of Sayne.

He made it straunge, and swoor, so God hym save,

Lasse than a thousand pound he wolde nat have,

Ne gladly for that somme he wolde nat goon.

Aurelius, with blisful herte anoon,

Answerde thus: "Fy on a thousand pound!

This wyde world, which that men seye is round,

I wolde it yeve, if I were lord of it.

1230 This bargayn is ful dryve, for we been knyt.

Ye shal be payed trewely, by my trouthe!

But looketh now, for no necligence or slouthe

Ye tarie us heere no lenger than to-morwe."

"Nay," quod this clerk, "have heer my feith to borwe."

To bedde is goon Aurelius whan hym leste,

And wel ny al that nyght he hadde his reste.

What for his labour and his hope of blisse,

His woful herte of penaunce hadde a lisse.

Upon the morwe, whan that it was day,

1240 To Britaigne tooke they the righte way,

Aurelius and this magicien bisyde,

And been descended ther they wolde abyde.

And this was, as thise bookes me remembre,

The colde, frosty seson of Decembre.

Phebus wax old, and hewed lyk laton,

That in his hoote declynacion

Shoon as the burned gold with stremes brighte;

But now in Capricorn adoun he lighte,

Where as he shoon ful pale, I dar wel seyn.

1250 The bittre frostes, with the sleet and reyn,

Destroyed hath the grene in every yerd.

Janus sit by the fyr, with double berd,

And drynketh of his bugle horn the wyn;

Biforn hym stant brawen of the tusked swyn,

And "Nowel" crieth every lusty man.

Aurelius in al that evere he kan

Dooth to this maister chiere and reverence,

And preyeth hym to doon his diligence

To bryngen hym out of his peynes smerte,

1260 Or with a swerd that he wolde slitte his herte.

This subtil clerk swich routhe had of this man

That nyght and day he spedde hym that he kan

To wayten a tyme of his conclusioun;

This is to seye, to maken illusioun,

By swich an apparence or jogelrye --

I ne kan no termes of astrologye --

That she and every wight sholde wene and seye

That of Britaigne the rokkes were aweye,

Or ellis they were sonken under grounde.

1270 So atte laste he hath his tyme yfounde

To maken his japes and his wrecchednesse

Of swich a supersticious cursednesse.

His tables Tolletanes forth he brought,

Ful wel corrected, ne ther lakked nought,

Neither his collect ne his expans yeeris,

Ne his rootes, ne his othere geeris,

As been his centris and his argumentz

And his proporcioneles convenientz

For his equacions in every thyng.

1280 And by his eighte speere in his wirkyng

He knew ful wel how fer Alnath was shove

Fro the heed of thilke fixe Aries above,

That in the ninthe speere considered is;

Ful subtilly he kalkuled al this.

Whan he hadde founde his firste mansioun,

He knew the remenaunt by proporcioun,

And knew the arisyng of his moone weel,

And in whos face, and terme, and everydeel;

And knew ful weel the moones mansioun

1290 Acordaunt to his operacioun,

And knew also his othere observaunces

For swiche illusiouns and swiche meschaunces

As hethen folk useden in thilke dayes.

For which no lenger maked he delayes,

But thurgh his magik, for a wyke or tweye,

It semed that alle the rokkes were aweye.

Aurelius, which that yet despeired is

Wher he shal han his love or fare amys,

Awaiteth nyght and day on this myracle;

1300 And whan he knew that ther was noon obstacle,

That voyded were thise rokkes everychon,

Doun to his maistres feet he fil anon,

And seyde, "I woful wrecche, Aurelius,

Thanke yow, lord, and lady myn Venus,

That me han holpen fro my cares colde."

And to the temple his wey forth hath he holde,

Where as he knew he sholde his lady see.

And whan he saugh his tyme, anon-right hee,

With dredful herte and with ful humble cheere,

1310 Salewed hath his sovereyn lady deere:

"My righte lady," quod this woful man,

"Whom I moost drede and love as I best kan,

And lothest were of al this world displese,

Nere it that I for yow have swich disese

That I moste dyen heere at youre foot anon,

Noght wolde I telle how me is wo bigon.

But certes outher moste I dye or pleyne;

Ye sle me giltelees for verray peyne.

But of my deeth thogh that ye have no routhe,

1320 Avyseth yow er that ye breke youre trouthe.

Repenteth yow, for thilke God above,

Er ye me sleen by cause that I yow love.

For, madame, wel ye woot what ye han hight --

Nat that I chalange any thyng of right

Of yow, my sovereyn lady, but youre grace --

But in a gardyn yond, at swich a place,

Ye woot right wel what ye bihighten me;

And in myn hand youre trouthe plighten ye

To love me best -- God woot, ye seyde so,

1330 Al be that I unworthy am therto.

Madame, I speke it for the honour of yow

Moore than to save myn hertes lyf right now --

I have do so as ye comanded me;

And if ye vouche sauf, ye may go see.

Dooth as yow list; have youre biheste in mynde,

For, quyk or deed, right there ye shal me fynde.

In yow lith al to do me lyve or deye --

But wel I woot the rokkes been aweye."

He taketh his leve, and she astoned stood;

1340 In al hir face nas a drope of blood.

She wende nevere han come in swich a trappe.

"Allas," quod she, "that evere this sholde happe!

For wende I nevere by possibilitee

That swich a monstre or merveille myghte be!

It is agayns the proces of nature."

And hoom she goth a sorweful creature;

For verray feere unnethe may she go.

She wepeth, wailleth, al a day or two,

And swowneth, that it routhe was to see.

1350 But why it was to no wight tolde shee,

For out of towne was goon Arveragus.

But to hirself she spak, and seyde thus,

With face pale and with ful sorweful cheere,

In hire compleynt, as ye shal after heere:

"Allas," quod she, "on thee, Fortune, I pleyne,

That unwar wrapped hast me in thy cheyne,

Fro which t' escape woot I no socour,

Save oonly deeth or elles dishonour;

Oon of thise two bihoveth me to chese.

1360 But nathelees, yet have I levere to lese

My lif than of my body to have a shame,

Or knowe myselven fals, or lese my name;

And with my deth I may be quyt, ywis.

Hath ther nat many a noble wyf er this,

And many a mayde, yslayn hirself, allas,

Rather than with hir body doon trespas?

"Yis, certes, lo, thise stories beren witnesse:

Whan thritty tirauntz, ful of cursednesse,

Hadde slayn Phidon in Atthenes atte feste,

1370 They comanded his doghtres for t' areste

And bryngen hem biforn hem in despit,

Al naked, to fulfille hir foul delit,

And in hir fadres blood they made hem daunce

Upon the pavement, God yeve hem meschaunce!

For which thise woful maydens, ful of drede,

Rather than they wolde lese hir maydenhede,

They prively been stirt into a welle

And dreynte hemselven, as the bookes telle.

"They of Mecene leete enquere and seke

1380 Of Lacedomye fifty maydens eke,

On whiche they wolden doon hir lecherye.

But was ther noon of al that compaignye

That she nas slayn, and with a good entente

Chees rather for to dye than assente

To been oppressed of hir maydenhede.

Why sholde I thanne to dye been in drede?

Lo, eek, the tiraunt Aristoclides,

That loved a mayden, heet Stymphalides,

Whan that hir fader slayn was on a nyght,

1390 Unto Dianes temple goth she right,

And hente the ymage in hir handes two,

Fro which ymage wolde she nevere go.

No wight ne myghte hir handes of it arace

Til she was slayn, right in the selve place.

"Now sith that maydens hadden swich despit

To been defouled with mannes foul delit,

Wel oghte a wyf rather hirselven slee

Than be defouled, as it thynketh me.

What shal I seyn of Hasdrubales wyf,

1400 That at Cartage birafte hirself hir lyf?

For whan she saugh that Romayns wan the toun,

She took hir children alle, and skipte adoun

Into the fyr, and chees rather to dye

Than any Romayn dide hire vileynye.

Hath nat Lucresse yslayn hirself, allas,

At Rome, whan that she oppressed was

Of Tarquyn, for hire thoughte it was a shame

To lyven whan she hadde lost hir name?

The sevene maydens of Milesie also

1410 Han slayn hemself, for verrey drede and wo,

Rather than folk of Gawle hem sholde oppresse.

Mo than a thousand stories, as I gesse,

Koude I now telle as touchynge this mateere.

Whan Habradate was slayn, his wyf so deere

Hirselven slow, and leet hir blood to glyde

In Habradates woundes depe and wyde,

And seyde, `My body, at the leeste way,

Ther shal no wight defoulen, if I may."

"What sholde I mo ensamples heerof sayn,

1420 Sith that so manye han hemselven slayn

Wel rather than they wolde defouled be?

I wol conclude that it is bet for me

To sleen myself than been defouled thus.

I wol be trewe unto Arveragus,

Or rather sleen myself in som manere,

As dide Demociones doghter deere

By cause that she wolde nat defouled be.

O Cedasus, it is ful greet pitee

To reden how thy doghtren deyde, allas,

1430 That slowe hemself for swich manere cas.

As greet a pitee was it, or wel moore,

The Theban mayden that for Nichanore

Hirselven slow, right for swich manere wo.

Another Theban mayden dide right so;

For oon of Macidonye hadde hire oppressed,

She with hire deeth hir maydenhede redressed.

What shal I seye of Nicerates wyf,

That for swich cas birafte hirself hir lyf?

How trewe eek was to Alcebiades

1440 His love, that rather for to dyen chees

Than for to suffre his body unburyed be.

Lo, which a wyf was Alceste," quod she.

"What seith Omer of goode Penalopee?

Al Grece knoweth of hire chastitee.

Pardee, of Laodomya is writen thus,

That whan at Troie was slayn Protheselaus,

Ne lenger wolde she lyve after his day.

The same of noble Porcia telle I may;

Withoute Brutus koude she nat lyve,

1450 To whom she hadde al hool hir herte yive.

The parfit wyfhod of Arthemesie

Honured is thurgh al the Barbarie.

O Teuta, queene, thy wyfly chastitee

To alle wyves may a mirour bee.

The same thyng I seye of Bilyea,

Of Rodogone, and eek Valeria."

Thus pleyned Dorigen a day or tweye,

Purposynge evere that she wolde deye.

But nathelees, upon the thridde nyght,

1460 Hoom cam Arveragus, this worthy knyght,

And asked hire why that she weep so soore;

And she gan wepen ever lenger the moore.

"Allas," quod she, "that evere was I born!

Thus have I seyd," quod she, "thus have I sworn" --

And toold hym al as ye han herd bifore;

It nedeth nat reherce it yow namoore.

This housbonde, with glad chiere, in freendly wyse

Answerde and seyde as I shal yow devyse:

"Is ther oght elles, Dorigen, but this?"

1470 "Nay, nay," quod she, "God helpe me so as wys!

This is to muche, and it were Goddes wille."

"Ye, wyf," quod he, "lat slepen that is stille.

It may be wel, paraventure, yet to day.

Ye shul youre trouthe holden, by my fay!

For God so wisly have mercy upon me,

I hadde wel levere ystiked for to be

For verray love which that I to yow have,

But if ye sholde youre trouthe kepe and save.

Trouthe is the hyeste thyng that man may kepe" --

1480 But with that word he brast anon to wepe,

And seyde, "I yow forbede, up peyne of deeth,

That nevere, whil thee lasteth lyf ne breeth,

To no wight telle thou of this aventure --

As I may best, I wol my wo endure --

Ne make no contenance of hevynesse,

That folk of yow may demen harm or gesse."

And forth he cleped a squier and a mayde:

"Gooth forth anon with Dorigen," he sayde,

"And bryngeth hire to swich a place anon."

1490 They take hir leve, and on hir wey they gon,

But they ne wiste why she thider wente.

He nolde no wight tellen his entente.

Paraventure an heep of yow, ywis,

Wol holden hym a lewed man in this

That he wol putte his wyf in jupartie.

Herkneth the tale er ye upon hire crie.

She may have bettre fortune than yow semeth;

And whan that ye han herd the tale, demeth.

This squier, which that highte Aurelius,

1500 On Dorigen that was so amorus,

Of aventure happed hire to meete

Amydde the toun, right in the quykkest strete,

As she was bown to goon the wey forth right

Toward the gardyn ther as she had hight.

And he was to the gardyn-ward also;

For wel he spyed whan she wolde go

Out of hir hous to any maner place.

But thus they mette, of aventure or grace,

And he saleweth hire with glad entente,

1510 And asked of hire whiderward she wente;

And she answerde, half as she were mad,

"Unto the gardyn, as myn housbonde bad,

My trouthe for to holde -- allas, allas!"

Aurelius gan wondren on this cas,

And in his herte hadde greet compassioun

Of hire and of hire lamentacioun,

And of Arveragus, the worthy knyght,

That bad hire holden al that she had hight,

So looth hym was his wyf sholde breke hir trouthe;

1520 And in his herte he caughte of this greet routhe,

Considerynge the beste on every syde,

That fro his lust yet were hym levere abyde

Than doon so heigh a cherlyssh wrecchednesse

Agayns franchise and alle gentillesse;

For which in fewe wordes seyde he thus:

"Madame, seyth to youre lord Arveragus

That sith I se his grete gentillesse

To yow, and eek I se wel youre distresse,

That him were levere han shame (and that were routhe)

1530 Than ye to me sholde breke thus youre trouthe,

I have wel levere evere to suffre wo

Than I departe the love bitwix yow two.

I yow relesse, madame, into youre hond

Quyt every serement and every bond

That ye han maad to me as heerbiforn,

Sith thilke tyme which that ye were born.

My trouthe I plighte, I shal yow never repreve

Of no biheste, and heere I take my leve,

As of the treweste and the beste wyf

1540 That evere yet I knew in al my lyf.

But every wyf be war of hire biheeste!

On Dorigen remembreth, atte leeste.

Thus kan a squier doon a gentil dede

As wel as kan a knyght, withouten drede."

She thonketh hym upon hir knees al bare,

And hoom unto hir housbonde is she fare,

And tolde hym al, as ye han herd me sayd;

And be ye siker, he was so weel apayd

That it were impossible me to wryte.

1550 What sholde I lenger of this cas endyte?

Arveragus and Dorigen his wyf

In sovereyn blisse leden forth hir lyf.

Nevere eft ne was ther angre hem bitwene.

He cherisseth hire as though she were a queene,

And she was to hym trewe for everemoore.

Of thise two folk ye gete of me namoore.

Aurelius, that his cost hath al forlorn,

Curseth the tyme that evere he was born:

"Allas!" quod he. "Allas, that I bihighte

1560 Of pured gold a thousand pound of wighte

Unto this philosophre! How shal I do?

I se namoore but that I am fordo.

Myn heritage moot I nedes selle,

And been a beggere; heere may I nat dwelle

And shamen al my kynrede in this place,

But I of hym may gete bettre grace.

But nathelees, I wole of hym assaye,

At certeyn dayes, yeer by yeer, to paye,

And thanke hym of his grete curteisye.

1570 My trouthe wol I kepe, I wol nat lye."

With herte soor he gooth unto his cofre,

And broghte gold unto this philosophre,

The value of fyve hundred pound, I gesse,

And hym bisecheth, of his gentillesse,

To graunte hym dayes of the remenaunt;

And seyde, "Maister, I dar wel make avaunt,

I failled nevere of my trouthe as yit.

For sikerly my dette shal be quyt

Towardes yow, howevere that I fare

1580 To goon a-begged in my kirtle bare.

But wolde ye vouche sauf, upon seuretee,

Two yeer or thre for to respiten me,

Thanne were I wel; for elles moot I selle

Myn heritage; ther is namoore to telle."

This philosophre sobrely answerde,

And seyde thus, whan he thise wordes herde:

"Have I nat holden covenant unto thee?"

"Yes, certes, wel and trewely," quod he.

"Hastow nat had thy lady as thee liketh?"

1590 "No, no," quod he, and sorwefully he siketh.

"What was the cause? Tel me if thou kan."

Aurelius his tale anon bigan,

And tolde hym al, as ye han herd bifoore;

It nedeth nat to yow reherce it moore.

He seide, "Arveragus, of gentillesse,

Hadde levere dye in sorwe and in distresse

Than that his wyf were of hir trouthe fals."

The sorwe of Dorigen he tolde hym als;

How looth hire was to been a wikked wyf,

1600 And that she levere had lost that day hir lyf,

And that hir trouthe she swoor thurgh innocence,

She nevere erst hadde herde speke of apparence.

"That made me han of hire so greet pitee;

And right as frely as he sente hire me,

As frely sente I hire to hym ageyn.

This al and som; ther is namoore to seyn."

This philosophre answerde, "Leeve brother,

Everich of yow dide gentilly til oother.

Thou art a squier, and he is a knyght;

1610 But God forbede, for his blisful myght,

But if a clerk koude doon a gentil dede

As wel as any of yow, it is no drede!

Sire, I releesse thee thy thousand pound,

As thou right now were cropen out of the ground,

Ne nevere er now ne haddest knowen me.

For, sire, I wol nat taken a peny of thee

For al my craft, ne noght for my travaille.

Thou hast ypayed wel for my vitaille.

It is ynogh, and farewel, have good day!"

1620 And took his hors, and forth he goth his way.

Lordynges, this question, thanne, wol I aske now,

Which was the mooste fre, as thynketh yow?

Now telleth me, er that ye ferther wende.

I kan namoore; my tale is at an ende.

THE PHYSICIAN'S TALE

Ther was, as telleth Titus Livius,

A knyght that called was Virginius,

Fulfild of honour and of worthynesse,

And strong of freendes, and of greet richesse.

This knyght a doghter hadde by his wyf;

No children hadde he mo in al his lyf.

Fair was this mayde in excellent beautee

Aboven every wight that man may see;

For Nature hath with sovereyn diligence

10 Yformed hire in so greet excellence,

As though she wolde seyn, "Lo! I, Nature,

Thus kan I forme and peynte a creature,

Whan that me list; who kan me countrefete?

Pigmalion noght, though he ay forge and bete,

Or grave, or peynte; for I dar wel seyn

Apelles, Zanzis, sholde werche in veyn

Outher to grave, or peynte, or forge, or bete,

If they presumed me to countrefete.

For He that is the formere principal

20 Hath maked me his vicaire general,

To forme and peynten erthely creaturis

Right as me list, and ech thyng in my cure is

Under the moone, that may wane and waxe,

And for my werk right no thyng wol I axe;

My lord and I been ful of oon accord.

I made hire to the worshipe of my lord;

So do I alle myne othere creatures,

What colour that they han or what figures."

Thus semeth me that Nature wolde seye.

30 This mayde of age twelve yeer was and tweye,

In which that Nature hadde swich delit.

For right as she kan peynte a lilie whit,

And reed a rose, right with swich peynture

She peynted hath this noble creature,

Er she were born, upon hir lymes fre,

Where as by right swiche colours sholde be;

And Phebus dyed hath hire tresses grete

Lyk to the stremes of his burned heete.

And if that excellent was hire beautee,

40 A thousand foold moore vertuous was she.

In hire ne lakked no condicioun

That is to preyse, as by discrecioun.

As wel in goost as body chast was she,

For which she floured in virginitee

With alle humylitee and abstinence,

With alle attemperaunce and pacience,

With mesure eek of beryng and array.

Discreet she was in answeryng alway;

Though she were wis as Pallas, dar I seyn,

50 Hir facound eek ful wommanly and pleyn,

No countrefeted termes hadde she

To seme wys, but after hir degree

She spak, and alle hire wordes, moore and lesse,

Sownynge in vertu and in gentillesse.

Shamefast she was in maydens shamefastnesse,

Constant in herte, and evere in bisynesse

To dryve hire out of ydel slogardye.

Bacus hadde of hir mouth right no maistrie;

For wyn and youthe dooth Venus encresse,

60 As men in fyr wol casten oille or greesse.

And of hir owene vertu, unconstreyned,

She hath ful ofte tyme syk hire feyned,

For that she wolde fleen the compaignye

Where likly was to treten of folye,

As is at feestes, revels, and at daunces,

That been occasions of daliaunces.

Swich thynges maken children for to be

To soone rype and boold, as men may se,

Which is ful perilous and hath been yoore.

70 For al to soone may she lerne loore

Of booldnesse, whan she woxen is a wyf.

And ye maistresses, in youre olde lyf,

That lordes doghtres han in governaunce,

Ne taketh of my wordes no displesaunce.

Thenketh that ye been set in governynges

Of lordes doghtres oonly for two thynges:

Outher for ye han kept youre honestee,

Or elles ye han falle in freletee,

And knowen wel ynough the olde daunce,

80 And han forsaken fully swich meschaunce

For everemo; therfore, for Cristes sake,

To teche hem vertu looke that ye ne slake.

A theef of venysoun, that hath forlaft

His likerousnesse and al his olde craft,

Kan kepe a forest best of any man.

Now kepeth wel, for if ye wole, ye kan.

Looke wel that ye unto no vice assente,

Lest ye be dampned for youre wikke entente;

For whoso dooth, a traitour is, certeyn.

90 And taketh kep of that that I shal seyn:

Of alle tresons sovereyn pestilence

Is whan a wight bitrayseth innocence.

Ye fadres and ye moodres eek also,

Though ye han children, be it oon or mo,

Youre is the charge of al hir surveiaunce,

Whil that they been under youre governaunce.

Beth war, if by ensample of youre lyvynge,

Or by youre necligence in chastisynge,

That they ne perisse; for I dar wel seye

100 If that they doon, ye shul it deere abeye.

Under a shepherde softe and necligent

The wolf hath many a sheep and lamb torent.

Suffiseth oon ensample now as heere,

For I moot turne agayn to my matere.

This mayde, of which I wol this tale expresse,

So kepte hirself hir neded no maistresse,

For in hir lyvyng maydens myghten rede,

As in a book, every good word or dede

That longeth to a mayden vertuous,

110 She was so prudent and so bountevous.

For which the fame out sprong on every syde,

Bothe of hir beautee and hir bountee wyde,

That thurgh that land they preised hire echone

That loved vertu, save Envye allone,

That sory is of oother mennes wele

And glad is of his sorwe and his unheele.

(The Doctour maketh this descripcioun.)

This mayde upon a day wente in the toun

Toward a temple, with hire mooder deere,

120 As is of yonge maydens the manere.

Now was ther thanne a justice in that toun,

That governour was of that regioun.

And so bifel this juge his eyen caste

Upon this mayde, avysynge hym ful faste,

As she cam forby ther as this juge stood.

Anon his herte chaunged and his mood,

So was he caught with beautee of this mayde,

And to hymself ful pryvely he sayde,

"This mayde shal be myn, for any man!"

130 Anon the feend into his herte ran,

And taughte hym sodeynly that he by slyghte

The mayden to his purpos wynne myghte.

For certes, by no force ne by no meede,

Hym thoughte, he was nat able for to speede;

For she was strong of freendes, and eek she

Confermed was in swich soverayn bountee

That wel he wiste he myghte hire nevere wynne

As for to make hire with hir body synne.

For which, by greet deliberacioun,

140 He sente after a cherl, was in the toun,

Which that he knew for subtil and for boold.

This juge unto this cherl his tale hath toold

In secree wise, and made hym to ensure

He sholde telle it to no creature,

And if he dide, he sholde lese his heed.

Whan that assented was this cursed reed,

Glad was this juge, and maked him greet cheere,

And yaf hym yiftes preciouse and deere.

Whan shapen was al hire conspiracie

150 Fro point to point, how that his lecherie

Parfourned sholde been ful subtilly,

As ye shul heere it after openly,

Hoom gooth the cherl, that highte Claudius.

This false juge, that highte Apius,

(So was his name, for this is no fable,

But knowen for historial thyng notable;

The sentence of it sooth is, out of doute),

This false juge gooth now faste aboute

To hasten his delit al that he may.

160 And so bifel soone after, on a day,

This false juge, as telleth us the storie,

As he was wont, sat in his consistorie,

And yaf his doomes upon sondry cas.

This false cherl cam forth a ful greet pas,

And seyde, "Lord, if that it be youre wille,

As dooth me right upon this pitous bille,

In which I pleyne upon Virginius;

And if that he wol seyn it is nat thus,

I wol it preeve, and fynde good witnesse,

170 That sooth is that my bille wol expresse."

The juge answerde, "Of this, in his absence,

I may nat yeve diffynytyf sentence.

Lat do hym calle, and I wol gladly heere;

Thou shalt have al right, and no wrong heere."

Virginius cam to wite the juges wille,

And right anon was rad this cursed bille;

The sentence of it was as ye shul heere:

"To yow, my lord, sire Apius so deere,

Sheweth youre povre servant Claudius

180 How that a knyght, called Virginius,

Agayns the lawe, agayn al equitee,

Holdeth, expres agayn the wyl of me,

My servant, which that is my thral by right,

Which fro myn hous was stole upon a nyght,

Whil that she was ful yong; this wol I preeve

By witnesse, lord, so that it nat yow greeve.

She nys his doghter nat, what so he seye.

Wherfore to yow, my lord the juge, I preye,

Yeld me my thral, if that it be youre wille."

190 Lo, this was al the sentence of his bille.

Virginius gan upon the cherl biholde,

But hastily, er he his tale tolde,

And wolde have preeved it as sholde a knyght,

And eek by witnessyng of many a wight,

That al was fals that seyde his adversarie,

This cursed juge wolde no thyng tarie,

Ne heere a word moore of Virginius,

But yaf his juggement, and seyde thus:

"I deeme anon this cherl his servant have;

200 Thou shalt no lenger in thyn hous hir save.

Go bryng hire forth, and put hire in oure warde.

The cherl shal have his thral, this I awarde."

And whan this worthy knyght Virginius

Thurgh sentence of this justice Apius

Moste by force his deere doghter yiven

Unto the juge, in lecherie to lyven,

He gooth hym hoom, and sette him in his halle,

And leet anon his deere doghter calle,

And with a face deed as asshen colde

210 Upon hir humble face he gan biholde,

With fadres pitee stikynge thurgh his herte,

Al wolde he from his purpos nat converte.

"Doghter," quod he, "Virginia, by thy name,

Ther been two weyes, outher deeth or shame,

That thou most suffre; allas, that I was bore!

For nevere thou deservedest wherfore

To dyen with a swerd or with a knyf.

O deere doghter, endere of my lyf,

Which I have fostred up with swich plesaunce

220 That thou were nevere out of my remembraunce!

O doghter, which that art my laste wo,

And in my lyf my laste joye also,

O gemme of chastitee, in pacience

Take thou thy deeth, for this is my sentence.

For love, and nat for hate, thou most be deed;

My pitous hand moot smyten of thyn heed.

Allas, that evere Apius the say!

Thus hath he falsly jugged the to-day" --

And tolde hire al the cas, as ye bifore

230 Han herd; nat nedeth for to telle it moore.

"O mercy, deere fader!" quod this mayde,

And with that word she bothe hir armes layde

Aboute his nekke, as she was wont to do.

The teeris bruste out of hir eyen two,

And seyde, "Goode fader, shal I dye?

Is ther no grace, is ther no remedye?"

"No, certes, deere doghter myn," quod he.

"Thanne yif me leyser, fader myn," quod she,

"My deeth for to compleyne a litel space;

240 For, pardee, Jepte yaf his doghter grace

For to compleyne, er he hir slow, allas!

And, God it woot, no thyng was hir trespas,

But for she ran hir fader first to see,

To welcome hym with greet solempnitee."

And with that word she fil aswowne anon,

And after, whan hir swownyng is agon,

She riseth up, and to hir fader sayde,

"Blissed be God that I shal dye a mayde!

Yif me my deeth, er that I have a shame;

250 Dooth with youre child youre wyl, a Goddes name!"

And with that word she preyed hym ful ofte

That with his swerd he wolde smyte softe;

And with that word aswowne doun she fil.

Hir fader, with ful sorweful herte and wil,

Hir heed of smoot, and by the top it hente,

And to the juge he gan it to presente,

As he sat yet in doom in consistorie.

And whan the juge it saugh, as seith the storie,

He bad to take hym and anhange hym faste;

260 But right anon a thousand peple in thraste,

To save the knyght, for routhe and for pitee,

For knowen was the false iniquitee.

The peple anon had suspect in this thyng,

By manere of the cherles chalangyng,

That it was by the assent of Apius;

They wisten wel that he was lecherus.

For which unto this Apius they gon

And caste hym in a prisoun right anon,

Ther as he slow hymself; and Claudius,

270 That servant was unto this Apius,

Was demed for to hange upon a tree,

But that Virginius, of his pitee,

So preyde for hym that he was exiled;

And elles, certes, he had been bigyled.

The remenant were anhanged, moore and lesse,

That were consentant of this cursednesse.

Heere may men seen how synne hath his merite.

Beth war, for no man woot whom God wol smyte

In no degree, ne in which manere wyse;

280 The worm of conscience may agryse

Of wikked lyf, though it so pryvee be

That no man woot therof but God and he.

For be he lewed man, or ellis lered,

He noot how soone that he shal been afered.

Therfore I rede yow this conseil take:

Forsaketh synne, er synne yow forsake.

THE PARDONER'S INTRODUCTION AND PROLOGUE

Oure Hooste gan to swere as he were wood;

"Harrow!" quod he, "by nayles and by blood!

This was a fals cherl and a fals justise.

290 As shameful deeth as herte may devyse

Come to thise juges and hire advocatz!

Algate this sely mayde is slayn, allas!

Allas, to deere boughte she beautee!

Wherfore I seye al day that men may see

That yiftes of Fortune and of Nature

Been cause of deeth to many a creature.

Hire beautee was hire deth, I dar wel sayn.

Allas, so pitously as she was slayn!

Of bothe yiftes that I speke of now

300 Men han ful ofte moore for harm than prow.

But trewely, myn owene maister deere,

This is a pitous tale for to heere.

But nathelees, passe over; is no fors.

I pray to God so save thy gentil cors,

And eek thyne urynals and thy jurdones,

Thyn ypocras, and eek thy galiones,

And every boyste ful of thy letuarie;

God blesse hem, and oure lady Seinte Marie!

So moot I theen, thou art a propre man,

310 And lyk a prelat, by Seint Ronyan!

Seyde I nat wel? I kan nat speke in terme;

But wel I woot thou doost myn herte to erme,

That I almoost have caught a cardynacle.

By corpus bones! but I have triacle,

Or elles a draughte of moyste and corny ale,

Or but I heere anon a myrie tale,

Myn herte is lost for pitee of this mayde.

Thou beel amy, thou Pardoner," he sayde,

"Telle us som myrthe or japes right anon."

320 "It shal be doon," quod he, "by Seint Ronyon!

But first," quod he, "heere at this alestake

I wol bothe drynke and eten of a cake."

But right anon thise gentils gonne to crye,

"Nay, lat hym telle us of no ribaudye!

Telle us som moral thyng, that we may leere

Som wit, and thanne wol we gladly heere."

"I graunte, ywis," quod he, "but I moot thynke

Upon som honest thyng while that I drynke."

"Lordynges," quod he, "in chirches whan I preche,

330 I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche,

And rynge it out as round as gooth a belle,

For I kan al by rote that I telle.

My theme is alwey oon, and evere was --

Radix malorum est Cupiditas.

"First I pronounce whennes that I come,

And thanne my bulles shewe I, alle and some.

Oure lige lordes seel on my patente,

That shewe I first, my body to warente,

That no man be so boold, ne preest ne clerk,

340 Me to destourbe of Cristes hooly werk.

And after that thanne telle I forth my tales;

Bulles of popes and of cardynales,

Of patriarkes and bishopes I shewe,

And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe,

To saffron with my predicacioun,

And for to stire hem to devocioun.

Thanne shewe I forth my longe cristal stones,

Ycrammed ful of cloutes and of bones --

Relikes been they, as wenen they echoon.

350 Thanne have I in latoun a sholder-boon

Which that was of an hooly Jewes sheep.

`Goode men,' I seye, `taak of my wordes keep;

If that this boon be wasshe in any welle,

If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swelle

That any worm hath ete, or worm ystonge,

Taak water of that welle and wassh his tonge,

And it is hool anon; and forthermoore,

Of pokkes and of scabbe, and every soore

Shal every sheep be hool that of this welle

360 Drynketh a draughte. Taak kep eek what I telle:

If that the good-man that the beestes oweth

Wol every wyke, er that the cok hym croweth,

Fastynge, drynken of this welle a draughte,

As thilke hooly Jew oure eldres taughte,

His beestes and his stoor shal multiplie.

`And, sires, also it heeleth jalousie;

For though a man be falle in jalous rage,

Lat maken with this water his potage,

And nevere shal he moore his wyf mystriste,

370 Though he the soothe of hir defaute wiste,

Al had she taken prestes two or thre.

`Heere is a miteyn eek, that ye may se.

He that his hand wol putte in this mitayn,

He shal have multipliyng of his grayn,

Whan he hath sowen, be it whete or otes,

So that he offre pens, or elles grotes.

`Goode men and wommen, o thyng warne I yow:

If any wight be in this chirche now

That hath doon synne horrible, that he

380 Dar nat, for shame, of it yshryven be,

Or any womman, be she yong or old,

That hath ymaked hir housbonde cokewold,

Swich folk shal have no power ne no grace

To offren to my relikes in this place.

And whoso fyndeth hym out of swich blame,

He wol come up and offre a Goddes name,

And I assoille him by the auctoritee

Which that by bulle ygraunted was to me.'

"By this gaude have I wonne, yeer by yeer,

390 An hundred mark sith I was pardoner.

I stonde lyk a clerk in my pulpet,

And whan the lewed peple is doun yset,

I preche so as ye han herd bifoore

And telle an hundred false japes moore.

Thanne peyne I me to strecche forth the nekke,

And est and west upon the peple I bekke,

As dooth a dowve sittynge on a berne.

Myne handes and my tonge goon so yerne

That it is joye to se my bisynesse.

400 Of avarice and of swich cursednesse

Is al my prechyng, for to make hem free

To yeven hir pens, and namely unto me.

For myn entente is nat but for to wynne,

And nothyng for correccioun of synne.

I rekke nevere, whan that they been beryed,

Though that hir soules goon a-blakeberyed!

For certes, many a predicacioun

Comth ofte tyme of yvel entencioun;

Som for plesance of folk and flaterye,

410 To been avaunced by ypocrisye,

And som for veyne glorie, and som for hate.

For whan I dar noon oother weyes debate,

Thanne wol I stynge hym with my tonge smerte

In prechyng, so that he shal nat asterte

To been defamed falsly, if that he

Hath trespased to my bretheren or to me.

For though I telle noght his propre name,

Men shal wel knowe that it is the same,

By signes, and by othere circumstances.

420 Thus quyte I folk that doon us displesances;

Thus spitte I out my venym under hewe

Of hoolynesse, to semen hooly and trewe.

"But shortly myn entente I wol devyse:

I preche of no thyng but for coveityse.

Therfore my theme is yet, and evere was,

Radix malorum est Cupiditas.

Thus kan I preche agayn that same vice

Which that I use, and that is avarice.

But though myself be gilty in that synne,

430 Yet kan I maken oother folk to twynne

From avarice and soore to repente.

But that is nat my principal entente;

I preche nothyng but for coveitise.

Of this mateere it oghte ynogh suffise.

"Thanne telle I hem ensamples many oon

Of olde stories longe tyme agoon.

For lewed peple loven tales olde;

Swiche thynges kan they wel reporte and holde.

What, trowe ye, that whiles I may preche,

440 And wynne gold and silver for I teche,

That I wol lyve in poverte wilfully?

Nay, nay, I thoghte it nevere, trewely!

For I wol preche and begge in sondry landes;

I wol nat do no labour with myne handes,

Ne make baskettes and lyve therby,

By cause I wol nat beggen ydelly.

I wol noon of the apostles countrefete;

I wol have moneie, wolle, chese, and whete,

Al were it yeven of the povereste page,

450 Or of the povereste wydwe in a village,

Al sholde hir children sterve for famyne.

Nay, I wol drynke licour of the vyne

And have a joly wenche in every toun.

But herkneth, lordynges, in conclusioun:

Youre likyng is that I shal telle a tale.

Now have I dronke a draughte of corny ale,

By God, I hope I shal yow telle a thyng

That shal by reson been at youre likyng.

For though myself be a ful vicious man,

460 A moral tale yet I yow telle kan,

Which I am wont to preche for to wynne.

Now hoold youre pees! My tale I wol bigynne."

THE PARDONER'S TALE

In Flaundres whilom was a compaignye

Of yonge folk that haunteden folye,

As riot, hasard, stywes, and tavernes,

Where as with harpes, lutes, and gyternes,

They daunce and pleyen at dees bothe day and nyght,

And eten also and drynken over hir myght,

Thurgh which they doon the devel sacrifise

470 Withinne that develes temple in cursed wise

By superfluytee abhomynable.

Hir othes been so grete and so dampnable

That it is grisly for to heere hem swere.

Oure blissed Lordes body they totere --

Hem thoughte that Jewes rente hym noght ynough --

And ech of hem at otheres synne lough.

And right anon thanne comen tombesteres

Fetys and smale, and yonge frutesteres,

Syngeres with harpes, baudes, wafereres,

480 Whiche been the verray develes officeres

To kyndle and blowe the fyr of lecherye,

That is annexed unto glotonye.

The hooly writ take I to my witnesse

That luxurie is in wyn and dronkenesse.

Lo, how that dronken Looth, unkyndely,

Lay by his doghtres two, unwityngly;

So dronke he was, he nyste what he wroghte.

Herodes, whoso wel the stories soghte,

Whan he of wyn was repleet at his feeste,

490 Right at his owene table he yaf his heeste

To sleen the Baptist John, ful giltelees.

Senec seith a good word doutelees;

He seith he kan no difference fynde

Bitwix a man that is out of his mynde

And a man which that is dronkelewe,

But that woodnesse, yfallen in a shrewe,

Persevereth lenger than doth dronkenesse.

O glotonye, ful of cursednesse!

O cause first of oure confusioun!

500 O original of oure dampnacioun,

Til Crist hadde boght us with his blood agayn!

Lo, how deere, shortly for to sayn,

Aboght was thilke cursed vileynye!

Corrupt was al this world for glotonye.

Adam oure fader, and his wyf also,

Fro Paradys to labour and to wo

Were dryven for that vice, it is no drede.

For whil that Adam fasted, as I rede,

He was in Paradys; and whan that he

510 Eet of the fruyt deffended on the tree,

Anon he was out cast to wo and peyne.

O glotonye, on thee wel oghte us pleyne!

O, wiste a man how manye maladyes

Folwen of excesse and of glotonyes,

He wolde been the moore mesurable

Of his diete, sittynge at his table.

Allas, the shorte throte, the tendre mouth,

Maketh that est and west and north and south,

In erthe, in eir, in water, men to swynke

520 To gete a glotoun deyntee mete and drynke!

Of this matiere, O Paul, wel kanstow trete:

"Mete unto wombe, and wombe eek unto mete,

Shal God destroyen bothe," as Paulus seith.

Allas, a foul thyng is it, by my feith,

To seye this word, and fouler is the dede,

Whan man so drynketh of the white and rede

That of his throte he maketh his pryvee

Thurgh thilke cursed superfluitee.

The apostel wepyng seith ful pitously,

530 "Ther walken manye of whiche yow toold have I --

I seye it now wepyng, with pitous voys --

They been enemys of Cristes croys,

Of whiche the ende is deeth; wombe is hir god!"

O wombe! O bely! O stynkyng cod,

Fulfilled of dong and of corrupcioun!

At either ende of thee foul is the soun.

How greet labour and cost is thee to fynde!

Thise cookes, how they stampe, and streyne, and grynde,

And turnen substaunce into accident

540 To fulfille al thy likerous talent!

Out of the harde bones knokke they

The mary, for they caste noght awey

That may go thurgh the golet softe and swoote.

Of spicerie of leef, and bark, and roote

Shal been his sauce ymaked by delit,

To make hym yet a newer appetit.

But, certes, he that haunteth swiche delices

Is deed, whil that he lyveth in tho vices.

A lecherous thyng is wyn, and dronkenesse

550 Is ful of stryvyng and of wrecchednesse.

O dronke man, disfigured is thy face,

Sour is thy breeth, foul artow to embrace,

And thurgh thy dronke nose semeth the soun

As though thou seydest ay "Sampsoun, Sampsoun!"

And yet, God woot, Sampsoun drank nevere no wyn.

Thou fallest as it were a styked swyn;

Thy tonge is lost, and al thyn honeste cure,

For dronkenesse is verray sepulture

Of mannes wit and his discrecioun.

560 In whom that drynke hath dominacioun

He kan no conseil kepe; it is no drede.

Now kepe yow fro the white and fro the rede,

And namely fro the white wyn of Lepe

That is to selle in Fysshstrete or in Chepe.

This wyn of Spaigne crepeth subtilly

In othere wynes, growynge faste by,

Of which ther ryseth swich fumositee

That whan a man hath dronken draughtes thre,

And weneth that he be at hoom in Chepe,

570 He is in Spaigne, right at the toune of Lepe --

Nat at the Rochele, ne at Burdeux toun --

And thanne wol he seye "Sampsoun, Sampsoun!"

But herkneth, lordynges, o word, I yow preye,

That alle the sovereyn actes, dar I seye,

Of victories in the Olde Testament,

Thurgh verray God, that is omnipotent,

Were doon in abstinence and in preyere.

Looketh the Bible, and ther ye may it leere.

Looke, Attilla, the grete conquerour,

580 Deyde in his sleep, with shame and dishonour,

Bledynge ay at his nose in dronkenesse.

A capitayn sholde lyve in sobrenesse.

And over al this, avyseth yow right wel

What was comaunded unto Lamuel --

Nat Samuel, but Lamuel, seye I;

Redeth the Bible, and fynde it expresly

Of wyn-yevyng to hem that han justise.

Namoore of this, for it may wel suffise.

And now that I have spoken of glotonye,

590 Now wol I yow deffenden hasardrye.

Hasard is verray mooder of lesynges,

And of deceite, and cursed forswerynges,

Blaspheme of Crist, manslaughtre, and wast also

Of catel and of tyme; and forthermo,

It is repreeve and contrarie of honour

For to ben holde a commune hasardour.

And ever the hyer he is of estaat,

The moore is he yholden desolaat.

If that a prynce useth hasardrye,

600 In alle governaunce and policye

He is, as by commune opinioun,

Yholde the lasse in reputacioun.

Stilboun, that was a wys embassadour,

Was sent to Corynthe in ful greet honour

Fro Lacidomye to make hire alliaunce.

And whan he cam, hym happede, par chaunce,

That alle the gretteste that were of that lond,

Pleyynge atte hasard he hem fond.

For which, as soone as it myghte be,

610 He stal hym hoom agayn to his contree,

And seyde, "Ther wol I nat lese my name,

Ne I wol nat take on me so greet defame,

Yow for to allie unto none hasardours.

Sendeth othere wise embassadours;

For, by my trouthe, me were levere dye

Than I yow sholde to hasardours allye.

For ye, that been so glorious in honours,

Shul nat allyen yow with hasardours

As by my wyl, ne as by my tretee."

620 This wise philosophre, thus seyde hee.

Looke eek that to the kyng Demetrius

The kyng of Parthes, as the book seith us,

Sente him a paire of dees of gold in scorn,

For he hadde used hasard ther-biforn;

For which he heeld his glorie or his renoun

At no value or reputacioun.

Lordes may fynden oother maner pley

Honest ynough to dryve the day awey.

Now wol I speke of othes false and grete

630 A word or two, as olde bookes trete.

Gret sweryng is a thyng abhominable,

And fals sweryng is yet moore reprevable.

The heighe God forbad sweryng at al,

Witnesse on Mathew; but in special

Of sweryng seith the hooly Jeremye,

"Thou shalt swere sooth thyne othes, and nat lye,

And swere in doom and eek in rightwisnesse";

But ydel sweryng is a cursednesse.

Bihoold and se that in the firste table

640 Of heighe Goddes heestes honurable,

Hou that the seconde heeste of hym is this:

"Take nat my name in ydel or amys."

Lo, rather he forbedeth swich sweryng

Than homycide or many a cursed thyng;

I seye that, as by ordre, thus it stondeth;

This knoweth, that his heestes understondeth,

How that the seconde heeste of God is that.

And forther over, I wol thee telle al plat

That vengeance shal nat parten from his hous

650 That of his othes is to outrageous.

"By Goddes precious herte," and "By his nayles,"

And "By the blood of Crist that is in Hayles,

Sevene is my chaunce, and thyn is cynk and treye!"

"By Goddes armes, if thou falsly pleye,

This daggere shal thurghout thyn herte go!" --

This fruyt cometh of the bicched bones two,

Forsweryng, ire, falsnesse, homycide.

Now, for the love of Crist, that for us dyde,

Lete youre othes, bothe grete and smale.

660 But, sires, now wol I telle forth my tale.

Thise riotoures thre of whiche I telle,

Longe erst er prime rong of any belle,

Were set hem in a taverne to drynke,

And as they sat, they herde a belle clynke

Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave.

That oon of hem gan callen to his knave:

"Go bet," quod he, "and axe redily

What cors is this that passeth heer forby;

And looke that thou reporte his name weel."

670 "Sire," quod this boy, "it nedeth never-a-deel;

It was me toold er ye cam heer two houres.

He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres,

And sodeynly he was yslayn to-nyght,

Fordronke, as he sat on his bench upright.

Ther cam a privee theef men clepeth Deeth,

That in this contree al the peple sleeth,

And with his spere he smoot his herte atwo,

And wente his wey withouten wordes mo.

He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence.

680 And, maister, er ye come in his presence,

Me thynketh that it were necessarie

For to be war of swich an adversarie.

Beth redy for to meete hym everemoore;

Thus taughte me my dame; I sey namoore."

"By Seinte Marie!" seyde this taverner,

"The child seith sooth, for he hath slayn this yeer,

Henne over a mile, withinne a greet village,

Bothe man and womman, child, and hyne, and page;

I trowe his habitacioun be there.

690 To been avysed greet wysdom it were,

Er that he dide a man a dishonour."

"Ye, Goddes armes!" quod this riotour,

"Is it swich peril with hym for to meete?

I shal hym seke by wey and eek by strete,

I make avow to Goddes digne bones!

Herkneth, felawes, we thre been al ones;

Lat ech of us holde up his hand til oother,

And ech of us bicomen otheres brother,

And we wol sleen this false traytour Deeth.

700 He shal be slayn, he that so manye sleeth,

By Goddes dignitee, er it be nyght!"

Togidres han thise thre hir trouthes plight

To lyve and dyen ech of hem for oother,

As though he were his owene ybore brother.

And up they stirte, al dronken in this rage,

And forth they goon towardes that village

Of which the taverner hadde spoke biforn.

And many a grisly ooth thanne han they sworn,

And Cristes blessed body they torente --

710 Deeth shal be deed, if that they may hym hente!

Whan they han goon nat fully half a mile,

Right as they wolde han troden over a stile,

An oold man and a povre with hem mette.

This olde man ful mekely hem grette,

And seyde thus, "Now, lordes, God yow see!"

The proudeste of thise riotoures three

Answerde agayn, "What, carl, with sory grace!

Why artow al forwrapped save thy face?

Why lyvestow so longe in so greet age?"

720 This olde man gan looke in his visage,

And seyde thus: "For I ne kan nat fynde

A man, though that I walked into Ynde,

Neither in citee ne in no village,

That wolde chaunge his youthe for myn age;

And therfore moot I han myn age stille,

As longe tyme as it is Goddes wille.

Ne Deeth, allas, ne wol nat han my lyf.

Thus walke I, lyk a restelees kaityf,

And on the ground, which is my moodres gate,

730 I knokke with my staf, bothe erly and late,

And seye `Leeve mooder, leet me in!

Lo how I vanysshe, flessh, and blood, and skyn!

Allas, whan shul my bones been at reste?

Mooder, with yow wolde I chaunge my cheste

That in my chambre longe tyme hath be,

Ye, for an heyre clowt to wrappe me!'

But yet to me she wol nat do that grace,

For which ful pale and welked is my face.

"But, sires, to yow it is no curteisye

740 To speken to an old man vileynye,

But he trespasse in word or elles in dede.

In Hooly Writ ye may yourself wel rede:

`Agayns an oold man, hoor upon his heed,

Ye sholde arise;' wherfore I yeve yow reed,

Ne dooth unto an oold man noon harm now,

Namoore than that ye wolde men did to yow

In age, if that ye so longe abyde.

And God be with yow, where ye go or ryde!

I moot go thider as I have to go."

750 "Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shalt nat so,"

Seyde this oother hasardour anon;

"Thou partest nat so lightly, by Seint John!

Thou spak right now of thilke traytour Deeth.

That in this contree alle oure freendes sleeth.

Have heer my trouthe, as thou art his espye,

Telle where he is or thou shalt it abye,

By God and by the hooly sacrement!

For soothly thou art oon of his assent

To sleen us yonge folk, thou false theef!"

760 "Now, sires," quod he, "if that yow be so leef

To fynde Deeth, turne up this croked wey,

For in that grove I lafte hym, by my fey,

Under a tree, and there he wole abyde;

Noght for youre boost he wole him no thyng hyde.

Se ye that ook? Right there ye shal hym fynde.

God save yow, that boghte agayn mankynde,

And yow amende!" Thus seyde this olde man;

And everich of thise riotoures ran

Til he cam to that tree, and ther they founde

770 Of floryns fyne of gold ycoyned rounde

Wel ny an eighte busshels, as hem thoughte.

No lenger thanne after Deeth they soughte,

But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte,

For that the floryns been so faire and brighte,

That doun they sette hem by this precious hoord.

The worste of hem, he spak the firste word.

"Bretheren," quod he, "taak kep what that I seye;

My wit is greet, though that I bourde and pleye.

This tresor hath Fortune unto us yiven

780 In myrthe and joliftee oure lyf to lyven,

And lightly as it comth, so wol we spende.

Ey, Goddes precious dignitee! Who wende

To-day that we sholde han so fair a grace?

But myghte this gold be caried fro this place

Hoom to myn hous, or elles unto youres --

For wel ye woot that al this gold is oures --

Thanne were we in heigh felicitee.

But trewely, by daye it may nat bee.

Men wolde seyn that we were theves stronge,

790 And for oure owene tresor doon us honge.

This tresor moste ycaried be by nyghte

As wisely and as slyly as it myghte.

Wherfore I rede that cut among us alle

Be drawe, and lat se wher the cut wol falle;

And he that hath the cut with herte blithe

Shal renne to the town, and that ful swithe,

And brynge us breed and wyn ful prively.

And two of us shul kepen subtilly

This tresor wel; and if he wol nat tarie,

800 Whan it is nyght, we wol this tresor carie,

By oon assent, where as us thynketh best."

That oon of hem the cut broghte in his fest,

And bad hem drawe and looke where it wol falle;

And it fil on the yongeste of hem alle,

And forth toward the toun he wente anon.

And also soone as that he was gon,

That oon of hem spak thus unto that oother:

"Thow knowest wel thou art my sworen brother;

Thy profit wol I telle thee anon.

810 Thou woost wel that oure felawe is agon.

And heere is gold, and that ful greet plentee,

That shal departed been among us thre.

But nathelees, if I kan shape it so

That it departed were among us two,

Hadde I nat doon a freendes torn to thee?"

That oother answerde, "I noot hou that may be.

He woot that the gold is with us tweye;

What shal we doon? What shal we to hym seye?"

"Shal it be conseil?" seyde the firste shrewe,

820 "And I shal tellen in a wordes fewe

What we shal doon, and brynge it wel aboute."

"I graunte," quod that oother, "out of doute,

That, by my trouthe, I wol thee nat biwreye."

"Now," quod the firste, "thou woost wel we be tweye,

And two of us shul strenger be than oon.

Looke whan that he is set, that right anoon

Arys as though thou woldest with hym pleye,

And I shal ryve hym thurgh the sydes tweye

Whil that thou strogelest with hym as in game,

830 And with thy daggere looke thou do the same;

And thanne shal al this gold departed be,

My deere freend, bitwixen me and thee.

Thanne may we bothe oure lustes all fulfille,

And pleye at dees right at oure owene wille."

And thus acorded been thise shrewes tweye

To sleen the thridde, as ye han herd me seye.

This yongeste, which that wente to the toun,

Ful ofte in herte he rolleth up and doun

The beautee of thise floryns newe and brighte.

840 "O Lord!" quod he, "if so were that I myghte

Have al this tresor to myself allone,

Ther is no man that lyveth under the trone

Of God that sholde lyve so murye as I!"

And atte laste the feend, oure enemy,

Putte in his thought that he sholde poyson beye,

With which he myghte sleen his felawes tweye;

For-why the feend foond hym in swich lyvynge

That he hadde leve him to sorwe brynge.

For this was outrely his fulle entente,

850 To sleen hem bothe and nevere to repente.

And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he tarie,

Into the toun, unto a pothecarie,

And preyde hym that he hym wolde selle

Som poyson, that he myghte his rattes quelle;

And eek ther was a polcat in his hawe,

That, as he seyde, his capouns hadde yslawe,

And fayn he wolde wreke hym, if he myghte,

On vermyn that destroyed hym by nyghte.

The pothecarie answerde, "And thou shalt have

860 A thyng that, also God my soule save,

In al this world ther is no creature

That eten or dronken hath of this confiture

Noght but the montance of a corn of whete,

That he ne shal his lif anon forlete;

Ye, sterve he shal, and that in lasse while

Than thou wolt goon a paas nat but a mile,

This poysoun is so strong and violent."

This cursed man hath in his hond yhent

This poysoun in a box, and sith he ran

870 Into the nexte strete unto a man,

And borwed [of] hym large botelles thre,

And in the two his poyson poured he;

The thridde he kepte clene for his drynke.

For al the nyght he shoop hym for to swynke

In cariynge of the gold out of that place.

And whan this riotour, with sory grace,

Hadde filled with wyn his grete botels thre,

To his felawes agayn repaireth he.

What nedeth it to sermone of it moore?

880 For right as they hadde cast his deeth bifoore,

Right so they han hym slayn, and that anon.

And whan that this was doon, thus spak that oon:

"Now lat us sitte and drynke, and make us merie,

And afterward we wol his body berie."

And with that word it happed hym, par cas,

To take the botel ther the poyson was,

And drank, and yaf his felawe drynke also,

For which anon they storven bothe two.

But certes, I suppose that Avycen

890 Wroot nevere in no canon, ne in no fen,

Mo wonder signes of empoisonyng

Than hadde thise wrecches two, er hir endyng.

Thus ended been thise homycides two,

And eek the false empoysonere also.

O cursed synne of alle cursednesse!

O traytours homycide, O wikkednesse!

O glotonye, luxurie, and hasardrye!

Thou blasphemour of Crist with vileynye

And othes grete, of usage and of pride!

900 Allas, mankynde, how may it bitide

That to thy creatour, which that the wroghte

And with his precious herte-blood thee boghte,

Thou art so fals and so unkynde, allas?

Now, goode men, God foryeve yow youre trespas,

And ware yow fro the synne of avarice!

Myn hooly pardoun may yow alle warice,

So that ye offre nobles or sterlynges,

Or elles silver broches, spoones, rynges.

Boweth youre heed under this hooly bulle!

910 Cometh up, ye wyves, offreth of youre wolle!

Youre names I entre heer in my rolle anon;

Into the blisse of hevene shul ye gon.

I yow assoille, by myn heigh power,

Yow that wol offre, as clene and eek as cleer

As ye were born. -- And lo, sires, thus I preche.

And Jhesu Crist, that is oure soules leche,

So graunte yow his pardoun to receyve,

For that is best; I wol yow nat deceyve.

But, sires, o word forgat I in my tale:

920 I have relikes and pardoun in my male,

As faire as any man in Engelond,

Whiche were me yeven by the popes hond.

If any of yow wole, of devocion,

Offren and han myn absolucion,

Com forth anon, and kneleth heere adoun,

And mekely receyveth my pardoun;

Or elles taketh pardoun as ye wende,

Al newe and fressh at every miles ende,

So that ye offren, alwey newe and newe,

930 Nobles or pens, whiche that be goode and trewe.

It is an honour to everich that is heer

That ye mowe have a suffisant pardoneer

T' assoille yow in contree as ye ryde,

For aventures whiche that may bityde.

Paraventure ther may fallen oon or two

Doun of his hors and breke his nekke atwo.

Looke which a seuretee is it to yow alle

That I am in youre felaweshipe yfalle,

That may assoille yow, bothe moore and lasse,

940 Whan that the soule shal fro the body passe.

I rede that oure Hoost heere shal bigynne,

For he is moost envoluped in synne.

Com forth, sire Hoost, and offre first anon,

And thou shalt kisse the relikes everychon,

Ye, for a grote! Unbokele anon thy purs."

"Nay, nay!" quod he, "thanne have I Cristes curs!

Lat be," quod he, "it shal nat be, so theech!

Thou woldest make me kisse thyn olde breech,

And swere it were a relyk of a seint,

950 Though it were with thy fundement depeint!

But, by the croys which that Seint Eleyne fond,

I wolde I hadde thy coillons in myn hond

In stide of relikes or of seintuarie.

Lat kutte hem of, I wol thee helpe hem carie;

They shul be shryned in an hogges toord!"

This Pardoner answerde nat a word;

So wrooth he was, no word ne wolde he seye.

"Now," quod oure Hoost, "I wol no lenger pleye

With thee, ne with noon oother angry man."

960 But right anon the worthy Knyght bigan,

Whan that he saugh that al the peple lough,

"Namoore of this, for it is right ynough!

Sire Pardoner, be glad and myrie of cheere;

And ye, sire Hoost, that been to me so deere,

I prey yow that ye kisse the Pardoner.

And Pardoner, I prey thee, drawe thee neer,

And, as we diden, lat us laughe and pleye."

Anon they kiste, and ryden forth hir weye.

THE SHIPMAN'S TALE

A marchant whilom dwelled at Seint-Denys,

That riche was, for which men helde hym wys.

A wyf he hadde of excellent beautee;

And compaignable and revelous was she,

Which is a thyng that causeth more dispence

Than worth is al the chiere and reverence

That men hem doon at festes and at daunces.

Swiche salutaciouns and contenaunces

Passen as dooth a shadwe upon the wal;

10 But wo is hym that payen moot for al!

The sely housbonde, algate he moot paye,

He moot us clothe, and he moot us arraye,

Al for his owene worshipe richely,

In which array we daunce jolily.

And if that he noght may, par aventure,

Or ellis list no swich dispence endure,

But thynketh it is wasted and ylost,

Thanne moot another payen for oure cost,

Or lene us gold, and that is perilous.

20 This noble marchaunt heeld a worthy hous,

For which he hadde alday so greet repair

For his largesse, and for his wyf was fair,

That wonder is; but herkneth to my tale.

Amonges alle his gestes, grete and smale,

Ther was a monk, a fair man and a boold --

I trowe a thritty wynter he was oold --

That evere in oon was drawynge to that place.

This yonge monk, that was so fair of face,

Aqueynted was so with the goode man,

30 Sith that hir firste knoweliche bigan,

That in his hous as famulier was he

As it is possible any freend to be.

And for as muchel as this goode man,

And eek this monk of which that I bigan,

Were bothe two yborn in o village,

The monk hym claymeth as for cosynage,

And he agayn; he seith nat ones nay,

But was as glad therof as fowel of day,

For to his herte it was a greet plesaunce.

40 Thus been they knyt with eterne alliaunce,

And ech of hem gan oother for t' assure

Of bretherhede whil that hir lyf may dure.

Free was daun John, and manly of dispence,

As in that hous, and ful of diligence

To doon plesaunce, and also greet costage.

He noght forgat to yeve the leeste page

In al that hous; but after hir degree,

He yaf the lord, and sitthe al his meynee,

Whan that he cam, som manere honest thyng,

50 For which they were as glad of his comyng

As fowel is fayn whan that the sonne up riseth.

Na moore of this as now, for it suffiseth.

But so bifel, this marchant on a day

Shoop hym to make redy his array

Toward the toun of Brugges for to fare,

To byen there a porcioun of ware;

For which he hath to Parys sent anon

A messager, and preyed hath daun John

That he sholde come to Seint-Denys to pleye

60 With hym and with his wyf a day or tweye,

Er he to Brugges wente, in alle wise.

This noble monk, of which I yow devyse,

Hath of his abbot, as hym list, licence,

By cause he was a man of heigh prudence

And eek an officer, out for to ryde,

To seen hir graunges and hire bernes wyde,

And unto Seint-Denys he comth anon.

Who was so welcome as my lord daun John,

Oure deere cosyn, ful of curteisye?

70 With hym broghte he a jubbe of malvesye,

And eek another ful of fyn vernage,

And volatyl, as ay was his usage.

And thus I lete hem ete and drynke and pleye,

This marchant and this monk, a day or tweye.

The thridde day, this marchant up ariseth,

And on his nedes sadly hym avyseth,

And up into his countour-hous gooth he

To rekene with hymself, wel may be,

Of thilke yeer how that it with hym stood,

80 And how that he despended hadde his good,

And if that he encressed were or noon.

His bookes and his bagges many oon

He leith biforn hym on his countyng-bord.

Ful riche was his tresor and his hord,

For which ful faste his countour-dore he shette;

And eek he nolde that no man sholde hym lette

Of his acountes, for the meene tyme;

And thus he sit til it was passed pryme.

Daun John was rysen in the morwe also,

90 And in the gardyn walketh to and fro,

And hath his thynges seyd ful curteisly.

This goode wyf cam walkynge pryvely

Into the gardyn, there he walketh softe,

And hym saleweth, as she hath doon ofte.

A mayde child cam in hire compaignye,

Which as hir list she may governe and gye,

For yet under the yerde was the mayde.

"O deere cosyn myn, daun John," she sayde,

"What eyleth yow so rathe for to ryse?"

100 "Nece," quod he, "it oghte ynough suffise

Fyve houres for to slepe upon a nyght,

But it were for an old appalled wight,

As been thise wedded men, that lye and dare

As in a fourme sit a wery hare,

Were al forstraught with houndes grete and smale.

But deere nece, why be ye so pale?

I trowe, certes, that oure goode man

Hath yow laboured sith the nyght bigan

That yow were nede to resten hastily."

110 And with that word he lough ful murily,

And of his owene thought he wax al reed.

This faire wyf gan for to shake hir heed

And seyde thus, "Ye, God woot al," quod she.

"Nay, cosyn myn, it stant nat so with me;

For, by that God that yaf me soule and lyf,

In al the reawme of France is ther no wyf

That lasse lust hath to that sory pley.

For I may synge `allas and weylawey

That I was born,' but to no wight," quod she,

120 "Dar I nat telle how that it stant with me.

Wherfore I thynke out of this land to wende,

Or elles of myself to make an ende,

So ful am I of drede and eek of care."

This monk bigan upon this wyf to stare,

And seyde, "Allas, my nece, God forbede

That ye, for any sorwe or any drede,

Fordo youreself; but telleth me youre grief.

Paraventure I may, in youre meschief,

Conseille or helpe; and therfore telleth me

130 Al youre anoy, for it shal been secree.

For on my portehors I make an ooth

That nevere in my lyf, for lief ne looth,

Ne shal I of no conseil yow biwreye."

"The same agayn to yow," quod she, "I seye.

By God and by this portehors I swere,

Though men me wolde al into pieces tere,

Ne shal I nevere, for to goon to helle,

Biwreye a word of thyng that ye me telle,

Nat for no cosynage ne alliance,

140 But verraily for love and affiance."

Thus been they sworn, and heerupon they kiste,

And ech of hem tolde oother what hem liste.

"Cosyn," quod she, "if that I hadde a space,

As I have noon, and namely in this place,

Thanne wolde I telle a legende of my lyf,

What I have suffred sith I was a wyf

With myn housbonde, al be he youre cosyn."

"Nay," quod this monk, "by God and Seint Martyn,

He is na moore cosyn unto me

150 Than is this leef that hangeth on the tree!

I clepe hym so, by Seint Denys of Fraunce,

To have the moore cause of aqueyntaunce

Of yow, which I have loved specially

Aboven alle wommen, sikerly.

This swere I yow on my professioun.

Telleth youre grief, lest that he come adoun;

And hasteth yow, and gooth youre wey anon."

"My deere love," quod she, "O my daun John,

Ful lief were me this conseil for to hyde,

160 But out it moot; I may namoore abyde.

Myn housbonde is to me the worste man

That evere was sith that the world bigan.

But sith I am a wyf, it sit nat me

To tellen no wight of oure privetee,

Neither abedde ne in noon oother place;

God shilde I sholde it tellen, for his grace!

A wyf ne shal nat seyn of hir housbonde

But al honour, as I kan understonde;

Save unto yow thus muche I tellen shal:

170 As helpe me God, he is noght worth at al

In no degree the value of a flye.

But yet me greveth moost his nygardye.

And wel ye woot that wommen naturelly

Desiren thynges sixe as wel as I:

They wolde that hir housbondes sholde be

Hardy and wise, and riche, and therto free,

And buxom unto his wyf and fressh abedde.

But by that ilke Lord that for us bledde,

For his honour, myself for to arraye,

180 A Sonday next I moste nedes paye

An hundred frankes, or ellis I am lorn.

Yet were me levere that I were unborn

Than me were doon a sclaundre or vileynye;

And if myn housbonde eek it myghte espye,

I nere but lost; and therfore I yow preye,

Lene me this somme, or ellis moot I deye.

Daun John, I seye, lene me thise hundred frankes.

Pardee, I wol nat faille yow my thankes,

If that yow list to doon that I yow praye.

190 For at a certeyn day I wol yow paye,

And doon to yow what plesance and service

That I may doon, right as yow list devise.

And but I do, God take on me vengeance

As foul as evere hadde Genylon of France."

This gentil monk answerde in this manere:

"Now trewely, myn owene lady deere,

I have," quod he, "on yow so greet a routhe

That I yow swere, and plighte yow my trouthe,

That whan youre housbonde is to Flaundres fare,

200 I wol delyvere yow out of this care;

For I wol brynge yow an hundred frankes."

And with that word he caughte hire by the flankes,

And hire embraceth harde, and kiste hire ofte.

"Gooth now youre wey," quod he, "al stille and softe,

And lat us dyne as soone as that ye may;

For by my chilyndre it is pryme of day.

Gooth now, and beeth as trewe as I shal be."

"Now elles God forbede, sire," quod she;

And forth she gooth as jolif as a pye,

210 And bad the cookes that they sholde hem hye,

So that men myghte dyne, and that anon.

Up to hir housbonde is this wyf ygon,

And knokketh at his countour boldely.

"Quy la?" quod he. "Peter! it am I,"

Quod she; "What, sire, how longe wol ye faste?

How longe tyme wol ye rekene and caste

Youre sommes, and youre bookes, and youre thynges?

The devel have part on alle swiche rekenynges!

Ye have ynough, pardee, of Goddes sonde;

220 Com doun to-day, and lat youre bagges stonde.

Ne be ye nat ashamed that daun John

Shal fasting al this day alenge goon?

What, lat us heere a messe, and go we dyne."

"Wyf," quod this man, "litel kanstow devyne

The curious bisynesse that we have.

For of us chapmen, also God me save,

And by that lord that clepid is Seint Yve,

Scarsly amonges twelve tweye shul thryve

Continuelly, lastynge unto oure age.

230 We may wel make chiere and good visage,

And dryve forth the world as it may be,

And kepen oure estaat in pryvetee,

Til we be deed, or elles that we pleye

A pilgrymage, or goon out of the weye.

And therfore have I greet necessitee

Upon this queynte world t' avyse me,

For everemoore we moote stonde in drede

Of hap and fortune in oure chapmanhede.

"To Flaundres wol I go to-morwe at day,

240 And come agayn, as soone as evere I may.

For which, my deere wyf, I thee biseke,

As be to every wight buxom and meke,

And for to kepe oure good be curious,

And honestly governe wel oure hous.

Thou hast ynough, in every maner wise,

That to a thrifty houshold may suffise.

Thee lakketh noon array ne no vitaille;

Of silver in thy purs shaltow nat faille."

And with that word his countour-dore he shette,

250 And doun he gooth, no lenger wolde he lette.

But hastily a messe was ther seyd,

And spedily the tables were yleyd,

And to the dyner faste they hem spedde,

And richely this monk the chapman fedde.

At after-dyner daun John sobrely

This chapman took apart, and prively

He seyde hym thus: "Cosyn, it standeth so,

That wel I se to Brugges wol ye go.

God and Seint Austyn spede yow and gyde!

260 I prey yow, cosyn, wisely that ye ryde.

Governeth yow also of youre diete

Atemprely, and namely in this hete.

Bitwix us two nedeth no strange fare;

Farewel, cosyn; God shilde yow fro care!

And if that any thyng by day or nyght,

If it lye in my power and my myght,

That ye me wol comande in any wyse,

It shal be doon right as ye wol devyse.

"O thyng, er that ye goon, if it may be,

270 I wolde prey yow: for to lene me

An hundred frankes, for a wyke or tweye,

For certein beestes that I moste beye,

To stoore with a place that is oures.

God helpe me so, I wolde it were youres!

I shal nat faille surely of my day,

Nat for a thousand frankes, a mile way.

But lat this thyng be secree, I yow preye,

For yet to-nyght thise beestes moot I beye.

And fare now wel, myn owene cosyn deere;

280 Graunt mercy of youre cost and of youre cheere."

This noble marchant gentilly anon

Answerde and seyde, "O cosyn myn, daun John,

Now sikerly this is a smal requeste.

My gold is youres, whan that it yow leste,

And nat oonly my gold, but my chaffare.

Take what yow list; God shilde that ye spare.

"But o thyng is, ye knowe it wel ynogh

Of chapmen, that hir moneie is hir plogh.

We may creaunce whil we have a name,

290 But goldlees for to be, it is no game.

Paye it agayn whan it lith in youre ese;

After my myght ful fayn wolde I yow plese."

Thise hundred frankes he fette forth anon,

And prively he took hem to daun John.

No wight in al this world wiste of this loone

Savynge this marchant and daun John allone.

They drynke, and speke, and rome a while and pleye,

Til that daun John rideth to his abbeye.

The morwe cam, and forth this marchant rideth

300 To Flaundres-ward; his prentys wel hym gydeth

Til he came into Brugges murily.

Now gooth this marchant faste and bisily

Aboute his nede, and byeth and creaunceth.

He neither pleyeth at the dees ne daunceth,

But as a marchaunt, shortly for to telle,

He let his lyf, and there I lete hym dwelle.

The Sonday next the marchant was agon,

To Seint-Denys ycomen is daun John,

With crowne and berd al fressh and newe yshave.

310 In al the hous ther nas so litel a knave,

Ne no wight elles, that he nas ful fayn

That my lord daun John was come agayn.

And shortly to the point right for to gon,

This faire wyf acorded with daun John

That for thise hundred frankes he sholde al nyght

Have hire in his armes bolt upright;

And this acord parfourned was in dede.

In myrthe al nyght a bisy lyf they lede

Til it was day, that daun John wente his way,

320 And bad the meynee "Farewel, have good day!"

For noon of hem, ne no wight in the toun,

Hath of daun John right no suspecioun.

And forth he rydeth hoom to his abbeye,

Or where hym list; namoore of hym I seye.

This marchant, whan that ended was the faire,

To Seint-Denys he gan for to repaire,

And with his wyf he maketh feeste and cheere,

And telleth hire that chaffare is so deere

That nedes moste he make a chevyssaunce,

330 For he was bounden in a reconyssaunce

To paye twenty thousand sheeld anon.

For which this marchant is to Parys gon

To borwe of certeine freendes that he hadde

A certeyn frankes; and somme with him he ladde.

And whan that he was come into the toun,

For greet chiertee and greet affeccioun,

Unto daun John he first gooth hym to pleye;

Nat for to axe or borwe of hym moneye,

But for to wite and seen of his welfare,

340 And for to tellen hym of his chaffare,

As freendes doon whan they been met yfeere.

Daun John hym maketh feeste and murye cheere,

And he hym tolde agayn, ful specially,

How he hadde wel yboght and graciously,

Thanked be God, al hool his marchandise,

Save that he moste, in alle maner wise,

Maken a chevyssaunce, as for his beste,

And thanne he sholde been in joye and reste.

Daun John answerde, "Certes, I am fayn

350 That ye in heele ar comen hom agayn.

And if that I were riche, as have I blisse,

Of twenty thousand sheeld sholde ye nat mysse,

For ye so kyndely this oother day

Lente me gold; and as I kan and may,

I thanke yow, by God and by Seint Jame!

But nathelees, I took unto oure dame,

Youre wyf, at hom, the same gold ageyn

Upon youre bench; she woot it wel, certeyn,

By certeyn tokenes that I kan hire telle.

360 Now, by youre leve, I may no lenger dwelle;

Oure abbot wole out of this toun anon,

And in his compaignye moot I goon.

Grete wel oure dame, myn owene nece sweete,

And fare wel, deere cosyn, til we meete!"

This marchant, which that was ful war and wys,

Creanced hath, and payd eek in Parys

To certeyn Lumbardes, redy in hir hond,

The somme of gold, and gat of hem his bond;

And hoom he gooth, murie as a papejay,

370 For wel he knew he stood in swich array

That nedes moste he wynne in that viage

A thousand frankes aboven al his costage.

His wyf ful redy mette hym atte gate,

As she was wont of oold usage algate,

And al that nyght in myrthe they bisette;

For he was riche and cleerly out of dette.

Whan it was day, this marchant gan embrace

His wyf al newe, and kiste hire on hir face,

And up he gooth and maketh it ful tough.

380 "Namoore," quod she, "by God, ye have ynough!"

And wantownly agayn with hym she pleyde

Til atte laste thus this marchant seyde:

"By God," quod he, "I am a litel wrooth

With yow, my wyf, although it be me looth.

And woot ye why? By God, as that I gesse

That ye han maad a manere straungenesse

Bitwixen me and my cosyn daun John.

Ye sholde han warned me, er I had gon,

That he yow hadde an hundred frankes payed

390 By redy token; and heeld hym yvele apayed,

For that I to hym spak of chevyssaunce;

Me semed so, as by his contenaunce.

But nathelees, by God, oure hevene kyng,

I thoughte nat to axen hym no thyng.

I prey thee, wyf, ne do namoore so;

Telle me alwey, er that I fro thee go,

If any dettour hath in myn absence

Ypayed thee, lest thurgh thy necligence

I myghte hym axe a thing that he hath payed."

400 This wyf was nat afered nor affrayed,

But boldely she seyde, and that anon,

"Marie, I deffie the false monk, daun John!

I kepe nat of his tokenes never a deel;

He took me certeyn gold, that woot I weel --

What! Yvel thedam on his monkes snowte!

For, God it woot, I wende, withouten doute,

That he hadde yeve it me bycause of yow

To doon therwith myn honour and my prow,

For cosynage, and eek for beele cheere

410 That he hath had ful ofte tymes heere.

But sith I se I stonde in this disjoynt,

I wol answere yow shortly to the poynt.

Ye han mo slakkere dettours than am I!

For I wol paye yow wel and redily

Fro day to day, and if so be I faille,

I am youre wyf; score it upon my taille,

And I shal paye as soone as ever I may.

For by my trouthe, I have on myn array,

And nat on wast, bistowed every deel;

420 And for I have bistowed it so weel

For youre honour, for Goddes sake, I seye,

As be nat wrooth, but lat us laughe and pleye.

Ye shal my joly body have to wedde;

By God, I wol nat paye yow but abedde!

Forgyve it me, myn owene spouse deere;

Turne hiderward, and maketh bettre cheere."

This marchant saugh ther was no remedie,

And for to chide it nere but folie,

Sith that the thyng may nat amended be.

430 "Now wyf," he seyde, "and I foryeve it thee;

But, by thy lyf, ne be namoore so large.

Keep bet thy good, this yeve I thee in charge."

Thus endeth my tale, and God us sende

Taillynge ynough unto oure lyves ende. Amen

"Wel seyd, by corpus dominus," quod oure Hoost,

"Now longe moote thou saille by the cost,

Sire gentil maister, gentil maryneer!

God yeve the monk a thousand last quade yeer!

A ha! Felawes, beth ware of swich a jape!

440 The monk putte in the mannes hood an ape,

And in his wyves eek, by Seint Austyn!

Draweth no monkes moore unto youre in.

"But now passe over, and lat us seke aboute,

Who shal now telle first of al this route

Another tale;" and with that word he sayde,

As curteisly as it had been a mayde,

"My lady Prioresse, by youre leve,

So that I wiste I sholde yow nat greve,

I wolde demen that ye tellen sholde

450 A tale next, if so were that ye wolde.

Now wol ye vouche sauf, my lady deere?"

"Gladly," quod she, and seyde as ye shal heere.

THE PRIORESS' PROLOGUE

O Lord, oure Lord, thy name how merveillous

Is in this large world ysprad -- quod she --

For noght oonly thy laude precious

Parfourned is by men of dignitee,

But by the mouth of children thy bountee

Parfourned is, for on the brest soukynge

Somtyme shewen they thyn heriynge.

460 Wherfore in laude, as I best kan or may,

Of thee and of the white lylye flour

Which that the bar, and is a mayde alway,

To telle a storie I wol do my labour;

Nat that I may encressen hir honour,

For she hirself is honour and the roote

Of bountee, next hir Sone, and soules boote.

O mooder Mayde, O mayde Mooder free!

O bussh unbrent, brennynge in Moyses sighte,

That ravyshedest doun fro the Deitee,

470 Thurgh thyn humblesse, the Goost that in th' alighte,

Of whos vertu, whan he thyn herte lighte,

Conceyved was the Fadres sapience,

Help me to telle it in thy reverence!

Lady, thy bountee, thy magnificence,

Thy vertu and thy grete humylitee

Ther may no tonge expresse in no science;

For somtyme, Lady, er men praye to thee,

Thou goost biforn of thy benyngnytee,

And getest us the lyght, of thy preyere,

480 To gyden us unto thy Sone so deere.

My konnyng is so wayk, O blisful Queene,

For to declare thy grete worthynesse

That I ne may the weighte nat susteene;

But as a child of twelf month oold, or lesse,

That kan unnethes any word expresse,

Right so fare I, and therfore I yow preye,

Gydeth my song that I shal of yow seye.

THE PRIORESS' TALE

Ther was in Asye, in a greet citee,

Amonges Cristene folk a Jewerye,

490 Sustened by a lord of that contree

For foule usure and lucre of vileynye,

Hateful to Crist and to his compaignye;

And thurgh the strete men myghte ride or wende,

For it was free and open at eyther ende.

A litel scole of Cristen folk ther stood

Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were

Children an heep, ycomen of Cristen blood,

That lerned in that scole yeer by yere

Swich manere doctrine as men used there,

500 This is to seyn, to syngen and to rede,

As smale children doon in hire childhede.

Among thise children was a wydwes sone,

A litel clergeon, seven yeer of age,

That day by day to scole was his wone,

And eek also, where as he saugh th' ymage

Of Cristes mooder, hadde he in usage,

As hym was taught, to knele adoun and seye

His Ave Marie, as he goth by the weye.

Thus hath this wydwe hir litel sone ytaught

510 Oure blisful Lady, Cristes mooder deere,

To worshipe ay, and he forgat it naught,

For sely child wol alday soone leere.

But ay, whan I remembre on this mateere,

Seint Nicholas stant evere in my presence,

For he so yong to Crist dide reverence.

This litel child, his litel book lernynge,

As he sat in the scole at his prymer,

He Alma redemptoris herde synge,

As children lerned hire antiphoner;

520 And as he dorste, he drough hym ner and ner,

And herkned ay the wordes and the noote,

Til he the firste vers koude al by rote.

Noght wiste he what this Latyn was to seye,

For he so yong and tendre was of age.

But on a day his felawe gan he preye

T' expounden hym this song in his langage,

Or telle hym why this song was in usage;

This preyde he hym to construe and declare

Ful often tyme upon his knowes bare.

530 His felawe, which that elder was than he,

Answerde hym thus: "This song, I have herd seye,

Was maked of our blisful Lady free,

Hire to salue, and eek hire for to preye

To been oure help and socour whan we deye.

I kan namoore expounde in this mateere.

I lerne song; I kan but smal grammeere."

"And is this song maked in reverence

Of Cristes mooder?" seyde this innocent.

"Now, certes, I wol do my diligence

540 To konne it al er Cristemasse be went.

Though that I for my prymer shal be shent

And shal be beten thries in an houre,

I wol it konne Oure Lady for to honoure!"

His felawe taughte hym homward prively,

Fro day to day, til he koude it by rote,

And thanne he song it wel and boldely,

Fro word to word, acordynge with the note.

Twies a day it passed thurgh his throte,

To scoleward and homward whan he wente;

550 On Cristes mooder set was his entente.

As I have seyd, thurghout the Juerie

This litel child, as he cam to and fro,

Ful murily than wolde he synge and crie

O Alma redemptoris everemo.

The swetnesse his herte perced so

Of Cristes mooder that, to hire to preye,

He kan nat stynte of syngyng by the weye.

Oure firste foo, the serpent Sathanas,

That hath in Jues herte his waspes nest,

560 Up swal, and seide, "O Hebrayk peple, allas!

Is this to yow a thyng that is honest,

That swich a boy shal walken as hym lest

In youre despit, and synge of swich sentence,

Which is agayn youre lawes reverence?"

Fro thennes forth the Jues han conspired

This innocent out of this world to chace.

An homycide therto han they hyred,

That in an aleye hadde a privee place;

And as the child gan forby for to pace,

570 This cursed Jew hym hente, and heeld hym faste,

And kitte his throte, and in a pit hym caste.

I seye that in a wardrobe they hym threwe

Where as thise Jewes purgen hire entraille.

O cursed folk of Herodes al newe,

What may youre yvel entente yow availle?

Mordre wol out, certeyn, it wol nat faille,

And namely ther th' onour of God shal sprede;

The blood out crieth on youre cursed dede.

O martir, sowded to virginitee,

580 Now maystow syngen, folwynge evere in oon

The white Lamb celestial -- quod she --

Of which the grete evaungelist, Seint John,

In Pathmos wroot, which seith that they that goon

Biforn this Lamb and synge a song al newe,

That nevere, flesshly, wommen they ne knewe.

This poure wydwe awaiteth al that nyght

After hir litel child, but he cam noght;

For which, as soone as it was dayes lyght,

With face pale of drede and bisy thoght,

590 She hath at scole and elleswhere hym soght,

Til finally she gan so fer espie

That he last seyn was in the Juerie.

With moodres pitee in hir brest enclosed,

She gooth, as she were half out of hir mynde,

To every place where she hath supposed

By liklihede hir litel child to fynde;

And evere on Cristes mooder meeke and kynde

She cride, and atte laste thus she wroghte:

Among the cursed Jues she hym soghte.

600 She frayneth and she preyeth pitously

To every Jew that dwelte in thilke place,

To telle hire if hir child wente oght forby.

They seyde "nay"; but Jhesu of his grace

Yaf in hir thoght inwith a litel space

That in that place after hir sone she cryde,

Where he was casten in a pit bisyde.

O grete God, that parfournest thy laude

By mouth of innocentz, lo, heere thy myght!

This gemme of chastite, this emeraude,

610 And eek of martirdom the ruby bright,

Ther he with throte ykorven lay upright,

He Alma redemptoris gan to synge

So loude that al the place gan to rynge.

The Cristene folk that thurgh the strete wente

In coomen for to wondre upon this thyng,

And hastily they for the provost sente;

He cam anon withouten tariyng,

And herieth Crist that is of hevene kyng,

And eek his mooder, honour of mankynde,

620 And after that the Jewes leet he bynde.

This child with pitous lamentacioun

Up taken was, syngynge his song alway,

And with honour of greet processioun

They carien hym unto the nexte abbay.

His mooder swownynge by his beere lay;

Unnethe myghte the peple that was theere

This newe Rachel brynge fro his beere.

With torment and with shameful deeth echon,

This provost dooth thise Jewes for to sterve

630 That of this mordre wiste, and that anon.

He nolde no swich cursednesse observe.

"Yvele shal have that yvele wol deserve";

Therfore with wilde hors he dide hem drawe,

And after that he heng hem by the lawe.

Upon this beere ay lith this innocent

Biforn the chief auter, whil the masse laste;

And after that, the abbot with his covent

Han sped hem for to burien hym ful faste;

And whan they hooly water on hym caste,

640 Yet spak this child, whan spreynd was hooly water,

And song O Alma redemptoris mater!

This abbot, which that was an hooly man,

As monkes been -- or elles oghte be --

This yonge child to conjure he bigan,

And seyde, "O deere child, I halse thee,

In vertu of the hooly Trinitee,

Tel me what is thy cause for to synge,

Sith that thy throte is kut to my semynge?"

"My throte is kut unto my nekke boon,"

650 Seyde this child, "and as by wey of kynde

I sholde have dyed, ye, longe tyme agon.

But Jesu Crist, as ye in bookes fynde,

Wil that his glorie laste and be in mynde,

And for the worship of his Mooder deere

Yet may I synge O Alma loude and cleere.

"This welle of mercy, Cristes mooder sweete,

I loved alwey, as after my konnynge;

And whan that I my lyf sholde forlete,

To me she cam, and bad me for to synge

660 This anthem verraily in my deyynge,

As ye han herd, and whan that I hadde songe,

Me thoughte she leyde a greyn upon my tonge.

"Wherfore I synge, and synge moot certeyn,

In honour of that blisful Mayden free

Til fro my tonge of taken is the greyn;

And after that thus seyde she to me:

`My litel child, now wol I fecche thee,

Whan that the greyn is fro thy tonge ytake.

Be nat agast; I wol thee nat forsake.'"

670 This hooly monk, this abbot, hym meene I,

His tonge out caughte, and took awey the greyn,

And he yaf up the goost ful softely.

And whan this abbot hadde this wonder seyn,

His salte teeris trikled doun as reyn,

And gruf he fil al plat upon the grounde,

And stille he lay as he had ben ybounde.

The covent eek lay on the pavement

Wepynge, and herying Cristes mooder deere,

And after that they ryse, and forth been went,

680 And tooken awey this martir from his beere;

And in a tombe of marbul stones cleere

Enclosen they his litel body sweete.

Ther he is now, God leve us for to meete!

O yonge Hugh of Lyncoln, slayn also

With cursed Jewes, as it is notable,

For it is but a litel while ago,

Preye eek for us, we synful folk unstable,

That of his mercy God so merciable

On us his grete mercy multiplie,

690 For reverence of his mooder Marie. Amen.

THE PROLOGUE TO THE TALE OF SIR THOPAS

Whan seyd was al this miracle, every man

As sobre was that wonder was to se,

Til that oure Hooste japen tho bigan,

And thanne at erst he looked upon me,

And seyde thus: "What man artow?" quod he;

"Thou lookest as thou woldest fynde an hare,

For evere upon the ground I se thee stare.

"Approche neer, and looke up murily.

Now war yow, sires, and lat this man have place!

700 He in the waast is shape as wel as I;

This were a popet in an arm t' enbrace

For any womman, smal and fair of face.

He semeth elvyssh by his contenaunce,

For unto no wight dooth he daliaunce.

"Sey now somwhat, syn oother folk han sayd;

Telle us a tale of myrthe, and that anon."

"Hooste," quod I, "ne beth nat yvele apayd,

For oother tale certes kan I noon,

But of a rym I lerned longe agoon."

710 "Ye, that is good," quod he; "now shul we heere

Som deyntee thyng, me thynketh by his cheere."

THE TALE OF SIR THOPAS

Listeth, lordes, in good entent,

And I wol telle verrayment

Of myrthe and of solas,

Al of a knyght was fair and gent

In bataille and in tourneyment;

His name was sire Thopas.

Yborn he was in fer contree,

In Flaundres, al biyonde the see,

720 At Poperyng, in the place.

His fader was a man ful free,

And lord he was of that contree,

As it was Goddes grace.

Sire Thopas wax a doghty swayn;

Whit was his face as payndemayn,

His lippes rede as rose;

His rode is lyk scarlet in grayn,

And I yow telle in good certayn

He hadde a semely nose.

730 His heer, his berd was lyk saffroun,

That to his girdel raughte adoun;

His shoon of cordewane.

Of Brugges were his hosen broun,

His robe was of syklatoun,

That coste many a jane.

He koude hunte at wilde deer,

And ride an haukyng for river

With grey goshauk on honde;

Therto he was a good archeer;

740 Of wrastlyng was ther noon his peer,

Ther any ram shal stonde.

Ful many a mayde, bright in bour,

They moorne for hym paramour,

Whan hem were bet to slepe;

But he was chaast and no lechour,

And sweete as is the brembul flour

That bereth the rede hepe.

And so bifel upon a day,

For sothe, as I yow telle may,

750 Sire Thopas wolde out ride.

He worth upon his steede gray,

And in his hand a launcegay,

A long swerd by his side.

He priketh thurgh a fair forest,

Therinne is many a wilde best,

Ye, bothe bukke and hare;

And as he priketh north and est,

I telle it yow, hym hadde almest

Bitid a sory care.

760 Ther spryngen herbes grete and smale,

The lycorys and the cetewale,

And many a clowe-gylofre;

And notemuge to putte in ale,

Wheither it be moyste or stale,

Or for to leye in cofre.

The briddes synge, it is no nay,

The sparhauk and the papejay,

That joye it was to heere;

The thrustelcok made eek hir lay,

770 The wodedowve upon the spray

She sang ful loude and cleere.

Sire Thopas fil in love-longynge,

Al whan he herde the thrustel synge,

And pryked as he were wood.

His faire steede in his prikynge

So swatte that men myghte him wrynge;

His sydes were al blood.

Sire Thopas eek so wery was

For prikyng on the softe gras,

780 So fiers was his corage,

That doun he leyde him in that plas

To make his steede som solas,

And yaf hym good forage.

"O Seinte Marie, benedicite!

What eyleth this love at me

To bynde me so soore?

Me dremed al this nyght, pardee,

An elf-queene shal my lemman be

And slepe under my goore.

790 "An elf-queene wol I love, ywis,

For in this world no womman is

Worthy to be my make

In towne;

Alle othere wommen I forsake,

And to an elf-queene I me take

By dale and eek by downe!"

Into his sadel he clamb anon,

And priketh over stile and stoon

An elf-queene for t' espye,

800 Til he so longe hath riden and goon

That he foond, in a pryve woon,

The contree of Fairye

So wilde;

For in that contree was ther noon

That to him durste ride or goon,

Neither wyf ne childe;

Til that ther cam a greet geaunt,

His name was sire Olifaunt,

A perilous man of dede.

810 He seyde, "Child, by Termagaunt,

But if thou prike out of myn haunt,

Anon I sle thy steede

With mace.

Heere is the queene of Fayerye,

With harpe and pipe and symphonye,

Dwellynge in this place."

The child seyde, "Also moote I thee,

Tomorwe wol I meete with thee,

Whan I have myn armoure;

820 And yet I hope, par ma fay,

That thou shalt with this launcegay

Abyen it ful sowre.

Thy mawe

Shal I percen, if I may,

Er it be fully pryme of day,

For heere thow shalt be slawe."

Sire Thopas drow abak ful faste;

This geant at hym stones caste

Out of a fel staf-slynge.

830 But faire escapeth child Thopas,

And al it was thurgh Goddes gras,

And thurgh his fair berynge.

Yet listeth, lordes, to my tale

Murier than the nightyngale,

For now I wol yow rowne

How sir Thopas, with sydes smale,

Prikyng over hill and dale,

Is comen agayn to towne.

His myrie men comanded he

840 To make hym bothe game and glee,

For nedes moste he fighte

With a geaunt with hevedes three,

For paramour and jolitee

Of oon that shoon ful brighte.

"Do come," he seyde, "my mynstrales,

And geestours for to tellen tales,

Anon in myn armynge,

Of romances that been roiales,

Of popes and of cardinales,

850 And eek of love-likynge."

They fette hym first the sweete wyn,

And mede eek in a mazelyn,

And roial spicerye

Of gyngebreed that was ful fyn,

And lycorys, and eek comyn,

With sugre that is trye.

He dide next his white leere

Of cloth of lake fyn and cleere,

A breech and eek a sherte;

860 And next his sherte an aketoun,

And over that an haubergeoun

For percynge of his herte;

And over that a fyn hawberk,

Was al ywroght of Jewes werk,

Ful strong it was of plate;

And over that his cote-armour

As whit as is a lilye flour,

In which he wol debate.

His sheeld was al of gold so reed,

870 And therinne was a bores heed,

A charbocle bisyde;

And there he swoor on ale and breed

How that the geaunt shal be deed,

Bityde what bityde!

His jambeux were of quyrboilly,

His swerdes shethe of yvory,

His helm of latoun bright;

His sadel was of rewel boon,

His brydel as the sonne shoon,

880 Or as the moone light.

His spere was of fyn ciprees,

That bodeth werre, and nothyng pees,

The heed ful sharpe ygrounde;

His steede was al dappull gray,

It gooth an ambil in the way

Ful softely and rounde

In londe.

Loo, lordes myne, heere is a fit!

If ye wol any moore of it,

890 To telle it wol I fonde.

Now holde youre mouth, par charitee,

Bothe knyght and lady free,

And herkneth to my spelle;

Of bataille and of chivalry,

And of ladyes love-drury

Anon I wol yow telle.

Men speken of romances of prys,

Of Horn child and of Ypotys,

Of Beves and sir Gy,

900 Of sir Lybeux and Pleyndamour --

But sir Thopas, he bereth the flour

Of roial chivalry!

His goode steede al he bistrood,

And forth upon his wey he glood

As sparcle out of the bronde;

Upon his creest he bar a tour,

And therinne stiked a lilie flour --

God shilde his cors fro shonde!

And for he was a knyght auntrous,

910 He nolde slepen in noon hous,

But liggen in his hoode;

His brighte helm was his wonger,

And by hym baiteth his dextrer

Of herbes fyne and goode.

Hymself drank water of the well,

As dide the knyght sire Percyvell

So worly under wede,

Til on a day --

"Namoore of this, for Goddes dignitee,"

920 Quod oure Hooste, "for thou makest me

So wery of thy verray lewednesse

That, also wisly God my soule blesse,

Myne eres aken of thy drasty speche.

Now swich a rym the devel I biteche!

This may wel be rym dogerel," quod he.

"Why so?" quod I, "why wiltow lette me

Moore of my tale than another man,

Syn that it is the beste rym I kan?"

"By God," quod he, "for pleynly, at a word,

930 Thy drasty rymyng is nat worth a toord!

Thou doost noght elles but despendest tyme.

Sire, at o word, thou shalt no lenger ryme.

Lat se wher thou kanst tellen aught in geeste,

Or telle in prose somwhat, at the leeste,

In which ther be som murthe or som doctryne."

"Gladly," quod I, "by Goddes sweete pyne!

I wol yow telle a litel thyng in prose

That oghte liken yow, as I suppose,

Or elles, certes, ye been to daungerous.

940 It is a moral tale vertuous,

Al be it told somtyme in sondry wyse

Of sondry folk, as I shal yow devyse.

"As thus: ye woot that every Evaungelist

That telleth us the peyne of Jhesu Crist

Ne seith nat alle thyng as his felawe dooth;

But nathelees hir sentence is al sooth,

And alle acorden as in hire sentence,

Al be ther in hir tellyng difference.

For somme of hem seyn moore, and somme seyn lesse,

950 Whan they his pitous passioun expresse --

I meene of Mark, Mathew, Luc, and John --

But doutelees hir sentence is al oon.

Therfore, lordynges alle, I yow biseche,

If that yow thynke I varie as in my speche,

As thus, though that I telle somwhat moore

Of proverbes than ye han herd bifoore

Comprehended in this litel tretys heere,

To enforce with th' effect of my mateere;

And though I nat the same wordes seye

960 As ye han herd, yet to yow alle I preye

Blameth me nat; for, as in my sentence,

Shul ye nowher fynden difference

Fro the sentence of this tretys lyte

After the which this murye tale I write.

And therfore herkneth what that I shal seye,

And lat me tellen al my tale, I preye."

THE TALE OF MELIBEE

A yong man called Melibeus, myghty and riche, bigat upon his wyf, that called was Prudence,

a doghter which that called was Sophie.

Upon a day bifel that he for his desport is went into the feeldes hym to pleye.

His wyf and eek his doghter hath he left inwith his hous, of which the dores weren faste yshette.

970 Thre of his olde foes han it espyed, and setten laddres to the walles of his hous,

970A and by wyndowes been entred,

and betten his wyf, and wounded his doghter with fyve mortal woundes in fyve sondry places --

this is to seyn, in hir feet, in hire handes, in hir erys, in hir nose,

and in hire mouth -- and leften hire for deed, and wenten awey.

Whan Melibeus retourned was into his hous, and saugh al this meschief, he,

lyk a mad man rentynge his clothes, gan to wepe and crie.

Prudence, his wyf, as ferforth as she dorste, bisoghte hym of his wepyng for to stynte,

but nat forthy he gan to crie and wepen evere lenger the moore.

This noble wyf Prudence remembred hire upon the sentence of Ovide, in his book

that cleped is the Remedie of Love, where as he seith,

"He is a fool that destourbeth the mooder to wepen in the deeth of hire child

til she have wept hir fille as for a certein tyme,

and thanne shal man doon his diligence with amyable wordes hire to reconforte,

and preyen hire of hir wepyng for to stynte."

For which resoun this noble wyf Prudence suffred hir housbonde

for to wepe and crie as for a certein space,

980 and whan she saugh hir tyme, she seyde hym in this wise:

980A "Allas, my lord," quod she, "why make ye youreself for to be lyk a fool?

For sothe it aperteneth nat to a wys man to maken swich a sorwe.

Youre doghter, with the grace of God, shal warisshe and escape.

And, al were it so that she right now were deed,

ye ne oughte nat, as for hir deeth, youreself to destroye.

Senek seith: `The wise man shal nat take to greet disconfort for the deeth of his children,

but, certes, he sholde suffren it in pacience

as wel as he abideth the deeth of his owene propre persone.'"

This Melibeus answerde anon and seyde, "What man," quod he, "sholde of his wepyng stente

that hath so greet a cause for to wepe?

Jhesu Crist, oure Lord, hymself wepte for the deeth of Lazarus hys freend."

Prudence answerde: "Certes, wel I woot attempree wepyng is no thyng deffended to hym that sorweful is,

amonges folk in sorwe, but it is rather graunted hym to wepe.

The Apostle Paul unto the Romayns writeth, `Man shal rejoyse

with hem that maken joye and wepen with swich folk as wepen.'

990 But though attempree wepyng be ygraunted, outrageous wepyng certes is deffended.

Mesure of wepyng sholde be considered after the loore that techeth us Senek:

`Whan that thy frend is deed,' quod he, `lat nat thyne eyen to moyste been of teeris,

ne to muche drye; although the teeris come to thyne eyen, lat hem nat falle;

and whan thou hast forgoon thy freend, do diligence to gete another freend;

and this is moore wysdom than for to wepe for thy freend

which that thou hast lorn, for therinne is no boote.'

And therfore, if ye governe yow by sapience, put awey sorwe out of youre herte.

Remembre yow that Jhesus Syrak seith, `A man that is joyous and glad in herte,

it hym conserveth florissynge in his age; but soothly sorweful herte maketh his bones drye.'

He seith eek thus, that sorwe in herte sleeth ful many a man.

Salomon seith that right as motthes in the shepes flees anoyeth to the clothes,

and the smale wormes to the tree, right so anoyeth sorwe to the herte.

Wherfore us oghte, as wel in the deeth of oure children

as in the los of oure othere goodes temporels, have pacience.

Remembre yow upon the pacient Job. Whan he hadde lost his children and his temporeel substance,

and in his body endured and receyved ful many a grevous tribulacion, yet seyde he thus:

1000 `Oure Lord hath yeve it me; oure Lord hath biraft it me; right as oure Lord hath wold,

1000A right so it is doon; blessed be the name of oure Lord!'"

To thise forseide thynges answerde Melibeus unto his wyf Prudence: "Alle thy wordes," quod he,

"been sothe and therto profitable, but trewely myn herte is troubled with this sorwe

so grevously that I noot what to doone."

"Lat calle," quod Prudence, "thy trewe freendes alle and thy lynage whiche that been wise. Telleth youre cas,

and herkneth what they seye in conseillyng, and yow governe after hire sentence.

Salomon seith, `Werk alle thy thynges by conseil, and thou shalt never repente.'"

Thanne, by the conseil of his wyf Prudence, this Melibeus leet callen a greet congregacion of folk,

as surgiens, phisiciens, olde folk and yonge, and somme of his olde enemys reconsiled

as by hir semblaunt to his love and into his grace;

and therwithal ther coomen somme of his neighebores that diden hym reverence

moore for drede than for love, as it happeth ofte.

Ther coomen also ful many subtille flatereres and wise advocatz lerned in the lawe.

And whan this folk togidre assembled weren, this Melibeus in sorweful wise shewed hem his cas.

And by the manere of his speche it semed that in herte he baar a crueel ire,

redy to doon vengeaunce upon his foes, and sodeynly desired that the werre sholde bigynne;

1010 but nathelees, yet axed he hire conseil upon this matiere.

A surgien, by licence and assent of swiche as weren wise, up roos

and to Melibeus seyde as ye may heere:

"Sire," quod he, "as to us surgiens aperteneth that we do to every wight the beste that we kan,

where as we been withholde, and to oure pacientz that we do no damage,

wherfore it happeth many tyme and ofte that whan twey men han everich wounded oother,

oon same surgien heeleth hem bothe;

wherfore unto oure art it is nat pertinent to norice werre ne parties to supporte.

But certes, as to the warisshynge of youre doghter, al be it so that she perilously be wounded,

we shullen do so ententif bisynesse fro day to nyght that with the grace of God

she shal be hool and sound as soone as is possible."

Almoost right in the same wise the phisiciens answerden, save that they seyden a fewe woordes moore:

that right as maladies been cured by hir contraries, right so shul men warisshe werre by vengeaunce.

His neighebores ful of envye, his feyned freendes that semeden reconsiled, and his flatereres

maden semblant of wepyng, and empeireden and agreggeden muchel of this matiere

in preisynge greetly Melibee of myght, of power, of richesse, and of freendes, despisynge the power of his adversaries,

1020 and seiden outrely that he anon sholde wreken hym on his foes and bigynne werre.

Up roos thanne an advocat that was wys,

by leve and by conseil of othere that were wise, and seide:

"Lordynges, the nede for which we been assembled in this place

is a ful hevy thyng and an heigh matiere,

by cause of the wrong and of the wikkednesse that hath be doon,

and eek by resoun of the grete damages that in tyme comynge

been possible to fallen for this same cause,

and eek by resoun of the grete richesse and power of the parties bothe,

for the whiche resouns it were a ful greet peril to erren in this matiere.

Wherfore, Melibeus, this is oure sentence: we conseille yow aboven alle thyng that right anon thou do thy diligence

in kepynge of thy propre persone in swich a wise

that thou ne wante noon espie ne wacche thy persone for to save.

And after that, we conseille that in thyn hous thou sette sufficeant garnisoun

so that they may as wel thy body as thyn hous defende.

But certes, for to moeve werre, ne sodeynly for to doon vengeaunce, we may nat demen

in so litel tyme that it were profitable.

Wherfore we axen leyser and espace to have deliberacion in this cas to deme.

1030 For the commune proverbe seith thus: `He that soone deemeth, soone shal repente.'

And eek men seyn that thilke juge is wys that soone understondeth a matiere and juggeth by leyser;

for al be it so that alle tariyng be anoyful,

algates it is nat to repreve in yevynge of juggement ne in vengeance takyng,

whan it is sufficeant and resonable.

And that shewed oure Lord Jhesu Crist by ensample, for whan that the womman that was taken in avowtrie

was broght in his presence to knowen what sholde be doon with hire persone, al be it so that he wiste wel hymself what

that he wolde answere, yet ne wolde he nat answere sodeynly,

but he wolde have deliberacion, and in the ground he wroot twies.

And by thise causes we axen deliberacioun, and we shal thanne, by the grace of God, conseille thee

thyng that shal be profitable."

Up stirten thanne the yonge folk atones, and the mooste partie of that compaignye han scorned this olde wise

man, and bigonnen to make noyse, and seyden that

right so as whil that iren is hoot men sholden smyte,

right so men sholde wreken hir wronges whil that they been fresshe and newe;

and with loud voys they criden "Werre! Werre!"

Up roos tho oon of thise olde wise, and with his hand made contenaunce that

men sholde holden hem stille and yeven hym audience.

"Lordynges," quod he, "ther is ful many a man that crieth `Werre, werre!'

that woot ful litel what werre amounteth.

Werre at his bigynnyng hath so greet an entryng and so large that every wight may entre

whan hym liketh and lightly fynde werre;

1040 but certes what ende that shal therof bifalle, it is nat light to knowe.

For soothly, whan that werre is ones bigonne, ther is ful many a child unborn of his mooder

that shal sterve yong by cause of thilke werre, or elles lyve in sorwe and dye in wrecchednesse.

And therfore, er that any werre bigynne, men moste have greet conseil and greet deliberacion."

And whan this olde man wende to enforcen his tale by resons, wel ny alle atones bigonne they

to rise for to breken his tale, and beden hym ful ofte his wordes for to abregge.

For soothly, he that precheth to hem that listen nat heeren his wordes, his sermon hem anoieth.

For Jhesus Syrak seith that "musik in wepynge is a noyous thyng"; this is to seyn:

as muche availleth to speken bifore folk to which his speche anoyeth

as it is to synge biforn hym that wepeth.

And whan this wise man saugh that hym wanted audience, al shamefast he sette hym doun agayn.

For Salomon seith: "Ther as thou ne mayst have noon audience, enforce thee nat to speke."

"I see wel," quod this wise man, "that the commune proverbe is sooth, that

`good conseil wanteth whan it is moost nede.'"

Yet hadde this Melibeus in his conseil many folk that prively in his eere conseilled hym certeyn thyng,

and conseilled hym the contrarie in general audience.

1050 Whan Melibeus hadde herd that the gretteste partie of his conseil weren accorded that he sholde maken werre,

1050A anoon he consented to hir conseillyng and fully affermed hire sentence.

Thanne dame Prudence, whan that she saugh how that hir housbonde shoop hym for to wreken hym on his

foes and to bigynne werre, she in ful humble wise, whan she saugh hir tyme, seide to hym thise wordes:

"My lord," quod she, "I yow biseche, as hertely as I dar and kan,

ne haste yow nat to faste and, for alle gerdons, as yeveth me audience.

For Piers Alfonce seith, `Whoso that dooth to thee oother good or harm, haste thee nat to quiten it,

for in this wise thy freend wole abyde and thyn enemy shal the lenger lyve in drede.'

The proverbe seith, `He hasteth wel that wisely kan abyde,' and `in wikked haste is no profit.'"

This Melibee answerde unto his wyf Prudence: "I purpose nat," quod he, "to werke by thy conseil,

for many causes and resouns. For certes, every wight wolde holde me thanne a fool;

this is to seyn, if I, for thy conseillyng, wolde chaungen

thynges that been ordeyned and affermed by so manye wyse.

Secoundely, I seye that alle wommen been wikke, and noon good of hem alle.

For `of a thousand men,' seith Salomon, `I foond o good man, but certes,

of alle wommen, good womman foond I nevere.'

And also, certes, if I governed me by thy conseil,

it sholde seme that I hadde yeve to thee over me the maistrie,

and God forbede that it so weere!

For Jhesus Syrak seith that `if the wyf have maistrie, she is contrarious to hir housbonde.'

1060 And Salomon seith: `Nevere in thy lyf to thy wyf, ne to thy child, ne to thy freend

1060A ne yeve no power over thyself, for bettre it were that thy children

1060B aske of thy persone thynges that hem nedeth than thou see thyself

1060C in the handes of thy children.'

And also if I wolde werke by thy conseillyng, certes, my conseil moste som tyme be secree,

til it were tyme that it moste be knowe, and this ne may noght be.

Whanne dame Prudence, ful debonairly and with greet pacience, hadde herd al that hir housbonde liked for to seye,

thanne axed she of hym licence for to speke, and seyde in this wise:

"My lord," quod she, "as to youre firste resoun, certes it may lightly been answered. For I seye that

it is no folie to chaunge conseil whan the thyng is chaunged,

or elles whan the thyng semeth ootherweyes than it was biforn.

And mooreover, I seye that though ye han sworn and bihight to perfourne youre emprise, and nathelees ye weyve

to perfourne thilke same emprise by juste cause, men sholde nat seyn therfore that ye were a liere ne forsworn.

For the book seith that `the wise man maketh no lesyng whan he turneth his corage to the bettre.'

And al be it so that youre emprise be establissed and ordeyned by greet multitude of folk,

yet thar ye nat accomplice thilke ordinaunce but yow like.

For the trouthe of thynges and the profit been rather founden in fewe folk that been wise and

ful of resoun than by greet multitude of folk ther every man crieth and clatereth what that hym liketh.

Soothly swich multitude is nat honest.

1070 And as to the seconde resoun, where as ye seyn that alle wommen been wikke;

1070A save youre grace, certes ye despisen alle wommen in this wyse, and

1070B `he that al despiseth, al displeseth,' as seith the book.

And Senec seith that `whoso wole have sapience shal no man dispreyse,

but he shal gladly techen the science that he kan withouten presumpcion or pride;

and swiche thynges as he noght ne kan, he shal nat been ashamed to lerne hem,

and enquere of lasse folk than hymself.'

And, sire, that ther hath been many a good womman may lightly be preved.

For certes, sire, oure Lord Jhesu Crist wolde nevere have descended to be born of a womman,

if alle wommen hadden been wikke.

And after that, for the grete bountee that is in wommen,

oure Lord Jhesu Crist, whan he was risen fro deeth to lyve,

appeered rather to a womman than to his Apostles.

And though that Salomon seith that he ne foond nevere womman good,

it folweth nat therfore that alle wommen ben wikke.

For though that he ne foond no good womman, certes,

many another man hath founden many a womman ful good and trewe.

Or elles, per aventure, the entente of Salomon was this:

that, as in sovereyn bounte, he foond no womman --

this is to seyn, that ther is no wight that hath sovereyn bountee save God allone,

as he hymself recordeth in hys Evaungelie.

1080 For ther nys no creature so good that hym ne wanteth

1080A somwhat of the perfeccioun of God, that is his makere.

Youre thridde reson is this: ye seyn that if ye governe yow by my conseil,

it sholde seme that ye hadde yeve me the maistrie and the lordshipe over youre persone.

Sire, save youre grace, it is nat so. For if it so were that no man sholde be conseilled

but oonly of hem that hadden lordshipe and maistrie of his persone, men wolden nat be conseilled so ofte.

For soothly thilke man that asketh conseil of a purpos, yet hath he free choys

wheither he wole werke by that conseil or noon.

And as to youre fourthe resoun, ther ye seyn that the janglerie of wommen kan hyde thynges that they

wot noght, as who seith that a womman kan nat hyde that she woot;

sire, thise wordes been understonde of wommen that been jangleresses and wikked;

of whiche wommen men seyn that thre thynges dryven a man out of his hous --

that is to seyn, smoke, droppyng of reyn, and wikked wyves;

and of swiche wommen seith Salomon that

`it were bettre dwelle in desert than with a womman that is riotous.'

And sire, by youre leve, that am nat I,

for ye han ful ofte assayed my grete silence and my grete pacience, and eek how wel that

I kan hyde and hele thynges that men oghte secreely to hyde.

1090 And soothly, as to youre fifthe resoun, where as ye seyn that in wikked conseil wommen venquisshe men,

1090A God woot, thilke resoun stant heere in no stede.

For understoond now, ye asken conseil to do wikkednesse;

and if ye wole werken wikkednesse, and youre wif restreyneth thilke wikked purpos,

and overcometh yow by reson and by good conseil,

certes youre wyf oghte rather to be preised than yblamed.

Thus sholde ye understonde the philosophre that seith, `In wikked conseil wommen venquisshen hir housbondes.'

And ther as ye blamen alle wommen and hir resouns, I shal shewe yow by manye ensamples that

many a womman hath ben ful good, and yet been, and hir conseils ful hoolsome and profitable.

Eek som men han seyd that the conseillynge of wommen

is outher to deere or elles to litel of pris.

But al be it so that ful many a womman is badde and hir conseil vile and noght worth,

yet han men founde ful many a good womman, and ful discret and wis in conseillynge.

Loo, Jacob by good conseil of his mooder Rebekka wan the benysoun of Ysaak his fader

and the lordshipe over alle his bretheren.

Judith by hire good conseil delivered the citee of Bethulie, in which she dwelled,

out of the handes of Olofernus, that hadde it biseged and wolde have al destroyed it.

1100 Abygail delivered Nabal hir housbonde fro David the kyng, that wolde have slayn hym,

1100A and apaysed the ire of the kyng by hir wit and by hir good conseillyng.

Hester by hir good conseil enhaunced greetly the peple of God in the regne of Assuerus the kyng.

And the same bountee in good conseillyng of many a good womman may men telle.

And mooreover, whan oure Lord hadde creat Adam, oure forme fader, he seyde in this wise:

`It is nat good to been a man alloone; make we to hym an helpe semblable to hymself.'

Heere may ye se that if that wommen were nat goode, and hir conseils goode and profitable,

oure Lord God of hevene wolde nevere han wroght hem,

ne called hem help of man, but rather confusioun of man.

And ther seyde oones a clerk in two vers, `What is bettre than gold? Jaspre.

What is bettre than jaspre? Wisedoom.

And what is better than wisedoom? Womman. And what is bettre than a good womman? Nothyng.'

And, sire, by manye of othre resons may ye seen that

manye wommen been goode, and hir conseils goode and profitable.

1110 And therfore, sire, if ye wol triste to my conseil, I shal restoore yow youre doghter hool and sound.

And eek I wol do to yow so muche that ye shul have honour in this cause."

Whan Melibee hadde herd the wordes of his wyf Prudence, he seyde thus:

"I se wel that the word of Salomon is sooth.

He seith that `wordes that been spoken discreetly by ordinaunce been honycombes,

for they yeven swetnesse to the soule and hoolsomnesse to the body.'

And, wyf, by cause of thy sweete wordes, and eek for I have assayed and preved thy grete sapience

and thy grete trouthe, I wol governe me by thy conseil in alle thyng."

"Now, sire," quod dame Prudence, "and syn ye vouche sauf to been governed by my conseil,

I wol enforme yow how ye shul governe yourself in chesynge of youre conseillours.

Ye shul first in alle youre werkes mekely biseken to the heighe God that he wol be youre conseillour;

and shapeth yow to swich entente that he yeve yow conseil and confort, as taughte Thobie his sone:

`At alle tymes thou shalt blesse God, and praye hym to dresse thy weyes,

and looke that alle thy conseils been in hym for everemoore.'

Seint Jame eek seith: `If any of yow have nede of sapience, axe it of God.'

1120 And afterward thanne shul ye taken conseil in youreself,

1120A and examyne wel youre thoghtes of swich thyng as yow thynketh that is best for youre profit.

And thanne shul ye dryve fro youre herte thre thynges that been contrariouse to good conseil;

that is to seyn, ire, coveitise, and hastifnesse.

"First, he that axeth conseil of hymself, certes he moste been withouten ire, for manye causes.

The firste is this: he that hath greet ire and wratthe in hymself, he weneth alwey that

he may do thyng that he may nat do.

And secoundely, he that is irous and wrooth, he ne may nat wel deme;

and he that may nat wel deme, may nat wel conseille.

The thridde is this, that he that is irous and wrooth, as seith Senec,

ne may nat speke but blameful thynges,

and with his viciouse wordes he stireth oother folk to angre and to ire.

And eek, sire, ye moste dryve coveitise out of youre herte.

1130 For the Apostle seith that coveitise is roote of alle harmes.

And trust wel that a coveitous man ne kan noght deme ne thynke,

but oonly to fulfille the ende of his coveitise;

and certes, that ne may nevere been accompliced,

for evere the moore habundaunce that he hath of richesse, the moore he desireth.

And, sire, ye moste also dryve out of youre herte hastifnesse; for certes,

ye ne may nat deeme for the beste by a sodeyn thought that falleth in youre herte,

but ye moste avyse yow on it ful ofte.

For, as ye herde her biforn, the commune proverbe is this, that `he that soone deemeth, soone repenteth.'

Sire, ye ne be nat alwey in lyk disposicioun;

for certes, somthyng that somtyme semeth to yow that it is good for to do,

another tyme it semeth to yow the contrarie.

"Whan ye han taken conseil in youreself and han deemed by good deliberacion swich thyng as you semeth best,

thanne rede I yow that ye kepe it secree.

1140 Biwrey nat youre conseil to no persone, but if so be that ye wenen sikerly that

1140A thurgh youre biwreyyng youre condicioun shal be to yow the moore profitable.

For Jhesus Syrak seith, `Neither to thy foo ne to thy frend discovere nat thy secree ne thy folie,

for they wol yeve yow audience and lookynge and supportacioun in thy presence and scorne thee in thyn absence.'

Another clerk seith that `scarsly shaltou fynden any persone that may kepe conseil secrely.'

The book seith, `Whil that thou kepest thy conseil in thyn herte, thou kepest it in thy prisoun,

and whan thou biwreyest thy conseil to any wight, he holdeth thee in his snare.'

And therfore yow is bettre to hyde youre conseil in youre herte than praye him

to whom ye han biwreyed youre conseil that he wole kepen it cloos and stille.

For Seneca seith: `If so be that thou ne mayst nat thyn owene conseil hyde,

how darstou prayen any oother wight thy conseil secrely to kepe?'

But nathelees, if thou wene sikerly that the biwreiyng of thy conseil to a persone wol make

thy condicion to stonden in the bettre plyt, thanne shaltou tellen hym thy conseil in this wise.

First thou shalt make no semblant wheither thee were levere pees or werre, or this or that,

ne shewe hym nat thy wille and thyn entente.

1150 For trust wel that comunli thise conseillours been flatereres,

namely the conseillours of grete lordes,

for they enforcen hem alwey rather to speken plesante wordes, enclynynge to the lordes lust,

than wordes that been trewe or profitable.

And therfore men seyn that the riche man hath seeld good conseil, but if he have it of hymself.

And after that thou shalt considere thy freendes and thyne enemys.

And as touchynge thy freendes, thou shalt considere which of hem been

moost feithful and moost wise and eldest and most approved in conseillyng;

and of hem shalt thou aske thy conseil, as the caas requireth.

I seye that first ye shul clepe to youre conseil youre freendes that been trewe.

For Salomon seith that `right as the herte of a man deliteth in savour that is soote,

right so the conseil of trewe freendes yeveth swetnesse to the soule.'

He seith also, `Ther may no thyng be likned to the trewe freend,

1160 for certes gold ne silver ben nat so muche worth as the goode wyl of a trewe freend.'

And eek he seith that `a trewe freend is a strong deffense; who so that it fyndeth,

certes he fyndeth a greet tresour.'

Thanne shul ye eek considere if that youre trewe freendes been discrete and wise.

For the book seith, `Axe alwey thy conseil of hem that been wise.'

And by this same resoun shul ye clepen to youre conseil of youre freendes that been of age,

swiche as han seyn and been expert in manye thynges and been approved in conseillynges.

For the book seith that `in olde men is the sapience, and in longe tyme the prudence.'

And Tullius seith that `grete thynges ne been nat ay accompliced by strengthe, ne by delivernesse of body, but

by good conseil, by auctoritee of persones, and by science; the whiche thre thynges ne been nat fieble by age,

but certes they enforcen and encreescen day by day.'

And thanne shul ye kepe this for a general reule: First shul ye clepen to youre conseil

a fewe of youre freendes that been especiale;

for Salomon seith, `Manye freendes have thou, but among a thousand chese thee oon to be thy conseillour.'

For al be it so that thou first ne telle thy conseil but to a fewe,

thou mayst afterward telle it to mo folk if it be nede.

But looke alwey that thy conseillours have thilke thre condiciouns that I have seyd bifore --

that is to seyn, that they be trewe, wise, and of oold experience.

1170 And werke nat alwey in every nede by oon counseillour allone;

1170A for somtyme bihooveth it to been conseilled by manye.

For Salomon seith, `Salvacion of thynges is where as ther been manye conseillours.'

"Now, sith that I have toold yow of which folk ye sholde been counseilled, now

wol I teche yow which conseil ye oghte to eschewe.

First, ye shul eschue the conseillyng of fooles; for Salomon seith, `Taak no conseil of a fool,

for he ne kan noght conseille but after his owene lust and his affeccioun.'

The book seith that `the propretee of a fool is this: he troweth lightly harm of every wight,

and lightly troweth alle bountee in hymself.'

Thou shalt eek eschue the conseillyng of alle flatereres, swiche as enforcen hem rather to preise youre persone

by flaterye than for to telle yow the soothfastnesse of thynges.

Wherfore Tullius seith, `Amonges alle the pestilences that been in freendshipe the gretteste is flaterie.'

And therfore is it moore nede that thou eschue and drede flatereres than any oother peple.

The book seith, `Thou shalt rather drede and flee fro the sweete wordes of flaterynge preiseres

than fro the egre wordes of thy freend that seith thee thy sothes.'

Salomon seith that `the wordes of a flaterere is a snare to cacche with innocentz.'

He seith also that `he that speketh to his freend wordes of swetnesse and of plesaunce

setteth a net biforn his feet to cacche hym.'

1180 And therfore seith Tullius, `Enclyne nat thyne eres to flatereres, ne taak no conseil of the wordes of flaterye.'

And Caton seith, `Avyse thee wel, and eschue the wordes of swetnesse and of plesaunce.'

And eek thou shalt eschue the conseillyng of thyne olde enemys that been reconsiled.

The book seith that `no wight retourneth saufly into the grace of his olde enemy.'

And Isope seith, `Ne trust nat to hem to whiche thou hast had som tyme werre or enemytee,

ne telle hem nat thy conseil.'

And Seneca telleth the cause why: `It may nat be,' seith he, `that where greet

fyr hath longe tyme endured, that ther ne dwelleth som vapour of warmnesse.'

And therfore seith Salomon, `In thyn olde foo trust nevere.'

For sikerly, though thyn enemy be reconsiled, and maketh thee chiere of humylitee,

and lowteth to thee with his heed, ne trust hym nevere.

For certes he maketh thilke feyned humilitee moore for his profit than for any love of thy persone,

by cause that he deemeth to have victorie over thy persone by swich feyned contenance,

the which victorie he myghte nat have by strif or werre.

And Peter Alfonce seith, `Make no felawshipe with thyne olde enemys, for if thou do hem bountee,

they wol perverten it into wikkednesse.'

1190 And eek thou most eschue the conseillyng of hem that been thy servantz and beren thee greet reverence,

1190A for peraventure they seyn it moore for drede than for love.

And therfore seith a philosophre in this wise:

`Ther is no wight parfitly trewe to hym that he to soore dredeth.'

And Tullius seith, `Ther nys no myght so greet of any emperour that longe may endure,

but if he have moore love of the peple than drede.'

Thou shalt also eschue the conseiling of folk that been dronkelewe, for they ne kan no conseil hyde.

For Salomon seith, `Ther is no privetee ther as regneth dronkenesse.'

Ye shul also han in suspect the conseillyng of swich folk as

conseille yow o thyng prively and conseille yow the contrarie openly.

For Cassidorie seith that `it is a manere sleighte to hyndre,

whan he sheweth to doon o thyng openly and werketh prively the contrarie.'

Thou shalt also have in suspect the conseillyng of wikked folk. For the book seith,

`The conseillyng of wikked folk is alwey ful of fraude.'

And David seith, `Blisful is that man that hath nat folwed the conseilyng of shrewes.'

Thou shalt also eschue the conseillyng of yong folk, for hir conseil is nat rype.

1200 "Now, sire, sith I have shewed yow of which folk ye shul take youre conseil

1200A and of which folk ye shul folwe the conseil,

now wol I teche yow how ye shal examyne youre conseil, after the doctrine of Tullius.

In the examynynge thanne of youre conseillour ye shul considere manye thynges.

Alderfirst thou shalt considere that in thilke thyng that thou purposest, and upon what thyng thou wolt have conseil,

that verray trouthe be seyd and conserved; this is to seyn, telle trewely thy tale.

For he that seith fals may nat wel be conseilled in that cas of which he lieth.

And after this thou shalt considere the thynges that acorden to that thou purposest

for to do by thy conseillours, if resoun accorde therto,

and eek if thy myght may atteine therto, and if the moore part

and the bettre part of thy conseillours acorde therto, or noon.

Thanne shaltou considere what thyng shal folwe of that conseillyng,

as hate, pees, werre, grace, profit, or damage, and manye othere thynges.

And in alle thise thynges thou shalt chese the beste and weyve alle othere thynges.

Thanne shaltow considere of what roote is engendred the matiere of thy conseil

and what fruyt it may conceyve and engendre.

1210 Thou shalt eek considere alle thise causes, fro whennes they been sprongen.

And whan ye han examyned youre conseil, as I have seyd, and which partie is the bettre

and moore profitable, and han approved it by manye wise folk and olde,

thanne shaltou considere if thou mayst parfourne it and maken of it a good ende.

For certes resoun wol nat that any man sholde bigynne a thyng

but if he myghte parfourne it as hym oghte;

ne no wight sholde take upon hym so hevy a charge that he myghte nat bere it.

For the proverbe seith, `He that to muche embraceth, distreyneth litel.'

And Catoun seith, `Assay to do swich thyng as thou hast power to doon,

lest that the charge oppresse thee so soore that

thee bihoveth to weyve thyng that thou hast bigonne.'

And if so be that thou be in doute wheither thou mayst parfourne a thing or noon,

chese rather to suffre than bigynne.

And Piers Alphonce seith, `If thou hast myght to doon a thyng of which thou most repente,

it is bettre "nay" than "ye."'

This is to seyn, that thee is bettre holde thy tonge stille than for to speke.

1220 Thanne may ye understonde by strenger resons that if thou hast power to parfourne a werk

1220A of which thou shalt repente, thanne is it bettre that thou suffre than bigynne.

Wel seyn they that defenden every wight to assaye a thyng of which he is in doute

wheither he may parfourne it or noon.

And after, whan ye han examyned youre conseil, as I have seyd biforn, and knowen wel that

ye may parfourne youre emprise, conferme it thanne sadly til it be at an ende.

"Now is it resoun and tyme that I shewe yow whanne and wherfore that

ye may chaunge youre counseil withouten youre repreve.

Soothly, a man may chaungen his purpos and his conseil if the cause cesseth,

or whan a newe caas bitydeth.

For the lawe seith that `upon thynges that newely bityden bihoveth newe conseil.'

And Senec seith, `If thy conseil is comen to the eeris of thyn enemy, chaunge thy conseil.'

Thou mayst also chaunge thy conseil if so be that thou fynde that by errour,

or by oother cause, harm or damage may bityde.

Also if thy conseil be dishonest, or ellis cometh of dishonest cause, chaunge thy conseil.

For the lawes seyn that `alle bihestes that been dishoneste been of no value';

1230 and eek if so be that it be inpossible, or may nat goodly be parfourned or kept.

"And take this for a general reule, that every conseil that is affermed so strongly that it may nat

be chaunged for no condicioun that may bityde, I seye that thilke conseil is wikked."

This Melibeus, whanne he hadde herd the doctrine of his wyf dame Prudence, answerde in this wyse:

"Dame," quod he, "as yet into this tyme ye han wel and covenably taught me as in general how

I shal governe me in the chesynge and in the withholdynge of my conseillours.

But now wolde I fayn that ye wolde condescende in especial

and telle me how liketh yow, or what semeth yow, by oure conseillours

that we han chosen in oure present nede."

"My lord," quod she, "I biseke yow in al humblesse that ye wol nat wilfully replie agayn my resouns,

ne distempre youre herte, thogh I speke thyng that yow displese.

For God woot that, as in myn entente, I speke it for youre beste,

for youre honour, and for youre profite eke.

And soothly, I hope that youre benyngnytee wol taken it in pacience.

Trusteth me wel," quod she, "that youre conseil as in this caas ne sholde nat, as to speke properly,

be called a conseillyng, but a mocioun or a moevyng of folye,

1240 in which conseil ye han erred in many a sondry wise.

"First and forward, ye han erred in th' assemblynge of youre conseillours.

For ye sholde first have cleped a fewe folk to youre conseil, and after ye myghte han shewed it

to mo folk, if it hadde been nede.

But certes, ye han sodeynly cleped to youre conseil a greet multitude of peple,

ful chargeant and ful anoyous for to heere.

Also ye han erred, for theras ye sholden oonly have cleped to youre conseil

youre trewe frendes olde and wise,

ye han ycleped straunge folk, yonge folk, false flatereres, and enemys reconsiled,

and folk that doon yow reverence withouten love.

And eek also ye have erred, for ye han broght with yow to youre conseil ire, coveitise, and hastifnesse,

the whiche thre thinges been contrariouse to every conseil honest and profitable;

the whiche thre thinges ye han nat anientissed or destroyed hem,

neither in youreself, ne in youre conseillours, as yow oghte.

Ye han erred also, for ye han shewed to youre conseillours

youre talent and youre affeccioun to make werre anon and for to do vengeance.

1250 They han espied by youre wordes to what thyng ye been enclyned;

and therfore han they rather conseilled yow to youre talent than to youre profit.

Ye han erred also, for it semeth that yow suffiseth

to han been conseilled by thise conseillours oonly, and with litel avys,

whereas in so greet and so heigh a nede it hadde been necessarie mo conseillours

and moore deliberacion to parfourne youre emprise.

Ye han erred also, for ye ne han nat examyned youre conseil in the forseyde manere,

ne in due manere, as the caas requireth.

Ye han erred also, for ye han maked no division bitwixe youre conseillours -- this is to seyn,

bitwixen youre trewe freendes and youre feyned conseillours --

ne ye han nat knowe the wil of youre trewe freendes olde and wise,

but ye han cast alle hire wordes in an hochepot, and enclyned youre herte to the moore part

and to the gretter nombre, and there been ye condescended.

And sith ye woot wel that men shal alwey fynde a gretter nombre of fooles than of wise men,

and therfore the conseils that been at congregaciouns and multitudes of folk, there as men take moore reward

to the nombre than to the sapience of persones,

1260 ye se wel that in swiche conseillynges fooles han the maistrie."

Melibeus answerde agayn, and seyde, "I graunte wel that I have erred;

but there as thou hast toold me heerbiforn

that he nys nat to blame that chaungeth his conseillours in certein caas and for certeine juste causes,

I am al redy to chaunge my conseillours right as thow wolt devyse.

The proverbe seith that `for to do synne is mannyssh,

but certes for to persevere longe in synne is werk of the devel.'"

To this sentence answered anon dame Prudence, and seyde,

"Examineth," quod she, "youre conseil, and lat us see

the whiche of hem han spoken most resonably and taught yow best conseil.

And for as muche as that the examynacion is necessarie, lat us bigynne at the surgiens

and at the phisiciens, that first speeken in this matiere.

I sey yow that the surgiens and phisiciens han seyd yow in youre conseil discreetly, as hem oughte,

and in hir speche seyden ful wisely that to the office of hem aperteneth to doon to every wight

honour and profit, and no wight for to anoye,

1270 and after hir craft to doon greet diligence

1270A unto the cure of hem which that they han in hir governaunce.

And, sire, right as they han answered wisely and discreetly,

right so rede I that they been heighly and sovereynly gerdoned for hir noble speche,

and eek for they sholde do the moore ententif bisynesse in the curacion of youre doghter deere.

For al be it so that they been youre freendes, therfore shal ye nat suffren

that they serve yow for noght,

but ye oghte the rather gerdone hem and shewe hem youre largesse.

And as touchynge the proposicioun which that the phisiciens encreesceden in this caas -- this is to seyn,

that in maladies that oon contrarie is warisshed by another contrarie --

I wolde fayn knowe hou ye understonde thilke text, and what is youre sentence."

"Certes," quod Melibeus, "I understonde it in this wise:

1280 that right as they han doon me a contrarie, right so sholde I doon hem another.

For right as they han venged hem on me and doon me wrong,

right so shal I venge me upon hem and doon hem wrong;

and thanne have I cured oon contrarie by another."

"Lo, lo," quod dame Prudence, "how lightly is every man enclined to his owene desir

and to his owene plesaunce!

Certes," quod she, "the wordes of the phisiciens ne sholde nat han been understonden in thys wise.

For certes, wikkednesse is nat contrarie to wikkednesse, ne vengeance to vengeaunce,

ne wrong to wrong, but they been semblable.

And therfore o vengeaunce is nat warisshed by another vengeaunce, ne o wroong by another wroong,

but everich of hem encreesceth and aggreggeth oother.

But certes, the wordes of the phisiciens sholde been understonden in this wise:

for good and wikkednesse been two contraries, and pees and werre, vengeaunce

and suffraunce, discord and accord, and manye othere thynges;

1290 but certes, wikkednesse shal be warisshed by goodnesse, discord by accord, werre by pees,

1290A and so forth of othere thynges.

And heerto accordeth Seint Paul the Apostle in manye places.

He seith, `Ne yeldeth nat harm for harm, ne wikked speche for wikked speche,

but do wel to hym that dooth thee harm and blesse hym that seith to thee harm.'

And in manye othere places he amonesteth pees and accord.

But now wol I speke to yow of the conseil which that was yeven to yow

by the men of lawe and the wise folk,

that seyden alle by oon accord, as ye han herd bifore,

that over alle thynges ye shal doon youre diligence to kepen youre persone and to warnestoore youre hous;

and seyden also that in this caas yow oghten for to werken ful avysely and with greet deliberacioun.

And, sire, as to the firste point, that toucheth to the kepyng of youre persone,

1300 ye shul understonde that he that hath werre shal everemoore mekely and devoutly preyen, biforn alle thynges,

that Jhesus Crist of his mercy wol han hym in his proteccion

and been his sovereyn helpyng at his nede.

For certes, in this world ther is no wight that may be conseilled ne kept sufficeantly

withouten the kepyng of oure Lord Jhesu Crist.

To this sentence accordeth the prophete David, that seith,

`If God ne kepe the citee, in ydel waketh he that it kepeth.'

Now, sire, thanne shul ye committe the kepyng of youre persone

to youre trewe freendes that been approved and yknowe,

and of hem shul ye axen help youre persone for to kepe. For Catoun seith,

`If thou hast nede of help, axe it of thy freendes,

for ther nys noon so good a phisicien as thy trewe freend.'

And after this thanne shul ye kepe yow fro alle straunge folk, and fro lyeres,

and have alwey in suspect hire compaignye.

For Piers Alfonce seith, `Ne taak no compaignye by the weye of a straunge man,

but if so be that thou have knowe hym of a lenger tyme.

1310 And if so be that he falle into thy compaignye paraventure, withouten thyn assent,

enquere thanne as subtilly as thou mayst of his conversacion, and of his lyf bifore, and feyne thy wey;

seye that [thou] wolt thider as thou wolt nat go;

and if he bereth a spere, hoold thee on the right syde,

and if he bere a swerd, hoold thee on the lift syde.'

And after this thanne shul ye kepe yow wisely from all swich manere peple as I have seyd bifore,

and hem and hir conseil eschewe.

And after this thanne shul ye kepe yow in swich manere

that, for any presumpcion of youre strengthe, that ye ne dispise nat, ne accompte nat the myght

of youre adversarie so litel that ye lete the kepyng of youre persone for youre presumpcioun,

for every wys man dredeth his enemy.

And Salomon seith, `Weleful is he that of alle hath drede,

for certes, he that thurgh the hardynesse of his herte and thurgh the hardynesse of hymself hath

to greet presumpcioun, hym shal yvel bityde.'

Thanne shul ye everemoore contrewayte embusshementz and alle espiaille.

1320 For Senec seith that `the wise man that dredeth harmes, eschueth harmes,

ne he ne falleth into perils that perils eschueth.'

And al be it so that it seme that thou art in siker place,

yet shaltow alwey do thy diligence in kepynge of thy persone;

this is to seyn, ne be nat necligent to kepe thy persone

nat oonly fro thy gretteste enemys but fro thy leeste enemy.

Senek seith, `A man that is well avysed, he dredeth his leste enemy.'

Ovyde seith that `the litel wesele wol slee the grete bole and the wilde hert.'

And the book seith, `A litel thorn may prikke a kyng ful soore,

and an hound wol holde the wilde boor.'

But nathelees, I sey nat thou shalt be so coward that thou doute ther wher as is no drede.

The book seith that `somme folk han greet lust to deceyve, but yet they dreden hem to be deceyved.'

Yet shaltou drede to been empoisoned and kepe the from the compaignye of scorneres.

1330 For the book seith, `With scorneres make no compaignye, but flee hire wordes as venym.'

"Now, as to the seconde point,

where as youre wise conseillours conseilled yow to warnestoore youre hous with gret diligence,

I wolde fayn knowe how that ye understonde thilke wordes and what is youre sentence."

Melibeus answerde and seyde, "Certes, I understande it in this wise: That I shal warnestoore myn hous with toures,

swiche as han castelles and othere manere edifices, and armure, and artelries,

by whiche thynges I may my persone and myn hous so kepen and deffenden

that myne enemys shul been in drede myn hous for to approche."

To this sentence answerde anon Prudence: "Warnestooryng," quod she,

"of heighe toures and of grete edifices apperteyneth somtyme to pryde.

And eek men make heighe toures, [and grete edifices] with grete costages and with greet travaille,

and whan that they been accompliced, yet be they nat worth a stree,

but if they be defended by trewe freendes that been olde and wise.

And understoond wel that the gretteste and strongeste garnysoun that a riche man may have,

as wel to kepen his persone as his goodes, is

that he be biloved with hys subgetz and with his neighebores.

For thus seith Tullius, that `ther is a manere garnysoun

that no man may venquysse ne disconfite, and that is

1340 a lord to be biloved of his citezeins and of his peple.'

Now, sire, as to the thridde point, where as youre olde

and wise conseillours seyden that yow ne oghte nat sodeynly ne hastily proceden in this nede,

but that yow oghte purveyen and apparaillen yow in this caas with greet diligence and greet deliberacioun;

trewely, I trowe that they seyden right wisely and right sooth.

For Tullius seith, `In every nede, er thou bigynne it, apparaille thee with greet diligence.'

Thanne seye I that in vengeance-takyng, in werre, in bataille, and in warnestooryng,

er thow bigynne, I rede that thou apparaille thee therto, and do it with greet deliberacion.

For Tullius seith that `longe apparaillyng biforn the bataille maketh short victorie.'

And Cassidorus seith, `The garnysoun is stronger whan it is longe tyme avysed.'

But now lat us speken of the conseil that was accorded by youre neighebores,

swiche as doon yow reverence withouten love,

1350 youre olde enemys reconsiled, youre flatereres,

that conseilled yow certeyne thynges prively, and openly conseilleden yow the contrarie;

the yonge folk also, that conseilleden yow to venge yow and make werre anon.

And certes, sire, as I have seyd biforn, ye han greetly erred

to han cleped swich manere folk to youre conseil,

which conseillours been ynogh repreved by the resouns aforeseyd.

But nathelees, lat us now descende to the special. Ye shuln first procede after the doctrine of Tullius.

Certes, the trouthe of this matiere, or of this conseil, nedeth nat diligently enquere,

for it is wel wist whiche they been that han doon to yow this trespas and vileynye,

and how manye trespassours, and in what manere

they han to yow doon al this wrong and al this vileynye.

And after this, thanne shul ye examyne the seconde condicion which that the same Tullius addeth in this matiere.

1360 For Tullius put a thyng which that he clepeth `consentynge'; this is to seyn,

who been they, and whiche been they and how manye that consenten to thy conseil

in thy wilfulnesse to doon hastif vengeance.

And lat us considere also who been they, and how manye been they,

and whiche been they that consenteden to youre adversaries.

And certes, as to the firste poynt, it is wel knowen whiche folk been

they that consenteden to youre hastif wilfulnesse,

for trewely, alle tho that conseilleden yow to maken sodeyn werre ne been nat youre freendes.

Lat us now considere whiche been they that ye holde so greetly youre freendes as to youre persone.

For al be it so that ye be myghty and riche, certes ye ne been but allone,

for certes ye ne han no child but a doghter,

ne ye ne han bretheren, ne cosyns germayns, ne noon oother neigh kynrede,

wherfore that youre enemys for drede sholde stinte to plede with yow or to destroye youre persone.

1370 Ye knowen also that youre richesses mooten been dispended in diverse parties,

and whan that every wight hath his part, they ne wollen taken but litel reward to venge thy deeth.

But thyne enemys been thre, and they han manie children, bretheren, cosyns, and oother ny kynrede.

And though so were that thou haddest slayn of hem two or three, yet dwellen ther ynowe

to wreken hir deeth and to sle thy persone.

And though so be that youre kynrede be moore siker and stedefast than the kyn of youre adversarie,

yet nathelees youre kynrede nys but a fer kynrede; they been but litel syb to yow,

and the kyn of youre enemys been ny syb to hem.

And certes, as in that, hir condicioun is bet than youres.

Thanne lat us considere also if the conseillyng of hem that conseilleden yow to taken sodeyn vengeaunce,

wheither it accorde to resoun.

And certes, ye knowe wel `nay.'

For, as by right and resoun, ther may no man taken vengeance on no wight

but the juge that hath the jurisdiccioun of it,

1380 whan it is graunted hym to take thilke vengeance hastily or attemprely, as the lawe requireth.

And yet mooreover of thilke word that Tullius clepeth `consentynge,'

thou shalt considere if thy myght and thy power may consenten

and suffise to thy wilfulnesse and to thy conseillours.

And certes thou mayst wel seyn that `nay.'

For sikerly, as for to speke proprely, we may do no thyng

but oonly swich thyng as we may doon rightfully.

And certes rightfully ne mowe ye take no vengeance, as of youre propre auctoritee.

Thanne mowe ye seen that youre power ne consenteth nat, ne accordeth nat, with youre wilfulnesse.

"Lat us now examyne the thridde point, that Tullius clepeth `consequent.'

Thou shalt understonde that the vengeance that thou purposest for to take is the consequent;

and therof folweth another vengeaunce, peril, and werre, and othere damages withoute nombre,

of whiche we be nat war, as at this tyme.

1390 And as touchynge the fourthe point, that Tullius clepeth `engendrynge,'

thou shalt considere that this wrong which that is doon to thee

is engendred of the hate of thyne enemys,

and of the vengeance-takynge upon that wolde engendre another vengeance,

and muchel sorwe and wastynge of richesses, as I seyde.

"Now, sire, as to the point that Tullius clepeth `causes,' which that is the laste point,

thou shalt understonde that the wrong that thou hast receyved hath certeine causes,

whiche that clerkes clepen Oriens and Efficiens, and Causa longinqua and Causa propinqua;

this is to seyn, the fer cause and the ny cause.

The fer cause is almyghty God, that is cause of alle thynges.

The neer cause is thy thre enemys.

The cause accidental was hate.

The cause material been the fyve woundes of thy doghter.

1400 The cause formal is the manere of hir werkynge that broghten laddres and cloumben in at thy wyndowes.

The cause final was for to sle thy doghter. It letted nat in as muche as in hem was.

But for to speken of the fer cause, as to what ende they shul come, or what shal finally

bityde of hem in this caas, ne kan I nat deeme but by conjectynge and by supposynge.

For we shul suppose that they shul come to a wikked ende,

by cause that the Book of Decrees seith, `Seelden, or with greet peyne, been causes ybroght to good ende

whanne they been baddely bigonne.'

"Now, sire, if men wolde axe me why that God suffred men to do yow this vileynye,

certes, I kan nat wel answere, as for no soothfastnesse.

For th' apostle seith that `the sciences and the juggementz of oure Lord God almyghty been ful depe;

ther may no man comprehende ne serchen hem suffisantly.'

Nathelees, by certeyne presumpciouns and conjectynges, I holde and bileeve

that God, which that is ful of justice and of rightwisnesse, hath suffred this bityde by juste cause resonable.

1410 "Thy name is Melibee; this is to seyn, `a man that drynketh hony.'

Thou hast ydronke so muchel hony of sweete temporeel richesses, and delices and honours of this world

that thou art dronken and hast forgeten Jhesu Crist thy creatour.

Thou ne hast nat doon to hym swich honour and reverence as thee oughte,

ne thou ne hast nat wel ytaken kep to the wordes of Ovide, that seith,

`Under the hony of the goodes of the body is hyd the venym that sleeth the soule.'

And Salomon seith, `If thou hast founden hony, ete of it that suffiseth,

for if thou ete of it out of mesure, thou shalt spewe' and be nedy and povre.

And peraventure Crist hath thee in despit, and

hath turned awey fro thee his face and his eeris of misericorde,

and also he hath suffred that thou hast been punysshed in the manere that thow hast ytrespassed.

1420 Thou hast doon synne agayn oure Lord Crist,

for certes, the three enemys of mankynde

-- that is to seyn, the flessh, the feend, and the world --

thou hast suffred hem entre in to thyn herte wilfully by the wyndowes of thy body,

and hast nat defended thyself suffisantly agayns hire assautes and hire temptaciouns,

so that they han wounded thy soule in fyve places;

this is to seyn, the deedly synnes that been entred into thyn herte by thy fyve wittes.

And in the same manere oure Lord Crist hath woold and suffred

that thy three enemys been entred into thyn house by the wyndowes

and han ywounded thy doghter in the forseyde manere."

"Certes," quod Melibee, "I se wel that ye enforce yow muchel by wordes to overcome me in swich manere

that I shal nat venge me of myne enemys,

shewynge me the perils and the yveles that myghten falle of this vengeance.

But whoso wolde considere in alle vengeances the perils and yveles that myghte sewe of vengeance-takynge,

1430 a man wolde nevere take vengeance, and that were harm;

for by the vengeance-takynge been the wikked men dissevered fro the goode men,

and they that han wyl to do wikkednesse restreyne hir wikked purpos,

whan they seen the punyssynge and chastisynge of the trespassours."

And yet seye I moore, that right as a singuler persone synneth in takynge vengeance of another man,

right so synneth the juge if he do no vengeance of hem that it han disserved.

For Senec seith thus: `That maister,' he seith, `is good that proveth shrewes.'

And as Cassidore seith, `A man dredeth to do outrages whan he woot and knoweth

that it displeseth to the juges and the sovereyns.'

And another seith, `The juge that dredeth to do right maketh men shrewes.'

1440 And Seint Paul the Apostle seith in his Epistle, whan he writeth unto the Romayns, that

1440A `the juges beren nat the spere withouten cause,

but they beren it to punysse the shrewes and mysdoers and for to defende the goode men.'

If ye wol thanne take vengeance of youre enemys, ye shul retourne or have youre recours to the juge

that hath the jurisdiccion upon hem,

and he shal punysse hem as the lawe axeth and requireth."

"A," quod Melibee, "this vengeance liketh me no thyng.

I bithenke me now and take heede how Fortune hath norissed me fro my childhede

and hath holpen me to passe many a stroong paas.

Now wol I assayen hire, trowynge, with Goddes help, that she shal helpe me my shame for to venge."

"Certes," quod Prudence, "if ye wol werke by my conseil, ye shul nat assaye Fortune by no wey,

ne ye shul nat lene or bowe unto hire, after the word of Senec,

for `thynges that been folily doon, and that been in hope of Fortune, shullen nevere come to good ende.'

1450 And, as the same Senec seith, `The moore cleer and the moore shynyng that Fortune is,

1450A the moore brotil and the sonner broken she is.'

Trusteth nat in hire, for she nys nat stidefast ne stable,

for whan thow trowest to be moost seur or siker of hire help,

she wol faille thee and deceyve thee.

And where as ye seyn that Fortune hath norissed yow fro youre childhede,

I seye that in so muchel shul ye the lasse truste in hire and in hir wit.

For Senec seith, `What man that is norissed by Fortune, she maketh hym a greet fool.'

Now thanne, syn ye desire and axe vengeance, and the vengeance that is doon after the lawe

and bifore the juge ne liketh yow nat,

and the vengeance that is doon in hope of Fortune is perilous and uncertein,

thanne have ye noon oother remedie but for to have youre recours

unto the sovereyn Juge that vengeth alle vileynyes and wronges.

And he shal venge yow after that hymself witnesseth, where as he seith,

1460 `Leveth the vengeance to me, and I shal do it.'"

Melibee answerde, "If I ne venge me nat of the vileynye that men han doon to me,

I sompne or warne hem that han doon to me that vileynye,

and alle othere, to do me another vileynye.

For it is writen, `If thou take no vengeance of an oold vileynye,

thou sompnest thyne adversaries to do thee a newe vileynye.'

And also for my suffrance men wolden do me so muchel vileynye that

I myghte neither bere it ne susteene,

and so sholde I been put and holden overlowe.

For men seyn, `In muchel suffrynge shul manye thynges falle unto thee whiche thou shalt nat mowe suffre.'"

"Certes," quod Prudence, "I graunte yow that over-muchel suffraunce is nat good.

But yet ne folweth it nat therof that every persone to whom men doon vileynye take of it vengeance,

for that aperteneth and longeth al oonly to the juges, for they shul venge the vileynyes and injuries.

1470 And therfore tho two auctoritees that ye han seyd above been oonly understonden in the juges,

for whan they suffren over-muchel the wronges and the vileynyes to be doon withouten punysshynge,

they sompne nat a man al oonly for to do newe wronges, but they comanden it.

Also a wys man seith that `the juge that correcteth nat the synnere comandeth and biddeth hym do synne.'

And the juges and sovereyns myghten in hir land so muchel suffre of the shrewes and mysdoeres

that they sholden, by swich suffrance, by proces of tyme wexen of swich power and myght

that they sholden putte out the juges and the sovereyns from hir places,

and atte laste maken hem lesen hire lordshipes.

"But lat us now putte that ye have leve to venge yow.

I seye ye been nat of myght and power as now to venge yow,

for if ye wole maken comparisoun unto the myght of youre adversaries, ye shul fynde in manye thynges that

I have shewed yow er this that hire condicion is bettre than youres.

1480 And therfore seye I that it is good as now that ye suffre and be pacient.

"Forthermoore, ye knowen wel that after the comune sawe, `it is a woodnesse a man to stryve

with a strenger or a moore myghty man than he is hymself,

and for to stryve with a man of evene strengthe -- that is to seyn,

with as strong a man as he is -- it is peril,

and for to stryve with a weyker man, it is folie.'

And therfore sholde a man flee stryvynge as muchel as he myghte.

For Salomon seith, `It is a greet worshipe to a man to kepen hym fro noyse and stryf.'

And if it so bifalle or happe that a man of gretter myght and strengthe

than thou art do thee grevaunce,

studie and bisye thee rather to stille the same grevaunce than for to venge thee.

For Senec seith that `he putteth hym in greet peril

that stryveth with a gretter man than he is hymself.'

And Catoun seith, `If a man of hyer estaat or degree, or moore myghty than thou,

do thee anoy or grevaunce, suffre hym,

1490 for he that oones hath greved thee, may another tyme releeve thee and helpe.'

Yet sette I caas ye have bothe myght and licence for to venge yow,

I seye that ther be ful manye thynges that shul restreyne yow of vengeance-takynge

and make yow for to enclyne to suffre, and for to han pacience

in the wronges that han been doon to yow.

First and foreward, if ye wole considere the defautes that been in youre owene persone,

for whiche defautes God hath suffred yow have this tribulacioun, as I have seyd yow heer-biforn.

For the poete seith that `we oghte paciently taken the tribulacions

that comen to us, whan we thynken and consideren that we han disserved to have hem.'

And Seint Gregorie seith that `whan a man considereth wel the nombre of his defautes and of his synnes,

the peynes and the tribulaciouns that he suffreth semen the lesse unto hym;

and in as muche as hym thynketh his synnes moore hevy and grevous,

1500 in so muche semeth his peyne the lighter and the esier unto hym.'

Also ye owen to enclyne and bowe youre herte

to take the pacience of oure Lord Jhesu Crist, as seith Seint Peter in his Epistles.

`Jhesu Crist,' he seith, `hath suffred for us and yeven ensample to every man to folwe and sewe hym,

for he dide nevere synne, ne nevere cam ther a vileyns word out of his mouth.

Whan men cursed hym, he cursed hem noght, and whan men betten hym, he manaced hem noght.'

Also the grete pacience which the seintes that been in Paradys han had in tribulaciouns

that they han ysuffred, withouten hir desert or gilt,

oghte muchel stiren yow to pacience.

Forthermoore ye sholde enforce yow to have pacience,

considerynge that the tribulaciouns of this world but litel while endure and soone passed been and goon,

and the joye that a man seketh to have by pacience in tribulaciouns is perdurable,

after that the Apostle seith in his epistle.

1510 `The joye of God,' he seith, `is perdurable' -- that is to seyn, everelastynge.

Also troweth and bileveth stedefastly that he nys nat wel ynorissed, ne wel ytaught,

that kan nat have pacience or wol nat receyve pacience.

For Salomon seith that `the doctrine and the wit of a man is knowen by pacience.'

And in another place he seith that `he that is pacient governeth hym by greet prudence.'

And the same Salomon seith, `The angry and wrathful man maketh noyses,

and the pacient man atempreth hem and stilleth.'

He seith also, `It is moore worth to be pacient than for to be right strong;

and he that may have the lordshipe of his owene herte is moore to preyse than he that

by his force or strengthe taketh grete citees.'

And therfore seith Seint Jame in his Epistle that `pacience is a greet vertu of perfeccioun.'"

"Certes," quod Melibee, "I graunte yow, dame Prudence, that pacience is a greet vertu of perfeccioun;

but every man may nat have the perfeccioun that ye seken;

1520 ne I nam nat of the nombre of right parfite men,

for myn herte may nevere been in pees unto the tyme it be venged.

And al be it so that it was greet peril to myne enemys

to do me a vileynye in takynge vengeance upon me,

yet tooken they noon heede of the peril, but fulfilleden hir wikked wyl and hir corage.

And therfore me thynketh men oghten nat repreve me,

though I putte me in a litel peril for to venge me,

and though I do a greet excesse; that is to seyn, that I venge oon outrage by another."

"A," quod dame Prudence, "ye seyn youre wyl and as yow liketh,

but in no caas of the world a man sholde nat doon outrage ne excesse for to vengen hym.

For Cassidore seith that `as yvele dooth he that vengeth hym by outrage as he that dooth the outrage.'

And therfore ye shul venge yow after the ordre of right; that is to seyn, by the lawe

and noght by excesse ne by outrage.

1530 And also, if ye wol venge yow of the outrage of youre adversaries

1530A in oother manere than right comandeth, ye synnen.

And therfore seith Senec that `a man shal nevere vengen shrewednesse by shrewednesse.'

And if ye seye that right axeth a man to defenden violence by violence and fightyng by fightyng,

certes ye seye sooth, whan the defense is doon anon withouten intervalle or withouten tariyng or delay,

for to deffenden hym and nat for to vengen hym.

And it bihoveth that a man putte swich attemperance in his deffense

that men have no cause ne matiere to repreven hym that deffendeth hym of excesse and outrage,

for ellis were it agayn resoun.

Pardee, ye knowen wel that ye maken no deffense

as now for to deffende yow, but for to venge yow;

and so seweth it that ye han no wyl to do youre dede attemprely.

And therfore me thynketh that pacience is good. For Salomon seith that

`he that is nat pacient shal have greet harm.'"

1540 "Certes," quod Melibee, "I graunte yow that whan a man is inpacient and wrooth of that

1540A that toucheth hym noght and that aperteneth nat unto hym, though it harme hym, it is no wonder.

For the lawe seith that `he is coupable that entremetteth hym

or medleth with swych thyng as aperteneth nat unto hym.'

And Salomon seith that `he that entremetteth hym of the noyse or strif of another man

is lyk to hym that taketh an hound by the eris.'

For right as he that taketh a straunge hound by the eris is outherwhile biten with the hound,

right in the same wise is it resoun that he have harm that by his inpacience medleth hym

of the noyse of another man, wheras it aperteneth nat unto hym.

But ye knowen wel that this dede -- that is to seyn,

my grief and my disese -- toucheth me right ny.

And therfore, though I be wrooth and inpacient, it is no merveille.

And, savynge youre grace, I kan nat seen that it myghte greetly harme me though I tooke vengeaunce.

For I am richer and moore myghty than myne enemys been;

and wel knowen ye that by moneye and by havynge grete possessions

been alle the thynges of this world governed.

1550 And Salomon seith that `alle thynges obeyen to moneye.'"

Whan Prudence hadde herd hir housbonde avanten hym of his richesse

and of his moneye, dispreisynge the power of his adversaries,

she spak and seyde in this wise:

"Certes, deere sire, I graunte yow that ye been riche and myghty

and that the richesses been goode to hem that han wel ygeten hem and wel konne usen hem.

For right as the body of a man may nat lyven withoute the soule,

namoore may it lyve withouten temporeel goodes.

And by richesses may a man gete hym grete freendes.

And therfore seith Pamphilles: `If a net-herdes doghter,' seith he, `be riche,

she may chesen of a thousand men which she wol take to hir housbonde,

for, of a thousand men, oon wol nat forsaken hire ne refusen hire.'

And this Pamphilles seith also, `If thow be right happy -- that is to seyn,

if thou be right riche -- thou shalt fynde a greet nombre of felawes and freendes.

And if thy fortune change that thou wexe povre, farewel freendshipe and felaweshipe,

1560 for thou shalt be alloone withouten any compaignye, but if it be the compaignye of povre folk.'

And yet seith this Pamphilles moreover that `they that been thralle and bonde of lynage

shullen been maad worthy and noble by the richesses.'

And right so as by richesses ther comen manye goodes,

right so by poverte come ther manye harmes and yveles,

for greet poverte constreyneth a man to do manye yveles.

And therfore clepeth Cassidore poverte the mooder of ruyne;

that is to seyn, the mooder of overthrowynge or fallynge doun.

And therfore seith Piers Alfonce, `Oon of the gretteste adversitees of this world is

whan a free man by kynde or of burthe is constreyned by poverte

to eten the almesse of his enemy,'

and the same seith Innocent in oon of his bookes. He seith that

`sorweful and myshappy is the condicioun of a povre beggere;

for if he axe nat his mete, he dyeth for hunger;

1570 and if he axe, he dyeth for shame; and algates necessitee constreyneth hym to axe.'

And seith Salomon that `bet it is to dye than for to have swich poverte.'

And as the same Salomon seith, `Bettre it is to dye of bitter deeth

than for to lyven in swich wise.'

By thise resons that I have seid unto yow and by manye othere resons that I koude seye,

I graunte yow that richesses been goode to hem that geten hem wel

and to hem that wel usen tho richesses.

And therfore wol I shewe yow hou ye shul have yow, and how ye shul bere yow

in gaderynge of richesses, and in what manere ye shul usen hem.

"First, ye shul geten hem withouten greet desir, by good leyser, sokyngly and nat over-hastily.

For a man that is to desirynge to gete richesses abaundoneth hym

first to thefte, and to alle othere yveles;

and therfore seith Salomon, `He that hasteth hym to bisily to wexe riche shal be noon innocent.'

He seith also that `the richesse that hastily cometh to a man soone

and lightly gooth and passeth fro a man,

1580 but that richesse that cometh litel and litel wexeth alwey and multiplieth.'

And, sire, ye shul geten richesses by youre wit and by youre travaille unto youre profit,

and that withouten wrong or harm doynge to any oother persone.

For the lawe seith that `ther maketh no man himselven riche, if he do harm to another wight.'

This is to seyn, that nature deffendeth and forbedeth by right that

no man make hymself riche unto the harm of another persone.

And Tullius seith that `no sorwe, ne no drede of deeth, ne no thyng

that may falle unto a man, is so muchel agayns

nature as a man to encressen his owene profit to the harm of another man.

And though the grete men and the myghty men geten richesses moore lightly than thou,

yet shaltou nat been ydel ne slow to do thy profit, for thou shalt in alle wise flee ydelnesse.'

For Salomon seith that `ydelnesse techeth a man to do manye yveles.'

1590 And the same Salomon seith that `he that travailleth and bisieth hym to tilien his land shal eten breed,

but he that is ydel and casteth hym to no bisynesse

ne occupacioun shal falle into poverte and dye for hunger.'

And he that is ydel and slow kan nevere fynde covenable tyme for to doon his profit.

For ther is a versifiour seith that `the ydel man excuseth hym in wynter by cause

of the grete coold, and in somer by enchesoun of the greete heete.'

For thise causes seith Caton, `Waketh and enclyneth nat yow over-muchel for to slepe,

for over-muchel reste norisseth and causeth manye vices.'

And therfore seith Seint Jerome, `Dooth somme goode dedes that the devel,

which is oure enemy, ne fynde yow nat unocupied.'

For the devel ne taketh nat lightly unto his werkynge swiche as he fyndeth occupied in goode werkes.

"Thanne thus in getynge richesses ye mosten flee ydelnesse.

And afterward, ye shul use the richesses which ye have geten by youre wit and by youre travaille

in swich a manere that men holde yow nat to scars, ne to sparynge, ne to fool-large

-- that is to seyen, over-large a spendere.

1600 For right as men blamen an avaricious man by cause of his scarsetee and chyncherie,

in the same wise is he to blame that spendeth over-largely.

And therfore seith Caton: `Use,' he seith, `thy richesses that thou hast geten

in swich a manere that men have no matiere ne cause to calle thee neither wrecche ne chynche,

for it is a greet shame to a man to have a povere herte and a riche purs.'

He seith also, `The goodes that thou hast ygeten, use hem by mesure;'

that is to seyn, spende hem mesurably,

for they that folily wasten and despenden the goodes that they han,

whan they han namoore propre of hir owene, they shapen hem to take the goodes of another man.

I seye thanne that ye shul fleen avarice,

usynge youre richesses in swich manere that men seye nat that youre richesses been yburyed

1610 but that ye have hem in youre myght and in youre weeldynge.

For a wys man repreveth the avaricious man, and seith thus in two vers:

`Wherto and why burieth a man his goodes by his grete avarice,

and knoweth wel that nedes moste he dye?

For deeth is the ende of every man as in this present lyf.'

And for what cause or enchesoun joyneth he hym or knytteth he hym so faste unto his goodes

that alle hise wittes mowen nat disseveren hym or departen hym from his goodes,

and knoweth wel, or oghte knowe, that whan he is deed

he shal no thyng bere with hym out of this world?

And therfore seith Seint Austyn that `the avaricious man is likned unto helle,

that the moore it swelweth the moore desir it hath to swelwe and devoure.'

And as wel as ye wolde eschewe to be called an avaricious man or chynche,

1620 as wel sholde ye kepe yow and governe yow in swich a wise that men calle yow nat fool-large.

Therfore seith Tullius: `The goodes,' he seith, `of thyn hous ne sholde nat been hyd ne kept so cloos,

but that they myghte been opened by pitee and debonairetee'

(that is to seyn, to yeven part to hem that han greet nede),

`ne thy goodes shullen nat been so opene to been every mannes goodes.'

Afterward, in getynge of youre richesses and in usynge hem ye shul alwey have thre thynges in youre herte

(that is to seyn, oure Lord God, conscience, and good name).

First, ye shul have God in youre herte,

and for no richesse ye shullen do no thyng which may in any manere displese God,

that is youre creatour and makere.

For after the word of Salomon, `It is bettre to have a litel good with the love of God

than to have muchel good and tresour and lese the love of his Lord God.'

1630 And the prophete seith that `bettre it is to been a good man and have litel good and tresour

than to been holden a shrewe and have grete richesses.'

And yet seye I ferthermoore, that ye sholde alwey doon youre bisynesse to gete yow richesses,

so that ye gete hem with good conscience.

And th' Apostle seith that `ther nys thyng in this world of which

we sholden have so greet joye as whan oure conscience bereth us good witnesse.'

And the wise man seith, `The substance of a man is ful good,

whan synne is nat in mannes conscience.'

Afterward, in getynge of youre richesses and in usynge of hem,

yow moste have greet bisynesse and greet diligence that youre goode name be alwey kept and conserved.

For Salomon seith that `bettre it is and moore it availleth a man to have a good name

than for to have grete richesses.'

And therfore he seith in another place, `Do greet diligence,' seith Salomon,

`in kepyng of thy freend and of thy goode name;

1640 for it shal lenger abide with thee than any tresour, be it never so precious.'

And certes he sholde nat be called a gentil man that after God and good conscience, alle thynges left,

ne dooth his diligence and bisynesse to kepen his goode name.

And Cassidore seith that `it is signe of a gentil herte

whan a man loveth and desireth to han a good name.'

And therfore seith Seint Austyn that `ther been two thynges that arn necessarie and nedefulle,

and that is good conscience and good loos;

that is to seyn, good conscience to thyn owene persone inward and good loos for thy neighebor outward.'

And he that trusteth hym so muchel in his goode conscience

that he displeseth, and setteth at noght his goode name or loos,

and rekketh noght though he kepe nat his goode name, nys but a crueel cherl.

"Sire, now have I shewed yow how ye shul do in getynge richesses, and how ye shullen usen hem,

and I se wel that for the trust that ye han in youre richesses

ye wole moeve werre and bataille.

1650 I conseille yow that ye bigynne no werre in trust of youre richesses,

1650A for they ne suffisen noght werres to mayntene.

And therfore seith a philosophre, `That man that desireth and wole algates han werre, shal nevere have suffisaunce,

for the richer that he is, the gretter despenses moste he make, if he wole have worshipe and victorie.'

And Salomon seith that `the gretter richesses that a man hath, the mo despendours he hath.'

And, deere sire, al be it so that for youre richesses ye mowe have muchel folk,

yet bihoveth it nat, ne it is nat good, to bigynne werre whereas ye mowe

in oother manere have pees unto youre worshipe and profit.

For the victorie of batailles that been in this world lyth nat in greet nombre or multitude

of the peple, ne in the vertu of man,

but it lith in the wyl and in the hand of oure Lord God Almyghty.

And therfore Judas Machabeus, which was Goddes knyght,

whan he sholde fighte agayn his adversarie that hadde a gretter nombre

and a gretter multitude of folk and strenger than was this peple of Machabee,

1660 yet he reconforted his litel compaignye, and seyde right in this wise:

`Als lightly,' quod he, `may oure Lord God Almyghty yeve victorie to a fewe folk as to many folk,

for the victorie of a bataile comth nat by the grete nombre of peple,

but it cometh from oure Lord God of hevene.'

And, deere sire, for as muchel as ther is no man certein if he be worthy that

God yeve hym victorie . . . or naught, after that Salomon seith,

therfore every man sholde greetly drede werres to bigynne.

And by cause that in batailles fallen manye perils,

and happeth outher while that as soone is the grete man slayn as the litel man;

and as it is writen in the seconde Book of Kynges,

`The dedes of batailles been aventurouse and nothyng certeyne,

for as lightly is oon hurt with a spere as another';

1670 and for ther is gret peril in werre, therfore sholde a man flee and eschue werre,

1670A in as muchel as a man may goodly.

For Salomon seith, `He that loveth peril shal falle in peril.'"

After that Dame Prudence hadde spoken in this manere, Melibee answerde and seyde,

"I see wel, dame Prudence, that by youre faire wordes and by youre resouns

that ye han shewed me, that the werre liketh yow no thyng;

but I have nat yet herd youre conseil, how I shal do in this nede."

"Certes," quod she, "I conseille yow that ye accorde with youre adversaries and that ye have pees with hem.

For Seint Jame seith in his Epistles that `by concord and pees the smale richesses wexen grete,

and by debaat and discord the grete richesses fallen doun.'

And ye knowen wel that oon of the gretteste and moost sovereyn thyng

that is in this world is unytee and pees.

And therfore seyde oure Lord Jhesu Crist to his apostles in this wise:

1680 `Wel happy and blessed been they that loven and purchacen pees, for they been called children of God.'"

"A," quod Melibee, "now se I wel that ye loven nat myn honour ne my worshipe.

Ye knowen wel that myne adversaries han bigonnen this debaat and bryge by hire outrage,

and ye se wel that they ne requeren ne preyen me nat of pees,

ne they asken nat to be reconsiled.

Wol ye thanne that I go and meke me, and obeye me to hem, and crie hem mercy?

For sothe, that were nat my worshipe.

For right as men seyn that `over-greet hoomlynesse engendreth dispreisynge,' so fareth it by to greet humylitee or mekenesse."

Thanne bigan dame Prudence to maken semblant of wratthe and seyde:

"Certes, sire, sauf youre grace, I love youre honour and youre profit

as I do myn owene, and evere have doon;

ne ye, ne noon oother, seyn nevere the contrarie.

1690 And yit if I hadde seyd that ye sholde han purchaced the pees

1690A and the reconsiliacioun, I ne hadde nat muchel mystaken me ne seyd amys.

For the wise man seith, `The dissensioun bigynneth by another man, and the reconsilyng bygynneth by thyself.'

And the prophete seith, `Flee shrewednesse and do goodnesse;

seke pees and folwe it, as muchel as in thee is.'

Yet seye I nat that ye shul rather pursue to youre adversaries for pees than they shuln to yow.

For I knowe wel that ye been so hard-herted that ye wol do no thyng for me.

And Salomon seith, `He that hath over-hard an herte, atte laste he shal myshappe and mystyde.'"

Whanne Melibee hadde herd dame Prudence maken semblant of wratthe, he seyde in this wise:

"Dame, I prey yow that ye be nat displesed of thynges that I seye,

for ye knowe wel that I am angry and wrooth, and that is no wonder;

1700 and they that been wrothe witen nat wel what they don ne what they seyn.

Therfore the prophete seith that `troubled eyen han no cleer sighte.'

But seyeth and conseileth me as yow liketh, for I am redy to do right as ye wol desire;

and if ye repreve me of my folye,

I am the moore holden to love yow and to preyse yow.

For Salomon seith that `he that repreveth hym that dooth folye,

he shal fynde gretter grace than he that deceyveth hym by sweete wordes.'"

Thanne seide dame Prudence, "I make no semblant of wratthe ne anger, but for youre grete profit.

For Salomon seith, `He is moore worth that repreveth or chideth a fool for his folye,

shewynge hym semblant of wratthe,

than he that supporteth hym and preyseth hym in his mysdoynge and laugheth at his folye.'

And this same Salomon seith afterward that

`by the sorweful visage of a man'

(that is to seyn by the sory and hevy contenaunce of a man)

1710 `the fool correcteth and amendeth hymself.'"

Thanne seyde Melibee, "I shal nat konne answere to

so manye faire resouns as ye putten to me and shewen.

Seyeth shortly youre wyl and youre conseil, and I am al redy to fulfille and parfourne it."

Thanne dame Prudence discovered al hir wyl to hym and seyde,

"I conseille yow," quod she, "aboven alle thynges, that ye make pees bitwene God and yow,

and beth reconsiled unto hym and to his grace.

For, as I have seyd yow heer biforn, God hath suffred yow

to have this tribulacioun and disese for youre synnes.

And if ye do as I sey yow, God wol sende youre adversaries unto yow

and maken hem fallen at youre feet, redy to do youre wyl and youre comandementz.

For Salomon seith, `Whan the condicioun of man is plesaunt and likynge to God,

1720 he chaungeth the hertes of the mannes adversaries and constreyneth hem to biseken hym of pees and of grace.'

And I prey yow lat me speke with youre adversaries in privee place,

for they shul nat knowe that it be of youre wyl or of youre assent.

And thanne, whan I knowe hir wil and hire entente, I may conseille yow the moore seurely."

"Dame," quod Melibee, "dooth youre wil and youre likynge;

for I putte me hoolly in youre disposicioun and ordinaunce."

Thanne dame Prudence, whan she saugh the goode wyl of hir housbonde, delibered and took avys in hirself,

thinkinge how she myghte brynge this nede unto a good conclusioun and to a good ende.

And whan she saugh hir tyme, she sente for thise adversaries to come unto hire into a pryvee place

and shewed wisely unto hem the grete goodes that comen of pees

1730 and the grete harmes and perils that been in werre,

and seyde to hem in a goodly manere hou that hem oughten have greet repentaunce

of the injurie and wrong that they hadden doon to Melibee hir lord,

and unto hire, and to hire doghter.

And whan they herden the goodliche wordes of dame Prudence,

they weren so supprised and ravysshed and hadden so greet joye of hire that wonder was to telle.

"A, lady," quod they, "ye han shewed unto us the blessynge of swetnesse,

after the sawe of David the prophete,

for the reconsilynge which we been nat worthy to have in no manere,

but we oghte requeren it with greet contricioun and humylitee,

ye of youre grete goodnesse have presented unto us.

Now se we wel that the science and the konnynge of Salomon is ful trewe.

1740 For he seith that `sweete wordes multiplien and encreescen freendes and maken shrewes to be debonaire and meeke.'

"Certes," quod they, "we putten oure dede and al oure matere and cause al hoolly in youre goode wyl

and been redy to obeye to the speche and comandement of my lord Melibee.

And therfore, deere and benygne lady, we preien yow and biseke yow as mekely as we konne and mowen

that it lyke unto youre grete goodnesse to fulfillen in dede youre goodliche wordes,

for we consideren and knowelichen that we han offended and greved my lord Melibee out of mesure,

so ferforth that we be nat of power to maken his amendes.

And therfore we oblige and bynden us and oure freendes for to doon al his wyl and his comandementz.

But peraventure he hath swich hevynesse and swich wratthe to us-ward by cause of oure offense

that he wole enjoyne us swich a peyne as we mowe nat bere ne susteene.

1750 And therfore, noble lady, we biseke to youre wommanly pitee

to taken swich avysement in this nede that

we ne oure freendes be nat desherited ne destroyed thurgh oure folye."

"Certes," quod Prudence, "it is an hard thyng and right perilous

that a man putte hym al outrely in the arbitracioun and juggement,

and in the myght and power of his enemys.

For Salomon seith, `Leeveth me, and yeveth credence to that I shal seyn: I seye,' quod he,

`ye peple, folk and governours of hooly chirche,

to thy sone, to thy wyf, to thy freend, ne to thy broother

ne yeve thou nevere myght ne maistrie of thy body whil thou lyvest.'

Now sithen he deffendeth that man sholde nat yeven to his broother

ne to his freend the myght of his body,

by a strenger resoun he deffendeth and forbedeth a man to yeven hymself to his enemy.

And nathelees I conseille you that ye mystruste nat my lord,

1760 for I woot wel and knowe verraily that he is debonaire and meeke, large, curteys,

and nothyng desirous ne coveitous of good ne richesse.

For ther nys nothyng in this world that he desireth, save oonly worshipe and honour.

Forthermoore I knowe wel and am right seur that he shal nothyng doon in this nede withouten my conseil,

and I shal so werken in this cause that by the grace of oure Lord God

ye shul been reconsiled unto us."

Thanne seyden they with o voys, "Worshipful lady, we putten us

and oure goodes al fully in youre wil and disposicioun,

and been redy to comen, what day that it like unto youre noblesse to lymyte us or assigne us,

for to maken oure obligacioun and boond as strong as it liketh unto youre goodnesse,

that we mowe fulfille the wille of yow and of my lord Melibee."

Whan dame Prudence hadde herd the answeres of thise men, she bad hem goon agayn prively;

1770 and she retourned to hir lord Melibee, and tolde hym how she foond his adversaries ful repentant,

knowelechynge ful lowely hir synnes and trespas, and how they were redy to suffren all peyne,

requirynge and preiynge hym of mercy and pitee.

Thanne seyde Melibee: "He is wel worthy to have pardoun

and foryifnesse of his synne, that excuseth nat his synne

but knowelecheth it and repenteth hym, axinge indulgence.

For Senec seith, `Ther is the remissioun and foryifnesse, where as the confessioun is,'

for confessioun is neighebor to innocence.

And he seith in another place that `he that hath shame of his synne and knowlecheth

[it is worthy remissioun].' And therfore I assente and conferme me to have pees;

but it is good that we do it nat withouten the assent and wyl of oure freendes."

Thanne was Prudence right glad and joyeful and seyde:

1780 "Certes, sire," quod she, "ye han wel and goodly answered,

for right as by the conseil, assent, and help of youre freendes

ye han been stired to venge yow and maken werre,

right so withouten hire conseil shul ye nat accorden yow ne have pees with youre adversaries.

For the lawe seith, `Ther nys no thyng so good by wey of kynde as a thyng

to be unbounde by hym that it was ybounde.'"

And thanne dame Prudence withouten delay or tariynge sente anon hire messages for hire kyn

and for hire olde freendes which that were trewe and wyse,

and tolde hem by ordre in the presence of Melibee al this mateere

as it is aboven expressed and declared,

and preyden hem that they wolde yeven hire avys and conseil what best were to doon in this nede.

And whan Melibees freendes hadde taken hire avys and deliberacioun of the forseide mateere,

and hadden examyned it by greet bisynesse and greet diligence,

they yave ful conseil for to have pees and reste,

1790 and that Melibee sholde receyve with good herte his adversaries to foryifnesse and mercy.

And whan dame Prudence hadde herd the assent of hir lord Melibee, and the conseil of his freendes

accorde with hire wille and hire entencioun,

she was wonderly glad in hire herte and seyde:

"Ther is an old proverbe," quod she, "seith that `the goodnesse that thou mayst do this day, do it,

and abide nat ne delaye it nat til tomorwe.'

And therfore I conseille that ye sende youre messages, swiche as been discrete and wise,

unto youre adversaries, tellynge hem on youre bihalve

that if they wole trete of pees and of accord,

that they shape hem withouten delay or tariyng to comen unto us."

1800 Which thyng parfourned was in dede.

And whanne thise trespassours and repentynge folk of hire folies

-- that is to seyn, the adversaries of Melibee --

hadden herd what thise messagers seyden unto hem,

they weren right glad and joyeful, and answereden ful mekely and benignely,

yeldynge graces and thankynges to hir lord Melibee and to al his compaignye,

and shopen hem withouten delay to go with the messagers and obeye to the comandement of hir lord Melibee.

And right anon they tooken hire wey to the court of Melibee,

and tooken with hem somme of hire trewe freendes

to maken feith for hem and for to been hire borwes.

And whan they were comen to the presence of Melibee, he seyde hem thise wordes:

"It standeth thus," quod Melibee, "and sooth it is, that ye,

1810 causelees and withouten skile and resoun,

han doon grete injuries and wronges to me and to my wyf Prudence and to my doghter also.

For ye han entred into myn hous by violence,

and have doon swich outrage that alle men knowen wel that ye have disserved the deeth.

And therfore wol I knowe and wite of yow

wheither ye wol putte the punyssement and the chastisynge and the vengeance of this outrage in the wyl

of me and of my wyf Prudence, or ye wol nat?"

Thanne the wiseste of hem thre answerde for hem alle and seyde,

"Sire," quod he, "we knowen wel that we been unworthy to comen unto the court

of so greet a lord and so worthy as ye been.

For we han so greetly mystaken us, and han offended

and agilt in swich a wise agayn youre heigh lordshipe

that trewely we han disserved the deeth.

1820 But yet, for the grete goodnesse and debonairetee that al the world witnesseth of youre persone,

we submytten us to the excellence and benignitee of youre gracious lordshipe,

and been redy to obeie to alle youre comandementz,

bisekynge yow that of youre merciable pitee ye wol considere oure grete repentaunce and lowe submyssioun

and graunten us foryevenesse of oure outrageous trespas and offense.

For wel we knowe that youre liberal grace and mercy

strecchen hem ferther into goodnesse than doon oure outrageouse giltes and trespas into wikkednesse,

al be it that cursedly and dampnablely we han agilt agayn youre heigh lordshipe."

Thanne Melibee took hem up fro the ground ful benignely,

and receyved hire obligaciouns and hir boondes by hire othes upon hire plegges and borwes,

and assigned hem a certeyn day to retourne unto his court

1830 for to accepte and receyve the sentence and juggement that Melibee wolde comande

1830A to be doon on hem by the causes aforeseyd.

Whiche thynges ordeyned, every man retourned to his hous.

And whan that dame Prudence saugh hir tyme, she freyned and axed hir lord Melibee

what vengeance he thoughte to taken of his adversaries.

To which Melibee answerde and seyde, "Certes," quod he, "I thynke and purpose me fully

to desherite hem of al that evere they han and for to putte hem in exil for evere."

"Certes," quod dame Prudence, "this were a crueel sentence and muchel agayn resoun.

For ye been riche ynough and han no nede of oother mennes good,

and ye myghte lightly in this wise gete yow a coveitous name,

which is a vicious thyng, and oghte been eschued of every good man.

1840 For after the sawe of the word of the Apostle, `Coveitise is roote of alle harmes.'

And therfore it were bettre for yow to lese so muchel good of youre owene

than for to taken of hir good in this manere,

for bettre it is to lesen good with worshipe than it is to wynne good with vileynye and shame.

And everi man oghte to doon his diligence and his bisynesse to geten hym a good name.

And yet shal he nat oonly bisie hym in kepynge of his good name,

but he shal also enforcen hym alwey to do somthyng by which he may renovelle his good name.

For it is writen that `the olde good loos or good name of a man is soone goon

and passed, whan it is nat newed ne renovelled.'

And as touchynge that ye seyn ye wole exile youre adversaries,

that thynketh me muchel agayn resoun and out of mesure,

considered the power that they han yeve yow upon hemself.

1850 And it is writen that `he is worthy to lesen his privilege that mysuseth

1850A the myght and the power that is yeven hym.'

And I sette cas ye myghte enjoyne hem that peyne by right and by lawe,

which I trowe ye mowe nat do;

I seye ye mighte nat putten it to execucioun peraventure,

and thanne were it likly to retourne to the werre as it was biforn.

And therfore, if ye wole that men do yow obeisance, ye moste deemen moore curteisly;

this is to seyn, ye moste yeven moore esy sentences and juggementz.

For it is writen that `he that moost curteisly comandeth, to hym men moost obeyen.'

And therfore I prey yow that in this necessitee and in this nede

ye caste yow to overcome youre herte.

For Senec seith that `he that overcometh his herte overcometh twies.'

1860 And Tullius seith, `Ther is no thyng so comendable in a greet lord

as whan he is debonaire and meeke, and appeseth him lightly.'

And I prey yow that ye wole forbere now to do vengeance,

in swich a manere that youre goode name may be kept and conserved,

and that men mowe have cause and mateere to preyse yow of pitee and of mercy,

and that ye have no cause to repente yow of thyng that ye doon.

For Senec seith, `He overcometh in an yvel manere that repenteth hym of his victorie.'

Wherfore I pray yow, lat mercy been in youre herte,

to th' effect and entente that God Almighty have mercy on yow in his laste juggement.

For Seint Jame seith in his Epistle: `Juggement withouten mercy shal be doon

to hym that hath no mercy of another wight.'"

1870 Whanne Melibee hadde herd the grete skiles and resouns of dame Prudence, and hire wise informaciouns and techynges,

his herte gan enclyne to the wil of his wif, considerynge hir trewe entente,

and conformed hym anon and assented fully to werken after hir conseil,

and thonked God, of whom procedeth al vertu and alle goodnesse,

that hym sente a wyf of so greet discrecioun.

And whan the day cam that his adversaries sholde appieren in his presence,

he spak unto hem ful goodly, and seyde in this wyse:

"Al be it so that of youre pride and heigh presumpcioun and folie, and of youre necligence and unkonnynge,

ye have mysborn yow and trespassed unto me,

yet for as muche as I see and biholde youre grete humylitee

and that ye been sory and repentant of youre giltes,

1880 it constreyneth me to doon yow grace and mercy.

Wherfore I receyve yow to my grace

and foryeve yow outrely alle the offenses, injuries, and wronges that ye have doon agayn me and myne,

to this effect and to this ende, that God of his endelees mercy

wole at the tyme of oure diynge foryeven us oure giltes

that we han trespassed to hym in this wrecched world.

For doutelees, if we be sory and repentant of the synnes and giltes which we han trespassed

in the sighte of oure Lord God,

he is so free and so merciable

that he wole foryeven us oure giltes

and bryngen us to the blisse that nevere hath ende." Amen.

THE MONK'S PROLOGUE

Whan ended was my tale of Melibee,

1890 And of Prudence and hire benignytee,

Oure Hooste seyde, "As I am feithful man,

And by that precious corpus Madrian,

I hadde levere than a barel ale

That Goodelief, my wyf, hadde herd this tale!

For she nys no thyng of swich pacience

As was this Melibeus wyf Prudence.

By Goddes bones, whan I bete my knaves,

She bryngeth me forth the grete clobbed staves,

And crieth, `Slee the dogges everichoon,

1900 And brek hem, bothe bak and every boon!'

"And if that any neighebor of myne

Wol nat in chirche to my wyf enclyne,

Or be so hardy to hire to trespace,

Whan she comth hoom she rampeth in my face,

And crieth, `False coward, wrek thy wyf!

By corpus bones, I wol have thy knyf,

And thou shalt have my distaf and go spynne!'

Fro day to nyght right thus she wol bigynne.

`Allas,' she seith, `that evere I was shape

1910 To wedden a milksop, or a coward ape,

That wol been overlad with every wight!

Thou darst nat stonden by thy wyves right!'

"This is my lif, but if that I wol fighte;

And out at dore anon I moot me dighte,

Or elles I am but lost, but if that I

Be lik a wilde leoun, fool-hardy.

I woot wel she wol do me slee som day

Som neighebor, and thanne go my way;

For I am perilous with knyf in honde,

1920 Al be it that I dar nat hire withstonde,

For she is byg in armes, by my feith:

That shal he fynde that hire mysdooth or seith --

But lat us passe awey fro this mateere.

"My lord, the Monk," quod he, "be myrie of cheere,

For ye shul telle a tale trewely.

Loo, Rouchestre stant heer faste by!

Ryde forth, myn owene lord, brek nat oure game.

But, by my trouthe, I knowe nat youre name.

Wher shal I calle yow my lord daun John,

1930 Or daun Thomas, or elles daun Albon?

Of what hous be ye, by youre fader kyn?

I vowe to God, thou hast a ful fair skyn;

It is a gentil pasture ther thow goost.

Thou art nat lyk a penant or a goost:

Upon my feith, thou art som officer,

Som worthy sexteyn, or som celerer,

For by my fader soule, as to my doom,

Thou art a maister whan thou art at hoom;

No povre cloysterer, ne no novys,

1940 But a governour, wily and wys,

And therwithal of brawnes and of bones

A wel farynge persone for the nones.

I pray to God, yeve hym confusioun

That first thee broghte unto religioun!

Thou woldest han been a tredefowel aright.

Haddestow as greet a leeve as thou hast myght

To parfourne al thy lust in engendrure,

Thou haddest bigeten ful many a creature.

Allas, why werestow so wyd a cope?

1950 God yeve me sorwe, but, and I were a pope,

Nat oonly thou, but every myghty man,

Though he were shorn ful hye upon his pan,

Sholde have a wyf; for al the world is lorn!

Religioun hath take up al the corn

Of tredyng, and we borel men been shrympes.

Of fieble trees ther comen wrecched ympes.

This maketh that oure heires been so sklendre

And feble that they may nat wel engendre.

This maketh that oure wyves wole assaye

1960 Religious folk, for ye mowe bettre paye

Of Venus paiementz than mowe we;

God woot, no lussheburghes payen ye!

But be nat wrooth, my lord, though that I pleye.

Ful ofte in game a sooth I have herd seye!"

This worthy Monk took al in pacience,

And seyde, "I wol doon al my diligence,

As fer as sowneth into honestee,

To telle yow a tale, or two, or three.

And if yow list to herkne hyderward,

1970 I wol yow seyn the lyf of Seint Edward;

Or ellis, first, tragedies wol I telle,

Of whiche I have an hundred in my celle.

Tragedie is to seyn a certeyn storie,

As olde bookes maken us memorie,

Of hym that stood in greet prosperitee,

And is yfallen out of heigh degree

Into myserie, and endeth wrecchedly.

And they ben versified communely

Of six feet, which men clepen exametron.

1980 In prose eek been endited many oon,

And eek in meetre in many a sondry wyse.

Lo, this declaryng oghte ynogh suffise.

"Now herkneth, if yow liketh for to heere.

But first I yow biseeke in this mateere,

Though I by ordre telle nat thise thynges,

Be it of popes, emperours, or kynges,

After hir ages, as men writen fynde,

But tellen hem som bifore and som bihynde,

As it now comth unto my remembraunce,

1990 Have me excused of myn ignoraunce."

THE MONK'S TALE

I wol biwaille in manere of tragedie

The harm of hem that stoode in heigh degree,

And fillen so that ther nas no remedie

To brynge hem out of hir adversitee.

For certein, whan that Fortune list to flee,

Ther may no man the cours of hire withholde.

Lat no man truste on blynd prosperitee;

Be war by thise ensamples trewe and olde.

At Lucifer, though he an angel were

2000 And nat a man, at hym wol I bigynne.

For though Fortune may noon angel dere,

From heigh degree yet fel he for his synne

Doun into helle, where he yet is inne.

O Lucifer, brightest of angels alle,

Now artow Sathanas, that mayst nat twynne

Out of miserie, in which that thou art falle.

Loo Adam, in the feeld of Damyssene

With Goddes owene fynger wroght was he,

And nat bigeten of mannes sperme unclene,

2010 And welte al paradys savynge o tree.

Hadde nevere worldly man so heigh degree

As Adam, til he for mysgovernaunce

Was dryven out of hys hye prosperitee

To labour, and to helle, and to meschaunce.

Loo Sampsoun, which that was annunciat

By th' angel longe er his nativitee,

And was to God Almyghty consecrat,

And stood in noblesse whil he myghte see.

Was nevere swich another as was hee,

2020 To speke of strengthe, and therwith hardynesse;

But to his wyves toolde he his secree,

Thurgh which he slow hymself for wrecchednesse.

Sampsoun, this noble almyghty champioun,

Withouten wepen save his handes tweye,

He slow and al torente the leoun,

Toward his weddyng walkynge by the weye.

His false wyf koude hym so plese and preye

Til she his conseil knew; and she, untrewe,

Unto his foos his conseil gan biwreye,

2030 And hym forsook, and took another newe.

Thre hundred foxes took Sampson for ire,

And alle hir tayles he togydre bond,

And sette the foxes tayles alle on fire,

For he on every tayl had knyt a brond;

And they brende alle the cornes in that lond,

And alle hire olyveres, and vynes eke.

A thousand men he slow eek with his hond,

And hadde no wepen but an asses cheke.

Whan they were slayn, so thursted hym that he

2040 Was wel ny lorn, for which he gan to preye

That God wolde on his peyne han some pitee

And sende hym drynke, or elles moste he deye;

And of this asses cheke, that was dreye,

Out of a wang-tooth sprang anon a welle,

Of which he drank ynogh, shortly to seye;

Thus heelp hym God, as Judicum can telle.

By verray force at Gazan on a nyght,

Maugree Philistiens of that citee,

The gates of the toun he hath up plyght,

2050 And on his bak ycaryed hem hath hee

Hye on an hill whereas men myghte hem see.

O noble, almyghty Sampsoun, lief and deere,

Had thou nat toold to wommen thy secree,

In al this world ne hadde been thy peere!

This Sampson nevere ciser drank ne wyn,

Ne on his heed cam rasour noon ne sheere,

By precept of the messager divyn,

For alle his strengthes in his heeres weere.

And fully twenty wynter, yeer by yeere,

2060 He hadde of Israel the governaunce.

But soone shal he wepe many a teere,

For wommen shal hym bryngen to meschaunce!

Unto his lemman Dalida he tolde

That in his heeris al his strengthe lay,

And falsly to his foomen she hym solde.

And slepynge in hir barm upon a day,

She made to clippe or shere his heres away,

And made his foomen al his craft espyen;

And whan that they hym foond in this array,

2070 They bounde hym faste and putten out his yen.

But er his heer were clipped or yshave,

Ther was no boond with which men myghte him bynde;

But now is he in prison in a cave,

Where-as they made hym at the queerne grynde.

O noble Sampsoun, strongest of mankynde,

O whilom juge, in glorie and in richesse!

Now maystow wepen with thyne eyen blynde,

Sith thou fro wele art falle in wrecchednesse.

The ende of this caytyf was as I shal seye.

2080 His foomen made a feeste upon a day,

And made hym as hire fool biforn hem pleye;

And this was in a temple of greet array.

But atte laste he made a foul affray,

For he two pilers shook and made hem falle,

And doun fil temple and al, and ther it lay --

And slow hymself, and eek his foomen alle.

This is to seyn, the prynces everichoon,

And eek thre thousand bodyes, were ther slayn

With fallynge of the grete temple of stoon.

2090 Of Sampson now wol I namoore sayn.

Beth war by this ensample oold and playn

That no men telle hir conseil til hir wyves

Of swich thyng as they wolde han secree fayn,

If that it touche hir lymes or hir lyves.

Of Hercules, the sovereyn conquerour,

Syngen his werkes laude and heigh renoun;

For in his tyme of strengthe he was the flour.

He slow and rafte the skyn of the leoun;

He of Centauros leyde the boost adoun;

2100 He Arpies slow, the crueel bryddes felle;

He golden apples rafte of the dragoun;

He drow out Cerberus, the hound of helle;

He slow the crueel tyrant Busirus

And made his hors to frete hym, flessh and boon;

He slow the firy serpent venymus;

Of Acheloys two hornes he brak oon;

And he slow Cacus in a cave of stoon;

He slow the geant Antheus the stronge;

He slow the grisly boor, and that anon;

2110 And bar the hevene on his nekke longe.

Was nevere wight, sith that this world bigan,

That slow so manye monstres as dide he.

Thurghout this wyde world his name ran,

What for his strengthe and for his heigh bountee,

And every reawme wente he for to see.

He was so stroong that no man myghte hym lette.

At bothe the worldes endes, seith Trophee,

In stide of boundes he a pileer sette.

A lemman hadde this noble champioun,

2120 That highte Dianira, fressh as May;

And as thise clerkes maken mencioun,

She hath hym sent a sherte, fressh and gay.

Allas, this sherte -- allas and weylaway! --

Envenymed was so subtilly withalle

That er that he had wered it half a day

It made his flessh al from his bones falle.

But nathelees somme clerkes hire excusen

By oon that highte Nessus, that it maked.

Be as be may, I wol hire noght accusen;

2130 But on his bak this sherte he wered al naked

Til that his flessh was for the venym blaked.

And whan he saugh noon oother remedye,

In hoote coles he hath hymselven raked,

For with no venym deigned hym to dye.

Thus starf this worthy, myghty Hercules.

Lo, who may truste on Fortune any throwe?

For hym that folweth al this world of prees

Er he be war is ofte yleyd ful lowe.

Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe!

2140 Beth war, for whan that Fortune list to glose,

Thanne wayteth she her man to overthrowe

By swich a wey as he wolde leest suppose.

The myghty trone, the precious tresor,

The glorious ceptre, and roial magestee

That hadde the kyng Nabugodonosor

With tonge unnethe may discryved bee.

He twyes wan Jerusalem the citee;

The vessel of the temple he with hym ladde.

At Babiloigne was his sovereyn see,

2150 In which his glorie and his delit he hadde.

The faireste children of the blood roial

Of Israel he leet do gelde anoon,

And maked ech of hem to been his thral.

Amonges othere Daniel was oon,

That was the wiseste child of everychon,

For he the dremes of the kyng expowned,

Whereas in Chaldeye clerk ne was ther noon

That wiste to what fyn his dremes sowned.

This proude kyng leet maken a statue of gold,

2160 Sixty cubites long and sevene in brede,

To which ymage bothe yong and oold

Comanded he to loute, and have in drede,

Or in a fourneys, ful of flambes rede,

He shal be brent that wolde noght obeye.

But nevere wolde assente to that dede

Daniel ne his yonge felawes tweye.

This kyng of kynges proud was and elaat;

He wende that God, that sit in magestee,

Ne myghte hym nat bireve of his estaat.

2170 But sodeynly he loste his dignytee,

And lyk a beest hym semed for to bee,

And eet hey as an oxe, and lay theroute

In reyn; with wilde beestes walked hee

Til certein tyme was ycome aboute.

And lik an egles fetheres wax his heres;

His nayles lyk a briddes clawes weere;

Til God relessed hym a certeyn yeres,

And yaf hym wit, and thanne with many a teere

He thanked God, and evere his lyf in feere

2180 Was he to doon amys or moore trespace;

And til that tyme he leyd was on his beere

He knew that God was ful of myght and grace.

His sone, which that highte Balthasar,

That heeld the regne after his fader day,

He by his fader koude noght be war,

For proud he was of herte and of array,

And eek an ydolastre was he ay.

His hye estaat assured hym in pryde;

But Fortune caste hym doun, and ther he lay,

2190 And sodeynly his regne gan divide.

A feeste he made unto his lordes alle

Upon a tyme and bad hem blithe bee;

And thanne his officeres gan he calle:

"Gooth, bryngeth forth the vesseles," quod he,

"Whiche that my fader in his prosperitee

Out of the temple of Jerusalem birafte;

And to oure hye goddes thanke we

Of honour that oure eldres with us lafte."

Hys wyf, his lordes, and his concubynes

2200 Ay dronken, whil hire appetites laste,

Out of thise noble vessels sondry wynes.

And on a wal this kyng his eyen caste

And saugh an hand, armlees, that wroot ful faste,

For feere of which he quook and siked soore.

This hand that Balthasar so soore agaste

Wroot Mane, techel, phares, and namoore.

In all that land magicien was noon

That koude expoune what this lettre mente;

But Daniel expowned it anoon,

2210 And seyde, "Kyng, God to thy fader lente

Glorie and honour, regne, tresour, rente;

And he was proud and nothyng God ne dradde,

And therfore God greet wreche upon hym sente,

And hym birafte the regne that he hadde.

"He was out cast of mannes compaignye;

With asses was his habitacioun,

And eet hey as a beest in weet and drye

Til that he knew, by grace and by resoun,

That God of hevene hath domynacioun

2220 Over every regne and every creature;

And thanne hadde God of hym compassioun,

And hym restored his regne and his figure.

"Eek thou, that art his sone, art proud also,

And knowest alle thise thynges verraily,

And art rebel to God, and art his foo.

Thou drank eek of his vessels boldely;

Thy wyf eek, and thy wenches, synfully

Dronke of the same vessels sondry wynys;

And heryest false goddes cursedly;

2230 Therefore to thee yshapen ful greet pyne ys.

"This hand was sent from God that on the wal

Wroot Mane, techel, phares, truste me;

Thy regne is doon; thou weyest noght at al.

Dyvyded is thy regne, and it shal be

To Medes and to Perses yeven," quod he.

And thilke same nyght this kyng was slawe,

And Darius occupieth his degree,

Thogh he therto hadde neither right ne lawe.

Lordynges, ensample heerby may ye take

2240 How that in lordshipe is no sikernesse,

For whan Fortune wole a man forsake,

She bereth awey his regne and his richesse,

And eek his freendes, bothe moore and lesse.

For what man that hath freendes thurgh Fortune,

Mishap wol maken hem enemys, I gesse;

This proverbe is ful sooth and ful commune.

Cenobia, of Palymerie queene,

As writen Persiens of hir noblesse,

So worthy was in armes and so keene

2250 That no wight passed hire in hardynesse,

Ne in lynage, ne in oother gentillesse.

Of kynges blood of Perce is she descended.

I seye nat that she hadde moost fairnesse,

But of hir shap she myghte nat been amended.

From hire childhede I fynde that she fledde

Office of wommen, and to wode she wente,

And many a wilde hertes blood she shedde

With arwes brode that she to hem sente.

She was so swift that she anon hem hente;

2260 And whan that she was elder, she wolde kille

Leouns, leopardes, and beres al torente,

And in hir armes weelde hem at hir wille.

She dorste wilde beestes dennes seke,

And rennen in the montaignes al the nyght,

And slepen under a bussh, and she koude eke

Wrastlen, by verray force and verray myght,

With any yong man, were he never so wight.

Ther myghte no thyng in hir armes stonde.

She kepte hir maydenhod from every wight;

2270 To no man deigned hire for to be bonde.

But atte laste hir freendes han hire maried

To Odenake, a prynce of that contree,

Al were it so that she hem longe taried.

And ye shul understonde how that he

Hadde swiche fantasies as hadde she.

But natheless, whan they were knyt in-feere,

They lyved in joye and in felicitee,

For ech of hem hadde oother lief and deere,

Save o thyng: that she wolde nevere assente,

2280 By no wey, that he sholde by hire lye

But ones, for it was hir pleyn entente

To have a child, the world to multiplye;

And also soone as that she myghte espye

That she was nat with childe with that dede,

Thanne wolde she suffre hym doon his fantasye

Eft-soone, and nat but oones, out of drede.

And if she were with childe at thilke cast,

Namoore sholde he pleyen thilke game

Til fully fourty [wikes] weren past;

2290 Thanne wolde she ones suffre hym do the same.

Al were this Odenake wilde or tame,

He gat namoore of hire, for thus she seyde:

It was to wyves lecherie and shame,

In oother caas, if that men with hem pleyde.

Two sones by this Odenake hadde she,

The whiche she kepte in vertu and lettrure.

But now unto oure tale turne we.

I seye, so worshipful a creature,

And wys therwith, and large with mesure,

2300 So penyble in the werre, and curteis eke,

Ne moore labour myghte in werre endure,

Was noon, though al this world men sholde seke.

Hir riche array ne myghte nat be told,

As wel in vessel as in hire clothyng.

She was al clad in perree and in gold,

And eek she lafte noght, for noon huntyng,

To have of sondry tonges ful knowyng,

Whan that she leyser hadde; and for to entende

To lerne bookes was al hire likyng,

2310 How she in vertu myghte hir lyf dispende.

And shortly of this storie for to trete,

So doghty was hir housbonde and eek she,

That they conquered manye regnes grete

In the orient, with many a fair citee

Apertenaunt unto the magestee

Of Rome, and with strong hond held hem ful faste,

Ne nevere myghte hir foomen doon hem flee,

Ay whil that Odenakes dayes laste.

Hir batailles, whoso list hem for to rede,

2320 Agayn Sapor the kyng and othere mo,

And how that al this proces fil in dede,

Why she conquered and what title had therto,

And after, of hir meschief and hire wo,

How that she was biseged and ytake --

Lat hym unto my maister Petrak go,

That writ ynough of this, I undertake.

Whan Odenake was deed, she myghtily

The regnes heeld, and with hire propre hond

Agayn hir foos she faught so cruelly

2330 That ther nas kyng ne prynce in al that lond

That he nas glad, if he that grace fond,

That she ne wolde upon his lond werreye.

With hire they maden alliance by bond

To been in pees, and lete hire ride and pleye.

The Emperour of Rome, Claudius

Ne hym bifore, the Romayn Galien,

Ne dorste nevere been so corageus,

Ne noon Ermyn, ne noon Egipcien,

Ne Surrien, ne noon Arabyen,

2340 Withinne the feeld that dorste with hire fighte,

Lest that she wolde hem with hir handes slen,

Or with hir meignee putten hem to flighte.

In kynges habit wente hir sones two,

As heires of hir fadres regnes alle,

And Hermanno and Thymalao

Hir names were, as Persiens hem calle.

But ay Fortune hath in hire hony galle;

This myghty queene may no while endure.

Fortune out of hir regne made hire falle

2350 To wrecchednesse and to mysaventure.

Aurelian, whan that the governaunce

Of Rome cam into his handes tweye,

He shoop upon this queene to doon vengeaunce.

And with his legions he took his weye

Toward Cenobie, and shortly for to seye,

He made hire flee, and atte laste hire hente,

And fettred hire, and eek hire children tweye,

And wan the land, and hoom to Rome he wente.

Amonges othere thynges that he wan,

2360 Hir chaar, that was with gold wroght and perree,

This grete Romayn, this Aurelian,

Hath with hym lad, for that men sholde it see.

Biforen his triumphe walketh shee,

With gilte cheynes on hire nekke hangynge.

Coroned was she, as after hir degree,

And ful of perree charged hire clothynge.

Allas, Fortune! She that whilom was

Dredeful to kynges and to emperoures,

Now gaureth al the peple on hire, allas!

2370 And she that helmed was in starke stoures

And wan by force townes stronge and toures,

Shal on hir heed now were a vitremyte;

And she that bar the ceptre ful of floures

Shal bere a distaf, hire cost for to quyte.

O noble, O worthy Petro, glorie of Spayne,

Whom Fortune heeld so hye in magestee,

Wel oghten men thy pitous deeth complayne!

Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee,

And after, at a seege, by subtiltee,

2380 Thou were bitraysed and lad unto his tente,

Where as he with his owene hand slow thee,

Succedynge in thy regne and in thy rente.

The feeld of snow, with th' egle of blak therinne,

Caught with the lymrod coloured as the gleede,

He brew this cursednesse and al this synne.

The wikked nest was werker of this nede.

Noght Charles Olyver, that took ay heede

Of trouthe and honour, but of Armorike

Genylon-Olyver, corrupt for meede,

2390 Broghte this worthy kyng in swich a brike.

O worthy Petro, kyng of Cipre, also,

That Alisandre wan by heigh maistrie,

Ful many an hethen wroghtestow ful wo,

Of which thyne owene liges hadde envie,

And for no thyng but for thy chivalrie

They in thy bed han slayn thee by the morwe.

Thus kan Fortune hir wheel governe and gye,

And out of joye brynge men to sorwe.

Off Melan grete Barnabo Viscounte,

2400 God of delit and scourge of Lumbardye,

Why sholde I nat thyn infortune acounte,

Sith in estaat thow cloumbe were so hye?

Thy brother sone, that was thy double allye,

For he thy nevew was and sone-in-lawe,

Withinne his prisoun made thee to dye --

But why ne how noot I that thou were slawe.

Off the Erl Hugelyn of Pyze the langour

Ther may no tonge telle for pitee.

But litel out of Pize stant a tour,

2410 In which tour in prisoun put was he,

And with hym been his litel children thre;

The eldest scarsly fyf yeer was of age.

Allas, Fortune, it was greet crueltee

Swiche briddes for to putte in swich a cage!

Dampned was he to dyen in that prisoun,

For Roger, which that bisshop was of Pize,

Hadde on hym maad a fals suggestioun,

Thurgh which the peple gan upon hym rise

And putten hym to prisoun in swich wise

2420 As ye han herd, and mete and drynke he hadde

So smal that wel unnethe it may suffise,

And therwithal it was ful povre and badde.

And on a day bifil that in that hour

Whan that his mete wont was to be broght,

The gayler shette the dores of the tour.

He herde it wel, but he spak right noght,

And in his herte anon ther fil a thoght

That they for hunger wolde doon hym dyen.

"Allas!" quod he, "Allas, that I was wroght!"

2430 Therwith the teeris fillen from his yen.

His yonge sone, that thre yeer was of age,

Unto hym seyde, "Fader, why do ye wepe?

Whanne wol the gayler bryngen oure potage?

Is ther no morsel breed that ye do kepe?

I am so hungry that I may nat slepe.

Now wolde God that I myghte slepen evere!

Thanne sholde nat hunger in my wombe crepe;

Ther is no thyng, but breed, that me were levere."

Thus day by day this child bigan to crye,

2440 Til in his fadres barm adoun it lay,

And seyde, "Farewel, fader, I moot dye!"

And kiste his fader, and dyde the same day.

And whan the woful fader deed it say,

For wo his armes two he gan to byte,

And seyde, "Allas, Fortune, and weylaway!

Thy false wheel my wo al may I wyte."

His children wende that it for hunger was

That he his armes gnow, and nat for wo,

And seyde, "Fader, do nat so, allas!

2450 But rather ete the flessh upon us two.

Oure flessh thou yaf us, take oure flessh us fro,

And ete ynogh" -- right thus they to hym seyde,

And after that, withinne a day or two,

They leyde hem in his lappe adoun and deyde.

Hymself, despeired, eek for hunger starf;

Thus ended is this myghty Erl of Pize.

From heigh estaat Fortune awey hym carf.

Of this tragedie it oghte ynough suffise;

Whoso wol here it in a lenger wise,

2460 Redeth the grete poete of Ytaille

That highte Dant, for he kan al devyse

Fro point to point; nat o word wol he faille.

Although that Nero were as vicius

As any feend that lith ful lowe adoun,

Yet he, as telleth us Swetonius,

This wyde world hadde in subjeccioun,

Bothe est and west, [south], and septemtrioun.

Of rubies, saphires, and of peerles white

Were alle his clothes brouded up and doun,

2470 For he in gemmes greetly gan delite.

Moore delicaat, moore pompous of array,

Moore proud was nevere emperour than he;

That ilke clooth that he hadde wered o day,

After that tyme he nolde it nevere see.

Nettes of gold threed hadde he greet plentee

To fisshe in Tybre, whan hym liste pleye.

His lustes were al lawe in his decree,

For Fortune as his freend hym wolde obeye.

He Rome brende for his delicasie;

2480 The senatours he slow upon a day

To heere how that men wolde wepe and crie;

And slow his brother, and by his suster lay.

His mooder made he in pitous array,

For he hire wombe slitte to biholde

Where he conceyved was -- so weilaway

That he so litel of his mooder tolde!

No teere out of his eyen for that sighte

Ne cam, but seyde, "A fair womman was she!"

Greet wonder is how that he koude or myghte

2490 Be domesman of hire dede beautee.

The wyn to bryngen hym comanded he,

And drank anon -- noon oother wo he made.

Whan myght is joyned unto crueltee,

Allas, to depe wol the venym wade!

In yowthe a maister hadde this emperour

To teche hym letterure and curteisye,

For of moralitee he was the flour,

As in his tyme, but if bookes lye;

And whil this maister hadde of hym maistrye,

2500 He maked hym so konnyng and so sowple

That longe tyme it was er tirannye

Or any vice dorste on hym uncowple.

This Seneca, of which that I devyse,

By cause Nero hadde of hym swich drede,

For he fro vices wolde hym ay chastise

Discreetly, as by word and nat by dede --

"Sire," wolde he seyn, "an emperour moot nede

Be vertuous and hate tirannye --"

For which he in a bath made hym to blede

2510 On bothe his armes, til he moste dye.

This Nero hadde eek of acustumaunce

In youthe agayns his maister for to ryse,

Which afterward hym thoughte a greet grevaunce;

Therefore he made hym dyen in this wise.

But natheless this Seneca the wise

Chees in a bath to dye in this manere

Rather than han another tormentise;

And thus hath Nero slayn his maister deere.

Now fil it so that Fortune liste no lenger

2520 The hye pryde of Nero to cherice,

For though that he were strong, yet was she strenger.

She thoughte thus: "By God! I am to nyce

To sette a man that is fulfild of vice

In heigh degree, and emperour hym calle.

By God, out of his sete I wol hym trice;

Whan he leest weneth, sonnest shal he falle."

The peple roos upon hym on a nyght

For his defaute, and whan he it espied,

Out of his dores anon he hath hym dight

2530 Allone, and ther he wende han been allied

He knokked faste, and ay the moore he cried

The fastere shette they the dores alle.

Tho wiste he wel, he hadde himself mysgyed,

And wente his wey; no lenger dorste he calle.

The peple cried and rombled up and doun,

That with his erys herde he how they seyde,

"Where is this false tiraunt, this Neroun?"

For fere almoost out of his wit he breyde,

And to his goddes pitously he preyde

2540 For socour, but it myghte nat bityde.

For drede of this hym thoughte that he deyde,

And ran into a gardyn hym to hyde.

And in this gardyn foond he cherles tweye

That seten by a fyr, greet and reed.

And to thise cherles two he gan to preye

To sleen hym and to girden of his heed,

That to his body, whan that he were deed,

Were no despit ydoon for his defame.

Hymself he slow, he koude no bettre reed,

2550 Of which Fortune lough, and hadde a game.

Was nevere capitayn under a kyng

That regnes mo putte in subjeccioun,

Ne strenger was in feeld of alle thyng,

As in his tyme, ne gretter of renoun,

Ne moore pompous in heigh presumpcioun

Than Oloferne, which Fortune ay kiste

So likerously, and ladde hym up and doun

Til that his heed was of, er that he wiste.

Nat oonly that this world hadde hym in awe

2560 For lesynge of richesse or libertee,

But he made every man reneyen his lawe.

"Nabugodonosor was god," seyde hee;

"Noon oother god sholde adoured bee."

Agayns his heeste no wight dorst trespace,

Save in Bethulia, a strong citee,

Where Eliachim a preest was of that place.

But taak kep of the deth of Oloferne:

Amydde his hoost he dronke lay a-nyght,

Withinne his tente, large as is a berne,

2570 And yet, for al his pompe and al his myght,

Judith, a womman, as he lay upright

Slepynge, his heed of smoot, and from his tente

Ful pryvely she stal from every wight,

And with his heed unto hir toun she wente.

What nedeth it of kyng Anthiochus

To telle his hye roial magestee,

His hye pride, his werkes venymus?

For swich another was ther noon as he.

Rede which that he was in Machabee,

2580 And rede the proude wordes that he seyde,

And why he fil fro heigh prosperitee,

And in an hill how wrecchedly he deyde.

Fortune hym hadde enhaunced so in pride

That verraily he wende he myghte attayne

Unto the sterres upon every syde,

And in balance weyen ech montayne,

And alle the floodes of the see restrayne.

And Goddes peple hadde he moost in hate;

Hem wolde he sleen in torment and in payne,

2590 Wenynge that God ne myghte his pride abate.

And for that Nichanore and Thymothee

Of Jewes weren venquysshed myghtily,

Unto the Jewes swich an hate hadde he

That he bad greithen his chaar ful hastily,

And swoor, and seyde ful despitously

Unto Jerusalem he wolde eftsoone

To wreken his ire on it ful cruelly;

But of his purpos he was let ful soone.

God for his manace hym so soore smoot

2600 With invisible wounde, ay incurable,

That in his guttes carf it so and boot

That his peynes weren importable.

And certeinly the wreche was resonable,

For many a mannes guttes dide he peyne.

But from his purpos cursed and dampnable,

For al his smert, he wolde hym nat restreyne,

But bad anon apparaillen his hoost;

And sodeynly, er he was of it war,

God daunted al his pride and al his boost.

2610 For he so soore fil out of his char

That it his limes and his skyn totar,

So that he neyther myghte go ne ryde,

But in a chayer men aboute hym bar,

Al forbrused, bothe bak and syde.

The wreche of God hym smoot so cruelly

That thurgh his body wikked wormes crepte,

And therwithal he stank so horribly

That noon of al his meynee that hym kepte,

Wheither so he wook or ellis slepte,

2620 Ne myghte noght the stynk of hym endure.

In this meschief he wayled and eek wepte,

And knew God lord of every creature.

To al his hoost and to hymself also

Ful wlatsom was the stynk of his careyne;

No man ne myghte hym bere to ne fro.

And in this stynk and this horrible peyne,

He starf ful wrecchedly in a monteyne.

Thus hath this robbour and this homycide,

That many a man made to wepe and pleyne,

2630 Swich gerdoun as bilongeth unto pryde.

The storie of Alisaundre is so commune

That every wight that hath discrecioun

Hath herd somwhat or al of his fortune.

This wyde world, as in conclusioun,

He wan by strengthe, or for his hye renoun

They weren glad for pees unto hym sende.

The pride of man and beest he leyde adoun,

Wherso he cam, unto the worldes ende.

Comparisoun myghte nevere yet been maked

2640 Bitwixe hym and another conquerour;

For al this world for drede of hym hath quaked.

He was of knyghthod and of fredom flour;

Fortune hym made the heir of hire honour.

Save wyn and wommen, no thing myghte aswage

His hye entente in armes and labour,

So was he ful of leonyn corage.

What pris were it to hym, though I yow tolde

Of Darius, and an hundred thousand mo

Of kynges, princes, dukes, erles bolde

2650 Whiche he conquered, and broghte hem into wo?

I seye, as fer as man may ryde or go,

The world was his -- what sholde I moore devyse?

For though I write or tolde yow everemo

Of his knyghthod, it myghte nat suffise.

Twelf yeer he regned, as seith Machabee.

Philippes sone of Macidoyne he was,

That first was kyng in Grece the contree.

O worthy, gentil Alisandre, allas,

That evere sholde fallen swich a cas!

2660 Empoysoned of thyn owene folk thou weere;

Thy sys Fortune hath turned into aas,

And for thee ne weep she never a teere.

Who shal me yeven teeris to compleyne

The deeth of gentillesse and of franchise,

That al the world weelded in his demeyne,

And yet hym thoughte it myghte nat suffise?

So ful was his corage of heigh emprise.

Allas, who shal me helpe to endite

False Fortune, and poyson to despise,

2670 The whiche two of al this wo I wyte?

By wisedom, manhede, and by greet labour,

From humble bed to roial magestee

Up roos he Julius, the conquerour,

That wan al th' occident by land and see,

By strengthe of hand, or elles by tretee,

And unto Rome made hem tributarie;

And sitthe of Rome the emperour was he

Til that Fortune weex his adversarie.

O myghty Cesar, that in Thessalie

2680 Agayn Pompeus, fader thyn in lawe,

That of the orient hadde al the chivalrie

As fer as that the day bigynneth dawe,

Thou thurgh thy knyghthod hast hem take and slawe,

Save fewe folk that with Pompeus fledde,

Thurgh which thou puttest al th' orient in awe.

Thanke Fortune, that so wel thee spedde!

But now a litel while I wol biwaille

This Pompeus, this noble governour

Of Rome, which that fleigh at this bataille.

2690 I seye, oon of his men, a fals traitour,

His heed of smoot, to wynnen hym favour

Of Julius, and hym the heed he broghte.

Allas, Pompeye, of th' orient conquerour,

That Fortune unto swich a fyn thee broghte!

To Rome agayn repaireth Julius

With his triumphe, lauriat ful hye;

But on a tyme Brutus Cassius,

That evere hadde of his hye estaat envye,

Ful prively hath maad conspiracye

2700 Agayns this Julius in subtil wise,

And caste the place in which he sholde dye

With boydekyns, as I shal yow devyse.

This Julius to the Capitolie wente

Upon a day, as he was wont to goon,

And in the Capitolie anon hym hente

This false Brutus and his othere foon,

And stiked hym with boydekyns anoon

With many a wounde, and thus they lete hym lye;

But nevere gronte he at no strook but oon,

2710 Or elles at two, but if his storie lye.

So manly was this Julius of herte,

And so wel lovede estaatly honestee,

That though his deedly woundes soore smerte,

His mantel over his hypes caste he,

For no man sholde seen his privetee;

And as he lay of diyng in a traunce,

And wiste verraily that deed was hee,

Of honestee yet hadde he remembraunce.

Lucan, to thee this storie I recomende,

2720 And to Swetoun, and to Valerius also,

That of this storie writen word and ende,

How that to thise grete conqueroures two

Fortune was first freend, and sitthe foo.

No man ne truste upon hire favour longe,

But have hire in awayt for everemoo;

Witnesse on alle thise conqueroures stronge.

This riche Cresus, whilom kyng of Lyde,

Of which Cresus Cirus soore hym dradde,

Yet was he caught amyddes al his pryde,

2730 And to be brent men to the fyr hym ladde.

But swich a reyn doun fro the welkne shadde

That slow the fyr, and made hym to escape;

But to be war no grace yet he hadde,

Til Fortune on the galwes made hym gape.

Whanne he escaped was, he kan nat stente

For to bigynne a newe werre agayn.

He wende wel, for that Fortune hym sente

Swich hap that he escaped thurgh the rayn,

That of his foos he myghte nat be slayn;

2740 And eek a sweven upon a nyght he mette,

Of which he was so proud and eek so fayn

That in vengeance he al his herte sette.

Upon a tree he was, as that hym thoughte,

Ther Juppiter hym wessh, bothe bak and syde,

And Phebus eek a fair towaille hym broughte

To dryen hym with; and therfore wax his pryde,

And to his doghter, that stood hym bisyde,

Which that he knew in heigh sentence habounde,

He bad hire telle hym what it signyfyde,

2750 And she his dreem bigan right thus expounde:

"The tree," quod she, "the galwes is to meene,

And Juppiter bitokneth snow and reyn,

And Phebus, with his towaille so clene,

Tho been the sonne stremes for to seyn.

Thou shalt anhanged be, fader, certeyn;

Reyn shal thee wasshe, and sonne shal thee drye."

Thus warned hym ful plat and ek ful pleyn

His doghter, which that called was Phanye.

Anhanged was Cresus, the proude kyng;

2760 His roial trone myghte hym nat availle.

Tragedies noon oother maner thyng

Ne kan in syngyng crie ne biwaille

But that Fortune alwey wole assaille

With unwar strook the regnes that been proude;

For whan men trusteth hire, thanne wol she faille,

And covere hire brighte face with a clowde.

THE NUN'S PRIEST'S PROLOGUE

"Hoo!" quod the Knyght, "good sire, namoore of this!

That ye han seyd is right ynough, ywis,

And muchel moore; for litel hevynesse

2770 Is right ynough to muche folk, I gesse.

I seye for me, it is a greet disese,

Whereas men han been in greet welthe and ese,

To heeren of hire sodeyn fal, allas!

And the contrarie is joye and greet solas,

As whan a man hath been in povre estaat,

And clymbeth up and wexeth fortunat,

And there abideth in prosperitee.

Swich thyng is gladsom, as it thynketh me,

And of swich thyng were goodly for to telle."

2780 "Ye," quod oure Hooste, "by Seint Poules belle!

Ye seye right sooth; this Monk he clappeth lowde.

He spak how Fortune covered with a clowde

I noot nevere what; and als of a tragedie

Right now ye herde, and pardee, no remedie

It is for to biwaille ne compleyne

That that is doon, and als it is a peyne,

As ye han seyd, to heere of hevynesse.

"Sire Monk, namoore of this, so God yow blesse!

Youre tale anoyeth al this compaignye.

2790 Swich talkyng is nat worth a boterflye,

For therinne is ther no desport ne game.

Wherfore, sire Monk, daun Piers by youre name,

I pray yow hertely telle us somwhat elles;

For sikerly, nere clynkyng of youre belles

That on youre bridel hange on every syde,

By hevene kyng that for us alle dyde,

I sholde er this han fallen doun for sleep,

Althogh the slough had never been so deep;

Thanne hadde your tale al be toold in veyn.

2800 For certeinly, as that thise clerkes seyn,

Whereas a man may have noon audience,

Noght helpeth it to tellen his sentence.

"And wel I woot the substance is in me,

If any thyng shal wel reported be.

Sir, sey somwhat of huntyng, I yow preye."

"Nay," quod this Monk, "I have no lust to pleye.

Now lat another telle, as I have toold."

Thanne spak oure Hoost with rude speche and boold,

And seyde unto the Nonnes Preest anon,

2810 "Com neer, thou preest, com hyder, thou sir John!

Telle us swich thyng as may oure hertes glade.

Be blithe, though thou ryde upon a jade.

What thogh thyn hors be bothe foul and lene?

If he wol serve thee, rekke nat a bene.

Looke that thyn herte be murie everemo."

"Yis, sir," quod he, "yis, Hoost, so moot I go,

But I be myrie, ywis I wol be blamed."

And right anon his tale he hath attamed,

And thus he seyde unto us everichon,

2820 This sweete preest, this goodly man sir John.

THE NUN'S PRIEST'S TALE

A povre wydwe, somdeel stape in age,

Was whilom dwellyng in a narwe cotage,

Biside a grove, stondynge in a dale.

This wydwe, of which I telle yow my tale,

Syn thilke day that she was last a wyf

In pacience ladde a ful symple lyf,

For litel was hir catel and hir rente.

By housbondrie of swich as God hire sente

She foond hirself and eek hir doghtren two.

2830 Thre large sowes hadde she, and namo,

Three keen, and eek a sheep that highte Malle.

Ful sooty was hire bour and eek hir halle,

In which she eet ful many a sklendre meel.

Of poynaunt sauce hir neded never a deel.

No deyntee morsel passed thurgh hir throte;

Hir diete was accordant to hir cote.

Repleccioun ne made hire nevere sik;

Attempree diete was al hir phisik,

And exercise, and hertes suffisaunce.

2840 The goute lette hire nothyng for to daunce,

N' apoplexie shente nat hir heed.

No wyn ne drank she, neither whit ne reed;

Hir bord was served moost with whit and blak --

Milk and broun breed, in which she foond no lak,

Seynd bacoun, and somtyme an ey or tweye,

For she was, as it were, a maner deye.

A yeerd she hadde, enclosed al aboute

With stikkes, and a drye dych withoute,

In which she hadde a cok, hight Chauntecleer.

2850 In al the land, of crowyng nas his peer.

His voys was murier than the murie orgon

On messe-dayes that in the chirche gon.

Wel sikerer was his crowyng in his logge

Than is a clokke or an abbey orlogge.

By nature he knew ech ascencioun

Of the equynoxial in thilke toun;

For whan degrees fiftene weren ascended,

Thanne crew he that it myghte nat been amended.

His coomb was redder than the fyn coral,

2860 And batailled as it were a castel wal;

His byle was blak, and as the jeet it shoon;

Lyk asure were his legges and his toon;

His nayles whitter than the lylye flour,

And lyk the burned gold was his colour.

This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce

Sevene hennes for to doon al his plesaunce,

Whiche were his sustres and his paramours,

And wonder lyk to hym, as of colours;

Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir throte

2870 Was cleped faire damoysele Pertelote.

Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire,

And compaignable, and bar hyrself so faire

Syn thilke day that she was seven nyght oold

That trewely she hath the herte in hoold

Of Chauntecleer, loken in every lith;

He loved hire so that wel was hym therwith.

But swich a joye was it to here hem synge,

Whan that the brighte sonne gan to sprynge,

In sweete accord, "My lief is faren in londe!" --

2880 For thilke tyme, as I have understonde,

Beestes and briddes koude speke and synge.

And so bifel that in a dawenynge,

As Chauntecleer among his wyves alle

Sat on his perche, that was in the halle,

And next hym sat this faire Pertelote,

This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte,

As man that in his dreem is drecched soore.

And whan that Pertelote thus herde hym roore,

She was agast and seyde, "Herte deere,

2890 What eyleth yow, to grone in this manere?

Ye been a verray sleper; fy, for shame!"

And he answerde, and seyde thus: "Madame,

I pray yow that ye take it nat agrief.

By God, me mette I was in swich meschief

Right now that yet myn herte is soore afright.

Now God," quod he, "my swevene recche aright,

And kepe my body out of foul prisoun!

Me mette how that I romed up and doun

Withinne our yeerd, wheer as I saugh a beest

2900 Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad areest

Upon my body, and wolde han had me deed.

His colour was bitwixe yelow and reed,

And tipped was his tayl and bothe his eeris

With blak, unlyk the remenant of his heeris;

His snowte smal, with glowynge eyen tweye.

Yet of his look for feere almoost I deye;

This caused me my gronyng, doutelees."

"Avoy!" quod she, "fy on yow, hertelees!

Allas," quod she, "for, by that God above,

2910 Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love!

I kan nat love a coward, by my feith!

For certes, what so any womman seith,

We alle desiren, if it myghte bee,

To han housbondes hardy, wise, and free,

And secree -- and no nygard, ne no fool,

Ne hym that is agast of every tool,

Ne noon avauntour, by that God above!

How dorste ye seyn, for shame, unto youre love

That any thyng myghte make yow aferd?

2920 Have ye no mannes herte, and han a berd?

Allas! And konne ye been agast of swevenys?

Nothyng, God woot, but vanitee in sweven is.

Swevenes engendren of replecciouns,

And ofte of fume and of complecciouns,

Whan humours been to habundant in a wight.

Certes this dreem, which ye han met to-nyght,

Cometh of the greete superfluytee

Of youre rede colera, pardee,

Which causeth folk to dreden in hir dremes

2930 Of arwes, and of fyr with rede lemes,

Of rede beestes, that they wol hem byte,

Of contek, and of whelpes, grete and lyte;

Right as the humour of malencolie

Causeth ful many a man in sleep to crie

For feere of blake beres, or boles blake,

Or elles blake develes wole hem take.

Of othere humours koude I telle also

That werken many a man sleep ful wo;

But I wol passe as lightly as I kan.

2940 "Lo Catoun, which that was so wys a man,

Seyde he nat thus, `Ne do no fors of dremes'?

"Now sire," quod she, "whan we flee fro the bemes,

For Goddes love, as taak som laxatyf.

Up peril of my soule and of my lyf,

I conseille yow the beste -- I wol nat lye --

That bothe of colere and of malencolye

Ye purge yow; and for ye shal nat tarie,

Though in this toun is noon apothecarie,

I shal myself to herbes techen yow

2950 That shul been for youre hele and for youre prow;

And in oure yeerd tho herbes shal I fynde

The whiche han of hire propretee by kynde

To purge yow bynethe and eek above.

Foryet nat this, for Goddes owene love!

Ye been ful coleryk of compleccioun;

Ware the sonne in his ascencioun

Ne fynde yow nat repleet of humours hoote.

And if it do, I dar wel leye a grote,

That ye shul have a fevere terciane,

2960 Or an agu that may be youre bane.

A day or two ye shul have digestyves

Of wormes, er ye take youre laxatyves

Of lawriol, centaure, and fumetere,

Or elles of ellebor, that groweth there,

Of katapuce, or of gaitrys beryis,

Of herbe yve, growyng in oure yeerd, ther mery is;

Pekke hem up right as they growe and ete hem yn.

Be myrie, housbonde, for youre fader kyn!

Dredeth no dreem; I kan sey yow namoore."

2970 "Madame," quod he, "graunt mercy of youre loore.

But nathelees, as touchyng daun Catoun,

That hath of wysdom swich a greet renoun,

Though that he bad no dremes for to drede,

By God, men may in olde bookes rede

Of many a man moore of auctorite

Than evere Caton was, so moot I thee,

That al the revers seyn of this sentence,

And han wel founden by experience

That dremes been significaciouns

2980 As wel of joye as of tribulaciouns

That folk enduren in this lif present.

Ther nedeth make of this noon argument;

The verray preeve sheweth it in dede.

"Oon of the gretteste auctour that men rede

Seith thus: that whilom two felawes wente

On pilgrimage, in a ful good entente,

And happed so, they coomen in a toun

Wher as ther was swich congregacioun

Of peple, and eek so streit of herbergage,

2990 That they ne founde as muche as o cotage

In which they bothe myghte ylogged bee.

Wherfore they mosten of necessitee,

As for that nyght, departen compaignye;

And ech of hem gooth to his hostelrye,

And took his loggyng as it wolde falle.

That oon of hem was logged in a stalle,

Fer in a yeerd, with oxen of the plough;

That oother man was logged wel ynough,

As was his aventure or his fortune,

3000 That us governeth alle as in commune.

"And so bifel that, longe er it were day,

This man mette in his bed, ther as he lay,

How that his felawe gan upon hym calle,

And seyde, `Allas, for in an oxes stalle

This nyght I shal be mordred ther I lye!

Now help me, deere brother, or I dye.

In alle haste com to me!' he sayde.

This man out of his sleep for feere abrayde;

But whan that he was wakened of his sleep,

3010 He turned hym and took of this no keep.

Hym thoughte his dreem nas but a vanitee.

Thus twies in his slepyng dremed hee;

And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe

Cam, as hym thoughte, and seide, `I am now slawe.

Bihoold my bloody woundes depe and wyde!

Arys up erly in the morwe tyde,

And at the west gate of the toun,' quod he,

`A carte ful of dong ther shaltow se,

In which my body is hid ful prively;

3020 Do thilke carte arresten boldely.

My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn,'

And tolde hym every point how he was slayn,

With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe.

And truste wel, his dreem he foond ful trewe,

For on the morwe, as soone as it was day,

To his felawes in he took the way;

And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle,

After his felawe he bigan to calle.

"The hostiler answerede hym anon,

3030 And seyde, `Sire, your felawe is agon.

As soone as day he wente out of the toun.'

"This man gan fallen in suspecioun,

Remembrynge on his dremes that he mette,

And forth he gooth -- no lenger wolde he lette --

Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond

A dong-carte, wente as it were to donge lond,

That was arrayed in that same wise

As ye han herd the dede man devyse.

And with an hardy herte he gan to crye

3040 Vengeance and justice of this felonye:

`My felawe mordred is this same nyght,

And in this carte he lith gapyng upright.

I crye out on the ministres,' quod he,

`That sholden kepe and reulen this citee.

Harrow! Allas! Heere lith my felawe slayn!'

What sholde I moore unto this tale sayn?

The peple out sterte and caste the cart to grounde,

And in the myddel of the dong they founde

The dede man, that mordred was al newe.

3050 "O blisful God, that art so just and trewe,

Lo, how that thou biwreyest mordre alway!

Mordre wol out; that se we day by day.

Mordre is so wlatsom and abhomynable

To God, that is so just and resonable,

That he ne wol nat suffre it heled be,

Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or thre.

Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun.

And right anon, ministres of that toun

Han hent the carter and so soore hym pyned,

3060 And eek the hostiler so soore engyned,

That they biknewe hire wikkednesse anon,

And were anhanged by the nekke-bon.

"Heere may men seen that dremes been to drede.

And certes in the same book I rede,

Right in the nexte chapitre after this --

I gabbe nat, so have I joye or blis --

Two men that wolde han passed over see,

For certeyn cause, into a fer contree,

If that the wynd ne hadde been contrarie,

3070 That made hem in a citee for to tarie

That stood ful myrie upon an haven-syde;

But on a day, agayn the even-tyde,

The wynd gan chaunge, and blew right as hem leste.

Jolif and glad they wente unto hir reste,

And casten hem ful erly for to saille.

But herkneth! To that o man fil a greet mervaille:

That oon of hem, in slepyng as he lay,

Hym mette a wonder dreem agayn the day.

Hym thoughte a man stood by his beddes syde,

3080 And hym comanded that he sholde abyde,

And seyde hym thus: `If thou tomorwe wende,

Thow shalt be dreynt; my tale is at an ende.'

He wook, and tolde his felawe what he mette,

And preyde hym his viage for to lette;

As for that day, he preyde hym to byde.

His felawe, that lay by his beddes syde,

Gan for to laughe, and scorned him ful faste.

`No dreem,' quod he, `may so myn herte agaste

That I wol lette for to do my thynges.

3090 I sette nat a straw by thy dremynges,

For swevenes been but vanytees and japes.

Men dreme alday of owles and of apes,

And of many a maze therwithal;

Men dreme of thyng that nevere was ne shal.

But sith I see that thou wolt heere abyde,

And thus forslewthen wilfully thy tyde,

God woot, it reweth me; and have good day!'

And thus he took his leve, and wente his way.

But er that he hadde half his cours yseyled,

3100 Noot I nat why, ne what myschaunce it eyled,

But casuelly the shippes botme rente,

And ship and man under the water wente

In sighte of othere shippes it bisyde,

That with hem seyled at the same tyde.

And therfore, faire Pertelote so deere,

By swiche ensamples olde maistow leere

That no man sholde been to recchelees

Of dremes; for I seye thee, doutelees,

That many a dreem ful soore is for to drede.

3110 "Lo, in the lyf of Seint Kenelm I rede,

That was Kenulphus sone, the noble kyng

Of Mercenrike, how Kenelm mette a thyng.

A lite er he was mordred, on a day,

His mordre in his avysioun he say.

His norice hym expowned every deel

His sweven, and bad hym for to kepe hym weel

For traisoun; but he nas but seven yeer oold,

And therfore litel tale hath he toold

Of any dreem, so hooly was his herte.

3120 By God! I hadde levere than my sherte

That ye hadde rad his legende, as have I.

"Dame Pertelote, I sey yow trewely,

Macrobeus, that writ the avisioun

In Affrike of the worthy Cipioun,

Affermeth dremes, and seith that they been

Warnynge of thynges that men after seen.

And forthermoore, I pray yow, looketh wel

In the olde testament, of Daniel,

If he heeld dremes any vanitee.

3130 Reed eek of Joseph, and ther shul ye see

Wher dremes be somtyme -- I sey nat alle --

Warnynge of thynges that shul after falle.

Looke of Egipte the kyng, daun Pharao,

His bakere and his butiller also,

Wher they ne felte noon effect in dremes.

Whoso wol seken actes of sondry remes

May rede of dremes many a wonder thyng.

Lo Cresus, which that was of Lyde kyng,

Mette he nat that he sat upon a tree,

3140 Which signified he sholde anhanged bee?

Lo heere Andromacha, Ectores wyf,

That day that Ector sholde lese his lyf,

She dremed on the same nyght biforn

How that the lyf of Ector sholde be lorn,

If thilke day he wente into bataille.

She warned hym, but it myghte nat availle;

He wente for to fighte natheles,

But he was slayn anon of Achilles.

But thilke tale is al to longe to telle,

3150 And eek it is ny day; I may nat dwelle.

Shortly I seye, as for conclusioun,

That I shal han of this avisioun

Adversitee; and I seye forthermoor

That I ne telle of laxatyves no stoor,

For they been venymes, I woot it weel;

I hem diffye, I love hem never a deel!

"Now let us speke of myrthe, and stynte al this.

Madame Pertelote, so have I blis,

Of o thyng God hath sent me large grace;

3160 For whan I se the beautee of youre face,

Ye been so scarlet reed aboute youre yen,

It maketh al my drede for to dyen;

For al so siker as In principio,

Mulier est hominis confusio --

Madame, the sentence of this Latyn is,

`Womman is mannes joye and al his blis.'

For whan I feele a-nyght your softe syde --

Al be it that I may nat on yow ryde,

For that oure perche is maad so narwe, allas --

3170 I am so ful of joye and of solas,

That I diffye bothe sweven and dreem."

And with that word he fley doun fro the beem,

For it was day, and eke his hennes alle,

And with a chuk he gan hem for to calle,

For he hadde founde a corn, lay in the yerd.

Real he was, he was namoore aferd.

He fethered Pertelote twenty tyme,

And trad hire eke as ofte, er it was pryme.

He looketh as it were a grym leoun,

3180 And on his toos he rometh up and doun;

Hym deigned nat to sette his foot to grounde.

He chukketh whan he hath a corn yfounde,

And to hym rennen thanne his wyves alle.

Thus roial, as a prince is in his halle,

Leve I this Chauntecleer in his pasture,

And after wol I telle his aventure.

Whan that the month in which the world bigan,

That highte March, whan God first maked man,

Was compleet, and passed were also,

3190 Syn March [was gon], thritty dayes and two,

Bifel that Chauntecleer in al his pryde,

His sevene wyves walkynge by his syde,

Caste up his eyen to the brighte sonne,

That in the signe of Taurus hadde yronne

Twenty degrees and oon, and somwhat moore,

And knew by kynde, and by noon oother loore,

That it was pryme, and crew with blisful stevene.

"The sonne," he seyde, "is clomben up on hevene

Fourty degrees and oon, and moore ywis.

3200 Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis,

Herkneth thise blisful briddes how they synge,

And se the fresshe floures how they sprynge;

Ful is myn herte of revel and solas!"

But sodeynly hym fil a sorweful cas,

For evere the latter ende of joye is wo.

God woot that worldly joye is soone ago;

And if a rethor koude faire endite,

He in a cronycle saufly myghte it write

As for a sovereyn notabilitee.

3210 Now every wys man, lat him herkne me;

This storie is also trewe, I undertake,

As is the book of Launcelot de Lake,

That wommen holde in ful greet reverence.

Now wol I torne agayn to my sentence.

A col-fox, ful of sly iniquitee,

That in the grove hadde woned yeres three,

By heigh ymaginacioun forncast,

The same nyght thurghout the hegges brast

Into the yerd ther Chauntecleer the faire

3220 Was wont, and eek his wyves, to repaire;

And in a bed of wortes stille he lay

Til it was passed undren of the day,

Waitynge his tyme on Chauntecleer to falle,

As gladly doon thise homycides alle

That in await liggen to mordre men.

O false mordrour, lurkynge in thy den!

O newe Scariot, newe Genylon,

False dissymulour, o Greek Synon,

That broghtest Troye al outrely to sorwe!

3230 O Chauntecleer, acursed be that morwe

That thou into that yerd flaugh fro the bemes!

Thou were ful wel ywarned by thy dremes

That thilke day was perilous to thee;

But what that God forwoot moot nedes bee,

After the opinioun of certein clerkis.

Witnesse on hym that any parfit clerk is,

That in scole is greet altercacioun

In this mateere, and greet disputisoun,

And hath been of an hundred thousand men.

3240 But I ne kan nat bulte it to the bren

As kan the hooly doctour Augustyn,

Or Boece, or the Bisshop Bradwardyn,

Wheither that Goddes worthy forwityng

Streyneth me nedely for to doon a thyng --

"Nedely" clepe I symple necessitee --

Or elles, if free choys be graunted me

To do that same thyng, or do it noght,

Though God forwoot it er that I was wroght;

Or if his wityng streyneth never a deel

3250 But by necessitee condicioneel.

I wol nat han to do of swich mateere;

My tale is of a cok, as ye may heere,

That tok his conseil of his wyf, with sorwe,

To walken in the yerd upon that morwe

That he hadde met that dreem that I yow tolde.

Wommennes conseils been ful ofte colde;

Wommannes conseil broghte us first to wo

And made Adam fro Paradys to go,

Ther as he was ful myrie and wel at ese.

3260 But for I noot to whom it myght displese,

If I conseil of wommen wolde blame,

Passe over, for I seyde it in my game.

Rede auctours, where they trete of swich mateere,

And what they seyn of wommen ye may heere.

Thise been the cokkes wordes, and nat myne;

I kan noon harm of no womman divyne.

Faire in the soond, to bathe hire myrily,

Lith Pertelote, and alle hire sustres by,

Agayn the sonne, and Chauntecleer so free

3270 Soong murier than the mermayde in the see

(For Phisiologus seith sikerly

How that they syngen wel and myrily).

And so bifel that, as he caste his ye

Among the wortes on a boterflye,

He was war of this fox, that lay ful lowe.

Nothyng ne liste hym thanne for to crowe,

But cride anon, "Cok! cok!" and up he sterte

As man that was affrayed in his herte.

For natureelly a beest desireth flee

3280 Fro his contrarie, if he may it see,

Though he never erst hadde seyn it with his ye.

This Chauntecleer, whan he gan hym espye,

He wolde han fled, but that the fox anon

Seyde, "Gentil sire, allas, wher wol ye gon?

Be ye affrayed of me that am youre freend?

Now, certes, I were worse than a feend,

If I to yow wolde harm or vileynye!

I am nat come youre conseil for t' espye,

But trewely, the cause of my comynge

3290 Was oonly for to herkne how that ye synge.

For trewely, ye have as myrie a stevene

As any aungel hath that is in hevene.

Therwith ye han in musyk moore feelynge

Than hadde Boece, or any that kan synge.

My lord youre fader -- God his soule blesse! --

And eek youre mooder, of hire gentillesse,

Han in myn hous ybeen to my greet ese;

And certes, sire, ful fayn wolde I yow plese.

But, for men speke of syngyng, I wol seye --

3300 So moote I brouke wel myne eyen tweye --

Save yow, I herde nevere man so synge

As dide youre fader in the morwenynge.

Certes, it was of herte, al that he song.

And for to make his voys the moore strong,

He wolde so peyne hym that with bothe his yen

He moste wynke, so loude he wolde cryen,

And stonden on his tiptoon therwithal,

And strecche forth his nekke long and smal.

And eek he was of swich discrecioun

3310 That ther nas no man in no regioun

That hym in song or wisedom myghte passe.

I have wel rad in `Daun Burnel the Asse,'

Among his vers, how that ther was a cok,

For that a preestes sone yaf hym a knok

Upon his leg whil he was yong and nyce,

He made hym for to lese his benefice.

But certeyn, ther nys no comparisoun

Bitwixe the wisedom and discrecioun

Of youre fader and of his subtiltee.

3320 Now syngeth, sire, for seinte charitee;

Lat se; konne ye youre fader countrefete?"

This Chauntecleer his wynges gan to bete,

As man that koude his traysoun nat espie,

So was he ravysshed with his flaterie.

Allas, ye lordes, many a fals flatour

Is in youre courtes, and many a losengeour,

That plesen yow wel moore, by my feith,

Than he that soothfastnesse unto yow seith.

Redeth Ecclesiaste of flaterye;

3330 Beth war, ye lordes, of hir trecherye.

This Chauntecleer stood hye upon his toos,

Strecchynge his nekke, and heeld his eyen cloos,

And gan to crowe loude for the nones.

And daun Russell the fox stirte up atones,

And by the gargat hente Chauntecleer,

And on his bak toward the wode hym beer,

For yet ne was ther no man that hym sewed.

O destinee, that mayst nat been eschewed!

Allas, that Chauntecleer fleigh fro the bemes!

3340 Allas, his wyf ne roghte nat of dremes!

And on a Friday fil al this meschaunce.

O Venus, that art goddesse of plesaunce,

Syn that thy servant was this Chauntecleer,

And in thy servyce dide al his poweer,

Moore for delit than world to multiplye,

Why woldestow suffre hym on thy day to dye?

O Gaufred, deere maister soverayn,

That whan thy worthy kyng Richard was slayn

With shot, compleynedest his deeth so soore,

3350 Why ne hadde I now thy sentence and thy loore,

The Friday for to chide, as diden ye?

For on a Friday, soothly, slayn was he.

Thanne wolde I shewe yow how that I koude pleyne

For Chauntecleres drede and for his peyne.

Certes, swich cry ne lamentacion

Was nevere of ladyes maad whan Ylion

Was wonne, and Pirrus with his streite swerd,

Whan he hadde hent kyng Priam by the berd,

And slayn hym, as seith us Eneydos,

3360 As maden alle the hennes in the clos,

Whan they had seyn of Chauntecleer the sighte.

But sovereynly dame Pertelote shrighte

Ful louder than dide Hasdrubales wyf,

Whan that hir housbonde hadde lost his lyf

And that the Romayns hadde brend Cartage.

She was so ful of torment and of rage

That wilfully into the fyr she sterte

And brende hirselven with a stedefast herte.

O woful hennes, right so criden ye

3370 As whan that Nero brende the citee

Of Rome cryden senatoures wyves

For that hir husbondes losten alle hir lyves --

Withouten gilt this Nero hath hem slayn.

Now wole I turne to my tale agayn.

This sely wydwe and eek hir doghtres two

Herden thise hennes crie and maken wo,

And out at dores stirten they anon,

And syen the fox toward the grove gon,

And bar upon his bak the cok away,

3380 And cryden, "Out! Harrow and weylaway!

Ha, ha! The fox!" and after hym they ran,

And eek with staves many another man.

Ran Colle oure dogge, and Talbot and Gerland,

And Malkyn, with a dystaf in hir hand;

Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges,

So fered for the berkyng of the dogges

And shoutyng of the men and wommen eeke

They ronne so hem thoughte hir herte breeke.

They yolleden as feendes doon in helle;

3390 The dokes cryden as men wolde hem quelle;

The gees for feere flowen over the trees;

Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees.

So hydous was the noyse -- a, benedicitee! --

Certes, he Jakke Straw and his meynee

Ne made nevere shoutes half so shrille

Whan that they wolden any Flemyng kille,

As thilke day was maad upon the fox.

Of bras they broghten bemes, and of box,

Of horn, of boon, in whiche they blewe and powped,

3400 And therwithal they skriked and they howped.

It semed as that hevene sholde falle.

Now, goode men, I prey yow herkneth alle:

Lo, how Fortune turneth sodeynly

The hope and pryde eek of hir enemy!

This cok, that lay upon the foxes bak,

In al his drede unto the fox he spak,

And seyde, "Sire, if that I were as ye,

Yet sholde I seyn, as wys God helpe me,

`Turneth agayn, ye proude cherles alle!

3410 A verray pestilence upon yow falle!

Now I am come unto the wodes syde;

Maugree youre heed, the cok shal heere abyde.

I wol hym ete, in feith, and that anon!'"

The fox answerde, "In feith, it shal be don."

And as he spak that word, al sodeynly

This cok brak from his mouth delyverly,

And heighe upon a tree he fleigh anon.

And whan the fox saugh that the cok was gon,

"Allas!" quod he, "O Chauntecleer, allas!

3420 I have to yow," quod he, "ydoon trespas,

In as muche as I maked yow aferd

Whan I yow hente and broghte out of the yerd.

But, sire, I dide it in no wikke entente.

Com doun, and I shal telle yow what I mente;

I shal seye sooth to yow, God help me so!"

"Nay thanne," quod he, "I shrewe us bothe two.

And first I shrewe myself, bothe blood and bones,

If thou bigyle me ofter than ones.

Thou shalt namoore thurgh thy flaterye

3430 Do me to synge and wynke with myn ye;

For he that wynketh, whan he sholde see,

Al wilfully, God lat him nevere thee!"

"Nay," quod the fox, "but God yeve hym meschaunce,

That is so undiscreet of governaunce

That jangleth whan he sholde holde his pees."

Lo, swich it is for to be recchelees

And necligent, and truste on flaterye.

But ye that holden this tale a folye,

As of a fox, or of a cok and hen,

3440 Taketh the moralite, goode men.

For Seint Paul seith that al that writen is,

To oure doctrine it is ywrite, ywis;

Taketh the fruyt, and lat the chaf be stille.

Now, goode God, if that it be thy wille,

As seith my lord, so make us alle goode men,

And brynge us to his heighe blisse! Amen.

THE NUN'S PRIEST'S EPILOGUE

["Sire Nonnes Preest," oure Hooste seide anoon,

"I-blessed be thy breche, and every stoon!

This was a murie tale of Chauntecleer.

3450 But by my trouthe, if thou were seculer,

Thou woldest ben a trede-foul aright.

For if thou have corage as thou hast myght,

Thee were nede of hennes, as I wene,

Ya, moo than seven tymes seventene.

See, whiche braunes hath this gentil preest,

So gret a nekke, and swich a large breest!

He loketh as a sperhauk with his yen;

Him nedeth nat his colour for to dyen

With brasile ne with greyn of Portyngale.

3460 Now, sire, faire falle yow for youre tale!"

And after that he, with ful merie chere,

Seide unto another, as ye shuln heere.]

THE SECOND NUN'S PROLOGUE

The ministre and the norice unto vices,

Which that men clepe in Englissh Ydelnesse,

That porter of the gate is of delices,

To eschue, and by hire contrarie hire oppresse --

That is to seyn, by leveful bisynesse --

Wel oghten we to doon al oure entente,

Lest that the feend thurgh ydelnesse us hente.

For he that with his thousand cordes slye

Continuelly us waiteth to biclappe,

10 Whan he may man in ydelnesse espye,

He kan so lightly cache hym in his trappe,

Til that a man be hent right by the lappe,

He nys nat war the feend hath hym in honde.

Wel oghte us werche and ydelnesse withstonde.

And though men dradden nevere for to dye,

Yet seen men wel by resoun, doutelees,

That ydelnesse is roten slogardye,

Of which ther nevere comth no good n' encrees;

And syn that slouthe hire holdeth in a lees

20 Oonly to slepe, and for to ete and drynke,

And to devouren al that othere swynke,

And for to putte us fro swich ydelnesse,

That cause is of so greet confusioun,

I have heer doon my feithful bisynesse

After the legende in translacioun

Right of thy glorious lif and passioun,

Thou with thy gerland wroght with rose and lilie --

Thee meene I, mayde and martyr, Seint Cecilie.

And thow that flour of virgines art alle,

30 Of whom that Bernard list so wel to write,

To thee at my bigynnyng first I calle;

Thou confort of us wrecches, do me endite

Thy maydens deeth, that wan thurgh hire merite

The eterneel lyf and of the feend victorie,

As man may after reden in hire storie.

Thow Mayde and Mooder, doghter of thy Sone,

Thow welle of mercy, synful soules cure,

In whom that God for bountee chees to wone,

Thow humble, and heigh over every creature,

40 Thow nobledest so ferforth oure nature,

That no desdeyn the Makere hadde of kynde

His Sone in blood and flessh to clothe and wynde.

Withinne the cloistre blisful of thy sydis

Took mannes shap the eterneel love and pees,

That of the tryne compas lord and gyde is,

Whom erthe and see and hevene out of relees

Ay heryen; and thou, Virgine wemmelees,

Baar of thy body -- and dweltest mayden pure --

The Creatour of every creature.

50 Assembled is in thee magnificence

With mercy, goodnesse, and with swich pitee

That thou, that art the sonne of excellence

Nat oonly helpest hem that preyen thee,

But often tyme of thy benygnytee

Ful frely, er that men thyn help biseche,

Thou goost biforn and art hir lyves leche.

Now help, thow meeke and blisful faire mayde,

Me, flemed wrecche, in this desert of galle;

Thynk on the womman Cananee, that sayde

60 That whelpes eten somme of the crommes alle

That from hir lordes table been yfalle;

And though that I, unworthy sone of Eve,

Be synful, yet accepte my bileve.

And, for that feith is deed withouten werkis,

So for to werken yif me wit and space,

That I be quit fro thennes that most derk is!

O thou, that art so fair and ful of grace,

Be myn advocat in that heighe place

Theras withouten ende is songe "Osanne,"

70 Thow Cristes mooder, doghter deere of Anne!

And of thy light my soule in prison lighte,

That troubled is by the contagioun

Of my body, and also by the wighte

Of erthely lust and fals affeccioun;

O havene of refut, O salvacioun

Of hem that been in sorwe and in distresse,

Now help, for to my werk I wol me dresse.

Yet preye I yow that reden that I write,

Foryeve me that I do no diligence

80 This ilke storie subtilly to endite,

For bothe have I the wordes and sentence

Of hym that at the seintes reverence

The storie wroot, and folwen hire legende,

And pray yow that ye wole my werk amende.

First wolde I yow the name of Seint Cecilie

Expowne, as men may in hir storie see.

It is to seye in Englissh "hevenes lilie,"

For pure chaastnesse of virginitee;

Or, for she whitnesse hadde of honestee,

90 And grene of conscience, and of good fame

The soote savour, "lilie" was hir name.

Or Cecilie is to seye "the wey to blynde,"

For she ensample was by good techynge;

Or elles Cecile, as I writen fynde,

Is joyned, by a manere conjoynynge

Of "hevene" and "Lia"; and heere, in figurynge,

The "hevene" is set for thoght of hoolynesse,

And "Lia" for hire lastynge bisynesse.

Cecile may eek be seyd in this manere,

100 "Wantynge of blyndnesse," for hir grete light

Of sapience and for hire thewes cleere;

Or elles, loo, this maydens name bright

Of "hevene" and "leos" comth, for which by right

Men myghte hire wel "the hevene of peple" calle,

Ensample of goode and wise werkes alle.

For "leos" "peple" in Englissh is to seye,

And right as men may in the hevene see

The sonne and moone and sterres every weye,

Right so men goostly in this mayden free

110 Seyen of feith the magnanymytee,

And eek the cleernesse hool of sapience,

And sondry werkes, brighte of excellence.

And right so as thise philosophres write

That hevene is swift and round and eek brennynge,

Right so was faire Cecilie the white

Ful swift and bisy evere in good werkynge,

And round and hool in good perseverynge,

And brennynge evere in charite ful brighte.

Now have I yow declared what she highte.

THE SECOND NUN'S TALE

This mayden bright Cecilie, as hir lif seith,

Was comen of Romayns and of noble kynde,

And from hir cradel up fostred in the feith

Of Crist, and bar his gospel in hir mynde.

She nevere cessed, as I writen fynde,

Of hir preyere and God to love and drede,

Bisekynge hym to kepe hir maydenhede.

And whan this mayden sholde unto a man

Ywedded be, that was ful yong of age,

Which that ycleped was Valerian,

130 And day was comen of hir marriage,

She, ful devout and humble in hir corage,

Under hir robe of gold, that sat ful faire,

Hadde next hire flessh yclad hire in an haire.

And whil the organs maden melodie,

To God allone in herte thus sang she:

"O Lord, my soule and eek my body gye

Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be."

And for his love that dyde upon a tree

Every seconde and thridde day she faste,

140 Ay biddynge in hire orisons ful faste.

The nyght cam, and to bedde moste she gon

With hire housbonde, as ofte is the manere,

And pryvely to hym she seyde anon,

"O sweete and wel biloved spouse deere,

Ther is a conseil, and ye wolde it heere,

Which that right fayn I wolde unto yow seye,

So that ye swere ye shul it nat biwreye."

Valerian gan faste unto hire swere

That for no cas ne thyng that myghte be,

150 He sholde nevere mo biwreyen here;

And thanne at erst to hym thus seyde she:

"I have an aungel which that loveth me,

That with greet love, wher so I wake or sleepe,

Is redy ay my body for to kepe.

"And if that he may feelen, out of drede,

That ye me touche, or love in vileynye,

He right anon wol sle yow with the dede,

And in youre yowthe thus ye shullen dye;

And if that ye in clene love me gye,

160 He wol yow loven as me, for youre clennesse,

And shewen yow his joye and his brightnesse."

Valerian, corrected as God wolde,

Answerde agayn, "If I shal trusten thee,

Lat me that aungel se and hym biholde;

And if that it a verray angel bee,

Thanne wol I doon as thou hast prayed me;

And if thou love another man, for sothe

Right with this swerd thanne wol I sle yow bothe."

Cecile answerde anon-right in this wise:

170 "If that yow list, the angel shul ye see,

So that ye trowe on Crist and yow baptize.

Gooth forth to Via Apia," quod shee,

"That fro this toun ne stant but miles three,

And to the povre folkes that ther dwelle,

Sey hem right thus, as that I shal yow telle.

"Telle hem that I, Cecile, yow to hem sente

To shewen yow the goode Urban the olde,

For secree nedes and for good entente.

And whan that ye Seint Urban han biholde,

180 Telle hym the wordes whiche I to yow tolde;

And whan that he hath purged yow fro synne,

Thanne shul ye se that angel, er ye twynne."

Valerian is to the place ygon,

And right as hym was taught by his lernynge,

He foond this hooly olde Urban anon

Among the seintes buryeles lotynge.

And he anon withouten tariynge

Dide his message; and whan that he it tolde,

Urban for joye his handes gan up holde.

190 The teeris from his eyen leet he falle.

"Almyghty Lord, O Jhesu Crist," quod he,

"Sower of chaast conseil, hierde of us alle,

The fruyt of thilke seed of chastitee

That thou hast sowe in Cecile, taak to thee!

Lo, lyk a bisy bee, withouten gile,

Thee serveth ay thyn owene thral Cecile.

"For thilke spouse that she took but now

Ful lyk a fiers leoun, she sendeth heere,

As meke as evere was any lomb, to yow!"

200 And with that word anon ther gan appeere

An oold man, clad in white clothes cleere,

That hadde a book with lettre of gold in honde,

And gan bifore Valerian to stonde.

Valerian as deed fil doun for drede

Whan he hym saugh, and he up hente hym tho,

And on his book right thus he gan to rede:

"O Lord, o feith, o God, withouten mo,

O Cristendom, and Fader of alle also,

Aboven alle and over alle everywhere."

210 Thise wordes al with gold ywriten were.

Whan this was rad, thanne seyde this olde man,

"Leevestow this thyng or no? Sey ye or nay."

"I leeve al this thyng," quod Valerian,

"For sother thyng than this, I dar wel say,

Under the hevene no wight thynke may."

Tho vanysshed this olde man, he nyste where,

And Pope Urban hym cristned right there.

Valerian gooth hoom and fynt Cecilie

Withinne his chambre with an angel stonde.

220 This angel hadde of roses and of lilie

Corones two, the which he bar in honde;

And first to Cecile, as I understonde,

He yaf that oon, and after gan he take

That oother to Valerian, hir make.

"With body clene and with unwemmed thoght

Kepeth ay wel thise corones," quod he;

"Fro paradys to yow have I hem broght,

Ne nevere mo ne shal they roten bee,

Ne lese hir soote savour, trusteth me;

230 Ne nevere wight shal seen hem with his ye,

But he be chaast and hate vileynye.

"And thow, Valerian, for thow so soone

Assentedest to good conseil also,

Sey what thee list, and thou shalt han thy boone."

"I have a brother," quod Valerian tho,

"That in this world I love no man so.

I pray yow that my brother may han grace

To knowe the trouthe, as I do in this place."

The angel seyde, "God liketh thy requeste,

240 And bothe with the palm of martirdom

Ye shullen come unto his blisful feste."

And with that word Tiburce his brother coom.

And whan that he the savour undernoom,

Which that the roses and the lilies caste,

Withinne his herte he gan to wondre faste,

And seyde, "I wondre, this tyme of the yeer,

Whennes that soote savour cometh so

Of rose and lilies that I smelle heer.

For though I hadde hem in myne handes two,

250 The savour myghte in me no depper go.

The sweete smel that in myn herte I fynde

Hath chaunged me al in another kynde."

Valerian seyde: "Two corones han we,

Snow white and rose reed, that shynen cleere,

Whiche that thyne eyen han no myght to see;

And as thou smellest hem thurgh my preyere,

So shaltow seen hem, leeve brother deere,

If it so be thou wolt, withouten slouthe,

Bileve aright and knowen verray trouthe."

260 Tiburce answerde, "Seistow this to me

In soothnesse, or in dreem I herkne this?"

"In dremes," quod Valerian, "han we be

Unto this tyme, brother myn, ywis.

But now at erst in trouthe oure dwellyng is."

"How woostow this?" quod Tiburce, "and in what wyse?"

Quod Valerian, "That shal I thee devyse.

"The aungel of God hath me the trouthe ytaught

Which thou shalt seen, if that thou wolt reneye

The ydoles and be clene, and elles naught."

270 And of the myracle of thise corones tweye

Seint Ambrose in his preface list to seye;

Solempnely this noble doctour deere

Commendeth it, and seith in this manere:

"The palm of martirdom for to receyve,

Seinte Cecile, fulfild of Goddes yifte,

The world and eek hire chambre gan she weyve;

Witnesse Tyburces and [Valerians] shrifte,

To whiche God of his bountee wolde shifte

Corones two of floures wel smellynge,

280 And made his angel hem the corones brynge.

"The mayde hath broght thise men to blisse above;

The world hath wist what it is worth, certeyn,

Devocioun of chastitee to love."

Tho shewed hym Cecile al open and pleyn

That alle ydoles nys but a thyng in veyn,

For they been dombe, and therto they been deve,

And charged hym his ydoles for to leve.

"Whoso that troweth nat this, a beest he is,"

Quod tho Tiburce, "if that I shal nat lye."

290 And she gan kisse his brest, that herde this,

And was ful glad he koude trouthe espye.

"This day I take thee for myn allye,"

Seyde this blisful faire mayde deere,

And after that she seyde as ye may heere:

"Lo, right so as the love of Crist," quod she,

"Made me thy brotheres wyf, right in that wise

Anon for myn allye heer take I thee,

Syn that thou wolt thyne ydoles despise.

Go with thy brother now, and thee baptise,

300 And make thee clene, so that thou mowe biholde

The angels face of which thy brother tolde."

Tiburce answerde and seyde, "Brother deere,

First tel me whider I shal, and to what man?"

"To whom?" quod he, "com forth with right good cheere,

I wol thee lede unto the Pope Urban."

"Til Urban? Brother myn Valerian,"

Quod tho Tiburce, "woltow me thider lede?

Me thynketh that it were a wonder dede.

"Ne menestow nat Urban," quod he tho,

310 "That is so ofte dampned to be deed,

And woneth in halkes alwey to and fro,

And dar nat ones putte forth his heed?

Men sholde hym brennen in a fyr so reed

If he were founde, or that men myghte hym spye,

And we also, to bere hym compaignye;

"And whil we seken thilke divinitee

That is yhid in hevene pryvely,

Algate ybrend in this world shul we be!"

To whom Cecile answerde boldely,

320 "Men myghten dreden wel and skilfully

This lyf to lese, myn owene deere brother,

If this were lyvynge oonly and noon oother.

"But ther is bettre lif in oother place,

That nevere shal be lost, ne drede thee noght,

Which Goddes Sone us tolde thurgh his grace.

That Fadres Sone hath alle thyng ywroght,

And al that wroght is with a skilful thoght;

The Goost, that fro the Fader gan procede,

Hath sowled hem, withouten any drede.

330 "By word and by myracle heigh Goddes Sone,

Whan he was in this world, declared heere

That ther was oother lyf ther men may wone."

To whom answerde Tiburce, "O suster deere,

Ne seydestow right now in this manere,

Ther nys but o God, lord in soothfastnesse?

And now of three how maystow bere witnesse?"

"That shal I telle," quod she, "er I go.

Right as a man hath sapiences three --

Memorie, engyn, and intellect also --

340 So in o beynge of divinitee,

Thre persones may ther right wel bee."

Tho gan she hym ful bisily to preche

Of Cristes come, and of his peynes teche,

And manye pointes of his passioun;

How Goddes Sone in this world was withholde

To doon mankynde pleyn remissioun,

That was ybounde in synne and cares colde;

Al this thyng she unto Tiburce tolde.

And after this Tiburce in good entente

350 With Valerian to Pope Urban he wente,

That thanked God, and with glad herte and light

He cristned hym and made hym in that place

Parfit in his lernynge, Goddes knyght.

And after this Tiburce gat swich grace

That every day he saugh in tyme and space

The aungel of God; and every maner boone

That he God axed, it was sped ful soone.

It were ful hard by ordre for to seyn

How manye wondres Jhesus for hem wroghte;

360 But atte laste, to tellen short and pleyn,

The sergeantz of the toun of Rome hem soghte,

And hem biforn Almache, the prefect, broghte,

Which hem apposed, and knew al hire entente,

And to the ymage of Juppiter hem sente,

And seyde, "Whoso wol nat sacrifise,

Swape of his heed; this my sentence heer."

Anon thise martirs that I yow devyse,

Oon Maximus, that was an officer

Of the prefectes, and his corniculer,

370 Hem hente, and whan he forth the seintes ladde,

Hymself he weep for pitee that he hadde.

Whan Maximus had herd the seintes loore,

He gat hym of the tormentoures leve,

And ladde hem to his hous withoute moore,

And with hir prechyng, er that it were eve,

They gonnen fro the tormentours to reve,

And fro Maxime, and fro his folk echone,

The false feith, to trowe in God allone.

Cecile cam, whan it was woxen nyght,

380 With preestes that hem cristned alle yfeere;

And afterward, whan day was woxen light,

Cecile hem seyde with a ful stedefast cheere,

"Now, Cristes owene knyghtes leeve and deere,

Cast alle awey the werkes of derknesse,

And armeth yow in armure of brightnesse.

"Ye han for sothe ydoon a greet bataille,

Youre cours is doon, youre feith han ye conserved.

Gooth to the corone of lif that may nat faille;

The rightful Juge, which that ye han served,

390 Shal yeve it yow, as ye han it deserved."

And whan this thyng was seyd as I devyse,

Men ledde hem forth to doon the sacrefise.

But whan they weren to the place broght

To tellen shortly the conclusioun,

They nolde encense ne sacrifise right noght,

But on hir knees they setten hem adoun

With humble herte and sad devocioun,

And losten bothe hir hevedes in the place.

Hir soules wenten to the Kyng of grace.

400 This Maximus, that saugh this thyng bityde,

With pitous teeris tolde it anonright,

That he hir soules saugh to hevene glyde

With aungels ful of cleernesse and of light,

And with his word converted many a wight;

For which Almachius dide hym so bete

With whippe of leed til he his lif gan lete.

Cecile hym took and buryed hym anon

By Tiburce and Valerian softely

Withinne hire buriyng place, under the stoon;

410 And after this, Almachius hastily

Bad his ministres fecchen openly

Cecile, so that she myghte in his presence

Doon sacrifice and Juppiter encense.

But they, converted at hir wise loore,

Wepten ful soore, and yaven ful credence

Unto hire word, and cryden moore and moore,

"Crist, Goddes Sone, withouten difference,

Is verray God -- this is al oure sentence --

That hath so good a servant hym to serve.

420 This with o voys we trowen, thogh we sterve!"

Almachius, that herde of this doynge,

Bad fecchen Cecile, that he myghte hire see,

And alderfirst, lo, this was his axynge.

"What maner womman artow?" tho quod he.

"I am a gentil womman born," quod she.

"I axe thee," quod he, "though it thee greeve,

Of thy religioun and of thy bileeve."

"Ye han bigonne youre questioun folily,"

Quod she, "that wolden two answeres conclude

430 In o demande; ye axed lewedly."

Almache answerde unto that similitude,

"Of whennes comth thyn answeryng so rude?"

"Of whennes?" quod she, whan that she was freyned,

"Of conscience and of good feith unfeyned."

Almachius seyde, "Ne takestow noon heede

Of my power?" And she answerde hym this:

"Youre myght," quod she, "ful litel is to dreede,

For every mortal mannes power nys

But lyk a bladdre ful of wynd, ywys.

440 For with a nedles poynt, whan it is blowe,

May al the boost of it be leyd ful lowe."

"Ful wrongfully bigonne thow," quod he,

"And yet in wrong is thy perseveraunce.

Wostow nat how oure myghty princes free

Han thus comanded and maad ordinaunce

That every Cristen wight shal han penaunce

But if that he his Cristendom withseye,

And goon al quit, if he wole it reneye?"

"Yowre princes erren, as youre nobleye dooth,"

450 Quod tho Cecile, "and with a wood sentence

Ye make us gilty, and it is nat sooth.

For ye, that knowen wel oure innocence,

For as muche as we doon a reverence

To Crist, and for we bere a Cristen name,

Ye putte on us a cryme and eek a blame.

"But we that knowen thilke name so

For vertuous, we may it nat withseye."

Almache answerde, "Chees oon of thise two:

Do sacrifice, or Cristendom reneye,

460 That thou mowe now escapen by that weye."

At which the hooly blisful faire mayde

Gan for to laughe, and to the juge sayde:

"O juge, confus in thy nycetee,

Woltow that I reneye innocence,

To make me a wikked wight?" quod shee.

"Lo, he dissymuleth heere in audience;

He stareth, and woodeth in his advertence!"

To whom Almachius, "Unsely wrecche,

Ne woostow nat how fer my myght may strecche?

470 "Han noght oure myghty princes to me yiven,

Ye, bothe power and auctoritee

To maken folk to dyen or to lyven?

Why spekestow so proudly thanne to me?"

"I speke noght but stedfastly," quod she;

"Nat proudly, for I seye, as for my syde,

We haten deedly thilke vice of pryde.

"And if thou drede nat a sooth to heere,

Thanne wol I shewe al openly, by right,

That thou hast maad a ful gret lesyng heere.

480 Thou seyst thy princes han thee yeven myght

Bothe for to sleen and for to quyken a wight;

Thou, that ne mayst but oonly lyf bireve,

Thou hast noon oother power ne no leve.

"But thou mayst seyn thy princes han thee maked

Ministre of deeth; for if thou speke of mo,

Thou lyest, for thy power is ful naked."

"Do wey thy booldnesse," seyde Almachius tho,

"And sacrifice to oure goddes er thou go!

I recche nat what wrong that thou me profre,

490 For I kan suffre it as a philosophre;

"But thilke wronges may I nat endure

That thou spekest of oure goddes heere," quod he.

Cecile answerde, "O nyce creature!

Thou seydest no word syn thou spak to me

That I ne knew therwith thy nycetee

And that thou were in every maner wise

A lewed officer and a veyn justise.

"Ther lakketh no thyng to thyne outter yen

That thou n' art blynd; for thyng that we seen alle

500 That it is stoon -- that men may wel espyen --

That ilke stoon a god thow wolt it calle.

I rede thee, lat thyn hand upon it falle

And taste it wel, and stoon thou shalt it fynde,

Syn that thou seest nat with thyne eyen blynde.

"It is a shame that the peple shal

So scorne thee and laughe at thy folye,

For communly men woot it wel overal

That myghty God is in his hevenes hye;

And thise ymages, wel thou mayst espye,

510 To thee ne to hemself mowen noght profite,

For in effect they been nat worth a myte."

Thise wordes and swiche othere seyde she,

And he weex wroth, and bad men sholde hir lede

Hom til hir hous, and "In hire hous," quod he,

"Brenne hire right in a bath of flambes rede."

And as he bad, right so was doon the dede;

For in a bath they gonne hire faste shetten,

And nyght and day greet fyr they under betten.

The longe nyght, and eek a day also,

520 For al the fyr and eek the bathes heete

She sat al coold and feelede no wo.

It made hire nat a drope for to sweete.

But in that bath hir lyf she moste lete,

For he Almachius, with ful wikke entente,

To sleen hire in the bath his sonde sente.

Thre strokes in the nekke he smoot hire tho,

The tormentour, but for no maner chaunce

He myghte noght smyte al hir nekke atwo;

And for ther was that tyme an ordinaunce

530 That no man sholde doon man swich penaunce

The ferthe strook to smyten, softe or soore,

This tormentour ne dorste do namoore,

But half deed, with hir nekke ycorven there,

He lefte hir lye, and on his wey he went.

The Cristen folk, which that aboute hire were,

With sheetes han the blood ful faire yhent.

Thre dayes lyved she in this torment,

And nevere cessed hem the feith to teche

That she hadde fostred; hem she gan to preche,

540 And hem she yaf hir moebles and hir thyng,

And to the Pope Urban bitook hem tho,

And seyde, "I axed this of hevene kyng,

To han respit thre dayes and namo

To recomende to yow, er that I go,

Thise soules, lo, and that I myghte do werche

Heere of myn hous perpetuelly a cherche."

Seint Urban with his deknes prively

The body fette and buryed it by nyghte

Among his othere seintes honestly.

550 Hir hous the chirche of Seint Cecilie highte;

Seint Urban halwed it, as he wel myghte;

In which, into this day, in noble wyse,

Men doon to Crist and to his seint servyse.

THE CANON'S YEOMAN'S PROLOGUE

Whan ended was the lyf of Seinte Cecile,

Er we hadde riden fully fyve mile,

At Boghtoun under Blee us gan atake

A man that clothed was in clothes blake,

And undernethe he hadde a whyt surplys.

His hakeney, that was al pomely grys,

560 So swatte that it wonder was to see;

It semed as he had priked miles three.

The hors eek that his yeman rood upon

So swatte that unnethe myghte it gon.

Aboute the peytrel stood the foom ful hye;

He was of foom al flekked as a pye.

A male tweyfoold on his croper lay;

It semed that he caried lite array.

Al light for somer rood this worthy man,

And in myn herte wondren I bigan

570 What that he was til that I understood

How that his cloke was sowed to his hood,

For which, whan I hadde longe avysed me,

I demed hym som chanoun for to be.

His hat heeng at his bak doun by a laas,

For he hadde riden moore than trot or paas;

He hadde ay priked lik as he were wood.

A clote-leef he hadde under his hood

For swoot and for to keep his heed from heete.

But it was joye for to seen hym swete!

580 His forheed dropped as a stillatorie

Were ful of plantayne and of paritorie.

And whan that he was come, he gan to crye,

"God save," quod he, "this joly compaignye!

Faste have I priked," quod he, "for youre sake,

By cause that I wolde yow atake,

To riden in this myrie compaignye."

His yeman eek was ful of curteisye,

And seyde, "Sires, now in the morwe-tyde

Out of youre hostelrie I saugh yow ryde,

590 And warned heer my lord and my soverayn,

Which that to ryden with yow is ful fayn

For his desport; he loveth daliaunce."

"Freend, for thy warnyng God yeve thee good chaunce,"

Thanne seyde oure Hoost, "for certein it wolde seme

Thy lord were wys, and so I may wel deme.

He is ful jocunde also, dar I leye!

Can he oght telle a myrie tale or tweye,

With which he glade may this compaignye?"

"Who, sire? My lord? Ye, ye, withouten lye,

600 He kan of murthe and eek of jolitee

Nat but ynough; also, sire, trusteth me,

And ye hym knewe as wel as do I,

Ye wolde wondre how wel and craftily

He koude werke, and that in sondry wise.

He hath take on hym many a greet emprise,

Which were ful hard for any that is heere

To brynge aboute, but they of hym it leere.

As hoomly as he rit amonges yow,

If ye hym knewe, it wolde be for youre prow.

610 Ye wolde nat forgoon his aqueyntaunce

For muchel good, I dar leye in balaunce

Al that I have in my possessioun.

He is a man of heigh discrecioun;

I warne yow wel, he is a passyng man."

"Wel," quod oure Hoost, "I pray thee, tel me than,

Is he a clerk, or noon? Telle what he is."

"Nay, he is gretter than a clerk, ywis,"

Seyde this Yeman, "and in wordes fewe,

Hoost, of his craft somwhat I wol yow shewe.

620 "I seye, my lord kan swich subtilitee --

But al his craft ye may nat wite at me,

And somwhat helpe I yet to his wirkyng --

That al this ground on which we been ridyng,

Til that we come to Caunterbury toun,

He koude al clene turnen up-so-doun,

And pave it al of silver and of gold."

And whan this Yeman hadde this tale ytold

Unto oure Hoost, he seyde, "Benedicitee!

This thyng is wonder merveillous to me,

630 Syn that thy lord is of so heigh prudence,

By cause of which men sholde hym reverence,

That of his worshipe rekketh he so lite.

His overslope nys nat worth a myte,

As in effect, to hym, so moot I go,

It is al baudy and totore also.

Why is thy lord so sluttissh, I the preye,

And is of power bettre clooth to beye,

If that his dede accorde with thy speche?

Telle me that, and that I thee biseche."

640 "Why?" quod this Yeman, "wherto axe ye me?

God help me so, for he shal nevere thee!

(But I wol nat avowe that I seye,

And therfore keepe it secree, I yow preye.)

He is to wys, in feith, as I bileeve.

That that is overdoon, it wol nat preeve

Aright, as clerkes seyn; it is a vice.

Wherfore in that I holde hym lewed and nyce.

For whan a man hath over-greet a wit,

Ful oft hym happeth to mysusen it.

650 So dooth my lord, and that me greveth soore;

God it amende! I kan sey yow namoore."

"Ther-of no fors, good Yeman," quod oure Hoost;

"Syn of the konnyng of thy lord thow woost,

Telle how he dooth, I pray thee hertely,

Syn that he is so crafty and so sly.

Where dwelle ye, if it to telle be?"

"In the suburbes of a toun," quod he,

"Lurkynge in hernes and in lanes blynde,

Whereas thise robbours and thise theves by kynde

660 Holden hir pryvee fereful residence,

As they that dar nat shewen hir presence;

So faren we, if I shal seye the sothe."

"Now," quod oure Hoost, "yit lat me talke to the.

Why artow so discoloured of thy face?"

"Peter!" quod he, "God yeve it harde grace,

I am so used in the fyr to blowe

That it hath chaunged my colour, I trowe.

I am nat wont in no mirour to prie,

But swynke soore and lerne multiplie.

670 We blondren evere and pouren in the fir,

And for al that we faille of oure desir,

For evere we lakken oure conclusioun.

To muchel folk we doon illusioun,

And borwe gold, be it a pound or two,

Or ten, or twelve, or manye sommes mo,

And make hem wenen, at the leeste weye,

That of a pound we koude make tweye.

Yet is it fals, but ay we han good hope

It for to doon, and after it we grope.

680 But that science is so fer us biforn,

We mowen nat, although we hadden it sworn,

It overtake, it slit awey so faste.

It wole us maken beggers atte laste."

Whil this Yeman was thus in his talkyng,

This Chanoun drough hym neer and herde al thyng

Which this Yeman spak, for suspecioun

Of mennes speche evere hadde this Chanoun.

For Catoun seith that he that gilty is

Demeth alle thyng be spoke of hym, ywis.

690 That was the cause he gan so ny hym drawe

To his Yeman, to herknen al his sawe.

And thus he seyde unto his Yeman tho:

"Hoold thou thy pees and spek no wordes mo,

For if thou do, thou shalt it deere abye.

Thou sclaundrest me heere in this compaignye,

And eek discoverest that thou sholdest hyde."

"Ye," quod oure Hoost, "telle on, what so bityde.

Of al his thretyng rekke nat a myte!"

"In feith," quod he, "namoore I do but lyte."

700 And whan this Chanon saugh it wolde nat bee,

But his Yeman wolde telle his pryvetee,

He fledde awey for verray sorwe and shame.

"A!" quod the Yeman, "heere shal arise game;

Al that I kan anon now wol I telle.

Syn he is goon, the foule feend hym quelle!

For nevere heerafter wol I with hym meete

For peny ne for pound, I yow biheete.

He that me broghte first unto that game,

Er that he dye, sorwe have he and shame!

710 For it is ernest to me, by my feith;

That feele I wel, what so any man seith.

And yet, for al my smert and al my grief,

For al my sorwe, labour, and meschief,

I koude nevere leve it in no wise.

Now wolde God my wit myghte suffise

To tellen al that longeth to that art!

But nathelees yow wol I tellen part.

Syn that my lord is goon, I wol nat spare;

Swich thyng as that I knowe, I wol declare.

THE CANON'S YEOMAN'S TALE

With this Chanoun I dwelt have seven yeer,

And of his science am I never the neer.

Al that I hadde I have lost therby,

And, God woot, so hath many mo than I.

Ther I was wont to be right fressh and gay

Of clothyng and of oother good array,

Now may I were an hose upon myn heed;

And wher my colour was bothe fressh and reed,

Now is it wan and of a leden hewe --

Whoso it useth, soore shal he rewe! --

730 And of my swynk yet blered is myn ye.

Lo, which avantage is to multiplie!

That slidynge science hath me maad so bare

That I have no good, wher that evere I fare;

And yet I am endetted so therby

Of gold that I have borwed, trewely,

That whil I lyve I shal it quite nevere.

Lat every man be war by me for evere!

What maner man that casteth hym therto,

If he continue, I holde his thrift ydo.

740 For so helpe me God, therby shal he nat wynne,

But empte his purs and make his wittes thynne.

And whan he thurgh his madnesse and folye

Hath lost his owene good thurgh jupartye,

Thanne he exciteth oother folk therto,

To lesen hir good as he hymself hath do.

For unto shrewes joye it is and ese

To have hir felawes in peyne and disese.

Thus was I ones lerned of a clerk.

Of that no charge; I wol speke of oure werk.

750 Whan we been there as we shul exercise

Oure elvysshe craft, we semen wonder wise,

Oure termes been so clergial and so queynte.

I blowe the fir til that myn herte feynte.

What sholde I tellen ech proporcion

Of thynges whiche that we werche upon --

As on fyve or sixe ounces, may wel be,

Of silver, or som oother quantitee --

And bisye me to telle yow the names

Of orpyment, brent bones, iren squames,

760 That into poudre grounden been ful smal;

And in an erthen pot how put is al,

And salt yput in, and also papeer,

Biforn thise poudres that I speke of heer;

And wel ycovered with a lampe of glas;

And of muche oother thyng which that ther was;

And of the pot and glasses enlutyng

That of the eyr myghte passe out nothyng;

And of the esy fir, and smart also,

Which that was maad, and of the care and wo

770 That we hadde in oure matires sublymyng,

And in amalgamyng and calcenyng

Of quyksilver, yclept mercurie crude?

For alle oure sleightes we kan nat conclude.

Oure orpyment and sublymed mercurie,

Oure grounden litarge eek on the porfurie,

Of ech of thise of ounces a certeyn --

Noght helpeth us; oure labour is in veyn.

Ne eek oure spirites ascencioun,

Ne oure materes that lyen al fix adoun,

780 Mowe in oure werkyng no thyng us availle,

For lost is al oure labour and travaille;

And al the cost, a twenty devel waye,

Is lost also, which we upon it laye.

Ther is also ful many another thyng

That is unto oure craft apertenyng.

Though I by ordre hem nat reherce kan,

By cause that I am a lewed man,

Yet wol I telle hem as they come to mynde,

Thogh I ne kan nat sette hem in hir kynde:

790 As boole armonyak, verdegrees, boras,

And sondry vessels maad of erthe and glas,

Oure urynales and oure descensories,

Violes, crosletz, and sublymatories,

Cucurbites and alambikes eek,

And othere swiche, deere ynough a leek --

Nat nedeth it for to reherce hem alle --

Watres rubifiyng, and boles galle,

Arsenyk, sal armonyak, and brymstoon;

And herbes koude I telle eek many oon,

800 As egremoyne, valerian, and lunarie,

And othere swiche, if that me liste tarie;

Oure lampes brennyng bothe nyght and day,

To brynge aboute oure purpos, if we may;

Oure fourneys eek of calcinacioun,

And of watres albificacioun;

Unslekked lym, chalk, and gleyre of an ey,

Poudres diverse, asshes, donge, pisse, and cley,

Cered pokkets, sal peter, vitriole,

And diverse fires maad of wode and cole;

810 Sal tartre, alkaly, and sal preparat,

And combust materes and coagulat;

Cley maad with hors or mannes heer, and oille

Of tartre, alum glas, berme, wort, and argoille,

Resalgar, and oure materes enbibyng,

And eek of oure materes encorporyng,

And of oure silver citrinacioun,

Oure cementyng and fermentacioun,

Oure yngottes, testes, and many mo.

I wol yow telle, as was me taught also,

820 The foure spirites and the bodies sevene,

By ordre, as ofte I herde my lord hem nevene.

The firste spirit quyksilver called is,

The seconde orpyment, the thridde, ywis,

Sal armonyak, and the ferthe brymstoon.

The bodyes sevene eek, lo, hem heere anoon:

Sol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe,

Mars iren, Mercurie quyksilver we clepe,

Saturnus leed, and Juppiter is tyn,

And Venus coper, by my fader kyn!

830 This cursed craft whoso wole excercise,

He shal no good han that hym may suffise,

For al the good he spendeth theraboute

He lese shal; therof have I no doute.

Whoso that listeth outen his folie,

Lat hym come forth and lerne multiplie;

And every man that oght hath in his cofre,

Lat hym appiere and wexe a philosophre.

Ascaunce that craft is so light to leere?

Nay, nay, God woot, al be he monk or frere,

840 Preest or chanoun, or any oother wyght,

Though he sitte at his book bothe day and nyght

In lernyng of this elvysshe nyce loore,

Al is in veyn, and parde, muchel moore.

To lerne a lewed man this subtiltee --

Fy! Spek nat therof, for it wol nat bee.

And konne he letterure or konne he noon,

As in effect, he shal fynde it al oon.

For bothe two, by my savacioun,

Concluden in multiplicacioun

850 Ylike wel, whan they han al ydo;

This is to seyn, they faillen bothe two.

Yet forgat I to maken rehersaille

Of watres corosif, and of lymaille,

And of bodies mollificacioun,

And also of hire induracioun;

Oilles, ablucions, and metal fusible --

To tellen al wolde passen any bible

That owher is; wherfore, as for the beste,

Of alle thise names now wol I me reste,

860 For, as I trowe, I have yow toold ynowe

To reyse a feend, al looke he never so rowe.

A! Nay! Lat be; the philosophres stoon,

Elixer clept, we sechen faste echoon;

For hadde we hym, thanne were we siker ynow.

But unto God of hevene I make avow,

For al oure craft, whan we han al ydo,

And al oure sleighte, he wol nat come us to.

He hath ymaad us spenden muchel good,

For sorwe of which almoost we wexen wood,

870 But that good hope crepeth in oure herte,

Supposynge evere, though we sore smerte,

To be releeved by hym afterward.

Swich supposyng and hope is sharp and hard;

I warne yow wel, it is to seken evere.

That futur temps hath maad men to dissevere,

In trust therof, from al that evere they hadde.

Yet of that art they kan nat wexen sadde,

For unto hem it is a bitter sweete --

So semeth it -- for nadde they but a sheete

880 Which that they myghte wrappe hem inne a-nyght,

And a brat to walken inne by daylyght,

They wolde hem selle and spenden on this craft.

They kan nat stynte til no thyng be laft.

And everemoore, where that evere they goon,

Men may hem knowe by smel of brymstoon.

For al the world they stynken as a goot;

Hir savour is so rammyssh and so hoot

That though a man from hem a mile be,

The savour wole infecte hym, trusteth me.

890 Lo, thus by smellyng and threedbare array,

If that men liste, this folk they knowe may.

And if a man wole aske hem pryvely

Why they been clothed so unthriftily,

They right anon wol rownen in his ere,

And seyn that if that they espied were,

Men wolde hem slee by cause of hir science.

Lo, thus this folk bitrayen innocence!

Passe over this; I go my tale unto.

Er that the pot be on the fir ydo,

900 Of metals with a certeyn quantitee,

My lord hem tempreth, and no man but he --

Now he is goon, I dar seyn boldely --

For, as men seyn, he kan doon craftily.

Algate I woot wel he hath swich a name;

And yet ful ofte he renneth in a blame.

And wite ye how? Ful ofte it happeth so

The pot tobreketh, and farewel, al is go!

Thise metals been of so greet violence

Oure walles mowe nat make hem resistence,

910 But if they weren wroght of lym and stoon;

They percen so, and thurgh the wal they goon.

And somme of hem synken into the ground --

Thus han we lost by tymes many a pound --

And somme are scatered al the floor aboute;

Somme lepe into the roof. Withouten doute,

Though that the feend noght in oure sighte hym shewe,

I trowe he with us be, that ilke shrewe!

In helle, where that he is lord and sire,

Nis ther moore wo, ne moore rancour ne ire.

920 Whan that oure pot is broke, as I have sayd,

Every man chit and halt hym yvele apayd.

Somme seyde it was long on the fir makyng;

Somme seyde nay, it was on the blowyng --

Thanne was I fered, for that was myn office.

"Straw!" quod the thridde, "ye been lewed and nyce.

It was nat tempred as it oghte be."

"Nay," quod the fourthe, "stynt and herkne me.

By cause oure fir ne was nat maad of beech,

That is the cause and oother noon, so thee 'ch!"

930 I kan nat telle wheron it was long,

But wel I woot greet strif is us among.

"What," quod my lord, "ther is namoore to doone;

Of thise perils I wol be war eftsoone.

I am right siker that the pot was crased.

Be as be may, be ye no thyng amased;

As usage is, lat swepe the floor as swithe,

Plukke up youre hertes and beeth glad and blithe."

The mullok on an heep ysweped was,

And on the floor ycast a canevas,

940 And al this mullok in a syve ythrowe,

And sifted, and ypiked many a throwe.

"Pardee," quod oon, "somwhat of oure metal

Yet is ther heere, though that we han nat al.

And though this thyng myshapped have as now,

Another tyme it may be well ynow.

Us moste putte oure good in aventure.

A marchant, pardee, may nat ay endure,

Trusteth me wel, in his prosperitee.

Somtyme his good is drowned in the see,

950 And somtyme comth it sauf unto the londe."

"Pees!" quod my lord, "the nexte tyme I wol fonde

To bryngen oure craft al in another plite,

And but I do, sires, lat me han the wite.

Ther was defaute in somwhat, wel I woot."

Another seyde the fir was over-hoot --

But, be it hoot or coold, I dar seye this,

That we concluden everemoore amys.

We faille of that which that we wolden have,

And in oure madnesse everemoore we rave.

960 And whan we been togidres everichoon,

Every man semeth a Salomon.

But al thyng which that shineth as the gold

Nis nat gold, as that I have herd told;

Ne every appul that is fair at eye

Ne is nat good, what so men clappe or crye.

Right so, lo, fareth it amonges us:

He that semeth the wiseste, by Jhesus,

Is moost fool, whan it cometh to the preef;

And he that semeth trewest is a theef.

970 That shul ye knowe, er that I fro yow wende,

By that I of my tale have maad an ende.

Ther is a chanoun of religioun

Amonges us, wolde infecte al a toun,

Thogh it as greet were as was Nynyvee,

Rome, Alisaundre, Troye, and othere three.

His sleightes and his infinite falsnesse

Ther koude no man writen, as I gesse,

Though that he myghte lyve a thousand yeer.

In al this world of falshede nis his peer,

980 For in his termes he wol hym so wynde,

And speke his wordes in so sly a kynde,

Whanne he commune shal with any wight,

That he wol make hym doten anonright,

But it a feend be, as hymselven is.

Ful many a man hath he bigiled er this,

And wole, if that he lyve may a while;

And yet men ride and goon ful many a mile

Hym for to seke and have his aqueyntaunce,

Noght knowynge of his false governaunce.

990 And if yow list to yeve me audience,

I wol it tellen heere in youre presence.

But worshipful chanons religious,

Ne demeth nat that I sclaundre youre hous,

Although that my tale of a chanoun bee.

Of every ordre som shrewe is, pardee,

And God forbede that al a compaignye

Sholde rewe o singuleer mannes folye.

To sclaundre yow is no thyng myn entente,

But to correcten that is mys I mente.

1000 This tale was nat oonly toold for yow,

But eek for othere mo; ye woot wel how

That among Cristes apostelles twelve

Ther nas no traytour but Judas hymselve.

Thanne why sholde al the remenant have a blame

That giltlees were? By yow I seye the same,

Save oonly this, if ye wol herkne me:

If any Judas in youre covent be,

Remoeveth hym bitymes, I yow rede,

If shame or los may causen any drede.

1010 And beeth no thyng displesed, I yow preye,

But in this cas herkneth what I shal seye.

In Londoun was a preest, an annueleer,

That therinne dwelled hadde many a yeer,

Which was so plesaunt and so servysable

Unto the wyf, where as he was at table,

That she wolde suffre hym no thyng for to paye

For bord ne clothyng, wente he never so gaye,

And spendyng silver hadde he right ynow.

Therof no fors; I wol procede as now,

1020 And telle forth my tale of the chanoun

That broghte this preest to confusioun.

This false chanon cam upon a day

Unto this preestes chambre, wher he lay,

Bisechynge hym to lene hym a certeyn

Of gold, and he wolde quite it hym ageyn.

"Leene me a marc," quod he, "but dayes three,

And at my day I wol it quiten thee.

And if so be that thow me fynde fals,

Another day do hange me by the hals!"

1030 This preest hym took a marc, and that as swithe,

And this chanoun hym thanked ofte sithe,

And took his leve, and wente forth his weye,

And at the thridde day broghte his moneye,

And to the preest he took his gold agayn,

Wherof this preest was wonder glad and fayn.

"Certes," quod he, "no thyng anoyeth me

To lene a man a noble, or two, or thre,

Or what thyng were in my possessioun,

Whan he so trewe is of condicioun

1040 That in no wise he breke wole his day;

To swich a man I kan never seye nay."

"What!" quod this chanoun, "sholde I be untrewe?

Nay, that were thyng yfallen al of newe.

Trouthe is a thyng that I wol evere kepe

Unto that day in which that I shal crepe

Into my grave, and ellis God forbede.

Bileveth this as siker as your Crede.

God thanke I, and in good tyme be it sayd,

That ther was nevere man yet yvele apayd

1050 For gold ne silver that he to me lente,

Ne nevere falshede in myn herte I mente.

And sire," quod he, "now of my pryvetee,

Syn ye so goodlich han been unto me,

And kithed to me so greet gentillesse,

Somwhat to quyte with youre kyndenesse

I wol yow shewe, and if yow list to leere,

I wol yow teche pleynly the manere

How I kan werken in philosophie.

Taketh good heede; ye shul wel seen at ye

1060 That I wol doon a maistrie er I go."

"Ye," quod the preest, "ye, sire, and wol ye so?

Marie, therof I pray yow hertely."

"At youre comandement, sire, trewely,"

Quod the chanoun, "and ellis God forbeede!"

Loo, how this theef koude his service beede!

Ful sooth it is that swich profred servyse

Stynketh, as witnessen thise olde wyse,

And that ful soone I wol it verifie

In this chanoun, roote of al trecherie,

1070 That everemoore delit hath and gladnesse --

Swiche feendly thoghtes in his herte impresse --

How Cristes peple he may to meschief brynge.

God kepe us from his false dissymulynge!

Noght wiste this preest with whom that he delte,

Ne of his harm comynge he no thyng felte.

O sely preest! O sely innocent!

With coveitise anon thou shalt be blent!

O gracelees, ful blynd is thy conceite,

No thyng ne artow war of the deceite

1080 Which that this fox yshapen hath to thee!

His wily wrenches thou ne mayst nat flee.

Wherfore, to go to the conclusion,

That refereth to thy confusion,

Unhappy man, anon I wol me hye

To tellen thyn unwit and thy folye,

And eek the falsnesse of that oother wrecche,

As ferforth as that my konnyng wol strecche.

This chanon was my lord, ye wolden weene?

Sire hoost, in feith, and by the hevenes queene,

1090 It was another chanoun, and nat hee,

That kan an hundred foold moore subtiltee.

He hath bitrayed folkes many tyme;

Of his falsnesse it dulleth me to ryme.

Evere whan that I speke of his falshede,

For shame of hym my chekes wexen rede.

Algates they bigynnen for to glowe,

For reednesse have I noon, right wel I knowe,

In my visage; for fumes diverse

Of metals, whiche ye han herd me reherce,

1100 Consumed and wasted han my reednesse.

Now taak heede of this chanons cursednesse!

"Sire," quod he to the preest, "lat youre man gon

For quyksilver, that we it hadde anon;

And lat hym bryngen ounces two or three;

And whan he comth, as faste shal ye see

A wonder thyng, which ye saugh nevere er this."

"Sire," quod the preest, "it shal be doon, ywis."

He bad his servant fecchen hym this thyng,

And he al redy was at his biddyng,

1110 And wente hym forth, and cam anon agayn

With this quyksilver, shortly for to sayn,

And took thise ounces thre to the chanoun;

And he hem leyde faire and wel adoun,

And bad the servant coles for to brynge,

That he anon myghte go to his werkynge.

The coles right anon weren yfet,

And this chanoun took out a crosselet

Of his bosom, and shewed it to the preest.

"This instrument," quod he, "which that thou seest,

1120 Taak in thyn hand, and put thyself therinne

Of this quyksilver an ounce, and heer bigynne,

In name of Crist, to wexe a philosofre.

Ther been ful fewe to whiche I wolde profre

To shewen hem thus muche of my science.

For ye shul seen heer, by experience,

That this quyksilver I wol mortifye

Right in youre sighte anon, withouten lye,

And make it as good silver and as fyn

As ther is any in youre purs or myn,

1130 Or elleswhere, and make it malliable;

And elles holdeth me fals and unable

Amonges folk for evere to appeere.

I have a poudre heer, that coste me deere,

Shal make al good, for it is cause of al

My konnyng, which that I yow shewen shal.

Voyde youre man, and lat hym be theroute,

And shette the dore, whils we been aboute

Oure pryvetee, that no man us espie,

Whils that we werke in this philosophie."

1140 Al as he bad fulfilled was in dede.

This ilke servant anonright out yede,

And his maister shette the dore anon,

And to hire labour spedily they gon.

This preest, at this cursed chanons biddyng,

Upon the fir anon sette this thyng,

And blew the fir, and bisyed hym ful faste.

And this chanoun into the crosselet caste

A poudre, noot I wherof that it was

Ymaad, outher of chalk, outher of glas,

1150 Or somwhat elles, was nat worth a flye,

To blynde with this preest; and bad hym hye

The coles for to couchen al above

The crosselet. "For in tokenyng I thee love,"

Quod this chanoun, "thyne owene handes two

Shul werche al thyng which that shal heer be do."

"Graunt mercy," quod the preest, and was ful glad,

And couched coles as the chanoun bad.

And while he bisy was, this feendly wrecche,

This false chanoun -- the foule feend hym fecche! --

1160 Out of his bosom took a bechen cole,

In which ful subtilly was maad an hole,

And therinne put was of silver lemaille

An ounce, and stopped was, withouten faille,

This hole with wex, to kepe the lemaille in.

And understondeth that this false gyn

Was nat maad ther, but it was maad bifore;

And othere thynges I shal tellen moore

Herafterward, whiche that he with hym broghte.

Er he cam there, hym to bigile he thoghte,

1170 And so he dide, er that they wente atwynne;

Til he had terved hym, koude he nat blynne.

It dulleth me whan that I of hym speke.

On his falshede fayn wolde I me wreke,

If I wiste how, but he is heere and there;

He is so variaunt, he abit nowhere.

But taketh heede now, sires, for Goddes love!

He took his cole of which I spak above,

And in his hand he baar it pryvely.

And whiles the preest couched bisily

1180 The coles, as I tolde yow er this,

This chanoun seyde, "Freend, ye doon amys.

This is nat couched as it oghte be;

But soone I shal amenden it," quod he.

"Now lat me medle therwith but a while,

For of yow have I pitee, by Seint Gile!

Ye been right hoot; I se wel how ye swete.

Have heere a clooth, and wipe awey the wete."

And whiles that the preest wiped his face,

This chanoun took his cole -- with sory grace! --

1190 And leyde it above upon the myddeward

Of the crosselet, and blew wel afterward

Til that the coles gonne faste brenne.

"Now yeve us drynke," quod the chanoun thenne;

"As swithe al shal be wel, I undertake.

Sitte we doun, and lat us myrie make."

And whan that this chanounes bechen cole

Was brent, al the lemaille out of the hole

Into the crosselet fil anon adoun;

And so it moste nedes, by resoun,

1200 Syn it so evene above couched was.

But therof wiste the preest nothyng, alas!

He demed alle the coles yliche good,

For of that sleighte he nothyng understood.

And whan this alkamystre saugh his tyme,

"Ris up," quod he, "sire preest, and stondeth by me;

And for I woot wel ingot have ye noon,

Gooth, walketh forth, and bryngeth a chalk stoon;

For I wol make it of the same shap

That is an ingot, if I may han hap.

1210 And bryngeth eek with yow a bolle or a panne

Ful of water, and ye shul se wel thanne

How that oure bisynesse shal thryve and preeve.

And yet, for ye shul han no mysbileeve

Ne wrong conceite of me in youre absence,

I ne wol nat been out of youre presence,

But go with yow and come with yow ageyn."

The chambre dore, shortly for to seyn,

They opened and shette, and wente hir weye.

And forth with hem they carieden the keye,

1220 And coome agayn withouten any delay.

What sholde I tarien al the longe day?

He took the chalk and shoop it in the wise

Of an ingot, as I shal yow devyse.

I seye, he took out of his owene sleeve

A teyne of silver -- yvele moot he cheeve! --

Which that ne was nat but an ounce of weighte.

And taaketh heede now of his cursed sleighte!

He shoop his ingot in lengthe and in breede

Of this teyne, withouten any drede,

1230 So slyly that the preest it nat espide,

And in his sleve agayn he gan it hide,

And fro the fir he took up his mateere,

And in th' yngot putte it with myrie cheere,

And in the water-vessel he it caste,

Whan that hym luste, and bad the preest as faste,

"Loke what ther is; put in thyn hand and grope.

Thow fynde shalt ther silver, as I hope."

What, devel of helle, sholde it elles be?

Shaving of silver silver is, pardee!

1240 He putte his hand in and took up a teyne

Of silver fyn, and glad in every veyne

Was this preest, whan he saugh it was so.

"Goddes blessyng, and his moodres also,

And alle halwes, have ye, sire chanoun,"

Seyde the preest, "and I hir malisoun,

But, and ye vouche-sauf to techen me

This noble craft and this subtilitee,

I wol be youre in al that evere I may."

Quod the chanoun, "Yet wol I make assay

1250 The seconde tyme, that ye may taken heede

And been expert of this, and in youre neede

Another day assaye in myn absence

This disciplyne and this crafty science.

Lat take another ounce," quod he tho,

"Of quyksilver, withouten wordes mo,

And do therwith as ye han doon er this

With that oother, which that now silver is."

This preest hym bisieth in al that he kan

To doon as this chanoun, this cursed man,

1260 Comanded hym, and faste blew the fir,

For to come to th' effect of his desir.

And this chanon, right in the meene while,

Al redy was this preest eft to bigile,

And for a contenaunce in his hand he bar

An holwe stikke -- taak kep and be war! --

In the ende of which an ounce, and namoore,

Of silver lemaille put was, as bifore

Was in his cole, and stopped with wex weel

For to kepe in his lemaille every deel.

1270 And whil this preest was in his bisynesse,

This chanoun with his stikke gan hym dresse

To hym anon, and his poudre caste in

As he dide er -- the devel out of his skyn

Hym terve, I pray to God, for his falshede!

For he was evere fals in thoght and dede --

And with this stikke, above the crosselet,

That was ordeyned with that false jet,

He stired the coles til relente gan

The wex agayn the fir, as every man,

1280 But it a fool be, woot wel it moot nede,

And al that in the stikke was out yede,

And in the crosselet hastily it fel.

Now, good sires, what wol ye bet than wel?

Whan that this preest thus was bigiled ageyn,

Supposynge noght but treuthe, sooth to seyn,

He was so glad that I kan nat expresse

In no manere his myrthe and his gladnesse;

And to the chanoun he profred eftsoone

Body and good. "Ye," quod the chanoun soone,

1290 "Though poure I be, crafty thou shalt me fynde.

I warne thee, yet is ther moore bihynde.

Is ther any coper herinne?" seyde he.

"Ye," quod the preest, "sire, I trowe wel ther be."

"Elles go bye us som, and that as swithe;

Now, goode sire, go forth thy wey and hy the."

He wente his wey, and with the coper cam,

And this chanon it in his handes nam,

And of that coper weyed out but an ounce.

Al to symple is my tonge to pronounce,

1300 As ministre of my wit, the doublenesse

Of this chanoun, roote of alle cursednesse!

He semed freendly to hem that knewe hym noght,

But he was feendly bothe in werk and thoght.

It weerieth me to telle of his falsnesse,

And nathelees yet wol I it expresse,

To th' entente that men may be war therby,

And for noon oother cause, trewely.

He putte this ounce of coper in the crosselet,

And on the fir as swithe he hath it set,

1310 And caste in poudre, and made the preest to blowe,

And in his werkyng for to stoupe lowe,

As he dide er -- and al nas but a jape;

Right as hym liste, the preest he made his ape!

And afterward in the ingot he it caste,

And in the panne putte it at the laste

Of water, and in he putte his owene hand,

And in his sleve (as ye biforen-hand

Herde me telle) he hadde a silver teyne.

He slyly took it out, this cursed heyne,

1320 Unwityng this preest of his false craft,

And in the pannes botme he hath it laft;

And in the water rombled to and fro,

And wonder pryvely took up also

The coper teyne, noght knowynge this preest,

And hidde it, and hym hente by the breest,

And to hym spak, and thus seyde in his game:

"Stoupeth adoun. By God, ye be to blame!

Helpeth me now, as I dide yow whileer;

Putte in youre hand, and looketh what is theer."

1330 This preest took up this silver teyne anon,

And thanne seyde the chanoun, "Lat us gon

With thise thre teynes, whiche that we han wroght,

To som goldsmyth and wite if they been oght,

For, by my feith, I nolde, for myn hood,

But if that they were silver fyn and good,

And that as swithe preeved it shal bee."

Unto the goldsmyth with thise teynes three

They wente and putte thise teynes in assay

To fir and hamer; myghte no man seye nay,

1340 But that they weren as hem oghte be.

This sotted preest, who was gladder than he?

Was nevere brid gladder agayn the day,

Ne nyghtyngale, in the sesoun of May,

Was nevere noon that luste bet to synge;

Ne lady lustier in carolynge,

Or for to speke of love and wommanhede,

Ne knyght in armes to doon an hardy dede,

To stonden in grace of his lady deere,

Than hadde this preest this soory craft to leere.

1350 And to the chanoun thus he spak and seyde:

"For love of God, that for us alle deyde,

And as I may deserve it unto yow,

What shal this receite coste? Telleth now!"

"By oure Lady," quod this chanon, "it is deere,

I warne yow wel; for save I and a frere,

In Engelond ther kan no man it make."

"No fors," quod he, "now, sire, for Goddes sake,

What shal I paye? Telleth me, I preye."

"Ywis," quod he, "it is ful deere, I seye.

1360 Sire, at o word, if that thee list it have,

Ye shul paye fourty pound, so God me save!

And nere the freendshipe that ye dide er this

To me, ye sholde paye moore, ywis."

This preest the somme of fourty pound anon

Of nobles fette, and took hem everichon

To this chanoun for this ilke receite.

Al his werkyng nas but fraude and deceite.

"Sire preest," he seyde, "I kepe han no loos

Of my craft, for I wolde it kept were cloos;

1370 And, as ye love me, kepeth it secree.

For, and men knewen al my soutiltee,

By God, they wolden han so greet envye

To me by cause of my philosophye

I sholde be deed; ther were noon oother weye."

"God it forbeede," quod the preest, "what sey ye?

Yet hadde I levere spenden al the good

Which that I have, and elles wexe I wood,

Than that ye sholden falle in swich mescheef."

"For youre good wyl, sire, have ye right good preef,"

1380 Quod the chanoun, "and farwel, grant mercy!"

He wente his wey, and never the preest hym sy

After that day; and whan that this preest shoolde

Maken assay, at swich tyme as he wolde,

Of this receit, farwel! It wolde nat be.

Lo, thus byjaped and bigiled was he!

Thus maketh he his introduccioun,

To brynge folk to hir destruccioun.

Considereth, sires, how that, in ech estaat,

Bitwixe men and gold ther is debaat

1390 So ferforth that unnethes is ther noon.

This multiplying blent so many oon

That in good feith I trowe that it bee

The cause grettest of swich scarsetee.

Philosophres speken so mystily

In this craft that men kan nat come therby,

For any wit that men han now-a-dayes.

They mowe wel chiteren as doon jayes,

And in hir termes sette hir lust and peyne,

But to hir purpos shul they nevere atteyne.

1400 A man may lightly lerne, if he have aught,

To multiplie, and brynge his good to naught!

Lo! swich a lucre is in this lusty game,

A mannes myrthe it wol turne unto grame,

And empten also grete and hevye purses,

And maken folk for to purchacen curses

Of hem that han hir good therto ylent.

O, fy, for shame! They that han been brent,

Allas, kan they nat flee the fires heete?

Ye that it use, I rede ye it leete,

1410 Lest ye lese al; for bet than nevere is late.

Nevere to thryve were to long a date.

Though ye prolle ay, ye shul it nevere fynde.

Ye been as boold as is Bayard the blynde,

That blondreth forth and peril casteth noon.

He is as boold to renne agayn a stoon

As for to goon bisides in the weye.

So faren ye that multiplie, I seye.

If that youre eyen kan nat seen aright,

Looke that youre mynde lakke noght his sight.

1420 For though ye looken never so brode and stare,

Ye shul nothyng wynne on that chaffare,

But wasten al that ye may rape and renne.

Withdraweth the fir, lest it to faste brenne;

Medleth namoore with that art, I mene,

For if ye doon, youre thrift is goon ful clene.

And right as swithe I wol yow tellen heere

What philosophres seyn in this mateere.

Lo, thus seith Arnold of the Newe Toun,

As his Rosarie maketh mencioun;

1430 He seith right thus, withouten any lye:

"Ther may no man mercurie mortifie

But it be with his brother knowlechyng";

How [be] that he which that first seyde this thyng

Of philosophres fader was, Hermes;

He seith how that the dragon, doutelees,

Ne dyeth nat but if that he be slayn

With his brother; and that is for to sayn,

By the dragon, Mercurie, and noon oother

He understood, and brymstoon by his brother,

1440 That out of Sol and Luna were ydrawe.

"And therfore," seyde he -- taak heede to my sawe --

"Lat no man bisye hym this art for to seche,

But if that he th' entencioun and speche

Of philosophres understonde kan;

And if he do, he is a lewed man.

For this science and this konnyng," quod he,

"Is of the secree of the secretes, pardee."

Also ther was a disciple of Plato,

That on a tyme seyde his maister to,

1450 As his book Senior wol bere witnesse,

And this was his demande in soothfastnesse:

"Telle me the name of the privee stoon."

And Plato answerde unto hym anoon,

"Take the stoon that Titanos men name."

"Which is that?" quod he. "Magnasia is the same,"

Seyde Plato. "Ye, sire, and is it thus?

This is ignotum per ignocius.

What is Magnasia, good sire, I yow preye?"

"It is a water that is maad, I seye,

1460 Of elementes foure," quod Plato.

"Telle me the roote, good sire," quod he tho,

"Of that water, if it be youre wil."

"Nay, nay," quod Plato, "certein, that I nyl.

The philosophres sworn were everychoon

That they sholden discovere it unto noon,

Ne in no book it write in no manere.

For unto Crist it is so lief and deere

That he wol nat that it discovered bee,

But where it liketh to his deitee

1470 Men for t' enspire, and eek for to deffende

Whom that hym liketh; lo, this is the ende."

Thanne conclude I thus, sith that God of hevene

Ne wil nat that the philosophres nevene

How that a man shal come unto this stoon,

I rede, as for the beste, lete it goon.

For whoso maketh God his adversarie,

As for to werken any thyng in contrarie

Of his wil, certes, never shal he thryve,

Thogh that he multiplie terme of his lyve.

1480 And there a poynt, for ended is my tale.

God sende every trewe man boote of his bale!

THE MANCIPLE'S PROLOGUE

Woot ye nat where ther stant a litel toun

Which that ycleped is Bobbe-up-and-doun,

Under the Blee, in Caunterbury Weye?

Ther gan oure Hooste for to jape and pleye,

And seyde, "Sires, what! Dun is in the myre!

Is ther no man, for preyere ne for hyre,

That wole awake oure felawe al bihynde?

A theef myghte hym ful lightly robbe and bynde.

See how he nappeth! See how, for cokkes bones,

10 That he wol falle fro his hors atones!

Is that a cook of Londoun, with meschaunce?

Do hym come forth, he knoweth his penaunce;

For he shal telle a tale, by my fey,

Although it be nat worth a botel hey.

Awake, thou Cook," quod he, "God yeve thee sorwe!

What eyleth thee to slepe by the morwe?

Hastow had fleen al nyght, or artow dronke?

Or hastow with som quene al nyght yswonke,

So that thow mayst nat holden up thyn heed?"

20 This Cook, that was ful pale and no thyng reed,

Seyde to oure Hoost, "So God my soule blesse,

As ther is falle on me swich hevynesse,

Noot I nat why, that me were levere slepe

Than the beste galon wyn in Chepe."

"Wel," quod the Maunciple, "if it may doon ese

To thee, sire Cook, and to no wight displese,

Which that heere rideth in this compaignye,

And that oure Hoost wole, of his curteisye,

I wol as now excuse thee of thy tale.

30 For, in good feith, thy visage is ful pale,

Thyne eyen daswen eek, as that me thynketh,

And, wel I woot, thy breeth ful soure stynketh:

That sheweth wel thou art nat wel disposed.

Of me, certeyn, thou shalt nat been yglosed.

See how he ganeth, lo, this dronken wight,

As though he wolde swolwe us anonright.

Hoold cloos thy mouth, man, by thy fader kyn!

The devel of helle sette his foot therin!

Thy cursed breeth infecte wole us alle.

40 Fy, stynkyng swyn! Fy, foule moote thee falle!

A, taketh heede, sires, of this lusty man.

Now, sweete sire, wol ye justen atte fan?

Therto me thynketh ye been wel yshape!

I trowe that ye dronken han wyn ape,

And that is whan men pleyen with a straw."

And with this speche the Cook wax wrooth and wraw,

And on the Manciple he gan nodde faste

For lakke of speche, and doun the hors hym caste,

Where as he lay, til that men hym up took.

50 This was a fair chyvachee of a cook!

Allas, he nadde holde hym by his ladel!

And er that he agayn were in his sadel,

Ther was greet showvyng bothe to and fro

To lifte hym up, and muchel care and wo,

So unweeldy was this sory palled goost.

And to the Manciple thanne spak oure Hoost:

"By cause drynke hath dominacioun

Upon this man, by my savacioun,

I trowe he lewedly wolde telle his tale.

60 For, were it wyn or oold or moysty ale

That he hath dronke, he speketh in his nose,

And fneseth faste, and eek he hath the pose.

"He hath also to do moore than ynough

To kepen hym and his capul out of the slough;

And if he falle from his capul eftsoone,

Thanne shal we alle have ynogh to doone

In liftyng up his hevy dronken cors.

Telle on thy tale; of hym make I no fors.

"But yet, Manciple, in feith thou art to nyce,

70 Thus openly repreve hym of his vice.

Another day he wole, peraventure,

Reclayme thee and brynge thee to lure;

I meene, he speke wole of smale thynges,

As for to pynchen at thy rekenynges,

That were nat honest, if it cam to preef."

"No," quod the Manciple, "that were a greet mescheef!

So myghte he lightly brynge me in the snare.

Yet hadde I levere payen for the mare

Which he rit on, than he sholde with me stryve.

80 I wol nat wratthen hym, also moot I thryve!

That that I spak, I seyde it in my bourde.

And wite ye what? I have heer in a gourde

A draghte of wyn, ye, of a ripe grape,

And right anon ye shul seen a good jape.

This Cook shal drynke therof, if I may.

Up peyne of deeth, he wol nat seye me nay."

And certeynly, to tellen as it was,

Of this vessel the Cook drank faste, allas!

What neded hym? He drank ynough biforn.

90 And whan he hadde pouped in this horn,

To the Manciple he took the gourde agayn;

And of that drynke the Cook was wonder fayn,

And thanked hym in swich wise as he koude.

Thanne gan oure Hoost to laughen wonder loude,

And seyde, "I se wel it is necessarie,

Where that we goon, good drynke with us carie;

For that wol turne rancour and disese

T' acord and love, and many a wrong apese.

"O Bacus, yblessed be thy name,

100 That so kanst turnen ernest into game!

Worshipe and thank be to thy deitee!

Of that mateere ye gete namoore of me.

Telle on thy tale, Manciple, I thee preye."

"Wel, sire," quod he, "now herkneth what I seye.

THE MANCIPLE'S TALE

Whan Phebus dwelled heere in this erthe adoun,

As olde bookes maken mencioun,

He was the mooste lusty bachiler

In al this world, and eek the beste archer.

He slow Phitoun, the serpent, as he lay

110 Slepynge agayn the sonne upon a day;

And many another noble worthy dede

He with his bowe wroghte, as men may rede.

Pleyen he koude on every mynstralcie,

And syngen that it was a melodie

To heeren of his cleere voys the soun.

Certes the kyng of Thebes, Amphioun,

That with his syngyng walled that citee,

Koude nevere syngen half so wel as hee.

Therto he was the semelieste man

120 That is or was sith that the world bigan.

What nedeth it his fetures to discryve?

For in this world was noon so faire on-lyve.

He was therwith fulfild of gentillesse,

Of honour, and of parfit worthynesse.

This Phebus, that was flour of bachilrie,

As wel in fredom as in chivalrie,

For his desport, in signe eek of victorie

Of Phitoun, so as telleth us the storie,

Was wont to beren in his hand a bowe.

130 Now hadde this Phebus in his hous a crowe

Which in a cage he fostred many a day,

And taughte it speken, as men teche a jay.

Whit was this crowe as is a snow-whit swan,

And countrefete the speche of every man

He koude, whan he sholde telle a tale.

Therwith in al this world no nyghtyngale

Ne koude, by an hondred thousand deel,

Syngen so wonder myrily and weel.

Now hadde this Phebus in his hous a wyf

140 Which that he lovede moore than his lyf,

And nyght and day dide evere his diligence

Hir for to plese and doon hire reverence,

Save oonly, if the sothe that I shal sayn,

Jalous he was, and wolde have kept hire fayn.

For hym were looth byjaped for to be,

And so is every wight in swich degree;

But al in ydel, for it availleth noght.

A good wyf, that is clene of werk and thoght,

Sholde nat been kept in noon awayt, certayn;

150 And trewely the labour is in vayn

To kepe a shrewe, for it wol nat bee.

This holde I for a verray nycetee,

To spille labour for to kepe wyves:

Thus writen olde clerkes in hir lyves.

But now to purpos, as I first bigan:

This worthy Phebus dooth al that he kan

To plesen hire, wenynge for swich plesaunce,

And for his manhede and his governaunce,

That no man sholde han put hym from hir grace.

160 But God it woot, ther may no man embrace

As to destreyne a thyng which that nature

Hath natureelly set in a creature.

Taak any bryd, and put it in a cage,

And do al thyn entente and thy corage

To fostre it tendrely with mete and drynke

Of alle deyntees that thou kanst bithynke,

And keep it al so clenly as thou may,

Although his cage of gold be never so gay,

Yet hath this brid, by twenty thousand foold,

170 Levere in a forest that is rude and coold

Goon ete wormes and swich wrecchednesse.

For evere this brid wol doon his bisynesse

To escape out of his cage, yif he may.

His libertee this brid desireth ay.

Lat take a cat, and fostre hym wel with milk

And tendre flessh, and make his couche of silk,

And lat hym seen a mous go by the wal,

Anon he weyveth milk and flessh and al,

And every deyntee that is in that hous,

180 Swich appetit hath he to ete a mous.

Lo, heere hath lust his dominacioun,

And appetit fleemeth discrecioun.

A she-wolf hath also a vileyns kynde.

The lewedeste wolf that she may fynde,

Or leest of reputacioun, wol she take,

In tyme whan hir lust to han a make.

Alle thise ensamples speke I by thise men

That been untrewe, and nothyng by wommen.

For men han evere a likerous appetit

190 On lower thyng to parfourne hire delit

Than on hire wyves, be they never so faire,

Ne never so trewe, ne so debonaire.

Flessh is so newefangel, with meschaunce,

That we ne konne in nothyng han plesaunce

That sowneth into vertu any while.

This Phebus, which that thoghte upon no gile,

Deceyved was, for al his jolitee.

For under hym another hadde shee,

A man of litel reputacioun,

200 Nat worth to Phebus in comparisoun.

The moore harm is, it happeth ofte so,

Of which ther cometh muchel harm and wo.

And so bifel, whan Phebus was absent,

His wyf anon hath for hir lemman sent.

Hir lemman? Certes, this is a knavyssh speche!

Foryeveth it me, and that I yow biseche.

The wise Plato seith, as ye may rede,

The word moot nede accorde with the dede.

If men shal telle proprely a thyng,

210 The word moot cosyn be to the werkyng.

I am a boystous man, right thus seye I:

Ther nys no difference, trewely,

Bitwixe a wyf that is of heigh degree,

If of hir body dishonest she bee,

And a povre wenche, oother than this --

If it so be they werke bothe amys --

But that the gentile, in estaat above,

She shal be cleped his lady, as in love;

And for that oother is a povre womman,

220 She shal be cleped his wenche or his lemman.

And, God it woot, myn owene deere brother,

Men leyn that oon as lowe as lith that oother.

Right so bitwixe a titlelees tiraunt

And an outlawe or a theef erraunt,

The same I seye: ther is no difference.

To Alisaundre was toold this sentence,

That, for the tirant is of gretter myght

By force of meynee for to sleen dounright,

And brennen hous and hoom, and make al playn,

230 Lo, therfore is he cleped a capitayn;

And for the outlawe hath but smal meynee,

And may nat doon so greet an harm as he,

Ne brynge a contree to so greet mescheef,

Men clepen hym an outlawe or a theef.

But for I am a man noght textueel,

I wol noght telle of textes never a deel;

I wol go to my tale, as I bigan.

Whan Phebus wyf had sent for hir lemman,

Anon they wroghten al hire lust volage.

240 The white crowe, that heeng ay in the cage,

Biheeld hire werk, and seyde never a word.

And whan that hoom was come Phebus, the lord,

This crowe sang "Cokkow! Cokkow! Cokkow!"

"What, bryd?" quod Phebus. "What song syngestow?

Ne were thow wont so myrily to synge

That to myn herte it was a rejoysynge

To heere thy voys? Allas, what song is this?"

"By God," quod he, "I synge nat amys.

Phebus," quod he, "for al thy worthynesse,

250 For al thy beautee and thy gentilesse,

For al thy song and al thy mynstralcye,

For al thy waityng, blered is thyn ye

With oon of litel reputacioun,

Noght worth to thee, as in comparisoun,

The montance of a gnat, so moote I thryve!

For on thy bed thy wyf I saugh hym swyve."

What wol ye moore? The crowe anon hym tolde,

By sadde tokenes and by wordes bolde,

How that his wyf had doon hire lecherye,

260 Hym to greet shame and to greet vileynye,

And tolde hym ofte he saugh it with his yen.

This Phebus gan aweyward for to wryen,

And thoughte his sorweful herte brast atwo.

His bowe he bente, and sette therinne a flo,

And in his ire his wyf thanne hath he slayn.

This is th' effect; ther is namoore to sayn;

For sorwe of which he brak his mynstralcie,

Bothe harpe, and lute, and gyterne, and sautrie;

And eek he brak his arwes and his bowe,

270 And after that thus spak he to the crowe:

"Traitour," quod he, "with tonge of scorpioun,

Thou hast me broght to my confusioun;

Allas, that I was wroght! Why nere I deed?

O deere wyf! O gemme of lustiheed!

That were to me so sad and eek so trewe,

Now listow deed, with face pale of hewe,

Ful giltelees, that dorste I swere, ywys!

O rakel hand, to doon so foule amys!

O trouble wit, O ire recchelees,

280 That unavysed smyteth gilteles!

O wantrust, ful of fals suspecion,

Where was thy wit and thy discrecion?

O every man, be war of rakelnesse!

Ne trowe no thyng withouten strong witnesse.

Smyt nat to soone, er that ye witen why,

And beeth avysed wel and sobrely

Er ye doon any execucion

Upon youre ire for suspecion.

Allas, a thousand folk hath rakel ire

290 Fully fordoon, and broght hem in the mire.

Allas! For sorwe I wol myselven slee!"

And to the crowe, "O false theef!" seyde he,

"I wol thee quite anon thy false tale.

Thou songe whilom lyk a nyghtyngale;

Now shaltow, false theef, thy song forgon,

And eek thy white fetheres everichon,

Ne nevere in al thy lif ne shaltou speke.

Thus shal men on a traytour been awreke;

Thou and thyn ofspryng evere shul be blake,

300 Ne nevere sweete noyse shul ye make,

But evere crie agayn tempest and rayn,

In tokenynge that thurgh thee my wyf is slayn."

And to the crowe he stirte, and that anon,

And pulled his white fetheres everychon,

And made hym blak, and refte hym al his song,

And eek his speche, and out at dore hym slong

Unto the devel, which I hym bitake;

And for this caas been alle crowes blake.

Lordynges, by this ensample I yow preye,

310 Beth war, and taketh kep what that ye seye:

Ne telleth nevere no man in youre lyf

How that another man hath dight his wyf;

He wol yow haten mortally, certeyn.

Daun Salomon, as wise clerkes seyn,

Techeth a man to kepen his tonge weel.

But, as I seyde, I am noght textueel.

But nathelees, thus taughte me my dame:

"My sone, thenk on the crowe, a Goddes name!

My sone, keep wel thy tonge, and keep thy freend.

320 A wikked tonge is worse than a feend;

My sone, from a feend men may hem blesse.

My sone, God of his endelees goodnesse

Walled a tonge with teeth and lippes eke,

For man sholde hym avyse what he speeke.

My sone, ful ofte, for to muche speche

Hath many a man been spilt, as clerkes teche,

But for litel speche avysely

Is no man shent, to speke generally.

My sone, thy tonge sholdestow restreyne

330 At alle tymes, but whan thou doost thy peyne

To speke of God, in honour and preyere.

The firste vertu, sone, if thou wolt leere,

Is to restreyne and kepe wel thy tonge;

Thus lerne children whan that they been yonge.

My sone, of muchel spekyng yvele avysed,

Ther lasse spekyng hadde ynough suffised,

Comth muchel harm; thus was me toold and taught.

In muchel speche synne wanteth naught.

Wostow wherof a rakel tonge serveth?

340 Right as a swerd forkutteth and forkerveth

An arm a-two, my deere sone, right so

A tonge kutteth freendshipe al a-two.

A jangler is to God abhomynable.

Reed Salomon, so wys and honurable;

Reed David in his psalmes; reed Senekke.

My sone, spek nat, but with thyn heed thou bekke.

Dissimule as thou were deef, if that thou heere

A janglere speke of perilous mateere.

The Flemyng seith, and lerne it if thee leste,

350 That litel janglyng causeth muchel reste.

My sone, if thou no wikked word hast seyd,

Thee thar nat drede for to be biwreyd;

But he that hath mysseyd, I dar wel sayn,

He may by no wey clepe his word agayn.

Thyng that is seyd is seyd, and forth it gooth,

Though hym repente, or be hym nevere so looth.

He is his thral to whom that he hath sayd

A tale of which he is now yvele apayd.

My sone, be war, and be noon auctour newe

360 Of tidynges, wheither they been false or trewe.

Whereso thou come, amonges hye or lowe,

Kepe wel thy tonge and thenk upon the crowe."

THE PARSON'S PROLOGUE

By that the Maunciple hadde his tale al ended,

The sonne fro the south lyne was descended

So lowe that he nas nat, to my sighte,

Degrees nyne and twenty as in highte.

Foure of the clokke it was tho, as I gesse,

For ellevene foot, or litel moore or lesse,

My shadwe was at thilke tyme, as there

Of swiche feet as my lengthe parted were

In sixe feet equal of proporcioun.

10 Therwith the moones exaltacioun --

I meene Libra -- alwey gan ascende

As we were entryng at a thropes ende;

For which oure Hoost, as he was wont to gye,

As in this caas, oure joly compaignye,

Seyde in this wise: "Lordynges everichoon,

Now lakketh us no tales mo than oon.

Fulfilled is my sentence and my decree;

I trowe that we han herd of ech degree;

Almoost fulfild is al myn ordinaunce.

20 I pray to God, so yeve hym right good chaunce,

That telleth this tale to us lustily.

"Sire preest," quod he, "artow a vicary?

Or arte a person? Sey sooth, by thy fey!

Be what thou be, ne breke thou nat oure pley;

For every man, save thou, hath toold his tale.

Unbokele and shewe us what is in thy male;

For trewely, me thynketh by thy cheere

Thou sholdest knytte up wel a greet mateere.

Telle us a fable anon, for cokkes bones!"

30 This Persoun answerde, al atones,

"Thou getest fable noon ytoold for me,

For Paul, that writeth unto Thymothee,

Repreveth hem that weyven soothfastnesse

And tellen fables and swich wrecchednesse.

Why sholde I sowen draf out of my fest,

Whan I may sowen whete, if that me lest?

For which I seye, if that yow list to heere

Moralitee and vertuous mateere,

And thanne that ye wol yeve me audience,

40 I wol ful fayn, at Cristes reverence,

Do yow plesaunce leefful, as I kan.

But trusteth wel, I am a Southren man;

I kan nat geeste `rum, ram, ruf,' by lettre,

Ne, God woot, rym holde I but litel bettre;

And therfore, if yow list -- I wol nat glose --

I wol yow telle a myrie tale in prose

To knytte up al this feeste and make an ende.

And Jhesu, for his grace, wit me sende

To shewe yow the wey, in this viage,

50 Of thilke parfit glorious pilgrymage

That highte Jerusalem celestial.

And if ye vouche sauf, anon I shal

Bigynne upon my tale, for which I preye

Telle youre avys; I kan no bettre seye.

"But nathelees, this meditacioun

I putte it ay under correccioun

Of clerkes, for I am nat textueel;

I take but the sentence, trusteth weel.

Therfore I make protestacioun

60 That I wol stonde to correccioun."

Upon this word we han assented soone,

For, as it seemed, it was for to doone --

To enden in som vertuous sentence,

And for to yeve hym space and audience,

And bade oure Hoost he sholde to hym seye

That alle we to telle his tale hym preye.

Oure Hoost hadde the wordes for us alle;

"Sire preest," quod he, "now faire yow bifalle!

Telleth," quod he, "youre meditacioun.

70 But hasteth yow; the sonne wole adoun;

Beth fructuous, and that in litel space,

And to do wel God sende yow his grace!

Sey what yow list, and we wol gladly heere."

And with that word he seyde in this manere.

THE PARSON'S TALE

Oure sweete Lord God of hevene, that no man wole perisse but wole that

we comen alle to the knoweleche of hym and to the blisful lif that is perdurable,

amonesteth us by the prophete Jeremie, that seith in thys wyse:

"Stondeth upon the weyes, and seeth and axeth of olde pathes (that is to seyn, of olde sentences) which is the goode wey,

and walketh in that wey, and ye shal fynde refresshynge for youre soules, etc."

Manye been the weyes espirituels that leden folk to oure Lord Jhesu Crist and to the regne of glorie.

80 Of whiche weyes ther is a ful noble wey and a ful covenable, which may nat fayle to man ne to womman

80A that thurgh synne hath mysgoon fro the righte wey of Jerusalem celestial;

and this wey is cleped Penitence, of which man sholde gladly herknen and enquere with al his herte

to wyten what is Penitence, and whennes it is cleped Penitence, and in how manye maneres been the acciouns or werkynges of Penitence,

and how manye speces ther been of Penitence, and whiche thynges apertenen and bihoven to Penitence, and whiche thynges destourben Penitence.

Seint Ambrose seith that Penitence is the pleynynge of man for the gilt that he hath doon,

and namoore to do any thyng for which hym oghte to pleyne.

And som doctour seith, "Penitence is the waymentynge of man that sorweth for his synne and pyneth hymself for he hath mysdoon."

Penitence, with certeyne circumstances, is verray repentance of a man that halt hymself in sorwe and oother peyne for his giltes.

And for he shal be verray penitent, he shal first biwaylen the synnes that he hath doon,

and stidefastly purposen in his herte to have shrift of mouthe, and to doon satisfaccioun,

and nevere to doon thyng for which hym oghte moore to biwayle

or to compleyne, and to continue in goode werkes, or elles his repentance may nat availle.

For, as seith Seint Ysidre,

"He is a japere and a gabbere and no verray repentant that eftsoone dooth thyng for which hym oghte repente."

90 Wepynge, and nat for to stynte to do synne, may nat avayle.

But nathelees, men shal hope that every tyme that man falleth, be it never so ofte,

that he may arise thurgh Penitence, if he have grace; but certeinly it is greet doute.

For, as seith Seint Gregorie, "Unnethe ariseth he out of his synne, that is charged with the charge of yvel usage."

And therfore repentant folk, that stynte for to synne and forlete synne er that synne forlete hem,

hooly chirche holdeth hem siker of hire savacioun.

And he that synneth and verraily repenteth hym in his laste, hooly chirche yet hopeth his savacioun,

by the grete mercy of oure Lord Jhesu Crist, for his repentaunce; but taak the siker wey.

And now, sith I have declared yow what thyng is Penitence, now shul ye understonde that ther been three acciouns of Penitence.

The firste is that if a man be baptized after that he hath synned.

Seint Augustyn seith, "But he be penytent for his olde synful lyf, he may nat bigynne the newe clene lif."

For, certes, if he be baptized withouten penitence of his olde gilt, he receyveth the mark of baptesme

but nat the grace ne the remission of his synnes, til he have repentance verray.

Another defaute is this: that men doon deedly synne after that they han receyved baptesme.

100 The thridde defaute is that men fallen in venial synnes after hir baptesme fro day to day.

Therof seith Seint Augustyn that penitence of goode and humble folk is the penitence of every day.

The speces of Penitence been three. That oon of hem is solempne, another is commune, and the thridde is privee.

Thilke penance that is solempne is in two maneres;

as to be put out of hooly chirche in Lente for slaughtre of children, and swich maner thyng.

Another is, whan a man hath synned openly, of which synne the fame is openly spoken in the contree,

and thanne hooly chirche by juggement destreyneth hym for to do open penaunce.

Commune penaunce is that preestes enjoynen men communly in certeyn caas, as for to goon peraventure naked in pilgrimages, or barefoot.

Pryvee penaunce is thilke that men doon alday for privee synnes, of whiche we shryve us prively and receyve privee penaunce.

Now shaltow understande what is bihovely and necessarie to verray parfit Penitence. And this stant on three thynges:

Contricioun of Herte, Confessioun of Mouth, and Satisfaccioun.

For which seith Seint John Crisostom, "Penitence destreyneth a man to accepte benygnely every peyne that hym is enjoyned,

with contricioun of herte, and shrift of mouth, with satisfaccioun, and in werkynge of alle manere humylitee."

110 And this is fruytful penitence agayn three thynges in which we wratthe oure Lord Jhesu Crist;

this is to seyn, by delit in thynkynge, by reccheleesnesse in spekynge, and by wikked synful werkynge.

And agayns thise wikkede giltes is Penitence, that may be likned unto a tree.

The roote of this tree is Contricioun, that hideth hym in the herte of hym that is verray repentaunt,

right as the roote of a tree hydeth hym in the erthe.

Of the roote of Contricioun spryngeth a stalke that bereth braunches and leves of Confessioun, and fruyt of Satisfaccioun.

For which Crist seith in his gospel, "Dooth digne fruyt of Penitence"; for by this fruyt may men knowe this tree,

and nat by the roote that is hyd in the herte of man, ne by the braunches, ne by the leves of Confessioun.

And therfore oure Lord Jhesu Crist seith thus: "By the fruyt of hem shul ye knowen hem."

Of this roote eek spryngeth a seed of grace, the which seed is mooder of sikernesse, and this seed is egre and hoot.

The grace of this seed spryngeth of God thurgh remembrance of the day of doom and on the peynes of helle.

Of this matere seith Salomon that in the drede of God man forleteth his synne.

120 The heete of this seed is the love of God and the desiryng of the joye perdurable.

This heete draweth the herte of a man to God and dooth hym haten his synne.

For soothly ther is nothyng that savoureth so wel to a child as the milk of his norice,

ne nothyng is to hym moore abhomynable than thilke milk whan it is medled with oother mete.

Right so the synful man that loveth his synne, hym semeth that it is to him moost sweete of any thyng;

but fro that tyme that he loveth sadly oure Lord Jhesu Crist,

and desireth the lif perdurable, ther nys to him no thyng moore abhomynable.

For soothly the lawe of God is the love of God; for which David the prophete seith.

"I have loved thy lawe and hated wikkednesse and hate"; he that loveth God kepeth his lawe and his word.

This tree saugh the prophete Daniel in spirit, upon the avysioun of the kyng Nabugodonosor, whan he conseiled hym to do penitence.

Penaunce is the tree of lyf to hem that it receyven,

and he that holdeth hym in verray penitence is blessed, after the sentence of Salomon.

In this Penitence or Contricioun man shal understonde foure thynges; that is to seyn, what is Contricioun,

and whiche been the causes that moeven a man to Contricioun, and how he sholde be contrit, and what Contricioun availleth to the soule.

Thanne is it thus: that Contricioun is the verray sorwe that a man receyveth in his herte for his synnes,

with sad purpos to shryve hym, and to do penaunce, and neveremoore to do synne.

130 And this sorwe shal been in this manere, as seith Seint Bernard:

130A "It shal been hevy and grevous, and ful sharp and poynaunt in herte."

First, for man hath agilt his Lord and his Creatour; and moore sharp and poynaunt for he hath agilt hys Fader celestial;

and yet moore sharp and poynaunt for he hath wrathed and agilt hym that boghte hym, that with his precious blood hath delivered us

fro the bondes of synne, and fro the crueltee of the devel, and fro the peynes of helle.

The causes that oghte moeve a man to Contricioun been sixe. First a man shal remembre hym of his synnes;

but looke he that thilke remembraunce ne be to hym no delit by no wey, but greet shame and sorwe for his gilt.

For Job seith, "Synful men doon werkes worthy of confusioun."

And therfore seith Ezechie, "I wol remembre me alle the yeres of my lyf in bitternesse of myn herte."

And God seith in the Apocalipse, "Remembreth yow fro whennes that ye been falle";

for biforn that tyme that ye synned, ye were the children of God and lymes of the regne of God;

but for youre synne ye been woxen thral, and foul, and membres of the feend, hate of aungels, sclaundre of hooly chirche,

and foode of the false serpent, perpetueel matere of the fir of helle;

and yet moore foul and abhomynable, for ye trespassen so ofte tyme as dooth the hound that retourneth to eten his spewyng.

And yet be ye fouler for youre longe continuyng in synne and youre synful usage,

for which ye be roten in youre synne, as a beest in his dong.

140 Swiche manere of thoghtes maken a man to have shame of his synne, and no delit, as God seith by the prophete Ezechiel,

"Ye shal remembre yow of youre weyes, and they shuln displese yow." Soothly synnes been the weyes that leden folk to helle.

The seconde cause that oghte make a man to have desdeyn of synne is this:

that, as seith Seint Peter, "whoso that dooth synne is thral of synne"; and synne put a man in greet thraldom.

And therfore seith the prophete Ezechiel: "I wente sorweful in desdayn of myself."

Certes, wel oghte a man have desdayn of synne and withdrawe hym from that thraldom and vileynye.

And lo, what seith Seneca in this matere? He seith thus: "Though I wiste that neither God ne man ne sholde nevere knowe it,

yet wolde I have desdayn for to do synne."

And the same Seneca also seith, "I am born to gretter thynges than to be thral to my body,

or than for to maken of my body a thral."

Ne a fouler thral may no man ne womman maken of his body than for to yeven his body to synne.

Al were it the fouleste cherl or the fouleste womman that lyveth, and leest of value,

yet is he thanne moore foul and moore in servitute.

Evere fro the hyer degree that man falleth, the moore is he thral, and moore to God and to the world vile and abhomynable.

O goode God, wel oghte man have desdayn of synne, sith that thurgh synne ther he was free now is he maked bonde.

150 And therfore seyth Seint Augustyn: "If thou hast desdayn of thy servant,

150A if he agilte or synne, have thou thanne desdayn that thou thyself sholdest do synne."

Tak reward of thy value, that thou ne be to foul to thyself.

Allas, wel oghten they thanne have desdayn to been servauntz and thralles to synne, and soore been ashamed of hemself

that God of his endelees goodnesse hath set hem in heigh estaat, or yeven hem wit, strengthe of body, heele, beautee, prosperitee,

and boghte hem fro the deeth with his herte-blood,

that they so unkyndely, agayns his gentilesse, quiten hym so vileynsly to slaughtre of hir owene soules.

O goode God, ye wommen that been of so greet beautee, remembreth yow of the proverbe of Salomon. He seith,

"Likneth a fair womman that is a fool of hire body

lyk to a ryng of gold that were in the groyn of a soughe."

For right as a soughe wroteth in everich ordure, so wroteth she hire beautee in the stynkynge ordure of synne.

The thridde cause that oghte moeve a man to Contricioun is drede of the day of doom and of the horrible peynes of helle.

For as Seint Jerome seith, "At every tyme that me remembreth of the day of doom I quake;

160 for whan I ete or drynke, or what so that I do, evere semeth me that the trompe sowneth in myn ere:

`Riseth up, ye that been dede, and cometh to the juggement.'"

O goode God, muchel oghte a man to drede swich a juggement, "ther as we shullen been alle,"

as Seint Poul seith, "biforn the seete of oure Lord Jhesu Crist";

whereas he shal make a general congregacioun, whereas no man may been absent.

For certes there availleth noon essoyne ne excusacioun.

And nat oonly that oure defautes shullen be jugged, but eek that alle oure werkes shullen openly be knowe.

And, as seith Seint Bernard, "Ther ne shal no pledynge availle, ne no sleighte; we shullen yeven rekenynge of everich ydel word."

Ther shul we han a juge that may nat been deceyved ne corrupt. And why?

For, certes, alle oure thoghtes been discovered as to hym, ne for preyere ne for meede he shal nat been corrupt.

And therfore seith Salomon, "The wratthe of God ne wol nat spare no wight, for preyere ne for yifte";

and therfore, at the day of doom ther nys noon hope to escape.

Wherfore, as seith Seint Anselm, "Ful greet angwyssh shul the synful folk have at that tyme;

170 ther shal the stierne and wrothe juge sitte above, and under hym the horrible pit of helle open to destroyen hym

170A that moot biknowen his synnes, whiche synnes openly been shewed biforn God and biforn every creature;

and in the left syde mo develes than herte may bithynke, for to harye and drawe the synful soules to the peyne of helle;

and withinne the hertes of folk shal be the bitynge conscience, and withouteforth shal be the world al brennynge.

Whider shal thanne the wrecched synful man flee to hiden hym? Certes, he may nat hyden hym; he moste come forth and shewen hym."

For certes, as seith Seint Jerome, "the erthe shal casten hym out of hym, and the see also,

and the eyr also, that shal be ful of thonder-clappes and lightnynges."

Now soothly, whoso wel remembreth hym of thise thynges, I gesse that his synne shal nat turne hym into delit,

but to greet sorwe for drede of the peyne of helle.

And therfore seith Job to God, "Suffre, Lord, that I may a while biwaille and wepe,

er I go withoute returnyng to the derke lond, covered with the derknesse of deeth,

to the lond of mysese and of derknesse, whereas is the shadwe of deeth,

whereas ther is noon ordre or ordinaunce but grisly drede that evere shal laste."

Loo, heere may ye seen that Job preyde respit a while to biwepe and waille his trespas,

for soothly oo day of respit is bettre than al the tresor of this world.

And forasmuche as a man may acquiten hymself biforn God by penitence in this world, and nat by tresor,

therfore sholde he preye to God to yeve hym respit a while to biwepe and biwaillen his trespas.

180 For certes, al the sorwe that a man myghte make fro the bigynnyng of the world

180A nys but a litel thyng at regard of the sorwe of helle.

The cause why that Job clepeth helle the "lond of derkness.":

understondeth that he clepeth it "lond" or erthe, for it is stable and nevere shal faille; "derk,"

for he that is in helle hath defaute of light material.

For certes, the derke light that shal come out of the fyr that evere shal brenne

shal turne hym al to peyne that is in helle for it sheweth him to the horrible develes that hym tormenten.

"Covered with the derknesse of deeth" -- that is to seyn, that

he that is in helle shal have defaute of the sighte of God, for certes the sighte of God is the lyf perdurable.

"The derknesse of deeth" been the synnes that the wrecched man hath doon, whiche that destourben hym to see the face of God,

right as dooth a derk clowde bitwixe us and the sonne.

"Lond of misese," by cause that ther been three maneres of defautes,

agayn three thynges that folk of this world han in this present lyf; that is to seyn, honours, delices, and richesses.

Agayns honour, have they in helle shame and confusioun.

For wel ye woot that men clepen honour the reverence that man doth to man, but in helle is noon honour ne reverence.

For certes, namoore reverence shal be doon there to a kyng than to a knave.

For which God seith by the prophete Jeremye, "Thilke folk that me despisen shul been in despit."

190 Honour is eek cleped greet lordshipe; ther shal no wight serven other, but of harm

190A and torment. Honour is eek cleped greet dignytee and heighnesse, but in helle shul they been al fortroden of develes.

And God seith, "The horrible develes shulle goon and comen upon the hevedes of the dampned folk." And this is for as muche as

the hyer that they were in this present lyf, the moore shulle they been abated and defouled in helle.

Agayns the richesse of this world shul they han mysese of poverte, and this poverte shal been in foure thynges:

In defaute of tresor, of which that David seith, "The riche folk, that embraceden and oneden al hire herte to tresor of this world,

shul slepe in the slepynge of deeth; and nothyng ne shal they fynden in hir handes of al hir tresor."

And mooreover the myseyse of helle shal been in defaute of mete and drinke.

For God seith thus by Moyses: "They shul been wasted with hunger, and the briddes of helle shul devouren hem with bitter deeth,

and the galle of the dragon shal been hire drynke, and the venym of the dragon hire morsels."

And forther over, hire myseyse shal been in defaute of clothyng, for they shulle be naked in body as of clothyng,

save the fyr in which they brenne, and othere filthes;

and naked shul they been of soule, as of alle manere vertues, which that is the clothyng of the soule.

Where been thanne the gaye robes, and the softe shetes, and the smale shertes?

Loo, what seith God of hem by the prophete Ysaye: that

"under hem shul been strawed motthes, and hire covertures shulle been of wormes of helle."

And forther over, hir myseyse shal been in defaute of freendes.

For he nys nat povre that hath goode freendes; but there is no frend,

200 for neither God ne no creature shal been freend to hem, and everich of hem shal haten oother with deedly hate.

"The sones and the doghtren shullen rebellen agayns fader and mooder, and kynrede agayns kynrede, and chiden

and despisen everich of hem oother bothe day and nyght," as God seith by the prophete Michias.

And the lovynge children, that whilom loveden so flesshly everich oother, wolden everich of hem eten oother if they myghte.

For how sholden they love hem togidre in the peyne of helle,

whan they hated everich of hem oother in the prosperitee of this lyf?

For truste wel, hir flesshly love was deedly hate, as seith the prophete David: "Whoso that loveth wikkednesse, he hateth his soule."

And whoso hateth his owene soule, certes, he may love noon oother wight in no manere.

And therfore, in helle is no solas ne no freendshipe, but evere the moore flesshly kynredes that been in helle,

the moore cursynges, the more chidynges, and the moore deedly hate ther is among hem.

And forther over, they shul have defaute of alle manere delices.

For certes, delices been after the appetites of the fyve wittes, as sighte, herynge, smellynge, savorynge, and touchynge.

But in helle hir sighte shal be ful of derknesse and of smoke,

and therfore ful of teeres; and hir herynge ful of waymentynge and of gryntynge of teeth, as seith Jhesu Crist.

Hir nose-thirles shullen be ful of stynkynge stynk; and, as seith Ysaye the prophete, "hir savoryng shal be ful of bitter galle";

210 and touchynge of al hir body ycovered with "fir

210A that nevere shal quenche and with wormes that nevere shul dyen,"

210B as God seith by the mouth of Ysaye.

And for as muche as they shul nat wene that they may dyen for peyne, and by hir deeth flee fro peyne,

that may they understonden by the word of Job, that seith, "ther as is the shadwe of deeth."

Certes, a shadwe hath the liknesse of the thyng of which it is shadwe,

but shadwe is nat the same thyng of which it is shadwe.

Right so fareth the peyne of helle; it is lyk deeth for the horrible angwissh, and why?

For it peyneth hem evere, as though they sholde dye anon; but certes, they shal nat dye.

For, as seith Seint Gregorie, "To wrecche caytyves shal be deeth withoute deeth, and ende withouten ende, and defaute withoute failynge.

For hir deeth shal alwey lyven, and hir ende shal everemo bigynne, and hir defaute shal nat faille."

And therfore seith Seint John the Evaungelist, "They shullen folwe deeth,

and they shul nat fynde hym; and they shul desiren to dye, and deeth shal flee fro hem."

And eek Job seith that in helle is noon ordre of rule.

And al be it so that God hath creat alle thynges in right ordre, and no thyng withouten ordre,

but alle thynges been ordeyned and nombred; yet, nathelees, they that been dampned been nothyng in ordre, ne holden noon ordre,

for the erthe ne shal bere hem no fruyt.

220 For, as the prophete David seith, "God shal destroie the fruyt of the erthe as fro hem;

220A ne water ne shal yeve hem no moisture, ne the eyr no refresshyng, ne fyr no light."

For, as seith Seint Basilie, "The brennynge of the fyr of this world shal God yeven in helle to hem that been dampned,

but the light and the cleernesse shal be yeven in hevene to his children,"

right as the goode man yeveth flessh to his children and bones to his houndes.

And for they shullen have noon hope to escape, seith Seint Job atte laste that "ther shal horrour and grisly drede dwellen withouten ende."

Horrour is alwey drede of harm that is to come, and this drede shal evere dwelle in the hertes of hem that been dampned.

And therfore han they lorn al hire hope, for sevene causes.

First, for God, that is hir juge, shal be withouten mercy to hem; and they may nat plese hym ne noon of his halwes;

ne they ne may yeve no thyng for hir raunsoun;

ne they have no voys to speke to hym; ne they may nat fle fro peyne;

ne they have no goodnesse in hem, that they mowe shewe to delivere hem fro peyne.

And therfore seith Salomon: "The wikked man dyeth, and whan he is deed, he shal have noon hope to escape fro peyne."

Whoso thanne wolde wel understande thise peynes and bithynke hym weel that he hath deserved thilke peynes for his synnes,

certes, he sholde have moore talent to siken and to wepe than for to syngen and to pleye.

For, as that seith Salomon, "Whoso that hadde the science to knowe the peynes

that been establissed and ordeyned for synne, he wolde make sorwe."

230 "Thilke science," as seith Seint Augustyn, "maketh a man to waymenten in his herte."

The fourthe point that oghte maken a man to have contricion is the sorweful remembraunce of the good

that he hath left to doon heere in erthe, and eek the good that he hath lorn.

Soothly, the goode werkes that he hath lost, outher they been the goode werkes that he wroghte er he fel into deedly synne

or elles the goode werkes that he wroghte while he lay in synne.

Soothly, the goode werkes that he dide biforn that he fil in synne been al mortefied and astoned and dulled by the ofte synnyng.

The othere goode werkes, that he wroghte whil he lay in deedly synne,

thei been outrely dede, as to the lyf perdurable in hevene.

Thanne thilke goode werkes that been mortefied by ofte synnyng,

whiche goode werkes he dide whil he was in charitee, ne mowe nevere quyken agayn withouten verray penitence.

And therof seith God by the mouth of Ezechiel, that

"if the rightful man returne agayn from his rightwisnesse and werke wikkednesse, shal he lyve?"

Nay, for alle the goode werkes that he hath wroght ne shul nevere been in remembraunce, for he shal dyen in his synne.

And upon thilke chapitre seith Seint Gregorie thus: that "we shulle understonde this principally;

that whan we doon deedly synne,

it is for noght thanne to rehercen or drawen into memorie the goode werkes that we han wroght biforn."

240 For certes, in the werkynge of the deedly synne, ther is no trust to no good werk that we han doon biforn;

240A that is to seyn, as for to have therby the lyf perdurable in hevene.

But nathelees, the goode werkes quyken agayn, and comen agayn, and helpen,

and availlen to have the lyf perdurable in hevene, whan we han contricioun.

But soothly, the goode werkes that men doon whil they been in deedly synne,

for as muche as they were doon in deedly synne, they may nevere quyke agayn.

For certes, thyng that nevere hadde lyf may nevere quykene; and nathelees, al be it that they ne availle noght to han the lyf perdurable,

yet availlen they to abregge of the peyne of helle, or elles to geten temporal richesse,

or elles that God wole the rather enlumyne and lightne the herte of the synful man to have repentaunce;

and eek they availlen for to usen a man to doon goode werkes, that the feend have the lasse power of his soule.

And thus the curteis Lord Jhesu Crist ne wole that no good werk be lost, for in somwhat it shal availle.

But, for as muche as the goode werkes that men doon whil they been in good lyf been al mortefied by synne folwynge,

and eek sith that alle the goode werkes that men doon whil they been in deedly synne been outrely dede

as for to have the lyf perdurable,

wel may that man that no good werk ne dooth synge thilke newe Frenshe song, "Jay tout perdu mon temps et mon labour."

For certes, synne bireveth a man bothe goodnesse of nature and eek the goodnesse of grace.

250 For soothly, the grace of the Hooly Goost fareth lyk fyr, that may nat been ydel;

250A for fyr fayleth anoon as it forleteth his wirkynge, and right so grace fayleth anoon as it forleteth his werkynge.

Then leseth the synful man the goodnesse of glorie, that oonly is bihight to goode men that labouren and werken.

Wel may he be sory thanne, that oweth al his lif to God as longe as he hath lyved, and eek as longe

as he shal lyve, that no goodnesse ne hath to paye with his dette to God to whom he oweth al his lyf.

For trust wel, "He shal yeven acountes," as seith Seint Bernard,

"of alle the goodes that han be yeven hym in this present lyf, and how he hath hem despended,

[in] so muche that ther shal nat perisse an heer of his heed, ne a moment of an houre

ne shal nat perisse of his tyme, that he ne shal yeve of it a rekenyng."

The fifthe thyng that oghte moeve a man to contricioun

is remembrance of the passioun that oure Lord Jhesu Crist suffred for oure synnes.

For, as seith Seint Bernard, "Whil that I lyve I shal have remembrance of the travailles that oure Lord Crist suffred in prechyng:

his werynesse in travaillyng, his temptaciouns whan he fasted, his longe wakynges

whan he preyde, hise teeres whan that he weep for pitee of good peple,

the wo and the shame and the filthe that men seyden to hym, of the foule spittyng that men spitte in his face,

of the buffettes that men yaven hym, of the foule mowes, and of the repreves that men to hym seyden,

of the nayles with whiche he was nayled to the croys,

and of al the remenant of his passioun that he suffred for my synnes, and no thyng for his gilt."

260 And ye shul understonde that in mannes synne is every manere of ordre or ordinaunce turned up-so-doun.

For it is sooth that God, and resoun, and sensualitee, and the body of man been so ordeyned

that everich of thise foure thynges sholde have lordshipe over that oother,

as thus: God sholde have lordshipe over resoun, and resoun over sensualitee, and sensualitee over the body of man.

But soothly, whan man synneth, al this ordre or ordinaunce is turned up-so-doun.

And therfore thanne, for as muche as the resoun of man ne wol nat be subget ne obeisant to God, that is

his lord by right, therfore leseth it the lordshipe that it sholde have over sensualitee, and eek over the body of man.

And why? For sensualitee rebelleth thanne agayns resoun, and by that way leseth resoun the lordshipe over sensualitee and over the body.

For right as resoun is rebel to God, right so is bothe sensualitee rebel to resoun and the body also.

And certes this disordinaunce and this rebellioun oure Lord Jhesu Crist aboghte upon his precious body ful deere, and herkneth in which wise.

For as muche thanne as resoun is rebel to God, therfore is man worthy to have sorwe and to be deed.

This suffred oure Lord Jhesu Crist for man, after that he hadde be bitraysed of his disciple, and distreyned and bounde

so that his blood brast out at every nayl of his handes, as seith Seint Augustyn.

270 And forther over, for as muchel as resoun of man ne wol nat daunte sensualitee whan it may,

270A therfore is man worthy to have shame; and this suffred oure Lord Jhesu Crist for man, whan they spetten in his visage.

And forther over, for as muchel thanne as the caytyf body of man is rebel bothe to resoun and to sensualitee,

therfore is it worthy the deeth.

And this suffred oure Lord Jhesu Crist for man upon the croys,

where as ther was no part of his body free withouten greet peyne and bitter passioun.

And al this suffred Jhesu Crist, that nevere forfeted. And therfore resonably may be seyd of Jhesu in this manere:

"To muchel am I peyned for the thynges that I nevere deserved, and to muche defouled for shendshipe that man is worthy to have."

And therfore may the synful man wel seye, as seith Seint Bernard,

"Acursed be the bitternesse of my synne, for which ther moste be suffred so muchel bitternesse."

For certes, after the diverse [disordinaunces] of oure wikkednesses was the passioun of Jhesu Crist ordeyned in diverse thynges.

As thus: Certes, synful mannes soule is bitraysed of the devel by coveitise of temporeel prosperitee, and scorned by deceite

whan he cheseth flesshly delices; and yet is it tormented by inpacience of adversitee and bispet by servage and subjeccioun of synne;

and atte laste it is slayn fynally.

For this disordinaunce of synful man was Jhesu Crist first bitraysed,

and after that was he bounde, that cam for to unbynden us of synne and peyne.

Thanne was he byscorned, that oonly sholde han been honoured in alle thynges and of alle thynges.

Thanne was his visage, that oghte be desired to be seyn of al mankynde, in which visage aungels desiren to looke, vileynsly bispet.

280 Thanne was he scourged, that no thyng hadde agilt; and finally, thanne was he crucified and slayn.

Thanne was acompliced the word of Ysaye, "He was wounded for oure mysdedes and defouled for oure felonies."

Now sith that Jhesu Crist took upon hymself the peyne of alle oure wikkednesses, muchel oghte synful man wepen and biwayle,

that for his synnes Goddes sone of hevene sholde al this peyne endure.

The sixte thyng that oghte moeve a man to contricioun is the hope of three thynges; that is to seyn, foryifnesse of synne,

and the yifte of grace wel for to do, and the glorie of hevene, with which God shal gerdone man for his goode dedes.

And for as muche as Jhesu Crist yeveth us thise yiftes of his largesse and of his sovereyn bountee,

therfore is he cleped Jhesus Nazarenus rex Judeorum.

Jhesus is to seyn "saveour" or "salvacioun," on whom men shul hope to have foryifnesse of synnes, which that is proprely salvacioun of synnes.

And therfore seyde the aungel to Joseph, "Thou shalt clepen his name Jhesus, that shal saven his peple of hir synnes."

And heerof seith Seint Peter: "Ther is noon oother name under hevene

that is yeve to any man, by which a man may be saved, but oonly Jhesus."

Nazarenus is as muche for to seye as "florisshynge," in which a man shal hope that

he that yeveth hym remissioun of synnes shal yeve hym eek grace wel for to do.

For in the flour is hope of fruyt in tyme comynge, and in foryifnesse of synnes hope of grace wel for to do.

"I was atte dore of thyn herte," seith Jhesus, "and cleped for to entre. He that openeth to me shal have foryifnesse of synne.

290 I wol entre into hym by my grace and soupe with hym," by the goode werkes that he shal doon,

290A whiche werkes been the foode of God; "and he shal soupe with me" by the grete joye that I shal yeven hym.

Thus shal man hope, for his werkes of penaunce that God shal yeven hym his regne, as he bihooteth hym in the gospel.

Now shal a man understonde in which manere shal been his contricioun. I seye that it shal been universal and total.

This is to seyn, a man shal be verray repentaunt for alle his synnes that he hath doon

in delit of his thoght, for delit is ful perilous.

For ther been two manere of consentynges: that oon of hem is cleped consentynge of affeccioun,

whan a man is moeved to do synne, and deliteth hym longe for to thynke on that synne;

and his reson aperceyveth it wel that it is synne agayns the lawe of God,

and yet his resoun refreyneth nat his foul delit or talent, though he se wel apertly that it is agayns the reverence of God.

Although his resoun ne consente noght to doon that synne in dede,

yet seyn somme doctours that swich delit that dwelleth longe, it is ful perilous, al be it nevere so lite.

And also a man sholde sorwe namely for al that evere he hath desired agayn the lawe of God

with parfit consentynge of his resoun, for therof is no doute, that it is deedly synne in consentynge.

For certes, ther is no deedly synne that it nas first in mannes thought

and after that in his delit, and so forth into consentynge and into dede.

Wherfore I seye that many men ne repenten hem nevere of swiche thoghtes and delites,

ne nevere shryven hem of it, but oonly of the dede of grete synnes outward.

Wherfore I seye that swiche wikked delites and wikked thoghtes been subtile bigileres of hem that shullen be dampned.

300 Mooreover, man oghte to sorwe for his wikkede wordes as wel as for his wikkede dedes.

300A For certes, the repentaunce of a synguler synne, and nat repente of alle his othere synnes,

300B or elles repenten hym of alle his othere synnes and nat of a synguler synne, may nat availle.

For certes, God almyghty is al good, and therfore he foryeveth al or elles right noght.

And heerof seith Seint Augustyn,

"I wot certeynly that God is enemy to everich synnere." And how thanne?

He that observeth o synne, shal he have foryifnesse of the remenaunt of his othere synnes? Nay.

And forther over, contricioun sholde be wonder sorweful and angwissous; and therfore yeveth hym God pleynly his mercy;

and therfore, whan my soule was angwissous withinne me, I hadde remembrance of God that my preyere myghte come to hym.

Forther over, contricioun moste be continueel, and that man have stedefast purpos to shriven hym, and for to amenden hym of his lyf.

For soothly, whil contricioun lasteth, man may evere have hope of foryifnesse;

and of this comth hate of synne, that destroyeth synne, bothe in himself and eek in oother folk at his power.

For which seith David: "Ye that loven God, hateth wikkednesse."

For trusteth wel, to love God is for to love that he loveth, and hate that he hateth.

The laste thyng that men shal understonde in contricioun is this:

wherof avayleth contricioun. I seye that somtyme contricioun delivereth a man fro synne;

of which that David seith, "I seye," quod David (that is to seyn,

I purposed fermely) "to shryve me, and thow, Lord, relessedest my synne."

310 And right so as contricion availleth noght withouten sad purpos of shrifte,

310A if man have oportunitee, right so litel worth is shrifte or satisfaccioun withouten contricioun.

And mooreover contricion destroyeth the prisoun of helle, and maketh wayk and fieble alle the strengthes of the develes,

and restoreth the yiftes of the Hooly Goost and of alle goode vertues;

and it clenseth the soule of synne, and delivereth the soule fro the peyne of helle, and fro the compaignye of the devel,

and fro the servage of synne, and restoreth it to alle goodes espirituels, and to the compaignye and communyoun of hooly chirche.

And forther over, it maketh hym that whilom was sone of ire to be sone of grace;

and alle thise thynges been preved by hooly writ.

And therfore, he that wolde sette his entente to thise thynges, he were ful wys;

for soothly he ne sholde nat thanne in al his lyf have corage to synne,

but yeven his body and al his herte to the service of Jhesu Crist, and therof doon hym hommage.

For soothly oure sweete Lord Jhesu Crist hath spared us so debonairly in oure folies that

if he ne hadde pitee of mannes soule, a sory song we myghten alle synge.

The seconde partie of Penitence is Confessioun, that is signe of contricioun.

Now shul ye understonde what is Confessioun,

and wheither it oghte nedes be doon or noon, and whiche thynges been covenable to verray Confessioun.

First shaltow understonde that Confessioun is verray shewynge of synnes to the preest.

This is to seyn "verray," for he moste confessen hym of alle the condiciouns that bilongen to his synne, as ferforth as he kan.

320 Al moot be seyd, and no thyng excused ne hyd ne forwrapped, and noght avaunte thee of thy goode werkes.

And forther over, it is necessarie to understonde whennes that synnes spryngen, and how they encreessen, and whiche they been.

Of the spryngynge of synnes seith Seint Paul in this wise: that "Right as by a man synne entred first into this world,

and thurgh that synne deeth, right so thilke deeth entred into alle men that synneden."

And this man was Adam, by whom synne entred into this world, whan he brak the comaundementz of God.

And therfore, he that first was so myghty that he sholde nat have dyed, bicam swich oon that he moste nedes dye,

wheither he wolde or noon, and al his progenye in this world, that in thilke man synneden.

Looke that in th' estaat of innocence, whan Adam and Eve naked weren in Paradys, and nothyng ne hadden shame of hir nakednesse,

how that the serpent, that was moost wily of alle othere beestes that God hadde maked, seyde to the womman,

"Why comaunded God to yow ye sholde nat eten of every tree in Paradys?"

The womman answerde: "Of the fruyt," quod she, "of the trees in Paradys we feden us,

but soothly, of the fruyt of the tree that is in the myddel of Paradys, God forbad us for to ete,

ne nat touchen it, lest per aventure we sholde dyen."

The serpent seyde to the womman, "Nay, nay, ye shul nat dyen of deeth; for sothe, God woot that

what day that ye eten therof, youre eyen shul opene and ye shul been as goddes, knowynge good and harm."

The womman thanne saugh that the tree was good to feedyng, and fair to the eyen, and delitable to the sighte.

She took of the fruyt of the tree, and eet it, and yaf to hire housbonde,

and he eet, and anoon the eyen of hem bothe openeden.

330 And whan that they knewe that they were naked, they sowed of fige leves a maner of breches to hiden hire membres.

There may ye seen that deedly synne hath, first, suggestion of the feend, as sheweth heere by the naddre;

and afterward, the delit of the flessh, as sheweth heere by Eve; and after that, the consentynge of resoun, as sheweth heere by Adam.

For trust wel, though so were that the feend tempted Eve -- that is to seyn, the flessh --

and the flessh hadde delit in the beautee of the fruyt defended, yet certes, til that resoun -- that is to seyn, Adam --

consented to the etynge of the fruyt, yet stood he in th' estaat of innocence.

Of thilke Adam tooke we thilke synne original,

for of hym flesshly descended be we alle, and engendred of vile and corrupt mateere.

And whan the soule is put in oure body, right anon is contract original synne;

and that that was erst but oonly peyne of concupiscence is afterward bothe peyne and synne.

And therfore be we alle born sones of wratthe and of dampnacioun perdurable, if it nere baptesme that we receyven,

which bynymeth us the culpe. But for sothe, the peyne dwelleth with us, as to temptacioun, which peyne highte concupiscence.

And this concupiscence, whan it is wrongfully disposed or ordeyned in man, it maketh hym coveite, by coveitise of flessh,

flesshly synne, by sighte of his eyen as to erthely thynges, and eek coveitise of hynesse by pride of herte.

Now, as for to speken of the firste coveitise, that is concupiscence, after the lawe of oure membres

that weren lawefulliche ymaked and by rightful juggement of God,

I seye, forasmuche as man is nat obeisaunt to God, that is his lord,

therfore is the flessh to hym disobeisaunt thurgh concupiscence, which yet is cleped norrissynge of synne and occasioun of synne.

Therfore, al the while that a man hath in hym the peyne of concupiscence,

it is impossible but he be tempted somtime and moeved in his flessh to synne.

340 And this thyng may nat faille as longe as he lyveth.

340A it may wel wexe fieble and faille by vertu of baptesme and by the grace of God thurgh penitence,

but fully ne shal it nevere quenche, that he ne shal som tyme be moeved in hymself,

but if he were al refreyded by siknesse, or by malefice of sorcerie, or colde drynkes.

For lo, what seith Seint Paul: "The flessh coveiteth agayn the spirit, and the spirit agayn the flessh;

they been so contrarie and so stryven that a man may nat alway doon as he wolde."

The same Seint Paul, after his grete penaunce in water and in lond --

in water by nyght and by day in greet peril and in greet peyne;

in lond, in famyne and thurst, in coold and cloothlees, and ones stoned almoost to the deeth

-- yet seyde he, "Allas, I caytyf man! Who shal delivere me fro the prisoun of my caytyf body?"

And Seint Jerome, whan he longe tyme hadde woned in desert, where as he hadde no compaignye but of wilde beestes,

where as he ne hadde no mete but herbes, and water to his drynke, ne no bed but the naked erthe,

for which his flessh was blak as an Ethiopeen for heete, and ny destroyed for coold,

yet seyde he that "the brennynge of lecherie boyled in al his body."

Wherfore I woot wel sykerly that they been deceyved that seyn that they ne be nat tempted in hir body.

Witnesse on Seint Jame the Apostel, that seith that "every wight is tempted in his owene concupiscence"; that is to seyn,

that everich of us hath matere and occasioun to be tempted of the norissynge of synne that is in his body.

And therfore seith Seint John the Evaungelist, "If that we seyn that we be withoute synne,

we deceyve us selve, and trouthe is nat in us."

350 Now shal ye understonde in what manere that synne wexeth or encreesseth in man.

350A The firste thyng is thilke norissynge of synne of which I spak biforn, thilke flesshly concupiscence.

And after that comth the subjeccioun of the devel --

this is to seyn, the develes bely, with which he bloweth in man the fir of flesshly concupiscence.

And after that, a man bithynketh hym wheither he wol doon or no thilke thing to which he is tempted.

And thanne, if that a man withstonde and weyve the firste entisynge of his flessh and of the feend,

thanne is it no synne; and if it so be that he do nat so, thanne feeleth he anoon a flambe of delit.

And thanne is it good to be war and kepen hym wel,

or elles he wol falle anon into consentynge of synne; and thanne wol he do it, if he may have tyme and place.

And of this matere seith Moyses by the devel in this manere: "The feend seith,

`I wole chace and pursue the man by wikked suggestioun, and I wole hente hym by moevynge or stirynge of synne.

And I wol departe my prise or my praye by deliberacioun, and my lust shal been acompliced in delit.

I wol drawe my swerd in consentyng.'" --

for certes, right as a swerd departeth a thyng in two peces, right so consentynge departeth God fro man --

"`and thanne wol I sleen hym with myn hand in dede of synne'; thus seith the feend."

For certes, thanne is a man al deed in soule.

And thus is synne acompliced by temptacioun, by delit, and by consentynge; and thanne is the synne cleped actueel.

For sothe, synne is in two maneres; outher it is venial or deedly synne.

Soothly, whan man loveth any creature moore than Jhesu Crist oure Creatour, thanne is it deedly synne.

And venial synne is it, if man love Jhesu Crist lasse than hym oghte.

For sothe, the dede of this venial synne is ful perilous,

for it amenuseth the love that men sholde han to God moore and moore.

360 And therfore, if a man charge hymself with manye swiche venial synnes,

360A certes, but if so be that he somtyme descharge hym of hem by shrifte,

360B they mowe ful lightly amenuse in hym al the love that he hath to Jhesu Crist;

and in this wise skippeth venial into deedly synne. For certes, the moore that a man chargeth his soule with venial synnes,

the moore is he enclyned to fallen into deedly synne.

And therfore lat us nat be necligent to deschargen us of venial synnes. For the proverbe seith that "Manye smale maken a greet."

And herkne this ensample. A greet wawe of the see comth som tyme with so greet a violence that it drencheth the ship.

And the same harm doon som tyme the smale dropes of water, that entren thurgh a litel crevace into the thurrok,

and in the botme of the ship, if men be so necligent that they ne descharge hem nat by tyme.

And therfore, although ther be a difference bitwixe thise two causes of drenchynge, algates the ship is dreynt.

Right so fareth it somtyme of deedly synne, and of anoyouse veniale synnes,

whan they multiplie in a man so greetly that [the love of] thilke worldly thynges that he loveth,

thurgh whiche he synneth venyally, is as greet in his herte as the love of God, or moore.

And therfore, the love of every thyng that is nat biset in God, ne doon principally for Goddes sake,

although that a man love it lasse than God, yet is it venial synne;

and deedly synne whan the love of any thyng weyeth in the herte of man as muchel as the love of God, or moore.

"Deedly synne," as seith Seint Augustyn, "is whan a man turneth his herte fro God,

which that is verray sovereyn bountee, that may nat chaunge, and yeveth his herte to thyng that may chaunge and flitte."

And certes, that is every thyng save God of hevene.

For sooth is that if a man yeve his love, the which that he oweth al to God with al his herte, unto a creature,

certes, as muche of his love as he yeveth to thilke creature, so muche he bireveth fro God;

370 and therfore dooth he synne. For he that is dettour to God ne yeldeth nat to God al his dette;

370A that is to seyn, al the love of his herte.

Now sith man understondeth generally which is venial synne, thanne is it covenable to tellen specially of synnes whiche that many

a man peraventure ne demeth hem nat synnes, and ne shryveth him nat of the same thynges, and yet natheless they been synnes

soothly, as thise clerkes writen; this is to seyn, that at every tyme that a man eteth or drynketh

moore than suffiseth to the sustenaunce of his body, in certein he dooth synne.

And eek whan he speketh moore than it nedeth, it is synne. Eke whan he herkneth nat benignely the compleint of the povre;

eke whan he is in heele of body and wol nat faste whan other folk faste, withouten cause resonable;

eke whan he slepeth moore than nedeth, or whan he comth by thilke enchesoun to late to chirche, or to othere werkes of charite;

eke whan he useth his wyf withouten sovereyn desir of engendrure to the honour of God

or for the entente to yelde to his wyf the dette of his body;

eke whan he wol nat visite the sike and the prisoner, if he may;

eke if he love wyf or child, or oother worldly thyng, moore than resoun requireth.

eke if he flatere or blandise moore than hym oghte for any necessitee;

eke if he amenuse or withdrawe the almesse of the povre;

eke if he apparailleth his mete moore deliciously than nede is, or ete it to hastily by likerousnesse;

eke if he tale vanytees at chirche or at Goddes service, or that he be a talker

of ydel wordes of folye or of vileynye, for he shal yelden acountes of it at the day of doom;

eke whan he biheteth or assureth to do thynges that he may nat parfourne;

eke whan that he by lightnesse or folie mysseyeth or scorneth his neighebor;

380 eke whan he hath any wikked suspecioun of thyng ther he ne woot of it no soothfastnesse:

thise thynges, and mo withoute nombre, been synnes, as seith Seint Augustyn.

Now shal men understonde that, al be it so that noon erthely man may eschue alle venial synnes,

yet may he refreyne hym by the brennynge love that he hath to oure Lord Jhesu Crist,

and by preyeres and confessioun and othere goode werkes, so that it shal but litel greve.

For, as seith Seint Augustyn, "If a man love God in swich manere that al that evere he dooth

is in the love of God and for the love of God verraily, for he brenneth in the love of God,

looke how muche that a drope of water that falleth in a fourneys ful of fyr anoyeth

or greveth, so muche anoyeth a venial synne unto a man that is parfit in the love of Jhesu Crist."

Men may also refreyne venial synne by receyvynge worthily of the precious body of Jhesu Crist;

by receyvynge eek of hooly water, by almesdede, by general confessioun of Confiteor at masse and at complyn,

and by blessynge of bisshopes and of preestes, and by oothere goode werkes.

Now is it bihovely thyng to telle whiche been the sevene deedly synnes,

this is to seyn, chieftaynes of synnes. Alle they renne in o lees, but in diverse manneres.

Now been they cleped chieftaynes, for as muche as they been chief and spryng of alle othere synnes.

Of the roote of thise sevene synnes, thanne, is Pride the general roote of alle harmes.

For of this roote spryngen certein braunches, as Ire, Envye, Accidie or Slewthe, Avarice or Coveitise (to commune understondynge), Glotonye, and Lecherye.

And everich of thise chief synnes hath his braunches and his twigges, as shal be declared in hire chapitres folwynge.

390 And thogh so be that no man kan outrely telle the nombre of the twigges and of the harmes that cometh of Pride,

390A yet wol I shewe a partie of hem, as ye shul understonde.

Ther is inobedience, avauntynge, ypocrisie, despit, arrogance, inpudence, swellynge of herte, insolence, elacioun, inpacience, strif, contumacie, presumpcioun, irreverence, pertinacie, veyneglorie,

and many another twig that I kan nat declare.

Inobedient is he that disobeyeth for despit to the comandementz of God, and to his sovereyns, and to his goostly fader.

Avauntour is he that bosteth of the harm or of the bountee that he hath doon.

Ypocrite is he that hideth to shewe hym swich as he is and sheweth hym swich as he noght is.

Despitous is he that hath desdeyn of his neighebor --

that is to seyn, of his evene-Cristene -- or hath despit to doon that hym oghte to do.

Arrogant is he that thynketh that he hath thilke bountees in hym that he hath noght,

or weneth that he sholde have hem by his desertes, or elles he demeth that he be that he nys nat.

Inpudent is he that for his pride hath no shame of his synnes.

Swellynge of herte is whan a man rejoyseth hym of harm that he hath doon.

Insolent is he that despiseth in his juggement alle othere folk,

as to regard of his value, and of his konnyng, and of his spekyng, and of his beryng.

400 Elacioun is whan he ne may neither suffre to have maister ne felawe.

Inpacient is he that wol nat been ytaught ne undernome of his vice, and by strif werreieth trouthe wityngly, and deffendeth his folye.

Contumax is he that thurgh his indignacioun is agayns everich auctoritee or power of hem that been his sovereyns.

Presumpcioun is whan a man undertaketh an emprise that hym oghte nat do, or elles that he may nat do;

and this is called surquidrie. Irreverence is whan men do nat honour there as hem oghte to doon, and waiten to be reverenced.

Pertinacie is whan man deffendeth his folie and trusteth to muchel to his owene wit.

Veyneglorie is for to have pompe and delit in his temporeel hynesse, and glorifie hym in this worldly estaat.

Janglynge is whan a man speketh to muche biforn folk, and clappeth as a mille, and taketh no keep what he seith.

And yet is ther a privee spece of Pride that waiteth first to be salewed

er he wole salewe, al be he lasse worth than that oother is, peraventure;

and eek he waiteth or desireth to sitte, or elles to goon above hym in the wey,

or kisse pax, or been encensed, or goon to offryng biforn his neighebor,

and swiche semblable thynges, agayns his duetee, peraventure, but that he hath his herte

and his entente in swich a proud desir to be magnified and honoured biforn the peple.

Now been ther two maneres of Pride: that oon of hem is withinne the herte of man, and that oother is withoute.

410 Of whiche, soothly, thise forseyde thynges, and mo than I have seyd, apertenen to Pride that is in the herte of man;

410A and that othere speces of Pride been withoute.

But natheles that oon of thise speces of Pride is signe of that oother,

right as the gaye leefsel atte taverne is signe of the wyn that is in the celer.

And this is in manye thynges: as in speche and contenaunce, and in outrageous array of clothyng.

For certes, if ther ne hadde be no synne in clothyng,

Crist wolde nat so soone have noted and spoken of the clothyng of thilke riche man in the gospel.

And, as seith Seint Gregorie, that "precious clothyng is cowpable for the derthe of it, and for his softenesse,

and for his strangenesse and degisynesse, and for the superfluitee, or for the inordinat scantnesse of it."

Allas, may man nat seen, as in oure dayes, the synful costlewe array of clothynge,

and namely in to muche superfluite, or elles in to desordinat scantnesse?

As to the first synne, that is in superfluitee of clothynge, which that maketh it so deere, to harm of the peple;

nat oonly the cost of embrowdynge, the degise endentynge or barrynge, owndynge, palynge, wyndynge or bendynge, and semblable wast of clooth in vanitee,

but ther is also costlewe furrynge in hir gownes, so muche pownsonynge of chisels to maken holes, so muche daggynge of sheres;

forth-with the superfluitee in lengthe of the forseide gownes, trailynge in the dong and in the mire, on horse and eek on foote,

as wel of man as of womman, that al thilke trailyng is verraily as in effect wasted, consumed, thredbare, and roten with donge,

rather than it is yeven to the povre, to greet damage of the forseyde povre folk.

420 And that in sondry wise; this is to seyn that the moore that clooth is wasted,

420A the moore moot it coste to the peple for the scarsnesse.

And forther over, if so be that they wolde yeven swich pownsoned and dagged clothyng to the povre folk,

it is nat convenient to were for hire estaat, ne suffisant to beete hire necessitee, to kepe hem fro the distemperance of the firmament.

Upon that oother side, to speken of the horrible disordinat scantnesse of clothyng, as been thise kutted sloppes, or haynselyns,

that thurgh hire shortnesse ne covere nat the shameful membres of man, to wikked entente.

Allas, somme of hem shewen the boce of hir shap, and the horrible swollen membres,

that semeth lik the maladie of hirnia, in the wrappynge of hir hoses;

and eek the buttokes of hem faren as it were the hyndre part of a she-ape in the fulle of the moone.

And mooreover, the wrecched swollen membres that they shewe thurgh disgisynge,

in departynge of hire hoses in whit and reed, semeth that half hir shameful privee membres weren flayne.

And if so be that they departen hire hoses in othere colours,

as is whit and blak, or whit and blew, or blak and reed, and so forth,

thanne semeth it, as by variaunce of colour, that half the partie of hire privee membres were corrupt

by the fir of Seint Antony, or by cancre, or by oother swich meschaunce.

Of the hyndre part of hir buttokes, it is ful horrible for to see.

For certes, in that partie of hir body ther as they purgen hir stynkynge ordure,

that foule partie shewe they to the peple prowdly in despit of honestitee,

which honestitee that Jhesu Crist and his freendes observede to shewen in hir lyve.

430 Now, as of the outrageous array of wommen, God woot that though the visages of somme of hem seme ful chaast and debonaire,

430A yet notifie they in hire array of atyr likerousnesse and pride.

I sey nat that honestitee in clothynge of man or womman is uncovenable, but certes the superfluitee or disordinat scantitee of clothynge is reprevable.

Also the synne of aornement or of apparaille is in thynges that apertenen to ridynge,

as in to manye delicat horses that been hoolden for delit, that been so faire, fatte, and costlewe;

and also in many a vicious knave that is sustened by cause of hem; and in to curious harneys,

as in sadeles, in crouperes, peytrels, and bridles covered with precious clothyng, and riche barres and plates of gold and of silver.

For which God seith by Zakarie the prophete, "I wol confounde the rideres of swiche horses."

This folk taken litel reward of the ridynge of Goddes sone of hevene, and of his harneys whan he rood upon the asse,

and ne hadde noon oother harneys but the povre clothes of his disciples;

ne we ne rede nat that evere he rood on oother beest.

I speke this for the synne of superfluitee, and nat for resonable honestitee, whan reson it requireth.

And forther over, certes, pride is greetly notified in holdynge of greet meynee, whan they be of litel profit or of right no profit,

and namely whan that meynee is felonous and damageous to the peple by hardynesse of heigh lordshipe or by wey of offices.

For certes, swiche lordes sellen thanne hir lordshipe to the devel of helle, whanne they sustenen the wikkednesse of hir meynee.

440 Or elles, whan this folk of lowe degree, as thilke that holden hostelries, sustenen the thefte of hire hostilers,

440A and that is in many manere of deceites.

Thilke manere of folk been the flyes that folwen the hony,

or elles the houndes that folwen the careyne. Swich forseyde folk stranglen spiritually hir lordshipes;

for which thus seith David the prophete:

"Wikked deeth moote come upon thilke lordshipes, and God yeve that they moote descenden into helle al doun,

for in hire houses been iniquitees and shrewednesses and nat God of hevene."

And certes, but if they doon amendement, right as God yaf his benysoun to [Laban] by the service of Jacob,

and to [Pharao] by the service of Joseph, right so God wol yeve his malisoun

to swiche lordshipes as sustenen the wikkednesse of hir servauntz, but they come to amendement.

Pride of the table appeereth eek ful ofte; for certes, riche men been cleped to festes, and povre folk been put awey and rebuked.

Also in excesse of diverse metes and drynkes, and namely swich manere bake-metes and dissh-metes, brennynge of wilde fir

and peynted and castelled with papir, and semblable wast, so that it is abusioun for to thynke.

And eek in to greet preciousnesse of vessel and curiositee of mynstralcie, by whiche a man is stired the moore to delices of luxurie,

if so be that he sette his herte the lasse upon oure Lord Jhesu Crist, certeyn it is a synne;

and certeinly the delices myghte been so grete in this caas that man myghte lightly falle by hem into deedly synne.

The especes that sourden of Pride, soothly whan they sourden of malice ymagined, avised, and forncast,

or elles of usage, been deedly synnes, it is no doute.

And whan they sourden by freletee unavysed, and sodeynly withdrawen

ayeyn, al been they grevouse synnes, I gesse that they ne been nat deedly.

450 Now myghte men axe wherof that Pride sourdeth and spryngeth, and I seye,

450A somtyme it spryngeth of the goodes of nature, and somtyme of the goodes of fortune, and somtyme of the goodes of grace.

Certes, the goodes of nature stonden outher in goodes of body or in goodes of soule.

Certes, goodes of body been heele of body, strengthe, delivernesse, beautee, gentrice, franchise.

Goodes of nature of the soule been good wit, sharp understondynge, subtil engyn, vertu natureel, good memorie.

Goodes of fortune been richesse, hyghe degrees of lordshipes, preisynges of the peple.

Goodes of grace been science, power to suffre spiritueel travaille, benignitee, vertuous contemplacioun, withstondynge of temptacioun, and semblable thynges.

Of whiche forseyde goodes, certes it is a ful greet folye a man to priden hym in any of hem alle.

Now as for to speken of goodes of nature,

God woot that somtyme we han hem in nature as muche to oure damage as to oure profit.

As for to speken of heele of body, certes it passeth ful lightly,

and eek it is ful ofte enchesoun of the siknesse of oure soule.

For, God woot, the flessh is a ful greet enemy to the soule,

and therfore, the moore that the body is hool, the moore be we in peril to falle.

Eke for to pride hym in his strengthe of body, it is an heigh folye.

For certes, the flessh coveiteth agayn the spirit, and ay the moore strong that the flessh is, the sorier may the soule be.

460 And over al this, strengthe of body and worldly hardynesse causeth ful ofte many a man to peril and meschaunce.

Eek for to pride hym of his gentrie is ful greet folie; for

ofte tyme the gentrie of the body binymeth the gentrie of the soule;

and eek we ben alle of o fader and of o mooder;

and alle we been of o nature, roten and corrupt, bothe riche and povre.

For sothe, o manere gentrie is for to preise, that apparailleth mannes corage with vertues and moralitees, and maketh hym Cristes child.

For truste wel that over what man that synne hath maistrie, he is a verray cherl to synne.

Now been ther generale signes of gentillesse, as eschewynge of vice and ribaudye and servage of synne, in word, in werk, and contenaunce,

and usynge vertu, curteisye, and clennesse, and to be liberal --

that is to seyn, large by mesure, for thilke that passeth mesure is folie and synne.

Another is to remembre hym of bountee that he of oother folk hath receyved.

Another is to be benigne to his goode subgetis; wherfore seith Senek,

"Ther is no thing moore covenable to a man of heigh estaat than debonairetee and pitee.

And therfore thise flyes that men clepen bees, whan they maken hir kyng,

they chesen oon that hath no prikke wherwith he may stynge."

Another is, a man to have a noble herte and a diligent to attayne to heighe vertuouse thynges.

470 Now certes, a man to pride hym in the goodes of grace is eek an outrageous folie, for thilke

470A yifte of grace that sholde have turned hym to goodnesse and to medicine, turneth hym to venym and to confusioun, as seith Seint Gregorie.

Certes also, whoso prideth hym in the goodes of fortune, he is a ful greet fool;

for somtyme is a man a greet lord by the morwe, that is a caytyf and a wrecche er it be nyght;

and somtyme the richesse of a man is cause of his deth;

somtyme the delices of a man ben cause of the grevous maladye thurgh which he dyeth.

Certes, the commendacioun of the peple is somtyme ful fals and ful brotel for to triste; this day they preyse, tomorwe they blame.

God woot, desir to have commendacioun eek of the peple hath caused deeth to many a bisy man.

Now sith that so is that ye han understonde what is Pride,

and whiche been the speces of it, and whennes Pride sourdeth and spryngeth,

now shul ye understonde which is the remedie agayns the synne of Pride; and that is humylitee, or mekenesse.

That is a vertu thurgh which a man hath verray knoweleche of hymself, and holdeth of hymself no pris ne deyntee,

as in regard of his desertes, considerynge evere his freletee.

Now been ther three maneres of humylitee: as humylitee in herte; another humylitee is in his mouth; the thridde in his werkes.

The humilitee in herte is in foure maneres. That oon is whan a man holdeth hymself as noght worth biforn God of hevene.

Another is whan he ne despiseth noon oother man.

480 The thridde is whan he rekketh nat, though men holde hym noght worth. The ferthe is whan he nys nat sory of his humiliacioun.

Also the humilitee of mouth is in foure thynges:

in attempree speche, and in humblesse of speche, and whan he biknoweth with his owene mouth

that he is swich as hym thynketh that he is in his herte.

Another is whan he preiseth the bountee of another man, and nothyng therof amenuseth.

Humilitee eek in werkes is in foure maneres. The firste is whan he putteth othere men biforn hym.

The seconde is to chese the loweste place over al. The thridde is gladly to assente to good conseil.

The ferthe is to stonde gladly to the award of his sovereyns,

or of hym that is in hyer degree. Certein, this is a greet werk of humylitee.

After Pride wol I speken of the foule synne of Envye, which that is, as by the word of the Philosophre,

"sorwe of oother mannes prosperitee"; and after the word of Seint Augustyn, it is "Sorwe

of oother mennes wele, and joye of othere mennes harm."

This foule synne is platly agayns the Hooly Goost. Al be it so that every synne is agayns the Hooly Goost,

yet nathelees, for as muche as bountee aperteneth proprely to the Hooly Goost, and Envye comth proprely of malice,

therfore it is proprely agayn the bountee of the Hooly Goost.

Now hath malice two speces; that is to seyn, hardnesse of herte in wikkednesse,

or elles the flessh of man is so blynd that he considereth nat that he is in synne

or rekketh nat that he is in synne, which is the hardnesse of the devel.

That oother spece of malice is whan a man werreyeth trouthe, whan he woot that it is trouthe;

and eek whan he werreyeth the grace that God hath yeve to his neighebor; and al this is by Envye.

Certes, thanne is Envye the worste synne that is. For soothly, alle othere synnes been somtyme oonly agayns o special vertu,

but certes Envye is agayns alle vertues and agayns alle goodnesses.

For it is sory of alle the bountees of his neighebor, and in this manere it is divers from alle othere synnes.

490 For wel unnethe is ther any synne that it ne hath som delit in itself,

490A save oonly Envye, that evere hath in itself angwissh and sorwe.

The speces of Envye been thise. Ther is first, sorwe of oother mannes goodnesse and of his prosperitee;

and prosperitee is kyndely matere of joye; thanne is Envye a synne agayns kynde.

The seconde spece of Envye is joye of oother mannes harm,

and that is proprely lyk to the devel, that evere rejoyseth hym of mannes harm.

Of thise two speces comth bakbityng; and this synne of bakbityng or detraccion hath certeine speces, as thus:

Som man preiseth his neighebor by a wikked entente,

for he maketh alwey a wikked knotte atte laste ende. Alwey he maketh a "but" atte laste ende,

that is digne of moore blame than worth is al the preisynge.

The seconde spece is that if a man be good and dooth or seith a thing to good entente,

the bakbitere wol turne al thilke goodnesse up-so-doun to his shrewed entente.

The thridde is to amenuse the bountee of his neighebor.

The fourthe spece of bakbityng is this: that if men speke goodnesse of a man, thanne wol the bakbitere seyn,

"Parfey, swich a man is yet bet than he," in dispreisynge of hym that men preise.

The fifte spece is this: for to consente gladly and herkne gladly to the harm that men speke of oother folk.

This synne is ful greet and ay encreesseth after the wikked entente of the bakbitere.

After bakbityng cometh gruchchyng or murmuracioun; and somtyme it spryngeth of inpacience agayns God, and somtyme agayns man.

500 Agayn God it is whan a man gruccheth agayn the peyne of helle, or agayns poverte, or los of catel,

500A or agayn reyn or tempest; or elles gruccheth that shrewes han prosperitee, or elles for that goode men han adversitee.

And alle thise thynges sholde man suffre paciently, for they comen by the rightful juggement and ordinaunce of God.

Somtyme comth grucching of avarice;

as Judas grucched agayns the Magdaleyne whan she enoynted the heved of oure Lord Jhesu Crist with hir precious oynement.

This manere murmure is swich as whan man gruccheth of goodnesse that hymself dooth, or that oother folk doon of hir owene catel.

Somtyme comth murmure of Pride, as whan Simon the Pharisee gruchched agayn the Magdaleyne

whan she approched to Jhesu Crist and weep at his feet for hire synnes.

And somtyme grucchyng sourdeth of Envye, whan men discovereth a mannes harm that was pryvee or

bereth hym on hond thyng that is fals.

Murmure eek is ofte amonges servauntz that grucchen whan hir sovereyns bidden hem doon leveful thynges;

and forasmuche as they dar nat openly withseye the comaundementz of hir sovereyns,

yet wol they seyn harm, and grucche, and murmure prively for verray despit;

whiche wordes men clepen the develes Pater noster, though so be that the devel ne hadde nevere Pater noster,

but that lewed folk yeven it swich a name.

Somtyme it comth of Ire or prive hate that norisseth rancour in herte, as afterward I shal declare.

510 Thanne cometh eek bitternesse of herte, thurgh which bitternesse every good dede of his neighebor semeth to hym bitter and unsavory.

Thanne cometh discord that unbyndeth alle manere of freendshipe. Thanne comth scornynge of his neighebor, al do he never so weel.

Thanne comth accusynge, as whan man seketh occasioun to anoyen his neighebor,

which that is lyk the craft of the devel, that waiteth bothe nyght and day to accusen us alle.

Thanne comth malignitee, thurgh which a man anoyeth his neighebor prively, if he may;

and if he noght may, algate his wikked wil ne shal nat wante,

as for to brennen his hous pryvely, or empoysone or sleen his beestes, and semblable thynges.

Now wol I speke of remedie agayns this foule synne of Envye. First is the love of God principal

and lovyng of his neighebor as hymself, for soothly that oon ne may nat been withoute that oother.

And truste wel that in the name of thy neighebor thou shalt understonde the name of thy brother;

for certes alle we have o fader flesshly and o mooder -- that is to seyn, Adam and Eve --

and eek o fader espiritueel, and that is God of hevene.

Thy neighebor artow holden for to love and wilne hym alle goodnesse; and therfore seith God,

"Love thy neighebor as thyselve" -- that is to seyn, to salvacioun bothe of lyf and of soule.

And mooreover thou shalt love hym in word, and in benigne amonestynge and chastisynge,

and conforten hym in his anoyes, and preye for hym with al thyn herte.

And in dede thou shalt love hym in swich wise that thou shalt doon to hym in charitee

as thou woldest that it were doon to thyn owene persone.

520 And therfore thou ne shalt doon hym no damage in wikked word, ne harm in his body,

520A ne in his catel, ne in his soule, by entissyng of wikked ensample.

Thou shalt nat desiren his wyf ne none of his thynges. Understoond eek that in the name of neighebor is comprehended his enemy.

Certes, man shal loven his enemy, by the comandement of God; and soothly thy freend shaltow love in God.

I seye, thyn enemy shaltow love for Goddes sake, by his commandement.

For if it were reson that man sholde haten his enemy,

for sothe God nolde nat receyven us to his love that been his enemys.

Agayns three manere of wronges that his enemy dooth to hym, he shal doon three thynges, as thus:

Agayns hate and rancour of herte, he shal love hym in herte.

Agayns chidyng and wikkede wordes, he shal preye for his enemy. Agayns the wikked dede of his enemy, he shal doon hym bountee.

For Crist seith, "Loveth youre enemys, and preyeth for hem that speke yow harm, and eek for hem that yow chacen and pursewen,

and dooth bountee to hem that yow haten." Loo, thus comaundeth us oure Lord Jhesu Crist to do to oure enemys.

For soothly, nature dryveth us to loven oure freendes, and parfey, oure enemys han moore nede to love than oure freendes;

and they that moore nede have, certes to hem shal men doon goodnesse;

and certes, in thilke dede have we remembraunce of the love of Jhesu Crist that deyde for his enemys.

And in as muche as thilke love is the moore grevous to parfourne, so muche is the moore gret the merite;

and therfore the lovynge of oure enemy hath confounded the venym of the devel.

530 For right as the devel is disconfited by humylitee, right so is he wounded to the deeth by love of oure enemy.

Certes, thanne is love the medicine that casteth out the venym of Envye fro mannes herte.

The speces of this paas shullen be moore largely declared in hir chapitres folwynge.

After Envye wol I discryven the synne of Ire. For soothly, whoso hath envye upon his neighebor,

anon he wole comunly fynde hym a matere of wratthe, in word or in dede, agayns hym to whom he hath envye.

And as wel comth Ire of Pride as of Envye, for soothly he that is proud or envyous is lightly wrooth.

This synne of Ire, after the discryvyng of Seint Augustyn, is wikked wil to been avenged by word or by dede.

Ire, after the Philosophre, is the fervent blood of man yquyked in his herte,

thurgh which he wole harm to hym that he hateth.

For certes, the herte of man, by eschawfynge and moevynge of his blood, wexeth

so trouble that he is out of alle juggement of resoun.

But ye shal understonde that Ire is in two maneres; that oon of hem is good, and that oother is wikked.

The goode Ire is by jalousie of goodnesse,

thurgh which a man is wrooth with wikkednesse and agayns wikkednesse; and therfore seith a wys man that Ire is bet than pley.

540 This Ire is with debonairetee, and it is wrooth withouten bitternesse; nat wrooth agayns the man,

540A but wrooth with the mysdede of the man, as seith the prophete David, "Irascimini et nolite peccare."

Now understondeth that wikked Ire is in two maneres;

that is to seyn, sodeyn Ire or hastif Ire, withouten avisement and consentynge of resoun.

The menyng and the sens of this is that the resoun of a man ne consente nat to thilke sodeyn Ire,

and thanne is it venial.

Another Ire is ful wikked, that comth of felonie of herte avysed and cast biforn, with wikked wil to do vengeance,

and therto his resoun consenteth. and soothly this is deedly synne.

This Ire is so displesant to God that it troubleth his hous and chaceth the Hooly Goost out of mannes soule,

and wasteth and destroyeth the liknesse of God -- that is to seyn, the vertu that is in mannes soule --

and put in hym the liknesse of the devel, and bynymeth the man fro God, that is his rightful lord.

This Ire is a ful greet plesaunce to the devel,

for it is the develes fourneys, that is eschawfed with the fir of helle.

For certes, right so as fir is moore mighty to destroyen erthely thynges than any oother element,

right so Ire is myghty to destroyen alle spiritueel thynges.

Looke how that fir of smale gleedes that been almost dede under asshen wollen quike agayn whan they been touched with brymstoon;

right so Ire wol everemo quyken agayn whan it is touched by the pride that is covered in mannes herte.

For certes, fir ne may nat comen out of no thyng, but if it were first in the same thyng natureelly,

as fir is drawen out of flyntes with steel.

550 And right so as pride is ofte tyme matere of Ire, right so is rancour norice and kepere of Ire.

Ther is a maner tree, as seith Seint Ysidre, that whan men maken fir of thilke tree

and covere the coles of it with asshen, soothly the fir of it wol lasten al a yeer or moore.

And right so fareth it of rancour; whan it is ones conceyved in the hertes of som men,

certein, it wol lasten peraventure from oon Estre day unto another Estre day, and moore.

But certes, thilke man is ful fer fro the mercy of God al thilke while.

In this forseyde develes fourneys ther forgen three shrewes: Pride, that ay bloweth and encreesseth the fir by chidynge and wikked wordes;

thanne stant Envye and holdeth the hoote iren upon the herte of man with a peire of longe toonges of long rancour;

and thanne stant the synne of Contumelie, or strif and cheeste, and batereth and forgeth by vileyns reprevynges.

Certes, this cursed synne anoyeth bothe to the man hymself and eek to his neighebor.

For soothly, almoost al the harm that any man dooth to his neighebor comth of wratthe.

For certes, outrageous wratthe dooth al that evere the devel hym comaundeth, for he ne spareth neither Crist ne his sweete Mooder.

And in his outrageous anger and ire -- allas, allas! --

ful many oon at that tyme feeleth in his herte ful wikkedly, bothe of Crist and eek of alle his halwes.

560 Is nat this a cursed vice? Yis, certes. Allas! It bynymeth from man his wit and his resoun,

560A and al his debonaire lif espiritueel that sholde kepen his soule.

Certes, it bynymeth eek Goddes due lordshipe, and that is mannes soule and the love of his neighebores.

It stryveth eek alday agayn trouthe. It reveth hym the quiete of his herte and subverteth his soule.

Of Ire comen thise stynkynge engendrures: First, hate, that is oold wratthe;

discord, thurgh which a man forsaketh his olde freend that he hath loved ful longe;

and thanne cometh werre and every manere of wrong that man dooth to his neighebor, in body or in catel.

Of this cursed synne of Ire cometh eek manslaughtre. And understonde wel that homycide, that is manslaughtre, is in diverse wise.

Som manere of homycide is spiritueel, and som is bodily.

Spiritueel manslaughtre is in sixe thynges. First by hate, as seith Seint John: "He that hateth his brother is an homycide."

Homycide is eek by bakbitynge, of whiche bakbiteres seith Salomon that "they han two swerdes with whiche they sleen hire neighebores."

For soothly, as wikke is to bynyme his good name as his lyf.

Homycide is eek in yevynge of wikked conseil by fraude, as for to yeven conseil to areysen wrongful custumes and taillages.

Of whiche seith Salomon, "Leon rorynge and bere hongry been like to the cruel lordshipes" in withholdynge or abreggynge of the shepe

(or the hyre), or of the wages of servauntz, or elles in usure, or in withdrawynge of the almesse of povre folk.

For which the wise man seith, "Fedeth hym that almoost dyeth for honger"; for soothly, but if thow feede hym, thou sleest hym;

and alle thise been deedly synnes.

570 Bodily manslaughtre is, whan thow sleest him with thy tonge in oother manere,

570A as whan thou comandest to sleen a man or elles yevest hym conseil to sleen a man.

Manslaughtre in dede is in foure maneres.

That oon is by lawe, right as a justice dampneth hym that is coupable to the deeth.

But lat the justice be war that he do it rightfully, and

that he do it nat for delit to spille blood but for kepynge of rightwisnesse.

Another homycide is that is doon for necessitee, as whan o man sleeth another in his defendaunt

and that he ne may noon ootherwise escape from his owene deeth.

But certeinly if he may escape withouten slaughtre of his adversarie, and sleeth hym,

he dooth synne and he shal bere penance as for deedly synne.

Eek if a man, by caas or aventure, shete an arwe,

or caste a stoon with which he sleeth a man, he is homycide.

Eek if a womman by necligence overlyeth hire child in hir slepyng, it is homycide and deedly synne.

Eek whan man destourbeth concepcioun of a child, and maketh a womman outher bareyne

by drynkynge venenouse herbes thurgh which she may nat conceyve,

or sleeth a child by drynkes wilfully, or elles putteth certeine material thynges in hire secree places to slee the child,

or elles dooth unkyndely synne, by which man or womman shedeth hire nature in manere or in place

ther as a child may nat be conceived, or elles if a woman have conceyved,

and hurt hirself and sleeth the child, yet is it homycide.

What seye we eek of wommen that mordren hir children for drede of worldly shame? Certes, an horrible homicide.

Homycide is eek if a man approcheth to a womman by desir of lecherie, thurgh which the child is perissed,

or elles smyteth a womman wityngly, thurgh which she leseth hir child. Alle thise been homycides and horrible deedly synnes.

580 Yet comen ther of Ire manye mo synnes, as wel in word as in thoght and in dede;

580A as he that arretteth upon God, or blameth God of thyng of which he is hymself gilty,

580B or despiseth God and alle his halwes, as doon thise cursede hasardours in diverse contrees.

This cursed synne doon they, whan they feelen in hir herte ful wikkedly of God and of his halwes.

Also whan they treten unreverently the sacrement of the auter, thilke synne is so greet that unnethe may it been releessed,

but that the mercy of God passeth alle his werkes; it is so greet, and he so benigne.

Thanne comth of Ire attry angre. Whan a man is sharply amonested in his shrifte to forleten his synne,

thanne wole he be angry, and answeren hokerly and angrily, and deffenden or excusen his synne by unstedefastnesse of his flessh;

or elles he dide it for to holde compaignye with his felawes; or elles, he seith, the feend enticed hym;

or elles he dide it for his youthe; or elles his compleccioun is so corageous that he may nat forbere;

or elles it is his destinee, as he seith, unto a certein

age; or elles, he seith, it cometh hym of gentillesse of his auncestres; and semblable thynges.

Alle thise manere of folk so wrappen hem in hir synnes that they ne wol nat delivere hemself.

For soothly, no wight that excuseth hym wilfully of his synne

may nat been delivered of his synne til that he mekely biknoweth his synne.

After this, thanne cometh sweryng, that is expres agayn the comandement of God; and this bifalleth ofte of anger and of Ire.

God seith, "Thow shalt nat take the name of thy Lord God in veyn or in ydel."

Also oure Lord Jhesu Crist seith, by the word of Seint Mathew,

"Ne wol ye nat swere in alle manere; neither by hevene, for it is Goddes trone;

ne by erthe, for it is the bench of his feet; ne by Jerusalem, for it is the citee of a greet kyng;

ne by thyn heed, for thou mayst nat make an heer whit ne blak.

590 But seyeth by youre word `ye, ye,' and `nay, nay'; and what that is moore, it is of yvel" -- thus seith Crist.

For Cristes sake, ne swereth nat so synfully in dismembrynge of Crist by soule, herte, bones, and body.

For certes, it semeth that ye thynke that the cursede Jewes ne dismembred nat ynough the preciouse persone of Crist,

but ye dismembre hym moore.

And if so be that the lawe compelle yow to swere, thanne rule yow after the lawe of God in youre swerying,

as seith Jeremye, quarto capitulo: Thou shalt kepe three condicions: thou shalt swere "in trouthe, in doom, and in rightwisnesse."

This is to seyn, thou shalt swere sooth, for every lesynge is agayns Crist;

for Crist is verray trouthe. And thynk wel this: that "every greet swerere, nat compelled lawefully to

swere, the wounde shal nat departe from his hous" whil he useth swich unleveful swerying.

Thou shalt sweren eek in doom, whan thou art constreyned by thy domesman to witnessen the trouthe.

Eek thow shalt nat swere for envye, ne for favour, ne for meede, but for rightwisnesse, for declaracioun of it,

to the worshipe of God and helpyng of thyne evene-Cristene.

And therfore every man that taketh Goddes name in ydel, or falsly swereth with his mouth,

or elles taketh on hym the name of Crist, to be called a Cristen man

and lyveth agayns Cristes lyvynge and his techynge, alle they taken Goddes name in ydel.

Looke eek what Seint Peter seith, Actuum quarto, Non est aliud nomen sub celo, etc., "Ther nys noon oother name," seith Seint Peter,

"under hevene yeven to men, in which they mowe be saved"; that is to seyn, but the name of Jhesu Crist.

Take kep eek how precious is the name of Crist, as seith Seint Paul, ad Philipenses secundo, In nomine Jhesu, etc.,

"That in the name of Jhesu every knee of hevenely creatures, or erthely, or of helle sholde

bowe," for it is so heigh and so worshipful that the cursede feend in helle sholde tremblen to heeren it ynempned.

Thanne semeth it that men that sweren so horribly by his blessed name,

that they despise it moore booldely than dide the cursede Jewes or elles the devel, that trembleth whan he heereth his name.

600 Now certes, sith that sweryng, but if it be lawefully doon, is so heighly deffended, muche worse is forsweryng falsly, and yet nedelees.

What seye we eek of hem that deliten hem in sweryng,

and holden it a gentrie or a manly dede to swere grete othes?

And what of hem that of verray usage ne cesse nat to swere grete othes, al be the cause nat worth a straw?

Certes, this is horrible synne.

Swerynge sodeynly withoute avysement is eek a synne.

But lat us go now to thilke horrible sweryng of adjuracioun and conjuracioun,

as doon thise false enchauntours or nigromanciens in bacyns ful of water,

or in a bright swerd, in a cercle, or in a fir, or in a shulder-boon of a sheep.

I kan nat seye but that they doon cursedly and dampnably agayns Crist and al the feith of hooly chirche.

What seye we of hem that bileeven on divynailes, as by flight or by noyse of briddes, or of beestes,

or by sort, by nigromancie, by dremes, by chirkynge of dores or crakkynge of houses, by gnawynge of rattes, and swich manere wrecchednesse?

Certes, al this thyng is deffended by God and by hooly chirche.

For which they been acursed, til they come to amendement, that on swich filthe setten hire bileeve.

Charmes for woundes or maladie of men or of beestes, if they taken any effect,

it may be peraventure that God suffreth it, for folk sholden yeve the moore feith and reverence to his name.

Now wol I speken of lesynges, which generally is fals signyficaunce of word, in entente to deceyven his evene-Cristene.

Som lesynge is of which ther comth noon avantage to no wight;

and som lesynge turneth to the ese and profit of o man, and to disese and damage of another man.

610 Another lesynge is for to saven his lyf or his catel. Another

610A lesynge comth of delit for to lye, in which delit they wol forge a long tale

610B and peynten it with alle circumstaunces, where al the ground of the tale is fals.

Som lesynge comth for he wole sustene his word; and som lesynge comth of reccheleesnesse withouten avisement; and semblable thynges.

Lat us now touche the vice of flaterynge, which ne comth nat gladly but for drede or for coveitise.

Flaterye is generally wrongful preisynge. Flatereres been the develes norices, that norissen his children with milk of losengerie.

For sothe, Salomon seith that "Flaterie is wors than detraccioun." For somtyme detraccion maketh an hauteyn man be the moore humble,

for he dredeth detraccion; but certes flaterye, that maketh a man to enhauncen his herte and his contenaunce.

Flatereres been the develes enchauntours; for they make a man to wene of hymself be lyk that he nys nat lyk.

They been lyk to Judas that bitraysen a man to sellen hym to his enemy; that is to the devel.

Flatereres been the develes chapelleyns, that syngen evere Placebo.

I rekene flaterie in the vices of Ire,

for ofte tyme if o man be wrooth with another, thanne wole he flatere som wight to sustene hym in his querele.

Speke we now of swich cursynge as comth of irous herte. Malisoun generally may be seyd every maner power of harm.

Swich cursynge bireveth man fro the regne of God, as seith Seint Paul.

620 And ofte tyme swich cursynge wrongfully retorneth agayn to hym that curseth, as a bryd that retorneth agayn to his owene nest.

And over alle thyng men oghten eschewe to cursen hire children, and yeven to the devel hire engendrure,

as ferforth as in hem is. Certes, it is greet peril and greet synne.

Lat us thanne speken of chidynge and reproche, whiche been ful grete woundes in mannes herte,

for they unsowen the semes of freendshipe in mannes herte.

For certes, unnethes may a man pleynly been accorded with hym that hath hym openly revyled and repreved and disclaundred.

This is a ful grisly synne, as Crist seith in the gospel.

And taak kep now, that he that repreveth his neighebor, outher he repreveth hym by som harm of peyne

that he hath on his body, as "mesel," "croked harlot," or by som synne that he dooth.

Now if he repreve hym by harm of peyne, thanne turneth the repreve to Jhesu Crist,

for peyne is sent by the rightwys sonde of God, and by his suffrance, be it meselrie, or maheym, or maladie.

And if he repreve hym uncharitably of synne, as "thou holour," "thou dronkelewe harlot," and so forth,

thanne aperteneth that to the rejoysynge of the devel, that evere hath joye that men doon synne.

And certes, chidynge may nat come but out of a vileyns herte.

For after the habundance of the herte speketh the mouth ful ofte.

And ye shul understonde that looke, by any wey,

whan any man shal chastise another, that he be war from chidynge or reprevynge.

For trewely, but he be war, he may ful lightly quyken the fir of angre and of wratthe,

which that he sholde quenche, and peraventure sleeth hym which that he myghte chastise with benignitee.

For as seith Salomon, "The amyable tonge is the tree of lyf" -- that is to seyn, of lyf espiritueel --

and soothly, a deslavee tonge sleeth the spirites of hym that repreveth and eek of hym that is repreved.

630 Loo, what seith Seint Augustyn: "Ther is nothyng so lyk the develes child as he that ofte chideth."

630A Seint Paul seith eek, "The servant of God bihoveth nat to chide."

And how that chidynge be a vileyns thyng bitwixe alle manere folk,

yet is it certes moost uncovenable bitwixe a man and his wyf,

for there is nevere reste. And therfore seith Salomon, "An

hous that is uncovered and droppynge and a chidynge wyf been lyke."

A man that is in a droppynge hous in manye places,

though he eschewe the droppynge in o place, it droppeth on hym in another place.

So fareth it by a chydynge wyf; but she chide hym in o place, she wol chide hym in another.

And therfore, "Bettre is a morsel of breed with joye than an hous ful of delices with chidynge," seith Salomon.

Seint Paul seith, "O ye wommen, be ye subgetes to youre housbondes as bihoveth in God,

and ye men loveth youre wyves." Ad Colossenses tertio.

Afterward speke we of scornynge, which is a wikked synne, and namely whan he scorneth a man for his goode werkes.

For certes, swiche scorneres faren lyk the foule

tode, that may nat endure to smelle the soote savour of the vyne whanne it florissheth.

Thise scorneres been partyng felawes with the devel; for they han joye whan the devel wynneth and sorwe whan he leseth.

They been adversaries of Jhesu Crist, for they haten that he loveth -- that is to seyn, salvacioun of soule.

Speke we now of wikked conseil, for he that wikked conseil yeveth is a traytour.

For he deceyveth hym that trusteth in hym, ut Achitofel ad Absolonem. But nathelees, yet is his wikked conseil first agayn hymself.

640 For, as seith the wise man, "Every fals lyvynge hath this propertee in hymself, that

640A he that wole anoye another man, he anoyeth first hymself."

And men shul understonde that man shal nat taken his conseil of fals folk, ne of angry folk, or grevous folk,

ne of folk that loven specially to muchel hir owene profit, ne to muche worldly folk, namely in conseilynge of soules.

Now comth the synne of hem that sowen and maken discord amonges folk, which is a synne that Crist hateth outrely.

And no wonder is, for he deyde for to make concord.

And moore shame do they to Crist than dide they that hym crucifiede,

for God loveth bettre that freendshipe be amonges folk, than he dide his owene body,

the which that he yaf for unitee. Therfore been they likned to the devel, that evere is aboute to maken discord.

Now comth the synne of double tonge, swiche as speken faire byforn folk and wikkedly bihynde, or elles they maken semblant

as though they speeke of good entencioun, or elles in game and pley, and yet they speke of wikked entente.

Now comth biwreying of conseil, thurgh which a man is defamed; certes, unnethe may he restoore the damage.

Now comth manace, that is an open folye, for he that ofte manaceth, he threteth moore than he may parfourne ful ofte tyme.

Now cometh ydel wordes, that is withouten profit of hym that speketh tho wordes,

and eek of hym that herkneth tho wordes. Or elles ydel wordes been tho that been nedelees or withouten entente of natureel profit.

And al be it that ydel wordes been somtyme venial synne,

yet sholde men douten hem, for we shul yeve rekenynge of hem bifore God.

Now comth janglynge, that may nat been withoute synne. And, as seith Salomon, "It is a sygne of apert folye."

650 And therfore a philosophre seyde, whan men axed hym how that men sholde plese the peple,

650A and he answerde, "Do manye goode werkes, and spek fewe jangles."

After this comth the synne of japeres, that been the develes apes,

for they maken folk to laughe at hire japerie as folk doon at the gawdes of an ape.

Swiche japeres deffendeth Seint Paul.

Looke how that vertuouse wordes and hooly conforten hem that travaillen in the service of Crist,

right so conforten the vileyns wordes and knakkes of japeris hem that travaillen in the service of the devel.

Thise been the synnes that comen of the tonge, that comen of Ire and of othere synnes mo.

The remedie agayns Ire is a vertu that men clepen mansuetude, that is debonairetee;

and eek another vertu, that men callen pacience or suffrance.

Debonairetee withdraweth and refreyneth the stirynges and the moevynges of mannes corage in his herte,

in swich manere that they ne skippe nat out by angre ne by ire.

Suffrance suffreth swetely alle the anoyaunces and the wronges that men doon to man outward.

Seint Jerome seith thus of debonairetee, that "it dooth noon harm to no wight ne seith.

ne for noon harm that men doon or seyn, he ne eschawfeth nat agayns his resoun."

This vertu somtyme comth of nature, for, as seith the Philosophre,

"A man is a quyk thyng, by nature debonaire and tretable to goodnesse;

but whan debonairetee is enformed of grace, thanne is it the moore worth."

Pacience, that is another remedie agayns Ire, is a vertu that suffreth swetely every mannes goodnesse,

and is nat wrooth for noon harm that is doon to hym.

660 The Philosophre seith that pacience is thilke vertu that suffreth debonairely alle the outrages of adversitee and every wikked word.

This vertu maketh a man lyk to God, and maketh hym Goddes owene deere child, as seith Crist.

This vertu disconfiteth thyn enemy. And therfore seith the wise man, "If thow wolt venquysse thyn enemy, lerne to suffre."

And thou shalt understonde that man suffreth foure manere of grevances in outward thynges,

agayns the whiche foure he moot have foure manere of paciences.

The firste grevance is of wikkede wordes. Thilke suffrede Jhesu Crist withouten grucchyng, ful paciently,

whan the Jewes despised and repreved hym ful ofte.

Suffre thou therfore paciently; for the wise man seith, "If thou stryve with a fool,

though the fool be wrooth or though he laughe, algate thou shalt have no reste."

That oother grevance outward is to have damage of thy catel. Theragayns suffred Crist ful paciently, whan

he was despoyled of al that he hadde in this lyf, and that nas but his clothes.

The thridde grevance is a man to have harm in his body. That suffred Crist ful paciently in al his passioun.

The fourthe grevance is in outrageous labour in werkes.

Wherfore I seye that folk that maken hir servantz to travaillen to grevously or out of tyme, as on haly dayes,

soothly they do greet synne.

Heer-agayns suffred Crist ful paciently and taughte us pacience, whan he baar upon his blissed shulder

the croys upon which he sholde suffren despitous deeth.

Heere may men lerne to be pacient, for certes noght oonly Cristen men been pacient for love of Jhesu Crist

and for gerdoun of the blisful lyf that is perdurable, but

certes, the olde payens that nevere were Cristene commendeden and useden the vertu of pacience.

670 A philosophre upon a tyme, that wolde have beten his disciple for his grete trespas,

670A for which he was greetly amoeved, and broghte a yerde to scoure with the child;

and whan this child saugh the yerde, he seyde to his maister,

"What thenke ye do?" "I wol bete thee," quod the maister, "for thy correccioun."

"For sothe," quod the child, "ye oghten first correcte youreself,

that han lost al youre pacience for the gilt of a child."

"For sothe," quod the maister al wepynge, "thow seyst sooth. Have thow the yerde, my deere sone, and correcte me for myn inpacience."

Of pacience comth obedience, thurgh which a man is obedient to Crist and to alle hem

to whiche he oghte to been obedient in Crist.

And understond wel that obedience is parfit

whan that a man dooth gladly and hastily, with good herte entierly, al that he sholde do.

Obedience generally is to parfourne the doctrine of God and of his sovereyns, to whiche hym oghte to ben obeisaunt in alle rightwisnesse.

After the synne of Envye and of Ire, now wol I speken of the synne of Accidie.

For Envye blyndeth the herte of a man, and Ire troubleth a man, and Accidie maketh hym hevy, thoghtful, and wraw.

Envye and Ire maken bitternesse in herte, which bitternesse is mooder of Accidie, and bynymeth hym the love of alle goodnesse.

Thanne is Accidie the angwissh of troubled herte; and Seint Augustyn seith, "It is anoy of goodnesse and joye of harm."

Certes, this is a dampnable synne, for it dooth wrong to Jhesu Crist,

in as muche as it bynymeth the service that men oghte doon to Crist with alle diligence, as seith Salomon.

680 But Accidie dooth no swich diligence. He dooth alle thyng with anoy, and with wrawnesse, slaknesse, and excusacioun, and with ydelnesse, and unlust;

680A for which the book seith, "Acursed be he that dooth the service of God necligently."

Thanne is Accidie enemy to everich estaat of man, for certes the estaat of man is in three maneres.

Outher it is th' estaat of innocence, as was th' estaat of Adam biforn that he fil into synne,

in which estaat he was holden to wirche as in heriynge and adowrynge of God.

Another estaat is the estaat of synful men, in which estaat men been holden to laboure in preiynge to God

for amendement of hire synnes, and that he wole graunte hem to arysen out of hir synnes.

Another estaat is th' estaat of grace, in which estaat he is holden to werkes of penitence.

And certes, to alle thise thynges is Accidie enemy and contrarie, for he loveth no bisynesse at al.

Now certes this foule synne Accidie is eek a ful greet enemy to the liflode of the body,

for it ne hath no purveaunce agayn temporeel necessitee, for it forsleweth and forsluggeth and destroyeth alle goodes temporeles by reccheleesnesse.

The fourthe thyng is that Accidie is lyk hem that been in the peyne of helle, by cause of hir slouthe

and of hire hevynesse, for they that been dampned been so bounde that they ne may neither wel do ne wel thynke.

Of Accidie comth first that a man is anoyed and encombred for to doon any goodnesse,

and maketh that God hath abhomynacion of swich Accidie, as seith Seint John.

Now comth Slouthe, that wol nat suffre noon hardnesse ne no penaunce. For soothly, Slouthe is so tendre and so delicaat,

as seith Salomon, that he wol nat suffre noon hardnesse ne penaunce, and therfore he shendeth al that he dooth.

Agayns this roten-herted synne of Accidie and Slouthe sholde men exercise hemself to doon goode werkes, and manly

and vertuously cacchen corage wel to doon, thynkynge that oure Lord Jhesu Crist quiteth every good dede, be it never so lite.

690 Usage of labour is a greet thyng, for it maketh, as seith Seint Bernard, the laborer to have stronge armes and harde synwes;

690A and slouthe maketh hem feble and tendre.

Thanne comth drede to bigynne to werke anye goode werkes. For certes, he that is enclyned to synne,

hym thynketh it is so greet an emprise for to undertake to doon werkes of goodnesse,

and casteth in his herte that the circumstaunces of goodnesse been so grevouse

and so chargeaunt for to suffre, that he dar nat undertake to do werkes of goodnesse, as seith Seint Gregorie.

Now comth wanhope, that is despeir of the mercy of God, that comth somtyme of to muche outrageous sorwe,

and somtyme of to muche drede, ymaginynge that he hath doon so muche synne that it wol nat availlen hym,

though he wolde repenten hym and forsake synne,

thurgh which despeir or drede he abaundoneth al his herte to every maner synne, as seith Seint Augustin.

Which dampnable synne, if that it continue unto his ende, it is cleped synnyng in the Hooly Goost.

This horrible synne is so perilous that he that is despeired,

ther nys no felonye ne no synne that he douteth for to do, as shewed wel by Judas.

Certes, aboven alle synnes thanne is this synne moost displesant to Crist, and moost adversarie.

Soothly, he that despeireth hym is lyk the coward champioun recreant, that seith "creant" withoute nede.

Allas, allas, nedeles is he recreant and nedelees despeired.

Certes, the mercy of God is evere redy to the penitent, and is aboven alle his werkes.

700 Allas, kan a man nat bithynke hym on the gospel of Seint Luc, 15,

700A where as Crist seith that "as wel shal ther be joye in hevene upon a synful man that dooth penitence,

700B as upon nynty and nyne rightful men that neden no penitence."

Looke forther, in the same gospel, the joye and the feeste of the goode man that hadde lost his sone,

whan his sone with repentaunce was retourned to his fader.

Kan they nat remembren hem eek that, as seith Seint Luc, 23, how that the theef that was hanged bisyde Jhesu Crist seyde,

"Lord, remembre of me, whan thow comest into thy regn."?

"For sothe," seyde Crist, "I seye to thee, to-day shaltow been with me in paradys."

Certes, ther is noon so horrible synne of man

that it ne may in his lyf be destroyed by penitence, thurgh vertu of the passion and of the deeth of Crist.

Allas, what nedeth man thanne to been despeired, sith that his mercy so redy is and large? Axe and have.

Thanne cometh sompnolence, that is sloggy slombrynge, which maketh a man be hevy and dul in body and in soule,

and this synne comth of Slouthe.

And certes, the tyme that, by wey of resoun, men sholde nat slepe, that is by the morwe,

but if ther were cause resonable.

For soothly, the morwe tyde is moost covenable a man to seye his preyeres, and for to thynken on God,

and for to honoure God, and to yeven almesse to the povre that first cometh in the name of Crist.

Lo, what seith Salomon: "Whoso wolde by the morwe awaken and seke me, he shal fynde."

710 Thanne cometh necligence, or reccheleesnesse, that rekketh of no thyng.

710A And how that ignoraunce be mooder of alle harm, certes, necligence is the norice.

Necligence ne dooth no fors, whan he shal doon a thyng, wheither he do it weel or baddely.

Of the remedie of thise two synnes, as seith the wise man,

that "He that dredeth God, he spareth nat to doon that him oghte doon."

And he that loveth God, he wol doon diligence to plese God by his werkes

and abaundone hymself, with al his myght, wel for to doon.

Thanne comth ydelnesse, that is the yate of alle harmes. An ydel man is lyk to a place that hath no walles;

the develes may entre on every syde, or sheten at hym at discovert, by temptacion on every syde.

This ydelnesse is the thurrok of alle wikked and vileyns thoghtes, and of alle jangles, trufles, and of alle ordure.

Certes, the hevene is yeven to hem that wol labouren, and nat to ydel folk. Eek David seith that

"they ne been nat in the labour of men, ne they shul nat been whipped with men"

-- that is to seyn, in purgatorie.

Certes, thanne semeth it they shul be tormented with the devel in helle, but if they doon penitence.

Thanne comth the synne that men clepen tarditas, as whan a man is to laterede or tariynge er he wole turne to God,

and certes that is a greet folie. He is lyk to hym that falleth in the dych and wol nat arise.

And this vice comth of a fals hope, that he thynketh that he shal lyve longe; but that hope faileth ful ofte.

720 Thanne comth lachesse; that is he that whan he biginneth any good werk

720A anon he shal forleten it and stynten, as doon they that han any wight to governe

720B and ne taken of hym namoore kep anon as they fynden any contrarie or any anoy.

Thise been the newe sheepherdes that leten hir sheep wityngly go renne

to the wolf that is in the breres, or do no fors of hir owene governaunce.

Of this comth poverte and destruccioun, bothe of spiritueel and temporeel thynges.

Thanne comth a manere cooldnesse, that freseth al the herte of a man.

Thanne comth undevocioun, thurgh which a man is so blent, as seith Seint Bernard,

and hath swich langour in soule that he may neither rede ne singe in hooly chirche, ne heere ne thynke of no devocioun,

ne travaille with his handes in no good werk, that it nys hym unsavory and al apalled.

Thanne wexeth he slough and slombry, and soone wol be wrooth, and soone is enclyned to hate and to envye.

Thanne comth the synne of worldly sorwe, swich as is cleped tristicia, that sleeth man, as seith Seint Paul.

For certes, swich sorwe werketh to the deeth of the soule and of the body also;

for therof comth that a man is anoyed of his owene lif.

Wherfore swich sorwe shorteth ful ofte the lif of man, er that his tyme be come by wey of kynde.

Agayns this horrible synne of Accidie, and the branches of the same, ther is a vertu that is called fortitudo or strengthe,

that is an affeccioun thurgh which a man despiseth anoyouse thinges.

This vertu is so myghty and so vigerous that it dar withstonde myghtily and wisely kepen hymself fro perils that been wikked,

and wrastle agayn the assautes of the devel.

730 For it enhaunceth and enforceth the soule, right as Accidie abateth it and maketh it fieble.

730A For this fortitudo may endure by long suffraunce the travailles that been covenable.

This vertu hath manye speces; and the firste is cleped magnanimitee, that is to seyn, greet corage.

For certes, ther bihoveth greet corage agains Accidie,

lest that it ne swolwe the soule by the synne of sorwe, or destroye it by wanhope.

This vertu maketh folk to undertake harde thynges and grevouse thynges, by hir owene wil, wisely and resonably.

And for as muchel as the devel fighteth agayns a man moore by queyntise and by sleighte than by strengthe,

therfore men shal withstonden hym by wit and by resoun and by discrecioun.

Thanne arn ther the vertues of feith and hope in God and in his seintes

to acheve and acomplice the goode werkes in the whiche he purposeth fermely to continue.

Thanne comth seuretee or sikernesse, and that is

whan a man ne douteth no travaille in tyme comynge of the goode werkes that a man hath bigonne.

Thanne comth magnificence; that is to seyn, whan a man dooth and parfourneth grete werkes of goodnesse; and that is the ende

why that men sholde do goode werkes, for in the acomplissynge of grete goode werkes lith the grete gerdoun.

Thanne is ther constaunce, that is stablenesse of corage, and this sholde been in herte by stedefast feith,

and in mouth, and in berynge, and in chiere, and in dede.

Eke ther been mo speciale remedies against Accidie in diverse werkes, and

in consideracioun of the peynes of helle and of the joyes of hevene,

and in the trust of the grace of the Holy Goost, that wole yeve hym myght to parfourne his goode entente.

After Accidie wol I speke of Avarice and of Coveitise, of which synne seith

Seint Paul that "the roote of alle harmes is Coveitise." Ad Thimotheum Sexto.

740 For soothly, whan the herte of a man is confounded in itself and troubled, and that

740A the soule hath lost the confort of God, thanne seketh he an ydel solas of worldly thynges.

Avarice, after the descripcioun of Seint Augustyn, is a likerousnesse in herte to have erthely thynges.

Som oother folk seyn that Avarice is for to purchacen manye erthely thynges and no thyng yeve to hem that han nede.

And understoond that Avarice ne stant nat oonly in lond ne catel,

but somtyme in science and in glorie, and in every manere of outrageous thyng is Avarice and Coveitise.

And the difference bitwixe Avarice and Coveitise is this: Coveitise is for to coveite swiche thynges as thou hast nat;

and Avarice is for to withholde and kepe swiche thynges as thou hast, withoute rightful nede.

Soothly, this Avarice is a synne that is ful dampnable, for al hooly writ curseth it and speketh agayns that vice,

for it dooth wrong to Jhesu Crist.

For it bireveth hym the love that men to hym owen, and turneth it bakward agayns alle resoun,

and maketh that the avaricious man hath moore hope in his catel than in Jhesu Crist,

and dooth moore observance in kepynge of his tresor than he dooth to the service of Jhesu Crist.

And therfore seith Seint Paul Ad Ephesios quinto, that an avaricious man is the thraldom of ydolatrie.

What difference is bitwixe an ydolastre and an avaricious man, but that an ydolastre, per aventure, ne hath but o mawmet or two,

and the avaricious man hath manye? For certes, every floryn in his cofre is his mawmet.

750 And certes, the synne of mawmettrie is the firste thyng

750A that God deffended in the ten comaundementz, as bereth witnesse in Exodi capitulo vicesimo:

"Thou shalt have no false goddes bifore me, ne thou shalt make to thee no grave thyng."

Thus is an avaricious man, that loveth his tresor biforn God, an ydolastre,

thurgh this cursed synne of avarice. Of Coveitise comen thise harde lordshipes,

thurgh whiche men been distreyned by taylages, custumes, and cariages, moore than hire duetee or resoun is.

And eek taken they of hire bonde-men amercimentz, whiche myghten moore resonably ben cleped extorcions than amercimentz.

Of whiche amercimentz and raunsonynge of boonde-men somme lordes stywardes seyn that it is rightful,

for as muche as a cherl hath no temporeel thyng that it ne is his lordes, as they seyn.

But certes, thise lord-shipes doon wrong

that bireven hire bonde-folk thynges that they nevere yave hem. Augustinus, De Civitate libro nono.

"Sooth is that the condicioun of thraldom and the firste cause of thraldom is for synne. Genesis nono.

Thus may ye seen that the gilt disserveth thraldom, but nat nature."

Wherfore thise lordes ne sholde nat muche glorifien hem in hir lordshipes,

sith that by natureel condicion they been nat lordes over thralles, but that thraldom comth first by the desert of synne.

And forther over, ther as the lawe seith that temporeel goodes of boonde-folk been the goodes of hir lordshipes, ye,

that is for to understonde, the goodes of the emperour, to deffenden hem in hir right,

but nat for to robben hem ne reven hem.

And therfore seith Seneca, "Thy prudence sholde lyve benignely with thy thralles."

760 Thilke that thou clepest thy thralles been Goddes peple, for humble folk been Cristes freendes; they been contubernyal with the Lord.

Thynk eek that of swich seed as cherles spryngen, of swich seed spryngen lordes.

As wel may the cherl be saved as the lord.

The same deeth that taketh the cherl, swich deeth taketh the lord.

Wherfore I rede, do right so with thy cherl, as thou woldest that thy lord dide with thee,

if thou were in his plit.

Every synful man is a cherl to synne. I rede thee, certes, that thou, lord,

werke in swich wise with thy cherles that they rather love thee than drede.

I woot wel ther is degree above degree, as reson is,

and skile is that men do hir devoir ther as it is due,

but certes, extorcions and despit of youre underlynges is dampnable.

And forther over, understoond wel that thise conquerours or tirauntz maken ful ofte thralles

of hem that been born of as roial blood as been they that hem conqueren.

This name of thraldom was nevere erst kowth til

that Noe seyde that his sone Canaan sholde be thral to his bretheren for his synne.

What seye we thanne of hem that pilen and doon extorcions to hooly chirche?

Certes, the swerd that men yeven first to a knyght, whan he is newe dubbed, signifieth that he sholde deffenden hooly chirche,

and nat robben it ne pilen it; and whoso dooth is traitour to Crist.

And, as seith Seint Augustyn, "They been the develes wolves that stranglen the sheep of Jhesu Crist," and doon worse than wolves.

For soothly, whan the wolf hath ful his wombe, he stynteth to strangle sheep.

But soothly, the pilours and destroyours of the godes of hooly chirche ne do nat so, for they ne stynte nevere to pile.

770 Now as I have seyd, sith so is that synne was first cause of thraldom, thanne is it thus:

770A that thilke tyme that al this world was in synne, thanne was al this world in thraldom and subjeccioun.

But certes, sith the time of grace cam, God ordeyned that som folk sholde be moore heigh in estaat and in degree,

and som folk moore lough, and that everich sholde be served in his estaat and in his degree.

And therfore in somme contrees, ther they byen thralles, whan they han turned hem to the feith,

they maken hire thralles free out of thraldom. And therfore,

certes, the lord oweth to his man that the man oweth to his lord.

The Pope calleth hymself servant of the servantz of God; but

for as muche as the estaat of hooly chirche ne myghte nat han be, ne the commune profit myghte nat han be kept,

ne pees and rest in erthe, but if God hadde ordeyned that som men hadde hyer degree and som men lower,

therfore was sovereyntee ordeyned, to kepe and mayntene and deffenden hire underlynges or hire subgetz in resoun,

as ferforth as it lith in hire power, and nat to destroyen hem ne confounde.

Wherfore I seye that thilke lordes that been lyk wolves,

that devouren the possessiouns or the catel of povre folk wrongfully, withouten mercy or mesure,

they shul receyven by the same mesure that they han mesured to povre folk the

mercy of Jhesu Crist, but if it be amended.

Now comth deceite bitwixe marchaunt and marchant. And thow shalt understonde that marchandise is in manye maneres;

that oon is bodily, and that oother is goostly; that oon is honest and leveful, and that oother is deshonest and unleveful.

Of thilke bodily marchandise that is leveful and honest is this:

that, there as God hath ordeyned that a regne or a contree is suffisaunt to hymself,

thanne is it honest and leveful that of habundaunce of this contree, that men helpe another contree that is moore nedy.

And therfore ther moote been marchantz to bryngen fro that o contree to that oother hire marchandises.

780 That oother marchandise, that men haunten with fraude and trecherie and deceite, with lesynges and false othes, is cursed and dampnable.

Espiritueel marchandise is proprely symonye, that is ententif desir to byen thyng espiritueel;

that is, thyng that aperteneth to the seintuarie of God and to cure of the soule.

This desir, if so be that a man do his diligence to parfournen it,

al be it that his desir ne take noon effect, yet is it to hym a deedly synne;

and if he be ordred, he is irreguleer.

Certes symonye is cleped of Simon Magus, that wolde han boght for temporeel catel

the yifte that God hadde yeven by the Hooly Goost to Seint Peter and to the apostles.

And therfore understoond that bothe he that selleth and he that beyeth thynges espirituels been cleped symonyals,

be it by catel, be it by procurynge, or by flesshly preyere of his freendes, flesshly freendes or espiritueel freendes:

Flesshly in two maneres; as by kynrede, or othere freendes. Soothly, if they praye for hym that is nat worthy and able,

it is symonye, if he take the benefice; and if he be worthy and able, ther nys noon.

That oother manere is whan men or wommen preyen for folk to avauncen hem,

oonly for wikked flesshly affeccioun that they han unto the persone, and that is foul symonye.

But certes, in service, for which men yeven thynges espirituels unto hir servantz, it moot been understonde that

the service moot been honest and elles nat; and eek that it be withouten bargaynynge, and that the persone be able.

For, as seith Seint Damasie, "Alle the synnes of the world, at regard of this synne, arn as thyng of noght."

For it is the gretteste synne that may be, after the synne of Lucifer and Antecrist.

For by this synne God forleseth the chirche and the soule that he boghte with his precious blood,

by hem that yeven chirches to hem that been nat digne.

790 For they putten in theves that stelen the soules of Jhesu Crist and destroyen his patrimoyne.

By swiche undigne preestes and curates han lewed men the lasse reverence of the sacramentz of hooly chirche,

and swiche yeveres of chirches putten out the children of Crist and putten into the chirche the develes owene sone.

They sellen the soules that lambes sholde kepen to the wolf that strangleth hem.

And therfore shul they nevere han part of the pasture of lambes, that is the blisse of hevene.

Now comth hasardrie with his apurtenaunces, as tables and rafles, of which comth deceite, false othes, chidynges, and alle ravynes,

blasphemynge and reneiynge of God, and hate of his neighebores, wast of goodes, mysspendynge of tyme, and somtyme manslaughtre.

Certes, hasardours ne mowe nat been withouten greet synne whiles they haunte that craft.

Of Avarice comen eek lesynges, thefte, fals witnesse, and false othes.

And ye shul understonde that thise been grete synnes and expres agayn the comaundementz of God, as I have seyd.

Fals witnesse is in word and eek in dede. In word, as for to bireve thy neighebores goode name by thy fals witnessyng,

or bireven hym his catel or his heritage by thy fals witnessyng, whan thou for ire, or for meede,

or for envye, berest fals witnesse, or accusest hym or excusest hym by thy fals witnesse, or elles excusest thyself falsly.

Ware yow, questemongeres and notaries! Certes, for fals witnessyng was Susanna in ful gret sorwe and peyne, and many another mo.

The synne of thefte is eek expres agayns Goddes heeste, and that in two maneres, corporeel or spiritueel.

Corporeel, as for to take thy neighebores catel agayn his wyl,

be it by force or by sleighte, be it by met or by mesure;

800 by stelyng eek of false enditementz upon hym, and in borwynge of thy neighebores catel,

800A in entente nevere to payen it agayn, and semblable thynges.

Espiritueel thefte is sacrilege; that is to seyn, hurtynge of hooly thynges, or of thynges sacred to Crist, in two maneres:

by reson of the hooly place, as chirches or chirche-hawes,

for which every vileyns synne that men doon in swiche places may be cleped sacrilege, or every violence in the semblable places;

also, they that withdrawen falsly the rightes that longen to hooly chirche.

And pleynly and generally, sacrilege is to reven hooly thyng fro hooly place,

or unhooly thyng out of hooly place, or hooly thing out of unhooly place.

Now shul ye understonde that the releevynge of Avarice is misericorde, and pitee largely taken.

And men myghten axe why that misericorde and pitee is releevynge of Avarice.

Certes, the avricious man sheweth no pitee ne misericorde to the nedeful man, for he deliteth hym

in the kepynge of his tresor, and nat in the rescowynge ne releevynge of his evene-Cristen. And therfore speke I first of misericorde.

Thanne is misericorde, as seith the Philosophre, a vertu

by which the corage of a man is stired by the mysese of hym that is mysesed.

Upon which misericorde folweth pitee in parfournynge of charitable werkes of misericorde.

And certes, thise thynges moeven a man to the misericorde of Jhesu Crist,

that he yaf hymself for oure gilt, and suffred deeth for misericorde, and forgaf us oure originale synnes,

and therby relessed us fro the peynes of helle, and amenused the peynes of purgatorie by penitence,

and yeveth grace wel to do, and atte laste the blisse of hevene.

810 The speces of misericorde been, as for to lene and for to yeve, and to foryeven and relesse,

810A and for to han pitee in herte and compassioun of the meschief of his evene-Cristene, and eek to chastise, there as nede is.

Another manere of remedie agayns avarice is resonable largesse; but soothly, heere bihoveth the consideracioun of the grace of Jhesu Crist,

and of his temporeel goodes, and eek of the goodes perdurables that Crist yaf to us;

and to han remembrance of the deeth that he shal receyve, he noot whanne, where, ne how;

and eek that he shal forgon al that he hath, save oonly that he hath despended in goode werkes.

But for as muche as som folk been unmesurable, men oghten eschue fool-largesse, that men clepen wast.

Certes, he that is fool-large ne yeveth nat his catel, but he leseth his catel.

Soothly, what thyng that he yeveth for veyne glorie, as to mynstrals and to folk for to beren his renoun

in the world, he hath synne therof and noon almesse.

Certes, he leseth foule his good that ne seketh with the yifte of his good nothyng but synne.

He is lyk to an hors that seketh

rather to drynken drovy or trouble water than for to drynken water of the clere welle.

And for as muchel as they yeven ther as they sholde nat yeven, to hem aperteneth

thilke malisoun that Crist shal yeven at the day of doom to hem that shullen been dampned.

After Avarice comth Glotonye, which is expres eek agayn the comandement of God. Glotonye is unmesurable appetit to ete or to drynke,

or elles to doon ynogh to the unmesurable appetit and desordeynee coveitise to eten or to drynke.

This synne corrumped al this world, as is wel shewed in the synne of Adam and of Eve.

Looke eek what seith Seint Paul of Glotonye:

820 "Manye," seith Saint Paul, "goon, of whiche I have ofte seyd to yow,

820A and now I seye it wepynge, that been the enemys of the croys of Crist; of whiche the ende is deeth,

820B and of whiche hire wombe is hire god, and hire glorie in confusioun of hem that so savouren erthely thynges."

He that is usaunt to this synne of glotonye, he ne may no synne withstonde.

He moot been in servage of alle vices, for it is the develes hoord ther he hideth hym and resteth.

This synne hath manye speces. The firste is dronkenesse, that is the horrible sepulture of mannes resoun;

and therfore, whan a man is dronken, he hath lost his resoun; and this is deedly synne.

But soothly, whan that a man is nat wont to strong drynke, and peraventure ne knoweth nat the strengthe of the drynke,

or hath feblesse in his heed, or hath travailed, thurgh which he drynketh the moore, al be he sodeynly caught with drynke,

it is no deedly synne, but venyal.

The seconde spece of glotonye is that the spirit of a man wexeth al trouble,

for dronkenesse bireveth hym the discrecioun of his wit.

The thridde spece of glotonye is whan a man devoureth his mete and hath no rightful manere of etynge.

The fourthe is whan, thurgh the grete habundaunce of his mete, the humours in his body been distempred.

The fifthe is foryetelnesse by to muchel drynkynge, for which somtyme

a man foryeteth er the morwe what he dide at even, or on the nyght biforn.

In oother manere been distinct the speces of Glotonye, after Seint Gregorie. The firste is for to ete biforn tyme to ete.

The seconde is whan a man get hym to delicaat mete or drynke.

The thridde is whan men taken to muche over mesure. The fourthe is curiositee, with greet entente to maken and apparaillen his mete.

The fifthe is for to eten to gredily.

830 Thise been the fyve fyngres of the develes hand, by whiche he draweth folk to synne.

Agayns Glotonye is the remedie abstinence, as seith Galien; but that holde I nat meritorie,

if he do it oonly for the heele of his body. Seint Augustyn wole that abstinence be doon for vertu and with pacience.

"Abstinence," he seith, "is litel worth but if a man have good wil therto,

and but it be enforced by pacience and by charitee, and that men doon it for Godes sake,

and in hope to have the blisse of hevene."

The felawes of abstinence been attemperaunce, that holdeth the meene in alle thynges; eek shame, that eschueth alle deshonestee;

suffisance, that seketh no riche metes ne drynkes, ne dooth no fors of to outrageous apparailynge of mete;

mesure also, that restreyneth by resoun the deslavee appetit of etynge; sobrenesse also, that restreyneth the outrage of drynke;

sparynge also, that restreyneth the delicaat ese to sitte longe at his mete and softely,

wherfore some folk stonden of hir owene wyl to eten at the lasse leyser.

After Glotonye thanne comth Lecherie, for thise two synnes been so ny cosyns that ofte tyme they wol nat departe.

God woot, this synne is ful displesaunt thyng to God, for he seyde hymself,

"Do no lecherie." And therfore he putte grete peynes agayns this synne in the olde lawe.

If womman thral were taken in this synne, she sholde be beten with staves to the deeth;

and if she were a gentil womman, she sholde be slayn with

stones; and if she were a bisshoppes doghter, she sholde been brent, by Goddes comandement.

Forther over, by the synne of lecherie God dreynte al the world at the diluge.

And after that he brente fyve citees with thonder-leyt, and sank hem into helle.

840 Now lat us speke thanne of thilke stynkynge synne of Lecherie that men clepe avowtrie of wedded folk;

840A that is to seyn, if that oon of hem be wedded, or elles bothe.

Seint John seith that avowtiers shullen been in helle, in a stank brennynge of fyr and of brymston

-- in fyr for hire lecherye, in brymston for the stynk of hire ordure.

Certes, the brekynge of this sacrement is an horrible thyng.

It was maked of God hymself in paradys, and confermed by Jhesu Crist, as witnesseth Seint Mathew in the gospel:

"A man shal lete fader and mooder and taken hym to his wif, and they shullen be two in o flessh."

This sacrement bitokneth the knyttynge togidre of Crist and of hooly chirche.

And nat oonly that God forbad avowtrie in dede, but eek he comanded that thou sholdest nat coveite thy neighebores wyf.

"In this heeste," seith Seint Augustyn, "is forboden alle manere coveitise to doon lecherie." Lo, what seith Seint Mathew in the gospel, that

"whoso seeth a womman to coveitise of his lust, he hath doon lecherie with hire in his herte."

Heere may ye seen that nat oonly the dede of this synne is forboden, but eek the desir to doon that synne.

This cursed synne anoyeth grevousliche hem that it haunten. And first to hire soule,

for he obligeth it to synne and to peyne of deeth that is perdurable.

Unto the body anoyeth it grevously also, for it dreyeth hym, and wasteth him, and shent hym, and of his blood

he maketh sacrifice to the feend of helle. It wasteth eek his catel and his substaunce.

And certes, if it be a foul thyng a man to waste his catel on wommen,

yet is it a fouler thyng whan that, for swich ordure, wommen dispenden upon men hir catel and substaunce.

850 This synne, as seith the prophete, bireveth man and womman hir goode fame and al hire honour,

850A and it is ful plesaunt to the devel, for therby wynneth he the mooste partie of this world.

And right as a marchant deliteth hym moost in chaffare that he hath moost avantage of,

right so deliteth the fend in this ordure.

This is that oother hand of the devel with fyve fyngres to cacche the peple to his vileynye.

The firste fynger is the fool lookynge of the fool womman and of the fool man; that sleeth, right

as the basilicok sleeth folk by the venym of his sighte, for the coveitise of eyen folweth the coveitise of the herte.

The seconde fynger is the vileyns touchynge in wikkede manere.

And therfore seith Salomon that "whoso toucheth and handleth a womman, he fareth lyk

hym that handleth the scorpioun that styngeth and sodeynly sleeth thurgh his envenymynge"; as whoso toucheth warm pych, it shent his fyngres.

The thridde is foule wordes, that fareth lyk fyr, that right anon brenneth the herte.

The fourthe fynger is the kissynge; and trewely he were a greet fool

that wolde kisse the mouth of a brennynge oven or of a fourneys.

And moore fooles been they that kissen in vileynye, for that mouth is the mouth of helle;

and namely thise olde dotardes holours, yet wol they kisse, though they may nat do, and smatre hem.

Certes, they been lyk to houndes; for an hound, whan he comth by the roser or by othere [bushes],

though he may nat pisse, yet wole he heve up his leg and make a contenaunce to pisse.

And for that many man weneth that he may nat synne for no likerousnesse that he dooth with his wyf,

certes, that opinion is fals. God woot, a man may sleen hymself with his owene knyf,

and make hymselve dronken of his owene tonne.

860 Certes, be it wyf, be it child,

860A or any worldly thyng that he loveth biforn God, it is his mawmet, and he is an ydolastre.

Man sholde loven hys wyf by discrecioun, paciently and atemprely, and thanne is she as though it were his suster.

The fifthe fynger of the develes hand is the stynkynge dede of Leccherie.

Certes, the fyve fyngres of Glotonie the feend put in the wombe of a man,

and with his fyve fingres of Lecherie he gripeth hym by the reynes for to throwen hym into the fourneys of helle,

ther as they shul han the fyr and the wormes that evere shul lasten, and wepynge and wailynge, sharp hunger and thurst,

[and] grymnesse of develes, that shullen al totrede hem withouten respit and withouten ende.

Of Leccherie, as I seyde, sourden diverse speces, as fornicacioun, that is bitwixe man and womman that been nat maried,

and this is deedly synne and agayns nature.

Al that is enemy and destruccioun to nature is agayns nature.

Parfay, the resoun of a man telleth eek hym wel that it is deedly synne, for as muche as God forbad leccherie.

And Seint Paul yeveth hem the regne that nys dewe to no wight but to hem that doon deedly synne.

Another synne of Leccherie is to bireve a mayden of hir maydenhede, for he that so dooth,

certes, he casteth a mayden out of the hyeste degree that is in this present lif

and bireveth hire thilke precious fruyt that the book clepeth the hundred fruyt.

I ne kan seye it noon ootherweyes in Englissh, but in Latyn it highte Centesimus fructus.

870 Certes, he that so dooth is cause of manye damages and vileynyes, mo than any man kan rekene;

870A right as he somtyme is cause of alle damages that beestes don in the feeld, that breketh the hegge or the closure,

870B thurgh which he destroyeth that may nat been restoored.

For certes, namoore may maydenhede be restoored than an arm that is smyten fro the body may retourne agayn to wexe.

She may have mercy, this woot I wel, if she do penitence; but nevere shal it be that she nas corrupt.

And al be it so that I have spoken somwhat of avowtrie,

it is good to shewen mo perils that longen to avowtrie, for to eschue that foule synne.

Avowtrie in Latyn is for to seyn approchynge of oother mannes bed,

thurgh which tho that whilom weren o flessh abawndone hir bodyes to othere persones.

Of this synne, as seith the wise man, folwen manye harmes.

First, brekynge of feith, and certes in feith is the keye of Cristendom.

And whan that feith is broken and lorn, soothly Cristendom stant veyn and withouten fruyt.

This synne is eek a thefte, for thefte generally is for to reve a wight his thyng agayns his wille.

Certes, this is the fouleste thefte that may be, whan a womman steleth hir body from hir housbonde

and yeveth it to hire holour to defoulen hire, and steleth hir soule fro Crist and yeveth it to the devel.

This is a fouler thefte than for to breke a chirche and stele the chalice,

for thise avowtiers breken the temple of God spiritually, and stelen the vessel of grace, that is the body and the soule,

for which Crist shal destroyen hem, as seith Seint Paul.

880 Soothly, of this thefte douted gretly Joseph, whan that his lordes wyf preyed hym of vileynye, whan he seyde,

880A "Lo, my lady, how my lord hath take to me under my warde al that he hath in this world,

880B ne no thyng of his thynges is out of my power, but oonly ye, that been his wyf.

And how sholde I thanne do this wikkednesse, and synne so horribly agayns God and agayns my lord?

God it forbeede!" Allas, al to litel is swich trouthe now yfounde.

The thridde harm is the filthe thurgh which they breken the comandement of God, and defoulen the auctour of matrimoyne, that is Crist.

For certes, in so muche as the sacrement of mariage is so noble and so digne, so muche is it gretter synne

for to breken it, for God made mariage in paradys, in the estaat of innocence, to multiplye mankynde to the service of God.

And therfore is the brekynge therof the moore grevous; of which brekynge comen false heires ofte tyme, that wrongfully ocupien folkes heritages.

And therfore wol Crist putte hem out of the regne of hevene, that is heritage to goode folk.

Of this brekynge comth eek ofte tyme that folk unwar wedden or synnen with hire owene kynrede, and namely thilke harlotes that haunten

bordels of thise fool wommen, that mowe be likned to a commune gong, where as men purgen hire ordure.

What seye we eek of putours that lyven by the horrible synne of putrie, and constreyne wommen to yelden hem a certeyn rente

of hire bodily puterie, ye, somtyme of his owene wyf or his child, as doon thise bawdes? Certes, thise been cursede synnes.

Understoond eek that Avowtrie is set gladly in the ten comandementz bitwixe thefte and manslaughtre;

for it is the gretteste thefte that may be, for it is thefte of body and of soule.

And it is lyk to homycide, for it kerveth atwo and breketh atwo hem that first were maked o flessh.

And therfore, by the olde lawe of God, they sholde be slayn.

But nathelees, by the lawe of Jhesu Crist, that is lawe of pitee, whan he seyde to the womman

that was founden in avowtrie, and sholde han been slayn with stones, after the wyl of the Jewes, as was hir lawe,

"Go," quod Jhesu Crist, "and have namoore wyl to synne," or, "wille namoore to do synne."

890 Soothly the vengeaunce of Avowtrie is awarded to the peynes of helle, but if so be that it be destourbed by penitence.

Yet been ther mo speces of this cursed synne; as whan that oon of hem is religious, or elles bothe;

or of folk that been entred into ordre, as subdekne, or dekne, or preest, or hospitaliers.

And evere the hyer that he is in ordre, the gretter is the synne.

The thynges that gretly agreggen hire synne is the brekynge of hire avow of chastitee, whan they receyved the ordre.

And forther over, sooth is that hooly ordre is chief of al the tresorie of God

and his especial signe and mark of chastitee to shewe that they been joyned to chastitee,

which that is the moost precious lyf that is.

And thise ordred folk been specially titled to God, and of the special meignee of God,

for which, whan they doon deedly synne, they been the special traytours of God and of his peple;

for they lyven of the peple, to preye for the peple,

and while they ben suche traitours, here preyer avayleth nat to the peple.

Preestes been aungels, as by the dignitee of hir mysterye;

but for sothe, Seint Paul seith that Sathanas transformeth hym in an aungel of light.

Soothly, the preest that haunteth deedly synne, he may be likned to the aungel of derknesse transformed in the aungel of light.

He semeth aungel of light, but for sothe he is aungel of derknesse.

Swiche preestes been the sones of Helie,

as sheweth in the Book of Kynges, that they weren the sones of Belial -- that is, the devel.

Belial is to seyn, "withouten juge." And so faren they; hem thynketh they been free and han no juge,

namoore than hath a free bole that taketh which cow that hym liketh in the town.

So faren they by wommen. For right as a free bole is ynough for al a toun,

right so is a wikked preest corrupcioun ynough for al a parisshe, or for al a contree.

900 Thise preestes, as seith the book, ne konne nat the mysterie of preesthod to the peple, ne God ne knowe they nat.

900A They ne helde hem nat apayd, as seith the book, of soden flessh that was to hem offred,

900B but they tooke by force the flessh that is rawe.

Certes, so thise shrewes ne holden hem nat apayed of roosted flessh and sode flessh,

with which the peple feden hem in greet reverence, but they wole have raw flessh of folkes wyves and hir doghtres.

And certes, thise wommen that consenten to hire harlotrie doon greet wrong to Crist,

and to hooly chirche, and alle halwes, and to alle soules;

for they bireven alle thise hym that sholde worshipe Crist and hooly chirche and preye for Cristene soules.

And therfore han swiche preestes, and hire lemmanes eek that consenten to hir leccherie,

the malisoun of al the court Cristien, til they come to amendement.

The thridde spece of avowtrie is somtyme bitwixe a man and his wyf, and that is

whan they take no reward in hire assemblynge but oonly to hire flesshly delit, as seith Seint Jerome,

and ne rekken of nothyng but that they been assembled;

by cause that they been maried, al is good ynough, as thynketh to hem.

But in swich folk hath the devel power, as seyde the aungel Raphael to Thobie,

for in hire assemblynge they putten Jhesu Crist out of hire herte and yeven hemself to alle ordure.

The fourthe spece is the assemblee of hem that been of hire kynrede, or of hem that been of oon affynytee,

or elles with hem with whiche hir fadres or hir kynrede han deled in the synne of lecherie.

This synne maketh hem lyk to houndes, that taken no kep to kynrede.

And certes, parentele is in two maneres, outher goostly or flesshly; goostly, as for to deelen with his godsibbes.

For right so as he that engendreth a child is his flesshly fader, right so is his godfader his fader espiritueel.

For which a womman may in no lasse synne assemblen with hire godsib than with hire owene flesshly brother.

910 The fifthe spece is thilke abhomynable synne, of which that no man unnethe oghte speke ne write;

910A nathelees it is openly reherced in holy writ.

This cursednesse doon men and wommen in diverse entente and in diverse manere; but though that hooly writ speke of horrible synne,

certes hooly writ may nat been defouled, namoore than the sonne that shyneth on the mixne.

Another synne aperteneth to leccherie, that comth in slepynge, and this synne cometh ofte to hem that been maydenes,

and eek to hem that been corrupt; and this synne men clepen polucioun, that comth in foure maneres.

Somtyme of langwissynge of body, for the humours been to ranke and to habundaunt in the body of man;

somtyme of infermetee, for the fieblesse of the vertu retentif, as phisik maketh mencion; somtyme for surfeet of mete and drynke;

and somtyme of vileyns thoghtes that been enclosed in mannes mynde whan he gooth to slepe, which may nat been withoute synne;

for which men moste kepen hem wisely, or elles may men synnen ful grevously.

Now comth the remedie agayns Leccherie, and that is generally chastitee and continence,

that restreyneth alle the desordeynee moevynges that comen of flesshly talentes.

And evere the gretter merite shal he han that moost restreyneth the wikkede eschawfynges of the [ardour] of this synne.

And this is in two maneres -- that is to seyn, chastitee in mariage, and chastitee of widwehod.

Now shaltow understonde that matrimoyne is leefful assemblynge of man and of womman that receyven by vertu of the sacrement the boond

thurgh which they may nat be departed in al hir lyf -- that is to seyn, whil that they lyven bothe.

This, as seith the book, is a ful greet sacrement.

God maked it, as I have seyd, in paradys, and wolde hymself be born in mariage.

And for to halwen mariage he was at a weddynge, where as he turned water into wyn,

which was the firste miracle that he wroghte in erthe biforn his disciples.

920 Trewe effect of mariage clenseth fornicacioun and replenysseth hooly chirche of good lynage, for that is the ende of mariage;

920A and it chaungeth deedly synne into venial synne bitwixe hem that been ywedded,

920B and maketh the hertes al oon of hem that been ywedded, as wel as the bodies.

This is verray mariage, that was establissed by God, er that synne bigan, whan natureel lawe was in his right poynt in paradys;

and it was ordeyned that o man sholde have but o womman, and o womman but o man,

as seith Seint Augustyn, by manye resouns.

First, for mariage is figured bitwixe Crist and holy chirche. And that oother is for a man is heved of a womman;

algate, by ordinaunce it sholde be so.

For if a womman hadde mo men than oon, thanne sholde she have moo hevedes than oon, and

that were an horrible thyng biforn God; and eek a womman ne myghte nat plese to many folk at oones.

And also ther ne sholde nevere be pees ne reste amonges hem, for everich wolde axen his owene thyng.

And forther over, no man ne sholde knowe his owene engendrure, ne who sholde have his heritage;

and the womman sholde been the lasse biloved fro the tyme that she were conjoynt to many men.

Now comth how that a man sholde bere hym with his wif, and namely in two thynges;

that is to seyn, in suffraunce and reverence, as shewed Crist whan he made first womman.

For he ne made hire nat of the heved of Adam, for she sholde nat clayme to greet lordshipe.

For ther as the womman hath the maistrie, she maketh to muche desray.

Ther neden none ensamples of this; the experience of day by day oghte suffise.

Also, certes, God ne made nat womman of the foot of Adam, for she ne sholde nat been holden to lowe;

for she kan nat paciently suffre. But God made womman of the ryb of Adam, for womman sholde be felawe unto man.

Man sholde bere hym to his wyf in feith, in trouthe, and in love,

as seith Seint Paul, that a man sholde loven his wyf as Crist loved hooly chirche,

that loved it so wel that he deyde for it. So sholde a man for his wyf, if it were nede.

930 Now how that a womman sholde be subget to hire housbonde, that telleth Seint Peter. First, in obedience.

And eek, as seith the decree, a womman that is wyf, as longe as she is a wyf,

she hath noon auctoritee to swere ne to bere witnesse withoute leve of hir housbonde,

that is hire lord; algate, he sholde be so by resoun.

She sholde eek serven hym in alle honestee, and been attempree of hire array.

I woot wel that they sholde setten hire entente to plesen hir housbondes, but nat by hire queyntise of array.

Seint Jerome seith that "wyves that been apparailled in silk and in precious purpre ne mowe nat clothen hem in Jhesu Crist."

Loke what seith Seint John eek in thys matere?

Seint Gregorie eek seith that "No wight seketh precious array but oonly for veyne glorie, to been honoured the moore biforn the peple."

It is a greet folye, a womman to have a fair array outward and in hirself be foul inward.

A wyf sholde eek be mesurable in lookynge and in berynge and in lawghynge, and discreet in alle hire wordes and hire dedes.

And aboven alle worldly thyng she sholde loven hire housbonde with al hire herte, and to hym be trewe of hir body.

So sholde an housbonde eek be to his wyf. For sith that al the body is the housbondes,

so sholde hire herte been, or elles ther is bitwixe hem two, as in that, no parfit mariage.

Thanne shal men understonde that for thre thynges a man and his wyf flesshly mowen assemble.

The firste is in entente of engendrure of children to the service of God, for certes that is the cause final of matrimoyne.

940 Another cause is to yelden everich of hem to oother the dette of hire bodies,

940A for neither of hem hath power of his owene body. The thridde is for to eschewe leccherye and vileynye.

940B The ferthe is for sothe deedly synne.

As to the firste, it is meritorie; the seconde also, for, as seith the decree, that

she hath merite of chastitee that yeldeth to hire housbonde the dette of hir body,

ye, though it be agayn hir likynge and the lust of hire herte.

The thridde manere is venyal synne; and, trewely, scarsly may ther any of thise be withoute venial synne,

for the corrupcion and for the delit.

The fourthe manere is for to understonde, as if they assemble oonly for amorous love and for noon of the foreseyde causes,

but for to accomplice thilke brennynge delit, they rekke nevere how ofte.

Soothly it is deedly synne; and yet, with sorwe, somme folk wol peynen hem moore to doon than to hire appetit suffiseth.

The seconde manere of chastitee is for to been a clene wydewe,

and eschue the embracynges of man, and desiren the embracynge of Jhesu Crist.

Thise been tho that han been wyves and han forgoon hire housbondes,

and eek wommen that han doon leccherie and been releeved by penitence.

And certes, if that a wyf koude kepen hire al chaast by licence of hir housbonde,

so that she yeve nevere noon occasion that he agilte, it were to hire a greet merite.

Thise manere wommen that observen chastitee moste be clene in herte as wel as in body and in thought,

and mesurable in clothynge and in contenaunce, and been abstinent in etynge and drynkynge, in spekynge, and in dede.

They been the vessel or the boyste of the blissed Magdelene, that fulfilleth hooly chirche of good odour.

The thridde manere of chastitee is virginitee, and it bihoveth that she be hooly in herte and clene of body.

Thanne is she spouse to Jhesu Crist, and she is the lyf of angeles.

She is the preisynge of this world, and she is as thise martirs in egalitee;

she hath in hire that tonge may nat telle ne herte thynke.

950 Virginitee baar oure Lord Jhesu Crist, and virgine was hymselve.

Another remedie agayns Leccherie is specially to withdrawen swiche thynges as yeve occasion to thilke vileynye, as ese, etynge, and drynkynge.

For certes, whan the pot boyleth strongly, the beste remedie is to withdrawe the fyr.

Slepynge longe in greet quiete is eek a greet norice to Leccherie.

Another remedie agayns Leccherie is that a man or a womman eschue the compaignye of hem

by whiche he douteth to be tempted, for al be it so that the dede be withstonden, yet is ther greet temptacioun.

Soothly, a whit wal, although it ne brenne noght fully by stikynge of a candele, yet is the wal blak of the leyt.

Ful ofte tyme I rede that no man truste in his owene perfeccioun,

but he be stronger than Sampson, and hoolier than David, and wiser than Salomon.

Now after that I have declared yow, as I kan, the sevene deedly synnes,

and somme of hire braunches and hire remedies, soothly, if I koude, I wolde telle yow the ten comandementz.

But so heigh a doctrine I lete to divines. Nathelees, I hope to God,

they been touched in this tretice, everich of hem alle.

Now for as muche as the seconde partie of Penitence stant in confessioun of mouth,

as I bigan in the firste chapitre, I seye, Seint Augustyn seith,

"Synne is every word and every dede, and al that men coveiten, agayn the lawe of Jhesu Crist;

and this is for to synne in herte, in mouth, and in dede, by thy fyve wittes,

that been sighte, herynge, smellynge, tastynge or savourynge, and feelynge."

960 Now is it good to understonde the circumstances that agreggen muchel every synne.

Thou shalt considere what thow art that doost the synne,

wheither thou be male or femele, yong or oold, gentil or thral,

free or servant, hool or syk, wedded or sengle, ordred or unordred, wys or fool, clerk or seculeer;

if she be of thy kynrede, bodily or goostly, or noon;

if any of thy kynrede have synned with hire, or noon; and manye mo thinges.

Another circumstaunce is this: wheither it be doon in fornicacioun or in avowtrie or noon, incest or noon, mayden or noon,

in manere of homicide or noon, horrible grete synnes or smale, and how longe thou hast continued in synne.

The thridde circumstaunce is the place ther thou hast do synne, wheither in oother mennes hous or in thyn owene,

in feeld or in chirche or in chirchehawe, in chirche dedicaat or noon.

For if the chirche be halwed, and man or womman

spille his kynde inwith that place by wey of synne or by wikked temptacioun,

the chirche is entredited til it be reconsiled by the bysshop.

And the preest sholde be enterdited that dide swich a vileynye; to terme of al his lif he sholde namoore synge masse,

and if he dide, he sholde doon deedly synne at every time that he so songe masse.

The fourthe circumstaunce is by whiche mediatours, or by whiche messagers, as for enticement, or for consentement to bere compaignye with felaweshipe;

for many a wrecche, for to bere compaignye, wol go to the devel of helle.

Wherfore they that eggen or consenten to the synne been parteners of the synne, and of the dampnacioun of the synnere.

The fifthe circumstaunce is how manye tymes that he hath synned,

if it be in his mynde, and how ofte that he hath falle.

970 For he that ofte falleth in synne, he despiseth the mercy of God, and encreesseth hys synne, and is unkynde to Crist;

970A and he wexeth the moore fieble to withstonde synne, and synneth the moore lightly,

and the latter ariseth, and is the moore eschew for to shryven hym, and namely, to hym that is his confessour.

For which that folk, whan they falle agayn in hir olde folies, outher they forleten hir olde confessours al outrely

or elles they departen hir shrift in diverse places; but soothly, swich departed shrift deserveth no mercy of God of his synnes.

The sixte circumstaunce is why that a man synneth, as by which temptacioun, and if hymself procure thilke temptacioun,

or by the excitynge of oother folk; or if he synne with a womman by force, or by hire owene assent;

or if the womman, maugree hir hed, hath been afforced, or noon. This shal she telle:

for coveitise, or for poverte, and if it was hire procurynge, or noon; and swich manere harneys.

The seventhe circumstaunce is in what manere he hath doon his synne,

or how that she hath suffred that folk han doon to hire.

And the same shal the man telle pleynly with alle circumstaunces; and wheither he hath synned with comune bordel wommen or noon,

or doon his synne in hooly tymes or noon, in fastyng tymes or noon, or biforn his shrifte, or after his latter shrifte,

and hath peraventure broken therfore his penance enjoyned, by whos help and whos conseil, by sorcerie or craft; al moste be toold.

Alle thise thynges, after that they been grete or smale, engreggen the conscience of man.

And eek the preest, that is thy juge, may the bettre been avysed of his juggement

in yevynge of thy penaunce, and that is after thy contricioun.

980 For understond wel that after tyme that a man hath defouled his baptesme by synne,

980A if he wole come to salvacioun, ther is noon other wey but by penitence and shrifte and satisfaccioun,

and namely by the two, if ther be a confessour to which he may shriven hym,

and the thridde, if he have lyf to parfournen it.

Thanne shal man looke and considere that if he wole maken a trewe and a profitable confessioun, ther moste be foure condiciouns.

First, it moot been in sorweful bitternesse of herte, as seyde the kyng Ezechias to God,

"I wol remembre me alle the yeres of my lif in bitternesse of myn herte."

This condicioun of bitternesse hath fyve signes. The firste is that confessioun moste be shamefast, nat for to covere ne hyden his synne,

for he hath agilt his God and defouled his soule.

And herof seith Seint Augustyn, "The herte travailleth for shame of his synne";

and for he hath greet shamefastnesse, he is digne to have greet mercy of God.

Swich was the confessioun of the publican that wolde nat heven up his eyen to hevene,

for he hadde offended God of hevene; for which shamefastnesse he hadde anon the mercy of God.

And therof seith Seint Augustyn that swich shamefast folk been next foryevenesse and remissioun.

Another signe is humylitee in confessioun, of which seith Seint Peter,

"Humbleth yow under the myght of God." The hond of God is myghty in confessioun, for

therby God foryeveth thee thy synnes, for he allone hath the power.

And this humylitee shal been in herte and in signe outward, for right as he hath humylitee to God in his herte,

right so sholde he humble his body outward to the preest, that sit in Goddes place.

990 For which in no manere, sith that Crist is sovereyn, and the preest meene and mediatour bitwixe Crist and the synnere,

990A and the synnere is the laste by wey of resoun,

thanne sholde nat the synnere sitte as heighe as his confessour, but knele biforn hym or at his feet,

but if maladie destourbe it. For he shal nat taken kep who sit there, but in whos place that he sitteth.

A man that hath trespased to a lord, and comth for to axe mercy and maken his accord,

and set him doun anon by the lord,

men wolde holden hym outrageous, and nat worthy so soone for to have remissioun ne mercy.

The thridde signe is how that thy shrift sholde be ful of teeris, if man may,

and if man may nat wepe with his bodily eyen, lat hym wepe in herte.

Swich was the confession of Seint Peter, for after that he hadde forsake Jhesu Crist, he wente out and weep ful bitterly.

The fourthe signe is that he ne lette nat for shame to shewen his confessioun.

Swich was the confessioun of the Magdalene, that ne spared for no shame of hem

that weren atte feeste, for to go to oure Lord Jhesu Crist and biknowe to hym hire synne.

The fifthe signe is that a man or a womman be obeisant to receyven the penaunce that hym is enjoyned for his synnes,

for certes, Jhesu Crist, for the giltes of o man, was obedient to the deeth.

The seconde condicion of verray confession is that it be hastily doon.

For certes, if a man hadde a deedly wounde, evere the lenger that he taried to warisshe hymself,

the moore wolde it corrupte and haste hym to his deeth, and eek the wounde wolde be the wors for to heele.

And right so fareth synne that longe tyme is in a man unshewed.

1000 Certes, a man oghte hastily shewen his synnes for manye causes; as for drede of deeth, that cometh ofte sodeynly,

1000A and no certeyn what tyme it shal be, ne in what place; and eek the drecchynge of o synne draweth in another;

and eek the lenger that he tarieth, the ferther he is fro Crist. And if he abide to his laste day, scarsly

may he shryven hym or remembre hym of his synnes or repenten hym, for the grevous maladie of his deeth.

And for as muche as he ne hath nat in his lyf herkned Jhesu Crist

whanne he hath spoken, he shal crie to Jhesu Crist at his laste day, and scarsly wol he herkne hym.

And understond that this condicioun moste han foure thynges. Thi shrift moste be purveyed bifore and avysed;

for wikked haste dooth no profit; and that a man konne shryve hym of his synnes,

be it of pride, or of envye, and so forth with the speces and circumstances;

and that he have comprehended in hys mynde the nombre and the greetnesse of his synnes,

and how longe that he hath leyn in synne;

and eek that he be contrit of his synnes, and in stidefast purpos,

by the grace of God, nevere eft to falle in synne;

and eek that he drede and countrewaite hymself, that he fle the occasiouns of synne to whiche he is enclyned.

Also thou shalt shryve thee of alle thy synnes to o man, and nat a parcel to o man and a parcel to another;

that is to understonde, in entente to departe thy confessioun, as for shame or drede, for it nys but stranglynge of thy soule.

For certes Jhesu Crist is entierly al good; in hym nys noon imperfeccioun,

and therfore outher he foryeveth al parfitly or elles never a deel.

I seye nat that if thow be assigned to the penitauncer for certein synne,

that thow art bounde to shewen hym al the remenaunt of thy synnes, of whiche thow hast be shryven of thy curaat,

but if it like to thee of thyn humylitee; this is no departynge of shrifte.

Ne I seye nat, ther as I speke of divisioun of confessioun, that if thou have licence

for to shryve thee to a discreet and an honest preest, where thee liketh, and by licence of thy curaat,

that thow ne mayst wel shryve thee to him of alle thy synnes.

1010 But lat no blotte be bihynde; lat no synne been untoold, as fer as thow hast remembraunce.

And whan thou shalt be shryven to thy curaat, telle hym eek alle the synnes that thow hast doon

syn thou were last yshryven; this is no wikked entente of divisioun of shrifte.

Also the verray shrifte axeth certeine condiciouns. First, that thow shryve thee by thy free wil,

noght constreyned, ne for shame of folk, ne for maladie, ne swiche thynges.

For it is resoun that he that trespaseth by his free wyl, that by his free wyl he confesse his trespas,

and that noon oother man telle his synne but he hymself;

ne he shal nat nayte ne denye his synne, ne wratthe hym agayn the preest for his amonestynge to lete synne.

The seconde condicioun is that thy shrift be laweful; that is to seyn, that

thow that shryvest thee and eek the preest that hereth thy confessioun been verraily in the feith of hooly chirche,

and that a man ne be nat despeired of the mercy of Jhesu Crist, as Caym or Judas.

And eek a man moot accusen hymself of his owene trespas, and nat another;

but he shal blame and wyten hymself and his owene malice of his synne, and noon oother.

But nathelees, if that another man be occasioun or enticere of his synne,

or the estaat of a persone be swich thurgh which his synne is agregged, or elles that he may nat pleynly shryven

hym but he telle the persone with which he hath synned, thanne may he telle it,

so that his entente ne be nat to bakbite the persone, but oonly to declaren his confessioun.

Thou ne shalt nat eek make no lesynges in thy confessioun, for humylitee,

peraventure, to seyn that thou hast doon synnes of whiche thow were nevere gilty.

1020 For Seint Augustyn seith, "If thou, by cause of thyn humylitee, makest lesynges on thyself,

1020A though thow ne were nat in synne biforn, yet artow thanne in synne thurgh thy lesynges."

Thou most eek shewe thy synne by thyn owene propre mouth, but thow be woxe dowmb, and nat by no lettre;

for thow that hast doon the synne, thou shalt have the shame therfore.

Thow shalt nat eek peynte thy confessioun by faire subtile wordes, to covere the moore thy synne;

for thanne bigilestow thyself, and nat the preest. Thow most tellen it platly, be it nevere so foul ne so horrible.

Thow shalt eek shryve thee to a preest that is discreet to conseille

thee; and eek thou shalt nat shryve thee for veyne glorie, ne for ypocrisye, ne for no cause

but oonly for the doute of Jhesu Crist and the heele of thy soule.

Thow shalt nat eek renne to the preest sodeynly to tellen hym lightly thy synne,

as whoso telleth a jape or a tale, but avysely and with greet devocioun.

And generally, shryve thee ofte. If thou ofte falle, ofte thou arise by confessioun.

And though thou shryve thee ofter than ones of synne of which thou hast be shryven, it is the moore merite.

And, as seith Seint Augustyn, thow shalt have the moore lightly relessyng and grace of God, bothe of synne and of peyne.

And certes, oones a yeere atte leeste wey it is laweful for to been housled, for certes, oones a yeere alle thynges renovellen.

Now have I toold yow of verray Confessioun, that is the seconde partie of Penitence.

The thridde partie of Penitence is Satisfaccioun, and that stant moost generally in almesse and in bodily peyne.

1030 Now been ther thre manere of almesse: contricion of herte, where a man offreth hymself to God;

1030A another is to han pitee of defaute of his neighebores; and the thridde is

1030B in yevynge of good conseil and comfort, goostly and bodily, where men han nede, and namely in sustenaunce of mannes foode.

And tak kep that a man hath nede of thise thinges generally: he hath nede of foode, he hath nede of clothyng and herberwe,

he hath nede of charitable conseil and visitynge in prisone and in maladie, and sepulture of his dede body.

And if thow mayst nat visite the nedeful with thy persone, visite hym by thy message and by thy yiftes.

Thise been general almesses or werkes of charitee

of hem that han temporeel richesses or discrecioun in conseilynge. Of thise werkes shaltow heren at the day of doom.

Thise almesses shaltow doon of thyne owene propre thynges, and hastily and prively, if thow mayst.

But nathelees, if thow mayst nat doon it prively, thow shalt nat forbere to doon almesse though men seen it,

so that it be nat doon for thank of the world, but oonly for thank of Jhesu Crist.

For, as witnesseth Seint Mathew, capitulo quinto, "A citee may nat been hyd that is set on a montayne,

ne men lighte nat a lanterne and put it under a busshel,

but men sette it on a candle-stikke to yeve light to the men in the hous.

Right so shal youre light lighten bifore men, that they may seen youre goode werkes, and glorifie youre fader that is in hevene."

Now as to speken of bodily peyne, it stant in preyeres, in wakynges, in fastynges, in vertuouse techynges of orisouns.

And ye shul understonde that orisouns or preyeres is for to seyn a pitous wyl of herte,

that redresseth it in God and expresseth it by word outward, to remoeven harmes and to han thynges espiritueel and durable,

and somtyme temporele thynges; of whiche orisouns, certes, in the orison of the Pater noster hath Jhesu Crist enclosed moost thynges.

1040 Certes, it is privyleged of thre thynges in his dignytee,

1040A for which it is moore digne than any oother preyere, for that Jhesu Crist hymself maked it;

and it is short, for it sholde be koud the moore lightly, and

for to withholden it the moore esily in herte, and helpen hymself the ofter with the orisoun,

and for a man sholde be the lasse wery to seyen it, and for a man may nat excusen hym to lerne it,

it is so short and so esy, and for it comprehendeth in it self alle goode preyeres.

The exposicioun of this hooly preyere, that is so excellent and digne, I bitake to thise maistres of theologie,

save thus muchel wol I seyn; that whan thow prayest that God sholde foryeve thee thy giltes as

thou foryevest hem that agilten to thee, be ful wel war that thow ne be nat out of charitee.

This hooly orison amenuseth eek venyal synne, and therfore it aperteneth specially to penitence.

This preyere moste be trewely seyd, and in verray feith, and that men preye to God ordinatly and discreetly and devoutly;

and alwey a man shal putten his wyl to be subget to the wille of God.

This orisoun moste eek been seyd with greet humblesse and ful pure, honestly and nat to the anoyaunce of any man or womman.

It moste eek been continued with the werkes of charitee.

It avayleth eek agayn the vices of the soule, for, as seith Seint Jerome,

"By fastynge been saved the vices of the flessh, and by preyere the vices of the soule."

After this, thou shalt understonde that bodily peyne stant in wakynge, for Jhesu Crist seith,

"Waketh and preyeth, that ye ne entre in wikked temptacioun."

Ye shul understanden also that fastynge stant in thre thynges: in forberynge of bodily mete and drynke, and in forberynge of worldly jolitee,

and in forberynge of deedly synne; this is to seyn, that a man shal kepen hym fro deedly synne with al his myght.

1050 And thou shalt understanden eek that God ordeyned fastynge, and to fastynge appertenen foure thinges:

largenesse to povre folk, gladnesse of herte espiritueel, nat to been angry ne anoyed, ne grucche for he fasteth,

and also resonable houre for to ete; ete by mesure; that is for to seyn,

a man shal nat ete in untyme, ne sitte the lenger at his table to ete for he fasteth.

Thanne shaltow understonde that bodily peyne stant in disciplyne or techynge, by word, or by writynge, or in ensample;

also in werynge of heyres, or of stamyn, or of haubergeons on hire naked flessh, for Cristes sake, and swiche manere penances.

But war thee wel that swiche manere penaunces on thy flessh ne make nat thyn herte bitter or angry or anoyed of thyself,

for bettre is to caste awey thyn heyre, than for to caste awey the swetenesse of Jhesu Crist.

And therfore seith Seint Paul, "Clothe yow, as they that been chosen of God, in herte of misericorde, debonairetee, suffraunce,

and swich manere of clothynge," of whiche Jhesu Crist is moore apayed than of heyres, or haubergeouns, or hauberkes.

Thanne is discipline eek in knokkynge of thy brest, in scourgynge with yerdes, in knelynges, in tribulacions,

in suffrynge paciently wronges that been doon to thee,

and eek in pacient suffraunce of maladies, or lesynge of worldly catel, or of wyf, or of child, or othere freendes.

Thanne shaltow understonde whiche thynges destourben penaunce; and this is in foure maneres:

that is, drede, shame, hope, and wanhope, that is desperacion.

And for to speke first of drede, for which he weneth that he may suffre no penaunce;

ther-agayns is remedie for to thynke that bodily penaunce is but short and litel at regard of the peyne of helle,

that is so crueel and so long that it lasteth withouten ende.

1060 Now again the shame that a man hath to shryven hym,

1060A and namely thise ypocrites that wolden been holden so parfite that they han no nede to shryven hem;

agayns that shame sholde a man thynke that, by wey of resoun, that he that hath nat been shamed to doon foule thinges,

certes hym oghte nat been ashamed to do faire thynges, and that is confessiouns.

A man sholde eek thynke that God seeth and woot alle his thoghtes and alle his werkes,

to hym may no thyng been hyd ne covered.

Men sholden eek remembren hem of the shame that is to come at the day of doom

to hem that been nat penitent and shryven in this present lyf.

For alle the creatures in hevene, in erthe, and in helle shullen seen apertly al that they hyden in this world.

Now for to speken of the hope of hem that been necligent and slowe to shryven hem, that stant in two maneres.

That oon is that he hopeth for to lyve longe and for to purchacen muche richesse for his delit,

and thanne he wol shryven hym; and, as he seith, hym semeth thanne tymely ynough to come to shrifte.

Another is of surquidrie that he hath in Cristes mercy.

Agayns the firste vice, he shal thynke that oure lif is in no sikernesse,

and eek that alle the richesses in this world ben in aventure and passen as a shadwe on the wal;

and, as seith Seint Gregorie, that it aperteneth to the grete rightwisnesse of God that

nevere shal the peyne stynte of hem that nevere wolde withdrawen hem fro synne, hir thankes,

but ay continue in synne; for thilke perpetueel wil to do synne shul they han perpetueel peyne.

1070 Wanhope is in two maneres: the firste wanhope is in the mercy of Crist;

1070A that oother is that they thynken that they ne myghte nat longe persevere in goodnesse.

The firste wanhope comth of that he demeth that he hath synned so greetly and so ofte,

and so longe leyn in synne, that he shal nat be saved.

Certes, agayns that cursed wanhope sholde he thynke that

the passion of Jhesu Crist is moore strong for to unbynde than synne is strong for to bynde.

Agayns the seconde wanhope he shal thynke that as ofte as he falleth he may arise agayn by penitence.

And though he never so longe have leyn in synne, the mercy of Crist is alwey redy to receiven hym to mercy.

Agayns the wanhope that he demeth that he sholde nat longe persevere in goodnesse,

he shal thynke that the feblesse of the devel may nothyng doon, but if men wol suffren hym;

and eek he shal han strengthe of the help of God,

and of al hooly chirche, and of the proteccioun of aungels, if hym list.

Thanne shal men understonde what is the fruyt of penaunce; and, after the word of Jhesu Crist,

it is the endelees blisse of hevene,

ther joye hath no contrarioustee of wo ne grevaunce; ther alle harmes been passed of this present lyf;

ther as is the sikernesse fro the peyne of helle; ther as is the blisful compaignye

that rejoysen hem everemo, everich of otheres joye;

ther as the body of man, that whilom was foul and derk, is moore cleer than the sonne;

ther as the body, that whilom was syk, freele, and fieble, and mortal, is inmortal,

and so strong and so hool that ther may no thyng apeyren it;

ther as ne is neither hunger, thurst, ne coold, but every soule replenyssed with the sighte of the parfit knowynge of God.

1080 This blisful regne may men purchace by poverte espiritueel, and the glorie by lowenesse, the plentee of joye

1080A by hunger and thurst, and the reste by travaille, and the lyf by deeth and mortificacion of synne.

Now preye I to hem alle that herkne this litel tretys or rede,

that if ther be any thyng in it that liketh hem,

that therof they thanken oure Lord Jhesu Crist, of whom procedeth al wit and al goodnesse.

And if ther be any thyng that displese hem, I preye hem also that they arrette it to the defaute

of myn unkonnynge and nat to my wyl, that wolde ful fayn have seyd bettre if I hadde had konnynge.

For oure book seith, "Al that is writen is writen for oure doctrine,"

and that is myn entente.

Wherfore I biseke yow mekely, for the mercy of God,

that ye preye for me that Crist have mercy on me and foryeve me my giltes;

and namely of my translacions and enditynges of worldly vanitees, the whiche I revoke in my retracciouns:

as is the book of Troilus; the book also of Fame;

the book of the XXV. Ladies; the book of the Duchesse;

the book of Seint Valentynes day of the Parlement of Briddes; the tales of Caunterbury, thilke that sownen into synne;

the book of the Leoun; and many another book, if they were in my remembrance, and many a song

and many a leccherous lay, that Crist for his grete mercy foryeve me the synne.

But of the translacion of Boece de Consolacione, and othere bookes of legendes of seintes, and omelies, and moralitee, and devocioun,

that thanke I oure Lord Jhesu Crist and his blisful Mooder, and alle the seintes of hevene,

1090 bisekynge hem that they from hennes forth unto my lyves ende sende me grace to biwayle my giltes and to studie

1090A to the salvacioun of my soule, and graunte me grace of verray penitence, confessioun and satisfaccioun to doon in this present lyf,

thurgh the benigne grace of hym that is kyng of kynges and preest over alle preestes,

that boghte us with the precious blood of his herte,

so that I may been oon of hem at the day of doom that shulle be saved.

Qui cum Patre et Spiritu Sancto vivit et regnat Deus per omnia secula. Amen.

CHAUCER'S RETRACTION

Now preye I to hem alle that herkne this litel tretys or rede,

that if ther be any thyng in it that liketh hem,

that therof they thanken oure Lord Jhesu Crist, of whom al wit and al goodnesse.

And if ther be any thyng that displese hem, I preye hem that they arrette it to the defaute

of myn unkonnynge and nat to my wyl, that wolde ful fayn seyd bettre if I hadde had konnynge.

For oure book seith, "Al that is writen is writen for doctrine,"

and that is myn entente.

Wherfore I biseke yow mekely, for the mercy of God,

that ye preye for me that Crist have mercy on me and me my giltes;

and namely of my translacions and enditynges of worldly vanitees, the whiche I revoke in my retracciouns:

as is the book of Troilus; the book also of Fame;

the book of the XXV. Ladies; the book of the Duchesse;

the book of Seint Valentynes day of the Parlement of Briddes; the tales of Caunterbury, thilke that sownen into synne;

the book of the Leoun; and many another book, if they were in my remembrance, and many a song

and many a leccherous lay, that Crist for his grete mercy foryeve me the synne.

But of the translacion of Boece de Consolacione, and othere bookes of legendes of seintes, and omelies, and moralitee, and devocioun,

that thanke I oure Lord Jhesu Crist and his blisful Mooder, and alle the seintes of hevene,

1090 bisekynge hem that they from hennes forth unto my lyves ende sende me grace to biwayle my giltes and to studie

1090A to the salvacioun of my soule, and graunte me grace of verray penitence, confessioun and satisfaccioun to doon in this present lyf,

thurgh the benigne grace of hym that is kyng of kynges and preest over alle preestes,

that boghte us with the precious blood of his herte,

so that I may been oon of hem at the day of doom that shulle be saved.

Qui cum Patre et Spiritu Sancto vivit et regnat Deus per omnia secula. Amen.

OTHER WORKS

THE BOOK OF THE DUCHESS

I have gret wonder, be this lyght,

How that I lyve, for day ne nyght

I may nat slepe wel nygh noght;

I have so many an ydel thoght

Purely for defaute of slep

That, by my trouthe, I take no kep

Of nothing, how hyt cometh or gooth,

Ne me nys nothyng leef nor looth.

Al is ylyche good to me --

10 Joye or sorowe, wherso hyt be --

For I have felynge in nothyng,

But as yt were a mased thyng,

Alway in poynt to falle a-doun;

For sorwful ymagynacioun

Ys alway hooly in my mynde.

And wel ye woot, agaynes kynde

Hyt were to lyven in thys wyse,

For nature wolde nat suffyse

To noon erthly creature

20 Nat longe tyme to endure

Withoute slep and be in sorwe.

And I ne may, ne nyght ne morwe,

Slepe; and [thus] melancolye

And drede I have for to dye.

Defaute of slep and hevynesse

Hath sleyn my spirit of quyknesse

That I have lost al lustyhede.

Suche fantasies ben in myn hede

So I not what is best to doo.

30 But men myght axe me why soo

I may not slepe and what me is.

But natheles, who aske this

Leseth his asking trewely.

Myselven can not telle why

The sothe; but trewly, as I gesse,

I holde hit be a sicknesse

That I have suffred this eight yeer;

And yet my boote is never the ner,

For there is phisicien but oon

40 That may me hele; but that is don.

Passe we over untill eft;

That wil not be mot nede be left;

Our first mater is good to kepe.

So whan I saw I might not slepe

Til now late this other night,

Upon my bed I sat upright

And bad oon reche me a book,

A romaunce, and he it me tok

To rede and drive the night away;

50 For me thoughte it better play

Then playe either at ches or tables.

And in this bok were written fables

That clerkes had in olde tyme,

And other poetes, put in rime

To rede and for to be in minde,

While men loved the lawe of kinde.

This bok ne spak but of such thinges,

Of quenes lives, and of kinges,

And many other thinges smale.

60 Amonge al this I fond a tale

That me thoughte a wonder thing.

This was the tale: There was a king

That highte Seys, and had a wif,

The beste that mighte bere lyf,

And this quene highte Alcyone.

So it befil thereafter soone

This king wol wenden over see.

To tellen shortly, whan that he

Was in the see thus in this wise,

70 Such a tempest gan to rise

That brak her mast and made it falle,

And clefte her ship, and dreinte hem alle,

That never was founde, as it telles,

Bord ne man, ne nothing elles.

Right thus this king Seys loste his lif.

Now for to speke of Alcyone, his wif:

This lady, that was left at hom,

Hath wonder that the king ne com

Hom, for it was a longe terme.

80 Anon her herte began to [erme];

And for that her thoughte evermo

It was not wele [he dwelte] so,

She longed so after the king

That certes it were a pitous thing

To telle her hertely sorowful lif

That she had, this noble wif,

For him, alas, she loved alderbest.

Anon she sent bothe eest and west

To seke him, but they founde nought.

90 "Alas!" quod she, "that I was wrought!

And wher my lord, my love, be deed?

Certes, I nil never ete breed,

I make avow to my god here,

But I mowe of my lord here!"

Such sorowe this lady to her tok

That trewly I, that made this book,

Had such pittee and such rowthe

To rede hir sorwe that, by my trowthe,

I ferde the worse al the morwe

100 Aftir to thenken on hir sorwe.

So whan this lady koude here noo word

That no man myghte fynde hir lord,

Ful ofte she swouned, and sayed "Alas!"

For sorwe ful nygh wood she was,

Ne she koude no reed but oon;

But doun on knees she sat anoon

And wepte that pittee was to here.

"A, mercy, swete lady dere!"

Quod she to Juno, hir goddesse,

110 "Helpe me out of thys distresse,

And yeve me grace my lord to se

Soone or wite wher-so he be,

Or how he fareth, or in what wise,

And I shal make yow sacrifise,

And hooly youres become I shal

With good wille, body, herte, and al;

And but thow wolt this, lady swete,

Send me grace to slepe and mete

In my slep som certeyn sweven

120 Wherthourgh that I may knowen even

Whether my lord be quyk or ded."

With that word she heng doun the hed

And fel a-swowne as cold as ston.

Hyr women kaught hir up anoon

And broghten hir in bed al naked,

And she, forweped and forwaked,

Was wery; and thus the dede slep

Fil on hir or she tooke kep,

Throgh Juno, that had herd hir bone,

130 That made hir to slepe sone.

For as she prayede, ryght so was don

In dede; for Juno ryght anon

Called thus hir messager

To doo hir erande, and he com ner.

Whan he was come, she bad hym thus:

"Go bet," quod Juno, "to Morpheus --

Thou knowest hym wel, the god of slep.

Now understond wel and tak kep!

Sey thus on my half: that he

140 Go faste into the Grete Se,

And byd hym that, on alle thyng,

He take up Seys body the kyng,

That lyeth ful pale and nothyng rody.

Bid hym crepe into the body

And doo hit goon to Alcione

The quene, ther she lyeth allone,

And shewe hir shortly, hit ys no nay,

How hit was dreynt thys other day;

And do the body speke ryght soo,

150 Ryght as hyt was woned to doo

The whiles that hit was alyve.

Goo now faste, and hye the blyve!"

This messager tok leve and wente

Upon hys wey, and never ne stente

Til he com to the derke valeye

That stant betwixe roches tweye

Ther never yet grew corn ne gras,

Ne tre, ne noght that ought was,

Beste, ne man, ne noght elles,

160 Save ther were a fewe welles

Came rennynge fro the clyves adoun,

That made a dedly slepynge soun,

And ronnen doun ryght by a cave

That was under a rokke ygrave

Amydde the valey, wonder depe.

There these goddes lay and slepe,

Morpheus and Eclympasteyr,

That was the god of slepes heyr,

That slep and dide noon other werk.

170 This cave was also as derk

As helle-pit overal aboute.

They had good leyser for to route,

To envye who myghte slepe best.

Somme henge her chyn upon hir brest

And slept upryght, hir hed yhed,

And somme lay naked in her bed

And slepe whiles the dayes laste.

This messager com fleynge faste

And cried, "O, how! Awake anoon!"

180 Hit was for noght; there herde hym non.

"Awake!" quod he, "whoo ys lyth there?"

And blew his horn ryght in here eere,

And cried "Awaketh!" wonder hye.

This god of slep with hys oon ye

Cast up, and axed, "Who clepeth ther?"

"Hyt am I," quod this messager.

"Juno bad thow shuldest goon" --

And tolde hym what he shulde doon

(As I have told yow here-to-fore;

190 Hyt ys no nede reherse hyt more)

And went hys wey whan he had sayd.

Anoon this god of slep abrayd

Out of hys slep, and gan to goon,

And dyde as he had bede hym doon:

Took up the dreynte body sone

And bar hyt forth to Alcione,

Hys wif the quene, ther as she lay

Ryght even a quarter before day,

And stood ryght at hyr beddes fet,

200 And called hir ryght as she het

By name, and sayde, "My swete wyf,

Awake! Let be your sorwful lyf,

For in your sorwe there lyth no red;

For, certes, swete, I am but ded.

Ye shul me never on lyve yse.

But, goode swete herte, that ye

Bury my body, for such a tyde

Ye mowe hyt fynde the see besyde;

And farewel, swete, my worldes blysse!

210 I praye God youre sorwe lysse.

To lytel while oure blysse lasteth!"

With that hir eyen up she casteth

And saw noght. "Allas!" quod she for sorwe,

And deyede within the thridde morwe.

But what she sayede more in that swow

I may not telle yow as now;

Hyt were to longe for to dwelle.

My first matere I wil yow telle,

Wherfore I have told this thyng

220 Of Alcione and Seys the kyng,

For thus moche dar I saye wel:

I had be dolven everydel

And ded, ryght thurgh defaute of slep,

Yif I ne had red and take kep

Of this tale next before.

And I wol telle yow wherfore:

For I ne myghte, for bote ne bale,

Slepe or I had red thys tale

Of this dreynte Seys the kyng

230 And of the goddes of slepyng.

Whan I had red thys tale wel

And overloked hyt everydel,

Me thoghte wonder yf hit were so,

For I had never herd speke or tho

Of noo goddes that koude make

Men to slepe, ne for to wake,

For I ne knew never god but oon.

And in my game I sayde anoon

(And yet me lyst ryght evel to pleye)

240 Rather then that y shulde deye

Thorgh defaute of slepynge thus,

I wolde yive thilke Morpheus,

Or hys goddesse, dame Juno,

Or som wight elles, I ne roghte who --

"To make me slepe and have som reste

I wil yive hym the alderbeste

Yifte that ever he abod hys lyve.

And here on warde, ryght now as blyve,

Yif he wol make me slepe a lyte,

250 Of down of pure dowves white

I wil yive hym a fether-bed,

Rayed with gold and ryght wel cled

In fyn blak satyn doutremer,

And many a pilowe, and every ber

Of cloth of Reynes, to slepe softe --

Hym thar not nede to turnen ofte --

And I wol yive hym al that falles

To a chambre, and al hys halles

I wol do peynte with pure gold

260 And tapite hem ful many fold

Of oo sute; this shal he have

(Yf I wiste where were hys cave),

Yf he kan make me slepe sone,

As did the goddesse quene Alcione.

And thus this ylke god, Morpheus,

May wynne of me moo fees thus

Than ever he wan; and to Juno,

That ys hys goddesse, I shal soo do,

I trow, that she shal holde hir payd."

270 I hadde unneth that word ysayd

Ryght thus as I have told hyt yow,

That sodeynly, I nyste how,

Such a lust anoon me took

To slepe that ryght upon my book

Y fil aslepe, and therwith even

Me mette so ynly swete a sweven,

So wonderful that never yit

Y trowe no man had the wyt

To konne wel my sweven rede;

280 No, not Joseph, withoute drede,

Of Egipte, he that redde so

The kynges metynge Pharao,

No more than koude the lest of us;

Ne nat skarsly Macrobeus

(He that wrot al th' avysyoun

That he mette, kyng Scipioun,

The noble man, the Affrikan --

Suche marvayles fortuned than),

I trowe, arede my dremes even.

290 Loo, thus hyt was; thys was my sweven.

Me thoghte thus: that hyt was May,

And in the dawenynge I lay

(Me mette thus) in my bed al naked

And loked forth, for I was waked

With smale foules a gret hep

That had affrayed me out of my slep

Thorgh noyse and swetnesse of her song.

And, as me mette, they sate among

Upon my chambre roof wythoute,

300 Upon the tyles, overal aboute,

And songe, everych in hys wyse,

The moste solempne servise

By noote that ever man, y trowe,

Had herd, for som of hem song lowe,

Som high, and al of oon acord.

To telle shortly, att oo word,

Was never herd so swete a steven

But hyt had be a thyng of heven --

So mery a soun, so swete entewnes,

310 That certes, for the toun of Tewnes

I nolde but I had herd hem synge;

For al my chambre gan to rynge

Thurgh syngynge of her armonye;

For instrument nor melodye

Was nowhere herd yet half so swete,

Nor of acord half so mete;

For ther was noon of hem that feyned

To synge, for ech of hem hym peyned

To fynde out mery crafty notes.

320 They ne spared not her throtes.

And sooth to seyn, my chambre was

Ful wel depeynted, and with glas

Were al the wyndowes wel yglased

Ful clere, and nat an hoole ycrased,

That to beholde hyt was gret joye.

For hooly al the story of Troye

Was in the glasynge ywroght thus,

Of Ector and of kyng Priamus,

Of Achilles and of kyng Lamedon,

330 And eke of Medea and of Jason,

Of Paris, Eleyne, and of Lavyne.

And alle the walles with colours fyne

Were peynted, bothe text and glose,

[Of] al the Romaunce of the Rose.

My wyndowes were shette echon,

And throgh the glas the sonne shon

Upon my bed with bryghte bemes,

With many glade gilde stremes;

And eke the welken was so fair --

340 Blew, bryght, clere was the ayr,

And ful attempre for sothe hyt was;

For nother to cold nor hoot yt nas,

Ne in al the welken was a clowde.

And as I lay thus, wonder lowde

Me thoght I herde an hunte blowe

T' assay hys horn and for to knowe

Whether hyt were clere or hors of soun.

And I herde goynge bothe up and doun

Men, hors, houndes, and other thyng;

350 And al men speken of huntyng,

How they wolde slee the hert with strengthe,

And how the hert had upon lengthe

So moche embosed -- y not now what.

Anoon ryght whan I herde that,

How that they wolde on-huntynge goon,

I was ryght glad, and up anoon

Took my hors, and forth I wente

Out of my chambre; I never stente

Til I com to the feld withoute.

360 Ther overtok y a gret route

Of huntes and eke of foresteres,

With many relayes and lymeres,

And hyed hem to the forest faste

And I with hem. So at the laste

I asked oon, ladde a lymere:

"Say, felowe, who shal hunte here?"

Quod I, and he answered ageyn,

"Syr, th' emperour Octovyen,"

Quod he, "and ys here faste by."

370 "A Goddes half, in good tyme!" quod I,

"Go we faste!" and gan to ryde.

Whan we came to the forest syde,

Every man dide ryght anoon

As to huntynge fil to doon.

The mayster-hunte anoon, fot-hot,

With a gret horn blew thre mot

At the uncouplynge of hys houndes.

Withynne a while the hert yfounde ys,

Yhalowed, and rechased faste

380 Longe tyme; and so at the laste

This hert rused and staal away

Fro alle the houndes a privy way.

The houndes had overshote hym alle

And were on a defaute yfalle.

Therwyth the hunte wonder faste

Blew a forloyn at the laste.

I was go walked fro my tree,

And as I wente, ther cam by mee

A whelp, that fauned me as I stood,

390 That hadde yfolowed and koude no good.

Hyt com and crepte to me as lowe

Ryght as hyt hadde me yknowe,

Helde doun hys hed and joyned hys eres,

And leyde al smothe doun hys heres.

I wolde have kaught hyt, and anoon

Hyt fledde and was fro me goon;

And I hym folwed, and hyt forth wente

Doun by a floury grene wente

Ful thikke of gras, ful softe and swete.

400 With floures fele, faire under fete,

And litel used; hyt semed thus,

For both Flora and Zephirus,

They two that make floures growe,

Had mad her dwellynge ther, I trowe;

For hit was, on to beholde,

As thogh the erthe envye wolde

To be gayer than the heven,

To have moo floures, swiche seven,

As in the welken sterres bee.

410 Hyt had forgete the povertee

That wynter, thorgh hys colde morwes,

Had mad hyt suffre, and his sorwes;

All was forgeten, and that was sene,

For al the woode was waxen grene;

Swetnesse of dew had mad hyt waxe.

Hyt ys no nede eke for to axe

Wher there were many grene greves,

Or thikke of trees, so ful of leves;

And every tree stood by hymselve

420 Fro other wel ten foot or twelve --

So grete trees, so huge of strengthe,

Of fourty or fifty fadme lengthe,

Clene withoute bowgh or stikke,

With croppes brode, and eke as thikke --

They were nat an ynche asonder --

That hit was shadewe overal under.

And many an hert and many an hynde

Was both before me and behynde.

Of founes, sowres, bukkes, does

430 Was ful the woode, and many roes,

And many sqwirelles that sete

Ful high upon the trees and ete,

And in hir maner made festes.

Shortly, hyt was so ful of bestes

That thogh Argus, the noble countour,

Sete to rekene in hys countour,

And rekene with his figures ten --

For by tho figures mowe al ken,

Yf they be crafty, rekene and noumbre,

440 And telle of every thing the noumbre --

Yet shoulde he fayle to rekene even

The wondres me mette in my sweven.

But forth they romed ryght wonder faste

Doun the woode; so at the laste

I was war of a man in blak,

That sat and had yturned his bak

To an ook, an huge tree.

"Lord," thoght I, "who may that be?

What ayleth hym to sitten her?"

450 Anoon-ryght I wente ner;

Than found I sitte even upryght

A wonder wel-farynge knyght --

By the maner me thoghte so --

Of good mochel, and ryght yong therto,

Of the age of foure and twenty yer,

Upon hys berd but lytel her,

And he was clothed al in blak.

I stalked even unto hys bak,

And there I stood as stille as ought,

460 That, soth to saye, he saw me nought;

For-why he heng hys hed adoun,

And with a dedly sorwful soun

He made of rym ten vers or twelve

Of a compleynte to hymselve --

The moste pitee, the moste rowthe,

That ever I herde; for, by my trowthe,

467 Hit was gret wonder that Nature

Myght suffre any creature

To have such sorwe and be not ded.

470 Ful pitous pale and nothyng red,

He sayd a lay, a maner song,

Withoute noote, withoute song;

And was thys, for ful wel I kan

Reherse hyt; ryght thus hyt began:

"I have of sorwe so gret won

That joye gete I never non,

Now that I see my lady bryght,

Which I have loved with al my myght,

Is fro me ded and ys agoon.

"Allas, deth, what ayleth the,

That thou noldest have taken me,

Whan thou toke my lady swete,

That was so fair, so fresh, so fre,

So good that men may wel se

Of al goodnesse she had no mete!"

Whan he had mad thus his complaynte,

Hys sorwful hert gan faste faynte

And his spirites wexen dede;

490 The blood was fled for pure drede

Doun to hys herte, to make hym warm --

For wel hyt feled the herte had harm --

To wite eke why hyt was adrad

By kynde, and for to make hyt glad,

For hit ys membre principal

Of the body; and that made al

Hys hewe chaunge and wexe grene

And pale, for ther noo blood ys sene

In no maner lym of hys.

500 Anoon therwith whan y sawgh this --

He ferde thus evel there he set --

I went and stood ryght at his fet,

And grette hym; but he spak noght,

But argued with his owne thoght,

And in hys wyt disputed faste

Why and how hys lyf myght laste;

Hym thoughte hys sorwes were so smerte

And lay so colde upon hys herte.

So, throgh hys sorwe and hevy thoght,

510 Made hym that he herde me noght;

For he had wel nygh lost hys mynde,

Thogh Pan, that men clepeth god of kynde,

Were for hys sorwes never so wroth.

But at the last, to sayn ryght soth,

He was war of me, how y stood

Before hym and did of myn hood,

And had ygret hym as I best koude,

Debonayrly, and nothyng lowde.

He sayde, "I prey the, be not wroth.

520 I herde the not, to seyn the soth,

Ne I sawgh the not, syr, trewely."

"A, goode sir, no fors," quod y,

"I am ryght sory yif I have ought

Destroubled yow out of your thought.

Foryive me, yif I have mystake."

"Yis, th' amendes is lyght to make,"

Quod he, "for ther lyeth noon therto;

There ys nothyng myssayd nor do."

Loo, how goodly spak thys knyght,

530 As hit had be another wyght;

He made hyt nouther towgh ne queynte.

And I saw that, and gan me aqueynte

With hym, and fond hym so tretable,

Ryght wonder skylful and resonable,

As me thoghte, for al hys bale.

Anoon ryght I gan fynde a tale

To hym, to loke wher I myght ought

Have more knowynge of hys thought.

"Sir," quod I, "this game is doon.

540 I holde that this hert be goon;

These huntes konne hym nowher see."

"Y do no fors therof," quod he;

"My thought ys theron never a del."

"By oure Lord," quod I, "y trow yow wel;

Ryght so me thinketh by youre chere.

But, sir, oo thyng wol ye here?

Me thynketh in gret sorowe I yow see;

But certes, sire, yif that yee

Wolde ought discure me youre woo,

550 I wolde, as wys God helpe me soo,

Amende hyt, yif I kan or may.

Ye mowe preve hyt be assay;

For, by my trouthe, to make yow hool

I wol do al my power hool.

And telleth me of your sorwes smerte;

Paraunter hyt may ese youre herte,

That semeth ful sek under your syde."

With that he loked on me asyde,

As who sayth, "Nay, that wol not be."

560 "Graunt mercy, goode frend," quod he,

"I thanke the that thow woldest soo,

But hyt may never the rather be doo.

No man may my sorwe glade,

That maketh my hewe to falle and fade,

And hath myn understondynge lorn

That me ys wo that I was born!

May noght make my sorwes slyde,

Nought al the remedyes of Ovyde,

Ne Orpheus, god of melodye,

570 Ne Dedalus with his playes slye;

Ne hele me may no phisicien,

Noght Ypocras ne Galyen;

Me ys wo that I lyve houres twelve.

But whooso wol assay hymselve

Whether his hert kan have pitee

Of any sorwe, lat hym see me.

Y wrecche, that deth hath mad al naked

Of al the blysse that ever was maked,

Yworthe worste of alle wyghtes,

580 That hate my dayes and my nyghtes!

My lyf, my lustes, be me loothe,

For al welfare and I be wroothe.

The pure deth ys so ful my foo

That I wolde deye, hyt wolde not soo;

For whan I folwe hyt, hit wol flee;

I wolde have hym, hyt nyl nat me.

This ys my peyne wythoute red,

Alway deynge and be not ded,

That Cesiphus, that lyeth in helle,

590 May not of more sorwe telle.

And whoso wiste al, by my trouthe,

My sorwe, but he hadde rowthe

And pitee of my sorwes smerte,

That man hath a fendly herte;

For whoso seeth me first on morwe

May seyn he hath met with sorwe,

For y am sorwe, and sorwe ys y.

"Allas! and I wol tel the why:

My [song] ys turned to pleynynge,

600 And al my laughtre to wepynge,

My glade thoghtes to hevynesse;

In travayle ys myn ydelnesse

And eke my reste; my wele is woo,

My good ys harm, and evermoo

In wrathe ys turned my pleynge

And my delyt into sorwynge.

Myn hele ys turned into seknesse,

In drede ys al my sykernesse;

To derke ys turned al my lyght,

610 My wyt ys foly, my day ys nyght,

My love ys hate, my slep wakynge,

My myrthe and meles ys fastynge,

My countenaunce ys nycete

And al abaved, where so I be;

My pees in pledynge and in werre.

Allas, how myghte I fare werre?

My boldnesse ys turned to shame,

For fals Fortune hath pleyd a game

Atte ches with me, allas the while!

620 The trayteresse fals and ful of gyle,

That al behoteth and nothyng halt,

She goth upryght and yet she halt,

That baggeth foule and loketh faire,

The dispitouse debonaire

That skorneth many a creature!

An ydole of fals portrayture

Ys she, for she wol sone wrien;

She is the monstres hed ywrien,

As fylthe over-ystrawed with floures.

630 Hir moste worshippe and hir flour ys

To lyen, for that ys hyr nature;

Withoute feyth, lawe, or mesure

She ys fals, and ever laughynge

With oon eye, and that other wepynge.

That ys broght up she set al doun.

I lykne hyr to the scorpioun,

That ys a fals, flaterynge beste,

For with his hed he maketh feste,

But al amydde hys flaterynge

640 With hys tayle he wol stynge

And envenyme; and so wol she.

She ys th' envyouse charite

That ys ay fals and semeth wel;

So turneth she hyr false whel

Aboute, for hyt ys nothyng stable --

Now by the fire, now at table;

For many oon hath she thus yblent.

She ys pley of enchauntement,

That semeth oon and ys not soo.

650 The false thef! What hath she doo,

Trowest thou? By oure Lord I wol the seye:

"At the ches with me she gan to pleye;

With hir false draughtes dyvers

She staal on me and tok my fers.

And whan I sawgh my fers awaye,

Allas, I kouthe no lenger playe,

But seyde, `Farewel, swete, ywys,

And farewel al that ever ther ys!'

"Therwith Fortune seyde `Chek her!

660 And mat in the myd poynt of the chekker,

With a poun errant!' Allas,

Ful craftier to pley she was

Than Athalus, that made the game

First of the ches, so was hys name.

But God wolde I had oones or twyes

Ykoud and knowe the jeupardyes

That kowde the Grek Pictagores!

I shulde have pleyd the bet at ches

And kept my fers the bet therby.

670 And thogh wherto? For trewely

I holde that wyssh nat worth a stree!

Hyt had be never the bet for me,

For Fortune kan so many a wyle

Ther be but fewe kan hir begile;

And eke she ys the lasse to blame;

Myself I wolde have do the same,

Before God, hadde I ben as she;

She oghte the more excused be.

For this I say yet more therto:

680 Had I be God and myghte have do

My wille whan she my fers kaughte,

I wolde have drawe the same draughte.

For, also wys God yive me reste,

I dar wel swere she took the beste.

But through that draughte I have lorn

My blysse; allas, that I was born!

For evermore, y trowe trewly,

For al my wille, my lust holly

Ys turned; but yet, what to doone?

690 Be oure Lord, hyt ys to deye soone.

For nothyng I leve hyt noght,

But lyve and deye ryght in this thoght;

For there nys planete in firmament,

Ne in ayr ne in erthe noon element,

That they ne yive me a yifte echone

Of wepynge whan I am allone.

For whan that I avise me wel

And bethenke me every del

How that ther lyeth in rekenyng,

700 In my sorwe, for nothyng,

And how ther leveth no gladnesse

May glade me of my distresse,

And how I have lost suffisance,

And therto I have no plesance,

Than may I say I have ryght noght.

And whan al this falleth in my thoght,

Allas, than am I overcome!

For that ys doon ys not to come.

I have more sorowe than Tantale."

710 And whan I herde hym tel thys tale

Thus pitously, as I yow telle,

Unnethe myght y lenger dwelle,

Hyt dyde myn herte so moche woo.

"A, goode sir," quod I, "say not soo!

Have som pitee on your nature

That formed yow to creature.

Remembre yow of Socrates,

For he ne counted nat thre strees

Of noght that Fortune koude doo."

720 "No," quod he, "I kan not soo."

"Why so, good syr? Yis parde!" quod y;

"Ne say noght soo, for trewely,

Thogh ye had lost the ferses twelve,

And ye for sorwe mordred yourselve,

Ye sholde be dampned in this cas

By as good ryght as Medea was,

That slough hir children for Jasoun;

And Phyllis also for Demophoun

Heng hirself -- so weylaway! --

730 For he had broke his terme-day

731 To come to hir. Another rage

Had Dydo, the quene eke of Cartage,

That slough hirself for Eneas

Was fals -- which a fool she was!

And Ecquo died for Narcisus

Nolde nat love hir, and ryght thus

Hath many another foly doon;

And for Dalida died Sampson,

That slough hymself with a piler.

740 But ther is no man alyve her

Wolde for a fers make this woo!"

"Why so?" quod he, "hyt ys nat soo.

Thou wost ful lytel what thou menest;

I have lost more than thow wenest."

"Loo, [sey] how that may be?" quod y;

"Good sir, telle me al hooly

In what wyse, how, why, and wherfore

That ye have thus youre blysse lore."

"Blythely," quod he; "com sytte adoun!

750 I telle the upon a condicioun

That thou shalt hooly, with al thy wyt,

Doo thyn entent to herkene hit."

"Yis, syr." "Swere thy trouthe therto."

"Gladly." "Do thanne holde hereto!"

"I shal ryght blythely, so God me save,

Hooly, with al the wit I have,

Here yow as wel as I kan."

"A Goddes half!" quod he, and began:

"Syr," quod he, "sith first I kouthe

760 Have any maner wyt fro youthe,

Or kyndely understondyng

To comprehende in any thyng

What love was, in myn owne wyt,

Dredeles, I have ever yit

Be tributarye and yive rente

To Love, hooly with good entente,

And throgh plesaunce become his thral

With good wille, body, hert, and al.

Al this I putte in his servage,

770 As to my lord, and dide homage;

And ful devoutly I prayed hym to

He shulde besette myn herte so

That hyt plesance to hym were

And worship to my lady dere.

"And this was longe, and many a yer

Or that myn herte was set owher,

That I dide thus, and nyste why;

I trowe hit cam me kyndely.

Paraunter I was therto most able,

780 As a whit wal or a table,

For hit ys redy to cacche and take

Al that men wil theryn make,

Whethir so men wil portreye or peynte,

Be the werkes never so queynte.

"And thilke tyme I ferde ryght so,

I was able to have lerned tho,

And to have kend as wel or better,

Paraunter, other art or letre;

But for love cam first in my thoght,

790 Therfore I forgat hyt noght.

I ches love to my firste craft;

Therfore hit ys with me laft,

For-why I tok hyt of so yong age

That malyce hadde my corage

Nat that tyme turned to nothyng

Thorgh to mochel knowlechyng.

For that tyme Yowthe, my maistresse,

Governed me in ydelnesse;

For hyt was in my firste youthe,

800 And thoo ful lytel good y couthe,

For al my werkes were flyttynge

That tyme, and al my thoght varyinge.

Al were to me ylyche good

That I knew thoo; but thus hit stood:

"Hit happed that I cam on a day

Into a place ther that I say

Trewly the fayrest companye

Of ladyes that evere man with ye

Had seen togedres in oo place.

810 Shal I clepe hyt hap other grace

That broght me there? Nay, but Fortune,

That ys to lyen ful comune,

813 The false trayteresse pervers!

God wolde I koude clepe hir wers,

For now she worcheth me ful woo,

And I wol telle sone why soo.

"Among these ladyes thus echon,

Soth to seyen, y sawgh oon

That was lyk noon of the route;

820 For I dar swere, withoute doute,

That as the someres sonne bryght

Ys fairer, clerer, and hath more lyght

Than any other planete in heven,

The moone or the sterres seven,

For al the world so hadde she

Surmounted hem alle of beaute,

Of maner, and of comlynesse,

Of stature, and of wel set gladnesse,

Of goodlyhede so wel beseye --

830 Shortly, what shal y more seye?

By God and by his halwes twelve,

Hyt was my swete, ryght as hirselve.

She had so stedfast countenaunce,

So noble port and meyntenaunce,

And Love, that had wel herd my boone,

Had espyed me thus soone,

That she ful sone in my thoght,

As helpe me God, so was ykaught

So sodenly that I ne tok

840 No maner counseyl but at hir lok

And at myn herte; for-why hir eyen

So gladly, I trow, myn herte seyen

That purely tho myn owne thoght

Seyde hit were beter serve hir for noght

Than with another to be wel.

And hyt was soth, for everydel

I wil anoon ryght telle thee why.

"I sawgh hyr daunce so comlily,

Carole and synge so swetely,

850 Laughe and pleye so womanly,

And loke so debonairly,

So goodly speke and so frendly,

That certes y trowe that evermor

Nas seyn so blysful a tresor.

For every heer on hir hed,

Soth to seyne, hyt was not red,

Ne nouther yelowe ne broun hyt nas;

Me thoghte most lyk gold hyt was.

"And whiche eyen my lady hadde!

860 Debonaire, goode, glade, and sadde,

Symple, of good mochel, noght to wyde.

Therto hir look nas not asyde

Ne overthwert, but beset so wel

Hyt drew and took up everydel

Al that on hir gan beholde.

Hir eyen semed anoon she wolde

Have mercy -- fooles wenden soo --

But hyt was never the rather doo.

Hyt nas no countrefeted thyng;

870 Hyt was hir owne pure lokyng

That the goddesse, dame Nature,

Had mad hem opene by mesure

And close; for were she never so glad,

Hyr lokynge was not foly sprad,

Ne wildely, thogh that she pleyde;

But ever, me thoght, hir eyen seyde,

`Be God, my wrathe ys al foryive!'

"Therwith hir lyste so wel to lyve,

That dulnesse was of hir adrad.

880 She nas to sobre ne to glad;

In alle thynges more mesure

Had never, I trowe, creature.

But many oon with hire lok she herte,

And that sat hyr ful lyte at herte,

For she knew nothyng of her thoght;

But whether she knew or knew it nowght

Algate she ne roughte of hem a stree! --

To gete her love no ner nas he

That woned at hom than he in Ynde;

890 The formest was alway behynde.

But goode folk, over al other,

She loved as man may do hys brother;

Of which love she was wonder large,

In skilful places that bere charge.

"But which a visage had she thertoo!

Allas, myn herte ys wonder woo

That I ne kan discryven hyt!

Me lakketh both Englyssh and wit

For to undo hyt at the fulle;

900 And eke my spirites be so dulle

So gret a thyng for to devyse.

I have no wit that kan suffise

To comprehende hir beaute.

But thus moche dar I sayn, that she

Was whit, rody, fressh, and lyvely hewed,

And every day hir beaute newed.

And negh hir face was alderbest,

For certes Nature had swich lest

To make that fair that trewly she

910 Was hir chef patron of beaute,

And chef ensample of al hir werk,

And moustre; for be hyt never so derk,

Me thynketh I se hir ever moo.

And yet moreover, thogh alle thoo

That ever livede were now alyve,

Ne sholde have founde to discryve

Yn al hir face a wikked sygne,

For hit was sad, symple, and benygne.

"And which a goodly, softe speche

920 Had that swete, my lyves leche!

So frendly, and so wel ygrounded,

Up al resoun so wel yfounded,

And so tretable to alle goode

That I dar swere wel, by the roode,

Of eloquence was never founde

So swete a sownynge facounde,

Ne trewer tonged, ne skorned lasse,

Ne bet koude hele -- that, by the masse

I durste swere, thogh the pope hit songe,

930 That ther was never yet throgh hir tonge

Man ne woman gretly harmed;

As for her, was al harm hyd --

Ne lasse flaterynge in hir word,

That purely hir symple record

Was founde as trewe as any bond

Or trouthe of any mannes hond;

Ne chyde she koude never a del;

That knoweth al the world ful wel.

"But swich a fairnesse of a nekke

940 Had that swete that boon nor brekke

Nas ther non sene that myssat.

Hyt was whit, smothe, streght, and pure flat,

Wythouten hole or canel-boon,

As be semynge had she noon.

Hyr throte, as I have now memoyre,

Semed a round tour of yvoyre,

Of good gretnesse, and noght to gret.

"And goode faire White she het;

That was my lady name ryght.

950 She was bothe fair and bryght;

She hadde not hir name wrong.

Ryght faire shuldres and body long

She had, and armes, every lyth

Fattyssh, flesshy, not gret therwith;

Ryght white handes, and nayles rede;

Rounde brestes; and of good brede

Hyr hippes were; a streight flat bak.

I knew on hir noon other lak

That al hir lymmes nere pure sewynge

960 In as fer as I had knowynge.

"Therto she koude so wel pleye,

Whan that hir lyste, that I dar seye

That she was lyk to torche bryght

That every man may take of lyght

Ynogh, and hyt hath never the lesse.

Of maner and of comlynesse

Ryght so ferde my lady dere,

For every wight of hir manere

Myght cacche ynogh, yif that he wolde,

970 Yif he had eyen hir to beholde;

For I dar swere wel, yif that she

Had among ten thousand be,

She wolde have be, at the leste,

A chef myrour of al the feste,

Thogh they had stonden in a rowe,

To mennes eyen that koude have knowe;

For wher-so men had pleyd or waked,

Me thoghte the felawsshyppe as naked

Withouten hir that sawgh I oones

980 As a corowne withoute stones.

981 Trewly she was, to myn ye

The soleyn fenix of Arabye,

For ther livyth never but oon,

Ne swich as she ne knowe I noon.

"To speke of godnesse, trewly she

Had as moche debonairte

As ever had Hester in the Bible,

And more, yif more were possyble.

And soth to seyne, therwythal

990 She had a wyt so general,

So hool enclyned to alle goode,

That al hir wyt was set, by the rode,

Withoute malyce, upon gladnesse;

And therto I saugh never yet a lesse

Harmful than she was in doynge.

I sey nat that she ne had knowynge

What harm was, or elles she

Had koud no good, so thinketh me.

"And trewly for to speke of trouthe,

1000 But she had had, hyt hadde be routhe.

Therof she had so moche hyr del --

And I dar seyn and swere hyt wel --

That Trouthe hymself over al and al

Had chose hys maner principal

In hir that was his restyng place.

Therto she hadde the moste grace

To have stedefast perseveraunce

And esy, atempre governaunce

That ever I knew or wyste yit,

1010 So pure suffraunt was hir wyt;

And reson gladly she understood;

Hyt folowed wel she koude good.

She used gladly to do wel;

These were hir maners everydel.

"Therwith she loved so wel ryght

She wrong do wolde to no wyght.

No wyght myghte do hir noo shame,

She loved so wel hir owne name.

Hyr lust to holde no wyght in honde,

1020 Ne, be thou siker, she wolde not fonde

To holde no wyght in balaunce

By half word ne by countenaunce --

But if men wolde upon hir lye --

Ne sende men into Walakye,

To Pruyse, and into Tartarye,

To Alysaundre, ne into Turkye,

And byd hym faste anoon that he

Goo hoodles into the Drye Se

And come hom by the Carrenar,

1030 And seye, `Sir, be now ryght war

That I may of yow here seyn

Worshyp or that ye come ageyn!'

She ne used no suche knakkes smale.

"But wherfore that y telle my tale?

Ryght on thys same, as I have seyd,

Was hooly al my love leyd;

For certes she was, that swete wif,

1038 My suffisaunce, my lust, my lyf,

Myn hap, myn hele, and al my blesse,

1040 My worldes welfare, and my goddesse,

And I hooly hires and everydel."

"By oure Lord," quod I, "y trowe yow wel!

Hardely, your love was wel beset;

I not how ye myghte have do bet."

"Bet? Ne no wyght so wel," quod he.

"Y trowe hyt wel, sir," quod I, "parde!"

"Nay, leve hyt wel!" "Sire, so do I;

I leve yow wel, that trewely

Yow thoghte that she was the beste

1050 And to beholde the alderfayreste,

Whoso had loked hir with your eyen."

"With myn? Nay, alle that hir seyen

Seyde and sworen hyt was soo.

And thogh they ne hadde, I wolde thoo

Have loved best my lady free,

Thogh I had had al the beaute

That ever had Alcipyades,

And al the strengthe of Ercules,

And therto had the worthynesse

1060 Of Alysaunder, and al the rychesse

That ever was in Babyloyne,

In Cartage, or in Macedoyne,

1063 Or in Rome, or in Nynyve;

And therto also hardy be

As was Ector, so have I joye,

That Achilles slough at Troye --

And therfore was he slayn alsoo

In a temple, for bothe twoo

Were slayne, he and Antylegyus

1070 (And so seyth Dares Frygius),

For love of Polixena --

Or ben as wis as Mynerva,

I wolde ever, withoute drede,

Have loved hir, for I moste nede.

`Nede?' Nay, trewly, I gabbe now;

Noght `nede,' and I wol tellen how:

For of good wille myn herte hyt wolde,

And eke to love hir I was holde

As for the fairest and the beste.

1080 She was as good, so have I reste,

As ever was Penelopee of Grece,

Or as the noble wif Lucrece,

That was the beste -- he telleth thus,

The Romayn, Tytus Lyvyus --

She was as good, and nothyng lyk

(Thogh hir stories be autentyk),

Algate she was as trewe as she.

"But wherfore that I telle thee

Whan I first my lady say?

1090 I was ryght yong, soth to say,

And ful gret nede I hadde to lerne;

Whan my herte wolde yerne

To love, hyt was a gret empryse.

But as my wyt koude best suffise,

After my yonge childly wyt,

Withoute drede, I besette hyt

To love hir in my beste wyse,

To do hir worship and the servise

That I koude thoo, be my trouthe,

1100 Withoute feynynge outher slouthe,

For wonder feyn I wolde hir se.

So mochel hyt amended me

That whan I saugh hir first a-morwe

I was warished of al my sorwe

Of al day after; til hyt were eve

Me thoghte nothyng myghte me greve,

Were my sorwes never so smerte.

And yet she syt so in myn herte

That, by my trouthe, y nolde noght

1110 For al thys world out of my thoght

Leve my lady; noo, trewely!"

"Now, by my trouthe, sir," quod I,

"Me thynketh ye have such a chaunce

As shryfte wythoute repentaunce."

"Repentaunce? Nay, fy!" quod he,

"Shulde y now repente me

To love? Nay, certes, than were I wel

Wers than was Achitofel,

Or Anthenor, so have I joye,

1120 The traytor that betraysed Troye,

Or the false Genelloun,

He that purchased the tresoun

Of Rowland and of Olyver.

Nay, while I am alyve her,

I nyl foryete hir never moo."

"Now, goode syre," quod I thoo,

"Ye han wel told me herebefore;

Hyt ys no nede to reherse it more,

How ye sawe hir first, and where.

1130 But wolde ye tel me the manere

To hire which was your firste speche --

Therof I wolde yow beseche --

And how she knewe first your thoght,

Whether ye loved hir or noght?

And telleth me eke what ye have lore,

I herde yow telle herebefore."

"Yee!" seyde he, "thow nost what thow menest;

I have lost more than thou wenest."

"What los ys that?" quod I thoo;

1140 "Nyl she not love yow? Ys hyt soo?

Or have ye oght doon amys,

That she hath left yow? Ys hyt this?

For Goddes love, telle me al."

"Before God," quod he, "and I shal.

I saye ryght as I have seyd,

On hir was al my love leyd,

And yet she nyste hyt nat, never a del

Noght longe tyme, leve hyt wel!

For be ryght siker, I durste noght

1150 For al this world telle hir my thoght,

Ne I wolde have wraththed hir, trewely.

For wostow why? She was lady

Of the body; she had the herte,

And who hath that may not asterte.

But for to kepe me fro ydelnesse,

Trewly I dide my besynesse

To make songes, as I best koude,

And ofte tyme I song hem loude;

And made songes thus a gret del,

1160 Althogh I koude not make so wel

Songes, ne knewe the art al,

As koude Lamekes sone Tubal,

That found out first the art of songe;

For as hys brothres hamers ronge

Upon hys anvelt up and doun,

Therof he took the firste soun --

But Grekes seyn Pictagoras,

That he the firste fynder was

Of the art (Aurora telleth so);

1170 But therof no fors of hem two.

Algates songes thus I made

Of my felynge, myn herte to glade;

And, lo, this was [the] altherferste --

I not wher hyt were the werste.

`Lord, hyt maketh myn herte lyght

Whan I thenke on that swete wyght

That is so semely on to see;

And wisshe to God hit myghte so bee

That she wolde holde me for hir knyght,

1180 My lady, that is so fair and bryght!'

"Now have I told thee, soth to say,

My firste song. Upon a day

I bethoghte me what woo

And sorwe that I suffred thoo

For hir, and yet she wyste hyt noght,

Ne telle hir durste I nat my thoght.

`Allas,' thoghte I, `y kan no red;

And but I telle hir, I [nam] but ded;

And yif I telle hyr, to seye ryght soth,

1190 I am adred she wol be wroth.

Allas, what shal I thanne do?'

"In this debat I was so wo

Me thoghte myn herte braste atweyne!

So at the laste, soth to sayne,

I bethoghte me that Nature

Ne formed never in creature

So moche beaute, trewely,

And bounte, wythoute mercy.

In hope of that, my tale I tolde

1200 With sorwe, as that I never sholde,

For nedes, and mawgree my hed,

I most have told hir or be ded.

I not wel how that I began;

Ful evel rehersen hyt I kan;

And eke, as helpe me God withal,

I trowe hyt was in the dismal,

That was the ten woundes of Egipte --

For many a word I over-skipte

In my tale, for pure fere

1210 Lest my wordes mysset were.

With sorweful herte and woundes dede,

Softe and quakynge for pure drede

And shame, and styntynge in my tale

For ferde, and myn hewe al pale --

Ful ofte I wex bothe pale and red --

Bowynge to hir, I heng the hed;

I durste nat ones loke hir on,

For wit, maner, and al was goon.

I seyde `Mercy!' and no more.

1220 Hyt nas no game; hyt sat me sore.

"So at the laste, soth to seyn,

Whan that myn hert was come ageyn,

To telle shortly al my speche,

With hool herte I gan hir beseche

That she wolde be my lady swete;

And swor, and gan hir hertely hete

Ever to be stedfast and trewe,

And love hir alwey fresshly newe,

And never other lady have,

1230 And al hir worship for to save

As I best koude. I swor hir this:

`For youres is alle that ever ther ys

For evermore, myn herte swete!

And never to false yow, but I mete,

I nyl, as wys God helpe me soo!'

"And whan I had my tale y-doo,

God wot, she acounted nat a stree

Of al my tale, so thoghte me.

To telle shortly ryght as hyt ys,

1240 Trewly hir answere hyt was this --

I kan not now wel counterfete

Hir wordes, but this was the grete

Of hir answere: she sayde `Nay'

Al outerly. Allas, that day

The sorowe I suffred and the woo

That trewly Cassandra, that soo

Bewayled the destruccioun

Of Troye and of Ilyoun,

Had never swich sorwe as I thoo.

1250 I durste no more say thertoo

For pure fere, but stal away;

1252 And thus I lyved ful many a day,

That trewely I hadde no ned

Ferther than my beddes hed

Never a day to seche sorwe;

I fond hyt redy every morwe,

For-why I loved hyr in no gere.

"So hit befel, another yere

I thoughte ones I wolde fonde

1260 To do hir knowe and understonde

My woo; and she wel understod

That I ne wilned thyng but god,

And worship, and to kepe hir name

Over alle thynges, and drede hir shame,

And was so besy hyr to serve,

And pitee were I shulde sterve,

Syth that I wilned noon harm, ywis.

So whan my lady knew al this,

My lady yaf me al hooly

1270 The noble yifte of hir mercy,

Savynge hir worship by al weyes --

Dredles, I mene noon other weyes.

And therwith she yaf me a ryng;

I trowe hyt was the firste thyng;

But if myn herte was ywaxe

Glad, that is no nede to axe!

As helpe me God, I was as blyve

Reysed as fro deth to lyve --

Of al happes the alderbeste,

1280 The gladdest, and the moste at reste.

For trewely that swete wyght,

Whan I had wrong and she the ryght,

1283 She wolde alway so goodly

Foryeve me so debonairly.

In al my yowthe, in al chaunce,

She took me in hir governaunce.

Therwyth she was alway so trewe

Our joye was ever ylyche newe;

Oure hertes wern so evene a payre

1290 That never nas that oon contrayre

To that other for no woo.

For sothe, ylyche they suffred thoo

Oo blysse and eke oo sorwe bothe;

Ylyche they were bothe glad and wrothe;

Al was us oon, withoute were.

And thus we lyved ful many a yere

So wel I kan nat telle how."

"Sir," quod I, "where is she now?"

"Now?" quod he, and stynte anoon.

1300 Therwith he wax as ded as stoon

And seyde, "Allas, that I was bore!

That was the los that here-before

I tolde the that I hadde lorn.

Bethenke how I seyde here-beforn,

`Thow wost ful lytel what thow menest;

I have lost more than thow wenest.'

God wot, allas! Ryght that was she!"

"Allas, sir, how? What may that be?"

"She ys ded!" "Nay!" "Yis, be my trouthe!"

1310 "Is that youre los? Be God, hyt ys routhe!"

And with that word ryght anoon

They gan to strake forth; al was doon,

For that tyme, the hert-huntyng.

With that me thoghte that this kyng

Gan homwarde for to ryde

Unto a place, was there besyde,

Which was from us but a lyte --

A long castel with walles white,

Be Seynt Johan, on a ryche hil,

1320 As me mette; but thus hyt fil.

Ryght thus me mette, as I yow telle,

That in the castell ther was a belle,

As hyt hadde smyten houres twelve.

Therwyth I awook myselve

And fond me lyinge in my bed;

And the book that I hadde red,

Of Alcione and Seys the kyng,

And of the goddes of slepyng,

I fond hyt in myn hond ful even.

1330 Thoghte I, "Thys ys so queynt a sweven

That I wol, be processe of tyme,

Fonde to put this sweven in ryme

As I kan best, and that anoon."

This was my sweven; now hit ys doon.

THE HOUSE OF FAME

God turne us every drem to goode!

For hyt is wonder, be the roode,

To my wyt, what causeth swevenes

Eyther on morwes or on evenes,

And why th' effect folweth of somme,

And of somme hit shal never come;

Why that is an avision

And why this a revelacion,

Why this a drem, why that a sweven,

10 And noght to every man lyche even;

Why this a fantome, why these oracles,

I not; but whoso of these miracles

The causes knoweth bet then I,

Devyne he, for I certeinly

Ne kan hem noght, ne never thinke

To besily my wyt to swinke

To knowe of hir signifiaunce

The gendres, neyther the distaunce

Of tymes of hem, ne the causes,

20 Or why this more then that cause is --

As yf folkys complexions

Make hem dreme of reflexions,

Or ellys thus, as other sayn,

For to gret feblenesse of her brayn,

By abstinence or by seknesse,

Prison-stewe or gret distresse,

Or ellys by dysordynaunce

Of naturel acustumaunce,

That som man is to curious

30 In studye, or melancolyous,

Or thus so inly ful of drede

That no man may hym bote bede;

Or elles that devocion

Of somme, and contemplacion

Causeth suche dremes ofte;

Or that the cruel lyf unsofte

Which these ilke lovers leden

That hopen over-muche or dreden,

That purely her impressions

40 Causeth hem avisions;

Or yf that spirites have the myght

To make folk to dreme a-nyght;

Or yf the soule of propre kynde

Be so parfit, as men fynde,

That yt forwot that ys to come,

And that hyt warneth alle and some

Of everych of her aventures

Be avisions or be figures,

But that oure flessh ne hath no myght

50 To understonde hyt aryght,

For hyt is warned to derkly --

But why the cause is, noght wot I.

Wel worth of this thyng grete clerkys

That trete of this and other werkes,

For I of noon opinion

Nyl as now make mensyon,

But oonly that the holy roode

Turne us every drem to goode!

For never sith that I was born,

60 Ne no man elles me beforn,

Mette, I trowe stedfastly,

So wonderful a drem as I

The tenthe day now of Decembre,

The which, as I kan now remembre,

I wol yow tellen everydel.

But at my gynnynge, trusteth wel,

I wol make invocacion,

With special devocion,

Unto the god of slep anoon,

70 That duelleth in a cave of stoon

Upon a strem that cometh fro Lete,

That is a flood of helle unswete,

Besyde a folk men clepeth Cymerie --

There slepeth ay this god unmerie

With his slepy thousand sones,

That alwey for to slepe hir wone is.

And to this god that I of rede

Prey I that he wol me spede

My sweven for to telle aryght,

80 Yf every drem stonde in his myght.

And he that mover ys of al,

That is and was and ever shal,

So yive hem joye that hyt here

Of alle that they dreme to-yere,

And for to stonden alle in grace

Of her loves, or in what place

That hem were levest for to stonde,

And shelde hem fro poverte and shonde,

And from unhap and ech disese,

90 And sende hem al that may hem plese,

That take hit wel and skorne hyt noght,

Ne hyt mysdemen in her thoght

Thorgh malicious entencion.

And whoso thorgh presumpcion,

Or hate, or skorn, or thorgh envye,

Dispit, or jape, or vilanye,

Mysdeme hyt, pray I Jesus God

That (dreme he barefot, dreme he shod),

That every harm that any man

100 Hath had syth the world began

Befalle hym therof or he sterve,

And graunte he mote hit ful deserve,

Lo, with such a conclusion

As had of his avision

Cresus, that was kyng of Lyde,

That high upon a gebet dyde.

This prayer shal he have of me;

I am no bet in charyte!

Now herkeneth, as I have yow seyd,

110 What that I mette or I abreyd.

Of Decembre the tenthe day,

Whan hit was nyght to slepe I lay

Ryght ther as I was wont to done,

And fil on slepe wonder sone,

As he that wery was forgo

On pilgrymage myles two

To the corseynt Leonard,

To make lythe of that was hard.

But as I slepte, me mette I was

120 Withyn a temple ymad of glas,

In which ther were moo ymages

Of gold, stondynge in sondry stages,

And moo ryche tabernacles,

And with perre moo pynacles,

And moo curiouse portreytures,

And queynte maner of figures

Of olde werk, then I saugh ever.

For certeynly, I nyste never

Wher that I was, but wel wyste I

130 Hyt was of Venus redely,

The temple; for in portreyture

I sawgh anoon-ryght hir figure

Naked fletynge in a see,

And also on hir hed, pardee,

Hir rose garlond whit and red,

And hir comb to kembe hyr hed,

Hir dowves, and daun Cupido

Hir blynde sone, and Vulcano,

That in his face was ful broun.

140 But as I romed up and doun,

I fond that on a wall ther was

Thus writen on a table of bras:

"I wol now synge, yif I kan,

The armes and also the man

That first cam, thurgh his destinee,

Fugityf of Troy contree,

In Itayle, with ful moche pyne

Unto the strondes of Lavyne."

And tho began the story anoon,

150 As I shal telle yow echon.

First sawgh I the destruction

Of Troye thurgh the Grek Synon,

[That] with his false forswerynge,

And his chere and his lesynge,

Made the hors broght into Troye,

Thorgh which Troyens loste al her joye.

And aftir this was grave, allas,

How Ilyon assayled was

And wonne, and kyng Priam yslayn

160 And Polytes his sone, certayn,

Dispitously, of daun Pirrus.

And next that sawgh I how Venus,

Whan that she sawgh the castel brende,

Doun fro the heven gan descende,

And bad hir sone Eneas flee;

And how he fledde, and how that he

Escaped was from al the pres,

And took his fader Anchises,

And bar hym on hys bak away,

170 Cryinge, "Allas, and welaway!"

The whiche Anchises in hys hond

Bar the goddes of the lond,

Thilke that unbrende were.

And I saugh next, in al thys fere,

How Creusa, daun Eneas wif,

Which that he lovede as hys lyf,

And hir yonge sone Iulo,

And eke Askanius also,

Fledden eke with drery chere,

180 That hyt was pitee for to here;

And in a forest as they wente,

At a turnynge of a wente,

How Creusa was ylost, allas,

That ded, not I how, she was;

How he hir soughte, and how hir gost

Bad hym to flee the Grekes host,

And seyde he moste unto Itayle,

As was hys destinee, sauns faille;

That hyt was pitee for to here,

190 When hir spirit gan appere,

The wordes that she to hym seyde,

And for to kepe hir sone hym preyde.

Ther sawgh I graven eke how he,

Hys fader eke, and his meynee,

With hys shippes gan to saylle

Towardes the contree of Itaylle

As streight as that they myghte goo.

Ther saugh I thee, cruel Juno,

That art daun Jupiteres wif,

200 That hast yhated al thy lyf

Al the Troianysshe blood,

Renne and crye as thou were wood

On Eolus, the god of wyndes,

To blowen oute, of alle kyndes,

So lowde that he shulde drenche

Lord and lady, grom and wenche,

Of al the Troian nacion,

Withoute any savacion.

Ther saugh I such tempeste aryse

210 That every herte myght agryse

To see hyt peynted on the wal.

Ther saugh I graven eke withal,

Venus, how ye, my lady dere,

Wepynge with ful woful chere,

Prayen Jupiter on hye

To save and kepe that navye

Of the Troian Eneas,

Syth that he hir sone was.

Ther saugh I Joves Venus kysse,

220 And graunted of the tempest lysse.

Ther saugh I how the tempest stente,

And how with alle pyne he wente,

And prively tok arryvage

In the contree of Cartage;

And on the morwe, how that he

And a knyght highte Achate

Mette with Venus that day,

Goynge in a queynt array

As she had ben an hunteresse,

230 With wynd blowynge upon hir tresse;

How Eneas gan hym to pleyne,

When that he knew hir, of his peyne;

And how his shippes dreynte were,

Or elles lost, he nyste where;

How she gan hym comforte thoo,

And bad hym to Cartage goo,

And ther he shulde his folk fynde,

That in the see were left behynde.

And, shortly of this thyng to pace,

240 She made Eneas so in grace

Of Dido, quene of that contree,

That, shortly for to tellen, she

Becam hys love and let him doo

Al that weddynge longeth too.

What shulde I speke more queynte,

Or peyne me my wordes peynte

To speke of love? Hyt wol not be;

I kan not of that faculte.

And eke to telle the manere

250 How they aqueynteden in fere,

Hyt were a long proces to telle,

And over-long for yow to dwelle.

Ther sawgh I grave how Eneas

Tolde Dido every caas

That hym was tyd upon the see.

And after grave was how shee

Made of hym shortly at oo word

Hyr lyf, hir love, hir lust, hir lord,

And dide hym al the reverence

260 And leyde on hym al the dispence

That any woman myghte do,

Wenynge hyt had al be so

As he hir swor; and herby demed

That he was good, for he such semed.

Allas! what harm doth apparence,

Whan hit is fals in existence!

For he to hir a traytour was;

Wherfore she slow hirself, allas!

Loo, how a woman doth amys

270 To love hym that unknowen ys.

For, be Cryste, lo, thus yt fareth.

"Hyt is not al gold that glareth."

For also browke I wel myn hed,

Ther may be under godlyhed

Kevered many a shrewed vice.

Therfore be no wyght so nyce

To take a love oonly for chere,

Or speche, or for frendly manere,

For this shal every woman fynde,

280 That som man, of his pure kynde,

Wol shewen outward the fayreste,

Tyl he have caught that what him leste;

And thanne wol he causes fynde

And swere how that she ys unkynde,

Or fals, or privy, or double was.

Al this seye I be Eneas

And Dido, and hir nyce lest,

That loved al to sone a gest;

Therfore I wol seye a proverbe,

290 That "he that fully knoweth th' erbe

May saufly leye hyt to his ye" --

Withoute drede, this ys no lye.

But let us speke of Eneas,

How he betrayed hir, allas,

And lefte hir ful unkyndely.

So when she saw al utterly

That he wolde hir of trouthe fayle,

And wende fro hir to Itayle,

She gan to wringe hir hondes two.

300 "Allas," quod she, "what me ys woo!

Allas, is every man thus trewe,

That every yer wolde have a newe,

Yf hit so longe tyme dure,

Or elles three, peraventure?

As thus: of oon he wolde have fame

In magnyfyinge of hys name;

Another for frendshippe, seyth he;

And yet ther shal the thridde be

That shal be take for delyt,

310 Loo, or for synguler profit""

In suche wordes gan to pleyne

Dydo of hir grete peyne,

As me mette redely --

Non other auctour alegge I.

"Allas!" quod she, "my swete herte,

Have pitee on my sorwes smerte,

And slee mee not! Goo noght awey!

O woful Dido, wel-away!"

Quod she to hirselve thoo.

320 "O Eneas, what wol ye doo?

O that your love, ne your bond

That ye have sworn with your ryght hond,

Ne my crewel deth," quod she,

"May holde yow stille here with me!

O haveth of my deth pitee!

Iwys, my dere herte, ye

Knowen ful wel that never yit,

As ferforth as I hadde wyt,

Agylte [I] yow in thoght ne dede.

330 O, have ye men such godlyhede

In speche, and never a del of trouthe?

Allas, that ever hadde routhe

Any woman on any man!

Now see I wel, and telle kan,

We wrechched wymmen konne noon art;

For certeyn, for the more part,

Thus we be served everychone.

How sore that ye men konne groone,

Anoon as we have yow receyved,

340 Certaynly we ben deceyvyd!

For, though your love laste a seson,

Wayte upon the conclusyon,

And eke how that ye determynen,

And for the more part diffynen.

"O wel-awey that I was born!

For thorgh yow is my name lorn,

And alle myn actes red and songe

Over al thys lond, on every tonge.

O wikke Fame! -- for ther nys

350 Nothing so swift, lo, as she is.

O, soth ys, every thing ys wyst,

Though hit be kevered with the myst.

Eke, though I myghte duren ever,

That I have don rekever I never,

That I ne shal be seyd, allas,

Yshamed be thourgh Eneas,

And that I shal thus juged be:

`Loo, ryght as she hath don, now she

Wol doo eft-sones, hardely' --

360 Thus seyth the peple prively."

But that is don, is not to done;

Al hir compleynt ne al hir moone,

Certeyn, avayleth hir not a stre.

And when she wiste sothly he

Was forth unto his shippes goon,

She into hir chambre wente anoon,

And called on hir suster Anne,

And gan hir to compleyne thanne,

And seyde that she cause was

370 That she first loved him, allas,

And thus counseylled hir thertoo.

But what! When this was seyd and doo,

She rof hirselve to the herte

And deyde thorgh the wounde smerte.

And al the maner how she deyde,

And alle the wordes that she seyde,

Whoso to knowe hit hath purpos,

Rede Virgile in Eneydos

Or the Epistle of Ovyde,

380 What that she wrot or that she dyde;

And nere hyt to long to endyte,

Be God, I wolde hyt here write.

But wel-away, the harm, the routhe,

That hath betyd for such untrouthe,

As men may ofte in bokes rede,

And al day sen hyt yet in dede,

That for to thynken hyt, a tene is.

Loo Demophon, duk of Athenys,

How he forswor hym ful falsly,

390 And traysed Phillis wikkidly,

That kynges doghtre was of Trace,

And falsly gan hys terme pace;

And when she wiste that he was fals,

She heng hirself ryght be the hals,

For he had doon hir such untrouthe.

Loo, was not this a woo and routhe?

Eke lo how fals and reccheles

Was to Breseyda Achilles,

And Paris to Oenone,

400 And Jason to Isiphile,

And eft Jason to Medea,

And Ercules to Dyanira,

For he left hir for Yole,

That made hym cache his deth, parde.

How fals eke was he Theseus,

That, as the story telleth us,

How he betrayed Adriane --

The devel be hys soules bane!

For had he lawghed, had he loured,

410 He moste have ben al devoured,

Yf Adriane ne had ybe.

And for she had of hym pite,

She made hym fro the deth escape,

And he made hir a ful fals jape;

For aftir this, withyn a while,

He lefte hir slepynge in an ile

Desert allone, ryght in the se,

And stal away and let hir be,

And took hir suster Phedra thoo

420 With him, and gan to shippe goo.

And yet he had yswore to here

On al that ever he myghte swere

That, so she saved hym hys lyf,

He wolde have take hir to hys wif;

For she desired nothing ellis,

In certeyn, as the book us tellis.

But to excusen Eneas

Fullyche of al his grete trespas,

The book seyth Mercurie, sauns fayle,

430 Bad hym goo into Itayle,

And leve Auffrikes regioun,

And Dido and hir faire toun.

Thoo sawgh I grave how to Itayle

Daun Eneas is goo to sayle;

And how the tempest al began,

And how he loste hys sterisman,

Which that the stere, or he tok kep,

Smot over bord, loo, as he slep.

And also sawgh I how Sybile

440 And Eneas, besyde an yle,

To helle wente for to see

His fader, Anchyses the free;

How he ther fond Palinurus,

And Dido, and eke Deiphebus;

And every turment eke in helle

Saugh he, which is longe to telle;

Which whoso willeth for to knowe,

He moste rede many a rowe

On Virgile or on Claudian,

450 Or Daunte, that hit telle kan.

Tho saugh I grave al the aryvayle

That Eneas had in Itayle;

And with kyng Latyne hys tretee

And alle the batayles that hee

Was at hymself, and eke hys knyghtis,

Or he had al ywonne his ryghtis;

And how he Turnus reft his lyf,

And wan Lavina to his wif;

And alle the mervelous signals

460 Of the goddys celestials;

How, mawgree Juno, Eneas,

For al hir sleight and hir compas,

Acheved al his aventure,

For Jupiter took of hym cure

At the prayer of Venus --

The whiche I preye alwey save us,

And us ay of oure sorwes lyghte!

When I had seen al this syghte

In this noble temple thus,

470 "A, Lord," thoughte I, "that madest us,

Yet sawgh I never such noblesse

Of ymages, ne such richesse,

As I saugh graven in this chirche;

But not wot I whoo did hem wirche,

Ne where I am, ne in what contree.

But now wol I goo out and see,

Ryght at the wiket, yf y kan

See owhere any stiryng man

That may me telle where I am."

480 When I out at the dores cam,

I faste aboute me beheld.

Then sawgh I but a large feld,

As fer as that I myghte see,

Withouten toun, or hous, or tree,

Or bush, or grass, or eryd lond;

For al the feld nas but of sond

As smal as man may se yet lye

In the desert of Lybye.

Ne no maner creature

490 That ys yformed be Nature

Ne sawgh I, me to rede or wisse.

"O Crist," thoughte I, "that art in blysse,

Fro fantome and illusion

Me save!" And with devocion

Myn eyen to the hevene I caste.

Thoo was I war, lo, at the laste,

That faste be the sonne, as hye

As kenne myghte I with myn ye,

Me thoughte I sawgh an egle sore,

500 But that hit semed moche more

Then I had any egle seyn.

But this as sooth as deth, certeyn,

Hyt was of gold, and shon so bryghte

That never sawe men such a syghte,

But yf the heven had ywonne

Al newe of gold another sonne;

So shone the egles fethers bryghte,

And somwhat dounward gan hyt lyghte.

Now herkeneth every maner man

510 That Englissh understonde kan

And [listeth. of my drem to lere,

For now at erste shul ye here

So sely an avisyon,

That Isaye, ne Scipion,

Ne kyng Nabugodonosor,

Pharoo, Turnus, ne Elcanor,

Ne mette such a drem as this.

Now faire blisfull, O Cipris,

So be my favour at this tyme!

520 And ye, me to endite and ryme

Helpeth, that on Parnaso duelle,

Be Elicon, the clere welle.

O Thought, that wrot al that I mette,

And in the tresorye hyt shette

Of my brayn, now shal men se

Yf any vertu in the be

To tellen al my drem aryght.

Now kythe thyn engyn and myght!

This egle, of which I have yow told,

530 That shon with fethres as of gold,

Which that so hye gan to sore,

I gan beholde more and more

To se the beaute and the wonder;

But never was ther dynt of thonder,

Ne that thyng that men calle fouder,

That smot somtyme a tour to powder

And in his swifte comynge brende,

That so swithe gan descende

As this foul, when hyt beheld

540 That I a-roume was in the feld.

And with hys grymme pawes stronge,

Withyn hys sharpe nayles longe,

Me, fleynge, in a swap he hente,

And with hys sours ayen up wente,

Me caryinge in his clawes starke

As lyghtly as I were a larke,

How high, I can not telle yow,

For I cam up, y nyste how.

For so astonyed and asweved

550 Was every vertu in my heved,

What with his sours and with my drede,

That al my felynge gan to dede,

For-whi hit was to gret affray.

Thus I longe in hys clawes lay,

Til at the laste he to me spak

In mannes vois, and seyde, "Awak!

And be not agast so, for shame!"

And called me tho by my name,

And for I shulde the bet abreyde,

560 Me mette "Awak," to me he seyde

Ryght in the same vois and stevene

That useth oon I koude nevene;

And with that vois, soth for to seyn,

My mynde cam to me ageyn,

For hyt was goodly seyd to me,

So nas hyt never wont to be.

And here-withal I gan to stere,

And he me in his fet to bere,

Til that he felte that I had hete,

570 And felte eke tho myn herte bete.

And thoo gan he me to disporte,

And with wordes to comforte,

And sayde twyes, "Seynte Marye,

Thou art noyous for to carye!

And nothyng nedeth it, pardee,

For also wis God helpe me,

As thou noon harm shalt have of this;

And this caas that betyd the is,

Is for thy lore and for thy prow.

580 Let see! Darst thou yet loke now?

Be ful assured, boldely,

I am thy frend." And therwith I

Gan for to wondren in my mynde.

"O God," thoughte I, "that madest kynde,

Shal I noon other weyes dye?

Wher Joves wol me stellyfye,

Or what thing may this sygnifye?

I neyther am Ennok, ne Elye,

Ne Romulus, ne Ganymede,

590 That was ybore up, as men rede,

To hevene with daun Jupiter,

And mad the goddys botiller."

Loo, this was thoo my fantasye.

But he that bar me gan espye

That I so thoughte, and seyde this:

"Thow demest of thyself amys,

For Joves ys not theraboute --

I dar wel putte the out of doute --

To make of the as yet a sterre;

600 But er I bere the moche ferre,

I wol the telle what I am,

And whider thou shalt, and why I cam

To do thys, so that thou take

Good herte, and not for fere quake."

"Gladly," quod I. "Now wel," quod he,

"First, I, that in my fet have the,

Of which thou hast a fere and wonder,

Am dwellynge with the god of thonder,

Which that men callen Jupiter,

610 That dooth me flee ful ofte fer

To do al hys comaundement.

And for this cause he hath me sent

To the. Now herke, be thy trouthe:

Certeyn, he hath of the routhe

That thou so longe trewely

Hast served so ententyfly

Hys blynde nevew Cupido,

And faire Venus also,

Withoute guerdon ever yit,

620 And never-the-lesse hast set thy wit --

Although that in thy hed ful lyte is --

To make bookys, songes, dytees,

In ryme or elles in cadence,

As thou best canst, in reverence

Of Love and of hys servantes eke,

That have hys servyse soght, and seke;

And peynest the to preyse hys art,

Although thou haddest never part.

Wherfore, also God me blesse,

630 Joves halt hyt gret humblesse

And vertu eke, that thou wolt make

A-nyght ful ofte thyn hed to ake

In thy studye, so thou writest,

And ever mo of love enditest,

In honour of hym and in preysynges,

And in his folkes furtherynges,

And in hir matere al devisest,

And noght hym nor his folk dispisest,

Although thou maist goo in the daunce

640 Of hem that hym lyst not avaunce.

"Wherfore, as I seyde, ywys,

Jupiter considereth this,

And also, beau sir, other thynges:

That is, that thou hast no tydynges

Of Loves folk yf they be glade,

Ne of noght elles that God made;

And noght oonly fro fer contree

That ther no tydynge cometh to thee,

But of thy verray neyghebores,

650 That duellen almost at thy dores,

Thou herist neyther that ne this;

For when thy labour doon al ys,

And hast mad alle thy rekenynges,

In stede of reste and newe thynges

Thou goost hom to thy hous anoon,

And, also domb as any stoon,

Thou sittest at another book

Tyl fully daswed ys thy look;

And lyvest thus as an heremyte,

660 Although thyn abstynence ys lyte.

"And therfore Joves, thorgh hys grace,

Wol that I bere the to a place

Which that hight the Hous of Fame,

To do the som disport and game,

In som recompensacion

Of labour and devocion

That thou hast had, loo causeles,

To Cupido the rechcheles.

And thus this god, thorgh his merite,

670 Wol with som maner thing the quyte,

So that thou wolt be of good chere.

For truste wel that thou shalt here,

When we be come there I seye,

Mo wonder thynges, dar I leye,

And of Loves folk moo tydynges,

Both sothe sawes and lesinges,

And moo loves newe begonne,

And longe yserved loves wonne,

And moo loves casuelly

680 That ben betyd, no man wot why,

But as a blynd man stert an hare;

And more jolytee and fare

While that they fynde love of stel,

As thinketh hem, and over-al wel;

Mo discordes, moo jelousies,

Mo murmures and moo novelries,

And moo dissymulacions,

And feyned reparacions,

And moo berdys in two houres

690 Withoute rasour or sisoures

Ymad then greynes be of sondes;

And eke moo holdynge in hondes,

And also moo renovelaunces

Of olde forleten aqueyntaunces;

Mo love-dayes and acordes

Then on instrumentes be cordes;

And eke of loves moo eschaunges

Then ever cornes were in graunges --

Unnethe maistow trowen this?"

700 Quod he. "Noo, helpe me God so wys,"

Quod I. "Noo? why?" quod he. "For hyt

Were impossible, to my wit,

Though that Fame had alle the pies

In al a realme, and alle the spies,

How that yet she shulde here al this,

Or they espie hyt." "O yis, yis!"

Quod he to me, "that kan I preve

Be reson worthy for to leve,

So that thou yeve thyn advertence

710 To understonde my sentence.

"First shalt thou here where she duelleth,

And so thyn oune bok hyt tellith.

Hir paleys stant, as I shal seye,

Ryght even in myddes of the weye

Betwixen hevene and erthe and see,

That what so ever in al these three

Is spoken, either privy or apert,

The way therto ys so overt,

And stant eke in so juste a place

720 That every soun mot to hyt pace;

Or what so cometh from any tonge,

Be hyt rouned, red, or songe,

Or spoke in suerte or in drede,

Certeyn, hyt moste thider nede.

"Now herkene wel, for-why I wille

Tellen the a propre skille

And a worthy demonstracion

In myn ymagynacion.

"Geffrey, thou wost ryght wel this,

730 That every kyndely thyng that is

Hath a kyndely stede ther he

May best in hyt conserved be;

Unto which place every thyng

Thorgh his kyndely enclynyng

Moveth for to come to

Whan that hyt is awey therfro;

As thus: loo, thou maist alday se

That any thing that hevy be,

As stoon, or led, or thyng of wighte,

740 And bere hyt never so hye on highte,

Lat goo thyn hand, hit falleth doun.

Ryght so seye I be fyr or soun,

Or smoke or other thynges lyghte;

Alwey they seke upward on highte,

While ech of hem is at his large:

Lyght thing upward, and dounward charge.

And for this cause mayst thou see

That every ryver to the see

Enclyned ys to goo by kynde,

750 And by these skilles, as I fynde,

Hath fyssh duellynge in flood and see,

And trees eke in erthe bee.

Thus every thing, by thys reson,

Hath his propre mansyon

To which hit seketh to repaire,

Ther-as hit shulde not apaire.

Loo, this sentence ys knowen kouth

Of every philosophres mouth,

As Aristotle and daun Platon,

760 And other clerkys many oon;

And to confirme my resoun,

Thou wost wel this, that spech is soun,

Or elles no man myghte hyt here;

Now herke what y wol the lere.

"Soun ys noght but eyr ybroken;

And every speche that ys spoken,

Lowd or pryvee, foul or fair,

In his substaunce ys but air;

For as flaumbe ys but lyghted smoke,

770 Ryght soo soun ys air ybroke.

But this may be in many wyse,

Of which I wil the twoo devyse,

As soun that cometh of pipe or harpe.

For whan a pipe is blowen sharpe

The air ys twyst with violence

And rent -- loo, thys ys my sentence.

Eke whan men harpe-strynges smyte,

Whether hyt be moche or lyte,

Loo, with the strok the ayr tobreketh.

780 And ryght so breketh it when men speketh.

Thus wost thou wel what thing is speche.

"Now hennesforth y wol the teche

How every speche, or noyse, or soun,

Thurgh hys multiplicacioun,

Thogh hyt were piped of a mous,

Mot nede come to Fames Hous.

I preve hyt thus -- take hede now --

Be experience; for yf that thow

Throwe on water now a stoon,

790 Wel wost thou hyt wol make anoon

A litel roundell as a sercle,

Paraunter brod as a covercle;

And ryght anoon thow shalt see wel

That whel wol cause another whel,

And that the thridde, and so forth, brother,

Every sercle causynge other

Wydder than hymselve was;

And thus fro roundel to compas,

Ech aboute other goynge

800 Causeth of othres sterynge

And multiplyinge ever moo,

Til that hyt be so fer ygoo

That hyt at bothe brynkes bee.

Although thou mowe hyt not ysee

Above, hyt gooth yet alway under,

Although thou thenke hyt a gret wonder.

And whoso seyth of trouthe I varye,

Bid hym proven the contrarye.

And ryght thus every word, ywys,

810 That lowd or pryvee spoken ys,

Moveth first an ayr aboute,

And of thys movynge, out of doute,

Another ayr anoon ys meved;

As I have of the watir preved,

That every cercle causeth other,

Ryght so of ayr, my leve brother:

Everych ayr another stereth

More and more, and speche up bereth,

Or voys, or noyse, or word, or soun,

820 Ay through multiplicacioun,

Til hyt be atte Hous of Fame --

Take yt in ernest or in game.

"Now have I told, yf thou have mynde,

How speche or soun, of pure kynde,

Enclyned ys upward to meve --

This mayst thou fele wel I preve --

And that same place, ywys,

That every thyng enclyned to ys

Hath his kyndelyche stede:

830 That sheweth hyt, withouten drede,

That kyndely the mansioun

Of every speche, of every soun,

Be hyt eyther foul or fair,

Hath hys kynde place in ayr.

And syn that every thyng that is

Out of hys kynde place, ywys,

Moveth thidder for to goo,

Yif hyt aweye be therfroo --

As I have before preved the --

840 Hyt seweth, every soun, parde,

Moveth kyndely to pace

Al up into his kyndely place.

And this place of which I telle,

Ther as Fame lyst to duelle,

Ys set amyddys of these three,

Heven, erthe, and eke the see,

As most conservatyf the soun.

Than ys this the conclusyoun:

That every speche of every man,

850 As y the telle first began,

Moveth up on high to pace

Kyndely to Fames place.

"Telle me this now feythfully,

Have y not preved thus symply,

Withoute any subtilite

Of speche, or gret prolixite

Of termes of philosophie,

Of figures of poetrie,

Or colours of rethorike?

860 Pardee, hit oughte the to lyke,

For hard langage and hard matere

Ys encombrous for to here

Attones; wost thou not wel this?"

And y answered and seyde, "Yis."

"A ha," quod he, "lo, so I can

Lewedly to a lewed man

Speke, and shewe hym swyche skiles

That he may shake hem be the biles,

So palpable they shulden be.

870 But telle me this, now praye y the,

How thinketh the my conclusyon?"

[Quod he]. "A good persuasion,"

Quod I, "hyt is, and lyk to be

Ryght so as thou hast preved me."

"Be God," quod he, "and as I leve,

Thou shalt have yet, or hit be eve,

Of every word of thys sentence

A preve by experience,

And with thyne eres heren wel,

880 Top and tayl and everydel,

That every word that spoken ys

Cometh into Fames Hous, ywys,

As I have seyd; what wilt thou more?"

And with this word upper to sore

He gan, and seyde, "Be Seynt Jame,

Now wil we speken al of game!"

"How farest thou?" quod he to me.

"Wel," quod I. "Now see," quod he,

"By thy trouthe, yond adoun,

890 Wher that thou knowest any toun,

Or hous, or any other thing.

And whan thou hast of ought knowyng,

Looke that thou warne me,

And y anoon shal telle the

How fer that thou art now therfro."

And y adoun gan loken thoo,

And beheld feldes and playnes,

And now hilles, and now mountaynes,

Now valeyes, now forestes,

900 And now unnethes grete bestes,

Now ryveres, now citees,

Now tounes, and now grete trees,

Now shippes seyllynge in the see.

But thus sone in a while he

Was flowen fro the ground so hye

That al the world, as to myn ye,

No more semed than a prikke;

Or elles was the air so thikke

That y ne myghte not discerne.

910 With that he spak to me as yerne,

And seyde, "Seest thou any [toun]

Or ought thou knowest yonder doun?"

I sayde, "Nay." "No wonder nys,"

Quod he, "for half so high as this

Nas Alixandre Macedo;

Ne the kyng, Daun Scipio,

That saw in drem, at poynt devys,

Helle and erthe and paradys;

Ne eke the wrechche Dedalus,

920 Ne his child, nyce Ykarus,

That fleigh so highe that the hete

Hys wynges malt, and he fel wete

In myd the see, and ther he dreynte,

For whom was maked moch compleynte.

"Now turn upward," quod he, "thy face,

And behold this large space,

This eyr, but loke thou ne be

Adrad of hem that thou shalt se,

For in this region, certeyn,

930 Duelleth many a citezeyn,

Of which that speketh Daun Plato;

These ben the eyryssh bestes, lo!"

And so saw y all that meynee

Boothe goon and also flee.

"Now," quod he thoo, "cast up thyn ye.

Se yonder, loo, the Galaxie,

Which men clepeth the Milky Wey

For hit ys whit (and somme, parfey,

Kallen hyt Watlynge Strete),

940 That ones was ybrent with hete,

Whan the sonnes sone the rede,

That highte Pheton, wolde lede

Algate hys fader carte, and gye.

The carte-hors gonne wel espye

That he koude no governaunce,

And gonne for to lepe and launce,

And beren hym now up, now doun,

Til that he sey the Scorpioun,

Which that in heven a sygne is yit.

950 And he for ferde loste hys wyt

Of that, and let the reynes gon

Of his hors; and they anoon

Gonne up to mounte and doun descende,

Til bothe the eyr and erthe brende,

Til Jupiter, loo, atte laste,

Hym slow, and fro the carte caste.

Loo, ys it not a gret myschaunce

To lete a fool han governaunce

Of thing that he can not demeyne?"

960 And with this word, soth for to seyne,

He gan alway upper to sore,

And gladded me ay more and more,

So feythfully to me spak he.

Tho gan y loken under me

And beheld the ayerissh bestes,

Cloudes, mystes, and tempestes,

Snowes, hayles, reynes, wyndes,

And th' engendrynge in hir kyndes,

All the wey thrugh which I cam.

970 "O God," quod y, "that made Adam,

Moche ys thy myght and thy noblesse!"

And thoo thoughte y upon Boece,

That writ, "A thought may flee so hye

Wyth fetheres of Philosophye,

To passen everych element,

And whan he hath so fer ywent,

Than may be seen behynde hys bak

Cloude" -- and al that y of spak.

Thoo gan y wexen in a were,

980 And seyde, "Y wot wel y am here,

But wher in body or in gost

I not, ywys, but God, thou wost,"

For more clere entendement

Nas me never yit ysent.

And than thoughte y on Marcian,

And eke on Anteclaudian,

That sooth was her descripsion

Of alle the hevenes region,

As fer as that y sey the preve;

990 Therfore y kan hem now beleve.

With that this egle gan to crye,

"Lat be," quod he, "thy fantasye!

Wilt thou lere of sterres aught?"

"Nay, certeynly," quod y, "ryght naught."

"And why?" "For y am now to old."

"Elles I wolde the have told,"

Quod he, "the sterres names, lo,

And al the hevenes sygnes therto,

And which they ben." "No fors," quod y.

1000 "Yis, pardee," quod he; "wostow why?

For when thou redest poetrie,

How goddes gonne stellifye

Bridd, fissh, best, or him or here,

As the Raven or eyther Bere,

Or Arionis harpe fyn,

Castor, Pollux, or Delphyn,

Or Athalantes doughtres sevene,

How alle these arn set in hevene;

For though thou have hem ofte on honde,

1010 Yet nostow not wher that they stonde."

"No fors," quod y, "hyt is no nede.

I leve as wel, so God me spede,

Hem that write of this matere,

As though I knew her places here;

And eke they shynen here so bryghte,

Hyt shulde shenden al my syghte

To loke on hem." "That may wel be,"

Quod he. And so forth bar he me

A while, and than he gan to crye,

1020 That never herde I thing so hye,

"Now up the hed, for al ys wel;

Seynt Julyan, loo, bon hostel!

Se here the Hous of Fame, lo!

Maistow not heren that I do?"

"What?" quod I. "The grete soun,"

Quod he, "that rumbleth up and doun

In Fames Hous, full of tydynges,

Bothe of feir speche and chidynges,

And of fals and soth compouned.

1030 Herke wel; hyt is not rouned.

Herestow not the grete swogh?"

"Yis, parde," quod y, "wel ynogh."

"And what soun is it lyk?" quod hee.

"Peter, lyk betynge of the see,"

Quod y, "ayen the roches holowe,

Whan tempest doth the shippes swalowe,

And lat a man stonde, out of doute,

A myle thens, and here hyt route;

Or elles lyk the last humblynge

1040 After the clappe of a thundringe,

Whan Joves hath the air ybete.

But yt doth me for fere swete."

"Nay, dred the not therof," quod he;

"Hyt is nothing will byten the;

Thou shalt non harm have trewely."

And with this word both he and y

As nygh the place arryved were

As men may casten with a spere.

Y nyste how, but in a strete

1050 He sette me fair on my fete,

And seyde, "Walke forth a pas,

And tak thyn aventure or cas

That thou shalt fynde in Fames place."

"Now," quod I, "while we han space

To speke, or that I goo fro the,

For the love of God, telle me --

In sooth, that wil I of the lere --

Yf thys noyse that I here

Be, as I have herd the tellen,

1060 Of folk that doun in erthe duellen,

And cometh here in the same wyse

As I the herde or this devyse;

And that there lives body nys

In al that hous that yonder ys,

That maketh al this loude fare."

"Noo," quod he, "by Seynte Clare,

And also wis God rede me;

But o thing y will warne the,

Of the whiche thou wolt have wonder.

1070 Loo, to the Hous of Fame yonder,

Thou wost now how, cometh every speche --

Hyt nedeth noght eft the to teche.

But understond now ryght wel this:

Whan any speche ycomen ys

Up to the paleys, anon-ryght

Hyt wexeth lyk the same wight

Which that the word in erthe spak,

Be hyt clothed red or blak;

And hath so verray hys lyknesse

1080 That spak the word, that thou wilt gesse

That it the same body be,

Man or woman, he or she.

And ys not this a wonder thyng?"

"Yis," quod I tho, "by heven kyng!"

And with this word, "Farewel," quod he,

"And here I wol abyden the;

And God of heven sende the grace

Some good to lernen in this place."

And I of him tok leve anon,

1090 And gan forth to the paleys gon.

O God of science and of lyght,

Appollo, thurgh thy grete myght,

This lytel laste bok thou gye!

Nat that I wilne, for maistrye,

Here art poetical be shewed,

But for the rym ys lyght and lewed,

Yit make hyt sumwhat agreable,

Though som vers fayle in a sillable;

And that I do no diligence

1100 To shewe craft, but o sentence.

And yif, devyne vertu, thow

Wilt helpe me to shewe now

That in myn hed ymarked ys --

Loo, that is for to menen this,

The Hous of Fame for to descryve --

Thou shalt se me go as blyve

Unto the nexte laure y see,

And kysse yt, for hyt is thy tree.

Now entre in my brest anoon!

1110 Whan I was fro thys egle goon,

I gan beholde upon this place.

And certein, or I ferther pace,

I wol yow al the shap devyse

Of hous and [site], and al the wyse

How I gan to thys place aproche

That stood upon so hygh a roche,

Hier stant ther non in Spayne.

But up I clomb with alle payne,

And though to clymbe it greved me,

1120 Yit I ententyf was to see,

And for to powren wonder lowe,

Yf I koude any weyes knowe

What maner stoon this roche was.

For hyt was lyk alum de glas,

But that hyt shoon ful more clere;

But of what congeled matere

Hyt was, I nyste redely.

But at the laste aspied I,

And found that hit was every del

1130 A roche of yse, and not of stel.

Thoughte I, "By Seynt Thomas of Kent,

This were a feble fundament

To bilden on a place hye.

He ought him lytel glorifye

That hereon bilt, God so me save!"

Tho sawgh I al the half ygrave

With famous folkes names fele,

That had iben in mochel wele,

And her fames wide yblowe.

1140 But wel unnethes koude I knowe

Any lettres for to rede

Hir names by; for, out of drede,

They were almost ofthowed so

That of the lettres oon or two

Was molte away of every name,

So unfamous was woxe hir fame.

But men seyn, "What may ever laste?"

Thoo gan I in myn herte caste

That they were molte awey with hete,

1150 And not awey with stormes bete.

For on that other syde I say

Of this hil, that northward lay,

How hit was writen ful of names

Of folkes that hadden grete fames

Of olde tyme, and yet they were

As fressh as men had writen hem here

The selve day ryght, or that houre

That I upon hem gan to poure.

But wel I wiste what yt made;

1160 Hyt was conserved with the shade

Of a castel that stood on high --

Al this writynge that I sigh --

And stood eke on so cold a place

That hete myghte hit not deface.

Thoo gan I up the hil to goon,

And fond upon the cop a woon,

That al the men that ben on lyve

Ne han the kunnynge to descrive

The beaute of that ylke place,

1170 Ne coude casten no compace

Swich another for to make,

That myght of beaute ben hys make,

Ne so wonderlych ywrought;

That hit astonyeth yit my thought,

And maketh al my wyt to swynke,

On this castel to bethynke,

So that the grete craft, beaute,

The cast, the curiosite

Ne kan I not to yow devyse;

1180 My wit ne may me not suffise.

But natheles al the substance

I have yit in my remembrance;

For whi me thoughte, be Seynt Gyle,

Al was of ston of beryle,

Bothe the castel and the tour,

And eke the halle and every bour,

Wythouten peces or joynynges.

But many subtil compassinges,

[Babewynnes] and pynacles,

1190 Ymageries and tabernacles

I say; and ful eke of wyndowes

As flakes falle in grete snowes.

And eke in ech of the pynacles

Weren sondry habitacles,

In which stoden, al withoute --

Ful the castel, al aboute --

Of alle maner of mynstralles

And gestiours that tellen tales

Both of wepinge and of game,

1200 Of al that longeth unto Fame.

Ther herde I pleyen on an harpe,

That sowned bothe wel and sharpe,

Orpheus ful craftely,

And on his syde, faste by,

Sat the harper Orion,

And Eacides Chiron,

And other harpers many oon,

And the Bret Glascurion;

And smale harpers with her glees

1210 Sate under hem in dyvers sees,

And gunne on hem upward to gape,

And countrefete hem as an ape,

Or as craft countrefeteth kynde.

Tho saugh I stonden hem behynde,

Afer fro hem, al be hemselve,

Many thousand tymes twelve,

That maden lowde mynstralcies

In cornemuse and shalemyes,

And many other maner pipe,

1220 That craftely begunne to pipe,

Bothe in doucet and in rede,

That ben at festes with the brede;

And many flowte and liltyng horn,

And pipes made of grene corn,

As han thise lytel herde-gromes

That kepen bestis in the bromes.

Ther saugh I than Atiteris,

And of Athenes daun Pseustis,

And Marcia that loste her skyn,

1230 Bothe in face, body, and chyn,

For that she wolde envien, loo,

To pipen bet than Appolloo.

Ther saugh I famous, olde and yonge,

Pipers of the Duche tonge,

To lerne love-daunces, sprynges,

Reyes, and these straunge thynges.

Tho saugh I in an other place

Stonden in a large space,

Of hem that maken blody soun

1240 In trumpe, beme, and claryoun;

For in fight and blod-shedynge

Ys used gladly clarionynge.

Ther herde I trumpen Messenus,

Of whom that speketh Virgilius.

There herde I trumpe Joab also,

Theodomas, and other mo;

And alle that used clarion

In Cataloigne and Aragon,

That in her tyme famous were

1250 To lerne, saugh I trumpe there.

There saugh I sitte in other sees,

Pleyinge upon sondry glees,

Whiche that I kan not nevene,

Moo than sterres ben in hevene,

Of whiche I nyl as now not ryme,

For ese of yow and los of tyme.

For tyme ylost, this knowen ye,

Be no way may recovered be.

Ther saugh I pleye jugelours,

1260 Magiciens, and tregetours,

And Phitonesses, charmeresses,

Olde wicches, sorceresses,

That use exorsisacions,

And eke these fumygacions;

And clerkes eke, which konne wel

Al this magik naturel,

That craftely doon her ententes

To make, in certeyn ascendentes,

Ymages, lo, thrugh which magik

1270 To make a man ben hool or syk.

Ther saugh I the, quene Medea,

And Circes eke, and Calipsa;

Ther saugh I Hermes Ballenus,

Limote, and eke Symon Magus.

There saugh I, and knew hem by name,

That by such art don men han fame.

Ther saugh I Colle tregetour

Upon a table of sycamour

Pleye an uncouth thyng to telle --

1280 Y saugh him carien a wynd-melle

Under a walsh-note shale.

What shuld I make lenger tale

Of alle the pepil y ther say,

Fro hennes into domes day?

Whan I had al this folk beholde,

And fond me lous and nought yholde,

And eft imused longe while

Upon these walles of berile,

That shoone ful lyghter than a glas

1290 And made wel more than hit was

To semen every thing, ywis,

As kynde thyng of Fames is,

I gan forth romen til I fond

The castel-yate on my ryght hond,

Which that so wel corven was

That never such another nas;

And yit it was be aventure

Iwrought, as often as be cure.

Hyt nedeth noght yow more to tellen,

1300 To make yow to longe duellen,

Of this yates florisshinges,

Ne of compasses, ne of kervynges,

Ne how they hatte in masoneries,

As corbetz, ful of ymageries.

But Lord, so fair yt was to shewe,

For hit was al with gold behewe.

But in I wente, and that anoon.

Ther mette I cryinge many oon,

"A larges, larges, hold up wel!

1310 God save the lady of thys pel,

Our oune gentil lady Fame,

And hem that wilnen to have name

Of us!" Thus herde y crien alle,

And faste comen out of halle

And shoken nobles and sterlynges.

And somme corouned were as kynges,

With corounes wroght ful of losenges;

And many ryban and many frenges

Were on her clothes trewely.

1320 Thoo atte last aspyed y

That pursevantes and heraudes,

That crien ryche folkes laudes,

Hyt weren alle; and every man

Of hem, as y yow tellen can,

Had on him throwen a vesture

Which that men clepe a cote-armure,

Enbrowded wonderliche ryche,

Although they nere nought ylyche.

But noght nyl I, so mote y thryve,

1330 Ben aboute to dyscryve

Alle these armes that ther weren,

That they thus on her cotes beren,

For hyt to me were impossible;

Men myghte make of hem a bible

Twenty foot thykke, as y trowe.

For certeyn, whoso koude iknowe

Myghte ther alle the armes seen

Of famous folk that han ybeen

In Auffrike, Europe, and Asye,

1340 Syth first began the chevalrie.

Loo, how shulde I now telle al thys?

Ne of the halle eke what nede is

To tellen yow that every wal

Of hit, and flor, and roof, and al

Was plated half a foote thikke

Of gold, and that nas nothyng wikke,

But for to prove in alle wyse,

As fyn as ducat in Venyse,

Of which to lite al in my pouche is.

1350 And they were set as thik of nouchis

Ful of the fynest stones faire

That men rede in the Lapidaire,

As grasses growen in a mede.

But hit were al to longe to rede

The names, and therfore I pace.

But in this lusty and ryche place

That Fames halle called was,

Ful moche prees of folk ther nas,

Ne crowdyng for to mochil prees.

1360 But al on hye, above a dees,

Sitte in a see imperiall,

That mad was of a rubee all,

Which that a carbuncle ys ycalled,

Y saugh, perpetually ystalled,

A femynyne creature,

That never formed by Nature

Nas such another thing yseye.

For alther-first, soth for to seye,

Me thoughte that she was so lyte

1370 That the lengthe of a cubite

Was lengere than she semed be.

But thus sone in a whyle she

Hir tho so wonderliche streighte

That with hir fet she erthe reighte,

And with hir hed she touched hevene,

Ther as shynen sterres sevene,

And therto eke, as to my wit,

I saugh a gretter wonder yit,

Upon her eyen to beholde;

1380 But certeyn y hem never tolde,

For as feele eyen hadde she

As fetheres upon foules be,

Or weren on the bestes foure

That Goddis trone gunne honoure,

As John writ in th' Apocalips.

Hir heer, that oundy was and crips,

As burned gold hyt shoon to see;

And soth to tellen, also she

Had also fele upstondyng eres

1390 And tonges, as on bestes heres;

And on hir fet woxen saugh Y

Partriches wynges redely.

But Lord, the perry and the richesse

I saugh sittyng on this godesse!

And Lord, the hevenyssh melodye

Of songes ful of armonye

I herde aboute her trone ysonge,

That al the paleys-walles ronge.

So song the myghty Muse, she

1400 That cleped ys Caliope,

And hir eighte sustren eke,

That in her face semen meke;

And ever mo, eternally,

They songe of Fame, as thoo herd y:

"Heryed be thou and thy name,

Goddesse of Renoun or of Fame!"

Tho was I war, loo, atte laste,

As I myne eyen gan up caste,

That thys ylke noble quene

1410 On her shuldres gan sustene

Bothe th' armes and the name

Of thoo that hadde large fame:

Alexander and Hercules,

That with a sherte hys lyf les.

And thus fond y syttynge this goddesse

In nobley, honour, and rychesse;

Of which I stynte a while now,

Other thing to tellen yow.

Tho saugh I stonde on eyther syde,

1420 Streight doun to the dores wide,

Fro the dees, many a peler

Of metal that shoon not ful cler;

But though they nere of no rychesse,

Yet they were mad for gret noblesse,

And in hem hy and gret sentence;

And folk of digne reverence,

Of which I wil yow telle fonde,

Upon the piler saugh I stonde.

Alderfirst, loo, ther I sigh

1430 Upon a piler stonde on high,

That was of led and yren fyn,

Hym of secte saturnyn,

The Ebrayk Josephus the olde,

That of Jewes gestes tolde;

And he bar on hys shuldres hye

The fame up of the Jewerye.

And by hym stoden other sevene,

Wise and worthy for to nevene,

To helpen him bere up the charge,

1440 Hyt was so hevy and so large.

And for they writen of batayles,

As wel as other olde mervayles,

Therfor was, loo, thys piler

Of which that I yow telle her,

Of led and yren bothe, ywys,

For yren Martes metal ys,

Which that god is of bataylle;

And the led, withouten faille,

Ys, loo, the metal of Saturne,

1450 That hath a ful large whel to turne.

Thoo stoden forth on every rowe

Of hem which that I koude knowe,

Though I hem noght be ordre telle,

To make yow to longe to duelle,

These of whiche I gynne rede.

There saugh I stonden, out of drede,

Upon an yren piler strong

That peynted was al endelong

With tigres blod in every place,

1460 The Tholosan that highte Stace,

That bar of Thebes up the fame

Upon his shuldres, and the name

Also of cruel Achilles.

And by him stood, withouten les,

Ful wonder hy on a piler

Of yren, he, the gret Omer;

And with him Dares and Tytus

Before, and eke he Lollius,

And Guydo eke de Columpnis,

1470 And Englyssh Gaufride eke, ywis;

And ech of these, as have I joye,

Was besy for to bere up Troye.

So hevy therof was the fame

That for to bere hyt was no game.

But yet I gan ful wel espie,

Betwex hem was a litil envye.

Oon seyde that Omer made lyes,

Feynynge in hys poetries,

And was to Grekes favorable;

1480 Therfor held he hyt but fable.

Tho saugh I stonde on a piler,

That was of tynned yren cler,

The Latyn poete Virgile,

That bore hath up a longe while

The fame of Pius Eneas.

And next hym on a piler was,

Of coper, Venus clerk Ovide,

That hath ysowen wonder wide

The grete god of Loves name.

1490 And ther he bar up wel hys fame

Upon this piler, also hye

As I myghte see hyt with myn ye;

For-why this halle, of which I rede,

Was woxen on highte, length, and brede,

Wel more be a thousand del

Than hyt was erst, that saugh I wel.

Thoo saugh I on a piler by,

Of yren wroght ful sternely,

The grete poete daun Lucan,

1500 And on hys shuldres bar up than,

As high as that y myghte see,

The fame of Julius and Pompe.

And by him stoden alle these clerkes

That writen of Romes myghty werkes,

That yf y wolde her names telle,

Al to longe most I dwelle.

And next him on a piler stood

Of soulfre, lyk as he were wood,

Daun Claudian, the sothe to telle,

1510 That bar up al the fame of helle,

Of Pluto, and of Proserpyne,

That quene ys of the derke pyne.

What shulde y more telle of this?

The halle was al ful, ywys,

Of hem that writen olde gestes

As ben on trees rokes nestes;

But hit a ful confus matere

Were alle the gestes for to here

That they of write, or how they highte.

1520 But while that y beheld thys syghte,

I herde a noyse aprochen blyve,

That ferde as been don in an hive

Ayen her tyme of out-fleynge;

Ryght such a maner murmurynge,

For al the world, hyt semed me.

Tho gan I loke aboute and see

That ther come entryng into the halle

A ryght gret companye withalle,

And that of sondry regiouns,

1530 Of alleskynnes condiciouns

That dwelle in erthe under the mone,

Pore and ryche. And also sone

As they were come in to the halle,

They gonne doun on knees falle

Before this ilke noble quene,

And seyde, "Graunte us, lady shene,

Ech of us of thy grace a bone!"

And somme of hem she graunted sone,

And somme she werned wel and faire,

1540 And some she graunted the contraire

Of her axyng outterly.

But thus I seye yow, trewely,

What her cause was, y nyste.

For of this folk ful wel y wiste

They hadde good fame ech deserved,

Although they were dyversly served;

Ryght as her suster, dame Fortune,

Ys wont to serven in comune.

Now herke how she gan to paye

1550 That gonne her of her grace praye;

And yit, lo, al this companye

Seyden sooth, and noght a lye.

"Madame," seyde they, "we be

Folk that here besechen the

That thou graunte us now good fame,

And let our werkes han that name.

In ful recompensacioun

Of good werkes, yive us good renoun."

"I werne yow hit," quod she anon;

1560 "Ye gete of me good fame non,

Be God, and therfore goo your wey."

"Allas," quod they, "and welaway!

Telle us what may your cause be."

"For me lyst hyt noght," quod she;

"No wyght shal speke of yow, ywis,

Good ne harm, ne that ne this."

And with that word she gan to calle

Her messager, that was in halle,

And bad that he shulde faste goon,

1570 Upon peyne to be blynd anon,

For Eolus the god of wynde --

"In Trace, ther ye shal him fynde,

And bid him bringe his clarioun,

That is ful dyvers of his soun,

And hyt is cleped Clere Laude,

With which he wont is to heraude

Hem that me list ypreised be.

And also bid him how that he

Brynge his other clarioun,

1580 That highte Sklaundre in every toun,

With which he wont is to diffame

Hem that me liste, and do hem shame."

This messager gan faste goon,

And found where in a cave of ston,

In a contree that highte Trace,

This Eolus, with harde grace,

Held the wyndes in distresse,

And gan hem under him to presse,

That they gonne as beres rore,

1590 He bond and pressed hem so sore.

This messager gan faste crie,

"Rys up," quod he, "and faste hye,

Til thou at my lady be;

And tak thy clariouns eke with the,

And sped the forth." And he anon

Tok to a man that highte Triton

Hys clarions to bere thoo,

And let a certeyn wynd to goo,

That blew so hydously and hye

1600 That hyt ne lefte not a skye

In alle the welken long and brod.

This Eolus nowhere abod

Til he was come to Fames fet,

And eke the man that Triton het;

And ther he stod, as stille as stoon.

And her-withal ther come anoon

Another huge companye

Of goode folk, and gunne crie,

"Lady, graunte us now good fame,

1610 And lat oure werkes han that name

Now in honour of gentilesse,

And also God your soule blesse!

For we han wel deserved hyt,

Therfore is ryght that we ben quyt."

"As thryve I," quod she, "ye shal faylle!

Good werkes shal yow noght availle

To have of me good fame as now.

But wite ye what? Y graunte yow

That ye shal have a shrewed fame,

1620 And wikkyd loos, and worse name,

Though ye good loos have wel deserved.

Now goo your wey, for ye be served.

And thou, dan Eolus, let see,

Tak forth thy trumpe anon," quod she,

"That is ycleped Sklaundre lyght,

And blow her loos, that every wight

Speke of hem harm and shrewednesse

In stede of good and worthynesse.

For thou shalt trumpe alle the contrayre

1630 Of that they han don wel or fayre."

"Allas," thoughte I, "what aventures

Han these sory creatures!

For they, amonges al the pres,

Shul thus be shamed gilteles.

But what, hyt moste nedes be."

What dide this Eolus, but he

Tok out hys blake trumpe of bras,

That fouler than the devel was,

And gan this trumpe for to blowe,

1640 As al the world shulde overthrowe,

That thrughout every regioun

Wente this foule trumpes soun,

As swifte as pelet out of gonne

Whan fyr is in the poudre ronne.

And such a smoke gan out wende

Out of his foule trumpes ende,

Blak, bloo, grenyssh, swartish red,

As doth where that men melte led,

Loo, al on high fro the tuel.

1650 And therto oo thing saugh I wel,

That the ferther that hit ran,

The gretter wexen hit began,

As dooth the ryver from a welle,

And hyt stank as the pit of helle.

Allas, thus was her shame yronge,

And gilteles, on every tonge!

Tho come the thridde companye,

And gunne up to the dees to hye,

And doun on knes they fille anon,

1660 And seyde, "We ben everychon

Folk that han ful trewely

Deserved fame ryghtfully,

And praye yow, hit mote be knowe

Ryght as hit is, and forth yblowe."

"I graunte," quod she, "for me list

That now your goode werkes be wist,

And yet ye shul han better loos,

Right in dispit of alle your foos,

Than worthy is, and that anoon.

1670 Lat now," quod she, "thy trumpe goon,

Thou Eolus, that is so blak;

And out thyn other trumpe tak

That highte Laude, and blow yt soo

That thrugh the world her fame goo

Al esely, and not to faste,

That hyt be knowen atte laste."

"Ful gladly, lady myn," he seyde;

And out hys trumpe of gold he brayde

Anon, and sette hyt to his mouth,

1680 And blew it est, and west, and south,

And north, as lowde as any thunder,

That every wight hath of hit wonder,

So brode hyt ran or than hit stente.

And, certes, al the breth that wente

Out of his trumpes mouth it smelde

As men a pot of bawme helde

Among a basket ful of roses.

This favour dide he til her loses.

And ryght with this y gan aspye,

1690 Ther come the ferthe companye --

But certeyn they were wonder fewe --

And gunne stonden in a rewe,

And seyden, "Certes, lady bryght,

We han don wel with al our myght,

But we ne kepen have no fame.

Hyde our werkes and our name,

For Goddys love; for certes we

Han certeyn doon hyt for bounte,

And for no maner other thing."

1700 "I graunte yow alle your askyng,"

Quod she; "let your werkes be ded."

With that aboute y clew myn hed,

And saugh anoon the fifte route

That to this lady gunne loute,

And doun on knes anoon to falle;

And to hir thoo besoughten alle

To hide her goode werkes ek,

And seyden they yeven noght a lek

For fame ne for such renoun;

1710 For they for contemplacioun

And Goddes love hadde ywrought,

Ne of fame wolde they nought.

"What?" quod she, "and be ye wood?

And wene ye for to doo good,

And for to have of that no fame?

Have ye dispit to have my name?

Nay, ye shul lyven everychon!

Blow thy trumpes, and that anon,"

Quod she, "thou Eolus, y hote,

1720 And ryng this folkes werk be note,

That al the world may of hyt here."

And he gan blowe her loos so clere

In his golden clarioun

That thrugh the world wente the soun

Also kenely and eke so softe;

But atte last hyt was on-lofte.

Thoo come the sexte companye,

And gunne faste on Fame crie.

Ryght verraily in this manere

1730 They seyden: "Mercy, lady dere!

To tellen certeyn as hyt is,

We han don neither that ne this,

But ydel al oure lyf ybe.

But natheles yet preye we

That we mowe han as good a fame,

And gret renoun and knowen name,

As they that han doon noble gestes,

And acheved alle her lestes,

As wel of love as other thyng.

1740 Al was us never broche ne ryng,

Ne elles noght, from wymmen sent,

Ne ones in her herte yment

To make us oonly frendly chere,

But myghten temen us upon bere;

Yet lat us to the peple seme

Suche as the world may of us deme

That wommen loven us for wod.

Hyt shal doon us as moche good,

And to oure herte as moche avaylle

1750 To countrepese ese and travaylle,

As we had wonne hyt with labour;

For that is dere boght honour

At regard of oure grete ese.

And yet thou most us more plese:

Let us be holden eke therto

Worthy, wise, and goode also,

And riche, and happy unto love.

For Goddes love, that sit above,

Thogh we may not the body have

1760 Of wymmen, yet, so God yow save,

Leet men gliwe on us the name --

Sufficeth that we han the fame."

"I graunte," quod she, "be my trouthe!

Now, Eolus, withouten slouthe,

Tak out thy trumpe of gold, let se,

And blow as they han axed me,

That every man wene hem at ese,

Though they goon in ful badde lese."

This Eolus gan hit so blowe

1770 That thrugh the world hyt was yknowe.

Thoo come the seventh route anoon,

And fel on knees everychoon,

And seyde, "Lady, graunte us sone

The same thing, the same bone,

That [ye] this nexte folk han doon."

"Fy on yow," quod she, "everychon!

Ye masty swyn, ye ydel wrechches,

Ful of roten, slowe techches!

What? False theves! Wher ye wolde

1780 Be famous good, and nothing nolde

Deserve why, ne never ye roughte?

Men rather yow to hangen oughte!

For ye be lyke the sweynte cat

That wolde have fissh; but wostow what?

He wolde nothing wete his clowes.

Yvel thrift come to your jowes,

And eke to myn, if I hit graunte,

Or do yow favour, yow to avaunte!

Thou Eolus, thou kyng of Trace,

1790 Goo blowe this folk a sory grace,"

Quod she, "anon; and wostow how?

As I shal telle thee ryght now.

Sey: `These ben they that wolde honour

Have, and do noskynnes labour,

Ne doo no good, and yet han lawde;

And that men wende that bele Isawde

Ne coude hem noght of love werne,

And yet she that grynt at a querne

Ys al to good to ese her herte.'"

1800 This Eolus anon up sterte,

And with his blake clarioun

He gan to blasen out a soun

As lowde as beloweth wynd in helle;

And eke therwith, soth to telle,

This soun was so ful of japes,

As ever mowes were in apes.

And that wente al the world aboute,

That every wight gan on hem shoute

And for to lawghe as they were wod,

1810 Such game fonde they in her hod.

Tho come another companye,

That had ydoon the trayterye,

The harm, the grettest wikkednesse

That any herte kouth. gesse;

And prayed her to han good fame,

And that she nolde doon hem no shame,

But yeve hem loos and good renoun,

And do hyt blowe in a clarioun.

"Nay, wis," quod she, "hyt were a vice.

1820 Al be ther in me no justice,

Me lyste not to doo hyt now,

Ne this nyl I not graunte yow."

Tho come ther lepynge in a route,

And gunne choppen al aboute

Every man upon the crowne,

That al the halle gan to sowne,

And seyden: "Lady, leef and dere,

We ben suche folk as ye mowe here.

To tellen al the tale aryght,

1830 We ben shrewes, every wyght,

And han delyt in wikkednesse,

As goode folk han in godnesse;

And joye to be knowen shrewes,

And ful of vice and wikked thewes;

Wherefore we praye yow, a-rowe,

That oure fame such be knowe

In alle thing ryght as hit ys."

"Y graunte hyt yow," quod she, "ywis.

But what art thow that seyst this tale,

1840 That werest on thy hose a pale,

And on thy tipet such a belle?"

"Madame," quod he, "soth to telle,

I am that ylke shrewe, ywis,

That brende the temple of Ysidis

In Athenes, loo, that citee."

"And wherfor didest thou so?" quod she.

"By my thrift," quod he, "madame,

I wolde fayn han had a fame,

As other folk hadde in the toun,

1850 Although they were of gret renoun

For her vertu and for her thewes.

Thoughte y, as gret a fame han shrewes,

Though hit be for shrewednesse,

As goode folk han for godnesse;

And sith y may not have that oon,

That other nyl y noght forgoon.

And for to gette of Fames hire,

The temple sette y al afire.

Now do our loos be blowen swithe,

1860 As wisly be thou ever blythe!"

"Gladly," quod she; "thow Eolus,

Herestow not what they prayen us?"

"Madame, yis, ful wel," quod he,

"And I wil trumpen it, parde!"

And tok his blake trumpe faste,

And gan to puffen and to blaste,

Til hyt was at the worldes ende.

With that y gan aboute wende,

For oon that stood ryght at my bak,

1870 Me thoughte, goodly to me spak,

And seyde, "Frend, what is thy name?

Artow come hider to han fame?"

"Nay, for sothe, frend," quod y;

"I cam noght hyder, graunt mercy,

For no such cause, by my hed!

Sufficeth me, as I were ded,

That no wight have my name in honde.

I wot myself best how y stonde;

For what I drye, or what I thynke,

1880 I wil myselven al hyt drynke,

Certeyn, for the more part,

As fer forth as I kan myn art."

"But what doost thou here than?" quod he.

Quod y, "That wyl y tellen the,

The cause why y stonde here:

Somme newe tydynges for to lere,

Somme newe thinges, y not what,

Tydynges, other this or that,

Of love or suche thynges glade.

1890 For certeynly, he that me made

To comen hyder, seyde me,

Y shulde bothe here and se

In this place wonder thynges;

But these be no suche tydynges

As I mene of." "Noo?" quod he.

And I answered, "Noo, parde!

For wel y wiste ever yit,

Sith that first y hadde wit,

That somme folk han desired fame

1900 Diversly, and loos, and name.

But certeynly, y nyste how

Ne where that Fame duelled, er now,

And eke of her descripcioun,

Ne also her condicioun,

Ne the ordre of her dom,

Unto the tyme y hidder com."

"[Whych] than be, loo, these tydynges,

That thou now [thus] hider brynges,

That thou hast herd?" quod he to me;

1910 "But now no fors, for wel y se

What thou desirest for to here.

Com forth and stond no lenger here,

And y wil thee, withouten drede,

In such another place lede

Ther thou shalt here many oon."

Tho gan I forth with hym to goon

Out of the castel, soth to seye.

Tho saugh y stonde in a valeye,

Under the castel, faste by,

1920 An hous, that Domus Dedaly,

That Laboryntus cleped ys,

Nas mad so wonderlych, ywis,

Ne half so queyntelych ywrought.

And ever mo, as swyft as thought,

This queynte hous aboute wente,

That never mo hyt stille stente.

And therout com so gret a noyse

That, had hyt stonden upon Oyse,

Men myghte hyt han herd esely

1930 To Rome, y trowe sikerly.

And the noyse which that I herde,

For al the world ryght so hyt ferde

As dooth the rowtynge of the ston

That from th' engyn ys leten gon.

And al thys hous of which y rede

Was mad of twigges, falwe, rede,

And grene eke, and somme weren white,

Swiche as men to these cages thwite,

Or maken of these panyers,

1940 Or elles [hottes] or dossers;

That, for the swough and for the twygges,

This hous was also ful of gygges,

And also ful eke of chirkynges,

And of many other werkynges;

And eke this hous hath of entrees

As fele as of leves ben in trees

In somer, whan they grene been;

And on the roof men may yet seen

A thousand holes, and wel moo,

1950 To leten wel the soun out goo.

And be day, in every tyde,

Been al the dores opened wide,

And be nyght echon unshette;

Ne porter ther is noon to lette

No maner tydynges in to pace.

Ne never rest is in that place

That hit nys fild ful of tydynges,

Other loude or of whisprynges;

And over alle the houses angles

1960 Ys ful of rounynges and of jangles

Of werres, of pes, of mariages,

Of reste, of labour, of viages,

Of abood, of deeth, of lyf,

Of love, of hate, acord, of stryf,

Of loos, of lore, and of wynnynges,

Of hele, of seknesse, of bildynges,

Of faire wyndes, and of tempestes,

Of qwalm of folk, and eke of bestes;

Of dyvers transmutacions

1970 Of estats, and eke of regions;

Of trust, of drede, of jelousye,

Of wit, of wynnynge, of folye;

Of plente, and of gret famyne,

Of chepe, of derthe, and of ruyne;

Of good or mys governement,

Of fyr, and of dyvers accident.

And loo, thys hous, of which I write,

Syker be ye, hit nas not lyte,

For hyt was sixty myle of lengthe.

1980 Al was the tymber of no strengthe,

Yet hit is founded to endure

While that hit lyst to Aventure,

That is the moder of tydynges,

As the see of welles and of sprynges;

And hyt was shapen lyk a cage.

"Certys," quod y, "in al myn age,

Ne saugh y such an hous as this."

And as y wondred me, ywys,

Upon this hous, tho war was y

1990 How that myn egle faste by

Was perched hye upon a stoon;

And I gan streghte to hym gon,

And seyde thus: "Y preye the

That thou a while abide me,

For Goddis love, and lete me seen

What wondres in this place been;

For yit, paraunter, y may lere

Som good theron, or sumwhat here

That leef me were, or that y wente."

2000 "Petre, that is myn entente,"

Quod he to me; "therfore y duelle.

But certeyn, oon thyng I the telle,

That but I bringe the therinne,

Ne shalt thou never kunne gynne

To come into hyt, out of doute,

So faste hit whirleth, lo, aboute.

But sith that Joves, of his grace,

As I have seyd, wol the solace

Fynally with these thinges,

2010 Unkouthe syghtes and tydynges,

To passe with thyn hevynesse,

Such routhe hath he of thy distresse,

That thou suffrest debonairly --

And wost thyselven outtirly

Disesperat of alle blys,

Syth that Fortune hath mad amys

The [fruit] of al thyn hertys reste

Languisshe and eke in poynt to breste --

That he, thrugh hys myghty merite,

2020 Wol do the an ese, al be hyt lyte,

And yaf in expres commaundement,

To which I am obedient,

To further the with al my myght,

And wisse and teche the aryght

Where thou maist most tidynges here.

Shaltow here anoon many oon lere."

With this word he ryght anoon

Hente me up bytweene hys toon,

And at a wyndowe yn me broghte,

2030 That in this hous was, as me thoghte --

And therwithalle, me thoughte hit stente,

And nothing hyt aboute wente --

And me sette in the flor adoun.

But which a congregacioun

Of folk, as I saugh rome aboute,

Some wythin and some wythoute,

Nas never seen, ne shal ben eft;

That, certys, in the world nys left

So many formed be Nature,

2040 Ne ded so many a creature;

That wel unnethe in that place

Hadde y a fote-brede of space.

And every wight that I saugh there

Rouned everych in others ere

A newe tydynge prively,

Or elles tolde al openly

Ryght thus, and seyde: "Nost not thou

That ys betyd, lo, late or now?"

"No," quod he, "telle me what."

2050 And than he tolde hym this and that,

And swor therto that hit was soth --

"Thus hath he sayd," and "Thus he doth,"

"Thus shal hit be," "Thus herde y seye,"

"That shal be founde," "That dar I leye" --

That al the folk that ys alyve

Ne han the kunnynge to discryve

The thinges that I herde there,

What aloude, and what in ere.

But al the wondermost was this:

2060 Whan oon had herd a thing, ywis,

He com forth ryght to another wight,

And gan him tellen anon-ryght

The same that to him was told,

Or hyt a forlong way was old,

But gan somwhat for to eche

To this tydynge in this speche

More than hit ever was.

And nat so sone departed nas

Tho fro him, that he ne mette

2070 With the thridde; and or he lette

Any stounde, he told him als;

Were the tydynge soth or fals,

Yit wolde he telle hyt natheles,

And evermo with more encres

Than yt was erst. Thus north and south

Wente every tydyng fro mouth to mouth,

And that encresing ever moo,

As fyr ys wont to quyke and goo

From a sparke spronge amys,

2080 Til al a citee brent up ys.

And whan that was ful yspronge,

And woxen more on every tonge

Than ever hit was, [hit] wente anoon

Up to a wyndowe out to goon;

Or, but hit myghte out there pace,

Hyt gan out crepe at som crevace,

And flygh forth faste for the nones.

And somtyme saugh I thoo at ones

A lesyng and a sad soth sawe,

2090 That gonne of aventure drawe

Out at a wyndowe for to pace;

And, when they metten in that place,

They were achekked bothe two,

And neyther of hem moste out goo

For other, so they gonne crowde,

Til ech of hem gan crien lowde,

"Lat me go first!" "Nay, but let me!

And here I wol ensuren the,

Wyth the nones that thou wolt do so,

2100 That I shal never fro the go,

But be thyn owne sworen brother!

We wil medle us ech with other,

That no man, be they never so wrothe,

Shal han on [of us] two, but bothe

At ones, al besyde his leve,

Come we a-morwe or on eve,

Be we cried or stille yrouned."

Thus saugh I fals and soth compouned

Togeder fle for oo tydynge.

2110 Thus out at holes gunne wringe

Every tydynge streght to Fame,

And she gan yeven ech hys name,

After hir disposicioun,

And yaf hem eke duracioun,

Somme to wexe and wane sone,

As doth the faire white mone,

And let hem goon. Ther myghte y seen

Wynged wondres faste fleen,

Twenty thousand in a route,

2120 As Eolus hem blew aboute.

And, Lord, this hous in alle tymes

Was ful of shipmen and pilgrimes,

With scrippes bret-ful of lesinges,

Entremedled with tydynges,

And eek allone be hemselve.

O, many a thousand tymes twelve

Saugh I eke of these pardoners,

Currours, and eke messagers,

With boystes crammed ful of lyes

2130 As ever vessel was with lyes.

And as I alther-fastest wente

About, and dide al myn entente

Me for to pleyen and for to lere,

And eke a tydynge for to here,

That I had herd of som contre

That shal not now be told for me --

For hit no nede is, redely;

Folk kan synge hit bet than I;

For al mot out, other late or rathe,

2140 Alle the sheves in the lathe --

I herde a gret noyse withalle

In a corner of the halle,

Ther men of love-tydynges tolde,

And I gan thiderward beholde;

For I saugh rennynge every wight

As faste as that they hadden myght,

And everych cried, "What thing is that?"

And somme sayde, "I not never what."

And whan they were alle on an hepe,

2150 Tho behynde begunne up lepe,

And clamben up on other faste,

And up the nose and yen kaste,

And troden fast on others heles,

And stampen, as men doon aftir eles.

Atte laste y saugh a man,

Which that y [nevene] nat ne kan;

But he semed for to be

A man of gret auctorite. . . .

ANELIDA AND ARCITE

Thou ferse god of armes, Mars the rede,

That in the frosty contre called Trace,

Within thy grisly temple ful of drede

Honoured art as patroun of that place;

With thy Bellona, Pallas, ful of grace,

Be present and my song contynue and guye;

At my begynnyng thus to the I crye.

For hit ful depe is sonken in my mynde,

With pitous hert in Englyssh to endyte

10 This olde storie, in Latyn which I fynde,

Of quene Anelida and fals Arcite,

That elde, which that al can frete and bite,

As hit hath freten mony a noble storie,

Hath nygh devoured out of oure memorie.

Be favorable eke, thou Polymya,

On Parnaso that with thy sustres glade,

By Elycon, not fer from Cirrea,

Singest with vois memorial in the shade,

Under the laurer which that may not fade,

20 And do that I my ship to haven wynne.

First folowe I Stace, and after him Corynne.

When Theseus with werres longe and grete

The aspre folk of Cithe had overcome,

With laurer corouned, in his char gold-bete,

Hom to his contre-houses is he come,

For which the peple, blisful al and somme,

So cryeden that to the sterres hit wente,

And him to honouren dide al her entente.

Beforn this duk, in signe of victorie,

30 The trompes come, and in his baner large

The ymage of Mars, and in tokenyng of glorie

Men myghte sen of tresour many a charge,

Many a bright helm, and many a spere and targe,

Many a fresh knyght, and many a blysful route,

On hors, on fote, in al the feld aboute.

Ipolita his wif, the hardy quene

Of Cithia, that he conquered hadde,

With Emelye her yonge suster shene,

Faire in a char of gold he with him ladde,

40 That al the ground about her char she spradde

With brightnesse of the beaute in her face,

Fulfilled of largesse and of alle grace.

With his tryumphe and laurer-corouned thus,

In al the flour of Fortunes yevynge,

Let I this noble prince Theseus

Toward Athenes in his wey rydinge,

And founde I wol in shortly for to bringe

The slye wey of that I gan to write,

Of quene Anelida and fals Arcite.

50 Mars, which that through his furious cours of ire,

The olde wrathe of Juno to fulfille,

Hath set the peples hertes bothe on fire

Of Thebes and Grece, everich other to kille

With blody speres, ne rested never stille,

But throng now her, now ther, among hem bothe,

That everych other slough, so were they wrothe.

For when Amphiorax and Tydeus,

Ipomedon, Parthonope also

Were ded, and slayn proude Campaneus,

60 And when the wrecched Thebans, bretheren two,

Were slayn, and kyng Adrastus hom ago,

So desolat stod Thebes and so bare

That no wight coude remedie of his fare.

And when the olde Creon gan espye

How that the blood roial was broght a-doun,

He held the cite by his tyrannye

And dyde the gentils of that regioun

To ben his frendes and wonnen in the toun.

So, what for love of him and what for awe,

70 The noble folk were to the toun idrawe.

Among al these Anelida, the quene

Of Ermony, was in that toun dwellynge,

That fairer was then is the sonne shene.

Thurghout the world so gan her name springe

That her to seen had every wyght likynge,

For, as of trouthe, is ther noon her lyche

Of al the women in this worlde riche.

Yong was this quene, of twenty yer of elde,

Of mydel stature, and of such fairenesse

80 That Nature had a joye her to behelde;

And for to speken of her stidfastnesse,

She passed hath Penelope and Lucresse;

And shortly, yf she shal be comprehended,

In her ne myghte no thing been amended.

This Theban knyght Arcite eke, soth to seyn,

Was yong and therwithal a lusty knyght,

But he was double in love and no thing pleyn,

And subtil in that craft over any wyght,

And with his kunnyng wan this lady bryght;

90 For so ferforth he gan her trouthe assure

That she him trusted over any creature.

What shuld I seyn? She loved Arcite so

That when that he was absent any throwe,

Anon her thoghte her herte brast a-two;

For in her sight to her he bar hym lowe,

So that she wende have al his hert yknowe;

But he was fals; hit nas but feyned chere --

As nedeth not to men such craft to lere.

But nevertheles ful mykel besynesse

100 Had he er that he myghte his lady wynne,

And swor he wolde dyen for distresse

Or from his wit he seyde he wolde twynne.

Alas, the while! For hit was routhe and synne

That she upon his sorowes wolde rewe;

But nothing thinketh the fals as doth the trewe.

Her fredom fond Arcite in such manere

That al was his that she hath, moche or lyte;

Ne to no creature made she chere

Ferther then that hit lyked to Arcite.

110 Ther nas no lak with which he myghte her wite;

She was so ferforth yeven hym to plese

That al that lyked hym hit dyde her ese.

Ther nas to her no maner lettre sent

That touched love, from any maner wyght,

That she ne shewed hit him er hit was brent;

So pleyn she was and dide her fulle myght

That she nyl hiden nothing from her knyght,

Lest he of any untrouthe her upbreyde.

Withoute bode his heste she obeyde.

120 And eke he made him jelous over here,

That what that any man had to her seyd

Anoon he wolde preyen her to swere

What was that word or make him evel apaid.

Then wende she out of her wyt have breyd;

But al this nas but sleght and flaterie;

Withoute love he feyned jelousye.

And al this tok she so debonerly

That al his wil her thoghte hit skilful thing,

And ever the lenger she loved him tendirly

130 And dide him honour as he were a kyng.

Her herte was to him wedded with a ring;

So ferforth upon trouthe is her entente

That wher he gooth her herte with him wente.

When she shal ete, on him is so her thoght

That wel unnethe of mete tok she kep;

And when that she was to her reste broght,

On him she thoghte alwey til that she slep;

When he was absent, prevely she wep:

Thus lyveth feire Anelida the quene

140 For fals Arcite, that dide her al this tene.

This fals Arcite, of his newfanglenesse,

For she to him so lowly was and trewe,

Tok lesse deynte of her stidfastnesse

And saw another lady, proud and newe,

And ryght anon he cladde him in her hewe --

Wot I not whethir in white, rede, or grene --

And falsed fair Anelida the quene.

But neverthelesse, gret wonder was hit noon

Thogh he were fals, for hit is kynde of man

150 Sith Lamek was, that is so longe agoon,

To ben in love as fals as evere he can;

He was the firste fader that began

To loven two, and was in bigamye,

And he found tentes first, but yf men lye.

This fals Arcite, sumwhat moste he feyne,

When he wex fals, to covere his traitorie,

Ryght as an hors that can both bite and pleyne,

For he bar her on honde of trecherie,

And swor he coude her doublenesse espie,

160 And al was falsnes that she to him mente.

Thus swor this thef, and forth his way he wente.

Alas, what herte myght enduren hit,

For routhe and wo, her sorwe for to telle?

Or what man hath the cunnyng or the wit?

Or what man mighte within the chambre dwelle,

Yf I to him rehersen sholde the helle

That suffreth fair Anelida the quene

For fals Arcite, that dide her al this tene.

She wepith, waileth, swowneth pitously;

170 To grounde ded she falleth as a ston;

Craumpyssheth her lymes crokedly;

She speketh as her wit were al agon;

Other colour then asshen hath she noon;

Non other word speketh she, moche or lyte,

But `Merci, cruel herte myn, Arcite!'

And thus endureth til that she was so mat

That she ne hath foot on which she may sustene,

But forth languisshing evere in this estat,

Of which Arcite hath nouther routhe ne tene.

180 His herte was elleswhere, newe and grene,

That on her wo ne deyneth him not to thinke;

Him rekketh never wher she flete or synke.

His newe lady holdeth him so narowe

Up by the bridil, at the staves ende,

That every word he dredeth as an arowe;

Her daunger made him bothe bowe and bende,

And as her liste, made him turne or wende,

For she ne graunted him in her lyvynge

No grace whi that he hath lust to singe,

190 But drof hym forth. Unnethe liste her knowe

That he was servaunt unto her ladishippe;

But lest that he were proud, she held him lowe.

Thus serveth he withoute fee or shipe;

She sent him now to londe, now to shippe;

And for she yaf him daunger al his fille,

Therfor she hadde him at her owne wille.

Ensample of this, ye thrifty wymmen alle,

Take her of Anelida and Arcite,

That for her liste him `dere herte' calle

200 And was so meke, therfor he loved her lyte.

The kynde of mannes herte is to delyte

In thing that straunge is, also God me save!

For what he may not gete, that wolde he have.

Now turne we to Anelida ageyn,

That pyneth day be day in langwisshinge,

But when she saw that her ne gat no geyn,

Upon a day, ful sorowfully wepinge,

She caste her for to make a compleynynge,

And of her owne hond she gan hit write,

210 And sente hit to her Theban knyght, Arcite.

So thirleth with the poynt of remembraunce

The swerd of sorowe, ywhet with fals plesaunce,

Myn herte, bare of blis and blak of hewe,

That turned is in quakyng al my daunce,

My surete in awhaped countenaunce,

Sith hit availeth not for to ben trewe;

For whoso trewest is, hit shal hir rewe

That serveth love and doth her observaunce

Alwey til oon, and chaungeth for no newe.

220 I wot myself as wel as any wight,

For I loved oon with al myn herte and myght,

More then myself an hundred thousand sithe,

And called him myn hertes lif, my knyght,

And was al his, as fer as hit was ryght;

And when that he was glad, then was I blithe,

And his disese was my deth as swithe;

And he ayein his trouthe hath me plyght

For evermore, his lady me to kythe.

Now is he fals, alas, and causeles,

230 And of my wo he is so routheles

That with a word him list not ones deyne

To bringe ayen my sorowful herte in pes,

For he is caught up in another les.

Ryght as him list, he laugheth at my peyne,

And I ne can myn herte not restreyne

For to love him alwey neveretheles;

And of al this I not to whom me pleyne.

And shal I pleyne -- alas, the harde stounde! --

Unto my foo that yaf myn herte a wounde

240 And yet desireth that myn harm be more?

Nay, certis, ferther wol I never founde

Non other helpe, my sores for to sounde.

My destinee hath shapen hit so ful yore;

I wil non other medecyne ne lore;

I wil ben ay ther I was ones bounde.

That I have seid, be seid for evermore!

Alas! Wher is become your gentilesse,

Youre wordes ful of plesaunce and humblesse,

Youre observaunces in so low manere,

250 And your awayting and your besynesse

Upon me, that ye calden your maistresse,

Your sovereyne lady in this world here?

Alas! Is ther now nother word ne chere

Ye vouchen sauf upon myn hevynesse?

Alas! Youre love, I bye hit al to dere.

Now, certis, swete, thogh that ye

Thus causeles the cause be

Of my dedly adversyte,

Your manly resoun oghte hit to respite

260 To slen your frend, and namely me,

That never yet in no degre

Offended yow, as wisly He

That al wot, out of wo my soule quyte!

But for I shewed yow, Arcite,

Al that men wolde to me write,

And was so besy yow to delyte --

Myn honor save -- meke, kynde, and fre,

Therfor ye put on me this wite,

And of me rekke not a myte,

270 Thogh that the swerd of sorwe byte

My woful herte through your cruelte.

My swete foo, why do ye so, for shame?

And thenke ye that furthered be your name

To love a newe, and ben untrewe? Nay!

And putte yow in sclaunder now and blame,

And do to me adversite and grame,

That love yow most -- God, wel thou wost -- alway?

Yet come ayein, and yet be pleyn som day,

And than shal this, that now is mys, be game,

280 And al foryive, while that I lyve may.

Lo, herte myn, al this is for to seyne

As whether shal I preye or elles pleyne?

Which is the wey to doon yow to be trewe?

For either mot I have yow in my cheyne

Or with the deth ye mote departe us tweyne;

Ther ben non other mene weyes newe.

For God so wisly upon my soule rewe,

As verrayly ye sleen me with the peyne;

That may ye se unfeyned of myn hewe.

290 For thus ferforth have I my deth y-soght?

Myself I mordre with my privy thoght;

For sorowe and routhe of your unkyndenesse

I wepe, I wake, I faste; al helpeth noght;

I weyve joye that is to speke of oght,

I voyde companye, I fle gladnesse.

Who may avaunte her beter of hevynesse

Then I? And to this plyte have ye me broght,

Withoute gilt -- me nedeth no witnesse.

And shal I preye, and weyve womanhede? --

300 Nay! Rather deth then do so foul a dede! --

And axe merci, gilteles -- what nede?

And yf I pleyne what lyf that I lede,

Yow rekketh not; that knowe I, out of drede;

And if that I to yow myne othes bede

For myn excuse, a skorn shal be my mede.

Your chere floureth, but it wol not sede;

Ful longe agoon I oghte have taken hede.

For thogh I hadde yow to-morowe ageyn,

I myghte as wel holde Aperill fro reyn

310 As holde yow, to make yow be stidfast.

Almyghty God, of trouthe sovereyn,

Wher is the trouthe of man? Who hath hit slayn?

Who that hem loveth, she shal hem fynde as fast

As in a tempest is a roten mast.

Is that a tame best that is ay feyn

To fleen away when he is lest agast?

Now merci, swete, yf I mysseye!

Have I seyd oght amys, I preye?

I noot; my wit is al aweye.

320 I fare as doth the song of Chaunte-pleure;

For now I pleyne, and now I pleye;

I am so mased that I deye;

Arcite hath born awey the keye

Of al my world, and my good aventure.

For in this world nis creature

Wakynge in more discomfiture

Then I, ne more sorowe endure.

And yf I slepe a furlong wey or tweye,

Then thynketh me that your figure

330 Before me stont, clad in asure,

To profren eft and newe assure

For to be trewe, and merci me to preye.

The longe nyght this wonder sight I drye,

And on the day for thilke afray I dye,

And of al this ryght noght, iwis, ye reche.

Ne nevere mo myn yen two be drie,

And to your routhe, and to your trouthe, I crie.

But welawey! To fer be they to feche;

Thus holdeth me my destinee a wreche.

340 But me to rede out of this drede, or guye,

Ne may my wit, so weyk is hit, not streche.

Then ende I thus, sith I may do no more.

I yeve hit up for now and evermore,

For I shal never eft putten in balaunce

My sekernes, ne lerne of love the lore.

But as the swan, I have herd seyd ful yore,

Ayeins his deth shal singen his penaunce,

So singe I here my destinee or chaunce,

How that Arcite Anelida so sore

350 Hath thirled with the poynt of remembraunce.

When that Anelida, this woful quene,

Hath of her hand ywriten in this wise,

With face ded, betwixe pale and grene,

She fel a-swowe; and sith she gan to rise,

And unto Mars avoweth sacrifise

Withinne the temple, with a sorowful chere,

That shapen was as ye shal after here....??

THE PARLIAMENT OF FOWLS

The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne,

Th' assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge,

The dredful joye alwey that slit so yerne:

Al this mene I by Love, that my felynge

Astonyeth with his wonderful werkynge

So sore, iwis, that whan I on hym thynke

Nat wot I wel wher that I flete or synke.

For al be that I knowe nat Love in dede,

Ne wot how that he quiteth folk here hyre,

10 Yit happeth me ful ofte in bokes reede

Of his myrakles and his crewel yre.

There rede I wel he wol be lord and syre;

I dar nat seyn, his strokes been so sore,

But "God save swich a lord!" -- I can na moore.

Of usage -- what for lust and what for lore --

On bokes rede I ofte, as I yow tolde.

But wherfore that I speke al this? Nat yoore

Agon it happede me for to beholde

Upon a bok, was write with lettres olde,

20 And therupon, a certeyn thing to lerne,

The longe day ful faste I redde and yerne.

For out of olde feldes, as men seyth,

Cometh al this newe corn from yer to yere,

And out of olde bokes, in good feyth,

Cometh al this newe science that men lere.

But now to purpos as of this matere:

To rede forth hit gan me so delite

That al that day me thoughte but a lyte.

This bok of which I make mencioun

30 Entitled was al ther, as I shal telle:

"Tullyus of the Drem of Scipioun."

Chapitres sevene it hadde, of hevene and helle

And erthe, and soules that therinne dwelle,

Of whiche, as shortly as I can it trete,

Of his sentence I wol yow seyn the greete.

Fyrst telleth it, whan Scipion was come

In Affrike, how he meteth Massynisse,

That hym for joie in armes hath inome;

Thanne telleth [it] here speche and al the blysse

40 That was betwix hem til the day gan mysse,

And how his auncestre, Affrycan so deere,

Gan in his slep that nyght to hym apere.

Thanne telleth it that, from a sterry place,

How Affrycan hath hym Cartage shewed,

And warnede hym beforn of al his grace,

And seyde hym what man, lered other lewed,

That lovede commune profyt, wel ithewed,

He shulde into a blysful place wende

There as joye is that last withouten ende.

50 Thanne axede he if folk that here been dede

Han lyf and dwellynge in another place.

And Affrican seyde, "Ye, withouten drede,"

And that oure present worldes lyves space

Nis but a maner deth, what wey we trace;

And rightful folk shul gon, after they dye,

To hevene; and shewede hym the Galaxye.

Thanne shewede he hym the lytel erthe that here is,

At regard of the hevenes quantite;

And after shewede he hym the nyne speres;

60 And after that the melodye herde he

That cometh of thilke speres thryes thre,

That welle is of musik and melodye

In this world here, and cause of armonye.

Than bad he hym, syn erthe was so lyte,

And dissevable and ful of harde grace,

That he ne shulde hym in the world delyte.

Thanne tolde he hym, in certeyn yeres space

That every sterre shulde come into his place

Ther it was first, and al shulde out of mynde

70 That in this world is don of al mankynde.

Thanne preyede hym Scipion to telle hym al

The wey to come into that hevene blisse.

And he seyde, "Know thyself first immortal,

And loke ay besyly thow werche and wysse

To commune profit, and thow shalt not mysse

To comen swiftly to that place deere

That ful of blysse is and of soules cleere.

"But brekers of the lawe, soth to seyne,

And likerous folk, after that they ben dede,

80 Shul whirle aboute th' erthe alwey in peyne,

Tyl many a world be passed, out of drede,

And than, foryeven al hir wikked dede,

Than shul they come into that blysful place,

To which to comen God the sende his grace."

The day gan faylen, and the derke nyght,

That reveth bestes from here besynesse,

Berafte me my bok for lak of lyght,

And to my bed I gan me for to dresse,

Fulfyld of thought and busy hevynesse;

90 For bothe I hadde thyng which that I nolde,

And ek I ne hadde that thyng that I wolde.

But fynally my spirit at the laste,

For wery of my labour al the day,

Tok reste, that made me to slepe faste;

And in my slep I mette, as that I lay,

How Affrican, ryght in the selve aray

That Scipion hym say byfore that tyde,

Was come and stod right at my beddes syde.

The wery huntere, slepynge in his bed,

100 To wode ayeyn his mynde goth anon;

The juge dremeth how his plees been sped;

The cartere dremeth how his cart is gon;

The riche, of gold; the knyght fyght with his fon;

The syke met he drynketh of the tonne;

The lovere met he hath his lady wonne.

Can I not seyn if that the cause were

For I hadde red of Affrican byforn

That made me to mete that he stod there;

But thus seyde he: "Thow hast the so wel born

110 In lokynge of myn olde bok totorn,

Of which Macrobye roughte nat a lyte,

That sumdel of thy labour wolde I quyte."

Cytherea, thow blysful lady swete,

That with thy fyrbrond dauntest whom the lest

And madest me this sweven for to mete,

Be thow myn helpe in this, for thow mayst best!

As wisly as I sey the north-north-west,

Whan I began my sweven for to write,

So yif me myght to ryme, and endyte!

120 This forseyde Affrican me hente anon

And forth with hym unto a gate broughte,

Ryght of a park walled with grene ston;

And over the gate, with lettres large iwroughte,

There were vers iwriten, as me thoughte,

On eyther half, of ful gret difference,

Of which I shal yow seyn the pleyn sentence:

"Thorgh me men gon into that blysful place

Of hertes hele and dedly woundes cure;

Thorgh me men gon unto the welle of grace,

130 There grene and lusty May shal evere endure.

This is the wey to al good aventure.

Be glad, thow redere, and thy sorwe of-caste;

Al open am I -- passe in, and sped thee faste!"

"Thorgh me men gon," than spak that other side,

"Unto the mortal strokes of the spere

Of which Disdayn and Daunger is the gyde,

Ther nevere tre shal fruyt ne leves bere.

This strem yow ledeth to the sorweful were

There as the fish in prysoun is al drye;

140 Th' eschewing is only the remedye!"

These vers of gold and blak iwriten were,

Of whiche I gan astoned to beholde.

For with that oon encresede ay my fere

And with that other gan myn herte bolde;

That oon me hette, that other dide me colde;

No wit hadde I, for errour, for to chese

To entre or flen, or me to save or lese.

Right as betwixen adamauntes two

Of evene myght, a pece of yren set

150 Ne hath no myght to meve to ne fro --

For what that oon may hale, that other let --

Ferde I, that nyste whether me was bet

To entre or leve, til Affrycan, my gide,

Me hente and shof in at the gates wide,

And seyde, "It stondeth writen in thy face,

Thyn errour, though thow telle it not to me;

But dred the not to come into this place,

For this writyng nys nothyng ment bi the,

Ne by non but he Loves servaunt be:

160 For thow of love hast lost thy tast, I gesse,

As sek man hath of swete and bytternesse.

"But natheles, although that thow be dul,

Yit that thow canst not do, yit mayst thow se.

For many a man that may nat stonde a pul

Yet liketh hym at wrastlyng for to be,

And demen yit wher he do bet or he.

And if thow haddest connyng for t' endite,

I shal the shewe mater of to wryte."

With that myn hand in his he tok anon,

170 Of which I confort caughte, and wente in faste.

But, Lord, so I was glad and wel begoon!

For overal where that I myne eyen caste

Were trees clad with leves that ay shal laste,

Ech in his kynde, of colour fresh and greene

As emeraude, that joye was to seene.

The byldere ok, and ek the hardy asshe;

The piler elm, the cofre unto carayne;

The boxtre pipere, holm to whippes lashe;

The saylynge fyr; the cipresse, deth to playne;

180 The shetere ew; the asp for shaftes pleyne;

The olyve of pes, and eke the dronke vyne;

The victor palm, the laurer to devyne.

A gardyn saw I ful of blosmy bowes

Upon a ryver, in a grene mede,

There as swetnesse everemore inow is,

With floures white, blewe, yelwe, and rede,

And colde welle-stremes, nothyng dede,

That swymmen ful of smale fishes lighte,

With fynnes rede and skales sylver bryghte.

190 On every bow the bryddes herde I synge,

With voys of aungel in here armonye;

Some besyede hem here bryddes forth to brynge;

The litel conyes to here pley gonne hye;

And ferther al aboute I gan aspye

The dredful ro, the buk, the hert and hynde,

Squyrels, and bestes smale of gentil kynde.

Of instruments of strenges in acord

Herde I so pleye a ravyshyng swetnesse,

That God, that makere is of al and lord,

200 Ne herde nevere beter, as I gesse.

Therwith a wynd, unnethe it myghte be lesse,

Made in the leves grene a noyse softe

Acordaunt to the foules song alofte.

Th' air of that place so attempre was

That nevere was grevaunce of hot ne cold.

There wex ek every holsom spice and gras;

No man may there waxe sek ne old;

Yit was there joye more a thousandfold

Than man can telle; ne nevere wolde it nyghte,

210 But ay cler day to any mannes syghte.

Under a tre, besyde a welle, I say

Cupide, oure lord, his arwes forge and file;

And at his fet his bowe al redy lay;

And Wille, his doughter, temprede al this while

The hevedes in the welle, and with hire wile

She couchede hem, after they shulde serve

Some for to sle, and some to wounde and kerve.

Tho was I war of Plesaunce anon-ryght,

And of Aray, and Lust, and Curteysie,

220 And of the Craft that can and hath the myght

To don by force a wyght to don folye --

Disfigurat was she, I nyl nat lye;

And by hymself, under an ok, I gesse,

Saw I Delyt, that stod with Gentilesse.

I saw Beute withouten any atyr,

And Youthe, ful of game and jolyte;

Foolhardynesse, Flaterye, and Desyr,

Messagerye, and Meede, and other thre --

Here names shul not here be told for me --

230 And upon pilers greete of jasper longe

I saw a temple of bras ifounded stronge.

Aboute the temple daunsedyn alwey

Women inowe, of whiche some ther weere

Fayre of hemself, and some of hem were gay;

In kertels, al dishevele, wente they there:

That was here offyce alwey, yer by yeere.

And on the temple, of dowves white and fayre

Saw I syttynge many an hundred peyre.

Byfore the temple-dore ful soberly

240 Dame Pees sat, with a curtyn in hire hond,

And by hire syde, wonder discretly,

Dame Pacience syttynge there I fond,

With face pale, upon an hil of sond;

And aldernext, withinne and ek withoute,

Byheste and Art, and of here folk a route.

Withinne the temple, of sykes hoote as fyr

I herde a swogh that gan aboute renne,

Whiche sikes were engendered with desyr,

That maden every auter for to brenne

250 Of newe flaume; and wel espyed I thenne

That al the cause of sorwes that they drye

Cam of the bittere goddesse Jelosye.

The god Priapus saw I, as I wente,

Withinne the temple in sovereyn place stonde,

In swich aray as whan the asse hym shente

With cri by nighte, and with hys sceptre in honde.

Ful besyly men gonne assaye and fonde

Upon his hed to sette, of sondry hewe,

Garlondes ful of freshe floures newe.

260 And in a prive corner in disport

Fond I Venus and hire porter Richesse,

That was ful noble and hautayn of hyre port --

Derk was that place, but afterward lightnesse

I saw a lyte, unnethe it myghte be lesse --

And on a bed of gold she lay to reste,

Til that the hote sonne gan to weste.

Hyre gilte heres with a golden thred

Ibounden were, untressed as she lay,

And naked from the brest unto the hed

270 Men myghte hire sen; and, sothly for to say,

The remenaunt was wel kevered to my pay,

Ryght with a subtyl coverchef of Valence --

Ther was no thikkere cloth of no defense.

The place yaf a thousand savours sote,

And Bachus, god of wyn, sat hire besyde,

And Ceres next, that doth of hunger boote,

And, as I seyde, amyddes lay Cypride,

To whom on knees two yonge folk ther cryde

To ben here helpe. But thus I let hire lye,

280 And ferther in the temple I gan espie

That, in dispit of Dyane the chaste,

Ful many a bowe ibroke heng on the wal

Of maydenes swiche as gonne here tymes waste

In hyre servyse; and peynted overal

Ful many a story, of which I touche shal

A fewe, as of Calyxte and Athalante,

And many a mayde of which the name I wante.

Semyramis, Candace, and Hercules,

Biblis, Dido, Thisbe, and Piramus,

290 Tristram, Isaude, Paris, and Achilles,

Eleyne, Cleopatre, and Troylus,

Silla, and ek the moder of Romulus:

Alle these were peynted on that other syde,

And al here love, and in what plyt they dyde.

Whan I was come ayeyn into the place

That I of spak, that was so sote and grene,

Forth welk I tho myselven to solace.

Tho was I war wher that ther sat a queene

That, as of lyght the somer sonne shene

300 Passeth the sterre, right so over mesure

She fayrer was than any creature.

And in a launde, upon an hil of floures,

Was set this noble goddesse Nature.

Of braunches were here halles and here boures

Iwrought after here cast and here mesure;

Ne there nas foul that cometh of engendrure

That they ne were prest in here presence

To take hire dom and yeve hire audyence.

For this was on Seynt Valentynes day,

310 Whan every foul cometh there to chese his make,

Of every kynde that men thynke may,

And that so huge a noyse gan they make

That erthe, and eyr, and tre, and every lake

So ful was that unethe was there space

For me to stonde, so ful was al the place.

And right as Aleyn, in the Pleynt of Kynde,

Devyseth Nature of aray and face,

In swich aray men myghte hire there fynde.

This noble emperesse, ful of grace,

320 Bad every foul to take his owne place,

As they were woned alwey fro yer to yeere,

Seynt Valentynes day, to stonden theere.

That is to seyn, the foules of ravyne

Weere hyest set, and thanne the foules smale

That eten, as hem Nature wolde enclyne,

As worm or thyng of which I telle no tale;

And water-foul sat lowest in the dale;

But foul that lyveth by sed sat on the grene,

And that so fele that wonder was to sene.

330 There myghte men the royal egle fynde,

That with his sharpe lok perseth the sonne,

And othere egles of a lowere kynde,

Of whiche that clerkes wel devyse conne.

Ther was the tiraunt with his fetheres donne

And grey -- I mene the goshauk that doth pyne

To bryddes for his outrageous ravyne.

The gentyl faucoun, that with his feet distrayneth

The kynges hand; the hardy sperhauk eke,

The quayles foo; the merlioun, that payneth

340 Hymself ful ofte the larke for to seke;

There was the douve with hire yen meke;

The jelous swan, ayens his deth that syngeth.

The oule ek, that of deth the bode bryngeth.

The crane, the geaunt, with his trompes soun;

The thef, the chough; and ek the janglynge pye;

The skornynge jay; the eles fo, heroun;

The false lapwynge, ful of trecherye;

The stare, that the conseyl can bewrye;

The tame ruddok, and the coward kyte;

350 The kok, that orloge is of thorpes lyte;

The sparwe, Venus sone; the nyghtyngale,

That clepeth forth the grene leves newe;

The swalwe, mortherere of the foules smale

That maken hony of floures freshe of hewe;

The wedded turtil, with hire herte trewe;

The pekok, with his aungels fetheres bryghte;

The fesaunt, skornere of the cok by nyghte;

The waker goos; the cukkow ever unkynde;

The popynjay, ful of delicasye;

360 The drake, stroyere of his owene kynde;

The stork, the wrekere of avouterye;

The hote cormeraunt of glotenye;

The raven wys; the crowe with vois of care;

The throstil old; the frosty feldefare.

What shulde I seyn? Of foules every kynde

That in this world han fetheres and stature

Men myghten in that place assembled fynde

Byfore the noble goddesse Nature,

And ech of hem dide his besy cure

370 Benygnely to chese or for to take,

By hire acord, his formel or his make.

But to the poynt: Nature held on hire hond

A formel egle, of shap the gentilleste

That evere she among hire werkes fond,

The moste benygne and the goodlieste.

In hire was everi vertu at his reste,

So ferforth that Nature hireself hadde blysse

To loke on hire, and ofte hire bek to kysse.

Nature, the vicaire of the almyghty Lord,

380 That hot, cold, hevy, lyght, moyst, and dreye

Hath knyt by evene noumbres of acord,

In esy voys began to speke and seye,

"Foules, tak hed of my sentence, I preye,

And for youre ese, in fortheryng of youre nede,

As faste as I may speke, I wol yow speede.

"Ye knowe wel how, Seynt Valentynes day,

By my statut and thorgh my governaunce,

Ye come for to cheese -- and fle youre wey --

Youre makes, as I prike yow with plesaunce;

390 But natheles, my ryghtful ordenaunce

May I nat lete for al this world to wynne,

That he that most is worthi shal begynne.

"The tersel egle, as that ye knowe wel,

The foul royal, above yow in degre,

The wyse and worthi, secre, trewe as stel,

Which I have formed, as ye may wel se,

In every part as it best liketh me --

It nedeth not his shap yow to devyse --

He shal first chese and speken in his gyse.

400 "And after hym by ordre shul ye chese,

After youre kynde, everich as yow lyketh,

And, as youre hap is, shul ye wynne or lese.

But which of yow that love most entriketh,

God sende hym hire that sorest for hym syketh!"

And therwithal the tersel gan she calle,

And seyde, "My sone, the choys is to the falle.

"But natheles, in this condicioun

Mot be the choys of everich that is heere,

That she agre to his eleccioun,

410 Whoso he be that shulde be hire feere.

This is oure usage alwey, fro yer to yeere,

And whoso may at this tyme have his grace

In blisful tyme he cam into this place!"

With hed enclyned and with humble cheere

This royal tersel spak, and tariede noght:

"Unto my soverayn lady, and not my fere,

I chese, and chese with wil, and herte, and thought,

The formel on youre hond, so wel iwrought,

Whos I am al, and evere wol hire serve,

420 Do what hire lest, to do me lyve or sterve;

"Besekynge hire of merci and of grace,

As she that is my lady sovereyne;

Or let me deye present in this place.

For certes, longe may I nat lyve in payne,

For in myn herte is korven every veyne.

Havynge reward only to my trouthe,

My deere herte, have on my wo som routhe.

"And if that I be founde to hyre untrewe,

Disobeysaunt, or wilful necligent,

430 Avauntour, or in proces love a newe,

I preye to yow this be my jugement:

That with these foules I be al torent,

That ilke day that evere she me fynde

To hir untrewe, or in my gilt unkynde.

"And syn that non loveth hire so wel as I,

Al be she nevere of love me behette,

Thanne oughte she be myn thourgh hire mercy,

For other bond can I non on hire knette.

Ne nevere for no wo ne shal I lette

440 To serven hire, how fer so that she wende;

Say what yow list, my tale is at an ende."

Ryght as the freshe, rede rose newe

Ayeyn the somer sonne coloured is,

Ryght so for shame al wexen gan the hewe

Of this formel, whan she herde al this;

She neyther answerde wel, ne seyde amys,

So sore abasht was she, tyl that Nature

Seyde, "Doughter, drede yow nought, I yow assure."

Another tersel egle spak anon,

450 Of lower kynde, and seyde, "That shal nat be!

I love hire bet than ye don, by Seint John,

Or at the leste I love hire as wel as ye,

And lenger have served hire in my degre;

And if she shulde have loved for long lovynge,

To me allone hadde be the guerdonynge.

"I dar ek seyn, if she me fynde fals,

Unkynde, janglere, or rebel any wyse,

Or jelous, do me hangen by the hals!

And, but I bere me in hire servyse

460 As wel as that my wit can me suffyse,

From poynt in poynt, hyre honour for to save,

Take she my lif and al the good I have!"

The thridde tercel egle answerde tho,

"Now, sires, ye seen the lytel leyser heere;

For every foul cryeth out to ben ago

Forth with his make, or with his lady deere;

And ek Nature hireself ne wol not heere,

For taryinge here, not half that I wolde seye;

And but I speke, I mot for sorwe deye.

470 "Of long servyse avaunte I me nothing;

But as possible is me to deye to-day

For wo as he that hath ben languysshyng

This twenty wynter, and wel happen may;

A man may serven bet and more to pay

In half a yer, although it were no moore,

Than som man doth that hath served ful yoore.

"I seye not this by me, for I ne can

Don no servyse that may my lady plese;

But I dar seyn, I am hire treweste man

480 As to my dom, and faynest wolde hire ese.

At shorte wordes, til that deth me sese

I wol ben heres, whether I wake or wynke,

And trewe in al that herte may bethynke."

Of al my lyf, syn that day I was born,

So gentil ple in love or other thyng

Ne herde nevere no man me beforn --

Who that hadde leyser and connyng

For to reherse hire chere and hire spekyng;

And from the morwe gan this speche laste

490 Tyl dounward went the sonne wonder faste.

The noyse of foules for to ben delyvered

So loude rong, "Have don, and lat us wende!"

That wel wende I the wode hadde al to-shyvered.

"Com of!" they criede, "allas, ye wol us shende!

Whan shal youre cursede pletynge have an ende?

How sholde a juge eyther parti leve

For ye or nay withouten any preve?"

The goos, the cokkow, and the doke also

So cryede, "Kek kek! kokkow! quek quek!" hye,

500 That thourgh myne eres the noyse wente tho.

The goos seyde, "Al this nys not worth a flye!

But I can shape herof a remedie,

And I wol seye my verdit fayre and swythe

For water-foul, whoso be wroth or blythe!"

"And I for worm-foul," seyde the fol kokkow,

"For I wol of myn owene autorite,

For comune spede, take on the charge now,

For to delyvere us is gret charite."

"Ye may abyde a while yit, parde!"

510 Quod the turtel, "If it be youre wille

A wight may speke, hym were as fayr be stylle.

"I am a sed-foul, oon the unworthieste,

That wot I wel, and litel of connynge.

But bet is that a wyghtes tonge reste

Than entermeten hym of such doinge,

Of which he neyther rede can ne synge;

And whoso hit doth ful foule hymself acloyeth,

For office uncommytted ofte anoyeth."

Nature, which that alwey hadde an ere

520 To murmur of the lewednesse behynde,

With facound voys seyde, "Hold youre tonges there!

And I shal sone, I hope, a conseyl fynde

Yow to delyvere, and fro this noyse unbynde:

I juge, of every folk men shul oon calle

To seyn the verdit for yow foules alle."

Assented were to this conclusioun

The briddes alle; and foules of ravyne

Han chosen fyrst, by pleyn eleccioun,

The tercelet of the faucoun to diffyne

530 Al here sentence, and as him lest, termyne;

And to Nature hym gonne to presente,

And she accepteth hym with glad entente.

The terslet seyde thanne in this manere:

"Ful hard were it to preve by resoun

Who loveth best this gentil formel heere;

For everych hath swich replicacioun

That non by skilles may be brought adoun.

I can not se that argumentes avayle:

Thanne semeth it there moste be batayle."

540 "Al redy!" quod these egles tercels tho.

"Nay, sires," quod he, "if that I durste it seye,

Ye don me wrong, my tale is not ido!

For, sires -- ne taketh not agref I preye --

It may not gon as ye wolde in this weye;

Oure is the voys that han the charge in honde,

And to the juges dom ye moten stonde.

"And therfore pes! I seye, as to my wit,

Me wolde thynke how that the worthieste

Of knyghthod, and lengest had used it,

550 Most of estat, of blod the gentilleste,

Were sittyngest for hire, if that hir leste;

And of these thre she wot hireself, I trowe,

Which that he be, for it is light to knowe."

The water-foules han here hedes leid

Togedere, and of a short avysement,

Whan everych hadde his large golee seyd,

They seyden sothly, al by oon assent,

How that the goos, with here facounde gent,

"That so desyreth to pronounce oure nede,

560 Shal telle oure tale," and preyede "God hire spede!"

And for these water-foules tho began

The goos to speke, and in hire kakelynge

She seyde, "Pes! Now tak kep every man,

And herkeneth which a resoun I shal forth brynge!

My wit is sharp; I love no taryinge;

I seye I rede hym, though he were my brother,

But she wol love hym, lat hym love another!"

"Lo, here a parfit resoun of a goos!"

Quod the sperhauk; "Nevere mot she thee!

570 Lo, swich it is to have a tonge loos!

Now parde, fol, yit were it bet for the

Han holde thy pes than shewed thy nycete.

It lyth nat in his wit, ne in his wille,

But soth is seyd, `a fol can not be stille.'"

The laughter aros of gentil foules alle,

And right anon the sed-foul chosen hadde

The turtle trewe, and gonne hire to hem calle,

And preyeden hire to seyn the sothe sadde

Of this matere, and axede what she radde.

580 And she answerde that pleynly hire entente

She wolde shewe, and sothly what she mente.

"Nay, God forbede a lovere shulde chaunge!"

The turtle seyde, and wex for shame al red,

"Though that his lady everemore be straunge,

Yit lat hym serve hire ever, til he be ded.

Forsothe, I preyse nat the goses red;

`For, though she deyede, I wolde non other make;

I wol ben hires, til that the deth me take.'"

"Wel bourded," quod the doke, "by myn hat!

590 That men shulde loven alwey causeles!

Who can a resoun fynde or wit in that?

Daunseth he murye that is myrtheles?

Who shulde recche of that is recheles?"

"Ye queke," seyde the goos, "ful wel and fayre!

There been mo sterres, God wot, than a payre!"

"Now fy, cherl!" quod the gentil tercelet,

"Out of the donghil cam that word ful right!

Thow canst nat seen which thyng is wel beset!

Thow farst by love as oules don by lyght:

600 The day hem blent, ful wel they se by nyght.

Thy kynde is of so low a wrechednesse

That what love is, thow canst nouther seen ne gesse."

Tho gan the kokkow putte hym forth in pres

For foul that eteth worm, and seyde blyve: --

"So I," quod he, "may have my make in pes,

I reche nat how longe that ye stryve.

Lat ech of hem be soleyn al here lyve!

This is my red, syn they may nat acorde;

This shorte lessoun nedeth nat recorde."

610 "Ye, have the glotoun fild inow his paunche,

Thanne are we wel!" seyde the merlioun;

"Thow mortherere of the heysoge on the braunche

That broughte the forth, thow reufullest glotoun!

Lyve thow soleyn, wormes corupcioun,

For no fors is of lak of thy nature!

Go, lewed be thow whil the world may dure!"

"Now pes," quod Nature, "I comaunde heer!

For I have herd al youre opynyoun,

And in effect yit be we nevere the neer.

620 But fynally, this is my conclusioun,

That she hireself shal han hir eleccioun

Of whom hire lest; whoso be wroth or blythe,

Hym that she cheest, he shal hire han as swithe.

"For sith it may not here discussed be

Who loveth hire best, as seyde the tercelet,

Thanne wol I don hire this favour, that she

Shal han right hym on whom hire herte is set,

And he hire that his herte hath on hire knet:

Thus juge I, Nature, for I may not lye;

630 To non estat I have non other ye.

"But as for counseyl for to chese a make,

If I were Resoun, thanne wolde I

Conseyle yow the royal tercel take,

As seyde the tercelet ful skylfully,

As for the gentilleste and most worthi,

Which I have wrought so wel to my plesaunce

That to yow hit oughte to been a suffisaunce."

With dredful vois the formel hire answerde,

"My rightful lady, goddesse of Nature!

640 Soth is that I am evere under youre yerde,

As is everich other creature,

And mot be youres whil my lyf may dure;

And therfore graunteth me my firste bone,

And myn entente I wol yow sey right sone."

"I graunte it yow," quod she; and right anon

This formel egle spak in this degre:

"Almyghty queen, unto this yer be don,

I axe respit for to avise me,

And after that to have my choys al fre.

650 This al and som that I wol speke and seye;

Ye gete no more, although ye do me deye!

"I wol nat serve Venus ne Cupide,

Forsothe as yit, by no manere weye."

"Now, syn it may non otherwise betyde,"

Quod Nature, "heere is no more to seye.

Thanne wolde I that these foules were aweye,

Ech with his make, for taryinge lengere heere!"

And seyde hem thus, as ye shul after here.

"To yow speke I, ye tercelets," quod Nature,

660 "Beth of good herte, and serveth alle thre.

A yer is nat so longe to endure,

And ech of yow peyne him in his degre

For to do wel, for, God wot, quyt is she

Fro yow this yer; what after so befalle,

This entremes is dressed for yow alle."

And whan this werk al brought was to an ende,

To every foul Nature yaf his make

By evene acord, and on here way they wende.

And, Lord, the blisse and joye that they make!

670 For ech of hem gan other in wynges take,

And with here nekkes ech gan other wynde,

Thankynge alwey the noble goddesse of kynde.

But fyrst were chosen foules for to synge,

As yer by yer was alwey hir usaunce

To synge a roundel at here departynge,

To don Nature honour and plesaunce.

The note, I trowe, imaked was in Fraunce,

The wordes were swiche as ye may heer fynde,

The nexte vers, as I now have in mynde.

680 "Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne softe,

That hast thes wintres wedres overshake,

And driven away the longe nyghtes blake!

"Saynt Valentyn, that art ful hy on-lofte,

Thus syngen smale foules for thy sake:

Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne softe,

That hast thes wintres wedres overshake.

"Wel han they cause for to gladen ofte,

Sith ech of hem recovered hath hys make,

Ful blissful mowe they synge when they wake:

690 Now welcome, somer, with thy sonne softe,

That hast thes wintres wedres overshake,

And driven away the longe nyghtes blake!"

And with the shoutyng, whan the song was do

That foules maden at here flyght awey,

I wok, and othere bokes tok me to,

To reede upon, and yit I rede alwey.

I hope, ywis, to rede so som day

That I shal mete som thyng for to fare

The bet, and thus to rede I nyl nat spare.

BOECE

BOOK 1

Allas! I wepynge, am constreyned to bygynnen

vers of sorwful matere, that whilom in florysschyng

studie made delitable ditees. For

lo, rendynge muses of poetes enditen to me

thynges to ben writen, and drery vers of wretchidnesse

weten my face with verray teres. At

the leeste, no drede ne myghte overcomen

tho muses, that thei ne were felawes, and folwyden

my wey (that is to seyn, whan

10 I was exiled). They that weren glorie of

my youthe, whilom weleful and grene,

conforten nowe the sorwful wyerdes of me, olde

man. For eelde is comyn unwarly uppon me,

hasted by the harmes that Y have, and sorwe

hath comandid his age to ben in me. Heeris hore

arn schad overtymeliche upon myn heved, and

the slakke skyn trembleth of myn emptid body.

Thilke deth of men is weleful that ne comyth

noght in yeeris that ben swete, but

20 cometh to wrecches often yclepid. Allas,

allas! With how deef an ere deth, cruwel,

turneth awey fro wrecches and nayteth to

closen wepynge eien. Whil Fortune, unfeithful,

favourede me with lyghte goodes, the sorwful

houre (that is to seyn, the deth) hadde almoost

dreynt myn heved. But now, for Fortune

cloudy hath chaunged hir deceyvable

chere to meward, myn unpietous lif draweth

along unagreable duellynges in me. O ye,

30 my frendes, what or wherto avaunted ye

me to be weleful? For he that hath fallen stood

noght in stedefast degre.

In the mene while that I, stille, recordede

these thynges with myself and merkid my weply

compleynte with office of poyntel, I saw,

stondynge aboven the heghte of myn heved, a

womman of ful greet reverence by semblaunt,

hir eien brennynge and cleer-seynge over the

comune myghte of men; with a lifly colour

and with swich vigour and strengthe that it ne

myghte nat ben emptid, al were it so

10 that sche was ful of so greet age that men

ne wolden nat trowen in no manere that

sche were of our elde. The stature of hire was

of a doutous jugement, for somtyme sche constreyned

and schronk hirselven lik to the comune

mesure of men, and somtyme it semede

that sche touchede the hevene with the heghte

of here heved. And whan sche hef hir heved

heyere, sche percede the selve hevene so that

the sighte of men lokynge was in ydel.

20 Hir clothes weren makid of right delye

thredes and subtil craft of perdurable matere;

the whiche clothes sche hadde woven with

hir owene handes, as I knew wel aftir by hirselve

declarynge and schewynge to me. The

beaute [of] the whiche clothes a derknesse of a

forleten and despised elde hadde duskid and

dirked, as it is wont to dirken besmokede

ymages. In the nethereste hem or bordure of

thise clothes, men redden ywoven in a

30 Grekissch P (that signifieth the lif actif);

and aboven that lettre, in the heieste

bordure, a Grekyssh T (that signifieth the lif

contemplatif). And bytwixen thise two lettres

ther were seyn degrees nobly ywrought in

manere of laddres, by whiche degrees men

myghten clymben fro the nethereste lettre to the

uppereste. Natheles handes of some men hadden

korve that cloth by violence and by

strengthe, and everich man of hem hadde

40 boren awey swiche peces as he myghte

geten. And forsothe this forseide womman bar

smale bokis in hir right hand, and in hir left hand

sche bar a ceptre.

And whan she saughe thise poetical muses

aprochen aboute my bed and enditynge wordes

to my wepynges, sche was a litil amoeved, and

glowede with cruel eighen. "Who," quat sche,

"hath suffred aprochen to this sike man thise

comune strompettis of swich a place that

50 men clepen the theatre? The whiche nat

oonly ne asswagen noght his sorwes with

none remedies, but thei wolden fedyn and

noryssen hym with sweete venym. Forsothe

thise ben tho that with thornes and prikkynges

of talentz or affeccions, whiche that ne bien

nothyng fructifyenge nor profitable, destroyen

the corn plentyvous of fruytes of resoun. For

thei holden hertes of men in usage, but thei

delyvre noght folk fro maladye. But yif ye

60 muses hadden withdrawen fro me with

youre flateries any unkunnynge and unprofitable

man, as men ben wont to fynde

comonly among the peple, I wolde wene suffre

the lasse grevosly; forwhi, in swych an unprofitable

man, myne ententes weren nothyng

endamaged. But ye withdrawen me this man,

that hath ben noryssed in the studies or scoles of

Eliaticis and Achademycis in Grece. But goth

now rather awey, ye mermaydenes, whiche

70 that ben swete til it be at the laste, and

suffreth this man to ben cured and heeled

by myne muses (that is to seyn, by noteful

sciences)."

And thus this companye of muses, iblamed,

casten wrothly the chere dounward to the erthe,

and, schewynge by rednesse hir schame, thei

passeden sorwfully the thresschefold. And I, of

whom the sighte, ploungid in teeres, was dirked

so that Y ne myghte noght knowen what

80 that womman was of so imperial auctorite,

I wax al abayssched and astoned, and caste

my syghte doun to the erthe, and bygan stille for

to abide what sche woolde doon aftirward. Tho

com sche ner and sette her doun uppon the

uttereste corner of my bed; and sche, byholdynge

my chere that was cast to the erthe

hevy and grevous of wepynge, compleynede

with thise wordis that I schal seyn the perturbacion thought.

"Allas! How the thought of this man, dreynt

in overthrowynge depnesse, dulleth and forleteth

his propre clernesse, myntynge to gon into

foreyne dirknesses as ofte as his anoyos

bysynes waxeth withoute mesure, that is

dryven with werldly wyndes. This man, that

whilom was fre, to whom the hevene was

opyn and knowen, and was wont to gon in

hevenliche pathes, and saughe the lyghtnesse

10 of the rede sonne, and saughe the

sterres of the coolde mone, and whiche

sterre in hevene useth wandrynge recourses

iflyt by diverse speeris -- this man, overcomere,

hadde comprehendid al this by nombre (of

acontynge in astronomye). And, over this, he

was wont to seken the causes whennes the sounynge

wyndes moeven and bysien the smothe

watir of the see; and what spirit turneth the

stable hevene; and why the sterre ariseth

20 out of the rede est, to fallen in the westrene

wawes; and what attemprith the lusty

houres of the firste somer sesoun, that highteth

and apparaileth the erthe with rosene

floures; and who maketh that plentyvous

autumpne in fulle [yere] fletith with hevy

grapes. And eek this man was wont to tellen

the diverse causes of nature that weren yhidd.

Allas! Now lyth he emptid of lyght of his

thoght, and his nekke is pressyd with hevy

30 cheynes, and bereth his chere enclyned

adoun for the grete weyghte, and is constreyned

to loken on the fool erthe!"

"But tyme is now," quod sche, "of medicyne

more than of compleynte." Forsothe thanne

sche, entendynge to meward with al the lookynge

of hir eien, seyde: "Art nat thou he,"

quod sche, "that whilom, norissched with my

melk and fostred with myne metes, were escaped

and comyn to corage of a parfit man?

Certes I yaf the swiche armures that, yif thou

thiselve ne haddest first cast hem awey,

10 they schulden han defended the in sekernesse

that mai nat ben overcomyn. Knowestow

me nat? Why arttow stille? Is it for

schame or for astonynge? It were me levere

that it were for schame, but it semeth me that

astonynge hath oppresside the." And whan sche

say me nat oonly stille but withouten office

of tunge and al dowmbe, sche leyde hir hand

sooftly uppon my breest and seide: "Here nys

no peril," quod sche; "he is fallen into a

20 litargye, whiche that is a comune seknesse

to hertes that been desceyved. He hath a

litil foryeten hymselve, but certes he schal

lightly remembren hymself yif so be that he

hath knowen me or now; and that he may so

doon, I will wipe a litil his eien that ben

dirked by the cloude of mortel thynges." Thise

woordes seide sche, and with the lappe of hir

garnement yplited in a frownce sche dryede

myn eien, that weren fulle of the wawes of wepynges.

Thus, whan that nyght was discussed and

chased awey, dirknesses forleten me, and to

myn eien repeyred ayen hir firste strengthe.

And ryght by ensaumple as the sonne is hydd

whan the sterres ben clustred (that is to seyn,

whan sterres ben covered with cloudes) by

a swyft wynd that hyghte Chorus, and that

the firmament stant dirked with wete plowngy

cloudes; and that the sterres nat apeeren

10 upon hevene, so that the nyght semeth

sprad upon erthe: yif thanne the wynde that

hyghte Boreas, isent out of the kaves of the

cuntre of Trace, betith this nyght (that is to

seyn, chaseth it awey) and discovereth the

closed day, thanne schyneth Phebus ischaken

with sodeyn light and smyteth with his beemes

in merveylynge eien.

Ryght so, and noon other wise, the cloudes

of sorwe dissolved and doon awey, I took hevene,

and resceyved mynde to knowe the face

of my fisycien; so that [whan] [that] I sette myne

eien on hir and fastned my lookynge, I byholde

my noryce, Philosophie, in whoos houses I

hadde conversed and hauntyd fro my youthe;

and I seide thus: "O thou maystresse of alle

vertues, descended from the sovereyne

10 sete, whi arttow comen into this solitarie

place of myn exil? Artow comen for thou

art maad coupable with me of false blames?"

"O," quod sche, "my nory, schulde I forsake

the now, and schulde I nat parten with the by

comune travaile the charge that thow hast

suffred for envye of my name? Certes it nere nat

leveful ne syttynge thyng to Philosophie to leten

withouten companye the weye of hym that is

innocent. Schulde I thanne redowte my

20 blame and agrysen as though ther were

byfallen a newe thyng? For trowestow that

Philosophie be now alderferst assailed in periles

by folk of wykkide maneris? Have I noght

stryven with ful greet strif in old tyme, byfor the

age of my Plato, ayens the foolhardynesse

of folye? And eek, the same Plato lyvynge, his

mayster Socrates desserved victorie of unryghtful

deth in my presence. The heritage of

the whiche Socrates (the heritage is to

30 seyn the doctryne of the whiche Socrates

in his opinyoun of felicite, that I clepe

welefulnesse) whan that the peple of Epycuriens

and Stoyciens and manye othere enforceden

hem to gon ravyssche everyche man for his part

(that is to seyn, that everych of hem wolde

drawen to the deffense of his opinyoun the

wordes of Socrates), they as in partye of hir

preye todrowen me, cryinge and debatyng

ther-ayens, and korven and torente my

40 clothes that I hadde woven with myn

handes; and with tho cloutes that thei

hadden arased out of my clothes thei wenten

awey wenynge that I hadde gon with hem every

del. In whiche Epycuriens and Stoyciens for as

myche as ther semede some traces or steppes of

myn abyte, the folie of men wenynge tho

Epycuryens and Stoyciens my familiers pervertede

some thurw the errour of the wikkide

or unkunnynge multitude of hem.

50 (This is to seyn, that for they semeden

philosophres thei weren pursuyed to the

deth and slayn.)

"So yif thou ne hast noght knowen the

exilynge of Anaxogore, ne the empoisonynge of

Socrates, ne the turmentz of Zeno, for they

weren straungiers, yit myghtestow han knowen

the Senecciens and the Canyos and the Soranas,

of whiche folk the renoun is neyther over-oold

ne unsollempne. The whiche men nothyng

60 elles ne broght hem to the deeth but oonly

for thei weren enformyd of myne maneris,

and semyde moost unlyk to the studies of

wykkid folk. And forthi thou oughtest noght to

wondren thoughe that I, in the byttere see of this

lif, be fordryven with tempestes blowynge

aboute, in the whiche this is my moste purpoos,

that is to seyn to displesen to wikkide men. Of

whiche schrewes al be the oost nevere so greet,

it es to despise; for it nys nat governyd with

70 no ledere (of resoun), but it es ravyssched

oonly by fleetynge errour folyly and

lyghtly; and yif they somtyme, makynge an oost

ayens us, assayle us as strengere, our ledere

draweth togidre his richesses into his tour, and

they ben ententyf aboute sarpleris or sachelis,

unprofitable for to taken. But we that ben heghe

above, syker fro alle tumolte and wood noyse,

warnstoryd and enclosed in swiche a palys

whider as that chaterynge or anoyinge

80 folye ne may nat atayne, we scorne swyche

ravyneres and henteres of fouleste thynges.

"Whoso it be that is cleer of vertue, sad and

wel ordynat of lyvynge, that hath put under

fote the proude wierdes, and loketh upryght

upon either fortune, he may holden his chere

undesconfited. The rage ne the manaces of the

see, commoevynge or chasynge upward hete

fro the botme, ne schal nat moeve that man.

Ne the unstable mowntaigne that highte Visevus,

that writhith out thurw his brokene

10 chemeneyes smokynge fieres, ne the wey of

thonderleit, that is wont to smyten hye

toures, ne schal nat moeve that man. Wharto

thanne, o wrecches, drede ye tirauntz that ben

wode and felenous withouten ony strengthe?

Hope aftir no thyng, ne drede nat; and so

schaltow desarmen the ire of thilke unmyghty

tiraunt. But whoso that, qwakynge, dredeth

or desireth thyng that nys noght stable of his

ryght, that man that so dooth hath cast

20 awey his scheeld, and is remoeved from

his place, and enlaceth hym in the cheyne

with whiche he mai ben drawen.

"Felistow," quod sche, "thise thynges, and

entren thei aughte in thy corage? Artow like

an asse to the harpe? Why wepistow, why

spillestow teeris? Yif thou abidest after helpe

of thi leche, the byhoveth discovre thy

wownde."

Tho I, that hadde gaderyd strengthe in my

corage, answeride and seide: "And nedeth it

yit," quod I, "of rehersynge or of ammonicioun?

10 And scheweth it nat ynoghe by

hymselve the scharpnesse of Fortune, that

waxeth wood ayens me? Ne moeveth it nat

the to seen the face or the manere of this place?

Is this the librarye which that thou haddest

chosen for a ryght certein sege to the in myn

hous, there as thow disputedest ofte with me

of the sciences of thynges touchynge dyvinyte

and mankynde? Was thanne myn habit

swiche as it is now? Was my face or my

20 chere swyche as now whan I soghte with

the the secretis of nature, whan thow enformedest

my maneris and the resoun of al my

lif to the ensaumple of the ordre of hevene? Is

noght this the gerdouns that I referre to the, to

whom I have ben obeisaunt?

"Certes thou confermedest by the mouth of

Plato this sentence, that is to seyn that comune

thynges or comunalites weren blisful yif they

that hadden studied al fully to wysdom

30 governeden thilke thynges; or elles yif it so

befille that the governours of comunalites

studieden to geten wysdom. Thou seidest eek by

the mouth of the same Plato that it was a

necessarie cause wise men to taken and desire

the governance of comune thynges, for that the

governementz of cites, ilefte in the handes of

felonous turmentours citezeens, ne schulde

noght bryngen in pestilence ande destruccioun

to good folk. And therfore I, folwynge

40 thilke auctorite, desired to putten forth in

execucion and in acte of comune administracioun

thilk thynges that I hadde lernyd

of the among my secre restyng-whiles.

"Thow and God, that putte the in the

thoughtes of wise folk, ben knowynge with me

that nothyng ne brought me to maistrie or

dignyte but the comune studie of alle goodnesse.

And therof cometh it that bytwixen

wikkid folk and me han ben grevous

50 discordes, that ne myghte nat ben relessed

by preyeris; for this liberte hath the fredom

of conscience, that the wraththe of more myghty

folk hath alwey ben despised of me for savacioun

of right. How ofte have I resisted and withstonden

thilke man that highte Connigaste, that

made alwey assawtes ayens the propre fortunes

of pore feble folk! How ofte eek have I put of

or cast out hym Trygwille, provoste of the

kyngis hous, bothe of the wronges that he

60 hadde bygunne to doon, and ek fully

performed! How ofte have I covered and

defended by the auctorite of me put ayens perils

(that is to seyn, put myn auctorite in peril for)

the wrecche pore folk, that the covetise of

straungiers unpunyschid tormentyde alwey with

myseses and grevances out of nombre! Nevere

man ne drow me yit fro right to wrong. Whan

I say the fortunes and the richesses of the peple

of the provinces ben harmed or amenuced

70 outher be pryve ravynes or by comune

tributz or cariages, as sory was I as they

that suffriden the harm. (Glosa. Whan that

Theodoric, the kyng of Gothes, in a dere yeer,

hadde his gerneeris ful of corn, and comaundede

that no man schulde byen no coorn til

his corn were soold, and that at a grevous dere

prys, Boece withstood that ordenaunce and

overcome it, knowynge al this the kyng hymselve.

Coempcioun is to seyn comune

80 achat or beyinge togidre, that were establissed

upon the peple by swich a

manere imposicioun, as whoso boughte a

busschel corn, he most yyve the kyng the fyfte

part.) Textus. Whan it was in the sowre hungry

tyme, ther was establissed or cryed grevous and

unplitable coempcioun, that men sayen wel it

schulde gretly tormenten and endamagen al the

provynce of Campayne, I took stryf ayens the

provost of the pretorie for comune profit;

90 and, the kyng knowynge of it, Y overcom

it, so that the coempcioun ne was nat axid

ne took effect. Paulyn, a conseiller of Rome, the

richesses of the whiche Paulyn the howndes of

the paleys (that is to seyn, the officeres) wolden

han devoured by hope and covetyse, yit drowe

I hym out of the jowes of hem that gapeden. And

for as moche as the peyne of the accusacioun

ajugid byforn ne schulde noght sodeynli henten

ne punyssche wrongfully Albyn, a

100 conseiller of Rome, I putte me ayens the

hates and indignacions of the accusour

Cyprian. Is it nat thanne inoghe isene that I have

purchaced grete discordes ayens myself? But I

oughte be the more asseured ayens alle othere

folk, that for the love of rightwisnesse I ne

reservede nevere nothyng to myselve to hemward

of the kyngis halle, by whiche I were the

more syker. But thurw tho same accusours accusynge

I am condempned.

110 "Of the nombre of whiche accusours,

oon Basilius, that whilom was chased out of

the kyngis servyse, is now compelled in accusynge

of my name for nede of foreyne moneye.

Also Opilion and Gaudencius han accused me,

al be it so that the justise regal hadde whilom

demed hem bothe to gon into exil for hir trecheries

and frawdes withouten nombre, to whiche

juggement they nolden nat obeye, but defendeden

hem by the sikernesse of holi

120 houses (that is to seyn, fledden into

seyntewarie); and whan this was aperceyved

to the kyng, he comandide that, but they

voydide the cite of Ravenne by certeyn day

assigned, that men scholde marken hem on the

forheved with an hoot iren and chasen hem out

of towne. Now what thyng semyth myghte ben

likned to this cruelte? For certes thilke same day

was resceyved the accusynge of myn name by

thilke same accusours. What may ben seyd

130 herto? Hath my studie and my kunnynge

disserved thus? Or elles the forseyde

dampnacioun of me -- made that hem ryghtfulle

accusours or no? Was noght Fortune

aschamed of this? Certes, al hadde noght

Fortune ben aschamed that innocence was

accused, yit oughte sche han hadde schame of

the fylthe of myn accusours.

"But axestow in somme of what gylt I am

accused? Men seyn that I wolde saven

140 the companye of the senatours. And

desirestow to heren in what manere? I am

accused that I schulde han disturbed the

accusour to beren lettres, by whiche he scholde

han maked the senatours gylty ayens the kynges

real majeste. O Maystresse, what demestow of

this? Schal I forsake this blame, that Y ne be no

schame to the? Certes I have wolde it (that is to

seyn, the savacioun of the senat), ne I schal

nevere letten to wilne it. And that I

150 confesse and am aknowe; but the entente of

the accusour to ben distorbed schal cese.

For schal I clepe it thanne a felonye or a synne

that I have desired the savacioun of the ordre of

the senat? And certes yit hadde thilke same senat

don by me thurw hir decretz and hir jugementz

as thoughe it were a synne and a felonye (that

is to seyn, to wilne the savacioun of hem). But

folye, that lyeth alwey to hymselve, may noght

chaunge the merite of thynges, ne I trowe

160 nat by the jugement of Socrates that it were

leveful to me to hide the sothe ne assente

to lesynges.

"But certes, how so evere it be of this, I putte

it to gessen or prisen to the jugement of the and

of wys folk. Of whiche thyng al the ordenaunce

and the sothe, for as moche as folk that been to

comen aftir our dayes schullen knowen it, I have

put it in scripture and in remembraunce. For

touchynge the lettres falsly maked, by

170 whiche lettres I am accused to han hoped

the fredom of Rome, what aperteneth me

to speken therof? Of whiche lettres the fraude

hadde ben schewed apertely, yif I hadde had

liberte for to han used and ben at the confessioun

of myn accusours, the whiche thyng in

alle nedes hath greet strengthe. For what other

fredom mai men hopen? Certes I wolde that som

other fredom myghte ben hoped; I wolde

thanne han answeryd by the wordys of a

180 man that hyghte Canyus. For whan he was

accused by Gaius Cesar, Germaynes sone,

that he was knowynge and consentynge of a

conjuracioun ymaked ayens hym, this Canyus

answeride thus: `Yif I hadde wyst it, thou

haddest noght wyst it.'

"In whiche thyng sorwe hath noght so dullid

my wyt that I pleyne oonly that schrewed folk

apparailen felonyes ayens vertu; but I wondre

gretly how that thei may performe thynges

190 that thei han hoped for to doon. Forwhy to

wylne schrewydnesse -- that cometh peraventure

of our defaute; but it is lyk a monstre

and a merveyle how that, in the presente

sight of God, may ben acheved and performed

swiche thynges as every felonous man

hath conceyved in his thoght ayens innocentz.

For whiche thynge oon of thy familiers

noght unskilfully axed thus: `Yif God

is, whennes comen wikkide thyngis? And

200 yif God ne is, whennes comen gode

thynges?' But al hadde it ben leveful that

felonous folk, that now desiren the blood and

the deeth of alle gode men and ek of al the senat,

han wilned to gon destroyen me, whom they han

seyn alwey bataylen and defenden gode men

and eek al the senat, yit hadde I nought

disservyd of the faderes (that is to seyn, of

the senatours) that they schulden wilne my

destruccioun.

210 "Thow remembrest wel, as I gesse, that

whan I wolde doon or seyn any thyng,

thow thiselve alwey present reuledest me. [And]

[wel] [thow] [remembrest] at the cite of Verone,

whan that the kyng, gredy of comune slaughtre,

caste hym to transporten upon al the ordre of the

senat the gilt of his real majeste, of the whiche

gilt that Albyn was accused, with how gret

sykernesse of peril to me defended I al the senat!

Thow woost wel that I sey sooth, ne

220 I n' avawntede me nevere in preysynge

of myselve. For alwey whan any wyght

resceyveth precious renoun in avauntynge

hymselve of his werkes, he amenuseth the secre

of his conscience. But now thow mayst wel seen

to what eende I am comen for myn innocence;

I resceyve peyne of fals felonye for guerdoun of

verrai vertue. And what opene confessioun of

felonye hadde evere juges so accordaunt in

cruelte (that is to seyn, as myn accusynge

230 hath. that either errour of mannys wit, or

elles condicion of fortune, that is uncerteyn

to alle mortel folk, ne submyttede some of hem

(that is to seyn, that it ne enclynede som juge

to have pite or compassioun)? For althoughe I

hadde ben accused that I wolde brenne holi

houses and straungle preestis with wykkid

sweerd, or that I hadde greythed deth to alle

gode men, algates the sentence scholde han

punysshed me present, confessed or convict.

240 But now I am remuwed fro the cite of

Rome almest fyve hundred thowsand paas,

I am withoute deffense dampnyd to proscripcion

and to the deth for the studie and

bountes that I have doon to the senat. But, O,

wel ben thei wurthy of meryte (as who seith,

nay), ther myghte nevere yit noon of hem ben

convicte of swiche a blame as myn is. Of whiche

trespas myne accusours sayen ful wel the

dignete; the whiche dignyte, for thei

250 wolden derken it with medlynge of some

felonye, they bare me on hande and lieden

that I hadde pollut and defouled my conscience

with sacrilegie for covetise of dignyte. And

certes thou thiselve, that art plaunted in me,

chacedest out of the sege of my corage alle

covetise of mortel thynges, ne sacrilege ne

hadde no leve to han a place in me byforn

thyne eien. For thow droppiddest every day

in myn eris and in my thought thilke

260 comaundement of Pictagoras, that is to

seyn, men schal serven to God and noght

to goddes. Ne it was noght convenient ne no

nede to taken help of the fouleste spiritz -- I,

that thow hast ordeyned and set in swiche

excellence, that thou makedest me lyk to God.

And over this, the right clene secre chaumbre of

myn hous (that is to seyn, my wif), and the

companye of myne honeste freendes, and

my wyves fadir, as wel holi as worthy to

270 ben reverenced thurw his owene dedes,

defenden me fro alle suspecioun of swiche

blame. But O malice! For they that accusen me

taken of the, Philosophie, feith of so greet

blame, for they trowen that I have had affinyte

to malefice or enchauntement, bycause that I am

replenysshid and fulfild with thy techynges, and

enformed of thi maneris. And thus it suffiseth nat

oonly that thi reverence ne avayle me nat, but yif

that thow of thy free wil rather be

280 blemessched with myne offencioun.

"But certes, to the harmes that I have,

ther bytideth yit this encrees of harm, that the

gessynge and the jugement of moche folk ne

loken nothyng to the desertes of thynges, but

oonly to the aventure of fortune; and jugen

that oonly swiche thynges ben purveied of

God, whiche that temporel welefulnesse

commendeth. (Glose. As thus: that yif a

wyght have prosperite, he is a good man

290 and worthy to han that prosperite; and

whoso hath adversite, he is a wikkid

man, and God hath forsake hym, and he is

worthy to han that adversite. This is the

opinyoun of some folk.) Textus. And therof

cometh that good gessynge, first of alle thynge,

forsaketh wrecches. Certes it greveth me to

thynke ryght now the diverse sentences that the

peple seith of me. And thus moche I seie, that

the laste charge of contrarious fortune is

300 this: that whan eny blame is leid upon a

caytif, men wenen that he hath desservyd

that he suffreth. And I, that am put awey fro

gode men, and despoyled of dignytes, and

defouled of myn name by gessynge, have

suffride torment for my gode dedes. Certes me

semyth that I se the felonous covynes of wykkid

men habounden in joye and in gladnesse; and I

se that every lorel schapeth hym to fynde out

newe fraudes for to accuse good folk; and

310 I se that goode men [lien] overthrowen for

drede of my peril, and every luxurious

turmentour dar doon alle felonye unpunysschyd,

and ben excited therto by yiftes; and

innocentz ne ben noght oonly despoiled of

sikernesse, but of defense; and therfore me lyst manere:

"O thow makere of the wheel that bereth

the sterres, whiche that art festnyd to thi perdurable

chayer, and turnest the hevene with a

ravysschynge sweighe, and constreynest the

sterres to suffren thi lawe; so that the moone

somtyme, schynynge with hir fulle hornes metynge

with alle the beemes of the sonne hir

brothir, hideth the sterres that ben lasse; and

somtyme, whan the moone pale with hir

10 derke hornes aprocheth the sonne, leeseth

hir lyghtes; and that the eve sterre, Hesperus,

whiche that in the first tyme of the nyght

bryngeth forth hir colde arysynges, cometh eft

ayen hir used cours, and is pale by the morwe

at rysynge of the sonne, and is thanne clepid

Lucyfer! Thow restreynest the day by schortere

duellynge in the tyme of coold wynter that

maketh the leeves falle. Thow devydest the

swyfte tydes of the nyght, whan the hote

20 somer is comen. Thy myghte attempreth

the variauntz sesouns of the yer, so that

Zephirus, the debonere wynd, bryngeth ayen

in the first somer sesoun the leeves that the

wynd that hyghte Boreas hath reft awey in

autumpne (that is to seie, in the laste ende of

somer); and the seedes that the sterre that

highte Arcturus saugh ben waxen heye cornes

whan the sterre Syrius eschaufeth hem. Ther

nys no thyng unbounde from his olde lawe,

30 ne forleteth the werk of his propre estat.

"O thou governour, governynge alle

thynges by certein ende, whi refusestow oonly

to governe the werkes of men by duwe manere?

Why suffrestow that slydynge Fortune turneth

so grete enterchaungynges of thynges? So

that anoyous peyne, that scholde duweliche

punysche felons, punysscheth innocentz; and

folk of wikkide maneres sitten in heie chayeres;

and anoyinge folk treden, and that unrightfully,

40 on the nekkes of holi men; and

vertu, cleer and schynynge naturely, is

hidde in derke derknesses; and the rightful man

bereth the blame and the peyne of the feloun; ne

the forswerynge ne the fraude covered and

kembd with a false colour, ne anoieth nat to

schrewes? The whiche schrewes, whan hem list

to usen hir strengthe, they rejoyssen hem to

putten undir hem the sovereyne kynges, whiche

that peple withouten nombre dreden. O

50 thou, what so evere thou be that knyttest

alle boondes of thynges, loke on thise

wrecchide erthes. We men, that ben noght a foul

partie, but a fair partie of so greet a werk, we

ben turmented in this see of fortune. Thow

governour, withdraughe and restreyne the

ravysschynge flodes, and fastne and ferme thise

erthes stable with thilke boond by whiche thou

governest the hevene that is so large."

Whan I hadde with a contynuel sorwe

sobbyd or borken out thise thynges, sche, with

hir cheere pesible and nothyng amoeved with

my compleyntes, seide thus: "Whan I saugh

the," quod sche, "sorwful and wepynge, I

wiste anoon that thow were a wrecche and

exiled; but I wyste nevere how fer thyn exil

was yif thy tale ne hadde schewid it me. But

certes, al be thow fer fro thy cuntre, thou

10 n' art nat put out of it, but thow hast fayled

of thi weye and gon amys. And yif thou

hast levere for to wene that thow be put out

of thy cuntre, thanne hastow put out thyselve

rather than ony other wyght hath. For no

wyght but thyselve ne myghte nevere han doon

that to the. For yif thow remembre of what

cuntre thow art born, it nys nat governed by

emperoures, ne by governement of multitude,

as weren the cuntrees of hem of Atthenes;

20 but o lord and o kyng, and that is God, that

is lord of thi cuntre, whiche that rejoisseth

hym of the duellynge of his citezeens, and nat

for to putten hem in exil; of the whiche lord

it is a sovereyn fredom to ben governed by the

brydel of hym and obeye to his justice. Hastow

foryeten thilke ryghte oolde lawe of thi citee, in

the whiche cite it es ordeyned and establysschid

that what wyght that hath levere

founden therin his sete or his hous than

30 elleswhere, he may nat ben exiled by no

ryght fro that place? For whoso that is

contened inwith the palys and the clos of

thilke cite, ther nys no drede that he mai deserve

to ben exiled; but who that leteth the

wil for to enhabyten there, he forleteth also

to deserve to ben citezen of thilke cite. So that

I seie that the face of this place ne moeveth

me noght so mochel as thyn owene face, ne

I ne axe nat rather the walles of thy librarye,

40 apparayled and wrought with yvory

and with glas, than after the sete of thi

thought, in whiche I put noght whilom bookes,

but I putte that that maketh bokes wurthy

of prys or precyous, that is to seyn the sentence

of my bookes.

"And certeynly of thy dessertes bystowed in

comune good thow hast seyd soth, but after the

multitude of thy gode dedes thou hast seyd

fewe. And of the honestete or of the falsnesse

50 of thynges that ben opposed ayens

the, thow hast remembred thynges that ben

knowen to alle folk. And of the felonyes and

fraudes of thyn accusours, it semeth the have

touched it for sothe ryghtfully and schortly, al

myghten tho same thynges betere and more

plentevously ben couth in the mouth of the

peple that knoweth al this. Thow hast eek

blamed gretly and compleyned of the wrongdede

of the senat, and thow hast sorwyd

60 for my blame, and thow hast wepen for

the damage of thi renoun that is apayred;

and thi laste sorwe eschaufede ayens Fortune,

and compleyndest that guerdouns ne ben nat

eveneliche yolden to the dessertes of folk. And

in the lattre eende of thy wode muse, thow

preydest that thilke pees that governeth the

hevene schulde governe the erthe.

"But for that many [turbacions] of affeccions

han assailed the, and sorwe and ire and

70 wepynge todrawen the diversely, as thou

art now feble of thought, myghtyere remedies

ne schullen noght yit touchen the. For

wyche we wol usen somdel lyghtere medicynes,

so that thilke passiouns that ben waxen hard in

swellynge by perturbacions flowynge into thy

thought, mowen waxen esy and softe to resceyven

the strengthe of a more myghty and

more egre medicyne, by an esyere touchynge.

"Whan that the hevy sterre of the Cancre

eschaufeth by the bemes of Phebus (that is to

seyn, whan that Phebus the sonne is in the

sygne of the Cancre), whoso yeveth thanne

largely his seedes to the feeldes that refusen

to resceyven hem, lat hym gon, begiled of trust

that he hadde to his corn, to accornes of okes.

Yif thow wolt gadere vyolettes, ne go thow

nat to the purpre wode whan the feeld,

10 chirkynge, agryseth of cold by the felnesse

of the wynd that hyghte Aquilon. Yif thou

desirest or wolt usen grapes, ne seek thou nat

with a glotonos hand to streyne and presse the

stalkes of the vyne in the first somer sesoun;

for Bachus, the god of wyn, hath rather yyven

his yiftes to autumpne (the lattere ende of

somer). God tokneth and assigneth the tymes,

ablynge hem to hir propre offices, ne he ne suffreth

nat the stowndes whiche that hymself

20 hath devyded and constreyned to ben

imedled togidre. And forthy he that forleteth

certein ordenaunce of doynge by overthrowynge

wey, he hath no glad issue or ende of his

werkes.

"First wiltow suffre me to touche and assaye

th' estaat of thi thought by a fewe demaundes,

so that I may understande what be the manere

of thi curacioun?"

"Axe me," quod I, "at thi wille what thou

wolt, and I schal answere." Tho seyde sche

thus: "Whethir wenestow," quod sche, "that

this world be governed by foolyssche happes

and fortunows, or elles wenestow that ther

10 be inne it ony governement of resoun?"

"Certes," quod I, "I ne trowe nat in no

manere that so certeyn thynges schulden be

moeved by fortunows [folie]; but I woot wel

that God, makere and maister, is governour of

his werk, ne nevere nas yit day that myghte

putte me out of the sothnesse of that sentence."

"So it is," quod sche, "for the same thyng

songe thow a litil herebyforn, and bywayledest

and byweptest, that oonly men weren

20 put out of the cure of God; for of alle othere

thynges thou ne doutedest the nat that they

nere governed by resoun. But owgh! I wondre

gretly, certes, whi that thou art sik, syn that

thow art put in so holsome a sentence. But lat

us seken deppere; I conjecte that ther lakketh

Y not what. But sey me this: syn that thow

ne doutest noght that this world be governed

by God, with whiche governayles takestow

heede that it is governed?"

30 "Unnethes," quod I, "knowe I the sentence

of thy questioun, so that I ne may

nat yit answeren to thy demandes."

"I nas nat desseyved," quod sche, "that ther

ne faileth somwhat, by whiche the maladye of

perturbacion is crept into thi thought, so as

[by] the strengthe of the palys chynynge

[and] open. But sey me this: remembrestow

what is the ende of thynges, and whider that

the entencion of alle kende tendeth?"

40 "I have herd tolde it somtyme," quod I,

"but drerynesse hath dulled my memorie."

"Certes," quod sche, "thou wost wel whennes

that alle thynges bien comen and proceded?"

"I woot wel," quod I, and answerede that

God is bygynnynge of al.

"And how may this be," quod sche, "that,

syn thow knowest the bygynnynge of thynges,

that thow ne knowest nat what is the eende

of thynges? But swiche ben the customes

50 of perturbaciouns, and this power they han,

that they mai moeve a man from his place

(that is to seyn, fro the stabelnesse and perfeccion

of his knowynge); but certes, thei mai nat

al arrace hym, ne aliene hym in al. But I wolde

that thou woldest answere to this: Remembrestow

that thow art a man?"

Boece. "Whi schulde I nat remembren that?"

quod I.

Philosophie. "Maystow noght telle me

60 thanne," quod sche, "what thyng is a man?"

"Axestow me nat," quod I, "whethir

that I [woot wel that I] be a resonable mortel

beste? I woot wel, and I confesse wel that I am

it."

"Wystestow nevere yit that thow were ony

othir thyng?" quod sche.

"No," quod I.

"Now woot I," quod sche, "other cause of thi

maladye, and that ryght greet: thow hast

70 left for to knowen thyselve what thou art.

Thurw whiche I have pleynly fownde the

cause of thi maladye, or elles the entree of

recoverynge of thyn hele. For-why, for thow art

confunded with foryetynge of thiself, forthi

sorwestow that thow art exiled [and] [despoyled]

of thy propre goodes; and for thow ne woost

what is the eende of thynges, forthy demestow

that felonus and wikkide men ben myghty and

weleful; and for thow hast foryeten by

80 whiche governementz the werld is governed,

forthy weenestow that thise mutacions

of fortunes fleten withouten governour.

Thise ben grete causes, noght oonly to

maladye, but certes gret causes to deth. But I

thanke the auctour and the makere of hele, that

nature hath nat al forleten the. I have gret

noryssynges of thyn hele, and that is, the sothe

sentence of governance of the werld, that thou

bylevest that the governynge of it nis nat

90 subgit ne underput to the folye of thise

happes aventurous, but to the resoun of

God. And therfore doute the nothing, for of this

litel spark thine heet of liif schal shine.

"But for as moche as it is nat tyme yet of

fastere remedies, and the nature of thoughtes

desceyved is this, that, as ofte as they casten awey

sothe opynyouns, they clothen hem in false

opynyouns, of the whiche false opynyouns the

derknesse of perturbacion waxeth up, that

100 confowndeth the verray insyghte -- [that]

derknesse schal I assaie somwhat to maken

thynne and wayk by lyghte and meneliche

remedies; so that, aftir that the derknesse of

desceyvynge desyrynges is doon away, thow

mowe knowe the schynynge of verraye light.

"The sterres, covred with blake cloudes, ne

owen yeten adoun no lyght. Yif the truble

wynd that hyghte Auster, turnynge and walwynge

the see, edleth the heete (that is to

seyn, the boylynge up fro the bote), the

wawes, that whilo weren clere as glas and

lyk to the fayre bryghte dayes, withstande

anon the syghtes of en by the filthe and

ordure that is resolved. And the fleetynge

10 stree, that royleth doun diversely fro heye

ontaygnes, is areestid and resisted ofte

tye by the encountrynge of a stoon that is

departed and fallen fro soe roche. And forthy,

yif thou wolt loken and deen soth with cleer

lyght, and hoolden the weye with a ryght path,

weyve thow joie, dryf fro the drede, flee thow

hope, ne lat no sorwe aproche (that is to seyn,

lat non of thise foure passiouns overcoen the

or blenden the). For cloudy and derk is

20 thilke thoght, and bownde with bridelis,

where as thise thynges reignen."

BOOK 2

Aftir this sche stynte a lytel; and after that

sche hadde ygadrede by atempre stillenesse myn

attencioun, she seyde thus (as who so myghte

seyn thus: after thise thynges sche stynte a

litil, and whan sche aperceyved by atempre

stillenesse that I was ententyf to herkne hire,

sche bygan to speke in this wyse): "If I," quod

sche, "have undirstonden and knowen outrely

the causes and the habyt of thy maladye,

10 thow languyssest and art desfeted for desir

and talent of thi rather fortune. Sche (that

ilke Fortune) oonly, that is chaunged, as

thow feynest, to the-ward, hath perverted the

cleernesse and the estat of thi corage. I

undirstonde the felefolde colours and desceytes

of thilke merveylous monstre Fortune and how

sche useth ful flaterynge famylarite with hem

that sche enforceth to bygyle, so longe, til that

sche confounde with unsuffrable sorwe

20 hem that sche hath left in despeer unpurveied.

And yif thou remembrest wel the

kende, the maneris, and the desserte of thilke

Fortune, thou shalt wel knowe that, as in hir,

thow nevere ne haddest ne hast ylost any fair

thyng. But, as I trowe, I schal nat greetly

travailen to don the remembren on thise

thynges. For thow were wont to hurtlen and

despysen hir with manly woordes whan sche

was blaundyssching and present, and

30 pursuydest hir with sentences that weren

drawen out of myn entre (that is to seyn,

of myn enformacioun). But no sodeyn mutacioun

ne bytideth noght withouten a manere

chaungynge of corages; and so is it byfallen

that thou art a litil departed fro the pees of thi

thought.

"But now is tyme that thou drynke and ataste

some softe and delitable thynges, so that whanne

thei ben entred withynne the, it mowe

40 maken wey to strengere drynkes of medycines.

Com now forth, therfore, the

suasyoun of swetnesse rethorien, whiche that

goth oonly the righte wey while sche forsaketh

nat myn estatutz. And with Rethorice com forth

Musice, a damoysele of our hous, that syngeth

now lightere moedes or prolacions, now

hevyere. What eyleth the, man? What is it that

hath cast the into moornynge and into wepynge?

I trow that thou hast seyn some newe thyng

50 and unkouth. Thou wenest that Fortune be

chaunged ayens the; but thow wenest

wrong (yif thou that wene): alway tho ben hir

maneres. Sche hath rather kept, as to the-ward,

hir propre stablenesse in the chaungynge of

hirself. Ryght swiche was sche whan sche

flateryd the and desseyved the with unleful

lykynges of false welefulnesse. Thou hast now

knowen and ateynt the doutous or double visage

of thilke blynde goddesse Fortune. Sche,

60 that yit covereth and wympleth hir to other

folk, hath schewyd hir every del to the. Yif

thou approvest here (and thynkest that sche is

good), use hir maneris and pleyne the nat; and

yif thou agrisest hir false trecherie, despise and

cast awey hir that pleyeth so harmfully. For sche,

that is now cause of so mochel sorwe to the,

sholde ben cause to the of pees and of joye. Sche

hath forsaken the, forsothe, the whiche that

nevere man mai ben siker that sche ne schal

70 forsaken hym. (Glose. But natheles some

bookes han the texte thus: forsothe sche

hath forsaken the, ne ther nys no man siker

that sche ne hath nat forsake.) Holdestow

thanne thilke welefulnesse precious to the, that

schal passen? And is present Fortune dereworth

to the, whiche that nys nat feithful for to duelle,

and whan sche goth awey that sche bryngeth a

wyght in sorwe? For syn she may nat ben

withholden at a mannys wille, [and] sche

80 maketh hym a wrecche whan sche departeth

fro hym, what other thyng is

flyttynge Fortune but a maner schewynge of

wrecchidnesse that is to comen? Ne it suffiseth

nat oonly to loken on thyng that is present

byforn the eien of a man; but wisdom loketh and

mesureth the ende of thynges. And the same

chaungynge from oon into another (that is to

seyn, fro adversite into prosperite) maketh that

the manaces of Fortune ne ben nat for to

90 dreden, ne the flaterynges of hir to ben

desired. Thus, at the laste, it byhoveth the

to suffren wyth evene wil in pacience al that is

doon inwith the floor of Fortune (that is to seyn,

in this world), syn thou hast oonys put thy nekke

undir the yok of hir. For yif thow wilt writen a

lawe of wendynge and of duellynge to Fortune,

whiche that thow hast chosen frely to ben thi

lady, artow nat wrongful in that, and makest

Fortune wroth and aspre by thyn

100 inpacience? And yit thow mayst nat

chaungen hir. Yif thou committest and

betakest thi seyles to the wynd, thow schalt ben

shoven, nat thider that thow woldest, but whider

that the wynd schouveth the. Yif thow castest thi

seedes in the feeldes, thou sholdest han in

mynde that the yeres ben amonges, outherwhile

plentevous and outherwhile bareyne. Thow hast

bytaken thiself to the governaunce of Fortune

and forthi it byhoveth the to ben obeisaunt

110 to the maneris of thi lady. Enforcestow the

to aresten or withholden the swyftnesse

and the sweighe of hir turnynge wheel? O thow

fool of alle mortel foolis! Yif Fortune bygan to

duelle stable, she cessede thanne to ben Fortune.

"Whan Fortune with a proud ryght hand hath

turned hir chaungynge stowndes, sche fareth

lyke the maneres of the boylynge Eurippe.

(Glosa. Eurippe is an arm of the see that ebbeth

and floweth, and somtyme the streem is on

o side, and somtyme on the tothir.) Textus.

She, cruel Fortune, casteth adoun kynges that

whilom weren ydradd; and sche, desceyvable,

enhaunceth up the humble chere of hym

10 that is discounfited. Ne sche neither heereth

ne rekketh of wrecchide wepynges; and

she is so hard that sche leygheth and scorneth

the wepynges of hem, the whiche sche hath

maked wepe with hir free wille. Thus sche

pleyeth, and thus sche prooeveth hir strengthes,

and scheweth a greet wonder to alle hir servauntz

yif that a wyght is seyn weleful and

overthrowe in an houre.

"Certes I wolde pleten with the a fewe

thynges, usynge the woordes of Fortune. Tak

hede now thyselve, yif that sche asketh ryght:

`O thow man, wherfore makestow me gyltyf by

thyne every dayes pleynynges? What wrong

have I don the? What godes have I byreft the

that weren thyne? Stryf or pleet with me byforn

what juge that thow wolt of the possessioun

of rychesses or of dignytees; and yif

10 thou maist schewen me that ever any mortel

man hath resceyved ony of tho thynges

to ben hise in propre, thanne wil I graunte freely

that thilke thynges weren thyne whiche that

thow axest.

"Whan that nature brought the foorth out of

thi modir wombe, I resceyved the nakid and

nedy of alle thynges, and I norissched the with

my richesses, and was redy and ententyf thurwe

my favour to sustene the -- and that maketh

20 the now inpacient ayens me; and I

envyrounde the with al the habundaunce

and schynynge of alle goodes that ben in my

ryght. Now it liketh me to withdrawe myn

hand. Thow hast had grace as he that hath

used of foreyne goodes; thow hast no ryght to

pleyne the, as though thou haddest outrely

forlorn alle thy thynges. Why pleynestow

thanne? I have doon the no wrong. Richesses,

honours, and swiche othere thinges ben of

30 my right. My servauntz knowen me for

hir lady; they comen with me, and departen

whan I wende. I dar wel affermen hardely

that, yif tho thynges of whiche thow pleynest

that thou hast forlorn [hem] hadden ben

thyne, thow ne haddest nat lorn hem. Schal

I thanne, oonly, be defended to usen my ryght?

"Certes it is leveful to the hevene to maken

clere dayes, and after that to coveren tho same

dayes with dirke nyghtes. The yeer hath

40 eek leve to apparaylen the visage of the

erthe, now with floures, and now with

fruyt, and to confownden hem somtyme with

reynes and with coldes. The see hath eek his

ryght to ben somtyme calm and blaundysschyng

with smothe watir, and somtyme to ben

horrible with wawes and with tempestes. But

the covetise of men, that mai nat be stawnched

-- schal it bynde me to ben stedfast, syn that

stidfastnesse is uncouth to my maneris?

50 Swiche is my strengthe, and this pley

I pleye continuely. I torne the whirlynge

wheel with the turnynge sercle; I am glad to

chaungen the loweste to the heyeste, and the

heyeste to the loweste. Worth up yif thow

wolt, so it be by this lawe, that thow ne holde

nat that I do the wroong, though thow descende

adown whan the resoun of my pley axeth it.

Wystestow nat how Cresus, kyng of Lydyens,

of whiche kyng Cirus was ful sore agast a

60 lytil byforn -- that this rewliche Cresus

was caught of Cirus and lad to the fyer to

ben brend; but that a rayn descendede down

fro hevene that rescowyde hym? And is it out

of thy mynde how that Paulus, consul of Rome,

whan he had taken the kyng of Percyens, weep

pitously for the captivyte of the selve kyng?

What other thynge bywaylen the cryinges of

tragedyes but oonly the dedes of Fortune, that

with an unwar strook overturneth the

70 realmes of greet nobleye? (Glose. Tragedye

is to seyn a dite of a prosperite for a

tyme, that endeth in wrecchidnesse.) Lernedest

nat thow in Greek whan thow were yong, that

in the entre or in the seler of Juppiter ther ben

cowched two tonnes, the toon is ful of good,

and the tother is ful of harm? What ryght

hastow to pleyne, yif thou hast taken more

plentevously of the gode side (that is to seyn,

of my richesses and prosperites)? And

80 what ek yif Y ne be nat al departed fro

the? What eek yif my mutabilite yeveth

the ryghtful cause of hope to han yit bettere

thynges? Natheles dismaye the nat in thi

thought; and thow that art put in the comune

realme of alle, desire nat to lyven by thyn oonly

propre ryght.

"Though Plente that is goddesse of rychesses

hielde adoun with ful horn, and withdraweth

nat hir hand, as many richesses as the

see torneth upward sandes whan it is moeved

with ravysshynge blastes, or elles as manye

rychesses as ther schynen bryghte sterres in

hevene on the sterry nyghtes; yit, for al that,

mankende nolde nat cese to wepe wrecchide

pleyntes. And al be it so that God resceyveth

10 gladly hir preiers, and yyveth hem, as

fool-large, moche gold, and apparayleth

coveytous folk with noble or cleer honours;

yit semeth hem haven igeten nothyng, but

alwey hir cruel ravyne, devourynge al that

they han geten, scheweth othere gapynges (that

is to seyn, gapyn and desiren yit after mo rychesses).

What brydles myghte withholden to

any certeyn ende the disordene covetise of

men, whan evere the rather that it fletith

20 in large yiftes, the more ay brenneth in

hem the thurst of havynge? Certes he that

qwakynge and dredful weneth hymselven

nedy, he ne lyveth nevermo ryche.

"Therfore, yif that Fortune spake with the

for hirself in this manere, forsothe thow ne

haddest noght what thou myghtest answere.

And yif thow hast any thyng wherwith thow

mayst rightfully defenden thi compleynte, it

behoveth the to schewen it, and I wol yyve

the space to tellen it."

"Serteynly," quod I thanne, "thise ben faire

thynges and enoynted with hony swetnesse

10 of Rethorik and Musike; and oonly

whil thei ben herd thei ben delycious, but

to wrecches is a deppere felyng of harm

(this is to seyn, that wrecches felen the harmes

that thei suffren more grevously than the remedies

or the delites of thise wordes mowen gladen

or conforten hem). So that, whanne thise

thynges stynten for to soune in eris, the sorwe

that es inset greveth the thought."

"Right so is it," quod sche. "For thise ne

20 ben yit none remedies of thy maladye, but

they ben a maner norisschynges of thi

sorwe, yit rebel ayen thi curacioun. For whan

that tyme is, I schal moeve and ajuste swiche

thynges that percen hemselve depe. But natheles

that thow schalt noght wilne to leten thiself

a wrecche, hastow foryeten the nowmbre

and the maner of thi welefulnesse? I holde

me stille how that the sovereyn men of the

cite token the in cure and in kepynge,

30 whan thow were orphelyn of fadir and of

modir, and were chose in affynite of

prynces of the cite; and thow bygonne rather

to ben leef and deere than for to been a

neyghebour, the whiche thyng is the moste

precyous kende of any propinquyte or alliaunce

that mai ben. Who is it that ne seide tho that

thow neere right weleful, with so gret a nobleye

of thi fadres-in-lawe, and with the chastete

of thy wyf, and with the oportunyte

40 and noblesse of thyne masculyn children

(that is to seyn, thy sones)? And over al this

me list to passen of comune thynges, how

thow haddest in thy youthe dignytees that

weren wernd to oolde men; but it deliteth

me to comen now to the synguler uphepynge

of thi welefulnesse. Yif any fruyt of mortel

thynges mai han any weyghte or pris of welefulnesse,

myghtestow evere forgeten, for any

charge of harm that myghte byfalle the, remembraunce

50 of thilke day that thow seye

thi two sones maked conseileris and iladde

togidre fro thyn hous under so greet assemble

of senatours and under the blithnesse of peple,

and whan thow saye hem set in the court in

hir chayeres of dignytes? Thow, rethorien or

pronouncere of kynges preysynges, desservedest

glorie of wit and of eloquence whan thow, syttynge

bytwixen thi two sones conseylers, in the

place that highte Circo, fulfildest the abydynge

60 of the multitude of peple that was

sprad abouten the with so large preysynge

and laude as men syngen in victories. Tho

yave thow woordes to Fortune, as I trowe, (that

is to seyn, tho feffedestow Fortune with glosynge

wordes and desceyvedest hir) whan sche

accoyede the and norysside the as hir owne

delices. Thow bare awey of Fortune a yifte

(that is to seye, swich guerdoun) that sche

nevere yaf to prive man. Wiltow therfore

70 leye a reknynge with Fortune? Sche hath

now twynkled first upon the with a wikkid

eye. If thow considere the nowmbre and the

maner of thy blisses and of thy sorwes, thow

mayst noght forsaken that thow nart yit blisful.

For yif thou therfore wenest thiself nat

weleful, for thynges that tho semeden joyeful

ben passed, ther nys nat why thow sholdest

wene thiself a wrecche; for thynges that semen

now sory passen also. Artow now comen

80 first, a sodeyn gest, into the schadowe or

tabernacle of this lif? Or trowestow that

any stedfastnesse be in mannes thynges, whan

ofte a swyft hour dissolveth the same man (that

is to seyn, whan the soule departeth fro the

body)? For although that zelde is ther any

feith that fortunous thynges wollen dwellen,

yet natheles the laste day of a mannes lif is

a maner deth to Fortune, and also to thilke

that hath dwelt. And therfore what wenestow

90 dar rekke, yif thow forleete hir in

deyinge, or elles that sche, Fortune, forleete awey?

"Whan Phebus, the sonne, bygynneth to

spreden his clernesse with rosene chariettes,

thanne the sterre, ydymmed, paleth hir white

cheeres by the flambes of the sonne that overcometh

the sterre lyght. (This to seyn, whan

the sonne is rysen, the day-sterre waxeth pale,

and leeseth hir lyght for the grete bryghtnesse

of the sonne.) Whan the wode waxeth rody

of rosene floures in the fyrst somer sesoun

10 thurw the breeth of the wynd Zephirus that

waxeth warm, yif the cloudy wynd Auster

blowe felliche, than goth awey the fairnesse

of thornes. Ofte the see is cleer and calm

without moevynge flodes, and ofte the horrible

wynd Aquylon moeveth boylynge tempestes,

and overwhelveth the see. Yif the forme

of this world is so zeeld stable, and yif it torneth

by so manye entrechaungynges, wiltow

thanne trusten in the tumblenge fortunes of

20 men? Wiltow trowen on flyttynge goodes?

It is certeyn and establissched by lawe perdurable,

that nothyng that is engendred nys

stedfast ne stable."

Thanne seide I thus: "O norysshe of alle vertues,

thou seist ful sooth; ne I mai noght forsake

the ryght swyfte cours of my prosperite

(that is to seyn, that prosperite ne be comen

to me wonder swyftli and sone); but this is a

thyng that greetly smerteth me whan it remembreth

me. For in alle adversites of fortune

the moost unzeely kynde of contrarious

fortune is to han ben weleful."

10 "But that thow," quod sche, "abyest thus

the torment of thi false opynioun, that

maistow nat ryghtfully blamen ne aretten to

thynges. (As who seith, for thow hast yit

manye habundances of thynges.) Textus. For

al be it so that the ydel name of aventuros

welefulnesse moeveth the now, it is leveful that

thow rekne with me of how many grete thynges

thow hast yit plente. And therfore yif that

thilke thyng that thow haddest for moost

20 precyous in al thy rychesse of fortune be

kept to the yit by the grace of God unwemmed

and undefouled, maistow thanne

pleyne ryghtfully upon the mescheef of Fortune,

syn thow hast yit thi beste thynges?

Certes yit lyveth in good poynt thilke precyous

honour of mankynde, Symacus, thi wyves fader,

whiche that is a man maked al of sapience and

of vertu, the whiche man thow woldest byen

redyly with the pris of thyn owene lif. He

30 bywayleth the wronges that men don to

the, and nat for hymself; for he lyveth in

sikernesse of anye sentences put ayens hym.

And yit lyveth thi wyf, that is atempre of wyt

and passynge othere wommen in clennesse of

chastete; and, for I wol closen schortly hir

bountes, sche is lyk to hir fadir. I telle the wel

that sche lyveth, loth of this lyf, and kepeth

to the oonly hir goost, and is al maat and overcomen

by wepynge and sorwe for desir of

40 the; in the whiche thyng oonly I moot

graunten that thi welefulnesse is amenused.

What schal I seyn eek of thi two sones conseylours,

of whiche, as of children of hir age,

ther shyneth the liknesse of the wit of hir fadir

or of hir eldefader! And syn the sovereyne

cure of al mortel folk is to saven hir owene

lyves, O how weleful artow, if thow knowe

thy goodes! For yit ben ther thynges dwelled

to the-ward that no man douteth that they

50 ne be more derworthe to the than thyn

owene lif. And forthy drye thi teeris, for

yit nys nat every fortune al hateful to theward,

ne overgreet tempest hath nat yit fallen

upon the, whan that thyne ancres clyven faste,

that neither wolen suffren the counfort of this

tyme present ne the hope of tyme comyng to

passen ne to faylen."

"And I preie," quod I, "that faste mote thei

halden; for, whiles that thei halden, how so

60 evere that thynges been, I shal wel fleetyn

forth and escapyn: but thou mayst wel seen

how grete apparailes and array that me lakketh,

that ben passed awey fro me."

"I have somwhat avaunced and forthred

the," quod sche, "yif that thow anoye nat, or

forthynke nat of al thy fortune. (As who seith,

I have somwhat conforted the, so that thou

tempeste the nat thus with al thy fortune, syn

thow hast yit thy beste thynges.) But I mai

70 nat suffren thi delices, that pleynest the so

wepynge and angwysschous for that ther

lakketh somwhat to thy welefulnesse. For what

man is so sad or of so parfite welefulnesse, that

he ne stryveth and pleyneth on some halfe

ayen the qualite of his estat? Forwhy ful anguysschous

thing is the condicioun of mannes

goodes; for eyther it cometh nat altogidre to

a wyght, or elles it ne last nat perpetuel. For

som man hath gret rychesse, but he is

80 aschamed of his ungentil lynage; and som

man is renomyd of noblesse of kynrede, but

he is enclosed in so greet angwyssche of nede

of thynges that hym were levere that he were

unknowe; and som man haboundeth bothe in

rychesse and noblesse, but yit he bewayleth his

chaste lyf, for he ne hath no wyf; and som man

is wel and zelily ymaried, but he hath no children,

and norissheth his rychesses to the eyres

of straunge folk; and som man is gladed

90 with children, but he wepeth ful sory for

the trespas of his sone or of his doughter.

And for this ther ne accordeth no wyght lyghtly

to the condicioun of his fortune; for alwey to

every man ther is in somwhat that, unassayed,

he ne woot nat, or elles he dredeth that he hath

assaied. And adde this also, that every weleful

man hath a ful delicaat feelynge; so that, but

yif alle thynges byfalle at his owene wil, for

he is inpacient or is nat used to have noon

100 adversite, anoon he is throwen adoun for

every litil thyng. And ful litel thynges ben

tho that withdrawen the somme or the perfeccioun

of blisfulnesse fro hem that been most

fortunat. How manye men trowestow wolde

demen hemself to ben almoste in hevene, yif

thei myghten atayne to the leste partye of the

remenaunt of thi fortune? This same place

that thow clepest exil is contre to hem that

enhabiten here, and forthi nothyng [is.

110 wrecchide but whan thou wenest it. (As

who seith, thow thiself ne no wyght elles

nis a wrecche but whanne he weneth hymself

a wrechche by reputacion of his corage.) And

ayenward, alle fortune is blisful to a man by

the aggreablete or by the egalyte of hym that

suffreth it. What man is that that is so weleful

that nolde chaunge his estat whan he hath lost

pacience? The swetnesse of mannes welefulnesse

is spraynd with many bitternesses;

120 the whiche welefulnesse although it seme

swete and joieful to hym that useth it, yit

mai it nat ben withholden that it ne goth awey

whan it wole. Thanne is it wele seene how

wrecchid is the blisfulnesse of mortel thynges,

that neyther it dureth perpetuel with hem that

every fortune resceyven agreablely or egaly, ne

it deliteth nat in al to hem that ben angwyssous.

"O ye mortel folk, what seeke ye thanne blisfulnesse

out of yourself whiche that is put

130 in yowrself? Errour and folie confoundeth

yow. I schal schewe the schortly the

poynt of soverayn blisfulnesse. Is there anythyng

more precyous to the than thiself? Thow

wolt answere, `nay.' Thanne, yif it so be that

thow art myghty over thyself (that is to seyn,

by tranquillite of thi soule), than hastow thyng

in thi powere that thow noldest nevere leesen,

ne Fortune may nat bynymen it the. And that

thow mayst knowe that blisfulnesse ne mai

140 nat standen in thynges that ben fortunous

and temporel, now undirstond and gadere

it togidre thus: yif blisfulnesse be the soverayn

good of nature that lyveth by resoun,

ne thilke thyng nys nat soverayn good that

may ben taken awey in any wise (for more

worthy thyng and more dygne is thilke thyng

that mai nat ben take awey); than scheweth

it wel that the unstablenesse of fortune may

nat atayne to resceyven verray blisfulnesse.

150 And yit more over, what man that this

towmblynge welefulnesse ledeth, eyther

he woot that it is chaungeable, or elles he woot

it nat. And yif he woot it nat, what blisful

fortune may ther ben in the blyndnesse of ignoraunce?

And yif he woot that it is chaungeable,

he mot alwey ben adrad that he ne lese

that thyng that he ne douteth nat but that he

may leesen it (as who seith he mot bien alwey

agast lest he lese that he woot wel he may

160 lese it); for whiche the contynuel drede that

he hath ne suffreth hym nat to ben weleful --

or elles yif he lese it he weneth to ben

despised and forleten. Certes eek that is a

ful litel good that is born with evene herte

whan it es lost (that is to seyn, that men do no

more force of the lost than of the havynge).

And for as moche as thow thiself art he to

whom it hath be [sewed] and proved by ful

many demonstracyons, as I woot wele that

170 the soules of men ne mowen nat deyen in

no wyse; and ek syn it es cleer and certeyn

that fortunous welefulnesse endeth by the deth

of the body; it mai nat be douted that, yif that

deth may take awey blisfulnesse, that al the

kynde of mortel thyng ne descendeth into

wrecchidnesse by the ende of the deth. And

syn we knowe wel that many a man hath

sought the fruyt of blysfulnesse, nat oonly with

suffrynge of deeth, but eek with suffrynge

180 of peynes and tormentz, how myghte

thanne this present lif make men blisful,

syn that whanne thilke selve lif es ended it

ne maketh folk no wrechches?

"What maner man stable and war, that wol

fownden hym a perdurable seete, and ne wol

noght ben cast doun with the lowde blastes of

the wynd Eurus, and wole despise the see

manasynge with flodes; lat hym eschuwen to

bilde on the cop of the mountaigne, or in the

moyste sandes; for the felle wynd Auster tormenteth

the cop of the mountaigne with alle

hise strengthes, and the lause sandes refusen

10 to beren the hevy weyghte. And

forthi, yif thow wolt fleen the perilous

aventure (that is to seyn, of the werld) have

mynde certeynly to fycchen thin hous of a

myrie sete in a low stoon. For although the

wynd troublynge the see thondre with overthrowynges,

thou, that art put in quiete and

weleful by strengthe of thi palys, schalt leden

a cler age, scornynge the woodnesses and the

ires of the eyr.

"But for as mochel as the norisschynges of

my resouns descenden now into the, I trowe it

were tyme to usen a litel strengere medicynes.

Now undirstand heere; al were it so that the

yiftes of Fortune ne were noght brutel ne transitorie,

what is ther in hem that mai be thyn

in any tyme, or elles that it nys fowl, yif that

it be considered and lookyd parfitely? Richesses

ben they preciouse by the nature of hemself,

10 or elles by the nature of the? What is

most worth of rychesses? Is it nat gold or

myght of moneye assembled? Certes thilke

gold and thilke moneye schyneth and yeveth

bettre renoun to hem that dispenden it than

to thilke folk that mokeren it; for avaryce maketh

alwey mokereres to ben hated, and largesse

maketh folk cleer of renoun. For, syn that

swiche thyng as is transferred fro o man to an

othir ne may nat duellen with no man,

20 certes thanne is thilke moneye precyous

whan it is translated into other folk and

stynteth to ben had by usage of large yyvynge

of hym that hath yeven it. And also yif al the

moneye that is overal in the world were gadryd

toward o man, it scholde make alle othere men

to be nedy as of that. And certes a voys al hool

(that is to seyn, withouten amenusynge) fulfilleth

togydre the herynge of moche folk. But

certes your rychesses ne mowen noght

30 passen unto moche folk withouten amenusynge;

and whan they ben apassed, nedes

they maken hem pore that forgoon tho rychesses.

O streyte and nedy clepe I this richesse,

syn that many folk ne mai nat han it al, ne al

mai it nat comen to o man withoute povert

of alle othere folk. And the schynynge of

gemmes (that I clepe precyous stones) draweth

it nat the eighen of folk to hem-ward (that

is to seyn, for the beautes)? But certes, yif

40 ther were beaute or bountee in the schynynge

of stones, thilke clernesse is of the

stones hemselve, and nat of men; for whiche I

wondre gretly that men merveylen on swiche

thynges. Forwhi what thyng is it that, yif it

wanteth moevynge and joynture of soule and

body, that by right myghte semen a fair creature

to hym that hath a soule of resoun? For

al be it so that gemmes drawen to hemself a

litel of the laste beaute of the world thurw

50 the entente of hir creatour and thurw the

distinccioun of hemself, yit, for as mochel

as thei ben put under yowr excellence, thei ne

han nat desserved by no way that ye schulde

merveylen on hem. And the beaute of feeldes,

deliteth it nat mochel unto yow?"

Boece. "Why schulde it nat deliten us, syn

that it is a [fayr] porcioun of the ryght fair

werk (that is to seyn, of this worlde)? And

right so ben we gladed somtyme of the

60 face of the see whan it es cleer; and also

merveylen we on the hevene, and on the

sterres, and on the sonne, and on the moone."

Philosophie. "Aperteneth," quod sche, "any

of thilke thynges to the? Why darstow glorifye

the in the shynynge of any swiche thynges?

Artow distyngwed and embelysed by the

spryngynge floures of the first somer sesoun,

or swelleth thi plente in fruites of somer? Whi

artow ravyssched with idel joies? Why enbracest

70 thow straunge goodes as they weren

thyne? Fortune ne schal nevere maken that

swiche thynges ben thyne that nature of thynges

hath maked foreyne fro the. Soth is that, withouten

doute, the fruites of the erthe owen to

be to the noryssynge of beestis; and yif thow

wilt fulfille thyn nede after that it suffiseth to

nature, thanne is it no nede that thow seke

aftir the superfluyte of fortune. For [with]

fewe thynges and with ful litel thynges nature

80 halt hir apayed; and yif thow wolt

achoken the fulfillynge of nature with superfluytees,

certes thilke thynges that thow

wolt thresten or powren into nature schulle

ben unjoyeful to the, or elles anoyous. Wenestow

eek that it be a fair thyng to schyne with

diverse clothynge? Of whiche clothynge yif the

beaute be aggreable to loken uppon, I wol

merveylen on the nature of the matiere of

thilke clothes, or elles on the werkman that

90 wroughte hem. But also a long route of

meyne, maketh that a blisful man? The

whiche servantz yif thei ben vicyous of condyciouns,

it is a gret charge and a destruccioun

to the hous, and a gret enemy to the lord hymself;

and yif they ben gode men, how schal

straunge or foreyne goodnesse ben put in the

nowmbre of thi richesse? So that by alle thise

forseide thynges it es cleerly schewed, that nevere

oon of thilke thynges that thou acountedest

100 for thyne goodes nas nat thi good.

"In the whiche thynges yif ther be no

beaute to ben desired, why scholdestow ben sory

yif thou leese hem, or whi scholdestow rejoysen

the for to holden hem? For yif thei ben faire

of hir owene kynde, what aperteneth that to

the? For al so wel scholde they han ben fayre

by hemselve, though thei were departed fro

alle thyne rychesses. Forwhy fair ne precyous

were thei nat for that thei comen among

110 thi rychesses; but for they semeden fair

and precyous, therfore thou haddest levere

rekne hem among thi rychesses. But what

desirestow of Fortune with so greet a noyse

and with so greet [affraie]? I trowe thou seeke

to dryve awey nede with habundaunce of

thynges, but certes it turneth to you al in the

contrarie. Forwhy certes it nedeth of ful manye

helpynges to kepyn the diversite of precious

ostelementz; and sooth it es that of many

120 thynges han they nede, that many thynges

han; and ayenward of litel nedeth hem

that mesuren hir fille after the nede of kynde,

and nat after the oultrage of covetyse.

"Is it thanne so, that ye men ne han no propre

good iset in yow, for whiche ye mooten seke

outward your goodes in foreyne and subgit

thynges? So is thanne the condicion of thynges

turned up-so-doun, that a man, that is a devyne

beest be meryte of his resoun, thynketh

130 that hymself nys neyther fair ne noble but

yif it be thurw possessioun of ostelementz

that ne han no soules. And certes alle othere

thynges ben apayed of hir owene beautes, but ye

men that ben semlable to God by yowr

resonable thought, desiren to apparailen your

excellent kynde of the loweste thynges; ne ye

undirstanden nat how greet a wrong ye don to

your creatour. For he wolde that mankynde

were moost wurthy and noble of any

140 othere erthly thynges, and ye thresten

adoun yowre dignytes bynethen the loweste

thynges. For yif that al the good of every

thyng be more precyous than is thilke thyng

whos that the good es, syn ye demen that the

fowleste thynges ben your goodes, thanne

submitten ye and putten yourselven undir the

fouleste thynges by your estimacioun; and certes

this betydeth nat withouten your desert. For

certes swiche is the condicioun of alle mankynde,

150 that oonly whan it hath knowynge

of itself, thanne passeth it in noblesse alle

othere thynges; and whan it forletith the

knowynge of itself, thanne is it brought

bynethen alle beestes. Forwhi alle othere lyvynge

beestes han of kynde to knowe nat hemself;

but whan that men leeten the knowynge

of hemself, it cometh hem of vice. But

how broode scheweth the errour and the folie of

yow men, that wenen that anythyng mai

160 ben apparailed with straunge apparailementz!

But forsothe that mai nat be done.

For yif a wyght schyneth with thynges that

ben put to hym (as thus, yif thilke thynges

schynen with whiche a man is aparayled),

certes thilke thynges ben comended and preysed

with whiche he is apparayled; but natheles, the

thyng that is covered and wrapped under that

duelleth in his felthe.

"And I denye that thilke thyng be good

170 that anoyeth hym that hath it. Gabbe I of

this? Thow wolt sey `nay.' Sertes rychesses

han anoyed ful ofte hem that han tho rychesses,

syn that every wikkide schrewe -- and for his

wikkidnesse the more gredy aftir othir folkes

rychesses, wher so evere it be in ony place, be

it gold or precyous stones -- [weneth. hym

oonly most worthy that hath hem. Thow thanne,

that so bysy dredest now the swerd and the

spere, yif thou haddest entred in the path

180 of this lif a voyde weyfarynge man, thanne

woldestow syngen byfor the theef. (As

who seith, a pore man that bereth no rychesse

on hym by the weie may boldely synge byforn

theves, for he hath nat whereof to be robbed.)

O precyous and ryght cleer is the blisfulnesse of

mortel rychesses, that, whan thow hast geten it,

thanne hastow lorn thi sekernesse!

"Blisful was the firste age of men. They

heelden hem apayed with the metes that the

trewe feeldes broughten forth. They ne destroyeden

ne desseyvede nat hemself with outrage.

They weren wont lyghtly to slaken hir

hungir at even with accornes of ookes. They

ne coude nat medle the yift of Bachus to the

cleer hony (that is to seyn, they coude make

no pyement or clarree), ne they coude nat

10 medle the bryghte fleezes of the contre of

Seryens with the venym of Tyrie (this

to seyn, thei coude nat deyen white fleezes

of Syrien contre with the blood of a maner

schellefyssche that men fynden in Tirie, with

whiche blood men deyen purpre). They

slepen holsome slepes uppon the gras, and

dronken of the rennynge watres, and layen

undir the schadwes of the heye pyn-trees. Ne

no gest ne straunger ne karf yit the heye

20 see with oores or with schipes; ne thei ne

hadden seyn yit none newe stroondes to

leden marchandise into diverse contrees. Tho

weren the cruele claryouns ful hust and ful

stille. Ne blood ischad by egre hate ne hadde

nat deyed yit armures. For wherto or which

woodnesse of enemys wolde first moeven

armes whan thei seyen cruele wowndes, ne

none medes be of blood ischad? I wolde that

our tymes sholde torne ayen to the oolde

30 maneris! But the anguysschous love of

havynge brenneth in folk more cruely than

the fyer of the mountaigne of Ethna that ay

brenneth. Allas! What was he that first dalf

up the gobbettes or the weyghtes of gold covered

undir erthe and the precyous stones that

wolden han be hydd? He dalf up precious

periles. (That is to seyn, that he that hem

firsst up dalf, he dalf up a precious peril;

for-why, for the preciousnesse of swich

40 thyng hath many man ben in peril.)

"But what schal I seye of dignytes and of

powers, the whiche ye men, that neither

knowen verray dignyte ne verray powere,

areysen hem as heyghe as the hevene? The

whiche dignytees and poweres yif thei comen

to any wikkid man, thei doon as greet damages

and destrucciouns as dooth. the flaumbe

of the mountaigne Ethna whan the flaumbe

walweth up, ne no deluge ne doth so cruele

10 harmes. Certes the remembreth wel, as I

trowe, that thilke dignyte that men clepyn

the imperie of consulers, the whiche that

whilom was begynnynge of fredom, yowr eldres

coveyteden to han don awey that dignyte for

the pride of the consulers. And ryght for the

same pride yowr eldres byforn that tyme hadden

doon awey out of the cite of Rome the

kynges name (that is to seyn, thei nolden han

no lengere no kyng).

20 "But now, if so be that dignytees and poweris

ben yyven to gode men, the whiche

thyng is ful zelde, what aggreable thynges is

ther in tho dignytees or powers but oonly the

goodnesse of folk that usen hem? And therfore

it is thus that honour ne cometh nat to

vertu for cause of dygnite, but, ayenward, honour

cometh to dignyte for cause of vertu. But

whiche is thilke your derworthe power that is

so cleer and so requerable? O, ye erthliche

30 bestes, considere ye nat over whiche thyng

that it semeth that ye han power? Now yif

thou saye a mows among othere mysz that chalanged

to hymself-ward ryght and power over

alle othere mysz, how gret scorn woldestow han

of it! (Glosa. So fareth it by men [that the

wikkid men have power over the wikkid men;

that is to seye], the body hath power over the

body.) For yif thou looke wel upon the body of

a wyght, what thyng schaltow fynde more

40 freele than is mankynde; the whiche men

ful ofte ben slayn with bytynge of smale

flyes, or elles with the entrynge of crepynge

wormes into the pryvetees of mannes body?

But wher schal men fynden any man that mai

exercen or haunten any ryght upon another

man, but oonly on his body, or elles upon

thynges that ben lowere than the body, the

whiche I clepe fortunous possessiouns? Maystow

evere have any comaundement over a free

50 corage? Maystowe remuwen fro the estat

of his propre reste a thought that is

clyvynge togidre in hymself by stedfast resoun?

As whilom a tyraunt wende to confownde a fre

man of corage, and wende to constreyne hym by

torment to maken hym discoveren and accusen

folk that wisten of a conjuracioun (which I clepe

a confederacye) that was cast ayens this tyraunt;

but this fre man boot of his owene tonge, and

caste it in the visage of thilk wode tyraunt.

60 So that the tormentz that this tyraunt

wende to han maked matere of cruelte, this

wise man maked it matere of vertu. But what

thing is it that a man may doon to an other man,

that he ne may resceyven the same thyng of

other folk in hymself? (Or thus: what may a

man don to folk, that folk ne may don hym

the same?) I have herd told of Busyrides, that

was wont to sleen his gestes that herberweden

in his hous, and he was slayn hymself of

70 Ercules that was his gest. Regulus hadde

taken in bataile manye men of Affryke

and cast hem into feteres, but sone after he

most yyve hise handes to ben bownde with

the cheynes of hem that he hadde whilom

overcomen. Wenestow thanne that he be

myghty that hath no power to doon a thyng that

othere ne mai doon in hym that he doth in

othere?

"And yit moreover, yif it so were that

80 thise dygnytes or poweris hadden any

propre or naturel goodnesse in hemself,

nevere nolde they comen to schrewes. For

contrarious thynges ne ben nat wont to ben

ifelaschiped togydre. Nature refuseth that contrarious

thynges ben ijoygned. And so, as I am

in certeyn that ryght wykkyd folk han

dignytees ofte tyme, thanne scheweth it wel that

dignytees and poweres ne ben nat gode of

hir owene kynde, syn that they suffren

90 hemselve to cleven or joynen hem to

schrewes. And certes the same thyng mai I

most digneliche juggen and seyn of alle the

yiftes of Fortune that most plentevously comen

to schrewes. Of the whiche yiftes I trowe that it

oughte ben considered, that no man douteth that

he ne is strong in whom he seeth strengthe; and

in whom that swyftnesse is, sooth it is that he

is swyft; also musyke maketh mucisyens, and

phisyk maketh phisicyeens, and rethoryke,

100 rethoriens. Forwhy the nature of every

thyng maketh his proprete, ne it is nat

entremedlyd with the effectz of contrarious

thynges, and as of wil it chaseth out thynges that

to it ben contrarie. But certes rychesse mai nat

restreyne avarice unstaunched; ne power ne

maketh nat a man myghty over hymselve,

whiche that vicyous lustes holden destreyned

with cheynes that ne mowen nat ben

unbownden. And dignytees that ben yyven

110 to schrewide folk nat oonly ne maketh hem

nat digne, but it scheweth rather al opynly

that they been unworthy and undigne. And whi

is it thus? Certes for ye han joie to clepen

thynges with false names, that beren hem al in

the contrarie; the whiche names ben ful [ethe]

reproved by the effect of the same thynges; so

that thise ilke rychesses ne oughten nat by ryghte

to ben cleped rychesses, ne swyche power ne

aughte nat ben clepyd power, ne swiche

120 dignyte ne aughte nat ben clepyd dignyte.

And at the laste, I may conclude the same

thyng of alle the yyftes of Fortune, in whiche

ther nys nothyng to ben desired, ne that hath in

hymselve naturel bownte, as it es ful wel yseene.

For neither thei ne joygnen hem nat alwey to

gode men, ne maken hem alwey gode to whom

they been ijoyned.

"We han wel knowen how many grete harmes

and destrucciouns weren idoon by the emperour

Nero. He leet brennen the cite of Rome,

and made sleen the senatours; and he cruel

whilom sloughe his brothir, and he was maked

moyst with the blood of his modir (that is to

seyn, he leet sleen and slitten the body of his

modir to seen wher he was conceyved); and he

lookede on every halve uppon hir cold

10 deed body, ne no teer ne wette his face,

but he was so hardherted that he myghte

ben domesman or juge of hir dede beaute. And

natheles yit governed this Nero by septre alle

the peples that Phebus, the sonne, may seen,

comynge fro his uttreste arysynge til he hide

his bemes undir the wawes. (That is to seyn

he governede al the peples by ceptre imperial

that the sonne goth aboute from est to west.)

And ek this Nero governyde by ceptre alle

20 the peples that ben undir the colde sterres

that highten the septemtryones. (This is

to seyn he governede alle the peples that ben

under the partye of the north.) And eek Nero

governede alle the peples that the vyolent

wynd Nothus scorklith, and baketh the brennynge

sandes by his drye heete (that is to seyn,

al the peples in the south). But yit ne myghte

nat al his heie power torne the woodnesse of

this wikkid Nero? Allas! It is grevous fortune

30 as ofte as wikkid sweerd is joyned to

cruel venym (that is to seyn, venymows

cruelte to lordschipe)."

Thanne seyde I thus: "Thow woost wel thiselve

that the covetise of mortel thynges ne

hadde nevere lordschipe of me, but I have wel

desired matere of thynges to done (as who

seith, I desirede to have matiere of governaunce

over comunalites), for vertue stille sholde nat

elden (that is to seyn, that list that or he

waxe oold, his vertu, that lay now ful stille, ne

schulde nat perysshe unexercised in

10 governaunce of comune, for whiche men

myghten speken or wryten of his gode

governement)."

Philosophie. "For sothe," quod sche, "and

that is [o] thyng that mai drawen to governaunce

swiche hertes as ben worthy and noble of hir

nature, but natheles it may nat drawen or tollen

swiche hertes as ben ibrought to the ful perfeccioun

of vertue; that is to seyn, covetise of

glorie and renoun to han wel adminystred

20 the comune thynges, or doon gode desertes

to profyt of the comune. For see now

and considere how litel and how voyde of alle

prys is thylk glorye. Certeyn thyng es, as thou

hast leerned by the demonstracioun of astronomye,

that al the envyrounynge of the erthe

aboute ne halt but the resoun of a prykke at

regard of the gretnesse of hevene; that is to

seyn that, yif ther were maked comparysoun of

the erthe to the gretnesse of hevene, men

30 wolde juggen in al that the erthe ne heelde

no space. Of the whiche litel regioun of

this world, the ferthe partye is enhabited with

lyvynge beestes that we knowen, as thou hast

thyselve leerned by Tholome that proveth it.

And yif thow haddest withdrawen and abated

in thy thought fro thilke ferthe partie as moche

space as the see and the mareys contene and

overgoon, and as moche space as the regioun

of drowghte overstreccheth (that is to

40 seyn, sandes and desertes), wel unnethe

sholde ther duellen a ryght streyte place to the

habitacioun of men. And ye thanne, that ben

envyrouned and closed withynne the leeste

prykke of thilke prykke, thynken ye to manyfesten

or publisschen your renoun and doon

yowr name for to be born forth? But yowr

glorye that is so narwe and so streyt ithrungen

into so litel bowndes, how mochel conteneth it

in largesse and in greet doynge? And also

50 set this therto: that manye a nacioun, diverse

of tonge and of maneris and ek of resoun

of hir lyvynge, ben enhabited in the cloos

of thilke lytel habitacle; to the whiche nacyons,

what for difficulte of weyes, and what for diversite

of langages, and what for defaute of

unusage [of] entrecomunynge of marchandise,

nat oonly the names of synguler men ne may

nat strecchen, but eek the fame of citees ne

may nat strecchen. At the laste, certes, in

60 the tyme of Marcus Tulyus, as hymselve

writ in his book, that the renoun of the

comune of Rome ne hadde nat yit passid ne

clomben over the montaigne that highte Caucasus;

and yit was thilke tyme Rome wel waxen,

and greetly redouted of the Parthes and eek of

the othere folk enhabitynge aboute. Seestow

nat thanne how streyte and how compressid is

thilke glorie that ye travailen aboute to schewe

and to multeplye? May thanne the glorie

70 of a synguler Romeyn strecchen thider

as the fame of the name of Rome may nat

clymben ne passen? And ek seestow nat that the

maneris of diverse folk and ek hir lawes ben

discordaunt among hemselve, so that thilke

thyng that som men juggen worthy of preysynge,

other folk juggen that it is worthy of torment?

And therof comyth it that, though a

man delyte hym in preysynge of his renoun, he

ne mai nat in no wyse bryngen forthe ne

80 spreden his name to many manere peples.

And therfore every maner man aughte to

ben apayed of his glorie that is publysschid among

his owene neyghebours; and thilke noble renoun

schal ben restreyned withynne the boundes of

o manere folk.

"But how many a man, that was ful noble in

his tyme, hath the wrecchid and nedy foryetynge

of writeris put out of mynde and doon awey; al

be it so that, certes, thilke wrytynges

90 profiten litel, the whiche writynges long

and dirk eelde doth awey, bothe hem and

ek hir auctours! But yow men semeth to geten

yow a perdurablete, whan ye thynken that in

tyme comynge your fame schal lasten. But

natheles yif thow wolt maken comparysoun to

the endles spaces of eternyte, what thyng hastow

by whiche thow mayst rejoisen the of long

lastynge of thi name? For yif ther were makyd

comparysoun of the abydynge of a moment

100 to ten thowsand wynter, for as mochel as

bothe tho spaces ben endyd, [yit] hath the

moment som porcioun of it, although it litel be.

But natheles thilke selve nowmbre of yeeris, and

eek as many yeris as therto mai be multiplyed, ne

mai nat certes be comparysoned to the

perdurablete that is endlees; for of thinges that

han ende may ben maked comparysoun, but of

thynges that ben withouten ende to thynges that

han ende may be makid no comparysoun.

110 And forthi is it that, although renome, of as

longe tyme as evere the list to thynken,

were thought to the regard of eternyte, that is

unstaunchable and infynyt, it ne sholde nat only

semen litel, but pleynliche ryght noght.

"But ye men, certes, ne konne doon no thyng

aryght, but yif it be for the audience of peple and

for idel rumours; and ye forsaken the grete

worthynesse of conscience and of vertu, and ye

seeken yowr gerdouns of the smale wordes

120 of straunge folk. Have now here and

undirstand, in the lyghtnesse of swiche

pryde and veyne glorye, how a man scornede

festyvaly and myriely swich vanyte. Whilom ther

was a man that hadde [assaillede] with stryvynge

wordes another man, the whiche, nat for usage

of verray vertu but for proud veyn glorie, had

taken upon hym falsly the name of a philosophre.

This rather man that I spak of thoughte

he wolde assaie where he, thilke, were a

130 philosophre or no; that is to seyn, yif that

he wolde han suffride lyghtly in pacience

the wronges that weren doon unto hym. This

feynede philosophre took pacience a litel while;

and whan he hadde resceyved wordes of

outrage, he, as in stryvynge ayen and rejoysynge

of hymself, seide at the laste ryght thus: `undirstondistow

nat that I am a philosophre?' The

tother man answerede ayen ful bytyngely and

seyde: `I hadde wel undirstonden it yif thou

140 haddest holde thi tonge stille.'

"But what is it to thise noble worthy men

(for, certes, of swych folk speke I) that seken

glorie with vertue? What is it?" quod sche.

"What atteyneth fame to swiche folk, whan the

body is resolved by the deeth at the laste? For if

it so be that men dyen in all (that is to seyen,

body and soule), the whiche thing our reson

defendeth us to byleeven, thanne is ther no

glorie in no wyse; for what schulde thilke

150 glorie ben, whan he, of whom thilke glorie

is seyd to be, nys ryght naught in no wise?

And yif the soule, whiche that hath in itself

science of gode werkes, unbownden fro the

prysone of the erthe, weendeth frely to the

hevene, despiseth it nat thanne al erthly

ocupacioun; and [usynge] hevene rejoyseth that

it is exempt fro alle erthly thynges? (As who

seith, thanne rekketh the soule of no glorye of

renoun of this world.)

"Whoso that with overthrowynge thought

oonly seketh glorie of fame, and weneth that

it be sovereyn good, lat hym looke upon the

brode schewynge contrees of the hevene, and

upon the streyte sete of this erthe; and he schal

be asschamed of the encres of his name, that

mai nat fulfille the litel compas of the erthe.

O, what coveyten proude folk to lyften up hir

nekkes on idel in the dedly yok of this

10 world? For although that renoun ysprad,

passynge to ferne peples, goth by diverse

tonges; and although that greet houses or

kynredes shynen with cleer titles of honours;

yit natheles deth despiseth al heye glorie of

fame, and deth wrappeth togidre the heyghe

heved and the lowe, and maketh egal and

evene the heygheste to the loweste. Where

wonen now the bones of trewe Fabricius?

What is now Brutus or stierne Catoun? The

20 thynne fame yit lastynge of here idel names

is marked with a fewe lettres. But althoughe

that we han knowen the fayre wordes

of the fames of hem, it is nat yyven to knowen

hem that ben dede and consumpt. Liggeth

thanne stille, al outrely unknowable, ne fame

ne maketh yow nat knowe. And yif ye wene to

lyve the lengere for wynd of yowr mortel name

whan o cruel day schal ravyssche yow, than is

the seconde deth duellynge unto yow."

30 (Glose. The first deeth he clepeth here departynge

of the body and the soule, and

the seconde deth he clepeth as here the styntynge

of the renoun of fame.)

"But for as mochel as thow schalt nat

wenen," quod sche, "that I bere an untretable

batayle ayens Fortune, yit somtyme it byfalleth

that sche desceyvable desserveth to han ryght

good thank of men. And that is whan sche hirself

opneth, and whan sche discovereth hir

frownt and scheweth hir maneris. Peraventure

yit undirstandestow nat that I schal seie. It is

a wonder that I desire to telle, and forthi

10 unnethe may I unplyten my sentence with

wordes. For I deme that contrarious Fortune

profiteth more to men than Fortune debonayre.

For alwey, whan Fortune semeth debonayre,

thanne sche lieth, falsly byhetynge the

hope of welefulnesse; but forsothe contraryous

Fortune is alwey sothfast, whan sche scheweth

hirself unstable thurw hir chaungynge. The

amyable Fortune desceyveth folk; the contrarie

Fortune techeth. The amyable Fortune

20 byndeth with the beaute of false goodes

the hertes of folk that usen hem: the contrarye

Fortune unbyndeth hem by the knowynge

of freel welefulnesse. The amyable Fortune

maystow seen alwey wyndy and flowynge,

and evere mysknowynge of hirself; the contrarie

Fortune is atempre and restreyned and

wys thurw exercise of hir adversite. At the

laste, amyable Fortune with hir flaterynges

draweth myswandrynge men fro the sovereyne

30 good; the contrarious Fortune ledeth

ofte folk ayen to sothfast goodes, and

haleth hem ayen as with an hook. Wenestow

thanne that thow augghtest to leeten this a litel

thyng, that this aspre and horrible Fortune

hath discovered to the the thoughtes of thi

trewe freendes? Forwhy this ilke Fortune hath

departed and uncovered to the bothe the certein

visages and eek the doutous visages of thi

felawes. Whan she departed awey fro the,

40 she took awey hir freendes and lefte the

thyne freendes. Now whanne thow were

ryche and weleful, as the semede, with how

mochel woldestow han bought the fulle knowynge

of thys (that is to seyn, the knowynge of

thyne verray freendes)? Now pleyne the nat

thanne of rychesse ylorn, syn thow hast

fownden the moste precyous kynde of rychesses,

that is to seyn, thi verray freendes.

"That the world with stable feyth varieth

accordable chaungynges; that the contrarious

qualites of elementz holden among hemself

allyaunce perdurable; that Phebus, the sonne,

with his goldene chariet bryngeth forth the

rosene day; that the moone hath comaundement

over the nyghtes, whiche nyghtes Esperus,

the eve-sterre, hath brought; that the

see, gredy to flowen, constreyneth with a

10 certein eende his floodes, so that it is nat

leveful to strecche his brode termes or

bowndes uppon the erthes (that is to seyn, to

coveren al the erthe) -- al this accordaunce

[and] ordenaunce of thynges is bounde with

love, that governeth erthe and see, and hath also

comandement to the hevene. And yif this love

slakede the bridelis, alle thynges that now loven

hem togidres wolden make batayle contynuely,

and stryven to fordo the fassoun of this

20 world, the which they now leden in

accordable feith by fayre moevynges. This

love halt togidres peples joyned with an holy

boond, and knytteth sacrement of mariages of

chaste loves; and love enditeth lawes to trewe

felawes. O weleful were mankynde, yif thilke

love that governeth hevene governede yowr

corages."

BOOK 3

By this sche hadde ended hir song, whan the

swetnesse of here dite hadde thurw-perced me,

that was desyrous of herknynge, and I astoned

hadde yit streyghte myn eres (that is to seyn, to

herkne the bet what sche wolde seye). So that

a litel herafter I seide thus: "O thow that art

sovereyne confort of angwyssous corages, so

thow hast remounted and norysshed me with

the weyghte of thi sentences and with delyt

10 of thy syngynge; so that I trowe nat

nowe that I be unparygal to the strokes of

Fortune (as who seith, I dar wel now suffren

alle the assautes of Fortune and wel defende

me fro hir). And tho remedies whiche that

thou seydest herbyforn that weren ryght

scharpe, nat oonly that I ne am nat agrisen of

hem now, but I, desiros of herynge, axe gretly

to heren tho remedies."

Thanne seyde sche thus: "That feeled I

20 ful wel," quod sche, "whan that thow ententyf

and stille ravysschedest my wordes,

and I abood til that thou haddest swich habite

of thi thought as thou hast now, or elles til that

I myself hadde maked to the the same habite,

whiche that is a more verray thyng. And certes

the remenant of thynges that ben yet to seie

ben swiche that first whan men tasten hem they

ben bytynge; but whan they ben resceyved

withynne a wyght, thanne ben thei swete.

30 But for thou seyst that thow art so desyrous

to herkne hem, with how greet brennynge

woldestow glowen, yif thow wistest whider I

wol leden the!"

"Whider is that?" quod I.

"To thilke verraye welefulnesse," quod sche,

"of whiche thyn herte dremeth. but forasmoche

as thi syghte is ocupyed and destourbed by

imagynacioun of erthly thynges, thow mayst

nat yit seen thilke selve welefulnesse."

40 "Do," quod I, "and schewe me what is

thilke verray welefulnesse, I preie the,

withoute taryinge."

"That wol I gladly do," quod sche, "for the

cause of the. But I wol first marken the by

woordes, and I wol enforcen me to enforme the,

thilke false cause of blisfulnesse that thou more

knowest; so that whanne thow hast fully byhoolden

thilke false goodes and torned thin

eighen to the tother syde, thow mowe

50 knowe the cleernesse of verray blisfulnesse.

"Whoso wole sowe a feld plentevous, let hym

first delyvren it of thornes, and kerve asondir

with his hook the bussches and the feern, so

that the corn may comen hevy of erys and of

greynes. Hony is the more swete, if mouthes

han first tasted savours that ben wykke. The

sterres schynen more aggreablely whan the

wynd Nothus leteth his plowngy blastes; and

aftir that Lucifer, the day-sterre, hath

10 chased awey the dirke nyght, the day the

fairere ledeth the rosene hors (of the

sonne). And ryght so thow, byhooldyng ferst the

false goodes, bygyn to withdrawe thy nekke

fro the yok (of erthely affeccions); and

afterward the verray goodes schullen entren into

thy corage."

Tho fastnede sche a litel the syghte of hir

eyen, and withdrowghe hir ryght as it were into

the streyte seete of here thought, and bygan to

speke ryght thus: "Alle the cures," quod sche,

"of mortel folk, whiche that travailen hem in

many manere studies, gon certes by diverse

weyes; but natheles thei enforcen hem alle to

comyn oonly to oon ende of blisfulnesse. And

blisfulnesse is swiche a good, that whoso

10 that hath geten it, he ne may over that

nothyng more desire. And this thyng forsothe

is the soverayn good that conteneth in

hymself alle maner goodes; to the whiche goode

if ther fayled any thyng, it myghte nat ben

sovereyn good, for thanne wer ther som good

out of thilke sovereyn good, that myghte ben

desired. Now is it cleer and certeyne thanne,

that blisfulnesse is a parfyt estat by the congregacioun

of alle goodes; the whiche blisfulnesse,

20 as I have seyd, alle mortel folk enforcen

hem to geten by diverse weyes.

Forwhy the covetise of verray good is naturely

iplauntyd in the hertes of men, but the myswandrynge

errour mysledeth hem into false

goodes. Of the whiche men, some of hem

wenen that sovereyn good be to lyven withoute

nede of any thyng, and travaylen hem to ben

habundaunt of rychesses. And some othere

men demen that sovereyn good be for to be

30 ryght digne of reverence, and enforcen

hem to ben reverenced among hir neyghbours

by the honours that thei han igeten. And

some folk ther ben that holden that ryght heye

power be sovereyn good, and enforcen hem for

to reignen or elles to joygnen hem to hem that

reignen. And it semeth to some other folk, that

noblesse of renoun be the sovereyn good, and

hasten hem to geten hem gloryouse name by the

artz of werre or of pees. And many folk

40 mesuren and gessen that the sovereyne

good be joye and gladnesse, and wenen

that it be ryght blisful thyng to plowngen hem

in voluptuous delyt. And ther ben folk that

entrechaungen the causes and the endes of

thyse forseyde goodes, as they that desiren

rychesses to han power and delitz, or elles they

desiren power for to have moneye or for cause

of renoun. In thise thynges and in swiche other

thynges is torned al the entencioun of desyrynges

50 and werkes of men; as thus:

noblesse and favour of peple, whiche that

yyveth to men, as it semeth hem, a maner

cleernesse of renoun; and wyf and children,

that men desiren for cause of delyt and myrynesse.

But forsothe freendes ne schulde nat ben

rekned among the goodes of fortune, but of

vertu, for it is a ful hooly maner thyng; alle

thise othere thinges forsothe ben taken for

cause of power or elles for cause of delyt.

60 Certes now am I redy to referren the

goodes of the body to thise forseide thynges

aboven; for it semeth that strengthe and gretnesse

of body yyven power and worthynesse,

and that beaute and swyftnesse yyven noblesse

and glorie of renoun; and heele of body semeth

yyven delyt. In alle thise thynges it semeth

oonly that blisfulnesse is desyred; forwhy thilk

thing that every man desireth moost over alle

thynges he demeth that it be the sovereyn

70 good; but I have diffyned that blisfulnesse

is the sovereyn good; for whiche every

wyght demeth that thilke estat that he desireth

over alle thynges, that it be blisfulnesse.

"Now hastow thanne byforn thyne eien almest

al the purposede forme of the welefulnesse

of mankynde: that is to seyn rychesses,

honours, power, glorie, and delitz. The whiche

delit oonly considered Epicurus, and juggid

and establissyde that delyt is the soverayn

80 good, for as moche as alle othere thynges,

as hym thoughte, byrefte awey joye and

myrthe from the herte. But I retorne ayen to

the studies of men, of whiche men the corage

alwey reherceth and seketh the sovereyne good,

al be it so that it be with a dyrkyd memorie;

but he not by whiche path, ryght as a dronke

man not nat by whiche path he may retourne

hom to his hous. Semeth it thanne that folk

foleyen and erren, that enforcen hem to

90 have nede of nothyng? Certes ther nys

noon other thyng that mai so wel performe

blisfulnesse, as an estat plentevous of alle godes,

that ne hath nede of noon other thyng, but

that it is suffisant of hymself unto hymself.

And foleyen swiche folk, thanne, that wenen

that thilk thyng that is ryght good, that it be

eek ryght worthy of honour and of reverence?

Certes, nay. For that thyng nis neither foul ne

worthy to ben despysed that wel neyghe al

100 the entencioun of mortel folk [travayleth.

for to geten it. And power, aughte nat that

ek to ben rekned amonge goodes? What elles?

For it nys nat to wene that thilke thyng that is

most worthy of alle thynges be feble and

withoute strengthe. And cleernesse of renoun,

aughte that to ben despysed? Certes ther may no

man forsake, that alle thyng that is right

excellent and noble, that it ne semeth to ben

ryght cleer and renomed. For certes it

110 nedeth nat to saie that blisfulnesse be

[n'] [angwyssous] ne drery, ne subgit to

grevaunces ne to sorwes; syn that in ryght litele

thynges folk seken to haven and to usen that may

delyten hem. Certes thise ben the thinges that

men wolen and desiren to geten, and for this

cause desiren they rychesses, dignytes, reignes,

glorie, and delices; for therby wenen they to

han suffysaunce, honour, power, renoun, and

gladnesse. Thanne is it good that men

120 seken thus, by so manye diverse studies; in

whiche desir it mai lyghtly be schewyd how

greet is the strengthe of nature. For how so that

men han diverse sentences and discordynge,

algates men accorden alle in lovynge the eende

of good.

"It liketh me to schewe by subtil soong, with

slakke and delytable sown of strenges, how

that Nature, myghty, enclyneth and flytteth the

governementz of thynges, and by whiche lawes

sche, purveiable, kepith the grete world; and

how sche, byndynge, restreyneth alle thynges

by a boond that may nat be unbownde. Al be

it so that the lyouns of the contre of Pene beren

the fayre chaynes, and taken metes of the

10 handes of folk that yeven it hem, and

dreden hir stourdy [maistre] of whiche thei

ben wont to suffre betynges; yif that hir horrible

mouthes ben bybled (that is to seyn, of

beestes devoured), hir corage of tyme passed,

that hath ben idel and rested, repeireth ayen,

and thei roren grevously, and remembren on

hir nature, and slaken hir nekkes from hir

cheynes unbownde; and hir mayster fyrst,

totorn with blody tooth, assaieth the wode

20 wratthes of hem (this to seyn, thei freten

hir maister). And the janglynge brid that

syngeth on the heghe braunches (that is to

seyn, in the wode), and after is enclosed in a

streyte cage, althoughe that the pleyinge bysynes

of men yeveth [hym] honyed drynkes and large

metes with swete studye, yit natheles yif thilke

bryd skippynge out of hir streyte cage seith the

agreables schadwes of the wodes, sche defouleth

with hir feet hir metes ischad, and seketh

30 mornynge oonly the wode, and twytereth

desyrynge the wode with hir swete voys.

The yerde of a tree, that is haled adoun by

myghty strengthe, boweth redily the crop

adown; but yif that the hand of hym that it bente

leet it goon ageyn, anoon the crop loketh upryght

to hevene. The sonne, Phebus, that falleth

at even in the westrene wawes, retorneth

ayen eftsones his cart, by a pryve path, there

as it is wont t' aryse. Alle thynges seken

40 ayen to hir propre cours, and alle thynges

rejoysen hem of hir retornynge ayen to

hir nature. Ne noon ordenaunce is bytaken to

thynges, but that that hath joyned the endynge

to the bygynnynge, and hath maked the cours

of itself stable (that it chaunge nat from his

propre kynde).

"Certes also ye men, that ben erthliche

beestes, dremen alwey your bygynnynge, althoughe

it be with a thynne ymaginacioun; and

by a maner thought, al be it nat clerly ne parfitely,

ye loken from afer to thilke verray fyn of

blisfulnesse. And therfore naturel entencioun

ledeth yow to thilke verray good, but many

maner errours mystorneth yow therfro. Considere

now yif that by thilke thynges by

10 whiche a man weneth to geten hym blisfulnesse,

yif that he mai comen to thilk ende

that he weneth to come by nature. For yif that

moneye, or honours, or thise othere forseyde

thynges, brynge to men swiche a thyng that no

good ne fayle hem ne semeth faile, certes

thanne wol I graunte that they ben maked blisful

by thilke thynges that thei han geten. But

yif so be that thilke thynges ne mowen nat performen

that they byheten, and that there

20 be defaute of manye goodis, scheweth it

nat thanne clerly that false beute of blysfulnesse

is knowen and ataynt in thilke thynges?

First and forward thow thiself, that haddest

haboundances of rychesses nat longe agoon, I

aske the yif that, in the habowndance of alle

thilke rychesses, thow were nevere angwysous

ne sory in thy corage of any wrong or grevance

that bytydde the on any side?"

"Certes," quod I, "it ne remembreth me

30 nat that evere I was so fre of my thought

that I ne was alwey in angwyse of somwhat."

"And was nat that," quod sche, "for that the

lakkide somwhat that thow noldest nat han

lakkid, or elles thou haddest that thow noldest

nat han had?"

"Ryght so is it," quod I.

"Than desiredest thow the presence of the

toon and the absence of the tothir?"

40 "I graunte wel," quod I.

"Forsothe," quod sche, "thanne nedeth

ther somwhat that every man desireth?"

"Yee, ther nedeth," quod I.

"Certes," quod sche, "and he that hath lak or

nede of aught nys nat in every wey suffisant to

hymself?"

"No," quod I.

"And thow," quod sche, "in al the plente of

thy richesses haddest thilke lakke of suffisaunce?"

"What elles?" quod I.

"Thanne mai nat richesses maken that a man

nys nedy, ne that he be suffisaunt to hymself;

and yit that was it that thei byhighten, as it

semeth. And eek certes I trow that this be

gretly to considere, that moneye ne hath nat in

his owene kynde that it ne mai ben bynomen

of hem that han it, maugre hem."

"I byknowe it wel," quod I.

60 "Whi sholdestow nat byknowen it,"

quod sche, "whan every day the strengere

folk bynymen it fro the feblere maugre hem?

For whennes comen elles alle thise [forense]

compleyntes or quereles of pledynges but

for that men axen ayen hir moneye that hath

ben bynomen hem by force or by gyle, and

alwey maugre hem?"

"Right so is it," quod I.

"Than," quod sche, "hath a man nede to

70 seken hym foreyne help by whiche he may

defenden his moneye?"

"Who mai seie nay?" quod I.

"Certes," quod sche, "and hym nedide noon

help yif he ne hadde no moneye that he myghte

leese."

"That is douteles," quod I.

"Than is this thyng torned into the contrarie,"

quod sche; "for rychesses, that men

wenen scholde maken suffisaunce, they

80 maken a man rather have nede of foreyne

help. Whiche is the maner or the gyse,"

quod sche, "that rychesse mai dryve awey

nede? Riche folk, mai they neyther han hungir

ne thurst? Thise riche men, may they fele no

cold on hir lymes in wynter? But thow wolt

answeren that ryche men han inoghe wherwith

thei mai staunchen hir hungir, and slaken hir

thurst, and don awey cold. In this wise mai

nede be conforted by richesses, but certes

90 nede ne mai nat al outrely be doon awey;

for thoughe this nede that is alwey gapynge

and gredy, be fulfild with richesses, and axe any

thyng, yit duelleth thanne a nede that myghte be

fulfild. I holde me stille and telle nat how that

litel thyng suffiseth to nature; but certes to

avarice inowghe ne suffiseth nothyng. For syn

that rychesse ne mai nat al doon awey nede, but

richesses maken nede, what mai it thanne be that

ye wenen that richesses mowen yyven yow

100 suffisaunce?

"Al weere it so that a riche coveytous man

hadde a ryver or a goter fletynge al of gold, yit

sholde it nevere staunchen his covetise; and

thoughe he hadde his nekke charged with precyous

stones of the Rede See, and thoughe he

do ere his feeldes plentevous with an hundred

oxen, nevere ne schal his bytynge bysynesse

forleeten hym whil he lyveth, ne the lyghte

richesses ne schal nat beren hym companye

10 whan he is deed.

"But dignytees, to whom thei ben comen,

make they hym honourable and reverent? Han

thei nat so gret strengthe that thei mai putten

vertus in the hertes of folk that usen the lordschipes

of hem, or elles may they don awey the

vices? Certes thei ben nat wont to don awey

wikkidnesse, but thei ben wont rather to

schewen wykkydnesse. And therof cometh it

that Y have right gret disdayn that dignytes

10 ben yyven ofte to wikkide men. For

which thyng Catullus clepid a consul of

Rome that hyghte Nonyus `postum' or `boch'

(as who seith, he clepid hym a congregacioun

of vices in his brest, as a postum is ful of corrupcioun),

al were this Nonyus set in chayere

of dygnite. Sestow nat thanne how grete

vylenye dignytes don to wikkide men? Certes

unworthynesse of wikkide men schulde ben the

lesse isene if thei neere renomed of none

20 honours. Certes thou thiself ne myghtest

nat ben broght, with as many perils as

thow myghtest suffren, that thow woldest beren

the magistrat with Decorat (that is to seyn,

that for no peril that myghte byfallen the by

offence of the kyng Theodorik, thou noldest nat

be felawe in governaunce with Decorat), whan

thow seye that he hadde wikkide corage of a

likerous schrewe and of an accusour. Ne I ne

mai nat for swiche honours juggen hem

30 worthy of reverence that I deme and holde

unworthy to han thilke same honours.

Now yif thow seie a man that were fulfild of

wysdom, certes thou ne myghtest nat deme

that he were unworthy to the honour or elles

to the wisdom of whiche he is fulfild?"

"No," quod I.

"Certes dignytees," quod sche, "aperteignen

properly to vertu, and vertu transporteth dignyte

anoon to thilke man to whiche sche

40 hirself is conjoigned. And for as moche as

honours of peple ne mai nat maken folk

digne of honour, it is wel seyn cleerly that thei

ne han no propre beaute of dignyte. And yet

men aughten taken more heede in this. For yif

a wykkyd wyght be in so mochel the fowlere

and the more outcast that he is despysed of

moost folk, so as dignyte ne mai nat maken

schrewes worthy of no reverence, the whiche

schrewes dignyte scheweth to moche folk;

50 than maketh dignyte schrewes rather so

much more despised than preysed, and

forsothe nat unpunyssched (that is for to seyn

that schrewes revengen hem ayenward uppon

dignytes), for thei yelden ayen to dignytees

as greet gerdoun, whan they byspotten and

defoulen dignytes with hir vylenye. And for as

mochel as thou now knowe that thilke verray

reverence ne mai nat comen by thise schadwy

transitorie dignytes, undirstond now thus:

60 yif that a man hadde used and had manye

maner dignytees of consules, and weere

comen peraventure among straunge nacions,

scholde thilke honour maken hym worschipful

and redouted of straunge folk? Certes yif

that honour of peple were a natureel yifte to

dignytes, it ne myghte nevere cesen nowhere

amonges no maner folk to don his office; right

as fyer in every contre ne stynteth nat to

eschaufen and to ben hoot. But for as

70 mochel as for to be holden honurable or

reverent ne cometh nat to folk of hir

propre strengthe of nature, but oonly of the false

opynyoun of folk (that is to seyn, that weenen

that dignytees maken folk digne of honour),

anoon therfore, whan that thei comen there as

folk ne knowen nat thilke dignytees, hir honours

vanysschen away, and that anoon. But that is

amonges straunge folk, maystow seyn. Ne

amonges hem ther thei weren born, ne

80 duren nat thilke dignytes alwey? Certes the

dignyte of the provostrye of Rome was

whilom a greet power; now nys it no thyng but

an idel name, and the rente of the senatorie a

greet charge; and yif a wyght whilom hadde the

office to taken heede to the vitayles of the peple,

as of corn and othere thynges, he was holden

amonges grete; but what thyng is now more

outcast than thilke provostrye? And, as I have

seyd a litel herebyforn, that thilke thyng

90 that hath no propre beute of hymself

resceyveth somtyme prys and schynynge,

and somtyme leeseth it, by the opinyoun of

usaunces. Now yif that dignytes thanne ne

mowen nat make folk digne of reverence, and if

that dignytees waxen foule of hir wil by the

filthe of schrewes, and yif dignytees leesen hir

schynynge by chaungynge of tymes, and yif thei

waxen fowle by estimacion of peple, what is it

that they han in hemself of beaute that

100 oughte ben desired? (As who seith noon;

thanne ne mowen they yeven no beute of

dignyte to noone othere.)

"Al be it so that the proude Nero, with al his

wode luxure, kembde hym and apparayled

hym with faire purpres of Tyrie and with white

peerles, algates yit throf he haatful to alle folk

(this is to seyn that, al was he byhated of alle

folk, yit this wikkide Nero hadde gret lordschipe),

and yaf whilom to the reverentz senatours

the unworschipful seetis of dignytees.

(Unworschipful seetes he clepeth here, for that

10 Nero, that was so wikkide, yaf tho dignytees.)

Who wolde thanne resonably

wenen that blisfulnesse were in swiche honours

as ben yyven by vycious schrewes?

"But regnes, and familiarites of kynges, mai

thei maken a man to ben myghti? How elles,

whan hir blisfulnesse dureth perpetuely? But

certes the olde age of tyme passed, and ek the

present tyme now, is ful of ensaumples how

that kynges han chaungyd into wrecchidnesse

out of hir welefulnesse. O, a noble thyng and

a cleer thyng is power, that is nat fownden

myghty to kepe itself! And yif that power

10 of remes be auctour and makere of blisfulnesse,

yif thilke power lakketh on any syde,

amenuseth it nat thilke blisfulnesse and bryngeth

in wrecchidnesse? But yit, al be it so that

the remes of mankynde strecchen broode, yit

moot ther nede ben moche folk over whiche

that every kyng ne hath no lordschipe ne

comaundement. And certes uppon thilke syde

that power fayleth, whiche that maketh folk blisful,

ryght on that same syde noun-power

20 entreth undirnethe, that maketh hem

wrecches. In this manere thanne moten

kynges han more porcioun of wrecchidnesse

than of welefulnesse. A tyraunt, that was kyng

of Sysile, that hadde assayed the peril of his

estat, schewede by simylitude the dredes of

remes by gastnesse of a swerd that heng over

the heved of his familyer. What thyng is

thanne this power, that mai nat done awey the

bytynges of bysynesse, ne eschewe the

30 prykkes of drede? And certes yit wolde

thei lyven in sykernesse, but thei may nat,

and yit they glorifien hem in hir power. Holdestow

thanne that thilke man be mighty, that

thow seest that he wolde doon that he may nat

done? And holdestow thanne hym a myghti

man, that hath envyrowned his sydes with men

of armes or sergeantz, and dredeth more hem

that he maketh agast thanne thei dreden hym,

and that is put in the handes of hise servauntz

40 for he scholde seme myghty? But of

familiers or servantz of kynges, what

scholde I telle the any thyng, syn that I myself

have schewyd the that rewmes hemself ben

ful of greet feblesse? The whiche famylieres,

certes, the real power of kynges, in hool estat

and in estaat abated, ful ofte throweth adoun.

Nero constreynede Senek, his familyer and his

mayster, to chesen on what deeth he wolde

deye. Antonyus comaundede that knyghtes

50 slowen with here swerdes Papynian (his

famylier) [whiche] that had ben long

tyme ful myghty amonges hem of the court.

And yet certes thei wolden bothe han renounced

hir power; of whiche two Senek enforcede

hym to yeven to Nero his richesses, and

also to han gon into solitarie exil. But whan the

grete weyghte (that is to seyn, of lordes power

or of fortune) draweth hem that schullen falle,

neither of hem ne myghte don that he

60 wolde. What thyng is thanne thilke powere,

that though men han it, yit thei ben agast;

and whanne thow woldest han it, thou nart nat

siker; and yif thou woldest forleeten it, thow

mayst nat eschuen it? But whethir swiche men

ben freendes at nede, as ben [consyled] by fortune

and nat be vertu? Certes swiche folk as

weleful fortune maketh frendes, contraryous

fortune maketh hem enemys. And what pestilence

is more myghty for to anoye a wyght

70 than a famylier enemy?

"Whoso wol ben myghti he moot daunten his

cruel corages, ne putte nat his nekke, overcomen,

undir the foule reynes of leccherie. For

al be it so that thi lordschipe strecche so fer

that the contre of Ynde quaketh at thy comaundementz

or at thi lawes, and that the laste

ile in the see that highte Tyle be thral to the,

yit yif thou maist nat putten awey thi foule

dirke desires, and dryven out fro the

10 wrecchide compleyntes, certes it nys no

power that thow hast.

"But glorie, how deceyvable and how foul is

it ofte! For which thyng nat unskilfully a tragedien

(that is to seyn, a makere of dytees that

highten tragedies) cride and seide: `O glorie,

glorie,' quod he, `thow nart nothyng elles to

thousandes of folk but a greet swellere of eres!'

For manye han had ful greet renoun by the

false opinyoun of the peple, and what thyng

mai ben thought foulere than swiche preysynge?

10 For thilke folk that ben preysed

falsly, they mote nedes han schame of hire

preysynges. And yif that folk han geten hem

thonk or preysynge by here dissertes, what

thyng hath thilke pris echid or encresed to the

conscience of wise folk, that mesuren hir good,

nat by the rumour of the peple, but by the

sothfastnesse of conscience? And yif it seme a

fair thyng a man to han encreced and sprad his

name, thanne folweth it that it is demed to

20 ben a foul thyng yif it ne be yspradde and

encreced. But, as I seide a litil herebyforn,

that syn ther moot nedes ben many folk to

whiche folk the renoun of [o] man ne mai nat

comen, it byfalleth that he that thow wenest be

glorious and renomed semeth in the nexte

partie of the erthes to ben withouten glorie and

withouten renoun. And certes amonges thise

thynges I ne trowe nat that the pris and the

grace of the peple nys neyther worthi to

30 ben remembred, ne cometh of wys jugement,

ne is ferme perdurably.

"But now of this name of gentilesse, what

man is it that ne may wele seen how veyn and

how flyttynge a thyng it es? For yif the name

of gentilesse be referred to renoun and cleernesse

of lynage, thanne is gentil name but a

foreyne thyng (that is to seyn, to hem that gloryfien

hem of hir lynage.) For it semeth that

gentilesse be a maner preisynge that cometh

40 of the dessertes of auncestres; and yif

preisynge make gentilesse, thanne mote

they nedes ben gentil that been preysed. For

whiche thing it folweth that yif thou ne have no

gentilesse of thiself (that is to seyn, prys that

cometh of thy deserte), foreyne gentilesse ne

maketh the nat gentil. But certes yif ther be

ony good in gentilesse, I trowe it be al only

this, that it semeth as that a maner necessite

be imposed to gentil men for that thei ne

50 schulde nat owtrayen or forlynen fro the

vertus of hir noble kynrede.

"Alle the lynage of men that ben in erthe ben

of semblable byrthe. On allone is fadir of

thynges; on allone mynystreth alle thynges.

He yaf to the sonne his bemes, he yaf to the

moone hir hornes, he yaf the men to the erthe,

he yaf the sterres to the hevene. He encloseth

with membres the soules that comen from his

heye sete. Thanne comen alle mortel folk of

noble seed. Why noysen ye or bosten of

10 your eldres? For yif thow loke youre bygynnyng,

and God your auctour and yowr

makere, thanne nis ther none forlyned wyght or

ongentil, but if he noryssche his corage unto

vices and forlete his propre byrthe.

"But what schal I seye of delyces of body, of

whiche delices the desirynges ben ful of anguyssch,

and the fulfillynges of hem ben ful of

penance? How grete seknesses and how grete

sorwes unsuffrable, ryght as a maner fruyt

of wykkidnesse, ben thilke delices wont to

bryngen to the bodyes of folk that usen hem!

Of whiche delices I not what joie mai ben had

of here moevynge, but this woot I wel, that

10 whosoevere wol remembren hym of hise

luxures, he schal wel undirstonden that the

issues of delices ben sorweful and sorye. And

yif thilke delices mowen maken folk blisful,

thanne by the same cause moten thise beestis

ben clepid blisful, of whiche beestis al the entencioun

hasteth to fulfille here bodily jolyte.

And the gladnesse of wyf and children were an

honest thyng, but it hath ben seyd that it is

overmochel ayens kynde that children han

20 ben fownden tormentours to here fadris, I

not how manye; of whiche children how

bytynge is every condicioun, it nedeth nat to

tellen it the that hast er this tyme assayed it,

and art yit now angwysshous. In this approve

I the sentence of my disciple Euripidis, that

seide that he that hath no children is weleful

by infortune.

"Every delit hath this, that it angwisscheth

hem with prykkes that usen it. It resembleth

to thise flyenge flyes that we clepen ben; that,

aftir that the be hath sched hise agreable honyes,

he fleeth awey, and styngeth the hertes of hem

that ben ysmyte, with bytynge overlonge holdynge.

"Now is it no doute thanne that thise weyes

ne ben a maner mysledynges to blisfulnesse, ne

that they ne mowen nat leden folk thider as

thei byheeten to leden hem. But with how grete

harmes thise forseide weyes ben enlaced, I

schal schewe the shortly. Forwhy yif thou enforcest

the to assemble moneye, thow must byreven

hym his moneye that hath it; and yif

thow wolt schynen with dignytees, thow

10 must bysechen and supplyen hem that

yyven tho dignytees; and yif thow coveytest

be honour to gon byfore othere folk, thow

schalt defoule thiself thurw humblesse of axynge.

Yif thou desirest power, thow schalt, be

awaytes of thy subgetis, anoyously ben cast undir

by manye periles. Axestow glorye? Thow

schalt so bien distract by aspere thynges that

thow schalt forgon sykernesse. And yif thow

wolt leden thi lif in delyces, every wyght

20 schal despysen the and forleeten the, as

thow that art thral to thyng that is right

foul and brutyl (that is to seyn, servaunt to thi

body). Now is it thanne wel yseyn how litil

and how brotel possessioun thei coveyten that

putten the goodes of the body aboven hir

owene resoun. For maystow surmounten thise

olifauntes in gretnesse or weighte of body? Or

maistow ben strengere than the bole? Maystow

ben swyftere than the tigre? Byhoold the

30 spaces and the stablenesse and the swyft

cours of the hevene, and stynt somtyme to

wondren on foule thynges. The whiche hevene

certes nys nat rathere for thise thynges to ben

wondryd upon, than for the resoun by whiche it

is governed. But the schynynge of thi forme

(that is to seyn, the beute of thi body), how

swyftly passynge is it, and how transitorie!

"Certes it es more flyttynge than the mutabilite

of floures of the somer sesoun. For so as

40 Aristotle telleth, that if that men hadden

eyghen of a beeste that highte lynx, so that

the lokynge of folk myghte percen thurw the

thynges that withstonden it, whoso lokide

thanne in the entrayles of the body of Alcibiades,

that was ful fair in the superfice withoute,

it schulde seme ryght foul. And forthi yif

thow semest fair, thy nature ne maketh nat

that, but the deceyvaunce or the feblesse of the

eighen that loken. But preise the goodes of

50 the body as mochil as evere the lyst, so that

thow knowe algatis that, whatso it be (that

is to seyn, of the godes of the body) whiche that

thou wondrist uppon, mai ben destroied or dissolvid

by the heete of a fevere of thre dayes.

Of alle whiche forseide thynges Y mai reducen

this schortly in a somme: that thise worldly

goodes, whiche that ne mowen nat yeven that

they byheeten, ne ben nat parfite by the congregacioun

of alle goodis, that they ne ben

60 nat weyes ne pathes that bryngen men to

blisfulnesse, ne maken men to ben blisful.

"Allas! Whiche folie and whiche ignorance

mysledeth wandrynge wrecchis fro the path of

verray good! Certes ye ne seke no gold in

grene trees, ne ye gadere nat precyous stones in

the vynes, ne ye ne hiden nat yowre gynnes in

heye mountaignes to kacchen fyssche of whiche

ye mai maken riche festes. And if yow liketh

to hunte to roos, ye ne gon nat to the foordes

of the watir that highte Tyrene. And over

10 this, men knowen wel the krikes and the

cavernes of the see yhidde in the flodes,

and knowen ek whiche watir is moost plentevous

of white peerlis, and knowen whiche watir

haboundeth moost of reed purpre (that is to

seyn, of a maner schellefyssche with whiche men

deien purpre), and knowen whiche strondes

habounden most of tendre fysches, or of scharpe

fyssches that hyghten echynnys. But folk suffren

hemselve to ben so blynde, that hem

20 ne reccheth nat to knowe where thilke

goodes ben yhud whiche that thei coveyten,

but ploungen hem in erthe, and seken

there thilke good that surmounteth the hevene

that bereth the sterris. What preyere mai I

make, that be digne to the nyce thoughtes of

men? But I preie that thei coveyten rychesses

and honours, so that, whanne thei han geten

tho false goodes with greet travaile, that therby

they mowen knowen the verray goodes.

"It suffiseth that I have schewyd hiderto the

forme of fals welefulnesse, so that yif thou loke

now cleerly, the ordre of myn entencioun requireth

from hennes forth to schewe the verray

welefulnesse."

"Forsothe," quod I, "I se wel now that suffisaunce

may nat comen by rychesse, ne power

by remes, ne reverence by dignites, ne gentilesse

by glorie, ne joie be delices."

10 "And hastow wel knowen the causes,"

quod sche, "whi it es?"

"Certes me semeth," quod I, "that Y see hem

ryght as thoughe it were thurw a litil clyfte, but

me were levere knowen hem more opynly of

the."

"Certes," quod sche, "the resoun is al redy.

For thilke thyng that symply is o thyng withouten

ony devysioun, the errour and folie of

mankynde departeth and divideth it, and

20 mysledeth it and transporteth from verray

and parfit good to godes that ben false and

inparfit. But seye me this. Wenestow that he

that hath nede of power, that hym ne lakketh

nothyng?"

"Nay," quod I.

"Certes," quod sche, "thou seyst aryght; for

if so be that ther is a thyng that in ony partie

be feblere of power, certes, as in that, it moot

nedes be nedy of foreyne help."

30 "Ryght so is it," quod I.

"Suffisaunce and power ben thanne of

o kynde?"

"So semeth it," quod I.

"And demestow," quod sche, "that a thyng

that is of this manere (that is to seyn, suffisaunt

and myghty) oughte ben despised, or ellis that

it be right digne of reverence aboven alle

thynges?"

"Certes," quod I, "it nys no doute that it

40 nys right worthy to ben reverenced."

"Lat us," quod sche, "adden thanne reverence

to suffisaunce and to power, so that we

demen that thise thre thynges be al o thyng."

"Certes," quod I, "lat us adden it, yif we

wiln graunten the sothe."

"What demestow thanne," quod sche, "is

that a dirk thyng and nat noble that is suffisaunt,

reverent, and myghty; or elles that it is

ryght noble and ryght cleer by celebrete of

50 renoun? Considere thanne," quod sche, "as

we han grauntide hirbyfore that he that ne

hath nede of no thyng and is moost myghty

and moost digne of honour, if hym nedeth ony

cleernesse of renoun, whiche clernesse he myght

nat graunten of hymself; so that for lak of

thilke cleernesse he myghte seme the feblere

on any side, or the more outcast." (Glose. This

to seyn, nay; for whoso that is suffisaunt,

myghty, and reverent, clernesse of renoun

60 folweth of the forseyde thynges; he hath it

al redy of his suffysaunce.)

Boece. "I mai nat," quod I, "denye it, but I

moot granten, as it is, that this thyng be ryght

celebrable by clernesse of renoun and noblesse."

"Thanne folweth it," quod sche, "that we

adden clernesse of renoun to the thre forseyde

thynges, so that there ne be amonges hem no

difference."

"This a consequence," quod I.

70 "This thyng thanne," quod sche, "that ne

hath nede of no foreyne thyng, and that

may don alle thynges by hise strengthis, and

that is noble and honourable, nys nat that a

myry thyng and a joyful?"

Boece. "But whennes," quod I, "that any sorwe

myghte comen to this thyng that is swiche,

certes I mai nat thynke."

Philosophie. "Thanne mote we graunten,"

quod sche, "that this thing be ful of gladnesse,

80 if the forseide thynges ben sothe;

and certes also mote we graunten that suffisaunce,

power, noblesse, reverence, and gladnesse

be oonly diverse by names, but hir substaunce

hath no diversite."

Boece. "It moot nedly ben so," quod I.

Philosophie. "Thilke thyng thanne," quod

sche, "that is oon and symple in his nature, the

wikkidnesse of men departeth it and divideth

it; and whanne thei enforcen hem to gete

90 partie of a thyng that ne hath no part, thei

ne geten hem neyther thilke partie that nis

noon, ne the thyng al hool that thei ne desire

nat."

Boece. "In whiche manere?" quod I.

Philosophie. "Thilke man," quod sche, "that

seketh richesse to fleen poverte, he ne travaileth

hym nat for to geten power, for he hath

lever ben dirk and vyl; and eek withdraweth

from hymself manye naturel delites, for he

100 nolde leese the moneie that he hath assembled.

But certes in this manere he ne

geteth hym nat suffisance, that power forleteth,

and that moleste prikketh, and that filthe maketh

outcaste, and that dirknesse hideth. And

certes he that desireth oonly power, he wasteth

and scatereth rychesse, and despyseth delices

and eek honour that is withoute power, ne he

ne preiseth glorie nothyng. Certes thus seestow

wel that manye thynges failen to hym, for

110 he hath som tyme defaute of manye necessites,

and manye anguysshes byten hym;

and whan he ne mai nat do tho defautes awey,

he forletith to ben myghty, and that is the

thyng that he moost desireth. And ryght thus

mai I make semblable resouns of honours, and

of glorie, and of delyces; for so as every of

thise forseide thinges is the same that thise

othere thynges ben (that is to seyn, al oon

thyng), whoso that evere seketh to geten

120 the toon of thise, and nat the tothir, he ne

geteth nat that he desireth."

Boece. "What seystow thanne, yif that a

man coveyte to geten alle thise thynges togidre?"

Philosophie. "Certes," quod sche, "I wolde

seye that he wolde geten hym sovereyn blisfulnesse;

but that schal he nat fynde in tho

thynges that I have schewed that ne mowen

nat yeven that thei byheeten?"

130 Boece. "Certes no," quod I.

"Thanne," quod sche, "ne sholde men

nat by no weye seken blisfulnesse in siche

thynges as men wenen that they ne mowen

yeven but o thyng sengly of al that men

seken."

Boece. "I graunte wel," quod I, "ne no

sothere thyng ne may be seyd."

Philosophie. "Now hastow thanne," quod

sche, "the forme and the causes of fals

140 welefulnesse. Now torne and flytte the

eighen of thi thought, for ther shaltow

seen anoon thilke verray blisfulnesse that I

have behyght the."

Boece. "Certes," quod I, "it is cler and opene,

theyghe it were to a blynd man; and that

schewedestow me ful wel a litel herbyforn,

whan thow enforcedest the to schewe me the

causes of the fals blisfulnesse. For, but if I be

begiled, thanne is thilke the verray parfit

150 blisfulnesse that parfitly maketh a man suffisaunt,

myghty, honourable, noble, and

ful of gladnesse. And for thow schalt wel

knowe that I have wel undirstonden thise

thinges withynne myn herte, I knowe wel that

thilke blisfulnesse that may verrayly yeven on

of the forseyde thynges, syn thei ben alle oon

-- I knowe dowtelees that thilke thyng is the

ful blysfulnesse."

Philosophie. "O my nory," quod sche,

160 "by this opynyoun I seie that thow art

blisful, yif thow putte this therto that I

schal seyn."

"What is that?" quod I.

"Trowestow that ther be any thyng in this

erthly, mortel, toumblynge thynges that may

brynge this estat?"

"Certes," quod I, "Y trowe it nought; and

thow hast schewyd me wel that over thilke good

ther nys no thyng more to ben desired."

170 Philosophie. "Thise thynges thanne,"

quod sche (that is to seyn, erthly

suffysaunce and power and swiche thynges),

"outher thei semen lyknesses of verray good, or

elles it semeth that thei yeve to mortel folk a

maner of goodes that ne be nat parfyt. But thilke

good that is verray and parfyt, that mai thei nat

yeven."

Boece. "I accorde me wel," quod I.

Philosophie. "Thanne," quod sche, "for as

180 moche as thou hast knowen whiche is thilke

verray blisfulnesse, and eek whiche thilke

thynges ben that lyen falsly blisfulnesse (that is

to seyn, that be deceyte semen verray goodes),

now byhoveth the to knowe, whennes and

where thow mowe seke thilke verrai blisfulnesse."

"Certes," quod I "that desire I gretly and

have abyden longe tyme to herkne it."

"But for as moche," quod sche, "as it

190 liketh to my disciple Plato, in his book of

In Thymeo, that in ryght litel thynges men

schulde byseche the help of God, what juggestow

that be now to done, so that we may

desserve to fynde the seete of thilk sovereyn

good?"

Boece. "Certes," quod I, "Y deme that we

schul clepe to the Fadir of alle [thyng], for

withouten hym nis ther no [begynnyng] founded

aryght."

200 "Thow seyst aryght," quod sche, and

bygan anoon to syngen right thus:

"O thow Fadir, soowere and creatour of

hevene and of erthes, that governest this world

by perdurable resoun, that comaundest the

tymes to gon from syn that age hadde bygynnynge;

thow that duellest thiselve ay stedefast

and stable, and yevest alle othere thynges to

ben meved, ne foreyne causes necesseden the

nevere to compoune werk of floterynge matere,

but oonly the forme of sovereyn good iset

10 within the withoute envye, that moevede

the frely. Thow, that art althir-fayrest,

berynge the faire world in thy thought, formedest

this world to the lyknesse semblable of

that faire world in thy thought. Thou drawest

alle thyng of thy sovereyn ensaumpler and

comaundest that this world, parfytely ymakid,

have frely and absolut hise parfyte parties.

Thow byndest the elementis by nombres proporcionables,

that the coolde thinges

20 mowen accorde with the hote thinges, and

the drye thinges with the moyste; that the

fuyer, that is purest, ne fle nat over-heye, ne that

the hevynesse ne drawe nat adoun over-lowe the

erthes that ben ploungid in the watris. Thow

knyttest togidere the mene soule of treble

kynde moevynge alle thingis, and divydest it

by membrys accordynge; and whan it es thus

divyded [and] hath assembled a moevynge

into two rowndes, it gooth to torne ayen

30 to hymself, and envyrouneth a ful deep

thought and turneth the hevene by semblable

ymage. Thow by evene-lyke causes enhauncest

the soules and the lasse lyves; and,

ablynge hem heye by lyghte waynes or cartes,

thow sowest hem into hevene and into erthe.

And whan thei ben convertyd to the by thi

benygne lawe, thow makest hem retourne ayen

to the by ayen-ledynge fyer. O Fadir, yyve

thou to the thought to steyen up into the

40 streyte seete; and graunte hym to enviroune

the welle of good; and, the lyght

ifounde, graunte hym to fycchen the clere

syghtes of his corage in the; and skatere thou

and tobreke the weyghtes and the cloudes of

erthly hevynesse; and schyn thou by thi bryghtnesse,

for thou art cleernesse, thow art pesible

reste to debonayre folk; thow thiself art bygynnynge,

berere, ledere, path, and terme; to looke

on the, that is our ende.

"For as moche thanne as thow hast seyn

whiche is the fourme of good that nys nat parfit,

and whiche is the forme of good that is parfit,

now trowe I that it were good to schewe in

what this perfeccioun of blisfulnesse is set.

And in this thing I trowe that we schulde first

enquere for to witen, yf that any swich maner

good as thilke good that thow hast dyffinysshed

a litel herebyforn (that is to seyn, sovereyn

10 good) may be founde in the nature of

thinges, for that veyn ymagynacioun of

thought ne desceyve us nat, and put us out of

the sothfastnesse of thilke thing that is summytted

to us. But it may nat be denyed that

thilke good ne is, and that it nys ryght as a

welle of alle goodes. For alle thing that is

cleped inparfyt is proevid inparfit be the

amenusynge of perfeccioun or of thing that is

parfit. And herof cometh it that in every

20 thing general, yif that men seen any thing

that is inparfit, certes in thilke general ther

moot ben som thing that is parfit. For yif so be

that perfeccioun is don awey, men may nat

thinke ne say fro whennes thilke thing is that

is cleped inparfyt. For the nature of thinges ne

took nat hir begynnynge of thinges amenused

and inparfit, but it procedith of thinges that

ben alle hole and absolut, and descendith so

doun into uttereste thinges and into thinges

30 empty and withouten fruyt. But, as I have

schewid a litel herebyforn that yif ther be

a blisfulnesse that be freel and veyn and inparfyt,

ther may no man doute that ther nys

som blisfulnesse that is sad, stedefast, and

parfyt."

Boece. "This is concluded," quod I, "feermely

and soothfastly."

Philosophie. "But considere also," quod sche,

"in whom this blissefulnes enhabiteth. The

40 comune accordaunce and conceyt of the

corages of men proveth and graunteth that

God, prince of alle thinges, is good. For, so as

nothyng mai ben thought betere than God, it

mai nat ben douted thanne that he that no

thinge nys betere, that he nys good. Certes resoun

scheweth that God is so good that it

proeveth by verray force that parfyt good is in

hym. For yif God nys swyche, he ne mai nat be

prince of alle thinges; for certes somthing

50 possessyng in itself parfyt good schulde be

more worthy than God, and it scholde

semen that thilke thing were first and eldere than

God. For we han schewyd apertely that alle

thinges that ben parfyt ben first er thynges that

ben inparfit; and forthy, for as moche as that

my resoun or my proces ne go nat awey withouten

an ende, we owe to graunte that the

sovereyn God is ryght ful of sovereyn parfit

good. And we han establissched that the

60 sovereyne good is verray blisfulnesse.

Thanne moot it nedis be that verray blisfulnesse

is set in sovereyn God."

Boece. "This take I wel," quod I, "ne this

ne mai nat be withseid in no manere."

"But I preye the," quod sche, "see now how

thou mayst proeven holily and withoute corrupcioun

this that I have seid, that the sovereyn

God is ryght ful of sovereyne good."

"In whiche manere?" quod I.

70 "Wenestow aught," quod sche, "that this

prince of alle thynges have itake thilke sovereyne

good anywher out of hymself, of whiche

sovereyne good men proeveth that he is ful;

ryght as thou myghtest thenken that God, that

hath blisfulnesse in hymself, and thilke blisfulnesse

that is in hym, were divers in substaunce?

For yif thow wene that God have resseyved

thilke good out of hymself, thow mayst wene

that he that yaf thilke good to God be more

80 worth than is God. But I am beknowe and

confesse, and that ryght dignely, that God

is ryght worthy aboven alle thinges. And yif

so be that this good be in hym by nature, but

that it is dyvers from hym by wenynge resoun,

syn we speke of God prynce of alle thynges,

feyne who so feyne mai who was he that

hath conjoyned thise divers thynges togidre.

And eek at the laste se wel that a thing that is

divers from any thing, that thilke thing nys

90 nat that same thing fro whiche it es undirstonden

to be diverse. Thanne folweth it

that thilke thing that be his nature is divers

from sovereyn good, that that thyng nys nat

sovereyn good; but certes it were a felenous

cursydnesse to thinken that of hym that no

thing nys more worth. For alwey, of alle

thinges, the nature of hem ne may nat ben betere

thanne hir begynnynge. For whiche I mai concluden

by ryght verray resoun that thilke

100 that is begynnynge of alle thinges, thilke

same thing is sovereyn good in his substaunce."

Boece. "Thow hast seyd ryghtfully," quod I.

Philosophie. "But we han graunted," quod

sche, "that the sovereyn good is blisfulnesse."

"That is sooth," quod I.

"Thanne," quod sche, "moten we nedes

granten and confessen that thilke same sovereyn

good be God."

110 "Certes," quod I, "Y ne may nat denye

ne withstonde the resouns purposed; and

I se wel that it folweth by strengthe of the

premisses."

"Loke now," quod sche, "yif this be proevid

yet more fermely thus, that there ne mowen not

ben two sovereyn goodis that ben divers among

hemself. For certes the goodis that ben divers

among hemself, the toon is nat that that the

tothir is. thanne ne mowen neither of hem

120 ben parfit, so as eyther of hem lakketh to

othir. But that that nys nat parfit, men

mai seen apertely that it nys not sovereyn. The

thinges thanne that ben sovereynly gode ne

mowe by no weie be divers. But I have wel

concluded that blisfulnesse and God ben the

sovereyn good; for whiche it mote nedes be that

sovereyne blisfulnesse is sovereyn devynite."

"No thing," quod I, "nys more sothfaste than

this, ne more ferme by resoun, ne a more

130 worthy thing than God mai not ben concluded."

Philosophie. "Upon thise thynges thanne," quod

sche, "ryght as thise geometriens whan thei han

schewed her proposicions ben wont to bryngen

yn thinges that thei clepen porismes or declaracions

of forseide thinges, right so wol I yeve

the here as a corolarie or a meede of coroune.

Forwhy, for as moche as by the getynge of blisfulnesse

men ben makid blisful, and blisfulnesse

140 is dyvinite, than is it manifest and

opene that by the getynge of dyvinite men

ben makid blisful. Right as by the getynge of

justise [men ben maked just], and be the getynge

of sapience thei ben maked wise, ryght so

nedes by the semblable resoun, whan they han

geten dyvinite thei ben maked goddes. Thanne

is every blisful man God. But certes by nature

ther nys but o God; but by the participacioun

of dyvinite ther ne let ne distourbeth nothyng

150 that ther ne ben many goddis."

"This ys," quod I, "a fair thing and a

precious, clepe it as thou wilt, be it corolarie, or

porisme, or mede of coroune, or declarynges."

"Certes," quod sche, "nothing nys fairere

than is the thing that by resoun schulde ben

addide to thise forseide thinges."

"What thing?" quod I.

"So," quod sche, "as it semeth that blisfulnesse

conteneth many thinges, it weere for

160 to witen whether that alle thise thinges

maken or conjoynen as a maner body of

blisfulnesse by diversite of parties or membres,

or elles yif ony of alle thilke thinges be swich

that it acomplise by hymself the substaunce of

blisfulnesse, so that alle thise othere thynges

ben referrid and brought to blisfulnesse (that

is to seyn, as to the cheef of hem)."

"I wolde," quod I, "that thow madest me

clerly to undirstonde what thou seist, and

170 that thou recordidest me the forseide

thinges."

"Have I not jugged," quod sche, "that blisfulnesse

is good?"

"Yys for sothe," quod I, "and that sovereyn

good."

"Adde thanne," quod sche, "thilke good that

is maked blisfulnesse to alle the forseide

thinges. For thilke same blisfulnesse [is.

demed to ben sovereyn suffisaunce, thilke

180 selve is sovereyn power, sovereyn reverence,

sovereyn clernesse or noblesse, and

sovereyn delyt. What seistow thanne of alle

thise thinges, that is to seyn, suffisaunce, power,

and thise othere thinges, -- ben thei thanne as

membris of blisfulnesse, or ben they reffered

and brought to sovereyne good ryght as alle

thinges [ben] brought to the cheef of hem?"

Boece. "I undirstonde wel," quod I, "what

thou purposest to seke, but I desire for

190 to herkne that thow schew it me."

Philosophie. "Tak now thus the discrecioun

of this questioun," quod sche; "yif alle thise

thinges," quod sche, "weren membris to felicite,

thanne weren thei dyverse that on fro that

othir. And swich is the nature of parties or of

membres, that diverse membris compounen a

body."

"Certes," quod I, "it hath wel ben schewyd

herebyforn that alle thise thinges ben

200 al o thyng."

"Thanne ben thei none membres," quod

sche, "for elles it schulde seme that blisfulnesse

were conjoyned al of o membre allone;

but that is a thing that mai not ben don."

"This thing," quod I, "nys not doutous; but

I abide to herknen the remenaunt of the question."

"This is opene and cler," quod sche, "that

alle othere thinges ben referrid and

210 brought to good. For therfore is suffisaunce

requerid, for it is demyd to ben

good; and forthy is power requirid, for men

trowen also that it be good; and this same thing

mowen we thinken and conjecten of reverence,

and of noblesse, and of delyt. Thanne is sovereyn

good the somme and the cause of al that

oughte ben desired; forwhy thilke thing that

withholdeth no good in itselve, ne semblance

of good, it ne mai not wel in no

220 manere be desired ne requerid. And the

contrarie; for thoughe that thinges by here

nature ne ben not gode, algates yif men wene

that thei ben gode, yet ben thei desired as

theigh that thei were verrayliche gode; and

therefore is it that men oughte to wene by ryghte

that bounte be the sovereyn fyn and the cause

of alle the thinges that ben to requiren. But

certes thilke that is cause for whiche men

requiren any thing, it semeth that thilke

230 same thing be moost desired. As thus: yf

that a wyght wolde ryden for cause of hele,

he ne desireth not so mochel the moevyng to

ryden, as the effect of his hele. Now thanne,

syn that alle thynges ben required for the grace

of good, thei ne ben not desired of alle folk

more than the same good. But we han grauntide

that blisfulnesse is that thing for whiche that

alle thise othere thinges ben desired; thanne

is it thus that certes oonly blysfulnesse is

240 requered and desired. By whiche thing it

scheweth cleerly that of good and of blisfulnesse

is al on and the same substaunce."

"I se nat," quod I, "wherfore that men

myghten discorden in this."

"And we han schewed that God and verray

blisfulnesse is al o thing."

"That is sooth," quod I.

"Thanne mowen we concluden sykerly, that

the substaunce of God is set in thilke same

250 good, and in noon other place.

"Cometh alle to-gidre now, ye that ben

ykaught and ybounde with wikkide cheynes by

the desceyvable delyt of erthly thynges enhabitynge

in yowr thought! Her schal ben the

reste of your labours, her is the havene stable

in pesible quiete; this allone is the open refut

to wreches. (Glose. This to seyn, that ye that

ben combryd and disseyvid with worldly

affeccions, cometh now to this sovereyn

10 good, that is God, that is refut to hem

that wolen come to hym.) Textus. Alle the

thinges that the ryver Tagus yyveth yow with

his goldene gravelis, or elles alle the thinges

that the ryver Hermus yeveth with his rede

brinke, or that Indus yyveth, that is next the

hote partie of the world, that medleth the grene

stones with the white, ne scholden not cleren

the lookynge of your thought, but hiden rather

your blynde corages withynne here derknesse.

20 Al that liketh yow here, and exciteth

and moeveth your thoughtes, the

erthe hath norysschid it in his lowe caves. But

the schynynge by whiche the hevene is governed

and whennes that it hath his strengthe, that

eschueth the derke overthrowynge of the soule;

and whosoevere may knowen thilke light (of

blisfulnesse), he schal wel seyn that the white

beemes of the sonne ne ben nat cleer."

Boece. "I assente me," quod I, "for alle thise

thinges ben strongly bounden with ryght ferme

resouns."

"How mychel wiltow preysen it," quod sche,

"yif that thow knowe what thilke good is?"

"I wol preyse it," quod I, "be pris withouten

ende, yif it schal betyde me to knowe also togidre

God that is good."

"Certes," quod sche, "that schal I [undo]

10 the be verray resoun, yif that tho

thinges that I have concluded a litel herebyforn

duellen only in hir first grauntynge."

Boece. "Thei dwellen graunted to the," quod

I. (This to seyn as who seith, "I graunte thi

forseide conclusyouns.")

"Have I nat schewed the," quod sche, "that

the thinges that ben required of many folk ne

ben not verray goodis ne parfite, for thei ben

divers that on fro that othir; and so as iche

20 of hem is lakkynge to othir, thei ne han no

power to bryngen a good that is ful and

absolut; but thanne at erste ben thei verraye

good, whan thei ben gadred togidre [als] into o

forme and into oon werkynge, so that thilke

thing that is suffisaunce, thilke same be power,

and reverence, and noblesse, and myrthe; and

for sothe, but yif alle thise thinges ben alle o

same thing, thei ne han not wherby that thei

mowen be put in the nombre of thinges

30 that oughten ben required or desired?"

Boece. "It is schewyd," quod I, "ne herof

mai ther no man douten."

Philosophie. "The thinges thanne," quod sche,

"that ne ben none goodis whan thei ben diverse,

and whanne thei bygynnen to ben al o thing,

thanne ben thei goodes -- ne cometh it hem nat

thanne be the getynge of unyte that thei ben

maked goodes?"

Boece. "So it semeth," quod I.

40 "But alle thing that is good," quod sche,

"grauntestow that it be good by the participacioun

of good, or no?"

"I graunte it," quod I.

"Thanne mustow graunten," quod sche, "by

semblable resoun that oon and good be o same

thing; for of thinges of whiche that the effect nys

nat naturely divers, nedes the substaunce moot

be oo same thing."

"I ne may nat denye it," quod I.

50 "Hastow nat knowen wel," quod sche,

"that alle thing that is hath so longe his

duellynge and his substaunce as longe as it es

oon, but whanne it forletith to be oon, it moot

nedys deien and corrumpen togidres?"

"In whiche manere?" quod I.

"Ryght as in beestes," quod sche, "whanne

the soule and the body ben conjoyned in oon

and dwellen togidre, it es cleped a beeste; and

whanne her unyte is destroyed be the

60 disseveraunce the toon fro the tothir,

thanne scheweth it wel that it is a deed

thing, and that it nys no lengere no beeste. And

the body of a wyght, while it duelleth in oo

fourme be conjunccion of membris, it is wel

seyn that it is a figure of mankynde; and yif

the parties of the body ben so devyded and

disseverid the ton fro the tother that thei destroyen

unite, the body forletith to ben that it was

beforn. And whoso wolde renne in the

70 same manere be alle thinges, he scholde

seen that withouten doute every thing is in

his substaunce as longe as it is oon; and whanne

it forletith to ben oon, it dyeth and peryssheth."

Boece. "Whanne I considere," quod I, "manye

thinges, I se noon other."

"Is ther any thing thanne," quod sche, "that,

in as moche as it lyveth naturely, that forletith

the talent or the appetyt of his beynge and

desireth to come to deth and to corrupcioun?"

"Yif I considere," quod I, "the beestes

that han any maner nature of wyllynge and of

nyllynge, I ne fynde no beeste, but if it be

constreyned fro withoute-forth, that forletith or

despiseth the entencion to lyven and to duren;

or that wole, his thankes, hasten hym to dyen.

For every beest travaileth hym to defende and

kepe the savacion of his lif, and eschueth deeth

and destruccioun. But certes I doute me of

90 herbes and of trees [and] I am in a doute

of swiche thinges [as] ne han no felyng

soules (ne no naturel werkynges servynge to

appetites as beestes han, whether thei han

appetyt to duellen and to duren).

"Certes," quod sche, "ne therof thar the nat

doute. Now looke upon thise herbes and thise

trees. They wexen first in suche places as ben

covenable to hem, in whiche places thei mowen

nat sone deye ne dryen, as longe as hir

100 nature mai defenden hem. For some of

hem waxen in feeldis, and some in mountaynes,

and othere waxen in mareys, and

othre cleven on roches, and some wexen

plentyvous in soondes; and yif any wyght

enforce hym to bere hem into other places, thei

wexen drye. For nature yeveth to every thing

that that is convenient to hym, and travailleth

that they ne deie nat, as longe as thei han power

to duellen and to lyven. What wiltow seyn

110 of this, that thei drawen alle here

norysschynges by here rootes, ryght as thei

hadden here mouthes yplounged withynne the

erthes, and sheden be hir maryes hir wode and

hir bark? And what wyltow seyn of this, that

thilke thing that is ryght softe, as the marie is,

that it is alwey hyd in the seete al withinne, and

that it is defended fro withoute by the

stedfastnesse of wode, and that the outreste bark

is put ayens the distemperaunce of the

120 hevene as a deffendour myghty to suffren

harm? And thus certes maistow wel seen

how greet is the diligence of nature; for alle

thinges renovelen and publysschen hem with

seed ymultiplied, ne ther nys no man that ne

woot wel that they ne ben ryght as a foundement

and edifice for to duren, noght oonly for a tyme,

but ryght as for to dure perdurably by

generacion.

"And the thinges eek that men wenen ne

130 haven none soules, ne desire thei nat, iche

of hem, by semblable resoun to kepyn that

that is hirs (that is to seyn, that is accordynge

to hir nature in conservacioun of hir beynge

and endurynge)? For wherfore ellis bereth

lightnesse the flaumbes up, and the weyghte

presseth the erthe adoun, but for as moche as

thilke places and thilke moevynges ben covenable

to everyche of hem? And forsothe every

thing kepeth thilke that is accordynge

140 and propre to hym, ryght as thinges that

ben contrarious and enemys corrumpen

hem. And yet the harde thinges, as stones,

clyven and holden here parties togidere ryght

faste and harde, and defenden hem in

withstondynge that thei ne departe nat lyghtly

atwynne. And the thinges that ben softe and

fletynge, as is watir and eyr, thei departen

lyghtly and yeven place to hem that breken or

divyden hem; but natheles they retorne

150 sone ageyn into the same thinges fro

whennes thei ben arraced; but fyer fleeth

and refuseth alle dyvisioun.

"Ne I ne trete not here now of willeful

moevynges of the soule that is knowyng, but of

the naturel entencioun of thinges, as thus: ryght

as we swolwen the mete that we resseyven and

ne thinke nat on it, and as we drawen our breeth

in slepynge that we witen it nat while we slepyn.

For certes in the beestis the love of hire

160 lyvynges ne of hire beynges ne cometh

not of the wilnynges of the soule, but of

the bygynnynges of nature. For certes, thurw

constreynynge causes, wil desireth and embraceth

ful ofte tyme the deeth that nature

dredeth. (That is to seyn as thus: that a man

may be constreyned so, by som cause, that his

wille desireth and taketh the deeth whiche

that nature hateth and dredeth ful sore.) And

somtyme we seen the contrarye, as thus:

170 that the wil of a wyght distourbeth and

constreyneth that that nature desireth and

requirith alwey, that is to seyn the werk of

generacioun, by whiche generacioun only

duelleth and is susteyned the longe durablete of

mortel thinges. And thus this charite and this

love, that every thing hath to hymself, ne

cometh not of the moevynge of the soule, but of

the entencioun of nature. For the purveaunce of

God hath yeven to thinges that ben creat of

180 hym this, that is a ful grete cause to lyven

and to duren, for whiche they desiren

naturely here lif as longe as evere thei mowen.

For which thou mayst not drede be no manere

that alle the thinges that ben anywhere, that thei

ne requiren naturely the ferme stablenesse of

perdurable duellynge, and eek the eschuynge of

destruccioun."

Boece. "Now confesse I wel," quod I, "that Y

see wel now certeynly withouten doutes

190 the thinges that whilom semeden uncerteyn

to me."

Philosophie. "But," quod sche, "thilke thing

that desireth to be and to duelle perdurably, he

desireth to ben oon. For yif that oon were

destroyed, certes, beynge schulde ther noon

duellen to no wyght."

"That is sooth," quod I.

"Thanne," quod sche, "desiren alle thinges

oon."

200 "I assente," quod I.

"And I have schewed," quod sche, "that

thilke same oon is thilke that is good."

Boece. "Ye, forsothe," quod I.

"Alle thinges thanne," quod sche, "requiren

good; and thilke good thow mayst descryven

ryght thus: good is thilk thing that every wyght

desireth."

"Ther ne may be thought," quod I, "no more

verraye thing. For eyther alle thinges ben

210 referrid and brought to noght, and floteren

withouten governour, despoyled of oon as

of hire propre heved; or elles, yif ther be any

thing to whiche that alle thinges tenden and

hyen to, that thing muste ben the sovereyn good

of alle goodes."

Philosophie. Thanne seide sche thus: "O my

nory," quod sche, "I have greet gladnesse of

the, for thow hast fycched in thyn herte the

[marke] [of] [the] myddel sothfastnesse, (that

220 is to seyn, the prykke). But [in] this thing

hath ben discoveryd to the [that] thow

seydest that thow wistest not a litel herbyforn."

"What was that?" quod I.

"That thou ne wistest noght," quod sche,

"whiche was the ende of thinges. And certes that

is the thyng that every wyght desireth. and for

as mochel as we han gadrid and comprehendid

that good is thilke thing that is desired of alle,

thanne mote we nedys confessen that good

230 is the fyn of alle thinges.

"Whoso that seketh sooth by a deep thought,

and coveyteth not to ben disseyvid by no mysweyes,

lat hym rollen and trenden withynne

hymself the lyght of his ynwarde sighte; and

let hym gaderyn ayein, enclynynge into a compas,

the longe moevynges of his thoughtes; and

let hym techyn his corage that he hath enclosid

and hid in his tresors al that he compasseth or

secheth fro withoute. And thanne thilke

10 thing that the blake cloude of errour

whilom hadde ycovered schal lighte more

clerly than Phebus hymself ne schyneth.

(Glosa. Whoso wol seke the depe ground of

soth in his thought, and wil nat ben disseyvid

by false proposiciouns that goon amys fro the

trouthe, lat hym wel examine and rolle withynne

hymself the nature and the propretes of

the thing; and let hym yet eftsones examinen

and rollen his thoughtes by good deliberacioun

20 or that he deme, and lat hym techyn

his soule that it hath, by naturel principles

kyndeliche yhud withynne itself, al the trouthe

the whiche he ymagineth to ben in thinges

withoute. And thanne al the derknesse of his

mysknowynge shall [schewen] more evydently

to the sighte of his undirstondynge then the

sonne ne semeth to the sighte withoute-forth.)

For certes the body, bryngynge the weighte of

foryetynge, ne hath nat chased out of your

30 thought al the cleernesse of your knowyng;

for certeynli the seed of soth haldeth and

clyveth within yowr corage, and it is awaked

and excited by the wynde and by the blastes

of doctrine. For wherfore elles demen ye of

your owene wil the ryghtes, whan ye ben axid,

but if so were that the norysschynges of resoun

ne lyvede yplounged in the depe of your herte?

(This to seyn, how schulde men deme the sothe

of any thing that were axid, yif ther nere a

40 rote of sothfastnesse that were yploungid

and hyd in the naturel principles, the

whiche sothfastnesse lyvede within the depnesse

of the thought?) And if so be that the

Muse and the doctrine of Plato syngeth soth,

al that every wyght leerneth, he ne doth no

thing elles thanne but recordeth, as men recorden

thinges that ben foryeten."

Thanne seide I thus: "I accorde me gretly to

Plato, for thou recordist and remembrist me

thise thinges yet the seconde tyme; that is to

seye, first whan I loste my memorie be the contagious

conjunccioun of the body with the

soule, and eftsones aftirward, whan Y lost it

confounded by the charge and be the burdene

of my sorwe."

And thanne seide sche thus: "Yif thow

10 loke," quod sche, "first the thynges that

thou hast graunted, it ne schal nat ben

ryght fer that thow ne schalt remembren thilke

thing that thou seidest that thou nystist nat."

"What thing?" quod I.

"By whiche governement," quod sche, "that

this world is governed."

"Me remembreth it wel," quod I; "and I confesse

wel that I ne wyste it nat. But al be it so

that I see now from afer what thou purposist,

20 algates I desire yit to herknen it of

the more pleynly."

"Thou ne wendest nat," quod sche, "a litel

herebyforn, that men schulde doute that this

world nys governed by God."

"Certes," quod I, "ne yet ne doute I it

naught, ne I nyl nevere wene that it were to

doute" (as who seith, "but I woot wel that God

governeth this world"); "and I schal schortly

answeren the be what resouns I

30 am brought to this. This world," quod I,

"of so manye diverse and contraryous

parties, ne myghte nevere han ben assembled

in o forme, but yif ther ne were oon that conjoyned

so manye diverse thinges; and the same

diversite of here natures, that so discorden the

ton fro that other, most departen and unjoynen

the thinges that ben conjoynid, yif ther ne were

oon that contenyde that he hath conjoynid and

ybounden. Ne the certein ordre of nature ne

40 schulde not brynge forth so ordene moevynges

by places, by tymes, by doynges, by

spaces, by qualites, yif ther ne were on, that

were ay stedfaste duellynge, that ordeynide and

disponyde thise diversites of moevynges. And

thilke thing, whatsoevere it be, by whiche that

alle things ben ymaked and ilad, Y clepe hym

`God,' that is a word that is used to alle folk."

Thanne seide sche: "Syn thou feelist thus

thise thinges," quod sche, "I trowe that I

50 have litel more to done that thou, myghty

of welefulnesse, hool and sound, ne see

eftsones thi contre. But let us loken the thinges

that we han purposed herebyforn. Have I nat

nombrid and seid," quod sche, "that suffisaunce

is in blisfulnesse, and we han accorded that

God is thilke same blisfulnesse?"

"Yis, forsothe," quod I.

"And that to governen this world," quod

sche, "ne schal he nevere han nede of noon

60 help fro withoute? For elles, yif he hadde

nede of any help, he ne schulde nat have

no ful suffisaunce?"

"Yys, thus it moot nedes be," quod I.

"Thanne ordeyneth he be hymself alone alle

thinges?" quod sche.

"That may noght ben denyed," quod I.

"And I have schewyd that God is the same

good?"

"It remembreth me wel," quod I.

70 "Thanne ordeigneth he alle thinges by

thilke good," quod sche, "syn he, whiche

that we han accordid to ben good, governeth

alle thinges by hymself; and he is as a keye and

a styere, by whiche that the edifice of this world

is kept stable and withouten corrumpynge."

"I accorde me greetly," quod I. "And I

aperceyvede a litil herebyforn that thow woldest

seyn thus, al be it so that it were by a

thynne suspecioun."

80 "I trowe it wel," quod sche; "for, as I

trowe, thou ledist now more ententyfliche

thyn eyen to loken the verray goodes. But natheles

the thing that I schal telle the yet ne

scheweth not lesse to loken."

"What is that?" quod I.

"So as men trowen," quod sche, "and that

ryghtfully, that God governeth alle thinges by

the keye of his goodnesse, and alle thise same

thinges, as I have taught the, hasten hem

90 by naturel entencioun to come to good,

ther may no man douten that thei ne

ben governed voluntariely, and that they ne

converten hem of here owene wil to the wil of

here ordeynour, as thei that ben accordynge

and enclynynge to here governour and here

kyng."

"It moot nedes be so," quod I, "for the reume

ne schulde nat seme blisful yif ther were a yok

of mysdrawynges in diverse parties, ne the

100 savynge of obedient thynges ne scholde

nat be."

"Thanne is ther nothyng," quod sche, "that

kepith his nature, that enforceth hym to gon

ayen God."

"No," quod I.

"And yif that any thing enforcede hym to

withstonde God, myghte it avayle at the laste

ayens hym that we han graunted to ben almyghty

by the ryght of blisfulnesse?"

110 "Certes," quod I, "al outrely it ne

myghte nat avaylen hym."

"Thanne is ther nothing," quod she, "that

either mai or wole withstonden to this sovereyn

good."

"I trowe nat," quod I.

"Thanne is thilke the sovereyn good," quod

sche, "that alle thinges governeth strongly

and ordeyneth hem softly?"

Thanne seide I thus: "I delite me,"

120 quod I, "nat oonly in the eendes or in the

somme of the resouns that thou hast concluded

and proved, but thilke woordes that

thou usest deliten me moche more. So that, at

the laste, foolis that somtyme reenden grete

thinges oughten ben asschamid of hemself

(that is to seyn, that we foolis that reprehenden

wikkidly the thinges that touchen Godis

governaunce, we aughten ben asschamid of

ourself), as I, that seide that God refuseth

130 oonly the werkis of men and ne entremettith

nat of it."

Philosophie. "Thow hast wel herd," quod

sche, "the fables of the poetis, how the geauntis

assaileden hevene with the goddis, but forsothe

the debonayre force of God disposide hem as it

was worthy (that is to sey, destroyed the

geauntes, as it was worthy). But wiltow that

we joynen togidres thilke same resouns, for

paraventure of swiche conjunccioun may

140 sterten up som fair sparcle of soth?"

"Do," quod I, "as the list."

"Wenestow," quod sche, "that God ne be

almyghty? No man is in doute of it."

"Certes," quod I, "no wyght ne douteth it,

yif he be in his mynde."

"But he," quod sche, "that is almyghti, ther

nys no thyng that he ne may?"

"That is sooth," quod I.

"May God don evel?" quod sche.

150 "Nay, forsothe," quod I.

"Thanne is evel nothing," quod sche,

"syn that he ne may not don evel, that mai

doon alle thinges."

"Scornestow me," quod I, "or elles, pleyestow

or disseyvistow me, that hast so woven

me with thi resouns the hous of Didalus,

so entrelaced that it is unable to ben unlaced,

thow that otherwhile entrist ther thow issist,

and other while issist ther thow entrest?

160 Ne fooldist thou nat togidre by replicacioun

of wordes a manere wondirful sercle

or envirounynge of the simplicite devyne?

For certes a litel herebyforne, whanne thou bygunne

at blisfulnesse, thou seidest that it is

sovereyn good, and seidest that it is set in sovereyn

God; and seidest that God hymself is

sovereyn good, and that God is the ful blisfulnesse;

for whiche thou yave me as a covenable

yifte, that is to seyn, that no wyght nis

170 blisful, but yif he be God also therwith.

And seidest eke that the forme of good is

the substaunce of God and of blisfulnesse; and

seidest that thilke same oon is thilke same good

that is required and desired of al the kynde of

thinges. And thou provedest in disputynge that

God governeth alle the thinges of the world by

the governementis of bounte, and seidest that

alle thinges wolen obeyen to hym, and seidest

that the nature of yvel nys no thing. And

180 thise thinges ne schewedest thou naught

with noone resouns ytaken fro withouten,

but by proeves in cercles and homliche knowen,

the whiche proeves drawen to hemself heer

feyth and here accord everiche of hem of othir."

Thanne seide sche thus: "I ne scorne the nat,

ne pleie, ne disceyve the; but I have schewed

the the thing that is grettest over alle thinges,

by the yifte of God that we whelome prayeden.

For this is the forme of the devyne substaunce,

190 that is swiche that it ne slideth nat

into uttreste foreyne thinges, ne ne resceyveth

noone straunge thinges in hym; but

ryght as Parmanydes seide in Grees of thilke

devyne substaunce -- he seide thus: that thilke

devyne substaunce tornith the world and the

moevable sercle of thinges, while thilke devyne

substaunce kepith itself withouten moevynge

(that is to seyn, that it ne moeveth nevere mo,

and yet it moeveth alle othere thinges).

200 But natheles, yif I have styred resouns

that ne ben nat taken from withouten the compas

of the thing of whiche we treten, but resouns

that ben bystowyd withinne that compas,

ther nys nat why that thou schuldest merveillen,

sith thow hast lernyd by the sentence

of Plato that nedes the wordis moot be cosynes

to the thinges of whiche thei speken.

"Blisful is that man that may seen the clere

welle of good! Blisful is he that mai unbynden

hym fro the boondes of the hevy erthe! The

poete of Trace, Orpheus, that whilome hadde

ryght greet sorwe for the deth of his wyf, aftir

that he hadde makid by his weeply songes the

wodes moevable to renne, and hadde makid

the ryveris to stonden stille, and hadde maked

the hertes and the hyndes to joynen dreedles

10 here sydes to cruel lyouns for to herknen

his song, and hadde maked that the

hare was nat agast of the hound, whiche was

plesed by his song; so, whanne the moste ardaunt

love of his wif brende the entrayles of his

breest, ne the songes that hadden overcomen

alle thinges ne mighten nat asswagen hir lord

Orpheus, he pleynid hym of the hevene

goddis that weren cruel to hym.

"He wente hym to the houses of helle,

20 and ther he tempride his blaundysschinge

songes by resounynge strenges, and spak

and song in wepynge al that evere he hadde

resceyved and lavyd out of the noble welles of

his modir Callyope the goddesse. And he sang

with as mochel as he myghte of wepynge, and

with as moche as love that doublide his sorwe

myghte yeve hym and teche hym, and he

commoevde the helle, and requyred and bysoughte

by swete preyere the lordes of

30 soules in helle of relessynge, that is to seyn,

to yelden hym his wyf. Cerberus, the porter

of helle, with hise thre hevedes, was caught and

al abasschid of the newe song. And the thre

goddesses, furiis and vengeresses of felonyes,

that tormenten and agasten the soules by anoy,

woxen sorweful and sory, and wepyn teeris for

pite. Tho was nat the heved of Yxion ytormented

by the overthrowynge wheel. And Tantalus, that

was destroied by the woodnesse of long

40 thurst, despyseth the floodes to drynken.

The foul that highte voltor, that etith the

stomak or the gyser of Tycius, is so fulfild of

his song that it nil eten ne tiren no more. At the

laste the lord and juge of soules was moevid to

misericordes, and cryede: `We ben overcomen,'

quod he; `yyve we to Orpheus his wif to beren

hym compaignye; he hath wel ybought hire by

his faire song and his ditee. But we wolen putten

a lawe in this and covenaunt in the yifte;

50 that is to seyn that, til he be out of helle, yif

he loke byhynde hym, that his wyf schal

comen ageyn unto us.' But what is he that may

yeven a lawe to loverys? Love is a grettere lawe

and a strengere to hymself thanne any lawe that

men mai yyven. Allas! Whanne Orpheus and his

wif weren almest at the termes of the nyght

(that is to seyn, at the laste boundes of helle),

Orpheus lokede abakward on Erudyce his wif,

and lost hire, and was deed.

60 "This fable apertenith to yow alle, whosoevere

desireth or seketh to lede his

thought into the sovereyn day, that is to seyn, to

cleernesse of sovereyn good. For whoso that

evere be so overcomen that he ficche his eien

into the put of helle, that is to seyn, whoso sette

his thoughtes in erthly thinges, al that evere he

hath drawen of the noble good celestial he lesith

it, whanne he looketh the helles, that is to seyn,

into lowe thinges of the erthe.

BOOK 4

Whanne Philosophie hadde songen softly

and delitably the forseide thinges, kepynge the

dignyte of hir cheere and the weyghte of hir

wordes, I, thanne, that ne hadde nat al outrely

foryeten the wepynge and the moornynge that

was set in myn herte, forbrak the entencioun of

hir that entendede yit to seyn some othere

thinges. "O," quod I, "thou that art gyderesse

of verray light, the thinges that thou hast

10 seid me hidirto ben to me so cleer and so

schewynge by the devyne lookynge of hem,

and by thy resouns, that they ne mowen nat

ben overcomen. And thilke thinges that thou

toldest me, al be it so that I hadde whilom foryeten

hem for the sorwe of the wrong that hath

ben don to me, yet nathales thei ne weren not

al outrely unknowen to me. But this same is

namely a ryght gret cause of my sorwe: that so

as the governour of thinges is good, yif

20 that eveles mowen ben by any weyes,

or elles yif that evelis passen withouten

punysschynge. The whiche thing oonly, how

worthy it es to ben wondrid uppon, thou considerest

it wel thiselve certeynly. But yit to this

thing ther is yit another thing ijoyned more to

ben wondrid uppon: for felonye is emperisse,

and floureth ful of richesses, and vertu nis nat al

oonly withouten meedes, but it is cast undir

and fortroden undir the feet of felenous

30 folk, and it abyeth the tormentz in stede of

wikkide felouns. Of alle whiche thinges

ther nys no wyght that may merveillen ynowghe

ne compleyne that swiche thinges ben don in

the reigne of God, that alle things woot and

alle thinges may and ne wole nat but only

gode thinges."

Thanne seide sche thus: "Certes," quod sche,

"that were a greet merveille and an abaysschinge

withouten ende, and wel more horrible than

40 alle monstres, yif it were as thou wenest;

that is to seyn, that in the ryght ordene

hous of so mochel a fadir and an ordeynour of

meyne, that the vesselis that ben foule and vyl

schulden ben honoured and heryed, and the

precious vesselis schulden ben defouled and

vyl. But it nys nat so. For yif the thinges that

I have concluded a litel herebyforn ben kept

hoole and unaraced, thou schalt wel knowe by

the auctorite of God, of the whos reigne I

50 speke, that certes the gode folk ben alwey

myghty and schrewes ben alwey outcast

and feble; ne the vices ben neveremo withouten

peyne, ne the vertus ne ben nat withouten

mede; and that blisfulnesses comen alwey

to good folk, and infortune comith alwey to

wykkide folk. And thou schalt wel knowe

manye thinges of this kynde, that schullen

cesen thi pleyntis and strengthen the with stedfaste

sadnesse. And for thou hast seyn the

60 forme of the verray blisfulnesse by me that

have whilom yschewid it the, and thow

hast knowen in whom blisfulnesse is yset, alle

thingis ytreted that I trowe ben necessarie to

putten forth, I schal schewe the the weye that

schal bryngen the ayen unto thyn hous; and I

schal fycchen fetheris in thi thought, by whiche

it mai arisen in heighte; so that, alle tribulacioun

idon awey, thow, by my gyding and by

my path and by my sledys, shalt mowen

70 retourne hool and sownd into thi contree.

"I have, forthi, swifte fetheris that surmounten

the heighte of the hevene. Whanne

the swift thoght hath clothid itself in tho

fetheris, it despiseth the hateful erthes, and surmounteth

the rowndenesse of the gret ayr; and

it seth the clowdes byhynde his bak, and passeth

the heighte of the regioun of the fir, that

eschaufeth by the swifte moevynge of the firmament,

til that he areyseth hym into the

10 houses that beren the sterres, and joyneth

his weies with the sonne, Phebus, and

felawschipeth the weie of the olde colde Saturnus;

and he, imaked a knyght of the clere

sterre (that is to seyn, whan the thought is

makid Godis knyght by the sekynge of

trouthe to comen to the verray knowleche of

God) -- and thilke soule renneth by the cercle

of the sterres in alle the places there as the

schynynge nyght is ypainted (that is to

20 sey, the nyght that is cloudeles; for on

nyghtes that ben cloudeles it semeth as

the hevene were peynted with diverse ymages

of sterres). And whan [that] he hath gon there

inoghe, he schal forleten the laste point of the

hevene, and he schal pressen and wenden on

the bak of the swifte firmament, and he schal

be makid parfit of the worschipful lyght [or]

dredefulle clerenesse of God. There halt the

lord of kynges the septre of his myght and

30 atemprith the governementz of the world,

and the schynynge juge of thinges, stable in

hymself, governeth the swifte cart or wayn (that

is to seyn, the circuler moevynge of the sonne).

And yif thi wey ledeth the ayein so that thou be

brought thider, thanne wiltow seye now that

that is the contre that thou requerist, of whiche

thow ne haddest no mynde -- `but now it

remembreth me wel, here was I born, her wol

I fastne my degree, here wol I duelle.' But

40 yif the liketh thanne to looken on the

derknesse of the erthe that thou hast

forleten, thanne shaltow seen that these felonus

tirantz, that the wrecchide peple dredeth now,

schullen ben exiled fro thilke faire contre."

Thanne seide I thus: "Owh! I wondre me

that thow byhetist me so grete thinges. Ne I

ne doute nat that thou ne maist wel parforme

that thow behetist; but I preie the oonly this,

that thow ne tarie nat to telle me thilke thinges

that thou hast moevid."

"First," quod sche, "thow most nedes knowen

that good folk ben alwey strong and myghti,

and the schrewes ben feble and desert and

10 naked of alle strengthes. And of thise

thinges, certes, everiche of hem is declared

and schewed by other. For so as good and

yvel ben two contraries, yif so be that good be

stedfast, thanne scheweth the feblesse of yvel

al opynly; and yif thow knowe clerly the freelnesse

70-ch 16 of yvel, the stedfastnesse of good is

knowen. But for as moche as the fey of my

sentence schal ben the more ferme and haboundant,

I wil gon by the to weye and by the

20 tothir, and I wil conferme the thinges that

ben purposed, now on this side and now on

that side.

"Two thinges ther ben in whiche the effect of

alle the dedes of mankynde standeth (that is to

seyn, wil and power); and yif that oon of thise

two faileth, ther nys nothing that may be doon.

For yif that wille lakketh, ther nys no wyght that

undirtaketh to done that he wol nat doon; and

yif power faileth, the wil nys but in idel and

30 stant for naught. And therof cometh it that

yif thou see a wyght that wolde geten that

he mai not geten, thow maist nat douten that

power ne faileth hym to have that he wolde."

"This is open and cler," quod I, "ne it ne mai

70-ch 35 nat be denyed in no manere."

"And yif thou se a wyght," quod sche, "that

hath doon that he wolde doon, thow nilt nat

douten that he ne hath had power to doon it?"

"No," quod I.

40 "And in that that every wyght may, in

that men may holden hym myghti. (As

who seith, in so moche as a man is myghty to

doon a thing, in so mochel men halt hym

myghti.) And in that that he ne mai, in that men

demen hym to ben feble."

"I confesse it wel," quod I.

"Remembreth the," quod sche, "that I have

70-ch 48 gaderid and ischewid by forseide resouns that al

the entencioun of the wil of mankynde,

50 whiche that is lad by diverse studies,

hasteth to comen to blisfulnesse."

70-ch 52 "It remembreth me wel," quod I, "that it hath

ben schewed."

"And recordeth the nat thanne," quod sche,

"that blisfulnesse is thilke same good that men

requiren, so that whanne that blisfulnesse is

required of alle, that good also is required and

desired of alle?"

70-ch 59 "It ne recordeth me noght," quod I, "for

60 I have it gretly alwey ficched in my memorie."

"Alle folk thanne," quod sche, "goode and

eek badde, enforcen hem withoute difference of

entencioun to comen to good."

"This is a verray consequence," quod I.

"And certein is," quod sche, "that by the

70-ch 67 getynge of good ben men ymakid gode."

"This is certein," quod I.

"Thanne geten gode men that thei desiren?"

"So semeth it," quod I.

"But wikkide folk," quod sche, "yif thei geten

the good that thei desiren, thei ne mowe nat

ben wikkid."

"So is it," quod I.

"Than so as the ton and the tothir," quod

sche, "desiren good, and the gode folk geten

good and not the wikkide folk, than is it no

doute that the gode folk ne ben myghty

80 and wikkid folk ben feble."

"Whoso that evere," quod I, "douteth

of this, he ne mai nat considere the nature of

thinges ne the consequence of resouns."

"And over this," quod sche, "if that ther ben

two thinges that han o same purpos by kynde,

and that oon of hem pursuweth and performeth

thilke same thing by naturel office, and the

tother mai nat doon thilke naturel office, but

folweth, by other manere than is covenable

90 to nature, hym that acomplisseth his purpos

70-ch 91 kyndely, and yit he ne acomplisseth

nat his owene purpos -- whethir of thise two

demestow for more myghti?"

"Yif that I conjecte," quod I, "that thou wilt

seie, algates yit I desire to herkne it more

pleynly of the."

"Thou nilt nat thanne denye," quod sche,

"that the moevement of goynge nys in men by

kynde?"

100 "No, forsothe," quod I.

"Ne thou ne doutest nat," quod sche,

"that thilke naturel office of goinge ne be the

office of feet?"

"I ne doute it nat," quod I.

"Thanne," quod sche, "yif that a wight be

myghti to moeve, and goth uppon hise feet, and

another, to whom thilke naturel office of feet

lakketh, enforceth hym to gone crepinge uppon

70-ch 109 his handes, whiche of thise two oughte to

110 ben holden the more myghty by right?"

"Knyt forth the remenaunt," quod I,

"for no wight ne douteth that he that mai gon

70-ch 113 by naturel office of feet ne be more myghti than

he that ne may nat."

"But the soverein good," quod sche, "that is

eveneliche purposed to the good folk and to

badde, the gode folk seken it by naturel office of

vertus, and the schrewes enforcen hem to getin

it by diverse coveytise of erthly thinges,

70-ch 120 whiche that nys noon naturel office to gete

thilke same soverein good. Trowestow that

it be any other wise?"

"Nai," quod I, "for the consequence is opene

and schewynge of thinges that I have graunted,

70-ch 125 that nedes good folk moten be myghty, and

schrewes feble and unmyghti."

"Thou rennist aryght byforn me," quod sche,

"and this is the jugement (that is to sein, I juge

70-ch 129 of the), ryght as thise leches ben wont to

130 hopin of sike folk, whan thei aperceyven

that nature is redressed and withstondeth

to the maladye. But for I se the now al redy to

the undirstondynge, I schal schewe the more

thikke and contynuel resouns. For loke now,

how greetly scheweth the feblesse and infirmite

of wikkid folk, that ne mowen nat comen to that

hir naturel entencioun ledeth hem; and yit

almest thilke naturel entencioun constreyneth

hem. And what were to demen thanne of

140 schrewes, yif thilk naturel help hadde

forleten hem, the whiche naturel help of

70-ch 142 entencioun goth alwey byforn hem and is so gret

that unnethe it mai ben overcome? Considere

thanne how gret defaute of power and how gret

feblesse ther is in wikkide felonous folke. (As

who seith, the grettere thing that is coveyted

and the desir nat acomplissed, of the lasse

myght is he that coveyteth it and mai nat

acomplisse; and forthi Philosophie seith

150 thus be sovereyn good.) Ne schrewes ne

requeren not lighte meedes ne veyne

games, whiche thei ne mai nat folwen ne holden;

but thei failen of thilke somme and of the

heighte of thinges (that is to seyn, soverein

good). Ne these wrecches ne comen nat to the

effect of sovereyn good, the whiche thei enforcen

hem oonly to geten by nyghtes and by

70-ch 158 dayes. In the getyng of whiche good the

strengthe of good folk is ful wel yseene.

160 For ryght so as thou myghtest demen hym

myghty of goinge that goth on his feet til

70-ch 162 he myghte comen to thilke place fro the whiche

place ther ne laye no weie forthere to be gon,

ryght so mostow nedes demen hym for ryght

myghty, that geteth and atteyneth to the ende of

alle thinges that ben to desire, byyonde the

whiche ende ther nys no thing to desire. Of the

whiche power of good folk men mai conclude

70-ch 169 that the wikkide men semen to be bareyne

170 and naked of alle strengthe.

"For whi forleten thei vertus and folwen

vices? Nys it nat for that thei ne knowen nat the

godes? But what thing is more feble and more

caytif than is the blyndnesse of ignorance? Or

elles thei knowen ful wel whiche thinges that

thei oughten folwe, but lecherie and covetise

overthroweth hem mystorned. And certes so

doth distempraunce to feble men, that ne

mowen nat wrastlen ayen the vices. Ne

180 knowen thei nat thanne wel that thei

forleten the good wilfully, and turnen hem

wilfully to vices?

"And in this wise thei ne forleten nat oonly to

ben myghti, but thei forleten al outrely in any

wise for to been. For thei that forleten the

comune fyn of alle thinges that ben, thei forleten

also therwithal for to been. And peraventure

70-ch 188 it scholde seme to som folk that this were

a merveile to seien, that schrewes, whiche

190 that contenen the more partie of men, ne

ben nat ne han no beynge; but natheles it

70-ch 192 is so, and thus stant this thing. For thei that Bo4 p2 ben

schrewes I denye nat that they ben schrewes, but

I denye and seie simply and pleynly that thei ne

ben nat, ne han no beynge. For right as thou

myghtest seyn of the careyne of a man, that it

were a deed man, but thou ne myghtest nat

symply callen it a man; so graunte I wel forsothe

70-ch 199 that vicyous folk ben wikkid, but I ne may

200 nat graunten absolutly and symply that thei

ben. For thilke thing that withholdeth

ordre and kepeth nature, thilke thing es, and

hath beinge; but what thing that faileth of

that (that is to seyn, he that forleteth naturel

ordre), he forleteth thilke beinge that is set in his

70-ch 206 nature.

"But thow wolt seyn that schrewes mowen.

Certes, that ne denye I nat; but certes hir

power ne desscendeth nat of strengthe,

210 but of feblesse. For thei mowen don

wikkydnesses, the whiche thei ne myghten

nat don yif thei myghten duellen in the forme

and in the doynge of good folk. And thilke

power scheweth ful evidently that they ne

70-ch 215 mowen ryght nat. For so as I have gadrid

and proevid a litil herebyforn that evel is

nawght, and so as schrewes mowen oonly but

schrewednesses, this conclusion is al cler, that

schrewes ne mowen ryght nat, ne han no

220 power.

"And for as moche as thou undirstonde

which is the strengthe of this power of schrewes,

I have diffinysched a litil herbyforn that no thing

is so myghti as sovereyn good."

"That is soth," quod I.

"And thilke same sovereyn good may don

noon yvel?"

"Certes, no," quod I.

"Is ther any wyght thanne," quod sche,

230 "that weneth that men mowen don alle

thinges?"

"No man," quod I, "but yif he be out of his

wyt."

"But certes schrewes mowen don evel?" quod

sche.

"Ye. Wolde God," quod I, "that thei ne

myghten don noon!"

"Thanne," quod sche, "so as he that is myghty

to doon oonly but goode thinges mai doon

240 alle thinges, and thei that ben myghti to

doon yvele thinges ne mowen nat alle

thinges, thanne is it open thing and manyfest

that thei that mowen doon yvele ben of lasse

power.

"And yit to proeve this conclusioun ther

helpeth me this, that I have schewed herebyforn,

that alle power is to be noumbred among

thinges that men oughten requere; and I have

schewed that alle thinges that oughten ben

250 desired ben referred to good, ryght as to a

maner heighte of hir nature. But for to

mowen don yvel and felonye ne mai nat ben

referrid to good; thanne nys nat yvel of the

nombre of thinges that oughten ben desired.

But alle power aughte ben desired and requerid;

thanne is it open and cler that the power ne the

mowynge of schrewes nis no power.

"And of alle thise thinges it scheweth wel that

the gode folk ben certeinli myghty, and the

260 schrewes doutelees ben unmyghty. And

it is cler and opene that thilke sentence

of Plato is verray and soth, that seith that

oonly wise men may doon that thei desiren,

and schrewes mowen haunten that hem liketh,

but that thei desiren (that is to seyn, to come

to sovereyn good), thei ne han no power to

acomplissen that. For schrewes don that hem lyst

whan, by tho thinges in whiche thei deliten, thei

wenen to ateynen to thilke good that thei

270 desiren; but thei ne geten ne ateyne nat

therto, for vices ne comen nat to blisfulnesse.

"Whoso that the coverturis of hir veyn apparailes

myghte strepen of thise proude kynges,

that thow seest sitten an hye in here chayeres,

gliterynge in schynynge purpre, envyrowned

with sorwful armures, manasyng with cruel

mowth, blowynge by woodnesse of herte, he

schulde seen thanne that thilke lordis berin

withynne hir corages ful streyte cheynes. For

lecherye tormenteth hem on that o side

10 with gredy venymes; and trowblable ire,

that areyseth in hem the floodes of trowblynges,

tormenteth upon that othir side hir

thought; or sorwe halt hem wery and icawght,

or slidynge and desceyvynge hope turmenteth

hem. And therfore, syn thow seest on heved

(that is to seyn, o tiraunt) beren so manye

tyranyes, than ne doth thilke tyraunt nat that he

desireth, syn he is cast doun with so manye

wikkide lordes (that is to seyn, with so

20 manye vices that han so wikkidly lordschipes

over hym).

"Seestow nat thanne in how greet filthe thise

schrewes been iwrapped, and with which clernesse

thise gode folk schynen? In this scheweth

it wel that to good folk ne lakketh neveremo

hir meedes, ne schrewes ne lakken neveremo

turmentes. For of alle thinges that ben idoon,

thilke thing for which any thing is doon, it

semeth as by ryght that thilke thing be the

mede of that; as thus, yif a man renneth in

10 the stadye or in the forlonge for the

corone, thanne lith the mede in the coroune

for whiche he renneth. And I have schewed

that blisfulnesse is thilke same good for whiche

that alle thinges ben doon; thanne is thilke

same good purposed to the werkes of mankynde

right as a comune mede, which mede ne

may nat ben disseveryd fro good folk. For no

wight as by ryght, fro thennesforth that hym

lakketh goodnesse, ne schal ben cleped

20 good. For whiche thing folk of gode maneres,

hir medes ne forsaken hem neveremo.

For al be it so that schrewes waxen as wode

as hem lyst ayein good folk, yit natheles the

coroune of wise men ne schal nat fallen ne

faden; for foreyne schrewednesse ne bynemeth

nat fro the corages of good folk hir propre

honour. But yif that any wyght rejoysede hym

of goodnesse that he hadde taken fro withoute

(as who seith, yif any man hadde his goodnesse

30 of any other man than of hymself),

certes he that yaf hym thilke goodnesse, or

elles som other wyght, myghte benymen it

hym. But for as moche as to every wyght his

owene propre bounte yeveth hym his mede,

thanne at erste schal he failen of mede whan

he forletith to ben good. And at the laste, so

as alle medes ben requerid for men wenen that

thei ben gode, who is he that nolde deme that

he that is ryght myghti of good were partlees

40 of the mede? And of what mede schal

he ben gerdoned? Certes of ryght fair

mede and ryght greet aboven alle medes. Remembre

the of thilke noble corrolarie that I

yaf the a litel herebyforn, and gadre it togidre

in this manere: so as good [hytself] is blisfulnesse,

thanne is it cler and certein that alle

gode folk ben imaked blisful for thei ben gode;

and thilke folk that ben blisful it accordeth and

is covenable to ben goddes. Thanne is the

50 mede of good folk swych that no day ne

schal empeiren it, ne no wikkidnesse schal

derkne it, ne power of no wyght ne schal nat

amenusen it; that is to seyn, to ben maked

goddes. And syn it is thus (that gode men ne

failen neveremo of hir mede), certes no wise man

ne may doute of the undepartable peyne of

schrewes (that is to seyn, that the peyne of

schrewes ne departeth nat from hemself neveremo).

For so as good and yvel, and peyne and

60 medes, ben contrarie, it moot nedes ben

that, ryght as we seen betyden in guerdoun

of gode, that also moot the peyne of yvel answere

by the contrarie partie to schrewes. Now

thanne, so as bounte and pruesse ben the mede

to good folk, also is schrewidnesse itself torment

to schrewes. Thanne whoso that evere is

entecchid or defouled with peyne, he ne douteth

nat that he nys entecchid and defouled

with yvel. Yif schrewes thanne wol preysen

70 hemself, may it semen to hem that thei ben

withouten parti of torment, syn thei ben

swiche that the uttreste wikkidnesse (that is to

seyn, wikkide thewes, which that is the uttereste

and the worst kynde of schrewednesse)

ne defouleth ne enteccheth nat hem oonly, but

enfecteth and envenymeth hem greetly? And

also loke on schrewes, that ben the contrarie

partie of gode men, how gret peyne felawschipith

and folweth hem! For thou hast

80 lerned a litil herebyforn that alle thing that

is and hath beynge is oon, and thilke same

oon is good: than is this the consequence, that

it semeth wel that al that is and hath beynge

is good. (This is to seyn, as who seith that

beinge and unite and goodnesse is al oon.)

And in this manere it folweth thanne that alle

thing that fayleth to ben good, it stynteth for

to be and for to han any beynge. Wherfore it

es that schrewes stynten for to ben that

90 thei weeren. But thilke othir forme [of] [the]

[body] of mankynde (that is to seyn, the

[forme] withowte) scheweth yit that thise

schrewes weren whilom men. Wherfore, whan

thei ben perverted and turned into malice,

certes, thanne have thei forlorn the nature of

mankynde. But so as oonly bownte and prowesse

may enhawnsen every man over othere

men, than moot it nedes be that schrewes,

whiche that schrewednesse hath cast out of

100 the condicion of mankynde, ben put undir

the merit and the dissert of men. Than

betidith it that, yif thou seest a wyght that be

transformed into vices, thow ne mayst nat wene

that he be a man. For if he be ardaunt in avaryce,

and that he be a ravynour by violence of foreyne

richesse, thou schalt seyn that he is lik to the

wolf; and if he be felonows and withoute reste,

and exercise his tonge to chidynges, thow schalt

likne hym to the hownd; and if he be a

110 pryve awaytour yhid, and rejoiseth hym to

ravyssche be wiles, thow schalt seyn hym

lik to the fox whelpes; and yif he be distempre,

and quakith for ire, men schal wene that he

bereth the corage of a lyoun; and yif he be

dredful and fleynge, and dredith thinges that ne

aughte nat to ben dredd, men schal holden hym

lik to the hert; and yf he be slow, and astonyd,

and lache, he lyveth as an asse; yif he be lyght

and unstedfast of corage and chaungith ay

120 his studies, he is likned to briddes; and if he

be ploungid in fowle and unclene luxuris,

he is withholden in the foule delices of the fowle

sowe. Than folweth it that he that forleteth

bounte and prowesse, he forletith to ben a man;

syn he ne may nat passe into the condicion of

God, he is torned into a beeste.

"Eurus, the wynd, aryved the sayles of Ulixes,

duc of the cuntre of Narice, and his wandrynge

shippes by the see, into the ile theras

Cerces, the faire goddesse, dowhter of the

sonne, duelleth, that medleth to hir newe

gestes drynkes that ben touchid and makid

with enchauntementz. And aftir that hir hand,

myghti over the erbes, hadde chaunged hir

gestes into diverse maneres, that oon of

10 hem is coverid his face with forme of a

boor; the tother is chaungid into a lyoun

of the contre of Marmoryke, and his nayles and

his teth waxen; that oother of hem is newliche

chaunged into a wolf, and howleth whan he

wolde wepe; that other goth debonayrely in

the hows as a tigre of Inde. But al be it so

that the godhede of Mercurie, that is cleped

the bridde of Arcadye, hath had merci of the

duc Ulixes, bysegid with diverse yveles,

20 and hath unbownden hym fro the pestilence

of his oostesse, algates the rowerys

and the maryneres hadden by this idrawen into

hir mouthes and dronken the wikkide drynkes.

Thei that weren woxen swyn hadden by this

ichaunged hir mete of breed for to eten akkornes

of ookes. Noon of hir lymes ne duelleth

with hem hool, but thei han lost the voys

and the body; oonly hir thought duelleth with

hem stable, that wepeth and bywayleth the

30 monstruous chaungynge that thei suffren.

O overlyght hand! (As who seith. O

feble and light is the hand of Circes the enchaunteresse,

that chaungith the bodyes of

folk into beestes, to regard and to comparysoun

of mutacioun that is makid by vices!)

Ne the herbes of Circes ne ben nat myghty.

For al be it so that thei mai chaungen the

lymes of the body, algates yit thei may nat

chaungen the hertes. For withinne is ihidd

40 the strengthe and the vygour of men, in the

secre tour of hir hertes, (that is to seyn, the

strengthe of resoun); but thilke venyms of vices

todrawen a man to hem more myghtely than

the venym of Circes. For vices ben so cruel

that they percen and thurw-passen the corage

withinne; and, thoughe thei ne anoye nat the

body, yit vices woden to destroyen men by

wounde of thought."

Thanne seide I thus: "I confesse and am

aknowe it," quod I, "ne I ne se nat that men

may seyn as by ryght that schrewes ne ben

chaunged into beestes by the qualite of hir

soules, al be it so that thei kepin yit the forme

of the body of mankynde. But I nolde nat of

schrewes, of whiche the thought crwel woodeth

alwey into destruccion of gode men, that

it were leveful to hem to don that."

10 "Certes," quod sche, "ne it is nat leveful

to hem, as I schal wel schewen the in covenable

place. But natheles, yif so were that

thilke that men wenen ben leveful to schrewes

were bynomyn hem, so that they ne myghte

nat anoyen or doon harm to gode men, certes

a gret partie of the peyne to schrewes scholde

ben alegged and releved. For al be it so that

this ne seme nat credible thing peraventure to

some folk, yit moot it nedes be that

20 schrewes ben more wrecches and unsely

whan thei mai doon and parforme that

thei coveyten, than yif thei ne myghte nat

acomplissen that thei coveiten. For yif so

be that it be wrecchidnesse to wilne to doon

yvel, thanne is it more wrecchidnesse to mowe

don yvel, withoute whiche mowynge the wrecchid

wil scholde langwisse withouten effect.

Thanne syn that everiche of thise thinges hath his

wrecchidnesse (that is to seyn, wil to don

30 ivel and mowynge to don yvel), it moot

nedes be that schrewes ben constreyned by

thre unselynesses, that wolen, and mowen, and

parformen felonyes and schrewednesses."

"I acorde me," quod I; "but I desire gretly

that schrewes losten sone thilke unselynesses,

that is to seyn, that schrewes weren despoyled

of mowynge to don yvel."

"So schollen thei," quod sche, "sonnere peraventure

than thou woldest, or sonnere

40 than they hemselve wene. For ther nis

nothing so late, in so schorte bowndes of

this lif, that is long to abyde, nameliche to a corage

immortel. Of whiche schrewes the grete

hope and the heye compassynges of schrewednesses

is ofte destroyed by a sodeyn ende, or

thei ben war; and that thing establisseth to

schrewes the ende of hir schrewednesse. For

yf that schrewednesse makith wrecches, than

mot he nedes ben moost wrecchide that

50 lengest is a schrewe. The whiche wikkide

schrewes wolde I demen althermost unsely

and kaytifs, yif that hir schrewednesse ne were

fynissched at the leste weye by the owtreste

deth; for yif I have concluded soth of the unselynesse

of schrewednesse, thanne schewith it

clerly that thilke wrecchidnesse is withouten

ende the whiche is certein to ben perdurable."

"Certes," quod I, "this conclusioun is hard and

wondirful to graunte; but I knowe wel

60 that it accordeth moche to the thinges that

I have grauntid herebiforn."

"Thou hast," quod sche, "the ryght estimacion

of this. But whosoevere wene that it be

an hard thing to accorde hym to a conclusioun,

it is ryght that he schewe that some

of the premysses ben false, or elles he mot

schewe that the collacioun of proposicions

nis nat spedful to a necessarie conclusioun;

and yif it ne be nat so, but that the premisses

70 ben ygraunted, ther nys nat why he

scholde blame the argument. For this thing

that I schal telle the now ne schal nat seme

lesse wondirful, but of the thingis that ben

taken also it is necessarie." (As who seith, it

folweth of that which that is purposed byforn.)

"What is that?" quod I.

"Certes," quod sche, "that is that thise wikkid

schrewes ben more blisful, or elles

80 lasse wrecches, that abyen the tormentz

that thei han desservid, than if no peyne of

justise ne chastisede hem. Ne this ne seie I

nat now for that any man myghte thinke that

the maneris of schrewes ben coriged and chastised

by vengeaunce and that thei ben brought

to the ryghte weye by the drede of the torment,

ne for that they yeven to other folk ensaumple

to fleen fro vices; but I undirstonde yit in another

manere that schrewes ben more unsely

90 whan thei ne ben nat punyssched, al

be it so that ther ne be hadde no resoun or

lawe of correccioun, ne noon ensample of

lokynge."

"And what manere schal that be," quod I,

"other than hath ben told herbyforn?"

"Have we nat thanne graunted," quod sche,

"that good folk ben blisful and schrewes ben

wrecches?"

"Yis," quod I.

100 "Thanne," quod sche, "yif that any good

were added to the wrecchidnesse of any

wyght, nis he nat more blisful than he that

ne hath no medlynge of good in his solitarie

wrecchidnesse?"

"So semeth it," quod I.

"And what seistow thanne," quod sche, "of

thilke wrecche that lakketh alle goodes so that

no good nys medlyd in his wrecchidnesse,

and yit over al his wikkidnesse, for which

110 he is a wrecche, that ther be yit another

yvel anexed and knyt to hym -- schal nat

men demen hym more unsely thanne thilke

wrecche of whiche the unselynesse is relevid by

the participacioun of som good?"

"Why sholde he nat?" quod I.

"Thanne certes," quod sche, "han schrewes,

whan thei ben punyschid, somwhat of good

anexid to hir wrecchidnesse (that is to seyn, the

same peyne that thei suffren, which that is

120 good by the resoun of justice); and whanne

thilke same schrewes ascapen withouten

torment, than han they somwhat more of yvel

yit over the wikkidnesse that thei han don, that

is to seyn, defaute of peyne, whiche defaute of

peyne thou hast grauntid is yvel for the disserte

of felonye?"

"I ne may nat denye it," quod I.

"Moche more thanne," quod sche, "ben

schrewes unsely whan thei ben wrongfully

130 delivred fro peyne, thanne whan thei

ben punyschid by ryghtful vengeaunce.

But this is opene thing and cleer, that it is ryght

that schrewes ben punyschid, and it is wikkidnesse

and wrong that thei escapen unpunyschid."

"Who myghte denye that?" quod I.

"But," quod sche, "may any man denye that

al that is ryght nis good, and also the contrarie,

that al that is wrong is wikke?"

140 "Certes," quod I, "thise thinges ben

clere ynowe, and [folwen that] that we han

concluded a lytel herebyforn. But I preye the

that thow telle me, yif thow accordest to leten

no torment to the soules aftir that the body is

ended by the deeth?" (This to seyn, "Undirstondestow

aught that soules han any

torment aftir the deeth of the body?")

"Certes," quod sche, "ye, and that ryght

greet. Of whiche soules," quod sche, "I

150 trowe that some ben tormented by asprenesse

of peyne, and some soules I trowe

ben excercised by a purgynge mekenesse; but

my conseil nys nat to determyne of thise peynes.

"But I have travailed and told yit hiderto for

thou scholdest knowe that the mowynge of

schrewes, whiche mowynge the semeth to ben

unworthy, nis no mowynge; and ek of schrewes,

of whiche thou pleynedest that they ne were nat

punysschid, that thow woldest seen that

160 thei ne were neveremo withouten the

tormentz of hir wikkidnesse; and of the

licence of mowynge to don yvel that thou

preyedest that it myghte sone ben ended, and

that thou woldest fayn lernen that it ne sholde

nat longe endure, and that schrewes ben more

unsely yif thei were of lengere durynge, and

most unsely yif thei weren perdurable. And aftir

this I have schewyd the that more unsely ben

schrewes whan thei escapen withouten hir

170 ryghtful peyne thanne whan thei ben

punyschid by ryghtful venjaunce; and of

this sentence folweth it that thanne ben schrewes

constreyned at the laste with most grevous

torment, whan men wene that thei ne ben nat

punyssched."

"Whan I considere thi resouns," quod I, "I ne

trowe nat that men seyn any thing more

verrayly. And yif I turne ayein to the studies of

men, who is he to whom it sholde seme that

180 he ne scholde nat oonly leven thise thinges,

but ek gladly herkne hem?"

"Certes," quod sche, "so it es -- but men may

nat. For they have hir eien so wont to the

derknesse of erthly thinges that they ne may nat

lyften hem up to the light of cler sothfastnesse,

but thei ben lyk to briddes of whiche the nyght

lightneth hir lokynge and the day blendith hem.

For whan men loke nat the ordre of thinges, but

hir lustes and talentz, they wene that either

190 the leve or the mowynge to don wikkidnesse,

or elles the scapynge withouten

peyne be weleful.

"But considere the jugement of the perdurable

lawe. For yif thou conferme thi corage to the

beste thinges, thow ne hast noon nede of no juge

to yeven the prys or mede; for thow hast joyned

thiself to the most excellent thing. And yif thow

have enclyned thi studies to the wikkide thinges,

ne seek no foreyne wrekere out of thiself;

200 for thow thiself hast thrist thiself into wikke

thinges, ryght as thow myghtest loken by

diverse tymes the fowle erthe and the hevene,

and that alle othere thinges stynten fro withoute,

so that thow nere neyther in [hevene] ne in

erthe, ne saye no thyng more; thanne scholde it

semen to the as by oonly resoun of lokynge that

thow were now in the sterres, and now in the

erthe. But the peple ne loketh nat on these

thinges. What thanne? Schal we thanne

210 approchen us to hem that I have schewed

that thei ben lyke to beestes? And what

wyltow seyn of this: yif that a man hadde al

forlorn his syghte, and hadde foryeten that he

evere sawhe, and wende that no thing ne faylede

hym of perfeccioun of mankynde; now we that

myghten sen the same thinges -- wolde we nat

wene that he were blynd? Ne also ne accordeth

nat the peple to that I schal seyn, the whiche

thing is sustenyd by as stronge foundementz

220 of resouns, that is to seyn, that

more unsely ben they that doon wrong to

othere folk, than they that the wrong suffren."

"I wolde here thilke same resouns," quod I.

"Denyestow," quod sche, "that alle schrewes

ne ben worthy to han torment?"

"Nay," quod I.

"But," quod sche, "I am certein by many

resouns that schrewes ben unsely."

"It accordeth," quod I.

230 "Thanne ne dowtestow nat," quod sche,

"that thilke folk that ben worthy of

torment, that they ne ben wrecches?"

"It accordeth wel," quod I.

"Yif thou were thanne iset a juge or a

knowere of thinges, whethir trowestow that men

scholden tormenten, hym that hath don the

wrong or elles hym that hath suffred the

wrong?"

"I ne doute nat," quod I, "that I nolde

240 doon suffisaunt satisfaccioun to hym that

hadde suffrid the wrong, by the sorwe of

hym that hadde doon the wrong."

"Thanne semeth it," quod sche, "that the

doere of wrong is more wrecche than he that

hath suffride wrong?"

"That folweth wel," quod I.

"Than," quod sche, "by thise causes and by

othere causes that ben enforced by the same

roote, that filthe [of] synne be the propre

250 nature of it maketh men wrecches, [it]

scheweth wel that the wrong that men

doon nis nat the wrecchidnesse of hym that

resceyveth the wrong, but the wrecchidnesse of

hym that dooth the wrong. But certes," quod

sche, "thise oratours or advocattes don al the

contrarie; for thei enforcen hem to commoeve

the juges to han pite of hem that han suffrid

and resceyved the thinges that ben grevous

and aspre, and yit men scholden more

260 ryghtfully han pite of hem that doon the

grevances and the wronges: the whiche

schrewes it were a more covenable thing that the

accusours or advocattes, nat wrooth but pytous

and debonayre, ledden tho schrewes that han

don wrong to the jugement ryght as men leden

syke folk to the leche, for that thei sholden seken

out the maladyes of synne by torment. And

by this covenant, eyther the entent of the

deffendours or advocatz sholde fayle and

270 cesen in al, or elles, yif the office of

advocatz wolde betre profiten to men, it

sholde be torned into the habyte of accusacioun.

(That is to seyn, thei scholden accuse

schrewes, and nat excusen hem.) And eek the

schrewes hemself, yif it were leveful to hem to

seen at any clifte the vertu that thei han forleten,

and sawen that they scholden putten adoun the

filthes of hir vices by the tormentz of peynes,

they ne aughten nat, ryght for the

280 recompensacioun for to geten hem bounte

and prowesse whiche that thei han lost,

demen ne holden that thilke peynes weren

tormentz to hem; and eek thei wolden refuse the

attendaunce of hir advocattz, and taken hemself

to hir juges and to hir accusours. For whiche it

betydeth that, as to the wise folk, ther nis no

place yleten to hate (that is to seyn, that hate

ne hath no place among wise men); for no

wyght nil haten gode men, but yif he were

290 overmochel a fool, and for to haten

schrewes it nis no resoun. For ryght so as

langwissynge is maladye of body, ryght so ben

vices and synne maladye of corage; and so as we

ne deme nat that they that ben sike of hir body

ben worthy to ben hated, but rather worthy of

pite; wel more worthy nat to ben hated, but

for to ben had in pite, ben thei of whiche

the thoughtes ben constreyned by felonous

wikkidnesse, that is more crwel than any

300 langwissynge of body.

"What deliteth yow to exciten so grete moevynges

of hatredes, and to hasten and bysien

the fatal disposicioun of your deth with your

propre handes (that is to seyn, by batayles or

contek)? For yif ye axen the deth, it hasteth

hym of his owene wil, ne deth ne taryeth nat

his swifte hors. And the men that the serpent,

and the lyoun, and the tigre, and the

bere, and the boor, seken to sleen with hir

10 teeth, yit thilke same men seken to sleen

everiche of hem oothir with swerd. Lo, for

hir maneres ben diverse and discordaunt, thei

moeven unryghtful oostes and cruel batayles,

and wilnen to perise by entrechaungynge of

dartes! But the resoun of cruelte nis nat inowhe

ryghtful. Wiltow thanne yelden a covenable

gerdoun to the dissertes of men? Love ryghtfully

good folk, and have pite on schrewes."

"Thus se I wel," quod I, "eyther what blisfulnesse

or elles what unselynesse is establisshid

in the dissertes of gode men and of

schrewes. But in this ilke fortune of peple I

se somwhat of good and somwhat of yvel. For

no wise man hath nat levere ben exiled, pore

and nedy and nameles, thanne for to duellen

in his cyte, and flouren of rychesses, and be

redowtable by honour and strong of power.

10 For in this wise more clerly and more witnesfully

is the office of wise men ytreted,

whanne the blisfulnesse and the pouste of

gouvernours is, as it ware, ischadde among peples

that ben neyghbors and subgitz; syn that

namely prisown, lawe, and thise othere tormentz

of laweful peynes ben rather owed to

felonus citezeins, for the whiche felonus citezeens

tho peynes ben establisschid than for

good folk.

20 "Thanne I merveile me gretly," quod I,

"why that the thinges ben so mysentrechaunged

that tormentz of felonyes pressen and

confounden good folk, and schrewes ravysschen

medes of vertu and ben in honours

and in grete estatz; and I desire eek for to

witen of the what semeth the to be the resoun

of this so wrongful a confusioun; for I wolde

wondre wel the lasse, yif I trowede that alle

thise thinges weren medled by fortunows

30 hap. But now hepith and encreseth myn

astonyenge God, governour of thinges,

that, so as God yyveth ofte tymes to gode men

godes and myrthes, and to schrewes yvelis and

aspre thinges, and yeveth ayeinward to good

folk hardnesses, and to schrewes he graunteth

hem hir wil and that they desiren -- what difference

thanne may ther be bytwixen that that

God doth and the hap of fortune, yif men ne

knowe nat the cause why that it is?"

40 "Ne it nis no merveile," quod sche,

"thowh that men wenen that ther be somwhat

foolisshe and confus, whan the resoun of

the ordre is unknowe. But although that thou

ne knowe nat the cause of so gret a disposicioun,

natheles for as moche as God, the gode

governour, atempreth and governeth the world,

ne doute the nat that alle thinges ne ben don

aryght.

"Whoso that ne knowe nat the sterres of

Arctour, ytorned neyghe to the sovereyne centre

or poynt (that is to seyn, ytorned neyghe to

the sovereyne pool of the firmament), and wot

nat why the sterre Boetes passeth or gadreth

his waynes and drencheth his late flaumbes in

the see; and whi that Boetes, the sterre, unfooldeth

hise overswifte arysynges, thanne schal

he wondryn of the lawe of the heie eyr.

10 And eek yif that he ne knowe nat why that

the hornes of the fulle mone waxen pale

and infect by bowndes of the derk nyght, and

how the mone derk and confus discovereth the

sterres that sche hadde covered by hir clere

vysage. The comune errour moeveth folk, and

[the Coribantes maken hir tabours sounen and

maken] weery hir basyns of bras by thikke

strokes. (That is to seyn, that ther is a maner

peple that hyghte Coribantes, that wenen

20 that whan the mone is in the eclips that

it be enchaunted, and therfore for to

rescowe the mone thei betyn hir basyns with

thikke strokes.) Ne no man ne wondreth

whanne the blastes of the wynd Chorus beten

the strondes of the see by quakynge floodes; ne

no man ne wondrith whan the weighte of the

snowh, ihardid by the cold, is resolvyd by the

brennynge hete of Phebus, the sonne; for her

seen men redily the causes. But [ther] the

30 causes yhidd (that is to seyn, in hevene)

trowblen the brestes of men. The

moevable peple is astoned of alle thinges that

comen seelde and sodeynly in our age; but yif

the trubly errour of our ignoraunce departed fro

us, so that we wisten the causes why that swiche

thinges bytyden, certes thei scholde cesen to

seme wondres."

"Thus is it," quod I. "But so as thou hast

yeven or byhyght me to unwrappen the hidde

causes of thinges, and to discovere me the

resouns covered with derknes, I preie the that

thou devyse and juge me of this matere, and

that thou do me to undirstonden it. For this

miracle or this wonder trowbleth me ryght

gretly."

And thanne sche, a litelwhat smylinge,

10 seide: "Thou clepist me," quod sche, "to

telle thing that is gretteste of alle thingis

that mowen ben axed, and to the whiche questioun

unethes is ther aught inowh to laven

it. (As who seith, unnethes is ther suffisauntly

any thing to answeren parfitly to thy questioun.)

For the matere of it is swich, that

whan o doute is determined and kut awey, ther

waxen othere doutes withoute nombre, ryght

as the hevedes wexen of Idre, the serpent

20 that Hercules slowh. Ne ther ne were no

manere ne noon ende, but if that a wyght

constreynede tho doutes by a ryght lifly and

quyk fir of thought (that is to seyn, by vigour

and strengthe of wit). For in this matere

men weren wont to maken questiouns of the

symplicite of the purveaunce of God, and of

the ordre of destyne, and of sodeyn hap, and

of the knowynge and predestinacioun devyne,

and of the liberte of fre wil; the whiche

30 thinges thou thiself aperceyvest wel of

what weighte thei ben. But for as moche

as the knowynge of thise thinges is a maner

porcioun of the medycyne to the, al be it so

that I have litil tyme to doon it, yit natheles

Y wol enforcen me to schewe somwhat of it.

But although the noryssynges of dite of musyk

deliteth the, thou most suffren and forberen a

litel of thilke delit, whil that I weve to the resouns

yknyt by ordre."

40 "As it liketh to the," quod I, "so do."

Tho spak sche ryght as by another bygynnynge,

and seide thus: "The engendrynge

of alle thinges," quod sche, "and alle the progressiouns

of muable nature, and al that moeveth

in any manere, taketh hise causes, his ordre,

and his formes, of the stablenesse of the devyne

thought. And thilke devyne thought that

is iset and put in the tour (that is to seyn, in

the heighte) of the simplicite of God, stablissith

50 many maner gises to thinges that ben

to done; the whiche manere whan that

men looken it in thilke pure clennesse of the

devyne intelligence, it is ycleped purveaunce;

but whanne thilke manere is referred by men

to thinges that it moeveth and disponyth, than

of olde men it was clepyd destyne. The whiche

thinges yif that any wyght loketh wel in his

thought the strengthe of that oon and of that

oothir, he schal lyghtly mowen seen that

60 thise two thinges ben dyvers. For purveaunce

is thilke devyne resoun that is establissed

in the sovereyn prince of thinges, the

whiche purveaunce disponith alle thinges; but,

certes, destyne is the disposicioun and ordenance

clyvynge to moevable thinges, by the

whiche disposicion the purveaunce knytteth

alle thingis in hir ordres; for purveaunce enbraceth

alle thinges to-hepe, althoghe that thei

ben diverse and although thei ben infinit.

70 But destyne, certes, departeth and ordeyneth

alle thinges singulerly and devyded in

moevynges in places, in formes, in tymes, as

thus: lat the unfoldynge of temporel ordenaunce,

assembled and oonyd in the lokynge

of the devyne thought, be cleped purveaunce,

and thilke same assemblynge and oonynge, devyded

and unfolden by tymes, lat that ben

called destyne.

"And al be it so that thise thinges ben

80 diverse, yit natheles hangeth that oon of

that oother; forwhi the ordre destynal

procedith of the simplicite of purveaunce. For

ryght as a werkman that aperceyveth in his

thought the forme of the thing that he wol make,

and moeveth the effect of the werk, and ledith

that he hadde lookid byforn in his thought

symplely and presently by temporel ordenaunce;

certes, ryght so God disponith in his

purveaunce singulerly and stablely the

90 thinges that ben to doone; but he

amynistreth in many maneris and in diverse

tymes by destyne thilke same thinges that he

hath disponyd. Thanne, whethir that destyne be

exercised outhir by some devyne spiritz,

servantz to the devyne purveaunce, or elles by

some soule, or elles by alle nature servynge to

God, or elles by the celestial moevynges of

sterres, or ellis by vertu of aungelis, or elles by

divers subtilite of develis, or elles by any of

100 hem, or elles by hem alle the destinal

ordenaunce is ywoven and acomplissid,

certes, it es opene thing that the purveaunce is

an unmoevable and symple forme of thinges

to doone, and the moevable bond and the

temporel ordenaunce of thinges whiche that the

devyne symplicite of purveaunce hath ordeyned

to doone, that is destyne.

"For whiche it is that alle thinges that ben

put undir destyne ben certes subgitz to

110 purveaunce, to whiche purveaunce destyne

itself is subgit and under. But some thinges

ben put undir purveaunce, that sourmounten

the ordenance of destyne; and tho ben thilke

that stablely ben ifycchid neyghe to the first

godhede. They surmounten the ordre of

destynal moevablete. For ryght as of cerklis that

tornen aboute a same centre or aboute a poynt,

thilke cerkle that is innerest or most withinne

joyneth to the symplesse of the myddle,

120 and is, as it were, a centre or a poynt to the

tothere cerklis that tornen abouten hym;

and thilke that is utterest, compased by a largere

envyrownynge, is unfolden by largere spaces in

so moche as it is ferthest fro the myddel

symplicite of the poynt; and yif ther be any thing

that knytteth and felawschipeth hymself to thilke

myddel poynt, it is constreyned into simplicite

(that is to seyn, into unmoevablete), and it

ceseth to ben schad and to fleten diversely;

130 ryght so, by semblable reson, thilke thing

that departeth ferrest fro the firste thought

of God, it is unfolden and summittid to grettere

bondes of destyne; and in so moche is the thing

more fre and laus fro destyne, as it axeth and

hooldeth hym neer to thilke centre of thinges

(that is to seyn, to God); and yif the thing

clyveth to the stedfastnesse of the thought of

God and be withoute moevynge, certes it

surmounteth the necessite of destyne.

140 Thanne ryght swich comparysoun as is of

skillynge to undirstondyng, and of thing

that ys engendrid to thing that is, and of tyme to

eternite, and of the cercle to the centre; ryght so

is the ordre of moevable destyne to the stable

symplicite of purveaunce.

"Thilke ordenaunce moveth the hevene and

the sterres, and atemprith the elementz togidre

amonges hemself, and transformeth hem by

entrechaungeable mutacioun. And thilke

150 same ordre neweth ayein alle thinges

growynge and fallynge adoun, by semblable

progressions of sedes and of sexes (that

is to seyn, male and femele). And this ilke

ordre constreyneth the fortunes and the dedes of

men by a bond of causes nat able to ben

unbownde; the whiche destynal causes, whan

thei passen out fro the bygynnynges of the

unmoevable purveaunce, it moot nedes be that

thei ne be nat mutable. And thus ben the

160 thinges ful wel igoverned yif that the

symplicite duellynge in the devyne thoght

scheweth forth the ordre of causes unable to ben

ibowed. And this ordre constreyneth by his

propre stablete the moevable thingis, or elles

thei scholden fleten folyly.

"For whiche it es that alle thingis semen to

ben confus and trouble to us men, for we ne

mowen nat considere thilke ordenaunce.

Natheles the propre maner of every thing,

170 dressynge hem to gode, disponith hem alle,

for ther nys no thing doon for cause of yvel,

ne thilk thing that is doon by wikkid folk nys nat

doon for yvel, the whiche schrewes, as I have

schewed ful plentyvously, seken good, but

wikkid errour mystorneth hem; ne the ordre

comynge fro the poynt of sovereyn good ne

declyneth nat fro his bygynnynge.

"But thou mayst seyn, `What unreste may ben

a worse confusioun than that gode men

180 han somtyme adversite and somtyme

prosperite, and schrewes also han now

thingis that they desiren and now thinges that

thei haten?' Whethir men lyven now in swich

holnesse of thought (as who seith, ben men now

so wyse) that swiche folk as thei demen to ben

gode folk or schrewes, that it moste nedes ben

that folk ben swiche as thei wenen? But in this

manere the domes of men discorden, that thilke

men that som folk demen worthy of mede,

190 other folk demen hem worthy of torment.

But lat us graunten, I pose, that som man

may wel demen or knowen the good folk and

the badde; may he thanne knowen and seen

thilke innereste atempraunce of corages as it

hath ben wont to ben seyd of bodyes? (As who

seith, may a man speken and determinen of

atempraunce in corages, as men were wont to

demen or speken of complexions and atempraunces

of bodies?) Ne it ne is nat an

200 unlike miracle to hem that ne knowen it nat

(as who seith, but it is lik a mervayle or

miracle to hem that ne knowen it nat) whi

that swete thinges ben covenable to some bodies

that ben hole, and to some bodies byttere

thinges ben covenable; and also why that some

syk folk ben holpen with lyghte medicynes, and

some folk ben holpen with sharpe medicynes.

But natheles the leche, that knoweth the manere

and the atempraunce of hele and of

210 maladye, ne merveyleth of it nothyng. But

what othir thing semeth hele of corages but

bounte and prowesse? And what othir thing

semeth maladye of corages but vices? Who is

elles kepere of good or dryvere awey of yvel but

God, governour and lechere of thoughtes? The

whiche God, whan he hath byholden from the

hye tour of his purveaunce, he knoweth what is

covenable to every wight, and lenyth hem that

he woot that is covenable to hem. Lo, herof

220 comyth and herof is don this noble miracle

of the ordre destynal, whan God, that al

knoweth, dooth swiche thing, of whiche thing

unknowynge folk ben astonyd.

"But for to constreyne (as who seith, but for

to comprehende and to telle) a fewe thingis of

the devyne depnesse the whiche that mannys

resoun may undirstonde, thilke man that thow

wenest to ben ryght just and ryght kepynge of

equite, the contrarie of that semeth to the

230 devyne purveaunce, that al woot. And

Lucan, my famylier, telleth that the

victorious cause likide to the goddes, and the

cause overcomen likide to Catoun. Thanne

whatsoevere thou mayst seen that is doon in this

world unhopid or unwened, certes it es the

ryghte ordre of thinges, but as to thi wikkid

opynioun it is a confusioun. But I suppose that

som man be so wel ithewed that the devyne

jugement and the jugement of mankynde

240 accorden hem togidre of hym; but he is so

unstidfast of corage that, yif any adversite

come to hym, he wol forleten peraventure to

continue innocence by the whiche he ne may

nat withholden fortune. Thanne the wise

dispensacion of God sparith hym, the whiche

man adversite myghte enpeyren; for that God

wol nat suffren hym to travaile to whom that

travaile nis nat covenable. Anothir man is parfit

in alle vertus, and is an holi man and neigh

250 to God, so that the purveaunce of God

wolde deme that it were a felonie that he

were touched with any adversites; so that he wol

nat suffre that swich a man be moeved with any

bodily maladye. But so as seyde a philosophre,

the more excellent by me -- he seyde in Grec

that `vertues han edified the body of the holi

man.'

"And ofte tyme it betydeth that the somme of

thingis that ben to done is taken to governe

260 to good folk, for that the malice

haboundaunt of schrewes scholde ben

abated. And God yeveth and departeth to other

folk prosperites and adversites imedled to-hepe

aftir the qualite of hir corages, and remordith

some folk by adversite, for thei ne scholden nat

waxen proude by long welefulnesse; and other

folk he suffreth to ben travailed with harde

thinges for that thei scholden confermen the

vertues of corage by the usage and the

270 exercitacioun of pacience. And other folk

dreden more than thei oughten the whiche

thei myghte wel beren, and thilke folk God

ledeth into experience of hemself by aspre and

sorweful thingis. And many other folk han

bought honourable renoun of this world by the

prys of glorious deth; and som men, that ne

mowen nat ben overcomen by torment, han

yeven ensample to other folk that vertu mai nat

ben overcomyn by adversites. And of alle

280 thise thinges ther nis no doute that thei ne

ben doon ryghtfully and ordeynly, to the

profit of hem to whom we seen thise thingis

betyde.

"For certes, that adversite cometh somtyme to

schrewes and somtyme that that they desiren, it

comith of thise forseyde causes. And of sorweful

thinges that betyden to schrewes, certes, no man

ne wondreth. for alle men wenen that thei han

wel desservid it, and that thei ben of wykkid

290 meryt. Of whiche schrewes the torment

somtyme agasteth othere to don felonyes,

and somtyme it amendeth hem that suffren the

tormentz; and the prosperite that is yeven to

schrewes scheweth a gret argument to good

folk what thing thei scholde demen of thilke

welefulnesse, the whiche prosperite men seen

ofte serven to schrewes. In the whiche thing I

trowe that God dispenseth. For peraventure the

nature of som man is so overthrowynge to

300 yvel, and so uncovenable, that the nedy

poverte of his houshold myghte rather

egren hym to don felonyes; and to the maladye

of hym God putteth remedye to yeven hym

rychesses. And som othir man byholdeth his

conscience defouled with synnes, and makith

comparysoun of his fortune and of hymself, and

dredith peraventure that his blisfulnesse, of

whiche the usage is joyeful to hym, that the

lesynge of thilke blisfulnesse ne be nat

310 sorwful to hym; and therfore he wol

chaunge his maneris, and, for he dredith to

lesen his fortune, he forletith his wikkidnesse.

To other folke is welefulnesse iyeven unworthely,

the whiche overthroweth hem into

destruccioun, that thei han disservid; and to som

othir folk is yeven power to punysshen, for

that it schal be cause of contynuacioun and

exercisynge to good folk, and cause of torment

to schrewes. For so as ther nis noon

320 alliaunce bytwixe good folk and schrewes,

ne schrewes ne mowen nat acorden among

hemself. And whi nat? For schrewes discorden

of hemself by hir vices, the whiche vices al

toreenden her consciences, and doon ofte time

thinges the whiche thingis, whan thei han doon

hem, they demen that tho thinges ne scholden

nat han ben doon.

"For whiche thing thilke sovereyne purveaunce

hath makid ofte tyme fair

330 myracle, so that schrewes han makid

schrewes to ben gode men. For whan that

some schrewes seen that they suffren wrongfully

felonyes of othere schrewes, they wexen

eschaufed into hate of hem that anoyed hem,

and retornen to the fruyt of vertu, whan thei

studien to ben unlyke to hem that thei han hated.

Certis oonly this is the devyne myght to the

whiche myghte yvelis ben thanne gode whan it

useth the yvelis covenably and draweth out

340 the effect of any good. (As who seith that

yvel is good only to the myghte of God, for

the myght of God ordeyneth thilke yvel to

good.)

"For oon ordre enbraseth alle thinges, so that

what wyght that departeth fro the resoun of

thilke ordre whiche that is assigned to hym,

algatis yit he slideth into an othir ordre; so that

no thing nis leveful to folye in the reaume of the

devyne purveaunce (as who seith, no

350 thing nis withouten ordenaunce in the

reame of the devyne purveaunce), syn that

the ryght strong God governeth alle thinges in

this world. For it nis nat leveful to man to

comprehenden by wit, ne unfolden by word,

alle the subtil ordenaunces and disposiciounis of

the devyne entente. For oonly it owghte suffise

to han lokid that God hymself, makere of alle

natures, ordeineth and dresseth alle thingis to

gode; whil that he hasteth to withholden

360 the thingis that he hath makid into his

semblaunce (that is to seyn, for to withholden

thingis into gode, for he hymself is

good), he chasith out alle yvel fro the boundes

of his comynalite by the ordre of necessite

destinable. For whiche it folweth that, yif thou

loke the purveaunce ordeynynge the thinges

that men wenen ben outraious or haboundaunt

in erthis, thou ne schalt nat seen in no place no

thing of yvel.

370 "But I se now that thou art charged with

the weyghte of the questioun, and wery

with the lengthe of my resoun, and that thou

abydest som swetnesse of songe. Tak thanne this

drawght, and, whanne thou art wel reffressched

and refect, thou schalt be more stedfast to stye

into heyere questions or thinges.

"Yif thou, wys, wilt demen in thi pure thought

the ryghtes or the lawes of the heye thondrere

(that is to seyn, of God), loke thou and byhoold

the heightes of the sovereyn hevene.

Ther kepin the sterres, be ryghtful alliaunce of

thinges, hir oolde pees. The sonne, imoevid by

his rody fyr, ne distorbeth nat the colde cercle

of the mone. Ne the sterre yclepid the Bere,

that enclyneth his ravysschynge coursis

10 abowte the sovereyn heighte of the world

-- ne the same sterre Ursa nis nevere mo

wasschen in the depe westrene see, ne coveyteth

nat to deeyen his flaumbes in the see

of the Occian, although it see othere sterres

iplowngid in the see. And Hesperus the sterre

bodith and telleth alwey the late nyghtes, and

Lucyfer the sterre bryngeth ayein the clere

day.

"And thus maketh Love entrechaungeable

20 the perdurable courses; and thus is discordable

bataile yput out of the contre of

the sterres. This accordaunce atempryth by evenelyke

maneres the elementz, that the moiste

thingis, stryvynge with the drye thingis, yeven

place by stoundes; and that the colde thingis

joynen hem by feyth to the hote thingis; and

that the lyghte fyr ariseth into heighte, and

the hevy erthes avalen by her weyghtes. By

thise same causes the floury yer yeldeth

30 swote smelles in the first somer sesoun

warmynge; and the hote somer dryeth the

cornes; and autumpne comith ayein hevy of

apples; and the fletyng reyn bydeweth the

wynter. This atempraunce norysscheth and

bryngeth forth alle thinges that brethith lif

in this world; and thilke same attempraunce,

ravysschynge, hideth and bynymeth, and

drencheth undir the laste deth, alle thinges

iborn.

40 "Among thise thinges sitteth the heye

makere, kyng and lord, welle and bygynnynge,

lawe and wys juge to don equite, and

governeth and enclyneth the brydles of thinges.

And tho thinges that he stireth to gon by

moevynge, he withdraweth and aresteth, and

affermeth the moevable or wandrynge thinges.

For yif that he ne clepide nat ayein the ryght

goynge of thinges, and yif that he ne constreynede

hem nat eftsones into roundnesses

50 enclyned, the thinges that ben now

contynued by stable ordenaunce, thei scholden

departen from hir welle (that is to seyn,

from hir bygynnynge), and failen (that is to

seyn, tornen into noght). This is the comune

love to alle thingis, and alle thinges axen to ben

holden by the fyn of good. For elles ne

myghten they nat lasten yif thei ne comen nat

eftsones ayein, by love retorned, to the cause

that hath yeven hem beinge (that is to

60 seyn, to God).

"Sestow nat thanne what thing folweth alle

the thingis that I have seyd?"

"What thing?" quod I.

"Certes," quod sche, "al outrely that alle fortune

is good."

"And how may that be?" quod I.

"Now undirstand," quod sche. "So as al fortune,

whethir so it be joyeful fortune or aspre

fortune, is yeven eyther by cause of gerdonynge

10 or elles of exercisynge of good

folk or elles by cause to punysschen or elles

chastisen schrewes; thanne is alle fortune good,

the whiche fortune is certeyn that it be either

ryghtful or elles profitable."

"Forsothe this is a ful verray resoun," quod

I; "and yif I considere the purveaunce and the

destyne that thou taughtest me a litel herebyforn

this sentence is sustenyd by stedfast

resouns. But yif it like unto the, lat us

20 nombren [hyt] amonges thilke thingis, of

whiche thow seydest a litel herebyforn that

thei ne were nat able to ben wened to the

peple."

"Why so?" quod sche.

"For that the comune word of men," quod I,

"mysuseth this manere speche of fortune, and

seyn ofte tymes that the fortune of som wyght

is wikkid."

"Woltow thanne," quod sche, "that I approche

30 a litil to the wordis of the peple,

so that it seme nat to hem that I be overmoche

departed as fro the usage of mankynde?"

"As thou wilt," quod I.

"Demestow nat," quod sche, "that alle thing

that profiteth is good?"

"Yis," quod I.

"And certes thilke thing that exerciseth or

corrigith profitith?"

"I confesse it wel," quod I.

40 "Thanne is it good," quod sche.

"Why nat?" quod I.

"But this is the fortune," quod sche, "of hem

that eyther ben put in vertu and batayllen

ayein aspre thingis, or elles of hem that eschuen

and declynen fro vices and taken the

weye of vertu."

"This ne mai I nat denye," quod I.

"But what seistow of the merye fortune that

is yeven to good folk in gerdoun -- demeth

50 aught the peple that it is wikkid?"

"Nay forsothe," quod I; "but thei

demen, as it soth is, that it is ryght good."

"And what seistow of that othir fortune,"

quod sche, "that, although it be aspre and

restreyneth the schrewes by ryghtful torment,

weneth aught the peple that it be good?"

"Nay," quod I, "but the peple demeth that

it is moost wrecchid of alle thingis that mai

ben thought."

60 "War now and loke wel," quod sche,

"lest that we, in folwynge the opynioun of

the peple, have confessid and concluded thing

that is unable to be wened to the peple."

"What is that?" quod I.

"Certis," quod sche, "it folweth or comith of

thingis that ben grauntid that alle fortune, what

so evere it be, of hem that ben eyther in possessioun

of vertu, or in the encres of vertu, or

elles in the purchasynge of vertu, that thilke

70 fortune is good; and that alle fortune is

ryght wikkid to hem that duellen in

schrewidnesse." (As who seith. "And thus

weneth nat the peple.")

"That is soth," quod I, "al be it so that no

man dar confessen it ne byknowen it."

"Whi so?" quod sche; "for ryght as the

stronge man ne semeth nat to abaissen or disdaignen

as ofte tyme as he herith the noyse

of the bataile, ne also it ne semeth nat to

80 the wise man to beren it grevously as ofte

as he is lad into the stryf of fortune. For,

bothe to the to man and eek to the tothir thilke

difficulte is the matere, to the to man of encres

of his glorious renoun, and to the tothir man

to confermen his sapience (that is to seyn, to the

asprenesse of his estat). For therfore it is

called `vertu,' for that it sustenith and enforceth

by hise strengthes that it nis nat overcomen by

adversites. Ne certes thou, that art put in

90 the encres or in the heyghte of vertu, ne

hast nat comen to fleten with delices, and

for to welken in bodily lust; thou sowest or

plawntest a ful egre bataile in thy corage ayeins

every fortune, for that the sorwful fortune ne

confownde the nat, ne that the myrie fortune

ne corrumpe the nat. Ocupye the mene by stidefast

strengthes; for al that evere is undir the

mene, or elles al that overpasseth the mene,

despyseth welefulnesse (as who seith, it

100 is vycious), and ne hath no mede of his

travaile. For it is set in your hand (as who

seith, it lyth in your power) what fortune yow

is levest (that is to seyn, good or yvel). For

alle fortune that semeth scharp or aspre, yif it

ne exercise nat the good folk ne chastiseth the

wikkide folk, it punysseth.

"The wrekere Attrides (that is to seyn, Agamenon),

that wrought and contynued the batailes

by ten yer, recovered and purgide in

wrekynge, by the destruccioun of Troye, the

loste chaumbris of mariage of his brothir.

(That is to seyn, that he, Agamenon, wan ayein

Eleyne that was Menelaus wif his brothir.)

In the mene while that thilke Agamenon desirede

to yeven sayles to the Grykkyssche

10 naveye, and boughte ayein the wyndes by

blood, he unclothide hym of pite of fadir;

and the sory preest yeveth in sacrifyenge the

wrecchide kuttynge of throte of the doughter.

(That is to seyn that Agamenon leet kutten the

throte of his doughter by the preest, to maken

alliaunce with his goddes and for to han wynd

with whiche he myghte wenden to Troye.)

"Ytakus (that is to seyn, Ulixes) bywepte his

felawes ilorne, the whiche felawes the

20 fyerse Poliphemus, ligginge in his grete cave,

had fretyn and dreynt in his empty wombe.

But natheles Poliphemus, wood for his blynde

visage, yald to Ulixes joye by his sorwful

teres. (This to seyn, that Ulixes smoot out the

eye of Poliphemus, that stood in his forheed,

for whiche Ulixes hadde joye whan he say Poliphemus

wepynge and blynd).

"Hercules is celebrable for his harde travailes.

He dawntide the proude Centauris (half

30 hors, half man), and he byrafte the dispoilynge

fro the cruel lyoun (that is to seyn, he

slouhe the lyoun and rafte hym his skyn); he

smot the briddes that hyghten Arpiis with certein

arwes; he ravysschide applis fro the wakynge

dragoun, and his hand was the more hevy

for the goldene metal; he drowh Cerberus, the

hound of helle, by his treble cheyne; he, overcomer,

as it is seyd, hath put an unmeke lord

foddre to his crwel hors (this to seyn, that

40 Hercules slowh Diomedes, and made his

hors to freten hym); and he, Hercules,

slowh Idra the serpent, and brende the venym;

and Acheleous the flod, defowled in his forheed,

dreynte his schamefast visage in his

strondes (that is to seyn, that Achaleous coude

transfiguren hymself into diverse liknesse, and,

as he faughte with Hercules, at the laste he

torned hym into a bole, and Hercules brak of

oon of his hornes, and he for schame hidde

50 hym in his ryver); and he, Hercules, caste

adoun Antheus the geaunt in the [sondes]

of Libye; and Kacus apaysede the wratthes of

Evander (this to seyn, that Hercules slouh the

monstre Kacus, and apaysed with that deth the

wratthe of Evander); and the bristilede boor

markide with scomes the scholdres of Hercules,

the whiche scholdres the heye cercle of

hevene sholde thriste; and the laste of his labours

was that he susteynede the hevene

60 uppon his nekke unbowed; and he disservide

eftsones the hevene to ben the pris

of his laste travaile.

"Goth now thanne, ye stronge men, ther as

the heye wey of the greet ensaumple ledith

yow. O nyce men! why nake ye your bakkes?

(As who seith, "O ye slowe and delicat men!

whi flee ye adversites, and ne fyghte nat ayeins

hem by vertu, to wynnen the mede of the hevene?")

For the erthe overcomen yeveth the

70 sterres." (This to seyn, that whan that

erthly lust is overcomyn, a man is makid

worthy to the hevene.)

BOOK 5

Sche hadde seyd, and torned the cours of

hir resoun to some othere thingis to ben treted

and to ben ispedd. Thanne seide I, "Certes

ryghtful is thin amonestynge and ful digne by

auctorite. But that thou seydest whilom that

the questioun of the devyne purveaunce is enlaced

with many othere questiouns, I undirstande

wel and prove it by the same thing.

But I axe yif that thou wenest that hap be

10 anything in any weys; and yif thou wenest

that hap be anything, what is it?"

Thanne quod sche, "I haste me to yelden

and assoilen to the the dette of my byheste, and

to schewen and openen the the

wey, by whiche wey thou maist comen ayein to thi contre. But

al be it so that the thingis whiche that thou axest

ben ryght profitable to knowe, yit ben thei

divers somwhat fro the path of my purpos; and

it is to douten that thou ne be makid weery

20 by mysweyes, so that thou ne maist nat

suffise to mesuren the ryghte weie."

"Ne doute the therof nothing," quod I; "for

for to knowen thilke thingis togidre, in the

whiche thinges I delite me gretly -- that schal

ben to me in stede of reste, syn it nis nat to

douten of the thingis folwynge, whan every syde

of thi disputesoun schal han ben stedfast to me

by undoutous feyth."

"Thanne," seide sche, "that manere wol

30 I don the," and bygan to speken ryght thus:

"Certes," quod sche, "yif any wyght

diffynisse hap in this manere, that is to seyn that

`hap is bytydynge ibrought forth by foolisshe

moevynge and by no knyttynge of causes,' I

conferme that hap nis ryght naught in no wise;

and I deme al outrely that hap nis but an idel

voys (as who seith, but an idel word), withouten

any significacioun of thing summitted

to that voys. For what place myght ben

40 left or duellynge to folie and to disordenaunce,

syn that God ledeth and

constreyneth alle thingis by ordre? For this

sentence is verray and soth, that `no thing hath

his beynge of naught,' to the whiche sentence

noon of thise oolde folk ne withseide nevere; al

be it so that they ne undirstoden ne meneden it

nat by God, prince and bygynnere of wirkynge,

but thei casten as a maner foundement of subject

material (that is to seyn, of the nature of

50 alle resouns). And yif that any thing is

woxen or comen of no causes, thanne schal

it seme that thilke thing is comen or woxen of

nawght; but yif this ne mai nat ben don, thanne

is it nat possible that hap be any swich thing as

I have diffynysschid a litil herebyforn."

"How schal it thanne be?" quod I. "Nys ther

thanne nothing that by right may ben clepid

other hap or elles aventure of fortune; or is ther

awght, al be it so that it is hidd fro the

60 peple, to whiche thing thise wordes ben

covenable?"

"Myn Aristotle," quod sche, "in the book of

his Phisic diffynysseth this thing by schort

resoun, and nyghe to the sothe."

"In whiche manere?" quod I.

"As ofte, quod sche, "as men don any thing

for grace of any other thing, and another thing

than thilke thing that men entenden to don

bytideth by some causes, it is clepid hap.

70 Ryght as a man dalf the erthe bycause of

tylyinge of the feld, and founde ther a

gobet of gold bydolven; thanne wenen folk

that it is byfalle by fortunous bytydynge. But

forsothe it nis nat of naught, for it hath his

propre causes, of whiche causes the cours unforseyn

and unwar semeth to han makid hap.

For yif the tiliere of the feeld ne dulve nat in the

erthe, and yif the hidere of the gold ne hadde

hyd the gold in thilke place, the gold ne

80 hadde nat ben founde. Thise ben thanne

the causes of the abregginge of fortuit hap,

the whiche abreggynge of fortuit hap cometh of

causes encontrynge and flowynge togidere to

hemself, and nat by the entencioun of the doere.

For neither the hidere of the gold ne the delvere

of the feeld ne undirstoden nat that the gold

sholde han ben founde; but, as I seide, it bytidde

and ran togidre that he dalf thare as that oothir

had hid the gold. Now mai I thus diffinysshen

90 hap: hap is an unwar betydinge

of causes assembled in thingis that ben

doon for som oothir thing; but thilke ordre,

procedinge by an uneschuable byndinge togidre,

whiche that descendeth fro the welle of

purveaunce that ordeyneth alle thingis in hir

places and in hir tymes, makith that the causes

rennen and assemblen togidre.

"Tigrys and Eufrates resolven and springen

of o welle in the cragges of the roche of the

contre of Achemenye, ther as the fleinge bataile

ficcheth hir dartes retorned in the breestis

of hem that folwen hem. And sone aftir the

same ryverys, Tigris and Eufrates, unjoignen

and departen hir watres. And if thei comen togidre

and ben assemblid and clepid togidre

into o cours, thanne moten thilke thingis

10 fleten togidre whiche that the watir of

the entrechaungynge flood bryngeth. The

schippes and the stokkes araced with the flood

moten assemblen; and the watris imedled

wrappeth or emplieth many fortunel happes

or maneris; the whiche wandrynge happes

natheles thilke enclynynge lowenesse of the

erthe and the flowinge ordre of the slydinge

watir governeth. Right so fortune, that semeth

as it fletith with slakid or ungoverned

20 bridles, it suffreth bridelis (that is to seyn,

to ben governed), and passeth by thilke

lawe (that is to seyn, by the devyne ordenaunce)."

"This undirstonde I wel," quod I, "and I accorde

me that it is ryght as thou seist. But I

axe yif ther be any liberte of fre wille in this

ordre of causes that clyven thus togidre in

hemself, or elles I wolde witen yif that the

destinal cheyne constrenith the moevynges of

the corages of men."

"Yis," quod sche, "ther is liberte of fre wil,

ne ther ne was nevere no nature of resoun

10 that it ne hadde liberte of fre wil. For every

thing that may naturely usen resoun,

it hath doom by whiche it discernith and demeth

every thing; thanne knoweth it by itself

thinges that ben to fleen and thinges that ben

to desiren. And thilke thing that any wight

demeth to ben desired, that axeth or desireth

he; and fleeth thilke thing that he troweth be

to fleen. Wherfore in alle thingis that resoun

is, in hem also is liberte of willynge and of

20 nillynge. But I ne ordeyne nat (as who

seith, I ne graunte nat) that this liberte be

evenelyk in alle thinges. Forwhy in the sovereynes

devynes substaunces (that is to seyn,

in spiritz) jugement is more cleer, and wil nat

icorrumped, and myght redy to speden thinges

that ben desired. But the soules of men moten

nedes be more fre whan thei loken hem in the

speculacioun or lokynge of the devyne thought;

and lasse fre whan thei slyden into the bodyes;

30 and yit lasse fre whan thei ben gadrid

togidre and comprehended in erthli

membres; but the laste servage is whan that

thei ben yeven to vices and han ifalle fro the

possessioun of hir propre resoun. For aftir that

thei han cast awey hir eyghen fro the lyght

of the sovereyn sothfastnesse to lowe thingis

and derke, anon thei derken by the cloude of

ignoraunce and ben troubled by felonous talentz;

to the whiche talentz whan thei approchen

40 and assenten, thei helpen and

encrecen the servage whiche thei han

joyned to hemself; and in this manere thei ben

caytifs fro hir propre liberte. The whiche thingis

natheles the lokynge of the devyne purveaunce

seth, that alle thingis byholdeth and seeth fro

eterne, and ordeyneth hem everiche in here

merites as thei ben predestinat; and it is seid in

Greke that `alle thinges he seeth and alle thinges

he herith.'

"Homer with the hony mouth (that is to seyn,

Homer with the swete ditees) singeth that the

sonne is cler by pure light; natheles yit ne

mai it nat, by the infirme light of his bemes,

breken or percen the inward entrayles of the

erthe or elles of the see. So ne seth nat God,

makere of the grete werld. To hym, that loketh

alle thinges from an hey, ne withstondeth

no thinges by hevynesse of erthe, ne the

10 nyght ne withstondeth nat to hym by the

blake cloudes. Thilke God seeth in o strok

of thought alle thinges that ben, or weren, or

schollen comen; and thilke God, for he loketh

and seeth alle thingis alone, thou maist seyn

that he is the verrai sonne."

Thanne seide I, "Now am I confowndide by

a more hard doute than I was."

"What doute is that?" quod sche, "for certes I

conjecte now by whiche thingis thou art trubled."

"It semeth," quod I, "to repugnen and to

contrarien gretly, that God knoweth byforn alle

thinges and that ther is any fredom of liberte.

For yif so be that God loketh alle thinges

byforn, ne God ne mai nat ben desceyved

10 in no manere, thanne moot it nedes ben that

alle thinges betyden the whiche that the

purveaunce of God hath seyn byforn to comen.

For whiche, yif that God knoweth byforn nat

oonly the werkes of men, but also hir conseilles

and hir willes, thanne ne schal ther be no liberte

of arbitrie; ne certes ther ne may be noon

othir dede, ne no wil, but thilke whiche that the

devyne purveaunce, that ne mai nat ben disseyved,

hath felid byforn. For yif that thei

20 myghten writhen awey in othere manere

than thei ben purveyed, thanne ne sholde

ther be no stedefast prescience of thing to

comen, but rather an uncerteyn opynioun; the

whiche thing to trowen of God, I deme it felonye

and unleveful.

"Ne I ne proeve nat thilke same resoun (as who

seith, I ne allowe nat, or I ne preyse nat, thilke

same resoun) by whiche that som men wenen

that thei mowe assoilen and unknytten the

30 knotte of this questioun. For certes thei

seyn that thing nis nat to comen for that the

purveaunce of God hath seyn byforn that it is to

comen, but rathir the contrarie; and that is this:

that, for that the thing is to comen, that therfore

ne mai it nat ben hidd fro the purveaunce of

God; and in this manere this necessite slideth

ayein into the contrarie partie: ne it ne byhoveth

nat nedes that thinges betiden that ben

ipurveied, but it byhoveth nedes that thinges

40 that ben to comen ben ipurveied -- but as

it were Y travailed (as who seith, that

thilke answere procedith ryght as though men

travaileden or weren besy) to enqueren the

whiche thing is cause of the whiche thing, as

whethir the prescience is cause of the necessite

of thinges to comen, or elles that the necessite of

thinges to comen is cause of the purveaunce. But

I ne enforce me nat now to schewen it, that

the bytidynge of thingis iwyst byforn is

50 necessarie, how so or in what manere that

the ordre of causes hath itself; although

that it ne seme naught that the prescience bringe

in necessite of bytydinge to thinges to comen.

"For certes yif that any wyght sitteth, it byhoveth

by necessite that the opynioun be soth of

hym that conjecteth that he sitteth. and

ayeinward also is it of the contrarie: yif the

opinioun be soth of any wyght for that he sitteth,

it byhoveth by necessite that he sitte.

60 Thanne is here necessite in the toon and in

the tothir; for in the toon is necessite of

syttynge, and certes in the tothir is necessite of

soth. But therfore ne sitteth nat a wyght for that

the opynioun of the sittynge is soth, but the

opinioun is rather soth for that a wyght sitteth

byforn. And thus, althoughe that the cause of the

soth cometh of that other side (as who seith,

that althoughe the cause of soth cometh of the

sittynge, and nat of the trewe opinioun),

70 algatis yit is ther comune necessite in that

oon and in that othir. Thus scheweth it that

Y may make semblable skiles of the purveaunce

of God and of thingis to comen. For althoughe

that for that thingis ben to comen therfore ben

thei purveied, and nat certes for thei be purveied

therfore ne bytide thei nat; yit natheles byhoveth

it by necessite that eyther the thinges to comen

ben ipurveied of God, or elles that the thinges

that ben ipurveyed of God betyden. And

80 this thing oonly suffiseth inow to destroien

the fredom of oure arbitre (that is to seyn,

of our fre wil).

"But certes now schewith it wel how fer fro

the sothe and how up-so-doun is this thing that

we seyn, that the betydynge of temporel thingis

is cause of the eterne prescience. But for to

wenen that God purveieth the thinges to comen

for thei ben to comen -- what oothir thing is it

but for to wene that thilke thinges that

90 bytidden whilom ben cause of thilke

soverein purveaunce that is in God? And

herto I adde yit this thing: that ryght as whanne

that I woot that a thing is, it byhoveth by

necessite that thilke selve thing be; and eek

whan I have knowen that any thing schal

betyden; so byhovith it by necessite that thilke

same thing betide; so folweth it thanne that the

betydynge of the thing iwyste byforn ne may nat

ben eschued. And at the laste, yif that any

100 wyght wene a thing to ben oothir weyes

than it is, it nis nat oonly unscience, but it

is desceyvable opynioun ful divers and fer fro

the sothe of science. Wherfore, yif any thing be

so to comen that the betidynge of it ne be nat

certein ne necessarie, who mai witen byforn that

thilke thing is to comen? For ryght as science ne

may nat ben medled with falsnesse (as who

seith, that yif I woot a thing, it ne mai nat

ben fals that I ne woot it), ryght so thilke

110 thing that is conceyved by science ne may

nat ben noon other weies than as it is

conceyved. For that is the cause why that science

wanteth lesynge (as who seith, why that

wytynge ne resceyveth nat lesynge of that it

woot); for it byhoveth by necessite that every

thing be ryght as science comprehendeth it

to be.

"What schal I thanne seyn? In whiche manere

knoweth God byforn the thinges to comen,

120 yif thei ne ben nat certein? For yif that he

deme that thei ben to comen uneschewably,

and so may be that it is possible that thei

ne schollen nat comen, God is disseyved. But

not oonly to trowe that God is disseyved, but for

to speke it with mouthe, it is a felonous synne.

But yif that God woot that ryght so as thinges

ben to comen, so schollen they comen, so that he

wite egaly (as who seith, indifferently) that

thingis mowen ben doon or elles nat

130 idoon, what is thilke prescience that ne

comprehendeth no certein thing ne stable?

Or elles what difference is ther bytwixe the

prescience and thilke japeworthi devynynge of

Tyresie the divynour, that seide, `Al that I seie,'

quod he, `either it schal be or elles it ne schal nat

be?' Or elles how mochel is worth the devyne

prescience more than the opinioun of mankynde,

yif so be that it demeth the thinges

uncertayn, as men doon, of the whiche

140 domes of men the betydinge nis nat

certein? But yif so be that noon uncertein

thing ne mai ben in hym that is right certeyn

welle of alle thingis, than is the betydinge

certein of thilke thingis whiche he hath wist

byforn fermely to comen. For whiche it folweth

that the fredom of the conseiles and of the

werkis of mankynde nis noon, syn that the

thought of God, that seeth alle thinges withouten

errour of falsnesse, byndeth and

150 constreyneth hem to o bytidynge by

necessite.

"And yif this thing be oonys igrauntid and

resceyved (that is to seyn, that ther nis no fre

wil), thanne scheweth it wel how gret destruccioun

and how gret damages ther folwen of

thingis of mankynde. For in idel ben ther thanne

purposed and byhyght medes to good folk, and

peynes to badde folk, syn that no moevynge of

fre corage and voluntarie ne hath nat

160 disservid hem (that is to seyn, neither

mede ne peyne). And it scholde seme

thanne that thilke thing is alther-worst whiche

that is now demed for alther-moost just

and moost ryghtful, that is to seyn that schrewes ben

punysschid or elles that good folk ben

igerdoned, the whiche folk syn that hir propre

wil ne sent hem nat to the toon ne to that othir

(that is to seyn, neither to good ne to harm), but

constreyneth hem certein necessite of

170 thingis to comen. Thanne ne schulle ther

nevere be, ne nevere were, vice ne vertu,

but it scholde rather ben confusion of alle

dissertes medlid withouten discrecioun. And yit

ther folweth anothir inconvenient, of the whiche

ther ne mai be thought no more felonous ne

more wikke, and that is this: that, so as the ordre

of thingis is iled and cometh of the purveaunce

of God, ne that nothing is leveful to the

conseiles of mankynde (as who seith that

180 men han no power to don nothing ne wilne

nothing), thanne folweth it that oure vices

ben referrid to the makere of alle good

(as who seith, thanne folweth it that God

oughte han the blame of our vices), syn he

constreyneth us by necessite to doon vices.

"Than nis ther no resoun to han hope in God,

ne for to preien to God. For what scholde any

wyght hopen to God, or why scholde he preien

to God, syn that the ordenance of destyne

190 whiche that mai nat ben enclyned knytteth

and streyneth alle thingis that men mai

desiren? Thanne scholde ther be don awey

thilke oonly alliaunce bytwixen God and men

(that is to seyn, to hopen and to preien). But

by the pris of ryghtwisnesse and of verray

mekenesse we disserven the gerdon of the

devyne grace whiche that is inestimable (that is

to seyn, that it is so greet that it ne mai nat ben

ful ipreysed). And this is oonly the manere

200 (that is to seyn, hope and preieris) for

whiche it semeth that men mowen spekyn

with God, and by resoun of supplicacion be

conjoyned to thilke cleernesse that nis nat

aprochid no rather or that men byseken it and

impetren it. And yif men ne wene nat that hope

ne preieris ne han no strengthis by the necessite

of thingis to comen iresceyved, what thing

is ther thanne by whiche we mowen ben

conjoyned and clyven to thilke sovereyne

210 prince of thingis? For whiche it byhoveth

by necessite that the lynage of mankynde,

as thou songe a litil herebyforn, be departed and

unjoyned from his welle, and failen of his

bygynnynge (that is to seyn, God).

"What discordable cause hath torent and unjoyned

the byndynge or the alliaunce of thingis

(that is to seyn, the conjunccions of God and

of man)? Whiche god hath establisschid so

gret bataile bytwixen these two sothfast or

verreie thinges (that is to seyn, bytwyxen the

purveaunce of God and fre wil) that thei ben

singuler and dyvided, ne that they ne wole

nat ben medled ne couplid togidre? But

10 ther nis no discord to the verray thinges,

but thei clyven alwey certein to hemself;

but the thought of man, confownded and over-throwen

by the derke membres of the body,

ne mai nat be fyr of his derked lookynge (that

is to seyn, by the vigour of his insyghte while

the soule is in the body) knowen the thynne

sutile knyttynges of thinges. But wherfore

eschaufeth it so by so gret love to fynden

thilke notes of soth icovered? (That is to

20 seyn, wherfore eschaufeth the thought of

man by so gret desir to knowen thilke notificaciouns

that ben ihid undir the covertures of

soth?) Woot it aught thilke thing that it angwisshous

desireth to knowe? (As who seith,

nay; for no man ne travaileth for to witen

thingis that he wot. And therfore the texte

seith thus:) But who travaileth to wite thingis

iknowe? And yif that he ne knoweth hem nat,

what sekith thilke blynde thoght? What is

30 he that desireth any thyng of which he wot

right naught? (As who seith, whoso desireth

any thing, nedes somwhat he knoweth of it,

or elles he ne coude nat desiren it.) Or who may

folwen thinges that ne ben nat iwist? And

thoughe that he seke tho thingis, wher schal

he fynde hem? What wyght that is al unkunnynge

and ignoraunt may knowe the forme

that is ifounde? But whanne the soule byholdeth

and seeth the heye thought (that is to

40 seyn, God), thanne knoweth it togidre the

somme and the singularites (that is to seyn,

the principles and everyche by hymself)? But

now, while the soule is hidd in the cloude and

in the derknesse of the membres of the body,

it ne hath nat al foryeten itself, but it withholdeth

the somme of thinges and lesith the

singularites. Thanne who so that sekith sothnesse,

he nis in neyther nother habite, for he

not nat al, ne he ne hath nat al foryeten;

50 but yit hym remembreth the somme of

thinges that he withholdeth, and axeth conseile,

and retretith deepliche thinges iseyn byforne

(that is to seyn, the grete somme in his

mynde) so that he mowe adden the parties

that he hath foryeten to thilke that he hath

withholden."

Than seide sche, "This is," quod sche, "the

olde questioun of the purveaunce of God. And

Marcus Tullius, whan he devyded the divynaciouns

(that is to seyn, in his book that he wrot

of dyvynaciouns), he moevede gretly this questioun;

and thou thiself hast ysought it mochel

and outrely and longe. But yit ne hath it nat

ben determined ne isped fermely and diligently

of any of yow. And the cause of this dirknesse

10 and of this difficulte is, for that the

moevynge of the resoun of mankynde ne

may nat moeven to (that is to seyn, applien

or joignen to) the simplicite of the devyne prescience;

the whiche symplicite of the devyne

prescience, yif that men myghte thinken it

in any manere (that is to seyn, that yif

men myghten thinken and comprehenden the

thinges as God seeth hem), thanne ne scholde

ther duelle outrely no doute. The whiche

20 resoun and cause of difficulte I schal assaye

at the laste to schewe and to speden, whan

I have first ispendid and answerd to the resouns

by whiche thou art ymoeved.

"For I axe whi thou wenest that thilke resoun

of hem that assoilen this questioun ne be

nat speedful inow ne sufficient; the whiche solucioun,

or the whiche resoun, for that it demeth

that the prescience nis nat cause of necessite

to thinges to comen, than ne weneth it

30 nat that fredom of wil be distorbed or

ylet be prescience. For ne drawestow nat

argumentz fro elleswhere of the necessite of

thingis to comen (as who seith, any oothir wey

than thus) but that thilke thinges that the

prescience woot byforn ne mowen nat unbetyde

(that is to seyn, that thei moten betide)?

But thanne, yif that prescience ne putteth

no necessite to thingis to comen, as thou thiself

hast confessed it and byknowen a litel

40 herebyforn, what cause or what is it (as

who seith, ther may no cause be) by

whiche that the endes voluntarie of thinges

myghten be constreyned to certein bytydynge?

For by grace of posicioun, so that thou mowe the

betere undirstonde this that folweth, I pose that

ther ne be no prescience. Thanne axe I," quod

sche, "in as moche as aperteneth to that,

scholden thanne thingis that comen of fre wil

ben constreyned to bytiden by necessite?"

50 Boecius. "Nay," quod I.

"Thanne ayeinward," quod sche, "I

suppose that ther be prescience, but that it ne

putteth no necessite to thingis; thanne trowe I

that thilke selve fredom of wil schal duellen al

hool and absolut and unbounden. But thou wolt

seyn that, al be it so that prescience nis nat cause

of the necessite of bytydynge to thingis to

comen, algatis yit it is a signe that the thingis ben

to bytyden by necessite. By this manere

60 thanne, althoughe the prescience ne hadde

nevere iben, yit algate, or at the leste wey,

it is certein thing that the endes and bytydinges

of thingis to comen scholden ben necessarie. For

every signe scheweth and signifieth oonly what

the thing is, but it ne makith nat the thing that

it signifieth. For whiche it byhoveth first to

schewen that nothing ne bytideth that it ne

betideth by necessite, so that it mai apiere that

the prescience is signe of this necessite; or

70 elles, yif ther nere no necessite, certes

thilke prescience ne myghte nat ben signe

of thing that nis nat. But certes, it is now certein

that the proeve of this, isusteyned by stedfast

resoun, ne schal nat ben lad ne proeved by

signes, ne by argumentz itaken fro withoute, but

by causes covenable and necessarie.

"But thou mayst seyn, `How may it be that the

thingis ne betyden nat that ben ipurveied to

comen? But certes, ryght as we troweden

80 that tho thingis whiche that the purveaunce

woot byforn to comen, ne ben nat to

bytiden!' But that ne scholde we nat demen; but

rathir, althoughe that thei schal betyden, yit ne

have thei no necessite of hir kynde to betyden.

And this maystow lyghtly aperceyven by this

that I schal seyn. For we seen many thingis whan

thei ben done byforn oure eyen, ryght as men

seen the cartere worken in the tornynge and in

atemprynge or adressynge of hise cartes or

90 chariottes, and by this manere (as who

seith, maistow undirstonden) of alle othere

werkmen. Is ther thanne any necessite (as who

seith, in our lookynge) that constreynith or

compelleth any of thilke thingis to ben don so?"

Boece. "Nay," quod I, "for in idel and in veyn

were al the effect of craft, yif that alle thingis

weren moeved by constreynynge (that is to seyn,

by constreinynge of our eyen or of our sighte)."

Philosophie. "The thingis thanne," quod

100 she, "that, whan men doon hem, ne han no

necessite that men doon hem, eek tho same

thingis, first or thei ben don, thei ben to comen

withoute necessite. Forwhy ther ben some

thingis to betyden, of whiche the eendes and the

bytydynges of hem ben absolut and quit of alle

necessite. For certes I ne trowe nat that any man

wolde seyn this: that tho thingis that men don

now, that thei ne weren to bytiden first or thei

weren idoon; and thilke same thinges,

110 althoughe that men hadden iwyst hem

byforn, yit thei han fre bytydynges. For

ryght as science of thingis present ne bryngith in

no necessite to thingis that men doon, right so

the prescience of thinges to comen ne bryngith

in no necessite to thinges to bytiden.

"But thou maist seyn that of thilke same it is

idouted, as whethir that of thilke thingis that ne

han noon issues and bytidynges necessaries, yif

therof mai ben any prescience. For certes

120 thei semen to discorden, for thou wenest

that yif that thingis ben iseyn byfore, that

necessite folwith hem; and yif necessite faileth

hem, thei ne myghten nat ben wist byforn; and

that nothing may be comprehended by science

but certein. And yif tho thinges that ne han no

certein bytydingis ben ipurveied as certein, it

scholde ben dirknesse of opinioun, nat sothfastnesse

of science. And thou wenest that it be

dyvers fro the holnesse of science that any

130 man scholde deme a thing to ben otherwyse

than it is itself.

"And the cause of this errour is that of alle the

thingis that every wyght hath iknowe,

thei wenen that tho thingis ben iknowe al only by the

strengthe and by the nature of the thinges that

ben iwyst or iknowe. And it is al the contrarye;

for al that evere is iknowe, it is rather

comprehendid and knowen, nat aftir his

strengthe and his nature, but aftir the

140 faculte (that is to seyn, the power and the

nature) of hem that knowen. And, for

that this schal mowen schewen by a schort

ensaumple, the same rowndnesse of a body,

otherweys the sighte of the eighe knoweth it,

and otherweys the touchynge. The lookynge, by

castynge of his bemys, waiteth and seeth fro afer

al the body togidre, withoute moevynge of

itself; but the touchynge clyveth and conjoyneth

to the rounde body, and moeveth aboute

150 the envyrounynge, and comprehendeth by

parties the roundnesse. And the man

hymself, ootherweys wit byholdeth hym, and

ootherweys ymaginacioun, and otherweyes

resoun, and ootherweies intelligence. For the

wit comprehendith withoute-forth the figure of

the body of the man that is establisschid in the

matere subgett; but the ymaginacioun comprehendith

oonly the figure withoute the

matere; resoun surmountith ymaginacioun

160 and comprehendith by an universel lokynge

the comune spece that is in the

singuler peces. But the eighe of intelligence is

heyere, for it surmountith the envyrounynge of

the universite, and loketh over that bi pure

subtilte of thought thilke same symple forme of

man that is perdurablely in the devyne thought.

In whiche this oughte gretly to ben considered,

that the heyeste strengthe to comprehenden

thinges enbraseth and contienith the

170 lowere strengthe; but the lower strengthe

ne ariseth nat in no manere to the heyere

strengthe. For wit ne mai no thing comprehende

out of matere ne the ymaginacioun ne loketh nat

the universel speces, ne resoun ne taketh nat the

symple forme so as intelligence takith it; but

intelligence, that lookith as aboven, whanne it

hath comprehended the forme, it knowith and

demyth alle the thinges that ben undir that

foorme; but sche knoweth hem in thilke

180 manere in the whiche it comprehendith

thilke same symple forme that ne may

nevere ben knowen to noon of that othere (that

is to seyn, to none of tho thre forseyde strengthis

of the soule). For it knoweth the universite of

resoun, and the figure of ymaginacioun, and the

sensible material conceyved by wit; ne it ne

useth nat nor of resoun ne of ymaginacioun ne

of wit withoute-forth; but it byholdeth alle

thingis, so as I schal seie, by o strook of

190 thought formely (withoute discours or

collacioun). Certes resoun, whan it lokith

any thing universel, it ne useth nat of

ymaginacioun, nor of wit; and algatis yit it

comprehendith the thingis ymaginable and

sensible. For reson is she that diffynyscheth the

universel of here conceyte ryght thus: man is a

resonable two-foted beest. And how so that this

knowynge is universel, yit nis ther no wyght that

ne wot wel that a man is a thing ymaginable

200 and sensible; and this same considereth wel

resoun; but that nis nat by ymaginacioun

nor by wit, but it lookith it by resonable

concepcioun. Also ymaginacioun, albeit so that

it takith of wit the bygynnynges to seen and to

formen the figures, algates althoughe that wit ne

were nat present, yit it envyrowneth and

comprehendith alle thingis sensible, nat by

resoun sensible of demynge, but by resoun

ymaginatyf. Seestow nat thanne that alle

210 the thingis in knowynge usen more of hir

faculte or of hir power than thei don of the

faculte or power of thingis that ben iknowe? Ne

that nis nat wrong; for so as every jugement is

the dede or the doyng of hym that demeth, it

byhoveth that every wyght performe the werk

and his entencioun, nat of foreyne power, but of

his propre power.

"The porche (that is to seyn, a gate of the

toun of Athenis there as philosophris hadden

hir congregacioun to desputen) -- thilke porche

broughte somtyme olde men, ful dirke in hir

sentences (that is to seyn, philosophris that

hyghten Stoycienis), that wenden that ymages

and sensibilities (that is to seyn, sensible ymaginaciouns

or ellis ymaginaciouns of sensible

thingis) weren enprientid into soules fro

10 bodyes withoute-forth (as who seith that

thilke Stoycienis wenden that the sowle

had ben nakid of itself, as a mirour or a clene

parchemyn, so that alle figures most first

comen fro thinges fro withoute into soules,

and ben emprientid into soules); (Textus)

ryght as we ben wont somtyme by a swift

poyntel to fycchen lettres emprientid in the

smothnesse or in the pleynesse of the table of

wex or in parchemyn that ne hath no figure

20 ne note in it. (Glose. But now argueth

Boece ayens that opynioun and seith

thus:) But yif the thryvynge soule ne unpliteth

nothing (that is to seyn, ne doth nothing) by his

propre moevynges, but suffrith and lith subgit

to the figures and to the notes of bodies

withoute-forth, and yeldith ymages ydel and

vein in the manere of a mirour, whennes

thryveth thanne or whennes comith thilke

knowynge in our soule, that discernith and

30 byholdith alle thinges? And whennes is

thilke strengthe that byholdeth the singuler

thinges? Or whennes is the strengthe that

devydeth thinges iknowe; and thilke strengthe

that gadreth togidre the thingis devyded; and

the strengthe that chesith his entrechaunged

wey? For somtyme it hevyth up the heved (that

is to seyn, that it hevyth up the entencioun) to

ryght heye thinges, and somtyme it descendith

into ryght lowe thinges; and whan

40 it retorneth into hymself it reproveth and

destroyeth the false thingis by the trewe

thinges. Certes this strengthe is cause more

efficient, and mochel more myghty to seen and

to knowe thinges, than thilke cause that suffrith

and resceyveth the notes and the figures

empressid in manere of matere. Algatis the

passion (that is to seyn, the suffraunce or the wit)

in the quyke body goth byforn, excitynge and

moevynge the strengthes of the thought,

50 ryght so as whan that cleernesse smyteth

the eyen and moeveth hem to seen, or

ryght so as voys or soun hurteleth to the eres

and commoeveth hem to herkne; than is the

strengthe of the thought imoevid and excited,

and clepith forth to semblable moevyngis the

speces that it halt withynne itself, and addith

tho speces to the notes and to the thinges

withoute-forth, and medleth the ymagis of

thinges withoute-forth to the foormes ihidd

60 withynne hymself.

"But what yif that in bodyes to ben feled

(that is to seyn, in the takynge of knowlechynge

of bodily thinges), and albeit so that the

qualites of bodies that ben object fro withoute-forth

moeven and entalenten the instrumentz

of the wittes, and albeit so that the passioun

of the body (that is to seyn, the wit or the suffraunce)

goth toforn the strengthe of the wirkynge

corage, the whiche passioun or

10 sufraunce clepith forth the dede of the

thought in hymself and moeveth and exciteth

in this menewhile the formes that resten

within-forth, and yif that in sensible bodies,

as I have seid, our corage nis nat ytaught or

empriented by passioun to knowe thise thinges,

but demeth and knoweth of his owne strengthe

the passioun or suffrance subject to the body --

moche more than tho thingis that ben absolut

and quit fro alle talentz or affecciouns of

20 bodyes (as God or his aungelis) ne folwen

nat in discernynge thinges object fro withoute-forth,

but thei acomplissen and speden

the dede of hir thought. By this resoun,

thanne, ther comen many maner knowynges to

dyverse and differynge substaunces. For the

wit of the body, the whiche wit is naked and

despoiled of alle oothre knowynges -- thilke

wit cometh to beestis that ne mowen nat

moeven hemself her and ther, as oistres

30 and muscles and oothir swich schellefyssche

of the see that clyven and ben norisschid

to roches. But the ymaginacioun cometh

to remuable bestis, that semen to han talent to

fleen or to desiren any thing. But resoun is al

oonly to the lynage of mankynde, ryght as

intelligence is oonly the devyne nature. Of

whiche it folweth that thilke knowynge is more

worth than thise oothre, syn it knoweth by his

propre nature nat oonly his subget (as who

40 seith, it ne knoweth nat al oonly that apertenith

properly to his knowinge) but it knoweth

the subjectz of alle othre knowynges.

"But how schal it thanne be, yif that wit and

ymaginacioun stryven ayein resonynge and seyn

that, of thilke universel thingis that resoun

weneth to seen, that it nis ryght naught? For wit

and ymaginacioun seyn that that that is sensible

or ymaginable, it ne mai nat ben universel;

thanne is either the jugement of resoun

50 soth, ne that ther nis no thing sensible; or

elles, for that resoun woot wel that many

thinges ben subject to wit and to ymaginacioun,

thanne is the concepcioun of resoun veyn and

fals, whiche that lokith and comprehendith that

that is sensible and singuler as universel. And yif

that resoun wolde answere ayein to thise two

(that is to seyn, to wit and to ymaginacioun),

and seyn that sothly sche hirselve (that is to

seyn, resoun) lokith and comprehendith,

60 by resoun of universalite, bothe that that is

sensible and that that is ymaginable;

and that thilke two (that is to seyn, wit and

ymaginacioun) ne mowen nat strecchen ne

enhaunsen hemself to knowynge of universalite,

for that the knowynge of hem ne mai exceden ne

surmounten the bodily figures: certes of the

knowynge of thinges, men oughten rather yeven

credence to the more stidfast and to the mor

parfit jugement; in this manere stryvynge,

70 thanne, we that han strengthe of resonynge

and of ymagynynge and of wit (that is to

seyn, by resoun and by imagynacioun and by

wit), we scholde rathir preise the cause of resoun

(as who seith, than the cause of wit and of

ymaginacioun).

"Semblable thing is it, that the resoun of

mankynde ne weneth nat that the devyne

intelligence byholdeth or knoweth thingis to

comen, but ryght as the resoun of

80 mankynde knoweth hem. For thou arguist

and seist thus: that if it ne seme nat to men

that some thingis han certeyn and necessarie

bytydynges, thei ne mowen nat ben wist byforn

certeinly to betyden, and thanne nis ther no

prescience of thilke thinges; and yif we trowe

that prescience be in thise thingis, thanne is ther

nothing that it ne bytydeth by necessite. But

certes yif we myghten han the jugement of

the devyne thoght, as we ben parsoners of

90 resoun, ryght so as we han demyd that it

byhovith that ymaginacioun and wit ben

bynethe resoun, ryght so wolde we demen that

it were ryghtfull thing that mannys resoun

oughte to summytten itself and to ben bynethe

the devyne thought. For whiche yif that we

mowen (as who seith that, if that we mowen,

I conseile that) we enhaunse us into the heighte

of thilke soverein intelligence; for ther schal

resoun wel seen that that it ne mai nat

100 byholden in itself, and certes that is this:

in what manere the prescience of God

seeth alle thinges certeins and diffinyssched,

althoughe thei ne han no certein issues or

bytydyngis; ne this nis noon opinioun, but it is

rather the simplicite of the soverein science,

that nis nat enclosed nor ischet withinne none

boundes.

"The beestes passen by the erthes be ful

diverse figures. For some of hem han hir bodyes

straught, and crepyn in the dust, and drawen

aftir hem a traas or a furwe icontynued (that

is to sein, as naddres or snakes); and oothre

beestis by the wandrynge lyghtnesse of hir

wynges beten the wyndes, and overswymmen

the spaces of the longe eir by moyst fleynge;

and oothere beestes gladen hemself to diggen

10 hir traas or hir steppys in the erthe

with hir goinges or with hir feet, and to

gon either by the grene feeldes or elles to

walken undir the wodes. And al be it so that

thou seest that thei alle discorden by diverse

foormes, algatis hir faces enclyned hevyeth hir

dulle wittes. Only the lynage of man heveth

heyest his heie heved, and stondith light with

his upryght body, and byholdeth the erthes

undir hym. And, but yif thou, erthly man,

20 waxest yvel out of thi wit, this figure

amonesteth the, that axest the hevene with

thi ryghte visage and hast areised thi forheved,

to beren up an hye thi corage, so that thi thought

ne be nat ihevyed ne put lowe undir fote, syn

that thi body is so heyghe areysed.

"Therfore thanne, as I have schewed a litel

herebyforne that alle thing that is iwist nis nat

knowen by his nature propre, but by the nature

of hem that comprehenden it, lat us loke

now, in as mochil as it is leveful to us (as who

seith, lat us loke now as we mowen) whiche that

the estat is of the devyne substaunce; so that

we mowe eek knowen what his science is. The

comune jugement of alle creatures resonables

10 thanne is this: that God is eterne.

Lat us considere thanne what is eternite;

for certes that schal schewen us togidre the

devyne nature and the devyne science. Eternite,

thanne, is parfit possessioun and al togidre

of lif interminable; and that scheweth. more

cleerly by the comparysoun or collacioun of

temporel thinges. For alle thing that lyveth in

tyme, it is present and procedith fro preteritz

into futures (that is to seyn, fro tyme passed

20 into tyme comynge), ne ther nis nothing

establisshed in tyme that mai enbrasen togidre

al the space of his lif. For certis yit ne

hath it nat taken the tyme of tomorwe, and it

hath lost that of yusterday, and certes in the

lif of this dai ye ne lyve namore but right

as in this moevable and transitorie moment.

Thanne thilke thing that suffreth temporel condicioun,

althoughe that it nevere bygan to

be, ne thoughe it nevere ne cese for to be,

30 as Aristotile deemed of the world, and

althoughe that the lif of it be strecchid with

infinite of tyme; yit algatis nis it no swich thing

that men mighten trowen by ryght that it is

eterne. For althouhe that it comprehende and

embrase the space of lif infinit, yit algatis ne

enbraseth it nat the space of the lif al togidre; for

it ne hath nat the futuris (that ne ben nat yit),

ne it ne hath no lengere the preteritz (that

ben idoon or ipassed). But thilke thing,

40 thanne, that hath and comprehendith

togidre al the plente of the lif interminable,

to whom ther ne faileth naught of the future, and

to whom ther nis noght of the preteryt escaped

nor ipassed, thilke same is iwitnessed and

iproevid by right to ben eterne; and it byhovith

by necessite that thilke thing be alwey present to

hymself and compotent (as who seith, alwey

present to hymselve and so myghty that al be

right at his plesaunce), and that he have al

50 present the infinit of the moevable tyme.

"Wherfore som men trowen wrongfully

that, whan thei heren that it semede to Plato that

this world ne hadde nevere bygynnynge of

tyme, ne that it nevere schal han failynge, thei

wenen in this manere that this world be makid

coeterne with his makere. (As who seith, thei

wene that this world and God ben makid

togidre eterne, and that is a wrongful wenynge.)

For other thing is it to ben ilad

60 by lif interminable, as Plato grauntide to

the world, and oothir is it to enbrace

togidre al the presence of the lif intermynable,

the whiche thing it is cleer and manyfest that it

is propre to the devyne thought. Ne it ne

scholde nat semen to us that God is eldere than

thinges that ben imaked by quantite of tyme, but

rathir by the proprete of his simple nature. For

this ilke infinit moevyng of temporel thinges

folweth this presentarie estat of the lif

70 inmoevable; and, so as it ne mai nat

contrefetin it ne feynen it, ne be evene lik

to it, [fro] the immoevablete (that is to sein, that

is in the eternite of God) it faileth and fallith into

moevynge, [and] fro the simplicite of the

presence of [God] disencresith into the infinit

quantite of future and of preterit; and so as it ne

mai nat han togidre al the plente of the lif,

algates yit, for as moche as it ne ceseth nevere for

to ben in som manere, it semyth somdel to

80 us that it folwith and resembleth thilke

thing that it ne mai nat atayne to ne

fulfillen, and byndeth itself to som maner

presence of this litle and swift moment, the

whiche presence of this litle and swifte moment,

for that it bereth a maner ymage or liknesse of

the ai duellynge presence of God, it grauntith to

swich manere thinges as it betydith to that it

semeth hem that thise thinges han iben and ben.

And for that the presence of swiche litil

90 moment ne mai nat duelle, therfore it

ravysschide and took the infynit wey of

tyme (that is to seyn, by successioun). And by

this manere is it idoon for that it sholde contynue

the lif in goinge, of the whiche lif it ne myght nat

enbrace the plente in duellinge. And forthi yif

we wollen putten worthi names to thinges and

folwen Plato, lat us seyen thanne sothly that God

is `eterne,' and that the world is `perpetuel.'

"Thanne, syn that every jugement knoweth

100 and comprehendith by his owne nature

thinges that ben subgect unto hym,

ther is sothly to God alweys an eterne

and presentarie estat; and the science of hym, that

overpasseth alle temporel moevement, duelleth

in the simplicite of his presence, and embraceth

and considereth alle the infynit spaces of tymes

preteritz and futures, and lokith in his simple

knowynge alle thinges of preterit ryght as thei

weren idoon presently ryght now. Yif

110 thou wolt thanne thinken and avise the

prescience by whiche it knoweth alle

thinges, thou ne schalt naught demen it as

prescience of thinges to comen, but thou schalt

demen more ryghtfully that it is science of

presence or of instaunce that nevere ne faileth.

For whiche it nis nat ycleped `previdence,' but it

sholde rathir ben clepid `purveaunce,' that is

establisshed ful fer fro ryght lowe thinges, and

byholdeth fro afer alle thingis, right as it

120 were fro the heye heighte of thinges.

"Why axestow thanne, or whi desputestow

thanne, that thilke thingis ben doon

by necessite whiche that ben yseyn and knowen

by the devyne sighte, syn that forsothe men ne

maken nat thilke thinges necessarie whiche that

thei seen ben idoon in hir sighte? For addith thi

byholdynge any necessite to thilke thinges that

thou byholdest present?"

"Nay," quod I.

130 Philosophie. "Certes, thanne, yif men

myghte maken any digne comparysoun or

collacioun of the presence devyne and of the

presence of mankynde, ryght so as ye seen some

thinges in this temporel present, ryght so seeth

God alle thinges by his eterne present.

"Wherfore this devyne prescience ne chaungeth

nat the nature ne the proprete of thinges,

but byholdeth swiche thingis present to hym-ward

as thei shollen betyde to yow-ward

140 in tyme to comen. Ne it ne confowndeth

nat the jugementz of thingis; but by o

sight of his thought he knoweth the thinges

to comen, as wel necessarie as nat necessarie.

Ryght so as whan ye seen togidre a man walke

on the erthe and the sonne arisen in the

hevene, albeit so that ye seen and byholden the

ton and the tothir togidre, yit natheles ye demen

and discerne that the toon is voluntarie

and the tothir is necessarie. Ryght so

150 thanne the devyne lookynge, byholdynge

alle thinges undir hym, ne trowbleth nat

the qualite of thinges that ben certeinly present

to hym-ward but, as to the condicioun of tyme,

forsothe thei ben futur. For which it folwith that

this nis noon opynioun, but rathir a stidfast

knowynge istrengthid by soothnesse that, whan

that God knoweth any thing to be, he ne unwot

not that thilke thing wantith necessite to be.

(This is to sein that whan that God knoweth

160 any thing to betide, he wot wel that it ne

hath no necessite to betyde.)

"And yif thou seist here that thilke thing that

God seeth to betide, it ne may nat unbytide (as

who seith, it moot bytide), and thilke thing that

ne mai nat unbytide, it mot bytiden by necessite,

and that thou streyne me to this name of

necessite, certes I wol wel confessen and

byknowen a thing of ful sad trouthe. But

unnethe schal ther any wight mowe seen it

170 or come therto, but yif that he be

byholdere of the devyne thought. For I wol

answeren the thus: that thilke thing that is futur,

whan it is referred to the devyne knowynge,

than is it necessarie; but certis whan it is

undirstonden in his owene kynde, men seen it

outrely fre and absolut fro alle necessite.

"For certes ther ben two maneris of

necessites: that oon necessite is symple, as thus:

that it byhovith by necessite that alle men

180 ben mortal or dedly; anothir necessite is

condicionel, as thus: yif thow wost that a

man walketh, it byhovith by necessite that he

walke. Thilke thing, thanne, that any wight hath

iknowe to be, it ne mai ben noon oothir weys

thanne he knowith it to be. But this condicion ne

draweth nat with hir thilke necessite simple; for

certes this necessite condicionel -- the propre

nature of it ne makith it nat, but the adjeccioun

of the condicioun makith it. For no necessite

190 ne constreyneth a man to gon that

goth by his propre wil, al be it so that whan

he goth that it is necessarie that he goth. Ryght

on this same manere thanne, yf that the

purveaunce of God seeth any thyng present,

than moot thilke thing ben by necessite,

althoghe that it ne have no necessite of his owne

nature. But certes the futures that bytiden by

fredom of arbitrie, God seth hem alle togidre

presentz. Thise thinges thanne, yif thei ben

200 referrid to the devyne sighte, than ben they

maked necessarie by the condicioun of the

devyne knowynge. But certes yif thilke thingis

ben considered by hemself, thei ben absolut of

necessite, and ne forleten nat ne cesen nat of

the liberte of hir owne nature. Thanne certes

withoute doute alle the thinges shollen ben

doon whiche that God woot byforn that thei ben

to comen. But some of hem comen and bytiden

of fre arbitrie or of fre wil, that, al be it so

210 that thei bytiden, yit algates ne lese thei nat

hir propre nature in beinge, by the whiche,

first or that thei weren idon, thei hadden power

noght to han bytyd."

Boece. "What is this to seyn thanne," quod I,

"that thinges ne ben nat necessarie by hir propre

nature, so as thei comen in alle maneris in the

liknesse of necessite by the condicioun of the

devyne science?"

Philosophie. "This is the difference,"

220 quod sche, "that tho thinges that I purposide

the a litil herbyforn -- that is to seyn,

the sonne arysynge and the man walkynge --

that ther-whiles that thilke thinges ben idoon,

they ne myghte nat ben undoon; natheles that

oon of hem, or it was idoon, it byhovide by

necessite that it was idoon, but nat that oothir.

Ryght so is it here, that the thinges that God

hath present, withoute doute thei shollen ben.

But some of hem descendith of the nature

230 of thinges (as the sonne arysynge); and

some descendith of the power of the doeris

(as the man walkynge). Thanne seide I no wrong

that, yif that thise thinges ben referred to the

devyne knowynge, thanne ben thei necessarie;

and yif thei ben considered by hemself, than ben

thei absolut fro the boond of necessite. Right so

as alle thingis that apiereth or scheweth to the

wittes, yif thou referre it to resoun, it is

universel; and yif thou loke it or referre it

240 to itself, than is it singuler.

"But now yif thou seist thus: that, `If it be

in my power to chaunge my purpos, than schal

I voiden the purveaunce of God, whan paraventure

I schal han chaungid the thingis that

he knoweth byforn,' thanne schal I answeren

the thus: `Certes thou maist wel chaungen thi

purpos; but for as mochil as the present

sothnesse of the devyne purveaunce byholdeth

that thou maist chaunge thi purpos, and

250 whethir thou wolt chaunge it or no, and

whider-ward that thou torne it, thou ne

maist nat eschuen the devyne prescience, ryght

as thou ne maist nat fleen the sighte of the

present eye, althoghe that thou torne thiself by

thi fre wil into diverse acciouns.' But thou maist

sein ayein: `How schal it thanne be -- schal nat

the devyne science ben chaunged by my

disposicioun whan that I wol o thing now and

now anothir? And thilke prescience -- ne

260 semeth it nat to entrechaunge stoundis of

knowynge?'" (As who seith, ne schal it nat

seme to us that the devyne prescience entrechaungith

hise diverse stoundes of knowynge,

so that it knowe somtyme o thing, and somtyme

the contrarie?)

"No, forsothe," quod she, "for the devyne

sighte renneth toforn and seeth alle futures, and

clepith hem ayen and retorneth hem to the

presence of his propre knowynge; ne he ne

270 entrechaungith nat, so as thou wenest, the

stoundes of foreknowynge, as now this,

now that; but he ay duellynge cometh byforn,

and enbraseth at o strook alle thi mutaciouns.

And this presence to comprehenden and to seen

alle thingis -- God ne hath nat taken it of the

bytidynge of thinges to come, but of his propre

symplicite. And herby is assoiled thilke thing

that thou puttest a litel herebyforn; that is to

seyn, that it is unworthy thing to seyn that

280 our futures yeven cause of the science of

God. For certis this strengthe of the devyne

science, whiche that embraseth alle thinges by

his presentarie knowynge, establissheth manere

to alle thinges, and it ne oweth nawht to lattere

thinges.

"And syn that thise thinges ben thus (that is

to seyn, syn that necessite nis nat in thinges by

the devyne prescience), thanne is ther fredom of

arbitrie, that duelleth hool and unwemmed

290 to mortal men; ne the lawes ne purposen

nat wikkidly medes and peynes to the

willynges of men that ben unbownden and quyt

of alle necessite; and God, byholdere and

forwytere of alle thingis, duelleth above, and the

present eternite of his sighte renneth alwey with

the diverse qualite of our dedes, dispensynge

and ordeynynge medes to gode men and

tormentz to wikkide men. Ne in ydel ne in veyn

ne ben ther put in God hope and preyeris

300 that ne mowen nat ben unspedful ne

withouten effect whan they been ryghtful.

"Withstond thanne and eschue thou vices;

worschipe and love thou vertues; areise thi

corage to ryghtful hopes; yilde thou humble

preieres an heyhe. Gret necessite of prowesse

and vertu is encharged and comaunded to yow,

yif ye nil nat dissimulen; syn that ye worken and

don (that is to seyn, your dedes or your werkes)

byforn the eyen of the juge that seeth and

310 demeth alle thinges."

TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

BOOK 1

The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen,

That was the kyng Priamus sone of Troye,

In lovynge, how his aventures fellen

Fro wo to wele, and after out of joie,

My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye.

Thesiphone, thow help me for t' endite

Thise woful vers, that wepen as I write.

To the clepe I, thow goddesse of torment,

Thow cruwel Furie, sorwynge evere in peyne,

10 Help me, that am the sorwful instrument,

That helpeth loveres, as I kan, to pleyne;

For wel sit it, the sothe for to seyne,

A woful wight to han a drery feere,

And to a sorwful tale, a sory chere.

For I, that God of Loves servantz serve,

Ne dar to Love, for myn unliklynesse,

Preyen for speed, al sholde I therfore sterve,

So fer am I from his help in derknesse.

But natheles, if this may don gladnesse

20 Unto any lovere, and his cause availle,

Have he my thonk, and myn be this travaille!

But ye loveres, that bathen in gladnesse,

If any drope of pyte in yow be,

Remembreth yow on passed hevynesse

That ye han felt, and on the adversite

Of othere folk, and thynketh how that ye

Han felt that Love dorste yow displese,

Or ye han wonne hym with to gret an ese.

And preieth for hem that ben in the cas

30 Of Troilus, as ye may after here,

That Love hem brynge in hevene to solas;

And ek for me preieth to God so dere

That I have myght to shewe, in som manere,

Swich peyne and wo as Loves folk endure,

In Troilus unsely aventure.

And biddeth ek for hem that ben despeired

In love, that nevere nyl recovered be,

And ek for hem that falsly ben apeired

Thorugh wikked tonges, be it he or she;

40 Thus biddeth God, for his benignite,

So graunte hem soone owt of this world to pace,

That ben despeired out of Loves grace.

And biddeth ek for hem that ben at ese,

That God hem graunte ay good perseveraunce,

And sende hem myght hire ladies so to plese

That it to Love be worship and plesaunce.

For so hope I my sowle best avaunce,

To prey for hem that Loves servauntz be,

And write hire wo, and lyve in charite,

50 And for to have of hem compassioun,

As though I were hire owne brother dere.

Now herkneth with a good entencioun,

For now wil I gon streght to my matere,

In which ye may the double sorwes here

Of Troilus in lovynge of Criseyde,

And how that she forsook hym er she deyde.

Yt is wel wist how that the Grekes stronge

In armes with a thousand shippes wente

To Troiewardes, and the cite longe

60 Assegeden, neigh ten yer er they stente,

And in diverse wise and oon entente,

The ravysshyng to wreken of Eleyne,

By Paris don, they wroughten al hir peyne.

Now fel it so that in the town ther was

Dwellynge a lord of gret auctorite,

A gret devyn, that clepid was Calkas,

That in science so expert was that he

Knew wel that Troie sholde destroied be,

By answere of his god, that highte thus:

70 Daun Phebus or Appollo Delphicus.

So whan this Calkas knew by calkulynge,

And ek by answer of this Appollo,

That Grekes sholden swich a peple brynge,

Thorugh which that Troie moste ben fordo,

He caste anon out of the town to go;

For wel wiste he by sort that Troye sholde

Destroyed ben, ye, wolde whoso nolde.

For which for to departen softely

Took purpos ful this forknowynge wise,

80 And to the Grekes oost ful pryvely

He stal anon; and they, in curteys wise,

Hym diden bothe worship and servyce,

In trust that he hath konnynge hem to rede

In every peril which that is to drede.

Gret rumour gan, whan it was first aspied

Thorugh al the town, and generaly was spoken,

That Calkas traitour fled was and allied

With hem of Grece, and casten to be wroken

On hym that falsly hadde his feith so broken,

90 And seyden he and al his kyn at-ones

Ben worthi for to brennen, fel and bones.

Now hadde Calkas left in this meschaunce,

Al unwist of this false and wikked dede,

His doughter, which that was in gret penaunce,

For of hire lif she was ful sore in drede,

As she that nyste what was best to rede;

For bothe a widewe was she and allone

Of any frend to whom she dorste hir mone.

Criseyde was this lady name al right.

100 As to my doom, in al Troies cite

Nas non so fair, forpassynge every wight,

So aungelik was hir natif beaute,

That lik a thing inmortal semed she,

As doth an hevenyssh perfit creature,

That down were sent in scornynge of nature.

This lady, which that alday herd at ere

Hire fadres shame, his falsnesse and tresoun,

Wel neigh out of hir wit for sorwe and fere,

In widewes habit large of samyt broun,

110 On knees she fil biforn Ector adown

With pitous vois, and tendrely wepynge,

His mercy bad, hirselven excusynge.

Now was this Ector pitous of nature,

And saugh that she was sorwfully bigon,

And that she was so fair a creature;

Of his goodnesse he gladede hire anon,

And seyde, "Lat youre fadres treson gon

Forth with meschaunce, and ye youreself in joie

Dwelleth with us, whil yow good list, in Troie.

120 "And al th' onour that men may don yow have,

As ferforth as youre fader dwelled here,

Ye shul have, and youre body shal men save,

As fer as I may ought enquere or here."

And she hym thonked with ful humble chere,

And ofter wolde, and it hadde ben his wille,

And took hire leve, and hom, and held hir stille.

And in hire hous she abood with swich meyne

As til hire honour nede was to holde;

And whil she was dwellynge in that cite,

130 Kepte hir estat, and both of yonge and olde

Ful wel biloved, and wel men of hir tolde.

But wheither that she children hadde or noon,

I rede it naught, therfore I late it goon.

The thynges fellen, as they don of werre,

Bitwixen hem of Troie and Grekes ofte;

For som day boughten they of Troie it derre,

And eft the Grekes founden nothing softe

The folk of Troie; and thus Fortune on lofte

And under eft gan hem to whielen bothe

140 Aftir hir course, ay whil that thei were wrothe.

But how this town com to destruccion

Ne falleth naught to purpos me to telle,

For it were a long digression

Fro my matere, and yow to long to dwelle.

But the Troian gestes, as they felle,

In Omer, or in Dares, or in Dite,

Whoso that kan may rede hem as they write.

But though that Grekes hem of Troie shetten,

And hir cite biseged al aboute,

150 Hire olde usage nolde they nat letten,

As for to honoure hir goddes ful devoute;

But aldirmost in honour, out of doute,

Thei hadde a relik, heet Palladion,

That was hire trist aboven everichon.

And so bifel, whan comen was the tyme

Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede

With newe grene, of lusty Veer the pryme,

And swote smellen floures white and rede,

In sondry wises shewed, as I rede,

160 The folk of Troie hire observaunces olde,

Palladiones feste for to holde.

And to the temple, in al hir beste wise,

In general ther wente many a wight,

To herknen of Palladions servyce;

And namely, so many a lusty knyght,

So many a lady fressh and mayden bright,

Ful wel arayed, both meeste, mene, and leste,

Ye, bothe for the seson and the feste.

Among thise othere folk was Criseyda,

170 In widewes habit blak; but natheles,

Right as oure firste lettre is now an A,

In beaute first so stood she, makeles.

Hire goodly lokyng gladed al the prees.

Nas nevere yet seyn thyng to ben preysed derre,

Nor under cloude blak so bright a sterre

As was Criseyde, as folk seyde everichone

That hir behelden in hir blake wede.

And yet she stood ful lowe and stille allone,

Byhynden other folk, in litel brede,

180 And neigh the dore, ay undre shames drede,

Simple of atir and debonaire of chere,

With ful assured lokyng and manere.

This Troilus, as he was wont to gide

His yonge knyghtes, lad hem up and down

In thilke large temple on every side,

Byholding ay the ladies of the town,

Now here, now there; for no devocioun

Hadde he to non, to reven hym his reste,

But gan to preise and lakken whom hym leste.

190 And in his walk ful faste he gan to wayten

If knyght or squyer of his compaignie

Gan for to syke, or lete his eighen baiten

On any womman that he koude espye.

He wolde smyle and holden it folye,

And seye hym thus, "God woot, she slepeth softe

For love of the, whan thow turnest ful ofte!

"I have herd told, pardieux, of youre lyvynge,

Ye loveres, and youre lewed observaunces,

And which a labour folk han in wynnynge

200 Of love, and in the kepyng which doutaunces;

And whan youre prey is lost, woo and penaunces.

O veray fooles, nyce and blynde be ye!

Ther nys nat oon kan war by other be."

And with that word he gan caste up the browe,

Ascaunces, "Loo! is this naught wisely spoken?"

At which the God of Love gan loken rowe

Right for despit, and shop for to ben wroken.

He kidde anon his bowe nas naught broken;

For sodeynly he hitte hym atte fulle --

210 And yet as proud a pekok kan he pulle.

O blynde world, O blynde entencioun!

How often falleth al the effect contraire

Of surquidrie and foul presumpcioun;

For kaught is proud, and kaught is debonaire.

This Troilus is clomben on the staire,

And litel weneth that he moot descenden;

But alday faileth thing that fooles wenden.

As proude Bayard gynneth for to skippe

Out of the weye, so pryketh hym his corn,

220 Til he a lasshe have of the longe whippe --

Than thynketh he, "Though I praunce al byforn

First in the trays, ful fat and newe shorn,

Yet am I but an hors, and horses lawe

I moot endure, and with my feres drawe" --

So ferde it by this fierse and proude knyght:

Though he a worthy kynges sone were,

And wende nothing hadde had swich myght

Ayeyns his wille that shuld his herte stere,

Yet with a look his herte wex a-fere,

230 That he that now was moost in pride above,

Wax sodeynly moost subgit unto love.

Forthy ensample taketh of this man,

Ye wise, proude, and worthi folkes alle,

To scornen Love, which that so soone kan

The fredom of youre hertes to hym thralle;

For evere it was, and evere it shal byfalle,

That Love is he that alle thing may bynde,

For may no man fordon the lawe of kynde.

That this be soth, hath preved and doth yit.

240 For this trowe I ye knowen alle or some,

Men reden nat that folk han gretter wit

Than they that han be most with love ynome;

And strengest folk ben therwith overcome,

The worthiest and grettest of degree:

This was, and is, and yet men shall it see.

And trewelich it sit wel to be so,

For alderwisest han therwith ben plesed;

And they that han ben aldermost in wo,

With love han ben comforted moost and esed;

250 And ofte it hath the cruel herte apesed,

And worthi folk maad worthier of name,

And causeth moost to dreden vice and shame.

Now sith it may nat goodly ben withstonde,

And is a thing so vertuous in kynde,

Refuseth nat to Love for to ben bonde,

Syn, as hymselven liste, he may yow bynde;

The yerde is bet that bowen wole and wynde

Than that that brest, and therfore I yow rede

To folowen hym that so wel kan yow lede.

260 But for to tellen forth in special

Of this kynges sone of which I tolde,

And leten other thing collateral,

Of hym thenke I my tale forth to holde,

Both of his joie and of his cares colde;

And al his werk, as touching this matere,

For I it gan, I wol therto refere.

Withinne the temple he wente hym forth pleyinge,

This Troilus, of every wight aboute,

On this lady, and now on that, lokynge,

270 Wher so she were of town or of withoute;

And upon cas bifel that thorugh a route

His eye percede, and so depe it wente,

Til on Criseyde it smot, and ther it stente.

And sodeynly he wax therwith astoned,

And gan hir bet biholde in thrifty wise.

"O mercy, God," thoughte he, "wher hastow woned,

That art so feyr and goodly to devise?"

Therwith his herte gan to sprede and rise,

And softe sighed, lest men myghte hym here,

280 And caught ayeyn his firste pleyinge chere.

She nas nat with the leste of hire stature,

But alle hire lymes so wel answerynge

Weren to wommanhod, that creature

Was nevere lasse mannyssh in semynge;

And ek the pure wise of hire mevynge

Shewed wel that men myght in hire gesse

Honour, estat, and wommanly noblesse.

To Troilus right wonder wel with alle

Gan for to like hire mevynge and hire chere,

290 Which somdel deignous was, for she let falle

Hire look a lite aside in swich manere,

Ascaunces, "What, may I nat stonden here?"

And after that hir lokynge gan she lighte,

That nevere thoughte hym seen so good a syghte.

And of hire look in him ther gan to quyken

So gret desir and such affeccioun,

That in his herte botme gan to stiken

Of hir his fixe and depe impressioun.

And though he erst hadde poured up and down,

300 He was tho glad his hornes in to shrinke:

Unnethes wiste he how to loke or wynke.

Lo, he that leet hymselven so konnynge,

And scorned hem that Loves peynes dryen,

Was ful unwar that Love hadde his dwellynge

Withinne the subtile stremes of hire yen;

That sodeynly hym thoughte he felte dyen,

Right with hire look, the spirit in his herte:

Blissed be Love, that kan thus folk converte!

She, this in blak, likynge to Troilus

310 Over alle thing, he stood for to biholde;

Ne his desir, ne wherfore he stood thus,

He neither chere made, ne word tolde;

But from afer, his manere for to holde,

On other thing his look som tyme he caste,

And eft on hire, whil that servyse laste.

And after this, nat fullich al awhaped,

Out of the temple al esilich he wente,

Repentynge hym that he hadde evere ijaped

Of Loves folk, lest fully the descente

320 Of scorn fille on hymself; but what he mente,

Lest it were wist on any manere syde,

His woo he gan dissimilen and hide.

Whan he was fro the temple thus departed,

He streght anon unto his paleys torneth.

Right with hire look thorugh-shoten and thorugh-darted,

Al feyneth he in lust that he sojorneth,

And al his chere and speche also he borneth,

And ay of Loves servantz every while,

Hymself to wrye, at hem he gan to smyle,

330 And seyde, "Lord, so ye lyve al in lest,

Ye loveres! For the konnyngeste of yow,

That serveth most ententiflich and best,

Hym tit as often harm therof as prow.

Youre hire is quyt ayeyn, ye, God woot how!

Nought wel for wel, but scorn for good servyse.

In feith, youre ordre is ruled in good wise!

"In nouncerteyn ben alle youre observaunces,

But it a sely fewe pointes be;

Ne no thing asketh so gret attendaunces

340 As doth youre lay, and that knowe alle ye;

But that is nat the worste, as mote I the!

But, tolde I yow the worste point, I leve,

Al seyde I soth, ye wolden at me greve.

"But take this: that ye loveres ofte eschuwe,

Or elles doon, of good entencioun,

Ful ofte thi lady wol it mysconstruwe,

And deme it harm in hire oppynyoun;

And yet if she, for other enchesoun,

Be wroth, than shaltow have a groyn anon.

350 Lord, wel is hym that may ben of yow oon!"

But for al this, whan that he say his tyme,

He held his pees -- non other boote hym gayned --

For love bigan his fetheres so to lyme

That wel unnethe until his folk he fayned

That other besy nedes hym destrayned;

For wo was hym, that what to doon he nyste,

But bad his folk to gon wher that hem liste.

And whan that he in chambre was allone,

He doun upon his beddes feet hym sette,

360 And first he gan to sike, and eft to grone,

And thought ay on hire so, withouten lette,

That, as he sat and wook, his spirit mette

That he hire saugh a-temple, and al the wise

Right of hire look, and gan it newe avise.

Thus gan he make a mirour of his mynde

In which he saugh al holly hire figure,

And that he wel koude in his herte fynde.

It was to hym a right good aventure

To love swich oon, and if he dede his cure

370 To serven hir, yet myghte he falle in grace,

Or ellis for oon of hire servantz pace.

Imagenynge that travaille nor grame

Ne myghte for so goodly oon be lorn

As she, ne hym for his desir no shame,

Al were it wist, but in pris and up-born

Of alle lovers wel more than biforn,

Thus argumented he in his gynnynge,

Ful unavysed of his woo comynge.

Thus took he purpos loves craft to suwe,

380 And thoughte he wolde werken pryvely,

First to hiden his desir in muwe

From every wight yborn, al outrely,

But he myghte ought recovered be therby,

Remembryng hym that love to wide yblowe

Yelt bittre fruyt, though swete seed be sowe.

And over al this, yet muchel more he thoughte

What for to speke, and what to holden inne;

And what to arten hire to love he soughte,

And on a song anon-right to bygynne,

390 And gan loude on his sorwe for to wynne;

For with good hope he gan fully assente

Criseyde for to love, and nought repente.

And of his song naught only the sentence,

As writ myn auctour called Lollius,

But pleinly, save oure tonges difference,

I dar wel seyn, in al, that Troilus

Seyde in his song, loo, every word right thus

As I shal seyn; and whoso list it here,

Loo, next this vers he may it fynden here.

400 "If no love is, O God, what fele I so?

And if love is, what thing and which is he?

If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo?

If it be wikke, a wonder thynketh me,

When every torment and adversite

That cometh of hym may to me savory thinke,

For ay thurst I, the more that ich it drynke.

"And if that at myn owen lust I brenne,

From whennes cometh my waillynge and my pleynte?

If harm agree me, wherto pleyne I thenne?

410 I noot, ne whi unwery that I feynte.

O quike deth, O swete harm so queynte,

How may of the in me swich quantite,

But if that I consente that it be?

"And if that I consente, I wrongfully

Compleyne, iwis. Thus possed to and fro,

Al sterelees withinne a boot am I

Amydde the see, bitwixen wyndes two,

That in contrarie stonden evere mo.

Allas, what is this wondre maladie?

420 For hote of cold, for cold of hote, I dye."

And to the God of Love thus seyde he

With pitous vois, "O lord, now youres is

My spirit, which that oughte youres be.

Yow thanke I, lord, that han me brought to this.

But wheither goddesse or womman, iwis,

She be, I not, which that ye do me serve;

But as hire man I wol ay lyve and sterve.

"Ye stonden in hir eighen myghtily,

As in a place unto youre vertu digne;

430 Wherfore, lord, if my service or I

May liken yow, so beth to me benigne;

For myn estat roial I here resigne

Into hire hond, and with ful humble chere

Bicome hir man, as to my lady dere."

In hym ne deyned spare blood roial

The fyr of love -- wherfro God me blesse --

Ne him forbar in no degree, for al

His vertu or his excellent prowesse,

But held hym as his thral lowe in destresse,

440 And brende hym so in soundry wise ay newe,

That sexti tyme a day he loste his hewe.

So muche, day by day, his owene thought,

For lust to hire, gan quiken and encresse,

That every other charge he sette at nought.

Forthi ful ofte, his hote fir to cesse,

To sen hire goodly lok he gan to presse;

For therby to ben esed wel he wende,

And ay the ner he was, the more he brende.

For ay the ner the fir, the hotter is --

450 This, trowe I, knoweth al this compaignye;

But were he fer or ner, I dar sey this:

By nyght or day, for wisdom or folye,

His herte, which that is his brestez ye,

Was ay on hire, that fairer was to sene

Than evere were Eleyne or Polixene.

Ek of the day ther passed nought an houre

That to hymself a thousand tyme he seyde,

"Good goodly, to whom serve I and laboure

As I best kan, now wolde God, Criseyde,

460 Ye wolden on me rewe, er that I deyde!

My dere herte, allas, myn hele and hewe

And lif is lost, but ye wol on me rewe!"

Alle other dredes weren from him fledde,

Both of th' assege and his savacioun;

N' yn him desir noon other fownes bredde,

But argumentes to his conclusioun:

That she of him wolde han compassioun,

And he to ben hire man while he may dure.

Lo, here his lif, and from the deth his cure!

470 The sharpe shoures felle of armes preve

That Ector or his othere brethren diden

Ne made hym only therfore ones meve;

And yet was he, where so men wente or riden,

Founde oon the beste, and longest tyme abiden

Ther peril was, and dide ek swich travaille

In armes, that to thenke it was merveille.

But for non hate he to the Grekes hadde,

Ne also for the rescous of the town,

Ne made hym thus in armes for to madde,

480 But only, lo, for this conclusioun:

To liken hire the bet for his renoun.

Fro day to day in armes so he spedde

That the Grekes as the deth him dredde.

And fro this forth tho refte hym love his slep,

And made his mete his foo, and ek his sorwe

Gan multiplie, that, whoso tok kep,

It shewed in his hewe both eve and morwe.

Therfor a title he gan him for to borwe

Of other siknesse, lest men of hym wende

490 That the hote fir of love hym brende,

And seyde he hadde a fevere and ferde amys.

But how it was, certeyn, kan I nat seye,

If that his lady understood nat this,

Or feynede hire she nyste, oon of the tweye;

But wel I rede that, by no manere weye,

Ne semed it that she of hym roughte,

Or of his peyne, or whatsoevere he thoughte.

But thanne felte this Troilus swich wo

That he was wel neigh wood; for ay his drede

500 Was this, that she som wight hadde loved so,

That nevere of hym she wolde han taken hede,

For which hym thoughte he felte his herte blede;

Ne of his wo ne dorste he nat bygynne

To tellen hir, for al this world to wynne.

But whan he hadde a space from his care,

Thus to hymself ful ofte he gan to pleyne;

He seyde, "O fool, now artow in the snare,

That whilom japedest at loves peyne.

Now artow hent, now gnaw thin owen cheyne!

510 Thow were ay wont ech lovere reprehende

Of thing fro which thou kanst the nat defende.

"What wol now every lovere seyn of the,

If this be wist, but evere in thin absence

Laughen in scorn, and seyn, `Loo, ther goth he

That is the man of so gret sapience,

That held us loveres leest in reverence.

Now, thanked God, he may gon in the daunce

Of hem that Love list febly for to avaunce.'

"But, O thow woful Troilus, God wolde,

520 Sith thow most loven thorugh thi destine,

That thow beset were on swich oon that sholde

Know al thi wo, al lakked hir pitee!

But also cold in love towardes the

Thi lady is as frost in wynter moone,

And thow fordon as snow in fire is soone.

"God wold I were aryved in the port

Of deth, to which my sorwe wol me lede!

A, Lord, to me it were a gret comfort;

Than were I quyt of languisshyng in drede;

530 For, be myn hidde sorwe iblowe on brede,

I shal byjaped ben a thousand tyme

More than that fol of whos folie men ryme.

"But now help, God, and ye, swete, for whom

I pleyne, ikaught, ye, nevere wight so faste!

O mercy, dere herte, and help me from

The deth, for I, whil that my lyf may laste,

More than myself wol love yow to my laste;

And with som frendly lok gladeth me, swete,

Though nevere more thing ye me byheete."

540 Thise wordes, and ful many an other to,

He spak, and called evere in his compleynte

Hire name, for to tellen hire his wo,

Til neigh that he in salte teres dreynte.

Al was for nought: she herde nat his pleynte;

And whan that he bythought on that folie,

A thousand fold his wo gan multiplie.

Bywayling in his chambre thus allone,

A frend of his that called was Pandare

Com oones in unwar, and herde hym groone,

550 And say his frend in swich destresse and care:

"Allas," quod he, "who causeth al this fare?

O mercy, God! What unhap may this meene?

Han now thus soone Grekes maad yow leene?

"Or hastow som remors of conscience,

And art now falle in som devocioun,

And wailest for thi synne and thin offence,

And hast for ferde caught attricioun?

God save hem that biseged han oure town,

That so kan leye oure jolite on presse,

560 And bringe oure lusty folk to holynesse!"

Thise wordes seyde he for the nones alle,

That with swich thing he myght hym angry maken,

And with angre don his wo to falle,

As for the tyme, and his corage awaken.

But wel he wist, as fer as tonges spaken,

Ther nas a man of gretter hardinesse

Thanne he, ne more desired worthinesse.

"What cas," quod Troilus, "or what aventure

Hath gided the to sen me langwisshinge,

570 That am refus of every creature?

But for the love of God, at my preyinge,

Go hennes awey; for certes my deyinge

Wol the disese, and I mot nedes deye;

Therfore go wey, ther is na more to seye.

"But if thow wene I be thus sik for drede,

It is naught so, and therfore scorne nought.

Ther is another thing I take of hede

Wel more than aught the Grekes han yet wrought,

Which cause is of my deth, for sorowe and thought;

580 But though that I now telle it the ne leste,

Be thow naught wroth; I hide it for the beste."

This Pandare, that neigh malt for wo and routhe,

Ful ofte seyde, "Allas, what may this be?

Now frend," quod he, "if evere love or trouthe

Hath ben, or is, bitwixen the and me,

Ne do thow nevere swich a crueltee

To hiden fro thi frend so gret a care!

Wostow naught wel that it am I, Pandare?

"I wol parten with the al thi peyne,

590 If it be so I do the no comfort,

As it is frendes right, soth for to seyne,

To entreparten wo as glad desport.

I have, and shal, for trewe or fals report,

In wrong and right iloved the al my lyve:

Hid nat thi wo fro me, but telle it blyve."

Than gan this sorwful Troylus to syke,

And seide hym thus: "God leve it be my beste

To telle it the; for sith it may the like,

Yet wol I telle it, though myn herte breste.

600 And wel woot I thow mayst do me no reste;

But lest thow deme I truste nat to the,

Now herke, frend, for thus it stant with me.

"Love, ayeins the which whoso defendeth

Hymselven most, hym alderlest avaylleth,

With disespeyr so sorwfulli me offendeth,

That streight unto the deth myn herte sailleth.

Therto desir so brennyngly me assailleth,

That to ben slayn it were a gretter joie

To me than kyng of Grece ben and Troye.

610 "Suffiseth this, my fulle frend Pandare,

That I have seyd, for now wostow my wo;

And for the love of God, my colde care,

So hide it wel -- I tolde it nevere to mo,

For harmes myghten folwen mo than two

If it were wist -- but be thow in gladnesse,

And lat me sterve, unknowe, of my destresse."

"How hastow thus unkyndely and longe

Hid this fro me, thow fol?" quod Pandarus.

"Paraunter thow myghte after swich oon longe,

620 That myn avys anoon may helpen us."

"This were a wonder thing," quod Troilus;

"Thow koudest nevere in love thiselven wisse.

How devel maistow brynge me to blisse?"

"Ye, Troilus, now herke," quod Pandare;

"Though I be nyce, it happeth often so,

That oon that excesse doth ful yvele fare

By good counseil kan kepe his frend therfro.

I have myself ek seyn a blynd man goo

Ther as he fel that couth. loken wide;

630 A fool may ek a wis-man ofte gide.

"A wheston is no kervyng instrument,

But yet it maketh sharppe kervyng tolis;

And there thow woost that I have aught myswent,

Eschuw thow that, for swich thing to the scole is.

Thus often wise men ben war by foolys.

If thow do so, thi wit is wel bewared;

By his contrarie is every thyng declared.

"For how myghte evere swetnesse han ben knowe

To him that nevere tasted bitternesse?

640 Ne no man may ben inly glad, I trowe,

That nevere was in sorwe or som destresse.

Eke whit by blak, by shame ek worthinesse,

Ech set by other, more for other semeth,

As men may se, and so the wyse it demeth.

"Sith thus of two contraries is o lore,

I, that have in love so ofte assayed

Grevances, oughte konne, and wel the more,

Counseillen the of that thow art amayed.

Ek the ne aughte nat ben yvel appayed,

650 Though I desyre with the for to bere

Thyn hevy charge; it shal the lasse dere.

"I woot wel that it fareth thus be me

As to thi brother, Paris, an herdesse

Which that icleped was Oenone

Wrot in a compleynte of hir hevynesse.

Yee say the lettre that she wrot, I gesse?"

"Nay, nevere yet, ywys," quod Troilus.

"Now," quod Pandare, "herkne, it was thus:

"`Phebus, that first fond art of medicyne,'

660 Quod she, `and couth. in every wightes care

Remedye and reed, by herbes he knew fyne,

Yet to hymself his konnyng was ful bare,

For love hadde hym so bounden in a snare,

Al for the doughter of the kyng Amete,

That al his craft ne koude his sorwes bete.'

"Right so fare I, unhappyly for me.

I love oon best, and that me smerteth sore;

And yet, peraunter, kan I reden the

And nat myself; repreve me na more.

670 I have no cause, I woot wel, for to sore

As doth an hauk that listeth for to pleye;

But to thin help yet somwhat kan I seye.

"And of o thing right siker maistow be,

That certein, for to dyen in the peyne,

That I shal nevere mo discoveren the;

Ne, by my trouthe, I kepe nat restreyne

The fro thi love, theigh that it were Eleyne

That is thi brother wif, if ich it wiste:

Be what she be, and love hire as the liste!

680 "Therfore, as frend, fullich in me assure,

And tel me plat what is th' enchesoun

And final cause of wo that ye endure;

For douteth nothyng, myn entencioun

Nis nat to yow of reprehencioun,

To speke as now, for no wight may byreve

A man to love, tyl that hym list to leve.

"And witteth wel that bothe two ben vices:

Mistrusten alle, or elles alle leve.

But wel I woot, the mene of it no vice is,

690 For to trusten som wight is a preve

Of trouth; and forthi wolde I fayn remeve

Thi wrong conseyte, and do the som wyght triste

Thi wo to telle; and tel me, if the liste.

"The wise seith, `Wo hym that is allone,

For, and he falle, he hath non helpe to ryse';

And sith thow hast a felawe, tel thi mone;

For this nys naught, certein, the nexte wyse

To wynnen love -- as techen us the wyse --

To walwe and wepe as Nyobe the queene,

700 Whos teres yet in marble ben yseene.

"Lat be thy wepyng and thi drerynesse,

And lat us lissen wo with oother speche;

So may thy woful tyme seme lesse.

Delyte nat in wo thi wo to seche,

As don thise foles that hire sorwes eche

With sorwe, whan thei han mysaventure,

And listen naught to seche hem other cure.

"Men seyn, `to wrecche is consolacioun

To have another felawe in hys peyne.'

710 That owghte wel ben oure opynyoun,

For bothe thow and I of love we pleyne.

So ful of sorwe am I, soth for to seyne,

That certeinly namore harde grace

May sitte on me, for-why ther is no space.

"If God wol, thow art nat agast of me,

Lest I wolde of thi lady the bygyle!

Thow woost thyself whom that I love, parde,

As I best kan, gon sithen longe while.

And sith thow woost I do it for no wyle,

720 And sith I am he that thow trustest moost,

Tel me somwhat, syn al my wo thow woost."

Yet Troilus for al this no word seyde,

But longe he ley as stylle as he ded were;

And after this with sikynge he abreyde,

And to Pandarus vois he lente his ere,

And up his eighen caste he, that in feere

Was Pandarus, lest that in frenesie

He sholde falle, or elles soone dye;

And cryde "Awake!" ful wonderlich and sharpe;

730 "What! Slombrestow as in a litargie?

Or artow lik an asse to the harpe,

That hereth sown whan men the strynges plye,

But in his mynde of that no melodie

May sinken hym to gladen, for that he

So dul ys of his bestialite?"

And with that, Pandare of his wordes stente;

And Troilus yet hym nothyng answerde,

For-why to tellen nas nat his entente

To nevere no man, for whom that he so ferde;

740 For it is seyd, "Men maketh ofte a yerde

With which the maker is hymself ybeten

In sondry manere," as thise wyse treten,

And namelich in his counseil tellynge

That toucheth love that oughte ben secree;

For of himself it wol ynough out sprynge,

But if that it the bet governed be.

Ek som tyme it is a craft to seme fle

Fro thyng whych in effect men hunte faste;

Al this gan Troilus in his herte caste.

750 But natheles, whan he hadde herd hym crye

"Awake!" he gan to syken wonder soore,

And seyde, "Frend, though that I stylle lye,

I am nat deef. Now pees, and crye namore,

For I have herd thi wordes and thi lore;

But suffre me my meschief to bywaille,

For thy proverbes may me naught availle.

"Nor other cure kanstow non for me;

Ek I nyl nat ben cured; I wol deye.

What knowe I of the queene Nyobe?

760 Lat be thyne olde ensaumples, I the preye."

"No," quod Pandarus, "therfore I seye,

Swych is delit of foles to bywepe

Hire wo, but seken bote they ne kepe.

"Now knowe I that ther reson in the failleth.

But tel me, if I wiste what she were

For whom that the al this mysaunter ailleth,

Dorstestow that I tolde in hire ere

Thi wo, sith thow darst naught thiself for feere,

And hire bysoughte on the to han som routhe?"

770 "Why, nay," quod he, "by God and by my trouthe!"

"What, nat as bisyly," quod Pandarus,

"As though myn owene lyf lay on this nede?"

"No, certes, brother," quod this Troilus,

"And whi? For that thow scholdest nevere spede."

"Wostow that wel?" -- "Ye, that is out of drede,"

Quod Troilus; "for al that evere ye konne,

She nyl to noon swich wrecche as I ben wonne."

Quod Pandarus, "Allas! What may this be,

That thow dispeired art thus causeles?

780 What! lyveth nat thi lady, bendiste?

How wostow so that thow art graceles?

Swich yvel is nat alwey booteles.

Why, put nat impossible thus thi cure,

Syn thyng to come is oft in aventure.

"I graunte wel that thow endurest wo

As sharp as doth he Ticius in helle,

Whos stomak foughles tiren evere moo

That hightyn volturis, as bokes telle;

But I may nat endure that thow dwelle

790 In so unskilful an oppynyoun

That of thi wo is no curacioun.

"But oones nyltow, for thy coward herte,

And for thyn ire and folissh wilfulnesse,

For wantrust, tellen of thy sorwes smerte,

Ne to thyn owen help don bysynesse

As muche as speke a resoun moore or lesse,

But list as he that lest of nothyng recche.

What womman koude loven swich a wrecche?

"What may she demen oother of thy deeth,

800 If thow thus deye, and she not why it is,

But that for feere is yolden up thy breth,

For Grekes han biseged us, iwys?

Lord, which a thonk than shaltow han of this!

Thus wol she seyn, and al the town attones,

`The wrecche is ded, the devel have his bones!'

"Thow mayst allone here wepe and crye and knele --

But love a womman that she woot it nought,

And she wol quyte it that thow shalt nat fele;

Unknowe, unkist, and lost that is unsought.

810 What, many a man hath love ful deere ybought

Twenty wynter that his lady wiste,

That nevere yet his lady mouth he kiste.

"What sholde he therfore fallen in dispayr,

Or be recreant for his owne tene,

Or slen hymself, al be his lady fair?

Nay, nay, but evere in oon be fressh and grene

To serve and love his deere hertes queene,

And thynk it is a guerdon hire to serve,

A thousand fold moore than he kan deserve."

820 Of that word took hede Troilus,

And thoughte anon what folie he was inne,

And how that soth hym seyde Pandarus,

That for to slen hymself myght he nat wynne,

But bothe don unmanhod and a synne,

And of his deth his lady naught to wite;

For of his wo, God woot, she knew ful lite.

And with that thought he gan ful sore syke,

And seyde, "Allas! What is me best to do?"

To whom Pandare answered, "If the like,

830 The beste is that thow telle me al thi wo;

And have my trouthe, but thow it fynde so

I be thi boote, er that it be ful longe,

To pieces do me drawe and sithen honge!"

"Ye, so thow seyst," quod Troilus tho, "allas!

But, God woot, it is naught the rather so.

Ful hard were it to helpen in this cas,

For wel fynde I that Fortune is my fo;

Ne al the men that riden konne or go

May of hire cruel whiel the harm withstonde;

840 For as hire list she pleyeth with free and bonde."

Quod Pandarus, "Than blamestow Fortune

For thow art wroth; ye, now at erst I see.

Woost thow nat wel that Fortune is comune

To everi manere wight in som degree?

And yet thow hast this comfort, lo, parde,

That, as hire joies moten overgon,

So mote hire sorwes passen everechon.

"For if hire whiel stynte any thyng to torne,

Than cessed she Fortune anon to be.

850 Now, sith hire whiel by no way may sojourne,

What woostow if hire mutabilite

Right as thyselven list wol don by the,

Or that she be naught fer fro thyn helpynge?

Paraunter thow hast cause for to synge.

"And therfore wostow what I the biseche?

Lat be thy wo and tornyng to the grounde;

For whoso list have helyng of his leche,

To hym byhoveth first unwre his wownde.

To Cerberus yn helle ay be I bounde,

860 Were it for my suster, al thy sorwe,

By my wil she sholde al be thyn to-morwe.

"Look up, I seye, and telle me what she is

Anon, that I may gon about thy nede.

Knowe ich hire aught? For my love, telle me this.

Thanne wolde I hopen rather for to spede."

Tho gan the veyne of Troilus to blede,

For he was hit, and wax al reed for shame.

"A ha!" quod Pandare; "Here bygynneth game."

And with that word he gan hym for to shake,

870 And seyde, "Thef, thow shalt hyre name telle."

But tho gan sely Troilus for to quake

As though men sholde han led hym into helle,

And seyde, "Allas, of al my wo the welle,

Thanne is my swete fo called Criseyde!"

And wel neigh with the word for feere he deide.

And whan that Pandare herde hire name nevene,

Lord, he was glad, and seyde, "Frend so deere,

Now far aright, for Joves name in hevene.

Love hath byset the wel; be of good cheere!

880 For of good name and wisdom and manere

She hath ynough, and ek of gentilesse.

If she be fayr, thow woost thyself, I gesse,

"Ne nevere saugh a more bountevous

Of hire estat, n' a gladder, ne of speche

A frendlyer, n' a more gracious

For to do wel, ne lasse hadde nede to seche

What for to don; and al this bet to eche,

In honour, to as fer as she may strecche,

A kynges herte semeth by hyrs a wrecche.

890 "And forthi loke of good comfort thow be;

For certeinly, the ferste poynt is this

Of noble corage and wel ordeyne,

A man to have pees with hymself, ywis.

So oghtist thow, for noht but good it is

To love wel, and in a worthy place;

The oghte not to clepe it hap, but grace.

"And also thynk, and therwith glade the,

That sith thy lady vertuous is al,

So foloweth it that there is some pitee

900 Amonges alle thise other in general;

And forthi se that thow, in special,

Requere naught that is ayeyns hyre name;

For vertu streccheth naught hymself to shame.

"But wel is me that evere that I was born,

That thow biset art in so good a place;

For by my trouthe, in love I dorste have sworn

The sholde nevere han tid thus fayr a grace.

And wostow why? For thow were wont to chace

At Love in scorn, and for despit him calle

910 `Seynt Idiot, lord of thise foles alle.'

"How often hastow maad thi nyce japes,

And seyd that Loves servantz everichone

Of nycete ben verray Goddes apes;

And some wolde mucche hire mete allone,

Liggyng abedde, and make hem for to grone;

And som, thow seydest, hadde a blaunche fevere,

And preydest God he sholde nevere kevere.

"And som of hem took on hym, for the cold,

More than ynough, so seydestow ful ofte.

920 And som han feyned ofte tyme, and told

How that they waken, whan thei slepen softe;

And thus they wolde han brought hemself alofte,

And natheles were under at the laste.

Thus seydestow, and japedest ful faste.

"Yet seydestow that for the moore part

Thise loveres wolden speke in general,

And thoughten that it was a siker art,

For faylyng, for t' assaien overal.

Now may I jape of the, if that I shal;

930 But natheles, though that I sholde deye,

That thow art non of tho, I dorste saye.

"Now bet thi brest, and sey to God of Love,

`Thy grace, lord, for now I me repente,

If I mysspak, for now myself I love.'

Thus sey with al thyn herte in good entente."

Quod Troilus, "A, lord! I me consente,

And preye to the my japes thow foryive,

And I shal nevere more whyle I live."

"Thow seist wel," quod Pandare, "and now I hope

940 That thow the goddes wrathe hast al apesed;

And sithen thow hast wopen many a drope,

And seyd swych thyng wherwith thi god is plesed,

Now wolde nevere god but thow were esed!

And thynk wel, she of whom rist al thi wo

Hereafter may thy comfort be also.

"For thilke grownd that bereth the wedes wikke

Bereth ek thise holsom herbes, as ful ofte

Next the foule netle, rough and thikke,

The rose waxeth swoote and smothe and softe;

950 And next the valeye is the hil o-lofte;

And next the derke nyght the glade morwe;

And also joie is next the fyn of sorwe.

"Now loke that atempre be thi bridel,

And for the beste ay suffre to the tyde,

Or elles al oure labour is on ydel:

He hasteth wel that wisely kan abyde.

Be diligent and trewe, and ay wel hide;

Be lusty, fre; persevere in thy servyse,

And al is wel, if thow werke in this wyse.

960 "But he that departed is in everi place

Is nowher hol, as writen clerkes wyse.

What wonder is, though swich oon have no grace?

Ek wostow how it fareth of som servise,

As plaunte a tree or herbe, in sondry wyse,

And on the morwe pulle it up as blyve!

No wonder is, though it may nevere thryve.

"And sith that God of Love hath the bistowed

In place digne unto thi worthinesse,

Stond faste, for to good port hastow rowed;

970 And of thiself, for any hevynesse,

Hope alwey wel; for, but if drerinesse

Or over-haste oure bothe labour shende,

I hope of this to maken a good ende.

"And wostow why I am the lasse afered

Of this matere with my nece trete?

For this have I herd seyd of wyse lered,

Was nevere man or womman yet bigete

That was unapt to suffren loves hete,

Celestial, or elles love of kynde;

980 Forthy som grace I hope in hire to fynde.

"And for to speke of hire in specyal,

Hire beaute to bithynken and hire youthe,

It sit hire naught to ben celestial

As yet, though that hire liste bothe and kowthe;

But trewely, it sate hire wel right nowthe

A worthi knyght to loven and cherice,

And but she do, I holde it for a vice.

"Wherfore I am, and wol ben, ay redy

To peyne me to do yow this servyse;

990 For bothe yow to plese thus hope I

Herafterward; for ye ben bothe wyse,

And konne it counseil kepe in swych a wyse

That no man shal the wiser of it be;

And so we may ben gladed alle thre.

"And, by my trouthe, I have right now of the

A good conceyte in my wit, as I gesse,

And what it is, I wol now that thow se.

I thenke, sith that Love, of his goodnesse,

Hath the converted out of wikkednesse,

1000 That thow shalt ben the beste post, I leve,

Of al his lay, and moost his foos to greve.

"Ensample why, se now thise wise clerkes,

That erren aldermost ayeyn a lawe,

And ben converted from hire wikked werkes

Thorugh grace of God that list hem to hym drawe,

Thanne arn thise folk that han moost God in awe,

And strengest feythed ben, I undirstonde,

And konne an errowr alderbest withstonde."

Whan Troilus hadde herd Pandare assented

1010 To ben his help in lovyng of Cryseyde,

Weex of his wo, as who seith, untormented,

But hotter weex his love, and thus he seyde,

With sobre chere, although his herte pleyde:

"Now blisful Venus helpe, er that I sterve,

Of the, Pandare, I mowe som thank deserve.

"But, deere frend, how shal my wo be lesse

Til this be doon? And good, ek telle me this:

How wiltow seyn of me and my destresse,

Lest she be wroth -- this drede I moost, ywys --

1020 Or nyl nat here or trowen how it is.

Al this drede I, and ek for the manere

Of the, hire em, she nyl no swich thyng here."

Quod Pandarus, "Thow hast a ful gret care

Lest that the cherl may falle out of the moone!

Whi, Lord! I hate of the thi nyce fare!

Whi, entremete of that thow hast to doone!

For Goddes love, I bidde the a boone:

So lat m' alone, and it shal be thi beste."

"Whi, frend," quod he, "now do right as the leste.

1030 "But herke, Pandare, o word, for I nolde

That thow in me wendest so gret folie,

That to my lady I desiren sholde

That toucheth harm or any vilenye;

For dredeles me were levere dye

Than she of me aught elles understode

But that that myghte sownen into goode."

Tho lough this Pandare, and anon answerde,

"And I thi borugh? Fy! No wight doth but so.

I roughte naught though that she stood and herde

1040 How that thow seist! but farewel, I wol go.

Adieu! Be glad! God spede us bothe two!

Yef me this labour and this bisynesse,

And of my spede be thyn al that swetnesse."

Tho Troilus gan doun on knees to falle,

And Pandare in his armes hente faste,

And seyde, "Now, fy on the Grekes alle!

Yet, parde, God shal helpe us atte laste.

And dredelees, if that my lyf may laste,

And God toforn, lo, som of hem shal smerte;

1050 And yet m' athenketh that this avant m' asterte!

"Now, Pandare, I kan na more seye,

But, thow wis, thow woost, thow maist, thow art al!

My lif, my deth, hol in thyn hond I leye.

Help now!" Quod he, "Yis, by mi trowthe, I shal."

"God yelde the, frend, and this in special,"

Quod Troilus, "that thow me recomande

To hire that to the deth me may comande."

This Pandarus, tho desirous to serve

His fulle frend, than seyde in this manere:

1060 "Farwell, and thenk I wol thi thank deserve!

Have here my trowthe, and that thow shalt wel here."

And went his wey, thenkyng on this matere,

And how he best myghte hire biseche of grace,

And fynde a tyme therto, and a place.

For everi wight that hath an hous to founde

Ne renneth naught the werk for to bygynne

With rakel hond, but he wol bide a stounde,

And sende his hertes line out fro withinne

Aldirfirst his purpos for to wynne.

1070 Al this Pandare in his herte thoughte,

And caste his werk ful wisely or he wroughte.

But Troilus lay tho no lenger down,

But up anon upon his stede bay,

And in the feld he pleyde tho leoun;

Wo was that Grek that with hym mette a-day!

And in the town his manere tho forth ay

So goodly was, and gat hym so in grace,

That ecch hym loved that loked on his face.

For he bicom the frendlieste wight,

1080 The gentilest, and ek the mooste fre,

The thriftiest, and oon the beste knyght

That in his tyme was or myghte be;

Dede were his japes and his cruelte,

His heighe port and his manere estraunge,

And ecch of tho gan for a vertu chaunge.

Now lat us stynte of Troilus a stounde,

That fareth lik a man that hurt is soore,

And is somdeel of akyngge of his wownde

Ylissed wel, but heeled no deel moore,

1090 And, as an esy pacyent, the loore

Abit of hym that gooth aboute his cure;

And thus he dryeth forth his aventure.

BOOK 2

Owt of thise blake wawes for to saylle,

O wynd, o wynd, the weder gynneth clere;

For in this see the boot hath swych travaylle,

Of my connyng, that unneth I it steere.

This see clepe I the tempestous matere

Of disespeir that Troilus was inne;

But now of hope the kalendes bygynne.

O lady myn, that called art Cleo,

Thow be my speed fro this forth, and my Muse,

10 To ryme wel this book til I have do;

Me nedeth here noon other art to use.

Forwhi to every lovere I me excuse,

That of no sentement I this endite,

But out of Latyn in my tonge it write.

Wherfore I nyl have neither thank ne blame

Of al this werk, but prey yow mekely,

Disblameth me if any word be lame,

For as myn auctour seyde, so sey I.

Ek though I speeke of love unfelyngly,

20 No wondre is, for it nothyng of newe is.

A blynd man kan nat juggen wel in hewis.

Ye knowe ek that in forme of speche is chaunge

Withinne a thousand yeer, and wordes tho

That hadden pris, now wonder nyce and straunge

Us thinketh hem, and yet thei spake hem so,

And spedde as wel in love as men now do;

Ek for to wynnen love in sondry ages,

In sondry londes, sondry ben usages.

And forthi if it happe in any wyse,

30 That here be any lovere in this place

That herkneth, as the storie wol devise,

How Troilus com to his lady grace,

And thenketh, "So nold I nat love purchace,"

Or wondreth on his speche or his doynge,

I noot; but it is me no wonderynge.

For every wight which that to Rome went

Halt nat o path, or alwey o manere;

Ek in som lond were al the game shent,

If that they ferde in love as men don here,

40 As thus, in opyn doyng or in chere,

In visityng in forme, or seyde hire sawes;

Forthi men seyn, "Ecch contree hath his lawes."

Ek scarsly ben ther in this place thre

That have in love seid lik, and don, in al;

For to thi purpos this may liken the,

And the right nought; yet al is seid or schal;

Ek som men grave in tree, some in ston wal,

As it bitit. But syn I have bigonne,

Myn auctour shal I folwen, if I konne.

50 In May, that moder is of monthes glade,

That fresshe floures, blew and white and rede,

Ben quike agayn, that wynter dede made,

And ful of bawme is fletyng every mede,

Whan Phebus doth his bryghte bemes sprede

Right in the white Bole, it so bitidde,

As I shal synge, on Mayes day the thrydde,

That Pandarus, for al his wise speche,

Felt ek his part of loves shotes keene,

That, koude he nevere so wel of lovyng preche,

60 It made his hewe a-day ful ofte greene.

So shop it that hym fil that day a teene

In love, for which in wo to bedde he wente,

And made, er it was day, ful many a wente.

The swalowe Proigne, with a sorowful lay,

Whan morwen com, gan make hire waymentynge

Whi she forshapen was; and evere lay

Pandare abedde, half in a slomberynge,

Til she so neigh hym made hire cheterynge

How Tereus gan forth hire suster take,

70 That with the noyse of hire he gan awake,

And gan to calle, and dresse hym up to ryse,

Remembryng hym his erand was to doone

From Troilus, and ek his grete emprise;

And caste and knew in good plit was the moone

To doon viage, and took his way ful soone

Unto his neces palays ther biside.

Now Janus, god of entree, thow hym gyde!

Whan he was come unto his neces place,

"Wher is my lady?" to hire folk quod he;

80 And they hym tolde, and he forth in gan pace,

And fond two othere ladys sete and she,

Withinne a paved parlour, and they thre

Herden a mayden reden hem the geste

Of the siege of Thebes, while hem leste.

Quod Pandarus, "Madame, God yow see,

With youre book and all the compaignie!"

"Ey, uncle myn, welcome iwys," quod she;

And up she roos, and by the hond in hye

She took hym faste, and seyde, "This nyght thrie,

90 To goode mot it turne, of yow I mette."

And with that word she doun on bench hym sette.

"Ye, nece, yee shal faren wel the bet,

If God wol, al this yeer," quod Pandarus;

"But I am sory that I have yow let

To herken of youre book ye preysen thus.

For Goddes love, what seith it? telle it us!

Is it of love? O, som good ye me leere!"

"Uncle," quod she, "youre maistresse is nat here."

With that thei gonnen laughe, and tho she seyde,

100 "This romaunce is of Thebes that we rede;

And we han herd how that kyng Layus deyde

Thorugh Edippus his sone, and al that dede;

And here we stynten at thise lettres rede --

How the bisshop, as the book kan telle,

Amphiorax, fil thorugh the ground to helle."

Quod Pandarus, "Al this knowe I myselve,

And al th' assege of Thebes and the care;

For herof ben ther maked bookes twelve.

But lat be this, and telle me how ye fare.

110 Do wey youre barbe, and shew youre face bare;

Do wey youre book, rys up, and lat us daunce,

And lat us don to May som observaunce."

"I! God forbede!" quod she. "Be ye mad?

Is that a widewes lif, so God yow save?

By God, ye maken me ryght soore adrad!

Ye ben so wylde, it semeth as ye rave.

It satte me wel bet ay in a cave

To bidde and rede on holy seyntes lyves;

Lat maydens gon to daunce, and yonge wyves."

120 "As evere thrive I," quod this Pandarus,

"Yet koude I telle a thyng to doon yow pleye."

"Now, uncle deere," quod she, "telle it us

For Goddes love; is than th' assege aweye?

I am of Grekes so fered that I deye."

"Nay, nay," quod he, "as evere mote I thryve,

It is a thing wel bet than swyche fyve."

"Ye, holy God," quod she, "what thyng is that?

What! Bet than swyche fyve? I! Nay, ywys!

For al this world ne kan I reden what

130 It sholde ben; some jape I trowe is this;

And but youreselven telle us what it is,

My wit is for t' arede it al to leene.

As help me God, I not nat what ye meene."

"And I youre borugh, ne nevere shal, for me,

This thyng be told to yow, as mote I thryve!"

"And whi so, uncle myn? Whi so?" quod she.

"By God," quod he, "that wol I telle as blyve!

For proudder womman is ther noon on lyve,

And ye it wiste, in al the town of Troye.

140 I jape nought, as evere have I joye!"

Tho gan she wondren moore than biforn

A thousand fold, and down hire eyghen caste;

For nevere, sith the tyme that she was born,

To knowe thyng desired she so faste;

And with a syk she seyde hym atte laste,

"Now, uncle myn, I nyl yow nought displese,

Nor axen more that may do yow disese."

So after this, with many wordes glade,

And frendly tales, and with merie chiere,

150 Of this and that they pleide, and gonnen wade

In many an unkouth, glad, and dep matere,

As frendes doon whan thei ben mette yfere,

Tyl she gan axen hym how Ector ferde,

That was the townes wal and Grekes yerde.

"Ful wel, I thonk it God," quod Pandarus,

"Save in his arm he hath a litel wownde;

And ek his fresshe brother Troilus,

The wise, worthi Ector the secounde,

In whom that alle vertu list habounde,

160 As alle trouthe and alle gentilesse,

Wisdom, honour, fredom, and worthinesse."

"In good feith, em," quod she, "that liketh me

Thei faren wel; God save hem bothe two!

For trewelich I holde it gret deynte

A kynges sone in armes wel to do,

And ben of goode condiciouns therto;

For gret power and moral vertu here

Is selde yseyn in o persone yfeere."

"In good faith, that is soth," quod Pandarus.

170 "But, by my trouthe, the kyng hath sones tweye --

That is to mene, Ector and Troilus --

That certeynly, though that I sholde deye,

Thei ben as voide of vices, dar I seye,

As any men that lyven under the sonne:

Hire myght is wyde yknowe, and what they konne.

"Of Ector nedeth it namore for to telle:

In al this world ther nys a bettre knyght

Than he, that is of worthynesse welle;

And he wel moore vertu hath than myght;

180 This knoweth many a wis and worthi wight.

The same pris of Troilus I seye;

God help me so, I knowe nat swiche tweye."

"By God," quod she, "of Ector that is sooth.

Of Troilus the same thyng trowe I;

For, dredeles, men tellen that he doth

In armes day by day so worthily,

And bereth hym here at hom so gentily

To everi wight, that alle pris hath he

Of hem that me were levest preysed be."

190 "Ye sey right sooth, ywys," quod Pandarus;

"For yesterday, whoso had with hym ben,

He myghte han wondred upon Troilus;

For nevere yet so thikke a swarm of been

Ne fleigh, as Grekes for hym gonne fleen,

And thorugh the feld, in everi wightes eere,

Ther nas no cry but `Troilus is there!'

"Now here, now ther, he hunted hem so faste,

Ther nas but Grekes blood -- and Troilus.

Now hem he hurte, and hem al down he caste;

200 Ay wher he wente, it was arayed thus:

He was hire deth, and sheld and lif for us,

That, as that day, ther dorste non withstonde

Whil that he held his blody swerd in honde.

"Therto he is the frendlieste man

Of gret estat that evere I saugh my lyve;

And wher hym lest, best felawshipe kan

To swich as hym thynketh able for to thryve."

And with that word tho Pandarus, as blyve,

He took his leve, and seyde, "I wol gon henne."

210 "Nay, blame have I, myn uncle," quod she thenne.

"What aileth yow to be thus wery soone,

And namelich of wommen? Wol ye so?

Nay, sitteth down; by God, I have to doone

With yow, to speke of wisdom er ye go."

And everi wight that was aboute hem tho,

That herde that, gan fer awey to stonde,

Whil they two hadde al that hem liste in honde.

Whan that hire tale al brought was to an ende,

Of hire estat and of hire governaunce,

220 Quod Pandarus, "Now tyme is that I wende.

But yet, I say, ariseth, lat us daunce,

And cast youre widewes habit to mischaunce!

What list yow thus youreself to disfigure,

Sith yow is tid thus fair an aventure?"

"A, wel bithought! For love of God," quod she,

"Shal I nat witen what ye meene of this?"

"No, this thing axeth leyser," tho quod he,

"And eke me wolde muche greve, iwis,

If I it tolde and ye it toke amys.

230 Yet were it bet my tonge for to stille

Than seye a soth that were ayeyns youre wille.

"For, nece, by the goddesse Mynerve,

And Jupiter, that maketh the thondre rynge,

And by the blisful Venus that I serve,

Ye ben the womman in this world lyvynge --

Withouten paramours, to my wyttynge --

That I best love, and lothest am to greve;

And that ye weten wel youreself, I leve."

"Iwis, myn uncle," quod she, "grant mercy!

240 Youre frendshipe have I founden evere yit.

I am to no man holden, trewely,

So muche as yow, and have so litel quyt;

And with the grace of God, emforth my wit,

As in my gylt I shal yow nevere offende;

And if I have er this, I wol amende.

"But for the love of God I yow biseche,

As ye ben he that I love moost and triste,

Lat be to me youre fremde manere speche,

And sey to me, youre nece, what yow liste."

250 And with that word hire uncle anoon hire kiste,

And seyde, "Gladly, leve nece dere!

Tak it for good, that I shal sey yow here."

With that she gan hire eighen down to caste,

And Pandarus to coghe gan a lite,

And seyde, "Nece, alwey -- lo! -- to the laste,

How so it be that som men hem delite

With subtyl art hire tales for to endite,

Yet for al that, in hire entencioun

Hire tale is al for som conclusioun.

260 "And sithe th' ende is every tales strengthe,

And this matere is so bihovely,

What sholde I peynte or drawen it on lengthe

To yow, that ben my frend so feythfully?"

And with that word he gan right inwardly

Byholden hire and loken on hire face,

And seyde, "On swich a mirour goode grace!"

Than thought he thus: "If I my tale endite

Aught harde, or make a proces any whyle,

She shal no savour have therin but lite,

270 And trowe I wolde hire in my wil bigyle;

For tendre wittes wenen al be wyle

Theras thei kan nought pleynly understonde;

Forthi hire wit to serven wol I fonde" --

And loked on hire in a bysi wyse,

And she was war that he byheld hire so,

And seyde, "Lord! so faste ye m' avise!

Sey ye me nevere er now? What sey ye, no?"

"Yis, yys," quod he, "and bet wol er I go!

But be my trouthe, I thoughte now if ye

280 Be fortunat, for now men shal it se.

"For to every wight som goodly aventure

Som tyme is shape, if he it kan receyven;

But if he wol take of it no cure,

Whan that it commeth, but wilfully it weyven,

Lo, neyther cas ne fortune hym deceyven,

But ryght his verray slouthe and wrecchednesse;

And swich a wight is for to blame, I gesse.

"Good aventure, O beele nece, have ye

Ful lightly founden, and ye konne it take;

290 And for the love of God, and ek of me,

Cache it anon, lest aventure slake!

What sholde I lenger proces of it make?

Yif me youre hond, for in this world is noon --

If that yow list -- a wight so wel bygon.

"And sith I speke of good entencioun,

As I to yow have told wel herebyforn,

And love as wel youre honour and renoun

As creature in al this world yborn,

By alle the othes that I have yow sworn,

300 And ye be wrooth therfore, or wene I lye,

Ne shal I nevere sen yow eft with ye.

"Beth naught agast, ne quaketh naught! Wherto?

Ne chaungeth naught for fere so youre hewe!

For hardely the werst of this is do;

And though my tale as now be to yow newe,

Yet trist alwey ye shal me fynde trewe;

And were it thyng that me thoughte unsittynge,

To yow wolde I no swiche tales brynge."

"Now, good em, for Goddes love, I preye,"

310 Quod she, "come of, and telle me what it is.

For both I am agast what ye wol seye,

And ek me longeth it to wite, ywis;

For whethir it be wel or be amys,

Say on, lat me nat in this feere dwelle."

"So wol I doon; now herkeneth! I shall telle:

"Now, nece myn, the kynges deere sone,

The goode, wise, worthi, fresshe, and free,

Which alwey for to don wel is his wone,

The noble Troilus, so loveth the,

320 That, but ye helpe, it wol his bane be.

Lo, here is al! What sholde I moore seye?

Doth what yow lest to make hym lyve or deye.

"But if ye late hym deyen, I wol sterve --

Have here my trouthe, nece, I nyl nat lyen --

Al sholde I with this knyf my throte kerve."

With that the teris breste out of his yen,

And seide, "If that ye don us bothe dyen

Thus gilteles, than have ye fisshed fayre!

What mende ye, though that we booth appaire?

330 "Allas, he which that is my lord so deere,

That trewe man, that noble gentil knyght,

That naught desireth but youre frendly cheere,

I se hym dyen, ther he goth upryght,

And hasteth hym with al his fulle myght

For to ben slayn, if his fortune assente.

Allas, that God yow swich a beaute sente!

"If it be so that ye so cruel be

That of his deth yow liste nought to recche,

That is so trewe and worthi, as ye se,

340 Namoore than of a japer or a wrecche --

If ye be swich, youre beaute may nat strecche

To make amendes of so cruel a dede;

Avysement is good byfore the nede.

"Wo worth the faire gemme vertulees!

Wo worth that herbe also that dooth no boote!

Wo worth that beaute that is routheles!

Wo worth that wight that tret ech undir foote!

And ye, that ben of beaute crop and roote,

If therwithal in yow ther be no routhe,

350 Than is it harm ye lyven, by my trouthe!

"And also think wel that this is no gaude;

For me were levere thow and I and he

Were hanged, than I sholde ben his baude,

As heigh as men myghte on us alle ysee!

I am thyn em; the shame were to me,

As wel as the, if that I sholde assente

Thorugh myn abet that he thyn honour shente.

"Now understond, for I yow nought requere

To bynde yow to hym thorugh no byheste,

360 But only that ye make hym bettre chiere

Than ye han doon er this, and moore feste,

So that his lif be saved atte leeste;

This al and som, and pleynly, oure entente.

God help me so, I nevere other mente!

"Lo, this requeste is naught but skylle, ywys,

Ne doute of resoun, pardee, is ther noon.

I sette the worste, that ye dreden this:

Men wolde wondren sen hym come or goon.

Ther-ayeins answere I thus anoon,

370 That every wight, but he be fool of kynde,

Wol deme it love of frendshipe in his mynde.

"What, who wol demen, though he se a man

To temple go, that he th' ymages eteth.

Thenk ek how wel and wisely that he kan

Governe hymself, that he no thyng foryeteth,

That where he cometh he pris and thank hym geteth.

And ek therto, he shal come here so selde,

What fors were it though al the town byhelde?

"Swych love of frendes regneth al this town;

380 And wre yow in that mantel evere moo,

And God so wys be my savacioun,

As I have seyd, youre beste is to do soo.

But alwey, goode nece, to stynte his woo,

So lat youre daunger sucred ben a lite,

That of his deth ye be naught for to wite."

Criseyde, which that herde hym in this wise,

Thoughte, "I shal felen what he meneth, ywis."

"Now em," quod she, "what wolde ye devise?

What is youre reed I sholde don of this?"

390 "That is wel seyd," quod he. "Certein, best is

That ye hym love ayeyn for his lovynge,

As love for love is skilful guerdonynge.

"Thenk ek how elde wasteth every houre

In ech of yow a partie of beautee;

And therfore er that age the devoure,

Go love; for old, ther wol no wight of the.

Lat this proverbe a loore unto yow be:

To late ywar, quod Beaute, whan it paste;

And Elde daunteth Daunger at the laste.

400 "The kynges fool is wont to crien loude,

Whan that hym thinketh a womman berth hire hye,

`So longe mote ye lyve, and alle proude,

Til crowes feet be growe under youre ye,

And sende yow than a myrour in to prye,

In which that ye may se youre face a morwe!'

I bidde wisshe yow namore sorwe."

With this he stynte, and caste adown the heed,

And she began to breste a-wepe anoon,

And seyde, "Allas, for wo! Why nere I deed?

410 For of this world the feyth is al agoon.

Allas, what sholden straunge to me doon,

Whan he that for my beste frend I wende

Ret me to love, and sholde it me defende?

"Allas! I wolde han trusted, douteles,

That if that I, thorugh my dysaventure,

Hadde loved outher hym or Achilles,

Ector, or any mannes creature,

Ye nolde han had no mercy ne mesure

On me, but alwey had me in repreve.

420 This false world -- allas! -- who may it leve?

"What, is this al the joye and al the feste?

Is this youre reed? Is this my blisful cas?

Is this the verray mede of youre byheeste?

Is al this paynted proces seyd -- allas! --

Right for this fyn? O lady myn, Pallas!

Thow in this dredful cas for me purveye,

For so astoned am I that I deye."

Wyth that she gan ful sorwfully to syke.

"A, may it be no bet?" quod Pandarus;

430 "By God, I shal namore come here this wyke,

And God toforn, that am mystrusted thus!

I se wel that ye sette lite of us,

Or of oure deth! Allas, I woful wrecche!

Might he yet lyve, of me is nought to recche.

"O cruel god, O dispitouse Marte,

O Furies thre of helle, on yow I crye!

So lat me nevere out of this hous departe,

If I mente harm or vilenye!

But sith I se my lord mot nedes dye,

440 And I with hym, here I me shryve, and seye

That wikkedly ye don us bothe deye.

"But sith it liketh yow that I be ded,

By Neptunus, that god is of the see,

Fro this forth shal I nevere eten bred

Til I myn owen herte blood may see;

For certeyn I wol deye as soone as he."

And up he sterte, and on his wey he raughte,

Tyl she agayn hym by the lappe kaughte.

Criseyde, which that wel neigh starf for feere,

450 So as she was the ferfulleste wight

That myghte be, and herde ek with hire ere

And saugh the sorwful ernest of the knyght,

And in his preier ek saugh noon unryght,

And for the harm that myghte ek fallen moore,

She gan to rewe and dredde hire wonder soore,

And thoughte thus: "Unhappes fallen thikke

Alday for love, and in swych manere cas

As men ben cruel in hemself and wikke;

And if this man sle here hymself -- allas! --

460 In my presence, it wol be no solas.

What men wolde of hit deme I kan nat seye;

It nedeth me ful sleighly for to pleie."

And with a sorowful sik she sayde thrie,

"A, Lord! What me is tid a sory chaunce!

For myn estat lith in a jupartie,

And ek myn emes lif is in balaunce;

But natheles, with Goddes governaunce,

I shal so doon, myn honour shal I kepe,

And ek his lif" -- and stynte for to wepe.

470 "Of harmes two, the lesse is for to chese;

Yet have I levere maken hym good chere

In honour, than myn emes lyf to lese.

Ye seyn, ye nothyng elles me requere?"

"No, wis," quod he, "myn owen nece dere."

"Now wel," quod she, "and I wol doon my peyne;

I shal myn herte ayeins my lust constreyne.

"But that I nyl nat holden hym in honde,

Ne love a man ne kan I naught ne may

Ayeins my wyl, but elles wol I fonde,

480 Myn honour sauf, plese hym fro day to day.

Therto nolde I nat ones han seyd nay,

But that I drede, as in my fantasye;

But cesse cause, ay cesseth maladie.

"And here I make a protestacioun

That in this proces if ye depper go,

That certeynly, for no salvacioun

Of yow, though that ye sterven bothe two,

Though al the world on o day be my fo,

Ne shal I nevere of hym han other routhe."

490 "I graunte wel," quod Pandare, "by my trowthe.

"But may I truste wel to yow," quod he,

"That of this thyng that ye han hight me here,

Ye wole it holden trewely unto me?"

"Ye, doutelees," quod she, "myn uncle deere."

"Ne that I shal han cause in this matere,"

Quod he, "to pleyne, or ofter yow to preche?"

"Why, no, parde; what nedeth moore speche?"

Tho fellen they in other tales glade,

Tyl at the laste, "O good em," quod she tho,

500 "For his love, that us bothe made,

Tel me how first ye wisten of his wo.

Woot noon of it but ye?" He seyde, "No."

"Kan he wel speke of love?" quod she; "I preye

Tel me, for I the bet me shal purveye."

Tho Pandarus a litel gan to smyle,

And seyde, "By my trouthe, I shal yow telle.

This other day, naught gon ful longe while,

In-with the paleis gardyn, by a welle,

Gan he and I wel half a day to dwelle,

510 Right for to speken of an ordinaunce,

How we the Grekes myghten disavaunce.

"Soon after that bigonne we to lepe,

And casten with oure dartes to and fro,

Tyl at the laste he seyde he wolde slepe,

And on the gres adoun he leyde hym tho;

And I afer gan romen to and fro,

Til that I herde, as that I welk alone,

How he bigan ful wofully to grone.

"Tho gan I stalke hym softely byhynde,

520 And sikirly, the soothe for to seyne,

As I kan clepe ayein now to my mynde,

Right thus to Love he gan hym for to pleyne:

He seyde, `Lord, have routhe upon my peyne,

Al have I ben rebell in myn entente;

Now, mea culpa, lord, I me repente!

"`O god, that at thi disposicioun

Ledest the fyn by juste purveiaunce

Of every wight, my lowe confessioun

Accepte in gree, and sende me swich penaunce

530 As liketh the, but from disesperaunce,

That may my goost departe awey fro the,

Thow be my sheld, for thi benignite.

"`For certes, lord, so soore hath she me wounded,

That stood in blak, with lokyng of hire eyen,

That to myn hertes botme it is ysounded,

Thorugh which I woot that I moot nedes deyen.

This is the werste, I dar me nat bywreyen;

And wel the hotter ben the gledes rede,

That men hem wrien with asshen pale and dede.'

540 "Wyth that he smot his hed adown anon,

And gan to motre, I noot what, trewely.

And I with that gan stille awey to goon,

And leet therof as nothing wist had I,

And com ayein anon, and stood hym by,

And seyde, `Awake, ye slepen al to longe!

It semeth nat that love doth yow longe,

"`That slepen so that no man may yow wake.

Who sey evere or this so dul a man?'

`Ye, frend,' quod he, `do ye youre hedes ake

550 For love, and lat me lyven as I kan.'

But though that he for wo was pale and wan,

Yet made he tho as fresshe a countenaunce

As though he sholde have led the newe daunce.

"This passed forth til now, this other day,

It fel that I com romyng al allone

Into his chaumbre, and fond how that he lay

Upon his bed; but man so soore grone

Ne herde I nevere, and what that was his mone

Ne wist I nought; for, as I was comynge,

560 Al sodeynly he lefte his complaynynge.

"Of which I took somwat suspecioun,

And ner I com, and fond he wepte soore;

And God so wys be my savacioun,

As nevere of thyng hadde I no routhe moore;

For neither with engyn, ne with no loore,

Unnethes myghte I fro the deth hym kepe,

That yet fele I myn herte for hym wepe.

"And God woot, nevere sith that I was born

Was I so besy no man for to preche,

570 Ne nevere was to wight so depe isworn,

Or he me told who myghte ben his leche.

But now to yow rehercen al his speche,

Or alle his woful wordes for to sowne,

Ne bid me naught, but ye wol se me swowne.

"But for to save his lif, and elles nought,

And to noon harm of yow, thus am I dryven;

And for the love of God, that us hath wrought,

Swich cheer hym dooth that he and I may lyven!

Now have I plat to yow myn herte shryven,

580 And sith ye woot that myn entent is cleene,

Take heede therof, for I non yvel meene.

"And right good thrift, I prey to God, have ye,

That han swich oon ykaught withouten net!

And be ye wis as ye be fair to see,

Wel in the ryng than is the ruby set.

Ther were nevere two so wel ymet,

Whan ye ben his al hool as he is youre;

Ther myghty God graunte us see that houre!"

"Nay, therof spak I nought, ha, ha!" quod she;

590 "As helpe me God, ye shenden every deel!"

"O, mercy, dere nece," anon quod he,

"What so I spak, I mente naught but wel,

By Mars, the god that helmed is of steel!

Now beth naught wroth, my blood, my nece dere."

"Now wel," quod she, "foryeven be it here!"

With this he took his leve, and hom he wente;

And, Lord, he was glad and wel bygon!

Criseyde aros, no lenger she ne stente,

But streght into hire closet wente anon,

600 And set hire doun as stylle as any ston,

And every word gan up and down to wynde

That he had seyd, as it com hire to mynde,

And wex somdel astoned in hire thought

Right for the newe cas; but whan that she

Was ful avysed, tho fond she right nought

Of peril why she ought afered be.

For man may love, of possibilite,

A womman so, his herte may tobreste,

And she naught love ayein, but if hire leste.

610 But as she sat allone and thoughte thus,

Ascry aros at scarmuch al withoute,

And men criden in the strete, "Se, Troilus

Hath right now put to flighte the Grekes route!"

With that gan al hire meyne for to shoute,

"A, go we se! Cast up the yates wyde!

For thorwgh this strete he moot to paleys ride;

"For other wey is to the yate noon

Of Dardanus, there opyn is the cheyne."

With that com he and al his folk anoon

620 An esy pas rydyng, in routes tweyne,

Right as his happy day was, sooth to seyne,

For which, men seyn, may nought destourbed be

That shal bityden of necessitee.

This Troilus sat on his baye steede

Al armed, save his hed, ful richely;

And wownded was his hors, and gan to blede,

On which he rood a pas ful softely.

But swich a knyghtly sighte trewely

As was on hym, was nought, withouten faille,

630 To loke on Mars, that god is of bataille.

So lik a man of armes and a knyght

He was to seen, fulfilled of heigh prowesse,

For bothe he hadde a body and a myght

To don that thing, as wel as hardynesse;

And ek to seen hym in his gere hym dresse,

So fressh, so yong, so weldy semed he,

It was an heven upon hym for to see.

His helm tohewen was in twenty places,

That by a tyssew heng his bak byhynde;

640 His sheeld todasshed was with swerdes and maces,

In which men myghte many an arwe fynde

That thirled hadde horn and nerf and rynde;

And ay the peple cryde, "Here cometh oure joye,

And, next his brother, holder up of Troye!"

For which he wex a litel reed for shame

When he the peple upon hym herde cryen,

That to byholde it was a noble game

How sobrelich he caste down his yen.

Criseyda gan al his chere aspien,

650 And leet it so softe in hire herte synke,

That to hireself she seyde, "Who yaf me drynke?"

For of hire owen thought she wex al reed,

Remembryng hire right thus, "Lo, this is he

Which that myn uncle swerith he moot be deed,

But I on hym have mercy and pitee."

And with that thought, for pure ashamed, she

Gan in hire hed to pulle, and that as faste,

Whil he and alle the peple forby paste,

And gan to caste and rollen up and down

660 Withinne hire thought his excellent prowesse,

And his estat, and also his renown,

His wit, his shap, and ek his gentilesse;

But moost hire favour was, for his distresse

Was al for hire, and thoughte it was a routhe

To sleen swich oon, if that he mente trouthe.

Now myghte som envious jangle thus:

"This was a sodeyn love; how myght it be

That she so lightly loved Troilus

Right for the firste syghte, ye, parde?"

670 Now whoso seith so, mote he nevere ythe!

For every thing a gynnyng hath it nede

Er al be wrought, withowten any drede.

For I sey nought that she so sodeynly

Yaf hym hire love, but that she gan enclyne

To like hym first, and I have told yow whi;

And after that, his manhod and his pyne

Made love withinne hire for to myne,

For which by proces and by good servyse

He gat hire love, and in no sodeyn wyse.

680 And also blisful Venus, wel arrayed,

Sat in hire seventhe hous of hevene tho,

Disposed wel, and with aspectes payed,

To helpe sely Troilus of his woo.

And soth to seyne, she nas not al a foo

To Troilus in his nativitee;

God woot that wel the sonner spedde he.

Now lat us stynte of Troilus a throwe,

That rideth forth, and lat us torne faste

Unto Criseyde, that heng hire hed ful lowe

690 Ther as she sat allone, and gan to caste

Where on she wolde apoynte hire atte laste,

If it so were hire em ne wolde cesse

For Troilus upon hire for to presse.

And, Lord! So she gan in hire thought argue

In this matere of which I have yow told,

And what to doone best were, and what eschue,

That plited she ful ofte in many fold.

Now was hire herte warm, now was it cold;

And what she thoughte somwhat shal I write,

700 As to myn auctour listeth for t' endite.

She thoughte wel that Troilus persone

She knew by syghte, and ek his gentilesse,

And thus she seyde, "Al were it nat to doone

To graunte hym love, yet for his worthynesse

It were honour with pley and with gladnesse

In honestee with swich a lord to deele,

For myn estat, and also for his heele.

"Ek wel woot I my kynges sone is he,

And sith he hath to se me swich delit,

710 If I wolde outreliche his sighte flee,

Peraunter he myghte have me in dispit,

Thorugh whicch I myghte stonde in worse plit.

Now were I wis, me hate to purchace,

Withouten need, ther I may stonde in grace?

"In every thyng, I woot, ther lith mesure;

For though a man forbede dronkenesse,

He naught forbet that every creature

Be drynkeles for alwey, as I gesse.

Ek sith I woot for me is his destresse,

720 I ne aughte nat for that thing hym despise,

Sith it is so he meneth in good wyse.

"And ek I knowe of longe tyme agon

His thewes goode, and that he is nat nyce;

N' avantour, seith men, certein, he is noon;

To wis is he to doon so gret a vice;

Ne als I nyl hym nevere so cherice

That he may make avaunt, by juste cause,

He shal me nevere bynde in swich a clause.

"Now sette a caas: the hardest is, ywys,

730 Men myghten demen that he loveth me.

What dishonour were it unto me, this?

May ich hym lette of that? Why, nay, parde!

I knowe also, and alday heere and se,

Men loven wommen al biside hire leve,

And whan hem leste namore, lat hem byleve!

"I thenke ek how he able is for to have

Of al this noble town the thriftieste

To ben his love, so she hire honour save.

For out and out he is the worthieste,

740 Save only Ector, which that is the beste;

And yet his lif al lith now in my cure.

But swich is love, and ek myn aventure.

"Ne me to love, a wonder is it nought;

For wel woot I myself, so God me spede --

Al wolde I that noon wiste of this thought --

I am oon the faireste, out of drede,

And goodlieste, who that taketh hede,

And so men seyn, in al the town of Troie.

What wonder is though he of me have joye?

750 "I am myn owene womman, wel at ese --

I thank it God -- as after myn estat,

Right yong, and stonde unteyd in lusty leese,

Withouten jalousie or swich debat:

Shal noon housbonde seyn to me `Chek mat!'

For either they ben ful of jalousie,

Or maisterfull, or loven novelrie.

"What shal I doon? To what fyn lyve I thus?

Shal I nat love, in cas if that me leste?

What, pardieux! I am naught religious.

760 And though that I myn herte sette at reste

Upon this knyght, that is the worthieste,

And kepe alwey myn honour and my name,

By alle right, it may do me no shame."

But right as when the sonne shyneth brighte

In March, that chaungeth ofte tyme his face,

And that a cloude is put with wynd to flighte,

Which oversprat the sonne as for a space,

A cloudy thought gan thorugh hire soule pace,

That overspradde hire brighte thoughtes alle,

770 So that for feere almost she gan to falle.

That thought was this: "Allas! Syn I am free,

Sholde I now love, and put in jupartie

My sikernesse, and thrallen libertee?

Allas, how dorst I thenken that folie?

May I naught wel in other folk aspie

Hire dredfull joye, hire constreinte, and hire peyne?

Ther loveth noon, that she nath why to pleyne.

"For love is yet the mooste stormy lyf,

Right of hymself, that evere was bigonne;

780 For evere som mystrust or nice strif

Ther is in love, som cloude is over that sonne.

Therto we wrecched wommen nothing konne,

Whan us is wo, but wepe and sitte and thinke;

Oure wrecche is this, oure owen wo to drynke.

"Also thise wikked tonges ben so prest

To speke us harm; ek men ben so untrewe,

That right anon as cessed is hire lest,

So cesseth love, and forth to love a newe.

But harm ydoon is doon, whoso it rewe:

790 For though thise men for love hem first torende,

Ful sharp bygynnyng breketh ofte at ende.

"How ofte tyme hath it yknowen be

The tresoun that to wommen hath ben do!

To what fyn is swich love I kan nat see,

Or wher bycometh it, whan that it is ago.

Ther is no wight that woot, I trowe so,

Where it bycometh. Lo, no wight on it sporneth.

That erst was nothing, into nought it torneth.

"How bisy, if I love, ek most I be

800 To plesen hem that jangle of love, and dremen,

And coye hem, that they seye noon harm of me!

For though ther be no cause, yet hem semen

Al be for harm that folk hire frendes quemen;

And who may stoppen every wikked tonge,

Or sown of belles whil that thei ben ronge?"

And after that, hire thought gan for to clere,

And seide, "He which that nothing undertaketh,

Nothyng n' acheveth, be hym looth or deere."

And with an other thought hire herte quaketh.

810 Than slepeth hope, and after drede awaketh.

Now hoot, now cold; but thus, bitwixen tweye,

She rist hire up, and went hire for to pleye.

Adown the steyre anonright tho she wente

Into the gardyn with hire neces thre,

And up and down ther made many a wente --

Flexippe, she, Tharbe, and Antigone --

To pleyen that it joye was to see;

And other of hire wommen, a gret route,

Hire folowede in the gardyn al aboute.

820 This yerd was large, and rayled alle th' aleyes,

And shadewed wel with blosmy bowes grene,

And benched newe, and sonded alle the weyes,

In which she walketh arm in arm bitwene,

Til at the laste Antigone the shene

Gan on a Troian song to singen cleere,

That it an heven was hire vois to here.

She seyde, "O Love, to whom I have and shal

Ben humble subgit, trewe in myn entente,

As I best kan, to yow, lord, yeve ich al

830 For everemo myn hertes lust to rente;

For nevere yet thi grace no wight sente

So blisful cause as me, my lif to lede

In alle joie and seurte out of drede.

"Ye, blisful god, han me so wel byset

In love, iwys, that al that bereth lif

Ymagynen ne kouth. how to be bet;

For, lord, withouten jalousie or strif,

I love oon which is moost ententif

To serven wel, unweri or unfeyned,

840 That evere was, and leest with harm desteyned.

"As he that is the welle of worthynesse,

Of trouthe grownd, mirour of goodlihed,

Of wit Apollo, stoon of sikernesse,

Of vertu roote, of lust fynder and hed,

Thorugh which is alle sorwe fro me ded --

Iwis, I love hym best, so doth he me;

Now good thrift have he, wherso that he be!

"Whom shulde I thanken but yow, god of Love,

Of al this blisse, in which to bathe I gynne?

850 And thanked be ye, lord, for that I love!

This is the righte lif that I am inne,

To flemen alle manere vice and synne:

This dooth me so to vertu for t' entende,

That day by day I in my wille amende.

"And whoso seith that for to love is vice,

Or thraldom, though he feele in it destresse,

He outher is envyous, or right nyce,

Or is unmyghty, for his shrewednesse,

To loven; for swich manere folk, I gesse,

860 Defamen Love, as nothing of hym knowe.

Thei speken, but thei benten nevere his bowe!

"What is the sonne wers, of kynde right,

Though that a man, for fieblesse of his yen,

May nought endure on it to see for bright?

Or love the wers, though wrecches on it crien?

No wele is worth, that may no sorwe dryen.

And forthi, who that hath an hed of verre,

Fro cast of stones war hym in the werre!

"But I with al myn herte and al my myght,

870 As I have seyd, wol love unto my laste

My deere herte and al myn owen knyght,

In which myn herte growen is so faste,

And his in me, that it shal evere laste.

Al dredde I first to love hym to bigynne,

Now woot I wel, ther is no peril inne."

And of hir song right with that word she stente,

And therwithal, "Now nece," quod Cryseyde,

"Who made this song now with so good entente?"

Antygone answerde anoon and seyde,

880 "Madame, ywys, the goodlieste mayde

Of gret estat in al the town of Troye,

And let hire lif in moste honour and joye."

"Forsothe, so it semeth by hire song,"

Quod tho Criseyde, and gan therwith to sike,

And seyde, "Lord, is ther swych blisse among

Thise loveres, as they konne faire endite?"

"Ye, wis," quod fresshe Antigone the white,

"For alle the folk that han or ben on lyve

Ne konne wel the blisse of love discryve.

890 "But wene ye that every wrecche woot

The parfit blisse of love? Why, nay, iwys!

They wenen all be love, if oon be hoot.

Do wey, do wey, they woot no thyng of this!

Men moste axe at seyntes if it is

Aught fair in hevene (Why? For they kan telle),

And axen fendes is it foul in helle."

Criseyde unto that purpos naught answerde,

But seyde, "Ywys, it wol be nyght as faste."

But every word which that she of hire herde,

900 She gan to prenten in hire herte faste,

And ay gan love hire lasse for t' agaste

Than it dide erst, and synken in hire herte,

That she wex somwhat able to converte.

The dayes honour, and the hevenes ye,

The nyghtes foo -- al this clepe I the sonne --

Gan westren faste, and downward for to wrye,

As he that hadde his dayes cours yronne,

And white thynges wexen dymme and donne

For lak of lyght, and sterres for t' apere,

910 That she and alle hire folk in went yfeere.

So whan it liked hire to go to reste,

And voided weren thei that voiden oughte,

She seyde that to slepen wel hire leste.

Hire wommen soone til hire bed hire broughte.

Whan al was hust, than lay she stille and thoughte

Of al this thing; the manere and the wise

Reherce it nedeth nought, for ye ben wise.

A nyghtyngale, upon a cedre grene,

Under the chambre wal ther as she ley,

920 Ful loude song ayein the moone shene,

Peraunter in his briddes wise a lay

Of love, that made hire herte fressh and gay.

That herkned she so longe in good entente,

Til at the laste the dede slep hire hente.

And as she slep, anonright tho hire mette

How that an egle, fethered whit as bon,

Under hire brest his longe clawes sette,

And out hire herte he rente, and that anon,

And dide his herte into hire brest to gon --

930 Of which she nought agroos, ne nothyng smerte --

And forth he fleigh, with herte left for herte.

Now lat hire slepe, and we oure tales holde

Of Troilus, that is to paleis riden

Fro the scarmuch of the which I tolde,

And in his chaumbre sit and hath abiden

Til two or thre of his messages yeden

For Pandarus, and soughten hym ful faste,

Til they him founde and broughte him at the laste.

This Pandarus com lepyng in atones,

940 And seyde thus: "Who hath ben wel ibete

To-day with swerdes and with slynge-stones,

But Troilus, that hath caught hym an hete?"

And gan to jape, and seyde, "Lord, so ye swete!

But ris and lat us soupe and go to reste."

And he answerde hym, "Do we as the leste."

With al the haste goodly that they myghte

They spedde hem fro the soper unto bedde;

And every wight out at the dore hym dyghte,

And where hym liste upon his wey him spedde.

950 But Troilus, that thoughte his herte bledde

For wo, til that he herde som tydynge,

He seyde, "Frend, shal I now wepe or synge?"

Quod Pandarus, "Ly stylle and lat me slepe,

And don thyn hood; thy nedes spedde be!

And ches if thow wolt synge or daunce or lepe!

At shorte wordes, thow shal trowen me:

Sire, my nece wol do wel by the,

And love the best, by God and by my trouthe,

But lak of pursuyt make it in thi slouthe.

960 "For thus ferforth I have thi werk bigonne

Fro day to day, til this day by the morwe

Hire love of frendshipe have I to the wonne,

And therto hath she leyd hire feyth to borwe.

Algate a foot is hameled of thi sorwe!"

What sholde I lenger sermoun of it holde?

As ye han herd byfore, al he hym tolde.

But right as floures, thorugh the cold of nyght

Iclosed, stoupen on hire stalke lowe,

Redressen hem ayein the sonne bright,

970 And spreden on hire kynde cours by rowe,

Right so gan tho his eighen up to throwe

This Troilus, and seyde, "O Venus deere,

Thi myght, thi grace, yheried be it here!"

And to Pandare he held up bothe his hondes,

And seyde, "Lord, al thyn be that I have!

For I am hool, al brosten ben my bondes.

A thousand Troyes whoso that me yave,

Ech after other, God so wys me save,

Ne myghte me so gladen; lo, myn herte,

980 It spredeth so for joie it wol tosterte!

"But, Lord, how shal I doon? How shal I lyven?

Whan shal I next my deere herte see?

How shal this longe tyme awey be dryven

Til that thow be ayein at hire fro me?

Thow maist answer, `Abid, abid,' but he

That hangeth by the nekke, soth to seyne

In gret disese abideth for the peyne."

"Al esily, now, for the love of Marte,"

Quod Pandarus, "for every thing hath tyme.

990 So longe abid til that the nyght departe,

For also siker as thow list here by me,

And God toforn, I wol be ther at pryme;

And forthi, werk somwhat as I shal seye,

Or on som other wight this charge leye.

"For, pardee, God woot I have evere yit

Ben redy the to serve, and to this nyght

Have I naught feyned, but emforth my wit

Don al thi lust, and shal with al my myght.

Do now as I shal seyn, and far aright;

1000 And if thow nylt, wite al thiself thi care!

On me is nought along thyn yvel fare.

"I woot wel that thow wiser art than I

A thousand fold, but if I were as thow,

God help me so, as I wolde outrely

Of myn owen hond write hire right now

A lettre, in which I wolde hire tellen how

I ferde amys, and hire biseche of routhe.

Now help thiself, and leve it nought for slouthe!

"And I myself wol therwith to hire gon;

1010 And whan thow woost that I am with hire there,

Worth thow upon a courser right anon --

Ye, hardily, right in thi beste gere --

And ryd forth by the place, as nought ne were,

And thow shalt fynde us, if I may, sittynge

At som wyndow, into the strete lokynge.

"And if the list, than maystow us salue;

And upon me make thow thi countenaunce;

But by thi lif, be war and faste eschue

To tarien ought -- God shilde us fro meschaunce!

1020 Rid forth thi wey, and hold thi governaunce;

And we shal speek of the somwhat, I trowe,

Whan thow art gon, to don thyn eris glowe!

"Towchyng thi lettre, thou art wys ynough.

I woot thow nylt it dygneliche endite,

As make it with thise argumentes tough;

Ne scryvenyssh or craftyly thow it write;

Biblotte it with thi teris ek a lite;

And if thow write a goodly word al softe,

Though it be good, reherce it nought to ofte.

1030 "For though the beste harpour upon lyve

Wolde on the beste sowned joly harpe

That evere was, with alle his fyngres fyve

Touche ay o stryng, or ay o werbul harpe,

Were his nayles poynted nevere so sharpe,

It sholde maken every wight to dulle,

To here his glee, and of his strokes fulle.

"Ne jompre ek no discordant thyng yfeere,

As thus, to usen termes of phisik

In loves termes; hold of thi matere

1040 The forme alwey, and do that it be lik;

For if a peyntour wolde peynte a pyk

With asses feet, and hedde it as an ape,

It cordeth naught, so were it but a jape."

This counseil liked wel to Troilus,

But, as a dredful lovere, he seyde this:

"Allas, my deere brother Pandarus,

I am ashamed for to write, ywys,

Lest of myn innocence I seyde amys,

Or that she nolde it for despit receyve;

1050 Than were I ded: ther myght it nothyng weyve."

To that Pandare answered, "If the lest,

Do that I seye, and lat me therwith gon;

For by that Lord that formede est and west,

I hope of it to brynge answere anon

Of hire hond; and if that thow nylt noon,

Lat be, and sory mote he ben his lyve

Ayeins thi lust that helpeth the to thryve."

Quod Troilus, "Depardieux, ich assente!

Sith that the list, I wil arise and write;

1060 And blisful God prey ich with good entente,

The viage, and the lettre I shal endite,

So spede it; and thow, Minerva, the white,

Yif thow me wit my lettre to devyse."

And sette hym down, and wrot right in this wyse:

First he gan hire his righte lady calle,

His hertes lif, his lust, his sorwes leche,

His blisse, and ek thise other termes alle

That in swich cas thise loveres alle seche;

And in ful humble wise, as in his speche,

1070 He gan hym recomaunde unto hire grace;

To telle al how, it axeth muchel space.

And after this ful lowely he hire preyde

To be nought wroth, thogh he, of his folie,

So hardy was to hire to write, and seyde

That love it made, or elles most he die,

And pitousli gan mercy for to crye;

And after that he seyde -- and leigh ful loude --

Hymself was litel worth, and lasse he koude;

And that she sholde han his konnyng excused,

1080 That litel was, and ek he dredde hire soo;

And his unworthynesse he ay acused;

And after that than gan he telle his woo --

But that was endeles, withouten hoo --

And seyde he wolde in trouthe alwey hym holde;

And radde it over, and gan the lettre folde.

And with his salte teris gan he bathe

The ruby in his signet, and it sette

Upon the wex deliverliche and rathe.

Therwith a thousand tymes er he lette

1090 He kiste tho the lettre that he shette,

And seyde, "Lettre, a blisful destine

The shapyn is. my lady shal the see!"

This Pandare tok the lettre, and that bytyme

A-morwe, and to his neces paleis sterte,

And faste he swor that it was passed prime,

And gan to jape, and seyde, "Ywys, myn herte,

So fressh it is, although it sore smerte,

I may naught slepe nevere a Mayes morwe;

I have a joly wo, a lusty sorwe."

1100 Criseyde, whan that she hire uncle herde,

With dredful herte, and desirous to here

The cause of his comynge, thus answerde:

"Now, by youre fey, myn uncle," quod she, "dere,

What manere wyndes gydeth yow now here?

Tel us youre joly wo and youre penaunce.

How ferforth be ye put in loves daunce?"

"By God," quod he, "I hoppe alwey byhynde!"

And she to laughe, it thoughte hire herte brest.

Quod Pandarus, "Loke alwey that ye fynde

1110 Game in myn hood; but herkneth, if yow lest!

Ther is right now come into town a gest,

A Greek espie, and telleth newe thinges,

For which I come to telle yow tydynges.

"Into the gardyn go we, and ye shal here,

Al pryvely, of this a long sermoun."

With that they wenten arm in arm yfeere

Into the gardyn from the chaumbre down;

And whan that he so fer was that the sown

Of that he spak no man heren myghte,

1120 He seyde hire thus, and out the lettre plighte:

"Lo, he that is al holy youres free

Hym recomaundeth lowely to youre grace,

And sente yow this lettre here by me.

Avyseth yow on it, whan ye han space,

And of som goodly answere yow purchace,

Or, helpe me God, so pleynly for to seyne,

He may nat longe lyven for his peyne."

Ful dredfully tho gan she stonden stylle,

And took it naught, but al hire humble chere

1130 Gan for to chaunge, and seyde, "Scrit ne bille,

For love of God, that toucheth swich matere,

Ne bryng me noon; and also, uncle deere,

To myn estat have more reward, I preye,

Than to his lust! What sholde I more seye?

"And loketh now if this be resonable,

And letteth nought, for favour ne for slouthe,

To seyn a sooth; now were it covenable

To myn estat, by God and by youre trouthe,

To taken it, or to han of hym routhe,

1140 In harmyng of myself, or in repreve?

Ber it ayein, for hym that ye on leve!"

This Pandarus gan on hire for to stare,

And seyde, "Now is this the grettest wondre

That evere I seigh! Lat be this nyce fare!

To dethe mot I smyten be with thondre,

If for the citee which that stondeth yondre,

Wolde I a lettre unto yow brynge or take

To harm of yow! What list yow thus it make?

"But thus ye faren, wel neigh alle and some,

1150 That he that most desireth yow to serve,

Of hym ye recche leest wher he bycome,

And whethir that he lyve or elles sterve.

But for al that that ever I may deserve,

Refuse it naught," quod he, and hente hire faste,

And in hire bosom the lettre down he thraste,

And seyde hire, "Now cast it awey anon,

That folk may seen and gauren on us tweye."

Quod she, "I kan abyde til they be gon";

And gan to smyle, and seyde hym, "Em, I preye,

1160 Swich answere as yow list, youreself purveye,

For trewely I nyl no lettre write."

"No? than wol I," quod he, "so ye endite."

Therwith she lough, and seyde, "Go we dyne."

And he gan at hymself to jape faste,

And seyde, "Nece, I have so gret a pyne

For love, that everich other day I faste --"

And gan his beste japes forth to caste,

And made hire so to laughe at his folye,

That she for laughter wende for to dye.

1170 And whan that she was comen into halle,

"Now, em," quod she, "we wol go dyne anon."

And gan some of hire wommen to hire calle,

And streght into hire chambre gan she gon;

But of hire besynesses this was on --

Amonges othere thynges, out of drede --

Ful pryvely this lettre for to rede;

Avysed word by word in every lyne,

And fond no lak, she thoughte he koude good,

And up it putte, and wente hire in to dyne.

1180 But Pandarus, that in a studye stood,

Er he was war, she took hym by the hood,

And seyde, "Ye were caught er that ye wiste."

"I vouche sauf," quod he. "Do what you liste."

Tho wesshen they, and sette hem down, and ete;

And after noon ful sleighly Pandarus

Gan drawe hym to the wyndowe next the strete,

And seyde, "Nece, who hath araied thus

The yonder hous, that stant aforyeyn us?"

"Which hous?" quod she, and gan for to byholde,

1190 And knew it wel, and whos it was hym tolde;

And fillen forth in speche of thynges smale,

And seten in the windowe bothe tweye.

Whan Pandarus saugh tyme unto his tale,

And saugh wel that hire folk were alle aweye,

"Now, nece myn, tel on," quod he; "I seye,

How liketh yow the lettre that ye woot?

Kan he theron? For, by my trouthe, I noot."

Therwith al rosy hewed tho wex she,

And gan to homme, and seyde, "So I trowe."

1200 "Aquite hym wel, for Goddes love," quod he;

"Myself to medes wol the lettre sowe."

And held his hondes up, and sat on knowe;

"Now, goode nece, be it nevere so lite,

Yif me the labour it to sowe and plite."

"Ye, for I kan so writen," quod she tho;

"And ek I noot what I sholde to hym seye."

"Nay, nece," quod Pandare, "sey nat so.

Yet at the leeste thonketh hym, I preye,

Of his good wille, and doth hym nat to deye.

1210 Now, for the love of me, my nece deere,

Refuseth nat at this tid my prayere!"

"Depardieux," quod she, "God leve al be wel!

God help me so, this is the firste lettre

That evere I wroot, ye, al or any del."

And into a closet, for t' avise hire bettre,

She wente allone, and gan hire herte unfettre

Out of desdaynes prisoun but a lite,

And sette hire down, and gan a lettre write,

Of which to telle in short is myn entente

1220 Th' effect, as fer as I kan understonde.

She thanked hym of al that he wel mente

Towardes hire, but holden hym in honde

She nolde nought, ne make hireselven bonde

In love; but as his suster, hym to plese,

She wolde fayn to doon his herte an ese.

She shette it, and to Pandare in gan goon,

Ther as he sat and loked into the strete,

And down she sette hire by hym on a stoon

Of jaspre, upon a quysshyn gold-ybete,

1230 And seyde, "As wisly help me God the grete,

I nevere dide thing with more peyne

Than writen this, to which ye me constreyne,"

And took it hym. He thonked hire and seyde,

"God woot, of thyng ful often looth bygonne

Comth ende good; and nece myn, Criseyde,

That ye to hym of hard now ben ywonne

Oughte he be glad, by God and yonder sonne;

For-whi men seith, `Impressiounes lighte

Ful lightly ben ay redy to the flighte.'

1240 "But ye han played tirant neigh to longe,

And hard was it youre herte for to grave.

Now stynte, that ye no lenger on it honge,

Al wolde ye the forme of daunger save,

But hasteth you to doon hym joye have;

For trusteth wel, to long ydoon hardnesse

Causeth despit ful often for destresse."

And right as they declamed this matere,

Lo, Troilus, right at the stretes ende,

Com rydyng with his tenthe som yfere,

1250 Al softely, and thiderward gan bende

Ther as they sete, as was his way to wende

To paleis-ward; and Pandare hym aspide,

And seyde, "Nece, ysee who comth here ride!

"O fle naught in (he seeth us, I suppose),

Lest he may thynken that ye hym eschuwe."

"Nay, nay," quod she, and wex as red as rose.

With that he gan hire humbly to saluwe

With dredful chere, and oft his hewes muwe;

And up his look debonairly he caste,

1260 And bekked on Pandare, and forth he paste.

God woot if he sat on his hors aright,

Or goodly was biseyn, that ilke day!

God woot wher he was lik a manly knyght!

What sholde I drecche, or telle of his aray?

Criseyde, which that alle thise thynges say,

To telle in short, hire liked al in-fere,

His persoun, his aray, his look, his chere,

His goodly manere, and his gentilesse,

So wel that nevere, sith that she was born,

1270 Ne hadde she swych routh of his destresse;

And how so she hath hard ben here-byforn,

To God hope I, she hath now kaught a thorn,

She shal nat pulle it out this nexte wyke.

God sende mo swich thornes on to pike!

Pandare, which that stood hire faste by,

Felte iren hoot, and he bygan to smyte,

And seyde, "Nece, I pray yow hertely,

Tel me that I shal axen yow a lite:

A womman that were of his deth to wite,

1280 Withouten his gilt, but for hire lakked routhe,

Were it wel doon?" Quod she, "Nay, by my trouthe!"

"God help me so," quod he, "ye sey me soth.

Ye felen wel youreself that I nought lye.

Lo, yond he rit!" Quod she, "Ye, so he doth!"

"Wel," quod Pandare, "as I have told yow thrie,

Lat be youre nyce shame and youre folie,

And spek with hym in esyng of his herte;

Lat nycete nat do yow bothe smerte."

But theron was to heven and to doone.

1290 Considered al thing it may nat be;

And whi? For speche; and it were ek to soone

To graunten hym so gret a libertee.

For pleynly hire entente, as seyde she,

Was for to love hym unwist, if she myghte,

And guerdoun hym with nothing but with sighte.

But Pandarus thought, "It shal nought be so,

Yif that I may; this nyce opynyoun

Shal nought be holden fully yeres two."

What sholde I make of this a long sermoun?

1300 He moste assente on that conclusioun,

As for the tyme; and whan that it was eve,

And al was wel, he roos and tok his leve.

And on his wey ful faste homward he spedde,

And right for joye he felte his herte daunce;

And Troilus he fond allone abedde,

That lay, as do thise lovers, in a traunce

Bitwixen hope and derk disesperaunce.

But Pandarus, right at his in-comynge,

He song, as who seyth, "Somwhat I brynge,"

1310 And seyde, "Who is in his bed so soone

Iburied thus?" "It am I, frend," quod he.

"Who, Troilus? Nay, help me so the moone,"

Quod Pandarus, "thow shalt arise and see

A charme that was sent right now to the,

The which kan helen the of thyn accesse,

If thow do forthwith al thi bisynesse."

"Ye, thorugh the myght of God," quod Troilus,

And Pandarus gan hym the lettre take,

And seyde, "Parde, God hath holpen us!

1320 Have here a light, and loke on al this blake."

But ofte gan the herte glade and quake

Of Troilus, whil that he gan it rede,

So as the wordes yave hym hope or drede.

But finaly, he took al for the beste

That she hym wroot, for somwhat he byheld

On which hym thoughte he myghte his herte reste,

Al covered she tho wordes under sheld.

Thus to the more worthi part he held,

That what for hope and Pandarus byheste,

1330 His grete wo foryede he at the leste.

But as we may alday oureselven see,

Thorugh more wode or col, the more fir,

Right so encreese hope, of what it be,

Therwith ful ofte encresseth ek desir;

Or as an ook comth of a litil spir,

So thorugh this lettre which that she hym sente

Encrescen gan desir, of which he brente.

Wherfore I seye alwey, that day and nyght

This Troilus gan to desiren moore

1340 Thanne he did erst, thorugh hope, and did his myght

To preessen on, as by Pandarus loore,

And writen to hire of his sorwes soore.

Fro day to day he leet it nought refreyde,

That by Pandare he wroot somwhat or seyde;

And dide also his other observaunces

That til a lovere longeth in this cas;

And after that thise dees torned on chaunces,

So was he outher glad or seyde "Allas!"

And held after his gistes ay his pas;

1350 And after swiche answeres as he hadde,

So were his dayes sory outher gladde.

But to Pandare alwey was his recours,

And pitously gan ay tyl hym to pleyne,

And hym bisoughte of reed and som socours.

And Pandarus, that sey his woode peyne,

Wex wel neigh ded for routhe, sooth to seyne,

And bisily with al his herte caste

Som of his wo to slen, and that as faste;

And seyde, "Lord, and frend, and brother dere,

1360 God woot that thi disese doth me wo.

But wiltow stynten al this woful cheere,

And, by my trouthe, er it be dayes two,

And God toforn, yet shal I shape it so,

That thow shalt come into a certeyn place,

There as thow mayst thiself hire preye of grace.

"And certeynly -- I noot if thow it woost,

But tho that ben expert in love it seye --

It is oon of the thynges forthereth most,

A man to han a layser for to preye,

1370 And siker place his wo for to bywreye;

For in good herte it mot som routhe impresse,

To here and see the giltlees in distresse.

"Peraunter thynkestow: though it be so,

That Kynde wolde don hire to bygynne

To have a manere routhe upon my woo,

Seyth Daunger, `Nay, thow shalt me nevere wynne!'

So reulith hire hir hertes gost withinne,

That though she bende, yeet she stant on roote;

What in effect is this unto my boote?

1380 "Thenk here-ayeins: whan that the stordy ook,

On which men hakketh ofte, for the nones,

Receyved hath the happy fallyng strook,

The greete sweigh doth it come al at ones,

As don thise rokkes or thise milnestones;

For swifter cours comth thyng that is of wighte,

Whan it descendeth, than don thynges lighte.

"And reed that boweth down for every blast,

Ful lightly, cesse wynd, it wol aryse;

But so nyl nought an ook, whan it is cast;

1390 It nedeth me nought the longe to forbise.

Men shal rejoissen of a gret empryse

Acheved wel, and stant withouten doute,

Al han men ben the lenger theraboute.

"But, Troilus, yet telle me, if the lest,

A thing now which that I shal axen the:

Which is thi brother that thow lovest best,

As in thi verray hertes privetee?"

"Iwis, my brother Deiphebus," quod he.

"Now," quod Pandare, "er houres twyes twelve,

1400 He shal the ese, unwist of it hymselve.

"Now lat m' alone, and werken as I may,"

Quod he; and to Deiphebus wente he tho,

Which hadde his lord and grete frend ben ay;

Save Troilus, no man he loved so.

To telle in short, withouten wordes mo,

Quod Pandarus, "I pray yow that ye be

Frend to a cause which that toucheth me."

"Yis, parde," quod Deiphebus, "wel thow woost,

In al that evere I may, and God tofore,

1410 Al nere it but for man I love moost,

My brother Troilus; but sey wherfore

It is. for sith that day that I was bore,

I nas, ne nevere mo to ben I thynke,

Ayeins a thing that myghte the forthynke."

Pandare gan hym thanke, and to hym seyde,

"Lo, sire, I have a lady in this town,

That is my nece, and called is Criseyde,

Which some men wolden don oppressioun,

And wrongfully han hire possessioun;

1420 Wherfore I of youre lordship yow biseche

To ben oure frend, withouten more speche."

Deiphebus hym answerde, "O, is nat this,

That thow spekest of to me thus straungely,

Criseda, my frend?" He seyde, "Yis."

"Than nedeth," quod Deiphebus, "hardyly,

Namore to speke, for trusteth wel that I

Wol be hire champioun with spore and yerde;

I roughte nought though alle hire foos it herde.

"But tel me how -- thow woost of this matere --

1430 It myghte best avaylen." "Now lat se,"

Quod Pandarus; "if ye, my lord so dere,

Wolden as now do this honour to me,

To preyen hire to-morwe, lo, that she

Come unto yow, hire pleyntes to devise,

Hire adversaries wolde of it agrise.

"And yif I more dorste preye as now,

And chargen yow to han so gret travaille,

To han some of youre bretheren here with yow,

That myghten to hire cause bet availle,

1440 Than wot I wel she myghte nevere faille

For to ben holpen, what at youre instaunce,

What with hire other frendes governaunce."

Deiphebus, which that comen was of kynde

To alle honour and bounte to consente,

Answerd, "It shal be don; and I kan fynde

Yet grettere help to this in myn entente.

What wiltow seyn if I for Eleyne sente

To speke of this? I trowe it be the beste,

For she may leden Paris as hire leste.

1450 "Of Ector, which that is my lord, my brother,

It nedeth naught to preye hym frend to be;

For I have herd hym, o tyme and ek oother,

Speke of Cryseyde swich honour that he

May seyn no bet, swich hap to hym hath she.

It nedeth naught his helpes for to crave;

He shal be swich, right as we wol hym have.

"Spek thow thiself also to Troilus

On my byhalve, and prey hym with us dyne."

"Syre, al this shal be don," quod Pandarus,

1460 And took his leve, and nevere gan to fyne,

But to his neces hous, as streyght as lyne,

He com; and fond hire fro the mete arise,

And sette hym down, and spak right in this wise:

He seide, "O verray God, so have I ronne!

Lo, nece myn, se ye nought how I swete?

I not wheither ye the more thank me konne.

Be ye naught war how false Poliphete

Is now aboute eftsones for to plete,

And brynge on yow advocacies newe?"

1470 "I, no!" quod she, and chaunged al hire hewe.

"What is he more aboute, me to drecche

And don me wrong? What shal I doon, allas?

Yet of hymself nothing ne wolde I recche,

Nere it for Antenor and Eneas,

That ben his frendes in swich manere cas.

But, for the love of God, myn uncle deere,

No fors of that; lat hym han al yfeere,

"Withouten that I have ynough for us."

"Nay," quod Pandare, "it shal nothing be so.

1480 For I have ben right now at Deiphebus,

At Ector, and myn oother lordes moo,

And shortly maked ech of hem his foo,

That, by my thrift, he shal it nevere wynne,

For aught he kan, whan that so he bygynne."

And as thei casten what was best to doone,

Deiphebus, of his owen curteisie,

Com hire to preye, in his propre persone,

To holde hym on the morwe compaignie

At dyner, which she nolde nought denye,

1490 But goodly gan to his preier obeye.

He thonked hire, and went upon his weye.

Whan this was don, this Pandare up anon,

To telle in short, and forth gan for to wende

To Troilus, as stille as any ston;

And al this thyng he tolde hym, word and ende,

And how that he Deiphebus gan to blende,

And seyde hym, "Now is tyme, if that thow konne,

To bere the wel tomorwe, and al is wonne.

"Now spek, now prey, now pitously compleyne;

1500 Lat nought for nyce shame, or drede, or slouthe!

Somtyme a man mot telle his owen peyne.

Bileve it, and she shal han on the routhe:

Thow shalt be saved by thi feyth, in trouthe.

But wel woot I thow art now in drede,

And what it is, I leye, I kan arede.

"Thow thynkest now, `How sholde I don al this?

For by my cheres mosten folk aspie

That for hire love is that I fare amys;

Yet hadde I levere unwist for sorwe dye.'

1510 Now thynk nat so, for thow dost gret folie;

For I right now have founden o manere

Of sleyghte, for to coveren al thi cheere.

"Thow shalt gon over nyght, and that bylyve,

Unto Deiphebus hous as the to pleye,

Thi maladie awey the bet to dryve --

For-whi thow semest sik, soth for to seye.

Sone after that, down in thi bed the leye,

And sey thow mayst no lenger up endure,

And ly right there, and byd thyn aventure.

1520 "Sey that thi fevre is wont the for to take

The same tyme, and lasten til a-morwe;

And lat se now how wel thow kanst it make,

For, parde, sik is he that is in sorwe.

Go now, farwel! And Venus here to borwe,

I hope, and thow this purpos holde ferme,

Thi grace she shal fully ther conferme."

Quod Troilus, "Iwis, thow nedeles

Conseilest me that siklich I me feyne,

For I am sik in ernest, douteles,

1530 So that wel neigh I sterve for the peyne."

Quod Pandarus, "Thow shalt the bettre pleyne,

And hast the lasse need to countrefete,

For hym men demen hoot that men seen swete.

"Lo, hold the at thi triste cloos, and I

Shal wel the deer unto thi bowe dryve."

Therwith he took his leve al softely,

And Troilus to paleis wente blyve.

So glad ne was he nevere in al his lyve,

And to Pandarus reed gan al assente,

1540 And to Deiphebus hous at nyght he wente.

What nedeth yow to tellen al the cheere

That Deiphebus unto his brother made,

Or his accesse, or his sikliche manere,

How men gan hym with clothes for to lade

Whan he was leyd, and how men wolde hym glade?

But al for nought; he held forth ay the wyse

That ye han herd Pandare er this devyse.

But certayn is, er Troilus hym leyde,

Deiphebus had hym preied over-nyght

1550 To ben a frend and helpyng to Criseyde.

God woot that he it graunted anon-right,

To ben hire fulle frend with al his myght.

But swich a nede was to preye hym thenne,

As for to bidde a wood man for to renne!

The morwen com, and neighen gan the tyme

Of meeltid, that the faire queene Eleyne

Shoop hire to ben, an houre after the prime,

With Deiphebus, to whom she nolde feyne;

But as his suster, homly, soth to seyne,

1560 She com to dyner in hire pleyne entente.

But God and Pandare wist al what this mente.

Com ek Criseyde, al innocent of this,

Antigone, hire suster Tarbe also.

But fle we now prolixitee best is,

For love of God, and lat us faste go

Right to th' effect, withouten tales mo,

Whi al this folk assembled in this place;

And lat us of hire saluynges pace.

Gret honour did hem Deiphebus, certeyn,

1570 And fedde hem wel with al that myghte like;

But evere mo "Allas!" was his refreyn,

"My goode brother Troilus, the syke,

Lith yet" -- and therwithal he gan to sike;

And after that, he peyned hym to glade

Hem as he myghte, and cheere good he made.

Compleyned ek Eleyne of his siknesse

So feythfully that pite was to here,

And every wight gan waxen for accesse

A leche anon, and seyde, "In this manere

1580 Men curen folk." -- "This charme I wol yow leere."

But ther sat oon, al list hire nought to teche,

That thoughte, "Best koud I yet ben his leche."

After compleynte, hym gonnen they to preyse,

As folk don yet whan som wight hath bygonne

To preise a man, and up with pris hym reise

A thousand fold yet heigher than the sonne:

"He is, he kan, that fewe lordes konne."

And Pandarus, of that they wolde afferme,

He naught forgat hire preisynge to conferme.

1590 Herde al this thyng Criseyde wel inough,

And every word gan for to notifie;

For which with sobre cheere hire herte lough.

For who is that ne wolde hire glorifie,

To mowen swich a knyght don lyve or dye?

But al passe I, lest ye to longe dwelle;

For for o fyn is al that evere I telle.

The tyme com fro dyner for to ryse,

And as hem aughte, arisen everichon.

And gonne a while of this and that devise.

1600 But Pandarus brak al that speche anon,

And seide to Deiphebus, "Wol ye gon,

If it youre wille be, as I yow preyde,

To speke here of the nedes of Criseyde?"

Eleyne, which that by the hond hire held,

Took first the tale, and seyde, "Go we blyve";

And goodly on Criseyde she biheld,

And seyde, "Joves lat hym nevere thryve

That doth yow harm, and brynge hym soone of lyve,

And yeve me sorwe, but he shal it rewe,

1610 If that I may, and alle folk be trewe!"

"Tel thow thi neces cas," quod Deiphebus

To Pandarus, "for thow kanst best it telle."

"My lordes and my ladys, it stant thus:

What sholde I lenger," quod he, "do yow dwelle?"

He rong hem out a proces lik a belle

Upon hire foo that highte Poliphete,

So heynous that men myghten on it spete.

Answerde of this ech werse of hem than other,

And Poliphete they gonnen thus to warien:

1620 "Anhonged be swich oon, were he my brother!

And so he shal, for it ne may nought varien!"

What shold I lenger in this tale tarien?

Pleynliche, alle at ones, they hire highten

To ben hire help in al that evere they myghten.

Spak than Eleyne, and seyde, "Pandarus,

Woot ought my lord, my brother, this matere --

I meene Ector -- or woot it Troilus?"

He seyde, "Ye, but wole ye now me here?

Me thynketh this, sith that Troilus is here,

1630 It were good, if that ye wolde assente,

She tolde hireself hym al this er she wente.

"For he wol have the more hir grief at herte,

By cause, lo, that she a lady is.

And, by youre leve, I wol but in right sterte

And do yow wyte, and that anon, iwys,

If that he slepe, or wol ought here of this."

And in he lepte, and seyde hym in his ere,

"God have thi soule, ibrought have I thi beere!"

To smylen of this gan tho Troilus,

1640 And Pandarus, withouten rekenynge,

Out wente anon to Eleyne and Deiphebus,

And seyde hem, "So ther be no taryinge,

Ne moore prees, he wol wel that ye brynge

Criseda, my lady, that is here;

And as he may enduren, he wol here.

"But wel ye woot, the chaumbre is but lite,

And fewe folk may lightly make it warm;

Now loketh ye (for I wol have no wite

To brynge in prees that myghte don hym harm,

1650 Or hym disesen, for my bettre arm)

Wher it be bet she bide til eft-sonys;

Now loketh ye that knowen what to doon is.

"I sey for me, best is, as I kan knowe,

That no wight in ne wente but ye tweye,

But it were I, for I kan in a throwe

Reherce hire cas unlik that she kan seye;

And after this she may hym ones preye

To ben good lord, in short, and take hire leve.

This may nought muchel of his ese hym reve.

1660 "And ek, for she is straunge, he wol forbere

His ese, which that hym thar nought for yow;

Ek oother thing that toucheth nought to here

He wol yow telle -- I woot it wel right now --

That secret is, and for the townes prow."

And they, that nothyng knewe of his entente,

Withouten more, to Troilus in they wente.

Eleyne, in al hire goodly softe wyse,

Gan hym salue, and wommanly to pleye,

And seyde, "Iwys, ye moste alweies arise!

1670 Now faire brother, beth al hool, I preye!"

And gan hire arm right over his shulder leye,

And hym with al hire wit to reconforte;

As she best koude, she gan hym to disporte.

So after this quod she, "We yow biseke,

My deere brother Deiphebus and I,

For love of God -- and so doth Pandare eke --

To ben good lord and frend, right hertely,

Unto Criseyde, which that certeynly

Receyveth wrong, as woot weel here Pandare,

1680 That kan hire cas wel bet than I declare."

This Pandarus gan newe his tong affile,

And al hire cas reherce, and that anon.

Whan it was seyd, soone after in a while,

Quod Troilus, "As sone as I may gon,

I wol right fayn with al my myght ben oon --

Have God my trouthe -- hire cause to sustene."

"Good thrift have ye!" quod Eleyne the queene.

Quod Pandarus, "And it youre wille be

That she may take hire leve, er that she go?"

1690 "O, elles God forbede it," tho quod he,

"If that she vouche sauf for to do so."

And with that word quod Troilus, "Ye two,

Deiphebus and my suster lief and deere,

To yow have I to speke of o matere,

"To ben avysed by youre reed the bettre --"

And fond, as hap was, at his beddes hed

The copie of a tretys and a lettre

That Ector hadde hym sent to axen red

If swych a man was worthi to ben ded,

1700 Woot I nought who; but in a grisly wise

He preyede hem anon on it avyse.

Deiphebus gan this lettre for t' onfolde

In ernest greet; so did Eleyne the queene;

And romyng outward, faste it gonne byholde,

Downward a steire, into an herber greene.

This ilke thing they redden hem bitwene,

And largely, the mountance of an houre,

Thei gonne on it to reden and to poure.

Now lat hem rede, and torne we anon

1710 To Pandarus, that gan ful faste prye

That al was wel, and out he gan to gon

Into the grete chaumbre, and that in hye,

And seyde, "God save al this compaynye!

Com, nece myn; my lady queene Eleyne

Abideth yow, and ek my lordes tweyne.

"Rys, take with yow youre nece Antigone,

Or whom yow list; or no fors; hardyly

The lesse prees, the bet; com forth with me,

And loke that ye thonken humblely

1720 Hem alle thre, and whan ye may goodly

Youre tyme se, taketh of hem youre leeve,

Lest we to longe his restes hym byreeve."

Al innocent of Pandarus entente,

Quod tho Criseyde, "Go we, uncle deere";

And arm in arm inward with hym she wente,

Avysed wel hire wordes and hire cheere;

And Pandarus, in ernestful manere,

Seyde, "Alle folk, for Goddes love, I preye,

Stynteth right here, and softely yow pleye.

1730 "Avyseth yow what folk ben hire withinne,

And in what plit oon is, God hym amende!"

And inward thus, "Ful softely bygynne,

Nece, I conjure and heighly yow defende,

On his half which that soule us alle sende,

And in the vertu of corones tweyne,

Sle naught this man, that hath for yow this peyne!

"Fy on the devel! Thynk which oon he is,

And in what plit he lith. com of anon!

Thynk al swich taried tyde, but lost it nys.

1740 That wol ye bothe seyn, whan ye ben oon.

Secoundely, ther yet devyneth noon

Upon yow two; come of now, if ye konne!

While folk is blent, lo, al the tyme is wonne.

"In titeryng, and pursuyte, and delayes,

The folk devyne at waggyng of a stree;

And though ye wolde han after mirye dayes,

Than dar ye naught. And whi? For she, and she

Spak swych a word; thus loked he, and he!

Las, tyme ilost! I dar nought with yow dele.

1750 Com of, therfore, and bryngeth hym to hele!"

But now to yow, ye loveres that ben here,

Was Troilus nought in a kankedort,

That lay, and myghte whisprynge of hem here,

And thoughte, "O Lord, right now renneth my sort

Fully to deye, or han anon comfort!"

And was the firste tyme he shulde hire preye

Of love; O myghty God, what shal he seye?

BOOK 3

O blisful light of which the bemes clere

Adorneth al the thridde heven faire!

O sonnes lief, O Joves doughter deere,

Plesance of love, O goodly debonaire,

In gentil hertes ay redy to repaire!

O veray cause of heele and of gladnesse,

Iheryed be thy myght and thi goodnesse!

In hevene and helle, in erthe and salte see

Is felt thi myght, if that I wel descerne,

10 As man, brid, best, fissh, herbe, and grene tree

Thee fele in tymes with vapour eterne.

God loveth, and to love wol nought werne,

And in this world no lyves creature

Withouten love is worth, or may endure.

Ye Joves first to thilke effectes glade,

Thorugh which that thynges lyven alle and be,

Comeveden, and amorous him made

On mortal thyng, and as yow list, ay ye

Yeve hym in love ese or adversitee,

20 And in a thousand formes down hym sente

For love in erthe, and whom yow liste he hente.

Ye fierse Mars apaisen of his ire,

And as yow list, ye maken hertes digne;

Algates hem that ye wol sette a-fyre,

They dreden shame, and vices they resygne;

Ye do hem corteys be, fresshe and benigne;

And heighe or lowe, after a wight entendeth,

The joies that he hath, youre myght it sendeth.

Ye holden regne and hous in unitee;

30 Ye sothfast cause of frendship ben also;

Ye knowe al thilke covered qualitee

Of thynges, which that folk on wondren so,

Whan they kan nought construe how it may jo

She loveth hym, or whi he loveth here,

As whi this fissh, and naught that, comth to were.

Ye folk a lawe han set in universe,

And this knowe I by hem that lovers be,

That whoso stryveth with yow hath the werse.

Now, lady bryght, for thi benignite,

40 At reverence of hem that serven the,

Whos clerc I am, so techeth me devyse

Som joye of that is felt in thi servyse.

Ye in my naked herte sentement

Inhielde, and do me shewe of thy swetnesse.

Caliope, thi vois be now present,

For now is nede: sestow nought my destresse,

How I mot telle anonright the gladnesse

Of Troilus, to Venus heryinge?

To which gladnesse, who nede hath, God hym brynge!

50 Lay al this mene while Troilus,

Recordyng his lesson in this manere:

"Mafay," thoughte he, "thus wol I sey, and thus;

Thus wol I pleyne unto my lady dere;

That word is good, and this shal be my cheere;

This nyl I nought foryeten in no wise."

God leve hym werken as he kan devyse!

And, Lord, so that his herte gan to quappe,

Heryng hire come, and shorte for to sike!

And Pandarus, that ledde hire by the lappe,

60 Com ner, and gan in at the curtyn pike,

And seyde, "God do boot on alle syke!

Se who is here yow comen to visite:

Lo, here is she that is youre deth to wite."

Therwith it semed as he wepte almost.

"Ha, a," quod Troilus so reufully,

"Wher me be wo, O myghty God, thow woost!

Who is al ther? I se nought trewely."

"Sire," quod Criseyde, "it is Pandare and I."

"Ye, swete herte? Allas, I may nought rise,

70 To knele and do yow honour in som wyse."

And dressed hym upward, and she right tho

Gan bothe hire hondes softe upon hym leye.

"O, for the love of God, do ye nought so

To me," quod she, "I! What is this to seye?

Sire, comen am I to yow for causes tweye:

First, yow to thonke, and of youre lordshipe eke

Continuance I wolde yow biseke."

This Troilus, that herde his lady preye

Of lordshipe hym, wax neither quyk ne ded,

80 Ne myghte o word for shame to it seye,

Although men sholde smyten of his hed.

But Lord, so he wex sodeynliche red,

And sire, his lessoun, that he wende konne

To preyen hire, is thorugh his wit ironne.

Criseyde al this aspied wel ynough,

For she was wis, and loved hym nevere the lasse,

Al nere he malapert, or made it tough,

Or was to bold, to synge a fool a masse.

But whan his shame gan somwhat to passe,

90 His resons, as I may my rymes holde,

I yow wol telle, as techen bokes olde.

In chaunged vois, right for his verray drede,

Which vois ek quook, and therto his manere

Goodly abaist, and now his hewes rede,

Now pale, unto Criseyde, his lady dere,

With look down cast and humble iyolden chere,

Lo, the alderfirste word that hym asterte

Was, twyes, "Mercy, mercy, swete herte!"

And stynte a while, and whan he myghte out brynge,

100 The nexte word was, "God woot, for I have,

As ferforthly as I have had konnynge,

Ben youres al, God so my soule save,

And shal til that I, woful wight, be grave!

And though I dar, ne kan, unto yow pleyne,

Iwis, I suffre nought the lasse peyne.

"Thus muche as now, O wommanliche wif,

I may out brynge, and if this yow displese,

That shal I wreke upon myn owen lif

Right soone, I trowe, and do youre herte an ese,

110 If with my deth youre wreththe may apese.

But syn that ye han herd me somwhat seye,

Now recche I nevere how soone that I deye."

Therwith his manly sorwe to biholde

It myghte han mad an herte of stoon to rewe;

And Pandare wep as he to water wolde,

And poked evere his nece new and newe,

And seyde, "Wo bygon ben hertes trewe!

For love of God, make of this thing an ende,

Or sle us both at ones er ye wende."

120 "I, what?" quod she, "by God and by my trouthe,

I not nat what ye wilne that I seye."

"I, what?" quod he, "That ye han on hym routhe,

For Goddes love, and doth hym nought to deye!"

"Now than thus," quod she, "I wolde hym preye

To telle me the fyn of his entente.

Yet wist I nevere wel what that he mente."

"What that I mene, O swete herte deere?"

Quod Troilus, "O goodly, fresshe free,

That with the stremes of youre eyen cleere

130 Ye wolde somtyme frendly on me see,

And thanne agreen that I may ben he,

Withouten braunche of vice on any wise,

In trouthe alwey to don yow my servise,

"As to my lady right and chief resort,

With al my wit and al my diligence;

And I to han, right as yow list, comfort,

Under yowre yerde, egal to myn offence,

As deth, if that I breke youre defence;

And that ye deigne me so muchel honoure

140 Me to comanden aught in any houre;

"And I to ben youre -- verray, humble, trewe,

Secret, and in my paynes pacient,

And evere mo desiren fresshly newe

To serve, and ben ylike diligent,

And with good herte al holly youre talent

Receyven wel, how sore that me smerte;

Lo, this mene I, myn owen swete herte."

Quod Pandarus, "Lo, here an hard requeste,

And resonable, a lady for to werne!

150 Now, nece myn, by natal Joves feste,

Were I a god, ye sholden sterve as yerne,

That heren wel this man wol nothing yerne

But youre honour, and sen hym almost sterve,

And ben so loth to suffren hym yow serve."

With that she gan hire eyen on hym caste

Ful esily and ful debonairly,

Avysyng hire, and hied nought to faste

With nevere a word, but seyde hym softely,

"Myn honour sauf, I wol wel trewely,

160 And in swich forme as he gan now devyse,

Receyven hym fully to my servyse,

"Bysechyng hym, for Goddes love, that he

Wolde, in honour of trouthe and gentilesse,

As I wel mene, ek menen wel to me,

And myn honour with wit and bisynesse

Ay kepe; and if I may don hym gladnesse,

From hennesforth, iwys, I nyl nought feyne.

Now beth al hool; no lenger ye ne pleyne.

"But natheles, this warne I yow," quod she,

170 "A kynges sone although ye be, ywys,

Ye shal namore han sovereignete

Of me in love, than right in that cas is.

N' y nyl forbere, if that ye don amys,

To wratthe yow; and whil that ye me serve,

Chericen yow right after ye disserve.

"And shortly, deere herte and al my knyght,

Beth glad, and draweth yow to lustinesse,

And I shal trewely, with al my myght,

Youre bittre tornen al into swetenesse.

180 If I be she that may yow do gladnesse,

For every wo ye shal recovere a blisse" --

And hym in armes took, and gan hym kisse.

Fil Pandarus on knees, and up his eyen

To heven threw, and held his hondes highe:

"Immortal god," quod he, "that mayst nought deyen,

Cupide I mene, of this mayst glorifie;

And Venus, thow mayst maken melodie!

Withouten hond, me semeth that in the towne,

For this merveille ich here ech belle sowne.

190 "But ho! namore as now of this matere;

For-whi this folk wol comen up anon,

That han the lettre red; lo, I hem here.

But I conjure the, Criseyde, anon,

And to, thow Troilus, whan thow mayst goon,

That at myn hous ye ben at my warnynge,

For I ful well shal shape youre comynge;

"And eseth there youre hertes right ynough;

And lat se which of yow shal bere the belle

To speke of love aright!" -- therwith he lough --

200 "For ther have ye a leiser for to telle."

Quod Troilus, "How longe shal I dwelle,

Er this be don?" Quod he, "Whan thow mayst ryse,

This thyng shal be right as I yow devyse."

With that Eleyne and also Deiphebus

Tho comen upward, right at the steires ende;

And Lord, so thanne gan gronen Troilus,

His brother and his suster for to blende.

Quod Pandarus, "It tyme is that we wende.

Tak, nece myn, youre leve at alle thre,

210 And lat hem speke, and cometh forth with me."

She took hire leve at hem ful thriftily,

As she wel koude, and they hire reverence

Unto the fulle diden, hardyly,

And wonder wel speken, in hire absence,

Of hire in preysing of hire excellence --

Hire governaunce, hire wit, and hire manere

Comendeden, it joie was to here.

Now lat hire wende unto hire owen place,

And torne we to Troilus ayein,

220 That gan ful lightly of the lettre pace

That Deiphebus hadde in the gardyn seyn;

And of Eleyne and hym he wolde feyn

Delivered ben, and seyde that hym leste

To slepe, and after tales have reste.

Eleyne hym kiste, and took hire leve blyve,

Deiphebus ek, and hom wente every wight;

And Pandarus, as faste as he may dryve,

To Troilus tho com, as lyne right,

And on a paillet al that glade nyght

230 By Troilus he lay, with mery chere,

To tale; and wel was hem they were yfeere.

Whan every wight was voided but they two,

And alle the dores weren faste yshette,

To telle in short, withouten wordes mo,

This Pandarus, withouten any lette,

Up roos, and on his beddes syde hym sette,

And gan to speken in a sobre wyse

To Troilus, as I shal yow devyse:

"Myn alderlevest lord, and brother deere,

240 God woot, and thow, that it sat me so soore,

Whan I the saugh so langwisshyng to-yere

For love, of which thi wo wax alwey moore,

That I, with al my myght and al my loore,

Have evere sithen don my bisynesse

To brynge the to joye out of distresse,

"And have it brought to swich plit as thow woost,

So that thorugh me thow stondest now in weye

To faren wel; I sey it for no bost,

And wostow whi? For shame it is to seye:

250 For the have I bigonne a gamen pleye

Which that I nevere do shal eft for other,

Although he were a thousand fold my brother.

"That is to seye, for the am I bicomen,

Bitwixen game and ernest, swich a meene

As maken wommen unto men to comen;

Al sey I nought, thow wost wel what I meene.

For the have I my nece, of vices cleene,

So fully maad thi gentilesse triste,

That al shal ben right as thiselven liste.

260 "But God, that al woot, take I to witnesse,

That nevere I this for coveitise wroughte,

But oonly for t' abregge that distresse

For which wel neigh thow deidest, as me thoughte.

But, goode brother, do now as the oughte,

For Goddes love, and kep hire out of blame,

Syn thow art wys, and save alwey hire name.

"For wel thow woost, the name as yet of here

Among the peeple, as who seyth, halwed is.

For that man is unbore, I dar wel swere,

270 That evere wiste that she dide amys.

But wo is me, that I, that cause al this,

May thynken that she is my nece deere,

And I hire em, and traitour ek yfeere!

"And were it wist that I, thorugh myn engyn,

Hadde in my nece yput this fantasie,

To doon thi lust and holly to ben thyn,

Whi, al the world upon it wolde crie,

And seyn that I the werste trecherie

Dide in this cas, that evere was bigonne,

280 And she forlost, and thow right nought ywonne.

"Wherfore, er I wol ferther gon a pas,

The preie ich eft, althogh thow shuldest deye,

That privete go with us in this cas;

That is to seyn, that thow us nevere wreye;

And be nought wroth, though I the ofte preye

To holden secree swich an heigh matere,

For skilfull is, thow woost wel, my praiere.

"And thynk what wo ther hath bitid er this,

For makyng of avantes, as men rede;

290 And what meschaunce in this world yet ther is,

Fro day to day, right for that wikked dede;

For which thise wise clerkes that ben dede

Han evere yet proverbed to us yonge,

That `firste vertu is to kepe tonge.'

"And nere it that I wilne as now t' abregge

Diffusioun of speche, I koude almoost

A thousand olde stories the allegge

Of wommen lost through fals and foles bost.

Proverbes kanst thiself ynowe and woost

300 Ayeins that vice, for to ben a labbe,

Al seyde men soth as often as thei gabbe.

"O tonge, allas, so often here-byforn

Hath mad ful many a lady bright of hewe

Seyd `Weilaway, the day that I was born!'

And many a maydes sorwe for to newe;

And for the more part, al is untrewe

That men of yelpe, and it were brought to preve.

Of kynde non avauntour is to leve.

"Avauntour and a lyere, al is on;

310 As thus: I pose, a womman grante me

Hire love, and seith that other wol she non,

And I am sworn to holden it secree,

And after I go telle it two or thre --

Iwis, I am avauntour at the leeste,

And lyere, for I breke my biheste.

"Now loke thanne, if they be nought to blame,

Swich manere folk -- what shal I clepe hem, what? --

That hem avaunte of wommen, and by name,

That nevere yet bihyghte hem this ne that,

320 Ne knewe hem more than myn olde hat!

No wonder is, so God me sende hele,

Though wommen dreden with us men to dele.

"I sey nought this for no mistrust of yow,

Ne for no wis-man, but for foles nyce,

And for the harm that in the werld is now,

As wel for folie ofte as for malice;

For wel woot I, in wise folk that vice

No womman drat, if she be wel avised;

For wyse ben by foles harm chastised.

330 "But now to purpos; leve brother deere,

Have al this thyng that I have seyd in mynde,

And kep the clos, and be now of good cheere,

For at thi day thow shalt me trewe fynde.

I shal thi proces set in swych a kynde,

And God toforn, that it shal the suffise,

For it shal be right as thow wolt devyse.

"For wel I woot, thow menest wel, parde;

Therfore I dar this fully undertake.

Thow woost ek what thi lady graunted the,

340 And day is set the chartres up to make.

Have now good nyght, I may no lenger wake;

And bid for me, syn thow art now in blysse,

That God me sende deth or soone lisse."

Who myghte tellen half the joie or feste

Which that the soule of Troilus tho felte,

Heryng th' effect of Pandarus byheste?

His olde wo, that made his herte swelte,

Gan tho for joie wasten and tomelte,

And al the richesse of his sikes sore

350 At ones fledde; he felte of hem namore.

But right so as thise holtes and thise hayis,

That han in wynter dede ben and dreye,

Revesten hem in grene whan that May is,

Whan every lusty liketh best to pleye;

Right in that selve wise, soth to seye,

Wax sodeynliche his herte ful of joie,

That gladder was ther nevere man in Troie.

And gan his look on Pandarus up caste

Ful sobrely, and frendly for to se,

360 And seyde, "Frend, in Aperil the laste --

As wel thow woost, if it remembre the --

How neigh the deth for wo thow fownde me,

And how thow dedest al thi bisynesse

To knowe of me the cause of my destresse.

"Thow woost how longe ich it forbar to seye

To the, that art the man that I best triste;

And peril non was it to the bywreye,

That wist I wel; but telle me, if the liste,

Sith I so loth was that thiself it wiste,

370 How dorst I mo tellen of this matere,

That quake now, and no wight may us here?

"But natheles, by that God I the swere,

That, as hym list, may al this world governe --

And, if I lye, Achilles with his spere

Myn herte cleve, al were my lif eterne,

As I am mortal, if I late or yerne

Wolde it bewreye, or dorst, or sholde konne,

For al the good that God made under sonne --

"That rather deye I wolde, and determyne,

380 As thynketh me, now stokked in prisoun,

In wrecchidnesse, in filthe, and in vermyne,

Caytif to cruel kyng Agamenoun;

And this in all the temples of this town

Upon the goddes alle, I wol the swere

To-morwe day, if that it liketh here.

"And that thow hast so muche ido for me

That I ne may it nevere more disserve,

This know I wel, al myghte I now for the

A thousand tymes on a morwe sterve.

390 I kan namore, but that I wol the serve

Right as thi sclave, whider so thow wende,

For evere more, unto my lyves ende.

"But here, with al myn herte, I the biseche

That nevere in me thow deme swich folie

As I shal seyn: me thoughte by thi speche

That this which thow me dost for compaignie,

I sholde wene it were a bauderye.

I am nought wood, al if I lewed be!

It is nought so, that woot I wel, parde!

400 "But he that gooth for gold or for ricchesse

On swich message, calle hym what the list;

And this that thow doost, calle it gentilesse,

Compassioun, and felawship, and trist.

Departe it so, for wyde-wher is wist

How that ther is diversite requered

Bytwixen thynges like, as I have lered.

"And that thow knowe I thynke nought ne wene

That this servise a shame be or jape,

I have my faire suster Polixene,

410 Cassandre, Eleyne, or any of the frape --

Be she nevere so fair or wel yshape,

Tel me which thow wilt of everychone,

To han for thyn, and lat me thanne allone.

"But, sith thow hast don me this servyse

My lif to save and for non hope of mede,

So for the love of God, this grete emprise

Perfourme it out, for now is moste nede;

For heigh and lough, withowten any drede,

I wol alwey thyn hestes alle kepe.

420 Have now good nyght, and lat us bothe slepe."

Thus held hym ech of other wel apayed,

That al the world ne myghte it bet amende;

And on the morwe, whan they were arayed,

Ech to his owen nedes gan entende.

But Troilus, though as the fir he brende

For sharp desir of hope and of plesaunce,

He nought forgat his goode governaunce,

But in hymself with manhod gan restreyne

Ech racle dede and ech unbridled cheere,

430 That alle tho that lyven, soth to seyne,

Ne sholde han wist, by word or by manere,

What that he mente, as touchyng this matere.

From every wight as fer as is the cloude

He was, so wel dissimilen he koude.

And al the while which that I yow devyse,

This was his lif: with all his fulle myght,

By day, he was in Martes heigh servyse --

This is to seyn, in armes as a knyght;

And for the more part, the longe nyght

440 He lay and thoughte how that he myghte serve

His lady best, hire thonk for to deserve.

Nil I naught swere, although he lay ful softe,

That in his thought he nas somwhat disesed,

Ne that he torned on his pilwes ofte,

And wold of that hym missed han ben sesed.

But in swich cas men is nought alwey plesed,

For aught I woot, namore than was he;

That kan I deme of possibilitee.

But certeyn is, to purpos for to go,

450 That in this while, as writen is in geeste,

He say his lady somtyme, and also

She with hym spak, whan that she dorst or leste;

And by hire bothe avys, as was the beste,

Apoynteden full warly in this nede,

So as they durste, how they wolde procede.

But it was spoken in so short a wise,

In swich await alwey, and in swich feere,

Lest any wight devynen or devyse

Wolde of hem two, or to it laye an ere,

460 That al this world so leef to hem ne were

As that Cupide wolde hem grace sende

To maken of hire speche aright an ende.

But thilke litel that they spake or wroughte,

His wise goost took ay of al swych heede,

It semed hire he wiste what she thoughte

Withouten word, so that it was no nede

To bidde hym ought to doon, or ought forbeede;

For which she thought that love, al come it late,

Of alle joie hadde opned hire the yate.

470 And shortly of this proces for to pace,

So wel his werk and wordes he bisette,

That he so ful stood in his lady grace,

That twenty thousand tymes, er she lette,

She thonked God that evere she with hym mette.

So koude he hym governe in swich servyse,

That al the world ne myght it bet devyse.

For whi she fond hym so discret in al,

So secret, and of swich obeisaunce,

That wel she felte he was to hire a wal

480 Of stiel, and sheld from every displesaunce;

That to ben in his goode governaunce,

So wis he was, she was namore afered --

I mene, as fer as oughte ben requered.

And Pandarus, to quike alwey the fir,

Was evere ylike prest and diligent;

To ese his frend was set al his desir.

He shof ay on, he to and fro was sent;

He lettres bar whan Troilus was absent;

That nevere man, as in his frendes nede,

490 Ne bar hym bet than he, withouten drede.

But now, paraunter, som man wayten wolde

That every word, or soonde, or look, or cheere

Of Troilus that I rehercen sholde,

In al this while unto his lady deere --

I trowe it were a long thyng for to here --

Or of what wight that stant in swich disjoynte,

His wordes alle, or every look, to poynte.

For sothe, I have naught herd it don er this

In story non, ne no man here, I wene;

500 And though I wolde, I koude nought, ywys;

For ther was som epistel hem bitwene,

That wolde, as seyth myn autour, wel contene

Neigh half this book, of which hym liste nought write.

How sholde I thanne a lyne of it endite?

But to the grete effect: than sey I thus,

That stondyng in concord and in quiete,

Thise ilke two, Criseyde and Troilus,

As I have told, and in this tyme swete --

Save only often myghte they nought mete,

510 Ne leiser have hire speches to fulfelle --

That it bifel right as I shal yow telle:

That Pandarus, that evere dide his myght

Right for the fyn that I shal speke of here,

As for to bryngen to his hows som nyght

His faire nece and Troilus yfere,

Wheras at leiser al this heighe matere,

Touchyng here love, were at the fulle upbounde,

Hadde out of doute a tyme to it founde.

For he with gret deliberacioun

520 Hadde every thyng that herto myght availle

Forncast and put in execucioun,

And neither left for cost ne for travaille.

Come if hem list, hem sholde no thyng faille;

And for to ben in ought aspied there,

That, wiste he wel, an impossible were.

Dredeles, it cler was in the wynd

Of every pie and every lette-game;

Now al is wel, for al the world is blynd

In this matere, bothe fremde and tame.

530 This tymbur is al redy up to frame;

Us lakketh nought but that we witen wolde

A certeyn houre, in which she comen sholde.

And Troilus, that al this purveiaunce

Knew at the fulle, and waited on it ay,

Hadde hereupon ek mad gret ordinaunce,

And found his cause, and therto his aray,

If that he were missed, nyght or day,

Ther-while he was aboute this servyse,

That he was gon to don his sacrifise,

540 And moste at swich a temple allone wake,

Answered of Apollo for to be;

And first to sen the holy laurer quake,

Er that Apollo spak out of the tree,

To telle hym next whan Grekes sholde flee --

And forthy lette hym no man, God forbede,

But prey Apollo helpen in this nede.

Now is ther litel more for to doone,

But Pandare up and, shortly for to seyne,

Right sone upon the chaungynge of the moone,

550 Whan lightles is the world a nyght or tweyne,

And that the wolken shop hym for to reyne,

He streght o morwe unto his nece wente --

Ye han wel herd the fyn of his entente.

Whan he was com, he gan anon to pleye

As he was wont, and of hymself to jape;

And finaly he swor and gan hire seye,

By this and that, she sholde hym nought escape,

Ne lenger don hym after hire to cape;

But certeynly she moste, by hire leve,

560 Come soupen in his hous with hym at eve.

At which she lough, and gan hire faste excuse,

And seyde, "It reyneth. lo, how sholde I gon?"

"Lat be," quod he, "ne stant nought thus to muse.

This moot be don! Ye shal be ther anon."

So at the laste herof they fille aton,

Or elles, softe he swor hire in hire ere,

He nolde nevere comen ther she were.

Soone after this, she to hym gan to rowne,

And axed hym if Troilus were there.

570 He swor hire nay, for he was out of towne,

And seyde, "Nece, I pose that he were;

Yow thurste nevere han the more fere;

For rather than men myghte hym ther aspie,

Me were levere a thousand fold to dye."

Nought list myn auctour fully to declare

What that she thoughte whan he seyde so,

That Troilus was out of towne yfare,

As if he seyde therof soth or no;

But that, withowten await, with hym to go,

580 She graunted hym, sith he hire that bisoughte,

And, as his nece, obeyed as hire oughte.

But natheles, yet gan she hym biseche,

Although with hym to gon it was no fere,

For to ben war of goosissh poeples speche,

That dremen thynges whiche as nevere were,

And wel avyse hym whom he broughte there;

And seyde hym, "Em, syn I moste on yow triste,

Loke al be wel, and do now as yow liste."

He swor hire yis, by stokkes and by stones,

590 And by the goddes that in hevene dwelle,

Or elles were hym levere, soule and bones,

With Pluto kyng as depe ben in helle

As Tantalus -- what sholde I more telle?

Whan al was wel, he roos and took his leve,

And she to soper com, whan it was eve,

With a certein of hire owen men,

And with hire faire nece Antigone,

And other of hire wommen nyne or ten.

But who was glad now, who, as trowe ye,

600 But Troilus, that stood and myght it se

Thorughout a litel wyndow in a stewe,

Ther he bishet syn mydnyght was in mewe,

Unwist of every wight but of Pandare?

But to the point: now whan that she was come,

With alle joie and alle frendes fare

Hire em anon in armes hath hire nome,

And after to the soper, alle and some,

Whan tyme was, ful softe they hem sette.

God woot, ther was no deynte for to fette!

610 And after soper gonnen they to rise,

At ese wel, with herte fresshe and glade;

And wel was hym that koude best devyse

To liken hire, or that hire laughen made:

He song; she pleyde; he tolde tale of Wade.

But at the laste, as every thyng hath ende,

She took hire leve, and nedes wolde wende.

But O Fortune, executrice of wierdes,

O influences of thise hevenes hye!

Soth is, that under God ye ben oure hierdes,

620 Though to us bestes ben the causez wrie.

This mene I now: for she gan homward hye,

But execut was al bisyde hire leve

The goddes wil, for which she moste bleve.

The bente moone with hire hornes pale,

Saturne, and Jove, in Cancro joyned were,

That swych a reyn from heven gan avale

That every maner womman that was there

Hadde of that smoky reyn a verray feere;

At which Pandare tho lough, and seyde thenne,

630 "Now were it tyme a lady to gon henne!

"But goode nece, if I myghte evere plese

Yow any thyng, than prey ich yow," quod he,

"To don myn herte as now so gret an ese

As for to dwelle here al this nyght with me,

For-whi this is youre owen hous, parde.

For by my trouthe, I sey it nought a-game,

To wende as now, it were to me a shame."

Criseyde, which that koude as muche good

As half a world, took hede of his preiere;

640 And syn it ron, and al was on a flod,

She thoughte, "As good chep may I dwellen here,

And graunte it gladly with a frendes chere,

And have a thonk, as grucche and thanne abide;

For hom to gon, it may nought wel bitide."

"I wol," quod she, "myn uncle lief and deere;

Syn that yow list, it skile is to be so.

I am right glad with yow to dwellen here;

I seyde but a-game I wolde go."

"Iwys, graunt mercy, nece," quod he tho,

650 "Were it a game or no, soth for to telle,

Now am I glad, syn that yow list to dwelle."

Thus al is wel; but tho bigan aright

The newe joie and al the feste agayn.

But Pandarus, if goodly hadde he myght,

He wolde han hyed hire to bedde fayn,

And seyde, "Lord, this is an huge rayn!

This were a weder for to slepen inne --

And that I rede us soone to bygynne.

"And nece, woot ye wher I wol yow leye,

660 For that we shul nat liggen far asonder,

And for ye neither shullen, dar I seye,

Heren noyse of reynes nor of thonder?

By God, right in my litel closet yonder.

And I wol in that outer hous allone

Be wardein of youre wommen everichone.

"And in this myddel chambre that ye se

Shal youre wommen slepen, wel and softe;

And there I seyde shal youreselven be;

And if ye liggen wel to-nyght, com ofte,

670 And careth nought what weder is alofte.

The wyn anon, and whan so that yow leste,

So go we slepe: I trowe it be the beste."

Ther nys no more, but hereafter soone,

The voide dronke, and travers drawe anon,

Gan every wight that hadde nought to done

More in the place out of the chaumbre gon.

And evere mo so sterneliche it ron,

And blew therwith so wondirliche loude,

That wel neigh no man heren other koude.

680 Tho Pandarus, hire em, right as hym oughte,

With wommen swiche as were hire most aboute,

Ful glad unto hire beddes syde hire broughte,

And took his leve, and gan ful lowe loute,

And seyde, "Here at this closet dore withoute,

Right overthwart, youre wommen liggen alle,

That whom yow list of hem ye may here calle."

So whan that she was in the closet leyd,

And alle hire wommen forth by ordinaunce

Abedde weren, ther as I have seyd,

690 Ther was nomore to skippen nor to traunce,

But boden go to bedde, with meschaunce,

If any wight was steryng anywhere,

And lat hem slepen that abedde were.

But Pandarus, that wel koude ech a deel

Th' olde daunce, and every point therinne,

Whan that he sey that alle thyng was wel,

He thought he wolde upon his werk bigynne,

And gan the stuwe doore al softe unpynne;

And stille as stoon, withouten lenger lette,

700 By Troilus adown right he hym sette,

And shortly to the point right for to gon,

Of al this werk he tolde hym word and ende,

And seyde, "Make the redy right anon,

For thow shalt into hevene blisse wende."

"Now, blisful Venus, thow me grace sende!"

Quod Troilus, "For nevere yet no nede

Hadde ich er now, ne halvendel the drede."

Quod Pandarus, "Ne drede the nevere a deel,

For it shal be right as thow wolt desire;

710 So thryve I, this nyght shal I make it weel,

Or casten al the gruwel in the fire."

"Yet, blisful Venus, this nyght thow me enspire,"

Quod Troilus, "As wys as I the serve,

And evere bet and bet shal, til I sterve.

"And if ich hadde, O Venus ful of myrthe,

Aspectes badde of Mars or of Saturne,

Or thow combust or let were in my birthe,

Thy fader prey al thilke harm disturne

Of grace, and that I glad ayein may turne,

720 For love of hym thow lovedest in the shawe --

I meene Adoun, that with the boor was slawe.

"O Jove ek, for the love of faire Europe,

The which in forme of bole awey thow fette,

Now help! O Mars, thow with thi blody cope,

For love of Cipris, thow me nought ne lette!

O Phebus, thynk whan Dane hireselven shette

Under the bark, and laurer wax for drede;

Yet for hire love, O help now at this nede!

"Mercurie, for the love of Hierse eke,

730 For which Pallas was with Aglawros wroth,

Now help! And ek Diane, I the biseke

That this viage be nought to the looth!

O fatal sustren which, er any cloth

Me shapen was, my destine me sponne,

So helpeth to this werk that is bygonne!"

Quod Pandarus, "Thow wrecched mouses herte,

Artow agast so that she wol the bite?

Wy! Don this furred cloke upon thy sherte,

And folwe me, for I wol have the wite.

740 But bid, and lat me gon biforn a lite."

And with that word he gan undon a trappe,

And Troilus he brought in by the lappe.

The sterne wynd so loude gan to route

That no wight oother noise myghte heere;

And they that layen at the dore withoute,

Ful sikerly they slepten alle yfere;

And Pandarus, with a ful sobre cheere,

Goth to the dore anon, withouten lette,

Ther as they laye, and softely it shette.

750 And as he com ayeynward pryvely,

His nece awook, and axed, "Who goth there?"

"My dere nece," quod he, "it am I.

Ne wondreth nought, ne have of it no fere."

And ner he com and seyde hire in hire ere,

"No word, for love of God, I yow biseche!

Lat no wight risen and heren of oure speche."

"What, which wey be ye comen, benedicite?"

Quod she; "And how, unwist of hem alle?"

"Here at this secre trappe-dore," quod he.

760 Quod tho Criseyde, "Lat me som wight calle!"

"I! God forbede that it sholde falle,"

Quod Pandarus, "that ye swich folye wroughte!

They myghte demen thyng they nevere er thoughte.

"It is nought good a slepyng hound to wake,

Ne yeve a wight a cause to devyne:

Youre wommen slepen alle, I undertake,

So that, for hem, the hous men myghte myne,

And slepen wollen til the sonne shyne.

And whan my tale brought is to an ende,

770 Unwist, right as I com, so wol I wende.

"Now, nece myn, ye shul wel understonde,"

Quod he, "so as ye wommen demen alle,

That for to holde in love a man in honde,

And hym hire lief and deere herte calle,

And maken hym an howve above a calle --

I meene, as love another in this while --

She doth hireself a shame and hym a gyle.

"Now, wherby that I telle yow al this:

Ye woot youreself, as wel as any wight,

780 How that youre love al fully graunted is

To Troilus, the worthieste knyght,

Oon of this world, and therto trouthe yplight,

That, but it were on hym along, ye nolde

Hym nevere falsen while ye lyven sholde.

"Now stant it thus, that sith I fro yow wente,

This Troilus, right platly for to seyn,

Is thorugh a goter, by a pryve wente,

Into my chaumbre come in al this reyn,

Unwist of every manere wight, certeyn,

790 Save of myself, as wisly have I joye,

And by that feith I shal Priam of Troie.

"And he is come in swich peyne and distresse

That, but he be al fully wood by this,

He sodeynly mot falle into wodnesse,

But if God helpe; and cause whi this is.

He seith hym told is of a frend of his,

How that ye sholden love oon hatte Horaste;

For sorwe of which this nyght shal ben his laste."

Criseyde, which that al this wonder herde,

800 Gan sodeynly aboute hire herte colde,

And with a sik she sorwfully answerde,

"Allas! I wende, whoso tales tolde,

My deere herte wolde me nought holde

So lightly fals! Allas, conceytes wronge,

What harm they don! For now lyve I to longe!

"Horaste! Allas, and falsen Troilus?

I knowe hym nought, God helpe me so!" quod she.

"Allas, what wikked spirit tolde hym thus?

Now certes, em, tomorwe and I hym se,

810 I shal therof as ful excusen me,

As evere dide womman, if hym like."

And with that word she gan ful soore sike.

"O God," quod she, "so worldly selynesse,

Which clerkes callen fals felicitee,

Imedled is with many a bitternesse!

Ful angwissous than is, God woot," quod she,

"Condicioun of veyn prosperitee:

For either joies comen nought yfeere,

Or elles no wight hath hem alwey here.

820 "O brotel wele of mannes joie unstable!

With what wight so thow be, or how thow pleye,

Either he woot that thow, joie, art muable,

Or woot it nought; it mot ben oon of tweye.

Now if he woot it nought, how may he seye

That he hath verray joie and selynesse,

That is of ignoraunce ay in derknesse?

"Now if he woot that joie is transitorie,

As every joye of worldly thyng mot flee,

Than every tyme he that hath in memorie,

830 The drede of lesyng maketh hym that he

May in no perfit selynesse be;

And if to lese his joie he sette a myte,

Than semeth it that joie is worth ful lite.

"Wherfore I wol diffyne in this matere,

That trewely, for aught I kan espie,

Ther is no verray weele in this world heere.

But O thow wikked serpent, jalousie,

Thow mysbyleved envyous folie,

Why hastow Troilus mad to me untriste,

840 That nevere yet agylte hym, that I wiste?"

Quod Pandarus, "Thus fallen is this cas --"

"Wy! Uncle myn," quod she, "who tolde hym this?

Why doth my deere herte thus, allas?"

"Ye woot, ye, nece myn," quod he, "what is.

I hope al shal be wel that is amys,

For ye may quenche al this, if that yow leste --

And doth right so, for I holde it the beste."

"So shal I do to-morwe, ywys," quod she,

"And God toforn, so that it shal suffise."

850 "To-morwe? Allas, that were a fair!" quod he;

"Nay, nay, it may nat stonden in this wise,

For, nece myn, thus writen clerkes wise,

That peril is with drecchyng in ydrawe;

Nay, swiche abodes ben nought worth an hawe.

"Nece, alle thyng hath tyme, I dar avowe;

For whan a chaumbre afire is or an halle,

Wel more nede is, it sodeynly rescowe

Than to dispute and axe amonges alle

How this candel in the strawe is falle.

860 A, benedicite! For al among that fare

The harm is don, and fare-wel feldefare!

"And nece myn -- ne take it naught agrief --

If that ye suffre hym al nyght in this wo,

God help me so, ye hadde hym nevere lief!

That dar I seyn, now ther is but we two.

But wel I woot that ye wol nat do so;

Ye ben to wys to doon so gret folie,

To putte his lif al nyght in jupertie."

"Hadde I hym nevere lief? by God, I weene

870 Ye hadde nevere thyng so lief!" quod she.

"Now by my thrift," quod he, "that shal be seene!

For syn ye make this ensaumple of me,

If ich al nyght wolde hym in sorwe se,

For al the tresour in the town of Troie,

I bidde God I nevere mote have joie.

"Now loke thanne, if ye that ben his love

Shul putte his lif al night in jupertie

For thyng of nought, now by that God above,

Naught oonly this delay comth of folie,

880 But of malice, if that I shal naught lie.

What! Platly, and ye suffre hym in destresse,

Ye neyther bounte don ne gentilesse."

Quod tho Criseyde, "Wol ye don o thyng

And ye therwith shal stynte al his disese?

Have heere, and bereth hym this blewe ryng,

For ther is nothyng myghte hym bettre plese,

Save I myself, ne more hys herte apese;

And sey my deere herte that his sorwe

Is causeles; that shal be sene to-morwe."

890 "A ryng?" quod he, "Ye haselwodes shaken!

Ye, nece myn, that ryng moste han a stoon

That myghte dede men alyve maken;

And swich a ryng trowe I that ye have non.

Discrecioun out of youre hed is gon;

That fele I now," quod he, "and that is routhe.

O tyme ilost, wel maistow corsen slouthe!

"Woot ye not wel that noble and heigh corage

Ne sorweth nought, ne stynteth ek, for lite?

But if a fool were in a jalous rage,

900 I nolde setten at his sorwe a myte,

But feffe hym with a fewe wordes white

Anothir day, whan that I myghte hym fynde;

But this thyng stant al in another kynde.

"This is so gentil and so tendre of herte

That with his deth he wol his sorwes wreke;

For trusteth wel, how sore that hym smerte,

He wol to yow no jalous wordes speke.

And forthi, nece, er that his herte breke,

So speke youreself to hym of this matere,

910 For with o word ye may his herte stere.

"Now have I told what peril he is inne,

And his comynge unwist is to every wight;

Ne, parde, harm may ther be non, ne synne:

I wol myself be with yow al this nyght.

Ye knowe ek how it is youre owen knyght,

And that bi right ye moste upon hym triste,

And I al prest to fecche hym whan yow liste."

This accident so pitous was to here,

And ek so like a sooth at prime face,

920 And Troilus hire knyght to hir so deere,

His prive comyng, and the siker place,

That though that she did hym as thanne a grace,

Considered alle thynges as they stoode,

No wonder is, syn she did al for goode.

Criseyde answerde, "As wisly God at reste

My soule brynge, as me is for hym wo!

And em, iwis, fayn wolde I don the beste,

If that ich hadde grace to do so;

But whether that ye dwelle or for hym go,

930 I am, til God me bettre mynde sende,

At dulcarnoun, right at my wittes ende."

Quod Pandarus, "Yee, nece, wol ye here?

Dulcarnoun called is `flemyng of wrecches':

It semeth hard, for wrecches wol nought lere,

For verray slouthe or other wilfull tecches;

This seyd by hem that ben nought worth two fecches;

But ye ben wis, and that we han on honde

Nis neither hard, ne skilful to withstonde."

"Than, em," quod she, "doth herof as yow list.

940 But er he com, I wil up first arise,

And for the love of God, syn al my trist

Is on yow two, and ye ben bothe wise,

So werketh now in so discret a wise

That I honour may have, and he plesaunce:

For I am here al in youre governaunce."

"That is wel seyd," quod he, "my nece deere.

Ther good thrift on that wise gentil herte!

But liggeth stille, and taketh hym right here --

It nedeth nought no ferther for hym sterte.

950 And ech of yow ese otheres sorwes smerte,

For love of God! And Venus, I the herye;

For soone hope I we shul ben alle merye."

This Troilus ful soone on knees hym sette

Ful sobrely, right be hyre beddes hed,

And in his beste wyse his lady grette.

But Lord, so she wex sodeynliche red!

Ne though men sholde smyten of hire hed,

She kouth. nought a word aright out brynge

So sodeynly, for his sodeyn comynge.

960 But Pandarus, that so wel koude feele

In every thyng, to pleye anon bigan,

And seyde, "Nece, se how this lord kan knele!

Now for youre trouthe, se this gentil man!"

And with that word he for a quysshen ran,

And seyde, "Kneleth now, while that yow leste;

There God youre hertes brynge soone at reste!"

Kan I naught seyn, for she bad hym nought rise,

If sorwe it putte out of hire remembraunce,

Or elles that she took it in the wise

970 Of dewete, as for his observaunce;

But wel fynde I she dede hym this plesaunce,

That she hym kiste, although she siked sore,

And bad hym sitte adown withouten more.

Quod Pandarus, "Now wol ye wel bigynne.

Now doth hym sitte, goode nece deere,

Upon youre beddes syde al ther withinne,

That ech of yow the bet may other heere."

And with that word he drow hym to the feere,

And took a light, and fond his contenaunce,

980 As for to looke upon an old romaunce.

Criseyde, that was Troilus lady right,

And cler stood on a ground of sikernesse,

Al thoughte she hire servant and hire knyght

Ne sholde of right non untrouthe in hire gesse,

Yet natheles, considered his distresse,

And that love is in cause of swich folie,

Thus to hym spak she of his jalousie:

"Lo, herte myn, as wolde the excellence

Of love, ayeins the which that no man may --

990 Ne oughte ek -- goodly make resistence,

And ek bycause I felte wel and say

Youre grete trouthe and servise every day,

And that youre herte al myn was, soth to seyne,

This drof me for to rewe upon youre peyne.

"And youre goodnesse have I founde alwey yit,

Of which, my deere herte and al my knyght,

I thonke it yow, as fer as I have wit,

Al kan I nought as muche as it were right;

And I, emforth my connyng and my might,

1000 Have and ay shal, how sore that me smerte,

Ben to yow trewe and hool with al myn herte,

"And dredeles, that shal be founde at preve.

But, herte myn, what al this is to seyne

Shal wel be told, so that ye nought yow greve,

Though I to yow right on youreself compleyne,

For therwith mene I fynaly the peyne

That halt youre herte and myn in hevynesse

Fully to slen, and every wrong redresse.

"My goode myn, noot I for-why ne how

1010 That jalousie, allas, that wikked wyvere,

Thus causeles is cropen into yow,

The harm of which I wolde fayn delyvere.

Allas, that he, al hool or of hym slyvere,

Shuld han his refut in so digne a place;

Ther Jove hym sone out of youre herte arace!

"But O, thow Jove, O auctour of nature,

Is this an honour to thi deyte,

That folk ungiltif suffren hire injure,

And who that giltif is, al quyt goth he?

1020 O, were it lefull for to pleyn on the,

That undeserved suffrest jalousie,

Of that I wolde upon the pleyne and crie!

"Ek al my wo is this, that folk now usen

To seyn right thus, `Ye, jalousie is love!'

And wolde a busshel venym al excusen,

For that o greyn of love is on it shove.

But that woot heighe God that sit above,

If it be likkere love, or hate, or grame;

And after that, it oughte bere his name.

1030 "But certeyn is, som manere jalousie

Is excusable more than som, iwys;

As whan cause is, and som swich fantasie

With piete so wel repressed is

That it unnethe doth or seyth amys,

But goodly drynketh up al his distresse --

And that excuse I, for the gentilesse;

"And som so ful of furie is and despit

That it sourmounteth his repressioun.

But herte myn, ye be nat in that plit,

1040 That thonke I God; for which youre passioun

I wol nought calle it but illusioun

Of habundaunce of love and besy cure,

That doth youre herte this disese endure.

"Of which I am right sory but nought wroth;

But, for my devoir and youre hertes reste,

Wherso yow list, by ordal or by oth,

By sort, or in what wise so yow leste,

For love of God, lat preve it for the beste;

And if that I be giltif, do me deye!

1050 Allas, what myght I more don or seye?"

With that a fewe brighte teris newe

Owt of hire eighen fille, and thus she seyde,

"Now God, thow woost, in thought ne dede untrewe

To Troilus was nevere yet Criseyde."

With that here heed down in the bed she leyde,

And with the sheete it wreigh, and sighte soore,

And held hire pees; nought o word spak she more.

But now help God to quenchen al this sorwe!

So hope I that he shal, for he best may.

1060 For I have seyn of a ful misty morwe

Folowen ful ofte a myrie someris day;

And after wynter foloweth grene May;

Men sen alday, and reden ek in stories,

That after sharpe shoures ben victories.

This Troilus, whan he hire wordes herde,

Have ye no care, hym liste nought to slepe;

For it thoughte hym no strokes of a yerde

To heere or seen Criseyde, his lady, wepe;

But wel he felt aboute his herte crepe,

1070 For everi tere which that Criseyde asterte,

The crampe of deth to streyne hym by the herte.

And in his mynde he gan the tyme acorse

That he com there, and that, that he was born;

For now is wikke torned into worse,

And al that labour he hath don byforn,

He wende it lost; he thoughte he nas but lorn.

"O Pandarus," thoughte he, "allas, thi wile

Serveth of nought, so weylaway the while!"

And therwithal he heng adown the heed,

1080 And fil on knees, and sorwfully he sighte.

What myghte he seyn? He felte he nas but deed,

For wroth was she that sholde his sorwes lighte.

But natheles, whan that he speken myghte,

Than seyde he thus, "God woot that of this game,

Whan al is wist, than am I nought to blame."

Therwith the sorwe so his herte shette

That from his eyen fil there nought a tere,

And every spirit his vigour in knette,

So they astoned or oppressed were.

1090 The felyng of his sorwe, or of his fere,

Or of aught elles, fled was out of towne;

And down he fel al sodeynly a-swowne.

This was no litel sorwe for to se;

But al was hust, and Pandare up as faste;

"O nece, pes, or we be lost!" quod he,

"Beth naught agast!" But certeyn, at the laste,

For this or that, he into bed hym caste,

And seyde, "O thef, is this a mannes herte?"

And of he rente al to his bare sherte,

1100 And seyde, "Nece, but ye helpe us now,

Allas, youre owen Troilus is lorn!"

"Iwis, so wolde I, and I wiste how,

Ful fayn," quod she. "Allas, that I was born"!

"Yee, nece, wol ye pullen out the thorn

That stiketh in his herte?" quod Pandare.

"Sey `Al foryeve,' and stynt is al this fare!"

"Ye, that to me," quod she, "ful levere were

Than al the good the sonne aboute gooth."

And therwithal she swor hym in his ere,

1110 "Iwys, my deere herte, I am nought wroth,

Have here my trouthe!" -- and many an other oth.

"Now speke to me, for it am I, Criseyde!"

But al for nought; yit myght he nought abreyde.

Therwith his pous and paumes of his hondes

They gan to frote, and wete his temples tweyne;

And to deliveren hym fro bittre bondes

She ofte hym kiste; and shortly for to seyne,

Hym to revoken she did al hire peyne;

And at the laste, he gan his breth to drawe,

1120 And of his swough sone after that adawe,

And gan bet mynde and reson to hym take,

But wonder soore he was abayst, iwis;

And with a sik, whan he gan bet awake,

He seyde, "O mercy, God, what thyng is this?"

"Why do ye with youreselven thus amys?"

Quod tho Criseyde, "Is this a mannes game?

What, Troilus, wol ye do thus for shame?"

And therwithal hire arm over hym she leyde,

And al foryaf, and ofte tyme hym keste.

1130 He thonked hire, and to hire spak, and seyde

As fil to purpos for his herte reste;

And she to that answerde hym as hire leste,

And with hire goodly wordes hym disporte

She gan, and ofte his sorwes to comforte.

Quod Pandarus, "For aught I kan aspien,

This light, nor I, ne serven here of nought.

Light is nought good for sike folkes yen!

But, for the love of God, syn ye ben brought

In thus good plit, lat now no hevy thought

1140 Ben hangyng in the hertes of yow tweye" --

And bar the candel to the chymeneye.

Soone after this, though it no nede were,

Whan she swiche othes as hire leste devyse

Hadde of hym take, hire thoughte tho no fere,

Ne cause ek non to bidde hym thennes rise.

Yet lasse thyng than othes may suffise

In many a cas, for every wyght, I gesse,

That loveth wel, meneth but gentilesse.

But in effect she wolde wite anon

1150 Of what man, and ek wheer, and also why

He jalous was, syn ther was cause non;

And ek the sygne that he took it by,

She badde hym that to telle hire bisily,

Or elles, certeyn, she bar hym on honde

That this was don of malice, hire to fonde.

Withouten more, shortly for to seyne,

He most obeye unto his lady heste;

And for the lasse harm, he moste feyne.

He seyde hire, whan she was at swich a feste,

1160 She myght on hym han loked at the leste --

Noot I nought what, al deere ynough a rysshe,

As he that nedes most a cause fisshe.

And she answerde, "Swete, al were it so,

What harm was that, syn I non yvel mene?

For, by that God that bought us bothe two,

In alle thyng is myn entente cleene.

Swiche argumentes ne ben naught worth a beene.

Wol ye the childissh jalous contrefete?

Now were it worthi that ye were ybete."

1170 Tho Troilus gan sorwfully to sike --

Lest she be wroth, hym thoughte his herte deyde --

And seyde, "Allas, upon my sorwes sike

Have mercy, swete herte myn, Criseyde!

And if that in tho wordes that I seyde

Be any wrong, I wol no more trespace.

Doth what yow list; I am al in youre grace."

And she answerde, "Of gilt misericorde!

That is to seyn, that I foryeve al this;

And evere more on this nyght yow recorde,

1180 And beth wel war ye do namore amys."

"Nay, dere herte myn," quod he, "iwys!"

"And now," quod she, "that I have don yow smerte,

Foryeve it me, myn owene swete herte."

This Troilus, with blisse of that supprised,

Putte al in Goddes hand, as he that mente

Nothing but wel; and sodeynly avysed,

He hire in armes faste to hym hente.

And Pandarus with a ful good entente

Leyde hym to slepe, and seyde, "If ye be wise,

1190 Swouneth nought now, lest more folk arise!"

What myghte or may the sely larke seye,

Whan that the sperhauk hath it in his foot?

I kan namore; but of thise ilke tweye --

To whom this tale sucre be or soot --

Though that I tarie a yer, somtyme I moot,

After myn auctour, tellen hire gladnesse,

As wel as I have told hire hevynesse.

Criseyde, which that felte hire thus itake,

As writen clerkes in hire bokes olde,

1200 Right as an aspes leef she gan to quake,

Whan she hym felte hire in his armes folde.

But Troilus, al hool of cares colde,

Gan thanken tho the bryghte goddes sevene;

Thus sondry peynes bryngen folk in hevene.

This Troilus in armes gan hire streyne,

And seyde, "O swete, as evere mot I gon,

Now be ye kaught; now is ther but we tweyne!

Now yeldeth yow, for other bote is non!"

To that Criseyde answerde thus anon,

1210 "Ne hadde I er now, my swete herte deere,

Ben yolde, ywis, I were now nought heere!"

O, sooth is seyd, that heled for to be

As of a fevre or other gret siknesse,

Men moste drynke, as men may ofte se,

Ful bittre drynke; and for to han gladnesse

Men drynken ofte peyne and gret distresse --

I mene it here, as for this aventure,

That thorugh a peyne hath founden al his cure.

And now swetnesse semeth more swete,

1220 That bitternesse assaied was byforn;

For out of wo in blisse now they flete;

Non swich they felten sithen they were born.

Now is this bet than bothe two be lorn.

For love of God, take every womman heede

To werken thus, if it comth to the neede.

Criseyde, al quyt from every drede and tene,

As she that juste cause hadde hym to triste,

Made hym swych feste it joye was to sene,

Whan she his trouthe and clene entente wiste;

1230 And as aboute a tree, with many a twiste,

Bytrent and writh the swote wodebynde,

Gan ech of hem in armes other wynde.

And as the newe abaysed nyghtyngale,

That stynteth first whan she bygynneth to synge,

Whan that she hereth any herde tale,

Or in the hegges any wyght stirynge,

And after siker doth hire vois out rynge,

Right so Criseyde, whan hire drede stente,

Opned hire herte and tolde hym hire entente.

1240 And right as he that seth his deth yshapen,

And dyen mot, in ought that he may gesse,

And sodeynly rescous doth hym escapen,

And from his deth is brought in sykernesse,

For al this world, in swych present gladnesse

Was Troilus, and hath his lady swete.

With worse hap God lat us nevere mete!

Hire armes smale, hire streghte bak and softe,

Hire sydes longe, flesshly, smothe, and white

He gan to stroke, and good thrift bad ful ofte

1250 Hire snowissh throte, hire brestes rounde and lite.

Thus in this hevene he gan hym to delite,

And therwithal a thousand tyme hire kiste,

That what to don, for joie unnethe he wiste.

Than seyde he thus: "O Love, O Charite!

Thi moder ek, Citheria the swete,

After thiself next heried be she --

Venus mene I, the wel-willy planete! --

And next that, Imeneus, I the grete,

For nevere man was to yow goddes holde

1260 As I, which ye han brought fro cares colde.

"Benigne Love, thow holy bond of thynges,

Whoso wol grace and list the nought honouren,

Lo, his desir wol fle withouten wynges;

For noldestow of bownte hem socouren

That serven best and most alwey labouren,

Yet were al lost, that dar I wel seyn, certes,

But if thi grace passed oure desertes.

"And for thow me, that koude leest disserve

Of hem that noumbred ben unto thi grace,

1270 Hast holpen, ther I likly was to sterve,

And me bistowed in so heigh a place

That thilke boundes may no blisse pace,

I kan namore; but laude and reverence

Be to thy bounte and thyn excellence!"

And therwithal Criseyde anon he kiste,

Of which certein she felte no disese,

And thus seyde he: "Now wolde God I wiste,

Myn herte swete, how I yow myght plese!

What man," quod he, "was evere thus at ese

1280 As I, on which the faireste and the beste

That evere I say deyneth hire herte reste?

"Here may men seen that mercy passeth right;

Th' experience of that is felt in me,

That am unworthi to so swete a wight.

But herte myn, of youre benignite,

So thynketh, though that I unworthi be,

Yet mot I nede amenden in som wyse,

Right thorugh the vertu of youre heigh servyse.

"And for the love of God, my lady deere,

1290 Syn God hath wrought me for I shall yow serve --

As thus I mene: he wol ye be my steere,

To do me lyve, if that yow liste, or sterve --

So techeth me how that I may disserve

Youre thonk, so that I thorugh myn ignoraunce

Ne do no thyng that yow be displesaunce.

"For certes, fresshe wommanliche wif,

This dar I seye, that trouth and diligence,

That shal ye fynden in me al my lif;

N' y wol nat, certein, breken youre defence;

1300 And if I do, present or in absence,

For love of God, lat sle me with the dede,

If that it like unto youre wommanhede."

"Iwys," quod she, "myn owen hertes list,

My ground of ese, and al myn herte deere,

Gramercy, for on that is al my trist!

But lat us falle awey fro this matere,

For it suffiseth, this that seyd is heere,

And at o word, withouten repentaunce,

Welcome, my knyght, my pees, my suffisaunce!"

1310 Of hire delit or joies oon the leeste

Were impossible to my wit to seye;

But juggeth ye that han ben at the feste

Of swich gladnesse, if that hem liste pleye!

I kan namore, but thus thise ilke tweye

That nyght, bitwixen drede and sikernesse,

Felten in love the grete worthynesse.

O blisful nyght, of hem so longe isought,

How blithe unto hem bothe two thow weere!

Why nad I swich oon with my soule ybought,

1320 Ye, or the leeste joie that was theere?

Awey, thow foule daunger and thow feere,

And lat hem in this hevene blisse dwelle,

That is so heigh that al ne kan I telle!

But sooth is, though I kan nat tellen al,

As kan myn auctour, of his excellence,

Yet have I seyd, and God toforn, and shal

In every thyng, al holly his sentence;

And if that ich, at Loves reverence,

Have any word in eched for the beste,

1330 Doth therwithal right as youreselven leste.

For myne wordes, heere and every part,

I speke hem alle under correccioun

Of yow that felyng han in loves art,

And putte it al in youre discrecioun

To encresse or maken dymynucioun

Of my langage, and that I yow biseche.

But now to purpos of my rather speche.

Thise ilke two, that ben in armes laft,

So loth to hem asonder gon it were,

1340 That ech from other wenden ben biraft,

Or elles -- lo, this was hir mooste feere --

That al this thyng but nyce dremes were;

For which ful ofte ech of hem seyde, "O swete,

Clippe ich yow thus, or elles I it meete?"

And Lord! So he gan goodly on hire se

That nevere his look ne bleynte from hire face,

And seyde, "O deere herte, may it be

That it be soth, that ye ben in this place?"

"Yee, herte myn, God thank I of his grace,"

1350 Quod tho Criseyde, and therwithal hym kiste,

That where his spirit was, for joie he nyste.

This Troilus ful ofte hire eyen two

Gan for to kisse, and seyde, "O eyen clere,

It weren ye that wroughte me swich wo,

Ye humble nettes of my lady deere!

Though ther be mercy writen in youre cheere,

God woot, the text ful hard is, soth, to fynde!

How koude ye withouten bond me bynde?"

Therwith he gan hire faste in armes take,

1360 And wel a thousand tymes gan he syke --

Naught swiche sorwfull sikes as men make

For wo, or elles when that folk ben sike,

But esy sykes, swiche as ben to like,

That shewed his affeccioun withinne;

Of swiche sikes koude he nought bilynne.

Soone after this they spake of sondry thynges,

As fel to purpos of this aventure,

And pleyinge entrechaungeden hire rynges,

Of whiche I kan nought tellen no scripture;

1370 But wel I woot, a broche, gold and asure,

In which a ruby set was lik an herte,

Criseyde hym yaf, and stak it on his sherte.

Lord, trowe ye a coveytous or a wrecche,

That blameth love and halt of it despit,

That of tho pens that he kan mokre and kecche

Was evere yit yyeven hym swich delit

As is in love, in o poynt, in som plit?

Nay, douteles, for also God me save,

So perfit joie may no nygard have.

1380 They wol seyn "Yis," but Lord, so they lye,

Tho besy wrecches, ful of wo and drede!

Thei callen love a woodnesse or folie,

But it shall falle hem as I shal yow rede:

They shal forgon the white and ek the rede,

And lyve in wo, ther God yeve hem meschaunce,

And every lovere in his trouthe avaunce!

As wolde God tho wrecches that dispise

Servise of love hadde erys also longe

As hadde Mida, ful of coveytise,

1390 And therto dronken hadde as hoot and stronge

As Crassus did for his affectis wronge,

To techen hem that they ben in the vice,

And loveres nought, although they holde hem nyce.

Thise ilke two of whom that I yow seye,

Whan that hire hertes wel assured were,

Tho gonne they to speken and to pleye,

And ek rehercen how, and whan, and where

Thei knewe hem first, and every wo and feere

That passed was; but al swich hevynesse --

1400 I thank it God -- was torned to gladnesse.

And evere mo, when that hem fel to speke

Of any wo of swich a tyme agoon,

With kissyng al that tale sholde breke

And fallen in a newe joye anoon;

And diden al hire myght, syn they were oon,

For to recoveren blisse and ben at eise,

And passed wo with joie contrepeise.

Resoun wol nought that I speke of slep,

For it acordeth nought to my matere.

1410 God woot, they took of that ful litel kep!

But lest this nyght, that was to hem so deere,

Ne sholde in veyn escape in no manere,

It was byset in joie and bisynesse

Of al that souneth into gentilesse.

But whan the cok, comune astrologer,

Gan on his brest to bete and after crowe,

And Lucyfer, the dayes messager,

Gan for to rise and out hire bemes throwe,

And estward roos -- to hym that koude it knowe --

1420 Fortuna Major, that anoon Criseyde,

With herte soor, to Troilus thus seyde:

"Myn hertes lif, my trist, al my plesaunce,

That I was born, allas, what me is wo,

That day of us moot make disseveraunce!

For tyme it is to ryse and hennes go,

Or ellis I am lost for evere mo!

O nyght, allas, why nyltow over us hove

As longe as whan Almena lay by Jove?

"O blake nyght, as folk in bokes rede,

1430 That shapen art by God this world to hide

At certeyn tymes wyth thi derke wede,

That under that men myghte in reste abide,

Wel oughten bestes pleyne and folk the chide,

That there as day wyth labour wolde us breste,

That thow thus fleest, and deynest us nought reste.

"Thow doost, allas, to shortly thyn office,

Thow rakle nyght! Ther God, maker of kynde,

The, for thyn haste and thyn unkynde vice,

So faste ay to oure hemysperie bynde

1440 That nevere more under the ground thow wynde!

For now, for thow so hiest out of Troie,

Have I forgon thus hastili my joie!"

This Troilus, that with tho wordes felte,

As thoughte hym tho, for pietous distresse

The blody teris from his herte melte,

As he that nevere yet swich hevynesse

Assayed hadde, out of so gret gladnesse,

Gan therwithal Criseyde, his lady deere,

In armes streyne, and seyde in this manere:

1450 "O cruel day, accusour of the joie

That nyght and love han stole and faste iwryen,

Acorsed be thi comyng into Troye,

For every bore hath oon of thi bryghte yen!

Envyous day, what list the so to spien?

What hastow lost? Why sekestow this place?

Ther God thi light so quenche, for his grace!

"Allas, what have thise loveris the agylt,

Dispitous day? Thyn be the peyne of helle!

For many a lovere hastow slayn, and wilt;

1460 Thy pourynge in wol nowher lat hem dwelle.

What profrestow thi light here for to selle?

Go selle it hem that smale selys grave;

We wol the nought; us nedeth no day have."

And ek the sonne, Titan, gan he chide,

And seyde, "O fool, wel may men the dispise,

That hast the dawyng al nyght by thi syde,

And suffrest hire so soone up fro the rise

For to disese loveris in this wyse.

What, holde youre bed ther, thow, and ek thi Morwe!

1470 I bidde God, so yeve yow bothe sorwe!"

Therwith ful soore he syghte, and thus he seyde:

"My lady right, and of my wele or wo

The welle and roote, O goodly myn Criseyde,

And shal I rise, allas, and shal I so?

Now fele I that myn herte moot a-two,

For how sholde I my lif an houre save,

Syn that with yow is al the lif ich have?

"What shal I don? For, certes, I not how,

Ne whan, allas, I shal the tyme see

1480 That in this plit I may ben eft with yow;

And of my lif, God woot how that shal be,

Syn that desir right now so streyneth me

That I am ded anon, but I retourne.

How sholde I longe, allas, fro yow sojourne?

"But natheles, myn owen lady bright,

Were it so that I wiste outrely

That I, youre humble servant and youre knyght,

Were in youre herte iset so fermely

As ye in myn -- the which thyng, trewely,

1490 Me levere were than thise worldes tweyne --

Yet sholde I bet enduren al my peyne."

To that Criseyde answerde right anon,

And with a sik she seyde, "O herte deere,

The game, ywys, so ferforth now is gon

That first shal Phebus fallen fro his speere,

And everich egle ben the dowves feere,

And everich roche out of his place sterte,

Er Troilus oute of Criseydes herte.

"Ye ben so depe in-with myn herte grave,

1500 That, though I wolde it torne out of my thought,

As wisly verray God my soule save,

To dyen in the peyne, I koude nought.

And, for the love of God that us hath wrought,

Lat in youre brayn non other fantasie

So crepe that it cause me to dye!

"And that ye me wolde han as faste in mynde

As I have yow, that wolde I yow biseche;

And if I wiste sothly that to fynde,

God myghte nought a poynt my joies eche.

1510 But herte myn, withouten more speche,

Beth to me trewe, or ellis were it routhe,

For I am thyn, by God and by my trouthe!

"Beth glad, forthy, and lyve in sikernesse!

Thus seyde I nevere er this, ne shal to mo;

And if to yow it were a gret gladnesse

To torne ayeyn soone after that ye go,

As fayn wolde I as ye that it were so,

As wisly God myn herte brynge at reste!"

And hym in armes tok, and ofte keste.

1520 Agayns his wil, sith it mot nedes be,

This Troilus up ros, and faste hym cledde,

And in his armes took his lady free

An hondred tyme, and on his wey hym spedde;

And with swich voys as though his herte bledde,

He seyde, "Farwel, dere herte swete;

Ther God us graunte sownde and soone to mete!"

To which no word for sorwe she answerde,

So soore gan his partyng hire distreyne;

And Troilus unto his paleys ferde,

1530 As wo-bygon as she was, soth to seyne.

So harde hym wrong of sharp desir the peyne

For to ben eft there he was in plesaunce,

That it may nevere out of his remembraunce.

Retorned to his real paleys soone,

He softe into his bed gan for to slynke,

To slepe longe, as he was wont to doone.

But al for nought; he may wel ligge and wynke,

But slep ne may ther in his herte synke,

Thynkyng how she for whom desir hym brende

1540 A thousand fold was worth more than he wende.

And in his thought gan up and down to wynde

Hire wordes alle, and every countenaunce,

And fermely impressen in his mynde

The leeste point that to him was plesaunce;

And verraylich of thilke remembraunce

Desir al newe hym brende, and lust to brede

Gan more than erst, and yet took he non hede.

Criseyde also, right in the same wyse,

Of Troilus gan in hire herte shette

1550 His worthynesse, his lust, his dedes wise,

His gentilesse, and how she with hym mette,

Thonkyng Love he so wel hire bisette,

Desiryng eft to han hire herte deere

In swich a plit, she dorste make hym cheere.

Pandare, o-morwe, which that comen was

Unto his nece and gan hire faire grete,

Seyde, "Al this nyght so reyned it, allas,

That al my drede is that ye, nece swete,

Han litel laiser had to slepe and mete.

1560 Al nyght," quod he, "hath reyn so do me wake,

That som of us, I trowe, hire hedes ake."

And ner he com, and seyde, "How stant it now

This mury morwe? Nece, how kan ye fare?"

Criseyde answerde, "Nevere the bet for yow,

Fox that ye ben! God yeve youre herte kare!

God help me so, ye caused al this fare,

Trowe I," quod she, "for al youre wordes white.

O, whoso seeth yow knoweth yow ful lite."

With that she gan hire face for to wrye

1570 With the shete, and wax for shame al reed;

And Pandarus gan under for to prie,

And seyde, "Nece, if that I shal be ded,

Have here a swerd and smyteth of myn hed!"

With that his arm al sodeynly he thriste

Under hire nekke, and at the laste hire kyste.

I passe al that which chargeth nought to seye.

What! God foryaf his deth, and she al so

Foryaf, and with here uncle gan to pleye,

For other cause was ther noon than so.

1580 But of this thing right to the effect to go:

Whan tyme was, hom til here hous she wente,

And Pandarus hath fully his entente.

Now torne we ayeyn to Troilus,

That resteles ful longe abedde lay,

And pryvely sente after Pandarus,

To hym to com in al the haste he may.

He com anon -- nought ones seyde he nay --

And Troilus ful sobrely he grette,

And down upon his beddes syde hym sette.

1590 This Troilus, with al th' affeccioun

Of frendes love that herte may devyse,

To Pandarus on knowes fil adown,

And er that he wolde of the place arise

He gan hym thonken in his beste wise

An hondred sythe, and gan the tyme blesse

That he was born, to brynge hym fro destresse.

He seyde, "O frend of frendes the alderbeste

That evere was, the sothe for to telle,

Thow hast in hevene ybrought my soule at reste

1600 Fro Flegitoun, the fery flood of helle,

That, though I myght a thousand tymes selle

Upon a day my lif in thi servise,

It myghte naught a moote in that suffise.

"The sonne, which that al the world may se,

Saugh nevere yet my lif, that dar I leye,

So inly fair and goodly as is she

Whos I am al, and shal, tyl that I deye.

And that I thus am hires, dar I seye,

That thanked be the heighe worthynesse

1610 Of Love, and ek thi kynde bysynesse.

"Thus hastow me no litel thing yyive,

For which to the obliged be for ay

My lif. And whi? For thorugh thyn help I lyve,

Or elles ded hadde I ben many a day."

And with that word down in his bed he lay,

And Pandarus ful sobrely hym herde

Tyl al was seyd, and than he thus answerde:

"My deere frend, if I have don for the

In any cas, God wot, it is me lief,

1620 And am as glad as man may of it be,

God help me so; but tak now nat a-grief

That I shal seyn: be war of this meschief,

That, there as thow now brought art in thy blisse,

That thow thiself ne cause it nat to misse.

"For of fortunes sharpe adversitee

The worste kynde of infortune is this,

A man to han ben in prosperitee,

And it remembren whan it passed is.

Th' art wis ynough; forthi do nat amys:

1630 Be naught to rakel, theigh thow sitte warme,

For if thow be, certeyn it wol the harme.

"Thow art at ese, and hold the wel therinne;

For also seur as reed is every fir,

As gret a craft is kepe wel as wynne.

Bridle alwey wel thi speche and thi desir,

For worldly joie halt nought but by a wir.

That preveth wel, it brest al day so ofte;

Forthi nede is to werken with it softe."

Quod Troilus, "I hope, and God toforn,

1640 My deere frend, that I shal so me beere

That in my gylt ther shal nothyng be lorn,

N' y nyl nought rakle as for to greven heere.

It nedeth naught this matere ofte stere;

For wystestow myn herte wel, Pandare,

God woot, of this thow woldest litel care."

Tho gan he telle hym of his glade nyght,

And wherof first his herte dred, and how,

And seyde, "Frend, as I am trewe knyght,

And by that feyth I shal to God and yow,

1650 I hadde it nevere half so hote as now;

And ay the more that desir me biteth

To love hire best, the more it me deliteth.

"I not myself naught wisly what it is,

But now I feele a newe qualitee --

Yee, al another than I dide er this."

Pandare answerd, and seyde thus, that "he

That ones may in hevene blisse be,

He feleth other weyes, dar I leye,

Than thilke tyme he first herde of it seye."

1660 This is o word for al: this Troilus

Was nevere ful to speke of this matere,

And for to preisen unto Pandarus

The bounte of his righte lady deere,

And Pandarus to thanke and maken cheere.

This tale ay was span-newe to bygynne,

Til that the nyght departed hem atwynne.

Soon after this, for that Fortune it wolde,

Icomen was the blisful tyme swete

That Troilus was warned that he sholde,

1670 There he was erst, Criseyde his lady mete,

For which he felte his herte in joie flete

And feithfully gan alle the goddes herie.

And lat se now if that he kan be merie!

And holden was the forme and al the wise

Of hire commyng, and of his also,

As it was erst, which nedeth nought devyse.

But pleynly to th' effect right for to go:

In joie and suerte Pandarus hem two

Abedde brought, whan that hem bothe leste,

1680 And thus they ben in quyete and in reste.

Nought nedeth it to yow, syn they ben met,

To axe at me if that they blithe were;

For if it erst was wel, tho was it bet

A thousand fold; this nedeth nought enquere.

Ago was every sorwe and every feere;

And bothe, ywys, they hadde, and so they wende,

As muche joie as herte may comprende.

This is no litel thyng of for to seye;

This passeth every wit for to devyse;

1690 For ech of hem gan otheres lust obeye.

Felicite, which that thise clerkes wise

Comenden so, ne may nought here suffise;

This joie may nought writen be with inke;

This passeth al that herte may bythynke.

But cruel day -- so wailaway the stounde! --

Gan for t' aproche, as they by sygnes knewe,

For which hem thoughte feelen dethis wownde.

So wo was hem that chaungen gan hire hewe,

And day they gonnen to despise al newe,

1700 Callyng it traitour, envyous, and worse,

And bitterly the dayes light thei corse.

Quod Troilus, "Allas, now am I war

That Piros and tho swifte steedes thre,

Which that drawen forth the sonnes char,

Han gon som bi-path in dispit of me;

That maketh it so soone day to be;

And for the sonne hym hasteth thus to rise,

Ne shal I nevere don hire sacrifise."

But nedes day departe hem moste soone,

1710 And whan hire speche don was and hire cheere,

They twynne anon, as they were wont to doone,

And setten tyme of metyng eft yfeere;

And many a nyght they wroughte in this manere,

And thus Fortune a tyme ledde in joie

Criseyde and ek this kynges sone of Troie.

In suffisaunce, in blisse, and in singynges,

This Troilus gan al his lif to lede.

He spendeth, jousteth, maketh festeynges;

He yeveth frely ofte, and chaungeth wede,

1720 And held aboute hym alwey, out of drede,

A world of folk, as com hym wel of kynde,

The fresshest and the beste he koude fynde;

That swich a vois was of hym and a stevene,

Thorughout the world, of honour and largesse,

That it up rong unto the yate of hevene;

And, as in love, he was in swich gladnesse

That in his herte he demed, as I gesse,

That ther nys lovere in this world at ese

So wel as he; and thus gan love hym plese.

1730 The goodlihede or beaute which that kynde

In any other lady hadde yset

Kan nought the montance of a knotte unbynde

Aboute his herte of al Criseydes net.

He was so narwe ymasked and yknet,

That it undon on any manere syde,

That nyl naught ben, for aught that may bitide.

And by the hond ful ofte he wolde take

This Pandarus, and into gardyn lede,

And swich a feste and swich a proces make

1740 Hym of Criseyde, and of hire wommanhede,

And of hire beaute, that withouten drede

It was an hevene his wordes for to here;

And thanne he wolde synge in this manere:

"Love, that of erthe and se hath governaunce,

Love, that his hestes hath in hevene hye,

Love, that with an holsom alliaunce

Halt peples joyned, as hym lest hem gye,

Love, that knetteth lawe of compaignie,

And couples doth in vertu for to dwelle,

1750 Bynd this acord, that I have told and telle.

"That, that the world with feith which that is stable

Diverseth so his stowndes concordynge,

That elementz that ben so discordable

Holden a bond perpetuely durynge,

That Phebus mote his rosy day forth brynge,

And that the mone hath lordshipe over the nyghtes:

Al this doth Love, ay heried be his myghtes! --

"That, that the se, that gredy is to flowen,

Constreyneth to a certeyn ende so

1760 His flodes that so fiersly they ne growen

To drenchen erthe and al for evere mo;

And if that Love aught lete his bridel go,

Al that now loveth asondre sholde lepe,

And lost were al that Love halt now to-hepe.

"So wolde God, that auctour is of kynde,

That with his bond Love of his vertu liste

To cerclen hertes alle and faste bynde,

That from his bond no wight the wey out wiste;

And hertes colde, hem wolde I that he twiste

1770 To make hem love, and that hem liste ay rewe

On hertes sore, and kepe hem that ben trewe!"

In alle nedes for the townes werre

He was, and ay, the first in armes dyght,

And certeynly, but if that bokes erre,

Save Ector most ydred of any wight;

And this encrees of hardynesse and myght

Com hym of love, his ladies thank to wynne,

That altered his spirit so withinne.

In tyme of trewe, on haukyng wolde he ride,

1780 Or elles honte boor, beer, or lyoun;

The smale bestes leet he gon biside.

And whan that he com ridyng into town,

Ful ofte his lady from hire wyndow down,

As fressh as faukoun comen out of muwe,

Ful redy was hym goodly to saluwe.

And moost of love and vertu was his speche,

And in despit hadde alle wrecchednesse;

And douteles, no nede was hym biseche

To honouren hem that hadde worthynesse,

1790 And esen hem that weren in destresse;

And glad was he if any wyght wel ferde,

That lovere was, whan he it wiste or herde.

For soth to seyne, he lost held every wyght,

But if he were in Loves heigh servise --

I mene folk that oughte it ben of right.

And over al this, so wel koude he devyse

Of sentement and in so unkouth wise

Al his array, that every lovere thoughte

That al was wel, what so he seyde or wroughte.

1800 And though that he be come of blood roial,

Hym liste of pride at no wight for to chace;

Benigne he was to ech in general,

For which he gat hym thank in every place.

Thus wolde Love -- yheried be his grace! --

That Pride, Envye, Ire, and Avarice

He gan to fle, and everich other vice.

Thow lady bryght, the doughter to Dyone,

Thy blynde and wynged sone ek, daun Cupide,

Yee sustren nyne ek, that by Elicone

1810 In hil Pernaso listen for t' abide,

That ye thus fer han deyned me to gyde --

I kan namore, but syn that ye wol wende,

Ye heried ben for ay withouten ende!

Thorugh yow have I seyd fully in my song

Th' effect and joie of Troilus servise,

Al be that ther was som disese among,

As to myn auctour listeth to devise.

My thridde bok now ende ich in this wyse,

And Troilus in lust and in quiete

1820 Is with Criseyde, his owen herte swete.

BOOK 4

But al to litel, weylaway the whyle,

Lasteth swich joie, ythonked be Fortune,

That semeth trewest whan she wol bygyle

And kan to fooles so hire song entune

That she hem hent and blent, traitour comune!

And whan a wight is from hire whiel ythrowe,

Than laugheth she, and maketh hym the mowe.

From Troilus she gan hire brighte face

Awey to writhe, and tok of hym non heede,

10 But caste hym clene out of his lady grace,

And on hire whiel she sette up Diomede;

For which myn herte right now gynneth blede,

And now my penne, allas, with which I write,

Quaketh for drede of that I moste endite.

For how Criseyde Troilus forsook --

Or at the leeste, how that she was unkynde --

Moot hennesforth ben matere of my book,

As writen folk thorugh which it is in mynde.

Allas, that they sholde evere cause fynde

20 To speke hire harm! And if they on hire lye,

Iwis, hemself sholde han the vilanye.

O ye Herynes, Nyghtes doughtren thre,

That endeles compleignen evere in pyne,

Megera, Alete, and ek Thesiphone,

Thow cruel Mars ek, fader to Quyryne,

This ilke ferthe book me helpeth fyne,

So that the losse of lyf and love yfeere

Of Troilus be fully shewed heere.

Liggyng in oost, as I have seyd er this,

30 The Grekys stronge aboute Troie town,

Byfel that, whan that Phebus shynyng is

Upon the brest of Hercules lyoun,

That Ector, with ful many a bold baroun,

Caste on a day with Grekis for to fighte,

As he was wont, to greve hem what he myghte.

Not I how longe or short it was bitwene

This purpos and that day they issen mente,

But on a day, wel armed, brighte, and shene,

Ector and many a worthi wight out wente,

40 With spere in honde and bigge bowes bente;

And in the berd, withouten lenger lette,

Hire fomen in the feld hem faste mette.

The longe day, with speres sharpe igrounde,

With arwes, dartes, swerdes, maces felle,

They fighte and bringen hors and man to grounde,

And with hire axes out the braynes quelle.

But in the laste shour, soth for to telle,

The folk of Troie hemselven so mysledden

That with the worse at nyght homward they fledden.

50 At which day was taken Antenore,

Maugre Polydamas or Monesteo,

Santippe, Sarpedoun, Polynestore,

Polite, or ek the Trojan daun Rupheo,

And other lasse folk as Phebuseo;

So that, for harm, that day the folk of Troie

Dredden to lese a gret part of hire joie.

Of Priamus was yeve, at Grek requeste,

A tyme of trewe, and tho they gonnen trete

Hire prisoners to chaungen, meste and leste,

60 And for the surplus yeven sommes grete.

This thing anon was couth in every strete,

Bothe in th' assege, in town, and everywhere,

And with the firste it com to Calkas ere.

Whan Calkas knew this tretis sholde holde,

In consistorie among the Grekes soone

He gan in thringe forth with lordes olde,

And sette hym there as he was wont to doone;

And with a chaunged face hem bad a boone,

For love of God, to don that reverence,

70 To stynte noyse and yeve hym audience.

Than seyde he thus: "Lo, lordes myn, ich was

Troian, as it is knowen out of drede;

And, if that yow remembre, I am Calkas,

That alderfirst yaf comfort to youre nede,

And tolde wel how that ye shulden spede.

For dredeles, thorugh yow shal in a stownde

Ben Troie ybrend and beten down to grownde.

"And in what forme, or in what manere wise,

This town to shende, and al youre lust t' acheve,

80 Ye han er this wel herd me yow devyse;

This knowe ye, my lordes, as I leve.

And for the Grekis weren me so leeve,

I com myself, in my propre persone,

To teche in this how yow was best to doone.

"Havyng unto my tresor ne my rente

Right no resport, to respect of youre ese,

Thus al my good I lefte and to yow wente,

Wenyng in this yow lordes for to plese.

But al that los ne doth me no disese.

90 I vouchesauf, as wisly have I joie,

For yow to lese al that I have in Troie,

"Save of a doughter that I lefte, allas,

Slepyng at hom, whanne out of Troie I sterte.

O sterne, O cruel fader that I was!

How myghte I have in that so hard an herte?

Allas, I ne hadde ibrought hire in hire sherte!

For sorwe of which I wol nought lyve to-morwe,

But if ye lordes rewe upon my sorwe.

"For by that cause I say no tyme er now

100 Hire to delivere, ich holden have my pees;

But now or nevere, if that it like yow,

I may hire have right soone, douteles.

O help and grace amonges al this prees!

Rewe on this olde caytyf in destresse,

Syn I thorugh yow have al this hevynesse.

"Ye have now kaught and fetered in prisoun

Troians ynowe, and if youre willes be,

My child with oon may han redempcioun;

Now for the love of God and of bounte,

110 Oon of so fele, allas, so yive hym me!

What nede were it this preiere for to werne,

Syn ye shul bothe han folk and town as yerne?

"On peril of my lif, I shal nat lye;

Appollo hath me told it feithfully;

I have ek founde it be astronomye,

By sort, and by augurye ek, trewely,

And dar wel say, the tyme is faste by

That fire and flaumbe on al the town shal sprede,

And thus shal Troie torne to asshen dede.

120 "For certein, Phebus and Neptunus bothe,

That makeden the walles of the town,

Ben with the folk of Troie alwey so wrothe

That they wol brynge it to confusioun,

Right in despit of kyng Lameadoun;

Bycause he nolde payen hem here hire,

The town of Troie shal ben set on-fire."

Tellyng his tale alwey, this olde greye,

Humble in his speche and in his lokyng eke,

The salte teris from his eyen tweye

130 Ful faste ronnen down by either cheke.

So longe he gan of socour hem biseke

That, for to hele hym of his sorwes soore,

They yave hym Antenor, withouten moore.

But who was glad ynough but Calkas tho?

And of this thyng ful soone his nedes leyde

On hem that sholden for the tretis go,

And hem for Antenor ful ofte preyde

To bryngen hom kyng Toas and Criseyde.

And whan Priam his save-garde sente,

140 Th' embassadours to Troie streight they wente.

The cause itold of hire comyng, the olde

Priam, the kyng, ful soone in general

Let her-upon his parlement to holde,

Of which th' effect rehercen yow I shal.

Th' embassadours ben answerd for fynal;

Th' eschaunge of prisoners and al this nede

Hem liketh wel, and forth in they procede.

This Troilus was present in the place

Whan axed was for Antenor Criseyde,

150 For which ful soone chaungen gan his face,

As he that with tho wordes wel neigh deyde.

But natheles he no word to it seyde,

Lest men sholde his affeccioun espye;

With mannes herte he gan his sorwes drye,

And ful of angwissh and of grisly drede

Abod what lordes wolde unto it seye;

And if they wolde graunte -- as God forbede --

Th' eschaunge of hire, than thoughte he thynges tweye:

First, how to save hire honour, and what weye

160 He myghte best th' eschaunge of hire withstonde.

Ful faste he caste how al this myghte stonde.

Love hym made al prest to don hire byde,

And rather dyen than she sholde go;

But Resoun seyde hym, on that other syde,

"Withouten assent of hire ne do nat so,

Lest for thi werk she wolde be thy fo,

And seyn that thorugh thy medlynge is iblowe

Youre bother love, ther it was erst unknowe."

For which he gan deliberen, for the beste,

170 That though the lordes wolde that she wente,

He wolde lat hem graunte what hem leste,

And telle his lady first what that they mente;

And whan that she hadde seyd hym hire entente,

Therafter wolde he werken also blyve,

Theigh al the world ayeyn it wolde stryve.

Ector, which that wel the Grekis herde,

For Antenor how they wolde han Criseyde,

Gan it withstonde, and sobrely answerde:

"Syres, she nys no prisonere," he seyde;

180 "I not on yow who that this charge leyde,

But, on my part, ye may eftsone hem telle,

We usen here no wommen for to selle."

The noyse of peple up stirte thanne at ones,

As breme as blase of straw iset on-fire;

For infortune it wolde, for the nones,

They sholden hire confusioun desire.

"Ector," quod they, "what goost may yow enspyre

This womman thus to shilde and don us leese

Daun Antenor -- a wrong wey now ye chese --

190 "That is so wys and ek so bold baroun?

And we han nede to folk, as men may se.

He is ek oon the grettest of this town.

O Ector, lat tho fantasies be!

O kyng Priam," quod they, "thus sygge we,

That al oure vois is to forgon Criseyde."

And to deliveren Antenor they preyde.

O Juvenal, lord, trewe is thy sentence,

That litel wyten folk what is to yerne,

That they ne fynde in hire desir offence;

200 For cloude of errour let hem to discerne

What best is. And lo, here ensample as yerne:

This folk desiren now deliveraunce

Of Antenor, that brought hem to meschaunce,

For he was after traitour to the town

Of Troye. Allas, they quytte hym out to rathe!

O nyce world, lo, thy discrecioun!

Criseyde, which that nevere dide hem scathe,

Shal now no lenger in hire blisse bathe;

But Antenor, he shal com hom to towne,

210 And she shal out; thus seyden here and howne.

For which delibered was by parlement

For Antenor to yelden out Criseyde,

And it pronounced by the president,

Altheigh that Ector "nay" ful ofte preyde.

And fynaly, what wight that it withseyde,

It was for nought; it moste ben and sholde,

For substaunce of the parlement it wolde.

Departed out of parlement echone,

This Troilus, withouten wordes mo,

220 Unto his chambre spedde hym faste allone,

But if it were a man of his or two

The which he bad out faste for to go

Bycause he wolde slepen, as he seyde,

And hastily upon his bed hym leyde.

And as in wynter leves ben biraft,

Ech after other, til the tree be bare,

So that ther nys but bark and braunche ilaft,

Lith Troilus, byraft of ech welfare,

Ibounden in the blake bark of care,

230 Disposed wood out of his wit to breyde,

So sore hym sat the chaungynge of Criseyde.

He rist hym up, and every dore he shette,

And wyndow ek, and tho this sorwful man

Upon his beddes syde adown hym sette,

Ful lik a ded ymage, pale and wan;

And in his brest the heped wo bygan

Out breste, and he to werken in this wise

In his woodnesse, as I shal yow devyse.

Right as the wylde bole bygynneth sprynge,

240 Now her, now ther, idarted to the herte,

And of his deth roreth in compleynynge,

Right so gan he aboute the chaumbre sterte,

Smytyng his brest ay with his fistes smerte;

His hed to the wal, his body to the grounde

Ful ofte he swapte, hymselven to confounde.

His eyen two, for piete of herte,

Out stremeden as swifte welles tweye;

The heighe sobbes of his sorwes smerte

His speche hym refte; unnethes myghte he seye,

250 "O deth, allas, why nyltow do me deye?

Acorsed be that day which that Nature

Shop me to ben a lyves creature!"

But after, whan the furie and al the rage,

Which that his herte twiste and faste threste,

By lengthe of tyme somwhat gan aswage,

Upon his bed he leyde hym down to reste.

But tho bygonne his teeris more out breste,

That wonder is the body may suffise

To half this wo which that I yow devyse.

260 Than seyde he thus: "Fortune, allas the while!

What have I don? What have I thus agylt?

How myghtestow for rowthe me bygile?

Is ther no grace, and shal I thus be spilt?

Shal thus Creiseyde awey, for that thow wilt?

Allas, how maistow in thyn herte fynde

To ben to me thus cruwel and unkynde?

"Have I the nought honoured al my lyve,

As thow wel woost, above the goddes alle?

Whi wiltow me fro joie thus deprive?

270 O Troilus, what may men now the calle

But wrecche of wrecches, out of honour falle

Into miserie, in which I wol bewaille

Criseyde -- allas! -- til that the breth me faille?

"Allas, Fortune, if that my lif in joie

Displesed hadde unto thi foule envye,

Why ne haddestow my fader, kyng of Troye,

Byraft the lif, or don my bretheren dye,

Or slayn myself, that thus compleyne and crye --

I, combre-world, that may of nothyng serve,

280 But evere dye and nevere fulli sterve.

"If that Criseyde allone were me laft,

Nought roughte I whiderward thow woldest me steere;

And hire, allas, than hastow me biraft.

But everemore, lo, this is thi manere,

To reve a wight that most is to hym deere,

To preve in that thi gerful violence.

Thus am I lost; ther helpeth no diffence.

"O verrey lord, O Love! O god, allas!

That knowest best myn herte and al my thought,

290 What shal my sorwful lif don in this cas,

If I forgo that I so deere have bought?

Syn ye Criseyde and me han fully brought

Into youre grace, and bothe oure hertes seled,

How may ye suffre, allas, it be repeled?

"What shal I don? I shal, while I may dure

On lyve in torment and in cruwel peyne

This infortune or this disaventure,

Allone as I was born, iwys, compleyne;

Ne nevere wol I seen it shyne or reyne,

300 But ende I wol, as Edippe, in derknesse

My sorwful lif, and dyen in distresse.

"O wery goost, that errest to and fro,

Why nyltow fleen out of the wofulleste

Body that evere myghte on grounde go?

O soule, lurkynge in this wo, unneste,

Fle forth out of myn herte, and lat it breste,

And folowe alwey Criseyde, thi lady dere.

Thi righte place is now no lenger here.

"O woful eyen two, syn youre disport

310 Was al to sen Criseydes eyen brighte,

What shal ye don but, for my discomfort,

Stonden for naught, and wepen out youre sighte,

Syn she is queynt that wont was yow to lighte?

In vayn fro this forth have ich eyen tweye

Ifourmed, syn youre vertu is aweye.

"O my Criseyde, O lady sovereigne

Of thilke woful soule that thus crieth,

Who shal now yeven comfort to my peyne?

Allas, no wight. But whan myn herte dieth,

320 My spirit, which that so unto yow hieth,

Receyve in gree, for that shal ay yow serve;

Forthi no fors is, though the body sterve.

"O ye loveris, that heigh upon the whiel

Ben set of Fortune, in good aventure,

God leve that ye fynde ay love of stiel,

And longe mote youre lif in joie endure!

But whan ye comen by my sepulture,

Remembreth that youre felawe resteth there;

For I loved ek, though ich unworthi were.

330 "O oold, unholsom, and myslyved man --

Calkas I mene -- allas, what eiled the

To ben a Grek, syn thow art born Troian?

O Calkas, which that wolt my bane be,

In corsed tyme was thow born for me!

As wolde blisful Jove, for his joie,

That I the hadde wher I wolde, in Troie!"

A thousand sikes, hotter than the gleede,

Out of his brest ech after other wente,

Medled with pleyntes new, his wo to feede,

340 For which his woful teris nevere stente;

And shortly, so his peynes hym torente,

And wex so mat, that joie nor penaunce

He feleth non, but lith forth in a traunce.

Pandare, which that in the parlement

Hadde herd what every lord and burgeys seyde,

And how ful graunted was by oon assent

For Antenor to yelden so Criseyde,

Gan wel neigh wood out of his wit to breyde,

So that for wo he nyste what he mente,

350 But in a rees to Troilus he wente.

A certeyn knyght that for the tyme kepte

The chambre door undide it hym anon;

And Pandare, that ful tendreliche wepte,

Into the derke chambre, as stille as ston,

Toward the bed gan softely to gon,

So confus that he nyste what to seye;

For verray wo his wit was neigh aweye.

And with his chiere and lokyng al totorn

For sorwe of this, and with his armes folden,

360 He stood this woful Troilus byforn,

And on his pitous face he gan byholden.

But Lord, so ofte gan his herte colden,

Seyng his frend in wo, whos hevynesse

His herte slough, as thoughte hym, for destresse.

This woful wight, this Troilus, that felte

His frend Pandare ycomen hym to se,

Gan as the snow ayeyn the sonne melte;

For which this sorwful Pandare, of pitee,

Gan for to wepe as tendreliche as he;

370 And specheles thus ben thise ilke tweye,

That neither myghte o word for sorwe seye.

But at the laste this woful Troilus,

Neigh ded for smert, gan bresten out to rore,

And with a sorwful noise he seyde thus,

Among hise sobbes and his sikes sore:

"Lo, Pandare, I am ded, withouten more.

Hastow nat herd at parlement," he seyde,

"For Antenor how lost is my Criseyde?"

This Pandarus, ful ded and pale of hewe,

380 Ful pitously answerde and seyde, "Yis!

As wisly were it fals as it is trewe,

That I have herd, and woot al how it is.

O mercy, God, who wolde have trowed this?

Who wolde have wend that in so litel a throwe

Fortune oure joie wold han overthrowe?

"For in this world ther is no creature,

As to my dom, that ever saugh ruyne

Straunger than this, thorugh cas or aventure.

But who may al eschue, or al devyne?

390 Swich is this world! Forthi I thus diffyne:

Ne trust no wight to fynden in Fortune

Ay propretee; hire yiftes ben comune.

"But telle me this: whi thow art now so mad

To sorwen thus? Whi listow in this wise,

Syn thi desir al holly hastow had,

So that, by right, it oughte ynough suffise?

But I, that nevere felte in my servyse

A frendly cheere or lokyng of an eye,

Lat me thus wepe and wailen til I deye.

400 "And over al this, as thow wel woost thiselve,

This town is ful of ladys al aboute;

And, to my doom, fairer than swiche twelve

As evere she was, shal I fynde in som route --

Yee, on or two, withouten any doute.

Forthi be glad, myn owen deere brother!

If she be lost, we shal recovere an other.

"What! God forbede alwey that ech plesaunce

In o thyng were and in non other wight!

If oon kan synge, an other kan wel daunce;

410 If this be goodly, she is glad and light;

And this is fair, and that kan good aright.

Ech for his vertu holden is for deere,

Both heroner and faucoun for ryvere.

"And ek, as writ Zanzis, that was ful wys,

`The newe love out chaceth ofte the olde';

And upon newe cas lith newe avys.

Thenk ek, thi lif to saven artow holde.

Swich fir, by proces, shal of kynde colde,

For syn it is but casuel plesaunce,

420 Som cas shal putte it out of remembraunce;

"For also seur as day comth after nyght,

The newe love, labour, or oother wo,

Or elles selde seynge of a wight,

Don olde affecciouns alle over-go.

And, for thi part, thow shalt have oon of tho

T' abregge with thi bittre peynes smerte;

Absence of hire shal dryve hire out of herte."

Thise wordes seyde he for the nones alle,

To help his frend, lest he for sorwe deyde;

430 For douteles, to don his wo to falle,

He roughte nought what unthrift that he seyde.

But Troilus, that neigh for sorwe deyde,

Took litel heede of al that evere he mente --

Oon ere it herde, at tother out it wente --

But at the laste answerde, and seyde, "Frend,

This lechecraft, or heeled thus to be,

Were wel sittyng, if that I were a fend --

To traysen a wight that trewe is unto me!

I pray God lat this conseil nevere ythe;

440 But do me rather sterve anon-right here,

Er I thus do as thow me woldest leere!

"She that I serve, iwis, what so thow seye,

To whom myn herte enhabit is by right,

Shal han me holly hires til that I deye.

For Pandarus, syn I have trouthe hire hight,

I wol nat ben untrewe for no wight,

But as hire man I wol ay lyve and sterve,

And nevere other creature serve.

"And ther thow seist thow shalt as faire fynde

450 As she, lat be; make no comparisoun

To creature yformed here by kynde!

O leve Pandare, in conclusioun,

I wol nat ben of thyn opynyoun

Touchyng al this. For which I the biseche,

So hold thi pees; thow sleest me with thi speche!

"Thow biddest me I shulde love another

Al fresshly newe, and lat Criseyde go!

It lith nat in my power, leeve brother;

And though I myght, I wolde nat do so.

460 But kanstow playen raket, to and fro,

Nettle in, dok out, now this, now that, Pandare?

Now foule falle hire for thi wo that care!

"Thow farest ek by me, thow Pandarus,

As he that, whan a wight is wo bygon,

He cometh to hym a paas and seith right thus:

`Thynk nat on smert, and thow shalt fele non.'

Thow moost me first transmewen in a ston,

And reve me my passiones alle,

Er thow so lightly do my wo to falle.

470 "The deth may wel out of my brest departe

The lif, so longe may this sorwe myne,

But fro my soule shal Criseydes darte

Out nevere mo; but down with Proserpyne,

Whan I am ded, I wol go wone in pyne,

And ther I wol eternaly compleyne

My wo, and how that twynned be we tweyne.

"Thow hast here made an argument for fyn,

How that it sholde a lasse peyne be

Criseyde to forgon, for she was myn

480 And lyved in ese and in felicite.

Whi gabbestow, that seydest unto me

That `hym is wors that is fro wele ythrowe,

Than he hadde erst noon of that wele yknowe'?

"But tel me now, syn that the thynketh so light

To changen so in love ay to and fro,

Whi hastow nat don bisily thi myght

To chaungen hire that doth the al thi wo?

Why nyltow lete hire fro thyn herte go?

Whi nyltow love an other lady swete,

490 That may thyn herte setten in quiete?

"If thou hast had in love ay yet myschaunce

And kanst it not out of thyn herte dryve,

I, that levede yn lust and in plesaunce

With here, as muche as creature on lyve,

How sholde I that foryete, and that so blyve?

O, where hastow ben hid so longe in muwe,

That kanst so wel and formely arguwe?

"Nay, God wot, nought worth is al thi red,

For which, for what that evere may byfalle,

500 Withouten wordes mo, I wol be ded.

O deth, that endere art of sorwes alle,

Com now, syn I so ofte after the calle;

For sely is that deth, soth for to seyne,

That, ofte ycleped, cometh and endeth peyne.

"Wel wot I, whil my lyf was in quyete,

Er thow me slowe, I wolde have yeven hire;

But now thi comynge is to me so swete

That in this world I nothing so desire.

O deth, syn with this sorwe I am a-fyre,

510 Thou other do me anoon yn teris drenche,

Or with thi colde strok myn hete quenche.

"Syn that thou sleest so fele in sondry wyse

Ayens hire wil, unpreyed, day and nyght,

Do me at my requeste this service:

Delyvere now the world -- so dostow right --

Of me, that am the wofulleste wyght

That evere was; for tyme is that I sterve,

Syn in this world of right nought may I serve."

This Troylus in teris gan distille,

520 As licour out of a lambyc ful faste;

And Pandarus gan holde his tunge stille,

And to the ground his eyen doun he caste.

But natheles, thus thought he at the laste:

"What! Parde, rather than my felawe deye,

Yet shal I somwhat more unto hym seye."

And seyde, "Frend, syn thow hast swych distresse,

And syn the list myn argumentz to blame,

Why nylt thiselven helpen don redresse

And with thy manhod letten al this grame?

530 Go ravysshe here! Ne kanstow nat, for shame?

And other lat here out of towne fare,

Or hold here stille, and leve thi nyce fare.

"Artow in Troie, and hast non hardyment

To take a womman which that loveth the

And wolde hireselven ben of thyn assent?

Now is nat this a nyce vanitee?

Ris up anon, and lat this wepyng be,

And kith thow art a man; for in this houre

I wol ben ded, or she shal bleven oure."

540 To this answerde hym Troilus ful softe,

And seyde, "Parde, leve brother deere,

Al this have I myself yet thought ful ofte,

And more thyng than thow devysest here.

But whi this thyng is laft, thow shalt wel here;

And whan thow me hast yeve an audience,

Therafter maystow telle al thi sentence.

"First, syn thow woost this town hath al this werre

For ravysshyng of wommen so by myght,

It sholde nought be suffred me to erre,

550 As it stant now, ne don so gret unright.

I sholde han also blame of every wight,

My fadres graunt if that I so withstoode,

Syn she is chaunged for the townes goode.

"I have ek thought, so it were hire assent,

To axe hire at my fader, of his grace;

Than thynke I this were hire accusement,

Syn wel I woot I may hire nought purchace;

For syn my fader, in so heigh a place

As parlement hath hire eschaunge enseled,

560 He nyl for me his lettre be repeled.

"Yet drede I moost hire herte to perturbe

With violence, if I do swich a game;

For if I wolde it openly desturbe,

It mooste be disclaundre to hire name.

And me were levere ded than hire diffame --

As nolde God but if I sholde have

Hire honour levere than my lif to save!

"Thus am I lost, for aught that I kan see.

For certeyn is, syn that I am hire knyght,

570 I moste hire honour levere han than me

In every cas, as lovere ought of right.

Thus am I with desir and reson twight:

Desir for to destourben hire me redeth,

And reson nyl nat; so myn herte dredeth."

Thus wepyng that he koude nevere cesse,

He seyde, "Allas, how shal I, wrecche, fare?

For wel fele I alwey my love encresse,

And hope is lasse and lasse alway, Pandare.

Encressen ek the causes of my care.

580 So weilaway, whi nyl myn herte breste?

For, as in love, ther is but litel reste."

Pandare answerde, "Frend, thow maist, for me,

Don as the list; but hadde ich it so hoote,

And thyn estat, she sholde go with me,

Though al this town cride on this thyng by note.

I nolde sette at al that noys a grote!

For whan men han wel cryd, than wol they rowne;

Ek wonder last but nyne nyght nevere in towne.

"Devyne not in resoun ay so depe

590 Ne preciously, but help thiself anon.

Bet is that othere than thiselven wepe,

And namely, syn ye two ben al on,

Ris up, for by myn hed, she shal not goon!

And rather be in blame a lite ifounde

Than sterve here as a gnat, withouten wounde.

"It is no rape, in my dom, ne no vice,

Hire to witholden that ye love moost;

Peraunter she myghte holde the for nyce

To late hire go thus unto the Grekis oost.

600 Thenk ek Fortune, as wel thiselven woost,

Helpeth hardy man unto his enprise,

And weyveth wrecches for hire cowardise.

"And though thy lady wolde a lite hire greve,

Thow shalt thiself thi pees hereafter make;

But as for me, certeyn, I kan nat leve

That she wolde it as now for yvel take.

Whi sholde thanne of ferd thyn herte quake?

Thenk ek how Paris hath, that is thi brother,

A love; and whi shaltow nat have another?

610 "And Troilus, o thyng I dar the swere:

That if Criseyde, which that is thi lief,

Now loveth the as wel as thow dost here,

God help me so, she nyl nat take a-grief,

Theigh thow do boote anon in this meschief;

And if she wilneth fro the for to passe,

Thanne is she fals; so love hire wel the lasse.

"Forthi tak herte, and thynk right as a knyght:

Thorugh love is broken al day every lawe.

Kith now somwhat thi corage and thi myght;

620 Have mercy on thiself for any awe.

Lat nat this wrecched wo thyn herte gnawe,

But manly sette the world on six and sevene;

And if thow deye a martyr, go to hevene!

"I wol myself ben with the at this dede,

Theigh ich and al my kyn upon a stownde

Shulle in a strete as dogges liggen dede,

Thorugh-girt with many a wid and blody wownde;

In every cas I wol a frend be founde.

And if the list here sterven as a wrecche,

630 Adieu, the devel spede hym that it recche!"

This Troilus gan with tho wordes quyken,

And seyde, "Frend, graunt mercy, ich assente.

But certeynly thow maist nat so me priken,

Ne peyne non ne may me so tormente,

That, for no cas, it is nat myn entente,

At shorte wordes, though I deyen sholde,

To ravysshe hire, but if hireself it wolde."

"Whi, so mene I," quod Pandare, "al this day.

But telle me thanne, hastow hire wil assayed,

640 That sorwest thus?" And he answerde hym, "Nay."

"Wherof artow," quod Pandare, "thanne amayed,

That nost nat that she wol ben yvele appayed

To ravysshe hire, syn thow hast nought ben there,

But if that Jove told it in thyn ere?

"Forthi ris up, as nought ne were, anon,

And wassh thi face, and to the kyng thow wende,

Or he may wondren whider thow art goon.

Thow most with wisdom hym and othere blende,

Or, upon cas, he may after the sende

650 Er thow be war; and shortly, brother deere,

Be glad, and lat me werke in this matere,

"For I shal shape it so, that sikerly

Thow shalt this nyght som tyme, in som manere,

Come speken with thi lady pryvely,

And by hire wordes ek, and by hire cheere,

Thow shalt ful sone aperceyve and wel here

Al hire entente, and in this cas the beste.

And far now wel, for in this point I reste."

The swifte Fame, which that false thynges

660 Egal reporteth lik the thynges trewe,

Was thorughout Troie yfled with preste wynges

Fro man to man, and made this tale al newe,

How Calkas doughter, with hire brighte hewe,

At parlement, withouten wordes more,

Ygraunted was in chaunge of Antenore.

The whiche tale anon-right as Criseyde

Hadde herd, she, which that of hire fader roughte,

As in this cas, right nought, ne whan he deyde,

Ful bisily to Jupiter bisoughte

670 Yeve hem meschaunce that this tretis broughte;

But shortly, lest thise tales sothe were,

She dorst at no wight asken it, for fere.

As she that hadde hire herte and al hire mynde

On Troilus iset so wonder faste

That al this world ne myghte hire love unbynde,

Ne Troilus out of hire herte caste,

She wol ben his, while that hire lif may laste.

And thus she brenneth both in love and drede,

So that she nyste what was best to reede.

680 But as men seen in towne and al aboute

That wommen usen frendes to visite,

So to Criseyde of wommen com a route,

For pitous joie, and wenden hire delite;

And with hire tales, deere ynough a myte,

Thise wommen, which that in the cite dwelle,

They sette hem down and seyde as I shall telle.

Quod first that oon, "I am glad, trewely,

Bycause of yow, that shal youre fader see."

Another seyde, "Ywis, so nam nat I,

690 For al to litel hath she with us be."

Quod tho the thridde, "I hope, ywis, that she

Shal bryngen us the pees on every syde,

That, whan she goth, almyghty God hire gide!"

Tho wordes and tho wommanysshe thynges,

She herde hem right as though she thennes were;

For God it woot, hire herte on othir thyng is.

Although the body sat among hem there,

Hire advertence is alwey elleswhere,

For Troilus ful faste hire soule soughte;

700 Withouten word, on hym alwey she thoughte.

Thise wommen, that thus wenden hire to plese,

Aboute naught gonne alle hire tales spende.

Swich vanyte ne kan don hire non ese,

As she that al this mene while brende

Of other passioun than that they wende,

So that she felte almost hire herte dye

For wo and wery of that compaignie.

For which no lenger myghte she restreyne

Hir teeris, so they gonnen up to welle,

710 That yaven signes of the bittre peyne

In which hir spirit was, and moste dwelle,

Remembryng hir, fro heven into which helle

She fallen was, syn she forgoth the syghte

Of Troilus, and sorwfully she sighte.

And thilke fooles sittynge hire aboute

Wenden that she wepte and siked sore

Bycause that she sholde out of that route

Departe, and nevere pleye with hem more.

And they that hadde yknowen hire of yore

720 Seigh hire so wepe and thoughte it kyndenesse,

And ech of hem wepte ek for hire destresse.

And bisyly they gonnen hire comforten

Of thyng, God woot, on which she litel thoughte;

And with hire tales wenden hire disporten,

And to be glad they often hire bysoughte;

But swich an ese therwith they hire wroughte,

Right as a man is esed for to feele

For ache of hed to clawen hym on his heele!

But after al this nyce vanyte

730 They toke hire leve, and hom they wenten alle.

Criseyde, ful of sorwful piete,

Into hire chambre up went out of the halle,

And on hire bed she gan for ded to falle,

In purpos nevere thennes for to rise;

And thus she wroughte, as I shal yow devyse.

Hire ownded heer, that sonnyssh was of hewe,

She rente, and ek hire fyngeres longe and smale

She wrong ful ofte, and bad God on hire rewe,

And with the deth to doon boote on hire bale.

740 Hire hewe, whilom bright, that tho was pale,

Bar witnesse of hire wo and hire constreynte;

And thus she spak, sobbyng in hire compleynte:

"Allas," quod she, "out of this regioun

I, woful wrecche and infortuned wight,

And born in corsed constellacioun,

Moot goon and thus departen fro my knyght!

Wo worth, allas, that ilke dayes light

On which I saugh hym first with eyen tweyne,

That causeth me, and ich hym, al this peyne!"

750 Therwith the teris from hire eyen two

Down fille, as shour in Aperil ful swithe;

Hire white brest she bet, and for the wo

After the deth she cryed a thousand sithe,

Syn he that wont hire wo was for to lithe

She moot forgon; for which disaventure

She held hireself a forlost creature.

She seyde, "How shal he don, and ich also?

How sholde I lyve if that I from hym twynne?

O deere herte eke, that I love so,

760 Who shal that sorwe slen that ye ben inne?

O Calkas, fader, thyn be al this synne!

O moder myn, that cleped were Argyve,

Wo worth that day that thow me bere on lyve!

"To what fyn sholde I lyve and sorwen thus?

How sholde a fissh withouten water dure?

What is Criseyde worth, from Troilus?

How sholde a plaunte or lyves creature

Lyve withouten his kynde noriture?

For which ful ofte a by-word here I seye,

770 That `rooteles moot grene soone deye.'

"I shal doon thus -- syn neither swerd ne darte

Dar I noon handle, for the crueltee --

That ilke day that I from yow departe,

If sorwe of that nyl nat my bane be:

Thanne shal no mete or drynke come in me

Til I my soule out of my breste unshethe,

And thus myselven wol I don to dethe.

"And, Troilus, my clothes everychon

Shul blake ben in tokenyng, herte swete,

780 That I am as out of this world agon,

That wont was yow to setten in quiete;

And of myn ordre, ay til deth me mete,

The observance evere, in youre absence,

Shal sorwe ben, compleynt, and abstinence.

"Myn herte and ek the woful goost therinne

Byqueth. I with youre spirit to compleyne

Eternaly, for they shal nevere twynne;

For though in erthe ytwynned be we tweyne,

Yet in the feld of pite, out of peyne,

790 That highte Elisos, shal we ben yfeere,

As Orpheus and Erudice, his fere.

"Thus, herte myn, for Antenor, allas,

I soone shal be chaunged, as I wene.

But how shul ye don in this sorwful cas?

How shal youre tendre herte this sustene?

But, herte myn, foryete this sorwe and tene,

And me also; for sothly for to seye,

So ye wel fare, I recche naught to deye."

How myghte it evere yred ben or ysonge,

800 The pleynte that she made in hire destresse?

I not; but, as for me, my litel tonge,

If I discryven wolde hire hevynesse,

It sholde make hire sorwe seme lesse

Than that it was, and childisshly deface

Hire heigh compleynte, and therfore ich it pace.

Pandare, which that sent from Troilus

Was to Criseyde -- as ye han herd devyse

That for the beste it was acorded thus,

And he ful glad to doon hym that servyse --

810 Unto Criseyde, in a ful secree wise,

Ther as she lay in torment and in rage,

Com hire to telle al hoolly his message,

And fond that she hireselven gan to trete

Ful pitously, for with hire salte teris

Hire brest, hire face, ybathed was ful wete;

The myghty tresses of hire sonnysshe heeris

Unbroiden hangen al aboute hire eeris,

Which yaf hym verray signal of martire

Of deth, which that hire herte gan desire.

820 Whan she hym saugh, she gan for shame anon

Hire tery face atwixe hire armes hide;

For which this Pandare is so wo-bygon

That in the hous he myghte unnethe abyde,

As he that pite felt on every syde;

For if Criseyde hadde erst compleyned soore,

Tho gan she pleyne a thousand tymes more.

And in hire aspre pleynte thus she seyde:

"Pandare first of joies mo than two

Was cause causyng unto me, Criseyde,

830 That now transmewed ben in cruel wo.

Wher shal I seye to yow welcom or no,

That alderfirst me broughte unto servyse

Of love -- allas! -- that endeth in swich wise?

"Endeth than love in wo? Ye, or men lieth,

And alle worldly blisse, as thynketh me.

The ende of blisse ay sorwe it occupieth.

And whoso troweth nat that it so be,

Lat hym upon me, woful wrecche, ysee,

That myself hate and ay my burthe acorse,

840 Felyng alwey fro wikke I go to worse.

"Whoso me seeth, he seeth sorwe al atonys --

Peyne, torment, pleynte, wo, distresse!

Out of my woful body harm ther noon is,

As angwissh, langour, cruel bitternesse,

Anoy, smert, drede, fury, and ek siknesse.

I trowe, ywys, from hevene teeris reyne

For pite of myn aspre and cruel peyne."

"And thow, my suster, ful of discomfort,"

Quod Pandarus, "what thynkestow to do?

850 Whi ne hastow to thyselven som resport?

Whi wiltow thus thiself, allas, fordo?

Leef al this werk, and tak now heede to

That I shal seyn; and herkne of good entente

This which by me thi Troilus the sente."

Tornede hire tho Criseyde, a wo makynge

So gret that it a deth was for to see.

"Allas," quod she, "what wordes may ye brynge?

What wol my deere herte seyn to me,

Which that I drede nevere mo to see?

860 Wol he han pleynte or teris er I wende?

I have ynough, if he therafter sende!"

She was right swich to seen in hire visage

As is that wight that men on beere bynde;

Hire face, lik of Paradys the ymage,

Was al ychaunged in another kynde.

The pleye, the laughter, men was wont to fynde

On hire, and ek hire joies everichone,

Ben fled; and thus lith now Criseyde allone.

Aboute hire eyen two a purpre ryng

870 Bytrent, in sothfast tokenyng of hire peyne,

That to biholde it was a dedly thyng;

For which Pandare myghte nat restreyne

The teeris from his eighen for to reyne;

But natheles, as he best myghte, he seyde

From Troilus thise wordes to Criseyde:

"Lo, nece, I trowe ye han herd al how

The kyng with othere lordes, for the beste,

Hath mad eschaunge of Antenor and yow,

That cause is of this sorwe and this unreste.

880 But how this cas dooth Troilus moleste,

That may non erthly mannes tonge seye --

As he that shortly shapith hym to deye.

"For which we han so sorwed, he and I,

That into litel bothe it hadde us slawe;

But thorugh my conseyl this day finaly

He somwhat is fro wepynge now withdrawe,

And semeth me that he desireth fawe

With yow to ben al nyght, for to devyse

Remedie in this, if ther were any wyse.

890 "This, short and pleyn, th' effect of my message,

As ferforth as my wit kan comprehende,

For ye that ben of torment in swich rage

May to no long prologe as now entende.

And hereupon ye may answere hym sende;

And for the love of God, my nece deere,

So lef this wo er Troilus be here!"

"Gret is my wo," quod she, and sighte soore

As she that feleth dedly sharp distresse;

"But yit to me his sorwe is muchel more,

900 That love hym bet than he hymself, I gesse.

Allas, for me hath he swich hevynesse?

Kan he for me so pitously compleyne?

Iwis, his sorwe doubleth al my peyne.

"Grevous to me, God woot, is for to twynne,"

Quod she, "but yet it harder is to me

To sen that sorwe which that he is inne;

For wel I woot it wol my bane be,

And deye I wol in certeyn," tho quod she;

"But bid hym come, er deth, that thus me threteth,

910 Dryve out that goost which in myn herte beteth."

Thise wordes seyd, she on hire armes two

Fil gruf, and gan to wepen pitously.

Quod Pandarus, "Allas, whi do ye so,

Syn wel ye woot the tyme is faste by

That he shal come? Aris up hastily,

That he yow nat bywopen thus ne fynde,

But ye wole have hym wood out of his mynde.

"For wiste he that ye ferde in this manere,

He wolde hymselven sle; and if I wende

920 To han this fare, he sholde nat come here

For al the good that Priam may dispende.

For to what fyn he wolde anon pretende,

That knowe ich wel; and forthi yet I seye:

So lef this sorwe, or platly he wol deye.

"And shapeth yow his sorwe for t' abregge,

And nought encresse, leeve nece swete!

Beth rather to hym cause of flat than egge,

And with som wisdom ye his sorwe bete.

What helpeth it to wepen ful a strete,

930 Or though ye bothe in salte teeris dreynte?

Bet is a tyme of cure ay than of pleynte.

"I mene thus: whan ich hym hider brynge,

Syn ye be wise and bothe of oon assent,

So shapeth how destourbe youre goynge,

Or come ayeyn soon after ye be went.

Women ben wise in short avysement;

And lat sen how youre wit shal now availle,

And that that I may helpe, it shal nat faille."

"Go," quod Criseyde, "and uncle, trewely,

940 I shal don al my myght me to restreyne

From wepyng in his sighte, and bisily

Hym for to glade I shal don al my peyne,

And in myn herte seken every veyne.

If to his sore ther may be fonden salve,

It shal nat lakke, certeyn, on my halve."

Goth Pandarus, and Troilus he soughte

Til in a temple he fond hym al allone,

As he that of his lif no lenger roughte;

But to the pitouse goddes everichone

950 Ful tendrely he preyde and made his mone,

To doon hym sone out of this world to pace,

For wel he thoughte ther was non other grace.

And shortly, al the sothe for to seye,

He was so fallen in despeir that day,

That outrely he shop hym for to deye.

For right thus was his argument alway:

He seyde he nas but lorn, weylaway!

"For al that comth, comth by necessitee:

Thus to ben lorn, it is my destinee.

960 "For certeynly, this wot I wel," he seyde,

"That forsight of divine purveyaunce

Hath seyn alwey me to forgon Criseyde,

Syn God seeth every thyng, out of doutaunce,

And hem disponyth, thorugh his ordinaunce,

In hire merites sothly for to be,

As they shul comen by predestyne.

"But natheles, allas, whom shal I leeve?

For ther ben grete clerkes many oon

That destyne thorugh argumentes preve;

970 And som men seyn that nedely ther is noon,

But that fre chois is yeven us everychon.

O, welaway! So sleighe arn clerkes olde

That I not whos opynyoun I may holde.

"For som men seyn, if God seth al biforn --

Ne God may nat deceyved ben, parde --

Than moot it fallen, theigh men hadde it sworn,

That purveiance hath seyn before to be.

Wherfore I sey, that from eterne if he

Hath wist byforn oure thought ek as oure dede,

980 We han no fre chois, as thise clerkes rede.

"For other thought, nor other dede also,

Myghte nevere ben, but swich as purveyaunce,

Which may nat ben deceyved nevere mo,

Hath feled byforn, withouten ignoraunce.

For yf ther myghte ben a variaunce

To writhen out fro Goddis purveyinge,

Ther nere no prescience of thyng comynge,

"But it were rather an opynyoun

Uncerteyn, and no stedfast forseynge;

990 And certes, that were an abusioun,

That God sholde han no parfit cler wytynge

More than we men that han doutous wenynge.

But swich an errour upon God to gesse

Were fals and foul, and wikked corsednesse.

"Ek this is an opynyoun of some

That han hire top ful heighe and smothe yshore:

They seyn right thus, that thyng is nat to come

For that the prescience hath seyn byfore

That it shal come; but they seyn that therfore

1000 That it shal come, therfore the purveyaunce

Woot it byforn, withouten ignoraunce;

"And in this manere this necessite

Retorneth in his part contrarie agayn.

For nedfully byhoveth it nat to bee

That thilke thynges fallen in certayn

That ben purveyed; but nedly, as they sayn,

Byhoveth it that thynges whiche that falle,

That they in certayn ben purveyed alle.

"I mene as though I laboured me in this

1010 To enqueren which thyng cause of which thyng be:

As wheither that the prescience of God is

The certeyn cause of the necessite

Of thynges that to comen ben, parde,

Or if necessite of thyng comynge

Be cause certeyn of the purveyinge.

"But now n' enforce I me nat in shewynge

How the ordre of causes stant; but wel woot I

That it byhoveth that the byfallynge

Of thynges wist byfore certeynly

1020 Be necessarie, al seme it nat therby

That prescience put fallynge necessaire

To thyng to come, al falle it foule or faire.

"For if ther sitte a man yond on a see,

Than by necessite bihoveth it

That, certes, thyn opynyoun sooth be

That wenest or conjectest that he sit.

And further over now ayeynward yit,

Lo, right so is it of the part contrarie,

As thus -- now herkne, for I wol nat tarie:

1030 "I sey that if the opynyoun of the

Be soth, for that he sitte, than sey I this:

That he mot sitten by necessite;

And thus necessite in eyther is.

For in hym, nede of sittynge is, ywys,

And in the, nede of soth; and thus, forsothe,

There mot necessite ben in yow bothe.

"But thow mayst seyn, the man sit nat therfore

That thyn opynyoun of his sittynge soth is,

But rather, for the man sit ther byfore,

1040 Therfore is thyn opynyoun soth, ywis.

And I seye, though the cause of soth of this

Comth of his sittyng, yet necessite

Is entrechaunged, both in hym and the.

"Thus in this same wise, out of doutaunce,

I may wel maken, as it semeth me,

My resonyng of Goddes purveyaunce

And of the thynges that to comen be;

By which resoun men may wel yse

That thilke thynges that in erthe falle,

1050 That by necessite they comen alle.

"For although that for thyng shal come, ywys,

Therfore is it purveyed, certeynly --

Nat that it comth for it purveyed is --

Yet natheles, bihoveth it nedfully

That thing to come be purveyd, trewely,

Or elles, thynges that purveyed be,

That they bitiden by necessite.

"And this suffiseth right ynough, certeyn,

For to destruye oure fre chois every del.

1060 But now is this abusioun, to seyn

That fallyng of the thynges temporel

Is cause of Goddes prescience eternel.

Now trewely, that is a fals sentence,

That thyng to come sholde cause his prescience.

"What myght I wene, and I hadde swich a thought,

But that God purveyeth thyng that is to come

For that it is to come, and ellis nought?

So myghte I wene that thynges alle and some

That whilom ben byfalle and overcome

1070 Ben cause of thilke sovereyne purveyaunce

That forwoot al withouten ignoraunce.

"And over al this, yet sey I more herto:

That right as whan I wot ther is a thyng,

Iwys, that thyng moot nedfully be so;

Ek right so, whan I woot a thyng comyng,

So mot it come; and thus the bifallyng

Of thynges that ben wist bifore the tyde,

They mowe nat ben eschued on no syde."

Thanne seyde he thus: "Almyghty Jove in trone,

1080 That woost of al thys thyng the sothfastnesse,

Rewe on my sorwe: or do me deyen sone,

Or bryng Criseyde and me fro this destresse!"

And whil he was in al this hevynesse,

Disputyng with hymself in this matere,

Com Pandare in, and seyde as ye may here:

"O myghty God," quod Pandarus, "in trone,

I! Who say evere a wis man faren so?

Whi, Troilus, what thinkestow to doone?

Hastow swich lust to ben thyn owen fo?

1090 What, parde, yet is nat Criseyde ago!

Whi list the so thiself fordoon for drede

That in thyn hed thyne eyen semen dede?

"Hastow nat lyved many a yer byforn

Withouten hire, and ferd ful wel at ese?

Artow for hire and for noon other born?

Hath Kynde the wrought al only hire to plese?

Lat be, and thynk right thus in thi disese:

That, in the dees right as ther fallen chaunces,

Right so in love ther come and gon plesaunces.

1100 "And yet this is a wonder most of alle,

Whi thow thus sorwest, syn thow nost nat yit,

Touchyng hire goyng, how that it shal falle,

Ne yif she kan hireself destourben it.

Thow hast nat yet assayed al hire wit.

A man may al bytyme his nekke beede

Whan it shal of, and sorwen at the nede.

"Forthi tak hede of that that I shal seye:

I have with hire yspoke and longe ybe,

So as acorded was bitwixe us tweye;

1110 And evere mor me thynketh thus, that she

Hath somwhat in hire hertes privete

Wherwith she kan, if I shal right arede,

Destourbe al this of which thow art in drede.

"For which my counseil is, whan it is nyght

Thow to hire go and make of this an ende;

And blisful Juno thorugh hire grete myght

Shal, as I hope, hire grace unto us sende.

Myn herte seyth, `Certeyn, she shal nat wende.'

And forthi put thyn herte a while in reste,

1120 And hold this purpos, for it is the beste."

This Troilus answerd, and sighte soore:

"Thow seist right wel, and I wol don right so."

And what hym liste, he seyde unto it more.

And whan that it was tyme for to go,

Ful pryvely hymself, withouten mo,

Unto hire com, as he was wont to doone;

And how they wroughte, I shal yow tellen soone.

Soth is, that whan they gonnen first to mete,

So gan the peyne hire hertes for to twiste

1130 That neyther of hem other myghte grete,

But hem in armes toke, and after kiste.

The lasse woful of hem bothe nyste

Wher that he was, ne myghte o word out brynge,

As I seyde erst, for wo and for sobbynge.

The woful teeris that they leten falle

As bittre weren, out of teris kynde,

For peyne, as is ligne aloes or galle --

So bittre teeris weep nought, as I fynde,

The woful Mirra thorugh the bark and rynde --

1140 That in this world ther nys so hard an herte

That nolde han rewed on hire peynes smerte.

But whan hire woful weri goostes tweyne

Retourned ben ther as hem oughte dwelle,

And that somwhat to wayken gan the peyne

By lengthe of pleynte, and ebben gan the welle

Of hire teeris, and the herte unswelle,

With broken vois, al hoors forshright, Criseyde

To Troilus thise ilke wordes seyde:

"O Jove, I deye, and mercy I beseche!

1150 Help, Troilus!" And therwithal hire face

Upon his brest she leyde and loste speche --

Hire woful spirit from his propre place,

Right with the word, alwey o poynt to pace.

And thus she lith with hewes pale and grene,

That whilom fressh and fairest was to sene.

This Troilus, that on hire gan biholde,

Clepyng hire name -- and she lay as for ded --

Without answere, and felte hire lymes colde,

Hire eyen throwen upward to hire hed,

1160 This sorwful man kan now noon other red,

But ofte tyme hire colde mowth he kiste.

Wher hym was wo, God and hymself it wiste!

He rist hym up, and long streght he hire leyde;

For signe of lif, for aught he kan or may,

Kan he non fynde in nothyng on Criseyde,

For which his song ful ofte is "weylaway!"

But whan he saugh that specheles she lay,

With sorweful vois and herte of blisse al bare,

He seyde how she was fro this world yfare.

1170 So after that he longe hadde hire compleyned,

His hondes wrong, and seyd that was to seye,

And with his teeris salt hire brest byreyned,

He gan tho teeris wypen of ful dreye,

And pitously gan for the soule preye,

And seyde, "O Lord, that set art in thi trone,

Rewe ek on me, for I shal folwe hire sone!"

She cold was, and withouten sentement

For aught he woot, for breth ne felte he non,

And this was hym a pregnant argument

1180 That she was forth out of this world agon.

And whan he say ther was non other woon,

He gan hire lymes dresse in swich manere

As men don hem that shal ben layd on beere.

And after this, with sterne and cruel herte,

His swerd anon out of his shethe he twighte

Hymself to slen, how sore that hym smerte,

So that his soule hire soule folwen myghte

Ther as the doom of Mynos wolde it dighte,

Syn Love and cruel Fortune it ne wolde

1190 That in this world he lenger lyven sholde.

Than seyde he thus, fulfild of heigh desdayn:

"O cruel Jove, and thow, Fortune adverse,

This al and som: that falsly have ye slayn

Criseyde, and syn ye may do me no werse,

Fy on youre myght and werkes so dyverse!

Thus cowardly ye shul me nevere wynne;

Ther shal no deth me fro my lady twynne.

"For I this world, syn ye have slayn hire thus,

Wol lete and folwe hire spirit low or hye.

1200 Shal nevere lovere seyn that Troilus

Dar nat for fere with his lady dye;

For certeyn I wol beere hire compaignie.

But syn ye wol nat suffre us lyven here,

Yet suffreth that oure soules ben yfere.

"And thow, cite, which that I leve in wo,

And thow, Priam, and bretheren alle yfeere,

And thow, my moder, farwel, for I go;

And Atropos, make redy thow my beere;

And thow, Criseyde, o swete herte deere,

1210 Receyve now my spirit!" wolde he seye,

With swerd at herte, al redy for to deye.

But as God wolde, of swough therwith sh' abreyde,

And gan to sike, and "Troilus" she cride;

And he answerde, "Lady myn, Criseyde,

Lyve ye yet?" and leet his swerd down glide.

"Ye, herte myn, that thonked be Cipride!"

Quod she; and therwithal she soore syghte,

And he bigan conforte hire as he myghte,

Took hire in armes two, and kiste hire ofte,

1220 And hire to glade he did al his entente;

For which hire goost, that flikered ay o-lofte,

Into hire woful herte ayeyn it wente.

But at the laste, as that hire eye glente

Asyde, anon she gan his swerd espie,

As it lay bare, and gan for fere crye,

And asked hym, whi he it hadde out drawe.

And Troilus anon the cause hire tolde,

And how hymself therwith he wolde han slawe;

For which Criseyde upon hym gan biholde,

1230 And gan hym in hire armes faste folde,

And seyde, "O mercy, God! Lo, which a dede!

Allas, how neigh we weren bothe dede!

"Than if I nadde spoken, as grace was,

Ye wolde han slayn youreself anon?" quod she.

"Yee, douteles"; and she answerde, "Allas,

For by that ilke Lord that made me,

I nolde a forlong wey on lyve have be

After youre deth, to han ben crowned queene

Of al that lond the sonne on shyneth sheene.

1240 "But with this selve swerd, which that here is,

Myselve I wolde han slawe," quod she tho.

"But hoo, for we han right ynough of this,

And lat us rise, and streght to bedde go,

And there lat us speken of oure wo;

For, by the morter which that I se brenne,

Knowe I ful wel that day is nat far henne."

Whan they were in hire bed, in armes folde,

Naught was it lik tho nyghtes here-byforn.

For pitously ech other gan byholde,

1250 As they that hadden al hire blisse ylorn,

Bywaylinge ay the day that they were born;

Til at the laste this sorwful wight, Criseyde,

To Troilus thise ilke wordes seyde:

"Lo, herte myn, wel woot ye this," quod she,

"That if a wight alwey his wo compleyne

And seketh nought how holpen for to be,

It nys but folie and encrees of peyne;

And syn that here assembled be we tweyne

To fynde boote of wo that we ben inne,

1260 It were al tyme soone to bygynne.

"I am a womman, as ful wel ye woot,

And as I am avysed sodeynly,

So wol I telle yow, whil it is hoot.

Me thynketh thus: that nouther ye nor I

Ought half this wo to maken, skilfully;

For ther is art ynough for to redresse

That yet is mys, and slen this hevynesse.

"Soth is, the wo, the which that we ben inne,

For aught I woot, for nothyng ellis is

1270 But for the cause that we sholden twynne.

Considered al, ther nys namore amys.

But what is thanne a remede unto this,

But that we shape us soone for to meete?

This al and som, my deere herte sweete.

"Now, that I shal wel bryngen it aboute

To come ayeyn, soone after that I go,

Therof am I no manere thyng in doute;

For, dredeles, withinne a wowke or two

I shal ben here; and that it may be so

1280 By alle right and in a wordes fewe,

I shal yow wel an heep of weyes shewe.

"For which I wol nat make long sermoun --

For tyme ylost may nought recovered be --

But I wol gon to my conclusioun,

And to the beste, in aught that I kan see.

And for the love of God, foryeve it me

If I speke aught ayeyns youre hertes reste;

For trewely, I speke it for the beste,

"Makyng alwey a protestacioun

1290 That now thise wordes which that I shal seye

Nis but to shewen yow my mocioun

To fynde unto oure help the beste weye;

And taketh it non other wise, I preye,

For in effect, what so ye me comaunde,

That wol I don, for that is no demaunde.

"Now herkneth this: ye han wel understonde

My goyng graunted is by parlement

So ferforth that it may nat be withstonde

For al this world, as by my jugement.

1300 And syn ther helpeth non avisement

To letten it, lat it passe out of mynde,

And lat us shape a bettre wey to fynde.

"The soth is this: the twynnyng of us tweyne

Wol us disese and cruelich anoye,

But hym byhoveth somtyme han a peyne

That serveth Love, if that he wol have joye.

And syn I shal no ferther out of Troie

Than I may ride ayeyn on half a morwe,

It oughte lesse causen us to sorwe;

1310 "So as I shal not so ben hid in muwe,

That day by day, myn owne herte deere --

Syn wel ye woot that it is now a trewe --

Ye shal ful wel al myn estat yheere.

And er that trewe is doon, I shal ben heere;

And thanne have ye both Antenore ywonne

And me also. Beth glad now, if ye konne,

"And thenk right thus: `Criseyde is now agon.

But what, she shal come hastiliche ayeyn!'

And whanne, allas? By God, lo, right anon,

1320 Er dayes ten, this dar I saufly seyn.

And than at erste shal we be so feyn,

So as we shal togideres evere dwelle,

That al this world ne myghte oure blisse telle.

"I se that oft-tyme, there as we ben now,

That for the beste, oure counseyl for to hide,

Ye speke nat with me, nor I with yow

In fourtenyght, ne se yow go ne ride.

May ye naught ten dayes thanne abide,

For myn honour, in swich an aventure?

1330 Iwys, ye mowen ellis lite endure!

"Ye knowe ek how that al my kyn is heere,

But if that onliche it my fader be,

And ek myn othere thynges alle yfeere,

And nameliche, my deere herte, ye,

Whom that I nolde leven for to se

For al this world, as wyd as it hath space,

Or ellis se ich nevere Joves face!

"Whi trowe ye my fader in this wise

Coveyteth so to se me, but for drede

1340 Lest in this town that folkes me despise

Because of hym, for his unhappy dede?

What woot my fader what lif that I lede?

For if he wiste in Troie how wel I fare,

Us neded for my wendyng nought to care.

"Ye sen that every day ek, more and more,

Men trete of pees, and it supposid is

That men the queene Eleyne shal restore,

And Grekis us restoren that is mys;

So, though ther nere comfort non but this,

1350 That men purposen pees on every syde,

Ye may the bettre at ese of herte abyde.

"For if that it be pees, myn herte deere,

The nature of the pees moot nedes dryve

That men moost entrecomunen yfeere,

And to and fro ek ride and gon as blyve

Alday as thikke as been fleen from an hyve,

And every wight han liberte to bleve

Whereas hym liste the bet, withouten leve.

"And though so be that pees ther may be non,

1360 Yet hider, though ther nevere pees ne were,

I moste come; for whider sholde I gon,

Or how, meschaunce, sholde I dwelle there

Among tho men of armes evere in feere?

For which, as wisly God my soule rede,

I kan nat sen wherof ye sholden drede.

"Have here another wey, if it so be

That al this thyng ne may yow nat suffise:

My fader, as ye knowen wel, parde,

Is old, and elde is ful of coveytise,

1370 And I right now have founden al the gise,

Withouten net, wherwith I shal hym hente.

And herkeneth how, if that ye wol assente:

"Lo, Troilus, men seyn that hard it is

The wolf ful and the wether hool to have;

This is to seyn, that men ful ofte, iwys,

Mote spenden part the remenant for to save;

For ay with gold men may the herte grave

Of hym that set is upon coveytise;

And how I mene, I shal it yow devyse:

1380 "The moeble which that I have in this town

Unto my fader shal I take, and seye

That right for trust and for savacioun

It sent is from a frend of his or tweye,

The whiche frendes ferventliche hym preye

To senden after more, and that in hie,

Whil that this town stant thus in jupartie.

"And that shal ben an huge quantite --

Thus shal I seyn -- but lest it folk espide,

This may be sent by no wyght but by me.

1390 I shal ek shewen hym, yf pees bytyde,

What frendes that ich have on every syde

Toward the court, to don the wrathe pace

Of Priamus and don hym stonde in grace.

"So what for o thyng and for other, swete,

I shal hym so enchaunten with my sawes

That right in hevene his sowle is, shal he mete;

For al Appollo, or his clerkes lawes,

Or calkullynge, avayleth nought thre hawes;

Desir of gold shal so his soule blende

1400 That, as me lyst, I shal wel make an ende.

"And yf he wolde ought by hys sort it preve

If that I lye, in certayn I shal fonde

Distorben hym and plukke hym by the sleve,

Makynge his sort, and beren hym on honde

He hath not wel the goddes understonde;

For goddes speken in amphibologies,

And for o soth they tellen twenty lyes.

"Ek, `Drede fond first goddes, I suppose' --

Thus shal I seyn -- and that his coward herte

1410 Made hym amys the goddes text to glose,

Whan he for fered out of Delphos sterte.

And but I make hym soone to converte

And don my red withinne a day or tweye,

I wol to yow oblige me to deye."

And treweliche, as writen wel I fynde

That al this thyng was seyd of good entente,

And that hire herte trewe was and kynde

Towardes hym, and spak right as she mente,

And that she starf for wo neigh whan she wente,

1420 And was in purpos evere to be trewe:

Thus writen they that of hire werkes knewe.

This Troilus, with herte and erys spradde,

Herde al this thyng devysen to and fro,

And verrayliche him semed that he hadde

The selve wit; but yet to late hire go

His herte mysforyaf hym evere mo;

But fynaly, he gan his herte wreste

To trusten hire, and took it for the beste.

For which the grete furie of his penaunce

1430 Was queynt with hope, and therwith hem bitwene

Bigan for joie th' amorouse daunce;

And as the briddes, whanne the sonne is shene,

Deliten in hire song in leves grene,

Right so the wordes that they spake yfeere

Delited hem, and made hire hertes clere.

But natheles, the wendyng of Criseyde,

For al this world, may nat out of his mynde,

For which ful ofte he pitously hire preyde

That of hire heste he myghte hire trewe fynde,

1440 And seyde hire, "Certes, if ye be unkynde,

And but ye come at day set into Troye,

Ne shal I nevere have hele, honour, ne joye.

"For also soth as sonne uprist o-morwe --

And God so wisly thow me, woful wrecche,

To reste brynge out of this cruel sorwe! --

I wol myselven sle if that ye drecche.

But of my deeth though litel be to recche,

Yet, er that ye me causen so to smerte,

Dwelle rather here, myn owen swete herte.

1450 "For trewely, myn owne lady deere,

Tho sleghtes yet that I have herd yow stere

Ful shaply ben to faylen alle yfeere.

For thus men seyth `That on thenketh the beere,

But al another thenketh his ledere.'

Youre syre is wys; and seyd is, out of drede,

`Men may the wise atrenne, and naught atrede.'

"It is ful hard to halten unespied

Byfore a crepel, for he kan the craft;

Youre fader is in sleght as Argus eyed;

1460 For al be that his moeble is hym biraft,

His olde sleighte is yet so with hym laft

Ye shal nat blende hym for youre wommanhede,

Ne feyne aright; and that is al my drede.

"I not if pees shal evere mo bitide;

But pees or no, for ernest ne for game,

I woot, syn Calkas on the Grekis syde

Hath ones ben and lost so foule his name,

He dar nomore come here ayeyn for shame;

For which that wey, for aught I kan espie,

1470 To trusten on nys but a fantasie.

"Ye shal ek sen, youre fader shal yow glose

To ben a wif; and as he kan wel preche,

He shal som Grek so preyse and wel alose

That ravysshen he shal yow with his speche,

Or do yow don by force as he shal teche;

And Troilus, of whom ye nyl han routhe,

Shal causeles so sterven in his trouthe!

"And over al this, youre fader shal despise

Us alle, and seyn this cite nys but lorn,

1480 And that th' assege nevere shal aryse,

For-whi the Grekis han it alle sworn,

Til we be slayn and down oure walles torn.

And thus he shal yow with his wordes fere,

That ay drede I that ye wol bleven there.

"Ye shal ek seen so many a lusty knyght

Among the Grekis, ful of worthynesse,

And ech of hem with herte, wit, and myght

To plesen yow don al his bisynesse,

That ye shul dullen of the rudenesse

1490 Of us sely Troians, but if routhe

Remorde yow, or vertu of youre trouthe.

"And this to me so grevous is to thynke

That fro my brest it wol my soule rende;

Ne dredeles, in me ther may nat synke

A good opynyoun, if that ye wende,

For whi youre fadres sleghte wol us shende.

And if ye gon, as I have told yow yore,

So thenk I n' am but ded, withoute more.

"For which, with humble, trewe, and pitous herte,

1500 A thousand tymes mercy I yow preye;

So rueth on myn aspre peynes smerte,

And doth somwhat as that I shal yow seye,

And lat us stele awey bitwixe us tweye;

And thynk that folie is, whan man may chese,

For accident his substaunce ay to lese.

"I mene thus: that syn we mowe er day

Wel stele awey and ben togidere so,

What wit were it to putten in assay,

In cas ye sholden to youre fader go,

1510 If that ye myghten come ayeyn or no?

Thus mene I: that it were a gret folie

To putte that sikernesse in jupertie.

"And vulgarly to speken of substaunce

Of tresour, may we bothe with us lede

Inough to lyve in honour and plesaunce

Til into tyme that we shal ben dede;

And thus we may eschuen al this drede.

For everich other wey ye kan recorde,

Myn herte, ywys, may therwith naught acorde.

1520 "And hardily, ne dredeth no poverte,

For I have kyn and frendes elleswhere

That, though we comen in oure bare sherte,

Us sholde neyther lakken gold ne gere,

But ben honured while we dwelten there.

And go we anon; for as in myn entente,

This is the beste, if that ye wole assente."

Criseyde, with a sik, right in this wise

Answerde, "Ywys, my deere herte trewe,

We may wel stele awey, as ye devyse,

1530 And fynden swich unthrifty weyes newe,

But afterward ful soore it wol us rewe.

And helpe me God so at my mooste nede,

As causeles ye suffren al this drede!

"For thilke day that I for cherisynge

Or drede of fader, or for other wight,

Or for estat, delit, or for weddynge,

Be fals to yow, my Troilus, my knyght,

Saturnes doughter, Juno, thorugh hire myght,

As wood as Athamante do me dwelle

1540 Eternalich in Stix, the put of helle!

"And this on every god celestial

I swere it yow, and ek on ech goddesse,

On every nymphe and deite infernal,

On satiry and fawny more and lesse,

That halve goddes ben of wildernesse;

And Attropos my thred of lif tobreste

If I be fals! Now trowe me if yow leste!

"And thow, Symois, that as an arwe clere

Thorugh Troie rennest downward to the se,

1550 Ber witnesse of this word that seyd is here:

That thilke day that ich untrewe be

To Troilus, myn owene herte fre,

That thow retourne bakward to thi welle,

And I with body and soule synke in helle!

"But that ye speke, awey thus for to go

And leten alle youre frendes, God forbede

For any womman that ye sholden so,

And namely syn Troie hath now swich nede

Of help. And ek of o thyng taketh hede:

1560 If this were wist, my lif lay in balaunce,

And youre honour; God shilde us fro meschaunce!

"And if so be that pees heere-after take,

As alday happeth after anger game,

Whi, Lord, the sorwe and wo ye wolden make,

That ye ne dorste come ayeyn for shame!

And er that ye juparten so youre name,

Beth naught to hastif in this hoote fare,

For hastif man ne wanteth nevere care.

"What trowe ye the peple ek al aboute

1570 Wolde of it seye? It is ful light t' arede.

They wolden seye, and swere it out of doute,

That love ne drof yow naught to don this dede,

But lust voluptuous and coward drede.

Thus were al lost, ywys, myn herte deere,

Youre honour, which that now shyneth so clere.

"And also thynketh on myn honeste,

That floureth yet, how foule I sholde it shende,

And with what filthe it spotted sholde be,

If in this forme I sholde with yow wende.

1580 Ne though I lyved unto the werldes ende,

My name sholde I nevere ayeynward wynne;

Thus were I lost, and that were routhe and synne.

"And forthi sle with resoun al this hete!

Men seyn, `The suffrant overcomith,' parde;

Ek `Whoso wol han lief, he lief moot lete.'

Thus maketh vertu of necessite

By pacience, and thynk that lord is he

Of Fortune ay that naught wole of hire recche,

And she ne daunteth no wight but a wrecche.

1590 "And trusteth this: that certes, herte swete,

Er Phebus suster, Lucina the sheene,

The Leoun passe out of this Ariete,

I wol ben here, withouten any wene.

I mene, as helpe me Juno, hevenes quene,

The tenthe day, but if that deth m' assaile,

I wol yow sen withouten any faille."

"And now, so this be soth," quod Troilus,

"I shal wel suffre unto the tenthe day,

Syn that I se that nede it mot be thus.

1600 But for the love of God, if it be may,

So late us stelen priveliche away;

For evere in oon, as for to lyve in reste,

Myn herte seyth that it wol be the beste."

"O mercy, God, what lif is this?" quod she.

"Allas, ye sle me thus for verray tene!

I se wel now that ye mystrusten me,

For by youre wordes it is wel yseene.

Now for the love of Cinthia the sheene,

Mistrust me nought thus causeles, for routhe,

1610 Syn to be trewe I have yow plight my trouthe.

"And thynketh wel that somtyme it is wit

To spende a tyme, a tyme for to wynne;

Ne, parde, lorn am I naught fro yow yit,

Though that we ben a day or two atwynne.

Drif out the fantasies yow withinne,

And trusteth me, and leveth ek youre sorwe,

Or here my trouthe: I wol naught lyve tyl morwe.

"For if ye wiste how soore it doth me smerte,

Ye wolde cesse of this; for, God, thow wost,

1620 The pure spirit wepeth in myn herte

To se yow wepen that I love most,

And that I mot gon to the Grekis oost.

Ye, nere it that I wiste remedie

To come ayeyn, right here I wolde dye!

"But certes, I am naught so nyce a wight

That I ne kan ymaginen a wey

To come ayeyn that day that I have hight.

For who may holde a thing that wol awey?

My fader naught, for al his queynte pley!

1630 And by my thrift, my wendyng out of Troie

Another day shal torne us alle to joie.

"Forthi with al myn herte I yow biseke,

If that yow list don ought for my preyere,

And for that love which that I love yow eke,

That er that I departe fro yow here,

That of so good a confort and a cheere

I may yow sen that ye may brynge at reste

Myn herte, which that is o poynt to breste.

"And over al this I prey yow," quod she tho,

1640 "Myn owene hertes sothfast suffisaunce,

Syn I am thyn al hol, withouten mo,

That whil that I am absent, no plesaunce

Of oother do me fro youre remembraunce;

For I am evere agast, forwhy men rede

That love is thyng ay ful of bisy drede.

"For in this world ther lyveth lady non,

If that ye were untrewe -- as God defende! --

That so bitraised were or wo-bigon

As I, that alle trouthe in yow entende.

1650 And douteles, if that ich other wende,

I ner but ded; and er ye cause fynde,

For Goddes love, so beth me naught unkynde!"

To this answerde Troilus and seyde,

"Now God, to whom ther nys no cause ywrye,

Me glade, as wys I nevere unto Criseyde,

Syn thilke day I saugh hire first with ye,

Was fals, ne nevere shal til that I dye.

At shorte wordes, wel ye may me leve.

I kan na more; it shal be founde at preve."

1660 "Grant mercy, goode myn, iwys!" quod she,

"And blisful Venus lat me nevere sterve

Er I may stonde of plesaunce in degree

To quyte hym wel that so wel kan deserve;

And while that God my wit wol me conserve,

I shal so don, so trewe I have yow founde,

That ay honour to me-ward shal rebounde.

"For trusteth wel that youre estat roial,

Ne veyn delit, nor only worthinesse

Of yow in werre or torney marcial,

1670 Ne pompe, array, nobleye, or ek richesse

Ne made me to rewe on youre destresse,

But moral vertu, grounded upon trouthe --

That was the cause I first hadde on yow routhe!

"Eke gentil herte and manhod that ye hadde,

And that ye hadde, as me thoughte, in despit

Every thyng that souned into badde,

As rudenesse and poeplissh appetit,

And that youre resoun bridlede youre delit,

This made, aboven every creature,

1680 That I was youre, and shal while I may dure.

"And this may lengthe of yeres naught fordo,

Ne remuable Fortune deface.

But Juppiter, that of his myght may do

The sorwful to be glad, so yeve us grace

Or nyghtes ten to meten in this place,

So that it may youre herte and myn suffise!

And fareth now wel, for tyme is that ye rise."

And after that they longe ypleyned hadde,

And ofte ykist, and streite in armes folde,

1690 The day gan rise, and Troilus hym cladde,

And rewfullich his lady gan byholde,

As he that felte dethes cares colde,

And to hire grace he gan hym recomaunde.

Wher hym was wo, this holde I no demaunde.

For mannes hed ymagynen ne kan,

N' entendement considere, ne tonge telle

The cruele peynes of this sorwful man,

That passen every torment down in helle.

For whan he saugh that she ne myghte dwelle,

1700 Which that his soule out of his herte rente,

Withouten more out of the chaumbre he wente.

BOOK 5

Aprochen gan the fatal destyne

That Joves hath in disposicioun,

And to yow, angry Parcas, sustren thre,

Committeth to don execucioun;

For which Criseyde moste out of the town,

And Troilus shal dwellen forth in pyne

Til Lachesis his thred no lenger twyne.

The gold-tressed Phebus heighe on-lofte

Thries hadde alle with his bemes cleene

10 The snowes molte, and Zepherus as ofte

Ibrought ayeyn the tendre leves grene,

Syn that the sone of Ecuba the queene

Bigan to love hire first for whom his sorwe

Was al, that she departe sholde a-morwe.

Ful redy was at prime Diomede

Criseyde unto the Grekis oost to lede,

For sorwe of which she felt hire herte blede,

As she that nyste what was best to rede.

And trewely, as men in bokes rede,

20 Men wiste nevere womman han the care,

Ne was so loth out of a town to fare.

This Troilus, withouten reed or loore,

As man that hath his joies ek forlore,

Was waytyng on his lady evere more

As she that was the sothfast crop and more

Of al his lust or joies heretofore.

But Troilus, now far-wel al thi joie,

For shaltow nevere sen hire eft in Troie!

Soth is that while he bood in this manere,

30 He gan his wo ful manly for to hide,

That wel unnethe it sene was in his chere;

But at the yate ther she sholde out ride,

With certeyn folk he hoved hire t' abide,

So wo-bigon, al wolde he naught hym pleyne,

That on his hors unnethe he sat for peyne.

For ire he quook, so gan his herte gnawe,

Whan Diomede on horse gan hym dresse,

And seyde to hymself this ilke sawe:

"Allas," quod he, "thus foul a wrecchednesse,

40 Whi suffre ich it? Whi nyl ich it redresse?

Were it nat bet atones for to dye

Than evere more in langour thus to drye?

"Whi nyl I make atones riche and pore

To have inough to doone er that she go?

Why nyl I brynge al Troie upon a roore?

Whi nyl I slen this Diomede also?

Why nyl I rather with a man or two

Stele hire away? Whi wol I this endure?

Whi nyl I helpen to myn owen cure?"

50 But why he nolde don so fel a dede,

That shal I seyn, and whi hym liste it spare:

He hadde in herte alweyes a manere drede

Lest that Criseyde, in rumour of this fare,

Sholde han ben slayn; lo, this was al his care.

And ellis, certeyn, as I seyde yore,

He hadde it don, withouten wordes more.

Criseyde, whan she redy was to ride,

Ful sorwfully she sighte, and seyde "Allas!"

But forth she moot, for aught that may bitide;

60 Ther is non other remedie in this cas.

And forth she rit ful sorwfully a pas.

What wonder is, though that hire sore smerte,

Whan she forgoth hire owen swete herte?

This Troilus, in wise of curteysie,

With hauk on honde and with an huge route

Of knyghtes, rood and did hire companye,

Passyng al the valeye fer withoute,

And ferther wolde han riden, out of doute,

Ful fayn, and wo was hym to gon so sone;

70 But torne he moste, and it was ek to done.

And right with that was Antenor ycome

Out of the Grekis oost, and every wight

Was of it glad, and seyde he was welcome.

And Troilus, al nere his herte light,

He peyned hym with al his fulle myght

Hym to withholde of wepyng atte leeste,

And Antenor he kiste and made feste.

And therwithal he moste his leve take,

And caste his eye upon hire pitously,

80 And neer he rood, his cause for to make,

To take hire by the honde al sobrely.

And Lord, so she gan wepen tendrely!

And he ful softe and sleighly gan hire seye,

"Now holde youre day, and do me nat to deye."

With that his courser torned he aboute

With face pale, and unto Diomede

No word he spak, ne non of al his route;

Of which the sone of Tideus took hede,

As he that koude more than the crede

90 In swich a craft, and by the reyne hire hente;

And Troilus to Troie homward he wente.

This Diomede, that ledde hire by the bridel,

Whan that he saugh the folk of Troie aweye,

Thoughte, "Al my labour shal nat ben on ydel,

If that I may, for somwhat shal I seye,

For at the werste it may yet shorte oure weye.

I have herd seyd ek tymes twyes twelve,

`He is a fool that wol foryete hymselve.'"

But natheles, this thoughte he wel ynough,

100 That "Certeynlich I am aboute nought,

If that I speke of love or make it tough;

For douteles, if she have in hire thought

Hym that I gesse, he may nat ben ybrought

So soon awey; but I shal fynde a meene

That she naught wite as yet shal what I mene."

This Diomede, as he that koude his good,

Whan tyme was, gan fallen forth in speche

Of this and that, and axed whi she stood

In swich disese, and gan hire ek biseche

110 That if that he encresse myghte or eche

With any thyng hire ese, that she sholde

Comaunde it hym, and seyde he don it wolde.

For treweliche he swor hire as a knyght

That ther nas thyng with which he myghte hire plese,

That he nolde don his peyne and al his myght

To don it, for to don hire herte an ese;

And preyede hire she wolde hire sorwe apese,

And seyde, "Iwis, we Grekis kan have joie

To honouren yow as wel as folk of Troie."

120 He seyde ek thus: "I woot yow thynketh straunge --

Ne wonder is, for it is to yow newe --

Th' aquayntaunce of thise Troianis to chaunge

For folk of Grece, that ye nevere knewe.

But wolde nevere God but if as trewe

A Grek ye sholde among us alle fynde

As any Troian is, and ek as kynde.

"And by the cause I swor yow right, lo, now,

To ben youre frend, and helply, to my myght,

And for that more aquayntaunce ek of yow

130 Have ich had than another straunger wight,

So fro this forth, I pray yow, day and nyght

Comaundeth me, how soore that me smerte,

To don al that may like unto youre herte;

"And that ye me wolde as youre brother trete,

And taketh naught my frendshipe in despit;

And though youre sorwes be for thynges grete --

Not I nat whi -- but out of more respit

Myn herte hath for t' amende it gret delit;

And if I may youre harmes nat redresse,

140 I am right sory for youre hevynesse,

"For though ye Troians with us Grekes wrothe

Han many a day ben, alwey yet, parde,

O god of Love in soth we serven bothe.

And for the love of God, my lady fre,

Whomso ye hate, as beth nat wroth with me,

For trewely, ther kan no wyght yow serve

That half so loth youre wratthe wold disserve.

"And nere it that we ben so neigh the tente

Of Calcas, which that sen us bothe may,

150 I wolde of this yow telle al myn entente --

But this enseled til anothir day.

Yeve me youre hond; I am, and shal ben ay,

God helpe me so, while that my lyf may dure,

Youre owene aboven every creature.

"Thus seyde I nevere er now to womman born,

For God myn herte as wisly glade so,

I loved never womman here-biforn

As paramours, ne nevere shal no mo.

And for the love of God, beth nat my fo,

160 Al kan I naught to yow, my lady deere,

Compleyne aright, for I am yet to leere.

"And wondreth nought, myn owen lady bright,

Though that I speke of love to yow thus blyve;

For I have herd er this of many a wight,

Hath loved thyng he nevere saigh his lyve.

Ek I am nat of power for to stryve

Ayeyns the god of Love, but hym obeye

I wole alwey; and mercy I yow preye.

"Ther ben so worthi knyghtes in this place,

170 And ye so fayr, that everich of hem alle

Wol peynen hym to stonden in youre grace.

But myghte me so faire a grace falle,

That ye me for youre servant wolde calle,

So lowely ne so trewely yow serve

Nil non of hem as I shal til I sterve."

Criseyde unto that purpos lite answerde,

As she that was with sorwe oppressed so

That, in effect, she naught his tales herde

But here and ther, now here a word or two.

180 Hire thoughte hire sorwful herte brast a-two,

For whan she gan hire fader fer espie

Wel neigh down of hire hors she gan to sye.

But natheles she thonketh Diomede

Of al his travaile and his goode cheere,

And that hym list his frendshipe hire to bede;

And she accepteth it in good manere,

And wol do fayn that is hym lief and dere,

And tristen hym she wolde, and wel she myghte,

As seyde she; and from hire hors sh' alighte.

190 Hire fader hath hire in his armes nome,

And twenty tyme he kiste his doughter sweete,

And seyde, "O deere doughter myn, welcome!"

She seyde ek she was fayn with hym to mete,

And stood forth muwet, milde, and mansuete.

But here I leve hire with hire fader dwelle,

And forth I wol of Troilus yow telle.

To Troie is come this woful Troilus,

In sorwe aboven alle sorwes smerte,

With feloun look and face dispitous.

200 Tho sodeynly doun from his hors he sterte,

And thorugh his paleis, with a swollen herte,

To chaumbre he wente; of nothyng took he hede,

Ne non to hym dar speke a word for drede.

And ther his sorwes that he spared hadde

He yaf an issue large, and "Deth!" he criede;

And in his throwes frenetik and madde

He corseth Jove, Appollo, and ek Cupide;

He corseth Ceres, Bacus, and Cipride,

His burthe, hymself, his fate, and ek nature,

210 And, save his lady, every creature.

To bedde he goth, and walwith ther and torneth

In furie, as doth he Ixion in helle,

And in this wise he neigh til day sojorneth.

But tho bigan his herte a lite unswelle

Thorugh teris, which that gonnen up to welle,

And pitously he cryde upon Criseyde,

And to hymself right thus he spak, and seyde,

"Wher is myn owene lady, lief and deere?

Wher is hire white brest? Wher is it, where?

220 Wher ben hire armes and hire eyen cleere

That yesternyght this tyme with me were?

Now may I wepe allone many a teere,

And graspe aboute I may, but in this place,

Save a pilowe, I fynde naught t' enbrace.

"How shal I do? Whan shal she come ayeyn?

I not, allas, whi lete ich hire to go;

As wolde God ich hadde as tho ben sleyn!

O herte myn, Criseyde, O swete fo!

O lady myn, that I love and na mo,

230 To whom for evermo myn herte I dowe,

Se how I dey, ye nyl me nat rescowe!

"Who seth yow now, my righte lode-sterre?

Who sit right now or stant in youre presence?

Who kan conforten now youre hertes werre?

Now I am gon, whom yeve ye audience?

Who speketh for me right now in myn absence?

Allas, no wight; and that is al my care,

For wel woot I, as yvele as I ye fare.

"How sholde I thus ten dayes ful endure,

240 Whan I the firste nyght have al this tene?

How shal she don ek, sorwful creature?

For tendernesse, how shal she sustene

Swich wo for me? O pitous, pale, grene

Shal ben youre fresshe, wommanliche face

For langour, er ye torne unto this place."

And whan he fil in any slomberynges,

Anon bygynne he sholde for to grone

And dremen of the dredefulleste thynges

That myghte ben; as mete he were allone

250 In place horrible makyng ay his mone,

Or meten that he was amonges alle

His enemys, and in hire hondes falle.

And therwithal his body sholde sterte,

And with the stert al sodeynliche awake,

And swich a tremour fele aboute his herte

That of the fere his body sholde quake;

And therwithal he sholde a noyse make,

And seme as though he sholde falle depe

From heighe o-lofte; and thanne he wolde wepe,

260 And rewen on hymself so pitously

That wonder was to here his fantasie.

Another tyme he sholde myghtyly

Conforte hymself, and sein it was folie

So causeles swich drede for to drye;

And eft bygynne his aspre sorwes newe,

That every man myght on his sorwes rewe.

Who koude telle aright or ful discryve

His wo, his pleynt, his langour, and his pyne?

Naught alle the men that han or ben on lyve.

270 Thow, redere, maist thiself ful wel devyne

That swich a wo my wit kan nat diffyne;

On ydel for to write it sholde I swynke,

Whan that my wit is wery it to thynke.

On hevene yet the sterres weren seene,

Although ful pale ywoxen was the moone,

And whiten gan the orisonte shene

Al estward, as it wont is for to doone;

And Phebus with his rosy carte soone

Gan after that to dresse hym up to fare

280 Whan Troilus hath sent after Pandare.

This Pandare, that of al the day biforn

Ne myghte han comen Troilus to se,

Although he on his hed it hadde sworn --

For with the kyng Priam al day was he,

So that it lay nought in his libertee

Nowher to gon -- but on the morwe he wente

To Troilus, whan that he for hym sente.

For in his herte he koude wel devyne

That Troilus al nyght for sorwe wook;

290 And that he wolde telle hym of his pyne,

This knew he wel ynough, withoute book.

For which to chaumbre streght the wey he took,

And Troilus tho sobrelich he grette,

And on the bed ful sone he gan hym sette.

"My Pandarus," quod Troilus, "the sorwe

Which that I drye I may nat longe endure.

I trowe I shal nat lyven til to-morwe.

For which I wolde alweys, on aventure,

To the devysen of my sepulture

300 The forme; and of my moeble thow dispone

Right as the semeth best is for to done.

"But of the fir and flaumbe funeral

In which my body brennen shal to glede,

And of the feste and pleyes palestral

At my vigile, I prey the, tak good hede

That that be wel; and offre Mars my steede,

My swerd, myn helm; and, leve brother deere,

My sheld to Pallas yef, that shyneth cleere.

"The poudre in which myn herte ybrend shal torne,

310 That preye I the thow take and it conserve

In a vessell that men clepeth an urne,

Of gold, and to my lady that I serve,

For love of whom thus pitouslich I sterve,

So yeve it hire, and do me this plesaunce,

To preyen hire kepe it for a remembraunce.

"For wele I fele, by my maladie

And by my dremes now and yore ago,

Al certeynly that I mot nedes dye.

The owle ek, which that hette Escaphilo,

320 Hath after me shright al thise nyghtes two.

And god Mercurye, of me now, woful wrecche,

The soule gyde, and whan the liste, it fecche!"

Pandare answerde and seyde, "Troilus,

My deere frend, as I have told the yore,

That it is folye for to sorwen thus,

And causeles, for which I kan namore.

But whoso wil nought trowen reed ne loore,

I kan nat sen in hym no remedie,

But lat hym worthen with his fantasie.

330 "But, Troilus, I prey the, tel me now

If that thow trowe er this that any wight

Hath loved paramours as wel as thow?

Ye, God woot, and fro many a worthi knyght

Hath his lady gon a fourtenyght,

And he nat yet made halvendel the fare.

What nede is the to maken al this care?

"Syn day by day thow maist thiselven se

That from his love, or ellis from his wif,

A man mot twynnen of necessite --

340 Ye, though he love hire as his owene lif --

Yet nyl he with hymself thus maken strif.

For wel thou woost, my leve brother deere,

That alwey frendes may nat ben yfeere.

"How don this folk that seen hire loves wedded

By frendes myght, as it bitit ful ofte,

And sen hem in hire spouses bed ybedded?

God woot, they take it wisly, faire, and softe,

Forwhi good hope halt up hire herte o-lofte.

And for they kan a tyme of sorwe endure,

350 As tyme hem hurt, a tyme doth hem cure.

"So shuldestow endure, and laten slide

The tyme, and fonde to ben glad and light.

Ten dayes nys so longe nought t' abide.

And syn she the to comen hath bihyght,

She nyl hire heste breken for no wight.

For dred the nat that she nyl fynden weye

To come ayein; my lif that dorste I leye.

"Thi swevnes ek and al swich fantasie

Drif out and lat hem faren to meschaunce,

360 For they procede of thi malencolie

That doth the fele in slep al this penaunce.

A straw for alle swevenes signifiaunce!

God helpe me so, I counte hem nought a bene!

Ther woot no man aright what dremes mene.

"For prestes of the temple tellen this,

That dremes ben the revelaciouns

Of goddes, and as wel they telle, ywis,

That they ben infernals illusiouns;

And leches seyn that of complexiouns

370 Proceden they, or fast, or glotonye.

Who woot in soth thus what thei signifie?

"Ek oother seyn that thorugh impressiouns,

As if a wight hath faste a thyng in mynde,

That therof cometh swiche avysiouns;

And other seyn, as they in bokes fynde,

That after tymes of the yer, by kynde,

Men dreme, and that th' effect goth by the moone.

But leve no drem, for it is nought to doone.

"Wel worth. of dremes ay thise olde wives,

380 And treweliche ek augurye of thise fowles,

For fere of which men wenen lese here lyves,

As revenes qualm, or shrichyng of thise owles.

To trowen on it bothe fals and foul is.

Allas, allas, so noble a creature

As is a man shal dreden swich ordure!

"For which with al myn herte I the biseche,

Unto thiself that al this thow foryyve;

And ris now up withowten more speche,

And lat us caste how forth may best be dryve

390 This tyme, and ek how fresshly we may lyve

Whan that she comth, the which shal be right soone.

God helpe me so, the beste is thus to doone.

"Ris, lat us speke of lusty lif in Troie

That we han led, and forth the tyme dryve;

And ek of tyme comyng us rejoie,

That bryngen shal oure blisse now so blyve;

And langour of thise twyes dayes fyve

We shal therwith so foryete or oppresse

That wel unneth it don shal us duresse.

400 "This town is ful of lordes al aboute,

And trewes lasten al this mene while.

Go we pleye us in som lusty route

To Sarpedoun, nat hennes but a myle;

And thus thow shalt the tyme wel bygile,

And dryve it forth unto that blisful morwe

That thow hire se, that cause is of thi sorwe.

"Now ris, my deere brother Troilus,

For certes it non honour is to the

To wepe and in thi bedde to jouken thus;

410 For trewelich, of o thyng trust to me:

If thow thus ligge a day, or two, or thre,

The folk wol seyn that thow for cowardise

The feynest sik, and that thow darst nat rise!"

This Troilus answerde, "O brother deere,

This knowen folk that han ysuffred peyne,

That though he wepe and make sorwful cheere

That feleth harm and smert in every veyne,

No wonder is. and though ich evere pleyne,

Or alwey wepe, I am no thyng to blame,

420 Syn I have lost the cause of al my game.

"But syn of fyne force I mot arise,

I shal arise as soone as evere I may;

And God, to whom myn herte I sacrifice,

So sende us hastely the tenthe day!

For was ther nevere fowel so fayn of May

As I shal ben whan that she comth in Troie

That cause is of my torment and my joie.

"But whider is thi reed," quod Troilus,

"That we may pleye us best in al this town?"

430 "By God, my conseil is," quod Pandarus,

"To ride and pleye us with kyng Sarpedoun."

So longe of this they speken up and down

Til Troilus gan at the laste assente

To rise, and forth to Sarpedoun they wente.

This Sarpedoun, as he that honourable

Was evere his lyve, and ful of heigh largesse,

With al that myghte yserved ben on table

That deynte was, al coste it gret richesse,

He fedde hem day by day, that swich noblesse,

440 As seyden bothe the mooste and ek the leeste,

Was nevere er that day wist at any feste.

Nor in this world ther is non instrument

Delicious, thorugh wynd or touche of corde,

As fer as any wight hath evere ywent,

That tonge telle or herte may recorde,

That at that feste it nas wel herd acorde;

Ne of ladys ek so fair a compaignie

On daunce, er tho, was nevere iseye with ie.

But what availeth this to Troilus,

450 That for his sorwe nothyng of it roughte?

For evere in oon his herte pietous

Ful bisyly Criseyde, his lady, soughte.

On hire was evere al that his herte thoughte,

Now this, now that, so faste ymagenynge

That glade, iwis, kan hym no festeyinge.

Thise ladies ek that at this feste ben,

Syn that he saugh his lady was aweye,

It was his sorwe upon hem for to sen,

Or for to here on instrumentes pleye.

460 For she that of his herte berth the keye

Was absent, lo, this was his fantasie --

That no wight sholde maken melodie.

Nor ther nas houre in al the day or nyght,

Whan he was there as no wight myghte hym heere,

That he ne seyde, "O lufsom lady bryght,

How have ye faren syn that ye were here?

Welcome, ywis, myn owne lady deere!"

But weylaway, al this nat but a maze.

Fortune his howve entended bet to glaze!

470 The lettres ek that she of olde tyme

Hadde hym ysent, he wolde allone rede

An hondred sithe atwixen noon and prime,

Refiguryng hire shap, hire wommanhede,

Withinne his herte, and every word or dede

That passed was; and thus he drof t' an ende

The ferthe day, and seyde he wolde wende.

And seyde, "Leve brother Pandarus,

Intendestow that we shal here bleve

Til Sarpedoun wol forth congeyen us?

480 Yet were it fairer that we toke oure leve.

For Goddes love, lat us now soone at eve

Oure leve take, and homward lat us torne,

For treweliche, I nyl nat thus sojourne."

Pandare answerde, "Be we comen hider

To fecchen fir and rennen hom ayein?

God help me so, I kan nat tellen whider

We myghte gon, if I shal sothly seyn,

Ther any wight is of us more feyn

Than Sarpedoun; and if we hennes hye

490 Thus sodeynly, I holde it vilanye.

"Syn that we seyden that we wolde bleve

With hym a wowke, and now, thus sodeynly,

The ferthe day to take of hym owre leve --

He wolde wondren on it, trewely!

Lat us holden forth oure purpos fermely;

And syn that ye bihighten hym to bide,

Holde forward now, and after lat us ride."

Thus Pandarus, with alle peyne and wo,

Made hym to dwelle; and at the wikes ende

500 Of Sarpedoun they toke hire leve tho,

And on hire wey they spedden hem to wende.

Quod Troilus, "Now Lord me grace sende,

That I may fynden at myn hom-comynge

Criseyde comen!" And therwith gan he synge.

"Ye, haselwode!" thoughte this Pandare,

And to hymself ful softeliche he seyde,

"God woot, refreyden may this hote fare,

Er Calkas sende Troilus Criseyde!"

But natheles, he japed thus, and pleyde,

510 And swor, ywys, his herte hym wel bihighte

She wolde come as soone as evere she myghte.

Whan they unto the paleys were ycomen

Of Troilus, they doun of hors alighte,

And to the chambre hire wey than han they nomen;

And into tyme that it gan to nyghte

They spaken of Criseyde the brighte;

And after this, whan that hem bothe leste,

They spedde hem fro the soper unto reste.

On morwe, as soone as day bygan to clere,

520 This Troilus gan of his slep t' abrayde,

And to Pandare, his owen brother deere,

"For love of God," ful pitously he sayde,

"As go we sen the palais of Criseyde;

For syn we yet may have namore feste,

So lat us sen hire paleys atte leeste."

And therwithal, his meyne for to blende,

A cause he fond in towne for to go,

And to Criseydes hous they gonnen wende.

But Lord, this sely Troilus was wo!

530 Hym thoughte his sorwful herte braste a-two.

For whan he saugh hire dores spered alle,

Wel neigh for sorwe adoun he gan to falle.

Therwith, whan he was war and gan biholde

How shet was every wyndow of the place,

As frost, hym thoughte, his herte gan to colde;

For which with chaunged dedlich pale face,

Withouten word, he forthby gan to pace,

And as God wolde, he gan so faste ride

That no wight of his contenance espide.

540 Than seide he thus: "O paleys desolat,

O hous of houses whilom best ihight,

O paleys empty and disconsolat,

O thow lanterne of which queynt is the light,

O paleys, whilom day, that now art nyght,

Wel oughtestow to falle, and I to dye,

Syn she is went that wont was us to gye!

"O paleis, whilom crowne of houses alle,

Enlumyned with sonne of alle blisse!

O ryng, fro which the ruby is out falle,

550 O cause of wo, that cause hast ben of lisse!

Yet, syn I may no bet, fayn wolde I kisse

Thy colde dores, dorste I for this route;

And farwel shryne, of which the seynt is oute!"

Therwith he caste on Pandarus his ye,

With chaunged face, and pitous to biholde;

And whan he myghte his tyme aright aspie,

Ay as he rood to Pandarus he tolde

His newe sorwe and ek his joies olde,

So pitously and with so ded an hewe

560 That every wight myghte on his sorwe rewe.

Fro thennesforth he rideth up and down,

And every thyng com hym to remembraunce

As he rood forby places of the town

In which he whilom hadde al his plesaunce.

"Lo, yonder saugh ich last my lady daunce;

And in that temple, with hire eyen cleere,

Me kaughte first my righte lady dere.

"And yonder have I herd ful lustyly

My dere herte laugh; and yonder pleye

570 Saugh ich hire ones ek ful blisfully;

And yonder ones to me gan she seye,

`Now goode swete, love me wel, I preye';

And yond so goodly gan she me biholde

That to the deth myn herte is to hire holde.

"And at that corner, in the yonder hous,

Herde I myn alderlevest lady deere

So wommanly, with vois melodious,

Syngen so wel, so goodly, and so cleere

That in my soule yet me thynketh ich here

580 The blisful sown; and in that yonder place

My lady first me took unto hire grace."

Thanne thoughte he thus: "O blisful lord Cupide,

Whan I the proces have in my memorie

How thow me hast wereyed on every syde,

Men myght a book make of it, lik a storie.

What nede is the to seke on me victorie,

Syn I am thyn and holly at thi wille?

What joie hastow thyn owen folk to spille?

"Wel hastow, lord, ywroke on me thyn ire,

590 Thow myghty god, and dredefull for to greve!

Now mercy, lord! Thow woost wel I desire

Thi grace moost of alle lustes leeve,

And lyve and dye I wol in thy byleve;

For which I n' axe in guerdoun but o bone --

That thow Criseyde ayein me sende sone.

"Destreyne hire herte as faste to retorne

As thow doost myn to longen hire to see;

Than woot I wel that she nyl naught sojorne.

Now blisful lord, so cruel thow ne be

600 Unto the blood of Troie, I preye the,

As Juno was unto the blood Thebane,

For which the folk of Thebes caughte hire bane."

And after this he to the yates wente

Ther as Criseyde out rood a ful good paas,

And up and down ther made he many a wente,

And to hymself ful ofte he seyde, "Allas,

Fro hennes rood my blisse and my solas!

As wolde blisful God now, for his joie,

I myghte hire sen ayein come into Troie!

610 "And to the yonder hille I gan hire gyde,

Allas, and ther I took of hire my leve!

And yond I saugh hire to hire fader ride,

For sorwe of which myn herte shal tocleve;

And hider hom I com whan it was eve,

And here I dwelle out cast from alle joie,

And shal, til I may sen hire eft in Troie."

And of hymself ymagened he ofte

To ben defet, and pale, and waxen lesse

Than he was wont, and that men seyden softe,

620 "What may it be? Who kan the sothe gesse

Whi Troilus hath al this hevynesse?"

And al this nas but his malencolie,

That he hadde of hymself swich fantasie.

Another tyme ymaginen he wolde

That every wight that wente by the weye

Hadde of hym routhe, and that they seyen sholde,

"I am right sory Troilus wol deye."

And thus he drof a day yet forth or tweye,

As ye have herd; swich lif right gan he lede

630 As he that stood bitwixen hope and drede.

For which hym likede in his songes shewe

Th' enchesoun of his wo, as he best myghte;

And made a song of wordes but a fewe,

Somwhat his woful herte for to lighte;

And whan he was from every mannes syghte,

With softe vois he of his lady deere,

That absent was, gan synge as ye may heere:

"O sterre, of which I lost have al the light,

With herte soor wel oughte I to biwaille

640 That evere derk in torment, nyght by nyght,

Toward my deth with wynd in steere I saille;

For which the tenthe nyght, if that I faille

The gydyng of thi bemes bright an houre,

My ship and me Caribdis wol devoure."

This song whan he thus songen hadde, soone

He fil ayeyn into his sikes olde;

And every nyght, as was his wone to doone,

He stood the brighte moone to byholde,

And al his sorwe he to the moone tolde,

650 And seyde, "Ywis, whan thow art horned newe,

I shal be glad, if al the world be trewe!

"I saugh thyn hornes olde ek by the morwe

Whan hennes rood my righte lady dere

That cause is of my torment and my sorwe;

For which, O brighte Latona the clere,

For love of God, ren faste aboute thy spere!

For whan thyne hornes newe gynnen sprynge,

Than shal she come that may my blisse brynge."

The dayes moore and lenger every nyght

660 Than they ben wont to be, hym thoughte tho,

And that the sonne went his cours unright

By lenger weye than it was wont to do;

And seyde, "Ywis, me dredeth evere mo

The sonnes sone, Pheton, be on lyve,

And that his fader carte amys he dryve."

Upon the walles faste ek wolde he walke,

And on the Grekis oost he wolde se;

And to hymself right thus he wolde talke:

"Lo, yonder is myn owene lady free,

670 Or ellis yonder, ther tho tentes be;

And thennes comth this eyr, that is so soote

That in my soule I fele it doth me boote.

"And hardily, this wynd that more and moore

Thus stoundemele encresseth in my face

Is of my ladys depe sikes soore.

I preve it thus: for in noon other place

Of al this town, save onliche in this space,

Fele I no wynd that sowneth so lik peyne;

It seyth, `Allas! Whi twynned be we tweyne?'"

680 This longe tyme he dryveth forth right thus

Til fully passed was the nynthe nyght;

And ay bisyde hym was this Pandarus,

That bisily did al his fulle myght

Hym to conforte and make his herte light,

Yevyng hym hope alwey the tenthe morwe

That she shal come and stynten al his sorwe.

Upon that other syde ek was Criseyde,

With wommen fewe, among the Grekis stronge,

For which ful ofte a day "Allas," she seyde,

690 "That I was born! Wel may myn herte longe

After my deth, for now lyve I to longe.

Allas, and I ne may it nat amende,

For now is wors than evere yet I wende!

"My fader nyl for nothyng do me grace

To gon ayeyn, for naught I kan hym queme;

And if so be that I my terme pace,

My Troilus shal in his herte deme

That I am fals, and so it may wel seme:

Thus shal ich have unthonk on every side --

700 That I was born so weilaway the tide!

"And if that I me putte in jupartie

To stele awey by nyght, and it bifalle

That I be kaught, I shal be holde a spie;

Or elles -- lo, this drede I moost of alle --

If in the hondes of som wrecche I falle,

I nam but lost, al be myn herte trewe.

Now, myghty God, thow on my sorwe rewe!"

Ful pale ywoxen was hire brighte face,

Hire lymes lene, as she that al the day

710 Stood, whan she dorste, and loked on the place

Ther she was born, and ther she dwelt hadde ay;

And al the nyght wepyng, allas, she lay.

And thus despeired, out of alle cure,

She ladde hire lif, this woful creature.

Ful ofte a day she sighte ek for destresse,

And in hireself she wente ay purtraynge

Of Troilus the grete worthynesse,

And al his goodly wordes recordynge

Syn first that day hire love bigan to springe.

720 And thus she sette hire woful herte afire

Thorugh remembraunce of that she gan desire.

In al this world ther nys so cruel herte

That hire hadde herd compleynen in hire sorwe

That nolde han wepen for hire peynes smerte,

So tendrely she weep, bothe eve and morwe.

Hire nedede no teris for to borwe!

And this was yet the werste of al hire peyne:

Ther was no wight to whom she dorste hire pleyne.

Ful rewfully she loked upon Troie,

730 Biheld the toures heigh and ek the halles;

"Allas," quod she, "the plesance and the joie,

The which that now al torned into galle is,

Have ich had ofte withinne yonder walles!

O Troilus, what dostow now?" she seyde.

"Lord, wheyther thow yet thenke upon Criseyde?

"Allas, I ne hadde trowed on youre loore

And went with yow, as ye me redde er this!

Than hadde I now nat siked half so soore.

Who myghte han seyd that I hadde don amys

740 To stele awey with swich oon as he ys.

But al to late comth the letuarie

Whan men the cors unto the grave carie.

"To late is now to speke of that matere.

Prudence, allas, oon of thyne eyen thre

Me lakked alwey, er that I come here!

On tyme ypassed wel remembred me,

And present tyme ek koud ich wel ise,

But future tyme, er I was in the snare,

Koude I nat sen; that causeth now my care.

750 "But natheles, bityde what bityde,

I shal to-morwe at nyght, by est or west,

Out of this oost stele in som manere syde,

And gon with Troilus where as hym lest.

This purpos wol ich holde, and this is best.

No fors of wikked tonges janglerie,

For evere on love han wrecches had envye.

"For whoso wol of every word take hede,

Or reulen hym by every wightes wit,

Ne shal he nevere thryven, out of drede;

760 For that that som men blamen evere yit,

Lo, other manere folk comenden it.

And as for me, for al swich variaunce,

Felicite clepe I my suffisaunce.

"For which, withouten any wordes mo,

To Troie I wole, as for conclusioun."

But God it wot, er fully monthes two,

She was ful fer fro that entencioun!

For bothe Troilus and Troie town

Shal knotteles thorughout hire herte slide;

770 For she wol take a purpos for t' abide.

This Diomede, of whom yow telle I gan,

Goth now withinne hymself ay arguynge,

With al the sleghte and al that evere he kan,

How he may best, with shortest taryinge,

Into his net Criseydes herte brynge.

To this entent he koude nevere fyne;

To fisshen hire he leyde out hook and lyne.

But natheles, wel in his herte he thoughte

That she nas nat withoute a love in Troie,

780 For nevere sythen he hire thennes broughte

Ne koude he sen hire laughe or maken joie.

He nyst how best hire herte for t' acoye;

"But for t' asay," he seyde, "it naught n' agreveth,

For he that naught n' asaieth naught n' acheveth."

Yet seyde he to hymself upon a nyght,

"Now am I nat a fool, that woot wel how

Hire wo for love is of another wight,

And hereupon to gon assaye hire now?

I may wel wite it nyl nat ben my prow,

790 For wise folk in bookes it expresse,

`Men shal nat wowe a wight in hevynesse.'

"But whoso myghte wynnen swich a flour

From hym for whom she morneth nyght and day,

He myghte seyn he were a conquerour."

And right anon, as he that bold was ay,

Thoughte in his herte, "Happe how happe may,

Al sholde I dye, I wol hire herte seche!

I shal namore lesen but my speche."

This Diomede, as bokes us declare,

800 Was in his nedes prest and corageous,

With sterne vois and myghty lymes square,

Hardy, testif, strong, and chivalrous

Of dedes, lik his fader Tideus.

And som men seyn he was of tonge large;

And heir he was of Calydoigne and Arge.

Criseyde mene was of hire stature;

Therto of shap, of face, and ek of cheere,

Ther myghte ben no fairer creature.

And ofte tymes this was hire manere:

810 To gon ytressed with hire heres clere

Doun by hire coler at hire bak byhynde,

Which with a thred of gold she wolde bynde;

And, save hire browes joyneden yfeere,

Ther nas no lak, in aught I kan espien.

But for to speken of hire eyen cleere,

Lo, trewely, they writen that hire syen

That Paradis stood formed in hire yen.

And with hire riche beaute evere more

Strof love in hire ay, which of hem was more.

820 She sobre was, ek symple, and wys withal,

The best ynorisshed ek that myghte be,

And goodly of hire speche in general,

Charitable, estatlich, lusty, fre;

Ne nevere mo ne lakked hire pite;

Tendre-herted, slydynge of corage;

But trewely, I kan nat telle hire age.

And Troilus wel woxen was in highte,

And complet formed by proporcioun

So wel that kynde it nought amenden myghte;

830 Yong, fressh, strong, and hardy as lyoun;

Trewe as stiel in ech condicioun;

Oon of the beste entecched creature

That is or shal whil that the world may dure.

And certeynly in storye it is yfounde

That Troilus was nevere unto no wight,

As in his tyme, in no degree secounde

In durryng don that longeth to a knyght.

Al myghte a geant passen hym of myght,

His herte ay with the first and with the beste

840 Stood paregal, to durre don that hym leste.

But for to tellen forth of Diomede:

It fel that after, on the tenthe day

Syn that Criseyde out of the citee yede,

This Diomede, as fressh as braunche in May,

Com to the tente ther as Calkas lay,

And feyned hym with Calkas han to doone;

But what he mente, I shal yow tellen soone.

Criseyde, at shorte wordes for to telle,

Welcomed hym and down hym by hire sette --

850 And he was ethe ynough to maken dwelle!

And after this, withouten longe lette,

The spices and the wyn men forth hem fette;

And forth they speke of this and that yfeere,

As frendes don, of which som shal ye heere.

He gan first fallen of the werre in speche

Bitwixe hem and the folk of Troie town;

And of th' assege he gan hire ek biseche

To telle hym what was hire opynyoun;

Fro that demaunde he so descendeth down

860 To axen hire if that hire straunge thoughte

The Grekis gise and werkes that they wroughte;

And whi hire fader tarieth so longe

To wedden hire unto som worthy wight.

Criseyde, that was in hire peynes stronge

For love of Troilus, hire owen knyght,

As ferforth as she konnyng hadde or myght

Answerde hym tho; but as of his entente,

It semed nat she wiste what he mente.

But natheles, this ilke Diomede

870 Gan in hymself assure, and thus he seyde:

"If ich aright have taken of yow hede,

Me thynketh thus, O lady myn, Criseyde,

That syn I first hond on youre bridel leyde,

Whan ye out come of Troie by the morwe,

Ne koude I nevere sen yow but in sorwe.

"Kan I nat seyn what may the cause be,

But if for love of som Troian it were,

The which right sore wolde athynken me

That ye for any wight that dwelleth there

880 Sholden spille a quarter of a tere

Or pitously youreselven so bigile --

For dredeles, it is nought worth the while.

"The folk of Troie, as who seyth, alle and some

In prisoun ben, as ye youreselven se;

Nor thennes shal nat oon on-lyve come

For al the gold atwixen sonne and se.

Trusteth wel, and understondeth me,

Ther shal nat oon to mercy gon on-lyve,

Al were he lord of worldes twies fyve!

890 "Swich wreche on hem for fecchynge of Eleyne

Ther shal ben take, er that we hennes wende,

That Manes, which that goddes ben of peyne,

Shal ben agast that Grekes wol hem shende,

And men shul drede, unto the worldes ende,

From hennesforth to ravysshen any queene,

So cruel shal oure wreche on hem be seene.

"And but if Calkas lede us with ambages --

That is to seyn, with double wordes slye,

Swiche as men clepen a word with two visages --

900 Ye shal wel knowen that I naught ne lie,

And al this thyng right sen it with youre ye,

And that anon, ye nyl nat trowe how sone;

Now taketh hede, for it is for to doone.

"What! Wene ye youre wise fader wolde

Han yeven Antenor for yow anon,

If he ne wiste that the cite sholde

Destroied ben? Whi, nay, so mote I gon!

He knew ful wel ther shal nat scapen oon

That Troian is. and for the grete feere

910 He dorste nat ye dwelte lenger there.

"What wol ye more, lufsom lady deere?

Lat Troie and Troian fro youre herte pace!

Drif out that bittre hope, and make good cheere,

And clepe ayeyn the beaute of youre face

That ye with salte teris so deface,

For Troie is brought in swich a jupartie

That it to save is now no remedie.

"And thenketh wel, ye shal in Grekis fynde

A moore parfit love, er it be nyght,

920 Than any Troian is, and more kynde,

And bet to serven yow wol don his myght.

And if ye vouchesauf, my lady bright,

I wol ben he to serven yow myselve,

Yee, levere than be kyng of Greces twelve!"

And with that word he gan to waxen red,

And in his speche a litel wight he quok,

And caste asyde a litel wight his hed,

And stynte a while; and afterward he wok,

And sobreliche on hire he threw his lok,

930 And seyde, "I am, al be it yow no joie,

As gentil man as any wight in Troie.

"For if my fader Tideus," he seyde,

"Ilyved hadde, ich hadde ben er this

Of Calydoyne and Arge a kyng, Criseyde!

And so hope I that I shal yet, iwis.

But he was slayn -- allas, the more harm is. --

Unhappily at Thebes al to rathe,

Polymyte and many a man to scathe.

"But herte myn, syn that I am youre man --

940 And ben the first of whom I seche grace --

To serve yow as hertely as I kan,

And evere shal whil I to lyve have space,

So, er that I departe out of this place,

Ye wol me graunte that I may to-morwe,

At bettre leyser, telle yow my sorwe."

What sholde I telle his wordes that he seyde?

He spak inough for o day at the meeste.

It preveth wel; he spak so that Criseyde

Graunted on the morwe, at his requeste,

950 For to speken with hym at the leeste --

So that he nolde speke of swich matere.

And thus to hym she seyde, as ye may here,

As she that hadde hire herte on Troilus

So faste that ther may it non arace;

And strangely she spak, and seyde thus:

"O Diomede, I love that ilke place

Ther I was born; and Joves, for his grace,

Delyvere it soone of al that doth it care!

God, for thy myght, so leve it wel to fare!

960 "That Grekis wolde hire wrath on Troie wreke,

If that they myght, I knowe it wel, iwis;

But it shal naught byfallen as ye speke,

And God toforn! And forther over this,

I woot my fader wys and redy is,

And that he me hath bought, as ye me tolde,

So deere, I am the more unto hym holde.

"That Grekis ben of heigh condicioun

I woot ek wel; but certeyn, men shal fynde

As worthi folk withinne Troie town,

970 As konnyng, and as parfit, and as kynde,

As ben bitwixen Orkades and Inde;

And that ye koude wel yowre lady serve,

I trowe ek wel, hire thank for to deserve.

"But as to speke of love, ywis," she seyde,

"I hadde a lord, to whom I wedded was,

The whos myn herte al was, til that he deyde;

And other love, as help me now Pallas,

Ther in myn herte nys, ne nevere was.

And that ye ben of noble and heigh kynrede,

980 I have wel herd it tellen, out of drede.

"And that doth me to han so gret a wonder

That ye wol scornen any womman so.

Ek, God woot, love and I ben fer ysonder!

I am disposed bet, so mot I go,

Unto my deth, to pleyne and maken wo.

What I shal after don I kan nat seye;

But trewelich, as yet me list nat pleye.

"Myn herte is now in tribulacioun,

And ye in armes bisy day by day.

990 Herafter, whan ye wonnen han the town,

Peraventure so it happen may

That whan I se that nevere yit I say

Than wol I werke that I nevere wroughte!

This word to yow ynough suffisen oughte.

"To-morwe ek wol I speken with yow fayn,

So that ye touchen naught of this matere.

And whan yow list, ye may come here ayayn;

And er ye gon, thus muche I sey yow here:

As help me Pallas with hire heres clere,

1000 If that I sholde of any Grek han routhe,

It sholde be youreselven, by my trouthe!

"I say nat therfore that I wol yow love,

N' y say nat nay; but in conclusioun,

I mene wel, by God that sit above!"

And therwithal she caste hire eyen down,

And gan to sike, and seyde, "O Troie town,

Yet bidde I God in quiete and in reste

I may yow sen, or do myn herte breste."

But in effect, and shortly for to seye,

1010 This Diomede al fresshly newe ayeyn

Gan pressen on, and faste hire mercy preye;

And after this, the sothe for to seyn,

Hire glove he took, of which he was ful feyn;

And finaly, whan it was woxen eve

And al was wel, he roos and tok his leve.

The brighte Venus folwede and ay taughte

The wey ther brode Phebus down alighte;

And Cynthea hire char-hors overraughte

To whirle out of the Leoun, if she myghte;

1020 And Signifer his candels sheweth brighte

Whan that Criseyde unto hire bedde wente

Inwith hire fadres faire brighte tente,

Retornyng in hire soule ay up and down

The wordes of this sodeyn Diomede,

His grete estat, and perel of the town,

And that she was allone and hadde nede

Of frendes help; and thus bygan to brede

The cause whi, the sothe for to telle,

That she took fully purpos for to dwelle.

1030 The morwen com, and gostly for to speke,

This Diomede is come unto Criseyde;

And shortly, lest that ye my tale breke,

So wel he for hymselven spak and seyde

That alle hire sikes soore adown he leyde;

And finaly, the sothe for to seyne,

He refte hire of the grete of al hire peyne.

And after this the storie telleth us

That she hym yaf the faire baye stede

The which he ones wan of Troilus;

1040 And ek a broche -- and that was litel nede --

That Troilus was, she yaf this Diomede.

And ek, the bet from sorwe hym to releve,

She made hym were a pencel of hire sleve.

I fynde ek in stories elleswhere,

Whan thorugh the body hurt was Diomede

Of Troilus, tho wep she many a teere

Whan that she saugh his wyde wowndes blede,

And that she took, to kepen hym, good hede;

And for to helen hym of his sorwes smerte,

1050 Men seyn -- I not -- that she yaf hym hire herte.

But trewely, the storie telleth us,

Ther made nevere womman moore wo

Than she, whan that she falsed Troilus.

She seyde, "Allas, for now is clene ago

My name of trouthe in love, for everemo!

For I have falsed oon the gentileste

That evere was, and oon the worthieste!

"Allas, of me, unto the worldes ende,

Shal neyther ben ywriten nor ysonge

1060 No good word, for thise bokes wol me shende.

O, rolled shal I ben on many a tonge!

Thorughout the world my belle shal be ronge!

And wommen moost wol haten me of alle.

Allas, that swich a cas me sholde falle!

"Thei wol seyn, in as muche as in me is,

I have hem don dishonour, weylaway!

Al be I nat the first that dide amys,

What helpeth that to don my blame awey?

But syn I se ther is no bettre way,

1070 And that to late is now for me to rewe,

To Diomede algate I wol be trewe.

"But, Troilus, syn I no bettre may,

And syn that thus departen ye and I,

Yet prey I God, so yeve yow right good day,

As for the gentileste, trewely,

That evere I say, to serven feythfully,

And best kan ay his lady honour kepe."

And with that word she brast anon to wepe.

"And certes yow ne haten shal I nevere;

1080 And frendes love, that shal ye han of me,

And my good word, al sholde I lyven evere.

And trewely I wolde sory be

For to seen yow in adversitee;

And gilteles, I woot wel, I yow leve.

But al shal passe; and thus take I my leve."

But trewely, how longe it was bytwene

That she forsok hym for this Diomede,

Ther is non auctour telleth it, I wene.

Take every man now to his bokes heede,

1090 He shal no terme fynden, out of drede.

For though that he bigan to wowe hire soone,

Er he hire wan, yet was ther more to doone.

Ne me ne list this sely womman chyde

Forther than the storye wol devyse.

Hire name, allas, is publysshed so wide

That for hire gilt it oughte ynough suffise.

And if I myghte excuse hire any wise,

For she so sory was for hire untrouthe,

Iwis, I wolde excuse hire yet for routhe.

1100 This Troilus, as I byfore have told,

Thus driveth forth, as wel as he hath myght;

But often was his herte hoot and cold,

And namely that ilke nynthe nyght,

Which on the morwe she hadde hym bihight

To com ayeyn. God woot, ful litel reste

Hadde he that nyght -- nothyng to slepe hym leste.

The laurer-crowned Phebus with his heete

Gan, in his cours ay upward as he wente,

To warmen of the est se the wawes weete,

1110 And Nysus doughter song with fressh entente,

Whan Troilus his Pandare after sente;

And on the walles of the town they pleyde,

To loke if they kan sen aught of Criseyde.

Tyl it was noon they stoden for to se

Who that ther come, and every maner wight

That com fro fer, they seyden it was she --

Til that thei koude knowen hym aright.

Now was his herte dul, now was it light.

And thus byjaped stonden for to stare

1120 Aboute naught this Troilus and Pandare.

To Pandarus this Troilus tho seyde,

"For aught I woot, byfor noon, sikirly,

Into this town ne comth nat here Criseyde.

She hath ynough to doone, hardyly,

To wynnen from hire fader, so trowe I.

Hire olde fader wol yet make hire dyne

Er that she go -- God yeve hys herte pyne!"

Pandare answerede, "It may wel be, certeyn.

And forthi lat us dyne, I the byseche,

1130 And after noon than maystow come ayeyn."

And hom they go, withoute more speche,

And comen ayeyn -- but longe may they seche

Er that they fynde that they after cape.

Fortune hem bothe thenketh for to jape!

Quod Troilus, "I se wel now that she

Is taried with hire olde fader so,

That er she come, it wol neigh even be.

Com forth; I wol unto the yate go.

Thise porters ben unkonnyng evere mo,

1140 And I wol don hem holden up the yate

As naught ne were, although she come late."

The day goth faste, and after that com eve,

And yet com nought to Troilus Criseyde.

He loketh forth by hegge, by tre, by greve,

And fer his hed over the wal he leyde;

And at the laste he torned hym and seyde,

"By God, I woot hire menyng now, Pandare!

Almoost, ywys, al newe was my care.

"Now douteles, this lady kan hire good;

1150 I woot she meneth riden pryvely.

I comende hire wisdom, by myn hood!

She wol nat maken peple nycely

Gaure on hire whan she comth, but softely

By nyghte into the town she thenketh ride.

And, deere brother, thynk nat longe t' abide.

"We han naught elles for to don, ywis.

And Pandarus, now woltow trowen me?

Have here my trouthe, I se hire! Yond she is.

Heve up thyn eyen, man! Maistow nat se?"

1160 Pandare answerede, "Nay, so mote I the!

Al wrong, by God! What saistow, man? Where arte?

That I se yond nys but a fare-carte."

"Allas, thow seyst right soth," quod Troilus.

"But, hardily, it is naught al for nought

That in myn herte I now rejoysse thus;

It is ayeyns som good I have a thought.

Not I nat how, but syn that I was wrought

Ne felte I swich a comfort, dar I seye;

She comth to-nyght, my lif that dorste I leye!"

1170 Pandare answerde, "It may be, wel ynough,"

And held with hym of al that evere he seyde.

But in his herte he thoughte, and softe lough,

And to hymself ful sobreliche he seyde,

"From haselwode, there joly Robyn pleyde,

Shal come al that that thow abidest heere.

Ye, fare wel al the snow of ferne yere!"

The warden of the yates gan to calle

The folk which that withoute the yates were,

And bad hem dryven in hire bestes alle,

1180 Or all the nyght they moste bleven there.

And fer withinne the nyght, with many a teere,

This Troilus gan homward for to ride,

For wel he seth it helpeth naught t' abide.

But natheles, he gladed hym in this:

He thought he misacounted hadde his day,

And seyde, "I understonde have al amys.

For thilke nyght I last Criseyde say,

She seyde, `I shal ben here, if that I may,

Er that the moone, O deere herte swete,

1190 The Leoun passe, out of this Ariete.'

"For which she may yet holde al hire byheste."

And on the morwe unto the yate he wente,

And up and down, by west and ek by este,

Upon the walles made he many a wente.

But al for nought; his hope alwey hym blente.

For which at nyght, in sorwe and sikes sore,

He wente hym hom, withouten any more.

His hope al clene out of his herte fledde;

He nath wheron now lenger for to honge;

1200 But for the peyne hym thoughte his herte bledde,

So were his throwes sharpe and wonder stronge;

For whan he saugh that she abood so longe,

He nyste what he juggen of it myghte,

Syn she hath broken that she hym bihighte.

The thridde, ferthe, fifte, sexte day

After tho dayes ten of which I tolde,

Bitwixen hope and drede his herte lay,

Yet somwhat trustyng on hire hestes olde.

But whan he saugh she nolde hire terme holde,

1210 He kan now sen non other remedie

But for to shape hym soone for to dye.

Therwith the wikked spirit, God us blesse,

Which that men clepeth woode jalousie,

Gan in hym crepe, in al this hevynesse;

For which, by cause he wolde soone dye,

He ne et ne drank, for his malencolye,

And ek from every compaignye he fledde:

This was the lif that al the tyme he ledde.

He so defet was, that no manere man

1220 Unneth hym myghte knowen ther he wente;

So was he lene, and therto pale and wan,

And feble, that he walketh by potente;

And with his ire he thus hymselve shente.

But whoso axed hym wherof hym smerte,

He seyde his harm was al aboute his herte.

Priam ful ofte, and ek his moder deere,

His bretheren and his sustren gonne hym freyne

Whi he so sorwful was in al his cheere,

And what thyng was the cause of al his peyne;

1230 But al for naught. He nolde his cause pleyne,

But seyde he felte a grevous maladie

Aboute his herte, and fayn he wolde dye.

So on a day he leyde hym doun to slepe,

And so byfel that yn his slep hym thoughte

That in a forest faste he welk to wepe

For love of here that hym these peynes wroughte;

And up and doun as he the forest soughte,

He mette he saugh a bor with tuskes grete,

That slepte ayeyn the bryghte sonnes hete.

1240 And by this bor, faste in his armes folde,

Lay, kyssyng ay, his lady bryght, Criseyde.

For sorwe of which, whan he it gan byholde,

And for despit, out of his slep he breyde,

And loude he cride on Pandarus, and seyde:

"O Pandarus, now know I crop and roote.

I n' am but ded; ther nys noon other bote.

"My lady bryght, Criseyde, hath me bytrayed,

In whom I trusted most of ony wight.

She elliswhere hath now here herte apayed.

1250 The blysful goddes thorugh here grete myght

Han in my drem yshewed it ful right.

Thus yn my drem Criseyde have I byholde" --

And al this thing to Pandarus he tolde.

"O my Criseyde, allas, what subtilte,

What newe lust, what beaute, what science,

What wratthe of juste cause have ye to me?

What gilt of me, what fel experience

Hath fro me raft, allas, thyn advertence?

O trust, O feyth, O depe asseuraunce!

1260 Who hath me reft Criseyde, al my plesaunce?

"Allas, whi leet I you from hennes go,

For which wel neigh out of my wit I breyde?

Who shal now trowe on any othes mo?

God wot, I wende, O lady bright, Criseyde,

That every word was gospel that ye seyde!

But who may bet bigile, yf hym lyste,

Than he on whom men weneth best to triste?

"What shal I don, my Pandarus, allas?

I fele now so sharp a newe peyne,

1270 Syn that ther lith no remedye in this cas,

That bet were it I with myn hondes tweyne

Myselven slowh alwey than thus to pleyne;

For thorugh the deth my wo sholde han an ende,

Ther every day with lyf myself I shende."

Pandare answerde and seyde, "Allas the while

That I was born! Have I nat seyd er this,

That dremes many a maner man bigile?

And whi? For folk expounden hem amys.

How darstow seyn that fals thy lady ys

1280 For any drem, right for thyn owene drede?

Lat be this thought; thow kanst no dremes rede.

"Peraunter, ther thow dremest of this boor,

It may so be that it may signifie

Hire fader, which that old is and ek hoor,

Ayeyn the sonne lith o poynt to dye,

And she for sorwe gynneth wepe and crie,

And kisseth hym, ther he lith on the grounde:

Thus sholdestow thi drem aright expounde!"

"How myghte I than don," quod Troilus,

1290 "To knowe of this, yee, were it nevere so lite?"

"Now seystow wisly," quod this Pandarus;

"My red is this: syn thow kanst wel endite,

That hastily a lettre thow hire write,

Thorugh which thow shalt wel bryngyn it aboute

To know a soth of that thow art in doute.

"And se now whi: for this I dar wel seyn,

That if so is that she untrewe be,

I kan nat trowen that she wol write ayeyn.

And if she write, thow shalt ful sone yse

1300 As wheither she hath any liberte

To come ayeyn; or ellis in som clause,

If she be let, she wol assigne a cause.

"Thow hast nat writen hire syn that she wente,

Nor she to the; and this I dorste laye,

Ther may swich cause ben in hire entente

That hardily thow wolt thiselven saye

That hire abod the best is for yow twaye.

Now writ hire thanne, and thow shalt feele sone

A soth of al. Ther is namore to done."

1310 Acorded ben to this conclusioun,

And that anon, thise ilke lordes two;

And hastily sit Troilus adown,

And rolleth in his herte to and fro

How he may best discryven hire his wo.

And to Criseyde, his owen lady deere,

He wrot right thus, and seyde as ye may here:

"Right fresshe flour, whos I ben have and shal,

Withouten part of elleswhere servyse,

With herte, body, lif, lust, thought, and al,

1320 I, woful wyght, in everich humble wise

That tonge telle or herte may devyse,

As ofte as matere occupieth place,

Me recomaunde unto youre noble grace.

"Liketh yow to witen, swete herte,

As ye wel knowe, how longe tyme agon

That ye me lefte in aspre peynes smerte,

Whan that ye wente, of which yet boote non

Have I non had, but evere wors bigon

Fro day to day am I, and so mot dwelle,

1330 While it yow list, of wele and wo my welle.

"For which to yow, with dredful herte trewe,

I write, as he that sorwe drifth to write,

My wo, that everich houre encresseth newe,

Compleynyng, as I dar or kan endite.

And that defaced is, that may ye wite

The teris which that fro myn eyen reyne,

That wolden speke, if that they koude, and pleyne.

"Yow first biseche I, that youre eyen clere

To loke on this defouled ye nat holde;

1340 And over al this, that ye, my lady deere,

Wol vouchesauf this lettre to byholde;

And by the cause ek of my cares colde

That sleth my wit, if aught amys m' asterte,

Foryeve it me, myn owen swete herte!

"If any servant dorste or oughte of right

Upon his lady pitously compleyne,

Thanne wene I that ich oughte be that wight,

Considered this, that ye thise monthes tweyne

Han taried, ther ye seyden, soth to seyne,

1350 But dayes ten ye nolde in oost sojourne --

But in two monthes yet ye nat retourne.

"But for as muche as me moot nedes like

Al that yow liste, I dar nat pleyne moore,

But humblely, with sorwful sikes sike,

Yow write ich myn unresty sorwes soore,

Fro day to day desiryng evere moore

To knowen fully, if youre wille it weere,

How ye han ferd and don whil ye be theere;

"The whos welfare and hele ek God encresse

1360 In honour swich that upward in degree

It growe alwey, so that it nevere cesse.

Right as youre herte ay kan, my lady free,

Devyse, I prey to God so moot it be,

And graunte it that ye soone upon me rewe,

As wisly as in al I am yow trewe.

"And if yow liketh knowen of the fare

Of me, whos wo ther may no wit discryve,

I kan namore but, chiste of every care,

At wrytyng of this lettre I was on-lyve,

1370 Al redy out my woful gost to dryve,

Which I delaye, and holde hym yet in honde,

Upon the sighte of matere of youre sonde.

"Myn eyen two, in veyn with which I se,

Of sorwful teris salte arn waxen welles;

My song, in pleynte of myn adversitee;

My good, in harm; myn ese ek woxen helle is.

My joie, in wo; I kan sey yow naught ellis,

But torned is -- for which my lif I warie --

Everich joie or ese in his contrarie;

1380 "Which with youre comyng hom ayeyn to Troie

Ye may redresse, and more a thousand sithe

Than evere ich hadde encressen in me joie.

For was ther nevere herte yet so blithe

To han his lif as I shal ben as swithe

As I yow se; and though no manere routhe

Commeve yow, yet thynketh on youre trouthe.

"And if so be my gilt hath deth deserved,

Or if yow list namore upon me se,

In guerdoun yet of that I have yow served,

1390 Byseche I yow, myn owen lady free,

That hereupon ye wolden write me,

For love of God, my righte lode-sterre,

That deth may make an ende of al my werre;

"If other cause aught doth yow for to dwelle,

That with youre lettre ye me recomforte;

For though to me youre absence is an helle,

With pacience I wol my wo comporte,

And with youre lettre of hope I wol desporte.

Now writeth, swete, and lat me thus nat pleyne;

1400 With hope, or deth, delivereth me fro peyne.

"Iwis, myne owene deere herte trewe,

I woot that whan ye next upon me se,

So lost have I myn hele and ek myn hewe,

Criseyde shal nought konne knowen me.

Iwys, myn hertes day, my lady free,

So thursteth ay myn herte to byholde

Youre beute, that my lif unnethe I holde.

"I say namore, al have I for to seye

To yow wel more than I telle may;

1410 But wheither that ye do me lyve or deye,

Yet praye I God, so yeve yow right good day!

And fareth wel, goodly, faire, fresshe may,

As she that lif or deth may me comande!

And to youre trouthe ay I me recomande,

"With hele swich that, but ye yeven me

The same hele, I shal non hele have.

In yow lith, whan yow liste that it so be,

The day in which me clothen shal my grave;

In yow my lif, in yow myght for to save

1420 Me fro disese of alle peynes smerte;

And far now wel, myn owen swete herte! Le vostre T."

This lettre forth was sent unto Criseyde,

Of which hire answere in effect was this:

Ful pitously she wroot ayeyn, and seyde,

That also sone as that she myghte, ywys,

She wolde come, and mende al that was mys.

And fynaly she wroot and seyde hym thenne,

She wolde come, ye, but she nyste whenne.

But in hire lettre made she swich festes

1430 That wonder was, and swerth she loveth hym best,

Of which he fond but botmeles bihestes.

But Troilus, thow maist now, est or west,

Pipe in an ivy lef, if that the lest!

Thus goth the world. God shilde us fro meschaunce,

And every wight that meneth trouthe avaunce!

Encressen gan the wo fro day to nyght

Of Troilus, for tarying of Criseyde;

And lessen gan his hope and ek his myght,

For which al down he in his bed hym leyde.

1440 He ne eet, ne dronk, ne slep, ne word seyde,

Ymagynyng ay that she was unkynde,

For which wel neigh he wex out of his mynde.

This drem, of which I told have ek byforn,

May nevere outen of his remembraunce.

He thought ay wel he hadde his lady lorn,

And that Joves of his purveyaunce

Hym shewed hadde in slep the signifiaunce

Of hire untrouthe and his disaventure,

And that the boor was shewed hym in figure.

1450 For which he for Sibille his suster sente,

That called was Cassandre ek al aboute,

And al his drem he tolde hire er he stente,

And hire bisoughte assoilen hym the doute

Of the stronge boor with tuskes stoute;

And fynaly, withinne a litel stounde,

Cassandre hym gan right thus his drem expounde:

She gan first smyle, and seyde, "O brother deere,

If thow a soth of this desirest knowe,

Thow most a fewe of olde stories heere,

1460 To purpos how that Fortune overthrowe

Hath lordes olde, thorugh which, withinne a throwe,

Thow wel this boor shalt knowe, and of what kynde

He comen is, as men in bokes fynde.

"Diane, which that wroth was and in ire

For Grekis nolde don hire sacrifice,

Ne encens upon hire auter sette afire,

She, for that Grekis gonne hire so despise,

Wrak hire in a wonder cruel wise;

For with a boor as gret as ox in stalle

1470 She made up frete hire corn and vynes alle.

"To sle this boor was al the contre raysed,

Amonges which ther com, this boor to se,

A mayde, oon of this world the beste ypreysed;

And Meleagre, lord of that contree,

He loved so this fresshe mayden free

That with his manhod, er he wolde stente,

This boor he slough, and hire the hed he sente;

"Of which, as olde bokes tellen us,

Ther ros a contek and a gret envye;

1480 And of this lord descended Tideus

By ligne, or ellis olde bookes lye.

But how this Meleagre gan to dye

Thorugh his moder, wol I yow naught telle,

For al to longe it were for to dwelle."

She tolde ek how Tideus, er she stente,

Unto the stronge citee of Thebes,

To cleymen kyngdom of the citee, wente,

For his felawe, daun Polymytes,

Of which the brother, daun Ethiocles,

1490 Ful wrongfully of Thebes held the strengthe;

This tolde she by proces, al by lengthe.

She tolde ek how Hemonydes asterte,

Whan Tideus slough fifty knyghtes stoute.

She tolde ek alle the prophecyes by herte,

And how that seven kynges with hire route

Bysegeden the citee al aboute;

And of the holy serpent, and the welle,

And of the furies, al she gan hym telle;

Of Archymoris brennynge and the pleyes,

1500 And how Amphiorax fil thorugh the grounde,

How Tideus was sleyn, lord of Argeyes,

And how Ypomedoun in litel stounde

Was dreynt, and ded Parthonope of wownde;

And also how Capaneus the proude

With thonder-dynt was slayn, that cride loude.

She gan ek telle hym how that eyther brother,

Ethiocles and Polymyte also,

At a scarmuche ech of hem slough other,

And of Argyves wepynge and hire wo;

1510 And how the town was brent, she tolde ek tho;

And so descendeth down from gestes olde

To Diomede, and thus she spak and tolde:

"This ilke boor bitokneth Diomede,

Tideus sone, that down descended is

Fro Meleagre, that made the boor to blede;

And thy lady, wherso she be, ywis,

This Diomede hire herte hath, and she his.

Wep if thow wolt, or lef, for out of doute,

This Diomede is inne, and thow art oute."

1520 "Thow seyst nat soth," quod he, "thow sorceresse,

With al thy false goost of prophecye!

Thow wenest ben a gret devyneresse!

Now sestow nat this fool of fantasie

Peyneth hire on ladys for to lye?

Awey!" quod he. "Ther Joves yeve the sorwe!

Thow shalt be fals, peraunter, yet tomorwe!

"As wel thow myghtest lien on Alceste,

That was of creatures, but men lye,

That evere weren, kyndest and the beste!

1530 For whan hire housbonde was in jupertye

To dye hymself but if she wolde dye,

She ches for hym to dye and gon to helle,

And starf anon, as us the bokes telle."

Cassandre goth, and he with cruel herte

Foryat his wo, for angre of hire speche;

And from his bed al sodeynly he sterte,

As though al hool hym hadde ymad a leche.

And day by day he gan enquere and seche

A sooth of this with al his fulle cure;

1540 And thus he drieth forth his aventure.

Fortune, which that permutacioun

Of thynges hath, as it is hire comitted

Thorugh purveyaunce and disposicioun

Of heighe Jove, as regnes shal be flitted

Fro folk in folk, or when they shal be smytted,

Gan pulle awey the fetheres brighte of Troie

Fro day to day, til they ben bare of joie.

Among al this, the fyn of the parodie

Of Ector gan aprochen wonder blyve.

1550 The fate wolde his soule sholde unbodye,

And shapen hadde a mene it out to dryve,

Ayeyns which fate hym helpeth nat to stryve;

But on a day to fighten gan he wende,

At which -- allas! -- he caughte his lyves ende.

For which me thynketh every manere wight

That haunteth armes oughte to biwaille

The deth of hym that was so noble a knyght;

For as he drough a kyng by th' aventaille,

Unwar of this, Achilles thorugh the maille

1560 And thorugh the body gan hym for to ryve;

And thus this worthi knyght was brought of lyve.

For whom, as olde bokes tellen us,

Was mad swich wo that tonge it may nat telle,

And namely, the sorwe of Troilus,

That next hym was of worthynesse welle;

And in this wo gan Troilus to dwelle

That, what for sorwe, and love, and for unreste,

Ful ofte a day he bad his herte breste.

But natheles, though he gan hym dispaire,

1570 And dradde ay that his lady was untrewe,

Yet ay on hire his herte gan repaire.

And as thise lovers don, he soughte ay newe

To gete ayeyn Criseyde, brighte of hewe;

And in his herte he wente hire excusynge,

That Calkas caused al hire tariynge.

And ofte tyme he was in purpos grete

Hymselven lik a pilgrym to desgise

To seen hire; but he may nat contrefete

To ben unknowen of folk that weren wise,

1580 Ne fynde excuse aright that may suffise

If he among the Grekis knowen were;

For which he wep ful ofte and many a tere.

To hire he wroot yet ofte tyme al newe

Ful pitously -- he lefte it nought for slouthe --

Bisechyng hire that sithen he was trewe,

That she wol come ayeyn and holde hire trouthe.

For which Criseyde upon a day, for routhe --

I take it so -- touchyng al this matere,

Wrot hym ayeyn, and seyde as ye may here:

1590 "Cupides sone, ensample of goodlyheede,

O swerd of knyghthod, sours of gentilesse,

How myght a wight in torment and in drede

And heleles, yow sende as yet gladnesse?

I herteles, I sik, I in destresse!

Syn ye with me, nor I with yow, may dele,

Yow neyther sende ich herte may nor hele.

"Youre lettres ful, the papir al ypleynted,

Conceyved hath myn hertes pietee.

I have ek seyn with teris al depeynted

1600 Youre lettre, and how that ye requeren me

To come ayeyn, which yet ne may nat be;

But whi, lest that this lettre founden were,

No mencioun ne make I now, for feere.

"Grevous to me, God woot, is youre unreste,

Youre haste, and that the goddes ordinaunce

It semeth nat ye take it for the beste.

Nor other thyng nys in youre remembraunce,

As thynketh me, but only youre plesaunce.

But beth nat wroth, and that I yow biseche;

1610 For that I tarie is al for wikked speche.

"For I have herd wel moore than I wende,

Touchyng us two, how thynges han ystonde,

Which I shal with dissymelyng amende.

And beth nat wroth, I have ek understonde

How ye ne do but holden me in honde.

But now no force. I kan nat in yow gesse

But alle trouthe and alle gentilesse.

"Come I wole; but yet in swich disjoynte

I stonde as now that what yer or what day

1620 That this shal be, that kan I naught apoynte.

But in effect I pray yow, as I may,

Of youre good word and of youre frendship ay;

For trewely, while that my lif may dure,

As for a frend ye may in me assure.

"Yet preye ich yow, on yvel ye ne take

That it is short which that I to yow write;

I dar nat, ther I am, wel lettres make,

Ne nevere yet ne koude I wel endite.

Ek gret effect men write in place lite;

1630 Th' entente is al, and nat the lettres space.

And fareth now wel. God have yow in his grace! La vostre Tr 5 C."

This Troilus this lettre thoughte al straunge

Whan he it saugh, and sorwfullich he sighte;

Hym thoughte it lik a kalendes of chaunge.

But fynaly, he ful ne trowen myghte

That she ne wolde hym holden that she hyghte;

For with ful yvel wille list hym to leve

That loveth wel, in swich cas, though hym greve.

But natheles men seyen that at the laste,

1640 For any thyng, men shal the soothe se;

And swich a cas bitidde, and that as faste,

That Troilus wel understod that she

Nas nought so kynde as that hire oughte be.

And fynaly, he woot now out of doute

That al is lost that he hath ben aboute.

Stood on a day in his malencolie

This Troilus, and in suspecioun

Of hire for whom he wende for to dye.

And so bifel that thorughout Troye town,

1650 As was the gise, iborn was up and down

A manere cote-armure, as seith the storie,

Byforn Deiphebe, in signe of his victorie;

The whiche cote, as telleth Lollius,

Deiphebe it hadde rent fro Diomede

The same day. And whan this Troilus

It saugh, he gan to taken of it hede,

Avysyng of the lengthe and of the brede,

And al the werk; but as he gan byholde,

Ful sodeynly his herte gan to colde,

1660 As he that on the coler fond withinne

A broch that he Criseyde yaf that morwe

That she from Troie moste nedes twynne,

In remembraunce of hym and of his sorwe.

And she hym leyde ayeyn hire feith to borwe

To kepe it ay! But now ful wel he wiste,

His lady nas no lenger on to triste.

He goth hym hom and gan ful soone sende

For Pandarus, and al this newe chaunce,

And of this broche, he tolde hym word and ende,

1670 Compleynyng of hire hertes variaunce,

His longe love, his trouthe, and his penaunce.

And after deth, withouten wordes moore,

Ful faste he cride, his reste hym to restore.

Than spak he thus, "O lady myn, Criseyde,

Where is youre feith, and where is youre biheste?

Where is youre love? Where is youre trouthe?" he seyde.

"Of Diomede have ye now al this feeste!

Allas, I wolde han trowed atte leeste

That syn ye nolde in trouthe to me stonde,

1680 That ye thus nolde han holden me in honde!

"Who shal now trowe on any othes mo?

Allas, I nevere wolde han wend, er this,

That ye, Criseyde, koude han chaunged so;

Ne, but I hadde agilt and don amys,

So cruel wende I nought youre herte, ywis,

To sle me thus! Allas, youre name of trouthe

Is now fordon, and that is al my routhe.

"Was ther non other broch yow liste lete

To feffe with youre newe love," quod he,

1690 "But thilke broch that I, with teris wete,

Yow yaf as for a remembraunce of me?

Non other cause, allas, ne hadde ye

But for despit, and ek for that ye mente

Al outrely to shewen youre entente.

"Thorugh which I se that clene out of youre mynde

Ye han me cast -- and I ne kan nor may,

For al this world, withinne myn herte fynde

To unloven yow a quarter of a day!

In corsed tyme I born was, weilaway,

1700 That yow, that doon me al this wo endure,

Yet love I best of any creature!

"Now God," quod he, "me sende yet the grace

That I may meten with this Diomede!

And trewely, if I have myght and space,

Yet shal I make, I hope, his sydes blede.

O God," quod he, "that oughtest taken heede

To fortheren trouthe, and wronges to punyce,

Whi nyltow don a vengeaunce of this vice?

"O Pandarus, that in dremes for to triste

1710 Me blamed hast, and wont art oft upbreyde,

Now maistow sen thiself, if that the liste,

How trewe is now thi nece, bright Criseyde!

In sondry formes, God it woot," he seyde,

"The goddes shewen bothe joie and tene

In slep, and by my drem it is now sene.

"And certeynly, withouten moore speche,

From hennesforth, as ferforth as I may,

Myn owen deth in armes wol I seche;

I recche nat how soone be the day!

1720 But trewely, Criseyde, swete may,

Whom I have ay with al my myght yserved,

That ye thus doon, I have it nat deserved."

This Pandarus, that al thise thynges herde,

And wiste wel he seyde a soth of this,

He nought a word ayeyn to hym answerde;

For sory of his frendes sorwe he is,

And shamed for his nece hath don amys,

And stant, astoned of thise causes tweye,

As stille as ston; a word ne kowde he seye.

1730 But at the laste thus he spak, and seyde:

"My brother deer, I may do the namore.

What sholde I seyen? I hate, ywys, Cryseyde;

And, God woot, I wol hate hire evermore!

And that thow me bisoughtest don of yoore,

Havyng unto myn honour ne my reste

Right no reward, I dide al that the leste.

"If I dide aught that myghte liken the,

It is me lief; and of this tresoun now,

God woot that it a sorwe is unto me!

1740 And dredeles, for hertes ese of yow,

Right fayn I wolde amende it, wiste I how.

And fro this world, almyghty God I preye

Delivere hire soon! I kan namore seye."

Gret was the sorwe and pleynte of Troilus,

But forth hire cours Fortune ay gan to holde.

Criseyde loveth the sone of Tideus,

And Troilus moot wepe in cares colde.

Swich is this world, whoso it kan byholde;

In ech estat is litel hertes reste.

1750 God leve us for to take it for the beste!

In many cruel bataille, out of drede,

Of Troilus, this ilke noble knyght,

As men may in thise olde bokes rede,

Was seen his knyghthod and his grete myght;

And dredeles, his ire, day and nyght,

Ful cruwely the Grekis ay aboughte;

And alwey moost this Diomede he soughte.

And ofte tyme, I fynde that they mette

With blody strokes and with wordes grete,

1760 Assayinge how hire speres weren whette;

And, God it woot, with many a cruel hete

Gan Troilus upon his helm to bete!

But natheles, Fortune it naught ne wolde

Of oothers hond that eyther deyen sholde.

And if I hadde ytaken for to write

The armes of this ilke worthi man,

Than wolde ich of his batailles endite;

But for that I to writen first bigan

Of his love, I have seyd as I kan --

1770 His worthi dedes, whoso list hem heere,

Rede Dares, he kan telle hem alle ifeere --

Bysechyng every lady bright of hewe,

And every gentil womman, what she be,

That al be that Criseyde was untrewe,

That for that gilt she be nat wroth with me.

Ye may hire gilt in other bokes se;

And gladlier I wol write, yif yow leste,

Penolopees trouthe and good Alceste.

N' y sey nat this al oonly for thise men,

1780 But moost for wommen that bitraised be

Thorugh false folk -- God yeve hem sorwe, amen! --

That with hire grete wit and subtilte

Bytraise yow. And this commeveth me

To speke, and in effect yow alle I preye,

Beth war of men, and herkneth what I seye!

Go, litel bok, go, litel myn tragedye,

Ther God thi makere yet, er that he dye,

So sende myght to make in som comedye!

But litel book, no makyng thow n' envie,

1790 But subgit be to alle poesye;

And kis the steppes where as thow seest pace

Virgile, Ovide, Omer, Lucan, and Stace.

And for ther is so gret diversite

In Englissh and in writyng of oure tonge,

So prey I God that non myswrite the,

Ne the mysmetre for defaute of tonge;

And red wherso thow be, or elles songe,

That thow be understonde, God I biseche!

But yet to purpos of my rather speche:

1800 The wrath, as I bigan yow for to seye,

Of Troilus the Grekis boughten deere,

For thousandes his hondes maden deye,

As he that was withouten any peere,

Save Ector, in his tyme, as I kan heere.

But -- weilawey, save only Goddes wille,

Despitously hym slough the fierse Achille.

And whan that he was slayn in this manere,

His lighte goost ful blisfully is went

Up to the holughnesse of the eighthe spere,

1810 In convers letyng everich element;

And ther he saugh with ful avysement

The erratik sterres, herkenyng armonye

With sownes ful of hevenyssh melodie.

And down from thennes faste he gan avyse

This litel spot of erthe that with the se

Embraced is, and fully gan despise

This wrecched world, and held al vanite

To respect of the pleyn felicite

That is in hevene above; and at the laste,

1820 Ther he was slayn his lokyng down he caste,

And in hymself he lough right at the wo

Of hem that wepten for his deth so faste,

And dampned al oure werk that foloweth so

The blynde lust, the which that may nat laste,

And sholden al oure herte on heven caste;

And forth he wente, shortly for to telle,

1827 Ther as Mercurye sorted hym to dwelle.

Swich fyn hath, lo, this Troilus for love!

Swich fyn hath al his grete worthynesse!

1830 Swich fyn hath his estat real above!

Swich fyn his lust, swich fyn hath his noblesse!

Swych fyn hath false worldes brotelnesse!

And thus bigan his lovyng of Criseyde,

As I have told, and in this wise he deyde.

O yonge, fresshe folkes, he or she,

In which that love up groweth with youre age,

Repeyreth hom fro worldly vanyte,

And of youre herte up casteth the visage

To thilke God that after his ymage

1840 Yow made, and thynketh al nys but a faire,

This world that passeth soone as floures faire.

And loveth hym the which that right for love

Upon a crois, oure soules for to beye,

1844 First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene above;

For he nyl falsen no wight, dar I seye,

That wol his herte al holly on hym leye.

And syn he best to love is, and most meke,

What nedeth feynede loves for to seke?

Lo here, of payens corsed olde rites!

1850 Lo here, what alle hire goddes may availle!

Lo here, thise wrecched worldes appetites!

Lo here, the fyn and guerdoun for travaille

Of Jove, Appollo, of Mars, of swich rascaille!

Lo here, the forme of olde clerkis speche

In poetrie, if ye hire bokes seche.

O moral Gower, this book I directe

To the and to the, philosophical Strode,

To vouchen sauf, ther nede is, to correcte,

Of youre benignites and zeles goode.

1860 And to that sothfast Crist, that starf on rode,

With al myn herte of mercy evere I preye,

And to the Lord right thus I speke and seye:

Thow oon, and two, and thre, eterne on lyve,

That regnest ay in thre, and two, and oon,

Uncircumscript, and al maist circumscrive,

Us from visible and invisible foon

Defende, and to thy mercy, everichon,

So make us, Jesus, for thi mercy, digne,

For love of mayde and moder thyn benigne.

1870 Amen.

THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN

PROLOGUE F

A thousand tymes have I herd men telle

That ther ys joy in hevene and peyne in helle,

And I acorde wel that it ys so;

But, natheles, yet wot I wel also

That ther nis noon dwellyng in this contree

That eyther hath in hevene or helle ybe,

Ne may of hit noon other weyes witen

But as he hath herd seyd or founde it writen;

For by assay ther may no man it preve.

10 But God forbede but men shulde leve

Wel more thing than men han seen with ye!

Men shal not wenen every thing a lye

But yf himself yt seeth or elles dooth.

For, God wot, thing is never the lasse sooth,

Thogh every wight ne may it nat ysee.

Bernard the monk ne saugh nat all, pardee!

Than mote we to bokes that we fynde,

Thurgh whiche that olde thinges ben in mynde,

And to the doctrine of these olde wyse,

20 Yeve credence, in every skylful wise,

That tellen of these olde appreved stories

Of holynesse, of regnes, of victories,

Of love, of hate, of other sondry thynges,

Of whiche I may not maken rehersynges.

And yf that olde bokes were aweye,

Yloren were of remembraunce the keye.

Wel ought us thanne honouren and beleve

These bokes, there we han noon other preve.

And as for me, though that I konne but lyte,

30 On bokes for to rede I me delyte,

And to hem yive I feyth and ful credence,

And in myn herte have hem in reverence

So hertely, that ther is game noon

That fro my bokes maketh me to goon,

But yt be seldom on the holyday,

Save, certeynly, whan that the month of May

Is comen, and that I here the foules synge,

And that the floures gynnen for to sprynge,

Farewel my bok and my devocioun!

40 Now have I thanne eek this condicioun,

That, of al the floures in the mede,

Thanne love I most thise floures white and rede,

Swiche as men callen daysyes in our toun.

To hem have I so gret affeccioun,

As I seyde erst, whanne comen is the May,

That in my bed ther daweth me no day

That I nam up and walkyng in the mede

To seen this flour ayein the sonne sprede,

Whan it upryseth erly by the morwe.

50 That blisful sighte softneth al my sorwe,

So glad am I, whan that I have presence

Of it, to doon it alle reverence,

As she that is of alle floures flour,

Fulfilled of al vertu and honour,

And evere ilyke faire and fressh of hewe;

And I love it, and ever ylike newe,

And evere shal, til that myn herte dye.

Al swere I nat, of this I wol nat lye;

Ther loved no wight hotter in his lyve.

60 And whan that hit ys eve, I renne blyve,

As sone as evere the sonne gynneth weste,

To seen this flour, how it wol go to reste,

For fere of nyght, so hateth she derknesse.

Hire chere is pleynly sprad in the brightnesse

Of the sonne, for ther yt wol unclose.

Allas, that I ne had Englyssh, ryme or prose,

Suffisant this flour to preyse aryght!

But helpeth, ye that han konnyng and myght,

Ye lovers that kan make of sentement;

70 In this cas oghte ye be diligent

To forthren me somwhat in my labour,

Whethir ye ben with the leef or with the flour.

For wel I wot that ye han her-biforn

Of makyng ropen, and lad awey the corn,

And I come after, glenyng here and there,

And am ful glad yf I may fynde an ere

Of any goodly word that ye han left.

And thogh it happen me rehercen eft

That ye han in your fresshe songes sayd,

80 Forbereth me, and beth nat evele apayd,

Syn that ye see I do yt in the honour

Of love, and eke in service of the flour

Whom that I serve as I have wit or myght.

She is the clernesse and the verray lyght

That in this derke world me wynt and ledeth.

The hert in-with my sorwfull brest yow dredeth

And loveth so sore that ye ben verrayly

The maistresse of my wit, and nothing I.

My word, my werk ys knyt so in youre bond

90 That, as an harpe obeieth to the hond

And maketh it soune after his fyngerynge,

Ryght so mowe ye oute of myn herte bringe

Swich vois, ryght as yow lyst, to laughe or pleyne.

Be ye my gide and lady sovereyne!

As to myn erthly god to yow I calle,

Bothe in this werk and in my sorwes alle.

But wherfore that I spak, to yive credence

To olde stories and doon hem reverence,

And that men mosten more thyng beleve

100 Then men may seen at eye, or elles preve --

That shal I seyn, whanne that I see my tyme;

I may not al at-ones speke in ryme.

My besy gost, that thursteth alwey newe

To seen this flour so yong, so fressh of hewe,

Constreyned me with so gledy desir

That in myn herte I feele yet the fir

That made me to ryse er yt were day --

And this was now the firste morwe of May --

With dredful hert and glad devocioun,

110 For to ben at the resureccioun

Of this flour, whan that yt shulde unclose

Agayn the sonne, that roos as red as rose,

That in the brest was of the beste, that day,

That Agenores doghtre ladde away.

And doun on knes anoon-ryght I me sette,

And, as I koude, this fresshe flour I grette,

Knelyng alwey, til it unclosed was,

Upon the smale, softe, swote gras,

That was with floures swote enbrouded al,

120 Of swich swetnesse and swich odour overal,

That, for to speke of gomme, or herbe, or tree,

Comparisoun may noon ymaked bee;

For yt surmounteth pleynly alle odoures,

And of riche beaute alle floures.

Forgeten hadde the erthe his pore estat

Of wynter, that hym naked made and mat,

And with his swerd of cold so sore greved;

Now hath th' atempre sonne all that releved,

That naked was, and clad him new agayn.

130 The smale foules, of the sesoun fayn,

That from the panter and the net ben scaped,

Upon the foweler, that hem made awhaped

In wynter, and distroyed hadde hire brood,

In his dispit hem thoghte yt did hem good

To synge of hym, and in hir song despise

The foule cherl that, for his coveytise,

Had hem betrayed with his sophistrye.

This was hire song: "The foweler we deffye,

And al his craft." And somme songen clere

140 Layes of love, that joye it was to here,

In worship and in preysinge of hir make;

And for the newe blisful somers sake,

Upon the braunches ful of blosmes softe,

In hire delyt they turned hem ful ofte,

And songen, "Blessed be Seynt Valentyn,

For on his day I chees yow to be myn,

Withouten repentyng, myn herte swete!"

And therwithalle hire bekes gonnen meete,

Yeldyng honour and humble obeysaunces

150 To love, and diden hire other observaunces

That longeth onto love and to nature;

Construeth that as yow lyst, I do no cure.

And thoo that hadde doon unkyndenesse --

As dooth the tydif, for newfangelnesse --

Besoghte mercy of hir trespassynge,

And humblely songen hire repentynge,

And sworen on the blosmes to be trewe

So that hire makes wolde upon hem rewe,

And at the laste maden hire acord.

160 Al founde they Daunger for a tyme a lord,

Yet Pitee, thurgh his stronge gentil myght,

Forgaf, and made Mercy passen Ryght,

Thurgh innocence and ruled Curtesye.

But I ne clepe nat innocence folye,

Ne fals pitee, for vertu is the mene,

As Etik seith. in swich maner I mene.

And thus thise foweles, voide of al malice,

Acordeden to love, and laften vice

Of hate, and songen alle of oon acord,

170 "Welcome, somer, oure governour and lord!"

And Zepherus and Flora gentilly

Yaf to the floures, softe and tenderly,

Hire swoote breth, and made hem for to sprede,

As god and goddesse of the floury mede;

In which me thoghte I myghte, day by day,

Duellen alwey, the joly month of May,

Withouten slep, withouten mete or drynke.

Adoun ful softely I gan to synke,

And, lenynge on myn elbowe and my syde,

180 The longe day I shoop me for t' abide

For nothing elles, and I shal nat lye,

But for to loke upon the dayesie,

That wel by reson men it calle may

The "dayesye," or elles the "ye of day,"

The emperice and flour of floures alle.

I pray to God that faire mote she falle,

And alle that loven floures, for hire sake!

But natheles, ne wene nat that I make

In preysing of the flour agayn the leef,

190 No more than of the corn agayn the sheef;

For, as to me, nys lever noon ne lother.

I nam withholden yit with never nother;

Ne I not who serveth leef ne who the flour.

Wel browken they her service or labour;

For this thing is al of another tonne,

Of olde storye, er swich stryf was begonne.

Whan that the sonne out of the south gan weste,

And that this flour gan close and goon to reste

For derknesse of the nyght, the which she dredde,

200 Hom to myn hous ful swiftly I me spedde

To goon to reste, and erly for to ryse,

To seen this flour to sprede, as I devyse.

And in a litel herber that I have,

That benched was on turves fressh ygrave,

I bad men sholde me my couche make;

For deyntee of the newe someres sake,

I bad hem strawen floures on my bed.

Whan I was leyd and had myn eyen hed,

I fel on slepe within an houre or twoo.

210 Me mette how I lay in the medewe thoo,

To seen this flour that I so love and drede;

And from afer com walkyng in the mede

The god of Love, and in his hand a quene,

And she was clad in real habit grene.

A fret of gold she hadde next her heer,

And upon that a whit corowne she beer

With flourouns smale, and I shal nat lye;

For al the world, ryght as a dayesye

Ycorouned ys with white leves lyte,

220 So were the flowrouns of hire coroune white.

For of o perle fyn, oriental,

Hire white coroune was ymaked al;

For which the white coroune above the grene

Made hire lyk a daysie for to sene,

Considered eke hir fret of gold above.

Yclothed was this myghty god of Love

In silk, enbrouded ful of grene greves,

In-with a fret of rede rose-leves,

The fresshest syn the world was first bygonne.

230 His gilte heer was corowned with a sonne

Instede of gold, for hevynesse and wyghte.

Therwith me thoghte his face shoon so bryghte

That wel unnethes myghte I him beholde;

And in his hand me thoghte I saugh him holde

Twoo firy dartes as the gledes rede,

And aungelyke hys wynges saugh I sprede.

And al be that men seyn that blynd ys he,

Algate me thoghte that he myghte se;

For sternely on me he gan byholde,

240 So that his loking dooth myn herte colde.

And by the hand he held this noble quene

Corowned with whit and clothed al in grene,

So womanly, so benigne, and so meke,

That in this world, thogh that men wolde seke,

Half hire beaute shulde men nat fynde

In creature that formed ys by kynde.

And therfore may I seyn, as thynketh me,

This song in preysyng of this lady fre:

Hyd, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere;

250 Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al adown;

Hyd, Jonathas, al thy frendly manere;

Penalopee and Marcia Catoun,

Make of youre wifhod no comparysoun;

Hyde ye youre beautes, Ysoude and Eleyne:

My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.

Thy faire body, lat yt nat appere,

Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun,

And Polixene, that boghten love so dere,

And Cleopatre, with al thy passyoun,

260 Hyde ye your trouthe of love and your renoun;

And thou, Tisbe, that hast for love swich peyne:

My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.

Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle yfere,

And Phillis, hangyng for thy Demophoun,

And Canace, espied by thy chere,

Ysiphile, betrayed with Jasoun,

Maketh of your trouthe neythir boost ne soun;

Nor Ypermystre or Adriane, ye tweyne:

My lady cometh, that al this may dysteyne.

270 This balade may ful wel ysongen be,

As I have seyd erst, by my lady free;

For certeynly al thise mowe nat suffise

To apperen wyth my lady in no wyse.

For as the sonne wole the fyr disteyne,

So passeth al my lady sovereyne,

That ys so good, so faire, so debonayre,

I prey to God that ever falle hire faire!

For, nadde comfort ben of hire presence,

I hadde ben ded, withouten any defence,

280 For drede of Loves wordes and his chere,

As, when tyme ys, herafter ye shal here.

Behynde this god of Love, upon the grene,

I saugh comyng of ladyes nyntene,

In real habit, a ful esy paas,

And after hem coome of wymen swich a traas

That, syn that God Adam hadde mad of erthe,

The thridde part, of mankynde, or the ferthe,

Ne wende I not by possibilitee

Had ever in this wide world ybee;

290 And trewe of love thise women were echon.

Now wheither was that a wonder thing or non,

That ryght anoon as that they gonne espye

Thys flour which that I clepe the dayesie,

Ful sodeynly they stynten al attones,

And kneled doun, as it were for the nones,

And songen with o vois, "Heel and honour

To trouthe of womanhede, and to this flour

That bereth our alder pris in figurynge!

Hire white corowne bereth the witnessynge."

300 And with that word, a-compas enviroun,

They setten hem ful softely adoun.

First sat the god of Love, and syth his quene

With the white corowne, clad in grene,

And sithen al the remenaunt by and by,

As they were of estaat, ful curteysly;

Ne nat a word was spoken in the place

The mountaunce of a furlong wey of space.

I, knelying by this flour, in good entente,

Abood to knowen what this peple mente,

310 As stille as any ston; til at the laste

This god of Love on me hys eyen caste,

And seyde, "Who kneleth there?" And I answerde

Unto his askynge, whan that I it herde,

And seyde, "Sir, it am I," and com him ner,

And salwed him. Quod he, "What dostow her

So nygh myn oune floure, so boldely?

Yt were better worthy, trewely,

A worm to neghen ner my flour than thow."

"And why, sire," quod I, "and yt lyke yow?"

320 "For thow," quod he, "art therto nothing able.

Yt is my relyke, digne and delytable,

And thow my foo, and al my folk werreyest,

And of myn olde servauntes thow mysseyest,

And hynderest hem with thy translacioun,

And lettest folk from hire devocioun

To serve me, and holdest it folye

To serve Love. Thou maist yt nat denye,

For in pleyn text, withouten nede of glose,

Thou hast translated the Romaunce of the Rose,

330 That is an heresye ayeins my lawe,

And makest wise folk fro me withdrawe;

And of Creseyde thou hast seyd as the lyste,

That maketh men to wommen lasse triste,

That ben as trewe as ever was any steel.

Of thyn answere avise the ryght weel;

For thogh thou reneyed hast my lay,

As other wrecches han doon many a day,

By Seynt Venus that my moder ys,

If that thou lyve, thou shalt repenten this

340 So cruelly that it shal wel be sene!"

Thoo spak this lady, clothed al in grene,

And seyde, "God, ryght of youre curtesye,

Ye moten herken yf he can replye

Agayns al this that ye have to him meved.

A god ne sholde nat thus be agreved,

But of hys deitee he shal be stable,

And therto gracious and merciable.

And yf ye nere a god, that knowen al,

Thanne myght yt be as I yow tellen shal:

350 This man to yow may falsly ben accused

That as by right him oughte ben excused.

For in youre court ys many a losengeour,

And many a queynte totelere accusour,

That tabouren in youre eres many a sown,

Ryght after hire ymagynacioun,

To have youre daliance, and for envie.

Thise ben the causes, and I shal not lye.

Envie ys lavendere of the court alway,

For she ne parteth, neither nyght ne day,

360 Out of the hous of Cesar; thus seith Dante;

Whoso that gooth, algate she wol nat wante.

And eke, peraunter, for this man ys nyce,

He myghte doon yt, gessyng no malice,

But for he useth thynges for to make;

Hym rekketh noght of what matere he take.

Or him was boden maken thilke tweye

Of som persone, and durste yt nat withseye;

Or him repenteth outrely of this.

He ne hath nat doon so grevously amys

370 To translaten that olde clerkes writen,

As thogh that he of malice wolde enditen

Despit of love, and had himself yt wroght.

This shoolde a ryghtwis lord have in his thoght,

And nat be lyk tirauntz of Lumbardye,

That han no reward but at tyrannye.

For he that kynge or lord ys naturel,

Hym oghte nat be tiraunt ne crewel

As is a fermour, to doon the harm he kan.

He moste thinke yt is his lige man,

380 And is his tresour and his gold in cofre.

This is the sentence of the Philosophre,

A kyng to kepe his liges in justice;

Withouten doute, that is his office.

Al wol he kepe his lordes hire degree,

As it ys ryght and skilful that they bee

Enhaunced and honoured, and most dere --

For they ben half-goddes in this world here --

Yit mot he doon bothe ryght, to poore and ryche,

Al be that hire estaat be nat yliche,

390 And han of poore folk compassyoun.

For loo, the gentil kynde of the lyoun:

For whan a flye offendeth him or biteth,

He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth

Al esely; for, of hys genterye,

Hym deyneth not to wreke hym on a flye,

As dooth a curre, or elles another best.

In noble corage ought ben arest,

And weyen every thing by equytee,

And ever have reward to his owen degree.

400 For, syr, yt is no maistrye for a lord

To dampne a man without answere of word,

And for a lord that is ful foul to use.

And if so be he may hym nat excuse,

But asketh mercy with a dredeful herte,

And profereth him, ryght in his bare sherte,

To ben ryght at your owen jugement,

Than oght a god by short avysement

Consydre his owne honour and hys trespas.

For, syth no cause of deth lyeth in this caas,

410 Yow oghte to ben the lyghter merciable;

Leteth youre ire, and beth sumwhat tretable.

The man hath served yow of his kunnynge,

And furthred wel youre lawe in his makynge.

Al be hit that he kan nat wel endite,

Yet hath he maked lewed folk delyte

To serve yow, in preysinge of your name.

He made the book that hight the Hous of Fame,

And eke the Deeth of Blaunche the Duchesse,

And the Parlement of Foules, as I gesse,

420 And al the love of Palamon and Arcite

Of Thebes, thogh the storye ys knowen lyte;

And many an ympne for your halydayes,

That highten balades, roundels, virelayes;

And, for to speke of other holynesse,

He hath in prose translated Boece,

And maad the lyf also of Seynt Cecile.

He made also, goon ys a gret while,

Origenes upon the Maudeleyne.

Hym oughte now to have the lesse peyne;

430 He hath maad many a lay and many a thing.

Now as ye be a god and eke a kyng,

I, your Alceste, whilom quene of Trace,

Y aske yow this man, ryght of your grace,

That ye him never hurte in al his lyve;

And he shal swere to yow, and that as blyve,

He shal no more agilten in this wyse,

But he shal maken, as ye wol devyse,

Of wommen trewe in lovyng al hire lyve,

Wherso ye wol, of mayden or of wyve,

440 And forthren yow as muche as he mysseyde

Or in the Rose or elles in Creseyde."

The god of Love answerede hire thus anoon:

"Madame," quod he, "it is so long agoon

That I yow knew so charitable and trewe,

That never yit syn that the world was newe

To me ne fond y better noon than yee.

If that I wol save my degree,

I may, ne wol, nat werne your requeste.

Al lyeth in yow, dooth wyth hym what yow leste.

450 I al foryeve, withouten lenger space;

For whoso yeveth a yifte or dooth a grace,

Do it by tyme, his thank ys wel the more.

And demeth ye what he shal doo therfore.

Goo thanke now my lady here," quod he.

I roos, and doun I sette me on my knee,

And seyde thus: "Madame, the God above

Foryelde yow that ye the god of Love

Han maked me his wrathe to foryive,

And yeve me grace so longe for to lyve

460 That I may knowe soothly what ye bee

That han me holpe and put in this degree.

But trewly I wende, as in this cas,

Naught have agilt, ne doon to love trespas.

For-why a trewe man, withouten drede,

Hath nat to parten with a theves dede;

Ne a trewe lover oght me not to blame

Thogh that I speke a fals lovere som shame.

They oghte rather with me for to holde

For that I of Creseyde wroot or tolde,

470 Or of the Rose; what so myn auctour mente,

Algate, God woot, yt was myn entente

To forthren trouthe in love and yt cheryce,

And to ben war fro falsnesse and fro vice

By swich ensample; this was my menynge."

And she answerde, "Lat be thyn arguynge,

For Love ne wol nat countrepleted be

In ryght ne wrong; and lerne that at me!

Thow hast thy grace, and hold the ryght therto.

Now wol I seyn what penance thou shalt do

480 For thy trespas. Understonde yt here:

Thow shalt, while that thou lyvest, yer by yere,

The moste partye of thy tyme spende

In makyng of a glorious legende

Of goode wymmen, maydenes and wyves,

That weren trewe in lovyng al hire lyves;

And telle of false men that hem bytraien,

That al hir lyf ne don nat but assayen

How many women they may doon a shame;

For in youre world that is now holde a game.

490 And thogh the lyke nat a lovere bee,

Speke wel of love; this penance yive I thee.

And to the god of Love I shal so preye

That he shal charge his servantz by any weye

To forthren thee, and wel thy labour quyte.

Goo now thy wey, this penaunce ys but lyte.

And whan this book ys maad, yive it the quene,

On my byhalf, at Eltham or at Sheene."

The god of Love gan smyle, and than he sayde:

"Wostow," quod he, "wher this be wyf or mayde,

500 Or queene, or countesse, or of what degre,

That hath so lytel penance yiven thee,

That hast deserved sorer for to smerte?

But pite renneth soone in gentil herte;

That maistow seen; she kytheth what she ys."

And I answered, "Nay, sire, so have I blys,

No moore but that I see wel she is good."

"That is a trewe tale, by myn hood!"

Quod Love; "And that thou knowest wel, pardee,

If yt be so that thou avise the.

510 Hastow nat in a book, lyth in thy cheste,

The grete goodnesse of the quene Alceste,

That turned was into a dayesye;

She that for hire housbonde chees to dye,

And eke to goon to helle, rather than he,

And Ercules rescowed hire, parde,

And broght hir out of helle agayn to blys?"

And I answerd ageyn, and sayde, "Yis,

Now knowe I hire. And is this good Alceste,

The dayesie, and myn owene hertes reste?

520 Now fele I weel the goodnesse of this wyf,

That both aftir hir deth and in hir lyf

Hir grete bounte doubleth hire renoun.

Wel hath she quyt me myn affeccioun

That I have to hire flour, the dayesye.

No wonder ys thogh Jove hire stellyfye,

As telleth Agaton, for hire goodnesse!

Hire white corowne berith of hyt witnesse;

For also many vertues hadde shee

As smale florouns in hire corowne bee.

530 In remembraunce of hire and in honour

Cibella maade the daysye and the flour

Ycrowned al with whit, as men may see;

And Mars yaf to hire corowne reed, pardee,

In stede of rubyes, sette among the white."

Therwith this queene wex reed for shame a lyte

Whan she was preysed so in hire presence.

Thanne seyde Love, "A ful gret necligence

Was yt to the, that ylke tyme thou made

`Hyd, Absolon, thy tresses,' in balade,

540 That thou forgate hire in thi song to sette,

Syn that thou art so gretly in hire dette,

And wost so wel that kalender ys shee

To any woman that wol lover bee.

For she taught al the craft of fyn lovynge,

And namely of wyfhod the lyvynge,

And al the boundes that she oghte kepe.

Thy litel wit was thilke tyme aslepe.

But now I charge the upon thy lyf

That in thy legende thou make of thys wyf

550 Whan thou hast other smale ymaad before;

And far now wel, I charge the namore.

But er I goo, thus muche I wol the telle:

Ne shal no trewe lover come in helle.

Thise other ladies sittynge here arowe

Ben in thy balade, yf thou kanst hem knowe,

And in thy bookes alle thou shalt hem fynde.

Have hem now in thy legende al in mynde;

I mene of hem that ben in thy knowynge.

For here ben twenty thousand moo sittynge

560 Than thou knowest, goode wommen alle,

And trewe of love for oght that may byfalle.

Make the metres of hem as the lest --

I mot goon hom (the sonne draweth west)

To paradys, with al this companye --

And serve alwey the fresshe dayesye.

At Cleopatre I wol that thou begynne,

And so forth, and my love so shal thou wynne.

For lat see now what man that lover be,

Wol doon so strong a peyne for love as she.

570 I wot wel that thou maist nat al yt ryme

That swiche lovers diden in hire tyme;

It were to long to reden and to here.

Suffiseth me thou make in this manere:

That thou reherce of al hir lyf the grete,

After thise olde auctours lysten for to trete.

For whoso shal so many a storye telle,

Sey shortly, or he shal to longe dwelle."

And with that word my bokes gan I take,

And ryght thus on my Legende gan I make.

PROLOGUE G

A thousand sythes have I herd men telle

That there is joye in hevene and peyne in helle,

And I acorde wel that it be so;

But natheles, this wot I wel also,

That there ne is non that dwelleth in this contre

That eyther hath in helle or hevene ybe,

Ne may of it non other weyes witen

But as he hath herd seyd or founde it writen;

For by assay there may no man it preve.

10 But Goddes forbode but men shulde leve

Wel more thyng than men han seyn with ye!

Men shal nat wenen every thyng a lye

For that he say it nat of yore ago.

God wot a thyng is nevere the lesse so

Thow every wyght ne may it nat yse.

Bernard the monk ne say nat al, parde!

Thanne mote we to bokes that we fynde,

Thourgh whiche that olde thynges ben in mynde,

And to the doctryne of these olde wyse

20 Yeven credence, in every skylful wyse,

And trowen on these olde aproved storyes

Of holynesse, of regnes, of victoryes,

Of love, of hate, of othere sondry thynges,

Of which I may nat make rehersynges.

And if that olde bokes weren aweye,

Yloren were of remembrance the keye.

Wel oughte us thanne on olde bokes leve,

There as there is non other assay by preve.

And as for me, though that my wit be lite,

30 On bokes for to rede I me delyte,

And in myn herte have hem in reverence,

And to hem yeve swich lust and swich credence

That there is wel unethe game non

That fro my bokes make me to gon,

But it be other upon the halyday,

Or ellis in the joly tyme of May,

Whan that I here the smale foules synge,

And that the floures gynne for to sprynge.

Farwel my stodye, as lastynge that sesoun!

40 Now have I therto this condicioun,

That, of alle the floures in the mede,

Thanne love I most these floures white and rede,

Swyche as men calle dayesyes in oure toun.

To hem have I so gret affeccioun,

As I seyde erst, whan comen is the May,

That in my bed there daweth me no day

That I n' am up and walkynge in the mede

To sen these floures agen the sonne sprede

Whan it up ryseth by the morwe shene,

50 The longe day thus walkynge in the grene.

And whan the sonne gynneth for to weste,

Thanne closeth it, and draweth it to reste,

So sore it is afered of the nyght,

Til on the morwe that it is dayes lyght.

This dayesye, of alle floures flour,

Fulfyld of vertu and of alle honour,

And evere ylike fayr and fresh of hewe,

As wel in wynter as in somer newe,

Fayn wolde I preysen, if I coude aryght;

60 But wo is me, it lyth nat in my myght.

For wel I wot that folk han here-beforn

Of makyng ropen, and lad awey the corn;

[And] I come after, glenynge here and there,

And am ful glad if I may fynde an ere

Of any goodly word that they han left.

And if it happe me rehersen eft

That they han in here freshe songes said,

I hope that they wole nat ben evele apayd,

Sith it is seyd in fortheryng and honour

70 Of hem that eyther serven lef or flour.

For trusteth wel, I ne have nat undertake

As of the lef agayn the flour to make,

Ne of the flour to make ageyn the lef,

No more than of the corn agen the shef;

For, as to me, is lefer non, ne lother.

I am witholde yit with never nother;

I not who serveth lef ne who the flour.

That nys nothyng the entent of my labour.

For this werk is al of another tonne,

80 Of olde story, er swich strif was begonne.

But wherfore that I spak, to yeve credence

To bokes olde and don hem reverence,

Is for men shulde autoritees beleve,

There as there lyth non other assay by preve.

For myn entent is, or I fro yow fare,

The naked text in English to declare

Of many a story, or elles of many a geste,

As autours seyn; leveth hem if yow leste.

Whan passed was almost the month of May,

90 And I hadde romed, al the someres day,

The grene medewe, of which that I yow tolde,

Upon the freshe dayseie to beholde,

And that the sonne out of the south gan weste,

And closed was the flour and gon to reste,

For derknesse of the nyght, of which she dredde,

Hom to myn hous ful swiftly I me spedde,

And in a lytel herber that I have,

Ybenched newe with turves fresshe ygrave,

I bad men shulde me my couche make;

100 For deynte of the newe someres sake,

I bad hem strowe floures on my bed.

Whan I was layd, and hadde myn eyen hed,

I fel aslepe withinne an hour or two.

Me mette how I was in the medewe tho,

And that I romede in that same gyse,

To sen that flour, as ye han herd devyse.

Fayr was this medewe, as thoughte me, overal;

With floures sote enbrouded was it al.

As for to speke of gomme, or herbe, or tre,

110 Comparisoun may non ymaked be;

For it surmountede pleynly alle odoures,

And of ryche beaute alle floures.

Forgeten hadde the erthe his pore estat

Of wynter, that hym naked made and mat,

And with his swerd of cold so sore hadde greved.

Now hadde th' atempre sonne al that releved,

And clothed hym in grene al newe ageyn.

The smale foules, of the seson fayn,

That from the panter and the net ben skaped,

120 Upon the foulere, that hem made awhaped

In wynter, and distroyed hadde hire brod,

In his dispit hem thoughte it dide hem good

To synge of hym, and in here song despise

The foule cherl that for his coveytyse

Hadde hem betrayed with his sophistrye.

This was here song, "The foulere we defye,

[And] [al] [his] [craft]." [And] [some] [songen] [clere]

[Layes] of love that joye it was to here,

In worshipe and in preysyng of hire make;

130 And [for] the newe blysful somers sake,

[They] sungen, "Blyssed be Seynt Valentyn!

[For] [on] his day I ches yow to be myn,

Withoute repentynge, myn herte swete!"

And therwithal here bekes gonne mete,

[Yelding] honour and humble obeysaunces;

And after diden othere observaunces

Ryht [longing] onto love and to nature;

So ech of hem [doth] [wel] to creature.

This song to herkenen I dide al myn entente,

140 For-why I mette I wiste what they mente,

Tyl at the laste a larke son above:

"I se," quod she, "the myghty god of Love.

Lo! yond he cometh! I se his wynges sprede."

Tho gan I loken endelong the mede

And saw hym come, and in his hond a quene

Clothed in real habyt al of grene.

A fret of goold she hadde next hyre her

And upon that a whit corone she ber

With many floures, and I shal nat lye;

150 For al the world, ryght as the dayesye

Ycorouned is with white leves lite,

Swiche were the floures of hire coroune white.

For of o perle fyn and oryental

Hyre white coroun was ymaked al;

For which the white coroun above the grene

Made hire lyk a dayesye for to sene,

Considered ek the fret of gold above.

Yclothed was this myghty god of Love

Of silk, ybrouded ful of grene greves,

160 A garlond on his hed of rose-leves

Stiked al with lylye floures newe.

But of his face I can not seyn the hewe,

For sikerly his face shon so bryghte

That with the glem astoned was the syghte;

A furlong-wey I myhte hym not beholde.

But at the laste in hande I saw hym holde

Two firy dartes as the gleedes rede,

And aungellych hys winges gan he sprede.

And al be that men seyn that blynd is he,

170 Algate me thoughte he myghte wel yse;

For sternely on me he gan beholde,

So that his lokynge doth myn herte colde.

And by the hond he held the noble quene

Corouned with whit and clothed al in grene,

So womanly, so benygne, and so meke,

That in this world, thogh that men wolde seke,

Half hire beaute shulde men nat fynde

In creature that formed is by kynde.

Hire name was Alceste the debonayre.

180 I preye to God that evere falle she fayre,

For ne hadde confort been of hire presence,

I hadde be ded, withouten any defence,

For dred of Loves wordes and his chere,

As, whan tyme is, hereafter ye shal here.

Byhynde this god of Love, upon this grene,

I saw comynge of ladyes nyntene

In real habyt, a ful esy pas,

And after hem come of wemen swich a tras

That, syn that God Adam [had] mad of erthe,

190 The thridde part of wemen, ne the ferthe,

Ne wende I not by possibilite

Hadden evere in this [wyde] world ybe;

And trewe of love these wemen were echon.

Now whether was that a wonder thyng or non,

That ryght anon as that they gonne espye

This flour, which that I clepe the dayesye,

Ful sodeynly they stynten alle atones,

And knelede adoun, as it were for the nones.

And after that they wenten in compas,

200 Daunsynge aboute this flour an esy pas,

And songen, as it were in carole-wyse,

This balade, which that I shal yow devyse.

Hyd, Absalon, thy gilte tresses clere;

Ester, ley thow thy meknesse al adoun;

Hyd, Jonathas, al thyn frendly manere;

Penelope and Marcia Catoun,

Mak of youre wyfhod no comparisoun;

Hyde ye youre beautes, Ysoude and Eleyne:

Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne.

210 Thy fayre body, lat it nat apeere,

Laveyne; and thow, Lucresse of Rome toun,

And Polixene, that boughte love so dere,

Ek Cleopatre, with al thy passioun,

Hide ye youre trouth in love and youre renoun;

And thow, Tysbe, that hast for love swich peyne:

Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne.

Herro, Dido, Laodomya, alle in-fere,

Ek Phillis, hangynge for thy Demophoun,

And Canace, espied by thy chere,

220 Ysiphile, betrayed with Jasoun,

Mak of youre trouthe in love no bost ne soun;

Nor Ypermystre or Adriane, ne pleyne

Alceste is here, that al that may disteyne.

Whan that this balade al ysongen was,

Upon the softe and sote grene gras

They setten hem ful softely adoun,

By order alle in compas, enveroun.

Fyrst sat the god of Love, and thanne this queene

With the white corone, clad in grene,

230 And sithen al the remenant by and by,

As they were of degre, ful curteysly;

Ne nat a word was spoken in that place

The mountaunce of a furlong-wey of space.

I, lenynge faste by under a bente,

Abod to knowe what this peple mente,

As stille as any ston, til at the laste

The god of Love on me his eye caste

And seyde, "Who restith there?" And I answerde

Unto his axynge, whan that I hym herde,

240 And seyde, "Sire, it am I," and cam hym ner,

And salewede hym. Quod he, "What dost thow her

In my presence, and that so boldely?

For it were better worthi, trewely,

A worm to comen in my syght than thow."

"And why, sire," quod I, "and it lyke yow?"

"For thow," quod he, "art therto nothyng able.

My servaunts ben alle wyse and honourable.

Thow art my mortal fo and me werreyest,

And of myne olde servauntes thow mysseyest,

250 And hynderest hem with thy translacyoun,

And lettest folk to han devocyoun

To serven me, and holdest it folye

To truste on me. Thow mayst it nat denye,

For in pleyn text, it nedeth nat to glose,

Thow hast translated the Romauns of the Rose,

That is an heresye ageyns my lawe,

And makest wise folk fro me withdrawe;

And thynkest in thy wit, that is ful col,

That he nys but a verray propre fol

260 That loveth paramours to harde and hote.

Wel wot I therby thow begynnyst dote,

As olde foles whan here spiryt fayleth;

Thanne blame they folk, and wite nat what hem ayleth.

Hast thow nat mad in Englysh ek the bok

How that Crisseyde Troylus forsok,

In shewynge how that wemen han don mis?

But natheles, answere me now to this;

Why noldest thow as wel [han] seyd goodnesse

Of wemen, as thow hast seyd wikednesse?

270 Was there no good matere in thy mynde,

Ne in alle thy bokes ne coudest thow nat fynde

Som story of wemen that were goode and trewe?

Yis, God wot, sixty bokes olde and newe

Hast thow thyself, alle ful of storyes grete,

That bothe Romayns and ek Grekes trete

Of sundry wemen, which lyf that they ladde,

And evere an hundred goode ageyn oon badde.

This knoweth God, and alle clerkes eke

That usen swiche materes for to seke.

280 What seith Valerye, Titus, or Claudyan?

What seith Jerome agayns Jovynyan?

How clene maydenes and how trewe wyves,

How stedefaste widewes durynge alle here lyves,

Telleth Jerome, and that nat of a fewe,

But, I dar seyn, an hundred on a rewe,

That it is pite for to rede, and routhe,

The wo that they endure for here trouthe

For to hyre love were they so trewe

That, rathere than they wolde take a newe,

290 They chose to be ded in sondry wyse,

And deiden, as the story wol devyse;

And some were brend, and some were cut the hals,

And some dreynt for they wolden not be fals;

For alle keped they here maydenhede,

Or elles wedlok, or here widewehede.

And this thing was nat kept for holynesse,

But al for verray vertu and clennesse,

And for men schulde sette on hem no lak;

And yit they were hethene, al the pak,

300 That were so sore adrad of alle shame.

These olde wemen kepte so here name

That in this world I trowe men shal nat fynde

A man that coude be so trewe and kynde

As was the leste woman in that tyde.

What seyth also the epistel of Ovyde

Of trewe wyves and of here labour?

What Vincent in his Estoryal Myrour?

Ek al the world of autours maystow here,

Cristene and hethene, trete of swich matere;

310 It nedeth nat al day thus for to endite.

But yit, I seye, what eyleth the to wryte

The draf of storyes, and forgete the corn?

By Seynt Venus, of whom that I was born,

Althogh thow reneyed hast my lay,

As othere olde foles many a day,

Thow shalt repente it, so that it shal be sene!"

Thanne spak Alceste, the worthyeste queene,

And seyde, "God, ryght of youre curteysye,

Ye moten herkenen if he can replye

320 Ageyns these poynts that ye han to hym meved.

A god ne sholde not thus been agreved,

But of his deite he shal be stable,

And therto ryghtful, and ek mercyable.

He shal nat ryghtfully his yre wreke

Or he have herd the tother partye speke.

Al ne is nat gospel that is to yow pleyned;

The god of Love hereth many a tale yfeyned.

For in youre court is many a losengeour,

And many a queynte totelere accusour,

330 That tabouren in youre eres many a thyng

For hate, or for jelous ymagynyng,

And for to han with you som dalyaunce.

Envye -- I preye to God yeve hire myschaunce! --

Is lavender in the grete court alway,

For she ne parteth, neyther nyght ne day,

Out of the hous of Cesar; thus seyth Dante;

Whoso that goth, alwey she mot [nat] wante.

This man to yow may wrongly ben acused,

There as by ryght hym oughte ben excusid.

340 Or elles, sire, for that this man is nyce,

He may translate a thyng in no malyce,

But for he useth bokes for to make,

And taketh non hed of what matere he take,

Therfore he wrot the Rose and ek Crisseyde

Of innocence, and nyste what he seyde.

Or hym was boden make thilke tweye

Of som persone, and durste it not withseye;

For he hath write many a bok er this.

He ne hath not don so grevously amys

350 To translate that olde clerkes wryte,

As thogh that he of maleys wolde endyte

Despit of love, and hadde hymself ywrought.

This shulde a ryghtwys lord han in his thought,

And not ben lyk tyraunts of Lumbardye,

That usen wilfulhed and tyrannye.

For he that kyng or lord is naturel,

Hym oughte nat be tyraunt and crewel

As is a fermour, to don the harm he can.

He moste thynke it is his lige man,

360 And that hym oweth, of verray duetee,

Shewen his peple pleyn benygnete,

And wel to heren here excusacyouns,

And here compleyntes and petyciouns,

In duewe tyme, whan they shal it profre.

This is the sentence of the Philosophre,

A kyng to kepe his lyges in justice;

Withouten doute, that is his office.

And therto is a kyng ful depe ysworn

Ful many an hundred wynter herebeforn;

370 And for to kepe his lordes hir degre,

As it is ryght and skylful that they be

Enhaunsed and honoured, [and] most dere --

For they ben half-goddes in this world here --

This shal he don bothe to pore [and] ryche,

Al be that her estat be nat alyche,

And han of pore folk compassioun.

For lo, the gentyl kynde of the lyoun:

For whan a flye offendeth hym or byteth,

He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth

380 Al esyly; for, of his genterye,

Hym deyneth nat to wreke hym on a flye,

As doth a curre, or elles another best.

In noble corage oughte ben arest,

And weyen every thing by equite,

And evere han reward to his owen degre.

For, sire, it is no maystrye for a lord

To dampne a man withoute answere or word,

And, for a lord, that is ful foul to use.

And if so be he may hym nat excuse,

390 [But] axeth mercy with a sorweful herte,

And profereth hym, ryght in his bare sherte,

To been ryght at youre owene jugement,

Than ought a god, by short avisement,

Considere his owene honour and his trespas.

For syth no cause of deth lyth in this cas,

Yow oughte to ben the lyghter merciable;

Leteth youre yre, and beth somwhat tretable.

The man hath served yow of his konnynge,

And forthered [wel] youre lawe with his makynge.

400 Whil he was yong, he kepte youre estat;

I not wher he be now a renegat.

But wel I wot, with that he can endyte

He hath maked lewed folk to delyte

To serven yow, in preysynge of youre name.

He made the bok that highte the Hous of Fame,

And ek the Deth of Blaunche the Duchesse,

And the Parlement of Foules, as I gesse,

And al the love of Palamon and Arcite

Of Thebes, thogh the storye is knowen lite;

410 And many an ympne for your halydayes,

That highten balades, roundeles, vyrelayes;

And, for to speke of other besynesse,

He hath in prose translated Boece,

And Of the Wreched Engendrynge of Mankynde,

As man may in Pope Innocent yfynde;

And mad the lyf also of Seynt Cecile.

He made also, gon is a gret while,

Orygenes upon the Maudeleyne.

Hym oughte now to have the lesse peyne;

420 He hath mad many a lay and many a thyng.

Now as ye ben a god and ek a kyng,

I, youre Alceste, whilom quene of Trace,

I axe yow this man, ryght of youre grace,

That ye hym nevere hurte in al his lyve;

And he shal swere to yow, and that as blyve,

He shal no more agilten in this wyse,

But he shal maken, as ye wol devyse,

Of women trewe in lovynge al here lyve,

Wherso ye wol, of mayden or of wyve,

430 And fortheren yow as muche as he mysseyde

Or in the Rose or elles in Crisseyde."

The god of Love answerede hire thus anon:

"Madame," quod he, "it is so longe agon

That I yow knew so charytable and trewe,

That nevere yit sith that the world was newe

To me ne fond I betere non than ye;

That, if that I wol save my degre,

I may, ne wol, not warne youre requeste.

Al lyth in yow, doth with hym what yow leste;

440 And al foryeve, withoute lenger space.

For whoso yeveth a yifte or doth a grace,

Do it by tyme, his thank is wel the more.

And demeth ye what he shal do therfore.

Go thanke now my lady here," quod he.

I ros, and doun I sette me on my kne,

And seyde thus, "Madame, the God above

Foryelde yow that ye the god of Love

Han maked me his wrathe to foryive,

And yeve me grace so longe for to live

450 That I may knowe sothly what ye be

That han me holpen and put in swich degre.

But trewely I wende, as in this cas,

Naught have agilt, ne don to love trespas.

For-why a trewe man, withoute drede,

Hath nat to parte with a theves dede;

Ne a trewe lovere oghte me nat to blame

Thogh that I speke a fals lovere som shame.

They oughte rathere with me for to holde

For that I of Criseyde wrot or tolde,

460 Or of the Rose; what so myn auctour mente,

Algate, God wot, it was myn entente

To forthere trouthe in love and it cheryce,

And to be war fro falsnesse and fro vice

By swich ensaumple; this was my menynge."

And she answerde, "Lat be thyn arguynge,

For Love ne wol nat counterpletyd be

In ryght ne wrong; and lerne this at me!

Thow hast thy grace, and hold the ryght therto.

Now wol I seyn what penaunce thow shalt do

470 For thy trespas, and understond it here:

Thow shalt, whil that thow livest, yer by yere,

The moste partye of thy tyme spende

In makynge of a gloryous legende

Of goode women, maydenes and wyves,

That were trewe in lovynge al here lyves;

And telle of false men that hem betrayen,

That al here lyf ne don nat but assayen

How manye wemen they may don a shame;

For in youre world that is now holden game.

480 And thogh the lesteth nat a lovere be,

Spek wel of love; this penaunce yeve I thee.

And to the god of Love I shal so preye

That he shal charge his servaunts by any weye

To fortheren the, and wel thy labour quite.

Go now thy wey, thy penaunce is but lyte."

The god of Love gan smyle, and thanne he seyde:

"Wostow," quod he, "wher this be wif or mayde,

Or queen, or countesse, or of what degre,

That hath so lytel penaunce yiven the,

490 That hast deserved sorer for to smerte?

But pite renneth sone in gentil herte;

That mayst thow sen; she kytheth what she is."

And I answerde, "Nay, sire, so have I blys,

No more but that I se wel she is good."

"That is a trewe tale, by myn hood!"

Quod Love, "and that thow knowest wel, parde,

Yif it be so that thow avise the.

Hast thow nat in a bok, lyth in thy cheste,

The grete goodnesse of the queene Alceste,

500 That turned was into a dayesye;

She that for hire husbonde ches to dye,

And ek to gon to helle rather than he,

And Ercules rescued hire, parde,

And broughte hyre out of helle ageyn to blys?"

And I answerde ayen, and seyde, "Yis,

Now knowe I hire. And is this goode Alceste,

The dayesye, and myn owene hertes reste?

Now fele I wel the goodnesse of this wif,

That bothe after hire deth and in hire lyf

510 Hire grete bounte doubleth hire renoun.

Wel hath she quit me myn affeccioun

That I have to hire flour, the dayesye.

No wonder is thogh Jove hire stellifye,

As telleth Agaton, for hyre goodnesse!

Hire white coroun bereth of it witnesse;

For also manye vertues hadde she

As smale flourys in hyre coroun be.

In remembraunce of hire and in honour

Cibella made the dayesye and the flour

520 Ycoroned al with whit, as men may se;

And Mars yaf to hire corone red, parde,

In stede of rubies, set among the white."

Therwith this queene wex red for shame a lyte

Whan she was preysed so in hire presence.

Thanne seyde Love, "A ful gret neglygence

Was it to the, to write unstedefastnesse

Of women, sith thow knowest here goodnesse

By pref, and ek by storyes herebyforn.

Let be the chaf, and writ wel of the corn.

530 Why noldest thow han writen of Alceste,

And laten Criseide ben aslepe and reste?

For of Alceste shulde thy wrytynge be,

Syn that thow wost that calandier is she

Of goodnesse, for she taughte of fyn lovynge,

And namely of wifhod the lyvynge,

And alle the boundes that she oughte kepe.

Thy litel wit was thilke tyme aslepe.

But now I charge the upon thy lyf

That in thy legende thow make of this wif

540 Whan thow hast othere smale mad byfore;

And far now wel, I charge the no more.

At Cleopatre I wol that thow begynne,

And so forth, and my love so shalt thow wynne."

And with that word, of slep I gan awake,

And ryght thus on my Legende gan I make.

THE LEGENDS

After the deth of Tholome the kyng,

That al Egipt hadde in his governyng,

Regned his queene Cleopataras;

Tyl on a tyme befel there swich a cas

That out of Rome was sent a senatour

For to conqueren regnes and honour

Unto the toun of Rome, as was usaunce,

To han the world at hire obesaunce,

And soth to seyne, Antonius was his name.

So fil it, as Fortune hym oughte a shame,

590 Whan he was fallen in prosperite

Rebel unto the toun of Rome is he.

And over al this, the suster of Cesar,

He lafte hire falsly, or that she was war,

And wolde algates han another wyf,

For which he tok with Rome and Cesar stryf.

Natheles, for sothe, this ilke senatour

Was a ful worthy gentil werreyour,

And of his deth it was ful gret damage.

But love hadde brought this man in swich a rage

600 And hym so narwe bounden in his las,

Al for the love of Cleopataras,

That al the world he sette at no value.

Hym thoughte there nas nothyng to hym so due

As Cleopatras for to love and serve;

Hym roughte nat in armes for to sterve

In the defence of hyre and of hire ryght.

This noble queene ek lovede so this knyght,

Thourgh his desert, and for his chyvalrye;

As certeynly, but if that bokes lye,

610 He was, of persone and of gentillesse,

And of discrecioun and hardynesse,

Worthi to any wyght that liven may;

And she was fayr as is the rose in May.

And, for to make shortly is the beste,

She wax his wif, and hadde hym as hire leste.

The weddynge and the feste to devyse,

To me, that have ytake swich empryse

Of so many a story for to make,

It were to longe, lest that I shulde slake

620 Of thyng that bereth more effect and charge;

For men may overlade a ship or barge.

And forthy to th' effect thanne wol I skyppe,

And al the remenaunt, I wol lete it slippe.

Octovyan, that wod was of this dede,

Shop hym an ost on Antony to lede

Al uterly for his destruccioun,

With stoute Romeyns, crewel as lyoun;

To ship they wente, and thus I lat hem sayle.

Antonius was war, and wol nat fayle

630 To meten with these Romeyns, if he may;

Tok ek his red, and bothe, upon a day,

His wif and he, and al his ost, forth wente

To shipe anon, no lengere they ne stente;

And in the se it happede hem to mete.

Up goth the trompe, and for to shoute and shete,

And peynen hem to sette on with the sunne.

With grysely soun out goth the grete gonne,

And heterly they hurtelen al atones,

And from the top doun come the grete stones.

640 In goth the grapenel, so ful of crokes;

Among the ropes renne the sherynge-hokes.

In with the polax preseth he and he;

Byhynde the mast begynnyth he to fle,

And out ageyn, and dryveth hym overbord;

He styngeth hym upon his speres ord;

He rent the seyl with hokes lyke a sithe;

He bryngeth the cuppe and biddeth hem be blythe;

He poureth pesen upon the haches slidere;

With pottes ful of lyme they gon togidere;

650 And thus the longe day in fyght they spende,

Tyl at the laste, as every thyng hath ende,

Antony is schent and put hym to the flyghte,

And al his folk to-go that best go myghte.

Fleth ek the queen, with al hire purpre sayl,

For strokes, whiche that wente as thikke as hayl;

No wonder was she myghte it nat endure.

And whan that Antony saw that aventure,

"Allas," quod he, "the day that I was born!

My worshipe in this day thus have I lorn."

660 And for dispeyr out of his wit he sterte

And rof hymself anon thourghout the herte

Or that he ferther wente out of the place.

His wif, that coude of Cesar have no grace,

To Egipt is fled for drede and for destresse.

But herkeneth, ye that speken of kyndenesse,

Ye men that falsly sweren many an oth

That ye wol deye if that youre love be wroth,

Here may ye sen of wemen which a trouthe!

This woful Cleopatre hath mad swich routhe

670 That ther is tonge non that may it telle.

But on the morwe she wolde no lengere dwelle,

But made hire subtyl werkmen make a shryne

Of alle the rubyes and the stones fyne

In al Egypte that she coude espie,

And putte ful the shryne of spicerye,

And let the cors enbaume, and forth she fette

This dede cors, and in the shryne it shette.

And next the shryne a pit thanne doth she grave,

And alle the serpentes that she myghte have,

680 She putte hem in that grave, and thus she seyde:

"Now, love, to whom my sorweful herte obeyde

So ferforthly that from that blisful houre

That I yow swor to ben al frely youre --

I mene yow, Antonius, my knyght --

That nevere wakynge, in the day or nyght,

Ye nere out of myn hertes remembraunce,

For wel or wo, for carole or for daunce;

And in myself this covenaunt made I tho,

That ryght swich as ye felten, wel or wo,

690 As fer forth as it in my power lay,

Unreprovable unto my wyfhod ay,

The same wolde I fele, lyf or deth --

And thilke covenant whil me lasteth breth

I wol fulfille; and that shal ben wel sene,

Was nevere unto hire love a trewer quene."

And with that word, naked, with ful good herte,

Among the serpents in the pit she sterte,

And there she ches to have hire buryinge.

Anon the nadderes gonne hire for to stynge,

700 And she hire deth receyveth with good cheere

For love of Antony that was hire so dere.

And this is storyal soth, it is no fable.

Now, or I fynde a man thus trewe and stable,

And wol for love his deth so frely take,

I preye God let oure hedes nevere ake! Amen.

At Babiloyne whylom fil it thus,

The whyche toun the queen Semyramus

Let dychen al aboute and walles make

Ful hye, of hard tiles wel ybake:

710 There were dwellyng in this noble toun

Two lordes, whiche that were of gret renoun,

And woneden so nygh, upon a grene,

That there nas but a ston-wal hem betweene,

As ofte in grete tounes is the wone.

And soth to seyne, that o man hadde a sone,

Of al that lond oon of the lustyeste.

That other hadde a doughter, the fayreste

That estward in the world was tho dwellynge.

The name of everych gan to other sprynge

720 By women that were neighebores aboute.

For in that contre yit, withouten doute,

Maydenes been ykept, for jelosye,

Ful streyte, lest they diden som folye.

This yonge man was called Piramus,

Tysbe hight the maide, Naso seyth thus;

And thus by report was hire name yshove

That, as they wex in age, wex here love.

And certeyn, as by resoun of hire age,

There myghte have ben bytwixe hem maryage,

730 But that here fadres nolde it nat assente;

And bothe in love ylyke sore they brente,

That non of alle hyre frendes myght it lette,

But pryvyly som tyme yit they mette

By sleyghte, and spoken som of here desyr;

As wry the glede and hotter is the fyr,

Forbede a love, and it is ten so wod.

This wal, which that bitwixe hem bothe stod,

Was clove a-two, ryght from the cop adoun,

Of olde tyme of his fundacioun;

740 But yit this clyfte was so narw and lyte

It nas nat sene, deere ynogh a myte.

But what is that that love can nat espye?

Ye loveres two, if that I shal nat lye,

Ye founden first this litel narwe clifte;

And with a soun as softe as any shryfte,

They lete here wordes thourgh the clifte pace,

And tolden, whil that they stode in the place,

Al here compleynt of love and al here wo,

At every tyme whan they durste so.

750 Upon that o syde of the wal stod he,

And on that other side stod Thesbe,

The swote soun of other to receyve.

And thus here wardeyns wolde they deceyve,

And every day this wal they wolde threte,

And wisshe to God that it were doun ybete.

Thus wolde they seyn: "Alas, thow wikkede wal!

Thorgh thyn envye thow us lettest al.

Why nylt thow cleve or fallen al a-two?

Or at the leste, but thou woldist so,

760 Yit woldest thow but ones lat us mete,

Or ones that we myghte kyssen swete,

Thanne were we covered of oure cares colde.

But, natheles, yit be we to thee holde,

In as muche as thow sufferest for to gon

Oure wordes thourgh thy lym and ek thy ston.

Yit oughte we with the been wel apayd."

And whan these ydele wordes weren sayd,

The colde wal they wolden kysse of ston,

And take here leve and forth they wolden gon.

770 And this was gladly in the eve-tyde,

Or wonder erly, lest men it espyde.

And longe tyme they wroughte in this manere,

Tyl on a day, whan Phebus gan to cleere --

Aurora with the stremes of hire hete

Hadde dreyed up the dew of herbes wete --

Unto this clyft, as it was wont to be,

Com Piramus, and after com Thysbe,

And plyghten trouthe fully in here fey

That ilke same nyght to stele awey,

780 And to begile here wardeyns everichon,

And forth out of the cite for to goon;

And, for the feldes ben so brode and wide,

For to mete in o place at o tyde,

They sette mark here metynge sholde be

There kyng Nynus was grave under a tre --

For olde payens that idoles heryed

Useden tho in feldes to ben beryed --

And faste by this grave was a welle.

And shortly of this tale for to telle,

790 This covenaunt was affermed wonder faste;

And longe hem thoughte that the sonne laste,

That it nere gon under the se adoun.

This Tisbe hath so gret affeccioun

And so gret lykinge Piramus to se,

That whan she say hire tyme myghte be,

At nyght she stal awey ful pryvyly,

With hire face ywympled subtyly;

For alle hire frendes -- for to save hire trouthe --

She hath forsake; allas, and that is routhe

800 That evere woman wolde ben so trewe

To truste man, but she the bet hym knewe.

And to the tre she goth a ful good pas,

For love made hire so hardy in this cas,

And by the welle adoun she gan hyre dresse.

Allas! Than cometh a wilde lyonesse

Out of the wode, withoute more arest,

With blody mouth, of strangelynge of a best,

To drynken of the welle there as she sat.

And whan that Tisbe hadde espyed that,

810 She rist hire up, with a ful drery herte,

And in a cave with dredful fot she sterte,

For by the mone she say it wel withalle.

And as she ran hire wympel let she falle

And tok non hed, so sore she was awhaped,

And ek so glad that that she was escaped;

And thus she sit and darketh wonder stylle.

Whan that this lyonesse hath dronke hire fille,

Aboute the welle gan she for to wynde,

And ryght anon the wympel gan she fynde,

820 And with hire blody mouth it al torente.

Whan this was don, no lengere she ne stente,

But to the wode hire weye thanne hath she nome.

And at the laste this Piramus is come;

But al to longe, allas, at hom was he!

The mone shon, and he myghte wel yse,

And in his wey, as that he com ful faste.

His eyen to the ground adoun he caste,

And in the sond, as he byheld adoun,

He sey the steppes brode of a lyoun,

830 And in his herte he sodeynly agros,

And pale he wex; therwith his heer aros,

And ner he com, and fond the wimpel torn.

"Allas," quod he, "the day that I was born!

This o nyght wol us lovers bothe sle!

How shulde I axe mercy of Tisbe,

Whan I am he that have yow slayn, allas!

My biddyng hath yow slayn, as in this cas.

Allas, to bidde a woman gon by nyghte

In place there as peril falle myghte!

840 And I so slow! Allas, I ne hadde be

Here in this place a furlong wey or ye!

Now what lyoun that be in this forest,

My body mote he renten, or what best

That wilde is, gnawe mote he now myn herte!"

And with that word he to the wympel sterte,

And kiste it ofte, and wep on it ful sore,

And seyde, "Wympel, allas! There is no more

But thow shalt feele as wel the blod of me

As thow hast felt the bledyng of Thisbe!"

850 And with that word he smot hym to the herte.

The blod out of the wounde as brode sterte

As water whan the condit broken is.

Now Tisbe, which that wiste nat of this,

But sittynge in hire drede, she thoughte thus:

"If it so falle that my Piramus

Be comen hider, and may me not yfynde,

He may me holde fals and ek unkynde."

And out she cometh and after hym gan espien,

Bothe with hire herte and with hire yen,

860 And thoughte, "I wol hym tellen of my drede,

Bothe of the lyonesse and al my deede."

And at the laste hire love thanne hath she founde,

Betynge with his heles on the grounde,

Al blody, and therwithal a-bak she sterte,

And lik the wawes quappe gan hire herte,

And pale as box she was, and in a throwe

Avisede hire, and gan hym wel to knowe,

That it was Piramus, hire herte deere.

Who coude wryte which a dedly cheere

870 Hath Thisbe now, and how hire heer she rente,

And how she gan hireselve to turmente,

And how she lyth and swouneth on the grounde,

And how she wep of teres ful his wounde;

How medeleth she his blod with hire compleynte;

How with his blod hireselve gan she peynte;

How clyppeth she the deede cors, allas!

How doth this woful Tisbe in this cas!

How kysseth she his frosty mouth so cold!

"Who hath don this, and who hath been so bold

880 To sle my leef? O spek, my Piramus!

I am thy Tisbe, that the calleth thus."

And therwithal she lifteth up his hed.

This woful man, that was nat fully ded,

Whan that he herde the name of Tisbe cryen,

On hire he caste his hevy, dedly yen,

And doun agayn, and yeldeth up the gost.

Tysbe ryst up withouten noyse or bost,

And saw hire wympel and his empty shethe,

And ek his swerd that hym hath don to dethe.

890 Thanne spak she thus: "My woful hand," quod she,

"Is strong ynogh in swich a werk to me;

For love shal yeve me strengthe and hardynesse

To make my wounde large ynogh, I gesse.

I wol thee folwe ded, and I wol be

Felawe and cause ek of thy deth," quod she.

"And thogh that nothing, save the deth only,

Mighte thee fro me departe trewely,

Thow shalt no more departe now fro me

Than fro the deth, for I wol go with thee.

900 And now, ye wrechede jelos fadres oure,

We that whilom were children youre,

We preyen yow, withouten more envye,

That in o grave yfere we moten lye,

Sith love hath brought us to this pitous ende.

And ryghtwis God to every lovere sende,

That loveth trewely, more prosperite

Than evere yit had Piramus and Tisbe!

And lat no gentil woman hyre assure

To putten hire in swich an aventure.

910 But God forbede but a woman can

Ben as trewe in lovynge as a man!

And for my part, I shal anon it kythe."

And with that word his swerd she tok as swythe,

That warm was of hire loves blod, and hot,

And to the herte she hireselven smot.

And thus are Tisbe and Piramus ygo.

Of trewe men I fynde but fewe mo

In alle my bokes, save this Piramus,

And therfore have I spoken of hym thus.

920 For it is deynte to us men to fynde

A man that can in love been trewe and kynde.

Here may ye se, what lovere so he be,

A woman dar and can as wel as he.

Glorye and honour, Virgil Mantoan,

Be to thy name! and I shal, as I can,

Folwe thy lanterne, as thow gost byforn,

How Eneas to Dido was forsworn.

In thyn Eneyde and Naso wol I take

The tenor, and the grete effectes make.

930 Whan Troye brought was to destruccioun

By Grekes sleyghte, and namely by Synoun,

Feynynge the hors offered unto Mynerve,

Thourgh which that many a Troyan moste sterve;

And Ector hadde, after his deth, apeered;

And fyr so wod it myghte nat been steered

In al the noble tour of Ylioun,

That of the cite was the chef dongeoun;

And al the contre was so lowe ybrought,

And Priamus the kyng fordon and nought;

940 And Enyas was charged by Venus

To fleen awey, he tok Ascanius,

That was his sone, in his ryght hand and fledde;

And on his bak he bar and with hym ledde

His olde fader cleped Anchises,

And by the weye his wif Creusa he les.

And moche sorwe hadde he in his mynde,

Or that he coude his felaweshipe fynde.

But at the laste, whan he hadde hem founde,

He made hym redy in a certeyn stounde,

950 And to the se ful faste he gan him hye,

And sayleth forth with al his companye

Toward Ytayle, as wolde his destinee.

But of his aventures in the se

Nis nat to purpos for to speke of here,

For it acordeth nat to my matere.

But, as I seyde, of hym and of Dido

Shal be my tale, til that I have do.

So longe he saylede in the salte se

Tyl in Libie unnethe aryvede he

960 With shipes sevene and with no more navye;

And glad was he to londe for to hye,

So was he with the tempest al toshake.

And whan that he the haven hadde ytake,

He hadde a knyght, was called Achates,

And hym of al his felawshipe he ches

To gon with hym, the cuntre for t' espie.

He tok with hym no more companye,

But forth they gon, and lafte his shipes ryde,

His fere and he, withouten any gyde.

970 So longe he walketh in this wildernesse,

Til at the laste he mette an hunteresse.

A bowe in hande and arwes hadde she;

Hire clothes cutted were unto the kne.

But she was yit the fayreste creature

That evere was yformed by Nature;

And Eneas and Achates she grette,

And thus she to hem spak whan she hem mette:

"Saw ye," quod she, "as ye han walked wyde,

Any of my sustren walke yow besyde

980 With any wilde bor or other best,

That they han hunted to, in this forest,

Ytukked up, with arwes in hire cas?"

"Nay, sothly, lady," quod this Eneas;

"But by thy beaute, as it thynketh me,

Thow myghtest nevere erthly woman be,

But Phebus syster art thow, as I gesse.

And if so be that thow be a goddesse,

Have mercy on oure labour and oure wo."

"I n' am no goddesse, sothly," quod she tho;

990 "For maydens walken in this contre here,

With arwes and with bowe, in this manere.

This is the reyne of Libie there ye ben,

Of which that Dido lady is and queen" --

And shortly tolde hym al the occasyoun

Why Dido cam into that regioun,

Of which as now me lesteth nat to ryme;

It nedeth nat, it were but los of tyme.

For this is al and som, it was Venus,

His owene moder, that spak with him thus,

1000 And to Cartage she bad he sholde hym dighte,

And vanyshed anon out of his syghte.

I coude folwe, word for word, Virgile,

But it wolde lasten al to longe while.

This noble queen that cleped was Dido,

That whilom was the wif of Sytheo,

That fayrer was than is the bryghte sonne,

This noble toun of Cartage hath bigonne;

In which she regneth in so gret honour

That she was holden of alle queenes flour

1010 Of gentillesse, of fredom, of beaute,

That wel was hym that myghte hire ones se;

Of kynges and of lordes so desyred

That al the world hire beaute hadde yfyred,

She stod so wel in every wightes grace.

Whan Eneas was come unto that place,

Unto the mayster temple of al the toun

Ther Dido was in hire devocyoun,

Ful pryvyly his weye than hath he nome.

Whan he was in the large temple come,

1020 I can nat seyn if that it be possible,

But Venus hadde hym maked invysible --

Thus seyth the bok, withouten any les.

And whan this Eneas and Achates

Hadden in this temple ben overal,

Thanne founde they, depeynted on a wal,

How Troye and al the lond destroyed was.

"Allas, that I was born!" quod Eneas;

"Thourghout the world oure shame is kid so wyde,

Now it is peynted upon every syde.

1030 We, that weren in prosperite,

Been now desclandred, and in swich degre,

No lenger for to lyven I ne kepe."

And with that word he brast out for to wepe

So tenderly that routhe it was to sene.

This fresshe lady, of the cite queene,

Stod in the temple in hire estat real,

So rychely and ek so fayr withal,

So yong, so lusty, with hire eyen glade,

That, if that God, that hevene and erthe made,

1040 Wolde han a love, for beaute and goodnesse,

And womanhod, and trouthe, and semelynesse,

Whom shulde he loven but this lady swete?

Ther nys no woman to hym half so mete.

Fortune, that hath the world in governaunce,

Hath sodeynly brought in so newe a chaunce

That nevere was ther yit so fremde a cas.

For al the companye of Eneas,

Which that he wende han loren in the se,

Aryved is nat fer from that cite;

1050 For which the gretteste of his lordes some

By aventure ben to the cite come,

Unto that same temple, for to seke

The queene, and of hire socour to beseke,

Swich renoun was there sprongen of hire goodnesse.

And whan they hadden told al here distresse,

And al here tempest and here harde cas,

Unto the queen apeered Eneas,

And openly biknew that it was he.

Who hadde joye thanne but his meyne,

1060 That hadde founde here lord, here governour?

The queen saugh that they dide hym swych honour,

And hadde herd ofte of Eneas er tho,

And in hire herte she hadde routhe and wo

That evere swich a noble man as he

Shal ben disherited in swich degre;

And saw the man, that he was lyk a knyght,

And suffisaunt of persone and of myght,

And lyk to been a verray gentil man;

And wel his wordes he besette can,

1070 And hadde a noble visage for the nones,

And formed wel of braunes and of bones.

For after Venus hadde he swich fayrnesse

That no man myghte be half so fayr, I gesse;

And wel a lord he semede for to be.

And, for he was a straunger, somwhat she

Likede hym the bet, as, God do bote,

To som folk ofte newe thyng is sote.

Anon hire herte hath pite of his wo,

And with that pite love com in also;

1080 And thus, for pite and for gentillesse,

Refreshed moste he been of his distresse.

She seyde, certes, that she sory was

That he hath had swych peryl and swich cas;

And, in hire frendly speche, in this manere

She to hym spak, and seyde as ye may here:

"Be ye nat Venus sone and Anchises?

In good feyth, al the worshipe and encres

That I may goodly don yow, ye shal have.

Youre shipes and youre meyne shal I save."

1090 And many a gentil word she spak hym to,

And comaunded hire messageres to go

The same day, withouten any fayle,

His shippes for to seke, and hem vitayle.

Ful many a beste she to the shippes sente,

And with the wyn she gan hem to presente,

And to hire royal paleys she hire spedde,

And Eneas alwey with hire she ledde.

What nedeth yow the feste to descrive?

He nevere beter at ese was in his lyve.

1100 Ful was the feste of deyntees and rychesse,

Of instruments, of song, and of gladnesse,

Of many an amorous lokyng and devys.

This Eneas is come to paradys

Out of the swolow of helle, and thus in joye

Remembreth hym of his estat in Troye.

To daunsynge chaumberes ful of paramentes,

Of riche beddes, and of ornementes,

This Eneas is led after the mete.

And with the quene, whan that he hadde sete,

1110 And spices parted, and the wyn agon,

Unto his chambres was he led anon

To take his ese and for to have his reste,

With al his folk, to don what so hem leste.

There nas courser wel ybrydeled non,

Ne stede, for the justing wel to gon,

Ne large palfrey, esy for the nones,

Ne jewel, fretted ful of ryche stones,

Ne sakkes ful of gold, of large wyghte,

Ne ruby non, that shynede by nyghte,

1120 Ne gentil hawtein faucoun heroner,

Ne hound for hert or wilde bor or der,

Ne coupe of gold, with floreyns newe ybete,

That in the land of Libie may be gete,

That Dido ne hath it Eneas ysent;

And al is payed, what that he hath spent.

Thus can this quene honurable hire gestes calle,

As she that can in fredom passen alle.

Eneas sothly ek, withouten les,

Hadde sent unto his ship by Achates

1130 After his sone, and after riche thynges,

Bothe sceptre, clothes, broches, and ek rynges,

Some for to were, and some for to presente

To hire that alle thise noble thynges hym sente;

And bad his sone how that he shulde make

The presenting, and to the queen it take.

Repeyred is this Achates agayn,

And Eneas ful blysful is and fayn

To sen his yonge sone Ascanyus.

But natheles, oure autour telleth us,

1140 That Cupido, that is the god of love,

At preyere of his moder hye above,

Hadde the liknesse of the child ytake,

This noble queen enamored to make

On Eneas; but, as of that scripture,

Be as be may, I take of it no cure.

But soth is this, the queen hath mad swich chere

Unto this child, that wonder is to here;

And of the present that his fader sente

She thanked hym ful ofte, in good entente.

1150 Thus is this queen in plesaunce and in joye,

With alle these newe lusty folk of Troye.

And of the dedes hath she more enquered

Of Eneas, and al the story lered

Of Troye, and al the longe day they tweye

Entendeden to speken and to pleye;

Of which ther gan to breden swich a fyr

That sely Dido hath now swich desyr

With Eneas, hire newe gest, to dele,

That she hath lost hire hewe and ek hire hele.

1160 Now to th' effect, now to the fruyt of al,

Whi I have told this story, and telle shal.

Thus I begynne: it fil upon a nyght,

Whan that the mone up reysed hadde his lyght,

This noble queene unto hire reste wente.

She siketh sore, and gan hyreself turmente;

She waketh, walweth, maketh many a breyd,

As don these lovers, as I have herd seyd.

And at the laste, unto hire syster Anne

She made hire mone, and ryght thus spak she thanne:

1170 "Now, dere sister myn, what may it be

That me agasteth in my drem?" quod she.

"This newe Troyan is so in my thought,

For that me thynketh he is so wel ywrought,

And ek so likly for to ben a man,

And therwithal so moche good he can,

That al my love and lyf lyth in his cure.

Have ye nat herd him telle his aventure?

Now certes, Anne, if that ye rede it me,

I wolde fayn to hym ywedded be;

1180 This is th' effect; what sholde I more seye?

In hym lyth al, to do me live or deye."

Hyre syster Anne, as she that coude hire good,

Seyde as hire thoughte, and somdel it withstod.

But herof was so long a sermounynge

It were to long to make rehersynge.

But finaly, it may nat ben withstonde;

Love wol love, for nothing wol it wonde.

The dawenyng up-rist out of the se.

This amorous queene chargeth hire meyne

1190 The nettes dresse, and speres brode and kene;

An huntyng wol this lusty freshe queene,

So priketh hire this newe joly wo.

To hors is al hir lusty folk ygo;

Into the court the houndes been ybrought;

And upon coursers swift as any thought

Hire yonge knyghtes hoven al aboute,

And of hire women ek an huge route.

Upon a thikke palfrey, paper-whit,

With sadel red, enbrouded with delyt,

1200 Of gold the barres up enbosede hye,

Sit Dido, al in gold and perre wrye;

And she as fair as is the bryghte morwe,

That heleth syke folk of nyghtes sorwe.

Upon a courser stertlynge as the fyr --

Men myghte turne hym with a litel wyr --

Sit Eneas, lik Phebus to devyse,

So was he fressh arayed in his wyse.

The fomy brydel with the bit of gold

Governeth he ryght as hymself hath wold.

1210 And forth this noble queen thus lat I ride

On huntynge, with this Troyan by hyre side.

The herde of hertes founden is anon,

With "Hay! Go bet! Pryke thow! Lat gon, lat gon!

Why nyl the leoun comen, or the bere,

That I myghte ones mete hym with this spere?"

Thus seyn these yonge folk, and up they kylle

These bestes wilde, and han hem at here wille.

Among al this to rumbelen gan the hevene;

The thunder rored with a grisely stevene;

1220 Doun cam the reyn with hayl and slet so faste,

With hevenes fyr, that it so sore agaste

This noble queen, and also hire meyne,

That ech of hem was glad awey to fle.

And shortly, from the tempest hire to save,

She fledde hireself into a litel cave,

And with hire wente this Eneas also.

I not, with hem if there wente any mo;

The autour maketh of it no mencioun.

And here began the depe affeccioun

1230 Betwixe hem two; this was the firste morwe

Of hire gladnesse, and gynning of hire sorwe.

For there hath Eneas ykneled so,

And told hire al his herte and al his wo,

And swore so depe to hire to be trewe

For wel or wo and chaunge hire for no newe;

And as a fals lovere so wel can pleyne,

That sely Dido rewede on his peyne,

And tok hym for husbonde and becom his wyf

For everemo, whil that hem laste lyf.

1240 And after this, whan that the tempest stente,

With myrthe out as they comen, hom they wente.

The wikke fame upros, and that anon,

How Eneas hath with the queen ygon

Into the cave; and demede as hem liste.

And whan the kyng that Yarbas highte it wiste,

As he that hadde hir loved evere his lyf,

And wowede hyre, to han hire to his wyf,

Swich sorwe as he hath maked, and swich cheere,

It is a routhe and pite for to here.

1250 But as in love, alday it happeth so

That oon shal laughen at anothers wo.

Now laugheth Eneas and is in joye

And more richesse than evere he was in Troye.

O sely wemen, ful of innocence,

Ful of pite, of trouthe and conscience,

What maketh yow to men to truste so?

Have ye swych routhe upon hyre feyned wo,

And han swich olde ensaumples yow beforn?

Se ye nat alle how they ben forsworn?

1260 Where sen ye oon that he ne hath laft his leef,

Or ben unkynde, or don hire som myscheef,

Or piled hire, or bosted of his dede?

Ye may as wel it sen as ye may rede.

Tak hede now of this grete gentil-man,

This Troyan, that so wel hire plesen can,

That feyneth hym so trewe and obeysynge,

So gentil, and so privy of his doinge,

And can so wel don alle his obeysaunces,

And wayten hire at festes and at daunces,

1270 And whan she goth to temple and hom ageyn,

And fasten til he hath his lady seyn,

And beren in his devyses, for hire sake,

Not I not what; and songes wolde he make,

Justen, and don of armes many thynges,

Sende hire lettres, tokens, broches, rynges --

Now herkneth how he shal his lady serve!

There as he was in peril for to sterve

For hunger, and for myschef in the se,

And desolat, and fled from his cuntre,

1280 And al his folk with tempest al todryven,

She hath hire body and ek hire reame yiven

Into his hand, there as she myghte have been

Of othere land than of Cartage a queen,

And lyved in joye ynogh; what wole ye more?

This Eneas, that hath so depe yswore,

Is wery of his craft withinne a throwe;

The hote ernest is al overblowe.

And pryvyly he doth his shipes dyghte,

And shapeth hym to stele awey by nyghte.

1290 This Dido hath suspecioun of this,

And thoughte wel that it was al amys.

For in hir bed he lyth a-nyght and syketh.

She axeth hym anon what hym myslyketh --

"My dere herte, which that I love most?"

"Certes," quod he, "this nyght my faderes gost

Hath in my slep so sore me tormented,

And ek Mercurye his message hath presented,

That nedes to the conquest of Ytayle

My destine is sone for to sayle;

1300 For which, me thynketh, brosten is myn herte!"

Therwith his false teres out they sterte,

And taketh hire withinne his armes two.

"Is that in ernest?" quod she; "Wole ye so?

Have ye nat sworn to wyve me to take?

Allas, what woman wole ye of me make?

I am a gentil woman and a queen.

Ye wole nat from youre wif thus foule fleen?

That I was born, allas! What shal I do?"

To telle in short, this noble quen Dydo,

1310 She seketh halwes and doth sacryfise;

She kneleth, cryeth, that routhe is to devyse;

Conjureth hym, and profereth hym to be

His thral, his servant in the leste degre;

She falleth hym to fote and swouneth ther,

Dischevele, with hire bryghte gilte her,

And seyth, "Have mercy; let me with yow ryde!

These lordes, which that wonen me besyde,

Wole me distroyen only for youre sake.

And, so ye wole me now to wive take,

1320 As ye han sworn, thanne wol I yeve yow leve

To slen me with youre swerd now sone at eve!

For thanne yit shal I deyen as youre wif.

I am with childe, and yeve my child his lyf!

Mercy, lord! Have pite in youre thought!"

But al this thing avayleth hire ryght nought,

For on a nyght, slepynge he let hire lye,

And stal awey unto his companye,

And as a traytour forth he gan to sayle

Toward the large contre of Ytayle.

1330 Thus he hath laft Dido in wo and pyne,

And wedded ther a lady hyghte Lavyne.

A cloth he lafte, and ek his swerd stondynge,

Whan he from Dido stal in hire slepynge,

Ryght at hire beddes hed, so gan he hie,

Whan that he stal awey to his navye;

Which cloth, whan sely Dido gan awake,

She hath it kyst ful ofte for his sake,

And seyde, "O swete cloth, whil Juppiter it leste,

Tak now my soule, unbynd me of this unreste!

1340 I have fulfild of fortune al the cours."

And thus, allas, withouten his socours,

Twenty tyme yswouned hath she thanne.

And whanne that she unto hire syster Anne

Compleyned hadde -- of which I may nat wryte,

So gret a routhe I have it for t' endite --

And bad hire norice and hire sister gon

To fechen fyr and other thyng anon,

And seyde that she wolde sacryfye --

And whan she myghte hire tyme wel espie,

1350 Upon the fir of sacryfice she sterte,

And with his swerd she rof hyre to the herte.

But, as myn auctour seith, yit thus she seyde;

Or she was hurt, byforen or she deyde,

She wrot a lettre anon that thus began:

"Ryght so," quod she, "as that the white swan

Ayens his deth begynnyth for to synge,

Right so to yow make I my compleynynge.

Not that I trowe to geten yow ageyn,

For wel I wot that it is al in veyn,

1360 Syn that the goddes been contraire to me.

But syn my name is lost thourgh yow," quod she,

"I may wel lese on yow a word or letter,

Al be it that I shal ben nevere the better;

For thilke wynd that blew youre ship awey,

The same wynd hath blowe awey youre fey."

But who wol al this letter have in mynde,

Rede Ovyde, and in hym he shal it fynde.

Thow rote of false lovers, Duc Jasoun,

Thow sly devourere and confusioun

1370 Of gentil wemen, tendre creatures,

Thow madest thy recleymyng and thy lures

To ladyes of thy statly aparaunce,

And of thy wordes farced with plesaunce,

And of thy feyned trouthe and thy manere,

With thyn obesaunce and humble cheere,

And with thy contrefeted peyne and wo.

There othere falsen oon, thow falsest two!

O, often swore thow that thow woldest dye

For love, whan thow ne feltest maladye

1380 Save foul delyt, which that thow callest love!

Yif that I live, thy name shal be shove

In English that thy sekte shal be knowe!

Have at thee, Jason! Now thyn horn is blowe!

But certes, it is bothe routhe and wo

That love with false loveres werketh so;

For they shal have wel betere love and chere

Than he that hath abought his love ful dere,

Or hadde in armes many a blody box.

For evere as tendre a capoun et the fox,

1390 Thow he be fals and hath the foul betrayed,

As shal the good-man that therfore hath payed.

Al have he to the capoun skille and ryght,

The false fox wol have his part at nyght.

On Jason this ensaumple is wel ysene

By Isiphile and Medea the queene.

In Tessalie, as Guido tellith us,

There was a kyng that highte Pelleus,

That hadde a brother which that highte Eson;

And whan for age he myghte unnethes gon,

1400 He yaf to Pelleus the governyng

Of al his regne and made hym lord and kyng.

Of which Eson this Jason geten was,

That in his tyme in al that land there nas

Nat swich a famous knyght of gentilesse,

Of fredom, and of strengthe and lustynesse.

After his fadres deth he bar hym so

That there nas non that liste ben his fo,

But dide hym al honour and companye.

Of which this Pelleus hadde gret envye,

1410 Imagynynge that Jason myghte be

Enhaunsed so and put in swich degre

With love of lordes of his regioun,

That from his regne he may ben put adoun.

And in his wit a-nyght compassed he

How Jason myghte best distroyed be

Withoute sclaunder of his compassement,

And at the last he tok avysement

To senden hym into som fer contre,

There as this Jason may destroyed be.

1420 This was his wit, al made he to Jasoun

Gret chere of love and of affeccioun,

For drede lest his lordes it espide.

So fyl it, so as fame renneth wide,

There was swich tydyng overal and swich loos,

That in an yle that called was Colcos,

Beyonde Troye, estward in the se,

That therin was a ram that men mighte se

That hadde a fles of gold that shon so bryghte

That nowher was ther swich anothir syghte;

1430 But it was kept alwey with a dragoun,

And many other merveyles, up and doun,

And with two boles maked al of bras,

That spitten fyr, and moche thyng there was.

But this was ek the tale, natheles,

That whoso wolde wynne thylke fles,

He moste bothe, or he it wynne myghte,

With the boles and the dragoun fyghte.

And kyng Oetes lord was of that yle.

This Pelleus bethoughte upon this wile,

1440 That he his neveu Jason wolde enhorte

To saylen to that lond, hym to disporte,

And seyde, "Nevew, if it myghte be

That swich a worshipe myghte fallen the,

That thow this famous tresor myghtest wynne,

And bryngen it my regioun withinne,

It were to me gret plesaunce and honour.

Thanne were I holde to quyte thy labour;

And al the cost I wol myselven make.

And chees what folk that thow wilt with the take;

1450 Lat sen now, darst thow take this viage?"

Jason was yong, and lusty of corage,

And undertok to don this ilke empryse.

Anon Argus his shipes gan devyse;

With Jason wente the stronge Ercules,

And many another that he with hym ches.

But whoso axeth who is with hym gon,

Lat hym go rede Argonautycon,

For he wole telle a tale long ynogh.

Philotetes anon the sayl up drogh,

1460 Whan that the wynd was good, and gan hym hye

Out of his contre called Thessalye.

So longe he seyled in the salte se,

Til in the yle of Lemnon aryvede he --

Al be this nat rehersed of Guido,

Yit seyth Ovyde in his Epistels so --

And of this ile lady was and quene

The fayre yonge Ysiphele, the shene,

That whylom Thoas doughter was, the kyng.

Isiphile was gon in hire pleying,

1470 And, romynge on the clyves by the se,

Under a banke anon aspied she

Where that the ship of Jason gan aryve.

Of hire goodnesse adoun she sendeth blyve

To witen if that any straunge wight

With tempest thider were yblowe a-nyght,

To don him socour, as was hire usaunce

To fortheren every wight, and don plesaunce

Of verrey bounte and of curteysye.

This messangeer adoun hym gan to hye,

1480 And fond Jason and Ercules also,

That in a cog to londe were ygo,

Hem to refreshen and to take the eyr.

The morwenynge attempre was and fayr,

And in his weye this messanger hem mette.

Ful cunnyngly these lordes two he grette,

And dide his message, axinge hem anon

If they were broken, or ought wo begon,

Or hadden nede of lodman or vitayle;

For of socour they sholde nothyng fayle,

1490 For it was outrely the quenes wille.

Jason answerde mekely and stylle:

"My lady," quod he, "thanke I hertely

Of hire goodnesse; us nedeth, trewely,

Nothyng as now, but that we wery be,

And come for to pleye out of the se

Tyl that the wynd be better in oure weye."

This lady rometh by the clyf to pleye,

With hire meyne, endelong the stronde,

And fynt this Jason and this other stonde

1500 In spekynge of this thyng, as I yow tolde.

This Ercules and Jason gan beholde

How that the queen it was, and fayre hire grette

Anon-ryght as they with this lady mette;

And she tok hed, and knew by hyre manere,

By hire aray, by wordes, and by chere,

That it were gentil-men of gret degre,

And to the castel with hire ledeth she

These straunge folk and doth hem gret honour,

And axeth hem of travayle and labour

1510 That they han suffered in the salte se;

So that, withinne a day, or two, or thre,

She knew, by folk that in his shipes be,

That it was Jason, ful of renone,

And Ercules, that hadde the grete los,

That soughten the aventures of Colcos;

And dide hem honour more than before,

And with hem deled evere lenger the more,

For they ben worthy folk, withouten les.

And namely, most she spak with Ercules;

1520 To hym hire herte bar, he shulde be

Sad, wys, and trewe, of wordes avyse,

Withouten any other affeccioun

Of love, or evyl ymagynacyoun.

This Ercules hath so this Jason preysed

That to the sonne he hath hym up areysed,

That half so trewe a man there nas of love

Under the cope of heven that is above;

And he was wis, hardy, secre, and ryche.

Of these thre poyntes there nas non hym liche:

1530 Of fredom passede he, and lustyhede,

Alle tho that lyven or been dede;

Therto so gret a gentilman was he,

And of Thessalye likly kyng to be.

There nas no lak, but that he was agast

To love, and for to speke shamefast.

He hadde lever hymself to morder, and dye,

Than that men shulde a lovere hym espye.

"As wolde God that I hadde yive

My blod and flesh, so that I myghte live,

1540 With the nones that he hadde owher a wif

For hys estat; for swich a lusty lyf

She shulde lede with this lusty knyght!"

And al this was compassed on the nyght

Bytwixe hym Jason and this Ercules.

Of these two here was a shrewed lees,

To come to hous upon an innocent!

For to bedote this queen was here assent.

And Jason is as coy as is a mayde;

He loketh pitously, but nought he sayde,

1550 But frely yaf he to hire conseyleres

Yiftes grete, and to hire officeres.

As wolde God I leyser hadde and tyme

By proces al his wowyng for to ryme!

But in this hous if any fals lovere be,

Ryght as hymself now doth, ryght so dide he,

With feynynge, and with every subtil dede.

Ye gete namore of me, but ye wole rede

Th' origynal, that telleth al the cas.

The somme is this: that Jason wedded was

1560 Unto this queen and tok of hir substaunce

What so hym leste unto his purveyaunce;

And upon hire begat he children two,

And drogh his sayl and saw hir nevere mo.

A letter sente she to hym, certeyn,

Which were to longe to wryten and to sen,

And hym reprevith of his grete untrouthe,

And preyeth him on hire to have som routhe.

And of his children two she seyde hym this:

That they ben lyk of alle thyng, ywis,

1570 To Jason, save they coude nat begile;

And preyede God, or it were longe while,

That she that hadde his herte yraft hire fro

Moste fynden hym untrewe to hir also,

And that she moste bothe hire chyldren spylle,

And alle tho that sufferede hym his wille.

And trewe to Jason was she al hire lyf,

And evere kepte hire chast, as for his wif;

Ne nevere hadde she joye at hire herte,

But deyede for his love, of sorwes smerte.

1580 To Colcos comen is this duc Jasoun,

That is of love devourer and dragoun.

As mater apetiteth forme alwey

And from forme into forme it passen may,

Or as a welle that were botomles,

Ryght so can false Jason have no pes.

For to desyren thourgh his apetit

To don with gentil women his delyt,

This is his lust and his felicite.

Jason is romed forth to the cyte

1590 That whilom cleped was Jaconitos,

That was the mayster-toun of al Colcos,

And hath ytold the cause of his comyng

Unto Oetes, of that contre kyng,

Preyinge hym that he moste don his assay

To gete the fles of gold if that he may;

Of which the kyng assenteth to his bone,

And doth hym honour, as it was to done,

So fer forth that his doughter and his eyr,

Medea, which that was so wis and fayr

1600 That fayrer say there nevere man with ye,

He made hire don to Jason companye

At mete, and sitte by hym in the halle.

Now was Jason a semely man withalle,

And lyk a lord, and hadde a gret renoun,

And of his lok as real as a leoun,

And goodly of his speche, and familer,

And coude of love al craft and art pleyner

Withoute bok, with everych observaunce.

And, as Fortune hire oughte a foul myschaunce,

1610 She wex enamoured upon this man.

"Jason," quod she, "for ought I se or can,

As of this thyng the whiche ye ben aboute,

Ye han youreself yput in moche doute.

For whoso wol this aventure acheve,

He may nat wel asterten, as I leve,

Withouten deth, but I his helpe be.

But natheles, it is my wylle," quod she,

"To fortheren yow so that ye shal nat die,

But turnen sound hom to youre Tessalye."

1620 "My ryghte lady," quod this Jason tho,

"That ye han of my deth or of my wo

Any reward, and don me this honour,

I wot wel that my myght ne my labour

May nat disserve it in my lyves day.

God thanke yow there I ne can ne may!

Youre man I am, and lowely yow beseche

To ben my helpe, withoute more speche;

But, certes, for my deth shal I nat spare."

Tho gan this Medea to hym declare

1630 The peril of this cas from poynt to poynt,

And of his batayle, and in what disjoynt

He mote stonde, of which no creature

Save only she ne myghte his lyf assure.

And shortly to the poynt ryght for to go,

They been acorded ful bytwixe hem two

That Jason shal hire wedde, as trewe knyght;

And terme set to come sone at nyght

Unto hire chamber and make there his oth

Upon the goddes, that he for lef or loth

1640 Ne sholde nevere hire false, nyght ne day,

To ben hire husbonde whil he lyve may,

As she that from his deth hym saved here.

And hereupon at nyght they mette in-feere,

And doth his oth, and goth with hire to bedde;

And on the morwe upward he hym spedde,

For she hath taught hym how he shal nat fayle

The fles to wynne and stynten his batayle;

And saved hym his lyf and his honour;

And gat hym a name ryght as a conquerour,

1650 Ryght thourgh the sleyghte of hire enchauntement.

Now hath Jason the fles, and hom is went

With Medea, and tresor ful gret won;

But unwist of hire fader is she gon

To Tessaly with Duk Jason hire lef,

That afterward hath brought hire to myschef.

For as a traytour he is from hire go,

And with hire lafte his yonge children two,

And falsly hath betraysed hire, allas,

As evere in love a chef traytour he was;

1660 And wedded yit the thridde wif anon,

That was the doughter of the kyng Creon.

This is the mede of lovynge and guerdoun

That Medea receyved of Jasoun

Ryght for hire trouthe and for hire kyndenesse,

That lovede hym beter than hireself, I gesse,

And lafte hire fader and hire herytage.

And of Jason this is the vassellage,

That in his dayes nas ther non yfounde

So fals a lovere goinge on the grounde.

1670 And therfore in hire letter thus she seyde

Fyrst, whan she of his falsnesse hym upbreyde:

"Whi lykede me thy yelwe her to se

More than the boundes of myn honeste?

Why lykede me thy youthe and thy fayrnesse,

And of thy tonge, the infynyt graciousnesse?

O, haddest thow in thy conquest ded ybe,

Ful mikel untrouthe hadde ther deyd with the!"

Wel can Ovyde hire letter in vers endyte,

Which were as now to long for me to wryte.

1680 Now mot I seyn the exilynge of kynges

Of Rome, for here horible doinges,

And of the laste kyng Tarquinius,

As seyth Ovyde and Titus Lyvius.

But for that cause telle I nat this storye,

But for to preyse and drawe to memorye

The verray wif, the verray trewe Lucresse,

That for hyre wifhod and hire stedefastnesse

Nat only that these payens hire comende,

But he that cleped is in oure legende

1690 The grete Austyn hath gret compassioun

Of this Lucresse, that starf at Rome toun;

And in what wise, I wol but shortly trete,

And of this thyng I touche but the grete.

Whan Ardea beseged was aboute

With Romeyns, that ful sterne were and stoute,

Ful longe lay the sege and lytel wroughten,

So that they were half idel, as hem thoughten;

And in his pley Tarquinius the yonge

Gan for to jape, for he was lyght of tonge,

1700 And seyde that it was an ydel lyf;

No man dide there no more than his wif.

"And lat us speke of wyves, that is best;

Preyse every man his owene as hym lest,

And with oure speche lat us ese oure herte."

A knyght that highte Colatyn up sterte,

And seyde thus: "Nay, sire, it is no nede

To trowen on the word, but on the dede.

I have a wif," quod he, "that, as I trowe,

Is holden good of alle that evere hire knowe.

1710 Go we to-nyght to Rome, and we shal se."

Tarquinius answerde, "That liketh me."

To Rome be they come, and faste hem dyghte

To Colatynes hous and doun they lyghte,

Tarquinius and ek this Colatyn.

The husbonde knew the estris wel and fyn,

And prively into the hous they gon,

Nor at the yate porter nas there non,

And at the chambre-dore they abyde.

This noble wif sat by hire beddes side

1720 Dischevele, for no malyce she ne thoughte;

And softe wolle oure bok seyth that she wroughte

To kepen hire from slouthe and idelnesse;

And bad hire servaunts don hire besynesse,

And axeth hem, "What tydyngs heren ye?

How seyth men of the sege, how shal it be?

God wolde the walles were falle adoun!

Myn husbonde is to longe out of this toun,

For which the drede doth me so to smerte

That with a swerd it stingeth to myn herte

1730 Whan I thynke on the sege or on that place.

God save my lord, I preye hym for his grace!"

And therwithal ful tenderly she wep,

And of hire werk she tok no more kep,

And mekely she let hyre eyen falle;

And thilke semblaunt sat hire wel withalle.

And eek hire teres, ful of honeste,

Embelished hire wifly chastite;

Hyre contenaunce is to hire herte dygne,

For they acorde bothe in dede and sygne.

1740 And with that word hire husbonde Colatyn,

Or she of him was war, com stertynge in

And seyde, "Drede the nat, for I am here!"

And she anon up ros with blysful chere

And kiste hym, as of wives is the wone.

Tarquinius, this proude kynges sone,

Conceyved hath hire beaute and hyre cheere,

Hire yelwe her, hire shap, and hire manere,

Hire hew, hire wordes, that she hath compleyned

(And by no craft hire beaute nas nat feyned),

1750 And caughte to this lady swich desyr

That in his herte brende as any fyr,

So wodly that his wit was al forgeten.

For wel thoghte he she wolde nat ben geten;

And ay the more that he was in dispayr,

The more he coveyteth and thoughte hire fayr.

His blynde lust was al his coveytynge.

A-morwe, whan the brid began to synge,

Unto the sege he cometh ful privily,

And by hymself he walketh soberly,

1760 Th' ymage of hire recordynge alwey newe:

"Thus lay hire her, and thus fresh was hyre hewe;

Thus sat, thus spak, thus span; this was hire chere;

Thus fayr she was, and this was hire manere."

Al this conseit hys herte hath newe ytake.

And as the se, with tempest al toshake,

That after, whan the storm is al ago,

Yit wol the water quappe a day or two,

Ryght so, thogh that hire forme were absent,

The plesaunce of hire forme was present;

1770 But natheles, nat plesaunce but delit,

Or an unrightful talent, with dispit --

"For, maugre hyre, she shal my leman be!

Hap helpeth hardy man alday," quod he;

"What ende that I make, it shal be so."

And girte hym with his swerd and gan to go,

And forth he rit til he to Rome is come,

And al alone his wey than hath he nome

Unto the hous of Colatyn ful ryght.

Doun was the sonne and day hath lost his lyght;

1780 And in he cometh into a prive halke,

And in the nyght ful thefly gan he stalke,

Whan every wight was to his reste brought,

Ne no wight hadde of tresoun swich a thought.

Were it by wyndow or by other gyn,

With swerd ydrawe shortly he com in

There as she lay, this noble wif Lucresse.

And as she wok, hire bed she felte presse.

"What beste is that," quod she, "that weyeth thus?"

"I am the kynges sone, Tarquinius,"

1790 Quod he, "but, and thow crye or noyse make,

Or if there any creature awake,

By thilke God that formed man alyve,

This swerd thourghout thyn herte shal I ryve."

And therwithal unto hire throte he sterte,

And sette the poynt al sharp upon hire herte.

No word she spak, she hath no myght therto.

What shal she seyn? Hire wit is al ago.

Ryght as a wolf that fynt a lomb alone,

To whom shal she compleyne or make mone?

1800 What, shal she fyghte with an hardy knyght?

Wel wot men that a woman hath no myght.

What, shal she crye, or how shal she asterte

That hath hire by the throte with swerd at herte?

She axeth grace, and seyth al that she can.

"Ne wilt thow nat," quod he, this crewel man,

"As wisly Jupiter my soule save,

As I shal in the stable slen thy knave,

And ley hym in thy bed, and loude crye

That I the fynde in swich avouterye.

1810 And thus thow shalt be ded and also lese

Thy name, for thow shalt non other chese."

These Romeyns wyves lovede so here name

At thilke tyme, and dredde so the shame,

That, what for fer of sclaunder and drede of deth,

She loste bothe at ones wit and breth,

And in a swogh she lay, and wex so ded

Men myghte smyten of hire arm or hed;

She feleth no thyng, neyther foul ne fayr.

Tarquinius, that art a kynges eyr,

1820 And sholdest, as by lynage and by ryght,

Don as a lord and as a verray knyght,

Whi hastow don dispit to chivalrye?

Whi hastow don this lady vilanye?

Allas, of the this was a vileyns dede!

But now to purpos; in the story I rede,

Whan he was gon and this myschaunce is falle,

This lady sente after hire frendes alle,

Fader, moder, husbonde, alle yfeere;

And al dischevele, with hire heres cleere,

1830 In habit swich as women used tho

Unto the buryinge of hire frendes go,

She sit in halle with a sorweful sighte.

Hyre frendes axen what hire eylen myghte,

And who was ded; and she sit ay wepynge;

A word, for shame, forth ne myght she brynge,

Ne upon hem she durste nat beholde.

But atte last of Tarquyny she hem tolde

This rewful cas and al thys thing horryble.

The woo to tellen were an impossible,

1840 That she and al hir frendes made attones.

Al hadde folkes hertes ben of stones,

Hyt myght have maked hem upon hir rewe,

Hir herte was so wyfly and so trewe.

She sayde that, for hir gylt ne for hir blame,

Hir husbonde shulde nat have the foule name,

That wolde she nat suffre by no wey.

And they answerden alle, upon hir fey,

That they forgave yt hyr, for yt was ryght;

It was no gilt, it lay not in hir myght;

1850 And seyden hir ensamples many oon.

But al for noght; for thus she seyde anoon:

"Be as be may," quod she, "of forgyvyng,

I wol not have noo forgyft for nothing."

But pryvely she kaughte forth a knyf,

And therwithal she rafte hirself hir lyf;

And as she fel adoun, she kaste hir lok,

And of hir clothes yet she hede tok.

For in hir fallynge yet she had a care,

Lest that hir fet or suche thyng lay bare;

1860 So wel she loved clennesse and eke trouthe.

Of hir had al the toun of Rome routhe,

And Brutus by hir chaste blood hath swore

That Tarquyn shulde ybanysshed be therfore,

And al hys kyn; and let the peple calle,

And openly the tale he tolde hem alle,

And openly let cary her on a bere

Thurgh al the toun, that men may see and here

The horryble dede of hir oppressyoun,

Ne never was ther kyng in Rome toun

1870 Syn thilke day; and she was holden there

A seynt, and ever hir day yhalwed dere

As in hir lawe; and thus endeth Lucresse,

The noble wyf, as Tytus bereth witnesse.

I telle hyt for she was of love so trewe,

Ne in hir wille she chaunged for no newe;

And for the stable herte, sadde and kynde,

That in these wymmen men may alday fynde.

Ther as they kaste hir herte, there it dwelleth.

For wel I wot that Crist himselve telleth

1880 That in Israel, as wyd as is the lond,

That so gret feyth in al that he ne fond

As in a woman; and this is no lye.

And as of men, loke ye which tirannye

They doon alday; assay hem whoso lyste,

The trewest ys ful brotel for to triste.

Juge infernal, Mynos, of Crete kyng,

Now cometh thy lot, now comestow on the ryng.

Nat for thy sake oonly write I this storye,

But for to clepe ageyn unto memorye

1890 Of Theseus the grete untrouthe of love;

For which the goddes of the heven above

Ben wrothe, and wreche han take for thy synne.

Be red for shame! Now I thy lyf begynne.

Mynos, that was the myghty kyng of Crete,

That hadde an hundred citees stronge and grete,

To scole hath sent hys sone Androgeus,

To Athenes; of the which hyt happed thus,

That he was slayn, lernynge philosophie,

Ryght in that citee, nat but for envye.

1900 The grete Mynos, of the which I speke,

Hys sones deth ys come for to wreke.

Alcathoe he besegeth harde and longe;

But natheles, the walles be so stronge,

And Nysus, that was kyng of that citee,

So chevalrous, that lytel dredeth he;

Of Mynos or hys ost tok he no cure,

Til on a day befel an aventure,

That Nysus doughter stod upon the wal,

And of the sege saw the maner al.

1910 So happed it that at a scarmishyng

She caste hire herte upon Mynos the kyng,

For his beaute and for his chyvalrye,

So sore that she wende for to dye.

And, shortly of this proces for to pace,

She made Mynos wynnen thilke place,

So that the cite was al at his wille,

To saven whom hym leste or elles spille.

But wikkedly he quitte hire kyndenesse,

And let hire drenche in sorwe and distresse,

1920 Nere that the goddes hadde of hire pite;

But that tale were to long as now for me.

Athenes wan thys kyng Mynos also,

As Alcathoe, and other tounes mo.

And this th' effect, that Mynos hath so driven

Hem of Athenes that they mote hym yiven

From yer to yer hire owene children dere

For to be slayne right as ye shal here.

This Mynos hadde a monstre, a wiked best,

That was so crewel that, withoute arest,

1930 Whan that a man was brought in his presence,

He wolde hym ete; ther helpeth no defence.

And every thridde yeer, withouten doute,

They caste lot, and as it com aboute

On riche, on pore, he moste his sone take,

And of his child he moste present make

Unto Minos, to save hym or to spylle,

Or lete his best devoure hym at his wille.

And this hath Mynos don, ryght in dispit;

To wreke his sone was set al his delyt,

1940 And maken hem of Athenes his thral

From yer to yer, whil that he liven shal;

And hom he sayleth whan this toun is wonne.

This wiked custom is so longe yronne,

Til that of Athenes kyng Egeus

Mot senden his owene sone, Theseus,

Sith that the lot is fallen hym upon,

To ben devoured, for grace is there non.

And forth is lad this woful yonge knyght

Unto the court of kyng Mynos ful ryght,

1950 And into a prysoun, fetered, cast is he

Tyl thilke tyme he sholde freten be.

Wel maystow wepe, O woful Theseus,

That art a kynges sone, and dampned thus.

Me thynketh this, that thow were depe yholde

To whom that savede thee from cares colde!

And if now any woman helpe the,

Wel oughtestow hire servaunt for to be,

And ben hire trewe lovere yer be yere!

But now to come ageyn to my matere.

1960 The tour there as this Theseus is throwe

Doun in the botom derk and wonder lowe,

Was joynynge in the wal to a foreyne;

And it was longynge to the doughtren tweyne

Of Mynos, that in hire chaumbers grete

Dwellten above, toward the mayster-strete

Of Athenes, in joye and in solas.

Noot I not how, it happede par cas,

As Theseus compleynede hym by nyghte,

The kynges doughter, Adryane that highte,

1970 And ek hire syster Phedra, herden al

His compleynynge as they stode on the wal

And lokeden upon the bryghte mone.

Hem leste nat to go to bedde so sone;

And of his wo they hadde compassioun.

A kynges sone to ben in swich prysoun,

And ben devoured, thoughte hem gret pite.

This Adryane spak to hire syster fre,

And seyde, "Phedra, leve syster dere,

This woful lordes sone may ye nat here,

1980 How pitously compleyneth he his kyn,

And ek his povre estat that he is in,

And gilteles? Now, certes, it is routhe!

And if ye wol assenten, by my trouthe,

He shal ben holpen, how so that we do."

Phedra answerde, "Ywis, me is as wo

For hym as evere I was for any man;

And, to his help, the beste red I can

Is that we do the gayler prively

To come and speke with us hastily,

1990 And don this woful man with hym to come.

For if he may this monstre overcome,

Thanne were he quyt; ther is non other bote.

Lat us wel taste hym at his herte-rote,

That if so be that he a wepen have,

Wher that he dar, his lyf to kepe and save,

Fyghten with the fend, and hym defende.

For in the prysoun ther he shal descende,

Ye wote wel that the beste is in a place

That nys nat derk, and hath roum eek and space

2000 To welde an ax, or swerd, or staf, or knyf;

So that, me thynketh, he shulde save his lyf.

If that he be a man, he shal do so.

And we shul make hym balles ek also

Of wex and tow, that whan he gapeth faste,

Into the bestes throte he shal hem caste

To slake his hunger and encombre his teth;

And right anon, whan that Theseus seth

The beste achoked, he shal on hym lepe

To slen hym or they comen more to-hepe.

2010 This wepen shal the gayler, or that tyde,

Ful prively withinne the prysoun hyde;

And for the hous is krynkeled to and fro,

And hath so queynte weyes for to go --

For it is shapen as the mase is wrought --

Therto have I a remedye in my thought,

That, by a clewe of twyn, as he hath gon,

The same weye he may returne anon,

Folwynge alwey the thred as he hath come.

And whan that he this beste hath overcome,

2020 Thanne may he flen awey out of this drede,

And ek the gayler may he with hym lede,

And hym avaunce at hom in his cuntre,

Syn that so gret a lordes sone is he.

This is my red, if that he dar it take."

What sholde I lenger sarmoun of it make?

This gayler cometh, and with hym Theseus.

Whan these thynges ben acorded thus,

Adoun sit Theseus upon his kne --

"The ryghte lady of my lyf," quod he,

2030 "I, sorweful man, ydampned to the deth,

Fro yow, whil that me lasteth lyf or breth,

I wol nat twynne, after this aventure,

But in youre servise thus I wol endure,

That, as a wreche unknowe, I wol yow serve

For everemo, til that myn herte sterve.

Forsake I wol at hom myn herytage,

And, as I seyde, ben of youre court a page,

If that ye vouche-sauf that in this place

Ye graunte me to han so gret a grace

2040 That I may han nat but my mete and drynke.

And for my sustenaunce yit wol I swynke,

Ryght as yow leste, that Mynos ne no wight --

Syn that he saw me nevere with eyen syght --

Ne no man elles, shal me conne espye;

So slyly and so wel I shal me gye,

And me so wel disfigure and so lowe,

That in this world ther shal no man me knowe,

To han my lyf, and for to han presence

Of yow, that don to me this excellence.

2050 And to my fader shal I sende here

This worthy man that is now youre gaylere,

And hym so gwerdone that he shal wel be

Oon of the gretteste men of my cuntre.

And if I durste seyn, my lady bryght,

I am a kynges sone and ek a knyght.

As wolde God, if that it myghte be

Ye weren in my cuntre, alle thre,

And I with yow to bere yow compaignye,

Thanne shulde ye se if that I therof lye.

2060 And if I profre yow in low manere

To ben youre page and serven yow ryght here,

But I yow serve as lowly in that place,

I preye to Mars to yeve me swich a grace

That shames deth on me ther mote falle,

And deth and poverte to my frendes alle;

And that my spirit by nyghte mote go,

After my deth, and walke to and fro,

That I mote of traytour have a name,

For which my spirit go, to do me shame!

2070 And if I evere cleyme other degre,

But if ye vouche-sauf to yeve it me,

As I have seyd, of shames deth I deye!

And mercy, lady! I can nat elles seye."

A semely knyght was Theseus to se,

And yong, but of a twenty yer and thre.

But whoso hadde seyn his contenaunce,

He wolde have wept for routhe of his penaunce;

For which this Adryane in this manere

Answerde hym to his profre and to his chere:

2080 "A kynges sone, and ek a knyght," quod she,

"To ben my servaunt in so low degre,

God shilde it, for the shame of wemen alle,

And lene me nevere swich a cas befalle!

But sende yow grace of herte and sleyghte also,

Yow to defende and knyghtly slen youre fo,

And leve hereafter that I may yow fynde

To me and to my syster here so kynde,

That I repente nat to yeve yow lyf!

Yit were it betere that I were youre wyf,

2090 Syn that ye ben as gentil born as I,

And have a reaume, nat but faste by,

Than that I suffered, gilteles, yow sterve,

Or that I let yow as a page serve.

It nys no profre as unto youre kynrede;

But what is that that man nyl don for drede?

And to my syster, syn that it is so

That she mot gon with me, if that I go,

Or elles suffre deth as wel as I,

That ye unto youre sone as trewely

2100 Don hire ben wedded at youre hom-comyng.

This is the final ende of al this thyng;

Ye swere it here, upon al that may be sworn."

"Ye, lady myn," quod he, "or ellis torn

Mote I be with the Mynotaur to-morwe!

And haveth hereof myn herte blod to borwe,

If that ye wole; if I hadde knyf or spere,

I wolde it laten out, and theron swere,

For thanne at erst I wot ye wole me leve.

By Mars, that is the chef of my beleve,

2110 So that I myghte liven and nat fayle

To-morwe for t' acheve my batayle,

I wolde nevere from this place fle,

Til that ye shulde the verray preve se.

For now, if that the sothe I shal yow say,

I have yloved yow ful many a day,

Thogh ye ne wiste it nat, in my cuntre,

And aldermost desired yow to se

Of any erthly livynge creature.

Upon my trouthe I swere and yow assure,

2120 This sevene yer I have youre servaunt be.

Now have I yow, and also have ye me,

My dere herte, of Athenes duchesse!"

This lady smyleth at his stedefastnesse,

And at his hertely wordes and his chere,

And to hyre sister seyde in this manere,

Al softely: "Now, syster myn," quod she,

"Now be we duchesses, bothe I and ye,

And sekered to the regals of Athenes,

And bothe hereafter likly to ben quenes;

2130 And saved from his deth a kynges sone,

As evere of gentil women is the wone

To save a gentyl man, emforth hire myght,

In honest cause, and namely in his ryght.

Me thynketh no wight oughte us herof blame,

Ne beren us therfore an evil name."

And shortly of this mater for to make,

This Theseus of hire hath leve take,

And every poynt was performed in dede

As ye han in this covenaunt herd me rede.

2140 His wepne, his clewe, his thyng, that I have sayd,

Was by the gayler in the hous yleyd,

Ther as the Mynotaur hath his dwellynge,

Ryght faste by the dore, at his entrynge.

And Theseus is lad unto his deth,

And forth unto this Mynotaur he geth,

And by the techynge of this Adryane

He overcom this beste and was his bane;

And out he cometh by the clewe agayn

Ful prively, whan he this beste hath slayn;

2150 And by the gayler geten hath a barge,

And of his wyves tresor gan it charge,

And tok his wif, and ek hire sister fre,

And ek the gayler, and with hem alle thre

Is stole awey out of the lond by nyghte,

And to the contre of Ennopye hym dyghte

There as he hadde a frend of his knowynge.

There feste they, there daunce they and synge;

And in his armes hath this Adryane,

That of the beste hath kept hym from his bane;

2160 And gat hym there a newe barge anon,

And of his contre-folk a ful gret won,

And taketh his leve, and homward sayleth he.

And in an yle amyd the wilde se,

Ther as there dwelled creature non

Save wilde bestes, and that ful many oon,

He made his ship a-londe for to sette;

And in that yle half a day he lette,

And seyde that on the lond he moste hym reste.

His maryners han don ryght as hym leste;

2170 And, for to tellen shortly in this cas,

Whan Adryane his wif aslepe was,

For that hire syster fayrer was than she,

He taketh hire in his hond and forth goth he

To shipe, and as a traytour stal his wey,

Whil that this Adryane aslepe lay,

And to his contre-ward he sayleth blyve --

A twenty devel-wey the wynd hym dryve! --

And fond his fader drenched in the se.

Me lest no more to speke of hym, parde.

2180 These false lovers, poysoun be here bane!

But I wol turne ageyn to Adryane,

That is with slep for werynesse atake.

Ful sorwefully hire herte may awake.

Allas, for thee myn herte hath now pite!

Ryght in the dawenyng awaketh she,

And gropeth in the bed, and fond ryght nought.

"Allas," quod she, "that evere I was wrought!

I am betrayed!" and hire her torente,

And to the stronde barefot faste she wente,

2190 And cryed, "Theseus, myn herte swete!

Where be ye, that I may nat with yow mete,

And myghte thus with bestes ben yslayn?"

The holwe rokkes answerde hire agayn.

No man she saw, and yit shyned the mone,

And hye upon a rokke she wente sone,

And saw his barge saylynge in the se.

Cold wex hire herte, and ryght thus seyde she:

"Meker than ye fynde I the bestes wilde!"

Hadde he nat synne that hire thus begylde?

2200 She cryed, "O turn ageyn, for routhe and synne!

Thy barge hath nat al his meyne inne!"

Hire coverchef on a pole up steked she,

Ascaunce that he shulde it wel yse,

And hym remembre that she was behynde,

And turne ageyn, and on the stronde hire fynde.

But al for nought; his wey he is ygon.

Adoun she fyl aswoune upon a ston;

And up she rist, and kyssed, in al hire care,

The steppes of his fet ther he hath fare,

2210 And to hire bed ryght thus she speketh tho:

"Thow bed," quod she, "that hast receyved two,

Thow shalt answere of two, and nat of oon!

Where is thy gretter part awey ygon?

Allas! Where shal I, wreche wight, become?

For thogh so be that ship or boot here come,

Hom to my contre dar I nat for drede.

I can myselven in this cas nat rede."

What shulde I more telle hire compleynyng?

It is so long, it were an hevy thyng.

2220 In hire Epistel Naso telleth al;

But shortly to the ende I telle shal.

The goddes han hire holpen for pite,

And in the signe of Taurus men may se

The stones of hire corone shyne clere.

I wol no more speke of this mateere;

But thus this false lovere can begyle

His trewe love, the devel quyte hym his while!

Thow yevere of the formes, that hast wrought

This fayre world and bar it in thy thought

2230 Eternaly er thow thy werk began,

Why madest thow, unto the slaunder of man,

Or, al be that it was nat thy doing,

As for that fyn, to make swich a thyng,

Whi sufferest thow that Tereus was bore,

That is in love so fals and so forswore,

That fro this world up to the firste hevene

Corrumpeth whan that folk his name nevene?

And, as to me, so grisely was his dede

That, whan that I his foule storye rede,

2240 Myne eyen wexe foule and sore also.

Yit last the venym of so longe ago,

That it enfecteth hym that wol beholde

The storye of Tereus, of which I tolde.

Of Trace was he lord, and kyn to Marte,

The crewel god that stant with blody darte;

And wedded hadde he, with a blysful cheere,

Kyng Pandiones fayre doughter dere,

That highte Progne, flour of hire cuntre,

Thogh Juno lyst nat at the feste to be,

2250 Ne Imeneus that god of wedyng is.

But at the feste redy ben, ywis,

The Furies thre with al here mortal brond.

The oule al nyght aboute the balkes wond,

That prophete is of wo and of myschaunce.

This revel, ful of song and ek of daunce,

Laste a fortenyght, or lytel lasse.

But shortly of this story for to passe,

For I am wery of hym for to telle,

Fyve yer his wif and he togeder dwelle,

2260 Til on a day she gan so sore longe

To sen hire sister that she say nat longe,

That for desyr she nyste what to seye.

But to hire husbonde gan she for to preye,

For Godes love, that she moste ones gon

Hyre syster for to sen, and come anon,

Or elles, but she moste to hire wende,

She preyde hym that he wolde after hire sende;

And this was day by day al hire preyere,

With al humblesse of wifhod, word and chere.

2270 This Tereus let make his shipes yare,

And into Grece hymself is forth yfare.

Unto his fadyr-in-lawe gan he preye

To vouche-sauf that for a month or tweye

That Philomene, his wyves syster, myghte

On Progne his wyf but ones han a syghte --

"And she shal come to yow ageyn anon.

Myself with hyre wol bothe come and gon,

And as myn hertes lyf I wol hire kepe."

This olde Pandion, this kyng, gan wepe

2280 For tendernesse of herte for to leve

His doughter gon, and for to yeve hire leve;

Of al this world he loveth nothyng so;

But at the laste leve hath she to go.

For Philomene with salte teres eke

Gan of hire fader grace to beseke

To sen hire syster that she loveth so,

And hym embraseth with hire armes two.

And therwithal so yong and fayr was she

That, whan that Tereus saw hire beaute,

2290 And of aray that there was non hire lyche,

And yit of beaute was she two so ryche,

He caste his fyry herte upon hyre so

That he wol have hir, how so that it go;

And with his wiles kneled and so preyde,

Tyl at the laste Pandyon thus seyde:

"Now, sone," quod he, "that art to me so dere,

I the betake my yonge doughter here

That bereth the keye of al myn hertes lyf.

And gret me wel my doughter and thy wif,

2300 And yif hire leve somtyme for to pleye,

That she may sen me ones er I deye."

And sothly, he hath mad hym riche feste,

And to his folk, the moste and ek the leste,

That with hym com; and yaf hym yiftes grete,

And hym conveyeth thourgh the mayster-strete

Of Athenes, and to the se hym broughte,

And turneth hom; no malyce he ne thoughte.

The ores pullen forth the vessel faste,

And into Trace aryveth at the laste,

2310 And up into a forest he hire ledde,

And to a cave pryvely hym spedde;

And in this derke cave, yif hir leste,

Or leste nat, he bad hire for to reste;

Of which hire herte agros, and seyde thus:

"Where is my sister, brother Tereus?"

And therwithal she wepte tenderly

And quok for fere, pale and pitously,

Ryght as the lamb that of the wolf is biten;

Or as the culver that of the egle is smiten,

2320 And is out of his clawes forth escaped,

Yit it is afered and awhaped,

Lest it be hent eft-sones; so sat she.

But utterly it may non other be.

By force hath this traytour don a dede,

That he hath reft hire of hire maydenhede,

Maugre hire hed, by strengthe and by his myght.

Lo! here a dede of men, and that a ryght!

She cryeth "Syster!" with ful loud a stevene,

And "Fader dere!" and "Help me, God in hevene!"

2330 Al helpeth nat; and yit this false thef

Hath don this lady yit a more myschef,

For fere lest she shulde his shame crye

And don hym openly a vilenye,

And with his swerd hire tonge of kerveth he,

And in a castel made hire for to be

Ful pryvely in prisoun everemore,

And kepte hire to his usage and his store,

So that she myghte hym neveremore asterte.

O sely Philomene, wo is thyn herte!

2340 God wreke thee, and sende the thy bone!

Now is it tyme I make an ende sone.

This Tereus is to his wif ycome,

And in his armes hath his wif ynome,

And pitously he wep and shok his hed,

And swor hir that he fond hir sister ded;

For which this sely Progne hath swich wo

That nygh hire sorweful herte brak a-two.

And thus in terys lete I Progne dwelle,

And of hire sister forth I wol yow telle.

2350 This woful lady lerned hadde in youthe

So that she werken and enbroude couthe,

And weven in hire stol the radevore

As it of wemen hath be woned yore.

And, sothly for to seyne, she hadde hire fille

Of mete and drynk, and clothyng at hire wille.

She coude eek rede and wel ynow endyte,

But with a penne coude she nat wryte.

But letters can she weve to and fro,

So that, by that the yer was al ago,

2360 She hadde ywoven in a stamyn large

How she was brought from Athenes in a barge,

And in a cave how that she was brought;

And al the thyng that Tereus hath wrought,

She waf it wel, and wrot the storye above,

How she was served for hire systers love.

And to a knave a ryng she yaf anon,

And preyed hym by signes for to gon

Unto the queen, and beren hir that cloth,

And by signes swor hym many an oth

2370 She wolde hym yeven what she geten myghte.

This knave anon unto the quene hym dyghte,

And tok it hire, and al the maner tolde.

And whan that Progne hath this thing beholde,

No word she spak, for sorwe and ek for rage,

But feynede hire to gon on pilgrymage

To Bacus temple; and in a litel stounde

Hire dombe sister sittynge hath she founde,

Wepynge in the castel, here alone.

Allas! The wo, the compleynt, and the mone

2380 That Progne upon hire doumbe syster maketh.

In armes everych of hem other taketh,

And thus I late hem in here sorwe dwelle.

The remenaunt is no charge for to telle,

For this is al and som: thus was she served,

That nevere harm agilte ne deserved

Unto this crewel man, that she of wiste.

Ye may be war of men, if that yow liste.

For al be it that he wol nat, for shame,

Don as Tereus, to lese his name,

2390 Ne serve yow as a morderour or a knave,

Ful lytel while shal ye trewe hym have --

That wol I seyn, al were he now my brother --

But it so be that he may have non other.

By preve as wel as by autorite,

That wiked fruit cometh of a wiked tre,

That may ye fynde, if that it like yow.

But for this ende I speke this as now,

To tellen yow of false Demophon.

In love a falser herde I nevere non,

2400 But if it were his fader Theseus.

"God, for his grace, fro swich oon kepe us!"

Thus may these women preyen that it here.

Now to the effect turne I of my matere.

Destroyed is of Troye the cite;

This Demophon com seylynge in the se

Toward Athenes, to his paleys large.

With hym com many a ship and many a barge

Ful of his folk, of whiche ful many oon

Is wounded sore, and sek, and wo begon,

2410 As they han at th' asege longe yleyn.

Byhynde hym com a wynd and ek a reyn

That shof so sore his sayl ne myghte stonde;

Hym were levere than al the world a-londe,

So hunteth hym the tempest to and fro.

So derk it was, he coude nowher go;

And with a wawe brosten was his stere.

His ship was rent so lowe, in swich manere,

That carpenter ne coude it nat amende.

The se, by nyghte, as any torche it brende

2420 For wod, and possith hym now up, now doun,

Til Neptune hath of hym compassioun,

And Thetis, Thorus, Triton, and they alle,

And maden hym upon a lond to falle,

Wherof that Phillis lady was and queene,

Ligurges doughter, fayrer on to sene

Than is the flour ageyn the bryghte sonne.

Unnethe is Demophon to londe ywonne,

Wayk, and ek wery, and his folk forpyned

Of werynesse, and also enfamyned,

2430 That to the deth he almost was ydriven.

His wise folk to conseyl han hym yiven

To seken help and socour of the queen,

And loke what his grace myghte been,

And maken in that lond som chevysaunce,

To kepen hym fro wo and fro myschaunce.

For syk he was, and almost at the deth;

Unnethe myghte he speke or drawe his breth,

And lyth in Rodopeya hym for to reste.

Whan he may walke, hym thoughte it was the beste

2440 Unto the court to seken for socour.

Men knewen hym wel and diden hym honour;

For of Athenes duk and lord was he,

As Theseus his fader hadde be,

That in his tyme was of gret renoun,

No man so gret in al the regyoun,

And lyk his fader of face and of stature,

And fals of love; it com hym of nature.

As doth the fox Renard, the foxes sone,

Of kynde he coude his olde faders wone

2450 Withoute lore, as can a drake swimme

Whan it is caught and caryed to the brymme.

This honurable Phillis doth hym chere;

Hire liketh wel his port and his manere.

But, for I am agroted herebyforn

To wryte of hem that ben in love forsworn,

And ek to haste me in my legende,

(Which to performe God me grace sende)

Therfore I passe shortly in this wyse.

Ye han wel herd of Theseus devyse

2460 In the betraysynge of fayre Adryane

That of hire pite kepte him from his bane.

At shorte wordes, ryght so Demophon

The same wey, the same path hath gon,

That dide his false fader Theseus.

For unto Phillis hath he sworen thus,

To wedden hire, and hire his trouthe plyghte,

And piked of hire al the good he myghte,

Whan he was hol and sound, and hadde his reste;

And doth with Phillis what so that hym leste,

2470 As wel coude I, if that me leste so,

Tellen al his doynge to and fro.

He seyde unto his contre moste he sayle,

For there he wolde hire weddynge aparayle,

As fel to hire honour and his also.

And openly he tok his leve tho,

And hath hire sworn he wolde nat sojorne,

But in a month he wolde ageyn retorne;

And in that lond let make his ordenaunce

As verray lord, and tok the obeysaunce

2480 Wel and homly, and let his shipes dighte,

And hom he goth the nexte wey he myghte.

For unto Phillis yit ne com he nought,

And that hath she so harde and sore abought --

Allas! -- that, as the storyes us recorde,

She was hire owene deth ryght with a corde,

Whan that she saw that Demophon hire trayed.

But to hym first she wrot, and faste him prayed

He wolde come and hire delyvere of peyne,

As I reherce shal a word or tweyne.

2490 Me lyste nat vouche-sauf on hym to swynke,

Ne spende on hym a penne ful of ynke,

For fals in love was he, ryght as his syre.

The devil sette here soules bothe afyre!

But of the letter of Phillis wol I wryte

A word or two, althogh it be but lyte.

"Thyn hostesse," quod she, "O Demophon,

Thy Phillis, which that is so wo begon,

Of Rodopeye, upon yow mot compleyne

Over the terme set bytwixe us tweyne,

2500 That ye ne holde forward, as ye seyde.

Youre anker, which ye in oure haven leyde,

Hyghte us that ye wolde comen, out of doute,

Or that the mone wente ones aboute.

But tymes foure the mone hath hid hire face,

Syn thilke day ye wente from this place,

And foure tymes lyghte the world ageyn.

But for al that, yif I shal soothly seyn,

Yit hath the strem of Sytho nat ybrought

From Athenes the ship; yit cometh it noght.

2510 And if that ye the terme rekene wolde

As I or as a trewe lovere shulde,

I pleyne nat, God wot, byforn my day."

But al hire letter wryten I ne may

By order, for it were to me a charge;

Hire letter was ryght long and therto large.

But here and ther in rym I have it layd,

There as me thoughte that she wel hath sayd.

She seyde, "Thy sayles come nat agen,

Ne to thy word there is no fey certeyn;

2520 But I wot why ye come nat," quod she,

"For I was of my love to yow to fre.

And of the goddes that ye han forswore,

Yif hire vengeaunce falle on yow therfore,

Ye be nat suffisaunt to bere the peyne.

To moche trusted I, wel may I pleyne,

Upon youre lynage and youre fayre tonge,

And on youre teres falsly out yronge.

How coude ye wepe so by craft?" quod she.

"May there swiche teres feyned be?

2530 Now certes, yif ye wol have in memorye,

It oughte be to yow but lyte glorye

To han a sely mayde thus betrayed!

To God," quod she, "preye I, and ofte have prayed,

That it mot be the grettest prys of alle

And most honour that evere the shal befalle!

And whan thyne olde auncestres peynted be,

In which men may here worthynesse se,

Thanne preye I God thow peynted be also

That folk may rede forby as they go,

2540 `Lo! this is he that with his flaterye

Bytraised hath and don hire vilenye

That was his trewe love in thought and dede!'

But sothly, of oo poynt yit may they rede,

That ye ben lyk youre fader as in this,

For he begiled Adriane, ywis,

With swich an art and with swich subtilte

As thow thyselven hast begyled me.

As in that poynt, althogh it be nat fayr,

Thow folwest hym, certayn, and art his ayr.

2550 But syn thus synfully ye me begile,

My body mote ye se withinne a while,

Ryght in the haven of Athenes fletynge,

Withoute sepulture and buryinge,

Thogh ye ben harder than is any ston."

And whan this letter was forth sent anon,

And knew how brotel and how fals he was,

She for dispeyr fordide hyreself, allas.

Swych sorwe hath she, for she besette hire so.

Be war, ye wemen, of youre subtyl fo,

2560 Syn yit this day men may ensaumple se;

And trusteth, as in love, no man but me.

In Grece whilom weren brethren two,

Of whiche that oon was called Danao,

That many a sone hath of his body wonne,

As swiche false lovers ofte conne.

Among his sones alle there was oon

That aldermost he lovede of everychoon.

And whan this child was born, this Danao

Shop hym a name and callede hym Lyno.

2570 That other brother called was Egiste,

That was of love as fals as evere hym liste,

And many a doughter gat he in his lyf;

Of whiche he gat upon his ryghte wyf

A doughter dere, and dide hire for to calle

Ypermystra, yongeste of hem alle.

The whiche child of hire natyvyte

To alle thewes goode yborn was she,

As likede to the goddes er she was born,

That of the shef she sholde be the corn.

2580 The Wirdes, that we clepen Destine,

Hath shapen hire that she mot nedes be

Pyetous, sad, wis, and trewe as stel,

As to these wemen it acordeth wel.

For thogh that Venus yaf hire gret beaute,

With Jupiter compouned so was she

That conscience, trouthe, and drede of shame,

And of hyre wifhod for to kepe hire name,

This, thoughte hire, was felycite as here.

The rede Mars was that tyme of the yeere

2590 So feble that his malyce is hym raft;

Repressed hath Venus his crewel craft,

That, what with Venus and other oppressioun

Of houses, Mars his venim is adoun,

That Ypermystra dar nat handle a knyf

In malyce, thogh she shulde lese hire lyf.

But natheles, as hevene gan tho turne,

To badde aspectes hath she of Saturne,

That made hire for to deyen in prisoun,

As I shal after make mencioun.

2600 To Danao and Egistes also,

Althogh so be that they were brethren two --

For thilke tyme was spared no lynage --

It lykede hem to make a maryage

Bytwixen Ypermystre and hym Lyno,

And casten swich a day it shal be so,

And ful acorded was it utterly;

The aray is wrought, the tyme is faste by.

And thus Lyno hath of his faders brother

The doughter wedded, and ech of hem hath other.

2610 The torches brennen, and the laumpes bryghte;

The sacryfices ben ful redy dighte;

Th' encens out of the fyre reketh sote;

The flour, the lef is rent up by the rote

To maken garlondes and crounes hye.

Ful is the place of soun of minstralsye,

Of songes amorous of maryage,

As thylke tyme was the pleyne usage.

And this was in the paleys of Egiste,

That in his hous was lord, ryght as hym lyste.

2620 And thus the day they dryve to an ende;

The frendes taken leve, and hom they wende;

The nyght is come, the bryd shal go to bedde.

Egistus to his chamber faste hym spedde,

And prively he let his doughter calle.

Whan that the hous was voyded of hem alle,

He loketh on his doughter with glad chere

And to hire spak, as ye shal after here:

"My ryghte doughter, tresor of myn herte,

Syn fyrst that day that shapen was my sherte,

2630 Or by the fatal systren had my dom,

So nygh myn herte nevere thyng ne com

As thow, myn Ypermystre, doughter dere.

Tak hed what I, thy fader, seye the here,

And werk after thy wiser evere mo.

For alderfirst, doughter, I love the so

That al the world to me nis half so lef;

Ne I nolde rede the to thy myschef

For al the good under the colde mone.

And what I mene, it shal be seyd right sone,

2640 With protestacioun, as in this wyse,

That, but thow do as I shal the devyse,

Thow shalt be ded, by hym that al hath wrought!

At shorte wordes, thow ne scapest nought

Out of my paleys or that thow be ded,

But thow consente and werke after my red;

Tak this to thee for ful conclusioun."

This Ypermystre caste hire eyen doun,

And quok as doth the lef of aspe grene.

Ded wex hire hew, and lyk an ash to sene,

2650 And seyde, "Lord and fader, al youre wille,

After my myght, God wot, I shal fulfille,

So it to me be no confusioun."

"I nele," quod he, "have non excepcioun";

And out he caught a knyf, as rasour kene.

"Hyd this," quod he, "that it be nat ysene;

And whan thyn husbonde is to bedde go,

Whil that he slepeth, kit his throte atwo.

For in my dremes it is warned me

How that my nevew shal my bane be,

2660 But which I noot, wherfore I wol be siker.

If thow sey nay, we two shul have a biker,

As I have seyd, by hym that I have sworn!"

This Ipermystre hath nygh hire wit forlorn;

And, for to passen harmles of that place,

She graunteth hym; ther is non other grace.

And therwithal a costret taketh he,

And seyde, "Herof a draught, or two, or thre,

Yif hym to drynke, whan he goth to reste,

And he shal slepe as longe as evere thee leste,

2670 The narcotyks and opies ben so stronge.

And go thy wey, lest that him thynke longe."

Out cometh the bryd, and with ful sobre cheere,

As is of maydens ofte the manere,

To chaumbre is brought with revel and with song.

And shortly, lest this tale be to long,

This Lyno and she ben brought to bedde,

And every wight out at the dore hym spedde.

The nyght is wasted, and he fyl aslepe.

Ful tenderly begynneth she to wepe;

2680 She rist hire up, and dredfully she quaketh,

As doth the braunche that Zepherus shaketh,

And hust were alle in Argon that cite.

As cold as any frost now waxeth she;

For pite by the herte hire streyneth so,

And drede of deth doth hire so moche wo,

That thryes doun she fyl in swich a were.

She rist yit up, and stakereth her and there,

And on hire hondes faste loketh she.

"Allas! and shal myne hondes blody be?

2690 I am a mayde, and, as by my nature,

And bi my semblaunt and by my vesture,

Myne handes ben nat shapen for a knyf,

As for to reve no man fro his lyf.

What devel have I with the knyf to do?

And shal I have my throte korve a-two?

Thanne shal I blede, allas, and me beshende!

And nedes-cost this thyng moste have an ende;

Or he or I mot nedes lese oure lyf.

Now certes," quod she, "syn I am his wif,

2700 And hath my feyth, yit is it bet for me

For to be ded in wifly honeste

Than ben a traytour lyvynge in my shame.

Be as be may, for ernest or for game,

He shal awake, and ryse, and gon his way,

Out at this goter, or that it be day" --

And wep ful tenderly upon his face,

And in hyre armes gan hym to enbrace,

And hym she roggeth and awaketh softe.

And at a wyndow lep he fro the lofte,

2710 Whan she hath warned hym, and don hym bote.

This Lyno swift was, and lyght of fote,

And from his wif he ran a ful good pas.

This sely woman is so weik -- Allas! --

And helples, so that or that she fer wente,

Hire crewel fader dide hire for to hente.

Allas, Lyno, whi art thow so unkynde?

Why ne haddest thow remembred in thy mynde

To taken hire, and lad hire forth with the?

For whan she saw that gon awey was he,

2720 And that she myghte nat so faste go,

Ne folwen hym, she sat hire doun ryght tho,

Til she was caught and fetered in prysoun.

This tale is seyd for this conclusioun --

THE SHORTER POEMS

AN ABC

Almighty and al merciable queene,

To whom that al this world fleeth for socour,

To have relees of sinne, of sorwe, and teene,

Glorious virgine, of alle floures flour,

To thee I flee, confounded in errour.

Help and releeve, thou mighti debonayre,

Have mercy on my perilous langour.

Venquisshed me hath my cruel adversaire.

Bountee so fix hath in thin herte his tente

10 That wel I wot thou wolt my socour bee;

Thou canst not warne him that with good entente

Axeth thin helpe, thin herte is ay so free.

Thou art largesse of pleyn felicitee,

Haven of refut, of quiete, and of reste.

Loo, how that theeves sevene chasen mee.

Help, lady bright, er that my ship tobreste.

Comfort is noon but in yow, ladi deere;

For loo, my sinne and my confusioun,

Which oughten not in thi presence appeere,

20 Han take on me a greevous accioun

Of verrey right and desperacioun;

And as bi right thei mighten wel susteene

That I were wurthi my dampnacioun,

Nere merci of you, blisful hevene queene.

Dowte is ther noon, thou queen of misericorde,

That thou n' art cause of grace and merci heere;

God vouched sauf thurgh thee with us to accorde.

For certes, Crystes blisful mooder deere,

Were now the bowe bent in swich maneere

30 As it was first of justice and of ire,

The rightful God nolde of no mercy heere;

But thurgh thee han we grace as we desire.

Evere hath myn hope of refut been in thee,

For heer-biforn ful ofte in many a wyse

Hast thou to misericorde receyved me.

But merci, ladi, at the grete assyse

Whan we shule come bifore the hye justyse.

So litel fruit shal thanne in me be founde

That, but thou er that day correcte [vice],

40 Of verrey right my werk wol me confounde.

Fleeinge, I flee for socour to thi tente

Me for to hide from tempeste ful of dreede,

Biseeching yow that ye you not absente

Thouh I be wikke. O, help yit at this neede!

Al have I ben a beste in wil and deede,

Yit, ladi, thou me cloth. with thi grace.

Thin enemy and myn -- ladi, tak heede --

Unto my deth in poynt is me to chace!

Glorious mayde and mooder, which that nevere

50 Were bitter, neither in erthe nor in see,

But ful of swetnesse and of merci evere,

Help that my Fader be not wroth with me.

Spek thou, for I ne dar not him ysee,

So have I doon in erthe, allas the while,

That certes, but if thou my socour bee,

To stink eterne he wole my gost exile.

He vouched sauf, tel him, as was his wille,

Bicome a man, to have oure alliaunce,

And with his precious blood he wrot the bille

60 Upon the crois as general acquitaunce

To every penitent in ful creaunce;

And therfore, ladi bright, thou for us praye.

Thanne shalt thou bothe stinte al his grevaunce,

And make oure foo to failen of his praye.

I wot it wel, thou wolt ben oure socour,

Thou art so ful of bowntee, in certeyn,

For whan a soule falleth in errour

Thi pitee goth and haleth him ayein.

Thanne makest thou his pees with his sovereyn

70 And bringest him out of the crooked strete.

Whoso thee loveth, he shal not love in veyn,

That shal he fynde as he the lyf shal lete.

Kalenderes enlumyned ben thei

That in this world ben lighted with thi name,

And whoso goth to yow the righte wey,

Him thar not drede in soule to be lame.

Now, queen of comfort, sith thou art that same

To whom I seeche for my medicyne,

Lat not my foo no more my wounde entame;

80 Myn hele into thin hand al I resygne.

Ladi, thi sorwe kan I not portreye

Under the cros, ne his greevous penaunce;

But for youre bothes peynes I yow preye,

Lat not oure alder foo make his bobaunce

That he hath in his lystes of mischaunce

Convict that ye bothe have bought so deere.

As I seide erst, thou ground of oure substaunce,

Continue on us thi pitous eyen cleere!

Moises, that saugh the bush with flawmes rede

90 Brenninge, of which ther never a stikke brende,

Was signe of thin unwemmed maidenhede.

Thou art the bush on which ther gan descende

The Holi Gost, the which that Moyses wende

Had ben a-fyr, and this was in figure.

Now, ladi, from the fyr thou us defende

Which that in helle eternalli shal dure.

Noble princesse, that nevere haddest peere,

Certes if any comfort in us bee,

That cometh of thee, thou Cristes mooder deere.

100 We han noon oother melodye or glee

Us to rejoyse in oure adversitee,

Ne advocat noon that wole and dar so preye

For us, and that for litel hire as yee

That helpen for an Ave-Marie or tweye.

O verrey light of eyen that ben blynde,

O verrey lust of labour and distresse,

O tresoreere of bountee to mankynde,

Thee whom God ches to mooder for humblesse!

From his ancille he made the maistresse

110 Of hevene and erthe, oure bille up for to beede.

This world awaiteth evere on thi goodnesse

For thou ne failest nevere wight at neede.

Purpos I have sum time for to enquere

Wherfore and whi the Holi Gost thee soughte

Whan Gabrielles vois cam to thin ere.

He not to werre us swich a wonder wroughte,

But for to save us that he sithen boughte.

Thanne needeth us no wepen us for to save,

But oonly ther we dide not, as us oughte,

120 Doo penitence, and merci axe and have.

Queen of comfort, yit whan I me bithinke

That I agilt have bothe him and thee,

And that my soule is worthi for to sinke,

Allas, I caityf, whider may I flee?

Who shal unto thi Sone my mene bee?

Who, but thiself, that art of pitee welle?

Thou hast more reuthe on oure adversitee

Than in this world might any tonge telle.

Redresse me, mooder, and me chastise,

130 For certeynly my Faderes chastisinge,

That dar I nouht abiden in no wise,

So hidous is his rightful rekenynge.

Mooder, of whom oure merci gan to springe,

Beth ye my juge and eek my soules leche;

For evere in you is pitee haboundinge

To ech that wole of pitee you biseeche.

Soth is that God ne granteth no pitee

Withoute thee; for God of his goodnesse

Foryiveth noon, but it like unto thee.

140 He hath thee maked vicaire and maistresse

Of al this world, and eek governouresse

Of hevene, and he represseth his justise

After thi wil; and therfore in witnesse

He hath thee corowned in so rial wise.

Temple devout, ther God hath his woninge,

Fro which these misbileeved deprived been,

To you my soule penitent I bringe.

Receyve me -- I can no ferther fleen.

With thornes venymous, O hevene queen,

150 For which the eerthe acursed was ful yore,

I am so wounded, as ye may wel seen,

That I am lost almost, it smert so sore.

Virgine, that art so noble of apparaile,

And ledest us into the hye tour

Of Paradys, thou me wisse and counsaile

How I may have thi grace and thi socour,

All have I ben in filthe and in errour.

Ladi, unto that court thou me ajourne

That cleped is thi bench, O freshe flour,

160 Ther as that merci evere shal sojourne.

Xristus, thi sone, that in this world alighte

Upon the cros to suffre his passioun,

And eek that Longius his herte pighte

And made his herte blood to renne adoun,

And al was this for my salvacioun;

And I to him am fals and eek unkynde,

And yit he wole not my dampnacioun --

This thanke I yow, socour of al mankynde!

Ysaac was figure of his deth, certeyn,

170 That so fer forth his fader wolde obeye

That him ne roughte nothing to be slayn;

Right soo thi Sone list as a lamb to deye.

Now, ladi ful of merci, I yow preye,

Sith he his merci mesured so large,

Be ye not skant, for alle we singe and seye

That ye ben from vengeaunce ay oure targe.

Zacharie yow clepeth the open welle

To wasshe sinful soule out of his gilt.

Therfore this lessoun oughte I wel to telle,

180 That, nere thi tender herte, we were spilt.

Now, ladi bryghte, sith thou canst and wilt

Ben to the seed of Adam merciable,

Bring us to that palais that is bilt

To penitentes that ben to merci able. Amen.

THE COMPLAINT UNTO PITY

Pite, that I have sought so yore agoo

With herte soore and ful of besy peyne,

That in this world was never wight so woo

Withoute deth -- and yf I shal not feyne,

My purpos was to Pite to compleyne

Upon the crueltee and tirannye

Of Love, that for my trouthe doth me dye.

And when that I, be lengthe of certeyne yeres,

Had evere in oon a tyme sought to speke,

10 To Pitee ran I al bespreynt with teres

To prayen hir on Cruelte me awreke.

But er I myghte with any word outbreke

Or tellen any of my peynes smerte,

I fond hir ded, and buried in an herte.

Adoun I fel when that I saugh the herse,

Ded as a ston while that the swogh me laste;

But up I roos with colour ful dyverse

And pitously on hir myn eyen I caste,

And ner the corps I gan to presen faste,

20 And for the soule I shop me for to preye.

I was but lorn, ther was no more to seye.

Thus am I slayn sith that Pite is ded.

Allas, that day, that ever hyt shulde falle.

What maner man dar now hold up his hed?

To whom shal any sorwful herte calle?

Now Cruelte hath cast to slee us alle,

In ydel hope, folk redeless of peyne,

Syth she is ded, to whom shul we compleyne?

But yet encreseth me this wonder newe,

30 That no wight woot that she is ded, but I --

So many men as in her tyme hir knewe --

And yet she dyed not so sodeynly,

For I have sought hir ever ful besely

Sith first I hadde wit or mannes mynde,

But she was ded er that I koude hir fynde.

Aboute hir herse there stoden lustely,

Withouten any woo as thoughte me,

Bounte parfyt, wel armed and richely,

And fresshe Beaute, Lust, and Jolyte,

40 Assured Maner, Youthe, and Honeste,

Wisdom, Estaat, Drede, and Governaunce,

Confedred both by bonde and alliaunce.

A compleynt had I, writen in myn hond,

For to have put to Pite as a bille;

But when I al this companye ther fond,

That rather wolden al my cause spille

Then do me help, I held my pleynte stille,

For to that folk, withouten any fayle,

Withoute Pitee ther may no bille availe.

50 Then leve I al these vertues, sauf Pite,

Kepynge the corps as ye have herd me seyn,

Confedered alle by bond of Cruelte

And ben assented when I shal be sleyn.

And I have put my complaynt up ageyn,

For to my foes my bille I dar not shewe,

Th' effect of which seith thus, in wordes fewe:

Humblest of herte, highest of reverence,

Benygne flour, coroune of vertues alle,

Sheweth unto youre rial excellence

60 Youre servaunt, yf I durste me so calle,

Hys mortal harm in which he is yfalle,

And noght al oonly for his evel fare,

But for your renoun, as he shal declare.

Hit stondeth thus: your contraire, Crueltee,

Allyed is ayenst your regalye

Under colour of womanly Beaute --

For men shulde not, lo, knowe hir tirannye --

With Bounte, Gentilesse, and Curtesye,

And hath depryved yow now of your place

70 That hyghte "Beaute apertenant to Grace."

For kyndely by youre herytage ryght

Ye ben annexed ever unto Bounte;

And verrayly ye oughte do youre myght

To helpe Trouthe in his adversyte.

Ye be also the corowne of Beaute,

And certes yf ye wanten in these tweyne,

The world is lore; ther is no more to seyne.

Eke what availeth Maner and Gentilesse

Withoute yow, benygne creature?

80 Shal Cruelte be your governeresse?

Allas, what herte may hyt longe endure?

Wherfore, but ye the rather take cure

To breke that perilouse alliaunce,

Ye sleen hem that ben in your obeisaunce.

And further over yf ye suffre this,

Youre renoun ys fordoo than in a throwe;

Ther shal no man wite well what Pite is.

Allas, that your renoun is falle so lowe!

Ye be than fro youre heritage ythrowe

90 By Cruelte that occupieth youre place,

And we despeyred that seken to your grace.

Have mercy on me, thow Herenus quene,

That yow have sought so tendirly and yore;

Let som strem of youre lyght on me be sene

That love and drede yow ever lenger the more;

For sothly for to seyne I bere the soore,

And though I be not konnynge for to pleyne,

For Goddis love have mercy on my peyne.

My peyne is this, that what so I desire

100 That have I not, ne nothing lyk therto;

And ever setteth Desir myn hert on fire.

Eke on that other syde where so I goo,

What maner thing that may encrese my woo,

That have I redy, unsoght, everywhere;

Me lakketh but my deth and than my bere.

What nedeth to shewe parcel of my peyne?

Syth every woo that herte may bethynke

I suffre and yet I dar not to yow pleyne;

For wel I wot although I wake or wynke,

110 Ye rekke not whether I flete or synke.

But natheles yet my trouthe I shal sustene

Unto my deth, and that shal wel be sene.

This is to seyne I wol be youres evere,

Though ye me slee by Crueltee your foo,

Algate my spirit shal never dissevere

Fro youre servise for any peyne or woo.

Sith ye be ded -- allas that hyt is soo --

Thus for your deth I may wel wepe and pleyne

With herte sore and ful of besy peyne.

A COMPLAINT TO HIS LADY

The longe nightes, whan every creature

Shulde have hir rest in somwhat as by kynde,

Or elles ne may hir lif nat longe endure,

Hit falleth most into my woful mynde

How I so fer have broght myself behynde

That, sauf the deeth, ther may nothyng me lisse,

So desespaired I am from alle blisse.

This same thoght me lasteth til the morwe

And from the morwe forth til hit be eve;

10 Ther nedeth me no care for to borwe,

For bothe I have good leyser and good leve;

Ther is no wyght that wol me wo bereve

To wepe ynogh and wailen al my fille;

The sore spark of peyne now doth me spille.

This Love, that hath me set in such a place

That my desir [he] nevere wol fulfille,

For neither pitee, mercy, neither grace

Can I nat fynde, and yit my sorwful herte

For to be deed I can hit nought arace.

20 The more I love, the more she doth me smerte,

Thourgh which I see withoute remedye

That from the deeth I may no wyse asterte.

Now sothly what she hight I wol reherse:

Hir name is Bountee set in womanhede,

Sadnesse in youthe and Beautee prydelees

And Plesaunce under governaunce and drede;

Hir surname is eek Faire Rewthelees

The Wyse, yknit unto Good Aventure,

That, for I love hir, she sleeth me giltelees.

30 Hir love I best, and shal, whyl I may dure,

Bet than myself an hundred thousand deel,

Than al this worldes richesse or creature.

Now hath not Love me bestowed weel

To love ther I never shal have part?

Allas, right thus is turned me the wheel,

Thus am I slayn with Loves fyry dart!

I can but love hir best, my swete fo;

Love hath me taught no more of his art

But serve alwey and stinte for no wo.

40 In my trewe [and] careful herte ther is

So moche wo and [eek] so litel blis

That wo is me that ever I was bore;

For al that thyng which I desyre I mis

And al that ever I wolde not ywis,

That finde I redy to me evermore;

And of al this I not to whom me pleyne.

For she that mighte me out of this brynge

Ne reccheth nought whether I wepe or synge,

So litel rewthe hath she upon my peyne.

50 Allas! Whan slepyng-tyme is than I wake,

Whan I shulde daunce, for fere, lo, than I quake.

This hevy lif I lede, lo, for your sake

Thogh ye therof in no wyse hede take,

Myn hertes lady and hool my lyves quene.

For trewly durste I seye as that I fele,

Me semeth that your swete herte of stele

Is whetted now ageynes me to kene.

My dere herte and best beloved fo,

Why lyketh yow to do me al this wo?

60 What have I doon that greveth yow or sayd,

But for I serve and love yow and no mo?

And while I lyve I wol ever do so,

And therfor, swete, ne beth nat yvel apayd.

For so good and so fair as ye be

Hit were right gret wonder but ye hadde

Of alle servantes, bothe of goode and badde;

And leest worthy of alle hem, I am he.

But nevertheles, my righte lady swete,

Thogh that I be unconnyng and unmete

70 To serve, as I coude best, ay your hynesse,

Yit is ther noon fayner, that wolde I hete,

Than I, to do yow ese, or elles bete

What so I wiste that were to youre hevynesse;

And hadde I myght as good as I have wille,

Than shulde ye fele wher it were so or noon;

For in this world livyng than is ther noon

That fayner wolde your hertes wil fulfille.

For bothe I love and eek drede yow so sore,

And algates moot, and have doon yow, ful yore,

80 That bettre loved is noon ne never shal;

And yit I wolde beseche yow of no more,

But leveth wel and be not wrooth therfore,

And lat me serve yow forth; lo, this is al.

For I am not so hardy ne so wood,

For to desire that ye shulde love me,

For wel I wot -- allas -- that wil nat be;

I am so litel worthy and ye so good.

For ye be oon the worthiest on-lyve

And I the most unlykly for to thryve,

90 Yit for al this, witeth ye right wele

That ye ne shul me from your servyce dryve

That I ne wil ay, with alle my wittes fyve,

Serve yow trewly, what wo so that I fele.

For I am set on yow in such manere

That, thogh ye never wil upon me rewe,

I moste yow love and been ever as trewe

As any man can, or may, on-lyve [here].

But the more that I love yow, goodly free,

The lasse fynde I that ye loven me;

100 Allas, whan shal that harde wit amende?

Wher is now al your wommanly pitee,

Your gentilesse and your debonairtee?

Wil ye nothyng therof upon me spende?

And so hool, swete, as I am youres al,

And so gret wil as I have yow to serve,

Now certes, and ye lete me thus sterve,

Yit have ye wonne theron but a smal.

For at my knowyng I do nought why,

And this I wol beseche yow hertely,

110 That ther ever ye fynde, whyles ye lyve,

A trewer servant to yow than am I,

Leveth thanne and sleeth me hardely,

And I my deeth to yow wol al foryive.

And if ye fynde no trewer verrayly,

Wil ye suffre than that I thus spille

And for no maner gilt but my good wille?

As good were thanne untrewe as trewe to be.

But I, my lyf and deeth, to yow obeye

And with right buxom herte hooly I preye

120 As is your moste plesure, so doth by me;

Wel lever is me liken yow and deye

Than for to anythyng or thynke or seye

That yow myghte offende in any tyme.

And therfor, swete, rewe on my peynes smerte,

And of your grace graunteth me som drope,

For elles may me laste no blis ne hope,

Ne dwelle within my trouble careful herte.

THE COMPLAINT OF MARS

Gladeth, ye foules, of the morowe gray;

Lo, Venus, rysen among yon rowes rede.

And floures fressh, honoureth ye this day,

For when the sunne uprist then wol ye sprede.

But ye lovers, that lye in any drede,

Fleeth, lest wikked tonges yow espye.

Lo, yond the sunne, the candel of jelosye!

Wyth teres blewe and with a wounded herte

Taketh your leve, and with Seint John to borowe

10 Apeseth sumwhat of your sorowes smerte.

Tyme cometh eft that cese shal your sorowe;

The glade nyght ys worth an hevy morowe --

Seynt Valentyne, a foul thus herde I synge

Upon thy day er sonne gan up-sprynge.

Yet sang this foul -- I rede yow al awake,

And ye that han not chosen in humble wyse,

Without repentynge cheseth yow your make,

And ye that han ful chosen as I devise,

Yet at the leste renoveleth your servyse.

20 Confermeth hyt perpetuely to dure,

And paciently taketh your aventure.

And for the worship of this highe feste,

Yet wol I, in my briddes wise, synge

The sentence of the compleynt, at the leste,

That woful Mars made atte departyng

Fro fresshe Venus in a morwenynge,

Whan Phebus with his firy torches rede

Ransaked every lover in hys drede.

Whilom the thridde hevenes lord above,

30 As wel by hevenysh revolucioun

As by desert, hath wonne Venus his love,

And she hath take him in subjeccioun,

And as a maistresse taught him his lessoun,

Commaundynge him that nevere, in her servise,

He nere so bold no lover to dispise.

For she forbad him jelosye at al,

And cruelte, and bost, and tyrannye.

She made him at her lust so humble and tal,

That when her deyned to cast on hym her ye,

40 He tok in pacience to lyve or dye.

And thus she brydeleth him in her manere,

With nothing but with scourging of her chere.

Who regneth now in blysse but Venus,

That hath thys worthy knyght in governaunce?

Who syngeth now but Mars, that serveth thus

The faire Venus, causer of plesaunce?

He bynt him to perpetuall obeisaunce,

And she bynt her to loven him for evere,

But so be that his trespas hyt desevere.

50 Thus be they knyt and regnen as in hevene

Be lokyng moost; til hyt fil on a tyde

That by her bothe assent was set a stevene

That Mars shal entre, as fast as he may glyde,

Into hir nexte paleys, and ther abyde,

Walkynge hys cours, til she had him atake,

And he preide her to haste her for his sake.

Then seyde he thus, "Myn hertes lady swete,

Ye knowe wel my myschef in that place,

For sikerly, til that I with yow mete,

60 My lyf stant ther in aventure and grace;

But when I se the beaute of your face,

Ther ys no drede of deth may do me smerte,

For al your lust is ese to myn herte."

She hath so gret compassioun of her knyght,

That dwelleth in solitude til she come --

For hyt stod so that thilke tyme no wight

Counseyled hym ther, ne seyde to hym welcome --

That nygh her wit for wo was overcome;

Wherfore she sped her as faste in her weye

70 Almost in oo day as he dyde in tweye.

The grete joye that was betwix hem two

When they be mette ther may no tunge telle.

Ther is no more but unto bed thei go,

And thus in joy and blysse I lete hem duelle.

This worthi Mars, that is of knyghthod welle,

The flour of feyrnesse lappeth in his armes,

And Venus kysseth Mars, the god of armes.

Sojourned hath this Mars of which I rede

In chambre amyd the paleys prively

80 A certeyn tyme, til him fel a drede

Throgh Phebus, that was comen hastely

Within the paleys yates sturdely,

With torche in honde, of which the stremes bryghte

On Venus chambre knokkeden ful lyghte.

The chambre ther as ley this fresshe quene

Depeynted was with white boles grete,

And by the lyght she knew, that shon so shene,

That Phebus cam to brenne hem with his hete.

This sely Venus nygh dreynt in teres wete

90 Enbraceth Mars and seyde, "Alas, I dye!

The torche is come that al this world wol wrie."

Up sterte Mars; hym liste not to slepe

When he his lady herde so compleyne,

But, for his nature was not for to wepe,

In stede of teres, from his eyen tweyne

The firi sparkes brosten out for peyne,

And hente his hauberk that ley hym besyde.

Fle wolde he not, ne myghte himselven hide.

He throweth on his helm of huge wyghte,

100 And girt him with his swerd, and in his hond

His myghty spere, as he was wont to fyghte,

He shaketh so that almost hit towond.

Ful hevy was he to walken over lond;

He may not holde with Venus companye

But bad her fleen lest Phebus her espye.

O woful Mars -- alas -- what maist thou seyn,

That in the paleys of thy disturbaunce

Art left byhynde in peril to be sleyn?

And yet therto ys double thy penaunce,

110 For she that hath thyn herte in governaunce

Is passed half the stremes of thin yen;

That thou nere swift, wel maist thou wepe and crien.

Now fleeth Venus unto Cilenios tour

With voide cours for fere of Phebus lyght --

Alas -- and ther ne hath she no socour,

For she ne found ne saugh no maner wyght,

And eke as ther she hath but litil myght,

Wherfor, herselven for to hyde and save,

Within the gate she fledde into a cave.

120 Derk was this cave and smokyng as the helle;

Not but two pas within the yate hit stod.

A naturel day in derk I lete her duelle.

Now wol I speke of Mars, furious and wod.

For sorow he wolde have sen his herte blod;

Sith that he myghte don her no companye,

He ne roghte not a myte for to dye.

So feble he wex for hete and for his wo

That nygh he swelte, he myghte unnethe endure;

He passeth but o steyre in dayes two.

130 But nathelesse, for al his hevy armure,

He foloweth her that is his lyves cure,

For whos departyng he tok gretter ire

Then for al his brennyng in the fire.

After he walketh softely a paas,

Compleynyng, that hyt pite was to here,

He seyde, "O lady bryght, Venus, alas,

That evere so wyd a compas ys my spere!

Alas, when shal I mete yow, herte dere?

This twelfte daye of April I endure

140 Throgh jelous Phebus this mysaventure."

Now God helpe sely Venus allone.

But as God wolde, hyt happed for to be

That, while that Venus weping made her mone,

Cilenius, rydinge in his chevache,

Fro Venus valaunse myghte his paleys se,

And Venus he salueth and doth chere,

And her receyveth as his frend ful dere.

Mars dwelleth forth in his adversyte,

Compleynyng ever on her departynge,

150 And what his compleynt was, remembreth me;

And therfore, in this lusty morwenynge

As I best can, I wol hit seyn and synge;

And after that I wol my leve take,

And God yeve every wyght joy of his make!

The ordre of compleynt requireth skylfully

That yf a wight shal pleyne pitously,

Ther mot be cause wherfore that men pleyne;

Or men may deme he pleyneth folily

And causeles; alas, that am not I.

160 Wherfore the ground and cause of al my peyne,

So as my troubled wit may hit atteyne,

I wol reherse; not for to have redresse,

But to declare my ground of hevynesse.

The firste tyme, alas, that I was wroght

And for certeyn effectes hider broght

Be him that lordeth ech intelligence,

I yaf my trewe servise and my thoght

For evermore -- how dere I have hit boght --

To her that is of so gret excellence

170 That what wight that first sheweth his presence,

When she is wroth and taketh of hym no cure,

He may not longe in joye of love endure.

This is no feyned mater that I telle;

My lady is the verrey sours and welle

Of beaute, lust, fredom, and gentilnesse,

Of riche aray -- how dere men hit selle! --

Of al disport in which men frendly duelle,

Of love and pley, and of benigne humblesse,

Of soun of instrumentes of al swetnesse;

180 And therto so wel fortuned and thewed

That thorogh the world her goodnesse is yshewed.

What wonder ys it then, thogh I besette

My servise on such on that may me knette

To wele or wo sith hit lyth in her myght?

Therfore my herte forever I to her hette,

Ne truly, for my deth, I shal not lette

To ben her truest servaunt and her knyght.

I flater noght, that may wete every wyght;

For this day in her servise shal I dye.

190 But grace be, I se her never wyth ye.

To whom shal I than pleyne of my distresse?

Who may me helpe? Who may my harm redresse?

Shal I compleyne unto my lady fre?

Nay, certes, for she hath such hevynesse,

For fere and eke for wo that, as I gesse,

In lytil tyme hit wol her bane be.

But were she sauf, hit were no fors of me.

Alas, that ever lovers mote endure

For love so many a perilous aventure!

200 For thogh so be that lovers be as trewe

As any metal that is forged newe,

In many a cas hem tydeth ofte sorowe.

Somtyme her lady wil not on hem rewe;

Somtyme yf that jelosie hyt knewe,

They myghten lyghtly leye her hed to borowe;

Somtyme envyous folk with tunges horowe

Depraven hem; alas, whom may they plese?

But he be fals, no lover hath non ese.

But what availeth such a long sermoun

210 Of aventures of love up and doun?

I wol returne and speken of my peyne.

The poynt is this of my distruccioun:

My righte lady, my savacyoun,

Is in affray, and not to whom to pleyne.

O herte swete, O lady sovereyne!

For your disese wel oughte I swowne and swelte,

Though I non other harm ne drede felte.

To what fyn made the God, that sit so hye,

Benethen him love other companye

220 And streyneth folk to love, malgre her hed?

And then her joy, for oght I can espye,

Ne lasteth not the twynkelyng of an ye,

And somme han never joy til they be ded.

What meneth this? What is this mystihed?

Wherto constreyneth he his folk so faste

Thing to desyre, but hit shulde laste?

And thogh he made a lover love a thing

And maketh hit seme stedfast and during,

Yet putteth he in hyt such mysaventure

230 That reste nys ther non in his yeving.

And that is wonder, that so juste a kyng

Doth such hardnesse to his creature.

Thus, whether love breke or elles dure,

Algates he that hath with love to done

Hath ofter wo then changed ys the mone.

Hit semeth he hath to lovers enmyte,

And lyk a fissher, as men alday may se,

Baiteth hys angle-hok with som plesaunce

Til many a fissh ys wod til that he be

240 Sesed therwith; and then at erst hath he

Al his desir, and therwith al myschaunce;

And thogh the lyne breke, he hath penaunce;

For with the hok he wounded is so sore

That he his wages hath for evermore.

The broche of Thebes was of such a kynde,

So ful of rubies and of stones of Ynde

That every wight, that sette on hit an ye,

He wende anon to worthe out of his mynde;

So sore the beaute wolde his herte bynde.

250 Til he hit had, him thoghte he moste dye;

And whan that hit was his, then shulde he drye

Such woo for drede, ay while that he hit hadde,

That wel nygh for the fere he shulde madde.

And whan hit was fro his possessioun,

Then had he double wo and passioun

For he so feir a tresor had forgo;

But yet this broche as in conclusioun

Was not the cause of his confusioun,

But he that wroghte hit enfortuned hit so

260 That every wight that had hit shulde have wo;

And therfore in the worcher was the vice,

And in the covetour that was so nyce.

So fareth hyt by lovers and by me;

For thogh my lady have so gret beaute

That I was mad til I had gete her grace,

She was not cause of myn adversite,

But he that wroghte her, also mot I the,

That putte such a beaute in her face,

That made me coveyten and purchace

270 Myn oune deth -- him wite I that I dye,

And myn unwit that ever I clamb so hye.

But to yow, hardy knyghtes of renoun,

Syn that ye be of my devisioun,

Al be I not worthy to so gret a name,

Yet, seyn these clerkes, I am your patroun;

Therfore ye oghte have som compassioun

Of my disese, and take hit not a-game.

The proudest of yow may be mad ful tame;

Wherfore I prey yow of your gentilesse

280 That ye compleyne for myn hevynesse.

And ye, my ladyes, that ben true and stable,

Be wey of kynde, ye oughten to be able

To have pite of folk that be in peyne.

Now have ye cause to clothe yow in sable,

Sith that youre emperise, the honurable,

Is desolat; wel oghte ye to pleyne.

Now shulde your holy teres falle and reyne.

Alas, your honour and your emperise,

Negh ded for drede ne can her not chevise!

290 Compleyneth eke, ye lovers, al in-fere,

For her that with unfeyned humble chere

Was evere redy to do yow socour;

Compleyneth her that evere hath had yow dere;

Compleyneth Beaute, Fredom, and Manere;

Compleyneth her that endeth your labour;

Compleyneth thilke ensample of al honour,

That never dide but al gentilesse;

Kytheth therfore on her sum kyndenesse.

THE COMPLAINT OF VENUS

Ther nys so high comfort to my pleasaunce,

When that I am in any hevynesse,

As for to have leyser of remembraunce

Upon the manhod and the worthynesse,

Upon the trouthe and on the stidfastnesse

Of him whos I am al, while I may dure.

Ther oghte blame me no creature,

For every wight preiseth his gentilesse.

In him is bounte, wysdom, governaunce,

10 Wel more then any mannes wit can gesse,

For grace hath wold so ferforth hym avaunce

That of knyghthod he is parfit richesse.

Honour honoureth him for his noblesse;

Therto so wel hath formed him Nature

That I am his for ever, I him assure,

For every wight preyseth his gentilesse.

And notwithstondyng al his suffisaunce,

His gentil herte is of so gret humblesse

To me in word, in werk, in contenaunce,

20 And me to serve is al his besynesse,

That I am set in verrey sikernesse.

Thus oghte I blesse wel myn aventure

Sith that him list me serven and honoure,

For every wight preiseth his gentilesse.

Now certis, Love, hit is right covenable

That men ful dere bye thy nobil thing,

As wake abedde and fasten at the table,

Wepinge to laughe and singe in compleynyng,

And doun to caste visage and lokyng,

30 Often to chaunge hewe and contenaunce,

Pleyne in slepyng and dremen at the daunce,

Al the revers of any glad felyng.

Jelosie be hanged by a cable!

She wolde al knowe thurgh her espying;

Ther doth no wyght nothing so resonable

That al nys harm in her ymagenyng.

Thus dere abought is Love in yevyng,

Which ofte he yiveth withouten ordynaunce,

As sorwe ynogh and litil of plesaunce,

40 Al the revers of any glad felyng.

A lytel tyme his yift ys agreable,

But ful encomberous is the usyng,

For subtil Jelosie, the deceyvable,

Ful often tyme causeth desturbyng.

Thus be we ever in drede and sufferyng;

In nouncerteyn we languisshe in penaunce,

And han wele ofte many an hard mischaunce,

Al the revers of any glad felyng.

But certes, Love, I sey not in such wise

50 That for t' escape out of youre las I mente,

For I so longe have ben in your servise

That for to lete of wil I never assente;

No fors thogh Jelosye me turmente.

Sufficeth me to sen hym when I may,

And therfore certes, to myn endyng day

To love hym best ne shal I never repente.

And certis, Love, when I me wel avise

On any estat that man may represente,

Then have ye made me thurgh your fraunchise

60 Chese the best that ever on erthe wente.

Now love wel, herte, and lok thou never stente,

And let the jelous putte it in assay

That for no peyne wol I not sey nay;

To love him best ne shal I never repente.

Herte, to the hit oughte ynogh suffise

That Love so high a grace to the sente

To chese the worthieste in alle wise

And most agreable unto myn entente.

Seche no ferther, neythir wey ne wente,

70 Sith I have suffisaunce unto my pay.

Thus wol I ende this compleynt or this lay;

To love hym best ne shal I never repente.

Princes, receyveth this compleynt in gre,

Unto your excelent benignite

Direct after my litel suffisaunce.

For elde, that in my spirit dulleth me,

Hath of endyting al the subtilte

Wel nygh bereft out of my remembraunce,

And eke to me it ys a gret penaunce,

80 Syth rym in Englissh hath such skarsete,

To folowe word by word the curiosite

Of Graunson, flour of hem that make in Fraunce.

TO ROSEMOUNDE

Madame, ye ben of al beaute shryne

As fer as cercled is the mapamounde,

For as the cristal glorious ye shyne,

And lyke ruby ben your chekes rounde.

Therwith ye ben so mery and so jocounde

That at a revel whan that I see you daunce,

It is an oynement unto my wounde,

Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce.

For thogh I wepe of teres ful a tyne,

10 Yet may that wo myn herte nat confounde;

Your semy voys that ye so smal out twyne

Maketh my thoght in joy and blis habounde.

So curtaysly I go with love bounde

That to myself I sey in my penaunce,

"Suffyseth me to love you, Rosemounde,

Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce."

Nas never pyk walwed in galauntyne

As I in love am walwed and ywounde,

For which ful ofte I of myself devyne

20 That I am trewe Tristam the secounde.

My love may not refreyde nor affounde,

I brenne ay in an amorous plesaunce.

Do what you lyst, I wyl your thral be founde,

Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce.

WOMANLY NOBLESSE

So hath myn herte caught in remembraunce

Your beaute hoole and stidefast governaunce,

Your vertues al and yowre hie noblesse,

That you to serve is set al my plesaunce.

So wel me liketh your womanly contenaunce,

Your fresshe fetures and your comlynesse,

That whiles I live myn hert to his maystresse

You hath ful chose in trewe perseveraunce

Never to chaunge, for no maner distresse.

10 And sith I shal do [you] this observaunce,

Al my lif withouten displesaunce

You for to serve with al my besynesse,

And have me somwhat in your souvenaunce.

My woful herte suffreth greet duresse,

And [loke] how humbly with al symplesse

My wil I conforme to your ordynaunce,

As you best list, my peynes for to redresse.

Considryng eke how I hange in balaunce

In your service, such, lo, is my chaunce,

20 Abidyng grace, whan that your gentilnesse

Of my grete wo liste do alleggeaunce,

And with your pite me som wise avaunce

In ful rebatyng of myn hevynesse;

And thynketh by resoun that wommanly noblesse

Shuld nat desire for to do the outrance

Ther as she fyndeth non unbuxumnesse.

Auctour of norture, lady of plesaunce,

Soveraigne of beautee, floure of wommanhede,

Take ye non hede unto myn ignoraunce,

30 But this receyveth of your goodlihede,

Thynkyng that I have caught in remembraunce,

Your beaute hole, your stidefast governaunce.

CHAUCERS WORDES UNTO ADAM, HIS OWNE SCRIVEYN

Adam scriveyn, if ever it thee bifalle

Boece or Troylus for to wryten newe,

Under thy long lokkes thou most have the scalle,

But after my makyng thow wryte more trewe;

So ofte adaye I mot thy werk renewe,

It to correcte and eke to rubbe and scrape,

And al is thorugh thy negligence and rape.

THE FORMER AGE

A blisful lyf, a paisible and a swete,

Ledden the peples in the former age.

They helde hem payed of the fruites that they ete,

Which that the feldes yave hem by usage;

They ne were nat forpampred with outrage.

Unknowen was the quern and ek the melle;

They eten mast, hawes, and swich pounage,

And dronken water of the colde welle.

Yit nas the ground nat wounded with the plough,

10 But corn up-sprong, unsowe of mannes hond,

The which they gnodded and eete nat half ynough.

No man yit knew the forwes of his lond,

No man the fyr out of the flint yit fond,

Unkorven and ungrobbed lay the vyne;

No man yit in the morter spyces grond

To clarre ne to sause of galantyne.

No mader, welde, or wood no litestere

Ne knew; the flees was of his former hewe;

No flesh ne wiste offence of egge or spere.

20 No coyn ne knew man which was fals or trewe,

No ship yit karf the wawes grene and blewe,

No marchaunt yit ne fette outlandish ware.

No trompes for the werres folk ne knewe,

Ne toures heye and walles rounde or square.

What sholde it han avayled to werreye?

Ther lay no profit, ther was no richesse;

But cursed was the tyme, I dare wel seye,

That men first dide hir swety bysinesse

To grobbe up metal, lurkinge in derknesse,

30 And in the riveres first gemmes soghte.

Allas, than sprong up al the cursednesse

Of coveytyse, that first our sorwe broghte.

Thise tyraunts putte hem gladly nat in pres

No wildnesse ne no busshes for to winne,

Ther poverte is, as seith Diogenes,

Ther as vitaile is ek so skars and thinne

That noght but mast or apples is therinne;

But, ther as bagges ben and fat vitaile,

Ther wol they gon, and spare for no sinne

40 With al hir ost the cite for to asayle.

Yit was no paleis-chaumbres ne non halles;

In caves and wodes softe and swete

Slepten this blissed folk withoute walles

On gras or leves in parfit quiete.

Ne doun of fetheres ne no bleched shete

Was kid to hem, but in seurtee they slepte.

Hir hertes were al oon withoute galles;

Everich of hem his feith to other kepte.

Unforged was the hauberk and the plate;

50 The lambish peple, voyd of alle vyce,

Hadden no fantasye to debate,

But ech of hem wolde other wel cheryce.

No pryde, non envye, non avaryce,

No lord, no taylage by no tyrannye;

Humblesse and pees, good feith the emperice.

Yit was not Jupiter the likerous,

That first was fader of delicacye,

Come in this world; ne Nembrot, desirous

To regne, had nat maad his toures hye.

60 Allas, allas, now may men wepe and crye!

For in oure dayes nis but covetyse,

Doublenesse, and tresoun, and envye,

Poyson, manslawhtre, and mordre in sondry wyse.

FORTUNE

This wrecched worldes transmutacioun,

As wele or wo, now povre and now honour,

Withouten ordre or wys discrecioun

Governed is by Fortunes errour.

But natheles, the lak of hir favour

Ne may nat don me singen though I dye,

Jay tout perdu mon temps et mon labour;

For fynally, Fortune, I thee defye.

Yit is me left the light of my resoun

10 To knowen frend fro fo in thy mirour.

So muchel hath yit thy whirling up and doun

Ytaught me for to knowen in an hour.

But trewely, no force of thy reddour

To him that over himself hath the maystrye.

My suffisaunce shal be my socour,

For fynally Fortune, I thee defye.

O Socrates, thou stidfast champioun,

She never mighte be thy tormentour;

Thou never dreddest hir oppressioun,

20 Ne in hir chere founde thou no savour.

Thou knewe wel the deceit of hir colour,

And that hir moste worshipe is to lye.

I knowe hir eek a fals dissimulour,

For fynally, Fortune, I thee defye!

No man is wrecched but himself it wene,

And he that hath himself hath suffisaunce.

Why seystow thanne I am to thee so kene,

That hast thyself out of my governaunce?

Sey thus: "Graunt mercy of thyn haboundaunce

30 That thou hast lent or this." Why wolt thou stryve?

What wostow yit how I thee wol avaunce?

And eek thou hast thy beste frend alyve.

I have thee taught divisioun bitwene

Frend of effect and frend of countenaunce;

Thee nedeth nat the galle of noon hyene,

That cureth eyen derked for penaunce;

Now seestow cleer that were in ignoraunce.

Yit halt thyn ancre and yit thou mayst arryve

Ther bountee berth the keye of my substaunce,

40 And eek thou hast thy beste frend alyve.

How many have I refused to sustene

Sin I thee fostred have in thy plesaunce.

Woltow than make a statut on thy quene

That I shal been ay at thyn ordinaunce?

Thou born art in my regne of variaunce,

Aboute the wheel with other most thou dryve.

My lore is bet than wikke is thy grevaunce,

And eek thou hast thy beste frend alyve.

Thy lore I dampne; it is adversitee.

50 My frend maystow nat reven, blind goddesse;

That I thy frendes knowe, I thanke it thee.

Tak hem agayn, lat hem go lye on presse.

The negardye in keping hir richesse

Prenostik is thou wolt hir tour assayle;

Wikke appetyt comth ay before syknesse.

In general, this reule may nat fayle.

Thou pinchest at my mutabilitee

For I thee lente a drope of my richesse,

And now me lyketh to withdrawe me.

60 Why sholdestow my realtee oppresse?

The see may ebbe and flowen more or lesse;

The welkne hath might to shyne, reyne, or hayle;

Right so mot I kythen my brotelnesse.

In general, this reule may nat fayle.

Lo, th' execucion of the majestee

That al purveyeth of his rightwysnesse,

That same thing "Fortune" clepen ye,

Ye blinde bestes ful of lewednesse.

The hevene hath propretee of sikernesse,

70 This world hath ever resteles travayle;

Thy laste day is ende of myn intresse.

In general, this reule may nat fayle.

Princes, I prey you of your gentilesse

Lat nat this man on me thus crye and pleyne,

And I shal quyte you your bisinesse

At my requeste, as three of you or tweyne,

And but you list releve him of his peyne,

Preyeth his beste frend of his noblesse

That to som beter estat he may atteyne.

TRUTH

Flee fro the prees and dwelle with sothfastnesse;

Suffyce unto thy thing, though it be smal,

For hord hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse,

Prees hath envye, and wele blent overal.

Savour no more than thee bihove shal,

Reule wel thyself that other folk canst rede,

And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede.

Tempest thee noght al croked to redresse

In trust of hir that turneth as a bal;

10 Gret reste stant in litel besinesse.

Be war therfore to sporne ayeyns an al,

Stryve not, as doth the crokke with the wal.

Daunte thyself, that dauntest otheres dede,

And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede.

That thee is sent, receyve in buxumnesse;

The wrastling for this world axeth a fal.

Her is non hoom, her nis but wildernesse:

Forth, pilgrim, forth! Forth, beste, out of thy stal!

Know thy contree, look up, thank God of al;

20 Hold the heye wey and lat thy gost thee lede,

And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede.

Therfore, thou Vache, leve thyn old wrecchednesse;

Unto the world leve now to be thral.

Crye him mercy, that of his hy goodnesse

Made thee of noght, and in especial

Draw unto him, and pray in general

For thee, and eek for other, hevenlich mede;

And trouthe thee shal delivere, it is no drede.

GENTILESSE

The firste stok, fader of gentilesse --

What man that desireth gentil for to be

Must folowe his trace, and alle his wittes dresse

Vertu to love and vyces for to flee.

For unto vertu longeth dignitee

And noght the revers, saufly dar I deme,

Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

This firste stok was ful of rightwisnesse,

Trewe of his word, sobre, pitous, and free,

10 Clene of his gost, and loved besinesse,

Ayeinst the vyce of slouthe, in honestee;

And, but his heir love vertu as dide he,

He is noght gentil, thogh he riche seme,

Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

Vyce may wel be heir to old richesse,

But ther may no man, as men may wel see,

Bequethe his heir his vertuous noblesse

(That is appropred unto no degree

But to the firste fader in magestee,

20 That maketh hem his heyres that him queme),

Al were he mytre, croune, or diademe.

LAK OF STEDFASTNESSE

Somtyme the world was so stedfast and stable

That mannes word was obligacioun,

And now it is so fals and deceivable

That word and deed, as in conclusioun,

Ben nothing lyk, for turned up-so-doun

Is al this world for mede and wilfulnesse,

That al is lost for lak of stedfastnesse.

What maketh this world to be so variable

But lust that folk have in dissensioun?

10 For among us now a man is holde unable,

But if he can by som collusioun

Don his neighbour wrong or oppressioun.

What causeth this but wilful wrecchednesse,

That al is lost for lak of stedfastnesse?

Trouthe is put doun, resoun is holden fable,

Vertu hath now no dominacioun;

Pitee exyled, no man is merciable.

Through covetyse is blent discrecioun.

The world hath mad a permutacioun

20 Fro right to wrong, fro trouthe to fikelnesse,

That al is lost for lak of stedfastnesse.

O prince, desyre to be honourable,

Cherish thy folk and hate extorcioun.

Suffre nothing that may be reprevable

To thyn estat don in thy regioun.

Shew forth thy swerd of castigacioun,

Dred God, do law, love trouthe and worthinesse,

And wed thy folk agein to stedfastnesse.

LENVOY DE CHAUCER A SCOGAN

Tobroken been the statutz hye in hevene

That creat were eternally to dure,

Syth that I see the bryghte goddis sevene

Mowe wepe and wayle, and passioun endure,

As may in erthe a mortal creature.

Allas, fro whennes may thys thing procede,

Of which errour I deye almost for drede?

By word eterne whilom was it shape

That fro the fyfte sercle, in no manere,

10 Ne myght a drope of teeres doun escape.

But now so wepith Venus in hir spere

That with hir teeres she wol drenche us here.

Allas! Scogan, this is for thyn offence;

Thow causest this diluge of pestilence.

Hastow not seyd, in blaspheme of the goddis,

Thurgh pride, or thrugh thy grete rekelnesse,

Swich thing as in the lawe of love forbode is,

That, for thy lady sawgh nat thy distresse,

Therfore thow yave hir up at Michelmesse?

20 Allas! Scogan, of olde folk ne yonge

Was never erst Scogan blamed for his tonge.

Thow drowe in skorn Cupide eke to record

Of thilke rebel word that thow hast spoken,

For which he wol no lenger be thy lord.

And, Scogan, though his bowe be nat broken,

He wol nat with his arwes been ywroken

On the, ne me, ne noon of oure figure;

We shul of him have neyther hurt ne cure.

Now certes, frend, I dreed of thyn unhap,

30 Lest for thy gilt the wreche of Love procede

On alle hem that ben hoor and rounde of shap,

That ben so lykly folk in love to spede.

Than shal we for oure labour have no mede;

But wel I wot, thow wolt answere and saye,

"Lo, olde Grisel lyst to ryme and playe!"

Nay, Scogan, say not so, for I m' excuse --

God helpe me so! -- in no rym, dowteles,

Ne thynke I never of slep to wake my muse,

That rusteth in my shethe stille in pees.

40 While I was yong, I put hir forth in prees;

But al shal passe that men prose or ryme;

Take every man hys turn, as for his tyme.

Scogan, that knelest at the stremes hed

Of grace, of alle honour and worthynesse,

In th' ende of which strem I am dul as ded,

Forgete in solytarie wildernesse --

Yet, Scogan, thenke on Tullius kyndenesse;

Mynne thy frend, there it may fructyfye!

Far-wel, and loke thow never eft Love dyffye.

LENVOY DE CHAUCER A BUKTON

My maister Bukton, whan of Crist our kyng

Was axed what is trouthe or sothfastnesse,

He nat a word answerde to that axing,

As who saith, "No man is al trewe," I gesse.

And therfore, though I highte to expresse

The sorwe and wo that is in mariage,

I dar not writen of it no wikkednesse,

Lest I myself falle eft in swich dotage.

I wol nat seyn how that yt is the cheyne

10 Of Sathanas, on which he gnaweth evere,

But I dar seyn, were he out of his peyne,

As by his wille he wolde be bounde nevere.

But thilke doted fool that eft hath levere

Ycheyned be than out of prison crepe,

God lete him never fro his wo dissevere,

Ne no man him bewayle, though he wepe.

But yet, lest thow do worse, take a wyf;

Bet ys to wedde than brenne in worse wise.

But thow shal have sorwe on thy flessh, thy lyf,

20 And ben thy wives thral, as seyn these wise;

And yf that hooly writ may nat suffyse,

Experience shal the teche, so may happe,

That the were lever to be take in Frise

Than eft to falle of weddynge in the trappe.

This lytel writ, proverbes, or figure

I sende yow; take kepe of yt, I rede;

Unwys is he that kan no wele endure.

If thow be siker, put the nat in drede.

The Wyf of Bathe I pray yow that ye rede

30 Of this matere that we have on honde.

God graunte yow your lyf frely to lede

In fredam, for ful hard is to be bonde.

THE COMPLAINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS PURSE

To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight

Complayne I, for ye be my lady dere.

I am so sory, now that ye been lyght;

For certes but yf ye make me hevy chere,

Me were as leef be layd upon my bere;

For which unto your mercy thus I crye,

Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye.

Now voucheth sauf this day or hyt be nyght

That I of yow the blisful soun may here

10 Or see your colour lyk the sonne bryght

That of yelownesse hadde never pere.

Ye be my lyf, ye be myn hertes stere.

Quene of comfort and of good companye,

Beth hevy ageyn, or elles moot I dye.

Now purse that ben to me my lyves lyght

And saveour as doun in this world here,

Out of this toune helpe me thurgh your myght,

Syn that ye wole nat ben my tresorere;

For I am shave as nye as any frere.

20 But yet I pray unto your curtesye,

Beth hevy agen, or elles moot I dye.

O conquerour of Brutes Albyon,

Which that by lyne and free eleccion

Been verray kyng, this song to yow I sende,

And ye, that mowen alle oure harmes amende,

Have mynde upon my supplicacion.

PROVERBS

What shul these clothes thus manyfold,

Lo this hote somers day?

After grete hete cometh cold;

No man caste his pilche away.

Of al this world the large compas

Yt wil not in myn armes tweyne;

Who so mochel wol embrace,

Litel therof he shal distreyne.

AGAINST WOMEN UNCONSTANT

Madame, for your newefangelnesse

Many a servaunt have ye put out of grace.

I take my leve of your unstedfastnesse,

For wel I wot, whyl ye have lyves space,

Ye can not love ful half yeer in a place,

To newe thing your lust is ay so kene.

In stede of blew, thus may ye were al grene.

Right as a mirour nothing may impresse,

But, lightly as it cometh, so mot it pace,

10 So fareth your love, your werkes beren witnesse.

Ther is no feith that may your herte enbrace,

But as a wedercok, that turneth his face

With every wind, ye fare, and that is sene;

In stede of blew, thus may ye were al grene.

Ye might be shryned for your brotelnesse

Bet than Dalyda, Creseyde or Candace,

For ever in chaunging stant your sikernesse;

That tache may no wight fro your herte arace.

If ye lese oon, ye can wel tweyn purchace;

20 Al light for somer (ye woot wel what I mene),

In stede of blew, thus may ye were al grene.

COMPLAYNT D'AMOURS

I, which that am the sorwefulleste man

That in this world was ever yit livinge,

And leest recoverer of himselven can,

Beginne right thus my deedly compleininge

On hir that may to lyf and deeth me bringe,

Which hath on me no mercy ne no rewthe,

That love hir best, but sleeth me for my trewthe.

Can I noght doon ne seye that may yow lyke?

Ne, certes now; allas, allas the whyle!

10 Your plesaunce is to laughen whan I syke,

And thus ye me from al my blisse exyle.

Ye han me cast in thilke spitous yle

Ther never man on lyve mighte asterte;

This have I, for I love you, swete herte!

Sooth is, that wel I woot, by lyklinesse,

If that it were a thing possible to do

For to acompte youre beautee and goodnesse,

I have no wonder thogh ye do me wo;

Sith I, th' unworthiest that may ryde or go,

20 Durste ever thinken in so hy a place.

What wonder is, thogh ye do me no grace?

Allas, thus is my lyf brought to an ende;

My deeth, I see, is my conclusioun.

I may wel singe, "In sory tyme I spende

My lyf." That song may have confusioun.

For mercy, pitee, and deep affeccioun,

I sey for me, for al my deedly chere,

Alle thise diden, in that, me love yow dere.

And in this wyse and in dispayr I live

30 In love -- nay, but in dispayr I dye!

But shal I thus yow my deeth foryive,

That causeles doth me this sorwe drye?

Ye, certes, I! For she of my folye

Hath nought to done although she do me sterve,

Hit is nat with hir wil that I hir serve.

Than sithen I am of my sorwe the cause

And sithen I have this withoute hir reed,

Than may I seyn right shortly in a clause,

It is no blame unto hir womanheed

40 Though swich a wrecche as I be for hir deed.

Yet alwey two thinges doon me dye,

That is to seyn, hir beautee and myn ye';

So that, algates, she is verray rote

Of my disese and of my deth also,

For with oon word she mighte be my bote,

If that she vouched sauf for to do so.

But than is hir gladnesse at my wo?

It is hir wone plesaunce for to take

To seen hir servaunts dyen for hir sake.

50 But certes, than is al my wonderinge,

Sithen she is the fayrest creature,

As to my doom, that ever was livinge,

The benignest and beste eek that Nature

Hath wrought or shal, whyl that the world may dure,

Why that she lefte Pite so behinde?

It was, ywis, a greet defaute in Kinde.

Yit is al this no lak to hir, pardee,

But God or Nature sore wolde I blame.

For though she shewe no pite unto me,

60 Sithen that she doth othere men the same,

I ne oughte to despyse my ladyes game;

It is hir pley to laughen whan men syketh,

And I assente al that hir list and lyketh.

Yet wolde I, as I dar, with sorwful herte

Biseche unto your meke womanhede

That I now dorste my sharpe sorwes smerte

Shewe by word, that ye wolde ones rede

The compleynte of me, which ful sore I drede

That I have seid here, through myn unkonninge,

70 In any word to your displesinge.

Lothest of anything that ever was loth

Were me, as wisly God my soule save,

To seyn a thing through which ye might be wroth;

And, to that day that I be leyd in grave,

A trewer servaunt shulle ye never have;

And, though that I have pleyned unto you here,

Foryiveth it me, myn owne lady dere.

Ever have I been, and shal, how-so I wende,

Outher to live or dye, your humble trewe.

80 Ye been to me my ginning and myn ende,

Sonne of the sterre bright and clere of hewe;

Alwey in oon to love yow freshly newe,

By God and by my trouthe, is myn entente;

To live or dye, I wol it never repente!

This compleynte on Seint Valentynes day,

Whan every foughel chesen shal his make,

To hir, whos I am hool and shal alwey,

This woful song and this compleynte I make,

That never yit wolde me to mercy take;

90 And yit wol I evermore her serve

And love hir best, although she do me sterve.

MERCILES BEAUTE

Your yen two wol slee me sodenly;

I may the beautee of hem not sustene,

So woundeth hit thourghout my herte kene.

And but your word wol helen hastily

My hertes wounde while that hit is grene,

Your yen [two wol slee me sodenly];

[I may the beautee of hem not sustene].

Upon my trouthe I sey you feithfully

That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene,

10 For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene.

Your yen [two wol slee me sodenly];

[I may the beautee of hem not sustene],

[So woundeth it thourghout my herte kene].

So hath your beautee fro your herte chaced

Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne,

For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.

Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;

I sey you sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;

So hath your beautee [fro your herte chaced]

20 [Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne].

Allas, that Nature hath in you compassed

So greet beautee, that no man may atteyne

To mercy though he sterve for the peyne.

So hath your beautee [fro your herte chaced]

[Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne],

[For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne].

Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,

I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;

Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.

30 He may answere and seye this and that;

I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.

Sin I fro Love [escaped am so fat],

[I never thenk to ben in his prison lene].

Love hath my name ystrike out of his sclat,

And he is strike out of my bokes clene

For evermo; [ther] is non other mene.

Sin I fro Love [escaped am so fat],

[I never thenk to ben in his prison lene];

[Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene].

A BALADE OF COMPLAINT

Compleyne ne koude, ne might myn herte never,

My peynes halve, ne what torment I have,

Though that I sholde in your presence ben ever,

Myn hertes lady, as wisly he me save

That Bountee made, and Beautee list to grave

In your persone, and bad hem bothe in-fere

Ever t' awayte, and ay be wher ye were.

As wisly he gye alle my joyes here

As I am youres, and to yow sad and trewe,

10 And ye, my lyf and cause of my gode chere,

And deeth also, whan ye my peynes newe,

My worldes joye, whom I wol serve and sewe,

Myn heven hool, and al my suffisaunce,

Whom for to serve is set al my plesaunce.

Beseching yow in my most humble wyse

T' accepte in worth this litel pore dyte,

And for my trouthe my servyce not despyse,

Myn observaunce eke have not in despyte,

Ne yit to longe to suffren in this plyte;

20 I yow beseche, myn hertes lady, here,

Sith I yow serve, and so wil yeer by yere.

A TREATISE ON THE ASTROLABE

PART 1

Lyte Lowys my sone, I aperceyve wel by certeyne

evydences thyn abilite to lerne sciences

touching nombres and proporciouns; and as wel

considre I thy besy praier in special to lerne the

tretys of the Astrelabie. Than for as moche as a

philosofre saith, "he wrappith him in his frend,

that condescendith to the rightfulle praiers of his

frend," therfore have I yeven the a suffisant Astrolabie

as for oure orizonte, compowned

10 after the latitude of Oxenforde; upon

which, by mediacioun of this litel tretys, I

purpose to teche the a certein nombre of conclusions

aperteynyng to the same instrument. I

seie a certein of conclusions, for thre causes. The

first cause is this: truste wel that alle the conclusions

that han be founde, or ellys possibly

might be founde in so noble an instrument as is

an Astrelabie ben unknowe parfitly to eny mortal

man in this regioun, as I suppose. Another

20 cause is this, that sothly in any tretis of the

Astrelabie that I have seyn, there be somme

conclusions that wol not in alle thinges parformen

her bihestes; and somme of hem ben to

harde to thy tendir age of ten yeer to conceyve.

This tretis, divided in 5 parties, wol I shewe

the under full light reules and naked wordes in

Englissh, for Latyn canst thou yit but small,

my litel sone. But natheles suffise to the these

trewe conclusions in Englissh as wel as sufficith

30 to these noble clerkes Grekes these

same conclusions in Grek; and to Arabiens

in Arabik, and to Jewes in Ebrew, and to

Latyn folk in Latyn; whiche Latyn folk had

hem first out of othere dyverse langages, and

writen hem in her owne tunge, that is to seyn,

in Latyn. And God woot that in alle these

langages and in many moo han these conclusions

ben suffisantly lerned and taught, and yit

by diverse reules; right as diverse pathes

40 leden diverse folk the righte way to Rome.

Now wol I preie mekely every discret persone

that redith or herith this litel tretys to have

my rude endityng for excusid, and my superfluite

of wordes, for two causes. The firste cause

is for that curious endityng and hard sentence

is ful hevy at onys for such a child to lerne.

And the secunde cause is this, that sothly me

semith better to writen unto a child twyes a

god sentence, than he forgete it onys.

50 And Lowys, yf so be that I shewe the in

my lighte Englissh as trewe conclusions

touching this mater, and not oonly as trewe

but as many and as subtile conclusiouns, as

ben shewid in Latyn in eny commune tretys

of the Astrelabie, konne me the more thank.

And preie God save the king, that is lord of

this langage, and alle that him feith berith and

obeieth, everich in his degre, the more and

the lasse. But considre wel that I ne usurpe

60 not to have founden this werk of my labour

or of myn engyn. I n' am but a lewd compilator

of the labour of olde astrologiens, and have it

translatid in myn Englissh oonly for thy doctrine.

And with this swerd shal I sleen envie.

Prima pars. -- The firste partie of this tretys

shal reherse the figures and the membres of

thyn Astrelabie by cause that thou shalt have

the gretter knowing of thyn oune instrument.

Secunda pars. -- The secunde partie

70 shal techen the worken the verrey practik

of the forseide conclusiouns, as ferforth and

as narwe as may be shewed in so small an

instrument portatif aboute. For wel woot

every astrologien that smallist fraccions ne

wol not be shewid in so small an instrument as

in subtile tables calculed for a cause.

Tertia pars. -- The thirde partie shal contene

diverse tables of longitudes and latitudes

of sterres fixe for the Astrelabie, and tables

80 of the declinacions of the sonne, and tables

of longitudes of citees and townes; and

tables as well for the governaunce of a clokke, as

for to fynde the altitude meridian; and many anothir

notable conclusioun after the kalenders

of the reverent clerkes, Frere J. Somer and

Frere N. Lenne.

Quarta pars. -- The fourthe partie shal ben

a theorike to declare the moevyng of the celestiall

bodies with the causes. The whiche

90 fourthe partie in speciall shal shewen a

table of the verrey moeving of the mone

from houre to houre every day and in every

signe after thyn almenak. Upon which table

there folewith a canoun suffisant to teche as

wel the manere of the worchynge of the same

conclusioun as to knowe in oure orizonte with

which degre of the zodiak that the mone arisith

in any latitude, and the arisyng of any planete

after his latitude fro the ecliptik lyne.

100 Quinta pars. -- The fifthe partie shal

be an introductorie, after the statutes of

oure doctours, in which thou maist lerne a gret

part of the generall rewles of theorik in astrologie.

In which fifthe partie shalt thou fynden

tables of equaciouns of houses after the latitude of

Oxenforde; and tables of dignitees of planetes,

and othere notefull thinges, yf God wol vouche

saaf and his Moder the Maide, moo then I behete.

Thyn Astrolabie hath a ring to putten on

the thombe of thi right hond in taking the

height of thinges. And tak kep, for from henes

forthward I wol clepen the heighte of any thing

that is taken by the rewle "the altitude," withoute

moo wordes.

This ryng renneth in a maner toret fast

to the moder of thyn Astrelabie in so rowme a

space that it distourbith not the instrument to

hangen after his right centre.

The moder of thin Astrelabye is thikkest

plate, perced with a large hool, that resceiveth

in hir wombe the thynne plates compowned

for diverse clymates, and thy reet shapen in

manere of a nett or of a web of a loppe.

This moder is dividid on the bakhalf with

a lyne that cometh descending fro the ring

doun to the netherist bordure. The whiche

lyne, fro the forseide ring unto the centre of

the large hool amidde, is clepid the south lyne,

or ellis the lyne meridional. And the remenaunt

of this lyne doun to the bordure is

clepid the north lyne, or ellis the lyne of midnyght.

Overthwart this forseide longe lyne ther

crossith him another lyne of the same lengthe

from eest to west. Of the whiche lyne, from

a litel cros (+) in the bordure unto the centre

of the large hool, is clepid the est lyne, or

ellis the lyne orientale. And the remenaunt of

this lyne, fro the forseide centre unto the bordure,

is clepid the west lyne, or ellis the lyne

occidentale. Now hast thou here the foure

10 quarters of thin Astrolabie divided after the

foure principales plages or quarters of the firmament.

The est syde of thyn Astrolabie is clepid

the right syde, and the west syde is clepid the

left syde. Forget not thys, litel Lowys. Put

the ryng of thyn Astrolabie upon the thombe

of thi right hond, and than wol his right side

be toward thi lift side, and his left side wol be

toward thy right side. Tak this rewle generall,

as wel on the bak as on the wombe syde. Upon

the ende of this est lyne, as I first seide, is

10 marked a litel cros (+), where as evere

moo generaly is considerid the entring of

the first degre in which the sonne arisith.

Fro this litel cros (+) up to the ende

of the lyne meridionall, under the ryng, shalt

thou fynden the bordure divided with 90 degrees;

and by that same proporcioun is every

quarter of thin Astrolabie divided. Over the

whiche degrees there ben noumbres of augrym

that dividen thilke same degres fro 5 to 5, as

shewith by longe strikes bitwene. Of whiche

longe strikes the space bitwene contenith

10 a myle wey, and every degre of the bordure

conteneth 4 minutes; this is to seien,

mynutes of an houre.

Under the compas of thilke degrees ben

writen the names of the 12 Signes: as

Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo,

Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricornus, Aquarius,

Piscis. And the nombres of the degrees of

thoo signes be writen in augrym above, and

with longe divisiouns fro 5 to 5, dyvidid fro

the tyme that the signe entrith unto the last

ende. But understond wel that these degres

10 of signes ben everich of hem considred

of 60 mynutes, and every mynute of

60 secundes, and so furth into smale fraccions

infinite, as saith Alkabucius. And therfore

knowe wel that a degre of the bordure contenith

4 minutes, and a degre of a signe conteneth

60 minutes, and have this in mynde.

Next this folewith the cercle of the daies,

that ben figured in manere of degres, that contenen

in nombre 365, dividid also with longe

strikes fro 5 to 5, and the nombre in augrym

writen under that cercle.

Next the cercle of the daies folewith the

cercle of the names of the monthes, that is to

say, Januarius, Februarius, Marcius, Aprilis,

Maius, Junius, Julius, Augustus, September,

October, November, December. The names

of these monthes were clepid somme for

her propirtees and somme by statutes of

Arabiens, somme by othre lordes of Rome.

Eke of these monthes, as liked to Julius

10 Cesar and to Cesar Augustus, somme were

compouned of diverse nombres of daies, as

Julie and August. Than hath Januarie 31 daies,

Februarie 28, March 31, Aprill 30, May 31,

Junius 30, Julius 31, Augustus 31, Septembre

30, Octobre 31, Novembre 30, Decembre 31.

Natheles, all though that Julius Cesar toke 2

daies out of Feverer and putte hem in his

month of Juyll, and Augustus Cesar clepid the

month of August after his name and ordeined

20 it of 31 daies, yit truste wel that the

sonne dwellith therfore nevere the more

ne lasse in oon signe than in another.

Than folewen the names of the holy

daies in the Kalender, and next hem the lettres

of the A B C on whiche thei fallen.

Next the forseide cercle of the A B C,

under the cross lyne, is marked the skale in

manere of 2 squyres, or ellis in manere of laddres,

that serveth by his 12 pointes and his

dyvisiouns of ful many a subtil conclusioun.

Of this forseide skale fro the cross lyne unto

the verrey angle is clepid Umbra Versa, and

the nethir partie is clepid Umbra Recta, or

ellis Umbra Extensa.

Than hast thou a brod reule, that hath

on either ende a square plate perced with certein

holes, somme more and somme lasse, to

resceyve the stremes of the sonne by day, and

eke by mediacioun of thin eye to knowe the

altitude of sterres by night.

Than is there a large pyn in manere of

an extre, that goth thorugh the hole that halt

the tables of the clymates and the riet in the

wombe of the moder; thorugh which pyn ther

goth a litel wegge, which that is clepid the

hors, that streynith all these parties to-hepe.

Thys forseide grete pyn in manere of an extre

is ymagyned to be the Pool Artik in thyn

Astralabie.

The wombe syde of thyn Astrelabie is

also divided with a longe cros in 4 quarters

from est to west, fro southe to northe, fro

right syde to left side, as is the bakside.

The bordure of which wombe side is

divided fro the point of the est lyne unto the

point of the south lyne under the ring, in 90

degrees; and by that same proporcioun is every

quarter divided, as is the bakside. That

amountith 360 degrees. And understond wel

that degres of this bordure ben aunswering and

consentrike to the degrees of the equinoxiall,

that is dividid in the same nombre as every

10 othir cercle is in the highe hevene. This

same bordure is divided also with 23

lettres capitals and a small cross (+) above

the south lyne, that shewith the 24 houres

equals of the clokke. And, as I have seid, 5

of these degres maken a myle wey, and 3 mile-wei

maken an houre. And every degre of thys

bordure contenith 4 minutes, and every minute

60 secundes. Now have I told the twyes.

The plate under the riet is discrived

with 3 cercles, of whiche the leest is

clepid the cercle of Cancre by cause that the

heved of Cancre turnith evermo consentrik

upon the same cercle. In this heved

of Cancer is the grettist declinacioun northward

of the sonne, and therfore is he clepid

solsticium of somer; which declinacioun, after

Ptholome, is 23 degrees and 50 minutes as

10 wel in Cancer as in Capricorn. This signe

of Cancer is clepid the tropik of somer, of

tropos, that is to seien "ageynward." For than

beginneth the sonne to passen from us-ward.

The myddel cercle in wydnesse, of these 3,

is clepid the cercle equinoxiall, upon which

turnith evermo the hevedes of Aries and Libra.

And understond wel that evermo thys cercle

equinoxiall turnith justly from verrey est to verrey

west as I have shewed the in the speer

20 solide. This same cercle is clepid also

Equator, that is the weyer of the day; for

whan the sonne is in the hevedes of Aries and

Libra, than ben the dayes and the nightes ylike

of lengthe in all the world. And therfore ben

these 2 signes called the equinoxiis. And all

that moeveth withinne the hevedes of these

Aries and Libra, his moevyng is clepid northward;

and all that moevith withoute these

hevedes, his moevyng is clepid southward,

30 as fro the equinoxiall. Tak kep of these

latitudes north and south, and forget it nat.

By this cercle equinoxiall ben considred the

24 houres of the clokke; for evermo the arisyng

of 15 degrees of the equinoxiall makith an

houre equal of the clokke. This equinoxiall is

clepid the gurdel of the first moeving, or ellis

of the firste moevable. And note that the firste

moevyng is clepid moevyng of the firste moevable

of the 8 speer, which moeving is from

40 est to west, and eft ageyn into est. Also

it is clepid girdel of the firste moeving for it

departith the firste moevable, that is to seyn

the spere, in two like partyes evene distantz

fro the poles of this world.

The widest of these 3 principale cercles is

clepid the cercle of Capricorne, by cause that

the heved of Capricorne turneth evermo consentrik

upon the same cercle. In the heved of

this forseide Capricorne is the grettist declinacioun

50 southward of the sonne, and therfore

it is clepid the solsticium of wynter.

This signe of Capricorne is also clepid the

tropic of wynter, for than begynneth the sonne

to come ageyn to us-ward.

Upon this forseide plate ben compassed

certeyn cercles that highten almycanteras, of

whiche somme of hem semen parfit cercles and

somme semen inparfit. The centre that stondith

amyddes the narwest cercle is clepid the

cenyth. And the netherist cercle, or the firste

cercle, is clepid the orizonte, that is to seyn,

the cercle that divideth the two emysperies,

that is, the partie of the hevene above the

10 erthe and the partie bynethe. These almykanteras

ben compowned by 2 and 2, all

be it so that on diverse Astrelabies somme

almykanteras ben divided by oon, and somme

by two, and somme by thre, after the quantite

of the Astrelabie. This forseide cenyth is

ymagined to ben the verrey point over the

crowne of thin heved. And also this cenyth

is the verray pool of the orizonte in every regioun.

From this cenyth, as it semeth, there

comen a maner croked strikes like to the clawes

of a loppe, or elles like the werk of a wommans

calle, in kervyng overthwart the almykanteras.

And these same strikes or divisiouns

ben clepid azimutz, and thei dividen the orisounte

of thin Astrelabie in 24 divisiouns. And

these azymutz serven to knowe the costes of

the firmament, and to othre conclusions, as

10 for to knowe the cenyth of the sonne and

of every sterre.

Next these azymutz, under the cercle

of Cancer, ben there 12 divisiouns embelif,

muche like to the shap of the azemutz, that

shewen the spaces of the houres of planetes.

The riet of thin Astrelabie with thy zodiak,

shapen in manere of a net or of a lopweb

after the olde descripcioun, which thou maist

turnen up and doun as thiself liketh, contenith

certein nombre of sterres fixes, with her longitudes

and latitudes determinat, yf so be that the

maker have not errid. The names of the sterres

ben writen in the margyn of the riet there as thei

sitte, of whiche sterres the smale point is

10 clepid the centre. And understond also that

alle the sterres sitting within the zodiak of

thin Astrelabie ben clepid sterres of the north,

for thei arise by northe the est lyne. And all the

remenaunt fixed oute of the zodiak ben clepid

sterres of the south. But I seie not that thei arisen

alle by southe the est lyne; witnesse on Aldeberan

and Algomeysa. Generaly understond this

rewle, that thilke sterres that ben clepid sterres

of the north arisen rather than the degre of

20 her longitude, and alle the sterres of the

south arisen after the degre of her longitude --

this is to seyn, sterres fixed in thyn

Astrelabie. The mesure of this longitude of

sterres is taken in the lyne ecliptik of hevene,

under which lyne, whan that the sonne and the

mone be lyne-right, or ellis in the superficie of

this lyne, than is the eclipse of the sonne or of

the mone, as I shal declare, and eke the cause

why. But sothly the ecliptik lyne of thy

30 zodiak is the utterist bordure of thy zodiak

there the degrees be marked.

Thy zodiak of thin Astrelabie is shapen as

a compas which that contenith a large brede

as after the quantite of thyn Astrelabie, in ensample

that the zodiak in hevene is ymagyned

to ben a superfice contenyng a latitude of 12

degrees, whereas alle the remenaunt of cercles

in the hevene ben ymagyned verrey lynes withoute

eny latitude. Amiddes this celestial

40 zodiak is ymagined a lyne which that is

clepid the ecliptik lyne, under which lyne

is evermo the wey of the sonne. Thus ben

there 6 degres of the zodiak on that oo syde

of the lyne and 6 degrees on that othir. This

zodiak is dividid in 12 principale divisiouns that

departen the 12 signes, and, for the streitnesse

of thin Astrolabie, than is every smal divisioun

in a signe departed by two degrees and two, I

mene degrees contenyng 60 mynutes. And

50 this forseide hevenysshe zodiak is clepid

the cercle of the signes, or the cercle of the

bestes, for "zodia" in langage of Grek sowneth

"bestes" in Latyn tunge. And in the zodiak

ben the 12 signes that han names of bestes,

or ellis for whan the sonne entrith in eny

of tho signes he takith the propirte of suche

bestes, or ellis for that the sterres that ben

ther fixed ben disposid in signes of bestes or

shape like bestes, or elles whan the planetes

60 ben under thilke signes thei causen us by

her influence operaciouns and effectes like

to the operaciouns of bestes.

And understond also that whan an hot planete

cometh into an hot signe, than encrescith

his hete; and yf a planete be cold, than amenusith

his coldnesse by cause of the hoote sygne.

And by thys conclusioun maist thou take ensample

in alle the signes, be thei moist or drie,

or moeble or fixe, reknyng the qualite of the

70 planete as I first seide. And everich of

these 12 signes hath respect to a certeyn

parcel of the body of a man, and hath it in

governaunce; as Aries hath thin heved, and

Taurus thy nekke and thy throte, Gemini thin

armholes and thin armes, and so furth, as shall

be shewid more pleyn in the 5 partie of this

tretis.

This zodiak, which that is part of the 8 speer,

over-kervith the equinoxial, and he over-kervith

80 him ageyn in evene parties; and

that oo half declineth southward; and that

othir northward, as pleinly declarith the Tretys

of the Speer.

Than hast thou a label that is shapen like

a reule, save that it is streit and hath no plates

on either ende with holes. But with the smale

point of the forseide label shalt thou calcule

thin equaciouns in the bordure of thin Astralabie,

as by thin almury.

90 Thin almury is clepid the denticle of

Capricorne, or ellis the calculer. This same

almury sitt fix in the heved of Capricorne, and

it serveth of many a necessarie conclusioun in

equacions of thinges as shal be shewid.

PART 2

To fynde the degre in which the sonne is

RubA day by day, after his cours aboute.

Rekne and knowe which is the day of thy

month, and ley thy rewle upon that same day,

and than wol the verrey poynt of thy rewle

sitten in the bordure upon the degre of thy

sonne.

Ensample as thus: The yeer of oure Lord

1391, the 12 day of March at midday, I wolde

knowe the degre of the sonne. I soughte in

the bakhalf of myn Astrelabie and fond the

10 cercle of the daies, the whiche I knowe by

the names of the monthes writen under the

same cercle. Tho leyde I my reule over this

foreseide day, and fond the point of my reule

in the bordure upon the firste degre of Aries,

a litel within the degre. And thus knowe I this

conclusioun.

Anothir day I wolde knowen the degre of

my sonne, and this was at midday in the 13

day of Decembre. I fond the day of the

20 month in manere as I seide; tho leide I my

rewle upon this forseide 13 day, and fond

the point of my rewle in the bordure upon

the firste degre of Capricorne a lite within the

degre. And than had I of this conclusioun the

ful experience.

Rub To knowe the altitude of the sonne or of

RubA othre celestial bodies.

Put the ryng of thyn Astrelabie upon thy

right thombe, and turne thi lift syde ageyn

the light of the sonne; and remewe thy rewle

up and doun til that the stremes of the sonne

shine thorugh bothe holes of thi rewle. Loke

than how many degrees thy rule is areised fro

the litel cros upon thin est lyne, and tak there

the altitude of thi sonne. And in this same

wise maist thow knowe by night the altitude

10 of the mone or of brighte sterres.

This chapitre is so generall evere in oon

that there nedith no more declaracioun; but

forget it not.

Rub To knowe every tyme of the day by light

RubA of the sonne; and every tyme of the nyght by

RubB the sterres fixe; and eke to knowe by nyght or

RubC by day the degre of eny signe that ascendith on

RubD the est orisonte, which that is clepid comounly

RubE the ascendent, or ellis horoscopum.

Tak the altitude of the sonne whan the list,

as I have seid, and set the degre of the sonne,

in caas that it be beforn the myddel of the day,

among thyn almykanteras on the est syde of

thin Astrelabie; and if it be after the myddel

of the day, set the degre of thy sonne upon the

west syde. Tak this manere of settyng for a

general rule, ones for evere. And whan thou

hast set the degre of thy sonne upon as

10 many almykanteras of height as was the altitude

of the sonne taken by thy rule, ley

over thi label upon the degre of the sonne; and

than wol the point of thi labell sitte in the

bordure upon the verrey tyde of the day.

Ensample as thus: The yeer of oure lord

1391, the 12 day of March, I wolde knowe the

tyde of the day. I tok the altitude of my sonne,

and fond that it was 25 degrees and 30 minutes

of height in the bordure on the bak

20 side. Tho turned I myn Astrelabye, and by

cause that it was before mydday, I turned

my riet and sette the degre of the sonne, that

is to seyn the firste degre of Aries, on the right

side of myn Astrelabye upon 25 degrees and

30 mynutes of height among myn almykanteras.

Tho leide I my label upon the degre of my

sonne, and fond the point of my label in the

bordure upon a capital lettre that is clepid

an X. Tho rekned I alle the capitale lettres

30 fro the lyne of mydnight unto this forseide

lettre X, and fond that it was 9 of the

clokke of the day. Tho loked I doun upon myn

est orizonte, and fond there the 20 degre of

Geminis ascendyng, which that I tok for myn

ascendent. And in this wise had I the experience

for evermo in which manere I shulde

knowe the tyde of the day and eke myn ascendent.

Tho wolde I wite the same nyght folewyng

40 the houre of the nyght, and wroughte

in this wise: Among an heep of sterres

fixe it liked me for to take the altitude of the

faire white sterre that is clepid Alhabor, and

fond hir sittyng on the west side of the lyne

of midday, 12 degrees of heighte taken by my

rewle on the bak side. Tho sette I the centre

of this Alhabor upon 12 degrees among myn

almykanteras upon the west side, by cause that

she was founde on the west side. Tho

50 leyde I my label over the degre of the

sonne, that was discendid under the west

orisounte, and rekned all the lettres capitals

fro the lyne of midday unto the point of my

label in the bordure, and fond that it was

passed 9 of the clokke the space of 10 degrees.

Tho lokid I doun upon myn est orisounte, and

fond there 10 degrees of Scorpius ascendyng,

whom I tok for myn ascendent. And thus

lerned I to knowe onys for ever in which

60 manere I shuld come to the houre of the

nyght, and to myn ascendent, as verrely as

may be taken by so smal an instrument.

But natheles this rule in generall wol I warne

the for evere: Ne make the nevere bold to

have take a just ascendent by thin Astrelabie,

or elles to have set justly a clokke, whan eny

celestial body by which that thou wenyst governe

thilke thinges be nigh the south lyne.

For trust wel, whan the sonne is nygh the

70 meridional lyne, the degre of the sonne

renneth so longe consentrik upon the almykanteras

that sothly thou shalt erre fro the

just ascendent. The same conclusioun sey I by

the centre of eny sterre fix by nyght. And

more over, by experience I wot wel that in

oure orisounte, from xi of the clokke unto oon

of the clokke, in taking of a just ascendent in

a portatif Astrelabie it is to hard to knowe --

I mene from xi of the clokke before the

80 houre of noon til oon of the clokke next

folewyng.

Rub A special declaracioun of the ascendent.

The ascendent sothly, as wel in alle nativites

as in questions and eleccions of tymes, is a

thing which that these astrologiens gretly observen.

Wherfore me semeth convenyent, syth

that I speke of the ascendent, to make of it

speciall declaracioun.

The ascendent sothly, to take it at the largest,

is thilke degre that ascendith at eny of

these forseide tymes upon the est orisounte.

10 And therfore, yf that eny planete ascende

at thatt same tyme in thilke forseide degre,

than hath he no latitude fro the ecliptik lyne,

but he is than in the degre of the ecliptik

which that is the degre of his longitude. Men

sayn that thilke planete is in horoscopo.

But sothly the hous of the ascendent, that

is to seyn, the first hous or the est angle, is a

thing more brod and large. For, after the statutes

of astrologiens, what celestial body

20 that is 5 degrees above thilke degre that

ascendith, or withinne that nombre, that is

to seyn neer the degree that ascendith, yit

rekne they thilke planete in the ascendent.

And what planete that is under thilke degre

that ascendith the space of 25 degres, yit seyn

thei that thilke planete is "like to him that is

the hous of the ascendent." But sothly, if he

passe the boundes of these forseide spaces,

above or bynethe, thei seyn that the planete

30 is "fallyng fro the ascendent." Yit saien

these astrologiens that the ascendent and

eke the lord of the ascendent may be shapen

for to be fortunat or infortunat, as thus: A

"fortunat ascendent" clepen they whan that no

wicked planete, as Saturne or Mars or elles

the Tayl of the Dragoun, is in the hous of the

ascendent, ne that no wicked planete have

noon aspect of enemyte upon the ascendent.

But thei wol caste that thei have a fortunat

40 planete in hir ascendent, and yit in his felicite;

and than sey thei that it is wel.

Further over thei seyn that the infortunyng of

an ascendent is the contrarie of these forseide

thinges. The lord of the ascendent, sey thei

that he is fortunat whan he is in god place

fro the ascendent, as in an angle, or in a succident

where as he is in hys dignite and comfortid

with frendly aspectes of planetes and

wel resceyved; and eke that he may seen

50 the ascendent; and that he be not retrograd,

ne combust, ne joyned with no

shrewe in the same signe; ne that he be not

in his discencioun, ne joyned with no planete

in his descencioun, ne have upon him noon

aspect infortunat; and than sey thei that he is

well.

Natheles these ben observaunces of judicial

matere and rytes of payens, in whiche my

spirit hath no feith, ne knowing of her

60 horoscopum. For they seyn that every

signe is departid in thre evene parties by

10 degrees, and thilke porcioun they clepe a

face. And although that a planete have a latitude

fro the ecliptik, yit sey somme folk, so

that the planete arise in that same signe with

eny degre of the forseide face in which his

longitude is rekned, that yit is the planete

in horoscopo, be it in nativyte or in eleccion,

etc.

Rub To knowe the verrey equacioun of the

RubA degre of the sonne yf so be that it falle bitwene

RubC thyn almykanteras.

For as muche as the almykanteras in thin

Astrelabie ben compowned by two and two,

where as somme almykanteras in sondry astrelabies

be compowned by 1 and 1, or elles by 2

and 2, it is necessarie to thy lernyng to teche

the first to knowe and worke with thin oune

instrument. Wherfore whan that the degre of

thi sonne fallith bytwixe 2 almykanteras, or

ellis yf thin almykanteras ben graven with

10 over-gret a poynt of a compas (for bothe

these thinges may causen errour as wel in

knowing of the tide of the day, as of the verrey

ascendent), thou must worken in this

wise:

Set the degre of thy sonne upon the hyer

almykanteras of bothe, and wayte wel where

as thin almury touchith the bordure and set

there a prikke of ynke. Sett doun agayn the

degre of the sunne upon the nether almykanteras

20 of bothe, and sett there another

pricke. Remeve than thin almury in

the bordure evene amiddes bothe prickes, and

this wol lede justly the degre of thi sonne to

sitte bitwene bothe almykanteras in his right

place. Ley than thy label over the degre of

thi sonne, and fynd in the bordure the verrey

tyde of the day, or of the night. And as verraily

shalt thou fynde upon thin est orisonte

thin ascendent.

Rub To knowe the spryng of the dawenyng

RubA and the ende of the evenyng, the whiche ben

RubB called the two crepuscules.

Set the nadir of thy sonne upon 18 degrees

of height among thyn almykanteras on the west

syde; and ley thy label on the degre of thy

sonne, and than shal the point of thy label

shewen the spryng of the day. Also set the

nader of thy sonne upon 18 degrees of height

among thin almykanteras on the est side, and

ley over thy label upon the degre of the sonne,

and with the point of thy label fynd in the

10 bordure the ende of the evenyng, that is

verrey nyght.

The nader of the sonne is thilke degre that

is opposyt to the degre of the sonne, in the

7 signe, as thus: every degre of Aries by

ordir is nadir to every degre of Libra by ordre,

and Taurus to Scorpioun, Gemini to Sagittarie,

Cancer to Capricorne, Leo to Aquarie, Virgo

to Piscis. And if eny degre in thy zodiak be

derk, his nadir shal declare hym.

Rub To knowe the arch of the day, that some

RubA folk callen the day artificiall, fro sonne arisyng

RubB tyl it go to reste.

Set the degre of thi sonne upon thin est

orisonte, and ley thy label on the degre of

the sonne, and at the point of thy label in the

bordure set a pricke. Turne than thy riet

aboute tyl the degre of the sonne sitte upon

the west orisonte, and ley thy label upon the

same degre of the sonne, and at the poynt of

thy label set another pricke. Rekne than

the quantite of tyme in the bordure bitwixe

10 bothe prickes, and tak there thyn arch of

the day. The remenaunt of the bordure

under the orisonte is the arch of the nyght.

Thus maist thou rekne bothe arches, or every

porcioun, of whether that the liketh. And by

this manere of worching maist thou se how

longe that eny sterre fix dwelleth above the

erthe, fro tyme that he riseth til he go to reste.

But the day naturall, that is to seyn 24 hours,

is the revolucioun of the equinoxial with as

20 muche partie of the zodiak as the sonne of

his propre moeving passith in the mene

while.

Rub To turne the houres inequales in houres

RubA equales.

Know the nombre of the degrees in the

houres inequales, and depart hem by 15, and

tak there thin houres equales.

Rub To knowe the quantite of the day vulgar,

RubA that is to seyn fro spryng of the day unto

RubB verrey nyght.

Know the quantite of thy crepuscles, as I

have taught in the 3 chapitre bifore, and adde

hem to the arch of thy day artificial, and tak

there the space of all the hool day vulgar unto

verrey night. The same manere maist thou

worche to knowe the quantite of the vulgar

nyght.

Rub To knowe the quantite of houres inequales

RubA by day.

Understond wel that these houres inequales

ben clepid houres of planetes. And understond

wel that som tyme ben thei lenger by

day than by night, and som tyme the contrarie.

But understond wel that evermo generaly

the houre inequal of the day with the

houre inequal of the night contenen 30 degrees

of the bordure, which bordure is evermo answeryng

to the degrees of the equinoxial.

10 Wherfore departe the arch of the day artificial

in 12, and tak there the quantite of

the houre inequale by day. And if thou abate

the quantite of the houre inequale by day out

of 30, than shal the remenaunt that levith parforme

the houre inequale by night.

Rub To knowe the quantite of houres

RubA equales.

The quantite of houres equales, that is to

seyn the houres of the clokke, ben departid by

15 degrees alredy in the bordure of thin Astrelaby,

as wel by night as by day, generaly for

evere. What nedith more declaracioun?

Wherfore whan the list to knowe hou many

houres of the clokke ben passed, or eny part

of eny of these houres that ben passed, or ellis

how many houres or parties of houres ben

10 to come fro such a tyme to such a tyme by

day or by night, know the degre of thy

sonne, and ley thy label on it. Turne thy ryet

aboute joyntly with thy label, and with the

poynt of it rekne in the bordure fro the sonne

arise unto that same place there thou desirist,

by day as by nyght. This conclusioun wol I declare

in the laste chapitre of the 4 partie of this

tretys so openly that ther shal lakke no word

that nedith to the declaracioun.

Rub Special declaracioun of the houres of

RubA planetes.

Understond wel that evermo, fro the arisyng

of the sonne til it go to reste, the nadir of

the sonne shal shewe the houre of the planete;

and fro that tyme forward al the night til the

sonne arise, than shal the verrey degre of the

sonne shewe the houre of the planete.

Ensample as thus: The xiij day of March

fyl upon a Saturday, peraventure, and atte risyng

of the sonne I fond the secunde degre

10 of Aries sittyng upon myn est orisonte, all

be it that it was but litel. Than fond I the

2 degre of Libra, nadir of my sonne, discending

on my west orisonte, upon which west orisonte

every day generaly, atte sonne arist, entrith the

houre of eny planete, after which planete the

day berith his name, and endith in the next

strike of the plate under the forseide west

orisonte. And evere as the sonne clymbith upper

and upper, so goth his nadir downer

20 and downer, teching by suche strikes the

houres of planetes by ordir as they sitten

in the hevene. The firste houre inequal of

every Saturday is to Saturne, and the secunde

to Jupiter, the thirde to Mars, the fourthe

to the sonne, the fifte to Venus, the sixte to

Mercurius, the seventhe to the mone. And

then ageyn the 8 is to Saturne, the 9 to

Jupiter, the 10 to Mars, the 11 to the sonne,

the 12 to Venus. And now is my sonne gon

30 to reste as for that Saturday. Than shewith

the verrey degre of the sonne the houre

of Mercurie entring under my west orisonte at

eve; and next him succedith the mone, and

so furth by ordir, planete after planete in houre

after houre, all the nyght longe til the sonne

arise. Now risith the sonne that Sonday by

the morwe, and the nadir of the sonne upon

the west orisonte shewith me the entring of the

houre of the forseide sonne. And in this

40 manere succedith planete under planete fro

Saturne unto the mone, and fro the mone up

ageyn to Saturne, houre after houre generaly.

And thus knowe I this conclusyoun.

Rub To knowe the altitude of the sonne in

RubA myddes of the day that is clepid the altitude

RubB meridian.

Set the degre of the sonne upon the lyne

meridional, and rekne how many degres of

almykanteras ben bitwyxe thin est orisonte and

the degre of thy sonne; and tak there thin altitude

meridian, this to seyn, the highest of the

sonne as for that day. So maist thou knowe in

the same lyne the heighest cours that eny sterre

fix clymbeth by night. This is to seyn that whan

eny sterre fix is passid the lyne meridional,

10 than begynneth it to descende; and so doth

the sonne.

Rub To knowe the degre of the sonne by thy

RubA ryet, for a maner curiosite.

Sek besily with thy rule the highest of the

sonne in mydde of the day. Turne than thin

Astrelabie, and with a pricke of ynke marke

the nombre of that same altitude in the lyne

meridional; turne than thy ryet aboute tyl thou

fynde a degre of thy zodiak according with the

pricke, this is to seyn, sitting on the pricke.

And in soth thou shalt finde but 2 degrees in

all the zodiak of that condicioun; and yit

10 thilke 2 degrees ben in diverse signes.

Than maist thou lightly, by the sesoun of

the yere, knowe the signe in which that is the

sonne.

Rub To knowe which day is lik to which

RubA day as of lengthe.

Loke whiche degrees ben ylike fer fro the

hevedes of Cancer and Capricorne, and loke

when the sonne is in eny of thilke degrees;

than ben the dayes ylike of lengthe. This is

to seyn that as longe is that day in that month,

as was such a day in such a month; there varieth

but litel.

Also, yf thou take 2 dayes naturales in the

yere ylike fer fro either point of the equinoxiall

10 in the opposyt parties, than as longe

is the day artificiall of that oon day as is the

night of that othir, and the contrarie.

Rub This chapitre is a maner declaracioun

RubA to conclusiouns that folewen.

Understond wel that thy zodiak is departed

in two halve circles, as fro the heved of Capricorne

unto the heved of Cancer, and ageynward

fro the heved of Cancer unto the heved

of Capricorne. The heved of Capricorne is

the lowest point where as the sonne goth in

wynter, and the heved of Cancer is the heighist

point in which the sonne goth in somer. And

therfore understond wel that eny two degrees

10 that ben ylike fer fro eny of these two

hevedes, truste wel that thilke two degrees

ben of ilike declinacioun, be it southward or

northward, and the daies of hem ben ilike of

lengthe and the nyghtes also, and the shadewes

ilyke, and the altitudes ylike atte midday

for evere.

Rub To knowe the verrey degre of eny maner

RubA sterre, straunge or unstraunge, after his longitude;

RubB though he be indetermynat in thin

RubC Astralabye, sothly to the trouthe thus he shal

RubD be knowe.

Tak the altitude of this sterre whan he is on

the est syde of the lyne meridionall, as nye

as thou mayst gesse; and tak an ascendent anon

right by som manere sterre fix which that thou

knowist; and forget not the altitude of the firste

sterre ne thyn ascendent. And whan that this

is don, aspye diligently whan this same firste

sterre passith eny thyng the south westward;

and cacche him anon right in the same

10 nombre of altitude on the west syde of this

lyne meridional, as he was kaught on the

est syde; and tak a newe ascendent anon-ryght

by som maner sterre fix which that thou knowist,

and forget not this secunde ascendent. And

whan that this is don, rekne than how many

degrees ben bitwixe the firste ascendent and

the secunde ascendent; and rekne wel the myddel

degre bitwene bothe ascendentes, and set

thilke myddel degre upon thyn est orizonte;

20 and wayte than what degre that sitte upon

the lyne meridional, and tak there the verrey

degre of the ecliptik in which the sterre

stondith for the tyme. For in the ecliptik is the

longitude of a celestiall body rekned, evene

fro the heved of Aries unto the ende of Pisces;

and his latitude is rekned after the quantite of

his declynacioun north or south toward the

polys of this world.

As thus: Yif it be of the sonne or of

30 eny fix sterre, rekne hys latitude or his

declinacioun fro the equinoxiall cercle; and

if it be of a planete, rekne than the quantite

of his latitude fro the ecliptik lyne, all be it

so that fro the equinoxiall may the declinacioun

or the latitude of eny body celestiall be rekned

after the site north or south and after the quantite

of his declinacioun. And right so may the

latitude or the declinacioun of eny body celestiall,

saaf oonly of the sonne, after hys site

40 north or south and after the quantite of his

declinacioun, be rekned fro the ecliptik

lyne; fro which lyne alle planetes som tyme

declinen north or south saaf oonly the forseide

sonne.

Rub To knowe the degrees of longitudes of

RubA fixe sterres after that they be determynat in

RubB thin Astrelabye, yf so be that thei be trewly

RubC sette.

Set the centre of the sterre upon the lyne

meridionall, and tak kep of thy zodiak, and

loke what degre of eny signe that sitte upon

the same lyne meridionall at that same tyme,

and tak there the degre in which the sterre

stondith. and with that same degre cometh that

same sterre unto that same lyne fro the orisonte.

Rub To knowe with which degre of the zodiak

RubA eny sterre fix in thin Astrelabie arisith

RubB upon the est orisonte, all though his dwellyng

RubC be in another signe.

Set the centre of the sterre upon the est

orisonte, and loke what degre of eny signe that

sitt upon the same orisonte at that same tyme.

And understond wel that with that same degre

arisith that same sterre.

And thys merveylous arisyng with a straunge

degre in another signe is by cause that the

latitude of the sterre fix is either north or south

fro the equinoxiall. But sothly the latitudes

10 of planetes be comounly rekened fro the

ecliptyk, by cause that noon of hem declyneth

but fewe degrees out fro the brede of the

zodiak. And tak god kep of this chapitre of

arisyng of celestialle bodies; for truste wel that

neyther mone ne sterre, as in our embelif

orisonte, arisith with that same degre of his

longitude saaf in oo cas, and that is whan they

have no latitude fro the ecliptyk lyne. But

natheles som tyme is everich of these planetes

20 under the same lyne.

Rub To knowe the declinacioun of eny degre

RubA in the zodiak fro the equinoxiall cercle.

Set the degre of eny signe upon the lyne

meridionall, and rekne hys altitude in the

almykanteras fro the est orisonte up to the same

degre set in the forseide lyne, and set there a

prikke; turne up than thy riet, and set the heved

of Aries or Libra in the same meridionall lyne,

and set there a nother prikke. And whan that

this is don, considre the altitudes of hem bothe;

for sothly the difference of thilke altitudes

10 is the declinacioun of thilke degre fro the

equinoxiall. And yf it so be that thilke degre

be northward fro the equinoxiall, than is

his declinacyoun north; yif it be southward,

than is it south.

Rub To knowe for what latitude in eny regioun

RubA the almykanteras of eny table ben compowned.

Rekene how many degrees of almykanteras

in the meridionall lyne ben fro the cercle equinoxiall

unto the cenyth, or elles from the pool

artyk unto the north orisonte; and for so gret

a latitude, or for so smal a latitude, is the table

compowned.

Rub To knowe in speciall the latitude of

RubA oure countre, I mene after the latitude of Oxenford,

RubB and the height of oure pool.

Understond wel that as fer is the heved of

Aries or Libra in the equinoxiall fro oure orisonte

as is the cenyth fro the pool artik; and

as high is the pool artik fro the orisonte as the

equinoxiall is fer fro the cenyth. I prove it

thus by the latitude of Oxenford: understond

wel that the height of oure pool artik fro oure

north orisonte is 51 degrees and 50 mynutes;

than is the cenyth fro oure pool artik 38 degrees

10 and 10 mynutes; than is the equinoxial

from oure cenyth 51 degrees and 50

mynutes; than is oure south orisonte from oure

equinoxiall 38 degres and 10 mynutes. Understond

wel this rekenyng. Also forget not

that the cenyth is 90 degrees of height from

the orisonte, and oure equinoxiall is 90 degres

from oure pool artik. Also this shorte rule is

soth, that the latitude of eny place in a regioun

is the distaunce fro the cenyth unto

20 the equinoxiall.

Rub To prove evidently the latitude of eny

RubA place in a regioun by the preve of the height

RubB of the pool artik in that same place.

In som wynters nyght whan the firmament

is cler and thikke sterred, wayte a tyme til

that eny sterre fix sitte lyne-right perpendiculer

over the pool artik, and clepe that sterre A;

and wayte another sterre that sitte lyne-right

under A, and under the pool, and clepe that

sterre F. And understond wel that F is not

considrid but oonly to declare that A sitte

evene over the pool. Tak than anoon-right

10 the altitude of A from the orisonte, and forget

it not; let A and F goo fare wel tyl

ageynst the dawenyng a gret while, and com

than ageyn, and abid til that A is evene under

the pool, and under F; for sothly than wol F

sitte over the pool, and A wol sitte under the

pool. Tak than eftsonys the altitude of A from

the orisonte, and note as wel his secunde altitude

as hys firste altitude. And whan that this

is doon, rekene how many degrees that the

20 firste altitude of A excedith his secunde altitude,

and tak half thilke porcioun that is

excedid and adde it to his secunde altitude,

and tak there the elevacioun of thy pool, and

eke the latitude of thy regioun; for these two

ben of oo nombre, this is to seyn, as many degres

as thy pool is elevat, so muche is the latitude

of the regioun.

Ensample as thus: Peraventure the altitude of

A in the evenyng is 56 degrees of height;

30 than wol his secunde altitude or the dawenyng

be 48 degres, that is 8 degrees lasse

than 56, that was his first altitude att even.

Tak than the half of 8 and adde it to 48 that

was his secunde altitude, and than hast thou

52. Now hast thou the height of thy pool and

the latitude of the regioun. But understond

wel that to prove this conclusioun and many

another faire conclusioun, thou must have a

plomet hongyng on a lyne, heygher than

40 thin heved, on a perche; and thilke lyne

must hange evene perpendiculer bytwixe

the pool and thin eye; and than shalt thou

seen yf A sitte evene over the pool, and over

F atte evene; and also yf F sitte evene over the

pool and over A or day.

Rub Another conclusioun to prove the

RubA height of the pool artik fro the orisonte.

Tak eny sterre fix that never descendith under

the orisonte in thilke regioun, and considre

his heighist altitude and his lowist altitude

fro the orisonte, and make a nombre of

bothe these altitudes; tak than and abate half

that nombre, and take there the elevacioun of

the pool artik in that same regioun.

Rub Another conclusioun to prove the latitude

RubA of the regioun.

Understond wel that the latitude of eny

place in a regioun is verrely the space bytwixe

the cenyth of hem that dwellen there and the

equinoxiall cercle north or south, takyng the

mesure in the meridional lyne, as shewith in

the almykanteras of thin Astrelabye. And thilke

space is as much as the pool artike is high in

that same place fro the orisonte. And than is

the depressioun of the pool antartik, that

10 is to seyn, than is the pool antartik, bynethe

the orisonte the same quantite of

space neither more ne lasse.

Than if thou desire to knowe this latitude

of the regioun, tak the altitude of the sonne

in the myddel of the day, whan the sonne is

in the hevedes of Aries or of Libra; for than

moeveth the sonne in the lyne equinoxiall;

and abate the nombre of that same sonnes altitude

out of 90 degrees, and than is the

20 remenaunt of the nombre that leveth

the latitude of the regioun. As thus:

I suppose that the sonne is thilke day at

noon 38 degrees of height; abate than 38

degrees oute of 90; so leveth there 52; than is

52 degrees the latitude. I say not this but for

ensample; for wel I wot the latitude of Oxenford

is certeyn minutes lasse; thow might

preve the same.

Now yf so be that the semeth to longe a

30 tarieng to abide til that the sonne be in the

hevedes of Aries or of Libra, than wayte

whan the sonne is in eny othir degre of the

zodiak, and considre the degre of his declinacioun

fro the equinoxiall lyne; and if it so be

that the sonnes declinacioun be northward fro

the equinoxiall, abate than fro the sonnes altitude

at non the nombre of his declinacioun,

and than hast thou the height of the hevedes

of Aries and Libra. As thus: My sonne

40 is peraventure in the 10 degre of Leoun,

almost 56 degrees of height at non,

and his declinacioun is almost 18 degrees

northward fro the equinoxiall; abate than thilke

18 degrees of declinacioun out of the altitude

at non; than leveth there 38 degrees and odde

minutes. Lo there the heved of Aries or Libra

and thin equinoxiall in that regioun. Also if

so be that the sonnes declinacioun be southward

fro the equinoxiall, adde than thilke

50 declinacioun to the altitude of the sonne at

noon, and tak there the hevedes of Aries

and Libra and thin equinoxial; abate than the

height of the equinoxial out of 90 degrees;

than leveth there the distance of the pool of

that regioun fro the equinoxiall. Or elles, if

the list, tak the highest altitude fro the equinoxial

of eny sterre fix that thou knowist, and

tak his netherest elongacioun (lengthing) fro

the same equinoxial lyne, and work in the

60 manere forseid.

Rub Declaracioun of the ascensioun of

RubA signes.

The excellence of the spere solide, amonges

othir noble conclusiouns, shewith manyfest the

diverse ascenciouns of signes in diverse places,

as wel in the right cercle as in the embelif

cercle. These auctours writen that thilke signe

is cleped of right ascensioun with which more

part of the cercle equinoxiall and lasse part of

the zodiak ascendith. and thilke signe ascendith

embelif with which lasse part of the

10 equinoxiall and more part of the zodiak

ascendith. Ferther-over, they seyn that in

thilke cuntrey where as the senith of hem that

dwellen there is in the equinoxial lyne, and

her orisonte passyng by the two poles of this

world, thilke folk han this right cercle and

the right orisonte; and evermore the arch of

the day and the arch of the night is there ilike

longe; and the sonne twies every yer passing

thorugh the cenith of hir heed, and two

20 someres and two wynters in a yer han these

forseide peple. And the almycanteras in

her Astrelabyes ben streight as a lyne, so as

shewith in the figure.

The utilite to knowe the ascensions of signes

in the right cercle is this: Truste wel that

by mediacioun of thilke ascensions these astrologiens,

by her tables and her instrumentes,

knowen verreily the ascensioun of every degre

and minute in all the zodiak in the embelif

30 cercle, as shal be shewed. And nota that

this forseide right orisonte, that is clepid

Orison Rectum, dividith the equinoxial into

right angles; and the embelif orisonte, where

as the pool is enhaunced upon the orisonte,

overkervith the equinoxiall in embilif angles,

as shewith in the figure.

Rub This is the conclusioun to knowe the

RubA ascensions of signes in the right cercle, that is

RubB circulus directus.

Set the heved of what signe the lyst to knowe

his ascendyng in the right cercle upon the lyne

meridionall, and wayte where thyn almury

touchith the bordure, and set there a prikke;

turne than thy riet westward til that the ende

of the forseide signe sitte upon the meridional

lyne and eftsonys wayte where thin almury

touchith the bordure, and set there another

pricke. Rekene than the nombre of degres

10 in the bordure bitwixe bothe prikkes, and

tak the ascensioun of the signe in the right

cercle. And thus maist thou werke with every

porcioun of thy zodiak.

Rub To knowe the ascensions of signes in the

RubA embelif cercle in every regioun, I mene, in

RubB circulo obliquo.

Set the heved of the signe which as the list

to knowe his ascensioun upon the est orisonte,

and wayte where thin almury touchith the bordure,

and there set a prikke. Turne than thy

riet upward til that the ende of the same signe

sitte upon the est orisonte, and wayte eftsonys

where as thin almury touchith the bordure,

and set there a nother prikke. Rekene than

the nombre of degrees in the bordure bitwyxe

10 bothe prikkes and tak there the ascensioun

of the signe in the embelif cercle.

And understond wel that alle the signes in thy

zodiak, fro the heved of Aries unto the ende

of Virgo, ben clepid signes of the north fro

the equinoxiall. And these signes arisen bitwyxe

the verrey est and the verrey north in

oure orisonte generaly for evere. And alle the

signes fro the heved of Libra unto the ende

of Pisces ben clepid signes of the south fro

20 the equinoxial; and these signes arisen

evermore bitwixe the verrey est and the

verrey south in oure orisonte. Also every signe

bitwixe the heved of Capricorne unto the ende

of Geminis arisith on oure orisonte in lasse

than 2 houres equales. And these same signes

fro the heved of Capricorne unto the ende of

Geminis ben cleped tortuose signes, or croked

signes, for thei arise embelyf on oure orisonte.

And these croked signes ben obedient to

30 the signes that ben of right ascensioun.

The signes of right ascencioun ben fro the

heved of Cancer unto the ende of Sagittarie;

and these signes arisen more upright, and thei

ben called eke sovereyn signes and everich of

hem arisith in more space than 2 houres. Of

whiche signes Gemini obeieth to Cancer, and

Taurus to Leo, Aries to Virgo, Pisces to Libra,

Aquarius to Scorpioun, and Capricorne to Sagittarie.

And thus evermore 2 signes that

40 ben ilike fer fro the heved of Capricorne

obeyen everich of hem to othir.

Rub To knowe justly the 4 quarters of the

RubA world, as Est, West, North, and South.

Tak the altitude of thy sonne whan the list,

and note wel the quarter of the world in which

the sonne is for the tyme by the azymutz.

Turne than thin Astrelabie, and set the degre

of the sonne in the almykanteras of his altitude

on thilke syde that the sonne stant, as is the

manere in takyng of houres, and ley thy label

on the degre of the sonne; and rekene how

many degrees of the bordure ben bitwixe

10 the lyne meridional and the point of thy

label, and note wel that nombre. Turne

than ageyn thin Astrelabie, and set the point

of thy gret rule there thou takist thin altitudes

upon as many degrees in his bordure fro his

meridional as was the point of thy label fro

the lyne meridional on the wombe side. Take

than thin Astrelabie with bothe hondes sadly

and slighly, and let the sonne shyne thorugh

bothe holes of thy rule, and slighly in thilke

20 shynyng lat thin Astrelabie kouche adoun

evene upon a smothe ground, and than wol

the verrey lyne meridional of thin Astrelabie

lye evene south, and the est lyne wol lye est,

and the west lyne west, and the north lyne

north, so that thou worke softly and avysely

in the kouching. And thus hast thou the 4

quarters of the firmament.

Rub To knowe the latitude of planetes fro

RubA the wey of the sonne, whethir so they be north

RubB or south fro the forseide wey.

Loke whan that a planete is in the lyne

meridional, yf that hir altitude be of the same

height that is the degre of the sonne for that

day, and than is the planete in the verrey wey

of the sonne and hath no latitude. And if the

altitude of the planete be heigher than the

degre of the sonne, than is the planete north

fro the wey of the sonne such a quantite of

latitude as shewith by thin almykanteras.

10 And if the altitude of the planete be lasse

than the degre of the sonne, than is the

planete south fro the wey of the sonne such

a quantite of latitude as shewith by thin

almykanteras. This is to seyn, fro the wey

where as the sonne went thilke day, but not

fro the wey of the sonne in every place of the

zodiak.

Rub To knowe the cenyth of the arising of

RubA the sonne, this is to seyn, the partie of the

RubB orisonte in which that the sonne arisith.

Thou must first considere that the sonne arisith

not alwey verrey est, but somtyme by northe

the est and somtyme by south the est. Sothly

the sonne arisith nevere moo verrey est in oure

orisonte, but he be in the heved of Aries or

Libra. Now is thin orisonte departed in 24 parties

by thin azimutes in significacioun of 24 parties

of the world; al be it so that shipmen rekene

thilke parties in 32. Than is there no

10 more but wayte in which azimut that thy

sonne entrith at his arisyng, and take there

the cenith of the arisyng of the sonne.

The manere of the divisioun of thin Astrelabie

is this, I mene as in this cas: First

it is divided in 4 plages principalis with the

lyne that goth from est to west; and than with

another lyne that goth fro south to north; than

is it divided in smale parties of azymutz, as est,

and est by south, where as is the first azymut

20 above the est lyne; and so furth fro

partie to partie til that thou come ageyn

unto the est lyne. Thus maist thou understonde

also the cenyth of eny sterre, in which partie

he riseth.

Rub To knowe in which partie of the firmament

RubA is the conjunccyoun.

Considere the tyme of the conjunccyoun by

the kalender, as thus: Loke hou many houres

thilke conjunccioun is fro the midday of the

day precedent, as shewith by the canon of

thy kalender. Rekene than thilke nombre of

houres in the bordure of thin Astrelabie, as

thou art wont to do in knowyng of the houres

of the day or of the nyght, and ley thy label

over the degre of the sonne, and than wol

10 the point of thy label sitte upon the houre

of the conjunccioun. Loke than in which

azymut the degre of thy sonne sittith, and in

that partie of the firmament is the conjunccioun.

Rub To knowe the cenyth of the altitude of

RubA the sonne.

This is no more to seyn but eny tyme of

the day tak the altitude of the sonne, and by

the azymut in which he stondith maist thou

seen in which partie of the firmament he is.

And the same wise maist thou seen by night,

of eny sterre, wheither the sterre sitte est or

west, or north or south, or eny partie bitwene,

after the name of the azimut in which is the

sterre.

Rub To knowe sothly the degre of the longitude

RubA of the mone, or of eny planete that hath

RubB no latitude for the tyme fro the ecliptik lyne.

Tak the altitude of the mone, and rekne thy

altitude up among thyn almykanteras on

which syde that the mone stondith, and set

there a prikke. Tak than anon-right upon the

mones syde the altitude of eny sterre fix which

that thou knowist, and set his centre upon his

altitude among thyn almykanteras there the

sterre is founde. Wayte than which degre of

the zodiak touchith the prykke of the altitude

10 of the mone, and tak there the degre

in which the mone stondith. This conclusioun

is verrey soth, yf the sterres in thin

Astrelabie stonden after the trouthe. Comoun

tretes of the Astrelabie ne maken non excepcioun

whether the mone have latitude or

noon, ne on wheyther syde of the mone the

altitude of the sterre fixe be taken.

And nota that yf the mone shewe himself

by light of day, than maist thou worche

20 this same conclusioun by the sonne, as wel

as by the fixe sterre.

Rub This is the worchinge of the conclusioun

RubA to knowe yf that eny planete be direct

RubB or retrograd.

Tak the altitude of eny sterre that is clepid

a planete, and note it wel; and tak eke anon

the altitude of any sterre fix that thou knowist,

and note it wel also. Com than ageyn the

thridde or the fourthe nyght next folewing, for

than shalt thou perceyve wel the moeving of

a planete, wheither so he moeve forward or

bakward. Awayte wel than whan that thy

sterre fixe is in the same altitude that she

10 was whan thou toke hir firste altitude.

And tak than eft-sones the altitude of the

forseide planete and note it wel; for truste wel

yf so be that the planete be on the right syde

of the meridional lyne, so that his secunde altitude

be lasse than hys first altitude was, than

is the planete direct; and yf he be on the west

syde in that condicioun, than is he retrograd.

And yf so be that this planete be upon the est

side whan his altitude is ytaken, so that his

20 secunde altitude be more than his first altitude,

than is he retrograd. And if he be on

the west syde, than is he direct. But the contrarie

of these parties is of the cours of the

mone; for certis the mone moeveth the contrarie

from othre planetes as in hir epicicle, but

in noon othir manere.

Rub The conclusioun of equaciouns of

RubA houses after the Astrelabie.

Set the begynnyng of the degre that ascendith

upon the ende of the 8 houre inequal; than

wol the begynnyng of the 2 hous sitte upon

the lyne of mydnight. Remeve than the degre

that ascendith, and set him on the ende of the

10 houre inequal, and than wol the begynnyng

of the 3 hous sitte up on the mydnight lyne.

Bring up ageyn the same degre that ascended

first, and set him upon the est orisonte, and

10 than wol the begynnyng of the 4 hous sitte

upon the lyne of mydnight. Tak than the

nader of the degre that first ascendid, and set

him on the ende of the 2 houre inequal; and

than wol the begynnyng of the 5 hous sitte

upon the lyne of mydnight. Set than the nader

of the ascendent on the ende of the 4 houre

inequal, and than wol the begynnyng of the

6 hous sitte on the mydnight lyne. The begynnyng

of the 7 hous is nader of the ascendent,

20 and the begynnyng of the 8 hous

is nader of the 2, and the begynnyng

of the 9 hous is nader of the 3, and the begynnyng

of the 10 hous is nader of the 4,

and the begynnyng of the 11 hous is nader

of the 5, and the begynnyng of the 12 hous

is nader of the 6.

Rub Another maner of equaciouns of houses

RubA by the Astrelabye.

Tak thin ascendent, and than hast thou thy

4 angles; for wel thou wost that the opposit

of thin ascendent, that is to seyn, the begynnyng

of the 7 hous, sitt upon the west orisonte,

and the begynnyng of the 10 hous sitt upon

the lyne meridional, and his opposyt upon the

lyne of mydnight. Than ley thy label over the

degre that ascendith, and rekne fro the point

of thy label alle the degrees in the bordure

10 tyl thou come to the meridional lyne; and

departe alle thilke degrees in 3 evene parties,

and take there the evene equacions of 3

houses; for ley thy label over everich of these

3 parties, and than maist thou se by thy label,

in the zodiak, the begynnyng of everich

of these same houses fro the ascendent; that

is to seyn, the begynnyng of the 12 hous next

above thin ascendent, the begynnyng of the

11 hous, and than the 10 upon the meridional

20 lyne, as I first seide. The same wise

worch thou fro the ascendent doun to the

lyne of mydnyght, and thus hast thou othre

3 houses; that is to seyn, the begynnyng of

the 2, and the 3, and the 4 hous. Than is the

nader of these 3 houses the begynnyng of the

3 houses that folewen.

Rub To fynde the lyne meridional to dwelle

RubA fix in eny certeyn place.

Tak a round plate of metal; for werpyng,

the brodder the better; and make there upon

a just compas a lite within the bordure. And

ley this rounde plate upon an evene ground,

or on an evene ston, or on an evene stok fix

in the ground; and ley it evene by a level.

And in the centre of the compas styke an

evene pyn, or a wyr, upright, the smaller the

better; set thy pyn by a plom-rule evene

10 upright, and let this pyn be no lenger than

a quarter of the dyametre of thy compas,

fro the centre amiddes. And wayte bisely

aboute 10 or 11 of the clokke, whan the sonne

shineth, whan the shadewe of the pyn entrith

enythyng within the cercle of thy compas an

heer-mele; and marke there a pricke with inke.

Abid than stille waityng on the sonne til after

1 of the clokke, til that the shadwe of the wyr,

or of the pyn, passe enything out of the

20 cercle of the compas, be it nevere so lyte,

and set there another pricke of ynke. Tak

than a compas, and mesure evene the myddel

bitwixe bothe prickes, and set there a prikke.

Tak me than a rule and draw a strike evene

a-lyne, fro the pyn unto the middel prikke; and

tak there thi lyne meridional for evermore, as

in that same place. And yif thou drawe a

cross-lyne overthwart the compas justly over

the lyne meridional, than hast thou est and

30 west and south, and par consequens,

the opposit of the south lyne, i.e. the north.

Rub Descripcion of the meridional lyne, of

RubA longitudes and latitudes of citees and townes,

RubB as wel as of climates.

Thys lyne meridional is but a maner descripcioun,

or lyne ymagined, that passith upon the

poles of this world and by the cenyth of oure

heved. And it is cleped the lyne meridional,

for in what place that eny man is at any tyme

of the yer, whan that the sonne, by mevynge

of the firmament, cometh to his verrey meridian

place, than is it verrey mydday, that we clepen

oure non, as to thilke man. And therfore

10 is it clepid the lyne of midday. And nota

that evermore of eny 2 cytes or of 2 townes,

of which that oo town approchith ner toward

the est than doth that othir town, trust

wel that thilke townes han diverse meridians.

Nota also that the arch of the equinoxial that

is contened or bownded bitwixe the 2 meridians

is clepid the longitude of the toun. And

yf so be that two townes have ilike meridian

or oon meridian, than is the distaunce of

20 hem bothe ilike fer fro the est, and the contrarie;

and in this manere thei change not

her meridian. But sothly thei chaungen her

almykanteras, for the enhaunsyng of the pool

and the distance of the sonne.

The longitude of a climat is a lyne ymagined

fro est to west ilike distant fro the equinoxiall.

And the latitude of a climat may be

cleped the space of the erthe fro the begynnyng

of the first clymat unto the verrey

30 ende of the same clymat evene direct

ageyns the pool artyke. Thus sayn somme

auctours; and somme of hem sayn that yf men

clepe the latitude of a cuntrey the arch meridian

that is contened or intercept bitwix the

cenyth and the equinoxial, than say they that

the distance fro the equinoxial unto the ende

of a clymat evene ageynst the pool artik is the

latitude of a clymat forsoothe.

Rub To knowe with which degre of the zodiak

RubA that eny planete ascendith on the orisonte,

RubB wheither so that his latitude be north

RubC or south.

Know by thin almenak the degre of the

ecliptik of eny signe in which that the planete

is rekned for to be, and that is clepid the

degre of his longitude. And know also the

degre of his latitude fro the ecliptik north or

south. And by these ensamples folewynge in

speciall maist thou worche in general in every

signe of the zodiak:

The degree of the longitude peraventure

10 of Venus or of another planete was 1 of

Capricorne, and the latitude of him was

northward 4 degrees fro the ecliptik lyne. Than

tok I a subtil compas, and clepid that oo point

of my compas A, and that other point F. Than

tok I the point of A and sette it in the ecliptik

lyne in my zodiak in the degre of the longitude

of Venus, that is to seyn, in the 1 degre

of Capricorne; and than sette I the point of

F upward in the same signe by cause that

20 latitude was north upon the latitude of

Venus, that is to seyn, in the 4 degre fro the

heved of Capricorne; and thus have I 4 degrees

bitwixe my two prickes. Than leide I down

softly my compas, and sette the degre of the

longitude upon the orisonte; tho tok I and

waxed my label in manere of a peire tables to

receyve distinctly the prickes of my compas.

Tho tok I thys forseide label, and leyde it fix

over the degre of my longitude; tho tok I

30 up my compas and sette the point of A in

the wax on my label, as evene as I koude

gesse, over the ecliptik lyne in the ende of the

longitude, and sette the point of F endelong

in my label upon the space of the latitude,

inward and over the zodiak, that is to seyn

northward fro the ecliptik. Than leide I doun

my compas, and loked wel in the wey upon

the prickes of A and of F; tho turned I my ryet

til that the pricke of F satt upon the orisonte;

40 than saw I wel that the body of

Venus in hir latitude of 4 degrees septemtrionals

ascendid, in the ende of the 8 degre,

fro the heved of Capricorne.

And nota that in this manere maist thou

worche with any latitude septemtrional in alle

signes. But sothly the latitude meridional of

a planete in Capricorne ne may not be take by

cause of the litel space bitwixe the ecliptyk

and the bordure of the Astrelabie; but

50 sothely in all othre signes it may.

Also the degre peraventure of Jupiter, or of

another planete, was in the first degre of Piscis

in longitude, and his latitude was 2 degrees

meridional; tho tok I the point of A and sette

it in the first degre of Piscis on the ecliptik;

and than sette I the point of F dounward in

the same signe by cause that the latitude was

south 2 degres, that is to seyn, fro the heved

of Piscis; and thus have I 2 degres bitwixe

60 bothe prikkes. Than sette I the degre of

the longitude upon the orisonte; tho tok I

my label, and leide it fix upon the degre of the

longitude; tho sette I the point of A on my

label evene over the ecliptik lyne in the ende

of the degre of the longitude, and sette the

point of F endlong in my label the space of

2 degres of the latitude outward fro the zodiak

(this is to seyn southward fro the ecliptik toward

the bordure), and turned my riet

70 til that the pricke of F saat upon the orisonte.

Than say I wel that the body of

Jupiter in his latitude of 2 degrees meridional

ascendid with 8 degres of Piscis in horoscopo.

And in this manere maist thou worche with

any latitude meridional, as I first seide, save in

Capricorne. And yif thou wilt pleye this craft

with the arisyng of the mone, loke thou rekne

wel hir cours houre by houre, for she ne dwellith

not in a degre of hir longitude but litel

80 while, as thow wel knowist. But natheles

yf thou rekne hir verrey moevyng by thy

tables houre after houre, [thou shalt do wel

ynow].

Rub Umbra Recta.

Yif it so be that thou wilt werke by umbra

recta, and thou may come to the bas of the

tour, in this maner shalt thou werke. Tak the

altitude of the tour by bothe holes, so that

thy rewle ligge even in a poynt. Ensample as

thus: I see him thorw at the poynt of 4; than

mete I the space betwixe me and the tour,

and I finde it 20 foot; than beholde I how 4

is to 12, right so is the space betwixe thee

110 and the tour to the altitude of the tour.

For 4 is the thridde part of 12, so is the

space between thee and the tour the thridde

part of the altitude of the tour; than thryes 20

foot is the heyghte of the tour, with adding of

thyn owne persone to thyn eye. And this rewle

is general in umbra recta, fro the poynt of

oon to 12. And yif thy rewle falle upon 5, than

is 5 12-partyes of the heyght the space between

thee and the tour; with adding of

120 thyn owne heyghte.

Rub Umbra Versa.

Another maner of the werkinge, by umbra

versa. Yif so be that thou may nat come to

the bas of the tour, I see him thorw at the nombre

of 1; I sette ther a prikke at my fot; than

go I neer to the tour, and I see him thorw at

the poynt of 2, and there I sette another prikke;

and I beholde how 1 hath him to 12, and ther

finde I that it hath him twelfe sythes; than

beholde I how 2 hath him to 12, and thou

110 shalt finde it sexe sythes; than thou shalt

finde that 12 passith 6 by the numbre of

6; right so is the space between thy two prikkes

the space of 6 tymes thyn altitude. And note,

that at the ferste altitude of 1, thou settest a

prikke; and afterward, whan thou seest him at

2, ther thou settest another prikke; than thou

findest betwyx thes two prikkys 60 foot; than

thou shalt finde that 10 is the 6-party of 60.

And then is 10 feet the altitude of the tour.

120 For other poyntis, yif it fille in umbra versa,

as thus: I sette caas it fill upon 2, and at

the secunde upon 3; than schalt thou finde

that 2 is 6 partyes of 12; and 3 is 4 partyes of

12; than passeth 6 4, by nombre of 2; so is the

space between two prikkes twyes the heyghte

of the tour. And yif the differens were thryes,

than shulde it be three tymes; and thus mayst

thou werke fro 1 to 12; and yif it be 4, 4 tymes;

or 5, 5 tymes; et sic de ceteris.

Rub Umbra Recta.

Another maner of wyrking, by umbra recta:

Yif it so be that thou mayst nat come to the

baas of the tour, in this maner thou schalt

werke. Set thy rewle upon 1 till thou see the

altitude, and set at thy foot a prikke. Than

set thy rewle upon 2, and behold what is the

differense between 1 and 2, and thou shalt

finde that it is 1. Than mete the space between

two prikkes, and that is the 12 partie

10 of the altitude of the tour. And yif ther

were 2, it were the 6 partye; and yif ther

were 3, the 4 partye; et sic deinceps. And

note, yif it were 5, it were the 5 party of 12;

and 7, 7 party of 12; and note, at the altitude

of thy conclusion, adde the stature of thyn

heyghte to thyn eye.

Rub Another maner conclusion, to knowe

RubA the mene mote and the argumentis of any

RubB planete. To know the mene mote and the argumentis

RubC of every planete fro yeer to yeer, from

RubD day to day, from houre to houre, and from

RubE smale fraccionis infinite.

In this maner shalt thou worche; consider

thy rote first, the whiche is made the beginning

of the tables fro the yer of oure Lord

1397, and enter hit into thy slate for the laste

meridie of December; and than consider the

yer of oure Lord, what is the date, and behold

whether thy date be more or lasse than the

yer 1397. And yf hit so be that hit be more,

loke how many yeres hit passeth, and with

10 so many enter into thy tables in the first

lyne theras is writen anni collecti et expansi.

And loke where the same planet is

writen in the hed of thy table, and than loke

what thou findest in direct of the same yer of

oure Lord which is passid, be hit 8, or 9, or

10, or what nombre that evere it be, til the

tyme that thou come to 20, or 40, or 60. And

that thou findest in direct wryt in thy slate under

thy rote, and adde hit togeder, and that is

20 thy mene mote, for the laste meridian of

the December, for the same yer which that

thou hast purposed. And if hit so be that hit

passe 20, consider wel that fro 1 to 20 ben

anni expansi, and fro 20 to 3000 ben anni collecti;

and if thy nomber passe 20, than tak that

thou findest in direct of 20, and if hit be more,

as 6 or 18, than tak that thou findest in direct

thereof, that is to sayen, signes, degrees, minutes,

and secoundes, and adde togedere

30 unto thy rote; and thus to make rotes. And

note, that if hit so be that the yer of oure

Lord be lasse than the rote, which is the yer

of oure Lord 1397, than shalt thou wryte in

the same wyse first thy rote in thy slate, and

after enter into thy table in the same yer that

be lasse, as I taught before; and than consider

how many signes, degrees, minutes, and secoundes

thyn entringe conteyneth. And so be

that ther be 2 entrees, than adde hem togeder,

40 and after withdraw hem from the

rote, the yer of oure Lord 1397; and the

residue that leveth is thy mene mote for the

laste meridie of December, the whiche thou

hast purposid; and if hit so be that thou wolt

witen thy mene mote for any day, or for any

fraccioun of day, in this maner thou shalt

worche. Make thy rote fro the laste day of

December in the maner as I have taught,

and afterward behold how many monethes,

50 dayes, and houres ben passid from the

meridie of December, and with that enter

with the laste moneth that is ful passed, and

take that thou findest in direct of him, and

wryt hit in thy slate; and enter with as mony

dayes as be more, and wryt that thou findest

in direct of the same planete that thou worchest

for; and in the same wyse in the table of

houres, for houres that ben passed, and adde

alle these to thy rote; and the residue is the

60 mene mote for the same day and the same

houre.

Rub Another manere to knowe the mene

RubA mote.

Whan thou wolt make the mene mote of eny

planete to be by Arsechieles tables, tak thy

rote, the which is for the yer of oure Lord

1397; and if so be that thy yer be passid the

date, wryt that date, and than wryt the nomber

of the yeres. Than withdraw the yeres

out of the yeres that ben passed that rote.

Ensampul as thus: the yer of oure Lord 1400,

I wolde wyten, precise, my rote; than wrot

10 I first 1400. And under that nomber I

wrot a 1397; than withdrow I the laste

nomber out of that, and than fond I the residue

was 3 yer; I wiste that 3 yer was passed

fro the rote, the which was writen in my

tables. Than afterward soghte I in my tables

the annis collectis et expansis, and among myn

expanse yeres fond I 3 yeer. Than tok I alle

the signes, degrees, and minutes, that I fond

direct under the same planete that I

20 wroghte for, and wrot so many signes,

degrees, and minutes in my slate, and afterward

added I to signes, degrees, minutes, and

secoundes, the whiche I fond in my rote the

yer of oure Lord 1397; and kepte the residue;

and than had I the mene mote for the laste

day of December. And if thou woldest wete

the mene mote of any planete in March, April,

or May, other in any other tyme or moneth of

the yer, loke how many monethes and

30 dayes ben passed from the laste day of December,

the yer of oure Lord 1400; and so

with monethis and dayes enter into thy table

ther thou findest thy mene mote iwriten in

monethes and dayes, and tak alle the signes,

degrees, minutes, and secoundes that thou findest

ywrite in direct of thy monethes, and adde

to signes, degrees, minutes, and secoundes that

thou findest with thy rote the yer of oure

Lord 1400, and the residue that leveth is the

40 mene mote for that same day. And note,

if hit so be that thou woldest wite the mene

mote in any yer that is lasse than thy rote,

withdraw the nomber of so many yeres as hit

is lasse than the yer of oure Lord a 1397, and

kep the residue; and so many yeres, monethes,

and dayes enter into thy tables of thy mene

mote. And tak alle the signes, degrees, and

minutes, and secoundes, that thou findest in

direct of alle the yeres, monethes, and

50 dayes, and wryt hem in thy slate; and

above thilke nomber wryt the signes, degrees,

minutes, and secoundes, the which thou

findest with thy rote the yer of oure Lord a

1397; and withdraw alle the nethere signes

and degrees fro the signes and degrees, minutes,

and secoundes of other signes with thy

rote; and thy residue that leveth is thy mene

mote for that day.

Rub For to knowe at what houre of the day,

RubA or of the night, shal be flod or ebbe.

First wite thou certeinly, hou that haven

stondeth, that thou list to werke for; that is

to say in which place of the firmament the

mone beyng, makith full see. Than awayte

thou redily in what degree of the zodiak that

the mone at that tyme is ynne. Bring furth

than the label, and set the point therof in

that same cost that the mone makith flod, and

set thou there the degree of the mone according

10 with the egge of the label. Than

afterward awayte where is than the degree

of the sonne, at that tyme. Remeve thou than

the label fro the mone, and bring and set it

justly upon the degree of the sonne. And the

point of the label shal than declare to thee, at

what houre of the day or of the night shal

be flod. And there also maist thou wite by the

same point of the label, whethir it be, at that

same tyme, flod or ebbe, or half flod, or

20 quarter flod, or ebbe, or half or quarter

ebbe; or ellis at what houre it was last, or

shal be next by night or by day, thou than

shalt esely knowe, &c. Furthermore, if it so

be that thou happe to worke for this matere

aboute the tyme of the conjunccioun, bring

furth the degree of the mone with the label

to that coste as it is before seyd. But than thou

shalt understonde that thou may not bringe

furth the label fro the degree of the mone

30 as thou dide before; for-why the sonne is

than in the same degree with the mone.

And so thou may at that tyme by the point of

the label unremevid knowe the houre of the

flod or of the ebbe, as it is before seyd, &c.

And evermore as thou findest the mone passe

fro the sonne, so remeve thou the label than

fro the degree of the mone, and bring it to

the degree of the sonne. And work thou than

as thou dide before, &c. Or ellis know

40 thou what houre it is that thou art inne,

by thyn instrument. Than bring thou furth

fro thennes the label and ley it upon the degree

of the mone, and therby may thou wite

also whan it was flod, or whan it wol be next,

be it night or day; etc.

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

FRAGMENT A

Many men sayn that in sweveninges

Ther nys but fables and lesynges;

But men may some sweven[es] sen

Whiche hardely that false ne ben,

But afterward ben apparaunt.

This may I drawe to warraunt

An authour that hight Macrobes,

That halt nat dremes false ne lees,

But undoth us the avysioun

10 That whilom mette kyng Cipioun.

And whoso saith or weneth it be

A jape, or elles nycete,

To wene that dremes after falle,

Let whoso lyste a fol me calle.

For this trowe I, and say for me,

That dremes signifiaunce be

Of good and harm to many wightes

That dremen in her slep a-nyghtes

Ful many thynges covertly

20 That fallen after al openly.

Within my twenty yer of age,

Whan that Love taketh his cariage

Of yonge folk, I wente soone

To bedde, as I was wont to done,

And faste I slepte; and in slepyng

Me mette such a swevenyng

That lyked me wonders wel.

But in that sweven is never a del

That it nys afterward befalle,

30 Ryght as this drem wol tel us alle.

Now this drem wol I ryme aright

To make your hertes gaye and lyght,

For Love it prayeth, and also

Commaundeth me that it be so.

And if there any aske me,

Whether that it be he or she,

How this book, which is here,

Shal hatte, that I rede you here:

It is the Romance of the Rose,

40 In which al the art of love I close.

The mater fayre is of to make;

God graunt me in gree that she it take

For whom that it begonnen is.

And that is she that hath, ywis,

So mochel pris, and therto she

So worthy is biloved to be,

That she wel ought, of pris and ryght,

Be cleped Rose of every wight.

That it was May me thoughte tho

50 It is fyve yer or more ago

That it was May, thus dremed me,

In tyme of love and jolite,

That al thing gynneth waxen gay,

For ther is neither busk nor hay

In May that it nyl shrouded ben

And it with newe leves wren.

These wodes eek recoveren grene,

That drie in wynter ben to sene,

And the erthe wexith proud withalle,

60 For swote dewes that on it falle,

And the pore estat forget

In which that wynter had it set.

And than bycometh the ground so proud

That it wole have a newe shroud,

And makith so queynt his robe and faire

That it hath hewes an hundred payre

Of gras and flouris, ynde and pers,

And many hewes ful dyvers

That is the robe I mene, iwys,

70 Through which the ground to preisen is.

The briddes that haven left her song,

While thei suffride cold so strong,

In wedres gryl and derk to sighte,

Ben in May for the sonne brighte

So glade that they shewe in syngyng

That in her hertis is sich lykyng

That they mote syngen and be light.

Than doth the nyghtyngale hir myght

To make noyse and syngen blythe,

80 Than is blisful many sithe

The chelaundre and papyngay,

Than yonge folk entenden ay

Forto ben gay and amorous

The tyme is than so saverous.

Hard is the hert that loveth nought

In May whan al this mirth is wrought,

Whan he may on these braunches here

The smale briddes syngen clere

Her blisful swete song pitous.

90 And in this sesoun delytous,

Whan love affraieth alle thing,

Me thought a-nyght in my sleping,

Right in my bed, ful redily,

That it was by the morowe erly,

And up I roos and gan me clothe.

Anoon I wissh myn hondis bothe.

A sylvre nedle forth I drough

Out of an aguler queynt ynough,

And gan this nedle threde anon,

100 For out of toun me list to gon

The song of briddes forto here

That in thise buskes syngen clere.

And in [the] swete seson that leef is,

With a thred bastyng my slevis,

Alone I wente in my plaiyng,

The smale foules song harknyng.

They peyned hem, ful many peyre,

To synge on bowes blosmed feyre.

Joly and gay, ful of gladnesse,

110 Toward a ryver gan I me dresse

That I herd renne faste by,

For fairer plaiyng non saugh I

Than playen me by that ryver.

For from an hill that stood ther ner

Cam doun the strem ful stif and bold.

Cleer was the water, and as cold

As any welle is, soth to seyne,

And somdel lasse it was than Seyne,

But it was strayghter wel away.

120 And never saugh I, er that day,

The watir that so wel lyked me,

And wondir glad was I to se

That lusty place and that ryver.

And with that watir, that ran so cler,

My face I wyssh. Tho saugh I well

The botme paved everydell

With gravel, ful of stones shene.

The medewe softe, swote, and grene,

Beet right on the watir syde.

130 Ful cler was than the morowtyde,

And ful attempre, out of drede.

Tho gan I walke thorough the mede,

Dounward ay in my pleiyng,

The ryver syde costeiyng.

And whan I had a while goon,

I saugh a gardyn right anoon,

Ful long and brood, and everydell

Enclosed was, and walled well

With highe walles enbatailled,

140 Portraied without and wel entailled

With many riche portraitures.

And bothe the ymages and the peyntures

Gan I biholde bysyly,

And I wole telle you redyly

Of thilk ymages the semblaunce,

As fer as I have in remembraunce.

Amydde saugh I Hate stonde,

That for hir wrathe, yre, and onde,

Semede to ben a mynoresse,

150 An angry wight, a chideresse;

And ful of gyle and fel corage,

By semblaunt, was that ilk ymage.

And she was nothyng wel arraied,

But lyk a wod womman afraied.

Frounced foule was hir visage,

And grennyng for dispitous rage,

Hir nose snorted up for tene.

Ful hidous was she for to sene,

Ful foul and rusty was she, this.

160 Hir heed writhen was, ywis,

Ful grymly with a greet towayle.

An ymage of another entayle

A lyft half was hir faste by.

Hir name above hir heed saugh I,

And she was called Felonye.

Another ymage that Vilanye

Clepid was saugh I and fond

Upon the wal on hir right hond.

Vilany was lyk somdell

170 That other ymage, and, trustith wel,

She semede a wikked creature.

By countenaunce in portrayture

She semed be ful dispitous,

And eek ful proud and outragious.

Wel coude he peynte, I undirtake,

That sich ymage coude make.

Ful foul and cherlyssh semed she,

And eek vylayneus for to be,

And litel coude of norture

180 To worshipe any creature.

And next was peynted Coveitise,

That eggith folk in many gise

To take and yeve right nought ageyn,

And gret tresouris up to leyn.

And that is she that for usure

Leneth to many a creature

The lasse for the more wynnyng,

So coveitous is her brennyng.

And that is she that penyes fele

190 Techith for to robbe and stele

These theves and these smale harlotes;

And that is routh, for by her throtes

Ful many oon hangith at the laste.

She makith folk compasse and caste

To taken other folkis thyng

Thorough robberie or myscounting.

And that is she that makith trechoures,

And she makith false pleadoures

That with hir termes and hir domes

200 Doon maydens, children, and eek gromes

Her heritage to forgo.

Ful croked were hir hondis two,

For Coveitise is evere wod

To gripen other folkis god.

Coveityse, for hir wynnyng,

Ful leef hath other mennes thing.

Another ymage set saugh I

Next Coveitise faste by,

And she was clepid Avarice.

210 Ful foul in peyntyng was that vice;

Ful fade and caytif was she eek,

And also grene as ony leek.

So yvel hewed was hir colour,

Hir semed to have lyved in langour.

She was lyk thyng for hungre deed,

That ladde hir lyf oonly by breed

Kneden with eisel strong and egre,

And therto she was lene and megre.

And she was clad ful porely

220 Al in an old torn courtepy,

As she were al with doggis torn;

And bothe bihynde and eke biforn

Clouted was she beggarly.

A mantyl heng hir faste by,

Upon a perche, weik and small;

A burnet cote heng therwithall

Furred with no menyver,

But with a furre rough of her,

Of lambe-skynnes hevy and blake.

230 It was ful old, I undirtake,

For Avarice to clothe hir well

Ne hastith hir never a dell.

For certeynly it were hir loth

To weren ofte that ilke cloth,

And if it were forwered, she

Wolde have ful gret necessite

Of clothyng er she bought hir newe,

Al were it bad of woll and hewe.

This Avarice hild in hir hand

240 A purs that heng by a band,

And that she hidde and bond so stronge,

Men must abyde wondir longe

Out of that purs er ther come ought.

For that ne cometh not in hir thought;

It was not, certein, hir entente

That fro that purs a peny wente.

And by that ymage, nygh ynough,

Was peynted Envye, that never lough

Nor never wel in hir herte ferde

250 But if she outher saugh or herde

Som gret myschaunce or gret disese.

Nothyng may so moch hir plese

As myschef and mysaventure,

Or whan she seeth discomfiture

Upon ony worthy man falle,

Than likith hir wel withalle.

She is ful glad in hir corage,

If she se any gret lynage

Be brought to nought in shamful wise.

260 And if a man in honour rise,

Or by his wit or by his prowesse,

Of that hath she gret hevynesse.

For, trustith wel, she goth nygh wod

Whan any chaunce happith god.

Envie is of such crueltee

That feith ne trouthe holdith she

To freend ne felawe, bad or good.

Ne she hath kyn noon of hir blood,

That she nys ful her enemy;

270 She nolde, I dar seyn hardely,

Hir owne fadir ferde well.

And sore abieth she everydell

Hir malice and hir maltalent,

For she is in so gret turment,

And hath such [wo] whan folk doth good

That nygh she meltith for pure wood.

Hir herte kervyth and so brekith

That God the puple wel awrekith.

Envie, iwis, shal nevere lette

280 Som blame upon the folk to sette.

I trowe that if Envie, iwis,

Knewe the beste man that is

On this side or biyonde the see,

Yit somwhat lakken hym wolde she;

And if he were so hende and wis

That she ne myght al abate his pris,

Yit wolde she blame his worthynesse

Or by hir wordis make it lesse.

I saugh Envie in that peyntyng

290 Hadde a wondirful lokyng,

For she ne lokide but awry

Or overthwart, all baggyngly.

And she hadde a [foul] usage:

She myght loke in no visage

Of man or womman forth-right pleyn,

But shette hir [oon] eie for disdeyn.

So for envie brenned she

Whan she myght any man se

That fair or worthi were, or wis,

300 Or elles stod in folkis prys.

Sorowe was peynted next Envie

Upon that wall of masonrye.

But wel was seyn in hir colour

That she hadde lyved in langour;

Hir semede to have the jaunyce.

Nought half so pale was Avarice,

Nor nothyng lyk of lenesse;

For sorowe, thought, and gret distresse,

That she hadde suffred day and nyght,

310 Made hir ful yelow and nothyng bright,

Ful fade, pale, and megre also.

Was never wight yit half so wo

As that hir semede for to be,

Nor so fulfilled of ire as she.

I trowe that no wight myght hir please

Nor do that thyng that myght hir ease;

Nor she ne wolde hir sorowe slake,

Nor comfort noon unto hir take,

So depe was hir wo bigonnen,

320 And eek hir hert in angre ronnen.

A sorowful thyng wel semed she,

Nor she hadde nothyng slowe be

For to forcracchen al hir face,

And for to rent in many place

Hir clothis, and for to tere hir swire,

As she that was fulfilled of ire.

And al totorn lay eek hir her

Aboute hir shuldris here and ther,

As she that hadde it al torent

330 For angre and for maltalent.

And eek I telle you certeynly

How that she wep ful tendirly.

In world nys wight so hard of herte

That hadde sen her sorowes smerte,

That nolde have had of her pyte,

So wo-begon a thyng was she.

She al todassht herself for woo

And smot togyder her hondes two.

To sorowe was she ful ententyf,

340 That woful recheles caytyf.

Her roughte lytel of playing

Or of clypping or kissyng;

For whoso sorouful is in herte,

Him luste not to play ne sterte,

Ne for to dauncen, ne to synge,

Ne may his herte in temper bringe

To make joye on even or morowe,

For joy is contrarie unto sorowe.

Elde was paynted after this,

350 That shorter was a foot, iwys,

Than she was wont in her yonghede.

Unneth herself she mighte fede.

So feble and eke so old was she

That faded was al her beaute.

Ful salowe was waxen her colour;

Her heed, for hor, was whyt as flour.

Iwys, great qualm ne were it non,

Ne synne, although her lyf were gon.

Al woxen was her body unwelde,

360 And drie and dwyned al for elde.

A foul, forwelked thyng was she,

That whylom round and softe had be.

Her eeres shoken faste withalle,

As from her heed they wolde falle;

Her face frounced and forpyned,

And bothe her hondes lorne, fordwyned.

So old she was that she ne wente

A foot, but it were by potente.

The tyme that passeth nyght and day,

370 And resteles travayleth ay,

And steleth from us so prively

That to us semeth sykerly

That it in oon poynt dwelleth ever

And certes, it ne resteth never,

But goth so faste, and passeth ay,

That ther nys man that thynke may

What tyme that now present is

(Asketh at these clerkes this),

For [er] men thynke it, redily

380 Thre tymes ben passed by

The tyme, that may not sojourne,

But goth and may never retourne,

As watir that doun renneth ay,

But never drope retourne may;

Ther may nothing as tyme endure,

Metall nor erthely creature,

For alle thing it fret and shall;

The tyme eke that chaungith all,

And all doth waxe and fostred be,

390 And alle thing distroieth he;

The tyme that eldith our auncessours,

And eldith kynges and emperours,

And that us alle shal overcomen,

Er that deth us shal have nomen;

The tyme that hath al in welde

To elden folk had maad hir elde

So ynly that, to my witing,

She myghte helpe hirsilf nothing,

But turned ageyn unto childhede.

400 She had nothing hirsilf to lede,

Ne wit ne pithe in hir hold,

More than a child of two yeer old.

But natheles, I trowe that she

Was fair sumtyme, and fresh to se,

Whan she was in hir rightful age,

But she was past al that passage,

And was a doted thing bicomen.

A furred cope on had she nomen;

Wel had she clad hirsilf and warm,

410 For cold myght elles don hir harm.

These olde folk have alwey cold;

Her kynde is sich, whan they ben old.

Another thing was don there write

That semede lyk an ipocrite,

And it was clepid Poope-Holy.

That ilk is she that pryvely

Ne spareth never a wikked dede,

Whan men of hir taken noon hede,

And maketh hir outward precious,

420 With pale visage and pitous,

And semeth a simple creature;

But ther nys no mysaventure

That she ne thenkith in hir corage.

Ful lyk to hir was that ymage,

That makid was lyk hir semblaunce.

She was ful symple of countenaunce,

And she was clothed and eke shod

As she were, for the love of God,

Yolden to relygioun,

430 Sich semede hir devocioun.

A sauter held she fast in honde,

And bisily she gan to fonde

To make many a feynt praiere

To God and to his seyntis dere.

Ne she was gay, ne fresh, ne jolyf,

But semede to be ful ententyf

To gode werkis and to faire,

And therto she had on an haire.

Ne, certis, she was fatt nothing,

440 But semed wery for fasting;

Of colour pale and deed was she.

From hir the gate ay werned be

Of paradys, that blisful place;

For sich folk maketh lene her face,

As Crist seith in his evangile,

To gete hem prys in toun a while;

And for a litel glorie veine

They lesen God and his reigne.

And alderlast of everychon

450 Was peynted Povert al aloon,

That not a peny hadde in wolde,

All though she hir clothis solde,

And though she shulde anhonged be,

For nakid as a worm was she.

And if the wedir stormy were,

For cold she shulde have deyed there.

She nadde on but a streit old sak,

And many a clout on it ther stak:

This was hir cote and hir mantell.

460 No more was there, never a dell,

To clothe hir with, I undirtake;

Gret leyser hadde she to quake.

And she was putt, that I of talke,

Fer fro these other, up in an halke.

There lurked and there coured she,

For pover thing, whereso it be,

Is shamefast and dispised ay.

Acursed may wel be that day

That povere man conceyved is.

470 For, God wot, al to selde, iwys,

Is ony povere man wel fed,

Or wel araied or [wel] cled,

Or wel biloved, in sich wise

In honour that he may arise.

Alle these thingis, well avised,

As I have you er this devysed,

With gold and asure over all

Depeynted were upon the wall.

Square was the wall, and high sumdell;

480 Enclosed and barred well,

In stede of hegge, was that gardyn;

Com nevere shepherde theryn.

Into that gardyn, wel wrought,

Whoso that me coude have brought,

By laddre or elles by degre,

It wolde wel have liked me.

For sich solas, sich joie and play,

I trowe that nevere man ne say,

As was in that place delytous.

490 The gardeyn was not daungerous

To herberwe briddes many oon.

So riche a yer[d] was never noon

Of briddes song and braunches grene;

Therynne were briddes mo, I wene,

Than ben in all the rewme of Fraunce.

Ful blisful was the accordaunce

Of swete and pitous song thei made,

For all this world it owghte glade.

And I mysilf so mery ferde,

500 Whan I her blisful songes herde,

That for an hundred pound nolde I

(If that the passage openly

Hadde be unto me free)

That I nolde entren for to se

Th' assemble God kepe it fro care!

Of briddis whiche therynne ware,

That songen thorugh her mery throtes

Daunces of love and mery notes.

Whan I thus herde foules synge,

510 I fel fast in a weymentynge

By which art or by what engyn

I myght come into that gardyn;

But way I couth. fynde noon

Into that gardyn for to goon.

Ne nought wist I if that ther were

Eyther hole or place [o-]where

By which I myght have entre.

Ne ther was noon to teche me,

For I was al aloone, iwys,

520 Ful wo and angwishus of this,

Til atte last bithought I me

That by no weye ne myght it be

That ther nas laddre or wey to passe,

Or hole, into so faire a place.

Tho gan I go a full gret pas

Envyronyng evene in compas

The closing of the square wall,

Tyl that I fond a wiket small

So shett that I ne myght in gon,

530 And other entre was ther noon.

Uppon this dore I gan to smyte,

That was fetys and so lite,

For other wey coude I not seke.

Ful long I shof, and knokkide eke,

And stood ful long and of[t] herknyng,

If that I herde ony wight comyng,

Til that [the] dore of thilk entre

A mayden curteys openyde me.

Hir heer was as yelowe of hewe

540 As ony basyn scoured newe,

Hir flesh tendre as is a chike,

With bente browis smothe and slyke.

And by mesure large were

The openyng of hir yen clere,

Hir nose of good proporcioun,

Hir yen grey as is a faucoun,

With swete breth and wel savoured,

Hir face whit and wel coloured,

With litel mouth and round to see.

550 A clove chynne eke hadde she.

Hir nekke was of good fasoun

In lengthe and gretnesse, by resoun,

Withoute bleyne, scabbe, or royne;

Fro Jerusalem unto Burgoyne

Ther nys a fairer nekke, iwys,

To fele how smothe and softe it is.

Hir throte, also whit of hewe

As snowe on braunche snowed newe.

Of body ful wel wrought was she;

560 Men neded not in no cuntre

A fairer body for to seke.

And of fyn orfrays hadde she eke

A chapelet so semly oon

Ne werede never mayde upon

And faire above that chapelet

A rose gerland had she sett.

She hadde [in honde] a gay mirrour,

And with a riche gold tressour

Hir heed was tressed queyntely,

570 Hir sleves sewid fetisly,

And for to kepe hir hondis faire

Of gloves white she had a paire.

And she hadde on a cote of grene

Of cloth of Gaunt. Withouten wene,

Wel semyde by hir apparayle

She was not wont to gret travayle,

For whan she kempt was fetisly,

And wel arayed and richely,

Thanne had she don al hir journe,

580 For merye and wel bigoon was she.

She ladde a lusty lyf in May:

She hadde no thought, by nyght ne day,

Of nothyng, but if it were oonly

To graythe hir wel and uncouthly.

Whan that this dore hadde opened me

This may[de] semely for to see,

I thanked hir as I best myghte,

And axide hir how that she highte,

And what she was I axide eke.

590 And she to me was nought unmeke,

Ne of hir answer daungerous,

But faire answerde, and seide thus:

"Lo, sir, my name is Ydelnesse;

So clepe men me, more and lesse.

Ful myghty and ful riche am I,

And that of oon thyng namely,

For I entende to nothyng

But to my joye and my pleying,

And for to kembe and tresse me.

600 Aqueynted am I and pryve

With Myrthe, lord of this gardyn,

That fro the land of Alexandryn

Made the trees hidre be fet

That in this gardyn ben set.

And whan the trees were woxen on highte,

This wall, that stant heere in thi sighte,

Dide Myrthe enclosen al aboute;

And these ymages, al withoute,

He dide hem bothe entaile and peynte,

610 That neithir ben jolyf ne queynte,

But they ben ful of sorowe and woo,

As thou hast seen a while agoo.

And ofte tyme, hym to solace,

Sir Myrthe cometh into this place,

And eke with hym cometh his meynee

That lyven in lust and jolite.

And now is Myrthe therynne to here

The briddis how they syngen clere,

The mavys and the nyghtyngale,

620 And other joly briddis smale.

And thus he walketh to solace

Hym and his folk, for swetter place

To pleyen ynne he may not fynde,

Although he sought oon in-tyl Ynde.

The alther-fairest folk to see

That in this world may founde be

Hath Mirthe with hym in his route,

That folowen hym always aboute."

Whan Ydelnesse had told al this,

630 And I hadde herkned wel, ywys,

Thanne seide I to dame Ydelnesse,

"Now, also wisly God me blesse,

Sith Myrthe, that is so faire and fre,

Is in this yerde with his meyne,

Fro thilk assemble, if I may,

Shal no man werne me to-day,

That I this nyght ne mote it see.

For wel wene I there with hym be

A fair and joly companye

640 Fulfilled of alle curtesie."

And forth, withoute wordis mo,

In at the wiket went I tho,

That Ydelnesse hadde opened me,

Into that gardyn fair to see.

And whan I was inne, iwys,

Myn herte was ful glad of this,

For wel wende I ful sikerly

Have ben in paradys erthly.

So fair it was that, trusteth wel,

650 It semede a place espirituel,

For certys, as at my devys,

Ther is no place in paradys

So good inne for to dwelle or be

As in that gardyn, thoughte me.

For there was many a bridd syngyng,

Thoroughout the yerd al thringyng;

In many places were nyghtyngales,

Alpes, fynches, and wodewales,

That in her swete song deliten

660 In thilke places as they habiten.

There myghte men see many flokkes

Of turtles and laverokkes.

Chalaundres fele sawe I there,

That wery, nygh forsongen were;

And thrustles, terins, and mavys,

That songen for to wynne hem prys,

And eke to sormounte in her song

That other briddes hem among.

By note made fair servyse

670 These briddes, that I you devise;

They songe her song as faire and wel

As angels don espirituel.

And trusteth wel, whan I hem herde,

Ful lustily and wel I ferde,

For never yitt sich melodye

Was herd of man that myghte dye.

Sich swete song was hem among

That me thought it no briddis song,

But it was wondir lyk to be

680 Song of mermaydens of the see,

That, for her syngyng is so clere,

Though we mermaydens clepe hem here

In English, as is oure usaunce,

Men clepe hem sereyns in Fraunce.

Ententif weren for to synge

These briddis, that nought unkunnynge

Were of her craft, and apprentys,

But of song sotil and wys.

And certis, whan I herde her song,

690 And saw the grene place among,

In herte I wex so wondir gay

That I was never erst, er that day,

So jolyf nor so wel bigoo,

Ne merye in herte, as I was thoo.

And than wist I and saw ful well

That Ydelnesse me served well,

That me putte in sich jolite.

Hir freend wel ought I for to be,

Sith she the dore of that gardyn

700 Hadde opened and me leten in.

From hennes forth hou that I wroughte,

I shal you tellen, as me thoughte.

First, whereof Myrthe served there,

And eke what folk there with hym were,

Withoute fable I wol discryve.

And of that gardyn eke as blyve

I wole you tellen aftir this

The faire fasoun all, ywys,

That wel wrought was for the nones.

710 I may not telle you all at ones,

But, as I may and can, I shall

By ordre tellen you it all.

Ful fair servise and eke ful swete

These briddis maden as they sete.

Layes of love, ful wel sownyng,

They songen in her jargonyng;

Summe high and summe eke lowe songe

Upon the braunches grene spronge.

The swetnesse of her melodye

720 Made al myn herte in reverye.

And whan that I hadde herd, I trowe,

These briddis syngyng on a rowe,

Than myght I not withholde me

That I ne wente inne for to see

Sir Myrthe, for my desiryng

Was hym to seen, over alle thyng,

His countenaunce and his manere

That sighte was to me ful dere.

Tho wente I forth on my right hond

730 Doun by a lytel path I fond

Of mentes full, and fenell grene,

And faste by, without wene,

Sir Myrthe I fond, and right anoon

Unto Sir Myrthe gan I goon,

There as he was hym to solace.

And with hym in that lusty place

So fair folk and so fresh had he

That whan I saw, I wondred me

Fro whennes siche folk myght come,

740 So faire they weren, alle and some;

For they were lyk, as to my sighte,

To angels that ben fethered brighte.

This folk, of which I telle you soo,

Upon a karole wenten thoo.

A lady karolede hem that hyghte

Gladnesse, [the] blissful and the lighte;

Wel coude she synge and lustyly,

Noon half so wel and semely,

And make in song sich refreynynge:

750 It sat hir wondir wel to synge.

Hir vois ful clere was and ful swete.

She was nought rude ne unmete

But couth. ynow of sich doyng

As longeth unto karolyng,

For she was wont in every place

To syngen first, folk to solace.

For syngyng moost she gaf hir to;

No craft had she so leef to do.

Tho myghtist thou karoles sen,

760 And folk daunce and mery ben,

And made many a fair tournyng

Upon the grene gras springyng.

There myghtist thou see these flowtours,

Mynstrales, and eke jogelours,

That wel to synge dide her peyne.

Somme songe songes of Loreyne,

For in Loreyn her notes bee

Full swetter than in this contre.

There was many a tymbestere,

770 And saillouris, that I dar wel swere

Couth. her craft ful parfitly.

The tymbres up ful sotilly

They caste and hente full ofte

Upon a fynger fair and softe,

That they failide never mo.

Ful fetys damyseles two,

Ryght yonge and full of semelyhede,

In kirtles and noon other wede,

And faire tressed every tresse,

780 Hadde Myrthe doon, for his noblesse,

Amydde the karole for to daunce;

But herof lieth no remembraunce,

Hou that they daunced queyntely.

That oon wolde come all pryvyly

Agayn that other, and whan they were

Togidre almost, they threwe yfere

Her mouthis so that thorough her play

It semed as they kiste alway

To dauncen well koude they the gise.

790 What shulde I more to you devyse?

Ne bede I never thennes go,

Whiles that I saw hem daunce so.

Upon the karoll wonder faste

I gan biholde, til atte laste

A lady gan me for to espie,

And she was cleped Curtesie,

The worshipfull, the debonaire

I pray to God evere falle hir faire!

Ful curteisly she called me:

800 "What do ye there, beau ser?" quod she,

"Come and, if it lyke you

To dauncen, dauncith with us now."

And I, withoute tariyng,

Wente into the karolyng.

I was abasshed never a dell,

But it to me liked right well

That Curtesie me cleped so

And bad me on the daunce go.

For if I hadde durst, certeyn

810 I wolde have karoled right fayn,

As man that was to daunce right blithe.

Thanne gan I loken ofte sithe

The shap, the bodies, and the cheres,

The countenaunce and the maneres

Of all the folk that daunced there,

And I shal telle what they were.

Ful fair was Myrthe, ful long and high;

A fairer man I nevere sigh.

As round as appil was his face,

820 Ful rody and whit in every place.

Fetys he was and wel beseye,

With metely mouth and yen greye;

His nose by mesure wrought ful right;

Crisp was his heer, and eek ful bright;

His shuldris of a large brede,

And smalish in the girdilstede.

He semed lyk a portreiture,

So noble he was of his stature,

So fair, so joly, and so fetys,

830 With lymes wrought at poynt devys,

Delyver, smert, and of gret myght;

Ne sawe thou nevere man so lyght.

Of berd unnethe hadde he nothyng,

For it was in the firste spryng.

Ful yong he was, and mery of thought,

And in samet, with briddis wrought,

And with gold beten ful fetysly,

His body was clad ful richely.

Wrought was his robe in straunge gise,

840 And al toslytered for queyntise

In many a place, lowe and hie.

And shod he was with gret maistrie,

With shoon decoped, and with laas.

By druery and by solas

His leef a rosyn chapelet

Hadde mad, and on his heed it set.

And wite ye who was his leef?

Dame Gladnesse there was hym so leef,

That syngith so wel with glad courage,

850 That from she was twelve yeer of age

She of hir love graunt hym made.

Sir Mirthe hir by the fynger hadde

Daunsyng, and she hym also;

Gret love was atwixe hem two.

Bothe were they faire and bright of hewe.

She semed lyk a rose newe

Of colour, and hir flesh so tendre

That with a brere smale and slendre

Men myght it cleve, I dar wel seyn.

860 Hir forheed, frounceles al pleyn;

Bente were hir browis two,

Hir yen greye and glad also,

That laugheden ay in hir semblaunt

First or the mouth, by covenaunt.

I not what of hir nose descryve,

So fair hath no womman alyve.

Hir heer was yelowe and clere shynyng;

I wot no lady so likyng.

Of orfrays fresh was hir gerland;

870 I, which seyen have a thousand,

Saugh never, ywys, no gerlond yitt

So wel wrought of silk as it.

And in an overgilt samit

Clad she was, by gret delit,

Of which hir leef a robe werde

The myrier she in hir herte ferde.

And next hir wente, on hir other side,

The God of Love that can devyde

Love, and as hym likith it be.

880 But he can cherles daunten, he,

And maken folkis pride fallen;

And he can wel these lordis thrallen,

And ladyes putt at lowe degre,

Whan he may hem to p[r]oude see.

This God of Love of his fasoun

Was lyk no knave ne quystroun;

His beaute gretly was to pryse.

But of his robe to devise

I drede encombred for to be;

890 For nought clad in silk was he,

But all in floures and in flourettes,

And with losenges and scochouns,

With briddes, lybardes, and lyouns,

And other beestis wrought ful well.

His garnement was everydell

Portreied and wrought with floures,

By dyvers medlyng of coloures.

Floures there were of many gise

900 Sett by compas in assise.

Ther lakkide no flour, to my dom,

Ne nought so mych as flour of brom,

Ne violete, ne eke pervynke,

Ne flour noon that man can on thynke;

And many a rose-leef ful long

Was entermedled theramong.

And also on his heed was set

Of roses reed a chapelett,

But nyghtyngales, a ful gret route,

910 That flyen over his heed aboute,

The leeves felden as they flyen.

And he was all with briddes wryen,

With popynjay, with nyghtyngale,

With chalaundre, and with wodewale,

With fynch, with lark, and with archaungell.

He semede as he were an aungell

That doun were comen fro hevene cler.

Love hadde with hym a bacheler

That he made alweyes with hym be;

920 Swete-Lokyng cleped was he.

This bacheler stod biholdyng

The daunce, and in his hond holdyng

Turke bowes two had he.

That oon of hem was of a tree

That bereth a fruyt of savour wykke;

Ful crokid was that foule stikke,

And knotty here and there also,

And blak as bery or ony slo.

That other bowe was of a plante

930 Withoute wem, I dar warante,

Ful evene and by proporcioun

Treitys and long, of ful good fasoun.

And it was peynted wel and thwyten,

And overal diapred and writen

With ladyes and with bacheleris,

Ful lyghtsom and glad of cheris.

These bowes two held Swete-Lokyng,

That semede lyk no gadelyng.

And ten brode arowis hild he there,

940 Of which fyve in his right hond were.

But they were shaven wel and dight,

Nokked and fethered right,

And all they were with gold bygoon,

And stronge poynted everychoon,

And sharpe for to kerven well.

But iren was ther noon ne steell,

For al was gold, men myght it see,

Out-take the fetheres and the tree.

The swiftest of these arowis fyve

950 Out of a bowe for to dryve,

And best fethered for to flee,

And fairest eke, was clepid Beaute.

That other arowe, that hurteth lesse,

Was clepid, as I trowe, Symplesse.

The thridde cleped was Fraunchise,

That fethred was in noble wise

With valour and with curtesye.

The fourthe was cleped Compaignye,

That hevy for to sheten ys.

960 But whoso shetith right, ywys,

May therwith doon gret harm and wo.

The fifte of these and laste also,

Faire-Semblaunt men that arowe calle,

The leeste grevous of hem alle,

Yit can it make a ful gret wounde.

But he may hope his soris sounde,

That hurt is with that arowe, ywys.

His wo the bet bistowed is,

For he may sonner have gladnesse

970 His langour oughte be the lesse.

Five arowis were of other gise,

That ben ful foule to devyse,

For shaft and ende, soth for to telle,

Were also blak as fend in helle.

The first of hem is called Pride.

That other arowe next hym biside,

It was cleped Vylanye;

That arowe was al with felonye

Envenymed, and with spitous blame.

980 The thridde of hem was cleped Shame.

The fourthe Wanhope cleped is.

The fifte, the Newe-Thought, ywys.

These arowis that I speke of heere

Were alle fyve on oon maneere,

And alle were they resemblable.

To hem was wel sittyng and able

The foule croked bowe hidous,

That knotty was and al roynous.

That bowe semede wel to shete

990 These arowis fyve that ben unmete

And contrarye to that other fyve.

But though I telle not as blyve

Of her power ne of her myght,

Herafter shal I tellen right

The soothe and eke signyfiaunce,

As fer as I have remembraunce.

All shal be seid, I undirtake,

Er of this book an ende I make.

Now come I to my tale ageyn.

1000 But aldirfirst I wol you seyn

The fasoun and the countenaunces

Of all the folk that on the daunce is.

The God of Love, jolyf and lyght,

Ladde on his hond a lady bright,

Of high prys and of gret degre.

This lady called was Beaute,

As an arowe, of which I tolde.

Ful wel thewed was she holde,

Ne she was derk ne broun, but bright,

1010 And clere as the mone lyght

Ageyn whom all the sterres semen

But smale candels, as we demen.

Hir flesh was tendre as dew of flour,

Hir chere was symple as byrde in bour,

As whyt as lylye or rose in rys,

Hir face, gentyl and tretys.

Fetys she was, and smal to se;

No wyndred browis hadde she,

Ne popped hir, for it neded nought

1020 To wyndre hir or to peynte hir ought.

Hir tresses yelowe and longe straughten,

Unto hir helys doun they raughten.

Hir nose, hir mouth, and eye, and cheke

Wel wrought, and all the remenaunt eke.

A ful gret savour and a swote

Me toucheth in myn herte rote,

As helpe me God, whan I remembre

Of the fasoun of every membre.

In world is noon so fair a wight,

1030 For yong she was, and hewed bright,

Sore plesaunt, and fetys withall,

Gente, and in hir myddill small.

Biside Beaute yede Richesse,

An high lady of gret noblesse,

And gret of prys in every place.

But whoso durste to hir trespace,

Or til hir folk, in word or dede,

He were full hardy, out of drede,

For bothe she helpe and hyndre may.

1040 And that is nought of yisterday

That riche folk have full gret myght

To helpe and eke to greve a wyght.

The beste and the grettest of valour

Diden Rychesse ful gret honour,

And besy weren hir to serve,

For that they wolde hir love deserve:

They cleped hir lady, gret and small.

This wide world hir dredith all;

This world is all in hir daunger.

1050 Hir court hath many a losenger,

And many a traytour envyous,

That ben ful besy and curyous

For to dispreisen and to blame

That best deserven love and name.

Bifore the folk, hem to bigilen,

These losengeris hem preyse and smylen,

And thus the world with word anoynten;

And aftirward they prikke and poynten

The folk right to the bare boon,

1060 Bihynde her bak whan they ben goon,

And foule abate the folkis prys.

Ful many a worthy man and wys,

An hundred, have [they] do to dye.

These losengers thorough flaterye

Have made folk ful straunge be,

There hem oughte be pryve.

Wel yvel mote they thryve and thee,

And yvel aryved mote they be,

These losengers, ful of envye!

1070 No good man loveth her companye.

Richesse a robe of purpur on hadde

Ne trowe not that I lye or madde,

For in this world is noon it lyche,

Ne by a thousand deell so riche,

Ne noon so fair; for it ful well

With orfrays leyd was everydeell,

And portraied in the ribanynges

Of dukes storyes, and of kynges,

And with a bend of gold tasseled,

1080 And knoppis fyne of gold ameled.

Aboute hir nekke of gentyl entayle

Was shet the riche chevesaile,

In which ther was full gret plente

Of stones clere and bright to see.

Rychesse a girdell hadde upon,

The bokel of it was of a stoon

Of vertu gret and mochel of myght,

For whoso bar the stoon so bright,

Of venym durst hym nothing doute,

1090 While he the stoon hadde hym aboute.

That stoon was gretly for to love,

And tyl a riche mannes byhove

Worth all the gold in Rome and Frise.

The mourdaunt wrought in noble wise

Was of a stoon full precious,

That was so fyn and vertuous

That hol a man it koude make

Of palasie and toth-ake.

And yit the stoon hadde such a grace

1100 That he was siker in every place,

All thilke day, not blynd to ben,

That fastyng myghte that stoon seen.

The barres were of gold ful fyn

Upon a tyssu of satyn,

Full hevy, gret, and nothyng lyght;

In everich was a besaunt-wight.

Upon the tresses of Richesse

Was sette a cercle, for noblesse,

Of brend gold that full lyghte shoon;

1110 So fair, trowe I, was never noon.

But he were kunnyng, for the nonys,

That koude devyse all the stonys

That in that cercle shewen clere.

It is a wondir thing to here,

For no man koude preyse or gesse

Of hem the valewe or richesse.

Rubyes there were, saphires, jagounces,

And emeraudes, more than two ounces,

But all byfore, ful sotilly,

1120 A fyn charboncle set saugh I.

The stoon so clere was and so bright

That, also soone as it was nyght,

Men myghte seen to go, for nede,

A myle or two in lengthe and brede.

Sich lyght sprang out of the ston

That Richesse wondir brighte shon,

Bothe hir heed and all hir face,

And eke aboute hir al the place.

Dame Richesse on hir hond gan lede

1130 A yong man ful of semelyhede,

That she best loved of ony thing.

His lust was mych in housholding.

In clothyng was he ful fetys,

And loved well to have hors of prys.

He wende to have reproved be

Of theft or moordre if that he

Hadde in his stable ony hakeney.

And therfore he desired ay

To be aqueynted with Richesse,

1140 For all his purpos, as I gesse,

Was forto make gret dispense,

Withoute wernyng or diffense.

And Richesse myght it wel sustene,

And hir dispence well mayntene,

And hym alwey sich plente sende

Of gold and silver for to spende

Withoute lakking or daunger,

As it were poured in a garner.

And after on the daunce wente

1150 Largesse, that settith al hir entente

For to be honourable and free.

Of Alexandres kyn was she.

Hir most joye was, ywys,

Whan that she yaf and seide, "Have this."

Not Avarice, the foule caytyf,

Was half to gripe so ententyf,

As Largesse is to yeve and spende;

And God ynough alwey hir sende,

So that the more she yaf awey

1160 The more, ywys, she hadde alwey.

Gret loos hath Largesse and gret pris,

For bothe [wys] folk and unwys

Were hooly to hir baundon brought,

So wel with yiftes hath she wrought.

And if she hadde an enemy,

I trowe that she coude tristily

Make hym full soone hir freend to be,

So large of yift and free was she.

Therfore she stod in love and grace

1170 Of riche and pover in every place.

A full gret fool is he, ywys,

That bothe riche and nygard is.

A lord may have no maner vice

That greveth more than avarice,

For nygart never with strengthe of hond

May wynne gret lordship or lond,

For freendis all to fewe hath he

To doon his will perfourmed be.

And whoso wole have freendis heere,

1180 He may not holde his tresour deere.

For by ensample I telle this:

Right as an adamaunt, iwys,

Can drawen to hym sotylly

The iren that is leid therby,

So drawith folkes hertis, ywis,

Silver and gold that yeven is.

Largesse hadde on a robe fresh

Of riche purpur Sarsynesh.

Wel fourmed was hir face and cleer,

1190 And opened hadde she hir coler,

For she right there hadde in present

Unto a lady maad present

Of a gold broche, ful wel wrought.

And certys, it myssat hir nought,

For thorough hir smokke, wrought with silk,

The flesh was seen as whit as mylk.

Largesse, that worthy was and wys,

Hild by the hond a knyght of prys,

Was sib to Artour of Britaigne,

1200 And that was he that bar the ensaigne

Of worship and the gounfanoun.

And yit he is of sich renoun

That men of hym seye faire thynges

Byfore barouns, erles, and kynges.

This knyght was comen all newely

Fro tourneiynge faste by;

There hadde he don gret chyvalrie

Thorough his vertu and his maistrie;

And for the love of his lemman

1210 He caste doun many a doughty man.

And next hym daunced dame Fraunchise,

Arayed in full noble gyse.

She was not broun ne dun of hewe,

But whit as snow fallen newe.

Hir nose was wrought at poynt devys,

For it was gentyl and tretys,

With eyen gladde, and browes bente.

Hir heer doun to hir helis wente,

And she was symple as dowve on tree.

1220 Ful debonaire of herte was she.

She durst never seyn ne do

But that that hir longed to;

And if a man were in distresse,

And for hir love in hevynesse,

Hir herte wolde have full gret pite,

She was so amiable and free.

For were a man for hir bistad,

She wolde ben right sore adrad

That she dide over-gret outrage,

1230 But she hym holpe his harm to aswage;

Hir thought it elles a vylanye.

And she hadde on a sukkenye,

That not of hempene heerdis was

So fair was noon in all Arras.

Lord, it was ridled fetysly!

Ther nas [nat] a poynt, trewely,

That it nas in his right assise.

Full wel clothed was Fraunchise,

For ther is no cloth sittith bet

1240 On damysell than doth roket.

A womman wel more fetys is

In roket than in cote, ywis.

The whyte roket, rydled faire,

Bitokeneth that full debonaire

And swete was she that it ber.

Bi hir daunced a bacheler.

I can not telle you what he highte,

But faire he was and of good highte,

All hadde he be, I sey no more,

1250 The lordis sone of Wyndesore.

And next that daunced Curtesye,

That preised was of lowe and hye,

For neither proud ne fool was she.

She for to daunce called me

(I pray God yeve hir right good grace!),

Whanne I com first into the place.

She was not nyce ne outrageous,

But wys and war and vertuous,

Of fair speche and of fair answere.

1260 Was never wight mysseid of here;

She bar rancour to no wight.

Clere broun she was, and therto bright

Of face, of body avenaunt

I wot no lady so plesaunt.

She [were] worthy for to bene

An emperesse or crowned quene.

And by hir wente a knyght dauncyng,

That worthy was and wel spekyng,

And ful wel koude he don honour.

1270 The knyght was fair and styf in stour,

And in armure a semely man,

And wel biloved of his lemman.

Faire Idilnesse thanne saugh I,

That alwey was me faste by.

Of hir have I, withoute fayle,

Told yow the shap and apparayle;

For (as I seide) loo, that was she

That dide to me so gret bounte

That she the gate of the gardyn

1280 Undide and let me passen in.

And after daunced, as I gesse,

[Youthe], fulfilled of lustynesse,

That nas not yit twelve yeer of age,

With herte wylde and thought volage.

Nyce she was, but she ne mente

Noon harm ne slight in hir entente,

But oonly lust and jolyte;

For yonge folk, wel witen ye,

Have lytel thought but on her play.

1290 Hir lemman was biside alway

In sich a gise that he hir kyste

At alle tymes that hym lyste,

That all the daunce myght it see.

They make no force of pryvete,

For who spake of hem yvel or well,

They were ashamed never a dell,

But men myght seen hem kisse there

As it two yonge dowves were.

For yong was thilke bacheler;

1300 Of beaute wot I noon his per.

And he was right of sich an age

As Youthe his leef, and sich corage.

The lusty folk thus daunced there,

And also other that with hem were,

That weren alle of her meyne;

Ful hende folk and wys and free,

And folk of faire port, truely,

There weren alle comunly.

Whanne I hadde seen the countenaunces

1310 Of hem that ladden thus these daunces,

Thanne hadde I will to gon and see

The gardyn that so lyked me,

And loken on these faire loreres,

On pyntrees, cedres, and oliveris.

The daunces thanne eended were,

For many of them that daunced there

Were with her loves went awey

Undir the trees to have her pley.

A, Lord, they lyved lustyly!

1320 A gret fool were he, sikirly,

That nolde, his thankes, such lyf lede!

For this dar I seyn, oute of drede,

That whoso myghte so wel fare,

For better lyf durst hym not care;

For ther nys so good paradys

As to have a love at his devys.

Oute of that place wente I thoo,

And in that gardyn gan I goo,

Pleyyng along full meryly.

1330 The God of Love full hastely

Unto hym Swete-Lokyng clepte;

No lenger wolde he that he kepte

His bowe of gold, that shoon so bright.

He bad hym bende [it] anoon ryght,

And he full soone [it] sette an-ende,

And at a braid he gan it bende,

And tok hym of his arowes fyve,

Full sharp and redy for to dryve.

Now God, that sittith in mageste,

1340 Fro deedly woundes he kepe me,

If so be that he hadde me shette!

For if I with his arowe mette,

It hadde me greved sore, iwys.

But I, that nothyng wist of this,

Wente up and doun full many a wey,

And he me folwed fast alwey,

But nowhere wold I reste me,

Till I hadde in all the gardyn be.

The gardyn was, by mesuryng,

1350 Right evene and square in compassing:

It as long was as it was large.

Of fruyt hadde every tree his charge,

But it were any hidous tree,

Of which ther were two or three.

There were, and that wot I full well,

Of pome-garnettys a full gret dell;

That is a fruyt full well to lyke,

Namely to folk whanne they ben sike.

And trees there were, gret foisoun,

1360 That baren notes in her sesoun,

Such as men notemygges calle,

That swote of savour ben withalle.

And alemandres gret plente,

Fyges, and many a date-tree

There wexen, if men hadde nede,

Thorough the gardyn in length and brede.

Ther was eke wexyng many a spice,

As clowe-gelofre and lycorice,

Gyngevre and greyn de parys,

1370 Canell and setewale of prys,

And many a spice delitable

To eten whan men rise fro table.

And many homly trees ther were

That peches, coynes, and apples beere,

Medlers, plowmes, perys, chesteynes,

Cherys, of which many oon fayn is,

Notes, aleys, and bolas,

That for to seen it was solas.

With many high lorer and pyn

1380 Was renged clene all that gardyn,

With cipres and with olyveres,

Of which that nygh no plente heere is.

There were elmes grete and stronge,

Maples, assh, ok, asp, planes longe,

Fyn ew, popler, and lyndes faire,

And othere trees full many a payre.

What shulde I tel you more of it?

There were so many trees yit,

That I shulde al encombred be

1390 Er I had rekened every tree.

These trees were set, that I devyse,

Oon from another, in assyse,

Fyve fadome or sixe, I trowe so;

But they were hye and great also,

And for to kepe out wel the sonne,

The croppes were so thicke ronne,

And every braunche in other knet

And ful of grene leves set,

That sonne myght there non discende,

1400 Lest [it] the tender grasses shende.

There myght men does and roes se,

And of squyrels ful great plente

From bowe to bowe alway lepynge.

Conies there were also playinge,

That comyn out of her clapers,

Of sondrie colours and maners,

And maden many a tourneying

Upon the fresshe grass spryngyng.

In places saw I welles there,

1410 In whiche there no frogges were,

And fayr in shadowe was every welle.

But I ne can the nombre telle

Of stremys smal that by devys

Myrthe had don come through condys,

Of whiche the water in rennyng

Gan make a noyse ful lykyng.

About the brinkes of these welles,

And by the stremes overal elles,

Sprang up the grass, as thicke set

1420 And softe as any veluet,

On which men myght his lemman leye

As on a fetherbed to pleye,

For the erthe was ful softe and swete.

Through moisture of the welle wete

Sprong up the sote grene gras

As fayre, as thicke, as myster was.

But moche amended it the place

That th' erthe was of such a grace

That it of floures hath plente,

1430 That bothe in somer and wynter be.

There sprang the vyolet al newe,

And fressh pervynke, riche of hewe,

And floures yelowe, white, and rede

Such plente grew there never in mede.

Ful gay was al the ground, and queynt,

And poudred, as men had it peynt,

With many a fressh and sondri flour,

That casten up ful good savour.

I wol nat longe holde you in fable

1440 Of al this garden dilectable.

I mot my tonge stynten nede,

For I ne may, withouten drede,

Naught tellen you the beaute al,

Ne half the bounte therewithal.

I went on right hond and on left

About the place; it was nat left,

Tyl I had [in] al the garden ben,

In the estres that men myghte sen.

And thus while I wente in my play,

1450 The God of Love me folowed ay,

Right as an hunter can abyde

The beest, tyl he seeth his tyde

To sheten at good mes to the der,

Whan that hym nedeth go no ner.

And so befyl, I rested me

Besydes a wel, under a tree,

Which tree in Fraunce men cal a pyn.

But sithe the tyme of Kyng Pepyn,

Ne grew there tree in mannes syghte

1460 So fayr, ne so wel woxe in highte

In al that yard so high was non.

And springyng in a marble ston

Had Nature set, the sothe to telle,

Under that pyn-tree a welle.

And on the border, al withoute,

Was written in the ston aboute,

Letters smal that sayden thus,

"Here starf the fayre Narcisus."

Narcisus was a bacheler

1470 That Love had caught in his danger,

And in his net gan hym so strayne,

And dyd him so to wepe and playne,

That nede him must his lyf forgo.

For a fayr lady that hight Echo

Him loved over any creature,

And gan for hym such payne endure

That on a tyme she him tolde

That if he her loven nolde,

That her behoved nedes dye;

1480 There laye non other remedye.

But natheles for his beaute

So feirs and daungerous was he

That he nolde graunten hir askyng,

For wepyng ne for fair praiyng.

And whanne she herde hym werne [her] soo,

She hadde in herte so gret woo,

And took it in so gret dispit,

That she, withoute more respit,

Was deed anoon. But er she deide,

1490 Full pitously to God she preide

That proude-hertid Narcisus,

That was in love so daungerous,

Myght on a day ben hampred so

For love, and ben so hoot for woo,

That never he myght to joye atteyne,

And that he shulde feele in every veyne

What sorowe trewe lovers maken,

That ben so vilaynsly forsaken.

This prayer was but resonable;

1500 Therfore God held it ferme and stable.

For Narcisus, shortly to telle,

By aventure com to that welle

To reste hym in that shadowing

A day whanne he com fro huntyng.

This Narcisus hadde suffred paynes

For rennyng alday in the playnes,

And was for thurst in gret distresse

Of heet and of his werynesse

That hadde his breth almost bynomen.

1510 Whanne he was to that welle comen,

That shadowid was with braunches grene,

He thoughte of thilke water shene

To drynke, and fresshe hym wel withalle.

And doun on knees he gan to falle,

And forth his heed and necke he straughte

To drynken of that welle a draughte.

And in the water anoon was seene

His nose, his mouth, his yen sheene,

And he therof was all abasshed.

1520 His owne shadowe had hym bytrasshed,

For well wende he the forme see

Of a child of gret beaute.

Well kouth. Love hym wreke thoo

Of daunger and of pride also,

That Narcisus somtyme hym beer.

He quytte hym well his guerdoun ther,

For he musede so in the welle

That, shortly all the sothe to telle,

He lovede his owne shadowe soo

1530 That atte laste he starf for woo.

For whanne he saugh that he his wille

Myght in no maner wey fulfille,

And that he was so faste caught

That he hym kouth. comfort nought,

He loste his wit right in that place,

And diede withynne a lytel space.

And thus his warisoun he took

For the lady that he forsook.

Ladyes, I preye ensample takith,

1540 Ye that ageyns youre love mistakith,

For if her deth be yow to wite,

God kan ful well youre while quyte.

Whanne that this lettre of which I telle

Hadde taught me that it was the welle

Of Narcisus in his beaute,

I gan anoon withdrawe me,

Whanne it fel in my remembraunce

That hym bitidde such myschaunce.

But at the laste thanne thought I

1550 That scatheles, full sykerly,

I myght unto the welle goo.

Wherof shulde I abasshen soo?

And doun I loutede for to see

The clere water in the stoon,

And eke the gravell, which that shoon

Down in the botme as silver fyn,

For of the well this is the fyn:

In world is noon so cler of hewe.

1560 The water is evere fresh and newe,

That welmeth up with wawis brighte

The mountance of two fynger highte.

Abouten it is gras spryngyng,

For moiste so thikke and wel likyng

That it ne may in wynter dye

No more than may the see be drye.

Down at the botme set saw I

Two cristall stonys craftely

In thilke freshe and faire welle.

1570 But o thing sothly dar I telle,

That ye wole holde a gret mervayle

Whanne it is told, withouten fayle.

For whanne the sonne, cler in sighte,

Cast in that well his bemys brighte,

And that the heete descendid is,

Thanne taketh the cristall stoon, ywis,

Agayn the sonne an hundrid hewis,

Blew, yelow, and red, that fresh and newe is.

Yitt hath the merveilous cristall

1580 Such strengthe that the place overall,

Bothe flour and tree and leves grene

And all the yerd in it is seene.

And for to don you to undirstonde,

To make ensample wole I fonde.

Ryght as a myrrour openly

Shewith all thing that stondith therby,

As well the colour as the figure,

Withouten ony coverture,

Right so the cristall stoon shynyng

1590 Withouten ony disseyvyng

The estrees of the yerd accusith

To hym that in the water musith.

For evere, in which half that he be,

He may well half the gardyn se,

And if he turne, he may right well

Sen the remenaunt everydell.

For ther is noon so litil thyng

So hid, ne closid with shittyng,

That it ne is sene, as though it were

1600 Peyntid in the cristall there.

This is the mirrour perilous

In which the proude Narcisus

Saw all his face fair and bright,

That made hym sithe to ligge upright.

For whoso loketh in that mirrour,

Ther may nothyng ben his socour

That he ne shall there sen somthyng

That shal hym lede into lovyng.

Full many worthy man hath it

1610 Blent, for folk of grettist wit

Ben soone caught heere and awayted;

Withouten respit ben they baited.

Heere comth to folk of newe rage;

Heere chaungith many wight corage;

Heere lith no red ne wit therto;

For Venus sone, daun Cupido,

Hath sowen there of love the seed,

That help ne lith there noon, ne red,

So cerclith it the welle aboute.

1620 His gynnes hath he sette withoute,

Ryght for to cacche in his panters

These damoysels and bachelers.

Love will noon other bridde[s] cacche,

Though he sette either net or lacche.

And for the seed that heere was sowen,

This welle is clepid, as well is knowen,

The Welle of Love, of verray right,

Of which ther hath ful many a wight

Spoken in bookis dyversely.

1630 But they shull never so verily

Descripcioun of the welle heere,

Ne eke the sothe of this matere,

As ye shull, whanne I have undo

The craft that hir bilongith too.

Allway me liked for to dwelle

To sen the cristall in the welle

That shewide me full openly

A thousand thinges faste by.

But I may say, in sory houre

1640 Stode I to loken or to poure,

For sithen [have] I sore siked.

That mirrour hath me now entriked,

But hadde I first knowen in my wit

The vertu and [the] strengthe of it,

I nolde not have mused there.

Me hadde bet ben elliswhere,

For in the snare I fell anoon

That hath bitrasshed many oon.

In thilke mirrour saw I tho,

1650 Among a thousand thinges mo,

A roser chargid full of rosis,

That with an hegge aboute enclos is.

Tho had I sich lust and envie,

That for Parys ne for Pavie

Nolde I have left to goon and see

There grettist hep of roses be.

Whanne I was with this rage hent,

That caught hath many a man and shent,

Toward the roser gan I go;

1660 And whanne I was not fer therfro,

The savour of the roses swote

Me smot right to the herte-rote,

As I hadde all enbawmed be.

And if I ne hadde endouted me

To have ben hatid or assailed,

My thankis, wolde I not have failed

To pulle a rose of all that route

To beren in myn hond aboute

And smellen to it where I wente;

1670 But ever I dredde me to repente,

And lest it grevede or forthoughte

The lord that thilke gardyn wroughte.

Of roses ther were gret wone,

So faire waxe never in rone.

Of knoppes clos some sawe I there;

And some wel beter woxen were;

And some ther ben of other moysoun

That drowe nygh to her sesoun

And spedde hem faste for to sprede.

1680 I love well sich roses rede,

For brode roses and open also

Ben passed in a day or two,

But knoppes wille [al] freshe be

Two dayes, atte leest, or thre.

The knoppes gretly liked me,

For fairer may ther no man se.

Whoso myght have oon of alle,

It ought hym ben full lief withalle.

Might I [a] gerlond of hem geten,

1690 For no richesse I wolde it leten.

Among the knoppes I ches oon

So fair that of the remenaunt noon

Ne preise I half so well as it,

Whanne I avise it in my wit.

For it so well was enlumyned

With colour reed, [and] as well fyned

As nature couth. it make faire.

And it hath leves wel foure paire,

That Kynde hath sett, thorough his knowyng,

1700 Aboute the rede roses spryngyng.

The stalke was as rishe right,

And theron stod the knoppe upright

That it ne bowide upon no side.

The swote smelle sprong so wide

That it dide all the place aboute

FRAGMENT B

Whanne I hadde smelled the savour swote,

No will hadde I fro thens yit goo,

Bot somdell neer it wente I thoo,

To take it, but myn hond, for drede,

1710 Ne dorste I to the Rose bede

For thesteles sharpe, of many maneres,

Netles, thornes, and hokede breres,

For mych they distourbled me,

For sore I dradde to harmed be.

The God of Love, with bowe bent,

That all day set hadde his talent

To pursuen and to spien me,

Was stondyng by a fige-tree.

And whanne he saw hou that I

1720 Hadde chosen so ententifly

The botoun, more unto my pay

Than ony other that I say,

He tok an arowe full sharply whet,

And in his bowe whanne it was set,

He streight up to his ere drough

The stronge bowe that was so tough,

And shet att me so wondir smerte

That thorough myn ye unto myn herte

The takel smot, and depe it wente.

1730 And therwithall such cold me hente

That under clothes warme and softe

Sithen that day I have chevered ofte.

Whanne I was hurt thus, in [a] stounde

I felle doun plat unto the grounde.

Myn herte failed and feynted ay,

And longe tyme a-swoone I lay.

But whanne I come out of swonyng,

And hadde witt and my felyng,

I was all maat, and wende full well

1740 Of blood have loren a full gret dell.

But certes, the arowe that in me stod

Of me ne drew no drope of blod,

For-why I found my wounde all dreie.

Thanne tok I with myn hondis tweie

The arowe, and ful fast out it plighte,

And in the pullyng sore I sighte.

So at the last the shaft of tree

I drough out with the fethers thre.

But yet the hokede heed, ywis,

1750 The which [that] Beaute callid is,

Gan so depe in myn herte passe,

That I it myghte nought arace;

But in myn herte still it stod,

Al bledde I not a drope of blod.

I was bothe anguyssous and trouble

For the perill that I saw double:

I nyste what to seye or do,

Ne gete a leche my woundis to;

For neithir thurgh gras ne rote

1760 Ne hadde I help of hope ne bote.

But to the botoun evermo

Myn herte drew, for all my wo;

My thought was in noon other thing,

For hadde it ben in my kepyng,

It wolde have brought my lyf agayn.

For certis evenly, I dar wel seyn,

The sight oonly and the savour

Alegged mych of my langour.

Thanne gan I for to drawe me

1770 Toward the botoun faire to se;

And Love hadde gete hym, in a throwe,

Another arowe into his bowe,

And for to shete gan hym dresse.

The arowis name was Symplesse,

And whanne that Love gan nygh me nere,

He drow it up, withouten were,

And shet at me with all his myght,

So that this arowe anoon-right

Thourghout [myn] eigh, as it was founde,

1780 Into myn herte hath maad a wounde.

Thanne I anoon dide al my craft

For to drawen out the shaft,

And therwithall I sighed eft.

But in myn herte the heed was left,

Which ay encreside my desir

Unto the botoun drawe ner;

And evermo that me was woo,

The more desir hadde I to goo

Unto the roser, where that grew

1790 The freysshe botoun so bright of hew.

Betir me were to have laten be,

But it bihovede nedes me

To don right as myn herte bad,

For evere the body must be lad

Aftir the herte, in wele and woo;

Of force togidre they must goo.

But never this archer wolde feyne

To shete at me with all his peyne,

And for to make me to hym mete.

1800 The thridde arowe he gan to shete,

Whanne best his tyme he myght espie,

The which was named Curtesie.

Into myn herte it dide avale;

A-swoone I fell bothe deed and pale.

Long tyme I lay and stired nought,

Till I abraide out of my thought,

And faste thanne I avysede me

To drawe out the shaft of tree.

But evere the heed was left bihynde,

1810 For ought I couth. pulle or wynde,

So sore it stikid whanne I was hit,

That by no craft I myght it flit.

But anguyssous and full of thought,

I felte sich woo my wounde ay wrought,

That somonede me alway to goo

Toward the Rose that plesede me soo,

But I ne durste in no maner,

Bicause the archer was so ner.

"For evermore gladly," as I rede,

1820 "Brent child of fir hath myche drede."

And, certis yit, for al my peyne,

Though that I sigh yit arwis reyne,

And grounde quarels sharpe of steell,

Ne for no payne that I myght feell,

Yit myght I not mysilf witholde

The faire roser to biholde,

For Love me yaf sich hardement

For to fulfille his comaundement.

Upon my fete I ros up than,

1830 Feble as a forwoundid man,

And forth to gon [my] myght I sette,

And for the archer nolde I lette.

Toward the roser fast I drow,

But thornes sharpe mo than ynow

Ther were, and also thisteles thikke,

And breres, brymme for to prikke,

That I ne myghte gete grace

The rowe thornes for to passe,

To sen the roses fresshe of hewe.

1840 I must abide, though it me rewe,

The hegge aboute so thikke was,

That closide the roses in compas.

But o thing lyked me right well:

I was so nygh, I myghte fel

Of the botoun the swote odour,

And also se the fresshe colour,

And that right gretly liked me,

That I so neer myghte it se.

Sich joie anoon therof hadde I

1850 That I forgat my malady.

To sen I hadde sich delit,

Of sorwe and angre I was al quyt,

And of my woundes that I hadde thore;

For nothing liken me myght more

Than dwellen by the roser ay,

And thennes never to passe away.

But whanne a while I hadde be thar,

The God of Love, which al toshar

Myn herte with his arwis kene,

1860 Castith hym to yeve me woundis grene.

He shet at me full hastily

An arwe named Company,

The whiche takell is full able

To make these ladies merciable.

Thanne I anoon gan chaungen hewe

For grevaunce of my wounde newe,

That I agayn fell in swonyng

And sighede sore in compleynyng.

Soore I compleyned that my sore

1870 On me gan greven more and more.

I hadde noon hope of allegeaunce;

So nygh I drow to desperaunce,

I roughte of deth ne of lyf,

Wheder that Love wolde me dryf.

Yf me a martir wolde he make,

I myght his power nought forsake.

And while for anger thus I wok,

The God of Love an arowe tok --

Ful sharp it was and pugnaunt --

1880 And it was callid Faire-Semblaunt,

The which in no wise wole consente

That ony lover hym repente

To serve his love with herte and alle,

For ony perill that may bifalle.

But though this arwe was kene grounde

As ony rasour that is founde,

To kutte and kerve, at the poynt

The God of Love it hadde anoynt

With a precious oynement,

1890 Somdell to yeve aleggement

Upon the woundes that he had

To helpe her sores, and to cure,

And that they may the bet endure.

But yit this arwe, withoute more,

Made in myn herte a large sore,

That in full gret peyne I abod.

But ay the oynement wente abrod;

Thourghout my woundes large and wide

1900 It spredde aboute in every side,

Thorough whos vertu and whos myght

Myn herte joyfull was and light.

I hadde ben deed and al toshent,

But for the precious oynement.

The shaft I drow out of the arwe,

Rokyng for wo right wondir narwe;

But the heed, which made me smerte,

Lefte bihynde in myn herte

With other foure, I dar wel say,

1910 That never wole be take away.

But the oynement halp me wel,

And yit sich sorwe dide I fel

That al day I chaunged hewe

Of my woundes fresshe and newe,

As men myght se in my visage.

The arwis were so full of rage,

So variaunt of diversitee,

That men in everich myghte se

Bothe gret anoy and eke swetnesse,

1920 And joie meynt with bittirnesse.

Now were they esy, now were they wod;

In hem I felte bothe harm and good;

Now sore without alleggement,

Now softenyng with oynement;

It softnede heere and prikkith there:

Thus ese and anger togidre were.

The God of Love delyverly

Com lepande to me hastily,

And seide to me in gret rape,

1930 "Yeld thee, for thou may not escape!

May no defence availe thee heer;

Therfore I rede make no daunger.

If thou wolt yelde thee hastily,

Thou shalt rather have mercy.

He is a fool in sikernesse,

That with daunger or stoutnesse

Rebellith there that he shulde plese;

In sich folye is litel ese.

Be meke where thou must nedis bow;

1940 To stryve ageyn is nought thi prow.

Com at oones, and have ydoo,

For I wol that it be soo.

Thanne yeld thee heere debonairly."

And I answerid ful hombly,

"Gladly, sir, at youre biddyng,

I wole me yelde in alle thyng.

To youre servyse I wol me take,

For God defende that I shulde make

Ageyn youre biddyng resistence.

1950 I wole not don so gret offence,

For if I dide, it were no skile.

Ye may do with me what ye wile,

Save or spille, and also sloo.

Fro you in no wise may I goo.

My lyf, my deth is in youre hond;

I may not laste out of youre bond.

Pleyn at youre lyst I yelde me,

Hopyng in herte that sumtyme ye

Comfort and ese shull me sende;

1960 Or ellis, shortly, this is the eende,

Withouten helthe I mot ay dure,

But if ye take me to youre cure.

Comfort or helthe how shuld I have,

Sith ye me hurt, but ye me save?

The helthe of love mot be founde

Where as they token first her wounde.

And if ye lyst of me to make

Youre prisoner, I wol it take

Of herte and will, fully at gree.

1970 Hoolly and pleyn Y yelde me,

Withoute feynyng or feyntise,

To be governed by youre emprise.

Of you I here so myche pris,

I wole ben hool at youre devis

For to fulfille youre lykyng

And repente for nothyng,

Hopyng to have yit in som tide

Mercy of that I abide."

And with that covenaunt yelde I me

1980 Anoon, down knelyng upon my kne,

Proferyng for to kisse his feet;

But for nothyng he wolde [me] let,

And seide, "I love thee bothe and preise,

Sen that thyn aunswar doth me ease,

For thou answerid so curteisly.

For now I wot wel uttirly

That thou art gentyll by thi speche.

For though a man fer wolde seche,

He shulde not fynden, in certeyn,

1990 No sich answer of no vileyn;

For sich a word ne myghte nought

Isse out of a vilayns thought.

Thou shalt not lesen of thi speche,

For [to] thy helpyng wole I eche,

And eke encresen that I may.

But first I wole that thou obay

Fully, for thyn avauntage,

Anoon to do me heere homage.

And sithe kisse thou shalt my mouth,

2000 Which to no vilayn was never couth

For to aproche it, ne for to touche;

For sauff of cherlis I ne vouche

That they shull never neigh it nere.

For curteis and of faire manere,

Well taught and ful of gentilnesse

He muste ben that shal me kysse,

And also of full high fraunchise,

That shal atteyne to that emprise.

And first of o thing warne I thee,

2010 That peyne and gret adversite

He mot endure, and eke travaile,

That shal me serve, withouten faile.

But ther-ageyns thee to comforte,

And with thi servise to desporte,

Thou mayst full glad and joyfull be

So good a maister to have as me,

And lord of so high renoun.

I bere of love the gonfanoun,

Of curtesie the banere.

2020 For I am of the silf manere,

Gentil, curteys, meke, and fre,

That whoever ententyf be

Me to honoure, doute, and serve,

And also that he hym observe

Fro trespas and fro vilanye,

And hym governe in curtesie

With will and with entencioun.

For whanne he first in my prisoun

Is caught, thanne must he uttirly

2030 Fro thennes forth full bisily

Caste hym gentyll for to bee,

If he desire help of me."

Anoon withouten more delay,

Withouten daunger or affray,

I bicom his man anoon,

And gaf hym thankes many a oon,

And knelide doun with hondis joynt

And made it in my port full queynt.

The joye wente to myn herte rote,

2040 Whanne I hadde kissed his mouth so swote;

I hadde sich myrthe and sich likyng,

It cured me of langwisshing.

He askide of me thanne hostages:

"I have," he seide, "taken fele homages

Of oon and other, where I have ben

Disceyved ofte, withouten wen.

These felouns, full of falsite,

Have many sithes biguyled me

And thorough falshed her lust achieved,

2050 Wherof I repente and am agreved.

And I hem gete in my daunger,

Her falshede shull they bie full der.

But for I love thee, I seie thee pleyn,

I wol of thee be more certeyn;

For thee so sore I wole now bynde

That thou away ne shalt not wynde

For to denyen the covenaunt,

Or don that is not avenaunt.

That thou were fals it were gret reuthe,

2060 Sith thou semest so full of treuthe."

"Sire, if thee lyst to undirstande,

I merveile the askyng this demande.

For why or wherfore shulde ye

Ostages or borwis aske of me,

Or ony other sikirnesse,

Sith ye wot, in sothfastnesse,

That ye have me susprised so,

And hol myn herte taken me fro,

That it wole do for me nothing,

2070 But if it be at youre biddyng?

Myn herte is youres, and myn right nought,

As it bihoveth, in dede and thought,

Redy in all to worche youre will,

Whether so turne to good or ill,

So sore it lustith you to plese,

No man therof may you disseise.

Ye have theron sette sich justice,

That it is werreid in many wise;

And if ye doute it nolde obeye,

2080 Ye may therof do make a keye,

And holde it with you for ostage."

"Now, certis, this is noon outrage,"

Quod Love, "and fully I acord.

For of the body he is full lord

That hath the herte in his tresor;

Outrage it were to asken more."

Thanne of his awmener he drough

A litell keye, fetys ynowgh,

Which was of gold polisshed clere,

2090 And seide to me, "With this keye heere

Thyn herte to me now wole I shette.

For all my jowelles, loke and knette,

I bynde undir this litel keye,

That no wight may carie aweye.

This keye is full of gret poeste."

With which anoon he touchide me

Undir the side full softely,

That he myn herte sodeynly

Without anoy hadde spered,

2100 That yit right nought it hath me dered.

Whanne he hadde don his will al oute,

And I hadde putte hym out of doute,

"Sire," I seide, "I have right gret wille

Youre lust and plesaunce to fulfille.

Loke ye my servise take at gree,

By thilke feith ye owe to me.

I seye nought for recreaundise,

For I nought doute of youre servise,

But the servaunt traveileth in vayne,

2110 That for to serven doth his payne

Unto that lord, which in no wise

Kan hym no thank for his servyse."

Love seide, "Dismaie thee nought.

Syn thou for sokour hast me sought,

In thank thi servise wol I take,

And high of degre I wol thee make,

If wikkidnesse ne hyndre thee.

But, as I hope, it shal nought be;

To worshipe no wight by aventure

2120 May come, but if he peyne endure.

Abid and suffre thy distresse;

That hurtith now, it shal be lesse.

I wot mysilf what may thee save,

What medicyne thou woldist have.

And if thi trouthe to me thou kepe,

I shal unto thy helpyng eke,

To cure thy woundes and make hem clene,

Where so they be olde or grene --

Thou shalt be holpen, at wordis fewe.

2130 For certeynly thou shalt well shewe

Wher that thou servest with good wille

For to complysshen and fulfille

My comaundementis, day and nyght,

Whiche I to lovers yeve of right."

"A sire, for Goddis love," seide I,

"Er ye passe hens, ententyfly

Youre comaundementis to me ye say,

And I shall kepe hem, if I may;

For hem to kepen is all my thought.

2140 And if so be I wot hem nought,

Thanne may I [erre] unwityngly.

Wherfore I pray you enterely,

With all myn herte, me to lere,

That I trespasse in no manere."

The God of Love thanne chargide me

Anoon, as ye shall here and see,

Word by word, by right emprise,

So as the Romance shall devise.

The maister lesith his tyme to lere,

2150 Whanne that the disciple wol not here;

It is but veyn on hym to swynke

That on his lernyng wol not thinke.

Whoso luste love, lat hym entende,

For now the Romance bigynneth to amende.

Now is good to here, in fay,

If ony be that can it say,

And poynte it as the resoun is

Set; for other-gate, ywys,

It shall nought well in alle thyng

2160 Be brought to good undirstondyng.

For a reder that poyntith ille

A good sentence may ofte spille.

The book is good at the eendyng,

Maad of newe and lusty thyng;

For whoso wol the eendyng here,

The craft of love he shall mowe lere,

If that ye wol so long abide,

Tyl I this Romance may unhide,

And undo the signifiance

2170 Of this drem into Romance.

The sothfastnesse that now is hid,

Without coverture shall be kid

Whanne I undon have this dremyng,

Wherynne no word is of lesyng.

"Vilanye, at the bigynnyng,

I wole," sayde Love, "over alle thyng,

Thou leve if thou wolt [not] be

Fals, and trespasse ageynes me.

I curse and blame generaly

2180 All hem that loven vilany,

For vilanye makith vilayn,

And by his dedis a cherl is seyn.

Thise vilayns arn withouten pitee,

Frendshipe, love, and all bounte.

I nyl resseyve unto my servise

Hem that ben vilayns of emprise.

But undirstonde in thyn entent

That this is not myn entendement,

To clepe no wight in noo ages

2190 Oonly gentill for his lynages.

But whoso is vertuous,

And in his port nought outrageous,

Whanne sich oon thou seest thee biforn,

Though he be not gentill born,

Thou maist well seyn, this is in soth,

That he is gentil by cause he doth

As longeth to a gentilman;

Of hem noon other deme I can.

For certeynly, withouten drede,

2200 A cherl is demed by his dede

Of hie or lowe, as we may see,

Or of what kynrede that he bee.

Ne say nought, for noon yvel wille,

Thyng that is to holden stille;

It is no worshipe to myssey.

Thou maist ensample take of Key,

That was somtyme, for mysseiyng,

Hated bothe of olde and ying.

As fer as Gaweyn, the worthy,

2210 Was preised for his curtesy,

Kay was hated, for he was fell,

Of word dispitous and cruell.

Wherfore be wise and aqueyntable,

Goodly of word, and resonable

Bothe to lesse and eke to mare.

And whanne thou comest there men are,

Loke that thou have in custome ay

First to salue hem, if thou may;

And if it fall that of hem som

2220 Salue thee first, be not domm,

But quyte hem curteisly anoon,

Without abidyng, er they goon.

"For nothyng eke thy tunge applye

To speke wordis of rebaudrye.

To vilayn speche in no degre

Lat never thi lippe unbounden be.

For I nought holde hym, in good feith,

Curteys, that foule wordis seith.

And alle wymmen serve and preise,

2230 And to thy power her honour reise;

And if that ony myssaiere

Dispise wymmen, that thou maist here,

Blame hym, and bidde hym holde hym stille.

And [set] thy myght and all thy wille

Wymmen and ladies for to please,

And to do thyng that may hem ese,

That they ever speke good of thee,

For so thou maist best preised be.

"Loke fro pride thou kepe thee wel;

2240 For thou maist bothe perceyve and fel

That pride is bothe foly and synne,

And he that pride hath hym withynne

Ne may his herte in no wise

Meken ne souplen to servyse.

For pride is founde in every part

Contrarie unto loves art.

And he that loveth, trewely,

Shulde hym contene jolily

Without pride in sondry wise,

2250 And hym disgysen in queyntise.

For queynt array, without drede,

Is nothyng proud, who takith hede;

For fresh array, as men may see,

Withouten pride may ofte be.

"Mayntene thysilf aftir thi rent

Of robe and eke of garnement,

For many sithe fair clothyng

A man amendith in myche thyng.

And loke alwey that they be shape --

2260 What garnement that thou shalt make --

Of hym that kan best do,

With all that perteyneth therto.

Poyntis and sleves be well sittand,

Right and streght on the hand.

Of shon and bootes, newe and faire,

Loke at the leest thou have a paire,

And that they sitte so fetisly

That these rude may uttirly

Merveyle, sith that they sitte so pleyn,

2270 How they come on or off ageyn.

Were streite gloves with awmenere

Of silk; and alwey with good chere

Thou yeve, if thou have richesse;

And if thou have nought, spende the lesse.

Alwey be mery, if thou may,

But waste not thi good alway.

Have hat of floures as fresh as May,

Chapelett of roses of Whitsonday,

For sich array ne costeth but lite.

2280 Thyn hondis wassh, thy teeth make white,

And let no filthe upon thee bee.

Thy nailes blak if thou maist see,

Voide it awey delyverly,

And kembe thyn heed right jolily.

Fard not thi visage in no wise,

For that of love is not th' emprise;

For love doth haten, as I fynde,

A beaute that cometh not of kynde.

Alwey in herte I rede thee

2290 Glad and mery for to be,

And be as joyfull as thou can;

Love hath no joye of sorowful man.

That yvell is full of curtesie

That laughith in his maladie;

For ever of love the siknesse

Is meynd with swete and bitternesse.

The sore of love is merveilous;

For now the lover [is. joyous,

Now can he pleyne, now can he grone,

2300 Now can he syngen, now maken mone;

To-day he pleyneth for hevynesse,

To-morowe he pleyeth for jolynesse.

The lyf of love is full contrarie,

Which stoundemele can ofte varie.

But if thou canst mirthis make,

That men in gre wole gladly take,

Do it goodly, I comaunde thee.

For men shulde, wheresoevere they be,

Do thing that hem sittyng is,

2310 For therof cometh good loos and pris.

Whereof that thou be vertuous,

Ne be not straunge ne daungerous;

For if that thou good ridere be,

Prike gladly, that men may se.

In armes also if thou konne,

Pursue til thou a name hast wonne.

And if thi voice be faire and cler,

Thou shalt maken [no] gret daunger

Whanne to synge they goodly preye --

2320 It is thi worship for t' obeye.

Also to you it longith ay

To harpe and gitterne, daunce and play,

For if he can wel foote and daunce,

It may hym greetly do avaunce.

Among eke, for thy lady sake,

Songes and complayntes that thou make,

For that wole meven in hir herte,

Whanne they reden of thy smerte.

Loke that no man for scarce thee holde,

2330 For that may greve thee many folde.

Resoun wole that a lover be

In his yiftes more large and fre

Than cherles that ben not of lovyng.

For who therof can ony thyng,

He shal be leef ay for to yeve,

In Loves lore whoso wolde leve;

For he that thorough a sodeyn sight,

Or for a kyssyng, anoonright

Yaff hool his herte in will and thought,

2340 And to hymsilf kepith right nought,

Aftir [swich] [gift] it is good resoun

He yeve his good in abandoun.

"Now wol I shortly heere reherce

Of that I have seid in verce

Al the sentence by and by,

In wordis fewe compendiously,

That thou the better mayst on hem thynke,

Whether so it be thou wake or wynke.

For the wordis litel greve

2350 A man to kepe, whanne it is breve.

Whoso with Love wole goon or ride,

He mot be curteis, and voide of pride,

Mery, and full of jolite,

And of largesse alosed be.

"First I joyne thee, heere in penaunce,

That evere, withoute repentaunce,

Thou sette thy thought in thy lovyng

To laste withoute repentyng,

And thenke upon thi myrthis swete,

2360 That shall folowe aftir, whan ye mete.

"And for thou trewe to love shalt be,

I wole, and comaunde thee,

That in oo place thou sette, all hool,

Thyn herte withoute halfen dool

Of trecherie and sikernesse;

For I lovede nevere doublenesse.

To many his herte that wole depart,

Everich shal have but litel part;

But of hym drede I me right nought,

2370 That in oo place settith his thought.

Therfore in oo place it sette,

And lat it nevere thannys flette.

For if thou yevest it in lenyng,

I holde it but a wrecchid thyng;

Therfore yeve it hool and quyt,

And thou shalt have the more merit.

If it be lent, than aftir soon

The bounte and the thank is doon;

But, in love, fre yeven thing

2380 Requyrith a gret guerdonyng.

Yeve it in yift al quyt fully,

And make thi yift debonairly,

For men that yift holde more dere

That yeven [is. with gladsom chere.

That yift nought to preisen is

That man yeveth maugre his.

Whanne thou hast yeven thyn herte, as I

Have seid thee heere openly,

Thanne aventures shull thee falle,

2390 Which harde and hevy ben withalle.

For ofte whan thou bithenkist thee

Of thy lovyng, whereso thou be,

Fro folk thou must departe in hie,

That noon perceyve thi maladie.

But hyde thyne harm thou must alone,

And go forth sool, and make thy mone.

Thou shalt no whyle be in o stat,

But whylom cold and whilom hat,

Now reed as rose, now yelowe and fade.

2400 Such sorowe, I trowe, thou never hade;

Cotidien ne quarteyne,

It is nat so ful of peyne.

For often tymes it shal falle

In love, among thy paynes alle,

That thou thyself al holly

Foryeten shalt so utterly

That many tymes thou shalt be

Styl as an ymage of tree,

Domm as a ston, without steryng

2410 Of fot or hond, without spekyng.

Than, soone after al thy payn,

To memorye shalt thou come agayn,

As man abasshed wonder sore,

And after syghen more and more.

For wyt thou wel, withouten wen,

In such astat ful ofte have ben

That have the yvel of love assayd

Wherthrough thou art so dismayd.

"After, a thought shal take the so,

2420 That thy love is to fer the fro.

Thou shalt saye, `God! what may this be,

That I ne may my lady se?

Myn herte alone is to her go,

And I abyde al sol in wo,

Departed fro myn owne thought,

And with myne eyen se right nought.

Alas, myne eyen sende I ne may

My careful herte to convay!

Myn hertes gyde but they be,

2430 I prayse nothyng, whatever they se.

Shul they abyde thanne? Nay;

But gon and visyten without delay

That myn herte desyreth so.

For certainly, but if they go,

A fool myself I may wel holde,

Whan I ne se what myn herte wolde.

Wherfore I wol gon her to sen,

Or eased shal I never ben,

But I have som tokenyng.'

2440 Than gost thou forth without dwellyng;

But ofte thou faylest of thy desyr,

Er thou mayst come her any ner,

And wastest in vayn thi passage.

Thanne fallest thou in a newe rage;

For want of sight thou gynnest morne,

And homward pensyf thou dost retorne.

In greet myscheef thanne shalt thou bee,

For thanne agayn shall come to thee

Sighes and pleyntes with newe woo,

2450 That no ycchyng prikketh soo.

Who wot it nought, he may go lere

Of hem that bien love so dere.

"Nothyng thyn herte appesen may

That ofte thou wolt goon and assay

If thou maist seen, by aventure,

Thi lyves joy, thin hertis cure;

So that, bi grace, if thou myght

Atteyne of hire to have a sight,

Thanne shalt thou don noon other dede,

2460 But with that sight thyne eyen fede.

That faire fresh whanne thou maist see,

Thyne herte shall so ravysshed be

That nevere thou woldest, thi thankis, lete,

Ne remove for to see that swete.

The more thou seest in sothfastnesse,

The more thou coveytest of that swetnesse;

The more thin herte brenneth in fir,

The more thin herte is in desir.

For who considreth everydeell,

2470 It may be likned wondir well,

The peyne of love, unto a fer;

For evermore thou neighest ner,

Thou, or whooso that it bee,

For verray sothe I tell it thee,

The hatter evere shall thou brenne,

As experience shall thee kenne:

Whereso [thou] comest in ony coost,

Who is next fyr, he brenneth moost.

And yitt forsothe, for all thin hete,

2480 Though thou for love swelte and swete,

Ne for nothyng thou felen may,

Thou shalt not willen to passen away.

And though thou go, yitt must thee nede

Thenke all day on hir fairhede

Whom thou biheelde with so good will,

And holde thisilf biguyled ill

That thou ne haddest noon hardement

To shewe hir ought of thyn entent.

Thyn herte full sore thou wolt dispise,

2490 And eke repreve of cowardise,

That thou, so dul in every thing,

Were domm for drede, withoute spekyng.

Thou shalt eke thenke thou didest folye

That thou were hir so faste bye,

And durst not auntre thee to saye

Somthyng er thou cam awaye;

For thou haddist no more wonne,

To speke of hir whanne thou bigonne.

But yitt she wolde, for thy sake,

2500 In armes goodly thee have take --

It shulde have be more worth to thee

Than of tresour gret plente.

Thus shalt thou morne and eke compleyn,

And gete enchesoun to goon ageyn

Unto thi walk, or to thi place

Where thou biheelde hir fleshly face.

And never, for fals suspeccioun,

Thou woldest fynde occasioun

For to gon unto hire hous.

2510 So art thou thanne desirous

A sight of hir for to have,

If thou thin honour myghtist save,

Or ony erande myghtist make

Thider for thi loves sake,

Full fayn thou woldist, but for drede

Thou gost not, lest that men take hede.

Wherfore I rede, in thi goyng,

And also in thyn ageyn-comyng,

Thou be well war that men ne wit.

2520 Feyne thee other cause than it

To go that weye, or faste by;

To hele wel is no foly.

And if so be it happe thee

That thou thi love there maist see,

In siker wise thou hir salewe,

Wherewith thi colour wole transmewe,

And eke thy blod shal al toquake,

Thyn hewe eke chaungen for hir sake.

But word and wit, with chere full pale,

2530 Shull wante for to tell thy tale.

And if thou maist so fer forth wynne

That thou resoun durst bigynne,

And woldist seyn thre thingis or mo,

Thou shalt full scarsly seyn the two.

Though thou bithenke thee never so well,

Thou shalt foryete yit somdell,

But if thou dele with trecherie.

For fals lovers mowe all folye

Seyn, what hem lust, withouten drede,

2540 They be so double in her falshede;

For they in herte cunne thenke a thyng,

And seyn another in her spekyng.

And whanne thi speche is eendid all,

Ryght thus to thee it shall byfall:

If ony word thanne come to mynde

That thou to seye hast left bihynde,

Thanne thou shalt brenne in gret martir,

For thou shalt brenne as ony fir.

This is the stryf and eke the affray,

2550 And the batell that lastith ay.

This bargeyn eende may never take,

But if that she thi pees will make.

And whanne the nyght is comen, anoon

A thousand angres shall come uppon.

To bedde as fast thou wolt thee dight,

Where thou shalt have but smal delit.

For whanne thou wenest for to slepe,

So full of peyne shalt thou crepe,

Sterte in thi bed aboute full wide,

2560 And turne full ofte on every side,

Now dounward groff and now upright,

And walowe in woo the longe nyght.

Thine armys shalt thou sprede a-bred,

As man in werre were forwerreyd.

Thanne shall thee come a remembraunce

Of hir shap and hir semblaunce,

Whereto non other may be pere.

And wite thou wel, withoute were,

That thee shal se[me] somtyme that nyght

2570 That thou hast hir that is so bright

Naked bitwene thyne armes there,

All sothfastnesse as though it were.

Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne

And dreme of joye, all but in vayne,

And thee deliten of right nought,

While thou so slombrest in that thought

That is so swete and delitable,

The which, in soth, nys but fable,

For it ne shall no while laste.

2580 Thanne shalt thou sighe and wepe faste,

And say, `Dere God, what thing is this?

My drem is turned all amys,

Which was full swete and apparent;

But now I wake, it is al shent!

Now yede this mery thought away!

Twenty tymes upon a day

I wolde this thought wolde come ageyn,

For it aleggith well my peyn.

It makith me full of joyfull thought;

2590 It sleth me, that it lastith noght.

A, Lord! Why nyl ye me socoure

The joye, I trowe, that I langoure?

The deth I wolde me shulde sloo

While I lye in hir armes twoo.

Myn harm is hard, withouten wene;

My gret unese full ofte I meene.

"`But wolde Love do so I myght

Have fully joye of hir so bright,

My peyne were quyt me rychely.

2600 Allas, to gret a thing aske I!

Hit is but foly and wrong wenyng

To aske so outrageous a thyng;

And whoso askith folily,

He mot be warned hastily.

And I ne wot what I may say,

I am so fer out of the way;

For I wolde have full gret likyng

And full gret joye of lasse thing.

For wolde she, of hir gentylnesse,

2610 Without and more, me oonys kysse,

It were to me a gret guerdoun,

Relees of all my passioun.

But it is hard to come therto;

All is but folye that I do,

So high I have myn herte set,

Where I may no comfort get.

I wote not wher I seye well or nought,

But this I wot wel in my thought,

That it were better of hir alloone,

2620 For to stynte my woo and moone,

A lok on hir I caste goodly,

Than for to have al utterly

Of an other all hool the pley.

A, Lord! Wher I shall byde the day

That evere she shall my lady be?

He is full cured that may hir see.

A, God! Whanne shal the dawnyng spring?

To liggen thus is an angry thyng;

I have no joye thus heere to ly,

2630 Whanne that my love is not me by.

A man to lyen hath gret disese,

Which may not slepe ne reste in ese.

I wolde it dawed, and were now day,

And that the nyght were went away;

For were it day, I wolde uprise.

A, slowe sonne, shewe thin enprise!

Sped thee to sprede thy beemys bright,

And chace the derknesse of the nyght,

To putte away the stoundes stronge,

2640 Whiche in me lasten all to longe.'

"The nyght shalt thou contene soo

Withoute rest, in peyne and woo.

If evere thou knewe of love distresse,

Thou shalt mowe lerne in that siknesse,

And thus enduryng shalt thou ly,

And ryse on morwe up erly

Out of thy bedde, and harneyse thee,

Er evere dawnyng thou maist see.

All pryvyly thanne shalt thou goon,

2650 What weder it be, thisilf alloon,

For reyn or hayl, for snow, for slet,

Thider she dwellith that is so swet,

The which may fall a-slepe be,

And thenkith but lytel upon thee.

Thanne shalt thou goon, ful foule afeered,

Loke if the gate be unspered,

And waite without in woo and peyn,

Full yvel a-coold, in wynd and reyn.

Thanne shal thou go the dore bifore,

2660 If thou maist fynde ony score,

Or hool, or reeft, whatevere it were;

Thanne shalt thou stoupe and lay to ere,

If they withynne a-slepe be --

I mene all save the lady free,

Whom wakyng if thou maist aspie,

Go putte thisilf in jupartie

To aske grace, and thee bimene,

That she may wite, without wene,

That thou [a-]nyght no rest hast had,

2670 So sore for hir thou were bystad.

Wommen wel ought pite to take

Of hem that sorwen for her sake.

And loke, for love of that relyk,

That thou thenke noon other lyk,

For whom thou hast so gret annoy,

Shall kysse thee, er thou go away,

And holde that in full gret deynte.

And for that no man shal thee see

Bifore the hous ne in the way,

2680 Loke thou be goon ageyn er day.

Such comyng and such goyng,

Such hevynesse and such wakyng,

Makith lovers, withouten ony wene,

Under her clothes pale and lene.

For Love leveth colour ne cleernesse;

Who loveth trewe hath no fatnesse.

Thou shalt wel by thysilf see

That thou must nedis assayed be.

For men that shape hem other wey

2690 Falsly her ladyes for to bitray,

It is no wonder though they be fatt;

With false othes her loves they gatt.

For oft I see suche losengours

Fatter than abbatis or priours.

"Yit with o thing I thee charge,

That is to seye, that thou be large

Unto the mayde that hir doth serve,

So best hir thank thou shalt deserve.

Yeve hir yiftes, and get hir grace,

2700 For so thou may thank purchace,

That she thee worthy holde and free,

Thi lady, and all that may thee see.

Also hir servauntes worshipe ay,

And please as mych as thou may;

Gret good thorough hem may come to thee

Bicause with hir they ben pryve.

They shal hir telle hou they thee fand

Curteis, and wys, and well doand,

And she shall preise well the mare.

2710 Loke oute of londe thou be not fare,

And if such cause thou have that thee

Bihoveth to gon out of contree,

Leve hool thin herte in hostage,

Till thou ageyn make thi passage.

Thenk long to see the swete thyng

That hath thin herte in hir kepyng.

"Now have I told thee in what wise

A lovere shall do me servise.

Do it thanne, if thou wolt have

2720 The meede that thou aftir crave."

Whanne Love all this hadde boden me,

I seide hym: "Sire, how may it be

That lovers may in such manere

Endure the peyne ye have seid heere?

I merveyle me wonder faste

How ony man may lyve or laste

In such peyne and such brennyng,

In sorwe and thought and such sighing,

Ay unrelesed woo to make,

2730 Whether so it be they slepe or wake,

In such annoy contynuely --

As helpe me God, this merveile I

How man, but he were maad of stele,

Myght lyve a month, such peynes to fele."

The God of Love thanne seide me:

"Freend, by the feith I owe to thee,

May no man have good, but he it by.

A man loveth more tendirly

The thyng that he hath bought most dere.

2740 For wite thou well, withouten were,

In thank that thyng is taken more,

For which a man hath suffred sore.

Certis, no wo ne may atteyne

Unto the sore of loves peyne;

Noon yvel therto ne may amounte,

No more than a man [may] counte

The dropes that of the water be.

For drye as well the greete see

Thou myghtist as the harmes telle

2750 Of hem that with love dwelle

In servyse, for peyne hem sleeth.

And yet ech man wolde fle the deeth,

And trowe thei shulde nevere escape,

Nere that hope couth. hem make

Glad, as man in prisoun sett,

And may not geten for to et

But barly breed and watir pure,

And lyeth in vermyn and in ordure;

With all this yitt can he lyve,

2760 Good hope such comfort hath hym yive,

Which maketh wene that he shall be

Delyvered, and come to liberte.

In fortune is [his] fulle trust,

Though he lye in strawe or dust;

In hoope is all his susteynyng.

And so for lovers, in her wenyng,

Whiche Love hath shit in his prisoun,

Good hope is her salvacioun.

Good hope, how sore that they smerte,

2770 Yeveth hem bothe will and herte

To profre her body to martire;

For hope so sore doth hem desire

To suffre ech harm that men devise,

For joye that aftirward shall aryse.

"Hope in desir caccheth victorie;

In hope of love is all the glorie;

For hope is all that love may yive;

Nere hope, ther shulde no lover lyve.

Blessid be hope, which with desir

2780 Avaunceth lovers in such maner!

Good hope is curteis for to please,

To kepe lovers from all disese.

Hope kepith his bond, and wole abide,

For ony perill that may betyde;

For hope to lovers, as most cheef,

Doth hem endure all myscheef;

Hope is her helpe whanne myster is.

"And I shall yeve thee eke, iwys,

Three other thingis that gret solas

2790 Doth to hem that be in my las.

The firste good that may be founde

To hem that in my las be bounde

Is Swete-Thought, for to recorde

Thing wherwith thou canst accorde

Best in thyn herte, where she be --

Thenkyng in absence is good to thee.

Whanne ony lover doth compleyne,

And lyveth in distresse and in peyne,

Thanne Swete-Thought shal come as blyve

2800 Awey his angre for to dryve:

It makith lovers to have remembraunce

Of comfort and of high plesaunce

That Hope hath hight hym for to wynne.

For Thought anoon thanne shall bygynne,

As fer, God wot, as he can fynde,

To make a mirrour of his mynde;

For to biholde he wole not lette.

Hir persone he shall afore hym sette,

Hir laughing eyen, persaunt and clere,

2810 Hir shape, hir forme, hir goodly chere,

Hir mouth, that is so gracious,

So swete and eke so saverous;

Of all hir fetures he shall take heede,

His eyen with all hir lymes fede.

"Thus Swete-Thenkyng shall aswage

The peyne of lovers and her rage.

Thi joye shall double, withoute gesse,

Whanne thou thenkist on hir semlynesse,

Or of hir laughing, or of hir chere,

2820 That to thee made thi lady dere.

This comfort wole I that thou take;

And if the next thou wolt forsake,

Which is not lesse saverous,

Thou shuldist ben to daungerous.

"The secounde shal be Swete-Speche,

That hath to many oon be leche,

To bringe hem out of woo and wer,

And holpe many a bachiler,

And many a lady sent socour,

2830 That have loved paramour,

Thorough spekyng, whanne they myghte heere

Of her lovers to hem so dere.

To hem it voidith all her smerte,

The which is closed in her herte.

In herte it makith hem glad and light,

Speche, whanne they [ne] mowe have sight.

And therfore now it cometh to mynde,

In olde dawes, as I fynde,

That clerkis writen that hir knewe,

2840 Ther was a lady fresh of hewe,

Which of hir love made a song

On hym for to remembre among,

In which she seyde, `Whanne that I here

Speken of hym that is so dere,

To me it voidith all smert,

Iwys, he sittith so ner myn hert.

To speke of hym, at eve or morwe,

It cureth me of all my sorwe.

To me is noon so high plesaunce

2850 As of his persone dalyaunce.'

She wist full well that Swete-Spekyng

Comfortith in full myche thyng.

Hir love she hadde full well assayed;

Of him she was full well apaied;

To speke of hym hir joye was sett.

Therfore I rede thee that thou gett

A felowe that can well concele,

And kepe thi counsell, and well hele,

To whom go shewe hoolly thine herte,

2860 Bothe wele and woo, joye and smerte.

To gete comfort to hym thou goo,

And pryvyly, bitwene yow twoo,

Yee shall speke of that goodly thyng

That hath thyn herte in hir kepyng,

Of hir beaute and hir semblaunce

And of hir goodly countenaunce.

Of all thi stat thou shalt hym sey,

And aske hym counseill how thou may

Do ony thyng that may hir plese;

2870 For it to thee shall do gret ese

That he may wite thou trust hym soo,

Bothe of thi wele and of thi woo.

And if his herte to love be sett,

His companye is myche the bett,

For resoun wole he shewe to thee

All uttirly his pryvyte;

And what she is he loveth so,

To thee pleynly he shal undo,

Withoute drede of ony shame,

2880 Bothe tell hir renoun and hir name.

Thanne shall he forther, fer and ner,

And namely to thi lady der,

In syker wise; yee, every other

Shall helpen as his owne brother,

In trouthe withoute doublenesse,

And kepen cloos in sikernesse.

For it is noble thing, in fay,

To have a man thou darst say

Thy pryve counsell every deell;

2890 For that wole comforte thee right well,

And thou shalt holde thee well apayed,

Whanne such a freend thou hast assayed.

"The thridde good of gret comfort,

That yeveth to lovers most disport,

Comyth of sight and of biholdyng,

That clepid is Swete-Lokyng,

The whiche may noon ese do

Whanne thou art fer thy lady fro;

Wherfore thou prese alwey to be

2900 In place where thou maist hir see.

For it is thyng most amerous,

Most delytable and saverous,

For to aswage a mannes sorowe,

To sen his lady by the morwe.

For it is a full noble thing,

Whanne thyne eyen have metyng

With that relike precious,

Wherof they be so desirous.

But al day after, soth it is,

2910 They have no drede to faren amys;

They dreden neither wynd ne reyn,

Ne noon other maner peyn.

For whanne thyne eyen were thus in blis,

Yit of hir curtesie, ywys,

Alloone they can not have her joye,

But to the herte they [it] convoye;

Part of her blisse to hym they sende,

Of all this harm to make an ende.

The eye is a good messanger,

2920 Which can to the herte in such maner

Tidyngis sende that [he] hath sen,

To voide hym of his peynes clen.

Wherof the herte rejoiseth soo,

That a gret party of his woo

Is voided and put awey to flight.

Right as the derknesse of the nyght

Is chased with clernesse of the mone,

Right so is al his woo full soone

Devoided clene, whanne that the sight

2930 Biholden may that freshe wight

That the herte desireth soo,

That al his derknesse is agoo.

For thanne the herte is all at ese,

Whanne the eyen sen that may hem plese.

"Now have I declared thee all oute

Of that thou were in drede and doute;

For I have told thee feithfully

What thee may curen utterly,

And alle lovers that wole be

2940 Feithfull and full of stabilite.

Good-Hope alwey kep bi thi side,

And Swete-Thought make eke abide,

Swete-Lokyng and Swete-Speche --

Of all thyne harmes thei shall be leche,

Of every thou shalt have gret plesaunce.

If thou canst bide in sufferaunce,

And serve wel withoute feyntise,

Thou shalt be quyt of thyn emprise

With more guerdoun, if that thou lyve;

2950 But at this tyme this I thee yive."

The God of Love whanne al the day

Had taught me, as ye have herd say,

And enfourmed compendiously,

He vanyshide awey all sodeynly,

And I alloone lefte, all sool,

So full of compleynt and of dool,

For I saw no man there me by.

My woundes me greved wondirly;

Me for to curen nothyng I knew,

2960 Save the botoun bright of hew,

Wheron was sett hoolly my thought.

Of other comfort knew I nought,

But it were thorugh the God of Love;

I knew not elles to my bihove

That myght me ease or comfort gete,

But if he wolde hym entermete.

The roser was, withoute doute,

Closed with an hegge withoute,

As ye toforn have herd me seyn;

2970 And fast I bisiede, and wolde fayn

Have passed the hay, if I myghte

Have geten ynne by ony slighte

Unto the botoun so faire to see.

But evere I dradde blamed to be,

If men wolde have suspeccioun

That I wolde of entencioun

Have stole the roses that there were;

Therfore to entre I was in fere.

But at the last, as I bithought

2980 Whether I shulde passe or nought,

I saw come with a glad cher

To me, a lusty bacheler,

Of good stature and of good highte,

And Bialacoil forsothe he highte.

Sone he was to Curtesy,

And he me grauntide full gladly

The passage of the outter hay,

And seide: "Sir, how that yee may

Passe, if youre wille be

2990 The freshe roser for to see,

And yee the swete savour fele.

Youre warrant may [I] [be] right wele;

So thou thee kepe fro folye,

Shall no man do thee vylanye.

If I may helpe you in ought,

I shall not feyne, dredeth nought,

For I am bounde to youre servise,

Fully devoide of feyntise."

Thanne unto Bialacoil saide I,

3000 "I thanke you, sir, full hertely,

And youre biheeste take at gre,

That ye so goodly profer me.

To you it cometh of gret fraunchise

That ye me profer youre servise."

Thanne aftir, full delyverly,

Thorough the breres anoon wente I,

Wherof encombred was the hay.

I was wel plesed, the soth to say,

To se the botoun faire and swote

3010 So freshe spronge out of the rote.

And Bialacoil me served well,

Whanne I so nygh me myghte fel

Of the botoun the swete odour,

And so lusty hewed of colour.

But thanne a cherl (foule hym bityde!)

Biside the roses gan hym hyde,

To kepe the roses of that roser,

Of whom the name was Daunger.

This cherl was hid there in the greves,

3020 Kovered with gras and with leves,

To spie and take whom that he fond

Unto that roser putte an hond.

He was not sool, for ther was moo,

For with hym were other twoo

Of wikkid maners and yvel fame.

That oon was clepid, by his name,

Wykked-Tonge -- God yeve hym sorwe! --

For neither at eve ne at morwe,

He can of no man good speke;

3030 On many a just man doth he wreke.

Ther was a womman eke that hight

Shame, that, who can reken right,

Trespas was hir fadir name,

Hir moder Resoun; and thus was Shame

Brought of these ilke twoo.

And yitt hadde Trespas never adoo

With Resoun, ne never ley hir by,

He was so hidous and so ugly,

I mene this that Trespas highte;

3040 But Resoun conceyveth of a sighte

Shame, of that I spak aforn.

And whanne that Shame was thus born,

It was ordeyned that Chastite

Shulde of the roser lady be,

Which, of the botouns more and las,

With sondry folk assailed was,

That she ne wiste what to doo.

For Venus hir assailith soo,

That nyght and day from hir she stal

3050 Botouns and roses overal.

To Resoun thanne praieth Chastite,

Whom Venus hath flemed over the see,

That she hir doughter wolde hir lene,

To kepe the roser fresh and grene.

Anoon Resoun to Chastite

Is fully assented that it be,

And grauntide hir, at hir request,

That Shame, by cause she [is. honest,

Shall keper of the roser be.

3060 And thus to kepe it ther were three,

That noon shulde hardy be ne bold,

Were he yong or were he old,

Ageyn hir will awey to bere

Botouns ne roses that there were.

I hadde wel sped, hadde I not ben

Awayted with these three and sen.

For Bialacoil, that was so fair,

So gracious and debonair,

Quytt hym to me full curteisly,

3070 And, me to plese, bad that I

Shulde drawe me to the botoun ner;

Prese in, to touche the roser

Which bar the roses, he yaf me leve;

This graunt ne myght but lytel greve.

And for he saw it liked me,

Ryght nygh the botoun pullede he

A leef all grene, and yaff me that,

The whiche ful nygh the botoun sat.

I made [me] of that leef full queynt,

3080 And whanne I felte I was aqueynt

With Bialacoil, and so pryve,

I wende all at my will hadde be.

Thanne wax I hardy for to tel

To Bialacoil hou me bifel

Of Love, that tok and wounded me,

And seide, "Sir, so mote I thee,

I may no joye have in no wise,

Uppon no side, but it rise.

For sithe (if I shall not feyne)

3090 In herte I have had so gret peyne,

So gret annoy and such affray,

That I ne wot what I shall say;

I drede youre wrath to disserve.

Lever me were that knyves kerve

My body shulde in pecys smale,

Than in any wise it shulde falle

That ye wratthed shulde ben with me."

"Sey boldely thi will," quod he,

"I nyl be wroth, if that I may,

3100 For nought that thou shalt to me say."

Thanne seide I, "Ser, not you displease

To knowen of my gret unese,

In which oonly Love hath me brought;

For peynes gret, disese, and thought

Fro day to day he doth me drye;

Supposeth not, sir, that I lye.

In me fyve woundes dide he make,

The soore of whiche shall nevere slake,

But ye the botoun graunte me,

3110 Which is moost passaunt of beaute,

My lyf, my deth, and my martire,

And tresour that I moost desire."

Thanne Bialacoil, affrayed all,

Seyde, "Sir, it may not fall;

That ye desire, it may not arise.

What? Wolde ye shende me in this wise?

A mochel fool thanne I were,

If I suffride you awey to bere

The fresh botoun so faire of sight.

3120 For it were neither skile ne right,

Of the roser ye broke the rynde,

Or take the Rose aforn his kynde.

Ye are not curteys to aske it.

Late it still on the roser sitt

And growe til it amended be,

And parfytly come to beaute.

I nolde not that it pulled were

Fro the roser that it bere,

To me it is so leef and deer."

3130 With that sterte oute anoon Daunger,

Out of the place were he was hid.

His malice in his chere was kid;

Full gret he was and blak of hewe,

Sturdy and hidous, whoso hym knewe;

Like sharp urchouns his her was growe;

His nose frounced, full kirked stood.

He com criand as he were wood,

And seide, "Bialacoil, telle me why

3140 Thou bryngest hider so booldely

Hym that so nygh [is. the roser?

Thou worchist in a wrong maner.

He thenkith to dishonoure thee;

Thou art wel worthy to have maugree

To late hym of the roser wit.

Who serveth a feloun is yvel quit.

Thou woldist have doon gret bounte,

And he with shame wolde quyte thee.

Fle hennes, felowe! I rede thee goo!

3150 It wanteth litel I wole thee sloo.

For Bialacoil ne knew thee nought,

Whanne thee to serve he sette his thought;

For thou wolt shame hym, if thou myght,

Bothe ageyns resoun and right.

I wole no more in thee affye,

That comest so slyghly for t' espye;

For it preveth wonder well,

Thy slight and tresoun, every deell."

I durst no more there make abod

3160 For the cherl, he was so wod,

So gan he threte and manace,

And thurgh the haye he dide me chace.

For feer of hym I tremblyde and quok,

So cherlishly his heed it shok,

And seide, if eft he myght me take,

I shulde not from his hondis scape.

Thanne Bialacoil is fled and mat,

And I, all sool, disconsolat,

Was left aloone in peyne and thought;

3170 For shame to deth I was nygh brought.

Thanne thought I on myn high foly,

How that my body utterly

Was yeve to peyne and to martire;

And therto hadde I so gret ire,

That I ne durst the hayes passe.

There was noon hope; there was no grace.

I trowe nevere man wiste of peyne,

But he were laced in loves cheyne;

Ne no man [wot], and sooth it is,

3180 But if he love, what anger is.

Love holdith his heest to me right wel,

Whanne peyne he seide I shulde fel;

Noon herte may thenke, ne tunge seyn,

A quarter of my woo and peyn.

I myght not with the anger laste;

Myn herte in poynt was for to braste,

Whanne I thought on the Rose, that soo

Was thurgh Daunger cast me froo.

A long while stod I in that stat,

3190 Til that me saugh so mad and mat

The lady of the highe ward,

Which from hir tour lokide thiderward.

Resoun men clepe that lady,

Which from hir tour delyverly

Com doun to me, withouten mor.

But she was neither yong ne hoor,

Ne high ne lowe, ne fat ne lene,

But best as it were in a mene.

Hir eyen twoo were cleer and light

3200 As ony candell that brenneth bright;

And on hir heed she hadde a crowne.

Hir semede wel an high persoune,

For round enviroun, hir crownet

Was full of riche stonys frett.

Hir goodly semblaunt, by devys,

I trowe were maad in paradys,

For Nature hadde nevere such a grace,

To forge a werk of such compace.

For certeyn, but if the letter ly,

3210 God hymsilf, that is so high,

Made hir aftir his ymage,

And yaff hir sith sich avauntage

That she hath myght and seignorie

To kepe men from all folye.

Whoso wole trowe hir lore,

Ne may offenden nevermore.

And while I stod thus derk and pale,

Resoun bigan to me hir tale.

She seide, "Al hayl, my swete freend!

3220 Foly and childhood wol thee sheend,

Which the have putt in gret affray.

Thou hast bought deere the tyme of May,

That made thyn herte mery to be.

In yvell tyme thou wentist to see

The gardyn, whereof Ydilnesse

Bar the keye and was maistresse,

Whanne thou yedest in the daunce

With hir, and haddest aqueyntaunce.

Hir aqueyntaunce is perilous,

3230 First softe, and aftir noious;

She hath [thee] trasshed, withoute wen.

The God of Love hadde the not sen,

Ne hadde Ydilnesse thee conveyed

In the verger where Myrthe hym pleyed.

If foly have supprised thee,

Do so that it recovered be,

And be wel ware to take nomore

Counsel, that greveth aftir sore.

He is wis that wol hymsilf chastise.

3240 And though a yong man in ony wise

Trespace among, and do foly,

Late hym not tarye, but hastily

Late hym amende what so be mys.

And eke I counseile thee, iwys,

The God of Love hoolly foryet,

That hath thee in sich peyne set,

And thee in herte tourmented soo.

I can [nat] sen how thou maist goo

Other weyes to garisoun;

3250 For Daunger, that is so feloun,

Felly purposith thee to werreye,

Which is ful cruel, the soth to seye.

"And yitt of Daunger cometh no blame,

In reward of my doughter Shame,

Which hath the roses in hir ward,

As she that may be no musard.

And Wikked-Tunge is with these two,

That suffrith no man thider goo;

For er a thing be do, he shall,

3260 Where that he cometh, overall,

In fourty places, if it be sought,

Seye thyng that nevere was don ne wrought;

So moche tresoun is in his male

Of falsnesse, for to seyne a tale.

Thou delest with angry folk, ywis;

Wherfore to thee bettir is

From these folk awey to fare,

For they wole make thee lyve in care.

This is the yvell that love they call,

3270 Wherynne ther is but foly al,

For love is foly everydell.

Who loveth in no wise may do well,

Ne sette his thought on no good werk.

His scole he lesith, if he be a clerk.

Of other craft eke if he be,

He shal not thryve therynne, for he

In love shal have more passioun

Than monk, hermyte, or chanoun.

The peyne is hard, out [of] mesure;

3280 The joye may eke no while endure;

And in the possessioun

Is myche tribulacioun.

The joye it is so short lastyng,

And but in hap is the getyng;

For I see there many in travaille,

That atte laste foule fayle.

I was nothyng thi counseler,

Whanne thou were maad the omager

Of God of Love to hastily;

3290 Ther was no wisdom, but foly.

Thyn herte was joly but not sage,

Whanne thou were brought in sich a rage

To yelde thee so redily,

And to leve of is gret maistry.

"I rede thee Love awey to dryve,

That makith thee recche not of thi lyve.

The foly more fro day to day

Shal growe, but thou it putte away.

Tak with thy teeth the bridel faste,

3300 To daunte thyn herte, and eke thee caste,

If that thou maist, to gete thee defence

For to redresse thi first offence.

Whoso his herte alwey wol leve,

Shal fynde among that shal hym greve."

Whanne I hir herd thus me chastise,

I answerd in ful angry wise.

I prayed hir ceessen of hir speche,

Outher to chastise me or teche,

To bidde me my thought refreyne,

3310 Which Love hath caught in his demeyne:

"What? Wene ye Love wol consent,

That me assailith with bowe bent,

To drawe myn herte out of his hond,

Which is so qwikly in his bond?

That ye counseyle may nevere be,

For whanne he first arestide me,

He took myn herte so hool hym till,

That it is nothyng at my wil.

He taught it so hym for to obeye,

3320 That he it sparrede with a keye.

I pray yow, late me be all stille.

For ye may well, if that ye wille,

Youre wordis waste in idilnesse;

For utterly, withouten gesse,

All that ye seyn is but in veyne.

Me were lever dye in the peyne,

Than Love to me-ward shulde arette

Falsheed, or tresoun on me sette.

I wole me gete prys or blame,

3330 And love trewe, to save my name.

Who that me chastisith, I hym hate."

With that word Resoun wente hir gate,

Whanne she saugh for no sermonynge

She myght me fro my foly brynge.

Thanne dismaied, I lefte all sool,

Forwery, forwandred as a fool,

For I ne knew no chevisaunce.

Thanne fell into my remembraunce

How Love bad me to purveye

3340 A felowe to whom I myghte seye

My counsell and my pryvete,

For that shulde moche availe me.

With that bithought I me that I

Hadde a felowe faste by,

Trewe and siker, curteys and hend,

And he was called by name a Freend --

A trewer felowe was nowher noon.

In haste to hym I wente anoon,

And to hym all my woo I tolde;

3350 Fro hym right nought I wold witholde.

I tolde hym all, withoute wer,

And made my compleynt on Daunger,

How for to see he was hidous,

And to me-ward contrarious,

The whiche thurgh his cruelte

Was in poynt to [have] meygned me.

With Bialacoil whanne he me sey

Withynne the gardeyn walke and pley,

Fro me he made hym for to go.

3360 And I, bilefte aloone in woo,

I durst no lenger with hym speke,

For Daunger seide he wolde be wreke,

Whanne that he saw how I wente

The freshe botoun for to hente,

If I were hardy to come neer

Bitwene the hay and the roser.

This freend, whanne he wiste of my thought,

He discomforted me right nought,

But seide, "Felowe, be not so mad,

3370 Ne so abaysshed nor bystad.

Mysilf I knowe full well Daunger,

And how he is feers of his cheer,

At prime temps, love to manace;

Ful ofte I have ben in his caas.

A feloun first though that he be,

Aftir thou shalt hym souple se.

Of longe passed I knew hym well;

Ungoodly first though men hym feel,

He wol meke aftir in his beryng

3380 Been, for service and obeysshyng.

I shal thee telle what thou shalt doo.

Mekely I rede thou go hym to,

Of herte pray hym specialy

Of thy trespas to have mercy,

And hote hym wel, here to plese,

That thou shalt nevermore hym displese.

Who can best serve of flatery,

Shall please Daunger most uttirly."

Mi freend hath seid to me so wel

3390 That he me esid hath somdell,

And eke allegged of my torment;

For thurgh hym had I hardement

Agayn to Daunger for to go,

To preve if I myght meke hym soo.

To Daunger came I all ashamed,

The which aforn me hadde blamed,

Desiryng for to pese my woo,

But over hegge durst I not goo,

For he forbed me the passage.

3400 I fond hym cruel in his rage,

And in his hond a gret burdoun.

To hym I knelide lowe adoun,

Ful meke of port and symple of chere,

And seide, "Sir, I am comen heere

Oonly to aske of you mercy.

That greveth me full gretly

That evere my lyf I wratthed you;

But for to amenden I am come now,

With all my myght, bothe loude and stille,

3410 To doon right at youre owne wille.

For Love made me for to doo

That I have trespassed hidirto,

Fro whom I ne may withdrawe myn hert.

Yit shall [I] never, for joy ne smert,

What so bifalle, good or ill,

Offende more ageyn youre will.

Lever I have endure disese,

Than do that you shulde displese.

"I you require and pray that ye

3420 Of me have mercy and pitee,

To stynte your ire that greveth soo,

That I wol swere for ever mo

To be redressid at youre likyng,

If I trespasse in ony thyng.

Save that I pray thee graunte me

A thyng that may not warned be,

That I may love, all oonly;

Noon other thyng of you aske I.

I shall doon elles well, iwys,

3430 If of youre grace ye graunte me this.

And ye may not letten me,

For wel wot ye that love is free,

And I shall loven, sithen that I will,

Who ever like it well or ill;

And yit ne wold I, for all Fraunce,

Do thyng to do you displesaunce."

Thanne Daunger fil in his entent

For to foryeve his maltalent;

But all his wratthe yit at laste

3440 He hath relesed, I preyde so faste.

Shortly he seide, "Thy request

Is not to mochel dishonest,

Ne I wole not werne it thee,

For yit nothyng engreveth me.

For though thou love thus evermor,

To me is neither softe ne soor.

Love where that the list -- what recchith me,

So [thou] fer fro my roses be?

Trust not on me, for noon assay,

3450 If ony tyme thou passe the hay."

Thus hath he graunted my praiere.

Thanne wente I forth, withouten were,

Unto my freend, and tolde hym all,

Which was right joyful of my tall.

He seide, "Now goth wel thyn affaire.

He shall to thee be debonaire;

Though he aforn was dispitous,

He shall heere aftir be gracious.

If he were touchid on som good veyne,

3460 He shuld yit rewen on thi peyne.

Suffre, I rede, and no boost make,

Till thou at good mes maist hym take.

By sufferaunce and wordis softe

A man may overcome ofte

Hym that aforn he hadde in drede,

In bookis sothly as I rede."

Thus hath my freend with gret comfort

Avaunced [me] with high disport,

Which wolde me good as mych as I.

3470 And thanne anoon full sodeynly

I tok my leve, and streight I went

Unto the hay, for gret talent

I hadde to sen the fresh botoun

Wherynne lay my salvacioun;

And Daunger tok kep if that I

Kepe hym covenaunt trewely.

So sore I dradde his manasyng,

I durst not breke his biddyng;

For, lest that I were of hym shent,

3480 I brak not his comaundement,

For to purchase his good wil.

It was [nat] for to come ther-til;

His mercy was to fer bihynde.

I wepte for I ne myght it fynde.

I compleyned and sighed sore,

And langwisshed evermore,

For I durst not over goo

Unto the Rose I loved soo.

Thurgh my demenyng outerly

3490 Than he had knowledge certanly

That Love me ladde in sich a wise

That in me ther was no feyntise,

Falsheed, ne no trecherie.

And yit he, full of vylanye,

Of disdeyn, and cruelte,

On me ne wolde have pite,

His cruel will for to refreyne,

Though I wepe alwey, and me compleyne.

And while I was in this torment,

3500 Were come of grace, by God sent,

Fraunchise, and with hir Pite.

Fulfild the bothen of bounte,

They go to Daunger anoon-right

To forther me with all her myght,

And helpe in worde and in dede,

For well they saugh that it was nede.

First, of hir grace, dame Fraunchise

Hath taken [word] of this emprise.

She seide, "Daunger, gret wrong ye do,

3510 To worche this man so myche woo,

Or pynen hym so angerly;

It is to you gret villany.

I can not see why, ne how,

That he hath trespassed ageyn you,

Save that he loveth, wherfore ye shulde

The more in cherete of hym holde.

The force of love makith hym do this;

Who wolde hym blame he dide amys?

He leseth more than ye may do;

3520 His peyne is hard, ye may see, lo!

And Love in no wise wolde consente

That he have power to repente,

For though that quyk ye wolde hym sloo,

Fro love his herte may not goo.

Now, swete sir, is it youre ese

Hym for to angre or disese?

Allas! what may it you avaunce

To don to hym so gret grevaunce?

What worship is it agayn hym take,

3530 Or on youre man a werre make,

Sith he so lowly, every wise,

Is redy, as ye lust devise?

If Love hath caught hym in his las,

You for t' obeye in every caas,

And ben youre suget at youre will,

Shuld ye therfore willen hym ill?

Ye shulde hym spare more, all out,

Than hym that is bothe proud and stout.

Curtesie wol that ye socoure

3540 Hem that ben meke undir youre cure.

His herte is hard that wole not meke,

Whanne men of mekenesse hym biseke."

"That is certeyn," seide Pite;

"We se ofte that humilite

Bothe ire and also felonye

Venquyssheth, and also malencolye.

To stonde forth in such duresse,

This cruelte and wikkidnesse.

Wherfore I pray you, sir Daunger,

3550 For to mayntene no lenger heer

Such cruel werre agayn youre man,

As hoolly youres as ever he can;

Nor that ye worchen no more woo

Upon this caytif, that langwisshith soo,

Which wole no more to you trespasse,

But putte hym hoolly in youre grace.

His offense ne was but lite;

The God of Love it was to wite,

That he youre thrall so gretly is,

3560 And if ye harme hym, ye don amys.

For he hath had full hard penaunce,

Sith that ye refte hym th' aqueyntaunce

Of Bialacoil, his moste joye,

Which alle his peynes myght acoye.

He was biforn anoyed sore,

But thanne ye doubled hym well more;

For he of blis hath ben full bare,

Sith Bialacoil was fro hym fare.

Love hath to hym do gret distresse,

3570 He hath no nede of more duresse.

Voideth from hym youre ire, I rede;

Ye may not wynnen in this dede.

Makith Bialacoil repeire ageyn,

And haveth pite upon his peyn;

For Fraunchise wole, and I, Pite,

That mercyful to hym ye be;

And sith that she and I accorde,

Have upon hym misericorde.

For I you pray and eke moneste

3580 Nought to refusen oure requeste,

For he is hard and fell of thought,

That for us twoo wole do right nought."

Daunger ne myght no more endure;

He mekede hym unto mesure.

"I wole in no wise," seith Daunger,

"Denye that ye have asked heer;

It were to gret uncurtesie.

I wole he have the companye

Of Bialacoil, as ye devise;

3590 I wole hym lette in no wise."

To Bialacoil thanne wente in hy

Fraunchise, and seide full curteisly,

"Ye have to longe be deignous

Unto this lover, and daungerous,

Fro him to withdrawe your presence,

Which hath do to him gret offence,

That ye not wolde upon him se,

Wherfore a sorouful man is he.

Shape ye to paye him, and to please,

3600 Of my love if ye wol have ease.

Fulfyl his wyl, sith that ye knowe

Daunger is daunted and brought lowe

Through help of me and of Pyte.

You dar no more afered be."

"I shal do right as ye wyl,"

Saith Bialacoil, "for it is skyl,

Sithe Daunger wol that it so be."

Than Fraunchise hath him sent to me.

Byalacoil at the begynnyng

3610 Salued me in his commyng.

No straungenesse was in him sen,

No more than he ne had wrathed ben.

As fayr semblaunt than shewed he me,

And goodly, as aforn dyd he;

And by the hond, withouten doute,

Within the haye, right al aboute

He ladde me, with right good cher,

Al envyron the verger,

That Daunger hadde me chased fro.

3620 Now have I leave overal to go;

Now am I raysed, at my devys,

Fro helle unto paradys.

Thus Bialacoil, of gentylnesse,

With al his payne and besynesse,

Hath shewed me, only of grace,

The estres of the swote place.

I saw the Rose, whan I was nygh,

Was greatter woxen and more high,

Fressh, roddy, and fayr of hewe,

3630 Of colour ever yliche newe.

And whan I hadde it longe sen,

I saw that through the leves gren

The Rose spredde to spaunysshing;

To sene it was a goodly thyng.

But it ne was so spred on bred

That men within myght knowe the sed;

For it covert was and close,

Bothe with the leves and with the rose.

The stalke was even and grene upright,

3640 It was theron a goodly syght;

And wel the better, withoute wene,

For the seed was nat sene.

Ful fayre it spradde (God it blesse!),

For such another, as I gesse,

Aforn ne was, ne more vermayle.

I was abawed for marveyle,

For ever the fayrer that it was,

The more I am bounden in Loves laas.

Longe I abod there, soth to saye,

3650 Tyl Bialacoil I gan to praye,

Whan that I saw him in no wyse

To me warnen his servyse,

That he me wolde graunt a thyng,

Which to remembre is wel syttyng;

This is to sayn, that of his grace

He wolde me yeve leysar and space,

To me that was so desyrous,

To have a kyssynge precious

Of the goodly fresshe Rose,

3660 That so swetely smelleth in my nose.

"For if it you displeased nought,

I wolde gladly, as I have sought,

Have a cos therof freely,

Of your yefte; for certainly,

I wol non have but by your leve,

So loth me were you for to greve."

He sayde, "Frend, so God me spede,

Of Chastite I have such drede;

Thou shuldest nat warned be for me,

3670 But I dar nat for Chastyte.

Agayn her dar I nat mysdo,

For alway byddeth she me so

To yeve no lover leave to kys,

For who therto may wynnen, ywis,

He of the surplus of the pray

May lyve in hoope to get som day.

For whoso kyssynge may attayne

Of loves payne hath (soth to sayne)

The beste and most avenaunt,

3680 And ernest of the remenaunt."

Of his answere I sighed sore;

I durst assaye him tho no more,

I hadde such drede to greve him ay.

A man shulde nat to moche assay

To chafe hys frend out of measure,

Nor putte his lyf in aventure;

For no man at the firste strok

Ne may nat felle down an ok,

Nor of the reysyns have the wyn,

3690 Tyl grapes be rype, and wel afyn

Be sore empressid, I you ensure,

And drawen out of the pressure.

But I, forpeyned wonder stronge,

Thought that I abood right longe

Aftir the kis, in peyne and woo,

Sith I to kis desired soo;

Till that, rewyng on my distresse,

Ther to me Venus the goddesse,

Which ay werreyeth Chastite,

3700 Cam of hir grace to socoure me,

Whos myght is knowe fer and wide,

For she is modir of Cupide,

The God of Love, blynde as stoon,

That helpith lovers many oon.

This lady brought in hir right hond

Of brennyng fyr a blasyng brond,

Wherof the flawme and hoote fir

Hath many a lady in desir

Of love brought, and sore het,

3710 And in hir servise her hertes set.

This lady was of good entaile,

Right wondirfull of apparayle.

Bi hir atyr so bright and shen

Men myght perceyve well and sen

She was not of religioun.

Nor I nell make mencioun

Nor of robe, nor of tresour,

Of broche, neithir of hir riche attour,

Ne of hir girdill aboute hir side,

3720 For that I nyll not longe abide.

But knowith wel that certeynly

She was araied richely.

Devoyd of pryde certeyn she was.

To Bialacoil she wente apas,

And to hym shortly, in a clause,

She seide, "Sir, what is the cause

Ye ben of port so daungerous

Unto this lover and deynous,

To graunte hym nothyng but a kis?

3730 To werne it hym ye don amys,

Sith well ye wote how that he

Is Loves servaunt, as ye may see,

And hath beaute, wherthrough [he] is

Worthy of love to have the blis.

How he is semely, biholde and see,

How he is fair, how he is free,

How he is swoote and debonair,

Of age yong, lusty, and fair.

Ther is no lady so hawteyn,

3740 Duchesse, ne countesse, ne chasteleyn,

That I nolde holde hir ungoodly

For to refuse hym outterly.

His breth is also good and swete,

And eke his lippis rody, and mete

Oonly to pleyen and to kisse.

Graunte hym a kis, of gentilnysse!

His teth arn also white and clene;

Me thinkith wrong, withouten wene,

If ye now werne hym, trustith me,

3750 To graunte that a kis have he.

The lasse to helpe hym that ye haste,

The more tyme shul ye waste."

Whanne the flawme of the verry brond,

That Venus brought in hir right hond,

Hadde Bialacoil with hete smete,

Anoon he bad, withouten lette,

Graunte to me the Rose kisse.

Thanne of my peyne I gan to lysse,

And to the Rose anoon wente I,

3760 And kisside it full feithfully.

Thar no man aske if I was blithe,

Whanne the savour soft and lythe

Strok to myn herte withoute more,

And me alegged of my sore,

So was I full of joye and blisse.

It is fair sich a flour to kisse,

It was so swoote and saverous.

I myght not be so angwisshous

That I [ne] mote glad and joly be,

3770 Whanne that I remembre me.

Yit ever among, sothly to seyne,

I suffre noy and moche peyne.

The see may never be so stille

That with a litel wynde it nille

Overwhelme and turne also,

As it were wood in wawis goo.

Aftir the calm the trouble sone

Mot folowe and chaunge as the moone.

Right so farith Love, that selde in oon

3780 Holdith his anker, for right anoon

Whanne they in ese wene best to lyve,

They ben with tempest all fordryve.

Who serveth Love can telle of woo;

The stoundemele joie mot overgoo.

Now he hurteth, and now he cureth.

For selde in oo poynt Love endureth.

Now is it right me to procede,

How Shame gan medle and take hede

Thurgh whom fele angres I have had,

3790 And how the stronge wall was maad,

And the castell of brede and lengthe,

That God of Love wan with his strengthe.

All this in romance will I sette,

And for nothyng ne will I lette,

So that it lykyng to hir be,

That is the flour of beaute,

For she may best my labour quyte,

That I for hir love shal endite.

Wikkid-Tunge, that the covyne

3800 Of every lover can devyne

Worst, and addith more somdell

(For Wikkid-Tunge seith never well),

To me-ward bar he right gret hate,

Espiyng me erly and late,

Till he hath sen the grete chere

Of Bialacoil and me ifeere.

He myghte not his tunge withstond

Worse to reporte than he fond,

He was so full of cursed rage.

3810 It sat hym well of his lynage,

For hym an Irish womman bar.

His tunge was fyled sharp and squar,

Poignaunt, and right kervyng,

And wonder bitter in spekyng.

For whanne that he me gan espie,

He swoor, affermyng sikirlye,

Bitwene Bialacoil and me

Was yvel aquayntaunce and pryve.

He spak therof so folily

3820 That he awakide Jelousy,

Which, all afrayed in his risyng,

Whanne that he herde janglyng,

He ran anoon, as he were wood,

To Bialacoil, there that he stod,

Which hadde lever in this caas

Have ben at Reynes or Amyas;

For foot-hoot, in his felonye,

To hym thus seide Jelousie:

"Why hast thou ben so necligent

3830 To kepen, whanne I was absent,

This verger heere left in thi ward?

To me thou haddist no reward,

To truste (to thy confusioun!)

Hym thus, to whom suspeccioun

I have right gret, for it is nede;

It is well shewed by the dede.

Gret faute in thee now have I founde.

By God, anoon thou shalt be bounde,

And faste loken in a tour,

3840 Withoute refuyt or socour.

For Shame to longe hath be thee froo;

Over-soone she was agoo.

Whanne thou hast lost bothe drede and feere,

It semede wel she was not heere.

She was bisy in no wyse

To kepe thee and chastise,

And for to helpen Chastite

To kepe the roser, as thenkith me.

For thanne this boy-knave so booldely

3850 Ne shulde not have be hardy,

[Ne] in this verger hadde such game,

Which now me turneth to gret shame."

Bialacoil nyste what to sey;

Full fayn he wolde have fled awey,

For feere han hid, nere that he

All sodeynly tok hym with me.

And whanne I saugh he hadde soo,

This Jelousie, take us twoo,

I was astoned, and knew no red,

3860 But fledde awey for verrey dred.

Thanne Shame cam forth full symply

(She wende have trespaced full gretly),

Humble of hir port, and made it symple,

Weryng a vayle in stide of wymple,

As nonnys don in her abbey.

By cause hir herte was in affray,

She gan to speke withynne a throwe

To Jelousie right wonder lowe.

First of his grace she bysought,

3870 And seide, "Sire, ne leveth nought

Wikkid-Tunge, that false espie,

Which is so glad to feyne and lye.

He hath you maad, thurgh flateryng,

On Bialacoil a fals lesyng.

His falsnesse is not now a-new;

It is to long that he hym knew.

This is not the firste day,

For Wikkid-Tunge hath custome ay

Yonge folkis to bewreye,

3880 And false lesynges on hem leye.

"Yit nevertheles I see among,

That the loigne it is so long,

Of Bialacoil, hertis to lure,

In Loves servyse for to endure,

Drawyng suche folk hym to,

That he hath nothyng with to doo.

But in sothnesse I trowe nought

That Bialacoil hadde ever in thought

To do trespas or vylonye,

3890 But for his modir Curtesie

Hath taught hym ever to be

Good of aqueyntaunce and pryve.

For he loveth noon hevynesse,

But mirthe and pley and all gladnesse;

He hateth alle trecherous,

Soleyn folk, and envyous;

For ye witen how that he

Wol ever glad and joyfull be

Honestly with folk to pley.

3900 I have be negligent, in good fey,

To chastise hym; therfore now I

Of herte crye you heere mercy,

That I have been so recheles

To tamen hym, withouten lees.

Of my foly I me repente.

Now wole I hool sette myn entente

To kepe, bothe lowde and stille,

Bialacoil to do youre wille."

"Shame, Shame," seyde Jelousy,

3910 "To be bytrasshed gret drede have I.

Leccherie hath clombe so hye

That almoost blered is myn ye;

No wonder is, if that drede have I.

Overall regnyth Lecchery,

Whos myght growith nyght and day

Bothe in cloistre and in abbey.

Chastite is werreyed overall;

Therfore I wole with siker wall

Close bothe roses and roser.

3920 I have to longe in this maner

Left hem unclosid wilfully;

Wherfore I am right inwardly

Sorowfull, and repente me.

But now they shall no lenger be

Unclosid; and yit I drede sore,

I shall repente ferthermore,

For the game goth all amys.

Counsell I must newe, ywys.

I have to longe tristed thee,

3930 But now it shal no lenger be,

For he may best, in every cost,

Disceyve, that men tristen most.

I see wel that I am nygh shent,

But if I sette my full entent

Remedye to purveye.

Therfore close I shall the weye

Fro hem that wole the Rose espie,

And come to wayte me vilonye,

For, in good feith and in trouthe,

3940 I wole not lette for no slouthe

To lyve the more in sikirnesse,

To make anoon a forteresse,

T' enclose the roses of good savour.

In myddis shall I make a tour

To putte Bialacoil in prisoun,

For evere I drede me of tresoun.

I trowe I shal hym kepe soo

That he shal have no myght to goo

Aboute to make companye

3950 To hem that thenke of vylanye;

Ne to no such as hath ben heere

Aforn, and founde in hym good chere,

Which han assailed hym to shende,

And with her trowandyse to blende.

A fool is eythe to bigyle;

But may I lyve a litel while,

He shal forthenke his fair semblaunt."

And with that word came Drede avaunt,

Which was abasshed and in gret fere,

3960 Whanne he wiste Jelousie was there.

He was for drede in sich affray

That not a word durste he say,

But quakyng stod full still aloon,

Til Jelousie his weye was gon,

Save Shame, that him not forsok.

Bothe Drede and she ful sore quok,

That atte laste Drede abreyde,

And to his cosyn Shame seide:

"Shame," he seide, "in sothfastnesse,

3970 To me it is gret hevynesse

That the noyse so fer is go,

And the sclaundre of us twoo.

But sithe that it is byfalle,

We may it not ageyn calle

Whanne onys sprongen is a fame.

For many a yeer withouten blame

We han ben, and many a day;

For many an Aprill and many a May

We han passed, not shamed,

3980 Till Jelousie hath us blamed,

Of mystrust and suspecioun,

Causeles, withoute enchesoun.

Go we to Daunger hastily,

And late us shewe hym openly

That [he] hath not aright wrought,

Whanne that [he] sette nought his thought

To kepe better the purprise;

In his doyng he is not wise.

He hath to us do gret wrong,

3990 That hath suffred now so long

Bialacoil to have his wille,

All his lustes to fulfille.

He must amende it utterly,

Or ellys shall he vilaynesly

Exiled be out of this lond;

For he the werre may not withstond

Of Jelousie, nor the greef,

Sith Bialacoil is at myscheef."

To Daunger, Shame and Drede anoon

4000 The righte weye ben goon.

The cherl thei founden hem aforn,

Liggyng undir an hawethorn;

Undir his heed no pilowe was,

But in the stede a trusse of gras.

He slombred, and a nappe he tok,

Tyll Shame pitously hym shok,

And grete manace on hym gan make.

"Why slepist thou, whanne thou shulde wake?"

Quod Shame; "Thou doist us vylanye!

4010 Who tristith thee, he doth folye,

To kepe roses or botouns,

Whanne thei ben faire in her sesouns.

Thou art woxe to familiere,

Where thou shulde be straunge of chere,

Stout of thi port, redy to greve.

Thou doist gret folye for to leve

Bialacoil hereinne to calle

The yonder man to shenden us alle.

Though that thou slepe, we may here

4020 Of Jelousie gret noyse heere.

Art thou now late? Ris up in hy,

And stop sone and delyverly

All the gappis of the haye.

Do no favour, I thee praye.

It fallith nothyng to thy name

To make faire semblaunt, where thou maist blame.

Yf Bialacoil be sweete and free,

Dogged and fell thou shuldist be,

Froward and outrageous, ywis;

4030 A cherl chaungeth that curteis is.

This have I herd ofte in seiyng,

That man [ne] may, for no dauntyng,

Make a sperhauk of a bosard.

Alle men wole holde thee for musard,

That debonair have founden thee;

It sittith thee nought curteis to be.

To do men plesaunce or servise,

In thee it is recreaundise.

Let thi werkis fer and ner

4040 Be like thi name, which is Daunger."

Thanne, all abawid in shewing,

Anoon spak Drede, right thus seiyng,

And seide, "Daunger, I drede me

That thou ne wolt bisy be

To kepe that thou hast to kepe:

Whanne thou shuldist wake, thou art aslepe.

Thou shalt be greved, certeynly,

If the aspie Jelousy,

Or if he fynde thee in blame.

4050 He hath to-day assailed Shame,

And chased awey with gret manace

Bialacoil out of this place,

And swereth shortly that he shall

Enclose hym in a sturdy wall;

And all is for thi wikkednesse,

For that thee faileth straungenesse.

Thyn herte, I trowe, be failed all;

Thou shalt repente in speciall,

If Jelousie the soothe knewe;

4060 Thou shalt forthenke and sore rewe."

With that the cherl his clubbe gan shake,

Frounyng his eyen gan to make,

And hidous chere; as man in rage

For ire he brente in his visage,

Whanne that [he] herd hym blamed soo.

He seide, "Out of my wit I goo!

To be discomfyt I have gret wrong.

Certis, I have now lyved to long,

Sith I may not this closer kepe.

4070 All quyk I wolde be dolven deepe,

If ony man shal more repeire

Into this gardyn, for foule or faire.

Myn herte for ire goth a-fere,

That I let ony entre heere.

I have do folie, now I see,

But now it shall amended bee.

Who settith foot heere ony more,

Truly he shall repente it sore;

For no man moo into this place

4080 Of me to entre shal have grace.

Lever I hadde with swerdis tweyne

Thurghoute myn herte in every veyne

Perced to be with many a wounde,

Thanne slouthe shulde in me be founde.

From hennes forth, by nyght or day,

I shall defende it, if I may,

Withouten ony excepcioun

Of ech maner condicioun.

And if I it eny man graunt,

4090 Holdeth me for recreaunt."

Thanne Daunger on his feet gan stond,

And hente a burdoun in his hond.

Wroth in his ire, ne lefte he nought,

But thurgh the verger he hath sought.

If he myght fynde hole or trace,

Wherethurgh that me mot forth-by pace,

Or ony gappe, he dide it close,

That no man myghte touche a rose

Of the roser all aboute.

4100 He shitteth every man withoute.

Thus day by day Daunger is wers,

More wondirfull and more dyvers,

And feller eke than evere he was.

For hym full ofte I synge "Allas!"

For I ne may nought, thurgh his ire,

Recovere that I moost desire.

Myn herte, allas, wole brest a-twoo,

For Bialacoil I wratthed soo.

For certeynly, in every membre

4110 I quake, whanne I me remembre

Of the botoun, which I wolde

Full ofte a day sen and biholde.

And whanne I thenke upon the kiss,

And how myche joye and bliss

I hadde thurgh the savour swete,

For want of it I grone and grete.

Me thenkith I fele yit in my nose

The swete savour of the Rose.

And now I woot that I mot goo

4120 So fer the freshe floures froo,

To me full welcome were the deth.

Absens therof, allas, me sleeth.

For whilom with this Rose -- allas! --

I touched nose, mouth, and face;

But now the deth I must abide.

But Love consente another tyde

That onys I touche may and kisse,

I trowe my peyne shall never lisse;

Theron is all my coveitise,

4130 Which brent myn herte in many wise.

Now shal repaire agayn sighinge,

Long wacche on nyghtis, and no slepinge,

Thought in wisshing, torment and woo,

With many a turnyng to and froo,

That half my peyne I can not telle.

For I am fallen into helle

From paradys, and wel the more

My turment greveth. more and more

Anoieth now the bittirnesse,

4140 That I toforn have felt swetnesse.

And Wikkid-Tunge, thurgh his falshede,

Causeth all my woo and drede.

On me he leieth a pitous charge,

Bicause his tunge was to large.

Now it is tyme, shortly, that I

Telle you som thyng of Jelousy,

That was in gret suspecioun.

Aboute hym lefte he no masoun,

That stoon coude leye, ne querrour;

4150 He hirede hem to make a tour.

And first, the roses for to kep,

Aboute hem made he a diche deep,

Right wondir large, and also brood;

Upon the whiche also stod

Of squared stoon a sturdy wall,

Which on a cragge was founded all;

And right gret thikkenesse eke it bar.

Aboute, it was founded squar,

An hundred fademe on every sid;

4160 It was all liche longe and wid.

Lest ony tyme it were assayled,

Ful wel aboute it was batayled,

And rounde enviroun eke were set

Ful many a riche and fair touret.

At every corner of this wall

Was set a tour full pryncipall;

And everich hadde, withoute fable,

A porte-colys defensable

To kepe of enemyes, and to greve,

4170 That there her force wolde preve.

And eke amydde this purprise

Was maad a tour of gret maistrise;

A fairer saugh no man with sight,

Large and wid, and of gret myght.

They dredde noon assaut

Of gyn, gunne, nor skaffaut.

The temperure of the morter

Was maad of lycour wonder der,

Of quykke lym, persant and egre,

4180 The which was tempred with vynegre.

The stoon was hard, of ademant,

Wherof they made the foundement.

The tour was round, maad in compas;

In all this world no riccher was,

Ne better ordeigned therwithall.

Aboute the tour was maad a wall,

So that bitwixt that and the tour

Rosers were sette of swete savour,

With many roses that thei bere;

4190 And eke withynne the castell were

Spryngoldes, gunnes, bows, and archers;

And eke above, atte corners,

Men seyn over the wall stonde

Grete engynes, who were nygh honde.

And in the kernels, heere and there,

Of arblasters gret plente were;

Noon armure myght her strok withstonde;

It were foly to prece to honde.

Withoute the diche were lystes maad,

4200 With wall batayled large and brad,

For men and hors shulde not atteyne

To neigh the dyche over the pleyne.

Thus Jelousie hath enviroun

Set aboute his garnysoun

With walles rounde and diche dep,

Oonly the roser for to kep.

And Daunger, erly and late,

The keyes [kepte] of the utter gate,

The which openeth toward the eest.

4210 And he hadde with hym atte leest

Thritty servauntes, echon by name.

That other gate kepte Shame,

Which openede, as it was couth,

Toward the partie of the south.

Sergeauntes assigned were hir to

Ful many, hir wille for to doo.

Thanne Drede hadde in hir baillie

The kepyng of the conestablerye

Toward the north, I undirstond,

4220 That openyde upon the lyft hond;

The which for nothyng may be sure,

But if she do bisy cure,

Erly on morowe and also late,

Strongly to shette and barre the gate.

Of every thing that she may see

Drede is aferd, wherso she be;

For with a puff of litell wynd

Drede is astonyed in hir mynd.

Therfore, for stelyng of the Rose,

4230 I rede hir nought the yate unclose.

A foulis flight wol make hir flee,

And eke a shadowe, if she it see.

Thanne Wikked-Tunge, ful of envye,

With soudiours of Normandye,

As he that causeth all the bate,

Was keper of the fourthe gate,

And also to the tother three

He wente full ofte for to see.

Whanne his lot was to wake anyght,

4240 His instrumentis wolde he dight,

For to blowe and make sown

Ofter thanne he hath enchesoun,

And walken oft upon the wall,

Corners and wikettis overall

Full narwe serchen and espie;

Though he nought fond, yit wolde he lye.

Discordaunt ever fro armonye,

And distoned from melodie,

Controve he wolde, and foule fayle,

4250 With hornepipes of Cornewaile.

In floytes made he discordaunce,

And in his musyk -- with myschaunce! --

He wolde seyn, with notes newe,

That he fond no womman trewe,

Ne that he saugh never in his lyf

Unto hir husbonde a trewe wyf,

Ne noon so ful of honeste

That she nyl laughe and mery be

Whanne that she hereth, or may espie,

4260 A man speken of leccherie.

Everich of hem hath som vice:

Oon is dishonest, another is nyce;

If oon be full of vylanye,

Another hath a likerous ye;

If oon be full of wantonesse,

Another is a chideresse.

Thus Wikked-Tunge -- God yeve him shame! --

Can putt hem everychon in blame,

Withoute desert and causeles;

4270 He lieth, though they ben giltles.

I have pite to sen the sorwe

That waketh bothe eve and morwe,

To innocentis doith such grevaunce.

I pray God yeve him evel chaunce,

That he ever so bisy is

Of ony womman to seyn amys!

Eke Jelousie God confound,

That hath maad a tour so round,

And made aboute a garisoun,

4280 To sette Bealacoil in prisoun,

The which is shet there in the tour

Ful longe to holde there sojour,

There for to lyve in penaunce.

And for to do hym more grevaunce,

Ther hath ordeyned Jelousie

An olde vekke, for to espye

The maner of his governaunce;

The whiche devel in hir enfaunce

Hadde lerned of loves art,

4290 And of his pleyes tok hir part;

She was expert in his servise.

She knew ech wrench and every gise

Of love, and every wile;

It was [the] harder hir to gile.

Of Bealacoil she tok ay hede,

That evere he lyveth in woo and drede.

He kepte hym koy and eke pryve,

Lest in hym she hadde see

Ony foly countenaunce,

4300 For she knew all the olde daunce.

And aftir this, whanne Jelousie

Hadde Bealacoil in his baillie,

And shette hym up that was so fre,

For seur of hym he wolde be,

He trusteth sore in his castell;

The stronge werk hym liketh well.

He dradde not that no glotouns

Shulde stele his roses or botouns.

The roses weren assured all,

4310 Defenced with the stronge wall.

Now Jelousie full well may be

Of drede devoid in liberte,

Whether that he slepe or wake,

For his roses may noon be take.

But I -- allas! -- now morne shall;

Bicause I was withoute the wall,

Full moche dool and moone I made.

Who hadde wist what woo I hadde,

I trowe he wolde have had pite.

4320 Love to deere hadde soold to me

The good that of his love hadde I.

I wende a bought it all queyntly;

But now, thurgh doublyng of my peyn,

I see he wolde it selle ageyn,

And me a newe bargeyn leere,

The which all-oute the more is deere,

For the solas that I have lorn,

Thanne I hadde it never aforn.

Certayn, I am ful lik in deed

4330 To hym that cast in erthe his seed,

And hath joie of the newe spryng,

Whanne it greneth in the gynnyng,

And is also fair and fresh of flour,

Lusty to seen, swoote of odour;

But er he it in sheves shere,

May falle a weder that shal it dere,

And make it to fade and falle,

The stalke, the greyn, and floures alle,

That to the tylyer is fordon

4340 The hope that he hadde to soon.

I drede, certeyn, that so fare I;

For hope and travaile sikerly

Ben me byraft all with a storm;

The flour nyl seeden of my corn.

For Love hath so avaunced me,

Whanne I bigan my pryvite

To Bialacoil all for to tel,

Whom I ne fond froward ne fel,

But tok a-gree all hool my play.

4350 But Love is of so hard assay,

That al at oonys he reved me,

Whanne I wende best aboven to have be.

It is of Love, as of Fortune,

That chaungeth ofte, and nyl contune,

Which whilom wol on folk smyle,

And glowmbe on hem another while.

Now freend, now foo, [thow] shalt hir feel,

For [in] a twynklyng turneth hir wheel.

She can writhe hir heed awey;

4360 This is the concours of hir pley.

She can areise that doth morne,

And whirle adown, and overturne

Who sittith hyest, but as hir lust.

A fool is he that wole hir trust;

For it is I that am come down

Thurgh change and revolucioun!

Sith Bealacoil mot fro me twynne,

Shet in the prisoun yond withynne,

His absence at myn herte I fele;

4370 For all my joye and all myn hele

Was in hym and in the Rose,

That but yon wal, which hym doth close,

Opene that I may hym see,

Love nyl not that I cured be

Of the peynes that I endure,

Nor of my cruel aventure.

A, Bialacoil, myn owne deer!

Though thou be now a prisoner,

Kep atte leste thyn herte to me

4380 And suffre not that it daunted be;

Ne lat not Jelousie, in his rage,

Putten thin herte in no servage.

Although he chastice thee withoute

And make thy body unto hym loute,

Have herte as hard as dyamaunt,

Stedefast and nought pliaunt.

In prisoun though thi body be,

At large kep thyn herte free;

A trewe herte wole not plie

4390 For no manace that it may drye.

If Jelousie doth thee payn,

Quyte hym his while thus agayn,

To venge thee, atte leest in thought,

If other way thou maist nought;

And in this wise sotilly

Worche, and wynne the maistry.

But yit I am in gret affray

Lest thou do not as I say.

I drede thou canst me gret maugre,

4400 That thou enprisoned art for me;

But that [is. not for my trespas,

For thurgh me never discovred was

Yit thyng that oughte be secree.

Wel more anoy is in me,

Than is in thee, of this myschaunce;

For I endure more hard penaunce,

Than ony can seyn or thynke,

That for the sorwe almost I synke.

Whanne I remembre me of my woo,

4410 Full nygh out of my witt I goo.

Inward myn herte I feele blede,

For comfortles the deth I drede.

Owe I not wel to have distresse,

Whanne false, thurgh hir wikkednesse,

And traitours, that arn envyous,

To noyen me be so corajous?

A, Bialacoil, full wel I see

That they hem shape to disceyve thee,

To make thee buxom to her lawe,

4420 And with her corde thee to drawe

Where so hem lust, right at her will.

I drede they have thee brought thertill.

Withoute comfort, thought me sleeth.

This game wole brynge me to my deeth.

For if youre goode wille I leese,

I mot be deed, I may not chese.

And if that thou foryete me,

Myn herte shal nevere in likyng be,

Nor elleswhere fynde solas,

4430 If I be putt out of youre gras --

As it shal never been, I hope --

Thanne shulde I falle in wanhope.

Allas, in wanhope? Nay, pardee!

For I wole never dispeired be.

If hope me faile, thanne am I

Ungracious and unworthy.

In hope I wole comforted be,

For Love, whanne he bitaught hir me,

Seide that Hope, whereso I goo,

4440 Shulde ay be relees to my woo.

But what and she my baalis beete,

And be to me curteis and sweete?

She is in nothyng full certeyn.

Lovers she putt in full gret peyn,

And makith hem with woo to deele.

Hir faire biheeste disceyveth feele,

For she wole byhote, sikirly,

And failen aftir outrely.

A, that is a full noyous thyng!

4450 For many a lover, in lovyng,

Hangeth upon hir, and trusteth faste,

Whiche leese her travel at the laste.

Of thyng to comen she woot right nought;

Therfore, if it be wysely sought,

Hir counseill foly is to take.

For many tymes, whanne she wole make

A full good silogisme, I dreede

That aftirward ther shal in deede

Folwe an evell conclusioun.

4460 This put me in confusioun.

For many tymes I have it seen,

That many have bigyled been

For trust that they have set in Hope,

Which fell hem aftirward a-slope.

But nevertheles, yit gladly she wolde

That he, that wole hym with hir holde,

Hadde alle tymes his purpos cler,

Withoute deceyte or ony wer --

That she desireth sikirly.

4470 Whanne I hir blamed, I dide foly.

But what avayleth hir good wille,

Whanne she ne may staunche my stounde ille?

That helpith litel that she may doo,

Out-take biheest unto my woo.

And heeste certeyn, in no wise,

Withoute yift, is not to prise.

Whanne heest and deede a-sundry varie,

They doon a gret contrarie.

Thus am I possed up and doun

4480 With dool, thought, and confusioun;

Of my disese ther is no noumbre.

Daunger and Shame me encumbre,

Drede also, and Jelousie,

And Wikked-Tunge, full of envie,

Of whiche the sharpe and cruel ire

Full ofte me putte in gret martire.

They han my joye fully let,

Sith Bialacoil they have bishet

Fro me in prisoun wikkidly,

4490 Whom I love so entierly

That it wole my bane bee

But I the sonner may hym see.

And yit moreover, wurst of alle,

Ther is set to kepe -- foule hir bifalle! --

A rympled vekke, fer ronne in age,

Frownyng and yelowe in hir visage,

Which in awayt lyth day and nyght,

That noon of him may have a sight.

Now mote my sorwe enforced be.

4500 Full soth it is that Love yaf me

Three wonder yiftes of his grace,

Whiche I have lorn now in this place,

Sith they ne may, withoute drede,

Helpen but lytel, who taketh heede.

For here availeth no Swete-Thought,

And Sweete-Speche helpith right nought.

The thridde was called Swete-Lokyng,

That now is lorn, without lesyng.

Yiftes were faire, but not forthy

4510 They helpe me but symply,

But Bialacoil loosed be,

To gon at large and to be free.

For hym my lyf lyth all in doute,

But if he come the rather oute.

Allas, I trowe it wole not ben!

For how shuld I evermore hym sen?

He may not out, and that is wrong,

By cause the tour is so strong.

How shulde he out? By whos prowesse,

4520 Out of so strong a forteresse?

By me, certeyn, it nyl be doo;

God woot, I have no wit therto!

But, wel I woot, I was in rage,

Whonne I to Love dide homage.

Who was in cause, in sothfastnesse,

But hirsilf, Dame Idelnesse,

Which me conveied, thurgh my praier,

To entre into that faire verger.

She was to blame me to leve,

4530 The which now doth me soore greve.

A foolis word is nought to trowe,

Ne worth an appel for to lowe;

Men shulde hym snybbe bittirly,

At pryme temps of his foly.

I was a fool, and she me leeved,

Thurgh whom I am right nought releeved.

She accomplisshid all my will,

That now me greveth wondir ill.

Resoun me seide what shulde falle.

4540 A fool mysilf I may well calle,

That love asyde I had [nat] leyd,

And trowed that Dame Resoun seid.

Resoun hadde bothe skile and ryght,

Whanne she me blamed, with all hir myght,

To medle of love that hath me shent;

But certeyn, now I wole repent.

And shulde I repente? Nay, parde!

A fals traitour thanne shulde I be.

The develes engynnes wolde me take,

4550 If I my lord wolde forsake,

Or Bialacoil falsly bitraye.

Shulde I at myscheef hate hym? Nay,

Sith he now, for his curtesie,

Is in prisoun of Jelousie.

Curtesie certeyn dide he me,

So mych that may not yolden be,

Whanne he the hay passen me let,

To kisse the Rose, faire and swet.

Shulde I therfore cunne hym mawgre?

4560 Nay, certeynly, it shal not be;

For Love shal nevere, yif God wille,

Here of me, thurgh word or wille,

Offence or complaynt, more or lesse,

Neither of Hope nor Idilnesse.

For certis, it were wrong that I

Hated hem for her curtesy.

Ther is not ellys but suffre and thynke,

And waken whanne I shulde wynke;

Abide in hope, til Love, thurgh chaunce,

4570 Sende me socour or allegeaunce,

Expectant ay till I may mete

To geten mercy of that swete.

Whilom I thenke how Love to me

Seide he wolde take att gree

My servise, if unpacience

[Ne] caused me to don offence.

He seide, "In thank I shal it take,

And high maister eke thee make,

If wikkednesse ne reve it thee;

4580 But sone, I trowe, that shall not be."

These were his wordis, by and by;

It semede he lovede me trewely.

Now is ther not but serve hym wel,

If that I thenke his thank to fel.

My good, myn harm lyth hool in me.

In Love may no defaute be,

For trewe Love ne failide never man.

Sothly the faute mot nedys than --

As God forbede! -- be founde in me;

4590 And how it cometh, I can not see.

Now late it goon as it may goo;

Whether Love wole socoure me or sloo,

He may do hool on me his will.

I am so sore bounde hym till,

From his servise I may not fleen;

For lyf and deth, withouten wen,

Is in his hand -- I may not chese --

He may me doo bothe wynne and leese.

And sith so sore he doth me greve,

4600 Yit, if my lust he wolde acheve,

To Bialacoil goodly to be,

I yeve no force what felle on me.

For though I dye, as I mot nede,

I praye Love, of his goodlyhede,

To Bialacoil do gentylnesse,

For whom I lyve in such distresse

That I mot deyen for penaunce.

But first, withoute repentaunce,

I wole me confesse in good entent,

4610 And make in haste my testament,

As lovers doon that feelen smert:

To Bialacoil leve I myn hert

All hool, withoute departyng,

Doublenesse of repentyng.

Thus, as I made my passage

In compleynt and in cruel rage,

And I not where to fynde a leche

That couth. unto myn helpyng eche,

Sodeynly agayn comen doun

4620 Out of hir tour I saugh Resoun,

Discret and wis and full plesaunt,

And of hir port full avenaunt.

The righte weye she took to me,

Which stod in gret perplexite,

That was posshed in every side,

That I nyst where I myght abide,

Till she, demurely sad of cher,

Seide to me, as she com ner,

"Myn owne freend, art thou yit greved?

4630 How is this quarell yit acheved

Of Loves side? Anoon me telle.

Hast thou not yit of love thi fille?

Art thou not wery of thy servise,

That the hath [greved] in sich wise?

What joye hast thou in thy lovyng?

Is it swete or bitter thing?

Canst thou yit chese, lat me see,

What best thi socour myghte be?

"Thou servest a full noble lord,

4640 That maketh thee thrall for thi reward,

Which ay renewith thy turment,

With foly so he hath thee blent.

Thou fell in myscheef thilke day

Whanne thou didist, the sothe to say,

Obeysaunce and eke homage.

Thou wroughtest nothyng as the sage,

Whanne thou bicam his liege man.

Thou didist a gret foly than,

Thou wistest not what fell therto,

4650 With what lord thou haddist to do.

If thou haddist hym wel knowe,

Thou haddist nought be brought so lowe;

For if thou wistest what it wer,

Thou noldist serve hym half a yeer,

Not a weke, nor half a day,

Ne yit an hour, withoute delay,

Ne never han loved paramours,

His lordshipp is so full of shours.

Knowest hym ought?" L'amaunt "Ye, dame, parde!"

4660 Raisoun "Nay, nay." L'amaunt "Yis, I." Raisoun "Wherof? Late se."

4661 L'amaunt "Of that he seide I shulde be

Glad to have sich lord as he,

And maister of sich seignorie."

Raisoun "Knowist hym no more?" L'amaunt "Nay, certis, I,

Save that he yaf me rewles there,

And wente his wey, I nyste where,

And I abood, bounde in balaunce."

Raisoun "Lo, there a noble conisaunce!

But I wille that thou knowe hym now,

4670 Gynnyng and eende, sith that thou

Art so anguisshous and mate,

Disfigured out of astate;

Ther may no wrecche have more of woo,

Ne caytyf noon enduren soo.

It were to every man sittyng

Of his lord have knowleching;

For if thou knewe hym, out of doute,

Lightly thou shulde escapen oute

Of the prisoun that marreth thee."

4680 L'amant "Ye, dame, sith my lord is he,

And I his man, maad with myn hond,

I wolde right fayn undirstond

To knowe of what kynde he be,

If ony wolde enforme me."

Raisoun "I wolde," seide Resoun, "thee ler,

Sith thou to lerne hast sich desir,

And shewe thee, withouten fable,

A thyng that is not demonstrable.

Thou shalt [wite] withouten science,

4690 And knowe withouten experience,

The thyng that may not knowen be,

Ne wist, ne shewid, in no degre.

Thou maist the sothe of it not witen,

Though in thee it were writen.

Thou shalt not knowe therof more,

While thou art reuled by his lore;

But unto hym that love wole flee,

The knotte may unclosed bee,

Which hath to thee, as it is founde,

4700 So long be knet and not unbounde.

Now set wel thyn entencioun,

To here of love discripcioun.

"Love, it is an hatefull pees,

A free acquitaunce, withoute relees,

A trouthe, fret full of falsheede,

A sikernesse all set in drede.

In herte is a dispeiryng hope,

And full of hope, it is wanhope;

Wis woodnesse, and wod resoun;

4710 A swete perell in to droun;

An hevy birthen, lyght to bere;

A wikked wawe, awey to were.

It is Karibdous perilous,

Disagreable and gracious.

It is discordaunce that can accorde,

And accordaunce to discorde.

It is kunnyng withoute science,

Wisdom withoute sapience,

Wit withoute discrecioun,

4720 Havoir withoute possessioun.

It is sike hele and hool seknesse,

A thurst drowned in dronknesse,

And helthe full of maladie,

And charite full of envie,

And hunger full of habundaunce,

And a gredy suffisaunce;

Delit right full of hevynesse,

And drerihed full of gladnesse;

Bitter swetnesse and swete errour,

4730 Right evell savoured good savour;

Sin that pardoun hath withynne,

And pardoun spotted withoute [with] synne.

A peyne also it is, joious,

And felonye right pitous;

Also pley that selde is stable,

And stedefast [stat], right mevable;

A strengthe, weyked to stonde upright,

And feblenesse full of myght;

Wit unavised, sage folie,

4740 And joie full of turmentrie;

A laughter it is, weping ay;

Reste that traveyleth nyght and day;

Also a swete helle it is,

And a soroufull paradys;

A pleasant gayl and esy prisoun,

And, full of froste, somer sesoun;

Pryme temps full of frostes whit,

And May devoide of al delit,

With seer braunches, blossoms ungrene,

4750 And newe fruyt, fillid with wynter tene.

It is a slowe, may not forbere

Ragges, ribaned with gold, to were;

For also wel wol love be set

Under ragges, as riche rochet;

And eke as wel be amourettes

In mournyng blak, as bright burnettes.

For noon is of so mochel pris,

Ne no man founden so wys,

Ne noon so high is of parage,

4760 Ne no man founde of wit so sage,

No man so hardy ne so wight,

Ne no man of so mochel myght,

Noon so fulfilled of bounte,

That he with love [ne] may daunted be.

All the world holdith this wey;

Love makith all to goon myswey,

But it be they of yvel lyf,

Whom Genius cursith, man and wyf,

That wrongly werke ageyn nature.

4770 Noon such I love, ne have no cure

Of sich as Loves servauntes ben,

And wole not by my counsel flen.

For I ne preise that lovyng

Wherthurgh men, at the laste eendyng,

Shall calle hem wrecchis full of woo,

Love greveth hem and shendith soo.

But if thou wolt wel Love eschewe,

For to escape out of his mewe,

And make al hool thi sorwe to slake,

4780 No bettir counsel maist thou take

Than thynke to fleen wel, iwis.

May nought helpe elles, for wite thou this:

If thou fle it, it shal flee thee;

Folowe it, and folowen shal it thee."

L'amant Whanne I hadde herde all Resoun seyn,

Which hadde spilt hir speche in veyn,

"Dame," seide I, "I dar wel sey,

Of this avaunt me wel I may

That from youre scole so devyaunt

4790 I am, that never the more avaunt

Right nought am I thurgh youre doctrine.

I dulle under youre discipline.

I wot no more than [I] wist er,

To me so contrarie and so fer

Is every thing that ye me ler,

And yit I can it all par cuer.

Myn herte foryetith therof right nought,

It is so writen in my thought;

And depe greven it is so tendir

4800 That all by herte I can it rendre,

And rede it over comunely;

But to mysilf lewedist am I.

But sith ye love discreven so,

And lak and preise it, bothe twoo,

Defyneth it into this letter,

That I may thenke on it the better;

For I herde never diffyne it er,

And wilfully I wolde it ler."

Raisoun "If love be serched wel and sought,

4810 It is a syknesse of the thought

Annexed and knet bitwixe tweyne,

Which male and female, with oo cheyne,

So frely byndith that they nyll twynne,

Whether so therof they leese or wynne.

The roote springith thurgh hoot brennyng

Into disordinat desiryng

For to kissen and enbrace,

And at her lust them to solace.

Of other thyng love recchith nought,

4820 But setteth her herte and all her thought

More for delectacioun

Than ony procreacioun

Of other fruyt by engendring,

Which love to God is not plesyng;

For of her body fruyt to get

They yeve no force, they are so set

Upon delit to pley in-feere.

And somme have also this manere,

To feynen hem for love sek;

4830 Sich love I preise not at a lek.

For paramours they do but feyne;

To love truly they disdeyne.

They falsen ladies traitoursly,

And swern hem othes utterly,

With many a lesyng and many a fable,

And all they fynden deceyvable.

And whanne they han her lust geten,

The hoote ernes they al foryeten.

Wymmen, the harm they bien full sore;

4840 But men this thenken evermore,

That lasse harm is, so mote I the,

Deceyve them than deceyved be;

And namely, where they ne may

Fynde non other mene wey.

For I wot wel, in sothfastnesse,

[What man] doth now his bisynesse

With ony womman for to dele,

For ony lust that he may fele,

But if it be for engendrure,

4850 He doth trespas, I you ensure.

For he shulde setten all his wil

To geten a likly thyng hym til,

And to sustene, if he myght,

And kepe forth, by Kyndes right,

His owne lyknesse and semblable;

And faile shulde successioun,

Ne were ther generacioun

Oure sectis strene for to save.

4860 Whanne fader or moder arn in grave,

Her children shulde, whanne they ben deede,

Full diligent ben, in her steede,

To use that werk on such a wise

That oon may thurgh another rise.

Therfore sette Kynde therynne delit,

For men therynne shulde hem delit,

And of that deede be not erk,

But ofte sithes haunt that werk.

For noon wolde drawe therof a draught,

4870 Ne were delit, which hath hym kaught.

Thus hath sotilled dame Nature;

For noon goth right, I thee ensure,

Ne hath entent hool ne parfit;

For her desir is for delyt,

The which fortened crece and eke

The pley of love for-ofte seke,

And thrall hemsilf, they be so nyce,

Unto the prince of every vice.

For of ech synne it is the rote,

4880 Unlefull lust, though it be sote,

And of all yvell the racyne,

As Tulius can determyne,

Which in his tyme was full sage,

In a bok he made `Of Age,'

Where that more he preyseth eelde,

Though he be croked and unweelde,

And more of commendacioun

Than youthe in his discripcioun.

For youthe set bothe man and wyf

4890 In all perell of soule and lyf;

And perell is, but men have grace,

The tyme of youthe for to pace

Withoute ony deth or distresse,

It is so full of wyldenesse,

So ofte it doth shame or damage

To hym or to his lynage.

It ledith man now up, now doun,

In mochel dissolucioun,

And makith hym love yvell company,

4900 And lede his lyf disrewlily,

And halt hym payed with noon estat.

Withynne hymsilf is such debat,

He chaungith purpos and entent,

And yalt [him] into som covent,

To lyven aftir her emprise,

And lesith fredom and fraunchise,

That Nature in hym hadde set,

The which ageyn he may not get,

If he there make his mansioun,

4910 For to abide professioun.

Though for a tyme his herte absente,

It may not fayle, he shal repente,

And eke abide thilke day

To leve his abit, and gon his way,

And lesith his worshipp and his name,

And dar not come ageyn for shame;

But al his lyf he doth so mourne,

By cause he dar not hom retourne.

Fredom of kynde so lost hath he

4920 That never may recured be,

But if that God hym graunte grace

That he may, er he hennes pace,

Conteyne undir obedience

Thurgh the vertu of pacience.

For Youthe sett man in all folye,

In unthrift and in ribaudie,

In leccherie and in outrage,

So ofte it chaungith of corage.

Youthe gynneth ofte sich bargeyn,

4930 That may not eende withouten peyn.

In gret perell is sett youthede,

Delit so doth his bridil leede.

Delit thus hangith, dred thee nought,

Bothe mannys body and his thought,

Oonly thurgh Youthe, his chaumberere,

That to don yvell is customere,

And of nought elles taketh hede

But oonly folkes for to lede

Into disport and wyldenesse,

4940 So is [she] froward from sadnesse.

"But Eelde drawith hem therfro;

Who wot it nought, he may wel goo

Demande of hem that now arn olde,

That whilom Youthe hadde in holde,

Which yit remembre of tendir age,

Hou it hem brought in many a rage,

And many a foly therynne wrought.

But now that Eelde hath hem thourgh-sought,

They repente hem of her folye,

4950 That Youthe hem putte in jupardye,

In perell, and in myche woo,

And made hem ofte amys to do,

And suen yvell companye,

Riot and avouterie.

"But Eelde can ageyn restreyne

From sich foly, and refreyne,

And sette men by her ordinaunce

In good reule and in governaunce.

But yvell she spendith hir servise,

4960 For no man wole hir love neither prise;

She is hated, this wot I wel.

Hir acqueyntaunce wolde no man fel,

Ne han of Elde companye;

Men hate to be of hir alye.

For no man wolde bicomen old,

Ne dye whanne he is yong and bold.

And Eelde merveilith right gretly,

Whanne thei remembre hem inwardly

Of many a perelous emprise,

4970 Which that they wrought in sondry wise,

Houevere they myght, withoute blame,

Escape awey withoute shame,

In youthe, withoute damage

Or repreef of her lynage,

Loss of membre, shedyng of blod,

Perell of deth, or los of good.

Wost thou nought where Youthe abit,

That men so preisen in her wit?

With Delit she halt sojour,

4980 For bothe they dwellen in oo tour.

As longe as Youthe is in sesoun,

They dwellen in oon mansioun.

Delit of Youthe wole have servise

To do what so he wole devise;

And Youthe is redy evermore

For to obey, for smert of sore,

Unto Delit, and hym to yive

Hir servise, while that she may lyve.

"Where Elde abit I wol thee telle

4990 Shortly, and no while dwelle,

For thidir byhoveth thee to goo.

If Deth in youthe thee not sloo,

Of this journey thou maist not faile.

With hir Labour and Travaile

Logged ben, with Sorwe and Woo,

That never out of hir court goo.

Peyne and Distresse, Syknesse and Ire,

And Malencoly, that angry sire,

Ben of hir paleys senatours;

5000 Gronyng and Grucchyng, hir herbejours.

The day and nyght, hir to turmente,

With cruell Deth they hir presente,

And tellen hir, erliche and late,

That Deth stondeth armed at hir gate.

Thanne brynge they to her remembraunce

The foly dedis of hir infaunce,

Whiche causen hir to mourne in woo

That Youthe hath hir bigiled so,

Which sodeynly awey is hasted.

5010 She wepeth the tyme that she hath wasted,

Compleynyng of the preterit,

And the present that not abit,

And of hir olde vanite,

That, but aforn hir she may see

In the future som socour,

To leggen hir of hir dolour,

To graunte hir tyme of repentaunce,

For her synnes to do penaunce,

And at the laste so hir governe

5020 To wynne the joy that is eterne,

Fro which go bakward Youthe hir made,

In vanite to droune and wade.

For present tyme abidith nought;

It is more swift than any thought.

So litel while it doth endure

That ther nys compte ne mesure.

But hou that evere the game go,

Who list to have joie and mirth also

Of love, be it he or she,

5030 High or lowe, who it be,

In fruyt they shulde hem delyte;

Her part they may not elles quyte,

To save hemsilf in honeste.

And yit full many on I se

Of wymmen, sothly for to seyn,

That desire and wolde fayn

The pley of love, they be so wilde,

And not coveite to go with childe.

And if with child they be, perchaunce,

5040 They wole it holde a gret myschaunce;

But whatsomever woo they fele,

They wole not pleyne but concele;

But if it be ony fool or nyce,

In whom that Shame hath no justice.

For to delyt echon they drawe,

That haunte this werk, bothe high and lawe,

Save sich that arn worth right nought,

That for money wole be bought.

Such love I preise in no wise,

5050 Whanne it is goven for coveitise.

I preise no womman, though she be wood,

That yeveth hirsilf for ony good.

For litel shulde a man telle

Of hir, that wole hir body selle,

Be she mayde, be she wyf,

That quyk wole selle hir, bi hir lif.

Hou faire chere that evere she make,

He is a wrecche, I undirtake,

That loveth such on, for swete or sour,

5060 Though she hym calle hir paramour,

And laugheth on hym, and makith hym feeste.

For certeynly no such beeste

To be loved is not worthy,

Or bere the name of druery.

Noon shulde hir please, but he were wood,

That wole dispoile hym of his good.

Yit nevertheles, I wol not sey

That she, for solas and for pley,

[Ne] may a jewel or other thyng

5070 Take of her loves fre yevyng;

But that she aske it in no wise,

For drede of shame of coveitise.

And she of hirs may hym, certeyn,

Withoute sclaundre yeven ageyn,

And joyne her hertes togidre so

In love, and take and yeve also.

Trowe not that I wolde hem twynne,

Whanne in her love ther is no synne;

I wol that they togedre go,

5080 And don al that they han ado,

As curteis shulde and debonaire,

And in her love beren hem faire,

Withoute vice, bothe he and she,

So that alwey, in honeste,

Fro foly love they kepe hem cler,

That brenneth hertis with his fer;

And that her love, in ony wise,

Be devoide of coveitise.

Good love shulde engendrid be

5090 Of trewe herte, just, and secre,

And not of such as sette her thought

To have her lust and ellis nought --

So are they caught in Loves las,

Truly, for bodily solas.

Fleshly delit is so present

With thee, that sette all thyn entent

Withoute more (what shulde I glose?)

For to gete and have the Rose,

Which makith [thee] so mat and wood

5100 That thou desirest noon other good.

But thou art not an inche the nerre,

But evere abidist in sorwe and werre,

As in thi face it is sene.

It makith thee bothe pale and lene;

Thy myght, thi vertu goth away.

A sory gest, in goode fay,

Thou herberest than in thyn inn,

The God of Love whanne thou let inn!

Wherfore I rede, thou shette hym oute,

5110 Or he shall greve thee, out of doute;

For to thi profit it wol turne,

If he nomore with thee sojourne.

In gret myscheef and sorwe sonken

Ben hertis that of love arn dronken,

As thou peraventure knowen shall,

Whanne thou hast lost thy tyme all,

And spent thy youthe in ydilnesse,

In waste and wofull lustynesse.

If thou maist lyve the tyme to se

5120 Of love for to delyvered be,

Thy tyme thou shalt biwepe sore,

The whiche never thou maist restore;

For tyme lost, as men may see,

For nothyng may recured be.

And if thou scape yit, atte laste,

Fro Love, that hath thee so faste

Knytt and bounden in his las,

Certeyn I holde it but a gras.

For many oon, as it is seyn,

5130 Have lost and spent also in veyn,

In his servise, withoute socour,

Body and soule, good and tresour,

Wit and strengthe, and eke richesse,

Of which they hadde never redresse."

L'amant Thus taught and preched hath

Resoun, but Love spilte hir sermoun,

That was so ymped in my thought,

That hir doctrine I sette at nought.

And yitt ne seide she never a del

5140 That I ne undirstod it wel,

Word by word, the mater all;

But unto Love I was so thrall,

Which callith overall his pray,

He chasith so my thought alway,

And holdith myn herte undir his sel

As trust and trew as ony stel;

So that no devocioun

Ne hadde I in the sermoun

Of dame Resoun, ne of hir red.

5150 It tok no sojour in myn hed,

For all yede out at oon ere

That in that other she dide lere.

Fully on me she lost hir lore;

Hir speche me greved wondir sore.

Than unto hir for ire I seide,

For anger, as I dide abraide:

"Dame, and is it youre wille algate

That I not love, but that I hate

Alle men, as ye me teche?

5160 For if I do aftir youre speche,

Sith that ye seyn love is not good,

Thanne must I nedis ay with mood,

If I it leve, in hatrede ay

Lyven, and voide love away

From me, [and] [ben] a synfull wrecche

Hated of all [that] [love] that tecche.

I may not go noon other gate,

For other must I love or hate.

And if I hate men of-newe

5170 More than love, it wol me rewe,

As by youre preching semeth me,

For Love nothing ne preisith thee.

Ye yeve good counsel, sikirly,

That prechith me alday that I

Shulde not Loves lore alowe.

He were a fool, wolde you not trowe!

In speche also ye han me taught

Another love, that knowen is naught,

Which I have herd you not repreve,

5180 To love ech other. By youre leve,

If ye wolde diffyne it me,

I wolde gladly here, to se,

At the leest, if I may lere

Of sondry loves the manere."

Raisoun "Certis, freend, a fool art thou,

Whan that thou nothyng wolt allow

That I for thi profit say.

Yit wole I sey thee more in fay,

For I am redy, at the leste,

5190 To accomplisshe thi requeste.

But I not where it wole avayle;

In veyn, perauntre, I shal travayle.

Love ther is in sondry wise,

As I shal thee heere devise.

For som love leful is and good --

I mene not that which makith thee wood,

And bringith thee in many a fit,

And ravysshith fro thee al thi wit,

It is so merveilous and queynt;

5200 With such love be no more aqueynt.

"Love of freendshipp also ther is,

Which makith no man don amys,

Of wille knytt bitwixe two,

That wole not breke for wele ne woo;

Which long is likly to contune,

Whanne wille and goodis ben in comune;

Grounded by Goddis ordinaunce,

Hool, withoute discordaunce;

With hem holdyng comunte

5210 Of all her good in charite,

That ther be noon excepcioun

Thurgh chaungyng of entencioun;

That ech helpe other at her neede,

And wisely hele bothe word and dede;

Trewe of menyng, devoide of slouthe,

For witt is nought withoute trouthe;

So that the ton dar all his thought

Seyn to his freend, and spare nought,

As to hymsilf, without dredyng

5220 To be discovered by wreying.

For glad is that conjunccioun,

Whanne ther is noon susspecioun

[Of] [blame] [in] [hem], whom they wolde prove

That trewe and parfit weren in love.

For no man may be amyable,

But if he be so ferme and stable

That fortune chaunge hym not, ne blynde,

But that his freend allwey hym fynde,

Bothe pore and riche, in oo state.

5230 For if his freend, thurgh ony gate,

Wole compleyne of his poverte,

He shulde not bide so long til he

Of his helpyng hym requere;

For good dede, don thurgh praiere,

Is sold and bought to deere, iwys,

To hert that of gret valour is.

For hert fulfilled of gentilnesse

Can yvel demene his distresse;

And man that worthy is of name

5240 To asken often hath gret shame.

A good man brenneth in his thought

For shame, whanne he axeth ought.

He hath gret thought and dredeth ay

For his disese, whanne he shal pray

His freend, lest that he warned be,

Til that he preve his stabilte.

But whanne that he hath founden oon

That trusty is and trewe as ston,

And assaied hym at all,

5250 And founde hym stedefast as a wall,

And of his freendshipp be certeyn,

He shal hym shewe bothe joye and peyn,

And all that [he] dar thynke or sey,

Withoute shame, as he wel may.

For how shulde he ashamed be

Of sich on as I tolde thee?

For whanne he woot his secre thought,

The thridde shal knowe therof right nought;

For tweyne of noumbre is bet than thre

5260 In every counsell and secre.

Repreve he dredeth never a deel,

Who that bisett his wordis wel;

For every wise man, out of drede,

Can kepe his tunge til he se nede;

And fooles can not holde her tunge;

A fooles belle is soone runge.

Yit shal a trewe freend do more

To helpe his felowe of his sore,

And socoure hym, whanne he hath neede,

5270 In all that he may don in deede,

And gladder [be] that he hym plesith,

Than his felowe that he esith.

And if he do not his requeste,

He shal as mochel hym moleste

As his felow, for that he

May not fulfille his volunte

Fully, as he hath requered.

If bothe the hertis Love hath fered,

Joy and woo they shull depart,

5280 And take evenly ech his part.

Half his anoy he shal have ay,

And comfort [him] what that he may;

And of his blisse parte shal he,

If love wel departed be.

"And whilom of this amyte

Spak Tulius in a ditee:

`Man shulde maken his request

Unto his freend, that is honest;

And he goodly shulde it fulfille,

5290 But it the more were out of skile,

And otherwise not graunte therto,

Except oonly in causes twoo:

If men his freend to deth wolde drive,

Lat hym be bisy to save his lyve;

Also if men wolen hym assayle,

Of his wurshipp to make hym faile,

And hyndren hym of his renoun,

Lat hym, with full entencioun,

His dever don in ech degre

5300 That his freend ne shamed be.

In thise two caas with his myght,

Taking no kep to skile nor right,

As fer as love may hym excuse,

This oughte no man to refuse.'

This love that I have told to thee

Is nothing contrarie to me;

This wole I that thou folowe wel,

And leve the tother everydel.

This love to vertu all entendith,

5310 The tothir fooles blent and shendith.

"Another love also there is

That is contrarie unto this,

Which desir is so constreyned

That [it] is but wille feyned.

Awey fro trouthe it doth so varie

That to good love it is contrarie;

For it maymeth, in many wise,

Sike hertis with coveitise.

All in wynnyng and in profit

5320 Sich love settith his delit.

This love so hangeth in balaunce

That, if it lese his hope, perchaunce,

Of lucre, that he is sett upon,

It wole faile and quenche anoon;

For no man may be amerous,

Ne in his lyvyng vertuous,

But he love more, in mood,

Men for hemsilf than for her good.

For love that profit doth abide

5330 Is fals, and bit not in no tyde.

[This] love cometh of dame Fortune,

That litel while wol contune;

For it shal chaungen wonder soone,

And take eclips, right as the moone,

Whanne she is from us lett

Thurgh erthe, that bitwixe is sett

The sonne and hir, as it may fall,

Be it in partie, or in all.

The shadowe maketh her bemys merke,

5340 And hir hornes to shewe derke,

That part where she hath lost hir lyght

Of Phebus fully, and the sight;

Til, whanne the shadowe is overpast,

She is enlumyned ageyn as fast,

Thurgh the brightnesse of the sonne bemes,

That yeveth to hir ageyn hir lemes.

That love is right of sich nature;

Now is faire, and now obscure,

Now bright, now clipsi of manere,

5350 And whilom dym, and whilom clere.

As soone as Poverte gynneth take,

With mantel and wedis blake

Hidith of love the light awey,

That into nyght it turneth day,

It may not see Richesse shyne

Till the blak shadowes fyne.

For, whanne Richesse shyneth bright,

Love recovereth ageyn his light;

And whanne it failith he wol flit,

5360 And as she groweth, so groweth it.

Of this love -- here what I sey! --

The riche men are loved ay,

And namely tho that sparand ben,

That wole not wasshe her hertes clen

Of the filthe nor of the vice

Of gredy brennyng avarice.

The riche man full fonned is, ywys,

That weneth that he loved is.

If that his herte it undirstod,

5370 It is not he, it is his good;

He may wel witen in his thought,

His good is loved, and he right nought.

For if he be a nygard ek,

Men wole not sette by hym a lek,

But haten hym; this is the soth.

Lo, what profit his catell doth.

Of every man that may hym see

It geteth hym nought but enmyte.

But he amende hym of that vice,

5380 And knowe hymsilf, he is not wys.

Certys, he shulde ay freendly be,

To gete hym love also ben free,

Or ellis he is not wise ne sage

Nomore than is a goot ramage.

That he not loveth, his dede proveth,

Whan he his richesse so wel loveth

That he wole hide it ay and spare,

His pore freendis sen forfare,

To kepen ay his purpos,

5390 Til for drede his yen clos,

And til a wikked deth hym take.

Hym hadde lever asondre shake,

And late alle his lymes asondre ryve,

Than leve his richesse in his lyve.

He thenkith parte it with no man;

Certayn, no love is in hym than.

How shulde love withynne hym be,

Whanne in his herte is no pite?

That he trespasseth, wel I wat,

5400 For ech man knowith his estat;

For wel hym ought to be reproved

That loveth nought, ne is not loved.

"But sith we arn to Fortune comen,

And han oure sermoun of hir nomen,

A wondir will Y telle thee now,

Thou herdist never sich oon, I trow.

I not where thou me leven shall,

Though sothfastnesse it be all,

As it is writen, and is soth,

5410 That unto men more profit doth

The froward Fortune and contraire

Than the swote and debonaire.

And if thee thynke it is doutable,

It is thurgh argument provable;

For the debonaire and softe

Falsith and bigilith ofte;

For lyche a moder she can cherish,

And mylken as doth a norys,

And of hir goode to hem deles,

5420 And yeveth hem part of her joweles,

With gret richeses and dignite;

And hem she hoteth stabilite

In a stat that is not stable,

But chaungynge ay and variable;

And fedith hem with glorie veyn,

And worldly blisse noncerteyn.

Whanne she hem settith on hir whel,

Thanne wene they to be right wel,

And in so stable stat withalle,

5430 That never they wene for to falle.

And whanne they sette so highe be,

They wene to have in certeynte

Of hertly freendis so gret noumbre,

That nothyng myght her stat encombre.

They trust hem so on every side,

Wenyng with hem they wolde abide

In every perell and myschaunce,

Withoute chaunge or variaunce,

Bothe of catell and of good;

5440 And also for to spende her blood,

And all her membris for to spille,

Oonly to fulfille her wille.

They maken it hool in many wise,

And hoten hem her full servise,

How sore that it do hem smerte,

Into her naked sherte!

Herte and all so hool they yive,

For the tyme that they may lyve,

So that with her flaterie

5450 They maken foolis glorifie

Of her wordis spekyng,

And han therof a rejoysyng,

And trowe hem as the Evangile;

And it is all falsheede and gile,

As they shal aftirward se,

Whanne they arn falle in poverte

And ben of good and catell bare;

Thanne shulde they sen who freendis ware.

For of an hundred, certeynly,

5460 Nor of a thousand full scarsly,

Ne shal they fynde unnethis oon,

Whanne poverte is comen upon.

For this Fortune that I of telle,

With men whanne hir lust to dwelle,

Makith hem to leese her conisaunce,

And norishith hem in ignoraunce.

"But froward Fortune and pervers,

Whanne high estatis she doth revers,

And maketh hem to tumble doun

5470 Of hir whel, with sodeyn tourn,

And from her richesse doth hem fle,

And plongeth hem in poverte,

As a stepmoder envyous,

And leieth a plastre dolorous

Unto her hertis, wounded egre,

Which is not tempred with vynegre,

But with poverte and indigence,

For to shewe, by experience,

That she is Fortune verely,

5480 In whom no man shulde affy,

Nor in hir yeftis have fiaunce,

She is so full of variaunce --

Thus kan she maken high and lowe,

Whanne they from richesse arn throwe,

Fully to knowen, without were,

Freend of affect and freend of chere,

And which in love weren trewe and stable,

And whiche also weren variable,

After Fortune, her goddesse,

5490 In poverte outher in richesse.

For all she yeveth here, out of drede,

Unhap bereveth it in dede;

For Infortune lat not oon

Of freendis, whanne Fortune is gon;

I mene tho freendis that wole fle

Anoon as entreth poverte.

And yit they wole not leve hem so,

But in ech place where they go

They calle hem `wrecche,' scorne, and blame,

5500 And of her myshappe hem diffame;

And namely siche as in richesse

Pretendith moost of stablenesse,

Whanne that they sawe hym sett on lofte,

And weren of hym socoured ofte,

And most yholpe in all her neede.

But now they take no maner heede,

But seyn in voice of flaterie,

That now apperith her folye,

Overall where so they fare,

5510 And synge, `Go, farewel, feldefare.'

All suche freendis I beshrewe,

For of trewe ther be to fewe.

But sothfast freendis, what so bitide,

In every fortune wolen abide;

Thei han her hertis in such noblesse

That they nyl love for no richesse,

Nor for that Fortune may hem sende

Thei wolen hem socoure and defende,

And chaunge for softe ne for sore;

5520 For who is freend, loveth evermore.

Though men drawe swerd his freend to slo,

He may not hewe her love a-two.

But, in cas that I shall sey,

For pride and ire lese it he may,

And for reprove by nycete,

And discovering of privite,

With tonge woundyng, as feloun,

Thurgh venemous detraccioun.

Frend in this cas wole gon his way,

5530 For nothyng greve hym more ne may;

And for nought ellis wole he fle,

If that he love in stabilite.

And certeyn, he is wel bigon,

Among a thousand that fyndith oon.

For ther may be no richesse

Ageyns frendshipp, of worthynesse;

For it ne may so high atteigne

As may the valour, soth to seyne,

Of hym that loveth trew and well.

5540 Frendshipp is more than is catell.

For freend in court ay better is

Than peny in purs, certis;

And Fortune myshappyng

Whanne upon men she is fallyng,

Thurgh mysturnyng of hir chaunce,

And casteth hem out of balaunce,

She makith, thurgh hir adversite,

Men full clerly for to se

Hym that is freend in existence

5550 From hym that is by apparence.

For Ynfortune makith anoon

To knowe thy freendis fro thy foon,

By experience, right as it is,

The which is more to preise, ywis,

Than is myche richesse and tresour.

For more doth profit and valour

Poverte and such adversite

Bifore, than doth prosperite;

For the toon yeveth conysaunce,

5560 And the tother ignoraunce.

"And thus in poverte is in dede

Trouthe declared fro falsheede;

For feynte frendis it wole declare,

And trewe also, what wey they fare.

For whanne he was in his richesse,

These freendis, ful of doublenesse,

Offrid hym in many wise

Hert, and body, and servise.

What wolde he thanne ha yove to ha bought

5570 To knowen openly her thought,

That he now hath so clerly seen?

The lasse bigiled he shulde have ben,

And he hadde thanne perceyved it;

But richesse nold not late hym wit.

Wel more avauntage doth hym than,

Sith that it makith hym a wise man,

The gret myscheef that he receyveth,

Than doth richesse that hym deceyveth.

Richesse riche ne makith nought

5580 Hym that on tresour set his thought;

For richesse stont in suffisaunce

And nothyng in habundaunce;

For suffisaunce all oonly

Makith men to lyve richely.

For he that at mycches tweyne

Ne valued [is. in his demeigne,

Lyveth more at ese, and more is riche,

Than doth he that is chiche,

And in his berne hath, soth to seyn,

5590 An hundred mowis of whete greyn,

Though he be chapman or marchaunt,

And have of gold many besaunt.

For in the getyng he hath such woo,

And in the kepyng drede also,

And set evermore his bisynesse

For to encrese, and not to lesse,

For to aument and multiply.

And though on hepis it lye hym by,

Yit never shal make his richesse

5600 Asseth unto his gredynesse.

But the povre that recchith nought,

Save of his lyflode, in his thought,

Which that he getith with his travaile,

He dredith nought that it shall faile,

Though he have lytel worldis good,

Mete, and drynke, and esy food,

Upon his travel and lyvyng,

And also suffisaunt clothyng.

Or if in syknesse that he falle,

5610 And loth. mete and drynke withalle,

Though he have noght his mete to by,

He shal bithynke hym hastily,

To putte hym oute of all daunger,

That he of mete hath no myster;

Or that he may with lytel ek

Be founden, while that he is sek;

Or that men shull hym beren in hast,

To lyve til his syknesse be past,

To som maysondew biside;

5620 He cast nought what shal hym bitide.

He thenkith nought that evere he shall

Into ony syknesse fall.

"And though it falle, as it may be,

That all betyme spare shall he

As mochel as shal to hym suffice,

While he is sik in ony wise,

He doth [it] for that he wole be

Content with his poverte

Withoute nede of ony man.

5630 So myche in litel have he can,

He is apaied with his fortune;

And for he nyl be importune

Unto no wight, ne onerous,

Nor of her goodes coveitous,

Therfore he spareth, it may wel ben,

His pore estat for to susten.

"Or if hym lust not for to spare,

But suffrith forth, as noght ne ware,

Atte last it hapneth, as it may,

5640 Right unto his laste day,

And taketh the world as it wolde be;

For evere in herte thenkith he,

The sonner that deth hym slo,

To paradys the sonner go

He shal, there for to lyve in blisse,

Where that he shal noo good misse.

Thider he hopith God shal hym sende

Aftir his wrecchid lyves ende.

Pictigoras hymsilf reherses

5650 In a book that `The Golden Verses'

Is clepid, for the nobilite

Of the honourable ditee: --

`Thanne, whanne thou gost thy body fro,

Fre in the eir thou shalt up go,

And leven al humanite,

And purely lyve in deite.'

He is a fool, withouten were,

That trowith have his countre heere.

`In erthe is not oure countre,'

5660 That may these clerkis seyn and see

In Boece of Consolacioun,

Where it is maked mencioun

Of oure contre pleyn at the ye,

By teching of Philosophie,

Where lewid men myght lere wit,

Whoso that wolde translaten it.

If he be sich that can wel lyve

Aftir his rente may hym yive,

And not desireth more to have

5670 Than may fro poverte hym save,

A wise man seide, as we may seen,

Is no man wrecched, but he it wen,

Be he kyng, knyght, or ribaud.

And many a ribaud is mery and baud,

That swynkith, and berith, bothe day and nyght,

Many a burthen of gret myght,

The whiche doth hym lasse offense

For he suffrith in pacience.

They laugh and daunce, trippe and synge,

5680 And ley not up for her lyvynge,

But in the taverne all dispendith

The wynnyng that God hem sendith.

Thanne goth he, fardeles for to ber

With as good chere as he dide er.

To swynke and traveile he not feynith,

For for to robben he disdeynith.

But right anoon aftir his swynk

He goth to taverne for to drynk.

All these ar riche in abundaunce

5690 That can thus have suffisaunce

Wel more than can an usurere,

As God wel knowith, withoute were.

For an usurer, so God me se,

Shal nevere for richesse riche be,

But evermore pore and indigent,

Scarce and gredy in his entent.

"For soth it is, whom it displese,

Ther may no marchaunt lyve at ese;

His herte in sich a were is sett

5700 That it quyk brenneth [more] to get,

Ne never shal ynogh have geten,

Though he have gold in gerners yeten,

For to be nedy he dredith sore.

Wherfore to geten more and more

He set his herte and his desir;

So hote he brennyth in the fir

Of coveitise, that makith hym wood

To purchace other mennes good.

He undirfongith a gret peyne,

5710 That undirtakith to drynke up Seyne;

For the more he drynkith, ay

The more he leveth, the soth to say.

Thus is thurst of fals getyng,

That last ever in coveityng,

And the angwisshe and distresse

With the fir of gredynesse.

She fightith with hym ay, and stryveth,

That his herte asondre ryveth.

Such gredynesse hym assaylith

5720 That whanne he most hath, most he failith.

Phisiciens and advocates

Gon right by the same yates;

They selle her science for wynnyng,

And haunte her craft for gret getyng.

Her wynnyng is of such swetnesse

That if a man falle in siknesse,

They are full glad for her encres;

For by her wille, withoute lees,

Everich man shulde be sek,

5730 And though they die, they sette not a lek.

After, whanne they the gold have take,

Full litel care for hem they make.

They wolde that fourty were seke at onys,

Ye, two hundred, in flesh and bonys,

And yit two thousand, as I gesse,

For to encrecen her richesse.

They wole not worchen, in no wise,

But for lucre and coveitise.

For fysic gynneth first by fy,

5740 The physicien also sothely;

And sithen it goth fro fy to sy:

To truste on hem is foly;

For they nyl, in no maner gre,

Do right nought for charite.

"Eke in the same secte ar sett

All tho that prechen for to get

Worshipes, honour, and richesse.

Her hertis arn in gret distresse

That folk lyve not holily.

5750 But aboven all, specialy,

Sich as prechen [for] veynglorie,

And toward God have no memorie,

But forth as ypocrites trace,

And to her soules deth purchace,

And outward shewen holynesse,

Though they be full of cursidnesse.

Not liche to the apostles twelve,

They deceyve other and hemselve.

Bigiled is the giler than,

5760 For prechyng of a cursed man,

Though [it] to other may profite,

Hymsilf it availeth not a myte;

For ofte good predicacioun

Cometh of evel entencioun.

To hym not vailith his preching,

All helpe he other with his teching;

For where they good ensaumple take,

There is he with veynglorie shake.

"But late us leven these prechoures,

5770 And speke of hem that in her toures

Hepe up hir gold, and faste shette,

And sore theron her herte sette.

They neither love God ne drede;

They kepe more than it is nede,

And in her bagges sore it bynde,

Out of the sonne and of the wynde.

They putte up more than nede ware,

Whanne they seen pore folk forfare,

For hunger die, and for cold quake.

5780 God can wel vengeaunce therof take!

Three gret myscheves hem assailith,

And thus in gadring ay travaylith.

With myche peyne they wynne richesse;

And drede hem holdith in distresse

To kepe that they gadre faste;

With sorwe they leve it at the laste.

With sorwe they bothe dye and lyve,

That unto richesse her hertis yive;

And in defaute of love it is,

5790 As it shewith ful wel, iwys.

For if thise gredy, the sothe to seyn,

Loveden and were loved ageyn,

And good love regned overall,

Such wikkidnesse ne shulde fall;

But he shulde yeve that most good had

To hem that weren in nede bistad,

And lyve withoute false usure,

For charite full clene and pure.

If they hem yeve to goodnesse,

5800 Defendyng hem from ydelnesse,

In all this world thanne pore noon

We shulde fynde, I trowe, not oon.

But chaunged is this world unstable,

For love is overall vendable.

We se that no man loveth now,

But for wynnyng and for prow;

And love is thralled in servage,

Whanne it is sold for avauntage.

Yit wommen wole her bodyes selle;

5810 Suche soules goth to the devel of helle!"

FRAGMENT C

Whanne Love hadde told hem his entente,

The baronage to councel wente.

In many sentences they fille,

And dyversely they seide hir wille;

But aftir discord they accorded,

And her accord to Love recorded.

"Sir," seiden they, "we ben at on,

Bi evene accord of everichon,

Out-take Richesse al oonly,

5820 That sworen hath ful hauteynly,

That she the castel nyl not assaile,

Ne smyte a strok in this bataile,

With darte, ne mace, spere, ne knyf,

For man that spekith or berith the lyf,

And blameth youre emprise, iwys,

And from oure hoost departed is,

Atte leste wey, as in this plyt,

So hath she this man in dispit.

For she seith he ne loved hir never,

5830 And therfore she wole hate hym evere.

For he wole gadre no tresor,

He hath hir wrath for evermor.

He agylte hir never in other caas,

Lo, heere all hoolly his trespas!

She seith wel that this other day

He axide hir leve to gon the way

That is clepid To-Moche-Yevyng,

And spak full faire in his praiyng;

But whanne he praiede hir, pore was he,

5840 Therfore she warned hym the entre.

Ne yit is he not thryven so

That he hath geten a peny or two

That quytly is his owne in hold.

Thus hath Richesse us alle told,

And whanne Richesse us this recorded,

Withouten hir we ben accorded.

"And we fynde in oure accordaunce

That Fals-Semblant and Abstinaunce,

With all the folk of her bataille,

5850 Shull at the hyndre gate assayle,

That Wikkid-Tunge hath in kepyng,

With his Normans full of janglyng.

And with hem Curtesie and Largesse,

That shull shewe her hardynesse

To the olde wyf that kepte so harde

Fair-Welcomyng withynne her warde.

Thanne shal Delit and Wel-Heelynge

Fonde Shame adown to brynge;

With all her oost, erly and late,

5860 They shull assailen that ilke gate.

Agaynes Drede shall Hardynesse

Assayle, and also Sikernesse,

With all the folk of her ledyng,

That never wist what was fleyng.

"Fraunchise shall fight, and eke Pite,

With Daunger, full of cruelte.

Thus is youre hoost ordeyned wel.

Doun shall the castell every del,

If everich do his entent,

5870 So that Venus be present,

Youre modir, full of vasselage,

That can ynough of such usage.

Withouten hir may no wight spede

This werk, neithir for word ne deede;

Therfore is good ye for hir sende,

For thurgh hir may this werk amende."

"Lordynges, my modir, the goddesse,

That is my lady and my maistresse,

Nis not [at] all at my willyng,

5880 Ne doth not all my desiryng.

Yit can she som tyme don labour,

Whanne that hir lust, in my socour,

Al my nedes for to acheve,

But now I thenke hir not to greve.

My modir is she, and of childhede

I bothe worshipe hir and eke drede;

For who that dredith sire ne dame,

Shal it abye in body or name.

And, natheles, yit kunne we

5890 Sende aftir hir, if nede be;

And were she nygh, she comen wolde;

I trowe that nothyng myght hir holde.

"Mi modir is of gret prowesse;

She hath tan many a forteresse,

That cost hath many a pound, er this,

There I nas not present, ywis.

And yit men seide it was my dede;

But I com never in that stede,

Ne me ne likith, so mote I the,

5900 That such toures ben take withoute me.

For-why me thenkith that, in no wise,

It may ben clepid but marchandise.

"Go bye a courser, blak or whit,

And pay therfore; than art thou quyt.

The marchaunt owith thee right nought,

Ne thou hym, whanne thou it bought.

I wole not sellyng clepe yevyng,

For sellyng axeth no guerdonyng:

Here lith no thank ne no merit;

5910 That oon goth from that other al quyt.

But this sellyng is not semblable;

For whanne his hors is in the stable,

He may it selle ageyn, parde,

And wynnen on it, such hap may be;

All may the man not leese, iwys,

For at the leest the skyn is his.

Or ellis, if it so bitide

That he wole kepe his hors to ride,

Yit is he lord ay of his hors.

5920 But thilke chaffare is wel wors,

There Venus entremetith ought.

For whoso such chaffare hath bought,

He shal not worchen so wisely

That he ne shal leese al outerly

Bothe his money and his chaffare;

But the seller of the ware

The prys and profit have shall.

Certeyn, the bier shal leese all.

For he ne can so dere it bye

5930 To have lordship and full maistrie,

Ne have power to make lettyng,

Neithir for yift ne for prechyng,

That of his chaffare, maugre his,

Another shal have as moche, iwis,

If he wol yeve as myche as he,

Of what contrey so that he be --

Or for right nought, so happe may,

If he can flater hir to hir pay.

Ben thanne siche marchauntz wise?

5940 No, but fooles in every wise,

Whanne they bye sich thyng wilfully,

There as they leese her good fully.

But natheles, this dar I saye,

My modir is not wont to paye,

For she is neither so fool ne nyce

To entremete hir of sich vice.

But truste wel, he shal pay all,

That repent of his bargeyn shall,

Whanne poverte putte hym in distresse,

5950 All were he scoler to Richesse,

That is for me in gret yernyng,

Whanne she assentith to my willyng.

"But [by] my modir, seint Venus,

And by hir fader Saturnus,

That hir engendride by his lyf --

But not upon his weddid wyf --

Yit wole I more unto you swer,

To make this thyng the seurere --

Now by that feith and that leaute

5960 That I owe to all my britheren fre,

Of which ther nys wight undir heven

That kan her fadris names neven,

So dyverse and so many ther be

That with my modir have be prive!

Yit wolde I swere, for sikirnesse,

The pol of helle to my witnesse --

Now drynke I not this yeer clarre,

If that I lye or forsworn be!

(For of the goddes the usage is

5970 That whoso hym forswereth amys

Shal that yeer drynke no clarre.)

Now have I sworn ynough, pardee,

If I forswere me, thanne am I lorn,

But I wole never be forsworn.

Syth Richesse hath me failed heere,

She shal abye that trespas ful dere,

Atte leeste wey, but [she] hir arme

With swerd, or sparth, or gysarme.

For certis, sith she loveth not me,

5980 Fro thilke tyme that she may se

The castell and the tour toshake,

In sory tyme she shal awake.

If I may grype a riche man,

I shal so pulle hym, if I can,

That he shal in a fewe stoundes

Lese all his markis and his poundis.

I shal hym make his pens outslynge,

But they in his gerner sprynge.

Oure maydens shal eke pluk hym so

5990 That hym shal neden fetheres mo,

And make hym selle his lond to spende,

But he the bet kunne hym defende.

"Pore men han maad her lord of me;

Although they not so myghty be

That they may fede me in delit,

I wol not have hem in despit.

No good man hateth hem, as I gesse,

For chynche and feloun is Richesse,

That so can chase hem and dispise,

6000 And hem defoule in sondry wise.

They loven full bet, so God me spede,

Than doth the riche, chynchy gnede,

And ben, in good feith, more stable

And trewer and more serviable;

And therfore it suffisith me

Her goode herte and her leaute.

They han on me set all her thought,

And therfore I forgete hem nought.

I wol hem bringe in gret noblesse,

6010 If that I were god of richesse,

As I am god of love sothly,

Sich routhe upon her pleynt have I.

Therfore I must his socour be,

That peyneth hym to serven me,

For if he deide for love of this,

Thanne semeth in me no love ther is."

"Sir," seide they, "soth is every deel

That ye reherce, and we wote wel

Thilk oth to holde is resonable;

6020 For it is good and covenable

That ye on riche men han sworn.

For, sir, this wote we wel biforn:

If riche men don you homage,

That is as fooles don outrage;

But ye shull not forsworn be,

Ne lette therfore to drynke clarre,

Or pyment makid fresh and newe.

Ladies shull hem such pepir brewe,

If that they fall into her laas,

6030 That they for woo mowe seyn `allas!'

Ladyes shullen evere so curteis be

That they shal quyte youre oth all free.

Ne sekith never othir vicaire,

For they shal speke with hem so faire

That ye shal holde you paied full wel,

Though ye you medle never a del.

Late ladies worche with her thyngis,

They shal hem telle so fele tidynges,

And moeve hem eke so many requestis

6040 Bi flateri, that not honest is,

And therto yeve hem such thankynges,

What with kissyng and with talkynges,

That, certis, if they trowed be,

Shal never leve hem lond ne fee

That it nyl as the moeble fare,

Of which they first delyverid are.

Now may ye telle us all youre wille,

And we youre heestes shal fulfille.

"But Fals-Semblant dar not, for drede

6050 Of you, sir, medle hym of this dede,

For he seith that ye ben his foo;

He not if ye wole worche hym woo.

Wherfore we pray you alle, beau sire,

That ye forgyve hym now your ire,

And that he may dwelle, as your man,

With Abstinence, his dere lemman;

This oure accord and oure wille now."

"Parfay," seide Love, "I graunte it yow.

I wole wel holde hym for my man;

6060 Now late hym come" -- and he forth ran.

"Fals-Semblant," quod Love, "in this wise

I take thee heere to my servise,

That thou oure freendis helpe alway,

And hyndre hem neithir nyght ne day,

But do thy myght hem to releve,

And eke oure enemyes that thou greve.

Thyn be this myght, I graunte it thee,

My kyng of harlotes shalt thou be;

We wole that thou have such honour.

6070 Certeyn, thou art a fals traitour,

And eke a theef; sith thou were born,

A thousand tyme thou art forsworn.

But natheles, in oure heryng,

To putte oure folk out of doutyng,

I bidde thee teche hem, wostow how,

Bi som general signe now,

In what place thou shalt founden be,

If that men had myster of thee;

And how men shal thee best espye,

6080 For thee to knowe is gret maistrie.

Telle in what place is thyn hauntyng."

"Sir, I have fele dyvers wonyng,

That I kepe not rehersed be,

So that ye wolde respiten me.

For if that I telle you the sothe,

I may have harm and shame bothe.

If that my felowes wisten it,

My talis shulden me be quytt;

For certeyn, they wolde hate me,

6090 If ever I knewe her cruelte.

For they wolde overall holde hem stille

Of trouthe that is ageyne her wille;

Suche tales kepen they not here.

I myght eftsoone bye it full deere,

If I seide of hem ony thing

That ought displesith to her heryng.

For what word that hem prikke or biteth,

In that word noon of hem deliteth,

Al were it gospel, the evangile,

6100 That wolde reprove hem of her gile,

For they are cruel and hauteyn.

And this thyng wot I well, certeyn,

If I speke ought to peire her loos,

Your court shal not so well be cloos

That they ne shall wite it atte last.

Of good men am I nought agast,

For they wole taken on hem nothyng,

Whanne that they knowe al my menyng;

But he that wole it on hym take,

6110 He wole hymsilf suspecious make,

That he his lyf let covertly

In Gile and in Ipocrisy

That me engendred and yaf fostryng."

"They made a full good engendryng,"

Quod Love, "for whoso sothly telle,

They engendred the devel of helle!

But nedely, howsoevere it be,"

Quod Love, "I wole and charge thee

To telle anoon thy wonyng places,

6120 Heryng ech wight that in this place is.

And what lyf that thou lyvest also.

Hide it no lenger now; wherto?

Thou most discovere all thi wurchyng,

How thou servest, and of what thyng,

Though that thou shuldist for thi soth-sawe

Ben al tobeten and todrawe --

And yit art thou not wont, pardee.

But natheles, though thou beten be,

Thou shalt not be the first that so

6130 Hath for sothsawe suffred woo."

"Sir, sith that it may liken you,

Though that I shulde be slayn right now,

I shal don youre comaundement,

For therto have I gret talent."

Withouten wordis mo, right than,

Fals-Semblant his sermon bigan,

And seide hem thus in audience:

"Barouns, take heede of my sentence!

That wight that list to have knowing

6140 Of Fals-Semblant, full of flatering,

He must in worldly folk hym seke,

And, certes, in the cloistres eke.

I wone nowhere but in hem tweye,

But not lyk even, soth to seye.

Shortly, I wole herberwe me

There I hope best to hulstred be,

And certeynly, sikerest hidyng

Is undirnethe humblest clothing.

Religiouse folk ben full covert;

6150 Seculer folk ben more appert.

But natheles, I wole not blame

Religious folk, ne hem diffame,

In what habit that ever they go.

Religioun umble and trewe also,

Wole I not blame ne dispise;

But I nyl love it, in no wise.

I mene of fals religious,

That stoute ben and malicious,

That wolen in an abit goo,

6160 And setten not her herte therto.

"Religious folk ben al pitous;

Thou shalt not seen oon dispitous.

They loven no pride ne no strif,

But humbly they wole lede her lyf.

With swich folk wole I never be,

And if I dwelle, I feyne me.

I may wel in her abit go;

But me were lever my nekke a-two,

Than lete a purpos that I take,

6170 What covenaunt that ever I make.

I dwelle with hem that proude be,

And full of wiles and subtilte,

That worship of this world coveiten,

And grete nedes kunnen espleiten,

And gon and gadren gret pitaunces,

And purchace hem the acqueyntaunces

Of men that myghty lyf may leden;

And feyne hem pore, and hemsilf feden

With gode morcels delicious,

6180 And drinken good wyn precious,

And preche us povert and distresse,

And fisshen hemsilf gret richesse

With wily nettis that they caste.

It wole come foule out at the laste.

They ben fro clene religioun went;

They make the world an argument

That [hath. a foul conclusioun.

`I have a robe of religioun,

Thanne am I all religious.'

6190 This argument is all roignous;

It is not worth a croked brere.

Abit ne makith neithir monk ne frere,

But clene lyf and devocioun

Makith gode men of religioun.

Natheles, ther kan noon answere,

How high that evere his heed he shere,

With resoun whetted never so kene,

That Gile in braunches kut thrittene;

Ther can no wight distincte it so,

6200 That he dar sey a word therto.

"But what herberwe that ever I take,

Or what semblant that evere I make,

I mene but gile, and folowe that;

For right no mo than Gibbe oure cat,

Ne entende I but to bigilyng.

Ne no wight may by my clothing

Wite with what folk is my dwellyng,

Ne by my wordis yit, parde,

6210 So softe and so plesaunt they be.

Bihold the dedis that I do;

But thou be blynd, thou oughtest so;

For, varie her wordis fro her deede,

They thenke on gile, withoute dreede,

What maner clothing that they were,

Or what estat that evere they bere,

Lered or lewde, lord or lady,

Knyght, squyer, burgeis, or bayly."

Right thus while Fals-Semblant sermoneth,

6220 Eftsones Love hym aresoneth,

And brak his tale in his spekyng,

As though he had hym told lesyng,

And seide, "What, devel, is that I here?

What folk hast thou us nempned heere?

May men fynde religioun

In worldly habitacioun?"

"Ye, sir; it folowith not that they

Shulde lede a wikked lyf, parfey,

Ne not therfore her soules leese

6230 That hem to worldly clothes chese;

For, certis, it were gret pitee.

Men may in seculer clothes see

Florishen hooly religioun.

Full many a seynt in feeld and toun,

With many a virgine glorious,

Devout, and full religious,

Han deied, that comun cloth ay beeren,

Yit seyntes nevere the lesse they weren.

I cowde reken you many a ten;

6240 Ye, wel nygh [al] these hooly wymmen

That men in chirchis herie and seke,

Bothe maydens and these wyves eke

That baren full many a fair child heere,

Wered alwey clothis seculere,

And in the same dieden they

That seyntes weren, and ben alwey.

The eleven thousand maydens deere

That beren in heven hir ciergis clere,

Of whiche men rede in chirche and synge,

6250 Were take in seculer clothinge

Whanne they resseyved martirdom,

And wonnen hevene unto her hom.

Good herte makith the goode thought;

The clothing yeveth ne reveth nought.

The goode thought and the worching,

That makith the religioun flowryng,

Ther lyth the good religioun,

Aftir the right entencioun.

"Whoso took a wethers skyn,

6260 And wrapped a gredy wolf theryn,

For he shulde go with lambis whyte,

Wenest thou not he wolde hem bite?

Yis, neverthelasse, as he were wood,

He wolde hem wery and drinke the blood,

And wel the rather hem disceyve;

For, sith they cowde not perceyve

His treget and his cruelte,

They wolde hym folowe, al wolde he fle.

"If ther be wolves of sich hewe

6270 Amonges these apostlis newe,

Thou hooly chirche, thou maist be wailed!

Sith that thy citee is assayled

Thourgh knyghtis of thyn owne table,

God wot thi lordship is doutable!

If thei enforce [hem] it to wynne

That shulde defende it fro withynne,

Who myght defense ayens hem make?

Withoute strok it mot be take

Of trepeget or mangonel,

6280 Without displaiyng of pensel.

And if God nyl don it socour,

But lat [hem] renne in this colour,

Thou most thyn heestis laten be.

Thanne is ther nought but yelde thee,

Or yeve hem tribut, doutelees,

And holde it of hem to have pees,

But gretter harm bitide thee,

That they al maister of it be.

Wel konne they scorne thee withal;

6290 By day stuffen they the wall,

And al the nyght they mynen there.

Nay, thou planten most elleswhere

Thyn ympes, if thou wolt fruyt have;

Abid not there thisilf to save.

"But now pees! Heere I turne ageyn.

I wole nomore of this thing seyn,

If I may passen me herby;

I myghte maken you wery.

But I wole heten you alway

6300 To helpe youre freendis what I may,

So they wollen my company;

For they be shent al outerly,

But if so falle that I be

Ofte with hem, and they with me.

And eke my lemman mote they serve,

Or they shull not my love deserve.

Forsothe, I am a fals traitour;

God jugged me for a theef trichour.

Forsworn I am, but wel nygh non

6310 Wot of my gile, til it be don.

"Thourgh me hath many oon deth resseyved,

That my treget nevere aperceyved;

And yit resseyveth, and shal resseyve,

That my falsnesse shal nevere aperceyve.

But whoso doth, if he wis be,

Hym is right good be war of me,

But so sligh is the deceyvyng

For Protheus, that cowde hym chaunge

6320 In every shap, homly and straunge,

Cowde nevere sich gile ne tresoun

As I; for I com never in toun

There as I myghte knowen be,

Though men me bothe myght here and see.

Full wel I can my clothis chaunge,

Take oon, and make another straunge.

Now am I knyght, now chasteleyn,

Now prelat, and now chapeleyn,

Now prest, now clerk, and now forster;

6330 Now am I maister, now scoler,

Now monk, now chanoun, now baily;

Whatever myster man am I.

Now am I prince, now am I page,

And kan by herte every langage.

Som tyme am I hor and old;

Now am I yong, stout, and bold;

Now am I Robert, now Robyn,

Now Frere Menour, now Jacobyn;

And with me folwith my loteby,

6340 To don me solas and company,

That hight Dame Abstinence-Streyned,

In many a queynte array feyned.

Ryght as it cometh to hir lykyng,

I fulfille al hir desiryng.

Somtyme a wommans cloth take I;

Now am I a mayde, now lady.

Somtyme I am religious;

Now lyk an anker in an hous.

Somtyme am I prioresse,

6350 And now a nonne, and now abbesse;

And go thurgh alle regiouns,

Sekyng alle religiouns.

But to what ordre that I am sworn,

I take the strawe, and lete the corn.

To gyle folk I enhabit;

I axe nomore but her abit.

What wole ye more in every wise?

Right as me lyst, I me disgise.

Wel can I wre me undir wede;

6360 Unlyk is my word to my dede.

[I] make into my trappis falle,

Thurgh my pryveleges, alle

That ben in Cristendom alyve.

I may assoile and I may shryve,

That no prelat may lette me,

All folk, where evere thei founde be.

I not no prelat may don so,

But it the pope be, and no mo,

That made thilk establisshing.

6370 Now is not this a propre thing?

But, were my sleightis aperceyved

As I was wont, and wostow why?

For I dide hem a tregetry.

But therof yeve I lytel tale;

I have the silver and the male.

So have I prechid, and eke shriven,

So have I take, so have me yiven,

Thurgh her foly, husbonde and wyf,

6380 That I lede right a joly lyf,

Thurgh symplesse of the prelacye --

They knowe not al my tregettrie.

"But forasmoche as man and wyf

Shulde shewe her paroch-prest her lyf,

Onys a yeer, as seith the book,

Er ony wight his housel took,

Thanne have I pryvylegis large,

That may of myche thing discharge.

For he may seie right thus, parde:

6390 `Sir preest, in shrift I telle it thee,

That he to whom that I am shryven

Hath me assoiled, and me yiven

Penaunce, sothly, for my synne,

Which that I fond me gilty ynne;

Ne I ne have nevere entencioun

To make double confessioun,

Ne reherce eft my shrift to thee.

O shrift is right ynough to me.

This oughte thee suffice wel;

6400 Ne be not rebel never a del.

For certis, though thou haddist it sworn,

I wot no prest ne prelat born,

That may to shrift eft me constreyne;

And if they don, I wole me pleyne,

For I wot where to pleyne wel.

Thou shalt not streyne me a del,

Ne enforce me, ne not me trouble,

To make my confessioun double.

Ne I have non affeccioun

6410 To have double absolucioun.

The firste is right ynough to me;

This latter assoilyng quyte I thee.

I am unbounde -- what maist thou fynde

More of my synnes me to unbynde?

For he, that myght hath in his hond,

Of all my synnes me unbond.

And if thou wolt me thus constreyne

That me mot nedis on thee pleyne,

There shall no jugge imperial,

6420 Ne bisshop, ne official,

Don jugement on me; for I

Shal gon and pleyne me openly

Unto my shrifte-fadir newe

(That hight not Frere Wolf untrewe!),

And he shal cheveys hym for me,

For I trowe he can hampre thee.

But, Lord, he wolde be wrooth withalle,

If men hym wolde Frere Wolf calle!

For he wolde have no pacience,

6430 But don al cruel vengeaunce.

He wolde his myght don at the leeste,

Nothing spare for Goddis heeste.

And, God so wys be my socour,

But thou yeve me my Savyour

At Ester, whanne it likith me,

Withoute presyng more on thee,

I wole forth, and to hym gon,

And he shal housel me anoon.

For I am out of thi grucching;

6440 I kepe not dele with thee nothing.'

"Thus may he shryve hym, that forsaketh

His paroch-prest, and to me taketh.

And if the prest wole hym refuse,

I am full redy hym to accuse,

And hym punysshe and hampre so

That he his chirche shal forgo.

"But whoso hath in his felyng

The consequence of such shryvyng,

Shal sen that prest may never have myght

6450 To knowe the conscience aright

Of hym that is undir his cure.

And this ageyns holy scripture,

That biddith every heerde honest

Have verry knowing of his beest.

But pore folk that gone by strete,

That have no gold, ne sommes grete,

Hem wolde I lete to her prelates,

Or lete her prestis knowe her states,

For to me right nought yeve they.

6460 And why? It is for they ne may.

They ben so bare, I take no kep,

But I wole have the fatte sheep;

Lat parish prestis have the lene.

I yeve not of her harm a bene!

And if that prelates grucchen it,

That oughten wroth be in her wit

To leese her fatte beestes so,

I shal yeve hem a strok or two,

That they shal leesen with force,

6470 Ye, bothe her mytre and her croce.

Thus jape I hem, and have do longe,

My pryveleges ben so stronge."

Fals-Semblant wolde have stynted heere,

But Love ne made hym no such cheere

That he was wery of his sawe;

But for to make hym glad and fawe,

He seide, "Telle on more specialy

Hou that thou servest untrewly.

Telle forth, and shame thee never a del;

6480 For, as thyn abit shewith wel,

Thou semest an hooly heremyte."

"Soth is, but I am an ypocrite."

"Thou gost and prechest poverte."

"Ye, sir, but richesse hath pouste."

"Thou prechest abstinence also."

"Sir, I wole fillen, so mote I go,

My paunche of good mete and wyn,

As shulde a maister of dyvyn;

For how that I me pover feyne,

6490 Yit alle pore folk I disdeyne.

"I love bettir th' acqueyntaunce,

Ten tyme, of the kyng of Fraunce

Than of a pore man of mylde mod,

Though that his soule be also god.

For whanne I see beggers quakyng,

Naked on myxnes al stynkyng,

For hungre crie, and eke for care,

I entremete not of her fare.

They ben so pore and ful of pyne,

6500 They myght not oonys yeve me dyne,

For they have nothing but her lyf.

What shulde he yeve that likketh his knyf?

It is but foly to entremete,

To seke in houndes nest fat mete.

Lete bere hem to the spitel anoon,

But, for me, comfort gete they noon.

But a riche sik usurer

Wolde I visite and drawe ner;

Hym wole I comforte and rehete,

6510 For I hope of his gold to gete.

And if that wikkid deth hym have,

I wole go with hym to his grave.

And if ther ony reprove me,

Why that I lete the pore be,

Wostow how I mot ascape?

I sey, and swere hym ful rape,

That riche men han more tecches

Of synne than han pore wrecches,

And han of counsel more mister,

6520 And therfore I wole drawe hem ner.

But as gret hurt, it may so be,

Hath a soule in right gret poverte

As soule in gret richesse, forsothe,

Al be it that they hurten bothe.

For richesse and mendicitees

Ben clepid two extremytees;

The mene is cleped suffisaunce;

Ther lyth of vertu the aboundaunce.

For Salamon, full wel I wot,

6530 In his Parablis us wrot,

As it is knowe to many a wight,

In his thrittene chapitre right,

`God thou me kepe, for thi pouste,

Fro richesse and mendicite;

For if a riche man hym dresse

To thenke to myche on richesse,

His herte on that so fer is set

That he his creatour foryet;

And hym that begging wole ay greve,

6540 How shulde I bi his word hym leve?

Unnethe that he nys a mycher

Forsworn, or ellis God is lyer.'

Thus seith Salamones sawes.

Ne we fynde writen in no lawis,

And namely in oure Cristen lay,

(Whoso seith `ye,' I dar sey `nay')

That Crist, ne his apostlis dere,

While that they walkide in erthe heere,

Were never seen her bred beggyng,

6550 For they nolden beggen for nothing.

And right thus was men wont to teche,

And in this wise wolde it preche

The maistres of divinite

Somtyme in Parys the citee.

"And if men wolde ther-geyn appose

The nakid text, and lete the glose,

It myghte soone assoiled be;

For men may wel the sothe see,

That, parde, they myght aske a thing

6560 Pleynly forth, without begging.

For they weren Goddis herdis deere,

And cure of soules hadden heere,

They nolde nothing begge her fode;

For aftir Crist was don on rode,

With ther propre hondis they wrought,

And with travel, and ellis nought,

They wonnen all her sustenaunce,

And lyveden forth in her penaunce,

And the remenaunt yave awey

6570 To other pore folkis alwey.

They neither bilden tour ne halle,

But ley in houses smale withalle.

A myghty man, that can and may,

Shulde with his hond and body alway

Wynne hym his fode in laboring,

If he ne have rent or sich a thing,

Although he be religious,

And God to serven curious.

Thus mot he don, or do trespas,

6580 But if it be in certeyn cas,

That I can reherce, if myster be,

Right wel, whanne the tyme I se.

"Sek the book of Seynt Austyn,

Be it in papir or perchemyn,

There as he writ of these worchynges,

Thou shalt seen that noon excusynges

A parfit man ne shulde seke

Bi wordis ne bi dedis eke,

Although he be religious,

6590 And God to serven curious,

That he ne shal, so mote I go,

With propre hondis and body also,

Gete his fode in laboryng,

If he ne have proprete of thing.

Yit shulde he selle all his substaunce,

And with his swynk have sustenaunce,

If he be parfit in bounte.

Thus han tho bookes told me.

For he that wole gon ydilly,

6600 And usith it ay besily

To haunten other mennes table,

He is a trechour, ful of fable;

Ne he ne may, by god resoun,

Excuse hym by his orisoun.

For men bihoveth, in som gise,

Somtyme leven Goddis servise

To gon and purchasen her nede.

Men mote eten, that is no drede,

And slepe, and eke do other thing;

6610 So longe may they leve praiyng.

So may they eke her praier blynne,

While that they werke, her mete to wynne.

Seynt Austyn wole therto accorde,

In thilke book that I recorde.

Justinian eke, that made lawes,

Hath thus forboden, by olde dawes:

`No man, up peyne to be ded,

Mighty of body, to begge his bred,

If he may swynke it for to gete;

6620 Men shulde hym rather mayme or bete,

Or don of hym apert justice,

Than suffren hym in such malice.'

They don not wel, so mote I go,

That taken such almesse so,

But if they have som pryvelege,

That of the peyne hem wole allege.

But how that is, can I not see,

But if the prince disseyved be;

Ne I ne wene not, sikerly,

6630 That they may have it rightfully.

But I wole not determine

Of prynces power, ne defyne,

Ne by my word comprende, iwys,

If it so fer may strecche in this.

I wole not entremete a del;

But I trowe that the book seith wel,

Who that takith almessis that be

Dewe to folk that men may se

Lame, feble, wery, and bare,

6640 Pore, or in such maner care --

That konne wynne hem never mo,

For they have no power therto --

He etith his owne dampnyng,

But if he lye, that made al thing.

And if ye such a truaunt fynde,

Chastise hym wel, if ye be kynde.

But they wolde hate you, percas,

And, if ye fillen in her laas,

They wolde eftsoonys do you scathe,

6650 If that they myghte, late or rathe;

For they be not full pacient

That han the world thus foule blent.

And witeth wel that [ther] God bad

The good-man selle al that he had,

And folowe hym, and to pore it yive,

He wolde not therfore that he lyve

To serven hym in mendience,

For it was nevere his sentence;

But he bad wirken whanne that neede is,

6660 And folwe hym in goode dedis.

Seynt Poul, that loved al hooly chirche,

He bad th' appostles for to wirche,

And wynnen her lyflode in that wise,

And hem defended truandise,

And seide, `Wirketh with youre honden.'

Thus shulde the thing be undirstonden:

He nolde, iwys, have bidde hem begging,

Ne sellen gospel, ne prechyng,

Lest they berafte, with her askyng,

6670 Folk of her catel or of her thing.

For in this world is many a man

That yeveth his good, for he ne can

Werne it for shame; or ellis he

Wolde of the asker delyvered be,

And, for he hym encombrith so,

He yeveth hym good to late hym go.

But it can hym nothyng profite;

They lese the yift and the meryte.

The goode folk, that Poul to preched,

6680 Profred hym ofte, whan he hem teched,

Som of her good in charite.

But therof right nothing tok he;

But of his hondwerk wolde he gete

Clothes to wryen hym, and his mete."

"Telle me thanne how a man may lyven,

That al his good to pore hath yiven,

And wole but oonly bidde his bedis

May he do so?" "Ye, sir." "And how?"

6690 "Sir, I wole gladly telle yow:

Seynt Austyn seith a man may be

In houses that han proprete,

As Templers and Hospitelers,

And as these Chanouns Regulers,

Or White Monkes, or these Blake --

I wole no mo ensamplis make --

And take therof his sustenyng,

For therynne lyth no begging;

But other weyes not, ywys,

6700 Yif Austyn gabbith not of this.

And yit full many a monk laboureth,

That God in hooly chirche honoureth.

For whanne her swynkyng is agon,

They rede and synge in chirche anon.

"And for ther hath ben gret discord,

As many a wight may bere record,

Upon the estat of mendience,

I wole shortly, in youre presence,

Telle how a man may begge at nede,

6710 That hath not wherwith hym to fede,

Maugre his felones jangelyngis,

For sothfastnesse wole none hidyngis.

And yit, percas, I may abeye

That I to yow sothly thus seye.

"Lo, heere the caas especial:

If a man be so bestial

That he of no craft hath science,

And nought desireth ignorence,

Thanne may he go a-begging yerne,

6720 Til he som maner craft kan lerne,

Thurgh which withoute truaundyng,

He may in trouthe have his lyvyng.

Or if he may don no labour,

For elde, or syknesse, or langour,

Or for his tendre age also,

Thanne may he yit a-begging go.

Or if he have, peraventure,

Thurgh usage of his noriture,

Lyved over deliciously,

6730 Thanne oughten good folk comunly

Han of his myscheef som pitee,

And suffren hym also that he

May gon aboute and begge his breed,

That he be not for hungur deed.

Or if he have of craft kunnyng,

And strengthe also, and desiryng

To wirken, as he hadde what,

But he fynde neithir this ne that,

Thanne may he begge til that he

6740 Have geten his necessite.

Or if his wynnyng be so lite

That his labour wole not acquyte

Sufficiantly al his lyvyng,

Yit may he go his breed begging;

Fro dore to dore he may go trace,

Til he the remenaunt may purchace.

Or if a man wolde undirtake

Ony emprise for to make

In the rescous of oure lay,

6750 And it defenden as he may,

Be it with armes or lettrure,

Or other covenable cure,

If it be so he pore be,

Thanne may he begge til that he

May fynde in trouthe for to swynke,

And gete hym clothes, mete, and drynke,

Swynke he with his hondis corporell,

And not with hondis espirituell.

"In al thise caas, and in semblables,

6760 If that ther ben mo resonables,

He may begge, as I telle you heere,

And ellis nought, in no manere,

As William Seynt Amour wolde preche,

And ofte wolde dispute and teche

Of this mater all openly

At Parys full solempnely.

And, also God my soule blesse,

As he had, in this stedfastnesse,

The accord of the universite

6770 And of the puple, as semeth me.

"No good man oughte it to refuse,

Ne ought hym therof to excuse,

Be wroth or blithe whoso be.

For I wole speke, and telle it thee,

Al shulde I dye, and be putt doun,

As was Seynt Poul, in derk prisoun;

Or be exiled in this caas

With wrong, as maister William was,

That my moder, Ypocrysie,

6780 Banysshed for hir gret envye.

"Mi modir flemed hym Seynt Amour;

The noble dide such labour

To susteyne evere the loyalte,

That he to moche agilte me.

He made a book, and lete it write,

And wolde ich reneyed begging,

And lyved by my traveylyng,

If I ne had rent ne other good.

6790 What? Wened he that I were wood?

For labour myght me never plese.

I have more wille to ben at ese,

And have wel lever, soth to seye,

Bifore the puple patre and preye,

And wrie me in my foxerie

Under a cope of papelardie."

Quod Love, "What devel is this that I heere?

What wordis tellest thou me heere?"

"What, sir?" "Falsnesse, that apert is.

6800 Thanne dredist thou not God?" "No, certis;

For selde in gret thing shal he spede

In this world, that God wole drede.

For folk that hem to vertu yiven,

And truly on her owne lyven,

And hem in goodnesse ay contene,

On hem is lytel thrift sene.

Such folk drinken gret mysese;

That lyf may me never plese.

But se what gold han usurers,

6810 And silver eke in garners,

Taylagiers, and these monyours,

Bailifs, bedels, provost, countours;

These lyven wel nygh by ravyne.

The smale puple hem mote enclyne,

And they as wolves wole hem eten.

Upon the pore folk they geten

Full moche of that they spende or kepe.

Nis non of hem that he nyl strepe

And wrien hemsilf wel atte fulle;

6820 Withoute scaldyng they hem pulle.

The stronge the feble overgoth.

But I, that were my symple cloth,

Robbe bothe robbed and robbours

And gile giled and gilours.

By my treget I gadre and threste

The gret tresour into my cheste,

That lyth with me so faste bounde.

Myn highe paleys do I founde,

And my delites I fulfille

6830 With wyn at feestes at my wille,

And tables full of entremees.

I wole no lyf but ese and pees,

And wynne gold to spende also.

For whanne the grete bagge is go,

It cometh right with my japes.

Make I not wel tumble myn apes?

To wynnen is alwey myn entente;

My purchace is bettir than my rente.

For though I shulde beten be,

6840 Overal I entremete me.

Without me may no wight dure;

I walke soules for to cure.

Of al the world cure have I;

In brede and lengthe boldely

I wole bothe preche and eke counceilen.

With hondis wille I not traveilen,

For of the Pope I have the bulle --

I ne holde not my wittes dulle.

I wole not stynten, in my lyve,

6850 These emperoures for to shryve,

Or kyngis, dukis, lordis grete;

But pore folk al quyte I lete.

I love no such shryvyng, parde,

But it for other cause be.

I rekke not of pore men --

Her astat is not worth an hen.

Where fyndest thou a swynker of labour

Have me unto his confessour?

But emperesses and duchesses,

6860 Thise queenes, and eke countesses,

Thise abbessis, and eke bygyns,

These grete ladyes palasyns,

These joly knyghtis and baillyves,

Thise nonnes, and thise burgeis wyves,

That riche ben and eke plesyng,

And thise maidens welfaryng,

Wherso they clad or naked be,

Uncounceiled goth ther noon fro me.

And, for her soules savete,

6870 At lord and lady, and her meyne,

I axe, whanne thei hem to me shryve,

The proprete of al her lyve,

And make hem trowe, bothe meest and leest,

Hir paroch-prest nys but a beest

Ayens me and my companye,

That shrewis ben as gret as I;

Fro whiche I wole not hide in hold

No pryvete that me is told,

That I by word or signe, ywis,

6880 [Ne] wole make hem knowe what it is,

And they wolen also tellen me;

They hele fro me no pryvyte.

And for to make yow hem perceyven,

That usen folk thus to disceyven,

I wole you seyn, withouten drede,

What men may in the gospel rede

Of Seynt Mathew, the gospelere,

That seith, as I shal you sey heere:

"`Uppon the chaire of Moyses' --

6890 Thus is it glosed, douteles,

That is the Olde Testament,

For therby is the chaire ment --

`Sitte Scribes and Pharisen;'

That is to seyn, the cursid men

Whiche that we ypocritis calle.

`Doth that they preche, I rede you alle,

But doth not as they don a del;

That ben not wery to seye wel,

But to do wel no will have they.

6900 And they wolde bynde on folk alwey,

That ben to be begiled able,

Burdons that ben importable;

On folkes shuldris thinges they couchen,

That they nyl with her fyngris touchen.'"

"And why wole they not touche it?" "Why?

For hem ne lyst not, sikirly;

For sadde burdons that men taken

Make folkes shuldris aken.

And if they do ought that good be,

6910 That is for folk it shulde se.

Her bordurs larger maken they,

And make her hemmes wide alwey,

And loven setes at the table,

The firste and most honourable;

And for to han the first chaieris

In synagogis, to hem full deere is.

And willen that folk hem loute and grete,

Whanne that they passen thurgh the strete,

And wolen be cleped `maister' also.

6920 But they ne shulde not willen so;

The gospel is ther-ageyns, I gesse,

That shewith wel her wikkidnesse.

"Another custome use we:

Of hem that wole ayens us be,

We hate hem deedly everichon,

And we wole werrey hem, as oon.

Hym that oon hatith, hate we alle,

And congecte hou to don hym falle.

And if we seen hym wynne honour,

6930 Richesse, or preis, thurgh his valour,

Provende, rent, or dignyte,

Ful fast, iwys, compassen we

Bi what ladder he is clomben so;

And for to maken hym doun to go,

With traisoun we wole hym defame,

And don hym leese his goode name.

Thus from his ladder we hym take,

And thus his freendis foes we make;

But word ne wite shal he noon,

6940 Till alle his freendis ben his foon.

For if we dide it openly,

We myght have blame redily;

For hadde he wist of oure malice,

He hadde hym kept, but he were nyce.

"Another is this, that if so falle

That ther be oon amonge us alle

That doth a good turn, out of drede,

We seyn it is oure alder deede.

Ye, sikerly, though he it feyned,

6950 Or that hym list, or that hym deyned

A man thurgh hym avaunced be;

Therof all parseners be we,

And tellen folk, whereso we go,

That man thurgh us is sprongen so.

And for to have of men preysyng,

We purchace, thurgh oure flateryng,

Of riche men of gret pouste

Lettres to witnesse oure bounte,

So that man weneth, that may us see,

6960 That alle vertu in us be.

And alwey pore we us feyne;

But how so that we begge or pleyne,

We ben the folk, without lesyng,

That all thing have without havyng.

Thus be we dred of the puple, iwis.

And gladly my purpos is this:

I dele with no wight, but he

Have gold and tresour gret plente.

Her acqueyntaunce wel love I;

6970 This is moche my desir, shortly.

I entremete me of brokages,

I make pees and mariages,

I am gladly executour,

And many tymes procuratour;

I am somtyme messager,

That fallith not to my myster;

And many tymes I make enquestes --

For me that office not honest is.

To dele with other mennes thing,

6980 That is to me a gret lykyng.

And if that ye have ought to do

In place that I repeire to,

I shal it speden, thurgh my witt,

As soone as ye have told me it.

So that ye serve me to pay,

My servyse shal be youre alway.

But whoso wole chastise me,

Anoon my love lost hath he;

For I love no man, in no gise,

6990 That wole me repreve or chastise.

But I wolde al folk undirtake,

And of no wight no teching take;

For I, that other folk chastie,

Wole not be taught fro my folie.

"I love noon hermitage more.

All desertes and holtes hore,

And grete wodes everichon,

I lete hem to the Baptist John.

I queth hym quyt and hym relesse

7000 Of Egipt all the wildirnesse.

To fer were alle my mansiounes

Fro citees and goode tounes.

My paleis and myn hous make I

There men may renne ynne openly,

And sey that I the world forsake,

But al amydde I bilde and make

My hous, and swimme and pley therynne,

Bet than a fish doth with his fynne.

"Of Antecristes men am I,

7010 Of whiche that Crist seith openly,

They have abit of hoolynesse,

And lyven in such wikkednesse.

Outward, lambren semen we,

Fulle of goodnesse and of pitee,

And inward we, withouten fable,

Ben gredy wolves ravysable.

We enviroune bothe lond and se;

With all the world werreyen we;

We wole ordeyne of alle thing,

7020 Of folkis good, and her lyvyng.

"If ther be castel or citee,

Wherynne that ony bouger be,

Although that they of Milayn were

(For therof ben they blamed there);

Or if a wight out of mesure

Wolde lene his gold, and take usure,

For that he is so coveitous;

Or if he be to leccherous,

Or theef [or] haunte symonye,

7030 Or provost full of trecherie,

Or prelat lyvyng jolily,

Or prest that halt his quene hym by,

Or olde horis hostilers,

Or other bawdes or bordillers,

Or elles blamed of ony vice

Of which men shulden don justice:

Bi all the seyntes that me pray,

But they defende them with lamprey,

With luce, with elys, with samons,

7040 With tendre gees and with capons,

With tartes, or with cheses fat,

With deynte flawnes brode and flat,

With caleweis, or with pullaylle,

With conynges, or with fyn vitaille,

That we, undir our clothes wide,

Maken thourgh oure golet glide;

Or but he wole do come in haste

Roo-venysoun, bake in paste;

Whether so that he loure or groyne,

7050 He shal have of a corde a loigne,

With whiche men shal hym bynde and lede,

To brenne hym for his synful deede,

That men shull here hym crie and rore

A myle-wey aboute, and more;

Or ellis he shal in prisoun dye,

But if he wole oure frendship bye,

Or smerten that that he hath do,

More than his gilt amounteth to.

But, and he couth. thurgh his sleight,

7060 Do maken up a tour of height,

Nought rought I whethir of ston, or tree,

Or erthe, or turves though it be,

Though it were of no vounde ston,

Wrought with squyre and scantilon,

So that the tour were stuffed well

With alle richesse temporell,

And thanne that he wolde updresse

Engyns, bothe more and lesse,

To cast at us by every side,

7070 To bere his goode name wide,

Such sleghtes [as] I shal yow nevene,

Barelles of wyn, by sixe or sevene,

Or gold in sakkis gret plente,

He shulde soone delyvered be.

And if [he have] noon sich pitaunces,

Late hym study in equipolences,

And late lyes and fallaces,

If that he wolde deserve oure graces;

Or we shal bere hym such witnesse

7080 Of synne and of his wrecchidnesse,

And don his loos so wide renne,

That al quyk we shulden hym brenne;

Or ellis yeve hym such penaunce,

That is wel wors than the pitaunce.

"For thou shalt never, for nothing,

Kon knowen aright by her clothing

The traitours fulle of trecherie,

But thou her werkis can aspie.

And ne hadde the goode kepyng be

7090 Whilom of the universite,

That kepith the key of Cristendom,

Suche ben the stynkyng prophetis;

Nys non of hem that good prophete is,

For they thurgh wikked entencioun,

The yeer of the Incarnacioun,

A thousand and two hundred yeer,

Fyve and fifty, ferther ne neer,

Broughten a book, with sory grace,

7100 To yeven ensample in comune place,

That seide thus, though it were fable:

`This is the gospel perdurable,

That fro the Holy Goost is sent.'

Wel were it worth to ben brent!

Entitled was in such manere

This book, of which I telle heere.

Ther nas no wight in all Parys,

Biforne Oure Lady, at parvys,

7110 To copy if hym talent tok.

There myght he se, by gret tresoun,

Full many fals comparisoun:

`As moche as, thurgh his grete myght,

Be it of hete or of lyght,

The sonne sourmounteth the mone,

That troublere is, and chaungith soone,

And the note-kernell the shelle

(I scorne not that I yow telle),

Right so, withouten ony gile,

7120 Sourmounteth this noble evangile

The word of ony evangelist.'

And to her title they token Crist.

And many a such comparisoun,

Of which I make no mencioun,

Mighte men in that book fynde,

Whoso coude of hem have mynde.

"The universite, that tho was aslep,

Gan for to braide and taken kep;

And at the noys the heed upcaste,

7130 Ne never sithen slept it faste,

But up it stert, and armes tok

Ayens this fals horrible bok,

Al redy bateil [for] to make,

And to the juge the book to take.

But they that broughten the bok there

Hent it anoon awey, for fere.

They nolde shewe more a del,

But thenne it kept, and kepen will,

Til such a tyme that they may see

7140 That they so stronge woxen be

That no wyght may hem wel withstonde,

For by that book [they] durst not stonde.

Awey they gonne it for to bere,

For they ne durst not answere

By exposicioun ne glose

To that that clerkis wole appose

Ayens the cursednesse, iwys,

That in that book writen is.

Now wot I not, ne I can not see

7150 What maner eende that there shal be

Of al this [bok] that they hyde;

But yit algate they shal abide

Til that they may it bet defende.

This, trowe I best, wol be her ende.

"Thus, Antecrist abiden we,

For we ben alle of his meyne;

And what man that wole not be so,

Right soone he shal his lyf forgo.

We wole a puple upon hym areyse,

7160 And thurgh oure gile don hym seise,

And hym on sharpe speris ryve,

Or other weyes brynge hym fro lyve,

But if that he wole folowe, iwis,

That in oure book writen is.

"Thus mych wole oure book signifie,

That while Petre hath maistrie,

May never John shewe well his myght.

Now have I you declared right

The menyng of the bark and rynde,

7170 That makith the entenciouns blynde;

But now at erst I wole bigynne

To expowne you the pith withynne:

And the seculers comprehende,

That Cristes lawe wole defende,

And shulde it kepen and mayntenen

Ayenes hem that all sustenen,

And falsly to the puple techen.

And John bitokeneth hem that prechen

That ther nys lawe covenable

7180 But thilke gospel perdurable,

That fro the Holy Gost was sent

To turne folk that ben myswent.

"The strengthe of John they undirstonde

The grace, in which they seie they stonde,

That doth the synfull folk converte,

And hem to Jesus Crist reverte.

Full many another orribilite

May men in that book se,

That ben comaunded, douteles,

7190 Ayens the lawe of Rome expres;

And all with Antecrist they holden,

As men may in the book biholden.

And thanne comaunden they to sleen

Alle tho that with Petre been;

But they shal nevere have that myght,

And, God toforn, for strif to fight,

That they ne shal ynowe fynde

That Petres lawe shal have in mynde,

And evere holde, and so mayntene,

7200 That at the last it shal be sene

That they shal alle come therto,

For ought that they can speke or do.

And thilke lawe shal not stonde,

That they by John have undirstonde,

But, maugre hem, it shal adown,

And ben brought to confusioun.

But I wole stynt of this matere,

For it is wonder longe to here.

But hadde that ilke book endured,

7210 Of better estat I were ensured,

And freendis have I yit, pardee,

That han me sett in gret degre.

"Of all this world is emperour

Gyle my fadir, the trechour,

And emperisse my moder is,

Maugre the Holy Gost, iwis.

Oure myghty lynage and oure rowte

Regneth in every regne aboute;

And well is worthy we maistres be,

7220 For all this world governe we,

And can the folk so wel disceyve

That noon oure gile can perceyve.

And though they don, they dar not seye;

The sothe dar no wight bywreye.

But he in Cristis wrath hym ledith,

That more than Crist my britheren dredith.

He nys no full good champioun,

That dredith such simulacioun,

Nor that for peyne wole refusen

7230 Us to correcte and accusen.

He wole not entremete by right,

Ne have God in his eye-sight,

And therfore God shal hym punyshe.

But me ne rekketh of no vice,

Sithen men us loven comunably,

And holden us for so worthy

That we may folk repreve echoon,

And we nyl have repref of noon.

Whom shulden folk worshipen so

7240 But us, that stynten never mo

To patren while that folk may us see,

Though it not so bihynde be?

"And where is more wod folye

Than to enhaunce chyvalrie,

And love noble men and gay,

That joly clothis weren alway?

If they be sich folk as they semen,

So clene, as men her clothis demen,

And that her wordis folowe her dede,

7250 It is gret pite, out of drede,

For they wole be noon ypocritis!

Of hem, me thynketh, gret spite is.

I can not love hem on no side.

But beggers with these hodes wide,

With sleighe and pale faces lene,

And greye clothis not full clene,

But fretted full of tatarwagges,

And highe shoos, knopped with dagges,

That frouncen lyke a quaile pipe,

7260 Or botis rivelyng as a gype;

To such folk as I you dyvyse

Shulde princes, and these lordis wise,

Take all her londis and her thingis,

Bothe werre and pees, in governyngis;

To such folk shulde a prince hym yive,

That wolde his lyf in honour lyve.

"And if they be not as they seme,

That serven thus the world to queme,

There wolde I dwelle, to disceyve

7270 The folk, for they shal not perceyve.

But I ne speke in no such wise,

That men shulde humble abit dispise,

So that no pride ther-undir be.

No man shulde hate, as thynkith me,

The pore man in sich clothyng.

But God ne preisith hym nothing,

That seith he hath the world forsake,

And hath to worldly glorie hym take,

And wole of siche delices use.

7280 Who may that begger wel excuse,

That papelard, that hym yeldith so,

And wole to worldly ese go,

And seith that he the world hath left,

And gredily it grypeth eft?

He is the hound, shame is to seyn,

That to his castyng goth ageyn.

"But unto you dar I not lye.

But myght I felen or aspie

That ye perceyved it no thyng,

7290 Ye shulde have a stark lesyng

Right in youre honde thus, to bigynne;

I nolde it lette for no synne."

The god lough at the wondir tho,

And every wight gan laugh also,

And seide, "Lo, heere a man aright

For to be trusty to every wight!"

"Fals-Semblant," quod Love, "sey to me,

Sith I thus have avaunced thee,

That in my court is thi dwellyng,

7300 And of ribawdis shalt be my kyng,

Wolt thou wel holden my forwardis?"

"Ye, sir, from hennes forwardis;

Hadde never youre fadir heere-biforn

Servaunt so trewe, sith he was born."

"That is ayenes all nature."

"Sir, putte you in that aventure.

For though ye borowes take of me,

The sikerer shal ye never be

For ostages, ne sikirnesse,

7310 Or chartres, for to bere witnesse.

I take youresilf to recorde heere,

That men ne may in no manere

Teren the wolf out of his hide,

Til he be flayn, bak and side,

Though men hym bete and al defile.

What! Wene ye that I nil bigile

For I am clothed mekely?

Ther-undir is all my trechery;

Myn herte chaungith never the mo

7320 For noon abit in which I go.

Though I have chere of symplenesse,

I am not wery of shrewidnesse.

My lemman, Streyned-Abstinaunce,

Hath myster of my purveaunce;

She hadde ful longe ago be deed,

Nere my councel and my red.

Lete hir allone, and you and me."

And Love answerde, "I truste thee

Withoute borowe, for I wole noon."

7330 And Fals-Semblant, the theef, anoon,

Ryght in that ilke same place,

That hadde of tresoun al his face

Ryght blak withynne and whit withoute,

Thankyth hym, gan on his knees loute.

Thanne was ther nought but, "Every man

Now to assaut, that sailen can,"

Quod Love, "and that full hardyly!"

Thanne armed they hem communly

Of sich armour as to hem fel.

7340 Whanne they were armed, fers and fel,

They wente hem forth, alle in a route,

And set the castel al aboute.

They will nought away, for no drede,

Till it so be that they ben dede,

Or til they have the castel take.

And foure batels they gan make,

And parted hem in foure anoon,

And toke her way, and forth they gon,

The foure gates for to assaile,

7350 Of whiche the kepers wole not faile;

For they ben neithir sike ne dede,

But hardy folk, and stronge in dede.

Now wole I seyn the countynaunce

Of Fals-Semblant and Abstynaunce,

That ben to Wikkid-Tonge went.

But first they heelde her parlement,

Whether it to done were

To maken hem be knowen there,

Or elles walken forth disgised.

7360 But at the laste they devysed

That they wolde gon in tapinage,

As it were in a pilgrimage,

Lyke good and hooly folk unfeyned.

And Dame Abstinence-Streyned

Tok on a robe of kamelyne,

And gan hir graithe as a Bygyne.

A large coverechief of thred

She wrapped all aboute hir heed,

But she forgat not hir sawter;

7370 A peire of bedis eke she ber

Upon a las, all of whit thred,

On which that she hir bedes bed.

But she ne bought hem never a del,

For they were geven her, I wot wel,

God wot, of a full hooly frere,

That seide he was hir fadir dere,

To whom she hadde ofter went

Than ony frere of his covent.

And he visited hir also,

7380 And many a sermoun seide hir to;

He nolde lette, for man on lyve,

That he ne wolde hir ofte shryve.

And with so great devocion

They made her confession,

That they had ofte, for the nones,

Two heedes in oon hood at ones.

Of fayre shap I devyse her the,

But pale of face somtyme was she;

That false traytouresse untrewe

7390 Was lyk that salowe hors of hewe,

That in the Apocalips is shewed,

That signifyeth tho folk beshrewed

That ben al ful of trecherye,

And pale through hypocrisye;

For on that hors no colour is,

But only deed and pale, ywis.

Of such a colour enlangoured

Was Abstynence, iwys, coloured;

Of her estat she her repented,

7400 As her visage represented.

She had a burdown al of Thefte,

That Gyle had yeve her of his yefte;

And a skryppe of Faynt Distresse,

That ful was of elengenesse;

And forth she walked sobrely.

And Fals-Semblant saynt, je vous die,

Had, as it were for such mister,

Don on the cope of a frer,

With chere symple and ful pytous.

7410 Hys lokyng was not disdeynous,

Ne proud, but meke and ful pesyble.

About his necke he bar a byble,

And squierly forth gan he gon,

And, for to rest his lymmes upon,

He had of Treason a potente;

As he were feble, his way he wente.

But in his sleve he gan to thringe

A rasour sharp and wel bytynge,

That was forged in a forge,

7420 Which that men clepen Coupe-Gorge.

So longe forth her way they nomen,

Tyl they to Wicked-Tonge comen,

That at his gate was syttyng,

And saw folk in the way passyng.

The pilgrymes saw he faste by,

That beren hem ful mekely,

And humbly they with him mette.

Dame Abstynence first him grette,

And sythe him Fals-Semblant salued,

7430 And he hem; but he not remued,

For he ne dredde hem not a del.

For whan he saw her faces wel,

Alway in herte him thoughte so,

He shulde knowe hem bothe two,

For wel he knew Dame Abstynaunce,

But he ne knew not Constreynaunce.

He knew nat that she was constrayned,

Ne of her theves lyve fayned,

But wende she com of wyl al free,

7440 But she com in another degree,

And if of good wyl she began,

That wyl was fayled her than.

And Fals-Semblant had he sayn als,

But he knew nat that he was fals.

Yet fals was he, but his falsnesse

Ne coude he nat espye nor gesse;

For Semblant was so slye wrought,

That Falsnesse he ne espyed nought.

But haddest thou knowen hym beforn,

7450 Thou woldest on a bok have sworn,

Whan thou him saugh in thylke aray,

That he, that whilom was so gay,

And of the daunce joly Robyn,

Was tho become a Jacobyn.

But sothly, what so men hym calle,

Freres Preachours ben good men alle;

Her order wickedly they beren,

Suche mynstrelles if they weren.

So ben Augustyns and Cordyleres,

7460 And Carmes, and eke Sacked Freeres,

And alle freres, shodde and bare

(Though some of hem ben great and square),

Ful hooly men, as I hem deme;

Everych of hem wolde good man seme.

But shalt thou never of apparence

Sen conclude good consequence

In non argument, ywis,

If existens al fayled is.

For men may fynde alway sophyme

7470 The consequence to envenyme,

Whoso that hath the subtelte

The double sentence for to se.

Whan the pylgrymes commen were

To Wicked-Tonge, that dwelled there,

Her harneys nygh hem was algate;

By Wicked-Tonge adown they sate,

That bad hem ner him for to come,

And of tidynges telle him some,

And sayd hem, "What cas maketh you

7480 To come into this place now?"

"Sir," sayde Strayned-Abstynaunce,

"We, for to drye our penaunce,

With hertes pytous and devoute

Are commen, as pylgrimes gon aboute.

Wel nygh on fote alwey we go;

Ful dusty ben our heeles two;

And thus bothe we ben sent

Throughout this world, that is miswent,

To yeve ensample, and preche also.

7490 To fysshen synful men we go,

For other fysshynge ne fysshe we.

And, sir, for that charyte,

As we be wonte, herborowe we crave,

Your lyf to amende, Christ it save!

And, so it shulde you nat displese,

We wolden, if it were youre ese,

A short sermon unto you sayn."

And Wicked-Tonge answered agayn:

"The hous," quod he, "such as ye see,

7500 Shal nat be warned you for me.

Say what you lyst, and I wol here."

"Graunt mercy, swete sire dere!"

Quod alderfirst Dame Abstynence,

And thus began she her sentence:

"Sir, the firste vertu, certayn,

The greatest and moste soverayn

That may be founde in any man,

For havynge, or for wyt he can,

That is his tonge to refrayne;

7510 Therto ought every wight him payne.

For it is better stylle be

Than for to speken harm, parde!

And he that herkeneth it gladly,

He is no good man, sykerly.

"And, sir, aboven al other synne,

In that art thou most gylty inne.

Thou spake a jape not longe ago,

(And, sir, that was ryght yvel do)

Of a young man that here repayred,

7520 And never yet this place apayred.

Thou saydest he awayted nothyng

But to disceyve Fayr-Welcomyng;

Ye sayde nothyng soth of that.

But, sir, ye lye, I tel you plat.

He ne cometh no more, ne goth, parde!

I trowe ye shal him never se.

Fayr-Welcomyng in prison is,

That ofte hath played with you, er this,

The fayrest games that he coude,

7530 Withoute fylthe, stylle or loude.

Now dar he nat himself solace.

Ye han also the man do chace,

That he dar neyther come ne go.

What meveth you to hate him so,

But properly your wicked thought,

That many a fals leasyng hath thought

That meveth your foole eloquence,

That jangleth ever in audyence,

And on the folk areyseth blame,

7540 And doth hem dishonour and shame,

For thyng that may have no prevyng,

But lyklynesse, and contryvyng?

"For I dar sayn that Reson demeth

It is nat al soth thyng that semeth,

And it is synne to controve

Thyng that is to reprove.

This wote ye wel, and sir, therfore

Ye arn to blame the more.

And nathelesse, he recketh lyte;

7550 He yeveth nat now therof a myte.

For if he thoughte harm, parfay,

He wolde come and gon al day;

He coude himselve nat abstene.

Now cometh he nat, and that is sene,

For he ne taketh of it no cure,

But if it be through aventure,

And lasse than other folk, algate.

And thou her watchest at the gate,

With spere in thyn arest alway;

7560 There muse, musard, al the day.

Thou wakest night and day for thought;

Iwis, thy traveyle is for nought;

And Jelousye, withouten fayle,

Shal never quyte the thy traveyle.

And skathe is that Fayr-Welcomyng,

Withouten any trespassyng,

Shal wrongfully in prison be,

There wepeth and languyssheth he.

And though thou never yet, ywis,

7570 Agyltest man no more but this,

(Take nat a-gref) it were worthy

To putte the out of this bayly,

And afterward in prison lye,

And fettre the tyl that thou dye;

For thou shalt for this synne dwelle

Right in the devels ers of helle,

But if that thou repente thee."

"Ma fay, thou liest falsly!" quod he.

"What? Welcome with myschaunce now!

7580 Have I therfore herbered yow,

To seye me shame, and eke reprove?

With sory hap, to youre bihove,

Am I to day youre herberger!

Go herber yow elleswhere than heer,

That han a lyer called me!

Two tregetours art thou and he,

That in myn hous do me this shame,

And for my soth-sawe ye me blame.

Is this the sermoun that ye make?

7590 To all the develles I me take,

Or elles, God, thou me confounde,

But, er men diden this castel founde,

It passith not ten daies or twelve,

But it was told right to myselve,

And as they seide, right so tolde I,

He kyst the Rose pryvyly!

Thus seide I now, and have seid yore;

I not wher he dide ony more.

Why shulde men sey me such a thyng,

7600 If it hadde ben gabbyng?

Ryght so seide I, and wol seye yit;

I trowe, I lied not of it.

And with my bemes I wole blowe

To alle neighboris a-rowe,

How he hath bothe comen and gon."

Tho spak Fals-Semblant right anon:

"All is not gospel, out of doute,

That men seyn in the town aboute.

Ley no deef ere to my spekyng;

7610 I swere yow, sir, it is gabbyng!

I trowe ye wote wel, certeynly,

That no man loveth hym tenderly

That seith hym harm, if he wot it,

All he be never so pore of wit.

And soth is also, sikerly

(This knowe ye, sir, as wel as I),

That lovers gladly wole visiten

The places there her loves habiten.

This man yow loveth and eke honoureth.

7620 This man to serve you laboureth,

And clepith you his freend so deere:

And this man makith you good chere,

And everywhere that [he] you meteth,

He yow saloweth, and he you greteth.

He preseth not so ofte that ye

Ought of his come encombred be;

Ther presen other folk on yow

Full ofter than he doth now.

And if his herte hym streyned so

7630 Unto the Rose for to go,

Ye shulde hym sen so ofte nede,

That ye shulde take hym with the dede.

He cowde his comyng not forbere,

Though me hym thrilled with a spere;

It nere not thanne as it is now.

But trusteth wel, I swere it yow,

That it is clene out of his thought.

Sir, certis, he ne thenkith it nought;

No more ne doth Fair-Welcomyng,

7640 That sore abieth al this thing.

And if they were of oon assent,

Full soone were the Rose hent;

The maugre youres wolde be.

And sir, of o thing herkeneth me,

Sith ye this man that loveth yow

Han seid such harm and shame now,

Witeth wel, if he gessed it,

Ye may wel demen in youre wit

He nolde nothyng love you so,

7650 Ne callen you his freend also,

But nyght and day he wolde wake

The castell to destroie and take,

If it were soth as ye devise;

Or som man in som maner wise

Might it warne hym everydel,

Or by hymsilf perceyven wel.

For sith he myght not come and gon,

As he was whilom wont to don,

He myght it sone wite and see;

7660 But now all other wise doth he.

Thanne have [ye], sir, al outerly,

Deserved helle, and jolyly

The deth of helle, douteles,

That thrallen folk so gilteles."

Fals-Semblant proveth so this thing

That he can noon answeryng,

And seth alwey such apparaunce

That nygh he fel in repentaunce,

And seide hym, "Sir, it may wel be.

7670 Semblant, a good man semen ye,

And, Abstinence, full wise ye seme.

Of o talent you bothe I deme.

What counceil wole ye to me yiven?"

"Ryght heere anoon thou shalt be shryven,

And sey thy synne withoute more;

Of this shalt thou repente sore.

For I am prest and have pouste

To shryve folk of most dignyte

That ben, as wide as world may dure.

7680 Of all this world I have the cure,

And that hadde never yit persoun,

Ne vicarie of no maner toun.

And, God wot, I have of thee

A thousand tyme more pitee

Than hath thi preest parochial,

Though he thy freend be special.

I have avauntage, in o wise,

That youre prelatis ben not so wise

Ne half so lettred as am I.

7690 I am licenced boldely

To reden in divinite,

And longe have red. . . .

Table of Contents

THE CANTERBURY TALES

General Prologue

The Knight's Tale

The Miller's Prologue

The Miller's Tale

The Reeve's Prologue

The Reeve's Tale

The Cook's Prologue

The Cook's Tale

The Man Of Law's Introduction And Prologue

The Man Of Law's Tale

The Man Of Law's Epilogue

The Wife Of Bath's Prologue

The Wife Of Bath's Tale

The Friar's Prologue

The Friar's Tale

The Summoner's Prologue

The Summoner's Tale

The Clerk's Prologue

The Clerk's Tale

The Merchant's Prologue

The Merchant's Tale

The Merchant's Epilogue

The Squire's Introduction

The Squire's Tale

The Franklin's Prologue

The Franklin's Tale

The Physician's Tale

The Pardoner's Introduction And Prologue

The Pardoner's Tale

The Shipman's Tale

The Prioress' Prologue

The Prioress' Tale

The Prologue To The Tale Of Sir Thopas

The Tale Of Sir Thopas

The Tale Of Melibee

The Monk's Prologue

The Monk's Tale

The Nun's Priest's Prologue

The Nun's Priest's Tale

The Nun's Priest's Epilogue

The Second Nun's Prologue

The Second Nun's Tale

The Canon's Yeoman's Prologue

The Canon's Yeoman's Tale

The Manciple's Prologue

The Manciple's Tale

The Parson's Prologue

The Parson's Tale

Chaucer's Retraction

OTHER WORKS

The Book Of The Duchess

The House Of Fame

Anelida And Arcite

The Parliament Of Fowls

BOECE

Book 1

Book 2

Book 3

Book 4

Book 5

TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

Book 1

Book 2

Book 3

Book 4

Book 5

THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN

Prologue F

Prologue G

The Legends

THE SHORTER POEMS

An ABC

The Complaint Unto Pity

A Complaint To His Lady

The Complaint Of Mars

The Complaint Of Venus

To Rosemounde

Womanly Noblesse

Chaucers Wordes Unto Adam, His Owne Scriveyn

The Former Age

Fortune

Truth

Gentilesse

Lak Of Stedfastnesse

Lenvoy De Chaucer A Scogan

Lenvoy De Chaucer A Bukton

The Complaint Of Chaucer To His Purse

Proverbs

Against Women Unconstant

Complaynt D'amours

Merciles Beaute

A Balade Of Complaint

A TREATISE ON THE ASTROLABE

Part 1

Part 2

THE ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE

Fragment A

Fragment B

Fragment C